^n , > -^ .A ■% ^. cV-^ ./' ^ <.^'^ .^^'^^^Va^"<^.,^^^ ,^^ -^^ v^^ 5.0 0^. ^•^ "'^^ ,^\^ #■' ''it./* .,'^'> -0- <" J' .vV ,'^- '-. ^^. "''^T.s^ ^^ ,0^ '^' ,.^',fr#^.''^ %, J'^ .' "^^^-^^ .-^b. c,« ^ <, "oo^ ~ .^^ --.1 ^!^^'^ s- i \ , ' .. 1 ,.^''-1:, ', !t -^V!^-." ,#''^^.> ''*^"' ^■' -' '^''^ ^ .^".J", '*. -7^ LESSONS IN ELOCUTION DRILL BOOK FOR l'i<.\CTlCfi OK THE PRINCIPLES OF VOCAL PHYSIOLOGY, AND FOR ACQUIRING THE ART OF Elocution and Oratory, COMPRISING ALL TUF. ESSENTIAL ELEMErTS OF VOCAL DELIVERY AND GESTURE, SCHOOLS, COLLEGES, THE PULPIT AND PRIVi^TE LEARNERS. j j Education, j- Richard Edwards, 171 The Farmer's Profession, . Anson S. Miller, 172 The Old Man Dreams, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 1 74 All Value Centers in Mind, Richard Edwards, 175 My Darling's Shoes, 178 The Rival Orators, Aimwell Stories, 1 79 The Pilot John B, Gough, 182 The Pilot, Cochran, 184 Liberty and Union, __. Webster, 185 Excelsior, Longfellow, 186 The Charge of the Light Brigade, _ Tennyson, 188 Hamlet's Instructions .Shakspeare, 189 Definition of Eloquence Webster, 190 Ode on the Passions, William Collins, 191 The Brides of Enderby, Jean Ingelow, 193 The New Church Organ, Will M. Carleton, 197 Burial of Sir John Moore, Charles Wolfe, 199 The Lost Heir Thomas Hood, " 00 After School, 204 Buzfuz versus Pickwick, Charles Dickens, 205 Drifting, Thomas Buchanan Read, 209 The Story of Richard Doubledick, 210 Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, Thomas Gray, 216 Whiter than Snow, Watson, 220 Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 221 Maud Muller, .John G. Whittier, 225 Orator Puff, Thomas Moore, 22S Mother and Poet, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 229 lO CONTENTS. Deacon Stokes, .. _,--. Thomas Quilp, 231 The Three Sons, Moultrie, 234 The Deserted Village, Oliver Goldsmith, 235 APPENDIX. Pulpit Eloquence — Conditions of its Success, S. N. Griffith, A. M,, 237 SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS. With a little preparation before recitation, the principles of the "Analysis of Elocution" contained in this book may be taught to a class or school in such a manner as to awaken a genuine interest in the subject. The teacher should lead the exercise, or give the model, and the pupil should follow, with- out hesitation, as directed. For instance : if the drill is upon Position or Gesture, the teacher will place himself in such a position as to be easily seen by all who take part, (or he may place a student in this conspicuous position, who will repeat the model from the teacher to the class,) and commence with the first position. All having taken it promptly, he will pass to the second. Great care should be taken that all have just the position required ; feet separated alike, body at rest, and the same self-control exhibited by each. The ungraceful should be corrected and encouraged. These positions should be repeated every day, in recitation. Whenever the student rises to recite, he may practice position, and, as he proceeds with the reci- tation, he may practice gesture and vocalization. Having practiced the positions, proceed to the fifteen systematic ges- tures with the right hand, as represented by the cuts ; first to the lower horizontal circle, then the middle, then to the upper, and vary the pitch of voice and force as you progress. Before repeating the sentences have the gestures given in concert, af- ter the teacher, by iiumber, then by the use of the voiuel ele- ments, and then by sentejiees. This exercise may be extended with profit until the school or class will repeat after the teacher a whole selection, like the " Charge of the Light Brigade," or " Excelsior," with appropriate gestures. For the purpose of cultivating an easy, graceful manner, practice walking and turn- ing until the student can come to rest in the proper position. The teacher will discourage all mannerism, affectation, or strut- ting. If these first principles are successfully introduced, the remainder of the analysis will follow naturally in the order laid down in the book — the teacher always leading the class in a II , 2 DRILL BOOK. good model. It is not intended in the foregoing drills that the pupils will have books. They follow the teacher. For conducting a reading exercise the following plan has been very successful in our experience. Every member of the class should be made to understand the object of loud reading; that it is to convey the thoughts of an author to sojne perso?i o?' persons who are supposed to be listenhig. The reader must under- stand an author himself before he can make another under- stand; hence a series of inquiries like the following, before reading, are important : What is the spirit of this selection } Is it Plaintive, Animated, Grave, Declamatory, or Humorous ? AVhat quality of voice predominates ? Repeat the qualities of voice with their corresponding emotions. Does this selection contain personations .? What is the author's object in this selection.? Can you say anything about the author ? After the selection has been read with the teacher in concert, request the different members of the class, separately, to step out and read until called to stop ; and while one reads the others listen, with books closed, and show the hand or make some sign, as soon as there is anything that is not understood. Place the class as far from you as is possible, and require them to read standing, with the book in the left hand, the upper part of it held below the chin so as to show the countenance, and permit the free use of the eyes, which should frequently be cast from the book to those who listen. Practice holding the book in concert. ist. Book in the right hand by the side — first position. 2d. Raise it and open it to place. 3d. Pass it to left hand. 4th. Right hand drop by the side. Great precision and promptness should be insisted on in this drill. In teaching Emphatic Force, let one of the students read alone until the emphatic word or sentence is reached, and then have all the class join their voices to give the expression desired. The students will soon be able to give the required force themselves, individually, by this method. Before every reading exercise, the class should give in concert and individually, if time permits, the elements of the language, exploding the vowels to acquire variety of Force and Pitch, and facility in the inflection of voice. DRILL EXERCISES. DEFINITIONS, Elocution is the embodying form, or outward expression, of eloquence, dependent upon exterior accomplishments, and cultivation of the vocal organs. Eloquence is the soul, or animating principle, of discourse, dependent upon intellectual energy and attainments. Oratory is the complicated and vital existence, resulting from the perfect harmony and combination of elocution and eloquence. Elocution, as a science, consists of rules for the just delivery of Elo- quence. As an art, it is Oral Eloquence, or Oratory. We study elocution, to acquire every external grace and accomplishment with which the delivery of oral language should be accompanied, whether in reading, recitation, or extemporaneous discourse. The exercises in the following pages are arranged : First, with reference to "■ Physical Culture ;' SECOND, " Voice Culture ;" Third, "■ Expression y ANALYSIS OF PRINCIPLES. Management of the Body, in Sitting, Stajiding, Gesture, and Use of the Breath. The Vocal Organs — Description and Use in Articulation. Alphabetical Elements, with their Combinations. 14 DRILL BOOK. Quality. ELEMENTS OF EXPRESSION. r Orotund. , Pure. J Guttural. I Impure, I Aspirate. [ Tremor. f Radical. Force | Vanishing. and { Median. Stress. | Compound. [ Tremor. I Grammatical. I Rhetorical. Pitch. [ Diatonic Scale. Chromatic Scale. r Quick. 1 Very Quick. TlME.^ Moderate. I Slow. [Very Slow. f Rising. Inflection. ^ ^^"^"^^ I Circumflex. [ Wave. Transition, Personation, and Expression. APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. PHYSICAL CULTURE. Gymnastic and calisthenic exercises are invaluable aids to the culture and development of the bodily organs, for purposes of vocalization. The organs of the voice require vigor and pliancy of muscle, to perform their office with energy and effect. Before proceeding to the vocal gymnastics, it is indispensable, almost, to practice a series of muscular exercises, adapted to the expansion of the chest, freedom of the circulation, and general vitality of the whole system. We suggest the following : First, stand firmly upon both feet, hands upon the hips, fingers in front, head erect, so as to throw the larynx directly over the wind-pipe in a perpendicular line ; bring the arms, thus adjusted, with hands pressed firmly against the waist, back and down, six times in succession ; the shoulders will be brought down and back, head up, chest thrown forward. Keeping the hands in this position, breathe freely, filling the lungs to the utmost, emitting the breath slowly. Now bring the hands, clenched tightly, against the sides of the chest ; thrust the right fist forward — keeping the head up and chest forward, whole body firm ; bring it back, and repeat six times ; left the same ; then both fists ; then right up six times ; then left ; then both ; then right down six times ; left, the same ; APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. ^ - then both. Now clench the fists tightly, and press them under the arm -pits, throwing the chest as well forward as possible, shoulders down and back, head erect ; thrust the fists down the sides, and return, six times, with the utmost energy. Now, keeping the head, shoulders and chest still the same, extend the hands forward, palms open and facing, bring both back as far as the bones and muscles of the shoulders will admit, without bending arms at elbows. Now thrust the body to the right, knees and feet firm, and strike the left side with open palms, vigorously ; repeat, with body to the left. Now, with arms akimbo, thrust the right foot forward (kicking) with energy, six times ; left, same. Now place the clenched fists in the small of the back, with great force ; throw the whole body backwards, feet and knees firm, filling the lungs to the utmost, and uttering, as you go over, the alphabetical element, " a" then long " o" then long " e" If these movements have been made with great energy and precision, the blood is circulating freely, and the whole body is aglow ; and you are ready now for vocal exercises. Notice that the exercises include about one hundred and ten movements^ and may be made in five minutes^ when understood ; and they are so varied as to call into use almost every muscle of the body. They should be repeated daily, with increasing energy. HOW TO SIT. In reading, speaking, or singing, the student should sit erect, with both feet resting upon the floor ; head up, so as to use the whole trunk in res- piration. To rise in concert and in order, a class should bring the right foot back, advance left three or four inches, and when up, rest the prin- cipal weight of the body upon the right foot. This will place the whole ■class vsx first position. RHETORICAL GESTURE. Gesture is the various positions and movements of the body, or of its different parts, employed in vocal delivery ; for it embraces that part of language which is addressed to the eye, as distinguished from the voice, which is addressed to the ear. Graceful and appropriate gesture renders intonation much more pleasing and effective. The first movements of gesture generally correspond to the natural tones of the voice, and are the voluntary visible symbols of expression, produced by '.he stronger passions of the mind. These are : i. The motions of the muscles of the face. 2. The change of the color of the xiDuntenance. 3. The expressiveness of the eyes. 4. Some sudden instinctive j^ DRILL BOOK. movements, extending to different parts, and sometimes to the whole of the body. These are the results of the sympathy existing between the action of the mind and the different parts of the body ; and more or less of them are always manifested by every one who, when speaking, feels ivhat he says. From this, then, it will appear that Gesture is but an accompaniment of vocal intonation, and, for the most part, the natural result of an efficient execution of the elements of expression in a good deliveiy. As the feet and lower limbs seem to be the foundation, we shall begin by giving their different positions. The. student should be careful to keep the body erect. A good voice depends upon it. An instrument, to produce a good tone, must be kept in tune. The practice of Position and. Gesture will prove a valuable aid in physical culture, and in acquiring a graceful address. We have but two Primary positions of the feet, in speak- ing : First — The body rests on the right foot, the left a little advanced, left knee bent. Second — The body rests on the left foot, right a little ad- vanced, right knee bent. rlRST POSITION. SECOND POSITION. We have two other posi- tions, which are called Secon^ dary. They are assumed in argument, appeal, or persua- sion. The first secondary position is taken from the first primary, by advancing the un- " occupied foot, and resting the body upon it, leaning forward, the right foot brought to its ■upport. same as the first, the body resting upon the right foot. In assuming these positions, all movements should be made with the utmost simplicity, avoiding "the stage strut and parade o^ the dancing master." APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. ^ Advance, retire, or change, with case, except when the action demands energy, or marked decision. Adopt such positions only as consist of manly and simple grace, and change as the sentiment or subject changes, or as you direct attention to different parts of the audience. Avoid moving about, or '■ weaving," or moving the feet or hands while speaking. All action should be graceful in mechanism, and definite in expressive- ness. Either arm may move with grace to the extent of half a circle, verti- cally or horizontally. The extremities of the semi-circle, the middle, and a point intermediate to the middle and each extreme, give five elevations and five transverse directions — in all twenly-five points^ for gesture with either arm, thus ■ Vertical Semi-circle. — ;:, zenith ; c-, elevated ; h, horizontal ; d, down- wards ; n.r., nadir or rest. Transverse Semi-circle. — c, across the body ; / fonvards ; q, oblique ; X, extended ; b^ backwards. Motions towards the Jbody indicate self-esteem, egotism, or invitation ; from the body, command or repulsion ; expanding gestures express liberality, distribution, acquiescence, or candor ; contracting gestures, frugality, reserve, or collection ; rising motions express suspension, climax, or appeal ; falling motions, completion, declaration, or response ; a stidden i'/*?^ expresses doubt, meditation, or listening ; a sudden movement, decision or discovery ; a broad and sweeping range of gesture illustrates a general statement, or expresses boldness, freedom, and self-possession ; a limited range denotes DRILL BOOK. diffidence or constraint, or illustrates a subordinate point ; rigidity of the muscles indicates firmness, strength, or effort ; laxity denotes languor or weakness ; sloiu motions are expressive of gentleness, caution, delibetation, etc. ; and qtiick motions, of harshness, temerity, etc. STUDIES IN GESTURE. APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. jq INTRODUCTION TO AN AUDIENCE. The speaker should present himself to the audience with modesty, and without any show of self-consequence ; and, at the same time, he should avoid obsequiousness, and every thing opposed to true dignity and self- respect. His countenance should be composed; he should feel the importance of the subject and of the occasion. He should not stare, nor hasten too much to begin. Be deliberate and calm, and be in possession of your self-possession. 2Q DRILL BOOK. POSTURES OF THE HANDS AND FINGERS. The prevention of awkwardness, and a security of expressiveness and grace, may greatly depend on the natural and agreeable positions of the hands and fingers. Every one knows that we can, with the hand, call or dismiss, invite or repel, threaten or sicpplicate, ask or deny, encouj'age or discourage, show joy or sorrow, detestation or fear, admiration or respect, and how much farther their power of expression may be extended is diffi- cult to say. The palm up generally indicates elevated sentiments ; palm down, the reverse. The other expressions will be governed by feehng. He may now, with a suitable deliberation, and with a step of moderate firmness and length, take his position with his face directed to the audience. A bow, being the most marked and appropriate symbol of respect, should be made on the last step going to his place upon the platform. The final bow, on leaving the stage, may be made on the left foot second, if it be suitable. In making a graceful bow, there should be a gentle bend of the whole body ; the center of gravity should be kept near the heel of the advanced foot, so as not to throw the weight of the body on the ball of it ; the eyes should not be permitted to fall below the person addressed ; and the arms should lightly move forward, and a little inward, as they naturally do when the boiy is bent, but without any apparent voluntary effort. On raising himself into the erect position from the introductory bow, the speaker should fall back into the first position of the advanced foot. In this position he commences to speak. Mr. President, Mr. Speaker, Fellow-Citi- zens, etc. This may be called the speaking attitude of the feet and body. Students, or individuals, should here stop and train themselves for some time. Pupils at school, and those at academies and colleges, too, may be trained in classes on the bow, combined with the changes of the position of the feet. As the pupil advances to any of the second positions, let him occa- sionally be directed to advance with a bow, and fall back again into the speaking attitude. This may be done at first in the class, and afterward separately before the class, by fronting the class as an audience. Students should never be called upon to recite before an audience until they have been trained in iho. positions and gestures. The stroke of the hand terminates on the emphatic word. Be careful not to ' saw the air " with the hands ; move them in curved lines. They should move steadily, and rest on the emphatic word, returning to the side after the emotion is expressed that called them into action. In the following sentences, the emphatic word upon which the hand rests is italicized. 1. " They grew in beauty side by sideT 2. "They filled one home \^\\h glee." (Both hands — middle circle — palm up.) APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. 3. " Their graves are severed far and wide.'' (Right hand on " graves' — lower circle — rising to middle circle on "far" and " wide," and extending to the right.) 4. " 'Neath 7nount and stream and sea!' (The hand moves upward to upper circle on " mount," and falls to lower circle on " stream" and " sea,") Do not repeat the same gesture in a stanza or paragraph. In the follow- ing lines the palm of the right hand is up, on the word " reward," directed to the middle circle in front, and on the word " spurns" it is down, and moves to the right. It is brought to the heart on the word " bosom," and middle finger is pressed inward ; on the word " high" it is directed upward to upper circle, palm up, etc., etc. Continue the gestures without duplicating either to the end of the quotation : And his rezvard you ask ! Reward he spurns. For him the father's generous bosom burns ; For him on high the widow's /raivr shall go ; For him the orphans pearly tear-drops ^/^^w. His boon the richest e'er to mortals given — Approving conscience and the smile oi Heavev. These exercises may be repeated until the awkward and ungraceful can make them elegantly. Even children in the primary school may be bene- fitted by this drill. We add other sentences for " combination exercises" in gesture, position, and voice. They may be omitted until the student has practiced the voice exercises. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, Joy quickens his pulse — all his hardships seem o'e", And a murmur of happiness steels through his rest — " O God thou hast blest me — I ask for no more." Ah ! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye ? Ah ! what is that sound which now larums his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky ! 'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere ! He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck ; Amazement confronts him with images dire — Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck — The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ! If ye are beasts, then stand here like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife I If ye are men — follow me ! Strike down yon guard, gain the mountain passes, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at old Ther- mopylae ! DRILL BOOK. Look to your hearths, my lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ! Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked rebellion, with the torch and ax. 4- I warn you, your labor is lost ; you will not extinguish it, you will not confuse it. Far easier to drag the rock from the bottom of the sea, than the sentiment of right from the heart of the people ! 5. Quick ! man the life-boat ! see yon bark that drives before the blast ! There's a rock a-head, the night is dark, and the storm comes thick and fast. 6. They did not legislate, they did not enact, but they ordained that the people of these United States should be free. Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven yielded to your philosophy ; the temptations of earth could not seduce your patriotism. As Ceesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honor hnii ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are team's for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honor for his valor ; and death for his ambition. 9- Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turned in air. Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd . Plung'd in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke ; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not, Not the six hundred. Strike ! — as said the anvil to the hammer — Strike ! and never let your iron cool ! Up head, my boy ; speak bravely —never stammer. For fear the world will .set you down a fool ! BREATHING EXERCISES, - -^ We have no time allowed for shilly-shally, But seventy years allotted to the best : Dowm with the rock ; plough up the fruitful valley : Work out your purpose — leave to God the rest. You have a purpose — should have — then begin it ; An honest, manly purpose is a power, Which, if you straightway seize the minute, Will make its progress surer every hour. Build up your fortunes by it ; lay them deeply ; Make your foundations sure ; then, day by day. Rear the great walls — a fortress — never cheaply — Good purposes demand the great outlay. Strength, faith, devotion — thought and resolution ! These make your capital — these freely spend ! Once sure of your design, the execution Needs all that you can give it — to the end ! Oh ! boy — man ! what a ^\■orld is in the keeping Of him who nobly aims and bravely toils ; Wake to great deeds ! we'll all have time for sleeping. When " we have shuffled off our mortal coils." BREATHING EXERCISES. ' Deep breathing with the lips closed, inhaling as long as possible, and exhaling slowly, is very beneficial. Having inflated the lungs to their utmost capacity, form the breath into the element of long o, in its escape through the vocal organs. This exercise should be frequently repeated, as the voice will be strengthened thereby, and the capacity of the chest greatly increased. Do not raise the shoulders or the upper part of the chest alone when you breathe. Breathe as a healthy child breathes, by the expansion and contraction of abdominal and intercostal muscles. Such breathing will improve the health, and be of great assistance in continuous reading or speaking. Great care is necessary in converting the breath into voice. Do not waste breath ; use it economi- cally, or hoarseness will follow. Much practice on the vocal elements, with all the varieties of pitch, then the utterance of words, then of sentences, and finally of whole paragraphs, is necessary in learning to use the breath, and in acquiring judgment and taste in vocalizing. Never speak when the lungs are exhausted. Keep them well injiated. SPECIAL DIRECTIONS FOR BREATHING. I. Place yourself in a perfectly erect but easy posture ; the weight of the body resting on one foot ; the feet at a moderate distance, the one in ad- ^ . DRILL BOOK. vance of the other ; the arms akimbo ; the fingers pressing on the abdominal muscles, in front, and the thumbs on the dorsal muscles, on each side of the spine ; the chest freely expanded and fully projected ; the shoulders held backward and downward , the head perfectly vertical. 2. Having thus complied with the preliminar}^ conditions of a free and unembarrassed action of the organs, draw in and give out the breath very fully and very slowly, about a dozen times in succession. 3. Draw in a very full breath, and send it forth in a prolonged sound of the letter h. In the act of inspiration, take in as much breath as you can contain. In that of expiration, retain all you can, and give out as little as possible, merely sufficient to keep the sound of h audible. 4. Draw in a very full breath, as before, and emit it with a lively, expulsive force, in the sound of h, but little prolonged, in the style of a moderate, whispered cough. 5. Draw in the breath, as already directed, and emit it with a sudden and violent explosion, in a very brief sound of the letter h, in the style of an ab- rupt and forcible, but whispered cough. The breath is, in this mode of ex- piration, thrown out with abrupt violence. Each of the above exercises should be repeated often, by the student, in his room, or while walking ; and may be given with the gymnastic exercises previously introduced. Utter this couplet as many times as possible, with one breath : Come one — come all ! This rock shall fly From its firm base, as soon as /. THE ORGANS OF SPEECH.— HOW TO USE THEM. The lungs constitute the bellows of the speaking apparatus. The larynx, the pharynx, the soft palate, the nasal passage and the mouth, modify the breath into the elementary sounds of speech. The lungs are enclosed within the chest ; and, in healthful respiration, they are acted on chiefly by upward pressure of the diaphragm, or midriff, which separates the chest from the abdomen, and this upward pressure is caused by the contraction of the abdominal and dorsal muscles. (Notice the breath- ing of a healthy child.) In faulty respiration, the sides of the chest are drawn in upon the lungs, to force out the breath, and the natur:,! action of the diapJiragin is reversed. This is exemplified by stammerers. ORGANS OF SPEECH. ^ Ths breath, driven from the lungs, ascends the wind-pipe ; and its emis- sion is rendered audible only by the resistance which it meets with in the throat, the nostrils, or the mouth. At the top of the wind-pipe is the larynx — the seat of the voice. The larynx is, practically, a box, the cavity of which is susceptible of a multitude of modifications, affecting the pitch, force, and quality of the voice ; though these may be modified, also, by the tongue, teeth, and lips. The orifice of the larynx, the glottis, may be perfectly closed, fully expanded, or con- tracted in any degree, by the different muscles and the elasticity of its diifer- ent coats. DIAGRAM OF THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 1. The lar^'nx. 2. The pharynx. 3. The soft palate. 4. The nasal passage. 5. Back of tongue, "l 6. Front of tongue. 7. Point of tongue. 8. Lips J When the whole of the guttural passage is fully expanded, the passing breath creates no sound ; but when the glottis, or aperture of the larynx, is definitely narrowed, by the action of the will, its edges vibrate, and pro- duce the sound which is called voice. Voice is thus the result of vibration of the edges of the glottis J caused by the air being propelled through by the propelling power beloiv. The edges of the glottis have been named " vocal ligaments." Above the glottis, and forming part of the larynx, is what may be considered as a pair of lips, the aperture between which is called the "superior," or " false glottis." The latter, and the passage between the larynx and the mouth, are suscep- tible of a variety of changes of shape and expansion. The passage between the larynx and the mouth is called the phar}'nx. This cavity is susceptible of various degrees of expansion and contraction ; and these modifications of the pharynx, assisted by the position of the pen- /- DRILL BOOK. dulous soft palate, play an important part in the formation of the elements of speech and expression. The percussive effect of consonants results mainly from the elasticity of the muscles of the pharynx, which compress the breath behind the articulating organs, in proportion as the latter restrain its issue through the mouth. In forming the vowels, the pharynx is for one set of sounds partially, and for another ^^X. fully, expanded. In front of the pharynx is the mouth ; and at the top of the pharynx, be- hind the soft palate, is the entrance to the nasal passages. When the soft palate is raised, it prevents the breath from passing into the nose ; and when it is depressed, the breath flows through the nostrils, as well as into the mouth. The soft palate acts the part of a double valve, closing the nasal passage by upward pressure, and closing the mouth by downward contact with the tongue. Both the passages are shut in this manner, by formmg the consonant " k" The oral passage is closed, and the nasal passage open, in forming " ng!' Both passages are open in forming the French " in" " on^' etc. And the oral passage is open, and the nasal passage shut, in forming the vowels. The roof of the mouth is an arch ; and the tongue, as its various parts — the back, the front, or the point — are presented to the back, the front, or the rim of the palatal arch, or the upper gum, gives a great variety of configurations to the channel of the mouth. (See cut.) 1. Back. 2. Front. 3. Point. P^-om each of these configurations the passing breath or voice receives an audibly different effect, of vowel or of consonant quality. Further modi- fications result from the degree of contraction of the lips, the teeth, and the condition of the guttural passages. ORGANS OF SPEECH. ^^ To give the voice the full effect of round, smooth, and agreeable tone, the free use of the cavity of the mouth is indispensable ; the whole mouth must be thrown open, by the unimpeded action and movement of the lower jaw. A smothered, imperfect, and lifeless utterance is the necessary consequence of restraint in the play of this viost effective implement of speech. A liberal opening of the mouth is the only condition on "which a free a7td effective utter- ance can be proauced. The teeth. These instruments, by their hard and sonorous texture, serve to compact and define the volume of the voice, while they aid one of the im- portant purposes of distinct articulation in the function of speech. Used with exact adaptation to the office, they give a clear and distinct character to enunciation ; but remissly exerted, they cause a coarse hissing, resembling the sibilation of the inferior animals. The lips. These important aids to articulation, not only give distinctness to utterance, but fullness of effect to the sounds of the voice. Imperfectly used, they produce an obscure mumbling, instead of definite enunciation ; and, too slightly parted, they confine the voice within the mouth and throat, instead of giving it free egress and emissive force. In vigorous speech, right- ly executed, the lips are slightly rounded, and even partially, though not boldly, projected. They thus become most effective aids to the definite pi-ojection and con- veyance of vocal sound; they emit the voice well moulded, and, as it were exactly aimed at the ear. The following cuts will give some idea of the variety of opening and form the teeth, lips, and mouth assume in uttering the long and short vowels. All do not show the teeth quite as much as is indicated in the cut, but all should open them as much -. LONG. SHORT, edge, ell, LONG. SHORT. all, ox. awe, odd, or. what. 28 DRILL BOOK. 5. ',ONG. old, ode, I.ONG. SHORT. ooze, pull, ^^; coo, wool, rule. ui-n, urr, bur. We may now enter upon the study and practice of the elements of the English language, for the purpose of acquiring A GOOD ARTICULATION. A good articulation consists in giving every letter in a syl- lable its due proportion of sound, according to the standard of pronunciation, and in making such a distinction between the syllables of which words are composed, that the ear shall with- out difficulty acknowledge their number, and perceive at once to which syllable each letter belongs. Where these particulars are not observed, the articulation is defective. A good articulation may be acquired by carefully repeating aloud, and in a whisper, the elements of the language. These elements are divided into three classes, Vocals, Sub- Vocals, and Aspirates. Vocals are pure voice, sub- vocals are part voice, aspirates pure breath. The vowels, or vocal sounds, are arranged in the following table for indi- yidjal and class practice : A long, as hi ale, fate. O long, as in old, dome. A short, as in at, hat. short, as in ox, not. A Italian, as in arm, far. long, as in move, prove. A broad, as in all. fall. (J lo7ig, as in mute, cube. E long, as in eve, mete. U short, as in up, tub. E short, as in end, bend. U middle, as /;; pull, push. I long, as in ice, child. Oi, as in oil. choice, noise. I short, as in pin, whip. On, as in out, sound. A GOOD ARTICULATION. ^ Speak the word distinctly and then the element, exploding it with variety of force and on different notes of the scale. For flexibility of voice and good articulation, there is no better exercise than the utterance of the vowel ele- ments with the different inflections, first rising, then falling, then the circum- flexes. The practice of exploding the vocal elements with a Consonant pre- fixed, first a Sub-Vocal Consonant, then an Aspirate, is of great value in ac- quiring control of the mouth, teeth, and lips. Sub-Vocals or Vocal Consonants should be treated, in the practice, as the Vocals in the preceding table. They are formed by the vibration of the Vocal chords, modified by the organs of speech : B, as in bat, bag. R, {tnlied,) run. rap.. D, as in dun. debt. R, as in for, far. G, as in gun, gag. Th as in thine, thus. J, as m jib, joy. V, as in vent, valve. 2, as in let, lull. W, as in went. wall. M, as in man, main. F, as in yes. young. iV, as in nun, nay. Z, as in zeal, as, was. A^g, as in sing, king. Zh, or Z, as in azure leisure. Prolong the Sub-Vocal Consonants as follows : b at d -un. and then pronounce the Sub-Vocal without uttering the word. Then give the Sub- Vocals, with the inflections ; b' b' d' d' g' g- j' j' 1' r etc. The Aspirate Consonants should be repeated according to the table. Be careful not to waste breath, and utter them with no more power than they require in words. F, as in fit, fame, fife. T, as in top, time. tune. H, as in hat, hope, hay. Ch, as in chat, church. K, as in kid, car. Sh, as in shun, shade, gash. P, as in pit, pin, pupil. Th, as in thin, thank, thick. S, as in suit, dose. IVh, as in when. whit. The Elements, we repeat, afford a better exercise in Articulation than words connected to form sense. The drill on the Elements should form a daily exercise in all our primary schools. Change the pitch and force often, in reciting them. If the student will study Webster's and Worcester's Dic- tionaries, especially the introduction in regard to the Elements of the English language, he will be well repaid for his trouble. If we give the Elements properly, we shall have no trouble with their con- struction into words and sentences. We give below, the Elements, classified according to the action of the organs of speech : Oral and Laryngeal Sounds, (so called because they are formed by the mouth and larynx.) ^Q DRILL BOOK. I. A-\l ; 2. ^-rm ; 3. A-n ; 4. ^-ve ; 5. Oo-ze, l.-00-k ; 6. E-rr ; 7. ^-nd ; 8. /-n ; g. ^/-r ; 10. [/-p ; 11. 0-r ; 12. (9-n ; 13. A-\e ; 14. /-ce ;' 15. 6>-ld ; 16. Ou-r; 17. Oi-\; 18. ^-se (verb, /^-w^jy C/-se {no\in, s/w7'i!). Labial, or Lip Sounds— formed by the lips. I. B-a.-de ; 2. /'-i./e ; 3. A/.a.-wi ; 4. ^-oe ; 5. V-z\-vt ; 6. 7^-i-/e. Palatic, or Palate Sounds— formed by the action of the palate. I. C-a-i^e ; 2. G-3i-g ; 3. F-e. Aspirate, or Breathing Sounds— formed by the breath. Nasal, or Nostril Sounds — formed by the nostrils. I, N-M-11 ; 2. Si-7tg. Lingual, or Tongue Sounds— formed by the tongue. I L-M-ll ; 2. i't'-ap ; 3. Fa-r. Syllabic Combinations — for further practice in articulation. Difficult Combinations for Pronunciation. Give the italicized Element distinctly. SLTid trembles frames hlackendst hedged b2.xb trembled framed croney vk han^ trembledst Xangh elb pigs \i-a.Xids rib laughs hulbs waggest hdsbed ribs laughed hulbed wagged end ribbed laughest hold wage ends robe waft holds waged ended robes wafts elf stran^^ h.a.ndedst robed waftest elfs frin^^ hind czndle with delft fringed hinds candles hequeath hulge hreath ■^xobe handles hequeathed rnxlks hreadth probes handled heneath milked breadths probed handledst this silks hfth. pxobedst handiest them cli# sixth. probest fondles then cli#r thousandth orb fondled truchles glow mulct orbed fondledst trucklest glows mulcts orbs Xondlest truckled glozvcd elm hand Aove truckledst mangles elms hznds ^oves uncle mangiest whelmed tronble /lame thinZ'i- mangled whelms troubles Jlames t\\\nkest mangledst fallen tronblest trifle sacked haggled false troubled trifles packed haggles fallest troub ledst trifled hlacken bragged hats pehble trifledst hlackens hraggedst halts p^bles tri/lest hlackenst hrags Selves tremble frame hlackened hedge shelved A GOOD ARTICULATION. 31 ba//x entombed ?i\nched chps surf ^Ich entombedst eYincid cWppest hwrgk iilched ban^j- \\z.ngs clipped hurghs vf^d^lth senififj/ hsinged chppedst harge 'htd.lths x^xige S07lgS h^rbs urged tmth xzx\ged stve7tgt/t h2.rbed \vark Xrwtlis i-ake wz.nts plwzk hsixbest harked hum//^ry v:eniest xv^pled hzxbedsi 2.rc attem/^ fi«j- x'v^pledst hz-rd dircs attem//j- ^ndest prz.y hz.rds hdixked tombs fimch prz.yed \\\\2irfed I thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of 7ny thumb. Man watits but liitle here below, nor wants that little long. Foreign /raz/t?/ enlarges and liberalizes the mind. They were 7vreuched by the hand of violence. Their sitigcd tops, though bare, stand on the blasted heath. The strength of his nostrils is terrible. ' A gentle current rippled by. Do you like herbs in your broth ? Thou barb'st the dart that zvouuds thee. Thou barUd'st the dart by which he fell. Many arks were seen floating down the stream. There <^«ryiY'^ and hozvled, within, unseen. The culprit was hta-led from the Tarpeian rock. Wor^j-, v^-Qxds, wor^j ! Are the goods zvharfed? It was strongly urged upon him. Remark' st thou that ? Alark'st thou ? He snarls, but dares not bite. Amid, say ye ? Arf?id my lord ! They have ar?ns in their ha7jds. The delinquent was burnd in the hand, Wellington lea7-7idihe art of war under his brother, in India. A boundless song biwsts from the grove. It was union of hearts as well as hands. Ea7'tJis ample breast. He sea7'Lhed the house for it. It hu7-ts me. Thou hurt'st his feelings. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust t/wee thousa7id thistles //trough the /^ick of his ^,^umh. Perciva/'j- zxts and ^xtrar/j-. He boaj-''^-, he tAvi.y/'j- the teaVj to suit the sevexal sects. Axnidst the xnists, he thru.y^j- his fists against the iposts. The swan swam over the sea ; well swum, swan. The swan swam back again ; well swum, swan. He jawed six j-/eek j/im japlingj-. Thou 7V7'eath'dst and 77iuzzled'st the far-fetched ox. Avoid the affectations exemplified in the last column of the following table : -^ DRILL BOOK. Correct Orthography. Pronunciation. card kard cart kart guard g3-id regard re-gard candle kan-dl garrison gar-re-sun carriage guide Incorrect or Affected Pronunciation kyard kyart gyard re-gj'ard kyan-dl gyar-resun kar-ridzh kyar-ridzh .gid . guise guile beguile . sky kind -gil---- -bi-gil . -ski .kind _ . .gyid .g>-is - gyii be-g>'il -skyi .kyind .man-kvind mankind .man-kind catechise kat-e-kis kyat-e-kyis General Rule.- — Do not pervert, nor omit without good authority, the sound of any letter or syllable of a word. examples. Gtt for g^t. Souns for sounds. H^ " h(2ve. Fiels fielafe. K^tch " catch. Sofly " soffly. G^th'er *' g^th'er. Wepst " wep/st. Stzd'y " st^'ad'y. Kindl'st *« kindlVst. Crit'er " creat'ure. Armst " armVst. Good'mss " good'nc-ss. Gen'ral " genVr al. Hon'ist •« hon'est. Sep' rate " sep'a rate. Hun'dz^rd " hund'red. Mis'ries " misVr ies. Sav'zj " sav'rtge. Diffrence " differ ence. Maxf'n'ing £' morn'ing. Ex'lent " exV^/lent. Cli'mzt cli'nirtte. Comp'ny " com'prt; ny. Si'hmt " si'lmt. Liv'in " \W\ng. Muh'duz mur'ders. Lenth'en le;?^th'en. MOVEMENT OF THE SPEAKING VOICE. The speaking voice differs from the singing voice only in this : In singing, the voice is stationary on a given note for a definite time. In speaking, it is not stationary, but moves upward and downward to ex- press sense. If it moves in straight lines, it is sound without sense. This may be exemplified as follows : When the letter z, as heard in the word eye, is pronounced as an alphabet letter, without emotion, there will be two sounds heard in close succession. The first has the sound of a, in a/ (which is the third vocal element,) and the MOVEMENT OF THE SPEAKING VOICE. ^^ second, of e, in he ; a-e-ae-ae-ay-i. 'The first element is made to issue from the organs with a degree of fullness and force, while the second is made by a gradually diminishing sound, vanishing into silence. During the pronun- ciation, the voice gradually rises or slides upward through the interval of a tone ; the beginning of the a and the termination of the e being severally the inferior and superior extremes of this tone. This may be proven by any one who is able to sound the diatonic scale discreetly. Let him commence with a, and strike the several points of this scale, by the alternate use of a and ^, drawing out each as a note, and making a palpable pause between the sounds. This will make him familiar with the effect of these letters, when heard on the extremes of a tone. Then let him rise, by a slide of the voice, (or concretely,) through the several places of the scale, making the several points of a strongly, and e faintly, by the alternate use of a and /// and agued fear ! Mend, and charge home ! Or, by the fires of heaven I I'll leave the foe. And make my wars on YOU ! Look tot ! Come on ! 4- Poison be their drink ! Gall — worse than gall — the daintiest that they taste ! Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ! Their chiefest prospect, murlhering basilisks ! Their softest touch, as smart as lizard's stings ! Thou standt's at length before me undisguised — Of all earth's groveling crew, the most accursed. Thou worm ! thou viper ! — to thy native earth Return ! Away ! Thou art too base for man To tread upon ! Thou scum ! thou reptile ! Be, then, his love accursed ! — since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe ; — 44 DRILL BOOK. Nay, cursed be thou ' since, against his, thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable ' which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; — myself am hell ; — And in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide — To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million , laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies. And what's his reason ? I am a Jew ! Hath not a Jew eyes ? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? Is he not fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter, as a Christian is? If you stab us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poison us, do we not die ? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ' If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Re- venge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will exe- cute • and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction. ASPIRATE QUALITY. The agitating character of certain emotions disturbs the play of the vocal organs, preventing the purity of tone of tranquility, causing aspirated quality, or redundant breath, added to vocal sound — producing a positive impurity of tone, which has a grating effect on the ear. Fear, horror, disgust, aver- sion, and discontent, generally take this quality. To master it, begin with the whispering exercises. EXAMPLES. Hark ! I hear the bugles of the enemy ! They are on their march along the bank of the river ! We must retreat instantly, or be cut off from our boats ! I see the head of their column already rising over the height! Our only safety is in the screen of this hedge. Keep close to it — be silent — and stoop as you run ' For the boats ' Forward ! All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep ' All heaven and earth are still : from the high host Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain coast, 45 QUALITIES OF VOICE. All is concentrated in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf, is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all, Creator and Defence. 3. Soldiers ' You are now within a few steps of the enemy's outpost ! Our scouts report them as slumbering in parties around their watch-fires, and utterly unprepared for our approach. A swift and noiseless advance around that projecting rock, and we are upon them ! — we capture them without the possibility of resistance ! One disorderly noise or motion may leave us at the mercy of their advanced guard. Let every man keep the strictest si- lence, under pain of instant death ! How ill this taper bums ! — Ha ! who comes here ? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me ! — Art thou any thing ? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare ? Speak to me, what thou art ] Alack ! I'm afraid they have awaked, and 'tis not done ! The attempt, and not the deed, confounds us. Hark ' I laid their daggers ready. We could not miss them ! TREMOR QUALITY. The first step towards this quality is in the convulsive catch of sobbing. By degrees, this increases in frequency ; and the cry becomes, at last, the rapid iteration of the tremor. The use of the tremor increases the force of the expression of all other intervals ; for, since crying is the ultimate voice of distress, and its tremulous characteristic is adopted as the means for mark- ing a very great intensity of feeling, tremulous speech is the utmost practi- cable crying on words. When mirth or sorrow is in the mind, it is hard to restrain its habitual expression. It is apparent in extreme feebleness, from age, exhaustion, sickness, fatigue, grief, and even joy, and other feelings, in which ardor or extreme tenderness predominates. EXAMPLES. I. 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 ! 46 DRILL BOOK. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of time. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat ; No eye hath seen such scare-crowds ! My mother ! when I learned that thou w^ast dead. Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss, Perhaps a tear — if souls can weep in bliss ! Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers, Yes ! I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day ; I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away ; And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such? It was. Where thou art gon'' Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore. The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! Thy maidens grieved themselves at my concern. Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. What ardently I wished, I long believed ; And, disappointed still, was still deceived. Ky expectation every day beguiled — Dupe of to-morrow, even from a child : Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went ; 'Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned, at last, submission to my lot ; But, though I less deplore thee, ne'er forgot. 5. O my dear father ! — Restoration, hang Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made ! Had you not .been their father, these white flakes Had challenged pity of them. Was tliis a face To be exposed against the warring winds ? To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder? In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick, cross lightning? — to watch, (poor perdu,) With this thin helm ! Mine enemy's dog, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father. QUALITIES OF VOICE, .- To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, In short and musty straw? Alack, alack ! 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once. Had not concluded all ! Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness : accord- ing to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions 1 Wash me thoroughly from mme iniquity and cleanse me from my sm. For I acknowledge my transgressions; and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil m thy sight. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities ! Deliver me from blood- guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation ! Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two ^ I trouble thee too much ; but thou art willing. I should not urge thy duty past thy might, I know young bloods look for a time of rest, I will not hold thee long ; if I do live, . I will be good to thee. This is a sleepy tune : — O murderous Slumber ! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy. That plays thee music? — Gentle knave, good night ! I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument : I'll take it from thee ; and. good boy, good night I My boy refused his food, forgot to play, And sickened on the water, day by day ; He smiled more seldom on his mother's smile ; He prattled less, m accents void of guile, Of that wild land, beyond the golden wave, Where I. not he, was doomed to be a slave; Cold o'er his limbs the listless languor grew : Paleness came o'er his eye of placid blue, — Pale mourned the lily where the rose had died ; And timid, trembling, came he to my side. He was my all on earth. Oh ! who can speak The anxious mother's too prophetic woe. Who sees death feeding on her dear child's cheek, And strives, m vain, to think it is not so? Ah • many a sad and sleepless night I passed. O'er his couch, listening in the pausing blast. While on his brow, more sad from hour to hour Drooped wan dejection, like a fading flower ! 9- And now my soul is poured out upon me ; the days of affliction have taken hold upon me. My bones are pierced in me, in the night season : /, O DRILL BOOK. and my sinews take no rest. He hath cast me into the mire ; and I am become like dust and ashes. I cry unto thee, and thou dost not hear me : I stand up, and thou regardest me not. Thou art become cruel to me : with thy strong hand thou opposest thyself against me. Thou liftest me up to the wind ; thou causest me to ride upon it, and dissolvest my sub- stance. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house ap- pointed for all living ! PITCH. Pitch is ihsLt place or degree of elevation which any note or sound has in a scale of music, or in a scale of the compass of the voice. Much exercise on the following table should be taken, in order to famil- iarize the ear and the organs of the voice in this most important function. PITCH OF SPEECH. ■^ lO Mi e e a a ah ah aw oh 00 u-m Mr. President. <^ 8 Do e e a a ah ah aw oh 00 u-rn Mr. President. 5 5 Sol e e a a ah ah aw oh oo u-rn Mr. President. g 3 Mi e e a a ah ah aw oh oo u-rn Mr. President. ^ I Do e e a a ah ah aw oh oo u-rn Mr. President. The following diagram will represent to the eye an important vocal prac- tice. Produce the full vowel elements with the upward and downward movements of the speaking voice as indicated by the figures. 2nd. 3rd_. 4th. 5 th. 6th. 7th. 8th. ^^raffis 4-f The speaking voice, in good elocution^ seldom rises higher than a sixth above the lowest note of its compass. Supposing the lowest note which can be made with a full intonation to be F, the following scheme will show the relative pitch of keys, adapted to the expression of different kinds of senti- ments. QUALITIES OF VOICE. KEYS OF THE SPEAKING VOICE. 49 lO A Mi 9 G Re 8 7 F E Do Si 6 D La 5 C Sol 4 3 .. A Fa Mi 2 G Re ^ F Do Vociferatio7t X Very spirited declainatio7i... Spirited declatnation imated discourse. Ordinary discourse Moderate conversation Dignified narrative Solejiin or sublime descriptiofi Young men ! ahoy ! ! Wherefore do you droop, - Three millions of people, etc. Gentlemen, I address the men who govern us, — Quick ! man the life-boat, — When public bodies are to be ad- dressed, — I remember once riding from Buffalo to Nigara Falls, — Obedience is the law of God's uni- verse, — Hark ! the deep voices replying, SWEAR, OH ! SWEAR — Pitch is produced by a more or less forcible expulsion of air through the glottis, aided by the contraction or dilatation of its diameter, by the ele- vation or depression of the larynx, and by the increased or diminished size or capacity of the fauces or throat. Gravity of sounds, or a grave sound, depends on the degree of depression of the larynx, and the degree of dilatation of the glottis and fauces. Acute- ness of sounds, or an acute sound, is dependent on the degree of elevation of the larynx and the degree of contraction of the glottis and fauces. Thus, Pitch is the result of the combined action or condition of the Larynx, Glottis, and Fauces. Hence, also, grave sounds appear to come from the chest, arising from the depression of the larynx — and acute ones, from the head, arising from the elevated position of the larynx. EXAMPLES IN PITCH. Quotations, from which the noted lines above are taken, are presented first as a guide to the student. {a) Ye freemen, how long will ye stifle The vengeance that justice inspires? With treason how long will ye trifle, And shame the proud name of your sires? Out, out with the sword and the rifle, In defence of your homes and your fires. The flag of the old Revolution, Swear firmly to serve and uphold. That no treasonous breath of pollution. Shall tarnish one star of its fold. Swear ! {b) (rt) Begin on third note. (b) Orotund. Eighth note of Pitch. 50 DRILL BOOK. (if) And hark, the deep voices replying From the graves were your fathers are lying: "' Swear, oh, Sicear f {c) Orotund. First note. Begin on second note, and increase. 2. Obedience is the law of God's universe ; the inexorable decree of his providence. And evermore in the background of his love and mercy to the docile and penitent, hangs the cloud of destruction to the incorrigibly guilty. Retribution waits upon invitation. Behind all Jehovah's dealings with angels, men and devils, there lingers an immutable, inexorable, eternal MUST, {a) Obey and live, {b) refuse and perish, is the epitome of God's natural and spiritual economy. It rules in the moral and material worlds, in the destinies of individuals, of nations, and of the race. {a) Fifth note. {d) Second note, (a) I remember once riding from Buffalo to Niagara Falls, and said to a gentleman : {b) "What river is that, sir?" {c) " That," said he, " is the Niagara River." {d) " Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I ; " bright, and fair, and, glassy. How far off are the rapids ?" " Only a mile or two," was the reply. " Is it possible that, only a mile from us, we shall find the water in the turbulence which it must show when near the Falls ?" " You will find it so, sir." [e) And so I found it ; and the first sight of Niagara, I shall never forget. Now, launch your bark on that Niagara River. It is bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow ; the silver wake you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide — oars, sails, and helm in proper trim — and you set out on your pleasure excursion. Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, (f) " Young men, ahoy !" "What is it?" " The rapids are below you !" " Ha ! ha ! we have heard of the rapids, but we are not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore ; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land ! Then on, boys ! don't be alarmed — there is no danger !" (g) "Young men, ahoy there!" " What is it ?" " The rapids are below you !" {a) Third note. (b) Fifth note. (c) Third note. {d) Fourth note. (/") Tenth note — with much feeling. Increase on the narrative preceding, so thai the change shall not be too abrupt. {g) Same as above. The numbers in the quotations following refer to the numbers in the key cf the speaking voice. QUALITIES OF VOICE. - j I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our federal union. It is to that union we owe our safety at home, and our con- sideration and dignity abroad. It is to that union that we are chiefly in- debted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe school of adver- sity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great in- terests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its util- ity and its blessings ; and although our teritory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all, a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness. Gentlemen : — I address the men who govern us, and say to them, Go on ; cut off three millions of voters ; cut off eight out of nine ; and the re- sult will be the same to you, if it be not more decisive, [a) What you do not cut off is your own fault ; the absurdity of your policy of compression, your fatal incapacity, your ignorance of the present epoch, the antipathy you feel for it, and that it feels for you ; what you will not cut off is the times which are advancing, the hour now striking, the ascending movement of ideas, the gulf opening broader and deeper between yourself and the age, between the young generation and you, between the spirit of liberty and you, between the spirit of philosophy and you. (a) Increase to the end. 6. But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ? Be great in act, as you have been in thought ; Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye ! Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ; Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes. That borrow their behavior from the great. Grow great by your example ; and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution. Away ! and glister like the god of war ! GENERAL EXAMPLES IN PITCH. We multiply examples in pitch, as transition and modulation depend upon it to a great extent, and it is invaluable for voice culture. Each ex- ample should be dwelt upon until, without thought of the text, either the words or the meaning, all the energy may be given to the utterance. £•2 DRILL BOOi:. LOW — OROTUND. But ye— ye are changed since ye met me last ! There is something bright from your features passed I There is that come over your brow and eye, • which speaks of a world where the flowers must die ! Ye smile ; but your smile hath a dimness yet ; — oh, what have ye looked on since last we met ? HIGH — PURE. Away from the dwellings of care-worn men the waters are sparkling in. grove and glen ! Away from the chamber and sullen hearth the young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ! Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains, and youth is abroad in my green domains ! 3- VERY LOW — OROTUND AND GUTTURAL. How frightful the grave ! how deserted and drear ! with the howls of the storm-wind, the creaks of the bier, and the white bones all clattering to- gether ! 4- MIDDLE PITCH — PURE. How peaceful the grave — its quiet, how deep ! Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep, and flowerets perfume it with ether ! VERY HIGH — OROTUND. Lo ! the mighty sun looks forth ! Arm ! thou leader of the north ' Lo ! the mists of twilight fly ! We must vanish — thou must die ! By the sword and by the spear — by the hand that knows not fear — Sea-king ! nobly shalt thou fall ! There is joy in Odin's hall ! VARIED PITCH. {mid.) Borne by the winds, the vessel flies up to the thundering cloud. Now, tottering low, the spray-winged seas conceal the top-most shroud. {JiigH) " Pilot, the waves break o'er us fast ! Vainly our bark has striven !" {low) * Stranger, the Lord csxi rule the blast — Go, put thy trust in Heaven !" 7. OROTUND — HIGH PITCH — SHOUTING. Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yoemen ! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ' Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! QUALITIES OF VOICE: A thousand, hearts are great within my bosom ! Advance our standards, set upon our foes ! Our ancient word of courage — fair Saint George- Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms ! VARIED PITCH. To the deep, down, To the deep, down. Through the shades of sleep ; Through the cloudy strife Of death and of life ; Through the veil and the bar Of things that seem and are ; Even to the steps of the remotest throne, Down ! down ! down ! TRANSITION. We follow the exercises in pitch with prepared exercises in transition. In the practice of our profession, perhaps no ques- tion has been more frequently asked, by clergymen especially, than this : " How can I modulate and change my voice ?" " I am monotonous," etc. We commend the following suggestions and practice to such : There is a medium pitch of voice, differing in different individuals, from which ascent and descent, through its whole compass, are easy and natural. This is the natural ///c/^. It is the pitch most frequently heard in conversation. It is that note which predominates in good reading and speaking, and is always in accordance with the sentiment. Some speakers, almost immediately after commencing their discourse, run up to the top of the voice, and continue that pitch through the longest portion of an address, thereby pro- ducing a continuous elevated monotony. This is tiresome and offensive in the highest degree. This high pitch is commonly united with great loudness, with an entire defect of cadence, - , DRILL BOOK. 54 which aggravate the evil. Others, again, very soon fall to the lowest pitch, and are unable to rise again. They can not make a cadence, because they can not descend below the pitch they have assumed. They can not speak with force, because if the voice descends below a certain point, it ceases to be able to employ force, and finally becomes inaudible. In order, there- fore^ to maintain fullness and stretigth of tone, we 7nust set out with about the fourth degree fro7n the lowest note, front which the voice can be easily managed, both in its einployinent of force and modula- tion. Again, let the student accustom himself, by frequent practice, to rise and fall upon a sentence or sentences selected for the purpose, through the whole compass of the voice. Such a practice was common with ancient orators, both Roman and Grecian, and will be the most effectual method, after the ele- ments of expression are at complete command, of removing the blemishes above described, by giving a ready command over the speaking scale. The sentence below may be taken for exercise, which should be read according to the different notations exhibited by the numerals at the beginning of the lines and members of sen- tences. ^ Though you untie the winds'^ and let them fight Against the^ churches f though the yesty waves ^ Confound and swallow navigation up ; ^ Tiiough bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown*^ down, ■^ Though castles topple on their wardens' heads, ^ And nature's germins tumble ^altogether, ^Even till destruction^ sickens?^ Answer me. We repeat the prepared sentence with the infections, and the figui'es de- noting the pitch : ^ The moon herself is lost in heav'^n ; %ut thou art for ever the same\ *^rejoicHng in the bright'ness of thy course\ ^ When the world is dark with tempests', '^when thunder rolls\ and lightning flies\ •'thou look'st in thy beauty from the clouds\ ^and laugh'st at the storm\ ^ But to OssHan thou look'st'' in vain\ Practice on the following with the notes changed. Increase in pitch : 'Though you untie the winds'^ and let them fight ^Against the churches ; '^though the yesty waves "^Confound and swallow navigation •''up ; ^ Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down ; TRANSITION. C r ^Though castles topple on their wardens' heads, 'And nature's germins tumble altogether, ^Even till destruction sickens?^ Answer me. ^ Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. ^ Three millions of people, ''armed in the holy cause of liberty, °and in such a country as that which we possess, ''are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. ^ Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone ; -there is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations ; %nd who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. ^ The battle, sir, is not to the strong. GENERAL DIRECTIONS. Modulations or transitions of the voice should be uniformly made at those parts of a discourse where the speaker enters on a new train of thought^ or where the sentiment takes a different turn. These parts are generally divided, in written composi- tion, by paragraphs ; and these are often entirely disregarded by many. Nothing relieves the ear more agreeably than a well regulated tran- sition. It should be effected temperately ; but whenever a speaker or reader enters on a new train of thought, notice thereof should be given to the ear, by the following means, differently modi- fied, according to existing circumstances : By a cha?tge in pitchy or by an alteration in time, as to quickness or slowness, or by a change in force, or by the use of the monotone^ for a short space, on serious passages, which often has a very strik- ing effect. All these means should be at the command of the speaker and reader, and one or more of them should be employed in the pronunciation of the first few sentences at every paragraph ; after which the voice will naturally move in a freer expansion of a more animated delivery. Clergymen and others will be able to change their manner of speaking, from a lifeless to an animated style by the above. FURTHER EXAMPLES IN TRANSITION. [This selection demands the entire range of the speaking voice, in pitch— all qualities. and varied force.] 'Hark ! the alarm-bell, 'mid the wintry storm ! ^Hear the loud shout ! the rattling engines swarm. 56 DRILL BOOxv. Hear that distracted mother's cry to save Her darling infant from a threatened grave ! That babe who lies in sleep's light pinions bound, And dreams of heaven, while hell is raging round ! ^ Forth springs the Fireman — stay! nor tempt thy fate !— He hears not — heeds not, — nay, it is too late : ^See how the timbers crash beneath his feet ' Oh, which way now is left for his retreat ? The roaring flames already bar his way. Like ravenous demons raging for their prey ! He laughs at danger, — pauses not for rest. Till the sweet charge is folded to his breast. ^Now, quick, brave youth, retrace your path ; — but, lo ! A fiery gulf yawns fearfully below ' One desperate leap ! — ^lost ! ^lost ! — the flames arise And paint their triumph on the o'erarching skies ! Not lost ! again his tottering form appears ' The applauding shouts of rapturous friends he hears ? The big drops from his manly forehead roll, And deep emotions thrill his generous soul. But struggling nature now reluctant yields ;* Down drops the arm the infant's face that shields, To bear the precious burthen all too weak ; When, hark ! — the mother's agonizing shriek ! Once more he's roused, — his eye no longer swims, And tenfold strength reanimates his limbs ; He nerves his faltering frame for one last, bound, — ''" Your child !" he cries, and sinks upon the ground ! ^ And his reward you ask ; — reward he spurns ; For him the father's generous bosorn burns, — For him on high the widow's prayer shall go, — For him the orphan's pearly tear-drop flow. His boon, — the richest e'er to mortals given, — Approving conscience, and the smile of Heaven ! OROTUND — HIGH PITCH. ^ Rouse, ye Romans ! — Rouse, ye slaves ! 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 ! Yet, we are Romans ! Why, in that 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 ! VOLUME AND VARIETY. 57 HIGH PITCH — SHOUTING, Hark ! The bell ! the bell !— The knell of tyranny ! the mighty voice That, to the city and the plain, to earth And listening heaven, proclaims the glorious tale Of Rome re-born, and freedom ! VOLUME AND VARIETY Of Voice, in the different degrees of pitch in transition, may be secured by practicing the Diatonic Scale, in which the order of succession is by skips of tones and semi-tones. The Chromatic Scales is used in elocution, for expressions of plaintiveness. The skips are semi-tones only. Diatonic Scale. Chromatic Scale. -Do- -Si- -La- -Sol-'i -Fa- -Mi- -Re- -Do- A semi-tone. A tone. A tone. - A tone. - ■ A semi tone. A tone. A tone. scale the all thro^ up rise Now we fall do\\'n thro' all the scale up Now Now fall down Do Sol Do -C- -B- -A .G| -G-' "1 -F-! D-|g -C-|i3 -B-;i2 "" II -A- lo That the student avoid the habit of "sing-song " the scale may be spoken, instead of sung; as in the sentence — Roll on, thou deep acd dark blue ocean ! 58 DRILL BOOK. FORCE AND STRESS OF VOICE. Force is loudness and strength of tone. The degrees may- be expressed by the terms loud and soft^ st?'ong and weaky forcible di.x\d feeble. For practice of Force, select a sentence, and utter it, without reference to the sense, in a loud tone, then soft, then strong, then weak, etc. Example — Hail ! holy light ! Very particular attention should be given to the subject of Force, since that expression, which is so very important in elocution, is almost altogether dependent on some one or other modification of this attribute of the voice. It may truly be considered the light and shade of a proper intonation. Loud and soft are frequently united with high and lozu ; but they are not necessa7'ily connected, though they very frequently are. Yet a sound may be loud and low, as well as loud and high ; and it may be soft and high, as well as soft and low. The degrees of Force may be represented in the following notation. The upper line gives the notes of song — the lower, the notes of speech ; DEGREES OF FORCE OR STRESS. 123456789 /// // / mp m mf f ff fff All the different modifuations of Force should be applied on the above table, and this should be a very frequent exercise, tintil the different DEGREES of force can be given on every modification of stress. Force is loudness and strength of tone, applied in a general manner; and Stress is the application of Force, at the beginnijig, middle, or ending of the tone, or at the beginning and ending. As used by Dr. Rush, St7'ess is the manner of rendering Force perceptible or impressive in single sounds. The classification of the forms of Stress is as follows : 1st. Radical Stress, or that in which the force of utterance is usually more or less " explosive," and falls on the initial, or first part of a sound. 2nd. Median Stress^ that in which the force is expulsive or effusive, and swells out, whether slowly or rapidly, at the middle of a sound. 3rd. Vanishing Stress, or that which withholds the expulsive or explosive force, till the " vanish," or last moment of the sound. FORCE AND STRESS OF VOICE. 4th. Compound Stress, or that in wliich the voice, with more or less of ex- plosive force, touches forcefully and distinctly on both the initial and the final points of a sound, but passes slightly and almost imperceptibly over the middle part. These forms of Stress may be represented to the eye by the following diagram : Radical Stress. Median Stress. Vanishing Stress. Cojnpoicnd Stress. F*- EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. RADICAL STRESS. OUT with you ! — and he went out. Note.— Apply the greatest force to the word '' out," at the beginning of the above sen- tence, and you have the effect of Radical Stress. Whence and what art thou, execrable shape } And darest, though grim and terrible, advance Thy wwCTeated front athwart my way To yonder gates ? And reckon it thou thyself with spirits of Heaven, Hell-doomed, and breathest defiance here, and scorn Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more. Thy king and Lord? Back to thy/?^«ishment, False fugiiwe ! and, to thy speed add 7uings, Lest with a whip of scorpions I Y>'^xsiie Thy lingering ; or, with one stroke of this dart, Strange hotxox seize thee, ^nd pangs unfelt before! The universal cry is — Let us march against Philip, let us fight for our /z'^erties, let us ^^;^quer or die ! MIXTURE OF RADICAL, VANISHING, AND COMPOUND STRESS. The game's a foot ! FoRovf your spirit, and upon this charge. Cry Godiox Harxj, Engizxid, and Saint George! Note. — Vanishing on "foot ;" Radical on " Follow ; and all are applied on the last line. Compound on " this charge 6o DRILL BOOK. VANISHING STRESS. /, an itching/a/;«? You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Must /budge? Must /observe you? Must / stand and crotich Under your iesiy humor 'i O ye gods ! ye gods ! must I endure all this ? Must / give way and room to your rash choler ? Shall /be frighted when a madman stares? Thou slave ! thou wretch ! thou coward I Thou little valiant, great in villainy ! Thou ever strong upon the strongest side ' Thou Fortune's champion, thou dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety ! 3. We've sworn, by our country's assaulters, By the virgins they've dragged from our altars, By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins. That living, we will be victorious, Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious. MEDIAN STRESS. Smoothness and dignity are the characteristics of this kind of stress. It gives emphasis without sharpness or violence. EXAMPLES. High on a lh?-07ie of royal f mm, which /a?' 0\x\.-shines the wealth of 6>r-mus and of Ind. 2, Roll on, thou dark and deep blue ocean, roll. 3- We praise thee, O God. we acknowledge thee to be the Lord. Father ! Thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns ; Thou Didst weave this verdant roof; Thou didst look down FORCE AND STRESS OF VOICE. /: Upon the naked earth ; and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark, — Fit shrine for humble worshiper to hold Communion with his Maker ! How are the mighty fallen ! Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleas- ant in their lives ; and in their death they were not divided ; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights ; who put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel ! How are the mighty fallen in the midst of battle ! O Jonathan ! thou wast slain in thy high places ! How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons ot war perished ! 6. Oh ! sing unto the Lord a new song ; for he hath done marvelous things : his right hand and his holy arm hath gotten him the victory. Make a joy- ful noise unto the Lord, all the earth : make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise. Sing unto the Lord with the harp ; with the harp, and the voice of a psalm. COMPOUND STRESS. This is the natural mode of ** expression" m the utterance of surprise, and sometimes, though less frequently, of other emotions, as contempt and mockery, sarcasm and railcry. In the instinctive uses of the voice, this function seems specially designed to give point and pungency to the " radical" and " vanish," or opening and closing portions of sounds which occupy a large space of time, and traverse a wide interval of the " scale." The " explosive" force at the commence- ment of such sounds, and the partial repetition of " explosive" utterance at their termination, seems to mark distinctly to the ear the space which they occupy, and thus intimate their significant value in feeling. Extreme Surprise. Gone to be married ! Gone to swear a peace ! False blood to false blood joined ! Gone to be friends ! Shall Lewis have Blanche, and Blanche these provinces ? It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard, — Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again : It can not be ; — thou dost but say 't is so. 62 DRILL BOOK. 2. Surprise, Perplexity, and Contempt. Servant. Where dwellest thou? Coriolanus. Under the canopy. Serv. Under the canopy ! Cor. Ay ! Serv. Where's that? Cor. r the city of kites and crows. Serv. I' the city of kites and crows! — What an ass it is! — Then thou dwellest with daws, too? Cor. No ; I serve not thy master. Smile on my lords : I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, — bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up. To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you : — here I fling //a/red and full deyfance in your face. I know thee not, nor ever saw till now Sight more de/ifj/able than him and thee. 4- Whence these chains ? Whence the vile death, which I may meet this moment ? Whence this dishonor, but from thee, thou false one ? There is no great difference between Thorough and Coinpound Stress, so we do not give it prominence. When the Compound Stress is applied on short quality, it resembles very much the Radical, if indeed it does not con- stitute it. When an effort is made to apply it on short quantity it becomes unavoid- ably Explosive Stress. It does seem that the Median, Vanishing, and Com- pound possess similar expressive powers ; but the Vanishing has it a degree or two stronger than the Median, and the Compound a degree or two stronger than the Vanishing, and the Thorough a degree or two stronger than the Compound, rising regularly in intensity in the order in which they are here named. The following may serve to illustrate this mode of stress : This knows my punisher ; therefore as far From granting he, as I from /^6'^ging peace. Your Consul's merciful. For this no thanks. He da7'es not touch a hair of Cataline. 63 TIAIE, OR RATE OF MOVE.MENT, 3. Bidding me depend Upon thy stars, tliy fortune, and thy strength ? And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear'st a lion's hide. Doft' it, for shame, And hang a calfs skin on those ^rrreant limbs. Trejnor Stress is referred to by some authors, but as it is applicable only where Tremor quality of voice is used, we do not see the necessity of mak- ing it a special subject of practice, except under Tremor quality. For review, repeat the element long " o" and long " e" several times, with increasing force with each stress. TIME, OR RATE OF MOVEMENT. In Elocution, Time is the measure or duration of sound heard in speech. It is long or short, slow or quick, rapid or moderate. By long quantity we mean a slow measured fullness of the voice, to express smoothness, and dig- nity of feeling. Time and Stress, properly combined and marked, possess two essential elementary conditions of aggreeable discourse, upon which other excellences may be engrafted. If either be feebly marked, other beauties will not re- deem it. A well-marked stress, and a graceful extension of time, are essen- tial to agreeable speech. They give brilliancy and smoothness. All subjects of a serious, deliberate, and dignified character, require a great extension of syllabic quantity. Long quantity is used for Grandeur and Soleinnity of description, Reverential Awe, Earnest Prayer, Ve7ieration, Solemfi Denunciation, Threatening and Deep Pathos. Long quantity is generally executed by the Median Stress. (Give long qicantity on the Italic words) Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquished. yoin voices all ye living sozils. Ye birds That singing, up to heaven's gate ascend, Bear on your wings, and i7i your notes His praise. Before the sun, before the heavns Thou wert. 64 DRILL BOOK. We have crr'd and strayed from thy -ways, like lost sheep. We have done those things ^vhich we ought not to have done, and we nave left z^w- done those things which we ought to have done, and there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord! have mercy upon us miserable of/e-wders. Spare thou those, O God, who confess their faults, ^^store thou those who are penitent, acr^^r^ing to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ y^'sus our Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake, that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and j-^ber life, to the Glory of Thy holy Then the earth shook and trembled ; the foundations of heaven moved and shook, because he was wroth. There went up a smoke out of his nos- trils ; and fire out of his mouth devoured : coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens, also, and came down ; and darkness was under his feet ; and he rode upon a cherub, and did fly ; and he was seen upon the wings of the wind ; and he made darkness pavilions round about him, dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies. The Lord thundered from heaven, and the Most High uttered his voice ; and he sent out arrows and scattered them ; lightning, and discomfited them. And the channels of the sea ap- peared ; the foundations of the world were discovered at the rebuking of the Lord, at the blast of the breath of his nostrils. We urge the student to spend much time on exercises like the above, as more fail in this element of expression than in any other. SLOW TIME — LONG PAUSES AND QUANTITY — BREATHING FULL AND TRANQUIL. O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light ? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty : the stars hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone : who can be a companion of thy course ? The oaks of the mountains fall ; the miountains themselves decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and grows again ; the moon herself is lost in the heavens ; but thou art forever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunders roll and lightnings fly, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest in vain ; for he be- holds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, — for a season : thy years will have an end. Thou wilt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning. 7. MODERATE TIME. The farmer's calling is full of moral grandeur. He supports the world, is the partner of Nature, and peculiarly a " co-worker with God." The sun, the atmosphere, the dews, the rains, day and night, the seasons — all the natural agents — are his ministers in the spacious temple of the firmament. TIME, OR RATE OF MOVEMENT. /- Health is the attendant of his toils. The philosophy of Natm-e exercises and exalts the intellect of the intelligent farmer. His moral powers are en- nobled by the manifestations of supreme love and wisdom in every thing around him — in the genial air, the opening bud, the delicate flower, the growing and ripening fruit, the stately trees — in vegetable life and beauty, springing out of death and decay , and in the wonderful succession and har- mony of the seasons. QUICK TIME — BRISK MOVEMENT, SHORT QUANTITY. I come ! I come ! — ye have called me long ; I come o'er the mountains with light and song ! Ye may trace my step 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. From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain : They are sweeping on to the silvery main, — They ai-e flashing down from the mountain brows, — They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, — They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves ; And the earth resounds with the joy of waves ! QUICK TIME — INCREASE — HIGH PITCH — PURE. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, The dust like the 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 ; Evei-y nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away ' Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed ; And the landscape sped away behind. Like an ocean, flying before the wind ; And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire. Swept on, with his wild eyes 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 ! Read this example in slow time, then quick, then "cery quick. How does the water come down at Lodore ? Receding and speeding. And shocking and rocking, 66 DRILL BOOK. And darting and parting, And dripping and skipping, And whitening and brightening, And quivering and shivering. And hitting and splitting, And rattling and battling. And running and stunning, And hurrying and skurrying. And glittering and frittering, And gathering and feathering. And clattering and battering and shattering, And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping. Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing , And so never ending but always descending. Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending. PAUSES Are of two kinds : Gratnmatical and Rhetorical. The former pertain to the study of Grammar. They are : The comma (,) semicolon (;) colon (:) and period (.) ; as well as the notes of interrogation (?) and exclamation (') ; as also the dash ( — ) parentheses (()) and quotation marks (" ") are pauses which divide composition or discourse into sentences, and these again into smaller sections, some of which, at times, consist even of a single word. The very great importance of these points renders it imperative on us to study them carefully, and consider them with close attention ; for a disregard of them in reading, and a misapplication of them in punctuating, will, even in a comma, very frequently destroy the sense completely, or change it into something very different from what it should be. In primary reading, they should be explained ; but the child should not be required to count 07ie at a comma, two at a semicolon, etc., but should be told that the sense will govern the length of the pauses. If the sense requires rapid utterance, the pauses will be very short ; if slow utterances, the pauses will be long. Pauses in speech are to sentences what zwspiration is to respiration : the time for taking breath. Words in speech are to sentences what expiration is to rej-piration : the expulsion of breath. Hence, sentences must be cut up into sections, by pauses or rests, to allow time for inspiration, or taking breath. Words can be pronounced only during expiration, and pauses made during inspiration. Therefore, Pattses in speech and reading are used for inspiration, and words for expiration. The proper management of inspiration and expiration (or of breathing), in the process of intonation, is of the very utmost importance to a reader or public speaker. PAUSES. /- All that passes in the mind may be redticed to tzuo classes, which may be called Ideas and Emotions. By Ideas, we mean all thoughts that rise and pass in succession through the mind ; by Emotions, all the effects produced on the mind by those ideas, from the more violent agitation of the passions^ to the cahner feelings produced by the operation of the intellect and fancy. In short thoughts are the objects of the one, internal feelings of the other. That which serves to express the former, we call language of ideas ; that Avhich serves to express the latter, the language of emotions. Words are the signs of our ideas , tones and emphasis are the signs of our emotions. Without these two sorts of language, it would be impossible to communicate to the ear all that passes in the mind. We have, therefore, another kind of Pauses, called Rhetorical, or Emotional Fatises. The following general rule should be observed : A Rhetorical Pause should be placed immediately before or after some word of peculiar importance, or on which we wish to fix the hearer's atten- tion ; while at the same time, also, it gives a little more time to fix the thought more intently upon the subject. The pause before awakens curiosity and ex- cites expectation ; and after, it rolls back the mind to what was last said. It should not be repeated too frequently ; for. as it excites strong emotions, and, of course, raises expectation, if the importance of the matter be not fully an- swerable to such expectation, it occasions disappointment and disgust. EXAMPLES OF RHETORICAL PAUSES. Creation sleeps : 'tis as the general pulse of life - stood still ; And nature made a pause, — an awful pause, — Prophetic of her end. The stars- shall fade away,- the sun -himself - Grow dim - with age,-and Nature - sink -in years ; But thou - shalt flourish - in immortal youth,- Unhurt - amidst the war of elements,- The wreck of matter,- and the crush of worlds. A lowly knee to earth he bent, — his father's hand he took ; What was there in its touch, that all his fiery spirit shook ?- - That hand was cold !- -a frozen thing 1- -it dropped from his like lead !-- He looked up to the face above the face was of the dead ! — A plume waved o'er the noble brow ; - that brow was fixed and white ; He met, at last, his father's eves,- -but in them M^as no sight !- - Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed but who could paint that gaze ? - They hushed their very hearts,- that say,' its horror and amaze ! 68 DRILL BOOK. Who's here so base that would be a bondman ? - If any, speak ; - for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman?- If any, speak ;- for him have I offended. AVho's here so vile, that will not love his country ? - If any, speak ; - for him have I offended. 1 pause for a reply. O thou Eternal One ! - whose presence bright All space doth occupy,- all motion guide! Unchanged- through time's all-devastating flight ! Thou only God ! - There is no God beside ! Being above all beings !- Mighty One, Whom none can comprehend,- and none explore ! Who fill'st existence - with thyself alone : Embracing all - supporting - ruling o'er ! Being -whom we call God — and know no more ! Discourse on written composition is generally broken up into different por- tions, consisting of one or a greater number of periods, and generally marked by a break in the composition, with an indentation of the left marginal line of the page, and called Paragraphic portions, or Paragraphs. The pause that indicates the transition from one of these portions to another, may, with propriety, be called the Paragraphic Pause. EXAMPLE. Have we no great names to go flaming down the ages ? When will Henry's clarion voice be hushed, or Warren cease to tell men how to die for liberty? When will Adams, and Franklin, and Jefferson, fade from history ? Is it con- stitutional wisdom, excellence of laws, or incentives to individual exertion? No other land can compare with ours in these respects. Is it grandeur of scenery? God has made but one Niagara, one Mississippi, one Hudson. Is it territorial extent ? Our domain stretches from ocean to ocean, and from lake to gulf. By all these incentives, let our school-boys be fired with an enthusiastic love for the dear land of their birth, the precious heritage of their fathers ; let them leave the school-room for the arena of active life, feeling that, next to God and their parents, their country claims and shall receive their best affections and most uncompromising devotion ; let them realize that their conduct will bring honor or dishonor upon their countiy, as surely as upon their parents and friends ; let them learn to identify themselves, as citizens, with the interests of the commonwealth— blushing at whatever disgraces her, exulting in all that contributes to her glory and renown ; let them feel that this great country is fheir country — that they have a personal proprietorship in the lustre of her history, the honor of her name, the magnificence of her commerce, the valor of her fleets and armies, the inviolability of her constitu- tion and laws, and the magnitude and beneficence of her civil, social, and re- ligious institutions. All the Elements of Expression, in their single and combined action in the production of the variotcs kinds of Emphasis, Qualities of Voice, Waves, INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS. /: Meastires of Speech,- Transitions, Drifts and Pauses, that are intended to be observed in reading Prose, should be equally applied in the reading of Verse. There is this only difference in the intonation of poetry from that of prose : the use of the Cesural Pause, which can not be brought into re- quisition in prose, from its exclusive applicability to verse, as also the pre- dominance in verse of either the Common or Triple time measure of speech. These are the only two particulars which distinguish the intonation of poetry from prose. The balance of the difference consists, not in intonation, but arises out of the mechanical construction of the sentences ; the more or less regularity of the rhythm in verse, and the great irregularity of it in prose. We have found that when the student could manage the rhetorical pause well, he had little difficulty with the poetical pauses. The principle of their application is the same, only in poetry it is more regular and uniform. INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS. Emphasis always points out the sense of those luords which may he regard eel as expressive of certain thoughts, sentiments, or emotions. Whatever is the sense of any word, Emphasis will bring it out ; and will not only raise it into conspicuous importance, but contradistinguish it from the sense of other words, mark or direct the sense of an ellipsis, and point out grammatical relation. The occasions for the use of Emphasis are of constant occurrence ; and either of these circumstances will afford sufficient ground for its use. A perception of the grammatical construction of a sentence, of its special mean- ing, of the kind and amount of feeling it is intended to convey — in a word, a perception of the relation of thoughts in the author's mind — are the circumstances which must regulate the application of Emphasis. A nice and rigid analysis of the import of what is read or said is neces- sary, to employ Emphasis with correctness or pjvpriety. There are certain characteristics of vocal sounds which unerringly call the attention of an auditory. They are High Powers of Stress, in any of its specific modes; Extreme Length of Quantity; Wide Intervals of Pitch; and a Peculiar Quality of Voice, when set on words, may be considered as Elements of Emphasis. When the Ernphasi sis positive or absolute, 7ve use the Palling Inflection- When the Emphasis is relative, or dependent tipon something yet to follow, we ■use the Rising Inflection. „^ DRILL BOOK. Examples. 1. On! ON ! you noble English. 2. Must I bid twice? Hence, varlets, FLY ! 3. Slaves I TRAITORS ! have ye flown ? 4. To arms ! to arms ! ye braves ! 5. Be assured, be assured, that this declaration will stand. 6. Rise, RISE, ye wild tempests, and cover his flight ! 7. To arms ! to ARMS ! to ARMS ! they cry, 8. Hence I home, you idle creatures ! get you HOME ! 9. Hurrah for bright water ! HURRAH ! HURRAH ! 10. I met\{\\r\., faced him, SCORNED him. 11. Horse ! horse ! and CHASE ! 12. We may ^/>y die COLONISTS ! die SLAVES! 13. The charge is utterly, TOTALLY, MEANLY, false. 14. Ay, cluster there ! Cling to your master, judges, ROMANS, SLAVES. 15. I defy the \yQxvox^\& gentleman; I defy the government , I defy the WHOLE PHALANX. 16. Strike till the last armed foe expires ! strike for yoiir altars and your fires ! STRIKE for the green graves of your sires ! 17. He has allowed us to meet you here, and, in the name of the present generation, in the name of your COUNTRY, in the name of LIBERTY, to thank you. 18. They shouted Fra^ice I Spain ! ALBION ! VICTORY ! We see that Emphasis and Inflection are intimately connected. We es- pecially urge the use of the falling inflection whenever the sense demands it, as the character, amount of knowledge, and even success of an individual may be understood or made a failure by its neglect. We submit the following rule for the application of Inflection : In all Loose, Complex, and Compound Sentences whatever, tJiose membersy clauses, and phrases which have the sense incomplete, or are dependejit on so?7ie- thing following, shotild have the 'RlSll shiveritig in thy play f til spray. And howling to his gods, WHERE happy LIES His petty hope in some near port or bay. And then he beheld, enjoying a sweet and tranquil SLUMBER, the man, WHO, by the doom of himself and his fellows, was to DIE within the short SPACE of two hours. HIS FRIEND, who was apprised of the state he was in, and who naturally concluded he was ill, OFFERED him some wine. It is obvious that the audible fneans for displaying the sense of discourse is greatly contributive to the analysis necessary to present a clear picture of thought in delivery, and can not fail to reveal the latent beauties, as well as defects, of composition. The Ai't of Rhetoric can not but be greatly assisted by that of Elocution, since a careful consideration of the nice sensific relations of words in Wfitten language is constantly necessary in the art of RJietoi'ic. THE WAVE OF THE CIRCUMFLEX. The Circumflex is a union of the inflections, and is of two kinds : Rising and Falling, It is governed by the same principle as inflections ; that is, positive as- sertions of irony, raillery, etc., will have the Falling circumflex; and all neg- ative assertions of doubled meaning will have the Rising. Doubt, pity, contrast, grief, supposition, cojnparison, irony, implication, sneer- ing, raillery, scorn, reproach, and contonpt, are expressed by them. Be sure and get the right feeling and thought, and you will find no difficulty in expres- sing them properly, if you have mastered the voice. Both these circumflex inflections may be exemplified in the word " so" in a speech of the Clown, in Shakespeare's "■ As You Like It :" I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel ; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If ; as if you said so, then I said so. Oh, ho ! did you say s'o ? So they shook hands, and were sworn friends. The Queen of Denmark, in reproving her son, Hamlet, on account of his conduct towards his step-father, whom she married shortly after the murder of the king, her husband, says to him, " Hamlet, you have your father much ^r DRILL BOOK. offended." To which he repHes, with a circumflex on yon, "Madam, you have my father much offended." He meant his o%un father ; she, his step- father. He would also intimate that she was accessory to his father's imirder; and his peculiar reply was like daggers in her soul. In the following reply of Death to Satan, there is a frequent occurrence of circumflexes, mingled with contempt: "And reckon'st thou thyself \y\\.\\ spirits of heaven, hell-doomed, and breath'st defiance here, and scorn, where /reign king? — and, to enrage thee more, th'y king and lord T The voice is cifcum- flexed on heaven, hell-doomed, king, and thy, nearly an octave. Zounds ! show me what thou'lt do : woul't fast ? woul't tear thyself ? I'll do it. Dost thou come here to whine? to outface 7?ie, "with leaping in her grave? Be buried qtdck \Ni\h. her, and so v/ill /"y and if thou prate of moun'^ fains, let them throw mil'lions. of acres on us, till our ground, singe- ing her pate against the burning zone, makes Ossa like a zuaj't. Nay, and thoul't mouth, / // rant as well as thou. For the purpose of securing flexibility of voice in this complex movement, and for the executions of Inflections and Transition, an exercise may be given on the direct and inverted waves, — single and double. If the direction of the first part of the wave is upward, it is called direct ; if downward, indirect. Practice on the " Speech of the Clown" until the utterance becomes natu- ral. Then this sentence, " Did you say hail' ? Yes, I said hail\" The inter- val will be third, fifth, or octave, according to earnestness. We can not leave the subject of the Inflections, Slides, and Waves of the voice without noticing a fev/ of the faults to be avoided. The principal faults in the intonation of the cadence may be enumerated as follows : First, its total omission : for repose of the cadence, at the termination of a conspicuous train of thoughts, is in the highest degree grateful to the ear, and should, therefore, never be omitted. Second, a descent of the voice below the current melody to that extent which renders the last constituent of the cadence inaudible. Care should be taken that, in lowering the voice to form the cadence, its force maybe kept sufficiently ttp, to render the close of the zo.n'i&xvQ.^ perfectly audible. If the general pitch of the voice be so regulated as not to fall too low in effecting the close, there will be no difficulty in making it sufficiently loud and forcible. Third, a I'epetition of the same form of cadence at every pazise greater than that indicated by a comma. This monotony of the cadence may be avoided by the use of the suspension, or be changed to some other form of the cadence. Fourth, a want of variety, in not using a sufficient number of the diffe^'ent forms. There is an ample source for variety in the forms of the cadence, suited to all kinds of sentiment, and all forms of puantity, in the terminating syllables of sentences. PERSONATION. ,^^ Careful study, combined with suitaule practice, can not fail to correct all these defects above enumerated. In the personation, in the following, an opportunity is given for the waves, direct and indirect : A Fool ! a Fool ! I met a Fool i' th' forest — A motley Fool. A miserable world ! As I do live by food, I met a Fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms. In good set terms, — and yet a motley Fool. " Good morrow. Fool," quoth I. " No, sir," quoth he, " Call me not Fool, till heav'n hath sent me fortune :" And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says, very wisely, " It is ten o'clock : Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; And after one hour more, 't will be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear The motley Fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative ; And I did laugh, sans intermission. An hour by his dial ! — O noble Fool ! A worthy Fool ' Motley's the only wear. PERSONATION. We should give especial attention to the change of voice in Personation. In public reading and declamation, it is of great importance ; but is generally overlooked, or but little practiced. The narrative or descriptive sentences leading to the Personation, will de- pend for Force, Pitch, and Tiine, upon the character of the ideas in the Per- sonation. For instance, if a death scene is being given, as in "Poor Little J im," the Pitch will be low, and diminish until the words uttered by the dying boy are reached. Then, with Pure Voice, slightly Tremor, Pitch mode- rate, and Time slow, with a pause between the narrative and the quoted words, the speaker will say : " Tell father, when he comes from work. I said good-night to him ; and mother — now-I'll-go-to-sleep." i The last words ver}' soft, and hesitating utterance. Before this example, is another in the same selection, not quite so marked > o DRILL BOOK. which we give, from the third verse. She gets her answer from the child ; softly fall the words from him — " Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim ! I have no pain, dear mother, now, — but oh, I am so dry ! Just moisten poor Jim's lips again — and, mother, don't you cry." With gentle, trembling haste, she held the liquid to his lips. That which is quoted is supposed to be uttered by the dying child, and can not be given effectively without the changes in voice, etc., referred to above. If the climax of the narrative is a battle scene, and the Personation repre- sents an officer giving the command to charge, as in " The Light Brigade," then the most marked change will be made in the voice, between the descrip- tive and the Personation. " Forward the light brigade ! take the guns !" demands Full Force, Quick Time, High Pitch, Compomtd Stress ; and the descriptive preceding it will commence with Moderate Pitch, Moderate Tijiie (increasing), and Medium Force, with Median Stress. We give a number of EXAMPLES for the practice of the transitions necessary in Personations, {per') " Stand to your guns, men !" Morris cried. Small need to pass the word ; {desc.) Our men at quarters ranged themselves Before the drum was heard. The Pitch should fall three notes, at least, on the words " Morris cried," and raised but slightly on the remainder of the stanza. {desc) And when Peter saw it, he answered unto the people: {per) "Ye men of Israel, why marvel ye at this ? or why look ye so earnestly on us, as though by our own power or holiness, we had made this man to walk?" etc. To read the Bible acceptably in pubhc, requires the application of every principle in elocution ; for no where is Expression so richly rewarded, as in the pronunciation of the sacred text. The descriptive and Personation should be so distinctly marked, that the attention will be at once attracted to the different styles, and the meaning understood. Shout, Tyranny, shout Through your dungeons and palaces, " Freedom is o'er !' EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. ^ Princes ! potentates ! "Warriors I the flower of heaven — once yours, now lost ! — If such astonishment as this can seize Eternal spirits — Awake ! arise ! or be forever fallen ! 5. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowel of them' demand the most derisive indignation. I call upon that right reverend and this most learned Bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to defend and support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn, upon the judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this polution. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS- OBJECT OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. Language is the foundation of a seiitiment or emotion. As it is impossible to print a tear, a groan, a sneer, a laugh, or a look, so it is impossible to express all the meaning of an author, unless in the spirit of the sentiment, and, from long practice, one is able to express that sentiment. The mere repetition of the words of Shakespeare, would give little idea of the full meaning and power of those words. In this view, man- ner is quite as important as matter; for without it, the choic- est ideas, as represented by words, are lifeless. The study of Expression is the most important part of Elocution, as it is the appropriate and harmonious application of all the principles that form the science of utterance. It is the Art of Elocution. In extemporaneous discourse, emotions may suggest language, and language may suggest emotion. The emotions excited by language, arise from the clear, strong, and suitable exhibition of the relation of the ideas expressed in language. These relations are always exhibited or expressed by the use of the Elements of Vocal Expression — Quality, Pitch, Force, Stress, Emphasis. Inflection, Pause, and Personation. Practice upon these combinations gives confidence in their use in reading and speaking, and educates the Taste and yndgment. The ear is disciplined to notice exaggerations and affectations, and to avoid them — as the skillful musician notices and avoids discords. 8o DRILL BOOK. Desiring to make this compilation a complete and thorough Drill Book and Guide, we enumerate the different elements of expression, neces- sary to the intonation of most of i\\Q feelings and emotions, with examples for practice. We would not be understood as claiming that there is an element of vo- cal expression peculiarly adapted to every different sentiment or emotion. The same vocal element is frequently used to express very different senti- ments and emotions. But by the management of these elements, in continu- ous and careful practice, all the varieties may be expressed, as the most com- plicate harmonies in music are produced by the notes of the scale, by the skill- ful musician. We begin with DIGNITY, GRAVITY, AND SOLEMNITY. These, and kindred expressions, as Adoration, Reverence, Venera- tion, and Awe, are expressed by Orotund Quality, Long Quantity, Slo-oj Time, and Median Stress.. Yet a few days, and thee, The all-beholding sun shall see no more, In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ; And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements. To be a brother to the insensible rock, And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings. The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, — All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills, Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun — the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between — The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks, That make the meadows green — and, poured round all. Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste — Are but the solemn decollations all. Of the great tomb of man. These, as they change, Almighty Father ! these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. o And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve. By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. In winter, awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled — Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing. Riding sublime, thou bidd'st the world adore. And humblest Nature, with thy northern blast. 3. These are thy glorious works. Parent of Good ! Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair I — thyself how wondrous, then ! Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens. To us invisible, or dimly seen Midst these, thy lowest works ! Yet these declare thy goodness beyond thought, And power divine ! CHEERFULNESS, LIVELINESS, GAIETY, EARNEST DESCRIPTION, And similar feelings, require the Natural or Pure Voice, Short Quantity Quick Time, Radical, and Vanishing Stress. Hear the sledges with the bells — silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle all the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight — Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding-bells — golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the balmy air of night, how they ring out their delight ! From the molten-golden notes, all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding cells. What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells, how it dwells On the Future ! How it tells of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells. 3. But, oh ! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 82 DRILL BOOK. When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to Fawn and Dryad known ! The oak-crowned sisters and their chaste-eyed queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear, ^ And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 4. O bright, beautiful, health-inspiring, heart-gladdening water ! Every where around us dwelleth thy meek presence — twin-angel sister of all that is good and precious here ; in the wild forest, on the grassy plain, slumber- ing in the bosom of the lonely mountain, sailing with viewless wings through the humid air, floating over us in curtains of more than regal splen- dor — home of the healing angel, when his wings bend to the woes of this fallen world — Oh, water, pure water, bright water for me, And wine for the trembling debauchee ! MIRTH, WIT, PLEASANTRY, JOY, RAPTURE, DELIGHT, SPRIGHTLINESS, AND GOOD HUMOR, Require for their expression. Short Quantity^ Quick Time, Rising Injlections, Radical, atid Median Stress, with occasional use of the Tremor Voice. But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair ! What was thy delighted measure? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scene at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale. She called on Echo still, through all her song ; And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft, responsive voice was heard at every close : And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair. Oh, then, I see. Queen Mab hath been with you ; She comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn by a team of little atomies Over men's noses, as they lie asleep ; Her wagon-spokes, made of long spinner's legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams ; Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, — Time out of mind, the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state, she gallops, night by night. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ; And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickhng a parson's nose as he lies asleep ; Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck. And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades. Of healths five fathoms deep ; and then anon, Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes. And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. (This selection may be made a LaugJiing Exercise,) I wrote some lines, once on a time. In wondrous merry mood ; And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die; — Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my sers'ant, and he came; — How kind it was of him, To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb ! " These to the printer I" I exclaimed ; And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest), •* There'll be the devil to pay !" He took the paper, and I watched. And saw him peep within ; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon a grin. He read the next ; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ea.r. He read the third ; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth, he broke into a roar ; The fifth, his waistband split ; The sixth, he burst five buttons off. And tumbled in a fit. 83 84 DRILL BOOK. Ten d^ys and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man ; And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. ASTONISHMENT AND SURPRISE, With Amazement, Exclamation, Admiration, or Wonder, require Long Quantity, Varied Force, Radical and Median Stress, Downward and Up- ward Inflection, thirds, fourths, fifths, or octaves, according to excitement ; with Equal, Direct, and Inverted Waves ; Orotund Quality, and Guttural at times. Whence and what art thou, execrable shape ! That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front athwart my way To yonder gates ? Through them, I mean to pass — That be assured — without leave asked of thee ! Retire, or taste thy folly ; and learn by proof, Hell-born! not to contend with spirits of heaven! Back to thy punishment. False fugitive .' and to thy speed add wings ; Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before. I should be surprised indeed, if, while you are doing us wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore of Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations of their deep anxiety to do us justice ; — even Strafford, the de- serter of the people's cause — the renegade Wentworth, who gave evidence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny which predominated in his charac- ter — even Strafford, while he trampled i:pon our rights, and trod upon the heart of the covmtry, protested his solicitude to do justice to Ireland ' What marvel is it, then, that gentlemen opposite should deal in such vehement pro- testations? Tell me — for you were there — I appeal to the gallant soldier before me, from whose opinions I differ, but \vho bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid breast ; — tell me, for you must needs remember, on that day when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the balance, while death fell in showers, when the artillery of France was leveled with the precision of the most deadly science, when her legions, incited by the voice and inspired by the example of their mighty leader, rushed again and again to the onset, — tell me if, for an instant, when to hesitate for an instant was to be lost, the " aliens" blenched? EXPRESSION OF THE P ASSIGNS AND EMOTIONS. o- 5» ALIENS: GoodGcd! Was Arthur, Duke of Wellington, in the House of Lords, and did he not start up and exclaim, " Hold ! I have seen the Aliens do their dufy /" POSITIVENESS, CERTAINTY, AND CONFIDENCE, With Conviction, Authority, Command, Defiance, Denunciation, Reprehension, Affirmation, Instruction, Precept, and Warm Argu- mentation, as well as Denying, Reproving, Refusing, and Forbidding, require for their effective intonation, two or more of the following elements : Marked Downward Inflection ; Radical, Median, or Vanishing Stress ; Oro- tund, and sometimes the harsh Gtittural Quality ; and Direct Equal Waves. Come one — come all ! This rock shall fly From its firm base, as soon as I ! These few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel. 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, — ' And 'twere not for thy hoary beard. Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And first I tell thee, haughty peer. He who does England's message here. Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate I And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, E'en in thy pitch of pride : Here in thy hold, thy vassals near — (Nay, never look upon your lord, 86 DRILL BOOK. And lay your hands upon your sword,) I tell thee, thou'rt defied ' And if thou said'st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here — Lo\>land 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 ? {^'^g^) And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no !" Banished from Rome ! What's banished, but set free From daily contact with the things I loathe ? " Tried and convicted traitor '" Who says this ? ' Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? Banished ! I thank you for't ! It breaks my chain I I held some slack allegiance till this hour — But now, my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords ! I scorn to count what feelings, whithered hopes. Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells slant up, To leave you in your lazy dignities ! But here I stand and scoff you ! here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face ' Your Consul's merciful — for this, all thanks : He dares not touch a hair of Cataline ! "Traitor!" I go — but I return. This — trial? Here I devote your senate ! I've had wrongs To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel ! This day's the birth of sorrow ! This hour's work Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my lords ! For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods. Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ! — Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till anarchy comes down on you like night, And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave ! 5. EARNEST APPEAL. O comrades ! warriors ! Thracians ! If we vt7ist fight, let us fight for our- selves ! If we inttst slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors ! If we must die, let us die under a free sky, by the bright waters, in NOBLE, HONORABLE BATTLE ! EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. 87 ANGER, RAGE, REVENGE, WRATH, MALICE, AND HATE, Are expressed by Short Qtiantity on emphatic words, Quick Time, Soundness, Orotund, Guttural, and Aspirate Qualities, with Downward Inflections, and Direct and Indirect Waves. I. ANGER. (The greatest force should be given to the words ^' Anger ^' " clash, ^' " swept^^ etc.) Next, Anger rushed ; his eyes on fire, in lightnings owned his secret stings ; with one rude clash he struck the lyre, and swept, with hurried hands, the strings. And longer had she sung — but, with a frown. Revenge impatient rose ; he threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, and, with a withering look, the war-denouncing trumpet took, and blew a blast so loud and dread, were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woes. Strike, till the last armed foe expires ! strike, for your altars and your fires ' strike, for the green graves of your sires — God and your native land ! 4- COURAGE. Up, comrades ! up ! — in Rokeby's halls, Ne'er be it said our courage falls ! 5. INFURIATE ANGER. Thou den of drunkai-ds with the blood of princes ! Gehenna of the waters ! Thou sea Sodom ! Thus I devote thee to the mfernal gods — thee and thy serpent seed ! \^To the executioner^ Slave, do thine office ! Strike, as I struck the foe ! Strike, as I would have struck those tyrants ! Strike, deep as my curse ! Strike — and but once ! 6. THE OATH. By the tombs of your sires and brothers, the hosts which the traitors have slain — by the tears of your sisters and mothers, in secret concealing their pain — the grief which the heroine smothers, consuming the heart and the brain — by the sigh of the penniless widow, by the sob of the orphans' despair, where they sit in their sorrowful shadow — kneel, kneel, every freeman, and swear ! Swear ! \Orotund and guttural?\ And hark, the deep voices replying from the graves where your fathers are lying : " Swear, oh, swear P' DRILL BOOK. Blaze with your serried columns ! I will not bend the knee ! The shackles ne'er again shall bind the arm which now is free ! I've mailed it with the thunder, when the tempest muttered low ; and where it falls, ye well may dread the lightning of its blow ! I loathe ye in my bosom, I scorn ye with my eye ; and I'll taunt ye with my latest breath, and fight ye till I die ! I ne'er will ask ye quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave ; but I'll swim the sea of slaughter, till I sink be- neath the wave ! JEALOUSY, ENVY, INDIGNATION, AVERSION, SCORN, AND ABHORRENCE, Require less energy in their intonation than the preceding, more deliber- ation. The elements of the preceding should be moderated by Longer Quantity, Median Stress, and the Wave. JEALOUSY. Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fixed ; sad proof of thy distressful state ! Of diftering themes the veering song was mixed ; and now it courted Love ; now, raving, called on Hate. I've scared ye in the city, I've scalped ye on the plain ; go, count your chosen, where they fell beneath my leaden rain ! I scorn your proffered treaty ! the pale-face I defy ! revenge is stamped upon my spear, and blood my battle-cry ! 3- ANGER AND SCORN. You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate as reek o' the rotten fens ! — whose loves I prize as the dead carcasses of unburied men, that do corrupt my air ! — / banish you ! 4. ENVY, Aside the devil turned for envy ; yet, with jealous leer malign, eyed them askance, and to himself thus plain'd : Sight hateful ! sight tormenting ! thus these two, imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall en- joy their fill of bliss on bliss ; while I to hell am thrust, where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire — among our other torments not the least — still unfulfilled, with pain of longing, pines. 5- Sir, who was he that disarmed the Thunderer ; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove ; calmed the troubled ocean ; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilized world ; whom the great and mighty of the earth de- light?ed to honor ; who participated in the achievement of your independence. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. O^ prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of recorded time ? Who, sir, I ask, was he? A Northern laborer — a Yankee tallow-chandler's son — a printer's runaway boy ! 6. JEALOUSY. If I do prove her haggard, though that her jesses were my dear heart- strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, to prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black, and have not those soft parts of conversation that chamberers have; or, for I am declined into the vale of years ; — yet, that's not much : — she's gone. I am abused ; and my relief must be to loathe her. Oh, curse of marriage ! that we can call these delicate creatures ours, and not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon, than keep a corner in the thing I love for others' uses ! PLAINTIVENESS AND DEEP PATHOS Are expressed with prevailing softness of voice, by the semitone. Long Quantity, Slozv Ti?ne, the Semitonic Waves, and Aledian Stress. Among the sentiments which require the Plaintive Expression are the following ; Complaint, Penitence, Contrition, Petition, Submission, Supplication, Awe, Reverence, Affection, Love, Attention, Pity, Compassion, Commiseration, Grief, Mercy, Sorrow, Lamentation, Bodily Pain, and Mental Suffering. 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 elo- quence of woe : — " Alas ' my noble boy ! thac thou should'st die ! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! that death should settle in thy glorious eye, and leave his stillness in thy 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 T from those dumb and cold lips, Absalom ' " But death is on 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 '" "Ho! sailor of the sea! How's my boy, my boy?" "^N^'hat's your boy's name, good wife ? And in what good ship sailed he ?" " My boy John — -he that went to sea ! What care I for the ship, sailor? My boy's my boy to me ! " You come back from sea, and not know my John ? I might as well have asked some landsman, yonder, down in the town ! There's not an ass in all the parish, but he knows my John ! "How's my boy, my boy? And unless you let me know, I'll swear you DRILI, BOOK. are no sailor, — blue jacket or no ! Brass button or no, sailor, — anchor or crown or no ! Sure, his ship was the Jolly BjHou." — " Speak low, woman ? speak low !" " And why should I speak low, sailor, about my own boy John ? If I was loud as I am proud, I'd sing him over the town ! Why should I speak low, sailor?" — " That good ship went down." 3. Lovely art thou, O Peace ! and lovely are thy children ; and lovely are the prints of thy footsteps in the green valleys ! Blue wreaths of smoke ascend through the trees, and betray the half- hidden cottage ; the eye contemplates well-thatched ricks, and barns burst- ing with plenty : the peasant laughs at the approach of winter. White houses peep through the trees ; cattle stand cooling in the pool ; the casement of the farm-house is covered with jessamine and honey-suckle ; the stately green-house exhales the perfume of summer climates ! Children chmb the green mound of the rampart ; and ivy holds together the half-demolished buttress. 4. " And now depart ! and when thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, lift up thy prayer beseechingly to him, who, from the tribes of men, selected thee to feel his chastening rod ! Depart, O leper ! and forget not God !" And he went forth — alone ! Not one of all the many whom he loved — nor she whose name was woven in the fibres of the heart breaking within him now — to come and speak comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, — sick and heart-broken, and alone — to die ! For God had cursed the leper ! 5. The flames rolled on. He would not go, without his father's word. That father, faint in death below, his voice no longer heard. He called aloud : " Say, father, say if yet my task is done !" He knew not that the chieftain lay, unconscious of his son. " Speak, father!" once again he cried, " if I may yet be gone !" And but the booming shots replied, and fast the flames rolled on. HUMOR, IMPATIENCE, AND DISCONTENT, With Petulance, Peevishness, Repining, Vexation, Chagrin, and Dissatisfaction, are expressed by the Radical, Vanishing, Compound, or Guttural Stress, the Semitonic Aspiration, and, at times, the Diatonic Mel- ody. On syllables of Long Quantity, the Dotcble and Unequal Wave will heighten the effect of the expression. Impatience will sometimes raise the voice to Loudness, and the Falsette may be heard in the whine of Peevishness. SECRECY Requires for its expression that Pure Aspiration called the Whisper. APPREHENSION AND MYSTERY, With Curiosity, Suspicion, and Eagerness, require Aspiration a"d a Sup- pressed Voice. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. „ j SUPPRESSED FEAR Calls for an Undertone, and combines with it the Tremor or Aspiration, DANGER, FEAR, AND TERROR, Call for great Force of Voice, Loud Concrete, with the Downward Concretes, and marked with Aspiration. The voice of Terror sometimes breaks forth in a Scream of the Falsette or the Orotund. HORROR Requires Orotund, great Loudness, Guttural Grating, and Aspiration, which are always the symbols of the strongest emotions of the mind. These qualities of voice will be blended on some words, and applied singly on others. I. Now o'er the one-half world Nature seems dead , and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep ; novv witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's off'rings ; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, — thus, with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. — Thou sure and firm-set earth ! Hear not my steps, which way they walk ; for fear The veiy stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time Which now suits with it. 2. AWE, EXTENDING TO FEAR. It thunders ! Sons of dust, in reverence bow ! Ancient of days ! thou speakest from above ! Thy right hand wields the bolt of terror now — That hand which scatters peace and joy and love. Almighty ! trembling, like a timid child, I hear thy awful voice ! — alarmed, afraid, I see the flashes of thy lightning wild. And in the very grave would hide my head ! 3- TERROR. The fox fled in terror : the eagle awoke. As, slumbering, he dozed in the shelve of the rock ; Astonished, to hide in the moonbeam he flew. And screwed the night-heaven, till lost in the blue. 4. What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, 92 DRILL BOOK. Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, — Making night hideous, and we fools of nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Hear the loud alarum bells — brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night, how they scream out their affright Too much horrified to speak, they can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune. In the clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire. In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire — Leaping higher, higher, higher, with a desperate desire. And a resolute endeavor, now, now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon ' Oh, the bells, bells, bells ! what a tale their terror tells Of despair ! How they clang, and clash, and roar ! what a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 6. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee: — I have thee not ! — and yet I see thee still ! Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind — a false creation, Proceeding from the heat -oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw ! Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going ! And such an instrument I was to use ! Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses, Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still ' And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood ! THE INTERROGATION May modify some of the elements of expression, in the preceding exercises — chiefly by intensifying the Waves and Itifiections . AUTHORITATIVE AND ANGRY INQUIRY Em.ploys a good deal of Force of Voice, Radical, Vanishing, and Thorough Efiforce?netit, and the Wider Intervals, with the Loud Orotund. SNEERING, SCORNFUL INTERROGATION, Or Surprise or Exclamation, mixed with Interrogation, calls for Van- ishijig, Compound, or Thorotigh Stress, mixed with Aspiration or Guttural Qxiality of Voice, and the Orotund. EXPRESSION OF THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS. „ ^. PLAINTIVE INTERROGATION Is the opposite of Plaintive Exclamation, and therefore requires the Chro- matic Melody and Inverted Wave ; the first constituent being a Semitone^ and the last a Rising Third, Fourth.Fifth, or Octave. HUMILITY, MODESTY, AND SHAME, With Caution, Irresolution, Fatigue, Apathy, Tranquility, and Weakness, generally demand the Simple Diatonic Melody, Feebleness of Voice, and Slow Time. We have multiplied Examples from a wide range of authors, selected especially for their variety and appropriateness in exhibiting the sentiment and emotion required; and we now say to the student — practice, prac- tice ! Do not be easily discouraged. If it is possible for you to form a class, and secure the services of an accomplished master, who can save time and study for you by giving an appropriate model, do so ; but do not rely upon this, even. Help yourself! We smile at the enumeration of the formal apparatus of Athenian rhetorical education, which, in addition to its long and classified array of grammarians and rhetoricans, furnished, it is said, yfz'.? gradations of schools for different species of muscular exercise, and tlwee distinct .classes of instructors for the voice — one to superintend practice in Pitch, another to conduct the exercises in Force, and a third to regulate vocal Melody and Inflections. Modern taste forbids this fastidious multiplicity and minuteness of appliances ; but it makes, as yet, no adequate provision for the acquiring of that moral and intellectual power, and that ex- pressive force, which result from the blending of a high-toned physical and mental training. The customary routine of academic declamation consists in permitting or compelling a student to '■ speak," and pointing out his faults, after they have been committed. But it offers no genial inducement to the exercise and provides no preventive training by which faults might be avoided. This state of things is being changed ; and the leading institutions of the counti-y are introducing physical and vocal exercises — thereby intend- ing to keep the connection between thought and its appropriate expression. To aid in this important work, this Book is sent forth. SELECTIONS. EVERETT'S VINDICATION OF AMERICA,~i863. In the factories of Europe there is machinery of American in- vention or improvement; in their observatories, telescopes of American construction, and apparatus of American invention for recording the celestial phenomena, America contests with Europe the introduction into actual use of the electric telegraph, and her mode of operating it is adopted throughout the French empire. American authors in almost every department are found on the shelves of European libraries. It is true no American Homer, Virgil, Dante, Copernicus, Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, Newton, has risen on the world. These mighty geniuses seem to be exceptions in the history of the human mind. Favorable circumstances do not produce them, nor does the absence of favorable circumstances prevent their appearance. Homer rose in the dawn of Greek culture, Virgil flourished in the court of Augustus, Dante ushered in the birth of the new European civilization, Copernicus was reared in a Polish cloister, Shakespeare was trained in the green room of the theatre, Mil- ton was formed while the elements of English thought and life were fermenting towards a great political and moral revolution, Newton under the profligacy of the restoration. Ages may elapse before any country will produce a man like these, as two centuries have passed since the last mentioned of them were born. But if it is really a matter of reproach to the United States, that in the comparatively short period of their existence as a people, they have not added another name to the illustrious list (which is equally true of all the other nations of the earth,) 94 SELECTIONS. ^ they may proudly boast of one example of life and character, one career of disinterested service, one model of public virtue, the type of human excellence, of which all the countries and all the ages may be searched in vain for the parallel. I need not — on this day I need not — speak the peerless name. It is stamped on your hearts, it glistens in your eyes, it is written on every page of your history, on the battle-fields of the Revolu- tion, on the monuments of your fathers, on the portals of your Capitols. It is heard in every breeze that whispers over the fields of independent America. And he was all our own. He grew upon the soil of America ; he was nurtured at her bosom. She loved and trusted him in his youth; she honored and re- vered him in his age ; and though she did not wait for death to canonize his name, his precious memory, with each succeeding year, has sunk more deeply into the hearts of his countrymen. THE TEMPERANCE DRINK. Water ! oh, bright, beautiful water for me. Water ! heaven- gifted, earth-blessing, flower-loving water ! It was the drink of Adam in the purity of his Eden home — it mirrored back the beauty of Eve in her unblushing toilet — it awakens to life again the crushed and fading flower — it cools, oh, how gratefully ! the parched tongue of the feverish invalid — it falls down to us in pleasant showers from its home in the glittering stars — it de- scends to us in feathery storms of snow — it smiles in shining dew-drops at the glad birth of morning — it clusters in great tear- drops at night over the graves of those we love — its name is wreathed in strange, bright colors by the sunset cloud — its name is breathed by the dying soldier, far away on the torrid field of battle — it paints old forts and turrets, from a gorgeous easel, on your winter window — it clings upon the branches of trees in frost-work of delicate beauty — it dwells in the icicle — it lives in the mountain glacier — it forms the vapory ground- work upon which God paints the rainbow — it gushes in pearly streams from /r ELOCUTION. the gentle hillside — it makes glad the sunny vales — it murmurs cheerful songs in the ear of the humble cottager — it answers back the smiles of happy children — it kisses the pure cheek of the water lily — it wanders like a vein of molten silver away, away to the distant sea — oh, bright, beautiful, health-inspiring, heart-gladdening water ! Everywhere around us dwelleth thy meek presence — twin angel sister of all that is good and precious here — in the wild forest — on the grassy plain — slumbering in the bosom of the lonely mountain — sailing with viewless wings through the humid air — floating over us in curtains of more than regal splendor — home of the healing angel when his wines bend to the woes of this fallen world. " Oh, water, pure water, bright water for me, And wine for the trembling debauchee !" TWENTY YEARS AGO. I've wandered to the village, \ Tom ; I've sat beneath the tree. Upon the school house play-growtd, which sheltered you and me ; But none were there to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know, That played with us upon the green, some twenty years ago. The grass was just as green, Tom, | bare-footed 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 just twenty years ago. The school house has altered some — the benches are replaced By new ones, very like the same our pen-knives had defaced ; But the same old bricks are in the wall — the bell swings to and fro, Its music just the same, dear Tom, 't was twenty years ago. The boys were playing some old game, beneath that same old tree ; I do forget the name just now — you've played the same with me — On that same spot, 't was played with knives, by throwing so and so ; The leader had a task to do — there twenty 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 ; SELECTIONS. , 97 But the grape-vine swing is ruined now- where once we played the beau, And swung our sweet-hearts | ' pretty girls" | just twenty years ago. The spring that bubbled 'neath the hilL close by the spreading beech Is very loiv — 'twas once so high, that we could almost reach ; And kneeling down to get a drink, dear Tom, | / startled so, To see how much I've changed j since twenty years ago. Near by the spring, upon an elm, you know I cut your name. Your sweet-heart's just beneath it, Tom, and you did mane the same ; Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark, 't was dying sure but slow, Just as that one, whose name you cut, | died twenty years ago. My lids have long been dry, Tom, | but tears came in my eyes ; I thought of her I loved so well, those early broken ties ; I visited the old church-yard, and took some flowers to strew Upon the graves of those we loved | some twejity years ago. Some are in the church-yard laid — some sleep beneath the sea ; But few are left of our old class, excepting you and me ; And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are called to go, J hope they'll lay us where ^Nt played just twenty years ago. ENGLAND AGAINST WAR. K. W. BEECHER, — 1 863. — LONDON. I hear a loud protest against war. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Chairman, — there is a small band in our country and in yours — I wish their number were quadrupled — who have borne a solemn and painful testimony against all wars, under all circum- stances; and although I differ with them on the subject of de- fensive warfare, yet when men that rebuked their own land, and all lands, now rebuke us, though I can not accept their judgment, I bow with profound respect to their consistency. But excepting them I regard this British horror of the Ameri- can war as som.ething wonderful. Why, it is a phenomenon in itself! On what shore has not the prow of your ships dashed .'' What land is there with a name and a people where your ban- ner has not led your soldiers } And when the great resurrec- O ELOCUTION. tion reveille shall sound, it will muster British soldiers from every clime and people under the whole heaven. Ah ! but it is said this is a war against your Own blood. How long is it since you poured soldiers into Canada, and let all your yards work night and day to avenge the taking of two men Out of the Trent ? Old England shocked at a war of principle ! She gained her glories in such a war. Old England ashamed of a war of prin- ciple ! Her national ensign symbolizes her history — the cross in a field of blood. And will you tell us — who inherit your blood, your ideas, and your pluck — that we must not fight ? The child must heed the parents until the parents get old and tell the child not to do the thing that in early life they whipped him for not doing. And then the child says, father and mother are getting too old ; they had better be taken away from their present home and come to live with us. Perhaps you think there is coal enough. Perhaps you think the stock is not quite run out yet ; but whenever England comes to that state that she does not go to war for principle, she had better emigrate, and we will get room for her. THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE. W. C. BRYANT. Come, let us plant the apple-tree ' Cleave the tough greensward with the spade ; Wide let its hollow bed be made ; There gently lay the roots, and there Sift the dark mould with kindly care. And press it o'er them tenderly. As, round the sleeping infant's feet, We softly fold the cradle-sheet ; So plant we the apple-tree. What plant we in the apple-tree ? Buds, which the breath of summer days Shall lengthen into leafy sprays , Boughs, where the thmsh with crimson breast SELECTIONS. 99 Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest. We plant upon the sunny lea A shadow for the noontide hour, A shelter from the summer shower, When we plant the apple-tree. What plant we in the apple-tree ? Sweets for a hundred flowery springs, To load the May-wind's restless wings, When, from the orchard-row, he pours Its fragrance through our open doors ; A world of blossoms for the bee ; Flowers for the sick girl's silent room ; For the glad infant sprigs of bloom, We plant with the apple-tree. What plant we in the apple-tree ? Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, And redden in the August noon, And drop as gentle airs come by That fan the blue September sky ; While children, wild with noisy glee, Shall scent their fragrance as they pass, And search for them the tufted grass At the foot of the apple-tree. And when above this apple-tree The winter stars are quivering bright, And winds go howling through the night. Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth, Shall peel its fruit by cottage-hearth, And guests in prouder homes shall see. Heaped with the orange and the grape. As fair as they m tint and shape. The fruit of the apple-tree. The fruitage of this apple-tree Winds and our flag of stripe and star Shall bear to coasts that lie afar, Where men shall wonder at the view. And ask m what fair groves they grew ; ( And they who roam beyond the sea ' Shall look, and think of childhood's day, And long hours passed in summer play In the shade of the apple-tree. I lOO ELOCUTION. Each year shall give this apple-tree A broader flush of roseate bloom, A deeper maze of verdurous gloom, And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower, The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. The years shall come and pass, but we Shall hear no longer, where we lie, The summer's song, the autumn's sigh, In the boughs of the apple-tree. And time shall waste this apple-tree. Oh, when its aged branches throw Thin shadows on the sward below, Shall fraud and force and iron will Oppress the weak and helpless still ? What shall the tasks of mercy be, Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears Of those who live when length of years Is wasting this apple-tree? "Who planted this old apple-tree?" The children of that distant day Thus to some aged man will say ; And, gazing on its mossy stem. The gray-haired man shall answer them : " A poet of the land was he. Born in the rude, but good old times ; 'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes On planting the apple-tree." VI. THE DRUMMER'S BRIDE. a Hollow-eyed and pale at the window of a jail. Through her soft disheveled hair, a maniac did stare, h stare, stare ! At a distance, down the street, making music with their feet, Came the soldiers from the wars, all embellished with their scars, C To the tapping of a drum, of a drum ; To the pounding and the sounding of a drum ' d Of a drum, of a drum, of a drum ! drum, drum, drum ! a All the music of the sub-vocal 31 maybe brought out in reading this selection. Begin slow in the narrative voice, with such action as will represent the jail to the audience on the right, b Slow and slightly aspirate. c Musical and measured, d Prolong the M SELECTIONS. e The woman heaves a sigh, and a fire fills her eye. When she hears the distant drum, she cries f " Here they come ! here they come !" Then, clutching fast the grating, with eager, nervDus waiting, See, she looks into the air. through her long and silky hair, For the echo of a drum, of a drum ; For the cheering and the hearing of a drum ! Of a drum, of a drum, of a drum ! drum, drum, drum ! g And nearer, nearer, nearer, comes, more distinct and clearer. The rattle of the drumming ; shrieks the woman, 1i " He is coming. He is coming now to me ; quick, drummer, quick, till I see !" And her eye is glassy bright, while she beats in mad delight To the echo of a drum, of a drum ; To the rapping, tapping, tapping of a drum I Of a drum, of a drum, of a drum ! drum, drum, drum ! i Now she sees them, in the street, march along with dusty feet, As she looks through the spaces, gazing madly in their faces ; And she reaches out her hand,,^' screaming wildly to the band ; Ti But her words, like her lover, are lost beyond recover, 'Mid the beating of a drum, of a drum ; 'Mid the clanging and the banging of a drum ! Of a drum, of a drum, of a drum ! drum, drum, drum ! So the pageant passes by, and the woman's flashing eye / Quickly loses all its stare, and fills with a tear, with a tear ; As, sinking from her place, with her hands upon her face. '' Hear !" she weeps and sobs as mild as a disappointed child j Sobbing. ' He will never come, never come ' Now nor ever, never, never, will he come With his drum, with his drum, with his drum .' drum, drum, drum !" Still the drummer, up the street, beats his distant, dying beat. And she shouts, within her cell, m ' Ha ' they're marching down to hell, And the devils dance and wait at the open iron gate : n Hark ! it is the dying sound, as they march into the ground, To the sighing and the dying of the drum ! To the throbbing and the sobbing of the drum I Of a drum, of a drum, of a drum ! drum, drum, drum 1" sound in imitation of the drum , marching time. c Lower pitch ; slow movement, with feehng. / High pitch ; personation, then narrative with gesture. Close the stanza as the first, prolonging the JIT element in the last line, g Repetitions require change of pitch. Increase on these words, li Shriek this personation; continue little lower pitch, but with animation ; close this stanza more rapidly than the others ; represent the soldiers marching past, i High pitch and animated, j Very high. h Low pitch ; slow, with feeling. I Close this line with tremor voice — and personation same — with much emotion. »» Very loud, with action, n Low and slow, with vanishing sound, as if the drum sound was in the distance. JQ2 ELOCUTION. THE BACHELOR'S CANE-BOTTOMED CHAIR In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, Away from the world and its toils and its cares, I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure. But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure ; And the view I behold on a sunshiny day Is grand, through the chimney-pots over the way. This snug little chamber is crammed in all nooks. With worthless old knickknacks and silly old books. And foolish old odds and foolish old ends, Cracked bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends, Old armor, prints, pipes, china (all cracked,) Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed ; A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see ; What matter ? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. No better divan need the Sultan require, Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire ; And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. That praying-rug came from the Turcoman's camp ; By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; A Mameluke fierce, yonder dagger has drawn ; 'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times ; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, There's one that I love and cherish the best ; For the finest of couches that's padded with hair, I never would change thee, my cane-bottomed chair. 'Tis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-eaten seat. With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet ; But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottomed chair. SELECTIONS. j^^ If chairs have but feelings in holding such charms, A thrill must have passed through your old withered arms. I looked and I longed, and I wished in despair : I wished myself turned to a cane-bottomed chair. It was but a moment she sat in this place, She'd a scarf on her neck and a smile on her face ! A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, And she sat there and bloomed in my cane-bottomed chair. And so I have valued my chair ever since. Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince ; Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare, The queen of my heart and my cane-bottomed chair. When the candles burn low, and the company's gone, In the silence of night as I sit here alone — I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair — My Fanny I see in my cane-bottomed chair. She comes from the past and revisits my room. She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom — So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair — And yonder she sits, in my cane-bottomed chair. VIII. THE BELLS. E. A, POE. Hear the sledges with the bells, silver bells — What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle all the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight — Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells, golden bells. What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the balmy air of night how they ring out their delight ! From the molten-golden notes, all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats jQ. ELOCUTION. To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats on the moon. Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells, how it dwells On the Future ! how it tells of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells. Hear the loud alarum bells, brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night how they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, they can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In the clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire Leaping higher, higher, higher, with a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, now — now to sit or never. By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells, what a tale their terror tells of Despair ! How they clang, and clash and roar ! what a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air ! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging and the clanging, how the danger ebbs and flows ; Yet the ear distinctly tells. In the jangling, and the wrangling, how the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells bells, bells — In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! Flear the tolling of the bells, iron bells ! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of the night, how we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats from the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people — ah, the people ; they that dwell up in the steeple All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, in that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling on the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman ; they are neither brute nor human, They are ghouls ; And their king it is who tolls ; and he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, A paean from the bells ! and his merry bosom swells SELECTIONS With the paean of the bells ! and he dances and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells, of the bells : Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells, of the bells, bells, bells — To the sobbing of the bells ; Keeping time, time, time, as he knells, knells, knells. In a happy Runic rhyme, to the rolling of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells, to the tolling of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells — To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. I OS IX . A CATEGORICAL COURTSHIP. I sat one night beside a blue-eyed girl — The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother, A feeble flame around the lamp did curl, Making faint shadows, blending in each other ; 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November, She had a shawl on, also, I remember. Well, I had been to see her every night For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion To pop the question, thinking all was right. And once or twice had made an awkward motion To take her hand, and stammered, coughed, and stuttered, But somehow nothing to the point had uttered. I thought this chance too good now to be lost ; I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her. Drew a long breath, and then my legs I crossed. Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed her ; She looked as if she knew what next was coming. And with her foot upon the floor was drumming. I didn't know how to begin, or where — I couldn't speak, the words were always choking, I scarce could move — I seemed tied in my chair — I hardly breathed — 't was awfully provoking ; The perspiration from each pore was oozing. My heart and brain and limbs their power seemed losing. At length I saw a brindle tabby cat Walk purring up, inviting me to pat her ; An idea came, electric-like, at that — io6 ELOCUTION. My doubts, like summer clouds, began to scatter, I seized on' tabby, though a scratch she gave me, And said, "Come, Puss, ask Mary if she'll have me?" 'Twas done at once — the murder now was out, The thing was all explained in half a minute ; She blushed, and turning pussy cat about. Said, " Pussy, tell him, yes !" Her foot was in it ! The cat had thus saved me my category. And here's the catastrophe of my story. X. THE CLAIMS OF ITALY. I will leave antiquity out of the question, and speak only of modern times. Is it not a striking spectacle to see Italy always give the signal to the world, always open the way to great things } The first modern epic poet is an Italian — Dante ; the first lyric poet is an Italian — Petrarch; the first poet of chivalry is an Italian — Boccaccio ; the first painter in the world is an Italian — Raffaelle ; the first statuary is an Italian — Michael Angelo ; the first vigorous statesman and historian of the revival is an Italian — Machiavelli ; the first philosophical historian is an Italian — Nico ; the discoverer of the New World is an Italian — Christopher Columbus; and the first demon- strator of the laws of the heavenly worlds is an Italian — Gali- leo. You will find a son of Italy standing on every step of the temple of genius ever since the twelfth century. Then, in times nearer to our own, while all other nations are working at the continuation of this immortal gallery, Italy from time to time collects her strength, and presents to the world a colossus sur- passing all. Now, even now, the greatest of living artists — the only one, perhaps, who deserves, solely as an artist, the title of a great man — is he not an Italian — Rossini.^ And lastly, was he not also a son of Italy — that giant who towered above the whole century, and covered all around him with his light or his shade — Napoleon } In fact, it would seem that when Providence wanted a guide or a leader for humanity, it strikes this favored soil, and a great man springs forth. SELECTIONS. ^ XI. DRUNKARDS NOT ALL BRUTES. JOHN B. GOUGH. I said when I began, that I was a trophy of this movement ; and therefore the principal part of my work has been (not ig- noring other parts,) in behalf of those who have suffered as I have suffered. You know there is a great deal said about the reckless victims of this foe being "brutes." No, they are not brutes. I have labored for about eighteen years among them, and I never have found a brute. I have had men swear at me ; I have had a man dance around me as if possessed of a devil, and spit his foam in my face ; but he is not a brute. I think it is Charles Dickens who says : " Away up a great many pair of stairs, in a very remote corner, easily passed by, there is a door, and on that door is written ' woman.' " And so in the heart of the vile outcast, away up a great many pair of stairs, in a very remote corner, easily passed by, there is a door on which is written " man." Here is our business to find that door. It may take time; but begin and knock. Don't .get tired ; but remember God's long-suffering for us and keep knocking a long time if need be. Don't get weary if there is no answer ; remember him whose locks were wet with dew. Knock on — just try it — yoit try it ; and just so sure as you do, just so sure, by and by, will the quivering lip and starting tear tell you have knocked at the heart of a man, and not of a brute. It is because these poor wretches are men, and not brutes that we have hopes of them. They said "he is a brute — let him alone." I took him home with me and kept the " brute" fourteen days and nights, through his delirium ; and he nearly frightened Mary out of her wits, once, chasing her about the house with a boot in his hand. But she recovered her wits, and he recovered his. He said to me, " You wouldn't think I had a wafe and child .'*" " Well, I shouldn't." " I have, and — God bless her little heart — my little Mary is as pretty a little thing as ever stepped," said the " brute." I asked, " where do they live V " They live two miles away from here." "When did you see them last.-*" io8 ELOCUTION ^' About two years ago." Then he told me his story. I said, '' you must go back to your home again." " I mustn't go back — I won't — my wife is better without me than with me ! I will not go back any more ; I have knocked her, and kicked her, and abused her ; do you suppose I will go back again.?" I went to the house with him ; I knocked at the door and his wife opened it. " Is this Mrs Richardson ?" "Yes, sir." "Well, that is Mr. Richardson. And Mr. Richardson, that is Mrs. Richardson. Now come into the house." They went in. The wife sat on one side of the room and the "brute" on the other. I waited to see who would speak first; and it was the woman. But before she spoke she fidgetted a good deal. She pulled her apron till she got hold of the hem, and then she pulled it down again. Then she folded it up closely, and jerked it out through her fingers an inch at a time, and then she spread it all down again ; and then she looked all about the room and said, " Well, William .?" And the "brute" said, " Well, Mary ?" He had a large handkerchief round his neck, and she said, "'You had better take the handkerchief off, William ; you'll need it when you go out." He began to fumble about it. The knot was large enough ; he could have untied it if he liked; but he said, "Will you untie it, Mary.?" and she worked away at it ; but /ler fingers were clumsy, and she couldn't get it off; their eyes met, and the lovelight was not all quenched ; she opened her arms gently and he fell into them. If you had seen those white arms clasped about his neck, and he sobbing on her breast, and the child looking in wonder first at one and then at the other, you would have said " It is not a brute; it is a man, with a great, big, warm heart in his breast." XII. THE ADMISSION OF CALIFORNIA. W. H. SEWARD. J A year ago, California was a mere military dependency of our j own, and we were celebrating with unanimity and enthusiasm SELECTIONS. its acquisition, with its newly-discovered but yet untold and un- touched mineral wealth, as the most auspicious of many and un- paralleled achievements.' To-day, California is a State, more populous than the least and richer than several of the greatest of our thirty States. This same California, thus rich and populous, is here asking admission into the Union, and finds us debating the dissolu- tion of the Union itself. No wonder if we are perplexed with ever-changing embar- rassments ! No wonder if we are appalled by ever-increasing responsibilities ! No wonder if we are bewildered by the ever- augmenting magnitude and rapidity of national vicissitudes ! Shall California be received ? For myself, upon my in- dividual judgment and conscience, I answer. Yes. For my- self, as an instructed representative of one of the States, of that one even of the States which is soonest and longest to be pressed in commercial and political rivalry by the new common- wealth, I answer, Yes. Let California come in. Every new State, whether she come from the East or from the West, every new State, coming from whatever part of the continent she may, is always welcome. But California, that comes from the clime where the west dies away into the rising east; California, which bounds at once the empire and the continent ; California, the youthful queen of the Pacific, in her robes of freedom, gorgeous- ly inlaid with gold — is doubly welcome. Let, then, those who distrust the Union make compromise to save it. I shall not impeach their wisdom, as I certainly can not their patriotism ; but, indulging no such apprehension my- self, I shall vote for the admission of California directly, with- out conditions, without qualifications, and without compromise. For the vindication of that vote I look not to the verdict of the passing hour, disturbed as the public mind now is by con- flicting interests and passions, but to that period, happily not far distant, when the vast regions over which we are now legis- lating shall have received their destined inhabitants. While looking forward to that day, its countless generations seem to me to be rising up and passing in dim and shadowy re- ELOCUTION. view before us ; and a voice comes forth from their serried ranks, saying, " Waste your treasures and your armies, if you will ; raze your fortifications to the ground ; sink your navies into the sea ; transmit to us even a dishonored name, if you must ; but the soil you hold in trust for us — give it to us free. You found it free, and conquered it to extend a better and surer freedom over it. AVhatever choice you have made for yourselves, let us have no partial freedom • let us all be free , let the reversion of your broad domain descend to us unincum- bered, and free from the calamities and the sorrows of human bondage." POOR LITTLE JIM. , The cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean. But all within that little cot was wondrous neat and clean ; The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howling wild, As a patient mother sat beside the death-bed of her child : A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes grown dim : It was a collier's wife and child, they called him little Jim. , And oh ! to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her cheek, As she offered up the prayer, in thought, she was afraid to speak, Lest she might waken one she loved far better than her life ; For she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's wife. With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the sufferer's bed, And prays that He would spare her boy, and take herself instead. She gets her answer from the child : soft fall the words from him, " Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim, I have no pain, dear mother, now, but oh ! I am so dry, Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother, don't you cry." With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid to his lip ; He smiled to thank her, as he took each little, tiny sip. . *' Tell father, when he comes from work, I said good-night to him. And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas ! poor little Jim ! She knew that he was dying ; that the child she loved so dear Had uttered the last words she might ever hope to hear : The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is heard, The father and the mother meet, yet neither speak a word. SELECTIONS. He felt that all was over, he knew his child was dead, He took the candle in his hand and walked towards the bed , His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal, And see, his wife has joined him — the stricken couple kneel : With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask of Him, In heaven, once more, to meet again their own poor little Jim. Ill THE LITTLE ORATOR, a Pray how should I, a little lad, b In speaking make a figure? C You're only joking, I'm afraid — Do wait till I am bigger. d But, since you wish to hear my part, And urge me to begin it, e ril strive for praise with all my heart. Though small the hope to win it. I'll tell a tale, /'how farmer John A little roan colt bred, sir. And every night and every morn, He watered and he fed, sir. g Said neighbor Joe to farmer John, " Ar'n't you a silly dolt, sir. To spend such time and care upon A little, useless colt, sir?" Said farmer John to neighbor Joe, '■ I bring my little roan up, Not for the good he now can do. But will do. when he's grown up." The moral you can well espy, To keep the tale from spoiling, a This is the best selection we have ever seen for a child to begin with. He can recite It and retain his childish simplicity, which is much to be desired. b Give this line with double gesture, palms up. c Right hand extended to the teacher. ^ill make its way to the hearts of the hearers, through their ears and eyes, with a delight to both, that is sel- dom felt ; while, contrary to what is now practiced, it will ap- pear to the former the very language of nature, and present to the latter the lively i7nage of the preacher s soul. Were a taste for this kind of elocution to take place, it is difficult to say ii6 ELOCUTION. how much the preaching art would gain by it. Pronunciation would be studied, an ear would be formed, the voice would be modulated, every feature of the face, every motion of the hands, every posture of the body, would be brought under right man- agement. A graceful, and correct, and animated expression in all these would be ambitiously sought after ; mutual criticisms and friendly hints would be universally acknowledged ; light and direction would be borrowed from every quarter, and from every age. The best models of antiquity would in a particular manner be admired, surveyed, and imitated. The sing-song voice, and the see-saw gestures, if I may be allowed to use those expressions, would, of course, be exploded ; and, in time, nothing would be admitted, at least approved, among perform- ers, but what was decent, manly, and truly excellent in kind. Even the people themselves would contract, insensibly, a grow- ing relish for such a manner ; and those preachers would at last be in chief repute with all, who followed nature, overlooked themselves, appeared totally absorbed in the subject, and spoke with real propriety and pathos, from the immediate impulse of truth and virtue. XIX. PYRAMUS AND THISBE. JOHN G. SAXE. This tragical tale, which, they say, is a true one, Is old ; but the manner is wholly a new one. One Ovid, a writer of some reputation, Has told it before in a tedious narration ; In a style, to be sure, of remarkable fullness, But which nobody reads on account of its dullness. Young Peter Pyramus — I call him Peter, Not for the sake of the rhyme of the meter ; But merely to make the name completer — For Peter lived in the olden times. And in one of the worst of pagan climes SELECTIONS. That flourish now in classical fame, Long before either noble or boor Had such a thing as a Chnsiian name — Young Peter, then, was a nice young beau As any young lady would wish to know ; In years. I ween, he was rather green. That is to say, he was just eighteen, — A trifle too short, a shaving too lean. But " a nice young man" as ever was seen. And fit to dance with a May-day Queen ! Now Peter loved a beautiful girl As ever ensnared the heart of an earl, In the magical trap of an auburn curl, — A little Miss Thisbe, who lived next door, (They slept, in fact, on the very same floor. With a wall between them and nothing more, — Those double dwellings were common of yore,) And they loved each other, the legends say. In that very beautiful, bountiful way, That every young maid and every young blade Are wont to do before they grow staid. And learn to love by the laws of trade. But (a-lack-a-day. for the girl and boy ') A little impediment checked their joy. And gave them awhile, the deepest annoy. For some good reason, which history cloaks. The match didn't happen to please the old folks ! So Thisbe's father and Peter's mother Began the young couple to worry and bother. And tried their innocent passion to smother. By keeping the lovers from seeing each other ! But who ever heard of a marriage deterred Or even deferred By any contrivance so very absurd As scolding the boy, and caging the bird ? Now, Peter, who was not discouraged at all By obstacles such as the timid appall, Contrived to discover a hole in the wall, Which wasn't so thick but removing a brick Made a passage — though rather provokingly small. Through this little chink the lover could greet her. And secrecy made their courting the sweeter, While Peter kissed Thisbe, and Thisbe kissed Peter- 117 ii8 ELOCUTION. For kisses, like folks with diminutive souls, Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes! 'T was here that the lovers, intent upon love. Laid a nice little plot to meet at a spot Near a mulberry-tree in a neighboring grove ; For the plan was all laid by the youth and the maid Whose hearts, it would seem, were uncommonly bold ones. To run off and get married in spite of the old ones. In the shadows of evening, as still as a mouse, The beautiful maiden slipped out of the house. The mulberry-tree impatient to find ; While Peter, the vigilant matrons to blind, Strolled leisurely out, some minutes behind. While waiting alone by the trysting tree, A terrible lion as e'er you set eye on. Came roaring along quite horrid to see, And caused the young maiden in terror to flee, (A lion's a creature whose regular trade is Blood — and " a terrible thing among ladies,") And losing her veil as she ran from the wood, The monster bedabbled it over with blood. Now Peter arriving and seeing the veil All covered o'er and reeking with gore. Turned, all of a sudden, exceedingly pale, And sat himself down to weep and to wail, — For, soon as he saw the garment, poor Peter, Made up his mind in very short meter, That Thisbe was dead, and the lion had eat her ! So breathing a prayer, he determined to share The fate of his darling, 'the loved and the lost," And fell on his dagger, and gave up the ghost ! Now Thisbe returning^ and viewing her beau.. Lying dead by her vail, (which she happened to know,) She guessed in a moment the cause of his erring ; And seizing the knife that had taken his life, In less than a jiffy was dead as a herring. Young gentleman — pray recollect if you please, Not to make assignations near mulberry-trees. Should your mistress be missing, it shows a weak head To be stabbing yourself, till you know she is dead. SELECTIONS Young ladies ! — you shouldn't go strolling about When your anxious mammas don't know you are out ; And remember that accidents often befall From kissing young fellows through holes in the wall ! 119 XX. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, RICHARD GRANT AVHITE. In his introduction to The Merchant of Ktv^/ci?, Mr. White, after showing " that the storj' of this comedy, even to its episodic part and its minutest incidents, bad been told again and again long before Shakespeare was born, ' vindicates him from the charge of plagiarism in the following matchless paragraph : — What then remains to Shakespeare ? and what is there to show that he is not a plagiarist? Everything that makes The Merchant of Venice what it is. The people are puppets, and the incidents are all in these old stories . They are mere bundles of barren sticks that the poet's touch causes to bloom like Aaron's rod : they are heaps of dry bones till he clothes them with human flesh and breathes into them the breath of life. Antonio, grave, pensive, prudent, save in his devotion to his young kinsman^ as a Christian hating the Jew. as a loyal mer- chant despising the usurer ; Bassanio, lavish yet provident, a generous gentleman although a fortune seeker, wise although a gay gallant, and manly though dependent ; Graiiano, who unites the not too common virtues of thorough good nature and unselfishness with the sometimes not unserviceable fault of talking for talk's sake ; Shylock, crafty and cruel, whose revenge is as mean as it is fierce and furious, whose abuse never rises to invective, or his anger into wrath, and who has yet some dignity of port as the avenger of a nation's wrongs, some claim upon our sympathy as a father outraged by his only child ; and Portia^ matchless impersonation of that rare woman who is gifted even more in intellect than in loveliness, and yet who stops gracefully short of the offence of intellectuality ; — these, not to notice minor characters no less perfectly arranged or completely developed after their kind, — these, and the poetry I20 ELOCUTION. which is their atmosphere, and through which they beam upon us, all radiant in its golden light, are Shakespeare's only; and these it is, and not the incidents of old, and, but for these, for- gotten tales, that make The Merchant of Venice a priceless and imperishable dower to the queenly city that sits enthroned upon the sea ; — a dower of romance more bewitching than that of her moonlit waters and beauty-laden balconies, of adornment more splendid than that of her pictured palaces, of human in- terest more enduring than that of her blood-stained annals, more touching even than the sight of her faded grandeur. XXI. THE ALARM,— APRIL 19, 1776. GEORGE BANCROFT. Darkness closed upon the country and upon the town, but it was no night for sleep. Heralds on swift relays of horses transmitted the war-message from hand to hand, till village re- peated it to village ; the sea to the backwoods ; the plains to the highlands ; and it was never suffered to droop, till it had been borne North, and South, and East, and West, throughout the land. It spread over the bays that receive the Saco and Penob- scot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the trappers of New Hampshire, and ringing like bugle-notes from peak to peak, overleapt the Green Mountains, swept onward to Montreal, and descended the ocean river, till the responses were echoed from the cliffs of Quebec. The hills along the Hudson told to one another the tale. As the summons hurried to the South, it was one day at New York ; in one more at Philadelphia ; the next it lighted a watchfire at Baltimore ; thence it waked an answer at Annapolis. Crossing the Potomac near Mount Vernon, it was sent forward without a halt to Williamsburg. It traversed the Dismal Swamp to Nansemond, along the route of the first emigrants to North Carolina. It moved onward and still on- ward through boundless groves of evergreen to Newbern and to Wilmington. " For God's sake, forward it by night and by SELECTIONS. j2T day," wrote Cornelius Harnett, by the express which sped for Brunswick. Patriots of South Carolina caught up its tones at the border and despatched it to Charleston, and through pines and palmettos and moss-clad live oaks, further to the South, till it resounded among the New England settlements beyond the Savannah. Hillsborough and the Mecklenburg district of North Carolina rose in triumph, now that their wearisome uncer- tainty had its end. The Blue Ridge took up the voice and made it heard from one end to the other of the valley of Virgi- nia. The Alleghanies, as they listened, opened their barriers that the '' loud call" might pass through to the hardy riflemen on the Holston, the Watauga and the French Broad. Ever re- newing its strength, powerful enough even to create a common- wealth, it breathed its inspiring word to the first settlers of Ken- tucky ; so that hunters who made their halt in the matchless valley of the Elkhorn, commemorated the nineteenth day of April by naming their encampment Lexington. With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms ; with one spirit they pledged themselves to each other " to be ready for the extreme event." With one heart the continent cried, " Liberty or death." THE LOST STEAMSHIP. FITZ-J.\MES O'BRIEN. Ho. there ! fisherman, hold your hand ! Tell me what is that far away — There, where over the Isle of Sand Hangs the mist-cloud sullen and gray ? See ! It rocks with a ghastly life, Raising and rolling through clouds of spray, Right in the midst of the breakers' strife — ■ Tell me, what is it, Fisherman, pray ?" " That, good sir, was a steamer, stout As ever paddled around Cape Race, 122 ELOCUTION. And many's the wild and stormy bout She had with the winds m that self-same place ; But her time had come ; and at ten o'clock Last night she struck on that lonesome shore, And her sides were gnawed by the hidden rock, And at dawn this morning she was no more." " Come, as you seem to know, good man, The terrible fate of this gallant ship, Tell me all about her that you can, — And here's my flask to moisten your lip. Tell me how many she had on board — Wives and husbands, and lovers true — How did it fare with her human hoard, Lost she many' or lost she few^?" '■• Master, I may not drmk of your flask, Already too moist I feel my lip ; But I'm ready to do what else you ask. And spin you my yarn about the ship ; 'Twas ten o'clock, as I said, last night. When she struck the breakers and went ashore. And scarce had broken the morning's light Than she sank in twelve feet of water, or more. " But long ere this they knew their doom. And the Captain called ail hands to prayer ; And solemnly over the ocean's boom The orisons rose on the troubled air. And round about the vessel there rose Tall plumes of spray as white as snow, Like angels in their ascension clothes. Waiting for those who prayed below. "So those three hundred people clung As well as they could to spar and I'ope ; With a word of prayer upon every tongue, Nor on any face a glimmer of hope. But there was no blubbering weak and wild — Of tearful faces I saw but one, A rough old salt, who cried like a child. And not for himself, but the Captain's son, " The Captain stood on the quarter-deck, Firm but pale, with trumpet in hand, SELECTIONS Sometimes he looked on the breaking wreck, Sometimes he sadly looked on land. And often he smiled to cheer the crew — But, Lord ! the smile was terrible grim — 'Till over the quarter a huge sea flew, And that was the last they saw of him. " I saw one young fellow, with his bride. Standing amidship upon the wreck ; His face was white as the boiling tide, And she was clinging about his neck. And I saw them try to say good-bye, But neither could hear the other speak ; So they floated away through the sea to die — Shoulder to shoulder, and cheek to cheek. " And there was a child, but eight at best. Who went his way m a sea we shipped, All the while holding upon his breast A little pet parrot whose wings were clipped. And as the boy and the bird went by. Swinging away on a tall wave's crest. They were grappled by a man with a drowning cry. And together the three went down to rest. " And so the crew went one by one. Some with gladness, and few with fear ; Cold and hardship such work had done That few seemed frightened when death was near. Thus every soul on board went down — Sailor and passenger, little and great ; The last that sank was a man of my town, A capital swimmer — the second mate." " Now, lonely Fisherman, who are you. That say you saw this terrible wreck ? How do I know what you say is true. When every mortal was swept from the deck? Where were you in that hour of death ? How do you know what you relate ?" His answer came in an under-breath — " Master, I was the second mate !" 123 ELOCUTION. 124 XXIII. THE SKY-LARK, JAMES HOGG. Bird of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place, Oh to abide in the desert with thee ! Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth, Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen. O'er moor and mountain green. O'er the red streamers that herald the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim. Musical cherub, soar, singing away ! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness. Blest is thy dwelling-place — Oh to abide in the desert with thee ! XXIV. DISCIPLINE. Look at that noble vessel on yon high sea. She has sprung a leak ; all the resources on board have been called into play for her release from the deep, but to no avail. The waters are gaining fast on her — beyond human control — she must sink ! A regiment of brave, perfectly disciplined soldiers are mustered on deck by a quick roll of the drum ; officers and soldiers SELECTIONS. j - C promptly fill their rank and file, and shoulder arms. See them standing in serried ranks, and completely accoutered for a long, long march. Not a mournful dirge, but the national anthem is played by the band. The regimental colors flutter in the air. The staff that supports them is as firm as the stout heart of the ensign that holds it. The array of battle is reflected in mourn- ful appearance on the lowering clouds, which seem anxious to veil the waters rippled with the breath of death. Insidiously does the water leap at last over the bulwarks of the gallant and doomed ship, and down, down she goes. The martial voice of the commandant orders, ''''Present^ ar77is T A rapid succession of orders is calmly given, and calmly executed; the drums beat quicker and quicker ; the muskets thump on deck at the last word of command, a splash at their fall, a surge of the invading waters, the drum is silenced, an army of bubbles swarms on the surface, and calm and silent and steady the last glare of the polished steel reflects a dying ray of mournful light. There is discipline for you XX V . THE TOWN OF PASSAGE — FATHER PROUT. FRANCIS MAHONY. The town of Passage Cross o'er the ferry Is both large and spacious, To *' Carrigaloe," And situated On the other side. Upon the say ; 'Tis nate and dacent Mud cabins swarm in And quite adjacent This place so charming, To come from Cork And sailors' garments On a summer's day. Hung out to dry ; There you may slip in, And each abode is To take a dipping, Snug and commodious, Forenent the shipping With pigs melodious That at anchor ride ; In the straw-built sty. Or in a wherry T is there the turf is, 126 ELOCUTION. And lots of murphies, Dead sprats and and herrings And oyster-shells ; Nor any lack, O ! Of good tobacco — Though what is smuggled By far excels. There are ships from Cadiz, And from Barbadoes — But the leading trade is In whiskey-punch ; And you may go in Where one, Molly Bowen, Keeps a nate hotel. For a quiet lunch. But land or deck on You may safely reckon, Whatsoever country You come hither from — On an invitation To a jollification With a parish priest That's called " Father Tom.' Of ships there's one fixed For lodging convicts — A floating " stone jug" Of amazing bulk ; The hake and salmon, Playing at back gammon, Swim for divarsion All round this hulk. There "Saxon" jailors Keep brave repailers Who soon with sailors Must anchor weigh — From th' Em'rald Island Ne'er to see dry land Until they spy land In sweet Bot'ny Bay. THE " PROFESSOR OF SIGNS ; OR, TWO WAYS TELLING A STORY." OF When James VI. removed to London he was waited on by the Spanish Ambassador who had a crotchet in his head that there should be a Professor of Signs in every kingdom. He lamented to the King one day that no country in Europe had such a Professor, and that even for himself he was thus de- prived of the pleasure of communicating his ideas in that man- ner. The King replied : " Why, I have a Professor of Signs in the northernmost Col- lege of my dominion, at Aberdeen, but it is a great way off, per- haps six hundred miles." " \Vere it ten thousand leagues off, I shall see him, and am determined to set out in two or three days." The King saw he had committed himself, and wrote to the SELECTIONS. . _. University of Aberdeen, stating the case, and asking the Pro- fessors to put him off in some way, or make the best of him. The Ambassador arrived — was received with great solemn- ity, and soon inquired which of them had the honor to be Pro- fessor of Signs. He was told the Professor was absent in thfc Highlands, and would return nobody could tell when. " I will await his return though it be a year." Seeing that this would not do, as they had to entertain him at great expense, they contrived a stratagem. There was one Sandy, a butcher, blind in one eye, a droll fellow, with some wit and roguery about him. They told him the story, instructed him to be a Professor of Signs ; but not to speak a word under pain of losing the promised five pounds for his success. To the great joy of the Ambassador, he was informed that the Professor would be home the next day. Sandy was dressed in a wig and gown, and placed in a Chair of State in one of the college halls. The Ambassador was conducted to Sandy's door and shown in, while all the Profes- sors waited in another room in suspense and with anxiety for the success of their scheme. The Ambassador approached Sandy and held up one finger, Sandy held up two ; the Ambassador held up three, Sandy clenched his fist and looked stern. The Ambassador then took an orange from his pocket and held it up, Sandy took a barley- cake from his pocket and held that. The Ambassador then bowed and returned to the other Professors, who anxiously in- quired the result. " He is a wonderful man, a perfect miracle of knowledge ; he is worth all the wealth of the Indies." "Well," inquired the Professors, "tell us the particulars." "Why," the Ambassador replied, "I held up one finger, de- noting there is one God ; he held up two, signifying that there are Father and Son. I held up three to indicate the Holy Trinity ; he clenched his fist to show that these three are one. I then showed him an orange, to illustrate the goodness of God in giving to his creatures the luxuries as well as the necessaries of life ; and this most wonderful philosopher presented a piece o ELOCUTION. of bread to show that the staff of life is preferable to every luxury." The Professors were, of course, highly delighted, and the Ambassador departed for London to thank the King for the honor of knowing a Professor of Signs. The Professors then called upon Sandy to give his version of the interview. "The rascal!" said Sandy. "What do you think he did first ? He held up one finger, as much as to say, you have only one eye. Then I held up two, to show that I could see as much with one as he could with two. And then the fellow held up three fingers, to say that we had but three eyes between us. That made me mad, and I doubled up my fist to give him a whack for his impudence, and I would have done it but for my promise to you not to offend him. Yet that was not the end of his provocations ; but he showed me an orange, as much as to say, your poor, rocky, beggarly, cold country can not pro- duce that. I showed him an oatmeal bannock that I had in my pocket, to let him know that I did na' care a farthing for all his trash, and signs neither, sae lung as I hae this. And, by all that's guid, I'm angry yet that I did not thrash the hide off the scoundrel." So much for two ways of understanding a thing. THE DEMON OF THE FIRE. CHAS. D. GARDETTE. In the deepest depth of midnight, while the sad and solemn sweU Still was floating, faintly echoed from the forest chapel bell — Faintly, falteringly floating o'er the sable waves of air That were through the midnight rolling, chafed and billoMywith thetolling- In my chamber I lay dreaming, by the fire-light's fitfid gleaming, And my dreams were dreams foreshadowed on a heart foredoomed to care. As the last, long, lingering echo of the midnight's mystic chime. Lifting through the sable billows of the thither shore of Time — SELECTIONS. 129 Leaving on the startless silence not a token nor a trace — In a quivering sigh departed : from my couch m fear I started ; Started to my feet in terror, for my dream's phantasmal error Painted in the fitful fire a frightful, fiendish, flaming face ! On the red hearth's reddest center from a blazing knot of oak, Seemed to gibe and grin this phantom when m terror I awoke, And my slumberous eyelids straining, as I staggered to the floor. Still in that dread vision seeming, turned my gaze toward the gleaming Hearth, and there ! — O God ! I saw it ; and from its flaming jaw it Spat a ceaseless, seething, hissing, bubbling, gurgling stream of gore ! Speechless, struck with stony silence, frozen to the floor I stood, Till methought my brain was hissing with that hissing, bubbling blood ; Till I felt my life-stream oozing from those lambent lips ; Till the demon seemed to name me — then a wondrous calm came o'er me ; And my brow grew cold and dewy, with a death damp stiff and gluey ; And I fell back on my pillow, in apparent soul eclipse. Then as in death's seeming shadow, in the icy fall of fear I lay, stricken, came a hoarse and hideous murmur to my ear ; Came a murmur like the murmur of assassins in their sleep — Muttering, '"' Higher ! higher ! higher ! I am demon of the Fire ! I am Arch-Fiend of the Fire, and each blazing roof 's my pyre, And my sweetest incense is the blood and tears my victims weep ! " How I revel on the prairie ! how I roar among the pines ! How I laugh when from the village o'er the snow the red flame shines, And I hear the shrieks of terror, with a life in every breath ! How I scream with lambent laughter, as I hurl each crackling rafter DoAvn the fell abyss of fire — until higher! higher ! higher ! Leap the high priests of my altar, in their merry dance of death ! "I am Monarch of the Fire ' I am Vassal King of Death ! World enriching, with the shadow of its doom upon my breath ! With the symbol of Hereafter flaming from my fatal face ! I command the Eternal Fire ! Higher ! higher ! higher ! higher ! Leap my ministering demons, like phantasmagoric lemans Hugging Universal Nature in their hideous embrace !" Then a sombre silence shut me in a solemn, shrouding sleep. And I slumbered like an infant in the " cradle of the deep," Till the belfry in the forest quivered with the matin stroke. And the martins, from the edges of the lichen-lidded lodges, Shimmered through the russet arches, where the light in torn files marches Like a routed army struggling through the serried ranks of oak. J ^Q ELOCUTION. Through my ivy-fretted casements, filtered in a tremulous note, From the tall and stately linden, where the robin swelled his throat - Querulous, quaker-breasted robin, calling quaintly for his mate ! Then I started up unbidden from my slumber, night-mare ridden. With the memory of that dire demon in my central fire, On my eye's interior mirror like the shadow of a fate ! Ah ! the fiendish fire had smouldered to a white and formless heap, And no knot of oak was flaming as it flamed upon my sleep ; But around its very center, where the demon face had shone, Forked shadows seemed to linger, pointing, as with spectral finger, To a Bible, massive, golden, on a table carved and olden : And I bowed and said, •' All power is of God — of God alone !" LOVE AND LATIN. "Apio, Amare, Amavi, Ajnahtm." Dear girls, never marry for knowledge, (Though that, of course, should form a part,) For often the head, while at college. Gets wise at the cost of the heart. Let me tell you a fact that is real — I once had a beau, in my youth, My brightest and best " beau ideal" Of manliness, goodness, and truth. Oh, he talked of the Greeks and the Romans, Of Normans, and Saxons, and Celt ; And he quoted from Virgil and Homer, And Plato, and — somebody else. And he told his deathless aff'ection. By means of a thousand strange herbs, With numberless words in connection, Derived from the roots — of Greek verbs. One night, as a slight innuendo, When nature was mantled in snov/. He wrote in the frost on the window, A sweet word in Latin — anw." Oh, it needed no words for expression, For that I had long understood ; SELECTIONS. But there was bis written confession — Present tense and indicative mood. But oh, how man's passion will vary ! For scarcely a year had passed by, When he changed the " amo" to " amare^^ But instead of an 'V" was a ''jj/." Yes, a Mary had certainly taken The heart once so fondly my OAvn, And I, the rejected, forsaken. Was left to reflection alone. Since then I've a horror of Latin, And students uncommonly smart ; True love, one should always put that in, To balance the head by the heart. To be a fine scholar and linguist. Is much to one's credit, I know, But '• / love^ should be said in plain English, And not with a Latin " amoy 131 THE SCULPTOR BOY. Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy. With his marble block before him ; — And his face lit up with a smile of joy As an angel dream passed o'er him. He carv^ed that dream on the yielding stone With many a sharp incision ; In heaven's own light the sculptor shone, He had caught that angel vision. Sculptors of life are we, as we stand With our lives uncarved before us. Waiting the hour, when, at God's command, Our life dream passes o'er us. Let us carve it, then, on the yielding stone With many a sharp incision ; — Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, — Our lives, that angel vision. J ^2 ELOCUTION XXX. " BLESSED IS THE MAN WHOM THOU CHASTENEST.' SIR RICHARD GRANT. Saviour, whose mercy, severe in its kindness, Has chastened my wanderings and guided my way, Adored be the power that illumined my blmdness, And weaned me from phantoms that smiled to betray. Enchanted with all that was dazzlmg and fair, I followed the rainbow, I caught at the toy ; And still in displeasure thy goodness was there, Disappointing the hope, and defeating the joy. The blossom blushed bright, but a worm was below ; The moonlight shone fair, there was blight in the beam ; Swe&t whispered the breeze, but it whispered of woe. And bitterness flowed m the soft flowing stream. So, cured of my folly, yet cured but in part, I turned to the refuge thy pity displayed ; And still did this eager and credulous heart Weave visions of promise that bloomed but to fade, 1 thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven Would be bright as the summer, and glad as the morn ; Thou show'dst me the path, — it was dark and uneven, All rugged with rock and tangled with thorn. I dreamed of celestial reward and renown, I grasped at the triumph that blesses the brave, I asked for the palm-branch, the robe, and the crown, — I asked, — and thou show'dst me a cross and a grave. Subdued and instructed, at length, to thy will. My hopes and my longings I fain would resign ; Oh give me the heart that can wait and be still. Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but thine. There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe. But they stand in a region by mortals untrod ; There are rivers of joy, but they flow not below ; There is rest, but it dwells in the presence of God. SELECTIONS. ^ ^ ^ ^33 THE FRENCHMAN AND THE FLEA POWDER. ORIGINAL VERSION — BY PROF. RAYMOND A Frenchman once — so runs a certain ditty — Had crossed the Straits to famous London city, To get a living by the arts of France, And teach his neighbor, rough John Bull, to dance. But, lacking pupils, vain was all his skill ; His fortunes sank from low to lower still. Until at last, pathetic to relate. Poor Monsieur landed at starvation's gate. Standing, one day, at a cook-shop door, And gazing in with aggravation sore, He mused within himself what he should do To fill his empty maw, and pocket too. By nature shrewd, he soon contrived a plan. And thus to execute it straight began. A piece of common brick he quickly found, And with a harder stone to powder ground. Then wrapped the dust in many a dainty piece Of paper, labeled " Poison for de Fleas," And sallied forth, his roguish trick to try, To show his treasures, and see who'd buy. From street to street he cried, with lusty yell, " Here's grand and sovereign flea poudare to sell." And fickle fortune seemed to smile at last, For soon a woman hailed him as he passed, Struck a quick bargain with him for the lot, And made him five crowns richer on the spot. Our wight, encouraged by this ready sale. Went into business on a larger scale, And soon throughout all London scattered he The '* only genuine poudare for de flea." Engaged one morning in his new vocation Of mingled boasting and dissimulation, He thought he heard himself in anger called ; And sure enough the self-same woman brawled, In not a very mild or tender mood. From the same window where before she stood. " Hey, there !" said she, "you Monsher Powder-man ; Escape my clutches now, sir, if you can ! I'll let you dirty, thieving Frenchmen know, 134 ELOCUTION. That decent people won't be cheated so. How dare you tell me that your worthless stuft' Would make my bedsteads clean and clear enough Of bugs ? I've rubbed those bedsteads o'er and o'er. And now the plagues are thicker than before !" Then spoke Monsieur, and heaved a saintly sigh, "With humble attitude and tearful eye, " Ah, madam ! s'il vous plait, attendez-vous — I vill dis leetle ting explain to you. My poudare gran'! magnifique ' why abuse him? Aha ! I show you, Madam, how to use him. You must not spread him in large quantity Upon de bedstead — no ! dat's not de vay. First, you must wait until you catch de flea ; Den, tickle he on de petite rib, you see ; And when he laugh — aha ! he ope his throat ; YiQx\.poke de poudare dowjz ! — Begar ! he choke ! !*' SHAKESPEARE'S SEVEN AGES OF MAN. All the world's a stage. And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man, in his time, plays many parts, — His Acts being seven ages. At first, the Infant Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; Then the whining Schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school : And then the Lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow : Then a Soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like a pard ; Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble Reputation Even in the cannon's mouth : And then the Justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd ; With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, — And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd Pantaloon, SELECTIONS. j^r With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank : and his big, manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, That ends this strange, eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans — everything. X X X 1 1 r. OPPOSITE EXAMPLES. I ask the young man who is just forming his habits of life, or just beginning to indulge those habitual trains of thought out of which habits grow, to look around him, and mark the examples whose fortunes he would covet, or whose fate he would abhor. Even as we walk the streets, we meet with examples of each ex- treme. Here, behold the patriarch, whose stock of vigor three- score years and ten seems scarcely to have impaired. His erect form, his firm step, his elastic limbs, and undimmed senses, are so many certificates of good conduct; or, rather, so many jew- els and orders of nobility with which nature has honored him for his fidelity to her laws. His fair complexion shows that his blood has never been corrupted ; his pure health that he never yielded his digestive apparatus to abuse ; his exact language and keen apprehension, that his brain has never been drugged or stupified by the poisons of distiller or tobacconist. Enjoy- ing his appetites to the highest, he has preserved the power of enjoying them. As he drains the cup of life, there are no lees at the bottom. His organs will reach the goal of existence to- gether. Painlessly as the candle burns down in its socket, so will he expire ; and a little imagination would convert him into another Enoch, translated from earth to a better world without the sting of death. But look at an opposite extreme, where an opposite history jo^ ELOCUTION. is recorded. What wreck so shocking to behold as the wreck of a dissolute man ; — the vigor of life exhausted, and yet the first steps in an honorable career not taken; in himself a lazar- house of diseases; dead, but, by a heathenish custon of so- ciety, not buried ! Rogues have had the initial letter of their title burnt into the palms of their hands ; even for murder Cain was only branded on the forhead ; but over the whole person of the debauchee or the inebriate, the signatures of in- famy are written. How nature brands him with stigma and opprobrium ! How she hangs labels all over him, to testify her disgust at his existence, and to admonish others to beware of his example } How she loosens all his joints, sends tremors along his muscles, and bends forward his frame, as if to bring him on all fours with kindred brutes, or to degrade him to the reptile's crawling ! How she disfigures his countenance, as if intent upon obliterating all traces of her own image, so that she may swear that she never made him ! How she pours rheum over his eyes, sends foul spirits to inhabit his breath, and shrieks, as with a trumpet, from every pore of his body, " Be- hold A Beast!" Such a man may be seen In the streets o our cities every day; if rich enough, he may be found in the saloons, and at the tables of the " Upper Ten ;" but surely, to every man of purity and honor, to every man whose heart is unblemished, the wretch who comes cropped and bleeding from the pillory, and redolent with the appropriate perfumes, would be a guest or a companion far less offensive and disgusting. Now let the young man, rejoicing in his manly proportions, and in his comeliness, look on this picture, and then on this, and then say, after the likeness of which model he intends his own erect stature and sublime countenance shall be confisrured. X XXI v . THE POLISH BOY. MRS. ANN. S. STEPHENS Whence came those shrieks, so wild and shrill, That like an arrow cleave the air, SEL"ECT10NS. , ^ ^ Causing the blood to creep and thrill With such sharp cadence of despair ? Once more they come ! as if a heart Were cleft in twain by one quick blo-\v, And every string had voice apart To utter its peculiar woe ! Whence came they ? From yon temple, where An altar raised for private prayer Now forms the warrior's marble bed, Who Warsaw's gallant armies led. The dim funereal tapers throw A holy lustre o'er liis brow, And burnish with their rays of light The mass of curls that gather bright Above the haughty brow and eye Of a young boy that's kneeling by. What hand is that whose icy press Clings to the dead with death's own grasp, But meets no answering caress — No thrilling fingers seek its clasp ? It is the hand of her whose cry Rang wildly late upon the air, AVhen the dead warrior met her eye, Outstretched upon the altar there. Now with white lips and broken moan She sinks beside the altar stone ; But hark ! the heavy tramp of feet. Is heard along the gloomy street ; Nearer and nearer yet they come, With clanking arms and noiseless drum. They leave the pavement. Flowers that spread Their beauties by the path they tread Are crushed and broken. Crimson hands Rend brutally their blooming bands. Now whispered curses, low and deep, Around tKe holy temple creep. The gate is burst. A ruffian band Rush in and saVagely demand, With brutal voice and oath profane, The startled boy for exile's chain. The mother sprang with gesture wild, And to her bosom snatched the child : 138 ELOCUTION. Then with pale cheek and flashing eye, Shouted with fearful energy, — " Back, ruffians, back ! nor dare to tread Too near the body of my dead I Nor touch the living boy — I stand Between him and your lawless band ! No traitor he — but listen ! I Have cursed your master's tyranny. I cheered my lord to join the band Of those who swore to free our land. Or fighting, die ; and when he pressed Me for the last time to his breast, I knew that soon his form would be Low as it is, or Poland free. He went and grappled with the foe, Laid many a haughty Russian low ; But he is dead — the good — the brave — And I, his wife, am worse — a slave ! Take me, and bind these arms, these hands, "With Russia's heaviest iron bands, And drag me to Siberia's wild To perish, if 'twill save my child !" " Peace, woman, peace !" the leader cried, Tearing the pale boy from her side ; And in his ruffian grasp he bore His victim to the temple door. " One moment !" shrieked the mother, " one ; Can land or gold redeem my son ? If so, I bend my Polish knee, And, Russia, ask a boon of thee. Take palaces, take lands, take all, But leave him free from Russian thrall. Take these," and her white arms and hands She stripped of rings and diamond bands. And tore from braids of long black hair The gems that gleamed like star-light there j Unclasped the brilliant coronal And carcanet of orient pearl ; Her cross of blazing rubies last Down to the Russian's feet she cast. He stooped to seize the glittering store ; Upspringing from the marble floor ; The mother, with a cry of joy, SELLCTIONS. t o^ Snatched to her leaping heart the boy ! But no — the Russian's iron grasp Again undid the mother's clasp. Forward she fell, with one long cry Of more than mother's agony. But the brave child is roused at length, And breaking from the Russian's hold, He stands, a giant in the strength Of his young spirit, fierce and bold. Proudly he towers, his flashing eye, So blue and fiercely bright. Seems lighted from the eternal sky. So brilliant is its light. His curling lips and crimson cheeks Foretell the thought before he speaks. With a full voice of proud command He turns upon the wondering band. " Ye hold me not ! no, no, nor can ; This hour has made the boy a man. The world shall witness that one soul Fears not to prove itself a Pole. I knelt beside my slaughtered sire. Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire; I wept upon his marble brow — Yes, wept — I was a child ; but now My noble mother on her knee. Has done the work of years for me. iVlthough in this small tenement My soul is cramped — unbowed, unbent, Pve still within me ample power To free myself this very hour. This dagger in my heart ! and then, Where is your boasted power, base men :" He drew aside his broidered vest, And there, like slumbering serpent's crest, The jewelled haft of a poniard bright. Glittered a moment on the sight. " Ha ! start ye back? Fool ! coward ! knave ! Think ye my noble father's glave. Could drink the life blood of a slave ? The pearls that on the handle flame. Would blush to rubies in their shame. ^-i^ I40 ELOCUTION. The blade would quiver in thy breast, Ashamed of su-ch ignoble rest ! No ; thus I rend thy tyrant's chain, And fling him back a boy's disdain !" A moment, and the funeral light Flashed on the jewelled weapon bright ; Another, and his young heart's blood Leaped to the floor a crimson flood. Quick to his mother's side he sprang, And on the air his clear voice rang — ■ " Up, mother, up ! I'm free ! I'm free ! The choice was death or slavery ; Up ! mother, up ! look on my face I only wait for thy embrace. One last, last word — a blessing, one, To prove thou knowest what I have done, No look ! No word ! Canst thou not feel My warm blood o'er thy heart congeal ? Speak, mother, speak — lift up thy head. What, silent still ? Then art thou dead ! Great God, I thank thee ! Mother, I Rejoice with thee, and thus to die." Slowly he falls. The clustering hair Rolls back and leaves that forehead bare. One long, deep breath, and his pale head Lay on his mother's bosom, dead. DARE AND DO. Upward, — onward ' Fellow workmen ! Ours the battle-field of life ; Ne'er a foot to foeman yielding, Pressing closer midst the strife ! Forward ! in the strength of manhood, — Forward ! in the fire of youth, — Aim at something ; ne'er surrender, — Arm thee in the mail of truth ! Though thy way be strewn with dangers, Summer rain-drops lay the dust ; Faith and hope are two-edged weapons SELECTIONS. Which will ne'er belie thy trust. Shrink not, though a host surround thee, — Onward ! Duty's path pursue ; All who gild the page of story, Know the brave words — Dare and do ! Miller was a rough stone-mason ; Shakespeare, Goldsmith, Keats, and Hood, Franklin, Jerrold, Burns, and Giftbrd, Had to toil as we, for food. Yes : these men with minds majestic, Sprang from ranks the rich call poor, Cast a halo round brown labor, — Had to wrestle, fight, endure. Forward, then ! bright eyes are beaming ; Fight, nor lose the conqueror's crown ! Stretch thy right hand, seize thy birthright, Take it, wear it, 'tis thine own ! Slay the giants which beset thee, Rise to manhood, glory, fame ; Take thy pen, and in the volume Of the gifted write thy name ! THE PERSONAL CHARACTER OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. REV. C. H. FOWLER — APRIL, 1S65. I Stand to-day in the shadow of the coffin of Abraham Lin- coln. What best can I say concerning his character.? The analysis of his character is difficult on account of its symmetry ; its comprehension is impossible, on account of its greatness. The foundation upon which this character was built was his moral sense, coming out in absolute truthfulness. This gave him marvelous moral uprightness, kept him unseduced by the temptations of his profession, untainted by the corruptions of pohtics, and unblamable in public administration. The ruling, all-controlling characteristic of his mind was his accurate, mas- sive, iron-armed reason. Every element of his being, even his J ^2 ELOCUTION. passion and compassion, and every act of his life was in most rigid submission to his moral sense and reason. He arrived at his conclusions not by intuition, but by argument. This made him appear slow in difficult questions, but it gave him all the certainty of logic. Once arrived at a decision, he could not be moved from it. His mental constitution and habits of thought underlaid his felt consciousness of honor. This made inevit- able that firmness which was more than equal to every emergen- cy, and which has so amazed the world. His imaginative and speculative faculties were of great native strength ; but they were so subjected to his reason that they only served to suggest causes of action in unprecedented difficulties, and illustrate by condensed, incarnated argument the correctness of his position. His caution, that might have been a fault, was balanced by the certainty of his reason, and produced only a wise prudence. His whole character was rounded out into remarkable practical common sense. Thus his moral sense, his reason, and his com- mon sense were the three fixed points through which the perfect circle of his character was drawn, the sacred trinity of his great manhood. He incarnated the ideal Republic, and was the liv- ing personification of the divine idea of free government. No other man ever so fully realized the people's idea of a ruler. He was our President — the great Commander. The classics of the schools might have . polished him, but they would have separated him from us. A child of the people, he was as ac- cessible in the splendors of the White House as in the lowly cabin. He stands before us as no man ever stood, the embodi- ment of the people. Coming among us. President in troublous times, the grasp, the accuracy, the activity of his intellect soon placed him at the head of the world's statesmen. He rallied about him the strong men of the land and showed them he was their master. Everywhere he controlled men according to his purpose. Once arrived at a decision he was there forever. He was firm because he knew he was right. He put men up or down regardless of their popularity. Congress had always de- ferred to his judgment, and the end in every event justified his decisions. As a statesman he was without a peer in the world or in history. SELECTIONS. -. .^ His goodness is said to have made him weak. It was the highest exhibition of his strength. He was mercy mailed in justice. He was the most magnanimous man of the time. Yesterday he said of inevitable defeat, " I am responsible." To-day he said of triumph, " The glory is not mine." He was the noblest man that ever came in the tide of time. XXXVII. THE AMERICAN UNION. KOSSUTH. He who sows the wind will reap the storm. History is the revelation of Providence. The Almighty rules, by eternal laws, not only the material but the moral world ; and every law is a principle, and every principle is a law. Men, as well as nations, are endowed with free will to choose a principle, but that once chosen, the consequences must be abided. With self-govern- ment is freedom, and with freedom is justice and patriotism. With centralization is ambition, and with ambition dwells des- potism. Happy your great country, sir, for being so warmly addicted to that great principle of self-government. Upon this foundation your fathers raised a home to freedom more glori- ous than the world has ever seen. Upon this foundation you have developed it to a living wonder of the world. Happy your great country, sir, that it was selected, by the blessing of the Lord, to prove the glorious practicability of a federative union of many sovereign states, all conserving their state .rights and their self-government, and yet united in one — every star beam- ing with its own lustre, but altogether one constellation on man- kind's canopy. Upon this foundation your free country has grown to a pro- digious power in a surprisingly brief period. You have attracted power, in that your fundamental principles have conquered more in seventy-five years than Rome by arms in centuries. Your principles will conquer the world. By the glorious ex- T . . ELOCUTION. 144 ample of your freedom, welfare, and security, mankind is about to become conscious of its aim. The lesson you give to hu- manity will not be lost ; and the respect of the state rights in the federal government of America, and in its several states, will become an instructive example for universal toleration, for- bearance, and justice, to the future states and republics of Europe. Upon this basis will be got rid of the mysterious ques- tion of language and nationalities, raised by the cunning des- potisms in Europe to murder liberty ; and the smaller states will find security in the principles of federative union, while they will conserve their national freedom by the principles of sover- eign self-government; and while larger states, abdicating the principle of centralization, will cease to be a blood-field to sanguinary usurpation, and a tool to the ambition of wicked men, municipal institutions will insure the development of local particular elements. Freedom, formerly an abstract political theory, will become the household benefit to municipalities ; and out of the welfare and contentment of all parts will flow happiness, peace, and security of the whole. That is my con- fident hope. Then will at once subside the fluctuations of Germany's fate. XXXVIII. A VERY IMPORTANT PROCEEDING, — MR. PICKWICK. Mr. Pickwick's apartments in Goswell street, although on a limited scale, were not only of a very neat and comfortable de- scription, but peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius and observation. His sitting-room was the first floor front, his bed-room was the second floor front ; and thus, whether he was sitting at his desk in the parlor, or standing be- fore the dressing-glass in his dormitory, he had an equal op- portunity of contemplating human nature in all the numerous phases it exhibits, in that not more populous than popular SELECTIONS. -r ^ r- H5 thoroughfare. His landlady, Mrs. Bardell — the relict and sole executrix of a deceased custom-house officer — was a comely woman of bustling manners and agreeable appearance, with a natural genius for cooking, improved by study and long prac- tice into an exquisite talent. There were no children, no ser- vants, no fowls. The only other inmates of the house were a large man and a small boy ; the first a lodger, the second a pro- duction of Mrs. Bardell's. The large man was always at home precisely at ten o'clock at night, at which hour he regularly condensed himself into the limits of a dwarfish French bedstead in the back parlor; and the infantine sports and gymnastic exercises of Master Bardell were exclusively confined to the neighboring pavements and gutters. Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the house ; and in it Mr. Pickwick's will was law. To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic economy of the establishment, and conversant with the admir- able regulation of Mr. Pickwick's mind, his appearance and be- havior on the morning previous to that which had been fixed upon for the journey to Eatanswill, would have been most mys- terious and unaccountable. He paced the room to and fro with hurried steps, popped his head out of the window at inter- vals of about three minutes each, constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many other manifestations of impatience, very unusual with him. It was evident that something of great importance was in contemplation, but what that something was, not even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to discover. " Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick, at last, as that amiable female approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apartment. "Sir," said Mrs. Bardell. " Your little boy is a very long time gone." "Why, it is a good long way to the Borough, sir," reniun- strated Mrs. Bardell. " Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, "very true; so it is." Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and ]Mrs. Bardell resumed her dusting, J ^5 ELOCUTION. '' Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few minutes. " Sir," said Mrs. Bardell again. "Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people, than to keep one.'*" " La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, coloring up to the very border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matri- monial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger; "La, Mr. Pickwick, what a question !" " Well, but do you ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "That depends" — said Mrs. Bardell, approaching the duster very near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table ; " that depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and whether it's a saving and careful person, sir." " That's very true," said Mr. Pickwick, " but the person I have in my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses these qualities ; and has, moreover, a considerable knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell-; which may be of material use to me." "La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, the crimson rising to her cap-border again. " I do," said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic, as was his wont in speaking of a subject which interested him, " I do, indeed; and to tell you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind." " Dear me, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell. "You'll think it very strange now," said the amiable Mr. Pickwick, with a good-humored glance at his comi^anion, " that I never consulted you about this matter, and never even men- tioned it, till I sent your little boy out this morning — eh ?" Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long wor- shiped Mr. Pickwick at a distance, but here she was, all at once, raised to a pinnacle to which her wildest and most extravagant hopes had never dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was going to propose — a deliberate plan, too — sent her little boy to the Borough; to get him out of the v/ay — how thoughtful — how considerate ! "Well," said Mr. Pickwick, "what do you think.?" SELECTIONS. ^ .^ " Oh, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agi- tation, "you're very kind, sir." "It'll save you a good deal of trouble, won't it.?" said Mr. Pickwick. " Oh, I never thought anything of the trouble, sir," replied Mrs. Bardell ; " and of course, I should take more trouble to please you then than ever ; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pick- wick, to have so much consideration for my loneliness." "Ah to be sure," said Mr. Pickwick; "I never thought of that. When I am in town, you'll always have somebody to sit with you. To be sure, so you will." " I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman," said Mrs. Bardell. "And your little boy — " said Mr. Pickwick. " Bless his heart," interposed Mrs. Bardell, with a maternal sob. " He, too, will have a companion," resumed Mr. Pickwick, " a lively one, who'll teach him, I'll be bound, more tricks in a week, than he would ever learn in a year." And Mr„ Pickwick smiled placidly. "Oh, you dear — ■" said Mrs. Bardell. Mr. Pickwick started. "Oh you kind, good, playful dear," said Mrs. Bardell; and without more ado she rose from her chair, and flung her arms round Mr. Pickwick's neck, with a cataract of tears, and a chorus of sobs. " Bless my soul," cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick ; — " Mrs. Bardell, my good woman — dear me, what a situation — pray consider, Mrs. Bardell, don't — if anybody should come — " "Oh, let them come," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, frantically; " I'll never leave you — dear, kind, good soul ;" and, with these words, Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter. "Mercy upon me," said Mr. Pickwick, straggling violently, " I hear somebody coming up the stairs. Don't, don't, there's a good creature, don't." But entreaty and remonstrance were alike unavailing; for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pick- wick's arms ; and before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair, Master Bardell entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tup- man, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. .o ELOCUTION. Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless and speechless. He stood with his lovely burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the coun- tenances of his friends, without the slightest attempt at recog- nition or explanation. They, in their turn, stared at him ; and Master Bardell, in his turn, stared at everybody. The astonishment of the Pickwickians was so absorbing, and the perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might have remained in exactly the same relative situations until the suspended animation of the lady was restored, had it not been for a most beautiful and touching expression of filial affec- on the part of her youthful son. Clad in a tight suit of corduroy, spangled with brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first stood at the door astounded and uncertain ; but by degrees, the impression that his mother must have suffered some personal damage, pervaded his partially developed mind, and considering Mr. Pickwick the aggressor, he set up an ap- palling and semi-earthly kind of howling, and butting forward with his head, commenced assailing that immortal gentleman about the back and legs, with such blows and pinches as the strength of his arm, and the violence of his excitement al- lowed. " Take this little villain away," said the agonized Mr. Pick- wick, "he's mad." "What is the matter.?" said the three tongue-tied Pickwick- ians. " I don't know," replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. " Take away the boy — (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, scream- ing and struggling, to the farther end of the apartment.) Now help me to lead this woman down stairs." "Oh, I am better now," said Mrs. Bardell, faintly. " Let me lead you down stairs," said the ever gallant Mr. Tupman. " Thank you, sir — thank you ;" exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, hys- terically. And down stairs she was led acconlingly, ac- companied by her affectionate son. " I can not conceive" ^ — said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend re- turned — "I can not conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of SELECTIONS. jj^ keeping a man-servant, when yhe fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing." '• Very," said his three friends. ''Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation," con- tinued Mr. Pickwick. '"Very;" was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other. This behavior was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him. " There is a man in the passage, now," said Mr. Tupman. " It's the man that I spoke to you about," said 2^Ir. Pickwick. " I sent for him to the Borough this morning. Have the good- ness to call him up, Snodgrass." '^ETERNAL JUSTICE. CHARLES MACKAY. " The man is thought a knave or fool, Or bigot, plotting crime. Who, for the advancement of his kind, Is wiser than his time. For him the hemlock shall distil ; For him the axe be bared ; For him the gibbet shall be built ; For him the stake prepared : Him shall the scorn and wrath of men Pursue ^^ith deadly aim ; And malice, en\y, spite, and lies. Shall desecrate his name. But truth shall conquer at the last. For round and round we run. And ever the right comes uppermost. And ever is justice done. *' Pace through thy cell, old Socrates, Cheerily to and fro ; Trust to the impulse of thy soul 15° ELOCUTION. And let the poison flov^. They may shatter to earth the lamp of clay That holds a light divine, But they can not quench the fire of thought By any such deadly wine ; They can not blot thy spoken words From the memory of man, By all the poison ever was brewed Since time its course began. To-day abhorred, to-morrow adored, So round and round we run, And ever the truth comes uppermost, And ever is justice done. " Plod in thy cave, gray Anchorite ; Be wiser than thy peers : Augment the range of human power And trust to coming years. They may call thee wizard, and monk accursed,. And load thee with dispraise : Thou wert born five hundred years too soon For the comfort of thy days : But not too soon for human kind : Time hath reward in store ; And the demons of our sires become The saints that we adore. The blind can see, the slave is lord ; So round and round we run ; And ever the wrong is proved to be wrong, And ever is justice done. " Keep, Galileo, to thy thought, And nerve thy soul to bear ! They may gloat o'er the senseless words they wring. From the pangs of thy despair : They may veil their eyes, but they can not hide The sun's meridian glow ; The heel of a priest may tread thee down, And a tyrant work thee woe ; But never a truth has been destroyed : They may curse and call it crime ; Pervert and betray, or slander and slay Its teachers for a time. But the sunshine aye shall light the sky, As round and round we run ; SELECTIONS. And the truth shall ever come uppermost. And justice shall be done. " And live there now such men as these — With thoughts like the great of old? Many have died m their misery, And left their thought untold ; And many live and are ranked as mad, And placed in the cold world's ban. For sending their bright, far-seeing souls Three centuries in the van. They toil in penury and grief. Unknown, if not maligned ; Forlorn, forlorn, bearing the scorn Of the meanest of mankind. But yet the world goes round and round, And the genial seasons run. And ever the truth comes uppermost, And ever is iustice done. 151 XL. AGAINST CURTAILING THE RIGHT OF SUFFRAGE. VICTOR HUGO. Gentlemen : — I address the men who govern us, and say to them, — Go on, cut off three millions of voters ; cut off eight out of nine, and the result will be the same to you, if it be not more decisive. What you do not cut off is your own fault ; the ab- surdities of your policy of compression, your fatal incapacity, your ignorance of the present epoch, the antipathy you feel for it, and that It feels for you ; what you will not cut off is the times which are advancing, the hour now striking, the ascend- ing moveme?it of ideas, the gulf opening broader and deeper between yourself and the age, between the young generation and you, between the spirit of liberty and you, between the spirit of philosophy and you. What you will not cut off is this immense fact, that the nation goes to one side, while you go to the other ; that what for you is the sunrise is for it the sun's setting ; that you turn your backs to j^^ ELOCUTION. the future, while this great people of France, its front all radiant with light from the rising dawn of a new humanity, turns its back to the past. Gentlemen, this law is invalid ; it is null ; it is dead even before it exists. And do you know what has killed it ? It is that, when it meanly approaches to steal the vote from the pocket of the poor and feeble, it meets the keen, terrible eye of the national probity, a devouring light, in which the work of darkness dis- appears. Yes, men who govern us, at the bottom of every citizen's con- science, the most obscure as well as the greatest, at the very depths of the soul, (I use your own expressions,) of the last beg- gar, the last vagabond, there is a sentiment, sublime, sacred, insurmountable, indestructable, eternal, — the sentiment of right ! This sentiment, which is the very essence of the human conscience, which the Scriptures call the corner-stone of justice, is the rock on which iniquities, hypocrisies, bad laws, evil de- signs, bad governments, fall, and are shipwrecked. This is the hidden, irresistible obstacle, veiled in the recesses of every mind, but ever present, ever active, on which you will always exhaust yourselves ; and which, whatever you do, you will never de- stroy. I warn you, your labor is lost ; you will not extinguish it, you will not confuse it. Far easier to drag the rock from the bottom of the sea, than the sentiment of right from the heart of the people ! IRELAND. T. F. MEAGHER. I do not despair of my poor old country, her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up ; to make her a benefactor instead of being the meanest beggar in the world ; to restore to her her native powers and her ancient constitution ; this has been my am- bition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by the SELECTIONS. j^^ law of England, I know this crime entails the penalty of death, but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history I am no criminal ; you are no criminal ; I deserve no punishment ; we deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt ; is sanctified as a duty ; will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of the court ; having done what I felt to be my duty ; having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other oc- casion of my short career. I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death ; the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies, whose factions I have sought to still ; whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim ; whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, the life of a young heart ; and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endearments of an honorable home. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the law directs, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and a perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal — a tribunal where a judge of infinite goodness, as well as of justice, will preside, and where, my lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be reversed. HOME AND SCHOOL INFLUENCE ESPECIALLY NECESSARY IN TIME OF WAR. J. M. GREGORY — 1862. The grand march of humanity stops not in its course even for war. From the cradle to the coffin, the crowding columns move on with lock-step through the successive stages of life. Childhood can not halt in its progress for returning peace to afford leisure for education. On into the years — to manhood, to citizenship, to ^ - . ELOCUTION. destiny — it rushes, whether lettrning lights its path and guides its steps, or ignorance involves it in error and conducts it head- long into vice. And if in peace the school is needful to rear our children to an intelligent and virtuous manhood, how much greater the need when war, with its inseparable barbarism, is drifting the nation from its onward course of peaceful civili- zation, back to the old realms of darkness and brute force. The high and heroic aims of this conflict will doubtless miti- gate the evils which necessarily attend an appeal to arms. To say nothing of the physical health and prowess that camp life and military discipline will develop, the love of country and love of liberty will rise again from mere holiday sentiments to the grandeur and power of national passions, and the Union, made doubly precious by the blood which its maintenance will cost, will attain a strength that no mortal force can shake or de- stroy. History will grow heroic again, and humanity itself will be inspired and glorified with this fresh vindication of its God- given rights and duties, in this new incarnation and triumph of the principles of Constitutional and Republican liberty. The too absorbing love of money, which has hitherto characterized us, has loosened somewhat its clutch, and been won to acts of genuine benevolence, at the sight of an imperiled country ; and the fiery demon of party spirit slinks away abashed before the roused patriotism which lays life itself on the altar of liberty. But with all this, the barbarisms of war are too palpable and terrific to be forgotten or disregarded, and the wise and patriotic statesman will find in them a more urgent reason for fostering those civilizing agencies which nourish the growing intelligence and virtue of the people. Against the ideas and vices en- gendered in the camps, and amidst the battle-fields, we must raise still higher the bulwarks of virtuous habits and beliefs, in the children yet at home. We need the utmost stretch of home and school influence to save society and the State from the terrible domination of military ideas and military forces, always so dangerous to civil liberty and free government. SELECTIONS. , CORDIAL SUBMISSION TO LAWFUL AUTHORITY A PRLAIARY ATTRIBUTE OF GOOD CITIZENSHIP. NEWTON BATEMAX. Obedience is the law of God's universe ; the inexorable decree of his providence. And evermore in the back-ground of his love and mercy to the docile and penitent, hangs the cloud of destruction to the incorrigibly guilty. Retribution waits upon invitation. Behind all Jehovah's dealings with angels, men and devils, there lingers an immutable, inexorable, eternal, must. Obey and live, refuse and perish, is the epitome of God's natural and spiritual economy. It rules in the moral and ma- terial worlds ; in the destinies of individuals, of nations, and of the race. The unsupported body falls is the lesson slowly and gently taught in the nursery, as the little child steps falteringly from father to mother, from chair to chair. Once learned, the law must be obeyed — death lurks at every precipice. Thus one by one, kindly, imperceptibly almost, God teaches us his physical laws, and ever after, by sea and land, through all the realms of nature, the inexorable decree, ''obey or die,'' attends our foot- steps. It is heard in the howl of the tempest, in the thunders of Niagara — it speaks to us in the earthquake and the ava- lanche—its fiery letters gleam in the storm-cloud, it sounds forth from the caverns and smoke of Vesuvius. We can not escape from this omnipresent, eternal must, in the natural world. IL is God's tremendous barrier, erected every- where, to turn us from destruction — erected not in anger, but in love. It is inexorable, because else it would cease to be ef- fective. Some must perish that many may live. We must obey the laws of health; the penalty of taking poison is death — the penalty of breathing foul air, sooner or later is death — the pen- alty of intemperance is misery, decay and death. The same unchangeable decree follows us in the moral world. We must obey the moral law, or si/ffer — physically as well as mentally. Here, too, God has no scruples about enforcing his commands by the ordeal of pain. He does not stop with jr^ ELOCUTION. "moral suasion" merely — hs not only pleads with divine tenderness, but he chastises with divine uncompromising firm- ness and severity. Sin and su-ffering are indissoluble. In the cup of every forbidden pleasure there lurks a viper, which sooner or later will sting soul and body to death. No tortures of the body can compare with the agonies of the spirit, but in due time, for every infraction of the moral code, the former are superadded to the latter. "■ Thou shalt not kilV is the sententious decree which epitomizes the divine regard for human life. Not — " It is not best to be a murderer — It is not right —you will be far happier if you do not — you should respect the rights and happiness of others — do not, I beseech you, do not be a murderer" — but, ringing through the earth, the terse mandate of God falls loud and clear upon the race, " Thou shalt not." And who can de- pict the terrors that gather about and haunt the guilty wretch who violates the prohibition — goad and haunt him to his dying hour, even if swift destruction does not overtake him at the hands of the law. A fugitive and a vagabond, pursued through the earth by the sleepless and relentless Nemesis of vengeance, scourged by the scorpion lash of conscience, pale and wasted and haggard, he drags himself onward to a premature grave, or invokes the suicide's doom. Thus does the everlasting must confront the transgressor at every turn. And as it is with individuals, so it is with nations. The track of centuries is strewn with the memorials of Jehovah's tremen- dous judgments upon States and Empires that would not obey his law. " The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the NATIONS that forget God," is the record which six thousand years have confirmed. " The mills of the gods grind slowly," hut sooner or later retribution, resistless and appalling, closes the career of national injustice and wrong. So it has been in the past, so it is now, and so it will ever be. Mercy, forbear- ance, entreaty, persuasion, are tried first — the light of reason, the warnings of experience, the monitions of Providence are given to avert the impending blow. Truth and virtue, justice and freedom, are inscribed upon the banners beneath which the God of History would lead liie nations to the millennial day. SELECTIONS. j-w THE VAGABONDS. We are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog. — -Come here, you scamp ! Jump for the gentlemen, — mind your eye ! Over the table, — look out for the lamp ! — • The rogue is growing a little old ; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank — and starved — together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you ! A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, A fire to thaw our thumbs, (poor fellow I 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 ! No, thank ye, sir, — I never drink ; Roger and I are exceedingly moral — Are n't we, Roger? — See him wink I — 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 ! lie 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, 1 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, Ar«d rags that smell of tobacco and gin, He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There is n't another creature living Would do it, and prove, through ever}' 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 1 it makes my old eyes water ! iS8 ELOCUTION. 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 I Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your officer ! Put up that paw ! Dress ! Take your rifle ! (Some dogs have arms, you see !j Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle, To aid a poor, old, patriot soldier ! March 1 Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes, When 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, — m.y brain is going ! — Some brandy, — thank you, — there ! — it passes ! Why not reform ? That's easily said ; But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread. And scarce remembering what meat meant, That my poor stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think ? At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love, — but I took to drink ; — The same old story ; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features, — You need n'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 song I sung When the wine went round, you would n't have guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog ! SELECTIONS. She's married since, — a parson's wife : 'T was 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 a dusty road : a carriage stopped But little she dreamed, as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped ! A'ou'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 ! 'T was well she died before — Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see The ruin and wretchedness here below ? Another glass, and strong to deaden This pain ; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden, Aching thing, in place of a heart ? He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could, No doubt, remembering things that were, — A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food, And himself a sober, respectable cur. I'm better now ; that glass was warming. — You rascal ! limber your lazy feet ! We must be fiddling and performing For supper and bed, or starve in the street. — Not a very 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 ! 159 X L ^■ . MY MOTHER. BELLE BUSH. My mother's a beautiful spirit, and her home is the Holy Evangel's ; There she feels neither sorrow nor pain, and treads not the path of the weary. Years ago, in the bud of my being, I knew her a radiant mortal, i6o ELOCUTION. But the house of her soul decayed, and she fled from the crumbling mansion. And over the sea of eternity, bridged by the hands of angels, Uniting the links of belief with the golden chain of repentance, She passed, with the torch of prayer, to the opposite shore in safety. When, crowned with the garlands of love, she mounted the steps of the city, And the angels of Mercy and Truth, keeping watch at the heavenly portals. Beheld her approach from afar, and flung open the pearly partitions ; With song and loud hallelujahs they welcomed the earth-ransomed stranger. And guided her steps, till she stood on the brink of the Life-giving fountain, W^here, tasting its Lethean waters, all the joys of the world were forgotten. Save the beautiful bloom of the soul — the love in the heart of the mother. This, the light of her life upon earth, now budded and blossomed in heaven , Stately and fair it towered, and the hue of its leaves was immortal. Strong tendrils grew out from each bough, and twined round the chords of her spirit. While the zephyrs of Paradise played and toyed ^vith the delicate branches. Till- each leaf like a harp-string swayed, and murmured in strains yEoiian, And oft with their musical numbers reminded the wondering mother Of the flowers she had left in the desert — her weary and sorrowing children. In their half-open leaflets she reads the pledge of her glorious mission, And rejoiced that her love should gather those earthly buds to her bosom. The angels beheld her in gladness rise np on those radiant pinions Which float on the air like a sunbeam, and rival the dove in their fleetness. Oh, my mother's a beautiful spirit, and her home is the holy Evangel's ; But she comes on her soft floating pinions to look for her earth-bound children. She comes, and the hearts that were weary no longer remember their sorrow In their joy that the lost is returned, our beloved and radiant mother ! She comes, and our spirits rejoice, for we know she's our guardian angel. O'er our journey in life keeping watch, and giving us gentle caresses. She comes, she comes with the light that opens the gate of the morning. Her robes are of delicate pink, — sweet emblem of holy affection, — And her voice is our music by night, of perils and storms giving warning, And twined o'er her radiant brow are the amaranth-blossoms of heaven. She smiles, and the light of her smiles bringeth joy in our seasons of dark- ness ; She whispers, and soft are the zephyrs that echo her musical numbers, As they waft o'er the chords of our being her thrilling and fervent emotions. We listen to her in our sorrow, and yield to each gentle impression. Till pleasant co us is the path leading down to the rushing river ; O'er the swift-rolling current of death we shall pass to the homes of the spirits, And, waiting beside the still waters, our mother will be there to greet us ; SELECTIONS. , z; ^ lOI With songs she will welcome our coming, and fold us to rest on her bosom, And teach us, like lisping children, to murmur the language of heaven ! , Oh, my mother's a beautiful spirit, and her home is the holy Evangel's ; But she comes on the pinions of love to watch her sorrowing children. She comes, and the shadows depart, as we thrill to her gentle caresses. Our Father in Heaven, we bless thee, that our mother's our Guardian Angel ! WAITING BY THE GATE. WILLIAM C. BRYANT. Beside a massive gateway built up in years gone by, Upon whose tops the clouds in eternal shadows lie, While streams the evening sunshine on quiet wood and lea, I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me. The tree-tops faintly rustle beneath the breeze's flight, A soft and soothing sound, yet it whispers of the night ; I hear the woodthrush piping one mellow descant more. And scent the flowers that blow when the heat of day is o'er. Behold, the portals open, and o'er the threshold now There steps a weary one with a pale and furrowed brow ; His count of years is full, his allotted task is wrought ; He passes to his rest from a place that needs him not. In sadness then I ponder how quickly fleets the hour Of human strength and action, man's courage and his power. I muse while still the woodthrush sings down the golden day, And as I look and listen the sadness wears away. Again the hinges turn, and a youth, departing, throws A look of longing backward, and sorrowfully goes ; A blooming maid, unbinding the roses from her hair. Moves mournfully away from amidst the young and fair. O glory of our race, that so suddenly decays ! O crimson flush of morning, that darkens as we gaze ! O breath of summer flowers, that on the restless air Scatters a moment's sweetness, and flies we know not where ! l62 ELOCUTION. I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn; But still the sun shines round me ; the evening birds sing on, And I again am soothed, and, beside the ancient gate. In this soft, evening twilight, I calmly stand and wait. Once more the gates are opened ; an infant group goes out, The sweet smile quenched forever, and stilled the sprightly shout, frail, frail tree of Life, that upon the greensward strows Its fair, young buds unopened, with every wind that blows ! So come from every region, so enter, side by side, The strong and faint of spirit, the meek, and men of pride ; Steps of earth's great and mighty, between those pillows gray. And prints of little feet, mark the dust along the way. And some approach the threshold whose looks are blank with fear. And some whose temples brighten with joy in drawing near. As if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye Of Him, the Sinless Teacher, who came for us to die. 1 mark the joy, the terror ; yet these, within my heart, Can neither make the dread nor the longing to depart ; And in the sunshine streaming on quiet wood and lea, I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me. XLVII. THY WILL BE DONE. J. G. WHITTIER. We see not, know not ; all our way Is night, — with Thee alone is day : From out the torrent's troubled drift. Above the storm our prayers we lift. Thy will be done ! The flesh may fail, the heart may faint. But who are we to make complaint. Or dare to plead, m times like these, The weakness of our love of ease ? Thy will be done ! We take with solemn thankfulness Our burden up, nor ask it less, And count it joy that even we SELECTIONS. May suffer, serve, or wait for thee, Whose will be done ! Though dim as yet in tint and line. We trace thy picture's wise design, And thank thee that our age supplies Its dark relief of sacrifice. Thy will be done ! And if, in our unworthiness. Thy sacrificial wine we press. If from thy ordeal's heated bars Our feet are seamed with crimson scars, Thy will be done ! If, for the age to come, this hour Of trial hath vicarious power. And, blest by thee, our present pain Be Liberty's eternal gain. Thy will be done ! Strike, thou, the Master, we thy keys. The anthem of the destinies : The minor of thy loftier strain. Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done ! 163 XL VIII. TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. GERALD MASSEY. High hopes that burned like stars sublime, Go down the heavens of Freedom ; And true hearts perish in the time We bitterliest need 'em. But never sit we down and say There is nothing left but sorrow : We walk the wilderness to-day, — The Promised Land to-morrow. Our birds of song are silent now, — There are no flowers blooming ; Yet life beats in the frozen bough. And Freedom's Spring is coming ! 164 ELOCL.TION. And Freedom's tide comes up always, Though we may strand in sorrow ; And our good bark, aground to-day, Shall float agam to-morrow ! Through all the long, dark night of years, The people's cry ascendeth, And earth is wet with blood and tears ; But our meek sufferance endeth ! The few shall not forever sway, The many wail in sorrow ! The powers of hell are strong to-day, But Christ shall reign to-morrow ! Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes With smiling Futures glisten ! For lo ! our day bursts up the skies ; Lean out your souls, and listen ! The world rolls Freedom's radiant way, And ripens with her sorrow : Keep heart ! who bear the cross to-day. Shall wear the crown to-morrow ! O Youth, flame-earnest, still aspire With energies immortal ! To many a heaven of desire Our yearning opes a portal ! And though age wearies by the way, And hearts break in the furrow, We'll sow the golden grain to-day, — The harvest comes to-morrow ! Build up heroic lives, and all Be like a sheathen sabre, Ready to flash out at God's call, O chivalry of labor ; Triumph and Toil are twins ; and, aye, Joy seems the cloud of sorrow ; And 'tis the martyrdom to-day. Brings victory to-morrow ! SELECTIONS. XLIX. THE GROVES OF BLARNEY. R. A. MILLIKIN. The groves of Blarney they look so charming, Down by the purlings of sweet, silent brooks — All decked by posies, that spontaneous grows there, Planted in order in the rocky nooks. 'T is there the daisy, and the sweet carnation. The blooming pink, and the rose so fair ; Likewise the lily, and the daffodilly — All flowers that scent the sweet, open air. 'T is Lady Jeffers owns this plantation, Like Alexander, or like Helen fair ; There's no commander in all the nation For regulation can with her compare. Such walls surround her, that no nine-pounder Could ever plunder her place of strength ; But Oliver Cromwell, he did her pommel And made a breach in her battlement. There's gravel walks there for speculation. And conversation in sweet solitude ; *T is there the lover may hear the dove, or The gentle plover, in the afternoon. And if a young lady should be so engaging As to walk all alone in those shady bowers, *T is there the courtier he may transport her In some dark fort, or under the ground. For 't is there's the cave where no daylight enters, But bats and badgers are forever bred ; Being mossed by natur', that makes it sweeter Than a coach and six or a feather bed. 'T is there's the lake that is stored with perches, And comely eels in the verdant mud ; Besides the leeches, and the groves of beeches, All standing in order for to guard the flood. 'T is there's the kitchen hangs many a flitch in, With the maids a stitching upon the stair ; The bread and biske'— -the beer and whiskey. Would make you frisky if you were there . 165 J 55 ELOCUTION. 'T is there you'd see Peg Murphy's daughter A washing praties forenent the door, With Roger Cleary, and Father Healy, All blood relations to my Lord Donoughmore. There's statues gracing this noble place in, All heathen goddesses so fair — Bold Neptune, Plutarch, and Nicodemus, All standing naked in the open air. So now to finish this brave narration. Which my poor geni' could not entwine ; But were I Homer, or Nebuchadnezzar, 'T is in every feature I would make it shine. L. OUR SYSTEM OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION SHOULD DISTINCTIVELY INCULCATE A LOVE OF COUNTRY. NEWTON BATEMAN. The true American patriot is ever a worshiper. The starry- symbol of his country's sovereignty is to hint radiant with a di- viner glory than that which meets his mortal vision. It epito- mizes the splendid results of dreary ages of experiments and failures in human government ; and, as he gazes upon its starry- folds undulating responsive to the whispering winds of the upper air, it sometimes seems to his rapt spirit to recede further and fur- ther into the soft blue skies, till the heavens open, and angel hands plant it upon the battlements of Paradise. Wherever that ensign floats, on the sea or on the land, it is to him the very Shekinah of his political love and faith, luminous with the presence of that God who conducted his fathers across the sea and through the fires of the Revolution, to the Pisgah heights of civil and re- ligious liberty. Its stars seem real ; its lines of white symbol the purity of his heroic sires ; those of red, their patriot blood shed in defense of the right. To defend that flag is to him something more than a duty, it is a joy, a coveted privilege, akin to that which nerves the arm and directs the blow in de- SELECTIONS. j^„ fense of wife or child. To insult it is worse than infamy ; to make war upon it, more than treason. A perfect civil government is the sublimest earthly symbol of Deity — indeed, such a government is a transcript of the divine will ; its spirit and principles identical with those with which he governs the universe. Its vigilance, care, and protection, are ubi- quitous — its strong hand is ever ready to raise the fallen, restrain the violent, and punish the aggressor. Its patient ear is bent to catch alike the complaint of the rich and strong, or the poor and weak, while unerring justice presides at the trial and settlement of every issue between man and man. Now, our government is not perfect, even in theory, and still less so in practice ; but it is good and strong and glorious enough to inspire a loftier patriotism than animates the people of any other nation. What element is wanting to evoke the passionate love and admiration of an American citizen for his country ? Is it ancestry ? Men of purer lives, sterner principles, or braver hearts than our fathers, never crossed the sea. Is it motives ? Not for war or conquest, but for civil and religious liberty, did our fathers approach these shores. Is it perils and obstacles ? Wintry storms, and icy coasts, and sterile soils, prowling beasts, and savage men, and hunger, and nakedness, and disease, and death, were the greeting our fathers received. Is it patient en- durance .'' Not till the revelations of the final day, will the dauntless fortitude of our fathers, in the midst of appalling dangers and sufferings, be disclosed. Is it heroic achievement.? Again and again has the haughty Lion of St. George been brought to the dust, and the titled chivalry of England over- thrown by the resistless onset of the sons of liberty, led by "Mr. Washington!" Is it moral sublimity.? Behold Wither- spoon in the Continental Congress; Washington at Valley Forge; Clay in the Senate of 1850. Is it that we have no his- torical Meccas ? Where shall a patriot muse and pray, if not by the shades of Vernon or Ashland — at Marshfield or the Hermitage. Have we no great names to go flaming down the ages ? When will Henry's clarion voice be hushed, or Warren cease to tell men how to die for liberty — when will Adams, and Franklin, and Jefferson fade from history ? Is it consti- ,^o ELOi;UTION. tutional wisdom, excellence oi' laws, or incentives to individual exertion ? No other land can compare with ours in these re- spects. Is it grandeur of scenery? God has made but one Niagara, one Mississippi, one Huds