S ^° • <* */7*s^ A C ^ 0^ v /, %£ 0^ V f * * * ° > "% V * Y * ° /> % - ^ A^ ' -^fA^/h^ ^n A^ ^ ■* '**s^ A° *^**»** s aC> o^ j * x \* 9^ %, <£ ^f £* ^ A^ ^ J * *<> s ^ •, ^ :'- rf*« X & °« • V..^*'*^ 7 ^ "V / % ^ ^ ^ ELOCUTION MADE EASY: CONTAINING $utya and #$taitjm8 for fttlamathm and Statitbtg, FIGURES ELUSTRATIVE OF GESTURE AND VOCAL GYMNASTICS. BY R. p^AGG-ETT, A.M. AUTHOR OF THE AMERICAN EXPOSITOR. STEREOTYPE EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY MOSS, BROTHER & CO. 1859. A * 4 'A Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1845, by PAINE & BURGESS, In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern Dis trict of New York. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1859, by MOSS, BROTHER & CO. in tne Clerk's office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 61' PREFACE In a free country, the cultivation of eloquence is an object of paramount importance to those who aspire to a career of exten- sive usefulness, or honorable distinction. Every year in our country's progress enhances this importance, and furnishes addi- tional reasons for preparing our youth to meet the emergencies of the present and coming times. Questions of vital interest to our religious, civil and social institutions, are agitated with fearful success by the advocates of error ; the demagogue, as well as the educator, is laboring with untiring zeal ; and the question at issue is, which shall gain the ascendency ; whether our free institutions shall be sustained by the conservative power of intelligent patriotism, or undermined by the selfish machina- tions of unscrupulous ambition. To the Common, as well as the High School and the University, we must look for future men who are to advocate and sustain, with all the power of elo- quence, the purity of our public morals, the important interests of learning, and the noble fabric of our civil policy, under which we, as a nation, has thus far flourished and won the admiration of the world. One of the chief glories of our country is, the encouragement given to learning, and the general diffusion of knowledge. But the learning acquired at our schools and col- leges is comparatively of little value, when the study and prac- tice of elocution is neglected. Thousands, "otherwise well edu- cated, are often heard to lament their neglect of this branch, while young, and their consequent inability to utter, in public, those thoughts which they would gladly disseminate, and thereby confer a benefit on society. IV PREFACE. But parents, teachers and guardians of education, are begin- ning to realize not only its importance, but the feasibility of giving it an important place among the branches of common education. Heretofore, although highly appreciated, it has been considered by many, as beyond the aim or reach of our youth, and only to be studied by those whom fortune has enabled to attend our higher seminaries of learning. The author of this Manual has long been convinced that the general neglect of so important and useful a branch of education may be attributed, in part, to the want of books adapted to the use of Common as well as High Schools. There are several excellent works on this subject whose, authors, with rare exceptions, seem to have participated in the general opinion, that Elocution belongs only to the list of branches taught in Academical and Collegiate institutions. But it is now a settled point ,with experienced teachers of this branch, that it may be successfully taught in Common schools, both public and private ; and that an early and thorough training of the vocal organs is the surest, and, in most cases, the only means of securing excellence in reading or speaking. This Manual is offered to the public, with the belief, that it may promote the improvement of the young, in the im- portant branch of which it treats. The plan of the work may be more readily perceived by an inspection of its pages, than by a prefaratory description. Every part, it is believed, is so plain and intelligible, that any competent teacher may readily adopt its plan of instruction. The vocal gymnastics and selections now added to the work will, doubtless, greatly enhance its value, as a text book. The Author. ELOCUTION MADE EASY, CHAPTER I. FIRST LESSON. THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. Question — What are the organs of speech ? Answer — The tongue, the lips, the palate the throat, the roof of the mouth, and the upper teeth. FORMATION OF THE CONSONANTS. Note. — The formation of the vowels is not described, as they may be more readily acquired ( by imitation than verbal description. Every pupil should inhale a full breath, before commencing each line, and should not be allowed to inhale again till every vowel in the line is pronounced. These exercises should be repeated daily, with increas- ing distinctness and force. 1 2 3 4 1 2 1 bale, bar, ball, bat, cede, pen, p 2 1 2 3 12 3 4 pin, note, move, nor, pure, tune, full, sun. io o ouuuu io o ouuuu io o ouuuu Note. — The following consonants may be classed in pairs, and each pair described in the same manner : sh zh th as in thin th as in that ch J J? 5 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Q. — How are p and b formed ? A. — p and b are formed by closing the lips and pressing out the breath, giving p the sound of the breath only, and to b the sound of the voice. Note. — In the following exercises, the teacher or a part of the class should pronounce the part of each word preceding the dash, and the whole class pronounce the elementary sound of the letter above described, never pronouncing the name of the letter ; then the teacher or a part of the class should pronounce the whole word, and the whole class should repeat the word. For instance ; the teacher pronounces dee, then the pupil the elementary sound of p, then the teacher pronounces the word deep and the pupil repeats it. The teacher, at his option, ma} T select other words ending with the same sound. Abbreviated, T. for teacher ; C. for class. t. a dee-p rea-p pee-p hea-p SECOND LESSON. Q. — How are / and v formed ? A — -f and v are formed by pressing the upper teeth upon the under lip, giving to f the sound of the breath only, and to v the sound of the voice, thus : T. a t. a T. a deep reap peep heap deep reap peep heap | ba-be gle-be gi-be | lo-be babe glebe gibe lobe babe glebe gibe lobe bee-f beef beef ga-ve gave gave lea-f leaf leaf la-ve lave lave sa-fe safe safe sa-ve save save fi-fe fife fife ra-ve rave rave Q. — How are t and d formed ? A. — t and d are formed by pressing the tip of the tongue to the gums of the upper teeth, giving t the sound of the breath only, and to d the sound of the voice ; thus : bai-t bait bait fa-de fade fade da-te date date dee-d deed deed bea-t beat beat si-de side side ci-te cite cite loa-d load load EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. THIRD LESSON. Q. — How are s and z formed ? A. — s and z are formed by placing the tongue nearly in the same manner as in t and d, giving to 5 a hissing sound, and z a buzzing sound ; thus : ca-se case case ga-ze gaze gaze cea-se cease cease ma-ze maze maze lea-se lease lease free-ze freeze freeze do-se dose dose si-ze size size Q. — How are sh and zh formed ? A. — sh and zh are formed nearly in the same manner as s and z, sh having the sound of the breath only, and zh having the sound of the voice ; thus : wa-sh wash wash mar-sh marsh marsh har-sh harsh harsh a-zu-re azure aznre FOURTH LESSON". Q. — How are th as in thin, and th as in that, formed ? — A. — By putting the tongue against the upper teeth, giving to th, as in thin, the sound of the breath only, and to th, as in that, the sound of the voice ; thus : bo-th both both ba-the bathe bathe oa-th oath oath brea-the breathe breathe fai-th faith faith wri-the writhe writhe tee-th teeth teeth clo-the clothe clothe Q. — How are k and g formed ? A. — h and g are formed by pressing the middle of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, near the throat, giving to h the sound of the breath only, and to g the sound of the voice ; thus : ba-ke bake bake pla-gue plague plague ca-ke cake cake vo-gue vogue vogue ma-ke make make ro-gue rogue rogue bea-k beak beak lea-gue league league ELOCUTION MADE EASY. FIFTH LESSON. Note. — The other sound of g, as in gem, is like that of j, described below. Q. — How is ch formed ? A. — ch is formed by joining t to sh ; thus : bea-eh beach beach ea-ch each each lee-ch leech leech pea-ch peach peach tea-ch teach teach rea-cl reach reach Q. — How are /'and g soft formed ? A. — j and g soft are formed by joining d to zh ; thus : rage ca-ge cage cage ga-ge gage gage pa-ge page page Q. — How is m formed ? ra-ge sa-ge lie-ge liege rage sage liege A. — m is formed by closing the lips, and letting the voice pass through the nose ; thus : ai-m aim ca-me came da-me dame fa-me fame 1 aim came dame fame foa-nf ho-me doo-m loo-m foam foam home home doom doom loom loom SIXTH LESSON. Q. — How is n formed ? A. — n is formed by pressing the tip of the tongue to the gums of the upper teeth, and letting the voice pass through the nose, with the mouth open ; thus : ba-ne ca-ne gai-n fa-ne bane cane gain fane bane cane gain fane li-ne lo-ne pru-ne tu-ne line lone prune tune line lone prune tune Q. — How is I formed ? A. — I is formed by placing the tongue in the same manner EXERCISES FOR ARTICULATION. 9 as in n, and letting the voice pass each side of the tongue ; thus : * pile pole sole rule ba-le bale bale pi-le pile da-le dale dale po-le pole ha-le hale hale so-le sole fai-1 fail fail ru-le rule SEVENTH LESSON. Q. — How is r formed ? A. — r is formed by turning up the tip of the tongue nearly to the roof of the mouth, and letting the sound of u, as in but, pass through the mouth, giving to r a jarring or vibra- tory sound when it comes before a vowel, and a smooth sound when it comes after a vowel ' thus : r-ave rave rave ba-r bar bar r-ain rain rain ca-r car car r-eel reel reel fa-r far far r-ise rise rise ma-r mar mar Q. — How is ng formed ? A.. — ng is formed by pressing the middle of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, rand letting the voice pass principally through the nose ; thus : ba-ng bang ra-ng rang cla-ng clang Note. — At the beginning of a word or syllable, w has the sound of oo, and y the sound of e long ; q and u have the sound of Jew, and x has the sound of Jes or gs ; thus, w-ake w-ane w-eek, w-ine w-ild w-oke, qu-ake qu-een qu-eer, ax-is ex-it box-er ex-alt ex-ist ex-empt. bang sa-ng sang sang rang so-ng song song clang wro-ng wrong wrong 10 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. EIGHTH LESSON. CONSONANTS COMBINED. Note. — Here the teacher pronounces the combined consonants, a BL, and the class pronounce ade, &c. BL-ade BR-ace CL-aim CR-ate DR-ain FL-arae FR-ame GL-ade GR-ace Pirate PR-aise SC-ale SCR-ape SL-ave SN-ail SP-ade SPL-ay SPR-ay STR-ay TR-ay BL-eed BR-eeze CL-eave CR-eed DR-eam FL-eet FR-eeze GL-eam GR-een Pl-ea PR-iest SCH-me SCR-eara SL-eeve SM-ear SN-eer SP-eed SPL-een STR-eet TR-ee BL-ind BR-ide CL-ime CR-ime DR-ive FL-ight FR-ight GL-ide GR-ind PL-ight PR-ime Sk-y SCR-ibe SL-ime SM-ite SN-ipe SP-ite SPL-ice SPR-ite STR-ike TR-y BL-ow BR-ogue CL-ose CR-ow DR-ove FL-own FR-oze GL-obe GR-ow PR-ose PR-one SC-ope SCR-oll SL-ow SM-ote SN-ow SP-ort STR-ove TR-ope BL-ue BR-ew CL-ue CR-ew DR-ew FL-ew FR-uit GL-ue GR-ew PL-ume PR-une S CR-ew SL-ew SP-ume STR-ew TR-ue NINTH LESSON. Note. — The capitals are to be pronounced with special force and distinctness. tuRF foRGB marRK'ST peaRL haRM he-RM'D tuRN tuRNS tuRN'D'ST usuRP veRSE buRST paRT'ST seRY ST foRG'D maRK huRL'D'ST maRKS haRM'D'ST usuRP'D tuRN'D paRT usuRP'S parTS buRSTS seRYeS paRTeDST seRYE seRY'D'ST soaKS heaRS fouRTHS fifTHS siXTHS sevenTHS eighTHS ninTHS tenTHS ^leveNTHS EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 11 peRCH seaRCH seaRCH'd seaRCHES maRSH eaRTH deaRTH riSK riSKS liSP lisSPS puZZLE puzZLES puzZL'D'ST priSM prisMS TWELFTH LESSON. Some of the combinations of vowels forming one syllable, ia is pronounced like ya, as in filial, pronounced fil-yal, ie " " " ye, as in spaniel, pronounced span- yel, io " " " yu, as in million, " mil-yun, ua " " " wa, as in assuage, " as-swage, cial " " •« shal, as in social, " so-shal, tial " " " shal or tshel, as in nuptial, pro- nounced nup-shal, in bestial, pronounced bes-tsheal, science ) like shence, as in conscience, pronounced con-shence, tience ) patience, pronounced pa-shence, tient pronounced like shent, as in patient, pronounced pa-shent, S ^ Gr } pronounced like zhur, as in osier, pronounced o-zhur, sion pronounced like shun or zhun, as in version, pronounc- ed ver-shun, evasion, pronounced eva-zhun, cious i pronounced like shus, as in specious, pronounced spe- scious > shus, conscious, pronounced con-shus, factious, pro ■ tious ) nounced fac-shus, sure pronounced like shure or zhure, as in erasure, pro nounced era-zhure, pressure, pronounced presh- shure, tion pronounced like shun or tshun, as in nation, pronounc ed na-shun, fustian, pronounced fus-tshun, tier pronounced like yur, as in courtier, pronounced k6rt-yur teous " *» tsheous, as in courteous, pronounced kur-tshe-us, dier \ pronounced like jur, as in soldier, pronounced sol-jur, deur > grandeur and verdure, pronounced gran-jur and dure ) ver-jur 12 ELOCUTION MADB EASY. CHAPTER IIL THIRTEENTH LESSON. GRAMMATICAL PAUSES. The Grammatical pauses The period The colon The semicolon The comma are . Marked thus > » The interrogation .The exclamation The parenthesis . i • ( The length of these pauses depends upon the nature of die subject, and the circumstances of the case in which they are used, rather than upon invariable rules. The period is supposed to be a pause double the time of the colon ; the colon, double that of a semicolon ; and the semi- colon, double that of the comma, which is generally stated to be long enough for the reader or speaker to count one. The interrogation and exclamation points are said to be indefinite as to their quantity of time, and to mark an elevation of voice ; and the parenthesis to mark a moderate depression or lowering of the voice, with a pause shorter than a comma. RHETORICAL PAUSES. Rhetorical Pauses are those pauses which, in addition to the grammatical pauses, are observed by good speakers or readers, to give variety to the tones of the voice, and distinctness, clearness and force to utterance. This pause is marked thus | The duration of the Rhetorical pauses depends upon the same principles as that of the grammatical pauses, although it is usually shorter. The Rhetorical pause should be made . 1st. After the nominative, if it consists of several words. 2d. After the nominative, if it is an important word. 3d. After the objective in inverted sentences. 4th. Before and after an intermediate clause 5th. Before the relative. THE INFLECTIONS. 13 6th. Before and after clauses introduced by prepositions. 7th. Before conjunctions and the adverbs, how, why, when, where, &c. 8th. Before the infinitive mode, if any word intervene be- tween it and the word which governs it. EXAMPLES. The experience of want | enhances the value of plenty. Truth j is the basis | of excellence. On Linden | when the sun was low. Trials | in this state of being | are the lot of man. Death | is the season | which brings our affections to the test. From the right exercise I of our intellectual powers | arises | one | of the chief sources | of our happiness. We applaud virtue I even in enemies. Honor | and shame | from no conditions rise A public speaker | may have a voice that is musical | and of great compass ; but it requires much time and labor | to attain its just modulation | and that variety of flexion and tone | which a pathetic discourse requires. CHAPTER IV. FOURTEENTH LESSON. THE INFLECTIONS. The monotone is a continuation of sound on the same pitch or key. It is marked thus The monotone has great force and dignity in pronouncing grave, solemn and sublime language. EXAMPLE. thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! whence are thy beams, 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 9 14 ELOCUTION MADE EASY By inflection is meant the turning or slide of the vo|ce up. ward or downward from any pitch or key. The rising inflection, marked thus is that upward slide of the voice which is used in asking a question beginning with a verb, as, Did he say no ? The falling inflection, marked thus is that downward slide of the voice which is usually made in answering a ques- tion, as, Did he say no ? He did ; he said no FIFTEENTH LESSON. TABLE OF INFLECTIONS. Did he say hate or late ? He said hate, not late Did he say beat or peat ? He said beat, not peat Did he say file or vile ? He said file, not vile. Did he say goal or coal ? He said goal, not coaL Did he say flute or lute ? He said flute, not lute. Did he say man or men? He said man, not men. Did he say pin or fin ? He said pin, not fin. Did he say blot or plot ? He said blot, not plot. . * Did he say born or horn? He said born, not horn Did he say burn or turn ? He said bum, not turn. Did he say bar or far ? He said bar, not far CIRCUMFLEX. 15 Did he say fast or last ? He said fast, not last. Did he say call or hall ? He said call, not hall. Did he say true or drew ? He said true, not drew. Did he say full or pull ? He said full, not pull Did he say bird or third ? He said bird, not third. The inflections in the foregoing table may be varied from one tone to an octave. Practising long intervals is specially recommended, as tend ing to give firmness, strength and variety to the voice CHAPTER V. SIXTEENTH LESSON. CIRCUMFLEX. By circumflex is meant two slides of the voice. The rising circumflex, marked thus V consists of the down- ward and upward inflections. The falling circumflex, marked thus A consists of the up- ward and downward inflections. The rising circumflex is principally used on words spoken ironically — that is, on words expressing one thing and mean- ing another. EXAMPLE. V V A Hear him, my lord : he is wondrous condescending. Here under leave of Brutus and the rest, V And Brutus is an honorable man V V V So are they all, all honorable men. The falling circumflex generally is used to express reproach, 16 ELOCUTION MADE EASY and may be exemplified by the drawling tone w e hear on the word you, in Hamlet's answer to his mother, who says — Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended. Hamlet. Madam, you have my father much offended. Both these circumflex inflections may be exemplified in thus V A — If you said so then I said so SOME OF THE RULES FOR THE INFLECTIONS. Rule 1. The rising inflection should be made when a question is asked beginning with a verb, as, Did you hear ? Is the king dead ? Rule 2. The rising inflection should be made between the nomina- tive and the verb, as, Adversity is the parent of piety. Rule 3. The rising inflection should be made at a pause in a sen- tence, where the sense is not completed, as, Whatever your hands find to do, that do with your might Rule 4. In a sentence, where the two principal parts depend on each other for sense, the voice slides up where the sense or where the meaning begins to be formed, as, At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accom- plishment of little, mean and ungenerous minds. SEVENTEENTH LESSON. Rule 5. The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- tence connected by corresponding conjunctions, adverbs, the subjunctive mode, and the comparative degree, as, THE INFLECTIONS. 17 As trees and plants necessarily arise from seeds, so are you, Anthony, the seed of this most calamitous war. We may as well be refreshed with a clear and brisk dis- course, as by the air of Campanian wines. If there were no cowardice, there would be little insolence. When you have leisure, attend to the improvement of your mind. It is more blessed to give, than to receive Rule 6. The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- tence introduced by participles, adjectives, infinitives and pre- positions, as, Conquered and enslaved, it is not boldness, but necessity, that urges to battle. Awkward in his person and ungainly in his manners, James was ill qualified to command respect. To say the least, they have betrayed great want of candor. In the ruffled and angry hour, we view every appearance through a false medium. Rule 7. The rising inflection takes place before a relative, where it modifies or limits the antecedent, as, No man ever attained lasting fame, who did not, on several occasions, contradict the prejudices of popular applause. Rule 8. The rising inflection takes place when we address, invite, petition, or request, as, Gentlemen, allow me to lay before you the object of my mis- sion, which I will do as briefly as possible. 2* 18 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Rule 9. The rising inflection takes place in negative sentences, as, He was virtuous, not vicious. Rule 10. The rising inflection takes place between the parts of an antithesis or between sentences in opposition to each other, as, Philosophy makes us wiser, Christianity makes us better men. Rule 11. Where interrogative sentences are connected by the disjunc- tive, or, the first ends with the rising, the rest with the falling inflection, as, Shall we crown the author of the public calamities, or shall we destroy him ? Rule 12. The rising inflection takes place on the repeating word or thought, as, Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give its sanction to measures thus obtruded and forced upon us ? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourish- ing kingdom to scorn and contempt ! Note. — Series denotes an enumeration of particulars. If the enumeration consists of single words, it is called a simple series; when it consists of several words, it is called a compoimd series. When the sense requires that there should be a rising slide on the last particular, the series is called the commencing series; and when the sense requires the falling slide on the last particular, it is called the concluding series. Rule 13. The rising inflection is made on the last particular of a com- mencing series ; and on the last but one in a concluding series. Rule 14. The falling inflection takes place on all the particulars but the last in a commencing series, and on all but the last but one in a concluding series. (Commencir.g Series.) To advise the ignorant, relieve the THE INFLECTIONS. 19 needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way : almost every day in our lives. (Concluding Series.) Nature has laid out all her art in beau- tifying the face ; she has touched it with vermilion, planted in it a row of ivory, made it the seat of smiles and blushes, lighted it up and enlivened it with the brightness of the eyes, hung it on each side with curious organs of sense, given it airs and graces that cannot be described, and surrounded it with such a flowing shade of hair, as sets all its beauties in the most agreeable light. Rule 15. The falling inflection takes place when the sense is finish- ed, when an affirmation is made, or a command is given, as, Nothing valuable can be gained without labor. Charge, Chester! charge! On, Stanley! on! Rule 16. The falling inflection takes place at the end of questions be- ginning with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, as, What is your name ? Who comes here ? When shall you go ? Rule 17. The falling inflection takes place on a clause which makes perfect sense of itself, followed by a clause which merely illustrates or gives something additional, and not as a consequence of what is in the first clause, as, An elevated genius employed in little things, appears like the sun in his evening declination ; he remits his splendor, but retains his magnitude ; and pleases more, though he dazzles less. Note.— The foregoing are only a part of the general rules which relate to the tions. But they are deemed sufficient for general purposes. It should also be remarked, that any of the general rules of inflections may be varied by emphasis. 20 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. CHAPTER VI. EIGHTEENTH LESSON. EMPHASIS. By emphasis is meant a stronger and fuller utterance of a word or words. As a general rule, words expressing ideas of special importance, and those contrasted with, contradistin- guished from, or opposed to, other words expressed or under- stood, are always emphatical : as Ccesar was a general ; Cicero was an orator ; Solomon was wise ; Samson was strong ; the sun shines by dag, the moon by night ; good men delight in virtue, bad men in vice. CHAPTER VII. NINETEENTH LESSON. THE KEYS OR PITCHES OP THE VOICE. Note. — A change of key is generally required at the beginning of a new sentence. The principal keys of the voice are the low, the middle, and the high. The low key is adapted to solemn subjects ; as : The Lord, the Sovereign sends his summons forth, Calls the south nations and awakes the north ; From east to west the sounding orders spread, Through distant worlds and regions of the dead. The middle key is adapted to commence conversation and unexciting subjects ; as : I brino; fresh showers for the thirsting; flowers, I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams. The high key is adapted to intensely exciting subjects ; as : Arm ! arm ! Your country bids you arm ! Fling out your banners free, — Let drum and trumpet sound alarm, O'er mountain, plain and sea. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 21 CHAPTER VIII. TWENTIETH LESSON". VOCAL GYMNASTICS, OR EXERCISES FOR THE LUNGS AND YOCAL ORGANS. The importance of uniting physical with mental culture has long been appreciated and advocated by reflecting men inter- ested in the great cause of education ; and it may safely be predicted that, within a few years, gymnastics, in various forms, will be extensively introduced into common schools and higher institutions of learning. Then, and not till then, will our studious youth, our literary and professional men fully exemplify the phrase, " Mens sana in corpore sana" — A sound mind in a sound body. The plan herein adopted has been thoroughly and successfully tested in many classes, containing from fifty to three hundred pupils, drilled in concert, not only in vocal gymnastics but in reading and declamation. Every fair experiment conclusively proves that these exercises peculiarly strengthen the lungs and vocal organs, and impart health and vigor to the physical and mental powers, while they improve the quality of the voice and secure rapid improvement in reading and declamation. The plan is therefore earnestly commended to teachers, with a firm persuasion that a fair trial, on their part, will fully verify these conclusions, derived from experience. Fig. 1. Note.— Make every motion in this and the other exercises quickly and forcibly, and pronounce every sound with special force, never failing to inhale a full breath before pronouncing the word or any part of a word. Generally keep the hands closely y — — * clinched, unless dumb bells are used. Order — " Take Posture." — At this order, as- sume the posture of Fig. 1. Or. — " Arms Forward." — At this order, pro- ject the arms forward, at the same time inhaling a full breath. 22 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Or. — " Arms Backward." — At this order, throw the arms back as far as possible, at the same time articulating one of the vowels below. Continue Hhis exercise till all the vowels are ar- ticulated. Counting may also be added to this exercise ; count the whole numbers below with one breath, making a motion at every number, counting may also be added under each figure, at the option of the teacher. 1 2 3 4 1 2 bale, bar, ball, bat, cede, pen, p 2. 1 2 3 12 3 4 ne, pin, note, move, nor, pure> tune, full, sun. 1 2 The Vowels may be repeated under each Figure. 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 TWENTY-FIRST LESSON. Take Posture." — Assume the posture •%• 2. Order- of Fig. 2. Or.--" Elbows Forward." — Throw the elbows for- ward as far as possible, at the same time pronouncing the part of the word before the hyphen. Or. — " Elbows Backward." — Throw the elbows back as far as possible, pronouncing the elementary sound (not the name) of the consonant after the hyphen ; then repeat the motions, inhaling the breath with the forward motion, and pronouncing the whole word with the backward motion. In a similar man- ner, perform the exercises under each of the followin except Figs. 6, 7, and 9. g figures, dee-p deep deep rea-p reap reap pee-p hea-p peep heap peep heap 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ba-be gle-be gi-be lo-be babe glebe gibe lobe babe glebe gibe lobe 11 12 .13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 2& Fig. 3. Order — " Arras upward !" — Throw the arms up- ward as on Fig. 3, pronouncing the part of the word before the hyphen. Or. — " Elbows downward." — Lower the elbows to the point indicated by the stars, keeping the arms and hands in a vertical direction, or pointing up- wards. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. bee-f beef beef ga-ve gave gave lea-f leaf leaf la-ve lave lave sa-fe safe safe sa-ve save save fi-fe fife fife ra-ve rave rave 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Fig. 4. Order — "Arms Forward." — Project the arms of Fig. 4. ■ Or. — "Arms backward," — Throw the arms as far behind as possible, so as to approach each other as nearly as possible. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. bai-t bait bait fa-de fade fade da-te date date dee-d deed deed bea-t beat beat si-de side side ci-te cite cite loa-d load load 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 1 7 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 Fig. 5. Order — " Hands upward," — Kaise the hands as on Fig. 5. Or.—" Hands downward." — Lower them to the point indicated by the stars. In other re- spects follow the directions at Fig. 2. ca-se case case ga-ze gaze gaze cea-se cease cease ma-ze maze maze lea-se lease lease free-ze freeze freeze do-se dose dose si-ze size size 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30. 24 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Fig. 6. TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. Order — " Take posture." — Assume the pos- ture of Fig. 6, Or. — " Alternate motions." — Move the arms alternately, as indicated, in the same figure, pronouncing the parts of words and whole words alternately. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. bo-th both both ba-the bathe athe oa-th oath oath brea-the breathe reathe fai-th faith faith wri-the writhe writhe tee-th teeth teeth clo-the clothe lothe 12 3 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 Fig. 1. Order — " Take posture." — Assume the position as on Fig. 7. Or. — " Alternate motions." In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 6. ba-ke bake bake ca-ke cake cake ma-ke make make bea-k beak beak pla-gue plague plague vo-gue vogue vogue ro-gue rogue rogue lea-gue league league 12345 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 Fig. 8. Order — " Take posture." — Assume the posture of Fig. 8. Or. — " Fingers to shoulders." Bring the fingers to the shoulders, in the di- rection indicated by Fig. 8. Or. — "Arms extended." Extend the arms as in Fig. 8. In other re- spects follow the directions at Fig. 2. ra-ge sa-ge lie-ge rage sage lieg-e rage sage liege 4 5 6 7 8 9 S.O 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 25 TWENTY-THIRD LESSOK Fig. 9. Order — " Take Posture/' — Assume the posture of Fig. 9. Or.—" Strike Chest."— Strike the chest with clinched hand alternately, striking with the right hand first. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 6. ai-m ca-me da-me fa-me aim came dame fame aim came dame fame foa-m ho-me doo-m loo-m foam home doom loom foam home doom loom 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 Fig. 10. gai-n fa-ne Order. — " Take Posture. " — Assume the posture of Fig. 10. Or. — " Forward and Backward." — Throw the arms in the direction represented by the line, to the point indicated by the star. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. gain fane bane cane gain fane li-ne lo-ne pru-ne tu-ne line lone prune tune line lone prune tune 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. Order — " Take Posture." — Assume the posture of Fig. 11. Or. — " Arms around Head." — Swing the arms alternately around the head as far back as possible. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 6. pile pole sole rule Fig. 11. ba-le bale bale pi-le da-le dale dale po-le ha-le hale hale so-le fai-1 fail fail ru-le 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 1' 18 19 20 5 Fig. 12. r-ave rave rave r-ain r-eel rain reel rain reel r-ise ba-ng rise bang rise bang ra-ng cla-ng rang clang rang clang Order— " Take Posture."— As- sume the posture of Fig. 12. Or.—" Arms Upward."— Throw the arms over the head till they meet, then throw them down for- cibly to their position, as on the figure. In other respects follow the directions at Fig. 2. ba-r bar bar ca-r car car fa-r far far rna-r mar mar sa-ng sang sang so-ng song song wro-ng wrong wron. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. tl CHAPTER IX. TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. Note.— In the following selections the capital letter (R) denotes the place for res- piration, or drawing the breath. But let it not be understood that the places thus de- noted are the only places at which the breath should be taken ; or, that it should always be taken at them, unless as an exeroise for the voice. Some persons can read, speak, or sing much longer with one breath, than others. Therefore no definite rules for respiration should be given. THE RAINBOW. Baldwin's Lond. Magazine. (R) The evening was glorious, and light through the trees (R) Play'd the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the breeze, (R) The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay (R) On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. (R) For the queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down the vale, Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale ; (R) And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers (R) The skies, like a banner in sun-set unroll'd, O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold ; (R) But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd, Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith, and east. (R) We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glow'd, When a vision of beauty appear'd on the cloud ; — (R) 'Twas not like the Sun, as at mid-day we view, Nor the Moon, that rolls nightly through star-light and blue (R) Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm ! And the eye, and the heart, hail'd its beautiful form, fR) For it look'd not severe, like an Angel of Wrath, But its garment of brightness illumed its dark path. 28 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. (R) In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood, O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood; (R) .And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright, As conscious they gave and afforded delight. V R) 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand Whose grasp at Creation the universe spann'd ; V R) 'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime. His vow from the flood to the exit of time. (R) Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads, When storms are his chariot, and lightnings his steeds, (R) The" black clouds his banner of vengeance unfurl'd, And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world ;— . (R) In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire, And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, (R) And the sword and the plague-spot, with death strew the plain, And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain (R) Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one ! Whose arch was refraction, its keystone — the Sun , (R) A pavilion it seem'd which the Deity graced, And Justice and Mercy met there, and embraced (R) Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom, Like Love o'er a death couch, or Hope o'er the tomb ; Then left the dark scene ; whence it slowly retired, As Love had just vanished, or Hope had expired • Jt) I gazed not alone on that source of my song ; To all who beheld it these verses belong ; Its presence to all was the path of the Lord ! Each full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored. (R) Like a visit — the converse of friends — or a day, That bow, from my sight, passed for ever away : Like that visit, that converse, that day — to my heart, Tli at bow from remembrance can never depart. MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 29 (R) 'Tis a picture in memory distinctly denned, With the strong and unperishing colors of mind : A part of my being beyond my control, Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul. TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. Extract from Heroines of Sacred History, by Mrs. Steele HEROISM OF DEBORAH. (R) Night with her lustrous stars, her silence and repose, had passed away, (R) and soft-eyed dawn, heralded by gentle zephyrs, and breathing out perfume, (R) arose from Asia's mists like the poet's Venus from the sea, (R) all smiles and gladness. (R) Each flower threw out its fairy petals, (R) and wafted forth its fragrant incense to the day. (R) Almond and citron blossoms, brilliant pomegranate, (R) and oleander tossed the dew from their delicate heads, (R) and shook their fragile branches in the morning breeze. (R) The birds were on every bough (R) sing- ing their rejoicings to the coming day; (R) for as yet the sun had not appeared, (R) but clouds of rose and purple told of his near approach, (R) and threw a softened radiance over plain and hill and valley. (R) A clear and gentle river — Kishon, (R) "that ancient river, the river Kishon," (R) wound through the verdant plain. (R) By its side arose a sloping hill, (R) whose summit was crowned by a grove of oaks and elms, (R) among whose shadows a lordly temple was just made visible (R) as the sim's first rays fell on the hill-top, (R) while all below still lay in shade. (R) The rising light revealed its snowy porticos and lofty arches, (R) and graceful columns of rare proportion ; (R) then passing down the hill shone on a procession of solemn worshippers (R) who were winding along the river's bank, and ascending to the temple above. (R) Conspicuous among the throng were the sacred oxen, (R) who gaily decorated with ribbons, and wreathed with roses, (R) were led by young boys clad in white robes (R) and crowned with garlands. (R) Behind them came a train of women dancing, ( - R) and singing to in- struments of music ; (R) while preceding and around the vic- tims were several hundred priests (R) whose black robes threw the only shadow over a landscape (R) now brightly illumin- 30 ELOCUTION MADE EASY ed by the broadly risen sun. (R) The procession ascended the hill ; (R) the temple doors were thrown open ; (R) the priests entered and advanced to the altar. (R) There upon two pedes- tals, stood the gods they came to worship. (R) The one, a man cast in brass, having an ox's head — (R) the other of marble, and human shape, clothed in a coat of golden mail, (R) wearing a crown and wielding a sword; (R) the former was Moloch, and the latter Baal (R) To these gods of marble and gold (R) the priests and people had come to ask for protection from a pow- erful enemy, (R) who in predatory bands made inroads upon them, (R) and carried away flocks, and people, and goods. Reader., canst thou say in what land arose this temple, (R) these images of marble, and these idol worshippeis ? (R) Canst thou believe it was in Israel ? (R) In the promised land ? (R) Alas — it was the dear-bought land of Canaan (R) and these de- luded idolators were the sons of Judah, (R) once God's own peculiar people ! TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON Extract from the same. HEROISM OF JEPTHAH'S DAUGHTER. The city of Gilead was filled with rejoicing (R) that their enemy was repelled, (R) and its streets were crowded with the citizens, (R) eager to behold the triumphant entry (R) of their victorious leader. (R) Jepthah approached, seated in a brazen chariot (R) surrounded by his steel clad warriors. (R) His robe of blue embroidered with gold, (R) was bound by a broad girdle of golden mail, (R) a sword hung in chains from his side, and shoes of brass defended his feet, (R) a scarlet mantle fell from his shoulders, and around his head (R) was a band of steel chain- work, from which, projected in front, (R) a horn of gold, giving him a fierce and terrible«appearance. (R) When the procession arrived before the house of Jepthah (R) the gate was thrown open, and a group of young girls came dancing forth, (R) mingling their jocund music with the cheers of the populace. (R) What saw the conqueror in yon joyous train, (R) that he started as if a shot from the enemy's archers had stricken him ! — (R) why bowed his lofty head unto his bosom ? (R) At the head of the youthful train came the hero's MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 31 daughter, his only child, (R) holding aloft the sweet sounding timbrel, and attired as became a ruler's daughter, (R) in a robe of divers colors, richly embroidered (R) with gorgeous feather- work, and gold, and silk of varied dyes. (R) A fillet of white roses bound her dark tresses, (R) and her tiny feet were strapped hi scarlet sandals, (R) Smiles lighted up her fan- face, and her soft dove's eyes (R) beamed with filial tender- ness (R) when raised to her lordly father. (R) Behind her, were the maidens of Gilead, clad in white, with chapiets of red roses; (R) their slender ancles circled with silver bells. (R) Like leaves from a gay parterre* swept onward by a summer freeze, (R) these lovely flow'rets floated in mazy wnirls V R) until beside the chariot of the conqueror. (R) The daughter of Jepthah approached her father, (R) and when the people looked to see him fold her hi his embrace (R) with a frantic start, he rent the bosom of his gilded robe, (R) and covering his head with his mantle (R) he groaned with anguish. (R) " My father !" said a gentle voice beside him. (R) " Alas, my daughter !" (R) cried the conqueror, with a burst of agony (R ) — " From my high estate of joy thou hast brought me low down in the dust !" (R) There was deep silence while he spoke — " God, forgive me ! (R) my child, forgive me ! (R) When I faced the children of Ammon in battle, (R) I vowed, if the Lord would deliver them into my hands, (R) I would offer up, as sacrifice unto him, (R) the first that came forth from my house to meet me ! (R) Thou art the first — my child ! my only one !" (R) A deep consternation fell upon the hearts of all, when this rash vow was heard — (R) on all, save upon that fair and gentle creature who was the victim. (R) With brow unblanch- ed, and with a glow of generous self-devotion, she said to Jepthah — " (R) My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth to the Lord, (R) do unto me as thou hast vowed. (R) Thy God hath made thee conqueror over thy enemies — (R) the children of Ammon have fallen before thee, (R) and if I am to be the price of victory, (R) take me and do unto me according to thy vow. (R) I die for my country and for my father — (R) hi that death there is no bitterness." * Parterre pronounced partare—a. flower-garden. 32 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. CHAPTER X. TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. GESTURE. Fig. 1. A graceful and impressive action is one of the highest ac- complishments of the orator. So it was deemed by the cele- brated orators of Athens and Rome. Its importance gives it a just claim to the special attention of teachers of Elocution. But in a volume of this size, a full treatise on this subject cannot be expected. The following figures are designed to give the pupil a gene- ral idea of appropriate gestures, and to enable him to exercise his own taste and judgment, in the use of such other gestures, as may enforce and illustrate the various thoughts and senti- ments he may be called upon to utter SOME OF THE SIGNIFICANT GESTURES. The Head and Face. The hanging down of the head denotes shame or grief The holding of it up, pride or courage. To nod forward implies assent. To toss the head back, dissent. The inclination of the head implies bashfulness or languor The head is averted in dislike or horror. If Vans forward in attention GESTURE. 33 The Eyes The eyes are raised in prayer. They weep in sorrow. They burn in anger. They are downcast or averted in anger They are cast on vacancy in thought. They are thrown in different directions in doubt and anxiety. The Arms. The arm is projected forward in authority. Both arms are spread extended in admiration. They are both held forward in imploring help They both fall suddenly in disappointment. The Hands. The hand on the head indicates pain or distress On the eyes, shame. On the lips, injunction of silence. On the breast, it appeals to conscience, or intimates strong internal emotion. The hand waves or nourishes in joy or contempt Both hands are held supine, applied or clasped in prayer. Both descend prone in blessing. They are clasped or wrung m affliction The Body The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and courage Thrown back, pride. Stooping forward, condescension or compassion. Bending, reverence or respect. Prostration, the utmost humility or abasement. TJie Lower Limbs. Their firm position signifies courage or obstinacy Bended knees, timidity or weakness. Frequent change, disturbed thoughts They advance in desire or courage. Retire in aversion or fear. Start in terror. Stamp in authority or anger. Kneel in submission and prayer . 34 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. \ lj.It.ii. Fig. 2. a.li.2. p,2. / \ i \ I c.R.1. xX.l In the second and third figures, the foot which is deeply shaded supports the principal part of the body, and that which is lightly shaded rests lightly upon the floor. The resting foot moves first, in changing the position. The two feet in the centre of each figure represent the starting point, or original position. The direction in which the feet move, is marked by dotted lines. The line in which the first foot moves is distinguished by a star. In each figure four steps may be made from each starting point or original po- sition. R. 1. Denotes right foot first position. I L. 1. Denotes left foot first position. R. 2. " right foot second position. | L. 2. " left foot second position. a. Advancing. c. Crossing. r. Retreating. tr. Traversing. GESTURE. 35 J*^. 4. Pig. 5. POINTING TO THE ZENITH. CONVERSATION. In Figures 3 and 4, r is abbreviated for rest, d for down- wards, h for horizontal, e for elevated, z for zenith ; denoting the direction of the arm. Fig. 6 APPEALING TO CONSCIENCE. INTENSE GRIEF ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Fig. 8. Fig fc EARNEST APPEAL HORROR OR EXTREME AVERSION Flg.l* Fig. 11 ADMIRATION OF SURROUNDING OBJECTS APPEALING TO HEAVEN. GESTURE 37 Fig. 12 Fig. 13. Fig. U. Fig 15 MELANCHOLY DISTRESS ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Fig. 16. Fig. 17. " A widow cries, Be husband to me, heaven." King John, act 3, sc 1 This arm shall vindicate a father's cause Grecian Daughter scene last Fig. 18. " See w~here she stands like Helen." Fair Penitent, act 5, sc. 1. " Jehovah's arm snatched from the waves and brings to me my child." Douglas, act 3, sc. 2 GESTURE. 3D TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. Note. —The little stars in each of the following figures show the place of the posi- tion of the hands in the preceding figure ; and the dotted lines show the direction of transition from one gesture to another. But it may not be advisable to aim at precise imitation in making the transitions. These lines, as well as the figures to which they are attached, are designed to serve only as a general guide. THE MISER AND PLUTUS. Fig. 20. Fig. 21. The wind was high— the window shakes; Fig. 22. Fig. 23 With sudden start the miser wakes ' Along the silent room he stalks: 40 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Fig. 24. Fig. 25 Looks back, and trembles as he walks i Fig. '26. Fig. 27 Each lock, and every bolt he tries, In ev'ry creek and cornel pries ; Fig. 23. Then opes his chest, with treasure stor'd, And stands in rapture o'er his hoard : GESTURE 41 Fig. 30 Fig. 31. But now with sudden qualms possest, He wrings his hands; he beats his breast- Fig. 32 Fig. 33. By conscience stung, he wildly stares ; A.nd thus his guilty sowi declares : Fig. 34. Fig. "So Had the deep earth her stores confm'd, 5* This heart had known sweet peace of miad; 42 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Fig. 36. Fig. 37. But virtue's sold Fig. 38. Can recompense the pangs of vice ? Fig. 40. Good gods ! what price Fig. 39. Obane of good! seducing cheat ! Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ? GESTURE. 43 Fig. 42. Fig. 43. Gold banish'd honor from the mind, Fig. 44. Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill ; Fig. 46. Twas gold instructed coward hearts And only left the name behind; Fig. 45 Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill : F$g. 47. In treach'ry's more pernicious arts, 44 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. J^.48. Fig. 49v Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? Virtue resides on earth no more ' THE SAME WITHOUT THE FIGURES The wind was high — the window shakes ; With sudden start the miser wakes ! Along the silent room he stalks ; Looks back, and trembles as he walks ! Each lock, and every bolt he tries, In ev'ry creek and corner pries ; Then opes his chest, with treasure stor'd, And stands in rapture o'er his hoard : But now with sudden qualms possest, He wrings his hands ; he beats his breast — By conscience stung, he wildly stares ; And thus his guilty soul declares : Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, This heart had known sweet peace of mind : But virtue's sold ! good gods ! what price Can recompense the pangs of vice ' bane of good ! seducing cheat ! Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ? Gold banish'd honor from the mind, And only left the name behind ; Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill ; Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill - 'Twas gold instructed coward hearts In treach'ry's more pernicious arts. Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? Virtue resides on earth no more ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 45 CHAPTER XI. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. Note.— In the following Selections the sign of the Rhetorical Pause is made in most ?{ the places authorized by the Rules of Rhetorical Punctuation. A strict atten- tion to these pauses will conduce greatly to the pupil's improvement in Elocution.— The Sections are made short to accommodate young pupils, and those who may not w'sh to commit to memory a whole Lesson. THIRTIETH LESSON. SPEECH OF JAMES OTIS. Francis. Section 1. England | may as well dam up the waters of tlie Nile | with bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and firm | in this youthful land, than where she treads the seques- tered* glens of Scotland, or couches herself | among the mag* nificent mountains | of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like those against which we now contend, have cost one king of England his life, another his crown, and they may yet cost a third his most flourishing colonies. We are two millions — one-fifth fighting men. We are bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation, from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance; but it must not, and it never can be extorted.f , Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ?" No ! America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds, implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True, the spectre^ is now small; but the shadow | he casts before him | is huge enough to darken all this fair land Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of grati- tude | which we owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought it forth | on the solitude * Sequestered, secluded — at a distance from other inhabited places. t Extorted, gained by force. t Spectre, an apparition — a ghost 46 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. of the mountain, or left it | amid the winds and storms of the desert. Section 2. We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were behind us. We have waked the new world from its savage lethargy ;* forests have been prostrated I in our path; towns and cities have grown up suddenly I as the flowers of the tropics,f and the fires | in our autumnal woods j are scarcely more rapid than the increase of our wealth | and population. And do we owe all this "| to the kind succor of the mother country ? No ! we owe it to the tyranny | that drove us from her j to the pelting storms j which invigorated our helpless infancy But perhaps others will say, "We ask no money | from your gratitude^-we only demand | that you should pay your own expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? Why, the king — (and with all due reverence | to his sacred majesty, he understands the real wants j of his distant sub- jects, as little | as he does the language of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge | concerning the frequency of these demands ? The ministry. Who is to judge | whether the money | is pro- perly expended ? The cabinet | behind the throne. In every instance, those who take are to judge J for those who pay; if this system | is suffered to go into operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and dew | do not depend upon Parliament; otherwise | they would soon be taxed and dried. But thanks to God there is freedom enough left Upon earth | ■ to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty j is extinguished^ | in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing embers | is still bright and strong | on the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist | unto death. But we will not countenance anarchy§ and misrule. The wrongs, that a desperate community | have heaped upon then enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well | for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted | in these colonies, which one breath of their king | may kindle into such fury, that the blood of all England | cannot extinguish it. * Lethargy, stupidity, dulness. X Extinguished, put out, quenched t Tropics, warm countries near the equator. § Jlnarchy, want of government. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 47 THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. THE AMERICAN INDIANS.— SpmgUe. Section 1. R*J)ll back the tide of time. Not many generations ago, where yon now sit, circled with all that exalts and embellishes* civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox | dug his hole | unscared. Here lived and loved | another race of beings. Beneath the same sun | that rolls over your heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on the same moon | that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze | beamed on the tender and helpless, the council fire glared | on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs | in your sedgyf lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe | along yout rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. Here, too, they worshipped ; and | from many a dark bosom | went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them | on tables of stone, but He had traced them | on the tables of their hearts. Section 2. The poor child of nature | knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe | he acknowledged | in everything around. He beheld him | in the star that sunk in beauty | be- hind his lonely dwelling ; in the sacred orb | that flamed on him | from his midday throne ; in the flower that snapped | in the morning breeze ; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler | that never left its native grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds ; in the worm | that crawled at his foot ; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent, in humble, though blind adoration. And all this has passed away Across the ocean | came a * Evibellishes, makes beautiful. t Sedgy, overgrown with flags. 48 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The formei J were sown for yon ; the latter | sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years | have changed the char- acter | of a great continent, and blotted for ever | from its face j a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education | have been too powerful | for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain, but how unlike their bold, untameable progenitors !* Section 3. The Indian, of falconf glance, and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone ; and his degraded offspring | crawl upon the soil | where he walked hi majesty, to remind us how miserable is man | when the foot of the conqueror | is on his neck. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council fire | has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry | is fast dying j to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly | they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom | in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide | which is pressing them away ; they must soon hear the roar | of the last wave, which will settle over them [ for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive^ white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder | on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder | to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only J in the songs and chro- nicles | of their exterminators. § Let these be faithful j to their rude virtues | as men, and pay due tribute | to their unhappy fate | as a people. * Progenitors, forefathers. t Falcon, pronounced fawk'n — like a hawk. t Inquisitive, inquiring with curiosity. j|. Exterminators, those who drove them away SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 49 THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. LAFAYETTE. SprdgUe. Section 1. While we bring our offerings | for the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous* spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and wo ? Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of glory, let the lips of those | who can speak well, hallow each spot | where the bones of your Bold repose ; but forget not those | who with your Bold | went out to battle. Among these men of noble daring, there was One, a young and gallantf stranger, who left the blushing vine -hills | of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor, were not his people ; he knew them only | in the wicked story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for the spoil of the vanquished ; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation ; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave | to hide his cold heart ; he was girdled | by the companions of his childhood, his kinsmen were about him, his wife was before him. Section 2. Yet from all these he turned away, and came. Like a lofty tree, that shakes down its green glories | to battle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings^ of place and pride, to crusade for freedom, in freedom's holy land. He came — but not in the day of successful rebellion, not when the new- risen sun of independence | had burst the cloud of time and careered to its place in the heavens. He came | when dark- ness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still | in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty ; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife * Chivalrous, brave. $ Trappings, ornaments. 1 Gallant, brave. 5 50 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death damp | from the brow of her lover. He came [ when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious | to doubt the favor of God. It was then | that this One joined the ranks of a revolted* people. Freedom's little phalanxf bade him a grateful wel- come. With them he courted the battle's rage, with their's his arm was lifted ; with their's his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled | on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven | from the temple of liberty, and | at her pure shrine | the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet | towards his long-deserted home Section 3. After nearly fifty years | that One has come again. Can mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming ? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated na- tion comes round him. Old men bless him, and children rever- ence him. The lovely come out to look upon him, the learned deck their halls to greet him, the rulers of the land rise up to do aim homage. How his full heart labors ! He views the rust- mg trophies of departed days, he treads the high places | where his brethren moulder, he bends | before the tomb of his "Fa- ther :" — his words are tears : the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round j upon aransomedland | and a joyous race ; he beholds the blessings | those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which that " Father" lived ; and again his words are tears ; the eloquence of gratitude and joy. Spread forth creation like a map ; bid earth's dead multitude revive ; — and of all the pageant splendors | that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye | on a sight like this ? * Revolted, rebellious, that had renounced allegiance to their king, t Phalanx, a body of soldiers. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 51 Of all the myriads | that have come and gone, what cherished minion | ever ruled an hour like this ? Many have struck the redeeming blow | for their own freedom ; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom | in the cause of strangers ? Others have lived | in the love of their own people, but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome | with another i Matchless chief ! of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for hinx for him alone ! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor ; the everlasting flame of liberty | shall guard it, that the generations a" men J may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name | of La Fayette ! THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. ENGLISH TAXES. Edinburgh Review. Section 1. Permit me to inform you, my friends, what are the inevita- ble consequences | of being too fond of glory ; — Taxes — upon every article | which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under the foot — taxes upon everything | which is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste — taxes upon warmth, Light, and locomotion* — taxes on everything on earth, and the waters under the earth — on everything that comes from abroad, or is grown at home — taxes on the raw material — taxes on every fresh value | that is added to it | by the indus- try of man — taxes on the sauce | which pampers man's appe- tite, and the drug | which restores him to health — on the er^ mine* | which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the criminal — on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice — on the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribands of the bride. * * * * Section 2. The school-boy | whips his taxed top — the beardless youth | manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, | on a taxed road ; — and the dying Englishman | pouring his medicine * Locomotion, act of moving from one place to another. t £7"-*»?,t'ne>thefurofan animal called the Ermine. 52 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. which has paid seven per cent. Into a spoon | that has paid fifteen per cent. — flings himself back | upon his chintz bed | which has paid twenty-two per cent. — makes his will | on an eight pound stamp, and expires | in the arms of an apothecary, who has paid a license of a hundred pounds | for the privilege | of putting him to death. His whole property | is then im- mediately taxed | from two to ten per cent. Besides the pro- bate, large fees are demanded for burying him | in the chancel ; his virtues are handed down to posterity | on taxed marble , and he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more. THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. south Carolina. — Haynes. Section 1. If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President (and I say it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge comparison | with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculat- ing devotion to the Union, that state | is South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the revolution | up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheer- fully made ; no service | she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you | in your prosperity, but in your ad- versity she has clung to you j with more than filial affection. No matter | what "was the condition of her domestic* affairs, though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or sur- rounded by difficulties, the call of the country | has been to her | as the voice of God. Domestic discordf ceased | at the sound — every man became at once | reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina | were all seen | crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar | of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the south | during the revolution ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct | in that glorious struggle : but great as is the praise j which be- longs to her, I think at least | equal honor is due to the south. * Domestic, belonging to home. t Domestic discord, discord in our own country SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 53 They espoused* the quarrel of their brethren | with generous zeal, which did not suffer them to stop | to calculate their in- terest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, pos- sessed of neither ships nor seamen | to create commercial rivalship, they might have found | in their situation a guaranty j that their trade would be for ever fostered j and protected by Great Britain. But trampling on all considerations, either of interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting for principle, periled all hi the sacred cause of freedom. Never was there exhibited | in the history of the world | higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endur- ance, than by the whigs of Carolina | during that revolution The whole state, from the mountain to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of indus- try perished | on the spot | where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. The if plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious blood of her citizens — black and smoking ruins | marked the places | which had been the habitations of her children ! Driven from their homes | into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survivedf and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumpters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that j though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people j was invincible 4 THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. Massachusetts. — Webster, Section 1. - The eulogium§ pronounced | on the character of the scata of South Carolina | by the honorable gentleman, for her revo- lutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence |i I shall not acknowledge | that the honorable member goes be- fore me | in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or dis- tinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim * Espoused, united in. || Eulogium, praise. t Survived, remained alive. $ Concurrence, assent. t Invincible, not to be conquered. 54 ELOCUTION MADE EASY part of the honor : I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses. Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions — Amer- icans all — whose fame is no more to be hemmed in | by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed* | "within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation | they served and honored the country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him, whose honored name the gentleman bears himself — does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened | upon the light in Massachu- setts | instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his power | to exhibit a Carolina name so bright | as to pro- duce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, — increased gratification and delight, rather. Sir, I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit | which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. Section 2. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to spring up | beyond the little limits of my own state and neigh- borhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism,! to sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an un- common endowment of heaven — if I see extraordinary capa- city and virtue in any son of the south — and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened} by state jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair | from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections — let me indulge in refreshing remembrances of the past— let me remind you | that in early times no states cherished greater harmony, both of prin- ciple and Of feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina Would to God | that harmony might again return. Shoulder * Circumscribed, enclosed. t Gangrened, mortified, corrupted. t Patriotism, love of country SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 55 to shoulder ] they went through the revolution — hand in hand | they stood round tne administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them J for support. Unkind feel- ing, if it exist, alienation* and distrust are the growth, un- natural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scat- tered. Section 3. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomiumf upon Massa- chusetts — she needs none. There she is — behold her and judge for yourselves. There is her history — the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker's Hill ; and there they will remain for ever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled | with the soil of every state, from New England to Georgia ; and there they will lie for ever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured J and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it, if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness, under salutary§ and necessary restraint, shall succeed to separate it | from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle | in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm | with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends | who gather round it: and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. * Alienation, change ef affection. t Nurtured, nourished, cherished. 1 Encomium, praise $ Salutary, safe, promoting good. 56 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. ment of Indians in it. — Chatham. Section 1. I cannot, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation* | on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilousf and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation:! the smoothness of flattery | cannot save us J in this rugged and- awful crisis. § It is now necessary to instruct the throne || | in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delu sion and darkness | which envelope it, and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support | in their mfatuation ?1T Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to give their support to measures | thus obtruded and forced upon them ? Measures, my lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt ! But yes- terday, and Britain might have stood | against the world ; now " none so poor as to do her reverence !"** Section 2. The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, areabettedfj against us, sup- plied with every military store, have their interest consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy — and ministers do not, and dare not interposef | with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad | is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honors the British troops | than I do ; I know their virtues and their valor ;§§ I know they can achieve ||]| anything | but impossibilities; and I know { that the conquest of British America j is an impossi- * Congratulation, a wishing of joy. ** Reverence, veneration, respect. t Periloxis, full of danger. tt Abetted, encouraged, aided, supported t Adulation, flattery, praise. tt Interpose, interfere. § Crisis, a critical time. §§ Valor, courage. II Tlirone, the seat of the king. ill Achieve, perform. f Infatuation, deprivation of reason, folly. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 57 bility. You cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there ? We do not know the worst; but we know | that in three campaigns | we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate* every assistance, and extend your traffic | to the shambles of every German despot ; your attempts will be for ever vain and impoteutf — doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary:}: aid | on which you rely ; for it irritates to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, § to overrun them | with the mercenary sons of rapine|| and plunder, devoting them and their possessions | to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never, nevei^, never ! Section 3. But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the dis- graces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate | to our arms | the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage ? — to call into civilized alliance, the wild and inhu- man inhabitant of the woods ? — to delegate | to the merciless Indian | the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the hor- rors of his barbarous war | against our brethren ? My lords, these enormitiesir cry aloud | for redress and punishment. But, my lords, this barbarous measure | has been defended, not only | on the principles of policy and necessity, but also | on those of morality ; " for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means | which God and nature have put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed** in this house, or in this country. * Accumulate, collect together. t Impotent, weak. % Mercenary, hired. § Adversary, an opponent, an enemy. II Rapine, plunder, violence. U Enormities, great crimes, acts of great wickedness. ** Avowed, declared openly. 58 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Section 4. My lords, I did not intend to encroach* so much | on your attention, but I cannot repress! my indignation — I feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon | as mem- bers of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against, such horrible barbarity ! — " That God and nature have put into our hands !" What ideas of God and nature | that. lord may entertain, I know not ; but T know, that such detestable prin- ciples | are equally abhorrent J to religion and humanity What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature [ to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! to the cannibal! sav- age, torturing, murdering, devouring his mangled victims! Such notions | shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand Section 5 I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops | to interpose the un- sullied§ sanctity of their lawn ; upon the judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. | I call upon the honor of your lordships, to reverence the digni- ty of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I invoke the genius of the constitution. To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood ! against whom ? — your Protestant brethren ! — to lav waste their country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name, by the aid and instrumentality j of these horrible hounds of war ! Spain | can no longer boast pre-eminence|| in barbarity. She | armed herself with bloodhounds, to extir- pated the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless, loose these dogs of war | against our countrymen in America, endeared to us j by every tie j that can sanctify** humanity. * Encroach, intrude. |j Pre-eminence, superiority, f Repress, restrain. IT Extirpate, root out, destroy. % Cannibal, one that eats human flesh. ** Sanctify, to make sacred. 6 Unsullied, not stained, pure. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 59 1 solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order of men | in the state, to stamp | upon this infamous procedure j the indelible* stigmaf | of the public abhorrence. More particularly, I call upon the holy prelates J of our religion | to do away this iniquity; let them perform a lustration, to purify the country | from this deep and deadly sin. My lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more ; but my feelings and indignation j were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head | upon my pillow, without giving vent | to my eternal abhorrence of such enormous§ | and preposterous|| principles. THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON. SPEECH IN FAVOR OF WAR WITH ENGLAND. Patrick Henri/. Section 1 Mr. President, it is natural to man | to indulge in the illu- sionsir of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes | against a pain- ful truth, and listen to the song of that siren,** till she transforms tis into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduousff struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things | which so nearly concern our tem- poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and that | is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future | but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know | what there has been | in the conduct of the British ministry | for the last ten years, to justify those hopes | with which gentlemen have been pleased to solaceJi them- selves and the house. Is it that insidious§§ smile | with whicb * Indelible, that cannot be blotted out. If Illusions, deceptive appearances. t Stigma, mark of disgrace. ** Siren, a goddess noted for singing. t Prelates, archbishops, or bishops ft Arduous, difficult. § Enormous, very wicked. $t Solace, comfort. |[ Preposterous, absurd. §§ Insidious, deceptive. 60 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. our petition | has been lately received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves | how this gracious re- ception of our petition | comports with those warlike prepara- tions | which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies | necessary to a work of love and reconcilia- tion ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in | to win back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These | are the imple- ments* of war and subjugation ;f the last arguments j to which kings resort. Section 2 I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martialj array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen as- sign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain | any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumu- lation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, which the British ministry | have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, w T e have been trying that | for the last ten years. Have we any- thing new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up | in every light | of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty | and humble supplication! What terms shall we find | which have not already been ex- hausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything | that could be done* to avert the storm | which is now coming on. We have pe- titioned, we have remonstrated,! we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves | before the throne, and have im- plored its interposition J to arrest the tyrannical hand of the ministryandparliament.il Our petitions have been slighted; * Implements, instruments. t Subjugation, the act of conquering or enslaving. t Martial, warlike. $ Remonstrate, to urge reasons against, to expostulate. |j Parliament, the legislature of Great Britain, composed of the House of Lords and the House of C ommoas. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 61 our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned with contempt | from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate* those inestimable privileges | for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- gle | in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon | until the glorious object of our contest | shall be obtained, we must fight; I re- peat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us ! Section 3. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger?. Will it be next week, or the next year ? Will it be | when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be sta- tioned in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolu- tion and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusivef phantomj of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us | hand and foot ? 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, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God | who presides§ over the destinies!] of nations, and who will raise up friends | to fight our battles for us. The bat- tle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant,ir the ac- tive, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we are base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. * Inviolate, uninjured. § Presides over, controls, directs, t Delusive, deceptive. || Destinies, fates, t Phantom, apparition, ghost. IT Vigilant, watchful. 6 62 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard | on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable,* and let it come ! 1 repeat it, sir, let it come ! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace ! but there is no peace ! The war is actually begun ! The next gale | that sweeps from the north | will bring to our ears | the clash of resounding arms ! Our breth- ren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery. * * * * I know not what course others may take ; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE D. Webster. Section 1. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart | to this vote ! It is true, indeed, that, in the be- ginning, we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divin- ity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England J has driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good | she has obstinately persisted, till independence | is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration ? Is any man so weak | as now to hope for a reconciliation with Eng- land, which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor ? Are not you, sir, who sit in that chair ; is not he, our venerable colleague! near you; are not both -^ready the proscribed^ and predestined§ objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws ? * Inevitable, unavoidable, \ Colleague, partner in office. % Proscribed, doomed, condemned. $ Predestined, predetermined, determined beforehand. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 63 Section 2. If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the measures of Parliament, Boston port-bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, and consent | that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country | and its rights | trodden down in the dust ? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation | ever en- tered into by men — that plighting,* before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the political hazardsf of the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives ? Section 3. I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general conflagration | sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot | or tittle | of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For myself, having twelve months ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget its cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver | in the support I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. Section 4. And if the war must go on, why put off longer the declara- tion of independence ? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. The nations will then treat} with us, which they never can do, while we acknowledge our- selves subjects | in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I main- tain that England, herself will sooner treat for peace with us | on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing§ her acts, || to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us | has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded | by submitting to that course of things | * Plighting, pledging. $ Repealing, annulling, making void. t Hazards, dangers. || Acts, laws % Treat, negotiate, transact national business. 6*4 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. which now predestines our independence, than by yielding the point in controversy | to her rebellious subjects. The for- mer she would regard | as the result of fortune ; the latter | she could feel j as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil* | to a national war ? And, since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy aU the benefits ot victory, if we gain the victory ? Section 5. If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. The cause | will raise up armies ; the cause | will create navies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will- carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of these colonies ; and 1 know | that resistance to British aggressionf | is deep and settled hi their hearts, and cannot be eradicated. Every colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the decla- ration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war | for restoration of privileges, for re- dress of grievances, for chartered}: immunities,§ held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire inde- pendence, and it will breathe into them anew | the breath of life. Section 6. Read this declaration at the head of the army ; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love of reli- gious liberty | will cling round it, resolved to stand or fall with it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon ; let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons | fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Con- cord — and the very walls | will cry out in its support. * Civil war, a war between people of the same country t Aggression, acts of violence. % Chartered, granted by a king, or legislature. % Immunities, privileges. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 65 Section 7. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see clear- ly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to see the time | when this declaration shall be made good. We may die ; die, colonists ; die, slaves ; die, it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of heaven j that my country shall re- quire the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready | at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But, while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free country. Section 8. But, whatever may be our fate, be assured | that this decla- ration | will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it, with thanksgiv- ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return | they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. — AH that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it ; and I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive or perish, I am for the declaration. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment ; — INDEPENDENCE NOW ; and INDEPENDENCE FOR EVER ! 6* 66 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. America. — C. Phillips, Section 1 The mention of America | has never failed to fill me I with the most lively emotion. In my earliest youth, that tender season | when impressions, at once the most permanent and the most powerful, are likely to be excited, the story of her then recent struggle [ raised a throb in every heart | that lov- ed liberty, and wrung a reluctant tribute | even from discom- fited oppression. I saw her spurning alike the luxuries that would enervate,* and the legions .| that would intimidate ;f dashing from her lips J the poisoned cup of European servi- tude ; and, through all the vicissitudes^ of her protracted§ con- flict, displaying a magnanimity|| | that defied misfortune, a moderation | that gave new grace to victory. It was the first vision of my childhood ; it will descend with me to the grave ******** Section 2. Search creation round, where can you find a country | that presents so subhme a view, so interesting an anticipation? What noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy !1J What a wise equalization of every political advantage ! The oppressed of all countries, the martyrs** of every creed, || the innocent victimsJt of despotic arrogance§§ or superstitious frenzy,|||| may there find a refuge ; his industry encouraged, his piety respected, his ambition animated ; with no restraint | but those laws, which are the same to all, and no distinction but * Ener'vate [accented on the second syllable], deprive of strength or vigor, weaken, t Intimidate, make fearful, frighten. X Vicissitudes, changes. § Protracted, lengthened. || Magnanimity, greatness of mind. IT Policy, system of government. ** Martyrs, those who are put to death for their opinions tt Creed, belief. XX Despotic, tyrannical, oppressive. $§ Arrogance, haughtiness. Qli Frenzy, madness SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 67 that, which his merit may originate. Who can deny | that the existence of such a country j presents a subject for human con- gratulation ! Who can deny, that its gigantic advancement | offers a field for the most rational conjecture ! At the end of the next century,* if she proceeds [ as she seems to promise, what a wondrous spectacle may she not exhibit ! Who shall say j for what purpose | a mysterious Providence may not have designed her ! Who shall say | that when, in its follies or its crimes, the old world may have interred! all the pride of its power, and all the pomp of its civilisation, human nature | may not find its destined renovation J in the new ' Section 3. For myself, I have no doubt of it. I have not the least doubt, that when our temples and our trophies | shall have mouldered into dust — when the glories of our name | shall be but the legend§ of tradition, and the light of our achieve- ments | only live in song, philosophy will rise again | in the sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle | at the urn of her Washington. Is this the vision of a romantic fancy? Is it even improbable? Is it half so improbable as the events, which j for the last twenty years | have rolled like successive || tides | over the surface of the European world, each erasing!! the impression | that preceded it ? Thousands upon thousands, Sir, I know there are, who will consider this supposition | as wild and whimsical; but they have dwelt | with little reflection | upon the records of the past. They have but ill-observed the never-ceasing progress of national rise | and national ruin. They form their judgment | on the deceitful stability of the present hour, never consid- ering the innumerable monarchies and republics, in former days, apparently as permanent, their very existence | become now the subjects of speculation** — I had almost said, of scep- ticism, ft Section 4. I appeal to History ! Tell me, thou reverend chroniclerit of • Century, a hundred years. IT Erasing, blotting out. t Interred, buried. ** Speculation, consideration. X Renovation, renewal. ft Scepticism, doubt. § Legend, fable. \% Chronicler, historian. i Successive, following in order DO ELOCUTION MADE EASY. the grave, can all the illusions of ambition realized, can all the wealth of an universal commerce, can all the achievements of successful heroism, or all the establishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? Alas ! Troy thought so once ; yet the land of Priam lives only in song ! Thebes thought so once, yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very tombs | are but as the dust | they were vainly intended to commemorate. So thought Palmyra — where is she ? So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan, yet Leonidas | is trampled | by the timid slave, and Athens insulted | by the servile, mindless,* and enervatef Ottoman. In his hurried march Time has but look- ed J at their imagined immortality! — and all their vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of his footsteps ! The days of their glory | are as if they had never been ; and the island, that was then a speck, rude and neglected | in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity§ of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the in- spiration of their bards ! Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent | as she appears, may not one day be what Athens is, and the young America | yet soar to be what Athens WAS? FORTIETH LESSON. rolla's address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. Section 1. My brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame ! — can Rolla's words add vigor j to the virtuous ener- gies | which inspire your hearts ? — No ! — You have judged as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea | by which these bold invaders | would delude you. Your generous spirit | has com- pared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours. * Mindless, heedless, ignorant. X Immortality, endless existence, t Enervate, powerless. § Ubiquity, existence everywhere. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION Di* They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plun- der, and extended rule ; — we, for our country, our altars,* and our homes. They follow an adventurer | whom they fear, and obey a power | which they hate : — we serve a monarch whom we love — a God whom we adore. Where'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress ! Where'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. Section 2. They boast [ they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error ! — yes : — they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves j the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection — Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs — covering and devouring them ! They call on us | to barter all the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better | which they promise. Be our plain answer this : — The throne we honor | is the people's choice — the laws we reverence j are our brave fathers' legacyf — the faith we follow J teaches us to live in bonds of charity | with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss | beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, too, we seek no change ; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us FORTY-FIRST LESSON. WASHINGTON. C, PhUUpS, Section 1. Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet,| which, though it sprang in America, is no exotic. § Virtue planted it, and it is naturalized everywhere. I see you anticipate me — I see you concur with me, that it matters very little what spot may be the birth-place of such a man as Washington. No people can claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon|| of Provi- dence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and his resi- * Altar, a place for sacrifice or worship. $ Exotic, a foreign plant. \ Legacy, what is left by will. I| Boon, a gift, x Chaplet, a wreath of flowers. 70 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. deuce creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was the climate that it cleared! how bright, in the brow of the firmament, was the planet which it revealed to us ! Section 2. In the production of Washington, it does really appear | as if Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtues of the ancient world | were but so many studies pre- paratory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances, no doubt there were, splendid exemplifications* of some singular qualification : Csesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Han- nibal was patient; but it was reserved for Washington | to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfection of every master. As a general, he marshalled the peasantf into a veteran,^ and supplied by discipline | the absence of experience ; as a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet§ J into the most comprehensive system of general advantage ; and such was the wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that, to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the character of the sage !|| A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime of blood; a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and his country called him to the command. Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory re- turned it. If he had paused here, history might have doubted | what station to assign him : whether at the head of her citi- zens or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation Section 3. Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- * Exemplifications, illustrations by examples. § Cabinet, a council room, t Peasant, one who labors in the country. |j Sage, a wise man t Veteran, an old soldier. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 71 sphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement of domestic life | to the adoration of a land he might be almost said to have created ! " How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page, Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage? All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, Far less than all thou hast forborne to be !" Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused of par- tiality | in his estimate of America. Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven | yielded to your philosophy ! The temptations of earth | could not seduce your patriotism. FORTY-SECOND LESSON. SCOTLAND.— Fldgg. Section 1. Statesmen — scholars — divines — heroes and poets — do you want exemplars* worthy of study and imitation ? Where will you find them brighter than in Scotland ? Where can you find them purer than in Scotland ? Here no Solon, indulging imagi- nation, has pictured the perfectibility! of man. No Lycurgus, viewing him through the medium of human frailty alone, has left for his government an iron code J graven on eternal adamant. § No Plato, dreaming in the luxurious gardens of the Academy, has fancied what he should be, and bequeathed a republic of love. But sages, knowing their weakness, have appealed to his understanding, cherished his virtues, and chastised his vices. Friends of learning ! would you do homage | at the shrine o\ literature ? Would you visit her clearest founts ? — Go to Scot- land. Are you philosophers, seeking to explore the hidden mysteries of mind ? — Bend to the genius of Stewart ! Student, merchant, or mechanic, do you seek usefulness ? — Consult the pages of Black and of Adam Smith. Grave barrister ! would you know the law — the true, the sole expression of the people's will ? — There stands the mighty Mansfield ! • Exemplars, patterns, models. % Code, a system of laws, t Perfectibility, capacity for becoming perfect. $ Adamant, a very hard 72 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Section 2. Servants of Him, whose name is above every other name, and not to be mentioned — recur to days | that are past: to days | that can never be blotted from the history of the church. Visit the mountains of Scotland ; contemplate the stern Came ronian, the rigid covenanter, the enduring puritan. Follow them to their burrows | beneath the earth ; to their dark, bleak caverns in the rocks. See them hunted like beasts of prey. See them emaciated,* worn with disease, clung with famine — yet laboring | with supernatural! zeal — in feeding the hungry | with that bread j which gives life for ever more. Go view them, and when you preach faith, hope, charity, fortitude and long-suffering — forget them not; the meek, the bold, the patient, gallant Puritans of Scotland. Land of the mountain, the torrent and dale !— Do we look for high examples | of noble daring ? Where shall we find them brighter than in Scotland ? From the " bonny} highland heather"§ of her lofty summits, to the modest lily of the vale, not a flower | but has blushed with patriot blood. Section 3. From the proud foaming crest of Sol way, to the calm polish- ed breast of Loch Katrine, not a river or lake but has swelled with the life-tide of freemen ! Would you witness greatness ? — Contemplate a Wallace and a Bruce. They fought not for honors, for party, for conquest. 'Twas for their country and their country's good ; religion, liberty and law. Would you ask for chivalry ? — that high and delicate sense of honor, which deems a stain upon one's country — as individual dis grace ; that moral courage | which measures danger, and meets it against known odds ; that patriot valor, which would rather repose [ on a death-bed of laurels | than flourish in wealth and power | under the night-shade of despotism ? — Citizen soldier, turn to Lochiel ; " proud bird of the mountain !" Though pierced with the usurper's|| arrow, his plumage still shines ( * Emaciated, reduced in flesh, lean. t Supernatural, beinp beyond the laws of nature, miraculous. , % Bonny, beautiful. $ Heather, a plant, bearing a beautiful flower. j| Usurper, one who takes possession wrongfully SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 73 through the cloud of oppression, lighting to honor all | who aobly dare to " do or die." Where then can we better look | for all that is worthy of honest ambition, than to Scotland ? FORTY-THIRD LESSON. THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. Burke. Section 1. It is now sixteen or seventeen years J since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness,* at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, de- corating and cheering the elevated sphere | she just began to move in — glittering like the morning star ; full of life, and splen- dor, and joy. Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, to contemplate | without emotion that elevation | and that fall ! Little did I dream | that when she added titles of veneration | to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidotef against dis- grace | concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters heaped upon her — in a nation of gallant men ; in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers. % I thought ten thousand swords | must have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a look | that threatened her with insult. Section 2. But the age of chivalry§ J is gone. That of sophisters,|| eco- nomists, and calculators, has succeeded ; and the glory of Eu- rope j is extinguished for ever. Never, never more, shall we behold that generous loyaltyir to rank and sex, that proud sub- * Dauphiness, a female relative of the King of France, who, by law. is entitled to succeed him or become a queen after his death, f Antidote, remedy. % Cavaliers, knights, gallant and noble men. $ Chivalry, knighthood, the dignity of a knight. D Sophistei s, artful, deceptive reasoners. U Loyalty, fidelity, regard, usually it signifies fidelity to the king. 7 74 ELOCUTION MADE EASY mission, that cL'gnified obedience, that subordination of fhe heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of aii exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise — is gone ! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, which felt a stain like a wound; which inspired courage, whilst it mitigated ferocity ; which ennobled whatever it touch- ed; and under which vice itself | lost half its evil, by losing all its grossness. FORTY-FOURTH LESSON. NATIONAL GLORY. Clay, Section 1. We are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have shown | that we have lost nothing | in rights, territory, 01 honor; nothing | for which we ought to have contended, ac cording to the principles of the gentlemen J on the other side, or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the war ? Let any man | look at the degraded condition of this country | before the war, the scorn of the universe, the con- tempt of ourselves, and tell me | if we have gained nothing by the war. What is our present situation ? Respectability and character abroad, security and confidence at home. If we have not obtained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of retribution, our character and constitution | are placed on a solid basis,* never to be shaken. The glory | acquired by our gallant tars, by our Jacksons and our Browns on the land — is that nothing ? True, we had our vicissitudes: there were humiliating events | which the patriot cannot review | without deep regret — but the great ac- count, when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our favor. Is there a man | who would obliterate j from the proud pages of our history | the brilliant achievements of Jack- eon, Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes | on land and sea, whom I cannot enumerate ? Is there a man | who could not * Basis foundation SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 75 desire a participation | in the national glory acquired by the war ? Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may be condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine patriot. Section 2. What do I mean | by national glory ? Glory such as Hull Jackson, and Perry | have acquired. And are gentlemen in- sensible to their deeds — to the value of them | in animating the country | in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Ther- mopylae | preserve Greece but once ? Whilst the Mississippi | continues to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the Alleghanies | to her Delta and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth of January j shall be remembered, and the glory of that day [ shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn freemen | in driving the presumptuous invader | from our country's soil. Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility* to feelings inspir- ed | by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, afford them no pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice to the country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has its beneficial influence. A nation's character | is the sum of its splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony,! the nation's inheritance. They awe foreign powers — they arouse and animate our own people. I love true glory. It is this sen- timent | which ought to be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will finally conduct this nation | to that height | to which God | and nature | have destined it. FORTY-FIFTH LESSON. THE NECESSITY OF UNION. Webster. Section 1. 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. J It is to that union | we * Insensibility, want of feeling, indifference. f Patrimony, an estate derived from a father or other ancestor. % Federal union, [here] signifies the union of the United States. 76 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. owe our safety at heme, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that union | that we are chiefly indebted | 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 adversity. It had its origin | in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign* influences, these great interests | immediate- ly awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth | with newness of life. Every year of its duration | has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility | and its blessings; and | although our ter- ritory | 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. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the union, to see what might lie hidden | in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds | that unite us together | shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself | to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor | in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people | when it shall be broken up and destroyed Section 2. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Be- yond that J I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant, that on my vision never may be opened | what lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining | on the broken and dis- honored fragments | of a once glorious union ; on states dis- severed,! discordant, belligerent ;| on a land rent with civil§ feuds, || or drenched, it may be, in fraternalir blood ! Let their * Benign, kind, generous. § Civil, being in our own country. ] Dissevered, divided. \\ Feuds, quarrels, contentions. ; Belligerent, carrying on war. f Fraternal, of brothers. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 7? last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous* ensignf of the republic, now known and honored | throughont the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies stream- ing | in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured — bearing | for its motto, no such miser- able interrogatory as — What is all this worth? Nor those other words of delusion and folly — liberty first, and union afterwards, but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment dear to every true American heart — liberty and union, now and for ever, one and insepa- rable !f FORTY-SIXTH LESSON. THE IMPORTANCE OF PRESERVING OUR FORM OF GOVERN- MENT. — Webster. Section 1 Sir, in our endeavors to maintain our existing forms of gov- ernment, we are acting j not for ourselves alone, but for the great cause of constitutional liberty | all over the globe. We are trustees, holding a sacred treasure, in which all the lovers of freedom have a stake. Not only in revolutionized France, where there are no longer subjects, where the monarch can no longer say, he is the state ; not only in reformed England, where our principles, our institutions, our practice of free gov- ernment | are now daily quoted and commended ; but in the depths of Germany, and among the desolate fields, and the still smoking ashes of Poland, prayers are uttered | for the pre- servation of our union | and happiness. We are surrounded, sir, by a cloud of witnesses. The gaze of the sons of liberty, everywhere, is upon us, anxiously, intently, upon us. It may see us fall | in the struggle for our constitution | and govern ment, but heaven forbid | that it should see us recreant. * Gorgeous, splendid 1 Inseparable, that cannot be separated t Ensign, flag 78 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Section 2. At least, sir, let the star of Massachusetts be the last | which shall be seen to fall from heaven, and to plunge | into the utter darkness of disunion. Let her shrink back, let her hold others back, if she can ; at any rate | let her keep herself back from this gulf, full, at once, of fire and | of blackness ; yes, sir, as far as human foresight can scan, or human imagination fathom, full of the fire and the blood of civil war, and of the thick darkness | of general political disgrace, ignominy* and ruin. Though the worst happen | that can happen, and though we be not able to prevent the catastrophe, f yet, let her maintain her own integrity, her own high honor, her own unwavering fidelity, so that | with respect and decency, though with a broken and a bleeding heart, she may pay the last tribute | to a glorious, departed, free constitution. FORTY-SEVENTH LESSON. THE MONUMENT ON BUNKER.' S HILL. — Webster. Section 1. We know | that the record of illustrious actions | is most safely deposited | in the universal remembrance | of mankind We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surface | could still contain but part of that, which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges herself | with making known to all future times. We know | that no inscription, on entablatures^ | less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events | we commemorate | where it has not already gone ; and that no structure | which shall not outlive the duration of letters | and knowledge amongmen, can prolong the memorial. § But our object is, by this edifice, to show our deep sense of the value | and importance of the achievements | of our ances- * Ignominy, disgrace, infamy. \ Catastrophe, calamity, disaster. t Entablature, a part of a column. § Memorial, something to preserve the remembrance SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 79 tors ; and | by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a similar regard, to the principles of the revolution. Human beings are composed not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment ; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied, which is appro- priated to the purpose j of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling | in the heart. Section 2. Let it not be supposed | that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work | to the spirit of national independence, and we wish | that the light of peace | may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our conviction | of the unmeasured benefit | which has been con- ferred on our land, and of the happy influences, which have been produced, by the same events, on the general interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which must be for ever dear | to us, and our posterity. We wish | that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eyes hither, may behold | that the place is not undistinguished | where the first great battle of the revolution | was fought. We wish, that this structure | may proclaim the magnitude and import- ance of that event | to every class and every age. We wish, that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection | from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age | may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections | which it suggests. We wish, that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish, that, in those days of disaster, which, as they come upon all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism | may turn its eyes hither, and be assured | that the foundations of our national power | still stand strong. We wish, that this column, rising towards heaven | among the pointed spires of so many temples dedi- cated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish finally, that the last object f on the sight of him | who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden him | who revisits it, may be something | which shall remind him | of the liberty 80 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. and glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in nis coming; let the earliest light of morning gild it, and parting 02 ELOCUTION MADE EASY For thee, the Spartan youth of old, To death devoted, fell ! Thy spirit made the Roman bold, And fired the patriot Tell ! Our sires, on Bunker, fought for thee— ■ Undaunted fought, and we are free ! Run up your starry flag on high ! No storm shall rend its folds ; On, like a meteor, through the sky, Its steady course it holds. Thus high in heaven our flag unfurled — Go, bear it, Freedom, round the world ! SIXTY-FIFTH LESSON. on to the strife ! — Anonymous, On, on to the just and glorious strife ! With your swords your freedom shielding — Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life ; But die, at least, unyielding. On to the strife ! for t'were far more meet To sink with the foes who bay you, Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrant's feet. And smile on the swords that slay you. Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! Strike ! for your homes and liberty, And the heaven you worship o'er you ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 103 SIXTV-SIXTH LESSON. THE BATTLE FIELD.— Patten. ###### Forward ! — 'mid the battle's hum Roughly rolls the daring drum. Victory, with hurried breath, Calls ye, from her mouths of death : War, with hand of crimson stain, Waves ye to the front again. Onward ! ere the field is won — Onward ! ere the fight is done ! Forward ! raise the banner high I Toss its spangles to the sky, Let its eagle, reeking red, Float above the foeman's head ; Let its stripes of red and white Blind again his dazzled sight. Onward ! ere the field is won — Onward ! ere the fight is done ! Forward ! to the front again ! Urge the steed and loose the rein J Spur amid the rattling peal ! Charge amid the storm of steel ! O'er the stream, and from the glen. Cowards watch the strife of men. Onward ! ere the field is won — Onward ! ere the fight is done 1 104 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. SIXTY-SEVENTH LESSON. the pilgrims. — Everett. Section 1. Let us now advert to that period | when our Pilgrim Fathers | left their country and their homes | for this then unknown shore. Methinks I see that one solitary, adven- turous vessel, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound | across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns | rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them | on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now — scantily supplied with provisions, crowd- ed | almost to suffocation | in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route ; — and now driven in fury | before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy waves. The awful voice of the storm | howls through the rigging. The laboring masts | seem straining from their base ; — the dismal sound of the pumps j is heard ; — the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; — the ocean breaks, and settles | with engulfing floods | over the floating deck, and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landing at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, — weak and weary from the voyage, — poorly armed, scantily provisioned # # * — without shelter, — without means, sur- rounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any prin ciple of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 105 in how many months | were they all swept off | by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits | of New England % Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties | had not smiled, languish on the distant coast ? Section 2. Student of history, compare for me | the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and chil- dren ? was it hard labor and spare meals ? — was it disease 1 was it the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments, at the recollection of the loved and left beyond the sea 1 was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company | to their melancholy fate ? And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possi- ble, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy | not so much of admiration | as of pity, there has gone forth a pro- gress | so steady, a growth | so wonderful, an expansion | so ample, a reality | so important, a promise | yet to be fulfilled, so glorious 1 SIXTY-EIGHTH LESSON. THE SEVERANCE OF SOUTH CAROLINA FROM THE union. — Grimke. Section 1. I ask no pardon, I make no apology | for the boldness and frankness | with which I speak. I am still | a freeman : and the convention | may be assured, that so long as the liberty 106 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. of speech | and the liberty of the press remain, there are thousands | who will speak and write | as fearlessly | as I do. And have they yet to learn, that the confiscation of propeity, the imprisonment of the body, nay, the loss of life itself, have no terrors | for the brave and the free 1 Have they yet to learn | that the dungeon and the scaffold | are the pageantry of tyrants, in the eyes of the martyr to civil or religious liberty ? Have they yet to learn, that they may torture the body, but cannot subdue the soul 1 that they may immolate the freeman, a victim to their power, but cannot make him the slave of their will 1 Have they, indeed, yet to learn, after all the solemn lessons | that Liberty | has taught, amid the fires of persecution | and the blood of her martyred chil- dren — that the freeman, like the Christian, counts property liberty, and life, as dust and ashes, in comparison with his principles and independence % Section 2. I have studied in vain | the history of free communities, and especially of this country ; and I have loved and vene- rated in vain | the noble qualities of American and of Caro- linian character, if there be not thousands | in this State., who are ready | in the same cause, to yield up property | to your acts of confiscation, liberty | to the loathsomeness of your dungeons, and life itself | to the tragedy of your scaf- folds. The punishments | you may inflict, may be ignomini- ous in your eyes ; but posterity will honor them j as the suf- ferings of the virtuous free. You may consign your victim | to the death of the malefactor ; but your own children | shall acknowledge his title | even to their gratitude and admira tion. You may follow him | with scorn and execrations to the gallows : — May he be strengthened from above | to make the last act of his life, a prayer for his destroyers ! You SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 107 may brand the grave of your victim, as the grave of the traitor; but the very next age | will hallow it as the bed of glory. SIXTY-NINTH LESSON. THE CHARGE. Pertival. The horn and the trumpet are ringing afar, As the summons to battle are sounding ; And the steed, as he catches the signal of war, In the pride of his spirit is bounding. Shrill it echoes afar, over hill and o'er plain, And the wide distant mountains repeat it again ; And the shout of the warrior, and nearer the song, Peal aloud, as the glittering bands are hurrying along . As on, on, on, on pours the tide of fight, Still aloft floats the tossing flag, in the glance of morning's light. We leap to our saddles, we range us in line, As the voice of the trumpet is calling ; On the crown of yon ridge, bright their drawn sabres shine ; Down its slope, like a flood, they are falling. " Give the spur to the charge, ere the foeman is nigh : Rush amain, as the forest rings loud with your cry : Speed on to the shock, in his midway career — For our sires still were first in fight ; they never thought of fear !" So on, on, on, on, o'er the sounding plain, To the wild conflict fierce they rush, and together dash I 108 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. SEVENTIETH LESSON. THE IMPORTANCE OF A FIRM NATIONAL CHARAC ter. — Maxcy. Section 1. The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude | to her destruc- tion. Behold the once proud fabric | of a Roman empire — an empire [ carrying its arts and arms | into every part | of the eastern continent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms | dragged at the wheels | of her triumphal chariots ; her eagle | waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory 1 Extin- guished forever. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her philosophers, her orators, her generals ? Go to their solitary tombs and inquire. She lost her national character and her destruction | followed. The ramparts of her national pride | were broken down, and Vandalism, desolated her classic fields. Citizens | will lose their respect and confidence | in our government, if it does not extend over them | the shield of an honorable national character. Corruption | will creep in | and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious leaders | will seize upon the favorable moment. The mad enthusiasm for revolution | will call into action ] the irritated spirit of our nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our coun- trymen | may yet glitter | on our mountains, their blood may yet | crimson our plains. Such — the warning voice of all antiquity, the example of all republics proclaim — may be our fate. But | let us nc longer | indulge th^.se gloomy anticipations. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 109 Section 2. The commencement of our liberty | presages the dawn | of a brighter period | to the world. That bold, enterprising spirit [ which conducted our heroes | to peace and safety, and gave us a lofty rank | amid the empires of the world, still animates the bosoms | of their descendants. Look back to that moment | when they unbarred the dungeons of the slave, and dashed his fetters | to the earth ; when the sword of a Washington | leaped from its scabbard | to revenge the slaughter of our countrymen. Place their example | before you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom | flash across your minds, and the sacred altars of your liberty, crowned with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on the vir- tue, the courage, the patriotism, and the strength | of our country, we may expect [ our national character | will be- come more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may hail the age | as not far distant, when will be heard, as the proudest exclamation of man : I am an American. SEVENTY-FIRST LESSON. old ironsides. — Holmes. Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rang the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below. 10 110 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. No more shall feel the victor's tread ; No more the conquered knee ; The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea. Oh ! better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave : — Her thunders shook the mighty deep. And there should be her grave ! Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms, — The lightning, and the gale ! SEVENTY-SECOND LESSON. leonidas. — Croly. Shout for the mighty men, Who died along this shore — "Who died within this mountain's glen For never nobler chieftain's head Was laid on Valor's crimson bed, Nor ever prouder gore Sprang forth, than theirs who won the day Upon thy strand, Thermopylae ! Shout for the mighty men, Who, on the Persian tents, Like lions from their midnight den Bounding on the slumbering deer, Rushed — a storm of sword and spear — Like the roused elements, Let loose from an immortal hand, To chasten or to crush a land ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. Ill But there are none to hear ; Greece is a hopeless slave. Leonidas ! no hand is near To lift thy fiery falchion now ; No warrior makes the warrior's vow Upon thy sea-washed grave. The voice that should be raised by men, Must now be given by wave and glen. And it is given ! — the surge — The tree — the rock — the sand — On Freedom's kneeling spirit urge, In sounds that speak but to the free, The memory of thine and thee ! The vision of thy band Still gleams within the glorious dell, Which their gore hallowed, as it fell ! And is thy grandeur done ? Mother of men like these ! Has not thy outcry gone, Where justice has an ear to hear ? — Be holy ! God shall guide thy spear ; Till in thy crimsoned seas Are plunged the chain and scimitar, Greece shall be a new-born star ! SEVENTY-THIRD LESSON. " to arms !" — Park Benjamin. Awake ! arise, ye men of might 1 The glorious hour is nigh — Your eagle pauses in his flight, And screams his battle-cry. 1 1 2 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. From north to south, from east to west, Send back an answering cheer, And say farewell to peace and rest, And banish doubt and fear. Arm ! arm ! your country bids you arm ! Fling out your banners free — Let drum and trumpet sound alarm. O'er mountain, plain, and sea ! # # # # # # # Go, vindicate your country's fame ! Avenge your country's wrong ! The sons should own a deathless name, To whom such sires belong. The kindred of the noble dead As noble deeds should dare: The fields whereon their blood was shed. A deeper stain must bear. To arms ! to arms ! ye men of might 1 Away from home, away ! The first and foremost in the fight Are sure to win the day ! SEVENTY-FOURTH LESSON. make way for liberty. — Montgomery. " Make way for liberty !" — he cried ; Made way for liberty, and died ! It must not be : this day, this hour, Annihilates the oppressor's power ! All Switzerland is in the field, She will not fly, she cannot yield — SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 113 She must not fall ; her "better fate Here gives her an immortal date. Few were the numbers she could boast ; But every freeman was a host, And felt as though himself were he, On whose sole arm hung victory. It did depend on one indeed ; Behold him — Arnold Winkelried ! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name. Unmarked he stood amid the throng, In rumination deep and long, Till you might see, with sudden grace, The very thought come o'er his face ; And, by the motion of his form, Anticipate the bursting storm ; And, by the uplifting of his brow, Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. But 't was no sooner thought than done ! The field was in a moment won : — " Make way for liberty !" he cried, Then ran, with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friends to clasp ; Ten spears he swept within his grasp : " Make way for liberty!" he cried, Their keen points met from side to side ; He bowed amongst them like a tree, And thus made way for liberty. Swift to the breach his comrades fly j " Make way for liberty !" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; While, instantaneous as his fall, Kout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 10* 114 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. An earthquake could not overthrow A city with a surer blow. Thus Switzerland again was free ; Thus death made way for liberty ! SEVENTY-FIFTH LESSON. THE EFFICIENCY OF WOMAN. — J. f$. Jones. Under the guidance of Divine Providence, it has been the lot of woman to occupy an important position, and to exercise an imposing influence, in all reforms of modern times ; but particularly so in the events that have marked the history of our own country. To her perseverance and zeal are we in- debted for the means that enabled the energetic and philoso- phical Columbus to prosecute his first adventurous voyage over unknown seas, in search of a land that was deemed to have no existence, but in the imagination of a few visionary enthusiasts. The first Pilgrims were induced to seek a home upon that shore her munificence had aided to discover ; and her forbearance and devotion cheered that home, softened the bitterness of exile, and awoke new hopes, new ideas, new objects, which eventually resulted in preserving the nucleus of a mighty nation, whose power is hereafter to rule the des- tinies and shape the institutions of civilized man. Shall we turn over a few pages more of our national his- tory, and observe the young giant of the "West she had as- sisted to rear in the wilderness, preparing to combat against the Colossus of the Old World, in defence of the rights of man and the liberty of our species. Do we find woman wanting at this time, although she was well aware that the struggle was to her to be one of privation, affliction, and dis- tress, in which the dearest ties would be severed, and the holiest associations of religion and kindred scattered to the wind by the bloody hand of carnage and devastation 7 No, SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 115 in all things the women of the Revolution were true to their country, to their God, and to themselves. The same fair hand that girded the sabre on the soldier of Freedom, sought upon the blood-stained field for the wounded, and crowned with victorious laurel the brow of the triumphant warrior. Nor did her exertions in her country's cause cease when suc- cess crowned our efforts, and peace, with her " downy pinion," spread repose over an exhausted and distressed land. A mighty wilderness was to be subdued, and the fertile and bounteous West offered her allurements to the hardy and adventurous citizen : again we see woman forsaking the ease and luxury of refinement to be the companion of the pioneer, who, guided by the star of a nation's destiny, onward works his way, advancing Christianity and civilization even to the far-off shores of the Pacific Ocean ; yes, even there, amidst the rank foliage of the primitive forests, surrounded by the cunning and treacherous aborigines, is woman to be found, assisting man in his toil, cheering his home, enliven- ing his fireside, nursing him in sickness, consoling him in affliction, and rejoicing in his success ; and now that cities, towns and villages abound, this great West offers to the op- pressed of every nation a home, where, free from tyranny and its concomitant evils, they may in peace reap the fruit of their industry, and worship God according to the dictates of conscience. But a new victory is now to be achieved, new trophies are to be gained, the physical obstacles that stood in the path of our national greatness have been sub- dued, and the progressive spirit of our race has directed their energies towards the subjugation of vice, and that triumph of moralprinciple that alone can render a people mighty and happy. 116 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. SEVENTY-SIXTH LESSON. ye sons of sires. — Percival. Ye sons of sires, who fought and bled For liberty and glory, Whose fame shall ever wider spread Till Time is bent and hoary — Awake to meet the invading foe ! Rouse at the call of danger ! Beat down again his standard low, And backward hurl the stranger ! They knew no fear, those sires of old — 'Mid swords and bayonets clashing, Still high they bore their banner's fold, Its stars, like lightnings flashing. Be like those sires ! — With freeborn might Renew the deeds of story ! Who lives, shall win a wreath of light — Who falls, shall sleep in glory ! SEVENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. fourth of july. — Mrs. Sigonrney. Wild was the battle strife, And loud the threat of foes, When Liberty to healthful life With our young country rose ; But now her banner proud Floats high, from zone to zone, A constellation on the cloud By all the nations known. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 117 And we have come, to greet The birth-day of our land, With joyous hearts, and thronging feet, A young and happy hand. No warrior's shout is poured To daunt these festal hours ; Instead of flashing spear and sword, We bring the tinted flowers. Like them our love shall root In sunbeam and in blast, And richly bend with patriot fruit While fleeting life shall last. SEVENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. the survivors of the revolution. — E. Everett. Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, the men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, stood for- ward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly endeavor- ing to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of their exploits. The efforts of a life would scarce suffice to paint out this picture, in all its astonishing incidents, in all its mingled colors of sublimity and wo, of agony and triumph. But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice of our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the soil which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in their proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high-souled day. The generation of contemporary worthies is gone ; the crowd of the unsignalized great and good disappears ; and the leaders in war as well as council are seen, in Fancy's eye, to take their stations on the mount of Remembrance. They come from the embattled cliffs of Abraham ; they start from the heaving sods of Bunker's Hill ; they gather ll8 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. from the blazing lines of Saratoga and Yorktown, from the blood-dyed waters of the Brandywine, from the dreary snows of Valley Forge, and all the hard-fought fields of the war. With all their wounds and all their honors, they rise and plead with us for their brethren who survive ; and bid us, if indeed we cherish the memory of those who bled in our cause, to show our gratitude, not by sounding words, but by stretching out the strong arm of the country's pros- perity, to help the veteran survivors gently down to their graves. SEVENTY-NINTH LESSON. LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. Moore. From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly ? For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? Hark ! hark ! 'tis the trumpet, the call of the brave, The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. Our country lies bleeding — oh ! fly to her aid ; One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly % For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die 1 In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains — The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains ! On, on to the combat ! the heroes that bleed For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. And oh ! even if Freedom from this world be driven Despair not — at least we shall find her in heaven. In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains, The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 119 EIGHTIETH LESSON. ODE FOR INDEPENDENCE. When Freedom, midst the battle storm, Her weary head reclined, And round her fair, majestic form, Oppression fain had 'twined, Amid the din beneath the cloud, Great Washington appeared, With daring hand rolled back the shroud, And thus the sufferer cheered : u Spurn, spurn despair ! be great, be free ! With giant strength arise ; Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, Thy flag plant in the skies ! Clothe, clothe thyself in Glory's robe, Let stars thy banners gem ; Rule, rule the sea — possess the globe — Wear Victory's diadem ! u Go and proclaim a world is born, Another orb gives light ; Another sun illumes the morn, Another star the night : Be just, be brave ! and let thy name Henceforth Columbia be ; Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame, The wreath of Liberty." He said — and lo ! the stars of night Forth to her banner flew ; And morn, with pencil dipp'd in light, Her blushes on it drew ; Columbia's eagle seized the prize, And, gloriously unfurled, Soared with it to his native skies, And waved it o'er the world. 120 SELECTIONS FOR READING. CHAPTER XII. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Note.— The sign of the rhetorical pause ( | ) is omitted in the following selections, as a dne attention to it in the foregoing, will enable the pupil to make the proper pau- ses without it. EIGHTY-FIRST LESSON. MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. W, Irving. I am now alone in my chamber. The family have long since retired. I have heard their steps die away, and the doors clap to after them. The murmur of voices and the peal of remote laughter no longer reach the ear. The clock from the church, in which so many of the former inhabitants of this house lie buried, has chimed the awful hour of midnight. I have sat by the window and mused upon the dusky land- scape, watching the lights disappearing one by one from the distant village ; and the moon rising in her silent majesty, and leading up all the silver pomp of heaven. As I have gazed upon these quiet groves and shadowing lawns, silvered over and imperfectly lighted by streaks of dewy moonshine, my mind has been crowded by " thick coming fancies" concerning those spiritual beings which m , Walk the earth Unseen both when we wake and when we sleep." Are there, indeed, such beings ? Is this space between us and the Deity filled up by innumerable orders of spiritual beings, forming the same gradations between the human soul and divine perfection, that we see prevailing from humanity down to the meanest insect ? It is a sublime and beautiful doctrine inculcated by the early fathers, that there are guardian ^angels appointed to watch over cities and nations, to take care of good men, and to guard and guide the steps of helpless in- fancy. Even the doctrine of departed spirits returning to visit the scenes and beings which were dear to them during the bodies' existence, though it has been debased by the absurd ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 121 superstitions of the vulgar, in itself is awfully solemn and sub- lime. However lightly it may be ridiculed, yet, the attention invo- luntarily yielded to it whenever it is made the subject of serious discussion, and its prevalence in all ages and countries, even among newly discovered nations that have had no pre- vious interchange of thought with other parts of the world, prove it to be one of those mysterious and instinctive beliefs to which, if left to ourselves, we should naturally incline. In spite of all the pride of reason and philosophy, a vague doubt will still lurk in the mind, and perhaps will never be eradicated, as it is a matter that does not admit of positive de- monstration. Who yet has been able to comprehend and de- scribe the nature of the soul ; its mysterious connection with the body ; or in what part of the frame it is situated ? We know merely that it does exist : but whence it came, and when it entered into us, and how it is retained, and where it is seated, and how it operates, are all matters of mere speculation, and contradictory theories. If, then, we are thus ignorant of this spiritual essence, even while it forms a part of ourselves, and is continually present to our consciousness, how can we pre- tend to ascertain or deny its powers and operations, when re- leased from its fleshly prison-house ? Everything connected with our spiritual nature is full of doubt and difficulty. " We are fearfully and wonderfully made ;" we are surrounded by mysteries, and we are mysteries even to ourselves. It is more the manner in which this superstition has been degraded, than its intrinsic absurdity, that has brought it into contempt. Raise it above the frivolous purposes to which it has been applied, strip it of the gloom and horror with which it has been enveloped, and there is none, in the whole circle of visionary creeds, that could more delightfully elevate the imagination, or more tenderly affect the heart. It would become a sovereign comfort at the bed of death, soothing the bitter tear wrung from Us by the agony of mortal separation. What could be more consoling than the idea, that the souls of those we once loved were permitted to return and watch over our welfare ? — that affectionate and guardian spirits sat by our pillows when we slept, keeping a vigil over our most help- 11 122 SELECTIONS FOR READING. less hours ? — that beauty and innocence, which had languished into the tomb, yet smiled unseen around us, revealing them- selves in those blest dreams wherein we live over again the hours of past endearments ? A belief of this kind would, I should think, be a new incentive to virtue, rendering us cir- cumspect, even in our most secret moments, from the idea that those we once loved and honored were invisible witnesses of all our actions. It would take away, too, from that loneliness and destitu- tion, which we are apt to feel more and more as we get on in our pilgrimage through the wilderness of this world, and rind that those who set forward with us lovingly and cheerily, on the journey, have one by one dropped away from our side. Place the superstition in this light, and I confess I should like to be a believer in it. — I see nothing in it that is incompatible with the tender and merciful nature of our religion, or revolting to the wishes and affections of the heart. There are departed beings that I have loved as I never again shall love in this world ; that have loved me as I never again shall be loved. If such beings do even retain in their blessed spheres the attachments which they felt on earth ; if they take an interest in the poor concerns of transient mortality, and are permitted to hold communion with those whom they have loved on earth, I feel as if I Could receive their visitation with the most solemn but unalloyed delight. In truth, such visitations would be too happy for this world : they would take away from the bounds and barriers that hem us in and keep us from each other. Our existence is doomed to be made up of transient embraces and long separations The most intimate friendship — of what brief and scattered por- tions of time does it consist ! We take each other by the hand ; and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness , and we rejoice together for a few short moments ; and then days, months, years intervene, and We have no intercourse with each other. Or if we dwell together for a season, the grave soon closes its gates, and cuts off all further communion ; and our spirits must remain in separation and widowhood, until they meet again in that more perfect state of being, where soul shall dwell with soul, and there shall be no such thing as death, or absence, or any other interruption of our union ELOCUTION MADE EASY 123 EIGHTY-SECOND LESSON. THE DYING ARCHER.— *R. (7. WhterstOfl. The day has near ended, the light quivers through The leaves of the forest, which bend with the dew ; The flowers bow in beauty, the smooth-flowing stream, Is gliding as softly as thoughts in a dream ; The low room is darkened, there breathes not a sound, While friends in their sadness are gathering round ; Now out speaks the Archer, his course well nigh done, " Throw, throw back the lattice,* and let in the sun '" The lattice is opened ; and now the blue sky Brings joy to his bosom, and fire to his eye ; There stretches the greenwood, where, year after year, He " chased the wild roe-buck and followed the deer." He gazed upon mountain, and forest, and dell, Then bowed he, in sorrow, a silent farewell : " And when we are parted, and when thou art dead, Oh where shall we lay thee ?" his followers said. Then up rose the Archer, and gazed once again On far-reaching mountain, and river, and plain ; " Now bring me my uuiver,f and tighten my bow, And let the winged arrow my sepulchre show !" Out, out through the lattice, the arrow has passed, And in the far forest has lighted at last, And there shall the hunter in slumber be laid, Where wild-deer are bounding beneath the green Miade His last words are finished : his spirit has fled, And now lies in silence the form of the dead ; The lamps in the chamber are flickering dim, And sadly the mourners are chanting their hymn ; And now to the greenwood, and now on the sod, Where lighted the arrow, the mourners have trod ; And thus by the river, where dark forests wave, That noble old Archer hath found him a grave ! * Lattice, a window of grate-work. * Quiver, a case for arrow*. 124 SELECTIONS FOR READING. EIGHTY-THIRD LESSON. the American flag. — J. R. Drake. When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure* robe of night, And set the stars of glory there ; She mingled with the gorgeous dyes The milky baldricf of the skies, And striped its pure' celestial white, With streakings of the morning light Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. Majestic monarch of the cloud, Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning-lances driven, When strike the warriors of the storm And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — Child of the Sun, to thee 't is given, To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle-stroke, And bid its blendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbinger^ of victory. Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph, high. When speaks the signal trumpet-tone, And the long line comes gleaming on (Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glist'ning bayonet), * Azure, blue, sky-colored. t Baldric [pronounced bawldrikL a girdle % Harbinger, forerunner ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 125 Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn To where thy meteor-glories burn, And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance ; And, when the camion-mouthings loud Heave, in wild wreaths, the battle-shroud, ; And gory sabres rise and fall, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall ! There shall thy victor-glances glow, And cowering* foes shall shrink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas, on ocean's wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave, When death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frightened waves rush wildly back, Before the broadside's reeling rack ; The dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly, In triumph, o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free hearts' only home, By angel-hands to valor given, Thy stars have lit the welkinf dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven For ever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe, but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ? * Cowering., stooping, shrinking. ♦ Welkin dome, the sky, the regions of the air. 11* 126 SELECTIONS FOR READING. EIGHTH-FOURTH LESSON. THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES. H. F. Gould. " Alas ! alas !" said the sorrowing tree, " my beautiful robe is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded pieces whirl upon the wind ! they rustle beneath the squirrel's foot, as he searches for his nut. They float upon the passing stream, and on the quivering lake. Wo is me ! for my fair green vesture is gone. It was the gift of the angel of the leaves ! I have lost it, and my glory has vanished ; my beauty has disappeared. My summer hours have passed away. My bright and come- ly garment, alas ! it is rent in a thousand parts. Who will weave me such another ? Piece by piece, it has been stripped from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the loss of one, ere another wandered off on air. The sound of music cheers me no more. The birds that sang in my bosom were dismayed* at my desola- tion. They have flown away with their songs. " I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe with his smile. The zephyrsf breathed softly through its glassy folds ; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far on the gentle air; my head was lifted high; my forehead was fair to the heavens. But now how changed ! Sadness is upon me ; my head is shorn, my arms are stripped ; I cannot throw a shadow on the ground. Beauty has departed ; gladness is gone out of my bosom ; the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into the earth. I am thirsty, I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. The winter is coming; I am destitute. Sorrow is my portion. Mourning must wear me away. How shall I account to the angel who clothed me, for the loss of his beautiful gift?" The angel had been listening. In soothing accents he an- Bwered the lamentation. " My beloved tree," said he, " be comforted ! I am by thee still, though every leaf has forsaken thee. The voice of glad- ness is hushed among the boughs, but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow is but for a season. Trust in me ; keep my *Di$jnayed, terrified. t Zephyrs, gentle west winds. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 127 promise in thy heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I leave with thee, abide and cheer thee through the coming winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew. " The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift through thy naked limbs. But these will be light and passing afflic- tions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless arms ; but it shall soon dissolve in tears. It shall pass into the ground and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branches it has op- pressed, and help me to adorn them. For I shall be here to use it. " Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The frost would chill and dest; oy it. It has gone into thy mother's bosom for her to keep it warm. Earth will not rob her offspring. She is a careful parent. She knows the wants of her children, and forgets not to provide for the least of them. " The sap that has for a while gone down, will make thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then return to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strengthened. Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in my promise, I will fulfil it. Buds shall shoot forth on every side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I will paint it and fit it in every part. It shall be a comely raiment. Thou shalt forget thy present sorrow. Sadness shall be swallowed up in joy. Now, my beloved tree, fare thee well for a season !' The angel was gone. The muttering winter drew near. The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm came and howled around the tree. But the word of the angel was hidden in her heart; it soothed her amid the threatenings of the tempest The ice cakes rattled upon her limbs ; they loaded and weighed them down. " My slender branches," said she, " let not this burden overcome you. Break not beneath this heavy affliction ; break not, but bend, till you can spring back t<5 your places. Let not a twig of you be lost ! Hope must prop you up for a while, and the angel will reward your patience. You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall be again in your motion, and beauty hanging around you i" The scowling face of Avinter began to lose its features. The raofins: storm grew faint, and breathed its last. The restless 128 SELECTIONS FOR READING. clouds fretted themselves to atoms ; they scattered upon the sky, and were brushed away. The sun threw down a bundle of golden arrows. They fell upon the tree; the ice cakes glittered as they came. Every one was shattered by a shaft, and unlocked itself upon the limb. They were melted and gone The reign of spring had come. Her blessed ministers were broad in the earth ; they hovered in the air ; they blended their beautiful tints, and cast a new created glory on the face of the heavens. The tree was rewarded for her trust. The angel was true to the object of his love. He returned ; he bestowed on her an- other robe. It was bright, glossy and unsullied.* The dust of summer had never lit upon it ; the scorching heat had not faded it; the moth had not profanedf it. The tree stood again in loveliness ; she was dressed in more than her former beauty. She was very fair ; joy smiled around her on every side. The birds new back to her bosom. They sang on every branch a hymn to the Angel of the Leaves. EIGHTY-FIFTH LESSON. THE SONG OF THE ANGELS AT BETHLEHEM. J.Grahame Deep was the midnight silence in the fields Of Bethlehem ; hushed the folds ; save that at times Was heard the lambs' faint bleat ; the shepherds stretched On the green sward, surveyed the starry vault. " The heavens declare the glory of the Lord, The firmament shows forth thy handiwork ;" Thus they their hearts attuned to the most High ; When suddenly a splendid cloud appeared, As if a portion of the milky way Descended slowly in the spiral course ; • Near and more near it draws ; then, hovering, floats High as the soar of eagles, shedding bright Upon the folded flocks a heavenly radiance. From whence was uttered loud, yet sweet, a voice : * Unsullied, not stained. f Profaned, injured. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. *29 " Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy , For unto you is born this day a Saviour ! And this shall be a sign to you : the babe Laid lowly in a manger ye shall find :" The angel spake, when, lo ! upon the cloud, A multitude of seraphim enthroned, Sang praises, saying, " glory to the Lord On high : on earth be peace, good will to men." With sweet response* harmoniously they choired ;f And while with heavenly harmony the song Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throng Illumed the land : the prowling lion stops, Awe-struck, with mane upreared, and flattened head ; And without turning, backward on his steps Recoils,:}: aghast, into the desert gloom. A trembling joy the astonished shepherds prove, As heavenward re-ascends the vocal blaze Triumphantly ; while by degrees the strain Dies on the ear, that self-deluded, listens, As if a sound so sweet could never die. EIGHTY-SIXTH LESSON. LIFE : AN ALLEGORY.—JI G. PerCWdl. It is now Morning. Still and glassy lies the lake, within its green and dew-sprent§ shores. Light mist hangs around, like a skiey veil, and only reveals the uncertain outlines of woods and hills. The warm vernal|| air is just stirring in the valleys, but has not yet ruffled the water's mirror. Turn the eye upward — the misty vault opens into the calm, clear heavens, over which there seems suffusedn a genial** spirit's breath. Far distant on the horizon flash out the gilded and reddening peaks ; and from yonder crown of snow, a sudden radiance announces the risen sun. Now in the east stream the golden rays through the soft * Response, answer. || Vernal, belonging to spring, t Choired, sung in a choir. *T Suffused, overspread. % Recoils, rushes back. ** Genial, cheerful £ Sprent, sprinkled. J 30 SELECTIONS FOR READING. blue vapor The breeze freshens, and comes loaded with fra- grance from the woods. A faint, dark curl sweeps over the water ; the mist rolls up, lifts itself above meadow and hill, and in gathered folds hangs light around the mountains. Away on the level lake, till it meets the sky, silvery gleams* the sheeted wave, sprinkled with changeful stars, as the ever-rising breeze breaks it in ripples. Now the pennonf that hung loose around the mast rises and fitfully floats. We spread the sail, and, cast- ing off from the shore, glide out with cheerful hearts on our voyage Before us widens the lake ; rock after rock receding back on either hand, and opening between, still bays, hung round with sparkling woods, or leading through green meadow vistas to blue sunny hills. It is now Noon. In the middle lake speeds the bark ovei light-glancing waves. Dark opens down the clear depth. White toss the crests of foam, — and, as the sail stoops to the 6teady wind, swift flies the parted water round the prow, and rushing pours behind the stern. The distant shores glow bright in the .sun, that alone in the heaven looks unveiled with vivifying^ goodness over the earth. How high and broad swells the sky ! The agitated lake tosses like a wide field of snowy blossoms. Sweep after sweep of the long-retiring shores — hill gleaming over hill, up to the shadowy mountains — and ovei these Alpine§ needles, shooting pearly white into the bound- less azure || — all lie still and happy under the ever-smiling sun And now it is Evening. The sun is sinking behind the dark mountains, and clouds scattered far in the east float soft in rosy light. The sun is now hidden, and strong and wide sweeps up its golden flame, like the holy blaze of a funeral pile. The breeze slackens — the waves subside in slumber — and slowly the bark steers into its sheltering bay. Long shadows stretch from hill to valley — fall like dark curtains on the lake — and a solemn, subdued serenity broods, like a protecting spirit, over the hush- ed and quiet earth. Only the far summits yet retain their * Gleams, shines with sudden flashes of light t Pennon, a small flag. X Vivifying, making alive, animating -with his father in prison, who beholding his only parent loaded with irons and con- demned to die, was overwhelmed in grief and sorrow. " Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break your father's heart with unavailing sorrow ? Have I not often told you we came into this world to prepare for a better ? For that better life, my dear boy, your father is prepared. Instead then of weeping, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so near an end. To-morrow I set out for immortality. You will accompany me to the place of my execution, and, when I am dead, take and bury me by the side of your mother." The youth here fell on his father's neck, crying, " my father ! my father ! 1 will die with you ! I will die with you !" Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong embrace of his son, but, alas ! his hands were confined with irons. " Live," said he, " my son, live to honor God by a good life, live to serve your country ; and live to take care of your little sisters and brother !" The next morning Colonel Haynes was conducted to the place of execution. His son accompanied him. Soon as they came in sight of the gallows, the father strengthened himself, and said — " Now, my son, show yourself a man ! That tree is the boundary of my life, and of all my life's sorrows. Beyond that the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Don't lay too * Habiliments, dresses 142 SELECTIONS FOR READING. much to heart our separation from you ; it will be but short. It was but Mtely your dear mother died. To-day 1 die, and you, my son, though but young, must shortly follow us." " Yes, my father," replied the broken-hearted youth, " I shall shortly follow you ; for indeed I feel that I cannot live long." On seeing therefore his father in the hands of the executioner,* and then struggling in the halter, — he stood like one trans- fixedf and motionless with horror. Till then he had wept in- cessantly, but as soon as he saw that sight, the fountain of his tears was stanched, and he never wept more. He died insane, and in his last moments often called on the name of his father in terms that wrung tears from the hardest hearts. NINETY-THIRD LESSON. SPIRIT OF FREEDOM. PerCWdL Spirit of Freedom ! who thy home hast made In wilds and wastes, where wealth has never trod, Nor bowed her coward head before her god, The sordid deity of fraudful trade ; Where power has never reared his iron brow, And glared his glance of terror, nor has blown The maddening trump of battle, nor has flown His blood-thirst eagles ; where no flatterers bow, And kiss the foot that spurns them ; where no throne, Bright with the spoils from nations wrested, towers, The idol of a slavish mob, who herd, Where largess feeds their sloth with golden showers* And thousands hang upon one tyrant's word — Spirit of Freedom ! thou, who dwell'st alone, Unblenched4 unyielding, on the storm-beat shore, And findest a stirring music in its roar, And lookest abroad on earth and sea thy own- Far from the city's noxious§ hold, thy foot Fleet as the wild deer bounds, as if its breath * Executioner, one who puts to death by law. % Unblenched, unshrinking, f Transfixed, pierced through. § Noxious, hurtful, destructive ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 143 Were but the rankest, foulest steam of death , Its soil were but the dunghill, where the root Of every poisonous weed and baleful tree Grew vigorously and deeply, till their shade Had choked and killed each wholesome plant, and laid In rottenness the flower of Liberty — Thou fliest to the desert, and its sands Become thy welcome shelter, where the pure Wind gives its freshness to thy roving bands, And languid "weakness finds its only cure ; Where few their wants, and bounded their desires, And life all spring and action, they display Man's boldest flights, and highest, warmest fires, And beauty wears her loveliest array — Spirit of Freedom ! I would with thee dwell, Whether on Afric's sand, or Norway's crags, Or Kansa's prairies,* for thou lovest them well, And there thy boldest daring never flags ; Or I would launch with thee upon the deep, And like the petrelf make the wave my home, And careless as the sportive sea-bird roam ; Or with the chamoisj on the Alp would leap, And feel myself upon the snow-clad height, A portion of that undimmed flow of light, No mist nor cloud can darken — ! with thee. Spirit of Freedom ! deserts, mountains, storms. Would wear a glow of beauty, and their forms Would soften into loveliness, and be Dearest of earth, — for there my soul is free — — ■ ' — ■ — — — — i^^» -—j* * Prairies, extensive tracts of land destitute of trees. t Petrel, a water fowl. % Chamois (pronounced Shamoy), a kind of goat. '44 SELECTIONS FOR READING. NINETY-FOURTH LESSON. LAKES AND THE OCEAN G. Melletl. There is ever a contrast between the lesser lakes and the great ocean. You can rarely, if ever, look upon the sea, when it is not heaving with the coming on, the height, or the dying of the tempest. There is always agitation within its mighty bosom. You see something at work there that tells of perpe- tual* unrestf — of a power within, that cannot be still. The sub- siding thunder of the storm that has passed away, is but the deep prelusivej music of another. But go in midsummer to the lake, embosomed§ among the hills, and gaze upon it when all the elements are in slumber, and I know not that you will find in nature a more beautiful picture of repose. There is no heaving billow there — no crest- ed wave breaking in foam upon the shore — no sound of de- parted storm, murmuring like some vast imprisoned spirit at its temporary subjection. But you see there a surface, silent as death — and as placid. The water lies spread before you, a perfect mirror ; and you see wooded summit and lonely vale — forest and field-tree and tower — cloud and sky, all gazing into its profound, as though enchanted with the loveliness of their own reflection. You see the beautiful and the grand mingling their wonders in solitude, and you feel how much more exquisite is the display, when it is perfected in the hour and home of Nature's quietness. Then, if you stand upon bank or shore at sunset, when its hundred hues are playing on the sky, and see the new heaven created in the depths below you, and witness its mockery of splendor, its lading colors and dying beams, till star begins to answer to star in the dark water, surely you are beholding something that Nature presents only in such hallowed spots in her empire — something of beauty and grandeur that she can never offer by the " vasty deep," — something — be it developed ' where it may, far beyond the witchery of the gifted pencil — something to rejoice in — something to be thankful for. * Perpetual, continual, never ceasing. i Prelusive, previous, serving to introduce t Unrest, disquiet. $ Embosomed enclosed. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 145 NINETY-FIFTH LESSON. MARCO BOZZARIS. Halleck. At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour, When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. In dreams through camp and court, he bore The trophies* of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signetf ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; That bright dream was his last ; He woke — to hear his sentry's^ shriek, " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek V* He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, And death shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band : — •• 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 !" They fought — like brave men, long and well, They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. * Trophies, things taken in battle from an enemy. % Sentry, a soldier on guard t Signet ring, a ring containing the king's seal. 13 I {Q SELECTIONS FOR READING. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang the proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. NINETY-SIXTH LESSON. SUBLIMITY OP MOUNTAIN SCENERY. Cfoly. Of all the sights that nature offers to the eye and mind of man, mountains have always stirred my strongest feelings. I have seen the Ocean, when it was turned up from the bottom by tempest, and noon was like night, with the conflict of the billows and the storm, that tore and scattered them in mist and foam across the sky. I have seen the Desert rise around me, and calmly, in the midst of thousands uttering cries of horror and paralyzed by fear, have contemplated the sandy pillars, coming like the advance of some gigantic city of conflagration flying across the wilderness, every column glowing with in- tense fire, and every blast death; the sky vaulted with gloom, the earth a furnace. But with me, the mountain — in tempest or in calm, the throne of the thunder, or with the evening sun painting its delist and declivities^ in colors dipped in heaven — has been the source of the most absorbing sensations. — There stands magnitude, giv- ing the instant impression of a power above man — grandeur, that defies decay — antiquity, that tells of ages unnumbered — beauty, that the touch of time makes only more beautiful — use, exhaustless for the service of man — strength, imperishable as the globe ; — the monument of eternity, — the truest earthly em- blem of that ever-living, unchangeable, irresistible Majesty, by whom and for whom, all things were made ! * Paralyzed, deprived of motion. % Declivities, descents, slopes. t Delia, valleys. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 147 NINETY-SEVENTH LESSON. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, alter a long absence from my native village, 1 stood beside the sacred mound, beneath which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, great changes have come over me. My childish years have passed away ; and with them have passed my youthful character. The world was altered too ; and as I stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheek she so often kissed in her excess of tenderness. But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her yesterday — as if the blessed sound of her voice was then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have been gentle and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a trifling one ; but the thought of it, even now, agonizes my heart— and I relate it that those who have parents to love them, may learn to value them as they ought. My mother had been ill a long time ; and I had become so much accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is true, I had sobbed violently — for they told me that she would die ; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I began to believe she would always be spared to me. One day when I had lost my place in the class, and done my work wrong-side-outward, I came home discouraged and fretful. I went into my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual, — but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my return. Alas ! when I look bacli through the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have been stone, not to have been melted by it. She requested me to go down stairs, and bring her a glas^ of water. I pettishly asked why she did not call the domestic to do it. With a look of mild reproach, which I shall never *48 SELECTIONS FOR READING. forget, if I live to be a hundred years old, she said, " And will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" I went and brought her the water ; but I did not do it kindly. Instead of smiling, and kissing her as I was wont to do, I set the glass down very quick and left the room. After playing a short time, I retired without bidding my mother " good night ;" but when alone in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her faint voice trembled, when she said, «* Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" I could not sleep ; and I stole into her chamber, to ask forgiveness. She had just sunk into an uneasy slumber; and they told me I must not waken her. I did not tell any one what troubled me ; but stole back to my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and tell her how sorry I was for my conduct. The sim was shining brightly when I awoke, and hurrying on my clothes, 1 hastened to my mother's room. She was dead! She never spoke to me more — never smiled upon me again ! And when I touched the hand that used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold it made me start. I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I thought then I wished I could die, and be buried with her ; and old as I now am, I -would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back ; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold* kindness, the memory of the reproachful look she gave me, will " bite like a serpent and sting like an adder." NINETY-EIGHTH LESSON. U I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY." W. Cutter, " It is true there are shadows as well as lights, clouds as well as sunshine, thorns as well as roses ; but it is a happy world after all." " I would not live alway !" — yet 'tis not that here There's nothing to live for, and nothing to love ; The cup of life's blessings, though mingled with tears, Is crowned with rich tokens of good from above : * Manifold, oft repeated. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 149 And dark though the storms of adversity rise, Though changes dishearten, and dangers appal, Each hath its high purpose, both gracious and wise, And a Father's kind providence rules over all. " I would not live alway !" and yet, oh, to die ! With a shuddering thrill how it palsies the heart ! We may love, we may pant for, the glory on high, Yet tremble and grieve from earth's kindred to part. There are ties of deep tenderness drawing us down, Which warm round the heart-strings their tendrils will weave ; And Faith, reaching forth for her heavenly crown, Still lingers, embracing the friends she must leave. " I would not live alway !" because I am sure There's a better, a holier rest in the sky ; And the hope that looks forth to that heavenly shore, Overcomes timid nature's reluctance to die. visions of glory, of bliss, and of love, Where sin cannot enter, nor passion enslave, Ye have power o'er the heart, to subdue or remove The sharpness of death, and the gloom of the grave ! ♦* I would not live alway !" yet 'tis not that time, Its loves, hopes, and friendships, cares, duties, and joys. Yield nothing exalted, nor pure, nor sublime, The heart to delight, or the soul to employ ; No ! an angel might oftentimes sinlessly dwell 'Mid the innocentrscenes to life's pilgrimage given , And though passion and folly can make earth a hell, To the pure 'tis the emblem and gate-way of heaven. " I would not live alway !" and yet, while I stay In this Eden of time, 'mid these gardens of earth, I'd enjoy the sweet flowers and fruits as I may, And gain with their treasures whate'er they are worth • 1 would live, as if life were a part of my heaven, I would love, as if love were a part of its bliss, And I'd take the sweet comforts, so lavishly given, As foretastes of that world, in portions, in this 13* 150 SELECTIONS FOR REArinC " I would not live alway !" yet willingly wait, Be it longer or shorter, life's journey to roam, Ever ready and girded, with spirits elate, To obey the first call that shall summon me home yes ' it is better, far better to go Where pain, sin, and sorrow can never intrude ; And yet I would cheerfully tarry below, And expecting the better, rejoice hi the good. NINETY-NINTH LESSON. knowledge. — De Witt Clinton. Pleasure is a shadow, wealth is vanity, and power a pageant ;* but knowledge is ecstaticf in enjoyment, perennial} in fame, unlimited in space, and infinite in duration. In the performance of its sacred office, it fears no danger, spares no expense, omits no exertion. It scales the mountain, looks ; nto the volcano, dives into the ocean; perforates§ the earth, wings its flight into the skies, encircles the globe, explores the *ea and land, contemplates the distant, examines the minute, comprehends the great, ascends to the sublime : no place too -emote for its grasp, no heavens too exalted for its reach ONE HUNDREDTH LESSON. MOONLIGHT AND A FIELD OF BATTLE. Shelley. How beautiful this night ! the balmiest sigh Which vernal 1 1 zephyrs breathe in Evening's air, Were discord to the speaking quietude That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon^ vault, Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy** which Love had spread, * Pageant, a pompous show. || Vernal, belonging to spring. t Ecstatic, transporting, very delightful. IT Ebon, dark. t Perennial, durable, continual. ** Canopy, a covering spread over the head $ Perforates bores or pierces through ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 151 To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, Robed in a garment of untrodden snow ; Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, So stainless-, that their white and glittering spires Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castled steep. Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it A metaphor* of peace ; — all form a scene Where musing Solitude might love to lift Her soul above this sphere of earthliness ; Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone, So cold, so bright, so still ! The orb of day, In southern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field Sinks sweetly smiling : not the faintest breath Steals o'er the unruffled deep ; the clouds of eve Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day ; And Vesper'sf image on the western main Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes : Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, Roll o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; Tempest unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend, With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey ; The torn deep yawns — the vessel finds a grave Beneath its jaggedj gulf. Ah ! whence yon glare That fires the arch of heaven ? — that dark red smoke Bloating the silver moon ? The stars are quenched In darkness, and the pure spangling snow Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round ! Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals In countless echoes through the mountains ring, Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne! Nor swells the intermingling din ; the jar, Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb ; * Metaphor, a similitude, resemblance. t Jagged, notched, uneven \ Vesper, the evening star, Venus. 152 SELECTIONS FOR READING. The falling beam, the. shriek, the groan, the shout, The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men Inebriate with rage ! — loud and more loud The discord grows ; till pale Death shuts the scene, And, o'er the conqueror and the conquered, draws His cold and bloody shroud. Of all the men Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, Tn proud and vigorous health — of all the hearts That beat with anxious life at sunset there — How few survive, how few are beating now ! All is deep silence, like the fearful calm That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; Save when the frantic wail of widowed love Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay Wrapped round its struggling powers. The grey morn Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous smoke Before the icy wind slow rolls away, And the bright beams of frosty morning dance Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood, Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path Of the outsallying victors : far behind Black ashes note where their proud city stood Within yon forest is a gloomy glen — Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, Waves o'er a warrior's tomb. ONE HUNDRED AND FIRST LESSON. ABSALOM.— WilllS. The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 153 With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. How strikingly the course of nature tells, By its light heed of human suffering, That it was fashioned for a happier world ! King David's limbs were weary. He had fled From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, With his faint people, for a little rest Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn The mourner's covering, and he had not felt That he could see his people until now. They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts Come crowding thickly up for utterance, And the poor common words of courtesy Are such a very mockery — how much The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer! He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep tones Grew tremulous. But, oh, for Absalom — For his estranged, misguided Absalom — The proud, bright being, who had burst away, In all his princely beauty, to defy The heart that cherished him — for him he poured,' In agony that would not be controlled, Strong supplication, and forgave him there, Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. ******* The pall was settled. He who slept beneath Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds 154 SELECTIONS FOR READING. Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed The matchless symmetry* of Absalom. His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls Were floating round the tassels as they swayed To the admitted air, as glossy now As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. His helm was at his feet : his banner, soiled With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid Reversed, beside him ; and the ]ewelled hiit, Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow. The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, As if he feared the slumberer might stir. A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form Of David entered, and he gave command, In a low tone, to his few followers, And left him with his dead. The king stood stil* Till the last echo died : then, throwing off The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back The pall from the still features of his child, He bowed nis head upon him, and broke forth In the resistless eloquence of wo ! — " Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair . How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom ! " Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, * Symmetry, proportion ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 15! Ind hear thy sweet « my father'' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! " The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young ; And life will pass me in the mantling blush, And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; — But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom ! " And, oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token ! it were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, To see thee, Absalom ! •' And now, farewell ! 'T is hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee : — And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, hem* . My erring Absalom !" He covered up his face, and bowed himself A moment on his child : then, giving him A look of melting tenderness, he clasped His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; And, as a strength were given him of God, He rose up calmly, and composed the pall Firmly and decently, and left him there, As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 156 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND LESSON. THE NEW ROOF : A SONG FOR FEDERAL MECHANICS. Come muster, ray lads, your mechanical tools, Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules ; Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line, And plenty of pins of American pine : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Our government firm, and our citizens free. Come up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall, Like the people at large, they're the ground-work of all ; Examine them well, and see that they're sound, Let no rotten part in our building be found : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, A government firm, and our citizens free. Now hand up the girders, lay each in its place, Between them the joists must divide all the space ; Like assembly-men, these should lie level along, Like the girders, our senate prove loyal and strong : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, A government firm, and our citizens free. The rafters now frame ; your king-posts and braces, And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places ; Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine, And your pins be all made of American pine : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Laws equal and just, for a people that's free. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 15 1 Our ling-posts are judges ; how upright they stand, Supporting the braces ; the laws of the land : The laws of the land which divide right from wrong, And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Laws equal and just for a people thafs free. Up ! up ! with the rafters ; each frame is a state ! How nobly they rise ! their span, too, how great ! From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend, And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, Combined in strength, yet as citizens fr&e. Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through, And see that your joints are drawn home and all true, The purlins will bind all the rafters together : The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather : For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, United as states, but as citizens free. Come, raise up the turret, our glory and pride : In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside : The sons of Columbia shall view with delight, Its pillars and arches, and towering height : Our roof is now raised, and our song still shall be A federal head oi'er a people that's free. Huzza ! my brave boys, our work is complete ; The world shall admire Columbia's fair feat ; Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof, And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof; Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be, Our government firm, and our citizens free, 158 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD LESSON. WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN. — /. Q. Adams. Section 1. 1. The sword of Washington | and the staff of Franklin ! What associations | are linked in adamant | with those names ! Washington, the warrior of human freedom — Washington | whose sword was never drawn | but in the cause of his coun- try, and never sheathed | when wielded in her name ! Franklin, the philosopher of the thunder-bolt, the printing-press, and the plow- share ! Washington and Franklin ! What names are these | in the scanty catalogue of the benefactors of mankind ! What other two men, whose lives belong | to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have left a deeper impression of them- selves | upon all after time ? 2. Washington, the warrior and legislator ! In war, contend- ing by the wager of battle | for the independence of his coun- try, and for the freedom | of the human race ; ever manifesting, amid its horrors, his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest sympathies | of humanity. In peace, soothing the ferocious spirit of discord | into harmony and union, and giving to that very sword | now presented to his country | a charm more potent | than that attributed | in ancient times | to the lyre of Orpheus. Section 2. 3. Franklin, the mechanic of his own fortunes, in early youth, teaching | under the shackles of indigence | the way to wealth, and | in the shade of obscurity | the path to greatness : in the maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder | of its terrors, the lightning | of its fatal blast, and wresting from the tyrants | the still .more afflictive sceptre of oppression : while descending into SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 159 the vale of years, traversing the Atlantic, bearing in his hand | the Charter of Independence, and tendering | to the mightiest monarchs of Europe | the olive branch of peace, the mercurial wand of commerce, and the amulet of protection and safety | to the man of peace | on the pathless ocean, from the inexorable cruelty | and the merciless rapacity of war. 4. And finally | in the last stage of life, with four score win- ters | upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease, returning to his native land, closing his days as the chief magis- trate | of his adopted Commonwealth | after contributing | by his counsels | under the presidency of Washington, and record- ing his name | to that Constitution | under the authority of which | we are here assembled to receive these venerable re- lics | of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders | of our great confederated Republic — these sacred symbols of our golden age. ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH LESSON. LOVE AND MURDER. — AnOU* In Manchester a maiden dwelt, Her name was Phoebe Brown ; Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, And she was considered by good judges to be by all odds, the best looking girl in town. Her age was nearly seventeen, Her eyes were sparkling bright ; A very lovely girl she was, And for about a year and a half there had been a young man paying his attention to her, by the name of Reuben Wright. Mercurial — Active, powerful. Wand — A staff of authority. Amulet — Something worn to protect from evil. 160 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Now Reuben was a nice young man, As any in the town, And Phoebe loved him very dear, But on account of his being obliged to work for a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Her parents were resolved Another she should wed, A rich old miser in the place, And old Brown frequently declared, that rather than have his daughter marry Reuben "Wright, he'd sooner Enock him in the head. But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, She feared not her parent's frowns ; And as for Reuben Wright so bold, I've heard him say more than fifty times that, (with the exception of Phoebe) he didn't care a cent for the whole race of Browns. So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright Determined they would marry ; Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, They started for old Parson Webster's, determined to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. But Captain Brown was Wide awake, He loaded up his gun, And then pursued the loving pair ; He overtook 'em when they'd got about half way to the parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon the run. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 161 Old Brown then took a deadly aim Toward young Reuben's head ; But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down stone dead. Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, And vengeance crazed his brain, He drew an awful jack-knife out And plunged it into old Brown about fifty or sixty times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever coming to again. The briny drops from Reuben's eyes In torrents pour-ed down, — And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old Captain Brown. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH LESSON. A crusader's SONG. — Anonymous. 1 . To arms ! to arms ! for the truce is out, The Christian's trump and the Moslem's shout, Like the distant moan of roaring seas, Is borne aloft on the morning breeze ; Then awake, sir knight, for the foe is near, And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 2. The tents are struck, and the cross display 'd, In armor bright each knight is arrayed. The pointed lance and the polish'd shield Like meteors flash o'er the battle field : 162 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Then arise, sir knight, for the foe is near, And the sunbeams glitter on Jance and spear. 3. Hark ! 'tis the crush of the Moslem band, Where the crescent waves o'er the Holy Land, Their hands are dy'd, their swords are red With the crimson gore of Christians dead ; Then to arms, sir knight, for the foe is near, And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 4. Haste, haste away, for thou know'st, sir knight, Yon wreath is won by the first in fight ; 'Twas made by the warmest, fairest hand, That e'er was seen in Christian land ; Then to horse, to horse, for the foe is near, And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. 5. The trumpet sounds — then on to the field, Yon Moslem host to the cross must yield ; Then linger not — to the charge away, For battle rage is a warrior's play ; On, on, sir knight, for the foe is near, And the sunbeams glitter on lance and spear. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTH LESSON. AMERICAN FREEDOM. — MdXCy. Section 1. The citizens of America | celebrate that day | which gave birth to their liberties. The recollection of this event, replete with consequences | so beneficial to mankind, swells every heart with joy | and fills every tongue with praise. We celebrate not the sanguinary exploits of a tyrant | to subjugate and enslave SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 163 millions | of his fellow men ; we celebrate neither the birth | nor the coronation of that phantom styled a king ; but the re- surrection of liberty, the emancipation of mankind, the regenera- tion of the world. These | are the sources of our joy, these | the causes of our triumph. We pay no homage | at the tomb of kings, to sublime our feelings — we trace no line of illustrious ancestors, to support our dignity | we recur to no usages | sanc- tioned by the authority of the great, to protect s our rejoicing; — no, we love liberty, we glory in the rights o f men, we glory in independence. On whatever part of God's creation | a human form pines under chains, there | Americans drop their tears. Section 2. A dark cloud | once shaded this beautiful quarter of the globe. Consternation | for awhile | agitated the hearts | of the inhabit- ants. War | desolated our fields, and buried our vales | in blood. But the dayspring from on high soon opened upon us | its glittering portals. The angel of liberty | descending, drop- ped on Washington's brow | the wreath of victory, and stamped on American freedom | the seal of omnipotence. The darkness is past, and the true light | now shines to enliven and rejoice mankind. We tread a new earth, in which dwelleth righteous- ness ; and view a new heaven, flaming with inextinguishable stars. Our feet will no more descend | into the vale of oppres- sions ; our shoulders will no more bend | under the weight of a foreign domination | as cruel as it was unjust. Well may we re- joice | at the return of this glorious anniversary ; a day | dear to every American ; a day | to be had in everlasting remembrance; a day | whose light circulates joy | through the hearts | of all republicans, and terror through the hearts of all tyrants. Consternation — Dread, fear. Portals — Gates. Inextinguishable — That cannot be put out. Anniversary — A day on every year on which an event is cele- brated, 164 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTH LESSON. LYCEUM SPEECH OF MR. ORATOR CLIMAX. — Anon. Mr. President. Happiness is like a crow perched upon the neighboring top of a far distant mountain, which some fisher- man vainly strives, to no purpose, to ensnare. He looks at the crow, Mr. President, — and — Mr. President, the crow looks at him ; and, sir, they both look at each other. But the moment he attempts to reproach him, he banishes away like the schis- matic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which, it was the astonishing and perspiring genius of a Newton, who first de- plored and enveloped the cause of it. Can not the poor man, sir, precipitate into all the beauties of nature, from the loftiest mounting up to the most humblest valley, as well as the man prepossessed of indigence ? Yes, sir ; while the trilling trans- ports crown his view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary youth, he can raise his mind up to the laws of nature, incom- pressible as they are, while viewing the lawless storm that kind- leth up the tremenjious roaring thunder, and fireth up the dark and rapid lightnings, and causeth it to fly through the intensity of space, that belches forth those awful and sublime meteors, and roll — a bolly — aliases, through the unfathomable regions of fiery hemispheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lovely retreat, beneath the shadowy shades of an umbrageous tree, at whose venal foot flows some limping stagnant stream, he gathers around him his wife and the rest of his orphan children. He there takes a retrospective view upon the diagram of futurity, and casts his eye like a flashing meteor forward into the past. Seated in their midst, aggravated and exhaled by the dignity and inde- pendence coincident with honorable poverty, his countenance irrigated with an intense glow of self deficiency and excommu- nicated knowledge, he quietly turns to instruct his little assem- SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 165 blage. He therefore endeavors to distil into their young youthful minds, useless lessons to guard their juvenile youths against vice and immortality. There, on a clear sunny evening, when the silvery moon is shining forth in all her indulgence and ubiquity, he teaches the first sediments of gastronomy, by pointing out to them the bear, the lion, and many other fixed in- visible consternations, which are continually involving upon their axle-trees, through the blue cerulean fundamus above. From this vast ethereal he dives with them to the very bottom of the unfathomable ocean, bring up from thence liquid treasures of earth and air. He then courses with them on the imaginable wing of fancy through the boundless regions of unimaginable ether, until swelling into impalpable immensity, he is for ever lost in the infinite radiation of his own overwhelming genius. ONE HUNDKED AND EIGHTH LESSON. WILLIAM TELL IN THE FIELD OF GRUTLI. — Knowks. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again ! — sacred forms, how proud you look ! How high you lift your heads into the sky ! How huge you are ! how mighty and how free ! Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile Makes glad — whose frown is terrible — whose forms Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again ! — I call to you With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, To show they still are free. I rush to you As though I could embrace you ! ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow O'er the abyss : his broad expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air, As if he floated there without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will, That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still His airy circle, as in the delight Of measuring the ample range beneath And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not The death that threatened him. I could not shoot !- 'Twas liberty ! — I turned by bow aside, And let him soar away. ONE HUNDRED AND NINTH LESSON. our country. — Webster. Our proper business is improvement. Let our age be the age of improvement. In a day of peace, let as advance the arts of peace and the works of peace. Let us develope the re- sources of our land, call forth its powers, build up its institutions, promote all its great interests, and see whether we also, in our day and generation, may not perform something worthy to be remem- bered. Let us cultivate a true spirit of union and harmony. In pursuing the great object which our condition points to us, let us act under a settled conviction, and an habitual feeling, Develope — unfold, bring out. Resources — means. Promote — advance. Harmony — agreement. Conviction — belief Habitual — constant. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 161 that these twenty-four states are one country. Let our concep- tions be enlarged to the circle of our duties. Let us extend our ideas over the whole of the vast field in which we are called to act. Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothino but our country. And by the blessing of God, may that country itself become a vast and splendid Monument, not of oppression and terror, but of Wisdom, of Peace, and of Liberty, upon which the world may gaze, with admiration, for ever. ONE HUNDRED AND TENTH LESSON. RHINE SONG OF THE ROMAN SOLDIERS AFTER victory. — Mrs. Hemans. Single Voice. It is the Rhine ! our mountain vineyards laving ; I see the bright flood shine ; Sing on the march, with every banner waving, Sing, brothers ! 'tis the Rhine ! Chorus. The Rhine, the Rhine ! our own imperial river ! Be glory on thy track ! We left thy shores, to die or to deliver We bear thee freedom back. Single Voice. Hail ! hail ! My childhood knew thy rush of water, Even as my mother's song ; That sound went past me on the field of slaughter, And heart and arm grew strong. Conceptions — ideas. Monument — anything to continue remembrance. 168 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Chorus. Roll proudly on ! Brave blood is with thee sweeping, Poured out by sons of thine, When sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping, Like thee, victorious Rhine ! Single Voice. Home ! home : — thy glad wave bath a tone of greeting- Tby path is by my home : Even now my children count the hours, till meeting. O ransomed ones, I come. Chorus. Go, tell the seas tbat cbain shall bind thee never Sound on, by hearth and shrine ; Sing through the hills that thou art free for ever ; Lift up thy voice, Rhine ! OND HUNDRED AND ELEVENTH LESSON. THE MECHANICS' SONG. Ye merry mechanics, come join in my song, And let your brisk chorus come bounding- along ; Tho' some perhaps poor, and some rich there may be, Yet all are united, happy and free. Ye tailors of ancient and noble renown, Who clothe all the people in country and town ; Remember that Adam (your father and head) Tho' the lord of the world, was a tailor by trade. Masons who work in stone, mortar and brick, And lay the foundation deep, solid and thick ; Tho' hard be your labor, yet lasting your fame, Both Egyx)t and China your wonders proclaim. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 169 Ye smiths who forge tools for all trades here below, You've nothing to fear while you smite and you blow ; 411 things you may conquer, so happy your lot If you're careful to strike while the iron is hot. Ye shoemakers nobly from ages long past, Have defended your rights with the awl to your last ; And cobblers all merry not only stop holes, But work night and day for the good of our soles. Ye cabinet-makers, brave workers in wood, As you work for the ladies, your work must be good; Ye joiners and carpenters, far off and near, Stick close to your trades and you've nothing to fear. Ye coachmakers must not by tax be controll'd, But ship off your coaches and fetch us some gold ; The roller of your coach made Copernicus reel, And foresee the world to turn round like a wheel. Ye hatters who oft with hands not very fair, Fix hats on a block for blockheads to wear ; Tho' charity covers a sin now and then, You cover the heads and the sins of all men. Ye carders, and spinners, and weavers attend, And take the advice of poor Richard, your friend ; Stick close to your looms, to your wheels, and your card, And you never need fear of times going hard. Ye printers who give us our learning and news, And impartially print for Turks, Christians and Jews ; Let your favorite toast ever sound thro' the streets, A freedom to press, and a volume in sheets. ItO ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Ye coopers who rattle with driver and adze, And lather each day upon hoops and on cags ; The famous old ballad of " Love in a tub," You may sing to the tune of rub-a-dub-dub. Ye ship-builders, riggers, and makers of sails, Already the new Constitution prevails ; And soon you may see on the proud swelling tide, The ships of Columbia triumphantly ride. Each tradesman turns out with his tools in his hand, To cherish the arts and keep peace thro' the land, Each apprentice and journeyman, join in my song, And let your full chorus come bounding along. ONE HUNDKED AND TWELFTH LESSON. PETER PARLEY'S FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. Well may we exult in the Declaration of Independence ! It is, in truth, a great and glorious theme. Our fathers are entitled to immortal renown, and they will receive it to the end of time, for their magnanimous defence of liberty. They have set an example which is worthy of imitation by their descend- ants, and by all the nations in the world. On us especially ia this example binding. By their courage and sacrifices in the cause of freedom we are free ; and we are bound to preserve our freedom and the independence of our country, whenever and by whomsoever attacked, or to perish in its defence. We therefore promise and engage before heaven and earth, that we will pro- tect and defend our country, her liberty and independence, to the utmost of our bodily and mental strength ; and that before we will ever submit to foreign or domestic bondage, we will bury ourselves amongst her ruins ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 17 i ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEENTH LESSON, AMERICA. I rejoice that I have lived to see so much progress of liberty much diffusion of virtue and happiness. And, through good report and evil report, it will be my consolation to be a citizen of a republic unequalled in the annals of the world, for the freedom of its institutions, its high prosperity, and the prospects of good which lie before it. Our course is onward, straight onward, and forward. Let us not turn to the right hand nor to the left. Our path is marked out for us, clear, plain, bright, distinctly defined, like the milky-way across the heavens. If we are true to our country, those who come after us shall be true to it also ; we shall elevate her to a pitch of prosperity and happiness, of honor and power, never yet reached by any nation beneath the sun. ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH LESSON. SPEECH obituary. — Clark's, Knick- Knacks. " Mr. Speaker : Sir ! Our fellow citizen, Mr. Silas Higgins, who was lately a member of this branch of the Legislature, is dead, and he died yesterday in the forenoon. He had the brown-creaters, {bronchitis was meant) and was an uncommon individual. His character was good up to the time of his death, and he never lost his woice. He was fifty-six years old, and was taken sick before he died, at his boarding-house, where board can be had at a dollar and seventy-five cents a week, washing and lights included. He was an ingenus creetur, and in the Diffusion — a spreading. Annals — histories. 1T2 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. early part of his life had a father and mother. He was an officer in our State militia since the last war, and was brave and polite : and his uncle, Timothy Higgins, belonged to the Revolutionary war, and was commissioned as lieutenant, by General Wash- ington, first President and Commander-in-Chief of the army and navy of the United States, who died at Mount Vernon, deeply lamented by a large circle of friends, on the 14th of December, 1799, or thereabouts, and was buried soon after his death, with military honors, and several guns were bu'st in firing salutes. " Sir ! Mr. Speaker : General Washington presided over the great continental Sanhedrim and political meeting that formed our constitution : and he was indeed a first-rate good man. He was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen ;.and, though he was in favor of the United States' Bank, he was a friend of edication : and from what he said in his farewell address, I have no doubt he would have voted for the tariff of 1846, if he had been alive, and hadn't ha T died some time beforehand. His death was considered, at the time, as rather premature, on account of its having been brought on by a very hard cold. " Now, Mr. Speaker, such being the character of General Washington, I motion that we wear crape around the left arm of this legislature, and adjourn until to-morrow morning, as an emblem of our respects for the memory of S. Higgins, who is dead, and died of the brown-creaters yesterday in the forenoon !" ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH LESSON. Young Americans, far from you be that mean spirit, which is satisfied with half-way excellence. Strive to gain the highest badge of honor for yourselves, and for your country. Be greatly good. Now is the time to store your minds with knowledge, SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 173 and form your hearts to virtue. It is the condition of our being, that all which is most valuable is to be diligently sought. They who would win the prize, must exert themselves earnestly in the race, and not fall back, nor turn aside for small obstacles. Young Americans, can you be ignorant of the high duties to which you are called ? Will you pass away the prime of your days in careless indolence, and cheat the fair hopes of your friends ? Can you be contented to crawl through the world without honor, and die without doing anything worthy of your country ? Your lot is cast in a land where empire is built on truth and justice ; where the rights of man are cherished : you are to follow where a Washington has led, and where victory can gain no laurels in a bad cause. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEENTH LESSON. the SPANISH patriot's song. — Anonymous. Hark ! hear you the sounds that the winds on their pinions, Exultingly roll from the shore to the sea, With a voice that resounds through her boundless dominions ? 'Tis Columbia calls on her sons to be free ! % Behold on yon summits where Heaven has crowned her, How she starts from her proud inaccessible seat ; With Nature's impregnable ramparts around her, And the cataract's thunder and foam at her feet ! In the breeze of her mountains her loose locks are shaken, While the soul-stirring notes of her warrior song, From the rock to the valley re-echo, " Awaken, Awaken, ye hearts that have slumber'd too long 1" 114 ELOCUTION MADE EAST Yes, Despots ! too long did your tyranny .hold us, In a vassalage vile, ere its weakness was known : Till we learn'd that the links of the chain that controll'd us Were forged by the fears of its captives alone. That spell is destroy'd and no longer availing, Despised as detested — pause well ere ye dare To cope with a people whose spirits and feeling Are roused by remembrance, and steel'd by despair. Go tame the wild torrent, or stem with a straw The proud surges that sweep o'er the strand that confines them ; But presume not again to give Freemen a law, Nor think that the chains they have broken to bind them. To hearts that the spirit of Liberty flushes, Resistance is idle, — and numbers a dream ; — They burst from control, as the mountain-stream rushes From its fetters of ice, in the warmth of the beam. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEENTH LESSON. man's ENTERPRISE. Man is an active being. He seems born for scheming, dar- ing and doing. The monuments of his activity are seen in every part of the earth. In lofty piles they rise on the plains of Egypt: in broken columns and crumbling arches, they Ho scattered over the soil of Greece and Rome. In mighty cities, navies, highways, institutions, states, thrones and empires, they cover the maps of Asia, Europe and America. The hand-writ- ing of this activity has chronicled the history of its deeds deep in the earth ; and, in broad, flaming capitals, written it on the heavens. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 115 What rock so hard that it has not yielded to its force ? What mine so deep that its shaft has not penetrated ? What moun- tain so high that its wings have not scaled it ? What chasm so broad that it has not spanned it ? Is there any danger it has not braved, or any difficulty it has not grappled with ? Who can tell the number of its wheels, or estimate the power of its levers ? What soils do not its ploughs furrow ? What waters do not the keels of its ships divide ? Where strayeth not its iron horse, puffing streams of fire from his huge nostrils, and mocking omnipotence with the impetus and thunder of his rush ? O'er what territory speed not its electric messengers ? And where, as the mighty ocean lifts up its voice, saying : " Thus far shall ye come, and here let your proud flight be stayed," does the bold and daring adventurer heed the dread prohibition ? Nay, has not his active enterprise spread the broad canvass on every ocean, and sped the deep imbeded keel o'er the waters of every sea ? What pen can chronicle the feats of art, science and philoso- phy it has wrought ? Where have not its battle-shocks made the earth to quake ? What streams hath not its carnage turned to blood ? Where, oh ! where can we set limits to what man's enterprise hath done ? It has nearly peopled and subdued the whole world, and added the mysteries of the heavenly bodies to the domain of his knowledge. Far, far away into the depths of space, where the Mighty Jehovah has set his jeweled orbs in the glittering firmament of heaven, threading his way through the unfathomable bounds, he has clustered star with star, and world with world, demonstrat- ing their nature and rank, their position and magnitude, till scarce a luminary of the sky that does come and go at his bid- ding. How has he reveled in his aerial flight from constellation to constellation, tailing of Pleiades, and Arcturus, and Orion, and all the heaver.ly host, till his lofty genius, towering in thought sublime, has seemed to mock at heights and depths and vast 176 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. expanse, and dared to sport with natures' wondrous works, as though to human thought and ingenuity, and mortal vision, God had set no bound. But who shall tell what hidden springs, or undeveloped laws stand at his door, and only wait his mandate to come forth, and usher in an era more illustrous still ; when, from creation's cen- ter to its utmost sun, there shall exist no beauty unde6ned, — no glory unrevealed. C * * * * *. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEENTH IESSON. UNION — WASHINGTON. — Russell. If we are united, we shall have nothing to fear. Union is the heart, through which must circulate those streams of life, of health, of joy, which shall animate every member, which shall heal every disease, and which shall give a zest to every blessing. United, you may sit securely, like a mighty giant, on your mountains, and bending a stern regard upon the ocean, dare the coming of the proudest foe. Policy, genius, nature herself invites to union. Be united ! was the last injunction which trembled from the lips of our departed Washington. At the name of Washington | does not a melancholy pleasure | sadden and delight your souls ! He has filled the world with his and our glory. The Tartar | and the Arab | converse about him | in their tents. His form already stands | in bronze and marble | among the worthies of ancient and modern times. The fidelity of history | has already taken care | of the immor- tality | of his fame. His example | shall animate posterity, and should faction tear, or invasion | approach our country, his spirit shall descend from the Divinity, and inspire tranquillity and courage. Death | has not terminated his usefulness — he has not, he can never cease to do good ; even now j he holds from his Injunction — Command. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 11*1 tomb I a torch which, cheers | and enlightens the world. Be united, was his last injunction. Washington J loved truth ! Let us love it — let us | seek it with a sincere and single heart. It will reward the search. It is great, immutable, and eternal. The fugitive falsehoods of the moment | shall perish ; party and passion | may write their names upon the plaster; but this | shall one day moulder, and Truth | remain for ever inscribed | upon the marble. ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH LESSON. PYRAMUS AND THISBE. — J. 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 or 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 That nourish now in classical fame, Long before Either noble or boor Had such a thing as a Christian name — Young Peter, then, was a nice young beau As any young lady would wish to know ; In years I ween, He was rather green, 178 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. That is to say, he was just eighteen, — A trifle too short, and 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 leanfto love by the laws of the trade. But (a-laek-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 absuid. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 4 1?9 As scolding the boy, and caging his 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, — For kisses, like folks with diminutive souls, Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes ! 'Twas 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 the ladies,") And losing her vail as she ran from the wood The monster bedabbled it over with blood. 180 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. Now Peter arriving, and seeing the vail 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 the vail, (which she happened to know,) She guessed, in a moment, the cause of his erring, And seizing the knife, Which had taken his life, In less than a jiffy was dead as a herring ! MORAL. Young gentlemen ! — pray recollect if you please, Not to make your appointments near mulberry-trees. Should your mistress be missing, it shows a weak head To be stabbing yourself, till you know she is dead. 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 ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 181 ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH LESSON. ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. — Webster. This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institu- tions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours, ours to enjoy, ours to preserve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and gener- ations to come, hold us responsible | for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious, paternal voices ; posterity calls out to us | from the bosom of the future ; the world turns hither | its solicitous eyes ; — all, all conjure us to act wisely and faithfully | in the relation | which we sustain. We can never, indeed, pay the debt | which is upon us ; but by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle | and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessing, through our day, and to leave it unimpaired to our children. Let us feel deeply how much, of what we are | and of what we possess, we owe to this liberty, and these institutions of gov- ernment. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil | which yields bounteously | to the hands of industry ; the mighty and fruitful ocean | is before us, and the skies over our heads | shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, with- out religious culture ? and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions | and a free government ? There is not one of us, there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience, in his own condition, and in the condition of those | most near and dear to him, the influence and the benefits of this liberty, and these institutions. Let us, then, acknowledge the blessing ; let us feel it deeply and powerfully ; let us cherish a strong 182 ELOCUTION MADE EASY affection for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, — let it not have been shed in vain ; the great hope of posterity, — let it not be blasted. The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world around us, cannot be altogether omitted here. Neither individ- uals nor nations can perform their part well, until they under- stand and feel its importance, and comprehend and justly appre- ciate all the duties belonging to it. It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty feeling of self-importance ; but it is, that we may judge justly of our situation, and of our own duties, that I earnestly urge this consideration of our posi- tion, and our character, among the nations of the earth. It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era com- mences in human affairs. This era is distinguished by free re- presentative governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly awakened and an unconquerable spirit of free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowl- edge through the community, such as has been before altogether unknown and unheard of. America, America, our country, our own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast bound up, in fortune and by fate, with these great interests. If they fall, we fall with them ; if they stand, it will be because we have upholden them. Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the prosperity of others to our own ; and let us manfully discharge all the duties which it imposes. If we cherish the virtues and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human liberty and human happiness. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 183 ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST LESSON LAMENT FOR GREECE. — By r 071. Clime of the unforgotten brave ! Whose land from plain to mountain cave Was freedom's home or glory's grave ! Shrine of the mighty ! can it be That this is all remains of thee ? Approach, thou craven crouching slave : Say, is not this Thermopylae ? These waters blue, that round you lave, Oh, servile offspring of the free — Pronounce what sea, what shore is this ? The gulf, the rock of Salamis ! These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires ; And he who in the strife expires, Will add to theirs a name of fear, That tyranny shall quake to hear, And leaves his sons a hope, a fame, They too would rather die than shame : For freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is never won. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid ; Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, 184 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. A mightier monument command — The mountains of their native land ! There points thy muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die ! 'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from splendor to disgrace ; Enough — no foreign foe could quell Thy soul, till from itself it fell ; Yes ! self-abasement paved the way To villain-bonds and despot sway. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. ADDRESS TO THE PATRIOTS OP THE REVOLU- TION. — Webster. Section 1. Venerable Men ! you have come down to us | from a for- mer generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives | that you might behold this joyous day. You are now | where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold how altered ! The same heavens | are indeed over your heads ; the same ocean | rolls at your feet : but all else | how changed ! You hear now | no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame ] rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetu- ous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is manly | to re- peated resistance; a thousand bosoms | freely and fearlessly bared in an instant | to whatever of terror | there may be in war | and death : all these you have witnessed, but you witness them I no more. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 185 Section 2. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw | filled with wives and children and countrymen j in distress and terror, and looking [ with unutterable emotions | for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day ] with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to greet you | with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position | appropriately lying | at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not the means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means | of distinc- tion and defence. You lived, at least, long enough to know that your work had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see your country's independence established, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise the light of Peace, and the sky on which you closed your eyes, was cloudless. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD LESSON LOVE OF COUNTRY. — Scott. Breathes there a man with soul so dead, "Who never to himself hath said, " This is my own, my native land !" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there be, go, mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles ; proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf The wretch, concentrated all in self, 186 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. Washington's birthday. — N. B. Blunt. The birth-day of Washington ! what thronging memories cluster round the hallowed day ! How swells the heart with patriotic pride at mention of the immortal name of Washing- ton ! Nearly seventy years have rolled into the abyss of time since that memorable era, when, forced by stern necessity, the parent country recognized the rights of her infant progeny, and acknowledged her existence as a sovereign and independent na- tion, the two or three millions who survived that deadly struggle have swelled into a teeming population of more than twenty millions — the sisterhood of the old thirteen has increased to a united family of thirty-one ; and the constrained limits of our ancient domain, overleaping the snow-capped ridges of the rocky barriers of the West, and breasting successfully the turbid waters of the Father of Rivers, now claim the mighty lakes and their outlets at the North, the Great River at the South, and the vast expanse of two mighty oceans East and West, as their present boundaries. The prophesies and taunts which, in greeting her birth, proclaimed for the infant Republic a sickly existence and premature death, have, like the authors, passed into oblivion. The war of the Revolution was not a mere contest about stamps, or a struggle about tea. It was a war of principle, a contest for supremacy of two great forces — arbitrary power on one side, and civil and religious liberty on the other. Between these opposing powers a war of ages had already ensued— — Baffled oft, — at times subdued — the ethereal spirit, although slumbering through the dark night of the Middle Ages, awoke SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 187 with the Reformation, and renewed the contest. From that time it has gone on triumphing and to triumph. u Human agency can not extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire, it may be smothered for a time ; the ocean may overwhelm it ; mountains may press it down, but its unconquerable force will heave both the ocean and the land, and at some time or other, in some place or other, the volcano will break out and flame up to heaven." The scaffold, the dungeon, and the prison-ship alike performed their works of vengeance and cruelty, during our great struggle. The battle-fields of the Revolution have now become classic ground, and the names of Saratoga, Mon- mouth, Trenton, and Yorlctown are familiar as household words. Through fire and blood the noble spirits of that day went on their course of national salvation. But a greater work still re- mained ; the work of framing a form of government for them- selves and posterity. That work has been accomplished. The great problem has been solved. The capacity of men for self- government is no longer an experiment, and, in the pride of honest fame, the American Republic stands before the world a vast and splendid monument of civil and religious liberty. Well may we, year after year, accord our joyous greeting at the return of that day which gave birth to him, who, under Providence, above all, and more than all, was the means of effecting great and enduring good. Trained to arms from early youth, he united in his person all the moral and physical qualities which belong to exalted station. This wisdom, patriotism and experience, pointed him out above all others as the chosen man ordained by Heaven to work out our emancipation. Welcome, thrice wel- come, then, be this glorious anniversary, and again let the cheer go forth with which we hail the birth-day of Washington. 188 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. bingen ON the ehine. — Mrs. Norton. A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, — There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said : " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; Take a message and a token, to some distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine ! " Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, — and when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. And midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, — The death-wound on their gallant breast, the last of many scars ; But some were young, — and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! " Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage : For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child, My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would — but kept my father's sword. And with boyish love I hung it where, the bright light used to shine, On the cottage-wall at Bingen, — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 189 " Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gal- lant tread ; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die. And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father's sword and mine,) For the honor of old Bingen, — dear Bingen on the Rhine ! " There's another — not a sister ; — in the happy days gone by, You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye : Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorning ; — Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ! Tell her the last night of my life — (for e'er this moon be risen My body will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison,) I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine, On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! " I saw the blue Rhine sweep along — I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, That echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk ; And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine, But we'll meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the Rhine !" His voice grew faint and hoarser, — his grasp was childish weak, — His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed and ceased to speak ; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, — The soldrer of the Legion, in a foreign land — was dead ; 190 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down, On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. SELF-MADE MEN. Columbus, the discoverer of America, in 1492, was a weaver. Franklin, the illustrious philosopher, was a journeyman printer. The eloquent Massilon, as well as the brilliant Fletcher, arose amidst the humblest vocations. Niebuhr, the celebrated trav- eler, was a peasant. Sixtus V. was the son of a gardener, and in his youth was employed in keeping swine. The great Rollin, the historian, was the son of a cutler, and Burns, the celebrated Scottish poet, was a plowman. iEsop, the author of the celebrated fables which have so often delighted us in days gone by, was a slave. Homer was a beggar. Daniel Defoe, the author of Robinson Crusoe, was apprenticed to a shoemaker, and was afterwards a cabin-boy. Demosthenes, the great orator, was the son of a cutler. Hogarth, the painter, was an apprentice to an engraver of arms on silver plate. Virgil, the great Roman poet, was the son of a baker. Mallet, a good writer, rose from extreme poverty. Gay the poet, was an apprentice to a silk mercer. Ben Jonson was a bricklayer. Porson, the renowned professor, was the son of a parish clerk. Bishop Prideaux was at one time employed to sweep Exeter College, in England. Akenside, the poet, was the son of a butcher. Pope was the son of a merchant. Cervantes, a well-known Spanish writer, was a common soldier. Gifford and Bloomfield, both excellent poets, were shoemakers. Howard, the philanthropist, was apprenticed to a grocer. Halley, the well-known astronomer, was the son of a soap SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 191 boiler. The parents of Sir Richard Arkwright, were very poor, and he was a barber for a number of years. Belzoni, the cele- brated Egyptian traveler, was the son of a barber. Barry, an eminent painter, was originally a mason. Blackstone, the cele- brated lawyer, was the son of a linen-draper. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. " PRESS ON." — P. Benjamin. Press on ! there's no such word as fail ! Press nobly on ! the goal is near ; Ascend the mountain : breast the gale ! Look upward, onward — never fear ! Why should'st thou faint ? Heaven smiles above, Though storm and vapor intervene ; That sun shines on, whose name is Love, Serenely o'er life's shadowed scene. Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch ; He fails alone who feebly creeps ; He wins, who dares the hero's march. Be thou a hero ! let thy might Tramp on eternal snows its way, And through the ebon walls of night, Hew down a passage unto day. Press on ! if Fortune plays thee false, To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, Taking old gifts and granting new. The wisdom of the present hour Makes up for follies past and gone ; To weakness strength succeeds, and power From frailty springs — press on ! press on ! 192 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Therefore press on ! and reach the goal, And gain the prize, and wear the crown ; Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul Come wealth, and honor, and renown. To thine own self be true, and keep Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; Press on ! and thou shall surely reap A heavenly harvest for thy toil ! ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON THE WIND IN A FROLIC. — Homt. The wind one morning sprung up from sleep, Saying " Now for a frolic ! now for a leap ! Now for a mad-cap galloping chase ! I'll make a commotion in every place !" So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Creaking the signs, and scattering down Shutters : and whisking with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls ; There never was heard a much lustier shout, As the apples and oranges tumbled about ; And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize. Then away to the field it went blustering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming ; Till, offended at such a familiar salute, They all turned their backs and stood silently mute. So on it went, capering and playing its pranks, Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks ; Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveler grave on the king's highway. It was not too nice to bustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags : SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 193 'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig, and the gentleman's cloak. Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, " Now, You sturdy old oaks I'll make you bow I" And it made them bow without more ado, And cracked their great branches through and through. Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm, And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps. The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd : There were rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone ; But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain : For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and he stood With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. THE MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF ocean. — Walsh's National Gazette. Lonely and wild it rose, That strain of solemn music from the sea, As though the bright air trembled to disclose An ocean mystery. Again a low, sweet tone, Fainting in murmurs on the listening day, Just bade the excited thought its presence own, Then died away. 194 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. * Once more the gush of sound Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain, Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around, And fled again. O boundless deep ! we know Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed, Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow Sunlight is sealed. And an eternal spring - Showers her rich colors with unsparing hand, Where coral trees, their graceful branches fling O'er golden sand. But tell, O restless main ! Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath, That thus the watery realm cannot contain The joy they breathe % Emblem of glorious might ! Are thy wild children like thyself arrayed, Strong in immortal and unchecked delight, Which cannot fade ? Alas -for human thought ! How does it flee existence, worn and old, To win companionship with beings wrought Of finer mould ! 'Tis vain the reckless waves Join with loud revel the dim ages flown, But keep each secret of their hidden caves, Dark and unknown. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 195 ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH LESSON. THE murderer. — Webster. Gentlemen, this is a most extraordinary case. In some respects it has hardly a precedent anywhere— certainly none in our New England history. An aged man, without an enemy in the world, in his own house, and in his own bed, is made the victim of a brutal murder, for mere pay. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man to whom sleep was sweet — the first sound slumbers of the night hold him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the window, already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment ; with noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon ; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges ; and he enters and beholds his victim before him. The room was uncommonly light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the murderer ; and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given, and the victim passes, without a struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death ! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work, and he yet plies the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and re- places it again over the wounds of the poniard ! To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse ! he feels it, and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished ! the deed is done ! He retreats — retraces his steps to the window, passes through as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder ; no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him ; the secret is his own, and he is safe. 196 ELOCUTION MADE EAST. Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the splendor of noon, — such secrets of guilt are never safe ; " murder will out." True it is that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of heaven, by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected with the time and place ; a thousand ears catch every whisper ; a thou- sand excited minds intently dwell on the scene ; shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is false to itself — or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself — it labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The hu- man heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant ; it finds itself preyed on by a torment which it dares not acknowl- edge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him ; and like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master ; — it betrays his discretion ; it breaks down his courage ; it conquors his prudence. When suspicions, from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater vio- lence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed ; there is no refuge from confession but in suicide, and suicide is confession* SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 19? ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. the Spanish champion. — Mrs. Hemana. The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; " I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! — ! break my father's chain [" " Rise, rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man, this day ! Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his way." Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. And lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land : " Now, haste, Bernado, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see. " His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went ; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dis- mounting, bent ; 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, it dropped from his like lead! He looked up to the face above, the face was of the dead ! 198 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and white : He met, at last, his father's eyes, but in them was no sight ! Up from the ground he sprang and gazed ; but who could paint that gaze ? They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze : They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood ; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. " Father !" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then; Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown, He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, " No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword for, now, My king is false, my hope betrayed ! My father — ! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth ! I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet! I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! Thou would'st have known my spirit then ; for thee my fields were won ; And thou hast perished in thy thy chains, as though thou hadst no son P SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 199 Then starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier's train ; And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face, the king before the dead ! 11 Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss f Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this ? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, give answer, where are they ? If thou would'st clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay ! " Into those glassy eyes put light ; be still, keep down thine ire ! Bid these white lips a blessing speak, this earth is not my sire : Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed ! Thou canst not ? and, a king ! his dust be mountains on thy head !" He loosed the steed, his slack hand fell ; upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place : His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. SHIP OF state.— H. W. Longfellow. " Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, 200 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel, , What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, — 'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flappiug of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee, are all with thee !" ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. THE WORLD FOR SALE. — Rev. Ralph Hoyt. The world for sale ! Hang out the sign ; Call every traveler here to me : Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, And set this weary spirit free ? 'Tis going ! yes, I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away ; I'll sell it, whatsoe'er in bring : The world at auction here to-day ! It is a glorious sight to see, But, ah ! it has deceived me sore ; It is not what it seems to be, For sale ! it shall be mine no more. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 201 Come, turn it o'er and view it well : I would not have you purchase dear. ; Tis going ! going ! I must sell ! Who bids ? who'll buy the splendid tear ? Here's wealth, in glittering heaps of gold ; Who bids ? But let me tell you fair, A baser lot was never sold ! Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care ? And, here, spread out in broad domain, A goodly landscape all may trace, Hall, cottage, tree, field, hill and plain ; — Who'll buy himself a burial place ? Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell That Beauty flings around the heart ; I know its power, alas ! too well ; 'Tis going ! Love and I must part ! Must part ? What can I more with Love ? All over 's the enchanter's reign. Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove, — A breath of bliss, a storm of pain ? And, Friendship, rarest gem of earth ; Who e'er hath found the jewel his ? Frail, fickle, false and little worth, Who bids for Friendship — as it is ? 'Tis going ! going ! hear the call ; Once, twice, and thrice, 'tis very low ! 'Twas once my hope, my stay, my all, But now the broken staff must go ! Fame ! hold the brilliant meteor high ; How dazzling every gilded name ! . Ye millions ! now's the time to buy, How much for Fame ? how much for Fame 202 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Hear how it thunders ! Would you stand On high Olympus, far renowned, Now purchase, and a world command ! — And be with a world's curses crowned. Sweet star of Hope ! with ray to shine In every sad forboding breast, Save this desponding one of mine, — Who bids for man's last friend and best ? Ah ! were not mine a bankrupt life, This treasure should my soul sustain ! But Hope and Care are now at strife, Nor ever may unite again. Ambition, fashion, show and pride, I part from all for ever now ; Grief, in an overwhelming tide, Has taught my haughty heart to bow. By Death, stern sheriff! all bereft, I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod ; The best of all I still have left, — My Faith, my Bible, and my God ! ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. OCCASIONAL prologue. — Anonymous . Dear friends, we thank you for your condescension, In deigning thus to lend us your attention ; And hope the various pieces we recite (Boys though we are), will yield you some delight. From wisdom and from knowledge, pleasure springs, Surpassing far the glaring pomp of kings ; All outward splendor quickly dies away, But wisdom's honors never can decay. Surpassing — exceeding. Pomf — display. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 203 Blest is the man who treads her paths in youth, They lead to virtue, happiness, and truth ;— Sages and patriots in these ways have trod, Saints have walked in them, till they reached their God. The powers of eloquence can charm the soul, Inspire the virtuous, and the bad control ; Can rouse the passions, or their rage can still, And mould a stubborn mob to one man's will. Such powers the great Demosthenes attained, Who haughty Philip's conquering course restrained ; Indignant thundering at his country's shame, Till every breast in Athens caught the flame. Such powers were Cicero's : — with patriot might, He dragged the lurking treason forth to light, Which long had festered in the heart of Eome, And saved his country from her threatened doom. Nor to the senate or the bar confined, The ^pulpit shows its influence o'er the mind ; Such glorious deeds can eloquence achieve : Such fame, such deathless laurels, it can give. Then say not this, our weak attempt, is vain, For frequent practice will perfection gain ; The fear to speak in public it destroys, And drives away the bashfulness of boys. Sages— wise men. Patriots — lovers of their country. Laueel — a tree of which wreaths of honor were formerly made. 204 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Various the pieces we to-night repeat, And in them various excellences meet, Some rouse the soul, — some gently sooth the ear, " From grave to gay, from lively to severe.'' We would your kind indulgence then bespeak, For awkward manner, and for utterance weak, Our , owers, indeed, are feeble : — but our aim Is not to rival Greek or Roman fame ; Our sole ambition aims at you applause, We are but young — let youth then plead our cause ; And if your approbation be obtained, Our wish is answered and our end is gained. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. occasional epilogue. — Anonymous. Our parts are perform'd and our speeches are ended — We are monarchs, and courtiers, and heroes no more : To a much humbler station again we've descended, And are now but the schoolboys you've known us before. Farewell ! then our greatness — 'tis gone like a dream, 'Tis gone — but remembrance will often retrace The indulgent applause which rewarded each theme, And the heart-cheering smiles that enlivened each face. Monarchs — kings. Courtiers — attendants on courts. Heroes — great warriors. Retrace — to trace back. Indulgent — kind. Applause — praise. Theme — subject. Enliven — animate. SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 205 We thank you ! — Our gratitude words cannot tell, But deeply we feel it — to you it belongs ; With heartfelt emotion we bid you farewell, And our feelings now thanks you much more than our tongues. We will strive to improve since applauses thus cheer us ; That our juvenile efforts may gain your kind looks ; And we hope to convince you the next time you hear us, That praise has but sharpen'd our relish for books. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. excelsior. — H. W> Lmgfellow. The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior I* His brow was sad ; his eye, beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath ; And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior ! In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior ! * Higher 206 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. " Try not to pass !" the old man said " Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; The roaring torrent is deep and wide !" — And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior ! " Oh ! stay," the maiden said, " and rest Thy weary head upon this breast !" — A tear stood in his bright blue eye ; But still he answered with a sigh, Excelsior ! " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! Beware the awful avalanche !" This was the peasant's last good-night ; — A voice replied far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of St. Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried, through the startled air, Excelsior ! A traveler, — by the faithful hound, Half buried in the snow, was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice, The banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! There, in the twilight cold and gfay, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, — Excelsior ! DIALOGUES. 207 ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. old fickle and His SON. — J. T. Mingham. Old Fickle. What reputation, what honor what profit, can accrue to you from such conduct as yours ? One moment you tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. Tristram FicMe. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. Old F. Then, from a fiddler, you are metamorphosed into a philosopher ; and, for the noise of drums, trumpets and haut- boys, you substitute a wild jargon, more unintelligible than was ever heard at the tower of Babel. Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy is folly : so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper, the other day, for barrelling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live like Diogenes ? Tri, You should not have paid him anything, sir ; for the tub would not hold. You see the contents are run out. Old F. No jesting, sir ! this is no laughing matter. Your follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have been 01 fifty different minds in half an hour. Tri. And by that, shown the versatility of my genius, Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir ! Let me see a little steadiness. You have never yet been constant to anything but extravagance. Tri. Yes, sir, — one thing more. Old F. What is that, sir ? Tri. Affection for you, sir. However my head may have wandered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the 208 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. fondest of parents ; and, from this moment, I am resolved to lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. Old F. Well said, my boy, — well said ! You make me happy, indeed ! [Patting him on the shoulder^] Now, then, my dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. Tri. To study law — Old F. The law ! Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. Old F. No ! Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. Old F. Better and better ! I am overjoyed. Why, 'tis the very thing I wished. Now I am happy ! [Tristram makes gestures as if speaking.'] See how his mind is engaged ! Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury — Old F. Why Tristram ! Tri. This is a cause — Old F. O, my dear boy ! I forgive you all your tricks. I see something about you now that I can depend on. [Tristram continues making gestures^] Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause — Old F. Bravo ! bravo ! Excellent boy. I'll go and order your books, directly ? Tri. 'Tis done, sir. Old F. What, already ! Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books, when I first thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot ? Tri. By tho foot, sir ; that is the only way to become a solid lawyer. Old F. Twelve square feet of learning ! Well — Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber — Old F. A barber ? What, is he to teach you to shave close ? Tri. He is to shave one half of my head, sir ! Old F. You will excuse me, if I cannot perfectly understand what that has to do with the study of the law. DIALOGUES. 209 Tri. Did you never near of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian orator ? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up in a coal cellar. Old F. Ah ! he was perfectly right to lock himself up, after having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly would have made rather an odd figure abroad. Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism of his countrymen, — lightning in his eye, and thunder in his voice ; he pours out a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its force ; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks ; he denounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers ; he exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending ruin; he threatens the tyrant, — they grasp their swords ; he calls for vengeance,-— their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and thou- sands reverberate the cry ! One soul animates a nation, and that soul is the soul of the orator ! Old F. 0, what a figure he will make on the King's Bench ! But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you will see how happily this determination of yours will further it. You have [Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speak- ing'] often heard me speak of my friend, Briefwit, the barrister — Tri. Who is against me in this cause — Old F. He is a most learned lawyer — Tri. But as I have justice on my side — Old F. Zounds ! he doesn't hear a word I say ! Why, Tris- tram ! Tris. I beg your pardon, sir ; I was prosecuting my studies. Old F. Now, attend — Tris. As my learned friend observes — Go on, sir ; I am all attention. Old F. Well, my friend the counsellor — Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen of the law always — Old F. Well, well, — my learned friend — Tri. A black patch ! Old F. Will you listen, and be silent ? 210 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Tri. I am as mute as a judge ! Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward who is very handsome, and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you a charming wife. Tri. This is an action — Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness and his gravity — Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. Old F. But now as you are grown serious and steady, and have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you together ; you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest follows, of course, Tri. A verdict in my favor. Old F. You marry, and sit down, nappy for life. Tri. In the King's Bench. Old F. Bravo ! Ha, ha, ha ! But now run to your study — run to your study, my dear Tristram, and I will go and call upon the counsellor. Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. [Hur- rying him off.~\ Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury, this is a cause — [Fxit.~] Old F. The inimitable boy ! I am now the happiest father living. What genius he has ! He'll be lord chancellor, one day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents ! O, how I long to see him at the bar ! ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON. WHY AN APPLE FALLS? Henry. Charles, I have been reading to-day that Sir Isaac Newton was led to make some of his great discoveries by seeing an apple fall from a tree. What was there remarkable in that? DIALOGUES. 211 Charles. There was nothing extraordinary ; but it happened to catch his attention and set him a thinking. H. And what did he think about ? C. He thought by what means the apple was brought to the ground. H. Why, I could have told him that — because the stalk gave way, and there was nothing to keep it up. C. And what then 3 H. Why then—it must fall, you know. 0. But why must it fall ? — that is the point. H. Because it could not help it. C. But why could it not help it ? H. I don't know — that is an odd question. Because there was nothing to keep it up. C. Suppose there was not — does it follow that it must come to the ground ? If. Yes, surely ! C. Is an apple animate* or inanimate ?f H. Inanimate to be sure. C. And can inanimate things move of themselves ? H. No — I think not — but the apple falls because it is forced to fall. C. Right ! Some force out of itself acts upon it ; otherwise it would remain for ever where it was, notwithstanding it were loosened from the tree. H. Would it? C. Certainly !— for there are only two ways in which it could be moved ; by its own power of motion, or the power of some- what else moving it. Now, the first you acknowledge it has not ; the cause of its motion must therefore be the second. And what that is, was the subject of Sir Isaac Newton's inquiry. H. But everything falls to the ground as well as an apple, when there is nothing to keep it up. C. True — there must therefore be an universal cause of this tendency to fall. * Animate — alive. j- Inanimate — not alive. 212 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. H. And what is it ? C. Why, if things out of the earth cannot move themselves to it, there can be no other cause of their coming together, than that the earth pulls them. H. But the earth is no more animate than they are ; so how can it pull ? 0. Well objected. This will bring us to the point. Sir Isaac Newton, after deep meditation, discovered that there was a law in nature,' called attraction, by which every particle of matter, that is, everything of which the world is composed, draws to- wards it every other particle of matter, with a force proportioned to its size and distance. Lay two marbles on a table. They have a tendency to come together, and if there were nothing else in the world, they would come together ; but they are also attracted by the table, by the ground, and by everything besides in the room ; and these dif- ferent attractions pull against each other. Now, the globe of the earth is a prodigious mass of matter, to which nothing near it can bear any comparison. It draws, therefore, with mighty force everything within its reach, which is the cause of their falling ; and this is called the gravitation of bodies, or what gives them weight. When I lift up anything, I act contrary to this force, for which reason it seems heavy to me ; and the heavier, the more matter it contains, since that increases the attraction of the earth for it. Do you understand this ? H. I think I do. It is like the loadstone drawing the needle. C. Yes — that is an attraction, but of a particular kind, only taking place between the magnet and iron. But gravitation, or the attraction of the earth, acts upon everything alike. H. Then it is pulling you and me at this moment. C. It is. H. But why do we not stick to the ground, then ? C. Because as we are alive, we have a power of self-motion, which can, to a certain degree, overcome the attraction of tha earth. But the reason you cannot jump a mile high as well a? DIALOGUES. 213 a foot is this attraction, which brings you down again after the force of your jump is spent. H. I think then I begin to understand what I have heard of people living on the other side of the world. I believe they are called Antipodes, who have their feet turned towards ours, and their heads in the air. I used to wonder how it could be that they did not fall off, but I suppose the earth pulls them to it. C. Very true. And whither should they fall ? What have they over their heads. H. I don't know — sky, I suppose. C. They have. The earth is a vast ball, hung in the air, and continually spinning round, and that is the cause why the sun and stars seem to rise and set. At noon, we have the sun over our heads, when the Antipodes have the stars over theirs. So whither should they fall, more than we ? — to the stars or the sun ? H. But we are up, and they are down. C- What is up, but from the earth and towards the sky ? Their feet touch the earth and their heads point to the sky as well as ours ; and we are under their feet, as much as they are under ours. If a hole were dug quite through the earth, what would you see through it ? H. Sky, with the sun or stars ; and now I see the whole matter plainly. But pray, what supports the earth in the air ? C. Why, where should it go to f H. I don't hnow — I suppose where there was most to draw it. I have heard that the sun was a great many times larger than the earth. Would it not go to that? C. You have thought very justly on the matter, I perceive. But I shall take another opportunity of showing you how this is, and why the earth does not fall into the sun, of which I con- fess there seems to be some danger. Meanwhile think how far the falling of an apple has carried us ? H. To the Antipodes, and I know not where. C. You may see from thence what use may be made of the most common fact by a thinking mind. 214 - DIALOGUES. DIALOGUES. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN Charles. Well, friend William ! I have sold you a noble pro- vince in North America; but still I suppose you have no thoughts of going thither yourself. Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles ; and I am iust come to bid thee farewell. Char. What ! venture yourself among the savages of North America ! Why, man, what security have you that you will not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot en their shores ? Penn. The best security in the world. Char. I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any security against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good sol- diers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you beforehand, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a sin- gle soldier with you. Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles : I depend on something better than thy soldiers. Char. Ah ! and what may that be ? Penn. Why, I depend upon themselves — on the workings of their own hearts — on their notions of justice — on their moral sense. Char. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ; but I fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North America. Penn And why not among them, as well as others ? Char. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done. Penn. That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to North America, they found these poor people the fondest and ' kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 215 for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on the best fish, and venison, and corn, which was all that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting-grounds, for farms for themselves .' Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people should have been driven to desperation by such injustice ; and that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some excesses ? Char. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they come to treat you in the same manner. Venn. I am not afraid of it. Char. Ah ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get their hunting-grounds too, I suppose ? Penn. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from them. Char. No, indeed ! How then will you get the lands ? Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them. Char. Buy their lands of them ! Why, man, you have already bought them of me. Penn. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too ; but I did it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any right to their lands. Char. How, man ! no right to their lands ! Venn. No, friend Charles, no right at all : what right hast thou to their lands ? Char. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure ; the right which the pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one another. Penn. The right of discovery ! A strange kind of right, in- deed ! Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe-loads of these Indians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head, — what wouldst thou think of it ? t. Char. Why — why — why — I must confess, I should think it a piece of great impudence in them. Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Chris* tian prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these people, whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles r 14 216 DIALOGUES. and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, having weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away, — wouldst thou not think it horribly cruel ? Char. I must say that I should, friend William ; how can I say otherwise ? Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, do what I should abhor even in heathen ? No, I will not do it But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the In dians themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, in his justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. CAPTAIN HARDY NATHAN. AnOTtymOUS. Nathan. Good morning, captain. How do you stand this hot weather ? Captain. Bless you, boy, it's a cold bath to what we had at Monmouth ? Did I ever tell you about that-are battle ? N. I have always understood that it was dreadful hot that day! Cap. Bless you, boy, it makes my crutch sweat to think on't —and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things about that-are battle, sich as you wouldn't believe, you rogue, if 1 didn't tell you. It beats all natur how hot it was. N. I wonder you did not all die of heat and fatigue. Cap. Why, so we should, if the reg'lars had only died first , but, you see, they never liked the Jarseys, and wouldn't lay their bones there. Now if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you all about that-are business, for you see they don't do things so now-a-days. N. How so ? Do not people die as they used to ? Cap. Bless you, no. It beat all natur to see how long the reg'lars would kick after we killed them. N. What ! kick after they were killed ! That does beat all natur, as you say. ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 217 Cap. Come, boy, no splitting hairs with an old continental, for you see, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things about that-are battle, that you'd never believe. Why, bless you, when gineral Washington telled us we might give it to 'em, we gin it to em, I tell you. N. You gave what to them ? Cap. Cold lead, you rogue. Why, bless you, we fired twice to their once, you see ; and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how we did it. You must know, the reg'lars wore their close-bodied red coats, because they thought we were afeared on 'em, but we did not wear any coats, you see, because we hadn't any. N. How happened you to be without coats ? Cap. Why, bless you, they would wear out, and the States couldn't buy us any more, you see, and so we marched the lighter, and worked the freer for it. Now if I did not hate long stories, I would tell you what the gineral said to me next day, when I had a touch of the rheumatiz from lying on the field without a blanket all night. You must know, it was raining hard just then, and we were pushing on like all natur arter the reg'lars. N. What did the gineral say to you ? Cap. Not a syllable, says he, but off comes his coat, and he throws it over my shoulders, " there, captain," says he, " wear that, for we can't spare you yet." Now don't that beat all natur, hey ? N. So you wore the general's coat, did you ? Cap. Lord bless your simple heart, no. I didn't feel sick arter that, I tell you. No, gineral, says I, they can spare me better than they can you, just now, and so I'll take the will for the deed, says I. N. You will never forget this kindness, captain. Cap. Not I, boy ! I never feel a twinge of the rheumatiz but what I say, God bless the gineral. Now you see, I hate long stories, or I'd tell you how I gin it to a reg'lar that tried tc shoot the gineral at Monmouth. You know we were at close quarters, and the gineral was right between the two fires. jV. I wonder he was not shot. Cap. Bless your ignorant soul, nobody could kill the gineral ; 218 DIAL0GUE8. but you see, a sneaking reg'lar didn't know this, and so he levelled his musket at him, and you see, I seed what he was arter, and I gin the gineral's horse a slap on the haunches, and it beats all natur how he sprung, and the gineral all the while as straight as a gun-barrel. N. And you saved the gineral's life. Cap. Didn't I tell you nobody could kill the gineral ? but, you see, his horse was in the rake of my gun, and I wanted to get the start of that cowardly reg'lar. JV". Did you hit him ? Cap. Bless your simple soul, do<"t the thunder hit where it strikes ! though the fellow made ae blink a little, for he car- ried away part of this ear. — Ste there ! (Showing his ear.) Now don't that beat all natur ? N. I think it does. But tell me, how is it that you took all these things so calmly ? What made you so contented under your privations and hardships ? Cap. Oh, bless your young soul, we got used to it. Besides, you see, the gineral never flinched nor grumbled N. Yes, but you served without being paid. Cap. So did the gineral, and the States, you know, were poor as all natur. N. But you had families to support. Cap. Ay, ay, but the gineral always told us that God and our country would take care of them, you see. Now, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how it turned out just as he said, for he beat all natur for guessing light. N. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you have done for your country, and what she has done for you ? Cap. Why, bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs at York town, I wouldn't have touched a stiver of the States' money, and as it is, I am so old, that I shall not need it long. You must know, I long to see the gineral again, for if he don't hate long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all about America, you see, for it beats all natur how things have changed s;~3e he left us ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 219 ONE HUNDRED AND FORTIETH LESSON. DIALOGUE ON PHYSIOGNOMY. Frank. It appears strange to me that people can be so im- posed upon. There is no difficulty in judging folks by their looks. I profess to know as much of a man, at the first view, as by a half dozen years' acquaintance. Henry. Pray, how is that done ? I should wish to learn such an art. Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Physiognomy ? Hen. No. What do you mean by such a hard word ? Fr. Physiognomy means a knowledge of men's hearts, thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For instance, if you see a man with a forehead jutting over his eyes like a piazza ; with a pair of eyebrows heavy like the cornice of a house ; with full eyes, and a Roman nose, — depend on it, he is a great scholar, and an honest man. Hen. It seems to me I should rather go below his nose, to discover his scholarship. Fr. By no means : if you look for beauty, you may descend to the mouth and chin ; otherwise never go below the region of the brain. Enter George. George. Well, I have been to see the man hanged. And he has gone to the other world, with just such a great forehead, and Roman nose, as you have always been praising. Fr. Remember, George, all signs fail in dry weather. Geor. Now, be honest, Frank, and owr that there is nothing in all this science of yours. The only way to know men is by their actions. If a man commit burglary, think you a Roman nose ought to save him from punishment ? Fr. I don't carry my notions so far as that ; but it is certain that all the faces in the world are different ; and equally true that each has some marks about it, by which one can discover the temper and character of the person. 14* 220 DIALOGUES. Enter Peter. Peter [to Frank']. Sir, I have heard of your fame from Dan to Beersheba ; that you can know a man by his face, and can tell his thoughts by his looks. Hearing this, I have visited you, without the ceremony of an introduction. Fr. Why, indeed, I profess something in that way. Pet. By that forehead, nose, and those eyes of yours, one might be sure of an acute, penetrating mind. Fr. I see that you are not ignorant of Physiognomy. Pet. I am not ; but still I am so far from being an adept in the art, that unless the features are very remarkable, I cannot determine with certainty. But yours is the most striking face I ever saw. There is a certain firmness in the lines which lead from the outer verge to the centre of the apple of your eye, which denotes great forecast, deep thought, bright inven- tion, and a genius for great purposes. Fr. You are a perfect master of the art. And to show you that I know something of it, permit me to observe, that the form of your face denotes frankness, truth, and honesty. Your heart is a stranger to guile, your lips to deceit, and your hands to fraud. Pet. I must confess that you have hit upon my true charac- ter, though a different one from what I have sustained in the view of the world. Fr. {to Henry and George.] Now see two strong examples of the truth of physiognomy. [ While he is saying this, Peter takes out his pocket-book, and makes off with himself.] Now, can you conceive, that, ■without this knowledge, I could fathom the character of a total stranger ? Hen. Pray, tell us by what marks you discovered that in his neart and lips were no guile, and in his hands no fraud ! Fr. Ay, leave that to me ; we are not to reveal our secrets. But I will show you a face and character which exactly suit nim. {Feels for his pocket-book in both pockets, looks wild and concerned.] Geor. [Tauntingly.] Ay, " in his heart is no guile, m his lips no deceit, and in his hands no fraud ! Now we see a strong example of the power of physiognomy !" ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 221 Fr. He is a wretch ! a traitor against every good sign ! I'll pursue him to the ends of the earth. {Offers to go.] Hen. Stop a moment. His fine, honest face is far enough before this time. You have not yet discovered the worst in- jury he has done you. Fr. What's that? I had no watch or money for him to steal. Hen. By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of any just conception of yourself ; he has betrayed you into a foolish be- lief that you are possessed of most extraordinary genius and talents. Whereas, separate from the idle whim about physi- ognomy, you have no more pretence to genius or learning than a common school-boy. Learn henceforth to estimate men's hands by their deeds, their lips by their words, and their hearts by their lives. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST LESSON. THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. Cooper. Major Lincoln. i British Officers. Captain McJBuse, ) Seth Sage, a shrewd Yankee Prisoner. Job Pray, a Simpleton. Lincoln. What have we here % Of what offence has Mr. Sage been guilty, that he bears those bonds 1 McFuse. Of the small crimes of tr'ason and homicide, if shooting at a man, with a hearty mind to kill him. can make a murder. Sage. It can't. A man must kill, with wicked intent, to commit murder. McFuse. Hear to the blackguard, datailing the law, as if he were my Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench ! And what was your own wicked intention, ye skulking vagabond, but to kill me % I'll have you tried and hung for the same act. 222 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Sage. It's ag'in reason to believe that any jury will con- vict one man for the murder of another that ain't dead. There's no jury to be found in the Bay colony to do it. McFuse. Bay colony ! ye murdering thief and rebel ! I'll have ye transported to England ; ye shall be both transported and hung. I'll carry ye back to Ireland with me, and I'll hang ye up in the green island itself, and bury ye, in the heart of winter, in a bog ! Lincoln. But what is the offence that calls forth these severe threats 1 McFuse. The scoundrel has been out. Lincoln. Out ! McFuse. Ay, out, and be hanged to him, sir ! Has not the whole country been like so many bees in search of a hive? Is your memory so short, that ye forget, already, Major Lincoln, the tramp the blackguards have given you over hill and dale, through thick and thin ? Lincoln. And was Mr. Sage, then, found among our ene- mies to-day % McFuse. Didn't I see him pull trigger on my own stature three times within as many minutes ? and didn't he break the handle of my sword ? and have not I a bit of lead he calls a buck-shot in my shoulder, as a present from the thief % Job. It's ag'in all law to call a man a thief, unless you can prove it upon him. McFuse. Do you hear the rascals? They know every angle of the law as well, or better than I do myself, who am the son of a Cork counsellor. I dare to say you were among them too, and that ye deserve the gallows as well as your commendable companion, there. Lincoln. How is this ? Did you not only mingle in this rebellion, Mr. Sage, )>ut also attempt the life of a gentleman who may be said, almost t to be an inmate of your own house 1 Sage. I conclude it's best not to talk too much, seeing that no one can foretell what may happen. DIALOGUES. 223 McFuse. Hear to the cunning reprobate ! He has not the grace to acknowledge his own sins, like an honest man. But I can save him that small trouble. I brought him in, as you see, intending to hang him the first favorable oppor- tunity. Lincoln. If this be true, we must give him into the hands of the proper authorities ; for it remains to be seen yet what course will be adopted with the prisoners in this singular contest. McFuse. I should think nothing of the matter, if the reprobate had not tr'ated me like a beast of the field with his buckshot ; and taking his aim each time, as though I had been a mad dog. Ye villain ! do you call yourself a man, and aim at a fellow-creature as you would at a brute % Sage. Why, when a man has pretty much made up his mind to fight, I conclude it's best to take aim, in order to save ammunition and time. Lincoln. You acknowledge the charge, then ? Sage. As the major is a moderate man, and will hear to reason, I will talk the matter over with him rationally. You see I had a small call to Concurd, early this morning Lincoln. Concord ! Sage. Yes, Concurd ; it lies here-away, say twenty or one-and-twenty miles McFuse. Hang your Concords and your miles too ! Is there a man in the army who can forget the desateful place 1 Go on with your defence, without talking to us of the dis- tance, who have measured the road by inches. Sage. The captain is hasty and rash ! — But. being there, I went out of town with some company that I happened in with ; and, after a time, we concluded to return. And so, as we came to a bridge, about a mile beyond the place, we received considerable rough treatment from some of the king's troops, who were standing there Lincoln. What did they 1 224 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Sage. They fired at us, and killed two of our company besides other threatening doings. There were some among us that took the matter up in considerable airnest ; and there was a sharp toss about it for a few minutes — though finally the law prevailed. Lincoln. The law ! Sage. Sartin — tis ag'in all law, I believe the major will own, to shoot peaceable men on the public highway. Lincoln. Proceed with your tale in your own way. Sage. That is pretty much the whole of it. The people rather took that, and some other things that happened, at Lexington, to heart ; — and — I suppose the major knows the rest. McFuse. But what has all this to do with your attempt to murder me, you hypocrite ? Confess the whole, ye thief, that I may hang you with an aisy conscience ! Lincoln. Enough ; the man has acknowledged sufficient already to justify us in transferring him to the custody of others. Let him be taken to the main guard, and delivered as a prisoner of this day. Sage. I hope the major will look to my things. I shall hold him accountable for all. Lincoln. Your property shall be protected, and I hope your life may not be in jeopardy. Job. The king can't hang Seth Sage for firing back, when the reg'lars fired first. McFuse. Perhaps you were out, too, Master Solomon — amusing yourself at Concord, with a small party of select friends % Job. Job didn't go any further than Lexington ; and he hasn't got any friend, except old Nab. McFuse. * # * Satan has possessed the minds of the peo- ple ! Lawyers and doctors — praists and sinners — old and young — girls and women — big and little — beset us in our march ; and here is a fool to be added to the number ! I DIALOGUES. 225 dare say that fellow, now, has attempted to murder in his day, too. Job. Job scorns such wickedness. He only shot one granny, and hit an officer in the arm. McFuse. D'ye hear that, Major Lincoln ? D'ye hear that shell of a man — that effigy — boasting of having killed a grenadier ? Lincoln. Hold ! — Remember we are soldiers, and that the boy is not a responsible being. No tribunal would ever sen- tence such an unfortunate creature to the gibbet ; and, in general, he is as harmless as a babe McFuse. ***** Hang such babes ! A pretty fellow is he to kill a man of six feet! and with a ducking gun, I'll engage. — I'll not hang the rascal, Major Lincoln, since it is your particular wish I'll only have him buried alive. Lincoln. Foolish boy ! did I not warn you that wicked men might endanger your life ? How was it that I saw you in arms to-day, against the troops ? Job. How came the troops in arms ag'in Job? They needn't think to wheel about the Bay province, clashing their godless drums and trumpets, burning housen, and shooting people, and find no stir about it ! Lincoln. Do you know that your life has been twice for- feited within twelve hours, by your own confession ? — once for murder, and again for treason against your king? You have acknowledged killing a man. Job. Yes — Job shot the granny ; but he didn't let the people kill Major Lincoln. Lincoln. True, true ; I owe my life to you ; — and that debt shall be cancelled at every hazard. 226 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND LESSON. PEDANTS SEEKING PATRONAGE. — Anon. Digit, a Mathematician. Trill, a Musician. Sesquipedalia, a Linguist and Philosopher. Drone, a servant of Mr. Morrell, in whose house the scene is laid. Digit — alone. Digit. If theologians are in want of a proof that mankind are daily degenerating, let them apply to me, Archimedes Digit. I can furnish them with one as clear as any demonstration in Euclid's third or fifth book; and it is this — the sublime and exalted science of mathematics is falling into general disuse. Oh, that the patriotic inhabitants of this extensive country, should suffer so degrading a circumstance to exist ! Why, yes- terday, I asked a lad of fifteen, which he preferred, algebra or geometry ; and he told me — oh horrible ! he told me he had never studied them ! I was thunderstruck, I was astonished, I was petrified ! Never studied geometry ! never studied algebra ! and fifteen years old ! The dark ages are returning. Heathen- ish obscurity will soon overwhelm the world, unless I do some- thing immediately to enlighten it ; and for this purpose I have now applied to Mr. Morrell, who lives here, and is celebrated for his patronage of learning and learned men. (A knock at the door.) Who waits there ? Enter Drone. Is Mr. Morrell at home ? Drone, (speaking very slow.) Can't say ; s'pose lie is ; indeed, I am sure he is, or was, just now. Digit. Why, I could solve an equation, while you are answer- DIALOGUES. 227 ing a question of five words — I mean, if the unknown terms were all on one side of the equation. Can I see him ? Drone. There is nobody in the house by the name of Qua- tion. Digit, (aside.) Now, here's a fellow that cannot distinguish between an algebraic term and the denomination of his master ; I wish to see Mr. Morrell upon an affair of infinite importance. Drone. Oh, very likely, sir. I will inform him that Mr. Quation wishes to see him, (mimicking) upon an affair of infi- nite importance. Digit. No, no. Digit — Digit. My name is Digit. Drone. Oh, Mr. Digy. Very likely. (Exit Drone) Digit, (alone) That fellow is certainly a negative quantity. He is minus common sense. If this Mr. Morrell is the man I take him to be, he cannot but patronize my talents. Should he not, I don't know how I shall obtain a new coat. I have worn this ever since I began to write my theory of sines and contan- gents ; and my elbows have so often formed right angles with the plane surface of my table, that a new coat or a parallel patch is very necessary. But here comes Mr. Morrell. Enter Sesquipedalia. Sir, (bowing low) I am your most mathematical servant. I am sorry, sir, to give you this trouble ; but an affair of conse- quence — (pulling the rags over his elbows)-— an affair of conse- quence, as your servant informed you — Sesquipedalia. Servus non est mihi Domine ; that is, I have no servant, sir. I presume you have erred in your calculation ; and — Digit. No, sir. The calculations I am about to present you are founded on the most correct theorems of Euclid. You may examine them, if you please. They are contained in this small manuscript. (Producing a folio) « Sesq. Sir, you have bestowed a degree of interruption upon my observations. I was about, or according to the Latins futu- rus sum, to give you a little information concerning the luminary 228 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Who appears to have deceived your vision. My name, sir, is Tullius Maro Titus Crispus Sesquipedalia ; by profession a lin- guist and philosopher. The most abstruse points in physics or metaphysics are to me transparent as ether. I have come to this house for the purpose of obtaining the patronage of aNgentle- man who befriends all the literati. Now, sir, perhaps I have induced conviction, in mente tua, that is, in your mind, that your calculation was erroneous. Digit. Yes, sir, as to your person, I was mistaken ; but my calculations, I maintain, are correct, to the tenth part of a circu- lating decimal. Sesq. But what is the subject of your manuscript ? Have you discussed the infinite divisibility of matter ? Digit. No sir ; I cannot reckon infinity ; and I have nothing to do with subjects that cannot be reckoned. Sesq. Why, I can reckon about it. I reckon it is divisible ad infinitum. But perhaps your work is upon the materiality of light ; and if so, which side of the question do you espouse ? Digit. Oh, sir, I think it quite immaterial. Sesq. What ! light immaterial ! Do you say light is imma- terial ? Digit. No ; I say it is quite immaterial which side of the question I espouse. I have nothing to do with it. And besides, I am a bachelor, and do not mean to espouse anything at present. Sesq. Do you write upon the attraction of cohesion ? You know, matter has the properties of attraction and repulsion. Digit. I care nothing about matter, so I can find enough for mathematical demonstration. Sesq. I cannot conceive what you have written upon, then. Oh, it must be the centripetal and centrifugal motions. Digit (pevishly). No, no ! I wish Mr. Morrell would come. Sir, I have no motions but such as I can make with my pencil upon my slate, thus. [Figuring upon his hand.) Six, minus four, plus two, equal eight, minus six, plus two. There, those are my motions. Sesq. Oh, I perceive you grovel in the depths of arithmetic. DIALOGUES. 229 I suppose you never soared into the regions of philosophy. You never thought of the vacuum which has so long filled the heads of philosophers. Digit. Vacuum ! [Putting his hand to his forehead?) Let me think. Sesq. Ha ! What ! have you got it sub manu, that is, under your hand ? Ha, ha, ha ! Digit. Eh ! under my hand ? What do you mean, sir ? — that my head is a vacuum ? Would you insult me, sir ? — in- sult Archimedes Digit ? Why, sir, I'll cipher you into infinite divisibility. I'll set you on an inverted cone, and give you a centripetal and centrifugal motion out of the window, sir ! I'll scatter your solid contents ! Sesq. Da veniam, that is, pardon me, it was merely a lapsus lingua, that is, — Digit. Well, sir, I am not fond of lapsus Unguals, at all, sir. However, if you did not mean to offend, I accept your apology. I wish Mr. Morrell would come. Sesq. But, sir, is your work upon mathematics ? Digit. Yes sir. In this manuscript I have endeavoured to elucidate the squaring of the circle. Sesq. But, sir, a square circle is a contradiction in terms. You cannot make one. Digit. I perceive you are a novice in this sublime science. The object is to find a square which shall be equal to a given circle ; which I have done by a rule drawn from the radii of the circle and the diagonal of the square. And by my rule the area of the square will equal the area of the circle. Sesq. Your terms are to me incomprehensible. Diagonal is derived from the Greek. Dia and goneo, that is, " through the corner." But I don't see what it has to do with a circle ; for if I understand aright, a circle, like a sphere, has no corners. Digit. You appear to be very ignorant of the science of num- bers. Your life must have been very insipidly spent in poring over philosophy and the dead languages. You never tasted, as I have, the pleasure arising from the investigation of a difficult 230 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. problem, or the discovery of a new rule in quadratic equations. Sesq. Poh ! poh ! (Turns round in disgust and hits Digit with his cane.) Digit. Oh, you villian ! Sesq. I wish, sir — Digit. And so do I wish, sir, that that cane was raised to the fourth power, and laid over your head as many times as there are units in a thousand. Oh ! Oh ! Sesq. Did my cane come in contact with the sphere of at- traction around your shin ? I must confess, sir — Enter Trill. But here is Mr. Morrell, Salve Dominef Sir, your ser- vant. Trill. Which of you, gentlemen, is Mr. Morrell ? Sesq. Oh ! neither, sir. I took you for that gentleman. Trill. No sir ; I am a teacher of music. Flute, harp, viol, violin, violincello, organ, or anything of the kind ; any instru- ment you can mention. I have just been displaying my powers at a concert, and come recommended to the patronage of Mr. Morrell. Sesq. For the same purpose are that gentleman and myself here. Digit (still rubbing his shin). Oh ! Oh ! Trill. Has the gentleman the gout ? I have heard of its being cured by music. Shall I sing you a tune ? Hem ! hem ! Faw — Digit. No, no ; I want none of your tunes. I'd make that philosopher sing, though, and dance, too, if he had n't made a vulgar fraction of my leg. Sesq. In veritate, that is, in truth, it happened forte, that is, by chance. Trill (talking to himself). If B be flat, me is in E. Digit. Ay, sir ; this is only an integral part of your conduct ever since you came into this house. You have continued to multiply your insults in the abstract ratio of a geometrical pro- DIALOGUES. 23 1 gression, and at last have proceeded to violence. The dignity of Archimedes Digit never experienced such a reduction de- scending before. Trill (to himself). Twice fa sol la, and then comes me again. Digit. If Mr. Morrell does no admit me soon, I'll leave the house, while my head is on my shoulders. Trill. Gentlemen, you neither keep time nor chord. But if you can sing, we will carry a trio before we go. Sesq. Can you sing an ode of Horace or Anacreon ? I should like to hear one of them. • Digit. I had rather hear you sing a demonstration of the forty-seventh proposition, first book. Trill. I never heard of those performers, sir ; where did they belong ? Sesq. They did belong to Italy and Greece. Trill. Ah ? Italy ! There are our best masters, such as Morelli, and Furselli. Can you favor me with some of their compositions ? Sesq. Oh, yes ; if you have taste that way, I can furnish you with them, and with Virgil, Sallust, Cicero, Caesar, and Quintitian; and I have an old Greek Lexicon which I can spare. Trill. Ad libitum, my dear sir, they will make a handsome addition to my musical library. Digit. But, sir, what pretensions have you to the patronage of Mr. Morrell ? I don't believe you can square the circle. Trill. Pretensions, sir ! I have gained a victory over the great Tantanarrarra, the new opera singer, who pretended to vie with me. 'Twas in the symphony of Handel's Oratorio of Saul, where you know everything depends upon the tempo giusto, and where the primo should preceed in smorgando, and the secondo agitati. But he was on the third ledger line, I was an octave below, when, with a sudden appogiatura, I rose to D in alt, and conquered him. 232 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Enter Drone. Drone. My master says how he will wait on you, gentlemen Digit. What is your name, sir ? Drone. Drone, at your service. Digit. No, no ; you need not drone at my service. A very applicable name, however. Sesq. Drone ? That is derived from the Greek Draon, that is, flying or moving swiftly. Trill. He seems to move in andante measure, that is, to the tune of Old Hundred. Drone. Very likely, gentlemen. Digit. Well, as I came first, I will enter first. Sesq. Right. You shall be the antecedent, I the subsequent, and Mr. Trill the consequent. Trill. Right. I was always a man of consequence. Fa, sol, la, Fa, sol, &c. [Exeunt] ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THIRD LESSON. SPIRIT RAPPINGS. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TOM AND HARRY Harry. Well, Tom, what's the news ? Tom. I should hardly think, Harry, you would ask that ques- tion, when one all-absorbing subject is now agitating the com- munity. Har. Well, that's what I call snubbing a fellow pretty short off, Tom. But not having been here very long, I really am ignorant of precisely what you mean by " the all-absorbing sub- ject." The Presidential Election did stir up the Whigs and Democrats not long ago ; but in the whirl of matters since, that's got to be stale now, quite. Tom. I see you are all engrossed with this world's affairs, my friend. But have you heard nothing of late about the in DIALOGUES. 233 sight we are getting into the world of spirits, and our ability to converse with them ? Har. 0, the rappings, the rappings ! Yes, I have heard and read a good deal about them ; but I haven't had my senses so far rapped or knocked out of me yet, as to believe all that is anything more than one of the thousand things that have been put afloat to scare and delude people ever since the days of Salem witchcraft. Tom. Pray don't mention spiritual communications on the same day with Salem witchcraft, or any other delusion. You might as well put the Bible and the story of Bluebeard to- gether. Har. Now, Tom, are you serious ? Tom. Never more so in my life, I assure you. Har. Well, I'm sorry you have gone off on that tangent. I shall soon expect to hear that you have been sent to a mad- house. Tom. That's the way all unbelievers talk. Har. Friend Tom, have your spirits ever taught you to spell their performances with six letters % Tom. No, Harry. They have more important things to do. Har. Well, then I will teach you — h-u-m-b-u-g, and of all bugs, deliver me from hum-bugs. Tom. Spirits of the departed around us ! pity the blindness of my poor, deluded friend. Harry, if you had only seen what I have seen, you would no more doubt the reality of my doc- trines than you would doubt your own existence. When you have seen, you will believe. Har. Perhaps I shall ; but not before. Friend Tom, do you believe the Bible ? Tom. Certainly, Harry ; why do you ask that question ? Har. Because I can't help thinking why that good old book isn't enough for us without any other revelation. That does not lead us to expect any more light concerning the spirit-world. But, if I am not mistaken, it does tell us about " lying spirits" that are to come on earth about these days, and bids us beware 234 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. of them too ; and so I mean to do — at least, of such ridiculous operators as poured out their nonsense through our tables. Tom. Harry, this is too serious business to laugh about. Who is to direct how our knowledge of the next world shall be com- municated ? For my part, I am glad to get it in any way, and, begging your pardon, should never think of consulting you for direction on that subject. Har. I should have none to give you if you did. But I think we can both do better on that point than to pretend to summon up those that have done with earth, and bring them to thump out the alphabet for our edification, through our fur- niture. Tom. They rap and rock out information, because, as they are spirits, and we are yet in the flesh, we cannot comprehend spiritual language. Har. Well, Tom, some of them have not gained much know- ledge since they left the body ; for they spell miserably now, while before they left this world, they were very accurate in that particular. Tom. Oh, fol de rol, Harry ! that's a small matter ; the sense is what we want, no matter how it is clothed. Har. That does not satisfy me, Tom. If you really sum- moned the spirit of old Dr. Franklin to talk with you, I believe he would spell his words as accurately as he used to do while in the body. Tom. But you won't believe that we can bring him to com- municate with us. Har. Believe ? — no. If you could, he was too much of a Yankee to content himself with your tedious, numbscull method of talking. He would call for his old Ramage press and types again. Why don't some enterprising spirit of a dead Yankee invent a better way ? Tom. Come, come, Harry ; you shock me by talking so. You know the spirits do sometimes write down their ideas, to show us that they are not confined to any one method. Har. Ah ! and have you ever received any of their written DIALOGUES. 235 messages, yourself, Tom ? I've heard of them, but never had the good fortune to see any. Tom. Yes, Harry, it was my blessed privilege, last evening, to be one of a circle of friends who received a communication direct from a spirit hand ! Har. O Tom ! show it me ! I should stand a better chance of being convinced, if I could only get hold of something tangible. Tom. Well, my friend, suspend your levity, and listen to words such as spirits' voices utter, and then tell me candidly if they are not super-mortal. \Takes paper from his pocket and reads'] — " In the 12th hour, the ineffable glory of the Uncreated, Holy -Procedure, shall crown the Tribune Creator with the per- fect disclosive illumination ! Then shall the creation, in efful- gence above the divine seramphimse, arise into the dome of the disclosure, in one grand, comprehensive, revolving galaxy of su- preme created beatitudes !" There, Harry, now tell me if that glorious language is not utterly above all the folderol of earthly pulpits, senates and universities ! Har. Whew ! tremendous ! I am knocked into the middle of next week ! Fm confounded ! I know not what to say ! Stop though — " 'twill never do to give it up so, Mr. Brown." Let me try now, Tom, and do you listen. [ Throws himself into an attitude and recites] — " Then shall blockheads, in the jack- asical dome of the disclosive procedure above the all-fired, great leather fungus of Peter Nip-niny-go, the gooseberry grinder, rise into the dome disclosive, until co-equal, co-extensive, and conglomerated lumuxes, in one grand, comprehensive mux, shall assimilate into nothing, and revolve like a bobtailed pussy-cat, after the space where the tail was !" There, Tom, do you give it up now, or do you want more ? I have " a few more of the same sort." Tom. Harry, you shock me inexpressibly. How dare you make such a mock of sacred things? Let me tell you as a friend, that I am seriously afraid you will meet the fate of other blasphemers of old, who suffered the vengeance of heaven for their impiety. 236 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. Har. Never you fear, Tom ; — according to your own doctrine I am safe ; for I have never yet heard of any rascal so infamous, that you do not put him into good company in the spirit world, and send him on his way rejoicing toward the " Seventh Sphere," where all is perfect happiness. Tom. I wish you good-bye, Harry. It's of no use to talk with you — blind you are, and blind you will remain, in spite of me, to your own best interests. [ Turns to go out.] Har. Good-bye to you, friend Ghost-talker. When I con- clude to burn up my Bible, I will come and hear you preach. Please tell your spirits not to rock on my corns, nor knock out my teeth before I get. ready to shed them. [Tom goes out in disgust.] I wish though they would play the violin occasionally, and set the girls a chassezing ! [Exit Harry.] ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOURTH LESSON. THE LITTLE REBELS. Gen. Howe. His Aid. Sentinel. George. James. Boys. Scene I — Boston Common — A crowd of boys assembled near the Skating Pond. George. Here it is again, boys. The ice is all broken in by the red-coats. We shall have no fun to-day. James. I wish we were not boys? If I were big enough to carry a sword or a musket, I would drive 'em out of the land faster that neighbor Tuft's dog ever went out of father's store. DIALOGUES. 237 George. And what if we are boys ? I, for one, have no mind to bear this treatment any longer. All. Right, George, right! James. But what can we do, boys % George. I'll tell you. Form a line of march, and with drum, and fife, and colors, wait upon General Howe, at his tent, and tell him we will not be insulted by British soldiers, nor any other soldiers. All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! [Exeunt.~\ (A short pause, and then again ringing without.) Hurra! hurra! hurra! Scene II. — General Howe's Head Quarters. — A sentinel pacing before the door with musket over his shoulder. — Noise of fife and drum at a distance. Sentinel. What in the name of wonder can that be ? Are they up in arms again in this rascally town ? A troop of a hundred boys, as I live. An Indian painted on their flag, and no sign of the English cross. Oh ! the land is full of rebellion. It is .full of it, and running over. [The boys halt in front of the tent, and George approaches the Sentinel with the standard in his hand.] George. Is General Howe at home ? Sentinel. Who are you? George. We are Boston boys, sir. Sentinel. And what do you want here ? George. We come for our rights ; and we wish to speak to the British General. Sentinel. The British General has better business than list- ening to a parcel of ragamuffin little rebels ; I shall do none of your messages. George. As you please, sir; but here we wait till we see General Howe. We will see him ; and he shall do us justice. All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! Sentinel. That, you little rascals, would be to hang you and vour cowardly countrymen. I suppose you are making all this 238 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. fuss about the little dirty pond on the common, that don't at the best hold water enough to fill a sizable Dutch milk pan. All. Cowards, do you call us ! Say it again if you dare. [General Howe and one of his Aids step out.'] General. What is the matter here ? Why is this disturbance ? George. General Howe, we come to complain of the insults and the outrages of your soldiers. They break our kite strings, ruin our skating pond, and steal our drums from us. We have spoken more than once, to no purpose ; and now we have come to say that we can not, and we will not, endure it any longer. General. [Aside to his Aid] Good Heavens ! liberty is in the very air, and the boys breathe it. [To the boys.] Go, my brave lads ; you have the word of General Howe that your sports shall never be disturbed again, without punishment to the of- fender. Does that satisfy you ? George. Yes, General Howe ; and in the name of my country I present you thanks. General. No thanks ; you are brave boys, you are English boys ; I see plainly, you are English boys. All. No, sir, Yankees — Yankees — Yankee boys, sir. Hurra ! hurra ! [ The drum strikes up, and the little band march off with flying colors.] ONE HUNDRED AND EORTY-FIFTH LESSON. THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. Charles. Frank, tell me a good story, as you have often done before. Frank. Well, what shall it be ? C. A bloody murder. F. A bloody murder ! Well, then, once upon a time, some men, dressed all alike C. With black crapes over their faces. DIALOGUES. 239 F. No ; they had steel caps on — having crossed a dark plain, wound cautiously around the skirts of a deep wood C. They were ill-looking fellows, I dare say. F. I cannot say so ; on the contrary, they were tall men — leaving on their right hand, an old ruined meeting-house on the hill. C. At midnight, just as the clock struck twelve, was it not ? F. No, really ; it was on a fine balmy summer's morning — and moved forwards, one behind another C. As still as death, creeping alone under the fences. F. On the contrary, they walked remarkably upright; and so far from endeavoring to be hushed and still, they made a loud noise as they came along, with several sorts of instru- ments. C. But Frank, they would be found out immediately. F. They did not seem to wish to conceal themselves ; on the contrary, they gloried in what they were about. They moved forwards, I say, to where stood a neat, pretty town, which they set on fire C. Set a town on fire ? Wicked wretches ! F. And while it was burning, they murdered — twenty thou- sand men. C. O fie ! You don't intend I shall believe all this. I thought all along you were making up a tale, as you often do ; but you shall not catch me this time. What ! they lay still, I suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats ? F. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could. C How should these men kill twenty thousand people, pray ? F. Why not ? the murderers were thirty thousand. C. O, now I have found you out ! You mean a battle. F. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murders half so bloody. CONTENTS Prkpacf 3 Organs of Speech 5 Formation of the Consonants 5 Grammatical Pauses 12 Rhetorical Pauses 12 Inflections 13 Emphasis 20 The Keys or pitches of the Voice 20 Vocal Gymastics 21 The Bainbow 27 Heroism of Deborah 29 Heroism of Jephtha's Daughter. ... 30 Gesture 32 The Miser and Plutus 39 Speech of James Otis 45 The American Indians 47 Lafayette 49 English Taxes 51 South Carolina 52 Massachusetts 53 Speech of Chatham 56 Speech of Patrick Henry 59 Supposed Speech of John Adams. . . 62 Rolla's Address to the Peruvians. . . 68 Washington 69 Scotland 71 The Queen of France 73 National Glory a 74 The Necessity of Union 75 The Importance of Preserving our form of Government 77 The Monument on Bunker Hill 78 The Battle of Lexington 80 The American Revolution 82 Appeal in Behalf of Greece 83 Ancient Oratory 86 Plunket's Speech against the Union of Ireland and England 87 Obstacles to the Extinction of War. . 88 The Battle of Marathon 90 Chatham's Reply to Walpole 91 Catiline's Speech 98 The Right to Tax America 94 Brutus on the Death of Caesar 95 Rienzi's Address to the Romans 96 Henry V. to his Soldiers 97 Grattan's Reply to Corry 98 The Influence of the United States upon other Nations 100 A Revolutionary Song 101 Liberty 101 On to the Strife 102 The Battle Field 103 The Pilgrims 104 The Severance of South Carolina from the Union 105 The Charge 107 The Importance of a Firm National > Character 108 Old Ironsides 109 Leonidis 110 To Arms Ill Make Way for Liberty 112 The Efficiency of Woman 114 Ye Sons of Sires 116 Fourth of July ., 116 The Survivors of the Revolution., ,.117 Life without Freedom 118 SEP 2 9 1950 Ode for Independence 119 Midnight Musings 120 The Dying Archer '.123 The American Flag r_>4 The Angel of the Leaves 126 Life : An Allegory ' 119 The Cloud 131 The Broken Heart 133 The Pilgrim Fathers 136 A Sketch 147 The Disembodied Spirit 138 Colonel Haynes 140 Spirit of Freedom 142 Lakes and the Ocean 144 Marco Bozzaris 145 Sublimity of Mountain Scenery. . ..146 My Mother's Grave 147 I would not Live Alway 148 Knowledge 150 Moonlight and a Battle Field 150 Absalom 152 The New Roof 156 Washington and Franklin 158 Love and Murder 160 A Crusader's Song 161 American Freedom 162 Lvceum Speech of Mr Orator, Climax. 1S4 William Tell in the Field of Grutli. .165 Our Country 166 Rhine Song of the Roman Soldiers.. 267 The Mechanics' Soug 168 Peter Parley's 4th of July Oration.. 170 America 172 Speech Obituary 171 Jack Halyard's Speech 172 The Spanish Patriots' Song 173 Man's Enterprize 174 Union — Washington 176 Pyramus and Thisbe 177 Adams and Jefferson 181 Lament for Greec ; 183 Address to the Patriots of the Rexo- lution 184 Love of Country 185 Washington's Birth-day 186 Bingen on the Rhine 188 Self-made Men 190 Press On 191 The Wind in a Frolic 192 The Mysterious Music of Ocean 193 The Murderer 195 The Spanish Champion 197 Ship of State 199 The World for Sale 200 Occasional Prologue 202 Occasional Epilogue 204 Excelsior 105 Dialogues— Old Fickle and his Son ..204 " Why an Apple Falls 210 " Chas. II. and William Penn 214 " Captain Hardy and Nathan 216 " Physiognomy 219 (! The Battle of Lexington. ..221 " Pedants seeking Patronage 226 " Spirit Rappings 232 " The Little Rebels 236 " Things by their right names 238 * s# ^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proc Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 , PreservationTechnologi A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVA 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724)779-2111 *n ^ ^ ' % %<♦♦ jV 5 ^ ^> ^°- o %0^ i 1 - w •Q. ''.,i * \\V ^0* K-- / % r0 r s ***/,. <** l ' ^M?\i ^&i