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Entertainer 
 
 AND 
 
 Entertained 
 
 Compilation of 
 ELEANOR H. CALDWELL 
 
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 BOSTON 
 
 MAYHEW PUBLISHING CO. 
 
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 Copyright 1911, 
 
 BY 
 
 Eleanor H. Caldwell. 
 
 CCI.A280r.72 
 
Come read to me some poem, 
 Some simple and heart felt lay, 
 That shall soothe this restless feeling, 
 And banish the thoughts of day. 
 
 Then read from the treasured volume 
 The poem of thy choice, 
 And lend to the rhyme of the poet 
 The beauty of thy voice. 
 
 And the night shall be filled with music; 
 And the cares that infest the day, 
 Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, 
 And as silently steal away. 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These Ninety and Nine selections have been chosen from 
 various authors for the ethical lessons the greater number 
 contain. The High School or college student should be, 
 not only a reader, but an entertainer. From his knowledge 
 of oratorical studies he should be able to interpret the au- 
 thor's meaning. If such is his ability he is in every sense 
 of the word an entertainer and his hearers, whether in the 
 school-room, the world, or the home, bear to him the relation 
 of the entertained. Therefore, I dedicate this Reader to 
 the two classes for whom it is named. For counsel and 
 kindness shown, I gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness 
 to the authors whose names are found herein, and to the 
 following publishers: — 
 
 Forbes & Co., Chicago Illinois., 
 
 Charles Scribner Sons. New York City., 
 
 The Century Publishing Co., 
 
 Dodd, Mead & Co., 
 
 P. J. Kennedy & Co., 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin Co., 
 
 Harper & Brothers. 
 
 F. A. Stokes. 
 
 Longmans, Green & Co. 
 
 E. P. Dutton & Co., New York City. 
 
 The Frank A. Munsey Co. 
 
 Charles H. Kerr & Co. 
 
 Richard G. Badger (The Gorham Press) 
 
 Cosmopolitan Magazine. 
 
 The Roycrofters. 
 
 The Ladies Home Journal. 
 
 The Outlook. 
 
 The National Magazine. 
 
 The Smart Set. 
 
 Eleanor H. Caldwell. 
 Boston, June 14, 1910. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Opportunity, The Ancient Legend and the Modern 
 
 Application 1 
 
 The Old School Clock John Boyle O'Reilly 2 
 
 Life's Paradox Shaler G. Hillyer 4 
 
 Demeanor in Church . . George Herbert 5 
 
 The Heather of Scotland Clifton Johnson 7 
 Hiawatha's Welcome to The Pale-Face . . . 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 9 
 
 There is a Garden in my Heart 
 
 Meribah Abbott 10 
 
 Father's Hand Maurice Smiley. 10 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem Leigh Hunt 11 
 
 Candor and Courtesy . . . Agnes Repplier 12 
 
 Just So! Arthur Chamberlain 14 
 
 The Holly Tree .... Robert Southey 15 
 
 Stratford-on-Avon . . Washington Irving 16 
 
 From Cymbeline Shakespeare 18 
 
 The Worship of Nature . . J. G. Whittier 19 
 
 The Oak Tennyson 21 
 
 Loyalty Elbert Hubbard 21 
 
 Chipeta Eugene Field 22 
 
 Con Cregan's Legacy . . . . Charles Lover 23 
 
 De Lawd'll See Yo Froo . Maurice Smiley 27 
 
 A River Pastoral . . . Clinton Scollard 28 
 
 Overruled J. G. Whittier 92 
 
 Abdication .... Cora Gaines Carrel 29 
 
 Heroism in Housekeeping Jane Welsh Carlyle 32 
 
 To Myself Paul Fleming 34 
 
 Opportunity John J. Ingalls 35 
 
 Jennie Fred Emerson Brooks 36 
 
 Saint Francis and the Birds 37 
 
 Old Fashioned Philosophy . J. A. Edgerton 38 
 
 The Auld Plaid Shawl Francis A. Fahy 38 
 
 Tact and Talent From the London Atlas. 40 
 
 The Wind and the Moon George MacDonald 41 
 
The Witch in The Glass Sarah M. B. Piatt 42 
 The Story of Damon and Pythias 
 
 Charlotte M. Yonge 43 
 The Road to You, (From the Omar Sonnets and the 
 
 Lefra Lyrics) Translated by Oliver Opp Dyke. 45 
 
 Opportunity Walter Malone 46 
 
 A Builder's Lesson John Boyle O'Reilly. 47 
 Anner Lizer's Stumbling Block Part I. 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar. 47 
 Anner Lizer's Stumbling Block Part II. 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar. 52 
 
 How To Ask and Have Samuel Lover. 57 
 
 Herself and Myself . . . . P. J. McCall. 58 
 
 Wait Till To-Morrow . . . Philip B. Strong 59 
 
 My Trust . . J. G. Whittier 59 
 
 Love's Perplexity . . . . T. H. Farnham 61 
 
 The Story of a Garden Mabel Osgood Wright 62 
 
 War Alfred J. Waterhouse 64 
 
 The Kneeling Camel .... Anna Temple 65 
 
 The Aster and the Goldenrod Eugene Shurtleff 66 
 
 Seeing Things Outdoors S. C. Schmucker 66 
 
 Listen Frederick Abbott 68 
 
 Giving and Taking (Trans, from Hindoo) . . 
 
 /. G. Whittier 69 
 
 The Lion Makers .... Pilpays 7 Fables 70 
 
 A Conqueror . . . . Pauline R. Stayner 71 
 
 Conjuhations . . . . - . Victor A. Hermann 72 
 
 Hand Shaking Sydney Smith 74 
 
 Our Country Julia Ward Howe 74 
 
 Old Glory .... Fred Emerson Brooks 75 
 
 The Three Vases .... 77 
 
 The Road to a Woman's Heart 
 
 Thomas Chandler Haliburton 77 
 
 The Art of the Theatre . . Julia Marlowe 80 
 
 The Gospel of Labour . . Henry Van Dyke 88 
 A Collect for Thanksgiving Day .... 
 
 Edwin Markham 89 
 
 Grandfather's Wish /. C.Briggs 90 
 
 A Bit of Good Luck . . Henry Van Dyke 91 
 
 Virtues of The Lower Animals Montaignes Essays 9 1 
 
 To Blanco Timothy Titcomb 93 
 
Vanities, A New Arrival 93 
 
 Out of The Night That Covers Me . . . 
 
 William Ernest Henley 94 
 
 Antoine Louis Barye . . . Charles DeKay 95 
 
 The Hare and Many Friends . . John Gay 97 
 
 Depending Upon Others . Mrs. .S C. Hall 98 
 
 Little Town op Bethlehem Phillips Brooks 101 
 
 Arbor Day Fred Emerson Brooks 102 
 
 A Burns Pilgrimage (from the land of heather.) 
 
 Clifton Johnson 103 
 
 Mans Hidden Side Nathan Haskell Dole- 105 
 The Inward Judge (From Institutes of Man) 
 
 /. G. Whittier 106 
 
 A Pearl of Great Price Henry Van Dyke 106 
 
 At Midnight Nathan Haskell Dole 109 
 
 1 Know That My Redeemer Lives .... 
 
 Fred Emerson Brooks 109 
 
 Hame's Hame Willis Boyd Allen 111 
 
 Walking Henry D. Thoreau 111 
 
 Fishing Alfred L. Donaldson 114 
 
 There is no God . . Arthnr Hugh Clough 115 
 
 Anonymous Street . . . . Clinton S collar d 116 
 How We Should Struggle Against Appearances 
 
 Epictetus 117 
 
 Henry's Wooing of Katharine Shakespeare 119 
 
 Curiosity .... Paul Lawrence Dunbar 125 
 He Who Died at Azan (From the Arabic) . 
 
 Sir Edwin Arnold's Translation 126 
 
 His First Love . . . Margaret Sangster 129 
 
 A Home Song Henry Van Dyke 130 
 
 Eulogy on the Dog . . . George G. Vest 130 
 
 Rain . . . . ^ . . Mrs. A. K. Carrel 131 
 
 Lying Abed Gelett Burgess 132 
 
 Now 135 
 
 Patient Mercy Jones . . .James F. Fields 137 
 
 Horace on Charitable Judgments .... 140 
 
 Tammy Baroness Nairne 141 
 
 IJp-HiLL Christina Georgina Rosetti 142 
 
 Sonnet Trans. Omar Sonnets and Lefra Lyrics. 143 
 
OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 THE ANCIENT LEGEND AND THE MODERN APPLICATION. 
 
 One of the finest examples of Greek art was the statue 
 "Take Time by the Forelock." It was the work of Lysip- 
 pus of Sicyon, a contemporary of Alexander the Great. 
 The statue by that noted sculptor has not come down to us, 
 but there are several descriptions of it known to exist, the 
 most trustworthy, perhaps being that by Callistratus, an 
 Athenian orator. He describles it as follows: 
 
 "Opportunity was a boy in the flower of youth, hand- 
 some in mien, his hair fluttering at the caprice of the wind, 
 leaving his locks disheveled. Like Dionysius, his forehead 
 shone with grace and his cheeks glowed with splendor. 
 With winged feet, to indicate swiftness, he stood upon a 
 sphere, resting upon the tips of his toes, as if ready for flight. 
 
 His hair fell in thick curls from his brow easy to take hold 
 upon; but upon the back of his head, there were only the 
 beginnings of hairy growths, and when he had once passed 
 it was not possible to seize him." 
 
 One of the Greek poets who saw the statue said that the 
 youth held a razor in his hand. The reason for this is given 
 in this ancient legend: — 
 "Who art thou?" "Time, the all-subduer." 
 "Why standest thou on tiptoe ?" "I speed ever." 
 "Why hast thou double wings on each foot?" "I fly with the 
 
 wind." 
 "In thy hand, why hast thou that razor? 
 " 'Tis a sign to men, that keener than any edge am I." 
 "But why is thy hair over thine eye?" "To be grasped by 
 him who meets me." 
 "The back of thy head, why is it bald?" 
 *'When once I have rushed by with winged feet, one can 
 never grasp me from behind." 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "Why made thee the artist thus" ? "For thy sake, O stranger, 
 he placed this warning lesson at the doorway." 
 
 It is those who have seized Opportunity by the forelock who 
 have won the rewards of life. 
 
 Many employers claim that young men come to them for 
 work who are wholly unprepared to grasp the opportuni- 
 ties which arise in connection with their business, 
 thereby failing to win promotion when promotion is 
 awaiting them. 
 
 Lincoln grasped his opportunity in the log cabin in the 
 wilderness. 
 Edison is one of the best examples of men who grasped 
 
 opportunity. In some respects he lured opportunity until 
 it came to him. 
 
 Charles M. Schwab, made up his mind to do MORE 
 than his employer expected him to do. 
 Selected from a periodical, unable to locate the source. 
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL CLOCK. 
 John Boyle O'Reilly. 
 
 Old memories rush o'er my mind just now 
 
 Of faces and friends of the past; 
 Of that happy time when life's dreams were all bright, 
 
 E'er the clear sky of youth was o'ercast. 
 Very dear are those memories, they've clung round 
 
 my heart, 
 
 And bravely withstood Time's rude shock; 
 But not one is more hallowed or dear to me now 
 
 Than the face of the old school clock. 
 
 'Twas a quaint old clock with a quaint old face, 
 
 And great iron weights and chain; 
 It stopped when it liked, and before it struck 
 
 It creaked as if 'twere in pain. 
 It had seen many years, and it seemed to say, 
 
 "I'm one of the real old stock." 
 To the youthful fry, who with reverence looked 
 
 On the face of the old school clock. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 How many a time have I labored to sketch 
 
 That yellow and time-honored face, 
 With its basket of flowers, its figures and hands, 
 
 And the weights and the chains in their place! 
 How oft have I gazed with admiring eye, 
 
 As I sat on the wooden block 
 And pondered and guessed at the wonderful things 
 
 That were inside that old school clock! 
 
 What a terrible frown did the old clock wear 
 
 To the truant, who timidly cast 
 An anxious eye on those merciless hands 
 
 That for him had been moving too fast! 
 But its frown soon changed; for it loved to smile 
 
 On the thoughtless, noisy flock, 
 And it creaked and whirred and struck with glee, 
 
 Did that genial, good-humored old clock. 
 
 Well, years had passed, and my mind was filled 
 
 With the world, its cares and ways, 
 When again I stood in that little school 
 
 Where I passed my boyhood's days. 
 My old friend was gonel and there hung a thing 
 
 That my sorrow seemed to mock, 
 As I gazed with a tear and a softened heart 
 
 At a new-fashioned Yankee clock. 
 
 'Twas a gaudy thing with bright-painted sides, 
 
 And it looked with insolent stare 
 On the desks and the seats and on everything old 
 
 And I thought of the friendly air 
 Of the face that I missed, with its weights and chains, 
 
 All gone to the auctioneer's block: 
 'Tis a thing of the past, never more shall I see 
 
 But in memory that old school clock. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 'Tis the way of the world: old friends pass away, 
 
 And fresh faces arise in their stead; 
 But still 'mid the din and the bustle of life 
 
 We cherish fond thoughts of the dead. 
 Yes, dearly those memories cling round my heart, 
 
 And bravely withstand Time's rude shock 
 But not one is more dear or more hallowe'd to me 
 
 Than the face of that old school clock. 
 
 LIFE'S PARADOX. 
 Shaler G. Hillyer. 
 
 They told me Wealth was all in all, and then, 
 With greed that comes alone to famished men, 
 I strove for wealth ; by day and night I toiled, 
 
 Nor recked how others fared, what hopes were spoiled. 
 
 And when 'twas gained I stopped to count my store, 
 To count, exult, and, eager, wish it more,; 
 But as each piece fell on the vault's hard stone, 
 Mixed with its ring I heard a human groan. 
 
 I started up from the accusing pile, 
 
 Now worse than vain, that did so late beguile! 
 
 They told me Pleasure was the chiefest good, 
 And so I followed whereso'er she would; 
 Where light feet led, where mocking lips allured, 
 And black eyes told my hopes were half assured. 
 When all was gained, then blight fell on my isle — 
 I had been dreaming on a wanton's smile. 
 
 They told me only Knowledge was divine, 
 And so I strove straightway to make it mine. 
 I read all books, held converse with the wise, 
 Traveled all lands, and searched the distant skies 
 Then, standing in the edge of Learning's sea, 
 I heard the breakers calling thus to me: 
 "In vain, O man, my depths thou wouldst explore; 
 Thy soundings all lie close within the shore," 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Wealth, Pleasure, Knowledge, all in turn were tried, 
 Yet in the dust it seemed I must abide. 
 
 A spirit came and whispered in my ear, 
 
 And raised me up; then led me to a height 
 From which we had a vision far and clear 
 
 Of all the world, its peace and joy and light. 
 The spirit said: "If thou wilt follow me, 
 
 Wilt seek not self, but look beyond, above, 
 All that thou seest will I give to thee." 
 
 I raised my eyes — the spirit's name was Love. 
 
 DEMEANOR IN CHURCH. 
 
 Though private prayer be a brave design, 
 Yet public hath more promises, more love 
 And love is a weight to hearts ; to eyes, a sign. 
 We all are but cold suitors, let us move 
 Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven; 
 Pray with the most, for, where most pray, is heaven. 
 
 When once thy feet enter the church, be bare, 
 God is more there than thou: for thou art there 
 Only by his permission. Then beware; 
 And make thyself all reverence and fear. 
 Kneeling ne'er spoiled silk stockings. 
 
 Quit thy state: 
 All equal are within the church's gate. 
 
 Resort to sermons; but to prayers most: 
 
 Praying is the end of preaching. Oh, be drest! 
 
 Stay not for the other pin. Why, thou hast lost 
 
 A joy, for it, worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
 
 Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee; 
 
 Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose, about thee. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 In time of service seal up both thine eyes, 
 And send them to thy heart; that, spying sin, 
 They may weep out the stains by them did rise, 
 Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 
 Who marks in church time others' symmetry, 
 Makes all their beauty his deformity. 
 
 Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part, 
 Bring not thy plow, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. 
 Christ purged his Temple; so must thou thy heart. 
 All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together 
 To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well; 
 For churches either are heaven or hell. 
 
 Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge. 
 
 If thou mislike him, thou conceives t him not, 
 
 God calleth preaching, folly. Do not grudge 
 
 To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 
 
 The worst speak something good. If all want sense, 
 
 God takes a text and preacheth patience. 
 
 He that gets patience, and the blessings which 
 Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
 He that, by being at church, escapes the ditch, 
 Which he might fall in by companions, gains. 
 He that loves God's abode, and to combine 
 With saints on earth, shall with them one day shine. 
 
 Jest not at preachers' language or expression. 
 How know'st thou but thy sins made him miscarry? 
 Then turn thy faults and his into confession. 
 God sent him whatsoe'er he be. Oh, tarry 
 And love him for his Master! His condition, 
 Though it be ill, makes him no ill physician. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THE HEATHER OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 Clifton Johnson. 
 
 Heather is not peculiarly Scotch. It grows on the moors 
 and waste lands of all parts of Britain and is found in most 
 sections of the continent of Europe. But in Scotland it is 
 omnipresent to an unusual degree; and besides, it has be- 
 come so closely associated in literature both of fact and 
 fiction with this particular country as to have acquired 
 many synonymous attributes. The flowers are of a lilac 
 rose color but vary much in depth of tint, thus adding ma- 
 terially to the beauty of the wilds which they delight to in- 
 habit. The heather is in its glory in late August and early 
 September, and one who sees it then would be apt to forget 
 that it had any other mission than to delight the eye, yet it is 
 not without its utilitarian aspect as well. The domestic 
 bees find their richest feast of the year in its blossoms; the 
 plants contribute much to the formation of peat; the shrubby 
 growth makes admirable cover for the game birds, and is 
 often used for thatching cottages, or is tied to handles for 
 brooms and in bunches for scrubbing brushes; and still 
 other uses might be mentioned. 
 
 Naturally one would expect the heather to be the Scotch 
 national flower, and perhaps it might have been had not a 
 chance incident conferred the distinction on the thistle. 
 History says this choice was due to James III. who took the 
 thistle to illustrate his royal motto, "In Defence," but ac- 
 cording to tradition the preference given the thistle dates 
 back to the time when the Norsemen ravaged all the shores 
 of northern Europe. 
 
 On one occasion in the dead of night, an invading Norse 
 force approached unperceived the camp of the Scots who 
 had gathered to oppose them. 
 
 But while the Norsemen paused to ascertain the unde- 
 fended points of the camp they proposed to assault, one of 
 their spies stepped on a thistle and the sudden pain brought 
 forth a violent oath. This aroused the Scots, and they 
 hastened to attack the invaders, gained a complete victory 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 and afterwards adopted the plant which had been the 
 means of their delivery as their emblem. 
 
 The thistles thorny vigor perhaps very well expressed 
 the Scotch character in those long-gone fighting days, but 
 now the hardiness and warm bloom of the heather, to my 
 mind, indicate more exactly the racial individuality. 
 
 "From The Land O' Heather" 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 HIAWATHA'S WELCOME TO THE PALE FACE. 
 
 H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 Beautiful is the sun, O strangers, 
 When you come so far to see us! 
 All our town in peace awaits you, 
 All our doors stand open for you, 
 You shall enter all our wigwams 
 For the heart's right hand we give you. 
 
 Never bloomed the earth so gayly, 
 Never shone the sun so brightly, 
 As to-day they shine and blossom, 
 When you come so far to see us! 
 Never was our lake so tranquil, 
 Nor so free from rocks and sand-bars; 
 For your birch canoe in passing, 
 Has removed both rock and sand-bar! 
 
 Ne'er before had our tobacco 
 Such a sweet and pleasant flavor, 
 Ne'er the broad leaves of our corn-fields 
 Were so beautiful to look on, 
 As they seem to us this morning, 
 When you come so far to see us! 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THERE IS A GARDEN IN MY HEART* 
 Meribah Abbott. 
 
 My neighbor hath a garden, 
 
 A garden good to see; 
 In lovely row the flowers grow 
 
 To lure the vagrant bee; 
 And all the air is sweet with scent 
 From leaf and bud and blossom blent. 
 
 High on my window ledge is set 
 A box of modest mignonette ; 
 Only this . . . but I envy not 
 My neighbor, rich in his rainbow plot. 
 
 There is a garden in my heart 
 
 Bright as a crowned King's 
 And love lives there beyond compare, 
 
 And faith undying springs 
 And all its walks are warm with sun 
 From blessings known and friendships won. 
 
 My neighbor glancing o'er his rosy hedge 
 Smiles at the box upon my window ledge ; 
 Nor dreams that tilled in poverty and pain 
 Mine is the fairer garden of the twain . 
 
 FATHER'S HAND. 
 
 Maurice Smiley. 
 
 A scene in the midst of the city 
 
 Brought peace to my heart one day; 
 A man, a rough man of the people, 
 
 Was walking a city way; 
 And fast to his hand held a toddler, 
 
 With hair that was angel gold — 
 And oh! the gentle confiding 
 
 That clung in that dimpled hold! 
 
 10 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 And walking they came to a danger, 
 
 A steep that was tiny and sheer, 
 The wee clinging fingers tightened 
 
 And the blue eyes widened with fear; 
 But roughly the man reassured her 
 
 In words she could understand; 
 "There ain't nuthin' goin' to hurt you! 
 
 Ain't papa got hold o' your hand?" 
 
 But all thro' the petulant fondness. 
 
 Impatient, rebuking and stern, 
 The fatherhood rang like an anthem, 
 
 And this is the lesson I learn — 
 For I am a child like the toddler 
 
 And I'm hearing the Father say: 
 "Fear not any step of the journey 
 
 Or pitfall along the way!" 
 
 And e'en as the little, one feared not, 
 
 But held all the closer and fast, 
 Serene with a sureness that trusted, 
 
 So clingeth my faith to the last. 
 His shield and His love are around me, 
 
 All dangers to safely withstand. 
 What harm shall ever befall me ? — 
 
 The Father holdeth my hand! 
 
 ABOU BEN ADHEM. 
 By Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) 
 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
 And saw within the moonlight in his room, 
 Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
 An angel writing in a book of gold: 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
 And to the presence in the room he said: 
 
 11 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "What writest thou? "The vision raised its head, 
 
 And with a look made of all sweet accord, 
 
 Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.'' 
 
 "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," 
 
 Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
 
 But cheerly still, and said, "I pray thee, then, 
 
 Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 
 
 The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 
 It came again, with a great wakening light, 
 And showed the names whom love of God had blessed — 
 And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest! 
 * * * * 
 
 Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, Middlesex, England, 
 October 19, 1784; and died at Putney, near London, August 
 28, 1859. 
 
 The son of a clergyman, he was educated at Christ's 
 Hospital, under the same master as Coleridge and Lamb. 
 
 He was an ardent political reformer, and it was while in 
 prison for libel against the Prince Regent that he first met 
 Lord Byron, whose biography he afterwards wrote. 
 
 Besides this, a long poem, "Rimini," and an "Autobi- 
 ography," his works are principally essays and shorter 
 poems, of which "Abou Ben Adhem" is perhaps the most 
 famous. 
 
 There are few school children who have not recited "Abou 
 Ben Adhem," and in the more serious business of life it has 
 served to point a moral, under most varied circumstances; 
 in the marts of trade and the senate chamber it is equally 
 familiar, for, short though it be, it is an epitome of true 
 Christianity. 
 
 CANDOR AND COURTESY. 
 
 Agnes Repplier. 
 
 There are certain virtues which seem to have an insep- 
 arable objection to living peacefully and quietly in one-an- 
 other's company. Turgenieff has told the story of Joves* 
 
 12 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 great banquet, at which there were no guests save virtues 
 — all feminine — and how, upon this august occasion, two 
 radiant creatures, Benevolence and Gratitude, met for the 
 first time. But there are others — old and intimate ac- 
 quaintances— who will not work harmoniously together, 
 and of these Candor and Courtesy are conspicuous for their 
 disagreements. It has been assumed that incompatibility 
 of temper must forever debar these admirable qualities from 
 joining hands to perfect a human soul. 
 
 All the best arguments are marshaled on the side of Can- 
 dor, and we dilate with our finest emotions at her name. The 
 word truth, like the word liberty, is held too sacred for 
 analysis. Only the still small voice of experience 
 whispers an occasional warning in behalf of Courtesy, yet 
 it has been well said that the difference between habitual 
 rudeness and habitual politeness in a man's behavior is 
 probably as great a difference as he will ever be able to 
 make in the sum of human happiness. 
 
 The mysterious connection which has been established be- 
 tween rudeness and probity on the one hand, and between 
 politeness and insincerity on the other, must be held re- 
 sponsible for much that is disagreeable in our daily inter- 
 course with our neighbors. We can bear tolerably well, en 
 masse, the hearing of our faults, because everybody believes 
 that the cap fits his neighbors head. There is something 
 discouraging about the prefix "plain." It does not carry 
 with it assurances of pleasing. A plain truth is sure to be 
 a disagreeable truth, and it is almost sure to be disagreeably 
 spoken. The plain speaker may not be unfriendly, but 
 neither is he our friend. The best that has been said of 
 him is that he is Laodicean, unconcerned either with our 
 pleasure or our pain. 
 
 "Manners maketh man" is the motto of the New College, 
 Oxford, and its founder devoutly believed that there is a 
 close and intimate connection between our outward de- 
 meanor and our inward grace. The perpetual surrender 
 which politeness exacts must reduce the sum total of our 
 selfishness. To listen when we want to talk, to talk 
 when we want to be silent, to stand when we want to sit 
 
 13 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 down, to accept the companionship of a stupid aquaintance 
 when we might at the expense of politeness escape— all 
 these things brace the sinews of our souls. They are not 
 easy. It is not even easy to temper our speech to the 
 shorn lamb who listens to us ; to say what we think will give 
 pleasure rather than strike that sharp note of individualism 
 which seldom stops short of brutality. 
 
 The cultivated and reasoned attitude which we call 
 Courtesy carries weight with thoughtful people. It means 
 that we control our own forces, that we have been drilled 
 in the priceless discipline of civilization. 
 
 Plain speaking is endurable only when it is immaculately 
 free from censoriousness. What is difficult to endure is 
 the deliberate utterance of truths unasked and unwelcome ; 
 truths which are not noble in themselves, and which are 
 not nobly spoken, which may be trusted to offend and 
 which nobody expects to illuminate . It is not for this 
 that we have perfected thru centuries the priceless gift 
 of language; it is not for this that we meet one another in 
 the charming intercourse of life. 
 
 From "The Smart Set" 
 
 JUST SO! 
 
 By Arthur Chamberlain. 
 Prize-Winner in the "Cheerful Verse-Competition* 
 
 When everything goes crooked, 
 
 And seems inclined to rile, 
 Don't kick nor fuss nor fidget, 
 
 Just--you-smile! 
 
 It's hard to learn the lesson. 
 
 But learn it if you'd win; 
 When people tease and pester, 
 
 Just — you — grin! 
 
 14 
 
ENNERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED 
 
 When some one tries to "do" you 
 
 By taking more than half, 
 Be patient, firm and pleasant; 
 
 Just —you — laugh) 
 
 But if you find you're stuffy 
 
 (Sometimes of course you will!) 
 And cannot smie nor grin nor laugh 
 
 Just-keep-still! , 
 
 THE HOLLY-TREE. 
 
 Reader! hast thou ever stood to see 
 The Holly Tree? 
 
 The eye that contemplates it well perceives 
 
 Its glossy leaves, 
 Ordered by an Intelligence so wise 
 
 As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. 
 
 Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, 
 
 Wrinkled and keen ; 
 No grazing cattle through their prickly round 
 
 Can reach to wound; 
 But as they grow where nothing is to fear, 
 
 Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear. 
 
 1 love to view those things with curious eyes, 
 And moralize: 
 
 And in this wisdom of the Holly-tree 
 
 Can emblem see 
 Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, 
 
 One which may profit in the after-time. 
 
 Thus though abroad perchance I might appear 
 
 Harsh and austere, 
 To those who on my leisure would intrude 
 
 Reserved and rude,- 
 Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, 
 
 Like the high leaves upon the Holly-tree. 
 
 15 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 And should my youth as youth is apt, I know — 
 
 Some harshness show 
 All vain asperities I day by day 
 
 Would wear away, 
 Till the smooth temper of my age should be 
 
 Like the high leaves upon the Holly- tree. 
 
 And as, when all the summer trees are seen 
 
 So bright and green, 
 The Holly leaves a sober hue display 
 
 Less bright than they, 
 But when the bare and wintry woods we see, 
 
 What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree ? 
 
 So serious should my youth appear among 
 
 The thoughtless throng; 
 So would I seem, amid the young and gay, 
 
 More grave than they, 
 That in my age as cheerful I might be 
 
 As the green winter of the Holly-tree. 
 
 Robert Sotjthey. 
 
 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 
 
 I had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. My 
 first visit was to the house where Shakespeare was born. 
 It is a small mean-looking edifice of wood and plaster, a 
 true nestling-place of genius, which seems to delight in 
 hatching its offspring in by corners. The walls of its 
 squalid chambers are covered with names and inscriptions 
 in every language, by pilgrims of all nations, ranks and 
 conditions, from the prince to the peasant, and present a 
 simple but striking instance of the spontaneous and uni- 
 versal homage of mankind to the great poet of nature. My 
 hostess was assiduous in exhibiting the relics with which 
 this, like all other celebrated shrines abounds. There was 
 an ample supply of Shakespeare's mulberry tree, which 
 seems to have as extraordinary powers of self-multipli- 
 
 16 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 cation as the wood of the true cross; of which there is 
 enough extant to build a ship of the line. The most favor- 
 ite object of curiosity however, is Shakespeare's chair. 
 In this chair it is the custom of every one that visits the 
 house to sit: whether this be done with the hope of im- 
 bibing any of the inspiration of the bard I am at a loss to 
 say, and mine hostess privately assured me, that, though 
 built in solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees, 
 that the chair had to be new bottomed once in three years. 
 It is worthy of notice also, in the history of this extraordinary 
 chair, that it partakes something of the volatile nature of 
 the Santa Casa of Lorretto, or the flying chair of the 
 Arabian enchanter; for though sold some years since to a 
 nothern princess, yet, strange to tell, it has found its way 
 back again to the old chimney corner. 
 
 I am always of easy faith in such matters, and am ever 
 willing to be deceived, where the deceit is pleasant and 
 costs nothing. I am therefore, a ready believer in relics, 
 legends, and local anecdotes of goblins and great men; and 
 would advise all travellers who travel for their gratifif ation 
 to be the same. What is it to us, whether these stories be 
 true or false, so long as we can persuade ourselves into 
 the belief of them, and enjoy all the charm of the reality? 
 There is nothing like resolute good-humored credulity in 
 these matters; and on this occasion I went so far as willing- 
 ly to believe the claims of mine hostess to a lineal descent 
 from the poet, when, luckily for my faith, she put into my 
 hands a play of her own composition, which set all belief 
 in her consanguinity at defiance. From the birthplace of 
 Shakespeare a few paces brought me to his grave. He 
 lies buried in the chancel of the parish church. The place 
 is solemn and sepulchral. Tall elms wave before the pointed 
 windows, and the Avon, which runs at a short distance 
 from the walls, keeps up a low perpetual murmur. A 
 flat stone marks the spot where the bard is buried. There 
 are four lines inscribed on it, said to have been written by 
 himself, and which have in them something extremely 
 awful. If they are indeed his own, they show that solici- 
 
 17 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 tude about the quiet of the grave which seems natural to 
 fine sensibilities and thoughtful minds. 
 Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
 
 To dig the dust inclosed here, 
 Blessed he be that spares these stones, 
 And curst he be that moves my bones. 
 The inscription on the tombstone has not been without its 
 effect. It has prevented the removal of his remains from 
 the bosom of his native place to Westminister Abbey, 
 which was at one time contemplated, a few years since also 
 as some laborers were digging to make an adjoining vault, 
 the earth caved in, so as to leave a vacant space almost like 
 an arch, through which one might have reached into his 
 grave. No one, however, presumed to meddle with his 
 remains so awfully guarded by a malediction; and lest any 
 of the idle or the curious, or any collector of relics, should 
 be tempted to commit depredations, the old sexton kept 
 watch over the place for two days, until the vault was 
 finished and the aperture closed again. He told me that 
 he had made bold to look in at the hole, but could see 
 neither coffin nor bones; nothing but dust. It was some- 
 thing, I thought, to have seen the dust of Shakespeare. 
 
 Washington Irving. 
 
 FROM CYMBELINE. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Nor the furious winter's rages, 
 Thou thy worldly task hast done 
 Home art gone and ta'en thy wages. 
 
 Fear no more the frown o' the great 
 Thou art past the tyrants' stroke 
 
 Care no more to clothe and eat 
 To thee the reed is as the oak 
 
 The sceptre, learning, physic must 
 All follow this and come to dust. 
 
 18 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Fear no more the lightning-flash, 
 Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone; 
 
 Fear not slander, censure rash; 
 Thou hast finished joy and moan; 
 
 All lovers young, all lovers must 
 Consign to thee, and come to dust. 
 
 Act. IV. -Sc. ii. 
 
 THE WORSHIP OF NATURE 
 By Whittier. 
 
 "Pentecost" is from a Greek word which signifies the 
 50th, because the feast of pentecost was celebrated the 50th 
 day after the 16th of Nisam, which was the second day of 
 the feast of the passover. On the day of Pentecost, as 
 recorded in the Bible, the law embodied in the ten command- 
 ments was given to Moses on Mt. Sinai, and on the day 
 of Pentecost occurred the miraculous descent of the Holy 
 Ghost upon the apostles, as thus told in the second chapter 
 of Acts: 
 
 "And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were 
 all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came 
 a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it 
 filled all the houses where they were sitting. And there 
 appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it 
 sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the 
 Holy Ghost and began to speak with other tongues, as the 
 spirit gave them utterance." 
 
 The harp at Nature's advent strung 
 
 Has never ceased to play; 
 The song the stars of morning sung 
 
 Has never died away. 
 
 And prayer is made, and praise is given, 
 
 By all things near and far; 
 The ocean looketh up to heaven, 
 
 And mirrors every star. 
 
 19 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Its waves are kneeling on the strand, 
 
 As kneels the human knee, 
 Their white locks bowing to the sand, 
 
 The priesthood of the sea! 
 
 They pour their glittering treasures forth. 
 
 Their gifts of pearl they bring, 
 And all the listening hills of earth 
 
 Take up the song they sing. 
 
 The green earth sends her incense up 
 From many a mountain shrine; 
 
 From folded leaf and dewy cup 
 She pours her sacred wine. 
 
 The mists above the morning rills 
 Rise white as wings of prayer; 
 
 The altar-curtains of the hills 
 Are sunset's purple air. 
 
 The winds with hymns of praise are loud, 
 
 Or low with sobs of pain — 
 The thunder-organ of the cloud, 
 
 The dropping tears of rain. 
 
 With drooping head and branches crossed, 
 
 The twilight forest grieves, 
 Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost 
 
 From all its sunlit leaves. 
 
 The blue sky is the temple's arch, 
 
 Its transept, earth and air, 
 The music of its starry march 
 
 The chorus of a prayer. 
 
 So nature keeps the reverent frame 
 
 With which her years began, 
 And all her signs and voices shame 
 
 The prayerless heart of man, 
 
 20 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THE OAK. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Live thy Life 
 
 Young and old 
 Like yon oak 
 
 Bright in spring 
 Living gold. 
 
 Summer-rich 
 
 Then-and then 
 Autumn-changed 
 
 Soberer-hued 
 Gold again 
 
 All his leaves 
 
 Fallen at length, 
 Look he stands 
 
 Trunk and bough. 
 Naked strength. 
 
 LOYALTY. 
 By Elbert Hubbard. 
 
 Loyalty is that quality which prompts a person to be true 
 to the thing he undertakes. It means definite direction, 
 fixity of purpose, steadfastness. Loyalty supplies power, 
 poise, purpose, ballast, and works for health and success. 
 
 Nature helps the loyal man. If you are careless, slipshod, 
 indifferent, nature assumes that you wish to be a nobody 
 and grants your desire. 
 
 Success hinges on loyalty. Be true to your art, your busi- 
 ness, your employer, your "house." 
 
 Loyalty is for the one who is loyal. It is a quality woven 
 through the very fabric of one's being, and never a thing 
 apart. Loyalty makes the thing to which you are loyal 
 yours. Disloyalty removes it from you. Whether anyone 
 knows of our disloyalty is really of little moment, either one 
 
 21 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 way or the other. The real point is, how does it affect 
 ourselves ? 
 
 Work is for the worker. Love is for the lover. Art is 
 for the artist. 
 
 The menial is a man who is disloyal to his work. 
 
 All useful service is raised to the plane of art when love 
 for the task — loyalty — is fused with the effort. 
 
 No man ever succeeded in business, or can, who "wears 
 the dial off the clock." Such a one may not be disloyal — 
 he may be merely unloyal; but he is always ripe for a lay-off 
 and always imagines some one has it in for him. 
 
 And he is right — everybody and everything, including 
 Fate and Destiny, Clio and Nemesis, has it in for him. The 
 only man who goes unscathed is the one who is loyal to 
 himself by being loyal to others. 
 
 Loyalty is the great lubricant in life. It saves the wear 
 and tear of making daily decisions as to what is best to do. 
 It preserves balance and makes results cumulative. The 
 man who is loyal to his work is not wrung nor perplexed by 
 doubts — he sticks to the ship, and if the ship founders he 
 goes down a hero with colors flying at the masthead and the 
 band playing. 
 
 The hospitals, jails, asylums and sanitariums are full 
 of disloyal people — folks who have been disloyal to friends, 
 society, business, work. Stick! and if you quit, quit to tackle 
 a harder job. God is on the side of the loyal. 
 {From CosmopolitanMagazine.) 
 
 CHIPETA. 
 
 She is bravest and best of a cursed race — 
 Give her a lodge on the mountain side, 
 And, when she is gone, on the hill provide 
 
 The Queen of the Utes' last resting place. 
 
 She rode where old Ouray dared not ride — 
 A path thru the wilderness, rough and wild; 
 She rode to plead for woman and child — 
 
 She rode by the yawning chasm's side. 
 
 22 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 She rode on the rocky, fir-clad hill, 
 Where the panther mewed, and the crested jay- 
 Piped echoless through the desert day — 
 
 She rode in the valleys dark and chill. 
 
 Oh! such a ride as a woman can — 
 By the God-like power that in her lies, 
 Or an inspiration from the skies — 
 
 Achieve for woman and son of man. — 
 
 They live and through the country wide 
 Where'er they come, where'er they go, 
 Though their hairs grow white as the driven snow, 
 They will tell of brave Chipeta's ride. 
 
 She is bravest and best of a cursed race — 
 Give her a lodge on a mountain side, 
 And, when she is gone, on the hill provide 
 
 The Queen of the Utes' last resting-place. 
 
 But give her a page in history too, 
 Though she be rotting in humble shrouds, 
 And write on the whitest of God's white clouds 
 
 Chipeta's name in eternal blue! 
 
 Eugene Field. 
 
 Chipeta by Eugene Field — Read by Eugene Field in 
 Denver Colorado, at a meeting of the Colorado Press Asso- 
 ciation desriptive of the Ute Chipeta's dash to save the captured 
 survivors of the White River massacre. 
 
 CON CREGAN'S LEGACY. 
 
 CHARLES LOVER. 
 
 I was born in a little cabin on the borders of Meath and 
 King's County; it stood on a small triangular bit of ground, 
 beside a crossroad, and although the place was surveyed 
 every ten years or so, they were never able to say to which 
 county we belonged, there being just the same number of 
 
 23 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 arguments for one side as for the other — a circumstance, 
 many believed, that decided my father in his original choice 
 of the residence; for while, under the ''disputed boundary 
 question" he paid no rates or county cess, he always made 
 a point of voting at both county elections. This may seem 
 to indicate that my parent was of a naturally acute habit; 
 and indeed the way he became possessed of the bit of 
 ground will confirm that impression. 
 
 There was nobody of the rank of gentry in the parish 
 nor even "squireen;" the richest being a farmer, a snug old 
 fellow, one Henry M'Cabe, that had two sons, who were 
 always fighting between themselves which was to have the 
 old man's money. Peter, the elder, doing everything to 
 injure Mat, and Mat never backward in paying off the 
 obligation. At last Mat, tired out in the struggle, resolved 
 he would bear no more. He took leave of his father one 
 night, and next day set off for Dublin, and 'listed in the 
 "Buffs." Three weeks after, he sailed for India; and the 
 old man, overwhelmed by grief, took to his bed, and never 
 arose from it after. 
 
 When, at last it was on a Sunday night all was still and 
 quiet in the house; not a word, not a footstep, could be 
 heard, no more than if it were uninhabited, the neighbors 
 looked knowingly at each other, and wondered if the old 
 man were worse if he were dead! It was a little after 
 midnight that a knock came to the door of our cabin. I 
 didn't speak, for I was frightened. Then came a cry"Con 
 Cregan; Con I say, open the door! I want you." I knew 
 the voice well; it was Peter M'Cabes': but I pretended to 
 be a?leep, and snored loudly. My father unbolted the door, 
 and I heard him say, "Oh, Mr. Peter, is the ould man 
 worse ?" 
 
 "Faix that's what he is! for he's dead!" 
 
 "Glory be his bed! when did it happen?" 
 
 "About an hour ago," said Peter, "he died like an ould 
 haythen, Con, and never made a will!" 
 
 "That's bad," says my father. 
 
 "It is bad," said Peter; "but it would be worse if we 
 
 24 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 couldn't help it. Listen to me now, Corny, I want ye to 
 help me in this business ; and here's five guineas in goold, 
 if ye do what I bid ye. You know that ye were always 
 reckoned the image of my father, and before he took ill ye 
 were mistaken for each other every day of the week." 
 
 "Anan!' said my father; for he was getting frightened at 
 the notion, without well knowing why. 
 
 "Well, what I want is, for ye to come over to the house, 
 and get into the bed." 
 
 "Not beside the corpse?" said my father, trembling. 
 
 "By no means, but by yourself; and you're to pretend to 
 be my father, and that ye want to make yer will before ye 
 die ; and then I'll send for the neighbors, and Billy Scanlan 
 the school master, and ye'll lell him what to write, laving 
 all the farm and everything to me, — ye understand. ?" 
 
 "The room must be very dark," says my father. 
 
 To be sure it will, but have no fear! Nobody will dare 
 to come nigh the bed; and ye'll only have to make a cross 
 with yer pen under the name," Come along now, quick, 
 for we've no time to lose; it must be all finished before the 
 day breaks." 
 
 My father did not lose much time at his toilet. I list- 
 ened till they were gone some minutes ; and then set out 
 after them, to watch the course of the adventure. 
 
 I think I see the whole scene this instant before my eyes. 
 
 It was a large room, at one end of which was a bed, and 
 beside it a table; a little farther off was another table, at 
 which sat Billy Scanlan, with all manner of writing materi- 
 als before him. The country people, two and three deep 
 sat round the walls. Peter went from place to place, help- 
 ing the company to whiskey which was supplied with more 
 than accustomed liberality. 
 
 All my consciousness of the deceit and trickery could 
 not deprive the scene of a certain solemnity ; as I looked, 
 I actually shook with fear. 
 
 Then in a silence where the buzzing of a fly would 
 have been heard, my father said, "Where's Billy Scanlan ? 
 I want to make my will." 
 
 25 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "He's here, father," said Peter, leading Billy to the 
 bedside. 
 
 "Write what I bid ye, Billy, I die in peace with all 
 my neighbors and all mankind." 
 
 ' T bequeath unto my son Peter, — have you that down? 
 The whole of my two farms of Killimundoonery and 
 Knocksheboora. I give him, and much good may it do him, 
 Lanty Cassarn's acre, and the Luary field, with the lime 
 kiln; and that reminds me that my mouth is just as dry; 
 let me taste what ye have in the jug." Here the dying 
 man took a very hearty pull, and seemed considerably re- 
 freshed by it. "Wheerdid I leave off Billy," says he, "oh, 
 I remember, at the lime-kiln; I leave him the two pota- 
 to gardens at Noonan's Well; and it is the elegant fine crops 
 grows there." 
 
 "Ain't you gettin' wake, father darlin'?" says Peter, 
 who began to be afraid of my father's loquaciousness. 
 
 "I am, Peter, my son," says he; "I am getting wake; 
 just touch my lips again with the jug. Ah Peter, 
 Peter, you watered the drink!" 
 
 "No, indeed, father; but it's the taste is lavin' you," 
 says Peter ; and again a low chorus of compassionate pity 
 murmured through the cabin. 
 
 "Well, I'm nearly done now. There's only one little plot 
 of ground remaining; and I put it on you, that ye mind 
 my last words to ye here. Are the neighbors listening?" 
 
 "Yes, father. We're all minding," chorused the audience. 
 
 "I say, then, I bequeath the little plot at the crossroads 
 to poor Con Cregan ; as honest and hard-working a man 
 as ever I knew, Peter dear; never let him want while ye 
 have it yourself. Is it down, Billy Scanlan ? the two acres 
 at the cross to Con Cregan, and his heirs in sec la sec- 
 lorum. Ah, I feel my heart lighter after that, 'a good work 
 makes an easy conscience' ; and now I'll drink all the com- 
 pany's good health, and many happy returns." 
 
 Peter who was now terribly frightened at the lively tone 
 of the sick man, hurried the people into another room, to 
 let his father die in peace. 
 
 26 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 When all were gone Peter slipped back to my father who 
 was putting on his brogues in a corner; "Con," says he, 
 "ye did it well but sure that was a joke about the two 
 acres at the cross." 
 
 "Of course it was Peter," says he; "sure it was all a joke 
 for the matter of that; won't I make the neighbors laugh 
 hearty to-morrow when I tell them all about it!" 
 
 "You wouldn't be mean enough to betray me?" says 
 Peter trembling with fright 
 
 "Sure ye wouldn't be mean enough to go against yer 
 father's dying words?" says my father, the last words ever 
 he spoke ; and here my father gave a low, wicked laugh, 
 that made myself shake with fear. 
 
 "Very well, Con!" says Peter, holding out his hand; "A 
 bargain's a bargain; ye'r a deep fellow, that's all!" and so 
 it ended, and my father slipped quietly home over the bog 
 well satisfied with the legacy he left himself. 
 
 And thus we became the owners of the little spot known 
 to this day as Con's Acre. 
 
 DE LAWD 'LL SEE YO FROO. 
 By Maurice Smiley. 
 
 Sometimes de sky's got lots o' gray 
 
 An' mighty little blue; 
 But jes yo' keep a-peggi'n' 'way 
 
 De Lawd '11 see yo' froo. 
 Jes do yo' duty day by day; 
 
 Da's all dat yo' kin do. 
 Jes yo' keep a-peggin' 'way 
 
 Be suh yo' don' fuhgit to pray; 
 
 De Lawd '11 see yo' froo. 
 
 Ah wen' to Him de othah day 
 
 An' ast Him what to do. 
 He said: "Yo' keep a-peggin' 'way 
 
 An' Ah will see yo' froo." 
 
 27 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Jes do yo' duty day by day, 
 An' jes be good an' true. 
 Jes yo' keep a-peggin' 'way . 
 Be suh yo' don' fuhgit to pray; 
 De Lawd '11 see yo' froo. 
 
 A RIVER PASTORAL. 
 By Clinton Scollard. 
 
 It was a random rhymer 
 
 Blithe-hearted as the May, 
 Who plucked the flowering climber 
 
 Along the river-way; 
 It was the ferryman's daughter, 
 
 With gypsy rose and tan, 
 Who ferried o'er the water 
 
 This straying minstrel-man. 
 
 Her hair had purple tintings 
 
 Above her sea-shell ear; 
 Her eyes had starry glintings; 
 
 Her laugh was lyric clear. 
 He listened and he lingered — 
 
 (His tryst was one with Fate!) 
 Till eve the fairy-fingered 
 
 Had shut day's sunset gate. 
 
 Thus oft they met thereafter, 
 At last no more to part; 
 
 For Love (or was it laughter?) 
 
 Had snared the rhymer's heart. 
 
 And now upon life's ocean 
 The twain together float; 
 
 He's captain, — that's his notion! 
 But she still steers the boat! 
 
 28 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 OVERRULED. 
 
 The threads our hands in blindness spin 
 No self-determined plan weaves in; 
 The shuttle of the unseen powers 
 Works out a pattern not as ours. 
 
 Ah ! small the choice of him who sings 
 What sound shall leave the smitten strings; 
 Fate holds and guides the hand of art; 
 The singer's is the servant's part. 
 
 The wind-harp chooses not the tone 
 That through its trembling threads is blown j 
 The patient organ cannot guess 
 What hand its passive keys shall press. 
 
 Through wish, resolve, and act, our will 
 Is moved by undreamed forces still ; 
 And no man measures in advance 
 His strength with untried circumstance. 
 
 As streams take hue from shade and sun, 
 As runs the life the song must run; 
 But, glad or sad, to his good end 
 God grant the varying notes may tend! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 ABDICATION. 
 
 Almost noon! 
 
 Silent and immovable 
 There they stood, the troops of the Republic — 
 In the sunbathed plaza. Before them rose 
 The gleaming palace walls that for long years 
 Had witnessed Spain's magnificence, waiting now, 
 In audible hush, to see a great power die. 
 Behind them thronged the eager populace; 
 
 29 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Waiting in a hushed suspense as now they watched 
 The road to La Vodade, and then turned wistful eyes 
 Up to the flags that fluttering rose and fell 
 From palace, forts and buildings of the public; 
 Flags of flaunting yellow, crossed with bands 
 Of crimson, deep and bright as life's hot blood; 
 Flags that but typified, to those crushed hearts, 
 Stern tyranny and heavy, dire oppression; 
 Steeped in their vital fluid till a rain 
 Fell, crimson on the gruesome street below 
 With every shifting wind that stirred the folds, 
 And heavy, dragging feet, leadlike were clogged 
 With weary wading through the clotted gore. 
 
 Far down the street a horseman came in view ! 
 Another-aye-and still another! Till 
 The Peace Commissioners, a body whole, 
 Rode to the palace steps and there dismounted. 
 
 The noon had come! 
 
 That instant from within 
 The palace walls, Spain's general advanced, 
 Surrounded by his staff whose uniforms, 
 A-glitter with magnificence, but mocked 
 The sad and grieving hearts they covered o'er, 
 Saluting with an innate courtesy 
 That but a man can give his conquerors. 
 Brave Castelanos spoke, as pale — ay, white 
 Unto his very lips, he stood before them, 
 His trembling tones revealing his deep grief; 
 And in the name of Spain's Queen Regent, for 
 Her little son, the King, he gave to those 
 Whose power had proven greater, Cuba's isle. 
 His generous foe with briefness answered him 
 And in his turn a quick possession gave 
 Unto the military governor. 
 And now all eyes were fixed upon the flags. 
 Four weary, weary centuries and more, 
 
 30 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 The Queen of all the Seas had borne the yoke. 
 With bated breath they watched the drifting folds, 
 And with the first, uncertain, downward move, 
 Almost a sob broke from their quivering lips 
 And echoed while the hated emblem fell. 
 Yet still, they looked no other way until, 
 With swift, protecting, gracious mien, 
 Was flung out to the waiting ocean breeze 
 Another banner, freedom starred and striped, 
 Whose red and white and dotted field of blue, 
 Reached out in benediction over this, 
 The latest born. 
 
 Hoarse, deep-voiced guns belched forth 
 Their thunderous tones in eager, hearty welcome, 
 And frenzied shouts of men, joy-maddened, answered them. 
 There, silent, General Castelanos stood 
 In all the clamorous tumult. Not a sound 
 Broke from his lips. Still whiter, more like death. 
 Had grown his pain-drawn face, when he had seen 
 The emblem of his well-loved country fall 
 To never rise again in that fair land. 
 His eyes refused their office and his sight 
 Was, by God's gracious mercy, sudden veiled 
 By curtain of a strong man's bitter tears. 
 And as the shouts of victory came loud 
 And full, joy-laden, to his listening ears — 
 Obeisance to the conqueror — , he turned 
 With pathos in his gesture, broken voiced, 
 Toward its representatives, and said, 
 " Death has walked with me many, many times 
 And I have known not fear; but now methinks 
 "Twere but a welcome boon compared to this. 
 You are my enemies, but unto him 
 Who is the greatest one, would I not wish 
 The sting, the grief, the anguish that is now 
 So filling and consuming all my heart" 
 Amid their great rejoicing, they, his foes, 
 Gave homage to the man whose manhood bled, 
 And tendered him their honest sympathy. 
 
 31 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 His footsteps passed down to the water's edge 
 To well known music of his native land, 
 Sent forth into the air by conqueror's breath; 
 But as the little boat passed out upon 
 The dancing, sunkissed waters of the bay, 
 Was borne to him the grand and solemn notes 
 Of Freedom's mighty hymn, — "America." 
 
 The noon has passed! 
 
 And in that sunny isle 
 There reigns a better and a happier power. 
 Dread Spain has loosed the galling, festering gyves, 
 And Cuba, fair, unfettered — now is free. 
 
 CORA GAINES CARREL 
 
 HEROISM IN HOUSEKEEPING. 
 Jane Welsh Carlyle. 
 
 So many talents are wasted, so many enthusiasms turned 
 to smoke, so many lives spoiled for want of a little patience 
 and endurance, for want of understanding and laying to 
 heart the meaning of The Present — for want of recognizing 
 that it is not the greatness or littleness of the duty nearest 
 hand, but the spirit in which one does it, which makes one's 
 doing noble or mean! I can't think how people who have 
 natural ambition, and any sense of power in them, escape 
 going mad in a world like this, without the recognition of 
 that, I know I was very near mad when I found it out for 
 myself (as one has to find out for oneself everything that is 
 to be of any real practical use to one.) 
 
 Shall I tell you how it came into my head? Perhaps it 
 may be of comfort to you in similar moments of fatigue and 
 disgust. I had gone with my husband to live on a little 
 estate of peat bog, that had descended to me all the way down 
 from John Welsh, the Covenanter, who married a daughter 
 of John Knox. That didn't, I'm ashamed to say, make me 
 
 32 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 feel Craigenputtock a whit less of a peat bog and a most 
 dreary, untoward place to live at. In fact, it was sixteen 
 miles distant on every side from all the conveniences of life, 
 shops, and even post office. Further, we were very poor, 
 and further and worst, being an only child, and brought up 
 to great prospects, I was sublimely ignorant of every branch 
 of useful knowledge, though a capital Latin scholar and 
 a very fair mathematician. 
 
 It behooved me in these astonishing circumstances to 
 learn to sew. Husbands, I was shocked to find, wore their 
 stockings into holes, and were always losing buttons, and 
 I was expected "to look to all that," also it behooved me to 
 learn to cook!" no capable servant' choosing to live at such 
 an out-of-the-way place, and my husband having bad digest- 
 ion, which complicated my difficulties dreadfully. The 
 bread above all, brought from Dumfries "soured on his 
 stomach" (O Heaven!) and it was plainly my duty as a 
 Christian wife to bake at home. 
 
 So I sent for Cobbett's "Cottage Economy." and fell to 
 work at a loaf of bread. But knowing nothing about the 
 process of fermentation or the heat of ovens, it came to pass 
 that my loaf got put into the oven at the time that I myself 
 ought to have been put into bed; and I remained the only 
 person not asleep in a house in the middle of a desert. 
 
 One o'clock struck! and then two!! and then three!!! 
 And still I was sitting there in the midst of an immense soli- 
 tude, my whole body aching with weariness, my heart aching 
 with a sense of forlorness and degradation. That I, who had 
 been so petted at home, whose comfort had been studied by 
 everybody, in the house, who had never been required to 
 do anything but cultivate my mind, should have to pass all 
 those hours of the night in watching a loaf of bread which 
 mightn't turn out bread after all! Such thoughts maddened 
 me, till I laid down my head on the table and sobbed aloud. 
 It was then that somehow the idea of Benvenuto Cellini 
 sitting up all night watching his Perseues in the furnace 
 came into my head, and suddenly I asked myself: "After all, 
 in the sight of the upper Powers, what is the mighty difference 
 
 33 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 between a statue of Perseus and a loaf of bread, so that each 
 be the thing that one's hand has found to do? The man's 
 determined will, his energy, his patience his resource were 
 the really admirable things of which, his statue of Perseus 
 was the mere chance expression. If he had been a woman 
 living at Craigenputtook with a dyspeptic husband, sixteen 
 miles from a baker, and he a bad one, all these qualities 
 would have come out more fitly in a good loaf of bread. !" 
 
 I cannot express what consolation this germ of an idea 
 spread over my uncongenial life during the years we lived 
 at that savage place. 
 
 TO MYSELF. 
 Paul Fleming. 
 
 Let nothing make thee sad or fretful 
 
 Or too regretful; 
 
 Be still! 
 What God hath ordered must be right 
 Then find in it thine own delight, 
 
 My will. 
 
 Why shouldst thou fill to-day with sorrow 
 
 About to-morrow, 
 
 My heart? 
 One watches all with care most true: 
 Doubt not that he will give thee too 
 
 Thy part. 
 
 Only be steadfast, never waver, 
 
 Nor seek earth's favor, 
 
 But rest; 
 Thou knowest what God wills must be 
 For all his creatures, so for thee, 
 
 The best. 
 
 34 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 FAVORITE POEM. 
 
 OF 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 However practical a man may be — however deeply he 
 may be engrossed in pursuits that would seem to be almost 
 as barren of poetry as a city pavement is of verdure, there is 
 some chord in his heart that the right poet may strike and 
 fill his soul with melody. There is scarcely a man in any 
 walk of life who has not at some time in his life come upon 
 a poem which seemed to voice his own ideals. 
 
 In the private office of the President in the White 
 House, hangs, in the handwriting of its author, a poem by 
 the late Senator John J. Ingalls, of Kansas. The title of 
 the poem is "Opportunity." This framed manuscript 
 and a portrait of President Lincoln are the only objects on 
 the walls of the apartments. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY. 
 John J. Ingalls. 
 
 Master of human destinies am I! 
 
 Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait, 
 Cities and fields I walk: I penetrate 
 
 Deserts and seas remote, and passing by 
 Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late 
 I knock unbidden once, at every gate! 
 
 If feasting, rise; if sleeping, wake before 
 I turn away. It is the hour of fate, 
 And they who follow me reach every state 
 
 Mortals desire, and conquer every foe 
 
 Save death. But those who doubt or hesitate, 
 
 Condemned to failure, penury and woe, 
 Seek me in vain and ceaselessly implore; 
 I answer not, and I return — no more. 
 
 35 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 JENNIE. 
 
 Fred Emerson Brooks. 
 
 "The sweetest lass in all the land 
 Is Jennie, Jennie, Jennie!" 
 
 Said Robin as he held each hand, 
 Too many, many, many! 
 
 'Twas in the lane, the fence was high ; 
 
 There was no room to pass him by; 
 
 He held my wings, I could not fly; 
 Not any, any. any! 
 
 "How many sweethearts have you, pray, 
 
 Sweet Jennie, Jennie, Jennie?" 
 The rogue within me bade me say — 
 
 Not many, many, many! 
 But when I found it grieved the youth, 
 I could no longer hide the truth, 
 And said, not many was, forsooth, 
 Not any, any, any! 
 
 He said: "And would one sweetheart be 
 
 Too many, many, many? 
 Could you accept of one like me, 
 
 My Jennie, Jennie, Jennie?" 
 Let others think what'er they may, 
 When Robin took my heart away, 
 I had no heart to tell him nay, 
 Not any, any, any! 
 
 Although I never said he could 
 
 Take any, any, any! 
 He did just what I thought he would — 
 
 Kiss Jennie, Jennie, Jennie! 
 My lips were closed, I could not add, 
 Nor count the kisses of the lad, 
 And yet I hardly think he had 
 
 Too many, many many! 
 
 36 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 ST. FRANCIS 
 
 and 
 THE BIRDS. 
 
 From the Little Flowers of Saint Francis of Assisi. 
 
 One day, when Saint Francis had preached to a great 
 multitude of people, he lifted his eyes, and saw near the 
 road some trees, whereon was a great company of birds, 
 well-nigh without number, and immediately the good Saint 
 said, "These, my little sisters, would also hear the word of 
 God." So he bade his companions wait for him, and went 
 into the field near by, and began to preach to the birds; 
 and they flew close to him in great numbers to listen "to 
 him, and all of them remained still and quiet together. 
 And the old legend says that the sermon Saint Francis 
 preached to the birds was this: 
 
 "My little sisters, the birds, much bounden are ye unto 
 God, your Creator, and always, in every place ought ye 
 to praise Him for that He hath given you liberty to fly 
 about everywhere, and hath also given you double and triple 
 rainment, moreover. He preserved your seed in the Ark 
 of Noah, that your race might not perish out of the world; 
 still more are ye beholden to Him for the elemen t of the 
 air which He hath appointed for you; beyond all this, ye 
 sow not, neither do ye reap, and God feedeth you and giveth 
 you the streams and fountains for your drink, the mountains 
 and valleys for your refuge, and the high trees whereon to 
 make your nests; and because ye know not how to spin or 
 sew, God clotheth you, you and your children; wherefore, 
 your Creator loveth you much, seeing that He hath bestowed 
 
 37 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 on you so many benefits; and therefore, my little sisters, 
 beware of the sin of ingratitude, and study always to give 
 praises unto God." 
 
 Then the birds, by many signs and by their glad songs, 
 showed Saint Francis that he had given them great joy, 
 and Saint Francis rejoiced with them and wondered at 
 their great numbers, their most beautiful diversity, their 
 good heed and sweet friendliness and thanked God for them. 
 Then Saint Francis blessed the birds, and one and all, with 
 glad singing, rose up in the air and flew away toward the 
 north and the south and the east and the west in great 
 companies, and each flight went on its way singing wondrous 
 songs. 
 
 OLD FASHIONED PHILOSOPHY. 
 J. A. Edgerton. 
 
 Scorn not the homely virtues. We are prone 
 To search through all the world for something new: 
 And yet sometimes old-fashioned things are best — 
 Old-fashioned work, old-fashioned rectitude, 
 Old-fashioned honor and old-fashioned prayer, 
 Old-fashioned patience that can bide its time, 
 Old-fashioned firesides sacred from the world, 
 Old-fashioned satisfaction with enough, 
 Old-fashioned candor and simplicity, 
 Old-fashioned folks that practice what they preach. 
 
 THE OULD PLAID SHAWL. 
 
 FRANCIS A. FAHY. 
 
 Not far from old Knivara, in the merry month of May, 
 When birds were singing cheerily, there came across my 
 
 way, 
 As if from out the sky above an angel chanced to fall, 
 A little Irish cailin in an ould plaid shawl. 
 
 38 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 She tripped along right joyously, a basket on her arm; 
 And oh! her face, and, oh! her grace the soul of saint 
 
 would charm; 
 Her brown hair rippled o'er her brow, but the greatest 
 
 charm of all 
 Was her modest blue eyes beaming 'neath her ould plaid 
 
 shawl. 
 
 I courteously saluted her, "God save you, miss," says I; 
 "God save you, kindly sir," said she, and shyly passed me by; 
 Off went my heart along with her a captive in her thrall, 
 Imprisoned in the corner of her ould plaid shawl. 
 
 Enchanted with her beauty rare, I gazed in pure delight, 
 Till round an angle of the road she vanished from my sight; 
 But ever since I sighing say, as I that scene recall, 
 The grace of God about you and your ould plaid shawl. 
 
 I've heard of highway robbers that, with pistols and with 
 
 knives, 
 Make trembling travelers yield them up their money or their 
 
 lives, 
 But think of me that handed out my heart and head and all 
 To a simple little Cailin in an ould plaid shawl. 
 
 Oh! graceful the mantillas that the signorinas wear, 
 And tasteful are the bonnets of Parisian ladies fair, 
 But never cloak, or hood or robe, in palace, bow'r' or hall, 
 Clad half such witching beauty as that ould plaid shawl. 
 
 Oh! some men sigh for riches, and some men live for fame, 
 And some on history's pages hope to win a glorious name; 
 My aims are not ambitious, and my wishes are but small, 
 You might wrap them all together in an ould plaid shawl. 
 
 I'll seek her all through Galway, and I'll seek her all through 
 
 Clare, 
 I'll search for tale or tidings of my traveler, everywhere, 
 For peace of mind I'll never find until my own I call 
 That little Irish Cailin in her ould plaid shawl. 
 
 39 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 TACT AND TALENT. 
 
 From the "London Atlas". 
 
 TALENT is something, but tact is everything. Talent 
 is serious, sober, grave and respectabe; tact is all that 
 and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but it is the life of 
 all the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging 
 taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch ; it is the interpre- 
 ter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the re- 
 mover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all 
 times; it is useful in solitude , for it shows a man his way 
 into the world; it is useful in society, for it shows him his 
 way through the world. 
 
 Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight, tact is mo- 
 mentum: talent knows what to do, tact knows how to do 
 it; talent makes a man respectable, tact will make him re- 
 spected ; talent is wealth, tact is ready money. 
 
 For all the practical purposes of life, tact carries it against 
 talent, ten to one. Take them to the theatre, and put them 
 against each other on the stage, and talent shall produce you 
 a tragedy that will scarcely live long enough to be condemed 
 while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after night, with 
 its successful farces. There is no want of dramatic talent, 
 there is no want of dramatic tact ; but they are seldom to- 
 gether; so we have successful pieces which are not respect- 
 able and respectable pieces which are not successful. 
 
 Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned 
 curls at each other in legal rivalry. Talent sees its way 
 clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. Talent has 
 many a compliment from the bench, but tact touches fees 
 from attorney and clients. Talent speaks learnedly and 
 logically tact triumphantly. Talent makes the world wonder 
 that it gets on no faster, tact excites astonishment that it gets 
 on so fast. And the secret is, that tact has no weight to 
 carry; it makes no false steps, it hits the right nail on the 
 head; it loses no time; it takes all hints; and by keeping 
 its eye on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of 
 every wind that blows. 
 
 Take them into the church. Talent has always some- 
 thing worth hearing, tact is sure of abundance of hearers ; 
 talent may obtain a good living, tact will make one; talent 
 
 40 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 gets a good name, tact gets a great one, talent convinces, 
 tact converts; talent is an honor to the profession, tact 
 gains honor from the profession. 
 
 Place them in the senate. Talent has the ear of the house 
 but tact wins its heart, and has its votes; talent is fit for 
 employment, but tact is fitted for it. Tact has a knack of 
 slipping into place with a sweet silence and glibness of move- 
 ment, as a billiard ball insinuates itself into the pocket. 
 It seems to know everything, without learning anything. 
 It has served an invisible and extemporary apprenticeship; 
 it wants no drilling; it never ranks in the awkward squad 
 it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on 
 no look of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity 
 but plays with the details of place as dexterously as a well 
 taught hand flourishes over the pianoforte. It has all the 
 air of commonplace, and all the force and power of genius. 
 
 THE WIND AND THE MOON. 
 
 George MacDonald. 
 
 Said the Wind to the Moon "I will blow you out 
 
 You stare, 
 
 In the air, 
 Like a ghost in a chair 
 Always looking what I am about 
 I hate to be watched: I'll blow you out." 
 
 The wind blew hard and out went the moon 
 
 So deep 
 
 On a heap 
 
 Of cloudless sleep. 
 Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon, 
 Mattering low "I've done for that moon." 
 
 41 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 He turned in his bed, she was there again 
 
 On high 
 
 In the sky 
 
 With her ghost eye. 
 The moon shone white, and alive, and plain, 
 Said the wind. "I'll blow you out again. 
 
 The wind blew hard and the moon grew dim; 
 
 "With my sledge 
 
 And my wedge 
 
 I have knocked off her edge 
 If only I blow right fierce and grim 
 The creature will soon be dimmer than dim." 
 
 He blew and he blew and she thinned to a thread 
 
 "One puff 
 
 More's enough 
 
 To blow her to snuff 
 One good — puff more where the last was bred 
 And glimmer, glum will go the thread." 
 
 He blew a great blast and the thread was gone. 
 
 In the air 
 
 Nowhere 
 
 Was a moonbeam bare; 
 Far off and harmless the sky stars shone; 
 Sure and certain the Moon was gone. 
 
 THE WITCH IN THE GLASS. 
 Sarah M. B. Piatt. 
 
 "My mother says I must not pass 
 
 Too near that glass ; 
 
 She is afraid that I will see 
 
 A little witch that looks like me, 
 
 With red, red mouth to whisper low 
 
 The very thing I should not know!" 
 
 42 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "Alack for all your mother's care! 
 
 A bird of the air, 
 
 A wistful wind, or (I suppose, 
 
 Sent by some hapless boy) a rose, 
 
 With breath too sweet, will whisper low 
 
 The very thing you should not know." 
 
 THE STORY OF DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Most of the best and noblest of the Greeks held what 
 was called the Pythagorean philosophy. Pythagoras lived 
 before the time of history, and almost nothing is known 
 about him, though his teaching and his name were never 
 lost. There is a belief that he lived about the time of the 
 dispersion of the Israelites. One thing is plain, that even 
 in dealing with heathenism the Divine rule holds good. 
 "By their fruits ye shall know them." Golden deeds are 
 only to be found among men whose belief is earnest and 
 sincere. The Pythagoreans were bound together in a 
 brotherhood, and they were taught to restrain their 
 passions, especially that of anger, and to endure with 
 patience all kinds of suffering; believing that such self- 
 restraint brought them nearer to the gods, and that death 
 would free them from the prison of the body. 
 
 In the end of the fourth century before the Christian 
 era, two friends of this Pythagorean sect, lived at Syra- 
 cuse, which was a great city built in Sicily and full of all 
 kinds of Greek art and learning. It had fallen under the 
 control of Dionysius, a capricious tyrant, but as he was 
 an exceedingly able man he made the city more rich and 
 powerful. He was a good scholar, and very fond of philo- 
 sophy and poetry, but the sense that he was in a posi- 
 tion that did not belong to him, and that everyone hated 
 him for assuming it, made him very harsh and suspicious. 
 Of him is told that famous anecdote which has become a 
 proverb, that on hearing a friend, named Damocles, ex- 
 press a wish to be in his situation for a single day, he took 
 him at his word, and Damocles found himself at a ban- 
 quet with everything that could delight his senses, de- 
 
 43 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 licious food, costly wine, flowers, perfumes, music; but with 
 a sword's point almost touching his head, and hanging by 
 a single horse-hair! This was to show the Condition in 
 which a usurper lived. 
 
 Among those who came under the anger of Dionysius, 
 was a Pythagorean called Pythias, who was sentenced to 
 death. He had lands and relations in Greece and he en- 
 treated as a favor to be allowed to return thither and ar- 
 range his affairs, engaging to return within a specified time 
 to suffer death. The tyrant scorned his request. Once 
 safe out of Sicily, who would answer for his return? 
 Pythias replied that he had a friend who would become 
 security for his return. Dionysius who trusted nobody 
 was ready to scoff at his simplicity, when another Pyhthag- 
 orean, by name Damon came forward and promised if Pyth- 
 ias did not return, to suffer death in his stead. Diony- 
 ius much astonished, consented to let Pythias go. Time 
 went on and Pythias did not appear. The Syracusans 
 watched Damon but he showed no signs of uneasiness. He 
 said he was sure of his friend's truth and honor, and if 
 by any accident his return had been delayed, he should re- 
 joice in dying to save the life of one who was so dear to 
 him. Even to the last day Damon continued serene and 
 content. When the very hour drew nigh and still no 
 Pythias, his trust was so perfect, that he did not even grieve 
 at having to die for a faithless friend who had left him to 
 the fate to which he had unwarily pledged himself. He 
 declared it was owing to the wind and waves that his 
 friend had not returned. The hour had come, and a few 
 moments more would have ended Damon's life when Py- 
 thias presented himself, embraced his friend, and stood 
 forward to receive his sentence, calm, resolute, and rejoiced 
 that he had come in time. Dionysius looked on more 
 struck than ever. He felt that neither of such men must 
 die. He reversed the sentence of Pythias, and calling the 
 two to his judgement seat, he entreated them to admit him 
 as a third in their friendship. Yet all the time he must 
 have known it was a mockery that he should ever be 
 such as they were to each other — he who had lost the very 
 
 44 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 power of trusting, and constantly sacrificed others to 
 secure his own life whilst they counted not their lives 
 dear to them in comparision with their truth to their word 
 and love to one another. No wonder that Damon and Pyh- 
 ias have become such a byword that they seem too well 
 known to have their story told, except that sometimes a 
 name is mentioned by those who have forgotten or never 
 heard the tale attached to it. 
 
 "Charlotte M. Yonge." 
 
 THE ROAD TO YOU. 
 
 (FROM "THE OMAR SONNETS AND THE LEFRA LYRICS.") 
 
 {Translated by Oliver Opp Dyke.) 
 
 I 
 There's a road to heaven, a road to hell, 
 A road for the sick and one for the Well, 
 There's a road for the false and a road for the true, 
 But the road for me is the road to you. 
 
 ii. 
 There's a road through prairie and forest and glen, 
 A road to each place in human ken, 
 There's a road over earth and a road over sea, 
 But the road to you is the road for me. 
 
 in. 
 
 There's a road for animal, bird, and beast, 
 A road for the greatest, a road for the least, 
 There's a road that is old and a road that is new, 
 But the road for me is the road to you. 
 
 IV 
 
 There's a road for the heart, and a road for the soul, 
 There's a j oad for a part and a road for the whole, 
 There's a road for love — which few ever see — 
 'Tis the road to you and the road for me. 
 
 Permission from Oliver Opp Dyke. 
 45 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 Walter Malone. 
 
 They do me wrong who say I come no more, 
 When once I knock and fail to find you in ; 
 
 For every day I stand outside your door 
 And bid you wake and rise to fight and win. 
 
 Wail not for precious chances passed away, 
 Weep not for golden ages on the wane, 
 
 Each night I burn the records of the day 
 At sunrise every soul is born again. 
 
 Laugh like a boy at splendors that have fled, 
 To vanished joys be blind, and deaf and dumb. 
 
 My judgments seal the dead past with its dead 
 But never bind a moment yet to come. 
 
 Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep 
 
 I lend my arm to all who say "I can." 
 No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep 
 
 But yet might rise and be again a man. 
 
 Dos't thou behold thy lost youth all aghast, 
 Dost reel from righteous retribution's blow, 
 
 Then turn from blotted archives of the past 
 And find the future's pages white as snow. 
 
 Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell, 
 Art thou a sinner ? Sins may be forgiven. 
 
 Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, 
 Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven. 
 
 4Q 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 A BUILDER'S LESSON. 
 John Boyle O' Reilly, 
 
 "How shall I a habit break?" 
 
 As you did that habit make, 
 
 As you gathered, you must lose; 
 
 As you yielded, now refuse. 
 
 Thread by thread the strands we twist 
 
 Till they bind us neck and wrist; 
 
 Thread by thread the patient hand 
 
 Must untwine ere free we stand; 
 
 As we builded, stone by stone, 
 
 We must toil unhelped, alone, 
 
 Till the wall is overthrown. 
 
 But remember, as we try, 
 Lighter every test goes by; 
 Wading in, the stream grows deep 
 Toward the center's downward sweep ; — 
 Backward turn, each step ashore 
 Shallower is than that before. 
 
 Ah, the precious years we waste 
 Leveling what we raised in haste; 
 Doing what must be undone, 
 Ere content or love be won! 
 First across the gulf we cast 
 Kite-born threads, till lines are passed, 
 And habit builds the bridge at last! 
 
 ANNER LIZER'S STUMBLING BLOCK. 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar. 
 
 It was winter. The gray old mansion of Mr. Robert 
 Selfridge, of Fayette County, Ky., was wrapped in its usual 
 mantle of winter sombreness, and the ample plantation 
 stretching in every direction thereabout was one level plain 
 of unflecked whiteness. At a distance from the house the 
 
 47 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 cabins of the negroes stretched away in a long, broken black 
 line that stood out in bold relief against the extreme white- 
 ness of their surroundings. 
 
 About the centre of the line, as dark and uninviting as 
 the rest, with its wide chimney of scrap limestone turning 
 clouds of dense smoke into the air, stood a cabin. Within 
 its confines lived and thrived the heroine of this story. 
 
 Of all the girls of the estate, Anner 'Lizer was, without 
 dispute conceded to be the belle. Her black eyes were like 
 glowing coals in their sparkling brightness: her teeth were 
 like twin rows of pearls shining ivories ; her brown skin was 
 as smooth and soft as silk. 
 
 Was it any wonder, then that Sam Merritt strapping, big 
 Sam, than whom there was not a more popular man on the 
 estate — should pay devoted court to her ? And so, natur- 
 ally, people began to connect their names, and the rumor 
 went forth, as rumours will, that the two were engaged. 
 But when did the course of true love ever run smooth? 
 
 There was never a time but there were some rocks in its 
 channel around which the little stream had to glide o rover 
 which it had to bound and bubble; and thus it was with 
 the loves of our young friends. But in this case the crystal 
 stream seemed destined neither to bound over nor glide by 
 the obstacle in its path, but rather to let its merry course be 
 checked thereby. It may at first, seem a strange thing to 
 say but it was nevertheless true, that the whole sweep and 
 torrent of the trouble had rise in the great religious revival 
 that was being enthusiastically carried on at the little 
 Baptist meeting-house. There was no more regular attend- 
 ant at these meetings, than Anner 'Lizer. The weirdness 
 of the scene and the touch of mysticism in the services 
 though, of course, she did not analyse it thus — reached 
 her emotional nature and stirred her being to its depths. 
 Night after night found her in her pew, her large eyes follow- 
 ing the minister, seemed to look through him to the regions 
 he was describing — the harp-ringing heaven of bliss, or 
 the fire-filled home of the damned. 
 
 48 
 
ENTFRTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Now Sam, on the other hand, could not be induced to 
 attend these meetings; and when his fellow-servants were at 
 the little church praying, singing, and shouting, he was to 
 be found sitting in one corner of his cabin picking his banjo 
 or scouring the woods, carrying axe and taper, and, with a 
 dog trotting atfhis heels hunting for that venison of the negro 
 palate — coon. 
 
 Of course, this utter irreverence on the part of her lover 
 shocked Anner 'Lizer; but she let Sam go his way with 
 reluctance while she went to church unattended. But she 
 thought of Sam and when she secretly prayed to get reli- 
 gion she added a prayer that she might retain him. He, 
 the rogue* was a pronounced sceptic, and day by day the 
 breach between them widened until the span that connected 
 their hearts snapped asunder on the night Anner 'Lizer 
 went to the mourner's bench. She had not gone to church 
 with that intention; But that night when the preacher had 
 said in his softest tones, "Now come, won't you sinnahs ? 
 Won' t you tek de chance o'becomin j'int 'ars o'dat beautiful 
 city whar de streets is gol' an' de gates is pearl," she lost 
 herself and going forward she dropped at the altar amid 
 cries of "Bless de Lawd, one mo' recruit fu' de Gospel 
 ahmy." The conquest of Anner 'Lizer was an event of great 
 moment and called forth a deal of discussion among the 
 brothers and sisters. Aunt Hannah remarked to Aunt 
 Maria over the back of the seat that she "Nevah knowed 
 de gal was unner c'nviction." 
 
 And Aunt Maria answered solemnly, "You know, sistah, 
 de Lawd wuks in a myste'ious wa,y his wondahs to u' fo'm," 
 Meanwhile the hymn went on, and above it rose the voice 
 of the minister: We want all de Christuns in de house to 
 draw up aroun' de altah, whar de fiah is bu'nin; you know 
 in de wintah time when hit's col' you crowds up clost to de 
 fiahplace; so now ef you wants to git spi'tually wa'am, you 
 mus' be up whar de fiah is." There was a great scrambling 
 and shuffling of feet as the members rose with one accord 
 to crowd, singing, around the altar. Two of the rude 
 benches had been placed end to end before the pulpit, so 
 
 49 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 that they, extended nearly the full width of the little church; 
 and at these knelt a dozen or more mourners, swaying and 
 writhing under the burden of their sins. The song being 
 ended, the preacher said: 
 
 "Brer Adams, please tek up de cross," Then Brer Adams 
 a white-haired patriarch, knelt and "took up the cross." 
 He prayed "Lawd 'come down dis evenin' in Spirit's 
 powah to seek an' to save — ah; oh, Lawd convert mou'nahs 
 an' convict' sinnahs — ah — show em dat dey mus' die an' 
 caint lib an atter death to judg-a-ment; tu'n em aroun' 
 befo' it is evahlastin' an' eternally too late." By this time 
 every one was worked up to high state of excitement, and 
 the prayer came to an end amid great commotion. Then a 
 rich mellow voice led out with: 
 
 Sabe de mou'nah jes 'now, 
 Sabe de mou'nah jes 'now, 
 Sabe de mou'nah jes 'now, 
 Only trust Him jes' now, 
 Only trust Him jes 'now, 
 He'p de sinnah jes' now." 
 and so to indefinite length the mournful minor melody ran 
 along like a sad brook flowing through autumn woods 
 trying to laugh and ripple through tears. 
 
 Every now and then some mourner would spring half up, 
 with a shriek, and then sink down again trembling and 
 jerking spasmodically. 
 
 "He's a doubtin ; he's a-doubtin' ! the cry would fly around; 
 "but I tell you he purt' nigh had it that time." 
 
 Finally the slender form of Anner 'Lizer began to sway 
 backward and forward like a sapling in the wind, and she 
 began to mourn and weep aloud. "Praise de Lawd!" 
 shouted Aunt Hannah, "De po' soul's gettin de evidence: 
 Keep on, honey, de Lawd aint fa' off — " 
 
 Let us bow down fu' a season of silent praar," said the min- 
 ister The silence that ensued was continually broken by the 
 wavering wail of the mourners. One by one the mourners 
 left the bench, on which figuratively speaking, they may be 
 said to have laid down their sins and proclaimed themselves 
 
 50 
 
ENTERTAINED AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 possessors of religion, until finally there was but one left, 
 and that one — Anner 'Lizer. She had ceased from her 
 violent activity, and seemed perfectly passive now. The 
 efforts of all were soon consentrated on her, but Anner' Lizer 
 was immovable with her face lying against the hard bench, 
 she moaned and prayed softly to herself. The congregation 
 redoubled its exertions, but all, to no effect, Anner 'Lizer 
 wouldn't "come thoo." 
 
 It was a strange case. 
 
 Aunt Maria whispered to her bosom friend: 
 
 You min' me, Sistah Hannah, deres' sump'n' on dat gal's 
 min." And Aunt Hannah answered: "I believe you." 
 Josephine or Phiny a former belle, whom Anner Lizer's 
 superior charms had deposed, could not lose this opportunity 
 to have a fling at her successful rival. Of course such cases 
 of vindictiveness in women are rare, and Phiny was ex- 
 ceptional when she whispered to her fellow -servant Lucy: 
 "I reckon she'd git 'ligion if Sam Me'itt was heah to see 
 her. "Lucy snickered, as in duty bound, and whispered 
 back : "I wish'd you'd heish" — But the time came for closing 
 the meeting and Anner 'Lizer had not yet made a profession. 
 
 She was lifted tenderly up from the mourner's bench by 
 a couple of sisters, and after exhortation to "Pray constantly 
 thoo de day, an' thoo de night, in de highways an' de by- 
 ways an' in yo secret closet", she went home praying in her 
 soul, leaving the rest of the congregation to loiter along 
 the way and gossip over the night's events. 
 
 51 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 ANNER 'LIZER 'S STUMBLING BLOCK. 
 PART II. 
 
 All the next day Anner Lizer, erstwhile so cheerful, went 
 about her work sad and silent ; every now and then stopping 
 in the midst of her labors and burying her face in her neat 
 white apron to sob violently. It was true, as Aunt Hannah 
 expressed, that "de spirit had sholy tuk holt of dat gal wid 
 a powahful han'". 
 
 All of her fellow-servants knew that she was a mourner, 
 and with that characteristic reverence for religion which is 
 common to all their race, they respected her feelings. 
 Phiny, alone, when she met her, tossed her head and gig- 
 gled openly. But Phiny's actions never troubled Anner 
 'Lizer, for she felt herself so far above her. Once though, 
 in the course of the day, she had been somewhat disturbed 
 when she had suddenly come upon her rival, standing in 
 the spring-house talking and laughing with Sam. She 
 noticed too, with a pang, that Phiny had tried a bow of red 
 ribbon on her hair. She shut her lips and only prayed the 
 harder. But an hour later, somehow, a ribbon as red as 
 Phiny's had miraculously attached itself to her thick black 
 plaits. Was the temporal creeping in with the spiritual in 
 Anner Lizer's mind ? Who can tell ? Perhaps she thought 
 that, while cultivating the one, she need not utterly neglect 
 the other; and who says but that she was right? Uncle 
 Eben, however did not take this view of the matter when he 
 came hobbling up in the afternoon to exhort her a little. 
 He found Anner Lizer in the kitchen washing dishes. En- 
 grossed in the contemplation of her spiritual state, or pray- 
 ing for deliverance from the same, through the whole day 
 she had gone about without speaking to anyone. But with 
 Uncle Eben it was, of course, different; for he was a man 
 held in high respect by all the negroes and, next to the mi- 
 nister, the greatest oracle in those parts; so Anner Lizer 
 spoke to him. 
 
 "Howdy, Uncle' Eben" she said in a lugubrious tone, as 
 
 52 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 the old man hobbled in and settled down in a convenient 
 corner. 
 
 "Howdy, honey, howdy," he replied crossing one leg 
 over the other, as he unwound his long bandana, placed 
 it in his hat, and then deposited his heavy cane on the white 
 floor. "I jes' thought I'd drop in to ax you how do you do 
 to-day?" 
 
 'To' enough Unci' Eben, fu' shoo." Aint foun' no res' 
 fu' yo' soul yit?" 
 
 "No res' yit," answered Anner Lizer, again applying the 
 apron to her already swollen eyes. 
 
 "Um-m" sighed the old man, meditatively tapping his 
 foot; and then the gay flash of Anner Lizer 's ribbon caught 
 his eye and he gasped: "Bless de Lawd, Sis' Lizer; you 
 don't mean to tell me dat you's gwin' bout heah seekin' 
 wid yo' har tied up in ribbon ? Whut? Tek it off, honey, 
 tek it off; ef yo' wants yo soul saved, tek it off!" 
 
 Anner 'Lizer hesitated, and raised her eyes in momentary 
 protest; but they met the horrified gaze of the old man, and 
 she lowered them again as her hand went reluctantly up 
 to her head to remove the offending bit of finery. 
 
 "You see, honey," Uncle Eben went on, when you 
 sta'ts out in de Christian jou'ney, you's got to lay aside 
 evry weight dat doeth so easy beset you an' keeps you 
 f'on pergressin;' y'aint got to think nothin 'bout pussunal 
 'dornment; you's jes' got to shet yo' eyes an' open yo' hea't 
 an' say, Lawd, come; you mustn't wait fu' to go to chu'ch 
 to pray, nuther, you mus' pray anywhar an' ev'rywhar Why, 
 when I was seek'in, I ust to go' 'way off up in de big woods 
 to pray an dere's whur de Lawd answered' me, an' I'm a 
 rejoicin' to-day in de powah of de same salvation. Honey, 
 you's got to pray, I tell you. You's got to brek de back- 
 bone of yo' pride an' pray in earnes'; an' ef you does dat, 
 you'll git he'p, fur de Lawd is a praar-heahin Lawd an 
 plentious in mussy." 
 
 Anner 'Lizer listened attentively to the exhortation, and 
 evidently profited by it; for soon after Uncle Eben' depart- 
 ure she changed her natty little dress for one less pretentious, 
 
 53 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 and her dainty frilled white muslin apron gave way to a 
 broad dark calico one. If grace was to be found by self- 
 abnegation in the matter of dress, Anner 'Lizer was bound 
 to have it at any price. 
 
 As afternoon waned and night came on, she grew more 
 and more serious, and more frequent recourse was had to 
 the corner of her apron. She even failed to see Phiny when 
 that enterprising young person passed her, decked out in 
 the whitest of white cuffs and collars, setting off in pleasant 
 contrast her neat dark dress. Phiny giggled again and put 
 up her hand, ostensibly to brush some imaginary dust from 
 her bosom, but really to show her pretty white cuffs with 
 their big bone buttons. But it was all lost on Anner 
 9 Lizer; her gaze was downcast and her thoughts faraway. 
 If any one was ever "seekin"' in earnest, this girl was. 
 
 Night came, and with it the usual services. Anner 
 'Lizer was one of the earliest of the congregation to arrive, 
 and she went immediately to the mourner's bench. In the 
 language of the congregation, "Eldah Johnsing sholy did 
 preach a powahful sermon" that night. More sinners were 
 convicted and brought to their knees, and as before, these 
 recruits were converted and Anner 'Lizer left. What was the 
 matter? That was the question which every one asked, 
 but there was none found who could answer it. The cir- 
 cumstance was all the more astounding from the fact that 
 this unsuccessful mourner had not been a very wicked 
 girl. Indeed it was to have been expected that she might 
 shake her sins from her shoulders as she would discard a 
 mantle, and step over on the Lord's side, But it was not so' 
 But when a third night came and passed with the same 
 result it became the talk of theee plantations. To be sure 
 cases were not lacking where people had "mourned" a 
 week, two weeks, or even a month; but they were woful 
 sinners and those were times of less spiritual interest; but 
 under circumstances so favorable as were now presented, 
 that one could long refrain from gittin' religion was the 
 wonder of all. 
 So, after the third night, everybody wondered and tal- 
 
 54 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 ked, and not a few began to lean to Phiny's explanation, 
 that "de ole snek in de grass had be'n a-goin' on doin' all 
 her dev'ment on de sly so's people wouldn't know it. but 
 de Lawd he did, an' he payin' her up fo' it now," Sam Mer- 
 ritt alone did not talk, and seemed perfectly indifferent to 
 all that was said, when he was in Phiny's company and 
 she rallied him about the actions of his "gal" he remained 
 silent. 
 
 On the fourth night of Anner 'Lizer's mourning, the con- 
 gregation gathered as usual at the church. For the first 
 half -hour all went on as usual, and the fact that Anner 
 Lizer was absent caused no remark, for every one thought 
 she would come in later. But time passed and she did not 
 come. "Eldah Johnsing's" flock became agitated. Of 
 course there were other mourners, but the one particular 
 one was absent; hence the dissatif action. Every head in 
 the house was turned toward the door, whenever it was 
 opened hy some late comer, and around flew the whisper, 
 I wunner ef she's quit mournin ; you ain't heerd of her gittiV 
 ligion, have you?" No one had. 
 
 Meanwhile the object of their solicitude was praying 
 'just the same, but in a far different place. Grasping as she 
 was, at everything that seemed to give her promise of relief, 
 somehow Uncle Eben's words had had a deep effect upon 
 her So when night fell and her work was over, she had gone 
 up into the woods to pray. She had prayed long without 
 success, and now she was crying aloud from the very ful- 
 ness of her heart; O Lawd, sen' de light — sen' de light!" 
 
 Suddenly, as if in answer to her prayer a light appeared 
 before her, some distance away. The sudden attainment 
 of one's desires often shocks one, so with our mourner. 
 For a moment her heart stood still and the thought came to 
 her to flee ; but her mind flashed back over the words of one 
 of the hymns she had heard down at church, "Let us walk 
 in de light;" and she knew that before she walked in the 
 light she must walk toward it. So she rose and started in 
 the direction of the light. How it flickered and flared, dis- 
 appeared and reappeared, rose and fell, even as her spirits, 
 
 55 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 as she stumbled and groped her way over fallen logs and 
 through briers. Her limbs were bruised and her dress 
 torn hy the thorns. But she headed it not, she had fixed her 
 eye, physical and spiritual on the light before her. It drew 
 her with an irresistible fascination. Suddenly she stopped. 
 An idea had occured to her! Maybe this light was a Jack- 
 o'-lantern! For a moment she hesitated, then promptly 
 turned her pocket inside out, murmuring, "De Lawd'll 
 tek keer o' me." On she started; but lo! the light had 
 disappeared! What! had the turning of the pocket worked 
 so potent a charm. 
 
 But no! it reappeared as she got beyond the intervention 
 of a brush pile which had obscured it. The light grew 
 brighter as she grew fainter; but she clasped her hands and 
 raised her eyes in unwavering faith, for she found that the 
 beacon did not recede, but glowed with a steady and sta- 
 tionary flame. 
 
 As she drew near, the sound of sharp strokes came to her 
 ears, and she wondered. Then, as she slipped into the 
 narrow circle of light, she saw that it was made by a taper 
 which was set on a log. The strokes came from a man who 
 was chopping down a tree in which a coon seemed to have 
 taken refuge. It needed no second glance at the stalwart 
 shoulders to tell her that the man was — Sam Her step 
 attracted his attention, and he turned. 
 
 "Sam!" 
 
 "Anner 'Lizer!" 
 
 And then they both stood still, too amazed to speak. 
 Finally she walked across to where he was standing, and 
 said "Sam I didn't come out heah to fin' you, but de Lawd 
 has 'p'inted it so, ca'se he knowed I orter speak to you." 
 Sam learned hopelessly on his axe; he thought she was going 
 to exhort him, Anner 'Lizer went on "Sam, you's my 
 stumblin' block in de highroad to salvation, I'se bin tryin 
 to git ligion, fu fou nights, an' I caint do it jes' on yo' 'count: 
 I prays an I prays, an jes' as I's a'mos' got it, jes, as I begin 
 to heah de cha'iot wheels a-rollin' yo' face comes right in 
 'tween an' drives it all away. Tell me, now, Sam, so's to 
 
 56 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 put me out ov my 'spense, does you want to ma'y me, er is 
 you goin' to ma'y Phiny ? I jes' wants you to tell me, not 
 dat I keers pussonally, but so's my min' kin be at res' 
 spi'tu'lly, an' I kin git 'ligion. Jes' say yes er no; I wants 
 to be settled one way er t' orther." 
 
 "Anner 'Lizer," said Sam reproachfully, "you know I 
 wants to ma'y you jes' ez soon ez Ma's Rob'll let me." 
 
 "Dere now" said Anner 'Lizer, "bless de Lawd!" And. 
 somehow, Sam had dropped the axe and was holding her 
 in his arms. 
 
 It boots not whether the 'coon was caught that night or 
 not, but it is a fact that Anner 'Lizer set the whole place 
 afire by getting religion at home early the next morning. 
 And the same night the minister announced "dat de Lawd 
 had foun' out de sistuh's stumblin' block an' removed it 
 f'om de path." 
 
 HOW TO ASK AND HAVE. 
 
 "Oh, 'tis time I should talk to your mother 
 
 Sweet Mary," says I; 
 "Oh don't talk to my mother" says Mary 
 
 Beginning to cry, 
 "For my mother says men are deceivers, 
 
 And never, I know, will consent; 
 She says girls in a hurry who marry 
 
 At leisure repent." 
 
 "Then suppose I would talk to your father, 
 
 Sweet Mary," says I; 
 "Oh, don't talk to my father," says Mary 
 
 Beginning to cry, 
 "For my father, he loves me so dearly, 
 
 He'll never consent I should go; 
 If you talk to my father," says Mary, 
 
 "He'll surely say 'no' ". 
 
 57 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "Then how shall I get you my jewel ?, 
 
 Sweet Mary," says I; 
 "If your father and mother's so cruel, 
 
 Most surely I'll die!" 
 "Oh, never say die dear," says Mary, 
 
 "A way now to save you I see; 
 Since my parents are both so contrary 
 
 You'd better ask me." 
 
 Samuel Lover 
 
 HERSELF AND MYSELF. 
 P. J. McCall. 
 
 'Twas beyond at Macreddin, at Owen Doyle's weddin', 
 
 The boys got the pair of us out for a reel, 
 
 Says I: 'Boys excuse us," Says they,' "Don't refuse us;" 
 
 "I'll play nice and aisy, says Larry O' Neill." 
 
 So off we went trippin' it, up and down steppin' it — 
 
 Herself and Myself on the back of the doore 
 
 Till Molly — God bless her! fell into the dresser, 
 
 An I tumbled over a child on the floore. 
 
 Says Herself to Myself :"We're as good as the best o' them!" 
 Says Myself to Herself: "Shure, we're betther than gold!" 
 Says Herself to Myself: "We're as young as the rest o'them," 
 Says Myself to Herself: "Troth, we'll never grow old'" 
 
 As down the lane goin, I felt my heart growin', 
 
 As young as it was forty-five years ago, 
 
 Twas here in this bo'reen I first kissed my stoireen 
 
 A sweet little colleen with skin like the snow. 
 
 I looked at my woman, a song she was hummin' 
 
 As old as the hills, so I gave her a pogue ; 
 
 'Twas like our old courtin,' half sarious, half sportin'. 
 
 When Molly was young, an' when hoops were in vogue. 
 
 58 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 When she'd say to Myself: "You can coort with the best o 
 
 them," 
 When I'd say to Herself: "Shure, I'm betther than gold," 
 When she'd say to Myself: "You're as wild as the resto' 
 
 them," 
 And I'd say to Herself: "Troth I'm time enough old." 
 
 WAIT 'TILL TO-MORROW 
 Philip B. Strong. 
 
 Ere you speak the word of blame, 
 
 Ere you punish deed by deed, 
 That you neither sin nor sorrow 
 
 Give this simple sentence heed, 
 "Wait 'till to-morrow." 
 
 When wild impulse stirs the soul, 
 
 Stay! my motto's merit prove, 
 Counsel from it freely borrow; 
 
 Would you well and wisely move, 
 "Wait 'till to-morrow." 
 
 Times there are at once to act, 
 
 Nor a moment to defer; 
 Yet more oft both sin and sorrow 
 
 Haste doth work; I still aver — 
 "Waif till to-morrow." 
 
 MY TRUST. 
 
 A picture memory brings to me; 
 I look across the years and see 
 Myself beside my mother's knee. 
 
 I feel her gentle hand restrain 
 
 My selfish moods, and know again 
 
 A child's blind sense of wrong and pain. 
 
 59 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 But wiser now, a man gray grown, 
 
 My childhood's needs are better known, 
 
 My mother's chastening love I own. 
 
 Gray grown, but in our Father's sight 
 A child still groping for the light 
 To read his words and ways aright. 
 
 I wait, in His good time to see 
 That as my mother dealt with me 
 So with His children dealeth He. 
 
 I bow myself beneath His hand ; 
 That pain itself was wisely planned 
 I feel and partly understand. 
 
 The joy that comes in sorrow's guise, 
 The sweet pains of self-sacrifice, 
 I would not have them otherwise. 
 
 And what were life and death if sin 
 Knew not the dread rebuke within, 
 The pang of merciful discipline? 
 
 Not with thy proud despair of old, 
 Crowned stoic of Rome's noblest mold, 
 Pleasure and pain alike I hold. 
 
 I suffer with no vain pretence 
 Of triumph over flesh and sense, 
 Yet trust the grievous providence; 
 
 How dark soe'er it seems, may tend, 
 By ways I cannot comprehend, 
 To some unguessed benignant end; 
 
 That every loss and lapse may gain 
 The clear-aired heights by steps of pain, 
 And never cross is borne in vain. 
 
 J. G. WHITTIER 
 
 60 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 LOVES PERPLEXITY. 
 T. H. Farnham. 
 
 They grew in beauty, like two flowers: 
 
 One as a lily fair, 
 The other radiant as the rose 
 
 That breathes the summer air. 
 
 Maria's was the statelier form, 
 
 Blanche's the sweeter face; 
 Maria wore a queenly air, 
 
 And Blanche a simple grace. 
 
 Although Maria's shape surpassed 
 
 All forms I e'er had seen, 
 Her sister Blanche at times possessed 
 
 The more bewitching mien. 
 
 Maria's eyes were lustrous black, 
 
 But Blanche's eyes of blue 
 Reflected in their liquid depths 
 
 The tints of heaven's own hue. 
 
 And then Maria's voice excelled 
 
 That of a prima donna 
 In her own art, such gifts of song 
 
 Had nature lavished on her. 
 
 While Blanche's skilful touch displayed 
 
 Such marvelous command, 
 You thought the key-board felt the thrill 
 
 Of Paderewski's hand. 
 
 I fairly worshipped Blanche — but then 
 
 I equally adored 
 Maria; — to which one of these 
 
 Should I my choice accord? 
 
 61 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Such paragons of excellence! — ■ 
 
 I could but sigh and say, 
 "How happy could I be with one, 
 
 Were the other but away!" 
 
 Embarras de richesse, indeed, 
 
 With either for a bride ! — 
 Strive as I would, I still remained 
 
 Unable to decide. 
 
 But while I pondered, sore distressed, 
 In dire perplexity, 
 As if from such a woeful plight 
 To kindly set me free, 
 
 A fate propitious gave to each 
 
 A more decided lover: — 
 An English lord bore off the one, 
 
 A German count the other. 
 
 THE STORY OF A GARDEN. 
 
 "Nature, as far as in her lies, 
 
 imitates God." tennyson 
 
 There is a garden that is not like the other gardens round 
 about. In many of these gardens the flowers are only pris- 
 oners, forced to weave carpets on the changeless turf, and 
 when the eye is sated and the impression fails, they become 
 to their owners, who have no part in them, merely purchased 
 episodes. 
 
 This garden that I know has a bit of green, a space of 
 flowers, and a stretch of wildness, as Bacon says a 
 garden should always have. At its birth the twelve months 
 each gave to it a gift, that it might always yield an offering 
 to the year, and presently it grew so lovable that there came 
 to it a soul. 
 
 The song-sparrow knows that this is so; the mottled owl 
 
 62 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 that lives in the hollow sassafras has told it to the night- 
 hawk, Catbirds and robins, routed from other gardens by 
 fusillades, still their quick throbbing hearts, feeling its pro- 
 tection. The coward crow alone knows its exclusion, for he 
 was unhoused from the tall pines and banished for fratricide. 
 The purling bluebird, claiming the pole-top house as an an- 
 cestral bequest, repeats the story every springtime. 
 
 The oriole and swallow whisper of it in their southward 
 course, and, returning, bring with them willing colonists. 
 The rock polypody creeps along in confidence, with no 
 ruthless hand to strip it off, and the first hepatica opens its 
 eyes in safety, for tongues of flame or the grub-axe have 
 not crippled it during the winter. Once the petted garden 
 beauties looked askance, from their smooth beds in the tilled 
 corner, and drew their skirts away from the wild-wood 
 company, but now, each receiving according to its need, 
 they live in perfect concord. The wild rose in the chinky 
 wall peeps shyly at her glowing sisters, and the goldenrod 
 bows over it to gossip with the pentstemon. And this is 
 how it came to be, for the garden was no haphazard acci- 
 dent. Nature began it, and, following her master-touch, 
 the hand and brain of a man, impelled by a reverent pur- 
 pose, evolved its shaping. 
 
 This man, even when a little boy, had felt the potency of 
 Nature's touch to sooth the heartache. One day, led by an 
 older mate, he trudged a weary way to see a robber hanged. 
 The child, not realizing the scene he was to witness, 
 was shocked to nervous frenzy, and a pitying bystander, 
 thinking to divert his mind, gave him a shilling. 
 
 Spying a bird pedlar in the crowd, he bought a goldfinch 
 and a pint of seeds, and the horror of the hanging was quite 
 forgotten and effaced by the little bird, his first possession. 
 
 To it he gave his confidence and told all his small griefs 
 and joys, and through the bird Nature laid her warm hand 
 on his heart and gently drew it toward their mutual Master, 
 and never after did he forget her consolation. 
 
 All this was more than seventy years ago. When the boy 
 grew to manhood, following the student life, the spirit of 
 
 63 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 the bird that had blotted out the scene of civil murder was 
 still with him. Its song kept his thoughts single and led him 
 toward green fields, that their breath might leaven lifeless 
 things, strengthening the heart that felt a world weariness, 
 as all must feel at times when facing human limitations. 
 
 MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT 
 
 WAR. 
 By Alfred J. Waterhouse. 
 
 Strike from the lives of mortals the things that they hold 
 
 most dear, 
 The pressure and cling of kisses, the heart of the daylight': 
 
 cheer. 
 
 Over the fleshy portals where souls in solitude wait, 
 
 Write, as ye oft have written, the screed of a deadly hate. 
 
 Scorch with the breath of anger the blossoms of love and 
 
 peace, 
 Till blessing is turned to cursing that never may know 
 
 surcease. 
 
 Die as the soulless perish, nor know what ye perish for, 
 For ye are the victims offered to the red, red god of war. 
 
 O'er fields where the daisies nodded let a gory river flow; 
 Lift to the arching heavens your voice of a deathless woe. 
 
 Press to your aching bosom, kiss with a sobbing breath, 
 The one whom your love has cherished, for, lo! he shall 
 sleep with Death. 
 
 Give — for the price is written — the one whom ye held 
 
 most dear; 
 Give, though ye know not wherefore; give, with a scalding 
 
 tear. 
 
 64 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 For the god of war drives earthward, and red is his regal car ; 
 And ye and yours are his chosen, and his victims, too, ye are. 
 
 Masters who rule the nations, kings on your lifted thrones, 
 Know ye the ones who perish ? Hear ye the cries and moans ? 
 
 Straight past the guarded portals, doth never a long-drawn 
 
 m sigh 
 Strike to your hearts with pleading for those who for you 
 must die? 
 
 Dying to build your greatness, victims of greed and vice, 
 Where was the structure builded that ever was worth such 
 price ? 
 
 Masters who rule the nations, kings of exalted ways, 
 Build as ye will, but surely such structure a God shall raze. 
 
 THE KNEELING CAMEL. 
 
 The camel at the close of day 
 
 Kneels down upon the sandy plain 
 
 To let his master lift his load 
 And rest to gain. 
 
 So thou, my soul shouldst to thy knees 
 
 When daylight draweth to a close, 
 And let thy master lift thy load 
 
 And grant repose. 
 
 Else how canst thou to-morrow meet 
 
 With all to-morrow's work to do 
 If thou thy burden thru the night 
 
 Dost carry through. 
 
 The camel kneels at morning's dawn 
 
 To let his guide replace his load; 
 Then rises up, anew 
 
 To take the dusty road. 
 
 65 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 So thou, shouldst kneel at morning's dawn 
 That God may give thee daily care, 
 
 Assured that He no load too great 
 Will make thee bear. 
 
 Anna Temple. 
 
 THE ASTER AND THE GOLDENROD. 
 
 Eugene Shurtleff. 
 I saw the purple aster nod, 
 Beside the graceful golden-rod, 
 Where o'er the moutain side they grew 
 And shared the sunshine and the dew. 
 I asked the breeze that swept the heather, 
 Why grow these flowers so near together. 
 The breeze with gentle voice replied: 
 ' 'Why bless you, they are groom and bride." 
 
 SEEING THINGS OUTDOORS. 
 
 S. C. SCHMUCKER. 
 
 Every ray of the sun that falls on the ocean warms the air 
 above it and makes it drink more water; every wind that 
 blows brings new and thirsty air to drain from the same 
 source. 
 
 So it comes that as much water runs out of the sea as 
 runs into it. But it came in as visible rivers, carrying min- 
 eral matter; it passes out as invisible vapor, and carries with 
 it practically nothing. The minerals stay behind, and in 
 the course of long ages, have made the water of the sea what 
 it is. 
 
 The waves of the ocean are its salvation. If it were not 
 for them it would be uninhabitable. Life in the water 
 needs its supply of air as well as life on the land, and if 
 there were no waves the sea would be stagnant. Somewhere 
 out in the open ocean the wind blows slantingly down the 
 water, and a gentle swell arises. Catching back of the 
 raised portion the wind pushes the wave higher and higher, 
 as it passes toward the shore. 
 
 It is the wave that passes, not the water; the motion not 
 
 66 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 the material. Just as from the centre of a great crowd excite- 
 ment may pass to the edge without any person changing 
 his location, so a wave may pass and the water be left 
 just where it was. This seems at first sight hard to 
 realize, but we have all at some time stood where we 
 could see great waves pass over a field of grain as the 
 wind blew across it. We all know that the grain is just 
 where it was when the wave started. Each head moved 
 forward and back over and over again. So in the waves 
 of water the individual drops move chiefly up and down, 
 though there is a little forward movement followed by an 
 exactly equal amount of backward movement, so that when 
 the wave has passed each drop of water is just where it was 
 when it started. As the wave nears the shore the character 
 of its motion changes. Finding less and less water in 
 front of it to which to give up its excitement, it presses on as 
 if in search of more and the wave runs up the sand. 
 
 As the water climbs the beach its shape changes entirely 
 Out in the open ocean the wave had a gentle slope both 
 front and back. 
 
 But as it moves in toward the shore the front gets into 
 shallow water first and is retarded. 
 
 So the back pushes on and the front gets higher and 
 steeper until the face of it first becomes vertical and then 
 topples over its crest a boiling mass, frothy with the bub- 
 bles that it entangles as it falls. So the swell of the open 
 ocean becomes the breaker of the coast. 
 
 As the wave runs down the beach again it meets its 
 successor and, striking it fair in the face, stops its course and 
 with it runs down to break the next. These three then 
 check the fourth, By this time perhaps they have gone 
 back their full distance, where they join their fifth friend, 
 and together the whole party runs far up the beach. Just 
 at which interval the long wave shall come depends upon the 
 direction and force of the wind. Sometimes every fourth 
 wave takes the long run. Sometimes it is every fifth or 
 sixth one. I think I have never counted it longer than 
 every, seventh. 
 
 67 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 LISTEN! 
 Frederick Abbott. 
 
 Did you ever listen, brother, to the music of the rill, 
 As it sang in happy cadence dancing gaily down the hill? 
 Did you ever stop a moment just to catch its little song? 
 If you haven't you have missed it: stop when next you go 
 along. 
 
 Have you never heard the tender little ballads of the rain, 
 As it sang them, playing softly on the shingle and the pane ? 
 Did you never hear the chorus as they joined in mighty 
 
 shower? 
 If you haven't listen for it when again the rain doth pour. 
 
 Have you never heard the music as you strolled beneath 
 the trees, 
 
 Grander far than mighty Handel with his glorious har- 
 monies ? 
 
 Did you never hear the love-long of the forest to his bride ? 
 
 If you haven't stop and listen when next you chance to ride. 
 
 Have you never heard the soft diminuendo in the grain, 
 When the breezes played upon it autumn's light and happy 
 
 strain ? 
 Have you never thrilled with pleasure, as you stood amidst 
 
 the corn, 
 And heard its sweet bravuras on a clear September morn ? 
 
 Did you never think to listen to the diapason grand, 
 When the Storm King sang in thunder, as he swept across 
 
 the land? 
 Have you never caught the throbbing of his mighty angry 
 
 soul 
 As he struck his harp electric, Have you never heard its 
 
 roll? 
 
 68 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Have you never paused to listen to the music of the spheres ? 
 Such soul stirring strains of melody ne'er greeted mortal 
 
 ears, 
 When Orion with Arcturas and sweet Luna and old 
 
 Sol, 
 Head the choruses of Heaven and the angels prostrate fall. 
 
 Have you never listened, brother, for the music deep and 
 
 grand, 
 That is swelling all around you on the water and the land ? 
 Have you never caught the music that the little zephyrs 
 
 play? 
 As they make of you their spinnet, when they meet you 
 
 day by day. 
 
 Let me tell you, O, my brother, if you haven't learned to 
 
 hear, 
 All the music that is swelling daily round you year by year. 
 If you haven't caught the melodies that nature plays and 
 
 sings, 
 You are missing all the music of Jehovah, King of Kings. 
 
 All this music, O, my brother, O, my sister, is for you, 
 Will you not then listen for it, as your journey you pursue ? 
 It will fill your life with sunshine, it will banish pain and 
 
 care, 
 If you only catch the music, that is swelling everywhere. 
 
 GIVING AND TAKING. 
 
 Who gives and hides the giving, 
 Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise, 
 Shall find his smallest gift outweighs 
 The burden of the sea and land. 
 
 Who gives to whom hath naught been given, 
 His gift in need, though small indeed. 
 As is the grass-blade's wind-blown seed, 
 Is large as earth and rich as heaven. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Forget it not, O man, to whom 
 \[ A gift shall fall, while yet on earth; 
 Yes, even to thy seven-fold birth 
 Recall it in the lives to come. 
 
 Who broods above a wrong in thought 
 Sins much; but greater sin is his 
 Who, fed and clothed with kindness, 
 Shall count the holy alms as naught. 
 
 Who dares to curse the hands that bless 
 Shall know of sin the deadliest cost; 
 The patience of the heavens is lost; 
 Beholding man's unthankfulness. 
 
 For he who breaks all laws may still 
 In Sivam's mercy be forgiven; 
 But none can save, in earth or heaven, 
 The wretch who answers good with ill. 
 
 "I have attempted to put in English verse a prose translation 
 of a poem by Finnevaluva, a Hindoo poet of the third century 
 of our era." J. G. Whittier. 
 
 THE LION-MAKERS. 
 
 In a certain place there dwelt four Brahman youths in 
 the greatest friendship. Three of them had got to the 
 further shore of the ocean of science, but were devoid of 
 common sense ; while the fourth had common sense only, and 
 no mind for science. Now once upon a time these friends 
 took counsel together, and said, "Of what profit is science, 
 if we cannot go with it to some foreign country and win the 
 favor of princes and make our fortune ? Therefore to the 
 Eastern country let us go." And so it came to pass. Now 
 after they had gone a little way, the eldest spoke: "There 
 is one among us, the fourth, who has no learning, but only 
 
 70 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 common-sense ; and a man can't get presents from kings by 
 common-sense without learning. Not a whit will I give him 
 of all that I gain; so let him go home." And the second 
 said, "Ho there, Gumption! get you homeward, for you 
 have no learning!" But the third made answer, "Alas it is 
 not fitting so to do; for we have played together since we 
 were boys. So let him come along too. He's a noble 
 fellow, and shall have a share in the riches that we win." 
 
 On then they went together, till in a jungle they saw the 
 bones of a dead lion. Then spoke the first: Ha! now we 
 can put our book-learning to the test. Here lies some sort 
 of a dead creature: by the power of our learning we'll bring 
 it to life. I'll put the bones together. And that then he did 
 with zeal. The second added flesh, blood, and hide. 
 But just as the third was breathing the breath of life into 
 it, Gumption stopped him and said, "Hold: this is a lion 
 that you are turning out. If you make him alive, he will 
 kill every one of us." Thereupon made answer the other, 
 "Fie, stupid! is learning to be fruitless in my hands?" "Well 
 then," said Gumption "just wait a bit till I climb a tree." 
 
 Thereupon the lion was brought to life. But the instant 
 this was done, he sprang up and killed the three. After- 
 wards Gumption climbed down and went home. 
 
 Book-learning people rightly cherish; 
 
 But gumption's best of all to me. 
 Bereft of gumption you shall perish 
 Like to the Lion makers three. 
 
 From Pilpay's Fables. 
 
 A CONQUEROR. 
 Pauline R. Stayner. 
 
 A castle there is, all grim and gray, 
 Surrounded by high stone walls; 
 
 And many a knight 
 Waged bitter fight 
 
 To enter its lordly halls. 
 
 71 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 But fast and firm were the massive gates. 
 
 'Gainst all who would through them win; 
 While the old stone pile 
 
 Seemed with scorn to smile 
 At each failure to enter in. 
 
 Then came a day when a maiden sweet 
 
 Crept up and did patiently wait; 
 No bar could withstand 
 
 The touch of her hand 
 And wide flew the frowning gate. 
 
 No more the walls echo with sounds of the fray, 
 
 No more comes the clash of strife; 
 There's the voice of song—, 
 
 For that castle strong 
 Was my heart, and the maid is my wife. 
 
 "CONJUHATIONS." 
 By Victor A. Hermann. 
 
 One night gran 'mammy cum to us 
 
 When we'd all gone to bed; 
 "Yu deh lie still, doan' maike no fuss. 
 
 Deh's lights in de Noff," she sed. 
 Ah crept fum de quilts, ah peeped fro' de pane, 
 
 Mah knees dey shook en shook; 
 Foh deh weh lights in de sky es plain 
 
 Es owls in de ol' dream-book. 
 " Gran 'mam,' gran'mam'!" we called fum bed, 
 "What maiks dem lights?" En gran'mam' sed. 
 "Conjuhations, chile, conjuhations." 
 
 72 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Las' night when we went foh de steehs, 
 
 We all got los' in de woods; 
 En de strangest soun's came to our eahs, 
 
 De trees wohe long gray hoods. 
 Blue lights glowed down in de sof ' swamp mud, 
 
 Big eyes blinked up in de pine ; 
 De moon rolled up lak a cup ob blood, 
 
 En we lef ' dem steehs behin'. 
 "Gran'mam', gran 'mam'!" we sed nex' day, 
 
 "What's in de swamp ?" En den she'd say, 
 "Conjuhations, chile, conjuhations." 
 
 Somtimes when we're all sittin' still 
 
 By de arch wheh de bac'lawg glows, 
 We feel so strange en den a chill 
 
 Shakes us fum haid to toes. 
 De ol' hearth-cat sticks up her bac' 
 
 En rolls her great green eyes; 
 De chaihs en tables staht to crac' 
 
 En de pine flo' seems to rise. 
 "Gran'mam', gran'mam'!" we say in a bref, 
 
 "What's det skeehed us mos' to deff ?" 
 "Conjuhations, chile, conjuhations." 
 
 One day when we went down to de spring 
 
 To fetch de mawnin' pail, 
 We foun' de tip ob a blac' owl's wing 
 
 Run fro' wid a rusty nail. 
 A lizahd-skin, en de foot ob a mole, 
 
 En dey'd been in de spring all night; 
 We pulled dem out wid a cypress pole, 
 
 Den run wid all our might. 
 
 "Gran'mam', gran'mam'!" we cried in dread, 
 
 "What's in de spring?" En gran'mam' sed, 
 "Conjuhations, chile, conjuhations." 
 
 73 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 HAND SHAKING. 
 
 Sydney Smith. 
 
 On meeting a young lady who had just entered the garden, 
 and shaking hands with her, "I must" he said "give you a 
 lesson in shaking hands, I see. There is nothing more 
 characteristic than shaking hand, I have classfied 
 them. Lister, when he was here, illustrated some of them. 
 Ask Mrs. Sydney to show you his sketches of them when 
 you go in. There is the high official, — the body erect, 
 and a rapid, short shake near the chin. There is the mort- 
 main, — the flat hand introduced into your palm, and 
 hardly conscious of its contiguity. The digital — one 
 finger held out, much used by the high clergy. — There 
 is the shakus rusticus, where your hand is seized in an 
 iron grasp, betokening rude health, warm heart, and dis- 
 tance from the metropolis ; but producing a strong sense of 
 relief on your part when you find your hand released and 
 your fingers unbroken. The next to this is the retentive 
 shake, — one which beginning with vigor, pauses as it were 
 to take breath, but without relinquishing its prey, and be- 
 fore you are aware begins again, till you feel anxious as to 
 the result, and have no shake left in you. There are other 
 varieties but this is enough for one lesson. — " 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 Julia Ward Howe. 
 
 On primal rocks she wrote her name, 
 Her towers were reared on holy graves, 
 
 The golden seed that bore her came 
 
 Swift-winged with prayers o'er ocean waves. 
 
 The Forest bowed his solemn crest 
 And open flung his sylvan doors; 
 
 Meek Rivers led the appointed Guest 
 To clasp the wide-embracing shores; 
 
 74 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Till, fold by fold, the broidered Land 
 To swell her virgin vestments grew, 
 
 While Sages, strong in heart and hand. 
 Her virtues' fiery girdle drew. 
 
 O Exile of the wrath of Kings! 
 
 O Pilgrim Ark of Liberty! 
 The refuge of divinest things 
 
 Their record must abide in thee. 
 
 First in the glories of thy front 
 Let the crown jewel Truth be found, 
 
 Thy right hand fling with generous wont 
 Love's happy chain to furthest bound. 
 
 Let Justice with the faultless scales 
 Hold fast the worship of thy sons, 
 
 Thy commerce spread her shining sails 
 Where no dark tide of rapine runs. 
 
 So link thy ways to those of God, 
 So follow firm the Heavenly laws, 
 
 That stars may greet thee, warrior-browed 
 And storm -sped angels hail thy cause. 
 
 O Land, the measure of our prayers, 
 Hope of the world, in grief and wrong! 
 
 Be thine the blessing of the years, 
 The gift of faith, the crown of song. 
 
 OLD GLORY. 
 Fred Emerson Brooks. 
 
 Let others boast of clique or clan, 
 
 There is no prouder boast of man 
 Than this: "I am American!" — 
 
 The nation great in story — , 
 Where one can rise from any grade, 
 
 And few are warriors by trade, 
 But all are soldiers ready made, 
 
 To fight for dear Old Glory 
 
 75 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 How proud I am 
 
 Of Uncle Sam: 
 
 He's known throughout creation, 
 
 As ruler of 
 
 The land I love. 
 This grand and mighty nation. 
 What though I brag 
 About the flag 
 She well deserves renown: 
 
 No enemy 
 
 On land or sea 
 Has ever pulled her down. 
 
 And when our eagle soaring high, 
 
 Trails that loved banner through the sky, 
 
 The nation hears her battle cry — 
 
 That grand old eagle, hoary — 
 
 From North and South, from either shore, 
 
 Brave thousands gather thousands more; 
 
 From peerless fleets great cannon roar 
 
 Defenders of Old Glory. 
 
 No despots rule, no tyrants rise 
 Where Liberty's great banner flies 
 And soars, that monarch of the skies — 
 Our grand old eagle, hoary. 
 Where rich and poor together cling, 
 And fight for Justice, while they sing 
 Of Freedom; there's no conquering 
 The sons of dear Old Glory. 
 
 Each star a nation grand and free, 
 Each stripe a bond of liberty; 
 Where'er it floats, on land or sea, 
 It tells the self -same story — : 
 No hand shall wield oppression's rod 
 Where Progress' gleaming feet have trod, 
 Where Justice rules with Freedom's God 
 Defending dear Old Glory. 
 
 76 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THE THREE VASES. . 
 
 Said the Vase from Tokio, 
 "I'm so costly as you know 
 That I hope to see myself 
 Soon on some collectors' shelf 
 Ticketed and marked with care: 
 'Do not handle; very rare' 
 
 .} )> 
 
 Said the little Urn from Greece, 
 "I am no museum piece, 
 Yet my figure knocks askew 
 Such a twisted thing as you. 
 Grace and Beauty line on line 
 Pave my way to fame divine." 
 
 Said the Jar from Ispahan, 
 "Years I boast, a wondrous span, 
 And the bard hath made of me 
 Songs for all eternity. 
 Cease your chatter, lumps of clay, 
 Only I outlive to-day." 
 
 Said the maid, from Dublin hired, 
 "Faith, this dustin' makes me tired; 
 Smash,ye haythin out o'shape, 
 Smash,ye ugly furrin' ape." 
 In the ash heap, hid from sight, 
 All the vases lay that night. 
 
 THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART. 
 
 Thomas Chandler Haliburton. 
 
 As we approached the Inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker 
 grew uneasy. "It 's pretty well on in the evening, I guess," 
 said he, "and marm Pugwash isasonsartininhertemperas a 
 mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or all clounds with her, and 
 if she's in one of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck 
 
 77 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 and hiss, like a goose with a flock of goslins. I wonder what 
 on arth Pugwasb was a ihinkin on when he signed articles 
 of partnership with that are woman; She's not a bad-looking 
 piece of furniture neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever 
 woman should carry such a stiff upper lip — she reminds me 
 of our old minister Joshua Hopewell's apple trees. The 
 old minister had an orchard of most particular good fruit 
 for he was a great hand at buddin" graftin' and what not, 
 and the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) 
 stretched right up to the road. Well, there were some trees 
 hung over the fence: I never seed such bearers, the apples 
 hung in ropes for all the world like strings of onions, and the 
 fruit was beautiful. 
 
 "Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks 
 lost their'n from the boys, his'n always hung there like bait 
 to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at 'em. 
 So I said to him one day, 'Minister, said I, 'how on airth 
 do you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when 
 no one else can't do it nohow?' 'Why,' says he, 'they are 
 dreadful pretty fruit, aintthey?' T guess, said I," 'there ain't 
 the like on em in all Connecticut,' 'Well,' says he 'I'll tell 
 you the secret, but you needn't let on to no one about it. 
 That are row next the fence, I grafted it myself, I took great 
 pains to get the right kind, I sent clean up to Roxberry and 
 away down to Squawneck Creek.' I was af eared he was 
 going to give me day and date for every graft being a terrible 
 long-winded man in his stories; so says I, T know that, 
 Minister, but how do you preserve them?' 'Why, I was 
 a going to tell you; said he, 'when you stopped me. That 
 are outward row I grafted myself with the choicest kind 
 I could find, and I suceeded. They are beautiful, but so 
 etarnal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys 
 think the old minister's grafting has all succeeded about as 
 well as that row, and they sarch no farther. They snicker 
 at my grafting, and I laugh in my sleeve, I guess, at their 
 penetration.' Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's 
 apples, very tempting fruit to look at, but desperate sour. 
 However if she goes to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of soft 
 
 78 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 sawder, that will take the frown out of her frontispiece, and 
 make her dial plate as smooth as a lick of copal varnish. 
 But here we are, 
 
 "Good evening, marm," said Mr. Slick, "how do you do and 
 how's Mr. Pugwash ?" "He," said she, "why he's been abed 
 this hour, you don't expect to disturb him this time of night, 
 I hope." "Oh no," said Mr. Slick, "certainly not, and I 
 am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got detained longer 
 than we expected; I am sorry that — " "So am I," said she, 
 "but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an Inn when he has no occa- 
 sion to, his family can't expect no rest." Here the Clock- 
 maker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly 
 and staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed, 
 "Well, if that ain't a beautiful child — come here, my little 
 man, and shake hands along with me. Well I declare, if that 
 are little feller ain't the finest child I ever seed — what, not 
 abed yet ? Ah, you rogue, where did you get them are pretty 
 rosy cheeks; stole them from mamma, eh? Lord, that are 
 little feller would be a show in our country — come to me, 
 my man." Here the "soft sawder" began to operate. Mrs. 
 Pugwash said in a milder tone than we had yet heard: "Go, 
 my dear, to the gentleman — go, dear." Mr. Slick kissed 
 him — . "Black eyes — let me see — ah, mamma's eyes too, 
 and black hair also, as I am alive, why you are mamma's 
 own boy, the very image of mamma." Do be seated, gentle- 
 men," said Mrs. Pugwash. 
 
 "Sally, make a fire in the next room. I am sure you have 
 had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to me; "you must be 
 hungry and weary, too. I will get you a cup of tea." "I am 
 sorry to give you so much trouble," said I. "Not the least 
 trouble in the world," she replied; "on the contrary, a 
 pleasure. ' ' We were then shown into the next room, where the 
 fire was now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not 
 proceed without the little boy, and lingered hehind to ascer- 
 tain his age, and concluded by asking the child if he had any 
 aunts that looked like mamma. 
 
 As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't 
 go well in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to git 
 
 79 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 them to start arter that there is no trouble with them if you 
 don't check 'em too short. If you do they'll stop again, run 
 back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself could'nt 
 start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the natur 
 of the critter; she'll never go kind in harness for him." 
 "You seem" said I, "to understand the female heart so well, 
 I make no doubt you are a general favorite among the fair 
 sex." "Any man," he replied, that understands horses, has 
 a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women, for they are 
 jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same 
 treatment: Incouragethe timid ones, be gentle and steady 
 with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes." 
 
 THE ART OF THE THEATRE. 
 
 Julia Marlowe. 
 
 It has been suggested to me that to talk to college students 
 about what method of procedure should be adopted by 
 persons aspiring to a stage career, is rather beside the mark; 
 because, colleges make no provision for the teaching of 
 stage aspirants. I cannot feel that the subject is an in- 
 appropriate one for this audience; for the aim of a college 
 is to educate. And nowhere more than in the theatre are 
 those things which are the results of education, — namely, 
 the knowledge of literature and history, an appreciation of 
 those things of which history and literature have been made, 
 and a reverence for those great ones who have made them — 
 more necessary and more potent than in the theatre. I do 
 not mean by this to say that all college graduates should 
 go on the stage; but rather that all stage aspirants would 
 do well to go to college. 
 
 It has been said that the art of the theatre is made up of 
 all other arts. I myself have never known a successful 
 actor who did not have a rare knowledge and a very complete 
 appreciation not only of acting but also of all others art. 
 For example, he must have a knowledge of sculpture, not 
 only of the history of sculpture but of the technical principles 
 
 80 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 which govern the sculptor himself. In order to look like 
 one of the early Greeks, one must not only know how the 
 sculptures of Phidias and Praxiteles looked; one must know 
 how to make one's self look like that thing which they re- 
 presented, namely, — a perfectly controlled and poised 
 human body. 
 
 Then, an actor must know painting, — not only what 
 pictures are masterpieces, but why; in order that he may 
 effectively choose his costumes and scenery, and so produce 
 on the stage a beautiful harmony of color. 
 
 He must know history, in order that he may avoid making 
 the mistake of attiring Lady Macbeth in the hoopskirts of 
 Marie Antoinnette, as did the famous Mrs. Barry; or 
 Macbeth, the primitive warrior of the heath, in a flowered 
 brocaded waistcoat and a red velvet coat, with gold lace 
 and buttons, as David Garrick did. 
 
 Above all is a knowledge of the fundamentals of literature 
 indispensable. 
 
 When this has been acquired, an actor has only what 
 an every-day architect would call the steel construction of 
 his house. This steel construction must be and may be ac- 
 quired. What cannot be acquired is that nameless some- 
 thing for which almost everyone has a different definition, 
 which stage aspirants usually call temperament, and upon 
 which laymen like to dwell. Call it temperament if you will 
 — that ability to disengage one's self, to feel in such a highly 
 sympathetic degree the character one is attempting to portray 
 that it appears to the spectator, though never to one's self, 
 that one really is that character. 
 
 I have often had people say to me, "You do not look 
 as if you were acting; you seem really to be the character 
 you are assuming." 
 
 The aim and the end of acting is just precisely this — 
 to seem really to be the character one is only assuming. 
 
 They go on to say, "You weep real tears!" 
 
 Real tears! How they do interest those persons in the 
 audience who are young! Real tears are produced in 
 various ways in the theatre; sometimes one is more relaxed 
 
 8] 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 than at other times, and the tears come easily. One actor 
 of whom I heard looked at the calcium, because the strong 
 light brought the tears into his eyes. Another carried an 
 onion in his handkerchief; and another, unable to produce 
 any real tears by any device whatever, held in his hand his 
 snuff box, which he had filled with vaseline. When seem- 
 ingly taking snuff, he put the vaseline on his cheeks, while 
 the audience went into transports over the extreme reality 
 of his emotionalism. 
 
 When a beginner on the stage, I first acted Juliet, I be- 
 lieved myself to be more successful on the nights I wept 
 real tears most profusely; until I was told by several wise 
 persons upon whose judgement I relied that this was not 
 the case. I knew then that the attention of the spectators 
 had sometimes been taken up with the real tears of Julia 
 Marlowe that they forgot about Juliet and the tears she 
 wept. 
 
 I have learned that my part when I play Juliet is not to 
 weep myself, but to make the audience weep 
 
 An actor of whom I heard was very much commended 
 because when, during a scene in the play, his role required 
 that he be struck on the cheek with a glove, his face be- 
 came suffused with blood. This was immagined to be an 
 expression of genius; as a mutter of fact, it was nothing 
 but a trick — the actor held his breath. That the audience 
 noticed the actual color of his face at all is to, my mind, 
 not particularly in his favor. By his whole betrayal of the 
 part, not by any fragmentary mechanical device, should he 
 so have absorbed the spectators that the color of his face 
 became a matter of insignificance. 
 
 I have often been asked if in "As You Like It," when 
 Orlando's bloody napkin is shown to Rosalind, and accord- 
 ing to the text, she turns pale, I powder my face. I 
 have never done this, partly for the reason that though I 
 do at that point turn my back to the audience, I do it for 
 so very brief a moment that I have no opportunity to powd- 
 er my face. But I believe that it is not really necessary. I 
 feel that if during this scene of the play I act Rosalind 
 
 82 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 skilfully enough, the idea of her pallor will so take its 
 place in the minds of the spectators that they will not con- 
 cern themselves too much with the actual color of my face. 
 The ability to do this proceeds from that indefinable 
 something — call it temperament if you will — which, though 
 he must have much else, an actor, to be an an actor, 
 must have first and most. 
 
 Scarcely a week passes that I do not receive dozens, even 
 hundreds, of letters from young people, who tell me that they 
 wish to act and who ask me to advise them as to how they 
 shall begin. Almost invariably the writers of these letters 
 confide to me that they have temperament; very, very seldom 
 do any of them say that they are taking courses in singing, 
 in gymnastics, and above all, in dramatic literature. It 
 would interest me much more were they to say that they were 
 doing any of these things; not because they are more im- 
 portant or as important as the possession of temperament, 
 but because it does not often happen that any person is 
 endowed with that rare and unique gift which we call tem- 
 perament. We have all observed that those persons who 
 say they have a sense of humor never really have it. Its 
 very presence would prevent their dwelling upon it. This 
 holds quite as true of persons who have temperament. 
 Almost never does anyone who thinks he has it really possess 
 it. To be sure, most people do think they have it. How 
 many, I wonder, in my audience today, think they have not ? 
 But the lack of a great gift for acting does not, and perhaps 
 it is just as well that it does not, keep persons who wish to 
 act from going on the stage. A play is like a community; 
 there are large parts and there are small parts to be acted 
 in it. There is a place in it for the greatest genius and there 
 is a place in it too for the humblest beginner, who may be, 
 but who must be careful not to suppose himself to be, a 
 great genius in embryo. In "Hamlet," for example, 
 some one must act Hamlet; but also, some one must act 
 Bernardo. There is not only the first grave-digger, there is 
 the second grave-digger. All these must be fittingly re- 
 presented. 
 
 S3 
 
 HHB^H^^h^hhm 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 We hear sometimes protests against what is known as 
 "star" system, "Why," demand these questioners, "in 
 Shakespearian plays especially do we see one star, or two 
 stars, and no more? One star or two stars who by 
 their superior proficiency emphasize the limitations of 
 those persons in the company who are not stars and there- 
 by throw the performance out of balance." It is sad that 
 this condition of affairs must exist, but how can it be a- 
 voided, especially in Shakespearian representations? As 
 Doctor Rolfe once said, Shakespeare wrote parts that 
 only stars can play, meaning by that the elect in the 
 theatrical profession. 
 
 He also wrote parts that stars cannot play — successfully, 
 that is to say. Once in New York, in a benefit perform- 
 ance of Hamlet, given for a famous actor, a number of 
 well-known stars offered to appear as the ladies and gentle- 
 men of the Court of Denmark. They did appear to the 
 actual injury of the performance. So pronounced were 
 their personalities, and so accustomed were they to allow 
 their personalities to be felt that they were unable to subor- 
 dinate themselves sufficiently to act the pans of members 
 of an obeyant group. In spite of themselves they took the 
 attention of the audience from what was happening at the 
 Court of Denmark to the retinue of the court who were 
 watching it happen. 
 
 Shakespeare wrote star parts ; and in Shakespear's time 
 there were actors with gifts of such a high order that they 
 were worthy of being called by the modern term, "stars." 
 Does anyone suppose that at any time on the stage, there 
 have not been stars. Will anyone attempt tc prove that 
 when Roscius was an actor in Rome, there were no stars 
 in the eternal City? Surely in the days of Sophocles and 
 Euripides there were, as now, great actors, and good, bad 
 and indifferent actors, too. The role, for example, of 
 Medea was certainly not intrusted to a person of the same 
 quality as one of the many who made up the chorus. In 
 all the arts and in all the professions there have been stars. 
 Shelly was a star, and so were Leonardo da Vinci and 
 
 84 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Michael Angelo ; — Abraham Lincoln and Napoleon, 
 were stars. Shakespeare was a star, perhaps, according to 
 contemporaneous reports, not as an actor, but certainly at 
 his own particular business. And Homer and Dante, are 
 they not stars? Why should it be thought that in the art 
 of the drama alone there should be no stars ? 
 
 All those other persons in a play who are not, and who 
 are never likely to be, stars — what of them ? They must 
 above all, be professional. By this, I mean that acting 
 must be to them the chief business of life ; the work they have 
 chosen to do. They must, with all their powers, first devote 
 themselves to learning how to do it, and then to doing it in 
 as perfect a way as possible; whether their gifts assign to 
 them such roles as Juliet, Lady Macbeth and Rosalind, 
 Hamlet, King Lear and Othello; or the roles of the pages 
 who stand and wait upon these others. 
 
 You, I know, devote a certain amount of your time to 
 producing plays, and acting in them ; to giving what are 
 called amateur performances. Why amateur? Because, 
 whatever the future may determine, your present serious 
 occupation is not the producing and the acting of plays. 
 Mr. William Dean Howells has said that he prefers ama- 
 teur perpormances to those of professionals for the very 
 reason that they have not that background of stress and 
 strain which makes professional perfermances professional. 
 I am told that there are University professors, whose views 
 coincide with this view of Mr. Howells, but, do any of 
 these prefer amateur literature to professional literature ? 
 Do they like a song written by a member of a college glee 
 club better than one of Keat's songs or one of Shelley's, 
 back of which there was such stress and strain as must for- 
 ever be remembered? Real acting, like any other real ar- 
 tistic expression, has its sources in the very deepest springs 
 of life. However it may ripple and sparkle on the surface, 
 underneath it is dark and still, like "the soundless sea" in 
 Kubla Khan; as are all real things. 
 
 I do not mean to deter you from giving amateur per- 
 formances. I only ask you to remember always that they 
 
 85 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 are amateur. Nothing is more pathetic than an amateur 
 posing as a a professional. 
 
 No art is more exacting than dramatic art. There is no 
 life that is harder than that of the actor. Whatever in the 
 course of his career his reward may be, it is smaller than the 
 price he pays for it. And not only must he devote all his 
 time to his work; he must do this under conditions of the 
 most difficult and distressing kind. For nine months of the 
 year he is obliged to be away from his home and his friends, 
 and live on railway trains and in hotels. For the most part, 
 he cannot choose his associates. He must study, and re- 
 hearse, and act with persons who may or may not be con- 
 genial. He is, as it were, living in a family that is not his 
 own, and very often is not even like his own. From this 
 necessary condition of affairs proceed many evils, — the very 
 greatest of which is, perhaps, loneliness. 
 
 Moreover, only the reaching of the very highest point in 
 the theatre can make the many steps in the direction of that 
 point endurable It is an ill thing to be a mediocre author, 
 or a mediocre painter; but nothing is quite so bad as being 
 a mediocre actor. To invest one's youth, and one's hope, 
 and one's enthusiasm; and then to gain anything but the 
 whole prize, — this in the theatre is a tragic fate. How 
 many young persons there are who go upon the stage, and 
 spend their youth, and their hope, and their enthusiasm, only 
 to find that after all, a stage career is not for them ! There 
 is then no place for them in the theatre; and, because the 
 training they have received in the theatre prepares them for 
 nothing but the theatre, there is no place for them anywhere 
 else in the world of endeavor. It is too late to make a new 
 beginning. 
 
 Perhaps what I have just said will discourage those among 
 you who are stage aspirants to such an extent that you will 
 cease to aspire to a career in the theatre. If, however, there 
 are those among you who still are determined to go upon 
 the stage, I can do no better than advise you in the words 
 of Kipling; 
 
 86 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 "Go to your work and be strong, 
 Halting not in your ways, 
 Balking the end half won. 
 For an instant dole of praise. 
 Go to your work and be wise, 
 Certain of sword or pen; 
 Who are neither children or gods, 
 But men in a world of men." 
 
 Lectue delivered at Badelifje College Cambridge, Mass. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THE GOSPEL OF LABOR. 
 
 The legend of Felix is ended, the toiling of Felix is done; 
 The master has paid him his wages, the goal of his journey 
 
 is won; 
 He rests, but he never is idle; a thousand years pass like 
 
 a day, 
 In the glad surprise of that Paradise where work is sweeter 
 
 than play. 
 
 But I think the King of that country comes out from his 
 
 tireless host, 
 And walks in this world of the weary, as if He loved it 
 
 the most; 
 For here in the dusty confusion, with eyes that are heavy 
 
 and dim, 
 He meets again the laboring men who are looking and 
 
 longing for Him. 
 
 He cancels the curse of Eden, and brings them a blessing 
 
 instead; 
 Blessed are they that labor, for Jesus partakes of their 
 
 bread, 
 He puts His hand to their burdens, He enters their homes 
 
 at night; 
 Who does his best shall have as a guest the Master of life 
 
 and of light. 
 
 And courage will come with His presence and patience 
 
 return at His touch; 
 And manifold sins be forgiven to those who love Him much; 
 And the cries of envy and anger will change to the songs 
 
 of cheer, 
 For the toiling age will forget its rage when the Prince of 
 
 Peace draws near. 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 This is the gospel of labor — ring it, ye bells of the Kirk — 
 The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with 
 
 the men who work, 
 This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-cursed 
 
 soil — 
 Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth 
 
 is toil. 
 
 Henry Van Dyke. 
 
 A COLLECT FOR THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 Edwin Markham. 
 
 I thank Thee, Father, for this sky, 
 Wherein Thy little sparrows fly; 
 For unseen hands that build and break 
 The cloud-pavilions for my sake. — 
 This fleeting beauty, high and wild, 
 Toward which I wander, as a child. 
 
 I thank Thee for the strengthening hills, 
 That give bright spirit to the rills; 
 For blue peaks soaring up apart, 
 To send down music on the heart; 
 For tree-tops wavering soft and high, 
 Writing their peace against the sky; 
 For forest farings that have been; 
 For this fall rain that shuts me in, 
 Giving to my low little roof 
 The sense of home, secure, aloof. 
 
 And thanks for morning's stir and light 
 And for the folding hush of night; 
 For those high deities that spread 
 The star-filled chasm overhead; 
 For elfin chemistries that yield 
 
 89 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 The green fires of the April field; 
 For all the foam and surge of bloom ; 
 For leaves gone glorious to their doom.- 
 All the wild loveliness that can 
 Touch the immortal in a man. 
 
 Father of Life, I thank Thee, too, 
 For old acquaintance, near and true,— 
 For friends who came into my day 
 And took the loneliness away; 
 For faith that held on to the last; 
 For all sweet memories of the past, — 
 Dear memories of my dead that send 
 Long thoughts of life, and of life's end,- 
 That make me know the light conceals 
 A deeper world than it reveals. 
 
 GRANDFATHER'S WISH. 
 J. C. Briggs. 
 
 When buds first swell upon the trees, 
 When I first hear the hum of bees, 
 When brooks are filled by frequent rain, 
 I would I were a boy again. 
 
 When willows by the brookside sprout, 
 When all the boys go after trout, 
 When robins sing on hill and plain, 
 I would I were a boy again. 
 
 When days begin to warmer grow, 
 When moist south winds begin to blow 
 When flowers are blooming in the lane, 
 I would I were a boy again. 
 
 90 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 A BIT OF GOOD LUCK. 
 Henry Van Dyke. 
 
 May 4, 1898. To-day, fishing down the swift water. I 
 found Joseph Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the 
 brook, casting the fly for trout. He said he had fished this 
 very stream three and forty years ago. 
 
 Leaf from my diary. 
 
 We met on Nature's stage, 
 
 And May had set the scene, 
 With bishop caps standing in delicate ranks 
 
 And violets blossoming over the banks, 
 While the brook ran full between. 
 
 The waters rang your call 
 
 With frolicsome waves a-rwinkle, 
 They'd known you as a boy, and they knew you as man, 
 
 And every wave, as it merrily r».n, 
 Cried, "Enter Rip Van Winkle." 
 
 VIRTUES OF THE LOWER ANIMALS. 
 
 What is there in us that we do not see in the operations 
 of animals? The swallows that we see at the return of 
 the spring, searching all the corners of our houses for the 
 most commodious places wherein to build their nest; 
 do they seek without judgment, and amongst a thousand 
 choose out the most proper for their purpose, without dis- 
 cretion? Why does the spider make her web tighter in 
 one place, and slacker in another, why now make one sort 
 of knot and then another, if she has not deliberation, thought 
 and conclusion. We sufficiently discover in most of their 
 works how much animals excel us, and how unable our art 
 is to imitate them. Take the fox, the people of Thrace 
 make use of when they wish to pass over the ice of some 
 frozen river, and turn him out before them to that purpose ; 
 when we see him lay his ear upon the bank of the river, 
 
 91 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 down to the ice to listen if from a more remote or nearer 
 distance he can hear the noise of the waters current, and, 
 according as he finds by that the ice to be of a less or greater 
 thickness, to retire or advance, — have we not reason to 
 believe thence that the same rational thoughts passed through 
 his head that we should have upon the like occasions; and 
 that it is a ratiocination and consequence, drawn from natural 
 sense that, that which makes a noise runs, that which runs 
 is not frozen, what is not frozen is liquid and that which is 
 liquid yields to impression ? 
 
 The oxen that served in the royal gardens of Susa, to 
 water them and turn certain great wheels to draw water 
 for that purpose, to which buckets were fastened being 
 ordered every one to draw a hundred turns a day, they were 
 so accustomed to this number that it was impossible by 
 any force to make them draw one turn more but their 
 task being performed, they would suddenly stop and stand 
 still. The keeper of an elephant in a private house of Syria 
 robbed him every meal of the half of his allowance. One 
 day his master would himself feed him, and poured the 
 full measure of barley he had ordered for his allowance 
 into his manger; at which the elephant casting an angry 
 look at his keeper, with his trunk separated the one half 
 from the other, and thrust it aside, by that declaring the 
 wrong was done him. As to fidelity there is no animal in 
 the world so treacherous as man. As to magnanimity, it 
 will be hard to exhibit a better instance of it than in the 
 example of the great dog sent to Alexander the Great 
 from the Indies. They first brought him a stag to encounter, 
 next a boar, and after that a bear, all which he slighted, 
 and disdained to stir from his place ; but when he saw a lion 
 he then immediately roused himself, evidently manifest- 
 ing that he declared that alone worthy to enter the lists with. 
 Touching repentance and the acknowledgment of faults 
 is reported of an elephant that having in the impetuosity 
 of his rage killed his keeper, he fell into so extreme a sorrow 
 that he would never after eat but starved himself to death. 
 And as to clemency, 'tis said of a tiger, the most cruel of 
 
 92 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 all beasts that a kid having been put in to him, he suffered 
 a two day's hunger rather than hurt it, and the third broke 
 the grate he was shut up in, to seek elsewhere for prey; 
 so unwilling he was to fall upon the kid his familiar and his 
 guest. And as to the laws of familiarity and agreement, 
 formed by conversation, it ordinarily happens that we bring 
 up cats, dogs, and hares, tame together. 
 
 Montaigne's Essays. 
 
 TO BLANCO. 
 Timothy Titcomb. 
 
 I trust you as you trust the stars, 
 
 Nor cruel loss nor scoff of pride 
 Nor beggary nor prison bars 
 
 Can move you from my side. 
 
 Ah Blanco! — did I worship God 
 
 As truly as you worship me 
 Or follow where my Master trod 
 
 With your humility. 
 
 Did I sit fondly at his feet 
 
 As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine 
 And watch him with a love as sweet 
 
 My life would grow divine. 
 
 VANITIES. 
 A NEW ARRIVAL. 
 
 Here, gossip, stay a moment, wait! 
 You see that damsel, near the gate 
 Attired in habit, plum and sober, 
 In hues of russet, brown and slate, 
 That's Miss October. 
 
 93 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 She wears a muddy-weather skirt, 
 I'ts full ten inches from the dirt; 
 And round the hem, faced up with leather, 
 While in her cap two gems engirt 
 A falcon's feather. 
 
 Across the gate and down the park 
 She glances ; now her eyes seem dark, 
 Now blue, now grey, the pretty traitors 
 Talking of gates! do you remark 
 Her doeskin gaiters? 
 
 Ah! mistress, you're a dainty girl; 
 What if your lip may sometimes curl, 
 Your coquetry can never bore me; 
 Not though into the wind you whirl 
 Tears, sad and stormy. 
 
 For though you make me cold at night 
 And leave the trees in naked plight, — 
 You do, you merciless disrober 
 You stimulate my appetite 
 Crisp Miss Ostober. 
 
 OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT COVERS ME. 
 William Ernest henley. 
 
 Out of the night that covers me, 
 Black as the pit from Pole to Pole, 
 
 I thank whatever gods may be 
 For my unconquerable soul. 
 
 In the full clutch of circumstance 
 I have not winced nor cried aloud, 
 
 Under the bludgeonings of chance 
 My head is bloody but unbowed. 
 
 94 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
 Looms but the Horror of the shade, 
 
 And yet the menace of the years 
 Finds and shall find me unafraid. 
 
 It matters not how strait the gate, 
 How charged with punishments the scroll; 
 
 I am the master of my fate; 
 I am the captain of my soul. 
 
 ANTOINE LOUIS BARYE. 
 
 His wife dared not tell him Corot was dead and that 
 another, the power of whose pictures he felt even more- 
 namely, Millet, was dangerously ill. It was now too late. 
 One day in June, 1875, there was a quiet bustling to 
 and fro in a small plain house on the Quai des Celest- 
 ins. Men in dress-coats with serious faces, forming a 
 kind of deputation and followed by others in black frocks 
 with the ribbons of the Legion of Honor in the button 
 hole, entered the courtyard. Students who affected some 
 garb of Bohemia and students foppish in dress rubbed 
 elbows with workmen in blouses, army officers, foreigners 
 interested in art, and staid friends of the family. The 
 householder and father, a master second to no other of 
 his generation, lay in his coffin surrounded by many of 
 the smaller works of art he had created. The dress- 
 coats were present officially; they represented the School 
 of the Fine Arts. The decorations and the uniforms 
 were there to grace the last ceremonies of a member of 
 the Legion of Honor. The art-students and foreigners 
 came from reverence or curiosity. The blouses testified 
 to the popular esteem for a man whose triumphs in art 
 reflected were on that great lower middle class of France 
 from which he sprang. For Antoine Louis Barye was 
 not rich ever, and was not noble in the hereditary sense, 
 but when he died, he had attained to pretty much every- 
 thing except fortune which seems to a modest and hon- 
 orable ambition worth the struggle. When the ceremon- 
 
 95 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 ies at the house were done and the popular high artists 
 of the day, such as M. M. Carolus Duran and Meisson- 
 ier, had, with ardent gesticulations, extolled the beauty 
 of the statuettes about the rooms after their generous 
 wont; when with its military escort the train of mourners 
 and friends left the courtyard behind the bier, then the 
 worth of the man and artist in the estimate of the rough 
 people appeared. Moving through a quarter where 
 workshops and forges and factories of all kinds are plenty 
 workmen still sweaty from their labor came to join the 
 procession or to greet it, to make more motley but still 
 more impressive the funeral of a person who was known 
 to be modesty itself. No man in all Paris could cast 
 bronze as he could; no foreman of a foundry but could 
 take lessons of Barye in the elements of foundry-work. 
 No one ever heard him belittle other artists or try to 
 push himself; many could recall generous words of praise 
 that came with doubled force from a man so quiet, so 
 reserved, so silent. And here was a man of peace ac- 
 companied to his grave with military honors ; a republican 
 proceeding in pomp Here he was, a member of that 
 true democracy of the arts which does not deny to men 
 the spiritual glories of an aristocracy provided they have 
 shown their right to preeminence, accorded a funeral that 
 a prince might envy. Here was a man who had seen 
 in his atelier the highest Princes of France, and the last 
 King; who had been favored by an emperor and snub- 
 bed by envious bureaucrats, regretted and reverently fol- 
 lowed by the most irreverent and leveling populace in the 
 world. 
 
 From The Century*" 
 
 96 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 Friendship, like love is but a name, 
 Unless to one you stint the flame. 
 The child whom many fathers share 
 Hath seldom known a father's care. 
 'Tis thus in friendships; who depend 
 On many, rarely find a friend. 
 
 A Hare, who in a civil way 
 Complied with everything, like Gay, 
 Was known by all the bestial train 
 Who haunt the wood or graze the plain, 
 Her care was, never to offend; 
 And every creature was her friend. 
 
 As forth she went at early dawn 
 To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn 
 Behind she hears the hunter's cries, 
 And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies, — 
 She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; 
 She hears the near advance of death; 
 She doubles to mislead the hound, 
 And measures back her mazy round; 
 Till fainting in the public way, 
 Half dead with fear, she gasping lay. 
 
 What transport in her bosom grew, 
 When first the horse appeared in view, 
 "Let me" says she, "your back ascend, 
 And owe my safety to a friend, 
 You know my feet betray my flight 
 To friendship every burden's light." 
 
 The Horse replied: — "Poor honest Puss, 
 It grieves my heart to see thee thus ; 
 Be comforted, relief is near; 
 For all your friends are in the rear." 
 
 97 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 The Goat remarked her pulse was high, 
 Her languid head, her heavy eye ; 
 "My back," says he, "may do you harm; 
 The sheep's at hand; and wool is warm." 
 
 The sheep was feeble, and complained, 
 His sides a load of wool sustained. 
 Said he was slow, confessed his fears ; 
 For hounds eat Sheep, as well as Hares; 
 
 She now the trotting Calf addressed, 
 To save from death a friend distressed, 
 "Shall I," says he, "of tender age, 
 In this important care engage ? 
 Older and abler passed you by; 
 How strong are those! how weak am I!" 
 
 "Should I presume to bear you hence, 
 Those friends of mine may take offence, 
 Excuse me then. You know my heart; 
 But dearest friends, alas! must part, 
 How shall we all lament! Adieu! 
 For see, the hounds are just in view." 
 John Gay. 
 
 DEPENDING UPON OTHERS. 
 
 MRS. S. C. HALL. 
 
 "Independence" is the word, of all others, that Irish- 
 men, women, and children least understand; and the calm- 
 ness, or rather indifference, with which they submit to de- 
 pendence, bitter and miserable as it is, must be a source 
 of deep regret to all "who love the land" or who feel 
 anxious to uphold the dignity of human kind, 
 
 Let me select a few cases from our Irish village, such as 
 are abundant in every neighborhood. Shane Thurlough, 
 "as dacent a boy" and Shane's wife, "as clane skinned a 
 girl," as any in the world, 
 
 98 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 There is Shane, an active handsome looking fellow, lean- 
 ing over the half-door of his cottage, kicking a hole in the 
 wall with his brogue, and picking up all the large gravel 
 within his reach to pelt the ducks with, — those useful Irish 
 scavengers. Let us speak to him. 
 "Good morrow Shane!" 
 
 "Och! the bright bames of heaven on ye every day! and 
 kindly welcome, my lady; and won't ye step in and rest? 
 — its powerful hot, and a beautiful summer, sure, the Lord 
 be praised!" 
 
 "Thank you, Shane, I thought you were going to cut the 
 hayfield to-day; if a heavy shower comes it will be spoiled; 
 it has been fit for the scythe these last two days." 
 
 "Sure its all owing to that thief o' the world, Tom Farrel, 
 my lady. Didn't he promise me the loan of his scythe ? 
 and, by the same token, I was to pay him for it; and de- 
 pinding on that, I didn't buy one which I have been threat- 
 ening to do for the last two years." 
 "But why don't you go to Carrick and purchase one?" 
 "To Carrick! Och, His a good step to Carrick, and my 
 toes are on the ground saving your presence for I depinded 
 on Tom Javris to tell Andy Cappler, the brogue maker, 
 to do my shoes ; and, bad luck to him, the spalpeen, he 
 forgot it." "Where's your pretty wife, Shane?" 
 
 "She's in all the woe o' the world, ma'am dear, and she 
 puts all the blame of it on me, though I'm not in the fault 
 this time, anyhow. The child's taken the small-pox, and 
 she depinded on me to tell the doctor to cut it for the cow- 
 pox, and I depinded on Kitty Cackle, the limmer, to tell 
 the doctor's own man, and thought she would not forget 
 it, because the boy's her bachelor, but out o' sight, out o* 
 mind. The never a word she tould him about it, and the 
 babby has got it nataral, and the woman's in heart trouble, 
 to say nothing o' myself, and it is the first, and all." 
 
 "I am very sorry, indeed, for you have got a much bet- 
 ter wife than most men." 
 
 "That's a true word, my lady, only she's fidgety-like some- 
 times, and says I don't hit the nail on the head quick 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 enough; and she takes a dale more trouble than she need 
 about many a thing." 
 
 "I do not think I ever saw Ellen's wheel without flax be- 
 fore, Shane." 
 
 "Bad cess to the wheel! I got it this morning about that 
 too. I depinded on John Williams to bring the flax from 
 O' Flaherty's this day week, and he forgot it; and she says 
 I ought to have brought it myself, and I close to the spot. 
 But where's the good? says I; sure he'll bring it next time." 
 
 "I suppose, Shane, you will soon move into the new 
 cottage at Clurn Hill? I passed it to-day and it looked so 
 cheerful; and when you get there, you must take Ellen s 
 advice, and depend solely on yourself." 
 
 "Och, ma'am dear, don't mention it; sure its that 
 makes me so down in the mouth this very minit. Sure 
 I saw that born blackguard, Jack Waddy, and he 
 comes in here quite innocent-like; 'Shane, you've an eye 
 to squire's new lodge, says he.' 'Maybe I have,' says I. 
 I am yer man,' says he, 'How so?' says I. 'Sure I'm as 
 good as married to my lady's maid, says he; and I'll 
 spake to squire for you my own self.' 'The blessing be 
 about you says I,' quite grateful, and we took a strong 
 cup on the strength of it, and depinding on that, I 
 thought all safe. And what dy'e think, my lady? Why, 
 himself stalks into the place, talked the squire over to 
 be sure, and without so much as by yer lave, sates him- 
 self and his new wife on the laase in the house, and I 
 may go whistle." 
 
 "It was a great pity, Shane, that you didn't go your- 
 self to Mr. Clurn." 
 
 "That's a true word for ye ma'am dear; but its hard 
 if a poor man can't have a friend to depind on." 
 Sketches oj Irish. Character, 
 
 100 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM. 
 Phillipps Brooks. 
 
 O little town of Bethlehem, 
 
 How still we see thee lie ! 
 Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 
 
 The silent stars go by, 
 Yet in thy dark streets shineth 
 
 The everlasting Light; 
 The hopes and fears of all the years 
 
 Are met in thee to-night. 
 
 O morning stars, together 
 
 Proclaim the holy birth! 
 And praises sing to God the King, 
 
 And peace to men on earth. 
 For Christ is born of Mary, 
 
 And gathered all above; 
 While mortals sleep the angels keep 
 
 Their watch of wondering love. 
 
 How silently, how silently, 
 
 The wondrous gift is given ! 
 So God imparts to human hearts 
 
 The blessings of His Heaven. 
 No ear may hear his coming, 
 
 But in this world of sin; 
 Where meek souls will receive him still, 
 
 The dear Christ enters in. 
 
 Where children pure and happy 
 
 Pray to the blessed Child, 
 Where misery cries out to thee, 
 
 Son of the Mother mild : 
 Where Charity stands watching, 
 
 And Faith holds wide the door; 
 The dark night wakes; the glory breaks, 
 
 And Christmas comes once more. 
 
 101 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 O holy Child of Bethlehem, 
 
 Descend to us we pray! 
 Cast out our sin and enter in ; 
 
 Be born in us to-day. 
 We hear the Christmas angels 
 
 The great glad tidings tell; 
 O come to us, abide with us, 
 
 Our Lord Emmanuel! 
 
 ARBOR DAY. 
 
 Hard by the western portal now we wait 
 To deck the rugged walls of Golden Gate, 
 That stand athwart the azure ocean old, 
 To frame the picture rare of blue and gold. 
 
 And looking backward toward the crested town, 
 Behold there seems a forest moving down; 
 I cry aloud, like Scotland's ancient thane, 
 Great Birnam's word now comes to Dunsinane! 
 
 Not so? Then have these cauldron witches lied! 
 For those who come march not with martial stride; 
 These boughs hide not a horde of mailed men 
 Whose numbers and whose force ye dinna ken. 
 
 But these are children, garlands in their hand, 
 
 Who now upon the city's highway stand, 
 
 Like those of old who sang Judea's psalms 
 
 And strewed the Lord's highway with fragrant palms; 
 
 And if they would the same Hosannas cry, 
 
 No doubt they'd see the Savior passing by. 
 
 Each little arm enfolds a tiny tree; 
 Pray, children, tell me what your mission be ? 
 Wherefore these shrubs? They may not be for shade; 
 For what, the trowel and the tiny spade ? 
 
 102 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 You children all, I think should be in school; 
 Mayhap you've run away and broke the rule, 
 And come out upon the moor to play, 
 What's that you tell me ? This is Arbor Day ? 
 
 So you are out to worship Nature now, 
 And place a lasting garland on her brow, 
 Eternal wreath, a glory ever more 
 Far better crown than monarch ever bore. 
 
 What music when the little shovels speed 
 To break the earth with most unhallowed greed ! , 
 Look! in a trice those scanty graves are made 
 Whose resurrection is the coming shade. 
 
 A lesson this: Let each one plant his own, 
 And nations spare the trees already grown, 
 How great a good can come from little things — 
 These twigs may be the future forest Kings. 
 
 Dig deep the earth and lay the roots with care, 
 And God will tend what you have planted there, 
 Oft watch its growth and you may ever know 
 How Heaven perfects what man begins below. 
 
 All praise to him who gave this notion birth, 
 They plant a tree to beautify the earth; 
 And there we leave them in their matchless glee, 
 Those laughing children by the laughing sea. 
 
 A BURNS PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 Robert Burns was born January 25, 1759, in a cabin on 
 the outskirts of the city of Ayr; and for this reason Ayr 
 draws to itself every year hosts of visitors. These visitors 
 it is said, number fully twice as many as go to Stratford, 
 which seems to argue that Burns has won more hearts than 
 Shakespeare has won intellects. You find yourself in a 
 
 1.03 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Burns atmosphere the moment you reach the town. One 
 dingy little inn, that has a Tam O'Shanter sign hung over 
 its portals, claims to be the veritable place where Tam on 
 that fateful winter night. 
 "Was glorious, 
 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious." 
 Two miles out of town is the low cottage with white- 
 washed walls and thatched roof, which was his home. 
 Until within a few years the house has been an inn; 
 but now it is public property, kept as a memorial, and 
 the entrance is guarded by a turn-stile, through which you 
 purchase the privilege to pass by payment of two pence. 
 The kitchen is the only room of special interest. It was 
 in this room that Burns first saw the light, and tradition 
 adds the poet was only a few days old when a violent 
 storm tided away part of the roof, and mother and babe 
 were forced to seek shelter in the cottage of a neighbor. 
 The apartment is still kept in some semblance of its orignal 
 state, yet after all, lacks the touch of life— it is not used, 
 and it has the stiffness inseparable from a show room. 
 A short walk beyond the Burns cottage stands the renowned 
 Alio way Kirk, in which Tam O'Shanter saw the witches. 
 It has long been a ruin. Even in Burns's time it had been 
 abandoned, and was going to decay. Alloway Kirk is 
 only a short distance from the "Banks and Braes o' Bonnie 
 Doon" The Doon is an unusually pretty river that flows swift 
 and clear between steep, wooded banks. "The Auld Brig" 
 across which Tam O'Shanter made his wild flight is the 
 centre of interest. It is ^ow only used by lovers of Burns, 
 who was still a child when his residence in this vicinity 
 terminated, his father taking a small farm on his 
 employer's estate. Here the father died, and as Robert 
 was the eldest of the seven children, the responsibility 
 of managing the farm fell on his shoulders. Mean- 
 while he had printed the first edition of his poems. This 
 edition was quickly sold and left him twenty pounds 
 profit. What was of more importance it won him friends 
 in the literary world. The demand for his poems in 
 
 104 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 the following year made him master of about five hundred 
 pounds. With part of this he took a farm near Dumfries, 
 where he spent the happiest and most tranquil days of 
 his life. Just around the corner, only a few steps from 
 this cottage, is a great brown church. At the farther end 
 of the church-yard the poet lies buried, and over his 
 remains has been erected an ugly mausoleum, that is whol- 
 ly foreign to the individuality of Burns himself. The 
 poet's celebrity during his later years made him an object 
 of interest and curiosity to strangers, and many persons 
 passing through Dumfries would call on him. These he 
 received at the taverns. And wherever he was, the even- 
 ing was sure to be a merry one, for his good humor and 
 ready wit were unfailing. A favorite resort was the Globe 
 Hotel. Here you can see the tap-room where Burns 
 used to sing, tell stories, and drink. If you step up- 
 stairs you can see his punch bowl, Jean's workbox and 
 a verse of "Comin" through the Rye" just as it was scratched 
 by the poet himself on a window pane. It is a privilege 
 to look on these things, for every relic of Burns and 
 every spot associated with him has something of sacred- 
 ness. And to Ayr and Dumfries come pilgrims from the 
 world over to observe for themselves the scenes familiar 
 to his eyes and celebrated in his verse. 
 
 From The Land of Heather. 
 
 MAN'S HIDDEN SIDE. 
 
 nathan Haskell Dole. 
 THE Moon, that earthward turns her radiant face 
 As if she would without reserve confide 
 Herself to us, conceals a secret side 
 Whereof no mortal ever hopes to trace 
 The dark-environed clue. It is a place 
 Where strange abysmal phantasms may abide, 
 Where Gloom's abhorrent progenies may hide 
 Emprisoned by the ebon walls of Space. 
 
 105 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Each one of us, however gay and bright 
 To those that deem they know us we appear, 
 However frankly we may keep in sight 
 Our alternating phases through the year, 
 Have, like the Moon, a side that lies in night, 
 Unknown to those to whom we are most dear. 
 
 THE INWARD JUDGE 
 
 The soul itself its awful witness is, 
 
 Say not in evil doing, "No one sees;" 
 
 And so offend the conscious One within, 
 
 Whose ear can hear the silences of sin 
 
 Ere they find voice, whose eyes unsleeping see 
 
 The secret motions of iniquity. 
 
 Nor in thy folly say, "I am alone;" 
 For seated in thy heart, as on a throne, 
 The Ancient Judge and Witness liveth still 
 To note thy act and thought ; and as thy ill 
 Or good goes from thee, far beyond thy reach, 
 The solemn Doomsman's seal is set on each. 
 From "Institutes of Man"; 
 J. G. Whittier, 
 
 A PEARL OF GREAT PRICE. 
 
 Just beyond the entrance of the guard-house a troop of 
 Macedonian soldiers came down the street, dragging a young 
 girl with torn dress and dishevelled hair. As the Magian 
 paused to look at her with compassion, she broke suddenly 
 from the hands of her tormentors, and threw herself at his 
 feet, clasping him around the knees. She had seen his 
 white cap and the ringed circle on his breast. "Have pity 
 on me," she cried, "and save me, for the sake of the God of 
 of Purity! I also am a daughter of the true religion which 
 is taught by the Magi. My father was a merchant of 
 
 106 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Parthia, but he is dead, and I am seized for his debts to be 
 be sold as a slave. Save me from worse than death! Ar- 
 taban trembled. 
 
 It was the old conflict in his soul which had come to him 
 in the palm-grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethle- 
 hem — the conflict between the expectation of faith and 
 the impulse of love. Twice the gift which he had consecrated 
 to the worship of religion had been drawn from his hand to 
 the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ulji 
 mate probation, the final and irrevocable choice. 
 
 Was it his great opportunity, or his last temptation ? He 
 could not tell. One thing only was clear in the darkness 
 of his mind. It was inevitable. And, does not the ine- 
 vitable come from God? 
 
 One thing only was sure to his divided heart — to rescue 
 this helpless girl would be a true deed of love. And is not 
 love the light of the soul ? He took the pearl from his bosom 
 Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of 
 tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the slave. 
 
 "This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my 
 treasures which I kept for the king." 
 
 While he spoke the darkness of the sky thickened and 
 shuddering tremors ran through the earth, heaving con- 
 vulsively like one who struggles with mighty grief. The 
 walls of the houses rocked to and fro. Stones were loosened 
 and crashed into the street. Dust clouds filled the air. 
 The soldiers fled in terror, reeling like drunken men. But 
 Artaban and the girl whom he had ransomed crouched 
 helpless beneath the wall of the Praetorium. What had 
 he to fear ? What had he to live for ? He had given away 
 the last remnant of his tribute for the King. He had parted 
 with the last hope of finding Him. The quest was over, 
 and it had failed. But even in that thought, accepted and 
 embraced, there was peace. 
 
 It was not resignation. It was not submission. It was 
 something more profound and searching. He knew that 
 all was well because he had done the best that de could, 
 from day to day. He had been true to the light that had 
 
 107 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 been given to him. He had looked for more. And if he 
 had not found it, if a failure was all that came out of his 
 light, doubtless by that was the best that was possible. He 
 had not seen the revelation of "Life Everlasting, Incorrup- 
 tible and immortal." But he knew that even if he could 
 live his life over again, it could not be otherwise than it had 
 been. 
 
 One more lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered 
 through the ground. A heavy tile shaken from the roof fell 
 and struck the old man on the temple. He lay breathless 
 and pale, with his gray head resting on the young girl's 
 shoulders and the blood-trickling from the wound. As she 
 bent over him, fearing that he was dead, there came a voice 
 through the twilight very small and still, like music sounding 
 from a distance, in which the notes are clear but the words 
 are lost. The girl turned to see if some one had spoken 
 from the window above them, but she saw no one. 
 
 Then the old man's lips began to move, as if in answer, 
 and she heard him say in the Parthian tongue: "Not so 
 my Lord! For when saw I Thee hungered and fed 
 Thee ? Or thirsty, and gave Thee drink ? When saw I 
 Thee a stranger, and took Thee in ? When saw I thee sick 
 or in prison, and came unto Thee ? Three and thirty years 
 have I looked for thee; but I have never seen Thy face, nor 
 ministered to Thee, my King." He ceased and the sweet 
 voice came again. And again the maid heard it; very 
 faintly and far away. 
 
 But now it seemed as though she understood the words. 
 
 "Verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it 
 unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it 
 unto me." 
 
 A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face 
 of Artaban like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain 
 peak. One long, last breath of relief exhaled gently from 
 his lips. 
 
 His journey was ended, His treasures were accepted. 
 The Other Wise Man had found the King. 
 
 Henry Van Dyke. 
 
 108 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 AT MIDNIGHT. 
 By Nathan Haskell Dole. 
 
 Tell me, glowing stars on high, 
 Do I perish when I die ? 
 Or shall I be ever I? 
 
 Will my spirit have re-birth 
 And regain the things of worth 
 When my dust returns to earth ? 
 
 Ye too perish, ye too fall, 
 
 Flash a moment — then the pall; 
 
 Is that typical of all ? 
 
 Boundless depths of glowing spheres, 
 Changeless in the changing years, 
 Seem to negative our fears ! 
 
 Yet your changeless is all change! 
 Fleeting, flying on, ye range 
 Through the vortex vast and strange. 
 
 Other creatures, other men, 
 Cling upon you, live — and then, 
 Do they die and live again ? 
 
 I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVES. 
 Fred Emerson Brooks 
 
 Behold the marvel of the leaves; 
 
 Once green, they blush with shame 
 When Autumn with her mystic torch 
 
 Sets all the woods aflame. 
 What miracle is in the seed 
 
 To carpet hill and glade? 
 
 109 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Does Nature hold eternal life 
 
 In constant ambuscade ? 
 The grain that slept three thousand years 
 
 With some Egyptian King 
 Has grown to feed another race 
 
 By miracle of Spring. 
 
 I may not fathom all, but O, 
 The joy and peace it gives, 
 
 When blessed faith bids me to know 
 That my Redeemer lives. 
 
 When night falls on the ice-bound pole j 
 
 The gates of Heaven seem near; 
 A searchlight out of glory spreads 
 
 Athwart the hemisphere. 
 Aurora at the gate of Morn 
 
 The drowsy watchman wakes; 
 The Night-star sentries disappear 
 
 While day song-ushered breaks. 
 Why spins the world e'en while she swings 
 
 In space none comprehends? 
 Does not infinity begin 
 
 Where calculation ends ? 
 
 I may not fathom all, but O, 
 The joy and peace it gives, 
 
 When blessed faith gives me to know 
 That my Redeemer lives. 
 
 The things that fall arise again 
 
 No matter where they lie; 
 The dew and rain, when Nature wills, 
 
 Get back into the sky. 
 All things that die spring up again 
 
 That doubting man may learn ; 
 
 110 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 The soul alone that never dies 
 
 Must to its God return; 
 Death and decay are but the touch 
 
 Of that Celestial hand 
 That leads you to Eternal Life; 
 
 Sometime you'll understand. 
 
 I may not fathom all, but O, 
 The joy and peace it gives, 
 
 When blessed faith bids me to know 
 
 That my Redeemer lives. 
 From — The "National Magazine." 
 
 HAME'S HAME. 
 
 (Suggested by acquaintance with a Scotch section-man, whose home White 
 Mountain travellers notice clinging to the side of the Willey Brook Gorge.) 
 
 The hills o' bonnie Scotland 
 Are far awa'; 
 I've left my ain auld countree 
 
 Wife, bairns, an 'a'; 
 But high i' the lift the sternies 
 
 Are luikin' doon, 
 An' in the west 5 a-salin', 
 
 The silver mune. 
 Our Ian', our hame may differ \ 
 
 Be'tlateor soon; 
 We've ane thing never changin:' — 
 The heaven abune. 
 
 —Willis Boyd Allen. 
 
 WALKING. 
 Henry D. Thoreau. 
 
 I wish to speak a word for Nature, for absolute freedom 
 and wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture 
 
 111 
 
 ^^^^^^^m 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 merely civil, to regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and 
 parcel of Nature, rather than a member of society. I wish 
 to make an extreme statement. If so I may make an em- 
 phatic one: for there are enough champions of civilization: 
 the minister and the school committee and every one of 
 you will take care of that. I have met but one or two per- 
 sons in the course of my life who understood the art of 
 Walking — that is of taking walks, who had a genius, so to 
 speak, for sauntering: which word is beautifully derived 
 from idle people who roved about the country in the Middle 
 Ages, and asked charity, till the children exclaimed, 
 "There goes a Saunterer, a Holy-Lander." Every walk is a 
 sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us. 
 
 Most of my townsmen would fain walk sometimes, as I 
 do, but they cannot. No wealth can buy the requisite 
 leisure, freedom, and independence which are the capital in 
 this profession. It comes only by the grace of God. It 
 requires a direct dispensation from Heaven to become a 
 walker. You must be born into the family of the walkers. 
 I think I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I 
 spend four hours a day at least sauntering through the 
 woods, and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from 
 all worldly engagements. As a man grows older, his ability 
 to sit still and follow indoor occupations increases. He 
 grows vespertinal in his habits as the evening of life ap- 
 proaches; till at last he comes forth only just before sundown, 
 and gets all the walk that he requires in half an hour. 
 
 Think of a man's swinging dumb bells for his health, 
 when those springs are bubbling up in far off pastures un- 
 sought by him! 
 
 Moreover, you must walk like a camel, which is said to 
 be the only beast which ruminates when walking. When 
 a traveler asked Wordsworth's servant to show him her 
 master's study, she answered "Here is his library, but his 
 study is out of doors." When we walk, we naturally go to 
 the fields and woods. What would become of us if we 
 walked only in a garden or a mall ? Of course it is no use 
 to direct our steps to the woods, if they do not carry us 
 thither. I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked 
 
 112 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in 
 spirit. In my afternoon walk I would fain i orget all my 
 morning occupations and my obligations to society. What 
 business have I in the woods if I am thinking of something 
 out of the woods ? Some do not walk at all; others walk in 
 the highways; a few walk across ots. Roads are made for 
 horses and men of business. I do not travel in them much, 
 comparatively, because I am not in a hurry to get to any 
 tavern or grocery or livery stable or depot to which they 
 lead. I am a good horse to travel but not from choice a 
 roadster. My desire for knowledge is intermittent; but 
 my desire to bathe my head in atmospheres unknown to 
 my feet is perennial and constant. The highest that we 
 can attain to is not Knowledge, but Sympathy with In- 
 telligence. Above all, we cannot afford not to live in the 
 present. Unless our philosophy hears the cock crow in 
 every barn-yard within our horizon, it is belated. The 
 merit in this bird's strain, is in its freedom from all plain- 
 tiveness. The singer can easily move us to tears or to laugh- 
 ter, but where is he who can excite in us a pure morning 
 joy ? When perchance a watcher in the house of mourning 
 I hear a cockerel crow far or near, I think to myself, "There 
 is one of us well, at at any rate," and with a sudden gush 
 return to my senses. We had a remarkable sunset one 
 day last November. When we reflected that this was not a 
 solitary phenomenon, but that it would happen forever and 
 ever an infinite number of evenings, it was more glor- 
 ious still. So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one 
 day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has 
 done ; shall perchance light up our whole lives with a great 
 awakening light as warm and serene and golden as on a 
 bank-side in autumn. 
 
 113 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 FISHING. 
 Alfred L Donaldson. 
 
 Do you know the charm of fishing on the lake 
 
 With the rod that's lithe and limber, 
 
 In the shadow of tall timber, 
 And the pools of gloom that setting suns forsake ? 
 
 Do you know the hush of trolling for the pike, 
 
 Through the waters softly gliding 
 
 And in peace and hope abiding 
 The tingle that foregathers with a strike ? 
 
 Do you know the fret of feeling for big trout 
 
 In dark caverns deep and hollow 
 
 Till you feel the sudden wallow 
 Of the monster as he strikes and goes about ? 
 
 Do you know the pride of landing twenty pounds, 
 
 The moments tense with feeling 
 
 As you slowly go on reeling 
 And the mind foretells the story that astounds ? 
 
 Do you know the wistful waiting for a bite? 
 
 Till the sun grows low and mellow 
 
 And at last above the yellow 
 You perceive a limpid lantern of the night? 
 
 Do you know the spell that fishing really weaves ? 
 
 Is the pause it gives to thinking 
 
 And the way it takes of linking 
 The soul of man to water, clouds, and leaves. ? 
 
 Have you heard the shore-born breezes as they break 
 
 Into lisping soft and winning, 
 
 Like far distant mandolining 
 Drifting down the rippling reaches of the lake ? 
 
 114 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Has the thought of crowded cities crossed your mind; 
 
 Where the tired ones are panting 
 
 While the sunset gleams are slanting 
 Down behind yon solemn hills so cool and kind ? 
 
 Then thank God for Izaak Walton and his book; 
 
 For to him first came the vision 
 
 In this Vale of Indecision, 
 How to solve this life's equation with a hook. 
 From 11 the outlook" 
 
 THERE IS NO GOD. 
 
 "There is no God," the wicked saith, 
 
 "And truly it's a blessing, 
 For what he might have done with us 
 
 It's better only guessing." 
 
 "There is no God," a youngster thinks, 
 "Or really, if there may be 
 
 He surely didn't mean a man 
 Always to be a baby." 
 
 "There is no God," or if there is, 
 "The tradesman thinks, 'twere funny 
 
 If he should take it ill in me 
 To make a little money." 
 
 "Whether there be," the rich man says, 
 
 "It matters very little 
 For I and mine, thank somebody 
 
 Are not in want of victuals." 
 
 Some others, also, to themselves, 
 Who scarce so much as doubt it, 
 
 Think there is none, when they are well, 
 And do not think about it. 
 
 115 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 But country folks who live beneath 
 
 The shadow of the steeple; 
 The parson and the parson's wife, 
 
 And mostly married people. 
 
 Youths green and happy in first love, 
 
 So thankful for illusion; 
 And men caught out in what the world 
 
 Calls guilt, in first confusion. 
 
 And almost every one when age, 
 
 Disease, or sorrows strike him, 
 Inclines to think there is a God, 
 
 Or something very like Him. 
 
 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 
 
 ANONYMOUS STREET. 
 
 BY CLINTON SCOLLAKD. 
 
 There's a quaint little street in the great city's heart 
 That once, so 'tis said, was regarded as "smart," 
 Where Fashion decreed both its boon and its ban, 
 And made and unmade both the matron and man. 
 But now, well, 'tis hardly the fashion you meet 
 As you pass down the pave of — Anonymous Street! 
 
 O the routs that it saw, and will never see more, 
 In the days that our elders refer to as "yore — " 
 In the "water-fall" times, and the era of "hoops", 
 When the daintiest lips for verandas said " stoops", 
 And very few cared for a rural retreat 
 When summer came round save — Anonymous Street. 
 
 How odd would its past pose and polish appear 
 
 If encountered in this, our most civilized year! — 
 
 The droop-lidded curtsy, the soul thrilling sigh! 
 
 Our bows are but nods unless Riche rolls by; 
 
 As for sighs, — not to-day do our hearts seem to beat 
 
 As they fluttered and throbbed in — Anonymous Street, 
 
 X16 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Under earth, over earth, both we soon shall be hurled ; 
 From space do our windows look down on the world. 
 If we ride, 'tis our "car", not our "carriage", we say; 
 A lever not lines guides the steed of the day, 
 Yet sometimes I dream life would be quite as sweet 
 Could we drift back and dwell in — Anonymous Street. 
 
 Permission to use from Author. 
 
 HOW WE SHOULD STRUGGLE AGAINST AP- 
 PEARANCES. 
 
 Every habit and faculty is maintained and increased by 
 the corresponding actions ; the habit of walking by walking, 
 the habit of running by running. If you would be a good 
 reader, read; if a writer, write. But when you shall not have 
 read for thirty days in succession, but have done something 
 else, you will know the consequence. 
 
 In the same way, if you shall have lain down ten days, get 
 up and attempt to make a long walk, and you will see how 
 your legs are weakened. Generally then, if you would 
 make anything a habit do it; if you would not make it a 
 habit, do not do it, but accustom yourself to do something 
 else in place of it. 
 
 So it is with respect to the affections of the soul; when you 
 have been angry you must know that not only has this evil 
 befallen you, but that you have also increased the habit 
 and in a manner thrown fuel upon the fire. 
 
 In this manner certainly, as philosophers say, also diseases 
 of the mind grow up. For when you have once desired 
 money, if reason be applied to lead to a perception of the 
 evil, the desire is stopped and the ruling faculty of our mind 
 is restored to the original authority. But if you apply no 
 means of cure, it no longer returns to the same state, but 
 being again exerted by the corresponding appearance, it is 
 inflamed to desire quicker than before; and when this takes 
 place continually, it is henceforth hardened (made callous) 
 and the disease of the mind confirms the love of money. 
 
 He who has had a fever, and has been relieved from it, is 
 
 117 
 
 ■HMKMmB 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTER VAINED. 
 
 not in the same state that he was before, unless he has been 
 completely cured. Something of this kind happens also in 
 diseases of the soul. Certain traces and blisters are left 
 in it, and unless a man shall completely efface them, when 
 he is again lashed on the same places, the lash will produce 
 not blisters (wehals) but sores. If then you wish not to be of 
 an angry temper, do not feed the habit; throw nothing on 
 it which will increase it; at first keep quiet, and count the 
 days on which you have not been angry. I used to be in a 
 passion every day; now every second day; then every third, 
 then every fourth. But if you have intermitted every thirty 
 days make a sacrifice to God. For the habit at first begins 
 to be weakened, and then is completely destroyed. "I have 
 not been vexed to-day, nor the day after, nor yet on any 
 succeeding day during two or three months ; but I took care 
 when some exciting things happened." Be assured that you 
 are in a good way. 
 
 How then shall this be done ? Be willing at length to be 
 approved by yourself, be willing to appear beautiful to God, 
 desire to be in purity with your own pure self and with God. 
 Then when any such appearance visits you, Plato says: 
 "Have resource to expiations, go a supplicant to the temples 
 of the averting deities." It is even sufficient if you resort to 
 the society of noble and just men, and compare yourself with 
 them, whether you find one who is living or dead. 
 
 But in the first place, be not hurried away by the rapidity 
 of the appearance, but say; 'Appearance, wait for me a little; 
 let me see who you are, and what you are about; let me put 
 you tot he test." And then do not allow the appearance to 
 lead you on and draw lively pictures of the things which will 
 follow ; for if you do, it will carry you off wherever it pleases. 
 But rather bring in to oppose it some other beautiful and 
 noble appearance, and cart out this base appearance. And 
 if you are accustomed to be exercised in this way, you will 
 see what shoulders, what sinews, what strength you have. 
 But now it is only trifling words, and nothing more. 
 This is the true athlete, the man who exercises himself 
 against such appearances. Stay, wretch, do not be carried 
 
 118 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 away. Great is the combat, divine is the work; it is for 
 kingship, for freedom, for happiness, for freedom from 
 perturbation. 
 
 Remember God; call on Him as a Helper and Protector, 
 as men at sea call on the Dioscuri in a storm. 
 
 For what is a greater storm than that which comes from 
 appearances which are violent and drive away the reason ? 
 
 For the storm itself, what else is it but an appearance? 
 For take away the fear of death, and suppose as many thun- 
 ders and lightnings as you please, and you will know what 
 calm and serenity there is in the ruling faculty. But if you 
 have once been defeated and say that you will conquer here- 
 after, and then say the same again, be assured that you will 
 at least be in so wretched a condition and so weak that you 
 will not even know afterwards that you are doing wrong, 
 but you will even begin to make apologies (defences) for 
 your wrongdoing, and then you will confirm the saying 
 of Hesiod to be true. 
 
 With constant ills the dilatory strives. 
 
 Epictetus. 
 
 HENRY'S WOOING OF KATHARINE. 
 
 Scene: An Apartment in the French King's Palace. 
 
 King Henry Fair Katharine, and most fair! 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms 
 Such as will enter at a lady's ear 
 And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart ? 
 Katharine Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot 
 
 speak your England. 
 King Henry O fair Katharine! If you will love me 
 soundly with your French heart, 
 I will be glad to hear you confess it broken- 
 ly with your English tongue. 
 Do you like me Kate? 
 Katharine Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is — like 
 me. 
 
 119 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 King Henry An angel is like you, Kate; and you are 
 like an angel. 
 
 Katharine Que dit-il ?que je suis semblable a les anges ? 
 
 Alice Oui, vraiment, sauf vostre grace ainsi 
 
 dit-il. 
 
 King Henry I said so, dear Katharine, and I must 
 not blush to affirm it. 
 
 Katharine O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont 
 
 pleines de tromperies. 
 
 King Henry What says she, fair one ? That the tongues 
 of men are full of deceits ? 
 
 Alice Oui; dat de tongues of de mans is be full 
 
 of deceits; dat is de princess. 
 
 King Henry The princess is the better Englishwoman. 
 P faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy 
 understanding. I am glad thou canst 
 speak no better English; for if thou 
 could'st, thou would'st find me such a 
 plain king, that thou wouldst think 
 I had sold my farm to buy my crown. 
 I know no ways to mince it in love, 
 but directly to say T love you.' Then, 
 if you urge me farther than to say — 
 'Do you, in faith?' I wear out my 
 suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do, 
 and so clap hands, and a bargain. 
 How say you, lady? 
 
 Katharine Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well. 
 
 King Henry Marry, if you would put me to verses, or 
 to dance for your sake, Kate, why 
 you undid me; for the one, I have 
 neither words nor measure; and for 
 the other, I have no strength in meas- 
 ure, yet a reasonable measure in 
 strength If I could win a lady at leap- 
 frog, or by vaulting into my saddle 
 with my armor on my back, under 
 the correction of bragging be it spoken, 
 
 120 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound 
 my horse for her favors, I could lay 
 on like a butcher, and sit like a jack- 
 a-napes, never off; but before God, 
 Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp 
 out my eloquence, nor I have no cun- 
 ning in protestation; only downright 
 oaths, which I never use till urged, 
 nor never break for urging. If thou 
 canst love a fellow of this temper Kate, 
 whose face is not worth sun-burning, 
 that never looks in his glass for love 
 of anything he sees there, let thine 
 eye be thy cook. I speak to thee 
 plain soldier; if thou canst love me 
 for this, take me ; if not, to say to thee 
 that I shall die, is true; but for thy 
 love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee 
 too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, 
 take a fellow of plain and uncoined 
 constancy; for he perforce must do 
 thee right, because he hath not the 
 gift to woo in other places; for these 
 fellows of infinite tongue, that can 
 rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, 
 they do always reason themselves out 
 again. What, ! a speaker is but a prater; 
 a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg 
 will fall ; a straight back will stoop ; a 
 black beard will turn white; a curled 
 pate will grow bald; a fair face will 
 wither; a full eye will wax hollow; 
 but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and 
 the moon; or rather the sun and not 
 the moon, for it shines bright, and 
 never changes, but keeps his course 
 truly. If thou would have such a 
 
 121 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 one, take me, and take me, take a 
 soldier; take a soldier, take a king: 
 and what sayest thou then to my love ? 
 Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. 
 
 Katharine Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of 
 
 France ? 
 
 King Henry No, it is not possible you should love the 
 enemy of France, Kate; but in loving 
 me you should love the friend of 
 France, for I love France so well that 
 I will not part with a village of it; I 
 will have it all mine ; and, Kate, when 
 France is mine and I am yours, then 
 yours is France, and you are mine. 
 
 Katharine I cannot tell vat is dat. 
 
 King Henry No, Kate ? I will tell thee in French, which 
 I am sure will hang upon my tongue 
 like a new-married wife about her 
 husband's neck, hardly to be shook 
 off. — Quand fai la possession de 
 France, et quand vous avez la posses- 
 sion de moi (let me see, what then? 
 Saint Dennis be my speed!) done vostre 
 est France, et vous estes mienne, It 
 is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer 
 the kingdom, as to speak so much 
 more French. I shall never move 
 thee in French, unless it be to laugh 
 at me. 
 
 Katharine Sauf vostre honneur, le Francois que vous 
 
 parlez, est meilleur que l'Anglois le- 
 quel je parle. 
 
 King Henry No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking 
 of my tongue, and I thine, most truly 
 falsely, must needs be granted to be 
 much at one. But Kate, dost thou 
 understand thus much English ? Canst 
 thou love me? 
 
 122 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Katharine I cannot tell. 
 
 King Henry Can any of your neighbors tell, Kate ? I'll 
 ask them. Come, I know thou lovest 
 me; and at night when you come into 
 your closet, you'll question this gentle- 
 woman about me; and I know, Kate, 
 you will to her, dispraise those parts 
 in me that you love with your heart: 
 but, good Kate, mock me mercifully, 
 the rather, gentle princess, because I 
 love thee cruelly * # * * 
 
 Katharine I do not know dat. 
 
 King Henry Now, fie upon my false French! By mine 
 honor, in true English, I love thee, 
 Kate, by which honor I dare not 
 swear thou lovest me; yet my blood 
 begins to flatter me that thou dost, 
 notwithstanding the poor and un- 
 tempting effect of my visage. And 
 therefore tell me most fair Katharine, 
 will you have me? Put off your 
 maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts, 
 of your heart with the looks of an 
 empress ; take me by the hand, and say 
 Harry of England, I am thine which 
 word thou shalt no sooner bless mine 
 ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 
 England is thine, Ireland is thine, 
 France is thine, and Henry Plan- 
 tagenet is thine; who, though I speak 
 it before his face, if he be not fellow 
 with the best king, thou shalt find 
 the best king of good fellows. Come, 
 your answer in broken music, — for 
 thy voice is music, and thy English 
 broken ; therefore, queen of all, Kath- 
 arine, break thy mind to me in 
 broken English; wilt thou have me? 
 
 123 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Katharine Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere. 
 
 King Henry Nay, it will please him well, Kate ; it shall 
 
 please him, Kate. 
 Katharine Den it soi also content me. 
 
 King Henry Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call 
 
 you my queen. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 124 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 CURIOSITY. 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar. 
 
 Mammy's in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet; 
 
 All de piccaninnies climb an' tug an' sweat, 
 
 Gittin to de winder, stickin' dah lak flies, 
 
 Evah one ermong us des all nose an eyes. 
 
 "Whut she cookin', Isaac?" "Whut she cookin, Jake,? 
 
 "Is hit sweet pertaters? Is hit pie or cake?" 
 
 But we could'n' mek out even whah we stood 
 
 Whut was mammy cookin' dat could smell so good? 
 
 Mammy spread de winder, an' she frown an' frown, 
 How de piccaninnies come a-tumblin' down! 
 Den she say: "Ef you-all keeps a-peepin' in, 
 How I'se gwine to whup you, my! 't 'ill be a sin! 
 Needn' come a-snimn' an' a-nosin'. hyeah, 
 'Ca'se I knows my business, nevah feah." 
 Won't somebody tell us — how I wish dey would! — 
 Whut is mammy cookin' dat it smells so good? 
 
 We know she means business, an' we dassent stay 
 Dough it's mighty tryin' fuh to go erway; 
 But we goes a-troopin' down de ol' woodtrack; 
 'Twell dat steamin' kitchen brings us stealin' back, 
 Climb in' an' a-peekin' so's to see inside. 
 Whut on earf kin mammy be so sha'p to hide ? 
 I'd des up an' tell folks w'en I knowed I could 
 Ef I was a-cookin' t'ings dat smelt so good. 
 
 Mammy in de oven an' I see huh smile; 
 Moufs mus' be a-wat'in roun', hyeah fuh a mile; 
 Den we almos' hollah ez we hu'ies down, 
 'Ca'se hit 's apple dumplin's big an' fat an' brown! 
 W'en de do' is opened, solemn lak an' slow, 
 Wisht you see us settin' all dah in a row 
 Innercent an' p'opah, des lak chillun should, 
 W'en dey mammy's cookin' t'ings dat smell so good. 
 
 125 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 HE WHO DIED AT AZAN. 
 
 From the Arabic 
 
 SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S TRANSLATION 
 
 He who died at Azan sends 
 Hope to comfort all his friends. 
 
 Faithful friends! It lies, I know 
 Pale and white and cold aa snow, 
 And ye say "Abdullah's dead!" 
 Weeping at the feet and head! 
 I can see your falling tears, 
 I can hear your sighs and prayers ; 
 Yet I smile and whisper this — 
 "I am not the thing you kiss ; 
 Cease your tears, and let it lie; 
 It was mine, it is not I." 
 
 Sweet friends! what the women lave 
 
 For the last sleep of the grave, 
 
 Is a hut which I am quitting, 
 
 Is a garment no more fitting, 
 
 Is a cage from which, at last, 
 
 Like a bird my soul hath passed. 
 
 Love the inmate, not the room — 
 
 The wearer, not the garb — the plume 
 
 Of the eagle, not the bars 
 
 That kept him from those splendid stars. 
 
 Loving friends! Be wise and dry 
 Straightway every weeping eye 
 What ye lift upon the bier 
 Is not worth a single tear. 
 'Tis an empty sea-shell — one 
 Out of which the pearl is gone; 
 The shell is broken, it lies there; 
 
 126 
 
ENT RTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 The pearl, the all , the soul is here. 
 'Tis an earthern jar, whose lid 
 Allah sealed, the while it hid 
 That treasure of his treasury, 
 A mind that loved him; let it lie! 
 Let the shard be earth's once more, 
 Since the gold is in His store! 
 
 Allah glorious! Allah good! 
 Now thy world is understood; 
 Now the long, long wonder ends; 
 Yet ye weep, my foolish friends, 
 While the man whom ye call dead, 
 In unspoken bliss, instead, 
 Lives and loves you; lost 'tis true, 
 For the light that shines for you; 
 But in the light ye cannot see 
 Of undisturbed felicity — 
 In a perfect paradise, 
 And a life that never dies. 
 
 Farewell, friends; but not farewell; 
 Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. 
 I am gone before your face, 
 A moment's worth, a little space. 
 When ye come where I have stepped 
 Ye will wonder why ye wept; 
 Ye will know, by true love taught, 
 That here is all, and there is naught. 
 Weep awhile, if ye are fain — 
 Sunshine still must follow rain ; 
 Only not at death — for death, 
 Now we know, is that first breath 
 Which our souls draw when we enter 
 Life, which is of all life center. 
 
 m 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Be ye certain all seems love, 
 Viewed from Allah's throne above; 
 Be ye stout of heart , and come 
 Bravely onward to your home! 
 La-il Allah Allah la! 
 O love divine! O love alway! 
 
 He who died at Azan gave 
 
 This to those who made his grave. 
 
 128 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 HIS FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Margaret Sangster. 
 
 His first love ? Yes, I knew her very well — 
 Yes, she was young and beautiful, like you ; 
 With cheeks rose-flushed, and lovely eyes that fell 
 If people praised her overmuch, but true 
 And fearless, flashing out, as blue eyes can 
 At any cruelty to beast or man. 
 
 Her voice ? 'Twas very gentle, sweet and low, 
 
 With tones to hush a tired child to sleep; 
 
 In every cadence clear, its silvery flow 
 
 Beside a sick-bed had a charm so deep 
 
 Its spell could banish creeping waves of pain, 
 
 Bring easeful quiet to the fevered brain. 
 
 Her hands? Well, dear, they were not quite so small 
 
 As those that trifle with your dainty laces, 
 
 A little browned perhaps, they had such call 
 
 To carry sunshine into shady places; 
 
 Less delicate than yours, and yet I doubt 
 
 If one who loved her ever found it out. 
 
 Her feet ? Sure never steps so swift and steady 
 
 Went straight as arrow flying to a goal; 
 
 If duty summoned her, the ever ready 
 
 To minister to any ailing soul. 
 
 Dear feet that followed where the Master led, 
 
 And set their prints where first He'd left His tread! 
 
 His first love ? Oh, you do begin to see 
 That he might love her dearly, and that yet 
 His manhood's love to you might guerdon be, 
 Upon your woman's brow, its coronet, 
 Dear girl, accept the gift, There is no other 
 First love so holy as she gained — his mother 
 
 Mother's Day in U. S. A. Second Sunday in May. 
 129 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 A HOME SONG. 
 
 I turned an ancient poet's book, 
 
 And found upon the page: 
 
 "Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage." 
 
 Yes, that is true, and something more: 
 
 You'll find, where'er you roam, 
 
 That marble floors and gilded walls 
 
 Can never make a home. 
 
 But every house where Love abides 
 
 And Friendship is a guest, 
 
 Is surely home, and home, sweet home, 
 
 For there the heart can rest. 
 
 — Henry Van Dyke, in Country Life. 
 
 EULOGY ON THE DOG. 
 By George G. Vest. 
 
 Gentlemen of the Jury: — The best friend a man has 
 in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. 
 His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may 
 prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, 
 those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, 
 may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man 
 has he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he 
 needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a 
 moment of ill-considered action. The people who are 
 prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is 
 with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when 
 failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely 
 unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the 
 one that never deserts him, the one that never proves un- 
 grateful or treacherous, is his dog. 
 
 Gentlemen of the jury, a man's dog stands by him in 
 prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He 
 will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow 
 and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his 
 
 130 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, 
 he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter 
 with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of 
 his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other 
 friends desert ' he remains. When riches take wings and 
 reputation falls to pieces he is as constant in his love as the 
 sun in its journey through the heavens. If fortune drives 
 the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and home- 
 less, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of 
 accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against 
 his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death 
 takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in 
 the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their 
 way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, 
 his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert 
 watchfulness, faithful and true even to death. 
 
 One of the most famous speeches ever made by the late 
 Senator Vest, of Missouri, was made in the course of the trial 
 of a man who had wantonly shot a dog belonging to a neigh- 
 bor. Vest represented the plaintiff, who demanded $200 da- 
 mages. When Vest finished speaking, the jury, after two 
 minutes' deliberation, awarded the plaintiff $500. The full 
 text of the speech is printed above. 
 
 RAIN. 
 
 MRS. A. K. CARREL 
 
 Rainin'? Well, I'm thinkin' mebbe, 
 
 Someone's suited, if you ain't : 
 An' the grass an' trees are freshenin' 
 
 So's they'd had a coat of paint. 
 Someone didn't want the sunshine, 
 
 Someone needed this same rain; 
 We can't all be suited always, 
 
 Things will come your way again. 
 
 131 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Straighten out your puckered forehead, 
 
 'Tain't becomin' worn in folds; 
 Folks can tell by merely lookin' 
 
 If a body frets an' scolds. 
 Turn your mouth a leetle upward 
 
 At the comers. Don't you know 
 If you keep your lips a-smilin', 
 
 Discontent haint room to grow? 
 
 Hear that robin red-breast holler — 
 
 Fairly revellin' in song: 
 He don't care how hard it's pourin', 
 
 He don't care a mite how long, 
 Though he's gettin' wet an' soppin', 
 
 He says weather all depends 
 On the state of one's own feelin's 
 
 What is best the good Lord sends. 
 
 One long face is worse than storm clouds 
 
 'Cause it's shut inside the door. 
 Just be cheerful an' be happy 
 
 Or pretend to, if no more. 
 Then you'll find there ain't no weather 
 
 Goin' to make you have the blues, 
 An' you'll never be a-wishin' 
 
 For some other feller's shoes. 
 
 LYING ABED. 
 Gelett Burgess. 
 
 There is an old story about a hard-working man who 
 wished to be so rich that he could afford to have a negro 
 servant call him every morning and say: 
 
 "Seven o'clock, massa; it's all right, don't get up unless 
 you want to!" 
 
 My alarm clock does a similar service for me when it ex- 
 plodes at seven o'clock and awakens me to the bliss of lying 
 
 132 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 abed. I cannot always afford this luxury, but when it 
 comes within my means, it is like cold water in a thirsty land. 
 Every sip of it is pleasure. At quarter past seven I'm called 
 again, this time by an admonitory voice, and at half after 
 the hour the peremptory summons comes, warning me of an 
 overflowing bath. During these thirty minutes I coin soph- 
 istries. 
 
 There are many names which describe this sweet, delicious 
 gratifying state, and all hypnotically suggestive. I count 
 them over longingly, as a miser counts his hoard; sleep — 
 this is my most valuable coin, pure gold, for it will buy me 
 dreams. But sleep is intoxication and now I would but 
 dally with the wine of slumber. From sleep various hues 
 of sleepiness shade upward into full consciouness like the 
 tints of a rainbow. 
 
 These are all included in the act of donning. Dorming 
 may, like a tenpound note, be divided into conditions of 
 lesser denomination. Let me make the change for you, for 
 I love to dorm, and would spend my dorming little by little. 
 There's stupor, too heavy for such use, like a crownpiece, 
 and torpor, which is as unsatisfactory. Then come drowsi- 
 ness and dozing, two valuable media, by which we can come 
 to possess the most exquisite delights. Mere listlessness 
 will bring the trifling joys of mental truancy, and languor 
 captures what is left. These are my morning treasures, 
 with which my morning nap is as well filled as was ever the 
 purse of Fortunatus. 
 
 My half-hour is divisible, moreover, into three distinct 
 periods governed by the body, the intellect, and the will. 
 Even if my waking time is shorter, the sequence is the same, 
 and I rehearse the same processes of thought. First, comes 
 the physical stage, when I give myself up almost completely 
 to the pleasures of lying abed, This portion of my time is 
 the most delightful, for my conscience is not, as yet, aroused 
 to torment me. 
 
 There are more reasons to be discovered for lying abed in 
 the morning than I care to tabulate. But reasons, unfortun- 
 ately, are not excuses. I spend the first third of my trust with 
 
 133 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 a colloquy between two of myselves, who consume their 
 energy in an argument over a semi-unconscious ego. My 
 health, says one, requires that I should sleep, for I went to 
 bed late, and he argues with fatuous zeal of the necessity 
 for rest. The other describes the early morning freshness 
 the joys of matutinal splendors, and points out the fact, that, 
 once tubbed, I will forget this criminal listlessness. And so 
 back and forth the shuttle of thought weaves a seemingly 
 logical fabric, while that delicious, inert something which is 
 my body, tranquilly awaits the final arbitration. Gravity 
 soothes me — the mere pressure of my weight upon the bed 
 is entrancing. To turn, and vary the pressure, is a ravish- 
 ing delight, and my brain swoons, and returns again to semi- 
 consciousness, like a diver plunging for pearls. 
 
 But meanwhile the sun and the flies and the gossip of 
 birds have come to alarm my responsibility, and I approach, 
 insensibly, the second period. 
 
 This is the mental stage of my little game with myself. 
 
 My monitor of duty has vanquished my physical condition, 
 
 and, if I am to win a few moments respite, I must seek more 
 
 cogent reasons for my continued lying abed. To this end, 
 
 I claim the privilege of planning my day's work. D'Artag- 
 
 nan was used to prepare his day's campaign, I remember, 
 
 during this torpid time, and I can do likewise. I will do 
 
 so-and-so when I arise, and I go over my projects as slowly 
 
 as I dare, attempting to produce an attractive program. 
 
 How many schemes have I not built, how many conquests 
 
 conceived that were destined to die, still-born! So I fool 
 
 myself with appearance of activity, but, the while, I must 
 
 confess that the sheets are as cool and smooth as ever, my 
 
 head rests as heavily upon the pillow, the tiny breeze from my 
 
 window charms, without exciting me. 
 
 And now I chance to open my eyes, to watch the mote, 
 dancing in the sunbeam cast athwart my bed, and, beside 
 it, I catch a glimpse of Duty, standing like a ghost, beckoning 
 me towards my bath. The voices of running water tease 
 and annoy my mind, distracting it from its important affairs. 
 A clatter below stairs tells of hideous activities already in 
 
 134 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 progress. Then, with a shocking jerk, my will struggles 
 through my lethargy and shirieks its awful command. 
 
 This is the moral stage of my lying abed. It is short, 
 but terrific in its energy. I am already cowed, and expect 
 my doom. I have given up all hope of reprieve. The 
 necessary means only remain to be thought out — some 
 preliminary conditions to be discussed, and then I must 
 surrender. My capitulation is gradual. First, I remove 
 the covers shrinklingly, one by one, becoming, by easy or 
 rather by difficult stages, more and more uncomfortable. 
 At last my body has succumbed to the approaching inevit- 
 able. My will rallies for its last charge. 
 
 I decide, against my better judgment, to arise as soon as 
 I shall have counted ten, and I proceed, with mechanical 
 precision to beat the time one — two — three — . I allow 
 myself this last moment of grace to close my eyes, as a con- 
 demned criminal is permitted his choice of food. Four, 
 five, six, seven — I try to forget what is to happen, as the 
 victim drowns his despair in drink. Eight, nine — I brace 
 myself for the ordeal — it is the adjustment of the noose. 
 
 Ten ! — I spring from bed with gladness. I have suffered 
 a resurrection, and the joy of living floods my soul. I am 
 the sinner come to repentance, I am the butterfly that has 
 just crawled from its chrysalis! It is over, and I am alive 
 again. 
 
 NOW. 
 
 Sometimes a single hour 
 
 Rings thru' a long life-time, 
 As from a temple tower 
 
 There often falls a chime 
 From blessed bells, that seems 
 
 To fold in Heaven's dreams 
 Our spirits round a shrine, 
 
 Hath such an hour been Thine? 
 
 135 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Sometimes — who knoweth why ? 
 
 One minute holds a power 
 That shadows ev'ry hour, 
 
 Dialed in life's sky. 
 A cloud that is a speck 
 
 When seen from far away 
 May be a storm, and wreck 
 
 The joys of everyday. 
 
 Sometimes it seems not much, 
 
 'Tis scarcely felt at all — 
 Grace gives a gentle touch 
 
 To hearts for once and all, 
 Which in the spirits' strife 
 
 May all unnoticed be, 
 And yet it rules a life; 
 
 Hath this e'er come to thee ? 
 
 Sometimes one little word, 
 
 Whispered sweet and fleet, 
 That scarcely can be heard, 
 
 Our ears will sudden meet, 
 And all life's hours along 
 
 That whisper may vibrate 
 And, like a wizard's song, 
 
 Decide our ev'ry fate. 
 
 Sometimes a sudden look, 
 That falleth from some face, 
 Will steal into each nook 
 
 Of life, and leave its trace; 
 To haunt us to the last, 
 
 And sway our ev'ry will 
 Thro' all the days to be, 
 
 For goodness or for ill; 
 Hath this e'er come to thee ? 
 
 136 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Sometimes one minute folds 
 
 The hearts of all the years, 
 Just like the heart that holds 
 
 The Infinite in tears; 
 There be such thing as this— 
 
 Who knoweth why, or how? 
 A life of woe or bliss 
 
 Hangs on some little now, 
 
 PATIENT MERCY JONES. 
 
 BY JAMES T. FIELDS. 
 
 "Let us venerate the bones 
 Of patient Mercy Jones, 
 Who lies underneath these stones." 
 
 This is her story as once told to me 
 
 By him who still loved her, as all men might see — 
 
 Darius, her husband, his age seventy years, 
 
 A man of few words, but, for her, many tears. 
 
 Darius and Mercy were born in Vermont; 
 
 Both children were christened at baptismal font 
 
 In the very same place, on the very same day — 
 
 (Not much acquainted just then, I dare say). 
 
 The minister sprinkled the babies, and said, 
 
 "Who knows but this couple some time may be wed, 
 
 And I be the parson to join them together, 
 
 For weal or for woe, through all sorts of weather !" 
 
 Well, they, were married, and happier folk 
 
 Never put both their heads in the same loving yoke. 
 
 They were poor, they worked hard, but nothing could try 
 
 The patience of Mercy, or cloud her bright eye. 
 
 She was clothed with Content as a beautiful robe; 
 
 She had griefs — who has not on this changeable globe? — 
 
 But at such times she seemed like the sister of Job. 
 
 137 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 She was patient with dogmas, where light never dawns, 
 
 She was patient with people who trod on her lawns ; 
 
 She was patient with folks who said blue skies were gray, 
 
 And dentists and oxen that pulled the wrong way; 
 
 She was patient with phrases no husband should utter, 
 
 She was patient with cream that declined to be butter; 
 
 She was patient with buyers with nothing to pay, 
 
 She was patient with talkers with nothing to say; 
 
 She was patient with millers whose trade was to cozen, 
 
 And grocers who counted out ten to the dozen; 
 
 She was patient with bunglers and fault-finding churls, 
 
 And tall, awkward lads who came courting her girls; 
 
 She was patient with crockery no art could mend, 
 
 And chimneys that smoked every day the wrong end ; 
 
 She was patient with reapers who never would sow, 
 
 And long-winded callers who never would go; 
 
 She was patient with relatives when, uninvited 
 
 They came, and devoured, then complained they were 
 
 slighted; 
 She was patient with crows that got into the corn, 
 And other dark deeds out of wantonness born; 
 She was patient with lightning that burned up the hay, 
 She was patient with poultry unwilling to lay; 
 She was patient with rogues who drank cider too strong, 
 She was patient with sermons that lasted too long ; 
 She was patient with boots that tracked up her clean floors, 
 She was patient with peddlers and other smooth bores ; 
 She was patient with children who disobeyed rules, 
 And, to crown all the rest, she was patient with fools. 
 
 The neighboring husbands all envied the lot 
 
 Of Darius, and wickedly got up a plot 
 
 To bring o'er his sunshine an unpleasant spot. 
 
 "You think your wife's temper is proof against fate, 
 
 But we know of something her smiles will abate. 
 
 When she gets out of wood, and for more is inclined, 
 
 Just send home the crookedest lot you can find ; 
 
 138 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 Let us pick it out, let us go and choose it, 
 And we'll bet you a farm when she comes for to use it 
 Her temper will crack like Nathan Dow's cornet, 
 And she'll be as mad as an elderly hornet." 
 
 Darius was piqued, and he said, with a vutn, 
 "I'll pay for the wood, if you'll send it hum; 
 But depend on it, neighbors, no danger will come." 
 
 Home came the gnarled roots, and a crookeder load 
 Never entered the gate of a Christian abode. 
 A ram's horn was straighter than any stick in it; 
 It seemed to be wriggling about every minute ; 
 It would not stand up, and it would not lie down ; 
 It twisted the vision of one-half the town. 
 To look at such fuel was really a sin, 
 For the chance was Strabismus would surely set in. 
 
 Darius said nothing to Mercy about it: 
 
 It was crooked wood— even she could not doubt it: 
 
 But never a harsh word escaped her sweet lips, 
 
 Any more than if the old snags were smooth chips. 
 
 She boiled with them, baked with them, washed with them 
 
 through 
 The long winter months, and none ever knew 
 But the wood was as straight as Mehitable Drew, 
 Who was straight as a die, or a gun, or an arrow, 
 And who made it her business all male hearts to harrow. 
 
 When the pile was burned up, and they needed more wood, 
 "Sure, now," mused Darius, "I shall catch it good; 
 She has kept her remarks all condensed for the Spring 
 And my ears, for the trick, now deserve well to sing. 
 She never did scold me, but now she will pout, 
 And say with such wood she is nearly worn out." 
 
 139 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 But Mercy, unruffled, was calm, like the stream 
 
 That reflects back at evening the sun's perfect beam; 
 
 And she looked at Darius, and lovingly smiled, 
 
 And she made this request with a temper unriled: 
 
 "We are wanting more fuel, I'm sorry to say; 
 
 I burn a great deal too much every day, 
 
 And I mean to use less than I have in the past; 
 
 But get, if you can, dear a load like the last; 
 
 I never had wood that I liked half so well — 
 
 Do see who has nice crooked fuel to sell. 
 
 There's nothing that's better then wood full of knots, 
 
 It fays so complete round the kettles and pots, 
 
 And washing and cooking are really like play 
 
 When the sticks nestle close in so charming a way." 
 
 from "Harper's Magazine. 
 
 HORACE ON CHARITABLE JUDGMENTS. 
 
 True love, we know, is blind; defects that blight 
 
 The loved one's charms escape the lover's sight. 
 
 Nay, pass for beauties ; as Balbinus shows 
 
 A passion for the wen on Agna's nose 
 
 Oh, with our friendships that we did the same. 
 
 And screened our blindness under virtue's name I 
 
 For we are bound to treat a friend's defect 
 
 With touch most tender, and a fond respect ; 
 
 Even as a father treats a child who hints 
 
 The urchin's eyes are roguish, if he squints; 
 
 Or if he be as stunted, short, and thick, 
 
 As Sisyphus, the dwarf, will call him "chick!" 
 
 If crooked all ways, in back, in legs, and thighs, 
 
 With softening phrases will the flaw disguise. 
 
 So, if one friend too close a fist betrays, 
 
 Let us ascribe it to his frugal ways. 
 
 Or is another — such we often find, — 
 
 To flippant jest and braggart talk inclined, 
 
 'Tis only from a kindly wish to try 
 
 140 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 TAMMY. 
 Baroness Nairne. 
 
 I wish I kenned my Maggie's mind, 
 
 If she's for me or Tammy; 
 To me she is but passing kind, 
 
 She's caulder still to Tammy, 
 And yet she lo'es me no that ill, 
 
 If I believe her granny; 
 O sure, she must be wond'rous nice, 
 
 If she'll no hae me or Tammy. 
 
 I've spiered her ance, I've spiered her twice, 
 
 And still she says she canna; 
 I'll try her again and that mak's thrice 
 
 And thrice they say is canny. 
 Wi' him she'll hae a chaise and pair 
 
 Wi' me she'll hae shanks naggie; 
 He's auld and black, I'm young and fair, 
 
 She'll surely ne'er tak' Tammy, 
 But if she's a fule, and slightlies me, 
 
 I'll e'en draw up wi' Nancy; 
 There's as gude fish into the sea 
 
 As e'er cam' out, I fancy, 
 And though I say't that shou'dna say't, 
 
 I'm owre gude a match for Maggie, 
 Sae mak' up your mind without delay, 
 
 Are you for me or Tammy ? 
 
 UP HILL. 
 
 Does the road wind up-hill all the way ? 
 
 Yes, to the very end. 
 Will the days journey take the whole long day ? 
 
 From morn to night, my friend. 
 
 141 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 To make the time 'mongst friends go lightly by 
 Anothers' tongue is rough and overfree, 
 Let's call it bluntness and sincerity; 
 Another's choleric; him we must screen, 
 As cursed with feelings for his peace too keen. 
 This is the course, methinks, that makes a friend, 
 And, having made, secures him to the end. 
 
 But is there for the night a resting place, 
 A roof for when the slow dark hours begin ? 
 
 May not the darkness hide it from my face ? 
 You cannot miss that inn. 
 
 Shall I meet other wayfarers at night, 
 
 Those who have gone before? 
 Then must I knock, or call, when just in sight ? 
 
 They will not keep you standing at that door. 
 
 Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? 
 
 Of labor you shall find the sum. 
 Will there be beds for me and all who seek ? 
 
 Yea, beds for all who come, 
 
 Christina Georgina Rosetti. 
 
 142 
 
ENTERTAINER AND ENTERTAINED. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 "To-morrow" and "To-day" and "Yesterday", 
 Time's trinity whose flight no hand can stay— 
 Each one of which into the other leads, 
 And from the other makes its constant way. 
 To-day to Yesterday too soon proceeds, 
 To-morrow to To-day as quickly speeds, 
 The hasting panorama glides as tho 
 To mock, at contemplated human deeds. 
 
 Live then To-day; for out of it doth grow 
 Your past and future, unto it you owe 
 Whatever was or will be. Time's estate 
 Entire, is now and here to-day. Let no 
 Regrets for Yesterday procrastinate, 
 To-morrow's dawn do not anticipate. 
 
 Frem Omar Sonnets and Trans by 
 
 Lefra Lyrics. Oliver Opp Dyke. 
 
 143 
 
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