LtBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap, Copyright No, _. SheltTiA£0\ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. HOW TO RECITE A SCHOOL SPEAKER BY F. TOWNSEND SOUTHWICK PRINCIPAL OF THE SEW YORK SCHOOL OF EXPRESSION » AUTHOR OF " ELOCUTION AND ACTION," ETC. £S^< NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:• CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY TWO COPIES RECEIVED, tjfcrary of Congre«% Office of tho MART 9 1900 Kegltttr of Copyright* 56833 fh1? JietitcatetJ to JOHN A. BBOWNING LC Control Number ■11 txapge 031307 SECOND COPY, Copyright, 1900, by. F. Townsend Southwiok, SOU. HOW TO KECITE E-P 1 PREFACE This collection includes representative selections from the best literature, arranged and condensed for effective use in school declamation. Part First gives a sufficient outline of the technique to guide the student, but presupposes some knowledge and training on the part of the teacher. 1 Part Second consists entirely of selections, arranged as closely as practicable on a historical plan, but interspersed with examples of colloquial and humorous styles, the study of which will help to counteract the tendency toward a stilted and declamatory manner. The criticism has been justly made that the so-called old elocution did not take sufficient account of funda- mental psychological processes. On the other hand, cer- tain recent methods erred quite as greatly in ignoring the technique of voice and action. If the old school often fostered a mechanical and "elocutionary" delivery, the tendency to rely exclusively on thought and impulse has resulted quite as often in either cold self-conscious intel- lectualism, or impassioned rant, according to the idiosyn- crasy of teacher or pupil. A truly philosophical method will be coordinative from the outset, and a considerable 1 The author's primer of Elocution and Action [New York : Edgar S. Werner] is recommended as a supplementary text-book for students who wish a more complete knowledge of the subject, as well as for teachers who are unfamiliar with the technical problems of the art. An advanced treatise is in preparation. 3 4 PREFACE experience with professional students, representing both new and old methods, has convinced me that some such combination of psychic and physical training as is illus- trated herein is the only one which can produce satisfac- tory results. The order of study is that which I have used with suc- cess. It will be noticed that each step is exemplified by a number of selections. While it may be necessary to anticipate occasionally, the best plan is to dwell upon each step until it is mastered. For instance, in the study of phrasing, while the teacher might correct some obvious fault of emphasis, the pupil's attention should not be dis- tracted from phrase grouping and pause. The teacher should note, however, that though the imaginative and emotional processes are more fully considered in later chapters, they are touched upon in the introductory chap- ter, and that expression presupposes from the outset the fullest possible coordination of all the psychic processes. Rightly studied, as the art of interpretation, elocution is a key to the spiritual meaning of all great literature. No man was ever yet truly eloquent in an ignoble cause, and no boy or girl can live in communion with eloquence without being helped to a nobler ideal of personal conduct. Acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Harper & Brothers and the Century Company for permission to use copy- righted selections. I wish especially to thank Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin, & Company for permission to use the copyrighted selections from the works of Bryant, Hay, Higginson, Holmes, and Whipple, of which they are the authorized publishers. F. TOWNSEND SOUTHWICK. The New York School of Expression, 318 W. 57th Street. CONTENTS PAET I CHAPTER I. Introduction .... II. Attitudes of the Body III. Logical Expression IV. The Melody of Emphasis . V. Inflection .... VI. The Eye and Face in Reading VII. Breathing .... VIII. Vocal Power .... IX. Enunciation .... X. Oratorical Delivery . XL Gesture XIL Descriptive Expression XIII. Descriptive Expression XIV. Dramatic Expression . XV, Dramatic Attitudes 7 10 17 27 37 51 65 79 95 110 119 135 118 179 190 PAPT II Miscellaneous Selections Index to Authors Index to Selections 219 457 461 PART I CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY The art of reading consists in speaking the words of another so as to bring out their full meaning. But words are not important in themselves ; they are only the signs of things, of ideas about things, or of feelings awakened by these. That is, we usually speak, not to utter sounds merely, but to tell others what we think or feel, or to describe what we have seen or heard. Literature is the effort of man to express himself by written language, and to read literature aloud requires not merely command of the voice, but complete under- standing of and sympathy with the thoughts and emo- tions of the author. When the poet writes : — I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. — Cowper, The Task. it is not merely for the amusement of composing verse, but because he hates cruelty and wishes to express his sentiments in language that shall not only be adequate to his meaning, but which, being cast in poetic form, will be more likely to be read and remembered than if it were in prose. So, the reader of these lines must regard his art, not as a mere means of playing with sounds and emotions, 7 8 SCHOOL SPEAKER but of teaching the lesson of kindness. To say with real expression: — He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small, For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. — Coleridge, Ancient Mariner. the speaker must believe what he says. Not only must one believe, but he must wish to make others believe, and. try to read so that they shall agree with him. He will do this most effectively if he reads or speaks so well that his auditors forget that he is reading at all, and almost imagine that he is speaking his own words. The highest compliment that can be paid to a reader or reciter is not : "How well you recited that poem ! " but "What a beautiful poem you recited ! " or " I never appreciated that poem until you interpreted it for me ! " That is the ideal toward which our studies should tend, and it is as important for the student of oratory as for the elocutionist. . So long as the audience are occupied with the gestures or even the language of the orator, he has failed. It is only when they become so interested in the matter that they forget the manner that he can be said to succeed. But this does not mean that manner should be neglected, for he who has a bad manner will find not only that it distracts the attention of his audience, but that the consciousness of awkwardness or inefficiency is a constant source of embarrassment to himself. Words are not only signs of ideas ; they picture or suggest pictures. The Avords " a mad dog," for instance, call up at once in our minds, not the forms of the letters composing the words, or the mere sounds the letters make, but a mental INTRODUCTORY 9 "image" or "picture." Some of us who have vivid imaginations could, perhaps, see a very clear picture, with many accessories, such as people running away from the dog, the street or road where the beast is, even the size, color, and other peculiarities of the animal, the foam which flecks his snapping jaws, and the glare of his eyes as he rushes toward us. Perhaps some think they hear the cries of the frightened people or the fierce growls of the creature. This action of the mind in picturing is called imagination. But the thought or vivid image of a mad dog will probably call up something like the unpleas- ant feelings we should have if we really saw one, just as the thought of a long vacation causes pleasure. These and like feelings we know as emotions and sensations. Thought, imagination, and feeling are the inner, or men- tal processes, which find expression in voice and action. If we would express naturally, we must think and feel naturally. Rules will help us, but they cannot supply the place of mental action. In order to express our thoughts as we would wish, both voice and body must be trained to respond to the mind. Ease of manner is attained by command of the body and of the voice. Our first exercises must necessarily be somewhat mechan- ical and less interesting than those that follow later, but in no art or accomplishment can skill be obtained without drudgery. Neglect of fundamentals is the cause of half the failures in life. In this book we have no space for explaining the reasons for all our exercises, but the student may be sure that they have been tested by practical experience, and that, if faithfully practiced, they will lead to success. CHAPTER II ATTITUDES OF THE BODY "ATTENTION" OR " RESPECT : EXERCISE I Bring the heels together and stand perfectly straight, as a soldier would, with arms at the sides, weight not on the heels, but on the middle of the foot, " eyes front." Avoid stiffness, but try to feel as tall as possible. EXERCISE II (1) Inhale through the nostrils slowly, rilling the lungs from the waist to the top of the chest, but without lifting the shoulders. (2) Hold the breath. (3) Slowly exhale. Imagine you inhale the perfume of a rose. Be careful not to protrude the stomach when breathing, but rather to draw it in. EXERCISE III Breathing in the same way, (1) rise slowly but gently, as if trying to reach the ceiling with your head, until the heels are as high off the floor as possible without loss of balance. (2) Keep this position and hold the breath. Imagine that the breath in your lungs holds you up as 10 ATTITUDES OF THE BODY H the hydrogen would raise a balloon. (3) As you exhale, come back to the original position. The Attitude of Attention or Respect is preliminary to the bow. In practising for public appearance, it is well to walk forward a few steps, as you would on the platform, then bring the heels together as you face your audience. EXERCISE IV BOWING Standing as before, bend the head slowly, glancing from one to another of an imaginary audience as you do so. Do not drop the eyes to the floor. The trunk or torso should have a slight sympathetic inclination. The orator's manner should always be dignified. On the plat- form he first bows to the presiding officer, then to the audience. If the auditorium is of considerable size, or if he is received with especial applause, he may find it nec- essary to bow several times, to the right, left, balconies, etc., but without good reason he would do better to con- fine himself to a single simple acknowledgment. When a lady bows, one foot is retired with the knee bent, and the body sinks back upon it, then returns to the erect position. This action should not be over- done. The elaborate courtesy is out of place on the platform. EXERCISE V FOR FLEXIBILITY AND EASE OF THE BODY (1) Slowly bend the body forward as far as possible, the arms hanging loosely at the sides. Be sure that the movement is a blend of first head, then torso, and that the torso bends in a curve, not as if the body were 12 SCHOOL SPEAKER hinged or jointed at the waist and neck and rigid else- where. (2) Let the body remain in this position until every joint and muscle of the torso, neck, and arms is per- fectly free and hangs by its own weight. (3) Return slowly to an erect position. Repeat sev- eral times, or go on to (1) Bend backward in the same way. (5) Return. (6) Bend to the right side. (7) Return. (8) Bend to the left. (9) Re- turn. (10) Circle the torso, i.e. bend forward, and then carry the torso successively to the right, back, left, front, etc., in a circle, letting the arms go as gravitation compels them. (11) Return to the erect position, and finally (12) Bow as described above. 1 EXERCISE VI FLEXIBILITY OF THE NECK Holding the torso erect, bow and circle the head alone in the same way. Later, combine intonation with this exercise to insure freedom of the larynx in speaking, as directed in Chapter VII. 1 In the above exercise the hip will naturally sway in the opposite direction from the chest in order to maintain the balance. Do not try to prevent this. If dizziness results, practice more gently and for a shorter time. ATTITUDES OF THE BODY 13 EXERCISE VII THE SPEAKER'S POSITION Having finished your bow, carry the weight of the body to ONE foot only by swaying the hip out at the side, until the median line of the body is over the middle of the foot. This foot is called the strong foot, as it supports the body. When this position is taken with perfect ease, the body is no longer stiffly erect, but has a graceful and flexible ap- pearance. The shoulders oppose, as we say, the hip, being inclined slightly toward the weak or free side of the body, while the head again inclines slightly toward the strong side. The free foot, that is, the one which does not support the weight, should be carried outward a little, either laterally or obliquely. Be sure that it rests only on the inner edge and that the free knee is perfectly relaxed. It makes no difference whether you stand on the right or left foot. With the free foot about opposite the strong foot, the position is normal or neutral. With the strong foot- retired, the free foot obliquely in front, the position is expressive of concentration, command, or repose. With the strong foot advanced, free foot obliquely retired, the attitude expresses animation, attraction. In addressing an audience we usually reserve the last 14 SCHOOL SPEAKER position for moments when we are especially desirous of winning their sympathy. Avoid unnecessary movements of the body. We shift the weight from one foot to another only when there is a reason for it. When a new paragraph is begun or when there is a decided transition of thought, it is well to emphasize the fact by a considerable pause and by a change of the weight from one foot to another. The following exercises will aid in gaining grace and ease in attitude. EXERCISE VIII TESTS OF POISE Standing as above, (1) tap the floor with the free foot, in front, behind, at the side, and across the body, and notice whether this disturbs the poise of the body. (2) Place the free foot at the back of and around the strong ankle, without disturbing the poise. (3) With the free foot around the ankle, throw the arms about freely, or (4) Rise on one foot without change of poise. Be sure that, in all these exercises, the body does not stiffen. EXERCISE IX SWAYING THE HIP Placing the hands on the hips, sway the hip out over the strong side as far as possible. Then sway to the opposite side until the hip is as far as possible over the foot. Let ATTITUDES OF THE BODY 15 the shoulders move as little as possible. Do this in all directions, laterally and obliquely. EXERCISE X TRANSITION OF POISE Change the weight from one foot to the other by gently swaying the hip. Imagine that you address various per- sons in different parts of the room. For example, stand- ing on the right foot : — (1) Look toward some one or something obliquely at your left, (2) transfer the weight to the left foot, that is, the foot that is nearest the object of your attention, (3) oc- casionally raise the arm in the following order, upper arm, forearm, hand, as if to shake hands with the person you address. (4) Slowly relaxing the arm, turn in the oppo- site direction, and repeat the exercise. Be careful not to 16 SCHOOL SPEAKER shuffle the feet. Practice turning in all possible direc- tions, advancing the foot, retiring, turning halfway around, etc., but always noticing that the free foot points in the new direction before you change the weight. This does away with the very ungraceful screwing about of the foot after the weight of the body is on it. EXERCISE XI Keeping the body erect (with the heels together at the start), (1) advance the free foot as far as possible with the knee bent. (2) Transfer the weight. (3) Spring back to the opposite position, but on the same foot. (4) Spring forward. Practice in all directions. The arms may be as in the diagram, or in any other strong attitude. CHAPTER III LOGICAL EXPRESSION The simplest forms of expression are those which for convenience we designate as Logical ; that is, dealing chiefly with thoughts, or statements of facts, and the rela- tions of one idea or fact to another. The simplest of the logical forms is called the Didactic style of speaking, because it aims to instruct, to give in- formation, rather than to amuse us or excite our sympa- thies. The manner which we habitually use in ordinary intercourse is called the Conversational style of ad- dress. It is not so precise and exact as the didactic. The most familiar form of conversation is the Collo- quial. Such expressions as don't for do not, we'll for we will, and familiar forms of address, like hello, old fellow ! are examples of colloquial diction. So, the delivery of colloquial language should be more careless and familiar than that of the other forms of logical expression. But, curiously enough, though we all speak colloquially, few of us can read with even a fair imitation of the con- versational manner. It is enough, at first, if we succeed in reproducing the didactic style. In the following illustration, Webster, one of the great- est of orators, endeavors to impress upon us the necessity for cultivating those powers which are the basis of all true oratorical success. SOU. SCH. SPEA. 2 17 18 SCHOOL SPEAKER When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occa- sions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions ex- cited, nothing is valuable in speech, further than it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. How shall we read this so as to make it impressive ? First of all, by thinking Webster 's thoughts over again, — ■ not merely thinking about them, but convincing ourselves of their truth ; and, second, by endeavoring to impress those thoughts upon our auditors so that they shall be convinced. It is hardly necessary to say that in order to do this, one must thoroughly understand the meaning of the author he would interpret. To express naturally we must concen- trate on one thought at a time. A group of words that expresses a single thought or feeling, describes a single event, or pictures one scene for us, is called a phrase. The greatest essential in phrasing, and the one most neglected by readers and speakers, is pause. In the above example we must wait for each thought to make its impression upon the auditor before we speak the next. We pause in speaking our own thoughts because we must, in order to arrange our words ; but in reading aloud, and especially in reciting what has become familiar to us by frequent repetition, there is great danger of neg- lecting this, and forgetting that what is old to us, is new, or supposed to be new, to the audience. The best rule to follow is to pause for every thought. In the pause try to think the new thought, see the new picture, or feel the new emotion as if it had never been thought, seen, or felt before in your life. LOGICAL EXPRESSION 19 Phrases are sometimes marked by a slur ^ over each group, sometimes by one or more vertical lines I, II, III, between the phrases, according to the length of the inter- vening pause. Where the slur is used, we indicate a very slight pause thus ^-, showing that though there is a momentary cessation of sound, the thoughts are too closely connected to admit of a distinct separation. In reading aloud, consider each phrase as a temporary compound word, with the accent falling on the most important word. Speak the unimportant words clearly, but not overcarefully ; that is, just as you would speak the unaccented syllables of any word which you wish your hearer to understand fully, but not as if each word or syl- lable were as important as the others. Treat the different phrases in the same way, speaking the most important ones more slowly and impressively than the rest, and passing lightly over those which you regard as of little comparative consequence. The more earnest the speaker, the more frequent the pauses. In reading poetry, especially where rhyme and meter are prominent, it is of the greatest impor- tance to phrase carefully. The unpleasant effect known as singsong arises from neglect of pause and rhythm. Take a breath for each phrase. The more important the thought, the deeper and fuller should be the breath, but " use all gently." Analyze the following selections for phrasing. There is one broad proposition, Senators, upon which I stand. It is this — that an American sailor is an American citizen, and that no American citizen shall, with my consent, be subjected to the infamous punishment of the lash. Placing myself upon this proposition, I am prepared for any consequences. — Commodore Stockton, Against Whipping in tlie Navy. 20 SCHOOL SPEAKER Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, — That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true. How would you phrase the following : (a) for conver- sation, (6) for a very earnest and impressive didactic expression ? The only method of acquiring effective elocution is by prac- tice, of not less than an hour a day, until the student has his voice and himself thoroughly subdued and trained to right expression. —Henry Ward Beecher. ILLUSTRATIVE SELECTIONS TRUE ELOQUENCE When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther than it is connected with high intellectual and moral endow- ments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil iu vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it, but cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting- forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. LOGICAL EXPRESSION 21 The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then, words have lost their power ; rhetoric is vain ; and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent ; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deduc- tions of logic, the high purpose of firm resolve, the daunt- less spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object, — this is eloquence ;. or, rather, it is something greater and higher than all eloquence. It is action, noble, sublime, godlike action ! —Webster. OTHELLO S DEFENSE Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, — That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true ; true I have married her ; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field ; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself. Yet by your gracious patience, 22 SCHOOL SPEAKER I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love , what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charged withal,) I won his daughter. Her father loved me ; oft invited me, Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, ■ That I have pass'd. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it : Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence, And with it all my travel's history. These things to hear, Would Desdemona seriously incline : But still the house affairs would draw her thence : Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse. Which I observing, Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively : I did consent ; And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke, That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : She swore, — in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange ; LOGICAL EXPRESSION 23 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wisli'd That Heaven had made her such a man : she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake ; She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd ; And I loved her, that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used ; Here comes the lady, let her witness it. — Shakespeake. THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN [For avoiding singsong. Try to read as colloquially as possible.] It was a tall young oysterman lived by the riverside, His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide ; The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and slim, Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him. It was the pensive oysterman that saw a lovely maid, Upon a moonlight evening, a sitting in the shade ; He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say, "I'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks away." Then up arose the oysterman and to himself said he : " I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see ; I read it in the story book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont, — and I will swim this here." 24 SCHOOL SPEAKER And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shin- ing stream, And he has clambered up the bank, all in the moonlight gleam ; O there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain, — But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps again ! Out spoke the ancient fisherman, — "O what was that, my daughter ? " " 'Twas nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water." " And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so fast?" " It's nothing but a porpoise, sir, that's been a swimming past." Out spoke the ancient fisherman, — " Now bring me my harpoon ! I'll get into my fishing boat, and fix the fellow soon." Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snow-white lamb, Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like seaweed on a clam. Alas for those two loving ones ! she waked not from her swound, And he was taken with the cramp, and in the wave was drowned ; Bat fate has metamorphosed them, in pity of their woe ; And now they keep an oystershop for mermaids, clown below. — Oliver Wendell Holmes. LOGICAL EXPRESSION 25 TRUE PATRIOTISM Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness sometimes impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so imamiable and offensive in private life, are vices which partake of the character of crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions cannot see beyond the little, petty, contemptible circle of his own personal interests. All his thoughts are withdrawn from his country and concentrated on his consistency, his firm- ness, himself. The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriot- ism, which, soaring toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul- transporting thought of the good and the glory of one's country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. That patriotism which, catching its inspirations from the immor- tal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below all lesser, groveling, personal interests and feelings, animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, and of death itself, — that is public virtue, that is the noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues. — Henry Clay. TALK TO AN ART UNION It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess. Who would not mourn that an ample palace, of surpassingly graceful architecture, 26 SCHOOL SPEAKER fill'd with luxuries, and embellish' d with fine pictures and sculpture, should stand cold and still and vacant, and never be known or enjoy'd by its owner ? Would such a fact as this cause you sadness ? Then be sad. For there is a palace, to which the courts of the most sumptuous kings are but a frivolous patch, and, though it is always waiting for them, not one of its owners ever enters there with any genuine sense of its grandeur and glory. I think of few heroic actions, which cannot be traced to the artistical impulse. He who does great deeds, does them from his innate sensitiveness to moral beauty. Such men are not merely artists, they are also artistic material. Washington in some great crisis, Lawrence on the bloody deck of the Chesapeake, Mary Stuart at the block, Kossuth in captivity, and Mazzini in exile — all great rebels and innovators, exhibit the highest phases of the artist spirit. The painter, the sculptor, the poet, express heroic beauty better in description ; but the others are heroic beauty, the best belov'd of art. Talk not so much then, young artist, of the great old masters, who but painted and chisell'd. Study not only their productions. There is a still higher school for him who would kindle his fire with a coal from the altar of the loftiest and purest art. It is the school of all grand actions and grand virtues, of heroism, of the death of patriots and martyrs — of all the mighty deeds written in the pages of history — deeds of daring and enthusiasm, devotion and fortitude. — Walt Whitman. CHAPTER IV THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS Nothing is more wearisome to the listener than a dead level of monotonous speech, unless it be a meaningless melody. A careful observance of the following directions will enable the student to avoid both faults. The words of each phrase cluster about some one word, which is the key word or thought word of the group. This word is the one upon which both mind and voice dwell for the longest time. It is usually spoken with a stronger accent, or upon a higher or lower pitch, than the rest. It is called the Emphatic word. In logical expres- sion we shall invariably find that the emphatic word is the word which completes the new idea. The degrees of emphasis are many. We commonly speak of the most important as Primary, the next as Secondary, and the others as Subordinate. Those passages which are distinctly unemphatic we speak of as Subordinate. In refined speech emphasis is manifested by Melody, produced by change of pitch and quantit}^, that is, greater or less prolongation of tone. For greater precision and earnestness, we often pause before the emphatic word. This pause, in didactic speech, is often filled in with a gesture of the index finger. In an unimportant phrase there is, strictly speaking, no real emphasis, for the word implies an intention to make 27 28 SCHOOL SPEAKER an idea more or less prominent, but still there is always some degree of melodic change as there is always variety of rhythmical movement. In such a sentence as, " If you wish me to read this par- agraph, I will do so with pleasure," there may be little em- phasis, in which case the melodic relations of the words might be represented approximately: — a graph, x n to-* thisPai will do so withP^s ure . wish me or, if spoken with greater animation, the second phrase might be represented thus : — itl pleas with do so pleas I ure (or), I will do so ure. or the emphasis might be different: — Wish me . Qn with P leas ure. re ad .„ do so If you tMs ^ win par a Implying that you would not do so if it were not desired. Notice, too, the unfinished sound of the sentence if spoken with the last word on a pitch above the starting point, or key note, implying "but otherwise it would be anything but a pleasure." Notice that each shade of emphasis shows some degree of contrast, either expressed or implied. For example : "If you (not he) wish"; "If you wish me (not some one else) "; " this paragraph " (not another). Try to see how many shades of meaning you can give to this and similar sentences. THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 29 As we read the above examples, we shall notice, (1) that the accented syllable of the most important ivord is usually spoken on a higher pitch than the rest / (2) that the second- ary emphasis is of ten pitched a little lower than the start- ing note ; (3) that unimportant words are spoken more rapidly and carelessly; (4) that the greater the emphasis, the wider the range of the voice ; (5) that, at the comple- tion of a statement, the emphatic words often proceed downward. This is called Cadence, or Close, and indi- cates' completion, or finality, of statement. We shall find that contrasted thoughts and pictures have contrast in pitch : — borrower Neither a lender . lender -, Neither nor a De ' The primary emphasis is not always on a higher note than the rest of the phrase, for the pitch, not only of the emphatic word, but of the phrase, sentence, or whole selec- tion, is determined to a great extent by its meaning, and especially by the motion of the speaker. Thus, unpleasant or base things have low pitch, while pleasant and joyful moods are usually associated with higher tones. Compare: " How beautiful!" "It is a fearful sight. " " Isn't it jolly ! " " Poor fellow ! " " How disgusting ! " " I hate him ! " The pitch of the voice is lower for serious than for triv- ial ideas, and in speaking very solemnly the voice, instead of rising, is apt to descend, not merely for the emphatic word, but throughout the whole phrase or sentence. 30 SCHOOL SPEAKER The voice, too, suggests many qualities of the objects we describe, not only by its pitch, but by the rate of movement. " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean " would sound very ridiculous if spoken with the pitch and rhythm of Merrily swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame ; Over the mountain side or mead Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. — Bkyant. To say " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day" with brisk movement, high pitch, and joyful melody would be as incongruous as to say " A hurry of hoofs in the vil- lage street " with slow and measured expression. Note, however, that in excitement, though the phrases are spoken quickly, the pauses must not be neglected, or the effect will be of mere gabble. With regard to the melodic direction of unimportant words, the reader will do best to trust to instinct. If he will endeavor to bring out the emphatic words melodically as well as rhythmically, the others will take care of them- selves. Avoid emphasis by force, except where the expression absolutely requires it, as in loud calling, or in explosive anger. Other means of emphasis will be discussed further on. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honor's at the stake. — Shakespeare, Hamlet. THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 31 A fool always wants to shorten space and time ; a wise man wants to lengthen both. A fool wants to kill space and time \ a wise man, first to gain them, then to animate them. — RUSKJN. And Concord roused, no longer tame, Forgot her old baptismal name, Made bare her patriot arm of power, And swelled the discord of the hour. — Read. Musick more loftly swels In speeches nobly placed ; Beauty as farre excels In action aptly graced. — Sir Philip Sydney. From little matters let us pass to less, And lightly touch the mysteries of dress ; The outward forms the inner man reveal, — We guess the pulp before we cut the peel. I leave the broadcloth, — coats and all the rest, — The dangerous waistcoat, called by cockneys "vest," The things named " pants " in certain documents, A word not made for gentlemen, but " gents " ; One single precept might the whole condense : Be sure your tailor is a man of sense ; But add a little care, a decent pride, And always err upon the sober side. — Holmes, A JRhymed Lesson. SUBORDINATION By subordination we mean the reverse of emphasis, that is subduing certain passages or making them relatively less important than the rest. Just as the painter brings out certain features of his picture by painting others in the background, so the reader often makes a phrase em- 32 SCHOOL SPEAKER phatic by slurring or subordinating the rest of the sen- tence. Generally, subordinate passages are spoken more rapidly, and on a slightly lower key, than the important ones. Parentheses and explanatory clauses are usually subordinate in reading. Everything that is supposed to be taken for granted, or known beforehand to both speaker and audience, or which requires no explanation, is glanced over very lightly. Colloquial speech is especially charac- terized by subordination, since it presupposes that both speaker and auditor are on familiar terms, whereas didac- tic speech, as we have already seen, requires more careful emphasis and strict attention to details. In the following quotation the reader should take for granted more or less knowledge on our part of the various fascinations of Florence, and try to concentrate our atten- tion on its associations with Galileo. Notice, too, that the author assumes that we know of Galileo's imprisonment : — There is much in every way in the city of Florence to excite the curiosity, kindle the imagination, and gratify the taste; but among all its fascinations, addressed to the sense, the memory, and the heart, there was none to which I more fre- quently gave a meditative hour, during a year's residence, than to the spot where Galileo Galilei sleeps beneath the marble floor of Santa Croce; no building on which I gazed with greater reverence than I did upon that modest mansion at Arceti: villa once, and prison, in which that venerable sage, by the command of the Inquisition, passed the sad closing years of his life. — Everett. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE POLONIUS TO LAERTES Farewell. My blessing with you : And these few precepts in thy memory THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 33 Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: For the apparel oft proclaims the man; And they in France, of the best rank and station, Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all, — To thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. — Shakespeare, Hamlet. GRADATIM Heaven is not reached at a single bound; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to the summit round by round. I count this thing to be grandly true: That a noble deed is a step toward God, SOU. SCH. SPEA. 3 34 SCHOOL SPEAKER Lifting the soul from the common sod To a purer air and a broader view. We rise by things that are under our feet; By what we have mastered of good and gain, By the pride deposed and the passion slain, And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, When the morning calls us to life and light; But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, And we think that we mount the air on wings, Beyond the recall of sensual things, While our feet still cling to the heavj r clay. Only in dreams is a ladder thrown From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, And the sleeper awakes on his pillow of stone. Heaven is not reached at a single bound; But we build the ladder by which we rise Frow the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to the summit round by round. — J. G. Holland. AWAIT THE ISSUE In this world, with its wild whirling eddies and mad foam oceans, where men and nations perish as if without law, and judgment for an unjust thing is sternly delayed, dost thou think that there is therefore no justice? It is what the fool hath said in his heart. It is what the wise, THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 35 in all times, were wise because they denied, and knew for- ever not to be. I telLthee again, there is nothing else but justice. One strong thing I find here below : the just thing — the true thing. My friend, if thou hadst all the artillery of Woolwich trundling at thy back in support of an unjust thing, and infinite bonfires visibly waiting ahead of thee, to blaze centuries long for thy victory on behalf of it, I would advise thee to call halt, to fling down thy baton, and say, " In Heaven's name, No ! " Thy "success"? Poor fellow, what will thy success amount to ? If the thing is unjust, thou hast not suc- ceeded; no, not though bonfires blazed from north to south, and bells rang, and editors wrote leading articles, and the just things lay trampled out of sight, to all mortal eyes an abolished and annihilated thing. It is the right and noble alone that will have victory in this struggle; the rest is wholly an obstruction, a postponement and fearful imperilment of the victory. Toward an eternal center of right and nobleness, and of that only, is all confusion tending. We already know whither it is all tending; what will have victory, what will have none ! The Heaviest will reach the center. The Heaviest has its deflections, its obstructions, nay, at times its rebounclings; whereupon some blockhead shall be heard jubilating: "See, your Heaviest ascends !" but at all moments it is moving centerward, fast as is con- venient for it; sinking, sinking; and, by laws older than the world, old as the Maker's first plan of the world, it has to arrive there. Await the issue. In all battles, if you await the issue, each fighter has prospered according to his right. His right and his might, at the close of the account, were one 36 SCHOOL SPEAKER and the same. He has fought with all his might, and in exact proportion to all his right he has prevailed. His very death is no victory over him. He dies, indeed; but his work lives, very truly lives. A heroic Wallace, quartered on the scaffold, cannot hinder that his Scotland become, one day, a part of England; but he does hinder that it become, on tyran- nous, unfair terms, a part of it; commands still, as with a god's voice, from his old Valhalla and Temple of the Brave, that there be a just, real union, as of brother and brother, not a false and merely semblant one as of slave and master. If the union with England be in fact one of Scotland's chief blessings, we thank Wallace withal that it was not the chief curse. Scotland is not Ireland; no, because brave men rose there and said, " Behold, ye must not tread us down like slaves ; and ye shall not, and cannot ! " Eight on, thou brave true heart, and falter not, through dark fortune and through bright. The cause thou tightest for, so far as it is true, no further, yet precisely so far, is very sure of victory. The falsehood alone of it will be conquered, will be abolished, as it ought to be: but the truth of it is part of Nature's own laws, cooperates with the Avorld's eternal tendencies, and cannot be conquered. — Caulyle. CHAPTER V INFLECTION If we listen attentively to the speech of those about us, we shall notice not only that the words vary in time and pitch, but also that no one sound remains on quite the same note for any appreciable length of time. This is especially noticeable in the emphatic words, where some- times we hear a very long sweep of the voice up or down. This change of pitch on a syllable is called Inflection or Slide, in distinction from Skips of the voice, as in exclamations (" Oh, no ! ") or from the melody of empha- sis, already described. Inflections are usually designated as: Falling ( \ ), Rising (/), Monotone ( — ), Circumflex or Compound (a v, Oj eP). The Falling slide is positive, certain, and shows com- pleteness: "Yes, certainly." - The Rising slide is characteristic of all dependent, uncei- tain, incomplete moods of mind. For instance, in asking a simple question like, "Will you go?" the inflection and go ? " melody both rise, "Will ^ ou leaving, as it were, the thought in the air, to be completed by the person addressed, who, if he answers positively, will speak with a falling tendency, completing the little speech melody by bringing his voice back to the keynote, for example : — r p .O?" "C" «Wi l nl y." 37 38 SCHOOL SPEAKER But rhetorical questions generally have falling inflec- tion : — Will fiowrr sir down, -* ? while very serious questions with surprise usually have falling melody with rising inflections : — And do you now cull out a hoi t day The Monotone may be best described as the absence of definite inflection, rather than as an absolutely unvarying pitch. It is heard in the prolonged tones of calling, as, " Hello-o-o-o ! " and in emotions which check the normal tendencies of inflection, as awe, solemnity, or suspense. An habitual monotone in reading betrays a lack of thought, or inability to make careful distinctions between ideas. There was silence, and I heard a voice saying, " Shall mortal man be more just than God ? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker ? " Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to ever- lasting, thou art God. —David. Hush ! — Hark ! Did stealing steps go by ? Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day, confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. — Shakespeare, Hamlet. INFLECTION 39 THE BEND Positive statements often depend on other statements, expressed or understood, and in these, while the general tendency may be downward, there is always a suspension, sometimes a slight upward turn at the end, showing that the thought is not absolutely complete, thus : — Cp r to- wish -.\ l % (if you it} - This slight turn or suspense of the falling inflection is commonly known as the Bend. It is heard in all paren- thetical clauses, in so-called compellatives, like, " Mr. President," "John"; for example : — " Conscript Fathers : I do not rise to waste the night in words." It also occurs in expressions like, " Said he," preceding a quoted speech ; for example : — And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying, " Blessed are the pure in heart." Near yonder copse where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. Here we have no completed thought until the last line, though the other statements are positive enough to be char- acterized by falling inflections; so we hear just enough of the bend at the end of each subordinate thought to keep us in suspense or direct our attention toward something yet to come. 40 SCHOOL SPEAKER It makes no difference whether the dependent clause precedes or follows the principal one, the bend is heard in either case. In fact, wherever a positive thought is not important enough to require special emphasis, the falling inflection is left more or less incomplete. The bend should not be confounded with the direct rising inflection. It is one of the most difficult yet one of the most important elements in natural speech. Inflection shows not only the relation of thoughts to one another, but the relation of the one who speaks to the person addressed. Thus, " Sit down " (spoken with a direct falling inflection) is a command. "Sit down" (with a bend) is deferential — says, "if you please." " Sit down " (direct rising inflection) is equivalent to "Will you sit clown?" and leaves the matter entirely to the person to whom we speak. MINOR INFLECTION Minor inflections are heard in expressions of weakness, pity, and the like. The minor inflection is, as its name implies, a shortened form of the ordinary or Major inflec- tion. It is usually overdone, resulting in a disagreeable whining tone. The true minor, however, as heard in expressions of deep but controlled sadness, is exceedingly moving. An habitual minor inflection usually indicates physical or mental weakness, or both. In pathetic passages, where the minor would be appropriate, it is most effective if used only on the emphatic word. Read as if the emotion checked the normal utterance, not as if trying to empha- size the feeling. The best method is to feel as sad as possible and then try to read with simple major inflection. INFLECTION 41 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. Oh, well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! Oh, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But oh, for the touch of the vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. — Tennyson. exercise FOR RANGE IN INFLECTION Take a full breath, and, starting from a low pitch, say quite loudly, "Ah?" with as long a slide as possible, expanding the chest as the voice rises. Repeat five times. Use also a, ), Median (O), and Final or Vanishing Stress (<)• Initial Stress, which most commonly occurs, is an abrupt pressure at the beginning of an accented syllable. It is heard in all intense or commanding expressions, and varies in intensity, with the strength of the feeling, from a slightly accentuated beat to the powerfully explosive utterance in anger, defiance, and the like. Readers are apt to overdo stress. Remember that real power is shown by self-restraint. Median stress is a name given to a gentle swell of the voice. It is associated with all gentle, loving, persuasive 84 SCHOOL SPEAKER feelings, and is rather felt as the absence of the abrupt radical impulse, than noticed as a decided swell. It is associated with those delicate, caressing inflections which we have described as characteristic of tender feeling. JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent ; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a cantie day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo. —Burns. Final or terminal stress is a flare or explosion of the voice at the end of the vowel instead of its beginning. It is seldom heard except in expressions of brutal or uncontrolled feelings, and is usually to be avoided rather than cultivated. "So, you will fly out! Can't you be cool, like me? — What good can passion do ? — passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate! — There, you sneer again! — don't provoke me! but you rely upon the mildness of my VOCAL POWER 85 temper — you do, you dog! you play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet take care — the patience of a saint may be overcome at last! — but mark! — I give you six hours and a half to consider of this : if you then agree, without any condi- tion, to do everything on earth that I choose, why — confound you, I may in time forgive you. — If not, zounds! don't enter the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me ; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission; I'll lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I'll disown you, I'll disinherit you, I — I'll never call you Jack again! " — Sheridan, The Rivals. A general principle governing stress and all forms of force may be stated as follows : — We expel or thrust away words expressive of unpleas- ant or repulsive things, e.g. "bah!" "pooh!" "disgust- ing!" We caress, dwell gently on, or, seemingly, draw in, words expressive of pleasant things, "beautiful!" "delicious!" "sweet and low! " Where our feelings are neutral or when our emotions are under control, we sim- ply speak with precision of accent. In Richelieu's proud reply to his king we need only so much of radical stress as shall show that he feels himself the true master : — " My liege, your anger can recall your trust, Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, Bine my coffers ; but my name, my deeds, Are royal in a land beyond your scepter." BULWER - LYTTON. Without this prompt stroke or attack of each important word, we should find it very hard to avoid a pompous swell of the voice, which would be most uncharacteristic of true dignity, but which is amusingly exemplified in the mock-heroic strains of the following : — 86 SCHOOL SPEAKER TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE [By a Miserable Wretch.] Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! Through pathless realms of space Roll on ! What though I'm in a sorry case ? What though I cannot meet my bills ? What though I suffer toothache's ills ? What though I swallow countless pills ? Never you mind ! Roll on ! Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! Through seas of inky air Roll on ! It's true I've got no shirts to wear ; It's true my butcher's bill is doe ; It's true my prospects all look blue ; But don't let that unsettle you ! Never you mind ! Roll on ! [It rolls on.~\ — W. S. Gilbert. Richelieu's vindication My liege, your anger can recall your trust, Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, Rifle my coffers ; but my name, my deeds, Are royal in a land beyond your scepter. Pass sentence on me, if you will ; — from kings VOCAL POWER 87 Lo, I appeal to Time ! Be just, my liege. I found your kingdom rent with heresies, And bristling with rebellion ; — lawless nobles And breadless serfs ; England fomenting discord ; Austria, her clutch on your dominion ; Spain Forging the prodigal gold of either Ind To armed thunderbolts. The Arts lay dead ; Trade rotted in your marts ; your armies mutinous, Your treasury bankrupt. Would you now revoke Your trust, so be it ! and T leave you, sole, Supremest Monarch of the mightiest realm, From Ganges to the icebergs. Look without, — - No foe not humbled ! Look within, — the Arts Quit, for our schools, their old Hesperides, The golden Italy ! while throughout the veins Of your vast empire flows in strengthening tides Trade, the calm health of Nations ! Sire, I know That men have called me cruel; — I am not ; I am just ! I found France rent asunder, The rich men despots, and the poor banditti ; Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple ; Brawls festering to rebellion ; and weak laws Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. I have re-created France ; and, from the ashes Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass, Civilization, on her luminous wings, Soars, phcenixlike, to Jove ! What was my art? Genius, some say ; some, Fortune ; Witchcraft some. Not so ; my art was Justice. — Arranged from Bulwer-Lyttojnt. 88 SCHOOL SPEAKER HAMLETS INSTRUCTION TO THE PLAYERS [This is an admirable study in stress. Notice the gentle, princely manner of Hamlet's admonitions, alternating with his contempt for the ranting style of " many of our players."] Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you — trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier spake my lines. Nor do not saw ( the air too much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently : for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smooth- ness. Oh ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters — to very rags — to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er doing termagant : it out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word ; the word to the action; with this special observance — that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature — to show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own image ; and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this, overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of which one must, in your allowance, o'er weigh a whole theater of others. Oh ! there be players, that I have seen play, and heard* others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, VOCAL POWER 89 neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well — they imitated humanity so abominably. — Shakespeare. PORTIA S PLEA FOR MERCY [Persuasion and enthusiasm ; median stress.] The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath ; it is twice bless'd ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown : His scepter shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings : But mercy is above this sceptered sway ; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings : It is an attribute of God himself : And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — That in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much, To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. — Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice. 90 SCHOOL SPEAKER CATILINE'S DEFIANCE [Avoid bluster even in the strongest passages.] Conscript Fathers : I do not rise to waste the night in words ; Let that Plebeian talk, 'tis not my trade ; But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs, — For Roman right, though none, it seems, dare stand To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there ! Cling to your master., judges, Romans, slaves ! His charge is false ; — I dare him to his proofs. . You have my answer. Let my actions speak ! But this I will avow, that I have scorned And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong. Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts The gates of honor on me, — turning out The Roman from his birthright ; and for what ? To fling your offices to every slave ! Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb, And, having wo and their loathsome track to the top Of this huge, moldering monument of Rome, Hang hissing at the nobler man below. Come, consecrated Lictors, from your thrones ; (To the Senate.) Fling down your scepters ; take the rod and ax, And make the murder as you make the law. Banished from Rome ! What's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe ? VOCAL POWER 91 " Tried and convicted traitor ! " Who says this? Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? Banished ! I thank you for't. It breaks my chain ! I held some slack allegiance till this hour; But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my Lords ! I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you ! here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face ! Your Consul's merciful ; — for this, all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline ! " Traitor ! " I go ; but, I return ! This — trial ! Here I devote your Senate ! I've had wrongs To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. This day's the birth of sorrow ; this hour's work Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my Lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ; all shames and crimes ; Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and ax, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. I go ; but not to leap the gulf alone. I go ; but when I come, 'twill be the burst Of ocean in the earthquake, — rolling back 92 SCHOOL SPEAKER In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well ! You build my funeral pile ; but your best blood Shall quench its flame ! Back, slaves ! I will return. — Arranged from George Croly, Catiline. CALLING A BOY IN THE MORNING Calling a boy up in the morning can hardly be classed under the head of pastimes, especially if the boy has taken a great deal of active exercise the day before. And, it is a little singular that the next hardest thing to getting a boy out of bed is getting him into it. There is rarely a mother who is a success at rousing a boy. All mothers know this ; so do their boys ; and yet the mother seems to go at it in the right way. She opens the stair door and insinuatingly calls, "Johnny." There is no response. "Johnny." Still no response. Then there is a short, sharp " John," followed a moment later by a long and em- phatic "John Henry." A grunt from the upper regions signifies that an im- pression has been made, and the mother is encouraged to add: "You'd better be down here to your breakfast, young man, before I come up there, an' give you some- thing you'll feel." This so startles the young man that he immediately goes to sleep again. This operation has to be repeated several times. A father knows nothing about this trouble. He merely opens his mouth as a soda bottle ejects its cork, and the " John Henry " that cleaves the air of that stairway goes into that boy like electricity, and pierces the deepest re- cesses of his nature. He pops out of that bed and into his clothes, and down the stairs, with a promptness that VOCAL POWER 93 is commendable. It is rarely a boy allows himself to dis- regard the paternal summons. About once a year is believed to be as often as is consistent with the rules of health. He saves his father a great many steps by his thoughtfulness. —J. M. Bailey. THE POWER OF HABIT I remember once riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls. I said to a gentleman, "What river is that, sir?" "That," he said, " is Niagara River." " Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I; "bright and fair and glassy. How far off are the rapids ? " " Only a mile or two," was the reply. " Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the water in the turbulence which it must show near the falls ? " "You will find it so, sir." And so I did find it; and the first sight of Niagara I shall never forget. Now launch your bark on that Niagara River; it is bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow ; the silver wake you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion. Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, " Young men, ahoy ! " " What is it ? " " The rapids are below you." " Ha ! ha ! we have heard of the rapids ; but we are not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore ; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the 94 SCHOOL SPEAKER land. Then on, boys ; don't be alarmed, there is no danger." " Young men, ahoy there ! " " What is it ? " "The rapids are below you." " Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff ; all things delight us. What care we for the future ! No man ever saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life while we may ; we will catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with the current." " Young men, ahoy ! " " What is it ? " " Beware ! beware ! the rapids are below you! " Now you see the water foaming all around. See how fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm ! Now turn ! Pull hard! Quick! quick! quick! pull hard for your lives ! pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins start like whipcords upon your brow ! Set the mast in the socket ! hoist the sail ! ah! ah! it is too late! "Shrieking, howling, blaspheming, over they go." Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every year through the power of habit, crying all the while, " When I find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up! " — John B. Gough. CHAPTER IX ENUNCIATION However expressive or charming the vocal delivery, it will fail to interest the audience unless they can both hear and understand what is said. Mere loudness may result only in confusion of sound, especially if there is an echo in the room. Distinctness is attained more by purity of tone and precision of utterance than by volume. The vowel sounds of the English language are as fol- lows, the order being from that made with the highest position of the tongue (e ) to that with the lowest posi- tion of the tongue (a) and the roundest shape of the lips (do) : — e — in me', see, eel. I — in ill, it, in, pity. a — in pay, say (notice the "vanish" e sound, which is always heard except when a precedes e, as in aerial'). a — in care, fair, wherefore. e — in pet, let, set, end. a — "short" or "flat" in at, hat, cat; slightly broader in man, can. a — " obscure " as in unaccented syllables, or the article a when unemphatic. Say neither u man, u horse, nor a man, a horse, unless you wish to emphasize the article. a — intermediate between a and a (a little like short 6) ask, task, fast, dance ; not fast nor feist. Generally 95 96 SCHOOL SPEAKER heard in monosyllables ending with a double consonant sound (/£, st, nee). a — father, ah, part, guard, haunt, daunt (not daunt). e-i — before r, her, mother (not " motheh"), sir, not " suh" work, verge, therefore. u — before r, urn, curse, a fuller sound than the pre- ceding. u — up, cup, until, not ontil. 6 — not, slightly broader in coffin, god, what, not whut. a — all, awe, gaudy, always, not olways. 6 — or, nor, o'er, a slightly rounded form of a, pro- nounced by some good speakers as nearly as possible like long 6, e.g. more, as if spelled mower ; by others, like a. 5 — low, so; notice the vanish oo — looo, especially when in an unaccented syllable. oo — foot, pull. 00 — food (not food), you. COMBINATIONS 1 — a'-e blent, as in my, fine. u — eob, few, mule, mute, but the e is less prominent after s, I — superior, flute, lunatic, and disappears after r, rule. ow — aob in how, row, our, not dr. oi — ae as in oil, toy, hoy. OBSCURE VOWELS In unaccented syllables the vowels are said to be obscure, that is, indefinite. On the platform we give more care to the pronunciation of obscure vowels than we need to use in colloquial speech, because distinctness is all-important ENUNCIATION 97 with the speaker ; but even then we must not overdo. People who say actor instead of actor (obscure o), the man for the man (£Ai), mispronounce as badly as those who say actur or thu. Pronouns, prepositions, connectives, and unimportant monosyllables are always obscure except when they are emphasized. In practicing the vowels, learn to sustain each sound accurately for a considerable time, until you are able to hold the lips and tongue steadily and without throatiness or nasality. In sustaining the compound vowels (except w), hold the first sound until just as you are about to finish, when you give the two together, thus : I-a-ai. With w, however, the preliminary glide is of less impor- tance than the oo sound. The student who is sufficiently advanced to use this book does not need to be told that in English the above sounds are spelled in every imagi- nable way. The consonants or articulations are formed [1] by the quick approximation and instantaneous recoil of the lips (j?, 6), the tongue and teeth (£, cT), or the back of the tongue and soft palate (&, #); [2] by the friction of breath passing over the under lip (/, v), the tongue and teeth (s, z, zh, sA, tfi), or striking the hard palate (A); [3] in a manner much like vowel formation, except that there is more consciousness of the articulating organs, /, y (practically e and i), w. Those consonants in which the sense of resonance is chiefly oral, — that is, in the mouth, — are sometimes called semi-vowels. The nasals (m, n, ng) resound in the nose. The following letters stand for combinations : ch "soft," as in chin = tsh ; j, or soft g = dzh ; q in quart = kw ; x = ks. Even in obscure syllables be sure that the consonants are distinct. In general, we need only say that the chief faults in SOU. SCH. SPEA. 7 98 SCHOOL SPEAKER enunciating the consonants are a too sluggish action of the parts, and a forced or explosive manner. The func- tion of the consonant is to give precision to the enuncia- tion. The instant a consonant is pronounced, its work is done. An eminent author (Austin, Chironomia) has told us that each word should come from the mouth like a coin fresh from the mint. The vowels may be likened to the stream of molten metal, the consonants to the die that stamps each coin and gives it individuality. In col- loquial speech too great precision is out of place, but in public speaking you cannot enunciate too distinctly. This is especially true of the final consonants, which are usu- ally either swallowed or dropped entirely by untrained speakers. In practicing to avoid this fault, it is sometimes well to do as follows : EXERCISE I [For free egress of sound.] Count up to twenty thus : one-^A, TWO-uh, three-wA, etc., with a quick dropping of the lower jaw on the uh sound. Then count one! two! etc., dropping the jaw in the same way, to let the final sound have free egress, but without the uh. Do this with all passages which offer special difficulties in articulation, and especially where the same, or similar, consonants are heard in succession, or where there is dan- ger of mistaking the sound, e.g. "the first time," not " firs time," " his beard descending," not " beer descend- ing." But see that final sounds are not unduly promi- nent, especially s, 2, and r. ENUNCIATION" 99 EXERCISE II [For control of the agents.] Use P, B, T, D, K, Gr, as follows, imitating the beat of a drum : — 1— 0—0—0 j— 0—0—0 — — \-0 — — — II I UJ I ! i I U 1 j ILLJJJ iu i Si ppppp ppppp ppppp ppp pa pa pa pa pa, etc. up up up up up, etc. pup pup pup pup pup, etc. Use at first in connection with a, u, e, I, or other short vowel, e.g. pa, ap, at, tat, up, pup, cup. Gradually elim- inate the vowel sound, but try to keep the consonant as resonant as possible. Avoid all gripping, forcing, and facial distortions in both vowels and consonants. Always practice as if trying to make some one at a dis- tance understand what you are saying. The teacher may use other musical figures. EXPRESSIVE ENUNCIATION To give full expression to words requires more than mere accuracy ; one must put life into his words. To the majority of speakers, and especially readers, words are of dead things, but to the orator, or the poet, every word * has individuality. Such words as vast, tiny, grand, noble, mean, sweet, sour, bitter, harsh, hard, soft, solemnly, gently, requiem, hate, love, justice, mercy, may be read so as to con- vey not merely the sound of the word, but something of its meaning as well. In the following examples, which 100 SCHOOL SPEAKER are excellent studies in articulation, try also to put mean- ing into the words by pitch, volume, stress, and above all, by varying tone color, that is, sound which suggests the emotion which the word conveys. Love, for instance, should have a different tone color from hate ; joj^, from sorrow. THE LAW OF SUCCESS Self-denial and discipline are the foundation of all good character, the source of all true enjoyment, the means of all just distinction. This is the invariable law of our na- ture. Excellence of every sort is a prize, and a reward for virtuous, patient, and well-directed exertion, and ab- stinence from whatever may encumber, enfeeble, or delay us in our course. The approach to its lofty abode is rightly represented as steep and rugged. He who would reach it, must task his powers. But it is a noble task, for, besides the emi- nence it leads to, it nourishes a just ambition, subdues and casts off vicious propensities, and strengthens the powers employed in its service, so as to render them con- tinually capable of higher and higher attainments. — John Sargeant. Learning condemns beyond the reach of hope The careless lips that speak of soap for soap ; Her edict exiles from her fair abode The clownish voice that utters road for road : Less stern to him who calls his coat a coat, And steers his boat, believing it a boat. She pardoned one, our classic city's boast, Who said at Cambridge, most instead of most, But knit her brows and stamped her angry foot To hear a Teacher call a root a root. ENUNCIATION" 101 Once more ; speak clearly, if you speak at all ; Carve every word before you let it fall ; Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star, Try over hard to roll the British E, ; Do put your accents in the proper spot ; Don't, — let me beg you, — don't say " How ? " for " What ? " And, when you stick on conversation's burrs, Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs. — Holmes, Urania, A Rhymed Lesson. The hours pass slowly by, — nine, ten, eleven, — how sol- emnly the last stroke of the clock floats out upon the still air. It dies gently away, swells out again in the distance, and seems to be caught up by spirit-voices of departed years, until the air is filled with melancholy strains. It is the requiem of the dying year. — Brooks. On Esek Harden's oaken floor, With many an autumn threshing worn, Lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn, And thither came young men and maids, Beneath a moon that large and low, Lit that sweet eve of long ago. They took their places ; some by chance, And others by a merry voice Or sweet smile guided to their choice. — Whittier, Mabel Martin. There once was a writer named Wright, Wmo instructed his son to write right. He said : " Boy, write Wright right ; It is not right to write Wright awry ; try to write Wright aright ! " — Carolyn Wells. THE CATARACT OF LODORE " How does the water come down at Lodore ? " My little boy asked me thus, once on a time ; 102 SCHOOL SPEAKER And, moreover, he tasked me to tell him in rhyme. Anon at the word, there first came one daughter, And then came another, to second and third The request of their brother, and to hear how the water Comes down at Lodore, with its rush and its roar, As many a time they had seen it before. So I told them in rhyme, for of rhymes I had store : And 'twas in my vocation for their recreation That so I should sing; because I was laureate to them and the king. From its sources which well in the tarn on the Fell ; From its fountains in the mountains, Its rills and its gills, through moss and through brake, It runs and it creeps for a while, till it sleeps In its own little lake. And thence at departing, Awaking and starting, it runs through the reeds, And away it proceeds, through meadow and glade, In sun and in shade, and through the wood shelter, Among crags in its flurry, helter-skelter, Hurry-skurry. Here it comes sparkling, And there it lies darkling ; now smoking and frothing Its tumult and wrath in, till in this rapid race On which it is bent, it reaches the place Of its steep descent. The cataract strong then plunges along, Striking and raging as if a war waging Its caverns and rocks among : rising and leaping, Sinking and creeping, swelling and sweeping, Showering and springing, flying and flinging, Writhing and wringing, eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, turning and twisting, ENUNCIATION 103 Around and around with endless rebound ; Smiting and fighting, a sight to delight in ; Confounding, astounding, dizzying, and deafening The ear with its sound. Collecting, projecting, receding, and speeding, And shocking and rocking, and darting and parting, And threading and spreading, and whizzing and hissing, And dripping and skipping, and hitting and splitting, And shining and twining, and rattling and battling, And shaking and quaking, and pouring and roaring, And waving and raving, and tossing and crossing, And flowing and going, and running and stunning, And foaming and roaming, and dinning and spinning, And dropping and hopping, and working and jerking, And guggling and struggling, and heaving and cleaving, And moaning and groaning ; And glittering and flittering, and gathering and feathering, And whitening and brightening, and quivering and shiv- ering, And hurrying and skurrying, and thundering and floun- dering ; Dividing and gliding and sliding, And falling and brawling and sprawling, And driving and riving and striving, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, And sounding and bounding and rounding, And bubbling and troubling and doubling, And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, And clattering and battering and shattering ; 104 SCHOOL SPEAKER Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, And thumping and pumping and bumping and jumping, And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing ; And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, And this way the water comes down at Lodore. — Robert Southey. SHE WAVED [For rapid enunciation.] It was ten minutes before train time. " You can't pass through here without a ticket, madam," said the ticket taker. "But I want to wave." " Can't help it," said the ticket taker. " Step aside and let the others pass." The diminutive woman addressed gathered herself to- gether and clutched her companion by the arm as she replied: "I've come here to wave, and I'm going to wave. This is my sister, Arimita, who has been a-visitin' me for three weeks ; and she'd been here longer if she hadn't lost flesh so fast, and I was afraid that if she staid any longer she'd get to be a livin' skeleton ; and then she was away from home, and didn't know what might happen to the children while she was gone ; so in spite of everything ENUNCIATION 105 they could do to keep her she just packed up her duds this mornin' and said she must go back home. Don't interrupt me, for I don't know when I will see Arimita again, it's so seldom that she can get away from home to visit me; and I can't get away from the city, although I'd like to ever so much, for I've only been here three months, and it's drefful hard gittin' around on the pave- ments, and I am jest mortally tired to death all the time, what with the noise and excitement and the goings on of my relatives here ; but they will have me stay, and Arimita would come too if it wasn't for the children ; but they are going to school, you know, and take so much care, Jake especially, though he is a good boy when he isn't in mischief ; and I know Arimita will be glad to get back again, though I must say I want her to stay powerful bad, and — " "Pass through!" roared the ticket taker. And as he saw the superintendent of the road in the far corner of the room glancing at him furtively out of the corner of his eye, he added, reflectively, to himself, " What's the use of trying to keep a job like this, anyway ? " THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT Behold the mansion reared by dsedal Jack ! See the malt stored in many a plethoric sack, In the proude cirque of Ivan's bivouac. Mark how the rat's felonious fangs invade The golden stores in John's pavilion laid. Anon with velvet foot and Tarquin strides, Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides — 106 SCHOOL SPEAKER Grimalkin grim that slew the fierce rodent, Whose tooth insidious Johann's sackcloth rent. Lo ! now the deep-mouthed canine foes assault, That vexed the avenger of the stolen malt, Stored in the hallowed precincts to that hall That rose complete at Jack's creative call. Here stalks the impetuous cow with crumpled horn, Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn, Who bayed the feline slaughter-beast, that slew The rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran through The textile fibers that involve the grain Which lay in Hans' inviolate domain. Here walks forlorn the damsel crowned with rue, Lactiferous spoils from vaccine dugs who drew Of that corniculate beast whose tortuous horn Tossed to the clouds, in fierce, vindictive scorn, The hurrying hound, whose braggart bark and stir Arched the lithe spine and reared the indignant fur Of Puss, that, with verminicidal claw, Struck the weird rat, in whose insatiate maw, Lay reeking malt, that erst in Juan's courts we saw. Robed in senescent garb, that seems, in sooth, Too long a prey to Chronos' iron tooth, Behold the man whose amorous lips incline, Full of young Eros' osculative sign, To the lorn maiden, whose lact-albic hands Drew albu-lactic wealth from lacteal glands Of that immortal bovine, by whose horn, Distort to realms ethereal, was borne ENUNCIATION 107 The beast Catulean, vexer of that sly Ulysses quadrupedal, who made die The old mordacious rat that dared devour Ante-cedaneous ale in John's domestic bower. Lo ! here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct Of saponaceous locks, the priest who linked In Hymen's golden bands the torn unthrift, Whose means exiguous stared from many a rift, Even as he kissed the virgin all forlorn, Who milked the cow with implicated horn, Who in fine wrath the canine torturer skied, That dared to vex the insidious muricide, Who let auroral effluence through the pelt Of the sly rat that robbed the palace Jack had built. The loud cantankerous shanghai comes at last, Whose shouts arouse the shorn ecclesiast, Who sealed the vows of Hymen's sacrament To him who, robed in garments indigent, Exosculates the damsel lachrymose, Th' emulgator of that horned brute morose That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that kilt The rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built. SEAWEED When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges, Laden with seaweed from the rocks : 108 SCHOOL SPEAKER From Bermuda's reefs ; from edges Of sunken ledges, In some far-off, bright Azore ; From Bahama, and the dashing, Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador ; From the tumbling surf, that buries The Orkneyan skerries, Answering the hoarse Hebrides ; And from wrecks of ships, and drifting Spars, uplifting On the desolate, rainy seas ; — Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless main ; Till in sheltered coves, and reaches Of sandy beaches, All have found repose again. So when storms of wild emotion Strike the ocean Of the poet's soul, erelong From each cave and rocky fastness, In its vastness, Floats some fragment of a song : From the far-off isles enchanted, Heaven has planted With the golden fruit of Truth ; From the flashing surf, whose vision Gleams Elysian In the tropic clime of Youth ; ENUNCIATION 109 From the strong Will, and the Endeavor That forever Wrestles with the tides of Fate ; From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, Tempest-shattered, Floating waste and desolate ; — Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless heart ; Till at length in books recorded, They, like hoarded Household words, no more depart. — Longfellow. CHAPTER X ORATORICAL DELIVERY An oration is a composition expressly intended for delivery before an audience, presumably of considerable numbers, and in a place large enough to accommodate such an audience. Many of the greatest masterpieces of eloquence, like Lincoln's "Gettysburg Speech" or Web- ster's " Bunker Hill Oration," were delivered in the open air to vast multitudes of people. Under such circum- stances, it is evident that the speaker's delivery must be very different from that which he would use in conversa- tion, or in an informal address to a few friends. The orator's voice must reach, if possible, to the farthest listener, and time must be given for this, or his words, which sound clear enough near at hand, will become inex- tricably jumbled on the way. Again, the speaker must articulate with the utmost dis- tinctness, being especially careful that the final sound of each word is spoken clearly and kept separate from the next. Delicate shades of inflection are inaudible under such circumstances, and the orator must rely more upon enlargement and variety of melody than upon slide. Thus the first words of Lincoln's oration, which might in con- versational delivery have a form something like this : — our score -, ago, | our fathers brought forth seven upon this continent | a new na tion. 110 ORATORICAL DELIVERY HI would be enlarged to dimensions more like the follow- ing : — .Four _p SC01 ' e and seven vpa " III our ^ H b ™S ht fortI ' | upon yedlb ago HI new ti nent III na this con 11 HI a na tion. There is no need for the speaker to shont himself hoarse. If he will speak slowly and distinctly, using a full, reso- nant voice and varying the pitch as much as possible without departing from the melody of conversation, he will have little trouble in being heard. A moderately high tone carries farther than a low one. Another prevalent fault in oratorical expression is that, in the effort to make himself understood, the speaker, if he does not shout, makes use of some sort of singsong intonation, half speech, half chant. It is undoubtedly the fact that song may be heard at a greater distance than speech, and, under extraordinary circumstances, monotone may be justifiable ; but the effect is wearisome in the extreme to the average listener. On the other hand, a bright, animated, and impressive delivery goes far toward rendering even commonplace ideas attractive. The best practice for attaining a conversational style in oratory is to read a passage first in the most colloquial manner possible, then enlarging and energizing it, but keeping as near as possible to the colloquial form. Do this with all the following selections, as well as with some of those previously studied. One of the best studies for the broader forms of oratorical inflection is Brutus's address on the death of Caesar (p. 46). 112 SCHOOL SPEAKER ORIENT YOURSELF The Germans and French have a beautiful phrase which would enrich any language that should adopt it. They say : " to orient; " or, " to orient one's self." When a traveler arrives at a strange city, or is over- taken by night or by a storm, he takes out his compass and learns which way is the East, or Orient. Forthwith all the cardinal points — east, west, north, south — take their true places in his mind, and he is in no danger of seeking for the sunset or the polestar in the wrong quarter of the heavens. He orients himself. When commanders of armies approach each other for the battle, on which the fate- of empires may depend, each learns the localities of the ground, — how best he can intrench his front or cover his flank, how best he can make a sally or repel an assault. He orients himself. When a statesman revolves some mighty scheme of administrative policy, so vast as to comprehend surround- ing nations and later times in its ample scope, he takes an inventory of his resources, he adapts means to ends, he adjusts plans and movements so that one shall not counter-work another, and he marshals the whole series of affairs for producing the grand result. He orients himself. Young man ! open your heart before me for one moment, and let me write upon it these parting words. The gra- cious God has just called you into being ; and, during the few years you have lived, the greatest lesson you have learned is, that you shall never die. All around your body the earth lies open and free, and you can go where you will ; all around your spirit the universe lies open and free, and you can go where you will. Orient yourself! ORATORICAL DELIVERY 113 Orient Youeself ! Seek frivolous and elusive pleasures if you will ; expend your immortal energies upon ignoble and fallacious joys ; but know, their end is intellectual imbecility, and the perishing of every good that can ennoble or emparadise the human heart. Obey, if you will, the law of the baser passions, — appetite, pride, self- ishness, — but know, they will scourge you into realms where the air is hot with fiery-tongued scorpions, that will sting and torment your soul into unutterable agonies ! But study and obey the sublime laws on which the frame of nature was constructed ; study and obey the sublimer laws on which the soul of man was formed ; and the full- ness of the power and the wisdom and the blessedness, with which God has filled and lighted up this resplendent universe, shall all be yours! — Horace Mann. DUTY OF THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR, Gentlemen : Thought, which the scholar represents, is life and liberty. There is no intellectual or moral life without liberty. Therefore, as a man must breathe and see before he can study, the scholar must have liberty first of all ; and as the American scholar is a man, and has a voice in his own government, so his interest in political affairs must precede all others. He must build his house before he can live in it. He must be a per- petual inspiration of freedom in politics. He must recog- nize that the intelligent exercise of political rights, which is a privilege in a monarchy, is a duty in a republic. If it clash with his ease, his taste, his study, let it clash, but let him do his duty. The course of events is incessant, but when the good deed is slighted the bad deed is done. SOU. SCH. SPEA. 8 114 SCHOOL SPEAKER Scholars, you would like to loiter in the pleasant paths of study. Every man loves his ease, loves to please his taste. But into how many homes along this lovely valley came the news of Lexington and Bunker Hill, eighty years ago, and young men like us, studious, fond of leisure, young lovers, young husbands, young brothers and sons, knew that they must forsake the wooded hillside, the river meadows, golden with harvest, the twilight walk along the river, the summer Sunday in the old church, parents, wife, and child, and go away to uncertain war. Putnam heard the call at his plow, and turned to go, without waiting. Wooster heard it, and obeyed. Not less lovely in those days was this peaceful valley, not less soft this summer air. Life was dear, and love as beautiful to those young men as it is to us who stand upon their graves. But, because they were so dear and beauti- ful, those men went out bravely to fight for them, and fall. Through these very streets they marched, who never re- turned. They fell, and were buried ; but they can never die. Not sweeter are the flowers that make your valley fair, not greener are the pines that give your river its name, than the memory of the brave men who died for freedom. Gentlemen, while we read history we make history. Because our fathers fought in this great cause, we must not hope to escape fighting. Because, two thousand years ago, Leonidas stood against Xerxes, we must not suppose that Xerxes was slain, nor, thank God, that Leonidas is not immortal. Every great crisis of human history is a pass of Thermopylae, and there is always a Leonidas and his three hundred to die in it, if they can not conquer. And, so long as Liberty has one martyr, so long as one drop of blood is poured out for her, so long from that ORATORICAL DELIVERY 115 single drop of bloody sweat of the agony of humanity shall spring hosts as countless as the forest leaves, and mighty as the sea. — George William Curtis. PATRIOTISM A man's country is not a certain area of land, — of mountains, rivers, and woods, — but it is principle; and patriotism is loyalty to that principle. In poetic minds and in popular enthusiasm this feeling becomes closely associated with the soil and symbols of the country. But the secret sane tifi cation of the soil and the symbol is the idea which they represent, and this idea the patriot worships through the name and the sym- bol, as a lover kisses with rapture the glove of his mistress and wears a lock of her hair upon his heart. So, with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never weary of tenderly telling, Arnold von Winkelried gathers ' into his bosom the sheaf of foreign spears, that his death may give life to his country. So Nathan Hale, disdaining no service that his country demands, perishes untimely, with no other friend than God and the satisfied sense of duty. So George Washington, at once comprehending the scope of the destiny to which his country was devoted, with one hand puts aside the crown, and with the other sets his slaves free. So, through all history from the be- ginning, a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely and fallen bravely for that unseen mistress, their country. So, through all history to the end, as long as men believe in God, that army must still march and fight and fall — recruited only from the flower of mankind — cheered only by their own hope of humanity — strong only in their con- fidence in their cause. — Curtis. 116 SCHOOL SPEAKER THE MISSION OF AMERICA America has abstained from interference in the concerns of others, even when the conflict has been for principles to which she clings, as to the last vital drop that visits the heart. She has seen that, probably for centuries to come, all the contests of that Aceldama, the European world, will be contests between inveterate power and emerging right. Wherever the standard of freedom and independence has been or shall be unfurled, there will her heart, her benedictions, and her prayers be. But she goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the wellwisher to the freedom and independence of all. She is the champion and vindicator only of her own. She will recommend the general cause by the countenance of her voice and the benignant sympathy of her example. She well knows that, by once enlisting under other banners than her own, were they even the banners of foreign inde- pendence, she would involve herself, beyond the power of extrication, in all the wars of interest and intrigue, of in- dividual avarice, envy, and ambition, which assume the color and usurp the standard of freedom. The funda- mental maxims of her policy would insensibly change from liberty to force. The frontlet upon her brows would no longer beam with the ineffable splendor of freedom and independence; but in its stead would soon be substituted an imperial diadem, flashing in false and tarnished luster the murky radiance of dominion and power. She might become the dictatress of the world ; she would no longer be the ruler of her own spirit. — John Quincy Adams. ORATORICAL DELIVERY 117 MY AMBITION I have been accused of ambition in presenting this measure, — inordinate ambition ! If I had thought of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I know well the perils to which I expose n^self, — the risk of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of making new ones, if any new ones could com- pensate for the loss of those we have long tried and loved ; and the honest misconception, both of friends and foes. Ambition! If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers, if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, calculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood still ; I might have silently gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left those who are charged with the care of the vessel of state to conduct it as they could. I have been heretofore often unjustly ac- cused of ambition. Low, groveling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating themselves to the higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism, beings who, forever keeping their own selfish aims in view, decide all public measures by their presumed influence on their aggrandizement, judge me by the venal rule which they prescribe to them- selves. I have given to the winds those false accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches my motives. I have no desire for office, not even for the highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless visitants, marks his weary hours,'and is cut off from the practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the people of these states, united or separated : I never wish, never expect to be. Pass this bill, tranquilize the country, restore confidence and 118 SCHOOL SPEAKER affection in the Union, and I am willing to go home to Ashland, and renounce public service forever. I should there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, amid my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, sincerity and truth, attachment and fidelity, and grati- tude, which I have not always found in the walks of public life. Yes, I have ambition ; but it is the ambition of being the humble instrument, in the hands of Provi- dence, to reconcile a divided people, once more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land, — the pleasing ambition of contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal people. — Henry Clay. CHAPTER XI GESTURE The speaker has another means at his command for arresting and directing the attention of his audience and for emphasizing his chief points. This is gesture. By- gesture we mean expressive movement, especially of the arms and head. Gesture should be reserved for emphatic passages or for those in which the author's meaning can- not be fully expressed by the voice alone. EXERCISE I PREPARATORY Standing in the first position (page 10) with the arms hanging loosely, shoulders and muscles of the neck per- fectly passive : (1) Relax the arms and shoulders com- pletely by turning the body rather sharply from left to right and back a number of times, letting the arms go where they may. (2) Raise the upper arm at the side with the forearm dangling lifelessly, and in this po- sition shake the upper arm until the forearm and hand can be thrown about freely. (See figure.) (3) Extend the arms straight out from the shoulder with the hands dangling and shake the hands in the same way, 1) at the sides, 2) in front, with palms (a) downward, (6) upward, ( village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year. Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, or wished to change, his place ; Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train ; He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; The long-remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire and talked the night away, — Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests the good man learned to glow, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 361 And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; But, in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Ak church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools who came to scoff remained to pray. The service passed, around the pious man With ready zeal each honest rustic ran ; E'en children followed, with endearing wile, And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed ; Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. WATERLOO Byron There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather 'd then 362 SCHOOL SPEAKER Her Beauty and her Chivalry: and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music rose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell ; — But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! Did ye not hear it ? — No ; — 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : On with the dance! let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till morn when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — But hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm ! arm ! it is ! — it is ! — the cannon's opening roar ! Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 363 And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips, " The foe ! they come, they come ! " And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering " rose ! The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard — and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : — How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring, which instills The stirring memory of a thousand years ; And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears. And Ardennes waves about .them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving — if aught inanimate e'er grieves — Over the unreturning brave — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass, Which now beneath them, but above shall grow . In its next verdure ; when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low ! Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay ; The midnight brought the signal sound of strife ; The. morn, the marshaling in arms ; the day, Battle's magnificently stern array ! The thunderclouds close o'er it, which, when rent, 364 SCHOOL SPEAKER The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover — heap'd and pent, Rider and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial blent ! APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN Byron There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar ; I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these, our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals ; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 365 Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, — what are they? Thy waters wasted them when they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried np realms to deserts : not so thou, Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear ; For I was, as it were, a child of thee, And trusted to th}^ billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 366 SCHOOL SPEAKER EXHORTATION TO THE GREEKS Byron Approach, thou craven, crouching slave ! Say, is not this Thermopylae ? These waters blue that round you lave, O servile offspring of the free — Pronounce what sea, what shore, is this. The gulf, the rock, of Salamis ! These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires ; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear ; And leave his sons a hope, a fame, They too will rather die than shame ; For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won. SYMPATHY WITH THE GREEKS Henry Clay And has it come to this ? Are we so humbled, so low, so debased, that we dare not express our sympathy for suffer- ing Greece, — that we dare not articulate our destestation of the brutal excesses of which she has been the bleeding victim, lest we might offend some one or more of their imperial and royal majesties ? If gentlemen are afraid MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 367 to act rashly on such a subject, suppose, Mr. Chairman, that we unite in an humble petition, addressed to their majesties, beseeching them, that of their gracious con- descension, they would allow us to express our feelings and our sympathies. How shall it run ? " We, the representatives of the free people of the United States of America, humbly approach the thrones of your imperial and royal majesties, and supplicate that, of your imperial and royal clemency," — I cannot go through the disgusting recital ! My lips have not yet learned to pronounce the sycophantic lan- guage of a degraded slave ! Are we so mean, so base, so despicable, that we may not attempt to express our horror, utter our indignation, at the most brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth or shocked high Heaven ; at the ferocious deeds of a savage and infuriated soldiery, stimulated and urged on by the clergy of a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in all the excesses of blood and butchery, at the mere details of which the heart sickens and recoils ? ' If the great body of Christendom can look on calmly and coolly whilst all this is perpetrated on a Christian people, in its own immediate vicinity, in its very presence, let us at least evince that one of its remote extremities is susceptible of sensibility to Christian wrongs, and capable of sympathy for Christian sufferings ; that in this remote quarter of the world there are hearts not yet closed against compassion for human woes, that can pour out their indignant feelings at the oppression of a people endeared to us by every ancient recollection and every modern tie. Sir, an attempt has been made to alarm the committee by the dangers to our commerce in the Mediterranean ; 368 SCHOOL SPEAKER and a wretched invoice of figs and opium has been spread before us to repress our sensibilities and to eradicate our humanity. Ah ! sir, " what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" — or what shall it avail a nation to save the whole of a miserable trade, and lose its liberties ? MARCO BOZZARIS Fitz-Greene Halleck At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk lay dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signet ring — Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ! As wild his thoughts and gay of wing As Eden's garden bird. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke — That bright dream was his last. He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! " He woke — to die, midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, And death shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band — MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 369 " Strike — till the last armed foe expires ! Strike — for your altars and your fires ! Strike — for the green graves of your sires ! God — and your native land ! " They fought — like brave men, long and well ; They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rung their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Bozzaris ! with the storied brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Rest thee — there is no prouder grave Even in her own proud clime. We tell thy doom without a sigh ; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — One of the few, the immortal names That were not born to die. THE SEPTEMBER GALE Oliver Wendell Holmes I'm not a chicken ; I have seen Full many a chill September, And though I was a youngster then, That gale I well remember ; sou. sch. spea. — 24 370 SCHOOL SPEAKER The day before, my kite string snapped, And I, my kite pursuing, The wind whisked off my palm leaf hat ; — For me two storms were brewing ! It came as quarrels sometimes do, When married folks get clashing ; There was a heavy sigh or two, Before the fire was flashing, — A little stir among the clouds, Before they rent asunder, — A little rocking of the trees, And then came on the thunder. Lord ! how the ponds and rivers boiled, And how the shingles rattled ! And oaks. were scattered on the ground, As if the Titans battled ; And all above was in a howl, And all below a clatter, — The earth was like a frying pan, Or some such hissing matter. It chanced to be our washing day, And all our things were drying : The storm came roaring through the lines, And set them all a-flying ; I saw the shirts and petticoats Go riding oft' like witches ; I lost, ah ! bitterly I wept, — I lost my Sunday breeches ! I saw them straddling through the air, Alas ! too late to win them ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 371 I saw them chase the clouds, as if The devil had been in them ; They were my darlings and my pride, My boyhood's only riches, — " Farewell, farewell," I faintly cried, — " My breeches ! O my breeches ! " That night I saw them in my dreams, How changed from what I knew them ! The dews had steeped their faded threads, The winds had whistled through them ! I saw the wide and ghastly rents Where demon claws had torn them ; A hole was in their amplest part, As if an imp had worn them. I have had many happy years, And tailors kind and clever, But those young pantaloons have gone Forever and forever ! And not till fate has cut the last Of all my earthly stitches, This aching heart shall cease to mourn My loved, my long-lost breeches ! LIBERTY AND INTELLIGENCE John C. Calhoun Society can no more exist without government, in one form or another, than man without society. It is the political, then, which includes the social, that is his nat- ural state. It is the one for which his Creator formed him, into which he is impelled irresistibly, and in which 372 SCHOOL SPEAKER only his race can exist, and all his faculties be fully devel- oped. Such being the case, it follows that any, the worst form of government, is better than anarchy ; and that in- dividual liberty or freedom must be subordinate to what- ever power may be necessary to protect society against anarchy within or destruction from without ; for the safety and well-being of society are as paramount to individual liberty, as the safety and well-being of the race is to that of individuals ; and, in the same proportion, the power necessary for the safety of society is paramount to indi- vidual liberty. On the contrary, government has no right to control individual liberty beyond what is necessary to the safety and well-being of society. Such is the bound- ary which separates the power of government and the liberty of the citizen or subject, in the political state, which, as I have shown, is the natural state of man, — the only one in which his race can exist, and the one in which he is born, lives, and dies. It follows, from all this, that the quantum of power on the part of the government, and of liberty on that of indi- viduals, instead of being equal in all cases, must neces- sarily be very unequal among different people according to their different conditions. For, just in proportion as a people are ignorant, stupid, debased, corrupt, exposed to violence within and danger without, the power neces- sary for government to possess, in order to preserve soci- ety against anarchy and destruction, becomes greater and greater, and individual liberty less and less, until the low- est condition is reached, when absolute and despotic power becomes necessary on the part of the government, and individual liberty extinct. So, on the contrary, just as a people rise in the scale of intelligence, virtue, and pa- triotism, and the more perfectly they become acquainted MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 373 with the nature of government, the ends for which it was ordered, and how it ought to be administered, and the less the tendency to violence and disorder within and danger from abroad, the power necessary for government becomes less and less, and individual liberty greater and greater. Instead, then, of all men having the same right to liberty and equality, as is claimed by those who hold that they are all born free and equal, liberty is the noble and highest reward bestowed on mental and moral development, combined with favorable circumstances. In- stead, then, of liberty and equality being born with man, — instead of all men and all classes and descriptions being equally entitled to them, — they are high prizes to be won ; and are, in their most perfect state, not only the highest reward that can be bestowed on our race, but the most difficult to be won, and, when won, the most difficult to be preserved. THE LAST LEAF Oliver Wendell Holmes I saw him once before, As he passed by the door ; And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning knife of time Cut him down, 374 SCHOOL SPEAKER Not a better man was found By the crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan ; And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, " They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has pressed In their bloom ; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady ! she is dead Long ago — That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff ; And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 375 But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, — and all that, Are so queer ! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. A CURTAIN LECTURE OF MRS. CAUDLE Douglas Jerrold Bah ! that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. — What were you to do ? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about him that could spoil. — Take cold, indeed ! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than taken our umbrella. — Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle ? I say, do you hear the rain ? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't St. $within's day! Do you hear it against the window ? Nonsense : you don't impose upon me ; you can't be asleep with such a shower as that ! Do you hear it, I say ? Oh, you do hear it ! — Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks ; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh ! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle ; don't insult me ! he return the umbrella ! Any- body would think you were born yesterday. As if any- body ever did return an umbrella ! There : do you hear it ? Worse and worse. Cats and dogs, and for six weeks : always six weeks ; and no um- 376 SCHOOL SPEAKER brella ! I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. They shan't go through such weather ; I am determined. No ; they shall stop at home, and never learn anything, the blessed creatures ! sooner than go and get wet ! And when they grow up, I wonder who they'll have to thank for knowing nothing ; who, indeed, but their father ! People who can't feel for their own children ought never to be fathers. But I know why you lent the umbrella : Oh, yes, I know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow : you knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don't tell me ; you hate to have me go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle ; no, sir ; if it comes down in buckets full, I'll go all the more. No ; and I won't have a cab ! Where do you think the money's to come from*? You've got nice high notions at that club of yours ! A cab, indeed ! Cost me sixteen pence, at least : sixteen pence ! two and eight pence ; for there's back again. Cabs, indeed ! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em ; for I'm sure you can't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property, and beggar- ing your children, buying umbrellas ! Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle ? I say, do you hear it? But I don't care; I'll go to mother's to-morrow — I will ; and what's more, I'll walk every step of the way ; and you know that will give me my death. — Don't call me a foolish woman ; it's you that's the foolish man. You know I can't wear clogs ; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a cold — it always does. But what do you care for that ? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for all you care, as I dare say I shall ; and a pretty doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 377 lend your umbrellas again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death : yes, and that's what you lent the umbrella for. Of course ! Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like this ! My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. — I needn't wear 'em then ! Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, sir ; I am not going out a dowdy to please you or anybody else. Gracious knows ! it isn't often that I step over the threshold ; indeed, I might as well be a slave at once : better, I should say ; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. Oh, that rain! if it isn't enough to break in the windows. Ugh ! I look forward with dread to to-morrow ! How I am to go to mother's, I am sure I can't tell, but if I die, I'll do it. — No, sir ; I won't borrow an umbrella : no ; and you shan't buy one. {With great emphasis.^} Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella I'll throw it into the street. Ha ! and it was only last week I had a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd have known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you ! Oh, it's all very well for you ; you can go to sleep. You've no thought of your poor patient wife, and your own dear children ; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas ! Men, indeed ! Call themselves lords of the creation ! pretty lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella ! I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me, but that's what you want : then you may go to your club, and do as you like ; and then nicely my poor dear children will be used ; but then, sir, then you'll be happy. — Oh, don't tell me ! I know you will : else you'd never have lent the umbrella ! 378 SCHOOL SPEAKER The children, dear things ! they'll be sopping wet ; for they shan't stay at home ; they shan't lose their learning ; it's all their father will leave them, I'm sure. — But they shall go to school. Don't tell me they needn't : you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the temper of an angel ; they shall go to school ! mark that : and if they get their deaths of cold, it's not my fault ; I didn't lend the umbrella. " Here," says Caudle, in his manuscript, " I fell asleep, and dreamed that the sky was turned into green calico, with whalebone ribs : that, in fact, the whole world re- volved under a tremendous umbrella ! " THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA Abridged Whittier Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array ; Who is losing? Who is winning? Are they far? Or come they near? Look abroad and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear ? " Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls ; Blood is flowing ! Men are dying ! — God have mercy on their souls ! " Who is losing? Who is winning? " Over hill and over plain, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 379 I see but smoke of cannon clouding through the mountain rain." Look forth once more, Ximena ! " Ah ! the smoke has rolled away ; And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of gray. Hark ! that sudden blast of bugles ! there the troop of Minon wheels ! There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at their heels ! " Jesu pity ! How it thickens ! Now retreat, and now advance ! Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging lance ! Down they go, the brave young riders ! horse and foot together fall : Like a plowshare in the fallow, through them plows the Northern ball ! " Lo ! the wind the smoke is lifting ! Blessed Mother ! save my brain ! I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of slain ! Now they stagger, blind and bleeding ! now they fall, and strive to rise. Hasten, sisters, haste ! and save them ! lest they die before our eyes ! ******* " Oh, my heart's love ! Oh, my dear one ! lay thy poor head on my knee ! Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee ? Canst thou hear me ? Canst thou see ? 380 SCHOOL SPEAKER Oh, my husband, brave and gentle ! Oh, my Bernal ! look once more On the blessed cross before thee ! Mercy ! mercy ! all is Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena ! lay thy dear one down to rest ; Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his breast ; Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral masses said ; To-day, thou poor bereaved one ! the living ask thy aid. Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a soldier lay, Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life away ; But as tenderly before him the lorn Ximena knelt, She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt ! With a stifled cry of horror, straight she turned away her head ! With a sad and bitter feeling, looked she back upon her dead ! But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his struggling breath of pain, And she raised the cooling water to his parching lips again ! Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand, and faintly smiled ; Was that pitying- face his mother's ? did she watch beside her child ? MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 381 All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart supplied ; With a kiss upon his forehead, " Mother ! " murmured he, and died ! " A bitter curse upon them, poor boy ! who led thee forth From some gentle, sad-eyed mother weeping lonely in the North!" Spake the mournful Mexic woman as she laid him with her dead, And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds which bled. Not wholly lost, O Father ! is this evil world of ours ! Upward through its blood and ashes spring afresh the Eden flowers ! From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity send their prayer ! And still thy white-winged angels hover daily in our air ! the courtin' James Russell Lowell Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown, An' peeked in thru the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'ith no one nigh to hender. Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted. 382 SCHOOL SPEAKER The wannut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her ! An' leetle fires danced all about The chiny on the dresser. The very room, coz she wuz in, Looked warm from floor to ceiling An' she looked full as rosy agin Ez th' apples she wuz peelin'. She heerd a foot an' knowed it, tu, A raspin' on the scraper, — All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper. He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, Some cloubtfle o' the seekle ; His heart kep' goin' pitypat, But hern went pity Zekle. An' yet she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work Ez ef a wager spurred her. " You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " " Wal, no ; I come designin' — " " To see my Ma ? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin' to-morrow's i'nin'." He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye, nuther. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 383 Sez he, " I'd better call agin ; " Sez she, " Think likely, Mister; " The last word pricked him like a pin, An' — wal, he up and kist her. When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kind o' smily round the lips An' teary round the lashes. Her blood riz quick, though, like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An' all I know is they wuz cried In meetin', come nex' Sunday. LIBERTY AND UNION Reply to Hayne Daniel Webster Me. President : I have thus stated the reasons of my dissent to the doctrines which have been advanced and maintained. I am conscious of having detained you and the Senate much too long. I was drawn into the debate, with no previous deliberation, such as is suited to the dis- cussion of so grave and important a subject. But it is a subject of which my heart is full, and I have not been willing to suppress the utterance of its spontaneous senti- ments. I cannot, even now, persuade myself to relinquish it, without expressing, once more, my deep conviction, that since it respects nothing less than the Union of the states, it is of most vital and essential importance to the public 384 SCHOOL SPEAKER happiness. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; and, although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of pre- serving liberty, when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counselor in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union might be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the con- dition of the people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratify- MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 385 ing prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies be- hind ! When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured — bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as " What is all this worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly, "Liberty first, and Union afterward " — but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, — dear to every true American heart, — Liberty and Union now and forever, one and inseparable ! TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE Wendell Phillips [The negro patriot eulogized in this oration and in the following sonnet, after freeing his country was, in violatiou of the treaty of peace, seized and con- veyed to France, where he died of starvation in a dungeon.] If I were to tell you the story of Napoleon, I should take it from the lips of Frenchmen, who find no language SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 25 386 SCHOOL SPEAKER rich enough to paint the great captain of the nineteenth century. Were I to tell you the story of Washington, I should take it from your hearts, — you, who think no marble white enough on which to carve the name of the Father of his country. But I am to tell you the story of a negro, Toussaint L'Ouverture, who has left hardly one written line. I am to glean it from the reluctant testi- mony of his enemies, men who despised him because he was a negro and a slave, hated him because he had beaten them in battle. Cromwell manufactured his own army. Napoleon, at the age of twenty-seven, was placed at the head of the best troops Europe ever saw. Cromwell never saw an army till he was forty ; this man never saw a soldier till he was fifty. Cromwell manufactured his own army — out of what? Englishmen, — the best blood in Europe. Out of the middle class of Englishmen, — the best blood of the island. And with it he conquered what? English- men, — their equals. This man manufactured his army out of what ? Out of what you call the despicable race of negroes, debased, demoralized by two hundred years of slavery, one hundred thousand of them imported into the island within four years, unable to speak a dialect intelli- gible even to each other. Yet out of this mixed, and, as you say, despicable mass he forged a thunderbolt, and hurled it at what ? At the proudest blood in Europe, the Spaniard, and sent him home conquered ; at the most war- like blood in Europe, the French, and put them under his feet ; at the pluckiest blood in Europe, the English, and they skulked home to Jamaica. Now, if Cromwell was a general, at least this man was a soldier. Now, blue-eyed Saxon, proud of your race, go back with me to the commencement of the century, and select what MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 387 statesman you please. Let him be either American or European ; let him have a brain the result of six genera- tions of culture ; let him have the ripest training of uni- versity routine ; let him add to it the better education of practical life ; crown his temples with the silver locks of seventy years, and show me the man of Saxon lineage for whom his most sanguine admirer will wreathe a laurel, rich as embittered foes have placed on the brow of this negro, — rare military skill, profound knowledge of human nature, content to blot out all party distinctions, and trust a state to the blood of its sons, — anticipating Sir Robert Peel fifty years, and taking his station by the side of Roger Williams, before any Englishman or American had won the right; and yet this is the record which the history of rival states makes up for this inspired black of St. Domingo. Some doubt the courage of the negro. Go to Haiti, and stand on those fifty thousand graves of the best soldiers France ever had, and ask them what they think of the negro's sword. I would call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his way to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. This man never broke his word. I would call him Crom- well, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he founded went down with him into his grave. I would call him Washington, but the great Virginian held slaves. This man risked his empire rather than permit the slave trade in the humblest village of his dominions. You think me a fanatic, for you read history, not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of history will put Phocion for the Greek, Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, choose Washington as 388 SCHOOL SPEAKER the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint L'Ouverture, TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE Wordsworth Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men ! Whether the all- cheering sun be free to shed His beams around thee, or thou rest thy head Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den. O miserable chieftain ! where and when Wilt thou find patience ? Yet die not ; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow : Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee : air, earth, and skies. There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind. OLD FEZZIWIG S BALL Charles Dickens Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands ; adjusted his capacious waistcoat ; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence ; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice : MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 389 " Yo lio, there, Ebenezer ! Dick ! Yo ho, my boys ! No' more work to-night. Christmas eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer ! Let's have the shutters np, before a man can say Jack Robinson ! Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here ! " Clear away ! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore ; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire ; and the warehouse was as snug and warm and dry and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see upon a winter's night. In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomachaches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the house- maid, with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend the milkman. In they all came one after another ; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling ; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once ; hands half round and back again the other way ; down the middle and up again ; round and round in various stages of affectionate group- ing ; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place ; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there ; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was brought about, old 390 SCHOOL SPEAKER Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, " Well done ! " and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter especially provided for that purpose. There were more dances, then there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck up " Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too ; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them ; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with ; people who ivould dance, and had no notion of walking. But if they had been twice as many, — four times, — old Fezziwig would have been a match for them and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would become of 'em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance, — advance and retire, turn your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place, — Fezziwig "cut," — cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs. When the clock struck eleven this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to them ; and thus MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 391 the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds which were under a counter in the back shop. MR. WINKLE ON SKATES From the Pickwick Papers Charles Dickens " Now," said Wardle, " what say you to an hour on the ice ? You skate, of course, Winkle ? " " Ye — yes ; oh, yes ; " replied Mr. Winkle. " I — am rather out of practice." " Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. " I like to see it so much." " Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady. A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was ' ; swanlike." " I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening ; " but I have no skates." This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more, downstairs ; whereat Mr. Winkle ex- pressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncom- fortable. Old Wardle led the way to a pretty, large sheet of ice ; where Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexter- ity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvelous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight ; and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies : which reached a pitch of posi- 392 SCHOOL SPEAKER tive enthusiasm, when old War die and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions which they called a reel. All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assist- ance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet. " Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone ; " off with you, and show 'em how to do it." " Stop, Sam, stop ! " said Mr. Winkle, trembling vio- lently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. " How slippery it is, Sam ! " "Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Hold up, sir ! " This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the back of his head on the ice. " These — these — are very awkward skates ; a'n't they, Sam ? " inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. "I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam. " Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter. " Come ; the ladies are all anxiety." " Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile, " I'm coming." MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 393 " Just a-goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to dis- engage himself. " Now, sir, start off ! " " Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately to Mr. Weller. " I find I've got a couple of coats at home, that I don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam." " Thankee, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. " You needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this afternoon, Sam." " You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Just hold me at first, Sam ; will you ? " said Mr. Winkle. " There — that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and uns wanlike manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite bank : — " Sam ! " " Sir ? " said Mr. Weller. " Here. I want you." " Let go, sir," said Sam. " Don't you hear the governor a-callin' ? Let go, sir. " With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian ; and, in so doing, administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dex- terity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the center of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing 394 SCHOOL SPEAKER a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; but anguish was depicted on every line of his countenance. Mr. Pickwick beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates off." " No ; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle. " Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly. The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it, in silence. " Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise. Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the by- standers ; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words : — " You're a humbug, sir." " A what ? " said Mr. Winkle, starting. " A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir." With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoined his friends. OUR REPUBLIC Everett We are summoned to new energy and zeal by the high nature of the experiment we are appointed in Providence to make, and the grandeur of the theater on which it is to MISCELLANEOUS SELECTION'S 395 be performed. At a moment of deep and general agita- tion in the Old World, it pleased Heaven to open this new continent, as a last refuge of humanity. The attempt has begun, and is going on, far from foreign corruption, on the broadest scale, and under the most benignant prospects ; and it certainly rests with us to solve the great problem in human society ; to settle, and that forever, the mo- mentous question, whether mankind can be trusted with a purely popular system of government? One might almost think, Avithout extravagance, that the departed wise and good, of all places and times, are look- ing down from their happy seats to witness what shall now be done by us ; that they who lavished their treasures and their blood, of old, who spake and wrote, who labored, fought, and perished, in the one great cause of freedom and truth, are now hanging, from their orbs on high, over the last solemn experiment of humanity. As I have wan- dered over the spots once the scene of their labors, and mused among the prostrate columns of their senate houses and forums, I have seemed almost to hear a voice from the tombs of departed ages, from the sepulchers of the nations which died before the sight. They exhort us, they adjure us, to be faithful to our trust. They implore us, by the long trials of struggling humanity ; by the blessed memory of the departed ; by the dear faith which has been plighted by pure hands to the holy cause of truth and man ; by the awful secrets of the prison house, where the sons of freedom have been immured ; by the noble heads which have been brought to the block ; by the wrecks of time, by the eloquent ruins of nations ; they conjure us not to quench the light which is rising on the world. Greece cries to us by the con- vulsed lips of her poisoned, dying Demosthenes ; and 396 SCHOOL SPEAKER Rome pleads with us in the mute persuasion of her man- gled Tully. BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC Julia Ward Howe Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword, His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling camps ; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, His days are marching on. I have read a fiery Gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : " As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal ; Let the Hero born of woman crush the serpent with His heel, Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat ; O, be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant my feet ! Our God is marching on. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 397 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me ; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. DE QUINCY'S DEED Homer Greene Red on the morn's rim rose the sun ; Bright on the field's breast lay the dew ; Soft fell the light on saber and gun Grasped by the brave and true. Death to many, and fame to the one Came ere the day was through. " Straight to the hilltop ! Who's there first, We or the foe, shall win this day." So spake De Quincy. Then, like a burst Of splendor, he led the way ; He and his white steed both a thirst For the mad sport of the fray. " Charge ! " What a wild leap ! One bright mass Whirls, like a storm cloud, up the hill ; Hoofs in a fierce beat bruise the grass, Clang of the steel rings shrill ; Eyes of the men flash fire as they pass, Hearts in the hot race thrill. See! From an open cottage lane Sallies a child, where the meadow dips ; Only a babe, with the last refrain 398 SCHOOL SPEAKER Of the mother's song on its lips ; Straight in the path of the charging train, Fearless, the little one trips. Under the iron hoofs ! Whose the fault ? Killed ? It is naught if the day be won. On ! to the — " Halt ! " How he thunders it ! " Halt ! " What has De Quincy done ? Checked in a moment the quick assault, Struck back saber and gun. " Back ! " till the horses stand pawing the air, Throwing their riders from stirrup to mane ; Down from his saddle he bends, to where The little one fronts the train ; Lifts her with care, till her golden hair Falls on his cheek like rain. Bears her from harm as he would his child, Kisses and leaves her, with vanquished fears, Thunders his " Forward ! " and sees the wild Surge of his troops through tears. The fight ? Did they win it ? Aye ! victory smiled On him and his men for years. UNITED IN DEATH Anonymous There was no fierceness in the eyes of those men now, as they sat face to face 'on the bank of the stream ; the strife and the anger had all gone now, and they sat still, — dying men, who but a few hours before had been MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 399 deadly foes, — sat still, and looked at each other. At last one of them spoke, " We haven't either of us a chance to hold out much longer, I judge." "No," said the other, with a little mixture of sadness and reckless- ness, " you did that last job of yours well, as that bears witness," and he pointed to a wound a little above the heart, from which the lifeblood was slowly oozing. " Not better than you did yours," answered the other, with a grim smile, and he pointed to a wound a little higher up, larger and more ragged, — a deadly wound. Then the two men gazed upon each other again in the dim light ; for the moon had come over the hills now, and stood among the stars like a pearl of great price. And as they looked, a soft feeling stole over the heart of each toward his fallen foe, — a feeling of pity for the strong, manly life laid low, a feeling of regret for the inexorable necessity of war, which made each man the slayer of the other ; and at last one spoke, " There are some folks in the world that'll feel worse when you are gone out of it." A spasm of pain was on the bronzed, ghastly features. " Yes," said the man, in husky tones, " there's one woman with a bo}^ and girl, away up among the New Hampshire mountains, that it will well-nigh kill to hear of this : " and he groaned out in bitter anguish, " O God, have pity on my wife and children ! " The other drew closer to him : " And away down among the cotton fields of Georgia, there's a woman and a little girl whose hearts will break when they hear what this day has done ; " and then the cry wrung itself sharply out of his heart, " O God, have pity upon them ! " From that moment the Northerner and the Southerner ceased to be foes. The thought of those distant homes on which the anguish was 400 SCHOOL SPEAKER to fall drew them closer together in that last hour, and the two men wept like little children. At last the Northerner spoke, talking more to himself than to any one else, and he did not know that the other was listening greedily to every word : " She used to come, — my little girl, bless her heart ! — every night to meet me when I came home from the fields; and she would stand under the great plum tree that's just beyond the back door at home, with the sunlight making yellow brown in her golden curls, and the laugh dancing in her eyes when she heard the click of the gate, — I see her now, — and I'd take her in my arms, and she'd put up her little red lips for a kiss ; but my little darling will never watch under the old plum tree by the well for her father again. I shall never hear the cry of joy as she catches a glimpse of me at the gate. I shall never see her little feet running over the grass to spring into my arms again ! " " Then," said the Southerner, " there's a little brown- eyed, brown-haired girl, that used to watch in the cool afternoons for her father, when he rode in from his visit to the* plantations. I can see her sweet little face shining out now, from the roses that covered the pillars, and hear her shouts of joy as I bounded from my horse, and chased the little flying feet up and down the veranda again." The Northerner drew near to the Southerner, and spoke now in a husky whisper, for the eyes of the dying men were glazing fast : " We have fought here, like men, to- gether. We are going before God in a little while. Let us forgive each other." The Southerner tried to speak, but the sound died away in a murmur from his white lips; but he took the hand of his fallen foe, and his stiffening fingers closed over it, and his last look was a smile of for- giveness and peace. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 401 When the next morning's sun walked up the gray stairs of- the dawn, it looked clown and saw the two foes lying dead, with their hands clasped, by the stream which ran close to the battlefield ; and the little girl with golden hair, that watched under the plum tree, among the hills of New Hampshire, and the little girl with bright brown hair, that waited by the roses, among the green fields of Georgia, were fatherless. DEDICATION OF GETTYSBURG CEMETERY Abraham Lincoln Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation — or any nation so conceived and so dedicated — can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting place of those who have given their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have conse- crated it, far above our power to add or to detract. The world will very little note nor long remember what we say here ; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated, here, to the unfinished work that they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to sou. sen. spea. — 26 402 SCHOOL SPEAKER the great task remaining before us ; that from these hon- ored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion ; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain ; that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. DECORATION DAY Abridged W. Bourke Cochran The character of a nation is often known by its festivals. The character of the festival we celebrate to-day is the most unique in the history of the world. We celebrate in all its entirety the sublime epoch when fidelity to the republic triumphed over the dangers that comprised the Civil War, and we emerged from the conflict radiant with the light of liberty established and indestructible Ameri- can institutions with the undying vigor of American patriotism. The conflict in which we engaged was not made by the generation in which we live. It was a legacy handed down by the fathers of the republic after the foreign invader had been driven out. But the Union soldier was great in peace as well as in war. His was not merely a triumph of arms ; it was a triumph of heart and mind, for the Union soldier won the love of the foe that he vanquished. To-day, throughout the length and breadth of the country, there is a love for the flag of the Union. To-day the Union stands not defended by armed force or by frowning fortresses. Its foundations are laid in the hearts of our citizens, South MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 403 as well as North, and it will be durable and eternal because of that foundation. But although the vigor of the Union soldier in taking up arms was creditable to him, he also deserves credit for the manner in which he laid down his arms. Never before did a victorious army so lay down its arms at the behest of civil rulers without the slightest disturbance throughout the length and breadth of the land. The lesson which this day teaches above all others is that no matter what difficulties may arise, the patriotism of this republic will be able to surmount them. No matter what dangers may threaten our institutions, there is always to be in reserve the American patriotism suffi- cient to solve every question and surmount every difficulty. The victory of the Union soldiers proved the capacity and the power of this patriotism which underlies American citizenship. No sooner had the smoke lifted from Southern battlefields ; no sooner had the rivers that had run red with blood once more resumed their course clear and pel- lucid to the sea, and the South was seen humbled, than the men of the North turned with charity and brotherly love to the aid of the men with whom they had fought. The victory which was achieved for the Union was thus made a permanent one for the union of these states. The lesson of the Union was not ended in 1865. The mission of the Union soldier did not close with the war. It continues to-day as a patriotism which is the best security of the government. We are reminded of the survivors as we turn to-day from the graves of the brave men who were the heroes of the war. On the Capitol at Washington, surmounting the great dome where Congress is in session, there may be seen a bright light high above all else on the building. And as 404 SCHOOL SPEAKER you recede from the place, and the turrets and fluted columns of the edifice disappear in the darkness, the light at the top seems to be higher and higher, and finally seems to blend with the horizon until Anally only this light marks the temple of freedom of our beloved government. And, as we celebrate this Decoration Day, looking back on the martyrs of the Civil War, their deeds shall be to us the brilliant light which shall grow ever brighter and brighter, and illumine the pathway of the republic to liberty, pros- perity, and happiness. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY F. M. Finch By the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep on the ranks of the dead : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the one, the Blue, Under the other, the Gray. These in the robings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the laurel, the Blue, Under the willow, the Gray. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 405 From the silence of sorrowful hours, Ihe desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers, Alike for the friend and the foe : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the roses, the Blue, Under the lilies, the Gray. So, with an equal splendor, The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender, On the blossoms blooming for all : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Broidered with gold, the Blue, Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the Summer calleth, On forest and field of grain, With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment clay ; Wet with the rain, the Blue, Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done ; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won : — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; 406 SCHOOL SPEAKER Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray No more shall the war cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red ; They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead ! Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Love and tears for the Blue, Tears and love for the Gray. Lincoln's second inaugural address March 4, 1865 Condensed Fellow-countrymen : At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occa- sion for an extended address than there was at the first. At the expiration of four years, during which public declarations ■ have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil Avar. All dreaded it, all sought to avoid it. Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came. One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 407 the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a pe- culiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, per- petuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union b} r war, while the government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease, or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayer of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. Woe unto the w^orlcl because of offenses, for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh. If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of these offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern there any de- parture from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him ? Fondly do we hope, fervently do Ave pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it 408 SCHOOL SPEAKER continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and nfty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so, still it must be said, that the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among our- selves and with all nations. O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN ! On the death of Lincoln Walt Whitman O Captain, my Captain ! our fearful trip is done ; The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won ; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel - grim and daring ; But, O heart, heart, heart ! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead. O Captain, my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells ; Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 409 For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning ; Here, Captain, dear father ! this arm beneath jout head ! It is some dream that on the deck, you've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still ; My Captain does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will ; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage is closed and done ; From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won ; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells ! but I with mournful tread Walk the deck where my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead. ABRAHAM LINCOLN From London Punch Tom Taylor You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier, You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, Broad for the self-complacent British sneer, His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair, His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, His lack of all we prize as debonair, Of power or will to shine, of art to please? You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, Judging each step as though the way was plain ; Reckless, so it could point its paragraph, Of chief's perplexity or people's pain, — 410 SCHOOL SPEAKER Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, Between the mourners at his head and feet, Say, scurrile jester, is there room for you? Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer, To lame my pencil and confute my pen ; To make me own this hind, of princes peer, This rail splitter, a true-born king of men. My shallow judgment I had learned to rue, Noting how to occasion's height he rose ; How his quaint wit made home truth seem more true ; How, ironlike, his temper grew by blows ; How humble, yet how hopeful he could be ; How in good fortune and in ill the same ; Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he, Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. He went about his work, such work as few Ever had laid on head and heart and hand, As one who knows, where there's a task to do, Man's honest will must heaven's good grace command. So he went forth to battle, on the side That he felt clear was Liberty's and Bight's, As in his peasant boyhood he had plied His warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights : The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, The iron bark that turns the lumberer's ax, The rapid that o'erbears the boatman's toil, The prairie hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 411 The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear, Such were the deeds that helped his youth to train ; Rough culture, but such trees large fruit may bear, If but their stocks be of right girth and grain. So he grew up, a destined work to do, And lived to do it ; four long, suffering years, 111 fate, ill feeling, ill report lived through, And then he heard the hisses change to cheers, The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise, And took both with the same unwavering mood, Till, as he came on light, from darkling days, And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood, A felon hand, between the goal and him, Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest, And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest. The words of mercy were upon his lips, Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men. The Old World and the New, from sea to sea, Utter one voice of sympathy and shame. Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high ! Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came ! A deed accursed ! Strokes have been struck before By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt If more of horror or disgrace they bore ; But thy foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out. 412 SCHOOL SPEAKER Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife, Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven, And with the martyr's crown crownest a life With much to praise, little to be forgiven. TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN Emilio Castelar The Puritans are the patriarchs of liberty ; they opened a new world on the earth; they opened a new path for the human conscience ; they created a new society. Yet, when England tried to subdue them and they conquered, the Republic triumphed and slavery remained. Washing- ton could emancipate only his own slaves. Franklin said that the Virginians could not invoke the name of God, retaining slavery. Jay said that all the prayers America sent up to heaven for the preservation of liberty while sla- very continued were mere blasphemies. Mason mourned over the payment his descendants must make for this great crime of their fathers. Jefferson traced the line where the black wave of slavery should be stayed. Nevertheless, slavery increased continually. I beg that you will pause a moment to consider the man who cleansed this terrible stain which obscured the stars of the Ameri- can banner. I beg that you will pause a moment, for his immortal name has been invoked for the perpetuation of slavery. Ah ! the past century has not, the century to come will not have, a figure so grand, because as evil dis- appears so disappears heroism also. I have often contemplated and described his life. Born in a cabin of Kentucky, of parents who could hardly read ; born a new Moses in the solitude of the desert, where MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 413 are forged all great and obstinate thoughts, monotonous like the desert, and, like the desert, -sublime ; growing up among those primeval forests, which, with their fragrance, send a cloud of incense, and, with their murmurs, a cloud of prayers to heaven ; a boatman at eight years in the im- petuous current of the Ohio, and at seventeen in the vast and tranquil w T aters of the Mississippi ; later, a woodman, with ax and arm felling the immemorial trees, to open a way to unexplored regions for his tribe of wandering workers ; reading no other book than the Bible, the book of great sorrows and great hopes, dictated often by prophets to the sound of fetters they dragged through Nineveh and Babylon ; a child of Nature, in a word, by one of those miracles only comprehensible among free peoples, he fought for the country, and was raised by his fellow-citizens to the Congress at Washington, and by the nation to the presidency of the Republic ; and when the evil grew more virulent, when those states were dissolved, when the slaveholders uttered their war cry and the slaves their groans of despair — the wood cutter, the boatman, the son of the great West, the descendant of Quakers, humblest of the humble before his conscience, great- est of the great before history, ascends the Capitol, the greatest moral height of our time, and strong and serene with his conscience and his thought ; before him a veteran army, hostile Europe behind him, England favor- ing the South, France encouraging reaction in Mexico, in his hands the riven country ; he arms two millions of men, gathers a half million of horses, sends his artillery twelve hundred miles in a week, from the banks of the Potomac to the shores of Tennessee ; fights more than six hundred battles ; renews before Richmond the deeds of Alexander, of Caesar ; and, after having emancipated three million 414 SCHOOL SPEAKER slaves, that nothing might be wanting, he dies in the very moment of victory — like Christ, like Socrates, like all redeemers, at the foot of his work. His work ! Sublime achievement ! over which humanity shall eternally shed its tears, and God his benedictions ! SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH Arthur Hugh Clough Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field. For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light ; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 415 RING OUT, WILD BELLS Tennyson Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light ; The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; The year is going ; let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife ; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times ; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride, in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. 416 SCHOOL SPEAKER Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold, Ring out the thousand woes of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land. Ring in the Christ that is to be. THE YARN OB" THE "NANCY BELL " W. S. Gilbert 'Twas on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone on a piece of stone An elderly naval man. His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he, And I heard this wight on the shore recite In a singular minor key : " Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig ! " And he shook his fists, and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said : MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 417 " Oil, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be " At once a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig." " 'Twas iri the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me. " And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the Nancy's men Said ' Here ! ' to the muster roll. " There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite And the crew of the captain's gig. " For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot The captain for our meal. " The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, And a delicate dish he made ; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed. SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 27 418 SCHOOL SPEAKER "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig, Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig. " Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle ? ' arose, And we argued it out as sich. " For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshiped me ; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see. " ' I'll be eat if you dines of me,' says Tom ; 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.' 'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I ; And ' Exactly so,' quoth he. " Says he, ' Dear James, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me, While I can — and will — cook " So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shallot And some sage and parsley too. " ' Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, ' 'Twill soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 419 " And lie stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth — When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And — as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see. " And I never grieve, and I never smile, And I never larf nor play, But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have — which is to say : " Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig ! " CAUGHT IN THE QUICKSAND Victor Hugo It sometimes happens that a man, traveler or fisherman, walking on the beach at low tide, far from the bank, sud- denly notices that for several minutes he has been walking with some difficulty. The strand beneath his feet is like pitch ; his soles stick in it ; it is sand no longer ; it is glue. The beach is perfectly dry, but at every step he takes, as soon as he lifts his foot, the print which it leaves fills with water. The eye, however, has noticed no change ; the immense strand is smooth and tranquil ; all the sand 420 SCHOOL SPEAKER has the same appearance ; nothing distinguishes the sur- face which is solid from that which is no longer so ; the joyous little crowd of sand flies continue to leap tumultu- ously over the wayfarer's feet. The man pursues his way, goes forward, inclines to the land, endeavors to get nearer the upland. He is not anxious. Anxious about what? Only he feels, somehow, as if the weight of his feet increases with every step he takes. Suddenly he sinks in. He sinks in two or three inches. Decidedly he is not on the right road ; he stops to take his bearings ; now he looks at his feet. They have disappeared. The sand covers them. He draws them out of the sand ; he will retrace his steps. He turns back, he sinks in deeper. The sand comes up to his ankles ; he pulls himself out and throws himself to the left — the sand half -leg deep. He throws himself to the right ; the sand comes up to his knees. Then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has beneath him the terrible medium in which man can no more walk than the fish can swim. He throws off his load if he has one, lightens himself as a ship in distress ; it is already too late. He calls, he waves his hat or his handkerchief ; the sand gains on him more and more. He feels that he is being swallowed up. He howls, implores, cries to the clouds, despairs. Behold him waist deep in the sand. The sand reaches his breast; he is 1 now only a bust. He raises his arms, utters furious groans, clutches the beach with his nails, would hold by that straw, leans upon his elbows to pull himself out of this soft sheath ; sobs f renziedly ; the sand rises ; the sand reaches his shoulders ; the sand reaches his neck ; the face alone is visible now. The mouth cries, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 421 the sand fills it — silence. The eyes still gaze, the sand shuts them — night. Now the forehead decreases, a little hair flutters above the sand ; a hand comes to the surface of the beach, moves, and shakes, disappears. Sinister eff acement of a man ! NATIONAL MORALITY Beecher The crisis has come. By the people of this generation, by ourselves, probably, the amazing question is to be de- cided : whether the inheritance of our fathers shall be preserved or thrown away ; whether our Sabbaths shall be a delight or a loathing ; whether the taverns, on that holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, or the sanctu- ary of God with humble worshipers ; whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and poverty our dwell- ings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land ; or whether industry and temperance and righteousness shall be the stability of our times ; whether mild laws shall re- ceive the cheerful submission of freemen, or the iron rod of a tyrant compel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceived. Our rocks and hills will remain till the last conflagration. But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the worship of God be abandoned, the gov- ernment and religious instruction of children be neglected, and the streams of intemperance be permitted to flow, and her glory will depart. The Avail of fire will no longer surround her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her defense. The hand that overturns our laws and temples is the hand of death, unbarring the gate of pan- demonium, and letting loose upon our land the crimes and miseries of hell. , 422 SCHOOL SPEAKER If the Most High should stand aloof, and cast not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it would seem to be full of superlative woe. But he will not stand aloof. As we shall have begun an open controversy with him, he will contend openly with us. And never, since the earth stood, has it been so fearful a thing for nations to fall into the hands of the living God. The day of vengeance is at hand. The day of judgment has come. The great earthquake which sinks Babylon is shaking the nations, and the waves of the mighty com- motion are dashing upon every shore. Is this, then, a time to remove the foundations, when the earth itself is shaken ? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, when the hearts of men are failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are to come upon the earth? Is this a time to run upon his neck and the thick bosses of his buckler, when the nations are drinking blood, and fainting, and passing away in his wrath ? Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith, when his arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain? to cut from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting, and the sea and the waves are roaring, and thunders are uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the heavens, and the great hail is falling from heaven upon men, and every mountain, sea, and island, is fleeing in dismay from the face of an incensed God ? THE MUSIC GRINDERS O. W. Holmes There are three ways in which men take One's money from his purse, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 423 And very hard it is to tell Which of the three is worse ; But all of them are bad enough To make a body curse. You're riding out some pleasant day, And counting up your gains ; A fellow jumps from out a bush, And takes your horse's reins, Another hints some words about A bullet in your brains. It's hard to meet such pressing friends In such a lonely spot ; It's very hard to lose your cash, But harder to be shot ; And so you take your wallet out, Though you would rather not. Perhaps you're going out to dine, — Some filthy creature begs You'll hear about the cannon ball That carried off his pegs, And says it is a dreadful thing For men to lose their legs. He tells you of his starving wife, His children to be fed, Poor little, lovely innocents, All clamorous for bread, — And so you kindly help to put A bachelor to bed. You're sitting on your window seat, Beneath a cloudless moon; 424 SCHOOL SPEAKER You hear a sound, that seems to wear The semblance of a tune, As if a broken fife should strive To drown a cracked bassoon. And nearer, nearer still, the tide Of music seems to come, There's something like a human voice, And something like a drum ; You sit in speechless agony, Until your ear is numb. Poor " home, sweet home " should seem to be A very dismal place ; Your " auld acquaintance " all at once Is altered in the face ; Their discords sting through Burns and Moore, Like hedgehogs dressed in lace. You think they are crusaders, sent From some infernal clime, To pluck the eyes of Sentiment, And dock the tail of Rhyme, To crack the voice of Melody, And break the legs of Time. But hark! the air again is still, The music all is ground, And silence, like a poultice, comes To heal the blows of sound; It cannot be, — it is, — it is, — A hat is going round! No! Pay the dentist when he leaves A fracture in your jaw, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 425 And pay the owner of the bear, That stunned you with his paw, And buy the lobster that has had Your knuckles in his claw ; But if you are a portly man, Put on your fiercest frown, And talk about a consta~ble To turn them out of town ; Then close your sentence with an oath, And shut the window down! And if you are a slender man, Not big enough for that, Or, if you cannot make a speech, Because you are a flat, Go very quietly and drop A button in the hat ! NATURE A HARD CREDITOR Thomas Carlyle Nature admits no lie. Most men profess to be aware of this, but few in any measure lay it to heart. Except in the departments of mere material manipulation, it seems to be taken practically as if this grand truth were merely a polite flourish of rhetoric. Nature keeps silently a most exact savings bank and official register, correct to the most evanescent item, debtor and creditor, in respect to one and all of us ; silently marks down, creditor by such and such an unseen act of veracity and heroism ; debtor to such a loud, blustery blunder, twenty-seven million strong or one unit strong, and to all acts and 426 SCHOOL SPEAKER words and thoughts executed in consequence of that, — debtor, debtor, debtor, day after day, rigorously as fate (for this is fate that is writing) ; and at the end of the account you will have it all to pay, my friend ; — there is the rub ! Not the infinitesimalest fraction of a farthing but will be found marked there, for you and against you ; and with the due rate of interest you will have to pay it, neatly, completely, as sure as you are alive. You will have to pay it even in money, if you live : and, poor slave, do you think there is no payment but in money ? There is a payment which nature rigorously exacts of men, and also of nations, — and this I think when her wrath is sternest, — in the shape of dooming you to possess money : — to possess it ; , to have your bloated vanities fostered into monstrosity by it ; your foul passions blown into explosion by it ; your heart, and, perhaps, your very stomach, ruined with intoxication by it ; your poor life, and all its manful activities, stunned into frenzy and comatose sleep by it ; — in one word, as the old prophets said, your soul forever lost by it : your soul, so that through the eternities you shall have no soul, or manful trace of ever having had a soul ; but only, for certain fleeting moments, shall have had a money bag, and have given soul and heart, and (frightfuler still) stomach itself, in fatal exchange for the same. You wretched mortal, stumbling about in a God's temple, and thinking it a brutal cookery shop ! Nature, when her scorn of a slave is divinest, and blazes like the blinding lightning against his slavehood, often enough flings him a bag of money, silently saying : " That ! Away ; thy doom is that ! " MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 427 ENGLAND'S TRUE GREATNESS John Bright I believe there is no permanent greatness to a nation except it be based upon morality. I clo not care for mili- tary greatness or military renown. I care for the condi- tion of the people among whom I live. Palaces, baronial castles, great halls, stately mansions, do not make a nation. The nation in every country dwells in the cot- tage ; and unless the light of your constitution can shine there, unless the beauty of your legislation and the excellence of your statesmanship are impressed there on the feelings and condition of the people, rely upon it you have yet to learn the duties of government. The most ancient of profane historians has told us that the Scythians of his time were a very warlike people, and that they elevated an old scimeter upon a platform as a symbol of Mars. To this scimeter they offered more costly sacrifices than to all the rest of their gods. I often ask myself whether we are at all advanced in one respect beyond the Scythians. What are our contributions to charity, to education, to morality, to religion, to justice, and to civil government, when compared with the wealth we expend in sacrifices to the old scimeter ? We are assured, however, that Rome pursued a policy similar to ours for a period of eight centuries, and that for those eight centuries she remained great. But what is Rome now ? The great city is dead. A poet has de- scribed her as "the lone mother of dead empires." Her language even is dead. Her very tombs are empty ; the ashes of her most illustrious citizens are dispersed. " The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now." Yet, I am asked, 428 SCHOOL SPEAKER I who am one of the legislators of a Christian country, to measure my policy by the policy of ancient and pagan Rome ! May I ask you to believe, as I do most devoutly believe, that the moral law was not written for men alone in their individual character, but that it was written as well for nations, and for nations great as this of which we are citizens. If nations reject and deride that moral law, there is a penalty that will inevitably follow. It may not come at once, it may not come in our lifetime, but rely upon it, the great Italian is not a poet only, but a prophet, when he says : " The sword of heaven is not in haste to' smite, nor doth it linger." We have experience, we have beacons, we have landmarks enough. It is true, we have not, as an ancient people had, Urim and Thummim, those oracular gems on Aaron's breast, from which to take counsel, but w r e have the unchangeable and eternal principles of the moral law to guide us, and only so far as we walk by that guidance can we be permanently a great nation, or our people a happy people. HOW I EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER By permission. Copyright, 1875, by S. C. Clemens S. C. Clemens (Mark Twain) I did not take the temporary editorship of an agri- cultural paper without misgivings. But I was in circum- stances that made the salary an object. On the way to the office, the morning after we went to press, I found people standing here and there in the street, watching me with interest. I heard a man say, "Look at his eye ! " I pretended not to observe the notice I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 429 Presently an old gentleman entered. He seemed to have something on his mind. He set his hat on the floor, and got out a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our paper. He put the paper on his lap, and, while he polished his spectacles with his handkerchief, he said, " Are you the new editor? " I said I was. " Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before ? " "No," I said, " this is my first attempt." "Very likely. Have you had any experience in agri- culture practically ? " "No, I believe I have not." " Some instinct told me so," said he. " I wish to read you what made me have that instinct. It was this editorial : — " ' Turnips should never be pulled, it injures them. It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.' " Now what do you think of that?" " Think of it ? Why, I think it is good. I think it is sense. I have no doubt that every year millions of bushels of turnips are spoiled in this township alone by being pulled in a half-ripe condition, when, if they had sent a boy up to shake the tree — " " Shake your grandmother ! Turnips don't grow on trees ! " " Oh, they don't, don't they ? Well, who said they did? The language was intended to be figurative. Anybody that knows anything will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine." Then the old man got up and tore his paper into shreds, and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane, and said I didn't know so much as a cow ; and banged the door after him, and, in short, acted in such a way that I fancied he was displeased about something. 430 SCHOOL SPEAKER Pretty soon, a long, cadaverous creature, with lanky locks hanging clown to his shoulders, and a week's stubble bristling from the hills and valleys of his face, darted in and halted motionless, with finger on lip, and head and body bent in listening attitude. Then he turned the key in the door, and came tiptoeing toward me till he was within long reaching distance, when he stopped, and after scanning my face with interest, drew a copy of our paper from his bosom, and said : — " There, you wrote that. Read it to me, quick ! Re- lieve me ; I suffer." I read as follows ; and as the sentences fell from my lips I could see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go out of the face, and rest and peace steal over the features like moonlight over a desolate landscape : — " ' The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing it. It should not be imported earlier than June or later than Septem- ber. In the winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can hatch out its young. "'It is evident that we are to have a backward season for grain. Therefore it will be well for the farmer to begin setting out his corn- stalks and planting his buckwheat cakes in July instead of August. "'Concerning the pumpkin. — This berry is a favorite with the natives of the interior of New England, who prefer it to the goose- berry for the making of fruit cake, and who, likewise, give it the pref- erence over the raspberry for feeding cows, as being more filling and fully as satisfying. But the custom of planting it in the front yard with the shrubbery is fast going out of vogue, for it is now generally conceded that the pumpkin as a shade tree is a failure.' " The excited listener sprang toward me, and said : — " There, there, that will do ! I know I am all right now, because you have read it just as I did. But, stranger, when I first read it this morning I said to myself, ' I never believed it before; but now I believe I am crazy.' I read MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 431 one of those paragraphs over again, so as to be certain, and then I burned my house down and started. I have crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree, where I can get him if I want him. But I thought I would call in here as I passed along, and make the thing perfectly certain. Good-by, sir, good-by ; you have taken a great load off my mind. My reason has stood the strain of one of your agricultural articles, and I know that noth- ing can ever unseat it now. G-ood-by, sir." I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arsons this person had been entertaining himself with, but these thoughts were quickly banished, for the regular editor walked in. He surveyed the wreck, and said : " This is a sad busi- ness — a very sad business. There is the mucilage bottle broken, and six panes of glass, and a spittoon and two candlesticks. But that is not the worst. The reputation of the paper is injured, permanently, I fear. True, there never was such a call for the paper before, and it never sold such a large edition or soared to such celebrity ; but does one want to be famous for lunacy, and prosper upon the infirmities of the mind? Why, what put it into your head that you could edit a paper of this nature? You speak of a furrow and a harrow as being the same thing ; you talk of the molting season for cows ; and you recom- mend the domestication of the polecat, on account of its playfulness and its excellence as a ratter. Your remark that clams will lie quiet if music be played to them, was entirely superfluous. Nothing disturbs clams. Clams always lie quiet. Heavens and earth ! if you had made the acquiring of ignorance the study of your life, you could not have graduated with higher honor than you have to-day. I want you to throw up your situation and 432 m SCHOOL SPEAKER go. I want no more holiday — I could not enjoy it if I had it. It makes me lose all patience to think of your discussing oyster beds under the head of ' Landscape Gardening.' I want you to go. Oh, why didn't you tell me you didn't understand agriculture." " Tell you, you cornstalk, you cabbage ? It's the first time I ever heard such an unfeeling remark. Sir, I have been through the newspaper business from Alpha to Omaha, and I tell you that the less a man knows, the bigger the noise he makes and the higher the salary he commands. Heaven knows if I had been ignorant instead of cultivated, and impudent instead bf diffident, I could have made a name for myself in this cold, selfish world. But I have done my duty. I said I could run your circu- lation up to twenty thousand copies, and if I had two more weeks I'd have done it. And I'd have given you the best class of readers that ever an agricultural paper had — not a farmer in it, nor a solitary individual who could tell a watermelon tree from a peach vine to save his life. You are the loser by this rupture, not me, — Pie- plant ! Adios." I then left. EMPIRE AND LIBERTY W. E. Gladstone Gentlemen : The Prime Minister [Lord Beaconsfield], in a recent address, made what I think one of the most unhappy and ominous allusions ever made by a minister of this country. He quoted certain words easily rendered as " Empire and Liberty " — words (he said) of a Roman statesman, words descriptive of the state of Rome, and he quoted them as words which were capable of legitimate MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 483 application to the position and circumstances of England. I join issue with the Prime Minister upon that subject, and I affirm that nothing can be more fundamentally unsound, more practically ruinous, than the establishment of Roman analogies for the guidance of British policy. What, gentlemen, was Rome ? Rome was indeed an imperial state ; you may tell me — I know not, I cannot read the counsels of Providence, — a state having a mis- sion to subdue the world, but a state whose very basis it was to deny the equal rights, to proscribe the independent existence of other nations. No doubt the word " Empire " was qualified with the word " Liberty." But what did the two words "Liberty" and " Empire " mean in the Roman mouth ? They meant simply this : " Liberty for ourselves, Empire over the rest of mankind." Gentlemen, it is but in a pale and weak and almost despicable miniature that such ideas are now set up, but you will observe that the poison lies in the principle and not the scale. It is the opposite principle which I call upon you to vindicate when the day of our election comes. I mean the sound and sacred principle that Christendom is formed of a band of nations who are united to each other in the bonds of right ; that they are without dis- tinction of great and small ; there is absolute equality between them, — the same sacredness defends the narrow limits of Belgium as attaches to the extended frontiers of Russia, or Germany, or France. I hold that he who by act or word brings that principle into peril or disparagement, however honest his intentions may be, places himself in the position of one inflicting injury upon his own country, and endangering the peace and all the most fundamental interests of Christian society. SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 28 484 SCHOOL SPEAKER ON THE OTHER TRAIN A Clock's Story " There, Simmons, you blockhead ! Why didn't you trot that old woman aboard her train ? She'll have to wait here now until the 1.05 a.m." "You didn't tell me." "Yes, I did tell you. 'Twas only your confounded stupid carelessness." "She — " " She ! You fool ! What else could you expect of her ! Probably she hasn't any wit ; besides, she isn't bound on a very jolly journey — got a pass up the road to the poor- house. I'll go and tell her, and if you forget her to-night, see if I don't make mince-meat of you ! " and our worthy ticket agent shook his fist menacingly at his subordi- nate. " You've missed your train, marm," he remarked, com- ing forward to a queer looking bundle in the corner. A trembling hand raised the faded black veil, and re- vealed the sweetest old face I ever saw. " Never mind," said a quivering voice. " 'Tis only three o'clock now; you'll have to wait until the night train, which doesn't go up until 1.05." " Very well, sir ; I can wait." " Wouldn't you like to go to some hotel ? Simmons will show you the way." " No, thank you, sir. One place is as good as another to me. Besides, I haven't any money." " Very well," said the agent, turning away indifferently. "Simmons will tell you when it's time." All the afternoon she sat there so quiet that I thought MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 435 sometimes she must be asleep, but when I looked more closely I could see every once in a while a great tear roll- ing down her cheek, which she would wipe away hastily with her cotton handkerchief. The depot was crowded, and all was bustle and hurry until the 9.50 train going east came due; then every pas- senger left except the old lady. It is very rare, indeed, that any one takes the night express, and almost always after ten o'clock the depot becomes silent and empty. The ticket agent put on his greatcoat, and, bidding Simmons keep his wits about him for once in his life, de- parted for home. But he had no sooner gone than that functionary stretched himself out upon the table, as usual, and began to snore vociferously. Then it was I witnessed such a sight as I never had before and never expect to again. The fire had gone down — it was a cold night, and the wind howled dismally outside. The lamps grew dim and flared, casting weird shadows upon the wall. By and by I heard a smothered sob from the corner, then another. I looked in that direction. She had risen from her seat, and oh ! the look of agony on the poor pinched face. " I can't believe it," she sobbed, wringing her thin, white hands. " Oh ! I can't believe it ! My babies ! my babies ! how often have I held them in my arms and kissed them ; and how often they used to say back to me, ' Ise love you, mamma,' and now, O God ! they've turned against me. Where am I going ? To the poorhouse ! No ! no ! no ! I cannot ! I Avill not ! Oh, the disgrace ! " And sinking upon her knees, she sobbed out in prayer: " O God ! spare me this and take me home ! O God, spare me this disgrace ; spare me ! " 436 SCHOOL SPEAKER The wind rose higher and swept through the crevices, icy cold. How it moaned and seemed to sob like some- thing human that is hurt. I began to shake, but the kneeling figure never stirred. The thin shawl had dropped from her shoulders unheeded. Simmons turned over and drew his blanket more closely about him. Oh, how cold ! Only one lamp remained, burning dimly ; the other two had gone out for want of oil. I could hardly see, it was so dark. At last she became quieter and ceased to moan. Then I grew drowsy, and kind of lost the run of things after I had struck twelve, when some one entered the depot with a bright light. I started up. It was the brightest light I ever saw, and seemed to fill the room full of glory. I could see 'twas a man. He walked to the kneeling figure and touched her upon the shoulder. She started up and turned her face wildly around. I heard him say : — " 'Tis train time, ma'am. Come ! " A look of joy came over her face. " I am ready," she whispered. " Then give me your pass, ma'am." She reached him a worn old book, which he took, and from it read aloud : — " Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest." " That's the pass over our road, ma'am. Are you ready ? " The light died away, and darkness fell in its place. My hand touched the stroke of one. Simmons awoke with a start and snatched his lantern. The whistle sounded down brakes ; the train was due. He ran to the corner and shook the old woman. " Wake up, marm ; 'tis train time." MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 437 But she never heeded. He gave one look at the white set face, and, dropping his lantern, fled. The up train halted, the conductor shouted " All aboard," but no one made a move that way. The next morning, when the ticket agent came, he found her frozen to death. They whispered among themselves, and the coroner made out the verdict "apoplexy," and it was in some way hushed up. They laid her out in the depot, and advertised for her friends, but no one came. So, after the second day, they buried her. The last look on the sweet old face, lit up with a smile so unearthly, I keep with me yet ; and when I think of the occurrence of that night, I know she went out on the other train, that never stopped at the poorhouse. EARLY RISING John G. Saxe "God bless the man who first invented sleep ! " So Sancho Panza said, and so say I : And bless him also that he didn't keep His great discovery to himself ; nor try To make it — as the lucky fellow might — A close monopoly by patent right. Yes — bless the man who first invented sleep (I really can't avoid the iteration ) ; But blast the man with curses loud and deep, Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, Who first invented, and went round advertising, That artificial cut-off — Early Rising! 438 SCHOOL SPEAKER " Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," Observes some solemn sentimental owl. Maxims like these are very cheaply said ; But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl, Pray, just inquire about his rise and fall, And whether larks have any beds at all ! " The time for honest folks to be abed " Is in the morning, if I reason right ; And he who cannot keep his precious head Upon his pillow till it's fairly light, And so enjoy his forty morning winks, Is up to knavery ; or else — he drinks. Thomson, who sung about the " Seasons," said It was a glorious thing to rise in season ; But then he said it — lying — in his bed, At ten o'clock a.m., — the very reason He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is, His preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice. 'Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake, — Awake to duty, and awake to truth, — But when, alas ! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and da}^s, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep Are those we passed in childhood or asleep ! 'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile For the soft visions of the gentle night ; And free, at last, from mortal care or guile, To live as only in the angels' sight, In sleep's sweet realm so cosily shut in, Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 439 So, let us sleep, and give the Maker praise. — I like the lad who, when his father thought To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase Of vagrant worm by early songster caught, Cried, " Served him right ! it's not at all surprising ; The worm was punished, sir, for early rising ! " COLUMBIAN ORATION Abridged [Delivered at the opening of the Columbian Exposition, Chicago, October 21, 1892.] Henry Watterson We look before and after, and we see, through the half- drawn folds of time as through the solemn archways of some grand cathedral, the long procession pass, as silent and as unreal as a dream. The caravels tossing upon Atlantic billows, have their sails refilled from the East and bear away to the West. The land is reached, and fulfilled is the vision whose actualities are to be gathered by other hands than his who planned the voyage and steered the bark of discovery. The long sought golden day has come to Spain at last, and Castilian conquests tread one upon another fast enough to pile up perpetual power and riches. But even as simple justice was denied Columbus, was lasting tenure denied the Spaniard. We look again, and we see in the far Northeast the old world struggle between the French and the English transferred to the new, ending in the tragedy upon the heights above Quebec. We see the sturdy Puritans in bell-crowned hats and sable garments assail in unequal battle the savage and the elements, over- 440 SCHOOL SPEAKER coming both to rise against a mightier foe; we see the gay, but dauntless Cavaliers, to the southward, join hands with the Roundheads in holy rebellion. And lo ! down from the green-walled hills of New England, out of the swamps of the Carolinas, come faintly to the ear, like far away forest leaves stirred to music by autumn winds, the drum- taps of the revolution; the tramp of the minute-men, Israel Putnam riding before; the hoof beats of Sumter's horse galloping to the front; the thunder of Stark's guns in spirit battle; the gleam of Marion's watch fires in ghostly bivouac; and there, there in serried, saintlike ranks on fame's eternal camping-ground, stand — " The old Continentals, in their ragged regimentals, yielding not," as, amid the singing of angels in heaven, the scene is shut out from our mortal vision b}^ proud and happy tears. We see the rise of the young republic, and the gentle- men in knee breeches and powdered wigs who signed the Declaration and the gentlemen in knee breeches and pow- dered wigs who made the Constitution. We see the little nation menaced from without. We see the riflemen in hunting-shirt and buckskin swarm from the cabin in the wilderness to the rescue of country and home; and our hearts swell to a second and final decree of independence, won by the prowess and valor of American arms upon land and sea. And then, and then — since there is no life of nations or of men without its shadow and its sorrow — there comes a day when the spirits of the fathers no longer walk upon the battlements of freedom, and all is dark ; and all seems lost, save liberty, and honor, and, praise God, our blessed Union. Truly, out of trial comes the strength of man, out of disaster comes the glory of the state I MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 441 The curse of slavery is gone. It was a joint heritage of woe, to be wiped out and expiated in blood and flame. The mirage of the Confederacy has vanished. It was essentially bucolic, a vision of Arcadia, the dream of a most attractive economic fallacy. The exact relation of the States to the federal government has been clearly and definitely fixed by the three last amendments to the origi- nal chart, which constitute the real treaty of peace be- tween the North and the South, and seal our bonds as a nation forever. The republic represents at last the letter and the spirit of the sublime Declaration. The fetters that bound her to the earth are burst asunder. The rags that degraded her beauty are cast aside. Like the en- chanted princess in the legend, clad in spotless raiment and wearing a crown of living light, she steps in the per- fection of her maturity upon the scene of this the latest and proudest of her victories to bid a welcome to the world ! Need I pursue the theme ? This vast assemblage speaks with a resonance and meaning which words can never reach. There is no geography in American man- hood. There are no sections to American fraternity. The South claims Lincoln, the immortal, for its own ; the North has no right to reject Stonewall Jackson, the one typical Puritan soldier of the war, for its own! Nor will it! The time is coming, is almost here, when hanging above many a mantel board in fair New England — glorifying many a cottage in the sunny South — shall be seen bound together in everlasting love and honor two cross-swords carried to battle respectively by the grandfather who wore the blue and the grandfather who wore the gray. . . . God bless our country's flag! And God be with us, now and ever, God in the roof tree's shade and God on the. highway, God in the winds and waves, and God in all our hearts! 442 SCHOOL SPEAKER AMERICA AND ENGLAND Washington Irving The members of a republic, above all other men, should be candid and dispassionate. They are, individually, por- tions of the sovereign mind and sovereign will, and should be enabled to come to all questions of national concern with calm and unbiased judgments. From the peculiar nature of our relations with England, we must have more frequent questions of a difficult and delicate character with her, than with any other nation ; questions that affect the most acute and excitable feelings: and as, in the adjusting of these, our national measures must ultimately be determined by popular sentiment, we cannot be too anxiously attentive to purify it from all latent passion or prepossession. Opening too, as we do, an asylum for strangers from every portion of the earth, we should receive all with im- partiality. It should be our pride to exhibit an example of one nation, at least, destitute of national antipathies, and exercising, not merely the overt acts of hospitality, but those more rare and noble courtesies which spring from liberality of opinion. What have we to do with national prejudices? They are the inveterate diseases of old countries, contracted in rude and ignorant ages, when nations knew but little of each other, and looked beyond their own boundaries with distrust and hostility. We, on the contrary, have sprung into national existence in an enlightened and philosophic age, when the different parts of the habitable world, and the various branches of the human family, have been inde- fatigably studied and made known to each other ; and we forego the advantages of our birth, if we do not shake off MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 443 the national prejudices, as we would the local superstitions, of the Old World. But, above all, let us not be influenced by any angry feelings, so far as to shut our eyes to the perception of what is really excellent and amiable in the English character. We are a young people, necessarily an imitative one, and must take our examples and models, in a great degree, from the existing nations of Europe. There is no country more worthy of our study than England. The spirit of her constitution is most analogous to ours. The manners of her people — their intellectual activity — their freedom of opinion — their habits of thinking on those subjects which concern the dearest interests and most sacred char- ities of private life, are all congenial to the American character ; and, in fact, are all intrinsically excellent : for it is in the moral feeling of the people that the deep foundations of British prosperity are laid ; and however the superstructure may be time-worn, or overrun by abuses, there must be something solid in the basis, admirable in the materials, and stable in the structure of an edifice that so long has towered unshaken amid the tempests of the world. Let it be the pride of our writers, therefore, discarding all feelings of irritation, and disdaining to retaliate the illiberality of British authors, to speak of the English nation without prejudice, and with determined candor. While they rebuke the indiscriminating bigotry with which some of our countrymen admire and imitate everything English, merely because it is English, let them frankly point out what is really worthy of approbation. We may thus place England before us as a perpetual volume of reference, wherein are recorded sound deductions from ages of experience ; and while we avoid the errors and 444 SCHOOL SPEAKER absurdities that have crept into the page, we may draw thence golden maxims of practical wisdom, wherewith to strengthen and embellish our national character. MY EIVAL Rudyard Kipling I go to concert, party, ball — what profit is in these ? I sit alone against the wall and strive to look at ease. The incense that is mine by right they burn before her shrine ; And that's because I'm seventeen and she is forty-nine. I cannot check my girlish blush, my color comes and goes ; I redden to my finger tips, and sometimes to my nose. But she is white where white should be, and red where red should shine. The blush that flies at seventeen is fixed at forty-nine. I wish I had her constant cheek ; I wish that I could sing All sorts of funny little songs, not quite the proper thing. I'm very gauche and very shy, her jokes aren't in my line ; And, worst of all, I'm seventeen, while she is forty-nine. The young men come, the young men go, each pink and white and neat, She's older than their mothers, but they grovel at her feet, They walk beside her 'rickshaw wheels — none ever walk by mine ; And that's because I'm seventeen and she is forty-nine. She rides with half a dozen men (she calls them "boys" and " mashes " ), I trot along the mall alone ; my prettiest frocks and sashes Don't help to fill my programme card, and vainly I repine From ten to two A.M. Ah, me ! would I were forty-nine. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 445 She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear," and "sweet retiring maid." I'm always at the back, I know, she puts me in the shade. She introduces me to men, " cast " lovers, I opine, For sixty takes to seventeen, nineteen to forty-nine. But even she must older grow and end her dancing days, She can't go on forever so at concerts, balls, and plays. One ray of priceless hope I see before my footsteps shine : Just think, that she'll be eighty-one when I am forty-nine ! UNCLE SAM'S GREAT BULLFIGHT Eliot White They said the bulls were wondrous breed, in horn and hoof and brawn, And we held them penned in harbor cage to starve them fighting-prime ; Behind the bars they stamped and raged for their open fields of sea, Till we hoped wild sport of plunge and toss when came the battle time. Is this the hour, O Spanish bulls, ye choose in sunny Spain To burst upon the matadors in chapel at the mass ? But we knew your day was Sunday, and we watched your hot black breath Curl behind our blue church pennant and along the hill- ridge pass. Pray with one eye toward the cage bolt ! — some have said 'tis not full-shot — Have the other on the flagship — loose your white ducks, throat and hip ! 446 SCHOOL SPEAKER Sudden jingling bells' " Full forward ! " bugles' cry and leap of screws Answer whipping flags that shouted, " Bulls are at the grating lip ! " Had we starved the spirit from them ? Had they heard our swords were keen ? No lashing tail or bloodshot eye, or splendid rush to gore In the open hot arena, but the sinking run from death, Till we chased in rage to lose the game, goading them rear and fore. First the banderillos of the six-pound rapid-fires We thrust into their shoulders, just to make them snort for fight, Then we waved our scarfs of scarlet flame, to draw them to the charge, But up the far ring barriers reeled the frightened beasts in flight. Close to the torn black flanks we hung, scorning the side- long blow Of lunging head and wild-aimed horn till we turned them to the stand ; Then we held our strokes in pity of the great beasts' sinking knees, When the espada of the thirteen-inch had thrust them to the sand. Yet not to kill, our passion, but to fend the trampling hoofs From crushing sunny helpless fields to pash of slime and blood ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 447 And it may be two of the wounded bulls we'll raise to life again, That shall stand guard 'neath the eyries of the Eagle's new-fledged brood. AFTER THE CHARGE AT LA QUASIKA Edward Marshall There is much that is awe-inspiring about the death of soldiers on the battlefield. Almost all of us have seen men or women die, but they have died in their carefully arranged beds with doctors daintily hoarding the flicker- ing spark, with loved ones clustered about. But death from disease is less awfnl than death from bullets. On the battlefield there are no delicate, scientific problems of strange microbes to be solved. There is no petting, no coddling — nothing, nothing, nothing but death. The man lives, he is strong, he is vital, every muscle in him is at its fullest tension, when, suddenly, " chug ! " he is dead. That " chug " of the bullets striking flesh is nearly always audible. But bullets which are billeted, so far as I know, do not sing on their way. They go silently, grimly to their mark, and the man is lacerated and torn, or dead. I did not hear the bullet shriek that killed Hamilton Fish ; I did not hear the bullet shriek that struck the many others who were wounded while I was near them ; I did not hear the bullet shriek which struck me. There were several wounded men there before me. The first-aid men came along, learned that my wound was at the side of and had shattered the spine, and, shaking their heads gravely, gave me a weak solution of ammonia as a stimulant. I heard one of them say he would run 448 SCHOOL SPEAKER for the surgeon. He came in a few moments, and I was surprised, because he examined me first. He told me I was about to die. The news was not pleasant, but it did not interest me particularly. "Don't you want to seiid any messages home?" he asked. "If you do, you'd better write 'em — be quick." I decided to take his advice. Not far away was a young man, shot through both knees. I had plainly heard the words, " His wound is mortal," passed around among the other wounded, in hoarse whispers ; and, as I turned my head, I could see them all looking at me sorrowfully, and one or two had tears in their eyes. The surgeon had done what he could for all of us, and had gone away on a keen run to some other group. The young man who had been shot through both knees painfully worked his way across to me. " I'm a stenographer at home," he said, grasping my hand, and smoothing it gently. " Let me take your mes- sages for you." He searched my pockets, got pencil and paper, and I stupidly and slowly dictated three letters. I am sure I had no real conception of anything that had happened since the bullet struck me until, as he finished the last letter, he rolled over in a faint with upturned eyes. Then I understood my dreadful, but unintentional cruelty, and tried to help him. I couldn't move. For the first time I knew that I was paralyzed. A continual chorus of moans rose through the tree branches overhead. The surgeons, with hands and bared arms dripping, and clothes literally saturated with blood, were straining every nerve to prepare the wounded for the journey down to Siboney. It was a doleful group. Ampu- tation and death stared its members in their gloomy faces. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 449 Suddenly a voice started softly : — " My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing." Other voices took it up : — " Land where my fathers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride — " The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of wounded Americans in the midst of the Cuban solitude — the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human beings ever sang. There was one voice that did not quite keep up with the others. It was so weak that I did not hear it until all the rest had finished with the line : — " Let Freedom ring." Then, halting, struggling, faint, it repeated, slowly : — " Land — of — the — Pilgrims' — pride, Let Freedom — " The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had died as died the fathers. THE PHILIPPINE QUESTION Extracts from a speech by Senator Mason, of Illinois Mr. ' President : A black man said to a senator the other day, " I thank you for speaking for my race ; " and the senator replied : " I am speaking one word for your race and two for my own. Nothing ever dwarfed the white race so much as stooping for a hundred years to SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 29 450 SCHOOL SPEAKER keep down the black man." I may appear to speak one word for the Philippines, bnt two for my own people when I plead for the broad manhood of the man who wrote, " All just powers of government are derived from the con- sent of the governed." We ought to begin to learn the inexorable law of compensation. You cannot govern the Philippines without taxing them. You have not yet their consent, and the proposition of taxation without repre- sentation is made again. Look out for tea parties. Those little semisocial functions are likely to break out even there, for " Hail Columbia ! " and " Yankee Doodle " have been heard in the archipelago. When Kossuth wrote the declaration for Hungarian independence he said he had in mind our own Declaration of Independence. For over one hundred years every lover of liberty has pointed to this sentence. In the light of this sentence crowns have fallen into dust and the foundations of republics have been laid. You ask for expansion. See how we have expanded in the time since it was written. From Brazil to Nica- ragua and Venezuela the brave little Republican flag is floating. It may not be striped nor starred like our own, but it is born of the spirit of our spirit wherever it floats, and it breathes defiance to the monarchies of the world, because our flag is in our sky and because the Monroe doctrine is written forever in the hearts of the people. The other day when the senator from Connecticut was asked what he was going to do with the sentence that "All just powers of government are derived from the con- sent of the governed," he answered, " From the consent of some of the governed." Mr. President, when any cause needs for its defense such shallow and un-American eva- MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 451 sions as this, that cause will not live long in the minds of intelligent people. We cannot amend that sentence now, and when we all shall have moldered in forgotten dust this sentence will live and continue to burn, a menace to tyrants and a beacon of hope to the downtrodden and the oppressed. But distinguished gentlemen who claim a monopoly on patriotism, and who don't seem to observe the difference between expansion and explosion, say that we, who believe in getting the consent of the governed before we govern them, want to give back the Philippines to Spain. Every one who makes the statement knows that we want nothing of the sort. Mexico was invaded by the French, and we said to them, " Go ; it is covered by the Monroe doctrine." France withdrew her troops, and the brave, struggling republic is climbing up the scale of civilization — slowly but surely. That is the expansion I believe in. That is the imperialism that Monroe taught us. Again, it is claimed that our purpose is merely to give the Philippines liberty. But how is this liberty to be established ? Is it to be done hypodermically, with a thir- teen-inch gun ? Did not the natives who have been our allies drive the Spaniards out? Are they not in possession of their own land, their own homes? Are they guilty of any crime except love of home and country ? Having worn the Spanish yoke so long, do you wonder at their fear of ours ? Shall Ave shoot them and burn their homes because God Almighty has planted in their hearts and on their lips the sweet song of liberty ? Forbid it, Almighty God! Mr. President, I am through. I do not expect to escape bitter criticism. I have seen so much of sacrifice for the .cause of liberty that I would for it sacrifice my seat among 452 SCHOOL SPEAKER you, as cheerfully as I would part with a crust of bread. I have wished for that magnetic strength that would help me to burn within your hearts the sacred word of liberty — not Spanish liberty for Cuba, not liberty for you pre- scribed by me, not liberty for me prescribed by you ; not English liberty for America, not American liberty for the Philippines ; but liberty universal, for which our fathers died. IMPEEIALISM Extract from a speech by William J. Bryan A word in regard to imperialism. Those who advo- cate the annexation of the Philippines call themselves ex- pansionists, but they are really imperialists. The word expansion would describe the acquisition of territory to be populated by a homogeneous people, and to be carved into States like those now in existence. An empire sug- gests variety in race and diversity in government. The imperialists do not desire to clothe the Filipinos with all the rights and privileges of American citizens ; they want to exercise sovereignty over an alien race, and they expect to rule the new subjects upon a theory entirely at vari- ance with constitutional government. Victoria is Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India ; shall we change the title of our Executive and call him the President of the United States and Emperor of the Philippines ? There are two arguments which are always used in favor of conquest : philanthropy and five per cent. The one chloroforms the conscience of the conqueror and the other picks the pocket of the conquered. Some say that philanthropy demands that we govern MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 453 the Filipinos for their own good, while others assert that we must hold the islands because of the pecuniary profit to be derived from them. I deny the soundness of both arguments. Forcible annexation will not only be criminal aggression (to borrow Mr. McKinley's language of a year ago), but it will cost more than it is worth, and the whole people will pay the cost while a few will reap all the benefits. Still weaker is the argument based upon religious duty. The Christian religion rests upon the doctrine of vicarious suffering and atonement ; the colonial policy rests upon the doctrine of vicarious enjoyment. When the desire to steal becomes uncontrollable in an individual he is declared to be a kleptomaniac and is sent to an asylum ; when the desire to grab land becomes un- controllable in a nation we are told that the " currents of destiny are flowing through the hearts of men," and that the American people are entering upon their manifest mission. Shame upon a logic which locks up a petty offender and enthrones grand larceny. Have the people returned to the worship of the golden calf ? Have they made unto themselves a new commandment consistent with the spirit of conquest and the lust for empire ? Is " Thou shalt not steal upon a small scale " to be substituted for the law of Moses? Awake, O ancient lawgiver, awake ! Break forth from thine unmarked sepulcher and speed thee back to the cloud-crowned summit of Mount Sinai ; commune once more with the God of our fathers, and proclaim again the words engraven upon the tables of stone, the law that was, the law that is to-day — the law that neither individual nor nation can violate with impunity. 454 SCHOOL SPEAKER THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD Longfellow This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death angel touches those swift kej^s ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, The cries of agony, the endless groan Which, through the ages that have gone before us, In long reverberations reach our own. On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song, And loud, amid the universal clamor, O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. I hear the Florentine, who from his palace Wheels out his battle bell with dreadful din, And Aztec priests upon their teocallis Beat the wild war drums made of serpent's skin ; The tumult of each sacked and burning village ; The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage ; The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 455 The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, The rattling musketry, the clashing blade ; And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, The diapason of the cannonade. Is it, O man, with such discordant noises With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices. And j arrest the celestial harmonies ? Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts : The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! And every nation, that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise. INDEX TO AUTHORS Numbers refer to pages Adams, John Quincy. The Mission of America, 116. Addison, Joseph. Cato on Immortality, 243. iEschylus. The Battle of Salamis, 227. Alexander, Mrs. C. F. The Burial of Moses, 223. Anderson, Waldron W. As the Sun went Down, 187. Anonymous. Brother Watkins, 132. On the Other Train, 434. She Waved, 104. The Ferryman, 140. The House that Jack Built, 105. The Petrified Fern, 158. Thought and Language, 44. United in Death, 398. Arkwright, Peleg (D. L. Proudfit). Poor Little Joe, 62. Austin, Alfred. Ave Maria, 145. Aytoun, W. E. The Heart of the Bruce, 282. Bailey, J. M. Calling a Boy in the Morning, 92. Beecher, Henry Ward. National Morality, 421. Bible, The. Paul's Defense, 250. Boucicault, Dion. Scene from London Assurance, 207. Bourdillon, F. W. A Lost Legend, 262. Bright, John. England's True Greatness, 427. Browning, Robert. How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix, 310. The Boy and the Angel, 289. Bryan, William J. Imperialism, 452. Bryant, W. C. Thanatopsis, 174. To a Waterfowl, 178. Bulwer-Lytton, Edward. Richelieu's Vindication, 86. Burdette, R. J. The Gray Day, 142. Burns, Robert. Flow gently, Sweet Afton, 167. John Anderson, my Jo, 84. Byron. Ambition, 143. Apostrophe to the Ocean, 364. Exhortation to the Greeks, 366. Rome, 186. Waterloo, 361. Calhoun, John C. Liberty and Intelligence, 371. Campbell, Thomas. Hohenlinden, 60. Carlyle, Thomas. Await the Issue, 34. Nature a Hard Creditor, 425. Castelar, Emilio. Tribute to Lincoln, 412. Chatham, Lord. Speech on the American War, 338. Cicero, Marcus Tullius. Oration against Catiline, 241. Clay, Henry. My Ambition, 117. Sympathy with the Greeks, 366. True Patriotism, 25. 457 458 INDEX TO AUTHORS Clemens, S. C. (Mark Twain. ) How I Edited an Agricultural Paper, 428. Clough, Arthur Hugh. Say not the Struggle Naught Availeth, 414. Cochran, Burke. Decoration Day, 402. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. The Phantom Ship, 200. Coppee, Francois. The Benediction, 351. Croly, George. Catiline's Defiance, 90. Curtis, George William. Duty of the American Scholar, 113. Patriotism, 115. Dallas, Mary Kyle. Aunty Doleful' s Visit, 76. Demosthenes. Close of the Oration on the Crown, 229. Depew, Chauncey M. Columbus, 295. Dickens, Charles. Mr. Winkle on Skates (Pickwick Papers), 391. Old Fezziwig's Ball, 388. Dobson, Austin. Ballad of the Spanish Armada, 305. Donnelly, Eleanor C. Gualberto's Victory, 274. Dorr, Julia C. R. Legend of the Organ Builder, 277. g Doyle, A. P*. In Defense of the Christian Sun- day, 128. Dryden. Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, 152. Emerson, R. W. Each and All, 144. Everett, Edward. Galileo, 303. Our Republic, 394. The Flag, 189. Finch, F. M. The Blue and the Gray, 404. Garland, Hamlin. Sport, 218. Gilbert, W. S. The Yarn of the " Nancy Bell,"416. To the Terrestrial Globe, 86. Gladstone, W. E. Empire and Liberty, 432. Goldsmith, Oliver. The Village Preacher, 360. The Village Schoolmaster, 45. Gough, John B. The Power of Habit, 93. Greene, Homer. De Quincey's Deed, 397. Halleck, Fitz-Greene. Marco Bozzaris, 368. Hay, John. The Curse of Hungary, 314. Hayne, Robert Y. The South during the Revolu- tion, 341. Hemans, Felicia. The Fall of D'Assas, 82. Henry, Patrick. An Appeal to Arms, 332. Liberty or Death, 334. Higginson, Thomas W. Rabiah's Defense, 255. Holland, J. G. Gradatim, 33. Holmes, Oliver Wendell. Old Ironsides, 359. The Ballad of the Oysterman, 23. The Boys, 125. The Last Leaf, 373. The Music Grinders, 422. The September Gale, 369. Union and Liberty, 68. Homer. The Victory of Hector, 221. Hood, Thomas. The Bridge of Sighs, 71. Howe, Julia Ward. Battle Hymn of the Republic, 396, Hugo, Victor. Caught in the Quicksand, 419. Envy and Avarice, 225. The Emperor's Return, 288. The Father's Curse, 280. Irving, Washington. America and England, 442. Jerrold, Douglas. A Curtain Lecture of Mrs. Cau- dle, 375. INDEX TO AUTHORS 459 Keats, John. Beauty (Proem to Endymion), 176. La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 269. Scene from King Stephen, 198. Kellogg, Elijah. Spartacus to the Gladiators, 237. Kipling, Rudyard. My Rival, 444. Knowles, Sheridan. William Tell among the Moun- tains, 287. Lathrop, George Parsons. Keenan's Charge, 74. Lincoln, Abraham. Dedication of Gettysburg Ceme- tery, 401. Second Inaugural Address, 406. Longfellow, H. W. A Psalm of Life, 49. Resignation, 188. Seaweed, 107. The Arsenal at Springfield, 454. The Day is Done, 163. The Exile of the Acadians, 316. The Old Clock on the Stairs, 160. The Skeleton in Armor, 257. Lowell, J. R. June, 183. The Courtin', 381. Macaulay, T. B. Charles the Eirst, 47. The Battle of Ivry, 307. The Death of Herminius, 232. Erom Horatius, 157. McKinley, William. Education, 43. Washington's Foreign Policy. 346. Mann, Horace. Orient Yourself, 112. Marshall, Edward. After the Charge at La Quasina, - 447. Mason, William E. The Philippine Question, 449. Mendum, Georgiana. Tahawus, 186. Milton, John. Invocation from Paradise Lost, 56. Mitford, Mary Russell. Rienzi to the Romans, 253. Moore, Thomas. The Minstrel Boy, 184. Those Evening Bells, 141. O'Connell, Daniel. The Irish Disturbance Bill, 130. Peck, Samuel Minturn. My Grandmother's Fan, 154. Phillips, Wendell. Toussaint L'Ouverture, 385. Pope, Alexander. The Dying Christian to his Soul, 185. Procter, Adelaide A. A Legend of Bregenz, 299. The Nights, 160. The Story of the Faithful Soul, 267. Quincy, Josiah. The Embargo, 353. Read, Thomas Buchanan. The Revolutionary Rising, 335. Roberts, Charles G. D. The Ballad of the "Laughing Sally," 326. Roche, James Jeffrey. The Fight of the "Armstrong" Privateer, 355. Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. Aspecta Medusa, 52. Ruskin, John. Great Art, 52. The Clouds, 168. The Sky, 165. Sargeant, John. The Law of Success, 100. Saxe, John G. Early Rising, 437. Scott, Walter. The Ballad of Alice Brand, 271. The Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee, 312. The Death of Marmion, 297. Shakespeare. Antony's Lament over Csesar, 244. Antony's Oration over Csesar, 245. Brutus on the Death of Caesar, 46. 460 INDEX TO AUTHORS Shakespeare {continued). Cardinal Wolsey, on being cast off by Henry VIII, 196. From the Graveyard Scene, 293. Hamlet's Instruction to the Play- ers, 88. Hamlet's Soliloquy, 194. Henry V to his Troops, 155. Music (from " Merchant of Ven- ice," Act V), 172. Othello's Defense, 21. Polonius to Laertes, 32. Portia's Plea for Mercy, 89. Queen Katharine's Appeal to Henry VIII, 195. Seven Ages of Man, 151. The Quarrel between Brutus and Cassius, 202. Shelley, P. B. The Cloud, 169. Sheridan, R. B. Scene from the Rivals (Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Antony), 209. Scene from the Rivals (Sir An- tony and Captain Absolute), 212. Smith, Horace. To a Mummy, 219. Southey, Robert. The Cataract of Lodore, 101. Taylor, Jeremy. The Drunkard, 127. Taylor, Tom. Abraham Lincoln, 409. Tennyson, Alfred. A Welcome to Alexandra, 181. Break, Break, Break, 40. Bugle Song, 166. Charge of the Light Brigade, 69. Lady Clare, 57. Ring out, Wild Bells, 415. Sweet and Low, 46. The Captain, 324. Tennyson {continued) . The Eagle, 139. The Victim, 215. Thackeray, W. M. King Canute, 263. Tom son, Graham R. The Wrecker of Priest's Cove, 329. Ware, William. Zenobia to her People, 285. Washington, George. Prom the Parewell Address, 348. Our Relations with Europe, 349. Watterson, Henry. Columbian Oration, 439. Webster, Daniel. Liberty and Union, 383. South Carolina and Massachu- setts, 342. True Eloquence, 20. Werner, A. In a Theater, 240. Whipple, E. P. The Character of Washington, 345. Whitcomb, Charlotte. The Glen, 139. White, Eliot. Uncle Sam's Great Bullfight, 445. Whitman, Walt. O Captain, my Captain, 408. Sailing the Mississippi at Mid- night, 173. Talk to an Art Union, 25. Whittier, J. G. Barclay of Ury, 319. The Angels of Buena Vista, 378. True Beauty, 141. Willis, N. P. The Widow of Nain, 249. Wordsworth, William. Toussaint L'Ouverture, 388. INDEX TO SELECTIONS Numbers refer to pages Abraham Lincoln, Taylor, 409. After the Charge at La Quasina, Marshall, 447. Ambition, Byron, 143. America and England, Irving, 442. Angels of Buena Vista, The, Whittier, 378. Antony's Lament over Caesar, Shake- speare, 244. Antony's Oration over Caesar, Shake- speare, 245. Apostrophe to the Ocean, Byron, 3(34. Appeal to Arms, An, Henry, 332. Arsenal at Springfield, The, Long- fellow, 454. Aspecta Medusa, Bosetti, 52. As the Sun went Down, Anderson, 187. Aunty Doleful's Visit, Kyle, 76. Ave Maria, Austin, 145. Await the Issue, Carlyle, 34. Ballad of Alice Brand, The, Scott, 271. Ballad of the Laughing Sally, The, Boberts, 326. Ballad of the Oysterman, The, Holmes, 23. Ballad of the Spanish Armada, Bob- son, 305. Barclay of Ury, Whittier, 319. Battle Hymn of the Republic, Howe, 396. Battle of Ivry, Macaulay, 307. Battle of Salamis, The, Aeschylus, 227. Beauty (Proem to Endymion) , Keats, 176. Benediction, The, Coppee, 351. Blue and the Gray, The, Finch, 404. Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee, The, Scott, 312. Boy and the Angel, The, Browning, 289. Boys, The, Holmes, 125. Break, Break, Break, Tennyson, 40. Bridge of Sighs, The, Hood, 71. Brother Watkins, Anon., 132. Brutus on the Death of Caesar, Shake- speare, 46. Bugle Song, Tennyson, 166. Burial of Moses, The, Alexander, 223. Calling a Boy in the Morning, Bailey, 92. Captain, The, Tennyson, 324. Cardinal Wolsey on being cast off by Henry VIII. , Shakespeare, 196. Cataract of Lodore, The, Southey, 101. Catiline's Defiance, Croly, 90. Cato on Immortality, Addison, 243. Caught in the Quicksand, Hugo, 419. Character of Washington, The, Whipple, 345. Charge of the Light Brigade, Tennyson, 69. Charles the First, Macaulay, 47. Close of the Oration on the Crown, Demosthenes, 229. Clouds, The, Buskin, 168. Cloud, The, Shelley, 169. Columbian Oration, Watterson, 439. Columbus, Depew, 295. Courtin', The, Loioell, 381. Curse of Hungary, The, Hay, 314. Curtain Lecture of Mrs. Caudle, A, Jerrold, 375. 461 462 INDEX TO SELECTIONS Day is Done, The, Longfellow, 163. Death of Herminius, Macaulay, 232. Death of Marmion, The, Scott, 297. Decoration Day, Cochran, 402. Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery, Lincoln, 401. De Quincey's Deed, Greene, 397. Drunkard, The, Taylor, 127. Duty of the American Scholar, Curtis, 113. Dying Christian to his Soul, The, Pope, 185. Each and All, Emerson, 144. Eagle, The, Tennyson, 139. Early Rising, Saxe, 437. Education, McKinley, 43. Embargo, The, Quincy, 353. Emperor's Return, The, Hugo, 288. Empire and Liberty, Gladstone, 432. England's True Greatness, Bright, 427. Envy and Avarice, Hugo, 225. Exhortation to the Greeks, Byron, 366. Exile of the Acadians, Longfellow, 316. Fall of D'Assas, The, Hemans, 82. Farewell Address, Extracts from the, Washington, 348. Father's Curse, The, Hugo, 280. Ferryman, The, Anon., 140. Fight of the " Armstrong " Privateer, The, Roche, 355. Flag, The, Everett, 189. Flow gently Sweet Afton, Burns, 167. Galileo, Everett, 303. Glen, The, Whitcomb, 139. Gradatim, Holland, 33. Graveyard Scene, From the, Shake- speare, 293. Gray Day, The, Burdette, 142. Great Art, Ruskin, 52. Gualberto's Victory, Donnelly, 274. Hamlet's Instruction to the Players, Shakespeare, 88. Hamlet's Soliloquy, Shakespeare, 194. Heart of the Bruce, The, Aytoun, 282. Henry V. to his Troops, Shakespeare, 155. Hohenlinden, Campbell, 60. Horatius, From, Macaulay, 157. House that Jack Built, Anon., 105. How I edited an Agricultural Paper, Clemens, 428. "How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix," Browning, 310. Imperialism, Bryan, 452. In a Theater, Werner, 240. In Defense of the Christian Sunday, Doyle, 128. Invocation from Paradise Lost, Milton, 56. Irish Disturbance Bill, The, O'Connell, 130. John Anderson my Jo, Burns, 84. June, Lowell, 183. Keenan's Charge, Lathrop, 74. King Canute, Thackeray, 263. La Belle Dame sans Merci, Keats, 269. Lady Clare, Tennyson, 57. Last Leaf, The, Holmes, 373. Law of Success, The, Sargeant, 100. Legend of Bregenz, A, Procter, 299. Legend of the Organ Builder, Dorr, 277. Liberty and Intelligence, Calhoun, 371. Liberty and Union, Webster, 383. Liberty or Death, Henry, 334. Lost Legend, A, Bourdillon, 262. Marco Bozzaris, Halleck, 368. Minstrel Boy, The, Moore, 184. Mission of America, The, Adams, 116. Mr. Winkle on Skates, Dickens, 391. Music (from "Merchant of Venice,") Shakespeare, 172. Music Grinders, The, Holmes, 422. My Ambition, Clay, 117. My Grandmother's Fan, Peck, 154. My Rival, Kipling, 444. National Morality, Beecher, 421. Nature a Hard Creditor, Carlyle, 425. Nights, The, Procter, 160. INDEX TO SELECTIONS 463 O Captain, my Captain, Whitman, 408. Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, Dryden, 152. Old Clock on the Stairs,- The, Long- fellow, 160. Old Fezziwig's Ball, Dickens, 388. Old Ironsides, Holmes, 359. On the Other Train, Anon., 431. Oration against Catiline, Cicero, 241. Orient Yourself, Mann, 112. Othello's Defense, Shakespeare, 21. Our Relations with Europe, Washing- ton 349. Our Republic, Everett, 394. Patriotism, Curtis, 115. Paul's Defense before Agrippa, Bible, 250. Petrified Fern, The, Anon., 158. Phantom Ship, The, Coleridge, 200. Philippine Question, The, Mason, 449. Polonius to Laertes, Shakespeare, 32. Poor Little Joe, Arkwright, 62. Portia's Plea for Mercy, Shakespeare, 89. Power of Habit, The, Cough, 93. Psalm of Life, A, Longfellow, 49. Quarrel between Brutus and Cassius, Shakespeare, 202. Queen Katharine's Appeal to Henry VIII. for Mercy, Shakespeare, 195. Rabiah's Defense, Higginson, 255. Resignation, Longfellow , 188. Revolutionary Rising, The, Read, 335. Richlieu's Vindication, Bulwer, 86. Rienzi to the Romans, Mitford, 253. Ring Out Wild Bells, Tennyson, 415. Rome, Byron, 186. Sailing the Mississippi at Midnight, Whitman, 173. Say not the Struggle Naught Avail- eth, Clough, 414. Scene from King Stephen, Keats, 198. Scene from London Assurance, Bou- cicault, 207. Scene from The Rivals (Mrs. Mala- prop and Sir Anthony), Sheridan, 209. Scene from The Rivals (Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute), Sheridan, 212. Seaweed, Longfellow , 107. Second Inaugural Address, Washing- ton, 406. September Gale, The, Holmes, 369. Seven Ages of Man, Shakespeare, 151. She Waved, Anon., 104. Skeleton in Armor, The, Longfellow, 257. Sky, The, Buskin, 165. South Carolina and Massachusetts, Webster, 342. South during the Revolution, The, Hayne, 341. Spartacus to the Gladiators, Kellogg, 237.. Speech on the American War, Chatham, 338. Sport, Garland, 218. Story of the Faithful Soul, The, Proc- ter, 267. Sweet and Low, Tennyson, 46. Sympathy with the Greeks, Clay, 366. Tahawus, Mendum, 186. Talk to an Art Union, Whitman, 25. Thanatopsis, Bryant, 174. Those Evening Bells, Moore, 141. Thought and Language, Anon., 44. To a Mummy, Smith, 219. To a Waterfowl, Bryant, 178. To the Terrestrial Ball, Gilbert, 86. Toussaint L'Ouverture, Phillips, 385. Toussaint L'Ouverture, Wordsworth, 388. Tribute to Lincoln, Castelar, 412. True Beauty, Whittier, 141. True Eloquence, Webster, 20. True Patriotism, Clay, 25. Uncle Sam's Great Bull Fight, White, 445. , Union and Liberty, Holmes, 68. I United in Death, Anon., 398. 464 INDEX TO SELECTIONS Victim, The, Tennyson, 215. Victory of Hector, The, Homer, 221. Village Preacher, The, Goldsmith, 360. Village Schoolmaster, The, Goldsmith, 45. Washington's Foreign Policy, Mc- Kinley, 346. Waterloo, Byron, 361. Welcome to Alexandra, A, Tennyson, 181. Widow of Nain, The, Willis, 249. William Tell, among the Mountains, Knowles, 287. Wrecker of Priest's Cove, The, Tom- son, 329. Yarn of The Nancy Bell, Gilbert, 416. Zenobia to her People, Ware, 285.