ff^f mwn If Mm^ hfl LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. y M'^^li ®|itp. @i:i|a|ng]^i !f a. Shelf ,.S-?f-- Lur UNITED STATES OF AMEKICA. c ^ ^--.GV pUNG liOIil^S RECITATIONS NUIVIBE^R 1 Oeslgned. for Young F^eople of F^ifteen. Years f ; COMPILED BY PUBLICATION DEPARTWIENT The National School of Elocution -and Oratory PHILADELPHIA 1888 .^tc Entered according to Act of Congress^ in the year 1884, by THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 321 Chestnut Stieet, f hiladelpbiak. PREFACE. THIS little volume is designed for children between the ages of five and fifteen years. The need, as well as the numerous inquiries for a work of this kind, has led to the preparation of the present compilation. Our resources for collecting that which is fresh, varied, and vigorous are many ; and, while engaged in the task of arranging, three things were kept promi- nently in view : first, that the selections should neither be long nor tedious; second, that there should be an abundant variety; and, third, that the tone or character should be healthful. Hence, there are short pieces both of poetry and prose, some treating of plant and animal life, some of childhood pleasures, some brimming with innocent fun, some filled with ^patriotic fervor, some with bits of philosophy, and others designed to inspire the soul with motives toward truth, honor, right, and duty. iii IV PREFACE. A few dialogues and acting tableaux are appended, and thus through its adaptability it is believed that the book will meet the wants of children for the merry- makings in the home circle, for church anniversaries, and for school exhibitions. Such then is the style and character of this collection of Readings and Recitations which we offer to you, the Young Folks of our Beloved Land, trusting you may find in it much to gratify and please, and, above all, that which will lead your minds and hearts to thoughts Beautiful, Pure, and Good. Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker, Philadelphia, January Id, 1884. i^p^f^f-'-f^^T? ■!:,'' ""^ CONTENTS. Success in Life Jama A. Garfield .... 7 Do Something 9 How Cyrus Laid the Cable , 10 Little by Little 11 What the Winds Bring Edmund Clarence Stedman 12 The Two Koads 12 The Boy's Complaint 13 Never Say Fail 14 Farewell of the Birds H.K.P. 15 Boys Wanted . 17 Do Bight 17 Goo4 Deeds Dr.T. Chalmera 18 The Two Commands 18 A Christmas Eve Adventure 31. M. 19 The Way to Do It Mary Mapes Dodge .... 21 Speak the Truth 22 Battle Bunny— Malvern Hill Bret Harte 23 A Child's Wisdom 25 The Nobility of Labor 'Bev. OrviXU Dewey .... 26 Lazy Daisy 27 The Moon and the Child George Jacque 28 The Sparkling Bowl John Pierpont 29 Sweet Peas Lilian Payson 30 The King and the Child Eugene J. HaU 31 Do Tou Know How Many Stars? 33 The Fathers of the Republic ... • EvereU 34 A Horse's Petition to His Driver M Antony on the Death of Caesar Shakespeare 35 Sour Grapes 35 Be in Earnest Bulwer 36 Suppose Phoebe Gary 37 The Squirrel's Lesson 38 Homesick 39 War Inevitable Patrick Henry 41 That Calf Phcebe Gary 42 Johnny the Stout 44 What the Minutes Say 45 The Little Boy's Lament 46 Nature HughMiUer 47 The Boy and the Frog 47 Homoeopathic Soup 49 \1 CONTENTS. Lines to Kate 50 Grand Scheme of Emigration 52 Brave and True Henry DownUm 63 The Cobbler 64 AVhat's the Matter? H.K.P. 65 Peaceable Secession Webster 66 Baby's Soliloquy 57 A Tribute to Water John B, Gough 68 Grandpapa's Spectacles 69 Sin Baxter 60 February Twenty-second Joy Allison 61 The Stolen Custard 62 Somebody's Mother Macmillan 63 Willie's Breeches Etta G. Salsbury 64 Work TJiomas Ckxrlyle 65 Loveliness Maria Lacey 66 Being a Boy Charles Dudley Warner . . 67 We Must All Scratch 69 Blowing Bubbles Bev. 0. F, Starkey .... 70 \Mien the Frost is on the Punkin 72 America's Obligations to England Colonel Barre 73 Planting Himself to Grow 74 Dignity in Labor Neumian Hull 75 Where Did You Come From, Baby? George Macdonald .... 76 A Little Boy's Troubles Carlotta Perry 77 Notes from a Battle-field S. C. Stone 79 Three Good Doctors S. W. Dtijield, D.D 8"» On Conquering America Lord Chatliam St The Indian Brave Francis S. Smith 83 Johnny's Pocket 84 Six o'clock P. M 85 A Solium Fac' 86 The Little Light 87 The Bird and the Baby Alfred Tennyson 88 The Return from Battle 89 The American Flag A. P. Putnam 90 Lost Tommy Mrs. Julia M. Dana ... 91 The Foolish Harebell George Macdonald .... 93 Only a Baby Small Matihias Barr 94 Brutus on the Death of Caesar Shakespeare 95 MISCELLANEOUS. Three Little Mushrooms 90 Beal Elocution 97 Knowing the Circumstances 101 A &«ng of the States 103 SUCCESS IN LIFE. POETS may be born, but success is made ; therefore let me beg of you, in the outset of your career, to dismiss from your minds all ideas of succeeding by luck. There is no more common thought among young peo- ple than that foolish one that by and by something will turn up by which they will suddenly achieve fame or fortune. Luck is an ignis fat u us. You may follow it to ruiu, but not to success. The great Napoleon, who believed in his destiny, followed it until he saw his star go down in blackest night, when the Old Guard perished around him, and Waterloo was lost. A pound of pluck is worth a ton of luck. Young men talk of trusting to the spur of the occa- sion. That trust is vain. Occasion cannot make spurs. If you expect to wear spurs, you must win them. If you wish to use them, you^ust buckle them to your own heels before you go into the fight. Any success you may achieve is not worth the having unless you fight for it. Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efibrts, and then it is yours — a part of yourself Again : in order to have any success in life, or any worthy success, you must resolve to carry into your work a fullness of knowledge — not merely a sufficiency, but more than a sufficiency. Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let every one know that you have a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it. How full our coun- 7 8 YOUNG FOLKb' RECITATIONS. try is of bright examples, not only of those who .occupy some proud eminence in public life, but in every place you may find men goiug on with steady nerve, attract- ing the attention of their fellow-citizens, and carving out for themselves names and fortunes from small and hum- ble beginnings and in the face of formidable obstacles. Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Pov- erty is uncomfortable, as I can testify ; but nine times out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed overboard, and compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my acquaintance, I have never known one to be drowned who was worth the saving. This would not be wholly true in any country but one of political equality like ours. The reason is this : In the aristocracies of the Old World, wealth and society are built up like the strata of rock which c )mpose the crust of the earth. If a boy be born in the lowest stratum of life, it is almost impossible for him to rise through this hard crust into the higher ranks ; but in this country it is not so. The strata of our society resemble rather the o^an, where every drop, even the lowest, is free to mingle with all others, and may shine at last on the crest of the highest wave. This is the glory of our country, and you need not fear that there are any obstacles which will prove too great for any brave heart. In giving you being, God locked up in your nature certain forces and capabilities. What will you do with them ? Look at the mechanism of a clock. Take off the pendulum and ratchet, and the wheels go rattling down and all its force is expended in a moment ; but properly balanced and regulated, it will go on, letting out its force tick by tick, measuring hours and days, and |^^:^T^"S*^"- NUMBER ONE. 9 doing faithfully the service for which it was designed. I implore you to cherish and guard aud use well the forces that God has given to you. You may let them run down in a year, if you will. Take off the strong curb of dis- cipline and morality, and you will be an old man before your twenties are passed. Preserve these forces. Do not bum them out with brandy, or waste them in idleness and crime. Do not destroy them. Do not use them un- worthily. Save and protect them, that they may save for you fortune and fame. Honestly resolve to do this, and you will be an honor to yourself and to your country. James A. Garfield. DO SOMETHING. IF the world seems cold to you. Kindle fires to warm it ! Let their comfort hide from you Winters that deform it. Hearts as frozen as your own To that radiance gather ; You will soon forget to moan, " Ah ! the cheerless weather." If the world's a vale of tears. Smile till rainbows span it ; Breathe the love that life endears — Clear from clouds to fan it. Of our gladness lend a gleam Unto souls that shiver ; Show them how dark sorrow's stream Blends with hope's bright river ! 10 YOUNG folks' RKCITATIOXS. HOW CYRUS LAID THE CABLE. COME, listen to my song, it is no silly fable, 'Tis all about the mighty cord they call the Atlan- tic Cable. Bold Cyrus Field, said he, **I have a pretty notion That I could run a telegraph across the Atlantic Ocean." And all the people laughed and said they'd like to see him do it ; He might get " half seas over," but never would go through it. To carry out his foolish plan he never would be able ; He might as well go hang himself with his Atlantic Cable. But Cyrus was a valiant man, a fellow of decision. And heeded not their careless words, their laughter and derision. Twice did his bravest efforts fail, yet his mind was stable ; He wasn't the man to break his heart because he broke his cable. " Once more, my gallant boys," said he ; *' three times/' — you know the fable. " I'll make it thirty," muttered he, " but what 111 lay the cable." Hurrah ! hurrah ! again hurrah ! what means this great commotion ? Hurrah ! hurrah ! The cable's laid across the Atlantic Ocean. l^^^pr^'^^s-^ NUMBER ONE. II Loud ring the bells, for flashing through ten thousand leagues of water, Old Mother England's benison salutes her eldest daugh- ter. O'er all the land the tidings spread, and soon in every nation, They'll hear about the cable with profoundest admira- tion. Long live the gallant souls who helped our noble Cyrus ; And may their courage, faith, and zeal, with emulation fire us. And may we honor, evermore, the manly, bold and stable. And tell our sons, to make them brave, how Cyrus laid the Cable. LITTLE BY LITTLE. ONE step and then another, and the longest walk is ended ; ^One stitch and then another, and the widest rent is mended ; One brick upon another, and the highest wall is made; One flake upon another, and the deepest snow is laid. Then do not frown nor murmur at the work you have to do. Or say that such a mighty task you never can get through ; But just endeavor, day by day, another point to gain. And soon the mountain that you feared will prove to be a plain. 12 ' YOUNG folks' recitations. WHAT THE WINDS BRING. WHICH is the wind that brings the cold ? The north-wind, Freddy, and all the sno^ And the sheep will scamper into the fold, When the north begins to blow. Which is the wind that brings the heat ? The south-wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, And peaches redden for you to eat, When the south begins to blow. Which is the wind that brings the rain ? The east-wind, Arty ; and farmers know That cows come shivering up the lane When the east begins to blow. Which is the wind that brings the flowers ? The west-wind, Bessy ; and soft and low. The birdies sing in the summer hours When the west begins to blow. Edmund Clarence Stedman. THE TWO ROADS. WHERE two ways meet the children stand, A fair, broad road on either hand ; One leads to Right, and one to Wrong ; So runs the song. Which will you choose, each lass and lad ? The right or left, the good or bad ? One leads to Right, and one to Wrong ; So runs the song. NUMBER ONE. 13 THE BOY'S COMPLAINT. "r\H ! never mind, they're only boys ;'' yj 'Tis thus the people say, And they hustle us and jostle us, And drive us out the way. They never give us half our rights : I know that this is so ; Ain't I a boy ? and can't I see The way that these things go ? The little girls are petted all, Called " honey," " dear," and '' sweet," But boys are cuffed at home and school, And knocked about the street. My sister has her rags and dolls Strewn all about the floor. While old dog Growler dares not put His nose inside the door. And if I go upon the porch In hopes to have a play. Some one calls out, " Hollo, young chap, Take that noisy dog away !" My hoop is used to build a fire. My ball is thrown aside ; And mother let the baby have My top, because it cried. If company should come at night. The boys can't sit up late ; And if they come to dinner, then The boys, of course, must wait. 1 1 YOUNG folks' recitations. If any thing is raw or burned • It falls to us, no doubt ; And if the cake or pudding's short, We have to go without. If there are fireworks, we can't get A place to see at all ; And when the soldiers come along We're crowded to the wall. Whoever wants an errand done, We always have to scud ; Whoever wants the sidewalk, we Are crowded in the mud. 'Tis hurry-scurry, here and there, Without a moment's rest. And we scarcely get a " Thank you," if We do our very best. But never mind, boys — we will be The grown men by and by ; Then I suppose 'twill be our turn To snub the smaller boy. NEVER SAY FAIL. IN life's rosy morning, In manhood's pride. Let this be your motto, Your footsteps to guide : In storms and in sunshine. Whatever assail. We'll onward and conquer, And never say fail. NUMBER ONE. 15 FAKEWELL OF THE BIRDS. TO Jennie at play in the garden, To Bessie and Maud on the hill, To all the sweet children that frolic So gayly by brooklet and rill We are coming to-day. But, hush ! Never tell ! We are coming, I say, To bid you farewell ! You welcomed us early in spring, With laughter and shoutings so sweet ; To your childhood our music we bring. You scatter your crumbs at our feet. You love us, we know. Now listen, 'tis true : We're sorry to sing This farewell to you. WeVe led you full many a race O'er hillside and valley and dell ; We've beckoned you on to the forest. And shown you where wild flowers dwell ; We've twittered and sung New songs every day ; We'll give a grand chorus E'er flying away. Where berries are ripest and sweetest. Where grapes their rich perfume distill, We enticed you by flutter and music. Your little school-baskets to fill. 16 YOUNG folks' recitations. We showed you our nest, In shadiest nook ; We trusted your honor To take but a look. But the berries are gone from the roadside, The flowers hold the dew-drops no more ; The grapes from the vine have been gathered. And, children, our play-time is o'er. Good-bye, then, to Bessie, To Clara, and May, To all who are kind To the birds at their play. We go where the days are all sunny, The breezes all softened and bland, Where flowers and fruits never fail, In a far-away, dreamy Southland. But we love you all as well. Now list while we sing : We are sure to fly back At the coming of spring. Yes, in the spring time again We'll build near your homes in the tree ; We hope that each laughing-eyed urchin And maiden will be there to see. But now we must go ; Oh ! pray, do not cry, As upward and onward We warble, Good-bye. H. K. P. NUMBER ONE. 17 BOYS WANTED. BOYS of spirit^ boys of will, Boys of muscle, brain, and power. Fit to cope with anything, These are wanted every hour. Not the weak and whining drones. Who all troubles magnify ; Not the watchword of " I can't," But the nobler one, " I'll try." Do whate'er you have to do With a true and earnest zeal ; Bend your sinews to the task, " Put your shoulder to the wheeL* Though your duty may be hard. Look not on it as an ill ; If it be an honest task. Do it with an honest wilL In the workshop, on the farm. At the desk, where'er you be. From your future efforts, boys. Comes a nation's destiny. DO RIGHT. DO what conscience says is right ; Do what reason says is best ; Do with all your mind and might; Do your duty and be blest. 2 IS YOUNG folks' recitations. GOOD DEEDS. THOUSANDS of men breathe, move, and Kve, pass off the stage of life, aud are heard of no more. Why? They do not partake of good in this world, and none were blessed by them ; none could point to them as the means of their redemption ; not a line they wrote, not a word they spake, could be recalled ; and so they perished ; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal? Live for some- thing. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storm of time can never destroy. Write your name, in kindness, in love, and mercy, on the hearts of thousands you come in contact with year by year : you will never be forgotten. No ! Your name, your deeds, will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind you as the stars on the brow of evening. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heaven. Dr. T. Chalmers. THE TWO COMMANDS. THIS is the first and great command : To love thy God above ; And this the second : As thyself Thy neighbor thou shalt love. Who is thy neighbor ? He who wantf A help which thou canst give ; And both the law and prophets say. This do and thou shalt live. i:^:^^^^^X^f.f^.^ KUMBER OXE. 19 A CHRISTMAS EVE ADVENTURE. ON"CE on a time, in a queer little town On the shore of the Zuyder Zee, When all the good people were fast asleep, A strange thing happened to me ! Alone, the night before Christmas, I sat by the glowing fire, Watching the flame as it rose and fell, While the sparks shot high and higher. Suddenly one of these sparks began To flicker and glimmer and wink Like a big bright eye, till I hardly knew What to do or to say or to think. Quick as a flash, it changed to a face. And what in the W'orld did I see But dear old Santa Claus nodding his head. And waving his hand to me! ** Oh! follow me, follow me!" soft he cried, — And up through the chimney with him I mounted, not daring to utter a word Till we stood on the chimney's rim. " Now tell me, I beg you, dear Santa Claus, Where am I going with you?" He laughingly answered, " Why, don't you know? To travel the wide world through ! " From my crystal palace, far in the North, I have come since dark, — and see These curious things for the little folk Who live on the Zuyder Zee." 20 ^ YOUNG folks' RECTTATIOKS. Then seating himself in his reiadeer sledge, And drawing me down by his side, He whistled, and off on the wings of the wind We flew for our midnight ride. But first, such comical presents lie left For the little Dutch girls and boys, — Onions and sausages, wooden-faced dolls, Cheeses and gingerbread toys ! Away we hurried far to the South, To the beautiful land of France ; And there we showered the loveliest gifts, — Flaxen-haired dolls that could dance. Soldiers that marched at the word of command, Necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Tiny gold watches, all studded with gems. And hundreds of exquisite things. Crossing the Channel, we made a short call In Scotland and Ireland, too ; Left a warm greeting for England and Wales, Then over the ocean we flew Straight to America, where by myself. Perched on a chimney high, I watched him scramble and bustle about Between the earth and the sky. Many a stocking he filled to the brim. And numberless Christmas trees Burst into bloom at his magical touch I Then all of a sudden, a breeze J-^-v-v • ^ -^.V^, NUMBER ONE. 21 Caught US and bore us away to the South, And afterward blew us " out West :" And never till dawn peeped over the hills Did we stop for a moment's rest. " Christmas is coming !" he whispered to me, You can see his smile in the sky, — T wish Merry Christmas to all the world ! My work is over, — ^good-bye !" Like a flash he was gone, and I was alone, — • For all of this happened to me Once on a timo, in a queer little town On the shore of the Zuyder Zee ! M. M. THE WAY TO DO IT. I'LL tell you how I speak a piece: First, I make my bow ; Then I bring my words out clear And plain as I know how. Next, I throw my hands up — so ! ^ Then I lift my eyes : That's to let my hearers know Something doth surprise. Next, I grin and show my teeth, Nearly every one. Shake my shoulders, hold my sides : That's the sign of ftm. 22 YOUNG folks' recitations. Next, I start, and knit my brows, Hold my head erect : Something's wrong, you see, and I ' Decidedly object. Then I wabble at my knees. Clutch at shadows near, Tremble well from top to toe: That's the sign of fear. Now I start, and with a leap, Seize an airy dagger, " Wretch !" I cry : That's tragedy. Every soul to stagger. Then I let my voice grow faint. Gasp, and hold my breath. Tumble down and plunge about : That's a villain's death. Quickly then I come to life. Perfectly restored ; With a bow my speech is done. Now you'll please applaud. Mary Mapes Dodge, SPEAK THE TRUTH. SPEAK the truth! Speak it boldly, never fear, Speak it so that all may hear, In the end it shall appear Truth is best in age and youth ; Speak the truth. XCMBER ONE. 23 BATTLE BUNNY— MALVERN HILK [Vfter the men were ordered to lie down, a white rabbit, which had »»ce:i hopping hither and thither over the field swept by grai)e and mus- ketry, took refuge among ti^e skirniishers, in the breast of a corporaL] BUNNY, lying in the grass. Saw the shiny column pass. Saw the starry banner fly. Saw the chargers fret and fume. Saw the flapping hat and plume — Saw them with his moist and shy. Most unspeculative eye. Thinking only, in the dew, ** That it was a fine review — Till a flash, not all of steel. Where the rolling caisson's whed Brought a rumble and a roar Rolling down that velvet floor. And like blows of autumn flail Sharply threshed the iron haiL Bunny, thrilled by unknown feara. Raised his soft and pointed ears, • Mumbled his prehensile lip, Quivered his pulsating hip, As the sharp, vindictive yell Rose above the screaming shell : Thought the world and all its men^ All the charging squadrons meant All were rabbit hunters then, All to capture him intenL Bunny was not much to blame ; Wiser folk have thought the same- Wiser folk, who think they spy Every ill begins with " L" 24 YOUNG folks' recitations. Wildly ranting here and there. Bunny sought the freer air, Till he hopped below the hill. And saw lying, close and still, Men with muskets in their hands* • Never Bunny understands That hypocrisy of sleep. In the vigils grim they keep. As recumbent on that spot They elude the level shot. One — a gr^e and quiet man. Thinking of his wife and child Where the Androscoggin smiled — • Felt the little rabbit creep, Nestling by his arm and side. Wakened from strategic sleep. To that soft appeal replied, Drew him to his blackened breast^ And— But you have guessed the resL Softly o*er that chosen pair Omnipresent Love and Care Drew a mightier Hand and Arm, Shielding them from every harm ; Eight and left the bullets waved. Saves the savior for the saved. i.^ Who believes that equal grace God extends in every place. Little difference he s^ns *Twixt a rabbit's God and man^s. Bket Hartb. NUMBER ONE. 25 A CHILD'S WISDOM. 'rpWAS the hour of prayer, and the farmer stood, JL With a thankful heart and a lowly mind. And prayed to the Author of every good. That the Father of all would be very kind And bless His creatures with raiment and food. That His blessing each day might be renewed, That every want might find relief. And plenty for hunger, joy for grief. Be measured out by the merciful One, To all who suffered beneath the sun. The prayer concluded, the godly man Went forth in peace to inspect his farm ; And by his side, delighted ran. Blooming with every healthful charm, A little son, a sprightly boy, Whose home was love and whose life was joy. And they rambled over the golden fields. And the father said " The harvest yields A plentiful crop, my son, this year. My barns are too small for the grain, I fear.** And they wandered on through row upon row, Of plumy sheaves, till at length the child, With earnest look and a brighter glow On his shining face, looked up and smiled. And said, " My father, do you not pray For the poor and needy every day, That the good God would give the hungry food ?" " I do, my son." " Well, I think as you plead," His eye waxed bright, for his soul shone through it, •^That God, if He had your wheat, would do it," . ^ ^, J .. , J. , 26 YOUNG folks' recitations. THE NOBILITY OF LABOR. I CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken do^vn; and it has been broken down for ages. Let it, then, be built up again ; here, if anywhere, on these shores of a new world — of a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down ? Do not men toil ? it may be said. They do, indeed, toil ; but they, too, generally do it because they must. Many submit to it as, in some sort, a degrading necessity ; and they desire nothing so much on earth as escape from it. They fulfill the great law of labor in the letter, but break it in the spirit; fulfill it with the muscle, but break it with the mind. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten, a^ a chosen and coveted theatre of im- provement. But so is he not impelled to do, under the teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of thy dingy workshop and dusty labor-field; of thy hard hands, scarred with service more honorable than that of war ; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which Mother Nature has embroidered, 'midst sun and rain, 'midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors ? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? It is KUMEER ONE. 27 treason to Nature — it is impiety to Heaven — it is break- ing Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — toil, either of the brain, or of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility ! Eev. Orville Dewey. LAZY DAISY. LITTLE Daisy is so lazy This is what she does ; Just as soon as breakfast's eaten Off to bed she goes. Lazy Daisy ne'er was seen Reading in a book. But she loves to lie and sleep In a sunny nook. " Daisy, come and play with me," Little Ethel cries ; Daisy sleeps and nods away, Does n't wink her eyes. \ Daisy, though she's three years old, | Cannot tell her name ; t Does n't know her A, B, C : j Isn't it a shame? t I But she sings one little song, ^ Very soft and pretty : ' t Purr-purr-purr the whole day long- Daisy is a kitty. |] i: 28 YOUNG folks' recitations. THE MOON AND THE CHILD. A LITTLE child one winter night, Ere she was put to bed, Went out and saw the full clear moon, And in she ran and said — " Mamma ! mammaj come here ! come quick! Mamma ! God's gone to bed, And has not put His candle out ! " Hush, child !" the mother said, " God does not go to bed like us. Nor does He need to sleep." "And does He sit up all the night, Watch over us to keep ?'' " He watches o'er us night and day. But needs no light to see." " No light, mamma?" " No light, my child." " Mamma, how can it be?" " He makes the owls to see by night, As if the daylight shone ; And darkness is to Him as light, And eyes He needeth none." "No eyes! — then is He blind, mamma?'* " No, child. He sees so well. That everything is seen by Him In heaven, earth, and hell." " How strange, mamma, that He should see When He's so far away." " Not far, for He is everywhere, And with us night and day." NUMBER ONE. 29 "Why don't we Bee Him then, mamma?" " I cannot tell you how, But this I know, you cannot see The air you're breathing now; " And neither can you see my soul, Nor yet your owd, I ween. It is not then so very strange That God should not be seen. " Now go to bed, and ere you go To God your prayers say. That He may please to spare your life To see another day." George Jacque. THE SPARKLING BOWL. THOU sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl ! Though lips of bards thy brim may press. And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll, And song and dance thy power confess, I will not touch thee ; for there clings A scorpion to thy side that stings ! Thou crystal glass ! like Eden's tree, Thy melted ruby tempts the eye, And, as from that, there comes from thee The voice, " Thou shalt not surely die.'* I dare not lift thy liquid gem ; A snake is twisted round thy stem 1 oO YOUNG folks' RECITATIONS. What though of gold the goblet be, Emboss'd with branches of the vine. Beneath whose burnish'd leaves we see Such clusters as pour'd out the wine ? Among those leaves an adder hangs ! I fear him ; — for I've felt his fangs. Ye gracious clouds ! ye deep, cold wells I Ye gems, from mossy rocks that drip ! Springs, that from earth's mysterious cells Gush o'er your granite basin's lip! To you I look ; — your largess give. And I will drink of you, and live. John Pierpont. SWEET PEAS. "T)LEASE wear my rosebud, for love, papa," J- Said Phebe with eyes so blue. " This sprig of myrtle put with it, papa, To tell of my love," said Prue. Said Patience, " This heart' s-ease shall whisper, papa, Forget not my love is true." Papa looked into the laughing eyes. And answered, to each little girl's surprise : "My darlings, I thank you, but dearer than these — Forgive me — far dearer are bonnie sweet peas!" Then he clasped them to his heart so true, And whispered, " Sweet P's — ^Phebe, Patience, and Prue 1" LiL.IAN PaYSON. NUMBER ONE. 31 THE KING AND THE CHILD. THE sunlight shone on walls of stone And towers sublime and tall ; King Alfred sat upon his throne Within his council hall. And glancing o'er the splendid throng, With grave and solemn face, To where his noble vassals stood, He saw a vacant place. "Where is the Earl of Holderness?" With anxious look, he said. " Alas, O Kiug !" a courtier cried, ** The noble Earl is dead r Before the monarch could express The sorrow that he felt, A soldier with a war-worn face Approached the throne and knelt. " My sword," he said, " has ever been, O King! at thy command. And many a proud and haughty Dane Has fallen by my hand. "I've fought beside thee in the field. And 'neath the greenwood tree ; It is but fair for thee to give Yon vacant place to me." ** It is not just," a statesman cried, " This soldier's prayer to hear, My wisdom has done more for thee Than either sword or spear. 32 YOUNG folks' recitations. • " The victories of the council hall Have made thee more renown Than all the triumphs of the field Have given to thy crown. " My name is known in every land, My talents have been thine, Bestow this Earldom, then, on me, For it is justly mine." Yet, while before the monarch's throne These men contending stood, A woman crossed the floor who wore The weeds of widowhood. And slowly to King Alfred's feet A fair-haired boy she led — *'0 King! this is the rightful heir Of Holderness," she said. " Helpless he comes to claim his own, Let no man do him wrong. For he is weak and fatherless. And thou art just and strong." " What strength of power," the statesman cried, " Could such a judgment bring? - Can such a feeble child as this Do aught for thee, O King? " When thou hast need of brawny arms To draw thy deadly bow^s, When thou art wanting crafly men To crush tny mortal foes." NUMBER ONE. 33 With earnest voice the fair young boy Replied: " I cannot fight, But I can pray to God, O King ! And Heaven can give thee might !" The King bent down and kissed the child. The courtiers turned away. " The heritage is thine," he said, " Let none their right gainsay. " Our swords may cleave the casques of men, Our blood may stain the sod. But what are human strength and power Without the help of God!" Eugene J. Hall. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STAES? DO you know how many stars There are shining in the sky? Do you know how many clouds Every day go floating by? God in Heaven has counted all. He would miss one should it falL Do you know how many childr^i Go to little beds at night. And without a care or sorrow, Wake up in the morning light? Gt)d in Heaven each name can tell, Knows you, too, and knows you well^ 3 o4 YOUNG folks' KEriTATIONS. THE FATHERS OF tHE REPUBLIC. TO be cold and breathless, to feel not and speak not — this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their coun- try, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead ? Can you not still see him — not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouriug out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek and the fire of liberty in his eye ? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of independence is, indeed, motionless ; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed ; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, make it life to live — these cannot expire. Everett. A HORSE'S PETITION TO HIS DRIVER. UP the hill, whip me not ; down the hill, hurry me not ; in the stable, forget me not ; of hay and corn, rob me not ; of clean water, stint me not ; with sponge and brush, neglect me not ; of soft, dry bed, deprive me not ; if sick or cold, chill me not ; with bit and reins, oh 1 jerk nte not ; and when you are angry, strike me not NUMcrr. o^E. 35 ANTONY ON THE DEATH OF C^SAR. GOOD friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They, that have done this deed, are honorable : What private griefe they have, alas ! I know not, That made them do 't ; they are wise and honorable. And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I came not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; I ard no orator, as Brutus is ; But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man. That love my friend, and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech. To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; Show you sweet Csesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb moutha^ And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. Shakespeare. SOUR GRAPES. A FOX was trotting on one day, And just above his head He spied a vine of luscious grapes. Rich, ripe, and purple-red ; Eager he tried to snatch the fruit. But, ah I it was too high ! 36 YOUNG folks' recitations. Poor Reynard had to give it up, And, heaving a deep sigh, . He curl'd his nose and said, " Dear me 1 I would not waste an hour Upon such mean and common fruit — I'm sure those grapes are sour !" 'Tis thus we often wish thro' life, When seeking wealth and pow'r ; And when we fail, say, like the fox, We're ** sure the grapes are sour !" BE IN EARNEST. NEVER be ashamed to say, " I do not know." Men will then believe you when you say, ** I do know." Never be ashamed to say, " I can't afford it ;" " I can't afford to waste time in the idleness to which you invite me," or " I can't afford the money you ask me to spend." Never affect to be other than you are — either wiser or richer. Learn to say " No " with decision ; " Yes " with cau- tion. " No " with decision whenever it resists temptation ; " Yes " with caution whenever it implies a promise ; for a promise once given is a bond inviolable. A man is already of consequence in the world when it is known that we can implicitly rely upon him. Often have I known a man to be preferred in stations of honor and profit because he had this reputation : when he said he knew a thing, he knew it ; and when he said he would do a thing, he did it. BULWER. NUMBER ONE. 37 SUPPOSE. SUPPOSE, my little lady, Your doll should break her head. Could you make it whole by crying Till eyes and nose are red ? And wouldn't it be pleasanter To treat it as a joke, And say you're glad 'twas dolly's And not your head that broke? Suppose you're dressed for walking And the rain comes pouring down. Will it clear off any sooner Because you scold and frown ? And wouldn't it be nicer For you to smile than pout, And so make sunshine in the house When there is none without ? Suppose your task, my little man, Is very hard to get. Will it make it any easier For you to sit and fret? And wouldn't it be nicer Than waiting like a dunce, To go to work in earnest And learn the thing at once ? And suppose the world don't please you. Nor the way some people do. Do you think the whole creation Will be altered just for you ? 38 YOUNG folks' recitations. And isn't it, my boy or girl, The bravest, wisest plan Whatever comes or doesn't come. To do the best you can ? Phcebe Gary. THE SQUIRREL'S LESSON. TWO little squirrels, out in the sun, One gathered nuts, and the other had none; "Time enough yet," his constant refrain; " Summer is still only just on the wane." Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate: He roused him at last, but he roused him too late; Down fell the snow from a pitiless cloud, And gave little squirrel a spotless white shroud. Two little boys in a school-room were placed, On-e always perfect, the other disgraced ; "Time enough yet for my learning," he said ; " I will climb, by and by, from the foot to the head." Listen, my darling ; their locks are turned gray ; One as a Governor sitteth to-day; The other, a pauper, looks out at the door Of the almshouse, and idles his days as of yore. Two kinds of people we meet every day: One is at work, the other at play. Living uncared for, dying unknown — The busiest hive hath ever a drone. KUMBEK ONE. 39 HOMESICK. DOLLY knows what's the matter — Dolly and I. It isn't the mumps nor the measles — oh! dear, I shall die! It's the mothering we want, Dolly, the — what shall I call it? And grandpa says he has sent — he put the 'spatch safe in his wallet. I know well enough he dropped that telegraph 'spatch in the fire, If mother just knew, she'd come, if 'twas on the tele- graph wire! She'd take my poor head, that is splitting this very minute. And she'd sing " There's a Happy Land," and the hymn that has "Darling" in it. 'Course, I like grandpa's house ; it's the splendidest place to stay, When there's all the out-doors to live in, and nothing to do but play; Somehow you forget your mother — that is, just the lit- tlest bit. Though if she were here, I suppose that I shouldn't mention it. But oh! there's a difference, Dolly, when your head is so full of pains That ('cepting the ache that's in 'em) there's nothing left of your brains. Remember how nice it feels, Dolly, to have your head petted and "poored." Ache? Why, I ache all over, and my bed is as hard as a board. 40 YOUNG FOLKS PwECITATIONS. Nurse saya " It's a sweet, lovely morning.'* It may be for all that I care; There is just one spot in this great wide world that is pretty — I wish I was there ! I can see the white roses climbing all over the low porch door, And the daisies and buttercups growing — I never half loved them before. And mother — let's see ! she's standing in that very same door, no doubt ; She loves to look out in the morning and see what the world is about. In a pale-blue something-or-other — ^a loose sort of wrap- per, I guess ; As if a few yards of sky had been taken to make a dress. And up from the pine woods yonder comes a beautifiil woodsy smell, And the breeze keeps a hinting of May flowers — the real-pink arbutus bell ; And I think most likely the robins have built in the I cherry tree ; And by and by there'll be birdies — and I shall not be there to see ! Did you hear any noise, Dolly ! Speak, Dolly, you lit- « tie witch ! 1 As if something was laughing — or crying! I couldn't ^ tell which! NUMBER ONE. 41 We've kept from crying, so far; we've choked but we wouldn't cry ; Tve just talked it out to you, dear; I had to, or else Vo die. But if that is yon, mother — and I know hy your lips that it is — I'll just squeeze your head off! — you think that all I want is a kiss I O mother! to papa and Tom yon needn't go mention it, But you know it was homesickness almost killed your poor little Kit! WAR INEVITABLE. SIR, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable: and let it cornel I repeat it, sir, let it come ! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms I Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we 42 YOUNG FOLK?' rwECITATIONS. here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? For- bid it, Heaven! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death. Patrick Henry. THAT CALF. TO the yard, by the barn, came the farmer one mom, And, calling the cattle, he said. While they trembled with fright: "Now which of you, last night, Shut the barn door while I was abed?"' Each one of them all shook his head. Now the little calf Spot, she was down in the lot, And the way the rest talked was a shame; For no one, night before, saw her shut up the door; But they said that she did, all the same. For they always made her take the blame. Said the horse (dapple gray), " I was not up that way Last night, as I now recollect;" And the bull, passing by, tossed his horns very high, And said, " Let who may here object, I say this, that calf I suspect." Then out spoke the cow, "It is terrible now, To accuse honest folks of such tricks." Said the cock in the tree, " I'm sure 'twasn't me ;" And the sheep all cried, " Bah ! (there were six) Now that calf's got herself in a fix." rp^:;5^:^:.J^,»?^rv^^'-:'.^^5 NUMBER ONE. 43 •* Why, of course we all knew 'twas the wrong thing to do/' Said the chickens. " Of course," said the cat. •* I suppose/' cried the mule, " some folks think me a fool, But I'm not quite so simple as that ; The poor calf never knows what she's at." Just that moment, the calf, who was always the laugh And the jest of the yard, came in sight. ** Did you shut my barn door ?'' asked the farmer once more. " I did, sir, I closed it last night," Said the calf; " and I thought that was right." Then each one shook his head. " She will catch it," they cried, " Serves her right for her meddlesome ways." Said the farmer, " Come here, little bossy, my dear, You have done what I cannot repay. And your fortune is made from to-day. " For a wonder, last night, I forgot the door quite, And if you had not shut it so neat. All my colts had slipped in, and gone right to the bin, And got what they ought not to eat, They'd have foundered themselves upon wheat." Then each hoof of them all began loudly to bawl, The very mule smiled, the cock crew : " Little Spotty, my dear, you're a favorite here," They cried, " we all said it was you, We were so glad to give you your due." And the calf answered knowingly, " Boo !" Phcebe Gary. 44 YOUNG FOT.KS' RECITATIONS. JOHNNY THE STOUT, **TTO! forafroKcr JUL Said Johnny the stout; ** There's coasting and sledding— I'm going out" Scarcely had Johnny- Plunged in the snow, When there came a complaint Up from his toe : "We're cold,'* said the toe, " I and the rest ; There's ten of us freezing, Standing abreast." Then up spoke an ear ; " My, but it's labor — Playing in winter. Eh ! Opposite neighbor 1" " Pooh !" said his nose. Angry and red ; ** Who wants to tingle f Go home to bed !" Eight little fingers, Four to a thumb. All cried together — " Johnny, we're numb I** But Johnny the stout Wouldn't listen a minute; Never a snow bank But Johnny was in it. NUMBER ONE. 45 Tumbling and jumping, Shouting with glee, Wading the snow-drifts Up to his knee. Soon he forgot them — Fingers and toes, Never once thought of The ear and the nose. Ah ! What a frolic ! All in a glow, Johnny grew warmer Out in the snow. Often his breathing Came with a joke ; " Blaze away, Johnny ! I'll do the smoke." "And ril do the fire/' Said Johnny the bold. " Fun is the fuel For driving off cold.'' WHAT THE MINUTES SAT. WE are but minutes, little things, Each one furnished with sixty wing». With which we fly on our unseen track, And not a minute ever comes, back. 46 We are but minutes ; each one bears A little burden of joys and cares ; Take patiently the minutes of pain, The worst of minutes cannot remain. We are but minutes ; when we bring A few of the drops from Pleasure's spring, Taste their sweetness while yet ye may. It takes but a minute to fly away. THE LITTLE BOY'S LAMENT. OH ! why must I always be washed so clean And scrubbed and drenched for Sunday, When you know, very well, for you've always seen. That I'm dirty again on Monday ? My eyes are filled with the lathery soap. Which adown my ears is dripping ; And my smarting eyes I can scarcely ope, And my lips the suds are sipping. It's down my neck and up my nose, And to choke me you seem to be trying ; That I'll shut my mouth you need not suppose, For how can I keep from crying ? You rub as hard as ever you can, And your hands are hard, to my sorrow ; No woman shall wash me when I'm a man, And I wish I was one to-morrow. •Atf NUMBER ONE. NATURE. ^^ ^:^^.;f.: .^"^v. : ^^^i^iy/iijm^ 47 NATURE will be reported — all things are engaged in writing its history. The planet, the pebble, goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock leaves its scratches on the mountain, the river its channels in the soil, the animal its bones in the stratum, the fern and leaf their modest epitaph in the coal. The fallen drop makes its sculpture in the sand or stone; not a footstep in the snow, or along the ground, but prints, in characters more or less lasting, a map of its march ; every act of man inscribes itself in the memories of his fellows and in his own face. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens, the ground of memoranda and signa- tures, and every object is covered over with hints which speak to the intelligent. Hugh Miller. THE BOY AND THE FROG. SEE the frog, the slimy, green frog. Dozing away on that old rotten log ; Seriously wondering What caused the sundering Of the tail that he wore when a wee polly wog. See the boy, the freckled schoolboy. Filled with a wicked love to annoy, Watching the frog Perched on the log With feelings akin to tumultuous joy. 48 YOUNG folks' recitations. See the rock, the hard, flinty rock, Which the freckled-faced boy at the frog doth sock, Conscious he's sinning. Yet gleefully grinning At the likely result of its terrible shock. See the grass, the treacherous grass. Slip from beneath his feet ! Alas ! Into the mud With a dull thud He falls, and rises a slimy mass. Now, see the frog, the hilarious frog. Dancing a jig on his old rotten log, Applying his toes To his broad, blunt nose, As he laughs at the boy stuck fast in the bog. * * * H^ 5ic * Look at the switch, the hickory switch, Waiting to make that schoolboy twitch. When his mother knows The state of his clothes Won't he raise his voice to its highest pitch? NUMBER ONE. 49 HOMOEOPATHIC SOUP. TAKE a robin's leg (Mind, the drumstick merely), Put it in a tub Fill'd with water nearly ; Set it out-of-doors, In a place that's shady, Let it stand a week, — (Three days for a lady). Drop a spoonful of it In a five-pail kettle, Which may be made of tin Or any baser metal ; Fill the kettle up, Set it on a boiling, Strain the liquor well To prevent its oiling. One atom add of salt. For the thickening one rice kernel, And use to light the fire "The Homoeopathic Journal." Let the liquor boil Half-an-hour, no longer. If 'tis for a man Of course you'll make it stronger. Should you now desire That the soup be flavory, Stir it once around With a stalk of savory. 4 50 YOUNG folks' Ri:CrTATIO^'S. When the broth is made. Nothing can excel it; Then three times a day Let the patient smell it. If he chance to die, Say 'twas Nature did it ; If he chance to live, Give the soup the credit. LINES TO KATE. THERE'S something in the name of Kate, Which many will condemn ; But listen now while I relate The trials of some of them. There's advo-Kate, a charming miss ; Could you her hand obtain, She'll lead you in the path of bliss. Nor plead your cause in vain. There's deli-Kate, a modest dame. And worthy of your love ; She's nice and beautiful in frame, As gentle as a dove. Communi-Kate's intelligent. As we may well suppose ; Her fruitful mind is ever bent On telling what she knows. There's intri-Kate; she's so obscure 'Tis hard to find her out, For she is often very sure To put your wits to rout. NUMBER ONE. 51 Prevari-Kate's a stubborn mind, She's sure to have her way ; The cavilling, contrary jade Objects to all j^ou say. There's alter-Kate, a perfect pest, Much given to dispute ; Her prattling tongue can never rest ; You cannot her refute. There's dislo-Kate, quite in a fret. Who fails to gain her point; Her case is quite unfortunate, And sorely out of joint. * Equivo-Kate no one will woo, The thing would be absurd ; She is faithless and untrue. You cannot take her word. There's vindi-Kate ; she's good and true. And strives with all her might Her duty faithfully to do, And battles for the right. There's rusti-Kate, a country lass, Quite fond of rural scenes ; She likes to ramble through the grasi. And through the evergreens. Of all the maidens you can find. There's none like edu-Kate ; Because she elevates the mind. And aims for something great. 52 YOXTNG folks' RECITATIONS. GRAND SCHEME OF EMIGRATION, THE Brewers should to Malt-a go, The Loggerheads to Scilly, The Quakers to the Friendly Isles, The Furriers all to Chili. The little squalling, brawling brats, That break our nightly rest, Should be packed off to Baby-Ion, To Lap-land, or to Brest. From Spit-head Cooks go o'er to Greece ; And while the Miser waits His passage to the Guinea coast, Spendthrifts are in the Straits. Spinsters should to the Needles go, Wine-bibbers to Burgundy ; Gourmands should lunch ^-t Sandwich Isles, Wags in the Bay of Fundy. Musicians hasten to the Sound, The surpliced Priest to Rome, While still the race of Hypocrites At Cant-on are at home. Lovers should hasten to Good Hope; To some Cape Horn is pain ; Debtors should go to Oh i-o. And Sailors to the Main-e. Hie, Bachelors, to the \ Inited States I Maids to the Isle of Man ; Let Gardeners go to Botany Bay, And Shoeblacks to Japan. NUMBER ONE. 53 Thus, emigrants and misplaced men Will no longer vex ns; And all that ar'n't provided for Had better go to Texas. BRAVE AND TRUE. WHATEVER you are, be brave, boys ! The liar's a coward and slave, boys 1 Though clever at ruses, And sharp at excuses. He's a sneaking and pitiful knave, boys Whatever you are, be frank, boys ! Tis better than money and rank, boys ; Still cleave to the right, Be lovers of light, Be open, above board, and frank, boys ! Whatever you are, be kind, boys ! Be gentle in manner and mind, boys; The man gentle in mien. Words, and temper, I ween, Is the gentleman truly refined, boys ! But, whatever you are, be true, boys ! Be visible through and through, boys ! Leave to others the shamming. The "greening" and " cramming," In fun and in earnest, be true, boys ! Henry Dowin'ojr. 54 YOUXG folks' rfcitatioxs. THE COBBLER. [This selection may be rendered very effective, if the reader, following the meaning oi the text, should imitate the movements of a cobbler, bending forward, stitching and fitting, sewing motion, boring a hole, sticking in pegs, and hammering with fingers.] WANDERING up and down one day, I pefeped into a window over the way ; And putting his needle through and through, There sat the cobbler making a shoe. For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; All he wants is his elbow-room, Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too, This is the way he makes a shoe. Over lasts of wood, his bits of leather He stretches and fits, then sews together ; He puts his waxed-ends through and through, And still as he stitches, hia body goes too. For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; All he want3 is his elbow-room, Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too, This is the way he makes a shoe. With his little sharp awl he makes a hole Right through the upper and through the sole He puts in one peg, or he puts in two. And chuckles and laughs as he hammers them through. For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; All he wants is his elbow-room, Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too. This is the way he makes a shoe. XrMBKR ONE. WHAT'S THE MATTER? 55 I WONDER if the little birds That soar above my head Are scolded all the sunny day. And then sent off to bed ? I almost wish I was a bird, And had a pair of wings ; I'd fly away from this dull place And all these stupid things. There's always such a dreadful fuss If I do what I've a mind; Mother looks bo sorrowful, I half wish I were blind. I'm sure 'tis not bo very wrong For girls to like to play ; I don't know why they want us to Be studying all day. I haven't learned my lesson yet. Or sewed that horrid seam ; I've broke my doll and sent my swing Above the highest beam. Everything is going wrong, And has been all the day. I hate to work, and seems to me I almost hate to play. I wonder why I feel so cross . When mother is so kind ; She sighs and speaks so very low When I don't want to mind. 56 YOUNG folks' recitations. I am a naughty, willful girl — I know it all the while; I'll run and tell dear mother so. And then how soon she'll smile. And if I live to see the sun Upon another day, I'll find my highest happiness In a less selfish way. H. K. P. PEACEABLE SECESSION. SECESSION! Peaceable secession! Sir, your cye» and mine are never destined to see that miracle! The dismemberment of this vast country without con- vulsion ! The breaking up of the fountains of the great deep without ruffling the surface! Who is so foolish — I beg everybody's pardon — as to expect to see any such thing? Sir, he who sees these States now revolving in harmony around a common centre, and expects to see them quit their places, and fly ofi* without convulsion, may look the next hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres and jostle against each other in the realms of space without causing the crush of the universe. There can be no such thing as peaceable secession. Peaceable secession is an utter impossibility. Is the great Constitution under which we live, cover- ing this whole country — is it to be thawed and melted away by secession, as the snows on the mountain melt under the influence of a vernal sun, disappear almost unobserved and run off? No, sir ! No, sir ! I will not ^^^p^^^-v^-:\i'^f.z T'r - -, , -,'^,-'r, NUMBL'Il OXE. 57 state what might produce the disruption of the Union ; but, sir, I see as plainly as I see the sun in heaven, what that disruption itself must produce ; I see that it must jproduce war, and such a war as I will not describe in its twofold character. Webster, BABY'S SOLILOQUY. [The following selection can be made very humorous if the person reading it assumes the tones of a very" little child, and in appropriate places imitates the cry of a baby.] I AM here. And if this is what they call the worldj^ I don't think much of it. It's a very flannel ly world, and smells of paregoric awfully. It's a dreadful light world, too, and makes me blink, I tell you. And I don't know what to do with my hands ; I think I'll dig my fists in my eyes. No, I won't. I'll scratch at the corner of my blanket and chew it up, and then I'll holler; whatever happens, I'll holler. And the more paregoric they give me, the louder I'll yell. That old nurse puts the spoon in the corner of my mouth, side- wise like, and keeps tasting my milk herself all the while. She spilt snuff in it last night, and when I hollered she trotted me. That comes of being a two- days-old baby. Never mind; when I'm a man, I'll pay her back good. There's a pin sticking in me now, and if I say a word about it, I'll be trotted or fed ; and I would rather have catnip-tea. I'll tell you who I am. I found out to-day. I heard folks say, " Hush ! don't wake up Emeline's baby ; and I suppose that pretty, white-faced woman over on the pillow is Emeline, 58 YOUNG FOLKS RECITATIONS. No, I was mistaken ; for a chap was in here just now and wanted to see Bob's baby ; and looked at me and said I was a funny little toad, and looked just like Bob. He smelt of cigars. I wonder who else I belong to! Yes, there's anotker one — that's "Gamma." "It was Gamma's baby, so it was." I declare, I do not know who I belong to ; but I'll holler, and maybe I'll find out. There comes snufiy with catuip-tea. I'm going to sleep. I wonder why my hands won't go where I want them to ! A TRIBUTE TO WATER. WHERE is the liquor which God the eternal brews for all His children ? Not in the simmering still, over smoky fires choked with poisonous gases, and sur- rounded with the stench of sickening odors and rank corruptions, doth your Father in heaven prepare the precious essence of life — the pure cold water. But iu the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God brews it. And down, low down in the deepest valleys, where the fountains murmur and the rills sing; and high upon the tall mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold in the sun ; where the storm-cloud broods, and the thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the wide, wild sea, where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves roar, the chorus sweeping the march of God: there He brews it — that beverage of life and health- giving water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty ; gleaming in the dew-drop, singing in the summer rain, shining in the ice-gem till the leaves all seemed turned NUMBER ONE. 59 to living jewels, spreading a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around the midnight moon. Sporting in the cataract; sleeping in the glacier; dancing in the hail-shower; folding its bright snow cur- tains softly about the wintry world ; and waving the many- colored iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain-drop of earth, whose woof is the sun- beam of heaven; all chequered over with celestial flowers by the mystic baud of refraction. Still always it is beautiful, that life-giving water ; no poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not mad- ness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass ; pale widows and starving orphans weep no burning tears in its depths ; no drunken shrieking ghost from the grave curses it in the words of eternal despair. Speak, my friends, would you exchange it for demon's drink, alcohol? John B. Gough. GRANDPAPA'S SPECTACLES. GRANDPAPA'S spectacles cannot be found ! He has searched all the rooms, high and low, round and round ; * Now he calls to the young ones, and what does he say 1 "Ten cents" to the child who will find them to-day. Then Harry and Nelly and Edward all ran. And a most thorough search for the glasses began. And dear little Nell in her generous way Said, " I'll look for them, Grandpa, without any pay." 60 YOUNG folks' recitations. All through the big Bible she searched with care. It lies on the table by Granpapa's chair. They feel in his pockets, they peep in his hat, They pull out the sofa and shake out the mat. Then down on the floor, like good-natured bears, Go Harry and Ned under tables and chairs, Till quite out of breath, Ned is heard to declare. He believed that those glasses are not anywhere. But Nelly, who, leaning on Grandpapa's knee. Was thinking most earnestly, '' where can they be V Looked suddenly up in the kind, faded eyes. And her own shining brown ones grew big with surprise She clapped with her hands, all her dimples came out. She turned to the boys with a bright, roguish shout, " You may leave off your looking, both Harry and Ned, For there are the glasses on Grandpapa's head." SIN. TTSE sin as it will use you ; spare it not, for it will vJ not spare you ; it is your murderer, and the mur- derer of the world ; use it, therefore, as a murderer should be used. Kill it before it kills you ; and though it kill your bodies, it shall not be able to kill your souls ; and though it bring you to the grave, as it did your Head, it shall not be able to keep you there. Baxter. NUMBEPw ONE. 61 FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND. IN seventeen hundred thirty-two, This very month and day, Winking and blinking at the light, A little babj- lay. No doubt they thought the little man A goodly child enough ; But time has proved that he was made Of most uncommon stuff. The little babe became a man That everybody knew Would finish well what he began, And prove both firm and true. So when the Revolution came, That made our nation free, They couldn't find a better man For general, you see. As general, he never failed Or faltered ; so they thought He ought to be the President, And so I'm sure he ought. And then he did his part so well As President — 'twas plain They couldn't do a better thing Than choose him yet again. Through all his life they loved him well, And mourned him when he died ; And ever since his noble name Has been our nation's pride. i 62 YOUNG folks' recitations. The lesson of his life is clear, And easy quite to guess, Be firm and true, if you would make Your life a grand success. Joy Allison. THE STOLEN CUSTARD. S' tUGAR-TOOTHED Dick For dainties was sick, So he slyly stole into the kitchen, Snatched a cup from the pantry, And darted out quick. Unnoticed by mother or Gretchen. Whispered he, " There's no cake, For to-morrow they bake, But this custard looks rich and delicious; How they'll scold at the rats. Or the mice, or the cats ; For of me I don't think they're suspicious. "They might have filled up Such a mean little cup ! And for want of a spoon I must drink it: m But 'tis easy to pour — Hark! who's at the door?" And the custard went down ere you'd think it. With a shriek he sprang up ; To the floor dashed the cup; Then he howled, tumbled, sputtered, and blustered, Till the terrible din Brought the whole household in — He had swallowed a cupful of mustard I NUMBER ONE. 63 SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. THE woman was old, and ragged, and gray. And bent with the chill of a winter's day; The streets were white with a recent snow, And the woman's feet with age were slow. At the crowded crossing she waited long, Jostled aside by the careless throng Of human beings who passed her by. Unheeding the glaoce of her anxious eye. Down the street with laughter and shout, Clad in the freedom of " school let out," Come happy boys, like a flock of sheep, Hailing the snow piled white and deep; Past the woman, so old and gray, Hastened the children on their way. None offered a helping hand to her. So weak and timid, afraid to stir, Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet Should trample her down in the slippery street At last came out of the merry troop The gayest boy of all the group ; He paused beside her, and whispered low, " I'll help you across, if you wish to go." Her aged hand on his strong young arm She placed, and so without hurt or harm, He guided the trembling feet along, Proud that his own were young and strong; Then back again to his friends he went. His young heart happy and well content. 64 YOUNG folks' recitations. "She's somebody's mother, boys, you know, For all she's aged, aud poor, and slow ; And some one, some time, may lend a hand To help my mother — you understand? — If ever she's poor, and old, and gray, And her own dear boy so far away." "Somebody's mother" bowed low her head. In her home that night, and the prayer she said Was: "God, be kind to that noble boy, Who is somebody's son, and pride, and joy." Faint was the voice, and worn and weak, But the Father hears when His children speak ; Angels caught the faltering word. And "Somebody's Mother's" prayer was heard. Macmillan. WILLIE'S BREECHES. I'M just a little boy, you know. And hardly can remember. When people ask how old I am, To tell 'em four last 'vember. And yet for all I am so small, I made so many stitches For mamma's fingers, that she put Her little boy in breeches. You may be sure that I was glad ; I marched right up and kissed her, Then gave my bibs and petticoats, And all, to baby sister. NUMBER ONE. 65 I never whine, now I'm so fine. And don't get into messes ; For mamma says, if I am bad, She'll put me back in dresses ! There's buttons up and down my leg«. And buttons on my jacket; I'd count 'em all, but baby makes Just now, an awful racket. She's sitting there, behind the chair, With blocks, and dolls, and kitty, A playing "gp to gran'ma's house," Alone, 'n that's a pity. I think I'll go and help her some, I'm sure it would amuse me ; So I won't bother any more To talk— if you'll excuse me- But first I'll stand before the glass, From top to toe it reaches : Now look! there's head, and hands, and feet, But all the rest is breeches! Etta G. Salsbury. WORK. THERE is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. Were he ever so benighted, or forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works ; in idleness alone there is perpetual despair. Consider how, even in the meanest sorts of labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into real 6 GS YOUNG folks' recitations. harmony. He bends himself with free valor against his task; and doubt, desire, sorrow, remorse, indignation, despair itself, shrink murmuring far off in their caves. The glow of labor in him is a purifying fire, wherein all poison is burned up ; and of smoke itself there is made a bright and blessed flame. Blessed is he who has found his work ; let him ask no other blessedness ; he has a life purpose. Labor is life. From the heart of the worker rises the celestial force, breathed into him by Almighty God, awakening him to all nobleness, to all knowledge. Hast thou valued patience, courage, openness to light, or readiness to own thy mistakes ? In wrestling with the dim brute powers of fact thou wilt continually learn. For every noble work the possibilities are diffused through immensity, undiscoverable, except to faith. Man, sou of heaven ! is there not in thine inmost heart a spirit of active method, giving thee no rest till thou unfold it? Complain not Look up. See thy fellow-workmen surviving through eternity, the sacred band of immortals. Thomas Carlyle. LOVELINESS. OlsrCE I knew a little girl. Very plain ; You might try her hair to curl All in vain ; On her cheek no tint of rose Paled and blushed, or sought repose; She was plain. NUMBER ONE. 67 But the thoughts that through her brain Came and went, As a recompense for pain, Angels sent ; So full many a beauteous thing, In her young soul blossoming. Gave content. Every thought was full of grace, Pure and true, And in time the homely face Lovelier grew ; With a heavenly radiance bright, From the soul's reflected light Shining through. So I tell you, little child. Plain or poor, If your thoughts are undefiled, You are sure Of the loveliness of worth ; And this beauty not of earth Will endure. Maria Lacet. BEING A BOY. ONE of the best things in the world to be is a boy ; it requires no experience, though it needs some practice to be a good one. The disadvantage of the position is that he does not last long enough. It is soon over. Just as you get used to being a boy, you have to be something else, with a good deal more work to do ■Ir'v^^irfP^ 68 YOUNG folks' recitations. and not half so much fun. And yet every boy is anxious to be a man, and is very uneasy with the restrictions that are put upon him as a boy. There are sb many bright spots in the life of a farm boy that I sometimes think I should like to live the life over again. I should almost be willing to be a girl if it were not for the chores. There is a great comfort to a boy in the amount of work he can get rid of doing. It is sometimes aston- ishing how slow he can go on an errand. Perhaps he couldn't explain, himself, why, when he is sent to the neighbor's after yeast, he stops to stone the frogs. He is not exactly cruel, but he wants to see if he can hit 'em. It is a curious fact about boys, that two will be a great deal slower in doing anything than one. Boys have a great power of helping each other do nothing. But say what you will about the general usefulness of boys, a farm without a boy would very soon come to grief. He is always in demand. In the first place, he is to do all the errands, go to the store, the post-office, and to carry all sorts of messages. He would like to have as many legs as a wheel has spokes, and rotate about in the same way. This he sometimes tries to do, and people who have seen him "turning cart-wheels" along the side of the road have supposed he was amus- ing himself and idling his time. He was only trying to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he could economize his legs and do his errands with greater dis- patch. Leap-frog is one of his methods of getting over the ground quickly. He has a natural genius for com- bining pleasure with business. Charles Dudley Warner. NUMBER ONE. WE MUST ALL SCRATCH. SAID the first little chicken, With a queer little squirm, " I wish I could find A fat little worm." Said the next little chicken, AVith an odd little shrug, " I wish I could find A fat little bug." Said the third little chicken. With a sharp little squeal, " I wish I could find Some nice yellow meal." Said the fourth little chicken, With a small sigh of grief, " I wish I could find A green little leaf." Said the fifth little chicken, With a faint little moan, ** I wish I could find A wee gravel stone." ** Now, see here," said the mother, From the green garden patch, " If you want any breakfast, Just come here and scratch." 69 m^M^ 70 YOUNG folks' recitations. BLOWING BUBBLES. WHERE the grass had been newly mown, Before a rustic cottage home, An idle schoolboy strolled away, To waste his time in childish play. The school-bell rang, but there stood he, Happy as ever boy could be, Free from books, and schoolboy troubles. With grandpa's pipe, blowing bubbles. Away went bubbles, thick and fast. Like sparks from out a furnace blast, His eyes as large as saucers grew. As higher up the bubbles flew. With outstretched mouth and beaming eyes. He watched them, mounting toward the skies. And shook all over with delight. To see them vanish out of sight. While Conrad thus his time employed. His grandpapa was much annoyed ; When from a nap he soon awoke. And rose to take his wonted smoke. He seized his stout " Old Hickory" cane, Went quick to where his pipe had lain, But looked the picture of despair. To find the pipe no longer there. KUMBER ONE. 71 In every nook and corner then, Through all the rooms, where he had been. He went to work with vigorous mind, Its secret hiding-place to find. He put his glasses on his nose, Old-fashioned " specs " with iron bows, Then turned about, and looked again, Where he had looked before in vain. But when his pipe could not be found, His groans were heard the house around, While, sad to tell, his pet grandchild Was blowing bubbles all this while. That good old face, superbly hale. Suddenly turned to ghastly pale ; He staggered back upon his bed, Where Conrad came, and found him dead. The doctors all at once agreed That he had died (if dead indeed) From causes to themselves unknown, " Unless the want of smoke alone," In yonder church-yard, down the lane, A tombstone stands, with grandpa's name. Where all old smokers well can see How sad a fate their own may be. That marble shaft, erect and trim. Bears on its side Death's face so grim, With broken pipe carved underneath. And these few words " in bass-relief;" 72 YOUNG folks' recitations. **For want of smoke, this old man died, Of all things else he had enough ; His good wife rests here by his side, Who died of using too much snuff." Rev. O. F. Starkey. WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN. WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock, And the clackin' of the guineys and the cluckin' of the hens. And the rooster's hallylooyer, as he tiptoes on the fence, Oh ! it's then the time a feller is a feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of gracious rest. As he leaves the house bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. They's somepin kind o' heartylike about the atmos- phere When the heat of summer's over and the coolin'.fall is here — Of course we miss the flowers and the blossoms on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin' birds, and buzzin' of the bees ; NUMBER ONE. * 73 But the air^s so appetizin', and the land^ra^ .hrough the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the eMfy iiiti^jan days Is a picture that no painter has the ccJorin' to mock — When the frost is on the punkin anJ the fodder's in the shock. The husky, rusty rustle of the tossei^s of the corn, And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn ; The stubble in the furries, tiDu o' lonesome like, but still A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder and the reaper in the shed ; The bosses in the stalls below, the clover overhead ; Oh ! it sets my heart a clickin', like the tickin' of a clock. When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock ! AMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO ENGLAND. THE honorable gentleman has asked : " And now, will these Americans, children planted by our care, nourished up by our indulgence and protected by our arms — will they grudge to contribute their mite T* They planted by your care? No, your oppressions planted them in America ! They fled from your tyranny to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country. There they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships to which human nature is liable. 74 YOUNG folks' recitations. They nourished up by your indulgence? They grew by your neglect of them. As soon as you began to care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons to rule them, to spy out their liberties, to misrepresent their actions, to prey upon their substance. They protected by your arms? They have nobly taken up arms in your defense — have exerted their valor for your own emolument. And believe me — remember I this day told you so — that same spirit of freedom which actuated these Americans at first will accompany them still. They are now as truly loyal as any subjects the King has, but they are a people jealous of their liberties, and a people who will vindicate those liberties to the last drop of their blood. Colonel Babre. PLANTING HIMSELF TO GROW. DEAR little, bright-eyed Willie, Always so full of glee. Always so very mischievous, The pride of our home is he. One bright summer day we found him Close by the garden wall, Standing so grave and dignified Beside a sunflower tall. His tiny feet he had covered With the moist and cooling saiid ; The stalk of the great, tall sunflower He grasped with his chubby hand. NUMBER ONE. 75 When he saw us standing near him, Gazing so wonderiugly At his babyship, he greeted us With a merry shout of glee. We asked our darling what pleased him ; He replied, with a face aglow, ** Mamma, I'm going to be a man ; I've planted myself to grow," DIGNITY IN LABOR. IN the search after true dignity, you may point me to the sceptred prince, ruling over mighty empires, to the lord of broad acres teeming with fertility, or the ow^ner of coffers bursting with gold ; you may tell me of them or of learning, of the historian or of the philoso- pher, the poet or the artist, and, while prompt to render such men all the honor which in varying degrees may be their due, I would emphatically declare that if&ither power nor nobility, nor wealth, nor learning, nor genius, nor benevolence, nor all combined, have a monopoly of dignity. I would take you to the dingy office, where day by day the pen plies its weary task ; or to the shop, where from early morning till half the world have sunk to sleep, the necessities and luxuries of life are distributed, with scarce an interval for food, and none for thought; I would descend farther, I would take you to the plowman, plodding along his furrows ; to the mechanic, throwing the swift shuttle or tending the busy wheels; to the miner, groping his darksome way in the deep caverns of earth ; to the man of the trowel, the 76 YOUNG folks' recitations. hammer, or the forge, and if, while he diligently prose- cutes his humble toil, he looks up with a brave heart and loving eye to heaven — if in what he does he recog- nizes his God, and expects his wages from on high — ^if, Vhile thus laboring on earth, he anticipates the rest of heaven, and can say, as did a poor man once, who, when pitied on account of humble lot, said, taking off his hat, "Sir, I am the son of a King, I am a child of God, and when I die, angels will carry me from this Union Work- house direct to the Court of Heaven." Then, having shown you such a spectacle, may I not ask — Is there not dignity in labor ? Newman Hall. WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, BABY? "TT7HERE did you come from, baby dear?" T » "Out of the every-where into the here."* **Wnere did you get your eyes so blue?" "Out of the sky as I came through," "What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?" "Some of the starry spikes left in." "Where did you get that little tear?" "I found it waiting when I got here." "What makes your forehead so smooth and high?" "A soft hand stroked it as I went by." **What makes your cheek like a warm white roser' "Something better than any one knows." NUMBER ONE. 77 *' Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?" " Three angels gave me at once a kiss." " Where did you get that pearly ear ?" " God spoke, and it came out to hear." " Where did you get those arms and hands ?" " Love made itself into hooks and bands." " Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ?" *'From the same body as the cherubs' wings." "How did they all just come to be you ?" "God thought about me, and so I grew." "But how did you come to us, my dear?" *Gk)d thought of you, and so I am here." George Macdonaldw A LITTLE BOY'S TROUBLES. I THOUGHT when I'd learned my letters That all of my troubles were done; But I find.myself much mistaken — They only have just begun. Learning to read was awful, But nothing like learning to write ; I'd be sorry to have you tell it, But my copy-book is a sight! The ink gets over my fingers ; The pen cuts all sorts of shines, And won't do at all as I bid it ; lau letters won't stay on the linea^ 78 YOUNG folks' eecitations. But go up and down and all over, As though they were dancing a jig — They are there in all shapes and sizes, Medium, little, and big. The tails of the g's are so contrary. The handles get on the wrong side Of the d's, and the k's, and the h's. Though I've certainly tried and tried To make them just right; it is dreadful, I really don't know what to do, I'm getting almost distracted — My teacher says she is too. There'd be some comfort in learning j If one could get through : instead , Of that there are books awaiting * Quite enough to craze my head. ; There's the multiplication table, j And grammar, and — oh ! dear me, 1 There's no good place for stopping * When one has begun, I see. ^ My teacher says, little by little • j To the mountain tops we climb; \ It isn't all done in a minute, \ But only a step at a time ; j She says that all the scholars, 1 All the wise and learned men. Had each to begin as I do ; \ If that's so, Where's my pen ? i Carlotta Perbt, i NUMBER ONE. 79 NOTES FEOM A BATTLE-FIELD. '■•:1 THE farmer and the farmer's wife A setting hen defied, And for awhile glad victory seemed To crown the aggressor's side. The coach-house was the battle-field^ And Biddy's will was firm, Within its sacred precincts there To serve her little term. What though they shut the woodshed d^^***^ And showed her there a nest — Filled to the very brim with eggs — To soothe her ruffled breast. This Biddy knew a thing or two. And, from a window high, Back to her chosen nest again Triumphantly did fly ! 'Twas shoo ! here, and shoo ! there, And shriek, aiyi squawk, and flutter, Until that peaceful farm was filled With noises just too utter ! The angry farmer lost his wits, The wife her apron shook. And all because this setting hen Had such determined look. They poked her, they punched her; They breathed in accents dire ; But yet that fussy feathered fowl Her purpose kept entire. ^0 YOUNG folks' recitations. And even though a wagon-pole Was brandished at a pinch, They could not scare nor terrify Nor budge that hen an inch. At last the farmer charged the hen, But punched a mild-eyed cow, Who poked the horse, who kicked the pig, Who raised a dreadfiil row. Th* pig broke out and found his way Down to the garden bed. And followed on his martial heels The horse with frantic tread. They visited the rows of beets, The hills of ear ly^ corn. The hot-beds and the lettuce-beds, And left them all forlorn. And all that day, and all next week. The farmer did repair ; His woodshed door is fastened still, But Biddy is not there. Look for her in the carriage-house. Where, prickly as a thistle. That setting hen is sitting yet, In one perpetual bristle. The farmer and the farmer's wife At last have had to yield. And Biddy sits victorious Upon that battle-field. nu.^jbi:r ONfi. 81 O fickle goddess Victory ! To thus desert us men, And give the plume of conqueror To keeping of a hen ! Dear me ! what are we coming to, To thus disgrace our sires ? What shall we tell posterity If any one inquires ? S. C. Stone. THREE GOOD DOCTORS. THE best of all the pilf-box crew Since ever time began, Are the doctors who have most to do With the health of a hearty man. And so I count them up again, And praise them as I can ; There's Dr. Diet, and Dr. Quiet, And Dr. Merryman. There's Dr. Diet, he tries my tongue, " I know you well," says he ; * Your stomach is poor, and your liver is sprung; We must make your food agree." And Dr. Quiet, he feels my wrist, And he gravely shakes his head, ** Now, now, dear sir, I must insist That you go at ten to bed^" 6 ^:s(my 82 YOUNG folks' Rl citations. But Dr. Merryman for me, Of all the pill-box crew ! For he smiles and says, as he fobs his fee, " Laugh on, whatever you do !'' So now I eat what I ought to eat, And at ten I go to bed. And I laugh in the face of cold or heat ; For thus have the doctors said ! And so I count them up again, And praise them as I can ; There's Dr. Diet, and Dr. Quiet, And Dr. Merryman. S. W. DUFFIELD, D. D ON CONQUERING AMERICA. YOU cannot, I venture to say, you cannot conquer America. Your armies in the last war effected everything that could be effected, and what was it? What is your present situation ? We do not know the worst, but we know that in seven campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. . As to conquest, therefore, I repeat it, that is impos- sible. You may swell every effort and every expense still more extravagantly; pile and accumulate every assistance you can buy or borrow ; traffic and barter with evefy little pitiful Oerman prince that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of a foreign country : your efforts are forever impotent and vain. They are doubly impotent and vain from this mer- KUMBER ONE. 83 cenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to an in- curable resentment, the minds of your enemies to over- run them with the sordid sons of rapine and of plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as lam an Englishman, while a foreign troop was lauded in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never ! never ! never ! Lord Chatham. THE i:n^dian brave. I AM fresh from the conflict — I'm drunk with the blood Of the white men, who chased me o'er prairie and flood, Till I trapped them at last, and exultingly swore That my fearless red warriors should revel in gore! I have well kept my oath, O Manitou, the Just! Three hundred white hirelings are low in the dust. The unequal conflict was bloody and brief. And they weep for their men and their golden-haired chief I hate the palefaces! I'll fight to the death While the prairies are mine, and a warrior has breath ! By the bones of our fathers, whose ruin they wrought, When they first trod our land, and for sympathy sought — By the souls of our slain, when our villages burned — By all the black vices our people have learned, No season of rest shall my enemies see. Till the earth drinks my blood, or my people are free Francis S. Smith 84 YOUNG folks' rvECITATTONS. JOHNNY'S POCKET. i DO you know what's in my pottet? Such a lot o' treasures in it ! Listen, now, while I bedin it ; Such a lot o* sings it hold. And all there is you sail be told — Everysin' dat's in my pottet, And when, and where, and how I dot it. \ First of all, here's in my pottet ' A beauty shell; I picked it up ; ; And here's the handle of a cup That somebody has broke at tea ; The shell's a hole in it, you see; Nobody knows that I have dot it, I keep it safe here in my pottet. And here's my ball, too, in my pottet. And here's my pennies, one, two, three, That Aunt Mary gave to me; To-morrow day I'il buy a spade, When I'm out walking with the maid. I can't put dat here in my pottet. But I can use it when I've dot it. Here's some more sin's in my pottet ; Here's my lead, and here's my string, And once I had an iron ring, But through a hole it lost one day ; And here is what I always say — A hole's the worst sin in a pottet — Have it mended when you've dot it. Nu:MBErw ONE. 85 SIX O'CLOCK P.M. THE workshops open wide their doors At six o'clock p. M., And workmen issue forth by scores At six o' clock p. M. Of all the minutes in array, Or hours that go to make the day, There's none so welcome, so they say, As six o'clock p. m. How many children show delight At six o'clock p. M., How many homes are rendered bright At six o'clock p. M. How many little happy feet Go out into the busy street. With joyous bounds papa to meet. At six o'clock p. M. Thousands of tables draped in whit« At six o'clock p. M., The gathered families invite At six o'clock p. M. And as they eat the frugal fare, They quite forget their toil and care, And drop their heavy burdens there, At six o'clock p. M. Then blow, ye shrieking whistles, blow I At six o'clock p. M., King out, releasing bells, ring out I And bid the welkin take the shout. And echo it all round about, "'Tis six o'clock P.M." 86 YOUNG folks' eecitations. A SOLLUM FAC. A WERRY funny feller is de ole plantation mule ; J^ Au' nobody'll piay wid him unless he is a fool. De bestest ting to do w'en you meditates about him, Is to kinder sorter calkerlate you'll get along widout him. Wen you try to 'proach dat mule from de front endwise, He look as meek as Moses, but his looks is full ob lies ; He doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't even wink ; An' you say his dispersition's better'n people tink. He Stan' so still you s'pose he is a monument of grace ; An' you almos' see a 'nevolent expression on his face; But dat 'nevolent expression is de mask dat's allers worn ; For ole Satan is behin' it jest as sure as you is born. Den you cosset him a little, an' you pat his other end, An' you has a reverlation dat he aint so much your friend ; You has made a big mistake; but before de heart repents, You is histed werry sudden to de odder side de fence. Well, you feel like you'd been standin' on de locomotive track An' de engine come an' hit you in de middle ob de back ; You don' know wat has happened, you can scarcely cotch your breff; But you tink you've made de 'quaintance ob a werry vi'lent deff. Kow a sin in de soul is percisely like de mule ; An' nobodyll play wid it, unless he is 3 fool. It looks so mitey innercent; but honey, dear, beware! For although de kick is hidden, de kick is allers there. NUMBER ONE. THE LITTLE LIGHT. THE light shone dim on the headland, For the storm was raging high ; I shaded my eyes from the inner glare, And gazed on the west, gray sky. It was dark and lowering ; on the sea The waves were booming loud, And the snow and the piercing winter sleet Wove over all a shroud. " God pity the men on the sea to-night !" I said to my little ones, And we shuddered as we heard afar The sound of minute-guns. My good man came in, in his fishing coat (He was wet and cold that night), And he said, " There'll lots of ships go down On the headland rocks to-night." " Let the lamp burn all night, mother," Cried little Mary then ; "'Tis but a little light, but still It might save drowning men." Oh ! nonsense !" cried her father (he Was tired and cross that night), " Th« headland lighthouse is enough." And he put out the light. That night, on the rocks below us, A noble ship went down, But one was saved from the ghastly wreck. The rest were left to drown. 88 YOUNG folks' RECrTATTOXS. "We steered by a little light,'' he said, " Till we saw it sink from view ; If they'd only ^a left that light all night My mates might have been here, tool" Then little Mary sobbed aloud ; Her father blushed for shame ; " 'Twas our light that you saw," he said, " And I'm the ane to blame." Twas a little light — ^how small a thing ! And trifling was its cost. Yet for want of it a ship went down. And a hundred souls were lost. THE BIRD AND THE BABY. WHAT does little birdie say In her nest Sitjpeep of day ? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer. Till the little wings are stronger. So it rests a little longer. Then it flies away. What does little baby say In her bed at peep of day ? Baby says, like little birdie. Let me rise and fly away. Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby too shall fly away. Alfred Tennyson. NUMBER ONE. 89 THR EETURN FROM BATTLE. 10! they come, they come! garlands for every shrine! Strike lyres to greet them homo ! bring roses, pour ye wine ! Swell, swell the Dorian lute through the blue, triumph- ant sky ! Let the cittern's tone salute the sons of victory. With the offering of bright blood they have ransomed hearth and tomb, Vineyard, and field, and flood. lo! they come, they come ! Sing it where olives wave, and by the glittering sea. And o'er each hero's grave, sing, sing, the land is free! Mark ye the flashing oars, and the spears that light the deep ! How the festal sunshine pours where the lords of battle sweep ! Each hath brought back his shield ; maid, greet thy lover home ! Mother, from that proud field, lo ! thy son is come ! Who murmured of the dead? Hush, boding voice! We know That many a shining head lies in its glory low. Breathe not those names to-day ! They shall have their praise ere long. With a power all hearts to sway, in ever-burning song. But now shed flowers, pour wine, to hail the conquerors home; Bring wreaths for every shrine. lo ! they come, they come! THE AMERICAN FLAG. THE flag of the Union — what precious associations cluster around it ! Not only have our fathers set up this banner in the name of God over the well-won battle- fields of the Revolution, and over the cities and towns which they rescued from despotic rule ; but think where their descendants have carried it and raised it in con- quest or protection ! , Tiirough what clouds of dust and smoke has it passed — what storms of shot and shell — what scenes of fire and blood! Not only at Saratoga, at Monmouth, and at Yorktown, but at Lundy's Lane and New Orleans, at Buena Vista and Chapultepec. It is the same glorious old flag which, inscribed with the dying words of Lawrence, '* Don't give up the ship," w^as hoisted on Lake Erie by Commodore Perry, just on the eve of his great naval victory, — the same old flag which our great chieftain bore in triumph to the proud city of the Aztecs, and planted upon the heights of her national palaces. Brave hands raised it above the eternal regions of ice in the Arctic seas, and have set it up on the summits of the lofty mountains of the distant West. Where has it not gone, the pride of its friends and the terror of its foes? What countries and seas has it not visited ? Where has not the American citizen been able to stand beneath its guardian folds and defy the world ? With what joy and exultation have seamen and tour- ists gazed upon its stars and stripes, read in it the history of their nation's glory, received from it the full sense of security, and drawn from it the inspiration of patriotism ! How many have lived for it, and how many have died NUMBER ONE. 91 for it! How many heroes have its folds covered in death ! And wherever that flag has gone it has been a herald of a better day — it has been the pledge of freedom, of justice, of order, of civilization, and of Christianity. Tyrants only have hated it. All who sigh for the tri- umph of righteousness and truth salute aud love it. A. P. Putnam. LOST TOMMY. PRAY, have you seen our Tommy? He's the cutest little fellow, With cheeks as round as apples, And hair the softest yellow. You see, 'twas quite a while ago, — An hour or two, perhaps, — When grandma sent him off to buy A pound of ginger-snaps. We have traced him to the baker's. And part way back again ; We found a little paper sack Lying empty in the lane. But Tommy aud the ginger-snaps Are missing totally ; I hope they both will reappear In time enough for tea. We have climbed up to the garret. And scoured the cellar through ; We have ransacked every closet. And the barn and orchard too ; 92 YOUNG folks' recitations. We have hunted through the kitchen, And the pantry ? Oh ! of course,— We have screamed and shouted " Tommy** Until we're fairly hoarse. Poor mamma goes distracted, And pretty Auntie May Is sure the darling cherub Has somehow lost his way. Well, well, I'll give another look Into the nursery ; I hardly think the little rogue Can hide away from me. Ah ! here's the laundry basket, Within I'll take a peep. Why — what is this curled up so tight ? 'Tis Tommy, fast asleep. O mamma, auntie, grandma ! Come and see the fun. Tommy, where's the ginger-snaps ? "Eaten! — every one!" " Bless my heart !" laughs auntie ; " Dear, dear, I shall collapse ; Where could he stow them all away ? A pound of ginger-snaps !" But mamma falls to kissing. Forgetting fright and toil. While grandma bustles out to fetch A dose of castor oil. Mrs. Julia M. T>j^a. I NUMBER ONE. 9^ THE FOOLISH HAREBELL. A HAREBELL hung its willful head : " I am tired, so tired ! I wish I was dead." She hung her head in the mossy dell : " If all were over, then all were well." The wind he heard, and was pitiful ; He waved her about to make her cool. " Wind, you are rough," said the dainty bell ; " Leave me alone — I am not well." And the wind, at the voice of the drooping dame, Sank in his heart, and ceased for shame. • " I am hot, so hot !" she sighed and said ; " I am withering up ; I wish I was dead." Then the sun, he pitied her pitiful case, And drew a thick veil over his face. " Cloud, go away, and don't be rude ; I am not — I don't see why you should." The cloud withdrew, and the harebell cried, " I am faint, so faint ! and no water beside !" And the dew came down its million-fold path ; But she murmured, " I did not want a bath." A boy came by in the morning gray ; {le plucked the harebell, and threw it away. The harebell shivered, and cried, " Oh ! oh 1 I am faint, so faint ! Come, dear wind, blow." 94 YOUNG folks' recitations. The wind blew softly, and did not speak. She thanked him kindly, but grew more weak. "Sun, dear sun, I am cold,'* she said. He rose ; but lower she drooped her head. " O rain ! I am withering ; all the blue Is fading out of me ; — come, please do." The rain came down as fast as it could, But for all its will, it did her no good. She shuddered and shriveled, and moaning said; " Thank you all kindly;" and then she was dead. Let us hope, let us hope, when she comes next year, She'll be simple and sweet. But I fear, I fear. George Macdonald. ONLY A BABY SMALL. ONLY a baby small, dropped from the skies ; Only a laughing face, two sunny eyes ; Only two cherry lips, one chubby nose ; Only two little hands, ten little toes ; Only a golden head, curly and soft ; Only a tongue that wags loudly and oft; Only a little brain, unvexed by thought ; Only a little heart, troubled by naught ; Only a tender flower, sent us to rear ; Only a life to love while we are here. Matthias Babe. NUMBER ONE. 95 BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF C^SAR. ROMANS, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause, and be silent that yoi may hear. Be- lieve me for mine honor ; and have respect to mine honor that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Csesar, this is my answer • Not that I loved Csesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Csesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Csesar were dead, to live all freemen ? As Csesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortu- nate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him ! There are tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honor for his valor ; and death for his ambition ! Shakespeare. 96 YOITNG folks' RECITATIONS. MISCELLANEOUS. THREE LITTLE MUSHROOMS. [A performance for three very little girls. They should be dressed in white, cream color, or pale pink — each carrying an open parasol directly over the head, to imitate a mushroom top. The parasols should be cov- ered with the same material as that of which the dresses are made.] FIRST GIRL. THREE little toad-stools, Don't you see? ties' as tunnin* as We can be. SECOND GIRL. Where did we come from ? We don't know, Guess in the same place Violets grow. THIRD GIRL. What are we dood for ? Jes' to keep Kain from the mosses When they sleep. FIRST GIRL. What else dood for ? Lem' me see ! Fool boys, sometimes, 'Tween you an' me. SECOND GIRL. How old are we ? Don't know, quite — Reckon we came in A shower last night. THIRD GIRL. Where are we goin' to. Oh! now, say! Wif all de flowers In mamma's bouquet. MilBEK U.NE. 97 EEAL ELOCUTION. [This can bo made a most laugh j,ble afFair. Five boys ranging from fourteen to sixteen >eurs L.f agvi &hould bo belected— such as can act well and who can make the by-play full of amusing incidents. There must be an air of reality imparted to the whole, or the performers will fail in producing the best effect. The tallest boy may represent the Professor, and he sh'^ ild speak in a full, deep tone, and bear himself in a very pompous Ljdnner.] Professor {entering and followed by four or five boys\ — Now, young gentlemen, we have met to learn the won- derful art of elocution. This word is derived from two Latin words, e, out of, and loquor, loqui, locutus, to speak, so the word means to speak out. Half the world speak down their throats — that is not elocution. I differ from every other teacher in this. I do everything called for in the piece. If a cough is mentioned, why, I stop and cough ; if a horse is spoken of, then I whinny like a horse. This I call real elocution. You must observe two directions which I shall give you : First, let your voices well out; next, you must observe and copy me and my gestures. Can you remember these? No. 1. — Yes, sir ; I think we can remember them ; but how much shall we let our voices out. I am always afraid I shall bust something if I let my voice out too much. P. — Well, sir, let me hear you speak, and then I can judge. Do you know, " On Linden when the sun was low''? No, 1. — Yes; I know that. P. — Well, you may speak it. No, 1 (^puts himself in a position, and in a very loud and high voice recites:) " On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly." ;^'-.>-^^:^^;^ps^^ 98 YOUNG folks' RLCITATI0N8. P. {clapping his hands to his ears). — Hold! enough, enough. Do you all speak as loud as that? No. 4. — Just like that, sir. P. — Well, then, I'll withdraw the rule requiring you to speak so loud as you can, and beg you instead to speak moderately — moderately, gentlemen. But you must be sure to move and act as you see me do. Our first selec- tion will be from Shakespeare. I told you all to provide yourselves with mantles, since the ancient Romans, whom we are to personate, wore them. Under the pres- ent circumstances, I stated that your sisters' waterproof cloaks would answer every ^purpose. No. 2. — I haven't any sister, Professor, so I got his sis- ter (pointing) to lend me her waterproof. Will that do just as well? P. — Certainly. Now throw them over your left arms. {In drawing them No, 3 accidentally hits No. 4, who, rubbing his arrriy says:) No. 4. — What are you about, hitting around in that way ? You Ve got to be more careful. {No. 1 also accidentally steps on the toes of No. 2, who limps around and makes great ado.) No. 2. — Oh ! oh ! my corns. What did you step on my corns for? P. — Gentlemen, you must be more careful. Nos. 2 and 4. — Why, we were just as careful as we could be. It's those fellow^s who aint careful. P. — Now, then, gentlemen, in line, if you please, and follow my directions. But first, I'll recite, as appro- priate to the occasion, Shakespeare's "Advice to the Players:" " Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to you ; tripping on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as NUMBER ONE. 99 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." I repeat, gentle- men, be sure to imitate me : it is thus you will learn. Attention all : " If you have tears " (throwing out right hand toward them). Class, — " If you have tears" — (ako throwing out their right hands with great animation), P. — " Prepare to shed them now," (puts hands to eyes and whines and cries), C. — " Prepare to shed them now" (also put hands, etc. In doing this, No. 1 hits No. 2 with his sword, and he calls out : iVo. 2. — Oh ! why are you always hitting me ? I'm half inclined to think you did it on purpose. I aint going to stand it any longer, unless I have the chance to do some hitting back. P. — Silence, gentlemen. You must be willing to suffer something in the cause of education. " You all do know this mantle" — (throwing out left ami and pointing with the right), C, — " You all do know this mantle " — (same gestures; the various members dodging about as the swords are drawn), P, — " I remember the first time ever Csesar put it on." C. — " I remember the first time ever Csesar put it on." P. — " Look" — [throwing out right hand), C. — ** Look " — (repeat 'gesture), P. — '*In this place" — (pointing). C. — **In this place" — (pointing), P. — " Ran Cassius' dagger through." C. — ** Ran Cassius' dagger through." P. — "See what a rent the envious Casca made — here" — ij>ointing). .^-^:-^--:^^ 100 YOUNG folks' recitations. C — " See what a rent the envious Casca made — here" — (pointing), P.— "Thro' this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed"— {pointing). C.—" Thro' this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed"— (^pointing). P. — "And as he plucked his cursed steel away" — ' (drawing sivord back). C. — "And as he plucked his cursed steel away " — (draw- ing swords back, and in so doing No. 1 hits No. 2, which causes him to double up and cry out in a whining way). No. 2. — There you go again, always hitting some one, you are. And I'm not going to stand your nonsense any longer. P. — Silence there. C. — Silence there. (No. 2 calls out with the rest, though pretending to be in pain.) P. (raising sword). — Silence, I say ! C. (raising sword), — Silence, I say ! P. — Stop ! stop ! That is not found in the divine bard. Make ready, all. All ready ? a— Ready. P. — " Then burst his mighty heart " — (lejthand on heart, right arm over the eyes, pretending to weep). C. — "Then burst his mighty heart" — (imitating ges- tures). P, — " And in his mantle muffling up his face" — (folds cloak around his head). C. — ''And in his mantle muffling up his face " — (fold cloaks, etc.) P. — "Great Csesar " — (in a loud voice). 0. — "Great Csesar" — (very loud). P. — " Fell " — (going suddenly on his knees). NUMBER OXE. 101 (7. — " Fell " — {going down suddenly on their knees, and remain in this position about a minute). P. (rising). — Now, gentlemen, you have had your first lesson in real elocution, where everything is done that is spoken about in the piece itself. This one was intended to show you how an audience can be made to weep. The next will be to show you how it can be made to laugh. {All bow.) KNOWING THE CIRCUMSTANCES. Characters.— Five girls, from ten to twelve years of age: Maud, an orphan, and very poorly clad; Katie, Rosella, Edith, and Belle, daughters of wealthy parents. Scene. — The five girls standing near each other, Maud a little apart from the rest RoseUa. — O girls, my father has bought a beautiful sail-boat, and we expect to have a sail to-night upon the lake. Father gave me leave to invite a few of my friends to enjoy the sail with us. Will you go ? Katie, Edith, and Belle, together. — Oh ! yes, yes, yes ! Won't it be grand ? Katie. — Rosella, you are the best girl that ever was. [ Throws an arm around her.'] Rosella. — Will you not go with us, Maud? Maud {glancing at her shabby dress and worn-out shoes). — I would like to go, but fear I cannot. [ Turns to leave.] Rosella. — Come if you can, Maud. [^Exit Maud. Edith. — I cannot imagine why you are so anxious to have that ragged Maud Lindsey to be one of your sailing party. 102 YOUNG folks' recitations. Belle,— Sot I. Katie. — Nor I. Edith. — I don't believe she has anything fit to wear. Did you not see her glance at her dress when she replied to your question? Rosella. — No ; I did not notice it. Katie. — How strange ! I noticed it ; didn't you, Belle ? Belle. — Yes, and I could not help pitying her, for I know she wanted to go so much. Edith. — I can't believe it our duty to invite such a ragged thing everywhere. I think it bad enough to be obliged to associate with her at school. Bosella. — O Edith ! you surely cannot blame Maud for having no better clothing! Edith. — I had no thought of blaming her; I only said I did not care to associate with her. Katie. — I wonder if she has no better clothes. Belle. — She had a better dress last summer. Katie. — But we are talking about this summer. [Maud appears on the stage and seems to be searching for something y but, not finding it, soon leaves.^ Edith. — I wonder what she was looking after. Belle. — She looked as if she had cried her eyes most out. Katie. — That's nothing new ; her eyes always look so. Bosella. — I think we should all weep as much as Maud, if in her place. Mrs. Mason knows all about Maud and her parents, and says, if she was able, she would take her and do by her as by a child of her own. Edith. — Did Mrs. Mason ever tell you about her ? Bosella. — ^Yes, she told me the other day. Belle. — Tell us about her, Bosella. Katie. — Yes, do. NUMBER ONE. 103 Bosella. — I will, with pleasure. Maud's parents were very wealthy. They had two children besides Maud, a boy and a girl. One day her father came in looking very grave; he had failed. A few mornings after this, he awoke very ill. A physician was called, and his dis- ease pronounced diphtheria. In a short time they were all ill with the same disease, and only Maud recovered. lA silence of some minutes,'] Katie. — I have a dress at home which I think would fit Maud, and it is quite pretty. Edith, — I have some boots. They don't come up quite as high around the ankle as I like to have them ; but they are most new, and will look much better than her old ones. BMe, — I w ill ask my mother to buy her a new hat ; and I know she will, and some other things also. Bosella. — I will also give her some articles of clothing, but what she needs most is our love. Shall we not' give it to her. All. — Yes, yes, she shall have our love. [^Ourtain falls. A SONG OF THE STATES. Tune— My Native Land. FOR FOURTEEN LITTLE GIRLS. Each ^rl should be appareled in white, and one— the largest— so cos- tumed as to represent the Goddess of Libertj'. Each of the others should wear upon the head a band of pasteboard, bearing in gilt or silver letters the name of the State she represents, and carrying in the hand a small shield, which can also be made of pasteboard. Alternate stripes of white and red can be pasted lengthwise upon the shield within one-third of the distance from the top. On the one-third space, which must, of course, be blue, should be placed thirteen small white stars. On the reverse side maybe fastened a strip of tape to enable the child to hold the shield during the performance. 104 YOUNG folks' recitations. Arrangement op Tableau.— The Goddess may be placed on one side of the group, and arranged in such way as to look with pride on the original thirteen, and the smallest child, which should represent Rhoda Island, might be kneeling at her feet, and holding in her hand a flag. The performance can either be rendered as solo or as chorus, as md| be best suited to the occasion. DID you ever hear of Columbus, Who came out to the West — Of all the mariners on earth The bravest and the best? He mann'd his boats, and picked his crew. With spirits bold and brave, * Who, like himself, knew naught of fear, And crossed the ocean wave. We thirteen sisters were the first To form into a band. And represent the thirteen States First chartered in this land. God bless the dauntless few who crosied The broad and rolling sea, To give to us a happy home So wide, and rich, and free. IN addition to our own publications herein mentioned, we make a specialty of supplying works relating to Elocution and Oratory, either in quantity oi single copies. Orders for books upon any subject will receive our prompt attention and be filled upon most favorable terms. For some time past we have felt the necessity of effecting an arrangement whereby we could supply the constant and increasing demand for Special ^ gelectioiis. It gives us great pleasure to announce that we now have facilities for filling this long-felt want. Selections a/e frequently read in public which please the audience and lead them to desire a copy, but not being personally acquainted with the reader, and knowing neither the author nor the publisher, they are at a loss to know how to proceed to obtain it. In most cases if the title be given us, or a short description of the selection, we can send the name and cost of the book in which the selec* tion is found; and upon receipt of price, we will for- ward a copy of the work. In a majority of cases however the selection is found in some of the paper-bound books of selections which sell at 30 cents. It will, therefore, save time and trouble to send the money with the inquiry. I'he pfational School of Elocution aiid Oratory, 1124 ARCH STREET. PU3UCAriON DEPARTMENT, Chas. 0. Shoemaker, Manaqer. PHILADELPHIA. Sy SSV. SEE? WARD BSECSEE. 5*^ 'T^ r^ Neatly Bound, Cloth, 40 Cents. ^HE attention of all persons interested in the Art (?)) of Expression is invited to our new issue of Henry Ward Beecher's unique and masterly ex- position of the fundamental principles of true oratory. *' Training in this department/' said Beecher, '* is the great want of our day ; for we are living in a land whose genius, whose history, whose institutions, whose people, eminently demand oratory." It must be conceded that few men ever enjoyed a wider experience or achieved a higher reputation in the realm of public oratory than Mr. Beecher. What he had to say on this subject was born of experience, and his own inimitable style was at once both statement and illustrative of his theme. From The School Journal, New York City : — ^' Richly freighted with the golden fruit of observation, ex- perience, sympathy, understanding, knowledge, and reason. '* Sold by all Booksellers, or mailed upon receipt of price. The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 1124 ARCH STREE.T, MJBI.ICATION DEPARTMENT, Chas. O. Shoemaker. Manaqer. PHILADELPHIA. GIOIGE ® IHMOS. por I^eading and l^ecitatioii. pDAPTED POI^ USB IN BUBLIG AND Bl^IYAn:tB. The Latest and best Book of Humor Published. 200 Pages. Appropriately Engraved Cover. Paper BiiKlitiSy 30 Cents ; Boards, 50 Cents. TT S its name implies, the selections are chosen with 1^ the greatest care, avoiding the coarse and vulgar ^ on the one hand, and the flat and insipid on the other. The Publishers possess unequaled facilities for secur* ing the best readiri^s of every character, and the present volume may be considered without a rival. The pieces are new, but few of them having previ%. ously appeared in any similar publication, and the range of subjects is unusually wide. The repertoires of many of the best amateui and professional readers have been examined, and the choicest bits of humor have been carefully culled and bound up in this rich, golden sheaf, and are here offered to the public for the first time in book form. The book contains eighty-five pieces, is clearly printed on good, strong paper, and is bound in a handsome and appropriately engraved cover. Sold everywhere, or mailed upon receipt of price. i ^he JJational School of Elocution and Qpatopy, 1124 ARCH STREET. rWBLICATlON DEPARTMENT, Ohas. O. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA, Q^hild'l @UDn ^peal^GR FOR CHILDREN OF FIVE YEARS. 100 Pieces, Attractively Bound. Paper Binding, 15 cts.; Boards, 26 cts. ^^HIS little book is a collection of Recitations, Mo- ^^ tion Songs, Concert Pieces, Dialogues, and Tab- leaux, for the very little children of five years old and thereabouts. In all, it contains loo pieces, many of whicli are entirely new as well as tiovel in arrange- ment, and have been specially written for this book. While keeping in mind the tender age of the little ones for whom this collection is intended, we have ex- cluded from it mere baby-talk, and have inserted only such pieces as contain some thought worth memorizing. The contents will be found to be varied, fresh, child- like, and entertaining, and of such a nature as to be adapted to almost every occasion. " Its selections are admirably adapted to amuse and instruct those for whose use it is intended." — Interior^ Chicago, Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed upon receipt of price. The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 1124 ARCH STREET, Publication Department, Chas. C, Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA. ^S^:f^.■^^,^.r'^>mf'^■ Volumes i, 2, 3, 4, and 5 issued. Designed for use in Sclpiools and Colleges and fo* Public and Social Entertainment. 600 PAGES, CLOTH BOUND, EACH, $1.50. "* Special. — For a limited time we are offering the full set of five volumes, put up in neat and durable boxes, at the special price ef jS^S-OO; the regular price would be ^^7.50. EACH volume is composed o£ three numbers of TAe Elocuiionisf s Annual in 'the order of their issue, thus comprising the latest and best pro- ductions of the most popular English and American writers of to-day, together with the choicest se- lections of standard literature adapted to reading in public and private ; and is so arranged with indexes and classifications of selections, authors, etc., as to make it not only one of the most valuable collections ol choice readings ever published, but one of the most complete as a book of ready reference. H J. Greenwell, A M., Principal Bardstown Male and Female Institute, Bardstown, Ky., says ■ ''A work eminently suited to school-room purposes as •rell as for all departments of elocutionary drill." White gunlight of potent WoMf. An oration by Rev. John S. Macintosh, D. D. De- livered before the National School of Elocution and Oratory, June 15th, 1881. Cloth, 25 cents. The above books for sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent upon receipt of price by the Publishers, ^he j^ational School of Elocution and OpatoFi], 1124 ARCH STREET, PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT, Chas. C. Shoemaker. Manager. PHI LA DEL-PHI A. C hoice ^ Ij ialogue g FOR School and Soi^ial Entertainmeni t2mo. Handsomely Engraved Cover. Paper Binding, 30 Cents. Boards, 50 Cents. THIS volume has been prepared in response to naany urgent and repeated requests. The topics hetve been arranged on a comprehensive plan, with reference to securing the greatest possible variety, and the matter has been prepared especially for us by ^ corps of able writers. Each production has been critically examined as to its moral tone, its literary structure and expression, and fts adaptation ^o the pur- pose intended. In the preparation of these Dialogues, provision has been made for all seasons and occasions — Private Entertainments, Sunday and Day School Ex- hibitions, Holidays, Anniversaries, National and Patriotic Celebrations, Temperance Meet- ings, etc., etc. , "We have read much of this book, and know ot nothing else so well suited to school and social pur poses." — Christian Statesman, Milwaukee, Wis. Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers or mailed upon receij ' of price. , I'lie plat ion a! School o? Elocution ard Orstcry, 1124 ARCH STREET. •UBUCATION DE«»»«TMFNT DTJ t T A f^XTI 13 M T A Chas. O. Shoemakeh. MANAoeR PHli-ADEl-HrtlA. El@(iyfei©BiF'Y GhiFtiS. OUXI^IPiB OK EI^OCUXIOX. A large wall charts 00x72 inches, iKindso'inely inoun ted. TIE arrangement of this chart is striking and sug- gestive, and presents a clear and practical analysis of the whole subject. Beginning with the defini-^ tion of elocution, it proceeds to treat of its im- portance, of conversation as its basis, of principles, and of methods of instruction. The outline of these topics, with their natural subdivisions, will enable the teacher to proceed systematically with the work of in- struction, and will, at the same time, assist the student to an intelligent comprehension of the subject. XABI.H OF VOCAI. EXERCISKS. A. small ivall charts 32x44 inches^ handsomely fnounfed. Tne distinctive aims of this chart are to secure purity, power, flexibility, a:id character of tone. Beginning with Lhe long vowel sounds, natural or conversational, it proceeds to the systematic cultivation of the voice, in response to the whole field of sentiment and passion. Then by a carefully arranged set of sentences these principles are immediately applied to expression, thus securing to the student such facility in their use as will enable him to apply them in conversation, in reading, or in public address. jyr>j^^j^^ , j Ofitline of Elocnfion $5,00 j-nii^i^^. <^ Ta6^c> of Vocal Exercises. . . $2.00 Sold by all Booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt of price. The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 1124 AROH STREET, Publication Department, Chas. C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA. llittle People'! FOR CHILDREN OF TEN YEARS. 100 PAGES, HANDSOMELY ENGRAVED COVER. Paper Binding, 15 cts.; Boards, 25 cts. /^DAPTED to children of ten years of age, and J^ suited to every occasion in which the little folks are called upon to take part. Bright and witty child-thoughts, often tersely and beautifully expressed, and ranging in length from four to twenty lines, will please the wee ones. Motion Songs, Concert Recitations, Holiday Pieces, Ringing Temperance Speeches, and Soul-stirring Patriotic Ora- tions will delight the older boys and girls. A number of these pieces have been written specially for this. book, and all are fresh and new. ** This book is adapted to all kinds of juvenile entertainments, and will supply a widely increasing demand for selections for the little ones.'* — Herald, Syracuse y N. Y. Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed upon receipt of price. The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 1124 ARCH STREET, HiBLlCATlON O^PAR-'MFNT Chas C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIAr LIBRARY OF CONGRESS { 022 204 620 8 TF you wish to become a gooc Speaker, you can receive insjtruct the direction of James E. Murdocli the eminent Shakespearean Scholar, -cturer, and Reader, who is Presidefit of ilSlocufior) and MFcrfo Idest School of Expression in this /, an institution which has enrolled upw? twenty-two hundred pupils. A catalor containing full description of the course structiop will be mailed upon applica e Secretary, Cecil Harper, 1124 Arch liladelphia, Pa.