635 33 y 1 PRICE 15 CENTS Miss Deborah's Pocketbook isr. SHOEMAKER'S BEST SELECTIONS For Readings and Recitations Nos. I to 27 Now Issued Paper Binding* each number, • • • 3° cents Cloth " M - 50 cento Teachers, Readers, Students, and all persons who have had occasion to use books of this kind, concede this to be the best series of speakers published. The different numbers are compiled by leading elocution- ists of the country, who have exceptional facilities for securing selections, and whose judgment as to their merits is invaluable. No trouble or expense ip spared to obtain the very best readings and recitations, and much material is used by special arrangement with other publishers, thus securing the best selections from such American authors as Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, Lowell, Emerson, Alice and Phoebe Cary $ Mrs. Stowe, and many others. The foremost Eng- lish authors are also represented, as well as the leading French and German writers. This series was formerly called "The Elocution- ist's Annual," the first seventeen numbers being pub* lished under that title. While the primary purpose of these books is to supply the wants of the public reader and elocution- ist, nowhere else can be found such an attractive col- lection of interesting short stories for home reading. Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, or mailed &pon receipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 226 S. 11th Street, Philadelphia Miss Deborah's Pocketbook A Play in One Act BY Alice C. Thompson Author of "The Good Old Days," "A Suffragette Baby," "Molly's Way," etc. PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1914 £> Copyright 1914 by The Penn Publishing Company FEB -4 1914 ®C!.D 35906 Miss Deborah's Pocketbook CHARACTERS Miss Deborah Hollis, the Elder. Mrs. Horner. Miss Phcebe Grey. Annie. Deborah Hollis, the Younger. Phcebe Hollis. Time. — Thirty minutes. STORY OF THE PLAY How a dimity gown and destiny decidedly changed the views of a wealthy and proud maiden lady, living in a small town, is set forth in this simple, but effective, little play. Miss Deborah Hollis is visited by two ladies seeking sub- scriptions on a day on which she has lost a large sum of money, and is also greatly annoyed by the fact that a poor family has just moved in next door. She gives generously to buy a present for the prominent president of her club, but meagerly to the Home Missionary Society. In the midst of her denouncement of the poor, a young girl, one of the new neighbors, appears with the lost money. She proves to be the daughter of Miss Hollis' long-lost brother, and Miss Deborah changes her mind about beggars, and finds a namesake. COSTUMES, ETC. Miss Hollis. About fifty-five. A woman of fine fea- tures and an aristocratic bearing. She is well, but plainly, dressed. Mrs. Horner. A prosperous, well dressed matron of about fifty. Calling costume. Miss Phcebe Grey. A gentle little maiden lady in an old-fashioned and rather shabby dress and hat. About sixty. Annie. A pleasant-faced girl of twenty. She wears a neat gingham dress, cap, and white apron. Deborah, the Younger. A tall pale girl of about eighteen, who would be pretty if she had a chance. She wears a faded but clean black and white gingham dress, and no hat. She carries a black shopping bag in her hand at entrance. Phcebe Hollis. A bright, pretty girl of sixteen. She wears a faded mauve dimity dress and no hat. Any other dress may be worn, by making slight changes in the text, where the dress is mentioned. PROPERTIES Sofa cushions ; a black leather hand-bag containing pocketbook with roll of bills ; hand-bag containing small note-book and pencil. Miss Deborah's Pocketbook SCENE. — Parlor in Miss Deborah's house, furnished in eo7?iforiable and old-fashioned style. A large sofa, l. c. Armchair, R. C. Table and two small chairs, c. En- trances C. and down L. and R. Door c. opens into front hall. The fro?it door may or may not be shown beyond door c. {The curtain rises to discover Annie searching the room. She turns up the sofa cushions, goes down on her ha?ids and knees, looking under sofa and chairs.} Annie {speaking off l.). No, ma'am, I can't find it; it's not here. I've looked everywhere. {Rises.) Yes'm, 1 did look all over the grounds, right down to the gate. {Bell at c. Annie goes up and admits, c, Miss Phcebe Grey.) Phcebe G. Good-afternoon, Annie. Is Miss Hollis at home ? Annie {hesitating). Yes, Miss Grey, she is, but — I don't know if she'd see visitors jest now. Phcebe G. {smiling). Oh, but I'm not a visitor. And I'll stay only a minute. {Comes down c.) Is she so busy ?■ Annie. No'm, but she's lost her hand-bag with a lot of money in it. Phcebe G. Now, that is unfortunate. Annie. Miss Hollis went to town this morning and called at the bank, and she says she remembers she had it in her hand as far as the front door. But we've looked everywhere. Phcebe G. Perhaps I'd better be going {A ring c.) Annie. Oh, I hope they've found it. {Opens door.) {Enter Mrs. Horner, c.) 5 6 MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK Mrs. H. Is Miss Hollis at home, Annie ? Annie. Yes, Mrs. Horner, but Mrs. H. Tell her I am here. {Comes down c.) How do you do, Phoebe ? Phcebe G. How are you, Blanche ? Miss Deborah Hollis {off l.). Annie, Annie I Annie. Yes' in, I'm coming. {Exit, l.) Mrs. H. I didn't know you were coming over this after- noon, Phoebe. {They sit r. c.) Phcebe G. I'm — I'm collecting, you know. For the Home Missionary Band. Mrs. H. Oh, that's the society you gave that pretty new dimity dress to last summer. Phcebe G. Yes, it's a year ago. Mrs. H. You might better have kept it. It was a foolish sacrifice on your part. Phcebe G. I never regretted it, and I hope it gave pleas- ure to some one. But I'm afraid I was a little egotistical. I wrote on a piece of paper, " From a lady in Greenbridge," and slipped it into the dress. Mrs. H. Much they care who the things come from — those people ! Well, I've come to see Deborah on important business. Phcebe G. I expect it'll have to wait. Annie says Deb- orah has lost her hand-bag with her pocketbook in it. Mrs. H. Lost her hand-bag ! Well, how unlucky for me. The idea of its happening to-day, of all days ! Still, she could give me a check. Where did she lose it? Phcebe G. Somewhere in or near the house, she thinks. Mrs. H. H'm — do they leave the front door open? Phcebe G. I don't know. Why ? Mrs. H. Those shabby- looking people who have just moved into the Green cottage — they're so poor and down at heels. Strangers, too. And right at Deborah's front gate. It would be very easy for one of them to slip in. Phcebe G. But just because people are poor we should not conclude that they are dishonest, should we ? Mrs. H. Well, they look it. MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK 7 Phcebe G. I passed the eldest girl this morning. Some- how she made me think of Dick Hollis. Or perhaps I was thinking of him, anyway. Mrs. H. Deborah's brother? Phcebe G. Yes, the one who left home twenty years ago. He has never been back, and they have never heard from him since. Mr. Hollis was hard on him. Mrs. H. Deborah always takes her father's part, and the boy drank. Phcebe G. Yes, poor Dick. He was too popular for his own good, and had too much spending money. And then they cast him off without a penny. Mrs. H. Here's Deborah. (Enter Deborah Hollis, the elder y l.) Deborah. Good-afternoon, Blanche and Phcebe. How are you ? Phcebe G. I hope you are well, Deborah. Deborah. I'm well, thanks. But I'm considerably up- set in my mind. I've lost my hand-bag with a hundred dollars in it. Phcebe G. A hundred dollars ! Deborah. Yes ; I drew it out of the bank this morning, thinking to go to the city to-morrow and do some shopping. We've searched the house all over and can't find it. There's no one here but myself and Annie, and she's— well, as honest as I am. (Sits.) Mrs. H. Did any one get into the house ? Deborah. I don't think so. There have been no stran- gers around, except those people in the old Green cottage. The idea of any one letting an old tumble-down place like that ! And to a shiftless, poverty-stricken family ! Why, to see their washing hanging out it's just Phcebe G. Yes, it's just pitiful. Deborah. And they have a horrid, vicious dog, too. He followed Annie into our yard yesterday and almost attacked her. Mrs. H. Yes, I noticed it as I came past. They'll bear watching, I guess. How many are there in the family? Phcebe G. Only three, I think ; a mother and two daughters. We shouldn't judge everybody by the size of his pocketbook. You know folks do come down in the 8 miss Deborah's pocketbook world. Sickness and poverty could bring them to just such a pass. Deborah. Nonsense, Phcebe. Blood will tell. Decent folk couldn't live like that. They're just driftwood, that's all; just human driftwood. Phcebe G. Suppose they are ? Then we've got to do something for them. Every one can't be prosperous and successful. Hardly one of us but has had some close and dear relative who's made a failure of his life. Deborah. I know you mean Dick. But I washed my hands of him twenty years ago, when he went away defying my father. But you always took his part, Phcebe. Phcebe G. We — we were always good friends. Deborah. Don't mention his name to me any more. He's — he's nothing to me now. He may be dead, for all I know — or care. Phcebe G. Oh, Deborah ! Deborah. As for those people in the Green house, they can't stay on there, in that tumble -down place. It's an eye- sore. Mrs. H. Deborah's right. We ought to send them back where they belong. There ought to be some law to stop poor, shiftless folk coming from one state to another and being a burden on the community. Phcebe G. But have they asked any one for anything? Mrs. H. Not yet, but the town will be supporting them before long, you'll see. (A noise and loud voices off L.) Deborah {rising). What's that? {Enter Annie, l.) Annie. Oh, Miss Hollis, that horrid black dog is in the yard again. I'm scared to go out. And he's ram- pagin* all over the flower beds. Deborah. I'll settle him. (Exeunt Annie and Deborah, c. Mrs. H. goes up a) Mrs. H. There he is ! I wouldn't dare go gut, (Phcebe G. goes up c.) Phcebe G. Here's Deborah with a broom, MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK. 9 Mrs. H. And Annie with a rake. I should think they'd want to shoot him. Look at the sweet peas ! Phcebe G. And the geraniums. It is a shame ! Mrs. H. My word ! Deborah came down hard on his back. Just hear him ! He's gone out, across to his own dirty yard. {They come down c.) Phcebe G. Poor Deborah is having her troubles. Mrs. H. Yes, we've happened in on a bad day. And whatever made you go and talk about Dick Hollis? Phcebe G. I didn't mention him first. But I'm not afraid to say what I think, Blanche. Mrs. H. We'll have to smooth her down now. {Reenter Deborah and Annie, c. Exit Annie, l.) Deborah (in a temper). This is the last straw. I'll have them arrested. All my geraniums and sweet peas broken down by that dog. I'll certainly get the police after them. Mrs. H. It's a perfect shame. Don't be imposed upon, Deborah. You are too good-natured. I wish I could help you. But I really must be going. I called to see you about the Saturday Reading Club. We are going to present our retiring president, Mrs. Hawtrey, with a silver-mounted traveling bag. And I knew you'd want to give something. She thinks so much of you. Deborah. Of course I will. But isn't that rather an ex- pensive gift ? Mrs. H. Oh, we couldn't give less. She's going to Europe, you know. Deborah. You can put me down for five dollars. Mrs. H. Oh, thanks. By check? Deborah. No, you'll have to wait until I find my money, Blanche. (Mrs. H. takes a small ?iote-book and pencil from her hand- bag.') Mrs. H. Mrs. Simpson gave eight dollars. Deborah. She did, eh ? Mrs. Simpson Humph, I guess that'll run her close with the housekeeping for a week or so. You can make my subscription eight, too. 10 MISS DEBORAH S POCKETBOOK. Mrs. H. Oh, thank you, dear. (Writes in book.') We'll be able to get a lovely bag. Phcebe G. I was going to ask you for a small sum for the Home Missionary Society, Deborah. Mrs. H. Did you know that Mrs. Hawtrey is a cousin to the governor? Deborah. Is that so? I didn't know it. Phcebe G. (meekly). She's just a third cousin. Mrs. H. (going up c. ). Good-bye, Deborah. I'll come back for the money. I hope you find it soon. Just keep your eye on those people across the way. Deborah. Oh, Blanche (Mrs. H. turns), perhaps you had better put down ten dollars to my name. Mrs. H. Deborah, you are the most generous woman in Green bridge. I'll put it down before I forget it. (Takes book out of bag and writes in it.) Ah, what a lot of good you do, Deborah ! Good-bye. Deborah. Good-bye, Blanche. (Exit Mrs. H., c.) Phcebe G. Our little Home Missionary Society, you know, Deborah, looks after Indians and poor white settlers in the west. Deborah [impatiently). Oh, more driftwood. Phcebe G. Call them driftwood if you like. Even drift- wood has its uses, and for all we know the destiny of these poor people may be as important as yours and mine. Deborah. Destiny is a big word to apply to them. Phcebe G. Last year we sent out sixteen barrels of clothing. And one hundred dollars besides. Deborah. Yes, I know. You gave them a good dimity dress that you'd worn only twice. You might better have kept it for this summer. Phcebe G. I felt I must do something — I have so little money. And I'm glad I sent the dress, if it has given any one a little happiness. Deborah. I can't pretend to have much sympathy with poor shiftless folk. I'll give you a dollar, though. Phcebe G. (disappointed). Thank you, Deborah. (Rises.) I do hope you'll find your hand-bag and your pocketbook. (Enter Annie, l.) MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK II Annie. Miss Hollis, there's a young girl would like to speak to you. Deborah. Who is it? I'm not in the humor to see any one. What's her name? Annie. She didn't give her name, but I think she be- longs to that family over the way. Deborah. Humph — probably begging. Well, show her in. Don't go, Phoebe, for a minute. {Exit Annie, l.) I'll tell her if they don't get their front yard cleaned, and chain up that dog I'll Phcebe G. You won't be too hard on her, Deborah. It's not her fault. Deborah. Hush, here she is. (Phoebe G. sits on sofa. Enter c, Deborah Hollis, the younger. In her hand she carries a black hand-bag. She comes down c.) Deborah H. I found this bag just beside your gate. Does it belong to you ? Deborah {with a little cry). Oh, my bag ! Yes, yes, it is mine. 1 have been looking all over for it. (Takes it.) Oh, I'm so glad it's found. Phcebe G. Oh, Deborah, what good fortune ! Deborah. You live across the road in the cottage, don't you ? When did you find my bag? Deborah H. This morning. Deborah. This morning? It is four o'clock now. And I have been worried nearly to death. There is a hun- dred dollars in it. Deborah H. {gravely). Is there? That's a great deal of money ; more than I've ever seen in my life. Deborah. Why didn't you bring it back before? Deborah H. 1 couldn't come before. Deborah. Couldn't come? And you live only a step away ! Deborah H. But I really couldn't come. I — I (Deborah looks at Phcebe G. and nods her head meaningly.') Phcebe G. Probably there was a very good reason. Deborah {giving bag to Phcebe G.). Take out what I promised you, Phoebe, and please count the money. Deborah H. I will tell you why I couldn't come. My 12 MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK only good dress was soiled. I had to wash and iron it, for mother said I must look neat to come over here. (Phcebe G. opens bag and looks over the roll of bills inside as inconspicuously as possible?) Deborah. Is that your best dress ? Deborah H. {looking down). The best — I have. Phcebe G. There's a hundred dollars here, Deborah. You didn't drop one out. Deborah. I'll give you a reward, of course. Deborah H. Oh, no — no; I won't take anything. Deborah. But it was very honest of you to bring the bag back as you found it. Deborah H. Honest ? What else could I do ? I be- long to honest people. Deborah. What is your name? Deborah H. Deborah Hollis. Deborah (rising). What do you mean? Who are you? Where do you come from ? Tell me your name again. Deborah H. (puzzled). Deborah Hollis is my name. Phcebe G. Is it possible Deborah. Your father's name — tell me, what is it? Deborah H. My father's name was Richard Annersley Hollis. Phcebe G. (rising). Dick's daughter. Deborah. Where is he? Deborah H. He is dead. (She looks puzzled .) Deborah. Dead ! Dick dead ! (Sits.) Phcebe G. (sitting suddenly). Dead ! Deborah H. (going to her). You knew my father- ? Deborah. Don't you know who 1 am? Deborah H. No. Deborah. My name is Deborah Hollis. Deborah H. Why, why — then you're Deborah. Your father's sister. You must have known his home was in Green bridge. Deborah H. Oh, no, we did not. My father never mentioned his home. We only knew he came from this state. Deborah. Then why did you come to Greenbridge? Deborah H. It is rather a strange story. I will tell you. MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOKL 1 3 (E?iter Mrs. H., c.) Mrs. H. Phoebe — Phoebe — Deborah, what do you think ? Deborah. Yes, we know, Blanche. Mrs. H. But where did she get it ? Deborah. She found it at the gate. Mrs. H. Oh, nonsense. Why, you sent it out west a year ago, Phoebe. Phgebe G. What do you mean ? Mrs. H. Your mauve dimity dress, of course. I'd known it anywhere. Phoebe G. My mauve dimity dress ! What ever is the matter, Blanche ? You know I sent it out west a year ago. Mrs. H. (triumphantly). Then why is it on a young girl just outside? Tell me that. Phcebe G. On a young girl Deborah H. That's my sister. Her name is Phoebe. Deborah. Well, this is extraordinary. Tell her to come in, Deborah. Blanche, this is my niece, Deborah Hollis. Phcebe G. Dick's daughter. Mrs. H. What— no ! (Deborah H. goes up c.) Deborah H. (softly). Phoebe, come in. Deborah. She is like Dick ; it's marvelous. Phcebe G. His eyes, his very walk. Deborah. What did I say to you ? Blood will tell. Deborah H. (coming down a). A year ago when we were out west — it was shortly after my father died — we were very poor; all our money had gone to pay doctors' bills. We were obliged to accept help ; among other things some clothing. It was marked, " From a lady in Greenbridge." Phcebe G. What do you mean ? Deborah. Go on. Deborah H. Mother said, "There must be some kind- hearted people in Greenbridge to send such a lovely dress. When we go east we shall live there." That's all. Phoebe wears the dress yet. Mother made it over for her. Phcebe G. And am I really going to see it again? Deborah. Phoebe, my dear, please take fifty dollars for your Home Missionary Society. If any one deserves it, they do. 14 MISS DEBORAHS POCKETBOOK Deborah H. Here is my sister. {Ejiter Phcebe Hollis, c.) Phcebe G. {excitedly). There it is ! There it is ! If any one had told me it would come back to Greenbridge ! Deborah. My other niece, Blanche. (Phcebe G. runs and clasps young Phcebe H. in her arms.) Phcebe G. Welcome home again ! How well you've worn ! Oh, my dear, I'm glad it has been of use to you — the dress, I mean. Deborah H. Phcebe, this is Aunt Deborah. Phcebe H. My aunt? A real aunt? Do you mean it? (Deborah kisses her.) Phcebe G. Oh, call me aunt, too. Phcebe H. And we thought we were perfect strangers in Greenbridge. How lucky we are! And to think we just drifted here by chance. Deborah. No, not chance, dear. Your Aunt Phcebe was right — it was destiny. Phcebe G. Destiny and the dimity gown, and the pocketbook. Deborah. Yes. (To Phcebe G.) I'm going to feel differently in the future, Phcebe, about pocketbooks. Successful Plays for All Girls In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in playing, - thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that the physician is a female practitioner. Price, 15 cents. SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, and they institute a similar organization. Price, 15 cents. A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt, Miss Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position." Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. Price, 15 cents. HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another friend and so the secret travels. Price, 15 cents. THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the play is located at a summer resort. Alice Graham, in order to chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish an evening of rare enjoyment. Price 15 cents. Successful Rural Plays A Strong List From Which to Select Your Next Play FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. For five male and six female characters. Time of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New Yorker. Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting and novel. Price, 15 cents. A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 15 cents. Practical Elocution By J. W, Shoemaker, A. J¥k $00 pages* Ooth, Leather Back. $1.25 This work is the outgrowth otf actual class-room experience, and is a practical, common-sense treat ment of the whole subject. It is clear and concise, yet comprehen sive, and is absolutely free from the entangling technicalities that are so frequently found in books of this class. Conversation, which is the basis of all true Elocu tion, is regarded as embracing all the germs of speech and action. Prominent attention is therefore given to the cultivation of this the most common form of human expression. Genera! principles and practical processes are pre sented for the cultivation of strength, purity, and flexibility of Voice, for the improvement of distinct oess and correctness in Articulation, and for the development of Soul power in delivery. The work includes a systematic treatment of Ges- ture in its several departments of position, faciaii expression, and bodily movement, a brief system oi Gymnastics bearing upon vocal development and grace of movement, and also a chapter on Methods of Instruction, for teachers. Sold by all booksellers* or sent, prepaid, tqpcm *•* (§eipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 226 S. 11th Street, Philadelphia The Power of Expression Expression and efficiency go hand in hand. The power of clear and forceful expression brings confi- dence and poise at all times — in private gatherings, in public discussion, in society, in business. It is an invaluable asset to any man or woman. It can often be turned into money, but it is always a real joy. In learning to express thought, we learn to command thought itself, and thought is power. You can have this power if you will. Whoever has the power of clear expression is always sure of himself. 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