^•tc. i i 'I *l;Jwff,, i < ,{H Book_ L_ukL_ GopiglitW CjQPmiGHT DEPOSm I I'l IN MANILA BAY 'n All TME IAD2 Tm ^MILI AT ME -\js4 AMANG TKETRAm TM£R£IS A^WAi'/H DEAR IT L0YEMY5EI.' COMIN' THRO' THE RYE YOUNG PEOPLE'S Favorite Speaker BEING A CHOICE TREASURY OF NEW AND POPULAR RECITATIONS, READINGS, DIALOGUES, ORIGINAL AND ADAPTED COMEDIES, TABLEAUX, ETC., COMPRISING THE BEST SELECTIONS FROM The Most Celebrated Authors and Composers INCLUDING DESCRIPTIVE, DRAMATIC, PATHETIC, HUMOROUS RECITALS AND READINGS WITH MUSIC, FOR SCHOOLS, LODGES, PUBLIC ENTERTAINMENTS, ANNIVERSARIES, SUNDAY-SCHOOLS, ETC.,.ETC .,,,.., ,. , . COMPILED AND EDITED BY ' ' HENRY DAVENPORT NORTHROP A'5*h:>r of '■ Peerless Reciter," " Charming Bible Stories," Etc. Richly Bmaeiiished with Full=Pa^e Phoiotype En^ravingfS National Publishing Company 239 South American Street, Philadelphia, Pa. ^% n THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Recejveo DEC. 28 1901 /lOOFVmeHT ENTRY cLas^ ^KXo. No. / 5^^^ COPY a / ENTERED ACCORniMC TO ACT OF CONORESS, IN THE fEAR 1901, BY D. Z. HOWELL THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONG ORESS, AT WASHINGTOM, D. C, U. S. CONTENTS. Descriptive Recitations. PAGE The Red Jacket .....George M. Baker Yl Sister's Cake Eugene Field 18 Brace Up 19 The Face on the Floor. H. Antoine D'Arcy 20 Brave Kate Shelley Mrs. M. Z. Rayne 21 Nathan Hale Eugene Geary 22 The Haunted House Thomas Hood 23 Over the Crossin' 24 Don't Be in a Hurry 25 Don't E. C. Rook 26 The Telegram 26 Crossing the Carry W. H. H. Murray 27 Those Who Fail ....Nellie Barlow 29 Niagara 30 Katie Lee and Willie Gray'. 30 My Mother Sir Walter Scott £1 Which Loved Best S2 The Best Sewing-Machine 32 Killed George Weatherly S3 The Three Bells John G. Whittier 33 Pitcher or Jug M. P. Chick 34 Gould's Signal .Bret Harte 34 Little Christel Mrs. Mary E. Bradley 35 The Fire-Fiend .Jessie Glenn 36 Success in Life ...James A. Garfield 37 The Spanish Mother.^zV Francis Hastings Doyle 38 A Race for Life ./. L. Malloy 41 An Arabian Tale ...., 41 Last Charge of Ney ./. T. Heaiiley 42 The Song of the Headlight Hardy Jackson 43 Sir Rupert's Wife Ceorge R. Sims 44 One Touch of Nature R.J. Burdette 47 Little Mag's Victory George L. Catlin 48 Remember Boys Make Men 49 Stick to Your Bush ./. W. Watson 49 Searching for the Slain 50 The Little Hunchback.... yizw^j Whitcomb Riley 61 The Burning Prairie Alice Gary 52 Joan of Arc Thomas DeQuincy 53 Kit Carson's Ride .Joaquin Miller 64 Lottie Dougherty Dwight Williams 56 Nola Kosmo Baine 57 The Widow's Light Augusta Moore 58 tlie Raindrops' Ride 60 Moray and His Thirty 60 Defence From the Charge of Tyranny Robespierre 61 A Valedictory A. F. Shoals 62 A Junior Partner Wanted M. E. Sandford 62 Matt. F. Ward's Trial for Murder John J. Crittenden 63 Kate Maloney Dagonet 64 One Day Solitary J. T. Trowbridge 66 Words of Welcome... 67 Speech of Red Jacket 68 The Old Man's Vigil..... 68 Advice to a Young Man R.J. Burdette 69 Boys Wanted 70 Wealth and Work 70 The Farmer 71 TsarOleg .J.J. Kenealey 71 The Baron 's Last Banquet Albert G. Greene 72 The Stowaway Matthison 73 Do Your Best 75 A Boy's Opinion 76 The Soldier's Pardon James Smith 76 After Twenty Years 77 Scott and the Veteran.... Bayard Taylor 78 Mary, Queen of Scots H. G. Bell 79 The Fireman Robert T. Conrad 81 The Burning Ship 82 Battle of Bunker Hill. Fredericks. Cozzens 83 The American Flag Henry Ward Beec/ier 85 The Circus Boy A. A. Vivyan Thomson 8tf The Granger's Wife ./. W. Donovan 87 Life Is What We Make It Orville Dewey 82 A Stray Child Eliza Sproat Turner 89 The Vulture of the Alps 90 The Progress of Humanity Charles Sumner 91 Two Loves and a Life William Sawyer 92 A Judge's Temperance Lecture 93 The Miser George W. Cutter 94 True Heroism 95 The Battle of Morgarten Felicia D. Hcmans 95 A Voyage and a Haven Francis C. Hoey 97 A Brother's Tribute 99 Something Great 200 Penn's Monument R.J. Burdette 101 Daniel Periton's Ride Albion W. Tourgee 102 A New Year's Deed.-t...,. ^.Gertrude Smith 104 1 CONTENTS. The Blind Poet's Wife Edwin Colter 106 The Engine Driver's Story^ W. Wilkins 109 The Venice of the Aztecs W. H. Prescott 110 The Flight for Life William Sawyer 111 Lady Wentworth H, W. Longfellow 112 A.n Incident of the War Harry W. Kimball 114 The Idiot Lad Robert W, Overton 115 Ancient and Modern OrsLtory. Benson N. Wyman 117 Scipio Walters. Replinger 118 Rodney's Ride Elbridge S, Brooks 119 The Indians Joseph Story 120 The Diamond Wedding 121 Xerxes at the Hellespont R, C. French 122 The Last Redoubt Alfred Austin 123 The Heroism of the Pilgrims Rufus Choate 124 Little Rocket's Christmas Vandyke Brown 125 The Wreck Charles Dickens 127 Supposed Speech of Regnlus Elijah Kellogg 128 Nell Robert Buchanan 130 The Lightkeeper'b Daughter. J^r^j A. Goodwin 131 Popular Elections George M'Duffie 132 The Gladiator 133 Ginevra Sam,uel Rogers 134 The Dynamiter's Daughter.^. Stanway Jackson 135 Bernardo Del Carpio Felicia D, Hemans 138 Burning of the Lexington Milford Bard 139 Pompeii 140 What is a Gentleman 141 A Boy Hero 142 Sal Parker's Ghost Edwin Colter 142 Foundering of the Dolphin C. E. Reed 145 Mountains E. M. Morse 146 From the Wreck Adam Lindsay Gordon 147 Home 150 Simon Grub's Dream 150 The Coronation Pageant of Anne Boleyn /. A. Froude 152 The Roman Sentinel Ward M. Florence 153 The Stage-Driver's Story 154 The Miser's Will George Birdseye 157 The Queen of Prussia's Ride A. L. A. Smith 158 The Martyr of the Arena 158 The Sioux Chief's Daughter Joaquin Miller 159 Recitations With Music. [ *'Abide With Me" S. H, Thayer 161 Twickenham Ferry 162 Two Little Rogues 163 The Drowning Singer 164 Ben Bolt Thomas Dunn English 165 Shells of Ocean ./. W. Merry 166 Isle of Beauty Thomas H. Bayly 167 The Exile of Erin Thomas Campbell 168 Days of Absence Rousseau 169 VAO« The Low-Backed Car. Samuel Lover 170 Love's Young Dream Thomas Moore 171 Araby's Daughter Tho*nas Moore 172 I Wandered by the Brookside.^«:AIerry Mike 236 Saved by a Ghost Eben E. Rexford 1Z1 WidderBudd 239 Mr. Sandscript's Slide Down Hill 240 Ain't He Cute 241 What Adam Missed 241 Gunn'sLeg 242 Treadwater Jim Samuel W. Small 243 Experience With a Refractory Cow 244 The Railroad Crossing Hezekiah Strong 245 The First Client Irwin Russell 246 The Movement Cure for Rheumatism R. /. Burdette 247 She Meant Business -,, 249 The Wife-Hunting Deacon L. D. A. Suttle 250 His Flying Machine 251 Mr. Hoolahan's Mistake 252 Jester Condemned to Death Horace Smith 253 Ivove Under Difficulties 254 Mr. Bowser Takes Precautions 254 He Worried About It Lyman C. Abbott 256 Jack Hopkins' Story Charles Dickens 257 The Widow O'Shane's Rint 258 The Woman Next Door 259 The Spoopendykes 260 A Smooth Day Joe Tot, Jr. 261 The Cow and the Bishop..6'^c>. Alfred Toivnsend 262 Kate 263 Sam Weller's Valentine Charles Dickens 264 The Lost Penny 266 Two Visits ...N. E. M. Hatheway 266 Miss Malony on the Chinese Question Mary Mapes Dodge 267 The Knife of Boyhood ..Louise Upham 268 Not Guilty (?) ./. W. Hatton 269 The Cat's Bath 270 Tke Queer Little House „...,. 271 Reverie in Church Geo. A. Baker, Jr. 271 Baby's Logic Elizabeth IV. Bellamy 272 Abner's Second Wife 272 McCalla and the Widdy 273 The Huskin' Will F. McSparran 273 The Fancy Work Maiden 5. W. Foss 274 The Reason Why 27f A Bit of Shopping for the Country 27£ Mattie's Wants and Wishes Grace Gordon 276 Hattie's Views on Housecleaning 277 Pat's Wisdom 277 Modern Education 277 The Owl-Critic .James T. Field 27i The Reason Why 279 Song of the All-Wool Shirt 280 There Once Was a Toper 280 A Great Fit Orpheus C. Kerr 281 The Hypochondriac Dr. Valentine 282 The Chickeui 283 Aunty Doleful' s Visit Mary K. Dallas 283 Mr. Caudle and 'Ais Sec^^nd Wife Douglas Jerrold 284 A Woman's Pocket ^.,.. ./. M. Bailey 285 Baby's Soliloquy 28a A Disturbed Reverie 287 A Yankee in Love Alf Burnett 287 Dialogues and Tableaux. Young America Mrs. T. Starr King 28§ The Destiny of the Empress Josephine Mrs. F. F. Barritt 291 Mary Maloney's Philosophy 294 Recipe for Potato Pudding F. M. Whicher 295 The Rival Orators 298 Little Red Riding-Hood 300 Floral Offerings 304 Brought to Trial for Blowin' 305 Courtship Under Difficulties 307 How She Cured Him 310 Christmas Eve 312 Four Celebrated Characters 314 Tableaux 316 The Train to Mauro S. A. Frost 317 Constitution and By-Laws for Lyckums 321 PROGRAMMES FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS MANUAL OF PARLLA.MENTARY RULES AND PRACTICE 329 .330 Important Rules. r^-^^RATORY in all its refinement, belongs to lS^/J no particular people, to the exclusion of others ; nor is it the gift of nature alone ; but, like other acquirements, it is the reward of arduous efforts, under the guidance of consummate skill. Perfection, in this art, as well as in all others, is the work of time and labor, prompted by true feeling, and guided by correct thought. Elocution is not, as some erroneously suppose, something artificial in tones, looks and gestures, tliat may be learned by imitation. The princi- ples teach us — to exhibit truth and nature dressed to advantage; its objects are, to enable the reader, and speaker to manifest his thoughts, and feelings, in the most pleasing, perspi<:uous and forcible manner, so as to charm the affec- tions, enlighten the understanding, and leave the deepest, and most permanent impression, on the mind of the attentive hearer. Elocution is an art that teaches you how to manifest your feelings and thoughts to others, in such a way as to give them a true idea, and ex- pression of how, and what, you feel and think; and, in so doing, to make them feel and think as you do. Its object is, to enable you to commu- nicate to the hearers, the whole truth, just as it is ; in other words, to give you the ability to do perfect justice to the subject, to them, and to yourself. Reading should be a perfect facsimile of correct speaking ; and both exact copies of real life; hence, read just as you would naturally speak on the same subject, and under similar circumstances ; so that, if any one should hear y»u, without seeing you, he could not tell whether you were reading or speaking. Remem- ber that nothing is denied to industry and perse- verance ; and that nothing valuable can be obtained without them. Curran, a celebrated Irish orator, presents us with a signal instance of what can be accom- plished by assiduity and perseverance ; his enun- ciation was so precipitate and confused, that he was called ** stuttering Jack Curran." To over- •ome his numerous defects, he devoted a portion 4 of every day to reading and reciting aloud, slowly and distinctly, some of the most eloquent extracts in our language ; and his success was so complete, that among his excellencies as a speaker, was the clearness of his articulation, and an appropriate intonation, that melodized every sentence. Let the position be erect, and the body balanced on the foot upon which you stand; banish all care and anxiety from the mind ; let the forehead be perfectly smooth, the lungs entirely quiescent, and make every effort from the abdominal region. To expand the thorax and become straight, strike the palms of the hands together before, and the backs of them behind, turning the thumbs upward ; do all with a united action of the body and mind ; be in earnest, but husband your breath and strength ; breathe often, and be perfectly free, easy, inde - pendent, and natural. Do not hurry your enunciation of words, pre- cipitating syllable over syllable, and word over word ; nor melt them together into a mass of confusion, in pronouncing them ; do not abridge or prolong them too much, nor swallow nor force them ; but deliver them from your vocal and articulating organs, as golden coins from the mint, accurately impressed, perfectly finished, neatly and elegantly struck, distinct, in due suc- cession, and of full weight. Speak with your face. You know from obser- vation how persons look when surprised, angered, grieved, terror-stricken, happy, courageous, reso- lute, etc. Let every emotion be portrayed by your face and features according as the thought and sentiment require it. Speak with your arms, hands, eyes, and in short, with your whole body. Gesture aids ex- pression ; it should be graceful ; emphatic when required ; preceding slightly the sentiment you are to express ; and given only when it will add to the effect. Cultivate and strengthen your vuice by tbe constant practice of reading aloud, prolonj^ing the vowel sounds, and taking in full breathe, thus expanding the lungs. NoMS De Plume of Authors ASSUMED NAMB, REAI, NAMB A Country Parson . . . Archbishop Whately Agate Whitelaw Reid A. K. H. B. . . . . . . Rev. A. K. H. Boyd A. L. O. B Miss Charlotte Tucker Alfred Crowquill A. H. Forrester Americus Dr. Francis Lieber Amy I/Othrop Miss Anna B. Warner American Girl Abroad . Miss Trafton Artemus Ward .... Charles F. Browne Asa Trenchard . • . . . Henry Watterson Aunt Kitty Maria J. Macintosh Aunt Mary Mary A. Lathbury Barnacle A. C. Barnes Barry Cornwall .... Bryan Waller Proctor / Benjamin, Austin, and »^°="ly 1 Lyman Abbott Besieged Resident . . . Henry Labouchere Bibliophile Samuel Austin Allibone Bill Arp Charles H. Smith Blythe White, Jr. . . . Solon Robinson Bookworm Thomas F. Donnelly Boston Bard Robert S. Coffin Boz Charles Dickens Brick Pomeroy .... Mark M. Pomeroy Burleigh Rev. Matthew Hale Smith Burlington Robert Saunders Carl Benson Charles A. Bristed Chartist Parson .... Rev. Charles Kingsley Chinese Philosopher . . Oliver Goldsmith Christopher Crowfield . Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe Chrystal Croftangry . . Sir Walter Scott Claribel Mrs. Caroline Barnard Country Parson . . . . A. K. H. Boyd Cousin Alice Mrs. Alice B. Haven Cousin Kate Catherine D. Bell _ _, „ f Charlotte Bronte (Mrs. ^■^"^^^^ \ Nichols) Danbury Newsman . . J. M. Bailey Diedrich Knickerbocker Washington Irving Dolores Miss Dickson Dow, Jr Elbridge G. Page Dr. Syntax ...... William Combe Dunn Browne .... Rev. Samuel Fiske ASSUMED NAME REAI, NAME E.D.E.N I^f f""l°- ^' ^' ^ Southworth Edmund Kirke .... James Roberts Gilmore Eleanor Kirke Mrs. Nolly Ames Elia Charles Lamb Eli Perkins Matthew D. lyandon Elizabeth Wetherell . . Susan Warner Ella Rodman . . . c . Mrs. Eliza Rodman Ellis Bell Emily J. Bronte English Opium- Eater . Thomas DeQuincy Ettrick Shepherd . . . James Hogg Eugene Pomeroy . . . Thomas F. Donnelly Falconbridge Jonathan F. Kelly ^ ^ f Wife of James Parton au4 Fanny Fern. . . . . .^ sister of N. P. Willis Fanny Fielding .... Mary J . S. Upsher Fanny Forester .... Emily C. Judson Fat Contributor . . . . A. M. Griswold Father Prout Francis Mahoney Florence Percy .... Mrs. Elizabeth Akers Allen Frank Forrester .... Henry W. Herbert Gail Hamilton f Miss Mary Abigail Dodge t. of Hamilton Gath, also Laertes . . . George Alfred Townsend Geofi- . Crayon .... Washington Irving George Eliot Mrs. Marian Lewes Cross George Fitz Boodle . . William M. Thackeray George Forest Rev. J. G. Wood p S d fMme. Amantine Lucille ^ t Aurore Dudevant Grace Greenwood . . Mrs. Sara J. Lippincott Grace Wharton . . . . A. T. Thompson Hans Breitmann . . . Charles Godfrey Leland Hans Yokel A. Oakey Hall Harriet Myrtle .... Mrs. Lydia F. F. Miller Harry Hazell Justin Jones Harry Lorrequer . . . Charles Lever Hesba Stretton .... Miss Hannah Smith Hibernicus De Witt Clinton Historicus Wm. G. Vernon Harcoun Hosea Bigelow .... James Russell Lowell Howadji George William Curtis Howard Mordecai Manuel Noah 5 6 NOMS DE PLUME OF AUTHORS. ASSUMED nam:^ reai, name Howard Glyndon . . . Laura C. Redden Hyperion Josiah Quincy lanthe Bmma C. Embury Ik Marvel Donald G. Mitchell Irenaeus Rev. S. Irenseus Prime, D.D. Isabel William Gilmore Simms Janus Dr. DoUinger Jaques J. Hain Friswell Jay Charlton J. C. Goldsmith Jedediah Cleishbotham Sir Walter Scott Jennie June Mrs. Jennie C. Croly John Chalkhill .... Izaak Walton John Darby J. C. Garretson John Paul C. H. Webb John Phoenix, Gentleman George H. Der.^y Josh Billings Henry W. Shaw Joshua Coffin H. W. Longfellow Kate Campbell .... Jane Elizabeth Lincoln Kirwan Rev. Nicholas Murray K. N. Pepper . . Jamee M Morris /vaicus Rev. Lyman Abbott Launcelot Wagstaffe, Jr. Charles Mackay Lemuel Gulliver . . . Jonathan Swift Louise Muhlbach . . . Clara Mundt Major Jack Downing . . Seba Smith Marion Harland .... Mary V. Terhune Mark Twain Samuel L. Clemens Max Adler Charles H. Clark Minnie Myrtle .... Miss Anna C. Johnson Mintwood Miss Mary A. E. Wager M. Quad Charles B. Lewis Mrs. Partington . . . . B. P. Shillaber M. T. Jug Joseph Howard Ned Buntline Edward Z. C. Judson Nym Crinkle A. C. Wheeler Old Bachelor George William Curtis Old Cabinet R. Watson Gilder Old Humphrey .... George Mogridge Old'Un Erancis Alexander Durivdge Oliver Optic William Taylor Adams Olivia Emily Edson Grigg Ollapod Willis G. Clark Orpheus C. Kerr . . . Robert H. Newell f Ouida Louisa De La Rame Owen Meredith .... Lord Lytton Parson Brownlow . . . Wm. Gunnaway Brownlow Patty Lee Alice Cary Paul Creyton J. T. Trowbridge Pen Holder ...... Rev. Edward Eggleston Pequot . . . . , ... Charles W. March Perdita Mrs. Mary Robinson Perley Benj. Perley Poore Peter Parley S. G. Goodrich Peter Pindar Dr. John Wolcot ASSUMED NAME REAI, NAMS Petroleum V. Nasby . . D. R Locke Phoenix ....... Sir Henry Martin Poor Richard Benjamin Franklin Porte Crayon David H. Strother Private Miles O'Reilly . Charles G. Halpine Robinson Crusoe . . . Daniel Defoe Runnymede Lord Beaconsfield Rustic Bard Robert Dinsmore Sam Slick Thomas C. Halliburton Saxe Holm Miss Rush Ellis Shirley Dare Mrs. Susan D. Waters Sophie May Mrs. Eckerson Sophie Sparkle .... Jennie E. Hicks Sparrowgrass F. S. Cozzens Straws, Jr Kate Field Susan Coolidge .... Miss Woolsey Teufelsdroeckh .... Thomas Carlyle Teutha William J erdan The Black Dwarf . . . Thoinas J. Wooler The Celt Thomas Davis The Druid Henry H. Dixon The Governor Henry Morford The Traveller Isaac Stary Theodore Taylor . . . J. C. Hotten Thomas Ingoldsby . . . Rev. R. H. Barham Thomas Little Thomas Moore Thomas Rowley .... Thomas Chatterton Timon Fieldmouse . . William B. Rands Timothy Tickler . . . Robert Syme Timothy Titcomb ... Dr. J. G. Holland Tom Brown Thomas Hughes Tom Folio , Joseph E. Babson Tom Hawkins Theodore W. A. Buckley Trinculo John A. Cockerill Tristram Merton . . . Thomas B. Macaulay Two Brothers A. and C. Tennyson Ubique Parker Gilmore Una Mary A. Ford Uncle Hardy William Senior Uncle John Elisha Noyce Uncle Philip Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawk» Uncle Toby ..... . Rev. Tobias H. Miller Veteran Observer . . . E. D. Mansfield Vigilant John Corlett Vivian George H. Lewes Vivian Joyeux .... W. M. Praed Walter Maynard .... William Beaie Warhawk William Palmer Warrington W. P. Robinson Warwick F. O. Otterson Waters William H. Russel). What's His Name . . ..E. C. Massey Wilibald, Alexis .... William Haeriug Wizard John Corlett THE DELSARTE SYSTEM OF PHYSICAL CULTURE ^ EXPRESSION |ASE and naturalness are among the chief requisites for effective reading and re- citing. There is a natural way of expressing every thought and emotion. Mind and body should work together in perfect har- mony. Delsarte aims to show how this can be done. To the uninformed, his name stands hazily for some kind of mysticism. The simple fact is, that there is no more mysticism connected with his teachings and philosophy than there is about any philosophy which has to do with mind rather than with matter. It would be impracticable here to give an exhaustive account of Delsarte' s life and philos- ophy, even were that possible. The object will be simply to state such facts as* will enable the young student of the art of expression to under- stand why ' ' Delsarteism, " popularly so-called, exercises the authority it does. In his particular field Delsarte was the greatest teacher of modem times, and the only one who can be said to have attained to a philosophy of expression. He did not leave, nor did he even formulate, a pedagogical method, but he did formulate and leave rules and principles that are fundamental. Early Life of Delsarte. Francois Delsarte was born November ii, ^8ii, at Solesmes, France. Early orphaned and impoverished, he drifted like many another waif to Paris, where in the bitter winter of 182 1 he lived in a loft with his younger brother. As morning dawned after one awful night, he woke to find he clasped a lifeless body in his arms. Hunger and exposure had proved fatal to the younger child. As Frangois lay weeping on the grave of the brother just buried in the potter's field, a ragpicker, pursuing his calling, was attracted by what appeared to be a bundle of rags. He found the object to be a half-starved child. Moved with compassion, he took the lad to his own miserable abode, and from this squalor the future teacher and philosopher began his career as a ragpicker. For two years he followed his wretched avoca- tion, but within his soul burned the passion for music, and in his daily wanderings he gratified his passion as best he could, drinking in the ditties of itinerant vocalists, the playing of military bands, snatches of songs, or instrumental performances that floated truant to his hungry ear. The Boy Finds a Friend. At twelve, attracted by music in the garden of the Tuilleries, he was observed tracing some curious marks in the sand by one of the musical masters of the time — Bambini. At the request of the professor, the boy translated his hiero^ glyphics into song. To the question as to where he learned them, he replied, *' Nobody taught me, sir, I found it out myself." Bambini recognized genius. He took the lad to his home and began his education in music. During two years such was the progress of the boy that *' Bambini became the pupil, Delsarte the teacher. ' ' Just then came a great misfortune — the death of his kind protector. Fortunately Bambini had 7 8 THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. ^ICtti^d. Delsarte's admission to the Conservatory. Again, poor and friendless, he had to face the world. He was not a favorite at the Conser- vatory, because he dared to question the methods of the professors, reputed as they were. In after life he proved their methodr i:ico^rect and injurious. In consequence of what they termed his audacity, he was given little opportunity for public singing, and when occasion was afforded, his .style and manner were so essentially unlike the methods of the Conservatory, that the public were not prepared for approval. We are told that only two persons of the vast audience com- prehended and appreciated, but the opinion of those two overbalanced all the rest — Marie Malebran, the '* queen of song," and Adolphe Nourrit, ' ' the king of tenors. ' ' In due time he left the Conservatory. Failing to obtain a position, he was forced to subject himself to the humiliation of asking the directors for a diploma that he might secure a position in a lyric theatre. He was scornfully refused and told that ' ' such genius should have gravitated to its proper sphere without difficulty or without assistance." A Brilliant Triumph. Then he sought opportunity to sing at the Opera House, begging the manager for just one chance. When the latter eyed him contempt- uously, Delsarte, sensitive r.nd keenly observant, said, ' ' Monsieur, though my clothes are poor my art is genuine." The manager, tired of his persistence and anxious to be rid of him, ushered him upon the stage between the acts of an opera and roughly addressed him: *' Sing, Delsarte! In five minutes the curtain will rise. Show the stuff you are made of, or if you ever appear here again I will have you arrested as a vagrant. ' ' And we are told that the ' ' beggar with the manners of a prince ' ' walked to the piano amid the jeers of the audience, and with tears in his eyes and his heart on his lips, sang. But what singing ! *' The long pent-up fires of his genius burst forth. The people were electrified j the house rang with bratdy Again and again he was recalled, and every heartstriiig was made to vibrate in unison with his soulful utterances. He left the theatre the first singer of Paris. ' * The Lad Becomes Famous. Soon after this, neatly attired and bearing his appointment at the Opera Comique, he made a brief call at the Conservatory to confirm the directors in their judgment that **true genius should find its proper sphere. ' ' He gave tangible proof of it in his commission, and smiling, point* edly observed, * ' Gentlemen, you would not give me a recommendation as a chorister, but the public have =:-warded me this. ' ' This occurred in 1830 He soon won a European reputation. But his voice, injured by incorrect methods of train- ing and the physical strain of years of hardship, lost its power, and he left the lyric stage at the age of twenty-three. In spite of this, every inducement was given him to appear in tragedy with Rachel at the Theatre Frangais, the belia prevailing that his vocal difficulties were but temporary. He believed them incurable, and turned his attention to acting, because deeply interested in expression as an art. He deter- mined to search the laws of an art hitherto left to the ' ' caprice of mediocrity or the inspiration of genius. ' ' He found little to aid him in the accepted teachings of the time and was left to pursue his investigations according to his own independent methods. The true genius of the man led him to the right fountain — nature, the only fundamental source. He studied life and its natural ex- pression in all its manifestations, in all conditions, and such a course of study took him everywhere — '' through hospitals, morgues, asylums, prisons, patiently unearthing the sentiments of past genius. He studied children at their play, weighing humanity everyAvhere and in every way. He studied years in medical colleges to understand the construction of the human body. He studied a lifetime to formulate its expression, to convey through the body, beautifully and THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. 9 rythmically, the sentiments of the soul." He was a keen observer and a careful thinker and reasoner. After years of observation of the manifestations of the mind through the body, he sought for the underlying philosophy of these manifestations. Great Success As a Teacher. All this time he was teaching, and among his pupils were Rachel, Carvalto, Macready, Pasca, Sontag and Barbot. Jenny Lind consulted him. Pere Hyacinth and Pere Lacordaire, of pulpit fame, were also among his pupils. He became so great a teacher that he won a recognition that would have brought him wealth and a fame more widely understood and recog- nized, had not death cut short his career. He was offered an annual salary of $20,000 to found a conservatory in the United States. The King of Hanover, recognizing him as an artist, sent him the Guelph cross. A street in his native town, Solesmes, was named in his honor. His last public appearance was in 1865, at the Sorbonne, where the lectures of the Philo- technique Society were given. His Own Words. It is recorded that during the evening he re- marked : ' ' Many persons feel confident they ^re to hear me recite or sing. Nothing of the iroTt, gentlemen ; I shall not recite and I shall not sing, because I desire less to show you what I can do than to tell you what I know. I count on the novelty — the absolute novelty — of the things I shall teach you. Art is the subject of this conversation. Art is divine in its principle, divine in its essence, divine in its action, divine in its aim. Ah ! gentlemen, there arc no pleas- ures more lasting, more noble, and more sacred than those of art. Let us glance around us. There is not a pleasure which is not followed by disappointment or satiety ; not a joy which does not entail some trouble ; not an affection which does not conceal some bitterness, some grief, and often some remorse. Everything is disappointing to man. Everything about him changes and passes away. Ever}'^thing betrays him. Even his senses, so closely allied to his being and to which he sacrifices everything like faithless servants betray him in their turn. ' ' His Marriage. Delsarte married, in 1833, Rosina Adrien, the daughter of the director of the Grand Opera House — a beautiful young girl of only fifteen years, whose talent as a pianist had already won her a first prize at the Conservatory. Seven children were Dorn to them. His son Gustave died prematurely. It is said of him that, although not approaching his father as a drama- tist, he had a most marvellous quality of voice, and when you had once heard that voice, which was developed by his father's grand method, you never forgot its sincerity and melancholy. It haunted you and left you longing to hear it again. Closing Days of His Life. Delsarte left Paris with his family in 1870, taking refuge until the close of the war in his native town of Solesmes. Already ill, he was disheartened and crushed by the misfortunes of his country. He worked steadily on, however, his intellect having lost none of its vigor, though his nature had become more or less shadowed. After his voluntary exile he returned to Paris ir». March, 187 1. *' After Delsarte had gathered so abundant a harvest of laurels, fate decreed he had lived long enough. When he reached his sixtieth year he was attacked by hypertrophy of the heart, which left his rich organization in ruins. He was no longer the artist of graceful, supple expression and harmonious movements, no longer the thinker with profound and luminous ideas ; but in the midst of this physical and intellectual ruin, the Christian's sentiment retained its strong, sweet energy. ''After lingering for months in a state that was neither life nor death, surrounded by his pious wife and weeping, praying children, he surrendered his soul to God on the 20th of July, 1871." 10 THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. Delsarte's Philosophy. Delsarte was a man of religious feeling and knew religious books better than other books. He was acquainted with the lore of the priests, to which he was indebted for his philosophy. I Tradition affirms that he was much Wterested in, i and studied Swedenborg. This theory is con- firmed by the fact that certain fundamental ideas in his philosophy ard the expression of them are intrinsically Swedenborgian. One of the fundamental principles of Del- sarte' s philosophy is the law of correspondence, which was discovered by Swedenborg, who held that the material world corresponds to the spiritual world and is the manifestation of man's , mental being. In other words, that the spiritual world is symbolized in the physical world. Applied to expression, the interpretation of this law is: ^' Every expression of the face, every posture of the body, corresponds to, or is but an outward expression of, an inner cnotion or con- dition of the mind." Law of Correspondence. In the correspondence of the different parts of the body, Delsarte' s idea was not that mental and moral attributes dwell in these parts, but that certain parts best represent, best express, i:ertain attributes. For example, the head in its poise, etc., represents intellect better /han any other part of the body ; the trunk, affection ; the limbs, power. Each part can represent a certain attribute better than it can represent other attributes. For proof of the fundamental truth of this principle we need appeal only to our intuition, that highest of all the powers of judgment, exer- cising it upon the familiar illustration of every- day life and expression. The mother presses her child to her breast in token of affection, not to her head or to her arms. The head is bent in thought. We encircle a friend with the fore- arm in friendly demonstration, not with the upper arm ; with that we push aside. In this short discussion only the merest index to lines of thought can be suggested to the student. Laws of Movement. Delsarte held that in gesture or movement of the body, the parts should move in opposition. In proof of the correctness of his theory he appealed, as before, to the intuition, judging by common observation. When walking normally the right arm goes forward with the left foot Parallelism offends our idea of fkness and grace Opposition of movement marks not only beauty but sincerity, according to his ideas, and these things prove themselves by their appeal to our observation. The workings of this law can be demonstrated and proven through all parts of the body — there is opposition everywhere. Another law of movement which claims the student's attention is that ot Siiccessiono '* If two parts are used at the same time, they move in opposition ; but, if moved successively, as to time, they move in the same direction—- parallel directions." For example, if a culti- vated person hears something when listening, the eye is turned away from the ear \ when he turns toward the direction of the sound to examine, the eye is turned first, then the head, then the body. The uncultivated person turns all at once — has no parts. The uncultivated body moves in the mass, is lumbering, stiff, in one word, awkward. The cultivated body is supple and responsive to mental impulses, in one word, graceful. Thus ease and naturalness alwa.vs exhibit themselves in persons who have all their powers under control, and have reached the highest point of mental and physical training. Another law relating to movement involves this idea : ' ' Every gesture takes its value from the point of departure — it is mental, moral or vital, according to its point of departure. ' ' A- gesture of mentahty takes its point of departure from the head. A gesture takes its moral value from, the chest as a point of departure. The gesture of vitality is from the vital part of the body. If the emotion be anger, and intellectual anger, because of opposition to truth, the finger will come up to the head — '*I TI^E DELSARTE SYSTEM. n declare this to be so and so." If the anger involve the sense of right, the point of departure will be the region of the heart. If the offence be physical, the gesture will be low, in the region of the hips. Then there is the law of Unity of Movement. No part act? alone. The parts assist one another, and thus in the matter of gesture con- firm one another; otherwise, there would be discord and lack of symmetry. In this line Delsarte did a great deal of pioneer work, and those who have followed his methods have had much wo'k to do properly and thoroughly to insist upo'^ this law of action, obvious as it is. Should any agent of the body make a gesture which the other parts of the body seem to deny, there is evident mental disagreement and physi- cal awkwardness. The gesture will seem not suitable to the thought, although upon close discrimination the leading «gent will be found to be responding correctly. Many an actor and public reader has been termed untrue and justly termed awkward be- cause of a lack of unity in all the parts taken together. The Law of Economy. This is the fundamental law of all grace and beauty in nature! *' No part of the body is used without a definite purpose in view, and no part is used more than is absolutely necessary to the end sought." This law, as do all these fundamental laws of nature, appeals to our intuition for proof. The awkward, clumsy person moves parts not neces- sary to the action, indulges in superflous move- ments and finds himself in his own way. Following close in logical sequence and insep- arable in action, is the law of centers, radically involving the preceding law. ' ' The center seems to impel all the other parts. That which impels the whole body is the center of the chest," Note that the upright, easy, graceful walker seems impelled by the chest. Should the head l«ad, we have a mincing, weak walk. If the hips lead, there is an appearance of vulgarity. Obedience to this law secures grace. These laws, as has been indicated, prove themselves, and their collaboration and applica- tion in the art of expression show the careful and extensive observation and philosophical genersj ization of Delsarte' s thought and work. Thes. are the laws underlying his philosophy. Highest Law of Art. ''Art rests right upon that law of spon- taneity. ' ' Nature is spontaneous in action, by means of that secret spring of reflex action. One of the truest of his followers, commenting upon this very point, has put and answered these most pertinent questions; " How did Delsarte learn his various principles were true ? How did he 'iearn what gestures mean ? By watching what people did when excited by their emotions. What did these spring from ? From the spon- taneity of the mind." Thus all expression should come from an inward impulse, and where mind and body are in perfect harmony the ex- pression will be exactly suited to the thought and emotion — nothing forced about it, nothing mechanical, but rather the free act of a living being in distinction from a mere machine. Necessity for Especial Training of Mind and Body for Expression. It goes without saying, that both the voice and the ability to express thought and feeling must be developed and cultivated. But it is not so quickly and generally recognized that physical culture is a necessary concomitant of education in expression. Be the mind never so well trained, profound and agile in thought, if the body, its medium of manifestation, be unculti- vated, muscles stiff or inert, and unable to respond quickly and intelligently to the mentaJ impulses, the result must be awkwardness, weak' ness and inaccuracy of gesture. Cultivate the muscles, rendering the whole physique in every part pliable and quick to respond to the emotions, and there will be naturally the conformity to the laws which t^ THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. Delssiie primarily deduced from nature. That a student may effectively render a selection, it is not necessary that he should carefully and mechanically formulate what emotions are appro- priate to the thoughts expressed in it, and then select and learn the gestures appropriate to such States of mind. Let him work upon the selection, calling upon the imagination until he can live \hose scenes and have those states of mind described, and the body will respond. The formula is simple! *^ Objects appeal tc the mind, the mind acts, the body expresses." Does this need proof? " Give a dog some- thing he wants ; some secret spring will move his eyes and wriggle his tail just right. ' ' It will not be necessary to look up the proper rules first and then instruct him to place and move his parts to correspond. Children act naturally, and their actions are spontaneous. They have no rules for expression, yet in the main no expression is more effective They are natural in all things. Use of Gestssres. Gesture is the delineation in the air, by the physical agents of the body, of mental concep- tions, " The basis of oratory is to get the body to respond to the thought. ' ' In every act of the human being we have to recognize the close and subtle relation of body and soul. The mind is the divine in man, the only source of instruction to the body. ' ' Gesture is in the soul. ' * Gesture was, undoubtedly, man's first and only language. Gesture includes more than the movements of the hands and arms, or the body as a whole. It necessarily includes all the ph^'sical agents, all parts of the body, the most subtle of all being the eye and mouth. In reference to the mouth, this does not mean its action in speech. There is a subtle movement of the mouth accompanying both speech and silence that is most significant. Culture of the Body^ Now, how can we cultivate the responsive power of the body to enable the body to be a more ready, more transparent medium for the mind? Obviously, the first essential condition is a healthy body, and physical culture aids in effecting this as powerfully as in rendering the muscles elastic. Exercising any groups of mus- cles impels, physically, to the instinctive adjust^ ment of all the muscles to effect unity with the group exercised. To sum up in a few words, the trend of these statements concerning gesture is only to say to the sincere student, let nature work in her own divine way. Cultivate the mind to comprehend, the body to respond^ and your gestures will take care of themselves, as have always the gestures of every God-inspired orator and reader. Yet, to have some practical instruction, based on the principles already stated, will aid the young strident. Gestures of the Hand. jJeisarte taught his criteria of gesture of the hand with a cube. Holding the hand out straight, palm up. so that the cube can rest on it, signifies upholding, sustaining. Delsarte adds, ''giving," ''receiving;" but it will be observed the action of the hand is the same for both. The hand passed to the side gives the position of separation, which Delsarte calls "definition." If the hand be raised to attract attention, the forefinger will be inclined to act, thus separating the person desired from others. The hand passed to the top of the cube covers it, protects ; thus held flat, signifies protection ; curved, implies something more tender---a caress. The same gesture is a true one when describing certain actions, as of animals running — they cover so much ground. The term "cover" is considered by one of our own great teachers a more generic term than "protect," The hand passed to the opposite side gives the attitude of rejection, a familiar gesture. The hand passed to the outer end, palm toward the cube, signifies limitation ; passed to the end next the person, back of hand to cube, fingers pointing up, sig- nifies revelation. The palm may mean repulsion or attraction, depending on the sentiment. THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. 13 A person of great responsiveness i:^ apt to use both hands and also both arms. The whole personality is interested. In merely mental activity — reasoning- — one hand, one finger will be employed. The gestures of the arm enforce those of the hand. The *' perpendicular" movements of the arm are those of appellation, salutation, affirmation. The '* lateral" movements are those of declara- tion, negation, rejection. The *' forward" movements are those of repulsion, attraction, supplication. The altitude of gestures depends somewhat on the position of the object of thought. The hand will move in curves — nature's own lines. All gestures are affected by the altitude which indi- cates the moral plane. Greater intellectuality gives higher gt^tures. The more vividly the imagination works, rendering the thought bril- liant, the higher the gestures. It must be remembered that we have spoken of the gestures of only one agent, the hand- The nobler and subtler gestures are of the face and chest. The eye has a language of its own ; it is a wonderful agent of expression. Look your thought ; speak it with your eyes. All the features of your face were made to talk. Let your face speak all emotions — surprise, joy, fear, hope, expectancy, anguish, in short, every mood of the inner being. Feel the emotions ; make them your ^wn, and then express them naturally. Exercises for the Body. 1. With body erecl and hands at sides, move the head to right and left, and forward and backward ; cultivates the muscles of the neck. 2. With hands on the hips, move the upper part of the body to right and left, and forward and backward; this cultivates the muscles of the chest and back. 3. Close the hands, extend the arms in front, and bring the hands together behind the back ; repeat at least twenty times. 4. Stand erect, with arms straight at the sides; Jiftove the arms outward from the sides, and elevate them, bringing the hands above the head; repeat at least twenty times. 5. Hold the right arm out horizontally, palm of hand upward j double the left arm, the tips of the ' fingers resting on the shoulder ; then stretch out the left arm, at the same time doub- ling the right arm and placing the tips of the fingers on the right shoulder ; repeat, and then make the movements with both arms simul- taneously. 6. Holding the arms straight, swing them with a rotary motion, thrusting them forward as they are elevated and backward as they are lowered, bringing them to the sides, and then repeat. 7. Lift the hands from the sides to the shoulders, then raise the arms at full length above the head, and also extend them hori- zontally, dropping them at the sides ; repeat. The Lower Limbs. ^.. Standing erect, with the hands on the hips, lower the body, bending the knees, the weight resting on the toes, and rise; repeat at least fifteen times, but not too fast. 9. Placing the hands on the hips, right leg forward and left leg slightly bent ; thrust the body forward, thus straightening the left leg and bending the right; then placing the left leg forward, repeat movements. 10. With the body bent forward, closed hands between the knees, raise the body and elevate the hands above the head, taking care to keep the arms straight ; repeat. 11. Place the hands on the front side of the hips, bend the body forward, and then rise to an erect position, at the same time throwing th^ head backward : repeat. 12. Steady yourself with one hand on a chair place the other hand on the hip and swing the leg forward across the other; then backward; repeat, and then swing the other leg in likr manner. 13. Steady yourself with one hand on a chair, place the other hand on the hip, and swing the leg forward and backward ; repeat, and then swing the other leg in like maimer. u THE DELSARTE SYSTEM. 140 Stretch the boJy forward, placing the hands on the bottom of a chair ; then straighten the arms and raise the body. This must not be repeated so many times as to render the muscles sore and stiff. 15. Extend the arms forward at full length, ~>alms downward ; then move the hands back- ^^ard and forward as far as possible ; this renders the fingers and muscles of the wrist pliant. 16. Stand erect with hands on the hips and light weight on the head; then rise on the toes and fall. 17. Extend the arms slightly from the sides, close the hands and then rotate them 3 this cul- tivates the muscles of the arms. 18. With body erect and hands on the hips, fill the lungs to their utmost capacity; then slowly emit the breath. Fill the lungs again, and emit more rapidly; again, and emit with a quick, explosive force. Cultivation and Use of the Voice. The parts primarily and directly concerned in the production of the human voice in speech and song are the articulating organs and cham- ber: of resonants, the vocal cords, the lungs, and. the muscles of respiration. We cannot, however, separate the voice from any of the vital parts of the body. It is connected with the whole being, not only physically, but ment- ally and morally. Muscles and organs are all governed by nerves ; the nerves are controlled by the brain. Thus, physiologically, the voice is vitally connected vith the unity of man's being. In no sense md in no way whatever is it a thing by itself to ')e cultivated alone. The prime physical aid to the culti\aation of the voice is a healthy body. All the vocal irgans should respond quickly and easily to mind and will, to the thought and emotion, and the mental effort employed in expressing them. There should be training of the mind and fB-Y to conceive beautiful tones, and also culti- ation of the facial muscles to permit firm and lefinite moulding. People mumble their speech. not only because they have incorrect ideas of sound, but also because the muscles do not take definite action — they are flaccid and are not keyed up and trained to the point of properly doing their work. Suggestions to Readers. The reader must always remember that his work is distinctly and wholly for others. Keep ever in mind that you read your selection to please, to instruct, to inspire your fellow-beings, and not to exhibit yourself and your powers; then there will be no danger of self-conscious- ness. Then be thoroughly and entirely alive. No perfection of manner can atone for lack of life. Again, although there is no human device by which to measure it, time is necessary for the transmission of thought. It takes time for your voice to reach the physical ear of the listener, then time for the thought to reach his conscious- ness and produce its effect. Give time for the thought to implant itself. In addition to this there is no more suggestive emphasis than a pause. Take care not to do all your thinking before- hand ; cultivate the power to think on your feet, at the time you are speaking, otherwise your reading will indeed be a recitation — a mere mechanical recapitulation of past thinking — and it will lack the fire of the soul's present action, which alone touches and inflames the hearts of others. A selection just committed, on the other hand, without having had time to be well- grounded and analyzed, will be given in a mass - -all alike. Talk with your audience, not at them or over their heads. Cultivate a conversational style. It has been said of one of the greatest of our orators — Wendell Phillips — that his oratory was that of ''a gentleman talking." Remember the greatest thing you bring to an audience is your own personality. Would you succeed in your art, cultivate all that goes to make up the great artist — ^body, heart and soul. RECITATIONS with LESvSON TALKS ** FLAG THE TRAIN." IThe last words of Kngineer Edward Kennar, who died in a railroad accident near St. Johnsville, N. Y.] O, flag the train, boys, flag the train! Nor waste the time on me ; But leave me by my shattered cab ; 'Tis better thus to be ! It was an awful leap, boys, But the worst of it is o'er; I hear the Great Conductor's call Sound from the farther shore, 2. I hear sweet notes of angels, boys. That seem to say : '^Well done ! '* I see a golden city there. Bathed in a deathless sun ; There is no night, nor sorrow, boys, No wounds nor bruises there ; The way is clear — the engineer Rests from his life's long care. 3. Ah! 'twas a fearful plunge, my lads; I saw, as in a dream, Those dear, dear faces, looming up In yonder snow)' stream ; Down in the Mohawk's peaceful depths Their image rose and smiled, E'en as we took the fatal leap ; Oh God^ — my wife 1 my child ! 4. Well, never mind ! I ne'er shall see That wife and child again ; But hasten, hasten, leave me, boys ! For God's sake, flag the train ! Farewell, bright Mohawk ! and farewell My cab, my comrades all ; I'm done for, boys, but hasten on. And sound the warning call ! 5. Oh, what a strange, strange tremor this That steals unceasing on I Will those dear ones I've cherished so Be cared for when I'm gone! Farewell, ye best beloved, farewell I I've died not all in vain- Thank God ! The other lives are saved ; Thank God! They've flagged the train ! William B. Chisholm. LESSON TALK. In reciting this piece your manner should be ani- mated ; no dragging, no drawling. You are to put yourself in the place of the engineer, who nobly stood to his post and lost his life. At the »ame time remember it is a dying man who is speaking and you must not be boisterous. Subdued, animated, intense expression is required. 1. The first part of this verse has tne force of com- mand, with rapid utterance. Extend the right arm, with the palm of the hand outward. Lower the voice on the third line, relax the muscles and express submission by tone and look. Assume a listening attitude in the last two lines. 2. Continue the expression of the last two lines of the preceding verse through this verse. The main feeling is that of triumph. Lift the eyes and hands on the lines beginning, "I see a golden city," etc. Drop the eyes and hands on the last two lines and assume an easy, natural attitude. 3. Begin this verse in a tone only a little above a whisper, with face and manner expressing horror. Point to "those dear, dear faces looming up." This is all vivid description. You see the faces in imagi- nation, and what you see and realize should be made real to your audience. This is the only successful reading. On the last line of the verse raise the voice to high pitch, clasp the hands convulsively and let the tone and manner express anguish. The delivery should be intense, rapid, and here, as always, show- ing an absence of all self-consciousness. 4. The first two lines require an easy, subdued manner, expressive of resignation. Suddenly the Cianner changes and the utterance grows quick and 15 16 RECITATIONS WITH LESSON TALKS. intense The manner suddenly changes again on the fifth line and the tone becomes plaintive. Anxiety for the safety of the train comes out strongly in the last two lines. 5. The tremor of death now comes creeping on, and the first two lines may appropriately be spoken in a whisper. With a wave of the hand deliver the ''farewell.'* Then in a tone of exultation exclaim, "I've died," etc. This is an excellent selection for rapid changes of tone and expression, and for dramatic effect. The success of the rendering will depend upon your power to picture the scene vividly. THE MISSING SHIP. 1. It was long before the cable stretched across the ocean, when the steamers did not make such rapid runs from continent to conti- nent, that the ship Atlantic was missing. She had been due in New York for some days, and the people began to despair. * * The Atlantic has not been heard from yet!'* "What news from the Atlantic on Exchange?" 2. "None." Telegraph dispatches come in from all quarters. "Any news from the Atlan- tic ? ' ' And the word thrilled along the wires to the hearts of those who had no friends on board. "No." Day after day passed, and people began to be excited when the booming of the guns told that a ship was coming up the Narrows. People went out upon the Battery and Castle Garden with their spy- glasses ; but it was a British ship, the Union Jack was flying ; they watched her come to her moorings anr" their hearts sank within them. 3. "Any news from the Atlantic ?^^ "Has not the Atlantic arrived?" "No!" "She sailed fifteen days before we did, and we have heard nothing from her, ' ' and the people said, "there is no use hoping against hope, she has gone. She has made her last port. " 4. At length one bright and beautiful morn- ing the guns boomed across the bay, and a ship was seen coming into port. Down went the people to the Battery and Castle Garden. It was a British ship again, and their hearts seemed to die within them. But up she came, making a ridge of white foam before her, and you could hear a heavy sigh from that crowd, as if it were the last hope dying out. 5. Then they wiped away the dimness of grief and watched the vessel. Round she came most gallantly, and as she passed the immense crowds on the wharves and at Castle Garden, tho crew hoisted flags from trucks to mainchains. An officer leaped upon the paddle-box, put his trumpet to his lips, and cried out, ' ' The Atlantic is safe. She has put into port foi repairs 1 ' ' 6. Then such a shout ! Oh, now they shouted ! Shout ! shout ! shout ! " The Atlantic is safe ! ' ' Bands of music paraded the streets, telegraph wires worked all night long, "The Atlantic \^ safe, ' ' bringing joy to milhons of hearts, and yet not one in a hundred thousand of those who rejoiced had a friend or relative on board that steamer. It was sympathy with the sorrows of others, with whom they had no tie in common save that which God created when he made of one blood all the nations of the earth, and per- mitted us, as brethren, to call him the common Father of us all. John B. Gough. LESSON TAIvK. In the first verse you have an easy description until you come to the last lines. Raise the voice and express anxiety by rapid, intense utterance. In the second verse the same intense expression should appear. The first part of the second paragraph con- tains a joyous announcement. Point to the ship coming up the Narrows. Drop the hand to the side and express disappointment as you say, "it was a British ship. ' * IvCt your animated manner show the excitement of the people, who, in verse 3, are inquiring about the "Atlantic" End the verse in deep, subdued tones. In verse 4 the manner suddenly changes, and ring- ing tones of joy announce the arrival of a ship. In verse 5 there is a vivid description ; picture the scene to your own mind, and with eyes fixed, and outstretched hand, depict it. Imitate by a lond, ring- ing call, the officer on the paddle-box. The last verse requires an elevated pitch. Shout on the word "shout." With your most rapid utter- ance depict the despatches flying in all directiona. announcing that the ' ' Atlantic ' ' is safe. y. '^«^yi^ REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES DICKENS 1. THE BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES DICKENS, COMMERCIAL ROAD, PORTSEA. 2. THE "daRK COURT" IN FLEET STREET, (JOHNSON'S COURT) WHERE DICKENS POSTED HIS FIRST SKETCH. 3. THE HOUSE IN FURNIVAL'S INN WHERE "PICKWICK" WAS WRITTEN. 4. CHARLES DICKENS EDITING "HOUSEHOLD WORDS." 5. THE CHURCH IN WHICH DICKENS WAS MAR- RIED, ST. LUKE'S, CHELSEA. 6. GAD'S HILL PLACE, ROCHESTER, THE NOVELISTS' LAST HOME. 7. THE MOAT, ROCHESTER CASTLE, WHERE DICKENS DESIRED TO BE BURIED. FRANCIS WILSON "It was all about a— ha! ha! and a--ho! ho! ho!--well reallv It is— he! he! he!— I never could begin to tell you." (A Fine Study of Mirth) Fig. I.— declaring. This rock shall fly as soon as I. Fig. 2.— announcing. We hold these tru.hs to be self-evident. Fig. 3— revealing. Wait a moment ; you shall know the whole story. Fig. 4.— denying— rejecting. A proposition so infamous should instantly be voted down. Fig. 5.— defending. Brave was Eudora to defend her child. Fig. 6.— PROTECTING— soothing. It is not the part of strength to crush, but to sheher and defend Fig. 7.— presenting OR RECEIVING. Give thy heart's best treasures ; wait not a return. Fig. 8.— signalling. This way, this way ! and step lively, too. Fig. 9-— designating. Look ! Do you think my eyes deceive me ? Fig. io.-SILENCE. Hush, hark ! That sound breaks in once more. Fig. II.— secrecy. Tell it not in Gath, publi-h it not in the streets ^f Askelon. Fig. 12.— meditation. In thought profound Adalbert stood Fig. 13.— indecision. The road forks — now, which shall it be? Fig. 14.— defiance. Again to the battle, Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance Fig. 15.— repulsion. Avaunt ! Richard's himself again. Fig. i6.— exaltation. And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame. Fig. 17.— wonderment. Sure enough, Santa Claus had come down the chimney. Fig. i8.— gladness. A mother's pride, a father's joy. Fig. 19.— anguish. Oh ! how should I pour out my bleeding heart in anguish, new as deepi Fig. 20.— remorse. Oh, wretched state ! Oh, bosom black as death ! Fig. 21.— awe— appeal. The spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Fig. 22.— horror. Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts ! Fig. 23.— dispersion. Scatter and disperse the giddy Goths I Fig. 24.— discerning. 'Land, ho !" cried the man at the masthead. Fig. 25.— tender REJECTION. Pain barbs the word ; yet I must say. Depart ! Fig. 26.— self-reproach. Alas ! the soul-bird sings no longer. Fig. 27.— grief. Stricken, I fell beneath that weight of woe. Fig. 28.— malediction. Curse all his intrigues ! they've undone his country. Fig. 29.— accusation. Thou art the man. Her manners had not that repose v/hich stamps the cast of Vere de Vere Fig. 3I-— invocation. >'«gel of mercy ! grant a pitying sigh. Fig. 32.— correct POSITIONS OF THE HANDS. , T. Simple affirmation. 2. Emphatic declaration. 3. Apathy or prostration. 4. Energetic appeal. 5. Negation or denial. 6. Violent repulsion. 7. Indexing or cautioning. 8. Determination or anger. 9. Supplication. 10. Gentle entreaty. 11. Carelessness. 12. Argu- mentation. 13. Earnest entreaty. 14. Resignation. Descriptive Recitations. THE RED JACKET. JS a cold, bleak night ! with angry roar The north winds beat and clamor at the door; The drifted snow lies heaped along the street, Swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet ; The clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend, But o'er the earth in gloom and darkness bend; Gigantic shadows, by the night lamps chrown, Dance their weird revels fitfully alone. In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease, Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas ; In happy homes, where warmth and comfort m^et, The weary traveler with their smiles to greet ; In lowly dwellings, where the needy swarm Round starving embers, chrHing limbs to warm. Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light— - ** Thank God for home, this bitter, bitter night ! ' ' But hark ! above the beating of the storm Peals on the startled ear the fire alarm ! Yon gloomy heaven's aflame with sudden light, And heart-beats quicken with a strange affright ; From tranquil slumbers springs, at duty's call, Tht ready friend no danger can appall ; Fk ice for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave. He hurries forth to battle and to save. From yonder dwelling, fiercely shooting out, Devouring all they coil themselves about. The flaming furies, mounting high and higher. Wrap the frail structure in a cloak of fire. ^Jtrong arms are battling with the stubborn foe In vain attempts his power to overthrow ; With mocking glee he revels with his prey. Defying human skill to check his way. 2 And see ! far up above the flame's, iiot breath. Something that's human waits a horrid death; A little child, with waving golden hair, Stands, like a phantom, 'mid the horrid glare, Her pale, sweet face against the window pressed. While sobs of terror shake her tender breast. And from the crowd beneath, in accents wild, A mother screams, *'0 God! my child my child!'' Up goes a ladder. Through the startled throng A hardy fireman swiftly moves along ; Mounts sure and fast along the slender way, Fearing no danger, dreading but delay. The stifling smoke-clouds lower in his path. Sharp tongues of flame assail him in their wrath : But up, still up he goes ! the goal is won ! His strong arm beats the sash, and he is gone 1 Gone to his death. The wily flames surround And burn and beat his ladder to the ground, In flaming columns move with quickened beat To rear a massive wall 'gainst his retreat. Courageous neart, thy mission was so pure, Suffering humanity must thy loss deplore ; Henceforth with martyred heroes thou shalt live. Crowned with all honors nobleness can give. Nay, not so fast ; subdue these gloomy fears ; Behold 1 he quickly on the roof appears. Bearing the tender child, his jacket warm Flung round her shrinking form to guard from harm. Up with your ladders ! Quick ! ' tis but a chance ! Behold . how fast the roaring flames advance ] 17 18 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. Quick ! quick ! brave spirits, to his rescue fly ; Up ! up ! by heavens ! this hero must not die { Silence ! he comes along the burning road, Bearing, with tender care, his living load ; Aha ! he totters ! Heaven in mercy save I The good, true heart that can so nobly brave. He's up again I and now heS . BRACE UPo "® RACE up ! " We like ihat slang phrase. We like it because there is lots of soul in it. You never knew a mean, stingy, snivel-souled man to walk up to an afflicted neighbor, slap him on the shoulder and tell him to brace up. It is a big hearted, open-handed, whole souled fellow that comes along when you are cast down and squares off in front of you and tells you : ' ' That won' t do, old fellow, brace up ! " It is be that tells you a good story and makes you laugn in spite of yourself. He lifts the cur- tain that carkens your soul and lets in the cheer- ing sunlight. It is he that reminds you there never was a brilliant sunset without clouds. He may ncl tell you so in just such words, but he will make you *' brace up" and see the silver lining for yoursol:. Have you been tngaged in risky speculation, and just when you expected to gather in your golden gains, stocks fell and you found yourself bankrupt? Don't get discouraged, take to drink to drown your troubles, or commit any Dther rash act prompted by force of adverse cir- cumstances ; brace up ! You have gained wisdom trom v-jxpeiience, strength from the struggle, jrace u^i a.nd go ahead 1 There is no tome like this to restore the dop mant energies, no course of gymnastics equal to it for strengthening nerve and muscle; don't drug the system with patent nostrums, don't fool away time with dumb-bells, brace up! brace up! and health, strength and enthusiasm will urge you on to still greater achievements and to ultimate success. "Look up — not down! The mists that chill and blind thee Strive with pale wings to take a sunward flight ; Upward the green boughs reach ; the face of nature. Watchful and glad, is lifted to the light. The strength that saves comes never from th« ground But from the mountain-tops that shine around. Look forward, and not back ! Each lost endeavor May be a step upon thy chosen path; All that the past withheld, in larger m^^asure. Somewhere, in willing trust, the future hatb- Near and more near the ideal stoops to me^ The steadfast coming of unfaltering feet.** Brace up I Brace up I 20 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. THE FACE ON THE FLOOR. ^WAS a balmy summet evening, and a goodly crowd was there That well nigh filled Joe's barroom on the corner of the square, And as songs and witty stories came through the open door ; A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor. *' Where did it come from?** some one said; *'The wind has blown it in.'* "What does it want?" another cried, **Some whiskey, beer, or gin ? ' * *' Here, Toby, seek him, if your stomach's equal to the work, I wouldn't touch him with a ibrk, he's as filthy as a Turk." This badinage the poor wretch took, with stoical good grace, In fact, he smiled as if he thought he'd struck the proper place ; "Come, boys, I know there's kindly hearts among so good a crowd ; To be in such good <:ompany "'^uld make a deacon proud. "'Give me a drink! That's what I want, I'm out of funds, you know. When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow ; What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou ; I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you. ** There, thanks, that braced me nicely, God bless you, one and all, Next time I pass this good saloon I'll make another call ; Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past, My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out and my lungs are going fast. "Say, give me another whiskey an^ 1*11 tell you what I'll do — I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too; That I was ever a decent man, not one of yoi: would think. But I was, some four or five years back, say, give us another drink. ^ * Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame — > Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame ; Five fingers — there, that's the scheme — and cork- ing whiskey, too. Well, boys, here's luck, and landlord, my best regards to you. "You've treated me pretty kindly and I'd like vO tell you how I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now; As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health. And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth. " I was a painter — not one that daubed on brick| and wood, But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good; I worked hard at my canvas, and was bidding fair to rise ; For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes. "I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the Chase of Fame ; It brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name ; And then, I met a woman — no^w comes the funny part — With eyes that petrified my brain, and suDk into my heart. il PHOTO. Bf MORRISON, CHICAGO THK MASK REMOVED DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 21 "Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me ; But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smile was freely given ; <^nd when her loving lips touched mine, it carried my to heaven. ^*Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you'd give, With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live, With eyes that would beat the Kohinoor and a wealth of chestnut hair ? If so, '^was she, for there never was another half so fair. *'I was working on a portrait one afternoon in May, Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine who lived across the way. And Madeline admired it, and much to my surprise. Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes. *'It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown. My friend had stole my darling, and I was left alone ; And ere a year of misery had passed above my head. The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and was dead. *' That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile, I thought you'd be amused and laughing all the while ; Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a tear- drop in your eye. Come, laugh like me, 'tis only babes and women that should cry. *'Say, boys, if you'll give me another whiskey, I'll be glad. And I'll draw right here, the picture of the face that drove me mad ; Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the base-ball score — And you shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor. " Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vagabond began To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man. Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head. With a fearful shriek he leaped and fell across the picture — dead. H. Antoine D'Arcy. BRAVE KATE 5HELLEY. " How far that little candle throws its beams, So shines a good deed in a naughty world." HROUGH the whirl of wind and water, Parted by the rushing steel. Flashed the white glare of the headlight. Flew the swift revolving wheel, As the midnight train swept onward. Bearing on its iron wings. Through the gloom of night and tempest Freightage of most precious things. Little children by their mothers Nestle in unbroken rest. Stalwart men are dreaming softly Of their journey's finished quest. While the men who watch and guard them, Sleepless stand at post and brake ; Close the throttle ! draw the lever ! Safe for wife and sweetheart's sake. Sleep and dream, unheeding danger; In the valley yonder lies Death's debris in weird confusion, Altar fit for sacrifice ! 22 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. Dark anA grim the shadows settle Where the hidden perils wait; Swift the train, with dear lives laden. Rushes to its deadly fate. Still they sleep and dream unheeding. Oh, Thou watchful One above, Save Thy people in this hour ! Save the ransomed of Thy love ! Send an angel from Thy heaven Who shall calm the troubled air, And reveal the powers of evil Hidden in the darkness there. Saved ! ere yet they know their peril. Comes a warning to alarm ; Saved ! the precious train is resting On the brink of deadly harm, God has sent his angel to them,, Brave Kate Shelley, hero -child I Struggling on, alone, unaided. Through that night of tempest wild. Brave Kate Shelley ! tender maiden, Baby hands, with splinters torn. Saved the lives of sleeping travellers Swiftly to death's journey borne. Mothers wept and clasped their darlings. Breathing words of grateful prayer ; Men, with faces blanched and tearful. Thanked God for Kate Shelley there. Greater love than this hath no man. When the heavens shall unfold. And the judgment books are opened. There, in characters of gold. Brave Kate Shelley's name shall center, 'Mid the pure, the brave, the good, That of one who crowned with glory Her heroic womanhood. Mrs. M. L. Rayne. NATHAN HALE. PEED, speed thee forth," said Washing- ton, On Harlem's battle plain, '•For yonder lies the British foe. Bring back his plans of battle, Go!" The volunteer of twenty-one. Whose heart was never known to quail, Bowed — ^heard his orders, — ^bowed again, 'Twas Captain Nathan Hale. One night when shone the harvest moon. His boat shot thro' the spray. Blithely across the starlit sound To where upon Manhattan's ground The British were encamped, and soon The soldier-boy was on their trail — Captured their plans, — ''Now for the fray," Cried fearless Nathan Hale. But e'er his noble task was done Within the foeman's bounds, A yell came up from Briton throats, He saw their shining scarlet coats — ■ "What, ho! a spy from Washington," Ah, Heaven then was he doomed to fail; As round a hare spring famished hounds. They close round Nathan Hale. Condemned to death the hero lay With shackles on his limbs, And mem'ry brought New London town. His sweetheart with her curls of brown. His anxious mother old and gray, Alas, how will they hear the tale. A welcome tear the blue eye dims Of valiant Nathan Hale. They led him forth 'mid gibes and jeers To meet the patriot's fate. The solace of God's Holy Word He asked, but ne'er a Briton stirred, Their oaths still fell upon his ears. Their robber flag waved in the gale. Their eyes fired by revenge and hate Were fixed on Nathan Hale. DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 23 iike bloodhounds eager for his gore They cried out, *'Hang the spy." Undaunted there the hero stands. And Hfting up his shackled hands, The while his captors raved and swore, A flush came o'er his cheek so pale **Back, cowards, I'll show you how to die,** Cried noble Nathan Hale. **A hundred lives, ye knaves accurst I'd yield, and bliss were crowned. To bum that blood-stained ray o'erhead, And raise the Stars and Stripes instead. I*m ready now, fiends, do your worst, To Freedom's glorious dawn all hail I" The hangman's rope is thrown around The neck of Nathan Hale. Forgotten? ne'er while Freedom's Shine forth in deathless light. From out the flag he loved so well, For which he lived ana iought and fell. His guerdon was the soldier's scars. And death, far from his native vale — Brave heart, that throbbed for love and rightj Brave soldier, Nathan Hale. Eugene Geary. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. [The most ample opportunity is here afforded for the practice of the aspirated and pectoral voices.} OME dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural, and full of contradiction ; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are something more than fiction It might be only on enchanted ground. It might be merely by a thought's expansion. But in the spirit or the flesh, I found An old deserted mansion. A residence for woman, child, and man, A dwelling-place and yet no habitation, A house — ^but under some prodigious ban Of excommunication. No dog was at the threshold, great or small, No pigeon on the roof, no household creature — No cat demurely dozing on the wall — Not one domestic feature. No human figure stirred to go or come ; No face looked forth from shut or open case- ment ; No chimney smoked — there was no sign of home From parapet to basement. O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said as plain as whisper in the ear— The place is haunted. No sound was heard except from far away The ringing of the whitwall's shrilly laughter^ Or now and then the chatter of the jay. That Echo murmured after. The beds were all untouched by "hand or tool; No footsteps marked the green and mossy gravel, Each walk as green as is the mantled pool For want of human travel. Over all there hung a shadow and a fear; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said as plain as whisper in the ear — The place is haunted. The fountain was a-dry; neglect and time Had marred the work of artisan and mason. And efts and croaking frogs begot of slime Sprawled in the ruined basin. ; \ On every side the aspect was the same. All ruined, desolate, forlorn and savage; No hand or foot within the precinct came To rectify the ravage. For over all there hung a shadow and a fear; A sense of mysterv the spirit daunted, 24 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. And said as plain as whisper in the ear— The place is haunted. Howbeit, the door I pushed — or so I dreamed — Which slowly, slowly gaped ; the hinges creaking With such a rusty eloquence, it seemed That Time himself was speaking. The startled bats flew out ; bird after bird ; The screech-owl overhead began to flutter, And seemed to mock the cry that she had h*^-ard Some dying victim utter! The very stairs and pictures on the wall, Assuming features horrid and terrific. Hinted some tragedy in that old hall. Locked up in hieroglyphic. For over all there hung a shadow and a fear; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted. And said as plain as whisper in the ear — The place is haunted. Huge drops rolled down the wall as if they wept ; And where the cricket used to chirp so shrilly The toad was squatting and the lizard crept On that damp hearth so chilly. There was so foul a rumor in the air, The shadow of a presence so atrocious. No human creature could have feasted there, Even the most ferocious. For over all there hung a shadow and a rearj A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said as plain as whisper in the ear — The place is haunted. The death-watch ticked behind the paneled oak. Inexplicable tremors shook the arras. And echoes strange and mystical awoke The fancy to embarrass. Prophetic hints that filled the sou2 with dread. But through one gloomy entrance mostly, The while some secret inspiration said — That chamber is the ghostly ! One lonely ray that glanced upon the bed As if with awful aim, direct and certain. To show the Bloody Hand in burning red, Embroidered on the curtain ! What shrieking spirit in that bloody room Its mortal frame had violently quitted! Across the sunbeam with a sudden gloom A ghostly shadow flitted. O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said as plain as whisper in the ear— The place is haunted ! Tho]vla.s Hood. OVER THE CROSSIN'. HINE? — shine, sor? Ye see I'm just a dyin' Ter turn yer two boots inter glass, Where ye '11 see all the sights in the winders 'Ithout lookin' up as yer pass — Seen me before? I've no doubt, sor; I'm punctooal haar, yer know, Waitin' along the crossin' Fur a little un, name o' Joe ; My brother, sor, an' a cute un, Ba'ly turned seven, an' small. But ge',':'-^' his livin' grad'ely Tena*i4 ^ bU uv a stall Fur Millerkins, down the ev'nue, Yer kin t^c that young un's smart—* Worked right in like a vet 'run Since th' old un gin 'im a start. ** Folks say he's a picter o' father, Once mate o' the Lucy Lee — Lost when Joe wor a baby. Way off in some furrin sea. Then mother kep' us together. Though nobv->dy thought she would. An' worked an' slaved an' froze an' starved yz lon^ uz ever she couJ4^ DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 25 An' since she died an' left us, A couple o' year ago, We've kep' right on in Cragg alley A housekeepin' — I an' Joe. I'd just got my kit when she went, sor, An' people helped us a bit. So we managed to get on somehow; Joe wus alius a brave little chit — An' since he's got inter bisness. Though we don't ape princes an' sich, 'Taint of'n we git right hungry. An' we feel pretty tol'able rich. "I used to wait at the comer, Jest over th' other side. But the notion o' bein' tended Sort o' ruffled the youngster's pride. So now I only watches To see that he's safe across — Sometimes it's a bit o' waitin', But, bless yer, 'tain't no loss! Look ! there he is now, the rascal ! Dodgin' across the street, Ter s'prise me — an' — look! I'm goin' — He's down by the horses' feet ! " Suddenly all had happened — The look, the cry, the spring, The shielding Joe as a bird shields Its young with sheltering wing ; Then up the full street of the city A pause of the coming rush. And through all the din and the tumult A painful minute of hush ; A tumble of scattered brushes. As they lifted him up to the walk, A gath'ring of curious faces. And snatches of whispered talk; Little Joe all trembling beside him On the flagging, with gentle grace Pushing the tangled, soft brown hair Away from the still, white face. At his touch the shut lids lifted, And swift over lip and eye Came a glow as when the morning Flushes the eastern sky; And a hand reached out to his brother. As the words came low but clear: '* Joe, I reckon ye mind our mother — A minute back she wor here, Smilin' an' callin' me to her ! I tell ye, I'm powerful glad Yer such a brave, smart youngster. The leavin' yer ain't so bad; Hold hard to the right things she learnt us, An' alius keep honest an' true ; Good-by, Joe — ^but mind, I'll be watchin* Just — over — the crossin' — fur you ! '* DONT BE IN A HURRY. ^ON'T be in a hurry to answer yes or no; Nothing's lost by being reasonably slow. In a hasty moment you may give consent, And through years of torment leisurely repent. If a lover seeks you to become his wife. Happiness or misery may be yours for life : Don't be in a hurry your feelings to confess. But think the matter over before you answer yes. Should one ask forgiveness for a grave offence, Honest tears betraying earnest penitence. Pity and console him and his fears allay, A4id don't be in a hurry to drive the child away. Hurry brings us worry; worry wears us out, Easy going people know what they're about, Heedless haste will bring us surely to the ditch. And trouble overwhelm us if we hurry to be rich. Don't be in a hurry to throw yourself away; By the side of wisdom for a wild delay, Make your life worth living ; noblyact your Dart; And don't be in a hurry to spoil it at the start. Don't be in a hurry to speak an angry word; Don't be in ahurry to spread the tale you've heard. Don't be in a hurry with evil ones to go; And don't be in a hxyvry to answer yes cr qq. 26 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. DON'T. BELIEVE, if there is one word that grown- up folks are more fond of using to us little folks, than any other word in the big dic- tionary, it is the word d-o-n-t. It is all the time ^^ Don't do this," and ''Don't do that," and •''Don't do the other," until I am sometimes afraid there will be nothing left that we can do. Why, for years and years and years, ever since I was a tiny little tot, this word "Don't'' has been my torment. It's "Lizzie, don't make a noise, you disturb me," and "Lizzie, don't eat so much candy, it will make you sick," and "Lizzie, don't be so idle," and "Don't talk so much," and "don't soil your clothes," and "Don't everything else." One day I thought I'd count how many times I was told not to do things .' Just think ! I counted twenty-three "don'ts," and I think I missed two or three little ones besides. But now it is my turn, I have got a chance to talk, and I'm going to tell some of the big people when to Don't ! That ih what my piece is about. First, I shall tell the papas and mam- mas — Don't scold the children, just because you have been at a party the night before, and so feel cross and tired. Second, Don't fret and make wrinkles in your faces, over things that cannot be helped. I think fretting spoils big folks just as much as it does us little people. Third, Don't forget where you put your scissors, and then say you s'pose the children have taken them. Oh ! I could tell you ever so many "don'ts," but I think I 11 only say one more, and that is — Don't think I mean to be saucy, because all these don'ts are in my piece, and I had to say them. I could say a good many more if I were not so bashful. E. C. Rook. THE TELEGRAM. [Imitate the child's voice reciting.] C( S THIS the tel'graph office?" Asked a childish voice one day. As I noted the click of my instrument With its message from far away. A-s it ceased I turned; at my elbow Stood the merest scrap of a boy, Whose childish face was all aglow With the light of a hidden joy. The golden curls on his forehead Shaded eyes of the deepest blue. As if a bit of the summer sky Had lost in them its hue. They scanned my office rapidly From ceiling down to floor. They turned on mine their eager gaze, And he asked the question o'er. "Is this the tel'graph office?" "It is, my little man," I said, "pray tell me what you want And I'll help you if I can." Then the blue eyes grew more eager. And the breath came thick and fast, And I saw within the chubby hands A folded paper grasped. "Nurse told me," he said, "that the lightning Came down on the wires, some day; And my mamma has gone to heaven. And I'm lonely since she is away. For my papa is very busy And hasn't much time for me. So I fought I'd write her a letter, And I've brought it for you to see. "I've printed it big, so the angels Could read out quick the name, And carry it straight to my mamma And tell her how it came; DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 27 And now^ vvon't you please to take it And frow it up good and strong Against the wires in a funder shower? And the lightning will take it along.*' Ah! What could I tell the darling? For my eyes were filling fast; I turned away to hide the tears, But I cheerfully spoke at last. "I'll do the best I can, my child," *Twas all that I could say; "Fank you," he said, then scanned the sky, "Do you fink it will funder to-day?" But the blue sky smiled in answer, And the sun shone dazzling bright. And his face, as he slowly turned away. Lost some of its gladsome light. "But nurse," he said, **if I stay so long Won't let me come any more; So good-bye, I'll come and see you again Right after a funder shower. ' ' CROSSING THE CARRY. [Scene.— The Adirondacks during a shower. A tAeasure-seeker and his guide on the road.] TOHN," said I, as we stood looking at ^ • /r>l each other across the boat, **this rain @ is wet." ''It generally is, up in this region^ I believe," he responded, as he wiped the water out of hi^ eyes with the back of his hand, and shook tne accumulating drops from nose and chin; "but the waterproof I have on has lasted me some thirty-eight years, and I don't think it will wet 'hrough to-day." "Well!" I exclaimed, "there is no use of standing here in this marsh-grass any longer; help me to load up. I'll take the baggage, and you the boat." "You'll never get through with it, if you try to take it all at once. Better load light and I'll come back after what's left," was thj answer. "I tell you," he continued, "the swamp is full of water, and soft as muck. ' ' "John," said I, "that baggage is going over at one load, sink or swim, Kve or die, survive or perish. I'll make the attempt, swamp or no swamp. My life is assured against accidents by fire, water, and mud ; so here goes. What's life to glory ! " I exclaimed, as I seized the V pork -bag, and dragged it from under the boat ; "stand by and see me put my armor on." Over my back I slung the provision basket, made like a fisherman's creel, thirty inches by forty, filled with plates, coffee, salt, and all the impedimenta of camp and cooking utensils. This was held in its place by straps passing over the shoulders and under the arms, Hke a Jew-ped- dler's pack. There might have been eighty pounds' weight in it. Upon the top of the basket, John jashed my knapsack, full of bullets, pow- der, and clothing. My rubber suit and heavy blanket, slung around my neck by a leathei thong, hung down in front across my chest- On one shoulder the oars and paddles were balanced, with a frying pan and gridiron swing ing from the blades, on the other was my rifle, from which were suspended a pair of boots, m) creel, a coffee-pot, and a bag of flour. Taking up the bag of pork in one hand, and seizing the stock of the rifle with the other, from two fingers of which hung a tin kettle of prepared trout, which we were loth to throw away, I started Picture a man so loaded, forcing his way through a hemlock swamp, through whose floor of thin moss he sank to his knees; or picking his way across oozy sloughs on old roots, often covered with mud and water, and slippery beyond description, and you have me daguerreotyped in your mind. Well, as I said, I started. For some dozen rods I got on famously, and was congratulating myself with the thought of an easy transit, when a root upon which I had put my right foot gave way, and, plunging head- long into the mud, I struck an attitute of peti tion; while the frying-pan and gridiron, flung off the oars and, forward by the movement. 2S DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. alighted upon my prostrated head. An ejacula- tion, not exactly religious, escaped me, and with a few desperate flounces I assumed once more the perpendicular. Fishing the frying-pan from the mud, and lashing the gridiron to my belt, I made another start. It was hard work. The most unnatural adjustment of weight upon my back made it difficult to ascertain just how far behind me lay the center of equilibrium. I found where it did not lie several times. Before I had gone fifty rods the camp-basket weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. The pork- bag felt as if it had several shoats in it, and the oar-blades stuck out in the exact form of '^n X. If I went one side of a tree, the oars would go the other side. If I backed up, they would manage to get entangled amid the brush. If I Stumbled and fell, the confounded things would come like a goose-yoke athwart my neck, pinning me down. As I proceeded, the mud grew deeper, the roots farther apart, and the blazed trees less frequent. Never before did I so truly realize the aspiration of the old hymn, — " O, had I the wings of a dove ! »* At last I reached what seemed impossible to pass, — ^an oozy slough, crossed here and there by cedar roots, smooth and slippery^ lay before me. From a high stump which I had climbed upon I gave a desperate leap. I struck where I expected, and a little farther. The weight of the basket, which was now something over two hundred pounds, was too much for me to check at once. It pressed me forward. I recovered myself, and the abominable oars carried me as far the other way. The moccasins of wet leather began to slip along the roots. They began to slip very often and at bad times. I found it necessary to change my position suddenly. I changed it. It wasn't a perfect success. I tried again. It seemed necessary to keep on trying. I suspect I did not effect the changes very steadily, for the trout began to jump about in the pail and Ily out into the mud. The gridiron got uneasy, and played against my side like a Steam-flapper. In fact, the whole baggage seemed endowed with supemattiral powea of motion. The excitement was contagious. In a moment, every article was jumping about like mad. I, in the meantime continued to dance a hornpipe on the slippery roots. Now, I am conscientiously opposed to dancing. I never danced. I didn't want to learn. I felt it was wicked for me to be hopping around on that root so. What an example, I thought, if John should see me. What would my wife say ? What would my deacons say ? I tried to stop. I couldn't. I had an astonishing dislike to sit down. I thought I would dance there forever, rather than sit down, — deacons or no deacons. The basket now weighed any imaginable number of pounds. The trout were leaping about my head, as if in their native element. The gridiron was in such rapid motion that it was impossible to distinguish the bars. There was, apparently, a whole litter of pigs in the pork- bag. I could not stand it longer. I concluded to rest awhile, I wanted to do the thing grace- fully. I looked around for a soft spot, and seeing one just behind me, I checked myself. My feet flew out from under me. They appeared to DC unusually light. I don't remember that I ever sat down quicker. The motion was very decided. The only difficulty I observed was, that the seat I had gracefully settled into had no bottom. The position of things was extremely pictur- esque. The oars were astride my neck, as usual. The trout-pail was bottom up, and the contents lying about almost anywhere. The boots were^ hanging on a dry limb overhead. A capital idea. , I thought of it as I was in the act of sitting down. One piece of pork lay at my feet, and another was sticking up, some ten feet off in the mud. It looked very queer, — slightly out of place. With the same motion with which I hung my boots on a limb, as 1 seated myself, I stuck my rifle carefully into the mud, muzzle downward. I never saw a gun in that position before. It struck me as being a good thing. There was no danger of its falling over and breaking the stock. PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO RECITAL WITH HARP ACCOMPANIMENT DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 29 The fiist thing I did was to pass the gridiron under me. When that feat had been accom- plished, I felt more composed. It's pleasant for a man in the position I was in to feel that he has something under him. Even a chip or a small stump would have felt comfortable. As I sat thinking how many uses a gridiron could be put to, and estimating where I should then have been if I hadn't got it under me, I heard John forcing his way with the boat on his back, through the thick undergrowth. *'It won't do to let John see me in this posi- tion," I said; and so, with a mighty effort, I disengaged myself from the pack, flung off the blanket from around my neck, and seizing hold of a spruce limb, which I could fortunately reach, drew myself slowly up. I had just time to jerk the rifle out of the mud, and fish up about half of the trout, when John came struggling along. '*John," said I, leaning unconcernedly against a tree, as if nothing had happened, — ^^^John, put down the boat, here's a splendid spot to rest." '*Well, Mr. Murray," queried John, as he emerged from under the boat, '*how ar^ you getting along ? " ** Capitally?" said I; ''the carry is very level when you once get down to it. J felt a little out of breath, and thought I would wait for you a few moments. ' ' ''What's your boots doing up there in that tree?" exclaimed John, as he pointed up to where they hung dangling from the limb, about fifteen feet above our heads. "Boots doing! " &aid I, "why, they are hang- ing there, don't you see? You didn't suppose I'd drop them into this mud, did you?" "Why, noj" replied John, "I don't suppose you would, but how about this ? ' ' continued he, AS he stooped down and pulled a big trout, tail foremost, out of the soft muck; "how did that trout come there ? " "It must have got out of the pail somehow," I responded. "I thought I heard something drop just as I sat down. ' ' "What in thunder is that, out there?" ex« claimed John, pointing to a piece of pork, one end of which was sticking about four inches out of the water ; "is that pork ? ' ' "Well, the fact is, John," returned I, speak- ing with the utmost gravity, and in a tone in- tended to suggest a mystery, — the fact is, John, I don't quite understand it. This carry seems to be all covered over with pork. I wouldn't be surprised to find a piece anywhere. There is another junk now," I exclaimed, as I plunged my moccasin into the mud ana kicked a two- pound bit toward him; "it's lying all round here "^oose. " I thought John would split with laughter, but my time came, for as in one of his paroxysms he turned partly around, I saw that his back was covered with mud clear up to his hat. "Do you always sit down on your coat, John, ' * I inquired, "when you cross a carry like this?" "Come, come," rejoined he, ceasing to laugh from very exhaustion, "take a knife or tin plate, and scrape the muck from my back. I always tell my wife to make my clothes ? ground coJor, but the color is laid on a 2ittlc too ^hick this time, any way. ' ' "John," said I, after having scraped him down, "take the paddle and spear my boots off from that limb up there, while I tread out this pork." Weary and hot, we reached at length the margin of the swamp, and our feet stood once more upon solid ground. W. H. H. Murray. TO THOSE WHO FAIL ©OURAGE, brave heart, nor in thy purpose falter; Go on and win the fight at any cost, Though sick and weary after conflict. Rejoice to know the battle is not lost. The. field is open still to those brave spirits Who nobly struggle till the strife is done. Through sun and storm with courage all un- daunted Working and waiting till the battlers won. BO DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. The fairest pearls are found in deepest waters, The brightest jewels in the darkest mine ; And through the very blackest hour of midnight The star of Hope doth ever brightly shine. Press on ! press on ! the path is steep and rugged, The storm clouds almost hide Hope's light from view; But you can pass where other feet have trodden;— A few more steps may bring you safely through The battle o'er, a victor crowned with honors,— By patient toil each difficulty past, You then may see these days of bitter failure But spurred you on to greater deeds at last Nellie Barlow. NIAGARA. jONARCH of floods! How shall I ap- proach thee? — ^how speak of thy glory? — how extol thy beauty and grandeur ? Ages have seen thy awful majesty; earth has paid tribute to thy greatness; the best and wisest among men have bent the knee at thy footstool ! but none have described — none can describe thee ! Alone thou standest among the wonders of Nature, unshaken by the shock of contending elements, flinging back the flash of the lightning, and outroaring the thunder of Che tempest! Allied to the everlasting hills, — claiming kin- dred with the eternal flood, thou art pillared upon the one, the other supplies thy surge. Primeval rocks environ, clouds cover, and the rainbow crowns thee. A divine sublimity rests on thy fearful brow, an awful beauty is revealed in thy terrific countenance, the earth is shakeu by thy tremendous voice. Born in the dark past and alive to the distant future, what to the^ are the paltry concerns of man's ambitions? — the rise and fall of empires and dynasties, the contests of kings or the crash of thrones? Thou art unmoved by the fate ol nations, and the revolutions of the earth are tc thee but the pulses of time. Kings before thee are but men, and man, a type of insignificance. *'Thou dost make the soul A wondering witness of thy majesty; And while it rushes with delirious joy To tread thy vestibule, dost chain its steps And check its rapture, with the humbling vie\? Of its own nothingnessr ' ' KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GRAY. ^"WO brown heaas with tossing curls. Red hps shutting over pearls. Bare feet, white and wet with dew. Two eyes black and two eyes blue — Little boy and girl were they Katie Lee and Willie Gray. They were standing where a brook, Bending like a shepherd's crook. Flashed its silver, and thick ranks Of willow fringed its mossy banks — Half in thought and half in play, Katie Lee and Willie Gray. They had cheeks like cherry red. He was taller, 'most a head; She with arms like wreaths of snow Swung a basket to and fro, As they loitered, half in play, Katie Lee and Willie Gray. "Pretty Katie," WilHe said. And there came a dash of red Through the brownness of the cheek, "Boys are strong and girls are weak. And I'll carry, so I will, Katie's basket up the hill." Katie answered with a laugh, "You shall only carry half;" Then said, tossing back her curls, *'Boys are weak as well as girls." DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. S:^ Do you think that Katie guessed Half the wisdom she expressed? Men are only boys grown tall; Hearts don't change much, after all; And when, long years from that day, Katie Lee and Willie Gray Stood again beside the brook Bending like a shepherd's crook — Is it strange that Willie said. While again a dash of red Crowned the brownness of his cheek, I am strong and you are weak; Life is but a slippery steep. Hung with shadows cold and deep. **Will you trust me, Katie dear? Walk beside me without fear? May I carry, if I will, All your burdens up the hill?" And she answered, with a laugh, **No, but you may carry half.** Close beside the little brook Bending like a shepherd's crook. Working with its silver hands Late and early at the sands, Stands a cottage, where, to-day, Katie lives with Willie Gray. In the porch she sits, and lo ! Swinging a basket to and fro. Vastly different from the one That she swung in years agone; This is long, and deep, and wide. And has rockers at the side. MY MOTHER. ^HE feast was o'er. Now brimming wine. In lordly cup, was seen to shine Before each eager guest ; And silence filled the crowded hall As deep as when the herald's call Thrills in the loyal breast. Then up arose the noble host And, smiling cried : *'A toast! a toast! To all our ladies fair; Here, before all, I pledge the name Of Stanton's proud and beauteous dame, The Lady Gundamere." Quick to his feet each gallant sprang And joyous was the shout that rang As Stanley gave the word; And every cup was raised on high, Nor ceased the loud and gladsome cry Till Stanley's voice was heard. "Enough, enough," he, smiling, said, And lowly bent his haughty head ; "That all may have their due. Now each, in turn, must play his part And pledge the lady of his heart, Like a gallant knight and true." Then, one by one, each guest sprang u^ And drained in turn the brimming cup And named the loved one's name; And each, as hand on high he raised, His lady's grace and beauty praised. Her constancy and fame. *Tis now St. Leon's turn to rise; On him are fixed these countless eyes; . A gallant knight is he; Envied by some, admired by all. Far famed in lady's bower and hall, The flower of chivalry. St. Leon raised his kindling eye, And held the sparkling cup on high, "I drink to one," he said, "Whose image never may depart. Deep graven on this grateful heart Till memory be dead ; To one whose love for me shall last When lighter passions long have past. 32 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. So deep it is, and pure; Whose love hath longer dwelt, I ween, Than any yet that pledged hath been By these brave knights before.'* Each guest up started at the word And laid a hand upon his sword With fury-flashing eye; And Stanley said: "We crave the name. Proud knight, of this most peerless dame, Whose love you count so high." St. Leon paused, as if he would Not breathe her name in careless mood Thus lightly to another; Then bent his noble head, as though To give that word the reverence due, And gently said, **My mother." Sir Walter Scott. WHICH LOVED BEST. a LOVE you, mother," said little Ben, Then forgetting his work, his cap went on. And he was off to the garden swing, And left her the water and wood to bring. **I love you, mother," said rosy Nell — ^ * I love you better than tongue can tell ; ' ' Then she teased and pouted full half the day, Till her mother rejoiced when she went to play. *'I love you, mother," said little Fan, "To-day I'll help you all I can; How glad I am school doesn't keep ; " So she rocked the babe till it fell asleep. Then, stepping softly, she fetched the broom, And swept the floor and tidied the room ; Busy and happy all day was she. Helpful and happy as child could be. "I love you, mother," again they said Three little children going to bed; How do you think that mother guessed Which of them really loved her best ? THE BEST SEWING-MACHINE. 'OT one? Don't say so! you get? One of the kind to open and shut? Ovm it or hire it? How much did you pay? Does it go with a crank or a treadle? S-a-y. I'm a single man, and somewhat green; Tell me about your sewing-machine. ' * *' listeij, my boy, and hear all about it: I don't know what I could do without it; I've owned one now for more than a year, And like it so well that I call it *my dear;* 'Tis the cleverest thing that ever was seen, This wonderful family sewing-machine. "It's none of your angular Wheeler things. With steel-snod back and cast-iron "Wings; Its work would bother a hundred of his, And worth a thousand ! Indeed it is; Which Cid And has a way — you need not stare — Of combing and braiding its own back hair! "Mine is not one of those stupid affairs That stands in a comer with what-nots and chairs. And makes that dismal, neadachy noise Which all the comfort of sewing destroys; No rigid contrivance of lumber and steel, But one with a natural spring in the heel. "Mine is one of the kind to love. And wears a shawl and a soft kid glove ; Has the merriest eyes and the daintiest foot, And sports the charmingest gaiter-boot, Andabonnet with feathers, and ribbons, and k)op^ With any indefinite number of hoops. "None of your patent nmchines for me. Unless Dame Nature's the patentee; DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 33 like the sort that can laugh and talk, And take my arm for an evening walk; That will do whatever the owner may choose. With the slightest perceptible turn of the screws; 'One that can dance, and — possibly — flirt; A.nd make a pudding as well as a shirt; One that can sing without dropping a stitch. And play the housewife, lady, or witch; Ready to give the sagest advice. Or to do up your collars and things so nice. '* What do you think of my machine? A' n't it the best that ever was seen? 'Tisn't a clumsy, mechanical toy. But flesh and blood ! Hear that, my looy"? With a turn for gossip, and household affairs, Which include, you know, the sewing of tears. "Tut, tut, don't talk. I see it all— You needn't keep winking so hard at the waJ* I know what your fidgety fumblings mean; You would like, yourself a sewing-machine I Well, get one, then, — of the same design, — There were plent]- left where I got mine I" ••KILLEDl ■'^ TLLEDat " What matters where? He is dead, and that is enough ! ' ' Killed ! " It is written there In letters that stare and stare ! What though the telling may be rough? He is dead, and that is enough! "Died with his face to the foe. Trying another to save ! ' ' How else, how else should he die? I could not have loved him so If he had not been bravest of brave I Dead, and no word of gocd-bye I No whisper of love from afarl star ! star ! star ! 1 looked in your eyes last night. And I saw his eyes in your light; And I knew, I knew he would die. For that was his last good-bye ! Get you gone ! Get you gone from my sighl Why do you stand and stare? He is dead ! It is written there 1 And it's late — so late to-night! There ! there ! forgive me, but go I You mean to be kind, I know, But leave me to God and to him! "Killed, with his face to^the foe!** Leave me awhile ! The light — The light — is — getting — dim ! — Leave me — to God — ^and — to him!— George Wbatherlv. THE THREE BELLS. (This poem refers to the well-known rescue of the crew of an American vessel, sinking in mid-ocean, by Captain I*e?!^htoii f the English ship Three B.ells. Unable to take them oflf, in the night and the storm, he stayed by them until morning, ^out ig to them from time to time through his trumpet, '* Never fear, hold on, I'll stand by you."] ENEATH the low-hung night cloud That raked her splintering mast, The good ship settled slowly. The cruel leak gained fast. Over the awful ocean Her signal guns pealed out; Dear God ! was that thy answer, From the horror round about? A voice came down the wild wind,— ** Ho ! ship ahoy ! " its cry : **Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow Shall stand till daylight by!" Hour after hour crept slowly. Yet on the heaving swells Tossed up and down the ship-lightSv The lights of the Three Bells. DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS, And ship to ship made signals; Man answered back to man; While oft, to cheer and hearten. The Three Bells nearer ran. And the captain from her taffrail Sent down his hopeful cry : "Take heart ! hold on ! " he shouted, **The Three Bells shall stand by ! '* All night across the waters The tossing lights shone clear; All night from reeling taffrail The Three Bells sent her cheer. And when the dreary watches Of storm and darkness passed, Just as the wreck lurched under, All souls were saved at last. Sail on, Three Bells, forever, In grateful memory sail ! Ring on. Three Bells of rescue. Above the wave and gale ! As thine, in night and tempest, I hear the Master's cry. And, tossing through the darkness. The lights of God draw nigh. John G. Whittier, 1 PITCHER OR JUG. ■ HEY toiled together side by side. In the field where the corn was growing; They paused awhile to quench their thirst. Grown weary with the hoeing. *'I fear, my friend," I said to one. That you will ne'er be richer; You drink, I see, from the little brown jug, Whilst your friend drinks from the pitcher. *'One is filled with alcohol. The fiery drink from the still ; The other with water clear and cool From the spring at the foot of the hill. "In all of life's best gifts, my friend, I fear you will ne'er be richer. Unless you leave the little brown jug. And drink, like your friend, from the pitchej My words have proved a prophecy. For years have passed away ; How do you think have fared our friends. That toiled in the fields that day? One is a reeling, drun'fecn sot. Grown poorer instead of richer ; The other has won both wealth and fame. And he always drank from the pitcher. M. P. CHiCif GUILD'S SIGNAL. »W0 low whistles, quaint and clear. That was the signal of the engineer- That was the signal that Guild, 'tis said — Gave to his wife at Providence, As through the sleeping town, and thence Out in the night. On to the Hght, Down past the farms, lying white, he sped ! As a husband's greeting, scant, no doubt, Yet to the woman looking out. Watching and waiting, no serenade. Love-song, or midnight roundelay. Said what that whistle seemed to say: *'To my trust true. So love to you ! Working or waiting, good night! " it said. Brisk young bagmen, tourists fine. Old commuters along the line, Brakemen and porters glanced ahead. Smiled as the signal, sharp, intense. DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. 35 Kerced through the shadows of Providence — '* Nothing amiss — Nothing ! — It is Only Guild calling his wife, ' ' they said. Summer and winter, the old refrain Rang o'er the billows of ripening grain, Pierced through the budding boughs o'erhead. Flew down the track when the red sheaves burned Like living coals from the engine spurned; Sang as it flew: '*To our trust true. First of all duty ! Good night ! " it said. And then, one night, it was heard no more From Stonington over Rhode Island shore; And the folk in Providence smiled and said, As they turned in their beds, *'The engineer Has once forgotten his midnight cheer. ' ' One only knew. To his trust true. Guild lay under his engine, dead. Bret Harte. LITTLE CHRISTEL. FRAULEIN, the young schoolmistress, to her pupils said one day, **Next week, at Pfingster holiday. King Ludwig rides this way ; And you will be wise, my little ones, to work with a will at your tasks. That so you may answer fearlessly whatever question he asks. It would be a shame too dreadful if the King should have it to tell That Hansel missed in his figures, and Peterkin could not spell." "Oho ! that never shall happen," cried Hansel and Peterkin too; "We'll show King Ludwig, when he comes, what the boys in this school can do." "And we, ' ' said Gretchen and Bertha, and all the fair little maids Who stood in a row before her, with their hair in flaxen braids, ^ "We will pay such good attention to every word you say That }^ou shall not be ashamed of us when King Ludwig rides this way. ' ' She smiled, the young schoolmistress, to see that they loved her so, ^d with patient care she taught them the things it was good to know. l)ay after day she drilled them till the great day came at last. When the heralds going before him blew out their sounding blast ; And with music, and flying "banners, and the clatter of horses' feet. The King and his troops of soldiers rode dowq the village street Oh ! the hearts of the eager children beat fast with joy and fear. And Fraulein trembled and grew pale as the cavalcade drew near ; But she blushed with pride and pleasure vvhen the lessons came to be heard. For in all the flock of the boys and girls not one of them missed a word. And King Ludwig turned to the teacher with a smile and a gracious look ; **It is plain," said he, ''that your scholars have carefully conned their book. "But now let us ask some questions, to see if they understand : ' ' And he showed to one of the little maids an orange in his hand. It was Christel, the youngest sister of the mis. tress fair and kind — A child with a face like a lily, and as lovely and pure a mind. "What kingdom does this belong to?" as he called her to his knee ; And at once — "The vegetable," she answered quietly. 36 DESCRIPTIVE RECITATIONS. *'Good," said the monarch, kindly, and showed her a piece of gold ; '