»** * >tA» *u *» A * A ^»>w WW M -- •-^i.^>*> *A,*#**AuiXt*£i»£i*x tL0CuT10N^ D AC4l0M F.TOWNSENO SOUTHWiCK is I I M c? \l Pass F N ^ i i j Book. ^SS: CopyrightT^ _ ml COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. ELOCUTION AND ACTION By F\ TOWNSEND SOUTHWICK Original Illustrations FOURTH EDITION— REVISED AND ENLARGED NEW YORK Edgar S. Werner Publishing & Supply Co. (Incorporated) Copyright 1S90, :894 > is&3» by Edgar S. Werner All rights reserved. THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Two Copies Received WAR 26 1903 Copyright Entry 3LASS A- XXc. No. COPY. B. TM let it go from front to side, then back, then to the other side, and finally return to the front, — making the movement continu- ous but with the muscles as passive as possible. Exekcise IY. For Flexibility of the Legs. (a) Stand with one foot on the edge of a platform or low bench, so that the free leg hangs over the edge. Be careful to keep well poised. Let the free leg hang until you feel all the muscles about the hij) relax and the limb be- comes a dead weight. Be sure that the knee and foot also are en- tirely passive. The body should be erect upon the strong foot in a position like that of Eespect, so that the fig. 7. hip may be as far as possible over the free side in order to give plenty of room for the free leg. FLEXIBILITY. 55 (b) Standing as before, lift the free leg in front, with the knee and foot still relaxed, and then allow it to fall back lifelessly. If the muscles of the free leg are per- fectly flexible, the leg will swing back and forth for a considerable time, like a pendulum. Let it come to rest of its own accord. If this exercise is too difficult at first, practise lift- ing and dropping the leg while standing on the floor. Of course, the leg cannot swing to and fro but must come to rest at once. Here the poise of the body should be as in the Speaker's Position. The Vowels. — Continued. 3. A, as in ale. This vowel has one peculiarity that deserves attention. If we speak 2 word like pay or may, we notice that the final sound is not that of a at all, but exactly that of long e, iiius, pde, mde. You would find it difficult to pronounce either of these words and omit this vanishing sound or "glide," as it is sometimes called. The vanish or glide of the vowel d is one characteristic of a refined pronunciation. Before the vowel e, however, the vanish vanishes en- tirely, e.g. t d-erial. Be careful not to overdo this pe- culiarity ; on the other hand, do not clijD the vowel so short that the effect of the glide is lost. 4. Aa before r, as in care, fair, air ; also heard in where, ne'er, Aaron, wear, and similar words. 5. E, short, as in ell, sell, tell ; also many, bury, said, ^opard, guess. 56 FOURTEENTH LESSON. 6. A, short, as in an, can, fan ; also plaid, raillery, etc. Notice that we are studying the sounds not merely the letters, and that in English one letter has often many very different sounds, and one sound is often represented in many different ways. E, for instance, is exactly like i yd. fatigue, ua in quay, ei in deceive, eo in people. I is heard in pretty, ivomen, guinea, forfeit. A is heard in gauge, vein, obey. For that reason, we find it most convenient to call the sounds by their numbers rather than by their alphabetical names, thus, 1st or 2d sound, etc. To the Teacher: — These sounds follow each other in the order laid down by Prof. A. Melville Bell. From him I have also taken many of the illustrations. While no one pupil is deficient in all or many of these sounds, I have rarely found in my own experience a pupil who was perfect in every vowel. We have the testimony of no less a celebrity than Wendell Phillips to the practical value of careful drill in the elements of articulation. Occasional mistakes may be forgiven ; but habitual disregard of the fundamentals of good pronunciation is inexcusable. 1 have not attempted to ar- range the sounds in the order of their difficulty for the reason that no arrangement could be made that would answer for all or even a majority of our pupils. Special exercises should be assigned to individuals who are greatly deficient. Such may be found in the works of Bell, Monroe, and others, and in various treatises on voice- culture, stammering, etc. LESSON XV. Emphasis.— Conxinned. RULES FOR ANALYSIS. I. — T he emphatic word is the word that completes the new idea or picture. EXAMPLES. I watch the mowers ns they go. Henceforth let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. — Shakespeare. [Mortimer lias already been spoken of in several preceding speeches (Henry IV., part 1.), otherwise the emphasis would fall on the name. See next rule.] The clustered spires of Frederick stand. — Whit tier. II. — A word once emphasized should not receive emphasis when repeated, unless it is repeated for intensity, or used with a new meaning - . EXAMPLES. That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true ; true, I have married her, [not " true I have married her," — the new idea is " married."] 58 FIFTEENTH LESSON. Marhllus. But what trade art thou ? Answer me [straightforwardly.] 2d Citizen. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe con- science ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of had soles. Marulltjs. What trade, thou knave? [emphasis for intensity.] thou naughty knave, what trade ? 2d Citizen. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me ;yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you. — Shak A horse a horse, [intensity] my kingdom for a horse. ware. I never would lay down my arms — never, never, NEVER. III. — No word that can be omitted and still leave the meaning of the phrase clear, is emphatic, unless the word is used for intensity. With this exception, that word is most emphatic, which, when left out, would most completely destroy the meaning of the phrase or sentence. EXAMPLES. True, I have married her. Here it is evident that the omission of "married " would utterly obscure the meaning. We could say, " True, I have married," and the meaning would be less obscure. "I have married her," would not change the meaning in the least ; " true — married her," while not graceful nor good English, would still be understood in connection with the preceding por- tions of the speech. EMPHASIS. 59 I shall have nothing at all. In this example the word that cannot be omitted is certainly ' ' nothing ; ' ' yet we naturally throw the emphasis upon " all," a word that evidently is not necessary to the phrase, for, " I shall have nothing," wonld express the meaning quite as clearly. The reason for this apparent violation of our rule is that the expres- sion ' ' at all " is inserted especially for emphasis. Like "none whatever," it makes the idea more vivid. A good writer or speaker will use these expressions spar- ingly ; they are like other extreme means for emphasis, allowable only when simpler ones fail. We sometimes find two or more words combined to express what one cannot indicate fully. ' ' Mender-of - bad-soles " is an example. ' ' ]STothing-at-all " might be considered as a similar combination. These groups are called " oratorical words," and are read as if they were compound words with the accent falling on the accented syllable of the last word, like " nevertheless," which is really a group of three words. If the war must go on, why put off longer the declaration of Independence f Yea, though I walk through the valley-of-the-shadoiv-of -death, I shall fear no evil. Notice that in these sentences you will give a wrong impression if you emphasize only one of the italicized words. Of course, the unimportant words, of, the, at, and the like, are passed over lightly, just as if they were unaccented syllables of a long word. LESSON XVI. For Independence of the Legs. Exercise I. Standing in the Speaker's Position, carry the free foot forward as far as possible, that is, until the toe can barely touch, the floor ; then carry the foot back in the same way. Be careful that the body does not twist around, nor move forward and back with the leg. Have no sense of effort anywhere. Exercise II. Carry the free foot out at the side, then across the body to the opposite side in the same manner as in Exercise I. Exercise III. Describe as great a part of a circle as possible with the free foot around the strong foot, the body remain- ing perfectly stationary. Remember that the proper position of the body must be maintained without cramping the muscles or stiffening the joints, which would defeat the object of 60 THE VOWELS. 61 all our exercises, which is to do everything as easily and gracefully as possible. Therefore, begin with slow movements and carry the foot to a moderate distance in each direction, increasing gradually both the rapidity and the extent of the action. The Vowels. — Continued. 7. A obscure. This is the sound that is heard in unaccented syllables as, for instance, arrival, avenge, Abominable. 8. A intermediate. This sound is between the short, somewhat flat sound of a in an or at, and the so-called " Italian " sound of a in ah, father. Ex- amples : ask, task, fast, not ask, task, fast. 9. A in father, mart, ah, part ; also heard in haunt, hearty, guardian. Carefully distinguish between sounds 8 and 9. Practise all vocal exercises and inflections with each sound until it is always at command. Speech Gamut. a a? *a 7 s9? % „a a D a° °« a a q 4 6 7 a a y 9 8 'a Question Answer a 1 Question Answer 9 The voice should run up through the compass of at least an octave, with inflections as in speech. Let the upward movement be a question, and speak the down- ward series as if in answer to it. Breathe between the question and the answer. Practise later with similar groups in circumflexes. (See Lesson XXII.). Use all the vowels as well as groups of words. Enlarge the gamut as you gain in compass. LESSON XVII. Rules for Emphasis.— Continued. IV. — Emphasis falls on the accented syllable 01 the word, except where the new idea is contained in an unaccented syllable. This should be wwaccented. V. — The fewer emphases you can give and still leave the meaning clear, the better. Emphasis upon unimportant words tends to confuse the hearer. Lead directly up to the key-word of the phrase, and let whatever follows take its own course. Do not say, for instance, in the example quoted be- low, " I would never lay down my aems," which would imply that you might do a great many other things equally as bad, possibly lay down your head ; the thought is "never." never lay would down I my arms. fR. I. RULES FOR EMPHASIS. EXAMPLES. Keview Lessons III., VII., XIII., XY. The old mayor I climbed the belfry tower \\ ^ The ringers I ran by two, | by three ; III Pull || if ye never pulled before \\ Good ringers, | pull your best, | quoth he. || R. II. Play uppe, | play uppe, I O Boston bells || R. II. Exception. Ply all your changes || all your swells, || R. III. Play uppe " The Brides o/Enderby." R. III. Note. — Jean Ingelow. Analyze also for inflection. Would the old mayors appeal be major or minor, and why ? The kettle began it ! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle said. I know better. (1) Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on record to tin end of time that she couldn't say which of them began it ; but I sa) the kettle did. (2) I ought to know, I hope ! The kettle begat it, full five minutes by the little waxj'-faced Dutch clock in thr corner, before the cricket uttered a chirp. (3) "Why, I am no,* naturally positive. Every one knows that I wouldn't set my ow-ir opinion against the opinion of Mrs. Peerybingle, unless I were qu,te sure, on any account whatever. Nothing should induce me. Il»?t this is a question of fact. And the fact is (4) that the kettle bbfKzi it at least five minutes before the cricket gave anj r sign of bein£-in- existence. (5) Contradict me, and I'll say ten.— Dickens. This is an example of colloquial speech, every--:' ay conversation. Jt is animated, but not nearly so fo :ci- ble as the preceding selection, which requires, la ?re and there, very powerful emphasis. The style of delivery should be light and tripping, with much self-assertion. We are continually making contrasts between Mrs. Peerybingle and the writer or speali er, and between the kettle and the cricket. Bring out these contrasts with great earnestness. 64 SEVENTEENTH LESSON (1) Would you say " I know better" or " I know better" ? Why ? (See Eule Y.) (2) " I say the kettle did." (See Eule II.) Why? (3) Point out the most emphatic word in this sen- tence, and tell why. (4) " And the fact is" or " and the fact is" ? (5) Two words are especially emphatic here ; which are they, and which of the two is the more emphatic, that is, the more important ? Which is the most emphatic word in the entire selection, and why? You cannot, my lords, }'ou cannot (1) conquer America. What is your present situation there? (2) We do not know the worst, but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot. Your attempts will be forever vain and impotent, doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irri- tates to an incurable resentment the minds of your adversaries to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling- cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country I would never lay down my arms — never, never, never ! — Lord Chatham. (1) This is the preferred emphasis. It brings out more strongly the feeling that conquest is impossible than repetition of the word with its ordinary accent could do. (See Eule IY.) (2) "Present" or "situation"*} why not "there"'} Make this a study in pause as well, both for the sep- aration of ideas and for emphasis. RULES FOR EMPHASIS. 65 EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. O green was the corn as I rode on my way, And bright were the dews on the blossoms of May, And dark was the sycamore's shade to behold, And the oak's tender leaf was of emerald and gold. The thrush from his holly, the lnrk from his cloud, Their chorus of rapture sang jovial and loud: From the soft vernal sky to the soft grassy ground, There was beauty above me, beneath, and around. — Heber. Paul Revere was a rider bold- Well have his valorous deeds been told ; Sheridan's ride was a glorious one — Often has it been dwelt upon ; But why should men do all the deeds On which the love of a patriot feeds ? — Will Carleton. If when I meet my brother man Adrift on life's uncertain sea, To him I give whate'er I can, The honor's not to me. For God to me has freely given From out His bounteous store, So give I of the all I have, And only wish 'twere more. And as I leave, with tearful eyes, My brother who to me was sent, I feel that God has, in disguise, Another blessing to me lent. What is genius ? Is it worth anything ? Is splendid folly the measure of its inspiration ? Is wisdom its base or summit — that which it recedes from or tends towards ? And by what definition do you award the name to the creator of an epic and deny it to the creator of a country ? On what principle is it to be lavished 66 SEVENTEENTH LESSON. on him who sculptures in perishing marble the image of possible excellence, and withheld from him who built up in himself a transcendent character, indestructible as the. obligations of Duty, and beautiful as her rewards ? — E. P. Whipple. Whither, 'midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. — Bryant, "To a Waterfowl. " Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew, Homage to name to Eoderick Dhu ? He yields not, he to man nor Fate ! Thou add'st but fury to my hate ; My clansman's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared ? By heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valor light As that of some vain carpet-knight Who ill deserves my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair. — Scott. LESSON XVIII. Flexibility. — Continued. EXEKCISE V. The Arms. Eaise the arms straight above the head, with the palms up. Now relax them so that they fall of their own weight. If the arms are perfectly flexible and are not interfered with in any way, they will swing to and fro, pendulum-like, and come to rest gradually. Practise this until perfect flexibility is gained, but do not assist the movement by swinging the arms ; they must be perfectly passive. If the clothing or the hips interfere with the arms, practise with one arm at a time, leaning the body over at the side sufficiently to give free play to the arm. Exekcise YI. The Arms. Standing in the Position of Respect, but with the feet a few inches apart to give greater firmness, turn the body on the ankles as far as possible from one 68 EIGHTEENTH LESSON. side to the other, keeping a perfectly upright posi- tion. This movement will throw the arms across the body and back. Practise slowly until you can keep the correct position of the body ; then increase the rapidity until the arms are flung about with consider- able violence. Keep the shoulders relaxed. The Vowels. — Continued. 10. E or % before r as in verge, firm, girl, cleric; also heard in earn, gu&rdon. It is very difficult to describe this sound. The best that can be said is that it is not so heavy as the fol- lowing sound (u in urge), yet is nearer to it than to the 9th sound (ah). We generally hear uncultivated speakers pronounce clerk, for instance, clnrk, while many give it the old-fashioned, quaint pronunciation of dark, which prevails in England. E is about mid- way between these extremes. Do not say gyurl nor gurl, but girl. 11. U in up (short), or u in urn (long quantity of the same sound), urge ; also heard in world, blood, dungeon. 12. in doll, not, often; also in knbivledge. Do not say auften for often, daivg for dog, Gaud for God. LESSON XIX. Breathing- Exercises. —Continued. Review Lesson IV. Exeecise IY. (1) Place the hands on the upper part of the chest in front ; (2) slowly inhale until the chest is expanded fully ; (3) exhale the breath slowly, pressing in and down upon the chest with the hands as if to squeeze out the air. Do this slowly and very gently at first. (4) Inhale as if trying to press out the hands by means of the breath. Keep the shoulders very quiet. Repeat the exercise several times. Exercise V. Place the hands at the sides under the armpits ; breathe in the same way as in Exercise IV. Exercise VI. Place one hand in front and the other at the back ; expand, etc., as before. When pupils have the bad habit of lifting the shoul- ders in breathing, thev should practise 69 70 NINETEENTH LESSON. Exercise VII. Seated in a chair, grasp the rounds at the sides in such a way that the arm is stretched fully and it is not possible for the shoulders to rise. In this position, take slow, full breaths, increasing the rapidity until it is pos- sible to take a very short, quick breath without moving the shoulders. To the Teacher:— Breathing exercises are sometimes very ex- hausting to delicate pupils. Exercise the greatest caution with them, and remember that speedy and remarkable devel- opment is too often gained at the expense of vitality. The slowest growth is most permanent. Ttie Vowels. — Continued. 13. A in all call; also heard in taught, broad, thought. A curious blunder on the part of many speakers is to say ' ' sawr ' ' for saw, ' ' mawr ' ' for maw, while at the same time they are often careful to say ' ' maw ' ' for more. Make a careful distinction between words like carves and calves without overdoing the r sound ; also in orphan and often, coughing and coffin. 14. O before r in or, nor; also in sewer, mower, oar, door, four. This sound of o is not the sound of df it is nearer to long o. The following examples may be used, at the discre- tion of the teacher, as studies in emotional breathing. Notice that the centre of activity varies with each exam- ple, as does also the texture of the body. BREATHING EXERCISES. 71 EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN BREATHING. Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have sworn them allegiance ! Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests. — Longfelloiv. Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lifted up, ye ever- lasting doors ; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory ? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. — Bible. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world. — Shakespeare. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho, ho, he, he, he, he, he I Alas ! Ah me ! Old Simon doth chuckle and crow, ' ' Ho, ho, What, marry old Margery ? No, no, no ! " — Old Song. Ay, de mi ! Like echoes falling, Sweet, and sad, and low, Voices come at night, recalling Years and years ago.— Waller. It was the butcher's daughter, then, So slender and so fair, That sobbed as if her heart would break, And tore her yellow hair ; And thus she spoke in thrilling tone, Fast fell the tear-drops big : "Ah, woe is me! Alas! alas! The pig ! the pig ! the pig ! "—Holmes. n NINETEENTH LESSON "Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig, " no more work to-night. Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up before a man can say Jack Robinson. Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here ! " — Dickens. 1 ' Will they do it ? " " Dare they do it ? " ' ' Who is speaking ? " " What's the news ? " • ' What of Adams ? " " What of Sherman ? " " O God, grant they won't refuse ! " ' ' Make some way, there ! " " Let me nearer ! " ' ' I am stifling ! " " Stifle, then : When a nation's life's at hazard We've no time to think of men ! " — " The Independence Bell." I am the God Thor, I am the War God, I am the Thunderer ! Here in my Northland, My fastness and fortress, reign I forever. Jove is my brother; mine eyes are the lightning; The wheels of my chariot roll in the thunder, The blows of my hammer ring in the earthquake ! — Longfellow. Thick-sprinkled bunting ! flag of stars ! Long yet your road, fateful flag— long yet your road, and lined with bloody death ; For the prize I see at issue at last is the world. All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads, greedy banner ; Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt un- rivall'd ? O hasten, flag of man ! — O with sure and steady step, passing highest flags of Mugs, Walk supreme to the heavens, mighty symbol— run up above them all, Flag of stars! thick-sprinkled bunting! — Walt Whitman. LESSON XX. The Language of the Body. PANTOMIMIC EXPRESSION. The body, as well as the voice, is a means of ex- pression ; and its language, which we call pantomime, is even more effective than speech. " Actions speak louder than words," says the proverb. You cannot say " I love you," and persuade anybody that you mean it, if } T our face wears an ugly scowl or your fist threatens mischief. The body is the outward mani- festation of the soul within and faithfully indicates every emotion, however slight. Nor do these mani- festations entirely disappear with the emotion that causes them. Every disagreeable or evil p ass km is registered upon the organism, until the frequent scowl or sneer becomes a permanent disfigurement of the face, or the slouchy, careless carriage of the body becomes a habit and, finally, a bearing, which is a true index of the lazy or careless spirit within. On the other hand, a happy disposition or a truly brave spirit shows itself in the open countenance or manly bear- ing. The attitude or action of the body has a marked 74 TWENTIETH LESSON. effect upon the voice. If you sing the syllable ah with an open, relaxed face and easy position and then with a frown and the fists clinched, you will notice a de- cided difference in the quality of the tone. Not only does the mind help to form the body, but pantomimic expression affects the mind or soul. If you remain for a little time in an attitude expressive of deep de- jection, you will feel, in a greater or less degree, a cor- responding mental condition ; while a buoyant, strong attitude will often act as a tonic to mind as well as to body. The speaker should have at his command a wide range of attitudes and actions and a thorough knowl- edge of the meanirig of what he does, as well as of what he says. Every action of the body has a defi- nite meaning, and when we are not embarrassed we express ourselves naturally by means of these actions ; but on coming before an audience, or even when re- hearsing in private, we become self-conscious and con- strained. The practice of exercises in pantomimic ex- pression, however, enables us to feel that sense of re- pose and freedom that always comes with knowledge of our resources and perfect command of them. "We cannot take up in this little book all the actions and attitudes, but will endeavor to select those most useful for our present needs. "We will consider the body, for convenience, in four divisions : The trunk or torso, as artists call it, the head, the legs, and the arms. THE LANGUAGE OF THE BODY. 75 The torso is the centre from which all gestures or actions proceed. It must maintain the dignity of the body, and does not condescend to great variety of ac- tion. The chest, which is its upper part, sympathizes with the condition of the mind to a great extent, however, expanding with strong conditions and noble emotions, and contracting or becoming passive in weak or ig- noble conditions. The shoulders rise more or less under the influence of emotion, according to the degree of its strength. In joy, for instance, the shoulders are elevated consid- erably, while in great fear or terror they rise to an ex- treme height and come forward as if to shield the head, which, at the same time, is drawn down between them. In despair or sorrow, the shoulders, like the chest, relax. In defiance or anger, they are drawn back, while the chest expands as if to resist a blow. The shrug of the shoulders, if made slowly, indicates resig- nation — " Still have I borne it with a patient shrug," says old Shylock. "When made quickly it carries the opposite meaning, impatience or contempt. Avoid shrugging the shoulders, except when the expression absolutely requires it. Among refined people the shrug is considered vulgar and often impertinent. The hips pushed out in front express pomposity, vulgar pride, or self-assertion ; drawn back they indi- cate timidity, deference, humility. The proper and normal attitude of the hips is just midway between these extremes. LESSON XXL The Torso. EXAMPLES. Chest and Shoulders. I tell thee, thou'rl defied ! And dar'st thou, then, to beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall ? — Scott. Thou, too, sail on, O ship of state! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! — Longfellow. Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said : " Open; 'tis I, the king! Art thou afraid?" The frightened sexton, muttering with a curse, ' ' This is some drunken vagabond, or worse!" Turned the great key and flung the portal wide. — Longfellow. The second and fourth lines of this last selection are examples of what we call impersonation ; that is, speak- ing or acting not in our own buc in another's character. Here you impersonate King Kobert and afterward the sexton. Where, as in this example, description of an action or condition is followed by its representation, 76 THE TORSO. 77 as in lines 1, 2, 3, and 4, we save our action for the portion where we impersonate. When the lines are descriptive only, however, we accompany the descrip- tion with the appropriate action, as in line 5, where it is very effective to imitate, or rather suggest, the turn- ing of the huge key and the opening of the heavy door, while we describe those actions. He stops — will he fall ? Lo ! for answer, a gleam like a meteor's track, And, hurled on the stones of the pavement, the red brand lies shat- tered and black. — Slansbury. The very deep did rot : O Christ! That ever this should be ! fea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sen. — Coleridge. How do you do, Cornelia ? I heard you were sick, and I stopped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often say: "It's such a com- fort to see you, Aunty Doleful. You have such a flow of conversa- tion, and are so lively." Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs: " Perhaps it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive." — Dallas. Nephew. A merry Christmas, uncle I God save you ! Scrooge. Bah ! humbug ! — Dickens. The Hips. I rise — I rise — with unaffected fear, (Louder I speak louder ! who the deuce can hear?) I rise — I said — with undisguised dismay ; Such are my feelings as I rise, I say ! — Holmes. 78 TWENTY-FIRST LESSON. Falstaff. I have pepper 'd two of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. Thou knowest my old ward; here I lay, and thus [taking attitude of fencer] I bore my point. Falstaff. Was it for me to kill the heir-apparent; should I turn upon the true prince ? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Her- cules But beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince, Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. — Shakespeare. We are very 'umble here, Mister Copperfield. — Dickens. Work out the proper attitudes for these examples by referring to the suggestions in Lesson XX. Of course, there are many actions of the head, feet, and arms that would be necessary to their full expression. These, however, we must leave for the future. Attitudes in many cases become habits, and are then called bearings. For instance, a pompous indi- vidual would carry the hips forward ; while a timid or very deferential person would draw the hips back. Aunty Doleful carries he* body in quite a different manner from Marmion or Douglas, even when moved by no particular emotion, because the doleful condi- tion of mind has become a habit and is reflected in the outward appearance. We have three sorts of pan- tomimic expression: Actions or gestures, which are momentary. Attitudes or positions, which last for a longer or shorter time, but disappear when the emotion changes. INFLECTIONS. 79 Bearings, which are permanent habits of carrying the body or the limbs, and indicate peculiarities of disposition or mind. LESSON XXII. Inflections . — Continued. Beside the simple rising and falling inflections we have various combinations of rising and falling which are called circumflex inflections. Circumflex inflec- tions are always used when we wish to say something that the words themselves do not express. We often say, " oh, yes" or " oh, no" when it is clear that we mean just the opposite, and this meaning is conveyed to the listener by a circumflex inflection. Here follow a number of examples for practice. Try to put into each the meaning that is indicated. Suppose in re- ply to a question like " will you do it ?" the answer "of course" is given, it may have many meanings, as will be seen. EXAMPLES. "Of course," with simple falling inflection, meaning exactly what it says, "I will." "Of course," with surprise, giving " course" with much higher pitch and a slight circumflex turn, meaning " how could you suppose I would do anything else ?" SO TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. "Of course, " with contempt, "why do you ask such a foolish question ?" "Of course," with a sigh, " I suppose I must " "Of course," with sarcasm (double circumflex), meaning " that is about the last thing I would do." The question may be asked in many ways also, e.g., with reproach, "will you'* (of whom I thought better things); with contempt, "you are a likely person to undertake it;" with joy, surprise, etc. "Ah !" Calling some one at a distance. "Ah!" Minor, " come help me." "Ah?" Surprise, with rising inflection, "is it really so?" For information. " Ah !" Surprise, with falling inflection, "is it possible I" "well you do astonish me!" " Ah I" Playfully, " now I've caught you;" " I see through you." " Ah!" Playfully, but with rising inflection, " did you think you could catch me ?" " Oh !" Distress, pain. " Oh !" Meaning, " that relieves my mind:" " that satisfies me;" " that alters the question." "Oh!" "For shame!" ''Yes." Simple assertion, falling inflection. "Yes." Indifferently, "I don't care particularly about it, but if you wish it I will." "Yes." " I suppose I must." "Yes." Joyfully, "I am glad to;" "of course I will, with pleasure," None dared withstand him to his face, But one sly maiden spoke aside: "The little witch is evil-eyed ! Her mother only killed a cow, Or witched a churn or dairy pan; But she, forsooth, must charm a man." — Whittier. Oh, then, I see Queen Mah hath been with you. — Shakespeare. THE VOWELS. 81 Circumflex inflections are either rising or falling, that is, conclude with a rising or a falling inflection. The rising inflections start from a high pitch, move downward and conclude with an upward turn. The falling inflections start from below, move up- ward and conclude with a downward turn. EXAMPLES. . ah. Ah •ah? Ah y \h\ W Practise these sounds with slight separation at first and then connect them with precisely the same melody. We have also the double circumflex, used in sar- casm, irony, and the like. Hath a d5g money ? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats? — Shakespeare. The rising or falling circumflex inflections are gov- erned bythe same laws as the simple inflections ; that is, the rising slides inquire, express deference to the will of the listener, even if it be mock deference, indif- ference, indecision, doubt, or timidity ; the falling cir- cumflexes are positive, decided, complete. The Vowels. — Continued. 15. in old, beau, throe. 16. U in pull, full: also heard in icolf,foot. 17. 00 in pool; also in rude, rule, shoe, you, cruise. 82 TWENTY-SECOND LESSON From 12 on, we notice a gradual protrusion of the lips, until in 17 we reach the last of our vowel-sounds, where the lips are pursed together to a considerable extent. Try to get these sounds with as little lip-action as possible. _ To the Teacher : — I have indicated in this lesson an interesting and valuable exercise. Let the pupils practise on simple exclamations and calls like " oh ! " "oh, dear ! " " come here ! " "John!" "ah!" etc. Have them also try to discover the elliptical meaning of impromptu exclamations by the teacher. Many excellent examples may be found in Bell's "Principles of Elocution. " I do not, however, advise the use of marks to indicate the direction of the inflection, except occasionally by way of analogy, for the reason that they tend at first to con- fuse the student, and afterward to cause him to rely over- much upon the external, mechanical form of the slide, rather than upon the inner, mental condition that should prompt it. In other words, his reading is apt to be more mechanical than if he discarded all mechanical aids and relied solely upon his art instinct. Again, it is impossible to indicate the more minute shades of inflection that belong to truly natural ex- pression ; so that, after all, any notation falls short of abso- lute fidelity to nature. Since it is almost impossible to indicate to the eye, even approximately, the nicer shades of meaning, and since, also, the average inexperienced pupil makes a very poor connection in his mind between a mark on the black- board and a sound in his ear, and therefore is quite as likely to be misled as helped by such marks, it is better to rely upon the ear and the intelligence altogether. The meaning of an ordinary inflection is patent to any intelligent child, and when once the meaning of an inflection is understood, it is usually conveyed with perfect accuracy. See that pupils do not cramp the throat. Use these inflections for vocal practice ; nothing can be better for flexibility of the speaking- voice. Make all exercises in inflection mental. A word of warning should be given regarding a very common error in teaching vowel-production, and an error, too, which has the sanction of high authority, yet which, nevertheless, should be carefully avoided by the progressive teacher. I refer to the exaggerated mouthing of the vowels. Doubtless the majority of teachers who read this are familiar with dia- grams in which ah, e, and oo seem intended as examples of facial distortion, rather than as exercises in intonation. Not only are these gapings, grinnings and poutings useless for the purposes for which they are given, but the faithful student THE VOWELS. 83 who practises them persistently will find, perhaps too late, that they tend to render all facial expression absolutely ab- normal. My own experience as teacher and pupil long ago led me to discard this and similar exaggerations of normal actions, not only in articulation, but in expression every- where. EXAMPLES FOE PEACTICE. The Cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man and never fails to see a bad one. If Mr. A is pronounced a religious man, he will reply: Yes— on Sundays. Mr. B has just joined the church: Certainly; the elections are coming on. Such a man is generous — of other men's money. This man is obliging — to lull suspicion and cheat you. That man is upright — because he is green. — Beecher. Brutus. What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. — Shakespeare. Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower : "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth! Why come you drest like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth ? " — Tennyson. Can honor set a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honor? A word. What is that word, honor? Air. Who hath it? He that died on Wednesday? Doth Ue feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible, theix * Yes, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it. — Shakespeare. "Ain't goin' to see the celebration ? " Says Brother Nate. " No ; botheration ! I've got sich a cold— a toothache — I — My gracious!— feel's though I should fly I " — Trowbridge. 84 TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than to be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood ; but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree. — Shakespeare. Marullus. You, sir : what trade are you ? 2d Citizen. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou ? Answer me directly. 2d Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe con- science; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave ? thou naughty knave, what trade ? 2d Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me : yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What meanst thou by that ? Mend me, thou saucy feUow? 2d Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flavtus. Thou art a cobbler, art thou ? 2d Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day ? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ? 2d Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. — Shakespeare. Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Tho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that. — Burns. LESSON XXIII. The Legs. The legs are, as we know, the agents by which we advance or retreat from objects about us, and their attitudes indicate our relations with surrounding per- sons or things. We know that usually the body should rest upon one foot ; sometimes, however, the weight is equally upon both feet. We will consider both conditions. Weight on One Foot. We go towards objects that attract us or that we wish to influence ; we draw back from things that displease or repel us. Hence, sympathy, attraction, animation, joy, and all expansive feelings, menace, attack, and pursuit, call for attitudes in which the weight is upon the advanced foot, that is, upon the foot that is supposed to be nearest the object of the action. Antipathy, repulsion, melancholy, in difference, re- flection, concentration, defence, defiance, etc., require the opposite attitude, where the weight is upon the So 86 TWENTY-THIRD LESSON. retired foot, that farthest from the object exciting the emotion. When the body has a position suitable to the exer- cise of great effort, as, for instance, with the feet firmly braced to resist a blow, it is said to be in a strong position. When the body does not offer great resistance, as when the feet are near together, or when the weight is entirely on one foot with the free leg weak, as in the Speaker's Position, the attitude is said to be weak. Laws of Attitude, I.— Conscious strength assumes weak positions; conscious weakness assumes strong positions. When the feet are wide apart, the body is said to have a strong or broad base, when the feet are near together, a weak base. II. — In proportion to the degree of energy will be the strength of the base. ILLUSTRATIONS. Law I. — A speaker coming before an audience in a timid frame of mind would naturally try to hide his condition ; and, in so doing, would stand in a very strong attitude, as much as to say : " I am not afraid ;" while one accustomed to public appearance, and fully confident of his control over his body, would assume the most easy and graceful position at his command. A blustering bully would plant his legs wide apart, and, in other ways which we have marked THE LEGS. out elsewhere, indicate to an experienced observer that he was assuming a bravery that he really did not possess ; while his antagonist, if cool and collected, would stand in an attitude of comparative weakness, with weight resting lightly on one foot. Law II. — The attitude of respect is unemotional ; but if you were in that attitude, and suddenly saw something that interested you, you would advance, and, if very much excited, might fairly spring toward it. So your attitude when standing still would ex- press strong excitement, just in proportion to its sim- ilarity to the same expression of the legs and feet when in motion. Weight on Both Feet. With the feet as in walking, expresses suspense, un- certainty, as if you did not know whether to advance or retreat. With the feet wide apart sideways, ex- presses vulgar ease, familiarity, pomposity, arrogance. With the feet near together, expresses timidity, re- spect, subordination, weakness. Sitting. Under like conditions, the attitudes of the feet when sitting are the same as in standing. For instance, in animated attention the feet would be well apart, one foot being under the chair, perhaps, as if you were about to spring from your seat, which is just what you would do if your excitement became very great. 88 TWENTY-THIRD LESSON. EXAMPLES FOR, PRACTICE IN ATTITUDE. It does not matter how little or how much any of us have read either of Homer or Shakespeare; everything round us, in sub- stance or in thought, has been moulded by them. All Greek gentlemen were educated under Homer; all Roman gentlemen by Greek literature; all Italian and French and English gentle- men by Roman literature and by its principles. Of the scope of Shakespeare, I will say only that the intellectual measure of every man since born in the domains of creative thought may be assigned to him according to the degree in which he has been taught by Shakespeare.— Ruskin. So boldly he entered the Netherby hail, 'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), " O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar V— Scott. ' ' Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast that the broad Empire of Rome could furnish, and yet never has lowered his arm. And if there be one among you who can say that, ever, m public fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him step forth and say it. If there be three in all your throng dare face me on the bloody sand, let them step forth ! "—Kellogg. It is an ancient mariner, And he stoppeth one of three : " By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now, wherefore stop'st thou me ? " He holds him with his skinny hand : "There was a ship," quoth he. " Hands off, unhand me, greybeard loon! " Eftsoons his hand drops he. — Coleridge. THE LEGS. 89 Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are, And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre ! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears at rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest. — Macazday. He drew the covering closer on his lip, Crying "Unclean! unclean! " and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. — Willis. " Ho ! why dost thou shiver and shake, Gaffer Gray ? And why does thy nose look so blue ? " — " Tis the weather that's cold, Tis I'm grown very old, And my doublet is not very new. Well-a-day ! " — Old Song. In there came old Alice, the nurse, Said, " Who was this that went from thee ? " "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare; "To-morrow he weds with me." " Oh, God be thanked ! " said Alice, the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair: Lord Eonald is heir of all your lands, " And you are not the Lady Clare." "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse ?" Said Lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild ? " " As God's above, " said Alice, the nurse, " I speak the truth— you are my child" —Tennyson. LESSON XXIV. Articulation.— Continued. The Vowels. — Continued. We have now gone through the list of simple vowel- sounds ; — all other vowels are combinations of some of these. J is 9-1 blended, thus, ah-e ; ow in now is 9- 17 ; oi in oil is 13-1; To is 1-17, except when it fol- lows r, when it has the sound 17 alone, as in rule, true. Careless speakers often say " floot " when they mean flute, " dooty " for duty, and so on. No one, however, says "poo" for peiv, nor " foo " for few, though there is equally good reason for such pronun- ciation. One of the marks of a well-educated person is his careful enunciation of this much-abused vowel u. When a voAvel occurs in an unaccented syllable, it is not pronounced with such care and exactness as when it receives the accent ; for instance, we say syl'-la-o'l, not syl'-la-bel. The vowels in the second and third syllables here are said to be obscure, because it is not always easy to determine which sound is 90 ARTICULATION. 91 given. If our example were spelt " syllibul," it would make scarcely a perceptible difference in the sound of the word. These obscure sounds are generally indi- cated in dictionaries by a single dot under the vowel. The only rule for the pronunciation of obscure vowels is to make the sound as nearly like the full sound as is possible without seeming stilted. The articles, person d pronouns, conjunctions, and short prepositions like »/*, to, from, and for, are always obscure, except when tl ey are emphatic. Thus, w T hen we say, " give it to me,' we give the e in me its obscure sound (2d vowel), like i in pin; but when w r e say " give it to me," we give it its long sound (1st vowel). Nor do we say to (too), but almost tu (11th vowel). Treat such words, as regards pronunciation, exactly like the unaccented syllables in words. To be over exact and pedantic would often alter the meaning of the sentence, as in the illustration above. The Consonants. The consonants are formed by the action of the tongue, palate, and lips. The following consonants are made by compressing the lips and then separating them by a quick recoil and relaxation, b, p. Do not give the consonants their name-sounds in practising, thus : be, pe. Combine these and all following consonants with each of the seventeen vowel-sounds. 92 TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. To the Teacher : — Rhythmical exercises like the following will be found useful in attaining flexibility and accuracy in the use of the agents of articulation : In common time : Bd bd bd, bd bd bd, bd bd bd, bd. Repeat three times, sustaining the last bd a full beat, making a succes- sion of three triplets and a quarter note; the last time sustain the final bd as long as possible. In common time: Bd bd bd bd, bd bd bd bd. bd bd bd bd, bd, as if there were three groups of sixteenth notes, and a quarter note. Distinguish carefully between successions of bd and of db, pa and dp. Careless practice will result in something like db a bd bd bd bd, etc. This caution applies to many other com- binations. LESSON XXV. The Head. The head has gestures and attitudes. The gestures of the head are few but full of meaning. The com- mon ones are the nod, meaning yes ; the shake of the head, meaning no ; and a contemptuous fling of the head to one side, which latter, like a shrug of con- tempt, which it usually accompanies, is to be avoided, except when absolutely necessary to the expression. The attitudes or positions of the head are more numerous and important than are its gestures. We find nine fundamental positions of the head. THE HEAD. I.— The Head Erect. (Tig. 8.) This is the attitude of simple attention without sympathy. We find it in the attitude of Eespect (Lesson VI.). As a bearing or /^^ habit, it indicates strong vitality, con- sciousness of power. Be careful that the position of the body, either in sitting or standing, corresponds to that of the head, so far as your knowledge goes. II.— The Head Bowed. (Fig. 9.) This indicates one of two conditions : Either the mind is so occupied that the attention is drawn away from surrounding things ; or, we are submitting our- selves to some one or something more powerful than ourselves ; we say, for instance, " man must bow to the inevitable." This, then, is the ' expression of reflection, thought, mental concentration, or of respect and submission. As a bearing, the bowed head might indicate a thoughtful char- acter, or a very humble, abject person. What would be the difference in the bearing of the hips and chest ? The ordinary bow means that you place yourself at the service of the person you salute. You are, for the time, his " humble servant." The attitude of the body will vary with the condition you wish to represent. <)4 TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. HI.— The Head Lifted. (Fig. 10.) The head is lifted in joy, animation, *&& exultation, vehemence, expressions of pride, superiority, and the like, and, as a bearing, would indicate similar mental characteristics. IN.— The Head Pivoted. (Fig. 11.) The head pivoted or turned toward an object or person shows a feeling of at- traction ; turned from, that is, in an op- posite direction, the pivot indicates dis- like, repulsion, aversion. This is not a bearing ; people do not go about habit- ually with the head turned to one side. [Speaker's Position.] ' he said, "J VI. EXAMPLES. The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped to bid adieu. "Though something I might 'plain,' Of cold respect to stranger guest Sent hither by your king's behest, Part we in friendship from your land ) And'noble earl, receive my hand." II. [But with coldness.] —Scott. My liege, your anger can recall your trust, Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, Rifle my coffers; but my name, my deeds, Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre.— Bulwer Lytton. Tbis selection would be begun in the attitude of conscious power (I.), and gradually develop) into THE HEAD, 95 (III.) that of conscious superiority, at the words " royal in a land beyond your sceptre." Of course, a conventional bow at the words " my liege " would be very appropriate. Also, the head might pivot (IV.) toward the imaginary " office," " lands," and " coffers;" but such movements would be very slight, and are not necessary. To be — or not to be — that is the question. II. — Shakespeare. Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! III. — Macaulay. Nephew. A merry Christmas, uncle ! God save you ! III. Scrooge. Bah ! humbug ! — Dickens. IV. Shall I bend low and, in a bondman's key, With 'bated breath and whispering humbleness, say this : " Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spurned me such a day ; another time You called me — dog ; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies?" — Shakespeare. Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold, As to dive to the howling charybdis below? — Schiller. Here the head will pivot from side to side, as the king glances over the assembled courtiers, while his bearing may be either I. or III., more likely the lat- ter, as he is rather a haughty individual. This is an example of the combination of two attitudes. Remember that there are many degrees to all actions and attitudes, and that you must exercise suf- ficiently good taste to avoid overdoing on the one hand and tameness on the other. LESSON XXVI. Articulation.— Continued. With the lips closed we have one other sound, m, sometimes called a nasal consonant, because its sound escapes through the nostrils. It is in reality a hum- ming sound, and is one of the few consonants that may be sustained for an indefinite time. i^and v are formed by pressing the lower lip against the teeth. W, in wine, zuh, in ivhine, are formed by rounding the lips somewhat, as in the formation of the vowel do. Wh is really hiu; we say hwen, hwine, not iv-hen, w-hine. With the tongue in various positions we form the following consonants : T, d, by the recoil of the tip of the tongue from the upper teeth. L, n, by keeping the tip of the tongue in its position against the upper teeth, but more relaxed than in t and d. N is the nasal sound in this position. R is formed in two ways : With the tip of the tongue very much relaxed we get what is commonly VOCAL EXERCISES. called the trilled or rough r; with the tongue curving inward gently, but without any vibration of the tip, we have the smooth or glide r, in care, car, culture, etc. Be sure to give this smooth r its true value ; do not say cdh, call, cultcha. With the tip of the tongue between the teeth we get th, in thin, myth; th, soft, in this, with, beneath. Vocal Exercises.— Continued. Exercise IV. For Speaking Without Waste of Breath. With face and throat perfectly relaxed, take a firm, solid breath and call out suddenly and rather forcibly " ha !" As you make the sound, expand the waist slightly. Practise this, holding the flame of a candle near the mouth. If more breath is used than is necessary, the flame will flicker as you make the sound ; but when absolute control is gained, it will remain perfectly steady. Of course, the flame will be disturbed when the breath escapes after the exercise ; do not mind that. Use other vowel-sounds in the same way. Make a succession of sounds with one breath, as many as you can, and in various rhythms, 98 TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. EXAMPLES FOR VOCAL PRACTICE. Airy, fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Claps her tiny hands above me, Laughing all she can ; She'll not tell me if she love me, Cruel little Lilian. — Tennyson. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young f riskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Pointing tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, Followed the Piper for their lives. —Browning. Now clear, pure, hard, bright, and one by one, like to hailstones, Short words fall from his lips fast as the first of a shower, — Now in twofold column, Spondee, Iamb, and Trochee, Unbroke, firm-set, advance, retreat, trampling along, — Now with a sprightlier springiness, bounding in triplicate syllables. Dance the elastic Dactylics in musical cadences on ; Now, their voluminous coil intertangling like huge anacondas. Roll overwhelmingly onward the sesquipedalian words.— Stacy. Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen ! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head : Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; Amaze the welkin with your broken staves. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Advance our standards, set upon our foes ! Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms.— Shakespeare. VOCAL EXERCISES. 99 In the following examples study the pantomimic as well as the vocal expression, giving especial attention to the attitudes of the head. (See Lessons XXY. and XXVII.) Girl ! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands, Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words ! Fight ! let me hear thy hateful voice no more ! — Matthew Arnold. Then Rustum raised his head ; his dreadful eyes Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear And shouted : ' ' Rustum ! " — Matthew Arnold. I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas! it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius! " As a sick girl. — Shakespeare. So you beg for a story, my darlings, My brown-eyed Leopold, And you, Alice, with face like morning, And curling locks of gold. Then come, if you will, and listen — Stand close beside my knee — To a tale of the Southern city, Proud Charleston by the sea. — M. A. P. Stansbury. Hail to thee, blithe spirit ! — bird thou never wert — That from heaven, or near it, pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. —Shelley, " The Skylark:' LESSON XXVII. Attitudes of the Head.— Continued. Y.— TJie Head Inclined (Fig. 12) Indicates ease, trustfulness, familiarity, or indiffer- ence. When the head is inclined toward a person or object it indicates affectionate or trustful attention. When the head inclines in the oppo- site direction from the object at which the speaker is looking, it indicates distrust, or criticism. When the eye fig. 12. a l so i s turned away, the expression is of great indifference, inattention. As a bearing, the head may sway from side to side, in which case it indicates self-esteem, indifference to others, egotism, or merely an easy-going nature, ac- cording to the degree of the movement. The head inclined habitually to one side is indicative of a senti- mental nature, apt to be indiscriminately trustful. Very great inclination denotes a degree of mental weakness. Usually this attitude is an affectation. 100 ATTITUDES OF THE HEAD. 101 VI.— The Head Advanced (Fig. 13) indicates eagerness, curiosity, and sometimes threat- ening. This also may be a bearing. VII.— The Head Draivn Bach (Fig. 14) indicates surprise, suspicion, harsh moods of the mind, like hatred, fear, anger or disgust. As a bearing it denotes characteristics of a like unpleasant nature. VIII.— The Head Hing (Fig. 15) indicates shame, despair, or bodily weakness. The hang of the head differs from the bow in that all the muscles of the neck relax and the head drops lifelessly forward, while in the bow the neck yields but a very little at the most. As a bearing this would indicate weakness as of a very old man, an invalid, or an im- becile. IX.— The Head Thrown Back (Fig. 16) indicates prostration, agony either of mind or of body. We seldom have use for so extreme an attitude as this, 102 TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. but quite often make a similar movement to express disgust or Aveariness, throwing back the head as if seeking to rest it on an imaginary pillow or on the shoulder. EXAMPLES. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire. V. Here is a beautiful example of the indifferent incli- nation and action of the head in the first two lines, changing to the affectionate bearing as the anger of Brutus gradually melts. Who is it leans from the belfry with face upturned to the sky, Clings to a column and measures the dizzy height with his eye ? VI. — Siansbury. How like a fawning publican he looks. V., VII. — Shakespeare. Here Shylock's expression is a mixture of suspicion and jealousy, and the attitude of the head should cor- ATTITUDES OF THE HEAD. 103 respond. The head will not only incline away but be drawn back from Antonio, whose approach he is watch- ing. King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast And meekly answered him [VIII.] " Thou knowest best; My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence, And in some cloister's school of penitence, Across those stones that pave the way to heaven, Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven!" — Longfellow. Oh, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit. IX. — Shakespeare. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a- weary of this great world. IX. — Shakespeare. In practising these attitudes, always try to feel the corresponding emotion. Take a sentence like " what shall I do," and give it with each attitude, expressing by your voice, as well, the different meanings that it would have. Thus, with I. the question would be simply for in- formation, or to express willingness to perform what might be required. With II. it should express submission (willing or unwilling) or great courtesy ; or it might be reflective in character, or indicate that you are greatly per- plexed. "With III. it might express joyous willingness, — " how can I best show my pleasure?" With IY. it would indicate a degree of uncertainty if you pivoted the head from side to side ; or a great 104 TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. degree of attention if the head were quiet ; or you might express contempt by turning the head away, — " how shall I get rid of this fellow ?" With Y. indifference, or trustful affection might be shown in the voice. With VI. and VII. the meanings would be obvious. With VIII. it would express despair or shame. With IX. it would indicate either agony, or terrible mental suffering ; or, if given with but partial relaxa- tion, weariness or disgust. To the Teacher: — Be careful that the pupils do not mix the atti- tudes in practising, as, for instance, bowing and hanging, lifting and throwing back, pivoting and inclining. At the same time, do not forget that many of these attitudes may be legitimately combined. Space will not allow of indicating or exemplifying these here, but it Mill be found very useful to work out such combinations, with their appropriate definitions, as, for instance, inclining and bowing toward the object denotes trustful submis- sion, while the opposite inclination would indicate distrustful submission. LESSON XXVIII. Climax. "We have studied the relations of the words in a phrase. It remains now to show that the phrases in a sentence are related to one another, just as the words in a phrase are ; that sentences, again, combine in groups, of which one will be the most important ; that, again CLIMAX. 105 these groups or paragraphs bear similar relations to one another. So we shall find, in every piece that we study, one paragraph that is the most important, one sentence in that paragraph that is the most important, one phrase in that sentence and one word in that phrase that is the most important of all. When we arrive at this word we have reached the climax of that partic- ular piece. "We speak of a word being emphatic, and of other words in the phrase as being subordinate to that word. Just as we have a series of emphatic words more or less subordinate to the principal emphatic word in a sentence, so we have subordinate climaxes in pieces of considerable length. ILLUSTRATIVE EXAMPLE. stones | blocks ! you than you senseless you ' ' things ! — Shakespeare. Here are three emphatic words in as many phrases. Each phrase starts a little higher than the preceding. Each emphatic word is further from the subordinate word that precedes it. "You worse than senseless things" is the clintax, and, of course, " blocks" and " stones" are emphases subordinate to " worse," as are their respective phrases to the last phrase. The well-known oration of Mark Antony is a splen- did illustration of a series of climaxes, culminating at iu6 TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON, the very last line. Often the principal climax will be followed by subordinate passages, but a truly dra- matic outburst leaves the audience at the highest pitch of emotion. After a subordinate climax, there should be a period of comparatively quiet expression, gradu- ally culminating in another strongly emphatic pas- sage. Just as a painter gets his effects of light by putting surrounding objects more or less in shadow, so we in- tensify our climax by using moderation in the passa- ges that precede and follow it. In the above exam- ple, if all our force of emphasis were expended upon "you blocks," there would be nothing left to give added strength to what follows ; and if a passage of this kind were of any great length, the reader would be exhausted before reaching the end, and unable even to sustain what force he had already given, the result of which would be an anti-climax, which is usually either very painful to the listener or very ridiculous. "King Robert of Sicily," "Catiline's Defiance," " Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures," " The Vagabonds," " Bay Billy," and similar selections, are good exam- ples of a succession of climaxes. The means for attaining this effect are various, de- pending upon the kind of emotio^i portrayed. Some- times the climax is attained simply by high pitch, sometimes by force, and again by sinking the voice and reducing its volume to a whisper. We will discuss some of these means in the following lessons. In the CLIMAX, 10? meantime, analyze some of the selections mentioned above, bearing in mind that the rules for emphasis given in previous lessons apply exactly as well to phrases, sen- tences and paragraphs as to words. Pibroch of Donuil Dim, Pibroch of Donuil, Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan Conuil. Come away, come away, hark to the summons ! Come in your war array, gentles and commons . Come from deep glen, and from mountain so rocky ; The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlocky. Come every hill-plaid, and true heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and strong hand that bears one. Come as the winds come, when forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; see how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume blended with heather ! Cast your plaids, draw your blades, forward each man set ! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, knell for the onset. — Scott. "Young men, ahoy there ! " "What is it ?" ' ' The rapids are below you ! " "Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us. What care we for the future ! No man ever saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life while we may ; will catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with the current." "Young men, ahoy ! " "What is it?" ' ' Beware ! Beware ! The rapids are below you ! " Now you see the water foaming all around. See how fast you 108 TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. pass that point! Up with the helm! Now turn! Pull hardl quick ! quick ! quick ! pull for your lives ! pull till the blood starts from the nostrils, and the veins stand like whip-cords upon thy brow ! Set the mast in the socket ! hoist the sail ! — ah ! ah ! it is too late ! Shrieking, cursing, howling, blaspheming, over they go. Thousands go over the rapids every year, through the power of habit, crying all the while, " When I find out that it is injuring me I will give it up! "—John B. Gough. LESSOH XXIX. T*ie Eye. The eye is the leader in all expression. If we wish to direct attention toward anything about us, we must first look at it ourselves ; if we feel emotion of any sort, the first manifestation of it is seen in the eye. To be exact, we should treat of the actions of the lids and brows separately from those of the eye proper ; but for convenience we will consider the eye as comprising the upper and lower lids, the eye proper, and the eyebrows above. The eye in its normal condition, looking straight forward, indicates calmness, confidence, equality with the person toward whom we gaze. The eye lifted, looking upward, indicates calm and confident regard of something superior to ourselves; looking downward in- dicates regard of an inferior. We call these the direct actions of the eye. Starting from the normal size, the eye opens wider, THE EYE. 109 through the following degrees : (1) animated attention : (2) surprise, pain, fear; (3) frenzy. The oje contracts through (1) indifference; (2) slyness, craftiness, scru- tiny, antagonism, to (3) sleep, or death. With all, except the last, we may have the three regards of the eye ; that is, we may look toward a superior, an equal, or an inferior with hatred, indifference, animation, or whatever may be the emotion required. The position of the eyebrows would sometimes be parallel with the upper lid, as in surprise, when both lid and brow rise, or in opposition, as in horror. In extreme terror the eyebrows rise. In threatening anger, physical pain, the brows contract; they contract with less intensity in puzzled thought, application. The brows rise in surprise, patient endurance, suffering. The indirect eye, as it is called, that is, the eye not looking straight forward, up or down, but more or less sideways, like the indirect inflections of the voice, has a double meaning. With the eye indirect we look at an object with suspicion, fear, affection, indifference, rail- lery, or various other emotions, according to the attitude of the head. For instance, the indirect eye with the head inclined toward an object, indicates not merely attention, but attention to some one or some thing we are attracted tc . j.rd ; with the head in the opposite direction the indirect eye is suspicious, fearful, or, at least, critical. It will be seen that the attitudes of the head must be carefully studied before we can have cer- tainty in determining the meaning of a glance. The indirect eye may be normal, lifted, or lowered, as well as the direct eye. 110 TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. The various attitudes of the head combine with and modify the meaning of the direct eye in many instances. Thus, with the head drawn back we-^fould have harsh regard, of superior, inferior or equal, as the case might be ; with the head lifted, adoration or contempt, accord- ing to the direction of the eye, etc. Bowing. In bowing to an audience the head bends, then the torso inclines slightly ; the torso first returns to an erect position, then the head follows. Be careful to observe this order. The attitude of resj^ect is, of course, the proper one for the legs. Do not bend the knees. Glance about the room as you bow, or else bow several times, i. e. , to right, to left, and in front ; the first method is much the better. A lady's bow may have a suggestion of the courtesy, carrying the free foot back and then retiring the weight to the free foot, with a slight bend of the retired knee. To the Teacher :— The hints given above regarding the combina- tions of head and eye will suggest to the earnest teacher a broad field for investigation. How far the student may be allowed to work out these problems will depend upon his natural ability and mental advancement. The teacher can demand as much or as little of independent investigation as he deems fit. I have usually found, however, that pupils who are sufficiently advanced "to comprehend this work at all take delight in such problems, and derive much greater bene- fit from original investigation than from merely learning what is already laid down for them. The order of movement in attention is, first, eye, then head ; but in declamation and dialogues, where the action is determined and studied before- hand, pupils are very apt to make a mechanical turn of the head in inverse order : first, head, then eye. To overcome this may require much patience ; but the habit must be con- quered before the pupil proceeds further in pantomime. THE EYE. Ill EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. King Henry. My blood has been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, As you have found me ; for, accordingly, You tread upon my patience ; but be sure I will, from henceforth, rather be myself Mighty and to be feared, than my condition ; Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. Worcester. Our House, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it ; And that same greatness, too, which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. Northumberland. My good lord King. Worcester, get thee gone ; for do I see Danger and disobedience in thine eye : O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow. You have good leave to leave us : when we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. {Exit Worcester.] [To North. ] You were about to speak. — Shakespeare, " Henry IV." Part I. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume ; And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar. " —Scott Hear the loud alarum bells — brazen bells ! What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright \—Poe. LESSON XXX. Rhythm. In our first studies in emphasis we noticed that the important word of the phrase was often dwelt upon, while the subordinate words were spoken more rapidly in comparison. For instance, " I stood on the bridge," if spoken naturally, would exhibit quite a variety of movement* the words "I stood" would about equal the word " bridge " in time value, while " on the " would be spoken quite rapidly, " the " being only an obscure sound with no greater value than if it were an unaccented syllable. It is easy to see that this variety of movement not only serves the purpose of showing the proper rela- tions of the various words with one another, but is more agreeable to the ear than a measured and mo- notonous rendering could possibly be. It is this har- monious variety of movement that constitutes rhythm. It is not alone necessary, remember, that there should be variety, but the variety must have a reason be- hind it. Eh} T thm in speech does not differ very widely from musical rhythm. It is more varied and changeable, 112 RHYTHM. 113 but the elements are essentially the same. We have, for instance, triple and common movements, phrases beginning upon various beats of the measure, and pauses, which correspond to rests in music, and, like them, should be proportioned to the movement of the spoken words. Our combinations, however, are, as we have said, much more varied than in music, for we have frequent alternations of triple and common time, abrupt changes in the rate of movement, and much greater freedom in the use of pauses. How- ever, when we consider what we have learned with respect to the melody of speech in connection with the above-mentioned resemblances in rhythm, we find that speech and song are much nearer together than are commonly supposed. We can easily illustrate both the resemblances and differences of the two by a few characteristic exam- ples : The words "Yankee Doodle" are pronounced just about as they are sung, so far as the rhythm is concerned, though as much cannot be said for the remaining words of the song, which are subordi- nated to the melody. By using dotted notes, however, the melody, simple as it is, may be brought pretty near to the natural rhythm of the lines. " Come to my house" is, virtually, three-four time, thus § J • « J «J ^ Come to my house is f rhythm i; J • J I J J B II or ' if vei 7 em ~ phatic, | J . / | J J * 1 1 Come to mJ house 114 THIRTIETH LESSON. f J | J. J" J * 1 1 Gome to my house| J. M | J This evening is | J | J J Come to my house this evening, if spoken naturally, would correspond to | J • / J | | J J | J, J 1 1 or better, per- haps, J. J J J J I J J ^ Here Ave have a mixture of 3. =» triple and quadruple or common time, which is not rare in music, but is much more common in speech. The relations of words, phrases, and sentences are shown quite as clearly by their rhythmical propor- tions as by variations in pitch. It is easy to see that important phrases, sentences, and paragraphs will, other things being equal, have slower movement and broader rhythm than less nec- essary passages. Often, however, where the expres- sion is of an impetuous nature, the climax is attained by rush and stress, rather than by breadth. Compare the following from " Henry IV.," Part I. : King. Sirrah, from henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. Send us your prisoners or }'Ou'll hear of it. [Slow and [Exit.] impressive.] Hotspur. An if the Devil come and roar for them, I will not send them : I will after straight, And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head.— Shakespeare. RHYTHM. 115 Contrast the commanding manner of the King with the impetuosity of the fiery Hotspur. Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe "The Brides of Enderby. "—Jean lngelow. Here, again, the impetuosity and excitement cause more rapid movement at the climax. u Sheridan's Ride " and Coleridge's " Hymn to Mont Blanc " may be instanced as examples at opposite extremes of rhyth- mical expression. EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn and skims along the main. — Pope. I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three. "Good speed! " cried the watch, as the gate -bolts undrew; "Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through. Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place ; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, Rebuckled the cheek- strap, chained slacker the bit — Nor galloped less steadily Roland, a whit. — Robert Browning. Oh, you and I have heard our fathers say There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome, As easily as a king.— Shakespeare. 116 THIRTIETH LESSON. When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me, useless, though my soul were bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide. " Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ? " I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies : ' ' God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts. "Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait. " — Milton. Bird of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place; Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud- Love gives it energy ; love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven ; thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day ; Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! Then when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place ; Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! — James Hogg. ACTIONS OF THE HAND. Ill So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry -slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. — Bryant. lessoe: xxxi. Actions of the Hand. The actions of the arm are what are usually known as gestures. Although, as we have seen, gestures may be made elsewhere, the arm has almost a monopoly of them. The arm is divided into upper arm, forearm, and hand. We begin with the hand. I. — Simple Indication. (Fig. 17.) Point with the forefinger of either hand toward some object ; be sure that the movement is from the wrist — that is, that the hand alone and not the forearm moves. Have 118 THIRTY-FIRST LESS OK the arm near the body in an easy and natural atti- tude. The other fingers of the hand should not shut tightly, but be allowed to fall easily into a curved position. The forefinger here is active, the other fingers are passive. The thumb should not fall lifelessly inward, but should have a degree of activity, being expanded outward and upward in pro- portion to the activity of the forefinger. The thumb is always more or less active in all ani- mated, healthy conditions of mind and body. A relaxed thumb indicates either lack of vitality, indif- ference or passivity of mind, or weakness of intellect. Of course, in rest and sleep, the thumb, like the other parts of the body, is passive, and in portraying sleep, fatigue, or death, the thumb should be relaxed. Point upward, downward, forward, outward, at the side, and inward across the body, with the arm in various attitudes. Use expressions like "Look at this table !" In carrying the hand outward at the side be careful that the outward movement is edgewise, or, as we say, that the edge of the hand leads. A graceful gesture is always made in the easiest manner. The edge of the hand, like the bow of a boat, passes through the air with the least resistance ; the palm, on the contrary, seems to push away the air by sheer force. It is plain that the edgewise movement will appear more graceful and easy to the eye of the beholder, while the palm leading gives an impression of greater strength because seeming to overcome ACTIONS OF THE HAND. 119 greater resistance, or, at least, being capable of over- coming it if it were present. The back of the hand is the weakest as the palm is the strongest side of the hand, and all gestures in which the back of the hand leads seem weak and ineffective. Avoid, therefore, leading with the back of the hand, unless you intend to give an impression of weakness. II. — Beckoning. Beckon with the hand, that is, indicate yourself. " I myself ;" " come here !" III. — Admiration. Lift the hand, palm outward, with gentle activity of the fingers, much as if you would caress something before you, or, more strongly, as if to exhibit some- thing on your palm. This expresses admiration, pleas- ure in something before you in reality or in imagina- tion ; with very gentle action it shows a wish to caress the object. " It was magnificent !" " How beautiful she is 1" " How soft and warm ! " IY. — Repulsion. Raise the hand, palm outward, with all the fingers active and spread apart, as if -to ward off something from the body. This is the attitude of sudden surprise or fear, or whenever there is a feeling of repulsion or desire to 120 THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. ward off something. ' ' Oh ! " u ugh, " " disgusting, ' ' "keep off." Combine actions and attitudes of the head with these gestures. EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot ; And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out— Holmes. Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies ; — Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower ; — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.— Tennyson. Beneath a rose, as morning broke, An angel from his sleep awoke. Pleased with the flower above his head, So fair and beautiful, he said : " Thy fragrance and thy cooling shade Have doubly sweet my slumbers made. "Fairest of flowers on earth that grow, Ask what you will, and I'll bestow. " " Grant, then," it cried, "I'll ask no more, Some charm no flower has known before I " The angel first seemed at a loss, Then clothed the bush in simple moss. And lo ! the moss rose stood confessed, A lovelier flower than all the rest. — " The Moss Rose." lessoe: xxxii Articulation. — Continued. The middle of the tongue rises to form the conso- nant y. K and g are formed by the shutting together and recoil of the back of the tongue and the soft-palate. Ng is the nasal sound in this position. S and sh are hissing sounds made through the nearly closed teeth. Z and zh are buzzing sounds in much the same posi- tion. {Zh represents the sound of z in azure and of g in rouge. ) Tsh is the best representation of the sound of eh in chin, church, much. Dzh is the sound of j and soft g in Jane, age. Kw is the sound of q in queer. Ks is the sound of x in vex, text. Many consonants stand for different sounds. It will be found that the list we have given covers the entire- field, the various letters and combinations omitted being simply duplicates of these. Thus : ch hard in choir is the sound of k; c is either s or k according as it is hard or soft, as in cinder, cat. 121 122 THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. H is not usually regarded as a true consonant, being simply a rough breathing, or aspiration, as it is called. Compare hat, at, oyster, hoister, etc. Th is not an aspirated t, but a separate sound having its own definite position of the tongue. So ph is not aspirated^, but/! Vocal Exercises. — Continued. For Forward Placing of the Voice. 1. Hum very softly the sound m. Open the mouth very gently, still keeping the soft humming sound. 2. Practise the hum with open mouth at the begin- ning. 3. Practise in combination with the various vowel - sounds, thus : m — a, m — o, prolonging both the hum- ming sound and the vowel. 4. With full voice explode the sounds ma, ma, mo, as directed in Lesson XXIX. 5. Also use la, td, Id, to, both softly and loudly. "With no break in the soft humming sound, make a series of vowels like a a e o do with the slightest pos- sible action of the agents of articulation. 6. Practise crescendos and diminuendos; that is, in- creasing and diminishing the volume of sounds without changing the quality of the voice. To the Teacher :— The proper sensation here should be of a warm current of air passing through the face ; or, in other words, of gentle vibration of the resonators. Enlarge this a r ea. of vibration until it includes both head and chest. Test by- closing the nostrils ; if the tone is properly placed, this will not interfere with it. VOCAL EXERCISES. m EXAMPLES FOE VOICE -PLACING AM) BREATH -CONTROL. Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes ; Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change • Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : {Burden) Ding-dong — Hark ! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell. — Shakespeare. "Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie. There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After Summer, merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. — Sha kesjyeare 1st Fairy. You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Chorus. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby ; Lulla. lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla. lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh : So, good-night, with lullaby. 1st Fairy. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence ! Beetles black, approach not near ; Worm nor snail, do no offence, Chorcs. Philomel, with melody, etc.— Shakespeare. LESSON XXXIII. Actions of the Hand.— Continued. Y. — Appeal. Extend the hand in front, with palm up, fingers active, as if to take something. " Give it to me." This is the action of appeal. It is appropriate not only to a request for some object, but to all questions of appeal, such as " am I not right ?" " won't you do it?" and even to simple interrogations. "VT. — Rejection. With the hand extended in front, palm down, as if covering a flat surface, move the hand sideways out- ward, as if trying to push something away with tho outer edge of the hand. This is rejection, denial, negation. " Take it away,' "nonsense," " pshaw," "I don't believe it." This ac- tion is stronger when the palm is " from earth," that is, as in IY. It is then called demonstrative rejection. YIL — Declaration. Fold the hand slightly toward the body as in II., but without special activity of the forefinger; then 124 ACTIONS OF THE HAND. 125 carry the hand outward at the side until the palm is toward the audience, as if to show that you have nothing concealed in or about your hand. This is declaration, revelation. " It is so," " you can see for yourself." VIII. — Declaration ivith Surrender. As in V., but with a downward inclination of the hand as well. This is a declarative movement with surrender. " You are right," "I acknowledge it," " I was wrong," "I give it up." (The downward tendency of the hand is in proportion to the degree of surrender, the out- ward to that of revelation.) IX. — Concealment. Place the hand upon the body, as if to conceal or caress some part of it. This is the opposite of VII. and VIII. It is the ac- tion of apprehension, concealment, self-caress. When we feel pain the hand seeks the suffering part in this way. Practise all the foregoing movements until the hand is flexible and free. At first relax the hand com- pletely between the gestures, but when the gestures have been thoroughly learned separately, practise them in a connected series in the order in which they have been given, and in other combinations, i.e., (1) indicate, (2) beckon, (3) admire or caress, (4) repel, (5) 126 THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. appeal, (6) deny, (7) reveal, (8) surrender, (9) conceal. Practise with each hand until gesture is as natural with one as with the other. Numbers 2 to 9 may be prac- tised with both hands together. Finally, practise these actions from the elbow — that is, moving the forearm as well as the hand. Be careful to observe the proper order of movement, namely, the forearm moves first, then the hand. The hand is surrendered until the forearm is nearly in its place, then the hand acts as before. EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. Oh ! then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. She conies, In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses, as they lie asleep. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner, Squirrel, or old Grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat ; And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love. On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight , O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees , O'er ladies' lips, whc straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, VOCAL EXERCISES. 127 And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ; And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose that lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice , Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep : and then, anon, Drums in his ear— at which he starts and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two. And sleeps again. — Shakespeare. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death ? The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour — The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest ; Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined, Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. — Gray. 12* THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. Up, up ! my friend, and quit your books, Or surely you'll grow double ; Up, up I my friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble ? The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books ! 'tis a dull and endless strife ; Come, hear the woodland linnet ; How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. — Wordsworth. LESSOH XXIY. Pitch, Movement, and Volume. All light, unconstrained feelings manifest themselves by high pitch and more or less rajrid movement. Merrily swinging od briar and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame ; Over the mountain-side or mead Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.— Bryant. Serious, dignified expression, on the other hand, calls for self-restraint ; therefore, the movement will be slower, the pitch lower, and the pauses more frequent and longer in proportion to the degree of seriousness or dignity. Yery solemn or sad expression would have low tone and very slow movement. PITCH, MOVEMENT, AND VOLUME. 129 How long, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience ? How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career?— Cicero. To be — or not to be — that is the question. — Shakespeare. Break, break, break, At the foot of the crags, O sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. — Tennyson. In excitement the movement is abrupt withy frequent pauses. And lo ! — as he looks — on the belfry's height A glimmer — and then a gleam of light 1 A hurry of hoofs in a village street — A shape in the moonlight — a bulk in the dark — And beneath— from the pebbles in passing — a spark — Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet. — Longfellow. In unemotional reading we have medium pitch and rate, that is, the pitch and rate of ordinary con- versation. There is one accomplishment, in particular, which I would ear- nestly recommend to you. Cultivate assiduously the ability to read well. Where one person is really interested by music, twenty are pleased by good reading. Where one person is capable of becoming a skilful musician, twenty may become good readers. — Hart. With regard to the volume or loudness of the voice, it may be said that, in general, the ordinary speaking- voice is sufficient. In shrieking, calling, shouting, cheering, and the expression of unrestrained anger or defiance, the volume may be very great, but even here do not try to stun your hearers. Never mistake noise or bluster for intensity. True feeling does not manifest itself by explosive utterance. In gentle, THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON, subdued emotions, the voice is soft and musical, whilst in awe, secrec} T , and fear, it sinks almost and sometimes quite to a whisper. Kemember that in speaking in a large hall, it is necessary to allow time for the voice to reach every person in the audience, so we should speak more slowly than when at home, or in the school-room. If we are careful to do this, we need not shout nor strain the voice, but we can use our every-day conver- sational tone and be perfectly at ease. Do not speak in a measured and stilted manner at any time, but keep the same proportion between im- portant and unimportant words as in ordinary con- versation. It is best to talk, for the most part, to that portion of the audience that is farthest from you. In that way you will learn to " project " the tone so that the words are carried distinctly everywhere. If there is an echo, speak more softly and slowly than usual. Always begin quietly, so that you feel a sense of reserve power. Carefully avoid diminishing the volume of the voice in any phrase after the emphatic word has been reached. To give the remaining words with less than the previous degree of strength gives an impression of physical weakness, as if the breath had given out. Of course, this rule does not apply to instances where that especial effect is desired. Do not interpret what has been said here to mean that the volume of the voice is never to vary. In all PITCH, MOVEMENT, AND VOLUME. 131 strong, vital emotions there will be a more or less grad- ual increase of volume corresponding to the crescendo in music, culminating on the emphatic word. In very tender emotions the volume may gradually diminish until the emphatic word is reached. Compare ' ' How I hate you " with ' ' How I love you. " By this time your studies have shown you many examples of what is called emotional emphasis — that is, expression which brings out the feelings of the speaker, as well as the ideas in his mind. All of the elements of expression are means of portraying emotion. You should use these means wherever they are appro- priate, but always try to really feel what you would express and express only what you feel. This is the secret of natural delivery. One may cultivate and control the emotions just as one develops the intellectual powers. Moreover, in so doing we learn the lesson of self-mastery, which is far more important than the most perfect expression. Notice that in many of the following examples many single words have an emotional meaning of their own. Such are ' ' lazy, " " dawdling, ' ' " awful, " " angry, ' ' ' ' holy. ' ' The same rules of expression apply to these as to phrases and sentences. The tense or relaxed states of the body, and especially of the pharynx or back of the mouth, have much to do with emotional expression. In love and pleasure, gen- erally, we draw in our words and linger over them, while we expel more or less violently words that express un- ■■* 132 THIR TY-FO UR TH LESSON. pleasant things. Compare beautiful, gentle, noble, kmd, holy, with bestial, disgusting, contemptible, nauseous, hideous, or with expletives, bah, pshaw, and the like. EXAMPLES OF TRANSITION IN EXPRESSION. Never a horse a jockey would worship and admire Like Flash in front of the engine a-racing to the fire ; Never a horse so lazy, so dawdling, and so slack, As Flash upon his return trip, a-drawing the engine back. — Carletoru The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry ! Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.— Campbell. Hush ! hark ! did stealing steps go by ? Came not faint whispers near ? No ! The wild wind hath many a sigh amid the foliage sere. Hark ! yet again ! — and from his hand what grasp hath wrenched the blade ? Oh, single 'midst a hostile band, young soldier, thou'rt betrayed ! ' ' Silence ! " in undertones they cry ; "no whisper — not a breath ! The sound that warns thy comrades nigh shall sentence thee to death ! " Still at the bayonet's point he stood, and strong to meet the blow; And shouted, 'midst his rushing blood, "Arm! arm! Auvergne! the foe ! " The stir, the tramp, the bugle -call, he heard their tumults grow ; And sent his dying voice through all, "Auvergne! Auvergne! the foe! "~-Mr§, Hemans. FULL- ARM GESTURES. 133 Old Master Brown brought his ferule down : His face was angry and red : " Anthony Blair, go sit you there Among the girls, " he said. So Anthony Blair, with a mortified air, And his head hung down on his breast, Went right away and sat all day With the girl who loved him best. LESSOH XXXY. Full-Arm Gestures. Full-arm gestures are appropriate where there is great earnestness, strong feeling, or ,when addressing an audi- ence of any size. We have an almost infinite number of expressive actions of the arm, but a few examples will suffice to illustrate right and wrong ways of making them. One of the most common faults is not observing the proper order of movement, which is : First, upper arm ; second, forearm; finally, the hand and fingers. An- other fault is to finish the gesture with the arm only partly developed, ' ' broken, ' ' as we sometimes say (Fig. 5). Exercise I. Indication {palm up). Select an object at the side. Remember that the actions of the eye and head precede that of the arm. 134 THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. 1. liaise the upper arm, letting the rest of the arm hang lifeless, until the ;••» 5—«~-y elbow points in the cli- « — :.. r ^^ rection of the object. / 2. Straighten the fore- arm, at the same time turning it at the elbow so that the hand, which still remains passive, is Q . is. moved edgewise until the wrist is "from earth/' bringing the palm up. 3. Straighten out the hand with the forefinger point- ing as described in Lesson XXXI. Use every-day ex- pressions, like " look at that," " take a chair." Exercise II. Indication {palm dozen). This is a more active expression than the former . one. In pointing out objects at a great distance, or where is/_ m there is great earnestness, ex- FlG - 19 - citement or command, we use this form of indication ; the other is more easy and trustful. The order of action is as before, but with the outer edge of the hand leading instead of the inner. (Fig. 18.) " Go !" " Who is it leans from the belfry with face upturned to the sky?" FULL- ARM GESTURES. 135 Practise these until the three movements blend gracefully. Be very careful not to overdo the move- ments or add affected curves to the forearm and hand movements. Make every gesture as simple as possible. Exercise III. Indication of Self — Folding Movement. Here the arm folds in instead of developing out- ward. With the arm hanging at the side : (a) Turn the arm slightly, bringing the palm out- ward, at the same time carrying the elbow out a very little distance from the body. (Fig. 20.) (b) Fold the hand so as to bring the fingers point- ing toward the part to be indicated. (Fig. 21.) (c) Fold the forearm, at the same time raising the upper arm and carrying it out from the body, until the fingers touch the spot you wish to indicate. (Fig. 22.) 136 THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. Study the movements separately, then blend them. Indicate various parts of the body, using appropri- ate expressions, for instance : touching the forehead with the forefinger, "let me see;" touching the lips, " hush ;" pressing the palm against the heart, "Oh, I have suffered with fio. 28. those that I saw suf- fer ;" touching the side of the nose with the forefin- ger, "Joey B. is sly, sir." Fig. 23 illustrates an indi- cation preceded by a folding movement. Where there is strong personal feeling, gestures are often begun in this way, mental gestures starting from the head, emo- tional gestures, love, indignation, etc., from the chest or heart region, vital gestures from the waist. Exekcise IV. Suspense. An attitude of the hand and arm which often accom- panies the attitude of susjDense or hesitation in the legs is that in which the hand is drawn in toward the body, the palm downward, the fingers spread well apart, and the elbow active, very much as in Fig. 26, but with the hand much nearer the line of the waist, and not quite so near the body. Fig. 33 is also an example of another and stronger form of suspensive action, indicating a tendency to repel. These attitudes FULL-ARM GESTURES. 137 always go finally into some fully developed gesture, varying, of course, according to the emotion that suc- ceeds the state of suspense. Exercise V. Returning to Rest. In bringing the arm to rest again after one or more gestures, if the last gesture has been a folding move- ment, simply unfold again in inverse order (c, b, a) and let the arm fall back in a relaxed position ; if the ges- ture is an extended one, turn the forearm until the wrist is downward, " to earth," if not already in that position, then relax the arm, still holding the hand in position, and sink the wrist ; let the arm drop at the side, the wrist drawing the hand after it. Practise this slowly until control is gained. Prac- tise also carrying the arm from side to side, the hand following the movement of the arm in the same way, just as a handkerchief waved to and fro follows the hand. Practise all the gestures described in Lessons XXXI. and XXXIII. with full-arm movements. To the Teacher: — In all gestures made with one hand only, except the very lightest, there is a tendency in the less active hand to sympathize with the action of the other, either by acting in op- position, in less demonstrative parallelism, or by taking an atti- tude expressive of the emotion that prompts the gesture. This action of the weak hand is called the supporting gesture. To enter upon the study of these gestures in detail would be beyond the limits that I have assigned myself in the preparation of this book. The supporting action will be strong in proportion to the strength of the principal gesture. Encourage the pupils in the THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. greatest freedom of movement. If there is genuine feeling be- hind the gesture, the supporting movement or attitude will take care of itself. See that it does not contradict the gesture, and at least insist on a corresponding attitude of the hand if there is reluctance on the part of the pupil to go further. The knowl- edge and ingenuity of the teacher must supplement the instruc- tions given here as elsewhere. The voice and example of a good instructor are worth more than any written description of an exercise. Caution pupils against making too many gestures and against extravagant action. For instance, in declaration the arms may rise through all degrees of altitude to a considerable angle above the line of the shoulders, yet in ordinary expression an angle of thirty to forty-five degrees from the perpendicular is amply sufficient, and often, especially in conversation, the arm hardly more than pivots so as to bring the palm out. Teach your scholars thai a gesture is a strong form of emphasis, and must be reserved for a climax, and, except in very light, trivial emo- tions, must be sustained until the end of the sentence in which it occurs, unless superseded by another action. LESSON XXXVI. Oppositions of the Head and Arms. If we wish to be sure that the person whom we ad- dress in Indication sees the object indicated, we look back from it to him, still pointing toward the object. For instance, in pointing out an object at the right, we would turn the head toward it ; but w T hen the arm began to move toward the object, the head would begin to turn back toward the person addressed. When the head and arm move in the same direction, they are said to have parallel motion. When, as described above, the head and arm move in opposite directions OPPOSITIONS OF THE HEAD AND ARMS. 139 at the same time, they are said to be in opposition, or to oppose each other. Law : Parallel movements should be successive, opposing- movements should be simultaneous. If the head and arm move in the same direction to- gether, the appearance to the beholder is often very ridiculous and always awkward. When, on the con- trary, opposing movements follow each other, the action seems to drag, and the harmony of the gesture is destroyed. The law applies to the whole body. When we draw back as in fear, the hand and arm go toward the object; when the baud is drawn back, the body advances. If there is parallel action, as in greet- ing a friend, the body and arm both advancing, be careful that the movements are always successive, the body first, the arm succeeding. Exercise I. Indication with Opposition of Head and Arm. (Figs. 24, 25.) Order of Movement. First, the eye and head turn toward the object, then as the arm begins to rise to its position, or " develop," as we sometimes say, the head and eyes return to their original position, or, if we are addressing a particular individual, until the gaze is fixed upon him. The arm is fully developed just as the eye and hand finish their return movement, so that both come to rest at the same time. With folding movement, fold as the head is turning toward the object. 140 THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. Fig. 24. Exercise II. Rejection, or Denial. (Figs. 26, 27.) Action of head and eye as in .Indication, the arm in front, folding it toward the body while the head turns toward the object rejected. As the head returns, the arm moves outward at the side as if pushing some- thing away. This may be practised with the edge and with the palm. Tne edge is more graceful, while the palm gives the impression of greater strength being exerted. In the lighter forms of rejection, the arm hardly folds at all, but starts out at once from its position at the side. OPPOSITIONS OF THE HEAD AND ARMS. 141 EXEKCISE III. Rejection of Trifles. Kejection of trifles is made with the weakest part of the hand, i.e., the back, and either outward or up- ward. The latter is the more contemptuous action. In all oppositions, the degree of action in the head is in direct proportion to that of the arm. The head inclines or pivots from the object according to the strength of feeling. The inclination of the head is less powerful than the pivot. In rejection of trifles the action of the head will be slight ; in fact, the eye alone is often sufficient for this gesture. 142 THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON, Exercise . IV. Affirmation. (Figs. 28, 29, 30.) Here the action is up and down instead of outward. The arm first folds as in self-indication, but without bringing the hand quite so near to the body, while the head bows toward it. Then the head rises to the normal attitude, or is even lifted in strong affirmation, while the arm unfolds, finishing its gesture with the palm open toward the audience. Practise this as well as the preceding with three degrees of emphasis : (1) moderate ; (2) with consider- able energy ; (3) with head uplifted and arm extended OPPOSITIONS OF THE HEAD AND ARMS, 143 straight downward at the front, with the hand fully expanded. Practise also bringing the edge of the hand instead of the palm toward the audience. This is definition, or the teacher's affirmation, and is appro- priate to quiet, earnest moods of the mind. Also with clinched fist. This affirmation is appropriate to anger, defiance, and the like. Exercise V. Assertion. (Figs. 31, 32.) The head rises, the eye seeking heaven, then returns to the audience while the arm is lifted. 144 THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. Practise this with forefinger pointing upward and with open palm. The former is intellectual, the latter more emotional, open-hearted, strong. Exercise VI. Repulsion. (Figs. 33, 34.) The hands are thrust out as if to push something away, while the whole body draws back and turns away as if shrinking from some dreaded or displeasing object. Of course, the strength of the action will depend upon the degree of repugnance. It may vary from playful, or pretended repulsion to that caused by ex- OPPOSITIONS OF THE HEAD AND ARMS. 145 treme fear. Remember to draw back the hips more than the shoulders. Practise in various directions : in front, at the sides, upward, and downward, keeping the eye fixed on the object, and also turning the face away, as if unable to endure the sight. EXAMPLES FOE PRACTICE. It is only the pure fountain that brings forth pure water. The good tree only will produce the good fruit. If the centre from which all proceeds is pure and holy, the radii of influence from it will be pure and holy also. Go forth, then, into the spheres that you occupy, the employments, the trades, the professions of social life ; go forth into the high places or into the lowly places of the land ; mix with the roaring cataracts of social convulsions, or mingle amid the eddys and streamlets of quiet and domestic life ; whatever sphere you fill, carrying into it a holy heart, you will radiate around you life and power, and leave behind you holy and beneficent influences. — Gumming. Up from the meadows, rich with corn, Clear, in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand, Green- walled by the hills of Maryland. — Whittier. " Come back, come back, Horatius! " loud cried the fathers all. " Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!" — Macaulay. " The olde sea-wall (he cried) is downe; The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place. " He shook as one that looks on death . v God save you, mother ! " straight he saith; " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ? " 146 THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. A moment there was awful pause- When Berkeley cried, ' ' Cease, traitor ! cease ; God's temple is the house of peace ! " The other shouted, ' ' Nay, not so, When God is with our righteous cause ; His holiest places then are ours." — T. B. Read. Brutus. How ill this taper burns ! Ha ! who comes here ? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me. Art thou anything ? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare ? Speak to me what thou art. Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. Bru. Why comest thou ? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. Bru. Well ; then I shall see thee again ? Ghost. Aye, at Philippi Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. [Exit Ghost.] Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest : 111 spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius ! — Shakespeare. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying pros- pects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind ! When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or DIFFICULT ARTICULATION. 147 polluted, nor a single star obscured— bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as " What is all this worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly, "Liberty first, and Union afterwards "—but everywhere, spread all over in charac- ters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment — dear to every true American heart — Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and insepa- rable ! — Webster. LESSOK XXXYTI. Aj-ticulation. — Continued. — Difficult Combinations. The following list of words and sentences contains specimens of nearly every difficult combination of conso- nant-sounds that you are likely to meet in reading. Some are, of course, very rarely found, but all should be practised in order to attain flexibility and accuracy in the use of the agents of articulation. Acts, facts, lists, ghosts, depths, droop' st, adopts, fifths, laughst, hookst, desks, satst, help'st, twelfths, thefts, milk'st, halt'st, limp'st, attemptst, want'st, thinkst, warpst, dwarfst, hurtst, sixths, eighths, texts, protects, still' st, sparkl'st, waken' st, robb'st, £,midst, width, digg'st, rav'st, writh'st, prob'dst, hundredths, begg'dst, besieg'dst, catch' dst, troubl'st, trifi'st, shov'lst, kindl'st, struggl'st, puzzl'st, shieldst, revolv'st, help'dst, trembl'dst, trill' dst, shov'ldst, involv'dst, twinkl'dst, fondl'dst, dazzl'dst, rattl'dst, send'st, wak'n'dst, mad- 148 THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON d 5 n'dst, ligkten'dst, ripen'dst, hearken'dst, doom'dst, o'erwhelm'dsts, absorbst, regard'st, curb'dst, hurl'dst, charrn'dst, returu'dst, starv'dst, strength'ns, strength 'n'd, wrong'dst, lengthen'dst, sooth'dst, act'st, lift'st, melt'st, hurt'st, wani'st, shout'st, toucli'd, parcli'd, help'dst, bark'dst, prorapt'st, touch'dst, rattl'st. Put the cut pumpkin in a pipkin. Coop up the cook. A big mad dog bit bad Bob. Keep the tiprjet ticket Kate hates tight tapes. Geese cackle, cattle low, crows caw, cocks crow. The bleak breeze blighted the bright broom blossoms. Dick dipped the tippet and dripped it. Giddy Kittie's tawdry gewgaws. The need}* needlewoman needn't wheedle. Fetch the poor fellow's feather pillow. A very watery western vapor. Six thick thistle sticks. She says she shall sew a sheet. The sun shines on the shop signs. A shock- ing sottish set of shopmen. A short soft shot-silk sash. A silly shatter-brained chatterbox. Fetch six chaises. She thrust it through the thatch. Thrice the shrew threw the shoe. The slow snail's slime. I- snuff shop snuff, do you snuff shop snuff ? She sells seashells. Some shun sunshine. The sweep's suitably sooty suit. A rural ruler. Truly rural. Literally literary. Rober^ loudly rebuked Richard, who ran lustily roar- ing round the lobby. His right leg lagged in the race. Amidst the mists with angry boasts he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts. Around the rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. DIFFICULT ARTICULATION. 140 Theophilus Thistle, the successful Thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb ; now if Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter, My dame has a lame tame crane, My dame has a crane that is tame ; Oh, pray, gentle Jane, Let my dame's lame tame crane Drink and come home again. Laid in the cold ground [not coal ground]. Half I see the panting spirit sigh [not spirit's eye]. Be the same in thine own act and valor as thou art in desire [not thy known]. Oh, the torment of an ever-meddling memory [not a never meddling]. All night it lay an ice-drop there [not a nice drop]. Oh, studied deceit [not study]. A sad dangler [not angler]. Goodness centres in the heart [not enters]. His crime moved me [not cry]. Chaste stars [not chase tars]. She could pain nobody [not pay]. Make clean our hearts [not lean]. His beard descending swept his aged breast [not beer]. Did you say ten minutes to wail* or ten minutes to eight ? A sore eye saw I. Why y V Thou straightest, fastest strokes struck'dst, Stephen. 150 THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. To the Teacher : — Many of the above sentences have been taken from Pro f . Bell's excellent work, " The Principles of Elocu- tion," to which I am glad to refer all teachers who wish to be abreast of the times in our art. Be careful that pupils do not overdo the sound of s so frequent in many of these combinations; in combinations like sts, in lasts, posts, etc., the difficulty is not with the s, but to bring out properly the t. The separation of similar sounds, as of two s's in succession, can only be effected by an instant of perfect jaw- relaxation between them. It is taken for granted that the teacher understands the actions of the various agents of articulation sufficiently well to be able to point out such technical exercises for overcoming special defi- ciencies as may be necessaiy in addition to those I have given. LESSON XXXVIII. Facial Expression. The forehead, eyes, nose and mouth are the agents of facial expression. Facial expression comes in or- der of succession before gestures of any part. The face is next the brain, and is the first part to receive impressions from it. A smooth forehead denotes calmness, serenity. The brow drawn down and contracted indicates mental concentration, perplexity, antagonism, resistance to pain, according to the degree of contraction. The brow lifted indicates interested or eager attention, surprise. The brow lifted and contracted denotes sorrow, grief, patient endurance of mental or physical suffering. The brow rises with the " patient shrug." FACIAL EXPRESSION. 151 We have already discussed the eye in previous les- sons. The NOSE has few actions, and is not capable of many changes. It is the centre of the face, and like the torso, which is the centre of the body, must main- tain a dignity commensurate with its position. The nostrils expand in strong emotions to allow more air to enter the lungs. A large, open nostril is always a sign of strong vitality ; a pinched or contracted nostril denotes physical weakness. One nostril drawn up in- dicates disgust, contempt ; both nostrils drawn up is the bearing of a mean, evil-minded person. The mouth is the most expressive feature. Orators have large mouths as a rule. A small mouth shows a delicate, refined, but not powerful nature. We will consider the lips and lower jaw, which give the mouth its expression, separately. Thin lips are cold, unemotional ; thick, protruding lips are sensual, coarse. The lips drawn in indicate concentration, primness, severity ; protruded slightly they indicate affection ; they are protruded and con- tracted, much as in whistling, when we are exercising the judgment, discrimination. The pout is a rejection by the lips ; in great disgust we act precisely as if we were trying to get rid of a disagreeable substance in the mouth. The lips drawn down at the corners indi- cate sadness, disappointment, melancholy ; the corners are drawn up in pleasurable emotions. One side of 152 THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. the lip drawn up corresponds to and accompanies the contemptuous action of the nose. A strong lower jaw shows strength, firmness of character ; a receding jaw, weakness. The jaw is set firmly in self-control, resistance, antagonism ; it relaxes in pleasure, and opens in admiration, surprise, fear and terror. It hangs lifelessly in weakness, prostra- tion, imbecility, despair. The jaw advances in threat- ening, anger, hatred. Observe that almost all the conditions described in this lesson may be bearings, indicating various types of character. Do not be too hasty in judging your as- sociates by these hints ; there are sometimes strange exceptions to general rules. Socrates, for instance, one of the greatest and noblest of all men, was in ap- pearance almost repulsive. We may do much to over- come natural defects by the exercise of the will, and many men have conquered inborn tendencies of the most unlovely character while still retaining the stamp that nature placed on them at birth. So, many naturally symmetrical natures have allowed themselves to be warped out of all true moral poise, and yet to the superficial observer have lost little of their exter- nal beauty. Remember that " 'tis the mind that makes the body rich" or poor, as the case may be. To the Teacher :— The pupils should work out the facial ex- pression of a giveu emotion, say surprise, indicating, the ex- pression of each part, then adding the proper attitudes or actions of the torso and limbs. More advanced pupils may- employ themselves with complex emotions, such as surprise with hatred, with fear, with joy; joy with humility, affection, arro- FACIAL EXPRESSION. 163 gance, and the almost infinite number of similar combina- tions. My purpose in reserving the consideration of this sub- ject until the last (and, indeed, I had some doubts as to the advisability of saying as much as I have on the subject), is that untrained pupils are very apt to overdo facial expression if they undertake it at all in the beginning. I have felt that these subtile manifestations would develop themselves nat- urally in connection with the broader phases of gesture and attitude previously discussed, provided those have been accompanied by the proper inward impulse, without which no expression, however studied, seems spontaneous. I have inserted this matter at the request of several teachers whose experience has differed from mine in this respect, and who find that many of their pupils have no facial expression at all. But I implore all teachers to be exceedingly careful to discourage the writhings of the lips, scowls, affected eleva- tions of the brows, and fine-frenzy-rolling eyes, with which so many would-be dramatic readers afflict their unfortunate audiences. EXAMPLES FOR FACIAL EXPRESSION. The one with yawning made reply : "What have we seen ? — Not much have I ! Trees, meadows, mountains, groves and streams, Blue sky and clouds and sunny gleams." The other, smiling, said the same ; But with face transfigured and eye of flame : "Trees, meadows, mountains, groves and streams! Blue sky and clouds and sunny gleams! " — Brooks But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell Did ye not hear it ? No ; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance ! Let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks m once more. As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm ! arm ! It is — it is the cannon's opening roar ! — Byron. 154 THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. Prop yer eyes wide open, Joey, Fur I've brought you sumpin great. Apples ? No, a heap sight better ! Don't you take no int'rest ? Wait ! Flowers, Joe — I know'd you'd like 'em — Ain't them scrumptious ? Ain't them high ? Tears, my boy ? Wot's them fur, Joey ? There — poor little Joe !— don't cry \—Peleg Arkwright. We are two travellers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog. Come here, you scamp. Jump for the gentlemen — mind your eye ! Over the table— look out for the lamp ! The rogue is growing a little old : Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out doors when nights were cold, And ate, and drank, and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you : A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow, The paw he holds up there has been frozen), Plenty of catgut for my fiddle ( This out-door business is bad for strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings. No, thank you, sir, I never drink. Roger and I are exceedingly moral, Aren't we, Roger ? See him wink. Well, something hot then, we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too — see him nod his head. What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk ; He understands every word that's said, And he knows good milk from water and chalk. — Trowbridge, " The Vagabonds." SH^Oce {aside}. How like a fawning nublican he looks ! I hate him. for he is a Christian ! If I can catch him once upon the hip I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. Cursed be my tribe DESCRIPTION, 155 If I forgive him ! [To Antonio.] Eest you fair, good signior ; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. — Shakespeare. Macbeth. Didst thou not hear a noise ? Lady Macbeth. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you speak ? Macb. When ? Lady M. Now. Macb. As I descended ? Lady M. Ay. Macb. Hark ! "Who lies i' the second chamber ? Lady M. Donalbain. — Shakespeare. LESSOH XXXIX. Description. Pantomime has another office besides expressing emotions; it is very useful in assisting us to convey vivid impressions of what we may be describing. This function is called imitation or description. Gestures of indication are descriptive in their character. We convey impressions of great size, volume, majesty, by broad expansion of the arms; we bring the tips of the fingers of both hands near together to describe small, insignificant objects ; when using one hand, the thumb touching the little finger suggests very tiny objects. 156 THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. Actions that we call functional, like pushing, pull- ing, hammering, twisting, the action of the hand in writing, playing an instrument, waving a handker- chief, and a hundred others, are used imitatively. The tremolo of the hand — that is, a rapid movement to and fro sideways — suggests many similar tremu- lous movements in nature, the ripple of water, of sun- shine, the movement of the leaves. The tremolo should be very delicate, and requires much flexibility at the wrist. All emotional manifestations are used imitatively when we describe an emotion in another. Descrip- tive actions of all kinds must not be overdone. Broad description is allowable only in comedy. In serious reading suggest rather than imitate: the more delicate the suggestion the more artistic will be your expres- sion. The voice also has an imitative function. All re- productions of peculiar qualities, as of an old man's voice, nasal, throaty, or flat tones, the vocal character- istics of different nations and races, are vocal imita- tions. The volume of the voice is sometimes made use of imitatively, the tone becoming more sonorous in describing grandeur, majesty, and more than usu- allv delicate in suggesting delicate things. TVe often hear vocal imitations of various sounds in nature, the calls of animals, chirping of birds, the vibration of bells, and the like. Use imitation sparingly. It is very essential in description, as, indeed, in all DESCRIPTION. 157 recitation, that you yourself see vividly the picture or scene that you wish to portray. Cultivate your im- agination until each object and person in your story appears as clearly before your mind's eye as if you had at some time actually seen them. You should be able to describe the dress and peculiarities of appear- ance of a character even in many details that the au- thor has not suggested, and fill out the barest outline of a scene with mountains, trees, houses, furniture, or whatever would be appropriate to it. Have, too, a definite locality for everything in your picture. Do .not place a thing at your left that a moment before was at your right, nor one at your feet that was just now a hundred yards away. Bear in mind, however, that whenever you, as spectator, are supposed to change your position, everything in the picture also changes its position relative to you. For instance, in the opening lines of " Barbara Frietchie " the spectator describes the village of Frederick and its surroundings from an imaginary distance of several miles, but soon he finds himself in the village itself. Generally when one person takes two characters, as would be done in reciting the tent scene in " Julius Csesar," it is customary to indicate the change from one character to the other by a change in the direction of attention ; that is, if Brutus is speaking toward the left, Cassius, who is supposed to be on that side of the platform, would speak, when his turn came, toward the right. In impersonation, as in reciting dialogues, 158 THIRTY-NINTH LESSON we do not speak to the audience, but to the imaginary Brutus or Cassius, a little to one side. In descriptive recitation, narrative or address, we keep the attention directed toward the audience, simply glancing at the objects or persons described, and looking back at once toward the audience, but sustaining the gesture, if any is used, until the verbal description is complete. We have said that an attitude of the body should always be sustained until the emotion prompting it is superseded by another emotion ; so a gesture, which, if sustained at all, becomes at once an attitude, is subject to the same law. Be careful to locate objects and persons at the side rather than directly in front, where your audience is. An angle of from thirty to forty-five degrees to the right or left is usually the most convenient one for descriptive purposes. To the Teacher :— Descriptive expression is valuable, both as a means of developing imagination and of giving command of gesture, but should not be carried too far. A very common fault with readers is the too frequent use of descriptive expression in emotional passages. The more ideal the poem, or the greater the strength of the subjective element, the further should be the expression from the literal. In recitation or oratory, pantomime of any sort should be reserved always for that which the words cannot fully express ; otherwise it is an impertinence. Any- thing in voice or action that distracts the attention of the audience from the matter to the manner defeats the purpose of the speaker. There is, however, an emotional manner of performing a descriptive or a functional action that may redeem it from the appearance of artificiality, but the consid- eration of such delicate points of expression is out of place in this manual. DESCRIPTION. 159 EXAMPLES OF DESCRIPTION AND SUGGESTION. Though rudely blows the wintry blast, And sifting snows fall white and fast, Mark Haley drives along the street, Perched high upon his wagon seat : His sombre face the storm defies ; And thus from morn till eve he cries— " Charco' ! charco' ! " While echo faint and far replies — "Charco' ! "— " hark O ! "—Such cheery sounds Attend him on his daily rounds. — Trowbridge. A million little diamonds twinkled on the trees ; A million little maidens said: " A jewel, if you please." But while they held their hands outstretched to catch the dia- monds gay, A million little sunbeams came and stole them all away. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced ; the old flag met his sight. "Halt! " — the dust-brown ranks sto6d fast; "Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle -blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash, It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell from the broken staff, Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out un the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will.— Whittier. I want free life and I want fresh air ; And I sigh for the canter after the cattle, The crack of the whips like shots in battle, The melee of horns, and hoofs, and heads, That wars and wrangles and scatters and spreads; The green beneath and the blue above, And dash and danger and life and love— And Lasca \—Desprez. 1 60 THIR TY-NINTH LESSON. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar. — Pope, Collecting, projecting, receding and speeding, And shocking and rocking, and darting and parting, And threading and spreading, and whizzing and hissing, And dripping and skipping, and hitting and splitting, And shining and twining, and rattling and battling, And shaking and quaking, and pouring and roaring, And waving and raving, and tossing and crossing, And flowing and going, and running and stunning, And foaming and roaming, and dinning and spinning, And dropping and hopping, and working and jerking, And guggling and struggling, and heaving and cleaving, And moaning and groaning; And glittering and flittering, and gathering and feathering, And whitening and brightening, and quivering and shivering, And hurrying and skurrying, and thundering and floundering; Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, And gleaming, and streaming and steaming and beaming, And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, And thumping and pumping and bumping and jumping, And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing ; And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, And this way the water comes down at Lodore. — Southey. Then the hangman drew near, an' the people grew still, Young faces turned sickly, an' warm hearts turned chill ; DESCRIPTION, 161 An' the rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare For the gripe iv the life-strangling cord to prepare ; An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer. But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound, An' with one darin' spring Jim has leaped on the ground ; Bang ! bang ! goes the carbines, an' clash goes the sabres ! He's not down ! he's alive, still ! now stand to him, neighbors ! Through the smoke an' the horses he's into the crowd — By the heavens, he's free! — than thunder more loud, By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken — One shout that the dead of the world might awaken. The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that, An' Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat ; To-night he'll be sleepin' in Aherloe glin, An' the divil's in the dice if you catch him ag'in. Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang, But if you want hangin', it's yourself you must hang. — J. S. Lefanu. There was all the excitement of a race about it. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket a mile ahead. Hum, hum, hum — m — m ! Kettle making play in the distance, like a great top. Chirp, chirp, chirp! Cricket round the corner. Hum, hum, hum — m — m! Kettle sticking to him in his own way; no idea of giving in. Chirp, chirp, chirp! Cricket fresher than ever. Hum, hum, hum— m— m! Kettle slow and steady. Chirp, chirp, chirp! Cricket going in to finish him. Hum, hum, hum — m — m ! Kettle not to be finished. Until at last, they got so jumbled together, in the hurry-scurry, helter-skelter of the match, that whether the Kettle chirped and the Cricket hummed, or the Cricket chirped and the Kettle hummed, or they both chirped and both hummed, it would have taken a clearer head than yours or mine to decide with anything like certainty. — Dickens. Just then I heard somebody a long way off say, "Whip poor Will!" "Bedad!" sez I, "I'm glad it isn't Jamie that's got to take it, though it seems it's more in sorrow than in anger they are doin' it, or why should they say, ' poor Will ? ' An' sure they can't be Injin, haythin, or naygur, for it's plain English they're afther spakin'. Maybe they might help me out o' this," so I 162 FORTIETH LESSON. shouted at the top of my voice, "A lost man!" Thin I listened. Prisently an answer came : ' ' Who ? Whoo ? Whooo ? " "Jamie Butler, the waiver! " sez I, as loud as I could roar, an' snatchin' up me bundle an' stick, I started in the direction of the voice.— Jimmie Butler and the Owl. It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be ; Or standing long an oak (three hundred year), To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear ; A lily of a day Is fahvr far in May. Although it fall and die that night- It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be. — Ben Jonson He clasps the crag with hooked hands : Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with tin- azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. — Tennyson, " The Eagle." LESSOH XL. Kinal Hints on Attitudes and Bearings. The feet are near together in timidity and weakness ; they are separated in active, strong conditions. The kxees are relaxed in submission, weakness, fear, horror ; they are normally firm in normal conditions ; they stiffen in defiance. The hips thrown forward indicate pomposity, arro- ATTITUDES AND BEARINGS. 163 gance, vulgarity ; drawn back they indicate humility, timidity. The chest expanded denotes strength, activity, no- bility of mind ; contracted, indicates weakness, either of soul or of body, or of both. The attitudes of the head have been fully discussed in previous lessons. The aems, in repose, fall naturally at the sides when standing, or in the lap when sitting. The hands may also be carelessly locked together in front, or one or both arms allowed to rest easily on the read- ing-desk, table, or arm of the chair. The arms are folded in front in concen- tration of thought or emotion, control of passion ; one or both are behind the back in concealment, reflection. If you fold the arms easily and then raise the forearm that is on the outside, so that the hand is at the lips, or the chin or side of the cheek rest upon it, you have another attitude of reflection or concentration of mind that is very common (Fig. 35). Practise going into this attitude without the .preliminary fold of the arms, as soon as you have fig. 35. acquired the correct position. The elbow turned out indicates arrogance, self-as- sertion, conceit; with the hands on the hips these indications are very marked and generally vulgar. 164 FORTIETH LESSON. The elbow drawn in indicates weakness, timidity, fear. The normal attitude of the hand is that which it as- sumes when at rest. The hand expands gently in af- fectionate expressions, as if to caress someone. It opens wide in astonishment, admiration, fear and re- pulsion. The fingers contract in hatred, jealousy, and like passions, as if you would like to tear the flesh of your antagonist. The hand is clinched firmly in con- centration of mind or passion, in rage. The fingers work spasmodically when there is an attempt to con- ceal strong passions fcha overpower the will. The body is bent and passive in weakness, submis- sion, meanness, old age; it is erect and active in all vigorous conditions of mind or body. Laws of Attitude. — Continued. III. — An attitude remains unchanged until the emotion that caused it is superseded or modified by a new emotion. Notice that one attitude of a particular part, for ex- ample, the clinched list, often stands for quite differ- ent conditions. These conditions are shown by other parts of the body. For instance, the clinched fist with the body in an attitude of reflection — that is, with the weight on the retired foot, head bowed and thought- ful expression of the face — would indicate strong men- tal concentration, while the same fist with the body expressing antagonism would convey the impression ATTITUDES AND BEARINGS. 165 that someone in our vicinity was in clanger of a bruised eye at least. Try to have harmony everywhere in your attitudes ; do not let one part of the body contradict another. To the Teacher: — The practice of dialogues is a very useful means of giving pupils confidence and ease before an audi- ence. The study of the bearings and attitudes suitable to dif- ferent characters in a scene or dialogue is also excellent mental discipline, as it cultivates the powers of observation and analy- sis. The few hints given above, together with previous instruc- tion in attitude, gesture, and facial expression, will be found to suggest a very wide range of expression in characterization. No attempt has been made in this book to cover the whole ground in any department of oratory. Especially is this true of pan- tomimic expression, a field that has been very thoroughly ex- plored of late years, and concerning which volumes might be written. If it seems, nevertheless, that an undue proportion of our work has been devoted to pantomime and physical prepara- tion for it, it should be borne in mind that the relation between pantomimic and vocal expression is much closer than is com- monly supposed, and that effective action inevitably reacts in favor cf effective speech, and is more easily studied and criticised, since the theory of vocal expression, spite of all our gains in the last twenty years, is far from the perfection that pantomime has attained. The laws of the one apply to the olher, to be sure ; but their application is much more difficult in the department of vocal expression. Freedom of action means freedom of speech. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE INTRODUCTION. The following selections have been made for the pur- pose of furnishing a more extended application of the principles that have been discussed in the preceding les- sons. Lessons I., II., and III. are all to be used in conjunction with Lesson III. in the Primer. From that point the numbers in both parts correspond. The intelligent teacher will at once perceive that in following this plan of progressive study (corresponding to the use of etudes in music) much that is essential to a proper rendition of even the simplest of the earlier selec- tions must necessarily be ignored; but ir is impossible to avoid this without confusing the beginner with techni- calities with which he i- yet unfamiliar. By confining the attention to one new point at a time, however, each will be made clear, while there will he a gradual accu- mulation of a systematized body of knowledge, and a corresponding assimilation of the technical requirements of more complex and difficult selections, as well as what, after all. should he the chief aim in elocutionary study — the worthy expression of his own ideas. To avoid monotony, these studies should be supplemented by studies of a similar grade, such as may be found in standard text-books of reading and recitation. Finally, it should never be forgotten that technique is, after all, but the dry bones of art, and that the proper rendition of even the simplest selection requires a perfect comprehension of the author's thought and the constant exercise of the student's powers of imagination. F. TOWXSEXD SOUTHWICK. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 167 LESSOH I. The Prodigal Son. [Tell the story simply, being especially careful to speak to your audience, raising the eyes from, the hook, as directed in Lesson III. At first you will have to take more time for this than is necessary for expression; hut con- sider that the beginner in any art must practise slowly until he gains facility, and that a perfectly natural manner of reading can be attained in no other way.] A certain man had two sons : and the younger of them said to his father, ' ' Father, give me the portion of thy substance that falleth to me. " And he divided unto them his living. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country: and there he wasted his substance with riotohs living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that country ; and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to one of the citizens in that country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he fain would have been filled with the husks that the swine did eat ; and no man gave unto him. But when he came to himself he said, "How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish from hunger ! I will arise and go to my father, and say unto him, ' Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight : I am no more worthy to be called thy son : make me as one of thy hired servants. ' " And he arose, and came to his father. But while he was yet afar off, his father saw him, and was moved with compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight : I am no more worthy to be called thy son ! " But the father said to his servants, ' ' Bring forth quickly the best robe, and put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet ; and bring the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat and make merry: for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." And they began to be merry. Now his elder son was in the field : and as he came and drew 168 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called to him one of the servants, and inquired what these things might be. And he said unto him, "Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. " But he was angry, and would not go in : and his father came out and entreated. But he answered and said to his father, ' ' Lo, these many years do I serve thee, and I never transgressed a commandment of thine : and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends : but when this thy son came, which hath devoured thy living, thou killedst for him the fatted calf." And he said unto him, " Son, thou art ever with me, and all that is mine is thine. But it was meet to make merry and be glad : for this thy brother was dead, is alive again ; was lost, and is found. " — Neiv Testament. LESSOR II. Hamlet's Instruction to tine Players. [Study in phrasing.] Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you — trip- pingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spake my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- perance, that may give it smoothness. Oh ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters— to very rags— to split the ears of the groundlings: who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er- doing Termagant : * it out-herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion be your * Termagant, the fiend, and Herod, were evil characters in the popular '•miracle plays." They were acted in a most boisterous manner. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 169 tutor. Suit the action to the word; the word to the action; with this special observance — that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; — to show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own image ; and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this, overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh ! there be players, that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well — they imitated humanity so abom- inably. — Shakespeare. LESSOH III. The Duel. [For avoiding " sing-song " style of delivery.] In Brentford town, of old renown, there lived a Mr. Bray, Who fell in iove with Lucy Bell, and so did Mr. Clay. Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay: " You choose to rival me, And court Miss Bell, but there your court no thoroughfare shall be. " Unless you now give up your suit, you may repent your love; I, who have shot a pigeon match, can shoot a turtle dove. So pray, before yoft woo her more, consider what you do ; If you pop aught to Lucy Bell— I'll pop it into you." Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray: "Your threats I quite explode ; One who has been a volunteer knows how to prime and load. And so I say to you, unless your passion quiet keeps, I, who have shot and hit bulls' eyes, may chance to hit a sheep's.*' 170 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Now gold is oft for silver changed, and that for copper red ; But these two went away to give each other change for lead. But first they sought a friend apiece, this pleasant thought to give- When they were dead, they thus should have two seconds still to live. To measure out the ground not long the seconds then forbore, And having taken one rash step, they took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol-pan against the deadly strife, By putting in the prime of death against the prime of life. Now all was ready for the foes; but when they took their stands, Fear made them tremble, so they found they both were shaking hands. Said Mr. C. to Mr. B. : " Here one of us .may fall, And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, be doomed to have a ball. " I do confess I did attach misconduct to your name; If I withdraw the charge, will then your ramrod do the same V" Said Mr. B. : " I do agree — but think of Honor's Courts! If we go off without a shot there will be strange reports. " But look, the morning now is bright, though cloudy it begun ; Why can't we aim above, as if we had called out the sun ? " So up into the harmless air their bullets they did send : And may all other duels have that upshot in the end I — Thomas Hood. lessoe: ym. Charge of trie Ligrit Brigade Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns! " he said: SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, 171 Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! " Was there a man dismayed ? Not though the soldiers knew Someone had blundered ! Theirs not to make reply ; Theirs not to reason why; Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered: Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of death, Into the mouth of hell, Rode the six hundred. Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wondered ! Plunged in the battery-smoke, , Right through the line they broke: Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke, Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back ; but not — Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them 172 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Volleyed and thundered : Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of death Back from the mouth of hell, ill that was left of them — Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade ? Oh, the wild charge they made I All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made ! Honor the Light Brigade — Noble six hundred !— Tennyson. LESSOH Y. The Discontented Pendulum. [Study in phrasing and emphasis.] An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. LTpon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm ; the hands made a vain effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise ; the weights hung speechless ; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation ; when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice protested their innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke : "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage ; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking. " Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged that it was on the very point of striking. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. lid "Lazy wire!" exclaimed, the dial-plate, holding up its hands. "Very good ! " replied the pendulum, " it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody knows, set yourself up above me— it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ! — you, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse your- self with watching all that goes on in the kitchen ! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to wag backward and forward, year after year, as I do. " "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through?" " For all that,"" resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here; and, although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of lif e ; and, if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours ; perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the exact sum." The minute-hand, being quick at figures, presently replied: " Eighty -six thousand, four hundred times." "Exactly so," replied the pendulum; "well, I appeal to you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue one ; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect ; and so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesita- tion, thinks I to myself I'll stop." The -dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this ha- rangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied: "Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this sudden inaction. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, and are likely to do ; which, although it may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favor to give about half a dozen strokes, to illustrate my argument ? " The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in its usual pace. 174 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. " Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you ?" " Not in the least," replied the pendulum; " it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." " Very good, " replied the dial; " but recollect, that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in. " "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the pen- dulum. " Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, " we shall all immedi ately return to our duty ; for the maids will lie in bed if we stand idling thus." Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever ; while a red beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter. When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night. — Jane Taylor. LESSOH YI. 1 r ne Wind and tire Moon. [Study of the animated, colloquial manner and varied methods of emphasis.l Said the Wind to the Moon, ' ' I will blow you out ; You stare In the air Like a ghost in a chair, * * Phrase this carefully to avoid monotony of melody: " You stare | in the air like a ghost \ in a chair.''' So also similar passages in the other stanzas. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, 175 Always looking what I am about — I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."* The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon." He turned in his bed ; she was there again ! On high In the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain. Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again." The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. "With my sledge, And my wedge, I have knocked off her edge ! If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim. " He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. "One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff ! One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread. " He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. In the air Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare ; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone — Sure and certain the Moon was gone 1 ♦Notice that here and whenever the Wind speaks we should have a bluster- ing, explosive emphasis. Why J 176 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down, In town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar — ' ' What's that ? " The glimmering thread once more 1 He flew in a rage — he danced and blew ; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain ; For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew. Slowly she grew — till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful, silvery light, Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night. Said the Wind : ' ■ What a marvel of power am I ! With my breath, Good faith, I blew her to death — First blew her away right out of the sky- Then blew her in ; what strength have I ! " But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair ; For high In the sky, With her one white eye,* Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare. — George Tslacdonald. *Contrast by your manner of speaking, the calm Moon with the noisy Wind. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 177 LESSOH YII. Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery. [Study in oratorical address. Speak as if to a large audience but without departing from the melody of conversation.] Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are en- gaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation — or any nation so conceived and so dedicated — can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who have given their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot conse- crate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our power to add or to detract. The world will very little note nor long remember what we say here ; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the un- finished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining be- fore us ; that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion ; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. — Abraham Lincoln. 178 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH VII —Continued. Brutus on the Death of Caesar. [Study in contrasted inflections and emphasis.] Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly — any dear friend of Caesar's, — to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was not less than his. If, thou, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Ca-sar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As 3ar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; hut as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. "Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman 1 If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. None ? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying — a place in the commonwealth, — as which of you shall not? With this I depart : That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. — Shakespeare. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 179 LESSOH YIIL The Star*Spangled Banner. O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming ? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ; O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses ? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam ; Its full glory, reflected, now shines on the stream ; Tis the star-spangled banner, oh, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. And where is the band who so vauntingly swore, 'Mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, A home and a country they'd leave us no more ? Their blood hath washed out their foul footsteps' pollution , No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave ; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between our loved home and the war's desolation ; Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation"; Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And this be our motto, " In God is our trust ; " And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. — Francis Scott Key. 180 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. lessoh: ix. Ttie Origin of Roast F»ig. Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript, for the first seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing or biting it from the living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this day. The manuscript goes on to say that the art of roasting, or rather broiling (which I take to be the elder brother), was accidentally discovered in the manner following: The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the woods one morning, left his cottage in the care of his eldest son, Bo-bo, a great, lubberly boy, who, being fond of playing with fire, let some sparks escape into a bundle of straw, which, kindling quickly, spread the conflagration over every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced to ashes. Together with the cottage, a fine litter of m-w-f arrowed pigs, no less than nine in number, perished. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you may think, not so much for the sake of the tenement, which his father and he could easily build up again with a few dry biandi.-. and the labor of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. "While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking rem- nants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced What could it proceed from ? Not from the burned cottage — he had smelt that smell before — indeed, this was by no means the first accident of the kind which had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky young fire-brand. Much less did it resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. He knew not what to think. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there were any signs of life in it. He burned his fingers, and to cool them he applied them in his booby fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had come away with his fingers, and for the first time in his life (in the world's life, indeed, for before him no man had known it) he tasted crackling ! Again he felt and fumbled at the pig. It did not burn him so much now, still he licked his fingers from a sort of habit. The SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 181 truth at length broke into his slow understanding that it was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so delicious ; and sur- rendering himself up to the new-born pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole handf uls of the scorched skin with the flesh next it, and was cramming it down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered amid the smoking rafters, and finding how affairs stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogue's shoulders, as thick as hailstones, which Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies. His father might lay on, but he could not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly made an end of it, when, becoming a little more sensible of his situation, something like the following dialogue ensued : 'You graceless whelp, what have you got there devouring? Is it not enough that you have burned me down three houses with your dog's tricks, and be hanged to you ! but you must be eating fire, and I know not what — what have you got there, I say ? " "O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste how nice the burnt pig eats ! " The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son, and he cursed himself that ever he should beget a son that should eat burnt pig. Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since morning, soon raked out another pig, and fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting out, "Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, father, only taste — O Lord!" — with such-like barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would choke. Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put his son to death for an unnatural young monster, when the crackling scorching his fingers, as it had done his son's, and applying the same remedy to them, he in his turn tasted some of its flavor, which, make what sour mouths he would for pretense, proved not altogether displeasing to him. In conclusion (for the manuscript here is a little tedious) both father and son fairly set down to the mess, and never left off till they had dispatched all that remained of the litter. Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escape, for the 182 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. neighbors would certainly have stoned them for a couple of abominable wretches, who could think of improving upon the good meat which God had sent them. Nevertheless, strange stories got about. It was observed that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down now more frequently than ever. Nothing but fires from this time forward. Some would break out in broad day, others in the night-time. As often as the sow farrowed, so sure was the house of Ho-ti to be in blaze; and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow more indulgent to him than ever. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery discovered, and father and son summoned to take their trial at Pekin. Evidence was given, the obnoxious food itself produced in court, and verdict about to be pronounced, when the foreman of the jury begged that some of the burnt pig, of which the culprits stood accused, might be handed into the box. He handled it, and they all handled it ; and burning their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before them, and nature prompting to each of them the same remedy, against the face of all the facts, and the clearest charge which judge had ever given — to the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all present — without leaving the box, or any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a simultaneous verdict of "not guilty.'' The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the manifest iniquity of the decision; and when the court was dismissed, went privily, and bought up all the pigs that could be had for love or money. In a few days his lordship's town-house was observed to be on fire. The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen but fire in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enor- mously dear all over the district. Thus this custom of firing houses continued, till in process of time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, who made a discovery, that the flesh of swine, or, indeed, of any other animal, might be cooked (burnt as they called it) without the necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by the string or spit came in a century or two later, I forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the most useful, and seemingly the most obvious arts, make their way among mankind. — Charles Lavi&. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 183 LESSOH X. Langley Lane. [A charming study for purity of tone.] In all the land, range up, range down, Is there ever a place so pleasant and sweet As Langley Lane in London town, Just out of the bustle of square and street ? Little white cottages, all in a row, Gardens where bachelor's-buttons grow, Swallows' nests in roof and wall, And up above the still blue sky Where the woolly white clouds go sailing by — I seem to be able to see it all ! For now, in summer, I take my chair, And sit outside in the sun, and hear The distant murmur of street and square, And the swallows and sparrows chirping near , And Fanny, who lives just over the way, Comes running many a time each day, With her little hand's touch so warm and kind ; And I smile and talk, with the sun on my cheek, And the little live hand seems to stir and speak,— - For Fanny is dumb, and I am blind. Fanny is sweet thirteen, and she Has fine black ringlets and dark eyes clear ; And I am older by summers three. Why should we hold one another so dear ? Because she cannot utter a word. Nor hear the music of bee or bird, The water-cart's splash or the milkman's call; Because I have never seen the sky, Nor the little singers that hum and fly, Yet know that she is gazing upon them all. 184 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. For the sun is shining, the swallows fly, The "bees and the blue-flies murmur low; And I hear the water-cart go by, With its cool splash- splash, down the dusty row; And the little one close at my side perceives Mine eyes upraised to the cottage eaves, Where birds are chirping in summer shine, And I hear, though I cannot look ; and she, Though she cannot hear, can the singers see, — And the little soft fingers flutter in mine ! Hath not the dear little hand a tongue, When it stirs on my palm for the love of me ? Do I not know she is pretty and young v Hath not my soul an eye to see ? 'Tis pleasure to make one's bosom stir, To wonder how things appear to her, That I only hear as they pass around; And as long as we sit in the music and light, She is happy I - keep l rod's sight, And I am happy to keep God's sound. Though if ever the Lord should grant me a prayer, (I know. the fancy is only vain ) I should pray just once, when the weather is fair, To see little Fanny, and Langley Lane ; Though Fanny, perhaps, would pray to hear The voice of the friend that she holds so dear, The song of the birds, the hum of the street, — It is better to be as we have been, Each keeping nap something unheard, unseen, To make God's heaven more strange and sweet. Ah, life is pleasant in Langley Lane ! There is always something sweet to hear, — Chirping of birds, or patter of rain, And Fanny, my little one, always near. And though I am weakly and can't live long, And Fanny, my darling, is far from strong, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. '185 And though we can never married be, What then, since we hold one another so dear For the sake of the pleasure one cannot hear, And the pleasure that only one can see ? — Robert Buchanan. LESSOH XI. Adams and Jefferson. [Practise slowly, especially for distinct enunciation.] Adams and Jefferson, I have said, are no more. As human beings, indeed, they are no more. But how little is there of the great and good which can die ! To their country they yet live, and live forever. They live in their example ; and they live em- phatically, and will live in the influence which their lives and efforts, their principles and opinions, now exercise, and will con- tinue to exercise, on the affairs of men, not only in their own country, but throughout the civilized world. A superior and commanding human intellect, a truly great man — when Heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, — is not a temporary flame, burning bright for a while, and then expiring, giving place to returning darkness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as well as radiant light, with power to enkindle the common mass of human mind ; so that, when it glimmers in its own decay, and finally goes out in death, no night follows, but it leaves the world all, all on fire, from the potent contact of its own spirit. No two men now live — perhaps it may be doubted whether any two men have ever lived in one age — who, more than those we now commemorate, have impressed their own sentiments, in regard to politics and government, on mankind; infused their own opinions more deeply into the opinions of others ; or given a more lasting direction to the current of human thought. Their work doth not perish with them. The tree which they assisted to plant will flourish, although they water it and protect it no longer: for it has struck its roots deep ; it has sent them to the very cen- 186 ' SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, tre; no storm, not of force to burst the orb, can overturn it; its branches spread wide ; they stretch their protecting arms broader and broader, and its top is destined to reach the heavens. We are not deceived. There is no delusion here. No age will come, in which the American revolution will appear less than it is, — one of the greatest events in human history. No age will come, in which it will cease to be seen and felt, on either conti- nent, that a mighty step, a great advance, not only in American affairs, but in human affairs, was made on the 4th of July, 1776. And no age will come, we trust, so ignorant, or so unjust, as not to see and acknowledge the efficient agency of these we now honor, in producing that momentous event. — Daniel Webster. LESSOR XII. The Fox at the Point of Death. [Read the old Fox'e w< irdfl with the whole body relaxed. Notice the effect of relaxation on the voice.] A Fox, in life's extreme decay, Weak, sick, faint, expiring lay. All appetite had left his maw, And age disarmed his mumbling jaw. His numerous race around him stand, To learn their dying sire's command. He raised his head with whining moan, And thus was heard the feeble tone: ' ' Ah, sons, from evil ways depart ; My crimes lie heavy on my heart. See ! see ! the murdered geese appear ! AVhy are those bleeding turkeys there ? Why all around this cackling train Who haunt my ears for chickens slain 2 " The hungry foxes round them stared, And for the promised feast prepared. ' ' Where, sir, where all this dainty cheer t SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 18? Nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here. These are the phantoms of your brain, And your sons lick their lips in vain." " O gluttons! " says the drooping sire, " Eestrain inordinate desire. Your licorish taste you shall deplore When peace of conscience is no more. Would you true happiness attain, Let honesty your passions rein ; So live in credit and esteem, And the good name you lost redeem." " The counsel's good," a fox replies, " Could we perform what you advise. Think what our ancestors have done — A line of thieves from son to son. Though we like harmless sheep should feed, Honest in thought, in word, in deed, Whatever hen-roost is decreased, We shall be thought to share the feast. The change shall never be believed : A lost good name is ne'er retrieved." ' ' Nay, then, " replies the feeble Fox — * ' But hark ! I hear a hen that clocks ! Go ; but be moderate in your food — A chicken, too, might do me good. " — John Gay LESSOH XIII. The Leper. [Try in this selection to read the pathetic portions with tender sympathy, but avoiding a whining tone. J Day was breaking, When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof, 188 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Like an articulate wail ; and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt, Waiting to hear his doom : " Depart! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God ! For He has smote thee with His chastening rod, And to the desert wild, From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague His people may be free." And he went forth alone. Not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way — Sick and heart-broken, and alone— to die ! For God had cursed the leper. It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and lathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched The loathsome water to his fevered lips, Praying he might be so blest — to die! Footsteps approached, and with no strength to nee, He drew the covering closer on his lip, Crying ' ' Unclean ! unclean ! " and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name, ' ' Helon : " The voice was like the master-tone Of a rich instrument— most strangely sweet ; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrilL "Helon, arise! " And he forgot his cui-se > And rose and stood before him. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 189 Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a lofty lineage wore ; No followers at his back, nor in his hand Buckler, or sword, or spear ; yet in his mien Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, A kingly condescension graced his lips, The lion would have crouched to in his lair. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, As if his heart was moved ; and, stooping down, He took a little water in his hand And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean! " And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him. —N. P. Willis. LESSCOT XIY. Ecrio and. tine Kerry. [Study in melody, major and minor inflection.] Ay, Oliver ! I was but seven, and he was eleven ; He looked at me pouting and rosy. I blushed where I stood. They had told us to play in the orchard (and I only seven, A small guest at the farm) ; but he said, ' 'Oh ! a girl was no good !" So he whistled and went, he went over the stile to the wood. It was sad, it was sorrowful ! Only a girl — only seven ! At home in the dark London smoke I had not found it out. The pear-trees looked on in their white, and bluebirds flashed about .1 190 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. And they, too, were angry as Oliver. Were they eleven ? I thought so. Yes, everyone else was eleven— eleven. So Oliver went, but the cowslips were tall at my feet, And all the white orchard with fast-falling blossom was littered ; And under and over the branches those little birds twittered, While hanging head downward they scolded because I was seven. A pity — a very great pity. One should be eleven. But soon I was happy, The smell of the world was so sweet, And I saw a round hole in an apple-tree rosy and old. Then I knew, for I peeped, and I found it was right they should scold. Eggs small and eggs many. For gladness I broke into laughter; And then someone else— oh ! how softly — came after, came after With laughter— with laughter came after. And no one was near us to utter that sweet, mocking call, That soon very tired Bank low with a mystical fall. But this was the country, perhaps it was close under heaven; Oh! nothing so likely ; the voice might have come from it even. But at last — in a day or two namely — Eleven and I Were very fast friends, and to him 1 confided the wonder. He said that was Echo. "Was Echo a wise kind of bee That had Learned how to laugh? Could it laugh in one's ear and then fly, And laugh again yonder v" ' No ; Echo" — he whispered it low — '• Was a woman, they said, but a woman whom no one could see And no one could find ; and he did not believe it, not he ; But he could not get near for the river that held us asunder. Yet I that had money — a shilling, a whole silver shilling — We might cross if I thought I would spend it." " Oh, yes, I was willing " — And we ran hand in hand, we ran down to the ferry, the ferry, And we heard how she mocked at the folk with a voice clear and merry When they called for the ferry ; but, oh ! she was very — was very Swift footed. She spoke and was gone; and when Oliver cried, ' ' Hie over ! hie over ! you man of the ferry— the ferry ! " By the still water's side she was heard far and wide — she replied. And she mocked in her voice sweet and merry, ' Y T ou man of the ferry, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 191 You man of— you man of the ferry ! " "Hie over! " he shouted. The ferryman came at his calling; Across the clear reed-bordered river he ferried us fast. Such a chase ! Hand in hand, foot to foot, we ran on ; it sur- All measure her doubling, so close, then so far away falling, Then gone, and no more. We sought in the wood, and we found the wood-wren in her stead ; In the field, and we found but the cuckoo that talked overhead ; By the brook, and we found the reed-sparrow deep-nested, in brown; Not Echo, fair Echo — for Echo, sweet Echo was flown. — Arranged from Jean Ingelow. LESSOH XY. Incident of the French Camp. [This selection, though perhaps too difficult for young readers, is an excellent subject for analysis for phrasing and emphasis.] You know we French stormed Ratisbon : A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day ; With neck out -thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow, Oppressive with its mind. Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall, " — * * From the beginning of this stanza to the word " wall," we have an example of subordination which should be carefully studied. Notice that in poetry the order of words and phrases may be transposed from that of prose, as is frequently done in this example. It is good practice to rewrite such passages in prose form. 192 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping ; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect, (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in tw< >. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's graca We've got you Ratisbon ! The marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him! " The chief's eye flashed ; his plans Soared up again like fire. The chief's eye flashed ; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes : ' ' You're wounded ! " " Nay, " his soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said : " I'm killed, sire!" And, his chief beside, Smiling, the boy fell dead. — Robert Browning. LESSOH XYI. Sympathy ^.vitri tine Greeks. [Study for range and sustained power.] And has it come to this ? Are we so humbled, so. low, so de- based, that we' dare not express our sympathy for suffering Greece, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 193 — that we dare not articulate our detestation of the brutal ex- cesses of which she has been the bleeding victim, lest we might offend some one or more of their imperial and royal majesties ? If gentlemen are afraid to act rashly on such a subject, suppose, Mr. Chairman, that we unite in a humble petition, addressed to their majesties, beseeching them, that of their gracious conde- scension, they would allow us to express our feelings and our sympathies. How shall it run? "We, the representatives of the free people of the United States of America, humbly approach the thrones of your imperial and royal majesties, and supplicate that, of your imperial and royal clemency, " — I cannot go through the disgust- ing recital ! My lips have not yet learned to pronounce the syco- phantic language of a degraded slave ! Are we so mean, so base, so despicable, that we may not attempt to express our horror, utter our indignation, at the most brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth or shocked high Heaven ; at the ferocious deeds of a savage and infuriated soldiery, stimu- lated and urged on by the clergy of a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in all the excesses of blood and butchery, at the mere details of which the heart sickens and recoils ? If the great body of Christendom can look on calmly and coolly whilst all this is perpetrated on a Christian people, in its own im- mediate vicinity, in its very presence, let us at least evince that one of its remote extremities is susceptible of sensibility to Chris- tian wrongs, and capable of sympathy for Christian sufferings ; that in this remote quarter of the world there are hearts not yet closed against compassion for human woes, that can pour out their indignant feelings at the oppression of a people endeared to us by every ancient recollection and every modern tie. Sir, an attempt has been made to alarm the committee by the dangers to our commerce in the Mediterranean ; and a wretched invoice of figs and opium has been spread before us to repress our sensibilities and to eradicate our humanity. Ah ! sir, ' 'what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? " — or what shall it avail a nation to save the whole of a miserable trade, and lose its liberties ? — Henry Clay. 194 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH XYII. Reading for trie Triougrit. [Especially valuable for analysis.] When you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, " Am I inclined to work as an Australian miner would ? Are my pick- axes and shovels in good order, and am I in good trim myself — my sleeves well up to the elbows, and my breath good, and my temper ?" And, keeping the figure a little longer, even at the cost of tiresomeness, for it is a thoroughly useful one, the metal you are in search of being the author's mind or meaning, his words are as the rock which you have to crush and smelt in order to get at it. And your pickaxes are your own care, wit, and learning; your smelting-f urnace is your own thoughtful soul. Do not hope to get at any good author's meaning without those tools and that fire. Often you will need sharpest, finest chiselling and pa- tientest fusing before you can gather one grain of the metal. And, therefore, first of all, I tell you earnestly and authorita- tively (I know I am right in this), you must get into the habit of looking intensely at words, and assuring yourself of their mean- ing, syllable by syllable — nay, letter by letter. For, though it is only by reason of the opposition of letters in the function of signs to sounds in the function of signs that the study of books is called " literature," and that a man versed in it is called, by the consent of nations, a man of letters, instead of a man of books or of words, you may yet connect with that accidental nomenclature this real fact — that you might read all the books in the British Museum (if you could live long enough) and remain an utterly illiterate, uneducated person ; but that if you read ten pages of a good book letter by letter, that is to say, with real accuracy, you are f orevermore in some measure an educated person. The entire difference between education and non-education (as regards the merely intellectual part of it) consists in this accuracy. A well- educated gentleman may not know many languages, may not be able to speak any but his own, may have read very few books. But whatever language he knows, he knows precisely; whatever SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 195 word he pronounces, he pronounces rightly. Above all, he is learned in the peerage of words, knows the words of true descent and ancient blood, at a glance, from words of modern canaille ; remembers all their ancestry, their intermarriages, distant rela- tionships, and the extent to which they were admitted, and offices they held among the national noblesse of words at any time and in any country. But an uneducated person may know, by memory, many languages, and talk them all, and yet truly know not a word of any — not a word even of his own. An ordinarily clever and sensible seaman will be able to make his way ashore at most ports; yet he has only to speak a sentence of any lan- guage to be known for an illiterate person. So also the accent, or % turn of expression of a single sentence, will at once mark a scholar. And this is so strongly felt, so conclusively admitted, by educated persons, that a false accent or a mistaken syllable is enough, in the parliament of any civilized nation, to assign to a man a certain degree of inferior standing forever. — John RusJcin. LESSOH XVIII. Portia's Speech on Ivlercy. [Study in analysis for emphasis. In the delivery, have enthusiasm and reverence; endeavor to persuade, rather than to teach.] The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blessed — It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown ; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 196 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. It is an attribute to God himself ; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this— That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; ■ Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. — Shakespeare. LESSOR XIX. The He 1^> of Sh.'niclon. [One of the most musical poems in our language, and an excellent study fur the voice. Do not degrade it Into a piece of imitation. This is reflective, cot didactic. Emphasize the feeling and admiration, rather than tlie facts.] With deep affection And recollection, I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sound so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee, — With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand, on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. I've heard bells chiming Full many a clime in, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, 197 Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine ; While at a glib rate, Brass tongues would vibrate ; But all their music spoke naught like thine. For memory, dwelling On each proud swelling Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free, Made the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand, on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, Their thunder rolling from the Vatican ; And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turret of Notre Dame ; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly. Oh, the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand, on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. There's a bell in Moscow ; While on tower and kiosk — O — In Saint Sophia the Turkman gets, And loud in air Calls men to prayer, From the tapering summits of tall minarets. Such empty phantom I freely grant them ; But there's an anthem more dear to me: 'Tis the bells of Shandon, That sound so grand, on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. — Francis Mahoney. 198 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH XX. The Battle of Naseby.* BYOBADIAH BlND-THEIR-KINGS-IN-CHAlNS-AND-THEIR-NOBLES-WlTH- LINKS-OF-IRON, SERGEANT IN IRETON'S REGIMENT. [Study of variety of expression in the torso, and excited breathing.] Oh, wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red ? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout ? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread ? Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod ; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong, Who sat in the high places, and slew the saints of God. It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, That we saw their banners dance, and their cuirasses shine; And the Man of Blood was there, with his long essenced hair, And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine. Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword, The general rode along us, to form us to the fight, When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled into a shout, Among the godless horsemen, upon the tyrant's right. And, hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line ! For God ! for the Cause ! for the Church ! for the Laws ! For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine ! The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall ; ♦Naseby is a Tillage in Northamptonshire. England. Here was fought a decisive battle between the royal forces commanded by Charles I. and those of the Parliament under Fairfax, June 1-1.1545. The royal centre was com- manded by the king in person, the right wins by Prince Rupert, and the left by Sir Marmaduke Langdal. Fairfax, supported by Skippon, commanded the centre of his army, with Cromwell on his right wing, and Ireton on his left. The royal army, though successful in the first part of the action, was totally defeated.— Monroe's Sixth Reader. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, 199 They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes, close your ranks, For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall. They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! We are gone ! Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. O Lord, put forth Thy might ! O Lord, defend the right ! Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to the last. Stout Skippon hath a wound ; the centre hath given ground ; Hark ! hark ! What means this tramping of horsemen in our rear ? Whose banner do I see, boys ? 'Tis he, thank God ! 'tis he, boys ! Bear up another minute : brave Oliver is here. Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes ; Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes. Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple Bar ; And he — he turns, he flies : — shame on those cruel eyes That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war. — Macaulay LESSOH XXI. Tine Little Sto^vaAT^ay. [Study in impersonation. Give special attention to Hearings and attitudes.] " 'Bout three years ago, afore I got this berth as I'm in now, i. was second engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer bound for New York. There'd been a lot of extra cargo sent down just at the last minute, and we'd had no end of a job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin' ; so that, altogether, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the sweetest temper in the world, nor the mate neither. On the mornin' of the third day out from Liver- 200 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. pool, the chief engineer cum down to me in a precious hurry, and says he : ' Tom, what d'ye think ? Blest if we ain't found a stow- away ! ' "I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a sky- rocket ; and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. Every man- Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we had aboard, was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the middle was the fust mate, lookin' as black as thunder. Right in front of him, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten-year old — ragged as a scarecrow, but with bright, curly hair, and a bonnie little face o' his own, if it hadn't been so wof ul thin and pale. The mat* 1 was a great hulkin' black-bearded feller with a look that 'iul ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump through a keyhole; but the young un warn 't a bit af eard— he sto< »d straight up, and looked him full in the face with them bright, clear eyes <»' his'n, for all the world as if he was Prince BaLferd himself. You might ha' heerd a pin drop, as the mate spoke. " • Well, you young whelp,' says he, 'what's brought you here ? ' '"It was my step-father as done it,' says the boy, in a weak little voice, but a- could be. 'Father's dead, and mother's married again, ami my new father says as how he won't have no brats about eatm' up his wages; and he stowed me away when nobody warn't lookin', and guv me some grub to keep me goin' for a day or two till I got to sea. He says I'm to go to Aunt Jane, at Halifax ; and here's her address.' ""We all believed every word on't, even without the paper he held out. But the mate says : ' Look here, my lad ; that's all very fine, but it won't do here— some o' these men o' mine are in the secret, and I mean to have it out of 'em. Now, you just point out the man as stowed you away and fed you, this very minute ; if you don't, it'll be the worse for you ! ' " The boy looked up in his bright, fearless way (it did my heart good to look at him, the brave little chap !) and says, quietly, 'I've told you the truth ; I ain't got no more to say.' ' ' The mate says nothin', but looks at him for a minute as if he'd see clean through him ; and then he sings out to the crew SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 201 loud enough to raise the dead: 'Reeve a rope to the yard; smart now!' ' ' ' Now, my lad, you see that ere rope ? Well, I'll give you ten minutes to confess ; and if you don't tell the truth afore the time's up, I'll hang you like a dog ! ' "The crew all stared at one another as if they couldn't believe their ears (I didn't believe mine, I can tell ye), and then a low growl went among 'em, like a wild beast awakin' out of a nap. ' ' ' Silence there ! ' shouts the mate, in a voice like the roar of a nor'easter. ' Stan' by to run f or'ard ! ' as he held the noose ready to put it round the boy's neck. The little fellow never flinched a bit ; but there was some among the sailors (big strong chaps as could ha' felled an ox) as shook like leaves in the wind. I clutched hold o' a handspike, and held it behind my back, all ready. " 'Tom,' whispers the chief engineer to me, ' d'ye think he really means to do it ? ' " 'I don't know,' says I, through my teeth ; ' but if he does, he shall go first, if 1 swings for it ! ' "I've been in many an ugly scrape in my time, but I never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed as long as a dozen; and the tick o' the mate's watch, reg'lar, pricked my ears like a pin. " 'Eight minutes,' says the mate, his great, deep voice breakin' in upon the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. ' If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out with it, for ye're time's nearly up. ' " 'I've told you the truth,' answers the boy, very pale, but as firm as ever. ' May I say my prayers, please ? ' "The mate nodded; and down goes the poor little chap on his knees and puts up his poor little hands to pray. I couldn't make out what he said, but I'll be bound God heard it every word. Then he uns on his feet again, and puts his hands behind him, and says to tne mate quite quietly 'I'm ready. ' "And then, sir tne mate's hard, grim face broke up all to once, like I've seed the ice in the Baltic . He snatched up the boy in his arms, and kissed him, and burst out a-cryin' like a child ; and I think there warn't one of us as didn't do the same. I know I did for one. 202 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. " ' God bless you, my boy ! ' says he, sinoothin' the child's hair with his great hard hand. ' You're a true Englishman, every inch of you ; you wouldn't tell a lie to save yer life ! Well, if so be as yer father's cast yer off, I'll be yer father from this day forth; and if I ever forget you, then may God forget me!' "And he kep' his word, too. When we got to Halifax, he found out the little un's aunt, and gev' her a lump o' money to make him comfortable; and now he goes to see the youngster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be ; and to see the pair on 'em together — the little chap so fond of him, and not bearin' him a bit o' grudge — it's 'bout as pretty a sight as ever I seed. And now, sir, axin' yer parding, it's time tor me to be goin' below; so I'll just wish yer good-night." LESSOR XXII. The Owl and the I3ell. "Bing, Bim, Bang, Borne!" Sang the Bell to himself in his house at home. Up in the tower, away and unseen, In a twilight of ivy, cool and green ; With his Bing, Bim, Bang, Borne! Singing bass to himself in his house at home. Said the Owl to himself, as he sat below On a window-ledge, like a ball of snow: 1 ' Pest on that fellow, sitting up there, Always calling the people to prayer ! With his Bing, Bim, Bang, Borne ! Mighty big in his house at home ! "I will move, " said the Owl. ' ' But it suits me well ; And one may get used to it, — who can tell ? " So he slept in the day with all his might, And rose and napped out in the hush of night, When the Bell was asleep in his tower at home, Dreaming over his Bing, Bang, Borne I SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 203 For the Owl was born so poor and genteel, He was forced from the first to pick and steal ; He scorned to work for honest bread — "Better have never been hatched," he said. So he slept all day ; for he dared not roam Till the night had silenced the Bing, Bang, Borne ! When his six little darlings had chipped the egg, He must steal the more ; 'twas a shame to beg. And they ate the more that they did not sleep well. " It's their gizzards," said ma. Said pa, "It's the Bell! For they quiver like leaves in a wind-blown tome, When the Bell bellows out his Bing, Bang, Borne!" But the Bell began to throb with the fear Of bringing the house about his one ear ; And his people were patching all day long, And propping the walls to make them strong. So a fortnight he sat, and felt like a mome, For he dared not shout his Bing, Bang, Borne ! Said the Owl to himself, and hissed as he said, " I do believe the old fool is dead. Now, now, I vow, I shall never pounce twice; And stealing shall be all sugar and spice. But I'll see the corpse, ere he's laid in the loam, And shout in his ear Bing, Bim, Bang, Borne ! "Hoo! hoo! " he cried, as he entered the steeple, "They 've hanged him at last, the righteous people ! His swollen tongue lolls out of his head — Hoo ! hoo ! at last the old brute is dead. There let him hang, the shapeless gnome ! Choked, with his throat full of Bing, Bang, Borne!" So he danced about him, singing ' ' Too-whoo ! " And napped the poor Bell and said, " Is that you? Where is your voice with its wonderful tone, Banging poor owls and making them groan ? A fig for you now, in your great hall-dome ! Too-whoo is better than Bing, Bang, Borne ! " 204 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. So brave was the Owl, the downy and dapper, That he flew inside, and sat on the clapper ; And he shouted "Too-whoo! " till the echo awoke Like the sound of a ghostly clapper-stroke. "Ah, ha!" quoth the Owl, "I am quite at home; I will take your place with my Bing, Bang, Borne !" The Owl was uplifted with pride and self -wonder; He hissed, and then called the echo thunder ; And he sat, the monarch of feathered fowl, Till — Bang ! went the Bell, and down went the Owl, Like an avalanche of feathers and foam, Loosed by the booming Bing, Bang, Borne. He sat where he fell, as if naught was the matter, Though one of his eyebrows was certainly flatter. Said the eldest owlet, " Pa, you were wrong; at it again with his vulgar song." " Be still." said the Owl; "you're guilty of pride: I brought him to life by perching inside." "But why, my dear ;" Baid his pillowy wife; "You know he was always the plague of your life." "I have given him a lesson of good for evil; Perhaps the old ruffian will now be civil." The Owl looked righteous, and raised his comb ; But the Bell bawled on his Bing, Bang, Borne ! — George MacDonald. LESSOH XXIII. Scene from Tine Rivals. [Study particularly for the attitudes, but with attention to facial exprea sion as well.] Bob Acres, a stupid country squire, has been induced to chal- lenge his unknown rival, Beverley, who is really Captain Abso lute, though Acres does not know it. Sir Lucius O'Trigger, who has challenged Captain Absolute, has consented at the same time to act as second for Acres, not knowing that Beverley and Abso* lute are the same. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 205 {Enter Sir Lucius and Acres, ivith pistols.] Acres. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a goo<3 distance. Odds levels and aims ! I say it is a good distance. Sir L. It is for muskets, or small field pieces. Upon my con- science, Mr. Acres, you must leave these things to me. Stay now, I'll show you. [Measures paces. ] There, now, that is a very pretty distance — a pretty gentleman's distance. Acres. Zounds ! we might as well fight in a sentry-box ! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off the cooler I shall take my aim, Sir L. Faith, then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight ! Acres. ¥o, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty, or eight and thirty yards — Sm L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. Acres. Odds bullets, no ! by my valour, there is no merit in killing him so near ! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot ; a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me. Sir L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before ? Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. Sir L. Ah, that's a pity — there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot? Acres. Odds files ! I've practised that — there, Sir Lucius, there — [puts himself into an attitude] a side-front, hey ? — Odds, I'll make myself small enough— I'll stand edgeways. Sir L. Now, you're quite out — for if you stand so when I take my aim — [levelling at him] Acres. Zounds, Sir Lucius ! are you sure it is not cocked ? Sir L. Never fear. Acres. But — but — you don't know — it may go off of its own head! Sir L. Pho ! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance ; for if it misses a vital part on your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left Acres. A vital part ! 206 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Sir L. But there— fix yourself so [placing him]— let him see the broadside of your full front — there — now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all, and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain. Acres. Look ye, Sir Lucius— I'd just as leave be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one— so, by my valour ! I will stand edgeways. Sir L. [looking at Ids watch]. Sure they don't mean to dis- appoint us — hah ! no, faith — I think I see them coming. Acres. Hey !— what !— coming ! Sir L. Ay, who are those yonder, getting over the stile ? Acres. There are two of them indeed !— well, let them come— hey, Sir Lucius! — we — we — we — we — won't run. Sir L. Run! Acres. No, I say — we won't run, by my valour! Sir L. What's the matter with you? Acres. Nothing, nothing, my dear friend — my dear Sir Lucius — but I — I — I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did. Sir L. Oh, fie ! consider your honour. A» RES. Ay, true — my honour — do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two, every now and then, about my honour. Sir L. Well, here they're coming. [Looking.] [Enter Faulkland and Captain Absolute.] Sir L. Gentlemen, your most obedient — hah ! — what, Captain Absolute! So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself — to do a kind office, first for your friend — then to proceed to business on your own account? Mr. Beverley, [to Faulkland] if you choose your weapons, the Captain and I will measure the ground. Faulk. My weapons, sir ! Acres. Odds lif e ! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulk- land ; these are my particular friends ! Sir L. What, sir, did not you come here to fight Mr. Acres ? Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir ! But if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter — Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland— I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian. Lookye, Sir Lucius, 'tis one Beverley I've chal- SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 207 lenged — a fellow, you see, that dare not show his face. If he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly. Capt. A. Hold, Bob — let me set you right — there is no such man as Beverley in the case. The person who assumed that name is before you ; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you Sir L. Well, this is lucky. Now you have an opportunity — Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend, Jack Absolute ! — not if he were fifty Beverleys ! Zounds ! Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural ! Sir L. Pho ! pho ! you are little better than a coward. Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward : coward was the word, by my valour ! Sir L. Well, sir ? Acres. Lookye, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word coward — coward may be said in a joke — but if you had called me a pol- troon, odds daggers and balls ! Sir L. Well, sir? Acres. I should have thought you a very ill-bred man. — Sheridan. LESSOH X-XIY. A. Plain Tale of 1893. [Study for deep, genuine feeling.] Heroic deeds are not, as some apostles of the commonplace would have us think, lost to the world in these degenerate days. Nor yet are they so plenty that we can afford to let even one pass by unnoticed and unrecorded. Great disasters and arduous ex- peditions call them forth, and they are seen, too, in the daily current of events in the humblest walks of life. Often the heroes are unconscious of their own worth. But the chief value of such deeds is not in the glorification of the doer, but in the inspiration they give to the beholder, to the reader, to all who 208 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. know of them. There comes at this time from the Dark Conti- nent a plain tale of plain men in this latest year of the era of commonplace as thrilling as any saga of Odin and his heroes. It was in Matabeleland, in Captain Wilson's fatal pursuit of the wily monster, Lobengula. The principal facts of that gallant but disastrous ride have already been made known. But an officer of one of the Matabele regiments, who himself led in the attack upon the entrapped Englishmen, supplies, in his own graphic phrases, some details that can never be forgotten.* "I, Machasha, induna in the Insuka regiment, " he says, "tell you these things. We were six thousand men against your thirty-four. . . . They rode into the track, and linked their horses in a ring, and commenced a heavy fire upon us, and our men fell fast and thick. We opened a fire upon them and killed all their horses. Then they took to cover behind their horses' bodies and killed us jnst like grass. We tried to rush them. Twice we tried, but failed. After a time they did not fire so much, and we thought their ammunition was getting short. Then, just as we were preparing to rush again, they all stood up. They took off their hats and sang. We were so amazed to see men singing in the face of death that we knew not what to do. At last we rushed. Yon white men don't fight like men, but like devils. They shot us until the last cartridge, and most of them shot themselves with that, But those who had none left just covered up their eyes and died without a sound. Child of a white man, your people know how to fight, and how to die. We killed all the thirty-four. But they killed us like grass." Not the Spartans at Thermopylae, nor the Guard at Waterloo, presented a spectacle of sublimer heroism than that handful of Englishmen, surrounded by savage foes more than a hundred to one when the last cartridges were in their revolvers, standing up in full view of their slayers, reverently baring their heads, and singing "God Save the Queen!" Your latter-day materialist may sneer at it as fustian, or as mere brute desperation. It was neither. It was the sense of duty conquering the sense of fear. It was courage of soul triumphant over impending dissolution of *In the passage that follows, do not impersonate. Speak as you feel, with admiration for the heroism of these noble men. The emotions here are too deep for tricks of impersonation. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 209 the body. It was a ' ' crowded hour of glorious life " that indeed was "worth an age without a name ; " worth it, not only to the actors in it, but to the whole human race. Those men had no reason to think, and did not think, that their death-song would ever be heard by other ears than those of their destroyer. Their deed was not bravado, but modest, loyal duty. But their voices will henceforth live in countless throbbing hearts, and their valor makes life and the world seem nobler to all their fellow- men. — New York Tribune. LESSOH XXV. Two Views of Christmas. [Study in inflection and impersonation.] Nephew. A merry Christmas, uncle ! Scrooge. Bah! humbug! Neph. Christmas a humbug, uncle ! You don't mean that, I'm sure ? Scrooge. I do. Out upon merry Christmas ! What's Christ- mas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer ; a time for balancing your books, and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you ? If I had my will, every idiot who goes about with "Merry Christmas " on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should ! Neph. Uncle ! Scrooge. Nephew, keep Christmas time in your own way, and let me keep it in mine. Neph. Keep it ! But you don't keep it ! Scrooge. Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do you ! Much good it has ever done you ! Neph. There are many good things from which I might have derived good by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas 210 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christ- mas time, when it has come round, — apart from the veneration due to its sacred origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that — as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleas- ant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-travelers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And, therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it! Scrooge. You're quite a powerful speaker, sir ; I wonder you don't go into Parliament. Neph. Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to- morrow. Scrooge. I'll see you hanged first. Neph But why, uncle ? Why? Scrooge. Why did you get married ? Neph. Because I fell in love. Scrooge. Because you fell in lovel — Good afternoon! Neph. Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now ? Scrooge. Good afternoon! Neph. I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends ? Scrooge. Good afternoon ! Neph. I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We never had any quarrel to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last. So, a merry Christmas, uncle! Scrooge. Good afternoon! Xeph. And a happy New Year ! Scrooge. Good afternoon ! — Dickens. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 211 LESSOR XXYL The Christmas Party at Scrooge's Nephew's. [An excellent study for distinctness, as well as in all the elements of expression that we have studied.] It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things that, while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor. When Scrooge's nephew laughed, Scrooge's niece by marriage laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends, being not a bit behindhand, laughed out lustily. "He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" cried Scrooge's nephew. " He believed it, too! " "More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indig- nantly. Bless those women ! They never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest. She was very pretty ; exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth that seemed made to be kissed— as no doubt it was ; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head. Altogether, she was what you would have called provoking, but satisfactory, too ; oh, per- fectly satisfactory. "He's a comical old fellow," said Scrooge's nephew, "that's the truth; and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him. Who suffers by his ill whims ? Himself, always. Here he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence ? He don't lose much of a dinner." "Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," interrupted Scrooge's niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clus- tered round the fire by lamplight. "Well, I am very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's nephew, 212 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. "because I haven't any great faith in these young housekeepers. "What do you say, Topper ? " Topper clearly had his eye on one of Scrooge's niece's sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's sister- the plump one with the lace tucker, not the one with roses — blushed. After tea they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about when they sang a glee *or catch, I can assure you— especially Topper, who could growl away down in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it. But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After a while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be children some- times, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty founder was a child Himself. There was first a game at blind- man's buff, though. And I no more believe Topper was really blinded than I believe he had eyes in his boots. Because the way in which he wenl after that plump sister in the lace tucker was an outrage on the credulity ot human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping up against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains — wherever she went, then- went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He couldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen 'up against him, as some of them did, and stood there, he would have made a feint of endeavoring to seize you which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. They had a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The fire of questioning to which he was exposed elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by any- body, and didn't five in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 213 or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every new question put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister cried out: " I have found it out ! I know what it is, Fred ! I know what it is ! " "What is it?" cried Fred. "It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge ! " which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to " Is it a bear ? " ought to have been " Yes." — Dickens. LESSOH XXYII. The Palmer's Vision. By permission of Charles Scribner's Sons. [Study for the attitudes of the head.] Noon o'er Judsea ! All the air was beating With the hot pulses of the day's great heart ; The birds were silent; and the rill, retreating, Shrank in its covert, and complained apart, When a lone pilgrim, with his scrip and burden, Dropped by the wayside weary arid distressed, His sinking heart grown faithless of its guerdon — The city of his recompense and rest. No vision yet of Galilee and Tabor ! No glimpse of distant Zion thronged and crowned ! Behind him stretched his long and useless labor, Before him lay the parched and stony ground. He leaned against a shrine of Mary, casting Its balm of shadow on his aching head ; And worn with toil, and faint with cruel fasting, He sighed, "O God! God, that I were dead! 2H SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. ' ' The friends I love are lost, or left behind me ; In penury and loneliness I roam ; These endless paths of penance choke and blind me: Oh, come and take Thy wasted pilgrim home 1 " Then, with the form of Mary bending o'er him, Her hands in changeless benediction stayed, The palmer slept, while a swift dream upbore him To the fair paradise for which he prayed. He stood alone, wrapped in divinest wonder ; He saw the pearly gates and jasper walls Informed with light ; and heard the far-off thunder Of chariot wheels and mighty waterfalls. From far and near, in rhythmic palpitations, Rose on the air the noise of shouts and psalms; And through the gates he saw the ransomed nations Marching, and waving their triumphant palms. And white within the thronging empyrean, A golden palm-branch in His kingly hand, He saw his Lord — the gracious Galilean — Amid the worship of His myriads stand. " O Jesus, Lord of glory! bid me enter: I worship Thee ! I kiss Thy holy rood ! " The pilgrim cried, when, from the burning centre, A broad-winged angel sought him where he stood. " Why art thou here ? " in accents deep and tender Outspoke the messenger. " Dost thou not know That none may win the city's rest and splendor Who do not cut their palms in Jericho ? ' ' Go back to earth, thou palmer empty-handed ! Go back to hunger and the toilsome way ! Complete the task that duty hath commanded, And win the palm thou hast not brought to-day ! " And then the sleeper woke, and gazed around him ; Then, springing to his feet with lif e renewed, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 215 He spurned the faithless weakness that had bound him, And, faring on, his pilgrimage pursued. The way was hard, and he grew halt and weary ; But one long day among the evening hours, He saw beyond a landscape gray and dreary The sunset flame on Salem's sacred towers, Oh, fainting soul that readest well this story, Longing through pain for death's benignant balm, Think not to win a heaven of rest and glory If thou shalt reach its gates without thy palm. — J. G. Holland. LESSOH XXYIII. Marmion and Douglas. [Study in bold climax. Attitudes of the head.] The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : "Though something I might 'plain," he said, " Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble Earl, receive my hand. " But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : "My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer : My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation-stone,— The hand of Douglas is his own, And never shall in friendly grasp 216 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. The hand of such as Marmion clasp. " Burned Marruion's swarthy cheek like fire And shook his very frame for ire, And— "This to me! " he said,— "An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And first, I tell thee, haughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate! And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay, never l<«»k upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword) I tell thee thou'ri defied! And if thou saidsl I am not peer To any Lord in Scotland here, Lowland or highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied I " On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age. Fierce he broke forth,— "And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his Hall ? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? No, by St. Bride of Both well, no ! Up drawbridge, grooms !— What, warder, ho' Let the portcullis fall ! " Lord Marmion turned — well was his need ! — And dashed the rowels in his steed. Like arrow through the archway sprung ; The ponderous gate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. The steed along the drawbridge flies, Just as it trembled on the rise ; SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE, 217 Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim : And when Lord Marmion reached his hand, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntle t atthe towers. ' ' Horse ! horse ! " the Douglas cried, ' ' and chase ! " But soon he reined his fury's pace : "A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name. ***** St. Mary, mend my fiery mood ! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, I thought to slay him where he stood. ' Tis pity of him, too, " he cried ; "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, I warrant him a warrior tried. " With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle walls. —Scott. LESSOH XXIX. Alexander Ypsilanti. [Study for attitudes of head and expression of the eye.l Alexander Ypsilanti sat in Muncac's lofty tower And the rotten casement rattled in the wind that midnight hour ! Black winged clouds in long procession, hiding moon and star. swept by, And the Greek prince whispered sadly, ' ' Must I here a captive lie?" On the distant south horizon still he gazes, half unmanned : "Were I sleeping in thy dust, now, my beloved fatherland ! " And he flung the window open — 'twas a dreary scene to view; Crows were swarming in the lowlands, round the cliff the eagles flew. 218 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. And again he murmured, sighing, ' ' Comes there none good news to tell, From the country of my fathers ? " And his heavy lashes fell,— Was't with tears, or was't with slumber ? and his head sank on his hand, Lo ! his face is growing brighter, dreams he of his fatherland ? So he sate, and to the sleeper came a slender armed man, •Who with glad and earnest visage to the mourner thus began : "Alexander Ypsilanti, cheer thy heart and lift thy head! In the narrow rocky passage where my blood was freely shed, Where the brave three hundred Spartans slumber in a common grave, Greece to-day has met the oppressor, and her conquering banners wave: This glad message to deliver was my spirit sent to thee: Alexander Ypsilanti. Hollas' holy land is free!" Then awoke the prince from slumber, and in ecstasy he cries: " 'Tis Leonidas!" and glistening tears of joy bedewed his eyes. Hark! above his head a rustling; and a kingly eagle flies, From the window and in moonlight, spreads his pinions to the skies. LESSOH XXX. ]\Iice at F*lay. [Variety in rhythmical movement.] Mother was away, and, in consequence, Bess, Bob, Archie, and Tom had gotten into all sorts of mischief, the most serious acci- dent being Archie's broken arm, the result of an attempt to ride the trick mule at the circus the day before. But in the minds of the children, the fact that Bob had dropped the best silver teapot down the well quite overshadowed all other misfortunes and the question was, how to recover it. ' ' I see it ! I see it ! " cried Tom eagerly. ' ' It's down at the bot- tom. " "Did you suppose it would float ? " asked Bess. "Let me see ! " cried Bob. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 219 " You clear out," said Archie : " you've made all this mischief. You'd "better go before you tumble in yourself, you little goose. I can't go after it, with my broken arm. " " Now I suppose we will hear of nothing but your broken arm for a month, and you'll shirk everything for it. ' I can't study 'cause my arm's broken ; I can't go errands 'cause my arm's broken ; I can't go to church 'cause my arm's broken ; ' that will be your whim, Archie; but don't try your dodges on me, for I won't stand it. If it really hurts you, I'm sorry, and I'll lick any fellow that touches you till you get well again : but none of your humbug. Of course you can't go down the well ; you couldn't if your arm wasn't broken." Meanwhile Bess had gone to the house for a long fishing-pole, and soon returned carrying it. " We'll fasten a hook to the end of it and fish the teapot up," said she. "Ho, ho! Do you suppose it will bite like a fish? "laughed Tom. " No, I do not, Tom Bradley. But I suppose if I tie a string to the pole, and fasten an iron hook to one end, that I can wiggle it round in the water till the hook catches in the handle, and then we can draw it up. That's what I suppose. " " There's something in that, Bess. Let me try." " No ; go and get one for yourself. " " But where can I find one ? " "In the smoke-house, where I got mine." ' ' Oh, get me one, too, " cried Bob. " And me one, too," cried Archie. Before half an hour had passed, the four children, all armed with fishing-poles, were intently wiggling in the water, catching their hooks in the stones by the side of the well, entangling their lines, digging their elbows into each other's sides, in their frantic attempts to pull their hooks loose, scolding, pushing, and getting generally excited. Every few minutes Tom would pull Bess back by her sunbonnet, and save her from tumbling over in her eager- ness : but so far from being grateful to her deliverer, Bess resented the treatment indignantly. " Stop jerking my head so! " she cried. 220 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. " You'll be in, in a minute ; you'd have been in then, if I hadn't jerked you," answered Tom. 1 ' Well, what if I had ? Let me alone. If I go in, that's my own lookout." "Your own look in, you mean. My gracious! wouldn't you as- tonish the toads down there ! But you'd get your face clean. " " Now, Tom, you let me be. I 'most had it that time." "So you've said forty times. This is all humbug. I'm going down on the rope for it." ' ' Oh, no, Tom ; please don't. Indeed you'll be drowned ; the rope will break; you'll kill yourself: you'll catch cold," cried Bess, in alarm. "Pooh! girl! coward! " lvtortrd thankless Tom. " Who's afraid of what ? Stand back, small boys, I'm going in." "You'll poison the water," suggested Archie. ' ' It will be so cold, " moaned Bob. " I'll screamfora hundred years, without stopping, Tom," cried Bess, wildly. "Yon shan't go down— you; I'll call someone. Murray! Peter! Maggie! c-o-o-o-o-o-o-me! O-o-o-o-h, c-o-o-o-o-me !" "Stop screaming, and help. Now, do you three hold on tight to this bucket; don't let go for a moment; pull away as hard as you can when I tell you to. Now for it. " And, without more ado, Tom clung to the other rope with his hands, and twisted his feet around the bucket-handle. " Hold on tight, and let me down easy," said Tom; and the three children lowered him little by little. A sudden splash and shiver told them he had reached water, and a shout of triumph declared that the teapot was rescued. As Tom shouted, all the children let go the rope and rushed to the side of the well to look at the victorious hero. It was a most for- tunate circumstance that the water in the well was low. As it was, he stood in the cold water up to his shoulders. ' ' What made you let go ?" roared Tom. ' • Oh, Tom, have you got it ? Have you, really ? Ain't it cold? Are you hurt ? Were you scared ? Is the teapot broken ? " ' ' Draw me up ! You silly children ! You goose of a Bess ! Why don't you draw me up ? " "I will, Tom; I'm going to," answered Bess. But all the united efforts could not raise Tom. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 221 "I'll run next door and call Mr. Wilson," said Bess, hopefully, and started. As Bess ran, she was suddenly stopped at the gate by the sight of a carriage which had just driven up, and out of which now stepped Aunt Maria and Aunt Maria's husband, Uncle Daniel. These were the very grimmest and grandest of all the relations. For one awful moment Bess stood stunned. Then her anxiety for Tom overcame every other consideration, and before Aunt Maria could say, "How do you do, Elizabeth ? " she had caught her uncle by his august coat-tail, and, in a piteous voice, besought him to come and pull on the rope. " Pull on a rope, Elizabeth!" said Uncle Daniel, who was a very slow man; " why should I pull on a rope, my dear ? " "Oh, come quick ! hurry faster ! Tom's down in the well ! " cried Bess. " Tom down a well ! How did he get there ? " " He went down for the teapot," sobbed Bess; " the silver tea- pot, and we can't pull him up again ; and he's cramped with the cold. Oh, do hurry ! " Uncle Daniel leisurely looked down at Tom. Then he slowly took off his coat, and as slowly carried it into the house, stopped to give an order to his coachman, came with measured pace to the three frightened children ; then took hold of the rope, gave a long, strong, calm pull, and in an instant Tom, "dripping with coolness, arose from the well." — Neil Forest. LESSOH XXXI. The Chambered Nautilus. By permission of and arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin & Co. This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, 222 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl— Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! And every chambered cell, . Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, Before thee lies revealed — Its irised ceiling rent, it sunless crypt unsealed! Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil ; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn ! From thy dead lips a clearer note is borne Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past ! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! — O. W. Holmes. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 223 LESSOH XXXII. Sweet and Low. '^Gentle inclinations of the head and caressing attitudes of the hands; soft voice.] Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and bio v, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon ; Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. — Tennyson, ± The Twenty -third Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to he down in green pastures ; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in the paths of righteous- ness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 224 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord f orever. — Bible. LESSOR XXXIII. The Owl Critic. By permission of and arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin & Co. [Colloquial manner. Free use of hand and forearm.] " Who stuffed that white owl ? " No one spoke in the shop ; The barber was busy and he couldn't stop; The customers, waiting their turn, were all reading The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question ; Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion ; And the barber kept on shaving. "Don't you see. Mister Brown," Cried the youth, with a frown, " How wrong the whole thing is, How preposterous each wing is, How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is — In short, the whole owl, what an Ignorant wreck 'tis ! I make no apology ; I've learned owl-eology.- I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, And cannot be blinded to any deflections Arising from unskilful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. Mister Brown ! Mister Brown ! Do take that bird down, Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town ! " And the barber kept on shaving. " I've studied owls, and other night fowls, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 225 And I tell you what I know to be true : An owl cannot roost with his limbs so unloosed ; No owl in this world ever had his claws curled, Ever had his legs slanted, ever had his bill canted, Ever had his neck screwed into that attitude. He can't do it, because it's against all bird laws. Anatomy teaches, ornithology preaches, An owl has a toe that can't turn out so ! I've made the white owl my study for years, And to see such a job almost moves me to tears ! Mister Brown, I'm amazed you should be so gone crazed As to put up a bird in that posture absurd ! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness ; The man who stuffed him don't half know his business ! " And the barber kept on shaving. "Examine those eyes, I'm filled with surprise Taxidermists should pass off on you such poor glass ; So unnatural they seem they'd make Audubon scream, And John Burroughs laugh to encounter such chaff. Do take that bird down ; have him stuffed again, Brown ! " And the barber kept on shaving. "With some sawdust and bark I could stuff in the dark An owl better than that ; I could make an old hat Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl, Stuck up there so stiff, like a side of coarse leather. In fact, about Mm there's not one natural feather." Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch, Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, And then fairly hooted, as if he should say : "Your learning's at fault this time, anyway ; Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. I'm an owl ; you're another. Sir Critic, good day I " And the barber kept on shaving. — James T. Fields. 226 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH XXXIY. Herve Riel. [Study in movement, pitch and volume.] On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French — woe to France ! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Ranee, With the English fleet in view. Twas the squadron that escapi <1. with the victor in full chase, First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; Close on him tied, great and small, Twenty-two good -hips in all; And they signaled to the place, "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick — or, quicker still. Here's the English can and will ! " Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board ; "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they ; ' ' Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the ' Formidable ' here, with her twelve and eighty guns, Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside '? Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring ! Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay ! " Then was called a council straight ; Brief and bitter the debate : SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 227 "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound ? — Better run the ships aground ! " (Ended Damfreville his speech), ' ' Not a minute more to wait ! Let the captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ! France must undergo her fate. "Give the word!" — But no such word Was ever spoke or heard ; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these — A captain ? A lieutenant ? A mate — first, second, third ? No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete ! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet — A poor coasting pilot he, Herve Riel, the Croisickese. And "What mockery or malice have we here? " cries Herv6 Riel; "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools or rogues ? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, ' Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold ? Is it love the lying's for ? Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet, and ruin France ? That were worse than fifty Hogues ! Sirs, they know I speak the truth I Sirs, believe me there's a way I "Only let me laad the line Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this ' Formidable ' clear, Make the others follow mine, 228 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. And I lead them most and least by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor, past Greve, And there lay them safe and sound ; And if one ship misbehave — Keel so much as grate the ground — Why, I've nothing but my life here's my head I" cries Herv6 Riel. Not a minute more to wait ! "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. ' ' Captains, give the sailor place ! He is admiral, in brief. " Still the north wind, by God's grace; See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas pro- found ! See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock ! Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief ! The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last. And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!" — sure as fate, Up the English come, too late. So the storm subsides to calm ; They see the green trees wave On the heights o'erlookmg Greve ; Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. ' ' Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance As they cannonade away ! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee! " Now hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance ! Then said Damf reville, ' ' My friend, I must speak out at the end, SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 229 Though I find the speaking hard : Praise is deeper than the lips ; Yon have saved the king his ships, Yon must name your own reward. Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not Damf reville. " Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue : "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run ?— Since 'tis ask and have, I may — Since the others go ashore — Come ! A good whole holiday ! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked, and that he got — nothing more. Name and deed alike are lost ; Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing-smack, In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris ; rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank ; You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve EieL So, for better and for worse, Herve Riel, accept my verse ! In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore.' — Robert Browning. 230 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH XXXV. Against Whipping in the Navy. [Study in oratorical action.] There is one broad proposition, Senators, upon which I stand. It is this — that an American sailor is an American citizen, and that no American citizen shall, with my consent, be subjected to the infamous punishment of the Lash. Placing myself upon this proposition, I am prepared for any consequences. I love the navy. When I speak of the navy, I mean the sailor as well as the officer. They arc all my fellow-citizens and j^ours; and, come what may, my voice will ever be raised against a pun- ishment which degrades my countrymen to the level of a brute, and destroys all that is worth living for— personal honor and self-respect. In many a bloody conflict lias the superiority of American sailors decided the battle in our favor. I desire to secure and preserve that superiority. But can nobleness of sentiment or honorable pride of character dwell villi one whose every muscle has been made to quiver under the lash ? Can he long continue to love a country whose laws crush out all the dignity of man- hood and rouse all the exasperation of hat" in his breast? Look to your history— that part of it which the world knows by heart— and yon will find on its brightest page the glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever his country has done to disgrace him . ids spirit, he has never disgraced her. Man for man. he asks no odds, and he cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity or the glory of his country calls him to the fight. Who, in the darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag into the very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in his den, and awoke the echo of old Albion's hills by the thunder of his cannon and the shouts of his triumph ? It was the American sailor; and the names of John Paul Jones and the Bon Homme Richard will go down the annals of time forever. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 231 Who struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag— which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Christendom — drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an end to the infamous tribute it had been accustomed to exact ? It was the American sailor ; and the names of Decatur and his gallant companions will be as lasting as monumental brass. In your war of 1812, when your arms on shore were covered by disaster — when Winchester had been defeated, when the army of the Northwest had surrendered, and when the gloom of despond- ency hung like a cloud over the land — who first relit the fires of national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of victory ? It was the American sailor ; and the name of Hull and the Constitution will be remembered as long as we have a coun- try to love. That one event was worth more to the Republic than all the money which has ever been expended for a navy. Since that day, the navy has had no stain upon its national escutcheon, but has been cherished as your pride and glory ; and the American sailor has established a reputation throughout the world, in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, for a heroism and prowess unsurpassed. The great climax of Cicero in his speech against Verres is, that, though a Roman citizen, his client had been scourged. Will this more than Roman Senate long debate whether an American citi- zen, sailor though he be, shall be robbed of his rghts ? whether freeman, as he is, he shall be scourged like a slave ? Shall an American citizen be scourged ? Forbid it, Heaven ! Humanity forbid it ! For myself, I would rather see the navy abolished, and the Stars and Stripes buried, with their glory, in the depths of the ocean, than that those who won for it all its renown should be subjected to a punishment so brutal, to an ignominy so undeserved. — Commodore Stockton. 232 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. LESSOH XXXVI. Scene from "Julius Caesar." [Study in dramatic action.] Rome; a street. Enter Flavtus and Marullus R. , meeting a throng of citizens from L., who stand across the background. Flavius. (c.) Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home! Is this a holiday ? What ! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Upon a laboring day, without the sign Of your profession?— Speak, what trade art thou ? 1st Cit. Why. sir. a carpenter. Marullus. (r.) Win.- re is thy leather apron and thy rule? You, sir; what trade are you? 2d Cit. (11. o.) Truly, sir, in respecfcof a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar But what trade art thou ? Answer me directly. 2d Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe con- science ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave, thou naughty knave, what trade ? 2d Cit. ~Saj, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me ; yet, if 'you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What mean'st by that ? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ! 2d Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou ? 2d Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is the awl : I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters — but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes ; when they are in great danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's-leather have gone upon my handy- work. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day ? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ? 2d Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Csesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 233 Mar. (l. c.) Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home ? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things. Oh, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; And, when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made a universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath his banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in his concave shores ? And do you now cull out a holiday ? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood % Begone : Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. Flav. (c.) Go, go, good countrymen ; and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort ; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exeunt Citizens r.] Mar. See, whe'r, their basest metal be not moved ; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the capitol ; This way will I. Disrobe the images, If you do find them decked with Caesar's trophies. Flav. (r.) May we do so ? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Mar. (l.) It is no matter; 234 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing, Will make him fly an ordinary pitch ; Who, else, would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearf ulness. [Exeunt Marullus l., Flavius r.] — Shakespeare. LESSOH XXXVII. Supporting tli^- Guna. [Speak distinctly, in Bpite of the excitemenl and consequenl rapiditywitb which parts of this selection must be given. ] We have been fighting at the edge of the woods. Every car- tridge-box has been emptied once and more, and a fourth of the brigade has melted away in dead and wounded and missing. Not a cheer is heard in the whole brigade. We know that we are being driven foot by foot, and that when we break back once more the line will goto pieces and the enemy will pour through the gap. Here comes help ! Down the crowded highway gallops a battery, withdrawn from some other position to save ours. The field fence is scattered while you could count thirty, and the guns rush for the hill behind us. Six horses to a piece — three riders to each gun. Over dry ditches where a farmer would not drive a wagon ; through clumps of bushes, over logs a foot thick, every horse on the gal- lop, every rider lashing his team and yelling — the sight behind us makes us forget the foe in front. The guns jump two feet high as the heavy wheels strike rock or log, but not a horse slackens his pace, not a cannoneer loses his seat. Six guns, six caissons, sixty horses, eighty men race for the brow of the hill as if he who reached it first was to be knighted. A moment ago the battery was a confused mob. We look again SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 235 and the six guns are in position, the detached horses hurrying away, the ammunition-chests open, and along our line runs the command : ' ' Give them one more volley and fall back to support the guns !" We have scarcely obeyed when boom ! boom ! boom ! opens the battery, and jets of fire jump down and scorch the green trees under which we fought and despaired. The shattered old brigade has a chance to breathe for the first time in three hours as we form a line of battle behind the guns and lie down. What grim, cool fellows these cannoneers are ! Every man is a perfect machine. Bullets plash dust in their faces, but they do not wince. Bullets sing over and around them, but they do not dodge. There goes one to the earth, shot through the head as he sponged his gun. The machinery loses just one beat — misses just one cog in the wheel, and then works away again as before. Every gun is using short-fuse shell. The ground shakes and trembles — the roar shuts out all sounds from a battle line three miles long, and the shells go shrieking into the swamp to cut trees short off— to mow great gaps in the bushes— to hunt out and shatter and mangle men until their corpses cannot be recog- nized as human. You would think a tornado was howling through the forest, followed by billows of fire, and yet men live through it — aye ! press forward to capture the battery ! We can hear their shouts as they form for the rush. Now the shells are changed for grape and canister, and the guns are served so fast that all reports blend into one mighty roar. The shriek of a shell is the wickedest sound in war, but nothing makes the flesh crawl like the demoniac singing, purring, whistling grape-shot and the serpent-like hiss of canister. Men's legs and arms are not shot through, but torn off. Heads are torn from bodies and bodies cut in two. A round shot or shell takes two men out of the ranks as it crashes through. Grape and canister mow a swath and pile the dead on top of each other. Through the smoke we see a swarm of men. It is not a battle line, but a mob of men desperate enough to bathe their bayonets in the flame of the guns. The guns leap from the ground, almost as they are depressed on the foe, and shrieks and screams and 236 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. shouts blend into one awful and steady cry. Twenty men out of the battery are down, and the firing is interrupted. The foe accepts it as a sign of wavering, and come rushing on. They are not ten feet away when the guns give them a last shot. That discharge picks living men off their feet and throws them into the swamp, a blackened, bloody mass. Up now, as the enemy are among the guns ! There is a silence of ten seconds, and then the flash and roar of more than 3,000 muskets, and a rush forward with bayonets. For what ? Neither on the right, nor left, nor in front of us is a living foe ! There are corpses around us which have been struck by three, four and even six bullets, and nowhere on this acre of ground is a wounded man ! The wheels of the guns cannot move until the blockade of dead is removed. Men cannot pass from caisson to gun without climbing over winrows of dead. Every gun and wheel is smeared with blood — every foot of grass has its horrible stain. Historians write of the glory of war. Burial parties saw mur der where historians saw glory.— Detroit Free Press. LESSOH XXXVIII. Kacilis Descensus. [Study of facial expression.] "O where are you going with your love-locks flowing, On the west wind blowing along this valley track? " "The down-hill path is easy, come with me an it please ye, We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back." So they two went together in glowing August weather ; The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right ; And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 237 'Oh, what is that in heaven where gray cloud-flakes are seven, Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?" • Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous. An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt." 'Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly, Their scent comes rich and sickly?" "A scaled and hooded worm. " ' Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow ? " "Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term." ' Turn again, O my sweetest — turn again, false and fleetest. This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is hell's own track." ' Nay, too steep for hill mounting ; nay, too late for cost counting : This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back." — The Congregationalist Tine Man in the Moon. By permission of the Publisher, F. T. Neely. [For comic facial expression.] Oh, the man in the moon has a crick in his back ; Wheel Whimm! Ain't you sorry for him ? And a mole on his nose that is purple and black ; And his eyes are so weak that they water and run, If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun, So he just dreams of stars, as the doctors advise. My! Eyes! But isn't he wise To just dream of stars as the doctors advise ? And the man in the moon has a boil on his ear; Whee! Whimm! What a singular thing! 238 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. I know ! but these facts are authentic, my dear — There's a boil on his ear and a corn on his chin- He calls it a dimple, but dimples stick in ; Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know; Whang! Ho! Why, certainly so ! It might be a dimple turned over, you know ! And the man in the moon has a rheumatic knee ; Gee! Whizz ! What a pity that is! And his toes have worked round where his heels ought to be ; So whenever he wants to go north he goes south, And comes back with the porridge crumbs all round his mouth, And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan. Wliing! Whann! What a marvelous man ! What a very remarkable, marvelous man ! — James Whitcomb Riley. LESSOH XXXIX. From "A. Tramp Abroad..* By permission of the American Publishing Co., Hartford, Conn. [Humorous and poetic description and imitation.] It may interest the reader to know how they ' ' put horses to " on the Continent. The man stands up the horses on each side of the thing that projects from the front end of the wagon, and then throws the tangled mess of gear on top of the horses, and passes the thing that goes forward through a ring and hauls it aft, and passes the other thing through the other ring and hauls it aft on the other side of the other horse, opposite to the first one, after crossing them and bringing the loose end back, and then buckles SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 239 the other thing underneath the horse, and takes another thing and wraps it around the thing I spoke of before, and puts another thing over each horse's head, with broad flappers to it to keep the dust out of his eyes, and puts the iron thing in his mouth for him to grit his teeth on up hill, and brings the ends of these things aft over his back, after buckling another one around under his neck to hold his head up, and hitching another thing on a thing that goes over his shoulders to keep his head up when he is climbing a hill, and then takes the slack of the thing which I mentioned a while ago, and fetches it aft and makes it fast to the thing that pulls the wagon, and hands the other things up to the driver to steer with. I never have buckled up a horse myself, but I do not think we do it that way. We had four very handsome horses, and the driver was very proud of his turnout. He would bowl along on a reasonable trot on the highway, but when he entered a village he did ib on a furious run, and accompanied it with a frenzy of ceaseless whip- crackings, that sounded like volleys of musketry. He tore through the narrow streets and around sharp curves like a mov- ing earthquake, showering his volleys as he went, and before him swept a continuous tidal wave of scampering children, ducks, cats, and mothers clasping babies which they had snatched out of the way of the coming destruction ; and as this living wave washed aside along the walls, its elements, being safe, forgot their fears and turned their admiring gaze upon that gallant driver till he thundered around the next curve and was lost to sight. About noon we made a two-hours' stop at a village hotel. There was a lake here, in the lap of the great mountain. The green slopes that rose toward the lower crags were graced with scattered Swiss cottages nestling among miniature farms and gardens, and from out a leafy ambuscade in the upper heights tumbled a brawling cataract. Next to me at the table d'hote sat an English bride, and next to her sat her new husband, whom she called "Neddy," though he was big enough and stalwart enough to be entitled to his full name. They had a pretty little lovers' quarrel over what wine they should have. Neddy was for obeying the guide-book and taking the wine of the country ; but the bride said : 240 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. " What, that nahsty stuff ! " " It isn't nahsty, pet, it's quite good." "It is nahsty." ". No, it isn't nahsty." " It's oful nahsty, Neddy, and I shan't drink it." Then the question was, what she must have. She said he knew very well that she never drank anything but champagne. She added : 1 ' You know very well papa always has champagne" on his table, and I've always been used to it." Neddy made a playful pretense of being distressed about the expense, and this amused her so much that she nearly exhausted herself with laughter, and this pleased him so much that he repeated his jest a couple of times, and added new and killing varieties to it. When the bride finally recovered, she gave Neddy a love-box on the arm with her fan, and said, with arch severity : "Well, you would have me— nothing else would do — so you'll have to make the best of a bad bargain. Do order the cham- pagne; I'm oful dry." So, with a mock groan, which made her laugh again, Neddy ordered the champagne. The fact that this young woman had never moistened the selvedge edge of her soul with a less plebeian tipple than cham- pagne had a marked and subduing effect upon Harris. He believed she belonged to the royal family. But I had my doubts. — Mark Twain. SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 241 LESSOH XL. Morit Blanc Before Sunrise. [Study for reverential feeling. Do not try to describe these pictures. Simply express the emotions the poem awakens in you, and your audience will feel them also.] Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc ! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form, Eisest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee, and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it As with a wedge. But when I look again It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity. dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, — So sweet we know not we are listening to it, — Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy; Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing — there, As in her natural form, swelled vast to heaven. Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy ! Awake, Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake ! Green vales and icy cliffs ! all join my hymn ! 242 SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale ! f Oh, struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink, — Companion of the morning star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald — wake ! O wake ! and utter praise ! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams ? And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! Who called you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns called you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, Forever shattered, and the same forever ? Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury and your joy, Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam? And who commanded — and the silence came — "Here let the billows stiffen and have rest?" Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! Motionless torrents ; silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? ' ' God ! " let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plain echo, "God! " "God!" sing, ye meadow streams, with gladsome voice Ye pine groves, with your soft and soul -like sound's! And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, "God ! " SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 243 Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm ! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! Utter forth "God!" and fill the hills with praise! Thou, too, hoar mount ! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast, — Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou That, as I raise my head, awhile bowed low In adoration, upward from thy base Slow travelling, with dim eyes suffused with tears. Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, To rise before me, — rise, oh, ever rise! Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth ! Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills, Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. —S. T. Coleridge. Note to Lesson XXIII., page 204, and to Lesson XXXVI., Page 232. The accompanying diagram explains the usual stage direction* that are found in acting editions of plays and dialogues. / " Up stage " or back. \ R. 3 E. L. 3 E. ' R. R. C. C. L. C. L. R. 2 E. Right. Right Centre. Centre. Left Centre. Left. L - 2 El '• Down stage M or front. | L. 1 B The Audience. Side entrances.— Right or Left. 1st, 2d. 3rd, and upper entrance. Doors at back.— Right centre, centre and left centre. Principal characters come to or near the centre, subordinate characters, and principals also, when for the time they give place to others, belong "up stage." The actor should stand so that his face is easily seen by the audience, unless there is an especial reason for turning his back upon them; for this reason, the foot nearest the person whom he is addressing on the stage should be the foot furthest "up stage," and in pacing to and fro the last step at either side of the stage should always be upon this fooc, so that the transition to the other direction can be made without turning the back on the audience. In grouping a number of characters on the stage the chief thing to be borne in mind is that everyone should be so placed that he can be easily seen from the front. The simplest form is the arc of a circle, but if the arc is broken intx) a number of little groups the effect is more artistic. Often the principals are grouped in the front with subordinates up the stage. One of the most difficult accomplishments of the actor is the exit or departure from the stage. It should always be made expressive in the highest degree. After an impassioned speech amateurs often walk tamely off with an air as if all were finished ; on the contrary, the exit should emphasize the prevailing mood, whether of love, hate, joy or sorrow. Entrances, exits and all other changes of position should be accomplished gracefully, avoiding angularitv. (244) MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS Miscellaneous Selections. LILIES OF QUEENS' GARDENS. BY JOHN RUSKIN. It is now long since the women of England arrogated, univer- sally, a title which once belonged to nobility only, and insisted on the privilege of assuming the title of "lady," which properly corresponds only to the title of "lord." I do not blame them for this, but only for their narrow motive in this. I would have them desire and claim the title of "lady," provided they claim, not merely the title but the office and duty signified by it. Lady means "bread-giver" or "loaf-giver," and "lord" means "maintainer of laws," and both titles have refer- ence, not to the law which is maintained in the house, not to the bread which is given to the household, but to law maintained for the multitude and to bread broken among the multitude. So that a lord has legal claim only to his title in so far as he is the maintainer of the justice of the Lord of Lords; and a lady has legal claim to her title, only so far as she communicates that help to the poor representatives of her Master. And this beneficent and legal dominion, this power of the Domimis or House-Lord, and of the Domina, or House-Lady, is great and venerable, not in the number of those through whom it has lineally descended, but in the number of those whom it grasps within its sway ; it is always regarded with reverent worship wherever its dynasty is founded on its duty, and its ambition corelative with its beneficence. Your fancy is pleased with the thought of being noble ladies, with a train of vassals ? Be it so ; you can not be too noble, and your train can not be too great ; but see to it that your train is of vassals whom you serve and feed, not merely of slaves who serve and feed you; and that the multi- tude which obeys you is of those whom you have comforted, not oppressed, — whom you have redeemed, not led into captivity. 248 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. And this, which is true of the lower or household dominion, is equally true of the queenly dominion. That highest dignity is open to you if you will also accept that highest duty. Rex et rcgina — roi et reine — "right-doers"; they differ but from the lady and lord, in that their power is supreme over the mind as over the person, that they not only feed and clothe, but direct and teach. And whether consciously or not, you must be, in many a heart, enthroned. There is no putting by that crown; queens you must always be, — queens to your lovers; queens to your hus- bands and your sons ; queens of higher mystery to the world be- yond, which bows itself, and will for ever bow, before the myrtle crown, and the stainless sceptre, of womanhood. But, alas! you are too often idle and careless queens, grasping at majesty in the least things, while you abdicate it in the greatest, and, leaving misrule and violence to work their will among men, in defiance of the power which, holding straight in gift from the Prince of all Peace, the wicked among you betray, and the good forget. "Prince of Peace!" Note that name. When kings rule in that name, and nobles, and the judges of the earth, they also, in their narrow- place, and mortal measure, receive the power of it. There are no other rulers than they; other rule than theirs is but mis- rule ; they who govern verily "Dei gratia" are all princes, yes, or princesses, of peace. There is not a war in the world, no, nor an injustice, but you women are answerable for it; not in that you have provoked, but in that you have not hindered. Men, by their nature, are prone to fight; they will fight for any cause or for none. It is for you to choose their cause for them, and to for- bid them when there is no cause. There is no suffering, no in- justice, no misery in the earth, but the guilt of it lies with you. Men can bear the sight of it, but you should not be able to bear it. Men may tread it down without sympathy, in their own strug- gle ; but men are feeble in sympathy and contracted in hope ; it is you only who can feel the depths of pain, and conceive the way of its healing. Instead of trying to do this, you turn away from it ; you shut yourselves within your park walls and garden gates, and you are content to know that there is beyond them a whole world in wilderness, — a world of secrets which you dare not pene- trate and of suffering which you dare not conceive. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 240 I am surprised at no depths to which, when once warped from its honor, humanity can be degraded. I do not wonder at the miser's death, with his hands, as they relax, dropping gold. I do not wonder at the sensualist's life, with the shroud wrapped about his feet. I do not wonder at the single-handed murder of a single victim, done by the assassin in the darkness of the railway or reed-shadow of the marsh. I do not even wonder at the myriad- handed murder of multitudes, done boastfully in the daylight by the frenzy of nations, and the immeasurable, unimaginable guilt, heaped up from hell to heaven, of their priests and kings. But this is wonderful to me — oh, how wonderful ! to see the ten- der and delicate woman among you, with her child at her breast, and a power, if she would wield it, over it and over its father, purer than the air of heaven and stronger than the seas of earth ; to see her abdicate this majesty to play at precedence with her next-door neighbor ! This is wonderful — oh, wonderful ! — to see her, with every innocent feeling fresh within her, go out in the morning into her garden to play with the fringes of its guarded flowers, and lift their heads when they are drooping, with her happy smile upon her face and no cloud upon her brow, because there is a little wall around her place of peace ; and yet she knows, in her heart, if she would only look for its knowledge, that, out- side of that little rose-covered wall, the wild grass, to the horizon, is torn up by the agony of men, and beat level by the drift of their life-blood. Have you ever considered what a deep under-meaning there lies, or at least may be read, if we choose, in our custom of strew- ing flowers before those whom we think most happy? Do you suppose it is merely to deceive them into the hope that happiness is always to fall thus in showers at their feet? that the rough ground will be made smooth for them by depth of roses? So surely as they believe that, they will have, instead, to walk on bitter herbs and thorns. But it is not thus intended they should believe ; there is a better meaning in that old custom. The path of a good woman is indeed strewn with flowers ; but they rise behind her steps, not before them. "Her feet have touched the meadows, and left the daisies rosy." But it is little to say of a woman, that she only does not de- stroy where she passes. She should revive; the harebells should 250 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. bloom, not stoop, as she passes. You have heard it said, that flowers only flourish rightly in the garden of someone who loves them. I know you would like that to be true; you would think it a pleasant magic if you could flush your flowers into brighter bloom by a kind look upon them; nay, more, if your look had the power, not only to cheer but to guard them; if you could bid the black blight turn away, and the knotted caterpillar spare; it' you could bid the dew fall upon them in the drought, and say to tin- south wind, in frost: "Come, thou south, and breathe upon my garden, that the spices of it may flow out." This you would think a great thin-? And do you think it not a greater thing, that all this (and how much more than this!) you can do for fairer flowers than these, — flowers that could bless you for hav- ing blessed them, and will love you for having loved them; flow- ers that have eyes 1 : . ; d thoughts like yours, and lives like yours, which, once saved, you save t' ver? ts this only a little power? Far among the moorlands and the rocks, far in the darkness of the terrible streets, th Feel lorets are lying, with all their fresh leaves torn, ami their stems broken. Will you never go down to them, nor set them in order in their little fra- grant beds, nor fence them in their trembling from the fierce wind? Shall morning follow morning for you, hut not for them; and the dawn rise to watch, far away, those frantic dances of death; hut no dawn rise to breathe upon these living banks of wild violet and woodbine and rose, nor call to you, through your casement, — call, s me into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, h And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad And the musk of the roses blown?" Will you not go down among them — among those sweet living things? Still they turn to you, and for you and "the larkspur listens — I hear, I hear! And the lily whispers: I wait." "Come into the garden. Maud, For the black bat. night, has flown. Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate, alone." MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 251 Who is it, think you, who stands at the gate of this sweeter garden, alone, waiting for you? Did you ever hear, not of a Maud but a Madeleine, who went down to her garden in the dawn, and found One waiting at the gate, whom she supposed to be the gardener? Have you not sought Him often, — sought Him in vain, all through the night, sought Him in vain at the gate of that old garden where the fiery sword is set? He is never there ; but at the gate of this garden He is waiting always, — waiting to take your hand, ready to go down to see the fruits of the valley, to see whether the vine has flourished and the pomegranate budded. There you shall see with Him the little tendrils of the vines that His hand is guiding; there you shall see the pomegranate springing where His hand cast the sanguine seed ; more, you shall see the troops of the angel keepers that, with, their wings, wave away the hungry birds from the path- sides where He has sown, and call to each other between the vineyard rows, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes." Oh, you queens, you queens ! Among the hills and happy greenwood of this land of yours, shall the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; and in your cities, shall the stones cry out against you, that they are the only pillows where the Son of Man can lay His head ? SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE. BY SIDNEY LAXIER. Out of the hills of Habersham, Down in the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Ear from the valleys of Hall. 252 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. All down the hills of Habersham, All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried, Abide, abide, The wilful water-weeds held me thrall, The waving laurel turned my tide, The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay, The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide, Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valley of Hall. High over the hills of Habersham, Veiling the valley of Hall, The hickory told me manifold Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall Wrought me her shadowy self to hold, The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold Deep shades of the hills of Habersham. These glades in the valley of Hall. And oft in the hills of Habersham, And oft in the valley of Hall, The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl, And many a luminous jewel lone — Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, Ruby, garnet, and amethyst — Made lures with the lights of streaming stone In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, In the beds of the valleys of Hall. But oh. not the hills of Habersham, And oh, not the valleys of Hall Avail : I am fain for to water the plain. Downward the voices of Duty call — Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main, The dry fields burn and the mills are to turn, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 253 And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, And the lordly main from beyond the plain Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, Calls through the valleys of Hall. THE GREAT SCHOOLS OF THE WORLD. BY HON. JOHN P. JONES. [From speech delivered in the U. S. Senate, September 10, 1890.] The great schools of the world are no longer those in which the dead languages are taught. They are the mechanical work- shops, in which young men learn to build Corliss engines, Wal- than watches, dynamos, and the long list of other marvelous machines that but herald the approach of greater marvels. The professors of the new philosophy are not those who despise in- dustry; they are the chieftains of industry. "This is the stone which was set at naught of you builders, which is become the head of the corner." These are the schools — the true "universities" — that a nation needs. The instruction which they impart has all the accuracy of mathematics, all the grace of rhetoric, all the rhythm of poetry. The implements of thought are not words, but the tools of labor. The processes of analysis and synthesis are taught by real, not mimic, object-lessons. The constructive faculty is exer- cised where it should be exercised — in construction. The imagi- nation has free play in the realm of invention and experiment. The reasoning powers are disciplined to an extent unknown to the logicians. In the making of an argument men may err without detection; in the making of a watch or a window-sash they can- not do so. Says Macaulay: "Bacon has remarked that in all ages when philosophy was stationary the mechanical |rts went on improving. Why was this? Evidently because the mechanic was not content with so careless a mode of induction as served the purpose of the philoso- 254 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. phers. And why was the philosopher more easily satisfied than the mechanic? Evidently because the object of the mechanic was to mold things, while the object of the philosopher was only to mold words. Careful induction is not all necessary to the making of a good syllogism, but it is indispensable to the making of a good shoe." Men may take risks in the employment of a professor of belles- lettres ; they will take none in the employment of an engineer. The untrained head may do no harm; the unskilled hand may prove destructive. The workshop is the academia of the new philosophy. It is the fountain of thought, from which must flow the stream of invention that is to enrich and fructify the world. Who can prophesy the ultimate result of its work? Who would limit the bounty which it must confer on mankind? The conquest of forest and field, the civilization of man, was achieved not by literature, but by labor; not by the wise saws of soothsayers, the deductions of moralists, the eloquence of orators, or the rhymes of those who "yoked rich words together." A half-dozen simple tools tell the story of the early struggles. From these, by the cunning of brain and hand, have been evolved all the intricate contrivances that now constitute the extended paraphernalia of the work-hop. Whoever invented a new device and added it to the common stock was the true civilizer. If it be a benefaction to mankind to cause two blades of grass to grow where before but one had grown, it is no less a benefaction to multiply a hundredfold the power of the human arm. A country can have no source of power more enduring than a body of skilled and well-paid mechanics who, working and residing in centres or cities at short and convenient distances apart, spend their money in their own localities and furnish the most certain, convenient, and profitable market for the products of agriculture. I lay it down as a fundamental maxim that the highest agricultural prosperity can never be reached except in countries which do their own work ; in other words, in countries in which manufactures abound and in which the farms feed the factories. The law of orderly progress demands that a people shall develop all their powers. The aptitude of each will sup- plement the aptitudes of the others. To secure the largest achievement, manufactures must not only MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 255 be varied and generally dispersed throughout the country, but it is indispensable that they be long continued. The young of each generation must live in the presence of work and in the atmos- phere of production. They must be accustomed to the hum of industry. They must imbibe the spirit of exertion. They must grow up amid surroundings that will give them respect for man- ual labor, which they must identify with their future as with hon- orable and s< if-respecting utility. They must see no debasement in the hard hand and the soiled face — these are the "medals" and insignia of the new order; they must hear none in the rumble of machinery — it is the sign by which they conquer. A people accustomed to looking upon these things as humili- ating or as involving inferiority, cannot succeed. When men realize that there are no divisions in the guild of labor, and that all labor is noble and necessary, they will seek that to which they are adapted, and will pursue it with zest. For such men there is always a future. Zeal is the parent of promotion. Study and observation are the handmaids of progress. Those who laud the graces of poetry and the charms of rhetoric will do well to remember that a machine which runs with rhyth- mic beauty and irresistible power is more awe-inspiring, more eloquent, more noble, and infinitely more instructive and valuable to mankind than any poem ever inscribed. The power-loom, the spinning-jenny, the sewing-machine, the reaper, the steam-engine have done more to deliver the world from barbarism — to clothe, to feed, and to elevate the race morally, intellectually, and physi- cally, than all the works of poetry and rhetoric that the world has ever seen. The Corliss engine is an Iliad, the locomotive an anthem, the sewing-machine an idyl, the reaper an eclogue. These are the greatest achievements of man — the richest and ripest fruits of his culture and genius. Around these will the philosophers and litterateurs of the future admiringly cluster. In their praise will the muses sing, the poets indite, the seers foretell. In comparison with their deeds how insignificant the feats of Hector and Ajax, how repulsive the ex- ploits of Alexander and Caesar! 256 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. THE TEA-KETTLE AND THE CRICKET. From the "Cricket on the Hearth." BY CHARLES DICKENS. The kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on record to the end of time that she couldn't say which of them began it; but I say the kettle did. I ought to know, I hope ! The kettle began it, full five minutes by the little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the cricket uttered a chirp. Why, I am not naturally positive. Every one knows that I wouldn't set my own opinion against the opinion of Mrs. Peerybingle, un- less I were quite sure, on any account whatever. Nothing should induce me. But this is a question of fact. And the fact is that the kettle began it at least five minutes before the cricket gave any sign of being in existence. Contradict me, and I'll say ten. Let me narrate exactly how it happened. I should have pro- ceeded to do so, in my very first word, but for this plain con- sideration, — if I am to tell a story I must begin at the beginning; and how is it possible to begin at the beginning, without be- ginning at the kettle? It appeared as if there were a sort of match, or trial of skill, you must understand, between the kettle and the cricket. And this is what led to it, and how it came about. Mrs. Peerybingle, going out into the raw twilight and click- ing over the wet stones in a pair of pattens that worked innum- berable rough impressions of the first proposition in Euclid all about the yard, — Airs. Peerybingle filled the kettle at the water- butt. Presently returning, less the pattens (and a good deal less, for they were tall, and Mrs. Peerybingle was but short), she set the kettle on the fire. In doing which she lost her temper, or mislaid it for an in- stant ; for the water, being uncomfortably cold, and in that slippy, slushy, sleety sort of state wherein it seems to penetrate through every kind of substance, patten-rings included, had laid hold of Mrs. Peerybingle's toes, and even splashed her stockings. Besides, the kettle was aggravating and obstinate. It wouldn't MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 257 allow itself to be adjusted on the top bar; it wouldn't hear of accommodating itself kindly to the knobs of coal ; it would lean forward with a drunken air, and dribble — a very idiot of a kettle — on the hearth. It was quarrelsome, and hissed and sput- tered morosely at the fire. To sum up all, the lid, resisting Mrs. Peerybingle's fingers, first of all turned topsy-turvy, and then, with an ingenious per- tinacity deserving of a better cause, dived sideways in, down to the very bottom of the kettle ; and the hull of the Royal George has never made half of the monstrous resistance in coming out of the water which the lid of the kettle employed against Mrs. Peerybingle before she got it up again. It looked sullen and pig-headed enough, even then, carrying its handle with an air of defiance, and cocking its spout pertly and mockingly at Mrs. Peerybingle, as if it said, "I won't boil. Nothing shall induce me!" Now it was, you observe, that the kettle began to spend the evening. Now it was that the kettle, growing mellow and mu- sical, began to have irrepressible gurglings in the throat, and to indulge in short vocal snorts, which it checked in the bud, as if it hadn't quite made up its mind yet to be good company. Now it was that, after two or three such vain attempts to stifle its convivial sentiments, it threw off all moroseness, all reserve, and burst into a stream of song so cozy and hilarious as never maudlin nightingale yet formed the least idea of. And here, if you like, the cricket did chime in with chirrup, chirrup, chirrup of such magnitude, by way of chorus, with a voice so astoundingly disproportionate to its size, as compared with the kettle (size! you couldn't see it!) — that if it had then and there burst itself, like an overcharged gun, if it had fallen a victim on the spot, and chirruped its little body into fifty pieces, it would have seemed a natural and inevitable consequence, for which it had expressly labored. There was all the excitement of a race about it. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! cricket a mile ahead. Hum, hum, hum-m-m ! kettle mak- ing play in the distance, like a great top. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! cricket round the corner. Hum, hum, hum-m-m ! kettle sticking to him in his own way; no idea of giving in. Chirp, chirp, chirp, cricket fresher than ever. Hum, hum, hum-m-m ! kettle slow 258 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. and steady. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! cricket going in to finish him. Hum, hum, hum-m-m ! kettle not to be finished. Until at last they got so jumbled together, in the hurry-scurry, helter-skelter of the match, that whether the kettle chirped and the cricket hummed, or the cricket chirped and the kettle hummed, or they both chirped and both hummed, it would have taken a clearer head than yours or mine to have decided with certainty. Of this there is no doubt ; that the kettle and the cricket, at one and the same moment, and by some power of amalgamation best known to themselves, sent each his fireside song of comfort streaming into a ray of the candle that shone out through the window, and a long way down the lane. And this light, bursting on a certain person, who, on the instant, approached towards it through the gloom, expressed the whole thing to him literally in a twinkling, and cried. "Welcome home, old fellow! wel- come home, my boy!" This end attained, the kettle, being dead beat, builed over, and was taken off the tire. THE SULTAN'S CAREER. BY SIR EDWIN ARNOLD. On Xew Year's Night, in Eagdad, walked our King, Omar (Ibn Al-Khattab, Khalifa he), Commander of the Faithful, just and mild, With Abu Zeyd, his Minister. And bread Was dear, and poor folks suffered, since the rains Held off, till, in their grain-pits, dealers hid — Like gold and silver — all the corn and rice; Yet this the Sultan wist not, wandering Full of rich meats, and rosy with good cheer — And Abu Zeyd, behind him, fresh from feast — At night, in garments such as merchants wear, Hither and thither, up and down his town. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 259 So spied they presently a twinkling fire Under a garden wall, whereto they drew, Amind to find what wight on such a night Made lodging on the chilly waste. They see A woman, woe-begone, in hanging rags, Who blows, with pinched lips, at the leaves and sticks Under an earthen pot, where something boils — Or should boil, if that feeble flame would take — But while she strives, it dies ; and, at her side, Two hungry, wailing children moan anew. Then spake the Sultan, "Peace be unto thee ! My sister ! what is this thou dost here In the hard darkness, and the bitter cold, With thy twain babes?" "My lord !" the woman said, "Fain would I make a drink of water hot To warm the bellies of my little ones Who die of cold and famine ; but some day Allah shall settle this with him who rules, Omar the Sultan : He will answer fort That my pot boiled not, and we died like dogs." And answer gave the Sultan — sorely moved — "Think'st thou, O woman ! Omar knoweth this, Or, knowing, had not succored?" "Sir !" said she, "How dares he be a King, and rule our land, Holding the place of Allah over us, And not be 'ware how these, his mean ones, pinch In sight of lavish comfort of his Court, In smell of his kab'abs?" Then the King cried, To Aslam Abu Zeyd, "Come we away! I have a thing to do!" So parted those Quick for the palace, where they turn anon 260 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. Into a storeroom. Here our lord dislodged, From loaded shelves, a bag of wheaten flour, And, from another part, a close-sealed jar Of sheep's fat; and some salt, and cinnamon; Next, a dry kindling faggot ; "Load thou these," Quoth he, "upon my shoulders, Minister !" "Allah forbid !" cried Abu Zeyd. "But I Will hoist and carry. What! a hamal thou! The Emir of Believers !" "See now, Friend !" Replied the Sultan : "When comes Judgment Day, [s it thy back will bear the heavy sack Which holds thy Sovereign's bin-?" So Abu Zeyd Piled on his master mutton- fat and Hour, And salt, and cinnamon, and faggot-sticks; Which toilfully conveying, while the sweat Beaded the royal brow, the Sultan bore Back to the wall. There were those three forlorn, Mother and babes; and there our lord knelt down, And laid the wood fair underneath the pot, And set good blaze aglow ; then spread his skirt — Of silk, with pearls and turkis round the seams — To mix the flour and fat, and knead them in With salt and spice and sprinkled water — so As ye roll dumplings. Then he thrust them deep To bob and bubble in the goodly broth, Watched by those three; while, full solicitous, Omar— Crowned King of all the shining East— On hands and knees blew hard to fan the flame,' Scorching his golden beard; till, aptly cooked, With point of jeweled sword he spitted each And laid it in their laps. So those did eat, And eat. and eat again, of mutton-cakes; Then, joyful, wandered home, with sack and jar. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 261 But, backward pacing by his master's side, Quoth Zeyd: "Now by His name Who is the Truth! The fire hath scorched great holes in beard of thee That art the Lord's vice-gerent !" Omar said: "Peace! It is nothing, Minister; that flame Singeing my beard hath lighted up my heart." A PLEA FOR CUBAN LIBERTY. BY HON. JOHN M. THURSTON. [From speech delivered in United States Senate, March 24, i8g8.] I am here by command of silent lips 1 to speak once and for all upon the Cuban situation. I shall endeavor to be honest, con- servative, and just. I have no purpose to stir the public passion to any action not necessary and imperative to meet the duties and necessities of American responsibility, Christian humanity, and national honor. I would shirk this task if I could, but I dare not. I cannot satisfy my conscience except by speaking, and speaking now. I went to Cuba firmly believing that the condition of affairs there had been greatly exaggerated by the press, and my own efforts were directed in the first instance to the attempted ex- posure of these supposed exaggerations. There has undoubtedly been much sensationalism in the journalism of the time, but as to the condition of affairs in Cuba there has been no exaggera- tion, because exaggeration has been impossible. L T nder the inhuman policy of Weyler not less than 400,000 self- supporting, simple, peaceable, defenceless country people were driven from their homes in the agricultural portions of the Span- ish provinces to the cities, and imprisoned upon the barren waste outside the residence portions of these cities and within the lines of intrenchment established a little way beyond. Their humble 'Mrs. Thurston died in Cuba. Her last request was that her husband should do his utmost to secure intervention. 262 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. homes were burned, their fields laid waste, their implements of husbandry destroyed, their live stock and food supplies for the most part confiscated. Most of the people were old men, women, and children. They were thus placed in hopeless imprisonment, without shelter or food. There was no work for them in the cities to which they were driven. They were left there with nothing to depend upon except the scanty charity of the inhab- itants of the cities and with slow starvation their inevitable fate. The pictures in the American newspapers of the starving re- concentrados are true. They can_all be duplicated by the thou- sands. I never saw, and please God I may never again see, so deplorable a sight as the reconcentrados in the suburbs of Ma- tanzas. I can never forget to my dying day the hopeless anguish in their despairing eyes. Huddled about their little bark huts, they raised no voice of appeal to us for alms as we went among them. Their only appeal came from their sad eyes, through which one looks as through an open window into their agonizing souls. The Government of Spain has not and will not appropriate one dollar to save these people. They are now being attended, and nursed, and administered to by the charity of the United States. Think of the spectacle ! We are feeding these citizens of Spain; we are nursing their sick; we are saving such as can be saved, and yet there are those who still say it is right for us to send food, but we must keep hands off. I say that the time has come when muskets must go with the food. We asked the governor if he knew of any relief for these people except through the charity of the United States. He did not. We asked him, "When do you think the time will come that these people can be placed in a position of self-support?" He replied to us, with deep feeling, "Only the good God or the great Government of the United States can answer that question." I hope and believe that the good God by the great Government of the United States will answer that question. I shall refer to these horrible things no further. They are there. God pity me ; I have seen them ; they will remain in my mind forever — and this is almost the twentieth century. Christ died nineteen hundred years ago, and Spain is a Christian nation. She has set up more crosses in more lands, beneath more skies, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 263 and under them has butchered more people than all the other nations of the earth combined. Europe may tolerate her existence as long as the people of the Old World wish. God grant that before another Christmas morning the last vestige of Spanish tyranny and oppression will have vanished from the Western Hemisphere. I counselled silence and moderation from this floor when the passion of the nation seemed at white heat over the destruction of the Maine; but it seems to me the time for action has now come. No greater reason for it can exist to-morrow "than exists to-day. Every hour's delay only adds another chapter to the awful story of misery and death. Only one power can intervene — the United States of America. Ours is the one great nation of the New World, the mother of American republics. She holds a position of trust and responsibility toward the peoples and af- fairs of the whole Western Hemisphere. It was her glorious example which inspired the patriots of Cuba to raise the flag of liberty in her eternal hills. We cannot refuse to accept this re- sponsibility which the God of the universe has placed upon us as the one great power in the New World. We must act ! What shall our action be? Some say, The acknowledgment of the belligerency of the revolutionists. The hour and the opportunity for that have passed away. Others say, Let us by resolution or official proclamation recognize the independence of the Cubans. It is too late for even such recognition to be of great avail. Others say, Annexation to the United States. God forbid ! I would oppose annexation with my latest breath. The people of Cuba are not our people* ; they cannot assimilate with us; and beyond all that, I am utterly and unalterably opposed to any departure from the declared policy of the fathers, which would start this re- public for the first time upon a career of conquest and dominion utterly at variance with the avowed purposes and the manifest destiny of popular government. There is only one action possible, if any is taken ; that is, inter- vention for the independence of the island. Against the inter- vention of the United States in this holy cause there is but one voice of dissent ; that voice is the voice of the money-changers. They fear war ! Not because of any Christian or ennobling senti- ment against war and in favor of peace, but because they fear 264 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. that a declaration of war, or the intervention which might result in war, would have a depressing effect upon the stock market. Let them go. They do not represent American sentiment ; they do not represent American patriotism. Let them take their chances as they can. Their weal or woe is of but little impor- tance to the liberty-loving people of the United States. They will not do the fighting ; their blood will not flow ; they will keep on dealing in options on human life. Let the men whose loyalty is to the d # ollar stand aside while the men whose loyalty is to the flag come to the front. There are those who say that the affairs of Cuba are not the affairs of the United States; who insist that we can stand idly by and see that island devastated and depopulated, its business interests destroyed, its commercial intercourse with us cut off, its people starved, degraded, and enslaved. It may be the naked legal right of the United States to stand thus idly by. I have the legal right to pass along the street and see a helpless dog stamped into the earth under the heel- of a ruffian. 1 can pass by and say, that is not my dog. 1 can sit in my comfortable parlor, and through my plate-glass window see a fiend outraging a helpless woman near by, and I can legally say, this is no affair of mine — it is not happening on my premises. But if I do, I am a coward, and a cur. unfit to live, and, God knows, unfit to die. And yet I cannot protect the dog nor save the woman without the exercise of force. We cannot intervene and save Cuba with- out the exercise of force, and force means war; war means blood. The lowly Nazarene on the shores of Galilee preached the divine doctrine of love, "Peace on earth, good will toward men." Not peace on earth at the expense of liberty and humanity. Not good will toward men who despoil, enslave, degrade, and starve to death their fellow-men. I believe in the doctrine of Christ. I believe in the doctrine of peace; but men must have liberty be- fore there can come abiding peace. When has a battle for hu- manity and liberty ever been won except by force? What barri- cade of wrong, injustice, and oppression was ever carried except by force ? Force compelled the signature of unwilling royalty to the great Magna Charta ; force put life into the Declaration of Indepen- dence and made effective the Emancipation Proclamation; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 265 force waved the flag of revolution over Bunker Hill and marked the snows of Valley Forge with blood-stained feet ; force held the broken line of Shiloh, climbed the flame-swept hill at Chattanooga, and stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights ; force marched with Sherman to the sea, rode with Sheridan in the Valley of the Shenandoah, and gave Grant victory at Appomattox; force saved the Union, kept the stars in the flag, made "niggers" men. The time for God's force has come again. Let the impassioned lips of American patriots once more take up the song : "In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigured you and me. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, For God is marching on." Others may hesitate, others may procrastinate, others may plead for further diplomatic negotiation, which means delay, but for me, I am ready to act now, and for my action I am ready to an- swer to my conscience, my country, and my God. SHYLOCK TO ANTONIO. BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Signor Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still I have borne it with a patient shrug; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well, then, it now appears, you need my help : Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say — "Shylock, we would have moneys." You say so; You that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 266 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. Over your threshold ; moneys is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say — "Hath a dog^money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this — "Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; You spurned me such a day; another time You called me dog; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much moneys!" TIAXD-CAR 412. BY JOHN" HEARD, JR. [By permission of the Century and of the author.] Matt Murphy was roadmaster at Campbell's Point, on the Canadian Pacific Railway. One day. while he was dozing in his office, the door opened with a bang, and the operator, in a state of breathless excitement, dashed into the room. "There's a bush-fire below the long bridge, Mr. Murphy." he called out; "the wind is this way. and the Pacific Emigrant is due in an hour. What shall we do?" Matt started in his chair and repeated the man's words in a dazed sort of way. "Bush-fire — and they are due in an hour!" Then he got up, staggered across the room, and leaned against the wall. The baggage-master, who had overheard, stepped in from the adjoining office, and the operator with a shrug of his shoulders, turned to him and said in a perplexed way : "Murphy's drunk, as usual. What's to be done?" "Drunk, you idiot!" cried Xolan, indignantly; "his wife and kids are on that train." Murphy sprang out on the platform, where the men were col- lecting to hear the news. "Boys," he cried in a voice that seemed to rasp in his throat, "boys, look a-here ! I want three good men to gp to death with MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 267 me ! Haul up a pumper — 412 ! Catch a hold there ; now heave away — so! Drop her on the track — that's it! Slap on the oil, you fellows. Two hundred lives ! Good heavens ! Quick ! Confound you ! Off with your shirts and hurry ! All aboard ! That's the style! Now come along, boys, and work!" . . He was the first on the car and took the rear handle behind the brake. Long Mike, the Finlander, Jim Reeves and ''Dumb Dick" jumped on after him; an oil can, a monkey-wrench and an axe were thrown on. The men gave them a shove to start, and away they went down the long grade, fifteen miles an hour. Matt leaned over and slipped the key of the switch to Jim Reeves, who was in front. "If we haven't time to unlock her, Jim," he said, so quietly that it hurt the men to hear him, "jump on the lever and break the chain. Now, fellows, heave away for all you're worth !" The first six miles passed quickly; to right and left the road and the trees flew backwards, and nothing was heard but the short, quick panting of the men, the burr of the cogs, and the clickety-click, clickety-click of the wheels over the fish-plates. On the half-mile up grade to Bass's Falls they had to slacken up a little and hang on the handles, but with their heads down and every muscle braced they worked on steadily. The top of the grade was reached ; then came a level run of two miles be- fore the curve to the bridge. "Steady, boys, steady ! and mind the brake, Jim ; we're right on the down grade." At the end of the level was the grade to the bridge and the fire; beyond the fire the bridge, the switch, and the fated train with its human cargo hurrying to destruction, for the wind was high, and the engineer would naturally think the fire far away until he was in the very midst of it. Then the struggle began. The smoke ran along the embank- ment towards them in great flying gusts, so dense they could barely see the platform of the car ; the heat became intense, but they never wavered. All around them the trees were falling in rows. Great trunks tottered and fell with a booming crash like the sound of distant cannon. The hot air quivered around them, and they gasped spasmodically and laughed hysterically between short howls of pain. Ahead all was red and black — a sea of 268 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. fire. Murphy called out once more : "Steady, boys, steady !" and they plunged into it resolutely, with the desperation of a wounded bull charging on the espada's blade. "Steady, my men ! up and down, up and down ! stick to her, lads; it'll soon be over now." Then the flames closed upon them, and as they lowered their heads before the whirlwind of fire and smoke that was hurled at them they shivered at the crisp crepitation of their hair and beards, and felt the hot grip of the fire fasten on them as they writhed in pain. Something struck the car, and it reeled for a moment. "Stand by her, boys; steady there!" They grasped the han- dles again and struggled on ; by the hollow sound of the wheels they knew that they were on the bridge at last, and it lent them fresh strength. Then something struck them hard. "Hard, hard at work there! Jim, Mike, Dick — all of you! — pump away, for Heaven's sake, boys! we are nearly there. Try again! the switch, boys, mind the switch! All together now, heave!" But strain as they might — and they strained with a fierce, des- perate energy, for there was something in Murphy's tone that went to their hearts — the car was fast and would not move. Then they heard a wild cry above the thundering crash of the bridge as it fell from under them ; the car was suddenly shot ahead and sprang away easily over the debris that lay across the iron. The trestle was passed ; but at the rear handle Mike stood alone ; his partner. Matt Murphy, was gone ; that last falling brace had struck him squarely across the arms, and when he saw that he could no longer pull his weight, he jumped off and put all his remaining strength in that last push that sent them through into the com- parative quiet beyond. "Steady, boys, and Heaven be with you !" came once more from out the chaos of flames behind them, and that was all. On the other side, beyond the clay cut, they heard the bellowing whistle of the engine ; a few more strokes, and they reached the switch. "Jump, Jim; for Heaven's sake, jump quick!" The next moment the train swept round the curve over the frog and glided smoothly down the siding, where it stopped; but the hand-car had disappeared. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 269 When they came back they found Jim Reeves's body by the broken lever of the switch ; Long Mike, too, they picked up beside him, with a shattered leg and an ugly gash across the forehead., while, on the other side of the track, "Dumb Dick" was clutch- ing tne broken handle of the hand-car and sobbing like a child. Strong men lifted their crushed bodies with tender care, and side by side they laid them on a bed of fragrant balsam boughs ; a woman's light hand wiped away the blood from Mike's rough face and held moist linen to his bleeding brow. Soon he opened his eyes and looked solemnly, with a puzzled expression, into the anxious faces of the women and children that stood around him, silently watching for his recovery. Then he remembered all ; for a moment a bright smile lit up his plain features and died away slowly as he caught sight of his companions stretched beside him. With a slight quiver, Long Mike passed away to join his comrades. Of the four brave men who so nobly risked their lives, to save the fated train, "Dumb Dick" was the only one left to tell the awful story. THE MARCH OF COMPANY A. BY KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD. [From the Century, by permission of the authors and the publishers.] "Forward, march !" was the captain's word, And the tramp of a hundred men was heard. As they formed into line, in the morning gray, Shoulder to shoulder went Company A. Out of the shadow into the sun, A hundred men that moved as one; Out of the dawning into the day, A glittering file went Company A. Marching along to the rendezvous By grassy meadows the road ran through, By springing cornfields and orchards gay, Forward, forward, went Company A. 270 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. And the pink and white of the apple trees, Falling fast on the fitful breeze, Scattered its dewy, scented spray Straight in the faces of Company A. A breath like a sigh ran through the ranks Treading those odorous blossom-banks For the orchard hillsides far away, The northern hillsides of Company A. "Forward, march!" — and the dream was sped; Out of the pine wood straight ahead Clattered a troop of the Southern gray Face to face with Company A. Forth with a flash in the Southern sun A hundred bayonets leaped like one. Sudden drum-beat and bugle-play Sounded the charge for Company A. "Halt!"' What is here? A slumbering child, Roused by the blast of the bugle wild, Between the ranks of the blue and gray, Right in the path of Company A. Nothing knowing of North or South, Her dimpled finger within her mouth, Her gathered apron with blossoms gay, She stared at the guns of Company A. Straightway set for a sign of truce Whitely a handkerchief fluttered loose, As under the steel of the Southern gray Galloped the captain of Company A. To his saddle-bow he swung the child, With a kiss on the baby lips that smiled, While the boys in blue and the boys in gray Cheered for the captain of Company A. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS, 271 Forth from the ranks of "his halted men, While the wild hurrahs rang out again, The Southern leader spurred his way To meet the captain of Company A. Out of the arms that held her safe He took with a smile the little waif. A grip of the hand 'twixt blue and gray, And back rode the captain of Company A. Up there, in the distant cottage door, A mother, clasping her child once more, Shuddered at sight of the smoke-cloud gray Shrouding the path of Company A. A little later, and all was done — The battle over, the victory won. Nothing left of the pitiless fray That swept the ranks of Company A. Nothing left — save the bloody stain Darkening the orchard's rosy rain. Dead the chief of the Southern gray, And dead the captain of Company A. Fallen together the gray and blue, Gone to the final rendezvous. A grave to cover, a prayer to say. And — "Forward, march !" went Company A. LIBERTY. BY HOX. CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. [From oration delivered at the unveiling of the Bartholdi Statue, October 28, 1SS6.] The spirit of liberty embraces all races in common brother- hood ; it voices in all languages the same needs and aspirations. The full power of its expansive and progressive influence can- 272 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. not be reached until wars cease, armies are disbanded, and inter- national disputes are settled by lawful tribunals and the prin- ciples of justice. Then the people of every nation, secure from invasion and free from the burdens and menace of great arma- ments, can calmly and dispassionately promote their own happi- ness and prosperity. The marvellous development and progress of the Republic is due to the fact that in rigidly adhering to the advice of Washington for absolute neutrality and non-interfer- ence in the politics and policies of other governments, we have avoided the necessity of depleting .our industries to feed our armies, of taxing and impoverishing our resources to carry on war, and of limiting our liberties to concentrate power in our government. Our great civil strife with all its expenditures of blood and treasure, was a terrible sacrifice for freedom. The results are so immeasurably great that by comparison the cost is insignificant. The development of liberty was impossible while she was shackled to the slave. The divine thought which in- trusted to the conquered the full measure of home rule, and ac- corded to them an equal share of imperial power, was the in- spiration of God. With sublime trust it left to liberty the eleva- tion of the freedman to political rights and the conversion of the rebel to patriotic citizenship. The rays from this torch illuminate a century of unbroken friendship between France and the United States. Peace and its opportunities for material progress and the expansion of popular liberties send from here a fruitful and noble lesson to all the world. It will teach the people of all countries that in curbing the ambitions and dynastic purposes of princes and privileged classes, and in cultivating the brotherhood of man, lies the true road to their enfranchisement. The friendship of individuals, their unselfish devotion to each other, their willingness to die in each other's stead, are the most tender and touching of human records ; they are the inspiration of youth and the solace of old age ; but nothing human is so beautiful and sublime as two great peoples of alien race and language transmitting down the ages a love begotten in gratitude and strengthening as they increase in power and assimilate in their institutions and liberties. The French alliance which enabled us to voice our indepen- dence is the romance of history. It overcame improbabilities im- MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 273 possible in fiction, and its results surpass the dreams of imagina- tion. The most despotic of kings, surrounded by the most ex- clusive of feudal aristocracies, sending fleets and armies officered by the scions of the proudest of nobilities to fight for subjects in revolt and the liberties of the common people, is a paradox be- yond the power of mere human energy to have wrought or solved. The march of this mediaeval chivalry across our States — respect- ing persons and property as soldiers never had before ; never tak- ing an apple or touching a fence-rail without permission and payment ; treating the ragged Continentals as if they were knights in armor and of noble ancestry; captivating our grandmothers by their courtesy and our grandfathers by their courage, remains un- equalled in the poetry of war. It is the most magnificent tribute in history to the volcanic force of ideas and the dynamic power of truth, though the crust of the globe imprison them. In the same ignorance and fearlessness with which a savage plays about a powder magazine with a torch, the Bourbon King sought relief from cloying pleasures, and vigor for enervated minds, in permit- ting and encouraging the loftiest genius and the most impassioned eloquence of the time to discuss the rights and liberties of man. With the orator the themes were theories which fired only his imagination, and with a courtier they were pastimes or jests. Neither speakers nor listeners saw any application of their ennob- ling sentiments to the common mass and grovelling herd, whose industries they squandered in riot and debauch and whose bodies they hurled against battlement and battery to gratify ambition or caprice. But these revelations illuminated many an ingenious soul among the young aristocracy, and with distorted rays pene- trated the Cimmerian darkness which developed the people. They bore fruit in the mind and heart of one youth to whom America owes much and France everything, the Marquis de La Fayette.. As the centuries roll by and in the fulness of time the rays of Liberty's torch are the beacon-lights of the world, the central niches in the earth's Pantheon of Freedom will be filled by the figures of Washington and La Fayette. I devoutly believe that from the Unseen and the Unknown two great souls have come to participate in this celebration, the faith in which they died fulfilled, the cause for which they battled tri- umphant, the people they loved in the full enjoyment of the rights 274 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. for which they labored and fought and suffered, the spirit voices of Washington and La Fayette join in the glad acclaim of France and the United States to Liberty Enlightening the World. WHIP POOR WILL. BY M. M. FOLSOM. When purpling shadows westward creep And stars through crimson curtains peep, And south winds sing themselves to sleep; From woodlands heavy with perfume Of spicy bud and April bloom Comes through the tender twilight gloom, Music most mellow, "Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will. Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will— Will, oh!" The bosom of the brook is filled With new alarm, the forest thrilled With startled echoes, and most skilled To run a labyrinthine race. The fireflies light their lamps to chase The culprit through the darkling space — Mischievous fellow, 'AVhip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will. Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will— Will, oh!" From hill to hill the echoes fly, The marshy brakes take up the cry. And where the slumbering waters lie In calm respose, and slyly feeds The snipe among the whispering reeds. The tale of this wild sprite's misdeeds Troubles the billow, MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 275 "Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will— Will, oh ! W r hip po' Will, Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will— Will, oh !" And where is he of whom they speak? Is he just playing the hide and seek, Among the thickets up the creek? Or is he resting from his play In some cool grotto, far away, Where lullaby crooning zephyrs stray, Smoothing his pillow, "Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will— Will, oh! Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will— Will, oh!" THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. FROM THE BIBLE. Blessed are the poor in spirit : for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteous- ness : for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers : for they shall be called the chil- dren of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake : for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile ye, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven : for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. Ye are the salt of the earth : but if the salt have lost his savour, 276 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill can not be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets : I am not come to destroy but to fulfil. For verily 1 say unto you, Till Heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be ful- filled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least command- ments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. Fur I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall ex- ceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven. Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judg- ment : But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca. shall be in danger of the council ; but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there remem- berest that thy brother hath aught against thee; Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift. Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou has paid the uttermost farthing. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 277 Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery : But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee : for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee : for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. It hath been said, Whosoever shall put away his wife, let him give her a writing of divorcement : But I say unto you, That whosoever shall put away his wife, saving for the cause of fornication, causeth her to commit adul- tery : and whosoever shall marry her that is divorced committeth adultery. Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths: But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God's throne : Nor by the earth ; for it is his footstool : neither by Jerusalem ; for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea ; Nay, nay : for what- soever is more than these cometh of evil. Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth : But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil : but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. 278 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neigh- bor, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you ; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect. FRANCE AMJ ROCHAMBEAU BY HON. HENRY CABOT LODGE. [From address delivered at the unveiling of the statue of Rochambeau. at Washington, May 25, Again France appears upon the continent where for many years she had played such a great part and had fought so bravely and so unavailingly for dominion. The opportunity had come to wreak an ample vengeance on the power which had driven her from Canada. France would have been more or less than human if she had not grasped the opportunity at once so satisfying to wounded pride and so promising politically. Covertly at first she aided the English colonies, and after the surrender of Bur- govne at Saratoga the treaty of alliance was signed and France entered into war with Great Britain. The French government aided us with money and with men, by land and by sea, but the decisive force was that which landed at Newport in the long July days of 1780. To that brave, well-officered, highly disciplined army we raise a monument to-day by placing here in the nation's capital the statue of its commander. For their service and for his own we MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 279 owe him a debt of gratitude for which we should here make last- ing acknowledgment, one which will stand unchanged beneath the sunshine and the rain long after the words we speak shall have been forgotten. Rochambeau reached the United States at a dark hour for the American cause. The first fervor of resistance had cooled, the active fighting had subsided in the North, Congress had grown feeble and inert, government and finance both dragged heavily and it seemed as if the revolution so successful in the field would founder upon the rocks of political and executive incapacity. Washington and the army in the midst of almost unparalleled difficulties alone kept the cause alive. It was a great relief to the heavily burdened General to meet such a man as Rochambeau, and yet even then as he turned back with lightened heart and lifted hopes the news of Arnold's trea- son smote him on his arrival at West Point. The summer had gone and nothing had been done. Then Rochambeau was unwill- ing to move without further reinforcements, and Washington was struggling desperately to wring from a hesitating Congress and from reluctant States the men, money and supplies abso- lutely essential, if the great opportunity which had now come was not to pass away unused. So the winter wore on and the spring came, and in May Washington and Rochambeau were again in consultation. Washington was determined to strike a fatal blow somewhere. But the one vital condition was still lacking. Washington knew that he must command the sea, if only for a month, at the point where he was to deliver the decisive blow. So the days slipped by, the summer waned, and then of a sudden the great condition sprang into life. De Grasse, to whom we owe a debt as great as to Rochambeau, appeared in the Chesapeake with his fleet. No longer was there room for doubt. Cornwallis in Vir- ginia was clearly now the quarry for the allied forces. Time forbids me to tell the brilliant story of that campaign ; of the manner in which De Grasse was induced to bring his squadron from the North; of the adroitness with which Clinton was deceived in New York ; of the skill and rapidity with which the French and American armies were hurried from New York to the Chesapeake and thence to Yorktown. The great, the 280 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. golden moment so longed for by Washington, when he could unite both land and sea power, had at last arrived. Through all the months of weary waiting, through the weeks of rapid march and the hurrying days of siege and battle there shine out very brightly the fine qualities of the French general. Nothing is more difficult than the management in war of allied forces. Here there was never a jar. Rochambeau was large- minded enough to understand the greatness of Washington, to realize the height of mind and the power of character which in- vested the American leader with a dignity beyond aught that royal birth or kingly title could confer. No small jealousies marred their intercourse. They wrought together for a common cause. Across the square there stands the statue of La Fayette. He brought no army like Rochambeau; no fleet like De Grasse. He came by no command of his King. Yet has he always been nearer to the hearts of American- than any man not of their own people. The reason is not far to seek. He came of his own ac- cord, and brought with him the sympathy of France. He repre- sented the new spirit of a new time. Purposes of state, calcula- tions of chances, selfish desires might guide the French govern- ment, but La Fayette was the living embodiment of the sympathy of the French people for the cause of the United States. He came because he loved the cause and had faith in it, and so the American people gave faith and love to him. We unveil this statue in honor of a brave soldier who fought by the side of Washington. We place it here to keep his memory fresh in remembrance and as a monument of our gratitude to France. But let us not forget that we also commemorate here the men who first led in arms the democratic movement which during a century of conflict has advanced the cause of freedom and popular government throughout the world of Western civil- ization. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CASE. BY ELEANOR KIRK. I've nothing to say, John Henry, nothing at all to say ; For what's the use of shouting when a whirlwind's under way? And when the blizzard's ever the mischief will be done; MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 281 Then 'twill be too late to talk, though the trouble's just begun. You're anxious now for my advice; 'twould make a dead man grin, Who'd danced to the usual fiddling in this rare old world of sin, To hear the same old story, and told in the same old way; I've nothing to say, John Henry, nothing at all to say. It isn't so long ago, my boy, not so very long ago, That I stood before my father, in the self-same way you know. I was mad in love, you rascal, and she was gone on me, And before we'd asked permission we'd pledged ourselves, you see, To walk barefoot through Tophet if the old folks made a row, — And that's exactly what you've done, I'd take my solemn vow. It's only just a change in time, yesterday and to-day: I've nothing to say, John Henry, nothing at all to say. It wouldn't have done a bit of good if my father had preached to me ; The old man knew it well enough, and so he let me be. But tears were in his eyes, my boy, his voice was strained and low, As he took me by the arm and said : "I loved your mother so, And yet I made her life a hell for twenty years or more, Till the Lord got tired of seeing it, and opened wide the door. You've got the same blood in you, the same provoking way: I've nothing to say, John Henry, nothing at all to say." I called the old man a croaker, exactly as you'll call me ; But time avenged the epithet — a prophet he proved to be. And now the scene's repeated, and the story I could tell : If 'twas any use to do it, would match your granddad's well. 'Twas billiards, club, and whiskey : the blizzard of love was past, And I. a man and a husband, with a woman shackled fast, Was free to do as I fancied — I did it night and day: I've nothing to say, John Henry, nothing at all to say. In Heaven's name, what is it that makes us men so blind, So careless, so indifferent, so brutally unkind? 282 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. I can see your mother now in her loneliness and pain, As she watched for my home-coming, through the tears that fell like rain. I called it foolish sniffling, and then she'd try to smile, And tell me how she loved me, a-sobbing all the while. My God ! I see her sweet dead face a thousand times a day ! I've nothing to say. John Henry, nothing at all to say. THE RELIGION OF TROOPER PETER HALKET. A Story of South Africa. BY OLIVE SCHREINER. A great stillness settled down on the camp; except where the sentinel paced up and down before the captain's tent nol a creature stirred. The midday heat was intense. At last there was a sound of some one breaking through the long grass and bushes. The figure of a man emerged, bearing in one hand a gun. and in the other a bird which he had shot. He was evidently an Englishman. He came up to the Colonial and dropped the bird before him. "That is all I've got," he said. The Colonial raised his head, and, without taking his elbows from the ground, took up the bird. "I'll put it into the pot," he said. '"Knocked out?" "Oh. no. I can stand it well enough. What's Halket doing over there?" "He and the Captain had a row this morning." The Englishman looked keenly over the bushes where Halket's bent head might be seen as he paced to and fro. "What's he doing out there in the blazing sun?" "He's on sruard." said the Colonial. "You see, some of the men went down into the river to look for fresh pools of water, and they found ? nigsrer hidden away in a hole in the bank not five hundred yards from here! He'd evidently been there a long time. The floor was full of fish bones he'd caught in the pool, and a bit of root like a stick, half-gnawed through. He'd got MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 283 two bullet wounds in the thigh, but he could walk already. It's evident he was just waiting till we were gone to clear off after his people. Well, they hauled him up before the Captain, and he said the nigger was a spy, and was to be hanged to-morrow. He made the fellows tie him up to that little tree yonder, with riems around his legs, and riems around his waist, and a riem around his neck." "What did the native say?," csked the Englishman. "Oh, he didn't say anything. There wasn't a soul in the camp coufd have understood him if he had. He didn't try to fight when the boys caught him; just stared in front of him. Well, we'd just got him fixed up, and the captain was just going into his tent to have a drink when up steps Halket, and pulls his front lock. He begins, 'Sir, may I speak to you?' in a formal kind of way, like a fellow introducing a deputation, and then all of a sudden starts off; you never heard such a thing! — How did we know this nigger was a spy at all. It would be a terrible thing to kill him if we weren't quite sure. Perhaps he was hiding there because he was wounded. And then he broke out that, after all, ' these niggers were men fighting for their country. We would fight against the French if they came and took England from us ; and the niggers were brave men. Every five minutes he'd pull his forelock, and say 'please, sir' — and if we have to fight against them we ought to remember they're fighting for freedom. We shouldn't shoot wounded prisoners when they were black if we wouldn't shoot them if they were white ! And then he broke out with a pure unmitigated Exeter Hall ! All men were brothers, and God loved a black man as well as a white. We ought to give him food for the road, and tell him to go back to his people, and tell them we hadn't come to take their land, but to teach them and love them. 'It's hard to love a nigger, Captain,' he said, 'but we must try it !' 'I'm an unlearned, igno- rant man, Captain, but I must stand by this nigger. He's got no one else !' And then he says : 'If you let me take him up to Lo Magundis. sir; I'm not afraid, and I'll tell the people there it's not their land and their women we want. It's them to be our brothers and love us. If you'll only let me go, sir, I'll go and make peace. Give the man to me, sir!'" The Colonial shook with laughter. 284 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. "What did the Captain say?" asked the Englishman. "The Captain! Well, he just stood there, with his arms hang- ing down at each side of him, and his eyes staring, and his face getting redder and redder; and as soon as Halket turned away he started swearing, but he got the tail of one oath hooked on to the head of another. And when he'd finished and got sane a bit, he said Halket was to walk up and down there all day and keep watch on the nigger. And he gave orders that if the big troop didn't come up to-night that first thing in the morning Halket was to shoot him." That evening the men sat eating their suppers round the fires; the big Colonial ladled out the mealies and rice into tin plates, and passed them round to the men. Presently he passed one to Halket, who lay half behind him. leaning on his elbow. For a while Halket ate nothing, then he took a few mouthfuls, and again lay on his elbow. "You are eating nothing, Halket," said the Englishman, cheerily. "I am not hungry now," he said. After a while he took out his red handkerchief, and emptied carefully into it the contents of the plate, and tied it up into a bundle. He set it beside him on the ground, and again lay on his elbow. After a while he took out from his belt a small hunting-knife, with a rough, wooden handle. A small flat stone lay near him, and he passed the blade slowly up and down on it, now and then taking it up, and feeling the edge with his finger. After a while he put it back in his belt, and rose slowly, taking up his small bundle, and walked away to the tent. At ten o'clock all the camp was asleep, excepting the two men told off to keep guard. In the Captain's tent a light was kept burning all night. By half-past one the moon had gone down. Then Peter Halket rose up; softly he lifted the canvas and crept out. On his arm was tied his red handkerchief with its contents. On tiptoe he followed the little footpath that the men had trodden going down to the river for water. It led straight up to the Captain's tent, and the little flat-topped tree before it, with its white stem, and its two gnarled branches spread out on either side. Far over the other side of the camp the two men who were on guard stood chatting by the fire. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 285 For a moment Peter Halket stood motionless; then he walked up to the tree. The black man hung against the white stem, so closely bound to it that they seemed one. His hands were tied to his sides, and his head drooped to his breast. The riems had cut a little into his ankles, and a small flow of blood had made the ground below his feet dark. Peter Halket touched him softly on the arm, then shook it slightly. The man opened his eyes slowly and looked at Peter from under his weary eyebrows. Peter put up his fingers to his own lips — "Hus-h! hus-h !" he said. The man hung torpid, still looking at Peter. Quickly Peter Halket knelt down, and took the knife from his belt. In an instant the riems that bound the feet were cut through; in another he had cut the riems from the waist and neck. The riems dropped to the ground from the arms, and the man stood free. Like a dazed, dumb creature he stood, with his head still down, eyeing Peter. Instantly Peter slipped the red bundle from his arm into the man's passive hand. "Hamba ! Sucka ! Go !" he whispered, motioning with his hand. In an instant a gleam of intelligence shot across the face, then a wild transport. Without a word, without a sound, as the tiger leaps when the wild dogs are on it. with one long, smooth spring, as though unwounded and unhurt, he turned and disappeared into the grass. It closed behind him, but as he went the twigs and leaves cracked under his tread. The Captain threw back the door of his tent. "Who is there?" he cried. Peter Halket stood below the tree with the knife in his hand. And one hour after Peter Halket had stood outside the tent, looking up at the stars he was lying under the little tree, with the red sand trodden down over him, in which a black man's and a white man's blood were mingled. 286 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR. BY SAMUEL FERGUSON. Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged ; 'tis at a white heat now ; The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though on the forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound; And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare; Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there. The windlass strains the tackle chains, the black mound heaves below, And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe; It rises, mar-, rends all outright — O Vulcan, what a glow! 'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright; the high sun shines not so: The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery, fearful show; The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy, lurid row Of smiths, that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe; As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster slow Sinks on the anvil — all about the faces fiery grow — "Hurrah!*' they shout — "leap out! — leap out!" bang, bang, the sledges go. Leap out, leap out, my masters ! leap out and lay on load ! Let's forge a goodly anchor, a bower, thick and broad For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I bode, And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous road; The low reef roaring on her lee, the roll of ocean poured From stem to stern, sea after sea, the main-mast by the board ; The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats stove at the chains ; But courage still, brave mariners, the bower yet remains. And not an inch to flinch he deigns save when ye pitch sky-high. Then moves his head, as though he said, "Fear nothing — here am I !" MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 287 Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time, Your blows make music sweeter far than any steeple's chime; But while ye swing your sledges, sing; and let the burden be, The anchor is the anvil king, and royal craftsmen we. Strike in, strike in; the sparks begin to dull their rustling red; Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped ; Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery, rich array, For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay; Our anchor soon must change the lay of merry craftsmen here, For the yeo-heave-o, and the heave away, and the sighing sea- man's cheer. In livid and obdurate gloom, he darkens down at last, A shapely one he is and strong, as e'er from cat was cast. A trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou had'st life like me, What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep-green sea ! O deep-sea diver, who might then behold such sights as thou ? The hoary monster's palaces! methinkst what joy 'twere now To go plump, plunging down amid the assembly of the whales, And feel the churned sea round me boil beneath their scourging tails ! Then deep in tanglewoods to fight the fierce sea-unicorn, And send him foiled ?nd bellowing back, for all his ivory horn; To leave the subtle sworder-fish, of bony blade forlorn, And for the ghastly grinning shark, to laugh his jaws to scorn. O broad-armed fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal thine? The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons, that tugs thy cable line ; And night by night 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day. Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play; But, shamer of our little sports, forgive the name I gave ; A fisher's joy is to destroy — thine office is to save. O lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but understand "Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that dripping band, Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round about thee bend, 288 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient friend; O couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee, Thine iron side would swell with pride, thou'dst leap within the sea! Give honor to their memories, who left the pleasant strand To shed their blood so freely for\he love of Fatherland — Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy churchyard grave So freely for a restless bed amid the tossing wave — O, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung, Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes among! GOOD COURAGE. BY REV. JOHN \V. CHADWICK. [Extract from sermon delivered in Brooklyn, N. Y., October, 1899.] Hero worship comes as easy to mankind as stars to nightfall or as fragrance to the rose. It is frequently pathetic, sometimes tragical, to observe out of what stuff the hero is made. In the case of Admiral Dewey, it would certainly appear that there is no incongruity between the popular hero and the actual man ; or, if any, that the actual man, in his simplicity and quietness and large humanity, is greater than the hero as popu- larly conceived or concretely realized. The popular estimate has been somewhat misplaced, in that the significance of his distin- guished victory was not so much in its quality of heedless daring as in its quality of foresight and its calculation of the means pro- portioned to the end. Had Dewey, as the popular imagination has conceived, rushed pell-mell into Manila Bay, regardless of the possible torpedoes that might blow his vessels heaven high, and equally regardless of the strength and character of the enemy awaiting him off Cavite, his courage would have been fool-cour- age, his victory would have been a piece of luck entirely unde- served. Much risk there was, no doubt, but the good general or MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 289 naval commander, when any choice is left him, is bound to have good reasons for believing that he will succeed before he hurls his army or his ships upon the embattled foe. What we praise Admiral Dewey for is for understanding his business and doing it promptly and effectively. That the form of courage which manifests itself in war has im- mense attractions for a great many people, old and young, there is not the slightest doubt. War is as much as slavery zcas a sur- vival in culture, a relic of barbarism. But, as in slavery there were elements which to some people are so attractive in the retro- spect that they weep for the departed days, so it is with war. It affords an opportunity for the display of virtues of the finest quality. Courage is only one of these. It was on the field of battle that Sir Philip Sidney waved generously aside the cup of cold water that would have quenched his raging thirst, saying, as he did so, of the common soldier to whom he surrendered it, "His necessity is greater than mine." Doubtless our own recent wars in Cuba and Luzon have witnessed many things as beautiful as that. Because the temptations of war, of military life, are so strong to intemperance and licentiousness and to a general deca- dence of a well-ordered life, it is all the more creditable for the soldier to keep his speech and body clean, to refrain from dissipa- tion and debauchery. Honor to these — a large and goodly com- pany — who pluck this Edelweiss, this flower of noble purity, from out the dangerous nettle which grows rank where armies trail along! But this snowy flower is not the natural bloom of war's empurpled sod. To think it so were absurd as to suppose that Abraham Lincoln's greatness of soul was the natural bloom of that environment so squalid and so mean in which he passed his boyhood and his youth. But the courage which manifests itself in war, however splendid in its exhibition, however necessary, possibly, as certain crises in the present stage of civilization, is not the only courage that illuminates the page of history or the day-book of our common- place affairs. In one of the old Pilgrim or Puritan documents occurs the expression "answerable courages." They are such as answer to the various demands that life makes on the individual. Now, the whole texture of our modern civilization — mechanical, com- 290 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. mercial, political, ecclesiastical — is such that its demands for "an- swerable courages" is like that of the warp for the woof in the texture of a piece of cloth. We cannot all be soldiers in the armies of our country or sail- ors on her men-of-war. But even for those of us who unwill- ingly or gladly stay at home there are opportunities, not merely for courageous moments, but for a courageous habit of the soul, — opportunities which call for the most manly courage, and put us to the sternest proof. "The tumult and the shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart ; Still stands thine ancient sacrifice. An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget! "Far called, our navies melt away. On dune and headland -inks the fire, Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! Lord God of hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget!" OLD FLAG. BY HL'BBARD PARKER. What shall I say to you, Old Flag? You are so grand in every fold, So linked with mighty deeds of old, So steeped in blood where heroes fell, So torn and pierced by shot and shell, So calm, so still, so firm, so true. My throat swells at the sight of you. Old Flag. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 291 What of the men who lifted you, Old Fbg, Upon the top of Bunker's Hill, Who crushed the Briton's cruel will, Mid shock and roar and crash and scream, Who crossed the Delaware's frozen stream, Who starved, who fought, who bled, who died, That you might float in glorious pride, Old Flag? What of the women brave and true, Old Flag, Who while the cannon thundered wild, Sent forth a husband, lover, child. Who labored in the field by day, Who all the night long knelt to pray. And thought that God great mercy gave, If only freely you might wave. Old Flag? What is your mission now, Old Flag? What but to set all people free, To rid the world of misery, To guard the right, avenge the wrong, And gather in one joyful throng. Beneath your fold in close embrace All burdened ones of every race, Old Flag? Right nobly do you lead the way, Old Flag. Your stars shine out for liberty, Your white stripes stand for purity, Your crimson claims that courage high, For Honor's sake to fight and die, Lead on against the alien shore ; We'll follow you e'en to Death's door, Old Flag! 292 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. THE CYNIC. BY HENRY WARD BEECHER. The Cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man, and never fails to see a bad one. He is the human owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, mousing for vermin, and never see- ing noble game. The Cynic puts all human actions into only two classes — openly bad, and secretly bad. All virtue, and generosity, and disinter- estedness, are merely the appearance of good, but selfish at the bottom. He holds that no man does a good thing except for profit. The effect of his conversation upon your feelings is to chill and sear them; to send you away sour and morose. His criticisms and innuendoes fall indiscriminately upon every lovely thing like frost upon the Rowers. If Mr. A., is pronounced a religious man, he will reply: yes, on Sundays. Mr. B. has just joined the church: certainly, the elections are coming on. The minister of the gospel is called an example of diligence: it is his trade. Such a man i- generous: of other men's money. This man is obliging: to lull suspicion and cheat you. That man is upright, because he is green. Thus hi- eye strains out every good quality, and takes in only the bad. To him religion is hypocrisy, honesty a preparation for fraud, virtue only a want of opportunity, and undeniable purity, asceticism. The livelong day he will coolly sit with sneering lip, transfixing every character that is presented. It is impossible to indulge in such habitual severity of opinion upon our fellow-men, without injuring the tenderness and deli- cacy of our own feelings. A man will be what his most cher- ished feelings are. If he encourage a noble generosity, every feeling will be enriched by it ; if he nurse bitter and envenomed thoughts, his own spirit will absorb the poison, and he will crawl among men as a burnished adder, whose life is mischief, and whose errand is death. He who hunts for flowers will find flowers ; and he who loves weeds will find weeds. Let it be remembered that no man, who is not himself morally diseased, will have a relish for disease in others. Reject, then, the morbid ambition of the Cynic, or cease to call yourself a man. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 293 THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. BY LORD BYRON. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea Where the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strewn. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! 294 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. william Mckinley. BY HON. CHAUXCEY M. DEPEW. [From address delivered at the sixteenth annual dinner of the New York Re- publican Club, February 12, 1902.] William McKinley was the product and representative of that development of Americanism which has aroused intense interest and discussion at the commencement of the twentieth century. Industrial America owes more to him than any other statesman. Though never a business man or an employer of labor, he cre- ated those enterprises which have given unequalled position, wages, and work to his countrymen. Though never a manu- facturer, he gave the impulse and opportunity for manufacturers which have placed the surplus of the mills and factories of the United States in the markets of the world and given them suc- cess not only in the competitive countries of the East, but upon the soil and alongside the most highly organized industries of Europe. Though always a poor man and leaving an estate which was the result only of the savings from his salary as President and his life insurance, he made possible the gigantic fortunes which have been amas-ed by ma>ter minds in the control, use and dis- tribution of iron, coal, oil. cotton, and wool and their products. Though never an organizer or beneficiary of combinations or trusts, yet the constant aggregation of most industries in vast corporations of fabulous capital, while due to tendencies of the age and common to all countries, received tremendous accelera- tion from his policies. The dominant idea which governed his public life was that measure which brought out our national resources and increased our national wealth, added to the securi- ty, comfort, and happiness of every citizen. Some might profit more than others, but every one shared in greater or less degree in the general prosperity. Pride in his country and love for his people were the mainsprings of his career. McKinley the soldier molded McKinley the statesman. For four years the one object before him, at .sunrise and sunset, lead- ing the way in toilsome marches, its folds illuminating the tented MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 295 field and inspiring defense and assault, was the flag. It was dearer to him than life, and for it he repeatedly risked his life. It stood for country, home, and liberty. It became sacred in his eyes, and he followed it with devotion amounting almost to adoration. He rarely, in after years, ever made a speech which did not have some affectionate or patriotic allusion to Old Glory. It fixed his career and public life. Where he could advance the best interests of the Republic became his aim and ambition. His greatest pleasure was in meeting and greeting his country- men and countrywomen. Whether they were friends or strangers that cordial grasp, that kindly smile, that honest interest in every one who came near him, sent both the successful and dis- appointed from his presence feeling that the meeting was itself a decoration. It was the irony of fate that the most lovable and the best loved man who ever attained the Presidency should die at the hands of an assassin. His faith in the public intelligence and conscience was supreme. He believed the people knew more than any man, no matter how great his talents or opportunities. He never tried to lead, but studied so constantly public opinion that he became almost in- fallible in its interpretation. Great audiences in the open were his intelligence offices. He would mingle with the crowd as a man and a brother. He could not comprehend that the world held a wretch so depraved or a criminal so vile as to abuse the simple and sacred trust which a President thus put in the people who had chosen him for their ruler. And yet one, defaming and degrading a righteous cause, aimed a frightful blow at lib- erty, the liberty of intercourse between citizens and their Chief Magistrate, when he accepted hospitality and welcome to murder the most eminent and best loved of the people. The story of government is a pathetic recital of the neglected opportunities of statesmen. The crisis passes which wisely turned would have added to the glory and greatness of the country. The United States has been singularly rich in men for emergen- cies. Though lacking the heredity, experience, and training of the Old World, they have been illustrious examples of wonderful achievement. Washington had no predecessor and left no suc- cessor. Hamilton provided the principles for a strong govern- ment with no precedents to guide him, and from them grew the 296 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. Constitution and Union which John Marshall perfected by his matchless decisions. Webster made popular by his majestic elo- quence, and Lincoln saved by rare native gifts and unequaled genius for guiding a nation through the perils of civil war and the destructive forces of evolution. The Presidency did not change or elevate the tribune. The dignity of the office was never better sustained, but its majesty was concealed. Familiar speech and caressing touch were there for all, and with them an indefinable reserve of power and of the respect due the office which kept the dullest and most audacious within rigid limits of propriety and decorum. The vast majority are lonesome in crowds ; he could not bear to be alone. His pleasure in the long journeys across the continent was when the train stopped and the whole population surged around him. When the local committee, proud of the palaces of their wealth. their public buildings, art galleries and libraries, tried to show them, he cared nut. and demanded to be taken to the wharves where the fleets of commerce were loading and unloading the interchanges of the country and the world, to the mills, the fac- tories, the furnaces, and the mines. He did not like the pomp of glittering parades, but the farmer afield with plow or scythe or sower or mower or reaper, or a procession of artisans hurry- ing to or contentedly leaving their work, carried him to joyous heights of enthusiasm and happiness. Americanism with him meant the victories of peace. To see the United States controlling its own markets and successfully competing with other nations in the markets of the world was his idea of the true glory of his country. That Americans had won in the bids for a bridge over the Nile, or rails for Russian roads, or cars for Australia, or had introduced successfully agri- cultural machines and electrical appliances on the Continent of Europe, and textile fabrics in Great Britain, gave him more pride and pleasure than any possible triumph on land or sea. He would exhaust every resource of diplomacy and adopt every measure of conciliation and arbitration before going to war. William McKinley entered upon the Presidency at a period of greater distress in every branch of industry and employment than had ever before been experienced. He died when prosperity had assumed proportions -in productions, in domestic trade and foreign MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 297 commerce, in the accumulation of national and individual wealth, and in the happy condition of wage-earners, beyond the dreams of the most enthusiastic optimist in the development of our coun- try. He assumed the administration of the government when it was not reckoned diplomatically or industrially by the cabinets of the Old World and left it to his successor when for the same cabinets the leading discussion is how to avert what they are pleased to call "the American peril." Happily for him, before the dread summons came, the realization of his life work, his aspira- tions and his hopes were complete. The assassin struck him down at the moment when the splendors of the fruition of his labors were crystallized by his death into a halo of immortality. IF MOTHER WOULD LISTEN. BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER. If mother would listen to me, dears, She would freshen that faded gown, She would sometimes take an hour's rest, And sometimes a trip to town. And it wouldn't be all for the children, The fun and the cheer and the play ; With the patient droop on the tired mouth, And the "Mother has had her day." True, mother has had her day, dears, When ypu were her babies three, And she stepped about the farm and the house. As busy as a bee; When she rocked you all to sleep, dears, And sent you all to school, And wore herself out, and did without, And lived by the Golden Rule. And so your turn has come, dears, Her hair is growing white; And her eyes are gaining that far-away look That peers beyond the night. 298 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. One of these days in the morning, Mother will not be here; She will fade away mto silence — The mother so true and dear. Then what will you do in the daylight And what in the gloaming dim ? And father, tired and lonesome then, Pray, what will you do for him? If you want to keep your mother, You must make her rest to-day; Must give her a share in the frolic, And draw her int.. the play. And if mother would listen to me, dears, Slu'd buy her a gown of silk. With buttons i >f ri tyal velvet And ruffles a- white as milk ; And she'd let you d<> the trotting, While she sat -till in her chair. That mother should have it hard all through, It strikes me isn't fair. THE ISSUES OF THE TRAXSVAAI^ QUESTION. BY ENID WIDDRINGTON. [Extract from address given before the Society for Ethical Culture of Philadel- phia, November 12, 1899.] In the middle of the seventeenth century the Dutch East India Company founded the place where Cape Town now stands. The settlers were afterwards joined by some Huguenot emigrants from France and formed a community, partly agricultural, but far more largely pastoral, under the administration of the Dutch Company. In 1795. when Holland, overrun by the French arm- MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 299 ies, had become a republic, the British, being at war with France and her allies, seized Cape Colony and held it till the peace of Amiens. But its strategic importance having been recognized, it was again seized and remained in the hands of the British on the conclusion of peace in 1814, the Dutch receiving £6,000,000. In this transaction, however, the settlers had no share, and from the very first were hostile to the new government which had been foisted upon them against their will. Its unpopularity was intensified by the vigor with which a slight Dutch rising was put down in 181 5, when five Boer farmers were hanged. The anger caused by this harshness deepened as the years went by, until, unable to tolerate any longer British rule, and yet not strong enough for rebellion, there was only one course open to them — a hard and difficult one. This was to "trek" out into the vast wilderness and found a new republic in the unknown lands north and northeast of the colony, and thus shake off once and for all the hated British rule. Within two years' time six to ten thousand people — men, women, and children — taking with them their cattle and what they could carry of their household goods in their large covered wagons, leaving behind them their lands and farms, wandered out — a modern Israel from the British land of Egypt in search of a new Canaan. The simile is the more exact because the Boers, who were deeply though narrowly religious, believed themselves to be under the special guidance of Divine Providence — God's chosen people. And in this spirit they faced the dangers of the way, pestilence among the cattle, assaults of ■ bodies of British soldiers, violent attacks on the part of their fierce wild tribes surrounding them ("the Amalekites,"' as the Boers termed them), privations innumerable, starvation, disease, "battle, murder and sudden death," — all were faced by the emi- grants in the hope of reaching some part of Africa where they might live in their rough, primitive way, undisturbed by foreign rule. One band settled in what is now the Orange Free State, another colonized Natal. Hardly, however, had they settled in the country when the British government claimed them as subjects and Natal as a British colony, and en their refusing to submit sent a force to Natal and subdued it. A few Boers remained, but the greater number were again forced to trek northwards 300 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. across the Vaal river, where they fondly believed British aggres- sion would not follow them. In 1882 the British government formally recognized the in- dependence of the Transvaal Boers. From this period they strug- gled along, until the discovery, in 1885-86, of immense blanket beds of gold changed the whole face of affairs. Into the Trans- vaal soon flocked in ever-increasing numbers men of every na- tion under the sun. They were all gold-seekers. The Boers considered them interlopers ; they thought the Boers were cum- berers of the ground. The Boers wanted the country to live in; they wanted it for their children and their children's children. The newcomers wanted simply the gold in it, with which they might enrich themselves and depart to spend it elsewhere. How did the Boers deal with the situation? "If," argued the more old-fashioned and conservative Boers, "we can not keep the people out, we must make them as innocuous as possible. It is clear that if we do not make our naturalization laws more strict, we shall soon be completely out-voted and overwhelmed by these intruders.*' Accordingly, the period during which an immigrant could acquire the franchise was raised from five to fifteen years. And so, although most of the taxation was paid by the newcomers — naturally enough, as they were the richest — yet they had practically little, if any, share in the representation. And so it has come to pass that South Africa is plunged into war. A war that is to be deplored, for it is needless; to be -hated, for it is unjust. There can be but one ultimate end to the war — British victory. And when peace is made, let us hope that the terms will be such as to minimize the harm wrought by these disastrous battles, and to restore — though that will be the work of many weary years — some measure of good feeling and mutual trust in South Africa. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 301 I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN. BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. I'm with you once again, my friends, No more my footsteps roam; Where it began my journey ends, Amid the scenes of home. No other clime has skies so blue, Or streams so broad and clear, And where are hearts so warm and true As those that meet me here? Since last, with spirits wild and free, I pressed my native strand, I've wandered many miles at sea, And many miles on land : I've seen fair regions of the earth With rude commotion torn, Which taught me how to prize the worth Of that where I was born. In other countries when I heard The language of my own, How fondly each familiar word Awoke an answering tone ! But when our woodland songs were sung Upon a foreign mart, The vows that faltered on the tongue With rapture thrilled my heart ! My native land ! I turn to you, With blessing and with prayer, Where man is brave and woman true, And free as mountain air. Long may our flag in triumph wave, Against the world combined, And friends a welcome — foes a grave, Within our borders find. 302 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS, MINCE PIES. "My dear," said Mr. Leffenwell, folding his napkin and push- ing his chair from the table, "My dear, you're a pretty good housekeeper, and once in a while you contrive to cook up a pretty fair meal, but you've no business fooling around a mince pie. In fact, there never was but one woman in the world who could make a mince pic, and that was my mother." "Why, I thought this was a nice one. I got it out of the cook-book." "And ymi had better put it right back where you got it, as a warning to other amateurs. Oh, not that this is especially bad, only it doesn't meet all the requirements of a pie, as they were instilled into my youthful mind. Oh, you might pass this off on foundling hospitals that never had any mother, but it hasn't the soul that I used to get out of pie when I lived at home." "How did your mother make her pies, dear? If I knew what she used, perhaps I could get up one of which you would eat six slices instead of four." and, with this purely feminine dig, Mrs. Leffenwell looked modestly downward and continued fold- ing knife pleatings in the tablecloth. "Come," exclaimed Mr. Leffenwell, impetuously jumping up from his chair, "if you have the ingredients, I'll show you how to make a pie that will draw howls of envy from the neighbors," and he led the way to the kitchen. "Where's the chopping tray and the apples. Give me the hand guillotine and the beef ! Look alive now, my dear, and soon we shall startle the world on the abstruse subject of pie! Now," he continued, as he dumped the meat and apples into the tray and went at them vigorously with the chopping-knife, "now you watch the proceedings, and note how the pie begins to assume proportions." "Why, didn't your mother peel the apples and take the cores out before she chopped them?" "Eh?" Then after a long pause: "No. of course not. If you did. there's where you made your mistake. I suppose you peeled the beef, too ; though it strikes me that this meat would MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 303 chop a little finer if a pile-driver had dropped on it once or twice. Anyway, you don't want your meat too fine, so I guess this will do," and Mr. Leffenwell pushed the trayful of lumps to one side and then rolled up his sleeves. "What will you have now, dear?" "Some flour and water; it's the crust of a pie that's its genius, and I mean to turn out a slab of pastry that'll be a monument to the artist who is doing the job. Give me some flour and water, while I feel as one upon whom the spirit of a successful pie rests visibly." Mrs. Leffenwell brought the desired materials, and once more resumed the relation of pupil to the exercises. "Anything else, dear?" she asked, as Mr. Leffenwell wet down the flour, and plunged his fists into the paste. "Nothing but profound silence. The chief trouble with the crust of your pie is that you allow your attention to be dis- tracted at the critical moment. I, on the contrary, will stop boxing this overcoat for that mince meat, the second it reaches flakiness," and Mr. Leffenwell poured in more flour and plunged again into his ambitious effort in the way of crust. "There," he exclaimed, when he had fought it to the con- sistency of sand and mucilage. "Hand me the rolling-pin," and he rolled it out in two thick chunks. "This is -the triumph of pie over puttering. Now lead out the pan that the gods would honor, and let's see how this combination of hereditary brains and acquired intelligence will go when it's cooked." Mrs. Leffenwell brought the pan, into which he dropped the lower crust, and then poured in his mince meat. "You'll have to lift your teeth pretty high to get around some of those lumps, but it's the crust of a pie that talks, when you come to conversation on pie. Now you do this : You roll out the top crust — so ; then you describe an ornamental spray on it with your thumb nail — so. Then you put the upper crust on the lower one — so ; and when you get it on thus, you pinch the edges together all around — so. My mother used to have a wheel out of an old wooden clock, and she printed landscapes in holes all over the top. But that's not necessary; it adds luster, but no dignity, to the performance. Now you put it in the oven — 304 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. so, and soon we shall have accomplished results in the imme- diate line of pie." "It is really remarkable, dear, how well you remember how your mother made her pies." "You won't mind if it is better than yours, will you? You won't cry," and Mr. Leffenwell chucked his wife under the chin and then opened the stove door to see how affairs were 'pro- gressing. "Let me see : You try it with a broom-splint, don't you, to see whether it is done or not? Where's your broom? Show me the happy broom that is to be immortalized by testing this grand apotheosis of pie." Mrs. Leffenwell produced a broom, from which he selected a splint, which he endeavored to thrust into the pie. "It won't go in. The trouble is with the broom. Haven't you a broom that knows something about its business?" and Mr. Leffenwell broke up several more splints in a vain endeavor to penetrate the pie. "Hadn't you better try the handle, dear?" "No. I hadn't better try the handle. Where's a towel? Now, come out of here and let us sec what is the occasion of this un- called-for resistance. You have an idea that you are going to be assassinated with a broom-splint; haven't you? You think you are sort of a bulwark of American liberties and bound to resist foreign intervention; don't you? Well, you're not. You're nothing but a pie, and you're going to have something stuck into you if it takes a cannon and a cold chisel to do it!" and Mr. Leffenwell stabbed the pie first with a fork and then with the chopping knife, without making the faintest impression. "You're up in pies ; what do you suppose is the matter with this one?" he inquired of Mrs. Leffenwell. "If I had been your mother, I should have put some lard into the crust." "You would, would you? Well, I'd like to knojv^ how you are going to put lard into a crust that you cannot penetrate with a bayonet! Anyway, the inside of that pie is all right, if I could only get the cover off. Haven't you anything here that I could put under the edge, and then with it lift off the roof of the whole business? Give me that can-opener! There she comes!" MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 305 and the crust gave way, revealing lumps of meat and apple par- ings, half cooked and still steaming. "I suppose that your mother put the cider and spices into her pies after your father had wrenched them open?" "You do, do you? Perhaps you don't like the looks of the pie. I suppose you have some fashionable idea about not wish- ing to associate with that pie. Well, you needn't. I never force unpleasant acquaintances on my wife. Go forth, pie !" and he pitched it through a window, then slamming the door behind him, he mounted the stairs with a heavy tread. "Well, if that's the way his mother made her pies," said Mrs. Leffenwell as she swept up the debris, "I don't wonder that it made an impression on his mind." f OU NEVER CAN TELL. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. You never can tell when you send a word, Like an arrow shot from a bow By an archer blind — be it cruel or kind, Just where it will chance to go. It may pierce the heart of your dearest friend Tipped with its poison and balm ; To a stranger's heart in life's great mart It may carry its pain or its calm. You never can tell when you do an act Just what the result will be, But with every deed you are sowing a seed, Though its harvest you may not see. Each kindly act is an acorn dropped In God's productive soil ; Though you may not know, yet the tree shall grow And shelter the brows that toil. 306 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. You never can tell what your thoughts will do In bringing you hate or love ; For thoughts are things, and their airy wings Are swifter than carrier doves; They follow the law of the universe, Each thing will create its- kind ; And they speed o'er the track to bring you back Whatever went out from your mind ! ROME AND CARTHAGE. V,\ VICTOR HUGO. Rome and Carthage! behold them drawing near for the strug- gle that is to shake the world! Carthage, the metropolis of Africa, is the mistress of oceans, of kingdoms, and of nations; a magnificent city, burdened with opulence, radiant with the strange arts and trophies <>i" the East. She is at the acme of her civilization; she can mount no higher; any change now must be a decline. Rome is comparatively poor. She has seized all within her grasp, but rather from the lust of conquest than to till her own coffers. She is clemi-barbarous, and has her education and her fortune both to get. All is before her, nothing behind. For a time these two nations exist in view of each other. The one reposes in the noontide of her splendor; the other waxes strong in the shade. But, little by little, air and space are wanting to each, for her development. Rome begins to perplex Carthage, and Carthage is an eyesore to Rome. Seated on op- posite banks of the Mediterranean, the two cities look each other in the face. The sea no longer keeps them apart ! Europe and Africa weigh upon each other. Like two clouds surcharged with electricity, they impend; with their contact must come the thunder shock. The catastrophe of this splendid drama is at hand. What actors are met ! Two races, that of merchants and mariners, that of laborers and soldiers; two nations, the one MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 307 dominant by gold, the other by steel; two republics, the one theocratic, the other aristocratic ; — Rome and Carthage ! Rome with her army, Carthage with her fleet ; Carthage, old, rich, and crafty ; Rome, young, poor, robust ; the past, and the future ; the spirit of discovery, and the spirit of conquest; the genius of commerce, and the demon of war ; the East and South on one side, the West and North on the other ; in short, two worlds, — the civilization of Africa, and the civilization of Europe. They measure each other from head to foot. They gather all their forces. Gradually the war kindles. The world takes fire. These colossal powers are locked in deadly strife. Carthage has crossed the Alps; Rome, the seas. The two nations, personified in two men, Hannibal and Scipio, close with each other, wrestle, and grow infuriate. The duel is desperate. It is a struggle for life. Rome wavers; she utters that cry of anguish, "Hannibal at the gates !" But she rallies, collects all her strength for one last, appalling effort, throws herself upon Carthage, and sweeps her from the face of the earth. HUNTING SONG. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. Waken, lords and ladies gay ! On the mountain dawns the day, All the jolly chase is here. With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling. Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay! This mist has left the mountain gray, Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, 308 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. And foresters have busy been, To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay ! To the greenwood haste away ! We can show you where he lies, Fleet of foot and tall of size ; We can show the marks he made, When 'gainst the oak his antler's frayed; You shall see him brought to bay, "Waken, lords and ladies gay." Louder, louder chant the lay! Waken, lords and ladies gay ! Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, Run a curse as well as we; Time, -tern hunt-man! who can baulk, Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk. Think of this and rise with day, Gentle lords and ladies gay. SPEECH OF BLACK HAWK. You have taken me prisoner with all my warriors. I am much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to hold out much longer, and give you more trouble before I surren- dered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your last general 1 understands Indian fighting. I determined to rush on you, and fight you face to face ; I fought hard. But your guns were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees in winter. My warriors fell around me; it began to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand. The sun rose dim on us in the morning, 1 General Atkinson. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 309 and at night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men ; they will do with him as they wish. But he can stand torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian. He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, against white men who came, year after year, to cheat them, and take away their lands. You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men. They ought to be ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians, and drive them from their homes. But the Indians are not deceitful. The white men speak bad of the Indian, and look at him spitefully. But the Indian does not tell lies ; Indians do not steal. An Indian who is as bad as the white men, could not live in our nation; he would be put to death, and be eaten up by wolves. The white men are bad schoolmasters ; they carry false looks, and deal in false actions ; they smile in the face of the poor Indian to cheat him ; they shake him by the hand to gain his confidence, to make him drunk, and to deceive him. We told them to let us alone, and keep away from us, but they followed on, and beset our paths, and they coiled themselves among us, like the snake. They poisoned us by their touch. We were not safe. We lived in danger. We were becoming like them, hypocrites and liars, — all talkers and no workers. We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our father 1 We were encouraged. His great council gave us fair words and big promises, but we obtained no satisfaction, — things were grow- ing worse. There were no deer in the forest. The opossum and beaver were fled ; the springs were drying up, and our peo- ple were without victuals to keep them from starving. We called a great council, and made a large fire. The spirit of our fathers arose and spoke to us to avenge our wrongs or die. We all spoke before the council-fire. It was warm and pleasant. We set up the war-whoop, and dug up the tomahawk; our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk swelled 1 " Father " here refers to the President of the United States ; and " his council " to the Congress. 310 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. high in his bosom, when he led his warriors to battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world of spirits contented. He has done his duty. His father will meet him there, and commend him. Black Hawk is a true Indian, and disdains to cry like a wo- man. He feels for his wife, his children, and his friends. But he does not care for himself. He cares for the nation and the Indians. They will suffer. He laments their fate. The white men do not scalp the heads; but they do worse, — they poison the heart; it is not pure with them. I lis countrymen will not be scalped, but they will, in a few years, become like the white men, so that you can not trust them; and there must be, as in the white settlements, nearly as many officers as men, to take care of them, and keep them in order. Farewell, my nation! Black Hawk tried to save you, and avenge your wrongs. He drank the blood of some of the whites. He has been taken prisoner, and his plans are stopped. He can do no more! He is near his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. Farewell to Black Hawk! THE FUGITIVES. BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar spray is dancing :- Away ! The whirlwind is rolling, The thunder is tolling, The forest is swinging, The minster-bells ringing: — Come away ! MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 311 The earth is like ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion; Bird, beast, man, and worm, Have crept out of the storm: — Come away ! "Our boat has one sail, And the helmsman is pale. A bold pilot, I trow, Who should follow us now !" Shouted he. And she cried: "Ply the oar; Put off gaily from shore !" — As she spoke, bolts of death, Mixed with hail, specked their path O'er the sea : And from isle, tower, and rock, The blue beacon-cloud broke : And, though dumb in the blast, The red cannon flashed fast From the lee. And "Fear'st thou?" and "Fear'st thou?" And "Seest thou?" and "Hear'st thou?" And "Drive we not free O'er the terrible sea, I and thou?" 312 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. One boat-cloak did cover The loved and the lover: Their blood beats one measure, They murmur proud pleasure Soft and low ; — While around the lashed ocean, Like mountains in motion, Is withdrawn and uplifted, Sunk, shattered and shifted To and fro. In the court of the fortress Beside the pale portress, Like a bloodhound well beaten The bridegroom stands, eaten By shame. On the topmost watch-turret, As a death-boding spirit, Stands the grey tyrant father; To his voice, the mad weather Seems tame; And, with curses as wild As e'er clung to child, He devotes to the blast The best, loveliest, and last, Of his name. MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 313 AMERICANISM. BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT. There are two or three things that Americanism. means. In the first place it means that we shall give to our fellow- man, to our fellow-citizen, the same wide latitude as to his indi- vidual beliefs that we demand for ourselves ; that, so long as a man does his work as a man should, we shall not inquire, we shall not hold for or against him in civic life, his method of paying homage to his Maker. That is an important lesson for all of us to learn everywhere, but it is doubly important in our great cities, where we have a cosmopolitan population of such various origin, belonging to such different creeds, and where the problem of getting good government depends in its essence upon decent men standing together and insisting that before we take into account the ordinary political questions we shall, as a pre- requisite, Lave decency and honesty in any party. Now for another side of Americanism, the side of the work, the strife, of the active performance of duty, one side of Ameri- canism, one side of democracy. Our democracy means that we have no privileged class, no class that is exempt from the duties or deprived of the privileges that are implied in the words "American Citizenship." Now that principle has two sides to it, itself, for all of us would be likely to dwell continually upon one side, that all have equal rights. It is more important that we should dwell on the other side ; that is, that we shall have our duties and that the rights cannot be kept unless the duties are performed. The law of American life — of course, it is the law of life everywhere — the law of American life, peculiarly, must be the law of work; not the law of idleness; not the law of self- indulgence or pleasure, merely the law of work. It is a dis- grace for any American not to do his duty ; but it is a double, a triple disgrace for a man of means or a man of education not to do his duty. The only work worth doing is done by those men, those women, who learn not to shrink from difficulties, but to face them and overcome them. So that Americanism means 314 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. work, means effort, means the constant and unending strife with our conditions which is not only the law of nature if the race is to progress, but which is really the law of the highest happiness for us ourselves. You have got to have the same interest in public affairs as in private affairs, or you cannot keep this country, what this coun- try should be. You have got to have more than that — you have got to have courage. I do not care how good a man is, if he is timid, his value is limited. The timid will not amount to very much in the world. I want to see a good man ready to smite with the sword. I want to see him able to hold his own in active life against the forces of evil. I want to see him war effectively for righteousness. Of all the things we do not want to see is the tendency to divide into two camps; on the one side all the nice, pleasant, refined people of high instincts, but no capacity to do work, and, on the other hand, men who have not got nice instincts at all, but who are not afraid. When you get that condition, you are preparing immeasurable disaster for the nation. You have got to combine decency and honesty with courage. But even that is not enough, for I do not care how brave, how honest a man is, if he is a natural-born fool he cannot be a success. He has got to have the saving grace of common-sense. He has got to have the right kind of heart, he has got to be upright and de- cent, he has got to be brave, and he has got to have common- sense. He has got to have intelligence, and if he has those, then he has in him the making of a first-class American citizen. INDEX. PAGE. Actions (see Gestures), 78 Analysis for Emphasis, Rules for, 57, 62 Arms, The, 163 Articulation, 46, 90, 96, 121 Articulation, Difficult Combinations 147 Attitude (see also Position), 78 Attitude, The Speaker's, 11 Attitude of Respect, 30 Attitude, Laws of, 86, 164 Attitude, Illustrations of, 86 Attitudes and Bearings, Final Hints on, 162 Ball of Foot, For Getting Weight of Body on, 31 Bearings (see also Attitude), " 79 Body, The, 164 Body, The Language of the, 73 Bowing, 110 Breast-bone, 41 Breathing-Exercises, 21, 22, 69 Chest, The, 14, 75, 76, 163 Chest and Shoulders, 76 Climax, 104 Consonants, The, 91 Description, 155 Elbow, The, 163 Emphasis, 24, 57, 62 Eye, The, 108 Eye, Direct, 108 Eye, Indirect, 109 Facial Expression, a , 150 Feet, The 13, 162 316 INDEX. Flexibility : page. Ex. I. Hands and Fingers, 49 Ex. II. Wrists, 50 Ex. III. For Muscles of the Neck and Jaw, 53 Ex. IV. For Legs, 54 Ex. V. ForArmr 67 Ex. VI. ForArmr-. 67 Forehead, The, 150 Free Side 13 Free Foot, 13 Gestures 78 Gestures, Full arm: Ex. I. Indication (Palm up) 133 Ex. II. Indication (Palm down), 134 Ex. III. Indication of Self-folding movement, 135 Ex. IV. Suspense " . . 136 Ex. V. Returning to Rest, 137 Hand, The, 163 Hand, Actions of the : Ex. I. Simple Indication 117 Ex. II. Beckoning, 119 Ex. III. Admiration 119 Ex. IV. Repulsion, 119 Ex. V. Appeal, 124 Ex. VI. Rejection, 124 Ex. VI [. Declaration, 124 Ex. VIII. Declaration with Surrender, 125 Ex. IX. Concealment, 125 Head, The, 12, 92 Ex. I. Erect, 93 Ex. II. Bowed 93 Ex. III. Lifted, 94 Ex. IV. Pivoted, 94 Ex. V. Inclined, 100 Ex. VI. Advanced, 101 Ex. VII. Drawn Back, 101 Ex. Vm. Hung, 101 Ex. IX. Thrown Back, 101 Hips, The, 13, 14, 75, 77, 162 INDEX. 317 PAGE. Hip, Swaying the, 37 Imitation, 155 Inflection, 32, 79 Inflection, Minor, 51 Inflection, Major, 51 Inflection, Circumflex, 79 Inflection, Double Circumflex, 81 Jaw, The Lower, 152 Knees, The, 14, 162 Language of the Body, The, 73 Larynx, The, 42 Legs, For Flexibility of the, 54 For Independence of the, 60 Weight on One Foot, 85 Weight on Both Feet, 87 Lips, The, 151 Lungs, The, 40 Mouth, The, 151 Movement, 128 Nose, The, 151 Oppositions of the Head and Arms, 138 Ex. I. Indication with, 139 Ex. II. Rejection or Denial, . . . " 140 Ex. III. Rejection of Trifles, 141 Ex. IV. Animation 142 Ex. V. Assertion, 143 Ex. VI. Repulsion, 144 Pantomimic Expression, 73 Phrasing, 16 Pitch, Movement and Volume, 128 Poise, Transition of, 52 Position (see also Attitude), 11, 14, 30, 37, 78 Speaker's, The, 11, 14 Exercises in, Ex. I., 12 Exercises in, Ex. II, 15 Exercises in, Ex. Ill, 30 Exercises in, Ex. IV., 81 318 INDEX. PAGE. Exercises in, Ex. V., 37 Exercises in, Ex. VI., 38 Exercises in, Ex. VII. , 52 Reading, 16 Rhythm, 112 Shoulders, The, 13, 14, 75, 76 Sitting, 15, 87 Standing Front View, 12 Standing Side View, 14 Strong Foot, 13 Strong Side, 13 Torso, The, 75, 76 Vocal Apparatus, The, 40 Vocal Bands, The, 42 Vocal Exercises 44 Ex. I. " Start " of the Tone, 44 "Start "of the Tone, 45 "Start" of the Tone, 45 For Speaking without Waste of Breath, ... 97 For Forward Placing of the Voice 122 Volume, 128 Vowels, The, 46, 55, 62, 68, 70, 81, 90 Windpipe, The, 41 Ex. II. Ex. III. Ex. IV. Ex. V. MAR 26 1903