whyRrNbRS RPTTTATinW (KAHCOWIUIMOYNE f W} FOR* 1 I10.6 RELIGIOUS OCCASIONS... 9 EDGAR S WERNER; NEW YORK '^mmm Published by • EDGAR S.WERNER &CO, NEW YORK )RGE RIDDLE Copyright, isol' : by Edgar S. Werner ' Home Study in Elocution "Emma Dunning Banks's Original Recitations with Lesson-Talks." These poems written especially for recitation. Many of them have taken prizes. Every Banks poem has a lesson, directions being- given for voice and action-work. Book is a self-instructor and affords teachers valuable hints for teaching pupils. Every purchaser gets thirty-five lessons in elocution in addition to excellent original recitations. Book is serviceable to those unable to get elocutionary in- struction at home. Selections afford opportunities for poses, bird-tones and other vocal effects. Pupil is not both- ered with arbitrary rules, but is| taught in few and plain words essential points of piece he is learning, so every recitation is a valuable lesson in elocution. LIST OF PIECES: N. B. — Pieces marked with an asterisk (*) have Lesson- Talks. *Mein Katrine's Brudder Hans *Memorial Day at the Farm Mercantile Transaction •Money Musk *Mother's Easter Scarf Off for Slumber-Land *01d, Old Story *One Thanksgiving Day Out West Only Playing Pat and the Yankee *Pride of Battery B *Prince Eric's Christ-Maid *Princess Imra and the Goat- herd •Quart of Milk 'Roman "Valentine *Russian Christmas Tern- *Ruthie's Faith in Prayer Society Flirtation Soldier's Joy Abou Ben Adhem *Aline's Love Song *Aunt Rhody's Dream Basting Thread Battle Cry •Bridget's Mission Jug Country Dancing •Diamond Cut Diamond •Dot's Christmas, or, The Sober Hat *Elf Child •Emma Dunning Banks's Medley •Flibbertygibbet and Me *Flossie Lane's Marriage *Flying Jim's Last Leap *For the Slumber Islands, Ho! Funny Story •Grandma Robbins's perance Mission Her Name His Mother's Cooking *Spinning-Wheel Song •How Congress Fought for *Squeeze in the Dark Sheridan Kittens and Babies •Laureame: The Marble Dream •Legend of Rose Sunday Lesson of Obedience Little Boy Blue Man's Story Statue in Clay •St. Valentine's and St. Pat- rick's Day *Tit for Tat Total Annihilation •Two Thanksgiving Dances Valentine •Van Bibber's Rock AH of the above-named pieces in one cloth-bound book sent for SI. 75 EDGAR S. WERNER & CO.. 11 East 14th St.. N. Y. WERNER'S Readings and Recitations No. 6< Compiled and Arranged by ELSIE M. WILBOR New York EDGAR S. WERNER & CO. Copyright, 1802, by Edgar S. Wernei Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://archive.org/details/forreligiousocca06wilb CONTENTS. PAGE. Annunciation, The. — Adelaide Anne Procter 135 Arnold at Stillwater. — Thomas Dunn English 115 Battle of Lepanto, The 120 Becalmed at Sea. — Samuel K. Cowan • 81 Bee's Sermon, The 50 Boy's Composition on Breathing, A 64 Casualty, A 68 Challenge, The. — Roger Atkinson Pryor 16 Charity. — R. W. Lanigan 60 Childish Fancy, A 41 Christ Child, The.— Elsie M. Wilbor 1 Christmas Flowers. — Adelaide Anne Procter 179 Christmas Sheaf, The.— Mrs. A. M. Tomlinson 166 Consternation 162 Cordelie.— Brother Paul, O. S. F 168 Dandelions, The 43 Day Too Late, A.— Magdalen Rock 133 December.— Rt. Rev. W. C. Doane 132 Down in the Strawberry Bed 128 Drummer Boy of Kent, The 84 Elixir of Life, The.— William McGill 118 Encore 22 Friar Servetus. — Clifford Lanier 53 Funeral of the Mountains, The. — Fred Emerson Brooks 65 Harvest Drill. — Arr. by Sara S. Rice 44 How They Caught the Panther.— Rev. Alfred J. Hough 7 Ivory Crucifix, The.— G. H. Miles 42 Japanese Parasol and Fan Drill. — Mrs. Mary L. Gaddess 11 King's Bell, The ! 59 King's Joy-Bells, The.— Mrs. Kate A. Bradley 99 Lady Hildegarde, The -. 90 Lass Dorothy 48 Legend of the Heather 112 Legend of the Lily, The. — Annie Wall 52 Legend of the Missions, The — Lee C. Harby 76 Lesson in Weighing, A. — Charles R. Talbot 147 Trfe's Day. Tableau Recitation. — Mrs. Mary L. Gaddess ........ 31 Little Pilgrim, A 125 Little Tin Cup, The.— Thomas Frost 46 Long Ago.— Mrs. Libbie C. Baer 172 Madonna at Palos.— Mabel E. Hughes 182 Monks' Magnificat, The.— E. Nesbit 54 Mother's Hymns.— Emily G. Weatherbee 28 My Twentieth Birthday.— M K 123 Nightingale, The.— Louis E. Van N oi man .......,'.', '. ,' .' ,' .' . .' .' .' .' .' . lei "Werner's Readings No. 6, . in, do r- iv CONTENTS. PAGE. No 51 Orphan's Dream of Christmas, The 38 Palmer's Vision, The.— Josiah Gilbert Holland 70 Rabbi and the Prince, The. — James Clarence Harvey 30 Rescued 173 Rodney's Ride. — Elbridge 8. Brooks 136 Saint Anthony.— Mrs. E. W. Latimer 140 Saint Patrick and the Impostor. — Aubrey De Vere 95 Saint Ursula. — John Ruskin 129 Santa Claus . 25 Shakespearean Perversion, A 10 Sicilian Captive, The. — Mrs. Felicia Hemans 1 50 Somebody's Boy 102 Something Great.— F. Tyler 63 Song of the Locomotive, The 104 Song of the Wind, The 175 Tale of the Terrible Fire 61 Telemachus.— G. M. Sheldon , 87 Tennis Drill. — Mrs. Mary Drew Wilson 157 Thanksgiving Eve 174 Three Little Kittens 9 Three Missions, The. — Mrs. Loula Kendall Rogers 72 Tintamarre, The. — Julia M. Ryan 12 Tree-Tise on Nature, A. — Louis H. Levin '. 23 Turn of the Tide, The.— Rose Kavanagh 164 Two Brothers, The 124 Two Chimneys, The. — Philip Burroughs Strong 114 Unseen Yet Seen 35 Vesper Bell, The.— Eugene Davis 89 Virgin with the Bells, The. — Austin Dobson 93 Vision of St. Dominic, The 15 Vision of Handel, The.— P. L. Blatchford 109 Way, The.— William Steele Shurtleff 86 What Echo Said 107 What is To-morrow ? 178 What Lottie Saw — E. L. Brown 163 When Old Jack Died. — James Whitcomb Riley 101 When Washington Was President.— Robert J. Burdette 29 White Hearse, The . „ 106 Why the Robin's Breast is Red. — James R. Randall 67 " Will My Soul Pass Through Ireland ? "—Dennis O'Sullivan 146 William tell and His Son.— Martha J. Nott 78 Work That is Best, The.— Carlotta Perry 138 Wreck of the Solent, The. — Frederic Lyster 176 Writing on the Image, The. — William Morris 17 INDEX TO AUTHORS. PAGE. 3aer, Mrs. Libbie C 172 Slatchford, P. L 109 Sradley, Mrs. Kate A 99 Srooks, Elbridge S 136 Brooks, Fred Emerson 65 brother Paul, O. S. F 168 iuruetle, KuUerD J 29 Srown, E. L 163 }owan, Samuel K 81 Javis, Eugene 89 )e Vere, Aubrey 95 )oane, Kt. Rev. W. C 132 )obson, Austin 93 Cnglish, Thomas Dunn , 115 'rost, Thomas 46 J-addess, Mrs. Mary L 11, 31 larby, Lee C 76 larvey, James Clarence „ 30 lemans, Mrs. Felicia 150 lolland, Josiah Gilbert 70 lough, Rev. Alfred J 7 Lughes, Mabel E 182 iavanagh, Rose 164 janier, Clifford 53 anigan, R. W 60 ,atimer, Mrs. E. W 140 evin, Louis H 23 yster, Frederic 176 fcGill, William 118 liles, G. H 42 lorris, William 17 ^esbit, E 54 Jott, Martha J 78 VSullivan, Dennis 1 46 >erry, Carlotta 138 J rocter, Adelaide Anne 135, 179 'ryor, Roger Atkinson 16 Werner's Readings No. 6. V. vi INDEX- TO AUTHORS. PAG Randall, James R Rice, Sara S Riley, James Whitcomb 1 Rock, Magdalen 1 Rogers, Mrs. Loula Kendall Ruskin, John 1 Ryan, Julia M Sheldon, G. M Shurtleff, William Steele Strong, Philip Burroughs 1 Talbot, Charles R 1 Tomlinson, Mrs A. M 1> Tyler, F Van Norman, Louis E 1 Wall, Mrs. Annie Weatherbee, Emily G „ Wilbor, Elsie M Wilson, Mrs. Mary Drew : WERNER'S Readings and Recitations. No. 6. THE CHRIST CHILD. ELSIE il. WILBOR. . [One of the most beautiful legends of Germany is the legend of the Christ '5hild — not the word Christ Child as we commonly understand it, synonymous \tith Kriss Kringle, Santa Claus, or "St. Nick," but Child from Christ. )nce a year, at the instant that Christmas morn dawns, the Christ Chil^ hov- rs over the earth. It is supposed to be a child sent by Christ, and selected rom the children that have died during the year. It stays but a moment, and 5 visible only to the pure in heart. Thosn persons that see it are specially lessed throughout the ensuing year; and if a wish be made while the vision ists, it will be granted.] rT^AEL KEAEMEE had not walked for two years. Not because L -^ he did not want to, oh, no ! He had thought over again nd again his few possessions, and would gladly have given up all f them to regain this pleasure. He had even reckoned his little rother Hans among his belongings, and had decided to part with im as a last resort; though, if his decision could have been rought to a test, Karl would have remained lame forever rather han lose Hans. Two years were a long time for a once active boy to keep still ; or in all those weary months he had moved only to be carried from he bed to the window, except on rare occasions when, with his rutch under one arm and mother steadying him by the other arm, e had jerked himself along for a few feet to his big chair. But hese occasions grew less and less frequent, and four months had assed since the crutch had been taken down. To-day, a bright December day, Karl lay thinking over for the ve-hundredth time the scene of the accident that had deprived 2 WERNER'S READINGS him forever from being like other boys. Every detail of tha afternoon came back to him. Again he heard his comrades shout ing: "Karl, Karl, come to the ice." Unconsciously his fee twitched under the coverlid in response to the call. How th< ground fled from his step in the merry race to be the first to toucl the large stone at the head of the pond, and so be made leader o the afternoon's sports ! "Ha-ha, I am here ;" and he hurried on his skates for a tri] over the ice and back before Otto and Louis came, just to stretcl the knots out of his legs after their cramped position under a schoo desk all day. "Hurrah ! I'm off I" he shouted, and started, putting all hi 1 strength into the start. That first move— he knew no more. From that instant all was blank to him until he opened his eye •and taw his mother's frightened face looking down at him. H| m0 ved— oh, the pain ! What did it mean ? Then they told hiri that his skate-strap had broken, and that he had fallen backwari over a stone — the very one he had been so eager to touch ; anc later, they told him what he scarcely realized then,— that he coul never walk again. Since then, all the days were alike ; but the last few weeks ha been so full of suffering that Karl wondered how it would feel t have no pain for one whole hour. This thought seemed to brin another, for his face suddenly brightened. " The Christ Child ! " he exclaimed. " How could I have fo: gotten that for two years ! I will try to see it and wish— wish thj I may be ill no more/' From that moment the idea never left him. He thought of through the long hours of the day, and dreamed of it through tl longer hours of the night. It seemed as if Christmas eve wou 1 never come. The only thing that troubled him was the thoug that perhaps he had not been good enough to see the Christ Chih Once he asked his mother in a pleading, half frightened tone : " Mother, have I been a good boy this year ? I don't mean got all my'life, but just this year." His mother, with a vague feeling of alarm, replied : AND RECITATIONS. 3 1 "Why, Karlie boy, of course you've been good. You were ever very naughty like most boys, dear, but you are almost an jugel now. Why do you ask ? " l But Karl made no answer, for her words had lifted him away rom the earth to the bright somewhere, where the Christ Child welt. It was Christmas eve. A feeling of happy secrecy was in the ery air. The last pan of cookies, each with a figure of Santa jJlaus on the top, had been taken from the oven. Mother's loving ' mgers had knit the last stitch in the bright red comforter for Hans, ( nd her tender eyes had dropped their last tear on the warm, home- nade slippers for the dear invalid. Hans could hardly wait till norning to give Karl the rabbit that he had worked so hard to earn. IE had often heard Karl wish for some pet to amuse him, and the Rabbit would be just the thing. " It is so cunning, I know he'll like it. And then," reasoned vise little Hans, " I can play with it, too, so it will be a present to Doth of us. There's nothing else that I could give Karl and aave some of it myself, unless it is cake, and he might eat all if that ; then I wouldn't have any of my present after all !" Karl, too, had his secret ; but no one dreamed of the happy thoughts that chased each other through his mind. " Won't they be surprised when I jump out of bed to-morrow morning, before it's light, and run around wishing them a merry Christmas ! The little mother will like it better than any present I can give her." Poor Karl ! he did not stop to think that he was too weak to walk, even if he were not crippled. He was still planning surprises when his mother came to tuck him up for the night. *' Oh, mother, I feel so much better to-night !" wincing, as he spoke, at a terrible dart of pain. "Ah, Karlie, if I could only believe that you were really better, it would indeed be a happy Christmas for me," and his mother stroked back the fair hair. "But I am really better ; you shall see," said Karl, bravely trying to imagine that he was very much better. "And now, 4 WERNER'S READINGS mother, will you give me my crutch ? I want it beside me to night— just to-night ; and please roll my bed near the window Please/' he pleaded, as his mother hesitated ; "you will know whi in the morning." So the crutch was laid beside him, and the bed moved to when a great, bright star looked right down into Karl's happy, tirec face. "Good-night, mother dear, good-night," he whispered, hug ging her tight. He felt as if he were robbing her in keeping the happy secret to himself, and so he hugged her the tightei to make amends. " We shall all be very happy to-morrow shan'l we?" " Yes, dearie ; are you in pain ? " she added, noticing a drawr look on his face. ' ' No, not much, only so tired. I shall be all right in the morn; ing," he added eagerly, to reassure her. "Good-night, little mother ; " and his mother kissed him and hurried from the room to hide her tears. Karl was alone. The last night of suffering had come after sc many days of waiting. The clock struck nine. Through the half, 1 opened door he could see that the light was burning brightly, and he heard the creak of his mother's chair as she rocked to and fro^ He tried to fix his mind on the wish he would make when the Christ Child appeared; but his thoughts wandered aimlessly 1 hither and thither, touching now on happy, then on sad memories. Now it was the medal that the good priest had given him for his drawings. He could feel the pat on the head, and hear the kind voice saying : '< If you keep on you will yet be an artist, my little man; your work is very good." How his heart beat at the thought ! Then he thought of the time that Hans fell into the brook and was brought home almost dead. How white and strange his face looked, and how cold the baby hand felt when he touched it ! As he thought of this a chill passed over him like the icy touch of Hans's hand again, and somehow it stayed— he could not shake it off. ! AND RECITATIONS. 5 The clock struck ten. He heard his mother push back her lair and move about preparing for bed. Then came voices; it as Hans moaning in his sleep, as he often did, and his mother othing him. How far off it seemed ! It was almost like hearing story read. Then the light grew dim and all was still — the ouse was asleep. The great, bright star, sunk lower in the havens, seemed to look more friendly at Karl. It seemed nearer > him than it had ever been before. Perhaps it was the chariot aiting for the Christ Child. Or perhaps it was his sister, who ad died just after his injury, watching to see him made well. Hiy had he not thought of her before ? It had been a long time nee her name had crossed his lips ; he would say it just to hear ow it sounded. " Lena," he called softly ; and the star seemed ) smile and draw nearer at the word. He listened for his name in ssponse — The clock struck eleven. How drowsy he was getting ! What he should fall asleep and miss the Christ Child ! He would ing very low so as to disturb no one. He chose the hymn begin- ing: " Gepreiset seist du Jesu Christ, Dass nun der Tag erschienen ist." " Praised be Christ our Saviour That now the day has come." It sounded very sweet and full of meaning, for the day would ioon come, and oh, what a happy day for all ! Just then his land touched the crutch. "Poor old crutch ; you have had a lonely, dull life since you iame to me, but you will soon be free, for I shall be well to-morrow. Do you hear ? I shall be well. But I shan't forget you even hough I don't have to use you any more. You shall hang right by ;he window where you can see me at play, running and jumping like :he other boys. And I will tie a ribbon on you, a bright red ribbon, aood-bye, old crutch. Now I must watch for the Christ Child; jood-bye." 6 WERNER'S READINGS Karl turned his face toward the window. " It must be almoi twelve o'clock," he murmured, "and then I shall be well. V count the ticks : One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight- the clock never ticked so slowly. I believe it is trying to mak twelve o'clock late, just as I used to be late at school sometimes. His thoughts were becoming incoherent. Just then there wa a whirring sound in the machinery and the clock began to strike Karl scarcely breathed in his excitement, as he watched the twink ling sky to see it open for the Christ Child. A shimmering, undefinable something approached. Nearer an nearer it came, shaping itself as it spe'd toward the earth into being of glorious beauty. Midway in the air it stopped, with wing outspread and fluttering, throwing myriad rays of light upon th unconscious world. One ray fell near Karl, lighting his pale fac with a strange glory. With a great effort he raised himself and stretching out his arms toward the figure, cried : " Make me well Christ Child, make me well \" and sunk back on the pillow. For an instant, the radiance of the vision filled the tiny room making all things bright as day, and a strange, white, winge shape — was it a soul ? — floated through the window and upward o the path of light. Then the brightness faded out, and the root seemed darker and stiller than ever before. The great, bright sta still, shone, but other eyes beheld it ; it had sunk beneath th horizon. Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Mrs. Kraeme was astir early, but she did not waken Karl. She was very glad t have him sleep, and he seemed resting so quietly, with his fac turned toward the window. Perhaps he really was getting better and happy thoughts came fast as she planned what should be don when he was well. The clock striking seven roused her from the pleasant reverie She would go in and see if Karl were covered up, lie was so restles some nights. She crossed the room on tiptoe, and peeped over a his face to be sure that he was really asleep, for he sometimes mad believe, so as to throw his arms around he*' suddenly for a surprise Something in his expression startled her ; he had never looked s< AND RECITATIONS. 7 strangely on other mornings. She laid her hand on his brow — it was icy cold ! "Karl I" she screamed, "Karl, speak to me, Karl ! Oh, what does this mean ? " Then, like a flash of light, something came to her. She bowed her head as though from a blow, and whispered : "It is all plain now. He has seen the Christ Child. " HOW THEY CAUGHT THE PANTHER. ALFKED J. HOUGH. TT was early in the summer, and the school was near its close -*- Down at Shady Rill; the children sat upon the seats in rows, Conning well their morning lessons, only pausing to annoy, More in youthful sport than malice, Eddie Royce, the cripple boy. Ou the outskirts of the hamlet, not a dwelling-place in sight, Near a stream and grove of maples, stood the schoolhouse, painted white. There were stories that a panther had been seen, and every day Some one lost a lamb from pasture in a strange, mysterious way. Curious tracks were traced on highways, paths the cattle loved to take, Smaller than a bear's foot outlines, larger than a dog could make. Doors were opened wide that morning, windows lifted, and the air, Sweet as our Green Hills can make it, fondled with the children's hair. Rose, the teacher, moved to signal class, Third Reader, to the floor, But a glance out through a window sent her to the entry door ; Swift she closed it, locked and barred it, shut the windows, dropped the blinds, While the children watched her movements with strange looks and troubled minds. 8 WERNER'S READINGS " Children/' then she said in whispers, "you must promise to behave Like grown people here this morning, sitting still and calm and brave, For I saw, and ought to tell you, what may be the panther near ; But, shut in and sitting quiet, we are safe and need not fear." Then the house (Rose told the story) grew as silent as a. tomb; Nothing but the clock tick, ticking could be heard all through the room. Soon a low, deep growl assured them of the panther's presence near, And the birds and cattle answered with their notes and tones of fear. Round and round the house the creature snuffing, growling, pressed his way, Then before the entry doorstep stretched himself as if to stay. Silent, motionless, scarce breathing, anxiously the children sat, And while Rose was vainly seeking this way of escape and that, Eddie Royce came near and whispered plans that she at once ap- proved. Then in silence round the schoolroom calm and cautiously he moved, Gathered from the pails the luncheons, passed out through the inner door To the entry, spread the biscuits, meat, pie, cheese, upon the floor, Then unbarred, unlocked and lightly drew the outside door a slight Space ajar, crept to the schoolroom, closed its door and locked it tight, Listening, till he heard the panther in the entry with the food. At a signal Rose, the teacher, who the whole plan understood, Raised a window, lifted Eddie, kissed and passed him to th© ground, Watched him till his form had vanished— then deep silence — then a sound ; Eddie had the panther prisoned in the entry snug and tight, "While, in perfect order, passing through the windows left and right AND RECITATIONS. 9 Forth the children ran and gathered to the schoolhouse half a score Of well-armed men, while Rose, the teacher, helping Eddie, held the door. Light fell on the entry shining through side windows, high and small ; One contained a pane some scholar had once broken with a ball. After much discussing, planning, Joe Lavene, the best shot there, With a steady nerve and ready anything to do or dare, Climbed a woodpile, placed his rifle through the broken window- pane, — Down the panther dropped next instant with a bullet in his brain. Joe stood watching as he struggled on the floor fast growing red, Then he turned and coolly stated, •' He's a big one, but he's dead." So, through Eddie's manly courage, and with Joe's unerring skill, That is how they killed the panther, children, down at Shady Rill. THREE LITTLE KITTENS. A TKUE STORY. rpHREE little kittens, so downy and soft, -*- Were cuddled up by the fire, And two little children were sleeping aloft, As cosy as heart could desire ; Dreaming of something ever so nice, Dolls and sugar-plums, rats and mice. The night wore on, and the mistress said, "I am sleepy, I must confess, And as kitties and babies are safe in bed, I'll go to bed, too, I guess." She went upstairs, just a story higher, While the kittens slept by the kitchen fire, 10 WERNER'S READINGS « What noise can that be ?" the mistress said. "Meow! meow I" "I'm afraid A poor kitty- cat's fallen out of bed ! The nice little nest I made !" tf Meow! meow/" "Dear me! dear me! I wonder what can the matter be ! " The mistress paused on an upper stair, For, what did she see below ? But three little kittens, with frightened air, All standing up in a row ! With six little paws on the step above, And no mother cat to caress or love ! Through the kitchen door came a cloud of smoke ! The mistress, in great alarm, To a sense of danger straightway awoke — Her babies might come to harm. On the kitchen hearth, to her great amaze, Was a basket of shavings beginning to blaze. The three little kittens were hugged and kissed, And promised many a mouse, While their names were put upon honor's list, • For hadn't they saved the house ? And two little children were gathered tight To their mother's heart ere she slept that night. A SHAKESPEAREAN PERVERSION. "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" Her voice reechoes through the woodland drear, In cadence rising high, then falling low, Yet ever like a bell, so sweet and clear. She calleth — no response — no one is nigh — With anxious fears her voice doth lightly quiver ; The deaf ferryman heareth not her cry, "Row me, ! Row me, ! Row me o' the river!'' AND RECITATIONS. 11 JAPANESE PARASOL AND FAN DRILL. MRS. MARY L. GADDESS. rpWELVE girls are necessary for this drill. The hair is worn -*- high, with fancy pins and small fans stuck through it here and there. The dresses should almost touch the floor. The mate- rial is of the many-colored Madras goods that will represent Japan- ese style. A fan tied with ribbon hangs at one side. They enter, six from each side, with open Japanese paper para- sols of various colors. Six of the girls hold the parasols over their left shoulders and six over their right shoulders, so that when on the stage the parasols will be on opposite sides. They meet in centre and drop a stiff courtesy to one another, and then to the audience. All movements must be made with automatic precision. They then march to the front with a stiff, waddliug walk. Quick galop time for the music is easiest to manage, and the selection may be from the " Mikado." On reaching the front of stage and facing audience, they act as if frightened, and pull parasols suddenly over faces and scamper to back of stage. Then face audience from back and hold parasols open before faces. Suddenly shut them, as if firing off a gun. Drop down quickly all in a bunch on the floor, each at arm's length from the other, and dashing parasol open, whirl it round them on the floor. Quickly throw parasols over shoulders, and, rising to feet, put them over right shoulder and peep at audience out of left eye from under parasol. Two by two, waddle to front of stage and, shutting parasols, drop down in a bunch on floor and fan rapidly to music till end of measure, when they again go to back of stage with the swinging movement, parasols over shoulder and fanning. The whole effect is in getting the waddling step right, and it requires considerable practice. When thoroughly mastered, it pleases greatly. 12 WERNER'S READINGS THE TINTAMARRE. JULIA M. RYAN. [According to tradition, Count Thibaut, of Blois, taking pity on the lot of those who toiled in the fields, fixed the hour for beginning and ending the day's work. Every evening when the bell of the tower had rung, one could hear the workmen nearest the tower warning their fellow toilers either by shout or by the sound of their picks and spades, which they struck against one another. This was the Tintamarre, and during the confused hum could be heard the grateful shouts: "God pardon the good Count of Blois, "- Monteil.] [The refrain may be recited or sung. Give the prayer with fervor, the whole with spirit. For one not familiar with the French accent, it would be well to consult a living teacher, as otherwise much of the effect will be lost. The patois is here used, as seen by the form of the verb" pardoint " instead of "pardont." The words of the refraiii change after each stanza.] U "^TOW Maitre, this is the Tintamarre -v Of the village of Carmeray.'" So spoke a sunburnt campagnard By the Beauron's winding way. From hand to hand, from voice to voice, Five hundred years men say, It has summoned the weary to rejoice At the death of the worker's day. [ REFRAIN".] I BE? m ir^rd: -?-«-— jt Ho - ra - o ! Jean - Jean-not ! Dieu par-doint au Corote Thi-baut ! :=P J=F =*t :*=£ £-* H-T— J elieve that Harry was more unreasonable than ever, and said we rere trying to drown him. There is no comfort in wearing your- elf out trying to please little boys. You can't satisfy them, no aatter how much trouble you take. We had tried every plan we could think of to get Harry out of he chimney, but none of them succeeded. Tom said if we were pour a whole lot of oil down the chimney it would make it so lippery that Harry would slide right down into the back parlor, it I wouldn't do it, because I knew the oil would spoil Harry's lothes, and that would make Aunt Eliza angry. All of a sudden I heard a carriage stop at our gate, and there ere the grown folks, who had come home earlier than I supposed hey would. Tom said he thought he would go home before his 28 WERNER S K EA DINGS own folks began to get uneasy about him, so he went out of the back gate, and left me to explain things. They had to send for some men to come and cut a hole through the wall. Bnt they got Harry out all safe; and after they found that he wasn't a bit hurt, instead of thanking me for all Tom and I had done for him, they seemed to think that I deserved the worst punishment I ever had, and I got it. I shall never make another attempt to amuse children on Christmas eve. MOTHER'S HYMNS. EMILY G. WEATHERBEE. HUSHED are those lips, their earthly song is ended; The singer sleeps at last; While I sit gazing at her armchair vacant, And think of days long passed. The room still echoes with the old-time music, As, singing soft and low Those grand, sweet hymns, the Christian's consolation, She rocks her to and fro. Some that can stir the heart like shouts of triumph Or loud-toned trumpet's call, Bidding the people prostrate fall before Him, "And crown Him — Lord of all." And tender notes filled with melodious rapture, That leaned upon His word, Kose in those strains of solemn, deep affection, " I love thy kingdom, Lord." Safe hidden in the wondrous " Rock of Ages," She bade farewell to fear; Sure thntl.cr Lord would always gently lead her, She read her title clear. AND RECITATIONS. 29 Joyful she saw '■'■from Greenland' s icy mountains" The Gospel flag; unfurled ; And knew by faith ' ' the morning light teas breaking " Over a sinful world. " TJiere is a fountain ," how the tones triumphant Eose in victorious strains, "Filled with that precious blood, for all the ransomed, Drawn from Immanuel's veins." Dear saint, in heavenly mansions long since folded, Safe in God's fostering love She joins with rapture in the blissful chorus Of those bright choirs above. There, where no tears are known , no pain nor sorrow, Safe beyond Jordan's roll She lives forever with her blessed Jesus, The lover of her soul. WHEN WASHINGTON WAS PRESIDENT. ROBERT J. BURDETTE. WHEN Washington was president, as cold as any icicle, He never on a railroad went, and never rode a bicycle. le read by no electric lamp, nor heard about the Yellowstone, le never licked a postage-stamp, and never saw a telephone. lis trousers ended at the knees, by wire he could not send dispatch ; le filled his lamp with whale-oil grease, and never had a match to scratch. 5ut in these days it's come to pass, all work is with such dashing done — Ve've all those things; but then, alas! — we seem to have no Washington. 30 WERNER'S READINGS THE RABBI AND THE PRINCE. JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY. A MONARCH sat, in serious thought, alone, -*--*- But little recked he of his robe and throne, Naught valuing the glory of control, He sought to solve the future of his soul. " Why should I bow the proud, imperious knee, To mighty powers no mortal eye can see ?" So mused he long, and turned this question o'er ; Then, with impatient tread, he paced the floor, 'Till maddened by conflicting trains of thought, And speculations vague which came to naught, With feverish haste he clutched a tasseled cord, As desperate hands in battle clutch a sword. " Summon Jehoshua/' the monarch cried ; The white-haired Rabbi soon was at his side. " I bow no more to powers I cannot see. Thy faith and learning shall be naught to me, Unless, before the setting of the sun, Mine eyes behold the Uncreated One." The Rabbi led him to the open air. The oriental sun, with furious glare, Sent down its rays, like beams of molten gold. The aged teacher, pointing, said, "Behold." "I cannot," said the prince. "My dazzled eyes Refuse their service, turned upon the skies." " Son of the dust," the Rabbi gently said, And bowed with reverence his hoary head, " This one creation thine eyes cannot behold, Though by thy lofty state and pride made boli, AND RECITATIONS. 31 How canst thou, then, behold the God of Light, Before whose face these sunbeams are as night ? Thine eyes, before this trifling labor fall, Canst gaze on Him, who hath created all ? Son of the dust, repentance can atone ; Return and worship God, who rules alone." LIFE'S DAY. TABLEAU RECITATION. MRS. MARY L. GADDESS. Twelve maidens are required to represent the twelve months of the year, or childhood, girlhood, maidenhood, womanhood, decline and old age. The girls are dressed appropriately for the months they represent. The first maid comes out and says : 1st Maid : I love the breath of fresh damp earth When early flowers of spring have birth ; The crocus and the datfodil, Lift up their tender heads so still And quietly, that spring is here Almost before we think it near. [Stands aside for 2d Maid, who, advancing, says:] 2d Maid : And then the sun with warm caress Begins to smile, and kiss, and bless ; And one by one the little streams Break into music, and the gleams Of sunlight through the tree-tops fall, And shed a golden light o'er all. [She steps hack beside 1st Maid.] 32 WERNER'S READINGS 3d Maid : The birds take up the glad refrain, And summer time has come again. Across the meadow as he goes. The busy farmer plows and sows [imitate sowing seed] With cheerful heart, believing soon The harvest time Avill bud and bloom. [She retires beside others.] 4th Maid : All through the days so bright and long, The hum of bees and birds' sweet song, The rippling brook by mossy glade, Each sylvan nook and pleasant shade, Are full of peace and joy supreme, And life seems but a happy dream. [Retires beside others.] oth Maid : The red ripe fruit in orchards fair Fill with perfume the summer air ; The new-mown hay and clover yield Their wealth of incense o'er the field ; While hardy men with sickles keen Add a new beauty to the scene. [Retires beside others.] 6th Maid : The grain is scattered on the ground, Then into sheaves is quickly bound ; Homeward at last they wend their way At close of the bright harvest-day. The moon arises calm, serene, To tint with beauty all the scene. [Retires beside others.] 7th Maid : The summer wanes ; September sun Eipens the corn. Autumn has come, And crimson, purple, gold and brown Become October's lovely crown. The dead leaves rustle 'neath our tread, The lovely summer now is fled. [Retires beside others.] AND RECITATIONS. 33 8th Maid : But Nature teaches lessons still, Though silent be each tiny rill. Squirrel and rabbit, hidden, play Among their stores for winter day. Men gather by an ample board, With grateful thanks unto the Lord. [Retires beside others.] 9th Maid : The golden pumpkin stands supreme Before them all, November's queen ; While goodly fruits and pleasant cheer, Make glad the fall time of the year ; And though the summer days are gone, The year is not of gladness shorn. [Retires beside others.] 10th Maid : Across the hills, one winter day, The snow-clouds chased the sun away ; And ere the twilight, thick and fast The white flakes fell at every blast, Till field and meadow, moor and hill, Were covered, and 'twas snowing still. 11th Maid : The flakes so lightly fall around, You scarce can see them. Not a sound Breaks the deep silence ; thus the snow Will softly come and softly go, Throwing a mantle pure and white, Over the silent winter's night. 12th Maid : But soon across the snow will steal The Christmas chimes. Oh, hear them peal ! "Glad tidings, peace on earth, good-will!" Bing out, glad bells ! We would not still Your notes of joy, but join the song, The loud hosannas to prolong. [AH join in chorus, advancing from back of stage ; sing to music] 34 WERNER'S READINGS 3=« — *— F — i — a)— F Ff I hear the hap - py Christ - mas bells, Hark, how their mer-ry All earth re-joice! Break out in song, The hap- py tid-ings rear their state - ly heads, And u mu - sic swells! to pro - long; While li lies * -•— -t- VI o - lets sweet per -fume shed A- round the - r - 4- al - 1=:=|: 2t 3£*=i -\=-- -jL :t: where we raise To Bethlehem's babe a song of praise Chorus. - fr -- : : r — * rV N !V 1— fc- =Jfc =S rh±3t Peace on earth, to men good will, Al - le - al - le - lu - ial 3E •— - H Hark! the an -gels sing it still, Al - le - al - le - lu - ia! [All stand now hand in hand, while some one advances from back of stage and 7'ecites ;] Reciter : The New Year comes, and in her train Is joy and sorrow, grief and pain ; Yet we can wait, and, trusting, go Over the path we do not know, Led by the Eye that sees the way, And guides us through life's busy day. For this is life. My little song Has only been to lead along "With the year's changes, day by day, AND RECITATIONS. 35 And see if we may find the way From early youth to eventide, To walk with Nature, side by side. And quickly, then, we all shall find That Nature's God is very kind ; And if He can so clothe the field, And bless with an abundant yield, Surely He will no less supply His children's wants, and hear their cry. [Curtain falls as all stand hand in hand singing the chorus above ; " Peace on earth," etc.] UNSEEN YET SEEN. T HAVE somewhere read in a thoughtful book, -*■- Of an old cathedral over the sea (A wonder of art, whose every nook Is full of a charming mystery), That up, high up, on the topmost point Of roof and tower and belfry gray, "Which the gracious summer dews anoint And the birds frequent in their airy way, There are marvels of sculpture, rare and fine, Flower and fruit and trailing vine ; And lovely angels with folded wings, Cut from the stone like livirig things ; And pure Madonnas, and saints at prayer, With reverent head and flowing hair ; Colossal figures by height diminished, "With every lineament finely finished. Yet all this delicate tracery Was not made for mortal eyes to see. Who was the artist whose chisel wrought Into exquisite work such exquisite thought? Why did he labor for years and years, 36 WERNER'S READINGS Through days of travailing, nights of tears, Under the stars and under the moon, Dreaming, designing, at morn and noon, To work those wonders in wood and stone, Which God and His angels see alone ? God and His angels ! Behold the ke) T To this strange, unworldly mystery ! That grand old artist mounted on high, Like an eagle perched in his eyrie lonely, Working with hand and heart and eye, Was working for God and His angels only. No mean, self-conscious motive stirred The tranquil depths of his patient heart But praise or censure, alike unheard, In his chaste communings had no part. Far, far below him the world was spread, Like a painted picture, small and dim ; And the voice of creatures, the rush and tread Of the mighty millions, were lost on him, While the skies bent over him, blue and broad, So full of the awful, unseen God. Heaven seemed so near, and earth so far, No selfish thoughts could his labor mar Ah ! what a lovely moral lies Hid (like the delicate tracery On roof and tower and gray belfry Of the old cathedral over the sea), In its storied legend's dim disguise. 'Tis worth infinite treasure to know (Whatever beside should be unknown), How utterly false and mean we grow When we work for the eyes of men alone. How blind and aching our sight becomes, With the glare of glory such works may win us, While a selfish purpose narrows and numbs AND RECITATIONS. 37 All that is noble and fresh within us. 'Tis only when self is dead and gone, And our souls from the mists of passion free That the angels of God come in and crown Our labors with immortality. artists who work with pencil or pen, With chisel or brush, for the praise of men, When you fold your hands at the twilight's close, And muse in your darkened studios, Do you never consider, once for all, How that other and deeper night must fall, When earth and the things thereof shall be Lost, like a dream in eternity ? When, shrinking and startled, with soul laid bare, The creature shall meet the Creator there, And learn at the foot of the Great White Throne, A truth which should have never been unknown : That nothing avails us under the sun, In word, or in work, save that which is done For the honor and glory of God alone ? Oh, blessed indeed are the pure of heart ! For they shall see God in their glorious art ; And joyous shall be (though the world wax dim), If none shall behold them save Him, save Him ; And they are the sculptors whose work shall last, Whose names shall shine as the stars on high, When deep in the dust of a ruined past The labors of selfish souls shall lie. Brothers who work with pencil or pen. With chisel or brush, for the praise of men, Whate'er ye design, whatever ye do, Seek first the kingdom of God, and then All else shall be graciously added to you ; And the moral is yours which was sent to me From the old cathedral over the sea. WERNER'S READINGS THE ORPHAN'S DREAM OF CHRISTMAS. TT was Christmas eve, and lonely. ■ By a garret window high, Where the city chimneys barely Spared a hand's breadth of the sky Sat a child in age, but weeping, With a face so small and thin, That it seemed too scant a record To have eight years traced therein But the Christmas time returning, As an old friend, for whose eye She would take down all the pictures Sketched by faithful memory. Of those brilliant Christmas seasons, When the joyous laugh went round ; When sweet words of love and kindness Were no unfamiliar sound. When, lit by the log's red lustre, She her mother's face could see, And she rocked the cradle, sitting On her own twin brother's knee. Of her father's pleasant stories, Of the riddles and the rhymes, All the kisses and the presents That had marked those Christmas times How there came a time of struggling When, in spite of love and faith, Grinding poverty would only In the end give place to death. How her mother grew heart-broken When her toil-worn father died, AND RECITATIONS. 39 Took her baby in lier bosom, And was buried by his side. How she clung unto her brother As the last spar from the wreck ; But stern death had come between them While her arms were round his neck. There were now no loving voices ; And if few hands offered bread, There was none to rest in blessing On the little homeless head. But she prayed ; and the Unsleeping In His ear that whisper caught ; And sent down sweet Sleep who gave her Such a respite as she sought ; Drew the fair head to her bosom, Pressed the wetted eyelids close, And with softly falling kisses, Lulled her gently to repose. Then she dreamed the angels, sweeping With, their wings the sky aside, Eaised her swiftly to the country Where the blessed ones abide ; To a bower all flushed with beauty, By a shadowy arcade, Where a mellowness like moonlight By the Tree of Life was made. Where the rich fruit sparkled, star-like, And pure flowers of fadeless dye Poured their fragrance on the water That in crystal beds went by ; Where bright hills of pearl and amber Closed the fair green valleys round, And with rainbow light, but lasting, Were their glistening summits crowned. 4u WERNER'S READINGS Then, that distant-burning glory, 'Mid a gorgeousness of light, The long vista of archangels Could scarce chasten to her sight. There sat One ; and her heart told her 'Twas the same who, for our sin, Once was born a little baby, In the stable of an inn. There was music, oh, such music ! They were trying the old strains That a certain group of shepherds Heard on old Judea's plains ; But, when that divinest chorus 'To a softened trembling fell, Love's true ear discerned the voices That on earth she loved so well. At a tiny grotto's entrance, A fair child her eyes behold, With his ivory shoulders hidden 'Neath his curls of brightest gold ; And he asks them, "Is she coming?'* But ere anyone can speak, The white arms of her twin brother Are once more about her neck. Then they all come round her, greeting | But she might have well denied That her beautiful young sister Is the poor pale child that died ; And the care-worn look hath vanished From her father's tearless face, And she does not know her mother Till she feels the old embrace. Oh, from that ecstatic dreaming, Must she ever wake again, AND RECITATIONS. 41 To the cold and cheerless contrast, To a life of lonely pain ? But her Maker's sternest servant To her side on tip toe stepped, Told his message in a whisper, And she stirred not as she slept ! Now the Christmas morn was breaking With a dim, uncertain hue, And the chilling breeze of morning Came the broken window through; And the hair upon her forehead, Was it lifted by the blast, Or the brushing wings of seraphs With their burden as they passed ? All the festive bells were chiming To the myriad hearts below ; But that deep sleep still hung heavy On the sleeper's thoughtful brow. To her quiet face, the dream-light Had a lingering glory given ; But the child herself was keeping Her glad Christmas day in heaven ! A CHILDISH FANCY. Long ago in our childhood's years We thought, my brother and I, How the little stars in their golden thrones As they shone in the evening sky Were little holes in heaven's blue door, Where the glory came shining through. At each blink we thought an angel passed And hid the light from view. *2 WERNER'S READINGS THE IVORY CRUCIFIX. G. H. MILES. TT^ITHIN an attic old at Genoa, full many a year, I ween, Had lain a block of ivory, the largest ever seen. A monk obtained, and to his cell the relic rare conveyed, And bending o'er the uncouth block this monk, communing, said "Be mine the happy task by day and through the midnight's gloom, To toil and still toil on until this shapeless mass assume The form of Him who on the cross for us poured forth his blood ; Thus man shall ever venerate this relic of the flood. Though now a witness to the wrath of the dread God above, Changed by my chisel, it shall be the emblem of His love." That night, when on his pallet stretched, as slumber o'er him stole, A glorious vision brightly broke upon his ravished soul. He sees his dear Eedeemer stand on Calvary's sacred height ; The crucifixion is renewed before his awe-struck sight ; He sees his Saviour's pallid cheek with pitying tears impearled, He hears His dying accents bless a persecuting world ; Sees the last look of love supreme conquering each aching sense, Superior to agony its deep benevolence. The matin bell has pealed — the monk starts from his brief repose ; But still before his waking eye the vivid dream arose. His morning orisons are paid, his hand the chisel wields, Slowly before the eager steel the stubborn ivory yields. And now from every blemish freed, upon his kindling eye, In all its pristine beauty, dawns the milk-white ivory. The sun arose, the sun went down, arose and set again, But still the monk his chisel plies — oh ! must he toil in vain ? Not his the highly cultured touch that bade the marble glow, And with a hundred statues linked the name of Angelo. AND RECITATIONS. 43 Perchance some tiny image he had fashioned oft before ; But Art had ne'er to him unveiled her closely hoarded lore. Four years elapsed befoic the monk threw his worn chisel by ; Complete at last before him lies the living ivory. His dream at last is bodied forth, and to the world is given — A sight that well may wean the soul from earth awhile to heaven. The dying look of love supreme conquering each aching sense, Unquenched by burning pain, reveals its vast benevolence. Behold that violated cheek with pitying tears impearled, The parting lips that seem to bless a persecuting world. Has not the light of page inspired a true reflection here ; Does not the sacrifice of love in ivory re-appear ? THE DANDELIONS. TTPON a shadowy night and still, ^ Without a sound of warning, A trooper band surprised the hill And held it in the morning. We were not waked by bugle notes, No cheer our dreams invaded ; And yet at dawn their yellow coats On the green slopes paraded. We careless folk the deed forgot, Till one day, idly walking, We marked upon the self-same spot A crowd of veterans talking. They shook their trembling heads and gray With pride and noiseless laughter ; When, well a day ! they blew away, And ne'er were heard after ! 44 WERNER'S READINGS HARVEST DRILL. ARRANGED BY SARA S. RICE. Costume : A, gathered skirt of some bright material, reaching a little be low the knee, and a loose shirt-waist ; a coarse farmer's hat set jauntily on the head (a little wheat or some kind of grass on the hat will add greatly to the effect); a sickle (if the blade is painted red or some bright color, it produces a very bright and pretty effect) ; a tin cup suspended from the waist ; a whet stone stuck in the belt. Explanation of terms : Up the stage means toward the back ; down the stage means toward the front ; R. E. means right entrance ; L. E. left entrance The music n¥iy be any good march. Any even number of girls may take part. Enter in single file, half from R E. and half from L. E., sickle on shoulder, Each line marches in a narrowing ciicle, thus forming a spiral ; and when the leader reaches the centre, she turns on her heel and leads the way out of the spiral. March up centre of stage, along back of stage around to front, every other one coming to the front row. Recede four steps. Half of the girls on the front row and the half on the back nearest R. E. turn toward R. E.; the other half turn toward L. E. March around stage, and as the lines meet, thread them ; that is. let one leader pass in front of the other, then behind the next girl, in front of the next, etc. Each line continues round the stage. Each girl stops as she regains her former place. A TTENTION ! i. Prepare : (1) take sickle from shoulder ; (2) put it in left hand, holding in front ; (3, 4) take out whetstone. 2. Sharpen - : counting four. 5. Eeady : (1) put whetstone back ; (2) put sickle in right hand ; (3, 4) let sickle hang at side. 4. Single File : Those on back row step in their proper places, between girls of front row. 5. Face R. E. 6. March, swinging sickle as if cutting. March along front of stage and around the back ; then along front again, the leader stopping as she reaches the left end, and every other girl goes onj the back row again. 7. Pick Stones : (1) stoop ; (2, 3) tap end of sickle on floor twice ; (4) original position. . AND RECITATIONS. 45 8. Wipe Sick"le : (1) put sickle in left hand ; (2) pick up rass ; (3) wipe sickle several times ; (4) drop grass and take sickle n right hand. 9. Gaze : (1) lift sickle up ; (2) lean forward, placing sickle >ver eyes, holding handle in one hand and point in other ; (3) emain stationary ; (4) original position. 10. Crescent : (1) raise sickle ; (2) form crescent, the even lumbers counting from the right end, placing the convex edge of iheir sickle near the concave edge of their partner's sickle, holding ;hem vertically ; (3) remain stationary ; (4) original position. 11. Arch : (1) lift sickle in front; (2) form arch, tapping mds together as you do so ; (3) the two forming arch together, iach puts her free arm around her partner's neck, put heads close together, and look through arch smiling ; (4) original position, 12. Interlace: (1) raise. sickle; (2) place handles together, slades crossing ; (3) remain stationary ; (4) original position. 13. Front row swing sickles lightly, touching tin cup; those on 3nds of front rows march toward each other, thus forming circle. As the ends meet, each girl places the handle of her sickle on the shoulder of the girl to her right, the sickle partly forming a frame around the girls' faces. Place left hand on hip of girl to the left, then go around toward right making circle once, then back to their original positions. They step between girls of back row, thus put- ting them in front row. While fi'ont row is doing this marching, the back row keeps time by tapping tin cup with sickle. The back row, which is now in front, goes through same things as the front row did, the others keeping time for them. 14. Weary : (1) break ranks, standing in any position, but keeping a straight line ; (2) place left hand on hip, drooping the head to right resting it on sickle, eyes drooped, but not closed ; (3) remain stationary; (4) original position, placing sickle in left hand. 15. Refreshing : (1) take handkerchief from pocket ; (2) fan with it ; (3) wipe face ; (4) original position, hand in pocket. 16. Drinking : (1) stoop, taking hold of cup as you do so ; (2) dip up water and rise ; (3) drink ; (4) original i^osition, placing sickle in right hand. 46 WERNER'S READINGS 17. Gossip : (1) incline head toward neighbor, eyes looking in opposite direction ; (2) place sickle in front of mouth ; (3) remain stationary ; (4) original position. 18. Joy : (1) take tin cup in left hand ; (2) raise tin cup and sickle in front of eyes ; (3) raise them over the head until meeting (here there may be an exclamation, as " Bravo," etc.); (4) original position. March to centre, where, meeting partner, form arch with sickle and march to left of platform, columns separate, first couple marching through, others doing likewise. March to right of stage, then to middle, then off. THE LITTLE TIN CUP. THOMAS FROST. ~\TTHOA, Betty! How do, sir? Is this here the 'sylum for * ^ folk as is mad ? It air ? Wal, my Lucy's to hum, sir ; not ravin' ; oh, no, jist a fad. You see, it were this how : last harvest we parted with baby — with Chick ; The pootiest child in the kentry; the rompinest, 'fore he got sick, And his mother, poor gal, took it badly when we telled her as baby was dead, Eor she didn't shed tears like she'd orter, but sot thar a-shakin' her head. And when baby was put in the parlor she crep' sof'ly up to the box, And we heerd her say, "Go to sleep, darlin'," as she brushed back his bootiful locks. But nex' day she was sleepin' herself, sir, when they come from the taown with the hearse, So we went to the graveyard without her, and saved her the 'sterics, or worse. AND RECITATIONS. 4? iVal, when we got back from the f un'ral, thar was Lucy a-gettin' the tea ; 3n the table was three cups and saucers, for her and the sis- ter and me; But I can't tell the turn as it give me to see on the cloth, polished up, , Jist as bright as it shined on his birthday, our poor Chickey s little tin cup ! Then the sister she starts in a-cryin', an' says she, with her face very white, "Lucy, dear, don't you know that the baby wont want any supper to-night?" Then, poor gal, she jist lifts up her finger and she points it at baby's old place, ..._,' . ' And she says, "Don't the tin cup look dirty along o that dazzlin' face ! " Ev'ry mornin' she's up with the daybreak, a-scrubbin' that poor bit o' tin ; , ... ^, And she's still at it, scourin' and rubbin', when the shudders of evenin' comes in ; But it's black, sir-as black as the kittle-compared with the child as sits there, Shinin' bright with the glory o' heaven ; still as death in his little high chair ! So I've come, sir, to ask you to take her, and larn her that Chick's gone away To a place whar no suff'rin' kin enter ; no rust, nor disease, nor decay; ,, But ef God sent this stroke as a mercy, ef the doctors an gives Lucy r.n, ■ , ,' She will bring back a heart that ain't broken, and polish the little tin cup. 48 WERNER'S READINGS LASS DOROTHY. O H ! it was a sight right fearsome, Fit to curdle the stoutest heart, That little craft caught in the teeth Of the hungry, foaming breakers, That crunched it and tore it and broke it % Now on the jagged rocks flinging, Then catching it back, as tigers Sport with their prey, then devour it ; And the six men up in the rigging, Clinging and praying and shuddering, As one would shudder who looked Down into his own grave open. All the fisher-folk were away — Six leagues away to the northward, - Where the night before they had sailed. On the sands below wer.e only Three old men peering and moaning : " Ah ! if we were young as we once were, Who knows but that we might save them.'" And the women were wringing their hands With quavering, shrill cries, pitiful. Among them, poised on her bare feet, Like a bird all plumed, for flying, Her brown hair streaming and tossing, Her soft cheeks flushing and paling, But her eyes clear, stood Lass Dorothy. Straight and strong-limbed and sun-browned Was she, modest, withal, and winsome. "Will the vessel break up in an hour? If I thowt so lang she would hing there I'd awa for the life-boat/' cried she. AND RECITATIONS. 49 "Nay, nay;, lass," answered old Donald; " Could ye gang the four miles Ye could nae cross the burn Swollen to bursting." "I'll awa," spake Dorothy, nothing more. And swiftly she darted off to the moor, As from the strained bow the arrow goes leaping. For a mile the fierce gale she battled ; Then down to the sands forced to scramble, Where the huge waves were rolling, And through the hollow rocks booming their thunder, Sped on, through the foam flashing Knee-deep, ever fighting for footing. What though her heart sank ? In she plunged— For oh, the men that were drowning ! Waist deep, then over head sinking, Seized by a swirling eddy, Struggling up to her feet, on pressing again. So reached she at last the house Where lived the coxswain of the life-boat, And sank at the threshhold, swooning, But gasping with wan lips: "The schooner On the letch — nor'ward ! " Well knew the coxswain The need that had sent her. "Look after the lass, good wife," he shouted, And ran for the life-boat. The blessed life-boat ! How it shot out Into the surges, bounding away and away — Around the point — close up to the rock undaunted. And lo ! the six men dropped into it Saved, as solemnly joyful As if into heaven they had come Out of death with its chrism on their forehead. Only a simple lass still is Dorothy, Never dreaming she has done aught heroic. SO WERNER'S READINGS Yet sometimes o' nights, when the Storm-wind is out, she smiles As she lays her head on its rude straw-pillow, To think of the six men somewhere safe, Because she dared through the gale and the foam To run four miles for the life-boat. THE BEE'S SERMON. C\ OOD MORNING, dear friends ! I'm a clever young bee ^ And a sermon I'll preach if you'll listen to me ; It will not be long and it will not be dry, And your own common-sense my remarks may apply. Not slothful in business must be the first head, For with vigor we work till the sun goes to bed ; And unless one is willing to put forth one's powers There is no getting on in a world such as ours. We are fond of our dwellings ; no gossips are we, No gadders about idle neighbors to see ; And though we are forced for our honey to roam, We come back as soon as we can to our home. " The way to be happy and wealthy and wise Is early to rest and early to rise." This proverb has molded our conduct for years, And we never sleep when the daylight appears. If you were to peep in our hives you would own That as models of cleanliness they might be shown ; All dust and all dirt, without any delay, Are swept from our door and soon carried away. AND RECITATIONS. . 51 kVhen one of our number is sick or distressed, 3e is sure of kind treatment from each of the rest ; We sympathize warmly with those who're in grief, find are eager to proffer immediate relief. We carry our stings not on any pretense For aggressive attack, but in self-defense ; We meddle with no one, and only repel issailants who will not in peace with us dwell. Sow my sermon is ended, and you, if you please, Some hints may derive from us hard-working bees ; May your life be as useful, your labors' as sweet, ^.nd may you have plenty of honey to eat ! N O ! SOMEBODY asked me to take a drink, What did I tell him ? What do you think ? I told him — No. Somebody asked me one day to play A game of cards ; and what did I say ? I told him — No. Somebody laughs that I will not swear A.nd lie and steal ; but I do not care ; I told him — No. Somebody asked me to take a sail On the Sabbath day ; 'twas of no avail ; I told him — No. "If sinners entice thee, consent thou not/* My Bible said, and so on the spot I told him — No. 53 . WERNER'S READINGS THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. ANNIE WALL. /^vlSTCE, when this grand old earth was young, ^~J An angel thought to bring From earth's fair fields a blossom sweet To offer to his King. He wandered o'er the fertile fields, He gazed on blossoms bright ; Too bright they* seemed for his desire, Too gay to please his sight. "Oh ! for a pure, white flower," he sighed, "Fit for my King to wear." Though long he sought, no flower of white Was blooming anywhere. So, worn and weary, he sat down To weep that none were found ; His crystal tears flowed o'er his robe And sank into the ground. At once a lily white sprang up, All pure, his gaze to meet ; Singing, he gathered it and flew And laid it at God's feet. Pleased was his King. " This flower," He said, " Because of this shall grow, Henceforth, a sign to sinful man, O'er all the earth below." Thus came the lily, pure and fair ; Who looks may read this sign In its white cup, the angel's tears, The purity divine. AND RECITATIONS. T o6 FRIAR SERVETUS. CLIFFORD LAXIER. rpHE Monk Servetus sits alone -*- Within his small, unfurnished cell; Few comforts were this hermit's own — This anchorite of book and bell. Communion brings companionship. And lo ! he is not all alone ; , A greeting trembles on his lip For that which sudden round him shone. In ecstacy of great delight He bends to grasp his Saviour's hands; Big, joyful tears spring at the sight ; He knows not if he kneels or stands. Alas ! Now strikes a hateful sound, The jingle of the postern door ; It stings him like a poisoned wound, And summons him to feed the poor. Vexation springs within his beart; A dark frown shadows o'er his face ; The menial task, the drudge's part Calls yonder; here is Christ's high grace. He goes with pang and footstep slow, Is long detained by hunger's moan ; He hastens back from mortal woe To kiss the bare stone where He shone. What tender yoice breaks on his ear ? The light is as of Easter morn : " As thou didst go, I still am here ; Hadst thou remained, I had been gone." 54 WERNER'S READINGS THE MONKS' MAGNIFICAT. E. NESBIT. [The musical accompaniment begins with the 8th and continues to the 13t stanza. An organ should be used if possible, and the psalm played soft an< low while the speaker is reciting. The music swells forth when the recite chants, then subsides to a low, sweet strain like an under-current as the nam tive goes on. The " Gloria Patri " should be sung very softly yet clearly; th other versicles grandly, with all the beauty and power of your voice.] "T~K midst of wide, green pasture lands, cut through - 1 - By lines of alderd, bordering deep-banked streams, Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams, The abbey stood — so still, it seemed a part Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart. And all the villages and hamlets near Knew the monks' wealth and how their wealth was spent. In tribulation, sickness, want, or fear, First to the abbey all the peasants went Certain to find a welcome, and to be Helped in the hour of their extremity. They, in their simple ways and works, were glad ; Yet all men must have sorrows of their own. And so a bitter grief the brothers had, Nor mourned for others' heaviness alone. This Avas the secret of their sorrowing : That not a monk in all the house could sing! If love could sweeten voice to sing a song, Theirs had been sweetest song was ever sung; AND RECITATIONS. 55 But their hearts' music reached their lips all wrong, Their souls' intent foiled by the traitorous tongue That marred the chapel's peace, and seemed to scare The rapt devotion lingering in the air. The brothers prayed with penance and with tears That God would let them give some little part Out for the solace of their own sad ears Of all the music crowded in their heart. Their nature and the marsh air had their way, And still they sang more harshly every day. And all their prayers and fasts availing not To give them voices sweet, their souls' desire, The abbot said : " Gifts He did not allot, God at our hands will not again require; Praise Him we must, and since we cannot praise As we would choose, we praise Him in our ways." But one good brother, anxious to remove This, the reproach now laid on them so long, Eejected counsel, and for very love Besought a brother, skilled in art of song, To come to them — his cloister far to leave— And sing "Magnificat" on Christmas eve. [Music begins; playing clearer as the reciter commences to chant, then soft and low until he chants again.] =T=t -&= * m ^= ^E^^EE^ Ma - - gni - - Scat anima me - a Dominum 3=* g-, IN ^=BE=s=l=l Et ex - ultavit spiritus me - U3 in Deosalu-ta - ri me - o. 56 WERNER'S READINGS And when- the time for singing it had come, With pure face raised, and sweetest voice, he sang : " Magnificat anima mea Dominum, et exultavit spiriius metis : in Deo salutari meo." Each in his stall the monks stood glad and dumb, As through the chancel's dusk his voice outrang, Pare, clear and perfect — as the thrushes sing Their first impulsive welcome of the spring. At the first notes the abbot's heart spoke low : " Oh, God, accept this singing, seeing we, Had we the power, would ever praise Thee so — Would, ever, Lord, Thou know'st, sing thus for Thee; . Thus in our hearts Thy hymns are ever sung, As he Thou blessest sings them with his tongue." But as the voice rose higher, and more sweet, :4 M g = zg = =± Su - see - pit Israel puerum su-um,recordatusmisericor-di-ae su - ae. "Suscepit Israel puerum suum, recordatus misericordice sum." The abbot's heart said : " Thou hast heard us grieve, And sent an angel from beside Thy feet, To sing 'Magnificat' on Christmas eve, To ease our ache of soul, and let us see How we some day in heaven shall sing to Thee/' . The white moon through the window seemed to gaze On the pure face and eyes the singer raised; The storm-wind hushed the clamor of its ways, God seemed to stoop to hear Himself thus praised ; . And breathless all the brothers stood, and still Beached longing souls out to the music's thrill. AND RECITATIONS. 57 Old years came back, and half -forgotten hours, Dreams of delight that never was to he, Mother's remembered kiss, the funeral flowers Laid on the grave of life's felicity ; An infinite dear passion of regret Swept through their hearts, and left their eyelids wet. § =t ^E^^feE Mb — g— =p--HzMr= ^— £ =1S= ^ =\ Glo - ria Patri et Fi - lio et Spiri - tu - i san - cto. "Gloria Patri et Filio tt Spiritui Sancto." [Music ceases.] When, service done, the brothers gathered round To thank the singer — modest-eyed said he : '•' Not mine the grace, if grace indeed abound, God gave the power, if any power there be ; If I in hymn or psalm clear voice can raise, As His the gift, so His be all the praise!" That night, the abbot lying on his bed, A sudden flood of radiance on him fell, Poured from the crucifix above his head, And cast a stream of light across his cell; And in the fullest fervor of the light An angel stood, glittering and great and white. The angel spoke — his voice was low and sweet As the sea's murmur on low-lying shore, Or whisper of the wind in ripened wheat : "Brother,*' he said, "the God we both adore Hath sent me down to ask, is all not right? Whv was ' Magnificat' not sung to-night?" 58 WERNER'S READINGS Tranced in the joy the angel's presence brought, The abbot answered : " All these weary years We've sung our best, but always have we thought Our voices were unworthy heavenly ears ; And so to-night we found a clearer tongue, And by it the 'Magnificat' was sung." The angel answered : " All these happy years In heaven has your ' Magnificat ' been heard ; This night alone, the angels' listening ears Of all its music caught no single word. Say, who is he whose goodness is not strong Enough to bear the burden of his song?" The abbot named his name. "Ah, why," he cried, "Have angels heard not what we found so dear?" "Only pure hearts," the angel's voice replied, ' ' Can carry human song up to God's ear ; To-night in heaven was missed the sweetest praise That ever rises from earth's mud-stained maze. " The monk who sang 'Magnificat' is filled With love of praise, and witli inanity ; He sings for earth — in heaven his notes are stilled By muffling weight of deadening vanity ; His heart is chained to earth and cannot bear His singing higher than the listening air ! e< From purest hearts most perfect music springs ; And while you mourned your voices were not sweet, Marred by the accident of earthly things, In heaven, God, listening, judged your song complete. The sweetest of earth's music came from you — The music of a noble life and true ! " AND RECITATIONS. 59 THE KING'S BELL. f\NCE upon a time, after a long and honorable reign, a king Pf lay dying. He called to him his son and heir, and said : " The rights of a king will one day come to naught ; he who jeems to rule is the veriest slave of all. You must look for noth- ng but a life of trouble, and consider yourself fortunate if you can me day die in peace." But the prince, being young and full of hope, and having the wilfulness and inexperience of youth, protested, as young persons will, that he knew better. "The cares of state/' he said, "shall sit lightly upon me. The life of a king should be one long holiday. I will show my cour- tiers and all the world what true happiness means. What is the ase of being a king if one cannot be happy ? Why, a bird in the lir or a peasant in the field is better off than that ! I am in no hurry for my kingdom — indeed, most dear father, I am not ; but 1 shall be a happy king." While he spoke his father sighed and died. When the royal mourning was over the new king ordered that a bell of silver should be placed upon the top of the palace in a high tower. Attached to it were many ropes, so arranged to connect with the rooms below that wherever the king might be one should be always near his hand. "Whenever I am happy I shall ring the bell," he told his cour- tiers and friends ; "and that, you shall see, will be often, for I am sure that my father's dying words were mistaken ones. Yes, I shall be a happy king." So the years slipped by ; and, though they listened, his people never heard the bell. One thing after another prevented the king from ringing it. " When I get through this grievous affair of state," he would say, "I shall be happy." But that affair would be succeeded by another. Then he would murmur : " This wai over, peace will come, and the bell can be heard after." But be- fore his hand could clasp the bell-rope, word would be brought of other outbreaks. So the bell was silent. 60 WERNER'S READINGS At last he, like his father, lay with his life slipping away. The priests came in good time to administer the last sacraments. A noise of weeping floated through the palace. " What sound is that ? " asked the king. They dared not tell him. " I command you to tell me," he said to the grand chamber- lain, but he turned away his face. A priest stepped toward him and said : "The people, your majesty, are weeping because you are soon to leave them." "Am I dying ? " "You are in grievous danger of death, and should think of your departing soul." "And my people love me so that they weep because I am to leave them ? " he demanded, eagerly. " Sire, they would gladly die for you, they love you so," an- swered the priest. Then such a beautiful look as no one there had ever seen over- spread the face of the dying king. He reached out his hand, rang the bell, and with its sweet and silver clangor sounding, and the consolations of Holy Church filling his soul, he passed to the rest of paradise. CHARITY. R. W. LANIGAN. Once in a race I stood well front, And I saw the prize was mine that day, When a wanderer bade me stop and tell Of two roads which was the better way. I gazed on his face ; it was wan and worn, 'Twould have pained my heart to say him nay. I stopped and guided him on his path, And he blessed me as he turned away. My race was lost and my rival won, But my heart felt better for what I'd done. AND RECITATIONS. 61 TALE OF THE TERRIBLE FIRE. T WILL tell you the tale of the terrible fire ; -*- It springs from the earth — it is dreadful and dire. In the dark Wintry sky, See the spark Upward fly ! See it grow In its frame—' See it glow Into flame ! See it burning and blazing; See it spring into life With a vigor amazing — How it longs for the strife ! Hear the noise and the rattle ; How it swells, how it grows! Like the crash of a battle, Like the clash of the foes ! See it rushing and rising and roaring, See it trying to touch a tall star; It seems in the sky to be soaring Like a flag of fierce flame from afar. See it turning and burning and braving, See it streaming and gleaming and red ! Ah ! the smoke in the air is now waving Like a winding-sheet of dull lead. Hear it laugh with wild glee at each futile endeavor To quench or to quell its exuberant force ; It is flaming and free and fantastic forever; 6 2 WERNER'S READINGS It delights and exults with no pang of remorse. With no pain, with but passion, mad passion, it quivers, With its pennon of scarlet the bloodiest hue ; With its bright gleaming streams and its roaring of 'rivers, It dares to do all things that flame dares to do. How it darts, how it dances and dashes, As though it had taken for aim, To reduce all the world into ashes And to fling all the stars into flame ! It is glittering and glowing and glaring— And raging it rings its own knell; It is showing its wonderful daring — It is turning the sky into hell. How it lazily lingers With its swell and its fall ; With its fiery fingers Wierdly waving a pall ; With its horrible hisses Like the wind in a storm ; With its blistering kisses, On face and on form ! Of its flashes Bereft, Only ashes Are left. Till its cries Tell its doom — And it dies In the gloom. I have told you the tale of the terrible fire; It has sung its last song to its luminous lyre; It has sung its last song, it has breathed its last breath, It has lived without life, it has died without death. AND RECITATIONS. 63 SOMETHING GREAT. F. TYLER. rpHE trial was ended, the vigil was past, -*- All clad in his arms was the knight at last ; The goodliest knight in the whole wide land, "With a face that shone with a purpose grand. The king looked on him with gracious eyes And said : " He is meet for some high emprise." To himself he thought: "I will conquer fate; I will surely die, or do something great." So from the palace he rode away. There was trouble and need in the town that day; A child had strayed from its mother's side Into the woodland dark and wide. " Help ! " cried the mother, with sorrow wild ; "Help me, Sir Knight, to seek my child, The hungry wolves in the forest roam — Help me to bring my lost one home!" He shook her hand from his bridle rein : "Alas ! poor mother, you ask in vain; Some meaner succor may do maybe, Some squire or varlet of low degree. There are mighty wrongs in the world to . right ; I keep my sword for a noble fight. I am sad at heart for your baby's fate, But I ride in haste to do something great." One wintry night, when the sun had set, A blind old man by the way he met. " Now, good Sir Knight, for our Lady's sake, On the sightless wanderer pity take. The wind blows cold and the sun is down ; 64 WERNER 'S READ1JS GS Lead me, I pray, till I reach the town." "Nay!" said the knight, "I cannot wait, I ride in haste to do something great." So on he rode in his armor bright, His sword all keen for the longed-for fight. "Laugh with us, laugh," cried the merry crowd. " Oh, weep !" wailed others, with sorrow bowed. "Help us! "the weak and weary prayed, But for joy, nor grief, nor need, he stayed. And the years rolled on, and his eyes grew dim, And he died, and none made moan for him. He missed the good that he might have done ; He missed the blessings he might have won, Seeking some glorious task to find, His eyes to all humble work were blind. He that is faithful in that which is least, Is bidden to sit at the heavenly feast ; Yet men and women lament their fate, If they be not called to do something great. A BOY'S COMPOSITION ON BREATHING. "We breathe with our lungs, our lights, our kidneys and livers. If it wasn't for our breath we would die when we si Our breath keeps the life agoing through the nose when we asleep. ' "Boys who stay in a room all day should not breathe, should wait until they got out in the fresh air. Boys in a r make bad air called carbonicide. Carbonicide is as poisor mad dogs. A lot of soldiers were once in a black hole in Calc and carbonicide got in there and killed them. " Girls sometimes ruin the breath with corsets that squeeze diagram. A big diagram is the best for the right kino breathing." AND RECITATIONS, C5 'HE FUNERAL OF THE MOUNTAINS. PEED EMERSOJST BROOKS. "jV/TOUKN, great McGregor, mourn ! Thou youngest of JJLL rpjjg mountains newly born ; bow down thy head And weep into the valley rivulets Of tears. Draw round thee close thy sombre, dark And heavy robe of pines. It is thy cloak Of mourning and thy crape ; thou hast most need To mourn, being most blessed. But yesterday Thou wert unknown and insignificant ; To-day thou art immortal made, because Thou art the death-bed of our beloved Grant ; Bocause the nation's hero made of thee A stepping-stone to heaven. Thou art become The country's shrine, where weeping Liberty Hath come to shed her tears. Around thy base Is marshalled that innumerable host Of soldiers slain in Freedom's cause, and with Them is the silent throng in gray — with heads Uncovered all, beneath one flag that droops Fresh wet with heaven's tears, the dew. Those coats Which once were blue have faded into gray ; Grave ashes bring one color to them all. With guns all stacked within the silent wood : They stretch their phantom tents in bivouac weird— A spectre guard — Grand Army of the Dead ! Thy cooling breeze hath kissed his fevered cheek These long, long waiting hours how gratefully; Thy sentry pines swayed with the fleeting pulse CG WERNER'S READINGS And whispered undisturbingly, "All's well !" When all was o'er their wailing message went Along the clouds, that fleecy telephone, To Lookout Mount, whose rusty cannon's boom Seemed like the tolling clock of destiny, Slow striking, Sixty-three. For such an one No common sepulture ! Be thou his bier, His catafalque ! Let battle mountains make His funeral train ! Call Lookout from the clouds, With Mission Ridge, Ball's Bluff, and Malvern Hill, South Mountain, Champion Hill, great Cumberland, Pea Ridge, and those that shut in Gettysburg ; With Rural Hill and Drury's Bluff, the Heights Of Maryland, and Harper's Ferry walls ; With those that frown on Shenandoah's plain ; Each hill where war hath ploughed great furrows up, Each slope with human abatis of slain, Each mound where fiery battle steeds have pranced, Impatient of the smoke. E'en that small knoll At Appomatox, where Rebellion gave Its sabre up and Slavery made her tomb ; Let Heaven, muffling up her thunder drum, Sound reveille to summon all to this Great funeral. In military line Procession make, with solemn obsequies, While ocean waves on either shore in great Sabaoth " Triste Vale" chant. With pick And spade think not to make thy hero's bed ! In Donelson's firm walls impregnable His mausoleum make — fit catacomb — And, soldier-like, wrapped in his country's flag, There let him hold the fort forevermore. Take shattered cannon from the battlefield Well molten in hot Sumter's crucible, AND RECITATIONS. 67 And cast a monument overtopping that Of " Liberty Enlightening the World/' And on its base inscribe with sabre point : " Our hero dead, who never battle lost, To heaven surrendered unconditional." WHY THE ROBIN'S BREAST IS RED. JAMES R. RANDALL. rpHE Saviour, bowed beneath His cross, -*- Climbed up the dreary hill, And from the agonizing wreath Ean many a crimson rill ; The cruel Roman thrust Him on With unrelenting hand — Till, staggering slowly 'mid the crowd, He fell upon the sand. A little bird that warbled near, That memorable da} r , Flitted around and strove to wrench One single thorn away ; The cruel spike impaled his breast And thus, 'tis sweetly said, The Robin has his silver vest Incarnadined with red. Ah, Jesu ! Jesu ! Son of man ! My dolor and my sighs Reveal the lesson taught by this Winged Ishmael of the skies. I, in the palace of delight, Or cavern of despair, Have plucked no thorns from Thy dear brow But planted thousands there. ■■y- 68 WERNER'S READINGS * A CASUALTY. - (J rpHE morning papers contained among their casualties the : -*- lowing paragraph : " Run over. — Yesterday afternoon unknown bootblack, aged about eight, was run over at the cor of Blank street. St. Vincent's Hospital." Only one short, sharp cry, followed by the hoarse shouts several men, that was all. Theg^arried him to the sidewalk, i as the crowd gathered around him, some one coming by stopj and asked, "What is it?" " Only another bootblack hurt/ the careless response, and the questioner passed on. The ami lance came. The crowd made way, then separated, and the ir dent was forgotten. Nobody knew him, nobody cared. The hospital slept, all but the sister who kept her vigil bes one little cot, rising at intervals to scan the pale face that lay the pillow. No sound but the breathing of the patients and 1 monotonous tick-tick of the great clock broke the stillness. Presently there was a movement ; the little white face turai its eyes toward the watcher, and a feeble voice asked : " Say, where be I ? " ' ' You are in a good place, child It was still again for a moment, and then, — " Say, missus, where's my box ? " " I don't know. I expect it was lost." " Lost ? Oh, yes, now I know. I was runned over, wasn't I " Yes. What is your name ? " " Tommy." "Tommy what ?" " Jest Tommy." " But you must have another name." " No'm, I aint." " Well, what is your mother's name ?" "I aint got no mother, I had one oncet, but she's dead." The kind face bent down to kiss him, and he murmured, — AND RECITATIONS. 69 I She used to do that. Say, Fd like to see her agin." "Well, perhaps you will. But there, don't talk any more." A short silence followed, but presently he inquired,— "Kin she come back ?" 'My mother." i "No, she can't do that, but maybe you will be able to go to her." " When ? " "Pretty soon." He dozed again, and the hands of the great clock dragged them- jves wearily on. In his sleep he was again with his mates. Now 1 1 was calling, "Shine ! " now he was counting his money, laugh- ijwith his comrades, and eagerly plying his trade. The hands the clock had barely passed the hour of two when he again awoke. "Missus." "Yes, dear." " Won't yer kiss me agin ? It seems as though my mother was jse to me when you do that." She kissed him, and he dropped off to sleep, but not for long. le minute-hand had not reached the half hour when he woke th a cry and start. "Say, what makes me feel so queer ?* I feel," and the words me with more difficulty, " as— though— somethin'— heavy— was tin' — on — me." The lights were turned up, and willing hands raised the little rm from the pillow. Brighter grew the eyes, as they seemed to f ze at something toward which the little yearning arms were out- etched. Fainter and fainter came the breath, feebler and feebler ew the voice. " You — was — right, — missus." They raised him higher, and he whispered, — << You — was — right. I kin — I kin go." "Where, dear?" « You — said — I could, — and — I kin — go — to " The little outstretched arms fell, and that last loving word was token on the other side of the great river. 70 WERNER'S READINGS THE PALMER'S VISION JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. "VTOON o'er Judea ! 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 and distressed ; His sinking heart grown faithless of its guerdon — The city of its recompense and rest. No vision yet of Galilee and Tabor ! No glimpse of distant Zion thronged and crowned ! Behind him lay his long and useless labor. Before him stretched the parched and stony ground He leaned against a shrine of Mary, casting Its balm of shaMow on his aching head, And, worn with toil and faint with cruel fasting, He sighed, " God ! God, that I were dead ! " The friends I loved are lost or left behind me ; In penury and loneliness I roam ; These endless paths of penance choke and blind me ; come and take the wasted pilgrim home ! " 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 AND RECITATIONS. 71 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. " 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 life renewed, He spurned the faithless weakness that had bound him, And, faring on, his pilgrimage pursued. The way was long, 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. fainting soul that readest well my story, Longing through pain for death's benignant calm, Think not to win a heaven of rest and glory, If thou shalt reach its gates without thy palm. 72 WERNER'S READINGS THE THREE MISSIONS. MORNING STAR, EVENING STAR, AND MOONLIGHT. MES. LOULA KENDALL ROGEES. [This recitation is personated by three young girls in appropriate costume. The Morning Star is arrayed in pink fleecy gauze, with a large, bright silver star on a black velvet girdle, and smaller stars on front width of dress. The Evening Star is robed in sky-blue, with velvet girdle also containing a bright star. Moonlight is robed in deep black, spangled all over with stars, while on the girdle is a full round moon, made of silver paper. She enters last and takes her place between the two Stars, all standing under a wooden arch on which is inscribed in glittering letters "Gloria in Excelsis."] I [MoeKing Stae enters from the Hast.'] AM the radiant Morning Star ! 'Tis mine to illumine the crimson bar That separates night from beautiful day, And awaken earth with my sparkling ray. I give to each mountain, hill, and plain, A crest of varying crimson hue ; I sweep away darkness in my train, And bring to light the sparkling dew. Oh, the East is blest when my silvery crest 1 Is set in its purple shade, And all earth should rise in glad surprise When my early call is made. The student hails my dawning light And, as my glories shine, He hies him o'er the mountain height To Learning's gilded shrine. To the suffering, and the meek and bowed, I bring a cheering ray; And all my sister spirits fair Bless me at dawn of day. Yet, best of all, my light gleamed o'er The King at Bethlehem, AND RECITA TIONS. 73 And joined the glad triumphant shout "Peace! Peace! Good- will to men!" [Evening Star, enters from the West, leaving space in centre for Moonlight.] I am the pensive Evening Star ! O'er earth I wield a magic power The convents chant to me a lay At twilight's welcome vesper hour. I give to each mountain, hill, and vale A chastened hue, when lingering still In sunset's radiant golden gleam, And every heart with peace I fill. Oh, the "West is blest when my diamond crest On her sapphire brow is laid, And the nightingale from hill and dale, Trills forth her soft roulade. The laborer hails my gentle ray And follows me afar ; His daily toil is all forgot When shines the Evening Star. To the weary over all the earth I softly whisper "Rest!" And give them one sweet, hopeful dream Of the land forever blest. But, best of all, I list to the prayer Breathed at a mother's knee, And bear it swift through the ether blue To Him who died for thee. [Moonlight enters from centre of stage, hearing a gilded sceptre. ] My placid light, Star of Eve, Eclipses thine ! 'Tis mine to weave A silvery spell o'er Nature's brow, And accept your homage rendered now, 74 WERNER 'S READINGS I wear a royal diadem. Ye only gleam In light subdued, and paler seem In contrast with my imperial sway That rivals even golden Day. In cloudless majesty alone I sit upon my ebon throne All veiled in darkness. Yet the world, When my silvery pinions are unfurled, Shall worship in the silent night The Prince of Peace, the Source of Light. [Morning Star crowns her and kneeling, says:] We crown thee, sister, Queen of Night ! Most royally thy sceptre sway ! Our radiance fades beneath the light That sparkles o'er thy beauteous way. [Evening Star kneeling:] All that the poet e'er has dreamed Of purity, of faith, and love, Are realized, fair Queen, in thee : Thou breathest of the peace above ! [Moonlight, extending her hands :] Eise, sisters, rise. Kneel not to me ; I rule not earth, nor sky, nor sea ; My glory comes from God the King — Then let us all His praises sing. [The three clasp hands and recite in concert:] And now in unison we shine To worship all that is divine ; All honor, glory, praise to Thee Whose hand hath made the Mystic Three. [While light is thrown on tableau at flie close, each points upward and sings the " Gloria in Excelsis."] AND RECITATION'S. 75 (Sol-Fa. ) Intonation. CTiorus. Glo ri - a in ex - eel - sis De 1 f— Et in ter - ra pax vo-lun-ta- tis. Lau - da - ^ - mus-te. ci - mus - te, Ad - o - ra - mus-te. Glo - ri - fl - ca- mus-teT"~^.. Gra - ti - as a - gimus ti - - - bi propter ma gnam g^=T= =q=3= =1 =|__j 1- =s>=fc glo - ri-am tu - am. Do ^^^fc^tf^^^ 3 -3=H-,s — --=1— J?5s>-£>-F&^^-— zafrfczzzfcn: , — I Fi - li - us Pa - tris. Qui to/ - lis pec - ca - ta mun-di, mi - se re ==t r^zz^r — i 5-fl-^— = — &>— g— ez-' s '-S=^=^=F2=-=r : _z^zzrzE re no - bis. Qui tol - lis pec - ca - ta mun-di, sus - ci-pe de-pre-ca- ti- *a^=S==3=3a= 3=zq: izrizzrrtzzrzrzdrrrjrrz t!=SC=3 - o - nem nos - tram. Qui se - - - des ad de xteram Pa tris, srzzzzg: t====r=f=i =^=5313 mi - se - re - ~ I 1 IzrS=^Sfer=z: re no - bis. Quo - ni-am tu so : ^^ F ==e=?^F=g=e= lus sanctus. ^^^^^^^^^S^^SS^ t= h=i — r E==i= Tu so - lus Do - minus. Tu so - lus. Al - tis - simus, Je - - su ri - tu in gio - rl- ste Cum san - - cto Spi Chri — t— i— De - i Pa - ^- tris. — (gr-^J — ■6^- - ==sr^zsrrgzrft 76 WERNER'S READINGS A LEGEND OF THE MISSIONS. LEE C. HAEBY. TTEBE the San Antonio river -* — *- Swiftly courses on forever ; Here the mocking-bird's sweet singing Sets the mesquite copses ringing ; v Here December's sunshine golden Falls upon the mission olden, Penetrating dim recesses, Lighting with its warm caresses Alta r where no priest is praying ; But the lizard brown is straying In and out of crack and jointing, While the cross, whose first anointing Was in tears and bitter sorrow, From the sunbeams seems to borrow Something more than earthly glory. Who can tell the thrilling story Of the mission's slow uprearing ? Of privation, toil and fearing Borne by these Franciscan friars — Abnegation of desires, Sacrifice of every pleasure, Spending all of life's best treasure, For the glory of their calling ? Now the dust of time is falling O'er their graves unknown and lowly. In the mission's confines holy All the year in silence sleeping ; But when night is slowly creeping To the birth of Christmas morning, As the stroke of twelve gives warning, AND RECITATIONS. 77 They, from every tomb appearing, Still their priestly vestments wearing, Bound the altar reverent gather. Then it is some ghostly father Gliding to the ruined tower At this solemn midnight hour, Sets the rusty bell a-swinging And the music of its ringing Sounds into the ears of dead men, Calling from their graves the red men. Thence they come in noiseless trooping, In the chancel thickly grouping, Indian warrior, wife and maiden. Soon the air is heavy laden With the smoke from censers swinging, While the priests are slowly bringing Forth the symbol of their Master. Peals the bell now louder, faster, From the ancient mission's tower ; Many voices rise and lower In an anthem grandly swelling Faith of priest and convert telling; Held on high the Host is glowing, All its golden glory showing By the lights which gleam and falter On the quaint and carven altar, While the clouds of incense quiver Stirred by breezes from the river. Once again the bell's slow pealing Sounds above the people kneeling Penitent, their sins confessing, Bowed beneath the Father's blessing ! Fades the brilliance from the mission, And a subtle, strange transition Passes o'er the people praying — 78 WERNER'S READINGS "lis a change like to the swaying Of the mist clouds o'er the ocean ; For, with neither sound nor motion, Every form fades into spirit, Back to all they may inherit, Silent grave and restful sleeping ! And the gray dawn comes a-creeping, While the ghostly bell is sighing; Wierdly wail its last notes, dying — Not an echo even waking — For the Christmas morn is breaking! WILLIAM TELL AND HIS SON. MAKTHA J. NOTT. a A ND have these rebels dared complain, and murmur to th ■J-*- king ? Swift retribution on their heads their foolish deed shall bring. Perchance they thought by some strange fate their freedom th to gain, Freedom, which ever must be bought with woes and bitter pain. Subjection they shall doubly feel, and, to their bitter cost, Learn how completely liberty for aye to them is lost. Place high my hat upon a pole, and to each rebel say : ' These are your governor's orders which you hear, and must ob( Whene'er you pass before this cap, see that your head you bare, j For 'tis his representative which he has mounted there/''' So spake the Tyrant Gesler, and, obedient to his word, His servants sallied forth to do the bidding of their lord. The imperious mandate then is given, and, high upon the breez Their hated despot's emblem soon each gallant Switzer sees. Each heart with indignation swells, but ah ! too well they kno 1 AND RECITATIONS. 79 That to defy their tyrant now will only work them woe. But one brave Switzer stands apart, with bold and haughty mien, Determination flashing from his eyes and features seen. " Comrades/' he cries, " too long this king, with hard and cruel hand, Has stretched oppression far and wide o'er all our native land. If still my country is not free, I will be free indeed, Nor of this symbol, when I pass, will take the slightest heed ; I will not bow to any one, much less to this vain man ; Now let him do to William Tell the worst that e'en he can." At length the news to Gesler came that one brave Swiss had dared To treat his orders with contempt, and also had declared He feared not aught the king could do ; and, full of angry wrath, He orders this presumptuous Swiss to be to him brought forth. "And is this true I hear, rash Swiss? and hast thou dared, indeed, To brave my anger, and to take of my commands no heed ? Dost thou not know I am thy king ? and wherefore hast thou striven Eebelliously against the word that I, thy lord, have given ?" "Yea, it is true I have refused thy bidding e'er to do, For I would scorn to speak to thee words aught than those are true ; And, tyrant ! do the worst thou canst, but ne'er shall it be said That William Tell to Gesler's hat did ever bare his head." "And darest thou speak thus to me ?" in anger Gesler cries ; "Thy haughty words are bolder far than e'er thy conduct's wise. Dost thou, indeed, fear naught that I can ever do to thee ? I'll prove the worth of thy vain boast, I'll see how true it be. Ho, vassals ! bring this rebel's son before me with all speed ; I'll test his courage and his skill by a most worthy deed." Calm and serene, to outward view, the patriot appears, But, ah ! what anguish fills his heart, what awful, nameless fears, For, looking on the tyrant's face, and then upon his son, He dreads the child will suffer now for deeds the father's done ! 80 WERNER'S READINGS But soon the silence Gesler breaks. In tones of scornful pride, "Proud Swiss!" he cries, "Til prove thee now. O'er all the country wide They say unrivalled is thy skill as archer, far and near ; Now shalt thou show thy far-famed power to us assembled here. Upon the head of this thy son an apple I will place, And if thou cleav'st it right in two, I will accord thee grace ; But failing this to do, thy life the penalty shalt be. Now of thy famed dexterity an instance let us see." With quivering hand Tell grasps his bow, but all in vain essays To take his aim, for powerless he seems his arms to raise. The child, who with love's instinct quick divines his father's grief, "With faith implicit in his skill, seeks to bring him relief. " Shoot quickly, father dear," he cries, " I know you never miss Your aim ; so wherefore hesitate, and fear to strike at this ? " Encouraged by his simple faith, his bow at length Tell draws ; One brief and fervent prayer for help, one silent, breathless pause, Then through the air the arrow flies ; the apple, cleft in two, Falls to the ground, while all unhurt the child stands in their view. Amazed, the tyrant then exclaims, " I see that it is true, . Of skilful archers like to thee there surely can be few. But wherefore hast thou yet another arrow in thy belt ? Thy son would not have needed two had he the first one felt." With haughty mien and flashing eye then speaks the gallant Swiss: " 'Tis well for thee, tyrant ! that I have not needed this. Think not that if with my own hand I had laid low my son, That thou, the cause of all my woe, wouldst still unhurt have gone ! No ; by my faith, if I had killed my child, this arrow then Had pierced thy heart, and slain one of the cruellest of men." AND RECITATIONS. 81 BECALMED AT SEA. SAMUEL K. COWAN. TT was as calm as calm could be, -*- A death still night in June ; A silver sail on a silver sea Under a silver moon. Not the least air the still sea stirred, But all on the dreaming deep The white ship lay, like a white sea-bird, With folded wings, asleep. For a long, long month not a breath of air For a month not a drop of rain ; And the gaunt crew watched in wild despair, With a fever in throat and brain. And they saw the shore like a dim cloud stand On the far horizon sea ; It was only a day's short sail to the land And the haven where they would be. Too faint to row — no signal brought An answer from far or nigh : " Father have mercy ; leave us not Alone on the deep to die ! " And the gaunt crew prayed on the deck above, And the women prayed below : " One drop of rain for God's great love ! God ! for a breeze to blow ! " But never a shower from the skies would burst, And never a breeze would come ; 83 WERNER'S READINGS heaven ! to think that man can thirst And starve in sight of home. But out to sea with the drifting tide, The vessel drifted away ; Till the far-off shore like a dim cloud, died, And the wild crew ceased to pray. Like fiends they glared, with their eyes aglow. Like beasts with hunger wild • But a mother knelt in the cabin below, By the bed of her little child. It slept, and lo ! in its sleep it smiled, A babe of summers three. ' ' Oh, Father ! save my little child, Whatever comes to me ! " Calm gleamed the sea, calm gleamed the sky, No cloud, no sail in view ; And they cast them lots for who should die To feed the starving crew. Like beasts they glared with hunger wild, And their red, glazed eyes aglow ; And the death lot fell on the little child That slept in the cabin below. And the mother shrieked in wild despair : " God ! my child, my son ! They will take his life ! It is hard to bear, Yet, Father, Thy will be done ! " And she waked her child from its happy sleep, And she kneeled by the cradle bed : " We thirst, my child, on the lonely deep ; We are dying, my child, for bread. AND RECITATIONS. 83 " On the lone, lone sea, no sail, no breeze, Not a drop of rain in the sky. "We thirst — we starve — on the lonely seas, And thou, my child, must die ! " "Father," he lisped, "so good, so kind, Have pity on mother's pain ; For mother's sake, a little wind, Father, a little rain ! " And she heard them shout for the child from the deck, And she knelt on the cabin stairs : "The child! the child!" they cry. "Stand back! And away with your senseless prayers." Aha ! It was a ghastly sight ! Red eyes like flaming brands, And a hundred belt-knives flashing bright In the clutch of skeleton hands. " Strike me, strike me, ye fiends of death!" But soft through the ghastly air Whose falling tear was that ? Whose breath Waves through the mother's hair ? " A flutter of sail — a ripple of seas — A speck on the cabin pane ; joy ! a breeze it is, a breeze, And a drop of blessed rain ! And the mother rushed to the cabin below, And she wept on the babe's bright hair : " The sweet rain falls ! The sweet winds blow ! Our Father has heard thy prayer ! " But the child had fallen asleep again ; And lo ! in its sleep it smiled : "Thank God !" she cried, "for His wind and His rain — Thank God for my little child !" 84 WERNER'S READINGS THE DRUMMER-BOY OF KENT. A STOEY FROM THE TRENCH WARS. HTpOTJB hundred years and more ago, -*- It matters not to you, A slender boy with golden hair And eyes of melting blue, While whistling down an English lane, A sunny lane of Kent, Heard word of war and beat of drum, And with the drummers went ; And with the drummers drummed the way That led the last advance The boy-king Henry's soldiers made Upon the heart of France. He, dreaming, wandered far from camp, Where songs of birds were blent With notes as sweet he whistled out — That Drummer-Boy of Kent. A-sudden, through his home-dream, rang A sentry's challenge cry To halt, to yield him captive up To Charles of France, or die. And thence they led him back to camp, To their great captain's tent; Yet bravely beat the heart in him As with the foe he went; As in the captain's tent he stood, Where shone, 'bove gleam of lance, AND RECITATIONS. 85 A great white banner on which bloomed The fleur-de-lis of France. And there beneath the battle flag The gallant captain stood, And questioned him ; and he replied As brave young Briton should: " A drummer-boy — an English boy, Of Kent, I am/' he said. The man was moved by his true tone, The proud toss of his head. Yet, doubting, bid a drum be brought, And bid the boy to beat : "A martial march — a march," he said, "To stir the soldiers' feet." Then drummed the Drummer-Boy of Kent, Till " Stop \" the captain said ; "A march drummed out like that should stir The feet of soldiers dead." But pride of France burned in his heart ; "Forsooth," he cried, e "i were meet No English aoy should beat advance — So, boy, now beat retreat ! " Then from those eyes of melting bine Flashed out a sapphire light ; The drumsticks and the drum he dropped, Drew up his slender height. "Retreat, retreat ! Oh, sir," he cried, " My drum knows no retreat 1 And I woulu die ere i would lead The way for backward feet ! " Alone, unarmed, he stood — yet armed And winged as heroes are ; 86 WERNER'S READINGS While all the valiant men-at-arms Broke out in loud huzza. And won, as never won by arms, The great French captain cried : "No braver heart in soldier beats On French or English side." And to his soldiers gave command, "Set that young eagle free! (And would were his the flag where blooms The heavenly fleur-de-lis !)" So, led by cheering men at arms, He left the captain's tent, And crossed the lines, and went his way — Brave Drummer-Boy of Kent. THE WAY. WILLIAM STEELE SHURTLEFF. THIRST, find out Truth, and then -*- Although she strays From beaten paths of men, To untrod ways, Her leading follow straight, And bide thy fate ! And whether smiles or scorn Thy passing greet, Or find'st thou flower or thorn Beneath thy feet Fare on ! nor fear thy fate At Heaven's gate. AND RECITATIONS. 87 TELEMACHUS. G. M. SHELDOX. [The year 404 A. D. is famous as the accredited epoch of the abolition of 3 gladiatorial shows at Rome. Honorius, Hie Emperor, held u jubilee in the y to celebrate the defeat of Alaric. During the gladiatorial contest, which med a part of the jubilee, a monk named Telemachus rushed into the arena d, in the name of Christ, threw himself between the combatants. He was t to pieces on the instant; but the people were smitten with compunction. le games were immediately suspended, and a stringent decree issued pro- biting their revival.] rpELEMAOHTJS, the monk, sat in his cell, -*- Fixed in deep thought he sat in silence there; But as the shades of night around him fell, He knelt upon the ground in humble prayer. " Give me a heart, Lord, to do Thy will, A heart submissive to Thy chastening rod; Into my life Thy loving grace instil — Help me to feel that Thou alone art God. " Hasten the time when all shall own Thy sway; The groaning captive from his chains release. Hasten the time when wars shall pass away, And all the earth enjoy perpetual peace." Thus, in his cell, the monk, in earnest prayer, Passed the long night communing with his Lord; "While o'er the silent city slumbering there The Roman sentinel kept watch and ward. Day breaks upon the city's cold gray wall, Brightening each temple, pinnacle, and shrine; On the statues there the sunbeams fall, Touching the marble gods with light divine. 88 WERNER'S READINGS This day the emperor his triumph keeps, Presiding at the games in regal state; Bound the echoing walls the welcome sweeps: " Long live Honorius, the wise and great ! " Then forth with stately tread, a warlike band Of gladiators fill the open space; In quiet sternness on the sand In two opposing ranks they take their place, And, at a given signal, on they sweep, Eushing like angry beasts upon their prey; Their swords are stained from gashes wide and deep, The sand is torn and bloody with the fray. When suddenly there leaps upon the sand, Between the combatants, a figure tall; His face so pale, so winning, yet so grand, That awe and silence on the people fall. " What men are ye who spurn the law of God Which bids us live as brothers all in love? Who find delight in violence and blood, Forbidden by the Christ in heaven above? " In Christ's own name, I bid this carnage cease ! In Christ's own name, the name we breathe in praye Yea, I, Telemachus, the monk of peace, Command ye all as brothers to forbear ! " But on the fickle, maddened Roman crowd The monk's words held but momentary sway, And then the cry grew fiercer and more loud: " Down with the monk ! Away with him ! Away The cruel gladiators with their swords To pierce the heart of that brave preacher flew; And as he fell in death, he gasped the words : ''Forgive, dear Lord, they know not what they do !! AND RECITATIONS, 89 So died Telemachus, the monk of old; But with him died the gladiatorial shows, All honor to that spirit, grand and bold, Whose martyred soul then found in God repose. THE VESPER BELL. EUGENE DAVIS. QIWEET the chime of vesper bell, ^ Borne on the balmy breeze, From the convent in the dell. Heaven breathes in ev'ry swell Softly o'er the smiling leas — Sweet the chime of vesper bell. Glows my heart beneath the spell Of these saintly melodies From the convent in the dell. Now each dark thought tolls its knell In repentant agonies — Sweet the chime of vesper bell. And a joy no voice can tell Eipples through the list'ning trees From the convent in the dell. Wreathing from a heavenly shell Soulful, dreamful symphonies, Sweet the chime of vesper bell From the convent in the dell. 90 WERNER'S READINGS THE LADY HILDEGARDE. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. /^\H, happy is he that giveth ^-^ Of his gifts unto the poor ; For the smile of the blessed Christ is his, And his reward is sure. 'Twas at the bleak of winter, And a drought lay on the land ; And bread was scarce, and cries of want Were heard on every hand — When a beggar roamed through the village, Meanly but cleanly clad ; Her back was bent 'neath the burden of age, And her face was pale and sad. " Give me of your bread, kind stranger, Give me of your bread," cried she ; "That I'm hungry and cold, and ragged, and old* You all must plainly see." With many a look of anger, They drove her from the door; Or if food they gave, 'twas a mouldy crust, Or a bone, and nothing more. At last at a little cottage, One humbler than any there, Where a poor old man and his feeble wife Dwelt long with want and care, She paused — that wretched wanderer — And asked awhile to rest On the steps. But the man with a kindly smile, Urged in his ragged guest, AND RECITATIONS. 91 And gave her a seat at the fireside; While his good wife in a trice, From the fresh baked loaf of barley bread, Cut off an ample slice ; And this with a cup of water, They set before their guest. 'Twas all they had, they smiling said, But the food upon her pressed. " May the good Lord ne'er forgive us, Nor e'er bestow us more, If ever the hungry we turn away Unfed from our humble door ; The little we have to offer Is God's, not ours — eat, pray." And the beggar ate of the barley bread, And, thankful, went her way. Hildegarde, the lady, who lived At the castle stately and grand, Invited the villagers to a feast To be given by her hand ; And, smiling, they went to the castle, And, smiling, they entered the hall, Where a chair was set for everyone, And plates were laid for all. Said Hildegarde, smiling sweetly, " Come, friends, sit up and eat ; " And they gathered round that ample board, With glad and willing feet ; Then their eyes oped wide with wonder, For they saw — -oh, sore dismayed ! a mouldy cake, or a mouldier crust, Beside each platter laid. 92 WERNER'S READINGS With scraps of cold potatoes Which the swine would scarcely eat, And tainted fish, and rinds of cheese, And broken bits of meat ; While up in the place of honor, A table was set for two, •Groaning beneath its weight of food, And dainties both sweet and new. Then spoke the noble Hildegarde, And sternly thus she said : " I was the beggar that roamed your streets Yestreen and asked for bread. I did it to test you, people, So anxious was I to know How kind ye were to the hungry and poor, Amid this season of woe. f And these were what you gave me, As ye spurned me from your door ; These cold vile scraps and these mouldy crusts,, But these and nothing more ; Not one in this whole large village, Save him with yon hoary head, And his dear old wife, that asked me in, And gave me of their bread. " For them is yon table waiting, With richest viands stored ; Go, sit ye down, dear servants of Christ, And feast ye at my board ; And want shall be thine no longer, For a home I've given to thee, Where every comfort of life shall be thine, Till life shall cease to be; AND RECITATIONS. 93 " And ye go home, ye people, Each with your mouldy crust, And bow your heads with very shame, Ay, even to the dust. And back to my noble castle, Come ye never again, Till ye learn with what measure ye mete, it shall Be measured to you again." Oh, happy is he that giveth Of his gifts unto the poor ; For the smile of the blessed Christ is his, And his reward is sure. THE VIRGIN WITH THE BELLS. AUSTIN DOBSON. f I THERE stood a church that men would praise -*- At Florence, so the legend tells, For works of price ; but chief for one They called the Virgin with the Bells. Gracious she was, and fealty done. With crown of gold about the hair, And robe of blue with stars thereon, And sceptre in her hand did bear. And o'er her, in an almond tree, Three little golden bells there were, Writ with Faith, Hope and Charity. None knew from whence she came of old, Nor whose the sculptor's name should be, Or great or small. But this they told : That once from out the blaze of square, And bickering folk that bought and sold, 94 WERNER'S READINGS Came to the church an Urnbrian, Lord of much gold and champaign fair, But, for all this, a hard, haught man ; To whom the priests, in humbleness, At once to beg for alms began, Praying him grant of his excess Such as for poor men's bread might pay, Or give their saint a gala-dress. Thereat he sternly answered : "Nay, Most Eev'rend ! ere the least carline Ye win, this summer sky shall snow ; Or, likelier still, your dolPs-eyed queen Shall ring her bells — but not of craft." And so across the porphyry floor, His hand upon his dagger-haft, Strode, and of these was seen no more. Nor, of a truth, much marveled they At those his words, since gear and store Oft dower shrunk souls. But on a day, While yet again throughout the square The buyers, in their noisy way, Chaffered about the basketware, It chanced that when the priest would kneel Before the taper's flickering flame — ■ Sudden a little tremulous peal From out the Virgin's altar came. And they that heard must fain recall The Urnbrian, and the words of shame Spoke in his pride. And therewithal Came news how, at that very date And hour of time, was fixed his fall, Who, of the duke, was banned the state, And all his goods, and lands as well, To Holy Church were confiscate. Such is the tale the Frati tell. AND RECITATIONS. 95 SAINT PATRICK AND THE IMPOSTOR AUBKEY DE VERB. [Mac Kyle, a child of death, dwells in a forest with other men, that slay whom they will. Saint Patrick coming to that wood, a certain impostor de- rises how he may be deceived and killed ; but God smites the impostor •■hrough his own snare, and he dies. Mac Kyle believes and is baptized. Afterward he preaches in Manann Isle (Isle of Man) and becomes a saint.] TN" TJladh,* near Magh Inis, lived a chief, m Fierce man and fell. From orphaned childhood he Through lawless youth to blood-stained middle age Had rushed as stormy morn to stormier noon. Thus spake he to his followers : " At last he comes, He that deceives the people with great signs, ind for the tinkling of a little gold Preaches new gods. Forth with your swords, and if Chat God he serves can save him, let him prove ! " Dark with wrath Thus spake Mac Kyle ; and all his men approved, ?h ve Garban. Crafty he, and full of lies, That thing which Patrick hated. Sideway first rlancing, as if some secret foe were nigh, le spake : ' * Mac Kyle ! a counsel for thine ear ! The people love this stranger. Patrick slain, Their wrath will blaze against us, and demand Vn eric for his head. Let us by craft Jnravel first his craft ; then safe our choice, faithless to slay him, or great ransom take, — mpostors lack not gold. Lay me as dead Jpon a bier ; above me spread yon cloth, md make your wail ; and when the seer draws nigh ♦Ulster. &6 WERNER'S READINGS Worship him, crying, ' Lo, our friend is dead ! Ilneel, prophet, kneel, and pray the God thou serv'st To raise him/. If he kneels, ho prophet he. Bat like the race of mortals. Sweep the cloth Straight from my face; and, laughing, I will rise." Thus counselled Garban ; and the counsel pleased; Yet pleased not God. Upon a bier, branch-strewn, They laid their man, and o'er him spread a cloth. They found the Saint, and brought him to that bier, And made their moan, and Garban 'neath that cloth Smiled as he heard it : "Lo, our friend is dead ! Great prophet kneel ; and pray the God thou serv'st To raise him from the dead." The man of G Upon them fixed a sentence-speaking eye— " Yea ! he is dead. In this ye have not lied ! Behold, this day shall Garban's covering be The covering of the dead. Eemove that cloth V Then drew they from his face the cloth ; and lo ! Beneath it Garban lay, a corpse, stone-cold. Amazement fell upon that bandit throng, Contemplating that corpse, and on Mac Kyle. At last Mac Kyle made answer: "I have sinned; I, and this people, whom I made to sin. Now, therefore, to thy God we yield ourselves Liegemen henceforth, his thralls as slave to lord Or horse to master. That which thou command'st That will we do." And Patrick said: "Believe; Confess your sins; and be baptized to God, The Father, and the Son, and Holy Spirit, And live true life." Then Patrick, where he stood Above the dead, with hands uplifted preached To these, in anguish and in terror bowed, The tidings of great joy from Bethlehem's crib To Calvary's cross. Sudden upon his knees, AND RECITATIONS. 97 eart-pierced, as though he saw that Head thorn-pierced, ill that wild chief, and was baptized to God. rid, lifting up his great strong hands, while still ae water streamed adown his matted locks, s cried: "Alas, my master and my sire! hat eric must I pay to quit my sin?" im Patrick answered : " God shall be thy judge. rise, and to the seaside fee, as one lat flies his foe. There is halt thou find a boat ade of one hide. Eat nought, and nothing take ccept one cloak alone ; but in that boat : thou, and bear the sin-mark on thy brow, .cing the waves, oarless and rudderless ; id bind the boat-chain thrice around thy feet, id fling the key with strength into the mum, r as thou canst ; and wheresoever the breath God shall waft thee, there till death live thou, orking the will Divine." The chief replied, ., that commanded others, can obey." Then rose that chief, and rushed »wn to the shore, as one that flies his foe ; id loosed a little boat, of one hide made, ^d sat therein, and round his ankles wound ie boat-chain thrice ; and flung the key far forth. |'ift rushed that boat, oarless and rudderless, id when the morn shone out upon the sands /o white-haired elders in the salt air knelt j'ering to God their early orisons, ninri and Romael. Sixty years ese two unto a hard and stubborn race .d preached the Word; and daily prayed their God send some happier arm, ere yet they died. n years they prayed, not doubting, aad from God, 10 hastens not, this answer had received : fe shall not die until ye see his face." 98. WERNER'S READINGS Therefore, each morning peered they o'er the waves, Long watching. These through breakers dragged the man, Their wished-for prize, half -frozen, and nigh to death, And bare him to their home, and fed, and warmed, And heaped his couch with skins. The weeks ran on, And daily those grey elders ministered God's teaching to that chief, demanding still, "Son, understands thou ? Gird thee like a man To clasp and hold the total faith of Christ, And give us leave to die." The months fled fast. Ere violets bloomed he knew the creed ; and when Far heathery hills purpled the autumnal air, He sang the Psalter whole. Then said the Lord, "Now is your task completed; ye shall die." Then on the red sand knelt those elders twain With hands upraised, and all their hoary hair Tinged like the foam-wreaths by that setting sun, And sang their "Nunc Dimittis." At its close They found the place where first, that bark descried, Their sighs were changed to songs. That spot they marke And said, " Our resurrection place is here." And, on the third day dying, in that place The man who loved them laid them ; at their heads Planting one cross, because their hearts were one, And one their lives. On him, their son in Christ, Their mantle fell, and strength to him was given. Long time he toiled alone ; then round him flocked Helpers from far. At last, by voice of- all, He gat the island's great episcopate, And king-like ruled the region. This is he, Mac Kyle of Uladh, bishop, and penitent, Saint Patrick's missioner in Manann's Isle, Sinner one time, and, after sinner, saint World famous. May his prayer for sinners plead ! AND RECITATIONS. 99 THE KING'S JOY-BELLS. KATE A. BRADLEY. npHE king sent forth an edict through the land ^~ And laid upon each subject his command, To bring of purest silver some fair part, Which, cast and fashioned by the smithy's art, Should live anew, a chime of joy-bells clear, The mighty monarch's sorrowing heart to cheer. And that their music should be all of joy He bade the smith such workmen to employ As had no thought of sorrow in their hearts And knew no wound from Fate's unfriendly darts. On pain of death no faintest sound of woe Should mingle with their echoing blow on blow. Then should the king of all his grief be cured, For so in nightly dreams was he assured. The bells were finished. In the market-place Was builded high a tower of richest grace, Which hid within such wondrous melody, As yet unborn and waiting to be free. The throng stood silent; scarce a murmured word Throughout the solemn hush expectant stirred. The king raised high his royal hand in pride, And to the waiting ringers loudly cried : ■ e King ye the bells ! " And instant at his voice Bang out the bells to bid his soul rejoice. But at the sound the multitude, dismayed, Looked in each others' eyes and grew afraid ; For through the summer air the joy-bells clear 100 WERNER'S READINGS Tolled but one tuneless note of woe and fear ; And let the ringers ring with all their might, No sound of joy pealed from the tower's height. " "Who has done this ? " the monarch cried at last ; And through the throng in' angry questioning passed. But none could answer him until he came To one who stood apart, of unknown nanie ; She went, and kneeling low before his feet She prayed : " king, your pardon I entreat ! " On me alone let all your anger rest, For I have sinned against your stern behest. That your grief might be easily allayed Such heavy burden on your poor you laid That while they brought their silver to your feet Their hungry children wept for food to eat ! "And as I gave my bread that they might live My tears flowed o'er the treasure I must give At your demand ; and as I wept I prayed That you might turn your heart and give your aid In royal measure to your starving poor. Now death, king, I'll easily endure !" The king stood silent for a little space ; The woman waiting knelt with hidden face. Then suddenly he cried : " Go, tear the bells From out their tower ! Their music only tells Of sadness and of snffering untold ! Go, change their silver for my ruddy gold, "And give until of poor throughout the land There is not one ! " Lo ! at the king's command Went up a nation's shout of joy profound, And all his sadness lifted at the sound ; And as he raised the woman at his feet He breathed, a prayer of praise, his joy complete. AND HECITA TIONS. 101 WHEN OLD JACK DIED. . JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. T^HEN" Old Jack died we stayed from school (they said At home we needn't go that day), and none [Of us ate any breakfast — only one, m that was papa — and his eyes were red, hen he came round where we were, by the shed Where Jack was lying, half-way in the sun And half-way in the shade. When we begun » cry out loud, pa turned and dropped his head And went away ; and mamma, she went back Into the kitchen. Then for a long while, All to ourselves, like, we stood there and cried : We thought so many good things of Old Jack, And funny things— although we didn't smile, We couldn't only cry when Old Jack died. ben Old Jack died, it seemed a human friend Had suddenly gone from us ; that some face fhat we have loved to fondle and embrace 3m babyhood, no more would condescend smile on us forever. We might bend With tearful eyes above him, interlace )ur chubby fingers o'er him, romp and race, $ad with him, call and coax — aye, we might send Phe old halloo up for him, whistle, hist, (If sobs had let us), or, as wildly vain, Snapped thumbs, called « Speak," and he had not replied ; We might have gone down on our knees and kissed The tousled ears, and yet they must remain Deaf, motionless, we knew, when Old Jack died. 102 WERNER'S READINGS When Old Jack died, it seemed to us, some way, That all the other dogs in town were pained With our bereavement, and some that were chained Even, unslipped their collars on that day To visit Jack in state, as though to pay A last sad tribute there ; while neighbors craned Their heads above the high board fence, and deigned To sigh "Foor dog!" remembering how they Had cuffed him when alive, perchance, because, For love of them, he leap'd to lick their hands; Now that he could not, were they satisfied ? We children thought that, as we crossed his paws, And o'er his grave, 'way down the bottom-lands, Wrote, " Our First Love Lies Here," when Old Jack diei SOMEBODY'S BOY. A STOEY OF THE BATTLE OF MALVERN" HILL. A S we were falling back upon Malvern Hill, the rear gua -*-*- fighting back the Confederate advance, our brigade wj wheeled to the left, and another to the right, to cover the narrc highway and give the wounded and the stragglers an opportune to close up. Across the fields, which were broken and woode advanced the enemy's skirmishers, followed by a double line battle. We checked them with a volley, but they re-formed a; charged with a cheer. I could see their faces very plainly und the smoke, and as they rushed forward I noticed that the mi directly in front of me was not a man but a stripling of a boy. ] did not look to be more than fifteen years old, and his face $| white and scared. Had he been a man I should have killed hi I could have hit him with my eyes shut, for he was comi straight upon me. When I saw that it was a boy I couldn't upon him. I covered him once, but his scared face turned ijj gun away. AND RECITATIONS. 103 We let them come charging up until some of the more impet- uous were almost over us, and then there was an awful crash of musketry — a great billow of flame — a thousand cries and groans, i The flame of death had licked up their lines. I looked for the [boy as the smoke lifted. lie stood, musket in hand, staring about as if paralyzed. Every man had gone down for ten feet either side of him. As our cheers burst forth, the boy faced about with the remnant of the line and retreated to cover. I rejoiced over his escape, and hoped that if another charge was made he would not be with them. Half an hour passed and now we were the rear guard — a brigade holding the narrow road. We saw the enemy massing for another charge, and again we made ready to receive them. As they came forward I saw the same white-faced boy, this time a little to the left of me. " Don't shoot that boy ! " I called to the men beyond me. The third man on the left was in line with the boy. He looked up at me with a sardonic smile, and then he rested his musket and covered the boy, to kill him when the word came to fire. An enemy was an enemy to him, whether man or boy. He was there to kill, held my breath as the double line again advanced. A little .closer and they fired a volley, and then charged. They sought our death — they were following us to destroy — they had no mercy. And yet, as I fired into the smoke, knowing that my bullet must find a human target, I was consoled by the reflection that I was not shooting at the boy — at Somebody's Boy. If he was killed, it would be by the man on my left, and he must answer for it. The enemy could not budge us. They couldn't touch our flanks, cand a charge in front was simply slaughter. Our volleys I broke their lines — threw them into confusion — and they were breasted back again. I sprang to my feet and looked for the boy. The powder-smoke whirled about, dove down, lifted up, floated iway among the tree-tops, and my heart bounded as I saw Some- body's Boy again. He stood with two comrades — the remnant, perhaps, of his whole company. Just as I got a glimpse of him ;he three turned to obey the call to retreat, and I swung my cap 104 WERNER'S READINGS and cheered. Our whole line was cheering — the others because they had again repulsed the enemy, I because Somebody's Boy had escaped. And when I looked along our line to the left, wondering how the man with the grim face and murderous heart had missed his target, I saw him lying dead on the ground — stone dead. A bullet had struck him fair in the forehead. THE SONG OF THE LOCOMOTIVE. rpHEY fed me with fire and heaped me with coal, -*- Till I glowed with the pride of my newly-made soui ; Then they gave me a drink from the cool-flowing stream, But my heart's inward fire soon turned it to steam ; It quenched not my thirst, and soon heated me more, I began now to pant and with madness to roar. Then they roused up the fire within me again, Till I hissed and began from my holdings to strain— For I longed to be bounding away o'er the earth, And to prove to weak mortals my glorious, birth. Oh, then, when I thought to be free and go forth — To rush unrestrained to the south, to the north — They bound to my back large masses of men, That I was to carry through valley and glen; So I gave a wild scream as they loosened my chain, And the city re-echoed my shrill note of pain. I was free — yet a slave— as I hurried along, Still dragging behind me that pale human throng; I knew that they feared me, and laughed out aloud As I thought of that trembling, fear-shaken crowd. We soon left the town, black and smoking, behind ; And I bore them along in the teeth of the wind AND RECITATIONS. 105 That went howling and roaring among the tall trees, But further on fell to a calm, sighing breeze. For through valleys with meadow and smiling fields decked, I now hurried onward, free, mad, and unchecked. Then a high mountain suddenly rose on the view — And I doubted if I could go over or through ; And to seek a way round it I felt was too late, I was bound to one road and that fearfully straight ; I deemed that I now should be dashed in the air, And gave what I thought my last shriek of despair; In a moment a cavern, wide, awful, and black, I was. forced to plunge into — I could not turn back. Still forward I sped through that dim, dreary place, As though with myself I were running a race ; For nothing opposed me, none crossed my long path ; All seemed to have fled far away from my wrath. Soon a shriek, like my own, woke the cavern's repose, And a deep, rumbling noise in the distance arose; Then I saw coming onward a dull, glowing light, That luridly lit up the hideous night ; I saw Fd a brother — we laughed as we passed, For our greeting was quick as the rush of the blast. My strength and my power so j)roudly I knew, That I strove to be rid of the load which I drew ; And when the broad daylight streamed on me again, The rate of my fleetness no hand could restrain. I hurled myself headlong, with savage delight, From the edge of a dizzy, precipitous height. Then I lay like a wreck, bruised, mangled, and torn, 'Mid the groaning and screams of those beings forlorn That I dragged over with me — my masters before, Now my victims, but soon to be masters once more; For my power had fled with this effort of hate, And I passively yielded at last to my fate. 106 WERNER'S READINGS THE WHITE HEARSE. ii TSN'T it pretty ?" said a little old man, as he wheeled a bat . -L carriage to where I was sitting in the park. " It must be pretty/' said I, looking into the carriage, and sei ing a tiny creature, snugly nestling in a downy nest, its face co" ered with a delicate lace veil. The little old man was delighted ; his little old chin went twi a-twit-a-twee, and he chirped like a bird. " They keep his face covered," he said, with a sigh, " since tit little white hearse drove away from the house the other day. Bi I— ' The little old man stopped and looked all around with h twinkling eyes. "I will show its face to you ; it's so very, very pretty." An the little old man's chin again went twit-a-twit-a-twee. " They will be angry, but I'm so proud of its pretty face that must show it." The little old man took the lace that covered the baby's face i his trembling fingers, and I prepared to burst into exclamations \ delight, even if the face should prove to be the homeliest face i the world. " Mustn't," a little child said, coming from behind the bushe and seizing the coat-tails of the little old man. " Danpa mustn't, " The flies will annoy Rose," a gentle girl of twelve said, joi ing the little group and carefully replacing the lace. Close obse vation showed a tear trembling in the girl's eye, as the little o] man wheeled away the carriage, with the little child dancing t his side. " Oh, it's such deception !" she exclaimed, burying her face ) her hands. " Baby Rose died last week, and we are afraid to te grandpa, as his mind is weak, and she was his idol ; so we put doll in the carriage, closely veiled, so he cannot see its face, and 1 him wheel it around. But it's dreadful." AND RECITATIONS. . 107 Just then the little old man paused, left the little child with the carriage, and came back to where the girl was seated. He put his face close to hers and whispered : " What was it that they carried away in the little white hearse ?" The poor girl turned away her face. '* Flowers, only flowers, grandpa." " I wonder," the little old man mused, " why they all turn their ifaces away when they tell me what they carried away in that little white hearse ? " Then he went to the carriage again and chirped like the merry little old man that he was. "Flowers, only flowers," I heard him murmur, as he wheeled the doll away. WHAT ECHO SAID. ^\NCE on a time two little boys, ^-^ And naughty ones you'll say, Eesolved, before they'd go to school, That they would go and play. Said William to his brother Dick, "We shall not be found out." But Echo mocked the naughty boy, And answered, " Be found out." " I fear," said Dick to little Will, ' "That some one overhears;" He looked to see, and Echo then Cried, " Some one overhears." " never mind," said William, then ; " Come, do not be afraid ;" And when they both began to play. Said Echo, " Be afraid." 108 WERNER'S READINGS , "What can it be ?" said William; " Oh let us go to school/' For he began to be afraid ; Said" Echo, "Go -to school." Then, softly whispering, they said, "Oh, if our master knows !" But Echo, answering every word, Said softly, " Master knows." " What shall we do ?" then William said \ • " We must ; not tell a lie." • And then they heard the Echo's voice Say, " Must not tell a lie." " I never will do this again If master will forgive," Said Will to Dick, and then the voice Said, "Master will forgive." " We shall not be so very late If we make haste away ; " And Echo, with a warning voice, Cried out, "Make haste away." Then Dickey dried his tears, and said, "I will d6 so ho more;" And Echo in a cheerful voice Then said, "Do so no more." "Then we'll be off to school," said they, And off they quickly ran, And happily were just in time Before the school began.- Remember, then, my little friends, Though Echo nothing knew, There's One above who always knows Both what you ( say and do. , AND RECITATIONS. 109 THE VISION OF HANDEL. P. L. BLATCHFOKD. TN his room alone and silent, -*- Handel, the composer, knelt, All his mighty mind with reverence On the task before him bent. In his hand a scroll unfinished, Wherein he had penned each chord Of that wondrous oratorio — Sacred drama of the Lord. But his power seemed to have left him, And his heart was filled with woe, When, athwart the deepening shadows, Lo ! there gleamed a radiant glow. There, amidst celestial glory, Stood an angel, bright and fair, Smiling on the great musician Who in anguish bended there. Then the angel touched him gently, Pointing with uplifted hand To a Figure, standing silent, Eobed in white, on golden strand; But the marks were still about Him, Scars of wounds from where He trod On this earth, its noblest victim — "The Incarnate Son of God." Then the soul of the musician Glowed with rapture once again, As unto his mind there sounded That sweet anthem, strain by strain: 110 WERNER 'S READING:; [Recitation continues, with musical accompaniment.] I si know that my Redeemer liveth, And the -±: Slow, pp /* * 1 1__ 1 1 — , F=t=± :S~ :9i angel bade him -«?- m mf -f--i— •- • . -*- write On the scroll of " The Messiah," Notes to suj -1—4 ■&>- 4=^d: & Jtzt J— 4 3==tfc -•- -zst- -rf those words of light. Then the heavenly vision vanished. Still around him, grand and swee i j-i^ r^ ?n ^ — 0-J * m -m- \-^-» ■ pp ^^^m Notes from angels and archangels Made a melody complete; AND RECITATIONS, 111 As the " Hallelujah Chorus" Moderately quick Sounded forth in mighty chords, While all I j -«- -*--•- =^=CT= r - ? -^-g =i-f-r p-p~f sr * £ -•— * things by Him created.Praised the holy Lord of Lords. On His knees the sreat^^ =a=3= 3=* rvr -- h=«=h ==^=t i»- * *• Raised to God his pseans of praise, -f-0- -§- zt v )aa ^ As he closed his oratorio— Closed that well- loved work of days. fflp raZZ. I And his heart in glad thanksgiving Felt that every glorious strain Which his soul had learned from angels, Should be ndscd to heaven again. 113 WERNER'S READINGS So in charity he gave it, Unreserved, a gift to God, And for poor and suffering mortals, Sounded each melodious chord.* And that music sweet and reverent, Worthy was to celebrate, That most holy life on record, Kisen Lord, Eedeemer great. Now on tomb of the musician, f In old England's abbey grand, Stands the figure of an angel Touching him with gentle hand. And as centuries roll, that statue, Silent, yet speaks evermore, To the heart in golden legend — \ Mystic, sweet, from days of yore. * The oratorio of ' ' The Messiah " was first performed in the New Music | Hall in Fishamble street, Dublin, April 13, 1742. The composer gave all the proceeds to be divided among the following charities : The Society for Re- lieving Prisoners, the Charitable Infirmary and Mercer's Hospital. f Above the grave of Handel, in Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey, a monument, by Roubillac, was erected to his memory. It represents him in the act of writing "I know that my Redeemer liveth," which is being dic- tated to him by an angel. LEGEND OF THE HEATHER, T ONGr ages ago when the world was young, -*-^ And the flowers first had their birth — When the rocks were bare and jagged and scarred, And veined with dark seams of earth, The harebells, gentians, and cyclamen, all In the midst of herbage grew ; And the heather and fern and mosses green Made the flowers more fair to view. AND RECITATIONS. 113 An angel came down from heaven one day, He knew the language of flowers ; As he walked he talked to each one in turn To beguile the passing hours. He pitied the cliffs so gaunt and so lone And he said to the flowers gay : " Will you come with me to clothe the bleak rocks And cover their boulders gray ? " Then the harebells swayed on their slender stalks, Trembling they hung their heads low, And murmured : " The daisies might like the rocks But we would rather not go." Then the buttercups said : "Do not ask us, Our gold could not gild their gloom ; To dwell in the shadow of surly crags Would be to live in a tomb." The cyclamen shivering sighed with fear, And whispered, sister to brother : " No angel, I'm sure, could so cruel be As to make us leave each other." Now, the heather never a flower had borne, But sympathy struck its chord, And unto the angel the heather said : "May I clothe the rocks, my lord ?" Well pleased the archangel was, I ween, With the heather on the walk, For he stooped to caress the humble plant And flower-bells sprang from the stalk, O'er plains, on slopes, far as eye could reach, From bowers fair, from woodlands wild, In rifts and clefts that scarred the naked rocks, The loving, happy heather smiled. 114 WERNER'S READINGS THE TWO CHIMNEYS. PHILIP BURROUGHS STRONG. TTPON two neighboring village houses 3K Two chimneys stood — one short, one tall The former hidden from observers, The latter plainly seen by all. The tall one thus addressed the other, As down he glanced in high disdain : "How mean you look and what a figure ! You surely never need be vain." "I know," replied the short one, meekly, "I'm but a very humble thing." "That I should say," the tall responded, "And then you're only on a wing. "Now you must find it lonely, very, To be away down there so far, When all the better class of chimneys High up upon the buildings are. "And then so short! to call you 'chimney' Is most amusingly unfit ; 'A hole within the roof were truer," And loud he laughed at his own wit. "I am as you have said," was answered; "But then if one but meet the end For which he's made, what matter whether He lofty be or lowly, friend ? " We cannot all be palace chimneys ; Some must on common dwellings be ; If but alike we do our duty, We're equals quite, it seems to me," AND RECITATIONS. 115 The night drew on and passed ; as ever The little chimney stood next morn ; But where is he, so high and haughty, "Who once the other laughed to scorn ? Ah, in the night a storm had risen, And from his height the tall one swept, 'Twas so exposed ; whereas the other, Low and low down, his place had kept. Let us not envy those above us (We have far less than they to fear) ; But whatsoever be life's station, Contented fill our proper sphere. ARNOLD AT STILLWATER. THOMAS DUNX ENGLISH. \ H ! I remember Stillwater, as it were yesterday ; ~^- Then first I shouldered a firelock, and set out the foemen to slay. he country was up all around us, racing aud chasing Burgoyne, nd I had gone out with my neighbors, Gates and his forces to join. arched we with poor and with learned, ready and eager to fight, here stood the foemen before us, cannon and men on the height ; nd onward we presssed till the order of Cilley fell full on the ear, hen we leveled our pieces and fired, and rushed up the slope with a cheer, iercely we charged on their centre, and beat back the stout grenadiers, nd wounded the brave Major Ackland, and grappled the swart cannoneers, ive times we captured their cannons, and five times they took them again ; 116 WERNER'S READINGS But the sixth time we had them we kept them, and with them a share oi their men, Worn as we were with the struggle, wounded and bleeding and sore, Some stood all pale and exhausted, some lay there stiff in their gore ; And round through the mass went a murmur, that grew to a whispering clear, And then to reproaches outspoken, "If General Arnold were here ! " For Gates, in his folly and envy, had given the chief no command, And far in the rear some had seen him, horseless and moodily stand Knitting his forehead in anger, and gnawing his red lip in pain, Fretting himself like a blood-hound held back from his prey by a chain. Hark ! at our right there is cheering, there is the ruffle of drums ; Here is the well-known brown charger, spurring it madly he comes ! Piercing the tumult behind him, Armstrong is out on his track, Gates has dispatched his lieutenant to summon the fugitive back. Wounds they were healed in a moment, weariness instantly gone, Forward he pointed his sabre, led us, not ordered us on. Down on the Hessians we thundered, he like a mad man ahead ; Vainly they strove to withstand us, raging they shivered and fled. On to their earth-works we drove them, shaking with ire and disrriay ; There they made stand with the purpose to beat back the tide of the day. Onward we followed, then faltered, deadly their balls whistled free ; Where is our death-daring leader ? Arnold, our hope, where was he? AND RECITATIONS. 117 He ! he was everywhere, riding hither and thither, his form On the brown charger careering, showed us the path of the storm Over the roar of the cannon, over the musketry's crash Sounded his voice, while his sabre lit up the way with its flash. Throwing quick glances around him, reigning a moment his steed, "Brooks!, that redoubt," was his order; "let the rest follow my lead. Mark where the smoke cloud is parting ! See where their gun- barrels glance ! Livingstone, forward ! On, Wesson ! Charge them ! Let Morgan advance. 'Forward \" he shouted, and spurring on through the sally port, then Fell sword in hand on the Hessian, closely behind him our men. Back shrank the foemen in terror, off went their forces pell-mell, Firing one Parthian volley. Struck by it Arnold ; he fell. Ours was the day ! Up we raised him ; spurted the blood from his knee. "Take this cravat, boys, and bind it ; I'm not dead yet," said he. What ! Did you follow me, Armstrong ? Pray, do you think it quite right Leaving your duties out yonder to risk your dear self in the fight?" "General Gates sent his orders/' falteringly the aide-de-camp spoke, "You're to -return, lest some rashness" — fiercely the speech Arnold broke : " Eashness ! Why, yes, tell the General the rashness he dreaded is done ; Tell him his kinsfolks are beaten ; tell him the battle is won ! " Oh, that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight, Passed from the daylight of honor into the terrible night. Fell as the mighty archangel, e'er earth glowed into space fell. Fell from the patriot's heaven down to the loyalist's hell ! 118 WERNER'S READINGS THE ELIXIR OF LIFE. WILLIAM M'GILL. T ONG years ago there lived in monkish cell -*-^ Good Father Clement, learned, wise, austere "With his own self, but never wont to dwell On other's faults with words of blame severe. The guilty and repentant he would cheer With kindest speech of loving charity; A priest who held the sinning soul more dear Than broken laws, though graven on the sky, And looked on mankind's woes with sympathetic eye. All day he wrought amongst the sick and poor, And strove to lighten their sad load of pain. His hours of sleep he shortened, to secure Some time for study, and his weary brain Taxed to the utmost so that he might gain Knowledge of alchemy and mystic skill, Hoping by forced night-marches to attain To that famed fount whose flood heals every ill, And Death himself defies with all his power to kill. Much time he spent in vain and fruitless search Of this hid treasure, till the fear of sin Against the laws of God and Holy Church In seeking fruit of knowledge, which had been Forbidden, made him stay his toil therein And straight betake himself to humble prayer. "Dear Lord," he cried, "if haply I may win In this exploit, or if I should forbear, Show me, that I may cease from unrequited care. " Yet if Thy mercy may this knowledge give, let me know the bliss of healing woes ; AND RECITATIONS. 119 For it is hard to teach the way to live To souls whose flesh is racked with deadly throes ; Nor would I use this power in case of those Whom Thy just judgments have condemned to die. But surely Death too wide a circle mows, And Pain's sad victims in vast numbers cry: One year at least, Lord, let me this cure apply. ';? Then if Thy wisdom longer shall refuse To grant me this sweet liberty to heal, The precious secret I shall cease to use, And to no other soul shall it reveal ; And Thou again mayest set on it Thy seal Removing it from sight of men for aye. For one short year of jubilee I kneel ; Yet not for self but others would I pray, Grant me this one and take my other years away." Thus this good father raised his humble plaint To the All Father, fearing to offend ; With meek submission, as became a saint Of ancient creed, he strove to gain his end, And that same night did Heaven an answer send. An angel bore a flagon to his cell, With liquid filled, clear as what clouds suspend, And spake : " man of God, thy cares dispel ! What earthenware may hold I bring from Life's own well. " Go, use it freely in sweet mercy's cause, No limit am I bidden to impose, The worst transgressors of God's righteous laws — Bestow its healing virtues even on those. Replenish from the nearest spring that flows, For no dilution can affect its power, And find in it a cure for mortals' woes, To all who use it faithfully, Heaven's dower, Defending from Death's dart till life's fruition hour. 120 WERNER'S READINGS " think not such a secret would be hid In some dark cranny in great Nature's breast, While Pain and Deaths remorseless and unclad, Wrung Sorrow's flood of tears from the oppressed ! Could thine own arm, to do thy heart's behest, Wield such an instrument as Moses' rod, So rocks would yield a cure for the distressed Wouldst thou not fill vast seas with such a flood ? Deem not thyself, man, more merciful than God. ; This was the message which the angel brought, And this the gift, the sacred gift from Heaven, And by its aid were gracious wonders wrought Pale Death from many a sorrowing household driven While taught by the rebuke so gently given The monk proclaimed the Gospel with fresh zeal The cure for soul and body passion-riven, Water and Spirit which together heal, And work in harmony man's dual nature's weal. THE BATTLE OF LEPANTO. FOR ROSARY SUNDAY. [The feast of the Rosary was instituted to thank Almighty God for ha- delivered Christendom from the arms of the Turks by the miraculous vie of Lepanto, in 1571, through the intercession of the Mother of God impl with fervor in the devotion of the rosary. St: Pius ordained a yearly ( memoration, under the title of St. Mary de Victoria ; the feast is now kn under the name of the Holy Rosary, occurring the first Sunday in October The Boast of the Turks. "A LL Europe soon must feel the sway *"- Of Omar's daring, fearless son ; The Christian true shall dearly pay . The wrongs to us they oft have done," AND RECITATIONS. 121 Mustapha spoke — true Turk of old ! Lepanto's Gulf afar lie sees: What say, ye knaves, a sea-fight bold Will .throw Europa on her knees ? Ye are a fierce, avenging throng. Hear ye, by me 'tis proudly said, The Christian herds will not reign long, When dauntless troops are onward led ; They soon shall know the Sunnite's arms Will make them beg, aye, plead in vain. Ye Turkish braves, what can alarm When foes shall fall as thick as rain ? And then, when Europe's sons we hold, The Koran laws they'll soon embrace ; Eefuse ? Oh, then they'll quick be sold, For sacred oath we'll ne'er retrace." Our Lady's Intercession Invoked. Within fair Europe's glorious land, There stood arrayed a noble band ; Whose noble hearts, as strong as brave, Throbbed for the cross they vowed to save. Yea, they were threatened by the foe, Their joy had changed to deepest woe ; The Moslem's power would soon hold sway, Fain would it swear Christ's faith away. Lo ! See the fatal crisis near — Will Mary now her children hear ? She ne'er refuseth those who ask No matter what, or great, the task. L bJ 7r -t± *=*- 5 U ^ c± ** :~: 3t^ How should thy lyre give here its wealth of buried sweetness forth? Its tones, of summer's breath- ings born, to the s js I hi. i — 7-1 g I ±* 3>. r ; ~T~ X~ n» pocorit *&t£ 3= -## =S fc *:* "' £ / 9i*S beEE g_g_P- 1 — j_^ i »7Ef — s-^=^=^= 1 — «— =1- 3*2 r" fs =t are blue heavens — far hence, far hence! but oh! their glorious blue! Its very night is bean- ^^ tiful.with the hya- — ^ ^"~"~r x cinth's deep Be »m frr =)e*: TO Ej ^ :tfie ttc XU fff* =Jfc 3=7 £3 ^= hue! It is above my own fair land, and round my laughing home, And arching o'er my vintage hills, they hang their cloudless m 8va m a li ¥ f » -»- -»- -#— m- -£— I— ^f i S: -# — #- r i r i ^ & fe-r rr e — #- "*"* — t =fc=*=t=ttt=K I 1- F-b+T m =j 154 WERNER'S READINGS dome, And making all the waves as geins.that melt along the shore, And steeping happy hearts in joy, that '"-nine " " a. now Is mine no I 0- P S^^Slrl^^P »-» IP ^P ISJ> tc t» *tt f =^=q* i --tr more. And there are floating sounds that fill the _ skies thro' night and day, Sweet sounds! , I the joul t( fefe £z2 *-+ %¥-- m 9i?EEF=? ft. S^=' rr-£: -• — • *£=*] 3^tS = #W" * hear them faints in dreams of heaven a-way! They wander thro' the olive woods *u i i =s=,^^mMm and o'er the 44- AND RECITATIONS. 155 shining seas : They mingle with the orange scents that load the sleepy breeze ; Lute, voice, and bird are __ _____^__^_____ blending there;— it N •" T ~~~" tr were a bliss to die, As dies a leaf, thy groves among, my flow'ry Sicily! I may not thus depart, — farewell; yet CODA. |^ . ^ |— ,^ =L, no, my country, no! Is not love stronger than the grave? I feel it must be so! My fleeting spirit shall o'er I it -)=-• £ -i p y j — — 1 dim. Ped. m&t ^ ^S *E*3§: WZJL — I — h^^™ - - -ft- il "3T 156 WERNER'S READINGS sweep the mountains and the main, And in thy tender starlight - — 1_ rove, and thro' thy woods again •r*-' Its passioi » 4=- PecZ. £T e*- §aa ESSE .0—0- V m P % w§ Ml %$ deepens,— it prevails ! I break my chain— I come To dwell aviewless b lest, i n thy sweet air, my s^E&t- . * home! -W=^ AND RECITATIONS. 157 And her pale arms dropped the ringing lyre, There came a mist o'er her eye's wild fire ; And her dark rich tresses, in many a fold, Loosed from their braids, down her bosom rolled. For her head sank back on the rugged wall, — A silence fell o'er the warriors' hall ; She had pour'd out her soul with her song's last tone ; The lyre was broken, the minstrel gone ! TENNIS DRILL. MARY DREW WILSON, N" the new and popular Tennis Drill for six young ladies and six young gentlemen, or twelve young ladies, opportunity is Drded for beautiful and graceful action, forming a delightful ture of an evening's entertainment. DIRECTIONS FOR DRILL. Twelve }"oung ladies of about equal height, or six young ladies 1 six young gentlemen, form the company, with one lady as pire or captain. The company may be dressed in fancy tennis costume. The ikets, of medium size, should be trimmed with bright colored bons about three-quarters of an inch wide and a yard and a half g, tied in a pretty bow on the handles, and the .narrowest of Don to match may also be woven across the face of the rackets, ; ing the place of the cords. The captain may carry an imita- : i racket made of paper, upon which should be written the fig- s of the drill. This racket may be fastened to a wand, so that lay be used in marking time. To every figure give eight counts. | music any good 4-4 march time will do. Captain enters, taking her position near the front of the stage he left. Company enters from opposite sides in single files, half number on one side and half on the other, partners opposite 158 WERNER'S READINGS each other. They pass each other across the back of the stag< those on the right holding their rackets in one hand, those on th left in the other. Sfcill continuing in single file, on opposite side of the stage, they march down to the front. There they pass eac other in line, as at the back, and as the partners meet in the centi 1 and 1, 2 and 2, 3 and 3, 4 and 4, 5 and 5, 6 and 6, form an arc! with their rackets. They march in pairs to the front, where the separate to the right and left, return to the back, fall again int pairs, cross arms, holding the rackets erect, and march to fron Then go in pairs, right and left, first pair to right, second pair t left, third pair to right, fourth pair to left, fifth pair to righ sixth pair to l^i t. March around and fall into two rows across tb stage — first, third and fifth in front row, second, fourth and sixtj in back row, prepared for drill. Eackets must all be held in rig?, hand for drill. (Captain may pace up and down, or stand with hi arms folded during this march.) After the company has formed in two lines, the captain a(j vances and gives the command. 1. Retreat : Company takes four steps back and are in positio for drilling. 2. Courtesy : Right foot forward in front of left ; raise rack to erect position on right shoulder, with right hand, left har down at side. As racket is raised to shoulder, all courtesy to lef 3. Down : Racket falls to the side ; 8 counts. 4. Head : Racket' held with right hand on head ; 8 count! left foot forward, body slightly bent, left hand on hip. 5. Up : Racket back of and a little above head, held by boi hands and slightly swayed to the right, head turned a little to tl n left. 6. Ground : Touch head, 1 count ; shoulder, 1 count ; swii with tips of finger?, 2 counts ; ground, letting rackets lie flat the ground, still holding them, 4 counts. 7. Petition" : Raise quickly from ground, hold racket direct out in front in right hand, left hand across the breast. ig 8. Wave : High over heads with right hand, left hand do"V p at side. >F AND RECITATIONS. 159 9. Listen : Racket held back of right ear, left hand on hip, >ody inclined toward the right. 10. Anger : Partners face each other, stamp and raise rackets mgrily as if about to strike. 11. Reconciliation : Let racket fall to the side, throw a kiss rom the tips of the fingers of the left hand. 12. Poise : Racket held out at arm's length in front, left foot ack, slightly lifted, left hand resting on left hip. 13. Rackets Aloft : Right foot turned to the right, racket if ted and held by both hands overhead, elbows bent. 14. Elbow : Left arm placed diagonally across breast, fingers auching right shoulder. Allow left elbow to rest upon face of acket ; incline head to right. 15. Chest : Right foot forward, knee bent, racket pressed gainst chest, with both hands crossed on the face of it. 16. Disdain : Take opposite direction of torso and head. 3Cold racket in left hand back of head, right hand on hip ; step ack obliquely ; 8 counts. 17. Arm-Movement : Racket held by both hands, moved orward arm's length, then backward, striking chest four times ; counts. 18. Strike : Four raps with racket on the ground ; 8 counts. 19. Surrender : Lay racket at feet. Rise simultaneously, ody erect, arms folded. 20. Recover : Stoop and pick up racket, resting it on right ip, left hand at side. 21. Tenderness : Racket held over heart, handle in right ;lfand, left hand placed over face of racket ; incline the body ightly forward. 22. Victory : Racket held aloft, left foot crossing right foot o|i front and standing on tiptoes. 23. Wave : Wave joyfully around the head. I 24. Sorrow : Right elbow supported by left hand, head lean- lg to right, resting on racket, which is held in the right hand ; yes closed. 25, Shoulder. Racket on shoulder ; 8 counts, 160 WERNER'S READINGS 26. Break Ranks : Front row falls tack in pairs into back row, which breaks apart in pairs to receive them, forming one line with the pairs in regular order, 1 and 1, 2 and 2, 3 and 3, 4 and 4, 5 and 5, 6 and 6. Then all together take four steps back, cap- tain to the side. 27. Salute : Rackets on right shoulder, 2 counts ; then ex- tend them obliquely to the right, 2 counts ; bring forward with a graceful waving movement and place under left arm, 8 counts. 28. Form Rings : Take four steps forward and form two circles, six in each, each one holding his own racket with one hand, and that of the person next with the other, rackets held out at arm's length. 29. Revolve : The circle at the left takes 8 steps around tc the right, then reverse, taking 8 steps to the left ; while the circle at the right takes 8 steps to the left, then reverse, taking 8 step? to the right. j 30. Partners : Form in line again, in pairs, and marcr around the stage. When in the middle of the stage the firs] couple face each other and form an arch, with their rackets-H touching at arm's length— above them, held by both hands, as irj "London Bridge." The second couple pass under them, thei: rackets held directly in front with both hands. As soon as the; are through they raise their rackets, making a second arch. Th< third couple pass through both arches and make a third arch then the fourth couple, making a fourth arch, followed by thj fifth and sixth couples. Then the first couple lower their rackets pass through five arches and separate, one going to the right the other to the left. The second couple then pass through th remaining arches and do the same, followed by the third, f ourt] and fifth couples. Then the sixth drop their arms and follow These two lines march around the stage twice, going in opposit directions, racket on shoulder. The third time they meet, th| couples fall together and march off the stage, holding their racket with both hands on their heads. AND RECITATIONS. 161 THE NIGHTINGALE. LOUIS E. VAX XORMAX. TpiS night in the forest, the long day is over, -*- And each feathered songster has gone to his nest, And even the sparrow, that pert little rover, Has ceased all his chatt'ring and sunk into rest. When what do I hear, So sweet and so clear, Away to the West ? The melody swells, every note richly blended, It rises and falls like the waves of the sea, Now high, till with sweetness the heavens seem rended, And then like the 'wind, as it sighs o'er the lea! Till the old forest round Seems bathed in the sound From out the elm tree. What heavenly singer such exquisite trilling Dispenses so freely, and yet hides himself ? How lovely the form of the being who's filling The air with such stores of melodious wealth ! That music of thine Is almost divine. Come, show thy sweet self. I looked in the elm tree, and in its thick cover, A little brown creature amid the boughs green Was filling the wood till it seemed to run over, With praise to the God of love, felt though unseen. And while each rich note Swelled up from its throat, Stars looked on the scene. 162 WERNER'S READINGS And who is this plain, unassuming musician, This warbler in brown with his Orphean strain ? Nightingale ! hid 'neath that garb what patrician Of birds so harmoniously sings thy refrain ? Thy voice is thy dower, And, bowed 'neath its power, We own thy sweet reign. CONSTERNATION. rpHE housewife woke with sudden fright, -*- About the hour of two, And, trembling, lay with gasping breath, Not knowing what to do. All sorts of plans for safety sped Like lightning through her brain ; But still she was inanimate Held fast by terror's chain. Was there a burglar down below, Eevealed by latch's click,- That made her heart almost stand still And every fibre sick ? Was creaking step upon the stair ? Had baby ceased to breathe, That she should take this Eussian bath, Or creeping chills receive ? Was smell of smoke within the house ? Had she forgot her prayers ? Oh, no, she simply had not brought The silver- ware upstairs ! AND RECITATIONS. 163 WHAT LOTTIE SAW. E. L. BKOWN. OTTIE SMITH lived in the country. She had been an errand at a neighbor's, and she set her basket on the floor as she ime into the kitchen, where her mother was frying doughnuts. "Well, daughter, are you tired ?" " Yes, I am pretty tired/' said Lottie. But she added, smiling, While I was gone, mamma, I saw twenty-five of the prettiest ttle kittens you ever saw." ' Lottie Smith ! " exclaimed her mother, reprovingly. ' Eeally, mamma," said Lottie ; " and I wish you could see lem, they are so pretty and cunning." e Twenty-five kittens are a great many, little daughter," said 3r mother, gravely. " Where did you see them ? " " Over at Mrs. Dunton's, where I went to buy the eggs ; and )w, mamma, I'll tell you all about it. After Mrs. Dunton had it the eggs in my basket, she said : " ' Come this way a minute. I want to show you something.' " So she took me into the woodshed, and there, in an old cheese >x, were five lovely little kittens. After I had seen them long lough, I started for home, and Willie met me just by the well, id said : " ( Oh, Lottie ! come back just a minute, I want to show you mething.' " So he took me in at the back-shed door, and showed me five inning little kittens in a cheese box. "In a few minutes Mrs. Dunton called Willie, and I started for raie again. Grandpa Dunton met me by the side steps. He said : " ' Why, here's Lottie Smith ! just come back, child, I want you see something we have in the shed.' 164 WERNER'S READINGS " So I went back, and he showed me five kittens, all in a littl heap in a cheese box. " Then I started for home again, and got as far as the gate when Joe met me, and said : " ' Hello, Lottie Smith ! you are just the gill I want to see. want to show you something. Come back to the house a minute "So I went back with him, and he showed me five fat littli kittens in a cheese box. " After I looked at them I said good-by to Joe, and started t< come home by the back way. And Grandma Dunton met mi going down the garden-walk. She kissed me, and said : ' ' ' How bright you look, my dear ! I want you to see some thing at the house. Just come back a minute/ "So she took me back and showed me five sleepy little kitten in a cheese box. " And now, mamma," said Lottie, triumphantly, "didn't I set twenty-five little kittens ?" Mamma's eyes twinkled, and she said : "It looks a good dea as if you did." THE TURN OF THE TIDE. KOSE KAVANAGH. f~] REEN waves, green waves, whose thunder woke ^-^ Wild music 'neath the deep sea-wall, Till every fairy echo spoke From Duan's cave, in Donegal. My little nephew's gleeful face Was like the sea-pink swinging nigh. As leaving my safe-sheltered place He sprang upon a rock hard by, AND RECITATIONS. 165 And tossed his arms above his head, And sang while dancing to and fro ; Then one wild cry — he fell like lead Down "to the seething gulf below ! That frenzied moment — ah ! I know Not how I gained the water's brink ; Nor how such agony of woe Left heart and brain with power to think. I fought the boiling surf, and watched Each rising wave with bated breath ; I said: "My darling may be snatched Even yet from out the jaws of death." In vain my watch throughout the storm ; When hope died hard, I cried to God : " Give back his little lifeless form, And I will bear your chastening rod." Ten hours the tide had still to stay ; Kneeling I watched its ebb and flow ; But what I suffered then I pray No other woman's heart may know. And once within a quiet pool I saw the face tbat was my own All aged, shrunk and pitiful, The hair snow-white, the eyes like stone. At last.... what filled that narrow space? ......I never knew. Two kisses fell Upon my sleeping, tear-drenched face : The little lad I loved so well Broke my bad dream. Oh ! he was here, Living and laughing ; high o'er all God's blessed sun was shining clear, And we were far from Donegal ! 166 WERNER'S READINGS THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF. MRS. A. M. TOMLINSOJT. T7VA.R over in Norway's distant realm, -*- That land of ice and snow, Where the winter nights are long and drear, And the North winds fiercely blow, From many a low-thatched cottage roof, On Christmas eve, 'tis said, A sheaf of grain is hung on high, To feed the birds o'erhead. In years gone by, on Christmas eve, When the day was nearly o'er, Two desolate, starving birds flew past A humble peasant's door. "Look! look!" cried one, with joyful voice And a piping tone of glee ; ** In that sheaf there is plenteous food and cheer, And the peasant had but three. One he hath given to us for food, And he hath but two for bread ; But he gave it with smiles and blessings, 'For the Christ Child's sake,' he said." " Come, come," cried the shivering little mate, u For the light is growing dim ; 'Tis time, ere we rest in that cosy nest, To sing our evening hymn." And this was the anthem they sweetly sang, Over and over again : " The Christ Child came on earth to bless The birds as well as men." AND RECITATIONS. 167 Then safe in the snug, warm sheaf they dwelt, Till the long, cold night was gone, And softly and clear the sweet church bells Rang out on the Christmas dawn, When down from their covert, with fluttering wings, They flew to a resting-place, As the humble peasant passed slowly by, With a sorrowful, downcast face. " Homeless and friendless, alas ! am I," They heard him sadly say, "For the sheriff," (he wept and wrung his hands) " Will come on New Year's day/' The birdlings listened with mute surprise, " 'Tis hard," they gently said ; " He gave us a sheaf of grain for food, When he had but three for bread. We will pray to God, He will surely help This good man in distress ; " And they lifted their voices on high, to crave His mercy and tenderness. Then again to the Christmas sheaf they flew, In the sunlight, clear and cold ; " Joy ! joy ! each grain of wheat," they sang, " Is a shining coin of gold. " A thousand ducats of yellow gold, A thousand, if there be one ; master ! the wonderful sight behold In the radiant light of the sun." The peasant lifted his tear-dimmed eyes To the shining sheaf o'erhead : "'Tis a gift from the loving hand of God, And a miracle wrought," he said. *' For the Father of all, who reigneth o'er, His children will ne'er forsake, When they feed the birds from their scanty stoi? r For the blessed Christ Child's sake." 168 WERNER'S READINGS "The fields of kindness bear golden grain/' Is a proverb true and tried ; Then scatter thine alms, with lavish hand, To the waiting poor outside ; And remember the birds, and the song they sang, When the year rolls round again : "The Christ Child came on earth to bless The birds as well as men." CORDELIE. BROTHER PAUL, 0. S. P. rpHE lordly manor, Cordelie, stood by the river Tweed ; -*- A line of noble ancestry, renowned in word and deed, Had graced the long ancestral line, in deeds of valor tried ; There still remained one worthy scion, the rest in glory died. A baby boy, scarce four years old, beside the manor played ; And for his guardian, watchful, bold, a noble mastiff strayed His father's hope, his mother's pride, their flaxen-headed boy Roamed carelessly, the dog beside, and laughed with fearless jo But often when the skies are bright and everything looks faj There comes a chilling frost to blight the plant that is most ra^ 3 The friend that loved thee purest, best, is sure the first to go; The voice that cheers thy aching breast is soonest hushed in wo | The fairy boy had disappeared, his mother's hopes had fled ; His agonized father feared the worst ; his pride is dead. And in his burning grief he cried : " My child, young Cordelie jj I wish thy father long had died before that this should be ! " The clan now roams the country wide, o'er hill and dale and gle: To find some trace whereby to guide the knight to lead his men. I J AND RECITATIONS. 169 ^e only clue from north to south, red in the sunlight's glare, Vas hanging from the mastiff's mouth a bunch of human hair. L nd then the chief with burning soul, and heart in passion's throe, Jried out : " Enough ! 'tis all explained ; I have- the secret now. "his is Llewellyn's beard, my men ; I'll lay the dastard low ; '11 beard the lion in his den, my sword's good temper show. f Up, faithful followers, in might, you have been always true ; Ve'll teach the villains how to fight, and teach them dying, too. ?oo long, my friends, your weapons rust ; now lay your lances bare ; ly arm will lead — our cause is just, we have no other care. ' The pride of old Llewellyn Hall we'll trample in the dust. .^o arms ! To arms ! nor fear to fall ; in heaven we place our trust. Vithout the noise of horn or drum, or any word to me, ilewellyn's clan has basely come and stole young Cordelie." ?he morrow came, saw hosts arrayed ; on each side spears were bright, ilach man would scorn the word ' ' afraid," each felt he championed right. ^nd foremost of the clans there came the leaders, strong and brave, Co win by prowess living fame, or fill a soldier's grave. 'Yield thee, Llewellyn ; Cordelie is master here to-day; n faith I'll bring thee to thy knee, in this ungodly fray. Deliver up my child, and then you may have life and land ; Refusing, thou art curst of men, a victim to my hand." Thus spoke the chieftain, Cordelie, and bared his shining sword ; mulewellyn laughed right merrily, but answered not a word. ' Dost thou not speak ? where is my child ? " the chieftain asked once more ; Sis words were fierce, his heart was wild, and once again he swore : 'By all that's great in heaven above, thy life is mine to-day ; k. husband's faith, a father's love, compel my hand to slay ; 8ut, as I hope in dying hour for mercy from my God, if thou dost yield my child, my power will never stain this sod. 170 WERNER'S READINGS " But if thou dost refuse to yield, my vengeance sure will fall ; I'll stain the verdure of this field — I'll shed the blood of all." Llewellyn dryly smiled, and said, and saying bent him low : " I know not how to feel afraid, nor how to fear a blow. " Llewellyn's lances are all bared to stain with blood this clay ; And he has come full weli prepared to win the fight to-day. But, as I hope for mercy's plan my faults to full atone, I hid thee meet me, man to man, and try results alone." And turning to his men he said : " Prepare to leave the field ; Obey my orders — 1 am head — to me alone you yield. Trust to Llewellyn's lance to right the wrong that is his own ; Or by this sword I'll change the fight, to guard my rival's throne.'' Then Cordelie addressed his men : " Leave this fair cause to me. This hour the green and smiling glen the next hour red must be.* Up, smiling, came brave Cordelie, and showed his glittering steel " Thy words, Llewellyn, say to me they are the thoughts you feel. " Defend Llewellyn's name and dower, for, by my son's sad fate, This steel will find thy soul this hour, fresh whetted by my hate. Come on ! " and with the words the crash of steel, the sparks appear In living flame, as lightnings flash in summer-time of year. Stroke followed stroke, and gash on gash — Llewellyn's on his knee ! But still their steels' good temper flash pure liquid fire, a sea. " Yield thee, Llewellyn, to thy fate, and yield my son to me, Yield ere it come to be too late." " I never yield," quoth he. And saying this, with giant strength he made a horrid thrust ; It reached the heart of Cordelie, who now must bite the dust, And bending o'er the prostrate form, he raised the drooping head Of him whose life-blood still was warm, but soon he must be dead. " Cordelie ! brave Cordelie, would that we never met, Rest thy faint head upon my knee, thine eye's bright lustre's set. AND RECITATIONS. 171 Thou wast too brave, too wild, too rash, too fond of war's false charms ; Too dearly didst thou love the child now in his mother's arms." My child V s gasped sinking Cordelie, " My dear boy safe ! depart ! i And bring him quickly here to me to press him to my heart ; To print my lips upon his cheek, and see his lustrous eye To feel his breath and hear him speak, and bless him ere I die. \* You took my child, Llewellyn ? " " No. It was not willed by me As I live, and must one day go to judgment, Cordelie ! " "How came it then?" "A stupid guide mistook his will for mine ; The wretch robbed us of our pride, mistook my hall for thine." " Llewellyn, I forgive thee now ; and ask thee to forgive ; Take back this hair, it suits thy brow ; and live, Llewellyn, live I" "What hair, in God's dear name?" "'Tis here: in the dog's mouth 'twas found, Held tight, torn from your beard, that's clear ; dead the brute lay on th' ground." "It is not mine, that grizzly hair," amazed, Llewellyn said. [' I saved thy child from death, I swear ! The good dog died instead ; In horrid, ghastly, deathly strife, thy mastiff and a bear ; r The latter fought to take a life, the former fought to spare. " With deadly aim my arrow sought the beast's protruding head; The noble mastiff at his throat received the shaft instead, And in his mouth that bunch of hair, plucked from the savage beast, Which safely sought its distant lair ; to live, the dog had ceased." " God ! with grief my heart is wild ; what ails my throat ? 'tis well! My love to fair Cordelia, and to my child ! farewell ! " " Farewell ! farewell, my honest friend, a long and last farewell ! May heaven bless your nearing end, again farewell ! farewell J " ITS V/ERNER'S READINGS LONG AGO. LIBBIE C. BAER. O N her lap gran'ma did hoi* me, Smoothed my apron down — jes' so ; Had me fol' my ban's, then tol' me — She's a May queen — long ago; Wen they had May queens, you know, Long ago, long, l-o n-g ago. Grandma's hair is thin, an' so white, An' her face is — puckered so; But she's sweeter, by ennff sight, Than some younger folks I know. Don't you see how dandeli'ns blow — ■ Turn their gold all into snow ? Gran'ma's hair — it done jes' so, Long ago, long, 1-o-n-g ago. Hair wuz golden, like the sunlight, Eyes wuz blue, an' cheeks wuz red ; An' her skin wuz smooth an' so white— That is jes' w'at gran'ma said. All in white from tip to toe, She was May queen, long ago, Long ago, long, 1-o-n-g ago. Jes' like fairies in green bowers, Singin', dancin' on the green, Pickin' out the brightest flowers Fur to deck their little queen. Lads and lassies, round they go, Dancin', singin', bowin' low, Long ago, long, 1-o-n-g ago. AND RECITATIONS. 1?3 Gran'ma stops. " I'm tired," says she ; " Now go away, dearie." An' I go — But it's queer w'at she can see now, Lookin' far off an' sighin' so ; An' I hear her whisperin' low : " Polly, Betsey, John an' Jo ; Gone, all gone, so long ago, Long ago, long, 1-o-n-g ago." RESCUED. T OW hang the clouds like a threatening pall, -*-^ While now and then large raindrops fall, The wild wind whistles through the trees, Stripped of their leaves by the autumn breeze, And soughs ; the echoes of the distant storm Sound 'midst the oak-trees' rough, gaunt form. The stream, which through the summer's day Babbled and leaped, as a child at play, Now fiercely swollen, rushes down, With headlong haste and sullen frown, Bearing upon its foam-flecked breast The signs of turmoil and unrest. Hark ! What was that ? A plaintive cry ! A figure outlined on the sky, A girlish form ! What brings her here, Far from her home and friends so dear ? See how with straining eyes she peers, Those eyes so bright, now dimmed by tears, Into the muddy vortex, where A shapeless mass drifts here and there ! IU WERNER'S READINGS Who does not know what 'tis to lose A long-loved friend ? What grief ensues, What sorrow, aye, what bitter pain, Wells forth when snaps life's fragile chain ! Anguish like this must surely now Cause those hot tears which wring her brow, As standing by the river's brink, She sees that loved form rise and sink. Ah, heavens ! 'Tis gone ! Can no one save Or help ? A plunge beneath the wave ! A brave heart battling with the stream ! Safe ! safe at last ! She gives one scream Of wild delight, and runs to pat Her dog for fetching out her — hat. THANKSGIVING EVE. A TEUE INCIDENT. *1 |~AND in hand, through the city streets, -* — *- As the chilly November twilight fell, Two childish figures walked up and down — The bootblack Teddie, and his sister Nell. With wistful eyes they peer in the shops, Where dazzling lights from the windows shine On golden products from farm and field, And luscious fruits from every clime. Teddie," said Nell, "let's play for to-morrow These things are ours, and let's suppose We can choose whatever we want to eat ; It might come true, perhaps, who knows ? " AND RECITATIONS. 175 Two pinched little faces press the pane, And eagerly plan for the morrow's feast Of dainties their lips will never touch, Forgetting their hunger, awhile, at least. The pavement was cold for shoeless feet ; Ted's jacket was thin ; he shivered and said, " Let's go to a place and choose some clothes." "Agreed !" said Nell, and away they sped, To a furrier's shop ablaze with light, In its fancied warmth they place their hands, And play their scanty garments are changed For softest fur from far-off lands. " A grand Thanksgiving we'll have !" cried Nell, "These make-believe things seem almost true; I've 'most forgot how hungry I was, And, Teddy, I'm almost warm, aren't you ?" happy hearts that rejoice to-day, In all the bounty the season brings, Have pity on those who vainly strive To be warmed and fed by imaginings ! THE SONG OF THE WIND. T'VE a great deal to do, a great deal to do ; ■ Don't speak to me, children, I pray ; These little boys' hats must be blown off their heads, And the little girls' bonnets away. There are bushels of apples to gather to-day, And oh, there's no end to the nuts ! O'er many long roads I must travel away, And many by-lanes and short cuts. 176 WERNER'S READINGS There are thousands of leaves lying lazily here That needs must be whirled round and round ! A rickety house wants to see me, I know, In the most distant part of the town. There are signs to be creaked, and doors to be slammed, Loose window blinds, too, must be shaken ! ^ hen you know all the business I must do to-day, You will see how much trouble I've taken. I saw some ships leaving the harbor to-day So I'll e'en go and help them along, And flap the white sails, and howl through the shrouds, And join in the sailor-boys' song. Then I'll mount to the clouds, and away they will sail On their gorgeous wings through the bright sky ; I bow to no mandate save only to Him Who reigneth in glory on high. THE WRECK OF THE SOLENT. Fkedekic Lyster. rpHE wild winds raved, the tempest roared, the waves rolled -*- mountains high — It seemed to every soul on board as though earth, sea, and sky In one commingled mass were blent and welded by the gale ; Save when the quivering lightning rent the darkness, as a veil. Our boats were gone, and one by one, the men swept from the wheel; On beam-end thrown, we lay alone off Kingsdowne,. iiard by Deal. . ;,,-,. AND RECITATIONS. 177 A dull, deep thud ! a stifled roar, a crushing, tearing grind, A shock — a crash ! The ship's ashore. A prey to waves and wind. The seas break o'er her fore and aft, the decks are swept quite clear ; No planks nor spars to build a raft are left — we shrink with fear. The lightning's flash, the thunder's crash shakes her from truck to keel ; The waves tumultuous splash and dash — off Kingsdowne, hard by Deal. We were just forty souls and seven, both passengers and crew ; With cries for help we weary heaven, no help appears in view ; "We cling to ropes along the deck, and strain our aching sight Through fog and mist — a helpless wreck the good ship lay that night. A tiny spark glints through the dark, we watch it roll and reel, ' The life-boat's out ! " we wildly shout, from Kingsdowne, hard by Deal. Now poised upon the billow's crest, now whelmed in the deep, She struggles on — no pause, no rest, she climbs the wat'ry steep. She nears, but cannot make us, the current runs so sore ; Must death, then, overtake us, so near our native shore ? Aboard that boat — could we but float a line — hearts true as steel, "Wait us to save from wat'ry grave, off Kingsdowne, hard by Deal. Of all the dunnage round the deck naught is there left save one Old anchor buoy, itself a wreck, with honest service done. The mate he hitched it to a rope and hove it o'er the side ; God help us — 'tis our only hope, may He its course now guide. It nears them — nay, 'tis swept away, again the line we reel — Again 'tis cast, our hearts beat fast, off Kingsdowne, hard- by Deal. 178 WERNER'S READINGS Twice has the old float missed its mark, twice was it hurled away, Twice have we lost it in the dark, twice by the ghastly ray Of bluelight, burnt aboard that barque, we watched it whelmed and whirled, Our refuge sole, our only ark of safety in this world. See ! see ! 'tis caught — fast round the thwart 'tis hitched — a joyous peal, A clamorous shout rings wildly out, off Kingsdowne, hard by Deal. God bless the life-boat and its crew, its coxswain brave and old ! And Jarvis Arnold is his name, sprung from those vikings bold, Who made the land and sea their slaves, as likewise we do too. While still Britannia rules the waves and the stormy winds do blow, And that old cork float that safety brought we'll hold in honor leal, And it shall grace the chiefest place in Kingsdowne, hard by Deal. WHAT IS TO-MORROW ? A BRIGHT little boy with laughing face, Whose every motion was full of grace, Who knew no trouble and feared no care, Was the light of our household — the youngest there. He was too young — this little elf — With troublesome questions to vex himself ; But for many days a thought would rise And bring a shade to the dancing eyes. He went to one whom he thought more wise Than any other beneath the skies, " Mother," — word that makes the home ! — f* Tell me, when will to-morrow come ? " AND RECITATIONS. 179 " It is almost night," the mother said, " And time for my boy to be in bed ; te When you wake up and it's day again, It will be to-morrow, my darling, then." The little boy slept through all the night, But woke with the first red streak of light ; He pressed a kiss on his mother's brow, And whispered, "Is it to-morrow now ?". "■ No, little Eddie, this is to-day ; To-morrow is always one night away." He pondered awhile, but joys came fast, And this vexing question quickly passed. But it came again with the shades of night ; " Will it be to-morrow when it is light ?" From years to come he seemed care to borrow, He tried so hard to catch to-morrow. " You cannot catch it, my dear little Ted ; Enjoy to-day," the mother said ; " Some wait for to-morrow through many a year- It always is coming, but never is here." CHRISTMAS FLOWERS. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTEH. rpHE earth is so bleak and deserted, -*- So cold the winds blow, That no bud or no blossom will venture To peep from below ; But, longing for springtime, they nestle Deep under the snow. 180 WERNER'S READINGS Oh, in May how we honored Our Lady, Her own month of flowers ! How happy we were with our garlands Through all the spring hours! All her shrines in the church by the wayside, Were made into bowers. And in August — her glorious Assumption — What feast was so bright ! What clusters of virginal lilies, So pure and so white ! Why, the incense could scarce overpower Their perfume that night. And through her dear feasts of October The roses bloomed still ; Our baskets were laden with flowers, Her vases to fill — Oleanders, geraniums and myrtles, We chose at our will. And we know when the Purification, Her first feast, comes round, The early spring flowers to greet it, Just opening are found ; And pure, white and spotless, the snowdrop Will pierce the dark ground. And now in this dreary December, Our glad hearts are fain To see if earth comes not to help us ; We seek all in vain ; Not the tiniest blossom is coming Till spring breathes again. And the bright feast of Christmas is dawning, And Mary is blest ; AND RECITATIONS. 181 For now she will give us her Jesus, Our Dearest, our Best, And see where she stands, the Maid-Mother, Her Babe on her breast ! And not one poor garland to give her, And yet now behold How the kings bring their gifts — myrrh and incense.. And bars of pure gold ; And the shepherds have brought for the Baby Some lambs from their fold. He stretches His tiny hands toward us, He brings us all grace ; And look at His Mother who holds Him — The smile on her face Says they welcome the humblest gifts In the manger we place. Where love takes let love give, and so doubt not; Love counts but the will, And the heart has its flowers of devotion No winter can chill ; They who cared for "good-will" that first Christina* Will care for it still. In the chaplet on Jesus and Mary, From our hearts let us call ; At each Ave Maria we whisper A rosebud shall fall, And at each Gloria Patri a lily, The crown of them all ! 182 WERNER'S READINGS MADONNA AT PALOS. MABEL E. HUGHES. [The Publishers of this book have Issued "Madonna at Palos" arranged as a musical recitation, in sheet music form, with a specially designed title- page. Price, $.60.] IN the grand old city of Palos There was building a mansion fair, And artists and painters and sculptors Were fashioning beauties rare, While each seemed to vie with the others To see what most beautiful thing Could be painted or carved by the workmen, In nave and chapel and wing. One day in the midst of the building, There came to that temple door An aged and infirm painter Who was homeless and friendless and poor; And he begged of the master-builder That he give him some painting to do, He cared not where in the building, He cared not if hidden from view. "O master," he tremblingly pleaded, "I ask not a great boon from you, I only crave some little corner Where I my painting may do. 'Tis long since my hands have touched canvas, But, master, you need have no fear That I will blemish its beauty, Ah, no ! I would prize it too dear." But the old master shrugged his broad shoulders. "We have workmen enough," said he, "And their work we have often tested, — I have need of none like thee," AND RECITATIONS 183 The old man stood in silence, Then, "O master, for love of God, Give me some little spot for my painting, For this many a mile I've trod. "O master, I lay as if dying, And I prayed to the One I adore, That she plead with the life-giving Saviour To spare me to paint just once more; And I promised that if in His wisdom He would give me my life again, I would use all my powers for the glory Of the most holy cause among men. "And one night in the midst of my slumbers, I thought that I heard a sweet voice That bade me no longer be mournful, But in the sweet Virgin rejoice; - For, in a neighboring country, Was the city of Palos, where There was building for her a temple, And I might work for her there. "So quickly I rose up and hastened To the city of which I was told, E'en unto your city of Palos, Your beautiful city so old. So, master, you see why I beg you To grant me the little I ask, To accomplish my vow to the Mother, — • I implore you to give me this task." So, up in the darkest corner, Almost out of the light of day, He was given a piece of canvas That the artists had cast away. Here from earliest dawn of morning, Here till fall of the shades of night, He plied his brush on the canvas, As long as the sun gave light. 184 WBRNBR'S READINGS At last, his loved labor was finished, The painting was now complete, And, behold ! on the canvas was pictured The face of the Virgin sweet. As the vesper-bells slowly were chiming, The old man knelt humbly in prayer, To ask of the Holy Mother That she bless his labors there, That great good might be done to some sinner Who had wandered out into the cold, That his picture might draw one to heaven, Safe back to the heavenly fold. Then he lifted his eyes to the painting. W^hat was it that held his .gaze there ? Was this but a manifestation, That she quickly would answer his prayer? For the work that was shrouded in darkness In the corner of deepest gloom Now shone with a wonderful beauty Whose radiance filled the room. And the face that so long was hidden Seemed to smile on the artist there, As a beam from the sun's dying glory Lit the labor of love so fair. As he saw on the face of the painting The sun resting soft on her brow, He cried: "O thou beautiful Mother, I could die, if thou wilt, even now; For I know that my prayer will be answered, That some little good will be done, Some wanderer brought to repentance, Brought back safe to Thee and thy Son." Again 'tis the hour for the vespers. A heartbroken woman comes in To pray to the Holy Mother To help her forget the sin AND RECITATIONS 185 And the troubles and sad affliction, The sorrow and pain and care That pursue her from morning till evening, Follow her everywhere. For the boy of her hopes and ambitions, The boy of her love and her prayer, Had wandered away from the hearthstone, Had drifted away from her care; And his mother had prayed and had pleaded, But her pleadings had all been in vain, For he turned a deaf ear when she censured, And left her sad heart still in pain. Her heart-strings were now almost breaking, As she entered the temple of love, And she sat down close inside the portals, And lifting her eyes up above, She saw there the face of the painting, As the sun rested soft on her brow, And the lips seemed to smile on the listener, As she said in a voice sweet and low : "O Mary, thou mother of Jesus, Thy Son was all righteous and true, But mine, O most merciful mother, I come to seek comfort from you, For my heart-strings are now almost breaking With grief that is fearful to bear ! O thou beautiful mother of Jesus, Do help me ! I almost despair !" As she thus sadly prayed to the Virgin The vesper-chimes slowly were rung, And the hymn to the holy Madonna, The song to Our Lady, was sung. Still the light rested soft on the painting As the low, sweet melody fell, And the lips of the mother seemed saying: "Weep not, for all yet will be well." 186 WBRNER'S READINGS Years passed ; and again on one evening A stranger passed in through those doors. On his face were large scars and deep wrinkles That told not of honor in wars. They told not of triumph in battle, But of crime, dissipation and sin, And he bent his head low as he entered, And sighed for what ought to have been. He sat down close inside the portals, Led there by — he could not tell what, But some irresistible impulse Had drawn him to-night to that spot. ' He lifted his eyes to the Virgin, As the sun lay in peace on her face, And he dropped in a seat as if stricken By a hand, though unseen in the place. For the face made him think of his mother, That mother whose pleading he'd spurned' And now she had passed on to heaven, To the glory she truly had earned. As he sat there and gazed at the painting, He remembered all she had said, And his eyes, which so long had been tearless, Were filled as he thought of her dead. Quickly down on his knees went that culprit, And he prayed, as he never had done, That the Virgin would make intercession For him to her pardoning Son ; And the choir in heaven was singing Their hymns of thanksgiving and praise For the one guilty sinner who'd severed His life from his old wicked ways. But the choir in the temple was singing Their hymn to the Virgin again, And it swelled and rolled out in its fulness As if angels had joined the refrain. ARTISTIC WORK ...AND... GYMNASTIC GAMES By H. S. ANDERSON and STANLEY SCHELL A Book of Physical Culture Training, with or without Apparatus, for Class Work t?" Exhibition Purposes Single or Combination Work with Barbells, Dumb- bells, Hoops, Poles. Rings, Sword Salutes, Wands ...ALSO... Outline Program for Three W r eeks' Course in Physical Culture ...ALSO... DRILLS with Barbells, Bells and Wands, Dumb- bells, Hoops, Poles, Rings, Swords, Wands ...ALSO... GYMNASTIC GAMES-Aiming at dubs, Ball Tag, Basket-Bali for Women, Battledore, Cat and Mouse, Circle Ball, Club Game, Corner Ball, Dodge Ball, Dumbell Race, Feather-Ball, Follow the Leader, Human Burden Race, Jump the Rope, Medicine-Ball, Medicine-Ball Tag, Pass Ball, Prisoner's Base, Punch-Ball, Race Running, Running through Hoops, Shot Bag, Snatch the Handkerchief, Two-Deep Tag. 5^ Illustrations from Photographs from Life and Diagrams ARTISTIC CLOTH BINDING. $1.25 POSTPAID tm K ■-*>»■ • Send Direct to the Publishers EDGAR S. WERNER & CO. 1 1 East Fourteenth Street, :: New York