WERNER READINGS AND RECITATIONS 
 NO. 30 
 
 Elocutionary studies 
 by- 
 Mrs. Anna T. Diehl 
 
 
 UfcflfT UUBiH Wi* 
 
 Edgar S. Werner & company- 
 New York 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/elocutionarystud30rand 
 
A ' 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 . 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Preface v 
 
 Hints for Study vii 
 
 Alice Ayres. — Emilia Aylmer Blake 14 
 
 Barnyard Melodies. — Fred Emerson Brooks 163 
 
 Bonny Wee Hoose, The.— William Lyle 142 
 
 Brothers, The.— Marietta Holley 11 
 
 Burgomaster's Death, The, adapted from "The Bells " (with direc- 
 tions).— Thomas F. Wilford 32 
 
 Burning Ship, The, from "Onnalinda" (with analysis). — J. H. Mc- 
 
 Naughten 1 
 
 Chant of the Cross-Bearing Child, The —James Whitcomb Riley . 88 
 
 Charlie. — Fanny Foster Clark . 64 
 
 Children of the Bonnet Rouge. — Victor Hugo 131 
 
 Christmas Gift, A.— David L Proudfit Ill 
 
 Coal Digger, The.— Jessie F. O'Donnell 183 
 
 Corpse's Husband, The (with directions) 30 
 
 Coupon Bonds.— J. T. Trowbridge 147 
 
 Courtships of Adolphus McDuff, The 25 
 
 Dandelion and Clover-Top.— May Riley Smith 170 
 
 L decoration Day. — Dr. E. P. Thwing 144 
 
 Derby Day. — Fanny Foster Clark ; 168 
 
 Dream of Sister Agnes, The (with analysis) 37 
 
 Easter in a Hospital Bed. — Nym Crinkle 57 
 
 Erl-Konig, The, in German and in English, with history of Schu- 
 bert's composition and its first presentation. (Arranged for 
 
 several readers.)— Mabelle B. Biggart 1^9 
 
 Essay on Necks. — Laura M. Bronson • 108 
 
 Ethan Allen (with analysis). — George Lansing Raymond 48 
 
 Execution of Louis XVI. , The, as played by Ristori 185 
 
 Fate of Mackay, The.— Noah Little 98 
 
 First Snow, The.— Ella Dietz 103 
 
 Fishing (with analysis). — Ella Wheeler Wilcox 42 
 
 Five Little Chickens 125 
 
 Flag at Half Mast, The (with analysis).— Helen M. Cooke 21 
 
 French Ensign, The. — Alphonse Daudet 76 
 
 Fritz.— Anna Randall- Diehl 109 
 
 UPB lawn* »■» 
 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 General Grant's English. — Mark Twain 
 
 Give Me Back My Boy. —Jasper Garnet 
 
 Gypsy Flower Girl, The (with analysis). — Ed. L. McDowell . . 
 
 Hen-Hussey, The 
 
 He Pays License on a Dog 
 
 How Pat Went Courting 
 
 I Wonder What Maud Will Say ?— Samuel Minturn Peck . . . 
 
 "Jefful, The" (with directions). — John Habberton li! 
 
 Juliet. — Louis F. Austin lick 
 
 Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue. — Samuel Minturn Peck . . . . I 
 
 Mental Arithmetic (with directions) 
 
 Mirandy.— Eva Wilder McGlasson 
 
 Mme. Eef U 
 
 Mr. Bowser among the Dressmakers gl- ° 
 
 Mrs. Magoogin on Spring Bonnets and Spring Poetry. — John J, 
 
 Jenkins 4 
 
 Mrs. Piper. — Marian Douglas 19 
 
 Music of Nature, The.— Mary Frost Ormsby 14* 
 
 Out at Sea.— J. S. Fletcher 19 
 
 Owl in Church— Rosa Vertner Jeffrey . 
 
 Parson's Cradle, The. — Anna Randall-Diehl 17 
 
 Path of the Cyclone.— Meta E. B. Thome 17 
 
 Phantom Ball, The. — Rosa Vertner Jeffrey 101 
 
 Pin, A.— Ella Wheeler Wilcox 175,, 
 
 Plighted. A. D. 1887.— Alice Williams Brotherton 129 
 
 Press Evangel, The.— John Boyle O'Reilly . . 61 
 
 Red Bird, The.— William H. Hayne 70 
 
 Rover in Church.— James Buckham 181 
 
 Sale of the Pig— Jessie F. O'Donnell 177 
 
 Sea-side Flirtation, A.— Samuel Minturn Peck 16J^ 
 
 Senator's Grandmother, The. —Patience Stapleton 139 
 
 Soldier's Return, The.— Hudson Tuttle 138 
 
 Spring Poet, The— Hal Berte 97 
 
 Star of Democracy, The (with analysis).— Henry Watterson ... 79 
 
 Stone Cutter, The.— Elizabeth Akers 136 
 
 They Don't Agree 196 
 
 Two Bells.— Rev. J. W. Sanborn 166 
 
 Two Valentines (with analysis).— May Riley Smith - . . 91 
 
 Very Bad Case, A (with directions).— F. H. Stauffer 63 
 
 Voice of the People, The.— James G. Clark 18 
 
 Winnif red, Walter and the W's (with directions) „ 86 
 
 Women of the War.— Annie Thomas 71 
 
HINTS FOR STUDY. 
 
 If you read aloud from the book, make the matter so familiar by 
 lick grasp of subject or profound study that your eyes may not 
 tessarily be glued to the printed page ; in other words, look from 
 J ae book as you read. Practice taking in a long clause with one 
 troke of the eye, then look from the book while uttering the words. 
 8f, our tone is better when the head is erect. There is full play of 
 He vocal organs and the utterance is not cramped. You impress 
 eople more if you look at them when speaking ; and in return you 
 oteive aid and inspiration from your hearers. When the upturned 
 ^es before you show an appreciation of your effort to interest and 
 r^iuse, they make your task easy. The influence of the reader or 
 sator upon his audience is no less than that of the audience upon 
 :n ; it must be reciprocal. 
 
 * Choose your selection for recitation of declamation with a view 
 
 .to its worth, the use you wish to make of it, and the value it will 
 
 be as a study. For recitation, select what is picturesque, dramatic 
 
 <or characteristic in style. You must see, feel or imitate. The- best 
 
 reader photographs the image in his own mind upon the minds of 
 
 ilhis hearers. His own soul is roused to noble purpose before he can 
 
 jji rouse others. In proportion as he loves the good and hates the 
 
 base, will his listeners be moved in like degree. 
 
 Commit to memory the words of the text. Learn the exact 
 language ; in other words, be letter perfect. If you allow yourself to 
 commit in a slip-shod, half-perfect way, you will fall into a vicious 
 'habit which it is almost impossible to break. Take time to be 
 thorough. Itjis only the careless school-boy who attempts to recite 
 a thing the minute it seems to be committed to memory. Nine 
 times out of ten, in such cases, the prompter's aid is required, and 
 i, sometimes even that is not effectual. The novice or amateur takes 
 a much less time to commit and practice a new recitation than a 
 
viii HINTS FOR STUDY. 
 
 professional reader of experience would require. It is only when 
 the words are absolutely yours that you can handle them in expression. 
 When the memory has really received what you have entrusted to 
 her keeping, she will pour it forth at your bidding, and that without 
 spur or cudgel. 
 
 Having learned the words, resolve to make as much of your selec- 
 tion as its worth will warrant. To simply call words, is to read 
 without warmth or color. You cannot afford to do anything poorly. 
 You must study carefully the exact meaning of the text and then 
 decide how you can best elucidate it. To do this you must bring 
 out your scenes and your characters graphically, properly disposing 
 them upon right and left, as you would imagine objects or groups of 
 persons in position. Try to give each character individuality, with- 
 out anything approaching buffoqnry. ' This is done by lights and 
 shades of tone of voice, by variations of emphasis, time, pause and 
 by characteristic expression. 
 
 Fanny Kemble would read a whole play and give every member 
 of the dramatic personage composing it a distinct personality. She 
 was not obliged to announce the names of the characters after their 
 introduction had been made. Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, King 
 Duncan, Banquo and Macduff made their entrances and exits each in 
 proper person. * 
 
 You must understand how to develop the plot ; how to reach the 
 climax and to bring out the moral if there be one, covert or ex- 
 pressed. To be able to do all this well you should, of course, hare 
 elocutionary training. 
 
 Cultivate imagination. The reader is the idealist, par excellence, 
 having no material aid. The actor upon the dramatic or lyric 
 stage has the orchestra, the scenery, the costumes and his associate _ 
 actors ; but the reader creates his stage-settings, conjures up his 
 people and gives them vitality. It is only when they are indelibly 
 fixed in his own mind that he can transfer them to the minds of his 
 hearers. 
 
 When reciting you must forget yourself. You can afford to set 
 your own individuality in the background. There was never a 
 good speaker who was not willing to put himself out of sight. 
 
HINTS FOR STUDY. ix 
 
 Repose of manner must be attained ; not the repose of inaction 
 or inanition, but of self-control. Stand properly. Half the battle 
 is gained when you have the right position upon the feet, and can 
 change the equilibrium at will. Never assume unmeaning attitudes, 
 gestures, tones. Making a queer face, alone, cannot please an 
 intelligent audience. Man is homogeneous in his expression. God 
 has so made the human voice and the human face that they coin- 
 cide, and no tone of voice can be given with an opposite or con- 
 tradictory expression of face. Let the face alone, and the soul 
 behind it will give it the proper expression. 
 
 Do not trust to inspiration at the time of delivery. Have every- 
 thing prepared in advance, so that when the auspicious moment 
 arrives you will not once think of the manner or of what you are 
 doing. It is said that Talma absolutely calculated all effects, 
 leaving nothing to chance, and was so much the master of his 
 dramatic efforts that he could recite the scene between Augustus 
 and Cinna while performing a problem in arithmetic. 
 
 Be superior to moods. It is absurd to say that you cannot 
 control your moods. It is only a weakling who is not superior to a 
 rainy day, an autumnal blast, the heat of summer or the cold of 
 winter. Let not your personal joys or griefs affect your artistic 
 efforts. 
 
 Accept criticism when offered in a kindly spirit. It may or may 
 not be just, and should be most carefully weighed. The writer has 
 received most valuable criticisms from what might have been con- 
 sidered ignoble sources. When studying Bryant's " Robert of 
 Lincoln," I submitted the bird trills to a man who went barefooted 
 all summer, not because he did not have money to buy shoes, but 
 because he considered himself more comfortable without them. He 
 had always lived in the country and knew every -bird by its notes. 
 I could not have had a better judge, for he was able to tell me 
 instantly where my representation was good and where faulty, 
 though he could not have made a tone of the kind himself. 
 
 I was once trying to work up an imitation of the sound of the 
 wind, to be given in Longfellow's " Sunrise at Sea." A young lady 
 was ignorant of my proximity to her, though she was in the range 
 
x HINTS FOR STUDY. 
 
 of my vision and heard my practice. When the sound caught hei 
 ear she listened, seemed surprised ; then she opened the door anc 
 looked out upon the garden where not a zephyr was stirring. She 
 was now completely puzzled, but presently, changing her position, 
 she discovered my presence. " Was that you ? " she cried, running 
 up an octave of surprise on the last word. " Why, I thought it was 
 the wind ; the sun was shining so brightly and the air seemed so 
 quiet that I could not imagine how the wind could be heard." Her 
 mistake gave me positive proof that I was right in practice. 
 
 I once submitted the baby-cry I was trying to get, to Bridget in 
 the kitchen, from whose brawny arms several babies had one by one 
 been taken. " It is a little loike a baby, but more loike a whine of 
 a dog," was the verdict. The next day she said : " Yer gettin' it 
 more loike a baby, mum." How proud I felt of that compliment 
 " Oh, I'd not know it from the cryin' of my own bairn," she said 
 later, and I could scarcely keep from hugging the old creature 
 But when the parrot broke out in imitation of the cry and then 
 added, "Shut up, you brat," I was fairly beside myself with joy. 
 
 Study nature in the kitchen, in the parlor, in the street, on the 
 cars when traveling, everywhere. The book is always open ; learn 
 to read its pages. ' The bugle notes which I heard each night from 
 the fort in my own city, were utilized in Tennyson's " Bugle Song." 
 Bridget, Phillis and Gretchen have proved most excellent teachers, 
 giving me respectively the key to Irish, Negro and German 
 dialects. 
 
 We hear of the decline of interest in elocution, but there is not a 
 word of truth in it. There was never much demand for poor elo- 
 cution, and there is certainly none now. There is no place for 
 mediocrity or charlatanry ; but highest excellence was never more 
 in demand than at the present time. 
 
THE BURNING SHIP. 
 
 J. H. McNaughton. 
 
 We are very fortunate in being able to secure, for publication, this stirring 
 extract from the new Indian romance in verse, " Onnaliada." The best 
 papers of England and Scotland have given the most unqualified praise to " Onna- 
 linda," and it has been recited, in abridged iorm, by some of the best readers of 
 America. Only an edition de luxe, costing $100, has been published in this 
 country. We shall hail with pleasure the lower-priced edition which is promised. 
 The author kindly furnished the following explanation of the extract here given: 
 
 ' The incident is this : The princess, Onnalinda, by her fascinating 
 beauty, had won from the ranks of her enemies the chivalrous Captain 
 Eben Stark. His devotion led him frequently within the enemy's 
 lines. One night, during one of these clandestine wanderings, his 
 comrades made the camp merry with jest and joke over the impas- 
 sioned captain. Ronald Kent (the captain's bosom friend), vexed 
 with their raillery, and to convince them that " the loving are the 
 daring," recited this ballad ; but first he gave them this indignant 
 rebuke : 
 
 L700LS ! for ye know not what ye say. 
 
 1 One glance of his in battle-fray 
 
 Will keener pierce by simple threats 
 
 Than all your swords and bayonets ! 
 
 ' Timid?' say tender. Had ye known 
 
 What I have seen, when he alone 
 
 (Of all a shrieking multitude) 
 
 'Twixt Innocence and Horror stood, — 
 
 Varlets ! ye had not jested so. 
 
 Your jests are. gross, — give me your ears, 
 
 Your quips, perchance, will end in tears ; 
 
 I tell no ballad coarse and stale ; 
 
 'Tis new as true my simple tale." 
 Their sparkling mirth they ceased anon, 
 And their eyes grew moist as the tale went on : 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 I. 
 
 'Twas off the coast of Scarboro' 
 
 In sixteen eighty-three ; 
 An April night fell lowering 
 
 Upon an angry sea. 
 And on the heights above the town 
 Was many a watcher gazing down, 
 And murmuring with a shrug and frown: 
 
 "A woeful night 'twill be ! " 
 
 II. 
 
 The wind across the surges 
 
 Came howling to the land; 
 In foaming wrath the breakers 
 
 Came bounding on the strand; 
 When with a voice from turret high 
 Sounded aloud that startled cry : 
 "A wreck ! a wreck! — Shoremen, ahoy! 
 
 She's plunging for the land ! " 
 
 III. 
 Down from the heights went skurrying 
 
 The wreckers to the shore, 
 And women wild, who seaward smiled 
 
 Hopeful an hour before ! 
 The ship — great God! — in flames her prow!- 
 The flames are bursting from her bow ! 
 She speeds full sail ! — 
 
 Thank Heaven, the gale 
 
 Is blowing to the shore ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Red are the waves before her — 
 Each crest a flaming brand — 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 » 
 With tongues of wrath and fiery breath 
 
 She leaps toward the strand ! 
 "Ahoy ! ahoy ! ' : — the trumpet rings — 
 See ! on the hidden reef she springs ! 
 To rock she clings, — 
 
 On rock she swings 
 Her larboard to the land. 
 
 A thousand shrieks of terror 
 
 Arise from ship and shore ! 
 " Launch ! launch the boats ! " — the trumpet notes 
 
 Blare out above the roar. 
 But every boat, from beach or deck, 
 Like shells the breakers crush and wreck. 
 Stranded she stood . . . 
 
 In fire and flood . . . 
 
 But a hundred yards from shore. 
 
 VI. 
 Down to the beach a stranger 
 
 Stept calmly thro' the crowd ; 
 He doffed his cloak, and up he spoke 
 
 With startling voice and loud : 
 " Come on with me, the bravest three ! . . ." 
 
 (In yawl they plunged into the sea.) 
 " Give me the rope ! — 
 
 Cowards are we, 
 
 To cringe at watery shroud ? " 
 
 VII. 
 
 Athwart the breakers plunging 
 
 Went gallant men and yawl ; 
 A rope they bore, the coil on shore 
 
 Trailed out with snaky crawl. 
 Behold ! they sink ! — 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 A mountain wave 
 Buries them deep in yawning grave ! 
 A shriek ! a wail from women pale 
 The bravest souls appall. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Up ! see ! — the dauntless heroes 
 
 Upon the surges rise ! 
 " Praise God ! " a shout from ship and shore 
 
 Breaks upward to the skies. 
 " Courage ! " — peals out that stranger's shout, — 
 He strikes.the wreck . . . 
 
 He leaps on deck . . . 
 His rope ties fast to mizzen mast, 
 
 And, " Down the rope /" he cries. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Swift, one by one, like pigeons 
 
 From startled cote, they pour — > 
 They glide on rope through breakers 
 
 Hand over hand to shore . . . 
 The flames ! the flames ! 
 
 With hiss and gnash 
 Sternward their tongues of fire they flash, 
 And on the flames the surges dash 
 
 With seething shriek and roar ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The last man's o'er the taffrail — 
 
 Alone the stranger . . . No ! 
 Horrors ! — up from the hatchway 
 
 A woman from below ! — 
 Clasping her child, in terror wild 
 Shrieking : 
 
 " O God ! my child » my child ! H 
 To the stranger's breast her babe she prest 
 
 Jn agony of woe. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Tho' singed with fire that hero 
 
 To his breast the babe he bound ; 
 Then to the sea leapt mother and he — 
 
 She clasping him around. 
 Now on the rope, hand over hand, 
 Thro' breakers plunging for the strand — 
 " Hold to the rope ! it burns ! " — 
 From land 
 Rings out the trumpet-sound. 
 
 XII. 
 A shuddering cry uprises 
 
 From thousands on the lee — 
 The rope it parts, and, flaming, darts 
 . And hisses in the sea ! 
 " Hold to the rope ! " 
 
 Alas ! a wave 
 O'erwhelms him deep — that hero brave ! 
 Down, down, they sink into that grave — 
 The mother, babe, and he. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 There is a sudden silence 
 
 Hushes the land in awe, 
 As over the sands a hundred hands 
 
 That willing rope they draw . . . 
 " Praise God, the Lord ! " 
 
 Bursts sudden cry 
 From thousand voices raised on high . . . 
 See ! on the land, above the strand, 
 Silent and pale they lie ! 
 
 XIV. 
 In fixed grasp that hero 
 The rope still firmly holds ! 
 
ELOC UTJONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 And firm his teeth with clench of death 
 
 That mother's sleeve enfolds ! 
 Oh, fearful sight ! — more rueful seem 
 Those faces in the lurid gleam . . . 
 But — hark ! he speaks ! 
 
 He stirs ! he wakes! 
 He starts as from a dream ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 And the mother's lips are quivering 
 
 As if to speak . . . and hark ! 
 She calls her child . . . she gazes wild 
 
 Toward the burning barque. 
 The stranger smiled ; unbound his breast . .. 
 The babe lay smiling in its nest ! 
 The mother shrieked in rapture wild : 
 "My child! my child ! — 
 
 Thank God ! my child ! " 
 
 XVI. 
 The multitude came surging, 
 
 And round that stranger prest, — 
 With prayer and cry that reached the sky 
 
 That hero brave they blest. 
 But not a word the stranger spoke . . . 
 He calmly smiled, — 
 
 He donned his cloak, 
 And, oowing, vanished in the dark . . . 
 ''- Who was the hero? "... Eben Stark ! 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE BURNING SHIP. 
 
 p, /Town, Scarboro (pronounced Skar'-bro) ; 
 ( Country, England. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 7 
 
 C The stranger, Captain Eben Stark ; Mother ; 
 
 , Child ; Watchers : Wreckers ; Women ; 
 
 Persons represented <j Three assistants of Eben Stark; People 
 
 / upon the ship ; The multitude on shore. 
 Time — Month, April ; Year, 1683. 
 
 All words of value are made more or less emphatic. Imagine 
 that they constitute the answers to a series of questions running 
 through the entire composition. Speak the words as if in reply to 
 these questions, and you will fully express the meaning of the text. 
 
 I. 
 
 Where is the scene of this poem laid ? In " Scarboro." 
 
 When ? " In sixteen eighty-three." 
 
 How is the night described ? As an " April" night. 
 
 How did the night fall ? " Lowering." 
 
 Where ? Upon a " sea." 
 
 What kind of a sea ? An " angry " sea. 
 
 Who was gazing down ? " Many a watcher." 
 
 Whence ? From " heights." 
 
 Where ? " Above the town." — (A parenthetic expression.) 
 
 What were the watchers doing beside gazing ? " Murmuring." 
 
 How ? With " shrug and frown." 
 
 What did they say? " A woeful night 't will be." 
 
 What kind of a night ? " Woeful." 
 
 i 
 
 11. 
 
 How did the wind come ? "Howling." 
 
 Whence ? " Across the surges." 
 
 Where? "To the land." 
 
 How did breakers come ? " Bounding." 
 
 Where? "On the strand." 
 
 How? " Foaming." 
 
 Whence came voice ? "Turret high." 
 
 What did the voice do ? Sounded cry. 
 
 What was said ? "A wreck ! A wreck ! Shoremen, ahoy ! * 
 
 How is the wreck described ? As "plunging for the land." 
 
 III. 
 Who came from the heights? " The wreckers." 
 How did they come ? " Skurrying." 
 Where did they go ? " To the shore." 
 
8 ■ ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Who else went to the shore ? " Women." 
 How did these women smile an hour before ? " Hopeful." 
 Attention is called to what ? " The ship." 
 What is the matter with her ? Her prow is in flames. 
 What else ? "The flames are bursting from her bow." 
 How does she go ? " She speeds full sail." 
 
 What one thing is favorable ? " The gale is blowing to the 
 shore." 
 
 IV. 
 
 What are red ? " The waves." 
 How are waves described ? They are "red." 
 Each crest is like what ? "A flaming brand." 
 What does the vessel do ? " She leaps toward the strand." 
 What does the trumpet ring ? The words "Ahoy ! ahoy ! " 
 What next is done by the vessel ? She springs on a hidden 
 reef — she clings to a rock — she swings on the rock ! 
 How does she lie ? " Her larboard to the land." 
 
 V. 
 
 What arise ? " Shrieks of terror." 
 
 How many? "A thousand." 
 
 Whence ? " From ship and shore." 
 
 What do the trumpet notes blare out ? " Launch, launch the 
 boats." 
 
 What happened to every boat ? It was crushed and wrecked 
 by the breakers. 
 
 How ? " Like shells." 
 
 What was now the situation of the vessel ? It was stranded. 
 
 How ? " In fire and flood." 
 
 Where ? " But a hundred yards from shore." 
 
 VI. 
 
 What happened then? A stranger stept through the crowd, 
 
 down to the beach. 
 
 What did he do ? " He doffed his cloak." 
 
 How did he speak ? " With startling voice and loud." 
 
 What did he say ? " Come on with me the bravest three." 
 
 What did they do ? Plunged into the sea in a yawl. 
 
 What else did the stranger say ? " Give me the rope." " We are 
 
 cowards to cringe at watery shroud." 
 
EL C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 9 
 
 VII. 
 
 Where did the gallant men and yawl go ? " Plunging athwart 
 the breakers." 
 
 What did they carry ? "A rope." 
 
 Where was the coil ? " On shore." 
 
 How did the rope trail out ? " With snaky crawl." 
 
 What happens to the men ? " They sink." 
 
 What then occurs ? "A wave buries them." 
 
 How? ".Deep." 
 
 What kind of a wave ? "A mountain wave." 
 
 Buries them where ? " In (a) grave." 
 
 What kind of a grave ? " In yawning grave." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 What is seen ? " The dauntless heroes upon the surges rise." 
 
 What shout goes up from ship and shore ? " Praise God." 
 
 What does the stranger shout ? " Courage." 
 
 What does he do ? " He strikes the wreck — he leaps on deck," 
 he ties his rope to the mizzen mast. 
 
 What is his command to the people on the ship ? " Down the 
 rope." 
 
 IX. 
 
 What is done ? They pour from the ship, they glide on the 
 rope to the shore. 
 
 How ? " Hand over hand. " 
 
 Where do they glide ? "Through (the) breakers." 
 
 How do the flames flash ? " With hiss and gnash." 
 
 Where ? " Sternward." 
 
 What dashes on the flames ? " The surges." 
 
 How ? " With seething shriek and roar." 
 
 X. 
 
 What of the stranger ? He is alone on the ship. 
 
 Is this true ? " No." 
 
 Who is seen ? "A woman." 
 
 Whence does she come ? " Up from the hatchway." 
 
 What is she doing ? " Clasping her child " 
 
 How ? " In terror wild." 
 
 What does she shriek ? " O God ! my child ! my child !" 
 
 What did she do ? Prest her babe to the stranger's breast. 
 
i o ELOC UTIONA R Y STUDIES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 What did the hero do ? " He bound the babe to his breast." 
 
 What then followed ? The mother and he leaped into the sea. 
 
 How was the woman saved from drowning ? By "clasping him 
 around." 
 
 How do they go? "On the rope, hand over hand," plunging 
 through the breakers. 
 
 What happens to the end of the rope which is fastened to the 
 ship ? " It burns." 
 
 XII. 
 
 What is the consequence ? " It parts, and darts and hisses in 
 
 the sea." 
 
 What do they cry out from the land ? " Hold to the rope." 
 What next happens ? "A wave o'erwhelms that hero brave," 
 
 and the mother, babe and he sink into the grave made by it. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What is the effect upon the people ? "A sudden silence hushes 
 the land in awe." 
 
 What is done by a hundred hands ? They draw the rope. 
 What cry bursts out ? " Praise God, the Lord." 
 From whom ? A " thousand voices." 
 What is the reason of this cry ? 
 
 " See ! on the land, above the strand, 
 Silent and pale they lie." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 What does the hero still do ? " In fixed grasp (he) firmly holds 
 the rope." 
 
 What else ? He holds that mother's sleeve with his teeth. 
 
 After a little time passes what happens ? " He speaks ! he stirs ! 
 he wakes ! he starts as from a dream !" 
 
 XV. 
 
 What is seen when the mother recovers consciousness? Her 
 "lips are quivering." 
 
 How ? " As if to speak." 
 
 When able to speak what does she do ? Calls for her child. 
 
 What else ? " She gazes toward the burning barque." 
 
 What did the stranger do? He "smiled" and " unbound his 
 breast." 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 1 
 
 What was then seen ? " The babe lay smiling in its nest." 
 What did the mother shriek ? " My child ! my child ! Thank 
 God \ my child." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 What was then done by the multitude ? They " came surging, 
 and round that stranger prest." 
 
 How did they express their approval of his brave deed ? " They 
 blest (him) with prayer and cry that reached the sky." 
 
 Did the stranger answer ? " Not a word." 
 
 What did he do ? He smiled calmly, donned his cloak, bowed 
 and vanished. 
 
 What was the universal question ? Who was the stranger. 
 
 What was the answer ? " Eben Stark." 
 
 THE BROTHERS. 
 
 Marietta Hollev. 
 
 This author is so well known under the pseudonym of " Josiah Allen's Wife " 
 that we have almost grown to think it her real name. While her quaint, humor- 
 ous writings have such a well-merited popularity, her poetry is not much known, 
 and the following will be gladly welcomed. In all her writings beneath irresistible 
 humor or profound pathos there is always the undercurrent of sound sense, the moral 
 or religious lesson. What parson could preach a better sermon than is found in 
 this poem ? The elder brother served God in his cell with vigils, fastings, prayers ; 
 the younger went out into the world and- toiled; he fed the hungry, clothed 
 the naked, and ministered to the sick and dying. When the elder died he had 
 the look of one who through much peril enters into rest, the other as he passed 
 from earth stretched out his hands and with a smile as if his dearest friends were 
 bidding him welcome, cried "Thy face ! thy face ! dear Lord ! " The last stanza 
 is exquisitely beautiful. 
 
 HIGH on a rocky steep did once a gray old castle stand, 
 From whence rough-bearded chieftains led their vassals, ruled 
 the land. 
 For centuries had dwelt here sire and son, till it befell, 
 Last of the ancient line, two brothers here alone did dwell. 
 
 The eldest was stern-visaged, but the vounger smooth and fair 
 Of countenance ; both zealous men who bent the knee in prayer 
 To the one God, loved much, read much His Holy Word, 
 And prayed, above all gifts desired, that they might see their Lord, 
 
12 EL O C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 For this the elder brother carved a silent cell of stone ; 
 Into its empty, dreary depths he entered, dwelt alone, 
 And strove with vigils, fastings, prayers, to purify his gaze, 
 Striving if so he might behold the blessed Master's face. 
 
 And from the love of God that falls on us in bright-lipped flowers, 
 And from the smile of God that falls in sunshine's golden showers, 
 Thrilling Earth's slumbering heart so, where its warm rays fall, 
 That it laughs out in beauty — turned he as from tempters all, 
 
 From bird-song running morn's sweet-scented chalice o'er with cheer, 
 Childhood's light laughter, dear love, lifting lowliest souls to Heaven 
 
 near ; 
 From tears and glad smiles, linked light and gloom of the golden 
 
 day, 
 He, counting them temptations all, austerely turned away. 
 
 And thus he lived alone, unblest, and died, unblest, alone, 
 Save for a brother monk who held the carved cross of stone 
 In the cold, rigid clasp, the while the dying eyes did wear 
 A look of mortal striving, mortal agony and prayer — 
 
 Though at the very last, as the stiff fingers dropped the cross, 
 A gleam as from some distant city swept his face across ; 
 The clay lips settled into calm — this did the monk attest — 
 The look of one who through much peril enters into rest. 
 
 Not thus did he, the younger brother, seek the dear Lord's face, 
 But in Earth's lowliest places did he strive His steps to trace ; 
 Wherever want and grief besought with clamorous complaint, 
 There he beheld his Lord, naked, athirst, and faint. 
 
 And when his hands were wet with tears, wrung with a grateful 
 
 grasp, ' 
 He lightly felt »pon his palm the elder brother's clasp ; 
 And when above the loathsome couch of woe and want knelt he, 
 A low voice thrilled his soul,—" So have ye done it unto Me." 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 13 
 
 Despised he not the mystic ties of bloou, yet did he claim 
 The wider brotherhood, with every race and name ; 
 To his own kin loyal and kind was he in truth, yet still 
 His mother and his brethren were all who did God's will. 
 
 All little ones were dear to him, for light from Paradise 
 
 Seemed falling on him from their pure and innocent eyes ; 
 
 The very flowers that fringed cool streams and gemmed the dewy 
 
 sod, 
 To his rapt vision seemed but the visible smiles of God. 
 
 The deep's full heaat that throbs unceasing 'gainst the silent ships, 
 The waves together whispering with weird, mysterious lips — 
 To hear their untranslated hymn, drew down his anointed ear, 
 And listening, lo ! he heard God's voice, to him was He so near, 
 
 The happy hum of bees to him made Summer silence sweet, 
 Not lightly did he view the very grass beneath his feet; 
 Did it not pave His presence chamber where he walked a guest? 
 Ah, slight the veil between, in very truth his life was blest. 
 
 And when, on a still sunset, passed he to the Summer land, 
 Those whom he had befriended, weeping, clinging to his hand, 
 The west gleamed with a sudden glory, and from out the glow 
 Trembled the semblance of a crown, and rested on his brow. 
 
 And with wild, eager eyes he smiled, and stretched his hands abroad, 
 As if his dearest friends were welcoming him to his abode. 
 Eternal silence sealed that wond'rous smile as he cried : 
 "Thy face! thy face ! dear Lord ! " and saying this he died. 
 
 But legends tell that on his grave fell such a strange, pure light, 
 That wine-red roses planted thereupon would spring up white, 
 Holding such mystic healing in their cool snow bloom, that lain 
 On aching brows, or most sorrowful hearts, they would ease theit 
 pain. 
 
14 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 ALICE AYRES. 
 
 Emilia Avlmkr Blake. 
 
 WHAT'S there beneath, where the flowers in a heap 
 Rain down like the snows of May, 
 That a fellow like me should turn and weep 
 As I linger to go away ? 
 
 What has happened ? Well, one dark night 
 
 Last week, I was roaming about 
 Through the crowded streets, when a «udden light 
 
 Roused me up with a start and a shout. 
 
 In the burning frame of a window above, 
 
 Was set a woman's form, 
 And a cry, " Help ! Help ! For God's dear love ! " 
 
 Rang out above the storm. 
 
 Quick, quick, to the rescue, firemen brave 
 
 With shouts and galloping feet ; 
 " They come, they come, but too late to save," 
 
 The cry rose up from the street. 
 
 " Leap, leap," they cried, to the ashen face 
 
 Hemmed round with darts of flame ; 
 But she vanished three times from that fearful place. 
 
 And three times back she came. 
 
 Down through the window, a broad, soft bed 
 
 She flung on the cruel stones, 
 Then calmly bore forth in her arms and led, 
 
 Three helpless little ones. 
 
 One by one on the bed beneath 
 
 She dropped the children down ; 
 Three lives redeemed from fiery death. 
 
 While she thought not of her own. 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. i 5 
 
 Then we saw her totter through blinding smoke 
 As her strength with her breath should fail, 
 
 From a sea of namelit faces broke 
 One agonizing wail : 
 
 " For God's sake, save yourself," they shriek, 
 
 As they raise the outstretched bed ; 
 Toward the tongues of fire that licked her cheek 
 
 The girl turned round her head. 
 
 Oh, God !• those eyes of anguish wild, 
 
 Those white lips of despair 
 Cast back on the mother and youngest child 
 
 Sunk, choked and senseless there ! 
 
 She could no more — in her frenzy wrought 
 
 To a rash and sudden spring — 
 Headforemost, in our arms we caught 
 
 A crushed and speechless thing ! 
 
 We lifted her gently one and all — 
 
 No sound of life, no stir, 
 While we bore her to the hospital, 
 
 Gave hope to our hearts for her. 
 
 I hung like a ghost about the place 
 
 Where silent in death she lay, 
 With the happy smile on her fair young face, 
 
 Till they knew she had passed away. 
 
 No soldier nor sailor, by land or sea 
 
 In the bed of honor laid, 
 Was ever more great of heart than she, 
 
 That simple serving maid. 
 
 Ay, all she had she gave ^— her life, 
 For the babes she never bore ; 
 
?6 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 What could the mother and the wife 
 For flesh of her flesh do more ? 
 
 The deed she has done shall be hallowed yet 
 By a people's tears and prayers, 
 
 For the human heart can never forget 
 Such a woman as Alice Ayres. 
 
 HOW PAT WENT COURTING. 
 
 SHE'S consinted at last ! Fur two years I'd thocht a dale ov 
 Nelly McCusker, only I had nothin' ov an Irish boy's bouldness 
 to up and tell her that same. But yisterday sez I to mesilf— Pat 
 Murky, now's yer toime, or niver. Nelly was in the pantry washin' 
 dishes, an' sumthin shouted : Ax her ! She's too busy to look at 
 yer, ony way. So I starts on wid : 
 
 " Troth, Nelly, it's a bad loife for a boy to be livin' alone." 
 
 " Yis," sez she, wid nary a twinkle, " Mike Ryan, that's just bin 
 sent to prison, is in a bad way indade.'" 
 
 " Och," sez I, " there's mony a boy that's lonely livin' rite wid 
 his friends an' naybors. Sure an' I'm lonesome mesilf." 
 
 " How can I b'lave that," sez she, " whin y've got a fiddul ? " 
 
 " Fidduls," sez I, " are cheerin', but I've got me two eyes on 
 somet, on somethin' cheeriner." She forgot to ax me what that 
 sumthin' wus, so I trotted off by another road, sayin' : 
 
 " Faith, Nelly, I'm goin' back to ould Ireland." 
 
 " Indade," sez she, flirtin' the dishrag, " an' it's a pity ye iver 
 cum over." 
 
 " Yis," sez I, " Jane said that same in her last lether." 
 
 'An' who's Jane ? " axt Nelly, gettin' red loike the crabs on the 
 table besoid her. 
 
 " She thinks a power o' me," sez I, onheedin'. 
 
 " Shure an' that's quare. Is she young — as me ? " 
 
 " Yis." 
 
 " An' better lookin' ? " 
 
 " Paple moight think so." 
 
ELOC UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 7 
 
 " An' is she waitin' fur ye ? " 
 
 " Yis." 
 
 " She'll be changin' names, sure, I reckon ? " 
 
 " Yis." 
 
 " Wat's her name, now ? " 
 
 " Jane — Murky ! " cried I, wid delight. 
 
 " Thin she's your sister ? " sez Nelly, cross ez her mistress. " Well, 
 it aint much matter seein' ez how I've got a boy watchin' fur me 
 over in Ballycoran." 
 
 " Wat's his name ? " axt I, turnin' hot an' cold all at wunst. 
 
 " Barney Flynn," sez she. 
 
 "About me size ? " 
 
 « Yis." 
 
 "An' duz he luv ye ? " 
 
 " Nixt to the Vargin." 
 
 " Is he comin' over, sure ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why not, bedad ? " 
 
 J< Och, Pat, he's married alriddy ! " 
 
 " The spalpeen ! " sez I. 
 
 " Don't give him hard names," says she. " Barney Flynn's me 
 stip-bruther ! " Then she lafit that purty laugh o' hern an' went up 
 .-lose. 
 
 " Nelly," sez I. 
 
 " Wat, Pat ? " 
 
 " Cud ye luv a boy loike me ? " 
 
 " Troth an' I wouldn't thry." 
 
 " Why not, darlint ? " 
 
 " Faith, I wuz niver axt to." 
 
 "Thin I'll ax ye now." 
 
 " Don't do it," sez she. " I'm that full o' work I couldn't reply 
 for a month," and the dishes flew'd ivry wich way ez she said it. 
 But I sat down on the stip. 
 
 " I kin wait," sez I. 
 
 " The mistress will come an' foind yez here," 
 
 " I'll be plazed to mate her." 
 
1 8 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " I'll tell her ye're a robber." 
 
 " Begorra, that's just what I am, for I'm afther Nelly McCusker's 
 heart ! " 
 
 " Ye'll be arrested." 
 
 " I hay bin alriddy an' yer blu' eyes did it ! " sez I. " Cum, 
 Nelly, lock me up in yer warm heart foriver." 
 
 " Och, it's boulted an' I've lost the key." 
 
 " Thin I'll climb in at the winder." She hung her curly hed fur 
 a minit, and whin she lookt up I axt her to be my woife. 
 
 " I'll guv ye foive secinds," sez I. " Ef ye wull, just fotch me 
 the big pewter spoon ye've bin wipin' ; ef you won't, thin put it 
 bnck in the drawer ! " She peeped at me over the top av it. 
 
 " D'ye mane what ye say, Pat ? " 
 
 " Yis, darlint," sez I. 
 
 " Thin here's the spoon." % 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 James G. Clark. 
 
 The author of this selection is a poet, a musical composer and a singer. As a 
 poet lie is noted for the beauty and perfection of his rhythm ; as a composer for the 
 wonderful adaptation of the music to the sentiment ; as a ballad singer he has 
 rare talent. This remarkable poem is a protest of humanity against oppression 
 and injustice. The poet-prophet sees the impending conflict of the age with 
 ancient wrongs, and sounds the tocsin of the people in no uncertain measures. It 
 is eminently suited to be given at this time, when right is so grandly rising 
 against might ; but it is worth much as an elocutionary study, alone, irrespective 
 of the popular sentiment it expresses. 
 
 There should be, in reading, a general drift of the orotund quality of voice as 
 tone-color, and of the median stress. There is a partial drift of the final stress. 
 The compound stress is given to the emphatic words in the first four lines of the 
 fifth stanza. If you were to insert the words which are understood but not 
 expressed, the lines would read (Is it possible that) the sea must plead in vain that 
 the river? (Ts it possible that) the earth begs the rain clouds? Give strong 
 denunciation on first four lines of sixth stanza. Come out grandly on the last. 
 
 SWING inward, O gates of the future, 
 Swing outward ye doors of the past, 
 For the soul of the people is moving 
 And rising from slumber at last •, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 19 
 
 The black forms of night are retreating, 
 
 The white peaks have signaled the day, 
 And Freedom her long roll is beating, 
 
 And calling her sons to the fray. 
 
 And woe to the rule that has plundered 
 
 And trod down the wounded and slain, 
 While the wars of the Old Time have thundered 
 
 And men poured their life-tide in vain ; 
 The day of its triumph is ending, 
 
 The evening draws near with its doom, 
 And the star of its strength is descending 
 
 To sleep in dishonor and gloom. 
 
 Swing inward, O gates ! till the morning 
 
 Shall paint the brown mountains in gold, 
 Till the life and the love of the New Time 
 
 Shall conquer the hate of the Old. 
 Let the face and the hand of the Master 
 
 No longer be hidden from view, 
 Nor the lands He prepared for the many 
 
 Be trampled and robbed by the few. 
 
 The soil tells the same fruitful story, 
 
 The seasons their bounties display, 
 And the flowers lift their faces in glory 
 
 To catch the warm kisses of day ; 
 While our fellows are treated as cattle 
 
 That are muzzled when treading the corn, 
 And millions sink down in life's battle 
 
 With a sigh for the day they were born. 
 
 Must the sea plead in vain that the river 
 
 May return to its mother for rest, 
 And the earth beg the rain clouds to give her 
 
 Of dews they have drawn from her breast? 
 Lo ! the answer comes back in a mutter 
 
 From domes where the quick lightnings glow, 
 
2o ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 And from heights where the mad waters utter 
 Their warning to dwellers below. 
 
 And woe to the robbers who gather 
 
 In fields where they never have sown, 
 Who have stolen the jewels from labor 
 
 And builded to Mammon a throne ; 
 For the snow-king asleep by the fountains 
 
 Shall wake in the summer's hot breath, 
 And descend in his rage from the mountains 
 
 Bearing terror, destruction and death. 
 
 And the throne of their god shall be crumbled, 
 
 And the sceptre be swept from his hand, 
 And the heart of the haughty be humbled, 
 
 And a servant be chief in the land, — 
 And the Truth and the Power united 
 
 Shall rise from the graves of the True, 
 And the wrongs of the Old Time be righted 
 
 In the might and the light of the New. 
 
 For the Lord of the harvest hath said it — 
 
 Whose lips never uttered a lie, 
 And His prophets and poets have reatl it 
 
 In symbols of earth and of sky, 
 That to him who has reveled in plunder 
 
 Till the angel of conscience is dumb, 
 The shock of the earthquake and thunder 
 
 And tempest and torrent shall come. 
 
 Swing inward, O gates of the future ! 
 
 Swing outward ye doors of the past ! 
 A giant is waking from slumber 
 
 And rending his fetters at last, — 
 From the dust, where his proud tyrants found him 
 
 Unhonored and scorned and betrayed, 
 He shall rise with the sunlight around him 
 
 And rule in the realm he has made. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 THE FLAG AT HALF-MAST. 
 
 Helen M. Cooke (" Lottie Linwood.") 
 
 This poem was written while the flags were floating at half-mast in honor of 
 Peter Cooper. It was published January I, 1887, and in the brief time it has 
 been before the public it has been a great favorite. The author has written many 
 other poems of merit, but none in which the chords of the human heart are more 
 deeply touched. 
 
 I SAT and watched the flags to-day. 
 Some fluttering near, some far away ; 
 I saw them shrink and cling, as if 
 They could not float for weight of grief; 
 And then the soothing April wind 
 Just kissed their hems with touch so kind, 
 They floated out, and I could see 
 They all were hung half-mast ! "Ah, me ! 
 Some man is gone ! Never," I said, 
 " Were flags half-mast for woman dead." 
 
 Begin in clear, conversational tone, making " sat," " watched," 
 -" flags " emphatic. " Some fluttering near " is given with rising 
 inflection ; " some far away " with falling, in order to bring out the 
 contrast of distance. In third line paint the "shrink" by speaking 
 it as if you were indicating the movement of drawing in, or taking 
 little space, and linger on " cling " by dwelling on the last two 
 letters. Sink down to sadness in reading the fourth line, but 
 brighten up and speak the next three lines in a sprightly manner. 
 " They all were hung half-mast " is given plaintively, but the pathos 
 culminates on " Ah, me ! " " Some man is gone " is given carelessly, 
 as if the speaker were not interested in knowing whom. " Never " 
 is given with strong downward slide. " I said " is parenthetic, and 
 " half-mast " and " woman " are the words of value in the last line. 
 
 And why ? Oh, world, I ask you why 
 That flag up there in the blue sky, 
 That floats half-mast for men, who have 
 Perchance no laurels for their grave ; 
 
2 2 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 The flag for which my grandsires died, 
 Which was my honored mother's pride, 
 That gives its pledge of grief to-day, 
 Should not, when I shall pass away — 
 My work all done, my prayers all said, 
 Why not half-mast when I am dead ? 
 
 Give emphatic falling inflection on " why." " Oh, world " is par- 
 enthetic, but receives full force of expression, the voice rising upon 
 '"Oh" and falling with distinct emphasis upon " world." " You " 
 is given with falling wave, and " why " with the rising, and followed 
 by a rhetorical pause. The second line is given with quick move- 
 ment, the slight emphatic strokes being given to "flag, up, there, in, 
 blue, sky." Commence third line slower, pause after "floats;" give 
 lesser emphasis on "half-mast," and much stronger on "men." 
 " Perchance," in the fourth line, is parenthetic ; " laurels " is made 
 emphatic by the falling wave of a third, while " grave " is given the 
 rising wave of a third ; staccato movement on " The flag for which 
 my grandsires died, which was my honored mother's pride," with 
 emphasis on "grandsires" and " died," and rising wave of a fifth on 
 "honored" and falling on "mother's." Speak this last word ten- 
 derly, almost sacredly. Emphasize " I ; " give " work " and " all " 
 with rising voice, and " done " with falling, pausing for rhetorical 
 effect briefly after " all; " " prayers " is spoken slowly and devoutly, 
 with falling wave on "prayers" and " all," and rising on " said." 
 Ask the question in last line with intensity, emphasizing " not " and 
 coloring the last four words with pathos. 
 
 As soon as life's affections move, 
 Oh, does not woman learn to love 
 Each fold and stripe, and every star, 
 That symbols liberty, not war ? 
 That flag for which the sons she gave 
 Have marched unflinching to the grave, 
 That hung half-mast when life had fled, 
 Yet ne'er would droop o'er her when dead. 
 
 The first line is given firmly throughout with more distinct final 
 stress on " move." The most intense patriotic devotion should be 
 shown in the third and fourth lines. Make " liberty " seem desirable 
 and "war" to be averted. Great contrast must be given the two 
 
EL OCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 23 
 
 words. Give fifth and sixth lines with staccato movement, with 
 special emphasis to (t unflinching." Next to the last line with 
 tender pathos. The words ' : ne'er, her, dead " are given with ris- 
 ing wave of the voice ; " would, droop, o'er, when," with falling. 
 
 If I fought battles all my life, 
 With sin and wrong and human strife, 
 And gained my victories great and grand 
 As any soldier in the land ; 
 Or taught the lowly how to live ; 
 Gave to the poor all I could give, 
 Gave to life's wounded ones the wine 
 From the great healing Fount Divine; 
 And turned the evil into good, 
 Blessing the world's sad brotherhood 
 With deeds of hand, or heart, or pen, 
 Of suffering, dying, even like men, 
 No starry flag would float o'erhead 
 Half-mast that I was lying dead ! 
 
 Emphasize " battles " in first line ; dwell upon " sin, wrong, human 
 strife," with heavy force in second line. Give " victories " its full 
 value, and in speaking " great and grand " make the expression 
 harmonize with the idea. Emphasize " soldier, lowly, poor, 
 wounded, wine, healing, Fount Divine." Downward stroke is given 
 to " evil," rising wave on " good." Dwell upon ng in " blessing ;" 
 give pathetic tone to " sad ; " emphasize " hand, tongue, pen, suf- 
 fering, dying." Read parenthetic word " even," with lower pitch. 
 Downward wave on " like," upward on " men." " No starry flag 
 would float o'erhead half-mast," given with pathos ; pause after 
 "mast." " That I was lying dead " is given in disheartened tone and 
 manner. 
 
 And yet I love that flag so well ; 
 I love to watch its rise and swell, 
 Like a proud bird, whose tireless wings 
 Could soar through cloudland, as he sings 
 
24 EL O CUTIONAR Y S TUDIES. 
 
 The song of Freedom, with his might ; 
 
 The song of Justice, Truth and Right. 
 
 I watch its graceful rise and fall 
 
 In the soft air, and think of all 
 
 The women who have won a name 
 
 Immortal, in the world of fame. 
 
 That brighten history's treasured page, 
 
 The true of earth, the pure, the sage, 
 
 The gentle ones, the singers sweet, 
 
 The martyrs with their bleeding feet ; 
 
 Yet, had I yielded all I prized, 
 
 And even life had sacrificed, 
 
 And my poor name had led them all, 
 
 No flag half-mast would rise and fall, 
 
 In the free heavens overhead, 
 
 That I was hushed, and still, and dead. 
 
 Begin the last stanza with much feeling, giving a general drift of 
 the final stress. Speak " flag " as if pouring the fullest tone of patri 
 otism into the voice; emphasize " so well." The next three lines 
 are descriptive ; emphasize " cloudland," but reserve the greater 
 force for "Justice, Truth, Right." Give these words their grand 
 import in your tone and emphasis. Fall gently in pitch upon " I 
 watch its graceful rise and fall in the soft air ; " rise in pitch, give 
 median stress to " all;" final to "women; "culminate the pitch on " Im- 
 mortal in the world of fame." Pause after " earth, pure, sage, gentle. 
 singers." Speak " martyrs " reverently, " with their bleeding feet " 
 pathetically. Emphasize and give final stress to " yielded ; " pause 
 after " all I prized; " emphasize "life" as if it were, as it is, the 
 most valuable thing to you. Pause after " my poor name ; " give 
 "all "with great force; drop down to pathetic on "no flag half- 
 mast." Give upward slide on " rise," and downward on "fall;" 
 median stress on " free," falling wave on "heavens" and rising on 
 "overhead." Last line should be given in monotone, with very 
 slow time, and long pauses. " And dead " may be spoken in an 
 emphatic whisper. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 25 
 
 THE COURTSHIPS OF ADOLPHUS M'DUFF. 
 
 A Susceptible English Youth. 
 
 This selection yields a great amount of humor when well rendered. The special 
 tone of each speaker should be given. 
 
 " T LOVE, thou lovest, he, she, or it loves ; we love, you love, 
 1 they love." So say the grammar books, and so say all of us. 
 There are, it is true, beings who say they have not loved, they do 
 not love, they will not love, and they cannot love; but they are fit 
 for treasons, stratagems and spoils. Love is a strange and awful 
 mystery, a combination of pleasure and of pain, which none but 
 those who have had the complaint can possibly imagine or com- 
 prehend. 
 
 I was scarcely out of short jackets when I fell over head, and 
 even ears, in love with a girl that stayed a few doors down the street 
 from us. The symptoms first began to manifest themselves in the 
 form of poetry, in which the lines ended in the orthodox manner 
 with : 
 
 love 
 
 dove 
 
 mine 
 
 thine 
 
 soon 
 
 moon 
 
 w ait 
 
 late 
 
 as 1 have been told they always do in such cases. T was seized with 
 violent palpitation of the heart whenever the maiden drew near ; 
 and turned so red that I thought everybody must be looking at me. 
 For a long time she seemed quite unconscious of the havoc she was 
 working in my heart. At last she happened to catch me casting 
 glances at her every now and then. 
 
 To my horror and dismay, she made a jest of the whole affair, and 
 told all the other girls of the good joke, and the boys chaffed me 
 
26 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 till my life was rendered miserable. What was I to do ? At first 
 I resolved to swallow cold poison, and die in frightful agony before 
 her door, murmuring with my last faint breath, " Cruel, cruel Sopho- 
 nisba ! " On second thought, however, I made up my mind to 
 pine slowly away from want of food, so that my pallid cheeks and 
 haggard aspect might haunt her to her dying day. 
 
 Accordingly, next day I took no breakfast, and went about cold 
 and famished till dinner-time, when I became so ravenous that I sat 
 down and took the biggest dinner I had ever eaten in all my life 
 and made up my mind to think no more of the faithless one. I 
 soon recovered my spirits and began to look for some other fair one 
 who would more readily reciprocate my affections. 
 
 Ere long I became acquainted with Mademoiselle Marie Crapeau, 
 the daughter of a French teacher who had settled in town. She 
 used to assist me with my French lessons, and one day I fell madly 
 in love with her. I made an awful mess of my translations that day. 
 I read : 
 
 La fille — I feel I love you. 
 
 Ma cliere — I'm the masher for you. 
 
 Ma mere — Be my Marie, 
 
 and could have gone on for hours, had her father not put in an 
 appearance. Next day she was going for a walk, and I asked leave 
 to accompany her. As we went along a quiet road. I sighed 
 deeply two or three times. 
 
 " I sinks you are not veil ? " said Mademoiselle Marie. 
 
 I sighed again, and placed my hand on that part of my stomach 
 where I thought my heart should be. 
 
 " Tell to me," said she, " vere ees your pains ? " 
 
 " It's here, in my heart," I said. 
 
 " Vot ees eet like ?"• 
 
 " Oh !" I said, " I can't describe it. Toothache's nothing to it, 
 neither is measles, nor consumption, nor smallpox, nor, nor any- 
 thing else. My heart's whummeling about like an empty barrel, 
 and it's all for love of you." 
 
 " Ah, you ees von flatterer. I have heard of your vays. You 
 ginks I am so simple, but you do not mean eet even von leetle bit." 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 27 
 
 " Ah, but I do," I said. " 1 would die for your sake." 
 ~" But you have been and dyed alretty." 
 
 " How ? why ? where ? when ? what do you mean ?" I said, 
 bewildered. 
 
 " Your hair, eet vos red ; eet ees black. You have dyed alretty," 
 and she ran away laughing, while I was plunged into the inky waters 
 of despair. 
 
 I made up my mind that I would love no more. But the Fates 
 were too strong for me. Soon after this I fell a victim to the 
 charms of an American girl, who was on a visit to some friends in 
 die neighborhood. She was such a smart girl that I was almost 
 afraid of her. Talk of catching a weasel asleep ! Why, you 
 couldn't catch her even winking. Before the ordinary girl would 
 be trusted out alone, this young lady had " done " France, Switzer- 
 land, Italy, Egypt and India ; had inspected the insides of the Pyra- 
 mids ; had crossed black, white, red and yellow seas ; had been 
 chased by wolves, had been at a tiger hunt, had been shipwrecked 
 on a desert island, and would have been eaten by cannibals if there 
 had been any in the locality. She knew everything, and had seen 
 everything in the wide, wide world. She spent a lot of her time 
 seated in the open air, reading, and I scraped an acquaintance 
 with her, and after a time eloquently pleaded my lamentable case. 
 
 " Young man," she said, " if you mean business, go on." 
 
 " Business," said I, " is the passionate desire of my innermost 
 soul." 
 
 " Well, then," says she, "love in a cottage is romantic, and I 
 like romance when it isn't all froth. Souffles are nice, but I guess 
 you'd be tired eating before you made a square meal off them. 
 Now, to come to the point, supposing we were to set up house- 
 keeping, what's your income ?" 
 
 " I've only three shillings and sixpence a week," I said, turning 
 rather red ; " but I've some books, and a pair of skates, and a 
 fishing-rod I could sell ; and I've got good prospects, nnd a rich 
 uncle that might die; and I love you like anything, and we'd have 
 real jolly times. Will you be mine, dearest one ?" 
 
 " It's business I'm after," said that practical young lady — in such 
 
28 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 a chilling way that the atmosphere at once fell thirty-five degrees 
 below zero — "and it strikes me that, instead of being your dearest 
 one, that at that rate I would be the cheapest one I ever heard tell 
 of. Why, with three shillings and sixpence a week we would be 
 rolling in poverty. A kiss and a cup of cold water would make 
 rather too poor a breakfast for me. Young man, it won't do. Try 
 some other girl. Ta, ta !" 
 
 At last I found one who could appreciate me — my affinity. She 
 was. a gusher. She was fond of poetry, she doted on romance, she 
 fairly revelled in sentimentality. The first time I saw her I felt 
 my heart thump, thump, thumping away at my ribs as if it were 
 trying to break out of a cage, and then it leaped to my mouth 
 and right out, and I lost it. I forgot all about other girls, 
 and felt there was but one girl in all the world worth loving, and 
 this was the one. I would have done anything for that girl. If she 
 had asked me to swallow Vesuvius, or get her a chunk off the North 
 Pole, it would have had to be done. If she had asked me to lay 
 the great Koh-i-noor at her feet, or to make her Empress of India, 
 I should have set about it instantly, though I should have had to 
 wade my way through incarnadine seas of gore. Her loveliness was 
 beyond all description ! She had eyes which melted my very soul 
 within me ; she had lips redder than the rose, sweeter than 
 honey from the honeycomb. Her cheeks were like peach blossom, 
 her hair like a cataract of gold ; her arms were like alabaster. The 
 touch of her fingers sent a thrill through my whole frame like an 
 electric shock dipped in sugar ; her feet made holy the ground she 
 walked upon. 
 
 I sighed a sigh of such a size that the room seemed to shake, and, 
 the ceiling was raised a foot and a half before it subsided. 
 
 She sighed a little sigh which seemed like a morning zephyr pass- 
 ing oVer a bed of roses. 
 
 We both sighed, and then all was silence. 
 
 "Ah ! " I said to myself, " this is indeed sweet sadness." 
 
 Then I gazed fondly at her, and she gave me a look that seemed 
 to lift me right off my feet, and made my head swim. I saw I had 
 made an impression, and that I must do and dare, and that at once. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STlfDT£S. 29 
 
 I had a geranium in my buttonhole, and I presented it to her, and 
 said : 
 
 "Are you fond of flowers ? " 
 
 " I could literally live on them for ever. And you, Adolphus ? " 
 
 " If they were cauliflowers I could live on them, but even theft* 
 I'd like a bit of beef once in a while." 
 
 "Ah ! You are trying to make fun of my sentimentality." 
 
 "No ! " I cried, " I am in awful, solid earnest ; I love you tondly, 
 dearly, madly, frantically. Tell me, oh, tell me ! may I venture to 
 hope ? " 
 
 " Do you love me so much ? " 
 
 " Much ? yes, more than tongue can tell ! Yea, even although a 
 thousand scribes with a thousand golden pens wrote for a thousand 
 long years, they could not tell the thousandth part of my passion- 
 ate love ! " 
 
 " My own, my dearest Adolphus, I am thine ! " 
 
 Then the sun shone out as brightly as if his face had got an extra 
 polish. The few clouds which had dimmed the blue azure of the 
 summer sky scudded off as if they were heartily ashamed of them- 
 selves. The birds sang overhead as they had never sung before, 
 till the whole air was full of music. The flowers lavished forth their 
 balmiest fragrance, and displayed their robes of richest hue. The 
 little daisies peered inquisitively up. The cornstalks nodded their 
 heads as if to say they knew all about it. The trees seemed to 
 twine their arms affectionately, and draw closer to each other. The 
 very wind murmured a faint benediction. Oh, it was bliss indeed ! 
 It was worth living through the expectant ages of eternity to enjoy 
 such a moment as that. All nature seemed to rejoice with us, and 
 breathe forth love, joy, and peace. It seemed to me that there was 
 no more sorrow, or sin, or suffering left in any corner of the wide. 
 wide world, but that it had been all sunk to the very bottom of the 
 aea, and the cork put in. 
 
 How long we sat I do not know. Time was of no account. It 
 may have been days, it may have been hours. It matters not ! At 
 last I turned to her and said : 
 
 " Is 00 happy, 'ittle ootsey-wootsey ? " 
 
30 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Oh, so happy ! Is topsy-nopsy happy too ? " 
 
 " Oh, so happy ! " 
 
 " What would topsy-nopsy do if there was no ootsey-wootsey in 
 the wide, wide world ? " 
 
 I was about to assure her that existence would be but a Sahara 
 without her, when a gruff voice from behind the bushes growled 
 out: 
 
 " Snopsy-wopsy would be courting some other girl, that's what ! " 
 
 It was her big brother; Seraphina fled one way and I the other, 
 and I haven't seen her since. That was a month ago. When will 
 the next fair charmer come ? Ah me ! 
 
 THE CORPSE'S HUSBAND. 
 
 A Dialogue between a Mistress and A Maii 
 
 BRIDGET : I'd like to go away the day ma-am \looking toward the 
 right as if the lady were standing near, and dropping a courtesy'] ; 
 the work is all done ma-am, and there's nothing to do, ma-am, air 
 its a funeral if you plaze, ma-am. 
 
 Lady : [ Turning toward left] I'm very sorry to hear it Bridget. 
 I hope it is not the funeral of a friend or relative. 
 
 Bridget : No frind or rilative, ma-am, but only a frind av a 
 frind, an' I'll be back at tin o'clock, the morrow, plaze God. 
 
 Lady : You can go, Bridget, of course, but don't make any mis- 
 take about coming back. 
 
 Bridget: Don't ye give yersilf anny unasiness aboot that, ma- 
 am, don't ye give yersilf anny throuble aboot that, ma-am. It is 
 not Bridget O'Harra, that ud sarve ye the mane thrick not to come 
 back whin ye give her the devarsion of goin' to a funeral, manny 
 thanks to ye. Don't ye give yersilf anny unasiness aboot that, 
 I'll be back betimes, I will. 
 
 [Three o'clock on the following day, and Bridget just returned. ,1 
 
 Lady : Why, Bridget, what has happened to detain you so ? 
 
 Bridget: [Exploding, in what seems to be a flood of rage, but is 
 assumed as an excuse for what she is to say] An' is it because I did 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 31 
 
 not come back at tin o'clock that ye spake to me in that way ? I'll 
 give ye warnin' and lave at once, as I said I wud. 
 
 Lady : Why, Bridget what is the matter ? 'I don't know what I 
 have said to put you in such a temper. I thought you liked the 
 place. 
 
 Bridget: \Q11iie subdued, lone changed entirely, picking at tier 
 clothing and showing embarrassment in various ways\ Well, I do 
 like the place, and I like you, ma-am. It was the last thing I 
 thought of yisterday morn to lave yer imploy, but its all along of 
 the funeral, ma-am {embarrassment increases], its all along of the 
 funeral. 
 
 Lady : Well, I'm sure you need not be afraid to tell me about it. 
 
 Bridget: [Reassured, and speaking rapidly] O, ma-am, I do 
 think it be the worst thing for a man to be loosin' his wife; an' the 
 way that one did go on, a cryin' and a groanin', a cryin' and a 
 groanin', it wud just go to your heart to hear it. Why, ma-am, I 
 never heerd anny think like it, except from me brother Tim [crying] 
 whin the pigs ate the baby. 
 
 As I said before, he was just a cryin' and a groanin', an' what 
 could I do but go to him ? as anny woman wid a hart in her bussum 
 would have done ; ye wud most like have done it yersilf, ma-am- 
 What could I do but go to him, and jist go to strokin' 'im down 
 [make a movement of stroking the shoulders of an imaginary person in 
 the chair before you], and strokin' 'im, an' he all the whoile a cryin' 
 and a takin' on ; what cud I do but comfort him by sayin', " Take 
 it azy, take it azy [in a very compassionate tone], there's more days in 
 the sky and there's more gerls in the world, take it azy, take it azy." 
 An' this mornin' he said I wus the liveliest gerl at the funeral [laugh- 
 ing immoderately, almost doubling up in the efforf\, an' [clapping 
 her hands and dancing in the tvildest glee] we're goin' to be married, 
 ma-am, we're goin' to be married, the corpse's husband and me, 
 ma-am, die corpse's husband and me. 
 
32 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 THE BURGOMASTER'S DEATH. 
 
 Adapted from the Play of " The Bells," for Recitation, by Prof. Thos. F. Wil- 
 
 ford,. A. M. 
 
 [Scene — Room in the Burgomaster's house. Table and chair R. 
 Candle lighted on table. Chair L. Couch at back. Enter L, Mat- 
 hias. Cautiously locks door and puts key into pocket. \ 
 
 AT last I am alone ! Everything goes well. Christian, the 
 gendarme, is to-night made my son-in-law ; my darling child, 
 Annette, is now firmly settled for life, and so vanishes all fear from 
 me. To-night I shall sleep without a terror haunting me. Ah ! 
 what a power it is to know how to guide your destiny in life. You 
 must hold good cards in your hands ! good cards ! as I have 
 done, and if you play them well you may defy ill-fortune. 
 
 [Revellers heard singing outside. ~\ 
 | Taking off coat.] Ha! ha! ha! those jolly topers have got all 
 they want. What holes in the snow they will make before they 
 leach their homes ! Drink ! drink ! Is it not strange ? To drink 
 and drown every remorse. [Touring out water.] But does it drown 
 remorse ? Does it drown the memory of that night fifteen years 
 ago ? [Raises glass to lips.] What is the date ? [Puts dozvn glass 
 — very much affected, j God ! 'tis the same — this night exactly. And 
 just such a night. O, Mathias ! Mathias ! if your friends who 
 respect you only knew the secret that has been at your heart for 
 years. If your wife and child knew what raised them from poverty 
 
 to affluence was crime — was mur . Sh ! walls have ears. 
 
 How cold I am ! [Brinks.'] Yet I could not help it. Why did 
 the Jew come to my inn when the clouds of poverty hung most 
 heavily over our house ? Why did he come with that belt full of 
 gold to tempt me ? I could not see my loved ones turned out on 
 the roadside the next day in the bitter winter cold. No one who is 
 
 human could [Starts up — listens with terror.] Bells! bells! 
 
 [Runs to window — looks out P\ No one on the road. [Comes for- 
 ward^ What is this jangling in my ears? What is to-night? 
 Ah.! it is to-night — the very hour. [Clock strikes ten.] I feel a 
 darkness coming over me. [Lights down.} A sensation of gidd,i- 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 33 
 
 ness seizes me. [Staggers to chair.\ Shall I call for help ? No, 
 no, Mathias. Have courage ! The Jew is dead. How lucky I 
 decided to sleep by myself to-night. Pshaw ! it is only in fancy 
 that I hear the sound of the Jew's sleigh-bells — it is only fancy. I 
 am safe. The people about here are such idiots they suspect noth- 
 ing. I am nervous to-night. It was that Parisian fellow — the 
 mesmerist — at the fair to-day who is the cause of it all. When he 
 wanted to send me to sleep as well as the others, I said to myself, 
 " Stop, stop, Mathias — this sending you to sleep may be an inven- 
 tion of the devil ; you might relate certain incidents in your past 
 life ! You must be cleverer than that, Mathias ; you musn't run 
 your neck into a halter; you must be cleverer than that." [Starting 
 up and crossing L.} You will die an old man yet, Mathias, and the 
 most respected in the province — [takes snuff} — only this, since 
 you dream and are apt to talk in your dreams, for the future you 
 sleep alone in this room, the door locked, and the key safe in your 
 pocket. [Goes to table — unlocks dtawer — takes out girdle. \ That 
 girdle did us a good turn ; without it — without it, we were ruined. 
 If Catherine only knew — poor, poor Catherine. [Sobs, and head 
 falls forward on his amis on table. Bells heard. Mathias starts up 
 — goes up to window.} The bells ! The bells again ! they must 
 come from the mill. [Looks out.} No; the wheel is stopped and 
 the mill is in darkness. [Bells cease.} The bells stop. It must be 
 fancy — it must be fancy. How that night comes back to me. 
 We were just seated at a game of cards down stairs, when, 
 as the old clock struck ten, the sound of horse-bells was heard ; 
 a sledge stopped before the door, and almost immediately after- 
 ward the Polish Jew entered. He was a well-made, vigorous man, 
 between forty and fifty years of age. I fancy even now I can see 
 him entering the door with his green cloak and his fur cap, his large 
 black beard and his great boots covered with hare-skin. He was a 
 seed merchant. He says as he comes in, " Peace be with you !" 
 I ask him, " What can I do for you ?" But the Jew, without reply- 
 ing, first opens his cloak and then unbuckles a girdle which he wore 
 around his waist. This he throws upon the table, and I hear the 
 ringing sound of gold— gold. Then he says, "The snow is deep, 
 
34 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 the road difficult ; put my horse in the stable. In one hour I shall 
 continue my journey." After that he drinks his wine without speak- 
 ing to any one, and sits like a man depressed and anxious about his 
 affairs. At eleven o'clock the night watchman comes in. Every 
 one then goes to his home, and the Jew and I are left alone. 
 [Comes forward.] The next morning they find the Jew's horse 
 dead under the old bridge, and a hundred yards further on, his green 
 cloak and fur cap — stained — with — blood. {Looks around.] 
 But as to what became of the Jew himself has never to this day 
 been discovered. [Laughs grimly.'] Fools! [fours out wine] — they 
 never suspected I had anything to do with his disappearance. 
 [Drinks and rises.] The room is growing cold and my eyes are 
 getting heavy. [Lies on couch at back.] I'll lie here awhile. Ha ! 
 ha ! Mathias, have no fear ; you have played your game well. 
 Sleep in peace, then ! You have triumphed, and conscience is at 
 rest — at — rest. [Sleeps.] 
 
 [Chorus of revellers heard more faintly .] 
 
 [Mathias begins to move restlessly in his sleep.] 
 
 [Sleeping.] I say no. A man cannot be condemned upon such 
 supposition. You must have proofs. I do not hear the sound of 
 bells. \Bells.\ It is the blood rushing to my brain — this jangling 
 in my ears. Christian, I have made you my son; I have made 
 you rich ; come and defend me. My honor is your honor. Come 
 to me, Christian. [Pause.] Take away the mesmerist — his eyes 
 burn into my soul. He shall not put me to sleep — he shall not. 
 \ Pause. Mathias sits up on couch ; his eyes open with the vacant stare 
 of one in sleep. He rises to his feet — comes forward and speaks in a 
 low, hollow voice.] You command me to tell the story of my crime. 
 So be it. It is the night of the 24th of December, 181 8 — the hour, 
 half-past eleven. The people are leaving the inn ; Catherine and 
 little Annette have gone to rest. One man Kaspar comes in. He 
 tells me the lime-kiln is lighted. I answer him, " It is well ; go to 
 bed ; I will see to the kiln." He leaves me. I am alone with the 
 Jew, who is warming himself by the stove. Without all is rest. No 
 sound is heard, except from time to time the Jew's horse under the 
 shed, when he shakes his bells. [Stops as if thinking.} I must 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 35 
 
 have money. If I have not three thousand francs by the 31st 
 the inn will be taken from me. There is no one stirring; it is 
 night; there are two feet of snow upon the ground, and the Jew 
 will follow the high road alone. [After a short silence. ] But he is 
 strong. He would defend himself well, should any one attack him. 
 [In a low voice. \ He looks at me. He has gray eyes. [As if 
 speaking to himself. \ I must strike the blow! [Decidedly. \ Yes, 
 yes; I will strike the blow! I will risk it! \A pause. \ I must, 
 however, look around. The night is dark; it still snows; no one 
 would trace my footsteps in the snow. [Raises his hand as if feeling 
 for something.] Let me see if lie carries any pistols in the sledge. 
 No, no; there is nothing — nothing at all. I can risk it. [He 
 listens.'] All is silent in the village! kittle Annette is crying; a 
 goat bleats in the stable ; the Jew is walking in his room ! He 
 comes back ; he places five francs upon the table ; I return him his 
 money ; he fixes his eyes steadily upon me ! He speaks to me ! 
 He asks me how far it is to Mutzig. " Four leagues." I wish him 
 well upon his journey ! He answers, " God bless you !" He goes 
 out — he is gone. [Mathias, with body bent, takes several steps for- 
 ward as if following and watching his victim — he extends his hands.] 
 The axe ! where is the axe ? Ah ! here, behind the door ! How 
 cold it is ! [He trembles.] The snow falls — not a star ! Courage, 
 Mathias, you shall possess the girdle — courage ! I follow him. I 
 have crossed the fields! [Points.] Here is the old bridge, and 
 there below the frozen rivulet ! How the dogs howl at Darnel's 
 farm ! how they howl ! And old Finck's forge, how brightly -it 
 glows upon the hillock. [Low, as if speaking to himself] Kill a 
 man! kill a man ! You will not do that, Mathias — you will not 
 do that ! Heaven forbids it. [Proceeding to walk with measured 
 steps and befit body.] You are a fool ! Listen; you will be rich. 
 Your wife and child will no longer want for anything ! The Jew 
 came ; so much the worse — so much the worse. He ought not to 
 have come ! You will pay all you owe ; you will be no more in 
 debt. [Loud, in a broken lone.] It must be, Mathias, that you kill 
 him ! [He listens.] No one is on the road — no one ! [ With an 
 expression of terror.] What dr< adful silence! [He wipes his fore- 
 
36 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 /lead with his hand .] One o'clock strikes, and the moon shines! 
 Ah ! the Jew has already passed ! Thank God ! thank God ! [He 
 kneels — a pause — he listens — the bells heard off.~\ No! The 
 bells ! The bells ! He comes ! Be careful, Mathias. Don't 
 dabble your sleeves in his blood ! Roll them up tight ! Remem- 
 ber the girdle ! the girdle ! [He bends down in a watching attitude, 
 and remains still — a pause — in a low voice.] You will be rich — 
 you will be rich — you will be rich ! [Bells increase in sound — 
 Mathias as if watching — suddenly he springs forward, and with a 
 species of savage roar strikes a terrible blow with his right hand.] Ah, 
 ha! I have you now, Jew! \He strikes again, then leans forward 
 and gazes anxiously on the ground — he extends his hand as if to touch 
 something, but draws it back in horror.] He does not move. I have 
 done it. [He raises himself — utters a deep sigh of relief arid looks 
 around. J The horse has fled with the sledge. [Kneeling down.\ 
 He is dead — all is over ! [Looks around, ,] Another noise ! Noth- 
 ing again — only the wmd whistling through the trees. Quick, 
 quick, let me get the girdle at once — the girdle at once. Ha! I 
 have it. [Performs action, while speaking, of taking the girdle from 
 the Jew's body arid fastening it around his own.] I am panting for 
 breath ! I can scarcely buckle it around my waist. Nothing but 
 gold in it ! Nothing but gold ! Nothing but gold ! Quick, 
 Mathias, be quick ! Carry him away ! Carry him away ! [He 
 bends low down and appears to lift the body upon his back ; he then 
 walks across stage, his body bent, his steps slow as a man's who carries 
 a heavy burden. j I shall take him to the lime-kiln, f Walking L.\ 
 1 am there. [He appears to throw down the body.] How heavy 
 he was ! O, what hands are here ! Dabbled with his blood ! I'll 
 have no more of that. [Looks around.] Where's the shovel ? 
 [Bends down to take it up.] I'll push him in with that. [In a hoarse 
 voice.] Go into the fire, Jew — go into the fire ! [Appears to push 
 the body in with his whole force — shades his face with his hand.] 
 Be careful, or the fire will scorch you ! Look, look, look ! he is 
 burning, he is burning, burning, burning, burning. The corpse 
 turns on the fire. The face is turned upward. [He suddenly utters a 
 cry of horror, and staggers away R, his face covered with his hands.] 
 Ah ! those eyes— those eyes ! How they glare at me— glare at me ! 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 37 
 
 THE DREAM OF SISTER AGNES. 
 
 This is a very beautiful poem and makes a good Christmas study. 
 
 IN the snowy moonlit midnight ' 
 Faint and far the chimes are ringing ; 
 In the cloister's gray old chapel 
 
 Clear and sweet the nuns are singing j 
 In the shimmer of the candles, 
 
 High above the altar, stands, 
 White and sad, the Christ outstretching 
 
 On the cross His patient hands, 
 And the pale Sister Agnes 
 
 Watches, with weary eyes, 
 Between her face and His image, 
 
 The rolling incense rise ; 
 And she hears her own soul sobbing 
 
 As the music swells and sighs : 
 
 Begin in descriptive manner, though somewhat slow and grave ; 
 emphasize " snowy, moonlit, midnight," and pause after each 
 word. " Faint " should be given with sustained voice and less force ; 
 " far " as if to send the voice some distance ; " chimes " takes a 
 decided falling inflection. Seem to be listening while filling the time 
 given to the rhetorical pause which follows the emphatic word ; 
 then bring out " are ringing " very distinctly, though not with pro- 
 nounced emphasis. Give falling slide on " cloister's; " " gray" and 
 " old," being explanatory, are given with slightly lowered pitch ; 
 " chapel " receives the emphasis given by the compound stress. 
 " Clear and sweet " is given with monotone, with slight final stress 
 on the last word. Emphasize " nuns ; " pause and then give, as if 
 you hear them, " are singing." Change the melody as you begin the 
 fourth line ; quicken the time a little and give a slight, tremulous 
 movement on " shimmer." A gesture of direction should be given 
 on " high above the altar stands," and is retained during the two 
 following lines. With " white and sad " there may be a slight 
 movement of the hand to left and then to right, as the words are 
 spoken pityingly. It is almost impossible to describe the religious 
 feeling which should be thrown into these three lines — feel it, if 
 possible, as simulation at best loses the expression of reality, and 
 
38 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 may usually be detected. At "the Christ outstretching" there will 
 be a slight raising of the shoulders, an almost imperceptible mov- 
 ing of the hand to the light on " outstretching," and returning to 
 place on " Christ." Try and make your audience have a picture of 
 "pale sister Agnes ^" but to do this you must first have the picture 
 in your own mind. Give a gentle waving of the extended hand, 
 something as if outlining from lips of the fingers a long and narrow 
 letter O lying upon its side thus <^) as you speak the words "roll- 
 ing incense." Give a slightly sobbing sound on the pronunciation 
 of the word "sobbing." A gentle expansion of voice should be 
 given to "swells," and pathos shown on " sighs," which is spoken 
 with sustained voice. 
 
 " The stones are cold in the chancel, 
 
 Cold as the cruel snow ; 
 The moon is cold in Heaven, 
 
 And the frozen earth below 
 Lies dead on the breast of midnight, 
 
 Frozen to death, I know ! 
 Even the yellow candles 
 
 Look cold, like those icy stars 
 That all night long are watching 
 
 Beyond my window bars ; 
 The writhing incense shivers 
 
 Like an outcast soul in pain — 
 The cold has crept into my bosom 
 
 And wound about my brain. 
 
 You could not read this stanza feelingly without a perceptible 
 shiver through the lines, which culminates on the last two lines. 
 There must be appropriate gestures of place ; indicate and locate 
 the stones in the chancel; the cruel snow is without the edifice and 
 must be so shown ; the moon is high in the heavens ; the earth is 
 spread out at your feet. " Frozen to death " is made very em- 
 phatic. 
 
 " And that is why I am dreaming ; 
 
 I have forgotten the prayer, 
 And the faces around me waver 
 
 Far off in the misty air. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 39 
 
 There stands the blazing altar, 
 
 But it is not that I see — 
 Only the twinkling tapers 
 
 In the boughs of a Christmas tree. 
 There hang the wreaths of holly, 
 
 And the white-starred mistletoe, 
 And the shadows dart and nicker 
 
 In the great fire's ruddy glow — 
 It kindles even the midnight, 
 
 And warms the breast of the snow ! 
 
 She explains or apologizes for herself in the first line ; in the sec- 
 ond she is troubled about her forgetfulness ; in the third and fourth 
 lines she seems to be looking far off in the misty air. Her con- 
 sciousness tells her that the blazing altar is before her, and yet she 
 sees only the twinkling tapers in a Christmas tree. She imagines 
 that she sees the " wreaths of holly" and the " white-starred mistle- 
 toe," and that the great fire lights up the midnight and warms the 
 snow. 
 
 "I am dreaming — only dreaming — 
 
 Hark ! what do the voices say ? 
 The waifs sing under my window, 
 
 Out in the dawning gray — 
 Singing of Bethlehem's stable, 
 
 And the Child who was born to-day ! 
 Or is it the nuns who are chanting, 
 
 Chanting sweet and slow, 
 A rhyme of forgotten childhood, 
 
 Lost so long ago ? 
 
 In her confusion she fancies she must be " dreaming — only 
 dreaming." A listening attitude is taken as " Hark " is spoken, 
 and continued on " what do the voices say." " Bethlehem's sta- 
 ble " and " Child" are words of value and must have due emphasis. 
 She is confused again upon the seventh line ; in the last two lines 
 she tries to recall something which is all but lost to memory. 
 
4 o ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Under the holly branches, 
 
 In the yule-log's flame and flare, 
 Under the Christmas tapers 
 
 Shine the old faces fair! 
 Round me the warmth comes creeping 
 
 Of arms, that clasped and clung 
 Stronger than arms of a mother, 
 
 When love and dreams were young! 
 So warm — so strong ! — they held me 
 
 Till Death breathed cold between, 
 And I think I died, with the dreaming, 
 
 And all that might have been. 
 
 Back she goes in fancy to her childhood's home — long before she 
 had given up all for the church. The story of her life is rather indi- 
 cated than told; she seems to have suffered the loss of earthly affec- 
 tion by the death of one she loved, and she says, " Death breathed 
 cold between, and I think I died." How hopelessly are the last 
 two words uttered ! 
 
 "Now it is cold forever, 
 
 And the world lies white and dead. 
 With the snow for a shroud wrapped round her, 
 
 And the stars lit at her head. 
 Are they stars, or the Christmas candles, 
 
 That shine in the icy air ? 
 The Christ from His cross has vanished 
 
 And a little Child stands there — 
 Stretching His hand to lead me 
 
 Out of the cold — ah ! where ?" 
 
 Her face lights up with joy as she utters the words of the second 
 and third lines from the close of the stanza : 
 " And a little Child stands there 
 Stretching His hand to lead me." 
 " Out of the cold " is given shiveringly. "Ah ! where ? " 
 Though the question " where " is asked, it is not because the 
 future is blank or dark to her. There is joy in her release from 
 earth, and faith that all will be well beyond. We can imagine 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 4 i 
 
 that to hei eyes fading to things of sense a beatific vision 
 may have opened. The right hand in normo-vkal attitude will be 
 stretched upward to the right, the position of the head will be 
 mento-vital, the expression of the eyes mento-vital. 
 
 Clearly through the frosty silence 
 
 In the tower the chimes are ringing ; 
 In the gray old chapel's choir 
 
 Loud and sweet the nuns are singing; 
 Only one is kneeling dumbly — 
 
 In her wide and weary eyes, 
 On her lips, like marble carven, 
 
 Death's unfathomed wonder lies — 
 For the mystic Guide hath led her, 
 
 Smiling, into Paradise. 
 
 Bring out " loud and sweet" with good expression. " Only one 
 is kneeling dumbly — ," a gesture may be given on " one " in the direc- 
 tion where in imagination you have placed the kneeling nun. Give 
 almost a perfect monotone on " Death's unfathomed wonder lies." 
 The last line of the stanza confirms the directions given for reading 
 the closing portion of the preceding stanza. 
 
 Out of the gates of sunrise 
 
 The herald dawn breaks sweet ; 
 Over the hills and valleys 
 
 Day comes with shining feet ; 
 Over the heaving ocean 
 
 And the plains of ice and snow, 
 And over the Holy City 
 
 Where Christ walked long ago ; 
 Over the eyes unseeing 
 
 Wakens the Christmas morn — 
 Unto the dead and living 
 Stretches the Hand forgiving — 
 
 And the Child is born ! 
 
 Close by reading this last stanza brightly, joyously yet religiously, 
 as if Christmas morning were in every sense the herald of peace on 
 earth and good will to men. 
 
42 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 FISHING. 
 
 Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 
 
 MAYBE this is fun, sitting in the sun, 
 With a book and parasol, as my angler wishes, 
 While he dips his line in the ocean brine, 
 
 Under the delusion that his bait will catch the fishes. 
 
 Tis romantic — yes ! but I must confess 
 
 Thoughts of shady rooms at home somehow seem more inviting. 
 But I dare not move. " Quiet, there, my love," 
 
 Says my angler, " for I think a monstrous fish is biting," 
 
 Oh, of course, it's bliss — still how hot it is ! 
 
 And the rock I'm sitting on grows harder every minute, 
 While my fisher waits, trying various baits, 
 
 But the basket at his side, I see, has nothing in it. 
 
 It is just the way to pass a July day — 
 
 Arcadian and sentimental, dreamy, idle, charming; 
 
 But how fierce the sunlight falls, and the way that insect crawls 
 Along my neck and down my back is really quite alarming. 
 
 " Any luck ? " I gently ask of the angler at his task. 
 
 "There's something pulling at the line," he says; "I've almost 
 caught it ; " 
 But when, with a blistered face, we our homeward steps retrace, 
 
 We take the little basket just as empty as we brought it. 
 
 There is a wonderful, witching charm about this little poem. It is 
 very sprightly in manner throughout, and is full of nice points which 
 must be brought out delicately, but clearly. It affords not only a 
 fine study, but is an admirable recitation. It is really easier to give 
 a "blood and thunder" piece which may have a general expression 
 of noise, than a selection of this kind. 
 
 "This is fun, maybe" expresses the idea of the first line in plain 
 prose. In the text the words are transposed, but this does not 
 change the emphasis. " Fun " should be given with a rising wave 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 43 
 
 of a fifth, and " maybe," which is the word that changes the simple 
 statement to one of doubt, and is thereby used in contrast, with a 
 corresponding falling wave. In the last line of the first stanza there 
 is very marked compound stress on "delusion." "That his bait 
 will catch the fishes " is given with a very innocent expression of 
 face and voice, but is ended and followed with light laughter. " 'Tis 
 romantic" is said with mock seriousness and much emphasis, accom- 
 panied by a long sigh and followed with a little shake of* the head. 
 "Yes" is spoken solemnly and accompanied by a nod of acquies- 
 cence. " Confess " is emphasized by a rising wave, and " shady, 
 rooms, home " with falling. There should be an upward slide of a 
 fifth on "inviting." " I dare not move " is given in monotone, with 
 slightly aspirate coloring. " Quiet, there," a very gentle but decided 
 command, is given with radical stress and prone hand extended. 
 "Monstrous" is given with median stress to represent great size. 
 The angler speaks low and cautiously, however, so as not to 
 frighten his prey. " Oh, of course, it's bliss " is given rapturously, 
 but it is followed by a sigh on " still," and a woeful tone on " how 
 hot it is," with marked final stress and aspirated tone on " hot." 
 There is a slight indication of complaint as the further discomfort of 
 the narrator is described by the line " And the rock I'm sitting on 
 grows harder every minute." There is a little craning of the neck 
 as if looking over into the basket as she says, " But the basket at his 
 side, I see." There is a rhetorical pause after " has " filled with a 
 negative shake of the head and continued as she says " nothing in 
 it." There is a delicate irony in the line " It is just the way to pass 
 a July day." " Arcadian and sentimental, dreamy, idle, charming " is 
 given with general drift of median stress. Quicken the time and 
 give energy to the words " But how fierce the sunlight falls," and 
 intensify much more " and the way that insect crawls along my back 
 and down my neck." Pause slightly after " neck " and emphasize 
 "alarming." "Any luck?" is asked with compound stress on 
 "luck." Pause after " something," quicken the time on " pulling at 
 the line," while intense hopefulness is expressed on " I've almost 
 caught it." Emphasize " blistered face " and " steps retrace." 
 Give in simple descriptive way " We take the little basket," pause 
 while the listeners wonder whether it is full or otherwise, and add 
 "just as empty," with rising slide on " just " and " as," and dis- 
 tinctly falling on "empty" and "brought." There will be a 
 roguish tone and look as the last few words are spoken, and the 
 rhythm of word, tone and movement is completed by giving a 
 downward stroke with the index finger of the right hand on 
 " empty " and " brought." 
 
44 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 MRS. MAGOOGIN ON SPRING BONNETS 
 AND SPRING POETRY. 
 
 John J. Jenkins. 
 
 The follovving is a very clever bit of dialect. To give it well, use compound 
 stress, which is a peculiarity of the Irish brogue, and pronounce the words as 
 
 they are spelled. 
 
 U 0° yC loike s P rin S poethry, Mrs. McGlaggerty ? " the widow 
 
 LJ began. 
 
 "I nuver read it, Mrs. Magoogin," the neighbor replied. 
 
 " Naither do Oi," said the widow. " But me daughter, Toozy, 
 goes into uxtashies over id, an' bechuxt hersel' an' her husband 
 Hinnery they all a-mosht droives me crazy wud their shlobberin' an' 
 their nonsinse." 
 
 " What's id all about, annyhow ? " 
 
 "About nawthin' at all," the widow replied. " Nawthin' but 
 blyue berds singin' in the lane, an' flyowers in blyoom, an' silver 
 shtrains, an' stars on the moonloight, an' all that soort av rubbish 
 that they puts in bukes wud green covers an thim, an' goold an th' 
 inds av th' laives. To tell ye the trooth, Mrs. McGlaggerty, the 
 shtuff makes me sick, an' as Oi tells Toozy an' Hinnery, the gom- 
 machs that wroites that nonsinse ought to be pit in the loonyatico 
 asoylum, fwhere they'll not be let wroite anny- more av it. ' But 
 m'mmaw,' Toozy'll say to me, ' that's poethry, spring poethry, 
 mimmaw ! ' ' Mebbe it is,' sez Oi ; 'that makes it no betther an' no 
 worse. Oi'd suner have a gud plate av corn beef an' cabbage anny 
 day in the wake,' sez Oi, ' than a wagon load av it.' ' Oh, mim- 
 maw ! ' sez she, ' Yis, an' oh, mimmaw,' sez Oi ' Ye don't mane 
 that,' sez she. ' May the devil busht me aff Oi don't,' sez Oi. 
 ' Oh, Moother Magoogin ! ' sez Hinnery. 'An' oh, Soon-in-law 
 Hinnery,' sez Oi. ' Ye can't be so Moondane in yer sperrit,' sez 
 he. ' Can't Oi ? ' sez Oi ; ' Oi'll be Moondane an' Chuesdane an' 
 Winsdane, too, aff Oi loike,' sez Oi, ' fur bad scran to th' dhrop av 
 aijiot'sblud cooises in Berdie Magoogin's veins,' sez Oi ; 'an' lish'en, 
 Hinnery Dinkelshpale, afF ye undhertake to laive yer hair grow long 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 45 
 
 an' make a wurthliss, gud-fur-nawthin' hairy owld poit av yersel', 
 inshtud av shtickin' to th' tobacky facht'ry, ye'd betther pack yer 
 duds an' say gud-bye to this shanty,' sez Oi. That shut himsel' an' 
 Toozy up an th' poethry bezniss, an' the nuxt thing Oi knowed they 
 war havin' a pitched battle about a spring bonnet. Toozy wanted 
 wan thrimmed in yally an' red, wud a sky-tarrier's eye shtickin' out 
 av a roseet in front, an' Hinnery sed he kudn't affoord it. Well, 
 Mrs. McGlaggerty, Oi'm glad that Oi'm not a s'coiety belle, me 
 frmd, to be afther havin' to get a noo bonnet uv'ry toime the sun 
 luks crukked at th' airth. This owld shkoy shcraper's gud enoof fur 
 army saison, an' it nuvur goes out av fashion. Noo spring bon- 
 nets, indade ! Fwhoy, it id kape wan poor aiven lukin' at them ! Oi 
 don't know fwhether Toozy brawt Hinnery to toime or not, Mrs. 
 McGlaggerty, but there's wan thing Oi kin tell ye, an' it's not two, 
 an' that is that Toozy'll get the noo bonnet aff there's wan to be had, 
 hoigh or low, ur there'll be a divorsht bechuxt the Dinkelshpales an' 
 the Magoogins. Do ye moind that, Mrs. McGlaggerty ! " 
 
 JULIET. 
 
 Louis F. Austin. 
 
 AND so the new Juliet charms you — her beauty has set you 
 ablaze ? 
 And were you a critic (God save us!) what columns and columns of 
 
 praise ! 
 But now you complain of the scribblers, whose spite is the curse of 
 
 the press, 
 Because they seem eagerly banning what you are so eager to bless ; 
 Or else they are nicely adjusting proportions of merit and blame, 
 While you want to take a great trumpet, and fill all the world with 
 
 her fame. 
 
 And this is her picture ? Well, truly, heaven favors so winning a 
 
 face ; 
 Her tresses, you say, are like sunbeams, her figure a vision of grace; 
 
46 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Her eyes are as wells in the desert to travelers faint and forlorn, 
 And love on her lips has been playing since sighs in her bosom 
 
 were born. 
 Yet never for me is the glamor that makes your pulse hurriedly 
 
 beat — 
 Though planets re-echoed her praises, and the world were a slave 
 
 at her feet, 
 /never could look on your Juliet — your homage could never be 
 
 mine, 
 For there lives a dead face in my memory that holds all my soul in 
 
 its shrine. 
 
 » 
 The years have slipped by — nearly twenty — since I saw in the 
 
 spring of success 
 My Juliet, happy and peerless, whose whisper was like a caress; 
 Her hair took its hue from the woodlands, when their auburn was 
 
 glinted with gold ; 
 Her eyes stole the dew from the violets, as they slept in the moss 
 
 on the wold ; 
 And even the veriest dullard, on whom fell that rapturous glance, 
 Has felt all his spirit transfigured by love and the glow of romance. 
 
 " Ah, Romeo, envied of mortals, leave idle lamenting and sighs ! 
 Away from this cruel Verona you should bear so precious a prize!" 
 How often like this have I murmured, as night after night in my 
 
 stall 
 I watched that sad story unfolding — from the kiss in the Capulet's 
 
 hall 
 To the last and terrible meeting, when they, who bright paths 
 
 should have trod, 
 In death and the grave were united, and together ascended to God. 
 
 One night I shall ever remember, as captives remember their chains, 
 A strange and subtle foreboding ran icily cold through my veins, 
 When Juliet, drinking the potion in a frenzy of longing and dread, 
 Imagines her solitude peopled with horrible shapes of the dead ; 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 47 
 
 And day after day was I haunted as if by the coming of woe — 
 I dreamed of her stretched in a charnel, arrayed for some terrible 
 
 show ; 
 But still to the world not a shadow had darkened that splendid 
 
 career — 
 My Juliet, happy and peerless, what evil to her could be near? 
 
 'Twas Paris, one morning in spring-time, and over the street's human 
 
 stream 
 Her radiant face for a moment had passed like a silvery gleam ; 
 I thought of the gloomy foreboding that once through my blood 
 
 sent its chill, 
 And smiled at the strange superstition that fancied such horrible ill; 
 And all the day longin the sunlight I mixed with the carnival throng, 
 I laughed at the gambols of children, I listened to music and 
 
 song . . . 
 What is that ? A hush — then a murmur — some gossip is tickling 
 
 the town — 
 The last escapade of a beauty, a scandal that kills some renown ! 
 But, no ; it is something that saddens this thoughtless, mercurial 
 
 mob ; 
 Men's eyes with teardrops are glistening — the women beginning 
 
 to sob. 
 What is it ? " Ah, monsieur, what pity ! To perish so young and 
 
 alone, 
 And lie in the Morgue like an outcast, to all human kindred un- 
 known ! " 
 Who is it ? " The great English actress — " I paused not a breath 
 
 for the name, 
 For horror's fell hand seemed to choke me, and my brain was filled 
 
 with a flame ! 
 In the Morgue ! My God, it was true, then ! The fate of my 
 
 vision had come ! 
 The dew had gone back to the violets — that voice so caressing was 
 
 dumb ! 
 
ETHAN ALLEN. (Abridged and Adapted.) 
 
 Prof. George Lansing Raymond, L. H. D. 
 
 48 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 And only the light of the woodlands still clung to that delicate 
 
 head, 
 Like rays of the bounteous sunshine that play on the vaults of the 
 
 dead. 
 
 The Morgue ! How I reached it I know not, but I broke through 
 
 the curious crowd, 
 Who shrank from me, pallid and startled, as if from a ghost in a 
 
 shroud ! 
 And I found her, so fair and so dainty, surrounded by horrible clay — 
 The ghastly account of self- slaughter, the victim of feud and affray ; 
 And here was the clutch of the river, and there was the hideous stab ! 
 Ah, tragedies never were written like those on that sorrowful slab ! 
 
 But oh, for the spirit so tender that never again would illume 
 The form that lay solemn and silent, forever bereft of its bloom ! 
 Midst aliens mortaliy'stricken, just heaven, 'twas cruel to die — 
 No friend her last look to remember, to catch her last shuddering 
 
 sigh ! 
 And now it was only a stranger who mourned o'er that still lovely 
 
 face, 
 And kissed the cold hand of sweet Juliet, as he knelt in that heart- 
 chilling place ! 
 
 The years have gone by — nearly twenty — and yet all the grief of 
 
 that scene, 
 As though it were yesterday's anguish, still lives in my memory 
 
 green. 
 
 This poem is full of the fire of patriotism ; and, while it is always a capital reci- 
 tation, it is peculiarly suitable to he given upon any day of national interest and 
 commemoration. After the battle of Lexington the British troops, nicknamed 
 "red-coats," were reinforced, and the federals found their munitions of war 
 insufficient to keep back the invading host. The provisional Assembly of Con- 
 necticut then devised the plan of seizing Fort Ticonderoga, which was held by 
 the British and was known to be well stored with arms. Eighteen gallant men 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 49 
 
 started out ; they were reinforced along the way until when they arrived at Ben- 
 nington the number had reached forty. Here E'han Allen joined them, and with 
 him came one hundred Green Mountain Boys, as the sons of Vermont were 
 called, and fifty men from Massachusetts. Allen was unanimously elected leader. 
 At Cambridge and afterward at Ticonderoga, Arnold claimed the right to com- 
 mand, but his orders were not heeded. When opposite Ticonderoga the force 
 was divided and detachments were sent in different directions to capture all boats 
 which could be found, while Allen and eighty-three men under cover of darkness 
 crossed Lake Champlain and moved toward the fort. 
 
 Just as the day dawned the leader thus addressed his men : " We must quit 
 our pretentions to valor, or possess this fortress ; it is a desperate attempt, and I 
 do not urge it contrary to will ; you who will undertake, voluntarily, poise your 
 firelocks." At the word every gun was poised, and when the command was 
 given the American soldiers rushed into the fort and raised an Indian war-whoop. 
 The British commander, De la Place, had not yet risen from his bed when Allen 
 thundered at his door : " Deliver the fort to me instantly." " By what author- 
 ity," asked the officer. " In the name of the great Jehovah, and the Continental 
 Congress," was the answer. The door was opened; and when Allen and his men 
 were seen advancing with drawn swords, no more words were wasted. The 
 prisoners of war were marched off to Hartford, and the American army was en- 
 riched by one hundred and twenty pieces of cannon, fifty swivels, two ten-inch 
 mortars, ten tons of musket ball, three cart-loads of flint, one hundred stand 
 of small arms and ten casks of powder. To become thoroughly interested 
 in this poem,- so as to give it with all the power required, it would be well to read 
 the accounts given by Lossing and Bancroft. 
 
 In order to bring the poem to the length of an ordinary recitation, it is very 
 much abridged. The last stanza is added by the author of this book. 
 
 r PHE bell that rang at Lexington 
 1 Had called our men to arms; 
 And but their wives and children, now, 
 Remain'd to work the farms. 
 
 Begin the recitation with full voice, especially clear and ringing 
 on " bell," which is made emphatic and followed by a pause. 
 Drop the pitch slightly at the explanatory and parenthetic clause 
 " that rang at Lexington ;" dwell for an instant on ng in "rang," 
 after which pause and then give final stress (<^) to " Lexington. " 
 Give staccato force to first two and last two words of the second 
 line, principal emphasis on "men " and lesser on "arms." Lower the 
 voice very much for the next two lines, and speak with slow time 
 and tone somewhat colored with pathos ; pause after " but, re- 
 mained," lower the voice on " now," and make " wives, children, 
 work, farms," emphatic. 
 
 Fill'd full of red-coats, Boston seero'd, 
 
 They said, a wounded prey ; 
 And now drank in fresh draughts of blood 
 
 From fleets that fill'd the bay. 
 
50 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Start in with second stanza strongly emphasizing " red-coats." 
 Give downward slide on " Boston " and upward on " seemed ;" the 
 parenthetic phrase " they said " is read with lower voice and quicker 
 time. Give an upward wave of a fifth with a slight tremulous stress 
 on "wounded," and let the voice drop on "prey" which is made 
 emphatic. By properly grouping the words in the third and 
 fourth lines and separating by pauses, we have ".and now drank in 
 fresh draughts of blood from fleets that filled the bay." 
 " Draughts " is made quite emphatic. 
 
 To check their march, our earth-works still 
 
 Like mushrooms grew by night ; 
 But, if attack'd, our men would not 
 
 Have arms with which to fight. 
 
 The third stanza is introduced by a parenthetic phrase with em- 
 phasis on "check" and "march." "Earthworks," which is the 
 subject of the sentence, is made emphatic and followed by a pause, 
 while " mushrooms," which describes the rapidity with which the 
 earth-works were thrown up, is given with much greater emphasis, it 
 being the rising wave of a fifth. Emphasis is given to "attack'd," 
 with rising slide on " our" and falling on " men," rising on "would 
 not have " and falling on " arms," with rhetorical pauses after 
 " arms " and " which." 
 
 At Hartford our Assembly was, 
 
 And heard this ; nor in vain 
 But started men for arms that stock'd 
 
 The fort on Lake Champlain. 
 
 " Our Assembly was at Hartford," is the plain prose of the first line ; 
 and " Assembly " and " Hartford " are emphasized. The rising inflec- 
 tion is given to " heard "and the fallingto " this;" " vain "is decidedly 
 emphatic. As there was not a moment to be lost, quick time is 
 given to the third line, " But started men for arms;" emphasize 
 •' arms " and " fort." Read " Lake Champlain " as if the words 
 were spoken in answer to the question, " where was the fort ? " 
 
 These passed to Pittsfield, there were joined 
 
 By Easton, Brown, and more ; 
 Then on to Bennington, and there 
 
 Could muster full two score. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 51 
 
 " Pittsfield, Easton, Brown, more, Bennington " are emphatic, the 
 great force being given to " Pittsfield " and " Bennington." " Could 
 muster full — ," make pause as if the listener would wait breathlessly 
 for the number, and then add with clear voice, " two score." 
 
 The sun that dawn'd before them here, 
 
 And brought them help indeed, 
 Was Ethan Allen's sword, that flash'd 
 
 His mountain troops to lead. 
 
 What was " the sun that dawned before them and brought them 
 help?" It "was Ethan Allen's sword." What word answers to the 
 place of where this took place? "Here." What kind of help? 
 " Help indeed," meaning valuable help. What did Ethan Allen's 
 sword do ? It " flashed." For what purpose ? To lead his 
 troops. What troops ? " His mountain troops." If the above 
 stanza is given as if all these questions had been asked and 
 answered, the correct rendering will be given. " Ethan Allen's 
 sword" is the principal word of value; "flashed" should be given 
 quickly, with final stress. 
 
 And thick as rills that rift in spring, 
 
 Each bond the sun destroys, 
 Came pouring over all those hills — 
 
 His grand Green Mountain Boys. 
 
 Who came over the hills ? The " Green Mountain Boys." 
 What was the character of these " Boys ? " They were " grand." 
 Dwell upon this word as if you admire and honor the men to whom 
 it is applied. How did they come ? " Pouring over (the) hills." 
 Give the first two lines of this stanza with quick time, and bring out 
 the last line as if paying noble tribute to every son of Vermont. 
 
 Ere long, a shout went ringing out, 
 
 For all had made their choice, 
 And all had chosen Allen chief; 
 
 And " Forward ! " called his voice. 
 
 " Ere long " is parenthetic ; give " shout " explosively, with bell- 
 like tone on " ringing out." The words of value in second line are 
 " all " and " choice ;" in the third " all " and " Allen." Pause after 
 " Allen ; " while there is a rest of the voice, the mind supplies the 
 thought which fills the ellipsis, thus, " Allen (for the) chief." The 
 office is accepted, and his first word in the military command, 
 
52 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Forward ! " is given with a tone which in itself denotes the leader's 
 power. 
 
 Three days they tramped, then Allen said : 
 
 " We near the lake, I see ; 
 Let some go north and some go south, 
 
 And some straight on with me." 
 
 This opens in simple descriptive style. " Then Allen said " is 
 parenthetic; resume the tone on " We near the lake." "I see" is 
 also parenthetic. Emphasize "some north," "some south," giving 
 upward inflection to " north " and downward to " south " as the words 
 are in contrast. In the last line emphasize " some," pause after, and 
 read " straight on " with strong force ; pause after " on " and quicken 
 time on "with me." 
 
 A few there were could cross at last ; 
 
 Alas, but all too few ! 
 Night sped, and Allen, by the fort, 
 
 Could count scarce eighty-two. 
 
 Read the first line as if regretting that the number were not more, 
 and take tone of unmistakable sadness on "Alas ! " which is given 
 tremulously with falling slide; "but all too few" presents a very dis- 
 couraging idea, and should be given pathetically. The rising in- 
 flection is given to " night," and falling to " sped." "Allen could 
 count eighty-two " is the sentence. Read the number as if it repre- 
 sented but a handful of men. Show by the tone that you regret 
 there were no more. 
 
 You will be glad that the hero of Ticonderoga is equal to the 
 emergency, as we learn in the following : 
 
 " My men," he muttered, "look, the dawn ! 
 
 Before can cross the lake 
 One boat again, for other men, 
 
 The day in full will break. 
 
 The faint streak of day gilds the eastern horizon. Allen stretches 
 out his arm and with his hand describes the outline, as with a quick, 
 explosive utterance he cries " look, the dawn ! " Give quick time 
 on second and third lines, and emphasize "day "and "full" in 
 fourth line. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 53 
 
 " Yet note the wall. You know it well 
 
 Ten times our force, if seen, ( 
 Though clad in mail, could never scale 
 
 Those cannon thick between. 
 
 He points now to the fort and says, " Yet note the wall." The 
 remainder of the line is spoken rapidly. "Ten times" is very 
 emphatic ; " our " is given with inverted wave, and " force " with 
 direct wave ; " if seen," though parenthetic, is given much value. 
 " Ten times our force (even) though clad in mail, — " this last 
 word is made very emphatic, as is also " could never scale," with 
 especial force given by the inverted wave on " never " and direct 
 on "scale." In the last line " cannon " is emphatic. The word 
 " thick " is spoken as if the balls were so near each other that it 
 would be almost impossible to get between them. 
 
 " Now quick, but quiet ; start with steel ; 
 
 Nor fire till sure to hit. 
 First through the gate, if through we may, 
 
 If not, then over it. 
 
 All depends upon stealing on the enemy while they are asleep, 
 and if this is done no time can be lost. He looks into the eager 
 faces of his men and gives the command, " Now quick, but quiet." 
 They are to go with sword in hand, and are commanded not to " fire 
 till sure to hit." Emphasize " quick, quiet, start, steel, fire, sure, 
 hit." In third line, emphasize " through the gate." " If through we 
 may " is given lower ; pause after " if not," and make " over " 
 emphatic. 
 
 " I lead, you follow. Should I fall, 
 
 Move on ; my corpse may give 
 At least a vantage ground ! Move on ! 
 
 The cause, it is, must live ! " 
 
 " I lead, you follow ; " all words are emphatic, rising inflection on 
 " lead," falling on " follow," with gesture indicating the direction to 
 be taken. " Should I fall, — " there is no time for sighing over such 
 a possibility, and he does not dwell upon the idea. With heroic 
 courage he cries, " Move on." Give this as with an unflinching 
 resolution at whatever cost to gain the day. You may stand upon 
 my dead body if need be. Make second " Move on" much more 
 emphatic than the first. With all the patriotism you can summon, 
 say, " The cause, it is, must live." 
 
54 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Swift, one by one, by Allen led, 
 
 They plung'd along the gloom ; 
 No fear of those who, just beyond, 
 
 Might make the place their tomb. 
 
 Very quick time should be given the first line, with staccato on 
 "one by one.'' The movement made by the men is indicated by 
 the word "plunged," which is emphatic. In third line "fear" 
 should have a slide of a fifth, and gesture should be made on "just 
 beyond." Group the words and separate by pauses, " Might 
 make | the place | their tomb." 
 
 At last, uploomed in dusky light, 
 
 And choking all the way, 
 A man who poised his bayonet 
 
 To hold them all at bay. 
 
 As they enter the fort they are stopped by a sentinel. 
 
 " Take heed ! " he called. " We take it, man," 
 
 Hiss'd Allen, where he sped ; 
 Whose clashing sword had glanced the gun, 
 
 And gash'd the soldier's head. 
 
 " Take heed " the sentinel calls with bayonet pointed at the in- 
 truders. " We take it, man " was the answer. . Make this very 
 emphatic; paint the word "hissed" slightly; "where he sped " is 
 given in quick time. We learn in the last two lines that Allen's 
 sword had parried the gun and "gashed the soldier's head ; " s'h in 
 " gashed " should be given with force, as it colors the word ; empha- 
 size "soldier's head." 
 
 " Have mercy ! " groan'd the wounded wretch. 
 
 Said Allen : " Drop your gun. 
 Hist, hist my men ! we're in the fort, 
 
 Now seize the barracks — run ! " 
 
 The wounded sentinel in pleading tone and attitude cries " Have 
 mercy," and for answer hears the order from Allen, " Drop your gun." 
 This order must not be given loudly, but its dreadful distinctness 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 55 
 
 should leave no doubt of the necessity of obeying it. They are 
 now in the fort and greater secrecy must be observed. " Hist ! hist 
 my men " is given in distinct whisper, as is the whole of the last line. 
 Make a movement of caution with the hand extended prone and 
 waved slightly upon "hist, hist," and a vigorous passage of the arm 
 and hand on " run." 
 
 No need to bid them ! In a trice 
 
 Our boys have crown'd their race, 
 And closed, with shouts like thousands round, 
 
 The soldiers' sleeping place. 
 
 At the command the men rush in. No need of silence now. The 
 Indian war-whoop given with a will by eighty men seemed to the 
 red-coats, so suddenly waked from sleep, to come from a thousand 
 lusty throats. 
 
 Meantime, " The captain ! " Allen cried ; 
 
 And scarce the word had said, 
 Ere on a door he pounded loud 
 
 To rouse his foe from bed. 
 
 " The Captain " is spoken with very quick and emphatic tone. 
 "Allen cried " is parenthetic. "And scarce the word had said" is 
 given with quick time and in a monotone. Emphasize " door, 
 pounded, loud, rouse, foe, bed." 
 
 " Surrender ! " order'd Allen then ; 
 
 " If not, by Him on high, 
 Your garrison — without a hope 
 
 For quarter from us — die ! " 
 
 " Surrender " is given in loud, commanding tone and is followed 
 by a threat — , " If not, by Him on high, your garrison (shall) die." 
 These last two words are made very emphatic. Make long pause 
 before " die " and the intensity is increased. 
 
 The Captain's anger now had burst 
 
 The spell of night's repose. 
 " Surrender ? " hiss'd he — then turn'd pale 
 
 To hear those shouts that rose. 
 
56 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Surrender ? " should be given very emphatically with compound 
 stress. The surprised captain starts in bravely enough, but turns 
 pale as he hears the shouts of the invaders. 
 
 "And who are you ? " he stammer'd out, 
 
 "And whose is this ado ? 
 And whose the name in which you come, 
 
 And bid us yield to you? " 
 
 He weakens in spirit but goes on as bravely as he can. Emphasize 
 " who, you, whose, ado, whose, name, which, come, bid, yield, you." 
 
 " The name of great Jehovah, man," 
 
 Said Allen, drawing nigh, 
 "And the Continental Congress ! " while 
 
 Defiance fired his eye. 
 
 The answer of the hero of Ticonderoga is known to every Ameri- 
 can, and there is not a man who is not proud of it. The expression 
 of figure and the tone of voice is commanding in the highest degree. 
 Give force to " name " and pause after it. Make " great Jehovah " 
 very emphatic. " Said Allen, drawing nigh," is explanatory and pai- 
 enthetic, and is low and quick. Now ring out " Continentai 
 Congress," as if gathering all the nations of the world in one ami 
 speaking for them all. Give final stress on " defiance" and staccato 
 movement on " fired his eye." 
 
 The day was won ; the garrison 
 
 Filed out across the green, 
 More general welcome when they came 
 
 I think was seldom seen. 
 
 " The day was won." It is a simple statement, but should be 
 given as if the information was of great value. Now you see ;1il- 
 poor, crestfallen garrison as they "filed out across the green.' 
 " Welcome " is emphatic. The last two lines are given with < 
 merry twinkle of the eye, and a general expression of satisfactioi 
 over the victory. 
 
 Ten score of cannon, mounds of flint, 
 
 And tons of guns and balls — 
 We waited weeks to find the means 
 
 To cart them out the walls. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 57 
 
 Make much of the munitions of war which were captured, by 
 giving full emphasis to " ten score of cannon, mounds of flint.'' 
 Speak of " mounds " as if they were many and of great size. The 
 last two lines should be given laughingly, emphasizing " weeks, cart, 
 walls." 
 
 Go search those mountain woods 
 
 And valleys, humbly trod 
 By souls whose simple faith holds on 
 
 To country, home, and God. 
 
 The words of value are " search, woods, valleys, humbly, trod, 
 souls, faith, country, home, God." 
 
 Ask whom they love, whom they revere, 
 
 And all with one acclaim 
 Will swell the chorus long and loud 
 
 Of Ethan Allen's name. 
 
 Words of value — , " whom, love, whom, revere, all, acclaim, swell, 
 chorus, long, loud." As " Ethan Allen's name " is spoken, there 
 should be a movement of the arm in spiral gesture, as if you were 
 giving a cheer and with a will. If you end in this exultant manner 
 you will have your audience in such full sympathy, that you will 
 doubtless be greeted with well-deserved applause. 
 
 EASTER IN A HOSPITAL BED. 
 
 Nym Crinkle. 
 
 Imagine the scene. Feel for the sufferer. When you read the sketch, try to 
 make your audience see and feel. 
 
 The beat of the village church bell in A minor brought magical 
 pictures to the memory of " No. 106," and she passed through the 
 gates of death dreaming that she breathed the odor of lilacs. 
 t/ * * * 
 
 NUMBER 106" must have been a beautiful woman once. 
 You could see sad traces of loveliness in her wrecked face, 
 lying there only a trifle less blanched than the pillow, and framed in 
 by brown hair that reached out upon the linen like running vines 
 
58 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 The shadows under her big brown eyes were ominous, but the curve 
 of her splendid mouth had not been destroyed by the lines of pain. 
 She looked up wearily as the doctor passed her, and with just the 
 faintest interest in the matter said, in a weak and slightly husky 
 voice that must once have been a rich contralto : 
 
 " What day is this ? " 
 
 The doctor turned as he went by and replied : 
 
 " Sunday. Easter Sunday ! " 
 
 " One hundred and six " opened her eyes a little at the reply. 
 Her conception of time had been confused by six weeks on that 
 bed. The only events that had come to her were in the shape of 
 nurses and doctors. She had a vague sense that just beyond that 
 window, which this morning was pulled down to let in the soft 
 spring air, there was a big, flowing river. The rest was uncertain. 
 
 Easter Sunday made her wonder. The two words somehow con- 
 nected themselves with the soft air that came in at the window. 
 " Easter Sunday " she repeated several times inaudibly, as if trying 
 to put her emotions into some kind of intelligible form. 
 
 The inner necromancy of association began to work its mystic 
 spell. It was so still there in the " hopeless ward " that every outer 
 sound came in clearly defined on that pulse of spring air. And 
 then her senses were strangely sharpened. Something whipped her 
 back over the years and held her close against the blossomy long- 
 ago, gently and firmly. She heard the voices on the river; how 
 dewy and mellow they sounded ; but they seemed to come across 
 the old meadow. She heard the flutter and chirp of the sparrows 
 round the casement, but they were the swallows round that little 
 garret window of hers, where the honeysuckle hung thick and the 
 yellow jackets buzzed and droned, and where she so often sat and 
 dreamed the dream of love and hope. 
 
 All the actual details of the cold, inevitable present melted into 
 the sunshiny past. A barrel-organ somewhere in the neighborhood 
 was piping " Annie Laurie." The cadences came in little elfin 
 echoes, strangely inwrought with a sad, far-away perfume. She 
 dropped her eyelids half way, and pillowed herself on the reverie. 
 She could hear Molly calling her from the little parlor downstairs ; 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 59 
 
 the mystic sounds of the barrel-organ got to be the tones of the old 
 melodeon that stood in the parlor, and Molly's voice accompanied 
 it as she practiced the Easter anthem. 
 
 "Are you coming, Jen ? we shall be late." 
 
 How inexpressibly familiar and dear the sister's words were now, 
 Just then the clang of a church bell mingled with the spring sounds. 
 It was a clear A minor, with a little tremolo in it. 
 
 With her white face turned toward the window and the light, 
 impassively, her soul /was traveling over the country roads. Mar- 
 velous how she saw every rock and tree that was associated with an 
 emotion ! She got over the stile and Seth Purdy's stone fence, and 
 caught her dress in the old spike that had been used to mend the 
 steps — just as she must have done before at some time. And Molly 
 laughed at her distress. She ran down the juniper lane in Squire 
 Burchard's timber, because her heart was too full to walk. She saw 
 the same hermit thrush in her pathway. She smelt the balm of 
 Gilead again. She noticed the flushed little rivers in the meadow, 
 brimming with the melted snows; she went up the rise to the little 
 church with her heart singing. Once more she was sitting in the 
 choir. Once more the kindly faces were round her. There was 
 the open window, and she could look down upon the old graveyard 
 tangled with blackberry vines. How calm and restful it all seemed. 
 The April sun was lying upon it once more, and the sap was stirring, 
 and the lilacs budding and the bees astir. Under it all and over it 
 all a girl's innocence and health, and the glorious sunshine of prom 
 ises and possibilities. Love in the service and in the long walk 
 home. Somebody handsome, gentle and hopeful, trembling at her 
 touch, and the brookslsinging madrigals for them, and the hemlocks 
 waving triumphant plumes for them, and the little community 
 smiling on them. 
 
 Still the beat of that bell in A minor. It was like a crystal of 
 sound — so clear and so full of magical pictures. She was standing 
 at the altar in that little church. Jack had hold of her hand, and 
 she felt his tremble. She could hear Molly's voice in the choral 
 hymn ring out above all the rest as they walked down the aisle — 
 married. 
 
6o ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 All the dark years that came afterward in the torrent of time 
 seemed now to settle out of sight in this still pool of retrospection. 
 Her consciousness was pulsing in A minor. Something of the 
 regenerative power of the spring penetrated her heart. There had 
 been a mistake somewhere. She would not have the ghost of 
 reality — the only real thing was that jubilant present into which she 
 had lapsed, with its glad bell summoning her. «^ 
 
 "I must get well," she murmured. "The earth is astir. It's 
 wicked to be lying here. Do you hear that bell ? It is the voice 
 of the spring calling me. I was born in April. I was married in 
 April. I'm coming, Molly. Put the flowers on the mantel; they're 
 Jack's flowers. Dear Jack, I knew you'd come back when I heard 
 the bell. Oh, Jack, I'm so tired of lying here. If you only knew 
 how I ache and how these people look at me you'd come and take 
 me away. Don't you remember how you carried me over the Saw- 
 mill river on the stones ? Dear Jack, I've remembered every word 
 you said to me. You thought I didn't, but I did. Don't you know 
 what you said when we got back from the church ? ' My darling, 
 I've got you now, and if love is strength I'm going to keep you for 
 all eternity.' Can't you turn me over so I can see your face ? " 
 
 The young doctor who was standing at the bedside laid his book 
 down and put his arm under her. It wasn't done very tenderly. 
 
 She made a weak clutch at him. " Oh, Jack, you hurt me. I'm 
 awfully sore. Don't look at me that way. I'll pick up. It's only 
 my sickness. I feel better to-day. Do you hear that bell ? — hark ! 
 You'll have to hurry, Jack. We'll be late, and Molly's so partic- 
 ular. You'll be patient with me, won't you ? My head falls over, 
 on my breast. 
 
 " Molly," she went on, in a husky whisper, and with that confu- 
 sion of identities that is a characteristic of the suspension of volition 
 — " Molly, Jen's all right, poor thing. She ought to have her hair 
 dressed, though. It's a shame to have her lying there in that con- 
 dition. You know Jack's coming, and — don't you hear the bell ? — 
 listen ! We must get her up." Then a moment later, and almost 
 inaudibly — " It's the lilacs, Jack. I'm going to take them to the 
 church. You shall carry them. What a strange odor they have 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 61 
 
 this year — it almost — it takes one's breath away — but — I am 
 happy." 
 
 Ten minutes later some one lifted her head and looked at her ; 
 then he let it fall back on the pillow. Friendless, helpless and 
 alone, she had gone through the gates of death. 
 
 As this poor, worn body was moved from the narrow bed the bells 
 were pouring their Easter clamor through the window. It was the 
 same A minor. In it the promise of resurrection, but also some- 
 thing of the threnody of life. /LyjcJl i 
 
 THE PRESS EVANGEL. 
 
 John Boyle O'Reilly. 
 
 Mr. O'Reilly writes from a full mind, and is not forced to substitute sound for 
 sense. We have no need to ask why his poem was written, and are not forced to 
 question whether it means anything. Expiring flames and soft wax lights have 
 made latter-day poetry pitiful and petty. We are glad to see occasionally one 
 poet who is troubled by a plethora rather than a dearth of thought. The typical 
 latter-day versifier is not plagued by thick-crowding fancies. 
 
 GOD'S order, " Light" when all was void and dark, 
 Brought mornless noon, a flame without a spark. 
 A gift unearned, that none may hold or hide, 
 An outer glory, not an inner guide ; 
 But flamed no star in heaven to light the soul 
 And lead the wayward thought toward Freedom's goal. 
 
 O wasted ages ! Whither have you led 
 The breeding masses for their daily bread ? 
 Engendered serfs, across a world of gloom, 
 The wavelike generations reach the tomb. 
 Masters and lords, they feared a lord's decree, 
 Nor freedom knew nor truth to make them free. 
 
 But hark ! A sound has reached the servile herd! 
 Strong brows are raised to catch the passing word ; 
 
62 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 From mouth to mouth, a common whisper flies; 
 A wildfire message burns on lips and eyes ; 
 Far oft" and near the kindred tidings throng — 
 How hopes come true, how heroes challenge wrong; 
 Hon men have rights above all law's decrees; 
 How weak ones rise and sweep the thrones like seas! 
 Behold ! The people listen — question ! Then 
 The inner light has come — the boors are men ! 
 
 What read ye here — a dreamer's idle rule ? 
 
 A swelling pedant's lesson for a school ? 
 
 Nay, here no dreaming, no delusive charts ; 
 
 But common interests for common hearts ; 
 
 A Truth, a Principle — beneath the sun 
 
 One vibrant throb — men's rights and wrongs are one; 
 
 One heart's small keyboard touches all the notes; 
 
 One weak one's cry distends the million throats ; 
 
 Nor race nor nation bounds the human kind — 
 
 White, yellow, black — one conscience and one mind ! 
 
 How spread the doctrine? See the teachers fly — 
 The printed messages across the sky 
 From land to land as never birds could wing ; 
 With songs of promise birds could never sing; 
 With mighty meanings clearing here and there ; 
 With nation's greetings kings could never share; 
 With new communions whispering near and far; 
 With gathering armies bent on peace, not war; 
 With kindly judges reading righteous laws ; 
 With strength and cheer for every struggling cause, 
 
 Roll on, O cylinders of light, and teach 
 The helpless myriads, tongue can never reach. 
 Make men, not masses ; pulp and mud unite — 
 The single grain of sand reflects the light. 
 True freedom makes the individual free ; 
 And common law for all makes Liberty ! 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 63 
 
 A VERY BAD CASE. 
 
 F. H. Stauffer. 
 
 Recitation for a very little girl who should have a doll in hand. There is 
 an expression of mock sadness, which is kept up until the last line is given. 
 
 T T 7HAT is it ails my dollie dear ? 
 
 Somebody asks her the question, which she repeats in a doleful 
 tone. Give compound stress on " ails." 
 
 I'm not quite sure I know. 
 
 Shakes her head slowly and sadly. Upward inflection on " sure " 
 and " I," and falling on " know." 
 
 She's very sick [emphasis on " very "], 
 [ Weeping\ and if she dies 
 'Twill be a fearful blow. 
 
 She's got " ammonia " in her lungs, 
 " Plumbago " in her back, 
 A "tepid " liver, and a cough 
 That keeps her on the rack." 
 
 Give final stress on " ammonia, lungs, plumbago, back, liver, 
 cough." 
 
 She's got an " ulster " in her throat, 
 And " bunions " on her hand ; 
 Her skull is pressing on her brain — 
 'Twill have to be " japann'd." 
 
 Give' final stress on "ulster, throat, bunions, hand, skull, 
 I brain, japann'd." 
 
 I think \sighing] I'll send for Doctor Jones, 
 And Doctors Price and Bell ; 
 They'll hold a " consolation " then, 
 And maybe [nodding] she'll get well. 
 
 Rising slide of a fifth on "consolation," yet very pathetic. Last 
 line read in a sprightly way, with smiling face. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 CHARLIE. 
 
 Fanny Foster Clark. 
 
 '"INHERE were four lads of us an' a lattle lass. I war yoongest of 
 1 'em and Charlie — Charlie was t' oldest. They warn't rich folk 
 feytlier and moother, but decent an' doin' their best by us yoong uns! 
 Soomtimes i' t' soomer holidays we got leave to go oot i' feyther's 
 skiff. We war all boorn sailors — a' t' lads be along thot coost. 
 One broight day, I remember it weel, t' sea blue and clear loike a 
 precious stone, t' sun shone, t' breeze war loight, an' moother kissed 
 us four lads good-by. I war aboot six year old. Frank Avar nine, 
 the lass bidin' at whoam coom atween us two. Thin Jamie war 
 just eleven an' Charlie war oopards o' twelve. A slender lad he 
 war, wi' fair hair, as moother made him wear longish in his neck. 
 His eyes war big, gray eyes, sad and deep loike, an' t' mouth of — 
 weel, lattle seester's was no prattier. But Charlie war a strong chap, 
 too ; breave an' weel-grown. Moother kissed him last. 
 
 " Good-by my lattle captain," said she, " moind that Ned cooms to 
 no harm." Then she gives me a cake an' ar buries it in my pocket 
 — for later eatin'. 
 
 " Doantee fear, moother," says Charlie, " Ned gets no harm wi' 
 me. Coom along, babby." 
 
 I war six year old an' deadn't loike bein' called babby, but t' 
 moother laughed a' standin' in the doorway as we got intir t' boat. 
 Charlie stood oop aft as we sailed away an' waved his hat to her, 
 whoile she shaded her eyes to see him the betther. Lattle lad as I 
 were I knowed moother's eyes war red as she turned back intir t' 
 hoose, though I knew, too, that she war smilin'. I think a mooth- 
 er's smile over her yoong children have a'ways a tear in hidin'. 
 
 " Lads," says Charlie, " lets go to t' cliffs for eggs." 
 
 " Ey, ey," says Frank and Jamie, "but Ned must bide below — 
 he be too lattle to climb." 
 
 I war put oot at this, an' said I could climb as well as anybody, 
 and I would roon off to sea in a mun-o-war and climb out on big 
 spars if I warn't let oop at birds' nest on t' cliffs. Charlie sat doon 
 and took my lattle chubby hand in his long, slender fingers. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 65 
 
 " Ned," says he, " lets measure. Noo, when tha fingers grows as 
 long as mine thee shall go birds'-nestin' o' cliffs." 
 
 Then bein' takken oop with measurin' an' starin' at my sma' brown 
 knuckles, I forgot aboot t' disappointment — Charlie had sike a way 
 o' comfortin' us yoong uns. 
 
 At last we lay off t' cliffs and Frank cries out : " Yon be two old 
 gools sittin' aboove that ledge." 
 
 "I can get oop there," says Jamie, pullin' off his jacket. 
 
 " Noa," cries Charlie, " roon t' boat ashore an' we'll go oop to- 
 gether." 
 
 So we landed, and Charlie sat me doon on a big white stone, 
 brokken from t' cliffs above ; and says he, to keep me quiet and 
 amused loike, says he : " Ned, doantee forget t' cake." 
 
 I moind how greedy I war and how I kept feelin' t' cake i' my 
 pocket whoile watchin' t' lads goin' oop t' face o' t' rocks, nimble as 
 cats. Charlie war ahead, but he stopped short at an ugly shelf 
 hangin' over varry sharp ; then they all cam' oop wi' him. They 
 talked awhoile an' tried to raise oop an' peep over t' top, but it war 
 too mooch for t' yoonger lads. At last Charlie motioned wi' one free 
 hond for 'em to bide still, and he lifted himself clear oop onto t' shelf. 
 But t' nest war still higher, on a second shelf, an' t' face o' chalk 
 atween t' two slanted ootward and overhangin'. I war sike a babby 
 an so used to have t' lads climbin' that I thout it foine to see Char- 
 lie's hair blowin' loose, away oop on those hoights. I mind well t 
 pink cheek an' t' fair hair, and two old gools screechin' an' flyin' off 
 t' ooper ledge, as Charlie, huggin' close to cliff, lifted himself reet 
 oop to t' nest on t' higher shelf. He shouted soommat and I knew he 
 had t' eggs, for t' other lads began movin' doon. In a minute Char- 
 lie swung off that ooper ledge, but farther oot than when he climbed 
 oop. He bent his head atween his arms to see where his feet would 
 strike, and t' other lads shouted, carelessly, " Coom on, coom on," 
 
 but Charlie's body hung loike a plummet an' measured t' few 
 
 inches by which t' ooper ledge at that spot overlooked t' lower. 
 There war no brace for his feet, his fingers had slipped too near the 
 edge to secure a grasp that might raise him oop to f shelf he had 
 left. He hung sheer, and Charlie's drop would be straight doon t» 
 
66 ELOCUTTONARY STUDIES. 
 
 face o' t' cliff. I couldn't understand t' whole danger, but moinded 
 Charlie's face war color o' t' chalk cliffs. He spoke to t' others lads ; 
 then they turned like cliffs, too, and I could make oot their faces as 
 they cam' scramblin' doon reckless an' quick. 
 
 " Hold on, Charlie; hold on, dear Charlie," they cried, and hoor- 
 ried to t' boat. 
 
 " Ned," says Jamie, " bide quiet. Doantee scare Charlie. In two 
 minutes we'll mak you fisherman. Coom an' let a rope doon from 
 aboove. Bide still," then " hold on Charlie," they shouted an' put off 
 to some men who hoorried ashore to scale t' cliff where it war 
 lower, carryin' ropes and poles wi' em. 
 
 " Hold on Charlie," I cried, echoin' t' elder lads, I can hear noo 
 t' sound of my own sma' voice. He nodded bravely back to me, 
 and I sat watchin' t' hair blow over his white face an' seein' hoo his 
 lithe yoong body swayed and trembled over t' dreadful hoight. T" 
 old gools coom swoopin' and screechin' back to nest, and just then 
 a great pity for Charlie sprang oop i' my heart. I didn't know he 
 hung there for loife and death, yet I had a feelin' he war i' trouble 
 too, and wanted to do soommat to help or comfort him. I moinded 
 moother's cake i' my pocket, and in my silly, babby fashion thout 
 that would do him good and give him patience till men could let 
 doon a rope from above. I started oop t' cliff, never thinkin' that 
 even bigger lads couldn't safely pass t' lower ledge, but thinkin' only 
 of Charlie, and, in a mooddled way, that I war fit to be a sailor on 
 a mun-o-war and a six-year-old chap as could climb anywhere. 
 
 Charlie sees me coomin' as he looks down atween his two honds, 
 and shakes his head at me. 
 
 " Hold on, Charlie," I says to him, " I be goin' to give thee my 
 cake." 
 
 " Noa, noa," cries Charlie. I could hear his voice weel noo. 
 
 " Es, es, dear Charlie," says I, " thee shall have it, and its sweet 
 an' reet good, for moother made it." 
 
 " Doantee come, thee'll be killed, Ned." 
 
 " I could climb a mun-o-war," I answered back, just then cuttin' 
 open one o' my hands and feelin' prood o' not cryin' aboot that. 
 
 " Ned," says Charlie, faintly, but wi' soommat wild yet fearful 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 67 
 
 airnest i' his tone, " lattle Ned, doantee try t' ledge, thee'll be killed, 
 an' I proomised moother as no harm " 
 
 I war under t' ledge, an' already had my honds on a projectin' bit. 
 
 " Ned, Ned," cries Charlie, " I proomised moother to bring thee 
 safe whoam." 
 
 Still I tried t' lift oop my honds, an' war just goin' to let my feet 
 swing loose, laughin', too, at thout o' givin' sike a good cake to 
 poor Charlie. 
 
 His white, yoong face war turned doon upo' me ; his lips pressed 
 toight ; his eyes wide-strained and pitiful ; his body shiverin' and 
 sway in'. 
 
 " I proomised moother," he said ; then shut his eyes, unclinched 
 
 his honds fro' t' rock aboove an' Charlie went sheer doon t' 
 
 face o' t' cliff ! 
 
 T' fisher folk saw from aboove what had happened. They picked 
 me oop, a lattle heap at foot o' c^ff, but quite unhurt. Then they 
 laid Charlie's beautiful yoong body straight in t' boat. Frank and 
 Jamie held their faces covered ; t' fishermen trembled as they neared 
 our door and shrunk awa' from moother's eyes. 
 
 I war t' only one as could tell her hoo it happened. " I war 
 takkin' him my cake, moother," said I, " I could ha' coom oop for 
 him for a mun-o-war can climb anywhere, but Charlie cried oot, 
 ' I promised moother,' an' let himself drop." 
 
 I can feel noo t' grasp and clasp moother give me. I can feel 
 her soft hair against my cheek ; her head buried in my neck as she 
 wept oot : " Oh, my poor lattle lad, thee doant know, thee doant 
 know." 
 
 Jamie began wi' : " Charlie died to save " 
 
 "Doantee!" cries moother, wi' a great sob. I could feel t' 
 spasm of pain that wrang her heart; feel hoo it shook her Avhole 
 frame. " Doantee tell him, doant." She never told me, Cod bless 
 her. Growin' older I cam' to understand t' truth and one toime 
 asked moother if twere as I thout. 
 
 She gave me t' same clasp as on that day when Charlie's face lay 
 so white an' so beautiful before us, an' cried out wi' tears : " My 
 poor, lattle lad, thee deadent know." 
 
 It's long ago sin', long ago ; but t' sorrow owt will bide forever. 
 
68 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 OWL IN CHURCH. 
 
 Rosa Vertner Jeffrey. 
 
 FRONTING us all, 
 In a niche in the wall, 
 As if proud of his lofty station, 
 Like a monk in a cowl 
 Sat a little gray owl, 
 
 Looking down on the congregation. 
 
 Hymns and chants as they rose 
 
 Failed to stir his repose, 
 
 A grave mien to the holy place suiting; 
 
 Merely looking surprise 
 
 With his solemn, round eyes, 
 
 He heard them all through without hooting. 
 » 
 His feathers he shook, 
 
 And a questioning look 
 
 On this wise he cast at the people : 
 " You're high church, 'tis true, 
 But I'm higher than you, 
 
 For my screeching I do in the steeple. 
 
 " If by dropping in here 
 Once a week ye appear 
 
 Thus cleansed from all outward pollution, 
 How clean I must be 
 Living always, you see, 
 
 In the top of this pure institution ! " 
 
 He glanced through the pews 
 As if trying to choose 
 
 A few from the many anointed, 
 With charity freed 
 From ritual creed ; 
 
 I thought that he looked disappointed. 
 
 Quoth the wise little owl 
 In his modest gray cowl, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 69 
 
 " What grand dressing ! " and then, slyly winking, 
 " 'T would be more orthodox 
 To put more in the box 
 
 And less in the pews, I am thinking." 
 
 Judging men from aloft, 
 
 As the righteous do oft, f 
 
 And women — oh, owl have compassion ! 
 For the sees of our church 
 Would be left in the lurch 
 
 If its aisles were forsaken by fashion. 
 
 Of our creed justly proud, 
 We respond very loud, ■ 
 
 By holy zeal gravely excited, 
 And yet look innocent, 
 As if " us sinners" meant 
 
 Not ourselves, but some race more benighted. 
 
 Let paid choirs screech, 
 Let the dear clergy preach, 
 
 Don't hoot at them up in the steeple ; . 
 It's too high a perch 
 To tell " tales out of church," 
 
 And might frighten away outside people. 
 
 Beware how you chat 
 To the hawk and the bat ; 
 
 Church gossip returned with due culture 
 Gives much more to boot ; 
 You won't know your own hoot, 
 
 And may find yourself changed to a vulture. 
 
 It is not orthodox 
 To peep into our box 
 
 And take notes underneath your gray cowl 
 Of who gives and who don't, 
 And we hope that you won't, 
 
 Or we'll call you a meddlesome owl. 
 
70 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 THE RED BIRD. 
 
 William H. Hayne. 
 
 The author is the son of Paul Hayne, and this exquisite poem gives promise 
 that he is destined to follow in the steps of his illustrious father. 
 
 I WATCH his wings in thickets dim, 
 For sunset seems to follow him — 
 
 Sunset from some mysterious West, 
 Whose crimson glory girds his breast. 
 
 A winged ruby wrought of flame, 
 
 Whence comes his beauty ? whence his name ? 
 
 Clear as a bright awakening beam 
 Through the vague vista of a dream, 
 
 An answer comes. I seem to feel 
 The flash of armor, glint of steel ; 
 
 The whir of arrows quick and keen, 
 The battle-axe's baleful sheen ; 
 
 The long, relentless spear, whose thrust 
 Makes the mad foeman writhe in dust ; 
 
 The din of conflict and the stress 
 Of war's incarnate angriness. 
 
 A wavering mass — a panic wrought 
 Swift as some stormy burst of thought, 
 
 Then distance hides a vanquished host, 
 And sound becomes a wandering ghost. 
 
 But soon I see. half poised in ail, 
 And stricken by a nameless fear, 
 
 A small, brown-breasted bird, whose eyes 
 Are clouded with a deep surprise, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 71 
 
 The earliest bird with terror rife 
 At a wild waste of human life. 
 
 How soon his dread to wonder turns 
 As downward, where a life-stream burns, 
 
 He darts and dips his quivering wings, 
 While o'er his heart the crimson clings. 
 
 With tender eyes and pitying face 
 He flutters softly o'er the place, 
 
 And when at last his wings are spread 
 A lurid lustre crowns his head, 
 
 And his bright body soars afar, 
 Red as autumnal sunsets are. 
 
 I WONDER WHAT MAUD WILL SAY? 
 
 Samuel Minturn Peck. 
 
 DEAR Harry, I will not dissemble, 
 A candid confession is best ; 
 My fate — but alas, how I tremble ! 
 
 My fate I must put to the test. 
 This morning I gathered in sadness 
 
 A strand from my locks, slightly gray ; 
 To delay any longer were madness 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? 
 
 The deed, it was well to do quickly, 
 
 Macbeth makes a kindred remark ; 
 I wonder if Mac felt as sickly 
 
 When he carved the old king in the dark? 
 The fellows who marry all do it, 
 
 But what is the usual way ? 
 Heigho ! don't I wish I were through it! 
 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Would you give her a pug or a pony, 
 
 A picture or only a book ; 
 A novel — say Bulwer's "Zanoni," 
 
 Or a poem, " Lucille," " Lalla Rookh; M 
 Bonbons from Maillard's, or a necklace 
 
 Of pearls, or a mammoth bouquet? 
 By Jove ! I am perfectly reckless — 
 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? * 
 
 Shall I speak of the palace at Como 
 
 Which captured the heart of Pauline ? 
 There's a likeness of Claude in a chromo ; 
 
 Would you buy it and practice the scene? 
 But no ! I'm no Booth, nor an Irving, 
 
 My fancy has led me astray, 
 To a lover so true and deserving— 
 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? 
 
 Could I warble like Signor Gallassi, 
 
 In passionate song I would soar — 
 I recall she applauded him, as he 
 
 Serenaded the fair Leonore ; 
 My strain would resound love-compelling, 
 
 Far sweeter than Orpheus' lay ; 
 Already my bosom is swelling — 
 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? 
 
 Shall I tell her my love very gravely, 
 
 Or propose in a moment of mirth, 
 Or lead to the subject suavely, 
 
 And mention how much I am worth ? 
 Old fellow, I know I shall blunder 
 
 When she blossoms as bright as the day, 
 My wits will be dazzled ; Oh, thunder ! 
 
 I wonder what Maud will say ? 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 73 
 
 WOMEN OF THE WAR. 
 
 Annie Thomas. 
 
 Written for and read before the National Women's Christian Temperance 
 Union, at the commemoration of Women of the War, May 30, 1887, New York 
 city. 
 
 ALL praise, all honor to the valiant men 
 Who, casting fortune by, and risking life, 
 Left home and loved ones — all that life holds dear, 
 To fight for country or for country die. 
 
 Speak of their valor oft in thankful words, 
 Sing loud and clear their praise, in notes of love ; 
 Cover their graves with bays and flowers to-day. 
 Of them, too much cannot be said or sung. 
 
 And to the living, wounded heroes — all, 
 
 Who gave the best of life — the dearest gift; 
 
 Who, maimed, are destined now through time to go — 
 
 Our country's best and choicest gifts be given. 
 
 Others there are who bore no minor part 
 
 In the dread conflict of our civil strife ; 
 
 Who bravely, with tongue and pen, aye, and with sword, 
 
 Defended right as only woman may. 
 
 Who in the hospital with gentle hand 
 Bound up the bleeding wound — cooled the parched lip ; 
 With aching brow, night after night kept watch, 
 Tenderly nursing the dying back to life. 
 
 Or those, who, patient, toiled alone at home, 
 Bearing the double burden on them thrown ; 
 Struggling, and oft, midst hunger, cold and grief, 
 To rear the little ones that to them clung. 
 
 The noble, patient mothers, sisters, wives, 
 
 Who, with brave hearts and loving, hopeful words, 
 
<; + ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Hiding their sorrow, denying even tears, 
 Cheered on the weary, homesick patriots. 
 
 The dear old grandmother, whose trembling hands 
 Knitted away for them — her soldiers all — 
 Until the poor eyes, dim with age and tears, 
 Grown blinded quite — the stitch no longer found. 
 
 The tender, loving younger ones — sweethearts — 
 For love of whom and praise from whom full oft, 
 The soldier nerved his heart and marched away 
 To combat, suffering, privation, death. 
 
 To these we also render thanks to-day; 
 Of these — brave ernes — our heartfelt songs are sung. 
 The memory of these to-day refreshed with tears ; 
 These, also, wreathe we with immortal flowers. 
 
 GENERAL GRANT'S ENGLISH. 
 
 Mark Twain. 
 
 This speech was delivered at the annual reunion of the Army and Navy Club 
 of Connecticut, on the anniversary of General Grant's birthday, April 27, 1887. 
 It makes an excellent declamation. 
 
 I WILL detain you with only just a few words — just a few 
 thousand words — and then give place to a better man, if he 
 has been created. Lately a great and honored author, Matthew 
 Arnold, has been finding fault with Gen. Grant's English. That 
 would be fair enough, may be, if the examples of imperfect English 
 averaged more instances to the page in Gen. Grant's book than 
 they do in Mr. Arnold's criticism upon the book ; but they don't. 
 It would be fair enough, may be, if such instances were commoner 
 in Gen. Grant's book than they are in the works of the average 
 standard author; but they aren't. In truth, Gen. Grant's derelic- 
 tions in the matter of grammar and construction are not more fre- 
 quent than are such derelictions in the works of a majority 0/ the 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 75 
 
 professional authors of our time and all previous times — authors as 
 exclusively and painstakingly trained to the literary trade as was 
 Gen. Grant to the trade of war. 
 
 This is not a random statement ; it is a fact, and easily demon- 
 strable. I have at home a book called " Modern English Litera- 
 ture, its Blemishes and Defects," by Henry H. Breen, F. S. A., a 
 countryman of Mr. Arnold. In it I find examples of bad grammar 
 and slovenly English from the pens of Sydney Smith, Sheridan, 
 Hallam, Whateley, Carlyle, both Disraelis, Allison, Junius, Blair, 
 Macaulay, Shakespeare, Milton, Gibbon, Southey, Bulwer, Cobbett, 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson, Trench, Lamb, Landor, Smollett, Walpole, 
 Walker (of the dictionary), Christopher North, Kirke White, Mrs. 
 Sigourney, Benjamin Franklin, Walter Scott and Mr. Lindley Mur- 
 ray, who made the grammar. 
 
 In Mr. Arnold's paper on Gen. Grant's book we find a couple of 
 grammatical crimes and more than several examples of very crude 
 and slovenly English — enough of them to easily entitle him to a 
 lofty place in that illustrious list of delinquents just named. Gen. 
 Grant's grammar is as good as anybody's ; but if this were not so, 
 we might brush that inconsequential fact aside and hunt his great 
 book for far higher game. To suppose that because a man is a poet 
 or a historian he must be correct in his grammar, is to suppose that 
 an architect must be a joiner, or a physician a compounder of medi- 
 cines. If you should climb the mighty Matlerhorn to look out over 
 the kingdoms of the earth, it might be a pleasant incident to find 
 strawberries up there ; but, great Scott, you don't climb the Matter- 
 1 horn for strawberries ! 
 
 There is that about the sun which makes us forget his spots; and 
 when we think of Gen. Grant our pulses quicken and his grammar 
 vanishes. We only remember that this is the simple soldier, who, 
 all untaught of the silken phrase-makers, linked words together with 
 an art surpassing the art of the schools, and put into them a some- 
 thing which will still bring to American ears, as long as America 
 shall last, the roll of his vanished drums and the tread of his march- 
 ing hosts. What do we care for grammar when we think of the 
 man that put together that thunderous phrase, " Unconditional and 
 
76 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 immediate surrender ! " And those others : " I propose to move 
 immediately upon your works ! " "I propose to fight it out on this 
 line if it takes all summer ! " Mr. Arnold would, doubtless, claim 
 that that last sentence is not strictly grammatical, and yet, neverthe- 
 less, it did certainly wake up this nation as a hundred million tons 
 of A i, fourth proof, hard-boiled, hide-bound grammar from another 
 mouth couldn't have done. And, finally, we have that gentler 
 phrase, that one which shows you another true side of the man ; 
 shows that in his soldier heart there was room for other than gory 
 war mottoes, and in his tongue the gift to fitly phrase them : " Let 
 us have peace." 
 
 THE FRENCH ENSIGN. (Abridged.) 
 
 Alphonse Daudet. 
 
 This very stirring war poem was written by a very popular French writer. It 
 records the story of a soldier, who, though a common man, was a noble patriot. 
 Twenty years of honorable service were given to his country before he had earned 
 his sergeant's stripes. He was afterward made an ensign, and then a sub-lieuten- 
 ant. On the surrender of Bazaine, when his flag was taken, he tore it from the 
 Prussian officer's hand, and, waving it aloft, tried to rouse the French soldiers to 
 an attempt to break through the enemy's lines. His effort was vain and he died 
 of anger and shame. 
 
 ROUND their flag, on the bank of a railway, the regiment stood, 
 A mark for the Prussian army, massed in the opposite wood, 
 Eighty yards between them. Heavens ! how the bullets flew. 
 "Lie down ! r ' the officer shouted ; but that not a man would do. 
 Iron it rained on that slope ! With crackle and peal and blaze, 
 Piercing the flag that waved aloft in the wind of the mitrailleuse — - 
 The flag that again and again, with its bearer, faltered and fell 
 Back in the smoke and carnage, like a lost soul into hell ; 
 And ever as it fell, a voice from the topmost crag, 
 Dominating the firing, cried : " The flag, my lads, the flag ! " 
 Twenty-two times it fell ! Twenty-two times its haft, 
 Warm from a dying hand, was seized and held aloft ; 
 And when the sun went down, and the regiment slowly began 
 A dogged retreat, still firing, and wounded — ay, every man, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 77 
 
 The ghost of their former glory, the colors were borne away 
 In the hands of Ensign Hornus, the twenty-third of that day. 
 
 Night had drawn her curtain, when the gallant colonel came 
 And taking Hornus' brave right hand he kindly spoke his name, 
 Saying: " You've got the colors, I see; keep them, my brave old lad ! " 
 His comrades scarcely knew him that night, he looked so gay and 
 
 glad, 
 And round his coarse old cap — all frayed with weather wear, 
 The band of a sub-lieutenant was stitched by the vivandiere. 
 
 It had been his one ambition ! And it filled his heart with pride ; 
 And he drew himself proudly up, and walked with a martial stride. 
 And when the bullets sang round him, tearing it rag by rag, 
 High above treachery, death and defeat, he held his darling flag ; 
 All his life, his strength, his soul bowed to his chief's command 
 That his regiment's colors should be kept from the enemy's soiling 
 hand. 
 
 And he stood in the midst of battle with a bold, defiant air, 
 Seeming to say to the Prussian host, " Ay, take them if you dare ! " 
 But no one took them — not even death, and the colors came out 
 From murderous battlefields — from Borny and Gravelotte — 
 Tattered, transparent with wounds, sword-thrust and bullet-drill, 
 But safe in the hands of Hornus ; the veteran held them still. 
 
 Came the autumn. In Metz, foe incircled, the army lay 
 Through that long pause of sick'ning peace, and slow but sure decay ; 
 In the mud the cannon rusted — rusted in its sheath the steel, 
 And the soldiers died by thousands waiting for the clarion peal. 
 
 Alas ! for poor old Hornus ! One day he waked to hear 
 
 The camp in a clamor. Curses and threats were what met his ear. 
 
 And Hornus, rushing out of his tent, was given to know 
 
 That Marshal Bazaine had surrendered — surrendered without a 
 
 blow ! 
 " Down with the coward ! " they yelled, and cursed the Marshal's 
 
 name, 
 While the officers silently listened, hanging their heads for shame. 
 
78 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " And my colors ? " asked Hornus, trembling. Ah ! his colors, 
 
 'twas confessed, 
 Would go, at the Marshal's order, to the Prussians with the rest. 
 Stiffened his face as he heard it — every muscle, every line, 
 " T—Tonnerre de Dieu/" the poor man stuttered, "They shan't 
 
 get mine," 
 
 Away to the town rushed Hornus, muttering as he ran : 
 
 " Take my flag, indeed ! Let them try it — every man ! 
 
 Let the Marshal give the Prussians his carriages and his plate ; 
 
 But my flag is mine — and mine alone ! 'Tis my honor, 'tis my 
 
 fate ! " 
 He hurried along the noisy streets, and through the shouting 
 
 throng, ' 
 A great resolve within him arising clear and strong 
 To secure his regiment's colors, and despite the Marshal's seals, 
 Carve his way through the Prussian lines with his comrades at his 
 
 heels. 
 
 The arsenal gates were open. The Prussian wagons stood 
 In the yard, and behind them waited in sorrowful attitude 
 Old Hornus' brother ensigns; bareheaded they stood in the rain; 
 And seeing them thus the old man's heart was touched with name- 
 less pain. 
 And there in a muddy corner the army colors lay ! 
 With their golden fringes and gay-hued silk all foul with mire and 
 
 clay. 
 An officer lifted them one by one as they called each regiment's 
 
 name. 
 And forward for his acquittance in turn each ensign came. 
 " Hornus, get your receipt. Your turn ! " But Hornus stands. 
 What does he care about a receipt ? He wrings his hands 
 And looks at his flag — the last, the loveliest of them all. 
 And as he looked he seemed again to hear the stirring call : 
 " The flag, my lads, the flag ! " And once again he stood 
 On the bank of the railway, facing the Prussians in the wood 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 79 
 
 With his dauntless comrades — answering the enemy gun for gun, 
 
 Grouped in the awful blood-red glare of the setting sun, 
 
 Seeing his comrades, one by one, springing forward to raise 
 
 That flag, and float it once again in the wind of the mitrailleuse, 
 
 And himself, at the colonel's call, seizing the gilded haft 
 
 Warm from a dying hand, again its folds to waft. 
 
 On the evening after the battle, he had sworn — no maiter how 
 
 It was assailed — to guard that flag till death — till death. And 
 
 now ? 
 
 Frantic, distracted — mad ! He forward leapt, and tore 
 
 The flag from the officer's grasp, and held it aloft once more : 
 
 " The flag, my lads, the flag ! " 
 
 But the flag would not float ! In that atmosphere, heavy and chili 
 
 as death, 
 What glorious thing could live ? What glorious soul find breath ? 
 And the standard slipped from its bearer's hand, lifeless, heavy as 
 
 lead, 
 And Hornus — choked with rage and the shame of the thing — fell 
 
 dead. 
 
 THE STAR OF DEMOCRACY. 
 
 Henry Watterson. 
 
 Speech on the occasion of the nomination of General S. B. Buckner as Governor 
 of Kentucky. 
 
 M 
 
 R. CHAIRMAN AND FELLOW-DEMOCRATS— I take 
 this to be a dress-parade of the boys in the trenches. I am 
 but a drummer myself, but it makes my heart swell with the pride of 
 a sergeant-major to look upon this magnificent array of Kentucky 
 Democrats. It is an unmistakable sign that there is life in the 
 party yet. 
 
 There needs to be. Rarely in the history of the politics of the 
 country has there been greater need of some vitalizing current in 
 Democratic counsels than there now is, and where shall we look to 
 find this vitalizing current if not in Kentucky ? The only distinct 
 
8o EL C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 line of Democratic policy which at this time awakens the enthii" 
 siasm of friends, and excites the denunciation of foes, is everywhere 
 described as " the Kentucky idea." And what is the Kentucky 
 idea ? It is, as far as I am able to interpret it — and if there be 
 anything I do understand, as the old woman said of her " bluin'," 
 it is the Democracy of Kentucky — it is a sturdy clinging to the 
 idea that government belongs to the many, and is not the exclu- 
 sive property of the few, and an obstinate insistance that this idea 
 shall be carried into every administrative and legislative affair, and 
 applied alike to the self-anointed and the great unwashed. 
 
 Fellow- Democrats, we have stumbled upon times which, if they 
 do not try men's souls, are enough to sicken dogs. Turn which- 
 ever way you will, it shall go lucky with you if you do not stick youi 
 nose into a bottle of patent medicine prescribed for the regenera- 
 tion of mankind. The air is full of nostrums. There is the Pro- 
 tectionist's Wonderful Iron Tonic for making men rich by taxation. 
 There is the Mugwump's Civil Service Elixir for purifying the sys- 
 tem and perpetuating liberty by the erection of an aristocracy of 
 office upon the ruins of representative government. There is 
 Fraud's Own Pauper Patriotic Liniment, which proposes to exter- 
 minate vagabondage by making every tramp a pensioner, and 
 which we should have actually had administered to us but for 
 the fly which Grover Cleveland dropped into the first box of 
 the ointment submitted to his inspection. There is that delicious 
 sugar-coated double compound Educational Capsule, which is to 
 be given to every little African in the land before he goes 
 to bed, and when he gets up in the morning he shall come forth 
 a scholar and a gentleman. And then there is Fox's Universal 
 Renovator and Social, Moral and Political Cure-all, the Tee- 
 total Prohibition Porous Plaster, which will stick to you like a 
 brother, and which is expected to convert every drinking-saloon 
 into a temple of worship, and to repeople the world with a new race 
 of angels. 
 
 I am against each and all of these quack remedies, and against 
 the man who is in favor of any one of them, and more particularly 
 against him if he claims to be a Democrat. They strike at the root 
 
EL OCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 8 1 
 
 of our constitutional system, which was conceived in the right of 
 man to govern himself, and brought forth to meet the evil that 
 mankind is governed too much. It would amaze the fathers of 
 this republic to look in upon us to-day and to behold the elaborate 
 architecture and the costly and variegated furniture with which the 
 vanity and avarice of men and the ingenuity of devils have con- 
 trived to overlay and decorate the simple republican structure they 
 hewed out of the primal forests of nature and built upon the rocks 
 of liberty. 
 
 If it be not the mission of the Democratic party to preserve in the 
 new something of the spirit of the old, to combine tradition 
 with movement, and to lighten the highways of progress with 
 brands snatched from the fire kindled by those who launched the 
 ark of the Union and made the covenant of States, then there is 
 no future for us, but a repetition of histories, which had better 
 never been. I have followed the morning star of Democracy 
 from the noonday of secession through the darkest hours of the 
 midnight of reconstruction, and with the dawn of peace and reason 
 have seen it shine over a reunited people as bright and clear as the 
 star of Bethlehem, which presaged the coming of Christ ; and as 
 truly as I believe that God reigns and orders all things for good, so 
 I believe that this morning star of Democracy, which has returned 
 to its meridian and shines once more above the White House at 
 Washington, presages the final triumph of freedom and the reign 
 forever and aye of the people's simple majesty. It is because I 
 believe this that I am unwilling to yield one inch of the people's 
 ground to the encroachments of innovation, and hold these innova- 
 tions more dangerous when they come clad in the raiment and fly- 
 ing the flag of a spurious Democracy. I had rather meet fifty enemies 
 on the open plain in honest fight than one single enemy disguised 
 as a friend. 
 
 Let me urge upon this convention, then, the reassertion of each 
 of the old time-honored doctrines that has any bearing upon the 
 present state of public affairs ; the needful limitations of the Federal 
 power; the unimpaired rights of the States; the money of the con- 
 stitution, expressed in gold and silver and paper, convertible into 
 
82 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 coin upon demand ; the free education of the people at home ; no 
 sumptuary laws ; no political secret societies; no more revenue than 
 the government, economically administered, can spend, and a tariff 
 laid upon the luxuries of life exclusively for public purposes. These, 
 fellow-Democrats, are cardinal and axiomatic Democratic truths, 
 and no Democrat can miss his way as long as he sticks to them with 
 all his heart. Return to the trenches, I entreat you, and having laid 
 aside your store clothes and put on your homespun, go to work to 
 substantiate them as embodied by the good men and true selected 
 by you to bear them on to victory. 
 
 This speech is bristling with points and makes an excellent decla- 
 mation. An analysis is made of that portion in which political nos- 
 trums are named, and the star of Democracy is described. The 
 teacher will do well to require pupils to give a full analysis. By 
 assuming thatthefollowingquestionsare asked and answers given, the 
 full meaning and correct rendering will be brought out : 
 
 What does the Protectionist's Tonic propose to do? "To make 
 men rich by taxation." 
 
 What is the use of the Mugwump's Civil Service Elixir? "To 
 purify the body politic." 
 
 What else ? " For perpetuating liberty." 
 
 How ? " By the erection of an aristocracy of office." 
 
 Upon what ? " The ruins of representative government." 
 
 What does the Fraud's Own Pauper Patriotic Liniment propose 
 to do ? " Exterminate vagabondage." 
 
 How ? " By making every tramp a pensioner." 
 
 Why are we not using this nostrum now ? " Because Grover 
 Cleveland dropped a fly into the first box that was presented for 
 his inspection." 
 
 What is die Educational Capsule ? -"A delicious sugar-coated 
 double compound." 
 
 To whom is it to be given? "To eveiy little African in the 
 land." 
 
 When ? " Before he goes to bed." 
 
 What is the result ? " He comes forth as a scholar and a 
 gentleman." 
 
 When ? " When he gets up in the morning." 
 
 How is the Teetotal Prohibition Porous Plaster described ? "As 
 Fox's Universal Renovator and Social, Moral and Political Cure- 
 all" 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 83 
 
 What is its effect ? "It will stick to you like a brother." 
 
 What is it expected to do ? " To convert every drinking-saloon 
 into a temple of worship." 
 
 What else ? " To re-people the world with a new race of angels." 
 
 How long does Mr. Watterson say he has followed the star of 
 Democracy ? " Since the noonday of secession and the darkest 
 hours of the midnight of reconstruction." 
 
 When did it shine over a reunited people ? " With the dawn of 
 peace and reason." „ 
 
 What was its appearance ? "As bright and clear as the star of 
 Bethlehem." 
 
 Where is this morning star of Democracy ? " Over the White 
 House at Washington." 
 
 What does it presage ? " The final triumph of freedom." 
 
 What more ? " The reign of the people's simple majesty." 
 
 For what length of time ? " Forever and aye." 
 
 MR. BOWSER AMONG THE DRESSMAKERS. 
 
 A THRILLING RECITAL BY HIS WIFE. 
 
 WHAT Mr. Bowser didn't know about dressmaking up to a week 
 ago wasn't worth knowing. What he doesn't know now 
 would fill a large-sized book. I was fretting about the delay on the 
 part of my dressmaker when he suddenly turned on me with : 
 
 " Mrs. Bowser,. it's all confounded nonsense! When I order a suit 
 of clothes they are ready for me at the date set, and if there is any 
 reason why a dressmaker can't do business on business principles, 
 I want to know it." 
 
 " But I can't help it," I protested. 
 
 " No, you can't ! You women are fools to be imposed upon as 
 you are ! Fd like to see one of these dressmakers bamboozle me 
 around the way they do you ! " 
 
 " But you don't wear dresses." 
 
 " For which I thank Heaven ! There is more nonsense about 
 selecting a dress and having it made up than is seen in an idiot 
 asylum in a year. I tell you, it's all bosh ! " 
 
 " You might select my dress goods for me." 
 
8 4 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Oh ! I might ! Well, hang me if I don't ! Yes, I'll go down 
 this very afternoon and buy you a new dress, and I'll follow the 
 cloth until you have it on your back ! I'll show you, Mrs. Bowser? 
 that business is business ! " 
 
 He began operations after dinner. Mr. Bowser has an alarm 
 clock which goes off to the minute. He therefore argues that 
 everybody else ought to go off with the same promptness and dis- 
 patch. He jumped off the car and rushed into a dry-goods store 
 and said : 
 
 " Give me twelve yards of stuff for a dress — quick ! " 
 
 " Calico or silk ? " queried the clerk. 
 
 " Why, silk, of course. You may give me two shades — six yards 
 in a shade. I'll take green and blue." 
 
 " But no one can get a dress out of twelve yards of silk, and as 
 for the colors " 
 
 " They can't, eh ! " howled Bowser, " my mother never had over 
 ten yards for a dress, and twelve has got to make one for my wife. 
 The colors are all right." 
 
 The clerk gave him what he asked for, and Bowser rushed home 
 and flung the package into my lap with: 
 
 " Been gone just thirty-seven minutes by the watch, while you 
 would have been fooling around three afternoons. There's twelve 
 full yards, and if you have any pieces left you can line my overcoat 
 sleeves." 
 
 " Twelve yards ! Why, I never get less than twenty-three ! Don't 
 you see how narrow silk is ? " 
 
 " Urn ! I thought it was sheeting width, of course. That's another 
 fraud I'm going to look to." 
 
 "And the shades — I can't wear 'em — no one could." 
 
 " You can't ! Well, you will, all the same ! This talk about 
 matching the complexion with dress goods is the twaddle of idiots ! 
 If green and blue won't hit you, then let her miss ! It's my taste, 
 and I think I know what belongs to harmony. We'll go down after 
 supper and get some dressmaker to begin work." 
 
 " But I know what she'll say." 
 
 " Oh ! you do ! Well, you leave that to me; I'm bossing this job, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 85 
 
 Mrs. Bowser, and I'll teach you a thing or two before we get 
 ihrough ! " 
 
 After supper we drove down town to a dressmaker's. As we got 
 3ut of the carriage Bowser charged me to keep my mouth shut and 
 let him do the talking, and 1 cheerfully promised obedience. He 
 carried the bundle under his arm, and as we entered the shop he 
 asked : 
 
 " Will you take a contract to build Mrs. Bowser a dress and have 
 it finished at a certain date ? " 
 
 " Let me see the goods," she replied ; but no sooner had she 
 Dpened the package than she asked : 
 
 " Is it some fancy skirt for the circus ring ? " 
 
 " Circus ring ! " he whooped, " what is there about these goods 
 to remind you of a circus ring ? " 
 
 " The colors." 
 
 "Mrs. Bowser," he said as he turned to me, "we will go else- 
 where. It is evident that this person has come out of some door 
 [knob factory to take up dressmaking." 
 
 At the second place the dressmaker smiled as she saw the colors, 
 and replied that she wouldn't think of beginning work without 
 twenty-four yards of silk at hand. 
 
 " Then you'll never begin ! " exclaimed Bowser. " It's high time 
 the long-suffering public kicked against this dressmaking robbery. 
 When I buy twelve yards of silk for a dressmaker to steal, you can 
 expect I'm going to die the next week." 
 
 The third dressmaker seemed to understand the situation at a 
 glance. She opened the silk, rolled it up again, and calmly but 
 firmly said : 
 
 " I'm very busy just now. You'd better take it to some black- 
 smith shop ! " 
 
 Then we went home for the night. Bowser was mad and wouldn't 
 speak to me, and as he slept he dreamed of dressmakers, and I over- 
 heard him saying : 
 
 " Colors ! I tell you its all bosh ! How many horses and cows 
 do we see of four or five colors ! " 
 
 The next day we visited twelve other dressmakers. Two of them 
 
86 ELOCUTIONAL Y STUDIES. 
 
 called Mr. Bowser an old fool, and four others laughed in his face, 
 while the other six refused to have anything to do with the dress. 
 When we left the last place he said : 
 
 " Mrs. Bowser, I m a man who can't be bulldozed. Those dress- 
 makers have formed a ring to steal cloth and keep up prices. I'll 
 beat 'em at their own game. We'll wait until we go to New York 
 and then buy a ready-made dress." 
 
 When we got home he called the cook into the sitting-room and 
 gave her the silk, and she thanked him kindly and added : 
 
 " It comes in very handy, Mr. Bowser, for my sister is a tight-rope 
 performer and wants a new costume." 
 
 I couldn't help laughing, and Mr. Bowser hasn't spoken to me 
 since. 
 
 WINNIFRED, WALTER, AND THE W'S. 
 
 The following is excellent not only for practice on the W's, but much variety 
 of tone, time, force and pitch may be thrown into it. It makes a good encore 
 selection, as many people are pleased to hear what seems to have been a great 
 effort of memory to acquire. It is a good exercise for pupils to compose and 
 afterward read similar compositions. 
 
 | Cheerily. \ 
 
 \\1 ARM weather, Walter ! Welcome warm weather ! We were 
 V V wishing winter would wane, weren't we ? " 
 
 [Languidly.] 
 
 " We were well wearied with waiting," whispered Walter wearily. 
 Wan, white, woebegone was Walter — wayward, willful, worn with 
 weakness, wasted, waxing weaker whenever winter's wild, withering 
 winds were wailing. 
 
 [Descriptively.] 
 
 Wholly without waywardness was Winifred, Walter's wise, womanly 
 watcher, who, with winsome, wooing ways, was well-beloved. 
 
 \Coaxingly.\ 
 
 " We won't wait, Walter ; while weather'? warm we'll wander 
 where wood-lands wave ; won't we ? " 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 87 
 
 [Descriptively . ] 
 
 Walter's wonted wretchedness wholly waned. 
 
 [Joyously.] 
 
 "Why, Winnie, we'll walk where we went with Willie; we'll 
 weave wild-flower wreaths, watch workmen working, worms wrig- 
 gling, wind-mills whirling, water-mills wheeling; we will win wild 
 whortleberries, witness wheat winnowed." 
 
 [Descriptively.'] 
 
 Wisbeach Woods were white with wild-flowers; warm westerly 
 winds whispered where willows were waving; wood-pigeons, wrens, 
 wood-peckers were warbling. Where Wisbeach water mill's waters, 
 which were wholly waveless, widened were water-lilies waxen white. 
 Winifred wove wreaths with woodbine, white-thorn, wall-flowers, 
 while Walter whittled wooden wedges with willow wands. 
 
 [Quickly.] 
 
 Wholly without warning, wild, wet winds woke within Wisbeach 
 Woods, whistling where Winifred wandered with Walter ; weeping 
 [pathetic ally] willows were wailing, [heavily and rapidly] waging 
 war with wind-tossed waters. 
 
 [Hurriedly.] 
 
 " Walter, we won't wait." 
 
 " Which way, Winnie ? " 
 
 [Hesitatingly . ] 
 
 Winifred wavered. 
 
 [Quickly.] 
 
 Without waiting, Willie was within Winston's wood-work walls. 
 
 [Rapturously^] 
 
 " Welcome, welcome, Willie ! " 
 
 [ Wearily.] 
 
 Winnie was weeping with weariness, with watching Walter, with 
 wayfaring. 
 
 f Encouragingly ■.] 
 
 " Why, Winnie ! Avise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie ! " Willie 
 whispered wheediingly, " we won't weep ; Walter's well. What 
 were Walter without Winnie ? " 
 
88 EL OCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 [Admiringly.] 
 
 Wholly wonderful was Winifred's womanly wisdom, which well 
 warranted weakly Walter's welfare. [Descriptively.] Whenever 
 wandering within Wisbeach Woods with Winnie, Walter would 
 whisper, [praisingly], "What were Walter without Winnie — watch- 
 ful, wise, warm-hearte d Winnie ? " 
 
 THE CHANT OF THE CROSS-BEARING 
 CHILD. 
 
 James Whitcomb Riley. 
 
 ( A good exercise in negro dialect. ) 
 
 I BEAR dis cross dis many a mile, 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chde ! 
 
 I bear dis cross 'long many a road 
 Wha' de pink ain't bloomed an' de grass ain't growed 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! 
 
 Hit's on my conscience all dese days 
 Fo' ter bear de cross ut de good Lord lays 
 On my po' soul, an' ter lif ' my praise. 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! 
 
 I's nigh-'bout weak ez I mos' kin be, 
 Yit de Mastah call, an' He say, " You's free 
 Fo' ter 'cept dis cross an' ter cringe yo' knee 
 To no n'er man in de worl' but me ! " 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! 
 
 Says you guess wrong ef I let you guess- 
 Says you 'spect more an'-a you git less — 
 Says you go eas', says you go wes', 
 
EL C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 An' whense you fin' de road ut you like bes' 
 You betteh tak chice er any er de res' ! 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! 
 
 He build my feet an' he fix de signs 
 Dat de shoe hit pinch an' de shoe hit bines 
 Ef I wear eights an-a wanter wear nines ; 
 An' I hope fo' de rain an' de sun it shines, 
 An' whilse I hunt de sun hit's de rain I fines— 
 
 a trim my lamp an'-a gyrd my lines ! 
 
 O de cross bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! 
 
 1 wade de wet an' I walk de dry ; 
 
 I done tromp long an' I done clim' high ; 
 An' I pilgrim on ter de golding sky, 
 A' I taken der resk fo' ter cas' my eye 
 Wha' de gate swing wide an' de Lord draw nigh, 
 An' de trump hit blow an' I hear de cry — 
 " You lay dat cross down by-an'-by ! 
 O de cross-bearin' chile — 
 
 De cross-bearin' chile ! " 
 
 LITTLE BO-PEEP AND LITTLE BOY BLUE 
 
 Samuel Minturn Peck 
 
 (Recitation for a little child.) 
 
 IT happened one morning that little Bo-Peep, 
 While watching her frolicsome, mischievous sheep 
 Out in the meadow, fell fast asleep. 
 
 But her wind-blown tresses and rose-leaf pout, 
 
 And her dimpling smile, you'd have guessed, no doubt, 
 
 'Twas love, love, love, she was dreaming about, 
 
9 o ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 As she lay there asleep came little Boy Blue, 
 Right over the stile where the daisies grew ; 
 Entranced by the picture he stopped in the dew. 
 
 So wildly bewitching that beautiful morn 
 Was Little Bo-Peep, that he dropped his horn 
 And thought no more of the cows in the corn. 
 
 Our sorrows are many, our pleasures are few ; 
 Oh, moment propitious ! What could a man do ? 
 He kissed that wee lassie, that little Boy Blue ! 
 
 At the smack the woolies stood all in a row, 
 
 And whispered each other : " We're clearly de trop. 
 
 Such conduct is perfectly shocking — let's go I" 
 
 MENTAL ARITHMETIC. 
 
 TEACHER. [In a very encouraging tone.~\ If there were three 
 peaches on the table, Johnny, and your little sister should 
 eat one of them, how many would be left ? 
 
 Johnny. — [Thin, high voice.'] How many little sisters would be 
 left? 
 
 T. — [A little reproachfully.'] Do listen, Johnny! [slowly and in 
 a very precise way.] If there were three peaches on the table, and 
 your little sister should eat one, how many would be left ? 
 
 J. — We haven't had a peach in the house this year, let alone three. 
 
 T. — We are only supposing the peaches to be on the table, 
 Johnny. 
 
 J. — [With innocent tone.] Then they wouldn't be real peaches? 
 
 T.— No. 
 
 J. — Would they be preserved peaches ? 
 
 T. — Certainly not. 
 
 J. — Pickled peaches? 
 
LLOCUTIONAR V STUDIES. 9 1 
 
 T. — [Getting quite exasperated.] No, no! there wouldn't beany 
 peaches at all. I told you, Johnny, we only suppose the three 
 peaches to be there. 
 
 J. — [As if he understands and fully agrees with the teacher.'] Then 
 there wouldn't be any peaches, of course. 
 
 T. — Now, Johnny, put that knife into your pocket, or I will take it 
 away, and pay attention to what I am saying. We imagine three 
 peaches to be on the table. 
 
 J.— Yes. 
 
 T. — And your little. sister eats one of them, and then goes away. 
 
 J. — Yes, but she wouldn't go away ; you don't know my little 
 sister. 
 
 T. — But suppose your mother was there and wouldn't let her eat 
 but one ? 
 
 J. — Mother's out of town and won't be back till next week. 
 
 T. — [Sternly.] Now, Johnny, I will put the question once more, 
 and if you do not answer it correctly I shall keep you after school. 
 If three peaches were on the table and your little sister were to eat 
 one of them, how many would be left? 
 
 J. — There wouldn't be any peaches left ; [laughing] I'd grab the 
 other two. 
 
 T. — The scholars are now dismissed ; Johnny White will remain 
 where he is. 
 
 TWO VALENTINES. 
 
 May Riley Smith. 
 
 The one poem, "Tired Mothers," written by this author, would have made her 
 famous, had she never dipped her pen in ink again. Many a mother, on both 
 sides of the Atlantic, who has seen the grass growing over a little grave, has 
 said: 
 
 " If I could mend a broken cart to-day, 
 
 To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky, 
 There's no woman in God's world could say 
 
 She was more blissfully content than I. 
 But, ah ! the dainty pillow next my own 
 
 Is never rumpled by a shining head, 
 My singing birdling from its nest is flown — 
 
 The little boy I used to kiss is dead." 
 
92 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 If anything would tempt us into publishing an old selection in this boolj 
 it is "fired Mothers," but we will stop with the stanza quoted above. MaM 
 Riley Smith is a dainty singing-bird of the hoine-nest, and her verses are alway I 
 exquisite. We could fill the book with them. The "Two Valentines" i 
 quaint and touching. The happiness. of Meg, the mirth of Maude, the compleU 
 reconstruction of Tom, are made clear ; and the reader is in close sympathy wit] 
 them all from first to last. 
 
 ONE was the loveliest thing ! a pink sachet, 
 Trimmed with soft ribbons and point applique, 
 While heliotropes upon a rosy field 
 The daintiest of perfumes seemed to yield. 
 
 Give final stress on "loveliest," radical on "pink sachet (pro- 
 nounced sash-a), .ribbons and point applique " (pronounced ap-pli- 
 kay). Emphasize " heliotropes ; " quicken time upon the preposi- 
 tional phrase " upon a rosy field"; make rising slide of a fifth on 
 " daintiest," and emphasize " perfumes." 
 
 Tom thought it just the thing ; and then he knew 
 The nicest girl in town would think so, too ; 
 And, best of all, within the folds there lay 
 A valentine whose verses read this way : 
 
 Give rising slide of a fifth on "just the," and falling on " thing;" 
 radical stress on " the nicest girl in town would think ; " falling 
 wave on " so ; " rising on " too ; " rising slide on " best of; " falling 
 on " all," and emphasize strongly the word of value, which is 
 " valentine." 
 
 " What is daintier, can you tell, 
 
 Than lichen groves, where the fairies dwell ? 
 
 " What is a still more delicate thing 
 Than the silken stuff of a butterfly's wing? 
 
 " What has a lining, do you think, 
 
 As fair as the mushroom's fluted pink ? 
 
 "Are you so dull ? Why, the purest thing 
 Is the heart of the girl whose praises I sing." 
 
 
ELOCUTIONAR V STUDIES. 93 
 
 Give continuous rising slide on " What is dain-," falling on 
 "-tier," compound stress on "you, tell, lichen, groves, fairies, 
 dwell " (Webster gives preference for the pronunciation li-ken, 
 but allows lich-en. Smart gives li-ken, when used as a medical 
 word, and lich-en as a botanical term. Custom shows more use of 
 the first pronunciation than the last) ; emphasize " more," falling 
 slide on " delicate," compound stress ending with rising inflection 
 on " thing," emphasis of a fifth on " butterfly's," compound stress on 
 '" wing," falling wave on " lining," continuous rising slide on " As 
 fair as the mush-," falling on " -room's," compound rising slide of an 
 octave on " dull," continuous rising slide on " the heart of the," 
 falling on " girl," pause after " girl." 
 
 This he addressed to Miss Maude Alice Browne. 
 Another — how I blush to write it down — 
 He sent in spite to poor lame Meg McCray, 
 Who won the prize in algebra that day. 
 
 Emphasize " Maude Alice Browne, Meg McCray (and) algebra," 
 as they are the words of value in this stanza. 
 
 " There is a young person I know, 
 Whose shoes are all out at the toe ; 
 
 She has very large feet, 
 
 Her gown is not neat, 
 And her petticoats hang down below. 
 
 " I may ride a broom to the sky, 
 A snow-storm may fall in July, 
 
 And my slovenly friend, 
 
 Her habits may mend f 
 But do you believe it ? Not I." 
 
 Read the first five lines rather rapidly, emphasize the italicized 
 words, continuous rising slide on direct question " Do you believe 
 it," with compound stress on " believe ; " a decided shake of the 
 head will accompany " Not I." 
 
 But can you tell how it came about 
 
 That Miss Maude Alice Browne, with laugh and shout, 
 
94 • ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Received Meg's valentine ? And, strange to tell, 
 Miss Meg McCray received Miss Browne's, as well. 
 
 Compound stress on "tell, came, about, Browne, Meg's, valen- 
 tine." Last line must be read so as to show a keen sense of the humor, 
 with contrasted words " McCray " and " Browne's" receiving con- 
 trasting inflections. 
 
 " O, Tom ! " Meg cried with innocent, round eyes, 
 " I've had the dearest kind* of a surprise! 
 Now, who could love a poor, plain girl like me 
 Enough to send this valentine — just see ! 
 
 When saying " O, Tom," the gesture, right hand prone, horizontal 
 oblique, is made as if to call the attention of the young man; "dear- 
 est" is given with hands clasped joyfully ; " enough to send this — " 
 both hands vertical, raised in surprise and a graceful movement out- 
 ward is given, with both hands supine and horizontal front on 
 " valentine." A gesture as if extending the paper on "just see." 
 The voice expresses glee as the first words are uttered. Intense 
 pleasure on " dearest;" and there is a little dash of tearful joy as she 
 slowly and a bit tremulously says " a poor, plain girl like me," cul- 
 minating in a tone entirely pleasurable on " valentine." " Just see" 
 is said with a little victorious flourish of voice. 
 
 " If I were rich like Miss Maude Alice Browne, 
 And pretty, too — why Tom, what makes you frown ? 
 It could not be so sweet to me, you know, 
 To feel that some kind person loved me so. 
 
 A look of surprise comes»into her face on " why Tom, what makes 
 you frown ?" 
 
 " But now, whenever things seem hard to bear, 
 I think it will be easier not to care, 
 Because I shall remember, don't you see ? 
 That some one sent this valentine to me." 
 
 The pleasure and confidence shown in the delivery of these lines 
 bring Tom to time. He forgives the lame girl for winning the 
 prize ; he almost applauds himself for sending the verses, and is 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 95 
 
 finally in full sympathy with the happy Meg. All this is told in the 
 following stanza : 
 
 Tom looked perplexed. What could the fellow do 
 But say, " Well, Meg, I'm just as glad as you ! " 
 And so he was ; the jealous fiend had flown, 
 And in hid eyes a true repentance shown. 
 
 And Miss Maude Alice Browne ? She laughed with glee, 
 . " Who could have sent this horrid thing to me ? 
 Well, it's a joke, and here's the best of it, 
 It doesn't hurt because it doesn't hit." 
 
 On the second line there should be a hearty laughter running 
 through. The words of value are " joke, best, hurt, hit." 
 
 That night Tom's sister touched him on the knee, 
 " I say, dear Tom," she said mischievously, 
 " I wonder :f the Lord will credit you 
 With what you did, or what you meant to do ? " 
 
 There will be a playful gesture of the head as well as hand on the 
 italicized words "did" and "meant.'" 
 
 MIRANDY. 
 
 Eva Wilder McGlasson. 
 
 (Yankee dialect.) 
 
 WHEN she looks sad, somehow I jes' 
 Fly 'roun' an' do my level bes' 
 Ter cheer her up a leetle mite, 
 An' make them eyes o' hern git bright. 
 
 An' ef she lies a sort o' frown, 
 I grow plumb scart from eyelids down; 
 But when she smiles, I kinder feel 
 Rale spankin' good from head to heel. 
 
96 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 An' yet, she's jes' a brown-eyed slip 
 O' crittur, with a onder lip 
 Thet 'pears ez ef a bumble-bee 
 Hed stung it acciden'ally. 
 
 An' yeller hair thet curls up tight 
 Aroun' a neck thet's spang snow white ; 
 An' sech a voice ! — I'm free ter say 
 The angels 'bout talk that-a-way. 
 
 Why, when she sings, I tell you all, 
 A trem'lin' rap'ure 'pears ter crawl 
 Cl'ar up the middle o' my back, 
 Jes' like the agur, fer a fac' ! 
 
 O' course I know I'm nigh a mos' 
 A fool about'n her — but 'spose 
 You hed six sons, like me'n Maw, 
 An' jes' one gal ter call you " Paw ? " 
 
 THE HEN-HUSSY. 
 
 (Good for an encore.) 
 
 TV TY husband cost me a good girl last week by one of his 
 
 1V1 whirns." said Mrs. Bowser. " I happened to wonder aloud 
 during the evening if Bridget had put her bread to rise, when he 
 promptly inquired : 
 
 " ' Mrs. Bowser, do you know why bread rises ?' 
 
 " : Because of the yeast.' 
 
 " ' But why does the yeast expand the dough ?' 
 
 " ' Because it does.' 
 
 " ' Exactly. You also live because you do, and that's all you 
 know about it ! You ought to be ashamed of your ignorance of 
 natural philosophy. I'll see if the girl knows any better,' 
 
 " He went out and inquired : 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 97 
 
 " ' Bridget, have you put the bread to rise ?' 
 
 " ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 " ' Do you expect it to rise ?' 
 
 " « Of course.' 
 
 " ' Why don't you expect it to fall ?' 
 
 " ' Are you running this kitchen ?' she sharply demanded. 
 
 " ' Virtually, yes. My object is to see how well you are posted 
 on natural philosophy. Why does the bread rise instead of fall ?' 
 
 " ' Because it's a fool, and I'm another fo: staying in a place 
 where a man is allowed to hen-hussy about the kitchen ! I'll leave 
 in the morning.' 
 
 " And leave she did, and all the consolation I got from Mr. 
 Bowser, as he came up to dinner, was : ' It's a good thing she left. 
 She might have mixed something together which would have caused 
 our deaths. Come, now, hurry up the dinner.'" 
 
 THE SPRING POET 
 
 Hal Berte. 
 
 There is an opportunity for excellent action on this little thing. It has been 
 found particularly good as an encore. 
 
 T'LL sing," said the poet, "a song on Spring — " 
 
 1 The editor murmured, " Hush ! 
 On a newer theme let fancy wing 
 
 And leave this Springtide gush 
 To the thousand, thousand busy pens 
 
 That write on this one thing. 
 Eschew, if you have a grain of sense, 
 
 This hackneyed subject, Spring." 
 
 " I'll sing," said the poet, " a song on Spring — " 
 
 The editor shook his head ; 
 " If you do," said he, " I'll get a gun 
 
 And bore you through with lead, 
 
98 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 For three-score poems have come to-day 
 
 To me on postal wing, 
 And out of these, I grieve to say, 
 
 Three-fourths are labeled ' Spring.' " 
 
 " I'll sing," said the poet, " a song on Spring— 1 "' 
 
 The editor then uprose 
 And he smote that bard with fists full hard 
 
 In swift-descending blows. 
 " Hold ! hold !" the frightened poet cried, 
 
 " Forego this cruel lickin'! 
 I meant not verses on Springtide, 
 
 But verses on Spring — chicken." 
 
 THE FATE OF MACKAY. 
 
 Noah Little. 
 
 THERE lived a young man called Mackay, 
 Near by, 
 Who trembled and felt very shy. 
 
 My eye ! 
 If a girl would smile, he would run for a mile, 
 So bashful a man was Mackay. 
 
 Hooch ay! 
 So bashful a man was Mackay. 
 
 " Now," said he, " this never will do. 
 
 That's true. 
 My chances for courtships fall through — 
 
 They do, 
 Why, they'd jump at the chance if I made an advance, 
 And snap at a man like Mackay. 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 They'd snap at a man like Mackay. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 99 
 
 " The first time I meet with sweet Kate, 
 
 Though blate, 
 I'm determined to find out my fate, 
 
 Ere late. 
 I'll fall down on my knees, give her hand the least squeeze, 
 And say, ' become Mrs. Mackay.' 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 I'll say, ' Become Mrs. Mackay.' " 
 
 But when the proud lass said " No, 
 
 Now go ! " 
 That was indeed a sad blow, 
 
 You know. I 
 
 It did not break his heart ; it might well give a start, 
 To refuse a man like Mackay. 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 To refuse a man like Mackay. 
 
 But, " There's plenty more fish in the sea," 
 
 Said he ; 
 " And there's lots of nice girls would have me, 
 
 If free." 
 So he just tried some more, till he asked at least four 
 To comfort the heart of Mackay 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 To comfort the heart of Mackay. 
 
 But when he at last got a wife — 
 
 From Fife ; 
 His troubles soon began to be rife, 
 
 In life. 
 He'd to clean up the floor, wash the bairns, mind the door, 
 Which wasn't the real Mackay. 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 That wasn't the real Mackay. 
 
roo- ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 'Twas no wonder Mackay pined away, 
 
 Each day; 
 His teeth fell out, his hair turned gray, 
 
 They say. 
 Now, when dead, he can't rest, but his spirit distress'd, 
 Wanders crying, " Remember Mackay ! " 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 Wanders crying, " Remember Mackay ! " 
 
 Now the moral which I would employ, 
 
 My boy, 
 If your happiness you would destroy, 
 
 Like Troy, 
 Is marry in haste, and you'll repent it at least 
 As quickly as did poor Mackay. 
 
 Hooch ay ! 
 As quickly as did poor Mackay. 
 
 THE JEFFUL. 
 
 John Habberton. 
 
 Nobody can write better baby-patois than Mr. Habberton. This is proved in 
 " Helen's Babies," which has been read by everybody in this country and trans- 
 lated into many languages. It is in part a true story. Budge and Toddy were 
 real children, only their mother's name was Alice and not Helen. 
 
 "Just One Day " is the story of a mother's life for the time stated, but it covers 
 174 pages of the book. " The Jefful " is the baby's pet name for " the dreadful." 
 The mother gets the child to sleep and then attempts to rip up a dress which she 
 wishes to repair. The baby wakes too soon and runs through the whole gamut 
 of its temper. When one can give imitations of the baby scale of expression, the 
 recitation becomes very effective. The sound of ripping' cloth must also be intro- 
 duced. It is impossible to describe upon paper the method of producing these 
 imitations, but the publisher of this book will recommend, upon application, 
 teachers who are fully competent to give oral instruction upon the subject. 
 
 SHE began ripping the binding from the bottom of the skirt, and 
 was getting along nicely, when she heard in the adjoining 
 room a very sweet voice remarking [cooing good-naturedly\, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES.^ 101 
 
 " Obboo gobboo yabbee yabbee ah hoo um boo baa. Iddy, iddy, 
 iddy, iddy." 
 
 There was no Greek or other unknown tongue to mamma about 
 this ; it was. perfectly intelligible, and it meant that The Jefful was 
 beginning to get ready to begin to want to get up. 
 
 Then there was a spirited race between mamma and The Jefful, 
 the former endeavoring to get all the braid ripped off before the 
 latter should reach that point where she might legitimately insist 
 upon arising. Rip, rip, rip went the blade of mamma's little knife 
 upon the stitches. 
 
 [A little more spirit on the part of the baby'] " Bibble, bubble-ob- 
 ;ob-ob-ob-ob," said The Jefful, and again the little knife said. " Rip, 
 trip, rip." 
 
 [ With coaxing tone, as if playing with one of its pink feet.] "Attee 
 ipattee okky pokkey poo," remarked The Jefful, and the knife said : 
 " Rip, rip, rip-rip-rip." 
 
 Then The Jefful stuffed one of her big toes in her mouth, and took 
 
 a rest for about two minutes, and the knife had gained nearly a yard 
 
 before its antagonist resumed with: \Be ginning sweetly but ending 
 
 i in a decided squall,] "Appee-chip-ah-wa-wa-wa." " Rip, rip— r-r-r- 
 
 i%-r-r-ip." [Breaking out much louder] " Booga. Ommul lummy 
 
 ummy moo." 
 
 This was rather discouraging to the knife, for when The Jefful got 
 to the vowels that caused her lips to protrude it generally indicated 
 serious business ; so the knife went : 
 
 ' ' R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rip— ip-ip ." 
 
 Then The Jefful refreshed herself for a moment or two with her 
 thumb which gave the knife an advantage it was not slow to improve 
 But there was something affrighting in The Jefful's next remark: 
 
 [ With pretty strong emphasis, j 
 
 " Mom-mom-mom-mom-mom-mah ! 
 
 This last exclamation was long drawn out. 
 
 The knife had but two more yards to go before completing its 
 work, and away it flew, literally snapping out as mamma drew the 
 braid to its full tension. 
 
 [Sound of ripping should be made very emphatically.] 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Rip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip." 
 
 The baby opened her mouth so wide that she had to shut her 
 eyes as she wailed out a prolonged " Ya ! " ' 
 
 " Rip, rip, rip ! " replied the knife. 
 
 [Louder and more energetically.] 
 
 " Ya ! " 
 
 " Rip, rip, rip ! " replied the knife. 
 
 [Louder and more energetically .] ** Ya ! " 
 
 [Jumping a whole octave. ] 
 
 " Ya-a-a-a-a-a— a— a-a-a-mom-mah ! " 
 
 By this time every nerve in mamma's body had got into that little 
 knife. Again The Jefful raised her voice and said : 
 
 [Screaming at top of twice.] 
 
 " Ya-ya-ah-ee-ee-um-um-nga-ya oobutty - ubbut-tub-tub— kup- 
 put non koo poo choo." 
 
 This stimulated mamma to the utmost ; she had only a scant yard 
 to go — then only two feet — then only one — then only eight or 
 nine inches. 
 
 Just then The Jefful started again, at which mamma gave a harder 
 tug than usual at the braid, and crack it went backward tearing a 
 strip several inches wide of the facing and silk and taking them 
 with it. 
 
 Mamma dropped — threw the dress upon the floor, resisting a 
 vulgar impulse to stamp and dance upon it, and the face she were 
 as she started to take The Jefful boded nothing less than impalement 
 and subsequent quartering to that offender. But as mamma passed 
 through the door and Jefful saw her, the little face lighted up joyfully 
 as with arms extended she crowed : 
 
 " Obboo gobboo yabby, iddy, iddy, iddy," and mamma, the terri- 
 ble, the enraged, the avenger, the despoiled, took her baby in her 
 arms and didn't care one particle whether the dress would be too 
 short, or whether she could match the silk so as to cover the rent 
 with a flounce ; — she simply didn't care for anything but her wee, 
 pink-cheeked, bright-eyed laughing little Jefful. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. xo-j 
 
 THE FIRST SNOW. 
 
 Ella Dietz. 
 
 The author of this poem has recited it many times in London, where it is an 
 I especial favorite. 
 
 (A comedietta in verse.) 
 
 GOOD-BY ! the comedy's over, 
 Six months of love in the sun and clover, 
 Beginning with the sweet June weather, 
 And ending with this fall of snow. 
 Why, only yesterday, you know, 
 While we were tramping the woods together, 
 Crushing the brown leaves under feet, 
 You found a wild-flower. " Ah, how sweet !" 
 You cried. " This dear love, thing 
 Is worth a hundred in the Spring." 
 And then I smiled, for it seemed of late 
 We were growing remarkably stiff and straight, 
 And the words that I wanted most to say 
 Came in some strange, inverted way. 
 When I felt most tender I looked like a clown, 
 And my compliments turned upside down, 
 As if they partook of the common distortion. 
 But yet in this tangle I fancied a portion 
 Of the fault was yours. You had a trick 
 Of tripping me up, when you dropped your eyes 
 And smiled ; then, with a sudden prick, 
 In went your needle through and through 
 The worsted stuff into your finger. 
 Of course I was sorry. What could I do ? 
 Kiss the little wounded place ; 
 Which act you took with a shocking bad grace, 
 Saying, " Repeat, if you can, that wise 
 Remark you were making when I 
 
104 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Interrupted." Then awkwardly 
 
 I recount. Bah ! why should I linger 
 
 Over it now. When you found that flower 
 
 I thought it an omen, that this last hour 
 
 Might bring me some little blossom, too, 
 
 Just to help me die winter through. 
 
 But you, when you knew that I must go, 
 
 Grew colder and colder ; then came the snow. 
 
 If I wanted omens, here was one : 
 
 No flowers now, no Summer sun ; 
 
 And you, who used to be so merry, 
 
 Distant and strange. If I had begun 
 
 By holding over your head a cherry 
 
 And saying, " I will give you this 
 
 And a loving heart and a tender kiss, 
 
 And guard you all the days of my life 
 
 If you will promise to be my wife," 
 
 You'd have laughed a little and tried to reach, 
 
 And asked me where I learned that speech. 
 
 "Out of your nursery rhymes, I take it; 
 
 Well, here is my promise — remember I make it 
 
 For the sake of the cherry, sir, not for vou." 
 
 Then I should have known, what before I knew, 
 
 That we loved each other, just as the birds 
 
 Know it, without the use of words. 
 
 For words seemed futile between us two ; 
 
 Your face, your voice, your look, your smile 
 
 Told me you loved me all the while. 
 
 1 think then we had both been able, 
 
 By saying the multiplication table, 
 
 To express our love. As the fairy fable 
 
 Tells of a maiden whose mouth dropped pearls 
 
 (Because she was wise and the best of girls), 
 
 So whenever we spoke — it could not be stopped 
 
 If we opened our mouths then out love dropped. 
 
 But it did not need that we should speak — 
 
ELOC UTIONA R Y STUDIES. 1 05 
 
 The light of your eyes, the bloom on your cheek, 
 Told more than love verses written in Greek. 
 But how it ever came to this : 
 That I should somehow fail and miss 
 In holding you, I can't understand ; 
 You slipped so quietly from my hand, 
 And now a yawning wide abyss 
 Divides us. No fallen tree, no rope, 
 Nothing on which to hang a hope. 
 And so I say again, good-bye ; 
 This is the end of the comedy. 
 ******* 
 " May I know what your writing, please ? " 
 " Only a letter, something to tease 
 You when I'm gone." 
 
 " Are you going 
 Really ? Because you see it's snowing 
 So fast now — if you go to-night 
 You know you must start very soon — 
 Can't you wait till to-morrow noon ? " 
 " I think IVe waited too long already; 
 This is a snow-storm." 
 
 That remark 
 Remained unanswered over a minute, 
 Then — " You can't cross the river after dark; 
 Please stay " — with a voice unsteady. 
 Was the goal at hand ? Could I win it ? 
 Then suddenly all grew light ! 
 Ah ! the snow may go as it came ; 
 My heart leaped up as a flame 
 From the embers — I knew she was mine ; 
 My arms grew strong to enfold her, 
 My lips came closer, and told her, 
 In whispers — what you must divine 
 
io6 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 THE PHANTOM BALL. 
 
 Rosa Vertner Jeffrey. 
 
 THERE'S a staunch old Southern mansion near the broad 
 Potomac river, 
 How long it has been standing there no mortal seems to know ; 
 But the winds wail through the chimneys and around the windows 
 shiver, 
 As if it had belonged to them a century ago. 
 
 A look of solid grandeur, and quiet antique glory, 
 
 Marks die quaint, peaked attic windows and the wide, substantial 
 door ; 
 People say the house is haunted, but no weird or ghostly story 
 
 Pales the sunlight on the threshold falling brightly as of yore. 
 
 Yet within those stately chambers witching memories are thronging — 
 Gleams of misty bridal vesture, love-light born of starry eyes, 
 
 Shades of coffined brows transfigured, when, with eager, wistful 
 longing, 
 Patient spirits in their parting had a glimpse of Paradise. 
 
 There are wafts of light and shadow from the dusk or sunny tresses 
 
 Of ladies gliding gaily to the viol or the flute ; 
 Broken vows and prayerful partings, clinging kisses and caresses, 
 
 Left by hearts surcharged with passion, glowing lips now cold 
 and mute. 
 
 Changing scenes and changing faces, like the panorama passing, 
 While the old clock, tall and spectral, points in warning, as of yore, 
 
 To the little flying minutes — Time's coral builders — massing 
 As milestones to eternity, the ages on life's shore. 
 
 Left alone unto my dreamings, in that mansion old and haunted, 
 As the midnight hour was sounding came sweet echoes soft and 
 low. 
 
 From the ball-room up above me : it must surely be enchanted, 
 For footsteps there were gliding — swiftly gliding to and fro. 
 
ELOCUTIONAL Y STUDIES. i 07 
 
 On it swept, my senses thrilling, and the solemn silence rifting, 
 Till my pulses throbbed in rhythm with the pulses of the air — 
 
 A wave of magic melody my very soul uplifting, 
 
 Till in fancy's wake I followed up the dark, old-fashioned stair. 
 
 I knew they must be .spirits, a gay crowd of spectres dancing, 
 
 In that now moon-silvered chamber where they danced in bygone 
 days, 
 When it shone a brilliant ball-room, but, as then, bright lights were 
 glancing 
 'Neath the doors and through the keyholes — lo ! the room was in 
 a blaze. 
 
 To a keyhole observation then I stooped ; it was entrancing. 
 
 Oh ! ghost-land, thy rich jewels and thy satins and thy gold, 
 iHave a marvelous glamor, and thy ladies gaily glancing 
 
 Through the minuet, a beauty that is wondrous to behold. 
 
 And thy cavaliers too charming, with their spirit-land afflatus, 
 To meet in nightly revels very often, heaven knows, 
 
 Without some queer comparisons, which might affect the status, 
 And unsettle the proud prestige of earth's self-approving beaux. 
 
 All so courtly in their deference to the fair ones, who maintained 
 Such a queenly pose in walzing, spite their undulating grace, 
 
 And their flowing, powdered tresses, that no tell tale dust remained 
 On their partners' dark coats, telling of the ball-room's close 
 embrace. 
 
 Growing bolder and more eager, I arose, and, slyly creeping, 
 
 All unnoticed by their ghostships, through a partly opened door, 
 
 And past a lovely lady, who, with Lafayette, was sweeping 
 
 To a grand and stately measure, through the menuct de la cour. 
 
 With our own immortal Washington, to lighter measures flying, 
 I danced a wild fandango, till some woman shrieked, — "Away, — 
 
 Thou art mortal." I ignored her, even female ghosts are prying — 
 But felt put out and defeated when the Frenchman cried, "Sortez," 
 
1 08 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 For a single human presence broke the spells of that weird meeting 
 They were severed by the throbbing of one restless human heart, jr! 
 
 As the rainbow-tinted bubbles, so beautiful and fleeting, 
 
 Are all broken by the swiftness of the current whence they start. 
 
 I beheld the head of Washington around me glancing, 
 
 With a thrill of terror, noting his silk-stockinged limbs were lost ; | 
 
 Lafayette's head, disappearing, left his shapely legs still dancing, 
 And I dreaded the misfitting of somebody's glorious ghost. 
 
 For the granddames fell to pieces in the midst of their revolving, 
 Jewelled arms and brows and bosoms, starry eyes, soft tresses, all 
 
 In a bright phantasmagoria flashing round me and dissolving, 
 As I fled with cries of terror, from that haunted dancing-hall. 
 
 ESSAY ON NECKS.— (By a Young Scientist J 
 
 Laura M. Bronson. 
 
 Of all the school compositions, beginning with the famous one " Upon a Horse," 
 this is the very best. It is, of course, supposed to be read from a paper in hand. 
 The reader comes out on the platform with brisk, self-reliant step. He makes a 
 short, stiff bow, and reads with a high-pitched voice. His tone and manner 
 show that he beiieves in himself, and has no doubts in regard to the success of 
 his reading or the astonishing value of the production. He concludes in a vic- 
 torious manner, makes a lower but not less inflexible bow and stalks proudly off 
 the stage. This is one way. Let the reciter adopt another if he have a better. 
 
 NECKS are very convenient to have. Bull-frogs & toads don't 
 need them, except bull-frogs when they give concerts in the 
 midd e of the night, when they are very useful. Turtles are very 
 savin' of theirs & swallow them to get them out of the way. 
 
 Men have to have necks, too, or they couldn't be swung up on 
 gallowses to amuse women and little boys at hangin' bees. 
 
 A giraff has a neck growin' out of the 'upper end of his body & 
 it is small at the top which he uses to swallow with, & it grows long 
 & slim to make things taste good all the way down, which is different 
 from snakes, for snakes have necks all the way to the ends of their 
 tails and are smaller at the bot-bottom & can swallow toads & I 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 109 
 
 lings without chew-chew-chewing of them ; but it takes a good 
 mile to do it. 
 
 Roosters & ministers & lions have to have necks to crow with and 
 Dar with, only roosters don't have to have white neckties to crow in- 
 l, they can crow good enough without-without them, & have to 
 et up too early in the morning to fix them on, cause, too, they 
 i.on't have lookin' glasses in the barnyards to see how they look 
 rithout them. 
 
 Lions never sees neckties, for they roar in forests, except when 
 hey live in cages. 
 
 Hens have necks, too, but they don't crow cause they are fe- 
 smales & females only cack-cackle. 
 
 There is an animal called a crow which have necks to eat corn 
 yith, but they never use them like roosters. 
 
 I like roosters and lions better than I like toads or snakes or 
 ;iraffes or ministers, or a bull-frog or a hen or crows. 
 
 A great many more things have necks, but I can't think of them 
 
 LOW. 
 
 FRITZ. 
 
 Anna Randali.-Diehl. 
 
 (Written for the Grandmother's Department of the "Christian at Work.") 
 
 [SHALL tell you of two little fellows who bore that name. One 
 of them lived in a grand and beautiful house on Fifth avenue. 
 He had the most tender care you could imagine, and never waited 
 i>n himself for anything on earth he wanted. He had the most 
 lelicate food, was clad in the warmest clothing in winter, and the 
 :oolest possible in sumnw. On sunny days in winter, wrapped up 
 o his ears in a coat well stuffed with eider down, he looked from 
 he closed windows of a carriage as it rolled through Central Park, 
 tnd in summer he took his daily rides in a beautiful landau with the 
 op thrown back so that he could enjoy the air and see the lovely 
 
no EL OCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 country through which he passed. Do you envy the one on whom 
 all this luxury was expended ? 
 
 The other Fritz lived, I ought to say existed, away down in an 
 alley near the East River. He never had a warm suit of clothing 
 from head to foot in his life. If he got up early in the morning to 
 be ahead of the Italians and raked out a comfortable pair of shoes 
 from an ash-barrel, he was sure at that time to have a coat that gave 
 his poor little shivering body perfect ventilation. If by chance, as 
 it happened once or twice, somebody gave him a coat and a decent 
 pair of breeches, his shoes were like sieves and his hat ditto. But 
 he went barefooted a good portion of the year. You would 
 scarcely have noticed that he did not wear shoes if it had not been 
 for his ten toes ; for his feet, which had never had an application of 
 soap and water, were so black that they almost looked as if they had 
 a covering. This little Fritz did not have a bowl of rich cream and 
 a smoking chop for his breakfast. He was glad to get anything that 
 would fill up that awful big place in his stomach which was always 
 crying for " more," and somehow never got satisfied. A bit of cold 
 steak, handed out by some warm-hearted Irish girl through the grate 
 of the basement door, was a god-send and fairly set him up for a 
 week. This little fellow was not idle. Enough money came into 
 his hands to make him comfortable if he had been permitted to use 
 even a little of it for himself. He sold papers night and morning. 
 Once in a great while somebody gave him a nickel for a penny 
 paper and did not wait for the change, or generously told him to 
 keep the pennies. With four cents of his own, which you may be 
 sure he lost little time in spending, he ran the risk of not having 
 substantial food, and indulged in pop corn, candy or peanuts. This 
 little chap had a drunken father ; he wasn't much like a father, and 
 Fritz sometimes doubted very much if that relationship existed. 
 How could it ? for the man cared nothing for the little one's com- 
 fort and beat him most cruelly if the whole value of the papers sold 
 daily were not given into his hand every night. There was always 
 money kept to buy the papers next day or the business would have 
 been at an end, but the profits all ran down the throat of the man in 
 the shape of whiskey. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. in 
 
 One day the Fifth avenue Fritz died. It was a clear case of an 
 overdose of luxury. He was placed in a handsome coffin lined with 
 pale blue satin, and laid away in a choice little nook on the grounds 
 .of the country-seat where he had breathed his last. 
 
 It was a long, cold winter, and the other Fritz had been out in all 
 sorts of. weather with never a fire to dry his rain-soaked rags at 
 ?night, or a cup of hot coffee to warm his stomach in the morning. 
 J Is it strange that he began to cough and that ere long his great 
 ! black eyes gleamed out like stars set in his pale, hunger-pinched' 
 jface ? 
 
 I God is good, and one night there was one little voice less to cry 
 nat the Brooklyn Bridge, " Daily Noo-ez — one cent." 
 
 Fritz had gone to that country where they need not the light of 
 jthe sun by day, nor the moon by night, and the inhabitants neve 
 [say, " I am sick." 
 
 ] His poor little body found rest in an unpainted coffin and was 
 flaid away in the Potter's Field. 
 
 i The Fifth avenue Fritz was a dog, a silver Skye, the other a 
 <child. God pity such ! 
 f Ah me '. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS GIFT. 
 
 David L. Proudfit. 
 
 Mr. Proudfit was first known in literature under the name of " Peleg Ark- 
 iwright." Many of his earlier poems were in dialect form. They were full of the 
 igamin sentiment, the tenderness, the pathos of the poor and uneducated. His 
 later poems are pitched upon a higher key, but they are no less true to nature. 
 Among those most popular as recitations are " Poor Little Joe," " Drowned," 
 "Love on the Half-Shell," "Warden, Keep a Place for Me," "Love in a 
 Kitchen," "A Catastrophe," "The Last Ride," and "The Palmer." 
 
 HE was feeble and old and his figure was drooping, 
 As he sat there watching the boy in his sleep, 
 Ana tremulous shadows were waving about him, 
 As the fire burned fitful with flicker and leap. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Burning with fever' the boy lay moaning, 
 His sunken eyes were aglow with red, 
 
 And his little hands with their restless fingers 
 Wandered uneasily over the bed. 
 
 The aged watcher, with pleading anguish, 
 Pours his heart in an earnest prayer — 
 
 A prayer of importunate, tender yearning 
 
 For the sweet young life that is fading there— 
 
 The one dear life that is left to care for. 
 
 O, blessed Christ ! on thy natal day, 
 Out of Thine infinite love and pity, 
 
 The hand of the dread destroyer stay ! 
 
 The boy sleeps on, and the snow is falling 
 Out in the silent and sorrowful night, 
 
 And the shadows mock at the old man's figure, 
 Sitting there in the flickering light. 
 
 It is Christmas eve, and the thought came quickly 
 
 Bringing a tear to his faded eye — 
 " The light of the Christmas sun will show me 
 
 If the little one is to live or die." 
 
 Sudden he stoops, with an anxious gesture — 
 The little sleeper has made a moan — 
 
 His lips are moving, the words come trembling ; 
 The old man listens and stifles a groan. 
 
 " Is it Christmas yet ? It is long in coming 
 Why is it hot ? I am burning here ! 
 
 Christmas comes in the winter weather — 
 It can't be Christmas yet, grandpa, dear — 
 
 " Christmas comes in the winter weather 
 When the air is frosty and cold, I know; 
 
 You said I would hear the sleigh-bells jingle, 
 And bundle up and go out in the snow. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 113 
 
 "And you said in the beautiful Christmas morning — 
 But it can't be morning, the room is so dark — 
 
 If I was good, so that He could love me, 
 
 The Christ-child might bring me a Noah's ark. 
 
 " My throat is so sore ! will it ever be morning ? 
 
 Grandpa, dear, I should like to pray 
 That the Christ-child would come and make me better 
 
 And take this pain in my head away." 
 
 The blue eyes close, but the lips are still moving, 
 And the little fingers are folded in prayer — 
 
 Till again he drops into the restless slumber, 
 And again the old man is watching him there ; 
 
 Till he rises to place in a little stocking 
 
 A few loving gifts for the Christmas morn ; 
 
 But, as he thinks, "will the little one need them ?" 
 The hot tears roll from his eyes forlorn. 
 
 And the hours go by, and out in the darkness 
 
 The chill white snow drops out of the sky, 
 Shrouding the world in a ghostly garment — 
 
 The dead, cold world — as the hours go by. 
 
 While up through the night to the throne of Heaven— 
 
 Up to the pitying Christ on high — 
 The angels have carried the old man's prayer 
 
 And the broken words of the child's weak cry. 
 
 The night is past and the clouds have vanished I 
 
 Cold and clear is the morning's light ; 
 But still the aged eyes are watching, 
 
 Dim with the shadows that haunt the night. 
 
 But the face of the sleeping boy is placid ; 
 
 The fever is gone. Will he waken to die ? 
 The sweet eyes open in tranquil beauty — 
 
 Their blue is as clear as the morning sky. 
 
1 14 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 And " Grandpa, dear," said his thin, weak treble, 
 " I thought my mamma was standing there; 
 
 Her face was white, but her eyes were loving, 
 And I'm sure 't was her hand touched my hair. 
 
 "And the pain went out of my head that minute 
 And a pleasant feeling upon me fell ; 
 
 Grandpa, dear, did the Christ-child send her 
 Out of Heaven to make me well ? 
 
 "And now it is Christmas morning, isn't it ? 
 
 Is that the jingle of sleigh-bells ? Hark ! 
 And there's my stocking ! — Oh, see there, grandpa ! 
 
 The Christ-child remembered my Noah's ark." 
 
 They are tears of joy the old man is shedding, 
 As his poor eyes blink in the rising sun, 
 
 For the blessed gift of that Christmas morning — 
 The precious life of the little one. 
 
 THE GYPSY FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 Ed. L. McDowell. 
 
 This poem was written for " The Voice " and published April, 1887. While 
 all rights are reserved, it has been kindly given to these pages. It affords one 
 of the best elocutionary studies possible, and is eminently adapted for public 
 recitation. 
 
 r r*HE narration would interest you were it repeated in the most 
 1 simple manner, but the gypsy girl tells her thrilling story so 
 dramatically, that you are carried away to the Mediterranean's very 
 shores. You climb with her to the eagle's nest far up the Sierra's 
 slope ; you sympathize with her in infatuation for Don Jose and her 
 hatred of her rival ; you see her in her strange encounter with the 
 Atric lion, and almost hold your breath until all is over and she is 
 safe. You know that, now, as she tells her story her heart is broken 
 and her mind distraught, and are moved to keenest pity as she cries 
 her roses and sings her little song. 
 
 The recitation becomes more effective if given in costume, with 
 a pretty tambourine and a basket of roses. The dress is as follow? : 
 
ELOCUTIONAL Y STUDIES. 1 1 5 
 
 ikirt, gathered very full, reaching half way below the knee, of dark 
 >lue material with border at the bottom, six inches deep, of pale 
 euion color ; blouse of white linen gathered full at front and back, 
 leeves starched very stiff, full at shoulder and wrist. Over the 
 )louse is worn a pointed " peasant " waist of red velvet laced front 
 md back with gold cord finished with tassels at the ends. The 
 lockings are white, and when worn are wound about with dark blue 
 ibbons, crossing front and back ; black morocco slippers with low 
 ueels ; a turban, entwined of gayly colored breadths of silk, is coiled 
 ibout the head. 
 
 Pronunciation. 
 
 Zingarella — Zeen-gah-rail-yah. 
 
 Don Jose — Don Oza. 
 
 Egypta — A-jyp-tah. 
 
 Sierra Nevada's — Se-er-rah Na-vah-dah« 
 
 Morena — Mo-ra-nah. 
 
 Malaga — Mahl-ah-gah. 
 
 Zhock — Shock. 
 
 Senorita — Sain-yore-e-tah. 
 
 Senor — Sain-yore. 
 
 Buy my roses senorita, you sefior 
 You, fair Inglees maiden. 
 
 Seem to interrupt a person who is passing at the right, as you 
 peak the first four words, giving slight emphasis on " buy," " roses," 
 )ut greater on " senorita." Address the gentleman as if he were in 
 he company of the lady, emphasizing " you," and pausing before 
 ittering the next word, " senor." which is also emphatic. 
 
 You now turn to the left, as if a person were passing upon that 
 ■ide, extending left hand as you say " you ; " pause and with a slight 
 t>ow and smile of admiration at the winsome beauty of the English 
 jjirl, and say, with a confident, though a little pleading tone, "fair 
 nglees maiden," pausing slightly after "fair" and longer after 
 ' Inglees." 
 
 Sing, tambourine accompaniment playing in a listless way, as if 
 r ou did not think of the instrument. 
 
 Not like the mountain rose wrth perfume laden, 
 Only tame roses with the morning blush gone, 
 Like wild Zingarella whose lover has flown. 
 
116 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 The face assumes a serious tone and grows sadder as the little 
 song goes on. When the last line is ended, you seem utterly lost in 
 revery, and the expression is most pathetic. Some by-stander asks 
 your name and this calls back your thoughts. 
 
 What is my name ? 
 
 Wild Zingarella. 
 
 Daughter of the Nevadas am I called. 
 
 Where was I born ? 
 
 Aloft and beyond the eagle's nest, 
 
 Far up in yon Sierra Nevadas. 
 
 " What is my name ? " Emphasize " what," pause a moment after; 
 emphasize "Wild Zingarella," and draw yourself up with pride. 
 "Daughter of the Nevadas," spoken as if tin's were a great honor; em- 
 phasize " daughter," " Nevadas." Some one asks, '■ Where were you 
 born ? " And you repeat the question, " Where was 1 born ?" empha- 
 sizing " where," pausing after " where," and emphasizing "born." 
 In giving the answer, "Aloft and beyond the eagle's nest," upon the 
 first word direct the eye to right oblique, far up an imaginary cliff, 
 pointing with right hand as you say, " and beyond the eagle's nest;" 
 pause after " beyond," pronounce " eagle's nest " very distinctly„(not 
 "eagle snest"). Dwell on the words " Far up;" pause, speak "yon 
 Sierra Nevada's " as if you actually see the mountains, and use 
 gesture as if outlining them. 
 
 My childhood was a wild-cat life. 
 
 From early morn until the stars 
 
 Shone o'er the Mediterranean, 
 
 I nothing did but laugh, and sing, and dance with 
 
 My wild gypsy bell'd tambourine, and fling 
 
 Defiance in the face of death, and swing 
 
 Far out from cliffs and mountain peaks 
 
 Where sea gulls build and wild-cats shriek, — 
 
 Shrieks that my wild heart lov'd to hear, 
 
 Nor dreamed of such a thing as fear. 
 
 Take a conversational tone ; emphasize " childhood, wild-cat, life, 
 early, morn, stars, shone, o'er, Mediterranean, " pausing after 
 " childhood, wild-cat, morn, o'er." 
 
 |W^ 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 117 
 
 The tone should now grow more sprightly. Give explosive em- 
 phasis indicating exultant joy in the remembrance on " laugh, sing, 
 dance, wild, gypsy, bell'd, tambourine." " Defiance " is given with 
 final stress and is very explosive ; " swing " slightly emphatic ; " far 
 out" with swelling voice; staccato emphasis on " cliff, mountain 
 peaks." Pause after "where," emphasize '■ sea gulls, build, wild- 
 cat, shrieks." Be careful to sound the // in "shrieks." Give second 
 " shrieks " louder than first with final stress and downward slide as 
 " sh rieks ; " the remainder of the line is read in an exultant tone. 
 
 Emphasize with falling slide " dreamed," " fear ; " pause after 
 " dreamed." 
 
 Fear? 
 
 Climbing to where the Sierras lift 
 
 Their snow-draped foreheads against the skies, 
 
 Then swing off and down on a swift snowdrift, 
 
 To where the summer queen reigns and the ice king dies. 
 
 " Fear ? " compound stress. Run up an octave of surprise on 
 the question. " Climbing " emphatic, (hold on to Jig), strong em- 
 phasis on " Sierra's " and less on " where, lift, snow-draped, fore- 
 heads against skies." Gesture is given with full sweep of arm, hand 
 pointing out or defining ; eye corresponding. Pause after "then;" 
 "swing off and down " with a free movement of voice; quicken 
 time on " swift snowdrift." 
 
 Pause after "where, queen, king." Emphasize "where, summer, 
 queen, reigns, ice king, dies." 
 
 Fear ? 
 
 Hunting the leopard in dark sunless glades, 
 Whipping the tiger with my wild -cat braids, ^ 
 'Midst the innermost dangers that beset gypsy tribes, 
 Whose life is but strife and whose law is the knife,— 
 There was I born ; 
 
 " Fear ? " as before, though stronger, if possible. " Hunting," 
 emphasize and hold on to ng a moment; "leopard" with em- 
 phasis, after which pause ; lower pitch on prepositional phrase " dark, 
 sunless glades," with emphasis upon each word. " Whipping," 
 hold on to ng ; " tiger" strong downward slide ; emphasize "wild- 
 cat, braids, dangers, beset, gypsy, tribes, life, strife, law, knife." 
 " There " and " born " must be emphatic, followed by pause. 
 
n8 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 There lived I ; 
 
 There was I named Zingarella. 
 
 Then Don Jose came : he of the Sierra Morena tribe, 
 
 And camped near the grape hills of old Malaga. 
 
 Yes, Don Jose came ; and I, I, Zinga, 
 
 Wild Zingarella fawned even at his feet. 
 
 Pause after " there " in first and second line ; emphasize " lived 
 I, named Zingarella;" pause after "named." "Don Jose" is 
 spoken with pride; "He of the Sierra Morena tribe," explanatory 
 and given lower. Cumulative emphasis on " I, I, Zinga, wild Zin- 
 garella ;" drop voice and emphasize with falling inflection " fawned, 
 even, feet." 
 
 But O when love is not returned, 
 Meeting with looks but sternly kind, 
 It turns the heart to fire — then ashes — 
 And makes a ghost-walk of the mind. 
 
 " But O " with great pathos ; " when love is not returned," great 
 falling slide on " returned." Clasp hands as if in despair. Empha- 
 size " Meeting, looks, sternly, kind," with very sad tone, fiercely 
 gasping the words "turns, heart, fire," strong emphasis on last word. 
 Fall in pitch and pronounce " then ashes," " ghost-walk," slight 
 aspirate; end the line weeping, long pause filled wi.th weeping, 
 recover yourself impulsively and seem to throw off the present feel- 
 ing as you go back in memory to the old infatuation for Don Jose. 
 
 In the kingly majesty of Don Jose's presence 
 I stood as one entranced, bewildered, yet 
 Joyously amazed at my too-fond heart's deep 
 Bewilderment; aye, as a broken-winged bird 
 I fluttered at his feet. 
 
 Let kingly majesty be shown in your very attitude as in pride and 
 love you pronounce the first line. "I stood " slightly emphatic; 
 pronounce " entranced " as if lost in adoring admiration ; " bewil- 
 dered " in a dazed and puzzled way; "Joyously amazed," great 
 swell of voice with victorious utterance, while indescribable feeling 
 in tone and force is given on "too-fond, heart's;" on "deep 
 bewilderment ' you seem slightly confused. " Aye," distinct fall- 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 119 
 
 ing emphasis ; " as a broken-winged bird," pathetically ; it is tender 
 and low in pitch ; " fluttered at his feet " spoken very gently, but as 
 if it were a joy and honor to occupy that lowly position. 
 
 Then Egypta came — she of the proud Cordova tribe, 
 And camped on the slopes above the roar of the sea. 
 Egypta came and dared to come between my love and inc. 
 She stood before my king, my idol, my adored, with 
 Imperious brow and mocking airs ; she dared to stand 
 Before him with her enchanting, snaky eyes aglow. 
 Unabashed, defiant and unawed she stood, 
 And — and — and Don Jose's heart and head — 
 O I cannot, cannot tell the rest. 
 There at the foot of yon mountain-pass, 
 Don Jose met Egypta. 
 
 The whole attitude now changes. With erect form, flashing eye 
 and distinct voice, slightly tinged with the hatred she feels, she says, 
 "Then [pause] Egypta [pause] came." "She" is fairly hissed, and 
 the pause which follows is filled with the expression of concentrated 
 though suppressed hate ; it is shown by deep and rapid breathing, 
 flashing eyes under lowered lid, head slightly moving from side to 
 side, teeth set. " Proud Cordova tribe " in strong, full tone, with a 
 curl of scorn upon the lips. 
 
 " Camped upon the slopes above the roar of the sea," is simply 
 descriptive with gesture of the eye and hand. " Egypta came," first 
 very emphatic, explosive force, downward slide, pause after each 
 word. The name is pronounced as if you would like to tear your 
 rival limb from limb. A long pause follows, " and dared " is spoken 
 widi menacing look, "to come between my love and me." Upon 
 the last the voice sinks and is tenderly sad; you rouse yourself; 
 your scorn returns as you say, " She stood before," then the voice 
 falls to a low, worshipful tone upon " my idol," swelling out on "my 
 adored;" then gathering up your hate, you say " with imperious brow 
 and mocking airs," giving supreme scorn on "mocking," "she 
 dared [explosively spoken] to stand before him." " Enchanting, 
 snaky eyes" is hissed through set teeth, while "unabashed, defiant, 
 unawed" is given with proud hate. "And — and" is given as if 
 with (lie Avail of a broken heart, with fast-filling tears and choking 
 voice, " Oh 1 cannot, cannot tell the rest," you pause, overcome 
 by nnotion, then summing up your strength you rally, and go on 
 
1 20 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 with the description, pointing in the direction indicated, you say 
 " There [pause] at the foot [pause] of yon mountain-pass ;" " met 
 Egypta," last two words are given slowly but distinctly. 
 
 There she stole my lover frojrrl me , 
 There she palmed her faith into his soul ; 
 She practiced on Don Jose's palms and read 
 His fate as foreordained with hers. 
 She forged him tales of their twin destinies, 
 Till Jose's soui was at her feet, 
 His every thought her slave. 
 Thus wooed they. 
 
 The first line is spoken while burning tears are falling, but all the 
 jealous hate returns as she goes on. " She practiced on Don Jose's 
 palms," there should be a pause filled up with scorn after "she." 
 
 " She forged him tales " is hissed from shut teeth, but the tone 
 falls, as if in very pity for the captive, as the words are spoken " till 
 Jose's soul was at her feet, his every thought her slave." " Thus 
 wooed they " is simply discriptive. 
 
 One dark and starless storm-portending night 
 
 I, with my faithful Afric lion, 
 
 Sought forgetfulness in the mountains ; 
 
 Sought in vain io cool my feverish, burning blood. 
 
 A sudden flame of lightning startled me, frightened 
 
 My soul with a sense that I had wandered too near 
 
 The purple cliffs of Malaga, too near the spot 1 hated most 
 
 And prayed to keep most distant from. 
 
 Change to heavier force and emphasize " dark, starless, storm-por- 
 tending, night, I, faithful. Afric lion ; " lower the voice on " sought, 
 forgetfulness, mountains ;" " sought " and " vain " are o;iven with fall- 
 ing slide; "cool" with a swell of voice; on "feverish " dwell on first 
 syllable ; speak "burning" fiercely. Quicken time on "sudden 
 flame of lightning." " Startled " should be spoken tremulously and 
 slightly aspirated ; " frightened " with stronger tremor. " Soul, 
 sense, T, had wandered too near, cliffs-, Malaga, too near, spot hated 
 [express hate|, prayed, [plaintive coloring of tone] to, keep, most 
 distant, from," are all emphatic. 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 2 1 
 
 My Zhock, my faithful Afric lion, my childhood's 
 
 Faithful lover and trusty, true and only friend ; 
 
 My faithful Zhock — 
 
 Whose native fierce and fiery nature seemed 
 
 Now most like my own — was at my side. 
 
 Thrice as we moved along the slope 
 
 Had Zhock growled hard, and snapped his glittering teeth, 
 
 And crouched as t'were to spring ; 
 
 And thrice had I as fiercely, yet more silently, 
 
 Warned him back and down. 
 
 But when I heard Egypta's cursed kiss, 
 
 And saw her snaky-, coiling arms around 
 
 Don Jose's neck, 
 
 And heard him swear by Egypta's gods 
 
 That he was hers alone, — 
 
 " Sic, sic ! upon them, Zhock ! " I cried, 
 
 With all my wild-cat nature 
 
 Boiling, seething, hissing hot 
 
 Through all my veins, — 
 
 Hissing through my lips and brain. 
 
 " Sic, sic ! upon them Zhock l " I cried ; 
 
 And urged my Afric lion on. 
 
 " My Zhock, my faithful Afric lion, childhood's faithful lover, 
 trusty, true, only friend," all given as if loving to dwell upon the 
 words descriptive of " My faithful Zhock." As his ^native, fierce, 
 fiery nature, most like my own " is described, the voice gains strength 
 and the attitude becomes commanding. With " as we moved along 
 the slope," glide a little to one side, as if stepping cautiously, or 
 make the descriptive movement with the hand. " Growled hard " is 
 spoken with a distinct guttural voice; "snapped" is spoken quickly, 
 indicative of the word; at "crouched" cower slightly. "As t'were 
 to spring," is spoken rapidly; "Thrice had I warned him back and 
 down" is spoken low, but with much force. "But when I heard 
 Egypta's cursed kiss, and saw her snaky, coiling arms around Don 
 Jose's neck," is spoken with the utmost extreme of murderous hate. 
 Until now the gypsy girl has not ceased to love and pity Don Jose, 
 believing him to be the dupe of her rival's wiles ; but as she hears 
 him, "swear by Egypta's gods that he was hers alone, — " like a 
 
122 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 mighty avalanche her hate burst forth. With glaring eyes she leans 
 far over the cliff, and pointing downward gives her word of command 
 to the fierce beast who has been trained to obey her every word and 
 
 look. " S ic ! s ic ! " Clap hands strongly upon these 
 
 exclamations ; point with a vigorous movement toward the lovers', 
 "upon them Zhock." The lion obeys; he scarcely needs the 
 second' command. 
 
 The thund'rous heavens now stormed 
 
 And lightnings flashed ; 
 
 But storm nor thunder peals were aught 
 
 To the roar of my kingly lion, 
 
 Or the flashing, blazing eyes of that defiant, god-like man. 
 
 With full gesture and stirring voice the storm is described, and the 
 words are most exultingly spoken, ".But storm nor thunder peals 
 were aught to the roar of my kingly lion." In the words " Or 
 the flashing, blazing eyes of that defiant, god-like man," it must be 
 shown that her admiration has returned. 
 
 Don Jose's long stiletto flashed athwart 
 
 The lightning's lurid gleams. 
 
 Thus armed, he stood covering Egypta with his left, 
 
 His right well-sinewed arm upheld and daggered. 
 
 Thus armed, he stood sternly waiting the attack. 
 
 Zhock sprang and bore Don Jose to the ground. 
 
 The stiletto is in Don Jose's strong, right hand, while with his left 
 he guards Egypta from the attack, a moment more and the lion. has 
 borne him to the ground. 
 
 " Back Zhock ! back Zhock ! back to thy mistress, back ! " 
 
 In vain I cried, I cried in vain. 
 
 Through the glare of the storm — 
 
 Lo ! Egypta has seized Don Jose's dirk ; 
 
 Quickly it falls across my Afric lion's eyes. 
 
 Zhock reluctantly relaxes his weakened hold 
 
 And sneaks away with hurt, blood-blinded eyes. 
 
 Now Don Jose and Egypta fly toward the sea. 
 
 Thank heaven they reach the cliffs — now disappear. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 123 
 
 Then show that all her love has returned, and vengeance on her 
 rival is forgotten as she sees Don Jose's peril. With all her voice 
 she madly cries : " Back Zhock ! back Zhock ! back to thy mis- 
 tress, back ! " The command is given in loud, explosive tones. " In 
 vain, I cried, I cried in vain " is given pathetically with distinct fall- 
 ing on " vain " in both instances. She is even glad when she sees 
 that Egypta has seized the dirk and has struck the lion between the 
 eyes, for now the beast gives up the fight, and Don Jose and Egypta 
 climb the cliff and disappear. 
 
 The hands should be clasped as she sees the flying pair go up 
 the cliff — and a frenzy of joy seems to be reached when they are 
 safe. 
 
 " Help ! why Zhock, how you startled me ; 
 
 Why Zhock, how you glare, how you stare ! 
 
 Down ! shame, shame," — Ha ! I know now, Zhock is mad ! 
 
 Help ! God of the Christians ! 
 
 Hungry with the taste of Don Jose's blood 
 
 My Afric lion now returns eager for mine own. 
 
 Where shall I flee ? 
 
 You will find a difficult study in what follows. The bleeding lion 
 returns to his mistress, but not now her playful fellow, her faithful 
 servant. " Help ! " she cries wildly, " Zhock, how you startled me " 
 in a reassuring tone ; " Zhock, how you glare, how you stare ! " 
 here fear has reached the wildest state, but by a mighty force of will 
 she conceals her terror, and drawing herself to most commanding 
 figure she cries, " Down ! shame ! shame ! " (Imagine the attitude 
 and assume it.) She looks the lion in the eye, but he does not 
 quail, and then she knows that he is mad. " Help, God of the 
 Christians," she cries loudly. 
 
 " Hungry with the taste of Don Jose's blood my Afric lion now 
 returns eager for mine own " is spoken rapidly, with husky, choking 
 voice. 
 
 " Back, down ! sic! upon them Zhock — - 
 
 Yonder Zhock, down by the sea. 
 
 Zhock, how dare you ! peace, Zhock. 
 
 I am wild Zingarella, thy mistress, fair boy, 
 
 Down, back, away ! down ! down ! " 
 
 Life is dear to her and she endeavors to call off the hungry beast 
 and send him after his escaping victims. " Back ! down ! upon 
 
in ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 them Zhock ! Yonder Zhock, down by die sea." In vain her com- 
 mand ; then she pleads, " I am wild Zingarella, thy mistress." 
 
 I feel his thorny claws around my neck, 
 
 His hot breath on my throat. 
 
 Thrice with my stiletto do I cut the monster down. 
 
 Backward toward the cliffs of Malaga 
 
 I fight my horrible way. 
 
 I near the cliffs, keeping the frenzied beast at bay, 
 
 Backwardly fighting, parrying, evading, 
 
 With supernatural strength I hold 
 
 The treacherous wretch at bay. 
 
 " I feel his thorny claws around my neck," gesture is given with 
 right hand on the throat, as if to clutch it — in a terrible whisper 
 you say the words " His hot breath on my throat." With her eye 
 upon his f ye beating him back at every step, " parrying, evading," 
 she makes her way backward toward the cliff. Make a movement 
 as if going back, and seem to fight your way ; the action can 
 scarcely be overdone. 
 
 At length I reach the cliffs. 
 
 Twice, thrice my good steel pierces 
 
 The raging, foaming lion's side ; 
 
 Then with a prayer to the Christian's God, 
 
 I plunge far down in the roaring tide. 
 
 Zhock's eyes like crackling gypsy camp-fires shine; 
 
 Or as twin danger signals, out on the sea. 
 
 With a roar of rage far out he leaps. 
 
 But the Christian's God was kind to me, 
 
 For e'en as Zhock sprang some hunter's gun spake 
 
 And Zhock from the sea will never awake. 
 
 "At length [pause] I reach the cliffs," explosive force is given on 
 " twice, thrice, steel pierces, raging, foaming lion's side." 
 
 " Then with a prayer," modulated voice, clasped hands and up- 
 turned eyes; " I plunge," falling inflection ; " with a roar of rage," 
 increased emphasis; " far out," dwell upon the words; "he leaps" is 
 spoken quickly with a short pause after " he ; " " but the Christian's 
 God was kind to me " is spoken with gentle voice and a 3ad smile. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 125 
 
 That was the day my wild spirit fled. 
 
 See, these roses bear the stains 
 
 Of the deep wounds which bled. 
 
 Oft my brain grows wild and my tame body shrinks 
 
 'Neath the terrible glare of Zhock's eyes — there ! 
 
 Methinks I see them again — see there, see, see, how he blinks. 
 
 Now he smacks his blood- dripping hunger-set jaws — 
 
 Now he tenses his muscles till his uncovered claws 
 
 Spread out and scratch fire from the flint-surfaced rocks. 
 
 Now he springs — boom ! boom ! goes the gun. I am saved ! 
 
 I am free ! 
 And Zingarella, wild Zinga is fished out of the sea. 
 
 In recounting the story, Zingarella's mind wanders, and she goes 
 over the terrible scene again in memory. The last line is given very 
 exultingly. 
 
 Try and work up your imagination to the point where full justice 
 is given the last dozen lines. Cry the roses as at the beginning. 
 
 So now buy my flowers, tame flowers, sweet maiden. 
 
 Sing very plaintively : 
 
 Not like the mountain rose with perfume laden, 
 Only tame roses with the morning blush gone, 
 Like wild Zingarella whose lover has flown. 
 
 This grand recitation will repay your trouble, if you give months 
 to the study of it. 
 
 FIVE LITTLE CHICKENS. 
 
 (Recitation for a child.) 
 
 SAID the first little chicken 
 With a queer little squirm, 
 " O, I wish I could find 
 A fat little worm ! " 
 
126 ELOCUUOXARY STUDIES, 
 
 Said the next little chicken 
 With an odd little shrug, 
 
 " O, I wish I could find 
 A fat little bug ! " 
 
 Said the third little chicken 
 With a sharp little squeal, 
 
 " Oh, I wish I could find 
 Some nice yellow meal ! 
 
 Said the fourth little chicken 
 With a small sigh of grief, 
 
 " I wish I could find 
 A green little leaf ! " 
 
 Said the fifth little chicken 
 With a faint little moan, 
 
 " O, I wish I could find 
 A wee gravel stone." 
 
 " Now, see here," said the mother, 
 From the green garden patch, 
 
 " If you want any breakfast, 
 You just come and scratch ! " 
 
 HE PAYS LICENSE ON A DOG. 
 
 I LIKE to ask you if dere vhas some license to keep a dog ? " 
 inquired Mr. Dunder as he carefully tip-toed into the pres- 
 ence of Sergt. Bendall yesterday. 
 " Yes, sir. there is." 
 " Who gets him ? " 
 
 " You have to go up stairs to the office of the City Clerk." 
 " Doan' somepody come to me after him ? " 
 " No, sir." 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 127 
 
 "Vhell, dot vhas curious. Last week Shake goes oudt mit Mt. 
 Glemens to see his aunt, und he prings home a dog. Me keep him 
 tied oop mit der pack yard, und he vhas home only one day when 
 a man walks into my blace und says vhas I Carl Dunder ? I vhas. 
 All right. He like to got that license money on Shake's dog. Uer 
 regular price vhas one dollar, but he make it seex shillings pecause 
 it vhas hardt times." 
 
 "And you paid ? " 
 
 " Vhell, I doan' like to haf dot dog kildt, you see ? Eaferybody 
 says he vhas sooch a dog ash shmells some tiger or lion two miles 
 avhay. Next day a stranger comes in mit a shmall pook in his hand 
 und a pencil oafer his ear. Vhas I Carl Dunder ? I vhas. All 
 right. He like to got dot license on Shake's dog. If I paid him 
 to somepody else dot vhas nothings mit him. He vhas a frendt to 
 Shake, howefer, und he make it feefty cents." 
 
 "And you paid that ? " 
 
 " Vhell, Sergeant, dot vhas a good dog. If some burglars vhas 
 a mile avhay he howls und wakes us oop und saves us two tousand 
 dollar. Dis morning a stranger comes in. He haf some badge on. 
 Vhas I Carl Dunder ? I vhas. All right. He like to got dot 
 license on Shake's dog. If I pay somepody else I vhas a fool. 
 Nopody can collect dot license onless he haf dot badge on. Being 
 ash I vhas shwindled he make it twenty-five cents." 
 
 "And you were fool enough to pay ? " 
 
 " Vhell, Sergeant, I pays taxes in two wards, und I vhas head- 
 i quarters for campaign clubs. Dot dog vhas great on coons und 
 s elephants. Vhas it some shwindle on me ? " 
 
 " Certainly it was ! You ought to be sent to an asylum ! " 
 
 " Sergeant, look at my eye, und doan' you forget him ! I vhas 
 .going home. Somepody vhill come in. Vhas I Carl Dunder? I 
 whas. All right. Sergeant, I shall shump on dot person like a 
 sparrow on an elephant. I vhill preak him in two und drag him 
 aroundt und bang his headt mit dem floor until der Coroner finds 
 only one ear und a shirt-button to hold an inquest on ! Good pye ! 
 After I vhas in shail come und see me sometimes, for I vhas an 
 honest man who haf to defend my family." 
 
EL OCUTIONAR 1 * S TUD1ES. 
 GIVE ME BACK MY BOY. 
 
 Jasper Garnet. 
 
 HE was handsome, kind and gentle, 
 And his eyes were dark and large, 
 And his infant years were lovely, 
 
 When God gave him to my charge, 
 And in his riper boyhood, 
 
 He spurned the mean and low ; 
 His eyes would droop in sadness 
 
 At the tale of other's woe. 
 To me, he was perfection, 
 
 And of my heart the joy ! 
 Oh, Dean of Cards and Billiards, 
 
 I ask you for my boy ! 
 
 His gentle arm would clasp me, 
 
 When a sorrow wrung my heart ; 
 In the slightest grief of Mother 
 
 He would always share the part. 
 If my path was sad and lonely 
 
 He was ever by my side, — 
 And I kneeling dared the future, 
 
 With such a stay and guide. 
 Of early youth the blossom, — 
 
 Was grace without alloy ! 
 Oh, Haunt of Rum and Ruin, 
 
 Give back, give back, my boy ! 
 
 The witching ways of Fashion 
 Were spread before his view, 
 
 And bade his gentle spirit 
 Those doubtful ways pursue. 
 
 Oh, wicked world that tempted 
 His heart from mother's love. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. J29 
 
 Send back, send back, your victim ! 
 
 Nor dare his ruin prove ! 
 I can mend his broken spirit, 
 
 Can cleanse his dark alloy — 
 I better know his merit — 
 
 God — give me back my boy ! 
 
 PLIGHTED. A. D. 1887. 
 
 Alice Williams Brother ton. 
 
 "Two souls with but a single thought. 
 Two hearts that beat as one." 
 NELLIE loquitur, 
 
 BLESS my heart ! You're come at last. 
 Awful glad to see you, clear ! 
 Thought you'd died or something, Belle — 
 
 Such an age since you've been here ! 
 My engagement ? Gracious ! Yes. 
 
 Rumor's hit the mark this time. 
 And the victim ? Charley Gray, 
 
 Know him, don't you ? Well, he's prime. 
 Such mastachios ! Splendid style ! 
 
 Then he's not so hoirid fast — 
 Waltzes like a seraph, too, 
 
 Has some fortune — best and last. 
 Love him ? Nonsense. Don't be " soft." 
 
 Pretty much as love now goes ; 
 He's devoted, and in time 
 
 I'll get used to him, I s'pose. 
 First love ? Humbug. Don't talk stuff. 
 
 Bella Brown, don't be a fool ! 
 Next you'll rave of flames and darts 
 
 Like a chit at boarding-school. 
 Don't be " miffed," I talked just so 
 
 Some two years back. Fact, my dear ! 
 
ISO ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 But two seasons kill romance, 
 
 Leave one's views of life quite clear. 
 Why, if Will Latrobe had asked 
 
 When lie left, two years ago, 
 I'd have thrown up all and gone 
 
 Out to Kansas, do you know ? 
 Fancy me a settler's wife ! 
 
 Blest escape, dear, was it not ? 
 Yes, its hardly in my line 
 
 To enact " Love in a Cot." 
 Well, you see, I'd had my swing, 
 
 Been engaged to eight or ten ; 
 Got to stop some time of course, 
 
 So it don't much matter when. 
 Auntie hates old maids, and thinks 
 
 Every girl should marry young — 
 On that theme my whole life long 
 
 I have heard the changes rung I 
 So, ma belle, what could I do ? 
 
 Charley wants a stylish wife, 
 We'll suit well enough, no fear, 
 
 When we settle down for life. 
 But for love — stuff! See my ring ? 
 
 Lovely, isn't it ? Solitaire. 
 Nearly made Maude Hinton turn 
 
 Green , with envy and despair, 
 Hers aint half so nice, you see — 
 
 Did I write you, Belle, about 
 How she tried for Charley, till 
 
 I sailed in and cut her out ? 
 Now she's taken Jack McBride, 
 
 I believe it's all from pique — 
 Threw him over once you know,— 
 
 Hates me so she'll scarcely speak. 
 O yes ! Grace church, and all that, 
 
 Pa won't mind expense at last, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 131 
 
 I'll be off his hands for good ; 
 
 Cost a fortune two years past. 
 My trousseau shall outdo Maude's, 
 
 I've carte bla,7iche from Pa, you know ; 
 Mean to have my dress from Worth ! 
 
 Won't she just be raving though ? 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE BONNET ROUGE. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 XX 
 
 lURING the last days of May, 1793, one of the Parisian regi- 
 VJ merits, thrown into 'Brittany by Santerre, feconnoitered the 
 dreaded wood of La Saudraie in Astille. There were not more 
 than three hundred men, for the battalion had been well nigh swept 
 off by this war. 
 
 The forest of La Saudraie was tragic. The list of murders that 
 had been committed there was enough to make one's hair stand on 
 end. There was no place more to be dreaded. The soldiers moved 
 cautiously forward. The depths were full of flowers ; on each side 
 was a trembling wall of branches and dew-wet leaves. Here and 
 there rays of sunlight pierced the green shadows. The soldiers 
 advanced in silence, step by step, pushing the brushwood softly 
 aside. The birds twittered above the bayonets. 
 
 Thirty grenadiers, detached as scouts, and commanded by a 
 sergeant, marched at a considerable distance in front. The vivan- 
 diere accompanied them. Suddenly the soldiers of the party started 
 like hunters who have neared the hiding-place of their prey. They 
 had heard something like breathing from the centre of the thicket. 
 In less than a minute the place was surrounded. The soldiers 
 waited for their sergeant's order. When he was about to cry, 
 " Fire," the vivandiere cried, " Halt, don't fire comrades." She 
 plunged into the thicket ; the men followed. There was, in truth, 
 some one there. 
 
%& ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 In the thickest brake was a kind of a chamber of foliage ; a 
 woman was seated on the moss, holding to her breast a babe, while 
 the fair heads of two sleeping children rested on her knees. 
 
 " What are you doing here, you ? " cried the vivandiere. "Are 
 you mad — a little more and you would have been blown to pieces.'' 
 To the soldiers, " It is a woman." " Well, that is plain to be seen," 
 said a grenadier. The woman stunned, petrified with fear, looked 
 about like one in a dream. She was dumb with terror. " Do not 
 be afraid ; we are the battalion of the Bonnet Rouge. Who are 
 you, madam ? " said the sergeant. 
 
 The woman scanned him terrified. She was slender, young, pale 
 and in rags. Her feet, shoeless and stockingless, were bleeding. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 " Michelle Flechard." 
 
 " Have you a home ? " 
 
 " I had one." 
 
 " Why are you not in it ? " 
 
 " Because they burnt it." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 V I do not know, a battle." 
 
 " What party do you belong to ?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Are you Blues or Whites ? Who are you with ? n 
 
 " I am with my children." 
 
 " What are they called ? " 
 
 " Georgette, Rene and Alain." 
 
 "And your husband— what has become of him ? " 
 
 " They killed him in the hedge, three days ago." 
 \ " Who, was it a Blue or was it a White ? " 
 
 " It was a bullet." 
 
 " What have you been doing since ? " 
 
 " I bear away my children." 
 
 " Where do you sleep ? " 
 
 " On the ground." 
 
 " What do you eat ? " 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 133 
 
 The soldiers made a circle around this group of misery. A widow, 
 three orphans, flight, abandonment, solitude, war muttering around 
 the horizon, hunger, thirst, no other nourishment than the herbs ol 
 the field, no other roof than that of heaven. 
 
 The sergeant raised his head and they saw tears trickle down his 
 face. " Comrades, from all this I conclude the regiment is to be- 
 come a father. Is it agreed ? " 
 
 " Hurrah," chorused the grenadiers. 
 
 " Then it is decided. Behold the children of the Bonnet Rouge ! " 
 
 Some days later this gallant band of Blues was attacked by an 
 army of seven thousand Whites, under the command of the Marquis 
 of Lantenae, and every soldier to a man was sacrificed, even the 
 vivandieres shared the same fate. Michelle Flechard was not killed 
 outright, but she had a wound in her shoulder-blade — one in her 
 breast — a ball had broken her collar-bone. A peasant found her, 
 and nursed her back to life. Her first thought was for her babes. 
 " My children. Where are they ? When can I go away from here ? 
 You understand I cannot rest like this. You never had any children, 
 had you ? And I — I had nothing beside them. What am I with- 
 out my children ? I am going to look for them. Where are they ? 
 La Tourgue." 
 
 The dauntless mother's heart knew no distance. She walked day 
 and night, she begged, she ate herbs, she lay on the ground under 
 the stars, sometimes in wind and rain. She wandered from farm to 
 farm, from village to village. She stopped on the threshold of 
 peasants' cots. Shoeless, stockingless, she pressed on with bleeding 
 feet. She crossed the tracks of war, among gunshots, hearing 
 nothing, seeing nothing — seeking her children. 
 
 The little ones had been carried by order of Lantenae to the 
 famous fortress of the Middle Ages, La Tourgue. It was almost 
 impregnable. A lofty tower of six stories, pierced here and there 
 with loop holes, having for entrance and egress a single door of iron. 
 Behind the tower a forest. Beneath, a deep, narrow ravine full of 
 brushwood. This is the Tower of La Tourgue, and in its top-most 
 room are the children of Michelle Flechard. Beneath in the lowest 
 room are all the men left to the Marquis — they number nineteen. 
 
i 3 4 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 They are besieged. A price is put upon the head of Lantenae. 
 The cry of " No mercy — no quarter " is heard without from the 
 iips of the Blues. The Whites within echo the cry, with defiance. 
 Nineteen men — three children are in the jaws of death. Such an 
 attack, such consequences cannot be told. It is a day of blood. 
 Nineteen against four thousand. The Marquis alone escapes. He 
 makes his way through the secret door, but he is not far distant, 
 only on the edge of the forest, hidden among the brambles. 
 
 He hears a terrible cry over his head. He raises his eyes. He 
 does not move. 
 
 The cry comes from Michelle, she whom we left seeking her chil- 
 dren. She had walked for many days. Had there been anyone 
 near he might have heard her ceaselessly murmur, " La Tourgue." 
 Except the names of the children this word was all she knew. Sud- 
 denly as she is journeying onward, a lofty tower starts up on the 
 extreme edge of the horizon. She walks on toward it. She is 
 more than a league away, but she walks on. She sees the massive 
 pile grow slowly. A great blackness shuts out every object. A 
 cloud of smoke sweeps between her and the pile she is watching. 
 She closes her eyes and has scarcely done so when a great light red- 
 dens her eyelids. She watches the beginning of a conflagration. 
 From black the smoke becomes scarlet, filled with a mighty flame 
 which appears and disappears, writhing and twisting in serpentine 
 coils. A wind sweeps up and bursts the curtain of smoke. The 
 appalling illumination shows her every detail of the ancient keep. 
 She utters a cry — she sees her children. It is this that reaches the 
 ears of the Marquis of Lantenae. Looking up from the edge of 
 the plateau he sees the haggard, anguish -stricken face ot the woman. 
 She is appalling in her agony. She moans like a wild beast. Her 
 eyes shoot lightning through her tears. Her voice flings its echoes 
 down upon his head. 
 
 "Ah my God, my children ! Those are my children. Help ! 
 Fire, fire, fire ! Oh you brigands ! My children are burning up ! 
 Help ! help ! " 
 
 The whole camp rush out What is to be done ! Only a few 
 buckets of water can be drained from the half-dried brook in the 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 135 
 
 ravine. The consternation increases. What they see is terrible. 
 They gaze and can do nothing. The mother is still shrieking. 
 
 " Fire ! I say fire ! They are burning up my children. Oh, the 
 days and days I have hunted them, and this is where I find them. 
 They shot me. They are burning my little ones. Help ! help ! 
 Have pity on me. I must have my children. God of mercy, give 
 me my children." 
 * Voices rise. One calls for a ladder. 
 
 " There is no ladder." 
 
 " Water." 
 
 "There is no water." 
 
 " Up yonder — in the tower — in the second story, there is a door." 
 
 " It is iron." 
 
 " Break it in." 
 
 " Impossible." 
 
 In the interval between the clamors the triumphant crackling of 
 the flames is heard. The Marquis hears all. He puts his hand to 
 his pocket ; the key to the iron door is there. To turn back is 
 captivity — death — he is a soldier, he is a man. 
 
 He stoops beneath the vault through which he escaped and turns 
 back. He holds a large key in his hand ; he casts a haughty glance 
 at the sappers and walks straight to the iron door. He puts the key 
 in the lock — the iron creaks — the door opens and reveals a gulf of 
 flame. The Marquis enters with firm step and head erect. The 
 men stand petrified with astonishment. It is indeed the Lantenae. 
 The conflagration has not yet entered the room where the children 
 are. They are pleased with the light. " Pretty," says Georgette — 
 " Me warm." 
 
 " I am too warm. It burns," says Rene. Then he sees his 
 mother. " Come here, mamma." " Turn m'ma," repeats Georgette. 
 
 " Mercy, mercy," cries the mother. They can hear the little ones' 
 voices, " Mamma, mamma " Suddenly at the casement near that 
 where the children stand, a tall form appears against a crimson back- 
 ground of the flames. Every head is raised ; every eye is fixed. A 
 man is in the library — in the furnace. The face shows black against 
 the flames. They can see the white hair of the Marquis. The 
 
136 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 indomitable old man stands at the window, and is shoving out an 
 enormous ladder. He holds it by one end and with the marvelous 
 agility of an athlete he slips out of the casement, and slides along 
 the wall toward the ravine. The ladder settles in place. Twenty 
 men rush up, the Marquis disappears and reappears bearing a child 
 in his arms, it is Gros Alain. " I am afraid," the little one cries. 
 He is passed from one soldier to another. Next Rene Jean. The 
 Marquis goes back into the chamber now filled with flames. Georg- 
 ette is alone. 
 
 ' He goes to her. She smiles and the man of granite feels his eye- 
 lids moisten. " What is your name?" " Orgette " says she. He 
 takes her in his arms and she in turn descends from man to man 
 until the ground is reached. 
 
 The mother is mad, intoxicated by the change ; flung without 
 transition from hell to paradise, she covers her babes with frantic 
 kisses, bursts into a wild laugh and faints. 
 
 The soldiers are exultant, they clap, their hands, they leap. The 
 old grenadiers sob, and the Marquis of Lantenae from the grim 
 warrior, calm and haughty, is transfigured into an angel of mercy. 
 
 THE STONE-CUTTER. 
 
 Elizabeth Akers. 
 
 Perhaps the best-known poem of this author is " Rock Me to Sleep, Mother." 
 
 T 
 
 k HERE dwelt in far Japan, 
 Long ages since, a man 
 Who earned, by hammering stone, his daily food — 
 But discontent and dole 
 Lay heavy on his soul, 
 Which craved great riches as the only good. 
 
 And so the gods on high, 
 Who sometirnes bitterly 
 Punish a man by granting all his prayers, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 137 
 
 Gave him a mine of gold, 
 And lands to have and hold, 
 And, by and by, breed feuds among his heirs. 
 
 But soon he, murmuring, 
 
 Desired to be a king ; 
 To reign and rule — ah, that were perfect bliss! 
 
 He wearied earth and air 
 
 With his incessant prayer 
 Until the gods indulged him, even in this. 
 
 His courtiers fawned and lied, 
 
 And rival powers, outside 
 His realm, assailed his peace with fierce debate, 
 
 And heaviness and care 
 
 Bleached gray his youthful hair, 
 And made him weary of his regal state. 
 
 " Oh, change me to a rock ! " 
 
 He cried, " that no rude shock 
 Can stir, nor any strife disturb or shake ! " 
 
 And lo ! he stood, ere long, 
 
 A boulder, fixed and strong, 
 Which torrents could not move, nor tempests break. 
 
 In vain the burning heat 
 
 Of fiercest sunshine beat 
 Upon his head ; in vain the storm-wind smote 
 
 His rugged sides ; in vain 
 
 Great rivers, swoln by rain, 
 Came roaring from their mountain caves remote. 
 
 He was at rest ; and he 
 
 Rejoiced exceedingly, 
 Saying, " No more for me, oh, sweet release ! 
 
 Will there be change and woe, 
 
 And wavering to and fro — 
 Since I am fixed in an eternal peace ! " 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 But on a summer day 
 
 A workman brought that way 
 
 A hammer and a chisel — these alone. 
 
 He measured here and there, 
 And then, with patient care, 
 
 Began to cut away the stubborn stone. 
 
 "Ah ! " said the boulder-king, 
 
 " What means this wondrous thing ? 
 
 This plodding workman smites and conquers me S 
 He cuts, as suits him best, 
 Huge blocks from out my breast — 
 
 He is more strong than I ! Would I were he ! " 
 
 And lo, the powers aloft, 
 
 Who had so long and oft 
 Laughed at his follies, craved and then outgrown, 
 
 Again his pleading heard ; 
 
 He, taken at his word, 
 Became once more a hammerer of stone ! 
 
 So, wiser than before 
 And asking nothing more, 
 
 Again about his olden toil he went ; 
 Until he died from age 
 He toiled for scanty wage, 
 
 Nor ever spake a word of discontent ! 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 
 
 Hudson Tuttle. 
 
 IN the hour of peril Liberty called for defenders. She said to the 
 mother, give me your son, the pride of your heart, the solace 
 of your declining years. She said to the wife, give me your husband, 
 honored and loved of your soul. She said to the maiden, give me 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 139 
 
 iyour lover, on whom all your hope of future joy depends. The 
 'mother, the wife, and the maiden, bowed to the demand, and with 
 breaking hearts, through tears of agony saw their loved ones depart 
 into the sulphur-clouds, which, ominous as the black pall of a cyclone, 
 darkened the horizon and rolled in thundergust to the zenith. 
 
 The years passed heavily, but we knew they were there somewhere 
 between us and the foe, for the thunders never slackened, the light- 
 nings never ceased, and the hoarse murmur of the conflict came 
 upon the Southern gale. There were reports of great battles lost, 
 and the pitying heavens looked down on thousands and ten thou- 
 sands of the slain. Battles lost, but we lost no hope or courage. The 
 soldiers in the field, beaten back, retreating, were not conquered. 
 ,We heard of battles won, and from rocky Maine to the Golden Gate 
 the cannon boomed the glad tidings, and strong men grasped each 
 others' hands, not ashamed of the tremor of voice and moistened 
 eye. The sky darkened. The enemy in the field, treason at home, 
 the sympathy of foreign nations, incapacity of commanding officers, 
 land mistakes and blunders far worse than crimes, disheartened the 
 lover of his country. Yet the divine purpose expressed itself 
 superior to human design, and wrote a shining page of civilization's 
 Jhistofy. The soldier marches in the van of human progress, and 
 his sword makes possible the plowing of harvest fields. 
 
 THE SENATOR'S GRANDMOTHER. 
 
 Patience Stapleton. 
 
 Author of "The Major's Christmas" and "Jean McClure." 
 
 "TV LI EVE I met ye on the keers. Jones yer name ? 
 
 LJ S"prised ye knowed me; I don't feel quite the same 
 In city toggery. Yer wonder why I came 
 Here from Texas, travelin' night an' day ? 
 Look there, the old lady glarncin' this way. 
 
 " She's wavin' her umbrel, big smile on her face ; 
 Guess she's some set back, seein' me in this place. 
 
i 4 o ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Eyes bright, cheeks pink, mighty little trace 
 
 She bears of ninety years. Don't she set up straight ? 
 
 'Fraid she'll spile that silk gown, I calkerlate. 
 
 " While vvaitin' fur the Senator, down there 
 
 Ter make his speech — him with the yaller hair — 
 
 He's from my town ; if the bosses don't care 
 
 If I talk in this Senate chamber, I'd tell 
 
 Ye their hist'ry. Ye'd like ter hear it right well ? 
 
 " Ye've seen the Rockies; them quiet peaks where snow 
 Dies year 'round — all hid in misty blue an' b'low 
 The foothills brown. Grand as most mount'ins go ! 
 Them gold-hearted mount'ins weepin' silver tears 
 Like a magnet draws steel, drew us old pioneers. 
 
 " Though I was a '49er, once again 
 I set out, jined a long emigrant train 
 Bound fur Colorado — 'way across the plain. 
 She wa' with 'em ; our teams fell some behind 
 She drivin' her oxen, mandike but more kind, 
 
 " She told me, secretdike, she'd come out West 
 Ter find her son. My 'pinion wan't the best 
 Of sich as him, but this I never confessed. 
 She'd ask about my life ; sayin' sorter sad : 
 ' Did ye see my Phil ? ' I used ter wish I had. 
 
 " But the world is wide. I knowed it couldn't be, 
 Still I talked of Cal'forny, till it wore on me 
 Drorin' u.ind pictures of all the men I see, 
 She'd shake her head, her eyes with tears 'ud fill — 
 ' Pears like none of 'em makes me see my Phil.' 
 
 "The sun was fiery red; the sand burnt our feet; 
 Men an' animals alike dropped dead from the heat 
 She nursed all the sick, motherdike and sweet. 
 Nights in that barren land, when I was alone 
 She'd come ter my tent ter talk ter me of home, 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 141 
 
 ** Picturin' the old house, the lilacs by the door. 
 The graves in the medder she'd see nevermore — 
 Though she kep' up brave, I see her heart was sore. 
 Patient she searched in many a mining cam;) 
 Then she come ter me, worn with her weary tramp. 
 
 " The one woman in the camp, she didn't care ; 
 Prim an' old-fashioned, as ye see her there. 
 Kind an' helpful — the sort o' goods that wear. 
 Singhv hymns o' Sundays, in a low, sweet voice — 
 ' I Would Not Live Alway,' that was her choice. 
 
 " There was up the mount'in an old pioneer tough. 
 Grizzly Bill, the scout. Grizzly he were enough, 
 With his bloodshot eyes and long, gray beard rough. 
 He'd come down the mount'in, Sunday afternoons, 
 Ridin' like a devil, jest ter hear them toons. 
 
 "Jack Bean was his pard; one Sunday he wan't found, 
 
 An' we calkerlated had been shoved under ground, 
 
 'Count o' Bill's wantin' ter be the boss around. 
 
 Bill wan't popular ; the end ye kin see ; 
 
 We thort he'd improve at some hight on a tree. 
 
 " We kep' it still an' come on him by s'prise ; 
 Like all sich villains he told a mess o' lies. 
 He silenced, though, when he see death in our eyes. 
 ' I Would Not Live Alway,' her favorite lines, 
 Follered us lynchers up under the pines. 
 
 " Bill coughed, husky-like, ' Boys, one last thing: 
 'Take me back ter camp, jest ter hear her sing — 
 Ever through eternity them words will ring.' 
 We was mussiful an' took him nigh her hut, 
 Him bein' bound so he couldn't poss'bly cut. 
 
 " ' I Would Not Live Alway,' she quavered. Then 
 With a great convulsion he bust from the men, 
 Breakin' stout ropes as if paper they'd been. 
 
i42 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 He rushed in the hut, then we heerd a cry — 
 Wakin' or sleepin', I'll hear till I die. 
 
 " Grizzly Bill, Bearded Terror of the West, 
 Knelt in that hut, his head on his mother's breast. 
 It calmed us, somehow. Yer won't believe the rest. 
 But in a back room, layin' on a bunk, 
 Was Jack Bean, the missin', sleepin' off a drunk. 
 
 " He fell by her door ; she, with kindly care, 
 Helped him ter her house, out of the night air. 
 I kinder think that Providence sent us there. 
 Bill made a strike soon, then he quit the life, 
 Went ter Texas, where he'd a child and wife. 
 
 " That there's Bill. Purty stout, with beard of snow, 
 Rich, fine-lookin' man, as pioneers go. 
 That's his wife on the left; the son ye know — 
 There he gets up, the light haired man, ye see, 
 Young fur Senator, but smart as he can be. 
 
 " His grandmother; how proud she sets, an' still; 
 I'll bet she furgets an' thinks 'tis ' little Phil,' 
 The lad she lost, not the worn, grizzly Bill. 
 Wal, its wuth my trip, hearin' him do so well ; 
 Senate ain't fur from White House, I've hearn tell." 
 
 THE BONNY WEE HOOSE. 
 
 William Lyle. 
 
 It is a good exercise for pupils to translate a selection in dialect, like this, into 
 English. Nearly all the Scotch words here given are found in Webster's Dictionary. 
 
 N 
 
 AE palace hae I wi' gilded ha's, 
 
 Nae shinin' an' picture-panelled wa's. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 143 
 
 Gran' marble pillars, an' sculptures rare — 
 That some folks pride in — ye'll no' find there ; 
 An' yet there's a sweetness a' its ain, 
 In that wee hoose wi' the threshold plain — 
 The bonny wee hoose whilk nae ane sees — 
 The dear auld biggin aneath the trees. 
 
 Noo stay, let me tell ye a' whas there — 
 There's love, there's content, a canny pair, 
 An' twa braw bairnies, guid soncy chiels, 
 Wha ne'er let grasses grow at their heels, 
 An' syne, there's the mither — bless her name 
 Her presence aye mak's the hoose a hame — 
 That bonny wee hoose, whilk nae ane sees 
 Hidin' itseP neath the chestnut trees. 
 
 I sometimes gang oot the warl' tae see, 
 But little grows there that pleases me. 
 There's plenty o' noise, an' senseless strife, 
 But no muckle love — the spice o' life. 
 Like a hounded hare on some strange track, 
 I think on my hame, an' sune rin back 
 Tae that wee hoosie, whilk nae ane sees — 
 Simple an' silent under the trees. 
 
 Thank God for the hoose, an' a' that's there — 
 The kindly smile, an' the honest prayer, 
 An' when we seek that far awa' Ian', 
 Whaur mansions wait us ho made wi' han', 
 We'll leave warm blessin's mixed wi' oor tears 
 Whaur we've been sae happy a' oor years — - 
 On that wee hoosie, whilk nae ane sees — 
 Sittin' sae modest under the trees. 
 
t44 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 DECORATION DAY. 
 
 Dr E. P. Thwing. 
 
 The following tribute was paid the speaker by a morning paper: "The de- 
 livery was the impersomfication of eloquence bubbling up from a true patriot's 
 heart — clear and sparkling as the waters of a running brook, and as harmoniously 
 ringing as chimes to a marriage feast." 
 
 ' PHE tender and beautiful floral service of this Memorial Day is 
 I completed. We have marched with muffled drum and plain- 
 live music to the graves of our dead soldiers and strown them with 
 rose and lily, with violet and evergreen. The westering sun lin- 
 gered lovingly on these purple mountains that stand like sentinels 
 to guard the dust of the brave who have bled in defence of our 
 land and our liberties. We are now gathered, as the evening lamps 
 are lighted, to repeat in song and story those deeds of the departed 
 which have enshrined their names in our grateful memory, and to 
 deepen those noble, patriotic impulses, which were the source and 
 inspiration of their heroic lives. 
 
 " Wave the flag once more before my eyes ! " said a dying color- 
 bearer as he found himself sinking into the last sleep. " The dear 
 old flag never touched the ground," said another soldier sinking on 
 the ramparts of Wagner. To them the starry folds of the bunting 
 they bore were an emblem of an undivided country, a symbol of 
 glory and honor dearer to them than life itself. Such is the. inspir- 
 ing influence of intelligent, heroic loyalty. It is far nobler than 
 mere physical hardihood, purer than the selfish sentiment of personal 
 friendship, and therefore a more enduring and transforming power. 
 Keep, then, the flag of the nation waving before our eyes ; in other 
 words, make conspicuous the principles of which it is the embla- 
 zonry, fealty to truth, to honor, to liberty and law. Let partisan 
 zeal and mere personal aggrandizement be forgotten in the pursuit 
 of the highest aims. Let the spirit of Abraham Lincoln be ours, 
 who, in 1858 — standing at Alton, where Lovejoy had fallen a 
 martyr to freedom — said, "Think nothing of me ; take no thought 
 for the political fate of any man whatsoever, but come back to the 
 truths that are in the Declaration of Independence. You may do 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 145 
 
 anything with me you choose, if you will but heed these sacred prin- 
 i fciples. You may not only defeat me for the Senate, but you may 
 take me ami put me to death! I am nothing. Judge Douglas is 
 nothing ; but do not destroy that immortal emblem of humanity — 
 the Declaration of Independence." 
 
 It is with prophetic ken, when at Philadelphia, he reasserts his fealty 
 to this same supreme law : " If this country cannot be saved with- 
 out giving up that principle, I was about to say I would be assassi- 
 nated on the spot/" Then he repeated again his calm, serious, 
 intelligent consecration to the cause of Liberty and Union in these 
 closing words : " I have said nothing but what I am willing to live 
 by, and, if it be the pleasure of the Almighty God, to die by /" 
 
 That was heroism, lofty, sublime, god-like heroism. It was 
 grander far than the heroism of the battle-field, where mere brutal 
 courage plays an important part ; where revenge sometimes is fired 
 by pain and sight of blood ; where there is the wild enthusiasm of 
 numbers massed under the lead of magnetic, men ; wheie thee are 
 thrilling battle-songs poured forth from bearded lips, joined with 
 clang of cymbals, blare of trumpets, beat of drum ; and where, 
 amid booming cannon, ringing sabre and rattling shell, the soldier 
 forgets fatigue, pain, even life itself in the delirium of the hour. 
 This defiance of death is heroic ; this valor, audacity, and gallantry, 
 worthy of praise ; but it ranks lower than this serene quietude of 
 soul that is born of humble, holy faith, which sustains one without 
 these added supports. 
 
 Our hero dead are lying in a thousand burial places from Maine 
 to Louisiana. Peace reigns. But is there not still an unended con- 
 test of ideas ? Are not the great tutelar forces of a Christian civil- 
 ization in earnest conflict with hostile influences ? Have we been 
 wholly victorious over partisan hatred, the prejudice of caste, of 
 color and of clan ? Can any party show a wholly clean record ? 
 its leaders a purely disinterested and patriotic purpose ? Are there 
 no ominous tendencies at work in the rapid growth of our material 
 wealth and in the importation of alien and destruclive elements ? 
 
 We have scattered our floral tributes to-day over the graves of 
 the patriotic dead. These frail mementoes of affection will soon 
 
1 46 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 wither, but let not the memory of these martyrs fail to inspire in us 
 a purer, holier life ! The roll-call brings to mind their faces and 
 their deeds. They were faithful to the end. The weary march, the 
 bivouac, the battle, are still remembered by the survivors. But your 
 line, comrades, is growing slenderer every year. One by one you 
 will drop out of the ranks, and other hands may ere long strew your 
 grave with flowers as you have done to-day in yonder cemetery. 
 When mustered in the last grand review, with all the veterans and 
 heroes of earth, may each receive with jubilant heart the great 
 Commander's admiring tribute " Well done ! " and become with 
 Him partaker of a felicity that is enduring and triumphant ! 
 
 THE MUSIC OF NATURE. 
 
 Mary Frost Ormsby. 
 
 NOT alone in Grand Cathedrals, not alone in Concert Hall 
 Do we hear the sweetest music, answering every Spirit's call; 
 But in God's own living temple, 'long the corridors of time, 
 Do we hear the sweetest music, most enchanting, most sublime. 
 
 Sit with me by peaceful river, or walk by mountain, glen or rill, 
 Listen to the little songsters warbling songs each soul shall fill; 
 There the diapason's perfect ; ringing out melodious song, 
 There we would repose in quiet, away from earth's tumultuous throng. 
 
 Or, watch the ocean when, at sunset, tinted with its rainbow hue. 
 You're charmed with its majestic beauty, then listen to its .nusic too ; 
 We'll lift our souls in prayerful spirit, hear music in its tumultuous roar, 
 See " Emblem " of the life eternal, the perfect music evermore. 
 
 Yes! Nature forms one perfect chorus, one anthem Heavenly and 
 
 sublime, 
 May none e'er prove a note discordant, in this vast harmony divine 
 'Till our souls are filled with music and each feels its healing power, 
 And round each stone and hearth-stone music forever comes in mystic 
 
 shower. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. :47 
 
 COUPON BONDS. (Abridged and arranged.) 
 
 1. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 From "Coupon Bonds and other Stories," by special permission. 
 
 To bring this sketch within the limits desired, it has been found necessary to 
 omit some of the characters and not follow out the whole story. Read the 
 descriptive parts with your own tone and expression of face. Idealize the charac- 
 ters and invest each one with a marked individuality. Be careful to keep these 
 peculiarities clear, and you have an inimitably good reading. 
 
 ON a certain mild March evening, A.D. 1864, the Ducklow kitchen 
 had a general air of waiting for somebody. Mrs. Uucklow sat 
 knitting by the light of a kerosene lamp, the side-table was set with 
 ia single plate, knife and fork, and cup and saucer, indicating that 
 the person waited for was expected to partake of some refreshments. 
 
 Behind the stairway was a small boy, who exclaimed rather than 
 inquired : 
 
 " He'll want me to hold the lantern for him to take care of the 
 hoss." 
 
 " No, no, Taddy, you'll only be in the way if you set up." 
 
 " Say, ma, do ye think he'll bring me home a drum ? " 
 
 " You'll know in the morning." 
 
 " I want to know to-night. He said mabby he would. Say, 
 can't I set up ? " 
 
 " I'll let ye know whether you can set up, after you've been told 
 so many times ! " 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Ducklow rose from her chair, laid down her 
 
 I knitting-work and started for the stairway door with great energy 
 
 and a rattan. But Taddy, who perceived retribution approaching, 
 
 did not see fit to wait for it. He darted up the stairs and crept into 
 
 I his bunk with the lightness and agility of a squirrel. 
 
 " I'm a-bed ! Say, ma, I'm a-bed ! " he cried, eager to save the 
 1 excellent lady the trouble of ascending the stairs. " I'm 'most 
 asleep a'readv ! " 
 
 " It's a good thing for you you be ! " said Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 Presently the sound of wheels coming into the yard told her that 
 the person so long waited for had arrived. 
 ■ 
 
ill 
 
 ht 
 
 148 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " That you ? " said she, opening the kitchen door and looking out 
 into the darkness. 
 
 "Yes," replied a man's voice. 
 
 "Ye want the lantern ? " 
 
 " No ; jest set the lamp in the winder, and I guess I can git alon 
 Whoa! " And the man jumped to the ground. |en 
 
 " Had good luck ? " the woman inquired in a low voice. 
 
 " I'll tell ye when I come in," was the evasive answer. 
 
 " Has he bought me a drum ? " bawled Taddy from the chamber 
 stairs. 
 
 " Do you want me to come up there and 'tend to ye ? " demanded 
 Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 The boy was not particularly ambitious of enjoying that honor. 
 
 " You be still and go to sleep, then, or you'll git drummed J" 
 
 And she latched the stairway door, greatly to the dismay of || 
 Master Taddy, who felt that some vast and momentous secret was 1 lis 
 being kept from him. Overhearing whispered conferences between I 
 his adopted parents in the morning, he had gathered a fact and II' 
 drawn an inference, namely, that a great purchase was to be made 
 by Mr. Ducklow that day in town, and that on his return he (Taddy) J 21 
 was to be surprised by the presentation of what he had long coveted 
 and teased for — a new drum. 
 
 To lie quietly in bed under such circumstances was an act that 
 required more self-control than Master Taddy possessed. Accord- 
 ingly he stole down stairs and listened, feeling sure that if the drum 
 should come in, Mrs. Ducklow, and perhaps Mr. Ducklow himself, 
 would be unable to resist the temptation of thumping it softly to try 
 its sound, and so he ventured to unlatch the stairway door, open it 
 a crack, — and peep'. 
 
 Mr. Ducklow entered, bringing a number of parcels, but no drum 
 was visible to Taddy. 
 
 " Did you buy ? " whispered Mrs. Ducklow, relieving him of his 
 load. 
 
 \Hcre is a good chance for gesture and facial expression, ,] Mr 
 Ducklow pointed mysteriously at the stair-way door, lifting his eye^ 
 brows interrogatively. 
 
EL0CUT10NAR Y STUDIES. i V J 
 
 "Taddy?" said Mrs. Ducklow, "Oh, he's abed, though I never 
 t my life had such a time to get him off; he was possessed with the 
 'ilea that you was to buy something, and he wanted to set up and 
 ee what it was. 
 
 " Strange how children will ketch things, best you can do to pre- 
 ent," said Mr. Ducklow. 
 
 " But did ye buy ? " 
 
 " Ydu better take them matches and put 'em out of the way, fust 
 hing, fore ye forgit it." 
 
 " Come," said she, after hastily disposing of the matches, 'what's 
 he use of keepin' me in suspense ? Did you buy ? " 
 
 " Where did you put the matches ? " 
 
 " In the little tin pail where we always keep 'em, of course.'' 
 
 "You needn't be cross; I asked 'cause I didn't hear ye put the 
 lover on. I don't believe ye did put the cover on either ; and 1 
 ihan't be easy until ye do." 
 
 Mrs. Ducklow returned to the pantry and her husband heard the 
 cover go on with a click. 
 
 He removed one boot and then drew gently on the other. As it 
 came off, something fell out on the floor. He picked it up and 
 landed it with a triumphant smile to Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 I" Oh, indeed ! is this the " 
 The package consisted of a large, unsealed envelope, and folded 
 papers within. 
 
 " But what made ye carry 'em in yer boot so ? " 
 
 " To tell the truth," said Mr. Ducklow, in a suppressed voice, " I 
 tvas afraid o' bein' robbed. So, jest as I got clear o' the town, I 
 :ook it out o' my pocket (meaning, not the town, but the envelope 
 containing the papers) an' tucked it down my boot-leg. Then, all 
 the way home, I was scaret when I was ridin' alone, an' still more 
 scaret when I heard anybody comin' after me. You see, it's jest 
 like so much money." 
 
 And he arranged the window curtain in a manner to prevent the 
 sharpest-eyed burglar from peeping in and catching a glimpse of the 
 papers. 
 
 He neglected to secure the stairway door, however. There, in 
 
IS© ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 a 
 
 Di 
 
 his hiding-place behind it, stood Taddy, peeping and listening in 
 fever of curiosity which nothing could chill. He had not yet fully 
 given up the idea of a new drum, although the image, which vaguely 
 shaped itself in his mind, of Mr. Ducklow " tucking it down his II 
 boot-leg," presented difficulties. 
 
 "This is the bond, you see," Mr. Ducklow explained; "and all 
 these little things that fill out the sheet are the cowpons. You have 
 only to cut off one o' these, take it to the bank when it is due, and 
 draw the interest on it in gold ! " 
 
 " But suppose you lose the bonds ? " queried Mrs. Duck'ow. 
 
 "That's what I've been thinkin' of; that's what's made me so 
 narvous. I supposed 't would be like so much railroad stock, good 
 for nothin' to nobody but the owner. But the man to the bank said 
 no, — 't only was like so much currency, and I must look out for it. 
 That's what filled all the bushes with robbers as I come along the 
 road. I don't see how we're to keep the plaguy things so we sha'n't 
 feel uneasy about 'em." 
 
 " Nor I neither ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow, turning pale. 
 " Suppose the house should take fire ! or burglars should break in ! 
 I don't wonder you was so particular about the matches ! Dear 
 me! I shall be frightened to death ! I'd no idee 't was to be such 
 dangerous property ! I shall be thinking of fires and burglars ! — 
 O-h-h-h ! " 
 
 Mr. Ducklow sprang back against the table set for his supper with 
 a force that made everything jar. Then he sprang forward again, 
 instinctively reaching to grasp and save from plunder the coupon 
 bonds. But by this time both he and his wife had become aware of 
 the nature of the intrusion. 
 
 " Thaddeus I " ejaculated the lady. " How came you here ? Get 
 up ! Give an account of yourself! " 
 
 Taddy's abrupt appearance in the room had been altogether invol- 
 untary. Leaning forward, he had pitched from the stairway into 
 the kitchen with a violence that threw the door back against the 
 wall with a bang, and laid him out, a sprawling figure in scanty ? 
 ghostly apparel, on the floor. 
 
 ;: 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 5 1 
 
 "What ye want? What ye here for ? " sternly demanded Mr. 
 Oucklow, snatching him up by one arm, and shaking him. 
 I " Don't know," faltered the luckless youngster, speaking the truth 
 or once in his life. " Fell." 
 
 "Fell! How did you come to fall ? What are you out o' bed 
 for ? " 
 
 1 " Don't know," — snivelling and rubbing his eyes. " Didn't know 
 |[ was." 
 
 " Got up without knowing it ! That's a likely story ! How 
 ;ould that happen, you, sir?" said Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 " Don't know, 'thout 't was I got up in my sleep," said Taddy, 
 
 ,vho had on rare occasions been known to indulge in moderate 
 
 somnambulism. 
 1 
 
 " In your sleep ! " said Mr. Ducklow, incredulously. 
 
 " I guess so. I was dreamin' you brought me home a new drum, 
 , — tucked down yer — boot leg," faltered Taddy. 
 
 " I dreamt you was blowin' it up, and I sprung to ketch it, when, 
 ifust I knowed, I was on the floor, like a thousan' o' brick ! 'Most 
 oroke my knee-pans ! " whimpered Taddy. " Say, didn't ye bring 
 ne home nothin '? What's them things? " 
 
 " Nothin' little boys know anything about. Now run back to 
 wed again. I forgot to buy you a drum to-day, but I'll git ye some- 
 thin 1 next time I go to town, — if I think on 't." 
 
 " Somebody's comin' ! What a lookin' object you are, to be seen 
 l by visitors ! " 
 
 'I There was a knock. Taddy disappeared. Mr. Ducklow turned 
 'anxiously to his wife, who was hastily hiding the bonds in her palpi- 
 tating bosom. 
 
 "Who can it be this time o' night ? " 
 ; " Sakes alive ! " said Mrs. Ducklow, in whose mind burglars were 
 uppermost, " I wish, whoever 't is, they'd keep away ! Go to the 
 .door," she whispered, resuming her work. 
 
 ( It was a neighbor who called upon some errand and remained 
 but a short time. 
 
 " I do wish folks would stay to home." said Mrs. Ducklow, after 
 Che visitor had gone. 
 
1 5 2 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 " You've got the bonds safe ? " said Mr. Ducklow, putting on his 
 waistcoat. 
 
 " Yes ; but I won't engage to keep 'em safe. Here, you take 
 
 >_, . jj 
 
 em. 
 
 " Don't be foolish. You don't suppose I want to lug 'em around 
 with me wherever I go, do ye ? " 
 
 " I'm sure it's no great lug. What in the world we're going to do 
 with 'em I don't see. If we go out, Ave can't take 'em with us, for 
 fear of losing 'em, or of being robbed ; and we shan't dare to leave 
 'em to home, for fear the house '11 burn up or git broke into." 
 
 " We can hide 'em where no burglar can find 'em. I guess we 
 better put 'em in the clock-case for to-night, hadn't we ? " 
 
 " Jest where they'd be discovered if the house was robbed. No 
 ['ve an idea. Slip 'em under the settin'-room carpet." 
 
 This was done and a chair set over them. 
 
 " What noise was that ? " said the farmer, starting. " Thaddeus," 
 cried Mrs. Ducklow, " is that you ? " It was Thaddeus, indeed, 
 who, awaked from a real dream of the drum this time, had sto've 
 cautiously upon the scene. What were the old people hiding under 
 the carpet ? It must Le those curious things in the envelope. What 
 were they anyway ? 
 
 Taddy was peeping and considering when he heard his name 
 called. He would have glided back to bed, but Mrs. Ducklow was 
 too quick for him. " What do you want now ? " she demanded. 
 
 " I-I want you to scratch my back," said Taddy. 
 
 She had often complied with a similar request, but was now in n'< 
 mood to be trifled with. ' 
 
 " I'll scratch your back for ye ! " And seizing her rattan, she lai< 
 on a few sound blows. " There, that's a scratching that '11 last y< 
 for one while." 
 
 Taddy went back to bed, cried himself to sleep and dreamed th;i 
 he was himself a drum, and that Mrs. Ducklow beat him. 
 
 In the middle of the night Mrs. Ducklow exclaimed : " What' 
 the reason you can't sleep ? " 
 
 " I think — I'm pretty sure — hark ! I heard something: soundec 
 like somebody gettin' into the kitchen winder ! " 
 
ELOCUTJONAR Y STUDIES. 1 53 
 
 " It's your narvousness." Yet Mr. Ducklow listened for further 
 indications of burglary. " Why can't ye be quiet and go to sleep ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I heard something ! Anybody might have looked 
 through the blinds and seen us puttin' — you know — under the 
 carpet." 
 
 " Nonsense ! 't a'n't at all likely." 
 
 But Mr. Ducklow was more alarmed than he was willing to con- 
 fess. He lay awake, hearing burglars in all parts of the house for 
 an hour longer. 
 
 "What now ? " suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow, starting up in 
 bed. 
 
 " I thought I might as well git up and satisfy myself," replied her 
 ^husband, in a low, agitated voice. 
 
 He had risen, and was groping his way to the kitchen. 
 
 " Is there anything ? " she inquired, after listening long with 
 1 chilling blood, expecting at each moment to hear him knocked down 
 or throttled. 
 
 He made no reply, but presently came gliding softly back again. 
 
 " I can't find nothin'. But I never in all my life heard the floors 
 creak so ! I could have sworn there was somebody walkin' over 
 'em ! " 
 j " I guess you're a little excited, a'n't ye ? " 
 
 "No, — I got over that; but I did hear noises!" Returning to 
 his pillow he dismissed his fears, and once more composed hi> 
 mind for slumber. 
 
 " Father ! " said Mrs. Ducklow, giving fiim a violent shake. 
 
 " Hey ? what ? " — arousing from his first sound sleep. 
 
 " Don't you smell something burning ? " 
 
 Ducklow snuffed ; Mrs. Ducklow snuffed ; they sat up in bed, and 
 snuffed vivaciously in concert. 
 
 " No, — I can't say I do. Did you ? " 
 
 "Jest as plain as ever I smelt anything in my life ! But I don't 
 so " — snuff, snuff — " not quite so distinct now." 
 
 " Seems to me I do smell somethin'," said Mr. Ducklow, imagina- 
 tion coming to his aid. " It can't be the matches, can it ? " 
 
 " I thought of the matches, but I certainly covered 'em up tight." 
 
1 54 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 They snuffed again — first one, then the other, — now a series of 
 quick, short snuffs, then one long, deep snuff, then a snuff by both 
 together. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed Mr. Ducklow. 
 
 " Why, what, father ? " 
 
 "It's Thaddeus ! He's been walkin' in his sleep. That's what we 
 heard. And now he's got the matches and set the house afire ! " 
 
 He bounded out of bed ; he went stumbling over the chairs in 
 the kitchen, and clattering among the tins in the pantry, and rushing 
 blindly and wildly up the kitchen stairs, only to find the matches all 
 right, Taddy fast asleep, and no indications anywhere, either to eye 
 or nostril, of anything burning. 
 
 " 'T was all your imagination, mother ! " 
 
 "My imagination ! You was jest as frightened as I was. I'm 
 sure I can't tell what it was I smelt ; I can't smell it now. Did you 
 feel for the — you know what ? " 
 
 Getting down on his knees, he felt in the dark for the bonds. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " he ejaculated. 
 
 " What now ? " cried Mrs. Ducklow. " They a'n't gone, be 
 they ? " 
 
 " Sure's the world ! — No here they be ! I didn't feel in the 
 right place." 
 
 " How you did frighten me ! My heart almost hopped out of 
 my mouth ! " 
 
 Daylight the next morning dissipated their doubts, and made both 
 feel that they had been the victims of unnecessary and foolish 
 alarms. 
 
 " I hope ye won't git so worked up another night," said Mr. 
 Ducklow." 
 
 " I should like to know if you didn't git excited, and rob me of 
 my sleep jest as much as I did you ! " retorted the indignant house- 
 wife. 
 
 " You fust put it into my head. But never mind. Le' 's have 
 breakfast as soon as ye can ; I'm in a hurry. The old mare lost a 
 shoe yisterday and I must git her shod this mornin'." 
 
 " I'll go with you as far as the blacksmith shop," said Mrs. Duck 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 155 
 
 low, "and walk on to the store while you are waitin'. I want some 
 more calico for my bedquilt." 
 
 "Wall, I'll call for ye when I git ready to go home." 
 
 " Come, Taddy ! Fly round ! You'll have lots o' chores to do 
 this mornin' ! " 
 
 Mr. Ducklow was just leaving the blacksmith's to drive to the 
 store for his wife, when he happened to cast his eyes in the direction 
 of his home, and saw a column of smoke. 
 
 The frightful catastrophe he forboded had befallen. Taddy had 
 set the house on fire. Not a moment was lost. 
 
 " Them bonds ! them bonds ! " he exclaimed distractedly. 
 "They are not insured; they are not registered; they'll be a dead 
 loss ! Fire ! Fire ! 
 
 " Git up ! git up ! fire ! fire ! Oh, them bonds ! them bonds ! 
 Fire ! Fire ! " It seemed to him that the mare's pace was like the 
 gallop of an old cow. 
 
 " Git uj) ! " Crack, crack went the whip. His hat fell off but 
 was left to its fate. " Fire ! Fire ! " was still the cry. 
 
 Neighbors looked out of their windows, and, recognizing Duck- 
 low's wagon and old mare in such an astonishing plight, and Duck- 
 low himself, without his hat, rising from his seat, and reaching 
 forward in wild attitudes, brandishing the reins, at the same time 
 rending the azure with yells, thought he must be insane. 
 
 He drove to the top of the hill, and looking beyond, in expecta- 
 tion of seeing his house wrapped in flames, discovered that the 
 smoke proceeded from a brush-heap which his neighbor Atkins was 
 burning in a field near by. 
 
 At length Ducklow succeeded in checking the old mare's speed, 
 and in turning her about. It was necessary to drive back for his 
 hat. By this time he could hear a chorus of shouts, " Fire ! fire ! 
 fire ! " over the hill. He had aroused the neighbors as he passed, 
 and now they were flocking to extinguish the flames. 
 
 "A false alarm ! a false alarm ! " said Ducklow, looking marvel- 
 ously sheepish, as he met them. " Nothing but Atkins's brush- 
 heap ! " 
 
 
156 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 As he approached the house, he met Taddy rushing wildly up the 
 street. 
 
 " Thaddeus ! Thaddeus ! where ye goin', Thaddeus ? " 
 
 " Goin' to the fire ! " cried Taddy. 
 
 " There isn't any fire, boy ! " 
 
 " Yes, there is ! Didn't ye hear 'em ? They've been yellin' like 
 fury." 
 
 " It's nothin' but Atkins's brush." 
 
 Taddy appeared very much disappointed. " I wonder who was 
 such a fool as to yell fire jest for a darned old brush-heap ! " 
 
 Ducklow did not inform him. 
 
 " I've got to drive back for your ma. You stand by the mare 
 while I step in and brush my hat." 
 
 Instead of applying himself at once to the restoration of his 
 beaver, he hastened to the sitting-room to see that the bonds were 
 safe. 
 
 " Heavens and 'arth ! " said Ducklow. 
 
 The chair, which had been carefully planted in the spot where 
 they were concealed, had been removed. Three or four tacks had 
 been taken out, and the carpet pushed from the wall. There was 
 straw scattered about. Evidently Taddy had been interrupted in 
 the midst of his ransacking by the alarm of fire-. 
 
 In great trepidation the farmer thrust in his hand here and there, 
 and groped until he found the envelope. Great was the joy of 
 Ducklow. Great also was the wrath of him, when he turned and 
 discovered Taddy. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you to stand by the old mare ? " 
 
 " She won't stir," said Taddy, shrinking away again. 
 
 " Come here ! " And Ducklow grasped him by the collar. 
 " What have you been doin' ? Look at that ! " 
 
 " 'T wa'n't me ! " — beginning to whimper and ram his fists into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Don't tell me 't wa'n't you ! " Ducklow shook him till his teeth 
 chattered. " What was you pullin' up the carpet for ? " 
 
 " Lost a marble ! " snivelled Taddy. 
 
ELOCUTIONAL V STUDIES. 1 5 7 
 
 " Lost a marble ! Ye didn't lose it under the carpet, did ye ? 
 Look at all that straw pulled out ! " — shaking him again. 
 
 " Didn't know but it might 'a' got under the carpet, marbles roll 
 so," explained Taddy, as soon as he could get his breath. 
 
 "Wall, sir!" Ducklow administered a resounding box on his 
 ear. " Don't you do such a thing again, if you lose a million 
 marbles ! Go to that mare, and don't you leave her again till I 
 come." • 
 
 What should he do with the bonds ? The floor was no place for 
 them, after what had happened ; and he remembered too well the 
 experience of yesterday to think for a moment of carrying them 
 about his person. 
 
 A bright idea finally came. There was a trunk in the garret, 
 filled with old papers of all sorts- — newspapers, letters, bills of sale, 
 children's writing-books, — accumulations of the )ast quarter of a 
 century. Neither fire nor burglar nor ransacking youngster had 
 ever molested those ancient records during all those five-and-twenty 
 years. A bright thought struck him. 
 
 " I'll slip the bonds down into that wuthless heap o' rubbish, 
 where no one 'u'd ever think o' lookin' for 'em> and resk 'em." 
 
 Having assured himself that Taddy was standing by the wagon, 
 he paid a hasty visit to the trunk in the garret, and concealed the 
 envelope, still bound in its band of tape, and appearing as if it 
 had not been opened, among the papers. He then drove away, 
 giving Taddy a final charge to beware of setting anything afire. 
 
 He had not gone far when the thought occurred to him that Mrs. 
 D. might come home across the lots while he drove round the road 
 and might sell the contents of that trunk to a peddler. So back he 
 went. The house was found as he had left it, and Taddy was occu- 
 pied in making a kite frame. 
 
 Mr. Ducklow went again to the garret, got the envelope, placed 
 it in the breast- pocket of his overcoat and pinned it in with six 
 large, strong pins, and drove away. 
 
 Mrs. Ducklow made her purchase, and after waiting a reasonable 
 time for her husband, she went to the door just in time to see him 
 drive frantically homeward. No time to be lost, she followed on 
 
1 58 ELOCUTIONAR V STUDIES. 
 
 foot and across lots, reaching home after Mr. Ducklow 'had left. A 
 chaise was just going away from the house. A robber, perhaps. 
 Frantically she rushed in, to find the straw scattered about the 
 carpet and the bonds gone. 
 
 " The man in the chaise ! " she exclaimed, or rather made an 
 effort to exclaim, succeeding only in bringing forth a hoarse, gasp. 
 ing sound. Fear dried up articulation. 
 
 And 'Faddy?' He had been murdered, perhaps — or gagged and 
 carried away by the man in the chaise. 
 
 Mrs. Ducklow flew hither and thither (to use a favorite phrase of 
 her own), " like a hen with her head cut oft, " then rushed out of 
 the house, and up the street, screaming after the chaise — 
 
 " Murder ! murder ! Stop thief! stop thief! " 
 
 She waved her hands aloft in the air frantically. If she had 
 trudged before, now she trotted, now she cantered ; but if the 
 cantering of the old mare was fitly likened to that of a cow, to what 
 thing, to what manner of motion under the sun, shall we liken the 
 cantering of Mrs. Ducklow ? It was original ; it was unique ; it 
 was prodigious. With frantically waving hands and undulating, 
 flapping skirts, she seemed a species of huge, unwieldy bird, attempt- 
 ing to fly. Then she sank down into a heavy, dragging walk, — 
 breath and strength all gone, — no voice left even to scream murder. 
 Half running again, half flying, she was passing a house, when its 
 owner cried out : ; - What's the matter ? What's to pay, Mrs. Duck- 
 low ? " 
 
 " Robbed," she wheezed out. 
 
 " Robbed ? How ? Who ? " 
 
 " The chaise ; ketch it." 
 
 A horse was hitched to a wagon in the yard; Atkins helped Mrs. 
 Ducklow to clamber in and set off in pursuit. 
 
 " Stop, you, sir ! Stop, you, sir ! " shrieks Mrs. Ducklow, when 
 they came up with die chaise. 
 
 " You've robbed my house ! You've took — " Mrs. Ducklow was 
 going on in wild accusation, when she recognized — the benign face 
 ..'f her minister. 
 
 " What do you say? I have robbed you?" 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 159 
 
 " No, no, not you; you, you wouldn't do such a thing; but have 
 you s,een our Thaddeus ?" 
 
 " Here I be, ma Ducklow," piped a small voice, and Taddy 
 peeped out of the chaise from behind the broad back of the minis- 
 ter. 
 
 " Taddy ! Taddy ! how came the carpet ' 
 
 " I pulled it up huntin' for a marble." 
 
 "And the — the thing tied up in a brown wrapper ? " 
 
 " Pa Ducklow took it." 
 
 "Oh, dear, I never was so beat, Mr. Grantley I hope — excuse 
 me — I didn't know what I was about. Taddy, you notty boy, 
 what did you leave the house for ? " 
 
 The minister smilingly remarked that he hoped she would find 
 mo robbery had been committed, and went his way. Atkins drove 
 back, and set her and Taddy down at the Ducklow gate. 
 
 Soon afterward appeared Mr. Ducklow. " The bonds are all 
 right," said he, tapping the breast-pocket of his coat. 
 
 After long consultation Mrs. Ducklow asked : "Why not put 'em 
 in Josiah's safe ? He's got a safe, ye know." 
 
 " So he has ! We might drive over there and make a visit Mon- 
 day, and ask him to lock up yes, we might tell him and Laury 
 
 all about it, and leave 'em in their charge." 
 
 " So we might ! " said Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 Laura was their daughter, and Josiah her husband, in whose 
 honor and sagacity they placed unlimited confidence. The plan 
 1 was resolved upon at once. 
 
 The next day was Sunday ; and although Mr. Ducklow did not 
 like to have the bonds on his mind during sermon-time, and Mrs. 
 IDuckiow "dreaded dreadfully," as she said, "to look the minister 
 in tne mce," they concluded that it was best, on the whole, to go to 
 meeting, and carry the bonds. With the envelope once more in 
 his breast-pocket (stitched in this time by Mrs. Ducklow's own hand), 
 the farmer sat under the droppings oi the sanctuary, and stared up 
 at vne minister without hearing a word of the discourse until the 
 preamer exclaimed vehemently, looking, as it seemed to the fright- 
 ened couple, straight at the Ducklow pew, — " What says Paul ? ' I 
 
160 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, 
 were both almost and altogether such as I am, except these bonds,' 
 ' except these bonds,' " he repeated striking the Bible. " Can 
 you, my hearers, can you say, with Paul, ' Would that all were as I 
 am, except these bonds ? ' 
 
 Early the next morning Taddy's adopted parents set out to visit 
 their daughter. It was afternoon when they arrived at their jour- 
 ney's end. Laura received them joyfully. 
 
 " What do ye think of Gov'ment bonds, Josiah ? " Mr. Ducklow 
 incidentally inquired after supper. 
 
 " First-rate," said Josiah. 
 
 " But how is it about the cowpon bonds ? A'n't they rather tick- 
 lish property to have in the house ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know. Think how many years you'll keep old 
 bills and documents and never dream of losin' 'em." 
 . " Suppose," said Ducklow, as if the thought had but just occurred 
 to him — " suppose you put my bonds into your safe ; I shall feel 
 easier." 
 
 " Of course," replied Josiah. " I'll keep 'em for you, if you like." 
 
 Ducklow was happy. Mrs. Ducklow was happy. She took her 
 husband's coat, and with a pair of scissors cut the threads that 
 stitched the envelope to the pocket. 
 
 " Have you torn off the May coupons ?" asked Josiah. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, you'd better. They'll be payable now soon ; and if you 
 take them, you won't have to touch the bonds again till the interest 
 on the November coupons is due." 
 
 " A good idea ! " said Ducklow. 
 
 He took the envelope, untied the tape, and removed its contents 
 Suddenly the glow of comfort, the gleam of satisfaction, faded from 
 his countenance. 
 
 " Hello ! What ye got there ? " cried Josiah. 
 
 " Why, father ! massy sakes ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow. 
 
 As for Ducklow himself, he could not utter a word ; but, dumb 
 with consternation, he looked again in the envelope, and opened 
 and turned inside out, and shook, with trembling hands, its astonish- 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 161 
 
 ing contents. The bonds were not there; they had been stolen, and 
 three copies of the "Sunday Visitor" had been inserted in their 
 place. 
 
 Very early on the following morning a dismal-faced, middle-aged 
 couple might have been seen riding away from Josiah's house. It 
 was the Ducklows returning home, after their fruitless, their worse 
 than fiuitless journey. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said Mrs. D., with a groan, " I wish the pesky cow- 
 pon bonds had never been invented ! " A sentiment which her 
 husband most fully concurred in. 
 
 The house of the Ducklows was filled with gloom until Taddy, 
 having first been fully assured that he would not receive the pun- 
 ishment deserved, made a clean breast of it, and told the whole 
 story. Impelled by a curiosity which had well nigh devoured 
 that small boy, he found opportunity to investigate the contents 
 of the package when it had lain under the carpet, and thinking the 
 I b nds would make a better material for covering his kite than com- 
 mon paper, concluded to use them for that purpose. This he im- 
 parted to his astonished foster-parents, after a solemn promise had 
 been given that he should not be punished if he would only tell 
 the whole truth in the matter. 
 
 " Did you cover your kite ? " 
 
 " No. When I found out you cared so much about 'em, I 
 dars'n't ; I was afraid you'd see 'em." 
 
 " Then what did you do with 'em ? " 
 
 " When you was away, Dick come over; and I — I sold 'em to 
 him." 
 
 11 Sold 'em to Dick ? " 
 
 " Yes, sold them for six marbles, and one was a bull's-eye, and 
 one agate, and two alleys. Then, Avhen you come home and made 
 such a fuss, I wanted 'em ag'in. But he wouldn't give me back but 
 four, and I wa'n't going to agree to no such nonsense as that." 
 
 " But the bonds ! did he destroy 'em ? " 
 
 " Likely he'd destroy 'em, after he'd paid six marbles for 'em J 
 He wanted 'em to cover his kite with." 
 
1 62 ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 " Cover his — oh ! then he's made a kite of 'em ? " said Duck- 
 low. 
 
 " No, I got 'em back, here they are. I promised Dick that he 
 might play on my new drum when you git it for me. You said you 
 wouldn't lick me ? and — say, when can I have the drum, pa Duck- 
 low ? " 
 
 The owner of the bonds was too glad to get them at any cost) 
 and he said good-naturedly, " You don't deserve no drum after cut- 
 tin' up so and makin' me and yer ma so much trouble, but I'll get 
 it fur you when I go to town — cause I said I would." And pa 
 Ducklow kept his word. 
 
 A SEA-SIDE FLIRTATION. 
 
 Samuel Minturn Peck. 
 
 (Good for an encore.) 
 
 WITH sorrow in her eyes of blue, 
 With trembling hands she slowly penned it— 
 The little parting billet doux 
 
 That conscience told her now should end it. 
 Those tete-a-tete along the shore, 
 
 Those gypsyings with fern-filled basket, 
 Must join the dear delights of yore 
 And only live in memory's casket. 
 
 There never was a heart like Jack's : 
 
 He told his passion in his glances. 
 She sealed her note with scented wax, 
 
 But could not drown her dismal fancies. 
 When he should read his suit denied, 
 
 So long the theme of idle gazers, 
 She pictured him a suicide, 
 
 And shuddered at the thought of razors ! 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 163 
 
 At last she slept — but not till dawn 
 
 Had blossomed through the ocean vapors. 
 Jack conned her missive with a yawn 
 
 When he had read the morning papers. 
 He gave his beard a languid twirl, 
 
 And murmured as he sat a-smoking : 
 " Tear-stained — By Jove ! — poor little girl — 
 
 I thought she knew that I was joking ! " 
 
 BARNYARD MELODIES. 
 
 Fred Emerson Brooks 
 
 From "Voice Culture and Elocution," by permission of the author, Prof. 
 William T. Ross. 
 
 DELIGHTFUL change from the town's abode, 
 Is a charming drive on a country road ; 
 From the stifled air of the city's street 
 To the perfumed breath of the daisies sweet ! 
 You halt your team at the farmer's gate, 
 He comes to open it ; while you wait 
 Old Rover comes bounding down the hill 
 In spite of his master's : — " Rover, be still ! " — 
 His barking shakes his thick, shaggy coat, 
 While these notes roll from his deep-toned throat : 
 Bow -wow -wow -wow / 
 Bow -wow -wow -wow ! 
 
 On either side fat hens take leg, 
 While others announce a new-laid egg: 
 
 Cut-cut-cut cut-da-cut / 
 
 Cut-cut-cut cut-da-cut / 
 
 The rooster, shrill spokesman for the brood. 
 Says, one-third polite and two-thirds rude : 
 
 Tut Cock a -doodle-do ! 
 
 And who the deuce are you ? 
 
i6 4 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 The ducks and drakes use the self-same quack, 
 They 're just alike save the curl at the back ; 
 For " divers "' reasons they go to the pond, 
 For " sun-dry " reasons they strut around, 
 And waddle off like sailors a-spreeing, 
 And talk like doctors when disagreeing : 
 
 Quack-quack-quack-quack ! 
 
 Quack-qitack-quack-quack I 
 
 The turkey gobbler comes charging 'round 
 With ruffled temper and wings aground ; 
 For fear he might his foe overtake 
 He gives alarm, then puts on the brake : 
 
 Plip gobble-obble-obble I 
 
 Plip-gobble-obble-obble / 
 
 The hog in the trough with dirty feet — 
 The more you give him the more he '11 eat; 
 This gourmand finds nothing to desire 
 When half asleep in the half-dried mire : 
 
 R-r-r-rough-ff ! r-r-r rough-ff ! 
 
 R-r-r-rough-ff ! r-r-r-rough-ff ! 
 
 The sow is teaching her litter of shoats 
 To speak hog latin with guttural throats : 
 Ugh-ee f ugh-ee / ugh-ee! ugh-ee / 
 Ugh-ee ! ugh-ee ! ugh-ee / ugh-ee / 
 
 The calf and lamb at distance dispute 
 The right of bin with horned brute ; 
 Their blat and bleat the hard-headed scorns 
 Where right or wrong's a question of horns* 
 
 Bah / bah / . Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh ! 
 
 Bah ! bah / Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh ! 
 
 The bare-foot boy from the tender rows 
 Of corn is driving the " pesky " crows ; 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 165 
 
 He stubs his toe, and they mock his pain; 
 He throws a stone, and they 're off again : 
 
 Caw / caw ! caw ! caw ! 
 
 Caw / caw / caw 1 caw ! 
 
 From out the meadow the lowing kine, 
 
 Treading the buttercups, come in line ; 
 
 Come with their soft tread through the grass; 
 
 Answer the call of the farmer's lass : 
 
 Cd-boss ! co 1 -boss / cd-boss I Moo 1 
 
 Co' -boss ! cd-boss / cd-boss / Moo ! 
 
 They stand there meekly chewing their cud, 
 Whacking their sides with a sudden thud 
 To battle the flies; the swinging tail 
 Meanwhile drops down in the frothing pail : 
 
 So-boss / so-boss / so-so-so ! 
 
 Stand still, Brindle ! heist ! so-so / 
 
 The king of the herd, imprisoned a-field, 
 Is hooking the bars quite loth to yield ; 
 He paws up the earth with muscles tense, 
 And then pacing down the long line fence 
 On neighboring chief — with haughty mein 
 And challenge hoarse — he vents his spleen 
 
 Mow-ow-ush ! mow-ow-asJi I 
 
 Mow-00 ! mow -00 ! ow-ush i 
 
 The mare knee-deep in the clover bed 
 Caresses her nursing thoroughbred ; 
 The well-fed oxen in stancheons, meek ; 
 The plowboy grooming his horses, sleek ; 
 They whisk their tails and nip at his back 
 While down the curry-comb comes a-whack ! — 
 
 Whoa, Dan ! you rascal, stand still ! 
 
 Cxh / cxh / cxh .' Gd up thar, Bill! 
 
166 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 The barn well filled with the bursting sheaves j 
 The swallows twittering 'neath the eaves 
 Their song of plenty ; the farmer's heart 
 And barn are full — while he walks apart 
 And chants his thankfulness as he goes 
 By whistling the only tune he knows: 
 
 " Yankee Doodle" [to be whistled .] 
 
 TWO BELLS. 
 
 Rev. J. W. Sanborn. 
 
 Very effective if one can give bell notes, similar to Poe's " Bells " and 
 
 " Creeds of the Bells." 
 
 L 
 
 1ST ! the clamor of the bells, 
 Sweeping over dales and dells ; 
 
 Penetrating everywhere, — 
 Souls, and homes, and all the air. 
 
 One, a deep-toned, mellow bell, 
 Eager its glad news to tell. 
 
 The next two lines are given in imitation of bell-tones, with swelling 
 voice upon " pealing -."] 
 
 " Peace on earth, to men good will," 
 Pealing, pealing, pealing still. 
 
 Full of hope its golden tones ; 
 
 Stirring thoughts of crowns and thrones, 
 
 Palms, and harps, and robes of white, 
 In the realm that knows no night ; 
 
 Wherr, He reigns to whom we bow. 
 'Tis His bell peals, " Now ! now ! now ! " 
 [Ring out gravely, with full voice. J 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 167 
 
 Thus God's bell its warning note 
 Sounds from out its golden throat. 
 
 But another — brazen bell — 
 Beats against this golden swell, 
 
 Ringing out, " No trouble borrow; 
 Just as well to-morrow, 'morrow." 
 
 [Imitate bells, higher pitch, quicker time.] 
 
 And the devil's brazen bell 
 Holds the masses in its spell : 
 
 *' Feast thyself to-day ! To-morrow 
 Will be time enough for sorrow ! " 
 
 | Gravi ly. ] 
 " But to-morrow'll never be ! " 
 Rings the bell of Deity; 
 
 " Past and future are God's own ; 
 Yours is now, and now alone." 
 
 List ! the clamor of the bells ! 
 Sweeping over dales and dells; 
 
 " Now ! " " To-morrow ! " " Now !"" To-morrow I " 
 
 I 2 
 
 " Listen now ! " "Wb trouble borrow / " 
 \_Gravely i, joyously 2.] 
 
 Lnters Death ! With sturdy stroke^ 
 T*:e to-morrow bell he broke ! 
 
 While God's bell, in minor strain, 
 Sadly echoed forth again : 
 
1 68 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 " Hadst thou harkened to my warning 
 Thou hadst now shared in the dawning 
 f Clear and low.\ 
 
 " Glory of Celestial morn ! 
 But alas ! thy day is gone ! " 
 [ Very low. \ 
 
 DERBY DAY. —(After Owen Meredith.) 
 
 Fanny Fos'iek Clark. 
 
 The following is one of a series of very clever imitations of modern poets which 
 was written not long since by Mrs. Clark. 
 
 STRANGE that an innocent, girlish way, 
 A pouting demand, and a sunrise face 
 Should send such a cynical mind astray 
 To such a scene as the Derby race. 
 
 Another man would be singing of love 
 And the dear delights of a soft caress ; 
 
 I'm seeing, the heads of the crowd above, 
 The heliotrope sheen of a gauzy dress, 
 
 And opal eyes 'neath a fringe of hair 
 As soft and light as the morning mist; 
 
 The jealous glove, that, despite its care, 
 Leaves an ivory arm by the shadows kist. 
 
 Dainty and dear the patrician head, 
 
 And the matchless jewel that glows in her ear: 
 
 My heart stood still, and my soul it said : 
 " My queen and my darling, she knows I am here " 
 
 For, oh, 'neath the fall of the Mechlin lace, 
 And the yellow roses that lay on her heart, 
 
 'Cross the carriage that intervenes I can trace, 
 I swear, how her pulses tremble and start. 
 
EL O C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 69 
 
 I left her, a bare three months ago, 
 
 'Neath the chandelier, at the palace ball; 
 In that clear, sweet voice she whispered low : 
 
 " Don't fear, 1 am true, I'll wait." After all 
 
 The hurry and fret and the half despair, 
 
 They have poisoned my brief Continental trip j 
 
 She's true, with her opal eyes so rare, 
 
 And the faint, sweet coral stain of her lip. 
 
 " I'll go to her now ; she will understand • 
 
 With a look, and all will be well," I said; 
 But venders of cakes came by, and a band, 
 
 And a tumbling boy who would stand on his head. 
 
 And carriages crowded right up in the way, 
 And loud there came from a booth hard by, 
 
 Where strolling actors were giving a play, 
 The beat of a drum and a mountebank's cry. 
 
 With a muttered, impatient word I tried 
 
 To stem the current, when, scented and fine, 
 
 And horribly well-dressed, stood at my side 
 Lord John, as usual, flushed with wine. 
 
 " I say, old fellow, I see you stare," 
 
 He said, " like the rest, at yon pretty toy 
 With the opal eyes and the soft, fringed hair; 
 
 You know she's just married to old Mountjoy." 
 
 " Liar ! " I sprang at my Lord John's throat, 
 
 A dozen friends came crowding around 
 And said he had spoke the truth, and took note 
 
 That 7 cowered and shook like a craven hound. 
 
 Twas fear of that tipsy young lord they hint 
 
 To this day, I believe I am written down 
 As a coward somewhere in London print; 
 
 Bah ! should I show my heart to the town ? 
 
i7o ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Should I show that I died just there and then ? 
 
 And Derby day, with its crowd and noise, 
 Its mountebank plays, and women and men, 
 
 Its dust and din and tumbling boys, 
 
 Is the very last scene in my former life ? 
 
 Why, 'twas but a ghost, to-day in the Row 
 When passed by the Duke of Mountjoy and his wife, 
 
 Who smiled and saluted me blandly and low. 
 
 Sweet opal eyes 'neath the fringe of hair, 
 Your glow is calm in that placid face ; 
 
 But, oh, you send men's souls to " Where ? " 
 
 'Twould scare you, Duchess, to name the place. 
 
 DANDELION AND CLOVER-TOP. 
 
 May Riley Smith. 
 
 A pretty costume dialogue for six little girls. It must be given during the day, 
 as the dandeloin goes to sleep too early to be made available for an evening per- 
 formance. 
 
 Dandelion wears a dress of gauzy white, with a broad hat turned 
 up on one side ; dress and hat are trimmed with dandelion leaves 
 and flowers. 
 
 Clover-top wears a hat and dress like that of Dandelion, trimmed 
 with red clover leaves and flowers 
 
 Violet wears a white dress and a poke bonnet, which may be 
 covered with blue violets, bunches of violets upon her dress and a 
 basket of the flowers upon her arm. 
 
 Hollyhock wears the flowers like rosettes upon her white dress. 
 They should be of the double kind, of various colors. She wears a 
 pretty peasant waist of green silk and a jaunty little shirred silk hat 
 turned up in front. Her hair is in long curls or waves. She stands 
 upon the left side, nearer the front than Dandelion and Clover-top. 
 
 Buttercup wears her hair flowing looselv and decked with a wreath 
 of buttercups ; dress of tulle trimmed with festoons of buttercups. 
 She is seen upon the right, opposite Hollyhock. 
 
ELOCUTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 7 1 
 
 The sixth is dressed in white with any flowers she chooses to wear. 
 She is hidden by a screen as she reads. She must speak very clearly 
 md distinctly. 
 
 \From behind the screen.] 
 
 DANDELION and Clover-top growing close together, 
 Bobbed their bright young heads and talked, in the new spring 
 weather. 
 
 fust across the little path in a grassy hollow, 
 Buttercup was coquetting with a noisy swallow. 
 
 [Dandelion, pointing scornfully toward Buttercup. ] 
 ' Do you know," said Dandelion, growing stiff" and sullen, 
 ' Buttercup, who used to rank with Milkweed and Mullen, 
 
 ' Goes to parties, matinees, and all such queer places? 
 And is quite the rage, they say, with her silly graces." 
 
 I Clover.] 
 " Well," laughed Clover, merrily, " this we will agree on — 
 That she wears her honors well, for such a plebeian ! 
 
 " I should surely cross my knees, spill my dew at dinner— 
 When it comes to etiquette, I'm a dreadful sinner ! 
 
 "As for you, you sleep so much, they say — without malice — 
 1 hat you steal the opium from the poppy's chalice." 
 
 \DandeIion, pointing toward Hollyhock.] 
 I There is Madam Hollyhock," still pursued the other, 
 
 ,f< Used to be on friendly terms with my great-grandmother. 
 
 - 
 
 I Then she wore the plainest skirt, with a simple tunic, 
 
 Now she looks like some grand dame just arrived from Munich. 
 
 I Then she stood beside the wall, or the lattice, may be, 
 Now she rings the front door-bell, just like any lady." 
 
172 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 [Clover.] 
 " Why, you must be jealous, dear ! " Clover said, serenely, 
 " For her colors are superb, and her manners queenly. 
 
 " Her quaint bodice of pale green fits her to perfection, 
 And a ruffle more or less is no great objection." 
 
 [ Violet crosses the back of the stage and passes over to the side of 
 Buttercup. From behind the screen. ~\ 
 Just then Violet passed by in her soft blue bonnet; 
 Dandelion's face grew dark, with the frown upon it. 
 
 [Dandelion.] 
 " See ! " she cried, " the whole bright world greets her as she passes^ 
 While our lives are hidden here in the weeds and grasses. 
 
 " How I hate her artless ways! hate her queer poke bonnet ! 
 Hate her modest drooping face, with the soft smile on it ! 
 
 " ' Modest Violet,' indeed ! when her vainest glory 
 Is the meek humility granted her in story ! 
 
 " Tell me, does God love her best ? Count her blue gown fairer ? 
 Is her perfume sweet to Him ? or her graces rarer ? " 
 
 [Clover.] 
 " Hush ! " said Clover, sweetly grave, " God is God foreve* ! 
 Doubt whatever else you will, but His goodness never. 
 
 " Violet gives lavishly of her wealth of sweetness, 
 
 And the world requites the debt from its own completeness. 
 
 "Do not wrong the God above, and our brown earth-mother, 
 Why not like your own life best, sighing for no other ? 
 
 " I'd not change my happy lot with my wild-bee lover 
 For the world of violets : No, not I ! " laughed Clover. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 173 
 
 \From behind the screen. J 
 " Humph ! " that little cynic said, with her bright eyes closing, 
 And the rest I never heard, for she fell a-dozing. 
 
 The girl behind the screen comes out. A semi-circle is formed 
 of the six, who join hands, dance toward the audience, back and 
 forth, to music, three or four times, when curtain falls. 
 
 THE PATH OF THE CYCLONE. 
 
 Meta E. B. Thorne. 
 
 r HE faithful Don ! " the farmer called, that sultry summer morn, 
 13 As he turned away and left the boy at work among the corn. 
 " Dotty, my dear, you will be sure to take the best of care 
 Of grandma," the mother said, " this trust with you I share." 
 
 I 
 Away across the prairies sped the farmer's handsome bays, 
 
 While higher mounted up the sun and hotter grew its rays; 
 
 But scarce a word the parents spoke, their eager thoughts would 
 
 roam 
 
 j With many a tender, earnest prayer for the cherished ones at home. 
 
 Like emerald banners on the air the corn its broad leaves flung, 
 And every tiny murmuring breeze each silken tassel swung, 
 And seemed to sing, " Be faithful, boy ! " to Donald's listening ear ; 
 " Be faithful ! " piped the meadow larks down by the streamlet clear. 
 
 He read it on the smiling face of upland meadow, too, 
 And penned in lines of living light on heaven's arching blue, 
 As busily he plied his hoe his heart exulting sang, 
 And louder than the bobolink's his merry whistle rang. 
 
 O'ershaded by its clambering vines, and set 'mid beds of bloom, 
 The farmer's pleasant homestead stood, and in an upper room, 
 On every thoughtful care intent, busily to and fro, 
 A happy little maiden went, while humming soft and low. 
 
174 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Now here she closed a blind to shut away the sun's bright glare ; 
 
 To let each stray, cool zephyr in she raised a window there ; 
 
 And then a cooling draught she brought that " grandma dear '' 
 
 might drink ; 
 Then in a vase close by she placed some roses white and pink. 
 
 And when the morning had gone by, the noontide meal she laid ; 
 Then all was cleared away, herself in coolest dress arrayed, 
 Seated once more by grandma's side she bathed the fevered brow, 
 And gently plied the fan, and sang in accents sweet and low. 
 
 But by the languorous heat oppressed the tune dropped drowsily, 
 Then died away, and Dotty slept, her head on grandma's knee ■ 
 And grandma, too, with gentle hand upon the drooping head, 
 Was dreaming of the past, once more among the cherished dead. 
 
 Meantime, among the corn, the boy, though weary, plied his hoe j 
 But fervid was the afternoon, and on his heated brow 
 Stood beads of sweat that slowly fell like heavy drops of rain ; 
 Still he worked on " Faithful I'll be in weariness or in pain." 
 
 Then suddenly he heard a sound borne on the heavy air 
 Of late so still — an ominous roar, and then an angry glare 
 Lit up the western sky. He cried, " Here comes a hurricane ! 
 I must haste home to make all snug before the wind and rain." 
 
 Up through the rows of corn, and then beneath the orchard trees, 
 Then up the garden swift he sped, but swifter came the breeze. 
 A fierce and mighty blast, he saw it sweeping o'er the plain ; 
 Before it fell the trees, as falls before the scythe the grain. 
 
 With hands outstretched and close shut eyes he sank upon his knees, 
 " Lord, thou alone canst save," he cried. " O spare us, if you please ! 
 O let the storm go by and save Dotty and grandma dear, 
 Mother and father once again to meet. O Jesus, hear ! " 
 
 He raised his eyes and looked around — the elm tree by the gate 
 Uprooted lay upon the ground, and like a furrow straight 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 175 
 
 A wide swath through the meadow lay, and o'er the field of corn, 
 And through the belt of woods beyond, so green and strong that 
 morn. 
 
 The wind had died away, and only now, " like sound of hoofs," 
 The heavy rain beat down the flowers and trampled on the roofs, 
 And on his brow all bare. He rose and as one in a dream 
 Entered the house, closing the doors and windows from the stream 
 
 Of water falling from the clouds. Seeking his grandma's room 
 He marveled much to find them still asleep amid the gloom 
 That had descended with the storm. Yet wondered they still more 
 To see the havoc that was wrought so near their very door. 
 
 How anxiously the farmer sought his home across the plain, 
 That night as warily he shunned the footprints of the rain. 
 " 'Tis awful, wife, the ruin wrought ! " in low, deep tones he said, 
 " The track leads straight for home ; pray God they may not all be 
 dead." 
 
 And thus, 'mid fears and hopes and prayers, their home at last they 
 
 near ; 
 The prone elm bars their way ; but what is this they see ? Right 
 
 here 
 As turned by some resistless power the mighty pathway bends, 
 •Sweeping away across the fields. A thankful prayer ascends. 
 
 Now all the loved ones meet again, and each his story tells; 
 
 Then such a psalm rings out, such praise from those hearts' deepest 
 
 wells ! 
 And oft they since have told the tale, with mingled awe and fear, 
 How God had turned the hurricane, answering a young lad's prayer. 
 
 A PIN. 
 
 Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 
 
 
 
 H, I know a certain woman who is reckoned with the good, 
 But she fills me with more terror than a raging lion could. 
 
i 7 6 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 The little chills run up and down my spine whene'er we meet, 
 Though she seems a gentle creature, and she's very trim and neat. 
 
 And she has a thousand virtues, and not one acknowledged sin, 
 But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin. 
 And she pricks you, and she sticks you in a way that can't be said — 
 When you ask for what has hurt you, why, you cannot find the head. 
 
 But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain — 
 
 If anybody asks you why, you really can't explain. 
 
 A pin is such a tiny thing — of that there is no doubt — 
 
 \ et when it's sticking in your flesh, you're wretched till it's out. 
 
 She is wonderfully observing — when she meets a pretty girl 
 She is always sure to tell her if her " bang " is out of curl. 
 And she is so sympathetic ; to her friend, who's much admired, 
 She is often heard remarking : " Dear, you look so worn and tired ! " 
 
 And she is a careful critic ; for on yesterday she eyed 
 
 The new dress I was airing with a woman's natural pride, 
 
 And she said : '• Oh, how becoming ! " and then softly added, " It 
 
 Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit." 
 
 Then she said : " If you had heard me yestereve, I'm sure, my friend, 
 You would say I am a champion who knows how to defend." 
 And she left me with the feeling — most unpleasant, I aver — 
 That the whole world would despise me if it had not been for her. 
 
 Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way, 
 
 She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day, 
 
 And the hat that was imported (and that cost me half a sonnet), 
 
 With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery bonnet, 
 
 She is always bright and smiling, sharp and shining for a thrust — 
 Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather rust — 
 Oh ! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin 
 To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 177 
 
 THE SALE OF THE PIG.. 
 
 Jessie P. O'Donnell. 
 
 OCH, Biddy ! 'tis bad news I'm bringin', 
 Wid sorrow my heart's fit to break; 
 The docther is wantin' his money, 
 The rint will be due in a wake. 
 But worse than all this, Biddy, darlint, 
 
 A cruel and heart-rinding blow ! 
 " What's that what has hurt me ? " ye're askin' 
 Shure ! Biddy, the pig must go. 
 
 For Kitty, ye know, has the measles, 
 
 And Tim, the poor colleen's, so bad 
 The docther has said if we kape him 
 
 We must have fresh air fur the lad. 
 The babby, too, she has been ailin', 
 
 And, faith ! her' recovery's so slow, 
 A change must be made fur the wee wan, 
 
 So, Biddy, the pig must go. 
 
 All day I've been thinkin' of, Biddy, 
 
 The counthry so grand and so swate, 
 And in my ould head I've been plannin' 
 
 Arrangements quite trim and complate. 
 You, darlint, must take all the childhurs, — 
 
 New life upon them 'twell bestow — 
 And go from the city to mither's, 
 
 And, Biddy, the pig must go. 
 
 A snug, tidy cottage has mither, 
 
 As purty as iver ye see, 
 There's only wan room besides two, dear, 
 
 But that is enough space fur ye. 
 
178 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 My'mither has two little gardens, 
 Whtre praties and posies both grow, 
 
 And glad will she welcome the childhurs, 
 But piggy to death must go. 
 
 I hate, dear, to part wid the crathur — 
 
 Perhaps he's a throifle too blunt, — 
 But oft I have killed me wid laughin' 
 
 A-listenin' to his plazed grunt. 
 In faith ! he's the winnin'est baste, woife, 
 
 Amongst all the pigs that I know, 
 But to the starved knife of the butcher, 
 
 Dear Biddy, our pig must go. 
 
 He'll fetch a great pile of good money, 
 
 He's growin' now fat and so big, 
 Ye'll feel when away fast ye travel, 
 
 Ye're ridin' away on the pig. 
 Don't let the young childhurs forget, dear. 
 
 What to this dear crathur they owe, 
 Since off to the blessed grand counthry 
 
 'Tis piggy allows 'em to go. 
 
 We'll lave the nate hut by the railroad, 
 
 Wid pig-pen as good as the bist, 
 For I can get wurrk in the city, 
 
 And board there as chape as the rist. 
 Whisht, Biddy ! ye plaze to spake aisy ; 
 
 Ye say ye're not lavin' me so 
 That I shall not sthruggle on lonely 
 
 While off on the pig ye go ? 
 
 Faith, darlint ! mesilf 'tis that's longin' 
 To see ye again loike a rose, 
 
 Your eyes, wunst the brag of ould Ireland, 
 Again their ould sparkles disclose. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 179 
 
 Whisht, Biddy, have done vvid your talkin ! 
 
 Indade ! I would have me woife know 
 The hilth of die childhurs is precious, 
 
 So you and the pig must go ! 
 
 THE PARSON'S CRADLE. 
 
 Anna Randall-Diehl. 
 
 FT AD we not best buy a cradle, for the baby, Mary dear? 
 
 1 1 He's too heavy and too restless for your slender arms. 1 fear ; 
 Quite the tyrant is he getting in his active growing life," 
 Said the Reverend Thomas Murry, to his blue-eyed little wife. 
 " Yes, but, Thomas, who will rock it through the long hours of 
 
 the night ? 
 Something with perpetual motion, only, could relieve us quite," 
 Laughing, said the pretty mother, lifting baby in her arms, 
 Pretty, crowing, fair-haired baby, with his many dimpled charms. 
 
 Later, Reverend Thomas Murry set out on his quest intent, 
 
 And through many crowded ware-rooms were his eager footsteps 
 
 bent. 
 Vain, in truth, was all the searching for a cradle like, the one 
 That had rocked the baker's dozen, in his old ancestral home, 
 Of sound limbed and rosy children, the old cradle, deep and wide, 
 Swinging on its creaking rockers, mother sitting at the side; 
 Found he but the newest-fangled, hung on uprights at the ends, 
 Willow baskets trimmed with ribbons in the way that fashion sends. 
 
 Did he choose a simple rocker ? No ; the newest patent thing, 
 With a clock-work-like attachment, by itself, alone, to swing, 
 Soon was purchased and delivered ; downy pillows put in place, 
 Baby ditto ; cradle wound up, started duly on its race. 
 
i So ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. * 
 
 " There, my darling, is a treasure, trust the baby to its care, 
 Take your leisure hour for practice, reading, calling anywhere. 
 O, you cunning little rascal ! He's more handsome every day ; 
 Wife, he's surely growing like me, more and more, in every way. 
 
 True he has your very dimple, smile, and eyes of azure blue — 
 Why, it cannot be you'r sighing ! What is the matter, dear, with 
 
 you ? " 
 " It's a very pretty cradle," — sadness mingled with her smile, 
 " And convenient, too, it must be ; " — What could cloud her face 
 
 the while ? 
 All went well until one morning, just before the dawn was grey, 
 When the Reverend Thomas Murry dreamed it was the judgment 
 
 day; 
 Dreamed that bells in all the steeples, and the clocks in every tower, 
 Mingled wild with Gabriel's trumpet, as of doom they clanged the' 
 
 hour, 
 
 Woke to hear a whirring, whizzing, burring, crashing sound in air, 
 Woke to see the cradle flying, with its precious burden there, 
 Round and round with fearful motion, kept by centripetal in place ; 
 " Stop it, stop it ! " screamed the mother; still went on the dreadful 
 
 pace. 
 Sprang the father, but most timely to receive a blow full sore, 
 And the gallant Thomas Murry measured length upon the floor ; 
 In an instant he had risen, quickly had regained his feet, 
 Just in time to see the baby, by centrifugal most fleet, 
 
 Flung out ! Heavens, the peril ! flying straight through line of space, 
 
 As if shot from loaded cannon, to the marble mantel-place. 
 
 Caught and saved ! The mother fainted — while upon the morning 
 
 air 
 Sounded out in glad thanksgiving, full and strong, the father's prayer. 
 Breakfast over, axe was plying, many blows it did not need 
 Quite to sever the " attachment." Now, then, Mary, we are freed 
 From all clock-work to our cradle." " O, it is much better so," 
 Said the mother placing baby on the pillows white as snow. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 181 
 
 Back and forth she swung the cradle, then it was her husband knew. 
 iWhy when all seemed going gaily, that portentous sigh she drew; 
 Knew that no machinery, no invention man-made patent e'er so good 
 To take place of loving mother, to rock baby, ever could. 
 Quiet reigned, as evening shadows o'er the ministerial home, 
 iBrooded dove like, and was broken but by Mary's crooning tone, 
 jAs she sang in soothing numbers, swaying cradle to and fro, 
 'The old hymn loved best by babies, sung by mothers long ago : 
 
 " Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 
 Holy angels guard thy bed ; 
 Heavenly blessings without number, 
 Cover thy defenceless head." 
 
 ROVER IN CHURCH. 
 
 James Buckham. 
 
 '^T^WAS a Sunday morning in early May, 
 
 1 A beautiful, sunny, quiet day, 
 And all the village, old and young, 
 Had trooped to church when the church bell runj 
 The windows were open, and breezes sweet 
 Fluttered the hymn-books from seat to seat. 
 Even the birds, in the pale-leaved birch 
 Sang as softly as if in church ! 
 
 Right in the midst of the minister's prayer 
 
 There came a knock at the door. " Who's there. 
 
 I wonder ? " the gray-haired sexton thought, 
 
 As nis careful ear the tapping caught. 
 
 Rap-rap, rap-rap — a louder sound, 
 
 The boys on the back seats turned around. 
 
 What could it mean ? for never before 
 
 Had any one knocked at the old church door. 
 
1 8 2 ELOC UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 
 
 Again the tapping, and now so loud, 
 
 The minister paused (though his head was bowed) 
 
 Rappety-rap ! This will never do ; 
 
 The girls are peeping, and laughing too ! 
 
 So the sexton tripped o'er the creaking floor, 
 
 Lifted the latch, and opened the door. 
 
 In there trotted a big black dog, 
 
 As big as a bear ! With a solemn jog 
 
 Right up the center aisle he pattered ; 
 
 People might stare, it little mattered. 
 
 Straight he went to a little maid, 
 
 Who blushed and hid, as though afraid, 
 
 And there sat down, as if to say : 
 
 " I'm sorry that I was late to-day ; 
 
 But better late than never, you know, 
 
 Besides, I waited an hour or so, 
 
 And couldn't gee them to open the door, 
 
 Till I wagged my tail and bumped the floor. 
 
 Now, little mistress, I'm going to stay, 
 
 And hear what the minister has to say." 
 
 The poor little girl hid her face, and cried ! 
 But the big dog nestled close to her side, 
 And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly, 
 Wondering what the matter could be ! 
 The dog being large (and the sexton small), 
 He sat through the sermon, and heard it all, 
 As solemn and wise as any one there, 
 With a very dignified, scholarly air ! 
 And instead of scolding, the minister said, 
 As he laid his hand on the sweet child's head, 
 After the service, " I never knew 
 Two better list'ners than Rover and you! w 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 183 
 
 THE COAL DIGGER. 
 
 Jessie F. O'Donnell. 
 
 IN a stifling pit a miner worked, 
 Beneath the light of the golden day, 
 Where the noisome gas snd fire-damp lurked, 
 Like stealthy beasts, in his narrow way. 
 
 Like a grimy Cyclops the miner seenjed, 
 One round eye throwing an evil light, 
 
 For the lamp on his forehead redly gleamed 
 In the shadowed depths of the pit's midnight. 
 
 He drove his pick in the mountain side, 
 
 To bring black jewels from the settings dim \ 
 
 The coal is the diamond unpurified, 
 A truth which never had come to him. 
 
 The wide-loving Father has taught in the coal 
 And flash of the gem, in substance the same, 
 
 The elements God-like dwell in each soul, 
 Though one has glory, and one has shame. 
 
 The miner but thought in his vague, dull way, 
 Of his fading wife and his children three, 
 
 And if there were bread for another day, 
 Since a soulless clod of the earth was he. 
 
 Of the giant trees he never thought, 
 
 Which once to the sun waved tufted heads, 
 
 Where the wondrous change had since been wrought 
 That formed the massive, rich coal-beds. 
 
 He did not know that once just there, 
 
 Great forests of ferns began to grow, 
 And spread their fronds to the tropic air, 
 
 For liis brain was dull and his fancy slow. 
 
184 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 'Neath his echoing blows the coal broke thro', 
 And burst from the solid, glistening wall ; 
 
 But he simply remembered the rent was due, 
 
 And would swallow the most of his earnings small. 
 
 A loaded car down the dark crept past, 
 
 Like a long, black hearse for a moment seen, 
 But never a glance the miner cast, 
 
 For what was he but a mere machine ? 
 
 And patiently dull the man toiled on 
 
 For home and children, and fading wife, 
 
 Till his limbs were cramped, and his strength was gone. 
 But he hardly dreamed of a fuller life. 
 
 One day the gas and the fire-damp grim, 
 Wild, hungry beasts that had waited long, 
 
 Leaped quick at his throat and throttled him 
 With the horrible might of their hatred strong. 
 
 And people read in a careless way, 
 
 When his stupid, poor heart strings lay chilled: 
 " A slight explosion occurred to-day, 
 
 But only a digger of coal was killed." 
 
 But I think in the spirit world he will learn 
 The beautiful things that escaped him here, 
 
 For the heart of the Father must surely yearn 
 O'er one condemned to an earth-life drear. 
 
 His brain will be filled, and his soul grow broad, 
 In the marvelous light of Heaven's day ; 
 
 It could never be meant by a loving God 
 That he should be always a lump of clay. 
 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 185 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 From " Marie Antoinette, " as played by Ristori. 
 
 \The morning of January 21, 1793. Chamber of the Queen in 
 ; the Temple. In the back a fire-place with a mirror, and clock with a- 
 pendulum. A door on the left in the coi'ner leading to the chamber 
 of Jlladame Elizabeth. An etitrance door and window, also on the 
 left. On the right a large screen concealing the bed of Maria An- 
 toinette. Before it the bed of the Dauphin. A small table, on which 
 is standing a light about going out. The fire hi the fire-place half 
 t extinguished. Two large easy-chairs, and some other chairs. The 
 Dauphin is asleep on his bed, covered with a coverlet. Madame 
 Royale is reclining at the foot of the bed in a large arm-chair, on the 
 side of which her head is resting. She is covered with a cloak, and 
 she also is asleep, although less tranquilly than her brothier. Marie 
 Antoinette and Madame Elizabeth are seated at the head of the bed, 
 the former holding the head of the latter upo?i her breast. ~\ 
 
 ELIZABETH. My sister, you are faint, exhausted ! you can 
 bear no more ! I have told you so ! Alas ! you are trembling 
 not only with grief, but with cold. Your limbs are rigid ! ^Cover- 
 ing her with her own mantle, .] 
 
 Antoinette. And you, sister ! 
 
 Eliz. Oh ! I — 
 
 Ant. Are you not cold ? 
 
 Eliz. A little, truly. It is always so when you do not sleep at 
 night — what shall we do ? I am sorry for you ! and now there is 
 no way of warming ourselves — the last of our fire is going out ! — 
 we have no more wood, and until eight o'clock there is no means 
 even of asking for any — 
 
 Ant. [Raising her head.] Eight o'clock ! 
 
 Eliz. If you had lain down a little, as I have begged you so 
 much to do — 
 
 Ant. Lie down in such a night as this, while he .' — and you, 
 dear, would have been able to do it ? would have wished it ? 
 
r 86 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Eliz. But i am stronger and younger ; I am not an invalid. 
 [Rising.] Wait, at least, until I bring your counterpane from the 
 bed, and your cloak, and cover you a little. 
 
 Ant. Do you not see them ? [Points to the counterpane, which, 
 besides his quilt, covers the Dauphin, and the cloak that protects 
 Madame Royale.] 
 
 Eliz. Poor mother ! — Well, take mine. 
 
 Ant. It is for you. But I thank you. [Rising.] Oh ! if it 
 was only a little cold. [Covers the Dauphin and Madam Royale 
 carefully.} It is enough if they do not suffer. I do not feel it; at 
 least, I forget it entirely. [ Walking rapidly and shaking herself, to 
 allow the blood to circulate.} Besides, I am hot; my brain is hot — 
 it burns — feel ! 
 
 Eliz. [After passing her hand over her forehead.} O God ! 
 this is fever. 
 
 Ant. No, no. [Slowly.] But what o'clock is it? Before mid- 
 night I counted the hours, but afterward fear seized me ; and while 
 you had retired for a little in your chamber I arrested the pendulum 
 which once announced to me the hour when we were accustomed to 
 meet all together in the dining-hall. I now — oh! if I had been 
 able thus to check the inexorable march of time. 
 
 Eliz. It cannot be far away from seven o'clock. 
 
 Ant. Seven o'clock ? 
 
 Eliz. Does not the dying wick of the candle seem to say so ? 
 
 Ant. Dying ! 
 
 Eliz. And then, have you not your beautiful watch suspended 
 to the bed behind the scene ? 
 
 Ant. I did not wind it up last evening. 
 
 Eliz. Wait ! [Goes to the window.] Yes ; the night is beginning 
 to pass away, the morning is dark, cold and cloudy, but a glimmer 
 of light begins to extend over that funeral drapery. The dawn of 
 the 2 1 st of January has come. 
 
 Ant. The day has come. 
 
 Eliz. Does it not seem to you, sister, that it would be well to 
 awaken our children ? 
 
 Ant. Awake them ! when nature has so much pity for childhood 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 187 
 
 '; as to allow them to sleep even over a bier — while sleep like a good 
 angel closes their eyes with her merciful wings ? Ah ! no ! no ! 
 
 Eliz. But if they should come to bid us descend to him ? Before 
 eight o'clock, he said. 
 
 Ant. Which means that at eight — although before that fatal hour. 
 : no one will come to lead us to the miserable condemned. 
 
 Eliz. What do you say ? 
 
 Ant. No one. Believe me. Oh ! he knew it, sister ; he knew 
 that we should never see him more, and he wished to leave us the 
 melancholy hope of delay, that we might survive this night. But 1 
 comprehend it well. I, who was surprised, convulsively clinging to 
 the door of the oratorio as if I could have forced my soul to pene- 
 trate it — the truth was revealed to me. In his words, in his looks, 
 in all his movements was the agony of the final separation. Ah ! 
 sister. [ Taking the medallion .] He did not wait until the moment 
 of his departure — for the scaffold — to place upon my breast this 
 precious memorial ; yesterday evening he gave it to me, and behold 
 what remains to me of him ! [Kisses it, and places it jealously upon 
 her breast.] 
 
 Eliz. Still, no ! I can not renounce the hope of a last embrace. 
 [Looking at the window, ,] The day has begun ; it is after seven, 
 [Putting out the light.'] Oh ! they will come. [She hears the key 
 turn in the entrance-door.] Ah ! They come ! They come ! 
 
 [Enter Simon.] 
 
 Ant. I" With a mixture of terror and eager curiosity .] Speak ! 
 
 Sim. Until midnight he remained shut up with his confessor. It 
 must be acknowledged that he had a good many sins on his con- 
 science ; but, no matter ! With four words and the sign of the cross, 
 the Catholic priest sent him to bed tranquil — as a Bourbon. He 
 slept placidly until morning; then he called his faithful servant, and 
 to finish with the King, he had himself well dressed and combed to 
 hear mass and take the communion. After that General Santerre 
 asked whether he would like to have his family descend. No, abso- 
 lutely no, he answered. I promised them, but now I no longer 
 belong to e.irth. I have taken the sacrament, and am ready to 
 depart. In fact, when I left him he was about parting. [A sudden 
 
1 88 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 beating of drums is heard, which makes the family tremble as they 
 stand clinging together in a mournful group.'] And there is the signal 
 of his departure. Viva the nation ! [Goes out rapidly, waving his 
 hat, and closing the door.] 
 
 Ant. [In agony.] He could have given us a last joy, and 
 would not! He has gone without a last salutation! [The first 
 alarm of the drums ceases, and a funeral march is heard, which 
 lasts for some moments, becoming always more distant. While these 
 doleful sounds, that vibrate mournfully upon the hearts of the prison- 
 ers, continue, they remain clasped in each others arms, as if they were 
 one body.] Let us pray. God of goodness ! God ! — [Sobs inter- 
 rupt their voices, and they cannot continue.] 
 
 , Mad. [ Who is kneeling in the centre of the group, makes an effort, 
 and, closing her eyes and joining her hands, continues thus the prayer 
 of the mother.] God of goodness ! God of mercy ! Assist in this 
 last moment the son of St. Louis, who has drunk the cup of gall, 
 who has carried your cross, and who now ascends your Calvary with 
 pardon on his lips. [A moment of silence, interrupted with sobs.] 
 Angels of the Lord, surround him, sustain him, receive the innocent 
 blood to preserve it for the Eternal! [As above.] Mother of sor 
 row ! Look with merciful eyes upon the desolate widow of the best 
 of kings, succor her, do not let her sink beneath this last blow ; in- 
 spire us with words of peace, of comfort, of resignation for her. 
 
 Ant. Ah ! you do not forget the last words of your father. 
 [Raising and embracing her tenderly.] You are my angel ! f With- 
 out uttering another word, they withdraw slowly to the bed, upon 
 which they sink in various attitudes, abandoned to their sorrow, which 
 is silent and profound. After a moment of silence they hear the door 
 open. Then they start up, looking at it with terror. ] 
 
 [Enter Malesherbes.] 
 
 Ant. Malesherbes! [All surround him respectfully.] 
 
 Eliz. Whence do you come, faithful friend, at this moment. 
 
 Mal. To fulfill a melancholy, a supreme duty, my dear. Yester- 
 day evening I promised the unhappy one that I would return to him 
 this morning, before eighty to receive his last words, the messages, 
 the salutations with which he would have intrusted me for his family. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 189 
 
 Ant. All ! You saw him at the last ? 
 
 Mal. At last I succeeded. 
 
 Eliz. O signer ! speak. 
 
 Mad. You are, then, the spirit of our father. 
 
 Dau. We listen. 
 
 Mal. \Taking a paper and presenting it to Marie Antoinette :] 
 This is for you, madam. It is his will. 
 
 Ant. [Receiving it and kissing it.] Ah ! for all ! 
 
 Eliz. And then ? 
 
 Mal. And then- — these were his words: Say to my poor wife, to 
 my dear children, to my good sister, that they must pardon me for 
 not having them call this morning. But it is because I do not feel 
 the strength to endure the agony of a second separation. Tell them 
 that I need all my strength to die like a Christian king. Ah ! Let 
 them not believe that I have wronged them ; and may they remem- 
 ber me and love me always. And if you, my dear Malesherbes, will 
 be near the platform where I hope to triumph in death, receive the 
 \ last words of Louis XVI, and bear them to his desolate family. 
 
 Ant. And what were they ? 
 
 Mad. We listen religiously. 
 
 Mal. I die innocent. I pardon the authors of my death, and 
 pray God that my blood may never fall again upon France. He 
 would have spoken still, but at a signal from Santerre the drums be- 
 I gan to beat. Louis XVI, faithful to his promise, in an instant had 
 triumphed over death! Ah! do not weep. He is much more 
 happy than we. 
 
 THE ERL-KONIG. 
 
 Arranged by Ma belle B. Biggart 
 
 [Eirst young lady reads. .] 
 
 THE fame of Franz Schubert is now an established fact, notwith- 
 standing that it has taken nearly half a century to infuse the 
 idea into public minds that he was something more than a song- 
 writer, — as if his acknowledged supremacy in the world of song were 
 
190 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 not enough to make him famous. It was only after the patient and 
 successful researches of Robert Schumann that even his own coun- 
 trymen began to inquire into the real merits of the composer of the 
 " P2rl-Konig," the " Lazerus," and the Grand Symphony in C. 
 
 One of the last assertions of the dying Beethoven was that " a 
 divine spark glows in Schubert." The latter, during his life-time, 
 never enjoyed a very wide reputation. At home, in Vienna, he was 
 esteemed as li a very able song-writer," and was, furthermore, looked 
 upon as an eccentric individual, whose only redeeming quality was 
 his homeliness, and whose highest moral characteristics were a certain 
 honesty and cleverness of disposition. 
 
 Of Schubert's vocal pieces there may_ be mentioned, first the 
 " Erl-Konig," set to Gothe's famous poem. It was composed one 
 winter afternoon at his father's house. It was completed amid 
 intense excitement. On the evening of the same day, Schubert 
 carried it to the hall, where it was rehearsed. Subsequently, after 
 undergoing several minor changes, Vogl claimed the ballad as pecu- 
 liarly suited to his own powers, and continued to sing it in concert 
 until his death. The "Erl-Konig" has now become the property 
 of the whole world. 
 
 Schubert had long desired to get hold of some one capable of 
 rightly interpreting his songs. Hitherto he had hummed them him- 
 self; but the desire seized him to secure Vogl, who, at the time, was 
 the court opera singer, having been raised to the position as early 
 as 1794. Indeed, it seemed of the utmost importance — to Schu- 
 bert at least — that they should meet. 
 
 One evening, the singer, whose voice was a rich, powerful bari- 
 tone, came to Schubert's apartment. The composer had been fore- 
 warned of his intended visit, but, somehow or other, had carelessly 
 forgotten the appointed hour. When the visitors arrived, Schubert 
 was nowhere to be found ; and several minutes elapsed before he 
 made his appearance. Elbowing right and left, and all the while 
 muttering out something in his stammering speech, he managed to 
 open the door. The three went in. and found the room pitch dark. 
 The host lighted a lam]) as hurriedly as possible ; while Vogl, not at 
 all disconcerted by the oddity that marked their first interview, 
 
EL C UTIONAR Y STUDIES. 1 9 1 
 
 j ^advanced towards the table, and, taking up a sheet of music-paper, 
 
 ■j began to hum the song "Augenlied." Was he pleased with it ? No, 
 nor did the others which he tried appear to suit him any better. 
 
 Before they parted for the night, he tapped Schubert upon the 
 
 shoulder, and exclaimed : " You have got some of the real stuff in 
 
 you, but not enough of the actor or of the charlatan. You lavish 
 
 wastefully your good thoughts, instead of allowing them to develop." 
 
 To Schubert this appeared the most unkind cut that he had ever 
 
 j received ; still he was not angry, but tried hard to smother the sen- 
 sitive emotions that welled up in his soul. Neither was Vogl more 
 than half in earnest in what he had spoken. A wider accmaintance 
 
 j induced him to cherish very favorable opinions, and he soon ascer- 
 
 ,1 tained the real value of the songs. 
 
 j Vogl sang the " Erl-Konig " at a concert in the Karnthner Thea- 
 
 jl tre. The ballad was encored with immense applause. Thenceforth 
 the song had a rapid sale ; and the publishers, who had not so much 
 as issued the piece at their own expense, began to hold it up as 
 theirs in the best of humor, and wondered why, in their miserly 
 stupidity, they had not been able to detect " rising genius " sooner. 
 As was just, Schubert, too, was in the best of spirits, inasmuch as 
 'he found himself the recipient of a few precious ducats, with the 
 prospect of securing still more, both public and private ; and 
 already he began to be known abroad as one of the greatest of 
 song-writers. 
 
 Schubert profited largely by his intercourse with Vogl, and found 
 him a true friend and adviser in his musical studies. The latter 
 could always claim the honor of having introduced the young man 
 to the artistic world. After Schubert's death, the old court-singer, 
 already in his sixty-third year, continued to sing the songs of his 
 former protege, in the private circles of Vienna. 
 
 Although perfect strangers to one another, Schubert had always 
 exhibited a natural fondness for the poetical effusions of Goethe. 
 It was the ardent wish of the composer to glorify in sound the 
 beautiful words of the poet. He had caught the inspiration and 
 the necessary feeling. Who will deny that the best melodies that 
 Schubert ever wrote are wedded to the delineations of his fond idol ? 
 
1 92 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, the two great men never met. The 
 doors of the poet's house were always open ; and from the heart of 
 the master came the word, " Welcome." But Schubert was modest 
 and shy. He dared not face him whose trials and triumphs were 
 everywhere known. He had not the courage, even when holding 
 in his hands the manuscript of the " Erl-Konig," to approach the 
 author of the words, and greet him in friendship as a fellow-artist. 
 
 In the month of April, 1830, the famous Schroder-Devrient, on 
 her way to Paris, made a brief stay at Weimar, and was there intro- 
 duced to Goethe. After dinner, she was asked to sing for the 
 amusement of the company. Among other selections, she rendered 
 the " Erl-Konig," and infused into it a goodly amount of her dra- 
 matic power and sweetness. The effect was grand in the extreme ; 
 and Goethe (now in the last years of his life), with tears rolling down 
 his eyelids, rushed towards the brilliant singer, kissed her forehead 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 " Thanks, a thousand thanks ! for this grand artistic performance. 
 I once heard this composition before, but I did not like it then ; now 
 your execution has made for me the picture complete." 
 
 Poor Schubert ! With what unbounded delight would he not have 
 hailed this glorious utterance from the lips of the greatest of German 
 poets. 
 
 The "Erl-Konig" is a mischievous and malignant being in the 
 mythology of the ancient Germans. This piece is the opening of 
 "Die Fischerin," one of Goethe's operas. At an advanced hour 
 of a quiet, dark evening, the fisherman's daughter, impatiently 
 awaiting the arrival of her father and her lover, is made to sing this 
 song for a pastime. 
 
 The poem will now be recited in German, by Miss . 
 
 [Second young lady recites.] 
 
 SBer reitet fo foftt butch ftacfit urtb SBinb? 
 @§ tft ber SSatet rrttt feinem JHitb; 
 (£r fiat ben ^rtafien roofil in bent 2ltm, 
 @r fajjt ifin, fidjer, er fiiilt ifin roarm. 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 193 
 
 5[Rem ©ofm, toa§ Birgft bu fo Bang bein ®efidjt? — 
 (Stel&ft, $ater, bu ben (Mtonig nid)t ? 
 SDe\. $tlenfonig rnit ^ron' unb ©d)tt>eif ? 
 $ftem ©oljn, e§ ift ein 91eBeIftreif. — 
 
 „®u lieBeg $inb, lomm, gel) mit mit ! 
 „©ar fd)one ©niele \pieV id) mit bit ; 
 „9ftand) Bunte 33Iumen finb an bem ©tranb, 
 „9)teine Gutter tjat mand) giilben ©etoanb." — 
 
 9Mn 3)ater, ntein SSater, unb ^oxeft bu nidjt, 
 2Ba§ (Menfbnig mir leife berfprtdjt % — 
 ©ei rut)ig, BleiBe rutjig, mein JHnb ; 
 $n biirren Slattern faufelt ber SBinb. — 
 
 „2Bittft, feiner $naBe, bu mit mir ger)n ? 
 aJleine £od)ter f often bid) marten fd)bn; 
 „ s IFceine Xod)ter fiifjren ben nacrjttictjen fRet^tt 
 f ,Unb miegen unb tan^en unb fingen bid) ein."— 
 
 'UTtein 35ater, mein 33ater, unb fietjft bu nid)t bort 
 (Mfonig§ £od)ter am biiftern Ort? — 
 9Jtein ©ofm, mein ©oljn, id) fet)' e§ genau : 
 @§ fd)einen bie alien 3Beiben fo grau. — 
 
 „$d) lieBe bid), mid) reigt beine fdjime ©eftatt; 
 „llnb Bift bu nid)t millig, fo Braud)' id) ©ematt." — 
 SKein 25ater, mein $ater, jetjt fafjt er mid) an ! 
 (£rtfonig Bjat mir ein Seib§ gettjau ! — 
 
 S)em SSater graufef*, er reitet gefd)minb, 
 6r TEjatt in SIrmen ba§ adj^enbe .n*inb, 
 (Srreidjt ben t ^of mit 'JDIitrje unb 9tottj; 
 $n feinen airmen ba§ $inb war tobt. 
 
 [In case the reader cannot read the poem in the original, she may read the 
 English version. A good effect may be made also by reading it both in German 
 and in English, E/t.her by the second young lady or by a third. The playing of 
 Schubert's music by another young lady, would heighten the effect still more. 
 The translation is on the next page.] 
 
*94 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 THE ERL-KING. TRANSLATION. 
 
 Who rideth so late through the night-wind wild ? 
 It is the father with his child. 
 He has the little one well in his arm ; 
 He holds him safe, and he folds him warm. 
 
 My son, why hidest thy face so shy ?— 
 Seest thou not, father, the Erl-King nigh ? 
 
 The Erlen King, with train and crown ? 
 
 It is a wreath of mist, my son. 
 
 " Come, lovely boy, come, go with me ; 
 Such merry plays I will play with thee ; 
 Many a bright flower grows on the strand, 
 And my mother has many a gay garment at hand." 
 
 My father, my father, and dost thou not hear 
 What the Erl-King whispers in my ear ?— 
 Be quiet, my darling, be quiet, my child ; 
 Through withered leaves the wind howls wild. 
 
 " Come, lovely boy, wilt thou go with me ? 
 My daughters fair shall wait on thee ; 
 My daughters their nightly revels keep ; 
 They'll sing, and they'll dance, and they'll rock thee to sleep." 
 
 My father, my father, and seest thou not 
 
 The Erl-King's daughters in yon dim spot ?— 
 
 My son, my son, I see and I know 
 
 'Tis the old gray willow that shimmers so. 
 
 " I love thee ; thy beauty has ravished my sense ; 
 And, willing or not, I will carry thee hence."— 
 O father, the Erl-King now puts forth his arm ! 
 O father, the Erl-King has done me harm ! 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 195 
 
 The father shudders ; he hurries on ; 
 And faster he holds his moaning son ; 
 He reaches his home with fear and dread, 
 And, lo ! in his arms the child was dead. 
 
 MME. EEF. 
 
 MONSIEUR Adam was all alone in ze garden. He have plenty 
 for eat and plenty for drink and ees very comfortable, but he 
 'ave not much clothes. 
 
 Von evening he lie down on ze ground for take a nap. In ze 
 morning he wake viz pain in his side. 
 
 He say : " Oh, mon Dieu, vat ees ze mattair, eh. ? Ah ! le Diable, 
 ees von rib gone ! I shall take un promenade in ze open air. I 
 shall feel bettaire." 
 
 He promenade. Mme. Eef she approach. It is ze first lady zat 
 M. Adam have ever met; it ees Mme. Eef's first entree to society. 
 They approach each other and both are very much attract. M. 
 Adam, he say : " Madame, shall I 'ave ze plaisair for promenade viz 
 you ? " 
 
 Mme. Eef respond, *' I shall be most happy," and they valk to- 
 gether. 
 
 They promenade under an arbre ; un arbre viz ze pretty appel on 
 it ; ze pretty appel viz ze red streak. 
 
 Monsieur le Serpent he sit up in ze arbre. He 'ave pretty mask 
 all over hees face — look like elegant gentilhomme. 
 
 Madame Eef she see Monsieur le Serpent viz ze pretty mask and 
 ze appel viz ze red streak, and she ees very much attract. 
 
 Monsieur le Serpent he say, " Madame Eef, shall I 'ave ze plaisair 
 for peek you un appel ? " 
 
 Madame Eef she reach out her hand for take ze appel. 
 
 Monsieur Adam he say : " Hola ! hola ! voila ! Vat you do, eh ? 
 Do you not know ees prohibit ? You must not touch ze appel ! If 
 
196 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. ' 
 
 you eat ze appel you shall become like un Dieu — you shall know . 
 good from ze evil ! " 
 
 Monsieur le Serpent he take un pinch of snuff. He say : " Moi 
 sieur Adam, ees prohibit for, you. If you eat ze appel you shr 
 become like un Dieu — you shall know ze good from ze evil. B: 
 Madame Ke( — Madame Eef — she cannot become more of a godde; 
 zan she ees now." 
 
 And zat finish Madame Eef. 
 
 THEY DON'T AGREE. 
 
 Q ] 
 
 WHAT HE THINKS OF HER : 
 
 'HE'S lovely ! Her eyes are as blue as 
 
 The dear little flower that shone 
 
 In the grass at the end of the summer — 
 
 What its name is I never have known ; 
 And her hair's quite unique in this age of 
 
 The fluffy, with curls bright and crisp ; 
 And her voice — why, it's simply delicious 
 
 To hear her sweet infantile lisp ; 
 And her blush is divine ; and her smile is 
 
 So artless that really she seems 
 To me like the angelic maidens 
 
 That sometimes we meet in our dreams. 
 
 WHAT HIS SISTER THINKS : 
 
 1 declare lean see nothing in her 
 Short ringlets, like coils of red wire, 
 
 Or the smile she's eternally wearing 
 Or her baby blue eyes, to admire ; 
 
 And her lisp, how absurdly it strikes me 
 'Twould be useless to try to express, 
 

 Doir, 
 
 ■ Mb 
 *l.vou 
 ■e evil. 
 
 'Hi sad 
 
 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 But if /in that way were afflicted 
 I'd shun every word with an " S ; " 
 
 And in spite of her innocent blushes 
 And dimples she can't deceive me, 
 
 For I 1 know her to be just as artful 
 As any young woman could be. 
 
 197 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 J. S. Fletcher. 
 
 NOW that I am dying, mate, so fetch the Bible here, 
 vVhat's laid unopened in the chest for five-and-twenty year; 
 
 bring a light along of you, and read a bit to me ; 
 (have n't heard a word of it since first I came to sea. 
 
 five- and-twenty year, lad, since she went to her rest 
 Ifo put that there old Bible at the bottom of my chest; 
 • 1 I can well remember the words she says to me : 
 ow, don't forget to read it, Tom, when you get out to sea." 
 
 j;d I never thought about it, mate, for it clean slipped from my 
 head ; 
 
 t when 1 come from my first voyage, the dear old girl was dead. 
 
 id the neighbors told me, while I stood still as still can be, 
 
 iat she prayed for me and blessed me, as was just gone out to sea # 
 
 nd then I shipped again, mate, and forgot the Bible there, 
 or I never gave a thought to it, a-sailing everywhere ; 
 ,; now that I am dying you can read a bit to me, 
 lS seems to think about it, now I'm ill and down at sea. 
 
 •id find a little prayer, lad, and say it up right loud, 4 
 
 that the Lord can hear it if it finds Him in a crowd. 
 
i 9 8 ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 I can scarce hear what you're saying for the wind that howb to lee; 
 But the Lord '11 hear above it all, for He's been out at sea. 
 
 It's set in very dark, mate, and I think I'll say good-night, 
 
 But stop — look there ! why, mate, why, Bill, the cabin's turning 
 
 light ; 
 And the dear old mother's standing there as gave the book to me ! 
 All right ; I'm coming ! Bill, good-bye ! My soul's going out to sea. 
 
 MRS. PIPER. 
 
 Marian Douglas 
 
 MRS. Piper was a widow — " Oh, dear me ! 
 This world is not at all," she said, " the place it used to be 
 Now my poor husband, he was such a good man to provide — 
 I never had the leastest care of anything outside ! 
 But now, 
 
 Why, there's the cow, 
 
 A constant care, and Brindle's calf I used to feed when small, 
 And those two Ayrshire heifers that we purchased in the fall — 
 Oh, dear ! 
 
 My husband sleeping in the grave, it's gloomy being here ! 
 The oxen Mr. Piper broke, and four steers two year old, 
 The blind mare and the little colt, they all wait to be sold ! 
 For how am I to keep 'em now ? and yet how shall I sell ? ' 
 
 And what's the price they ought to bring, how can a woman tell ? 
 Now Jacob Smith, he called last night, and staid till nine o'clock, 
 And talked and talked, and talked and talked, and tried to buy my stock 
 He said he'd pay a higher price than any man in town ; 
 He'd give his note, or, if I chose, he'd pay the money down. 
 But, there ! 
 To let him take those creeturs off, I really do not dare ! 
 
ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 199 
 
 J ? Or^'S a lying world, and men are slippery things at best; 
 My poor dear husband in the ground, he wasn't like the rest ! 
 But Jacob Smith's a different case ; if 1 would let him, now, 
 ^erhaps he'd wrong me on the horse, or cheat me on the cow ; 
 \.nd so 
 : do not dare to trust him, and I mean to answer ' No.' " 
 
 Jvtrs. Piper was a widow — " Oh, dear me ! 
 \ single woman with a farm must fight her way," said she. 
 ' Of everything about the land my huoband always knew ; 
 never felt, when he was here, I'd anything to do ; 
 But no*, 
 
 /Vhat fields to plow, 
 
 \.nd how much hay I ought to cut, and just what crops to sow, 
 \nd what to tell the hired men, how can a woman know ? 
 Dh, dear ! 
 
 •Vith no strong arm to lean upon, it's lonesome being here ! 
 Vow Jacob Smith, the other night, he called on me again, 
 \nd talked and talked, and talked and talked, and staid till after ten ; 
 rle said he'd like to take my farm, to buy it or to lease — 
 [ do declare, I wish that man would give me any peace ! 
 For, there ! 
 
 To trust him with my real estate I truly do not dare ; 
 For, if he buys it, on the price he'll cheat me underhand ; 
 \nd, if he leases it, I know he will run out the land ; 
 \nd, if he takes it at the halves, both halves he'll strike for then. 
 tt's risky work when women folk have dealings with the men ! 
 \nd so 
 f do not dare to trust him, and I mean to answer ' No.' " 
 
 *'< 
 
 Mrs. Piper was a widow — " Oh dear me ! 
 
 let I have still some mercies left ; I won't complain," said she. 
 
 My poor, dear husband knows, I trust, a better world than this ; 
 Tvvere sinful selfishness in me to grudge him heaven's bliss ! 
 >o now, 
 > ought to bow 
 
2oo ELOCUTIONARY STUDIES. 
 
 Submissively to what is sent — not murmur and repine; 
 
 The hand that sends our trials has, in all, some good design. 
 
 Oh, dear ! 
 
 If we knew all, we might not want our buried lost ones here ! 
 
 And Jacob Smith, he called last night, but it was not to see 
 
 About the cattle or the farm, but this time it was me ! 
 
 He said he prized me very high, and wished I'd be his wife, 
 
 And if I did not he should lead a most unhappy life. 
 
 He did not have a selfish thought, but gladly, for my sake, 
 
 The care of all my stock and farm he would consent to take- 
 
 And, there ! 
 
 To slight so plain a Providence I really do not dare ! 
 
 He'll take the cattle off my mind, he'll carry on the farm — 
 
 I haven't since my husband died had such a sense of calm ! 
 
 I think the man was sent to me — a poor lone woman must, 
 
 In such a world as this, I feel, have some one she can trust ; 
 
 And so 
 
 I do not feel it would be right for me to answer < No. 5 " .