LEWIS'S
READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
LEWIS\S
ffllCS Mi HCITl
m
ADAPTED FOR
PUBLir A\D PiJlVATE KXTEUTALNMENT.-i,
WITH
Hints and Sug-g-esiions on (Puhlio I^eauding ; Lead-
ing words marked, and Explanatory J^otes to the
Selections, for the guidance of the Ifeader.
BY RICHARD LEWIS,
TKACUKR or KLOCfTIOV. .AITIIOR OF THE " DOMIMOX KIaXUTIoMST."
i^MMl
TORONTO :
BEIJ ORD BROS., PUIUTSIIKRS.
MDCOCLXXVT.
En I ereu according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada,
in the year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy-six,
by Bedford Bros., in the office of the Minister of Agri-
V culture.
CONTENTS.
Hints and Suggestions 9-43
The Legend of the Angel .,., 44-57
The Changed .**... 58-60
Philip, my King 61, 62
Ramon 63-65
The Conversion of Colonel Quagg ^^» 66-73
Mrs. Poyser's Opinions . . . ... .V* *^*»v... 74-77
Lost and Found 77~8i
tian s rSaby .»,.,,,, , , , , » , , , ,^ , . . . 82
Without the Children , , 83, 84
The Yam of the " Nancy Bell" 84-88
The Murder of Nancy 89-100
A wSocial Science Valentine loi, 102
John Brown 103- 105
** Curfew must not Ring To-night" io6~i lo
An Angel in the House ^, 1 1 1
Poor Little Joe 1 12-1 14
"Do this in Remembrance of Me" 115 117
A Layman's Confession of Faith 117. 1 18
Widder Green's Last Words 119, 120
The Story of the Faithful Soul 121 -124
At the Church Gate 125, 126
Tying her Bonnet under her Chin 126, 127
Vergiss-Mein-Nicht 128, 129
The Cane-bottom'd Chair 130-132
The Souls of the Children * i^-?- i^e
Creeds of the Bells '35 '37
An Old Bachelor : 1 38
The Treasure of Hope 139, 140
Dear Little Hand 140, 141
Fine Brown Stout 14 1 143
^' CONTENTS.
Madness
The Spanish Jew's Tale * 145-147
Childhood , .. o
The Happiest Land ,^^^ ,^^
I he Relief of Lucknow izi-ica
Whiter than .ow ' * ' ' ' lU ilj
Ho-Ho of the Golden Belt .....''.... 157-162
Immortality ^
The Wager and the Bali 16-179
xMy Heroine— A True Storv 170 iSi
The Daughter ,3 g
J"^'yO"^, ,, .83, ,84
Virginia— A Lay of Ancient Rome i8q-iQ2
Her Letter .... "'J^
'93-195
Thady Delany on the Census. . . , 196 200
EXPLANATION OF MARKS.
Vll
EXPLANATION OF MARKS USED IN THIS
( ') Rising inflection, marked over the word.
( ' ) Falling inflection.
C Circumflex inflections.
/^a/fcs— Emphasis on the italic word.
Small CAPiXALS-Stronger emphasis than italics.
( I ) Pause.
BOOK.
If
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS.
Articulation, the utterance of letters, is the first
essential of success in public reading or speaking.
Words are fomied of vowels and consonants, and
every letter, if not silent, must be heard. Inexperienced
and defective readers attend to words but neglect
letters, and the result follows that they are not
*• heard,'' that is, they are not understood. Unfinished
words crowd upon each other, the voice is heard, but
the words are unintelligible.
The student of reading must then pay the best
attention to the complete utterance of every letter in
each word. In music, expression is secured by pro-
longing the vowels. Vowels are necessary to the
music of speech, and purity, fullness, and power or
tone are acquired and accomplished by their aid.
But in speaking, consonants play as important a
part as vowels, and expression and distinct utterance
are more due to the right management and finished
delivery of certain consonants than of vowels. The
vocalist frequently neglects the consonants and we
only hear sounds destitute of meaning, and therefore
of expression 3 but good music and a well-cultivated
voice enable us to tolerate such defects. The elocu-
tionist, however, knows that not only does the mean-
10 lewis's READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
ing of what he speaks depend upon a full and finished
utterance of each consonant, but also all the effect oi
earnest expression. This is especially the case with
the right use of the liquids /, ;;/, ;/, ng ana r. These
letters can be prolonged in sound, inflected and
delivered in the tremulous and tender tones of pathos,
or with the fiercest energy of passion.
For the complete utterance of consonants two
conditions must be observed, (i.) The vocal organs,
the tongue, hps, teeth, and the muscles of the mouth
must be prepared and fixed for the utterance of
the letter. (2.) The actic of utterance must be
performed by the applicatn-rii of breath or voice,
controlled as it flows by the position of the vocal
organs. These two efforts produce sounds, and
the sounds will be thosi of the letters we com-
bine in words. But the completion of the action
which finishes the word and makes it be heard is
accomplished by restoring the organs to their first
or normal condition. Now every one succeeds in the
first two actions ; the organs are fixed for speaking,
the breath acts on the vocal chords and a sound is
heard. But the defect that marks the great majority
is that of neglecting to finish the sound and restoring
the organs to their first condition ; and hence the
defective delivery of so many readers and speakers.
We hear the voice but we cannot understand the
speech. TIius, in uttering the word " rob," the r is
finished because the organs have to change their
position for the **^/' But in sounding the d the
speaker first presses his lips for the necessary position ;
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS, ■ 11
but after he has produced the sound, he fails to com-
plete it by re-opening the lips, and instead of rob we
only have raw.
Every consonant should be distinctly and clearly
uttered and finished. To acquire facility in such
utterance the student should sound the letters of each
word separately, as in the phonetic system, and with
great energy.
Thus, in the word acquire^ first the mouth is well
opened to send out the vowel sound of ^, then the
back of the tongue is brought into contact with the
posterior part of the palate ; the moment the cq (=k)
is sounded the tongue is shot forth to its natural posi-
tion and the lips are protruded to sound the u (=w);
then when the / is sounded the tongue is curled
upwards at the tip, the breath is passed over it until
it vibrates and r is sounded. Thus, the letters really
sounded (not named) are a k w i r. Practice of this
kind should be frequent until the student can utter
the sound of any letter in a word with precision and
power. K
Another method for this purpose is to sound
syllables backwards, which induces habits of careful-
ness in sounding them forwards. Thus, a " powerful
government is respected," read backwards — ted-pec-
res is ment-vern-go (gu) ful-er-pow a.
Some consonants can be prolonged like vowels, but
others have to be finished at once as their prolonga-
tion would have a harsh effect upon the ear. The
liquids w, f/, /, ng and r can be prolonged and inflect-
ed, and when the reader or speaker wishes to stamp a
12 lewis's readings and recitations.
word with impressiveness, it is on these letters his
voice dwells. Thus in the following words : —
** Into the mouth of He//
Rode the six hundred."
In the first line the greatest force of voice is thrown
into the I of Heil, and in the second line, the voice
rests for a moment on the n ol hundred.
But all the other consonants must be finished at
once, and when we wish to give force to the word in
which they occur we must dwell on the vowel as in
r^de, and snap off with suddenness the consonant, as
d in rode.
THE breath.
As all speech is produced by breath, its constant
supply and right management are indispensable. All
diseases of the throat which are supposed to arise
from over-exertion are due to the wrong management
of the breath. Speakers fail in supplying breath
enough to the iungs ; others pour out breath wh^m
inhaled before they speak and then endeavour to
speak with lungs nearly empty ; others pour out
breath with greater force than they exercise the organs
of speech which act on the breath ; all, by such de-
fective methods of speaking, seriously injure the throat
and produce the worst kind of voice.
The iungs must never be exhausted. Much breath
should be drawn in and but little given out and ah
that is given out should be converted into sound.
Sore throat arising from too much speaking is caused
thus : — The speaker first inhales the air; then, prepar-
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 13
. ing to speak, he lets out a portion of that air in breath
which ought only to issue in pure sound. Anxious to
be heard he drives the breath '.rough the wind-pipe
with great force, but does not re-act on the wind-pipe
by the action of the mouth with equal force. Tlie
natural result is that the wind-pipe is pushed upwards,
until by repeated mismanagement the clerical sore
throat (dysphonia clericorum) is produced.
The prevention is simple. Never give out any
breath when speaking but what shall be converted
into sound, and always use the organs of the mouth
with an energy equal to that used in expelling the
breath to speak. The mouth organs then control and
counteract the force of the limgs and trachea.
The following exercises are recommended to all who
aspire to the possession of a good speaking voice.
They enlarge the chest, act upon the remotest cells of
the lungs, give tone, purity, and strength to the voice,
and are most beneficial to general health. They
should be practised in the morning before eating, and,
if possible in the open air, and repeated in the even-
ing:—
EXERCISES TO CONTROL THE BREATH.
I. Stand er**'* '^e shoulder's thrown back, tha arms
a kimbo .id the ha. ' ' '•'*Rting on the loins ; keep the
head erect but not stiff. Draw in the breath slowly
through the nostrils until the lungs are filled to their
utmost extent. Then slowly and silently send out
breath in a straight column through tlie open mouth.
Repeat from six to twelve times.
14 lewis's readings and recitations,
II. Inhale as before and expel the breath audibly but
not with any explosive effort. Repeat as above.
III. Inhale as before, hold on a moment, then
expel with force as if shouting who in a whisper to
some one at a distance. Repeat as before.
IV. Inhale as before, then drive out the breath
in an abrupt and forcible cough, as if sounding the
letter // with great and audible violence. Repeat.
V. Ih ale as before. Send out the breath in
forcible jets until the lungs are exhausted. Repeat.
VI. Praqjice the above exercise in the following
way : — Send out two forcible whispers of the letter a
(as in rtrrm), but let the third sound be vocal, /.
elevating the tongue to the palate when it should
lie slightly curved at the base of the mouth, its
elevation driving the voice through the nose when it
should be poured straight through the mouth • and
the monotony is due to the neglect of pitch and in-
flection.
training the voice.
Pure Tones. — Sit before a mirror so that the light
shall fall on the back of the mouth. Endeavoui to
raise the palate and the uvula, the little tongue, thai
hangs down towards the wind-pipe, and depress the
base or back part of the tongue so as to make a
visible opening down the throat. In other words,
think you are going to gape. When the student has
succeeded in this preparation let him slowly sound
the vowels a in arm, aiiji\ o in t(?nc.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 17
Repeat this exercise many times with the vowels
following each other in this order : —
aa ~ o - a - 00 - ee
aa as in arm.
as in t'^w / "
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 21
Here again practise on the vowels and on single
words, as arm, fly ^ die, charge, &c., &c.
This effort of voice is necessary to all expressions of
alarm, great and excited command, and all lively and
sparkling expressions as the " O then I see, queen
Mab has been with you," of Shakspeare.
Medium Stress. — In this exercise let the sound
begin gently, then gradually swell to its fullest power,
then die or taper off to a fine point. It is the effort
of voice demanded in all solemn and pathetic de-
livery. It is unappropriate to sudden and excited
passion ; it is more suita^Je to calm and lofty poetry,
to prayer, and to all compositions of a meditative and
thoughtful character. It is, however, so impressive
and frequently demanded in elocution, that the
student should practice more diligently to acquire its
use than on any other quality of voice. Let the
practice be frequent on the vowels — frequent, full and
clear ; let the vowel practice be followed as usual
with the exercise on words, then on sentences, taking
the greatest care to lengthen the elements, that is the
letters of the words, whenever they can be prolonged.
Appropriate passages may be found in Milton, the
Psalms, the Prophecies, and all solemn poetry. The
following will serve as an example : —
•* From that chamber clothed in white
The bride came forth on her wedding night. •
There in that silent room below
The dead lay in his shroud of snow ;
And in the hush that followed the prayer.
Was heard the old clock on the stair.
Forever — never,
Never— forever." — Lon%fdlow,
22 lewis's readings and recitations.
Vanishing Stress. — Here the force ends the
word. Let the student begin rather gently, then
suddenly burst on the final sound with the greatest
vehemence : —
** And Douglas, more I tell thee heref
Even in thy pitch of pride ;
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,
I tell thee thou'rt defied.
And if thou saidst I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland heic,
Lowland or highland, far or near,
Lord Angus thou hast LIED !"
Thorough stress is similar to the organ tone in
music. It may be defined as that effort of voice
which combines the th/ee previous exercises, Radical^
Medium and Vanishing stress. The effort commences
with explosive force and the energy is sustained to the
last. It is used and heard in such exclamations as
the following : —
Boat ahoy ! Ship ahoy ! Fire^ Fire /
Rejoice you men of Anglers^ ring your bells I
King jfohfty your king and Englamfs doth approach.
Open your gates and give the victor's sway."
Princes / Potentates !
Warriors ! the flower of heaven ! once yours, now losL
If such astonishment as this can seize eternal spirits,
Awake I arise, or be forever fallen I
Tremor of voice, in music tremolo. This is a
difficult but very valuable function of the voice. It
is an indication of age, and in excess it is exercised in
mimicry. Its better use is to denote pathos, the
f HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 23
expression of emotion bordering on tears. It is heard
in great passion when the voice trembles with emo-
tion. In some respects it is like the " shake " in
music, with this difference, that in music the shake
requires an alternate change of pitch ; but the speak-
ing tremor is like a gurgling in the throat. Dr. Rush
describes it as consisting of abrupt impulses or tittles
of momentary intervals : —
Pity the sorrows of a pooi old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door.
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span.
Oh I give relief, and heaven will bless your store.
'* Oh ! I have lost you all !
Parents and home and friends.
In these and all vocal exercises, the caution must
be repeated that the student must never use undue
force, any violence which irritates the throat. The
first effort should be with moderate force, as facility
of execution is acquired, increase of force may follow,
PITCH.
The elevation or depression of the voice is neces-
sary to all expression. It is the light and shade of
speech, and its practice is one of the means of culti-
vating Uie ear, as necessary to good reading as to
music. The reading of an untrained voice is marked
by a dull and inexpressive monotdhy. A cultivated
reader, on the contrary, varies the modulations of his
voice according to the variations and character of the
sentiments he is uttering. The principles on which
24 lewis's readings *and recitations.
these changes, so agreeable and natural, are made,
are consistent and uniform, and can be applied by
the intelligent student ; but he must first possess tlie
vocal power and cultivated ear to give the proper
intonation, and to know that he is giving it right.
Every voice in a healthy condition can produce the
sounds of the gamut ; and a week's practice aided
by a musical instrument would enable most persons
to distinguish one sound from another, a high from a
low pitch. In speaking, the voice never requires a
greater range than one octave, that is counting one
for the lowest note it can conveniently sounds and
ascending eight notes. This is called the compass J
the speaking voice, and the following practice is
recommended : — Let the student sound the lowest
note in his power, guided if possible either by an
instrument or viva voce — by a human voice. When
he has reoeated the sound several times, let him read
a line of poetry on that note, neither ascending or
descending. Then let him try the next note in
ascent in the same manner ; and so on until the
I'lighest note has been reached. He may then des-
cend by a similar metliod. The next process would
be to sound the middle or half-way note, read a line
upon it then leap to the highest, then descend to the
lowest, guiding himself by the instrument until facility
and correctness were acquired.
The practice should be congest on the middle or
half-way notes. With tenor voices these notes, called
the dominant, lie on A or B, and the bass voice on
EorF.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. ' 25
The following form will serve for su 'i practice :—
PITCH.
Begin low and ascend to the end, then begin high
md descend.
Do C. The waves are high, the night is dark,
Re D. Wild roars the foaming tide,
Mi E. Dashing around the straining bark,
Fa F. As gallantly she rides.
Sol G. " Pilot ! take heed what course you steer ;
La A. Our bark is tempest driven ! "
Si B. ** Stranger, be calm, there is no fear.
Do C For him who trusts in Heaven !"
This IS not to be sung or even chanted, but read
in a monotone or loud tone. The reader may select
any passages for such practice, understanding that
this method is not the natural mode of delivering the
above or any passage, but it is the best mode tc
icquire facility of transition.
INFLECTION.
This is the most difficult branch of elocution to
master, and probably the most important. The prac-
dee in pitch is a preparation for inflection. The eat
must be cultivated as well as the voice to distinguish
the variation of voice. Some writers have said that
X musical ear is not necessary to expressive reading.
But it is impossible to read weP without modulations
and inflections, and the varied tones must depend on
ind be in harmony with the sense of the sentiment.
As the best readers never fail to give the right modu-
20 lewis's readings and recitations.
lation and always give the same modulation to the
same passage, they must be guided by the ear, and
therefore they must have a musical ear. That ear
may be acquired by, all as the variations are few and
do not range beyond one register, that is, from the
lower to the higher musical Do,
The following practice is recommended : — Sound
the lower Do and Re separately, then slide or slur
from Do to Re. (2.) Sound Do and Mi, and again
slide without a break from Do to ML Proceed in
the same way from Do to Fa, from Do to Sol, and so
on to the higher Do. Then descend from Do to Si,
from Do to La, from Do to Sol, until the voice can
sweep easily without break through the octave. A
violin will illustrate this practice admirably when the
student fails in getting a competent instructor.
The practice for the inflection is best conducted on
the vowels a (in f^r) awe and in t^ne. It may also
be exercised and should be on/, m, ;/, ng. When the
student has acquired facility of inflection with the
elements, let him apply the practice to the following
v/ords, keeping the voice on a sort of level tone until
he comes to the words in italics :
Rising in/lection-^
May I stay here f
Are you si'ck ?
Are you 7o'el/ ?
Are you nid^l ?
Any questions that can be answered by " yes " or
•* no " take this inflection.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 27
Fdiiipg ivfiection —
Depar't^ leave the ; ?^V//.
What time is it ?
Command —
Hdme ! hdme ! you idle doPis ! get you ho^me.
You blocks^ you siotCeSy you worse than
Senseless thin\^s ! Home to your hii'ts !
You ^rd'veling brii'tes.
There is another form of inflection which is made
an instrument of powerful expression by the experi-
enced and cultivated reader. It is called the cir-
cumflex inflection. It expresses scorn, ridicule, irony,
reproach, great doubt or suspicion, and all the most
powerful passions of the heart. All great actor?
wield it with wonderful eftect, and the orator who
cannot give this tone to his sarcasms can never do
justice to his feelings, his talents or his sarcasm
The circumflex is the union of the two inflections.
It may ascend and then fall or it may fall and then
ascend. The voice moves up and down or down
without interruption. The practice should first be,
as before, on the vowels and the liquids, and then oo
the words.
The Queen in Hamlet says : —
"Hamlet, thou hast thy' father much oflended,"
meaning her husband, Hamlet's step-father. Hamlet
replies with the stern rebuke that j//^ had offended by
being accessory to his true father's murder : —
" Mother, you have my father much offended.*'
It is impossible to enter into all details of this
28 lewis's readings and recitations.
subject ; but if any one faithfully practices the exer-
cises given on the method laid down, giving half an
hour daily to the study, the best results would follow.
The voice would be developed, enlarged and purified
in tone, and its flexibility secured for the delivery of
every order of sentiment. The student must follow
the practice of the musical scholar. Let him not be
in a hurry to read difficult passages, but let hirrt
rather aspire to develop and cultivate the speaking
voice by practising all the exercises suggested, and by
practising on letters, vowels, liquids, and the other
consonants, until great accuracy, facility, and excel-
lence are acquired. Then, as in music, he may
attempt the grander compositions of the orator, the
poet, and the dramatist.
THE principles OP EXPRESSIVE READING.
Time. — Slow reading is as necessary as good artic-
ulation, while, on the other hand, good articulation
secures slow reading. The following rules will aid in
making reading slow and impressive : — (i.) Let every
letter be fully sounded and finished (2.) Prolong all
vowels as much as is consistent with agreeable de-
livery. (3.) Prolong ;;/, ;/, /, n^ and r in the same way.
Be careful to sound every syllable in words of two
and more syllables. Bad readers pronounce the fol-
lowing words in the way shown in the second column.
Correct. Incorrect.
gen-er-al, genrl.
barrel, bar}.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 29
squirrel,
squirl.
visited,
visted.
eternity,
uturnty.
mis-er-y,
misry.
ack-nowledge,
icknolge
authority.
athorty.
The rule is to sound every letter not silent, and to
make sure of the unacce?ited syllable, that is the sylla-
ble which is the least heard. In the first case above —
general^ er is not accented, and hence, all bad speak-
ers and readers, that is the great majority of public
speakers and actors, neglect the unaccented syllable.
Rhetorical Pause. — The next rule for slow read-
ing is to pause frequently. Every grammatical point
demands a pause. Then we should pause before every
new thought, that is before relative pronouns and pre
positions; wherever a word is left out (ellipsis); where
a sentence is inverted ; after the inverted part ; espe-
cially before any impressive word or thought ; and, in
short, when there is the slightest turn or change in the
thought or form of expression, w^e ought to pause.
When we pause we should breathe. Hence, the pause
las not only a rhetorical effect, but it becomes the
means of real power, as, by renewing the breath fre
quently, we renew our power to speak with the best
effect*
*'To render pauses pleasing and ex»^ 4ve, they
mujt not only be made expressive. '. .; -...st not
only be made in the right place, but alsv> accompanied
w)!h a proper tone of voice, by which the nature of
30 lewis's readings and recitations.
these pauses is intimated much more than by the
length of them, which can seldom be exactly mea-
sured. Sometimes it is only a slight and simple
suspension of voice that is proper; sometimes a
degree of cadence in the voice is required j and
sometimes that peculiar tone and cadence which
denote the sentence to be finished. In all these
cases we are to regulate ourselves by attending to the
manner in which nature teaches us to speak when
engaged in real and earnest discourse with others.'' —
Prof, Plumptre.
The " sing song" which marks the popular reading
of poetry may often be avoided by means of a judi
clous pause. The " sing song" not only throws too
strong an accent on the accented words or syllables,
but gives too much prominence to unimportant words,
as tOyfor, by, in, and as, etc,
**Soon I as the daisy | decks the green."
** There | is a flower | a little flower."
But I this bold floweret | climbs the hill,
Hides I in the forest | haunts the glen,
riays I on the margin | of the rill,
Peeps I round the fox's den.
In reading any of the above lines without pause,
the tendency is to give too strong emphasis to the
italicized words ; but, by pausing where the dash is
placed, that tendency is effectually prevented. Finally,
Always pause before an emphatic word or any expres-
sion of great importance, and in poetry always endea-
vour to pause about the middle of each line without
breaking tlie grammatical relation.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS* 31
INFLECTION.
The Student of elocution has been shown how to
acquire the power of inflection ; he must next learn
when to use the rising, the falling, and the circumflex
inflection. For fuller instruction than our present
space allows, he is referred to the author's larger
work,* or to any other treatise. The principles of
inflection are, however, very simple and itw.
Rising Inflection. — All expressions that are in-
complete^ that refer to, or depend for, the complete sense
upon something that is to follow^ require the rising
inflection.
** When Music, heavenly maid, was youngi ^
Ere yet in early Greece she sung, V
The Passions oft, to hear her spell,
Thronged around her magic cell.**
The first three lines in this passage (the Passions)
depend for cheir full sense upon the fourth line ; hence
they enc with the rising inflection, and as the sense is
complete 1 on the word "cell," it takes the falling
inflection.
Questions that can be answered by **Yes*' or
"No" ; (i) negative sentences ; (2) appeals to beings
or objects ; (3) sentences that express amazement, (4)
or doubt or contingency, (5) take a rising inflection.
. (i.) " Did they dare accuse thee f'—Ion.
" Will you put out mine eyes T — King John,
• The Dominion Elocutionist.
32 lewis's readings and recitations,
(2.) " I come to bury Caesar, not top' raise him.^^ —
\yulius CcBsar.
(3.) " Ye crags and J>eaks — Fm with you once
[again." — William Tell
" 0\i friends t — I hear the tread of nimble feet
Hasting this way." — Paradise Lost
(4.) " What, MicKael Cass'eo,
That comes a w'ooing with you, and so man'y
a tim'e
When I had spoken of you disprdisinglyy
Hath ta'en yo'ur fart^ to have so much to do
To bring hi'm i'n P'
(5). He said he would accept your terms if you
would insure her safety,^*
FALLING inflection.
When the sense is complete in a sentence, and it
does not depend upon any expression that follows for
its meaning, the last word of that sentence takes a
falling inflection. Hence, in the preceding sentence,
on the word " inflection," the voice slides down.
A very important caution, however, is here neces-
sary. The student must carefully distinguish between
slide and pitch » The voice always slides downward
on the final word that completes the sense ; but it
does not always sink lower in pitch. It is frequently
sustained as high in pitch on the last as on any pre-
ceding word ; and it is a marked defect of all bad
readers, that at the end of every line of a stanza, their
voices suddenly drop two or three notes lower in
pitch on the last word than on the preceding word.
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 33
Sentences which are negative in ibrm, but expres-
sive of strong conviction, affirmation or command, arc
exceptions to the rule already given, and take the fall-
ing inflection.
" Though I should die with thee, yet I will fioi
(teny t/ie'e,'*
" Thou Shalt not sfe^al^
" God is not a md'n that he should tie] nor the son
of man that he should repe'nt,^*
In very solemn passages, free from great passion,
in which the sublime or the awful predominates more
than the sensational, the inflection, though it ha?
slight variation, is subdued and scarcely perceptible.
It is then called the monotone, and in tone borders
on the chant, but must be entirely free from the into-
nation of music.
** The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temple, the great globe itself,—
Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve.
And like the unsubstantial pageant, faded —
Leave not a rack behind.'* — T/ie fcmpcst.
In this form of inflection the voice has a level
movement from word to word, "like the repeated
sounds of a deep-toned belV and to complete the
impressiveness and beauty of the delivery, the speaker
must use the best qualities of the oratorical voice.
For great sadness or plaintive utterance, the voice
assumes the semi-tones of music. In irony, where
we pretend to praise what we condemn, exalt what
we would degrade, or admire what we despise, the
31 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
voice moves up and down on the circumflex inflec
tion.
I^ise and FalL—^
** For Brutus is an honorable man \
So are they all, all honorable men/*
Julius Casar
Fall and Rhe and Fait and Rise. —
** He, I warrant him,
Believed in no other gods than those of the creed ^--»
Bowed to no idols — but his morCey-ba'gs ;
Swore no false oaths, except at the cus'^tom-hoihe;
Kept the Sabbath — idle ; built a monument
To honor kis — dead father,**
77ie Funeral^ an Eclogue^ by Southey,
EMPHASIS.
Just and appropriate emphasis is an instrument of
[];reat power with the actor and the orator. In every
sentence there will be leading words demanding more
force of voice than subordinate ones. As a rule, the
leading words are verbs and nouns ; adjectives and
pronouns take the next rank ; adverbs follow next ;
while prepositions and conjunctions are the least
important and should never be strongly accented,
unless by way of contrast or for arbitrary emphasis.
In the following passage, " in " is accented :
" 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest."
Arbitrary Emphasis, — By this is meant the selec-
tion of any special word which represents the leading
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 85
thought, will, purpose or view of the speaker. Then,
without regard to any other rule, the word is empha-
sized, that is, the fall force of the voice is brought to
bear upon it. But this is not all. Before uttering
this word of power the speaker pauses a moment,
then he raises his voice several notes higher than the
pitch of the preceding word, and finally his voice
sweeps downward^ never upward on that word oi
power; — add to all this, that he delivers the word
more slowly or pours it forth with a rough aspiration
as in an expression iA deep loathing.
Excftnples :
Portia. — ** Then must the Jew be merciful."
Shylock. — On what compulsion | mu'st | I, tell me t!iat."
Here, before " musty ^ we (i) pause ; (2) raise the
voice ; (3) slide downwards ; (4) prolong the sound .
and, (5) do all this with the greatest force of the voica.
Hamlet, — Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear,
Blastittg his wholesome brother."
Here, in addition to the above qualities, the voice
is aspirated to express extreme loathing.
MODULATION OR PITCH.
The method of acquiring facility in varying the
Pitch has been explained. Its application should be
as anxious an object of study as that of inflection.
School and pulpit reading and platform speaking are
generally — almost universally — m*arked by the monot-
ony of their tones. There is no variety, all is read or
spoken on one dead level. Sometimes the speaker
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. SS
ihouglit, will, purpose or view of the speaker. Then,
without regard to any other rule, the word is empha-
sized, that is, the fall force of the voice is brought to
bear upon it. But this is not all. Before uttering
this word of power the speaker pauses a moment,
then he raises his voice several notes higher than the
pitch of the preceding word, and finally his voice
sweeps downward^ never upward on that word oJ
power ; — add to all this, that he delivers the word
more slowly or pours it forth with a rough aspuratioD
as in an expression (^ deep loathing.
36 lewis's readings and recitations. .
bellows to " split the ears," and sometimes he growls
with the rasped tone of a bear, but on one point he
is consistent, for his voice neither rises nor falls, and
is as destitute of music as a wooden bell or a cracked
one. The contrast between such a voice and that of
an accomplished actor or actress is as great as it is
delightful ; for the voices of the latter are tuned to
music by the varying passions of the speakers, and are
modulated to illustrate every change and form of
thought. To accomplish this excellence long and
faithful drill is needed, under the guidance of good
taste and a musical ear. Much, however, piay be
achieved by listening to the best speakers, read-
ers, and actors, and by private application. The
pitch of the speaking voice ranges over a full octave,
that is, over eight distinct sounds, and if the semi-
tones be embraced in the number, over thirteen dis-
tinct sounds. The practice suggested on page 25
will prepare the student to understand and appreciate
the character of these tones ; but the variety for all
practical purposes may be classed under three heads,
viz. : Low pitch in bass voices below E or F, and in
a tenor below A or B. The middle pitch in the bass
voice from E to A, and in the tenor from A to C ;
and the high pitch which is above the middle pitch.
Each of these degrees has its variations, and the skill-
ful elocutionist modulates his pitch according to the
nature of the sentiment he utters. For all solemn
passages the bass voice should rarely ascend above
F and the tenor above B. Amongst great actors,
what is called level speaking, that is a pitch not
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS 37
higher than that named, and sustained with regularity,
is esteemed a rare and enviable attainment. The
difficulty with most speakers to sustain the level, lies
in the tendency to pass into monotony, or by too
much prolonging the tone, into chanting. To attain
excellence, the speaker should persevere in the prac-
tice of reading continuously on one pitch and then
upon another, until he can at will undertake any pitch
demanded by his subject. Inflection gives expression
and meaning to thought, but modulation gives variety
and beauty to delivery and destroys monotony. The
rules in works on elocution, for adapting the pitch to
the sentiment, are numerous, but the following general
principles will serve to guide the student : —
Read all the leading words and thoughts (principal
sentence) in a higher pitch than the subordinate ones.
Read subordinate phrases, and clauses, similes and
parenthetic clauses in a lower tone.
When a leading thought is broken across, inter-
rupted by the intervention of a subordinate phrase,
and then resumed, be careful to //V, as it were, by the
higher pitch the interrupted passages of the leading
thought. This is very necessary to sustain the con
nection, and the force and meaning of the leading
thought
Cheerfulness, a nymph of health and hue t
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, — that dale and thicket nmg.
The hnntcT$ call to Fawn and Dryad known.
38 lewis's readings and recitations.
Here the words in italics are louder and higher than
the words in roman, and in that way theix logical
relation is exhibited.
The modulations of pitch must be carefully and
tastefully managed. The transition must not be too
abrupt nor wide ; but in moving from higher to iowei
tones, and the converse, the voice advances by imper-
ceptible degrees, rather than leaps. Attention to
this variety of pitch, in strict harmony with the
principles laid down, will not only prevent the dull
ness of monotony, but by modulating according tc
the importance of the sentence and phrase, will make
the reading an admirable and clear interpretation o
the sense. The correct and scientific reading of a
passage will often explain the meaning better than a
labored commentary.
The Spirit of an Author. — Writers ignorant o*
the principle of dramatic delivery, often nwintain tliat
all that is necessary to render a passage with correctness
is to understand it. But this view is erroneous. Man)
an educated man who understands the r eaning of ?
passage, that is, the literal meaning, reads it abomi
nably. The accomplished reader must realize the
spirit of a passage. It is not the grammatical forms
but the creation of the author, that he has to study
It is thus necessary that the student shall exert tiie
highest power of his imagination to conceive the
nature of an intellectual creation, and his best 'udg
ment and knowledge to ascertain if his conception be
in harmony with truth and nature. Millions have
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 39
read and seen Hamlet, and thousands have studied
and endeavored to impersonate that wonderful crea-
tion ; yet it is sometimes asserted that no reader or
actor has ever yet attained a right conception and
presented a right representation of Hamlet. But the
judicious and tasteful reader never fails to give a
charm and a beauty to his vocal interpretation of an
author, because the principles of elocution are based
on scientific truth, and because he looks above and
beyond the mere literal meaning, into the very soul of
the passage he has studied, and reads. One good
reader or actor, for example, may deliver a passage or
represent a passage differently from another ; but if
each is guided by the true principles of Art, he is sure
to give a truthful representation of his own concep-
tion.
In studying a passage, a scene or a poem, whether
serious or humorous, the student must ponder all the
circumstances, associations and possibilities of the
scene, the character and the passage. If it be a scene
from Macbeth, he must analyze, and, as it were, dis-
sect the nature of the character, — his history, his mo-
tives and his mental qualities, and then assume ail
these himself. If it be the hatred of revenge, or the
jealousy or tende»*ness or madness of love, the mind
of the reader or actor must not only conceive the
nature of the passion, but in every sense realize, as-
sume and become it. All this demands close and
skilful study, and a strong imagination. But the stu-
dent who faithfully pursues his work, may be assured
that judgment and imagination are developed and
matured by such studies.
40 lewis's readings and recitations.
THE READER AND THE AUDIENCE.
The reader should never hold his book in his hand.
The hands should be free for gesticulation, and every
reader should be provided with a proper desk, high
enough for him to glance at his book and read it
without hesitation and without bending his body or
his head. Two powerful lights should be made to
fall downwards, not sideways, on the print, and if
shaded, not only above so as to throw the light down,
but also in front, so as not to shine on the eyes of the
audience, it would give the best effect to the facial
expression. The light should rather be higher than
the face of the reader than fronting it, as the shade
formed by the projecting parts of the face have then a
finer effect. When tlie commonest vocalist appears
before an audience, every pi jvision is made, and con-
siderable cost incurred, to make the performance
effective. The reader ought to have hi^ necessary
arrangements ; and no reader anxious about his repu-
tation and the success of his reading ought to read
without provision similar to the above.
The reader should approach his audience, whatever
be the character of his piece, with firm and easy step,
and, after bending — not his head alone, but his body —
gently and gracefully arrange himself for reading. If he
has committed the selection to memory, it is well to
have a desk and a book, as any object on which to place
the book and lean the arm occasionally, adds to the
effect. If he has not committed the entire selection
to memory, he should learn off all the more impor
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 41
tant, especially the more passionate or impressive
passages. Then he should look ahead of his reading,
take in a group of words at a glance, and seem to be
reading without looking at his book. Hence the
necessity for a strong light.
Again, before commencing let all appearance of
fear be thrown away. Calmness and self-command
should m rk the commencement. The reader at that
moment is the superior of his audience, and he ought
at once to command their attention. Self-possession
and confidence, free from self-conceit and assumption,
always win the respect and attention of the audience.
If there be not complete silence the reader should
not commence until that be secured. A fixed and
determined look in the direction of any violation of
order will generally convey the necessary rebuke with
success.
The gesticulation of the reader should always be
quiet, never in excess. The lower limbs should never
be stiff or too near each other. One foot should be
pointed to the audience and the other turned in a
direction so as to form a broad V. The reader
should, however, occasionally change his position.
The motion of the arms, chiefly the right arm, should
be in curves and circles and always from the shouldefy
never in sharp angles from the elbow. The move-
ment of the hand should be from the wrist with the
hand open, unless in defiance. Whatever direc-
tion the arm or hand takes the termination of the
gesture is that of a graceful and easy and not abrupt
curve. In serious readings, the action accofupanUs the
c
42 lewis's readings and recitations.
word it IS to illustrate ; but in humour it generally
precedes it The eye of the reader should always look
in the direction of the action, while an occasional
change in the position of the feet is agreeable ; the
habit practised by some readers and speakers of pa-
cing the platform backwards and forwards, like a wild
animal in a cage. Is in the highest degree ungraceful,
undignified, and unimpressive. It is not illustrative^
and it distracts the attention of the hearer.
The speaker should never turn his back or his entire
side to the audience. The audience is to him a semi-
circle, and while he may glance around, the effect is
ludicrous when he addresses himself sideways to the
right or left corner of the room. The audience
should never see less than a three-quaners view of the
face and chest.
In personating two or more characters, turn the
face, but not the whole body, to the right or left when
one speaks, and to the opposite side when the other
speaks. When the selection consists of mixed narra-
tive and dialogue, be sure to distinguish the parts.
The dialogue is louder and slower, and marked by
action. When it is narrative, the speaker addresses
his audience in a quieter tone, with little or no gesti-
culation.
In reading humorous pieces, the reader should
avoid that excess of buffoonery, which is a poor sub-
stitute for genuine comedy, and which, " though it
make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judi-
cious grieve." The best humor is often strengtherted
by the quiet easy manner in which it is said. Any
HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS, 43
one who has seen Charles Matthews, or Sothern as
'* Dundreary," will understand the force of this advice.
The comic reader must take heed lest the audience
be laughing, not at the humor of his selection, but at
him ; and if he distorts his face or his voice, or leaps
frantically about to illustrate his point, he may be
assured he is in danger of marring the genuine humor,
and making himself ridiculous. All this is vulgar,
and genuine humor need have no vulgarity to set it off.
44 lewis's readings anf recitations.
THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL.
KING ROBERT OF SICILY.
(In full orotund voice throughout.)
(i) Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine.
(2) Apparelled in magnificent attire,
With retinue of many a knight and squire,
{3) On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly sat
And heard the priests chant the Magfi^ificat,
(4) And, as he listened o'er and o'er again
Repeated, like a burden or refrain.
He caught the words, " Deposuit potentes (5)
De sedcy et exaltavit hutniUs " /
And slowly lifting up his kingly head,
He to a learned clerk beside him, sa'id,
(6) " What mean these words ? " The clerk made
answer meet,
(1) Read the first two lines in higher pitch. Narrative style.
(2) Head 3rd line in lower pitch.
(3) Resume higher pitch.
(4) Lower pitch from " aa " to '* refrain,** connect in higher pitch " and
with '* He caught, &c."
(5) Chant the Latin, according to the musia
(0) HaughtUy.
THE LEGEND OF THE ANOfeL. 45
(i) " He has put down the mighty from their scat,
And has exalted them of low degree. '^
Thereat King Robert muttered scomfu'lly,
(2) " Tis well that such seditious words are sung
Only hy pri'ests and, in the Latin ton'gue ;
For unto priests and people be it known,
There is no power can push me from my thro^nel"
And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,
Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.
(3) When he awoke, it was already night :
The church was em^pty, and there was no Tight,
Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and
fai'nt,
Lighted a little space before some sai^nt
He started from his seat and gazed around.
But saw no living thing and heard no sound.
He groped towards the door, but it was locked ;
He cried aloud, and listetUdy {4) and then
knocked, (5)
And uttered awful threatenings a'^d complaints,
JIJ Meekly but solcmly.
(2) Angrily and haughtily.
(3) Bewildered but angry air.
(4) Low and pause, •
(•O Loud and flerce to " •aints.** ,
43 lewis's 'readings and recitations.
And imprecations upon men and saints.
(i) The sound re-echoed from the roof and walls
As if dead priests were Ic^ughing in their stalls !
At length the sexton, hearing from without
The tumult of the knocking and the sh'out,
And thinking thieves were in the house of pra'yer,
Came with his Ikntern, asking, " Who is there I'*
Half choked with rage. King Robert fiercely
said,
(2) " Open : 't is V, the KCng! Art thou afr'aid ?"
The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse,
" This IS some drunken vagabond, or wo'rse !"
Turned the great key and flung the portal wide ;
A man rushed by him at a single stride,
(3) Haggard, half naked, without hat or cloak,
Who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor
spoke,
But leaped into the blackness of the night.
And vanished like a spectre from his sight.
gj Low with an air of terror,
) Fierce and loiul
(8) Hurried and wild.
THE LEGEND OP THE ANGEL. 4*^
(i) Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Despoiled of his magnificent attire,
Bare-headed, breathless, and besprent with mire,
With sense of wrong and outrage desperate.
Strode on, and thundered at the palace gate ;
Rushed through the court-yard, thrusting in his
rage
(2) To right and left each seneschal and page,
And hurried up the broad and sounding stair,
His white face ghastly j in the torches' glare.
From hall to hall he passed with breathless
speed ;
Voices and cries he heard, but did not heed.
Until at last he reached the banquet-room,
Blazing with light, and breathing with perfume.
(3) There on the dais sat another king,
Wearing his robes, his crown, his signet-ring,
(1) Haughty and wrathful tone and manner from "Robert" to ♦* per-
fume."
(2) Fiercer and quicker.
(3) He looks at the angel with mingled expression of wonder, confusion,
and nur«
48 lewis's readings and recitations.
King Robert's self in features, form, and height,
But all transfigured with angelic light 1
( I ) It was an Angel ; and his presence there
With a divine effulgence filled the air,
An exaltation, piercing the disguise,
Though none the hidden Angel recognize.
A moment speechless, motionless, a'mazedy
The throneless monarch on the Angel gaze'dy
Who met his looks of anger and surprise
With the divine comfassion of his eyes ;
(2) Then said, "Who art thou? and why com^st
thou here ? "
To which King Robert answered, with a snder,
(3) "I am the Kiti'g, and come to claim my own
From an wip^osior, who usurps my throne !'*
And suddenly, at these audacious words,
(4) Up sprang the angry guests, and drew their
swords ;
The Angel answered, with unruffled brow,
(1) Slowlj' change to the solemn and reverential.
(2) Dignified rebuke.
(3) Spoken loudly, with ming-led contempt, WTath, and defiance, growing
higher to " thi*one."
(41 Appropriate action.
THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL. 40
" Nay, not the Ki'ng, but the King's y ester,
tho'u
Henceforth shalt wear the bells and scallopeo
cape,
And for thy counsellor | shalt lead | an ape;
Thou shalt obey my servants wken they call,
And wait upon my henchmen in the hall 1 "
Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and
pra'yers,
They thrust him from the hall and down the
stairs ;
A group of tittering pages ran before,
And, as they opened wide the folding-door,
(2) His heart failed, for he heard, with strange
alarms,
The boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms,
(3) And all the vaulted chamber roar and ring
With the mock plaudits ol "'Long live the
King!"
0) Calm ar»bald steed, with shambling gait.
His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
(1) All this pawtge cheerfully (ielivored, or.-Jtund voice, radical utrcss
(2) Lower toiiD, M Iq •orrow at bchoULuj^ the dogradutiuu uf groainvjs.
THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL. 63
The solemn ape demurely perched behind,
King Robert rode, making huge merr'iment
In all the couAitry towns through which they
went.
The Pope received them with great pomp, and
blare
Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square,
Giving his benediction and embrace,
Fervent, and full of apostolic gr^ce.
While with congratulations and with prayers
He entertained the A'ngel unawa'res,
(i) Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd,
Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud,
(2) " /am the King! Look, and behold in me
(3) Robert, your brother^ Kin^ of Sicily !
This man, who wears my sembiance to your
eyes,
Is an imp^ostor in a king's disguise.
(1) Change here from reverence to wrath.
(2) Utter *' I " with i;roat power and (alliujf iuflecUon, and " Klag " with
rising inflection.
(3) E&rnciit appeal.
54 lewis's readings and recitations.
(i) Do you not know me? does no voice within
Answer my cry, and say we are alcin ? "
The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien,
Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene ;
The Emperor, laughing, said, " It is strange
sport
To keep a madman for thy Fwl at co'urt T'
And the poor, baffled Jester in disgrace
(2) Was hustled back among the populace.
In solemn scate the Holy Week went by,
And Easter Sunday gleamed upon the sky ;
The presence of the Angel, with its light,
Before the sun rose, made the city bright,
And with new fervor filled the hearts of r^en,
Wiio felt that Christ indeed had risen agai^i,
(3) Even the Jester, on his bed of straw,
With haggard eyes, the unwonted splendor saw,
He fell within a power unfelt before,
And, kneeling humbly on his chamber floor.
10 TcTiilerb'U earneal fvppeal,
0) Tuittt u| tiulwuu Uevuiioui
THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL. 55
He heard the rushing garments of the Lord
(i) S7i>a'p through the silent air, ascending heaven-
ward.
And now the visit ending, and once more
Valmond returning to the Danube's sho're,
Homeward the Angel jo^urneyed, and again
The land was made resplendent with his train,
Flashing along the towns of Italy
Unto Salerno, and from there by sea.
And when once more within Palermo's wall,
And, seated on the throne in his great hall,
He heard the Angelus from convent towers.
As if the better world conversed with ours,
He beckoned to King Robert to draw nigher,
And with a gesture bade the rest retire j
And when they were alone, the Angel said,
(2) " Art thou the King ?" Then bowing down his
head,
(3) King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast.
(1) Forrotir rl^lnt; to oxattod animation and looking and pointing
upward.
m Gently.
(3) CorreMi>ondIng acUon,
56 lewis's readings and recitations.
(i)And meekly answered him: "Thou knowcst
best !
My sins as scarlet are ; let me go hence,
And in some cloister's school of penitence,
Across those stones, that pave the way to
heaven.
Walk 1 refoot, till my guilty soul is shriven !"
The Angel smiled, and from his radiant face
A holy light illumined all the pl^ce,
And through the open window, loud and clear,
They heard the monks chant in the chapel
near,
Above the stir and tumult of the street !
(2) " He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree ! "
And through the chant a second melody
Rose like the throbbing of a single string :
" I am an Angel, and thou art the King 1 *
King Robert, who was standing near the throne,
1) Half pobbinff. wptA bow^, han^i croflseu over tho breist
,2) Uigt) and exalteti {«»euttf .
THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL.
«T
(i) Lifted his eyes, and lo ! he was alone !
But all apparelled as in days of old,
With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold ;
And when his courtiers came, they found him
there
(2) Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed in silent
prayer.
i
t
1^
?2:
-(£?-
Deposuit potentes de
se
de,
i
^E^
-G>'
et cxal - ta - vit
hu • mi
let.
(1) Begin with majesty of tone, up to "KoldL"
(2) Very solemn and slow.
58 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
THE CHANGED.
A FRAGMENT.
From ^^ Hood* s Maf^azine^^^
— Again I beheld her — two years of dissipation, of
madness, had passed, and once more I saw her whom
I had so baselv deserted.
It was at the Opera — she sat in a box near me ;
and though the paleness of her cheek gave her an al-
most unearthly appearance, I saw that she was lovely
as ever.
All eyes were upon her — all but mine : for one
glance had called up so many painful recollections,
that I dared not risk a second. The past with its
exquisite delights rose vividly before me, as I gazed
on her whose happiness I had wrecked. I felt my-
self a guilty wretch.
** Poor Emily !" I murmured, as tears of bitter re-
morse filled my eyes. I was interrupted by H ,
who, touching my elbow, whispered, —
" Look in that box on the right. Is it not extra-
ordinary to see a young girl with such white hair T
I turned impatiently from him : but so many re-
marks of the same kind were whispered by those near
me, that the words seemed to hiss in my ears ; the
stage appeared filled with fiery serpents, chasing and
entwining each other, and the hilarity of the audience
THE CHANGED. 59
at the humour of Lablache sounded like the laughter
of mocking fiends.
At length the first act was at an end. The curtain
dropped.
*' TL bet a dozen of champagne," said one of my
neighbours, " that she has been frightened. Fear has
been known to turn the hair gray in a single night."
" You are mistaken," said another. " No sudden
shock could have changed it so completely. I am a
surgeon, and know something about these things : it
is more likely the result of secret sorrow, some mining
grief.'*
'* Perhaps she is a widow," said a third ; " and nas
fretted for the loss of her husband 1 *So mourned
the dame of Ephesus her love.'"
If the look with which I regarded the last speaker
could have killed him, there would have been one
puppy the less in the world.
" Your conjecture does not seem to be a very pro-
bable one," said the surgeon ; " She looks too young
for a widow. I should say she was not more than
seventeen or eighteen.'*
" Just eighteen 1" exclaimed I, voluntarily.
" Do you know the young lady. Sir ?" he asked,
turning to me. I was silent, and he continued. " If
the study of physiognomy is to be depended on, an
unrequited passion is the cause of the calamity."
At these words I could no longer restrain my feel-
ings. " Be silent, for heaven's sake !" I exclaimed,
grasping his hand convulsively. " I am the greatest
villain on the face of the earth 1''
60 lewis's readings and recitations.
He looked at me in astonishment ; but just then
the curtain again rose, and the clan g of music drowned
all other sounds. While everybody's attention was
drawn to the performance, I took courage to look
once more at Emily. How beautiful she was, as she
sat with her melancholy gaze fixed on the stage. So
young, and already grief had decked her brow with
the silvery badge of age 1 Could it be ? Was it Emily,
once the adored of my soul, the queen of my youth-
ful fancy ? Was it she whom I saw ? Her golden
hair changed to white by grief for my inconsistency !
The play was over — mechanically I rose to go. As
I reached the door, one of my friends hurried to meet
me.
" How long have you been returned?" said he. "Did
you know that Emily was in town ? I saw her just
now. Good heavens ! how it has changed her !'*
"It has, indeed !" said I, with a groan, " dreadfully,
awfully changed her !"
" Of course, you know the cause ?"
" Too well I too well ! I am the cause !"
" You ! What ! Did you persuade her to do it .?''
" To do what ?'*
" Why, don't you know that fancying her hair had
red tinge, she was persuaded to use the new Victoria
dye, which has turned it white I"
a
PHILIP, MY KINO, 61
PHILIP, MY KING.
DINAH MARIA MULOCH.
** Who bears upon his baby brow the round and top of sove-
reignty."
Look at me with thy large brown eyes,
Philip, my King !
For round thee thy purple shadow lies
Of babyhood's regal dignities.
Lay on my neck thy tiny hand,
With love's invisible sceptre laden ;
I am thine Esther to command,
Till thou shalt find thy queen-handmaiden,
Philip, my King !
O, the day when thou goest a-wooing,
Philip, my Ring !
When those beautiful lips are suing.
And, some gentle heart's bars undoing,
Thou dost enter, Love-crowned, and there
Sittest all glorified ! — Rule kindly.
Tenderly, ever thy kingdom fair ;
For we that love — ah I we love so blindly,
Philip, my King 1
62 lewis's readings and recitations.
I gaze from thy sweet mouth up to thy brow,
Philip, my king !
Ay ! there lies the spirit, all sleeping now,
That may rise like a giant, and make men bow
As to one God-throned amidst his peers.
My Saul, than thy brethren higher and fairer
Let me behold thee in coming years !
Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer,
Philip, my King !
A wreath, not of gold, but palm. One day,
Philip, my King !
Thou too must tread, as we tread, a way
Thorny, and bitter, and cold, and gray ;
Rebels within thee, and foes without.
Will snatch at thy crown. But go on, glorious :
Martyr, yet monarch ! till angels shout,
As thou sit'st at the feet of God victorious,
♦* Philip, my King !"
RAMON. 63
RAMON. ,
BY BRET HARTE.
Drunk and senseless in his place,
Prone and sprawling on his face,
Alore like brute than any man
\live or dead, —
By his great pomp out of gear,
Lay the peon engineer,
Waking only just to hear.
Overhead
Angry tones that called his name,
Oaths and cries of bitter biame —
Woke to hear all this, and waking turned and fled I
" To the man who'll bring to me,''
Cried intendant Harrv Lee, —
Harry Lee, the English foreman of the mine, —
Bring the sot alive or dead,
I will give to him," he said,
" Fifteen hundred pesos down,
Just to set the rascal's crown
Underneath this heel of mine :
Since but death
Deserves the man whose deed.
Be it vice or want of heed,
Stops the pumps that give us breath —
64 lewis's readings and recitations.
stops the pumps that suck the death
From the poisoned lower levels of the ix ine 1"
No one answered, for a cry
From the shaft rose up on high ;
And shuffling, scrambling, tumbling from below
Came the miners each, the bolder,
Mounting on the weaker's shoulder,
Grappling to their hold, or
Letting go,
As the weaker gasped and fell
From the ladder to the well —
To the poisoned pit of heli
Down below ?
" To the man who sets them free,"
Cried the foreman, Harry Lee, —
Harry Lee*, the English foreman of the mine, —
" Brings them out and sets them free,
I will give that man," said he,
" Twice that suni, who with a rope.
Face to face with Death shall cope.
Let him come who dares to hope !"
" Hold your peace !" some one replied,
Standing by the foreman's side ;
** There has one ah^ady gone, whoe'er he be f
Then they held their breath with awe,
Pulling on the rope, and saw
Fainting figures reappear,
On the black rope swinging clear.
Fastened by some skillful hand from below,
RAMON. 65
rill a score the level gained,
And but one alone remained —
He the hero and the last,
He whose skillful hand made fast
The long line that brought them back to hope
And cheer !
Haggard, gasping, down dropped he
At the feet of Harry Lee —
Harry Lee, the EngHsh foreman of the mine ;
" I have come," he gasped, " to claim
Both rewards. Senor, my name
Is Ramon.
I'm the drunken engineer —
Tm the coward Senof' — Here
He fell over by that sign
Dead as stone !
— Atlantic Month
66 lewis's readings and REaXAXIONS.
THE CONVERSION OF COLONEL QUAGG.
BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
Colonel Quagg and his anvil were, one April even-
ing, in fierce dispute about a red-hot horseshoe. The
fire roared, the sparks flew up the chimney, and the
bellows blew fiercely. The colonel had the ad-
vantage of a hammer that Tubal Cain might have
wielded when he fashioned the first plough-share ; but
the anvil was used to hard knocks, and stood out
against the blacksmith bravely. Indeed, if a certain
metallic vibration was to be taken into account, the
anvil had the best of it ; for it had the last word.
Only the unfortunate horseshoe came to grief ; and,
like the man between two stools who came to the
ground, was battered into all sorts of shapes between
the two disputants. Suddenly 'Zeek, the bellows-
blower, ceased for a moment in his occupation, and
remarked —
" One o* them, colonel, top o* the hill. On a hoss.
Legs long as a coulter."
" Twankeydillo ! twankeydillo !" sung out Colonel
Quagg, in great exultation. He, 'Zeek, and plenty
of it, for Jack Strap, the crittur, is getting tarnation
custy."
*The fatal strap being "iled'' rather more liberally
than usual, the colonel grasped it in his mighty hand,
iru} passed out at the smithy door.
THE CONVERSION OF COLONEL QUAGG. 67
He saw, coming towards him down the hill, a long-
legged, yellow-faced man in black, with a white neck-
cloth and a broad-brimmed hat He bestrode a
solemn-looking white horse, with a long tail. He had
but one spur (the rider), but it was a very long and
rusty spur. In his hand he carried a little dog's-eared
book ; but, as he rode, he sung quite softly a little
hymn
Colonel Quagg waited till the verse of the hymn
was quite finished, and the horseman had got to within
a couple of yards of his door, when he called out in a
terrible voice —
" Hold hard 1"
" Brother," said the man on the horse, " good even-
ing, and peace."
" For the matter of that," responded Colonel
Quagg, ** rot ! Hold hard, and get out of that hoss."
** Brother," the other interrogated, as if not quite
understanding the command.
" Get out, I tell you, cried the blacksmith. Legs
and feet. Get out you long-tailed blackbird. Get
out, for I'm ''^*^ end snakes will wake ! I want to
.alk to you.*'
The long ir.aL slid rather than got off his horse. It
was indeed Brother Zephaniah Sockdolloger ; for his
face was quincier than ever, and, as he descended
from his steed, he shut one eye and expectorated.
" Now," said the blacksmith, seating himself upon
ihe horse-block in front of his dwelling, and giving a
olow on the ground with his strap that made the
pebbles dance. " Where do you hail from ?"
68 lewis's readings and recitations.
" From Punkington City, brother," answered the
Reverend Zephaniah.
"And whar are you a gom' tu?"
" To Rapparoarer City."
" And what may you be goin* for to du in that loca.
tion?"
" Goin' on circuit."
Colonel Quagg shook out the strap to its full
length, and passed it through his horny hand.
" There was a brother of yours," he said senten-
tiously, " that went to Rapparoarer last fall. He
passe^ ^'ns edifice, he did. He met this strap close
by here. And this strap made him see comets, and
dance like a shaking Quaker, and feel uncommon
like a bob-tailed bull in fly time.
. • . • And I du hope," the colonel continued.
" that you, brother, aren't of the same religion as this
babe of grace was as met the strap as he was riding.
That religion was the Grace-Walking religion, and
that religion I always lick."
" Lick, brother ?"
"Lick. With this strap. Dreadful."
" Colonel Goliah Quagg," said the minister, " for
such, I know, is your name in the flesh, 1 am di
preacher of the Grace-Walking connection. Humble,
but faithful, I hope."
** Then," returned Colonel Quagg, making an ironi-
cal bow, " this is the strap with which I am going to
lick you into sarse."
** Brother, brother," the other cried, ahakingf his
head, ** cast that cruol strap from out of thtne hand,
THE CONVERSION OF COLONEL QUAGG. 69
Close thine hand, if thou wilt, upon the hammer of
thy trade, the coulter of thy plough, upon a pen, the
rudder of a ship, the handle of a lantern to light men
to peace, and love, and good-will ; but close it not
upon sword of iron, or bludgeon of wood, or strap of
leathern hide. For, from the uplifting and downfall-
ing of those wicked instruments came never good ;
but rather boiling tears, and bruises, and blood, and
death." -
"Now look you here," the blacksmith cried, im-
patiently. " Talk as long as you like ; but talk while
I am a-licking of you. For time is prec ious and must
not be thrown away nohow. Lick you I must, and
lick you I will — hard."
" But, brother — but, colonel **
" Rot !" exclaimed the colonel. " Straps is waiting.
Stubs and fences ! I'll knock you into horseshoes,
and then into horsenails, if you keep me waiting."
" Have you no merciful feelings V* asked Zepha-
niah, as if sorely troubled.
" Not a cent ofm. Air you ready ? Will you take
it fighting, or will you tike it lying down ?
" Some takes it fighting ; some takes it like lambs,
lying down. O.^ly make haste."
" Goliah Quagg," the minister responded, " I am a
man of peace, and not one that goes raging about
with sword and buckler, like unto Apollyon, or a
corporal of the Boston Tigers ; and I would rather
not take it at all."
" You must," the colonel roared, now fairly infuri-
ated. " Pickled alligators ! you must. Hold hardi
70 lewis's reaiings and recitations.
you coon ! Hold hard ! for I'm a goin' to begin.
Now, once more ; is it fighting, or is it quiet, you
mean for to take it ?*'
** Well," said Brother Zephaniah, " you are hard
upon me, colone , and that's true. It's fighting or
lying down, isn't it ?"
" Ah," returned the colonel, brandishing his strap.
" Then Fit take it Jightiiig^^ the man of peace said
quietly.
Colonel Quagg halted for a moment, as if amazed
at the audacity of the Grace- Walker. Then, with a
wild halloo, he rushed upon him, very much as a bob-
tailed bull does rush about under the aggravating in-
fluence of flies. His hand was upon the minister's
collar ; the strap that had done so much execution in
its iSme was swinging high in the air, when—
Stay. Can you imagine the rage, astonishment,
and despair of a schoolmaster caned by his pupil ; of
the Emperor of China sentenced to be bambooed by
a Hong Kong coolie ; of the beadle of the Burlington
Arcade expulsed therefrom by a boy with a basket ;
of a butler kicked by a foot page ; of a Southern
planter cow-hided by one of his own niggers; of a
Broadway dandy jostled by a newly-landed '"migrant;
of a policeman ordered to move on by an apple-
woman ; of the Commander-in-chief of an army
ordered to stand at ease by a drummer ; of the Pope
of Rome blessed of two fingers by a chorister boy ?
If you can imagine anything of that sort — but only if
you can — you may be able to form some idea of how
Colonel Quagg felt when a storm of blows, hard, well
THE CONVERSION OF COLONEL QUAGG. 71
directed, and incessant, began to f^U on his head, on
his breast, on his face, on his shoulders, on his arms,
on his legs — all over his body, so rapidly that he felt
S.S if he was being hit everywhere at once — when he
found his strap would hit nowhere on the body of his
opponent, but that he himself was hit everywhere.
Sledgehammers 1 Sledgehammers were nothing to
the fists of the Grace Walking brother. A bob-tailed
bull in fly-time was an animal to be envied in
comparison to the colonel. He danced with all the
vigour of a nigger toeing and heeling a hornpipe. He
saw more comets than Tycho Brahe or Erra Pater
ever dreamed off. He felt that he was all nose, ond
that a horribly swollen one. Then that he had
swallowed all his teeth. Then that he had five hun-
dred eyes, and then none at all. Then that his ribs
went in and his blood came out. Then his legs
failed under him, and he fell down all of a heap ; or,
perhaps, to speak classically and pugilistically, he hit
out wildly, felt groggy, and went down at the ropes.
The tall brother went down atop of him, and con-
tinued pounding away at his body — not perhaps as
hard as he could, but decidedly much harder than the
colonel Uked — singing all the while the little hymn.
" Hold hard !" gasped the colonel, at last, faintly,
" '^^ou don't mean murder, do you ? You won't hit a
man when he's down, much more, will you, brothtr ?"
* By no means," answered Zephaniah, bringing
down his fist, nevertheless, with a tremendous ** bash "
upon the colonel's nose, as if there were a Qy there,
und he wanted to kill it. *' Bat you've took it fight-
72 lewis's readings and recitations.
ing, colonel ; and you may as well now take it like a
lamb, lying down."
" But I'm broke, I tell you, groaned the vanquished
blacksmith. " I can't do no more. You air so*
mighty hard, you a/>."
" Oh ! You give in, then ?"
" Ay," murmured Colonel Quagg, I cave in."
'*' Speak louder, Fm hard of hearing."
"Yes !" repeated the colonel, with a groan. " I du
cave in. For I'm beat ; whittled clean away to the
small end o' nothing — chawed up — cornered."
" You must promise me one little thing, Colonel
Goliah Quagg," said the Reverend Sockdolloger, v^ith-
out, however, removing his knees from the coloneFs
chest. ** You must promise before I leave off ham-
mering of your body, never for to ill-treat by word or
deed any of our people — ministers, elders, deacons,
or brethren."
" I'll promise," replied the colonel ; " only let me
get up. You'r choking me.*'
"Not to rile, lick, or molest any other peaceable
critturs as are coming or going past your way."
" I promise," muttered the colonel, who was now
becoming purple in the face.
" Likewise," concluded Zephaniah, playfully knock-
ing away one of his adversary's loose teeth, so as to
make his mouth neat and tidy, " you must promise to
give up drinking of rum • which is a delusion and a
inare, and bad for the innards, bes'des being on the
trunk line to perdition, and finally, ju must promise
o come to our next camp-meeting, clean-shaved, and
/nth a contrite heart."
THE CONVERSION OF COLONEL QUAGG. 73
"No," cried the almost expiring colonel, I won't,
not for all the toebacco in Virginny I Nor yet for
Martin van Buren or Dan'el Webster ! Nor yet tor
to be postmaster !"
" You won't, brother ?*' asked Zephaniah, persua-
sively raising his fist.
"No, Tm darned if I do/'
"Then," said the Grace- Walker meekly, "I must
sing you another little hymn,"
Immediately afterwards Colonel Quagg's tortures
recommenced. He struggled, he roared, he entreated,
but in vain. All he coul d see were the long man's
arms whirling about like the sails of windmills. All
he could feel was the deadly pain of the blows on his
already hideously-bruised face and body. All he
could hear was the snuffling voice of his tormentor^
singing, with an occasional stammer, a verse of a little
hymn . . • . He could stand it no longer. He
threw out his arms, and groaned, " Spare my life, and
I'll promise anything."
" Happy to hear it, colonel," answered Brother
Sockdolloger, helping his adversary to rise, an J then
coolly settling his own white neckcloth and broad-
brimmed hat. " Perhaps you'll be good enough to
look after my hoss a bit. He cast a shoe just after I
left Punkington."
74 lewis's readings and recitations.
MRS. POYSER'S OPINIONS.
BY GEORGE ELIOT.
[The authoress of "Adam Bede" painted probably her happi-
est character in the person of Mrs. Poyser, the bustling indefati-
gable farmer's wife, who, busy of hand, restless of eye, and
pungent of tongue, gives forth in the above story these witty
caustic specimens of rustic proverbial philosophy. ]
Folks must put up wi' their own kin, as they put
up wi' their own noses — ^its their own flesh and
blood.
Folks as have no mind to be o' use have always
the luck to be out o' the road when there's anything
to be done.
It's all very fine having a ready-made rich man, but
it may happen he'll be a ready-made fool ; and its no
use filling your pocket full o* money if youVe got a
hole in the corner. If 11 do you no good to sit in a
spring cart o' your own, if youVe got a soft to drive
you : he'll soon turn you over into the ditch. I
allays said I'd never marry a man as had got no
brains ; for where's the use of a womar: Having brains
of her own if she's tackled to a gerk .1.. everybody's a
laughing at ? She might as well dress herself fine to
sit back'ards on a donkey.
It's ill livin' in a hen-roost for them as doesn't like
fleas.
If you go past your dinner time, there'll be little
MRS. poyser's opinions. 75
relish o' your meat. You turn it o'er and o'er wi'
your fork, an' don't eat it after all. You find faut wi'
your meat, and the faut's i' your own stomach.
Wi' them three gells in the house I'd need have
twice the strength to keep 'em up to their work. It's
like having roast meat at three fires ; as soon as
you've basted one, another's burnin*.
What care I what the men 'ud run after ? It's well
seen what choice the most of 'em know how to make,
by the poor draggle-tails o' wives ycu see, like bits o'
gause ribbon, good for nothing \\^hen the colour's
gone. =«
What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? — a,
poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow.
She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and
then wonder as the scratchin's run under . . .
You'd never know when vou went into her house
whether it was Monday or Friday, th' wash draggin'
on to the end o' the week ; and as for her cheese^ I
know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year.
And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as
there's folks ud' stand on their heads and then say
the fault was i' their boots.
You make but a poor trap to catch luck if you go
and bait it wi' wickedness. The money as is got so's
like to burn iioles i' your pocket.
Mr. Bede, will you take some vinegar with your
lettuce ? Ay, you're i' th' right not. It spoils the
flavour o' the chine, to my thinking. It's poor eating
where the flavour o' the meat lies i' the cruits. There's
folks as made bad butter, and trusten to the salt t'
hide it.
76 lewis's readings and recitations.
I know that dancings nonsense ; but if you stick at
everything because it's nonsense, yon wonna go far i*
this life. When your broth's ready-made for you, you
mun swallow the thickenin', or else let the broth
alone. •
I'd sooner ha' brewin' day and washin* day to-
gether than one o' these pleasurin' days. There's no
work so tirin' as danglin' about and starin', an' not
rightly knowin' what your goin' to do next ; an' keep-
in' your face i' smilin' order, like a grocer o' market
day, for fear people shouldna' think you civil enough.
And you've nothing lo show for it when it's done, if
it isn't a yallow face wi' eatin' things as disagree.
I was never over-fond o' gentlefolk's servants —
they're mostly like the fine lady's fat dogs, nayther
good for barking nor butcher's meat, but on'y for
show.
It's them as take advantage that get advantage i'
this world, I think ; folks have to wait long enough
before if s brought to 'em.
I've had my say out, and I shall be th' easier foft
all my lite. There's no pleasure i' living if you've to
be corked up forever, and only dribble your mind out
by the sly, like a leaky barrel. I shan't repent say-
ing what I think, if I live to be as old as th' old
Squirt ; and there's little likelihoods, for it scems as
if them as are'nt wanted here are th' only folks as
are'nt wanted i' the other world.
It's a small joke sets men laughing when they sit
a-staring at one anccher wi' a pipe i' their mouths.
Give Bartle Massay his way, and he'd have all the
LOST AND FOUND. 77
sharpness to himself. If the chaffcutter had the
making of us, we should all be straw, I reckon.
I'm not one o' those as can see the cat i' the dairy,
an* wonder what she's come after.
Scarceness o' victual 'uU keep ; there's no need to
be hasty wi' the cooking. An' scarceness is what
there's the biggest stock of i' the country.
It's hard work to tell which is Old Harry when
everybody's got boots on.
LOST AND FOUND.
READ BY J. M. BELLEW.
Some miners were sinking a shaft in Wales —
(i) (I know not whdre, — but the facts have fill'd
A chink in my br'ain, while other tales
Have been swept away as when pearls are spill'd,
One pearl rolls into a chink in the floor ;
— Somfewher'e, | then, where God's light is kilP'd,
And men fear in the darkat the earth's heart-coVe,)
(2) These men were at work, when their axes knock'd
A hole in a passage closed years before.
(1) Read the parenthetic clauses In a lower tone to "heart-core.'
(2) Hesume higher tone-
78 lewis's readings and recitations.
A slip in the earth, I supp'ose, had block'd
This gallety suddenly up, with a heap
Of rubble, as safe as a chest is lock'd,
Till these men picked it ; and 'gan to creep
In, on all-fours. Then a load shout ran
Round the black roof — ^^ Hare's a md'n asUep /" ( i )
They all pushed forward, and scarce a span
From the mouth of the passage, in sooth, the lamp
Fell on the upturned face^ | of a man.
(2) No taint of death, no decaying damp
Had touched that fair young brow, whereon
Courage had set its glorious stamp.
Calm as a monarch upon his throne,
Lips hard clench'd, no shadow of fear
He sat there taking his rest\ | mlone.
He must have been there for many a year'.
The spi'rif \ had fled; but there was its shrinty
In clothes of a century old or near !
The dry and embalming air of the mine
Had arrested the natural hand of decay,
Nor faded the flesh, nor dimm'd a line.
(1) Loud and startling.
(2) Read this and nine succeeding: sts^nzat in a Bolenm ba4 dignified and
revtsren^ial tona
LOST AND FOUND. 79
Who was he, then ? No man could s'ay
When the passage had suddenly fallen in —
Its mi^mory^ even, was past away I
In their great rough arms, begrimed with coal,
They took him up (as a tender lass
Will carry a babe,) from that darksome ho'le,
To the outer world of the short warm gra^ss.
Then up spoke one, "Let us send for Biss^
She is seventy-nine come, Martin'mass ;
Older than any one here I gu'ess f
Belike, she may mind \ when the wall/;// there,
And remeraber the chap by his comeliness,**
So they brought old Bess Mrith her silver hair,
To the side of the hill where the dead nian lay,
Ere the flesh had crumbled in outer air.
And the crowd around him all gave way,
(i) As with tottering steps old Bess drew nigh.
And bent o'er the face of the unchanged clay.
Then suddenly rang a sharp low cr'y /. . • .
(sj) Bess sank on her knees and wildly toss'd
Her withered arms in the summer sky. . . .
(1) Change to the tone and slow manner of agfe.
Vl^ Start, uttering "cry," in a wild wailing tone.
OKJ lewis's readings and recitations.
(i) "O Willie ! Willie ! my la'd ! my lo'st !
The Lord be prais'ed ! after sixty years'
I see you ag'ain ! The tears you cost,
O Willie darlin/ were bitter teaVs !
They never looked for ye under^ro' wid^
They told me a td^li" \ to mock my fears !
They said ye were auver the sea — ^ye'd found
A lass ye loved better nor me, to explain
How ye'd a-vanish'd fra sight and sound !
* ■ * _
Darlin', a long, long life o' pain
(2) I ha' lived since th'en ! . , . . And now Fm 'old,
'Seems almost as if youth were come back again,
Seeing ye there wi' your locks o' gold, ,
And limbs as straight as ashen beams, ...
1 s'most forget how the years ha' r'olled
(3) Between us ! O Willie ! how strange it seems
To see ve here as I've seen ye oft, ....
Auver and auver again in drea'ms I"
In broken words like these, with soft
Low wails she rock'd herself. And none
Of the rough men around her scoff'd.
n) Hit(h pitch, but slow and wailing tone.
(2) Tho woinar. hero ( hans^ea to dr«jAmin«8S ; but m the wordi,'*0 WUlie,**
the wailing U>ne in rosiumed.
(3) bVum thin staitea to the ond read with soHmnity and pathot.
LOST AND FOUND. 81
For surely a sight like this, the sun
Had rarely looked upon. Face to face,
The old dead love, and the living one !
The dead, with its undimm'd fleshly grace.
At the end of threescore years ; the quick,
Puckered, and withered, without a trace
Of its warm girl-beauty 1 A wizard's trick
Bringing the yov*^ rrd the love that were,
Back to the eyeb J; "Id and sick !
Those bodies were jusu oi one age ; yet there
Death, clad in youth, had been standing still,
While Life had been fretting itself threadbare !
But the moment was gone ; — (as a moment wi:'.
To all who have loved, and have parted here.
And have to^^'d alone up the thorny hill ;
When, at the top, as their eyes see clear,
Over the mists in the vale below,
Mere specks their trials and toils appear,
Beside the eternal rest t^-y know !)
Death came to uid Bess tnat night, and gave
The welcome summons that she should go.
And now though the rains, and winds may rave
Nothing can part them. Deep and wide,
The miners that evening dug one gr^ve.
And there, while the summers a*id winters gli^*
Old Bess and vount? Wi^He sleep side by side.
82 lewis's readings and recitations.
HAN'S BABY.
So help me gracious, efery day
I laugh me vild to saw her vay
My schmall young baby dries to play
Dot funny leetle baby.
Vhen 1 look of dhem leetle toes,
Und saw dot funny leetle nose,
"More like his fader efery day,"
I vos so proud like plazes.
Sometimes dere comes a leetle schquall,
Dot's vhen her vindy vind vill crawl.
Righd in his leetle stchomach schmall,
Dot's too bad for der baby.
Dot makes him sing at night so schveet,
Und gorrybarrick he must ead,
Und I must chump sphry on my feet
To help dot leetle baby.
He bulls my nose und kicks my hair,
Und grawls me ofer eferywhere,
Und shlobbers me— but vat I care ?
Dot vas my schmall young baby.
Around my head dot leetle arm
Vas schquosin me :>o nice and warm —
O I may dere nefer coom some harm
To dot schmall leetle baby.
WITHOUT THE CHILDRRN. 83
WITHOUT THE CHILDREN.
Oh, the weary, solemn silence
Of a house without the children ;
Oh, the strange, oppressive stillness^
Where the children come no more.
Ah ! the longing of the sleepless
For the soft arms of the children,
Ah ! the longing for the faces
Peeping through the opening door-
Faces gone for evermore 1
Strange it is to wake at midnight
And not hear the children breathing,
Nothing but the old clock ticking,
Ticking, ticking by the door.
Strange to see the little dresses
Hanging up there all the morning ;
And the gaiters — ah ! their patter.
We will hear it never more
On our mirth-forsaken floor I
What is home without the children ?'
Tis the earth without its verdure,
And the sky without the sunshine ;
Life is withered to the core !
So we'll leave this dreary desert,
And we'll follow the Good Shepherd
84 lewis's readings and recitations.
To the greener pastures vernal,
Where the lambs have **done before,"
With the Shepherd evermore !
Oh ! the weary, solemn silence
Of a house without. the children ;
Oh, the strange, oppressive stillness,
Where the children come no more !
Ah ! the iongmg of the sleepless
For the sott arms of the children ;
Ah ! the longing for the faces
Peeping through the opening door-*
Faces gone for evermore !
THE YARN OF TKE NANCY BELL.
READ BY J. M. BELLEW.
[To be read in the style of an old sailor. The dialogue of the
elderly naval man was given by Mr. Bellew in a sort of droll
chanting tone. The reader may deliver it in a monotonous
sing-song, accompanied by appropriate seaman-like action.]
Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Ramsgate span,
That I found alone on a piece of stone
An elderly naval man.
HiS hair was weedy, his beard was long,
And weedy and long was he,
And 1 heard this wight on the shore recite
In a singular minor key :
THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL. 85
"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig !"
«
And he shook his fists, and he tore his hair,
Till I really felt afraid,
For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drink-
ing.
And so I simply said :
(i)" Oh, elderly man, it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
And I'll eat my hand if I understand
How you can possibly b'e
" At once a cook and a captain bold.
And the mate of the Nancy brig.
And a bo'sun tigl.^, and a midshipmite.
And the crew of the captain's gig."
Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn.
And having got rid of a thumpin' quid,
He spun this painful yam :
" Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell
That we sailed to the Indian sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.
(1) ImiUte the Bintf-song of tho '*co<>k."
86 Lewis's readings and recitations.
'• And prelty nigh all o' the crew was drowned,
(There was seventy-seven o* soul)
And only ten of the Nances men
Said * Here !' to the muster roll.
«*^ There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold,
And the mate of the Na?icy brig,
And the bo'si tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.
*' For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a-hungry we did feel,
So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot
The captain for our meal.
" The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,
And a delicate dish he made ;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.
* And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig ;
Then we wittled free, '^id the cook and ine,
On tne crew of <^h ain's gig.
" Then only the u "1| ne was left,
And the delicate ^ »n, * Which
Of us two goes to tl ..». Y arose,
And we argued it c s sich.
THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL. 87
" For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshipped me ;
But we*d both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
In the other chap's hold, you see.
" * I'll be eat if you dines of me/ says Tom,
* Yes, that, says I, * you'll be.'
* I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I ,
And, * Exactly so,' quoth he.
" Says he, * Dear James, to murder rae
Were a foolish thing to do,
For don't you see that you can't cook me^
While I can — and will cook you V
" So he boils the water and takes the salt
And the pepper in portions true,
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot
And some sage and parsley too.
** * Come here,* says he, with a proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell,
* 'Twill soothing be if I let you see
How extremely nice you'll smell.'
" And he stirred it round and round and round,
And he sniffed at the foaming froth —
When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals
In the scum of the boiling broth.
S8 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
" And I eat that cook in a week or less,
And — as I eating be
The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see.
<* And I never grieve, and I never smile,
And I never larf nor play,
But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have — which is to say :
" Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig !"
THE MURDER OF NANCY.- 89
THE MURDER OF NANCY.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
(From Oliver Twist)
Charles Dickens read tlie following terrible scene before a
number of literary friends and critics ; and although highly sen-
sational, the reading was approved and pronounced to be suit-
able for delivery. It was afterwards read publicly by Dickens
with great success. Characters : Fagin, a low Jew and receiver
of stolen goods ; Bill Sikes, a housebreaker and London
thief, cruel and brutal ; Nancy, a lost woman, companion of
Bill Sikes ; Noah Claypole, a London pickpocket. To
understand these characters so as to form a proper conception of
the scene, the reader is referred to Oliver Twiet, The reading
is an awful and vivid illustration of criminal life and its conse-
quences ' nd therefore valuable for the moral lesson it conveys.
The Jew speaks in a high falsetto pitch, in great excitement,
and with a broken English accent. His hatred, however, is in
no sense comic, but marked by the terrors of tragedy. The
speech of Sikes is rough, deep-toned, and passionate. The
manner of N'ancy is at first quiet and tender ; then it becomes
alarmed and marked by extreme terror ; and in her entreaties
for life her speech is hurried and intensely earnest. No reader
should attempt this scene without thoughtful study.
It was nearly two hours before daybreak — the
time which in the autumn of the year may be truly
called the dead of night ; when the streets are silent
and deserted, when even sound appears to slumber,
and profligacy and riot have staggered home to dream
— it was at this still and silent hour that the Jew sat-
90 LEWIS'S READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
watching in his old lair, with face so distorted and
pale, and eyes so red and bloodshot, that he looked
less like a man than some hideous phantom, moist
from the grave, and worried by an evil spirit.
He sat crouching over a cold hearth, wrapped in an
old torn coverlet, with his face turned towards a
wasting candle that stood upon the table by his side.
His right hand was raised to his lips, and as, absorbed
in thought, he bit his long black nails, he disclosed
among his toothless gums, a few such fangs as should
have been a dog's or rat's.
Stretched upon a mattress upon the floor lay Noah
Claypole, fast asleep. Towards him the old man
sometimes directed his eyes for an instant, then
brought them back again to the candle, which, with
long-burnt wick drooping almost double, and hot
grease falling down in clots upon the table, plainly
showed that his thoughts were busy elsewhere.
Indeed they were. Mortification at the overthrow
of his notable scheme, hatred of the girl who had
dared to palter with strangers, an utter distrust of the
sincerity of her refusal to yield him up, bitter disap-
pointment at the loss of his revenge on Sikes, the
fear of detection, and ruin, and death, and a fierce
and deadly rage kindled by all, — these were the pas-
sionate considerations which, following close upon
each other with rapid and ceaseless whirl, shot
through the brain of Fagin, as every evil thought and
blackest purpose lay working at his heart.
He sat without changing his attitude in the least,
or appearing to take the smallest heed of time, until
•I«HE MURDEk OF NANC\. 91
his quick ear seemed to be attracted by a footstep in
the street
(i) "At last," muttered the Jew, wiping his dry
and fevered mouth, " At last."
The bell rang gently as he spoke. He crept up
stairs to the door, and presently returned, accom-
panied by a man muffled to the chin, who carried a
bundle under one arm. Sitting down, and throwing
back his outer coat the man displayed the burly
frame of Sikes.
" There," he said, laying the bundle on the table,
(2) " Take care of that, and do the most you can
with it. It 's been trouble enough to get , I thought
I should have been here three hours ago."
Fagin laid his hand upon the bundle, and locking
it in the cupboard, sat down again without speaking.
But he did not take his eyes off the robber for an
instant during this action, and now that they sat over
against each other, face to face, he looked fixedly at
him, with his lips quivering so violently, and his face
so altered by the emotions which had mastered him,
that the housebreaker involuntarily drew back his
chair, and surveyed him with a look of real afright.
" Wot now ? " cried Sikes. " What do you look at
a man so for ? — Spe'ak, will yo'u ? "
The Jew raised his right hand, and shook his trem-
bling forefinger in the air, but his passion was so great
that the power of speech was for the moment gone.
(1) Low— half whisper.
(2) Sulkily.
92 LEWIS'S READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
" D — me ! '* said Sikes, feeling in his breast with a
'ook of alarm. " He 's gone mad. I must look to
myself here.'*
" No, no," rejoined Fagan, finding his voice. " It 's
not — you 're not the person, Bill I Ve no — no fault
to find with ydu,^^
** Oh, you haven 't, haven 't you ? '' said Sikes, look-
ing sternly at him, and ostentatiously passing a pistol
into a more convenient pocket. " That 's lucky— for
one of us. Which one that is, don 't matter."
(i) " I Ve got that to tell you, Bill," said the Jew,
drawing his chair nearer, " will make you worse than
me."
"A'y?" returned the robber w.'ch an incredulous
air. **Tell aw'ay. Look sharp, or Nance will think
I 'm lost."
" Lost ! " cried Fagin. " She has pretty well settled
that in her own mind already.**
Sikes looked with an aspect of great perplexity into
the Jew's face, and leading no satisfactory explanation
of the riddle there, clenched his coat collar in his huge
hand, and shook him soundly.
(2) " Speak, will you !" he said ; " or if you don *t,
it shall be for want of briath. Open your mouth,
and say what you Ve get to say in plain words. Out
with it, you thundering old cur, out with it"
" Suppose that lad that 's lying there——" Fagan
began.
THE MURDER OF NANCY. 93
Sikes turned round to where Noah was sleeping, as
if he had not previously observed him. Well,'' he
said, resuming his former position.
" Suppose that lad," pursued the Jew, "was to peach
— blow upon us all — first seeking out the right folks
for the purpose, and then havmg a meeting with 'em
in the street to paint our likenesses, describe every
mark that they might kno'w u's by, and the crib where
we might be most easily taken. Suppose he was to
do all this, and, besides, to blow upon a plant we've
all been in, more or less — of his own fancy ; not grab-
bed, trapped, tried, earwigged by the parson, and
brought to it on bread and water, — but of his own
fancy; (i) to please his own taste; steaHng out at
nights to find those most interested against us, and
peaching to them. Do you hear me?" cried the
Jew, his eyes flashing with rage. ** Suppose he did
all this, what then ?"
**VVhat then !" replied Sikes, with a tremendous
oath. " If he was left alive till /came, I'd grind hb
skull under the iron heel of my boot into as many
grains as there are hairs upon his head."
" What if / did it !" cried the Jew, almost in a yell.
" / that know so much, and could hang so many be-
sides myself !"
" I don't know," rcpUcd Sikes, clenching his teeth,
and turning white at the mere suggestion " I'd do
something in the jail that *ud get me put in irons ;
and if I was tried along with you, I'd fall upon you
(i)P/oU«t*'rM«i
94 lewis's readings and recitations.
with them in the open court, and beat your brains out
afore the people, I should have such strength," mut-
tered the robber, poising his brawny arm, '* that I
could smash your head as u a loaded waggon had
gone over it."
" You would ?"
" Would I !" said the housebreaker Try me."
" If it was Chkrley, or the Do'dger, or B6t, or "
"I don't care w'Jio^^ replied Sikes impatiently.
''Whoever it was, I'd serve them the same."
Fagm again looked hard at the robber, and motion-
ing him to be silent, stoo^ ud over the bed upon the
floor, and shook the sleeper to rouse him. Sikes
leant forward in his lair, looking on, with his hands
upon his knees, as if wondermg much what all this
questioning and preparation was to end m.
" Bolter ! Bolter ! Poor lad !" said Fagin, looking
up with an expression of devilish anticipation, and
speaking slowly, and with marked emphasis. "He's
tired — tired with watching for her {i) so long, — watch-
ing for her^ Bill."
" Wot d'ye mean ?" asked Sikes, drawing back.
The Jew made no answer, but bending over the
sleeper again, hauled him into a sitting posture.
When his assumed name had been repeated several
times, Noah rubbed his eyes, and giving a heavy
yawn, looked sleepily about him.
" Tell me that again — once again, just for him to
hear," said the Jew, pointing to Sikci, as he spoke.
0) Prolong "htr."
THE MURDER OF NANCY. 95
" Tell yer what ?'* asked the sleepy Noah, shaking
himself pettishly.
"That about — Nancy," said the Jew. clutching
Sikes by the wrist, as if to prevent his leaving the
house before he had heard enough. " You followed
her !"
" Yes."
" To London Bridge ?"
" Yes.''
" Where she met two people ? *
'* So she did."
" A gentleman, and a lady that she had gone to ol
her own accord before, who asked her to give up all
pals and Monks first, which she did ; and to describe
him, which she did ; and to tell her what house it
was that we met at, and go to, which she did ; and
where it could be best watched from, which she did ;
and what time the people went there, which she did.
She did all this. She told it all, every word, without
a threat, without a murmur — ^she did— didn't she?'*
cried the Jew, half mad with fury.
''AH right." replied Noah, scratching his head.
" That's just what it was."
'* What did they say about last Sunday?" demanded
the Jew.
" About last Sunday ?" replied Noah, considering.
" Why, I told yer that before."
" Again. Tell it again !" cried Fagin, tightening
his grasp on Sikes, and brandishing his other hand
aloft as the foam flew from his lips.
•*They asked her," said Noah, who, as he grew
96 lewis's readings and recitations.
more wakeful, seemed to have a dawning perception
who Sikes was, " they asked her why she didn't come
last Sunday as she promised. She said she couldn't — "
"Why — why?" interrupted the Jew, triumphantly,
(i) " Tell him that.''
" Because she was forcibly kept at home by Bill,
the man she had told them of before," replied Noah.
" What more of him ?" cried the Jew. ** What
more of the man she had told them of before. Tell
him that— tell him that."
"Why, that she couldn't very easily get out of
doors unless he knew where she was going to," said
Noah ; " and so the first time she went to see the
lady, she — ha ! ha ! ha ! it made me laugh when she
said it, that did, — she gave him a drink of laudanum.''
(2) " Hell's fire !" cried Sikes, breaking fiercely from
the Jew. " Let me go !"
Flinging the old man from him, he rushed from the
room, and darted wildly and furiously up the stairs.
" Bill, Bill !" cried the Jew, following him hastily.
" A word. Only a word."
The word would not have been exchanged, but
that the hoiisebrealier was unable to open the door,
on which he was expending fruitless oaths and vio-
lence when the Jew came panting up.
(3) " Let me out !" said Sikes. " Don't speak to
me — it's not safe. Let me out, I say."
(1) Very excited, almost to scrcaminf^, and expressive of terrible hatred.
(2) Burst of fury, voice high and loud ; fMiig out the anus m* if helU by
■onie owe.
(8) Deep, 8U|>pre8.sed raj^ and determinti i m.
THE MURDER OF NANCY. 97
** Hear me speak a word," rejoined the Jew, laying
his hand upon the lock, " you won't be "
" Well," replied the other.
" You won't be — too — violent, Bill ?" whined tht
Jew.
The day was breaking, and there was light enough
for the men to see each other's faces. They excharge
ed one brief glance ; there was a fire in the eyes of
both which could not be mistaken.
" I mean," said Fagin, showing that he felt all dis-
guise was now useless " not too violent for safety. Be
crafty. Bill, and not too bold."
Sikes made no reply, but, pulling open the door,
of which the Jew had turned the lock, dashed into the
silent street
Without one pause or moment's consideration,
without once turning his head to the right or left, or
raising his eyes to the sky, or lowering them to the
ground, but looking straight before him with savage
resolution, his teeth so tightly compressed that the
strained jaw seemed starting through liis skin, the
robber hcid on his headlong course, nor muttered a
word, nor relaxed a muscle, until he reached his own
door. He opened it sofdy with a key, strode lightly
up the stairt; and entering his own room, double-
locked the door, and lifting a heavy table against it,
drew back the curtain of the bed.
The girl was lying half dressed upon it He had
wakened her from her sleep, for she raised herself
with a hurried and startled look.
" Get up," said the man.
98 lewis's readings and recitations.
(i) "It is you, Bill," said the girl, with an expres-
sion of pleasure at his return.
(2) '' It is," was the reply. " Get up/'
There was a candle burning, but the man hastily
drew it from the candlestick, and hurled it under the
grate. Seeing the faint light of early day without, the
girl rose to undraw the curtain.
(3) "Let it be," said Sikes, thrusting his hand
before her. "Theif^'s light enough for wot /Ve got
to do."
" Bill," said the girl, in the low voice of alarm,
why do you look like that at me ?**
The robber sat regarding her for a few seconds
with dilated nostrils and heaving breast, and then
grasping her by the head and throat, dragging her
into the middle of the room, and looking once towards
the doDr, placed his heavy liand upon her mouth.
(4) •* Bill, Bill — " gasped the girl, wrestling with
the strength of mortal fear, " — I — won't scream, or
cry — not once, — hear me — speak to me — tell me
what I have done !"
(5) " You know, you she-dtvii f* returned the rob-
ber, suppressing his breath. "You were watched
to-night ; every word you said was heard.**
(6) " Then, spare my life, for the love of Heaven,
(1) Tenderly.
(2) Low surly tones.
(3) With sternest tones and looks.
(4) Not loud,— but in tones of suppresf^ed terror.
{h) These words are uttered \vitli uniiiious slowness, distinctness, and
expres.ufju of malignant hatred,
(0) All thi3 8i>eech must be gWen as in tne terror «)( death, !Mit with the
tender ncas of a wcmjio
THE MURDER OF NANCY. 99
as I spared yours," rejoined the girl^ clinging to him.
*^ Bill, dear Bill ! you cannot have the heart to kill
me ! Oh, think of all I have given up only this one
night for yo'u. You shall have time to think, and
save yourself this crime ! I will not loose my hold ;
you cannot throw me oft. Bill ! Bill ! for dear God's
sake, for your own, for mine, stop before you spill my
blood. I have been true to you ; upon my ^ilty soul
I haver
The man struggled violently to release his arms,
but those of the girl were clasped round his, and,
tear her as he would, he could not tear them away.
(i) " Bill," cried the girl, striving to lay her head
upon his breast, " the gentleman, and that dear lady,
told me to-night of a home in some foreign country,
where I could end my days in solitude and peace.
Let me see them again, and beg them on my knees
to show the same mercy and goodness to you, and
let us both leave this dreadful place, and far apart
lead better lives, and forget how we have lived, except
n prayers, and never see each other more. It is
lever too late to repent. They told me so — I feel it
iiow — but we must have time — a little, little time !"
(2) The housebreaker freed one arm, and grasped
his pistol. The certainty Oi* immediate detection if
he fired, flashed across his mind, even in the midst
of his fury, and he beat it twice with all the force he
(I) Sustain the pisslonate entreaty for life, with hurried hut distinct
i>o8ed to be before the readier.
100 lewis's readings and RECITATICi^S.
could summon, upon the upturned face that almost
touched his own.
(i) She staggered and fell, nearly blinded with the
blood that rained down from c deep gash in her fore-
head, but raising with difficulty on her knees, drew
from her bosom a white handkerchief — Rose Maylie's
own — and holding it up in her folded hands as high
toward Heaven as her feeble strength would let her,
breathed one prayer for mercy to her Maker.
(2) It was a ghastly figure to look upon. The
murderer staggered backward to the ^'all, and shut-
ting out the sight with his hand, seized a heavy club
and struck her down.
(1) Deepest pataon.
(2) Samo ai 17.
A SOCIAL SCIENCE VALENTINE lOl
A SOCIAL SCIENCE VALENTINE.
BY THOMAS ARCHER.
Orgillous maid, whose cniel scorn
Twould be gnathonical to say
It too mordacious to be borne,,
Though in an opertaneous way ;
Let me coacervate a few
Ambagious words amarulent,
Ludifjcatory, but true,
Ere I become so macilent,
That without voice to ululate
My lov*d one's luctisonous name,
My honour I impignorate,
And raise a temulentive flame.
A quodlibetical ess'ay
Might stir adiaphoric souls ;
But I am bolary — and clay
In one fixed advolution rolls.
You call me oscitant, — ah ! well,
Obtenebration hides my tears ;
I may become sejungible,
When labefaction comes with years.
Exequial nights, egestuous days,
No nummary relief can soothe, —
No xenodochium allays
Radicate thirst with " Bass' or " Booth/'
102 lewis's readings and recitations,
Unaccendible paradigm !
Call not this efFutitious prate ;
'Tis ecphonesis, though it seem
But babbling to balbucinate.
The humble orthoceratite,
The acp^thopterygious skate,
Campestral flowers growing white
Or candicant, vivificate
Numerous entities, — for they
Concatenate in one great chain,
Divellicated day by day,
In dread dispiioria I complain.
Were I a logodaedalist,
And not meticulously meek,
I*d make each epithet a fist
To smite your etiolated cheek.
But no ! deuteroscopi.. thought
Forbids my uttering a groan ;
Huxley will tell me it is naught,
And Darwin clainis me for his own.
JOHN BROWN. 103
JOHN BROWN.
CHARLES MACKAY.
I've a guinea I can spend,
I've a wife and IVe a friend,
And a troop of little children at my knee,
John Brown.
IVe a cottage of my own,
With the ivy overgrown,
And a garden with a view of the sea,
John Brown.
I can sit at my door,
And viev my sycamore,
Large of heart though of very small estate,
John Brown.
So come and drain a glass.
In the arbor jis you pass,
And I'll tell you what I love and what I hate,
John Brown.
I love the song of bi'rds,
And the children's early wo'rds.
And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet,
John Ikowa
104 lewis's readings and recitations.
And I hate a false pretence,
And the want of common sense,
And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit,
John Brown.
I love the meadow flowers.
And the briar in the bowers,
And I love an open face without guile,
John Brown.
And I hate a selfish knave,
And a proud contented slave,
And a lout who'd rather borrow than he'd toil,
John Brown.
I love a simple song.
That makes emotion strong,
And the word of hope that raises him who faints,
John Brown.
And I hate the constant whine,
Of the foolish who repine,
And turn their good to evil by complaints,
John Brown.
But even when I hate,
If I seek my garden gate,
And survey the world around and above,
John Brown,
JOHN BROWN. 105
The hatred flies my m'ind,
And I sigh for human kin'd,
And excuse the faults of those I cannot lo've,
John Brown.
So if you like my ways,
And the comfort of my days,
I can tell you how I live so unvexed,
John Brown.
I never scorn my health,
Nor sell my soul for wealth,
Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next.
John Brown.
I've parted with my pride,
And I take the sunny side,
For I've found it worse than folly to be sad,
John Brown.
I keep my conscience clear,
I've a hundred pounds a year,
And I manage to exist and be glad,
John Brown.
106 Lewis's readings and recitations.
" CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT."
England's sun, bright setting o'er the hills so far
away,
Filled the land with misty beauty, at the close of
one sad day ;
And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man
and maiden fair —
He with step so slow and weary ; she with sunny,
floating hair ;
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she
with lips so cold and white,
Struggled to keep back the murmur, "Curfew
must not r'ing to-night." (i)
(2) "Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pomting
to the prison old,
With its walls so tall and gloomy, walls so dark
and damp and cold—
"I've a lover in that prison, doomed this very
night to die
At the ringing of the curfew; and no earthly
help is nigh.
(1) Commence In low but r-mcst tones. Avoid rejwatlnjf " Ciirfew muft
not rin^ to Jiiuht" in tlse wiine way.
(2) B^ad tliiD ttouxft with tremor, heiutAQcy, aud Hoftueee of tone.
"curfew must not ring tonight." 107
Cromwell will not come till su. :et," and her face
grew strangely white,
(i) As she spoke in husky whispers : "Curfew must
not ring io-ni'ghty
(2) "Bessie," calmly spoke mf* sexton (every word
pierced her young heart
Like a thousand gleaming arrows — like a deadly-
poisoned dart),
" Long, long years I've rung the curfew from that
gloomy shadowed tower ;
Every evening, just at sunset, it has tolled the
twilight hour ;
I have done my duty ever^ tried to do it just and
right;
Now I'm old, I will not miss it Girl, the curfew
rin'gs to-night T
Wild her eyes and pale her features, stem and
white her thoughtful brow ;
And, within her heart's deep centre, Bessie made
a sol"*^- .^
She nad listened, whuc ^.t judges read, without
a tear or sigh, —
** At the ringing of the curfew, Basil Underwood
must die.**
(1> Read In husky whisper, but decided.
r"*.) Cluuigo to roMxiX^ lontM iaI flraiuMS, eiidiug with gr«4 •ternnMa^
108 lewis's readings and recitations.
And her breath came fast and faster ; and her
eyes grew large and bright ;
One low murmur, scarcely spoken, " Curfew must
NOT ring to-night."
(i) She with ght step bounded forward, sprang
within the old church-doer,
Left the old man coming slov/ly, paths he'd trod
so oft before ,
Not one moment paused the ma'iden, but, with
cheek and brow aglo'w,
Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell
swung to and fro ;
Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, without
one ray of light.
Upward, still her pale lip saying, " Curfew shall
NOT ring to-night" "
She has reached the topmost laddSr; o'er her
hangs the great dark bell ;
And the awful gloom beneath her, like the path-
way down to hell ;
(2) Sic/ the ponderous tongut is swingeing; 'tis the
hour of curfew now ;
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her
breath, amd J>aled Yier brow.
(1) Hii^hcr pitch, quicker movement, more animation.
^2) Aotkni Mui iou« of ftUnu ; ouUtretched arm, a* if to atop th« Ml.
^* CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT." 109
(i) Shall she let it ring! No, never ! Her eyes
flash with sudden light,
As she springs^ and grasps it firmly, " Curfew
SHALL NOT ri'ng to-night."
Out j she swung— 3/ar out : the city seemed a
tiny speck below —
(2) There, 'twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the
bell swung to and fro ;
And the half-dead sexton ringing (years he had
not heard the bell) ;
And he thought the twilight curfew rang young
Basil's funeral knell :
Still the maiden, clinging liimly, cheek and brow
so pale and white,
(3) Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating: "CV^-
few shall not ring to-night, ^^
It was der: the bell ceased swaying; and the
maiden stepped once more
Firmly | on the damp old ladder, where for hun-
dred years before,
Human foot had not been planted ; and what
she this night had do'ne
Should be told loiig ages after. As the rays of
setting sun
n) Voice ^rowf hisrher and more animated ; great emphailt ou " never. **
(2> imittttive action, dwelling lony-er on '• iwung;.**
(3) D«M»p, but determined tomse.
110 lewis's readings and recitations.
Light the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires,
with heads of white,
(i) Tell the children why the curfew did not ring
that one sad night
O'er the distant hills came Cromwell : Bessie saw
him ; and her brow,
Lately ivhite with sickening horror^ glows with
sudden beauty now ;
(2) At his feet she told her story, showed her hands
all bruised and torn ;
And her sweet young face so haggard^ with a look
so sad and wo'm.
Touched his heart \ with sudden ptty^ lit his eyes
with misty light :
(3) " Go ! your lover lives," cried Cromwell : "cur-
few shall not ring to-night J^
(1) Slow and mournful.
(2) With ^TCiit fcelinjf.
(S) With di^uity aud flmmois, and m if trjiug U> ooucoal hii fMlinga.
AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. Ill
AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE.
BY LEIGH HUNT.
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright.
Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight,
An angel came to us, and we could bear
To see him issue through the silent air
At evening in our room, and bend on ours
His divint eyes, and bring us from his bowers
News of dear friends, and children who have never
Been dead indeed — as we shall know forever.
Alas ! we think not what we daily see
About our hearths — ^angels, that are to be,
Or may be if they will, and we prepare
Their souls and ours to meet in happy air :
A child, a friend, a wife whose soft heart sings
In unison with ours, breeding its future wings.
>.;.
112 lewis's readings and recitations.
POOR LITTLE JOE.
BY PELEO AKKWRIGHT.
Prop yer eyes wide op^n, Joey,
Fur I've brought you sumpin' ^eat,
Apples ? No a derned sight better !
Don't you take no int'rest ? Wait ?
Floivers, Joe — I know'd you'd like *em —
Ain't them scrumptious ? Ain't them high ?
Tears, my boy? Wot's them fur, Joey?
There — poor little Joe ! — don't cry !
I was skippin' past a winder,
Where a bang-up lady sot,
All amongst a lot of bushes —
Each one climbin' from a pot ;
Every bush had flowers on it —
Pretty ? Mebbe not ! Oh, no !
Wish you could a seen 'em growin*,
It was such a stunnin' show.
Well, I thought of you, poor feller j
Lyin' here so sick and weak.
Never knowin' any comfort.
And I puts on lots o' cheek.
" Missus," says I, " If you please, mum, "
Could I ax you for a rose ?
For my little brother, missus —
Never seed one. I suDDOse."
POOR LITTLE JOE. 11?
Then I told her all about you —
How I bringed you up — poor Joe !
(Lackin' woman folks to do it.)
Such a' imp you ^^% you know —
Till yer get that awi..l t imbie,
Just as I had broke yer in
(Hard work, too,) to earn yer livin'
Blackin' boots for honest tin.
How that tumble crippled of you,
So's you couldn't hyper much —
Joe, It hurted when I seen you
For the first time with yer crutch.
" But," I says, " he's laid up now, mum,
Tears to weaken every day ;
Joe, she up and went to cuttin' —
That's the how of this bokay.
Say ! It seems to me, ole feller,
You is quite yerself to-night ;
Kind o' chirk — its been a fortnit
Sence yer eyes has been so bright
Better I Well, I'm glad to hear it 1
Yes they're mighty pretty, Joe.
Smellin' of 'em's made you happy ?
Well, I thought it would, you know I
Never see the country, did you ?
Flowers growin* everywhere !
Some time when you're better, Joey,
Mebbe I kin take you there.
114 lewis's readings and recitations.
Flowers in heaven ? M — I s'pose so ;
Dunno much about it, though ;
Ain't as fly as wot I might be
On them topics, little Joe.
But I've heard it hinted somewheres
That in heaven's golden gates
Things is everlastin' cheerful —
B'lieve that's wot the Bible states.
Likewise, there folks don't git hungry ;
So good people, when they dies.
Finds themselves well fixed forever —
Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes ?
Thought they looked a little sing'lar.
Oh, no I Don't you have no fear ;
Heaven was made for such as you is —
Joe, wot makes you look so queer ?
Here — wake up ! Oh, don't look that way !
Joe ! My boy ! Hold up your head !
Here's yer flowers — you dropped 'em, Joey;
Oh, my God, can Joe be dead ?
i
"do this in remembrance of me." 115 '
« DO THIS IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME-"
BY DEAN STANLEY.
When the Paschal evening fell
Deep on Kedron's hallowed dell, '
When around the festal board '
Sate the Apostles with their Lord,
Then His parting word he said,
Blessed the cup and broke the bread —
" This whene'er ye do or see,
Evermore remember Me."
Ages passed : Li every clime,
Changing with the changing clime.
Varying through a thousand forms,
Tom by factions, rock'd by storms,
Still the sacred tables spread,
Flowing cup and broken bread.
With the parting word agree,
" Drink and eat — ^remember Me." *
When by treason, doubt, unrest,
Sinks the soul, dismayed, opprest ;
When the shadows of the tomb
Close us round with deep'ning gloom ;
Then bethink us at that board
Of that sorrowing, suffering Lord,
Who, when tried and grieved as we,
D^dniL said. " Remember Me."
116 lewis's readings and recitations.
When, thro' all the scenes of life,
Hearths of peace and fields of strife.
Friends or foes together meet,
Now to part and now to greet,
Let those holy tokens tell
Of that sweet and sad farewell,
And, in mingled grief, or glee,
Whisper still, " Remember Me."
When diverging creeds shall learn
Toward their central source to turn ;
When contending churches tire
Of the earthquake, wind, and fire ;
Here let strife and clamour cease
At that still, small voice of peace —
** May they all united be
In the Father and in Me."
When, as rolls the sacred year,
Each fresh note of love we hear :
When the Babe, the Youth, the Man,
Full of grace Divine we scan ;
When the mournful Way we tread,
Where for us His blood He shed ;
When on Easter mom we tell
How He conquered Death and Hell ;
When we watch His Spirit true
Heaven and earth transform anew ;
Then with quickened sense we see
Why He said " Remember Me."
A layman's confession of faith. 117
When in this Thanksgiving feast
We would give to God our best,
From the treasures of His might
Seeking life and love and light ;
Then, O friend of human kind,
Make us true and firm of mind,
Pure of heart, and spirit free —
Thus may we remember Thee.
A LAYMAN'S CONFESSION OF FAITH.
BY THEODORE TILTON.
As Other men have creeds, so I have mine,
I keep the holy faith in God, in man,
And in the angels ministrant between ;
I hold to one true church of all true souls,
Whose churchly seal is neither bread, nor wine,
^''or laying on of hands, nor holy oil,—
But only the anointing of God's grace.
I hate all kings and caste and rank of birth,—
For all the sons of men are sons of God ;
Nor limps a beggar but is nobly bom,
Nor wears a slave a yoke, nor Czar a crown
That makes him more or less than just a man.
118 lewis's readings and recitations.
_ 'e my country and her righteous cause,
So dare I not keep silent of her sin ;
And ?*fter freedom may her bells ring Peace !
I love one woman with a holy fire,
Whom I revere as priestess of my house.
I stand with wondering awe before my babes
Till they rebuke me to a nobler life.
I keep a faithful frieiKiship with my friendj
Wtiom loyally I serve before myself.
I lock my lips too close to speak a lie ;
I wash my hands too white to touch a bribe ]
I owe no man a debt I cannot pay,
Save only of the love men ought to owe.
WI^-'.^. each day, before the blessed Heaven
I open wide the chambers of my soul
And pray the Holy Ghost to enter in.
Thus reads the fair confession of my faith,
So crossed with contradictions by my life,
That now may God forgive the written lie !
Yet still, by help of Him who helpeth men,
I face two worlds, and fear not life ..or death.
O Father, lead me by Thy hand 1 Amen.
WIDDER green's LAST WORDS. 119
WIDDER GREENES LAST WORDS.
"I'm goin* to die/' says the Widder Green,
"I'm goin' to quit this earthly scene ;
It ain't no place for me to stay
In such a world as 'tis to-day
Sucli works and ways is too much for me.
Nobody can't let nobody be.
The girls is flounced from top to toe,
An' that's the hull o' what they know,
The men is mad on bonds an' stocks,
Swearin' an' shootin' an' pickin' locks,
I'm real afraid I'll be hanged myself
Ef I ain't laid on my final shelf.
There ain't a creature but knows to-day
I never was lunatic any way,
But sincf* crary folks all go free
I'm dreadful afraid they'll hang up me.
There's another matter that's pesky hard —
I can't go into a neighbour's yard
To say * How be you ?' or borrow a pin
• But what the paper'll have it in,
We're pleased to say the Widder Green
Took dinner a Tuesday with Mrs. Kecnc,'
Or ' Our worthy friend Miss Green lias gon.
Down to Barkhamstead to see her son.'
Great Jerusalem ? can't I stir
Without a risin' some feller's fur ?
120 lewis's readings and recitations.
There ain't no privacy, — so to say,
No more than if this was the Judgment Day.
And as for meetin' — I want to swear
Whenever I put my head in there —
Why even Old Hundred's spiled and done,
Like everything else under the sun ;
It used to be so solemn and slow,
Praise to the Lord from men below —
Now it goes like a gallopin' steer,
High diddle diddle ! there and here. ^
No respect to the Lord above,
No more'n ef he was hand and glove
With all the creeturs he ever made,
And all the jigs that ever was played.
Preachin*, too, — but here Tm dumb,
But I tell you what ! I'd like it some
Ef good old Parson, Nathan Strong,
Out o' his grave would come along.
An' give us a stirrin' taste o' fire —
Judgment an' Justice is my desire.
'Taint all love an' sickish sweet
That makes this world nor t'other complete.
But law ! I'm old ! I'd better be dead
When the world's a turn in' over my head ;
Sperits talkin' like 'tarnal fools.
Bibles kicked out o' deestrict schools,
Crazy creeturs a murderin' round-
Honest folks better be under ground.
So fare-ye-well ! this airtlily scene
Won't no more be pestered by Widder Green;*
STORV OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL. v 121
THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL.
BY ADELAIDE PROCTER.
READ BY J. M. BELLEW.
The fettered spirits, linger
In purgatorial pain,
With penal fires effacing
Their last faint earthly stain,
Which Life's imperfect sorrow
Had tried to cleanse in vain.
Yet, on each feast of Mary,
Their sorrow finds release.
For the Great Archangel Michael
Comes down and bids it cease ;
And the name ot these brief respites
Is called " Our Lady's Peace."
Vet once — so runs the legend—
When the Archangel came,
And all th se holy spirits
Rejoiced at Mary's name,
One voice alone was wailing,
Still wailing on the same.
And though a great Te Deum
The happy echoes woke,
122 lewis's readings and recitations.
This one discordant wailing
Through the sweet voices broke :
So when St Michael questioned,
Thus the poor spirit spoke :
" I am not cold or thankless,
Although I still complain ;
I prize our Lady's blessing,
Although it comes in vain
To still my bittei anguish,
Or quench my ceaseless pain.
" On earth a heart that loved me
(i) Still lives I and mourns me there,
And the shadow of his anguish
Is more \ than I can bear ;
All the torment that I suffer
Is the thought of his despair.
" The evening of my bridal,
Death took my life away ;
Not all love's passionate pleading
Could gain an hour's delay,
And he I left has suffered
2) A ivhole year \ since that day.
** If I could only see him—
If I could only go
And speak one word of comfort
il) Pathos and terv
2) Emphasia
STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL.
And so/ace--then I know
He would endure with patience,
And strive | against his woe."
Thus the Archangel answered :
" Your time of pain is M(/y
And soon the peace of Heaven
Will give you full relief;
Yet if his earthly comfort
So much outweighs you grief,
** Then, through a special mercy
I offer you this grace —
You may seek him who mourns you,
And look upon his face,
(i) And speak to him of comfort
For one short minutes space.
" But — when that time is ended,
Return here, and remain
A thousand years in torment,
A thousand years in pain ; ,
Thus dearly must you purchase
The comfort | he will gain."
123
(2) The lime-trees' shade at evening
Is spreading broad and wide :
Beneath their fragrant arches,
(1) Solemnly.
(2) Chani^e from soleuin to srentle and diocriul.
124 lewis's readings and recitations.
Pace slowly, side by side,
In low and tender converse,
A Bridegroom and his Bride.
The night is calm and stilly,
No other sound is there
Except their happy voices ;
(i) What is that cold bleak air
That passes through the lime-trees
And stirs ^he Bridegroom's hair
(2) While one low cry of anguish^
Like the last dying wail
Of some dumb, hunted creature,
Is borne upon the gale —
Why does the Bridegroom shudder
And turn so deathly pale i
Near Purgatory's entrance
The radiant Angels wait ;
It was the great St. Michael
Who closed that gloomy gate,
When the poor wandering spirit
Came back to meet her fate.
" Pass on," thus spoke the Angel ;
" Heaven's joy is deep and vast ;
Pass on, pass on, poor spirit,
For Heaven is yours at last ;
In that one | minute's anguish
Your thousand years have passed.
Si
start with ei^preMiun of terror.
,S) Rite in pitch to e]q;)reM pity aud terror.
AT THE CHURCH GATE. 125
AT THE CHURCH GATE.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
Although I enter not
Yet round about the spot
Ofttimes I hover ;
And near the sacred gate,
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.
The minster bell tolls out
Above the city's rout,
And noise and humming.
T!i.?y Ve hushed the minster bell ;
The organ 'gins to swell :
She's coming, she's coming I
My lady comes at last,
Timid, and stepping fast,
And hastening hither,
With modest eyes downcast ;
She comes—she's here, she's past !
May Heaven go with her !
Kneel undisturbed, fair saint f
Pour oiic your praise or plaint
^ieexiy and duly ;
126 lewis's readings and recitations.
I will not enter there,
To sully your pure prayer
With thoughts unruly.
But suffer me to pace
Round the forbidden place.
Lingering a minute,
Like outcast spirits, w im wait,
And see, through Heaven's gate.
Angels within it
TYING HER BONNET UNDER HER CHIN.
BY NORA PERRY.
Tying her bonnet under her chin,
She tied her raven ringlets in ;
But not alone in the silken snare
Did she catch her lovely floating hair,
For, tying her bonnet under her chin,
She tied a young man's heart within.
They were strolling together up the hill,
Where the wind comes blowing merry and chill ;
And it blew the curls, a frolicsome race,
All over the liappy peach-colored face,
Till, scolding and laughing, she tied them in,
Under her beautiful dimpled chin.
TYING HER BONNET UNDER HER CHIN. 127
And it blew a color, bright as the bloom
Of the pinkest fuchsia's tossing plume,
All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl
That ever imprisoned a romping curl,
Or, tying her bonnet under her chin,
'-7 •
Tied a young man's heart within.
Steeper and steeper grew the hill ;
Madder, merrier, chiller still
The western wind blew down, and played
The wildest tricks with the little maid,
As, tying her bonnet under her chin,
She tied a young man's heart within.
O western wind, do you think it was fair
To play such tricks with her floating hair ?
Too gladly, gleefully do your best
To blow her against the young man's breast,
Where he as gladly folded her in.
And kissed her mouth and her dimpled chin ?
Ah ! EUery Vane, you little thought,
An hour ago, when you besought
This country lass to walk with you
After the sun had dried the dew,
What perilous danger you'd be in.
As she tied her bonnet under her chin.
128 lewis's readings and recitations.
VERGISS-MEIN-NICHT.
' By Charles MiLWARD.
The true Legend of the ** Forget-me-not."
[The beautiful little flower so widely known under the name of
"Forget-me-not" is said to have derived its appellation from
the following German tradition : ** Two lovers were saunter-
ing along the banks of a river, when the maiden's attention
was attracted by a cluster of strange-looking flowers floating
on the surface of the stream. The youth, perceiving the ob-
ject on which the maiden's gaze appeared to be riveted as by
a spell, immediately plunged into the water, and secured the
floral treasure ; but finding himself unable to regain the bank,
he flung the flowers to the feet of his mistress, and, as the
waters closed over him for ever, fondly murmured, *Vergiss-
mein-nicht,' "Forget me not."]
In notes of manly pathos sang
A gallant son of Fatherland,
As with his heart's fond love he strolFd
Upon a river's golden strand :
" When to the distant lands I go,
In freedom's cause to fire a shot,
Will thou sweet heart, love, still be mine ?
Vergiss-mein-nicht — Forget me not."
" By yonder darkening clouds, which hide
The distant spot where lurks the moon ;
By thoughts of all the songs you sing —
Of each I now forget the tune ;
By all the promises you made, •
And all your vows upon this spot ;
VERGISS-MEIN-NICHT. 129
In life, or death, we're one^ I swear.
Vergiss-mein-nicht — Forget me not."
•* O, dat ish good," thus sang the youth,
" And sprachen like mine own true vrow ;
The signal now mine comrades shoot,
So, dearest, I must make mine bow.
Those pearl-drops from thine eyelids wipe,
Thus from thy face the tears I blot :
Cheer up, mine lovely ! One last kiss —
Vergiss-mein-nicht — Forget me not."
Whilst thus their parting was delayed,
The mjiiden's tearful eye espied
A modest flower of rarest worth
As it was floating down the tide.
" O, What a beauty ! Look ! Pray dorUt !
You swim no better than a shot."
But in he juiip'd, and gobbled out,
" Vergiss-mein-nicht — Forget me not T
" Why from the bottom don't you come ?
Why do you stay so long below ?*'
But a gurgle, gurgle, gurgle,
Only mock'd the maiden's woe.
Wringing then her hands in sorrow
For her lover's cruel lot,
In she tumbled — p'rhaps she found him ;
O'er them floats " Forget me not."
IHO i^EWIS'S READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR.
BY W. M. THACKERAY.
(Read by Mr. Vandenhoff.)
In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world and its toils and its cares,
I Ve a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, ,
But the fire there is bright, and the air rather pure ;
And the view I behold on a sunshiny day •
Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way.
This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks
With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books,
And foolish old odds and foolish old ends.
Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from
friendi
Old armour, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd),
Old rickety tables and chairs broken-back'd ;
A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see ;
What matter ? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.
THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR. 131
No better divan need the Sultan require,
Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire ;
And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get
From the uckety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.
That praying rug came from a Turcoman's camp ;
By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ;
A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn ;
'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.
Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the
chimes,
Here we talk of old becks, and old friends, and old
times ;
As we sit in a fog made of rich l^takie,
This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.
But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest,
There' s one that I love and I cherish the best ;
For the finest of couches that' s padded with hair
I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair.
' Tis a bandy-legg 'd, high-shoulder *d, worm-eaten
seat,
With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet ;
But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,
I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottom' d chair.
132 lewis's readings and recitations.
If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,
A thrill must have pass' d through your wither' d old
arms !
I look' d, and I long* d, and I wish' d in despair —
I wish* d myself turn' d to a cane-bottom' d chair.
It was but a moment she sat in this place,
She' d a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face !
A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,
And she sat there, and bloom' d in my cane-bottom' d
chair.
And so I have valued my chair ev«r since,
Like the shrine of a saint, or the throng of a prince :
Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare,
The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom' d chair.
When the candles bum low, and the company's gone,
In the silence of night, as I sit here alone —
I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair —
My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom' d chair.
She comes from the past and revisits my room ;
She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom ;
So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,
And yoader she sits in ray cane-bottom' d chair.
THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN. 133
THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN.
CHARLES MACKAY,
" Who bids for the little children,
Body, and soul, and brain ?
Who bids for the little children,
Young, and without a stain ?
Will no one bid ? " said England,
" For their souls, so pure and white ?
And fit for all good and evil,
The world on their page may write ? *'
" We bid," said Pest and Famine,
" We bid for life and limb ;
Fevvjr, and pain, and squalor.
Their bright young eyes shall dim.
When the children grow too many,
We' 11 nurse them as our own,
And hide them in secret places,
Where none may hear their moan.**
" I bid," said Beggary, hou^lin^,
•' I bid for them one and all !
I' 11 teach them a thousand lessons.
To lie, to skulk, to crawl !
34 lewis's readings and recitations.
They shall sleep ki my lair like maggots,
They shall rot in the fair sunshine,
And if they serve my purpose,
I hope they 11 answer thineP
" And I '11 bid higher and higher,*
Said Crime, with a wolfish grin,
" For I love to lead the children
Through the pleasant paths of sin.
They shall swarm in the streets to pilfer.
They shall plague the broad highway,
Till they grow too old for pity.
And ripe for the law to slay.
" Prison, and hulk, and gallons,
Are many in the land ;
* Twere folly not to use them,
So proudly as they stand*
Give me the little children,
I '11 take them as they 're born.
And leed their evil passions
With misery and scorn.
" Give me the little children.
Ye rich, ye good, ye wise,
And let the busy world spin round,
While ye shut your idle eyes ;
And your judges shall have work,
And your lawyers wag the tongue^
And the jailers and policemen
Shall be fathers to the young."
CREEDS OF THE BELLS 135
" Oh ! shame," said true Religion,
" Oh ! shame that this should be !
I '11 take the little children —
Oh ! give them all to me !
I '11 raise them up in kindness,
From the mire in which they Ve trod ;
I f\ teach them words of blessing,
And lead them up to God."
CREEDS OF THE BELLS.
G. W. BEAGAY.
(Read by Mrs. Scott Siddons.)
. How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells ! ^
Each one its creed in music tells.
In tones that float upon the air,
As soft as song, and pure as prayer ;
And I will put in simple rhyme
The language of the golden chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells — sweet bells.
(i) "In deeds of love excel — excel,"
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell ;
(1) Thit line ie to be Rung^ like a chime of belln ; the second line in only
read, but the succeeding: five lines to " excfl" should ajfait> ^>€
chimed, varyinjf the chimes on each two lines. If the reft<*er
can not sing the chimes, the lines ma>' be read in a pure high
tlJlM.
136 lewis's readings and recitations.
** This is the church not built on sands,
Emblem of one not built with hands ;
Its forms and sacred rites revere,
Come worship here — come worship here ;
In rituals and faith excel,"
Chimed out the Episcopalian bell.
(i) "Oh, heed the ancient landmarks well^^
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell ;
" No progress made by mortal man
Can change the just, eternal plan.
Do not invoke the avenging rod ;
Come here, and learn the way to God.
Say to the world fareivell ! farewell /"
Pealed out the Presbyterian bell.
(2) "Oh swell, ye cleansing waters, swell^*
In mellow tones rang out a bell ;
"Though faith alone in Christ can save\
Man must be plunged beneath the ivave^
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the sacred Scripture saith.
(3) Oh swelly ye rising waters, swell '^
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist belL
(4) " Not faith alone, but works as well,
Must test the soul,'' said a soft bell ;
(1) Read in imitatiou uf Uie tollinflr of % bell deep and slow. Dwell on
the Italic words like a pealing bell.
m Road lik V No. 2, but higher pitch.
Rise higher on this line and chant " swell."
(4) Some as No. S, but softer tone. Hwell with jfreaiw power on " Do
well. ' bx, , giving a chanting tone to " swell."
CREEDS OF THE BELLS. 137
" Come here, and cast aside your load,
And work your way along the road,
With faith in God, and faith in man,
And hope in Christ, where hope began :
Do well — do well — do well — do welL*'
Pealed forth the Unitarian belL
(i) "In after life there is no hell,'*
In rapture rang a cheerful bell ;
Look up to Heaven this holy day.
Where angels wait to lead the way.
There are no fires, no fiends to blight
The future life : be just and right.
* No hell — no hell — ^no hell — no hell,"
Rang out the Universalists belL
(2) " To all the truth we tell— we tell,'*
Shouted, in ecstasies, a bell ;
" Come, all ye weary wanders, see !
Our Lord has made salvation free.
Repent ! Believe ! have faith ! and then
Be saved, and praise the Lord. Amen.
Salvation's free we tell — we tell,"
Shouted the Methodistic bell.
(1) Loud and clear toll of a bell, chanting *' No hell/* Ju;., in a high,
triumphant tone.
(2) Chant loud and clear. Ribo higher on " Come all," &c., Chant loud
and rapid *' R^tpeut," 3ic. The laat line is to bt read.
f
»
138 lewis's readings and recitations.
AN OLD BACHELOR.
BY HOOD.
What a pitiful thing an old bachelor is,
With his cheerless house and his rueful phiz ;
On a bitter cold night when the fierce winds blow,
And when all the earth is covered with snow.
When his fire is out, and in shivering dread,
He slips 'neath the sheets of his lonely bed ;
How he draws up his toes.
All encased in yarn hose,
May not chance to get froze !
Then he puffs and he blows, and he says that he knows,
No mortal on earth ever suffered such woes.
And with Ah's and with Oh's
With his limbs to dispose,
So that neither his toes nor his nose may be froze,
To his slumber's in silence the bachelor goes.
In the morn when the cock crows, and the sun is just
rose.
From beneath the bedclothes
Pops the bachelor's nose.
And, as you may suppose, when he hears how the wind
blows^
Sees the windows all froze,
Why back 'neath the clothes pops the poor fellow's
nose ;
For full well he knows, if from that bed he rose
To put on his clothes, that he 'd surely be froze.
THE TREASURE OF HOPE. 139
THE TREASURE OF HOPE.
BY LEWIS MORRIS.
O fair bird, singing in the woods,
To the rising and the setting sun,
Does ever any throb of pain
Thrill through thee ere thy song be done :
Because the summer fleets so fast ;
Because the autumn fades so soon ;
Because the deadly winter treads
So closely on the steps of June ?
O sweet maid, opening like a rose
In Love's mysterious, honeyed air,
Dost think sometimes the day will come
When thou shalt be no longer fair :
When Love will leave thee and pass on
To younger and to brighter eyes ;
And thou shalt live unloved, alone,
A dull life, only dowered with sighs ?
O brave youth, panting for the fight,
To conquer \\Tong and win thee fame.
Dost see thyself grown old and spent.
And thine a still unhonoured name :
140 lewis's readings and recitations.
When all thy hopes have come to naught,
And all thy fair schemes droop and pine ;
And Wrong still lifts her hydra heads
To fall to stronger arms than thine ?
Nay ; song and love and lofty aims
May never be where faith is not ;
Strong souls within the present live;
The future veiled, — the past forgot
Grasping what is, with hands of steel.
They bend what shall be, to their will ;
And blind alike to doubt and dread,
The End, for which they are, fulfil.
DEAR LITTLE HAND.
BY LEWIS MORRIS.
Dear little hand that clasps my own.
Embrowned with toil and seamed with strife ]
Pink little fingers not yet grown
To the poor strength of after-life, —
Dear little hand 1
Dear little eyes which smile" on mine
With the first peep cf morning light ;
Now April-wet with tears, or fine
With dews of pity, or laughing bright.
Dear little eyes 1
FINE BROWN STOUT, 24
Dear little voice, whose broken speech
All eloquent utterance can transcend
Sweet childish wisdom strong to reach
A holier deep than love or friend :
Dear little voice I
Dear little life ! my care to keep
From every spot and stain of sin :
Sweet soul foredoomed, for joy or pain,
To struggle and— which ? to fall or win ?
Dread mystical life 1
FINE BROWN STOUT.
A Brewer in a country town
Had got a monstrous reputation ;
No other beer but his went down.
The hosts of the surrounding station
Carved its great name upon their mugs,
And painted it on every shutter;
And tho' some envious folks would utter
Hints that its flavour came from drugs,
Others maintained 'twas no such matter, '
But owing to his monstrous vat.
At least as corpulent as that
At Heidelberg— and some said fatter.
142 lewis's readings and recitations.
His foreman was a lusty black,
An honest fellow,
But one who had an ugly knack
Of tasting samples as he brewe'.
Till he was stupified and mellow.
One-day, in his top-heavy mood,
Having to cross the vat aforesaid
(Just then with boiling beer supplied),
Overcome with giddin<^ss and qualms, he
Reeled, fell in, and nothing more said,
But in his favourite liquor died,
Like Clarence in his butt of Malmsey.
In all directions round about
I The negro absentee was sought,
But as no human noddle thought
That our fat black was now brown stout,
They settled that the rogue had left
The place for debt, or crime, or theft,
Meanwhile, the beer was, day by day.
Drawn into casks and sent away,
Until the lees flowed thick and thicker ;
When lo ! outstretched upon the ground,
Once more their missing friend they found.
As they had often done in liquor.
Next morning a publican, whose tap
Had helped to drain the vat so dry,
Not having heard of the mishap,
Came to demand a fresh supply —
MADNESS. 143
Protesting loudly that the last
All previous specimens surpassed,
Possessing a much richer gusto
Than formerly it ever used to,
And begging as a special favour
Some more of the exact same flavour.
" Zounds ! " said the brewer, " that 's a task
More difficult to grant than ask ;
Most gladly would I give the smack
Of the last beer to the ensuing,
But where am I to find a black
And boil him down at every brewing ? *
MADNESS.
A wanderer stood by a rapid stream
Whon a scroll unto him was brought •
'Twas a father's message of love, addrest
To one whose childhood his care had blest,
'Twas an offer of pardon, peace and rest ;—
But the prodigal whom he sought,
Only flung the scroll from the rivers brink,
And watched it slowly and slowly sink,
Oh ! madman, to break love's golden link I
On a hill stood a poor wayfaring man.
When a parchment to him was given
By which he was proved the rightful heir
To all the broad regions before him there.
144 lewis's readings and recitations.
The wooded valleys, and meadows fair,
Bounded but by the arch of heaven.
But with reckless hand he the parchment tore,
And the breezes afar the fragments bore ;
Oh ! madman, that wealth can be thine no more !
A doomed man crouched o'er his prison fire,
His heart for his fate he steeled ;
Already he heard the castle bell
Boom drearily forth his dying knell,
When his eye on a royal writing fell ;
'Twas his pardon, signed ai\^ sealed !
But he flung the pardon into the flame,
And so went forth to a death of shame !
Oh ! madman, well hast thou earned the name 1
Such madmen amongst us live and dwell,
Such madmen amongst us die ;
A father's message is heard — forgot;
A treasure offered — accepted not ;
Men wildly prefer the demon's lot,
To freedom and life on high !
A king's free pardon — a parent's stay,
Infinite wealth may be theirs to-day,
Oh I madmen, to cast them all away !
THE SPANISH JEW'S TALE. l45
THE SPANISH JEW^S TALE.
the legend of rabbi ben levl
By Longfellow.
Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read
A volume of the Law, in which it said,
" No man shall look upon my face and live/'
And as he read, he prayed that God would give
His faithful servant grace with mortal eye
To look upon His face and yet not die.
Then fell a sudden shadow on the page,
And, lifting up his eyes, grown dim with age,
He saw the Angel of Death before him stand,
Holding a naked sword in his right hand. •
Rabbi Ben Levi was a righteous man, -
Yet through his veins a chill of terror ran.
With trembling voice he said, "What wilt thou here ? "
The Angel answered, " Lo ! the time draws near
When thou must die ; yet first, by God's decree,
Whatever thou sskest shall be granted thee."
Replied the Rabbi, " Let these living eyes
First look upon my place in Paradise."
Then said the Angel, *' Come with me and look."
Rabbi Ben Levi closed the sacred book.
And rising, and uplifting his grey head,
146 lewis's readings and recitations.
" Give me thy sword," he to the Angel said.
" Lest thou should'st fall upon me by the way."
The Angel smiled and hastened to obey,
Then led him forth to the Celestial Town,
And set him on the wall, whence, gazing down,
Rabbi Ben Levi, with his living eyes,
Might look upon his place in Paradise.
Then straight into the city of the Lord
The Rabbi leaped with the Death-Angel's sword,
And through the streets there swept a sudden breath
Of something there unknown, which men call death.
Meanwhile the Angel stayed witliout, and cried,
" Come back ! '' To which the Rabbi's voice replied,
" No ! in the name of God, whom I adore,
I swear that hence I will depart no more ! "
Then all the Angels cried, " O Holy One,
See what the son of Levi here has done !
The kingdom of Heaven he takes by violence,
And in Thy name refuses to go hence ! "
The Lord replied, •' My Angels, be not wroth ;
Did e'er the son of Levi break his oath ?
Let him remain ; for he with mortal eye
Phall look upon my face and yet not die.'*
Beyond the outer wall the Angel of Death
Heard the great voice' and said, with panting breath,
" Give back the sword, and let me go my way."
Whereat the Rabbi paused, and answered, ** Nay t
Anguish enough already has it caused
CHILDHOOD. 147
Among the sons of men." And while he paused
He heard the awful mindate of the Lord
Resounding through the air, " Give back the sword !"
The Rabbi bowed h^-: head in silent prayer;
Then said he to the dreadful Angel, '* Swear,
No human eye shall look ou it again ;
But when thou takest away the souls of men,
Thyself unseen, and w:.th ?n unseen sword,
Thou will perform the biddmg of the Lord."
The Angel took the sword again, and swore,
And walks on earth unseen for evermore.
^ CHILDHOOD.
BY LONGFELLOW.
There was a time when I was very small,
When my whole frame was but an e]l in height,
Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do fall,
And therefore I recall it with delight
I sported in my tender mother's arms,
And rode ahorseback on best fall) i-'s knee ;
Alike were sorrows, passions, and ala ms,
And gold, and Greek, and love, unknot n to me.
TTien seemed to me this world far less in size,
Likewise it seemed to me less wicked ft r ;
J .ike points in heaven, I saw the stars ar-jje,
And longed for wings that I might catch n star.
148 lewis's readings and recitations.
I saw the moon behind the island fade,
And thought, " O, were I on that island there,
I could find out of what the rnoon is made,
Find out how large it is, how round, how fair 1 "
Wondering, I saw God's sun through western skies,
Sink in the ocean's golden lap at night,
And yet upon the morrow early rise,
And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light ;
And thought of God, the giacious Heavenly Father,
Who made me, and that lovely sun on high.
And all those pearls of heaven thick-strung together.
Dropped, clustering, from his hand o'er all the sky.
With childish reverence, my young lips did say ^
The prayer my pious mother taught to me :
** O GMitle God ! O, let me strive alway
Still to be wise, and good, and follow thee ! "
So prayed I for my father and my mothi
And for my sister, and for all the town ;
The king I knew not, and the beggar-brother,
W^o, bent with age, went, sighing, up and down.
They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished,
All the gladness, all the peace I knew !
Now have I but their memory, fondly cherished ; —
God ! may I never, never, lose that too 1
THE HAPPIEST LAND. I49
THE HAPPIEST LAND.
FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD.
FROM THE GERMAN.
LONGFELLOW.
There sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.
The landlord's daughter filled their cups,
Around the rustic board ;
Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.
But, when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand,
And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
" Long live the Swabian land I
" The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare ;
With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there."
*^ Ha ! " cried a Saxon, laughing, —
And dashed his beard with wine ;
150 lewis's readings and recitations.
" I had rather live in Lapland,
Than that Swabian land of thine !
" The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land !
There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand ! "
" Hold your tongue ! both Swabian and Saxon ! "
A bold Bohemian cries ;
" If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
" There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn.''
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, " Ye may no more contend, —
There lies the happiest land 1"
THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. 151
THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
BY ROBERT LOWELL.
Oh that last day in Liicknow fort 1
We knew that it was the last,
That the enemy's mines had crept surely in,
And the end was coming fast.
To yield to the foe meant worse than death,
And the men and we all worked en ;
It was one day more of smoke and roar,
And then it would all be done.
There was one of us, a corporal's wife,
A fair, young, gentle thing,
Wasted with fever in the siege,
And her mind was wandering.
She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid.
And I took her head on my knee ;
" When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she
said,
" Oh ! please then waken me.*^
She slept like a child on her father's floor.
In the flecking of woodbine shade,
When the house dog sprawls by the half-open door,
And the mother's wheel is stayed.
1515 LEWIS'S READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
It was smoke, and roar, and powder stench,
And hopeless waiting for death ;
But the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child,
Seemed scarce to draw her breath
I sank to sleep, and I had a dream
Of an English village lane
And wall and garden — till a sudden scream
Brought me back to the rear again.
There Jessie Brown stood listening.
And then a broad gladness broke
All over her face, and she took my hand,
And drew me near and spoke :
" The Highlanders I Oh ! dinna ye hear
The slogan far awa ?
The McGregor 's ? Ah ! I ken it weel ;
It is the grandest of them a'.
" God bleas the bonny Highlanders ;
We're saved ! we're saved ! '' she cried ;
And fell on her knees, and thanks to God
Poured forth, like a full-flood tide.
Along the battery line her cry
Had fallen among the men ;
And they started ; for they were to dies
Was life so near them then ?
THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. 153
They listened for life, and the rattling fire
Far off, and the far off roar
Were all,— and the colonel shook his head,
And Liey turned to their guns once more.
Then Jessie said, " The slogan's dune,
But can ye no hear them noo ?
The Campbells are comin ! It's nae a dream,
Our succors hae broken through !"
We heard the roar and the rattle afar,
But the pipers we could not hear ;
So the men plied their work of hopeless war,
And knew that the end was near.
It was not long ere it must be heard,
A shrilling, ceaseless sound ;
It was no noise of the strife afar.
Or the sappers under ground.
It was the pipe of the Highlanders,
And now they played " Auld Lang Syne,''
It came to our men like the voice of God ;
And they shouted along the line.
And they wept and shook each others' hands,
And the women sobbed in a crowd ;
And every one knelt down where we stood,
And we all thanked God aloud.
K
154 lewis's readings and RECITxvTIONS.
That happy day, when we welcomed them in,
Our men put Jessie first ;
And the General took her hand ; and cheers
From the men like a volley burst
And the piper a' ribbons and tartan streamed,
Marching round and round our line ;
And our joyful cheers were broken with teajs,
And the pipers played " Auld Lang Syne'*
WHITER THAN SNOW,
BY WATSON.
Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below,
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet.
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skimming along ;
Beautiful snow ! it can do no wrong,
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak,
Beautiful snow from the heavens above
Pure as an angel, gentle as love I
WHITER THAN SNOW. 15 5
Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow !
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go ;
Whirling about in its maddening fun.
It plays in its glee with every one.
Chasing,
Laughing,
Hurrying by ;
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye ;
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around.
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow.
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow 1
How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song !
How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye
Ringing,
Swinging,
Dashing they go
Over the crest of the beautiful snow ;
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by,
To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feel,
Till it blends with the horrible filth in the street.
Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow ;
156 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
Once I was loved for my innocent grace —
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face
Father,
Mother,
Sisters all,
God, and myself, I have lost by my fall ;
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by
Will make a wide sweep, lest I wander too nigh.
For all that is on or about me, I know
There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful sno\
How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go !
How strange it would be, when the night comes again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain !
Fainting,
Freezing,
Dying alone.
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan
To be heard in the crash of the crazy town,
Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down ;
To lie and to die in my terrible woe.
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.
Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not ! Christ stoopeth low
To rescue the soul that is lost in its sin,
And raise it to life and enjoyment again.
HO-HO OF THE GOLDEN BELT. 157
Groaning,
Bleeding,
Dying for thee,
The Crucified hung on the accursed tree !
His accents of mercy fall soft on thine ear.
" Is there mercy for me ? Will he heed my weak
prayer ?
" O God ! in the stream that for sinners did flow,
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow 1"
HO-HO OF THE GOLDEN BELT.
One of the ** Nine Stories of China."
BY JOHN G. SAKE.
A beautiful maiden was little Min-Ne,
Eldest daughter of wise Wang-Ke ;
Her skin had the colour of saffron-tea,
And her nose was flat as flat could be*;
And never were seen such beautiful eyes.
Two almond-kernels in shape and size,
Set in a couple of slanting gashes,
And not in the least disfigured by lashes ;
And then such feet ;
You 'd scarcely meet
In the longest walk through the grandest street
(And you might go seeking
From Nanking to Pekin^r)
A pair so remarkably small and near.
158 lewis's READINgS AND RECITATIONS.
«
Two little stumps
Mere pedal lumps,
That toddle along with the funniest thumps,
In China, you know, are reckon 'd trumps.
It seems but a trifle to make such a boast of it ;
But how they will dress it,
And bandage and press it,
By making the least, to make the most of it I
As you may suppose,
^ She had plenty of beaux
Bowing around her beautiful toes,
Praising her feet, and eyes, and nose
In rapturous verse and elegant prose !
She had lots of lovers, old and young ;
There was lofty Long, and babbling Lung,
Opulent Tin, and eloquent Tung,
Musical Sing, and, the rest among,
Great Hang-yu and Yu-be-Hung.
But though they smiled, and smirk 'd, and bow 'd,
None could please her of all the crowd ;
Lung and Tung she thought too loud ;
Opulent Tin was much too proud ;
Lofty Long was quite too tall ;
Musical Sing sung very small ;
And, most remarkable freak of all.
Of great Hung-yu the lady made game,
And Yu'be-Hung she mock 'd the same.
By echoing back his ugly name !
But the hardest heart' is doom 'd to mv It ;
Love is a passion that will be foil ;
HO-HO OF THE GOLDEN BELT. 159
And just when scandal was making free
To hint '' What a pretty old maid she d be,"
Little Min-ne,
Who but she ?
Married Ho-Ho of the Golden Rclt
A man, I must own, of bad reputation,
And low in purse tliough high in station—
A sort of Imperial poor relation,
Who rank 'd as the Emperor's second cousin
Multiplied by a hundred dozen ;
And, to mark the lov%i the Emperor felt,
Had a pension clear
Of three pounds a year,
And the honour of wearing a Golden Belt !
And gallant Ho-Ho
Could really show
A handsome face, as faces go
In this Flowery Land, where, you must know,
The finest flowers of beauty grow,
He 'd the very widest kind of jaws,
And his nails were like an eagle's claws,
And— though it may seem a wondrous tale—
(Truth is mighty and will prevail !)
He 'd a ^ueue as long as the deepest cause
Under the Emperor's chancery laws !
Yet how he managed to win Min-Ne
The men declared they couldn 't see :
But all the ladies, over their tea,
In this one point were known to agree ;
160 lewis's readings and recitations.
Four gifts were sent to aid his plea ;
A smoking-pipe with a golden clog,
A box of tea and a poodle dog ;
And a painted heart that was all a-flame,
And bore, in blood, the lover's name.
Ah ! how could presents pretty as these
A delicate lady fail to please ?
She smoked the pipe with the golden clog,
And drank the tea, and ate the dog,
And kept the heart — and that 's the way
The match was made, the gossips say.
I can 't describe the wedding-day,
Which fell in the lovely month of May ;
Nor stop to tell of the honey-moon.
And how it vanish 'd all too soon ;
Alas ! that I the truth must speak.
And say that in the fourteenth week,
Soon as the wedding guests were gone,
And their wedding suits began to dorl,
Min-Ne was weeping and " taking on,**
For he had been trying " to take her off*
m
Six wives before he had sent to heaven,
And being partial to number " seven,"
He wish 'd to add his latest pet
Just, perhaps to make up the set I
Mayhap the rascal found a cause
Of discontent in a certain clause
in the Emperor's very liberal laws,
HO-HO OF THE GOLDEN BELT. 161
Which gives, when a Golden Belt is wed, ^
Six hundred pounds to furnish the bed ;
And if in his turn he marry a score,
With every wife six hundred more.
First, he tried to murder Min-Ne
With a special cup of poison 'd tea,
But the lady smelling a mortal foe,
Cried, " Ho-Ho !
I 'm very fond ot mild Souchong,
But you, my love, you make it too strong."
At last Ho-Ho, the treacherous man.
Contrived the most consummate plan
Invented since the world began ;
He went and got him a savage dog,
Who 'd eat a woman as soon as a frog ;
Kept him a day without any prog.
Then shut him up in an iron bin,
Slipp 'd the bol" and lock 'd him in ;
i V^ ing the key
Tt ]K*v/- Min-Ne,
Said, " Love, there 's something you mustn 7 see
In the chest beneatli the orange tree.'*
• « « • •
Poor mangled Min-Ne ! with her latest breath
She told her father the cause of her death ;
And so it reach *d the Emperor's ear,
And his highness said, "It is very char
162 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
Ho-Ho has committed a murder here ! "
And he doom 'd Ho Ho to end his life
By the terrible dog that kill 'd his wife ;
But in mercy (let his praise be sung !)
His thirteen brothers were merely hung,
And his slaves bamboo 'd in the mildest way
For a calendar month three times a day.
And that 's the way that justice dealt
With wicked Ho-Ho of the Golden Belt i
IMMORTALITY.
BY MATTHEW ARNOLD.
Foird by our fellow men, depressed, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
And Patience^ in another life, we say,
The luorld shall he thrust doivn, and we up-borne !
And will not then the immortal armies scorn
The world's poor routed leavings ; or will they,
Who fail'd under th. heat of this life's day,
Support the fervours of the heaven iy morn ?
No, no ! the energy of life may be
Kept on after the grave, but not begun ;
And he who flagged not in the early strife,
From strength to strength advancing — only he.
His soul well knit, and all his battles won,
Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life.
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. i63
THE WIDOW MALONE,
OR THE
WAGER AND THE BALL.
BY CHARLES LEVER.
I was sitting at breakfast with Webber, a few morn-
ings after the mess dinner I have spoken of, when
Power came in hastily.
" Ha, the very man ! " said he. " I say, O'Malley,
here 's an invitation for you from Sir George to dine
on Friday. He desired me to say a thousand civil
things about his not having made you out, regrets that
he was not at home when you called yesterday, and
all that. By Jove, I know nothing like the favour you
stand in ; and as for Miss Dashwood, faith ! the fair
Lucy blushed, and tore her glove in most approved
style, when the old General began his laudation of
you.'*
" Pooh I nonsense," said I ; " that silly affair in the
west."
** Oh, very probably ; there 's reason the less for
your looking so excessively conscious. But I must
tell you, in all fairness, that you have no chance;
nothing short of a dragoon will go down."
" Be assured,'* said 1, somewhat nettled, " that my
pretensions do not aspire to the fair Miss Dashwood."
164 lewis's readings and recitations.
" Tant mieux et taut pis, mon cher, I wish to Heaven
mine did ; and, by St. Patrick, if I only played the
knight-errant half as gallantly as yourself, I would not
relinquish my claim to the Secretary at War himself."
" What brought the General down to your wild re-
gions ? " inquired Webber.
" To contest the county."
" A bright thought, truly. When a man is looking
for a seat, why not try a place where the law is oc-
casionally heard of?"
" I 'm sure I can give you no information on that
head ; nor have I ever heard how Sir George came to
learn that such a place as Gal way existed."
" I believe I can enlighten you," said Power.
" Lady Dashwood — rest her soul ! — came west of the
Shannon; she had a large property somewhere in Mayo,
and owned some hundred acres of swamp, with some
thousand starving tenantry thereupon, that people dig-
nified as an estate in Connaught. This first suggested
to him the notion of setting up for the county ; pro-
bably supposing that the people who never paid in
rent might like to do so in gratitude. How he was
undeceived, 0*Malley there can inform us. , Indeed,
I believe the worthy General, who was confoundedly
hard up when he married, expected to have got a
great fortune, and Uttle anticipated the three Chancery
suits he succeeded to, nor the rent-charges to his wife's
relatives that made up the bulk of the dower. The
only vestige of his unfortunate matrimonial connection
is a correspondence kept up by a maiden sister oi his
late wife's with him. She insists upon claiming the
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 165
ties of kindred upon about twenty family eras during
the year, when she regularly writes a most loving and
ill-spelled epistle, containing the latest information from
Mayo, with all particulars of the Macan family, of
which she is a worthy member. To her certain hints
of the acceptable nature of certain small remittances
the poor General is never inattentive ; but to the
pleasing prospect of a vis it in the flesh from Miss Judy
Macan the good man is dead. In fact, nothing short,
of being broke by a general court-marshal could at all
complete his sensations of horror at such a stroke of
fortune ; and I am not certain, if choice were alk ved
him, tha\: he would not prefer the latter."
" Then he has never yet seen her ? " said Webber.
" Never,'* replied Power ; " and he hopes to leave
Ireland without that blessing, the prospect of which,
however remote and unlikely, has, I know well, more
than once terrified him since his arrival."
" I say. Power, and has your worthy General sent
me a card for his ball ? "
" Not through me. Master Frank."
" Well, now, I call that precious shabby, do you
know. He asks O'Malley there from my chambers,
and never notices the other man, the superior in the
firm."
" But, Webber, Sir George must really be excused
in this matter. He has a daughter, a most attractive,
lovely daughter, just at that budding, unsuspecting
age when the heart is most susceptible of impressions ;
and where, let me ask, could she run such a risk as in
the chance of a casual meeting with the redoubted
166 lewis's readings and" recitations.
lady-killer, Master Frank Webber ? If he has not
sought you out, then here be his apology."
" A very strong case certainly," said Frank ; " but
still had he confided his critical position to my honour
and secrecy, he might have depended on me ; now,
having taken the other line "
" Well, what then ? "
" Why, he must abide the consequences. I '11 make
fierce love to Louisa ; isn 't that the name ? "
" Well, be it so — to Lucy — talk the little girl into
a most deplorable attachment for me."
" But how, may I ask, and when ? "
" 1 11 begin at the ball, man."
"Why, I thought you said you were not going?"
" There you mistake seriously, I merely said that
1 had not been invited."
"Then, of course," said I, "Webber, you can't
think of going, in any case, on my account."
** My vt.y dear friend, I go entirely upon my own.
I not only shall go, but I intend to liave most par-
ticular notice and attention paid me. I shall be prime
favourite with Sir George — kiss Lucy '
" Come, come ? this is too strong."
** What do you bet I don 't ? There, now, 1 11 give
you a pony a-piece, I do. Do you say done ? "
" That you kiss Miss Dashwood, and are not kicked
down-stairs for your pains ; are those the terms of
your wager ? " inquired Power.
** With all my heart. That I kiss Miss Dashwood,
and am not kicked down-stairs for my pains."
" Then I say, done."
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 167
<
" And with you too, O'Malley ? "
" I thank you/' said I, coldly ; " I 'm not disposed
to make such a return for Sir George Dashwood's
hospitaUty as to make an insult to his family the
subject of a bet."
"Why, man, what are you dreaming of? Miss
Dashwood will not refuse my chaste salute. Come,
Power, I will give you the other pony ? "
" Agreed," said he. " At the same time understand
me distinctly — that I hold myself perfectly eligible to
winning the wager by my own interference ; for, if you
do kiss her, by Jove ! I '11 perform the remainder of
the compact."
"So I understand the agreement," said Webber,
arranging his curls before the looking-glass. " Well,
now, who *s for Howth ? the drag will be here in half
an hour."
' " Not I," said Power ; " I must return to the
barracks."
" Nor I," said I, " for I shall take this opportunity
of leaving my card at Sir George Dashwood's."
" I have won my fifty, however," said Power, as
we walked out in the courts.
" I am not quite certain "
*• Why, the dickens ! he would not risk a broken
head for that sum ; besides, if he did, he loses the bet."
** He ^s a precious keen fellow."
" Let him be. In any case, I am determined to be
on my guard here."
So chatting, we strolled along to the Royal Hospital,
when, having dropped my pasteboard, I returned to
the college.
168 lewis's readings and recitations.
I have often dressed for a storming party with less
of trepidation than I felt on the evening of Sir George
Dashwood's ball. Since the eventful day of the elec-
tion I had never seen Miss Dashwood ; therefore, as
to what precise position I might occupy in her favour
was a matter of great doubt in my mind, and great im-
port to my happiness.
* * • • •
Our quadrille over, I was about to conduct her to
a seat, when Sir George came hurriedly up, his face
greatly flushed, and betraying every semblance of high
excitement.
" Dear papa, has anything occurred ? pray, what is
it?'* inquired she.
He smiled faintly, and replied, " Nothing very
serious, my dear, that I should alarm you in this way ;
but, certainly, a more disagreeable contretemps could
scarcely occur."
" Do tell me ; what can it be ? "
" Read this,*' said he, presenting a very dirty-looking
note, which bore the mark of a red wafer upon its
outside.
Miss Dashwood unfolded the billet, and, after a
moment's silence, instead of parti -'pating, as he ex-
pected, in her father's feeling of distress, burst out a
laughing, while she said, " V^'hy, really papa, I do not
see why this should put you out much after all. Aun t
may b somewhat of a character, as her note evinces,
but after a few days "
** Nonsense, child ; there 's nothing in this world
I have such a dread of as thit confounded woman —
and to come at such a time ! "
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 169
" When does she speak of paying her visit?"
" I knew you had not read the note," said Sir George
hastily ; " she 's coming here to-night — is on her way
this instant, perhaps. What is to be done ? If she
forces her way in here I shall go deranged outright.
O'Malley, my boy, read this note, and you will not
feel surprised if I appear in the humour you see me."
I took the .billet from the hands of Miss Dashwood,
and read as follows : —
" Dear Brother, — When this reaches your hand
I '11 not be far oflf. I 'm on my way up to town, to be
under Dr. Dease for the ould complaint. Cowley
mistakes my case entirely ; he says it 's nothing but
religion and wind. Father Magrath, who understands
a good deal about females, thinks otherwise — but God
knows who 's right. Expect me to tea, and, with love
to Lucy, believe me yours, in haste.
"Judith Macan.
" Let the sheets be well aired in my room ; and if
you have a spare bed, perhaps we could prevail upon
Father Magrath to stop too,"
From the account Power had given me in the
morning, I had no difficulty in guessing that the
writer was the maiden sister of the late Lady Dash-
wood, for whose relationship Sir George had ever
testified the greatest dread, even at the distance of
two hundred miles, and for whom in any nearer inti-
macy he was in no wise prepared.
" I say, Lucy," said he, " there 's only one thing to
to be done ; if this honid woman does arrive, let her
170 LEWISES READINGS AND RECITATIONS.
be shown to her room, and for the few days of her stay
in town, we '11 neither see nor be seen by any one/*
Without waiting for a reply, Sir George was turning
away to give the necessary instructions, when the door '
of the drawing-room was flung open, and the servant
announced in his loudest voice, " Miss Macan."
* • » « *
No sooner had the servant pronounced the magical
name of Miss Macan than all the company present
seemed to stand still. The spell exercised over the
luckless General seemed to have extended to his
company, for it was with difficulty that any one could
continue his train of conversation, while every eye
was directed towards the door. About two steps in
advance of the servant, who still stood door in hand,
was a tall, elderly lady, dressed in an antique brocade
silk, with enormous flowers embroidered upon it. Her
hair was powdered and turned back, in the fashion of
fifty years before ; while her high-pointed and heeled
shoes completed a costume that had not been seen
for nearly a century. Her short, skinny arms were
bare, and partly covered by a falling flower of old
point lace, while on her hands she wore black silk
mittens ; a pair of green spectacles scarcely dimmed
the lustre of a most piercing pair of eyes, to whose
effect a very palpable touch of rouge on the cheeks^
certainly added brilliancy. There stood this most
singular apparition, holding before her a fan about the
size of a modern tea-tray, while at each repetition of
her name by the servant she curtseyed deeply, bestow-
ing the while upon the gay crowd before her a very
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 171
curious look of maidenly modesty at her solitary and
unprotected position.
As no one had ever heard of the fair Judith save
one or two of Sir George's most intimate friends, the
greater part of the company were disposed to regard
Miss Macan as some one who had mistaken the
character of the invitation, and had come in a fancy
dress. But this delusion was but momentary, as Sir
George, armed with the courage of despair, forced his
way through the crowd, and taking her hand affection-
ately, bid her welcome to Dublin. The fair Judy,
at this, threw her arms about his neck, and saluted
him with a hearty smack, that was heard all over the
room.
" Where 's Lucy, brother ? let me embrace my little
darling," said the lady in an accent that told more of
Miss Macan than a three-volume biography could
have done. " There she is, I 'm sure ; kiss me, my
honey."
This office Miss Dashwood performed with an
effort at courtesy really Jadmirable ; while, taking her
aunt's arm she led her to a sofa.
It needed all the poor General's tact to get over the
sensation of this most mal d propos addition to his
party, but, by degrees, the various groups renewed
their occupations, although many a smile, and more
than one sarcastic glance at the sofa, betrayed that the
maiden aunt had not escaped criticism.
Power, whose propensity for fun very considerably
outstripped his sense of decorum to his commanding
officer, had already made his way to Miss Dashwood,
172 lewis's readings and recitations.
and succeeded in obtaining a formal introduction to
Miss Macan.
" I hope you will do me the favour to dance next
set with me, Miss Macan ? "
" Really Captain, it 's very polite of you, but you
must excuse me. I was never anything great in
quadrilles, but if a reel or a jig "
" Oh, dear aunt, don 't think of it, I beg of you ! *'
" Or even Sir Roger de Coverley,'' resumed Miss
Macan.
" I assure you, quite equally impossible."
" Then I 'm certain you waltz," said Power.
" What do you take me for, young man ? I wish
Father Magrath heard you ask me that question, and
for all your laced jacket '*
" Dearest aunt. Captain Power didn 't mean to
offend you ; I 'm certain he "
" Well, why did he dare to — solf, sob — ^did he see
anything light about me, that he — sob, sob, sob — oh,
dear ! oh, dear ! is it for this that I came up from my
little peaceful place in the west? — sob, sob, sob — General,
George, dear ; Lucy, my love, I 'm taken bad. Oh,
dear ! oh, dear ! is there any whiskey negus ? "
Whatever sympathy Miss Macan's sufferings might
have excited in the crowd about her before, this last
question totally routed them, and a most hearty fit of
laughter broke forth from more than one of the by-
standers.
At length, however, she was comforted, and her
pacification completely effected by Sir George setting
her down to a whist-table.
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 1*73
# • » • •
Resolving to wish Sir George a very good night, I
sought him out for some minute^. At length I saw him
in a comer, conversing with the old nobleman to whom
he had presented me early in the evening.
" True, upon my honour, Sir George," said he ; "I
saw it myself, and she did it just as dexterously as the
oldest blackleg in Paris."
" Why, you don 't mean to say that she cheated ? "
" Yes, but I do though — turned the ace every time.
Lady Herbert said to me, * Very extraordinary it is —
four by honours again.' So I looked, and then I per-
ceived it — a very old trick it is; but she did it
beautifully. What 's her name ? "
" Some western name ; I forget it," said the poor
General, ready to die with shame.
" Clever old woman, very ! " said the old lord,
taking a pinch of snuff; " but revokes too often."
Supper was announced at this critical moment, and
before I had further thought of my determination to
escape, I felt myself hurried along in the crowd
towards the staircase. The party immediately in front
of me were Power and Miss Macan, who now appeared
reconciled, and certainly testified most openly their
mutual feelings of goodwill.
" I say, Charley," whispered Power, as I came
along, ** it is capital fun — never met anything equal to
her ; but the poor General will never live through it,
and I 'm certain of ten days' arrest for this night's pro-
ceeding."
" Any news of Webber ? " I inquired.
174 lewis's readings and recitations.
" Oh, yes, I fancy I can tell something of him ; for
I heard of some one presenting himself and being re-
fused the entree^ so that Master Frank has lost his
money. Sit near us, I pray you, at supper. We must
take care of the dear aunt for the niece's sake, eh ? "
• • • • •
I was deep in thought when a dialogue quite near
me aroused me from my reverie. I was not long in
detecting the speakers, who, with their backs turned
to us, were seated at the great table, discussing a very
liberal allowance of pigeon-pie, a fic.sk of champagne
standing between them.
" Don % now ! dont 't, I tell ye ; it 's little ye know
Galway, or ye wouldn't think to make up to me,
squeezing my foot."
" Upon my soul you 're an angel, a regular angel.
I never saw a woman suit my fancy before."
" Oh, behave now. Father Magrath says "
" Who 's he ? "
** The priest ; no less."
" Oh ! cor found him."
" Confound Father Magrath, young man ? **
" Well, then, Judy, don 't be angry ; I only meant
that a dragoon knows rather more of these matters
than a priest."
" Well, then, I 'm not so sure of that. But, anyhow,
I 'd have you to remember it ain 't a Widow Malone
you have beside you."
** Never heard of the lady," said Power.
" Sure, it 's a song — poor creature — it *s a song they
made about her in the North Cork, when they were
quartered down in our county."
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. x76
** I wish to heaven you 'd sing it.'*
*' What will you give me, then, if I do ? "
" Anything — everything — my heart — my life."
"I wouldn't give a trauneen for all of them.
Give me that old green ring on your finger then."
" It 's yours,*' said Power, placing it gracefully upon
Miss Macan's finger ; " and now for your promise.'*
" Maybe my brother might not like it."
"Ke'd be delighte'^/* f*^ Power ; " he dotes on
musi^ "
" Does he, now ? '*
" On my honour, he does.'*
'* Well, mind you get up a good chorus, for the song
has one, and here it is."
" Miss Macan's song ! " said Power, tapping the
table with his knife.
" Miss Macan's song ! " was re-echoed on all sides ;
and before the luckless General could interfere she
began.
•'THE WIDOW MALONE."
** Did ye hear of the Widow Malone,
Ohone !
Who lived in the lown of Athlone
Alone ?
Oh ! she melted the hearts
Of the swains in them parts,
So lovely the Widow Malone,
OhoDcl
So lovely the Widow Malone.
** Of lovers she had a full score,
Or more \
17S lewis's readings and recitations.
And fortunes they all had galore,
In store ;
From the minister down
To the clerk of the crown,
All were courting the Widow Malone,
Ohone !
All were courting the Widow Malone.
** But so modest was Mrs. Malone,
*Twas known
No one ever could see her alone,
Ohone !
Let them ogle and sigh,
They could ne 'er catch her eye.
So bashful the Widow Malone,
Ohone
So bashful the Widow Malone.
* Till one Mr. O'Brien from Clare,—
How quare
It 's little for blushing they care
Down there ; —
Put his arm round her waist.
Gave ten kisses at laste,
* Oh,' says he, *you 're my Molly Malone,
My own ; '
*0h,' says he, * you 're Tiy Molly Malone.*
And the widow they all thought so shy,
My eye I
Nc *er thought of a simper or sigh,
For why ?
But * Lucius,' says she,
* Since you 've now made so free,
You may marry your Mary Malone,
Ohone f
You may marry your Mary Malone. *
THE WAGER AND THE BALL. 177
** There *s a moral contained in my song,
Not wrong ;
And one comfort it 's not very long,
But strong :
If for widows you die,
♦ Lam to kisSf not to sigh^
For they 're all like sweet Mistress Malone,
Ohone !
Oh ! they *re very like Mistress Malone."
Never did song create such a sensation as Miss
Macan's ; and certaitily her desires as to the chorus
were followed to the letter, for '*The Widow Malone,
ohone ! " resounded from one end of the table to the
other, amid one universal shout of laughter. None
could resist the ludicrous effect of her melody ; and
even poor Sir George, sinking under the disgrace of
his relationship, which she had contrived to make
public by frequent allusions to her " dear brother the
General/' yielded at last, and joined in the mirth
around him.
" I insist upon a copy of * The Widow.' Miss
Macan," said Power.
" To be sure ; give me a call to-morrow — let me
see — ^about two. Father Magrath won 't be at home,"
said she, with a coquettish look.
" Where, pray, may I pay my respects ? "
** No 22, South Anne Street — very respectable
lodgings. I '11 write the address in your pocket-book."
Power produced a card and pencil, while Miss
Macan wrote a few lines, saying as she handed it —
** There, now, don 't read it here before the people,
they '11 think it mighty indelicate in me to make an
appointment."
178 lewis's readings and recitations.
Power pocketed the card, and the next minute Miss
Macan's carriage was announced.
Sir George Dashwood, who little flattered himself
that his fair guest had any intention of departure,
became now most considerately attentive — reminded
her of the necessity of muffling against the night air —
hoped she would escape cold — and wished her a most
cordial good night, with a promise of seeing her early
the following day.
Notwithstanding Power's ambition to engross the
attention of the lady, Sir George himselt saw her to
her carriage, and only returned to the room as a group
was collecting around the gallant Captain, to whom
he was relating some capital traits of his late conquest
— for such he dreamed she was.
** Doubt it who will," said he, *' she has invited me
lo call on her to-morrow — written her address on my
card — told me the hour she is certain of being alone.
See here ! " At these words, he pulled forth the card,
and handed it to Lechmere.
Scarcely were the eyes of the latter thrown upon the
writing, when he said, " So, this isn 't it Power ! "
** To be sure it is, man," said Power. " Anne
Street is rather seedy — but that 's the quarter."
" Why, confound it, man," said the other, ** there 's
not a word of that here."
" Read it out," said Power. " Proclaim aloud ray
victory."
Thus urged, Lechmere read : —
" Dear P., — Please pay to my credit — and soon
raark ye — the two ponies lost this evening. I have
MY HEROINE. 179
done myself the pleasure of enjoying your ball, kissed
the lady, quizzed the papa, and walked into the
cunning Fred Power. — Yours.
" Frank Webber.
" ' The Widow Malone, ohone !' is at your service."
Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet, his astonish
ment could not have equalled the result of this
revelation. He stamped, swore, raved, laughed, and
almost went deranged. The joke was soon spread
through the room, and from Sir George to poor Lucy,
now covered with blushes at her part in the trans-
action, all was laughter and astonishment.
MY HEROINE—A TRUE STORY-
BY THE AUTHOR OF "jOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."
I know a little maid — as sweet
As any seven years old child you'll meet
In mansion grand or village street.
However charmiHg they may be :
She '11 never know of this, in verse
When I her simple tale rehearse —
A cottage giri, made baby-nurse
Unto another baby.
180 lewis's readings and recitations.
Till then how constant she at school I
Her tiny hands of work how full 1
And never c?»reless, never dull,
As little scholars may be.
Her absence questioned, with cheek red
And gentle lifting of the head,
♦' Ma'am, I could not be spared." she said,
" I had to mind my baby."
Her baby, oft along the lane
She'd carry it with such sweet pain
On summer holidays — full fain
To let both work and play be.
But at the school hour told to start,
She'd turn with sad, divided heart
Twixt scholar's wish and mother's part,
" I cannot leave my baby !"
One day at school came rumours dire —
" Lizzie has fallen in the fire ?*'
And oflf in haste I went to inquire
With anxious fear o'erflowiog :
For yester afternoon aJ; prayer
My lit* Tzie's face did wear
Th' ow comes it, whence or where ?-
1 :en who are — going.
And I . AS if bound for flight
To saj . ^j/ayers in angels' sight,
Poor Li lay — so wan, so white,
So s; idle seeming :
MY HEROINE.
181
Her active hands now helpless bound,
Her wild eyes wandering vaguely round,
As up she started at each sound,
Or slept, and moaned in drearaing.
Her mother gave the piteous tale ;
How that child's courage did not fail,
" Or else poor baby " — She stopped, pale,
And shed tears without number ;
Then told how at the fireside warm,
Lizzie, with baby on her arm,
Slipped — threw him from her — safe from harm.
Then fell. — Here in her slumber
Lizzie shrieked, "Take him !"and uptossed
Her poor bunded hands, and seemed half lost ;
Until a smile her features crossed
As sweet as angels' may be
" Yes, Ma'am '* — she said, in feeble tones,
" I'm ill, I know " — she hushed a moan —
** But" — -here a look a queen might own —
**But, ma'am, I saved my baby T'
182 lewis's readings and recitations.
THE DAUGHTER.
The old man sits beside the lock,
Where all day drips the water ;
The old wife, in her faded frock,
Still knits and nods by the cottage-clock 3
But, ah, the little daughter !
I see no more her loving eyes,
I hear no more her low replies-
Alas, alas, the daughter !
At dawn the birds begin to sing,
And o'er and o'er the water
The swallow flits with winking wing ;
The old folks wake with the waking Spring
But, ah, the little daughter !
No more to list the cuckoo's call
She roams the woods of the Manor Hall-
Alas, alas, the daughter !
Midsummer brought the young Earl back.
The lord of wood and water
He met her in the greenwood track —
His eyes were wondrous bold and black —
Ah me, the little daughter !
He whispered, ** Trust me, O my own I"
She wept, *' I live for thee alone !"
Alas, alas, the daughter !
ONE BY ONE. 183
Slow moved the weary months to years,
All day dripped down the water ;
The father's heart was dull with fears,
The mother's eyes were dim with tears —
Ah me, the little daughter !
Who is it 'neath the city's glare,
Looks up with wild, bewildered stare ? —
Alas, alas, the daughter !
A night there came — a night of wroth — ^
The rain beat on the water.
The wind blew from the rushing North,
The cottage lights shone freely forth —
But, ah, the little daughter !
Low in the dripping lock she lies,
With tangled hair and altered eyes —
Alas, alas, the daughter !
ONE BY ONE.
BY ADELAIDE ANNE P!iOCTER.
One by one the sands are flowing,
One by one the moments fall ;
Some are coming, some are going ;
Do not strive to grasp them all.
One by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each.
Let no future dreams elate thee.
Learn thou first what these can teach.
184 lewis's readings and recitations.
One by one (bright gifts from heaven)
Joys are sent thee here below ;
Take them readily when given,
Ready, too, to let them go.
One by one thy grief shall meet thee,
Do not fear an arm^d band ;
One will fade as others greet thee,
Shadows passing through the land.
Do not look at life's long sorrow ;
See how small each moment's pain ;
God will help thee for to-morrow,
So each day begin again.
Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear ;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.
Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing houi's despcnd ;
V Nor, the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.
Hours are golden links, God's token.
Reaching heaven : but one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.
VIRGINIA. 185
VIRGINIA.— A LAY OF ANCIENT ROME.
BY MACAULAY.
Over the Alban mountains, the light of morning
broke ;
From all the roofs of the Seven Hills curled the
thin wreaths of smoke ;
The city gates were open ; the For'um, all alive
With buyers and with sellers, was hummv g like a
hive:
Blithely on brass and timber the craftsman's stroke
was ri'nging,
And blithely o'er her panniers the market-girl was
singling ;
(i) And blithely young Virginia came smiling from her
home —
(2) Ah ! woe for young Virginia, the sweetest maid in
Rome.
(3) With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel
on her arm,
Forth she went bounding to the school, nor dreamed
of shame or harm.
She crossed the Forum shining with the stalls in
alleys gay,
flj Higfh and cheerful tone.
f2) Deep and wailing tone.
(3) Hiifher tone, but soft and gentle cxprestion.
M
.86 lewis's readings and recitations.
And had just reached the very spot whereon I
stand this day,
When up the varlet Marcus came; not such as
when, erewhile.
He crouched behind his patroL s heek, with the
true client smi'le :
He came with lowering forehead, swollen features,
and clenched fist.
And strode across Virginia's path, and caught her
by the wrist :
Hard strove the frightened maiden, and screamed
with look aghast —
And at her scream from right to left the folk came
running fast \
And the strong smith Muraena gave Marcus such
a bloWy
The caitiff reeled three paces back, and let the
maiden go :
Yet glared he fiercely round him, and growled, in
harsh fell tone,
(4) " She's mine^ and I will have her : I seek but for
mine mvn.
She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away
and sold,
The year of the sore sick'ness, ere she was twelve
hours old.
I wait on Appius Claudius ; I waited on his sire:
Let him who works the client wrong, beware the
pairoris ireT
(III ffkroe, harth mmI de«|^ touit, Ai^x^ . ^iivwy.
VIRGINIA. 187
. — But ere the varlet Marcus again might seize the
maid,
Who clung tight to Muraena's skirt, and sobbed, and
shrieked for aid,
Forth through the throng of gazers the young Icilius
pressed,
And stamped his foot, and rent his gown, and smote
upon his breast,
And beckoned to the people, and, in bold voice
and clear,
Poured thick and fast the burning words which
tyrants quake to hear.
(5) " Now, by your children's cradles, now, by your
fathers' graves,
Be men to-day, Quirites, or be for ever slaves I
Shall the vile fox-earth awe the race | that stormed
the lion's den ?
Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to
the wicked Ten ?
Oh, for that ancient spirit \ which curbed the
Senates will I
Oh, for the tents \ which in old time — whitened the
Sacred Hill !
In those brave days, our fathers stood firmly | side
by side ;
They faced the Marcian fury, the) tamed the Fabian
pride :
(r>) Animated, high pitch, pure orotund touee. Ourefully obMrve the
pftueee nuurlMu by dftahee.
188 lewis's readings and recitations.
They drove the fiercest Quintius an outcast \ forth
from Rome ;
They sent the haughtiest Claudius | with shivered
fasces home.
— But what their care bequeathed us, our madness
flung away :
All the ripe fruit of three-score years | is blighted
in a day.
Exultf ye proud Patricians ! the hard-fought fight
is o'er :
We strove for honour — 'twas in vain : for freedom
— 'tis no more.
Our .ery hearts, that were so high, sink down
beneath your will :
(6) Rich^es, and lanMs, and po wer, and st'ate, ye have
them — keep them still !
Heap heavier still the fetters ; bar closer still the
grate ;
Patient as sh'eep | we yield us up unto your cruel
hate : —
(7) But, by the Shades beneath us, and by the Gods
above.
Add not unto your cruel hate \ your yet more cruel
lo've !
Have ye not graceful ladies, whose spotless lineage
springs
From Consuls f and high Pontiffs^ and ancient Alban
Kin^s^
ifiS Lower pitch, appeal insr tone*.
17) &iM in pitch aud excitoment
VIRGINIA. 189
Ladies, who deign not on our paths | to set their
tender feet —
Who from their cars look down with scorn \ upon
the wondering street —
Who, in Corinthian mirrors, their own proud smiles
behold,
And breathe of Capuan odours, and shine with
Spanish gold?
Then leave the poor Plebeian | his single tie to
life —
(8) The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister, and
of wife —
Spare us the inexpiable wrong, the unutterable
shame,
That turns the coward's heart to steel, the sluggard's
blood I to flame;
(9) Lest, when our latest hope is fled, ye taste of our
despair.
And learn, hy proof , in some wild hour, how much
the wretched dare T
Straightway Virginius led the maid ?. little space
aside.
To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up
with horn and hide ;
Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle
down —
p) similar to No. &
J9) Asiiume itsmr'»» of tim« and ftSiXM*, frowlny Into hijrh d^flAnee to
190 lewis's readings and recitations.
(lo) Virginias caught the whittle up, and hid it in his
gown ;
And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat
began to swell,
And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, "Fare-
well, sweet child, farewell ! (ii)
Oh ! liow I lov'ed my darling I Though stem I
sometimes be,
To thee^ thou know'st, I was not so. Who cotUd
be so to thee ?
And how my darling lovdd me ! How glad she
was to hear
My footstep on the threshold, when I came back
last year !
And how she danced with pleasure to see my
civic crown,
And took my sword, and hung it up, and brought
me forth my gown :
Now, all those things are over — yes, all thy pretty
w'ays —
Thy needrework, thy pra'ttle, thy snatches of old
la'ys ;
And none will grieve when I go forth, or smile
when I return,
Or watch beside the old man's bed, or weep upon
his urn.
—The time is come ! See^ how he points his eager
hand this way 1 (12)
(10) Action and quick del'very.
(11) Deei>, hUHky to»ie.«, full of ^^^remnr »ad fee!!n(r.
(12) Miitf whttti»er, raciii:ai .4ti^«.
VIRGINIA. 191
See, how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's
upon the prey.
(13) With all his wit he little deems, that, spumed>
betrayed, bereft,
Thy father hath, in his despair, one fearful refuge
reft.
He little deems, that in this hand | I clut'ch what
still can save
Thy gentle youth from tau'nts and bl'ows, the
portion of the sl'ave ;
Yea, and from nameless e'vii, that passeth taunH
and bl'ow —
Foul outrage^ which thou knowest not, which thou
shalt never kno V !
Then clasp me round the neck once more, and
give me one more \ kiss ;
(14) And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no
way — but — this !"
— With that he lifted high the steel, and smote
^ her in the side,
(15) And in her diood | she sank to earth, and with
one sob she died !
When Appius Claudius saw that deed, he s/iuii-
dered and sank down.
And hid his face, some little space, with the comer
of his gown,
Till, with white lips, and blood-shot eyes, Vir-
ginius tottered nigh.
fl3) Audible bet deep tone, fuil of «Vippre.-*ieil cnergj-.
(14) Voic« full of tremor. Pause at " wny," and utter *' Uil«** f/ltb icreat
force.
1ft) IVep, ox|>i csive of extreme horror.
192 lewis's readings and recitations.
And stood before the judgment-seat, and held
the knife on high :
(i6) "Oh ! dwellers in the nether glo'om, aven^gers of
the sl'ain,
By this dear blood ( I cry to you^ do right \
between us twain ;
And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me
and m'ine,
Deal thou by Appius Claudius, and all the Clau-
dian line !"
He writhed, and groaned a fearfiil groan, and
then with steadfast feet,
Strode right across the market-place into the
Sacred Street.
(17) Then up sprang Appius Claudius : " Stop him ;
alive or dead !
Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who
brings his head!"
He looked upon his clients — ^but none itvould
work his will ;
He looked upon his lictors — ^but they trembled
and stood still ;
(18) And, as Virginius through the press his way in
silence cleft,
Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and
left :
And he hath passed in safety unto his woful home.
And there ta'en horse to tell the Camp what deeds
are done in Rome.
I
0) High pitch, exfited and strongly asperated tones.
17) Lo \d and bold *x> "bead."
18) Middle pitch vlA full of dignity to the end.
HER LETTER. 193
HER LETTER.
BY BRET HARTE.
I 'm sitting alone by the fire,
Dressed just as I came from the dance,
In a robe even you would admire —
It cost a cool thousand in France ;
I 'm be-diamonded out of all reason,
My hair is done up in a cue ;
In short, sir, " the belle of the season "
Is wasting an h ur on you.
A dozen engagements I Ve broken ;
I left in the midst of a set ;
Likewise a proposal, half spoken,
That waits — on the stairs — for me yet.
They say he '11 be rich — when he grows up —
And then he adores me indeed.
And you, sir, are turning your nose up,
Three thousand miles off, as you read.
" And how do I like my position ? "
" And what do I think of New York ? "
" And now, in my higher ambition.
With whom do I waltz, flirt, or talk ? "
'* And isn 't it nice to have riches.
And diamonds and silks, and all that ? "
** And aren 't it a change to the ditches
And tunnels of Poverty Flat ? "
194 lewis's readings and recitations.
Well, yes — if you saw us out driving
Each day in the park, fo'jr-in-hand —
If you saw poor dear mairifna contriving
To look supematurally grand —
If you saw papa's picture, as taken
By Brady, and tinted at that —
You 'd never suspect he sold bacon
And flour at Poverty Flat.
: And yet, just this moment, when sitting
In the glare of the grand chandelier —
In the bustle and glitter befitting
The " finest soiree of the year."
In the mists of a gaze de Chambery,
And the hum of the smallest of talk —
Somehow, Joe, I thought of the ** Ferry,"*
And the dance that we had on " The Fork ; "
Of Harrison's barn with its muster
Of flags festooned over the v-^all ;
Of the candles that shed their soft lustre
And tallow on head-dress and shawl ;
Of the steps that we took to one fiddle ;
Of the dress of my queer vis-d-vis ;
And how I once went down the middle
With the man that shot Sandy McGee ;
Of the moon that was quietly sleeping
On the hill when the tin^e came to go ;
Or the few baby peaks that were peeping
From under their bedclothes of snow ;
HER LETTER. 195
Of that ride — that to me was the rarest ;
Of — the something you said at the gate ;
Ah, Joe, then I wasn *t an heiress
To " the best-paying lead in the State."
Well, well, it *s all past ; yet it 's funny
To think, as I stood in the glare
Of fashion, and beauty and money,
• That I should be thinking, right there,
Of some one who breasted high water.
And swam the North Fork, and all that,
Just to dance with old Folinsbee's daughter,
The liiy of Poverty Flat.
But goodness ! what nonsense I 'm writing I
(Mamma says my taste still is low)
Instead of my triumphs reciting,
I 'm spooning on Joseph — heigh-ho 1
And I *m to be " finished " by travel —
Whatever 's the meaning of that —
O, why did papa strike pay gravel
In drifting on Poverty Flat ?
Good night — here *s the end of my paper ;
Good night — if the longitude please —
For maybe, while wasting my taper,
Your sun 's climbing over the trees.
But know, if you haven 't got riches,
And are poor, deaiest Joe, cind all that.
That my heart 's somewhere there in the ditches,
And you Ve struck it^ — on Poverty Flat.
196 lewis's readings and recitations.
THADY DELANY ON THE CENSUS.
BY T. F. O'DONNELL.
Thady Delany, having gone to America, relates in
a letter to a friend how a Census Commissioner paid
him a visit after his arrival in New York.
" I 'd go back to Ould Oireland to-morrow if I had
the money, but bedad, the Httle I had was almost
spint over here before I was out av the stame-boat.
Talking av the stame-boat reminds me av the pig.
We wor in the Bowery for about a fortnite, livin' up
in the top av a house that was so high it took you a
couple av minutes to see anny wan in the sthreet,
when I up and ses to Biddy, " I '11 get a shanty av
me own somewhere or another, if there isn 't room
enuf in it to find yere way to yere meuth widout
knockin' yere elbow agin the morthar/ Biddy jumped
at the notion like a trout at a daddy long-legs on a
summer evenin/ an* so, to make a long sthory short,
we bought a little shanty an a little bonnive, which I
may tell ye, if ye don 't sthudy the langwidge av my
anshint ancisthurs, manes a little pig. We had
hardly time to get the smell av the Bowery out av our
noses, an' faith 'twas nice butthercups that wus growln'
in the nayborhood, whin in walks a gallivanther that
was so long and so thin that he might escape through
the chinks av a church door.
THADY DELANY ON THE CENSUS. 197
" Good mornin/' says he. Begor, I thought 'twas
another land-agint, an' I up an* ses as if I wus the
Prisidint — that 's the gintleman, I may tell ye, that 's
the same over here as the Queen ovur wid you —
" What do ye want ? ' ses I ; * the rint isn 't jue yit"
** I guess I don 't want anny rint/ ses he ; * I want
to take yere sensis.'
" Do ye ? ' says I, fur av coorse I thought he wus
makin' a hare av me ; * is it a lunatick asilum av yere
own ye '11 be afthur settin' up ? '*
" I want noan of vere Irish divarshuns/ ses he ;
* I *m an officur av the law.'
" Bedad/ ses I, * an' 'tis a private av yere regiment
that I was acquainted wid in Oireland ' — av coorse I
mint the bailiff — * an' he didn 't want anny rise in the
ranks to she ^^ his courage when he was daling wid
poor widows and childhur. But,' ses I, * if a poor
ignurant man like meself might give ye a bit av advoice,
ye 'd betther show the heels av yere boots, for if ye
don 't,' ses I — I thought he wus carry in' his jokin'
about a perch or two too far — * I '11 be afthur upsettin'
ye, ye altitudinous monument av deciption."
" I thought I 'd friten him wid what the school-
master in Ballymurphy called the Scripture reader,
whin he asked him to have his dinner wid him on a
Friday, and put a lump av mate in the pay soup."
" Oh," ses he, speakin' through his nose, as if he
had an influenzy av his own invention, " tis no offince
I mane — 'tis only some particklars I want, ses he,
* about the iamily ; the Guvirmint wants to know all
about ye.'
198 lewis's readings and recitations.
** Particklars ! " ses I, ' tisn 't particklar ye are to
come an' ax a dasint man ye nivur see before for his
sinses, and as fur the Guvirmint,' ses I, * as a friend
av mine said befoar, I was agin the Guvirmint at home,
and, be the powers, 1 11 be agin the Guvirmint here.'
" Ye don 't understhand me,' ses he, ' tisn 't yere
sinsis I want — 'tis only the Guvirment calls it that,
whin they want to know who ve are, an' how many ye
have in family, etcetera."
" Well," ses I, " if they mane to do anything for the
crathurs, I don 't mind telUn' ye all about Biddy and
the family, but as fer the etcetera,' ses I, * I nayther
have wan, nor did I ever see wan in Oireland/ an
believin' I wus talkin' like a councillor, ses I, * I 'm
thinkin' it must be an American invintion."
" Begor, he could hardly keep from laughin', an'
small blame to him, lor I found out afterwards that
etcetera mint the things about the house, like the tay-
cups, and the cocks and hins.
** Thin,' ses he, getti.n' as plisant as if we knew wan
anuther for twenty years, * whin yere names is down in
black and white in these books' — puUin' out enui av
papers to cover an ,vsfe av ground — * the Guvirmint
will read 'em the same as u they wor the Pi»esident's
blood relashuns.*
" Biddy didn 't say annything till he said that, an'
thin says she, * Thady agragal, give the gintlemen all
the infurmashun he wants, 'twill be the makin' av the
crathurs.'
" What 's your wife's furst name ? ' ses he.
" Biddy, av coorse,' ses I ; * ye must be an omaud-
haun if ye don 't know that'
THADY DELANY ON THE CENSUS. 199
" I don 't mane that,' ses he, ' I mane her name
before she was marrid.'
" Oh, faith,' ses I, * that 's a matther of curiosity to
meself, for the divil a name I ever knew her to have
before we went to the priest except Biddy, till I giv
her permission to use the family appilashun av the
Delanys.'
" How many in family have ye ? ' ses he.
" Five," ses I.
"What are they?' ses he, *are they males or
females ? And, also how many of aitch ? '
"Well,' ses I, * there 's meself an' Patsy, that 's males;
an' Biddy an' Molly, that 's females ; an' as the pig is
only a bonnive, I dinno whether she is av the lady or
gintleman pursuasion.' Oh, be the powers I spoke
to him like a geography.
" Oh,' ses he, " tis takin' up me time ye are — the
pig isn 't wan av the family ; 'tis only an etcetera.'
" Well,' ses I, " if ye called a poor man's pig su''**
an indasint name in Oireland, I 'm grately afraid 'tis
the ind av a blackthorn ye 'd be afther breaking \/id
the back av yere pate.' My blood was up then tor he
insulted the pig widout rime or layson.
" Which is the oldest ot the childhcr ? ' ses he.
" Molly,' ses I.
" How old is she ? " ses he.
" Do you recollect the time the widow Moiowny
Wits driven out av house an' heme in Ballymurphy,
bckase she wouldn *t pay ,
"Oh,' ses he stoppin' me short, *how could I
rumimber anything about the widow Moiowny, whin
200 lewis's readings and recitations.
I wus nivur nearer Oireland than three thousand miles
away ? "
** Well, thin,* ses I, * ye must do widout the infor-
mashun ye want for the Guvirmint.
" Well, thin, says he, gettin' as mad as a bull in a
pound, ' how old is Patsy ? '
" Do you remimber Mick Maguire's wake ? ' ses I
* whin the match was made between his brother Darby
and Peggy O'Shea, an' the Ryan's and the Dwyer's
had a fight about the bit av land at the comer of the
widow Rourke's field ? "
" Ye tarnation Connaught man/ ses he, looking for
all the world like wan av thim red railway lamps,
' give me your name."
**And if I give it to you says I, jibin' him till I
thought he 'd ate his quill pen, * whativer will I do for
one meself?" but I'll give ye the loan av it for
a quaither av an hour. 'Tis Thady Delany, of Bally-
murphy,' ses I ; an' if ye want a karacthur wid me,'
ses I, • there 's Father Fitzgerald that knows me since
I was the length av a traneen, an' if ye want any more
to spake about "
" Oh, I don 't want anny more,' says he, * ye gave
me enul lor a month av Sundays ; ' an' away he wint
wid his spectacles fly in' at the back av his coat, just
as the song says, as if his eyes wor in his poll, sir 1 "