§lp&* 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
3ASTIMES 
 
 A PRACTICAL MANUAL 
 
 . . . OF . . . 
 
 DELSARTE EXERCISES AND ELOCUTION 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE CULTIVATION AND 
 PRESERVATION OF THE VOICE 
 AND USE OF GESTURES, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 CHOICE SELECTIONS FOR READINGS 
 AND RECITATIONS. 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by W. B. Conkey Company. 
 
 CHICAGO «•« NEW YORK 
 
 -W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, Publishers 
 
 1897 
 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 3 
 
 DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 Music, to secure perfect unison in action, is a great help in 
 Delsarte exercises. In a simpler form of exercise with a number 
 of pupils together, they should stand in rows at such distance 
 apart that no movements of one would interfere with the other. 
 The swaying movement of the body followed by what is known 
 as the feather movements, varied, according to the judgment of 
 the teacher, should be accompanied by an air of the proper 
 measures to assist the work as much as possible. 
 
 The illustrations following assist in the explanation of class 
 work. Suppose some passages or recitations be chosen, allowing 
 it for simple and effective gesture, as for instance: He was as a 
 giant (1) who sometimes proved a dwarf (2). As a race horse (3) 
 faltering suddenly (4). As a blazing opal (5) defaced by a seam (6). 
 As a noble face (7) marred by disease (8). The transitions should 
 each be made, of course, during one bar of music, and the gesture 
 sustained during a bar. 
 
 Another admirable exercise consists in grouping the pupils, 
 with one exception, on either side of the stage, while one re¬ 
 maining in the center makes a series of poses, then joins one of 
 the groups while another takes her place. Here the attitudes are 
 much longer sustained. The figures given in the appended illus¬ 
 trations show the attitudes for different emotions represented. 
 This combined stage performance is very effective, and is most 
 beneficial to the pupil. 
 
 The costumes for such exercises should be of the classical 
 order, as those represented in the illustrations. They are inex¬ 
 pensive, and their graceful outline with the freedom of movement 
 they allow, make them most suitable for this class of work. 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 " Wi\o sonqetinqes 
 a dwarf.” 
 
 proved 
 

 DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 5 
 
 

 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 rqarred by disease. 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
 9 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES. 
 
*»frjce 
 
DELSARTE EXERCISES 
 
 15 
 
16 
 
 DELSARTE EXERCISES 
 
AND 
 
 PASTIMES 
 
 fl T <p^OMB 
 
 QOHOOb 
 
 IPAJEL'T I. 
 
 NOTHING LIKE TRYING. 
 
 
 1FE, after all, is a kindly affair, 
 
 Why is it stupid and not worth the living? 
 Striving and getting won’t drive away care, 
 Try giving. 
 
 Scowling and growling will make a man old; 
 
 Money and fame at the best are beguiling, 
 Don’t be suspicious, and selfish and cold, 
 
 Try smiling. 
 
 Happiness stands like a maid at your gate, 
 
 Why should you think you will find her by rov 
 ing? 
 
 Never was greater mistake than to hate; 
 
 Try loving. 
 
 DEW DIAMONDS. 
 
 A million little diamonds twinkled on the trees, 
 And all that the little maidens said, “ A jewel if 
 you please ?” 
 
 ( 17 ) 
 
18 
 
 But while they held their hands outstretched, 
 To catch the diamonds gay, 
 
 A million little sunbeams came 
 And stole them all away. 
 
 THE DUCKS. 
 
 One little black duck, one little gray, 
 
 Six little white ducks running out to play ; 
 One white lady duck, motherly and trim, 
 Eight little baby ducks bound for a swim. 
 
 One little white duck running from the water, 
 One very fat duck, pretty little daughter, 
 
 One very grave duck, swimming off alone, 
 One little white duck, standing on a stone. 
 One little lady duck, motherly and trim, 
 
 Eight little baby ducks bound for a swim. 
 
 One lazy black duck, taking quite a nap, 
 
 One precious little duck, on mamma’s lap. 
 
 “ YOU CAN’T COME IN SIR.” 
 
 If you would not be a drunkard 
 You must not drink a drop, 
 
 For if you never should begin 
 ^ You’ll never have to stop. 
 
 The taste for drink, good people say, 
 
 Is hard in driving out; 
 
 My friends, in letting in that taste, 
 
 Why, what are you about? 
 
 Out of your house to keep a thief 
 You shut your door, and lock it, 
 
 And hang the key upon a nail, 
 
 Or put it in your pocket. 
 
 So, lest king appetite within 
 
19 
 
 His horrid rule begin, sir, 
 
 Just shut your lips, and lock them tight, 
 And say, “ You can’t come in, Sir.” 
 
 OLD SHOES. 
 
 How much a man is like old shoes! 
 
 LOMGrELIOW’S FIRST POEM. 
 
 When Mr. Longfellow was nine years old his 
 teacher compelled him to write one of those 
 hateful things called “compositions.” He drop¬ 
 ped into poetry,” and turned out the lollowtug, 
 i-.ntltled “>'*•. Finney’s Turnip.” • 
 
 Mr. Finney had a turnip, 
 
 And it grew behind the barn; 
 And it grew, and it grew, 
 
 And the turnip did no harm. 
 
 And it grew, and jt grew. 
 
 Till it could glow no taller: 
 ^hfelfMr. Finney took it up 
 And put it in the cellar. 
 
 There it lay, ihere it lay, 
 
 Tilt it began to rot. 
 
 When his daughter Susie washed it 
 And put it in the pot. 
 
 ■ i'llen she boiled, It and boiled it. 
 As long as she was able; 
 
 Then his daughter Lizzie took u . 
 And put it on the table. 
 
 Mr. Finuev and his wife, 
 
 <£• Both sat down to sup; 
 
 And they ate, and they ate, 
 
 Until they ale the turnip up. 
 
 . —. . V« a T» mr v-t. «. * 
 
 t 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 -eap 
 
 ouuiu you wnen you look tor eggs ? 
 
 Do you drive the ducks to drink, waddling in a 
 row ? 
 
 Do the pigs in concert squeal, 
 
 When you bring their evening meal? 
 
 Tell me, little farmer boy, for I’d like to know. 
 
 2 
 
But while they held their hands outstretched, 
 To catch the diamonds gay, 
 
 A million little sunbeams came 
 And stole them all away. 
 
 THE DUCKS. 
 
 One little black duck, one little gray, 
 
 Six little white ducks running out to play ; 
 One white lady duck, motherly and trim, 
 Eight little baby ducks bound for a swim. 
 
 One little white duck running from the water, 
 One very fat duck, pretty little daughter, 
 
 One very grave duck, swimming off alone, 
 One little white duck, standing on a stone. 
 
 One little lady duck, motherly and trim, 
 
 Eight little baby ducks bound for a swim. 
 
 One lazy black duck, taking quite a nap, 
 
 One precious little duck, on mamma’s lap. 
 
 “ YOU CANT COME IN SIR.” 
 
 If you would not be a drunkard 
 
 You must not drink a drop, 
 
 For if you never should begin 
 ^ You’ll never have to stop. 
 
 The taste for drink, good people say, 
 Is hard in driving out; 
 
 My friends, in letting in that taste, 
 Why, what are you about? 
 
 Out of your house to keep a thief 
 You shut your door, and lock it, 
 And hang the key upon a nail, 
 
 Or put it in your pocket. 
 
 So, lest king appetite within 
 
19 
 
 His horrid rule begin, sir, 
 
 Just shut your lips, and lock them tight, 
 
 And say, “ You can’t come in, Sir.” 
 
 OLD SHOES. 
 
 How much a man is like old shoes! 
 
 For instance, both a sole may lose, 
 
 Both have been tanned, both are made tight 
 By cobblers ; both get left and right. 
 
 Both need a mate to be complete, 
 
 And both are made to go on feet; 
 
 They both need heeling, both are sold, 
 
 And both in time are turned to mold. 
 
 With shoes the last is first, with men 
 The first shall be the last; and when 
 The shoes wear out, they’re mended new, 
 
 When men wear out, they’re men-dead, too. 
 They both are trod upon, and both 
 Will tread on others, nothing loth, 
 
 Both have their ties, and both incline 
 When polished, in the world to shine; 
 
 And both peg out. Now would you choose 
 To be a man, or be his shoes? 
 
 BOYS. 
 
 Sturdy little farmer boys, tell me how you know 
 When ’tis time to plow the fields, and to reap 
 and mow. 
 
 Do the hens with yellow legs 
 Scold you when you look for eggs ? 
 
 Do you drive the ducks to drink, waddling in a 
 row ? 
 
 Do the pigs in concert squeal, 
 
 When you bring their evening meal? 
 
 Tell me, little farmer boy, for I’d like to know. 
 
 2 
 
20 
 
 Nimble little sailor boy, tell me how you know 
 How to navigate your ship when the tempests 
 blow. 
 
 Do you find it pretty hard 
 Clinging to the top-sail yard ? 
 
 Don’t you fear some stormy day overboard you’ll 
 go? 
 
 Do they let you take a light 
 When you go aloft at night ? 
 
 Tell me little sailor boy, for I’d like to know. 
 
 Little boys, of every kind, tell me how you know 
 I hat ’tis time ere school begins, rather ill to grow, 
 Does the pain increase so fast 
 It is terrible at last ? 
 
 Don’t you quickly convalesce, when too late to 
 go? 
 
 Do you think I am a dunce? 
 
 Wasn’t I a school boy once? 
 
 Tell me all you little boys, for I’d like to know. 
 
 KEEP TRYING. 
 
 If a boy should get discouraged 
 At lessons or at work, 
 
 And say “ I here’s no use trying,” 
 
 And all hard tasks should shirk, 
 
 mm k ee P on shirking, shirking, 
 
 1 ill the boy became a man, 
 
 I wonder what the world would do 
 1 o carry out its plan ? 
 
 The coward in the conflict 
 Gives up at first defeat; 
 
 If once repulsed, his courage 
 Lies shattered at his feet. 
 

 21 
 
 The brave heart wins the battle, 
 
 Because through thick and thin 
 He’ll not give up as conquered, 
 
 He fights, and fights to win. 
 
 So boys don’t get discouraged 
 Because at first you fail; 
 
 If you but keep on trying, 
 
 At last, you will avail. 
 
 Be stubborn against failure, 
 
 Try, try, and try again; 
 
 The boys who kept on trying, 
 
 Have made the world’s best men. 
 
 CRACKED. 
 
 'Twas a set of resolutions, as fine as fine could be, 
 And signed in painstaking fashion, by Nettie, and 
 Joe and Bee. 
 
 And last in the list was written, in letters broad 
 and dark, 
 
 To look as grand as the others, Miss Baby Grace, 
 her mark. 
 
 “We’ll try always to help our mother; 
 
 We won’t be selfish to each other; 
 
 We’ll say kind words to every one, 
 
 We won’t tie pussy’s feet for fun, 
 
 We won’t be cross and snarly too, 
 
 And all the good we can, we’ll do.” 
 
 “ It’s just as easy to keep them,” the children 
 gladly cried. 
 
 But mamma smiled, as she answered, “ Wait dar¬ 
 lings, until you have tried.” 
 
 And truly the glad New Year, wasn’t his birthday 
 old, 
 
 When three little sorrowful faces, a sorrowful 
 story told. 
 
 mmmmm 
 
“ And how are your good resolutions?” we asked 
 of Baby Grace, 
 
 Who stood with a smile of wonder, on her dear 
 little dimpled face ; 
 
 Quick came the merry answer, she never an in¬ 
 stant lacked, 
 
 “ I don’t fink much of ’ems broken ; 
 
 But I dess ’ems about all cracked.” 
 
 BABY HAS GONE TO SCHOOL. 
 
 The baby has gone to school; ah, me! 
 
 What will the mother do, 
 
 With never a call to button or pin, 
 
 Or tie a little shoe ? 
 
 How can she keep herself busy all day 
 With the little hindering thing away ? 
 
 Another basket to fill with lunch, 
 
 Another “ good-bye ” to say, 
 
 And the mother stands at the door to see 
 Her baby march away, 
 
 And turns with a sigh, that is half relief, 
 
 And half a something akin to grief. 
 
 She thinks of a possible future morn, 
 
 When the children, one by one, 
 
 Will go from their home out in the world 
 To battle with life alone, 
 
 And not even the baby left to cheer 
 The desolate home of that future year. 
 
 She picks up garments here and there, 
 Thrown down in careless haste, 
 
 And tries to think how it would seem 
 If nothing were displaced. 
 
If the house were always as still as this, 
 How could she bear the loneliness ? 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 BY WM. M. GIFFIN, N. J. 
 
 (Only geographical answers to be given.) 
 
 What has a mouth but cannot bite ? 
 
 What has an arm but cannot write? 
 
 What has a foot but cannot walk ? 
 
 What has a head but cannot talk? 
 
 What has a bank with no money in ? 
 
 What has a top that cannot spin? 
 
 What has a neck but has no head ? 
 
 What never sleeps but has a bed ? 
 
 What hook will never catch a fish ? 
 
 What has a basin but not a dish ? 
 
 Where are the locks keys do not turn ? 
 Where are the capes that are not worn ? 
 What has a branch but has no leaves? 
 
 What has no locks but has some keys? 
 
 What always falls but gets no scratches? 
 What is the ball that no one catches? 
 
 What is quite long but is not tall? 
 
 What has a base but plays no ball ? 
 
 What are the poles that nobody climbs? 
 Where are the boys to answer these rhymes 
 
 LITTLE KITTY. 
 
 Once there was a little kitty, 
 
 Whiter than snow ; 
 
 In the barn she used to frolic, 
 
 Long time ago. 
 
2 4 
 
 In the barn a little mousie 
 Ran to and fro; 
 
 For she heard the kitty coming, 
 
 Long time ago. 
 
 Two eyes had little kitty, 
 
 Black as a sloe; 
 
 And they spied the little mousie, 
 
 Long time ago. 
 
 Nine teeth had little kitty, 
 
 All in a row ; 
 
 And they bit the little mousie, 
 
 Long time ago. 
 
 When the teeth bit little mousie, 
 
 Little mousie cried, “ Oh !” 
 
 But she got away from kitty, 
 
 Long time ago. 
 
 Kitty White so shyly comes, 
 
 To catch the mousie Grrev j 
 But mousie hears her softly step, 
 
 And quickly runs away. 
 
 So Jigs and Rhymes for Little Ones. 
 
 HOW THE FLOWERS GROW. 
 
 First a seed so tiny, hidden from the sip-ht 
 
 611 light ^ ea ^ e ^ s > struggling toward the 
 
 Soon a bud appearing, turns into a flower, 
 KlSSed showm° dCn sunshine ’ was hed by silver 
 Growing sweeter, sweeter, every happy hour ■ 
 KlSSed sho Y wer lden SUnshine ’ wa shed ? by silvery 
 
25 
 
 TIME ENOUGH. 
 
 Two little squirrels, out in the sun,— 
 One gathered nuts; the other had none; 
 “ Time enough yet,” his constant refiain, 
 “ Summer is still just on the wane. 
 
 Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate: 
 
 He roused him at last, but he roused him to 
 
 lcltC * 
 
 Down fell the snow from a pitiless cloud. 
 
 And gave little squirrel a spotless white shroud. 
 
 Two little boys in a schoolroom were placed : 
 
 One always perfect, the other disgraced ; 
 
 “ Time enough yet for learning,” he said, 
 
 “ I will climb by and by, from the foot to the 
 
 head/* 
 
 Listen, my friends ; their locks are turned gray, 
 One, as a governor, sitteth to-day. 
 
 The other, a pauper, looks out at the door 
 Of the almshouse, and idles his days, as ol yore. 
 
 Two kinds of people we meet every day ; 
 
 One is at work, the other at play. 
 
 Living, uncared for, dying unknown, 
 
 The busiest hive hath ever a drone. 
 
 THE CONCEITED GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 There was a little grasshopper 
 Forever on the jump ; 
 
 And as he never looked ahead, 
 
 He often got a bump. 
 
 His mother said to him one day, 
 
 As they were in the stubble, 
 
“ If you don’t look before you leap 
 You’ll get yourself in trouble.” 
 
 The silly little grasshopper 
 Despised his wise old mother, 
 
 And said he knew what best to do, 
 
 And bade her not to bother. 
 
 He hurried off across the fields— 
 
 An unknown path he took— 
 
 When, oh ! he gave a heedless jump, 
 And landed in a brook. 
 
 He struggled hard to reach the bank— 
 A floating straw he seizes 
 
 When quick a hungry trout darts out, 
 And tears him all to pieces. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Good little boys and girls heed well 
 Your mother’s wise advice ; 
 
 Before you move, look carefully, 
 
 Before you speak, think twice. 
 
 FROGS AT SCHOOL. 
 
 Twenty froggies went to school 
 Down beside a rushy pool— 
 
 Twenty little coats of green, 
 
 Twenty vests all white and clean. 
 
 Master Bullfrog, on a log, 
 
 Taught them how to say, “Ker-chog !” 
 
 Taught them how to nobly strive, 
 
 Like wise how to leap and dive. 
 
Showed them how to dodge a blow 
 From the sticks that bad boys throw. 
 
 Twenty froggies grew up fast, 
 
 Bullfrogs they became at last. 
 
 Not one lesson they forgot, 
 
 Not one dunce among the lot. 
 
 Now they sit on other logs, 
 
 Teaching other little frogs. 
 
 A SCHOLAR. 
 
 Yes, I am five years old to-day ! 
 
 Last week I put my dolls away ; 
 
 For it was time, I’m sure you’ll say, 
 
 For one so old to go 
 To school, and learn to read and spell; 
 
 And I am doing very well; 
 
 Perhaps you’d like to hear me tell 
 How many things I know. 
 
 Well, if you’ll only take a look- 
 Yes, this is it—the last I took, 
 
 Here in my pretty picture-book, 
 
 Just near the purple cover ;— 
 
 Now listen—Here are one, two, three 
 Wee little letters, don’t you see? 
 
 Their names are D and O and G; 
 
 They spell—now guess !—Old Rover! 
 
 — St. Nicholas. 
 
 NEVER OUT OF SIGHT. 
 
 There is a little saying 
 Which you’ll find is always true, 
 
My little boy, my little girl— 
 
 A saying that’s for you ; 
 
 Tis this, my darling little one, 
 
 With eyes so clear and bright: 
 
 “ No child in all this careless world 
 Is ever out of sight.” 
 
 No matter whether field or glen, 
 
 Or city’s crowded way, 
 
 Or pleasure’s laugh, or labor’s hum, 
 Entice your feet to stray; 
 
 Some one is always watching you ! 
 
 And, whether wrong or right, 
 
 No child in all this busy world 
 Is ever out of sight. 
 
 Some one is always watching you, 
 And marking all you do, 
 
 To see if all your childhood’s acts 
 Are honest, brave and true ; 
 
 And watchers of the heavenly world, 
 God’s angels, pure and white, 
 
 In joy or sorrow at your course, 
 
 Are keeping out of sight. 
 
 Bear this in mind, my lit tie one, 
 
 And let your aim be high ; 
 
 You do whatever you may do 
 Beneath some seeing eye. 
 Remember this, my darling one, 
 
 No’r-M P u y( ? Ur S ood name bright, 
 o child who lives upon the earth 
 
 is ever out of sight. 
 
 WHAT MAKES A MAN? 
 
 " Fnll U f hfl ff SOu1, a lov >ng mind, 
 
 Full of affection for its kind; 
 
29 
 
 A spirit firm, erect, and free, 
 
 That never basely bends a knee ; 
 
 That will not bend a feather’s weight 
 Of slavery’s chance for small or great; 
 
 That truly speaks Irom God within, 
 
 That never makes a league with sin. 
 
 That snaps the fetters despots make, 
 
 And loves the truth for its own sake. 
 
 That worships God, and him alone ; 
 
 And bows no more than at his throne. 
 
 And trembles at no tyrant’s nod, 
 
 A soul that fears no one but God. 
 
 And thus can smile at curse or ban, 
 
 This is the soul that makes a man.” 
 
 THE WIND. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 What way does the Wind come ? What way does 
 he go? 
 
 He rides over the water and over the snow, 
 
 He tosses about in every bare tree, 
 
 As if you look up, you plainly may see; 
 
 But how he will come, and whither he goes, 
 There’s never a scholar in England that knows. 
 
 He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook 
 And ring a sharp ’larum;—but if you should look, 
 There’s nothing to see but a cushion of snow, 
 Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk, 
 
 And softer than if it were covered with silk; 
 Sometimes he’ll hide in the cave of a rock, 
 
 Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock ; 
 
 Yet seek him,—and what shall you find in the 
 place ? 
 
30 
 
 Nothing but silence and empty space ; 
 
 Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,’ 
 
 That he’s left for a bed to beggars and thieves. 
 
 As soon as ’tis daylight to-morrow, with me 
 \ on shaH go to the orchard, and then you will see 
 I hat he has been there, and made a great rout 
 And ciackled the branches and strewn them about. 
 
 Hark ! over the roof he makes a pause 
 And growls as if he would fix his claws 
 Right into the slates, and with a huge Seattle 
 Unve them down, like men in a battle, 
 
 But let lnm rage round; lie does us no’harm— 
 
 VV e build up the fire, we’re snug and we’re warm • 
 He may knock at the door,—we’ll not let him in;’ 
 May drive at the windows,—we’ll laugh at his din ; 
 L,et. nun seek his own home, whereve** it be • 
 
 Here’s a cosy warm house for you and for ine. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE LITTLE BUILDERS 
 
 WM. OLAND BOURNE. 
 
 Little builders ! build away ! 
 
 Little builders! build to-day! 
 
 Build a temple pure and bright, 
 
 Build it up in deeds of light; 
 
 Lay the corner strong and deep, 
 
 VV here the heart the truth shall keep; 
 
 Lay it with a builder’s care, 
 
 For the temple resteth there. 
 
 If you want an honored name, 
 
 If you want a spotless fame, 
 
 Let your words be kind and pure, 
 
 And your temple shall endure; 
 
Wisdom standeth at the door, 
 
 Come and see her priceless store: 
 
 Virtue gently guides your feet 
 Where the good and holy meet. 
 
 Set the pillars firm and strong, 
 
 Raise them with the worker’s song; 
 
 Toil is prayer, and toil is praise, 
 
 Keep this worship all your days; 
 
 Let your life be loving deeds, 
 
 Go and help when sorrow pleads; 
 
 Let the tear of pity fall 
 
 When you hear the mourner call. 
 
 Little builders ! build away ! 
 
 There is work for you to-day; 
 
 Deeds of mercy and of truth, 
 
 Making bright the hours of youth ; 
 
 Work, and pray, and joyous sing, 
 
 Ever fast to virtue cling, 
 
 And a temple so sublime 
 Shall outlast the years of time. 
 
 THE THREE LITTLE BUGS. 
 
 Three little bugs in a basket, 
 
 And hardly room for two, 
 
 And one was yellow, and one was black, 
 
 And one like me or you— 
 
 The space was small, no doubt for all, 
 
 But what should three bugs do? 
 
 Three little bugs in a basket, 
 
 And hardly crumbs for two, 
 
 And all were selfish in their hearts, 
 
 The same as I or you. 
 
 So the strong ones said, “ We’ll eat the crumbs, 
 And that s what we will do.” 
 
Three little bugs in a basket, 
 
 And the beds but two would hold ; 
 
 So they all three fell to quarreling, 
 
 The white, the black, and the gold; 
 
 And two of the bugs got under the rugs, 
 And one was out in the cold! 
 
 So he that was left in the basket, 
 
 Without a crumb to chew, 
 
 Or a thread to wrap himself withal, 
 
 When the winds across him blew, 
 
 Pulled one of the rugs from off the bugs, 
 And so the quarrel grew. 
 
 And so there were none in the basket— 
 
 Ah, pity ’t is ’tis true ! 
 
 But he that was frozen and starved, at last 
 A strength from his weakness drew, 
 
 And pulled the rug from both the bugs, 
 
 And killed and ate them too. 
 
 Now, when bugs live in a basket, 
 
 Though more than it can hold, 
 
 It seems to me they had.better agree, 
 
 The white, the black, and the gold ; 
 
 And share what comes of beds and crumbs, 
 And leave no bug in the cold. 
 
 —Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones „ 
 
 “ GRAN’MA AL’US DOES.” 
 
 I want to mend my wagon 
 And I has to have some nails, 
 
 Jus’ two free will be plenty, 
 
 We’re going to haul our rails. 
 
 The splendidest cob fences 
 We’re making never was; 
 
I wis’ you’d help us find ’em, 
 Gran’ma alius does. 
 
 I wants some bread and butter 
 I’s hungry worstest kind ; 
 But Taddie mustn’t have none 
 Cause she wouldn’t mind. 
 Put plenty sugar on it 
 Tell you what I knows, 
 
 It’s right to put on sugar 
 Gran’ma alius does. 
 
 HANDS. 
 
 MARY K. HANLEY. 
 
 I gazed on the hand of an infant, 
 Chubby, dimpled, fair, 
 Grasping the golden sunbeams, 
 Or toying with mamma’s hair; 
 And smiled on the tiny creature, 
 At the gate of human life ; 
 Entering, crowing, laughing, 
 
 On the field of earthly strife. 
 
 And saw it, the hand of beauty, 
 Decked with gems of gold, 
 
 The hand of a promising maiden 
 With her destiny all untold ; 
 She meets her king, her lover, 
 Yields up her woman’s heart, 
 And in the old, old play of life, 
 Begins her unstudied part. 
 
 The play, alas ! proved tragic, 
 
 I saw her poor bent head, 
 
 The widowed, weeping mother, 
 
With all ambition dead. 
 
 Let the boy she rears to manhood 
 Gaze on her hardened palm, 
 
 And own the hand of beauty 
 Held never so great a charm. 
 
 Go out in the world and struggle 
 That her toil-worn hand may rest, 
 Crown her with a lifelong love, 
 
 The purest and the best; 
 
 And should her second childhood 
 Come to her weary heart. 
 
 Let her grasp again the sunbeams 
 That from affection dart. 
 
 SEVEN POINTS FOR BOYS. 
 
 1. Be honest, be honest, I say; 
 
 Be honest at work, be honest at play ; 
 
 The same in the dark as when in the light; 
 
 Your deeds need not then be kept out of sight. 
 
 2. The next thing you need is knowledge, my boy ; 
 
 This virtue, indeed, your time should employ; 
 
 Let knowledge display integrity, too, 
 
 And you’ll seldom say, “ I’ve nothing to do.” 
 
 3. But work calls for action, muscle and will; 
 
 Boys must “ get up and get,” their station to fill; 
 
 And boys should be active as ever they can— 
 
 A dull, stupid boy grows up a dull, stupid man. 
 
 4* But simple activity will not suffice ; 
 
 Some shrewd, active boys are shirks in disguise, 
 ley make all the moves the industrious do, 
 ut don t care a fig to push business through. 
 
35 
 
 5. The next thing in order—avoiding display— 
 Is, boys should be careful to hear and obey, 
 Not even presuming to make a reply, 
 
 Not muttering, say, “ I’ll go by and by,’' 
 
 But promptly obey with a hearty good will, 
 Attempting, at least, the whole order to fill. 
 
 6. Again: Be not fitful, but stick to your work, 
 Never let it be said that you are a shirk; 
 
 But when any task is fairly begun, 
 
 Keep “ pegging away” until it is done. 
 
 7. Be honest, be wise, and industrious too ; 
 
 Be active, obedient, obliging, and true; 
 
 Be faithful in all things, be clean as you can, 
 Polite in your manners, and you’ll be a man. 
 
 — Uncle A mas a in the Baptist. 
 
 TO THE BOYS. 
 
 HENRY DOWNTON. 
 
 Whatever you are, be brave, boys! 
 
 The liar’s a coward and slave, boys; 
 Though clever at ruses 
 And sharp at excuses, 
 
 He’s a sneaking and pitiful knave, boys! 
 
 Whatever you are, be frank, boys ! 
 
 ’Tis better than money and rank, boys; 
 Still cleave to the right, 
 
 Be lovers of light, 
 
 Be open, above-board, and frank, boys! 
 
 Whatever you are, be kind, bovs! 
 
 Be gentle in manners and mind, boys! 
 The man gentle in mien, 
 
 3 
 
Words and temper, I ween, 
 
 Is a gentleman truly refined, boys'. 
 
 But whatever you are, be true, boys! 
 Be visible through and through, boys ; 
 Leave to others the shammings, 
 The “ greening ” and “ cramming,” 
 In fun and in earnest, be true, boys! 
 
 GOOD MANNERS. 
 
 Good manners are the greatest charms one can 
 possess. Young people should cultivate them 
 assiduously. Money cannot buy them. There is 
 only one way to obtain good manners, and that is 
 by daily, constant practice. Always use good 
 manners at home and at school, then you need 
 not be alarmed when among strangers, for it will 
 be perfectly natural to be polite and respectful to 
 all. 
 
 Remember, that politeness is of great'value, yet 
 costs nothing but your own pains to acquire, and 
 that 
 
 “ To be polite is always to do and to say, 
 
 The kindest things, in the kindest way.” 
 
 LITTLE BY LITTLE. 
 
 “ Little by little,” the tempter said, 
 
 As a dark and cunning snare he spread, 
 
 For the young unwary feet; 
 
 Little by little, and day by day, 
 
 I will tempt the careless soul astray 
 Into the broad and fiowery way, 
 
 Until the ruin be complete.” 
 
“ Little by little,” sure and slow,\ 
 
 We fashion our future of bliss and woe, 
 
 As the present passes away. 
 
 Our feet are climbing the stairway bright, 
 Up to the regions of endless light; 
 
 Or gliding downward into the night, 
 
 Little by little, and day by day. 
 
 A BOY’S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Here are questions in physics and grammar 
 That would puzzle you somewhat I know; 
 Can you tell what is meant by inertia? 
 
 Can you clearly define rain and snow ? 
 
 Do you know there’s a valve in the bellows? 
 
 Can you tell why your clock is too slow ? 
 Why the pendulum needs looking after ? 
 Perhaps it is swinging too low. 
 
 “ They was going up town in the evening,” 
 
 Do you call that bad grammar, I say? 
 
 I’m sure Mary Jones and her mother 
 Say worse things than that every day. 
 
 But I s’pose “ was ” should be in the plural, 
 
 To agree with its old subject l \ihey, : ' 
 According to rule—my ! I’ve lost it, 
 
 There’s two per cent, gone right away. 
 
 And now, only look at the parsing, 
 
 It will surely take in every rule ; 
 
 And down at the end more false syntax, 
 
 With authorities given “in full.” 
 
 Arithmetic, my ! how I hate it, 
 
 I’m stupid at that in the class, 
 
33 
 
 So how, in the name of creation, 
 
 Can I be expected to pass? 
 
 Here’s a ten-acre lot to be fenced in, 
 
 Here is duty to find on some tea ; 
 
 Here’s a problem in old aligation, 
 
 And a monstrous square-root one I see. 
 
 Can you tell who defeated the Indians? 
 
 Do you know who was killed in a duel ? 
 
 Do you know what the first tax was raised on ? 
 And how some just thought it was cruel ? 
 
 Perhaps I may pass on an average, 
 
 If three-fourths are right I’ll get through ; 
 
 But my teacher calls such standing shabby, 
 
 So what is a poor boy to do? 
 
 —Annie H. Streeter in Buffalo Express. 
 
 THE DONATION PARTY. 
 
 They carried the pie to the parson’s house 
 And scattered the floor with crumbs, 
 
 And marked the leaves of his choicest books 
 With the prints of their greasy thumbs. 
 
 They piled his dishes high and thick 
 With a lot of unhealthy cake, 
 
 While they gobbled the buttered toast and rolls 
 Which the parson’s wife did make. 
 
 They hung'around Clyde’s classic neck 
 Their apple-parings for sport, 
 
 And every one laughed when a clumsy lout 
 Spilt tea on the piano-forte. 
 
 Next day the parson went down on his knees 
 
39 
 
 With his wife—but not to pray ; 
 
 Oh, no, ’twas to scrape the grease and dirt 
 From the carpet and stairs away. 
 
 MAKE A BEGINNING. 
 
 Remember in all things, that if you n °t be¬ 
 gin you will never come to an end. i he nrst 
 weed pulled up, the first seed put into the 
 ground, the first dollar saved, the first example 
 performed, and the first mile traveled on a jour¬ 
 ney, are ail important things. They make a be¬ 
 ginning, and show that you are in earnest and mean 
 to do what you have undertaken. How many a 
 poor, idle, hesitating outcast is now creeping along 
 who might have held up his head and prospei ed i 
 he had only made a beginning! “Well begun is 
 half done,” is an old but true saying.. Try it boys, 
 and prove that a good beginning is halt oi the 
 
 battle. 
 
 WHAT WE LEARN AT SCHOOL. 
 
 (For five little children.) 
 
 (All.) Fathers, mothers, see us now, 
 
 As we make a pretty bow. 
 
 Next we ll tell you, each in turn, 
 
 What it is we here do learn. 
 
 (ist.) First we’re taught in kindly way, 
 
 We our teacher should obey : 
 
 When we strive to do the right 
 We are happy morn and night. 
 
 (2d.) And we try to keep in mind, 
 
 We to others should be kind ; 
 
40 
 
 For we know that all through life 
 We must shun dispute and strife. 
 
 (3d.) Then, to meet another need, 
 
 Ev’ry one learns how to read. 
 
 As you all can see at once 
 No one means to be a dunce. 
 
 (4th.) Now we spell, and now we write, 
 ’Till we know each word at sight; 
 Thus you see how well we learn 
 Each new thing to which we turn. 
 
 (5th.) Now to add and take away, 
 
 This we learn from day to day ; 
 How to bound our State we know ; 
 East or south, the way we go. 
 
 (All.) But we have no time to tell 
 
 All the things we’ve learned so well, 
 So we ask you, one and all, 
 
 At our school again to call. 
 
 THE BLUES. 
 
 Trip lightly over trouble ; 
 
 Trip lightly over wrong, 
 
 We only make it double, 
 
 By dwelling on it long. 
 
 Trip lightty over sorrow, 
 
 Though all the day be dark, 
 
 The sun may shine to-morrow, 
 And gaily sing the lark. 
 
 While stars are mighty shining, 
 And heaven is overhead, 
 
Encourage not repining, 
 
 But look for joy ahead. 
 
 BE TRUE. 
 
 Listen, my boy, I’ve a word for you, 
 
 And this is the word : Be true ! Be true ! 
 At work or at play, in darkness or light, 
 
 Be true, be true, and stand for the right. 
 
 List, little girl, I’ve a word for you. 
 
 ’Tis the very same word : Be true ! Be true 
 For truth is the sun, and falsehood the night; 
 Be true, little maid, and stand for the right. 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
 Down in the fields one day in June, 
 
 The flowers all bloomed together, 
 
 Save one who thought to hide herself— 
 
 And drooped, that pleasant weather. 
 
 A robin, who had soared too high, 
 
 And felt a little lazy, 
 
 Was resting near a buttercup, 
 
 Who wished she was a daisy. 
 
 The buttercups must always be 
 The same all-tiresome color, 
 
 While daisies dress in gold and white, 
 
 Altho’ their gold is duller ! 
 
 “ Dear Robin,” said this sad young flower, 
 
 “ Perhaps you won’t mind trying 
 To find a nice white frill for me 
 Some day when you are flying.” 
 
42 
 
 “You silly thing,” the robin said, 
 
 “ I think you must be crazy ; 
 
 I’d rather be my honest self, 
 
 Than any made-up daisy. 
 
 “ You’re nicer in your own bright gown ; 
 
 The little children love you ; 
 
 Be the best buttercup you can, 
 
 And think no flower above you. 
 
 “ Tho’ swallows leave us out of sight, 
 
 We’d better keep our places ; 
 
 Perhaps the world would go all wrong 
 With one too many daisies!” 
 
 A BOY’S COMFORTS. 
 
 A boy don’t have much comfort in life any way 
 when the grown folks begin to get after him! A 
 boy has an awful lot of work to do. there is 
 going errands—that’s about the hardest and long¬ 
 est job in the world. It’s astonishing the time it 
 takes to go an errand. Now, when I’m sent to the 
 neighbors for yeast, it seems as enough it would 
 take all day. I can’t exactly explain it, but there 
 are such a lot of things coming up in the way all 
 the time. First there’s a chippie on the telegraph 
 wire ; sometimes I pick up nearly a ton of stones 
 to throw at a chippie, but he won’t fly away. Seems 
 as he was stuffed, and glued on, he stays and stays 
 there, and I can’t hit him. Of course that takes 
 time. Then if another fellow goes with me that 
 takes more time. Did you ever notice it takes two 
 boys longer to go an errand than it does one? 
 That’s because two boys see more things to stop 
 for than one does. 
 
 My mother says she wishes I would find some 
 
43 
 
 way to get over the ground quicker, so I’ve been 
 trying to find a way, and I think I’ve found it. 
 Do you know how to make a “ cart-wheel ” ? Well, 
 I won’t show you here, but you just go along with 
 hands and feet over and over sideways like a wheel, 
 [’m getting it down fine so I can go pretty fast, 
 and beat Tommy Jones all to pieces ; it’s fun too, 
 I tell you. Nothing for a boy like combining busi¬ 
 ness and pleasure; for a boy don’t have many 
 comforts. 
 
 GENIE’S ALMANAC. 
 
 Monday to wash all my dolly’s clothes, 
 Lots to be done as you may suppose, 
 Tuesday to iron and put away, 
 
 That takes a body the live-long day. 
 Wednesday to darn, to fix, and to mend, 
 Plenty of sewing, you may depend. 
 Thursday, if shining, we visiting go, 
 
 Then we are dressed in our best, you know. 
 Friday, oh then we go out to shop, 
 
 Once you get started, ’tis hard to stop. 
 Saturday, polish, scrub and bake, 
 
 Tired out, hardly can keep awake. 
 
 Sunday, oh, that day of all is the best, 
 
 Glad it is here, now we can rest. 
 
 CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 Child Jesus comes from heaven to-night, 
 To save us from Sin’s keeping, 
 
 On manger’s straw, in darksome night, 
 The blessed lies sleeping. 
 
 The star smiles down, the angels greet, 
 The oxen kiss the baby’s feet. 
 
Take courage, soul, in grief cast down, 
 Forget the bitter dealing; 
 
 A child is born in David’s town, 
 
 To touch all souls with healing. 
 
 Then let us go and seek the child, 
 
 Children like him, meek, undefiled, 
 
 The holy child Jesus. 
 
 A WORD. 
 
 A little word in kindness spoken, 
 
 A motion, or a tear, 
 
 Has often healed the heart that’s broken, 
 And made a friend sincere. 
 
 A word—a look—has crushed to earth 
 Full many a budding flower ; 
 
 Which, had a smile but owned its birth 
 Would bless life’s darkest hour. 
 
 Then deem it not an idle thing, 
 
 A pleasant word to speak; 
 
 The face you wear, the thought you bring 
 A heart may heal, or break. 
 
 DICK’S SUPPER. 
 
 MRS. E. T. CORBITT. 
 
 Dick looked out of the window one night, 
 
 The moon shone bright, 
 
 The round, full moon, so silvery white. 
 
 “ See,” cried Dick, “ it looks so sweet, 
 I’m sure it must be good to eat— 
 
 Suppose l take it down to-night, 
 
 Just for a treat, 
 
 And try one little, little bite!” 
 
45 
 
 Then Dick climbed up on the chimney—so, 
 The moon hung low, 
 
 Bright as silver and pure as snow; 
 
 He snatched it quickly, and cried, “ Ho! ho! 
 It makes me think of my birthday cake, 
 
 All covered with sugar; 
 
 A bite I’ll take— 
 
 Just one, and nobody ’ll know !” 
 
 But Dicky’s mouth was, oh! so wide, 
 
 That the moon had nearly slipped inside— 
 
 He took such a monstrous bite, you see; 
 
 But it wasn’t nice— 
 
 It was colder than ice, 
 
 And it made his tooth ache terribly. 
 
 “ Oh, dear ! oh, dear!” he began to cry, 
 
 “ I wouldn’t have the thing, not I !” 
 
 Quickly he hung it again in the sky, 
 
 Slid down the chimney and went to bed. 
 Then under the blankets he tucked his head, 
 
 “ For I know,” so he said, 
 
 “ If any one thought I had bitten the moon, 
 I’d be whipped very soon!” 
 
 ONLY A PIN. 
 
 Only a pin! 
 
 And it calmly lay 
 In the shining light 
 Of a bright noonday. 
 
 Only a boy, 
 
 He saw the pin, 
 
 And fixed on it a look intent 
 
 Till boy and pin alike were bent. 
 
46 
 
 Only a chair— 
 
 It had no business standing- there. 
 
 The boy he put on a fiendish grin, 
 
 And on the seat of that chair he fixed that pin. 
 
 Only a man, 
 
 He sat on that chair, 
 
 And as he rose— 
 
 So did his hair. 
 
 Only a yell! 
 
 But an honest one ; 
 
 It lacked all elements of fun, 
 
 And man, and boy, and pin and chair, 
 
 In wild confusion mingled there. 
 
 A CAPITAL. 
 
 A man must have a capital before he can start 
 in any business, if it is nothing more than keeping 
 a peanut stand. The capital heed not always be 
 money ; it may be brains, a sound education, a 
 trade or profession, or it may be nothing but a 
 stock of energy for any kind of honest labor. 
 Either of these are good capitals. The world 
 wants young men who know how to do some¬ 
 thing, and can do it well. There is always a de¬ 
 mand for good lawyers, good physicians, teachers, 
 butchers, bakers, or candlestick makers; but there 
 is none for the lazy young man who only knows 
 how to part his hair in the middle or dance the 
 latest waltz step, whose stock of information ex¬ 
 tends only to the latest style in tailoring, or the 
 latest race or prize fight. These are the young 
 men that are always complaining of the world, 
 who find nothing in life worth living for. They 
 are dissatisfied with everything and everybody, 
 
47 
 
 themselves included, and it is no wonder. They 
 
 have nothing- to be satisfied with; they are bank¬ 
 rupt young men; they have no capital. 
 
 THE BAREFOOT BOY THAT DRIVES 
 THE CATTLE HOME. 
 
 ’Tis evening, and the round, red sun sinks slowly 
 in the west; 
 
 The flowers fold their petals up, the birds fly to the 
 nest; 
 
 The crickets chirrup in the grass, and bats wheel to 
 and fro, 
 
 And tinkle-tankle up the lane the lowing cattle go. 
 
 And the rich man from his carriage looks out on 
 them as they come— 
 
 On them, and on the barefoot boy that drives the 
 cattle home. 
 
 “ I wish,” the boy said to himself, “ I was that mil¬ 
 lionaire, 
 
 I’d have a palace for my home and never know a 
 care; 
 
 There is no wish that heart could frame I would 
 not gratify, 
 
 There would not be in all the land a happier man 
 than I! 
 
 What joy ’twould be to lead a life where cares 
 would never come, 
 
 And be no more the barefoot boy that drives the 
 cattle home.” 
 
 And the rich man sighs unto himself: “ My wealth 
 I’d gladly give 
 
 Could I live another life than that which I now 
 live— 
 
48 
 
 Could I leave behind the dust, and glare, and tu¬ 
 mult of the town, 
 
 And sleep at night without a care if stocks went 
 up or down. 
 
 O, I’d give my palace and my yacht that sails the 
 ocean foam, 
 
 To be once more the barefoot boy that drives the 
 cattle home.” 
 
 DO YOU GUESS IT IS I? 
 
 The following is a very effective recitation for a young child. 
 
 Have the little one laugh, cry and point to eyes, nose, mouth, show 
 
 fingers, etc., and it never fails to please the audience: 
 
 I am a little thing, 
 
 I am not very high; 
 
 I laugh, dance and sing, 
 
 And sometimes I cry. 
 
 I have a little head 
 A11 covered o’er with hair, 
 
 And I hear what is said 
 With my two ears there. 
 
 On my two feet I walk ; 
 
 I run, too, with ease; 
 
 With my little tongue I talk 
 Just as much as I please. 
 
 1 have ten fingers, too, 
 
 And just so many toes; 
 
 Two eyes to see through, 
 
 And but one little nose. 
 
 I’ve a mouth full of teeth 
 Where my bread and milk go in ; 
 
49 
 
 And close by, underneath, 
 
 Is my little round chin. 
 
 What is this little thing-, 
 
 Not very, very high, 
 
 That can laugh, dance and sing. 
 
 Do you guess it is—I ? 
 
 — Mrs. Folleris Little Songs. 
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT. 
 
 EDWARD LEAR. 
 
 The owl and the pussy-cat went to sea, 
 
 In a beautiful pea-green boat, 
 
 They took some honey and lots of money, 
 
 Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
 
 The owl looked up to the moon above, 
 
 And sang to his light guitar : 
 
 Oh, pussy, oh, pussy, oh, pussy, my love, 
 
 What a beautiful pussy you are, you are, 
 
 What a beautiful pussy you are.” 
 
 Pussy said to the owl, “ You beautiful fowl, 
 
 How charmingly sweet you sing ; 
 
 Come let us be married, too long have we tarried, 
 But what shall we do for a ring?” 
 
 So they sailed away for a year and a day, 
 
 To the land where the song-tree grows; 
 
 And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood, 
 
 With a ring in the end of his nose, his nose, 
 With a ring in the end of his nose. 
 
 “ Dear P j g> are you willing to sell for one shilling 
 your ring?” 
 
 Says the piggy, “ I will.” 
 
50 
 
 So they took it away, and were married next day, 
 By the turkey who lives on the hill, 
 d h^y dined upon mince and slices of quince, 
 
 Which they ate with a runcible spoon; 
 
 And, hand in hand on the golden sand, 
 
 They danced by the light of the moon, the 
 
 moon, 
 
 They danced by the light of the moon. 
 
 WHY SOME BIRDS HOP, AND OTHERS 
 
 WALK. 
 
 A little bird sat on a twig of a tree, 
 
 A swinging and singing as glad as could be, 
 
 And shaking his tail, and smoothing his dress, 
 
 And having such fun as you never could guess. 
 
 And when he had finished his gay little song, 
 
 He flew down in the street and went hopping 
 along, 
 
 This way and that way with both little feet, 
 
 While his sharp little eyes looked for something 
 to eat. 
 
 A little boy said to him : “ Little bird, stop 
 
 And tell me the reason you go with a hop, 
 
 Why don't you walk, as boys do, and men, 
 
 One foot at a time, like a dove or a hen ?” 
 
 Then the little bird went with a hop, hop, hop , 
 And he laughed, and he laughed as he never would 
 stop; 
 
 And he said: “ Little boy, there are some birds 
 
 that talk, 
 
 And some birds that hop, and some birds that 
 walk. 
 
5i 
 
 " Use your eyes, little boy; watch closely and see 
 What little birds hop, both feet just like me, 
 
 And what little birds walk, like the duck and the 
 hen, 
 
 And when you know that you’ll know more than 
 some men. 
 
 “ Every bird that can scratch in the dirt can walk ; 
 Every bird that can wade in the water can walk; 
 Every bird that has claws to catch prey with can 
 walk; 
 
 One foot at a time—that is why they can walk. 
 
 * But most little birds that can sing you a song 
 Are so small that their legs are not very strong 
 To scratch with, or wade with, or catch things— 
 that’s why 
 
 They hop with both feet.* Little boy, good-bye. 
 
 —From Wide Azvake. 
 
 A BOY’S SERMON. 
 
 Let me preach you a little sermon, my fellow- 
 boys. You know it is easier to preach than to 
 practice, so I preach. My subject is, “ Examine 
 Yourself.” ist. Get away from a crowd a little 
 while every day. Stand to one side and let the 
 world run by while you get acquainted with your¬ 
 self and see what kind of a fellow you are. Ask 
 yourself hard questions about yourself. Find out 
 all you can about yourself. 2d. See if you are 
 really the kind of boy people say you are. Find 
 out if you are always honest ; if you always tell the 
 square truth. If your life is as good and upright 
 
 *The exceptions to the above rule are rare. The rule is generally 
 correct, and so simple as to be easily remembered. 
 
52 
 
 at eleven o clock at night, provided you are awake, 
 as it is at noon; if you are as sound a temperance 
 bov on a fishing excursion as you are in bunday- 
 school; if you are as good a boy when you go to 
 the city as you are at home; if, in short, you aie 
 the sort of a young man your father hopes you ai e , 
 your mother says you are; your sweetheart be¬ 
 lieves you are. 3d. Get on intimate terms with 
 yourself, my boy; and believe me, every time you 
 come out from these private interviews you will be 
 a stronger, better, and purer man. Finally, don t 
 forget this, and it will do you good. 
 
 THE BOYS WE NEED. 
 
 We need the boy who’s not afraid 
 To do his share of work; 
 
 Who never is by toil dismayed, 
 
 And never tries to shirk. 
 
 - The boy whose heart is brave to meet, 
 
 All lions in the way ; 
 
 Who’s not discouraged by defeat, 
 
 But tries another day. 
 
 The boy who always means to do 
 The very best he can ; 
 
 Who always keeps the right in view, 
 
 And aims to be a man. 
 
 Such boys as these will grow to be 
 The men whose hands will guide 
 
 The future of our land ; and we 
 • Shall speak their names with pride. 
 
 All honor to the boy who is 
 A man at heart, I say ; 
 
53 
 
 Whose legend on his shield is this : 
 
 “ Right always wins the day.” 
 
 —Golden Days. 
 
 THE LOSING BAG. 
 
 Little Harry Careless 
 
 Was always losing things— 
 
 Shoes and hats, and slates and books, 
 Pencils, marbles, strings— 
 
 ~ Till at last his mother 
 Took a faded flag, 
 
 (A great, enormous one it was) 
 
 And made of it a bag. 
 
 “Now my careless Harry,” 
 
 Said she, with a kiss, 
 
 “When you feel like losing things, 
 Pop them into this.” 
 
 “ That I will,” cried Harry, 
 
 Happy as a king ; 
 
 And since he’s had the losing bag 
 He’s never lost a thing. 
 
 —Harper s Young People. 
 
 HELPING. 
 
 (For very little boys and girls.) 
 
 ist— Planting the corn and potatoes, 
 
 2d— Helping to scatter the seeds, 
 
 3d— Feeding the hens and the chickens, 
 
 4th— Freeing the garden from weeds, 
 
 5th—- Driving the cows to the pasture, 
 
 6th— Feeding the horse in the stall; 
 
 All— We little children are busy, 
 
 Sure there is work for us all, 
 
 Helping papa. 
 
54 
 
 7th — 
 8th— 
 9th— 
 
 10th— 
 1 ith— 
 
 All— 
 
 12th— 
 13th— 
 14th— 
 15th— 
 16th— 
 17th— 
 All- 
 
 Boys— 
 Girls— 
 
 Boys— 
 Girls— 
 All- 
 
 Spreading the hay in the sunshine. 
 Raking it up when dry, 
 
 Picking the apples and peaches, 
 
 Down in the orchard hard by ; 
 
 Picking the grapes from the grape-vines 
 Gathering nuts in the fall; 
 
 We little children are busy, 
 
 Yes, there is work for us all, 
 
 Helping papa. 
 
 Sweeping, and washing the dishes, 
 Bringing wood from the shed, 
 
 Ironing, sewing, and knitting, 
 
 Helping to make up the bed, 
 
 Taking good care of the baby, 
 
 Watching her lest she should fall; 
 
 We little children are busy— 
 
 Oh, there is work for us all, 
 
 Helping mamma. 
 
 Work makes us cheerful and happy, 
 Makes us both active and strong. 
 
 Play we enjoy all the better, 
 
 When we have labored so long. 
 Gladly we help our kind parents, 
 Quickly we come at their call, 
 Children should love to be busy, 
 
 There is so much work for all, 
 Helping papa and mamma. 
 
 JOHNNY’S POCKET. 
 
 Do you know what’s in my pottet? 
 Such a lot of treasures in it! 
 Listen, now, while 1 bedin it; 
 Such a lot of sings it hold, 
 
 And all there is you sail be told. 
 
Everysin’ dat’s in my pottet, 
 
 And when, and where, and how I dot it. 
 
 First of all, here’s in my pottet 
 A beauty shell; I picked it up, 
 
 And here’s the handle of my cup 
 That somebody has broke at tea, 
 
 The shell’s a hole in it, you see, 
 Nobody knows that I have dot it, 
 
 I keep it safe here in my pottet. 
 
 And here’s my ball, too, in my pottet, 
 And here’s my pennies, one, two, three 
 That aunt Mary gave to me ; 
 To-morrow day I’ll buy a spade, 
 
 When I’m out walking with the maid. 
 
 I can’t put dat here in my pottet, 
 
 But 1 can use it when I’ve dot it. 
 
 Here’s some more sin’s in my pottet! 
 Here’s my lead, and here’s my string, 
 And once 1 had an iron ring, 
 
 But through a hole it lost one day ; 
 And here is what I always say— 
 
 A hole’s the worst sin’ in a pottet— 
 Have it mended when you’ve dot it. 
 
 TWO AND ONE. 
 
 Two ears and only one mouth have you : 
 The reason I think, is clear : 
 
 It teaches, my child, that it will not do 
 To talk about all you hear. 
 
 Tzvo eyes and only one mouth have you 
 The reason of this must be, 
 
 That you should learn that it will not do 
 To talk about all you see. 
 
Two hands and only one mouth have you : 
 And it is worth repeating,— 
 
 The two are for work you will have to do, 
 The one is enough for eating. 
 
 THE BUILDERS. 
 
 HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 
 
 All are architects of Fate, 
 
 Working in these walls of Time. 
 Some with massive deeds and great; 
 Some with ornaments of rhyme. 
 
 Nothing useless is, or low ; 
 
 Each thing in its place is best ; 
 
 And what seems but idle show, 
 Strengthens and supports the rest. 
 
 For the structure that we raise, 
 
 Time is with materials filled ; 
 
 Our to-days and yesterdays 
 Are the blocks with which we build. 
 
 Truly shape and,fashion these; 
 
 Leave no yawning gaps between ; 
 Think not, because no man sees, 
 
 Such things will remain unseen. 
 
 In the older days of art, 
 
 Builders wrought with greatest care 
 bach minute and unseen part; 
 
 Foi the gods see everywhere. 
 
 Let us do our work as well, 
 
 Both the unseen and the seen : 
 
 Make the house where gods may dwell, 
 Beautiful entire, and clean. 
 
57 
 
 Else our lives are incomplete, 
 
 Standing in these walls of Time, 
 Broken stairways, where the feet 
 Stumble as they seek to climb. 
 
 Build to-day then, strong and sure, 
 
 With a firm and ample base; 
 
 And ascending and secure 
 
 Shall to-morrow find its place. 
 
 Thus alone can we attain 
 
 To those turrets, where the eye 
 Sees the world as one vast plain, 
 
 And one boundless reach of sky. 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING. 
 
 LORD HOUGHTON. 
 
 A fair little girl sat under a tree, 
 
 Sewing, as long as her eyes could see; 
 
 Then she smoothed her work and folded it right, 
 And said, “ Dear work, good-night, good-night! 
 
 Such a number of rooks flew over her head, 
 Crying, “ Caw ! caw!” on their way to bed ; 
 
 She said, as she watched their curious flight, 
 
 “ Little black things, good-night, good night!” 
 
 The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, 
 
 The sheep’s bleat! bleat! came over the road, 
 
 All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, 
 
 “ Good little girl, good-night, good-night!” 
 
 She did not say to the sun, “ Good-night!” 
 Though she saw him there like a ball of light 
 For she knew he had God’s time to keep 
 All over the world, and never could sleep. 
 
58 
 
 The tall pine fox-glove bowed his head, 
 
 The violets curtsied and went to bed ; 
 
 And good little Lucy tied up her hair, 
 
 And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer. 
 
 And, while on her pillow she softly lay, 
 
 She knew nothing more, till again it was day ; 
 
 And all things said to the beautiful sun, 
 
 “ Good-morning ! good-morning! our work is be- 
 ! * > 
 
 gun ! 
 
 WHERE THE GYPSIES GO. 
 
 BY MRS. S. M. B. PIATT. 
 
 “ Mamma, the sun went down too soon ; 
 
 There are more things I want to hear.” 
 
 “ Look through the window. There’s the moon, 
 This is the time to dream, I fear.” 
 
 “ But tell me where the gypsies go 
 When there is snow.” 
 
 “ I’ve told you all I know.” “ But it 
 Is ever so little ! Tell me all 
 That other people know.” “ Come, sit 
 Here in the shelter of my shawl, 
 
 And let’s guess where the gypsies go 
 When there’s snow.” 
 
 “ I cannot guess.” “ Then how can I ? 
 
 I only know they vanish quite 
 When the dark leaves go blowing by, 
 
 Somewhere, or somewhere, out of sight.” 
 
 “ But tell me where the gypsies go 
 When there is snow.” 
 
 My child, these gypsies seem to me 
 Brown, grown up fairies, that belong 
 
59 
 
 Only to summer. It may be 
 
 They die out to some bird s last song 
 “ Please tell me where the gypsies go 
 When there is snow.” 
 
 “ Well there are barns with clover hay, 
 
 And’ lonesome lofts, where mice may creep ; 
 
 For all I know, the gypsies rnay 
 
 G-o—just where you should go—to sleep. 
 
 To sleep— that’s where the gypsies go 
 When there is snow.” 
 
 WHAT SANTA CLAUS THINKS. 
 
 Hi! another one! What’s the world about ? 
 
 Don’t these people know that I am most worn 
 
 out ? 
 
 Millions of ’em coming year by year; 
 
 Every youngster wretched if I don t appear. 
 
 First they want a rattle, then a ring to bite; 
 
 Then a box of sugar plums, then a doll 01 kite , 
 Next a story book to read, then a bat and ball, 
 Santa’s back is broad and strong, he must bring 
 them all. 
 
 Gratitude they talk about; not a bit for me. 
 
 First you know they get so wise, cry out “ Fiddle- 
 de-dee.” 
 
 No such chap as Santa Claus, can t deceive us so, 
 Never find a six inch sock hanging in the row. 
 
 Here’s this jolly little chap, scarcely here a week. 
 Don’t I know he rules the house, though he looks 
 so meek ? [too, 
 
 Both his eyelids shut up tight, mouth wide open, 
 S'pose he got a look at me, wonder what he d do ? 
 
 £ 
 
 A 
 
6o 
 
 Sleep away my little man, trouble comes with 
 years, 
 
 You are bound to get your share in this vale of 
 tears. 
 
 Rattle, is it? Well, all right! Yes, I’ve got my 
 pen, 
 
 Finish out your precious nap, and I’ll be round 
 again. 
 
 WHAT TO DO. 
 
 If the world seems cold to you, 
 Kindle fires to warm it. 
 
 Let their comfort hide from view 
 Winters that deform it. 
 
 Hearts as frozen as your own 
 To that radiance gather ; 
 
 You will soon forget to moan, 
 
 “ Ah ! the cheerless weather.” 
 
 “ WHEN I’M A MAN.” 
 
 JOHN S. ADAMS. 
 
 I’m a boy ’bout high as a table, 
 
 My hair is the color of flax ; 
 
 My name isn’t Shakespeare or Milton, 
 
 Or Byron, or Shelley, or Saxe. 
 
 By-and-by it will be “ Mr. Daniel,” 
 
 They all call me now “ Little Dan; ” 
 
 1 11 tell you in rhyme what I fancy 
 Will happen when I am a man. 
 
 1 11 have a big garden for peaches, 
 
 And cherries, and everything nice; 
 
 ” the cutest of fixings for rabbits, 
 
 And pigeons, and dogs and white mice. 
 
61 
 
 I’ll have a big house, and a stable; 
 
 And of horses the handsomest span 
 That ever you feasted your eyes on, 
 
 ’Tis likely, when I am a man. 
 
 A cane I will twirl in my fingers, 
 
 A watch-guard shall garnish my vest, 
 
 No fear of expense shall deter me, 
 
 My raiment shall be of the best. 
 
 A ring on my finger shall glisten, 
 
 And the cunningest, sleek black-and-tan 
 Shall trot at my heels as I travel, 
 
 I’m thinking, when I am a man. 
 
 No poisonous drinks will I swallow, 
 
 From foul smelling pipes I’ll be free, 
 
 My nose wasn’t made for a chimney, 
 
 No snuffing or chewing for me. 
 
 Now my soul I’ll possess with great patience, 
 And as well as a little boy can 
 I will set them a better example ; 
 
 Won’t I lecture them when I’m a man ? 
 
 I’m a boy, so there’s no use in talking; 
 
 People snub me as much as they please; 
 For the toes of my shoes are of copper, 
 
 And my stockings come over my knees. 
 I’ve told you the whole of my story, 
 
 As I promised to when I began ; 
 
 I’m young, but I’m daily a-growing, 
 
 Look out for me when I’m a man. 
 
 PATRIOTISM. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 Breathes there a man with soul so dead 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 
6 2 
 
 This is my own, my native land ! 
 
 Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned. 
 As home his footsteps he hath turned 
 From wandering on a foreign strand. 
 
 If such there breathe, go mark him well, 
 For him no minstrel raptures swell; 
 
 High though his title, proud his name, 
 Boundless his wealth as wish may claim; 
 Despite those titles, power and pelf, 
 
 The wretch concentered all in self, 
 
 Living shall forfeit fair renown, 
 
 And, doubly dying, shall go down 
 To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
 Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 
 
 WHAT IS THE BIBLE? 
 
 ’Tis a fountain ever flowing 
 Whence the weary may obtain 
 
 Water for the soul that’s thirsting, 
 And shall never thirst again. 
 
 ’Tis a lamp forever burning 
 By whose never dying light 
 
 Sinners from their errors turning, 
 
 Are directed in the right. 
 
 ’Tis a mine of richest treasure 
 Laden with the purest ore; 
 
 And its contents without measure 
 You can never well explore. 
 
 ’Tis a tree whose fruit unfailing 
 Cheers and stays the fainting soul; 
 
 And whose leaves the nations healing. 
 Carry joy from pole to pole. 
 
63 
 
 Tis a pearl of price exceeding 
 Every gem in ocean found ; 
 
 By its precept ever healing 
 
 You may learn where joys abound. 
 
 THE ANXIOUS MOTHER. 
 
 1 lent my dear dolly, and what do you think? 
 
 They gave her no victuals, they gave her no 
 drink. 
 
 They left her uncovered all night in the cold 
 My dear little dolly, not quite a year old. 
 
 Her color now faded; it rained where she lay- 
 She had for her pillow a wisp of wet hay. 
 
 To have her so treated, say, who would not 
 
 scold? 
 
 My own little Dolly, not quite a year old . 
 
 Now swallow it Dolly, this sweet little pill; 
 
 ’Twill cure you my darling, I know that it will. 
 We’ll no more be parted, for love or for gold, 
 
 My dear little Dolly, not quite a year old ! 
 
 BY-AND-BY. 
 
 There’s a little mischief-maker 
 That is stealing half our bliss, 
 Sketching pictures in a dream-land 
 That are never seen in this ; 
 
 Dashing from the lips the pleasure 
 Of the present, while we sigh ; 
 
 You may know this mischief-maker, 
 
 For his name is By-and-By. 
 
 When the calls of duty haunt us, 
 
 And the present seems to be 
 
6 4 
 
 All the time that ever mortals 
 Snatch from dark eternity. 
 
 Then a fairy hand seems painting 
 Pictures on a painted sky, 
 
 For a cunning little artist 
 Is the fairy, By-and-By. 
 
 “ By-and-By,” the wind is sighing, 
 
 “ By-and-By,” the heart replies, 
 
 But the phantom just above us 
 Ere we grasp it, ever flies; 
 
 List not to the idle charmer, 
 
 Scorn the very specious lie— 
 
 Do not believe or trust in 
 This deceiver, By-and-By. 
 
 ONLY. 
 
 Only a seed, but it chanced to fall 
 In a little cleft of a city wall, 
 
 And taking root, grew bravely up, 
 
 Till a tiny blossom crowned its top. 
 
 Only a flower, but it chanced that day 
 A burdened heart passed that way ; 
 
 And the message that through the flower was sent. 
 Brought the weary soul a sweet content. 
 
 For it spoke of the lilies, so wondrously clad ; 
 
 And the heart that was tired grew strangely glad 
 At the thought of a tender care overall, 
 
 That noted even a sparrow’s fall. 
 
 Only a thought, but the work it wrought 
 Could never by tongue or pen be taught; 
 
 For it ran through a life, like a thread of gold ; 
 And the life bore fruit, a hundred fold. 
 
6$ 
 
 On!)' a word, but ’twas spoken in love, 
 
 With a whispered prayer, to the Lord above. 
 And the angels in heaven rejoiced once more, ^ 
 For a new born soul “ entered in by the door. ’ 
 
 THE TRIPLE PLEDGE. 
 
 We will not buy, we will not make, 
 
 We will not use, we will not take 
 Wine, ale, or beer, rum, whisky, gin, 
 Because they lead mankind to sin. 
 
 We will not smoke, the smoker pets 
 Those little things called cigarettes. 
 
 We will not chew, we will not snuff, 
 
 Or waste our time in playing puff. 
 
 We will not curse, though many dare 
 Open their lips to curse and swear 
 Our words shall be both pure and plain 
 We will not take—that name in vain. 
 
 SOMETHING FOR CHILDREN TO DO. 
 
 There is something on earth for the children to do, 
 For the child that is trying to be 
 Like the One, who once murmured, in accents of 
 love, 
 
 Let the little ones come unto me. 
 
 There are sweet winning words to the weary and 
 sad, 
 
 By their glad loving lips to be said. 
 
 There are hearts that are waiting, by some little 
 hand, 
 
 Unto Jesus, the Lord, to be led. 
 
66 
 
 There are lessons to learn, both at home and at 
 school, 
 
 There are battles to fight for the right. 
 
 There’s a watch to be kept, over temper and 
 tongue, 
 
 And God’s loving help to be asked day and 
 night. 
 
 There are smiles to be given, kind deeds to be 
 done, 
 
 Gentle words to be dropped by the way ; 
 
 For the child that intends to be noble and good, 
 
 There is something to do every day. 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 When Eve brought woe 1o all mankind, 
 Old Adam called her Woeman; 
 
 But when she wooed with love so kind, 
 
 He then pronounced her wooman. 
 
 But now, with folly and with pride 
 Their husband's pockets trimmen, 
 
 The ladies are so full of whims, 
 
 That people call them whimmen! 
 
 ONLY _A WORD. 
 
 Only a word, yet how it brightened 
 The gloom of the darkening day. 
 
 Only a word, and lightly spoken. 
 
 And the speaker went his way. 
 
 \ et it took from a heart with sorrow laden 
 I he weight of its pressing care; 
 
 It opened a rift for the blue of heaven, 
 
 And a gleam of the suqshine fair. 
 
 Only a word, and lightly spoken/ 
 
6 / 
 
 And the speaker went his way, 
 
 But the peace of the heavenly benediction 
 Followed him that day. 
 
 GOOD WISHES. 
 
 “ A bright, a blessed Christmas 
 And a glad New Year be thine. 
 
 And may the Sun of Glory 
 Upon thy pathway shine ; 
 
 Each season show thee clearer 
 The path thy Saviour trod, 
 
 And each new Christmas find thee nearer 
 The Paradise of God.’’ 
 
 DOING GOOD. 
 
 I must do all the good I can 
 To all the people that I can, 
 
 In all the ways that I can, 
 
 And as long as ever I can. 
 
 I need not wait till I am a man 
 But begin just now, as soon as I can 
 To say all the kind little words that I know, 
 And do kind deeds wherever I go. 
 
 So working, and growing, as fast as I can, 
 In time I’ll be a useful and noble man. 
 
 DO THY LITTLE. 
 
 Do thy little, and do it well; 
 
 Do what right and reason tell ; 
 
 Do what wrong and sorrow claim, 
 Conquer sin and cover shame. 
 
 Do thy little, though it be 
 Dreariness and drudgery ; 
 
 5 
 
They whom Christ apostles made 
 Gathered fragments when He bade. 
 
 Do thy little, never fear 
 While thy helper standeth near. 
 
 Let the world its pebbles throw, 
 
 On thy way undaunted go. 
 
 FARMERS’ BOYS. 
 
 Out in every tempest, 
 
 Out in every gale, 
 
 Buffeting the weather, 
 
 Wind, storm, and hail; 
 
 In the meadow mowing 
 Where the old oak stood; 
 
 Every flitting moment 
 
 Each skillful hand employs; 
 
 Bless me ! were there ever 
 Idle farmers’ boys? 
 
 FARMERS’ GIRLS. 
 
 Up in the early morning 
 Just at peep of day, 
 
 Straining the milk in the dairy, 
 Turning the cows away ; 
 
 Sweeping the floor in the kitchen, 
 Making the beds upstairs, 
 
 Washing the breakfast dishes, 
 Dusting the parlor chairs. 
 
 Brushing the crumbs from the pantry, 
 Hunting for eggs in the barn, 
 
 Roasting the meat for dinner, 
 Spinning the stocking yarn. 
 
 Spreading the snow white linen 
 

 69 
 
 Down on the bushes below, 
 
 Ransacking every meadow 
 
 Where wild strawberries grow. 
 
 Starching their “fixins” for Sunday, 
 Churning their golden cream, 
 
 Rinsing the pails and strainer 
 Down in the running stream. 
 
 Feeding the geese and poultry. 
 
 Making puddings and pies, 
 
 Jogging the little one’s cradle, 
 
 Driving away the flies. 
 
 Grace in every motion, 
 
 Music in everv tone; 
 
 Beauty of form and feature 
 
 Thousands might covet to own. 
 
 Cheeks that rival the roses, 
 
 Teeth the whiteness of pearls. 
 
 One of these country maids is worth 
 A score of your city girls. 
 
 BOYS MAKE MEN. 
 
 When you see a ragged urchin 
 Standing wistful in the street, 
 
 With torn hat and kneeless trowsers, 
 
 Dirty face and bare red feet; 
 
 Pass not by that child unheeding ; 
 
 Smile upon him. Mark me when 
 He’s grown old he’ll not forget it, 
 
 For remember, boys make men. 
 
 Have you never seen a grandsire 
 With his eyes aglow with joy, 
 
 Bring to mind some act of kindness, 
 Something said to him a boy. 
 
 / 
 
 mmmmma 
 
 m 
 
70 
 
 Or relate some slight or coldness 
 With a brow all clouded, when 
 He recalled some heart too thoughtless 
 To remember boys make men. 
 
 Let us try to add some pleasure 
 To the life of every boy; 
 
 Show each child tender interest 
 In its sorrows and its joy. 
 
 Call your boys home by its brightness, 
 They avoid the household when 
 It is cheerless with unkindness; 
 
 For remember, boys make men. 
 
 A LITTLE BOY’S THOUGHTS. 
 
 I thought when I had learned my letters 
 That all my troubles were o’er; 
 
 But I find myself mistaken; 
 
 They have only just begun. 
 
 Learning to read was awful, 
 
 But nothing like learning to write. 
 
 I’d be sorry to have you know it— 
 
 But my copy book is a sight! 
 
 The ink gets over my fingers, 
 
 The pen cuts all sorts of shines, 
 
 And won’t do at all as I bid it, 
 
 The letters won’t stay on the lines, 
 
 But go up and down all over 
 
 As though they were dancing a jig ; 
 They are there in all shapes and sizes— 
 Medium, little and big. 
 
 The tails of the g’s are so contrary, 
 
 The handles get on the wrong side 
 Of the d’s and q’s and the h’s, 
 
7i 
 
 Though I’ve certainly tried, and tried 
 To make them look just right. It is dreadful! 
 
 I really don’t know what to do; 
 
 I’m getting almost distracted— 
 
 My teacher says she is, too. 
 
 There’d be some comfort in learning 
 If one could get through ; instead 
 Of that, there are books waiting 
 Quite enough to craze my head. 
 
 There’s the multiplication table, 
 
 And grammar, and oh ! dear me ! 
 
 There’s no good place for stopping 
 When one has begun, I see. 
 
 My teacher says, little by little 
 To the mountain-tops we climb ; 
 
 It isn’t all done in a minute, 
 
 But only a step at a time. 
 
 She says that all the scholars, 
 
 All the wise and learned men, 
 
 Had each to begin as I do;— 
 
 If that’s so, where’s my pen? 
 
 THEY SAY. 
 
 “ They say,” ah well; suppose they do. 
 But can they prove the story true? 
 Suspicions may arise from naught 
 But malice, envy, want of thought ; 
 
 Why count yourself among the “they,” 
 Who whisper what they dare not say ? 
 
 They say, but why the tale rehearse 
 And help to make the matter worse ? 
 
 No good can possibly accrue 
 From telling what may be untrue; 
 
And is it not a better plan 
 To speak of all the best you can ? 
 
 They say ! well, if it should be true, 
 
 Why need you tell the tale of woe ? 
 
 Will it the bitter wrong redress, 
 
 Or make one pang of sorrow less? 
 
 Will that the erring one restore 
 Henceforth, to “ go and sin no more ” ? 
 
 They say ! Oh ! pause and look within, 
 See how the heart inclines to sin. 
 
 Watch ! lest in dark temptation’s hour, 
 Thou too, should sink beneath its power. 
 Pity the frail—weep o’er the fall; 
 
 But speak the good, or not at all. 
 
 THE MOTHER HUBBARD. 
 
 “ Old Mother Hubbard, 
 
 She went to the cupboard, 
 
 To get her poor dog a bone; 
 
 But when she got there 
 The cupboard was bare 
 And so the poor dog got none.” 
 
 To get him some meat 
 She went down the street 
 And hastily entered the town ; 
 
 She was in such a hurry 
 She forgot in her worry 
 
 To take off her fancy bed-gown. 
 
 Some ladies were passing, 
 
 And instantly classing 
 That gown as the very last fashion, 
 Determined to don it, 
 
73 
 
 And with a new bonnet 
 
 They’d set other ladies’ teeth gnashing. 
 
 So now, though not pretty, 
 
 You’ll find in each city 
 No lady of fashion without it; 
 
 But the babies look cute 
 In the quaint little suit, 
 
 I’m sure there will nobody doubt it. 
 
 WHAT ARE NEWSPAPERS? WHAT DO 
 
 THEY CONTAIN? 
 
 Organs that gentlemen play, my boy, 
 
 To answer the taste of the day, 
 
 Whatever it may be, they hit the key 
 And pipe in full concert way. 
 
 News from all countries and climes, my boy, 
 Advertisements, essays and rhymes, 
 
 Mixed up with all sorts of lying reports, 
 
 And published at regular times. 
 
 Articles able and wise, my boy, 
 
 At least in the editor’s eyes, 
 
 With logic so grand that few understand 
 To what in the world it applies. 
 
 Lists of all physical ills, my boy, 
 
 Cured by somebody’s pills, 
 
 Till you ask with surprise why any one dies 
 And what’s the disorder that kills. 
 
 Prices of cattle and grain, my boy, 
 
 Directions to dig and to drain, 
 
 But it would take me too long to tell in my song 
 A quarter of all they contain. 
 
74 
 
 THE STOLEN CUSTARD. 
 
 Sugar-toothed Dick 
 For dainties was sick, 
 
 So he slily stole into the kitchen, 
 
 Snatched a cup from the pantry, 
 
 And darted out quick, 
 
 Unnoticed by mother or Gretchen. 
 
 Whispered he, “ There’s no cake, 
 
 For to-morrow they bake, 
 
 But this custard looks rich and delicious; 
 How they’ll scold at the rats, 
 
 Or the mice or the cats; 
 
 For of me, I don’t think they’re suspicious. 
 
 “ They might have filled up 
 Such a mean little cup ! 
 
 And for want of a spoon, I must drink it. 
 
 But ’tis easy to pour— 
 
 Hark! who’s that at the door?'’ 
 
 And the custard went down ere you’d think it. 
 
 With a shriek he sprang up, 
 
 To the floor dashed the cup; 
 
 Then he howled and tumbled, and blustered, 
 Till the terrible din 
 Brought the household in, 
 
 He had swallowed a cupful of mustard ! 
 
 SHUT THE DOOR. 
 
 Don’t let the door stand open, but close it with 
 much care, 
 
 Without a bang, without a whang, yes, shut it fair 
 and square; 
 
 Without a slam, without a jam, without a slat, or 
 jerk, 
 
75 
 
 For if you’ve left it open, go shut it, and don t shii k. 
 
 No Christian man or woman, or well trained chick 
 or child 
 
 Will let a door swing idle, to make weak nerves 
 run wild ; 
 
 When chilly winds are blowing, and some one’s 
 taking cold. 
 
 And the open door is squeaking, and muttering 
 like a scold. 
 
 Haste makes but waote, remember, so plenty take 
 of time, 
 
 Don’t leave the door half open, a fault almost a 
 crime. 
 
 And if you’ve ever done this, don’t do so any more, 
 
 Whatever else you fail to do, don t fail to shut the 
 door! 
 
 WHEN SANTA CLAUS COMES. 
 
 A good time is coming, I wish it were here; 
 
 The very best time in the whole of the year. 
 
 I’m counting each day on my fingers and thumbs 
 
 The hours that must pass before Santa Claus comes. 
 
 Good-bye for a while, then, to lessons and school; 
 
 We can talk, laugh, and sing, without breaking the 
 rule. 
 
 No troublesome spellers, no writing, nor sums, 
 
 There’s nothing but playtime, when Santa Claus 
 comes. 
 
 I suppose I shall have a new dolly, of course, 
 
 My last one was killed by a fall from her horse ; 
 
 While for Harry and Jack, there’ll be trumpets and 
 dru ms,- 
 
 To deafen us with when Santa Claus comes. 
 
7 6 
 
 I’ll hang up my stocking to hold what he brings; 
 
 I hope he will fill it with lots of good things; 
 
 He must know how dearly I love sugar plums, 
 
 I’d like a big box full, when Santa Claus comes. 
 
 And now that the snowflakes begin to come down 
 And the wind whistles sharp, and the branches are 
 brown, 
 
 I don’t mind the cold, though my fingers it numbs, 
 ’Cause it brings the time nearer when Santa Claus 
 comes. 
 
 MOONSTRUCK. 
 
 The young moon lies in the old moon’s arms 
 You can see it plain as can be; 
 
 Venus has gone with all her charms, 
 
 But Jupiter stares at the baby. 
 
 The old Moon rocks in the clear blue skies, 
 She is rocking an hour old baby; 
 
 The stars are a-winking with all their eyes, 
 And wonder whatever it may be. 
 
 In a month that baby a babe will hold, 
 
 And croon to the young its A, B. 
 
 For a Moon’s whole life is but four weeks old, 
 And then ’tis again a baby. 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 Rake up the glowing cinders, 
 
 Pile on the crackling coal, 
 
 Jack Frost’s come with his pincers, 
 Straight from the cold North Pole. 
 
 Hark! how the pelting raindrops 
 Rattle on roof and pane. 
 
77 
 
 Here we are warm and cosy, 
 
 Proof against wind and rain. 
 
 Roast nuts, sweet and tender, 
 
 Pop corn crisp and white, 
 
 Apples baked in the embers 
 Jolly good times to-night! 
 
 THE BABY’S STOCKING. 
 
 Hang up the baby’s stocking, 
 
 Be sure you don’t forget; 
 
 The dear little dimpled darling, 
 
 She ne’er saw Christmas yet. 
 
 But r ve told her all about it 
 And she opened her blue eyes; 
 
 And I’m sure she understands it, 
 
 She looks so funny and wise. 
 
 Dear! what a tiny stocking, 
 
 It doesn’t take much to hold 
 Such little pink toes as baby’s 
 Away from the frost and cold. 
 
 But then for the baby’s Christmas 
 It will never do at all; 
 
 Why, Santa Claus wouldn’t be looking 
 For anything half so small. 
 
 I know what we’ll do for the baby, 
 
 I’ve thought of the very best plan, 
 
 I’ll borrow a stocking from Grandma 
 The largest I ever can; 
 
 And you’ll hang it by mine, dear mother, 
 Right here in the corner, so, 
 
 And write a letter to Santa Claus 
 And fasten it on the toe. 
 
Write, “This is the baby’s stocking 
 That hangs in the corner here, 
 
 You have never seen her, Santa, 
 
 For she only came this year; 
 
 But she’s the blessedest baby! 
 
 And now before you go, 
 
 Just cram her stocking with goodies 
 From the top clean down to the toe.” 
 
 THE DEAD DOLLY. 
 
 MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. 
 
 You needn’t be trying to comfort me, 
 
 I tell you my Dolly is dead! 
 
 There’s no use in saying she isn’t 
 With a crack like that in her head. 
 
 It’s just like you said it wouldn’t hurt much 
 To have my tooth out that day, 
 
 And then when the man most pulled my 
 head off 
 
 You hadn’t a word to say. 
 
 And I guess you must think I’m a baby 
 When you say you can mend it with glue, 
 As if I didn’t know better than that; 
 
 Why, just suppose it was you ! 
 
 Y ou might make her look all mended, 
 
 But what do I care for looks? 
 
 Why, glue is for chairs, and tables, 
 
 And toys, and the backs of books. 
 
 Oh Dolly, my own little daughter, 
 
 O ! but it is the awfullest crack! 
 
 It just makes me sick to think of the sound 
 When her poor little head went whack 
 Against that horrible brass thing, 
 
79 
 
 That holds up the little shelf. 
 
 Now Nursey, what makes you remind me? 
 I know that I done it myself. 
 
 I think you must be crazy; 
 
 You’ll get her another head ! 
 
 What good would forty heads do her? 
 
 1 tell you my Dolly is dead! 
 
 And to think I hadn’t quite finished 
 Her elegant new spring hat, 
 
 And I took a sweet ribbon of hers last night 
 To tie on that horrid cat. 
 
 When my mamma gave me that ribbon, 
 
 I was playing out in the yard, 
 
 And she said to me most expressly,^ 
 
 “ Here’s a ribbon for Hildegarde.” 
 
 And I went and put it on Tabby 
 And Hildegarde saw me do it, 
 
 But 1 said to myself, “ Oh, never mind, 
 
 I don’t believe she knew it.” 
 
 But I know that she knew it, now, 
 
 And just believe, I do— 
 
 That her poor little heart was broken, 
 
 And so her head broke too. 
 
 Oh my baby ! my dear little baby ! 
 
 I wish my head had been hit— 
 
 For I’ve hit it over and over again 
 And it hasn’t cracked a bit. 
 
 But since the darling is dead 
 
 She’ll want to be buried of course. 
 
 We will take my little wagon, Nurse, 
 
 And you shall be my horse. 
 knd I will walk behind and cry, 
 
 And we’ll put her in this, you see, 
 
This dear little box, and we’ll bury her then 
 Under the apple tree. 
 
 And papa will make me a tombstone 
 Like the one he made for my bird, 
 
 And he’ll put what I tell him on it, 
 
 Yes, every single word. 
 
 I shall say, “ Here lies Hildegarde, 
 
 A beautiful doll, who is dead. 
 
 She died of a broken heart, 
 
 And a dreadful crack in her head.” 
 
 BABY KANGAROO. 
 
 KATE BREARLY FORD. 
 
 Queer little baby kangaroo 
 Has nothing else in the world to do 
 But, cuddled away, 
 
 To sleep all day— 
 
 I should get tired ; wouldn’t you ? 
 
 And where does mamma kangaroo 
 Keep her baby the whole day through 
 In a queer little nest 
 On her own warm breast— 
 
 We can hardly believe it; but ’tis true. 
 
 She jumps along while he is asleep, 
 
 And eats the grass like a woolly sheep 
 And by and by 
 We’ll see him try 
 Out of his hiding-place to creep. 
 
 Late and early, early and late, 
 
 He’s out of sight; but if we wait, 
 
 This odd little chap 
 
We may see, mayhap, 
 
 For he’s growing at a wondrous rate. 
 
 And now he tries a nibble or two, 
 
 And wonders how a kangaroo 
 Would really feel 
 If he should steal 
 
 Quite away from the snug place where he 
 grew. 
 
 Queer little baby kangaroo ! 
 
 What would he think now. if he knew 
 That, by and by 
 He would stand so high 
 As almost to frighten himself and you ? 
 
 THE WIND. 
 
 E. C. STEDMAN. 
 
 Which is the wind that brings the cold ? 
 
 The north wind, Freddy, and all the snow ; 
 And the sheep will scamper into the fold, 
 
 When the North begins to blow. 
 
 Which is the wind that brings the heat? 
 
 The south wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, 
 And cherries redden for you to eat, 
 
 When the South begins to blow. 
 
 Which is the wind that brings the rain ? 
 
 The east wind, Tommy; and farmers know 
 That cows come shivering up the lane, 
 
 When the East begins to blow. 
 
 Which is the wind that brings the flowers? 
 
 The west wind, Bessie; and soft and low 
 
The birdies sing in the summer hours, 
 
 When the West begins to blow. 
 
 THE QUEER SCHOLARS. 
 
 The sun was shining softly, 
 
 The day was calm and cool, 
 
 When forty-five frog scholars met 
 Down by a shady pool— 
 
 For little frogs, like little folk, 
 
 Are always sent to school. 
 
 The master, perched upon a stone, 
 Besought them to be quick 
 
 In answering his questions. 
 
 Or else (his voice was thick) 
 
 They knew well what would happen, 
 
 He pointed to his stick. 
 
 Their lessons seemed the strangest things, 
 They learnt that grapes were sour; 
 
 They said that four and twenty days 
 Exactly made an hour; 
 
 That bricks were made of houses, 
 
 And corn was made of flour. 
 
 That six times one was ninety-five, 
 
 And “ yes ” meant “ no ” or “ nay.” 
 
 They always spent “ to-morrow ” 
 
 Before they spent “ to-day,” 
 
 Whilst each commenced the alphabet 
 With “z” instead of “a!” 
 
 As soon as school was over 
 The master said, “ No noise ! 
 
 Now go and play at leap-frog,” 
 
 (The game a frog enjoys). 
 
83 
 
 
 “ And mind that you behave yourselves, 
 
 And don't throw stones at boys! ” 
 
 WHEN THE WORLD WILL END. 
 
 When lawyers fail to take a fee 
 And juries never disagree ; 
 
 When politicians are content, 
 
 And landlords don’t collect their rent ; 
 When parties smash all the machines, 
 And Boston folks give up their beans ; 
 When naughty children all die young, 
 And girls are born without a tongue ; 
 When ladies don’t take time to shop, 
 And office-holders never flop ; 
 
 When preachers cut their sermons short, 
 And all folks to the church resort; 
 
 When back subscribers all have paid, 
 And editors have fortunes made ; 
 
 Such happiness will sure portend 
 This world must soon come to an end. 
 
 THAT DREADFUL BOY. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 I’m looking for a dreadful boy, 
 
 Does anybody know ’im ? 
 
 Who’s leading all the other boys 
 The way they shouldn’t go in. 
 
 I think if I could find that boy 
 I’d stop what he is doin’— 
 A-bringing all the other boys 
 To certain mortal ruin. 
 
 There’s Tommy Green, a growing lad, 
 His mother has informed me 
 
 
The way that he is getting bad 
 Would certainly alarm me. 
 
 She feels the blame should rest upon 
 John Brown—a recent comer 
 For Tommy was a lovely child 
 A year ago this summer. 
 
 But when I spoke to Mrs. Brown 
 Her inmost soul was shaken, 
 
 To think that Mrs. Green should be 
 So very much mistaken; 
 
 She did assure me Johnny was 
 As good a child as any, 
 
 Except for learning naughty things 
 From Mrs. Whiting’s Benny. 
 
 And Mrs. Whiting frets because 
 Of Mrs. Blackham’s Freddy ; 
 
 She fears he taught young Benjamin 
 Some wicked tricks already 
 Yet Fred is such an innocent, 
 
 (I have it from his mother) 
 
 He wouldn’t think of doing wrong, 
 Untempted by another. 
 
 O, when I think I’ve found the boy 
 Whose ways are so disgracin’, 
 
 I always learn he’s some one else, 
 And lives some other place in. 
 And if we cannot search him out, 
 
 He will (most dreadful pity !) 
 Spoil all the boys who otherwise 
 Would ornament the city. 
 
 RATTLE OF THE BONES. 
 
 flow many bones in the human face? 
 
 Fourteen, when they’re all in place. 
 
85 
 
 How many bones in the human head ? 
 
 Eight, my child, as I’ve often said. 
 
 How many bones in the human ear? 
 
 Three in each, and they help to hear. 
 
 How many bones in the human spine? 
 Twenty-six, like a climbing vine. 
 
 How many bones in the human chest? 
 Twenty-four ribs, and two of the rest. 
 
 How many bones the shoulders bind? 
 
 Two in each—one before, one behind. 
 
 How many bones in the human arm ? 
 
 In each arm one; two in each forearm. 
 
 How many bones in the human wrist ? 
 
 Eight in each if none are missed. 
 
 How many bones in the palm of the hand ? 
 Five in each, with many a band. 
 
 How many bones in the fingers ten ? 
 Twenty-eight, and by joints they bend. 
 
 How many bones in the human hip ? 
 
 One in each ; like a fish they dip. 
 
 How many bones in the human thigh ? 
 
 One in each, and deep they lie. 
 
 How many bones in the human knees? 
 
 One in each, the kneepan, please. 
 
 How many bones in the leg from the knee? 
 Two in each we can plainly see. 
 
86 
 
 How many bones in the ankle strong? 
 Seven in each, but none are long. 
 
 How many bones in the ball of the foot ? 
 Five in each as the palms are put. 
 
 How many bones in the toes half a score ? 
 Twenty-eight, and there are no more. 
 
 And now, altogether, these many bones fix, 
 \nd they count, in a body, two hundred and 
 six. 
 
 And then we have, in the human mouth 
 Of upper and under, thirty-two teeth. 
 
 And now and then have a bone, I should 
 think, 
 
 That forms on a joint, or to fill up a chink. 
 
 A Sesamoid bone, or a Wormian, we call, 
 And now we may rest, for we’ve told them 
 all. 
 
 —Indianapolis Sentinel. 
 
 EXAMINATIONS. 
 
 BY W. M. G. 
 
 (At the end of each verse the reciter draws a deep sigh and ex¬ 
 claims, “ Examinations!”) 
 
 The othef night I went to bed, 
 
 But not to sleep, for my poor head 
 Was filled with a most awful dread, 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 I thought of this, and then of that; 
 
s; 
 
 Of set and sit; which goes with sat ? 
 
 I fear my brain has run to fat. 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 Next came the base and rate per cent., 
 
 Of money to an agent sent, 
 
 And with that word all of them went, 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 Then my lessons I try to spell; 
 
 Which words have two, and which one L? 
 Oh, my poor brain! I cannot tell. 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 Where is Cape Cod, and where Pekin ? 
 Where do the rivers all begin ? 
 
 A high per cent. I cannot win. 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 Who was John Smith? What did he do ? 
 And all the other fellows, too ? 
 
 You must tell me, I can’t tell you. 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 Oh, welcome sleep ! at last it came ; 
 
 But not to rest me, all the same ; 
 
 For in my dreams this is my bane— 
 
 Examinations! 
 
 ANOTHER SPIDER AND FLY. 
 
 LAURA GARLAND CARR. 
 
 “ Come try my new swing ! ” said a cunning old 
 spider, 
 
 As she fastened a thread round a columbine stalk, 
 
ss 
 
 To a trim little fly that lit down beside her 
 To brush off the dust while they had a short talk. 
 
 “ See this now ! I touched with my foot that tall 
 aster! 
 
 Now back—there I jostled that lovely sweet pea! 
 O such jolly lun ! see I go fast and faster ! 
 
 Hop in, little neighbor, there’s room here by me !” 
 
 “ It can’t be so nice as to fly,” he made answer, 
 While thoughtfully stroking his fair gauzy wings. 
 “Poh! flies! I’ve had them! They are nice, but 
 my land, sir! 
 
 You can’t till you try, know the pleasure of 
 swings.” 
 
 The spider and swing—they went faster and higher; 
 The blossoms they nodded and all things looked 
 gay, 
 
 And our charmed little fly soon lost all desire 
 Save just once to swing in that rollicking way. 
 
 - He’ll come now, I know,” said the cunning old 
 spinner, [of sight. 
 
 And her cruel eyes gleamed as she danced out 
 Then looking back slily she thought of the dinner 
 That plump fly would make when she had him 
 all tight. 
 
 M She’s gone ! ” thought the fly. “ Now I guess I 
 will try it.” 
 
 And all in a flutter he hurried right in. 
 
 “ Nice, isn’t it, dear ? Now don’t you deny it! ” 
 And the spider sprang out with a horrible grin. 
 
 Whew! swoop comes a swallow ! he seizes the 
 derider, 
 
 And off to his nest in the barn roof has flown; 
 So now little silver wings laughs at the spider, 
 And swings if he pleases, or lets it alone. 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 HOW TO BECOME A GOOD READER AND SPEAKER. 
 
 W ERE all to realize the importance, the effect, a 
 degree of elocutionary ability has upon the 
 welfare in life of either a man or a woman, there would 
 be less neglect of the study of elocution in the schools, 
 and pupils, themselves, would be eager to excel in 
 this branch of a wise education. But, throughout a 
 great portion of the country, the art of reading and 
 speaking well has been looked upon as something 
 rather ornamental than useful, and where elocution has 
 been taught effectively at all, it has been where an 
 occasional instructor, wiser than the average, has 
 practically forced it into the course of training. Fortu¬ 
 nately, a change of sentiment is already manifesting 
 itself. 
 
 The subject of elocution is confessedly an all 
 important one to the American people—the love 
 of Oratory is inherent in Americans—they have 
 felt its influence as no other people have, and 
 realize the part it has performed in the formation and 
 character of the Republic. Prof. Whitman has well 
 said that “it was oratory that made us a free and in¬ 
 dependent people, oratory that determined the qual- 
 
 89 
 
90 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 ity of man, oratory that settled all the important questions 
 of the past, and oratory that must mark the future weal or 
 woe of the American nation—a nation which, it is no exag¬ 
 geration to say—excells all others in the splendor of her 
 renown, ‘ even as one star excelleth another star in glory.’ ” 
 
 Hon. Frank Gilbert in his Introduction 
 to Prof. Whitman’s book, says: « In no 
 other country have orators and oratory 
 played so important a part in shaping 
 public affairs as in this country, the rea¬ 
 son is, that nowhere else has free speech 
 been enjoyed with absolute thoroughness. 
 Every other land either is, or has been 
 cursed by a despotism which dared not 
 give reign to the tongue. Oratory can¬ 
 not flourish under tyranny.”—The oratory 
 of this Republic is one of the great treasures of literature. 
 
 Our Republican institutions are of such a character as 
 to call for and encourage a practice of not only impromptu, 
 and well finished and studied oratory, but a demand for 
 good elocutionists, capable of instituting an intelligent 
 inquiry into the meaning of an author; 
 and, having obtained it, that it may be 
 conveyed not only correctly, but with 
 force, beauty, variety and effect, requiring 
 the speaker to impress the exact lineaments 
 of natuie upon his sentiments, such indeed, 
 is the imperative demand for the services 
 of elocutionists of every class, that excel¬ 
 lence in the art is a sure road to financial 
 remuneration as well as civil and political 
 preferment. 
 
 Flff ‘ a * 
 
 c general inaptitude to extemporaneous addresses of 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 91 
 
 our citizens is conclusive proof that there is a lamentable 
 deficiency somewhere in their early training. That some 
 are gifted beyond others in the matter of oratory cannot be 
 denied, and that the great majority of our people need 
 
 nothing but proper training in 
 the season of their youth to 
 fit them the better to enter 
 this department of public life, 
 is equally undeniable. The 
 low state of elocution in this 
 country proceeds chiefly from 
 Fi &- 3- the defective method adopted 
 
 in teaching it in our public institutions. Though it is grati¬ 
 fying to know that elocution is beginning to secure a 
 portion of attention, corresponding, in some degree, with its 
 importance, but still it is too 
 much neglected, not only by the 
 community in general, but even 
 by public speakers and teachers 
 of youth. 
 
 Elocution in our schools should 
 rank in consideration with the 
 more important branches of geog¬ 
 raphy, grammar and arithmetic. The teacher must him¬ 
 self be a good reader, otherwise his 
 scholars cannot become so; he should 
 continually practice the scholars in 
 declamation and drill them in the 
 principles of elocution. It is unrea¬ 
 sonable to expect the school-boy to 
 Fig. 5- analyze the works of the great and 
 
 unrivalled delineators of human character; the true mean¬ 
 ing of the authors must be taught him by his instructor^ 
 26 
 
92 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 and his voice trained to fullness and power, and stately 
 elegance. If our youth be accustomed from their early 
 scholastic life to address audiences even of their 
 own school companions and acquaintances, much will be 
 accomplished toward preparing 
 them for proficiency in reading 
 and speaking. 
 
 The prime qualifications for an 
 orator or reader are a pure and 
 cultivated voice, and a correct and 
 elegant articulation. The different 
 intonations, cadences and inflections 6. 
 
 of the human voice are to be acquired only by indefatigable 
 study and practical effort, and the most assiduous and strict 
 attention under the guidance and instruction of a teacher, 
 competent and qualified to unfold the various beauties, ren¬ 
 dering them and the science with which they 
 are connected, equally beneficial and interesting 
 to the man of business, the student, the states¬ 
 man and the divine. The remarks of Sheridan 
 in his lectures on the “Art of Reading” are as 
 true of our own country as of England : “ I 
 
 appeal to the experience of mankind, whether 
 in general anything else be taught, but the pro¬ 
 nunciation of words, and the observations of 
 the stops; we are taught to deliver our exercises 
 or the words of others with little or no varia¬ 
 tion of voice, or els;* with some disagreeable, 
 discordant cant applied to all sentences alike.” 
 
 Dr. Channing, the literary and philosophical essayist, 
 in a discourse delivered as long ago as 1836, on this sub¬ 
 ject clearly shows, that elocution is calculated to elevate the 
 Standard of morality, and moreover, sets forth, most hap- 
 
■LOCUTION • 93 
 
 pily, its superiority over the drama. He says: “A people 
 
 by furnishing the means to innocent ones. 
 There is an amusement, having an affinity 
 with the drama, which might be usefully in¬ 
 troduced among us—I mean elocution. A 
 work of genius, recited by a man of fine taste, 
 
 waked up to their excellence and power. It 
 is not easy to conceive of a more effectual way 
 
 Fig. 8. of spreading a refined taste through a com¬ 
 munity. The drama undoubtedly appeals more strongly 
 
 latter brings out the meaning of the^ ^ 
 author more. Shakespeare well re- 
 cited, would be better understood than on the 
 stage. Then in recitation, we escape the 
 weariness of listening to poor performers, who, 
 
 Recitation, sufficiently varied, so as to include 
 pieces of chaste wit, as well as of pathos, beauty 
 
 lectual progress, as much as the drama falls if Ml 
 below it.” 
 
 Elocution, it must be borne in mind, includes Fi £- 9- 
 reading and conversation, as well as public speaking, 
 and is a matter of nearly as much interest to ladies as to 
 gentlemen, as the greater portion of the time of ladies is 
 employed in conversation and reading; to be able to read 
 and converse well is therefore a very desirable attainment, 
 
 i 
 
 
94 elocution. 
 
 The following extract from Mrs. Sigourney’s excellent 
 “ Letters to Young Ladies,” is commended to their perusal: 
 ** Reading aloud, with propriety and grace, is an accom¬ 
 plishment worthy of the acquisition of females. To enter 
 
 into the spiiit of the author, and convey 
 his sentiments with a happy adaptation of 
 tone, emphasis and manner, is no common 
 attainment. It is peculiarly valuable in 
 oui sex, because it so often gives them an 
 opportunity of imparting pleasure and 
 improvement to an assembled family, dur¬ 
 ing the winter evening, or the protracted 
 storm. In the zeal for female accomplish¬ 
 ments it would seem that the graces of 
 elocution had been too little, regarded. 
 Permit me to fortify my opinion by the 
 authority of Rev. Mr. Galludet: ‘ I cannot 
 understand why it should be thought, as 
 it sometimes is, a departure from female 
 delicacy, to read in a promiscuous social 
 ciicle, if called upon to do so, from any 
 peculiar circumstance, and to read, too, as 
 well as Ganick himself. If the young 
 lady possesses the power of doing it, why 
 may she not do this, with as much genuine modesty and 
 with as much of a desire to oblige her friends and with as 
 little of ostentation, as to sit down in the same circle, to the 
 piano, and play and sing in the style of the first masters? 
 If to do the former is making too much of a display of her 
 talents, why should not the latter be so? Nothing but 
 some strange freak of fashion, can have made a difference; 
 fine reading is an accomplishment where the inherent 
 music, both of the voice and intellect, may be uttered, for 
 
JtLOCUTIOPT. 
 
 95 
 
 the scope and compass of each is often fully taxed and 
 happily developed, in the interpretation of delicate shades of 
 meaning and gradations of thought.’ ” The beneficial effects 
 
 of vocal gymnastics, judiciously conducted, 
 upon health, are not yet fully appreciated. 
 The following on this subject from the pen 
 of Dr. Combe, is worthy of attention: 
 
 “ Reading aloud and recitation are 
 more useful and invigorating muscular 
 exercises, than is generally imagined. In 
 forming and undulating the voice, 
 the chest and the diaphragm are in 
 constant action, and communicate to 
 the stomach a healthy and agreeable 
 stimulus; and, consequently, where the 
 voice is raised and elocution rapid, as in 
 many kinds of public speaking, the mus¬ 
 cular effort is more fatiguing than the men¬ 
 tal, especially to those who are unaccus¬ 
 tomed to it. 
 
 “ When care is taken, however, not to 
 carry reading aloud or reciting so far at 
 Fig. ii.— dislike. one time, as to excite the least sensation of 
 soreness or fatigue in the chest, and it is duly repeated, 
 it is extremely useful in developing and giving tone to the 
 organs of respiration, and to the general system. As exer¬ 
 cises in reading aloud, public speaking, and lecturing, 
 require some exertion, they ought to be indulged in with 
 prudence, and constant reference to the constitution and 
 health of the individual. When early resorted to, and 
 steadily persevered in, they are instrumental in warding 
 off disease, and communicating strength to an important 
 function.” 
 
96 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 The editor of the Journal of Health , speaking of 
 “the voice,” says: 
 
 “ The preservation of 
 the voice, and the means 
 of improving its tone and com¬ 
 pass, are subjects of no little 
 interest. Even though it be exerted 
 only in ordinary conversation, in 
 reading aloud, or in singing, a full, 
 clear, and pleasing voice, must be 
 considered as no mean accomplish¬ 
 ment. The first and most important 
 rule for the preservation of the 
 voice, supported equally by ancient 
 authorities and modern experience, 
 is, that the public speaker should, if 
 he ‘ strive for the mastery,’ be 
 habitually temperate in all things 
 moderate in the indulgence of the 
 table, and not given to any personal 
 
 r Fig. 12.—INVOCATION. 
 
 excess. 
 
 u The voice should not be exerted after a full meal. It 
 should never be urged beyond its strength, nor strained to 
 its utmost pitch, without intermission. Frequent change 
 ot pitch is the best preservative. The voice, when hoarse, 
 should not be exerted, if it can possibly be avoided. 
 
 u To speak well with anything in the mouth, is scarcely 
 possible. Few things are so injurious to the voice as 
 tobacco. By the use of it, the voice becomes dry, and is 
 rendered harsh and broken. The voice, as well as the 
 health of a speaker, suffers materially, unless the chest is 
 allowed to expand freely. Hence, all compression or 
 restiaint should be carefully removed from this portion of 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 97 
 
 the body; for the same reason, an erect position should be 
 assumed, as well in speaking' and reading aloud, as in 
 singing.” 
 
 The following sug¬ 
 gestions or outline of the 
 requisites necessary for the pro¬ 
 duction of a good reader or 
 speaker, may be opportune. A 
 knowledge of the right use of the 
 breathing apparatus, together with 
 the proper manner of disciplin¬ 
 ing and using the voice, is the 
 first subject the student should 
 notice. 
 
 Breathing. — In breathing 
 stand in a perfectly erect but easy 
 posture, with the weight of the 
 body resting on one foot, the feet 
 at the proper angle and distance 
 from each other (see Figs, i and 
 2). In effusive breathing draw in 
 slowly a full breath and emit it very slowly in a pro¬ 
 longed sound of the breathing k or ah in a whisper. In 
 expulsive breathing draw in somewhat quicker than the 
 preceding, a full breath, and send it forth with a lively, ex¬ 
 plosive force, the sound of the h but little prolonged. In 
 explosive breathing draw in a full breath faster than in ex¬ 
 pulsive, and emit very quickly in the brief sound of the h. 
 
 13 *—Patriotism. 
 
 W hispering —Those who are accustomed to articulate 
 poorly should practice whispering—for in whispering a 
 poor articulation cannot be understood—let the student fol¬ 
 low the instructions given in preceding paragraph. In 
 
9 8 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 effusive whispering let the breath pass from the mouth 
 gently, so that it could be understood ten feet 
 distant. In the expulsive emit with more 
 force, so as to be understood twenty feet dis¬ 
 tant. In the explosive send forth the breath 
 in as abrupt and explosive a manner as 
 possible. 
 
 Qualities of Voice.— The qualities 
 of voice generally used in elocution and 
 which should receive the highest degree 
 of culture, are the Pure Tone , the 
 Orotund, the Tremor, the Aspirat- 
 f ed, the Guttural , the Falsetto and the 
 Whisper. The Pure Tone is a clear } 
 smooth, sonorous flow of sound, used to 
 express joy, love and tranquility. The 
 Orotund Tone is a full, deep, round, pure 
 tone of a voice; although sometimes nat¬ 
 ural, it is more frequently acquired—it is 
 a most pleasing and musical sound. It 
 enables the speaker to enunciate dis¬ 
 tinctly; it is the most powerful tone, 
 readily modulated and easy to expand or diminish, used 
 especially to express sublime , impassioned and pathetic 
 emotions. The Aspirated Tone is mostly used in sup¬ 
 pressed passion or whispering, as used to express fear , 
 anger, terror, revenge and remorse. The Guttural Tone . 
 This tone is uttered from the throat, as its name imports. 
 It should be employed very seldom and only to convey an 
 expression of scorn, aversion, hatred and conte?npt. The 
 Falsetto Tone is sometimes called a “ head voice.” It is 
 used to simulate winnings of peevishness, or the scream of 
 baffled rage, or abject, hopeless terror. It may be cultivated 
 
 Fig. 14.—CAUTION. 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 99 
 
 and attained by practice. The Tremor Tone. This tone 
 is. rarely used, butjs easily acquired by practice; as indi¬ 
 cated by its title it has the qualities 
 'which distinguish laughter or cry- 
 Tfie Whisper. The word 
 illustrates itself. It is, if used 
 carefully, eminently success¬ 
 ful. Several of Amer¬ 
 ica’s tragedians have 
 •Jused it with more effect 
 than the loudest excla¬ 
 mations in many deep tragic 
 passages. 
 
 Articulation. — Correct 
 articulation is the distinct utter¬ 
 ance of the elementary sounds 
 in syllables and words, accord¬ 
 ing to the most approved custom 
 of pronouncing them, and is the 
 first requisite in good reading 
 Fig. i-** Courage* an( j S p ea ki n g # clear and ele. 
 
 gant enunciation may be acquired by continued practice 
 and indefatigable study. The student should remember 
 that good articulation very much depends upon opening 
 the mouth sufficiently, so that nothing can impede a round, 
 full tone of voice. 
 
 Modulation is the giving to each tone of voice its 
 appropriate character and expression. It includes the con¬ 
 sideration of Pitch or Key variation. Force and rate— 
 the voice is defined as capable of assuming three keys for 
 convenience and practice—commonly divided into Low, 
 Middle and High key. The Low Key is generally used in 
 expressing awe y amazement , horror y despair , deep solem • 
 
100 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 nitv, melancholy , and deep grief. The Middle Key , some¬ 
 times called the conversational key, should be used in 
 common conversation—in the delivery of an 
 essay, doctrinal sermon, a plain or practical 
 oration. The High Key is used in express¬ 
 ing brisk , gay , and joyous emotions, also the 
 extremes of pain and fear. The Alonotone. 
 Properly speaking does not come under the 
 head of Pitch, yet will be better understood 
 if treated here. The Monotone is 
 the opposite of Modulation. It is 
 speaking without change of tone— 
 preserving a fullness of tone with 
 out ascent or descent; it requires a full tone 
 of voice with slow and prolonged utterance. 
 It is the only tone that can properly present 
 the supernatural and ghostly, also the best 
 tone to practice in the cultivation of the 
 voice. Imitative modulation is used with 
 powerful effect in the hands of a good reader, 
 or speaker. It marks the reader’s appreci- 
 Fig. 16 .—hate. ation of the sense and beauty of a passage. 
 
 In descriptive reading, motion and sound, in all their modi¬ 
 fications, are more or less imitated. Variations are the 
 different movements of the voice, or variations from the 
 key in the delivery of a sentence. There are the Sweeps, 
 the Bend, the Slides and the Closes. The Sweeps are 
 divided into the Upper, Lower and Accentual. The move¬ 
 ment of the voice upward from the key to the word empha¬ 
 sized, and coming down upon the word with increased 
 force, is carried below the key and back to it, will represent 
 the Upper and Lower Sweeps—the Accentual takes the 
 same movement, though very much diminished in extent 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 101 
 
 and is generally developed upon one syllable or word. 
 The Bend is a slight turn of the voice upward at a pause 
 of imperfect sense; it gives life and anima¬ 
 tion to the subject. The slides are divid¬ 
 ed into the Rising, Falling, the Waving 
 and the Circumflex Slide. The 
 Rising Slide is the gradual rise 
 of the voice upward through a 
 series of tones, ceasing at the 
 highest. The Falling is the reverse 
 of the Rising—ceasing at the lowest. 
 
 The Waving has the movements of 
 the Sweeps. The Double or Circum¬ 
 flex Slide is used where the disjunctive 
 conjunction or is used; the voice takes 
 the movement of the Rising Slide to 
 or and the Falling Slide from it to the 
 close. The Closes are divided into 
 the Partial (^ ) and the Perfect 
 The Partial is the fall of the voice at 
 the end of one of the parts of a sentence 
 to the key, or to a point near the key Fig-. 17—adoration. 
 preparatory to the perfect close. The Perfect Close is a 
 fall of the voice at the end of a sentence to a point gener¬ 
 ally below the key. Force or emphasis is a particular 
 stress or force of voice given to one or more important 
 words in a sentence; as a general rule, force is placed upon 
 the word, or words, which, more than others , express the 
 idea to be conveyed. 
 
 Stress, according to Dr. Rush, is but the render¬ 
 ing of Force perceptible or impressive in single sounds. 
 There are properly three kinds—the Radical, the Median, 
 and the Increasing. The Radical is generally explosive, 
 
 YFP8. 
 
102 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 and falls on the first part of a sound. The Median is also 
 generally explosive, and swells out toward the middle o 
 a sound, and vanishes toward the close. The Increasing , 
 effusive at first, increases till the last 
 moment of the sound, and ends with 
 the explosive. Rate must necessarily 
 vary with the nature of the 
 thought—the tendency of, 
 
 American speakers is to un¬ 
 due rapidity. Slow rate should gen¬ 
 erally be practiced, because the speak¬ 
 er or reader has the air of self-poses- 
 sion, can enunciate distinctly, and has 
 in reserve the power to increase the 
 rate where the nature of the sentence 
 may demand it. 
 
 • Style . —The student should never 
 attempt to deliver any selection until 
 he first ascertains to what style it be¬ 
 longs. If it be— 
 
 1. Argumentative , he must deliv¬ 
 er it as if debating, therefore earnest5 
 
 2. Descriptive , he must deliver 
 it as if actually describing some scene; 
 
 3 * Persuasive , he must use those 
 looks, tones, and gestures appropriately used in persuasion. 
 
 Passion. The student should always have his mind so 
 wrought up to the proper pitch in which the Passion should 
 be rendered, that he may with ease be able to deliver it 
 correctly. Great actors, before appearing in the character 
 
 they are to personify, through force of wiH work their 
 
 minds up to the degree of passion required, and thus ap- 
 pear perfectly lifelike. 
 
 Fig. 18.— CURSINO. 
 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 103 
 
 Elocutionists, also, in exhibiting some vehement pas¬ 
 sion to a class, have brought their mind up to such a pitch 
 of frenzy as to be several hours in 
 overcoming its effects. Students 
 should always, before attempting to 
 express one of the passions, carefully 
 examine in what Tone, Key, Force, 
 and Rate it should be delivered. 
 
 Finding these, adapt the voice 
 and expression to it, and then deliver 
 it. 
 
 Gesture. —Oratory without 
 proper gesture loses half its 
 charm. The ancient Greeks and^ 
 
 Romans attached great importance 
 to gesture. Their rhetoricians taught 
 their pupils as well graceful gestures, 
 as how to manage their voices. He 
 who gestures spontaneously, con¬ 
 forms to his subject, and who in other 
 respects, is truly eloquent, can, in the 
 most effectual manner, make himself 
 a master of other men’s minds. Such 
 an orator has power “to stir a fever Fig. 19 .—resolution. 
 in the blood of age, and make an infant’s sinews strong 
 as steel.” Gesture should be used only when it will aid in 
 expressing more forcibly, and to be appropriate and impres¬ 
 sive, must always be natural; excess in gestures is to be 
 avoided as well as awkward ones. The following rules 
 have been given by one who has given much thought to 
 this subject and will be found of great value to the student, 
 taken in connection with the illustrations contained in this 
 
 article. 
 
104 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 I. “ The gesture, employed most frequently, is the 
 movement used in handing a book or other article to a 
 friend, and the delivery of an oration is simply 
 the presentation of ideas to an audience. 
 
 “Position of the HAND.-The hand open, 
 the first finger straight, the other 
 slightly curved, and generally the 
 palms of the hands open toward the audi¬ 
 ence, so that they may be seen by the audi- 
 ance. 
 
 “ 2. The Argwnentative gesture may, 
 and should be, used most frequently 
 in debate and argumentative decla- 
 *mation. 
 
 “ Position of the Hands. —First 
 finger straight, the others closed, or nearly 
 so. 
 
 “ This gesture is very useful in earnest 
 debate, as it was often remarked of Clay 
 that the argument seemed to drop from 
 the ends of his fingers. These gestures 
 are of great value in any discourse. 
 
 “ 3. The Fist , sometimes called the 
 Fig. 20 .—admih ation ‘ sledge-hammer ’ gesture, should be used 
 in the expression of the most earnest, powerful, moving 
 sentiments, where strong arguments are to be brought out 
 with telling effect. This gesture was a favorite one with 
 Daniel Webster; and in those memorable debates with 
 Hayne in the United States Senate, he is said to have riv¬ 
 eted his arguments with the force of a giant when at every 
 appropriate place he brought down his 4 sledge-hammer 1 
 gesture. 
 
 “Save in debate and argumentative orations, gesturi 
 
 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 105 
 
 some 
 
 should seldom be used, except when referring tosoi 
 object in nature. 
 
 I. “When referring to the earth covered with snow, 
 to withering famine, to desola¬ 
 tion in whatever respect, or 
 when referring to death or hell, 
 always have the palm of the 
 hand downward , and the arm 
 raised but slightly from the 
 body. 
 
 II. “ When referring to the 
 earth robed in green, to the 
 trees and flowers in bloom, 
 to life or to abundance, 
 always have the palm of the 
 hand upward , and often { 
 raised as high as the head. 
 
 “In all cases be careful to com¬ 
 plete the gesture where it is intended 
 at the instant of uttering the syllable 
 or word; for if it comes in before or 
 lags behind the word, it will cer¬ 
 tainly detract from the effect.” 
 
 Position of the Body.— A 
 speaker should not stand perfectly 
 erect, only when he is expressing Fig. 21.— regret. 
 courage, fortitude, firmness of purpose, etc. The posture 
 of the body should be a little inclined to the audience, 
 yet nearly in an erect position, that the chest may be fully 
 expanded and an easy play given to the organs of respira¬ 
 tion and utterance. 
 
 The Weight of the Body. —Grace and dignity 
 depend much on the position of the feet and lower limbs. 
 
 The weight of the body- should be thrown upon one 
 
 
io6 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 foot, the other being left to preserve the balance and move 
 freely, or the weight of the body changed to re st upon it 
 The foot supporting the weight of the 
 body, is firmly planted. The feet at 
 nearly right angles—so that lines passing 
 lengthwise through them 
 shall cross under the heel 
 of the foot least advanced 
 —(see Fig. i.) A little practice will 
 enable the learner without effort or 
 affectation to assume this position easily 
 as he gives utterance to his words. In 
 advancing or retiring the speaker must 
 make the change with the free foot, 
 and by a step of moderate length. 
 
 . Position of the Head.— The 
 bead should be in an erect, natural posi¬ 
 tion, not stiff, as this in delivery contri¬ 
 butes to the expression. The body 
 should be upright with the face and 
 breast turned toward the audience, the 
 shoulders square, and not shrugged up. 
 
 The learner should avoid inclining to 
 one side, as it expresses languor, if drop- fi*. 22 .—disdain. 
 ped, humility; when turned upward, pride; when stiff,a lack 
 of ease and self-possession. 
 
 The Countenance.— As the eye is the light of the 
 body, so in delivery they are the life of the expression,and 
 none will deny that the eye speaks more truly than the 
 tongue—this may also be affirmed of the countenance in 
 general. The forehead denotes calmness or trouble, the 
 lowering brow indignation, the tell-tale cheek shame or 
 fear, and the expressive lip, scorn. One well versed in 
 
 
 mm 
 
elocution. 
 
 107 
 
 |v> 
 
 the expression of the face savs- «m, 
 call^into action, such passion is depicted" hy^hTmohon 
 
 n ° ^ 1C muscI es, and these motions 
 are accompanied by a strong palpi- 
 tation of the heart. If the counte¬ 
 nance be tranquil, it always denotes tran- 
 qmhty ,n the region of the breast and 
 of the heart.” Again, « Hence it appears 
 ^that the orator who would move others 
 must appear to be moved himself; 
 that is, he must express his emo- 
 ,tions in his countenance and by 
 his manner, otherwise his Ian- 
 jguage will be contradicted by his looks, 
 -and his audience will be more inclined to 
 beheve them, which are the natural and 
 sure indications of the inward mind, than 
 his words, which may easily be feigned 
 
 and may differ much from his real sent!- 
 ments.” 
 
 The speaker should avoid the follow- 
 mg faults: Staring or fixing the eye upon 
 vacancy, or upon an individual; or foolishly 
 
 - turning them down; weeping—unless upon 
 
 occasions worthy of tears. Frowning, smiling, unmean¬ 
 ingly pushing out, or biting the lips. 
 
 The Hands, Fingers and Arms must not be over¬ 
 looked, as they play an important part in Gesture; grief is 
 denoted by placing the hands over the eyes. Truth or 
 emotion is expressed by placing the hand on the breast. 
 Reflection is shown by putting the finger on the chin. 
 Silence by placing the forefinger on the lips. These ges- 
 tures should be used sparingly and appropriately. Cleav. 
 
 Fig. 23.—APPEAL. 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 108 
 
 $ng the air with the hand or forming it into a scoop, 
 nervous twitching of the fingers or crossing them, clasping 
 the hands or placing the palm of one on that of the other, 
 are serious faults that should be avoided; every motion of 
 the arm should be made gracefully, every movement should 
 seem to come from the shoulder; the elbow should noi 
 originate such movement. 
 
 Hamlet’s Advice to the Players contains in a 
 nutshell all the golden rules of oratory. It cannot be too 
 often read or too deeply pondered over. Every student 
 should analyze this epitome of instruction and be de¬ 
 lighted to notice that the great artist has prepared in a 
 single page a concise summary of invaluable information. 
 It is a good piece for recitation. Hamlet says: 
 
 “ Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to 
 you; trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as 
 many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spake 
 my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your 
 hand thus , but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tem¬ 
 pest, and (as I may say), whirlwind of your passion, you 
 must acquire and beget a temperance , that may give it 
 smoothness . O, it offends me to the soul , to hear a robust¬ 
 ious, periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very 
 rags , to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most 
 part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows 
 and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o’er- 
 doing Termagant; it out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid 
 it. Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion 
 be your tutor . Suit the action to the word / the word to 
 the action y with this special observance: That you overstep 
 not the modesty of nature; for anything so over -done is far 
 from the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first 
 and now, was, and is, to hold, as t’were, the mirror up to 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 109 
 
 Tmage’- In/thl V ' rtUe ^ °' Nn f cature ! scorn her own 
 image, and the very age and body of the t; m „ 1 • , 
 
 and pressure. Now this, overdo^ or ^ 7 tal off 
 
 though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the’ 
 judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must, in your 
 allowance, o erweigh a whole theater of others. O, there 
 
 an/thatV- 1 // haVe Seen P Ia >’> and heard others praise. 
 ”l tha ' ^ (n °e l ° S P 6ak profanely), that, neithei 
 g e accent of Christian, nor the gift of Christian, 
 pagan or man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have 
 thought some of nature’s journeymen had made men and not 
 made them well; they imitated humanity so abominably." 
 
 EXPLANATIONS OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Fig. 1 —Position—R ight foot advanced, the left sup- 
 porting the body. The principal weight of the body rests 
 upon the foot that is deeply shaded. See Fig. 7. 
 
 Fig. 2 .—Position.—T he change from the first to the 
 second position is made by stepping forward with the right 
 foot; throwing the principal weight upon it, only that part 
 of the left, which is shaded, resting upon the floor. This 
 position is assumed in Earnest Appeal, Bold Assertion, and 
 Impassioned Speech. 
 
 Fig. 3 .—Right Hand Supine.—T he hand should be 
 well opened; when partly closed the gesture is weakened. 
 
 Fig* 4 .—The Index Finger.—E mployed in Indica¬ 
 tion, Precision, etc. 
 
 Fig. 5 .—Clenched Hand.—U sed in Extreme Empha¬ 
 sis, Vehement Declaration, Desperate Resolve. 
 
 Fig. 6 .—Hand Clasped.—A ppropriate in Supplica¬ 
 tion and Earnest Entreaty. 
 
 Fig. 7.—This gesture is employed in Emphatic, par¬ 
 ticular assertion. 
 
 Fig. 8.—This gesture is used in Concession, Submission 
 
 and Humility* 
 
IIO 
 
 ELOCUTION’. 
 
 Fig. 9.—This gesture is used in Specific Reference. 
 Emphatic Designation; the hand inverted is used in Re- 
 proacn, Scorn, Contempt, etc. 
 
 ff - 10.—Grief.—T he right foot slightly advanced; 
 the left arm dropped close to the side; right arm advanced 
 a little to the front, both hands open, the palm of the right 
 hand the palm downward; the head leaning forward* the 
 eye directed downward, with lids drooping. 
 
 Kig. 11. Dislike. —The right foot slightly advanced* 
 the left knee slightly bent; the right arm almost falling 
 straight, but a little advanced to the center of the fio-imT- 
 the left hand extends from the side; the hands open, the’ 
 palms downward; the head a little drooped forward; the 
 face turned toward the right shoulder. 
 
 Fig. 12. Invocation. —Heels well together; form 
 erect; arms fully extended; the right hand to a level with 
 the face, the left aim so that the hand is below the waist; 
 the head turned sideways as though admiring the elevated* 
 objects looked at. 
 
 Fi g* * 3 —Patriotism.—T he right foot a slight space 
 in advance; the form elevated to full height; the right arm 
 extended, tne hand just raised to a level with the eyes; the 
 left arm extended, so that the wrist is on a level with the 
 waist ; the hand open, the palm horizontal with the body. 
 
 Fig. 14.— Caution. —The right foot about an inch in 
 advance; the legs close together; the form at ease; the 
 right arm bent so that the back of the open fingers touches 
 the lips; the left arm at the side, but slightly extended, 
 partly forward, partly sideways; the hand open, the palm 
 downward. 
 
 Pig* J 5 *—Courage. —The left foot a little in advance; 
 the figure somewhat thrown back, so that the breast is 
 well advanced; the arms fully extended; hands open; the 
 right hand on a level with forehead; the left on a level 
 with lower part of thigh; the right palm partly turned up¬ 
 ward, the left partly down. 
 
 Fig. 16.— Hate. —The right foot advanced, so that its 
 heel just precedes the left foot; the body slightly bent 
 back; the face turned to the sky, the gaze directed upward, 
 with a fierce expression; the eyes full of baleful light; the 
 
elocution. 
 
 Ill 
 
 2“?- £ 5e wans 
 
 «lvanf;i^h7t;°T Tr ° N -7T he rigllt foot moderately 
 , need, tne attitude gracefully easv th#* n'o-Rf i 
 
 at t le elbow,the thumb being on a level with the shoulder* 
 
 -he hand open, the palm outward; the left arm hanging 
 
 down perpendicular with, and a short distance from g t hf 
 
 s jde the hand nearly open, the palm down; the head 
 
 slightly thrown back; the eyes upturned. 
 
 • w 1 ?’ lS * ^ URSIN G.—The feet slightly separated the 
 
 Sraieht'from't! the ri ^ a,™ exteaded 
 
 straight from the body, in the direction of the thing or per- 
 
 son addressed; the hand almost open, fingers slightly con¬ 
 tracted; the left arm stiffly at the side, some distance from 
 the peison palm of open hand to the front; shoulders well 
 back; head erect; lips wearing a fierce expression; eyes 
 glancing malignantly. y 
 
 Fig. 19—Resolution. —The heels well together; the 
 form straight; the left arm nearly perpendicular with the 
 body, and about nine inches from it; the right arm, as far 
 as the elbow, close to the body, from the elbow rather ex¬ 
 tended out; the palms of both hands turned down; the head 
 held firmly, but not boastingly erect. 
 
 Fig. 20—Admiration.— The right foot very slightly 
 advanced; the left knee bent a little so as to bring the fig¬ 
 ure into an easy, agreeable posture; the form quite erect; 
 the shoulders well back; the right arm stretched out on a 
 level with the breast; the hand open, and the index finger 
 pointed at the object spoken of (or to); the left arm close 
 to the hip, but from the hip slightly extended from the 
 body; the hand expanded and palm down. 
 
 Fig. 21.— Regret. —The right foot forward; the legs 
 well together; the right arm nearly perpendicular with the 
 body; the hand about one foot from the thigh; nearly open; 
 the left arm close to the body to the elbow; the head turned 
 a little backward, over the right shoulder, and very slightly 
 inclined forward; the eyes gazing on the distance. 
 
 Fig. 22.— Disdain —The weight of the body resting 
 on the right foot, the left foot merely touching the toe to 
 
 i 
 
ELOCUTION. 
 
 I 12 
 
 the ground; the right arm extended at full length, straight 
 from the shoulder; the hand open, palm down; the left 
 arm a little from the side; the hand extended, the palm 
 down; the body proudly erect;the face turned to the right; 
 tl^e eyes following the pointing of the extended right 
 hand. 
 
 Fig. 23. —Appeal.— Right foot a little in advance; left 
 knee very slightly bent;shoulders thrown back somewhat; 
 face a little upturned; eyes lifted heavenward; right arm 
 extended; hand open, and a little ax>ve the level of the 
 forehead; left arm extended almost horizontally, so as to 
 bring the wrist just below the belt; the hand open, palm 
 upward. 
 

 
 
 
 
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 I 
 
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