ADVANCED ELOCUTIOIN' UC-NRLF $B ET3 521 ^SlIOBJ\£AKER J Digitized by the Internet Arciiive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/advancedelocutioOOshoerich Advanced Elocution DESIGNED AS A PRACTICAL TREATISE FOR TEACHERS AND STUDENTS IN Vocal Training Articulation, Physical Culture i^^ Gesture BY Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker Principal of The National School of Elocution and Oratory AIDED BY George b. Hynson ^i^ John h. bechtel "Art does not pervert, but refines and exalts Nature, and it is only by a combination of the two that we can produce perfection in anything that is the workmanship of man." MUKDOCK. Philadelphia The Penn Publishing Company 1898 CONTENTS PAOB Expression 13 Media of Expression 15 VOCAL EXPRESSION The Voice 16 Purity 18 Flexibility 19 Power 19 Definitions 20 General Observations 21 Vocal Gymnastics 22 Vocal Chart 23 Vocal Practice 28 Directions 29 Breathing * . . . 30 The Nose 32 Exercises 32 Special Exercises . 34 Inflection 35 Shows Contrast 39 Tells the Facts 39 Length of Slide Shows Importance of the Fact .... 39 Straight Slides 40 Inflections in Emotional Selections 41 Sharp Angles and Continuous Wave Movements in the Slide 43 Long Rising Slide and Long Falling Slide 44 Examples 47 Quality 48 Pure Voice 50 Normal 50 Orotund • . . . . 53 Pectoral 56 Tremolo • 58 vii Vlll CONTENTS PAGE Impure Voice 59 Aspirate 59 Guttural 60 Nasal . . . ; . .'. . . 62 Falsetto 64 Oral 64 Time 65 Examples 66 Pitch 70 Examples 71 Force, Volume, Intensity 74 Examples 76 Rhythm 78 Time 80 Accent 82 Movement 83 Tone Color 83 Enunciation 84 Impersonation 87 Examples 88 Stress 91 Cadence 91 Remarks ?)2 VERBAL EXPRESSION Introductory 93 Elementary Sounds 96 The Alphabet 96 Marks of Notation 96 Digraphs 97 Signs and Sounds 97 Elementary 98 Standard and Clipped Sounds 98 Cognates 99 Long and Short Sounds 99 Discussion of Elementary Sounds 99 Vowel Sounds 99 Consonant Sounds 108 CONTENTS IX PAGE Table of Equivalents 118 Vowel Equivalents 118 Consonant Equivalents 119 Table op the Several Sounds Eepresented by the" Same Symbol 121 Vowel Symbols . . : 121 Consonant Symbols 122 Unusual Sounds 123 Consonant Combinations 127 Initial Combinations 128 Terminal Combinations 129 Syllabication 136 Accent 138 Discriminative Accent 140 Antithetical Accent 141 Influence of Accent on Vowel Sounds 141 Unaccented Terminal Syllables 147 Phonetic Analysis 156 Exercises and Rules 157 General Exercises 168 VISIBLE EXPRESSION Gesture 171 Gymnastics 172 The Dress 173 The Practice 174 Educational Gymnastics 175 Nomenclature 17(> Positions 177 Carriage of the Body . 178 Walking 181 Sitting 184 Rising 184 Courtesying ', 184 Kneeling 184 Bowing 185 Free Work 185 Copyright 1896 by The Penn Publishing Company 8 f ~» PREFACE In these latter days much interest has been manifested in the subject of Elocution. To know what is the natural as well as the artistic way of expressing one's self, either by the voice or in gesture, is rapidly becoming a demand of the American people. This interest is seen and felt in colleges, in schools, and even in society. It is greater than any which has pertained to delivery since the days of Grecian and Roman oratory and acting. Truly it may be said that this is the Renaissance period in the history of Elocution, and the outlook is hopeful and en- couraging. It is evident also that teachers, however their methods may differ, are to-day centralizing about this ob- jective point — the enlargement and elevation of human personality through the proper cultivation of the power of expression. This book is not intended to introduce any new system, but simply to present in a more modern form, thoughts that are believed to be in touch with all that has proved to be of value in things both new and old. In some degree it is a synthetization of the inheritance of the past and of the wealth of thought of the present, the latter crystallized from such writers and philosophers as Austin, Rush, Darwin, Delsarte, Engel, Brown, and others. Upon such a foundation, aided by an experience obtained in schoolroom and platform work, as well as in the every- day walks of life, has been framed a system or method which has proved to be helpful to the many pupils who have been under our special training. It is believed that M594968 4 PREFACE this advanced method will prove no less valuable to all who may be inclined to study these pages. At least it will be as valuable to a student as any work on a similar topic is, in the absence of the living instructor. Elocution is the art of speaking naturally and artistically. Training supplies to others that which the horn orator pos- sesses under all circumstances, but which few persons ever indicate the possession of, until they have been taught what their resources are and have acquired skill to use these in their own delivery. It is true that in the matter of public speaking or delivery, as in all other pursuits, some will excel, but culture in this, as in all branches* of education, is helpful to every one, and there is no person, unless he is physically disabled, who cannot be trained away from indistinct or defective enunciation, faulty tones, or ungainly, meaningless movements and attitudes. Any one who will make the effort may come to possess a pleasantly modulated and resonant voice, a distinct artic- ulation, and ease and grace of bearing, which if utilized only in the quieter walks of life, are in themselves an ac- complishment greatly to be desired. In regard to the selections contained in this volume, it has been the aim to choose such as are classic or standard, and at the same time interesting. They are divided into didactic, dramatic, oratorio, epic, lyric, grave and gay, and are suitable for reading, recital, declamation, and colloquy. Grateful acknowledgments are due to authors and pub- lishers for their courteous permission to use many of the selections. Acknowledgment is also made for the valuable assistance furnished by Professors John H. Bechtel and George B. Hynson. The former, from his careful study and his experience in teaching Orthoepy, has most accept- ably prepared the department of Articulation; and the latter has no less ably prepared the department of Voice Culture, PREFACE O Believing the book will receive the recognition it merits, be that little oi great, the author sends it forth with the humble request that a thorough inspection or a fair trial be given it before a judgment is pronounced. Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker. Philadelphia, October 1st, 1895. ADTANCED ELOCUTION EXPRESSION *' Self-culture means perfect symmetrical development of all our powers of body, mind, and soul."— Goethe. Man is an embodied mystery. Fashioned of earth, endowed with great possibilities, made in the image of his Divine Artificer — he is an enigma to himself Concerning him, scientists and theologians have thought and written and taught, and while intrinsic knowledge has been attained thereby, yet the fact remains that it is not known where or how one part of man's nature ends and another part begins. It is, however, an almost universal belief that man possesses a three-sided nature, and that one side or another predominates according as that individual side is cultivated ; or the three sides may be equally cul- tivated, resulting then in the highest type of the human race. Applying this idea of the Trinity of man to the teaching of Expression, man, according to Delsarte, pre- sents himself in three phases, namely : " Sensitive, intel- lectual, and moral — life, the sensitive or physical phase ; mind, the mental phase; and soul, the moral or spiritual phase ; and in our finite condition no one of these exists separate from the other. They interpenetrate, interlace, correspond with and embrace each other," hence they act and react each upon the other, constituting as a whole the Ego, the Personality. This Personality makes known to the outward world the facts or impressions received there- from, as well as the impressions which come through 13 14 ADVANCED ELOCUTION inward light and experience, by means of the physical organism, and this manifestation is termed Expression. In other words, man receives impression, which he may utilize for the benefit or bane of others, through expression, and this in turn may act upon another as impression, and so on. How important then becomes this axiomatic statement, " Exalt the rank of the personality — that is, enrich the mind with knowledge, and the heart with all that is beautiful and good, and train the body in all its parts to manifest the capabilities of the other two." In accord with the Three States of the Being, Delsarte formulated the following in regard to the Laws of Motion as applied to Expression : " Man, by his finite conditions, is restricted in his movements, and no matter what these conditions are, whatever he manifests, must be manifested by one only of the following modes of motion, or by a blending of two, or of all of them, namely : Eccentric, Con- centric, and Normal, or Poise. Eccentric, from a centre outward ; Concentric, toward a centre, or inward ; and Normal, or Poise, centered or balanced.* The Vital States or phases of the Being manifest themselves through Eccen- tric modes of motion, the Mental States or phases through Concentric modes of motion, and the Moral through Normal, or Poise." This thought must not be lost sight of, however, that when there is a preponderance of mani- festation of one side of the Being the others are there to sustain an equilibrium. Note. — A very valuable exercise is to have the pupil present, at this point of his progress, original or quoted examples, illustrative of the above-named laws. * " We believe Delsarte to have been the first to apply the three modes of mo- tion to the Three States of the Being. This is his great discovery, and is at the centre of the Delsarte System. Yet we fancy that a philosophic mind reading Sir Isaac Newton's 'Three Mechanical Axioms,' will be strongly impressed Avith the idea that the great French teacher found the data for his Laws of Motion, as applied to Expression, in the masterly formulae of the great English thinker."— " Philosophy of Expreesimi," by Moses True Brown. MEDIA OF EXPRESSION 15 It has long since been demonstrated that in order to become a finished speaker or reader something more is needed than merely to be born, yet there are those to-day who believe that if a proper conception of the thought or feeling be obtained, true artistic elocution is certain to follow. On the contrary, it is necessary to assist Nature by careful cultivation in all that pertains to Expression if the latter is to be idealized into its highest forms of beauty, grace, and power. Mind and spirit communicate them- selves rapidly and often passionately to the outer world through the body medium, in ways which may be natural, but which are by no means perfect or graceful expressions of Nature ; " for Nature may readily run into deformity, and it must be the purpose of Art to remove and conceal all deformities, for Art is called in not to pervert, but to refine and exalt Nature." MEDIA OF EXPRESSION "A certain mechanical preparation must precede every art." — Goethb. The media of Expression, through the physical nature, are vocal, verbal, and visible or pantomimic. Vocal includes all that pertains to voice ; verbal, to the use of words ; and visible, to that which relates to attitudes, bearings, motions of the human form, together with ex- pressions of the countenance. Finished, artistic, and effective media of Expression are attained first, by means of vocal and verbal exercises and educational and sesthetical gymnastics ; and, secondly, by the study of the principles or laws of expression and their application through practice. When the avenues of expression have been trained, the processes by which this training has been reached may be lost sight of; for this " strength at the centre," as it 16 ADVANCED ELOCUTION were, *' gives freedom to the surface," and so, without loss either of spontaneity or individuality, the speaker or reader can safely trust the conveyance of his thoughts and emotions to his cultured media. VOCAL EXPRESSION "The Cultivated Voice is like an orchestra. It ranges high, intermediate, or low, unconsciously to him who uses it, and men listen quite unaware that they have been bewitched out of their weariness by the charms of a voice not artifi- cial, but made, by assiduous training, to be his second nature."— Bekcher. The voice is the chief medium of human expression. Its use is general and constant. It is the great avenue through which the impressions of all animal life are con- veyed. As these impressions are more varied and exalted in man, he has developed, enlarged, and refined this medium, so that through it he may express a variety of sentiment which is almost without limit. To many, voice is almost the exclusive agent of Expression, and it is the main instrument of all. Literature itself reaches its highest conception when translated into living speech. The great poems and dramas are interpreted by the voice of the reader at the fireside, on the public platform, or in the crowded theatre. These productions live because their words have trembled on many tongues and because the voice of man has brought them anew into human relationship and sympathy. Even our silent reading owes much of its interest and power to vocal expression. We translate the formal sym- bols of the page into the varied forms of the living voice. Tones are imagined, inflections are conceived, and the w^hole is clothed with the garment of animated speech. The reason for this is obvious. The normal and ordinary VOCAL EXPRESSION 17 method of expression is vocalization, and these printed symbols are merely suggestive; the imagination easily supplies the remaining elements. Possibly we may think without words, but thought is always clothed in some kind of symbols, and thus is pre- sented in tangible shape, so that the mind may cognize it. Therefore we think in tones. A thought may be conceived and instantly a word is uttered to represent it. But the utterance of that word may convey an impression at vari- ance Avith its ordinary signification. Not only has the word been conceived, but the tone also. He who reads the words of Cassius, "And this man is now become a god," and fails to mentally interpret the tones, also fails to comprehend the meaning of the lines. By means of the voice man runs the whole gamut of the soul's varying phases. It informs, it interprets, it persuades, and denounces. It bears us aloft on the wings of its melody ; it pleases and thrills. No agency and no art can impress what lies beyond the realm of the well- attuned voice. It is the least cultivated of all the expressive agents. By this indifference we seem to say that while every other power, mental and physical, reaches its highest possibili- ties through systematic and intelligent cultivation, the voice is the one exception, and that its use comes by Nature. The intellect comes b}^ Nature, so do the imagi- nation and the emotions. Their proper and fuller exer- cise comes through cultivation. We are students of Expression throughout life. The acquisition of knowledge gives rise to the desire to express it. Now somewhere in the mind are stored up all the words, tones, and other symbols which we employ in expression. Before they can be uttered the power of selection must be exercised; that is, words and tones must be conceived before they can be given. The 2 18 ADVANCED ELOCUTION materials may be poor ; they may be limited, and the selection may not be judicious. These are the very reasons for the study of the voice for speech. Some voices are musical, but lack variety. Some hav- ing variety are devoid of power. Many violate physical law and offend the ear. Some run in a groove from which they never deviate. Many are marred by excessive inflec- tion ; others have almost none. It is to correct these faults, to develop the good qualities, to acquire greater power, and to do the work with a mini- mum effort that the student of voice should apply him- self. PURITY A pure voice is one of any given power which is made without friction. It must be produced with the least physical effort. Voice is the result of muscular energy, as much so as the movement of the arm. But this energy should not exceed the minimum required, neither should it be manifest in those parts that perform their functions best when in a state of comparative repose. A voice may often be prejudged by the contortions of the face. A pure voice should not be more fatiguing than any other simple exercise ; indeed, it is only a phase of breath- ing. Proper use will not result in injury, but even limited exercise in a faulty manner may be productive of serious results. Clergyman's sore-throat is caused by using the voice in an unnatural manner. A pure tone is a language in itself. It is the expres- sive agent of all pure sentiment. Discords in nature represent violent, harsh, and unpleasant things. Contrast the meanings of the following sounds : a laugh and a scream ; the song of the mocking-bird and the raven's croak ; a dog's joyous bark and his growl ; a note of song and a groan; the hum of bees and the clangor of fire- VOCAL EXPRESSION 19 bells ; the driver's whistle and the rattle of his wagon — each of these is a language as definite as words, and pro- duces its certain peculiar impression. FLEXIBILITY No voice can long continue to please and to impress unless it has power to represent all the varying phases of thought and emotion. It must at all times perfectly rep- resent the sentiment. Light and shade are as much feat- ures of speech as of painting. Monotony must be avoided. The sentiment dictates the shading and variety, but if the instrument is not properly attuned it will fail to respond in a satisfactory manner. Thought and feeling cannot create a vocabulary ; nor can they bring into being inflections, varieties of tone, and harmonies of which the speaker is ignorant. The senti- ment may demand all the powers we possess, but it cannot create new ones. Often we use words and tones, not be- cause they accurately express our meaning, but because they are the best we have. Monotony may arise from any one of three causes : the sentiment may be inherently devoid of variety ; the voice may have been used in a certain way so long that it has worn for itself a groove ; or it may arise from a lack of ap- preciation of tone values. The latter may be termed a lack of ear. If we would make this more responsive we must cultivate it, and this we may do by practice. POWER Our principal vocal school is conversation, and the chasm between this and public speaking is very wide, and is rarely bridged without much cultivation or years of practice. Every element that enters into public delivery has its basis in conversation, but when we face the great 20 ADVANCED ELOCUTION audience all these qualities must be broadened, adapted and ennobled. True Expression demands intelligence, beauty, and strength. It has its fruition in the last. The voice must elevate, denounce, and command. It must leap from pew to pew, and from balcony to balcony. It may tremble with the intensity of earnestness. It may ring in the trumpet notes of command, or thunder in denun- ciation. It is the " harp of a thousand strings " whose chords were strung by the hands of Deity, and we are the masters with our hands upon the strings. DEFINITIONS Voice is that sound which is made in the larynx. Whether it be high or low, soft or loud, pure or impure, resonant or hollow, tlie seat of production is the same. It owes its different qualities to the modifications and changes of the entire vocal machinery. All kinds of voice are produced by a vibration of the vocal bands. Voice is vocalized breath. Its production and control depend upon the proper command of respiration. The lungs must be properly filled and expiration intelligently directed. Breath is the material of which voice is made. Respiration for vocal purposes should be studied. Voice is that phase of muscular activity which results in sound. Breath cannot be taken into nor expelled from the lungs without muscular action. This action also controls the vocal bands, the movements of the jaw and mouth and the expansion of the throat. We should, therefore, direct our attention to the exercise of these factors. Voice is the human organ of expression through ivhich the soul manifests itself in sound. If we would call forth its harmonies we must first assume the mental phases which will demand them. A perfectly cultivated voice responds VOCAL EXPRESSION 21 instantly to the demands of thought and emotion, but the master mind at the key-board can draw forth only the melodies that it has already conceived. The tendency of the voice is to be truthful, but it cannot express that which has not been created. Voice is the result of a psychic condition which manifests itself in the physical nature^ causing the air to he expelled from the lungs through the larynx, tensioning and controlling the vocal hands, and thus setting in motion a volume of air which is modified by the resonance chambers, and which, vibrating on the tympanum of the ear, is called sound. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS All great powers are elusive and are not susceptible of measurement. Rules can be presented for the cultivation of the voice, but they will of necessity be varied again and again as experience demands. The artist adds a dash of color, he knows not why, but is pleased with the effect, so we must add to and take from rules when their absolute observance would not satisfy the cultured ear. The principles here set forth are not intended to be absolute, but rather suggestive. They are the result of years of experience, and it is believed that they .will be helpful. It is impossible to reduce to writing what can be fully explained by the teacher, and there are mechanical diffi- culties that cannot be overcome by the printer's art, as no symbols can express the exact qualities in the tones of the speaking voice. The reader and student are fur- nished with a number of exercises which are the result of much careful thought, and the value of which has been tested by many pupils. Each branch of the subject is considered under a separate head for the sake of convenience. The pupil or teacher will find it profitable to select portions of different exer- cises for each lesson, rather than to proceed chapter by 22 ADVANCED ELOCUTION chapter. These exercises may be varied in many ways for the sake of freshness or fullness, and many new ones may be prepared. Of the exercises presented each, it is believed, has a value. When old material is used it is retained because of its worth. Many well-known principles may greet the student in a new, and, it is hopedj a more attractive guise. Whatever new material is added is not as an experiment ; but because its utility has been proved. No cuts or diagrams are employed to illustrate the use of the vocal organs. The student who wishes to under- stand fully their mechanism will find the subject more comprehensively treated in works on anatomy and physi- ology than is possible here. The cultivation of voice should begin with the vowel sounds, in which sounds it may be studied apart from the other elements of the words. The beauty of a language con- sists chiefly in the utterance of its vowels. The consonants are but little influenced by pitch, inflection, force, and time. Any movement that may be made in the utterance of a word can be made with the vowels, and upon the correct utterance of these few sounds the control of voice will chiefly depend. VOCAL GYMNASTICS The student should assume an erect position ; shoulders and hips back, head in line, chest easily expanded. The position should not be stiff. Keep the lungs easily inflated. The whole body must be active. Endeav'or to conceive each sound accurately before its utterance, and direct the attention toward giving each sound exactly as required, and then determine to improve with each exercise. VOCAL GYMNASTICS 23 Careless or indifferent practice is worthless. Remember that the ability to conceive sounds is developed along with their utterance. VOCAL CHART The vocal chart on the two following pages is not in- tended to be complete, but merely suggestive. The variety of voice movement is almost endless. Many of these exer- cises are extremes. The object in practicing them is to render the voice pure and to break up monotony. Three principles are rej^resented, Pitch, Stress (or force), and Directions of Movement (musical and inflected notes). With these as a basis, every student may construct a chart. Directions for Chart, Part J, j^a^/c 2^. X. — Commence with the line marked X and sing the musical note Do, holding the note about four seconds. Repeat, holding the note about two seconds. Repeat, holding through one second. Repeat, making a quick, smooth, rounded sound. Remove the d, leaving o, and repeat as before. Take the vowels a, e, i, o, u, and go through the same exercise with each. Pronounce the five vowel sounds, giving each a quick rounded sound, making a musical note as in singing. 1, Next take the line marked with figure 1 and repeat the five vowel sounds as above on the musical notes. Pronounce firmly the word no. Remove the n, leaving o. Repeat o with the same movement. Give the five vowel sounds with the falling inflection. Pronounce the word eh ? as a question. This gives a sound resembling long a. Repeat the vowels on this inflection. Give the complete exercise on high, medium, and low pitches. 24 ADVANCED ELOCUTION VOCAL CHART.— PART I ''^^•'''wwx /9at <_ •► n y «y.»^».-«A^««»< A B VOCAL GYMNASTICS VOCAL CHART.--PART II 25 ^^re- antepenult. Many words that are written as monosyllables are pro- nounced as dissyllables. This arises from the fact that the sounds which necessitate the two vocal impulses will not combine with sufficient closeness to permit their utterance with a single impulse. The words ouVj hour, soitr, flour are spoken with two impulses as certainly, as cower, dower, tower, flower. The words chasm, spasm, prism, have as many vocal syllables as cousin, basin, prison. Even in such words as elm, helm, film, culm, in which the / and m unite much more closely, the uncultivated are apt to interpose a vowel in order to secure greater ease of utterance, hence we fre- quently hear these words pronounced, ellum, helium, etc. The uneducated, and even many among the cultivated classes of society, are apt to omit syllables that should be sounded. Ev''ry for every, hisHry for history, several for several, memory for memory, famHy for family, illustrate a class of errors that abound in nearly every community. AVhile it is possible to find such extravagances of pronun- ciation as Dickens so happily caricatures in his '■''Martin Chuzzlewit,''' the opposite fault of slighting and omitting syllables is much more common. VERBAL EXPRESSION 137 One of the most charming characteristics of instru- mental music is known as " delicacy of touch." Nothing so quickly marks the finished artist. To be able to strike each syllable of a word and each sound of every syllable with due force and give to it its proper character and quantity is as truly a token of cultivated speech as is the other of musical excellence. Words are divided into syllables for the purpose of showing either their pronunciation or their etymological composition. As more persons are interested in the pro- nunciation of words than in their derivation, the syllabi- cation as found in most dictionaries is based upon the orthoepical principle. Every sounded vowel marks a syllable. A word will have at least as many syllables as it has vowel sounds. In-di-vid-u-al-i-ty has seven sounded vowels, and it has, therefore, seven syllables. The vowels e and i are sometimes silent, leaving the consonants of the written syllable to represent the spoken syllable; as e-vHj hri-dl, ba-shi, cous-\ giv-hi. A word may, therefore, have more syllables than it has vowels sounded. Orthoepists differ in opinion concerning the number of syllables in certain classes of words. The vowels e and i are, by some authorities, made silent or they are blended with other vowels. By other authorities they are given separate sounds. Some pronounce such words as glacial^ series, sentient hygiene, tedious, trivial, junior, with three syllables, others pronounce them with two. The close relationship existing between i and y is shown in the words tedious, trivial, junior. When pronounced with two syllables the i changes to y, forming the spoken words ted-yus, triv-yal, jun-yor. In such words as glacial, series, sentient, hygiene, when pronounced with two syllables, the i becomes silent. 138 ADVANCED ELOCUTION ACCENT In the English language every word of more than one syllable is pronounced with a stress of voice, called accent, upon one of its syllables. In words of three or more syl- lables there are usually two accents, one light and the other stronger. The greater stress is called the primary accent ; the lighter, the secondary. In words of six or more syllables there are often found three accents, one strong and the others light. Orthoepists generally mark the two light ac- cents alike and call both secondary. The acute ear will dis- cover that there is frequently a difference in tlie degree of stress or force with which the syllables of lighter accent are struck, so that we would be justified in designating the accented syllables as primary, secondary, and tertiary, and in giving each a distinctive mark. These accents exert considerable influence upon the vocal sounds. In monosyllables and in accented sylla- bles the vowels are uttered with distinctness; in un- accented syllables they are often more or less obscured. The character of the sentiment has also much to do in determining the sharpness or the obscurity of the vowel sounds. In colloquial language they are not only ob- scured, but often lean toward sounds of easier utterance ; in the more dignified forms of discourse the sliarpness of both vowel and consonant sounds is more fully preserved. " Those who wish to pronounce elegantly," as Walker truly remarks, " must be particularly attentive to the unaccented vowels, as a neat pronunciation of these forms one of the greatest beauties of speaking." Nouns of two syllables generally take the accent upon the first; as, almond^ bellows, brigand, caisson, currant, dahlia, decade, expert, falcon, frontier, sachem, orchid, squalor ^ strata, truffle. The ordinary reader or speaker, though ignorant of the VERBAL EXPRESSION 139 above and other general laws of accent, instinctively obeys them. When, therefore, he meets with an exception to the rule, unless he is very familiar with the true pronun- ciation of the word, he is almost certain to mispronounce it. For this reason the exceptions are more important for study than the words falling under the rule. Examples : address, adept^ adult, allies, annex, ascent, bouquet, cabal, con- tour, divan, excess, research, resource, morass, recess, romance, compeer, finance, recourse, routine, grimace, melee, mustache, pretence, pretext, surtout. Adjectives of two syllables, like nouns, take the accent upon the first ; as, currish, diverse, extant, jocund, piquant. Exceptions : canine, expert, robust, verbose, condign, occult, prolix, jocose, rotund, saline, supine. Verbs of two syllables take the accent upon the second ; as, amass, digest, erase, suffice, surname, ferment, purloin. Exceptions : construe, donate, sojourn, preface, ransack, com- ment, gyrate, harass, locate, vacate. In words of three or more syllables, the place of most frequent accent seems to be upon the antepenult. This is called by Walker the favorite accent of the language. Examples : dogmatist, duplicate, earnestness, elliptical, econo- mist, exterminate, simultaneous, ammoniacal, homoeopathy, hypochondria, idiosyncrasy, dicotyledonous, impracticability, monocotyledonous, valetudinarian, incommensurability, unintel- ligibility. The exceptions to this rule are many and various. Words ending in tion, cion, sion, usually take the accent upon the penult ; as, attraction, interjection, coercion, compre- hension, multiplication, personification. Many words of classical origin retain the original accent ; as, acu'men, abdo'men, lyce'um, muse'um, bitu'men, hori'zon^ sonor'ous, deco'rum, athenw'um, mausole'um, parago'ge. Many derivatives retain the accent of the words from which they are derived. From censure we have censur- 140 ADVANCED ELOCUTION ingj censurable; from contribute we have contributor, con- tributory. To tliis rule we also find many exceptions. The above rule for terminations in tion always supersedes the law of derivatives, hence we have contribution, confisca- tion. Such exceptions as the following are also very com- mon : chastisement, comparable, disputable, lamentable, impi- ously, irreparable. In many cases the accent seems to be quite arbitrary. In the following words it is very often misplaced : dej'icit, hos'pitable, for'midable, contumely, des'picable, no'menclature, per'emptory, ex'emplary, con'tumacy, or'thoepy, or'thoepist, ob'ligatory, indis^putable, indis'soluhly, mmiumit', magazine', accli'mated, defalcate, inun'date, excuVpate, inqui'ry, expo'- nent, condo'lence, oppo'nent. DISCRIMINATIVE ACCENT Accent is sometimes employed to discriminate between words of the same spelling, but with a difference in mean- ing or use. In accordance with the rule previousl}^ stated, the noun and adjective forms take the accent on the first syllable and the verb forms on the last. Noun Verb Noun Verb ab'stract abstract' des'ert desert' ac'cent accent' es'cort escort' affix affix' es'say essay' cem'ent cement' ex'port export' col'lect collect' • ex' tract extract' com'pact compact' fer'ment ferment' con'tract contract' fore'cast forecast' con'cert concert' im'port import' con' duct conduct' im'press impress' con' fine confine' in'cense incense' con'sort consort' in'sult insult' con'test contest' ob'ject object' con'vert convert' out'law outlaw' VERBAL EXPRESSION 141 Noun per'fume per'mit pre' fix pres'ent pro'test reb'el rec'ord refuse sub'ject sur'vey tor'ment Verb perfume' permit' prefix' present' protest' rebel' record' refuse' subject' survey' torment' Noun Verb trans'fer transfer' trans' port transport' guiriotine guillotine' quar'antine quarantine' Adjective Verb ab'ject abject' ab'sent absent' fre'quent frequent' pres'ent present' com'pound compound' ANTITHETICAL ACCENT When the accent is transferred from the syllable upon which it properly belongs, to another syllable, in order to show contrast of thought, it is called antithetical or rhetor- ical accent. All literature abounds in these antitheses, so that the reader of even ordinary ability instinctively adapts himself to the change of accent. Examples : He must in'crease but I must de'crease. Pardon our sins of o'mission as well as of com'mission. This corrupt'ible must put on in'corru})tion, and this mor'tal must put on im'- mortality. INFLUENCE OF ACCENT ON THE VOWEL SOUNDS 1. Obscure a. — The vowel a, when it forms or terminates an unaccented sylla])le has the sound of obscure a ; as in a-7nong, bi-na-ry, i-de-a. When the a is followed by an accented vowel it takes a shortened form of long a ; as in a-e'-ri-al, chd-ot'ic. When h follows a in a final unaccented syllable, the vowel takes the sound of obscure a; as in Je- ho-vah, Mes-si-ah. 2. ar. — In the unaccented terminal syllables ar and ard the vowel has the sound of Italian a, slightly obscured. 142 ADVANCED ELOCUTION Some orthoepists give these terminations the sound of iir and urd^ but this places a premium upon slovenliness of pronunciation. The Italian a is easily preserved, and when lightly, yet distinctly, uttered, will not offend the most fastidious ear. Examples : /iar, cellar^ pillar^ collar, dollar J scholar, solar, polar, lunar, regidar, circular, popular, particular, niggard, sluggard, tankard, drunkard, dullard, spikenard, leopard, dotard, dastard, leeward, homeward, stmv- ard, backivard, awkward, coward, froivard, upward, down- ward, forward, vineyard, hazard, lizard, wizard. 3. ate. — In the unaccented final syllable ate, the vowel takes the sound of long a. In verbs of this termination the sharpness of the vowel is fully preserved ; as in vacate, dedicate, calculate, articulate. In nouns and adjectives the long a is more obscure ; as certificate, duplicate, advocate, man- date, agate, frigate, surrogate, opiate, articulate, licentiate, pre- late, chocolate, pirate, primxite, delicate, intricate, roseate, deso- late, idtimate, intimate, fortunate. The distinction between the sharper and the more ob- scure forms of long a is brought out most clearly in the use of the same word ; as in articulate (adjective), articu- late (verb), separate (adjective), separate (verb). It will be observed, too, that the most obscure form of this unaccented termination occurs in nouns and adjec- tives of two syllables ; as in climate, legate, private. This is due to the fact that the syllable of greatest stress is usually followed by that having least stress. In words of more, than two syllables the primary accent frequently occurs on the antepenult or pre-antepenult, so that by the time the terminal syllable is reached, there is a gain in stress almost or quite equal to a secondary accent. The degree of the stress largely determines the sharp- ness or obscurity of the vowel. In the terminal syllable of the words calculate, advocate, duplicate, delicate, chocolate, private, the a represents a series of fine gradations of VEKBAL EXPRESSION 143 sound, apparent to every acute ear. To assign a separate symbol to each of these would greatly mystify the average student, and would so complicate the table of sounds as to impair its utility. Many orthoepists have been perplexed by these obscure vowels, and have adopted various expe- dients to meet the difficulty. The simplest, and perhaps the best method of disposing of the problem is to make the pronunciation conform as nearly as possible to the orthography, uttering the vowel sound with that degree of lightness which the absence of the accent demands. This will preserve the long a in the unaccented terminal syl- lable ate, as in the words just named. It will preserve the Italian a in such words as dollar, nectar, pillar ; it will preserve the coalescent e in such words as mutter, tapir^ nadir, martyr; it will preserve the coalescent o in actor, victor, captor ; and give to coalescent u only such words as sulphur, murmur. 4. e. — The letter e has the same sound in unaccented syllables that it has when under the accent. When it forms or terminates an unaccented syllable it has the sound of long e, given with a shortened quantity and with a light, yet distinct stroke. This sound and that of unac- cented short i afford the finest opportunity for the exercise of that " delicacy of touch," which marks the cultured reader or speaker. Never suffer long e to degenerate into short u, in such words as elegant, appetite, elegy, enemy, so- ciety, genesis, antecedent, Cicero, vertebrate. The sound of short i is sometimes incorrectly substituted for short e in such words as wicked, riches, basket, honest. In French words as e-lite, me-lee, de-but, de-bris, re-gime, pro- te-ge the e takes the sound of long a. The unaccented er should not change to ur in such words as robber, suffer, offer, barber, hatter, vesper, aster, either^ neither. 5. i. — Unaccented i. when it forms or terminates a 144 ADVANCED ELOCUTION syllable, takes the sound of short i, as in dif-fi-dent, wit-ti-h/y hap-pi-ly, pret-ti-ly, mer-ri-ly, I-t(d-ian, in-el-i-gi-ble, un-in- tel-li-gi-bil-i-ty, in-di-vis-i-bil-i-ty. To this rule there are many exceptions. Webster says, " The i is usually long in the initial syl- lables i, bij chi, cliy cri, pri, tri.^^ • To the first of these there are few if any exceptions other than iguana, Italian, italicize, and their derivatives. To the second there are no ex- ceptions among words in ordinary use other than bt-tu'- mea and its derivatives, bX-tu'-min-ous, bi-tu'-min-ate, etc. The word biography is often incorrectly pronounced with short i or long e in the initial syllable. The initial syllable chi is sounded like ki in all words in which r begins the second syllable, as in chlrog'raphy, ch'iroVogy, chVromancy, chlron'omy, chlrop'od'ist, and their derivatives. The initial syllable cli has but few exceptions, the most important of which are cllimacter'ic (or cUmac'- teric), cUmacter' ical, cUnomet'ric. The syllable cri conforms very closely to the rule, as in cr'moid'al, crinoid'ean, crite^- rion, ci'mig'erous, cr'mose'. The word critique is an exception. Tlie initial syllable pri has few if any exceptions, but is oftener mispronounced than most of the others. The sound of long i should be preserved in primacy, primate, primeval, primogeniture, primordial. In accordance with the rule, the sound of long i should be preserved in triassic, tribunal, tricennial, trident' ate, triennial, tri'fid, trifar'cate, trigram'mic, trigyn'ia, trilem'ma, trilo'bate (or tri'lohate), tri'lobite, trilobit'ic, tri'meran, Irimes'ter, trimefrical, trinerv'ate, trinod'al, trio, tripartient, triphyl'lous (or trlph'yllous), triplicity, trisperm'- ous, triter'nate, triumphant, trium'vir. In a few of the above words the accent falls upon the initial syllable, which in itself, would tend to preserve the long i sound. The i of the initial syllable of the following words is short : tri- syllable, trichi'na, trichino' sis, trifugous (or triju'gous), tris- 'planchnic, trigynous. VERBAL EXPRESSION 145 The unaccented terminal i of other initial syllables is often incorrectly sounded. In accordance with the general rule, it should be short, unless there is some special reason to tlie contrary. The following and their derivatives re- quire short i: didactic, dldactyl, digest (verb), digress, di- gression, dilapidate, dilate, dilemma, dilute, dilution, diluvial, dimension, diminish, diploma, direct, directly, divan, diverge, divert, divest, divine, divulge, divide, fidelity, finance, financial, financier, hilarity, minute (adjective), miraculous, piano, piazza, pilaster, tirade, virago, vituperate, vivacious. The following, contrary to the general rule, require long i : divaricate, sinecure, siren, tiny, dioptrics, diurnal, dieeresls, diocesan. 6. o. — The letter o, when it forms or terminates an un- accented syllable has its regular long o sound, often shortened by the omission of the oo vanish, as in hero, motto, crocodile, syllogism, volcano. 7. u. — The letter u, when it forms or terminates an un- accented syllable takes its regular long u sound, frequently modified by its surroundings. When it forms a syllable and the preceding syllable ends with r, as in er-u-di-tion, vlr-n-lcnt, orthoepists differ concerning the vowel sound. The r is too potential to suffer its influence to be bounded by a syllable or stayed by a hyphen. It is safe, therefore, to assume that the vowel sound should be long oo, just as in rude, brute, crude, in which r precedes u in the same syl- lable. 8. y. — The letter y, when a vowel, takes the sound of t, and is subject to all the laws governing that letter. When it forms or terminates an unaccented syllable, it becomes sliort i, as in a-nal'-y-sis, syn-on' -y-my , a-poc' -ry-pha, ap'-a-thy, pit'-y. In the unaccented final syllable/?/ of verl:)s it has the sound of long i ; as in gratify, testify, ratify. In other terminal syllables of verbs it also takes the sound of long i ; as in multiply, occupy, prophesy. It will be observed that, 10 146 ADVANCED ELOCUTION although the dictionaries place no accent upon the ter- minal syllables in the above verbs, yet they actually possess a strongly marked secondary accent. 9. ei. — The unaccented vowel digraph ei has the sound of short i; as in for ei ^|> ^L^ ^IV Sif Then the Queen drew the dagger from her waist, A knife of watered steel, hafted with jade, And on the hilt a ruby worth three lakhs. Pigeon-blood color, marvelous, the gift Of Shah Jahan in some soft hour of love — An unmatched stone. And, when they looked to see The keen point pierce the satin skin Stripped of its veil — Arjamand stooped and placed The dagger-blade beneath her sandal, snapped The bright steel short, and, drawing near to hers That Rajpoot's face, kissed tenderly her mouth, And gravely spoke : " Go ! thou hast given me The richest, best, last gift Avhich earth could give In comfort of my great Lord's constancy. Take thou this jewel of my dagger. Friend ! — Nowise its point ! — and a Queen's thanks therewith For treason dearly done to Arjamand !" Edwin Arnold. THE ASTRONOMER'S VISION. GOD called up from dreams a man into the vestibule of heaven, saying, "Come thou hither and see the glory of my house." And to the servants that stood around His throne He said, " Take him, and undress him from his robes of flesh : cleanse his vision, and put a new breath into his nostrils: only touch not with any change his human heart — the heart that weeps and trembles." It was done : and, with a mighty angel for his guide, the man stood ready for his infinite voyage; and from the terraces of heaven, without sound or farewell, at once 19 . 290 ADVANCED ELOCUTION they wheeled away into endless space. Sometimes with the solemn flight of angel wing they fled through infinite realms of darkness, through wildernesses of death, that divided the Avorlds of life; sometimes they swept over frontiers that were quickening under prophetic motions from God. Then, from a distance that is counted only in heaven, light dawned for a time through a sleepy film ; by unut- terable pace, the light swept to them, they, by unutterable pace, to the light. In a moment, the rushing of planets was upon them : in a moment, the blazing of suns was around them. Then came eternities of twilight, that revealed, but were not revealed. On the right hand and on the left toward mighty constellations, that by self-repetitions and answers from afar, that by counter-positions, built up triumphal gates, whose architraves, whose archways — horizontal, upright — rested, rose at altitude, by spans that seemed ghostly from infinitude. Without measure were the architraves, past number were the archways, beyond memory the gates. Within were stairs that scaled the eternities below; above was below — below was above, to the man stripped of gravitating body : depth was swallowed up in height insurmountable, height was swallowed up in depth un- fathomable. Suddenly, as thus they rode from infinite to infinite, suddenly, as thus they tilted over abysmal worlds, a mighty cry arose — that systems more mysterious, that worlds more billowy — other heights and other depths — were coming, were nearing, were at hand. Then the man sighed, and stooped, shuddered, and wept. His overladen heart uttered itself in tears, and he said : " Angel, I will go no farther. For the spirit of man acheth with this infinity. Insufferable is the glory of God. Let me lie down in the grave and hide me from THE SONG OF THE LOTUS-EATERS 291 the prosecution of the infinite ; for end, I see, there is none." And from all the listening stars that shone around issued a choral voice : " The man speaks truly : end there is none, that ever yet we heard of." " End is there none ?" the angel solemnly demanded. " Is there indeed no end ? — and is this the sorrow that kills you ?" But no voice answered, that he might answer himself. Then the angel threw up his glorious hands to the heaven of heavens, saying, " End is there none to the universe of God. Lo ! also, there is no beginning." Translated by Prof. Mitchell. THE SONG OF THE LOTUS-EATERS. (The lotus of the lotus-eaters is probably a tree found in Northern Africa, the fruit of which is mildly sweet. It was fabled by the ancients, to make strangers who ate of it forget their native country, or lose all desire to return to it, and to give themselves up to pleasure-seeking.) THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass. Or night dews on still waters between Avails Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass ; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes ; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And through the moss the ivies creep. And in the stream the long leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep. Propt on beds of amaranth and moly. How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) With half-dropt eyelids still, 292 ADVANCED ELOCUTION Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill — To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave through the thick-twined vine — To watch the emerald- colored water falling Through many a woven acanthus- wreath divine ! Only to hear and see the far off sparkling brine, Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine. The Lotus blooms below the barren peak ; The Lotus blows by every winding creek ; All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone; Through every hollow cave and alley lone, Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus dust is blown. We have had enough of action, and of motion we, Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, In the hollow Lotus-land to live and lie reclined On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled wdth the gleaming world ; Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, Bliglit and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands. Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands. NATURE DESIGNED FOR OUR ENJOYMENT 293 But they smile ; they find a music centered in a doleful song Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong, Like a tale of little meaning, though the words are strong ; Chanted from a race of ill-used men that cleave the soil, Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil. Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine, and oil. Till they perish and they suffer — some, 'tis whispered — down in hell Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel. Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar ; O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more. Alfred Tennyson. NATURE DESIGNED FOR OUR ENJOYMENT. From •• Lectures to Young Men," by permission of Messrs. Fords, Howard & Hulbert, New York. THE necessity of amusement is admitted on all hands. There is an appetite of the eye, of the ear, and of every sense, for which God has provided the material. Gayety of every degree, this side of puerile levity, is wholesome to the body, to the mind, and to the morals. Nature is a vast repository of manly enjoyments. The magnitude of God's works is not less admirable than its exhilarating beauty. The rudest forms have something of beauty ; the ruggedest strength is graced with some charm ; the very pins and rivets and clasps of nature are attractive by qualities of beauty, more than is necessary for mere utility. The sun could go down Avithout gorgeous clouds ; evening could advance without its evanescent brilliance ; trees might have flourished without symmetry ; flowers have existed without odor, and fruit without flavor. When 294 ADVANCED ELOCUTION I have journeyed through forests, where ten thousand shrubs and vines exist without apparent use; through prairies, whose undulations exhibit sheets of flowers in- numerable, and absolutely dazzling the eye with their prodigality of beauty — beauty, not a tithe of which is ever seen by man — I have said, it is plain that God is Himself passionately fond of beauty, and the earth is His garden, as an acre is man's. God has made us like Him- self, to be pleased by the universal beauty of the world. He has made provision in nature, in society, and in the family, for amusement and exhilaration enough to fill the heart with the perpetual sunshine of delight. Upon this broad earth, purfled with flowers, scented with odors, brilliant in colors, vocal with echoing and re- echoing melody, I take my stand against all demoralizing pleasure. Is it not enough that our Father's house is sc full of dear delights, that we must wander prodigal to the swine-herd for husks, and to the slough for drink ? — when the trees of God's heritage bend over our head and solicit our hand to pluck the golden fruitage, must we still go in search of the apples of Sodom, outside fair and inside ashes ? Men shall crowd to the circus to hear clowns, and see rare feats of horsemanship, but a bird may poise beneath the very sun, or flying downward, swoop from the high heaven ; then flit with graceful ease hither and thither, pouring liquid song as if it were a perennial fountain of sound — no man cares for that. Upon the stage of life, the vastest tragedies are perform- ing in every act; nations pitching headlong to their final catastrophe ; others, raising their youthful forms to begin the drama of existence. The world of society is as full of exciting interest as nature is full of beauty. The great dramatic throng of life is bustling along — the wise, the fool, the clown, the miser, the bereaved, the broken- AFTER WHILES 296 hearted. Life mingles before us smiles and tears, sighs and laughter, joy and gloom, as the spring mingles the winter storm and summer sunshine. To this vast Theatre which God hath builded, where stranger plays are seen than ever author writ, man seldom cares to come. When God dramatizes, when nations act, or all the human kind conspire to educe the vast catastrophe, men sleep and snore, and let the busy scene go on, unlooked, unthought upon. ... It is my object then, not to withdraw the young from pleasure, but from unworthy pleasures ; not to lessen their enjoyments, but to increase them, by reject- ing the counterfeit and the vile. Henry Ward Beecher. AFTERWHILES. Pennission of The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis, Ind. WHERE are they— the Afterwhiles— Luring us the lengthening miles Of our lives ? Where is the dawn With the dew across the lawn Stroked with eager feet the far Way the hills and valleys are ? Where the sun that smites the frown Of the eastward-gazer down ? Where the rifted wreaths of mist O'er us, tinged with amethyst, Round the mountain's deep defiles ? Where are all the afterwhiles ? Afterwhile — and we will go Thither, yon, and to and fro — From the stifling city-streets To the country's cool retreats — 294 ADVANCED ELOCUTION I have journeyed through forests, where ten thousand shrubs and vines exist without apparent use; through prairies, whose undulations exhibit sheets of flowers in- numerable, and absolutely dazzling the eye with their prodigality of beauty — beauty, not a tithe of which is ever seen by man — I have said, it is plain that God is Himself passionately fond of beauty, and the earth is His garden, as an acre is man's. God has made us like Him- self, to be pleased by the universal beauty of the world. He has made provision in nature, in society, and in the family, for amusement and exhilaration enough to fill the heart with the perpetual sunshine of delight. Upon this broad earth, purfled with flowers, scented with odors, brilliant in colors, vocal with echoing and re- echoing melody, I take my stand against all demoralizing pleasure. Is it not enough that our Father's house is sc full of dear delights, that we must wander prodigal to the swine-herd for husks, and to the slough for drink ? — when the trees of God's heritage bend over our head and solicit our hand to pluck the golden fruitage, must we still go in search of the apples of Sodom, outside fair and inside ashes ? Men shall crowd to the circus to hear clowns, and see rare feats of horsemanship, but a bird may poise beneath the very sun, or flying downward, swoop from the high heaven ; then flit with graceful ease hither and thither, pouring liquid song as if it were a perennial fountain of sound — no man cares for that. Upon the stage of life, the vastest tragedies are perform- ing in every act; nations pitching headlong to their final catastrophe ; others, raising their youthful forms to begin the drama of existence. The world of society is as full of exciting interest as nature is full of beauty. The great dramatic throng of life is bustling along — the wise, the fool, the clown, the miser, the bereaved, the broken- AFTERWHILES 295 hearted. Life mingles before us smiles and tears, sighs and laughter, joy and gloom, as the spring mingles the winter storm and summer sunshine. To this vast Theatre which God hath builded, where stranger plays are seen than ever author writ, man seldom cares to come. When God dramatizes, when nations act, or all the human kind conspire to educe the vast catastrophe, men sleep and snore, and let the busy scene go on, unlooked, unthought upon. ... It is my object then, not to withdraw the young from pleasure, but from unworthy pleasures ; not to lessen their enjoyments, but to increase them, by reject- ing the counterfeit and the vile. Henry Ward Beecher. AFTERWHILES. Permission of The Bowen-Merrill Compatiy, Indianapolis, Ind. WHERE are they— the Afterwhiles— Luring us the lengthening miles Of our lives ? Where is the dawn With the dew across the lawn Stroked with eager feet the far Way the hills and valleys are ? Where the sun that smites the frown Of the eastward-gazer down ? Where the rifted wreaths of mist O'er us, tinged with amethyst. Round the mountain's deep defiles ? Where are all the afterwhiles ? Afterwhile — and we will go Thither, yon, and to and fro — From the stifling city-streets To the country's cool retreats — ADVANCED ELOCUTION From the riot to the rest Where hearts beat the placidest; Afterwhile, and we will fall Under breezy trees, and loll In the shade, with thirsty sight Drinking deep the blue delight Of the skies that will beguile Us as children — afterwhile. Afterwhile — and one intends To be gentler to his friends — To walk with them, in the hush Of still evenings, o'er the plush Of home-leading fields, and stand Long at parting, hand in hand : One, in time, will joy to take New resolves for some one's sake, And wear then the look that lies Clear and pure in other eyes — He will soothe and reconcile His own conscience — afterwhile. Afterwhile — we have in view A far scene to journey to, — Where the old home is, and where The old mother waits us there. Peering, as the time grows late, Down the old path to the gate. How we'll click the latch that locks In the pinks and hollyhocks. And leap up the path once more Where she waits us at the door ! How we'll greet the dear old smile, And the warm tears — afterwhile! A VISIT TO BELLE YARD 297 Ah, the endless afterwhiles ! Leagues on leagues, and miles on miles, In the distance far withdrawn, Stretching on, and on, and on, Till the fancy is footsore And faints in the dust before The last milestone's granite face, Hacked with : Here Beginneth Space. far glimmering worlds and wings, Mystic smiles and beckonings, Lead us, through the shadowy aisles Out into the afterwhiles. James Whitcomb Riley. A VISIT TO BELLE YARD. From " Bleak House." (Adapted.) WHILE my guardian and I were in London we were constantly beset by home missionaries to visit Belle Yard, a narrow alley some distance from our hotel, so one bright morning we repaired thither. We soon found the chandler's shop. In it was a good- natured looking old woman with a dropsy or an asthma, or perhaps both. " Neckett's children ?" said she, in reply to my inquiries. " Yes, surely, Miss. Up three pair, if you please. Door riglit opposite the stairs," and she handed me the key across the counter. I glanced at the key and glanced at her ; but slie took it for granted that I knew what to do with it. As it could only be intended for the children's door, I came out with- out asking any more questions and led the way up the dark stairs. We went to the top room ; I tapped on the 298 ADVANCED ELOCUTION door, and a little shrill voice inside said : " We are locked in. Mrs. Blinder's got the key !" I applied the key on hearing this and opened the door. In a poor room, with a sloping ceiling, and containing very little furniture, was a mite of a boy, some five or six years old, nursing and hushing a heavy child of eighteen months. There was no fire, though the weather was cold ; both children were wrapped in some poor shawls and tip- pets as a substitute. Their clothing was not so warm, however, but that their noses looked red and pinched and their small figures shrunken, as the boy walked up and down, nursing and hushing the child with its head on his shoulder. "Who has locked you up here alone?" we naturally asked. " Charley," said the boy, still gazing at us. " Is Charley your brother ?" " No ; she's my sister Charlotte. Father called her Charley." " Are there any more of you beside Charley ?" "Me," said the boy, "and Emma," patting the limp bonnet of the child he was nursing, " and Charley — she's out a- washing." We were looking at each other and these two children, when there came into the room a very little girl, childish in figure, but shrewd and older looking in the face — pretty faced, too — wearing a womanly sort of bonnet much too large for her, and drying her bare arms on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were white and wrinkled with wash- ing, and the soapsuds, which she wiped off her arms, w^ere yet smoking. She had come running from some place in the neighborhood and had made all the haste she could. " Oh ! here's Charley," said the boy. The child he was nursing stretched forth its arms and cried to be taken by A VISIT TO BELLE YARD 299 Charley. The little girl took it in a womanly sort of man- ner belonging to the apron and bonnet, and stood looking at us over the burden that clung to her most affection- ately. " Is it possible," whispered my guardian, as we put a chair for the little creature, " that this child takes care of and works for the rest ? Look at this ! For Heaven's sake, look at this !" It was a thing to look at. The three children, close together, and two of them relying on the third, and the third so young and yet with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the childish figure. " Charley," said my guardian, " how old are you ?" " Over thirteen, sir," replied the child. " What a great age !" said my guardian ; " what a great age ! And do you live here alone with these babies ? How do you live ?" " Yes, sir," replied the child, looking up into his face with perfect confidence ; " since father died. I go out to work. I'm a-washing to-day." " And when did your mother die ? Poor mother !" " Mother died just after Emma was born," said the child, glancing at the face upon her bosom. " Then father said I was to be as good a mother to her as I could. And so I tried and worked at home. And that's how I know how. Don't you see, sir?" " And do you often go out and lock the babies up ?" " Yes, as often as I can. I lock the door to keep 'em safe. Tom ain't afraid of being locked up, are you, Tom ?" " No-o," said Tom, stoutly. " Then he's as good as gold," said the little creature. " And when Emma is tired he puts her to bed, and when he gets tired he goes to bed, too. And when I come home and light the candle and has a bit of supper, he gets up again and has it with me. Don't you, Tom ?" 300 ADVANCED ELOCUTION " Oh, yes ! Charley," said Tom ; " that I do !" and either in this glimpse of the great pleasure of his life or in grati- tude and love for Charley, who was all in all to him, he laid his face among the scanty folds of her frock and passed from laughing into crying. It was the first time since our entrance that a tear had been shed among these children. The little orphan girl had spoken of their father and mother as if all that sorrow were subdued by the necessity of taking courage, and by her childish importance in being able to work and by her busy, bustling way. But now, when Tom cried, although she sat quite tranquil, looking quietly at us, and did not by any movement disturb a hair of the liead of either of her charges, I saw two silent tears fall down her face. I stood at the window pretending to gaze at the house tops when Mrs. Blinder came up. My guardian and she had a long talk about the little folks, and the former took it upon himself to see that their condition in the future should be different. We kissed Charley and took her down-stairs with us and stopped outside the house to see her run away to her work. I don't know where she was going, but we saw her run, such a little, little creature in a womanly bonnet and apron, througli a covered way at the bottom of the court, and melt into the city's strife and sound, like a dew- drop in an ocean. Charles Dickens. FREEDOM'S AHEAD. NOW that Tom Dunstan's cold, Our shop is duller; Scarce a story is told ! And our chat has lost the old Red republican color ! freedom's ahead 301 Though he was sickly and thin, He gladdened us with his face. How, warming at rich man's sin, With bang of the fist, and chin Thrust out, he argued the case ! He prophesied folk should be free, • And the money-bags be bled ; — "She's coming, she's coming!" said he; " Courage, boys ! Wait and see ! Freedom's ahead !" All day we sat in the heat, Like spiders spinning. Stitching full, fine, and fleet. While the old Jew on his seat Sat greasily grinning ; And there Tom said his say. And prophesied Tyranny's death ; And the tallow burnt all day. And we stitched and stitched away In the thick smoke of our breath, Wearily, wearily, so wearily With hearts as heavy as lead ; — But, '^ Patience ! she's coming !" said he; " Courage, boys ! Wait and see I Freedom's ahead !" And at night when we took here The pause allowed to us. The paper came with the beer And Tom read, sharp and clear, The news out loud to us. And then in his witty way He threw the jest about. 302 ADVANCED ELOCUTION The cutting things he'd say Of the wealthy and the gay ! How he turned them inside out I And it made our breath more free To hearken to what he said ; — " She's coming, she's coming !" says he; " Courage, boys ! Wait and see I Freedom's ahead !" But grim Jack Hart, with a sneer, Would mutter, " Master ! If Freedom means to appear, I think she might step here A little faster !" Then it was fine to see Tom flame And argue and prove and preach, Till Jack was silent for shame, Or a fit of coughing came 0' sudden to spoil Tom's speech. Ah ! Tom had the eyes to see When Tyranny should be sped ; — " She's coming, she's coming !" said he ; " Courage, boys ! Wait and see ! Freedom's ahead !" But Tom was little and weak ; The hard hours shook him ; Hollo wer grew his cheek, And when he began to speak The coughing took him. Ere long the cheery sound Of his chat among us ceased. And we made a purse all round That he might not starve, at least. 303 His pain was sorry to see, Yet there — on his poor sick-bed, " She's coming in spite of me ! Courage and wait," cried he, " Freedom's ahead !" A little before he died, Just to see his passion I " Bring me a paper !" he cried, And then to study it tried In his old sharp fashion ; And with eyeballs glittering. His look on me he bent, And said that savage thing Of the lords of the Parliament, Then darkening, smiling on me, " What matter if one be dead ? She's coming, at least," said he ; " Courage, boys ! Wait and see ! Freedom's ahead !" And now Tom Dunstan's cold The shop feels duller ; Scarce a story is told ; Our talk has lost the old Red republican color ! But we see a figure gray, And we hear a voice of death. And the tallow burns all day, And we stitch and stitch away, In the thick smoke of our breath ; Ay, here in the dark sit we, While wearily, wearily, We hear him call from the dead : 304 ADVANCED ELOCUTION " She's coming, she's coming," says he, " Freedom's ahead ! How long, Lord, how long Doth Thy handmaid linger ? She who shall right the wrong — ■ Make the oppressed strong — Sweet morrow, bring her ! Hasten her over the sea, O Lord, ere hope be fled ; Bring her to men and to me ; O slave, pray still on thy knee For the freedom ahead ! Robert Buchanan. OUR FALLEN HEROES. THE distinction of our volunteer army over all other armies of all times was its intelligence. Behind every musket was a thinking man. On the march, around the camp fire, in the hospital and the prison, and in letters to friends at home, these men discussed tlie issues at stake and the results that would follow defeat or victory with as much statesmanship and prophetic fore- sight as their representatives in Congress. Of the million volunteer soldiers, thousands were fitted by culture, ability, and character to be Presidents of the United States. Latour d'Auvergne was a grenadier of Naj^oleon's Old Guard. Bravest of the brave on every battle-field, he was tendered for distinguished services a sword bearing this inscription, " To the first grenadier of France ;" but he re- fused it, saying, "Among us soldiers there is neither first nor last." Constantly declining promotion, and ever win- ning fresh laurels, he fell fighting gloriously for his coun- OUR FALLEN HEROES 305 try, and an imperial decree gave him a distinction never enjoyed by the proudest marshal of the empire. His name continued on the roll of his company, and when it was called the oldest sergeant answered, " Died on the field of honor." And this year and the next, and for the next decade, and centuries after, on the anniversary of this Decoration Day, when the roll-call in every churchyard and village cemetery of the men Avho died in the conflict is read, the answer of a grateful people will be, " Died upon the field of honor." There is an old epitaph in an English churchyard which quaintly says that " he who saves, loses ; he who spends, saves ; and he who gives away, takes it with him." These men gave away their lives, and took with them immortal glory and the gratitude of endless generations. They may repose in unknown graves south of the Potomac, or sleep beneath the sea, and yet theirs is a deathless fame. Poetry and eloquence will embalm their memories, and keep ever bright the recollection of their heroic deeds. " They never fail who die In a great cause. The block may soak their gore ; Their heads may sodden in the sun, their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls ; But still their spirit walks a])road. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom. They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to freedom." Chauncey M. Depew. 20 306 ADVANCED ELOCUTION WHY THEY TWINKLE. Permission of " Tho Outlook," New York. WHEN Eve had led her lord away, And Cain had killed his brother, The stars and flowers, the poets say, Agreed with one another To cheat the cunning tempter's art And teach the race its duty, By keeping on its wicked heart Their eyes of light and beauty. A million sleepless lids, they say, Will be at least a warning — And so the flowers would watch by day, The stars from eve to morning. On hill and prairie, field and lawn. Their dewy eyes upturning, The flowers still watch from reddening dawn Till western skies are burning. Alas ! each hour of daylight tells A tale of shame so crushing. That some turn white as sea-bleached shells, And some are always blushing. But when the patient stars look down On all their light discovers — The traitor's smile, the murderer's frown. The lips of lying lovers — A TRIBUTE TO MOTHERHOOD 307 They try to shut their saddening eyes, And in the vain endeavor We see them twinkling in the skies, And so they wink forever. Oliver Wendell Holmes. A TRIBUTE TO MOTHERHOOD. (From ♦' The Princess.") ALONE, from earlier than I know, Immersed in rich foreshadowings of the world, I loved the woman ; he, that doth not, lives A drowning life, besotted in sweet self. Or pines in sad experience worse than death. Or keeps his wing'd affections dipt with crime : Yet was there one thro' whom I loved her, one Not learned, save in gracious household ways, Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, No Angel, but a dearer being, all dipt In Angel instincts, breathing Paradise, Interpreter between the Gods and men, Who look'd all native to her place, and yet On tiptoe seem'd to touch upon a sphere Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce Sway'd to her from their orbits as they moved And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! Faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay. Tennyson. 308 ADVANCED ELOCUTION THE DESPONDENT INVENTOR (XVI CENTURY). (From the " Last of the Barons.") AWFUL is the duel between Man and the Age in which he lives ! For the gain of posterity this inventor, Adam Warner, had martyrized existence — and the children had pelted him as he passed along the streets ! . . . Again he paced restlessly to and fro the narrow floor of his room. At last he approached the Model — the model of a mighty and stupendous invention ; the fruit of no chi- merical and visionary science — a great Promethean Thing, that, once matured, would divide the Old World from the New, enter into all operations of Labor, animate all the future affairs, color all the practical doctrines, of active men. He paused before it, and addressed it as if it heard and understood him : " My hair was dark, and my tread was firm, when one night, a Thought passed into my soul — a thought to make Matter the gigantic slave of Mind. Out of this thought, thou, not yet born after five- and-twenty years of travail, wert conceived. My coffers were then full, and my name honored ; and the rich re- spected and the poor loved me. Art thou a devil, that has tempted me to ruin ; or a god that has lifted me above the earth ? I am <5^1d before my time — my hair is blanched, my frame is bowed, my wealth is gone, my name is sullied. And all, dumb Idol of Iron and the Element, all for thee! I had a wife whom I adored — she died ; I forgot her loss in the hope of th}^ life. I have a child still — God forgive me — she is less dear to me than thou hast been. And now — " the old man ceased abruptly, and folding his arms, looked at the deaf iron sternly, as on a human foe. By his side was a huge hammer, employed in the toils of his forge ; suddenly he seized and swung it aloft. One blow, and the labor of years was shattered THE GOOD OF IT 309 into pieces ! One blow ! — But the heart failed him, and the hammer fell heavily to the ground. " Ay !" he muttered, " true — true ; if thou, who hast de- stroyed all else, wert destroyed too, what were left me ? Is it a crime to murder Man? — a greater crime to murder Thought, which is the life of all men. Come — I forgive thee !" And all that day, and all that night, the Enthusiast labored in his chamber, and the next day the remem- brance of the hootings, the pelting, the mob, was gone — clean gone from his breast. The Model began to move — life hovered over its wheels, and the Martyr of Science had forgotten the very world for which he, groaning and re- joicing, toiled ! E. Bulwer Lytton. THE GOOD OF IT. (a cynic's song.) SOME men strut proudly, all purple and gold. Hiding queer deeds 'neath a cloak of good fame ; I creep along braving hunger and cold To keep my heart stainless as well as my name. So, so, where is the good of it ? Some clothe bare Truth in fine garments of words, Fetter her free limbs with cumbersome state. With me, let me sit at the lordliest boards, " I love " means, I love ; and " I hate " means, I hate. But, but, where is the good of it ? Some have rich dainties and costly attire. Guests fluttering round them and duns at the door. I crouch alone at my plain board and fire. Enjoy what I pay for and scorn to have more. Yet, yet, what is the good of it ? 310 ADVANCED ELOCUTION Some gather round them a phalanx of friends, Scattering affection like coin in a crowd. I keep my heart for the few Heaven sends, Where they'll find my name writ when I lie in my shroud. Still, still, where is the good of it ? Some toy with love ; lightly come, lightly go ; A blithe game at hearts, little worth, little cost. I staked my whole soul on one desperate throw, A life 'gainst an hour's sport. We played and I lost. Ha, ha, such was the good of it ! MORAL, ADDED ON HIS DEATH-BED. Turn the past's mirror backward ; its shadows removed. The dim, confused mass becomes softened, sublime ; I have worked, I have felt, I have lived, I have loved. And each was a step towards the goal I now climb. Thou, God, Thou sawest the good of it! Dinah Mulock Craik. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN. IN a coign of the cliff, between lowland and highland. At the sea-down's edge, between windward and lea, Wall'd round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts to the sea. A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The steep, square slope of the blossomless bed, Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses, Now lie dead. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN 311 The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken, To the low, last edge of the long lone land. If a step should sound, or a word be spoken. Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand ? So long have the gray, bare walks lain guestless. Through branches and briars if a man make way, He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless Night and day. The dense, hard passage is blind and stifled, That crawls by a track none turn to climb To the strait, waste place that the years have rifled Of all but the thorns that are touched not of time. The thorns he spares when the rose is taken ; The rocks are left when he wastes the plain. The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken. These remain. Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not ; As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry : From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not, Could she call, there were never a rose to reply. Over the meadows that blossom and wither Rings but the note of the sea-bird's song : Only the sun and the rain come hither All year long. The sun bums sere and the rain dishevels One gaunt, bleak blossom of scentless breath ; Only the wind hete hovers and revels In a sound where life seems barren as death. Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping, Haply, of lovers none ever will know, Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping Years ago. ^* *p 'n ^ ^h •!• 312 . ADVANCED ELOCUTION All are as one now, roses and lovers, Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea. Not a breath of the time that has been, hovers In the air now soft of a summer to be. Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter, Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now and weep, When, as they that are free now of weeping and laughter, We shall sleep. Here death may deal not again forever : Here change may come not till all change end. From the graves they have made they shall rise up never, Who have left nought living to ravage and rend. Earth, stones and thorns of the wild-ground growing. When the sun and the rain live, these shall be Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing Roll the sea. Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crum1)les. Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink. Till the strength of the waves of the high-tides humble The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink. Here now in his triumph when all things falter ; Stretch'd out on the spoils that his own hand spread. As a god self-slain on his own strange altar. Death lies dead. Algernon Charles Swinburne. THE GOOD SON. THERE is no virtue without a characteristic beauty to make it particularly loved of the good, and to make the bad ashamed of their neglect of it. To do what is right, argues superior taste as well as morals ; and those whose practice is evil feel an inferiority of intellectual power and enjoyment, even where they take no concern for a principle. THE GOOD SON 313 Doing well has something more in it than the fulfilling of a duty. It is a cause of a just sense of elevation of char- acter ; it clears and strengthens the spirits ; it gives higher reaches of thought ; it widens our benevolence, and makes the current of our peculiar affections swift and deep. No creature in the world has this character so finely marked in him as a respectful and affectionate son — par- ticularly in his relation to his mother. Every little atten- tion he pays her is not only an expression of filial attach- ment and a grateful acknowledgment of past cares, but is an evidence of a tenderness of disposition which moves us the more, because not looked on so much as an essen- tial property in a man's character, as an added grace, which is bestowed only upon a few. His regards do not appear like mere habits of duty, nor does his watchfulness of his mother's wishes seem like taught submission to her win. They are the native courtesies of a feeling mind, show- ing themselves amidst stern virtues and masculine energies, like gleams of light on points of rocks. They are delight- ful as evidences of power yielding voluntary homage to the delicacy of the soul. The armed knee is bent, and the heart of the mailed man laid bare. Feelings that would seem to be at variance with each other meet together and harmonize in tlie breast of a son. Every call of the mother which he answers to, and every act of submission which he performs, are not only so many acknowledgments of her authority, but also so many instances of kindness and marks of protecting regard. The servant and defender, the child and guardian, are all mingled in him. The world looks on him in this way ; and to draw upon a man the confidence, the respect, and the love of the world, it is enough to say of him, he is an excellent son. R. H. Dana. 314 ADVANCED ELOCUTION ANCIENT GREEK CHANT OF VICTORY. 10 ! they come, they come ! Garlands for every shrine ! Strike lyres to greet them home ; Bring roses, pour ye wine ! Swell, swell the Dorian flute Through the blue triumphant sky ! Let the cittern's tone salute The sons of victory. With the offering of bright blood They have ransomed hearth and tomb, Vineyard, and field, and flood ; lo ! they come, they come ! Sing it where olives wave. And by the glittering sea, And o'er each hero's grave — Sing, sing, the land is free I Mark ye the flashing oars. And the spears that light the deep ? How the festal sunshine pours Where the lords of battle sweep ! Each hath brought back his shield ; — Maid, greet thy lover home ! Mother, from that proud field, lo ! thy son is come ! Who murmured of the dead ? Hush, boding voice ! We know That many a shining head Lies in its glory low. BOB CRATCHIT's DINNER 315 Breathe not those names to-day ! They shall have their praise ere long, And a power all hearts to sway, In ever-burning song. But now shed flowers, pour wine, To hail the conquerors home ! Bring wreaths for every shrine — lo I they come, they come ! Mrs. Hemans. s BOB CRATCHIT'S DINNER. (An extract from " A Christinas Carol.") OON the steeples called good people all to church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of by- streets, lanes, and nameless turnings innumerable people carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. Up then rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence ; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons, while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and, getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose and known it for their own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table and 816 ADVANCED ELOCUTION exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled. " What has ever got your precious father then ?" said Mrs. Cratchit. " And your brother Tiny Tim ! and Martha warn't as late last Christmas day by half an hour!" " Here's Martha, mother," said a girl, appearing as she spoke. " Here's Martha, mother !" cried the two young Cratchits. " Hurrah ! There's such a goose, Martha !" " Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are !" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her. " We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, " and had to clear away this morning, mother !" " Well ! Never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. " Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm. Lord bless ye!" " No, no ! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. " Hide, Martha, hide !" So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him ; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable ; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame ! " Why, Where's our Martha ?" cried Bob Cratchit, look- ing round. " Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchitt. " Not coming !" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits ; for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come home rampant — " not coming upon Christmas day !" 317 Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke ; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper. " And how did little Tim behave ?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content. " As good as gold," said Bob, " and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember, on Christmas day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see." Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty. His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister, to his stool beside the fire ; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs, — as if, poor fel- low, they were capable of being made more shabby, — com- pounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer. Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor ; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce ; Martha dusted the hot plates ; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table ; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forget- 318 ADVANCED ELOCUTION ting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on and grace was said. It was suc- ceeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it into the breast ; but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried. Hurrah ! There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't be- lieve there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of univer- sal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family ; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last ! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows ! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone — too nervous to bear witnesses — to take the pudding up and bring it in. Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it should break in turning out ! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back yard and stolen it while they were merry with the goose — a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid ! All sorts of horrors were supposed. Hallo ! A great deal of steam ! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day ! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastr}''- cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that ! That was the pudding 1 In half a minute 319 Mrs. Cratchit entered — flushed, but smiling proudly — with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. 0, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratcliit said that, now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it w^as at all a small pudding for a large family. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing. At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table and a shovelful of chest- nuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass — two tumblers and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done ; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and crackled noisily. Then Bob proposed : — "A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" Which all the family re-echoed. " God bless us every one !" said Tiny Tim, the last of all. Charles Dickens. 320 ADVANCED ELOCUTION SUNRISE. MUCH, however, as we are indebted to our observatories for elevating our conceptions of the heavenly bodies, they present even to the unaided sight, scenes of glory which words are too feeble to describe. I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from Providence to Boston ; and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the morning. Everything around was wrapt in darkness and hushed in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night — the sky was without a cloud — the winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral lustre, but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of the day ; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east ; Lyra sparkled near the zenith ; Andromeda veiled her newly-discovered glories from the naked ^ eye, in the south ; the steady pointers, far beneath the pole, looked meekly up from the depths of the north, to their sov- ereign. Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky began to soften ; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted to- gether; but the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous trans- figuration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens ; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly gray ; the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east began to kindle. Faint THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 321 streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky ; the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance ; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy tear-drops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state. I do not wonder at the superstition of the ancient Magians, who in the morning of the world went up to the hill-tops of Central Asia, and, ignorant of the true God, adored the most glorious work of His hand. But I am filled with amazement when I am told that in this enlight- ened age, and in the heart of the Christian world, there are persons who can witness this dail}^ manifestation of the power and wisdom of the Creator, and yet say in their hearts, " there is no God." Edward Everett. THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. (Abridged.) (Suggested from the well-known picture of Mr. Holman Hunt, in which the uplifted form of Christ, resting with extended arms from His labor in the car- penter's shop at Nazareth, throws upon the wall of the Virgin's house a figure ox a Cross.) LIGHT and Shadow ! Shadow and Light ! Twins that were born at the birth of the sun ! One the secret of all things bright ; The secret of all things sombre, one. One the joy of the radiant day ; One the spell of the dolorous night : One at the dew-fall bearing sway ; One at the day-break, rosy and white. 21 322 ADVANCED EIX>CCT10N Sister and brother, bom of one mother, Made of a thought of the Infinite One, Made by the wisdom of God — and none other— In times when the times were not b^on. One with the morning star for its gem, Glad Eiisphorus, herald of beams ; One that wears for its diadem Pale, sad Hesperus, phmet of dreams. One for the glory and one for the gloom ; One to show forth and one to shroud ; One for the birth and one for the tomb ; One for the clear sky and one for the cloud. Sister and brother, for ever and ever. Nowise disparted, and nowhere a-twain ; Mysteries no man's thinking shall sever ; Marvels none can miss or explain. Light, which without a shadow shines not ! Shadow, which shows not unless by light ! (For that which we see to sight combines not. Except by the sides that escape the sight.) Is this the parable? this the ending? That nothing lives for us unless with a foil ; That all things show by contrast and blending — Pleasure by Pain, and Rest by Toil ? Strength by Weakness, and Gladness by Sorrow ; Hope by Despair, and Peace by Strife ; The Good by the Evil, the Day by the Morrow ; Love by Hatred, and Death by Life ? THE SHADOW OF THE CBOSB 323 Far off— worlds off — in the Pleiads seven Is a Star of Stars — Alcyone — The orb which moves never in all the Heaven The centre of all sweet Light we see. And there, thou Shadow of Earth's pale seeming ! The wisest say no shadow can be, But perfect spjlendors, lucidly streaming. And Life and Light at intensity. Then why did the artist show it thus — The Sorrow of Sorrows personified — Painting the carpenter's Son for us And the Shadow behind of the Crucified ? Meek and sweet in the sun He stands. Drinking the air of His Syrian skies ; Lifting to heaven toil-wearied hands. Seeing " His Father " with those mild eyes ; Gazing from trestle and bench and saw, To the Kingdom kept for His rule above. O Christ, the Lord ! we see with awe ! Ah ! Joseph's Son ! we look with love ! Ah ! Mary Mother ! we watch with moans Marking that phantom thy sweet eyes see, That hateful Shadow upon the stones, That sign of a coming agony ! Did it happen so once in Nazareth ? Did a Christmas sun show such a sight, Making from Life a spectre of Death, Mocking our " Light of the World " with Light? 324 ADVANCED ELOCUTION He tells us — this artist — one Christmas-tide, The sunset painted that ominous Cross ; The shadows of evening prophesied The hyssop to Him, and to us the loss. For, her pang is the pang of us, every one : Wherever the Light shines the Shadow is ; Where beams a smile must be heard a moan ; The anguish follows the flying bliss. Yon crown which the Magi brought to her, It makes a vision of brows that bleed ; Yon censer of spikenard and balm and myrrh, It looks on the wall like a " sponge and reed." And, therefore, long ago was it written — Of a Christmas to come in the realms of Light — - " The curse shall depart and death shall be smitten, And then there shall be no more night." O Christ, our Lord, in that Shadowless Land, Be mindful of these sad shadows which lie ! Look forth and mark what a woful band < Of glooms attend us across Thy sky ! J " Christmas !" and hear what wars and woe ! " Christmas !" and see what grief o'er all ! Lord Christ ! our suns shine out to show Crosses and thorns on Time's old wall ! ^ So, if Thou art where that star gleams, \ Alcyone, or higher still. Send down one blessed ray which beams Free of all shadows — for they kill. Edwin Arnold. 1 UTILIZING OUR FAILURES 325 UTILIZING OUR FAILURES. Permission of " The Outlook," New York, EVERY man or woman who feels the responsibility of making the best use of opportunities, and who has high standards of work, feels at times a great depression from a sense of falling below the level of occasions and of doing the worst when the occasion called for the best. It happens very often to such persons that, after the most thorough preparation, the performance falls lamentably below the aim and leaves behind it a sense of utter disap- pointment. This humiliation of spirit, which is the lot at times of all sensitive people who care more for their work than for themselves, may either become a source of weak- ness or a source of strength. It is the evidence of the divine possibilities of life that the defeats of to-day may be made the forerunners of the victories of to-morrow, and that the consciousness of failure may become in itself a new element of success. It was said of Peter the Great that he learned the art of war at the hand of his enemies, and that he was taught how to win victories by suffering a long and discouraging series of defeats. To say this of a man is to pay him the very highest tribute. As a student in the great school of life, it is to credit him with that openness of mind, that forgetfulness of self, and that ab- sence of personal vanity which characterize the true learner in any field. For failure, if it comes through no fault of our own, drives us back upon our hold on ultimate aims. It makes us aware how variable and uncertain is our own strength, and it teaches us to rely, not upon our- selves, but upon the greatness of the things with which we identify ourselves. A great object persistently pursued has power to unfold a noble out of a very commonplace man or woman, and to develop an almost unsuspected 326 ADVANCED ELOCUTION strength out of a mass of weakness. The shocks to our pride drive us out of ourselves into the greatness of the causes which we espouse ; and the defeats which we suffer, if we take them aright, confirm us in our loyalty to the things for which we fight. It is painful to fail when we have made every preparation to succeed ; it is humiliating to produce an impression of weakness when we wish to make an impression of strength ; but the supreme thing in life is to get our work done and to make the truth which we love prevail ; and if the discipline of failure can be made to work for this end, it is a discipline neither to be dreaded nor to be avoided. Lyman Abbott. .» 0-U-G-H. I'M taught p-1-o-u-g-h Shall be pronounce " plow * Zat's easy wen you know," I say ; " Mon Anglais I'll get through." My teacher say zat in zat case 0-u-g-h is " 00." And zen I laugh and say to him, " Zees Anglais makes me cough." He say, " Not coo, but in zat word 0-u-g-h is ' off.' " Oh ! sacre bleu ! such varied sounds Of words make me hiccough ! He say, " Again, mon friend ees wrong 1 0-u-g-h is * up ' In hiccough." Zen I cry, " No more! You make my throat feel rough." DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII 327 " Non ! non !" he cry, " you are not right — 0-u-g-h is ' uff.' " I say, "I try to speak your words, I can't prononz them, though !" " In time you'll learn, but now you're wrong, 0-u-g-h is * owe.' " " I'll try no more. I sail go mad — ■ I'll drown me in ze lough !" " But ere you drown yourself," said he, " 0-u-g-h is ' ock." He taught no more ! I held him fast ! And killed him wiz a rough ! Charles B. Loomis. DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII. (From " Last Days of Pompeii.") THE cloud, which had scattered so deep a murkiness over the day, had now settled into a solid and im- penetrable mass. It resembled less even the thickest gloom of a night in the open air than the close and blind darkness of some narrow room. But in proportion as the blackness gathered, did the lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their vivid and scorching glare. Nor was their horrible beauty confined to the usual hues of fire ; no rainbow ever rivalled their varying and prodigal dyes. Now brightly blue as the most azure depth of a southern sky — now of a livid and snake-like green, darting restlessly to and fro as the folds of an enormous serpent — now of a lurid and intolerable crimson, gushing forth through the columns of smoke, far and wide, and lighting up the whole city from arch to arch — then suddenly dying into a sickly paleness, like the ghost of their own life ! 330 ADVANCED ELOCUTION The groans of the dying were broken by wild shrieks of women's terror — now near, now distant — which, when heard in the utter darkness, were rendered doubly appalling by the crushing sense of helplessness and the uncertainty of the perils around ; and clear and distinct through all were the mighty and various noises from the Fatal Moun- tain ; its rushing winds ; its whirling torrents ; and, from time to time, the burst and roar of some more fiery and fierce explosion. And ever as the winds swept howling along the street, they bore sharp streams of burning dust, and such sickening and poisonous vapors, as took away, for the instant, breath and consciousness, followed by a rapid revulsion of the arrested blood, and a tingling sensation of agony trembling through every nerve and fibre of the frame. Suddenly the place became lighted with an intense and lurid glow. Bright and gigantic through the darkness, which closed around it like the walls of hell, the mountain shone — a pile of fire ! Its summit seemed riven in two ; or rather, above its surface there seemed to rise two mon- ster shapes, each confronting each, as Demons contending for a World. These were of one deep blood-red hue of fire, which lighted up the whole atmosphere far and wide ; but below, the nether part of the mountain was still dark and shrouded, save in three places, adown which flowed, serpentine and irregular, rivers of the molten lava. Darkly red through the profound gloom of their banks, they flowed slowly on as toward the devoted city. Over the broadest there seemed to spring a cragged and stupendous arch, from which, as from the jaws of hell, gushed the sources of the sudden Phlegethon. And through the stilled air was heard the rattling of the fragments of rock, hurtling one upon another as they were borne down the fiery cataracts— darkening, for one instant, the spot where DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII 331 they fell, and suffused the next, in the burnished hues of the flood along which they floated ! ife ^!> v|^ >lj *1^ "^fLf But suddenly a duller shake fell over the air, and be- hold ! one of the two gigantic crests, into which the sum- mit had been divided, rocked and wavered to and fro ; and then, with a sound, the mightiness of which no language can describe, it fell from its burning base, and rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of the moun- tain! At the same instant gushed forth a volume of blackest smoke — rolling on, over air, sea, and earth. Another — and another — and another shower of ashes, far more profuse than before, scattered fresh desolation along the streets. Darkness once more fell upon the earth. sl^ ^t> ^1^ ^1^ ^1> ^1> Meekly, softly, beautifully, dawned at last the light over the trembling deep ! — the winds were sinking into rest — the foam died from the glowing azure of that delicious sea. Around the east, thin mists caught gradually the rosy hues that heralded the morning; Light was about to resume her reign. Yet, still, dark and massive in the distance, lay the broken fragments of the destroying cloud, from which red streaks, burning dimlier and more dim, betrayed the yet rolling fires of the mountain of the " Scorched Fields." The white walls and gleaming columns that had adorned the lovely coasts were no more. Sullen and dull were the shores so lately crested by the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Century after cen- tury shall the mighty Sea stretch forth her azure arms, and know them not — moaning round the sepulchres of the Lostl E. BuLWEE Lytton. 332 ADVANCED ELOCUTION KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE. Permission of The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis, In