H
p
[UNIVERSITY
OF
WILSON'S
JOOK OF RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
WITH INSTRUCTIONS IN
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION, ! ; -
CONTAINING A CHOICE SELECTION OF
POETICAL AND PROSE RECITATIONS
AND ORIGINAL COLLOQUIES.
/
DESIGNED AS A
LEADING BOOK FOR CLASSES; AND AS AN ASSISTANT TO
TEACHERS AND STUDENTS IN PREPARING
EXHIBITIONS.
BY FLOYD B. WILSON,
INSTRUCTOR IN ELOCUTION AND MATHEMATICS, CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL,
CLEVELAND, OHIO.
NEW YORK:
DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS.
/.
Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1869,
By DICK & FITZGERALD,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
PREFACE.
BUT few words are necessary as introductory to this brief
manual. It is offered to the student as an assistant and
guide in the study of Reading and Elocution. A full analy-
sis of tones of voice is given, and a carefully prepared
chart. The rules are exceedingly brief and to the point.
To all students we can but say this : The art of Elocution
is within your reach; barriers may seemingly rise before
you, but you can surmount them ; do not be in haste ;
master thoroughly the principles laid down in the first
few pages, then with care study each selection, and you
will succeed.
The Colloquies, which are original, appear now for the
first time. The selections have been collated with special
regard to freshness of matter and adaptability to the design
of the work.
We now place this volume in your hands, with the hope
that it may be the means of rendering the subject of Elocu-
tion more attractive ; and that all may be encouraged to
cultivate those great gifts of God to man, Voice and Action.
3
869044:
CONTENTS.
INSTRUCTION IN ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION 7
RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES
Address at the Dedication of the Cemetery at Gettysburg- 19
Sheridan's Ride 20
There's but One Pair of Stockings to Mend To-night 21
Modulation 21
The Drummer Boy's Burial 25
The Pilot 27
The Soldiers' Return. A Colloquy 29
Burial of the Champion of his Class at Yale College 37
Scott and the Veteran 38
Barbara Frietcliie 4G
I wouldn't Would You ? 42
The Professor Puzzled. A Colloquy 44
Thanatopsis 4S
The Two Roads 50
The Pawnbroker's Shop 51
The Sophomore's Soliloquy 53
The Nation's Hymn 54
A(Wres3 to a Skeleton 53
A Glass of Cold Water 57
New Years' Eve 58
The Song of Sherman's Army 61
The Sea Captain's Story 63,
Our Heroes 65
The Closing Year G6
Burial of Little Nell 69
The Picket-Guard 74
The Poor Man and the Fiend 75
Our Country's Call 77
The Orphan's Triumph. A Colloquy 79
Poem Read at the Founding of Gettysburg Monument 89
Spartacus to the Gladiators 94
Soliloquy of the Dying Alchemist 93
Reconstruction. A Colloquy 100
Unjust National Acquisition 102
Dimes and Dollar^ 105
The Dead Drummer-Boy 107
Home 108
responsibility of American Citizen? 110
O CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Smack in School 1 12
Left on the Battle-Field 113
The American Flag 114
Oh ! Why Should the Spirit of Mortal bo Proud ? 116
Parrhasius 118
The Vagabonds 121
A Bridal Wine-Cup 121
Blanche of Devan's Last Words 127
Widow Bedott to Elder Sniffles 128
A Psalm of the Union 129
Charge of a Dutch Magistrate ." 130
Stars in My Country's Sky 131
Bingen on the Rhine 132
The Religious Character of President Lincoln 134
The Raven 136
The Loyal Legion 140
Agnes and the Years 144
Catiline's Defiance 146
Our Folks 147
The Beautiful Snow 149
The Ambitious Youth 151
The Flag of Washington 155
The Abbot of Waltham 156
Ode to an Infant Son 157
The Scholar's Mission 158
Claude Melnotte's Apology and Defence 160
The Forging of the Anchor 162
The Wreck of the Hesperus 164
The Man of Ross 167
No Work the Hardest Work 168
What is Time ? 170
Brutus's Oration over the Body of Lucretia, 171
What is That, Mother ? 173
A Colloquy With Myself 174
Saint Philip Neri and the Youth 176
The Chameleon 177
Henry the Fourth's Soliloquy on Sleep 179
On Procrastination 1 80
APPENDIX... ...*... 182
INSTKUCTION IN
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
ANALYSIS OF PRINCIPLES., , ...
" ELOCUTION includes the whole theory and practice of the
principles which govern the outward exhibition of the in-
ward workings of the inind."
POSITION.
In standing or sitting, the person should be erect ; the
shoulders well thrown back, weight resting mainly on either
right or left foot, when standing. Be perfectly free and
easy in your position, let no part of the body be contracted
in any manner.
BREATHING.
Daily practice of deep breathing develops the power of the
lungs and the volume of the voice. Always breathe through
the nose. Place thumbs upon abdomen, throw the shoulders
"back, inhale long breath, exhale, placing the lips so as to
form element " o." Change position and again continue the
practice.
It has been decided by physicians that more cases of hoarse-
ness, pulmonary consumption, etc., come from improper
breathing than all other causes combined. Too much stress
cannot be placed upon the above exercise.
EMBARRASSMENT.
Embarrassment ever presents itself as the first barrier to
'the - --ing reader. Several causes may produce it ; yet the
8 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
chief cause is improper use of the breathing apparatus. The
moment before a person is about to read or speak, he fre-
quently works himself into a sort of an excitement, and takes
short and quick breaths. A few moments after he begins to
road, he overcomes this ; yet a blunder on the first sentence
often causes a total failure. A calm, modest, yet command-
ing bearing carries with it a world of weigh ti To overcome
embarrassment, keep in mind this simple rule, Inhale and ex-
r.a< four \long breads just before you attempt to speak or read.
Hundreds, 9f my students will attest its value ; the causes
a,re cd?e<i above. , . -
STAMMERING.
Stammering may result from several causes. There may
be some defect in the organs of speech ; such being the case,
physicans have pronounced it incurable. It generally re-
sults from embarrassment and haste. "We would follow the
%
same principle as in embarrassment, simply : Divide the
attention, and the stammerer is cured. Those that stammer
sing with ease. Take a person that stammers, request him
to strike his hand on table, book, or something, and count
with you ; next let him speak words instead of counting and
he will not stammer. By beating time when he speaks, his
attention is divided, and soon stammering, which is habit in
nine cases out of ten, will be completely cured.
ENUNCIATION.
Much has been said and written on the culture of the hu-
man voice, and in a brief treatise like this we do not propose
to enter into a full consideration of the breathing and vocal
apparatus. "We would refer the student to " Rush on the
Human Voice." "We will confine our remarks mainly to the
exposition of principles that will work results.
Yoice comes to us like other of God's gifts, not perfect.
We lisp before wo speak ; yet men in this practical world
ofttimes regard this gift as perfect and complete in itself, not
a talent to be cultivated and developed by proper study.
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION. 9
History has told us repeatedly, that men are not born ora-
tors. By long and continued study have they attained emi-
nence.
A clear and distinct utterance, a full and deep tone con-
stitute the basis of all good reading. Each element, each
syllable, each word should have its due proportion of sound.
To cultivate clearness, practise daily upon the vowel
sounds. Give the sound both low and high, loud and soft,
deep and aspirated. Follow this practice with certain com-
binations of consonants that you have found difficult to
enunciate ; then syllables, words, and finally sentences.
The vowel sounds are given below for individual or class
practice.
A, long, as in ale, fate, gray.
A, short, as in add, fat, have.
A, Italian, as in arm, father, palrn.
A, broad, as in all, talk, swarm.
A, as in ask, class, grass.
A, as in fare, dare, air.
E, long, as in me, mete, peace.
E, short, as in met, end, check.
E, like a, as in ere, there, heir.
I, long, as in ice, fine, mire.
I, short, as in ill, it, fin.
O, long, as in old, note, loaf.
O, short, as in odd, not, torrid.
0, like long oo, as in move, do, tomb.
U, long, as in use, tube, lute.
U, short, as in us, tub, but.
U, like short oo, as in pull, push, put.
01, as in oil, join, moist.
Ou, as in out, hound, thou.
A few of the consonants arc given below, they should be
treated, in the practice, as the vowels in the preceding table :
B, as in bat, bag, but.
D, as in dun, did, need.
10 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
F, as in fit, fame, fife.
L, as in let, bell, knell.
M, as in man, drum, rum.
N, as in nun, nay, wind.
Ng, as in song, ring, king.
R, as in rap, run, round.
Th, as in thine, thus, beneath.
Z, as in zeal, maze, was.
Zh, as in vision, leisure, azure.
Sh, as in shun, shade, sash.
Other of the vowel or consonants sounds may be given and
practised, if the teacher or pupil find it necessary. Particu-
lar attention should be given to the sounds of long e and ,
broad a and long o, which is one of the clearest sounds in the
language. Of the consonants m, n, and I are remarkable for
their musical sound. Drum, wind, and bell are fine examples
to illustrate. Dwell upon these elements in enunciating the
word.
Master these elements and you will have advanced a step
in the cultivation of the voice.
A few words frequently mispronounced, and a few test
sentences are given below.
What, when ; banishment, punishment, government ; and,
command ; real, ideal ; last, past ; poem ; exhausted ; idea ;
aye ; lexicon, Creator, orator ; brightness, fondness ; home ;
bell, wind, drum ; rapping ; personification, valetudinarian,
congratulation, intercommunication.
(1.) " Round the rude ring the ragged rascals ran."
(2.) " The wild beasts struggled through the thickest
shade."
(3.) " The swinging swain swiftly swept the swinging
sweep."
(4.) " The stripling stranger strayed through the strug-
gling stream."
(5.) " Up the hill he heaves the huge round stone."
These words and sentences should first be pronounced by
the teacher ; and then simultaneously by tlie class, as a con-
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION. 11
cert exercise, at first slowly, then more and more rapidly.
By this means the most timid will be relieved of embarrass-
ment.
The tone, time, and pitch are ever changing. Monotone
means not only one tone, but a corresponding sameness or
oneness of time and pitch. Some selections require the mon-
otone, but it is chiefly confined to solemn discourse.
VOICE.
Voice is an audible sound made by the breath. No sound
can be made without breath, no full and clear sound, unless
the lungs be properly inflated.
We have two divisions of tone, which may be denominated
the Pure and the Impure.
The Pure tone is where all the breath is vocalized.
The Impure tone is where all the breath is not vocalized.
There are several subdivisions that we give below, in the
form of a chart. By study a clear conception of all the
tones can be learned from it. The Orotund is simply deeper
and fuller than the Pure.
f p . j Effusive.
-T) / Lre ' > -IN / Expulsive.
* Pure. > (or unemotional). ' E1 sive _
[ Orotund ' I Expulsive.
( Guttural.
Impure. < Aspirate.
( Tremor.
The Pure effusive tone might bo compared to the so-
prano in singing. Pure expulsive to the alto. Orotund
effusive to the tenor ; and the Orotund expulsive to the
bass. The quality of the voice is quite clearly indicated in
the names of the other tones. ~No work on this topic can
supply the placo of a living teacher. We cite a few examples
for a drill exercise on the qualities of the voice.
Pure, effttsive :
" I really take it very kind
This visit, Mrs. Skinner,
12 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
I have not seen yon for an age
(The wretch has come to dinner !")
Pure, expulsive :
" There his voice grew low and faltering ; slowly came each
painful breath ;
Two brave forms laid side by side, then death had loved a
shining mark ;
And two sad mothers say, ' It lias grown dark, ah, very
dark ! ' "
Orotund, effusive :
(1.) " I go ; but not to leap the gulf alone."
(2.) " By all the fiery stars ! I'd bind it on ! "
Orotund, expulsive :
(1.) Charge, soldiers, charge ! "
(2.) " I know not what course others may take, but, as for
me, give me liberty, or give me death/'
Guttural :
(1.) <: And there are times when, mad with thinking,
I'd sell out Heaven for something warm,
To prop a horrible inward sinking."
(2.) " I hate him, for he is a Christian."
Aspirate :
(1.) " Hush ! hark ! A deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! "
(2.) " Listen ! I heard a footstep, no ! 'tis gone."
Tremor :
(1.) " Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door.' 7
(2.) " The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear,
Of agony are thine."
These examples will serve to giro tlie student a clear idea
of " tones ;" numerous selections will be found in Part Second
for class drill and practice. Some simple sentence might be
selected by the teacher to be recited by the whole class in all
the various tones. This will be found a valuable exercise.
" Com:* one, come all " is well adapted for such an exercise.
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION. 13
It is very seldom that a whole selection is read in one tone
of voice throughout. The ear would tire, were this the case ;
and the most interesting subject would lose all interest. The
student must decide, to a great extent, what tone should be
used. Cultivate the low and deep tones, the expulsive pure
and orotund. Deep breathing will be found very beneficial
to the cultivation of these tones. The aspirate has a power
that at times cannot bo overestimated. In. the sentence,
" He knew me, smiled faintly, gasped, and died " the word
" gasped " should be given in the full aspirate, and the word
" died " in what might be termed a mingling of the aspirate
and tremor.
The guttural is used extensively in expressions of denun-
ciation, revenge, etc. 'Tis a very unpleasant tone ; and the
throat may be exceedingly injured by long and continued
practice. In the character of Shy lock in the " Merchant of
Venice," this tone is chiefly used.
From these brief remarks, we think that by a little thought,
the qualities of voice may be clearly understood, and proper-
ly applied.
EMPHASIS.
Of this and many other important elements our space will
force us to be very brief. Take this single rule : The most
important word is the most emphatic. Study the selection
thoroughly, fully understand the author, and this simple
rule will ever be found a correct guide.
STRESS,
Experience has taught us that readers fail oftener upon
this than emphasis. Prof. Murdock has defined stress as
the effusive, expulsive, explosive. The effusive is the unemo-
tional or most natural ; the expulsive is where the element is
dwelled -upon ; the explosive is where the element is ex-
ploded, it may be compared to the cracking of a whip. Be sure
you give a word its proper stress ; though you throw extra
14 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
forco upon an emphatic word, you fail unless you give that
word its proper stress.
PITCH, TIME, SLIDE.
Good readers do not pitch their voice as hign as poor ones,
nor do they read as rapidly as poor ones. Guard against
these two errors. In any sentence where a doubt is indicated
use the rising slide, in other cases the falling. When in doubt
concerning which should be used, always use the downward
slide.
GRAMMATICAL AND RHETORICAL PAUSES.
No definite idea can be formed of the exact length of
pauses. The reader must be governed wholly by the style
of the selection. The rhetorical pause has a power that all
public speakers and readers soon learn. We give this one
general rule. Before every important word or sentence, make a
pause. Silence always commands attention ; having gained
that, the word or sentence will fall with double weight.
POSITION, ACTION, GESTURE.
Gesture can be taught, and can be learned. History has
confirmed this assertion many times. Nor will a person's
gestures be necessarily mechanical, because he has attained
the elements of true grace and action by studying the best
models. One might as reasonably argue that the rules of
gram mar and rhetoric tend to cr ample a man's language,
as that taught gestures tend to promote stiffness and- man-
nerism. Gesture can be learned by careful study and prac-
tice ; yet I would state here that gesture must le natural, and
consistent throughout.
Let the position be erect, the eyes not set, nor elevated too
much, and the body kept firm. Guard against making too
many gestures ; and though enthusiasm is the great secret of
success, be not carried away with it. One gesture marks one
idea. The palm of the hand should generally be turned
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION. 15
toward the audience. The hand should leave the body more
closed than when it strikes the position Avoid all angular
movements, ever keep a circle in mind. At times, the hand
may be placed on certain parts of the body to mark impor-
tant thoughts. There is a power, a beauty, in gesture. Cul-
tivate it and learn its mighty force.
EXPRESSION.
The countenance is the index of the mind. Horace has
said, " Nature forms us first within to all the outward cir-
cumstances of fortune/' The thought should be expressed
upon the countenance ere the words are spoken. Certain
attitudes may be assumed at times to more fully express the
idea.
PERSONATION.
The importance of personation is ofttimes overlooked. It
forms a leading feature in all critical reading. You must
first clearly understand the character you wish to personate ;
then you must study the peculiarities of such a character ;
and your work, then, is to imitate true to life. Action, which
includes position, gesture and expression, forms an important
element in personation. Numerous examples in personation
will be found under Part Second, so we will cite none here.
THE INTERJECTION.
The interjection indicates a sigh, groan, surprise, fear, or
some sudden emotion of the mind. It is not necessary
always to give the sound indicated by the letters expressed.
Simply a sigh generally expresses what the writer intends
to convey by the words, Oh ! and Ah! yet in some cases a
scream should be given.
We cite a few sentences below for class and individual
practice. They form a fine elocutionary drill for concert
exercises. We leave the student to determine the emphatic
words, the slide, and the tones of voice.
16 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
EXERCISES.
(1.) " The glad cry of victory, cheer upon cheer."
(2.) " Here sleeps he now alone."
(3.) " I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him."
(-1.) " Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried,
The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I was at your
side."
(5.) " Tell father when he comes from work, I said good night to
him."
(6.) " And hark ! the deep voices replying
From the graves where your fathers are lying :
' Swear ! Oh ! swear !' "
(7.) " I will not, must not, dare not grant your wish."
(8.) " In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wil-
derness of Judea, and saying : ' Repent ye, for the Kingdom of
Heaven is at hand.' "
(0.) "I would uncover the breathless corpse of Hamilton; I
would take from his wound the bloody mantle, and would hold it
up to Heaven before them ; and I would ask in the name of God
I would ask, whether, at sight of it, they felt no compunction."
(10.) " Signor Antonio, many a time and oft,
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances."
(11.) " Grant me but one day an hour."
(12.) " Sink or swim, live or die, I am for the declaration."
(13.) " See how the timbers crash beneath his feet !
0, which way now is left for his retreat 1 "
TRUE ELOQUENCE. Webster.
(14.) When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous oc-
casions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions are
excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, farther than it is connected
with high, intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force,
and earnestness, are the qualities which produce conviction. True
eloquence indeed does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought
from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in
ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION. 17
vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but
they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject,
and in the occasion.
Subdued Example.
(15.) " If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother
dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New- Year,
It is the last New-Year that I shall ever see,
Then you may lay me low in the mould and think no more of me.
To-night I saw the sun set ! he set and left behind
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind,
And the New- Year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree."
From the Merchant of Venice.
(16.) PORTIA. Do you confess the bond 7
ANTONIO. I do.
PORTIA. Then must the Jew be merciful.
SHYLOCK. On what compulsion must 1 1 Tell me that.
PORTIA. The quality of mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes ;
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown ;
It is enthroned in the^hearts of kings ;
It is an attribute of God himself,
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice."
HINTS TO TEACHERS.
To be successful in teaching elocution, one must be able
to throw life and enthusiasm in the class. This can be
reached by no better means than through the medium, of
concert exercises. These will inspire confidence, and by this
means, will the teacher succeed in bringing out the voices of
the class. Too great an amount of matter is frequently
passed over by classes. " Sparticus " will alone afford any
class material for several weeks' study. Yet classes need
18 ELOCUTION AND DECLAMATION.
variety ; a whole recitation should never be spent on a single
selection. The sentences given at the close of the introduc-
tion will aid the teacher in securing variety. Other direc-
tions will be found under the head of " Yoice," " Embarrass-
ment," " Action," etc.
Concerning the study of colloquies, this thought should
be borne in mind by the student : that he must forget self
and live for the time in that character. Too great stress
cannot be placed upon action and position in producing
colloquies on the stage at school exhibitions.
RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
ADDEESS AT THE DEDICATION OF THE
CEMETEEY AT GETTYSBUEG.
A. LINCOLN, NOV. 1864.
FOURSCORE and seven years ago our fathers brought forth
upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether
that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated,
can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that
war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final
resting-place of those who here gave their lives that that
nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that
we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate,
we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The
brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have con-
secrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world
will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it
can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living,
rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work they have
thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here
dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from
these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause
for which they gave the last full measure of devotion ; that
we here highly .resolve that these dead shall not have died
in vain, that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth
of freedom, and that the government of the people, by the
people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
19
20 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
SHEEIDAN'S BIDE.
THOMAS BUCHANAN HEAD.
UP from the South at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
With Sheridan twenty miles
But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good, broad highway leading down ;
And there through the flash of the morning light,
A steed as black as the steeds of night,
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight
As if he knew the terrible need,
He stretched away with the utmost speed ;
Hills rose and fell but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.
Still sprung from those swift hoofs thundering south,
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth,
Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster ;
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
"Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ;
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
With Sheridan only ten miles away.
BUT ONE PAIR OF STOCKINGS TO MEND. 21
Under his spurning feet the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind ;
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire ;
But, lo ! he is Hearing his heart's desire,
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.
The first that the General saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops ;
What was done what to do a glance told him both,
And striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzahs,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray,
By the flash of his eye, and his nostril's play
He seemed to the whole great army to say,
" I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester, down to save the day ! "
Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan !
Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man !
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky.
The American soldier's Temple of Fame,
There with the glorious General's name
Be it said in letters both bold and bright :
" Here is the steed that saved the day
By carry ing Sheridan into the fight,
From Winchester twenty miles away ! "
THEEE'S BUT ONE PAIE OF STOCKINGS TO
MEND TO-NIGHT.
AN old wife sat by her bright (ireside,
Swaying thoughtfully to and fro
22 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
In an easy chair, whose creaky craw
Told a tale of long ago ;
While down by her side, on the kitchen floor,
Stood a basket of worsted balls a score.
The good man dozed o'er the latest news,
Till the light in his pipe went out ;
And, unheeded, the kitten with cunning paws
Rolled and tangled the balls about ;
Yet still sat the wife in the ancient chair,
Swaying to and fro in the fire-light glare.
But anon, a misty tear drop came
In her eyes of faded blue,
Then trickled down in a furrow deep
Like a single drop of dew ;
So deep was the channel so silent the stream
That the good man saw nought but the dimmer! eye beam
5Tet marvelled he much that the cheerful light
Of her eye had heavy grown,
And marvelled he more at the tangled balls,
So he said in a gentle tone
" I have shared thy joys since our marriage vow,
Conceal not from me thy sorrows now."
Then she spoke of the time when the basket there
Was filled to the very brim ;
And now, there remained of the goodly pile
But a single pair for him ;
" Then wonder not at the dimmed eye-light,
There's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night.
" I cannot but think of the busy feet.
Whose wrappings were wont to lay
In the basket, awaiting the needle's time
Now wandering so far awav ;
BUT ONE PAIR OF STOCKINGS TO MEND. 23
How the sprightly steps to a mother dear,
Unheeded fell on the careless ear.
" For each empty nook in the basket old
By the hearth there's a vacant seat ;
And I miss the shadows from off the wall,
And the patter of many feet ;
'Tis for this that a tear gathered over my sight,
At the one pair of stockings to mend to-night.
" 'Twas said that far through the forest wild,
And over the mountains bold,
Was a land whose rivers and darkening caves
Were gemmed with the rarest gold ;
Then ray first-born turned from the oaken door
And I knew the shadows were only four.
" Another went forth on the foaming wave,
And diminished the basket's store ;
But his feet grew cold so weary and cold
They'll never be warm any more
And this nook, in its emptiness, seemeth to me
To give forth no voice but the moan of the sea.
li Two others have gone toward the setting sun,
And made them a home in its light,
And fairy fingers have taken their share
To mend by the fire-side bright ;
Some other basket their garments will fill
But mine, mine is emptier still.
Another :he dearest, the fairest, the best
Was taken by angels away,
And clad in a garment that waxeth not old,
In a land of continual day ;
Oh ! wonder no more at the dimmed eye- light,
When I mend the one pair of stockings to-night."
24 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
MODULATION.
'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear,
'Tis modulation that must charm the ear.
When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan,
And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone,
The same soft sounds of unirnpassioned woes
Can only make the yawning hearers doze.
The voice all modes of passion can express,
That marks the proper word with proper stress ;
But none emphatic can that speaker call,
Who lays an equal emphasis on all.
Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll,
Slow and deliberate as the parting toll ;
Point every stop, mark every pause so strong
Their words like stage processions stalk along.
All affectation but creates disgust,
And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just ;
In vain for them the pleasing measure flows.
Whose recitation runs it all to prose;
Repeating what the poet sets not down,
The verb disjointing from its favorite noun,
While pause, and break, and repetition join
To make a discord in each tuneful line.
Some placid natures fill the allotted scene
With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene ;
While others thunder every couplet o'er,
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar.
More nature oft, and finer strokes are shown
In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone ;
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze
More powerful terror to the mind conveys
Than he, who, swollen with impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage.
THE DRUMMER-BOY'S BURIAL. 25
He, who in earnest studies o'er his part,
Will find true nature cling about his heart.
The modes of grief are not included all
In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl ;
A single look more marks the internal woe
Than all the windings of the lengthed Oh !
Up to the face the quick sensation flies.
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes ;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions all the soul is there.
THE DEUMMEE-BOY'S BUEIAL.
HAKPEHS' MAGAZINE.
ALL day long the storm of battle through the startled valley swept ;
All night long the stars in heaven o'er the slain sad vigils kept.
Oh the ghastly upturned faces gleaming whitely through the night !
Oh the heaps of mangled corses in that dim sepulchral light !
One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning broke ;
But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death awoke.
Slowly passed the golden hours of that long bright summer day,
And upon that field of carnage still the dead unburied lay .
Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a dumb, unceasing
prayer,
For a little dust to hide them from the staring sun and air.
But the foeman held possession of that hard-won battle plain,
In unholy wrath denying even burial to our slain.
Once again the night dropped round them night so holy and so
calm
That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of prayer or
psalm.
26 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest,
Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded on his
breast.
Death had touched him very gently, and he lay as if in sleep ;
Even his mother scarce had shuddered at that slumber calm and
deep.
For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radiance to the face,
And the hand of cunning sculptor could have added naught of grace
To the marble limbs so perfect in their passionless repose,
Robbed of all save matchless purity by hard, unpitying foes.
And the broken drum beside him all his life's short story told :
How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o'er him rolled.
Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars,
While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet Mars.
Hark ! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whispering low,
Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet's murmuring
flow 1
Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round
As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the ground.
Came two little maidens, sisters, with a light and hasty tread,
And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread.
And they did not pause nor falter till, with throbbing hearts, they
stood
Where the Drummer-boy was lying in that partial solitude,
They had brought some simple garments from their wardrobe's
scanty store,
And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they bore.
Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back the pitying
tears,
For they had DO time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears.
THE PILOT. 27
And they robed the icy body, while no glow of maiden shame
Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a flush of lambent flame.
For their saintly hearts yearned o'er it in that hour of sorest need,
And they felt that Death was holy, and it sanctified the deed.
But they smiled and kissed each other when their new strange task
was o'er,
And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments wore.
Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they hollowed out,
And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that lay about.
But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work was done,
And in crimson pomp the morning again heralded the sun.
And then those little maidens they were children of our foes
Laid the body of our Drummer-boy to undisturbed repose.
THE PILOT A THRILLING INCIDENT.
JOHN B. GOUGH,
JOHN MAYNARD was well known in the lake district as a
God-fearing, honest and intelligent pilot. He was pilot on
a steamboat from Detroit to Buffalo. One summer afternoon
at that time those steamers seldom carried boats smoke
was seen' ascending from below, and the captain called out :
" Simpson, go below, and see what the matter is down
there."
Simpson came up with his face pale as ashes and said,
" Captain, the ship is on fire."
Then " Fire ! fire ! fire I " on shipboard.
All hands were call ! up* Buckets of water wore dashed
28 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
on the fire, but in vain. There were large quantities of rosin
and tar 011 board, and it was found useless to attempt to save
the ship. The passengers rushed forward and inquired of
the pilot :
" How far are we from Buffalo ? "
" Seven miles."
" How long before we can reach there ? "
" Three-quarters of an hour at our present rate of steam."
" Is there any danger ? "
" Danger ! here see the smoke bursting out go forward
if you would save your lives."
Passengers and crew men, women and children crowded
the forward part of the ship. John Maynard stood at the
helm. The flames burst forth in a sheet of fire ; clouds of
smoke arose. The captain cried out through his trumpet :
" John Maynard ! "
" Aye, aye, sir ! "
" Are you at the helm ? "
" Aye, aye, sir ! "
" How does she head ? "
" Southeast by east, sir."
" Head her southeast and run her on shore," said the
captain.
Nearer, nearer, yet nearer, she approached the shore.
Again the captain cried out :
" John Maynard ! "
The response came feebly this time, " Aye, aye, sir ! "
" Can you hold on five minutes longer, John ? " he said.
" By God's help, I will."
The old man's hair was scorched from the scalp, one hand
disabled, his knee upon the stanchion, and his teeth set, with
his other hand upon the wheel, he stood firm as a rock. He
beached the ship ; every man, woman, and child was saved,
as John Maynard dropped, and his spirit took its flight to its
God.
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 29
THE SOLDIEE'S EETUEN.
A COLLOQUY-IN TWO SCENES.
F. B. WILSON.
MR. HANSFORD, JAY PERSINGS,
MRS. HANSFORD, RALPH FIELDING,
ROSA BEAUMOND, SOLDIER,
CAPTAIN HANSFORD, FAIRIES (three).
COSTUME. MR. and^lns. HANSFORD plainly dressed. CAPTAIN
HANSFORD uniform. RALPH FIELDING carelessly dressed, disorder-
ed hair. FAIRIES dresses of light gauze, different colors.
DIRECTIONS. R. means Eight of Stage facing the audience ; L. Left ;
C. Centre ; M C. Left of Centre ; It. C. Right of Centre*
SCENE I Interior of a Kitchen in a New England Home MR. and
MRS. HAXSFORD seated near each other ; lie with paper she with
knitting.
MRS. HANFORD. Do you know, husband, that it is just
three years ago to-day that our son, our dear boy, bade us
" good-bye." 'Tis just three years since he marched with
many other patriot boys, to battle for freedom. Oh ! how
firm he looked as he stood forth in his suit of blue ; how
hopeful he seemed to be ! "I will came back, mother," he
said, "crowned with glory, in three years from to-day."
Those words I can never forget; but where is our boy
to-night ?
MR. H. 'Tis strange, wife, that our minds should wander
to the same subject ; though I sit with paper in hand, glanc-
ing over its columns, my thoughts were far away. I thought
of him, as he heroically charged against the enemy, as wound-
* As nearly every school has some sort of a stage and curtain, any directions
on this subject would be superfluous. The stage should be deep enough to
admit of a second curtain. This curtain should not extend over more than
two-thirds of the stage. A gauze curtain behind the dark one will add to
the eftect.
30 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
ed he lay on the field of battle. His letters assure us that
he is not a stranger to such scenes as these. But a year has
elapsed since we have heard from him. His name has not
appeared in the list of wounded or killed. I still hope that
he may be alive. I would not think otherwise.
MBS. H. Perhaps he now lives in some dismal prison
cell. A worse fate than this may have befallen him. Sick-
ness, brought on by being forced to sleep in damp rebel
prisons, and want of food, may have caused his death.
MB. H. I feel positive that he is not now in the ranks of
the army. One of your conjectures must be true. But
God grant that he may yet live, and return to us.
MBS. H. This is war's harsh blow. Each bullet, each
blade, that pierces a heart on a battle-field, pierces double
the number at home. Many a home has a " vacan^ chair "
in it to-night. But the struggle is for liberty. Our son has
fought and bled, perhaps died for his country. The thought
is a fearful one ; but God still lives.
MB. H. Let that thought still cheer us : " God still
lives." May he grant victory to the cause of Union, free-
dom to the bond-man, and peace and consolation to every
broken heart. Wife, let us spare our fears, let us be
hopeful.
Silence for a few moments ; a knock is heard at door.
MB. H. Come ! (Enter soldier, wounded.}
SOLDIEB. (B.) I am hungry and weary with my long
journey. I am without money; taken very sick on my
way, I was forced to spend all I had during my sickness. I
am loath to beg, but am driven to it.
MBS. H. We know how to feel for you ; we gladly will
do all in our power to aid you. Sit down and rest yourself,
while I prepare some food for you. (Mrs. H. prepares food on
table, L. C.)
MB. H. In what division of the army were you placed ?
SOLDIEB. The Potomac army. I have been with Gen.
McClellan during the whole campaign. At the battle of
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 31
Gettysburg I received this severe wound in my arm, which
prevented me from joining my company again.
Mil. H. I had a son in the Potomac army ; in the Con-
necticut infantry. He enlisted three years ago ; was cap-
tain when last we heard from him. Several letters did \vti I
receive from him during the battles before Richmond; but
since then not one word has reached us concerning his
welfare.
SOLDIER. My regiment was quartered for some time near
some troops from Connecticut. I was quite intimate with a
captain, by name, Hansford ; yet I do not know the number
of his regiment.
MB. H. It must have been my son. Do you know where
he now is ? When did you see him last ?
SOLDIER.^ I saw him last just before those terrific battles
that will ever be remembered in history. So fearful had
been the conflict, so hasty our departure, that we thought
of little besides ourselves and home. If he had fallen on
the field you would certainly have been informed.
MRS. H. Come, your meal is ready. (SOLDIER lakes seat.)
Would that my boy were seated at your side.
SOLDEIR. It may be in my power to learn something def-
inite concerning your son. I know of his great worth.
Many a deed of kindness has he performed for me. Little
did I ever think that I should meet his parents. But I
pledge you a soldier's word, that I will endeavor to learn
where he may now be, and will write you all I may hear
concerning him. (rises to go.)
MR. H. (whispers something to wife, L.) I am not rich, I am
obliged to work that I may comfortably live ; yet I can
spare you money so that you need walk no more. Here,
take this, (hands him purse] and may God bless thee.
SOLDIER. I will return this money. You truly are a sol-
dier's friend, and God will reward you for this noble act.
(Exits, leaves his bundle R.
MR. H. I will now go to the office, tidings may reach us
from him. (MR. H. passes out one door R., she another L.)
32 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Enter JAY PERSINGS and RALPH FIELDING, R.
PERSINGS. The old man has just gone to the office, I met
him on my way here. Wonder where the old woman is ?
I would really like to see how they will take the news con-
tained in that letter, (laughs, SOLDIER re-enters, walks toward
bundle, stops.)
FIELDING. You have forced me to do a dreadful thing,
Jay. I am guilty of a most shameful deed.
PERSINGS. Why man, how you talk ! Nothing wrong
about it. I know his son must be dead ere this ; when he
reads that letter his fears will be confirmed. There will be
a short season of mourning, and soon all excitement will
pass away.
FIELDING. Supposing his son be not dead ? What if he
should return ?
PERSINGS. All the better, providing I marry R-osa Beau-
mond ere his return.
FIELDING. But will she marry you ? Some girls never
forget an absent lover. Their lives are so
PERSINGS. Well, I declare ; if I ever thought of hearing
you say anything so foolish. Girls never marry because one
lover dies. Pooh ! pooh ! I tell you, Ealph, as soon as one
lover is lost to them, they put forth every exertion to get
another. You look excited this morning. Here, take a
drink, (produces flask.)
FIELDING, (turns partly around, raises fla.sk to his lips.) This
room makes me think of my own home. How very like it,
oh, how happy was I there ! What pleasant dreams I had,
as I lay on my pillow under the little cottage-roof. But
now ugly dreams haunt me ; last night snakes seemed to be
twining around my body, and crawling about my arms ; I
tore my hair, I cried, (observes SOLDIER, who lias advanced near
/dm.) Who, sir, are you \
SOLDIER. A weary worn-out soldier. I stopped here a
few moments ago, and was kindly treated by the good peo-
ple here. I had forgotten my bundle and have just returned
for it.
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 33
PERSIXGS. Take it and leave immediately.
SOLDIER, (yoing E.) I know the designs of these wicked
men. The cars are about to leave, (hell rings). I hear the
bell, I shall write to my benefactor, and tell him all, as soon
as I reach home. ^ (Exit.
FIELDING. Come, Ralph, let us be on our way ; 'tis nearly
time for the old man to return (Exeunt R.
Enter MRS. H. and ROSA BEAUMOND, L
MRS. H. A soldier called a few moments since, Rosa, who
had known Theodore. He spoke very highly of him, and
told me he would try and learn where he may now be.
ROSA. Would that I could have seen him. What anxiety
is mine. But let us " lay all our cares on God ; that
anchor holds."
Enter MR. H., letter in hand, sad.
MRS. H. and ROSA. What, have you heard
MR. H. (in a broken voice.) This letter is from an officer in
Theodore's regiment ; and informs me that he is dead
died in a rebel prison. (ROSA utters a scream, is supported to
arm-chair c., MR. and MRS. H. sink down overpowered.}
Curtain at back of stages rises, three FAIRIES appear with wands.
FIRST FAIRY. The blow is a severe one, dear, good and
honest people. But it is to test your love for him you mourn.
He is not dead, you shall see him again, " God still lives ; "
trust in him.
(All speak,) May slumbers sweet surround you,
May your hopes in God remain ;
May Jesus look in mercy,
And calm your troubled brain.
Gauze falls in front of FAIRIES Music heard without-~Curtain
slowly falls.
FAIRIES.
ROSA
MR. H. MRS. H.
CURTAIN.
34 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
SCENE 11. Same as Scene I. MRS. H. seated alone, knitting, looks
up from her work.
MRS. H. As I sit. knitting to-night, I cannot but think
of the poem :
" There's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night."
How true of my own little family. One died in infancy.
Another was drowned while endeavoring to save the life of
, poor widow's child. The youngest, yes, the dearest and
best, died for his country ; manfully did he go forth ae
soon as war's hot breath o'erspread the land. What suffer-
ings he has undergone since then ! He loved his home, he
loved Hosa Beaumond, but he loved his country letter than
all. What a blank is now in our little home. May God's
mercy rest with every vacant fireside. May his presence
cheer many a sad household to-night.
Enter ROSA. R.
ROSA. I have much to tell you, dear Mrs. Hansford. This
day has been an exciting one to me.
MR. H. Sit down, Rosa, tell me all, you look weary and
worn out.
ROSA. For sometime Jay Persings has been very attentive
to me. He told me that he felt badly to see me dressed in
mourning ; sympathized with me, pitied me ; and to-day he
wrote me, asking my hand in marriage, urging me to fix
upon an early day for our wedding.
MRS. H. And your answer, Rosa ?
ROSA. I answered him " No." His offer I spurn.
MRS. H. But Rosa, if he loves you, it might
ROSA, (c.) I know Jay Persings. I have seen him in the
street, drunken. He is without character. Then his offer,
so soon after the death of one I most devotedly loved, leads
me to spurn him more than for any other act. But were he
perfection, I should reject his offer.
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 35
MRS. H. You are doubtless right, Eosa, though you sur-
prise me, as I did not think him guilty of so great a vice.
EOSA. I had a dream the evening Mr. Hansford brought
us the terrible news, but I feared to tell it you. It was so
sweet a dream, so pleasant, so cheering, so impossible, that
I did not tell you. (MRS. H. appears interested.} But last
night I had the same dream, saw the same vision. A group
of fairies, three in number, appeared to me. I do not remem-
ber all they said, but they told me I should yet see him
whom I loved. 'Tis foolish to believe in dreams, but what*
can this mean ?
MRS. H. The same vision of which you speak, saw I on
that evening. But he is dead. We can never meet him
again on this earth. Those fairy angels have told us we
shall meet him again, but it shall be in heaven. Come,
with ine, Eosa, you are weary. (Exeunt.
Enter RALPH FIELDING R., looks wildly around.
FIELDING. What a wretched night I have passed since I
wrote that dreadful letter.
Enter, unperceived, SOLDIER R., citizen's dress.
Eum has not power to make me hide that sin. Jay
made me drunk before I wrote it. He promised me money,
and as yet has not given it me. I have come here now for
the purpose of acknowledging my whole crime. Glad am I
that the girl has not married Jay Persings. This that I
shall tell her will at least save her from being a drunkard's
wife. Would to God that her lover still lives, (turns around
and observes SOLDIER.) What are you
SOLDIER. I am he who, as a worn-out soldier met you
and one you called Jay, a few weeks ago. I heard your
conversation then, I heard your reverie now. I know all.
You are about to act the part of a man. Let this day be
* one you will long remember. Ecform now. Capt. Hans-
ford still lives, and is now 011 his way home ; for some timo
36 KECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
lie has been confined in a rebel prison was lately released,
and may reach home to-day. I have learned this since I
was here ; and I have come to tell the family, and to inform
them of Persings' infamous plot.
Enter MR. and MRS. II., and~Ro&A.
SOLDIER. Do not let our presence surprise you, listen to
what this man has got to say.
FIELDING. I was implicated in a plot, gotten up by Jay
*Persings. That was a forged letter. Your son, madam,
your lover, madam, is not dead, (surprize manifested.) Jay
made me drunk before I forged that letter. I have repented.
I come to ask your forgiveness.
MR. H. Our joy is too great for us to harbor an unkind
thought toward any. But who are you ?
SOLDIER. Do you remember feeding a wounded soldier
a few weeks since, and giving him money to proceed on his
journey ? I am that one. I am come to tell you that your
son still lives. He is on his way home. Possibly he may be
here
Door opens, enter CAPT. HANSFORD, R.
CAPT. H. Mother ! Father ! and dear Rosa, is it really
you?
MR. H. Let us leave them alone*
Exeunt, music, ROSA stands with both hands resting in CAPT. H.'s., L. c.,
curtain falls at back of stage, FAIRIES appear.
FIRST FAIRY. May the anxiety which you have felt be of
good to you. God ruleth ! It is he that has restored your
lover to you. Praise Him !
(All speak.) May your lives be long and happy,
May your sorrows be but few ;
May Jesus be your constant friend,
And ever may you be true.
Gauze falls in front of FAIRIES, music heard wittout Curtain slowly
BURIAL OF THE CHAMPION OF HIS CLASS. 37
BUBIAL OF THE CHAMPION OF HIS CLASS,
AT YALE COLLEGE.
N. P. WILLIS.
YE'VE gathered to your place of prayer
With slow and measured tread :
Your ranks are full, your mates all there
But the soul of one has fled.
He was the proudest in his strength,
The manliest of ye all ;
Why lies he at that length^
And ye around his pall ?
Ye reckon it in days, since he
Strode up that foot-worn aisle,
With his dark eye flashing gloriously,
And his lip wreathed with a smile.
0, had it been but told yon, then,
To mark whose lamp was dim
From out yon rank of fresh-lipp'd men,
Would ye have singled him ?
Whose was the sinewy arm, that flung
Defiance to the ring 1
Whose laugh of victory loudest rung
Yet not for glorying 1
Whose heart in generous deed and thought,
No rivalry might brook,
And yet distinction claiming not 1
There lies he go and look !
On now his requiem is done,
His last deep prayer is said
On to his burial, comrades on,
With a friend and brother dead 1
Slow for it presses heavily
It is a man ye bear !
38 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Slow, for our thoughts dwell wearily
On the gallant sleeper there.
Tread lightly, comrades ! we have laid
His dark locks on his brow
Like life save deeper light and shade :
We'll not disturb them now.
Tread lightly for 'tis beautiful,
That blue-vein'd eyelid's sleep,
Hiding the eye death left so dull
Its slumber we will keep.
Rest now ! his journeying is done
Your feet are on his sod
Death's blow has fell'd j r our champion
He waiteth here his God.
Ay turn and weep 'tis manliness
To be heart-broken here
For the grave of one the best of us
Is water'd by the tear.
SCOTT AND THE YETEEAN.
BAYARD TAYLOR.
AN old and crippled veteran to the War Department came,
He sought the Chief who led him on many a field of fame
The Chief who shouted " Forward ! " where'er his banner rose,
And bore its stars in triumph behind the flying foes.
" Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried,
" The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I was at your side 1
Have you forgotten Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane 1
'Tis true, I'm old and pensioned, but I want to fight again."
" Have I forgotten 7 " said the Chief: " My brave old soldier, no !
And here's the hand I gave you then, and let it tell you so ;
But you have done your share, my friend ; you're crippled, old ;
and gray,
And we have need of rounder arms and fresher blood to-dav."
SCOTT AND THE VETERAN. ' 39
" But, General," cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow,
" The very men who fought with us, they say are traitors now :
They've torn the flag of Lundy's Lane, our old red, white and
blue,
And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop is true.
" I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good old gun,
To get the range of traitors' hearts, and prick them, one by one.
Your Minie rifles and such arms, it ain't worth while to try ;
I couldn't get the hang o' them, but I'll keep my powder dry ! "
" God bless you, comrade ! " said the Chief, " God bless your loyal
heart !
But younger men are in the iield, and claim to have a part;
They'll plant our sacred banner firm, in each rebellious town,
And woe, henceforth, to any hand that dares to pull it down ! "
" But. General ! " still persisting, the weeping veteran cried,
" I'm young enough to follow, so long as you're my guide ;
And some you know must bite the dust, and that, at least, can I j
So, give the young ones pla.ce to fight, but me a place to die !
" If they should fire on Pickens. let the colonel in command
Put me upon the rampart with the flag-staff in my hand :
No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the shell may fly,
I'll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold them till I die !
" I'm ready, General ; so you let a post to me be given
Where Washington can look at me, as he looks down from heaven.
And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, General Wayne
' There stands old Billy Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane ! '
" And when the fight is raging hot, before the traitors fly
When shell and ball are screeching, and bursting in the sky,
If any shot should pierce through me. and lay me on my face,
My soul would go to Washington's and not to Arnold's place ! "
40 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
BAEBAEA FEIETCHIE.
JOHJ? G.
UP from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The eluster'd spires of Frederick stand,
Green- wall'd by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
Fair as a garden of the Lord,
to the eyes of that famish'd rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early Fall,
When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapp'd in the morning wind : the sun
Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten ;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men haul'd down.
In her attic window the staif she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouch'd hat left and right
He glanced ^ the old flag met his sight.
BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 41
" Halt ! " the dust-brown ranks stood fast ;
" Fire ! " out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shiver'd the window-pane and sash,
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell from the broken staff,
Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf.
She lean'd far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
" Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came ;
The nobler nature within him stirr'd
To life at that woman's deed and word.
" Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog ! March on !" he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet ;
All day long that free flag toss'd
Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well ;
And through the hill-gaps, sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the rebel rides on his raids no more.
Honor to her ! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Slonewall's bier.
42 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave !
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law ;
And ever the stars above look down
On thv stars below in Frederick town.
"I WOULDN'T WOULD YOU."
ANONYMOUS.
WHEN a lady is seen at a party or ball,
Her eyes vainly ttirn'd in her fits of conceit,
As she peers at the gentlemen, fancying all
Are enchained by her charms and would kneel at her feet,
With each partner coquetting, to nobody true ;
I wouldn't give much for her chances : would you 7
When an upstart is seen on the flags strutting out,
With his hat cock'd aslant, and a glass in his eye ;
And thick clouds of foul smoke he stands puffing about,
As he inwardly says, " what a noble am I,"
While he twists his moustache for the ladies to view ;
I wouldn't give much for his senses : would you ?
When a wife runs about at her neighbors to pry,
Leaving children at home, unprotected to play ;
Till she starts back in haste at the sound of their cry,
And finds they've been fighting while mother's away,
Sugar eaten panes broken the wind blowing through ;
I wouldn't give much for her comfort : would you 1
When a husband is idle, neglecting his work,
In the public-house snarling with quarrelsome knaves ;
When he gambles with simpletons, drinks like a Turk,
While his good wife at home for his poor children slaves ;
And that home is quite destitute painful to view ;
I wouldn't give much for his morals : would you ?
"i WOULDN'T WOULD YOU?" 43
When a boy at his school, lounging over his seat,
Sits rubbing his head, and neglecting his book,
While he fumbles his pockets for something to eat,
Yet pretendeth to read when his master may look,
Though he boasts to his parents how much he can do ;
I wouldn't give much for his progress : would you 1
When a man who is driving a horse on the road,
Reins and whips the poor brute with unmerciful hand,
Whilst it willingly strives to haste on with its load,
Till with suff 'ring and working it scarcely can stand ;
Though he may be a man and a wealthy one too ;
I wouldn't give much for his feeling : would you 1
When a master who lives by his laborers' skill,
Hoards his gold up in thousands, still craving for more,
Though poor are his toilers he grindeth them still,
Or unfeelingly turns them away from his door ;
Though he banketh his millions with claims not a few ;
I wouldn't give much for his conscience: would you 1
When a tradesman his neighbor's fair terms will decry,
And keeps puffing his goods at a wonderful rate ;
E'en at prices at which no fair trader can buy ;
Though customers flock to him early and late ;
When a few months have fled and large bills become due,
I wouldn't give much for his credit : would you 7
When in murderous deeds a man's hands are imbrued.
Tho' revenge is his plea, and the crime is conceal'd,
The severe stings of conscience will quickly intrude,
And the mind, self-accusing, can never be heal'd ;
When the strong arm of justice sets out to pursue,
I wouldn't give much for his freedom : would you ?
When a husband and wife keep their secrets apart,
Not a word to my spouse about this, or on that ;
When a trifle may banish the pledge of their heart.
And he naggles she snaggles; both contradict flat;
44 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Tho' unequall'd their love when its first blossoms blew ;
I wouldn't give much for their quiet : would you ?
When a man who has lived here for none but himself.
Feels laid on his strong frame the cold hand of death,
When all fade away, wife, home, pleasures, and pelf,
And he yields back to God both his soul and his breath :
As up to the judgment that naked soul flew,
I wouldn't give much for his Heaven ! would you 1
THE PBOFESSOB PUZZLED.
F. B. WILSON.
PROFESSOR. PUPIL.
SCENE. The Professors Study. Professor seated by table examining
some manuscripts. {Enter Pupil, smoking.')
PUPIL. Good evening, Professor. (Throws himself into a
chair.']
PROF. Good evening, sir. As this is the last lesson of
your course, I wish to call your attention to the different
topics that we have taken up in your previous lessons. I must
say, Mr. S., that your success has not been as great as it might
have been. You have been in too great a hurry. You wish-
ed to be drilled on the " Raven " and Shakspeare before you
fully understood the tones of voice. Emphasis and slide, the
great beauty of good reading, have been almost wholly over-
looked by you, notwithstanding my repeated cautions. It"
is not my intention to criticize your performance this eve-
ning. I shall take up all the essential elements that con-
stitute an orator, and I am confident that from the drill you
have had, you ought to be able to give them correctly. I
therefore consider this lesson a sort of an examination. You
may place yourself where the audience can see you, and take
first position, sitting. (Pupil takes position.)
PUPIL. Shall I now give a personation of a band of min-
strels opening an entertainment ?
THE PROFESSOR PUZZLED. 45
PROF. You may, and then be done with burlesque.
PUPIL. (Picking up programme from floor.] -Colored folks,
seem' you've 'sembled yourself this evening fer the purpose
of entertaining de white population, de fus' thing dat strikes
my optical observation on dis evening's programme am de
overture, so throw yourself away, (throws himself. )
PROF. Let us now leave the minstrels to finish their own
performance, and go on with ours. Eise, take first position.
Give the sentence, " Let me grasp thce," in the orotund.
PUPIL. (Takes position.] " Let me grasp thee " (catches hold
of Prof.)
PROF. Back ! I asked for the tone, not the action.
PUPIL. But what power have words without action ?
PROF. Without action all oratory sinks into insignificance.
Demosthenes gave action as the first, second and third requi-
sites to a perfect orator. But you are now not performing
the part of a speaker, you are simply giving the elements
that constitute one. Take now the selection, " She loved
me," etc.
PUPIL. " She loved me for the tales I told,
I loved her for the beer she sold."
PROF. Is your memory so weak, or is the burlesque so
deeply seated in you that you murder the most beautiful
passages ?
PUPIL. You gave me to understand that it was tone you
wanted, not action, so I concluded that if I gave you the
tone correctly, even words were of minor importance.
PROF. Different selections require different tones. Words
have all to do with tone. As you are inclined to the comic,
you may recite a stanza from the Irish Picket.
PUPIL. " I'm standing in the mud, Biddy,
With not a spalpeen near ;
And silence spachless as the grave
Is the only sound I hear ;
This southern climate's quare, liiddy,
A qua 10 and beastly thing,
46 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Wid winter absent all the year,
And summer in the spring.' 5
PROF. A little too much of the dramatic, but we will
pass on. You may now sit. (Pupil si's.] Eecite an extract
from the " Hypochondriac."
PUPIL. The " Hypohcondriac ? " I never saw him.
PROF. We have had that selection during your course.
You are to personate a man that is ever complaining, one
who imagines he has all the " many ills to which the flesh is
heir."
PUPIL. I remember. Give me a towel to tie on my
head.
PROF. This will do as well. (Hands him red silk handker-
chief. He ties it on.}
PUPIL. " Good morning, Doctor ; how do you do ? I haint
quite as well as I have been ; but I- think I am somewhat
better than I was. I don't think that last medicin' you gin
me did me much good. I had a terrible time with the ear-
ache last night ; my wife got up and drapped a few draps of
walnut sap into it, and that relieved it some ; but I didn't get
a wink of sleep till nearly daylight. For nearly a week, Dr.,
I've had the worst kind of a narvous headache ; it has been
so bad sometimes that I thought my head would bust open.
Oh, doar ! I sometimes think that I am the most afflictedest
human being that ever lived, (coughs.} Oh, dear ! but that
aint all, Dr., I've got fifteen corns on my toes and I'm af-
feard I'm going to have the yellow jaundice, (coughs.}
PROF. We will now drop the comic. You may next give
the closing part of Catiline's speech.
PUPIL, (rises.} "I go ; but not to leap the gulf alone."
(Mates desperate leav on stage.}
PROF. Hold ! Mr. S., you well know that there is but one
step from the sublime to the ridiculous, and why do you
murder that sublime passage ?
PUPIL. I was merely following out the teachings of De^
mosthenes action is the essential element in true oratory.
THE PROFESSOR PUZZLED. 47
PROF. Proper action, but not monkey-shines. At the
word leap you may make a gesture with your hand. How
often have I told you that stamping, or feet gestures, were
entirely out of place. Try it again.
PUPIL. " I go ; but not to leap alone,
I go ; but when I come 'twill be the burst
Of ocean in the earthquake rolling back
In swift and mountainous ruin. Good-bye ttow." 1
PROF. " Good-bye now ; " are those words in the original ?
PUPIL. "Words of the same import are, and as the words
" Fare thee well," imply the same as " good-bye," I know
of no reason why we may not use them.
PROF. The rules of oratory, I admit, are many and va-
riable. You are now reciting a classical production, and
he words " good-bye " cannot be considered classical. ,-3e-
jin again at that point.
PUPIL. " Fare you well !
You build my funeral pile ; but your best blood
Shall quench its flame ! Back, Contrabands, I will return."
PROF. Contraband is a word not in use at that time, j
;ell you, Mr. S., I am becoming discouraged. You are too
careless. Take for your last selection Hamlet's soliloquy.
J UPIL. '' To marry, or not to marry? that is the question,
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The jeers and banters of outrageous females,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by proposing, end them. To court ; to marry ;
To be a bach no more ; and, by a marriage, end
The heart-ache, and the thousand and one ills
Bachelors are heir to ; 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. But the dread of something after
Makes us rather bear the ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of. '
(^Comical exit.)
48 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
THANATOPSIS.
W. C. BRYANT.
To him who, in the love of Nature, holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language : for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides
Into his darter musings with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpnes-s, ere he is aware. "When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart,
Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air
Comes a still voice Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements ;
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
Wi<h patriarchs of the infant world- with kings,
The powerful of the earth the wteo, the good,
THANATOPSIS. 49
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills.
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun ; the Tales
Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
The venerable woods : rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks,
That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man ! The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of Heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosorn. Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings yet the dead are there I
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep the dead reign there alone I
So shalt thou rest ; and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure 1 All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase
His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side,
Br those who in their turn shall follow them
50 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
So live, that when thy summons comes, to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
THE TWO KOADS.
RICHTEK.
IT was New Year's night. An aged man was standing at
a window. He mournfully raised his eyes toward the deep
blue sky, where the stars were floating like white lilies on
the surface of a clear, calm lake. Then lie cast them on the
earth, where few more helpless beings than himself were
moving towards their inevitable goal the tomb. Alreadpy
he had passed sixty of the stages which lead to it, and he
had brought from his journey nothing but errors and re-
morse. His health was destroyed, his mind unfurnished,
his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort.
The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and
he recalled the solemn moment when his father had placed
him at the entrance of two roads, one leading into a peace-
ful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resound-
ing with soft, sweet songs ; while the other conducted the
wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue,
where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents
1 hissed and crawled.
He looked towards the sky, and cried out, in his anguish
" O, youth, return ! O, my father, place me once more at the
crossway of life, that I may choose the better road ! " But
the days of his youth had passed away, and his parents were
with the departed. He saw wandering lights float over
dark marshes, and then disappear. " Such," he said, 4< were
THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP. 51
the days of my wasted life ! " He saw a star shoot from
heaven, and vanish in the darkness athwart the church-yard.
" Behold an, emblem of myself!" he exclaimed; and the
sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck him to the heart.
Then he remembered his early companions, who had en-
tfjred life with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue
and industry, were now happy and honored on this New
Year's night. The clock in the high church-tower struck,
and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled the many tokens
of the love of his parents for him, their erring son ; the les-
sons they had taught him; the prayers they had offered up
in his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared
no longer look towards that heaven where they dwelt. His
darkened eyes dropped tears, and, with one despairing effort,
he cried aloud, " Come back, my early days ! Come back ! "
And his youth did return ; for all this had been but a
dream, visiting his slumbers on New Year's night. He was
still young ; his errors only were no dream. He thanked
God fervently that time was still his own ; that he had not
yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to
tread the road leading to the peaceful land where sunny har-
vests wave.
Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubting which
path to choose, remember that when years shall be passed,
and your feet shall stumble on the dark mountains, you will
cry bitterly, but cry in vain, " O, youth return ! O, give me
back my early days ! "
THE PAWNBEOKEE'S SHOP.
ANONYMOUS.
'Tis Saturday night, and the chill rain and sleet
Is swept by the wind down the long dreary street ;
The lamps in the windows nicker and blink,
As the wild gale whistles through cranny and chink ;
But round yon door huddles a shivering crowd
Of wretches, by pain and by penury bowed ;
52 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
And oaths are muttered, and curses drop
From their lips as they stand by the Pawnbroker's shop
Visages, hardened and seared by sin ;
Faces, bloated and pimpled with gin ;
Crime, with its plunder, by poverty's side;
Beauty in ruins and broken-down pride.
Modesty's cheek crimsoned deeply with shame ;
Youth's active form, age's fast-failing frame,
Have come forth from street, lane, alley, and stop.
Heart-sick, weary and worn, at the Pawnbroker's shop.
With the rain and the biting wind chilled to the bone.
Oh ! how they gaze upon splendor, and groan !
Around them above them wherever they gaze,
There were jewels to dazzle and gold to amaze ;
Velvets that tricked out some beautiful form ;
Furs, which had shielded from winter and storm ;
Crowded with " pledges," from bottom to top,
Are the chests and the shelves of the Pawnbroker's shop.
There's a tear in the eye of yon beautiful girl,
As she parts with a trinket of ruby and pearl ;
Once as red was her lip, and as pure was her brow ;
But there came a destroyer, and what is she now 7
Lured by liquor, she bartered the gem of her fame,
And abandoned by virtue, forsaken by shame,
With no heart to pity, no kind hand to prop,
She finds her last friend in the Pawnbroker's shop.
The spendthrift, for gold that to-morrow will fly ;
The naked, to eke out a meagre supply ;
The houseless, to rake up sufficient to keep
His head from the stones through the season of sleep :
The robber, his booty to turn into gold ;
The shrinking, the timid, the bashful, the bold ;
The penniless drunkard, to get " one more drop/'
All seek a resource in the Pawnbroker's shop.
THE SOPHOMORES SOLILOQUY.
'Tis a record of ruin a temple whose stones
Are cemented with blood, and whose music is groans ;
Its pilgrims are children of want and despair ;
Alike grief and guilt to its portals repair ;
Oh ! we need not seek fiction for records of woe ;
Such are written too plainly wherever we go ;
And sad lessons of life may be learned as we stop
'Neath the three golden balls of a Pawnbroker's shop.
THE SOPHOMOEE'S SOLILOQUY.
MICHIGAN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
" To be, or not to be 7 " was Hamlet's question,
And his discourse draws tears from many an eye ;
A nobler doubt finds in my heart suggestion
To dye, or not to dye 1
It is not that I fear the King of Terrors,
Cross-bones and skull call up no dire alarms,
Be sure I'll not commit that worst of errors,
Of rushing to his arms.
Whenever I am wanted down below,
Old Bones will come and catch me, if he can ;
And I have no desire, unasked, to go
To haunts Tartarean.
Nor am I thinking of a dwelling charnel
In city grave-yard, or 'neath greenwood tree ;
Than heavenly home, or stopping place infernal,
Earth hath more charms for me.
But of dyeing without pain or sorrow,
Or sad farewell, with fluttering, fainting breath ;
A dyeing that may hap again to-morrow,
A dyeing without death.
Yet all the doubts that Hamlet there expresses
Are those that now are agitating me ;. ^
54 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
The hopes and fears, and vague, uncertain guesses
Of what my fate will be.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slights that nature puts upon me here,
Or take the chance of meeting something rougher
Than those which now I bear.
If black proved always jet, and purple never,
If yellow ne'er appeared for promised brown,
My doubts would vanish, and no mental fever
Would weigh my spirits down.
But yet, to see the smiles, and meet the glances
Of ridicule from girlhood's eyes that flash !
It is too bitter I must take the chances,
And dye my young moustache.
THE NATION'S HYMN.
ANONYMOUS.
OUR past is bright and grand
In the purple tints of time ;
And the present of our land
Points to glories more sublime.
For our destiny is won ;
And 'tis ours to lead the van
Of the nations marching on,
Of the moving hosts of man !
Yes, the Starry Flag alone
Shall wave above the van,
Of the nations sweeping on,
Of the moving hosts of man !
We are sprung from noble sires
As were ever sung in song ;
We are bold with Freedom's fires,
We are rich, and wise, and strong.
THE NATION'S HYMN. 55
On us are freely showered
The gifts of every clime,
And we're the richest dowered
Of all the heirs of Time !
Brothers, then, in Union strong,
We shall ever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along,
To fulfil the hopes of man !
We are brothers ; and we know
That our Union is a tower,
When the fiercest whirlwinds blow,
And the darkest tempests lower !
We shall sweep the land and sea,
While w r e march, in Union, great,
Thirty millions of the free
With the steady step of fate !
Brothers, then, in Union, strong,
Let us ever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along,
To fulfil the hopes of man !
See our prairies, sky-surrounded !
See our sunlit mountain chains !
See our waving woods, unbounded,
And our cities on the plains !
See the oceans kiss our strand,
Oceans stretched from pole to pole !
See our mighty lakes expand,
And our giant rivers roll !
Such a land, and such alone,
Should be leader of the van,
As the nations sweep along,
To fulfil the hopes of man !
Yes, the spirit of our land,
The young giant of the West,
With the waters in his hand,
With the forests for his cresi
56 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
To our hearts' quick, proud pulsations,
To our shouts that still increase,
Shall yet lead on the nations,
To their brotherhood of peace !
Yes, Columbia, great and strong,
Shall forever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along,
To fulfil the hopes of man !
ADDEESS TO A SKELETON.
ANONYMOUS.
[The MSS. of this poem, which appeared during- the first quarter of the
present century, was said to have been found in the Museum of the Royal
College of Surgeons, in London, near a perfect human skeleton, and to have
been sent by the curator to the Morning CJironicle for publication. It excited
so mucli attention, that every effort was made to discover the author, and a
responsible party went so far as to offer a reward of fifty guineas for informa-
tion that would discover its origin. The author preserved his incognito, and,
we believe, has never been discovered.]
BEHOLD this ruin ! ; Twas a skull
Once of etherial spirit full.
This narrow cell was Life's retreat,
This space was Thought's mysterious seat
What beauteous visions filled this spot,
What dreams of pleasure long forgot 7
Nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor fear,
Have left one trace of record here.
Beneath this mouldering canopy
Once shone the bright and busy eye,
But start not at the dismal void
If social love that eye employed.
If with no lawless fire it gleamed,
But through the dews of kindness beamed.
That eye shall be forever bright
When stars and sun are sunk in night.
Within this hollow cavern hung
The ready, swift and tuneful tongue
A GLASS OF COLD WATER. 57
If Falsehood's honey it disdained,
And when it could not praise, was chained j
If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke,
Yet gentle concord never broke ;
This silent tongue shall plead for thee
When Time un vails Eternity !
Say, did these fingers delve the mine 1
Or with the envied rubies shine 1
To hew the rock or wear a gem
Can little now avail to them.
But if the page of Truth they sought,
Or comfort to the mourner brought,
These hands a richer meed shall claim
Than all that wait on Wealth and Fame.
Avails it whether bare or shod,
These feet the paths of duty trod ?
^If from the bowers of Ease they fled,
To seek Affliction's humble shed ;
If Grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned,
And home to Virtue's cot returned,
These feet with angel wings shall vie,
And tread the palace of the sky !
A GLASS OF COLD WATEE.
J. B. GOUGH.
WHERE is the liquor which God the Eternal brews for all
his children ? Not in the simmering still, over smoky fires
choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with the stench
of sickening odors, and rank corruptions, doth your Father
in heaven prepare the precious essence of life, the pure cold
water. But in the green glade and grassy dell, where the
red deer wanders, and the child loves to play ; there God
brews it. And down, low down in the lowest valleys, where
the fountains murmur and the rills sing ; and high upon the
58 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
the tall mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like
gold in the sun ; where the storm-cloud broods, and the
thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the wide wild sea,
where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves roar ;
the chorus sweeping the march of God : there he brews it
that beverage of life and health-giving water. And every-
where it is a thing of beauty, gleaming in the dew-drop ;
singing in the summer rain ; shining in the ice-gem, till the
leaves all seem to turn to living jewels ; spreading a golden
veil over the setting sun ; or a white gauze around the mid-
night moon.
Sporting in the cataract ; sleeping in the glacier ; dancing
in the hail shower ; folding its bright snow curtains softly
about the wintry world ; and waving the many-colored iris,
that seraph's zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain-drop
of earth, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven ; all check-
ered over with celestial flowers, by the mystic hand of re-
fraction. *
Still always it is beautiful, that life-giving water ; no
poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not madness
and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass ; pale widows
and starving orphans weep no burning tears in its depth ;
no drunken, shrieking ghost from the grave curses it in the
words of eternal despair ; speak on, my friends, would you
exchange for it demon's drink, alcohol !
NEW YEAB'S EYE.
ANONYMOUS.
LITTLE Gretchen, little Gretchen wanders up and down the street ;
The snow is on her yellow hair, the frost is on her feet.
The rows of long, dark houses without look cold and damp,
By the struggling of the moonbeam, by the nicker of the lamp.
The clouds ride fast as horses, the wind is from the north,
But no one cares for Gretchen, and no one looketh forth.
NEW YEAK'S EVE. 59
Within those dark, damp houses are merry faces bright,
And happy hearts are watching out the old year's latest night.
With the little box of matches she could not sell all day,
And the thin, tattered mantle the wind blows every way,
She clingeth to the railing, she shivers in the gloom
There are parents sitting snugly by the firelight in the room ;
And children with grave faces are whispering one another
Of presents for the new year, for father or for mother.
But no one talks to Gretchen, and no one hears her speak,
No breath of little whisperers comes warmly to her cheek.
No little arms are round her : ah me ! that there should be,
With so much happiness on earth, so much of misery !
Sure they of many blessings should scatter blessings round,
As laden boughs in Autumn fling their ripe fruits to the ground.
And the best love man can offer to the God of love, be sure,
Is kindness to his little ones, and bounty to his poor.
Little Gretchen, little Gretchen goes coldly on her way ;
There's no one looketh out at her, there's no one bids her stay.
Her home is cold and desolate ; no smile, no food, no fire,
But children clamorous for bread, and an impatient sire.
So she sits down in an angle where two great houses meet,
And she curleth up beneath her for warmth her little feet ;
And she looketh on the the cold wall, and on the colder sky,
And wonders if the little stars are bright fires up on high.
She hears the clock strike slowly, up in a church tower,
With such a sad and solemn tone, telling the midnight hour.
And she remembered her of tales her mother used to tell,
And of the cradle-songs she sang, when Summer's twilight fell ;
Of good men and of angels, and of the Holy Child,
Who was cradled in a manger, when Winter was most wild ;
Who was poor, and cold, and hungry, arid desolate arid lone ;
And she thought the song had told he was ever with his own ;
And all the poor and hungry and forsaken ones are his
"How good of Him to look on me in such a place as this ! "
9
60 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Colder it grows and colder, but she does not feel it now,
For the pressure on her heart, and the weight upon her brow ;
But she struck one little match on the wall so cold and bare,
That she might look around her, and see if He were there.
The single match has kindled, and by the light it threw
It seemed to litt.e Qretchen the wall was rent in two ;
And she could see folks seated at a table richly spread,
With heaps of goodiy viands, red wine and pleasant bread.
She could smell the fragrant savor, she could hear what ti*ey di4
say,
Then all was darkness once again, the match had burned away.
She struck another hastily, and now she seemed to see
Within the same warm chamber a glorious Christmas tree.
The branches were all laden with things that children prize,
Bright gifts for boy and maiden she saw them with her eyes.
And she almost seemed to touch them, and to join the welcome
shout,
When darkness fell around her, for the little match was out.
Another, yet another, she has tried they will not light ;
Till all her little store she took, and struck with all her might :
And the whole miserable place was lighted with the glare,
And she dreamed there stood a little child before her in the air.
There were blood-drops on his forehead, a spear-wound in his side,
And cruel nail-prints in his feet, and in his hands spread wide.
And he looked upon her gently, and she felt that he had known
Pain, hunger, cold, and sorrow ay, equal to her own.
And he pointed to the laden board and to the Christmas tree,
Then up to the cold sky, and said, {: Will Qretchen come with me 1 "
r The poor child felt her pulses fail, she felt her eyeballs swim,
And a ringing sound was in her ears, like her dead mother's
hymn :
And she folded both her thin white hands, and turned from that
bright board,
And from the golden gifts, and said, " With thee, with thee, 0,
Lord i "
THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY. 61
The chilly winter morning breaks up in the dull skies
On the city wrapt in vapor, on the spot where Gretchen lies.
In her scant and tattered garments, with her back against the wall,
She sitteth cold and rigid, she answers to no call.
They have lifted her up fearfully, they shuddered as they said,
"It was a bitter, bitter night! the child is frozen dead."
The angels sang their greeting for one more redeemed from sin ;
Men said, " It was a bitter night; would no one let her in 1 "
And they shivered as they spoke of her, and sighed. They could
not see
How much of happiness there was after that misery.
THE SONG OF SHEEMAN'S AEMY.
C. G. HALPINI.
A PILLAR of fire by night,
A pillar of *smoke by day,
Some hours of march, then a halt to fight,
And so we hold our way ;
Some hours of march, then a halt to fight,
As on we hold our way.
Over mountain, and plain, and stream,
To some bright Atlantic bay,
With our arms aflash in the morning beam,
We hold our festal way ;
With our arms aflash in the morning beam,
We hold our checkless way !
There is terror wherever we come.
There is terror and wild dismay
When they see the Old Flag and hear the drum
Announce us on the way ;
When they see the Old Flag and hear the drum.
Beating time to our onward way.
Never unlimber a gun
Fcr those villainous lines^in grey,
62 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Draw sabres ! and at 'em upon the run !
'Tis thus we clear our way,
Draw sabres, and soon you will see them run,
As we hold our conquering way.
The loyal, who long have been dumb,
Are loud in their cheers to-day ;
And the old men out on their crutches come,
To see us hold our way ;
And the old men out on their crutches come,
To bless us on our way.
Around us in rear and flanks,
Their futile squadrons play,
With a sixty-mile front of steady ranks,
We hold our checkless way ;
With a sixty-mile front of serried ranks.
Our banner clears the way.
Hear the spattering fire that starts
From the woods and copses grey,
There is just enough fighting to quicken our hearts,
As we frolic along the way !
There is just enough fighting to warm our hearts,
As we rattle along the way.
Upon different roads abreast
The heads of our columns gay,
With fluttering flags, all forward pressed,
Hold on their conquering way.
With fluttering flags to victory pressed,
We hold our glorious way.
Ah, traitors ! who bragged so bold
In the sad war's early day,
Did nothing predict you should ever behold
The Old Flag come this way ?
Did nothing predict you should yet. behold
Our banner come back this way 1
THE SEA CAPTAIN'S STORY. 63
By heaven ! 'tis a gala march,
'Tis a pic-nic or a play ;
Of all our long war 'tis the crowning arch,
Hip, hip ! for Sherman's way !
Of all our long war this crowns the arch
For Sherman and Grant, hurrah !
THE SEA CAPTAIN'S STOEY.
LORD LYTTON.
GENTLE lady !
The key of some cliarm'd music in your voice
Unlocks a long-closed chamber in my soul ;
And would you listen to an outcast's tale,
'Tis briefly told. Until my fourteenth year,
Beneath the roof of an old village priest,
Nor far from hence, my childhood wore away.
Then waked within me anxious thoughts and deep.
Throughout the liberal and melodious nature
Something seem'd absent what, I scarcely knew
Till one calm night, when over earth and wave
Heaven looked its love from all its numberless stars
Watchful yet breathless suddenly the sense
Of my sweet want swelled in me, and I ask'd
The priest why I was motherless 7
He wept and answer' d " I was nobly born ! "
As he spake,
There gleamed across my soul a dim remembrance
Of a pale face in infancy beheld
A shadowy face, but from whose lips there breathed
The words that none but mothers murmur !
'Twas at that time there came
Into our hamlet a rude jovial seaman,
With the frank mien boys welcome, and wild tales
Of the far off .Indian lands, from which mine ear
Drank envious wonder. Brief his legends fired rne,
And from the deep, whose billows washed the shore
On which our casement look'd, I heard a voice
64 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
That woo'd me to its bosom : Raleigh's fame,
The New World's marvels, then made old men heroes,
An 1 young men dreamers ! So I left my home
With that wild seaman.
The villain whom I trusted, when we reached
T!i3 bark Ii3 rulei, cast ni3 to chains and darkness,
And so to sea. At length no land in sight,
His crew dark, swarthy men the refuse crimes
Of many lands (for he, it seems a pirate)
CalPd me on deck struck off my fetters : " Boy ! "
He said, and grimly smiled : " not mine the wrong ;
Thy chains are forged from gold, the gold of those
Who gave thee birth ! "
I wrench'd
From his own hand the blade it bore, and struck
The slanderer to my feet. With that, a shout,
A hundred knives g'eam'd round me ; but the pirate,
Wiping the gore from his gaslrd brow, cried " Hold !
Such death were mercy/' Thsn they grip d an I bound me
To a slight plank spread to the wind their sails,
And left me on the waves alone with God !
That day, and all that night, upon the seas
Toss'd the frail barrier between life and death.
Heaven lull'd the gales ; and when the stars came forth,
All look'd so bland and gentle that I wept,
Recall'd that wretch's words, and murmur'd, " Wave
And wind are kinder than a parent."
Day dawn'd, and glittering in the sun, behold
A sail a flag !
It pass'd away,
And saw me not. Noon, and then thirst and famine ;
And, with parch 'd lips, I call'd on death, and sought
To wrench my limbs from the stiff cords that gnaw'd
Into the flesh, and drop into the deep ;
And then methought I saw beneath tho clear
And crystal lymph, a dark, swift-moving thing,
With watchful glassy eyes the ocean-monster
That follows ships for prey. Then life once more
Grew sweet, and with a straine 1 and horrent gaze,
OUR HEROES. 65
And lifted hair, I floated- on, till sense
Grew dim and diralier, and a terrible sleep,
la which still, still those livid eyes met mine,
Fell on me.
I awoke, and heard
My native tongue. Kind looks were bent upon me ;
I lay on deck, escaped the ghastly death
For God had watch'd the sleeper !
OUE HEEOES.
JOHN A. A^DHEW.
THE heart swells with unwonted emotion when we re-
member our sons and brothers whose constant valor has sus-
tained, on the field, the cause of our country, of civilization,
and liberty. On the ocean, on the rivers, on the land, on
the heights where they thundered down from the clouds
of Lookout Mountain the defiance of the skies, they have
graven with their swords a record imperishable.
The Muse herself demands the lapse of silent years to
soften, by the influences of Time, her too keen and poignant
realization of the scenes of War the pathos, the heroism,
the fierce joy, the grief of battle. But, during the ages to
come, she will brood over their memory. Into the hearts of
her consecrated priests she will breathe the inspirations of
lofty and undying beauty, sublimity, and truth, in all the
glowing forms of speech, of literature, and plastic art. By
the homely traditions of tho fireside, by the head-stones in
the church-yard consecrated to those whose forms repose far
off in rude graves by the Rappahannock, or sleep beneath the
sea, embalmed in the memories of succeeding generations
of parents and children, the heroic dead will live on in im-
mortal youth. By their names, their character, their service,
their fate, their glory, they cannot fail :
" They never fail who die
In a great cause ; the block may soak their goro j
66 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Their heads may sodden in the sun, their limbs
Be strung to city gates and castle wall ;
But still their spirit .walks abroad. 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."
The edict of Mantes, maintaining the religious liberty of
the Huguenots, gave lustre to the fame of Henry the Great,
whose name will gild the pages of history after mankind
may have forgotten the material prowess and the white plume
' of Navarre. The Great Proclamation of Liberty will lift the
ruler who uttered it, our nation and our age, above all vul-
gar destiny.
The bell which rang out the Declaration of Independence
has found at last a voice articulate, to " proclaim liberty
throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof."
It has been heard across oceans, and has modified the senti-
ments of cabinets and kings. The people of the Old World
have heard it, and their hearts stop to catch the last whis"
per of its echoes. The poor slave has heard it, and with
bounding joy, tempered by the mystery of religion, he wor-
ships and adores. The waiting continent has heard it, and
already foresees the fulfilled prophecy, when she will sit
" redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistible
Genius of Universal Emancipation."
THE CLOSING YEAE.
GEORGE D. PBENTIOB.
'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er
The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling 'tis the knell
Of the departed year. No funeral train
Is sweeping past ; yot ; on the stream and wood,
THE CLOSING YEAR. 67
With melancholy light, the moon-beams rest
Like a pale, spotless shroud ; the air is stirred
As by a mourner's sigh ; and on yon cloud
That floats so still and placidly through heaven.
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand,
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form,
And Winter with its aged locks, and breathe,
In mournful cadences that come abroad
Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail,
A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year,
Gone from the Earth forever.
Tis a time
For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
Still chambers of the heart, a spectre dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard's voice of Time
Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
4 And holy visions that have passed away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts
The coffin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love,
And bending mournfully above the pale,
Sweet forms, that slumber there, scatters dead flowers
O'er what has passed to nothingness.
The year
Has gone, and with it, many a glorious throng
Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow,
Its shadow in each heart. In its swift course,
It waved its sceptre o'er the beautiful,
And they are not. It laid its pallid hand
Upon the .strong man, and the haughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged
The bright and joyous, and the tearful wail
Of stricken ones is heard where erst the song
And reckless shout resounded.
RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
It passed o'er
The battle-plain where sword, and spear, and shield,
Flashed in the light of raid-day, and the strength
Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass,
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crushed and mouldering skeleton. It came,
And faded like a wreath of mist at eve ;
Yet ere it melted in the viewless air
It heralded its millions to their home
In the dim land of dreams.
Remorseless Time !
Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe ! what power
Can stay him in his silent course, or melt
His iron heart to pity '] On, still on,
He presses, and forever. The proud bird,
The condor of the Andes, that can soar
Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave
The fury of the northern hurricane,
And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home,
Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down
To rest upon his mountain crag, but Time
Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness,
And night's deep darkness has no chain to bind
His rushing pinions.
Revolutions sweep
O'er earth, like troubled visions o'er the breast
Of dreaming sorrow, cities rise and sink
Like bubbles on the water, fiery isles
Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back
To their mysterious caverns, mountains rear
To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow
Their tall heads to the plain, new empires rise,
Gathering the strength of hoary centuries,
And rush down like the Alpine avalanche,
Startling the nations, and the very stars,
Yon bright and burning blazonry of God,
Glitter a while in their eternal depths,
BURIAL OF LITTLE NELL. 69
And, like the Pleiads, loveliest of their train,
Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away
To darkle in the trackless void, Yet, Time,
Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce career,
Dark, stern, all-pitiless, and pauses riot
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path
To sit and muse, like other conquerors
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.
BUEIAL OF LITTLE NELL.
CHARLES DICKENS.
N morning came, and they could speak more calmly
on the subject of their grief, they heard how her life had
closed.
She had been dead two days. They were all about her at
bhe time, knowing that the end was drawing on. She died
soon after daybreak. They had read and talked to her in
bhe earlier portion of the night, but as the honrs crept on,
she sunk to sleep. They could tell by what she faintly
uttered in her dreams, that they were of her journey ings
with the old man ; they were of no painful scenes, but of
those who had helped and used them kindly, for she often
said " God bless you ! " with great fervor. Waking, she
never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at beau-
biful music which she said was in the air. God knows. It
may have been.
Opening her eyes at last, from a very quiet sleep, she beg-
ged that they would kiss her once again. That done, she
burned to the old man with a lovely smile upon her face
such, they said, as they had never seen, and never could for-
get and clung with both her arms about his neck. They
did not know that she was dead at first.
She had spoken very often of the two sisters, who, she
said, were like dear friends to her. She wished they could
70 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
be told how much she thought about them, and how she had
watched them as they walked together by the river side at
night. She would like to see poor Kit, she had often said
of late. She wished there was somebody to take her love to
Kit. And even then, she never thought or spoke about him
but with something of her old, clear, merry laugh.
For the rest, she had never murmured or complained ; but,
with a quiet mind, and manner quite unaltered save that
she every day became more earnest and more grateful to
them faded like the light upon the summer's evening.
The child who had been her little friend came there almost
as soon as it was day, with an offering of dried flowers, which
he begged them to lay upon her breast. It was he who had
come to the window over night and spoken to the sexton,
and they saw in the snow traces of small feet, where he had
been lingering near the room in which she lay before he
went to bed. He had a fancy, it seemed, that they had left
her there alone ; and could not bear the thought.
He told them of his dream again, and that it was of her
being restored to them, just as she used to be. He begged
hard to see her, saying that he would be very quiet, and that
they need not fear his being alarmed, for he had sat alone by
his younger brother all day long, when he was dead, and had
felt glad to be so near him. They let him have his wish ; ,
and indeed he kept his word, and was in his childish way a
lesson to them all.
Up to that time the old man had not spoken once except
to her or stirred from the bedside. But when he saw her
little favorite, he was moved as they had not seen him yet,
and made as though he would have him come nearer. Then
pointing to the bed he burst into tears for the first time, and
they who stood by, knowing that the sight of this child had
done him good, left them alone together.
Soothing him with his artless talk of her, the child per-
suaded him to take some rest, to walk abroad, to do almost
as he desired him. And when the day came on, which must
remove her in her earthly shape from earthly eyes forever,
BURIAL OF LITTLE NELL. 71
he led him away, that he might not know when she was
taken from him.
They were to gather fresh leaves and berries for her bed.
It was Sunday a bright clear, wintry afternoon and as
they traversed the village street, those who were walking in
their path drew back to make way for them, and gave them
a softened greeting. Some shook the old man kindly by the
hand, some stood uncovered while he tottered by, and many
cried " God help him ! " as he passed along.
" Neighbor ! " said the old man, stopping at the cottage
where his young guide's mother dwelt, " how is it that the
folks are nearly all in black to-day ? I have seen a mourn-
ing ribbon or a piece of crape on almost every one."
She could not tell, the woman said.
" "Why, you yourself you wear the color too ! " he cried.
"Windows are closed that never used to be by day. What
does this mean ? "
Again the woman said she could not tell.
"We must go back," said the old man, hurriedly. "We
must see what this is."
" No, no," cried the child, detaining him. " Remember
what you promised. Our way is to the old green lane,
where she and I so often were, and where you found us more
than once making those garlands for her garden. Do not
turn back ! "
" Where is she now ? " said the old man. " Tell me that."
" Do you not know ? " returned the child. " Did we not
leave her but just now ? "
" True. True. It icas her we left was it ! "
He pressed his hand upon his brow, looked vacantly round,
and as if impelled by a sudden thought, crossed the road, and
entered the sexton's houso. He and his deaf assistant were
sitting before the fire. Bath rose up, on seeing who it was.
The child made a hasty sign to them with his hand. It
was the action of an instant, but that, and the old man's
look, were quite enough.
" Do you do you bury any one to-day V ** he said eagerly.
72 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
" No, no ! Who should we bury, sir r " returned the
sexton.
" Ay, who indeed ! I say with you, who indeed ? "
" It is a holiday with us, good sir," returned the sexton
mildly. " We have no work to do to-day."
" Why then, I'll go where you will," said the old man,
turning to the child. " You're sure of what you tell me ?
You would not deceive me ? I am changed even in the little
time since you last saw me."
" Go thy ways with him, sir," cried the sexton, " and
Heaven be with ye both ! "
" I am quite ready," said the old man, meekly. " Come,
boy, come " and so submitted to be led away.
And now the bell the bell she had so often heard by
night and day, and listened to with solemn pleasure almost
as a living voice rung its remorseless toll for her, so young,
so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age, and vigorous life, and
blooming youth, and helpless infancy, poured forth on
crutches, in the pride of strength and health, in the full
blush of promise, in the mere dawn of life to gather round
her tomb. Old men were there, whose eyes were dim and
senses failing grandmothers, who might have died ten years
ago, and still been old the deaf, the blind, the lame, the
palsied, the living dead in many shapes and forms, to see the
closing of that early grave. What was the death it would
shut in, to that which still could crawl and creep above it !
Along the crowded path they bore her now ; pure as the
newly-fallen snow that covered it ; whose day on earth had
been as fleeting. Under that porch, where she had sat when
Heaven in its mercy brought her to that peaceful spot, she
passed again, and the old church received her in its quiet
shade.
They carried her to one old nook, where she had many
and many a time sat musing, and laid their burden softly
on the pavement. The light streamed on. it through the
colored window a window, where the boughs of trees
were ever rustling in the summer, and where the birds sang
BURIAL OF LITTLE NELL. 73
sweetly all day long. With every breatli of air that stirred
among those branches in the sunshine, some trembling,
changing light, would fall upon her grave.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Many a young
hand dropped in its little wreath, many a stifled sob was
heard. Some and they were not a few knelt down. All
were sincere and truthful in their sorrow.
The service done, the mourners stood apart, and the vil-
lagers closed round to look into the grave before the pave-
ment stone should be replaced. One called to mind how
he had seen her sitting on that very spot, and how her
book had fallen on her lap, and she was gazing with a pen-
sive face upon the sky. Another told, how he had wondered
much that one so delicate as she, should be so bold ; how
she had never feared to enter the church alone at night, but
had loved to linger there when all was quiet ; and even to
climb the tower stair, with no more light than that of the
moon rays stealing through the loopholes in the thick old
wall. A whisper went about among the oldest there, that
she had seen and talked with angels : and when they called
to mind how she had looked, and spoken, and her early
death, some thought it might be so indeed. Thus, coming
to the grave in little knots, and glancing down, and giving
place to others, and falling off in whispering groups of three
or four, the church was cleared in time of all but the sexton
and the mourning friends.
They saw the vault covered and the stone fixed down.
Then, when the dusk of evening had come on, and not a
sound disturbed the sacred stillness of the place when the
bright moon poured in her light on tomb and monument,
on pillar, wall, and arch, and most of all (it seemed to them)
upon her quiet grave in that calm time, when all outward
things and inward thoughts teem with assurance of immor-
tality, and worldly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust
before them then, with tranquil and submissive hearts they
turned away, and left the child with God.
Oh I it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths
74 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must
learn, and is a mighty universal Truth. When Death strikes
down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from
which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise,
in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world,
and bless it with their light. Of every tear that sorrowing
mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some
gentler nature conies. In the Destroyer's steps there spring
up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path
becomes a way of light to Heaven.
THE PICKET-GUAKD.
ANONYMOUS.
"ALL quiet along the Potomac," the}- say,
" Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing : a private or two, now and then,
Will not count in the news of the battle ;
Not an officer lost, only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle."
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming :
Their tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon,
Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming.
A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves softly is creeping ;
While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard, for the army is sleeping.
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain.
And he thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed,
Far away in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack ; his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
THE POOR MAX AND THE FIEND. 75
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
For their mother, may Heaven defend her !
The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then,
That night when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips, when low, murmured vows
Were pledged to be ever unbroken,
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place,
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree,
The foot-step is lagging and weary ;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shades of the forest so dreary.
Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves 1
Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ?
It looked like a rifle : " lla ! Mary, good-bye ! "
And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
No sound save the rush of the river ;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead,
The picket's off duty forever.
THE POOE MAN AND THE FIEND.
REV. MR. MACLELLAN.
A FIEND once met a humble man
At night, in the cold dark street,
And led him into a palace fair,
Where music circled sweet ;
And light and warmth cheered the wanderer's heart,
From frost and darkness screened,
Till his brain grew mad beneath the joy,
And he worshipped before the Fiend.
7fi RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Ah ! well if he ne'er had knelt to that Fiend,
For a task-master grim was he ;
And he said, " One-half of thy life on earth
I enjoin thee to yield to me ;
And when, from rising till set of sun,
Thou hast toiled in the heat or snow,
Let thy gains on mine altar an offering be ;"
And the poor man ne'er said " No ! "
The poor man had health, more dear than gold ;
Stout bone and niuscle strong,
That neither faint nor weary grew,
To toil the June day long ;
And the Fiend, his god, cried hoarse and loud,
" Thy strength thoti must forego,
Or thou no worshipper art of mine ;"
And the poor man ne'er said " No ! "
Three children blest the poor man's home
Stray angels dropped on earth
The Fiend beheld their sweet blue eyes,
And he laughed in fearful mirth :
" Bring forth thy little ones," quoth he,
" My godhead wills it so !
I want an evening sacrifice ;"
And the poor man ne'er said " No ! "
A young wife sat by the poor man's fire,
Who, since she blushed a bride,
Had gilded his sorrow, and brightened his joys
His guardian, friend, and guide.
Foul fall the Fiend ! he gave command.
" Come, mix the cup of woe,
Bid thy young wife drain it to the dregs ;"
And the poor man ne'er said " No ! "
Oh ! misery now for this poor man !
Oh ! deepest of miser}* !
Next the Fiend his godlike Reason took,
And amongst beasts fed he ;
OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. 77
And when the sentinel Mind was gone,
He pilfered his Soul also ;
And marvel of marvels ! he murmured not ;
The poor man ne'er said " No ! "
Now, men and matrons in your prime,
Children and grandsires old,
Come listen, with soul as well as ear,
This saying whilst I unfold ;
Oh, listen ! till your brain whirls round,
And your heart is sick to think,
That in England's isle all this befell,
And the name of the Fiend was DRINK !
CUE COUNTEY'S CALL.
WILLIAM CULLEN BKTANT.
LAY down the axe, fling by the spade :
. Leave in its track the toiling plough ;
The rifle and the bayonet-blade
For arms like yours were fitter now ;
And let the hands that ply the pen
Quit the light task, and learn to wield
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein
The charger on the battle-field.
Our country calls ; away ! away !
To where the blood-stream blots the green.
Strike to defend the gentlest sway
That Time in all its course has seen.
See, from a thousand coverts see
Spring the armed foes that haunt her track ;
They rush to smite her down, and we
Must beat the banded traitors back.
Ho ! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave,
And moVcd as soon to fear and flight,
78 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Men of the glade and forest ! leave
Your woodcraft for the field of fight.
The arms that wield the axe must pour
An iron tempest on the foe ;
His serried ranks shall reel before
The arm that lays the panther low.
And ye who breast the mountain storm
By grassy steep or highland lake,
Come, for the land ye love, to form
A bulwark that no foe can break.
Stand, like your own grey cliffs that mock
The whirlwind ; stand in her defence :
The blast as soon shall move the rock,
As rushing squadrons bear ye thence.
And ye, whose homes are by her grand
Swift rivers, rising far away,
Come from the depths of her green land
As mighty in your march as they ;
As terrible as when the rains
Have swelled them over bank and bourne
With sudden floods to drown the plains
And sweep along the woods uptorn.
And ye who throng beside the deep,
Her ports and hamlets of the strand,
In number like the waves that leap
On his long murmuring marge of sand,
Come, like that deep, when o'er his brim
He rises, all his floods to pour,
And flings the proudest barks that swim
A helpless wreck against his shore.
Few, few were they whose swords of old
Won the fair land in which we dwell ;
But we are many, we who hold
Tho grim resolva to irnard it well.
THE ORPHAN'S TRIUMPH. 79
Strike for that broad and goodly land
Blow after blow, till men shall see
That Might and Right move hand in hand,
And glorious must their triumph be.
THE ORPHAN'S TRIUMPH.
A COLLOQUY IN THREE SCENES.
F. B. WILSON.
Characters.
AMY HARTWELL, the Orphan,
HATTIE AINSWORTH, AMY'S friend,
JANE SANDERS,
FANNIE BLANCHARD,
MRS. AINSWORTH,
MRS. GRANTON, a heartless widow.
SCENE I. A -parlor. Number of ladies seated, employed in various
kinds of work. MRS. AINSWORTH, Miss HATTJE AINSWORTH, Miss
JANE SANDERS, Miss FANNIE BLANCHARD, MRS. GRANTON, and
others.
Miss JANE SANDERS. What an excitement Mr. Hart-
well's failure created in our little quiet city I indeed we have
hardly gotten over the shock as yet. I wonder what next
will take place to cause an excitement. I do think it is so
dull here.
Miss FANNIE BLANCHARD. Such incidents as that do
change the monotony of city life. But I wonder what
Miss Hart well will do to support herself ; she is so young,
has never done any work, and I suppose she would rather
beg than work. I do not pity her in the least. She always
appeared to esteem herself above the other ladies in the
city. I think this will have a tendency to lower her pride.
JANE. She has kept herself very close dnco her father's
80 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
failure. I wonder if she thinks any one will sympathize with
her ?
MRS. AIXSWORTH. I know how to feel for her. Left
motherless when but a child, her whole heart was filled
with love to her kind father. His failure might have
caused her pain, but his failure and his death must well
nigh crush her young spirit. Hattie has been to see her
several times during the last few days, but 'tis hard to give
consolation in an hour of such deep sorrow.
FAXXIE. Yet can you feel pained to see her in such a sit-
uation ? You must certainly know that pride is the cause
of this great sorrow.
MRS. AIXSWORTH. Amy is not proud. She is too pure,
too good, too innocent, to have any feeling of foolish pride.
You know her not when you say that pride is the cause of
her sorrow. "Tis the love she bore her father. When he
knew of his failure the blow was so severe it caused his
death. Amy is now alone in the world. Poor, no friends
to care for her, none to love.
MRS. GRAXTOX. It seems to me we are becoming con-
cerned in the welfare of those we hardly know. A man
fails ! a man dies ! and all the city comment. Some with
feigned pity, some with joy. Yet few that pity feel the force
of their sayings. Let us change the subject, and have some-
thing lively to intersperse our conversation. I for one am
not partial to subjects that call forth sorrowful feelings.
My theory is the theory of the world ; a man fails in business
and he loses his position in society, and he takes his family
with him. If we have sought their society prior to this, we
should now shun it. ( Walks up and down stage.) Life has its
ups and downs ; some are ever joyful and ever happy. I
hate those that always frown. (Sings leil rings.)
MRS. AIXSWORTH. The tea bell ; come ladies all. (Exeunt
all but HATTIE AIXSWORTH.)
Miss HATTIE AIXSWORTII. Must I believe that that com-
pany have expressed the sentiments of the place ? Is there
no one who will lend a helping hand to my dar friend
THE ORPHAN'S TRIUMPH. 81
Amy ? Oh ! what a heartless world is this. How cruel !
how cruel ! Yet I will ever be her friend. I will ever be
near to assist and comfort her. Few know Amy as I know
her ; few feel toward her as I do ; and hand in hand we will
travel together. One thought comes : "Will it will it change
the mind of him, who, a short time ago pledged her his
love ; and then, with her consent, joined the ranks of the
defenders of human liberty. Why think a moment of this ?
He cannot, he will not prove false. Poverty may be her lot,
friends may fail her, yet I believe Mr. Branton will ever be
true.
Enter MRS. GRANTON, L.
MRS. GRANTON. I left the paper here ; I came to get it to
read at the table. "Why do you not come to tea, Hattie,
child ?
HATTIE. I feel so badly when I think of poor Amy Hart-
well. Mrs. Granton, you know not how much I love her.
MRS. GRANTON. Why let her misfortune trouble you?
How foolish you are. (Laughs.) Just drop her name from
your list of acquaintances think no more of her. (Aside.)
What strange people there are in this world. Some would
spend their whole life in weeping, I really believe ; but I
am not one of the number. No ! no ! Catch me crying and
mourning because one friend dies. Why, when my husband
died, I never shed a single tear ; yet I pitied the poor man.
He is the only husband I ever had, but I think that I may
get another yet. (Sighs.) Some ladies get married that are
older than I. When I think of my poor husband I -cannot
but laugh, he was so peculiar. He used often ask me if I
was entirely heartless. Just as though there was such a
thing as a heart. Ho well knew that I was determined to
"have my own way, and coaxing and persuasion couldn't
move me. My advice to all married ladies is let your hus-
band know who's mistress. (Turns to HATTIE.) What, Hattie,
crying ? Some people always cry when they would laugh ;
perhaps 'tis so with Hattie. (Belt rings.) The tea bell rings
again ; come, Hattie ! (Exit.)
82 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
HATTIE. I am alone again ; how I dread that woman's
presence. How different is she from my mother ! Amy
claims all my thoughts at present. (Bell rings.} The door
bell. Would that Amy is the one ushered in.
Door opens. Enter A:HY. J&ribracc.
Miss AMY HARTWELL. I have come to see you, Hattie, at
last. This is the first time I have been from home since dear
pa's death. Oh ! how blank, how blank appears the world
to me. My heart is bowed down with grief. To you alone
can I come for consolation. Do you know, Hattie, that you
are the only one that has called and spoken kind words to
me since pa's death. To you would I confide all at this
time. You will not forsake me, will you, Hattie ?
HATTIE. Dearest Amy, nothing can sever my love for you.
Dearer are you now than ever. Tell me anything, every-
thing, and if I can aid you in any manner, gladly will I
assist you all in my power.
AMY. My father's creditors will take everything. Yet
pa's lawyer tells me that all his debts can . be paid and my
piano, library, etc., will not be taken from me. I am glad
to think that no one will suffer but myself. Every dollar of
pa's debts will be paid. Now, Hattie, I must do something
to support myself. I can teach music, French, and paint-
ing, and I want you to assist me in getting up classes. I
must go at work at once.
HATTIE. You need not teach, Amy ; ma has told me to
have you come and live with me. You know I intimated it
to you yesterday.
- AMY. I could not be happy, Hattie, feeling that I was a
dependent. I will stay with you for a short time, but I am
determined to support myself. You are very kind. My
truest and best friend. God will reward you if I never
can.
HATTIE. I cannot bear the idea of your teaching, Amy.
Come and live with me, and we will talk of this again.
THE ORPHAN'S TKIUMPH. 83
God does nothing worng. (AMY leans her head on HATTIE'S
shoulder.} He will ever be our friend.
CURTAIX.
" SCENE II. Same as Scene I. AMY seated alone.
AMY. 'Tis now six months since dear pa died. All who
were proud to call me their friend then, have deserted me,
except dear Mrs. Airisworth and Hattie ; never could I for-
get their kindness. My income from my classes makes me
a comfortable living. Yet there is a blank that cannot be
filled. I wonder why it is that he does not write. Strange !
I have written several letters and received no answer. Can
it be that he will Xo ! I will not think it. Yet his name
has not appeared on the list of wounded or killed after any
battle. What can it mean ? God grant that he may yet
live ! May he be sustained and preserved by that all-wise
Being.
Enter MRS. AINSWORTH, L.
MRS. AIXSWORTII. You will try and be back from your
classes early to-day, will you not, Amy ? I expect the Misses
Sanders and Blanchard at tea this afternoon, also, Mrs.
Grant on.
AMY. I do not believe that any of them would care for
my company. Not one of them will recognize me in the
street when I meet them ; so you will excuse me, Mrs. Ains-
worth, if I should not be back in time to see them ?
MRS. AINSWORTII. I did not know, Amy, that this was the
case ; but act your own pleasure. I would like to see you
go in society more than you do. You will wear yourself
out with your weary labors.
AMY. Society has no charms for me now ; my thoughts
are far away. Yes, Mrs. Amsworth, you know what I would
say. Mystery surrounds me on every hand. Good morn-
ing, my dear protector. (Kisses her. Exit.}
MRS. AIXSWORTH. There goes one whose heart is pure,
innocent, and yet troubled. Her affection is so deep, so
84 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
earnest, who could help loving her ': Yes, I know what she
would say. A lover's long 'silence causes her deep grief.
Can it be that he will leave her ? Can it be that money
taught him to love Amy Hartwell ? I will not believe it.
He, too," was noble, generous, and brave. Like many other
noble young men, he went to battle for the preservation of
right; and to uphold his country's banner unstained.
Wealth, friends and luxury surrounded him on every hand ;
yet he could not resist his country's call. All honor to the
battle- worn heroes, who are now suffering that the nation
may live. I trust that the hand which leads the armies
forth to battle, which sustains the weary soldiers, will still
guide him and restore him to his loved home in safety. (Exit.)
Enter JANE SANDERS and FANNIE BLANCHARD. Come to front of
stage.
JAXE. How well our little plot has succeeded! Little
does she think that I have been receiving and reading the
letters written to and by her. But I fear I shall not have
the pleasure of reading any more of them, for it is now
nearly two months since he has written.
FAXXIE. You have been successful, truly. During niy
absence from the city, you gave me to understand in your
letters that our plot was successful ; yet you did not tell me
all the particulars connected with it. I cannot understand
it all. How did you manage to intercept her letters.
JAXE. My cousin, you know, is assistant postmaster. I
let him into the secret. I told him that any letters Amy
Hartwell sent to Mr. Branton must not leave the office ;
and also, all letters that came to her from him must be
handed to me. Wasn't it splendid ? I have had the benefit
of all their correspondence, free gratis. (Laughs.) I think it
will prove very beneficial to me in my epistolary corres-
pondence hereafter. Good practical hints, you know ?
FAXXIE. Indeed they will be ! Now you must let me read
them some time. I shall enjoy it very much. But Jane,
THE ORPHAN'S TRIUMPH. 8.3
have you any reason to feel encouraged in. this matter. Do
you really think Mr. Bran ton will forget her ?
JANE. Oh ! yes ; I can see my way clear, though he wrote
some very nice letters to Miss Hartwell after the news of
her father's failure reached him. But you know, Fannie, he
never could marry her now. Just think ; a poor teacher ;
Mr. Braiitoii would iucir toap no /.-/>/.
FANNIE. I always thought that he used to be quite partial
to you. I am glad you have succeeded so well. I wonder
where Miss Amy is to-day? Mrs. Ainsworth has taken an
especial interest in her welfare, it seems to me.
JANE. Yes ; I wonder at it ; and Hattie is quite doting. I
do not like it at all ; shall speak with Hattie to-day. She
, will certainly lose the respect of her associates if she con-
tinues to show so much favor to Amy Hartwell.
Enter MRS. AINSWORTH and GRANTON, L.
MRS. GRANTON. Enjoying yourselves I suppose, girls ?
That's right. I don't wonder you seek a quiet place. Girls
will be girls. Nor will they ever trust their love secrets
with a widow. Why is it ?
JANE. Cannot you answer the question, Mrs. Graiiton ?
Truly, there must be a reason, but I cannot tell it.
MRS. GRANTON. (LaitgJus.] Because she knows too much.
Love ! nonsense ! pooh ! Ask Mrs. Ainsworth to define it ;
she will tell you 'tis but the wild dreams of foolish maidens.
A mere fancy.
MRS. AiNSWORTn. Your experience ?i? life, Mrs. Granton,
and mine are very different. The true woman loves her
husband devotedly ; words fail to describe it.
MRS. GRANTON. Well, I'll not argue ; I don't like to
trouble my brain enough for that. But you do remind me
of some of the characters represented in the current litera-
ture of the day. A fancied idea existing in the brain of
some poor author ; all delusion. Why should we pretend
tc feel sad when we are joyous. Only the next evening after
my husband's death I attended a ball. What a magnificent
86 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
time we had. I almost wished he were there to enjoy it.
(Laughs.} Foolish wish, wasn't it ? He is undoubtedly bet-
ter off; he has now no wife to quarrel with him ; and she
has no husband to pester her. (Laughs.}
Enter HATTIE AINS WORTH, L.
FANNIE. Has Miss Hartwell returned from her classes ?
HATTIE. -I think not ; she does not return until late, gen-
erally. Her classes keep her very busy during the week.
Saturday and the Sabbath are the only days she has for
rest, poor girl !
JANE. Why should you feel so badly on her account ? She
ought feel very grateful for what you have already done.
HATTIE. She does feel grateful ; and many a little kind-
ness, many a gentle word, many a sweet whisper assures me
that she does not forget, nor fail to duly appreciate every
kindness or look she receives from me.
MRS. GRANTON. Come, Hattie, let us go into the parlor and
have some music. (Aside.) Anything to change the subject.
(Aloud.) Perhaps we may have some dancing, too ; yet that
would be dry without some gentlemen. But when I attend-
ed boarding school, I was sent to an institution composed
exclusively of young ladies, and we used to have some jolly
dances, though our partners were ladies. (Exeunt all. MRS.
GRANTON comes lack.)
MRS. GRANTON. And I forgot my fan ; just like me. Mr.
Havner passed along the street, too. Had I my fan I might
have displayed my diamond ring, but well I will not
trouble my poor brain about the dear man. Husbands are
a nuisance, but lovers are are are I can't think what it
is Oh ! yes they're fools. (Exit.)
CURTAIN.
SCENE III. Same cs Scene I. and II. TJwee years interval.
FANNIE and JANE standing near each other.
JAJSTE. Yesterday the gallant regiment returned, but he
THE ORPHAN'S TRIUMPH. 87
did not come. Why is this ? Many others have been struck
down, yet his name has never entered the fatal list.
FAXXIE. He may have been promoted ; possibly he does
not now belong to the regiment ? Perhaps he has no desire
to return to the city again ; but has gone to seek another
home ?
JANE. I know not what to think. I have not questioned
any of the soldiers as yet, concerning his welfare ; nor do I
think I shall. Oh ! I hate the looks of those faded blue
jackets. How different do the boys appear than they did
when they went from home.
FAXXIE. I do not believe, Jane, that I shall ever associate
with, them again. They are so tanned, some of them have
received such ugly wounds, I cannot endure them at all.
But we made a grand display when they returned, didn't we ?
JAXE. I had a gay time that day.
Enter, unperceived by them, HATTIE, I*,
I expected to see Mr. Brartton ; had a splendid bouquet
made expressly for him.
FAXXIE. Have you heard anything directly from him
lately ?
JAXE. Well, no, not exactly direct. But he writes, or
that is he did write to my cousin ; always sent some mis-
sive to me, you know. I have certainly gained one point if
I have lost another ; though he may never call me wife, I
am sure that Miss Amy will never be more to him than she
now is.
FAXXIE. What a funny little plot we made ? Who would
have thought that we had such inventive brains ? Couldn't
we make quite a story of it, Jane V All that is now neces^
sary to make the story read well, is, for Mr. Branton to
return and marry you. We could give our story that old
name, "Pride must have a fall." The letters that you inter-
cepted would be an exhibition of true love, you know.
Amy's circumstances are a little too pleasant to make the
story real interesting, but we could fix. that all right.
88 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
HATTIE. (Aside.) I I know it all. The secret the plot
is now known to me. I will go, and if possible, make Amy
happy yet. (Exit.}
Enter MRS. GRANTON, R.
Mns. GRANTOX. Quite exciting times we had yesterday ?
How patriotic are the ladies of this city ! Everybody says
so. (Laughs.) How many covered their eyes, not to restrain
the tears, for no traces of tears could be found there, but to
make others think they could not be comforted. I thought
they all enjoyed themselves hugely at the dance last evening.
Didn't we have a grand time, girls ? Widower Panson was
positively charmed with me.
JANE. Would that a regiment would return every week, if
such pleasant scenes would take place !
MRS. GRAXTON. Then we get so many compliments for our
patriotism 1 so many good wishes ; but I must go. I have
some shopping to which I must attend. (A*ide.) There is such
a splendid clerk in the corner store, he is just just well, if
you knew him you would not deny it.
JAXE. We will accompany you. (Exeunt ally R.)
Enter AMY, L.
AMY. Though troubled, weary and care-worn, time seems
to pass with wonderful rapidity. Weeks, months, and years
have rolled away since last I met him. A long silence un-
broken remains. Oh ! that my terrible doubts were dis-
pelled ! Can it be that he has perished ? Can it be that his
life was required for the establishment of freedom and union ?
Or has he deserted me ? I know I am not worthy of him ; I
know he is noble, and that he will become honored. Why
did he not write me and tell me to think no more of him ?
Why has he not come with the regiment ? Who can answer
these questions ? Who can disperse my doubts ? WTiere is
Hattie at this time ? She perhaps can no ! no ! none can
solve the mystery. A thought ; come, I will write to the
commanding oSicer of tho regiment, and, if possible, learn
POEM AT GETTYSBURG. 89-
where lie is ; this is my last hope, this will forever dispel
my anxiety. I tremble to think of it, yet
Enter HATTIE, R.
HATTIE. I have good news for you, Amy. The story is
a long one, but I will try to be brief. (Takes both AMY'S hands
in her own.) I have been to see the Colonel of the regiment,
and have learned that Mr. Branton is still alive, still loves
you. He has been on detached service much of the time
and none of your letters have reached him. I overheard the
Misses Sanders and Blanchard talking this morning, and
learned from them that they had intercepted both your let-
ters and his. 'Twas a deep, dark plot, but I rejoice with
you to-night, that their scheme was fruitless and that Mr.
Branton is still true.
AMY. I cannot tell you, Hattie, the deep, pure joy that fills
my soul. Yes, I am happy to-night, and I can truly say
that I forgive the plotters their dreadful wrong, and now
leave them to make their peace with God.
CURTAIN.
POEM BEAD AT THE FOUNDING OF GETTYS-
BURG MONUMENT.
COLONEL C. G. HALPINE (MILES o'REILLEY).
As men beneath some pang of grief,
Or sudden joy will dumbly stand,
Finding no words to give relief
Clear, passion- warm, complete and brief
To thoughts with which their souls expand,
So here to-day, those trophies nigh,
No fitting words our lips can reach ;
The hills around, the graves, the sky,
The silent poem of the eye,
Surpasses all the art of speech !
90 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
To-day a nation meets to build
A nation's trophy to the dead,
Who, living, formed her sword and shield,
The arms she sadly learned to wield.
When other hope of peace had fled ;
And not alone for those who be
In honored graves before us blest,
Shall our proud column, broad and high,
Climb upward to the blessing sky,
But be for all a monument.
An emblem of our grief as well
For others, as for these, we raise ;
For these beneath our feet who dwell,
And all who in the good cause fell,
On other fields in other frays.
To all the self-same love we bear
Which here for marblel memory strives ;
No soldier for a wreath would care,
Which all true comrades might not share,
Brothers in death as in their lives.
On Southern hill-sides, parched and brown,
In tangled swamps, on verdant ridge,
Where pines and broadening oaks look down,
And jasmine weaves its yellow crown,
And trumpet creepers clothe the hedge,
Along the shores of endless sand.
Beneath the palms of Southern plains,
Sleep everywhere, hand locked in hand,
The brothers of the gallant band
Who here poured life though throbbing veins.
Around the closing eyes of all,
The same red glories glared and flew ;
The hurrying flags, the bugle call,
The whistle of the angry ball,
The elbow-touch of comrade true,
The ski raish fire, a spattering spray,
POEM AT GETTYSBURG. 91
The long sharp growl of fire by file,
The thick'ning fury of the fray
When opening batteries get in play,
And the lines form o'er many a mile.
The foeman's yell, our answering cheer,
Red flashes though the gathering smoke,
Swift orders, resonant and clear,
Blithe cries from comrades, tried and dear,
The shell-scream and the sabre stroke,
The volley fire, from left to right,
From right to left, we hear it swell,
The headlong charges, swift and bright,
The thickening tumult of the fight,
And bursting thunders of the shell.
Now closer, denser, grows the strife,
And here we yield, and there we gain ;
The air with hunting missiles rife,
Volley for volley, life for life ;
No time to heed the cries of pain.
Panting, as up. the hills we charge,
Or down them as we broken roll,
Life never felt so high, so large,
And never o'er so wide a range
In triumph swept the kindling soul.
New raptures waken in the breast,
Amid this hell of scene and sound,
The barking batteries never rest,
And broken foot, by horsemen pressed,
Still stubbornly contest their ground ;
Fresh waves of battle rolling in,
To take the place of shattered waves ;
Torn lines that grow more bent and thin,
A blinding cloud, a maddening din,
'Twas then we filled these very graves.
********
Night falls at length with pitying veil,
92 RECITATIONS AND DIALOG*. 8.
A moonlit silence, deep and fresh.
These upturned faces, stained and pale,
Vainly the chill night dews assail ;
Far colder than the dews their flesh.
And flickering far, through brush and wood,
Go searching parties, torch in hand.
Seize if you can some rest and food,
At dawn the fight will be renewed,
" Sleep on arms ! " the hushed command.
They talk in whispers as (hey lie
In line, these rough and weary men.
" Dead or but wounded 7 '' then a sigh ;
" No coffin either ? " ' Guess we'll try
To get those two guns back again."
" We've five flags to their one, oho ! "
" That bridge ! 'Twas not there as we passed;"
" The Colonel dead ? It can't be ho.
Wounded, badly, that I know.
But he kept saddle to the last."
c: Be sure to send it if I fall ;"
" Any tobacco 1 Bill, have you 1 "
" A brown-hair'd, blue-eyed, laughing doll ;"
"Good-night, boys, and .God keep you. all."
" What, sound asleep ] Guess Fli sleep too.'*
" Aye, just about this hour they pray
For dad." " Stop talking, pass the word ;"
And soon as quite as the clay
Which thousands will but be next day,
The long-drawn sighs of sleep are heard.
Oh ! men. to whom this sketch, though rude,
Calls back some scene of pain and pride ;
Oh! widow, hugging close your brood,
Oh ! wife, with happiness renewed,
Since he again is at your side;
POEM AT GETTYSBURG. 93
This trophy that to-day we raise
Should be a monument for all,
And on its side no niggard phrase
Confine a generous nation's praise
To those who here have chanced to fall.
But let us all to-day combine
Still other monuments to rise ;
Here for the dead we build a shrine,
And now to those who crippled pine
Let us give hope of happier days.
Let homes of those sad wrecks of war
Through all the land with speed arise ; .
They cry from every gaping scar,
" Let not our brother's tomb debar
The wounded living from your eyes."
A noble day, a deed as good,
A noble scene in which 'tis done,
The birth-day of our nationhood,
And here again the nation stood,
On this same day its life renown.
A bloom of banners in the air,
A double calm of sky and soul,
Triumphal chant and bugle blare,
And green fields spreading bright and fair,
As heavenward our hosannas roll.
Hosannas for a land redeemed,
The bayonet sheathed, the cannon dumb ;
Passed as some horror we have dreamed,
The fiery meteors that here streamed,
Threat'ning within our homes to come.
Again our banner floats abroad,
Gone the one stain that on it fell ;
And bettered by his cliast'ning rod,
With streaming eyes uplift to God,
We say, " He doeth all things well."
94 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
SP'AKTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS.
IT had been a day of triumph at Capua. Lentulus, return-
ing with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with
the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent hitherto un-
known, even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revel-
ry had died away ; the roar of the lion had ceased ; the
last loiterers had retired from the banquet ; and the lights
in the palace of the victor were extinguished. The moon,
piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dew-drops on
the cofslet of the Roman sentinel and tipped the dark waters
of Yulturnus with a wavy, tremulous light.
No sound was heard save the last sob of some retiring
wave, telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach ;
and then all was still as the breast when the spirit has de-
parted. In the deep recesses of the amphitheatre, a band
of gladiators assembled ; their muscles still knotted with the
agony of conflict, the foam upon their lips, the scowl of
battle yet lingering on their brows ; when Spartacus, start-
ing forth from amid the throng, thus addressed them : " Ye
call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief who, for twelve
long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man or
beast the broad empire of Home could furnish, and who
never yet lowered his arm. If there be one among you who
can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions
did belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say it. If
there be three in all your company dare face me on the
bloody sands, let them conie on. And yet I was not always
thus, a hired butcher, a savage chief of still more savage
men! My ancestors came from old Sparta, and settled
among the vine-clad rocks and citron groves of Syrasella.
My early life ran quiet as the brooks by which I sported ;
and when at noon I gathered the sheep beneath the shade,
and played upon the shepherd's flute, there was a friend, the
son of n neighbor, to join mo in the pastime. We led
SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS. 95
our flocks to the same pasture, and partook together our
rustic meal. One evening, after the sheep were folded, and
we were all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our
cottage, my graiidsire, an old man, was telling of Ma-
rathon and Leuctra ; and how, in ancient times, a little
band of Spartans, in a defile of the mountains, had
withstood a whole army. I did not then know what war
was ; but my cheeks burned, I knew not why ; and I clasped
the knees of that venerable man, until my mother, parting
the hair from off my forehead, kissed my throbbing temples,
and bade me go to rest, and think 110 more of those old tales
and savage wars. That very night the Romans landed on
our coast. I saw the breast that had nourished me, trampled
by the hoof of the war-horse ; the bleeding body of my father
flung amidst the blazing rafters of our dwelling ! To-day I
killed a man in the arena ; and when I broke his helmet
clasps, behold it was my friend. He knew me, smiled faintly,
gasped, and died ; the same sweet smile upon his lips that I
had marked, when, in adventurous boyhood, we scaled the
lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes, and bear them home in
childish triumph. I told the praetor that the dead man had
been my friend, generous and brave, and I begged that I
might bear away the body, to burn it on a funeral pile, .
and mourn over its ashes. Ay ! upon my knees, amid the
dust and blood of the arena, I begged that poor boon, while
all the assembled maids and matrons, and the holy virgins
they call vestals, and the rabble shouted in derision ;
deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see Home's fiercest gladia-
tor turn pale and tremble at the sight of that piece of bleed-
ing clay !
And the praetor drew back as if I were pollution, and sternly
said : Let the carrion rot ; there are no noble men but Ro-
mans ! And so, fellow-gladiators, must you, and so must I,
die like dogs. Oh, Rome, Rome ! thou hast been a tender
nurso to me ; ay, thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid
shepherd lad, who never knew a harsher tone than a flute
note, muscles of iron and a heart of flint ; taught him to
96 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
drive the sword through plated mail and links of rugged brass,
and warm it in the marrow of his foe ; to gaze into the glar-
ing eyeballs of the fierce Numidian lion, even as a boy upon
a laughing girl I And he shall pay thee back, until the yel-
low Tiber is red as frothing wine, and in its deepest ooze,
thy life blood lies curdled !
" Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are. The strength of
brass is in your toughened sinews ; but to-morrow some
Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume from his curly locks,
shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn and bet his
sesterces upon your blood. Hark ! hear ye yon lion roaring
in his den ^ 'Tis three days since he tasted flesh ; but to-
morrow he shall break his fast upon yours, and a dainty
meal for him ye will be ! If ye are beasts then stand here
like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife ! If ye are men
follow me ! Strike down your guard, gain the mountain
passes, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at old
Thermopylae ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old Grecian spirit
frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a
belabored hound beneath his master's lash ? Oh, comrades !
warriors, Thracians ! If we must fight, let us fight for our-
selves ! . If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors !
If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by the bright
waters, in noble, honorable battle ! "
SOLILOQUY OP THE DYING ALCHEMIST.
THE night wind with a desolate moan swept by ;
And the old shutters of the turret swung,
Creaking upon their hinges ; and the moon,
As the torn edges of the clouds flew past,
Struggled aslant the stained and broken panes
So dimly, that the watchful eye of death
Scarcely was conscious when it went and came.
SOLILOQUY OF THE DYING ALCHEMIST. 97
The fire beneath his crucible was low ;
Yet still it burned ; and ever as his thoughts
Grew insupportable, he raised himself
Upon his wasted arm, and stirred the coals
With difficult energy ; and when the rod
Fell from his nerveless fingers, and his eye
Felt faint within its socket, he shrunk back
Upon his pallet, and with unclosed lips
Muttered a curse on death !
The silent room,
From its dim corners, mockingly gave back
His rattling breath ; the humming in the fire
Had the distinctness of a knell ; and when
Duly the antique horologe beat one,
He drew a vial from beneath his head,
And drank. And instantly his lips compressed,
And, with a shudder in his skeleton frame,
He rose with supernatural strength, and sat
Upright, and communed with himself :
I did not think to die
Till I had finished what I had to do :
I thought to pierce the eternal secret through
With this my mortal eye ;
I felt, God ! It seemeth even now
This cannot be the death-dew on my brow
And yet it is, I feel,
Of this dull sickness at my heart, afraid ;
And in my eyes the death-sparks flash and fade :
And something seems to steal
Over my bosom like a frozen hand,
Binding its pulses with an icy band.
And this is death ! But why
Feel I this wild recoil 1 It. cannot be
98 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
The immortal spirit shuddereth to be free :
Would it not leap to fly
Like a chained eaglet at its parents call ?
I fear I fear that this poor life is all !
Yet thus to pass away !
To live but for a hope that mocks at last,
To agonize, to strive, to watch, to fast,
To waste the light of day,
Night's better beauty, feeling, fancy, thought,
All we have or are for this for naught.
Grant me another year,
God of my spirit ! but a day, to win
Something to satisfy this thirst within '
I would know something here !
Break for me but one seal that is unbroken !
Speak for me but one word that is unspoken !
Vain vain ! my brain is turning
With a swift dizziness, and my heart grows sick,
And these hot temple-throbs come fast and thick,
And I am freezing burning
Dying ! God ! if I might only live !
My vial Ha ! it thrills me ! I revive.
0, but for time to track
The upper stars into the pathless sky,
To see the invisible spirits, eye to eye,
To hurl the lightning back,
To tread unhurt the sea's dim-lighted halls,
To chase day's chariot to the horizon-walls,
And more, much more, for row
The life-sealed fountains of my nature move
To nurse and purify this human love ;
To clear the godlike brow
SOLILOQUY OF THE DYING ALCHEMIST. 99
Of weakness and mistrust, and bow it down,
Worthy and beautiful, to the much-loved one.
This were indeed to feel
The soul-thirst slacken at the living stream,
To live God ! that life is but a dream !
And death Aha ! I reel
Dim dim I faint darkness comes o'er my eye I
Cover me ! save me ! God of heaven ! I die !
'Twas morning, and the old man lay alone.
No friend had closed his eyelids, and his lips,
Open and ashly pale, the expression wore
Of his death-struggle. His long silvery hair
Lay on his hollow temples thin and wild,
His frame was wasted, and his features wan
And haggard as with want, and in his palm
His nails were driven deep, as if the throe
Of the last agony had wrung him sore.
The fire beneath the crucible was out ;
The vessels of his mystic art lay round,
Useless and cold as the ambitious hand
That fashioned them, and the small rod,
Familiar to his touch for three score years,
Lay on the alembic's rirn, as if it still
Might vex the elements at its master's will.
And thus had passed from its unequal frame
A soul of fire, a sun-bent eagle stricken
From his high soaring down, an instrument
Broken with its own compass. 0, how poor
Seems the rich gift cf genius, when it lies,
Like the adventurous bird that hath outflown
His strength upon the sea, ambition wrecked,
A thing the thrush might pity, as she sits
Brooding in quiet on her lowly nest.
100 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
EECONSTEUCTION.
A COLLOQU-Y IN TWO SCENES.
F. B. WILSON.
Characters,
GODDESS OF LIBERTY.
NEGRO RACE, represented by a single person.
BREMER, \
THALWOBTH, / EeMs ^ pardon.
FARNTON. C
TORTEEX, )
COSTUMES. GODDESS OF LIBERTY White dress covered with silver
stars ; red and blue sash ; silvered crown ; liberty pole and cap by her
side. REBELS Citizen '* dress suit. NEGRO Soldier's uniform ; one
hand in sling ; no cap.
SCENE I. GODDESS OF LIBERTY seated ; seat elevated. Stand
near her covered with papers marked "Pardon" She has some in her
hand.
GODDESS. When cruel war was abroad on land and sea ;
when my brave sons were giving their strength, that liberty
might be established ; when I saw the mangled corpses on
many a field of battle, my blood ran cold in my veins, and
sickness brought me nigh to death. But God in his kind
mercy spared me ; and America still lives. Though she has
suffered a baptism of blood ; though her brave sons have
fallen by thousands ; yet millions that were bound by the
accursed chains of slavery are now free. Oh ! God, thou
hast given many blessings to this people, and we pray thee
that thou wilt not desert us, in this, our hour of greatest trial.
The entreaties for "pardon" come to me from those who
have, with the engines of war, attempted to crush the brave,
loyal sons of America ; from those who have made the
young wife a widow, and the motherless, orphans ; who
have, by their fightings, left ti v:ieaiit ch:dr by every fireside
RECONSTRUCTION. 101
throughout the land. Now, can 7 gcaaf them pardon T ^Are
they to be trusted ? Who but Goo. can assist ine to answer
these questions that are thrust upoa 1 me For colutioiu .' ^u^
here come others to ask me to portion wieir 'dreadful wrongs.
Enter four rebels, BREMER, THAL WORTH, FARNTON and TORT E EN.
GODDESS sits with head resting on hand. They arrange themselves in a
semicircle around her.
BREMER. Can we be restored to citizenship ?
THALWORTII. Can we have the rights of freemen restored
to us ?
FARNTON. Do you accept our entreaties for pardon ?
TORTEEN. Have we our rights given us as before ?
GODDESS. Your questions are questions of great moment.
They have a direct bearing on the interests of America.
Can I trust you, who have for four years been enemies to
me ? who have wealth and the power that wealth gives at
your command ;
BREMER. Your interests are our interests ; your land is
our land. We would not injure you, for in so doing we in-
jure ourselves.
GODDESS. Why did you not think of that before rebellion
spread over all our happy land? why did you not use >our
influence to prevent a war ? why did you become our
enemies ?
FARNTON. The questions you ask us are too severe. We
would bury the past ; beg thy pardon for our many offences,
and in the future endeavor to live as American's sons should
live.
GODDESS. Yet I cannot trust you. You must make some
sacrifice ere you can claim to be my sons. Your wealth
gives you too great an influence. Many have been made
poor by your own wickedness, and they have suffered
enough. Take your wealth, give it to them, and then I will
receive you as my children. Do this, become poor ; let those
that are suffering the tortures of poverty be made happy by
your wealth. Begin lifo again, and if you ever become
102 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
wealthy -let it ? pe, 'by;h<>n.esi -toil. Until you do this, pardon
will 11 dt be graiiteclr (52efefe drop their heads) nor the rights
otf ^Lrecsliij) .Tutored. f(Mwtic heard without.)
CURTAIN.
SCENE II. No papers are to be seen. GODDESS alone, standing.
GODDESS. Another important question is being discussed
throughout our land. Shall the negro w>te f Shall color pre-
vent an honest heart from the right of suffrage ? God
created all men free and equal. The black and the white
man are subjects of his creation. They both have a never
dying soul that is destined to live on and on forever. (Ad-
vances, stands with hands clasped about liberty pole, head resting on
them. NEGRO enters, kneels at her feel.) Your master was
restored to citizenship by giving up a few paltry dollars.
He fought my sons, and hurled death's missive in their
brave ranks. He is pardoned. If I can trust him, can I
not trust you ? You, who have aided my sons in breaking
down this terrible rebellion ? God grant that my decision
may not be a wrong decision. The black man shall vote.
(NEGRO rises.) He is free, and we pray thee, God, to grant
thy blessing on a down-trodden and wronged race. (Takes NEGRO
ty hand, points to banner.) Look upon that nag ; emblem of
the institutions for which you have been fighting. There
are red lines of blood, and white lines of spirit truth. In
saying you may exercise the right of suffrage, I help you on
the white line. Walk uprightly, honor your country and your
God. (Music, as curtain falls.}
CURTAIN.
UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITION.
THOMAS CORWIN.
MR. PRESIDENT, the uneasy desire to augment our terri-
tory has depraved the moral sense and blighted the other-
wise keen sagacity of our people. Sad, very sad, are the
UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITION. 103
lessons which Timo has written for 113. Through and in
them all I see nothing but the inflexible execution of that
old law which ordains, as eternal, the cardinal rule, " Thou
shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, nor anything which is
his." Since I have lately heard so much about the (Jismem-
berment of Mexico, I have looked back to see how, in the
course of events, which so^ne call " Providence," it has fared
with other nations who engaged in this work of dismember-
ment.
I see that in the latter half of the eighteenth century,
three powerful nations, Russia, Austria and Prussia, united
in the dismemberment of Poland. They said, 'too, as you
say, "It is our destiny." They "wanted room." Doubtless
each of these thought, with his share of Poland, his power
was too strong ever to fear invasion, or even insult. One
had his California, another his New Mexico, and the third
his Vera Cruz.
Did they remain untouched and incapable of harm ?
Alas ! no far, very far from it. Betributive justice must
fulfil its destiny too. A very few years pass off, and we hear ,
of a new man, a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named " armed
soldier of Democracy," Napoleon. He ravages Austria,
covers her land with blood, drives the Northern Caesar from
his capital, and sleeps in his palace. Austria may now re-
member how her power trampled upon Poland. Did she not
pay dear, very dear for her California ?
But has Prussia no atonement to make ? You see this
same Napoleon, the blind instrument of Providence, at work
there. The thunders of his cannon at Jena proclaim the
work of retribution for Poland's wrongs ; and the suc-
cessors of the Great Frederick, the drill-sergeant of Europe,
are seen flying across the sandy plains that surround their
capital, right glad if they may escape captivity and death.
But how fares it with the Autocrat of Russia ? Is he
secure in his share of the spoils of Poland ? No. Suddenly
we see, sir, six hundred thousand armed men marching to
Moscow. Does his Vera Cruz protect him now ? Far from
104 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
it. Blood, slaughter, desolation, spread abroad over the
land ; and, finally, the conflagration of the old commercial
metropolis of Russia closes the retribution ; she must pay
for her share in the dismemberment of her impotent neigh-
bor.
Mr. President, a mind more prone to look for the judg-
ments of Heaven in the doings o men than mine cannot
fail, in all unjust acqusitions of territory, to see the Provi-
dence of God. "When Moscow burned, it seemed as if the
earth was lighted up, that the nations might behold the
scene. As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved and
rolled upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the stars,
and fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the God
of the nations was writing, in characters of flames, on the
front of His throne, that doom that shall fall upon the strong
nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak.
And what fortune awaits him, the appointed executor
of this work, when it was all done ? He, too, conceived the
notion that his destiny pointed onward to universal domin-
ion. France was too small, Europe he thought should bow
down before him. But as soon as this idea takes possession
of his soul, he too becomes powerless. His terminus must
recede too. Right there, while he witnessed the humilia-
tion, and, doubtless, meditated the subjugation of Russia,
He who holds the winds in His fist, gathered the snows of
the North, and blew them upon his six hundred thousand
men. They fled they froze they perished.
And now the mighty Napoleon, who had resolved on uni-
versal dominion, he too, is summoned to answer for the vio-
lation of that ancient law, " Thou shalt not covet anything
which is thy neighbor's." How is the mighty fallen ! He,
beneath whose proud footstep Europe trembled, he is now
an exile at Elba, and now, finally, a prisoner on the rock of
St. Helena and there on a barren island, in an unfrequent-
ed sea, in the crater of an extinguished volcano, there is the
death-bed of the mighty conqueror. All his annexations
have come to that I His last hour is now at hand ; and he,
DIMES AND DOLLARS. 105
the man of destiny, he who had rocked the world as with
the throes of an earthquake, is now powerless, still even as
the beggar, so he died.
On the wings of a tempest that raged with unwonted fury,
up to the throne of the only Power that controlled hii^vvhilo
he lived, went to the fiery soul of that wonderful warrior,
another witness to the existence of that eternal decree, that
they who do not rule in righteousness shall perish from the
earth. He has found " room " at last. And France, she
too has found "room." Her "eagles "now no longer scream
along the banks of the Danube, the Po, and the Borysthenes.
They have returned home to their old aerie, between the
Alps, the Rhine, and the Pyrenees.
So shall it be with yours. You may carry them to the
loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras ; they may wave, with inso-
lent triumph, in the halls of the Montezumas ; the armed
men of Mexico may quail before them; but the weakest
hand in Mexico, uplifted in prayer to the God of Justice,
may call down against you a Power in the presence of
which the iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned into
ashes !
DIMES AND DOLLAES.
HENRY MILLS.
" DIMES and dollars ! dollars and dimes ! "
Thus an old miser rang the chimes,
As he sat by the side of an open box.
With ironed angles and massive locks :
And he heaped the glittering coin on high,
And cried in delirious ecstacy
" Dimes and dollars ! dollars and dimes !
Ye are the ladders by which man climbs
Over his fellows. Musical chimes !
Dimes and dollars ! dollars and dimes ! "
A sound on the gong, and the miser rose,
And his laden coffer did quickly close,
106 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
And locked secure. " These are the times
For a man to look after his dollars and dimes.
A letter ! ha ! from my prodigal son.
The old tale poverty pshaw, begone !
Why did he marry when 1 forbade 1
* As he has sown so he must reap ;
But I my dollars secure will keep.
A sickly wife and starving times 1
He should have wed with dollars and dimes."
Thickly the hour of midnight fell ;
Doors and windows were bolted well.
" Ha ! " cried the miser, " not so bad :
A thousand guineas to-day I've made.
Money makes money ; these are the times
To double and treble the dollars and dimes.
Now to sleep, and to-morrow to plan ;
Rest is sweet to a wearied man."
And he fell to sleep with the midnight chimes,
Dreaming of glittering dollars and dimes.
The sun rose high, and its beaming ray
Into the miser s room found way.
It moved from the foot till it lit the head
Of the miser's low uncurtained bed ;
And it seemed to say to him, " Sluggard, awake j
Thou hast a thousand dollars to make.
Up man, up ! " How still was the place,
As the bright ray fell on the miser's face !
Ha ! the old miser at last is dead !
Dreaming of gold, his spirit fled,
And he left behind but an earthly clod,
Akin to the dross that he made his god.
What now avails the chinking chimes
Of dimes and dollars ! dollars and dimes !
Men of the times ! men of the times !
Content may not rest with dollars and dimes.
Use them well, and their use sublimes
The mineral dross of the dollars and dimes.
THE DEAD DRUMMER-BOY. 107
Use them ill, and a thousand crimes
Spring from a coffer of dollars and dimes.
Men of the times ! men of the times !
Let chanty dwell with your dollars and dimes.
THE DEAD DEUMMEE-BOY.
H'ARPERS' WEEKLY.
'MIDST tangled roots that lined the wild ravine,
Where the fierce fight raged hottest through the day,
And where the dead in scattered heaps were seen,
Amid the darkling forests' shade and sheen,
Speechless in death lie lay.
The setting sun, which glanced athwart the place
In slanting lines, like amber-tinted rain,
Fell sidewise on the drummer's upturned face,
Where Death had left his gory finger's trace
In one bright crimson stain.
The silken fringes of his once bright eye
Lay like a shadow on his cheek so fair ;
His lips were parted by a long-drawn sigh,
That with his soul had mounted to the sky
On some wild martial air.
No more his hand the fierce tattoo shall beat,
The shrill reveille", or the long-roll's call,
Or sound the charge, when in the smoke and heat
Of fiery onset foe with foe shall meet,
And gallant men shall fall.
Yet maybe in some happy home, that one
A mother reading from the list of dead,
Shall chance to view the name of her dear son,
And move her lips to say, " God's will be done ! "
And bow in grief her head.
108 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
But more than this what tongue shall tell his story 7
Perhaps his boyish longin.s were for fame 1
He lived, he died ; and so, memento mori
Enough if on the page of War and Glory
Some hand has writ his name.
HOME.
JAMES MONTGOMERY.
THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night ;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth ;
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ;
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth, supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend :
Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow path of life ;
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found 7
Art thou a man ? a patriot ? look around ;
HOME. 109
Oh, tliou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
On Greenland's rocks, o'er rude Kamschatka's plains,
In pale Siberia's desolate domains ;
Where the wild hunter takes his lonely way,
Tracks through tempestuous snows his savage prey,
The reindeer's spoil, the ermine's treasures shares,
And feasts his famine on the fat of bears :
Or wrestling with the might of raging seas,
Where round the pole the eternal billows freeze,
Plucks from their jaws the stricken whale, in vain
Plunging down headlong through the whirling main;
His wastes of ice are lovelier in his eye
Than all the flowery vales beneath the sky ;
And dearer far than Caesar's palace-dome,
His cavern shelter, and his cottage-home.
O'er China's garden-fields, and peopled floods ;
In California's pathless world of woods ;
Round Andes' heights, where winter, from his throne,
Looks down in scorn upon the summer gone ;
By the gay borders of Bermuda's isles,
Where spring with everlasting verdure smiles ;
On pure Madeira's vine-robed hills of health*
In Java's swamp of pestilence and wealth ;
Where Babel stood, where wolves and jackals drink ;
'Midst weeping willows, on Euphrates' brink ;
On Carmel's crest ; by Jordan's reverend stream,
Where Canaan s glories vanish like a dream ;
Where Greece, a spectre, haunts her heroes' graves,
And Rome's vast ruins darken Tiber's waves ;
Where broken-hearted Switzerland bewails
Her subject mountains, and dishonored vales ;
Where Albion's rocks exult amidst the sea,
Around the beauteous isle of liberty ;
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all tho world beside ;
110 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
BESPONSIBILITY OF AMEEICAN CITIZENS.
JOSEPH STOBY.
[The following extract is taken from an Oration delivered by Judge Story
Sept. 18, 1828, on the occasion of the commemoration of the first settlement of
Salem, Massachusetts.]
WE stand the latest, and, if we fail, probable the last,
experiment of self-government by the people. We have be-
gun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature.
We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been
checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions
have never been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the
old world. Such as we are, we have been from the begin-
ning simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-govern-
ment and self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between us and
any formidable foe.
Within our territory, stretching through many degrees of
latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many pro-
ducts, and many means of independence. The government
is mild. The press is free. Religion is free. Knowledge
reaches, or may reach, every home. What fairer prospect of
success could be presented ? What means more adequate to
accomplish the sublime end ? What more is necessary, than
for the people to preserve what they themselves have cre-
ated?
Can it be that America, under such circumstances can
betray herself ? that she is to be added to the catalogue of
republics the inscription upon whose ruins is, " They were,
but they are not '? " Forbid it, my countrymen ! forbid it,
Heaven !
I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors,
RESPONSIBILITY OF AMERICAN CITIZENS. Ill
by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all
you are and all you hope to be, resist every project of dis-
union, resist every encroachment upon your liberties, resist
every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your
public schools, or extinguish your system of public in-
struction.
I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in
woman the love of your offspring; teach them, as they
climb your knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of
liberty. Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal
vows, to be true to their country, and never to forget or for-
sake her.
I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you
are, whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too
short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression.
Death never comes too soon, if necessa.ry in defence of the
liberties of your country.
I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your
prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs
go down in sorrow to the grave with the recollection that
you have lived in vain ! May not your last sun sink in the
west upon a nation of slaves !
The time of our departure is at hand, to make way for
our children upon the theatre of life. May God speed them
and theirs ! May he who, at the distance of another cen-
tury, shall stand here to celebrate this day, still look round
upon a free, happy, and virtuous people ! May he have
reason to exult as we do ! May he, with all the enthusiasm
of truth, as well as of poetry, exclaim that here is still his
country.
" Zealous, yet modest ; innocent, though free ;
Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms ;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms."
112 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
THE SMACK IN SCHOOL.
W. P. PALMER.
A DISTRICT school, not far away
'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of threescore mingled girls and boys
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent ;
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book
When suddenly behind his back,
Rose, loud and clear, a rousing smack,
As 'twere a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss !
" What's that ? " the startled master cries ;
" That thir," a little imp replies,
" Wath William Willith, if you pleathe
I thaw him kith Thuthannah Peathe ! "
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered " Hither, Will! "
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The threat'ner faltered " I'm amazed
That you, my biggest pupil, should
Be guilty of an act so rude !
Before the whole set school to boot
What evil genius put you to't 7 "
"' Twas she, herself, sir," sobbed the lad,
" I didn't mean to be so bad
But when Susannah shook her curls,
And whispered I was 'fear'd of girls,
LEFT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 113
And dassn't kiss a baby's doll,
I couldn't stand it, sir, at all !
But up and kissed her on the spot.
I know boo hoo I ought to not,
But r somehow, from her looks boo hoo
I thought she kind o' wished me to 1 "
LEFT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.
SARAH T. BOLTON.
WHAT, was it a dream 1 am I all alone
In the dreary night and the drizzling rain 1
Hist ! ah, it was only the river's moan ;
They have left me behind, with the mangled slain.
Yes, now I remember it all too well !
We met, from the battling ranks apart ;
Together our weapons flashed and fell,
And mine was sheathed in his quivering heart.
In the cypress gloom, where the deed was done,
It was all too dark to see his face j
But I heard his death-groans, one by one,
And he holds me still in a cold embrace.
He spoke but once, and I could not hear
The words he said, for the cannon's roar ;
But my heart grew cold with a deadly fear,
God ! I had heard that voice before !
Had heard it before at our mother's knee,
When we lisped the words of our evening prayer !
My brother ! would I had died for thee,
This burden is more than my soul can bear !
I pressed my lips to his death-cold cheek,
And begged him to show mo, by word or sign,
That he knew and forgave me : he could not speak,
But he nestled his poor cold face to mine.
114 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
The blood flowed fast from ray wounded side,
And then for aivhile I forgot my pain,
And over the lakelet we seemed to glide
In our little boat, two boys again.
And then, in my dream, me stood alone
On a forest path where the shadows fell ;
And I heard again the tremulous tone,
And the tender words of his last farewell.
But that parting was years, long years ago,
He wandered away to a foreign land ;
And our dear old mother will never know
That he died to-night by his brother's hand.
The soldiers who buried the dead away,
Disturbed not the clasp of that last embrace,
But laid them to sleep till the Judgment-day,
Heart folded to heart, and face to face.
THE AMEBICAN FLAG.
JOSEPH RODMAN DKAKE.
WHEN Freedom, ?rom her mountain height
Unfurl'd her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there !
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And stripped its pure celestial white
"With streakings of the morning light.
Then, from his mansion in the snu,
She call'd her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land !
THE AMERICAN FLAG. 115
Majestic monarch of the cloud !
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the ternpest-trumpings loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,-^
Child of the Sun ! to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory !
Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high !
When speaks the signal-trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on,
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,
Then shall thy meteor glances glow.
And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ;
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round tlie bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
116 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home,
By angel hands to valor given,
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet,
AVhere breathes the foe bat falls before us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet.
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us !
OH! WHY SHOULD THE SPIEIT OF MOETAL
BE PEOUD ?
ANONYMOUS.
[The following poem was a particular favorite with Mr. Lincoln, and which he
was accustomed occasionally to repeat. Mr. F. B. Carpenter, the artist, writes
that while engaged in painting his picture at the White House, he was alone
one evening with the President in his room, when he said : " There is a poem
which has been a great favorite with me for years, which was first shown to
me when a young man by a friend, and which I afterwards saw and cut from
a newspaper and learned by heart. I would," he continued, " give a great deal
to know who wrote it, but have never been able to ascertain." He then re-
peated the poem, and on a subsequent occasion Mr. Carpenter wrote it down
from Mr. Lincoln's own lips. The poem was published more than thirty years
ago, was then stated to be of Jewish origin and composition, and we think
was credited to " Songs of Israel."]
OH, why should the spirit of mortal be proud 1
Like a swift, fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willows shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid ;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.
OH ! WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT, ETC. 117
The infant a mother attended and loved ,
The mother that infant's affection who proved ;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.
The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure her triumphs are by ;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne ;
The brow cf the priest that the mitre hath worn ;
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave.
The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap ;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep ;
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the multitude goes, like the flowers or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed ;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same our fathers have been ;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen
We drink the same stream and view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think ;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink,
To the life we are clinging they also would cling ;
But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.
118 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
They loved, but the story we cannot unfold ;
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold ;
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come ;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
They died, aye ! they died : and we things that are now,
"Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
Who make in their dwelling a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
Yea ! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain ;
And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath ;
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud
Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud I
PAEBHASIUS.
PARRHASIUS stood, gazing forgetfully
Upon the canvas. There Prometheus lay,
Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus,
The vulture at his vitals, and the links
Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh ;
And. as the painter's mind felt through the dim
Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth
With its far-reaching fancy, and with form
And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye
Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl
Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip,
Were like the winged god's breathing from his flights.
PARBHASIUS. 119
" Bring me the captive now I
My hand feels skillful, and the shadows lift
From my waked spirit airily and swift :
And I could paint the bow
Upon the bended heavens around me play
Colors of such divinity to-day.
Ha ! bind him on his back I
Look ! as Prometheus in my picture here-
Quick or he faints ! stand with the cordial
Now bend him to the rack!
Press down the poisoned links into his flesh !
And tear agape that healing wound afresh !
So let him writhe ! How long
Will he live thus 1 Quick, my good pencil now *
What a fine agony works upon his brow I
Ha ! gray-haired, and so strong !
How fearfully he stifles that short moan i
Gods 1 could I but paint a dying groan J
Pity thee i so I .do <
I pity the dumb victim at the altar ^
But does the robed priest for his pity falter 1
I'd rack thee, though I knew
A thousand lives were perishing in thine
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine J
Ah ! there's a deathless name !-*
A spirit that the smothering vaults shall spurn,
And. like a steadfast planet, mount and burn-
And though its crown of flame
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone*^
By all the fiery stars ! I'd bind it on !
"Ay ! though it bid rue rifle
My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst
120 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first
Though it should bid me stifle
The yearnings in my heart for my sweet child,
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild
" All I would do it ail-
Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot
Thrust foully in the earth to be forgot.
Oh heavens but I appall
Your heart, old man ! forgive ha ! on your lives
Let him not faint ! rack him till he revives !
" Vain vain give o r er. His eye
Glazes apace. He does not feel you now
Stand back ! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow!
Gods ! if he do not die,
But for one moment one till I eclipse
Conception with the scorn of those calm lips !
" Shivering ! Hark ! he mutters
Brokenly now that was a difficult breath
Another 1 Wilt thou never come, oh, Death !
Look ! how his temple flutters !
Is his heart still 1 Aha ! lift up his head !
He shudders gasps Jove help him so he's dead/'
How like a mountain devil in the heart
Rules the inreined ambition ! Let it once
But play the monarch, and its haughty brow
Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought
And unthrones peace forever. Putting on
The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns
The heart to ashes, and with not a spring
Left in the desert for the spirit's lip,
We look upon our splendor and forget
The thirst of which we perish !
THE VAGABONDS. 121
THE VAGABONDS.
J. T. TKOWBRIDGE.
WE are two travellers, Roger and I.
Roger's my dog : come here, you scamp !
Jump for the gentlemen, mind your eye !
Over the table, look out for the lamp !
The rogue is growing a little old ;
Five years we've tramped through wind and weather,
And slept out-doors when nights were cold,
And ate and drank and starved together.
We've learned what comfort is, I tell you !
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,
A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow !
The paw he holds up there's been frozen),
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle,
(This out-door business is bad for the strings),
Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle,
And Roger and I set up for kings !
No, thank ye, sir, I never drink ;
Roger and I are exceedingly moral
Aren't we, Roger 1 see him wink !
Well, something hot, then, we won't quarrel.
He's thirsty, too, see him nod his head 1
What a pity, sir, that dogs can't taik !
He understands every word that's said,
And he knows good milk from water- and-chalk.
The truth is, sir, now I reflect,
I've been so sadly given to grog,
I wonder I've not lost the respect
(Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog.
But he sticks by, through thick and thin ;
And this old coat, with its empty pockets,
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,
He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.
122 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
There isn't another creature living
Would do it, and prove, through every disaster,
So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,
To such a miserable thankless master !
No, sir ! see him wag his tail and grin !
By George ! it makes my old eyes water !
That is, there's something in this gin
That chokes a fellow. But no matter !
We'll have some music, if your're willing,
And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough is, sir !)
Shall march a little. Start, you villain !
Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your officer !
Put up that paw ! Dress ! Take your rifle !
(Some dogs have arms, you see !) Now hold your
Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle,
To aid a poor old patriot soldier !
March ! Halt ! Now show how the rebel shakes
When he stands up to hear his sentence.
Now tell us how many drams it takes
To honor a jolly new acquaintance.
Five yelps. that's five ; he's mighty knowing !
The night's before us, fill the glasses !
Quick, sir ! I m ill, my brain is going !
Some brandy, thank you, there ! it passes !
Why not reform 1 That's easily said ;
But I've gone through such wretched treatment,
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,
And scarce remembering what meat meant,
That my poor stomach's past reform ;
And there are times when, mad with thinking,
I'd sell out heaven for something warm
To prop a horrible inward sinking.
Is there a way to forget to think 1
At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends,
THE VAGABONDS. 123
A dear girl's love, but I took to drink ;
The same old story ; you know how it ends.
If you could have seen these classic features.
You needn't laugh, sir ; they were not then
Such a burning libel on God's creatures :
I was one of your handsome men !
If you had seen her, so fair and young,
Whose head was happy on this breast !
If you could have heard the songs I sung
When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed
That ever I, sir, should be straying
From door to door, with fiddle arid dog,
Ragged and penniless, and playing
To you to-night for a glass of grog !
She's married since } a parson's wife :
'Twas better for her that we should part,
Better the soberest, prosiest life
Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
I have seen her 1 Once : I was weak and spent
On the dusty road, a carriage stopped :
But little she dreamed, as on she went,
Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped !
You've set me talking, sir ; I'm sorry ;
It makes me wild to think of the change !
What do you care for a beggar's story ?
Is it amusing 7 you find it strange ?
I had a mother so proud of me !
'Twas well she died before Do you know
If the happy spirits in heaven can see
The ruin and wretchedness here below 1
Another glass, and strong, to deaden
This pain ; then Roger and I will start.
I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden,
Aching thing, in place of a heart 1
He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could,
No doubt, remembering things that were,
124 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food,
And himself a sober, respectable cur.
I'm better now ; that glass was warming.
You rascal ! limber your lazy feet !
We must be fiddling and performing
For supper and bed, or starve in the street.
Not a very gay life to lead, you think ?
But soon we shall go where lodgings are free,
And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink ;-
The sooner, the better for Eager and me !
A BEIDAL WINE-CUP.
ANONYMOUS.
" PLEDGE with, wine pledge with wine," cried the young
and thoughtless Harry "Wood. " Pledge with wine," ran
through the brilliant crowd.
The beautiful bride grew pale the decisive hour had
come, she pressed her white hands together, and the leaves
of her bridal wreath trembled on her pure brow ; her breath
came quicker, her heart beat wilder.
" Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this once," said
the Judge, in a low tone, going towards his daughter ; " the
company expect it, do not so seriously infringe upon the
rules of etiquette ; in your own house act as you please ; but
in mine, for this once please me."
Every eye was turned towards the bridal pair. Marion's
principles were well known. Henry had been a convivialist,
f but of late his friends noticed the change in his manners,
the difference in his habits and to-night they watched him
to see, as they sneeringly said, if he was tied down to a
woman's opinion so soon.
Pouring a brimming beaker, they held it with tempting
smiles toward Marion. She was very pale, though more
composed, and her hand shook not, as smiling back, she
A BRIDAL WINE-CUP. 125
gratefully accepted the crystal tempter, and raised it to
her lips. But scarcely had she done so, when every hand
was arrested by her piercing exclamation of " Oh ! how ter-
rible ! " " What is it ? " cried one and all, thronging together,
for she had slowly carried the glass at arm's length, and was
fixedly regarding it as though it were some hideous object.
" Wait," she answered, while an inspired light shone from
her dark eyes, " wait and I will tell you. I see," she added,
slowly, pointing one jewelled finger at the sparkling ruby
liquid, " a sight that beggars all description ; and yet listen ;
I will paint it for you if I can : It is a lonely spot ; tall moun-
tains, crowned with verdure, rise in awful sublimity around ;
a river runs through, and bright flowers grow to the water's
edge. There is a thick warm mist that the sun seeks vainly
to pierce ; trees, lofty .and beautiful, wave to the airy motion
of the birds ; but there, a group of Indians gather ; they flit
to and fro with something like sorrow upon their dark brow ;
and in their midst lies a manly form, but his cheek, how
deathly ; his eye wild with the fitful fire of fever. One
friend stands beside him, nay, I should say kneels, for he is
pillowing that poor head upon his breast.
" Genius in ruins. Oh ! the high, holy looking brow !
Why should death mark it, and he so young ? Look how he
throws the damp curls ! see him clasp his hands ! hear his
thrilling shrieks for life ! mark how he clutches at the form
of his companion, imploring to be saved. Oh ! hear him call
piteousiy his father's name ; see him twine his fingers to-
gether as he shrieks for his sister his only sister the twin
of his soul weeping for him in his distant native land.
" See ! " she exclaimed, while the bridal party shrank back,
the untasted wine trembling in their faltering grasp, and the
Judge fell, oyerpowered, upon his seat ; " see ! his arms are
lifted to heaven ; he prays, how wildly, for mercy ! hot fever
rushes through his veins. The friend beside him is weeping ;
awe-stricken, the dark men move silently, and leave the
living and dying together."
There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken only by
126 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
what seemed a smothered sob, from some manly bosom. The
bride stood yet upright, with quivering lip, and tears steal-
ing to the outward edge of her lashes. Her beautiful arm
had lost its tension, and the glass, with its little troubled red
waves, came slowly towards the range of her vision. She
spoke again ; every lip was mute. Her voice was low, faint,
yet awfully distinct: she still fixed her sorrowful glance
upon the wine-cup.
" It is evening now ; the great white moon is coming up,
and her beams lay gently on his forehead. He moves not ;
his eyes are set in their sockets ; dim are their piercing glances ;
in vain his friend whispers the name of father and sister,
death is there. Death ! and no soft hand, no gentle voice
to bless and sooth him. His head sinks back ! one convul-
sive shudder ! he is dead ! "
A groan ran through the assembly, so vivid was her des-
cription, so unearthly her look, so inspired her manner, that
what she described seemed actually to have taken place
then and there. They noticed also, that the bridegroom hid
his face in his hands and was weeping.
" Dead ! " she repeated again, her lips quivering faster and
faster, and her voice more and more broken ; " and there they
scoop him a grave ; and, there without a shroud, they lay
him down in the damp reeking earth. The only son of a
proud father, the only idolized brother of a fond sister.
And he sleeps to-day in that distant country, with no stone
to mark the spot. There he lies my father's son my own
twin brother ! a victim to this deadly poison. Father," she
exclaimed, turning suddenly, while the tears rained down
her beautiful cheeks, "father, shall I drink it now? "
The form of the old Judge was convulsed with agony. He
raised his head, but in a smothered voice he faltered " No,
no, my child, in God's name, no."
She lifted the glittering goblet, and letting it suddenly
fall to the floor it was dashed into a thousand pieces. Many
a tearful eye watched her movements, and instantaneously
every wine-glass was transferred to the marble table on
BLANCHE OF DEVAN'S LAST WORDS. 127
which it had been prepared. Then, as she looked at the
fragments of crystal, she turned to the company, saying :
<< Let no friend, hereafter, who loves me tempt me to peril
my soul for wine. Not firmer the everlasting hills than my
resolve, God helping me, never to touch or taste that terri-
ble poison. And he to whom I have given my hand ; who
watched over my brothers dying form in that last solemn
hour, and buried the dear wanderer there by the river, in
that land of gold, will, I trust, sustain mo in that resolve.
"Will you not, my husband ? "
His glistening eyes, his sad sweet smile was her answer.
The Judge left the room, and when an hour later he re-
turned, and with a more subdued manner took part in the
entertainment of the bridal guests, no one could fail to read
that he, too, had determined to dash the enemy at once and
forever from his princely rooms.
Those who were present at that wedding, can never forget
the impression so solemnly made. Many from that hoiL!
forswore the social glass.
BLANCHE OF DEVAN'S LAST WOEDS.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
" STRANGER, it is in vain ! " she cried,
<: This hour of death has given me more
Of Reason's power, than years before ;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away,
A helpless, injured wretch I die,
And something tells me in thine eye,'
That thou wert my avenger born.
Seest thou this tress 1 ! still I've worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy and despair !
It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.
128 KECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
I will not tell thee when 'twas shed,
Nor from what guiltless victim's head
My brain would turn ! but it shall wave
Like plumage on thy hemlet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.
I waver still ! God ! more bright
Let Reason beam her parting light !
! by thy knighthood's honored sign,
And by thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boast's him chief of Alpine's clan,
With tartans broad, and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong !
They watch for thee by pass and fell
Avoid the path God ! farewell."
WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIFFLES.
0, REVEREND sir, I do declare
It drives me most to frenzy,
To think of you a lying there
Down sick with influenza.
A body'd thought, it was enough,
To mourn your wive's departer,
Without sich trouble as this ere
To come a follerin' arter.
But sickness and affliction
Are the trials sent by a wise creation,
And always ought to be underwent
By fortitude and resignation.
0, I could to your bed-side fly
And wipe your weeping eyes j
A PSALM OF THE UNION. 129
And do my best to cure you up
If 'twouldn't create surprise.
It's a world of trouble we tarry in,
But, Elder, don't despair ;
That 3 r ou may soon be movin' again.
Is constantly rny prayer.
Both sick and well, you may depend
You'll never be forgot
By your faithful and affectionate friend,
PRICILLA POOL BEDOTT.
A PSALM OF THE UNION.
HARPEKS' MONTHLY, Deoember, 1861.
GOD of the Free ! upon thy breath
Our flag is for the Right unrolled ;
Still broad and brave as when its stars
First crowned the hallowed time of old ;
For Honor still its folds shall fly,
For Duty still their glories burn,
Where Truth, Religion, Freedom guard
The patriot's sword and martyr's urn.
Then shout beside thine oak, North !
South ! wave answer with thy palm j
And in our Union's heritage
Together lift the Nation's psalm !
How glorious is our mission here !
Heirs of a virgin world are we ;
The chartered lords whose lightnings tame
The rocky mount and roaring sea :
We march, and Nature's giants own
The fetters of our mighty cars ;
We look, and lo ! a continent
Is crouched beneath the Stripes and Stars !
Then shout beside thino oak, North !
South ! wave answer with thy palm ;
130 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
And in our Union's heritage
Together lift the Nation's psalm;
No tyrant's impious step is ours ;
No lust of power on nations rolled :
Our Flag for friends a starry sky,
For foes a tempest every fold !
Oh ! thus we'll keep our nation's life.
Nor fear the bolt by despots hurled :
The blood of all the world is here,
And they who strike us, strike the world.
Then shout beside thine oak, North !
South ! wave answer with thy palm :
And in our Union's heritage
Together lift the Nation's psalm !
God of the Free ! our Nation bless
In its strong manhood as its birth ;
And make its life a Star of Hope
For all the struggling of the Earth :
Thou gav'st the glorious Past to us ;
Oh ! let our Present burn as bright,
And o'er the mighty Future cast
Truth's, Honor's, Freedom's holy light !
Then shout beside thine oak, North !
South ! wave answer with thy palm ;
And in our Union's heritage
Together lift the Nation's psalm !
CHARGE OF A DUTCH MAGISTRATE.
DE man he killed vasn't killed at all, as vas broved ; lie is
in ter chail, at Morristown, for sheep stealing. Put dat ish
no matter ; te law says vare ter is a doubt you give him to
der brisoner ; put here ish no doubt, so, you see, ter brisoner
ish guilty. I dinks, derefore, Mr. Foreman, he petter pe
hung next Fourth of July,
STARS IN MY COUNTRY'S SKY. 131
STAES IN MY COUNTEY'S SKY.
L. II. 8
ABB ye all there 1 Are ye all there,
Stars of my country's sky 1
Are ye all there 1 Are ye all there ?
In your shining homes on high 1
" Count us ! count us," was their answer,
As they dazzled on my view,
In glorious perihelion,
Amid their field of blue.
I cannot count you rightly ;
There's a cloud with sable rim ;
I cannot make your numbers out,
For my eyes with tears are dim.
Oh ! bright and blessed angel,
On white wing floating by,
Help me to count, and not to miss
One star in my country's sky !
Then the angel touched mine eyelids,
And touched the frowning cloud ;
And its sable rim departed,
And it fled with murky shroud.
There was no missing Pleiad,
'Mid all that sister race ;
The Southern Cross gleamed radiant forth,
And the Pole- Star kept its place.
Then I knew it was the angel
Who woke the hymning strain
That our Redeemer's birth
Pealed out o'er Bethlehem's plain ;
And still its heavenly key-tone
My listening country held.
For all her constellated stars
The diapason swelled.
132 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
BINGEN ON THE EHINE.
MRS. CAROLINE NOBTON.
A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's
tears ;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away,
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say :
The dying soldier faltered, and he took that comrade's hand,
And he said. " I never more shall see my own, my native land :
Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine,
For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine.
" Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd
around,
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the seiting sun ;
And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ;
And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline,
And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
" Tell my mother, that her other son shall comfort her old age ;
For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
For my father was a soldier, and even as a child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ;
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
I let them take whatever they would. but kept my father's sword ;
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine,
On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine.
" Tell ray sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head.
When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant
tread.
BINGEN ON THE RHINE. 133
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die ;
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name,
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and
mine),
For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine.
" There's another not a sister ; in the happy days gone by ;
You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye ;
Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,
0, friend ! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest
mourning !
Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen,
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),
I dreamed I stood with her] and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
" I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk,
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk !
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine.
But we'll meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine."
*
His trembling voice grew faint arid hoarse, his grasp was childish
weak,
His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak ;
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled,
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead !
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ;
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,
As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
134 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
THE EELIGIOUS CHAEACTEE OF PEESIDENT
LINCOLN.
[The following is taken from the funeral address delivered on the occasion of
the obsequies of President Lincoln, April 19th, 1866, by the Rev. P. D. Gur-
ley, D. D., who was pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Washington, which
Mr. Lincoln attended.]
PROBABLY no man since the days of Washington was ever
so deeply enshrined in the hearts of the American people as
Abraham Lincoln. Nor was it a mistaken confidence and
love. He deserved it all. He deserved it by his character,
by the whole tenor, tone, and spirit of his life. He was sim-
ple, sincere, plain, honest, truthful, just, benevolent and
kind. His perceptions were quick and clear, his judgments
calm and accurate, purposes good and pure beyond all ques-
tion. Always and everywhere he aimed both to be right
and to do right. His integrity was all-pr evading, all-con-
trolling, and incorruptible. As the chief magistrate of a
great and inperilled people, he rose to the dignity and
inomentousness of the occasion. He saw his duty, and he
determined to do his whole duty, seeking the guidance and
leaning upon the arm of Him of whom it is written, " He
giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might
he increaseth strength."
I speak what I know when I affirm that His guidance was
the prop on which he humbly and habitually leaned. It was
the best hope he had for himself and his country. When he
was leaving his home in Illinois, and coming to this city to
take his seat in the executive chair of a disturbed and
troubled nation, he said to the old and tried friends who
gathered tearfully around him and bade him farewell, " I
leave you with this request, pray for me." They did pray
for him, and millions of others prayed for him. Nor did they
pray in vain. Their prayers were heard. The answer shines
forth with a heavenly radiance in the whole course and tenor
of his administration, from its commencement to its close.
RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF LINCOLN. 135
God raised him up for a great and glorious mission. He
furnished him for his work and aided him in its accomplish-
ment. Ho gave him strength of mind, honesty of heart, and
purity and pertinacity of purpose. In addition to these He
gave him also a calm and abiding confidence in an over-
ruling Providence, and in the ultimate triumph of truth and
righteousness through the power and blessing of God. This
confidence strengthened him in his hours of anxiety and
toil, and inspired him with a calm and cheerful hope when
others were despondent.
Never shall I forget the emphasis and the deep emotion
with which, in this very room he said to a company of
clergymen, who had called to pay him their respects, in the
darkest hour of our civil conflict, " Gentlemen, my hope of
success in this great and terrible struggle rests on that immu-
table foundation, the justice and goodness of God. Even
now, when the events seem most threatening, and the pros-
pects dark, I still hope that in some way which man cannot
see, all will be well in the end, and that as our cause is j ust,
God is on our side.'*
Such was his sublime and holy faith. It was an anchor
to his soul both sure and steadfast. It made him firm and
strong. It emboldened him in the rugged and perilous
pathway of duty. It made him valiant for the right, for the
cause of God and humanity. It held him in steady, patient,
and unswerving adherence to a policy which he thought,
and which we all now think, both God and humanity re-
quired him to adopt.
We admired his child-like simplicity, his freedom from
guile and deceit, his staunch and sterling integrity, his kind
and forgiving temper, and his persistent, self-sacrificing de-
votion to all the duties of his eminent position. We admired
his readiness to hear and consider the cause of the poor*
the humble, the suffering, and the oppressed, and his readi-
ness to spend and be spent for the attainment of that great
triumph, the blessed fruits of which shall be as wide spread-
ing as the earth, and as enduring as the Bun.
136 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES. '
All these things commanded the admiration of the world,
and stamped upon his life and character the unmistakable
impress of true greatness. More sublime than all these,
more holy and beautiful, was his abiding confidence in God,
and in the final triumph of truth and righteousness through
him and for his sake. The friends of liberty and the Union
will repair to his consecrated grave, through ages yet to
come, to pronounce the memory of its occupant blessed, and
to gather from his ashes and the rehearsal of his virtues fresh
incentives to patriotism, and there renew their vows of fidelity
to their country and their God.
THE EAYEN.
E1>GAB A. POE.
ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious yolume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at ray chamber door.
" Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, " tapping at my chamber door.
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow ; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore
Nameless here forever more.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain,
Thrill'd me fil?d me with fantastic terrors never felt before ;
So that now, to sti'l the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door ;
That it is ; and nothing more."
THE RAVEN. 137
Presently my soul grew stronger . hesitating then no longer,
" Sir," said I, " or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you " here I open'd wide the door ;
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there' spoken was the whisper'd word " Lenore ! "
This I whisper'd, and an echo murmurd back the word " Lenore ! "
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.
" Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my window-lattice ;
Let me see then what there at is, and this mystery explore,
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore ;
'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open then I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepp'd a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he ; not an instant stopp'd or stay'd
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door,
Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
" Though thy crest be shorne and shaven, thou/' I said, " art sure
no craven ;
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore,
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore 1 "
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! "
Much I marvel'd this ungainly fowl to here discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning little relevancy bore;
138 RECITATIONS AXD DIALOGUES.
For we cnnnot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
"With such name as " Nevermore J :>
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one wo;d, as if his soul in that one word he dii outpour.
Nothing further then he utter'd not a feather then he flutter'd
Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, '' Other friends have flown
before
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, " Nevermo.e ! "
Startled at the stillness, broken by reply so aptly spoken,
" Doubtless," said I, " what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy maste , whom unmerciful (.isaster
Follow'd fast an 1 fo lowed faster, till his song one burden bore,
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,
Of " Nevermore nevermore ! ''
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd seat in front of bird, and bust, and
door,
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking " Nevermore ! "
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er.
But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press ah ! nevermore !
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen
censer,
Swung by seraphim, whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
THE RAVEN. 139
" Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent thee by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore !
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore ! "
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! "
" Prophet ! " said I, " thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil !
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest toss'd thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted
On this home by horror haunted tell me truly, I implore
Is there is there balm in Gilead ? tell me tell me, I implore ! "
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! "
* Prophet! " said I, "thing of evil ! prophet still, if bird or devil !
By that heaven that bends above us by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aideun,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore ;
Clasp a fair and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore ! "
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! "
' Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked,
upstarting
" Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore !
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken !
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door !
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door ! "
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! "
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door ;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor ;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted nevermore !
140 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
THE LOYAL LEGION.
COLONEL CHAS. G. HALPIXE (MILES O'BIELLT).
[This poem was read at the festival in honor of Washington's Birthday, given
by the Military Order of the Loyal Legion in Philadelphia, Feb. 22d, 1866.]
FOREVER past the days of gloom,
The long, sad days of doubt arid fear,
When woman, by her idle loom,
Heard the dread battle's nearing boom
With clasped hands and straining ear ;
While each new hour the past pursues
With further threat of loss and pain,
Till the sick senses would refuse
To longer drink the bloody news
That told of sons and brothers slain.
The days of calm at length are won,
And, sitting thus, with folded hands,
We talk of great deeds greatly done,
While all the future seems to run
A silvery tide o'er golden sands.
With pomp the votive sword and shield
The saviors of the land return ;
And while new shrines to Peace w r e build,
On our great banner's azure field
Yet larger constellations burn !
Who bore the flag who won the day 7
The young proud manhood of the land,
Called from the forge and plow away,
They seized the weapons of the fray
With eager but untutored hand ;
They swarmed o'er all the roads that led
To where the peril hottest burned
By night, by day, their hurrying tread
Still southward to the struggle sped,
Nor ever from their purpose turned.
THE LOYAL LEGION. 141
Why tell how long the contest hung,
Now crowned with hope and now depressed,
And how the varying balance swung,
Until, like gold in furnace flung,
The truth grew stronger for the test 1
'Twas our own blood we had to meet ;
'Twas with full peers our swords were crossed
Till in the march, assault, retreat,
And in the school of stern defeat
We learned success at bloody cost.
Oh, comrades of the camp and deck !
All that is left by pitying Fate
Of those who bore through fire and wreck,
With sinewy arm and stubborn neck
His flag whose birth we celebrate !
Oh, men, whose names, forever bright
On history's golden tablets graved
By land, by sea who waged the fight,
What guerdon will you ask to-night
For service done, for perils braved 1
The charging lines no more we see,
No more we hear the din of strife ;
Nor under every greenwood tree,
Stretched in their life's great agony.
Are those who wait the surgeon's knife ;
No more the dreaded stretchers drip,
The jolting ambulances groan ;
No more, while all the senses slip,
We hear from the soon silent lip
The prayer for death as balm alone !
And ye who, on the sea's blue breast,
And down the rivers of the land,
With clouds of thunder as a crest,
Where still your conquering prows were pressed
War's lightnings wielded in vour hand !
142 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Ye, too, released, no longer feel
The threat of battle, storm and rock
Torpedoes grating on the keel.
While the strained sides with broadsides reel,
And turrets feel the dinting shock.
Joint saviors of the land ! To-day
What guerdon ask you of the land ?
No boon too great for you to pray
What can it give that could repay
The men we miss from our worn band 7
The men who lie in trench and swamp,
The dead who rock beneath the wave
The brother-souls of inarch and camp,
Bright spirits each a shining lamp,
Teaching our children to be brave !
And thou Great Shade ! in whom was nursed
The germ and grandeur of our land
In peace, in war, in reverence first,
Who taught our infancy to burst
The tightening yoke of Britain's hand !
Thou, too, from thy celestial height
Will join the prayer we make to-day
" Homes for the crippled in the fight,
And, what of life is left, made bright
By all that gratitude can pay."
Teach these who loll in gilded seats,
With nodding plume and jewelled gown,
Boasting a pedigee that dates
Back to the men who swayed the fates
When thou wert battling Britain's crown,
That ere the world a century swims
Th 1 ough time this poor, blue-coated host,
With brevet-rank of shattered limbs,
Will swell the fame in choral hymns
And be of pride tlv p ondpst bonst !
THE LOYAL LEGION. 143
Homes for the heroes we implode,
The brave who limbs and vigor gave,
That North and South, from shore to shore
One free, rich, boundless country o'er
The flag of Washington might wave ;
The flag that first the day recall-
Long years ago, one summer morn,
Flashed up o'er Independence Hall,
A meteor-messenger to all
That a new Nation here was born !
Oh, wives and daughters of the land !
To every gentler impuls > true,
To you we raise the invoking hand,
Take pity on our stricken band,
These demi-gods disguis d in blue !
More sweet than coo of pairing birds
Your voice when urging gentle deeds,
And power and beauty clothe her words
A west wind through the heart's thrilled chords
When woman's voice, for pity pleads.
To you I leave the soldier's doom,
Your glistening eyes assure me right ;
Oh, think through many a night of gloom,
When round you all was light and bloom,
And he preparing for the light
The soldier bade his fancy roam
Far from the foe's battalions proud
From camps, and hot steeds champing foam,
And fondly on your breast at home
The forehead of his spirit bowed !
Oh, by the legions of the dead,
Whose ears even yet our love may reach
Whose souls, in fight or prison fled,
Now swarm in column overhead,
Winging with fire my faltering speech ;
144 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
From stricken fields and ocean caves
I hear their voice and cry instead
" Gazing upon our myriad graves,
Be generous to the crippled braves
Who were the comrades of the dead ! "
Our cause was holy to the height
Of holiest cause to manhood given ;
For Peace and Liberty to smite,
And while the warm blood bounded bright.
For these to die, if called by Heaven !
The dead are cared for in the clay
The grinning skull no laurel seeks ;
But for the wounded of the fray
It is through my weak lips to-day
The ORDER OF THE LEGION speaks !
AGNES AND THE YEAES.
CELTA M. BURR.
<* MAIDEN Agnes," said the Year in going,
" What the message I shall bear from thee
To the* angels, who with love past knowing
Fed the life-lamp of thy infancy 7
When I reach them they will murmur low,
1 What of our Agnes doth thy record show 1 ' "
" Tell them, tell them that beside the sea
I wait a passage to the Land of Morn ;
For Hope has said, that o'er the waves to me
A goodly vessel by the winds is borne ;
To waft me proudly to that sunny land
Where all the castles of my dreaming stand.
" Day after day I watch the ships go by,
And strain my eyes across the restless deep,
Where, dimly pictured 'gainst the summer sky,
The Hills of Morning in their beauty sleep.
AGNES AND THE YEARS. 145
But look ! even now across the shining sea
The ship of promise bearing down for me."
" Woman Agnes, on the wreck-strewn shore,
When the angels of thy infancy
Ask if homeward turn thy steps once more,
What, I pray thee, shall my answer be 1
1 Tell us, tell us,' they will say, ' 0, Year,
Draws the loved one unto us more near 1 ' "
" Leave me, leave me : all is lost is lost !
My goodly ship is crumbled in the deep ;
My trusted helmsman in the breakers tossed ;
All's wrecked, ail's wasted, e'en the power to weep.
The mocking waves toss scornfully ashore
The ruined treasures that are mine no more.
" Leave me alone, to pore upon the waves,
Whitened with upturned faces of the dead ;
Earth for such corpses has, alas ! no graves ;
No holy priest has requiescat saii.
There's nothing left me but the bitter sea ;
God and his angels have forgotten me.' 7
" Christian Agnes, in the firelight dreaming,
What the message I shall bear from thee
To the angels, whose soft eyes are beaming
From the portal where they watch for me 7
1 Is she coming 1 ' they will say ; f 0, Year,
Draw her footsteps to the Homeland near ? ' "
" This the message that I sit no more
With eyes bent idly on the Hills of Morn,
That in the tempest, on the wreck-strewn shore,
A holier purpose to my soul was born.
Give leave to labor, was the prayer I said,
Leaving the dead past to inter its dead.
" And it was granted. By my hearth to-night,
Tell the beloved ones, I sit alone,
146 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
But not unhappy ; for the morning light
Will show my pathway with its uses strewn.
Happy in labor, say to them, 0, Year,
I wait the Sabbath, which I trust draws near."
CATILINE'S DEFIANCE.
CKOLT.
BANISHED from Rome ! What's banished but set free
From daily contact of the things I loathe ?
" Tried and convicted traitor ! " Who says this 7
Who'll prove it at his peril, on my head 1
Banished ? I thank you for't ! It breaks my chains !
I held some slack allegiance till this hour,
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords !
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs.
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities !
But here I stand and scoff you ! here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face !
Your consul's merciful. For this, all thanks !
He dates not touch a hair of Catiline !
******
"Traitor ! " I go, but I return ! This trial !
Here I devote your senate ! I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,
And make the infant's sinews strong as steel,
This day's the birth of sorrow ! This hour's work
Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my lords !
For there henceforth shall sit for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! all shames and crimes ;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones,
Till Anarchy come down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!
OUR FOLKS. 147
CUE FOLKS.
NOTE. The following beautiful a:id touching- lines were taken from the
* knapsack of a Union soldier, who was found dead, upon the battle-Held of
Hatcher's Bun, Ya., in Nov., 1864. The original manuscript, torn and defaced,
was presented to Major BARTON by Colonel EDWARD HILL, of the Sixteenth
Michigan Infantry. The author is unknown.
Hi ! Harry ! Hallie ! Halt, and tell
A soldier just a thing or two ;
You've had a furlough ! been to see
How all the folks in Jersey do ;
It's a year agone since I was there,
I, and a bullet from Fair Oaks.
Since you've been home, old comrade, true,
Say, did you see any of " our folks 1 "
You did ? Shake hands ! Oh, ain't I glad !
For if I do look grim and rough,
I've got some feeling. People think
A soldier's heart is mighty tough !
But, Harry, when the bullets fly,
(And hot saltpetre flames and smokes !
And whole battalions lie a-field !
One's apt to think about his folks.
And so you saw them ! When and where 7
The old man ! Is he lively yet ?
And mother does she fade at all,
Or does she seem to pine and fret for me ?
And little " sis," has she grown tall 1
And then, you know, her friend, that
Annie Ross How this pipe chokes :
Come, Hal, and tell me, like a man,
All the news about our folks.
You saw them at the church, you say ; .
It's likely ; for they're always there
On Sunday. What! No! A funeral!
Who 1 Why, Harry, how you halt and stare !
And all were well, and all were out 1
Come, surely, this can't be a hoax !
148 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Why don't you tell me, like a man,
What is the matter with our folks 1 "
*****
" I said all well, old comrade dear,
I say all well ! for He knows best,
Who takes His young lambs in His arms
Before the sun sinks in the West.
The soldier's stroke deals left and right,
But flowers fall as well as oaks
And so, fair Annie blooms no more :
And that's the matter with ' your folks.'
Here's this long curl, 'twas sent to you,
And this fair blossom, from her breast,
And here your sister Bessie wrote
This letter telling all the rest.
Bear up, old friend/' nobody speaks !
Only the dull camp raven croaks
And soldiers whisper, "boys be still!
There's some bad news from Granger's folks ! '
He turned his back upon his grief
And sadly strove to hide the tears
Kind nature sends to woe's relief.
Then answered, "Ah, well! Hal, I'll try;
But in my throat there's something chokes
Because, you see, I'd thought so long
To count her in among our folks.
All may be well ; but yet,
I can't help thinking, too,
I might have kept this trouble off
By being gentle, kind and true !
But may be not. She's safe up there ;
And when His hand deals other strokes
She'll stand at Heaven's gate, I know,
To Wait and welcome " our folks."
THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW 149
THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW.
JAMES WATSON.
0, THE snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below;
Over the housetop, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet,
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skimming along,
Beautiful snow ! it can do no wrong,
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in a frolieksome freak ;
Beautiful snow from the heavens above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love.
0, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go !
Whirling about in its maddening fun,
It plays in glee with every one.
Chasing,.
Laughing,
Hurling by,
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye.
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around,
The town is alive, and the heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow !
How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song !
How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye ;
Ringing,
Swinging,
Dashing they go,
Over the crust of the beautiful snow ;
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by,
150 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet,
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.
Once I was pure as the snow but I fell .'
Fell, like the snow-flakes, from heaven to hell ;
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat ;
Pleading,
Cursing,
Dreading to. die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy,
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread.
Merciful God ! have I fallen so low ?
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow.
Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow
Once I was loved for my innocent grace
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face.
Father,
Mother,
Sister and all,
God and myself lost by the fall.
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,
Will take a wide sweep least I wander too nigh ;
For all that is honor about me, I know
There is nothing that's pure as the beautiful snow.
How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with no where to go;
How strange it would be when the night comes again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain.
Fainting,
Freezing,
Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan ;
Too sad to be heard in the crazy town,
Gone mad in joy of the snow coming down,
To lie and die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.
THE AMBITIOUS YOUTH. 151
THE AMBITIOUS YOUTH.
THE scene opens with a view of the great Natural Bridge
In Virginia. There are two or three lads standing in. the
channel below, looking up with awe to that vast arch of
unhewn rocks, which the Almighty bridged over those ever-
lasting abutments, " when the morning stars sang to-
gether." The little piece of sky that is spanning those
measureless piers is full of stars, though it is mid-day. It
is a thousand feet from where they stand, up those perpen-
dicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key rock of that vast
arch which appears to them only of the^ize of a. man's hand.
The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the
little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel,
where once the waters of a Niagara may have rushed in
their fury.
The sun is darkened, and the boys have uncovered their
heads instinctively, as if standing in the presence-chamber
of the Majesty of the whole earth. At last this feeling of
awe wears away ; they begin to look around them ; they
find that others have been there and looked up with wonder
to that everlasting arch.
They see the names of hundreds cut in the limestone
abutments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts,
and their jack-knives are in their hands in an instant,
" "What man has done, man can do," is their watchword, and
fired with this noble spirit, they draw themselves up and
carve their names above those of a hundred tall, full-grown
men, who have been there before them.
They are all satisfied with this exploit of physical exer-
.tion, except one, whose example illustrates perfectly the for-
gotten truth that there is no royal road to intellectual emi-
nence. This ambitious youth sees a name just above his
reach a name that will be green in the memory of the
world when those of Alexander, Csesar, and Bonaparte shall
152 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
rot in oblivion. It was the name of WASHINGTON. Before he
marched with Braddock to that fatal field, lie had been there
and left his name a foot above all his predecessors. It was
a glorious thought of the boy to write his name side by side
with the great "Father of his country. /'
lie grasps his knife with a firmer hand, and clinging to a
little jutting crag, he cuts a gain into the limestone about a
foot above where he stands ; he then reaches up and cuts
another for his hands. 'Tis a dangerous feat, but, as he puts
his feet and hands into these gains, and draws himself up
carefully to his full length, he finds himself, to his inexpress-
ible exultation, a foot above every name that was ever chron-
icled in that mighty wall.
While his companions were regarding him with concern
and admiration, he cuts his name in rude capitals, large and
deep in that flinty album. His knife is still in his hand,
and strength in his sinews, and a new-created aspiration
in his heart. Again he cuts another niche, and again he
carves his name in large capitals. This is not enough.
Heedless of the entreaties of his companions, he cuts and
climbs again. The graduations of his ascending scale grow
wider apart. He measures his length at every gain, and
marks his ascent with larger capitals, and stronger hiero-
glyphics. The voices of his friends wax weaker and weaker,
and their words are finally lost on his ear.
He npw, for the last time, casts a look beneath him. Had
that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been
his last. He clings with a convulsive shudder to his little
niche of rock. An awful abyss, such a precipice as Golster's
son depicted to his blind father, awaits his almost certain
fall. He is faint from severe exertion, and trembling from
the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is
exposed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can
hear the voices, but not the words of his terror-stricken
companions below. What a moment ! What a meager
chance to escape destruction. There is no retracing his
steps. It is impossible to put his hands in the same niche
THE AMBITIOUS YOUTH. 153
with his feet, and retain his slender hold for a moment. His
companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma,
and await his fall with emotions that " freeze their young
blood."
He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother,
his brother and sister to come and witness or avert his de-
struction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire ;
he knows what yearnings come over the human heart when
the King of Terrors shakes his swords at his victim at any
time or place. Swift as the wind he bounds down the chan-
nel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon his
father's hearthstone.
Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and then there
are hundreds standing in the rocky channel, and hundreds
oil the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting
the affecting catastrophe.
The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices,
both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones
of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair,
" William ! William ! don't look down. Your mother and
Henry and Harriet are all here praying for you Don't look
down keep your eye toward the top ! " The boy did not
look down. His eye is fixed like a flint toward Heaven, and
his young heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps again
his knife. He cuts another niche, and another foot is added
to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human
help below. How carefully he uses his wasting blade!
How anxiously he selects the softest places in that vast pier !
How he avoids every flinty grain ! How he economizes his
physical powers, resting a moment at each gain he cuts !
How every motion is watched from below ! There stand
his father, mother, brother and sister on the very spot where,
if he falls, he will not fall alone.
The sun is now half way down the west. The lad has
made fifty additional niches in that mighty \vall, and now
finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch
of rocks and earth and trees.
154 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Ho must now cut his wny in a new direction to get from
under this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hope
is flickering out in his bosom ; its vital heat is fired by the
increasing shouts of hundreds perched upon clifis and trees,
and others who .stand with ropes in their hands, above, cr
with ladders below. Fifty gains more must be cut before
the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes
again into the limestone. A spy-glass below watches and
communicates to the multitude every mark of that faithful
knife. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from
under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready in the hands
of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge.
Two minutes more and all will be over. That blado is worn
up to the last half inch. The boy's head reels, his eyes are
starting from their sockets; his last hope is dying in his
breast ; his life must hang upon the next gain he cuts.
At the last faint gash he makes, his knife, his faithful knife,
drops from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing along
down the precipice, falls at his mother's feet. An involun-
tary groan of despair runs, like a death knell, through the
channel below, and then all is still as the grave. At the
height of nearly a thousand feet the devoted boy lifts his
hopeless heart, and closing his eyes, commends his soul to
God.
While he thus stands for a moment reeling, trembling, top-
pling over into eternity, a shout from above falls on his ear.
The man who is lying with half his body projecting over the
bridge, has caught a glimpse of the boy's shoulders, and a
smothered exclamation of joy bursts from his lips. Quick as
thought the noosed ropa is within reach of the sinking youth.
No one breathes ; half-unclosing his eyes, and with faint,
convulsive effort, the boy drops his arms through the noose.
Darkness comes over him, and with the words " God " and
"Mother "on his lips, just loud enough to bo heard in
Heaven, the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow
niche. The hands of a hundred men, women and children
aro pulling at that rope, and the unconscious boy is sus-
THE FLAG OF WASHINGTON. 155
pended and swaying over an abyss, which is the' closest rep-
resentative of eternity that has yet been found in height or
depth.
"Not a lip moves while he is dangling there ; but when a
sturdy Virginian draws up the lad, and holds him up in his
arms in view of the trembling multitude below, such shout-
ing, such leaping for joy, such tears of gratitude, such notes
of gladness as went up those unfathomable barriers, and
were reiterated and prolonged by the multitude above, were
alone akin to those which angels make when a straying soul
comes home to God.
THE FLAG OF WASHINGTON.
F. W. GILLETT.
DEAR banne:- of my native land ! ye gleaming, silver stars,
Broad, spotless ground of purity, crossed with your azure bars
Clasped by the hero-father's hand watched over in his might,
Through battle-hour and day of peace, bright morn and moonless
night,
Because, within your clustering folds, he knew you surely bore
Dear Freedom's hope for human souls to every sea and shore !
precious Flag ! beneath whose folds such noble deeds are done
The dear old Flag ! the starry Flag ! the Flag of Washington !
Unfurl, bright stripes shine forth, clear stars swing outward to
the breeze
Go bear your message to the wilds go tell it on the seas,
That poor men sit within your shade, and rich men in their pride
Thai beggar-boys and statesmen's sons walk 'neath you, side by
side ;
You guard the school-house on the green, the church upon the hill,
And fold your precious blessings round the cabin by the rill,
While weary hearts from every land beneath the shining sun
Find work, and rest, arid home beneath the Flag of Washington.
And never, never on the earth, however brave they be,
Shall friends or foes bear down this great, proud standard of the
Fre,
156 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Though theyaround its staff may pour red blood in rushing waves,
And build beneath its starry folds great pyramids of graves ;
For God looks out, with sleepless eye, upon his children's deeds,
Amd sees, through all their good and ill, their sufferings and their
needs ;
And He will watch, and He will keep, till human rights have won,
The dear old Flag ! the starry Flag ! the Flag of Washington !
THE ABBOT OF WALTHAM.
ANONYMOUS.
BLUFF Harry the Eighth was out hunting one day,
And outrode his henchman, and then lost his way :
He stumbled and grumbled, till weary and late,
He came to fair Waltham, and knock'd at the gate.
" So ho ! worthy father, a yeoman is here,
Who craves for a bed, and a tithe of your cheer."
So they led him at once, to the large guesten hall,
And summoned the abbot, who came to the call.
Now the abbot was plum]), ns an abbot should be.
He ordered a chine and some good Malvoisie,
<! And," quoth he, " honest yoeman, now spare not, I pray,
No beef have / tasted for many a day ;
For, alas ! 1 must own, that except for a bone
Of a capon or turkey, my appetite's gone.
I would give half my abbey for hunger like thine."
Said the King to himself, '' You shall soon have a chine."
At sunrise the abbot took leave of his guest,
Who, grace to the beef, had enjoyed a good rest,
But ere the next sun in the west had gone down,
The Abbot of Waltham was summoned to town.
He was lodged in the Tower, and there, day by day,
Fed on dry bread alone, till his flesh fell away,
When a rich juicy chine on his table was placed,
And to do it full justice th? abbot made haste.
ODE TO AN INFANT SON. 157
Such a dinner few abbots had certainly made,
His mouth and his teeth kept good time to his blade,
He ground it, and found it most excellent meat,
And vow'd that a monarch would find it a treat.
" Ha! ha " cried bluff Harry, who entered his cell,
" I have helped your digestion, Lord Abbot, right well.
Go home to your monks, for your health is now sure,
But half of your abbey I claim for the cure ! "
ODE TO AN INFANT SON.
THOMAS HOOD.
THOU happy, happy elf !
(But, stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)
Thou tiny image of myself !
(My love, he's poking peas into his ear,)
Thou merry, laughing spirit,
With spirits, feather light,
Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin ;
(My dear, the child is swallowing a pin !)
Thou little tricksy Puck !
With antic toys so funnily bestruck,
Light as the singing bird that rings the air,
(The door ! the door ! he'll tumble down the stairs !)
Thou darling of thy sire !
(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire !)
Thou imp of mirth and joy !
In love's dear chain so bright a link,
Thou idol of thy parent's ; (Hang the boy !
There goes my ink.)
Thou cherub, but of earth ;
Fit play-fellow for fairies, by moonlight pale,
In harmless sport and mirth,
(That dog will bite him, if he pulls his tail !)
Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
158 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Singing in youth's Elysium, ever sunny,
(Another tumble! That's his precious nose!)
Thy father's pride and hope !
(He'll break that mirror with that skipping-rope !)
With pure heart newly stamped from nature's mint,
(Where did he learn that squint ?)
Thou young domestic dove !
(He'll have that ring off with another shove,)
Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest !
(Are these torn clothes his best ?)
Little epitome of man !
(He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan,)
Touch'd with the beauteous tints of dawning life,
(He's got a knife !)
Thou enviable being !
No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
Play on, play on,
My elfin John !
Toss the light ball, bestride the stick,
(I knew so many cakes would make him sick !)
With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
With many a lamb-like frisk !
(He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown !)
Thou pretty opening rose !
(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !)
Balmy and breathing music like the south,
(He really brings my heart into my mouth !)
Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove ;
(I'll tell you what, my love,
I cannot write unless he's sent above.)
THE SCHOLAB'S MISSION.
GEORGE PUTNAM.
THE wants of our time and country, the constitution of
our modern society, our whole position, personal and relative,
THE SCHOLAR'S MISSION. 159
forbid a life of mero scholarship or literary pursuits to the
great majority of those who go out from our colleges. How-
ever it may have been in other times and other lands, here
and now but few of our educated men are privileged
" From the loopholes of retreat
To look upon the world, to hear the sound
Of the great Babel, and not feel its stir."
Society has work for us, and we must go forth to do it.
Full early and hastily we must gird on the manly gown,
gather up the loose leaves and scanty fragments of our
youthful lore, and go out among men, to act with them and
for them. It is a practical age ; and our wisdom, such as it
is, " must strive and cry, and utter her voice in the streets,
standing in the places of the paths, crying in the chief place
of concourse, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at
the doors."
This state of things, though not suited to the tastes and
qualities of all, is not, on the whole, to be regretted by edu-
cated men as such. It is not in literary production only, or
chiefly, that educated mind finds lit expression, and fulfils its
mission in honor and beneficence. In the great theatre of
the world's affairs there is a worthy and a sufficient sphere.
Society needs the well-trained, enlarged, and cultivated in-
tellect of the scholar in its midst ; needs it and welcomes it,
and gives it a place, or, by its own capacity, it will take a
place of honor, influence, and power.
The youthful scholar has no occasion to deplore the fate
that is soon to tear him from his studies, and cast him into
the swelling tide of life and action. None of his disciplinary
and enriching culture will be lost, or useless, even there.
Every hour of study, every truth he has. reached, and the
toilsome process 'by which he reached it; the heightened
grace, or vigor of thought or speech he has acquired, all
shall tell fully, nobly, if he will give heed to the conditions.
And one condition the prime one is, that he be a true man,
and recognize the obligation of a man, and go forth with
heart, arid will, and every gift and acquirement dedicated*
160 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
lovingly and resolutely, to the true and the right. These
are the terms : and apart from these there is no success, no
influence to be had, which an ingenuous mind can desire, or
which a sound and far-seeing mind would dare to ask.
Indeed, it is not an easy thing, nay, it is not a possible
thing, to obtain a substantial success and an abiding influ-
ence, except on these terms. A factitious popularity, a tran-
sient notoriety, or, in the case of shining talents, tlje doom
of a damning fame, may fall to bad men. But an honored
name, enduring influence, a sun brightening on through its
circuit, more and more, even to its serene setting this boon
of a true success goes never to intellectual qualities alone.
It gravitates slowly, but surely, to weight of character, to
intellectual ability rooted in principle.
CLAUDE MELNOTTE'S APOLOGY AND DE-
FENCE.
LORD LYTTON.
PAULINE, by pride
Angels have fallen ere thy time : by pride
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould
The evil spirit of a bitter love
And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.
From my first years my soul was filled with thee :
I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy
Tended, unmarked by thee a spirit of bloom,
And joy and freshness, as spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape !
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy ;
And from tliat hour I grew what to the last
I shall be thine adorer ! Well, this love,
Vain, frantic guilty, if thou wilt, became
A fountain of ambition and bright hope ;
I thought of tales that by the winter hearth
Old gossips tell how maidens sprung from kings
Have stoop'd from their high sphere ; how Love, like Death,
CLAUDE MELNOTTE'S APOLOGY AND DEFENCE. 161
Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook
Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home
In the soft palace of a fairy Future !
My father died ; and I, the peasant-born,
Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate ;
And, with such jewels as the exploring mind
f rings from the caves of Knowledge, buy my ransom
rom those twin jailers of the daring heart
Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image,
Glass'd in my soul, took all the hues of glory,
And lured me on to those inspiring toils
By" which man masters men ! For thee, I grew
A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages !
For thee, I sought to borrow from each Grace,
And every Muse, such attributes as lend
t Ideal charms to Love. I thought of thee,
And passion taught me poesy, of thee,
And on the painter's canvas grew the life
Of beauty ! Art became the shadow
Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes !
Men called me vain some, mad I heeded not ;
But still toil'd on hoped on, for it was sweet,
If not to win ; to feel more worthy, thee !
*******
At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour
The thoughts that burst their channels into song,
And sent them to thee such a tribute, lady,
As beauty rarely scorns even from the meanest.
The name appended by the burning heart
That long'd to show its idol what bright things
It had created yea, the enthusiast's name,
That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn !
That very hour when passion, turn'd to wrath,
Resembled hatred most when thy disdain
Made my whole suiil a chaos in that hour
The tempters found me a revengeful tool
For their revenge ! Thou hadst tran pled on the worm
It turned, and stung thee !
162 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
THE FOKGING OF THE ANCHOR
SAMUEL FEKGUSSON, Q. C.
COME, see the Dolphin's anchor forged ; 'tis at a white heat now ;
The billows ceased, the flames decreased ; though on the forge's
brow
The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound 4,
And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round,
All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare ;
Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.
The windlass strains the tackle-chains, the black mound heaves
below,
And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe ;
It rises, roars, rends all outright 0, Vulcan, what a glow !
'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright, the high sun shines not*$o !
The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery fearful show ;
The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy, lurid row
Of smiths, that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe ;
As quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster slow
Sinks on the anvil all about the faces fiery grow
"Hurrah!" they shout, leap out leap out:" bang, bang, the
sledges go ;
Hurrah ! the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low ;
A hailing fount of fire is struck at every squashing blow ;
The leathern mail rebounds the hail ; the rattling cinders strow
The ground around ; at every bound the sweltering fountains flow ;
And thick and loud the s winking crowd, at every stroke, pant
"Ho!"
Leap out, leap out, my masters ; leap out and lay on load !
Let's forge a goodly anchor, a bower, thick and broad;
For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I bode,
And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous road ;
The low reef roaring on her lee, the roll of ocean poured
From stem to stern, sea after sea, the mainmast by the board ;
The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats stove at the chains,
But courage still, brave mariners, the bower still remains,
THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR. 163
And not an inch to flinch he deigns save when ye pitch sky-high,
Then moves his head, as though he said, " Fear nothing here
ami!"
Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time,
Your blows make music sweeter far than any steeple's chime !
But while ye swing your sledges, sing ; and let the burden be,
The Anchor is the Anvil King, and royal craftsmen we ;
Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling red !
Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped ;
Our anchor soon must change his bed of -fiery rich array,
For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay ;
Our anchor soon must change the lay of merry craftsmen here,
For the Yeo-heave-o, and the Heave-away, and the sighing seaman's
cheer ;
When weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home,
And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.
In livid and obdurate gloom, he darkens down at last.
A shapely one he is, and strong as e'er from cat was cast.
A trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me,
What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep green sea !
0, deep sea-diver, who might then behold such sights as thou 1
The hoary monsters' palaces ! methinks what joy 'twere now
To go plump plunging down amid the assembly of the whales,
And feel the churn'd sea round me boil beneath their scourging
tails !
Then deep in tangle-woods to fight the fierce sea-unicorn,
And send him foiled and bellowing back, for all his ivory horn ;
To leave the subtle sworder-fish, of bony blade forlorn,
And for the ghastly grinning shaik, to laugh his jaws to scorn;
To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian isles
He lies, a lubber anchorage, for sudden shallowed miles ;
Till snorting, like an under-sea volcano, off he rolls,
Meanwhile to swing, a-buffeting the far-astonished shoals
Of his back-browsing ocean calves ; or haply in a cove,
Shell-strown, and consecrate of old to some Undine's love,
To find the long-haired mermaidens ; or, hard-by icy lands,
To wrestle with the sea-serpent, upon cerulean sands.
164 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
0, broad-armed Fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal thine 7
The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs thy cable line :
And night by night 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day,
Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play ;
But, shamer of our little sports ! forgive the name I gave,
A fisher's joy is to destroy thine office, is to save.
0, lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but understand
Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that dripping band,
Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round about thee bend,
With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient friend
Oh, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round
thee,
Thine iron side w r ould swell with pride, thou'dst leap within the sea !
Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand,
To shed their blood so freely for the love of fatherland
Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy church-yard grave
So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave .
Oh, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung,
Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes among !
THE WEECK OF THE HESPEEUS.
H. W. LONGFELLOW.
IT was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea ;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes, as the lairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 165
And watched ho\v the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now west, now south.
Then up and spake an old sailor,
Had sailed tl\e Spanish Main,
" I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.-
" Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see ! ''
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the northeast ;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength ;
She shuddered and paused, like a frightened steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.
" Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so ;
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow."
He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat,
Against the stinging blast ;
He cut a rope from a broken spar,
And bound her to the mast.
."0, father! 1 hear the church-bells ring,
Oh, say, what may it be V
" 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! "
And he steered for the open sea.
" 0, father ! I hear the sound of guns,
Oh, say, what may it be 1 "
166 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
" Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea ! "
" 0, father ! I see a gleaming light,
Oh, say, what may it be 1 "
But the father answered never a word !
A frozen corpse was h.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,
The lantern gleamed through the glancing snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed
That saved she might be ;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the waves
On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.
And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land ;
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew,
. Like icicles, from her deck.
She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side,
Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts, went by the board j
THE MAN OF ROSS. 167
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared.
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair
Lashed close to a drifting mast.
The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes ;
And" he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow !
Christ, save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman's Woe !
THE MAN OF EOSS.
ALEXANDER POPE.
ALL our praises why should lords engross 1
Rise, honest Muse ! arid sing the Man of Ross :
Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow 1
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow 7
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost ;
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows 1
Whose seats the weary traveller repose I
Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise 7
" The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread !
The Man of Ross divides the weekly brea*:
He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state,
Where age and want sit smiling at the gate :
168 RECITATIONS A^D DIALOGUES.
Him portioned maids, apprenticed orphans blessed,
The young who labor, and the old who rest.
Is any sick 7 the Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes and gives.
Is there a variance ? enter but his door,
Baulked are the courts, and contest is no more.
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile attorneys, now a useless race.
Thrice happy man I enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the power to do !
0, say ! what sums that generous hand supply ?
What mines to swell that boundless charity ?
Of debts and taxes, wife and children elear y
This man possessed five hundred pounds a year.
Blush, Grandeur, blush ! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze !
Ye little stars, hide your diminished rays I
And what I no monument, inscription, stone ?
His race, his form, his name almost unknown ?
Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name :
Go, search it there, where to be born and die,
Of rich and poor makes all the history *
Enough, that virtue filled the space between ;
Proved by the ends of being to have been.
NO WOBK THE HAEDEST WORK.
C, F.
Ho ! ye who at the anvil toil,
And strike the sounding blow,
Where from the burning iron's breast
The sparks fly to and fro,
While answering to the hammer's ring,
And fire's intenser glow
Oh ! while ye feel 'tis hard to toil
An<f sweat the long day through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
NO WORK THE HARDEST WORK. 169
Ho ! ye who till the stubborn soil,
Whose hard hands guide the plough,
Who bend beneath the summer sun,
With burning cheek and brow
Ye deem the curse still clings to earth
From olden time till now
But while ye feel 'tis hard to toil
And labor all day through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Ho ! ye who plough the sea's blue field,
Who ride the restless wave,
Beneath whose- gallant vessel's keel
There lies a yawning, grave,
Around whose bark the wintry winds
Like fiends of fury rave
Oh ! while ye feel His hard to toil
And labor long hours through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Ho ! ye upon whose fevered cheeks
The hectic glow is bright,
Whose mental toil wears out the day
And half the weary night ;
Who labor for the souls of men,
Champions of truth and right ;
Although ye feel your toil is hard,
Even with this glorious view, 9
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Ho ! all who labor, all who strive,
Ye wield a lofty power ;
Do with your might, do with your strength,
Fill every golden hour !
The glorious privilege to do,
Is man's most noble dower.
170 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Oh ! to your birthright and yourselves,
To your own souls, be true !
A weary, wretched life is theirs,
Who have no work to do.
WHAT IS TIME?
MABSDEN.
I ASKED an aged man, with hoary hairs,
Wrinkled and curved with worldly cares ;
"Time is the warp of life," said he, " oh, tell
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well ! "
I asked the ancient, venerable dead,
Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled ;
From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed,
" Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode ! "
I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide
Of life had left his veins ; " Time ! " he replied ;
" I've lost it ! ah, the treasure ! " and he died.
I asked the golden sun and silver spheres,
Those bright chronometers of days and years ;
They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare,''
And bade me for Eternity prepare.
I asked the Seasons, in their annual round,
Which beautify or desolate the ground ;
And they replied (no oracle more wise),
" 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize !
I asked a spirit lost, but oh, the shriek
That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak,
It cried, " A particle ! a speck ! a mite
Of endless years, duration infinite ! "
Of things inanimate my dial I
Consulted, and it made me this reply.
" Time is the season fair of living well,
The path of glory or the path of hell."
I asked my Bible, and methinks it said,
" Time is the present hour, the past has fled ;
BKUTUS'S ORATION. 171
Live! live to-day! to-morrow never yet
On any human being rose or set."
I asked old Father Time himself at last ;
But in a moment he flew swiftly past,
His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind
His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind.
1 asked the might)' angel, who shall stand
One foot on sea, and one on solid land ;
" Mortal ! " he cried, the mystery now is o'er ;
Time was, Time is, but time shall be no more ! "
LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS' S OEATION OVER
THE BODY OF LUCRETIA.
J. H. PAYNE.
WOULD you know why I summoned you together ?
Ask ye what brings me here 1 Behold this dagger,
Clotted with gore ! Behold that frozen corse !
See where the lost Lucretia sleeps in death !
She was the mark and model of the time,
The mould in which each female face was formed,
The very shrine and sacristy of virtue !
Fairer than ever was a form created
By youthful fancy when the blood strays wild,
And never resting thought is all on fire !
The worthiest of the worthy ! Not the nynlph
Who met old Numa in his hallowed walks,
And whispered in his ear her strains divine,
Can I conceive beyond her; the young choir
Of vestal virgins bent to her. 'Tis wonderful
Amid the darnel, hemlock, and base weeds,
Which now spring rife from the luxurious compost
Spread o'er the realm, how this sweet lily rose,
How from the shade of those ill-neighboring plants
Her father sheltered her, that not a leaf
Was blighted, but, arrayed in purest grace,
She bloomed unsullied beauty. Such perfections
172 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Might have called back the torpid breast of age
To long-forgotten rapture ; such a mind
Might hare abashed the boldest libertine
And turned desire to reverential love,
And holiest affection! Oh, my countrymen !
You all can witness when that she went, forth
It was a holiday in Rome ; old age
Forgot its crutch, labor its task, all ran,
And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried,
" There, there's Lucretia ! " Now, look ye, where she lies !
That beauteous flower, that innocent sweet rose,
Torn up by ruthless violence gone ! gone ! gone !
Say, would you seek instruction 7 would ye ask
What ye should do 1 Ask ye yon conscious walls,
Which saw his poisoned brother,
Ask yon deserted street, where Tullia drove
O'er her dead father's corse, 'twill cry, Revenge !
Ask yonder senate-house, whose stones are purple
With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge !
Go to the tomb where lies his murdered wife,
And tho poor queen, who loved him as her son,
Their unappeased ghosts will shriek, Revenge !
The temples of the gods, the all- vie wing heavens,
The gods themselves, shall justify the cry,
And swell the general sound, Revenge ! Revenge !
And we wi.l be revenged, my countrymen !
Brutus shall lead you on ; Brutus, a name
Which will, when you're revenged, be dearer to him
Than all the noblest titles earth can boast.
Brutus your king ! No, fellow-citizens !
If mad ambition in this guilty frame
Had strung one kingly fibre, yea, but one
By all the gods, this dagger which I hold
Should rip it out, though it entwined my heart.
Now take the body up. Bear it before us
To Tarquin's palace ; there we'll light our torches,
And in the blazing conflagration, rear
A pile for these chaste relics, that shall send
Her soul amongst the stars. On ! Brutus leads you !
WHAT IS THAT. MOTHER ? 173
WHAT IS THAT, MOTHEE?
DOANE.
WHAT is that, mother 1
The Lark, my child,
The morn has just looked out, and smiled,
When he starts from his humble, grassy nest,
And is up and away with the dew on his breast
And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere,
To warble it out in his Maker's ear.
Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays
Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise.
What is that, mother ?
The Dove, my son,
And that low, sweet voice, like the widow's moan,
Is flowing out from her gentle breast,
Constant and pure, by that lonely nest,
As the wave is poured from some crystal urn,
For her distant dear one's quick return.
Ever, my son, be thou like the dove
In friendship as faithful, as constant in love.
What is that, mother 1
The Eagle, boy,
Proudly careering his course of joy,
Firm, in his own mountain vigor relying,
Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying ;
His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun,
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on.
Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine,
Onward and upward, true to the 1 ne.
What is that, mother 1
The Swan, my love,
He is floating down from his native grove,
No loved one now, no nestling nigh ;
He is floating down by himself to die.
171 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings.
Live so, my love, that when death shall come,
Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.
A COLLOQUY WITH MYSELF.
BERNARD BARTON.
As I walked by myself, I talked to myself,
And myself replied to me ;
And the questions myself then put to myself,
With their answers, I give to thee.
Put them home to thyself, and if unto thyself,
Their responses the same should be,
Oh ! look well to thyself, and beware of thyself,
Or so much the worse for thee.
What are Riches 1 Hoarded treasures
May, indeed, thy coffers fill ;
Yet, like earth's most fleeting pleasures,
Leave thee poor and heartless still.
What are Pleasures 7 When afforded
But by gauds which pass away,
Read their fate in lines recorded
On the sea-sands yesterday.
What is Fashion 1 Ask of Folly,
She her worth can best express.
What is moping Melancholy 7
Go and learn of Idleness.
What is Truth 7 Too stern a preacher
For the prosperous and the gay !
But a safe and wholesome teacher
In Adversity's dark day.
What is Friendship 7 If well founded,
Like some beacon's heavenward glow ;
A COLLOQUY WITH MYSELF. 175
If on false pretensions grounded,
Like the treacherous sand below.
What is Love 7 If earthly only,
Like a meteor of the night ;
Shining but to leave more lonely
Hearts that hailed its transient light :
But when calm, refined, and tender,
Purified from passion's stain,
Like the moon, in gentle splendor,
Ruling o'er the peaceful main.
What are Hopes, but gleams of brightness,
Glancing darkest clouds between 1
Or foam-crested waves, whose whiteness
Gladdens ocean's darksome green.
What are Fears 1 Grim phantoms, throwing
Shadows o'er the pilgrim's way,
Every moment darker growing,
If we yield unto their sway.
What is Mirth ? A flash of lightning,
Followed but by deeper gloom.
Patience 1 More than sunshine brightening
Sorrow's path, and labor's doom.
What is Time 1 A river flowing
To Eternity's vast sea,
Forward, whither all are rowing,
On its bosom bearing thee.
What is Life 1 A bubble floating
On that silent, rapid stream ;
Few, too few, its progress noting,
Till it 'bursts, and ends the dream.
What is Death, asunder rending
Every tie we love so well 1
176 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
But the gate to life unending,
Joy, in heaven ! or woe, in hell !
Can these truths, by repetition,
Lose their magnitude or weight 1
Estimate thine own condition,
Ere thou pass that fearful gate.
Hast thou heard them oft repeated,
Much may still be left to do :
Be not by profession cheated ;
Live as if thou knewest them true.
As I walked by myself, I talked to myself,
And myself replied to me ;
And the questions myself then put to myself,
With their answers, I've given to thee.
Put them home to thyself, and if unto thyself
Their responses the same should be,
Oh ! look well to thyself, and beware of thyself,
Or so much the worse for thee.
SAINT PHILIP NEKI AND THE YOUTH.
DB. BYKOM.
SAINT PHILIP NERI, as old readings say,
Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day ;
And being ever courteously inclined
To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
He fell into* discourse with him; and thus
The dialogue they held comes down to us.
SAINT. Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome 7
YOUTH. To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
SAINT. And, when you are one, what do you intend 1
YOUTH. To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
SAINT. Suppose it so what have you next in view 7
YOUTH. That I may get to be a canon, too.
THE CHAMELEON. 177
SAINT. Well ; and how then 1
YOUTH. Why, then, for aught I know,
I may bo made a bishop.
SAINT. Be it so
What then 1
YOUTH. Why, cardinal's a high degree
And yet my lot it possibly may be.
SAINT. Suppose it was, what then 1
YOUTH. Why, who can say
But I've a chance of being pope one day ?
SAINT. Well, having worn the mitre and red hat,
And triple crown, what follows after that 1
YOUTH. Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
Upon this earth that wishing can procure:
When I've enjoyed a dignity so high,
As long as God shall please, then I must die.
SAINT. What ! must you die 1 fond youth ! and at the best
But wish, and hope, and may be all the rest !
Take my advice whatever may betide,
For that which must be, first of all provide ;
Then think of that which may be, and indeed,
When well prepared, who knows what may succeed 7
But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal and pope.
THE CHAMELEON.
MEBHICK.
OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post ;
Yet round the world the blade has been,
To see whatever could be seen.
Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times porter than before ;
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travelled fool your mouth will stop :
178 RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
" Sir, if my judgment you'll allow
I've seen and sure I ought to know "
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.
Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that ;
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
" A stranger animal," cries one,
" Sure never lived beneath the sun :
A lizard's body lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its tooth with triple claw disjoined ;
And what a length of tail behind !
How slow its pace ! and then its hue
Who ever saw so fine a blue ? "
" Hold there ! " the other quick replies,
" 'Tis green I saw it wit i these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warmed it in the sunny ray ;
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed,
And saw it eat the air for food."
"I've seen it, sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue ;
At leisure I the beast surveyed,
Extended in the cooling shade."
" 'Tis green ! 'tis green, sir, I assure ye."
" Green ! " cries the other, in a fury :
" Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes 1 "
" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies ;
" For if they always serve you thus,
You'll find them but of little use."
So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows :
When luckily came by a third ;
To him the question they referred ;
And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,
HENRY THE FOURTH'S SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP. 179
Whether the thing was green or blue.
" Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother
The creature's neither one nor t'other.
I caught the animal last night,
And viewed it o'er -by candlelight :
I marked it well 'twas black as jet
You stare but, sirs. I've got it yet,
And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do ;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
" And I'll be sworn, that, when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."
" Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,' 1
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out :
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him,"
He said ; then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo ! 'twas white.
Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise
*' My children," the Chameleon cries
(Then first the creature found a tongue),
" You all are right, and all are wrong :
When next you talk of what you view,
Think others see as well as you :
Nor wonder, if you find that none
Prefers your eyesight to his own."
HENEY THE FOUETH'S SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP.
8HAK8PEABE.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep ! sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh rny eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetful ness 1
Why rather, sleep, liest Ihou in smoky cribs,
. Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
180 KECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES.
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody 7
! thcu dull god, why liest thou with the vile.
In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common : larurn bell 1
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamors in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly, death itself awakes 7
Canst thou, partial sleep ! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king 1 Then, happy low-lie-down !
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
ON PEOCEASTINATION.
YOUNG.
BE wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer ;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead ;
Thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time ;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears
The palm, "That all men are about to live,"
For ever on the brink of being born.
All pay themselves the compliment to think
They one day shall not drivel ; and their pride
On this reversion takes up ready praise :
At least their own ; their future selves applaud
ON PROCRASTINATION. 181
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails;
That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they consign ;
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone,
'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool,
And scarce in human wisdom to do more.
All promise is poor dilatory man,
And that through every stage. When young, indeed,
In full content we sometimes nobly rest,
Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish,
As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise.
At thirty man suspects himself a fool ;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ;
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same.
And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal but themselves ;
Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate
Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread ;
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon close ; where passed the shaft no trace is found,
As from the wing no scar the sky retains,
The parted ware no furrow from the keel,
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
Even with the tender tears which nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
APPENDIX.
THE design of the author in preparing this small volume,
was, that he might present in a condensed form a work that
would contain a suitable variety and a sufficient number of
selections for elocutionary practice. Since its publication,
many teachers have solicited the author to present a more
extensive analysis of the principles of reading ; that the work
might be made more practical as a text book on reading to
the class of pupils usually found in the upper classes in our
public schools and seminaries.
We would not here present to the students a long series of
rules which, at best, are of but little worth. There are many
introductory principles that find their proper place in our
elementary readers ; and we would not increase the size
of our volume by repeating them.
Elaborate treatises on the subject of elocution are of val-
ue to those desirous of obtaining a thorough knowledge of
the art. An intermediate course, however, is demanded by
the pupils of our schools. We should give them less of the
theory, more of the practice.
The cultivation of the pure tone should receive special at-
tention. A clear and distinct enunciation is the first essen-
tial requisite of a good reader. This can be attained. It may
require time, but it will richly compensate the student for all
his toil. Suggestions are given for the cultivation of clear
and full tones in our brief analysis on the first few pages.
We would suggest as an auxiliary exercise that the student
read a selection backward the teacher placing himself on
182
APPENDIX. 183
the opposite side of the room. Should the student fail to
enunciate a single word distinctly, his attention should be
called to it. This exercise might be practised in the open
air, and it will be productive of good results. Care should
be taken, however, that no vocal exercise be continued for so
long a time that the voice becomes wearied.
We give below a few combinations, which should be first
pronounced by the teacher and then by the student or class.
This exercise will be found of value in securing distinct ar-
ticulation. A brief elementary exercise in gymnastics will
have a salutary effect upon the class if given directly before
the vocal drill.
EXERCISE IN ENUNCIATION.
bd orb'd, prob'd, rob'd, sob'd
Id bold, hail'd, toll'd, mail'd.
Im helm, whelm, film, elm.
' & falls, tells, toils, rolls.
nk bank, drink, link, rink.
rvd curv'd, swerv'd, starv'd, serv'd.
rnd burn'd, turn'd. spurn'd, xvarm'd.
thd breath'd, wreath'd, sheath'd, bequeath'd.
1st call'st, till'st, rolPst, heal'st.
dst mind'st, call'dst, fill'dst, roll'dst.
tigs rings, wrongs, hangs, songs.
ngd clang'd, wrong'd, hang'd. bang'd.
rdst heard'st, reward'st, guard'st, discard'st.
Ir brave, bread, brink, bright.
shr shrine, shroud, shriek, shrub,
/flame, fly, flee, flit.
EXAMPLES IN PITCH.
MIDDLE PITCH PURE TONE.
1. " Probably no man since the days of Washington was ever so
deeply enshrined in the hearts of the American people as Abraham
Lincoln Nor was it a mistaken confidence and love. He deserved
it all. He deserved it in his character, by the whole tenor, tone,
184 APPENDIX.
and spirit of his life. He was simple, sincere, plain, honest, truth-
ful, just, benevolent and kind."
SAME PITCH AND TONE AS PRECEDING EXAMPLE.
2. " Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand.
Green-wall' d by the hills of Maryland."
VERY LOW PITCH PURE EXPULSIVE TONE.
1. " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Many a young
hand dropped in its little wreath, many a stifled sob was heard.
Some and they were not a few knelt down. All were sincere
and'truthful in their sorrow."
SAME PITCH OROTUND EXPULSIVE TONE.
2. " Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er
The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling, 'tis the knell
Of the departed year."
VERY HIGH PITCH OROTUND EFFUSIVE TONE.
1. " Ah ! there's a deathless name '
A spirit that the smothering vaults shall spurn,
And, like a steadfast planet, mount and bum
And though its crown of flame
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone
By all the fiery stars ! I'd bind it on ! "
EXAMPLES IN EMPHASIS AND SLIDE.
1. " True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech."
2. " Sink or swim, live or die, I am for the declaration."
3. " I will not, MUST not, DARE not grant your wish."
4. " It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the OCCA-
SION."
5. '*' John Maynard was well known in the lake district as a God-
fearing, honest and intelligent pilot."
6 " In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was LOYAL vet."
APPENDIX. 185
EXAMPLES OF THE RHETORICAL PAUSE.
1. " He has passed to that world | where the weary are at rest."
2. " Tell father when he comes from work, I said | good night |
to him. '
3. " I come to bury ! Caesar, not to praise | him "
4. " There's but one pair of stockings | to mend to-night.''
5. " 'Twas said | that far through the forest wild,
Arid over the mountain bold,
Was a land | whose rivers and darkening caves |
Were gemmed with the rarest gold."
EXAMPLES OF PERSONATION.
1. " ' But General.' cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow,
The very men who fought with us, they say are traitors
now. ' "
2. " ' How far are we from Buffalo ? '
' Seven miles. 1
1 How long before we can reach there 1 '
' Three-quarters of an hour at our present rate of steam.' "
3 " She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will,
' Shoot, if you must, this old gray heaji,
But spare your country's flag,' she said."
4. " No, thank ye, sir, I never drink ;
Roger and I are exceedingly moral.
Aren't we, Roger ? see him wink !
Well, something hot, then we won't quarrel."
All the exercises given in this appendix are selected from
pieces which are given in full in this volume. By careful
study of the analysis here given the student will have a bet-
ter appreciation of the pieces themselves, and, therefore, be
better prepared to begin the study of them. The examples
of personation are given without any special analysis we
need give none we would simply repeat what we have said
before ; clearly understand the character, and imitate true to life.
186 APPENDIX.
We would ask the student ever to bear this thought in
mind Be natural. You should be students of nature and
observers of men. Do not confound the word " natural "
with the word " habitual.*' The habits into which you have
fallen may be wrong your habitual style of reading may be
very incorrect but if you follow nature's laws you cannot
err. Cultivate an easy and graceful position and carriage,
and study the true philosophy of gesture for the natural ex-
pression of thought.
We would suggest as one of the best methods of teaching
gesture that the teacher have the class rise and take one of
two positions, i. e., the weight resting on either right or left
foot. He should practise them in advancing and retiring
requiring them to step as he counts. The exercise will in-
spire confidence, and relieve all of any embarrassment which
they might feel if called up one by one. Continue this ex-
ercise until all move naturally and easily. Give the class
now some simple sentence requiring a single gesture have
them recite the sentence and make the gesture with you
next, take a passage from some selection and have them give
it with all the gestures. The teacher during this exercise
should always stand in front of the class, and give them a
correct model. We well know that no work 011 this subject
can fully supply the place of a living teacher. We have
taken it for granted that the teacher knows how to gesticu-
late himself. An elocutionary exercise must be a dull and
lifeless one if the teacher be ignorant of the art of reading.
We now place this little manual in the hands of earnest
teachers, trusting that they will iind in it a sufficient number
and variety of selections to meet the demands of the school-
room.
TESTIMONIALS.
From Prof. J. V. N. STANDISH, A.M., late President of the Illinois State
Teachers' 1 Association.
* * * "\YTiile here Mr. F. B. WILSON has taught several classes in
Elocution, and with great success. From his large experience in teaching
this important branch of education, it is with pleasure I recommend him to
public confidence."
GALESBUBG, ILL., June 21, 1866.
From Rev. James H. HERRON, A.M., President of Springfield Female College t
Ohio.
" It gives me pleasure to say that I think the young ladies of this institu-
tion have derived substantial advantage from the instruction of Mr. WILSON.
APRIL 10, 1867.
1 From J. C. SMALL, LL.JB., President Business College, Zan&svilU, Ohio.
" Mr. F. B. WILSON has given several lectures and readings to our students
with entire satisfaction. I regard him as thoroughly competent to teach
elocution, and take pleasure in recommending him to the confidence of the
public."
MAY 10, 1867.
From Rev. J. P. WESTON, D.D., President of Lombard University, Oaleslurg t
Illinois.
" This may certify that Mr. F. B. WILSON, of New York, has, during the
past term, given instruction in Lombard University to a class in elocution,
very much to my satisfaction and to the profit of the cla&s. I cheerfully
commend him to public confidence and patronage ."
JUNE 21, 1866.
187
188 TESTIMONIALS.
From Rev. SAMUEL SPRECHER, D.D., President of Wittenberg College, Ohio.
" It gives me pleasure to say that Prof. WILSON has fulfilled his engage-
ment as a teacher of Elocution in our institution in a very satisfactory man-
ner. The class seem to have been greatly pleased and benefitted by his
instructions. I think we have never been visited by a more successful teacher
of Elocution."
MAY 31, 1867.
From Rev. J. L. RODGERS, A.M., Principal of Springfield Female Seminary,
Ohio.
" Prof. F. B. WILSON has taught a class in Elocution in the Springfield
Female Seminary with excellent success. I regard him as well qualified to
give instruction in Elocution."
APRIL 5, 1867.
From Rev. DA VID PA UL, A.M., President of Muskingum College, New Concord,
Ohio.
" Prof. WILSON has lately visited Muskingum College and taught a class in
Elocution. It affords me pleasure to say that I believe he has given much
substantial and valuable instruction. His enthusiasm in his profession
promises complete Success ; and his social disposition and moral character
render him worthy of public confidence and patronage."
MAY 6, 1867.
DICK & FITZGERALD,
PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
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Day's American Ready-Reckoner, containing Tables for
rapid calculations of Aggregate Values, Wages, Salaries, Board, Interest
Money, &e., <Src. Also, Tables of Timber, Plank, Board and Log Measure-
ments, with full explanations how to measure them, either by the square,
foot (board measure), cubic foot (timber measure 1 , &c. Bound in boards.
Pi ice 50 CtS.
Bound in cloth .'. 75 Cts-
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed.
The Courtship and Adventures of Jonathan Homebred ;
or, The Scrapes and Escapes of a Live Yankee. Beautifully Illustrated.
J2iao., cloth. This book is printed in handsome style, on good paper, and
with amusing eneravings.
Price T. gl 50
The Wizard of the North's Hand-Book of Natural
Magic. Bting a series of the Newest Tricks of Deception, arranged for
Aniaieurs and Lovers of the Art. By Professor J. H. AM^iisox, the great
"Wizard of the North.
Price .25 Cts.
The Encyclopedia of Popular Songs. Being a compila-
tion of all the new and fashionable Patriotic, Sentimental, Ethiopian,
Humorous, Comic and Convivial bongs, the whole comprising over 400
gongs.
l-2mo., cloth, gilt. Price $1 25
Tony Pastor's Book of 600 Comic Songs and Speeches,
Being an entire collection of all the Humorous Songs, Stump Speeches,
Burlesque Orations, Funny Scenes, Comic Duets, Diverting Dialogues, and
Local Lyrics, as sung and given by the unrivaled Comic Vocalist and Stump
Orator, TONY PASTOR.
Bound in boards, cloth back $1 00
Yale College Scrapes ; or, H<,w the Boys Go It at New Haven,
- -* "'" -' - -f all the noted and fa^
at Old Yale have been
25 eta,
The Comic English (iranunar ; or, A Complete grammar of
cur Language, with Comic Examples. Illustrated with about fifty engrav-
ings. Pries , 25 Ct3,
The Comical Adventures of David Bufiicks. Illustrated
with over one hundred Funny Engravings. Large octavo.
Pries >..25ctB,
Anecdotes Of Love, Being a true account of the most re-
markable events connected with the History of Love in all Ages and among:
all Nations. By LOLA MOKTEZ, Countess of Landsieldt.
Large 12mo., cloth. Price ,.... >...%\ 50
Tony Pastor's Complete Budget of Comic Songs, Con-
taining a complete collection of the "New and Original Songs, Burlesque
Orations, Stump Speeches, Comic Dialogues, Pathetic Ballads, as sung and
given by the celebrated Vocalist, TONY PASTOE.
Cloth, gilt. Price gl 25
The Laughable Adventures of Messrs. Brown, Joaes and
[Robinson. Showing where they went and how they went ; what they did
and bow they did it. With nearly two hundred most thrillingiy comic
engravings.
Price ,., , 30 cts.
De Walden's Bali-Room Companion; or, Dancing ILide
Easy. A collection of the Fashionable Drawing-Boom Dances, with full
directions for dancing all the figures of " The German.*' I LucWAi-
DEX, ProfeSsor of Dancing. BouM in boards, cloth back 50 cts.
This is a book of 114 pages, containing accounts of all the noted and
inous " Scrapes " and " Sprees," of which students a
guilty for the last quarter of a century.
Price
Popular f? > I yen: Free of Postage at the " .nezed.
The Social..-: /', One Thousand a'"<l On-: v.&einentx
Containing Acting Proverbs, Charades, Musical Burlesques, Tableaux
Vivants, Parlor Games, Forfeits, Parlor Magic, and a choice collection oi
curious mental and mechanical puzzles, etc. Illustrated with engraving
and diagrams.
12mo., cloth, gilt side stamp. Price 81 5(
Prank Converse's Complete Banjo Instructor, without a
Master. Containing a choice collection of Banjo Solos. Hornpipes, E eels
Jigs, Walk-Arpunds, Songs and Banjo Stories, i)rogressiveiy array .
plainly explained, enabling- the learner to become a proficient ban jo:-'
out the aid or a teacher. Illustrated with diagrams and explanatory sym-
bols. 100 pages. Bound in boards, cloih back. Price 50 Cts
The Magician's Own Book. Containing several hundred
amusing Sleight-of-hand and Card Tricks, Perplexing Puzzles, Entertain-
ing Tricks and Secret Writing Explained. Illustrated with over 500 wooc
engravings.
12mo., cloth, gilt side and back stamp. Price ' 1 5(
The Secret Ollt; or, One Thousand Tricks w>th Cards. A boolj
which explains all the Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards cvei
known or invented. Illustrated with over 3GO engravings.
398 pages, 12mo., cloth, gilt side. Price '. $1 5C
Book of Riddles and 500 Home Amusements. Containing
all kind ;of Curious Kiddles, Amusing Puzzles, Queer Sleights and Enter-
taming Recreations in Science, for Family and Social Pastime^ Illustrates
with GO engravings. Paper covers. Price 30 Cts
Bound in boards, cloth back , 50 cts-
Parlor Tricks With Cards. Containing explanations of all
the Deceptions with Playing Cards ever invented. The whole illustrated
and made easy with 70 engravings.
Paper covers. Price 30 cts-
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts.
The Book Of Fireside Games. Containing a description
of the most Entertaining Games suited to the Family Circle as a Recrea-
tion. Paper covers. Price 30 cts-
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 ctS-
The Play-Room; or, Li-Door Game* for Boys and G iris. Small
octavo, profusely illustrated wilh 197 fine wood -cuts.
Bound in boards, cloth back. Price 50 cts.
Bound in cloth, gilt side 75 CtS.
The Play-Ground; or, Out-Dw Qamttfor Boy*. A hook of
healthy recreations for youth. Containing over 100 Amusements. Illus-
trated with 124 fine wood -cuts.
Bound in boards, cloth back. Price 50 cts.
Bound in cloth, gilt side 75 Cts.
The Parlor Magician ; or, One lit/wired Tritfa for the Draw-
ing-Room. Illustrated and clearly explained, with 121 engravings.
Paper covers. Price ?0 cts.
Boards, cloth back 50 cts-
The Book of 500 CnriOHS Puzzles, Containing all kinds
of entertaining 1 Paradoxes, Deceptions in Numbers, etc. Illustrated with
numerous entrra vines. Paper covers. Price SO cts.
Bound in boaras, cloth back 50 cts.
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U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES
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