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 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 IN FOUR PARTS: 
 
 ORTHOPHONY, CLASS METHODS, GESTURE, 
 AND ELOCUTION. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR TEACHERS AND STUDENTS. 
 By H. L. D. POTTER 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
 
 18 77. 
 

 EDUCATION DEPT. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
 
 Harper & Brothers, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This work is prepared with three objects in view: com- 
 pleteness ', that nothing be wanting to assist the teacher or 
 student of reading ; correctness, that nothing erroneous 
 be learned ; and brevity, that its price be within the means 
 of every person desiring it. 
 
 To teach reading properly, we must possess the knowl- 
 edge or avail ourselves of the assistance of the following 
 works, viz. : a work on Calisthenics, or chest development; 
 Orthophony, or voice-training ; Elocution, as a science ; 
 Gesture, or action ; and Rhetoric, in order to review the 
 selections which are read in class from time to time. 
 
 This Manual is intended to combine all the essential 
 qualities of these books. 
 
 Part First contains Orthophony, or Voice-training, in- 
 cluding Calisthenics ; Part Second, the most popular and 
 practical Class Methods, both primary and advanced ; 
 Part Third, Gesture ; and Part Fourth, Elocution, includ- 
 ing a chapter on Rhetoric. 
 
 The following works have been consulted during its 
 preparation : Dr. Push on the Voice, " Bell's Anatomy 
 of Expression," Webster's and Worcester's Dictionaries, 
 Vandenhoff's "Art of Elocution," and Murdoch's and 
 Russell's "Vocal Culture." 
 
 Thanking William A. Wheeler, of Boston, and Miss 
 Emily A. Rice, formerly of the Normal and Training 
 School in Oswego, 1ST. Y., now principal of a ladies' school 
 in Darien, Conn., for valuable suggestions, this little work 
 is respectfully submitted to the public. 
 
 !v:£09503 
 
HOW TO USE THIS MANUAL WITHOUT A 
 TEACHER. 
 
 The following series of graded lessons may serve as a 
 guide to another plan more or less difficult, as may be re- 
 quired. If the lessons are too long as you proceed, alter- 
 nate some of the exercises day by day, or omit a few of 
 the easier ones. Thirty minutes' continuous vocal exercise 
 should be succeeded by at least thirty minutes' rest. 
 
 First Week. Daily Exercises. 
 
 1 . Rub the chest with the hand or brush every morning. 
 
 2. Percussion (page 25). 
 
 3. Sustain one note of the scale (page 20). 
 
 4. Count as many as possible (page 21). 
 
 5. Repeat a line or couplet (page 21). 
 
 G. Learn the definitions (one or two each day) on page 115. 
 
 7. Memorize one stanza each day of some favorite poem (see page 86). 
 
 Second Week. Daily Exercises. 
 
 1. Chafe the chest, and percuss, as in the first week (page 25). 
 
 2. Take the single thrust exercise (page 25). 
 
 3. Sustain the three first notes of the scale (page 58). 
 
 4. Read the examples for monotone upon each of the three notes (page 59). 
 
 5. Count (page 21), and repeat a line or couplet (page 21). 
 
 6. Practice Fig. 1 of Table 11 (page 13), and dissyllables (page 16). 
 
 7. Learn facts on page 117, and practice five of the examples on page 55, 
 
 8. Memorize one or more stanzas each day (page 86). 
 
 Third Week. Daily Exercises. 
 
 1. Chafe, percuss, and add the double to the former thrust exercise (page 26). 
 
 2. Sustain jive notes of the scale, and read upon each key in monotone (p. 59). 
 
 3. Count and repeat a couplet, aloud and in a whisper (page 21). 
 
 4. Practice Fig. 1 and Fig. 2 (page 13), and dissyllables, and trisyllables (p. 16). 
 
 5. Learn facts on page 118, in connection with the table (page 116). 
 
 6. Memorize as usual, and practice ten examples (page 55). 
 
 Fourth Week. Daily Exercises. 
 
 1. Chafe, percuss, and take 2, 3, 4 chest exercises (pages 25 and 26). 
 
 2. Sustain five notes of the scale, and read upon each of them. 
 
 3. Count, and repeat stanzas aloud, and in an intense whisper. 
 
 4. Practice Figs.l, 2, 3, Table 11 (p. 13), Figs. 1, 2, Table 10 (p. 12), and page 16. 
 
 5. Practice 15 examples (page 55), and drifting exercises (page 59). 
 
 6. Memorize prose or poetry. 
 
 Note. — Continue in this way until you have mastered every table and every 
 exercise, also the entire scientific portion of the Manual. 
 
CONTEN TS. 
 
 TABLES. 
 
 Page 
 
 No. 1 . Orthophony, or Voice - culture 1 
 
 No. 2. Vowel Elements of the English Language 2 
 
 No. 3. Consonant Elements of the English Language .' 4 
 
 -v- . (Vowel Combinations, Diphthongs, etc G 
 
 (Dissyllabic Vowel Combinations G 
 
 No. 5. Vowel Digraphs 7 
 
 No. G. Units of Speech 8 
 
 No. 7. Classification of the Subtonics and Atonies 9 
 
 No. 8. Consonant Combinations 10 
 
 No. 9. Consonant Combinations continued 11. 
 
 No. 10. Vocal Gymnastics^— Force and Pitch 12 
 
 No. 11. Vocal Gymnastics — Stress 13 
 
 No. 1 2. Vocal Gymnastics — Fitch, or Inflection 14 
 
 No. 1 3. Vocal Gymnastics — Pitch and Force combined 15 
 
 No. 14. Accent 16 
 
 No. 15. Words for Practice by contrast 35 
 
 No. 16. List in Substitution of Vowel Sounds 37 
 
 No. 17. List in Omission of Consonant Sounds 39 
 
 No. 1 8. List in Addition of Sounds 40 
 
 No. 19. Words to practice — Contrasts No. 1 and No. 2 41 
 
 No. 20. Words to practice— Contrasts No. 3 and No. 4 42 
 
 No. 21. Words to practice — Contrasts No. 5, No. 6, and No. 7 43 
 
 No. 22. Pronunciation — Rules and Examples 44 
 
 No. 23. Terminations — el and en 45 
 
 No. 24. Reading-class Formula 73 
 
 No. 25. Composition 88 
 
 No. 26. Gesture _. ... 100 
 
 No. 27. Vocal Gymnastics — Orthoepy, Pitch, Force, and Time 114 
 
 No. 28. Orthoepy 116 
 
 No. 29. Elements of Language 130 
 
 No. 30. Pitch 138 
 
 No. 31. Force 154 
 
 No. 32. Time 164 
 
 Examples for Declamatory Gesture 112, 113 
 
VI * CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I.— ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 Hygienic Suggestions: p age 
 
 Food 17 
 
 Clothing 18 
 
 Exercise 18 
 
 Sleep 19 
 
 General Exercises : 
 I. Respiration. 
 
 1. Inspiring 19 
 
 2. Expiring 20 
 
 3. Sighing 20 
 
 4. Gasping 20 
 
 5. Panting 20 
 
 6. Sobbing 20 
 
 II. Intonation. 
 
 1 . Sustaining 20 
 
 2. Counting 21 
 
 3. Repeating 21 
 
 4. Repeating in a Whisper 21 
 
 5. Laughing 21 
 
 6. Intoning with Changes of Force 21 
 
 7. Intoning with Changes of Force and Pitch 21 
 
 Calisthenics : 
 
 I. Positions for Hygienic Exercise * 23 
 
 1. Chest Series 25 
 
 2. Shoulder Series 26 
 
 3. Elbow Series 28 
 
 4. Arm Series. ' . 29 
 
 5. Hand Series 30 
 
 G. Head and Neck Series 31 
 
 7. Trunk Series 31 
 
 II. Direction of Movement 32 
 
 III. Order of Movement 32 
 
 IV. Manner of Movement 33 
 
 V. Time of Movement 33 
 
 Articulation : 
 
 Defects, Causes, and Remedies : 
 
 1. Weak Utterance 34 
 
 2. Thick Utterance 34 
 
 3. Lisping .• 34 
 
 4. Stammering 36 
 
 Enunciation : 
 
 1. Substitution of Sounds in Syllables 37 
 
 2. Omission of Sounds in Syllables. 39 
 
 3. Addition of Sounds in Syllables 40 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Pronunciation : p aga 
 
 Tables for Practice 44 
 
 Rules for Pronunciation 46, 47 
 
 Reading Exercises 55 
 
 PAET II— CLASS METHODS. 
 
 Primary Class Methods 65 
 
 Analytical or Objective Methods 6Q 
 
 Synthetical Methods 68 
 
 Phonic Method.. 70 
 
 Advanced Class Methods 73 
 
 I. Reading-class Formula.. 73 
 
 II. Explanation of the Formula 74 
 
 1. Pronouncing Words 74 
 
 2. Analyzing Words. 74 
 
 3. Phonic Spelling 7.» 
 
 4. Elocution — Facts and Drill 76 
 
 5. Calisthenics, or Gesture 76 
 
 6. Selections 78 
 
 7. Reviews 86 
 
 8. Memorizing Literature. 86 
 
 9. Examination of the Advance Lesson 87 
 
 III. Standard Methods 78 
 
 IV. Occasional Methods 81 
 
 Literary Composition — a Chapter of Rhetoric 89 
 
 PAET III.— GESTURE. 
 
 Feet 101 
 
 Head 102 
 
 Arms .102 
 
 Hands..... ..; ... 102 
 
 How to explain Direction 104 
 
 How to teach Declamatory Gesture 105 
 
 Facial Expression 108 
 
 Twenty-six general Rules and Suggestions 1 09 
 
 Examples for Practice of Declamatory Gesture 112 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART IV.— ELOCUTION. 
 
 Pag* 
 
 Elocution — Vocal Gymnastics 115 
 
 Orthoepy '.. — "... 117 
 
 I. Articulation of Sounds. 
 
 1. Organs of the Chest 118 
 
 Muscles, Diaphragm, Thorax, Pleura, etc. 
 
 2. Organs of the Throat 119 
 
 Larynx, Cartilages, Vocal Chords, etc. 
 
 3. Organs of the Mouth 122 
 
 Eustachian Tubes, Nasal Passages, etc. 
 
 IL Voice 125 
 
 Compass, Volume, Rate 125 
 
 Qualities — Aspirate, Pure, Orotund, etc 126 
 
 III. Elements of Language. 331 
 
 Table of Vowel Sounds 134 
 
 Labials ; 135 
 
 Linguals 136 
 
 Palatals 137 
 
 Pitch: 
 
 Scale, Key 139 
 
 Melody 141 
 
 Inflection ... 142 
 
 Degrees or Intervals of Inflection 1 44 
 
 Rules for Inflection 146 
 
 Series 148 
 
 Sentential Inflections or Cadences 151 
 
 Transition or Modulation 152 
 
 Dynamics or Force : . 
 
 Degrees 1 55 
 
 Stress — Radical, Final, Median, etc 1 58 
 
 Accent — Primary, Secondary 162 
 
 Emphasis 162 
 
 Time: 
 
 Quantity 165 
 
 Rests or Pauses . N 166 
 
 Sentential and Emotional Pauses ] 66 
 
 Rhythmical Pauses 168 
 
 Grammatical Pauses, or Punctuation , 169 
 
CONTENTS. 1*X 
 
 SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. Page 
 
 Johnny's First Snow-storm 1 74 
 
 The Snow Man ... . 175 
 
 Jingle, jingle ! 1 75 
 
 Learning to fly 1 76 
 
 Mind your Steps 1 76 
 
 Hang up the Baby's Stocking 1 77 
 
 Fretting Jennie . 1 78 
 
 Old Hero 179 
 
 The First Snow. . 180 
 
 The Mother-bird 1 80 
 
 What the Flowers wished 181 
 
 Who killed Tom Roper ? 1 82 
 
 Playing School 1 83 
 
 Little Boy's Pocket. 185 
 
 Aunt Mary's Bullfinch 186 
 
 Little Mary's Bouquet 187 
 
 Choice of Trades 189 
 
 Mysteries 192 
 
 Wa t er . . 192 
 
 Tommy's Week 1 9.3 
 
 Heedlessness. 214 
 
 SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 
 
 Columbia's. Union Party.. ..... . 215 
 
 The Tea-kettle's Party 22 1 
 
 The White Giant 223 
 
 In School-days J. G. Whittier. ... 228 
 
 New Gowns . . 229 
 
 Lecture on Heat Louise E. Chollet. 234 
 
 Birds and their Ways ■. 240 
 
 Handy Andy . . . Samuel Lover 243 
 
 School 249 
 
 Second Lecture on Heat Louise E. Chollet. 250 
 
 Life B.F. Taylor 254 
 
 The Guard on the Rhine 256 
 
 A Singing Lesson Jean Ingelow 257 
 
 The Soldier's Reprieve 258 
 
 The Smack in School J. W. Palmer. ... 263 
 
 The Bridal Wine-cup 264 
 
 The Christmas Tree 267 
 
 Barbara Frietchie J.G. Whittier.. . 268 
 
 Death of Little Nell Charles Dickens.. 269 
 
 1* 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 Katie Lee and Willie Gray 271 
 
 Sheridan's Ride T.B. Read. 273 
 
 The Bottle Imp Julia M. Thayer.. 275 
 
 Rules for Life.. . . 282 
 
 German Quotations and Proverbs 282 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 
 POETRY. 
 
 Full of Snow Rev. Joseph Cook 283 
 
 Labor Mrs. Frances S. Osgood. 284 
 
 Gethsemane Mrs. E. Clementine Howarth 285 
 
 A Ballad of Sir John Franklin George II. Boker 280 
 
 The King of Denmark's Ride Mrs. Caroline Norton 289 
 
 Over the River. Miss Priest 290 
 
 Young Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott 292 
 
 The Inquiry. Charles Mackay. 293 
 
 Wounded.. J.W. Watson 294 
 
 We Meet and we Part 296 
 
 Baby Bunn. Josie II. 296 
 
 Drifting T.B. Read 298 
 
 To a Mouse Robert Burns 300 
 
 The Miser's Death Osborne 30L 
 
 Little Bennie. 303 
 
 Ivry. T.B. Macaulay 305 
 
 Auction extraordinary Lucretia Davidson 3( 6 
 
 The Gain of Loss Horatius Bonar 307 
 
 The Fireman R.T. Conrad. 3C9 
 
 The Picket-guard 310 
 
 Jesus' Seat Miss F. Eastwood. 311 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem.. Leigh Hunt 313 
 
 Dora A Ifred Tennyson 313 
 
 The Bugle Song Alfred Tennyson 317 
 
 Little Gretchen , From the German 317 
 
 There's but one Pair of Stockings to mend to-night 319 
 
 The Starless Crown American Tract Society. . . . 321 
 
 Only waiting.. 322 
 
 I'm mustered out 323 
 
 Where does the Water Spring ? 324 
 
 High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire. . .Jean Ingelow 325 
 
 The everlasting Memorial Horatius Bonar 329 
 
 The World would be the better for it M. H. Cobb 330 
 
 Thank God there's still a Vanguard Mrs. II. E. G. Arey 331 
 
 Creeds of the Bells G. W. Bungay . . 332 
 
 Building of the Ship H.W. Longfellow 333 
 
 Evening at the Farm. J.T. Trowbridge 335 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 PftRfl 
 
 The News of a Day Mrs. S. T. Bolton 336 
 
 Borroboola Gha 338 
 
 The Christian Mariner Mrs. Southey 340 
 
 No Sect in Heaven Mrs. Cleveland 341 
 
 John Burns of Gettysburg. Bret Harte 343 
 
 Annie and Willie's Prayer Mrs. S. P. Snow 34G 
 
 The Soul-dirge A. Cleveland Coxe 349 
 
 The Triad A. B. Street 350 
 
 The Bobolink G.H. Barnes 352 
 
 The Ride from Ghent to Aix Robert Browning 354 
 
 The Passions William Collins 355 
 
 The Child and the Sunshine 358 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 Toleration Jeremy Taylor 359 
 
 From the Dodge Club in Italy Tames De Mille 359 
 
 Sam Weller's Valentine Charles Dickens 36 1 
 
 Putting up Stoves 371 
 
 The Power of Habit J.B. Gough. . 373 
 
 Chrysostom's Eloquence 374 
 
 The Twenty-fourth Psalm 375 
 
 Dante and Milton Macaulay 375 
 
 Gabriel Grub Charles Dickens 376 
 
 Patrick O'Rourke and the Frogs G.W. Bungay 386 
 
 A Camp- meeting in Texas 388 
 
 An Irish Letter 391 
 
 Scene from " Richard III." Shakspeare 392 
 
 Scene from " The Siege of Valencia" Mrs. Hemans 393 
 
 Scene from " The Merchant of Venice". . . Shakspeare 397 
 
 Scene from " The Rivals" Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 401 
 
 Quarrel Scene between Brutus and Cassius. Shakspeare 404 
 
 From " School for Scandal" Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 407 
 
 Courtship under Difficulties 413 
 
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MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 4. VOWEL COMBINATIONS.* DIPHTHONGS,t ETC. 
 
 Radical. Vanish. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 No. 
 
 Signs. 
 
 9. 
 
 v a 
 
 10. 
 
 ya 
 
 11. 
 
 ye 
 
 12. 
 
 Vi 
 
 13. 
 
 Vi 
 
 14. 
 
 yo 
 
 15. 
 
 ay 
 
 16. 
 
 V°f 
 
 Radical. Vanish. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 a (ay) 
 
 I 
 
 oi(oy) 
 6y 
 
 ya 
 
 (Ace.) 
 
 -I as in ale, pay. 
 ' ice. 
 old. 
 do. 
 lute, 
 oil, toy. 
 our. 
 
 y 
 
 (Ace.) 
 
 V — 
 y — 
 
 — a 
 — a 
 
 v — 
 
 V — 
 
 — e 
 
 — 1_ 
 
 
 * 
 
 assuage'. 
 
 (Ace.) 
 
 s--a-i 
 
 (Ace.) 
 
 a as in suav'ity. 
 1 gua'no. 
 ques'tion. 
 suite, 
 lan'guid. 
 qnoie. 
 ay! 
 
 buoy.i 
 
 DISSYLLABIC VOWEL COMBINATIONS. 
 
 No. Signs. Radical. Vanish. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 No. Signs. Radical. Vanish. Examples. 
 
 (Acc.) 
 
 ayey 
 aou 
 
 ae 
 aye 
 awi 
 
 ea 
 
 ea 
 
 eJ 
 
 eo 
 
 ett 
 
 eyo 
 IG 
 
 16 
 o'a 
 56 
 
 01 
 
 ewe" 
 ya 
 out 
 
 ewe 
 ua 
 156 
 
 ewt 
 
 ewe" 
 
 as in Ba'al. 
 
 M a'orist. 
 
 M clay'ey. 
 
 11 da'Qurete. 
 
 " aeronaut. 
 
 " aye. 
 
 " saw'ing. 
 
 " re'al. 
 
 " ide'a. 
 
 M de'ity. 
 
 " Le'on. 
 
 " de'fim. 
 
 " fl'at. 
 
 " Messi-ah. 
 
 " pi'ety. 
 
 " fly'ing. 
 
 " ey'6t. 
 
 " I'-owa. 
 
 " Ori'dn. 
 
 41 No'ah. 
 
 " po'6t 
 
 " stS'Tc. 
 
 w sew'er. 
 
 " try'ant. 
 
 11 Lou'is. 
 
 " sew'er. 
 
 M du'&l. 
 
 M du'el. 
 
 " dew'jf. 
 
 M sew'Sr. 
 
 Qui 
 ua 
 ii6 
 iiT 
 oia 
 
 Qa 
 
 n aor'ta. 
 Ao'nian. 
 Borea'lis. 
 real'Ity. 
 fia'cre. 
 Co'lian. 
 eSric. 
 Io'na. 
 expia'tion. 
 galliam'bic. 
 patrjarch'al. 
 furio'so. 
 Joan'na. 
 Gen'oa. 
 Genoese'. 
 Lguise! 
 fluctuation. 
 FliieTen. 
 frui'tion. 
 gyala'cum. 
 impetuosity, 
 duum'vir. 
 
 cre'asote. 
 
 cre'51e. 
 
 Ohi'6. 
 
 o'ases. 
 
 flu'ate. 
 
 da'o. 
 
 ca'Tc (ka'ek). 
 
 rou'et. 
 
 * A union or coalition of vowel or tonic sounds, uttered in one syllable, or by a 
 single impulse of voice. 
 
 t A union of two sounds in one syllable, closely blended, seven of which are 
 accented on the radical. 
 
 t A triphthong is a union of three vowel sounds in one syllable. Uoy is a triph- 
 thong accented on the middle sound. 
 
VRTHOPHONY. 
 
 TABLE NO. 5. VOWEL DIGRAPHS. 11 
 
 No. 
 
 Sign. 
 
 Equivalents and Examples. 
 
 1. 
 
 aa 
 
 a, a, as in l'saac, baa. 
 
 2. 
 
 ae 
 
 a, a, e, e, as in Bael'-nre, Haer'lem, pae'an, faeYy. 
 
 3. 
 
 ai 
 
 a, a, e, 1, 1, as in pail, plaid, said, aisle, cur'tain. 
 
 4. 
 
 ao 
 
 a, a, as in gaol, extraordinary. 
 
 5. 
 
 au 
 
 a, a, 3, o, as in gauge, aunt, haul, haut'-boy (ho-boy). 
 
 6. 
 
 aw 
 
 a, as in bawl. 
 
 7. 
 
 awe 
 
 a, as in awe. 
 
 8. 
 
 ay 
 
 a, e, I, as in pay, says, Friday. 
 
 9. 
 
 ea 
 
 a, a, e, 6, 1, u, as in break, heart, reap, head, guin'ea, earth. 
 
 10. 
 
 eau 
 
 o, u, as in beau, beau'ty. 
 
 11. 
 
 ee 
 
 e, 6, 1, as in seen, e'er, been. 
 
 12. 
 
 ei 
 
 a, e, S, 1, 1, as in eight, ceil, heifer, height, for'felt. 
 
 13. 
 
 eo 
 
 a, e, e, o, u, fi, as in George, peo'ple, leop'ard, yeo'man, feod, surge6n. 
 
 14. 
 
 en 
 
 u, (y)u, q, as in feud, Eu'nice, feu-de-joie' (zhwa). 
 
 15. 
 
 eui 
 
 V, as in feuill-e-marte. 
 
 16. 
 
 ew 
 
 o, u, o, as in sew, few, sewer. 
 
 17. 
 
 ewe 
 
 u, as in ewes. 
 
 18. 
 
 ey 
 
 a, e, I, I, e, as in bey, key, vallejf, ey'ing, fiy'rjf.t 
 
 19. 
 
 eye 
 
 T, as in eye'let. 
 
 20. 
 
 ia 
 
 I, as in car'riage.t 
 
 21. 
 
 ie 
 
 e, e, I, I, as in chief, friend, die, sieve. 
 
 22. 
 
 io 
 
 u, as in re'gifln. 
 
 23. 
 
 ieu 
 
 u, as in lieu. 
 
 24. 
 
 iew 
 
 u, as in view. 
 
 25. 
 
 oa 
 
 a, o, as in broad, boat. 
 
 26. 
 
 oe 
 
 e, 6, 5, o, «, as in Phoebe, assafoe'tida, foe, shoe, d6es. 
 
 27. 
 
 oeu 
 
 o, as in mangeu'vre. 
 
 28. 
 
 oi 
 
 T, u, i, as in boil, avoirdupois, chamois. 
 
 29. 
 
 oo 
 
 o, o, ti, u, as in floor, mgon, fl6od, foot. 
 
 30. 
 
 ou 
 
 a, o, o, g, «, u, as in bought, court, hSugh, grQup, cofip'le, could. 
 
 31. 
 
 ow 
 
 5, 5, as in grow, knowledge. 
 
 32. 
 
 owe 
 
 o, as in Stowe. 
 
 33. 
 
 ua 
 
 a, a, 5, as in guSr'anty, guard, guar'ish. 
 
 34. 
 
 uay 
 
 e, as in quay (ke). 
 
 35. 
 
 ue 
 
 e, 9, u, fi, as in guest, true, due, guerdon. 
 
 36. 
 
 ui 
 
 e, I, i, 9, u, as in inosqui'to, guide, build, fruit, jQice. 
 
 37. 
 
 no 
 
 ti, as in liq'ttor. 
 
 38. 
 
 uy 
 
 I, as in buf. 
 
 39. 
 
 ye 
 
 i, as in rye. 
 
 * A digraph is a union of signs or letters, but not of sounds. 
 
 t Ey, in ey-ry, is, according to Worcester, e, a, T, or 6, properly a. 
 
 t See (equivalents) Table 2, Vowel Elements. 
 
 Note.— Practice all the sounds and examples successively. Example : " Double a 
 is pronounced a, as in Isaac ; a as in baa ; a-e is pronounced fi, as in Bael-flre ; a aa 
 in Haerlem ; e as in pae'an, and S as in faer'y," etc 
 
v 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 
 
 TABLE NO. 6. UNITS OF 
 
 SPE 
 
 ECH.* 
 
 
 No. 
 
 Long Tonics. 
 
 
 No. 
 
 Short Tonics, 
 
 
 i i. 
 
 5 as in eve 
 
 oral-lingual. 
 
 7. 
 
 1 as in it. 
 
 
 2. 
 
 a " ale 
 
 a u 
 
 8. 
 
 S " ell. 
 
 
 3. 
 
 a " arm 
 
 it U 
 
 9. 
 
 S " at. 
 
 
 4. 
 
 a " all 
 
 oral-labial. 
 
 10. 
 
 5 " not. 
 
 
 5. 
 
 o " old 
 
 u u 
 
 11. 
 
 u « up. 
 
 
 6. 
 
 p " do 
 
 u a 
 
 12. 
 
 u " full. 
 
 
 
 Single Sign Diphthongs. t 
 
 
 
 Double Sign Diphthongs, 
 
 
 1. 
 
 r (lie) as in ice (1) 
 
 oral-lingual. 
 
 4. 
 
 61, ojf, as in oil, boy (2) 
 
 
 2. 
 
 u (eo) " lute. 
 
 
 5. 
 
 6u ^Nj^ our. 
 
 
 3. 
 
 j (dzh) " joy. 
 
 
 6. 
 
 7. 
 
 ch(tsh) " church, 
 wh (hw) " when. 
 
 
 
 Snbtonics. 
 
 
 
 Atonies, 
 
 
 
 b as in bulb 
 
 labial. 
 
 1. 
 
 p as in pipe. 
 
 
 2. 
 
 d " did 
 
 lingual. 
 
 2. 
 
 t " tent. 
 
 
 3. 
 
 g " go, gig 
 
 palatal. 
 
 3. 
 
 k " kick. 
 
 
 4. 
 
 v M valve 
 
 labial. 
 
 4. 
 
 f " fife. 
 
 
 5. 
 
 z " zinc 
 
 lingual. 
 
 6. 
 
 s u sense. 
 
 
 6. 
 
 z, zh " azure 
 
 palatal. 
 
 6. 
 
 c, sh " ocean, shall. 
 
 
 7. 
 
 th " this 
 
 lingual. 
 
 7. 
 
 th " thin, kith. 
 
 
 8. 
 
 y " yet 
 
 palatal. 
 
 8. 
 
 h " home (3). 
 
 
 9. 
 
 w " wing 
 
 labial. 
 
 
 ... • 
 
 
 10. 
 
 1 " lull 
 
 lingual. 
 
 
 
 
 11. 
 
 m " man 
 
 labial. 
 
 
 
 
 12. 
 
 n u noon 
 
 lingual. 
 
 
 
 
 13. 
 
 n, ng u ink, song 
 
 palatal. 
 
 
 
 
 14. 
 
 r " war 
 
 lingual. 
 
 
 
 * There are twelve tonic elements or units of speech— six long and six short, four- 
 teen subtonics, and eight atonies. All other sounds whatsoever are more or less 
 closely united combinations of these sounds or elements. 
 
 t There are seven close diphthongs, three having single signs, and four more 
 worthy of single signs. (See Table No. 4, Vowel Combinations.) 
 
 (1) According to Walker and Webster, d^ Russel and Murdoch, dl, and Smart and 
 Vandenhoff, ue. The latter seems decidedly the best. 
 
 (2) According to Worcester and Webster, 0l t and Murdoch and Russel, 81. 
 
 \B) The sound of h can be classed as a lingual, labial, or palatal, since it is simply 
 an emission of breath. 
 
 Note.— Practice this table horizontally, as follows: "e, \ a, 6, etc.," by sound, 
 and not by name; practice perpendicularly 'by sound, as "e, a, a, % o, q, etc.;" 
 practice by pronouncing the words, naming, the eigus, and producing the sounds, as 
 "eve, e; ale, a," etc. 
 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 TABLE NO. 7. CLASSIFICATION OF THE SUBTONICS AND ATONICS. 
 BY THEIR ORGANIC FORMATION— 
 J 1. Labials : ra-an, 6-abe,#-ipe, v-ine,/-ine, w-ine. 
 
 2. Lmguals : n-oon, J-id, £-ent, th-i$, th-in, s-in, 3-inc, r-ill, £ulL 
 
 3. Palatals : ri-ng, £-o, &-ing, sA-all, a-z-ure, A-ome, y-et. 
 
 BY THEIR EMISSION AND FORCE— 
 
 1. (Sonant) sub tonics, b, d, g. 
 
 Abrupts(l) -I 1# v Sonant ) subtonics, b, < 
 ^ ^ ' ( 2. (Surd) atonies, p, t, k. 
 
 ( Liquids (3), r,l. 
 . f 1. (Sonant) subtonics } Nasals (4), m, n, ng. 
 n. Contmu- I ( S e m i. V o W els (5), w, y. 
 
 ^^ 1 2. (Surd) atonies i Aspirate (6) h 
 
 ( Semi-vowel (5), wn. 
 
 -   — w.   
 
 (1) Named " abrupts" because of their explosive emission. 
 
 (2) Named "continuants" because they can be prolonged. 
 
 (3) Called "liquids" because they readily and smoothly unite with other 
 consonants. 
 
 (4) Called " nasals" because the sound is emitted through the nose. 
 
 (5) Called "semi-vowels" because they possess nearly perfect vocality 
 like the vowels. 
 
 (6) Called "aspirate" because it is a breath-found. 
 
 A2 
 
 
 %I 
 
10 
 
 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 
 TABLE NO. 8. 
 
 CONSONANT COMBINATIONS. 
 
 bd 
 
 rob'd. 
 
 id 
 
 goug'd. 
 
 lsk 
 
 Tobolsk. 
 
 bdst 
 
 prob'dst. 
 
 kl 
 
 uncle. 
 
 1st 
 
 call'st. 
 
 bl 
 
 bland. 
 
 kid 
 
 trickl'd. 
 
 lsh 
 
 walsh. 
 
 bid 
 
 humbl'd. 
 
 kldst 
 
 truckl'dst. 
 
 It 
 
 melt. 
 
 bldst 
 
 troubl'dst. 
 
 klst 
 
 chuckl'st. 
 
 1th 
 
 health. 
 
 blst 
 
 troubl'st. 
 
 klz 
 
 wrinkles. 
 
 lths 
 
 stealths. 
 
 biz 
 
 crumbles. 
 
 kn 
 
 blacken. 
 
 Its 
 
 colts. 
 
 br 
 
 brand. 
 
 knd 
 
 reck'n'd. 
 
 ltst 
 
 wilt'st. 
 
 bz 
 
 ribs. 
 
 knst 
 
 black'n'st. 
 
 lv 
 
 delve. 
 
 ch 
 
 church. 
 
 knz 
 
 reckons. 
 
 lvd 
 
 shelved. 
 
 cht 
 
 fetch'd. 
 
 ks 
 
 checks. 
 
 lvdst 
 
 delv'dst 
 
 dj 
 
 edge. 
 
 kt 
 
 act. 
 
 lvz 
 
 elves. 
 
 djd 
 
 hedg'd. 
 
 kts 
 
 facts. 
 
 lz 
 
 halls. 
 
 dl 
 
 bridle. 
 
 ktst 
 
 conduct'st. 
 
 md 
 
 doomed. 
 
 did 
 
 riddl'd. 
 
 kr 
 
 crank. 
 
 mdst 
 
 roam'dst. 
 
 dlst 
 
 handl'st. 
 
 lb 
 
 bulb. 
 
 mf 
 
 triumph. 
 
 dlz 
 
 bundles. 
 
 lbd 
 
 bulb'd. 
 
 mp 
 
 hemp. 
 
 dn 
 
 hard'n. 
 
 lbs 
 
 bulbs. 
 
 mps 
 
 mumps. 
 
 dr 
 
 drove. 
 
 lch 
 
 filch. 
 
 mpst 
 
 pump'st. 
 
 dth 
 
 width. 
 
 lcht 
 
 filch'd. 
 
 mpt 
 
 tempt. 
 
 dths 
 
 breadths. 
 
 Id 
 
 hold. 
 
 mpts 
 
 attempts. 
 
 dz 
 
 odds. 
 
 ldst 
 
 fold'st. 
 
 mst 
 
 entomb'st. 
 
 ft 
 
 flame. 
 
 ldz 
 
 holds 
 
 mz 
 
 tombs. 
 
 fid 
 
 rifl'd. 
 
 If 
 
 self. 
 
 nch 
 
 bunch. 
 
 fist 
 
 sthTst. 
 
 lfs 
 
 gulfs. 
 
 ncht 
 
 pinch'd. 
 
 flz 
 
 rifles. 
 
 1ft 
 
 engulf d. 
 
 nd 
 
 and. 
 
 fr 
 
 from. 
 
 lfth 
 
 twelfth. 
 
 ndst 
 
 end'st. 
 
 fs 
 
 quaffs, laughs. 
 
 lfths 
 
 twelfths. 
 
 ndz 
 
 ends. 
 
 fst 
 
 quaff'st, laugh'st. 
 
 « 
 
 bulge. 
 
 ng 
 
 sung. 
 
 ft 
 
 raft. 
 
 yd 
 
 bilg'd. 
 
 ngd 
 
 bang'd. 
 
 fth 
 
 fifth. 
 
 Ik 
 
 elk. 
 
 ngdst 
 
 long'dst. 
 
 fts 
 
 wafts. 
 
 Iks 
 
 silks. 
 
 ngk 
 
 ink. 
 
 ftst 
 
 grafVst. 
 
 lkt 
 
 milk'd. 
 
 ngks 
 
 banks. 
 
 gd 
 
 begg'd. 
 
 lkts 
 
 mulcts. 
 
 ngkst 
 
 think'st. 
 
 gdst 
 
 bragg'dst. 
 
 lm 
 
 elm. 
 
 ngkt 
 
 thank'd. 
 
 gl 
 
 glide. 
 
 lmd 
 
 whelm'd. 
 
 ngth 
 
 length. 
 
 gld 
 
 struggl'd. 
 
 lmz 
 
 helms. 
 
 ngz 
 
 songs. 
 
 gldst 
 
 haggl'dst. 
 
 In 
 
 fall'n. 
 
 n J 
 
 range. 
 
 gist 
 
 strangl'st. 
 
 lp 
 
 help. 
 
 njd 
 
 ranged. 
 
 glz 
 
 mingles. 
 
 lpt 
 
 gulp'd. 
 
 nk 
 
 sink. 
 
 gr 
 
 grove. 
 
 lps 
 
 scalps. 
 
 nks 
 
 ranks. 
 
 gst 
 
 begg'st. 
 
 lpst 
 
 help'st. 
 
 nkst 
 
 thank'st. | 
 
 gz 
 
 figs. 
 
 Is 
 
 false. 
 
 ns 
 
 dense. 
 
 * This table should be practiced until every combination can be distinctly pro- 
 nounced or articulated by itself, independent of words. Ex. 1. Pronounce the word, 
 and then the combination, as rob'd, bd ; prob'dst, bdst, etc. Ex. 2. Spell the com- 
 bination, and then pronounce it, as b, d, bd ; b, d, s, t, bdst. Ex. 3. Analyze tho 
 words, as bulb, ulb, lb, b ; troubl'dst, roubl'dst, oubl'dst, bl'dst, l'dst, *dst, st, t, etc. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 11 
 
 
 TABLE NO. 
 
 9. CONSONANT COMBINATIONS. 
 
 nst 
 
 canst, winc'd. 
 
 rlz 
 
 hurls. 
 
 spt 
 
 clasped. 
 
 nt 
 
 sent. 
 
 rm 
 
 arm. 
 
 st 
 
 start. 
 
 nth 
 
 tenth. 
 
 rmd 
 
 arm'd. 
 
 str 
 
 strike. 
 
 nths 
 
 tenths. 
 
 rmdsi 
 
 ; harm'dst. 
 
 sts 
 
 rests. 
 
 nts 
 
 rents. 
 
 rmst 
 
 armst. 
 
 sw 
 
 swing. 
 
 ntst 
 
 went'st. 
 
 rmz 
 
 charms. 
 
 th 
 
 thine. 
 
 nz 
 
 runs. 
 
 rn 
 
 urn. 
 
 thd 
 
 breath'd. 
 
 nzd 
 
 bronz'd. 
 
 rnd 
 
 turn'd. 
 
 thdst 
 
 breath'dst. 
 
 Pi 
 
 plume. 
 
 rndst 
 
 earn'dst. 
 
 thm 
 
 rhythm. 
 
 pld 
 
 rippl'd. 
 
 rnst 
 
 learn 'st. 
 
 thr 
 
 three. 
 
 plst 
 
 rippl'st. 
 
 rnt 
 
 burnt. 
 
 ths 
 
 Ruth's. 
 
 plz 
 
 apples. 
 
 rnz 
 
 urns. 
 
 thst 
 
 breath'st. 
 
 pr 
 
 prince. 
 
 rp 
 
 carp. 
 
 tht 
 
 scath'd. 
 
 ps 
 
 sips. 
 
 rps 
 
 harps. 
 
 thw 
 
 thwack. 
 
 pst 
 
 rapp'st. 
 
 rpst 
 
 usurp'st. 
 
 thz 
 
 writhes, paths. 
 
 pt 
 
 ripp'd, rapt. 
 
 rpt 
 
 warp'd. 
 
 tl 
 
 title. 
 
 pts 
 
 Copts. 
 
 rptst 
 
 usurp'dst. 
 
 tld 
 
 settl'd. 
 
 ptst 
 
 shap'dst. 
 
 rs 
 
 verse. 
 
 tldst 
 
 settl'dst. 
 
 rb 
 
 herb. 
 
 rsh 
 
 harsh. 
 
 tlst 
 
 settl'st. 
 
 rch 
 
 search. 
 
 rst 
 
 first. 
 
 tlz 
 
 nettles. 
 
 rcht 
 
 church'd. 
 
 rsts 
 
 bursts. 
 
 tr 
 
 trunk. 
 
 rchtst 
 
 lurch'd'st. 
 
 rt 
 
 dart. 
 
 ts 
 
 fits. 
 
 rchdst 
 
 perch'dst. 
 
 rth 
 
 earth. 
 
 tst 
 
 waftst. 
 
 rbd 
 
 orb'd. 
 
 rtht 
 
 earth'd. 
 
 tw 
 
 twirl. 
 
 rbdst 
 
 barb'dst. 
 
 rths 
 
 births. 
 
 vd 
 
 curv'd. 
 
 rbz 
 
 orbs 
 
 rts 
 
 marts. 
 
 vdst 
 
 liv'dst. 
 
 rd 
 
 hard. 
 
 rtst 
 
 dart'st. 
 
 vl 
 
 driv'l. 
 
 rdst 
 
 heard'st. 
 
 rv 
 
 curve. 
 
 vld 
 
 grovTd. 
 
 rdz 
 
 words. 
 
 rvd 
 
 nerv'd. 
 
 vlclst 
 
 grov'l'dst. 
 
 rf 
 
 turf. 
 
 rvdst 
 
 curv'dst. 
 
 vlst 
 
 drivTst. 
 
 rfs 
 
 turfs. 
 
 rvst 
 
 swerv'st. 
 
 vn 
 
 driv'n. 
 
 rft 
 
 scarf'd. 
 
 rvz 
 
 nerves. 
 
 vst 
 
 liv'st. 
 
 r g 
 
 burg. 
 
 rz 
 
 furs. 
 
 vz 
 
 lives. 
 
 rgst 
 
 urg'st. 
 
 rzd 
 
 furz'd. 
 
 wh 
 
 when. 
 
 rgz 
 
 burgs. 
 
 sh 
 
 hush. 
 
 zd 
 
 mus'd. 
 
 *j 
 
 dirge. 
 
 sht 
 
 hush'd. 
 
 zl 
 
 dazzle. 
 
 rjd 
 
 urg'd. 
 
 sk 
 
 skip, scan. 
 
 zld 
 
 muzzPd. 
 
 ijdst 
 
 urg'dst. 
 
 sks 
 
 basks. 
 
 zldst 
 
 dazzl'dst. 
 
 rk 
 
 ark. 
 
 skst 
 
 ask'st. 
 
 zlst 
 
 dazzl'st. 
 
 rks 
 
 arks. 
 
 skt 
 
 risk'd. 
 
 zlz 
 
 muzzles. 
 
 rkst 
 
 work'st. 
 
 si 
 
 slow. 
 
 zm 
 
 spasm 
 
 rkt 
 
 dirk'd. 
 
 sld 
 
 nestl'd. 
 
 zmz 
 
 chasms. 
 
 rktst 
 
 embark'dst. 
 
 slz 
 
 wrestles. 
 
 zn 
 
 ris'n. 
 
 rl 
 
 girl. 
 
 sm 
 
 smile. 
 
 znd 
 
 reas'n'd. 
 
 rid 
 
 world. 
 
 sn 
 
 snag. 
 
 znz 
 
 prisons. 
 
 rldst 
 
 hurl'dst. 
 
 sp 
 
 sport. 
 
 zndst 
 
 impris'n'dst. 
 
 rlst 
 
 i 
 
 whirl'st. 
 
 sps 
 
 lisps. 
 
 
 
12 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 10. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. FORCE AND PITCH. 
 
 Fig. 1. Variations in Force. 
 
 £••• «6®$ 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 Fig. 3. Variations in Pitch and Force. 
 
 • •• 
 
 Fig. 5. 
 
 Fig. 6. 
 
 ..•' 
 
 '•.. 
 
 Exercises in Smooth Tone, which end suddenly, or die out. 
 
 . Fill the lungs and intone slowly from a heavy voice to a whisper, or " diminuendo" (% °* Fig* *)• 
 . Fill the lungs and intone reversely, or " crescendo" — from light to heavy (last % of Fig. 1). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone " diminuendo" and ** crescendo" (through the entire 1st Fig.). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone " crescendo" and "diminuendo," or " swell" (through the 2d Fig.). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, decreasing in force while ascending the scale (% of Fig. 3). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, increasing in force while descending the scale (last % °f Fig. 3). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, continuing from the decrease to the increase downward (Fig. 3 entire). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, increasing in force while ascending the scale (M of Fig. 4). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, decreasing in force while descending the scale (Fig. 4, last half). 
 . Fill the lungs and intone, continuing from the increase to the decrease (Fig. 4 entire), 
 and 12. Fill the lungs and intone, making a swell midway in ascent and descent (Fig. 5 entire^ 
 . Fill the lungs and intone slowly, decreasing in force to the middle, and increasing in force to tho last 
 
 while ascending the scale (>£ of Fig. 6). 
 . Decrease in force to the middle, and increase to the last in descending the scale Oast % of Fig. 6). 
 . Change hy taking each of the pure vowel sounds and consonant continuants, and by assuming torn* of th* 
 
 qualities of voice. 
 . Apply sentences to tb« figures. Example : 
 
 " Then fear not, doubt not, which thou wilt ; 
 We'll try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 J* 
 
 TABLE NO. 11. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. STRESS. 
 Fig. 1. Radical Stress. 
 
 > > 
 
 Fig. 2. Final Stress. 
 
 < < 
 
 Fig. 3. Median Stress. 
 
 O O   
 
 Fig. 4. Compound Stress. 
 
 XXX 
 
 Fig. 5. Intermittent Stress. 
 
 ooooa 
 
 )ooooa xxxxxx m 
 
 This table is devoted exclusively to stress. 
 
 To practice Fig. 1. Begin heavily, and end lightly upon one note. A smooth 
 diminuendo. 
 
 Fig. 2. Begin in a whisper and end heavily. A smooth crescendo. 
 
 Fig. 3. Begin and end lightly, with a full, heavy sound in the middle of the note. 
 A smooth swell. 
 
 Fig. 4. Begin and end heavily, diminishing to a whisper in the middle of the 
 note. 
 
 Fig. 5. Produce a note in a tremulous tone, such as represents sorrow, age, etc 
 
 No. 6. Thorough or Staccato Stress is not represented, but should be practiced by 
 xepeating each sound abruptly four times. 
 
 Take successive vowel sounds for this practice, and be careful not to vary Vw 
 pitch. 
 
14 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 12. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. PITCH, OR INFLECTION. 
 NOTES REPRESENTED BY LINES. 
 
 A Half Tone. A Wholt Tone. 
 
 Fig. 1. 
 
 A Third. 
 
 A Fifth. 
 
 ^N S\ /\ 
 
 si, do, do, si. do, ra, ra, do. do, mi, mi, do. do, sol, sol, do. do, do, do, da 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 i si, do, si. do, ra, do. do, mi, do. do, sol, do. do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 do, si, do. ra, do, ra. mi, do, mi. sol, do, sol. do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 4. 
 
 no r\j 
 
 si. do, si, do. do, ra, do, ra. do, mi, do, mi. do, sol, do, sol. do, do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 5. 
 
 — > ^ <s> on un 
 
 do, 6i, do, si. ra, do, ra, do. mi, do, mi, do. sol, do, sol, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 This table is devoted exclusively to pitch, and is designed to educate the ear to 
 distinguish kinds and degrees of inflection. 
 
 To practice Fig. 1. First produce the given notes of the scale with syllables, 
 si, do, do, si, etc. When this can be done, substitute a vowel sound for the syl- 
 lables, and produce a smooth, even rise and fall of the voice, to correspond in 
 degree with the notes or characters in the figure. Do not increase nor decrease in 
 volume, and avoid dragging the sound from one character to another. 
 
 Practice the remaining figures in the same way, observing to continue the sound 
 to the end of each character in the figures, and no farther. In Fig. 1, two notes are 
 united in each character ; in Figs. 2 and 3, three notes ; in Figs. 4 and 5, four notes 
 are smoothly connected. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 15 
 
 TABLE NO. 13. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. PITCH AND FORCE COMBINED. 
 
 Fi£.l. 
 
 ^> ^V /\ 
 
 n, do, do, si. do, ra.ra, do. do, mi, mi, do. do, so?, so?, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 «t,do,do,s». do, ba, ea, do. do, mi, mi, do. do, sol, sol, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 •i, do, do, si. do, ha, ra, do. do, mi, mi, do. do, sol, so?, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 4. 
 
 •v </v 
 
 si, do, do, «». do, ra, ba, do. do, wit, mi, do. do, sol, sol, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 Fig. 5. 
 
 si, do, do, si. do, ra, ra, do. do, mi, mi, do. do, sol, sol, do. do, do, do, do. 
 
 This table combines stress and inflection for practice. 
 
 To practice Fig. 1. Sound the syllables, accenting the first and last in each gronp, 
 as indicated by the capitals and small letters. When this can be readily done, use 
 a single vowel sound instead of the syllables. 
 
 Practice the remaining figures in the same manner, applying various vowel sounds 
 to keep up an interest in the exercise. 
 
 Fig. 5 can be rendered more easily by using a single sound at the outset. 
 
16 
 
 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 14. ACCENT. 
 
 To learn accent, practice the following Table of Accented 
 and Unaccented Sounds. The table may be written on the 
 blackboard, and the class exercised in concert, the leader 
 pointing to the groups of sound in the order and time re- 
 quired. 
 
 DISSYLLABLES. 
 
 tV 
 
 a 
 
 B 
 
 a' 
 
 a' 
 
 K 
 
 g 
 
 |' 
 
 &' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 r 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 B' 
 
 5 
 
 e 
 
 & 
 
 V 
 
 B 
 
 8 
 
 S' 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 f 
 
 I' 
 
 t 
 
 l 
 
 l 
 
 « 
 
 o' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o' 
 
 5' 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 5' 
 
 o' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o' 
 
 u' 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 u" 
 
 ii 
 
 ii 
 
 W 
 
 u' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 U' 
 
 TRISYLLABLES. 
 
 r 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 S' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 7 
 
 &' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 »' 
 
 & 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 e' 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 6' 
 
 5 / 
 
 S 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 8' 
 
 B 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 6' 
 
 r 
 
 T 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 I' 
 
 r 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 \ 
 
 r 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 # 
 
 5 
 
 o 
 
 6 
 
 o' 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o' 
 
 6' 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 5' 
 
 5 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 5' 
 
 o' 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o' 
 
 CL' 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
 a' 
 
 tl 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 lY 
 
 tt 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 ii 
 
 u 
 
 ii 
 
 ii' 
 
 n' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 POLYSYLLABLES. 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 r 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a r 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a a' 
 
 a / 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 ft' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a a' 
 
 S' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 ii' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a a' 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a' 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a a/ 
 
 # 
 
 e 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 r 
 
 e 
 
 e 
 
 e 
 
 5 
 
 B' 
 
 <3 
 
 8 
 
 e 
 
 e e' 
 
 r 
 
 5 
 
 8 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 fr 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 8' 
 
 8 
 
 S 
 
 6 
 
 8 8' 
 
 r 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 T' 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 r 
 
 i / 
 
 r 
 
 T 
 
 I 
 
 r r 
 
 r 
 
 1 
 
 X 
 
 l 
 
 l 
 
 f 
 
 l 
 
 l 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 Jf 
 
 l 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 l r 
 
 D' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 5 
 
 o 
 
 6' 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 5 
 
 5' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 5' 
 
 5' 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 o' 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 6' 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 5 5' 
 
 Q' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 2' 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 S' 
 
 o 
 
 p 
 
 
 
 O Q' 
 
 V 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 ti 
 
 ii' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 u 
 
 Tr 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 ti 
 
 ti ti' 
 
 u' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 ii 
 
 ii 
 
 ft' 
 
 ii 
 
 u 
 
 ii 
 
 ii 
 
 u' 
 
 ii 
 
 ii 
 
 u 
 
 ii ii' 
 
 u / 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u' 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u u' 
 
MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 Orthophony is systematic voice-training. 
 
 I. HYGIENIC SUGGESTIONS. 
 To attain the highest voice capacity requires health and 
 practice. To insure or perpetuate health, we must have — 
 1st. Plain food, regularly taken. 
 2d. Comfortable clothing, warm, light, and loose. 
 3d. Exercise and pure air. 
 4th. Plenty of sleep. 
 
 FOOD. 
 
 The most wholesome diet for pupils in voice-training, am? 
 ateur and professional voice artists, excludes all greasy food, 
 soups, pork in any form, nuts, rich food, as suet or plum 
 puddings, fruit-cake, mince pie, pickles, lobster, hot breads, 
 candy, and all other food that causes indigestion and fever- 
 ishness, together with all stimulating drinks, including strong 
 tea and coffee. 
 
 To guard against the imputation of having excluded ev- 
 ery thing palatable, a list of dishes, both pleasant and harm- 
 less, is added. Fish, fowl, rare-boiled or poached eggs, tripe, 
 rare -roasted or broiled beef, cold breads, toast, crackers, 
 wheat grits, oatmeal mush and cakes, plain puddings and 
 pies, fruit, cold water, milk or weak tea. No food should be 
 taken between meals or late at night. Persons using the 
 voice professionally take no food for at least one hour be- 
 fore using the voice, and oftener two or three hours inter- 
 
18 ,! ; ' 'MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 vene between dinner and the concert or lecture. But one 
 exception has been given among distinguished singers, and 
 that is Adelaide Patti, who is said to dine between the acts 
 of the opera. Parepa, whose voice is not only wonderful for 
 its power, but for its clearness, dines four hours before con- 
 cert, taking a light lunch, if needful, just before singing, but 
 nothing afterward, and avoids all voice-smoothers, such as 
 lozenges, lemon, sugar, etc. To avoid a sensation of hunger 
 or faintness, a little toast and weak tea, or, what is better, 
 a raw egg, may be taken just before using the voice. 
 
 CLOTHING. 
 
 The clothing should be at all times sufficiently warm for 
 the climate and season. Light, so as to give ease and 
 warmth without weight, and loose in those much-abused 
 parts of the body, viz., the throat, waist, and feet. One 
 thickness of flannel should cover the chest, to avoid the 
 chill of damp cotton or linen garments after exercise. The 
 weight of clothing should rest, as much as possible, upon 
 the shoulders, by means of bands or suspenders, and the feet 
 should be kept at all times dry and warm. 
 
 EXERCISE AND PURE AIR. 
 
 Fresh air should be plentiful at all times by means of ven- 
 tilators, windows, and doors; and this should be not only in 
 halls and churches, but in all business places, school-rooms, 
 and sleeping apartments. This note may seem unnecessary 
 in a teacher's manual; but so little thought is given the 
 subject elsewhere, we would have the children thoroughly 
 taught the necessity as w r ell as comfort of pure air. When 
 about to practice calisthenics or gesture, it is safe to have 
 windows and doors open; but when warm and resting, they 
 should be closed, and all drafts avoided. Upon going into 
 cold or damp air after using the voice, as in reading, lec- 
 turing, or singing, the lungs and mouth should be carefully 
 protected, the process of breathing carried on through the 
 nostrils or a thickness of flannel. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. * 19 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 Let no one think sleep unworthy of consideration, for it 
 is a cosmetic, a tonic, and an indispensable voice-agent. No 
 stimulants, lotions, or cordials can give that vigor to the vo- 
 cal organs ; no cosmetics can give that freshness of feeling 
 and appearance that perfect rest and sleep give. Children 
 will waken when fully rested, and it is nothing less than 
 cruelty to waken and force them to rise. They should be 
 sent to bed earlier, that they may have the needed amount 
 of rest. 
 
 Besides health, voice-culture requires continued systemat- 
 ic exercise or practice in respiration, intonation, and calis- 
 thenics, or gesture. These exercises bring into action all of 
 the muscles of the chest and throat, head and mouth. Ex- 
 ercises in breathing, by noting the number of seconds re- 
 quired to fill the lungs by slow inhalation, and the seconds 
 required to empty them by slow exhalation, together with 
 exercises in intoning, noting the number of seconds that a 
 full smooth tone can be produced, and how many syllables 
 can be uttered without a fresh supply of breath, have been 
 found very beneficial to the respiratory and vocal organs. 
 These exercises give the power and ability to produce many 
 words "with a small supply of breath or voice-material, thus 
 enabling a speaker to render long passages of composition 
 smoothly and effectively — passages that would lose half 
 their force by an interruption for breath. The general or 
 primary position for exercises in breathing and intoning is 
 the military or gymnasium position (see page 24), and the 
 special position No. 1, page 25, i. e., the hands upon the sides, 
 so that the finger-tips may touch in the back, thumbs point 
 front, elbows back, and chin curbed. 
 
 II. GENERAL EXERCISES. 
 RESPIRATION. 
 
 1. Inspiring. The lungs must first be emptied in order 
 to ascertain how long it takes to fill them; hence, begin 
 this exercise by expelling the air from the lungs, making a 
 continuous hissing sound ; when the sound ceases the air in 
 
20 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 the lungs is sufficiently exhausted. Now inspire very slow- 
 ly, making a slight noise, until the lungs are filled, noting 
 the time in seconds. 
 
 2. Expiring. Assume the required military and special 
 position. Place the upper teeth upon the lower lip, as if to 
 say v ; inspire slowly until no more air can be inhaled; then, 
 with the tongue near the teeth, as if to give the sound of s, 
 emit the breath as slowly as possible, making an even and 
 continuous hissing sound, so that there can be no mistake 
 whether the breath is constantly escaping or being held at 
 intervals. 
 
 a. Effusive. Inspire and emit the breath freely, as in 
 the prolonged sound of the aspirate h. 
 
 b. Expulsive. Inspire and emit the breath more quick- 
 ly and forcibly than in the effusive, with the sound of 
 the aspirate h. 
 
 c. Explosive. Inspire and expel the breath suddenly 
 and violently, making the sound of h like a whisper- 
 ed cough. (Combine this exercise with the thrust 
 movements in calisthenics.) 
 
 3. Sighing. Combined inspiration and expiration emo- 
 tionally. 
 
 a. Inspire and expire suddenly. 
 
 b. Inspire and expire moderately. 
 
 c. Inspire moderately and expire suddenly. 
 
 d. Inspire suddenly and expire moderately. 
 
 4. Gasping. Convulsive inspiration and gradual expira- 
 tion. 
 
 5. Panting. Rapid and forcible inspiration and expira- 
 tion several times in succession. 
 
 6. Sobbing is sighing or gasping made slightly vocal. 
 
 intonation. 
 Intoning Exercises without change of Force or Pitch. 
 1. Prolonging a Note or Sound. Fill the lungs, and 
 note the number of seconds that one sound can be smoothly 
 prolonged. The sound may be one of the vowels or conso- 
 nant continuants.* 
 
 * See Table of Sounds, No. 2. The sound may be concrete or smoothlj 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 21 
 
 2. Counting. Inspire as before, and note the number 
 that can be counted at one expiration. 
 
 3. Repeating aloud a Line, Couplet, or Stanza. In- 
 spire and note the number of times that one line, couplet, 
 or stanza can be repeated at one expiration. The selec- 
 tion for this exercise should consist mostly of monosylla- 
 bles. 
 
 4. Repeating in a Whisper a Line, Couplet, or Stanza. 
 This exercise is more difficult than No. 3, in that the repeti- 
 tion is made in a whisper, but it is considered very beneficial 
 in strengthening the lungs. 
 
 5. Laughing. Fill the lungs, and laugh in a forcible ex- 
 pulsive manner. This exercise strengthens the abdominal 
 muscles more than any other. A great variety of laughing 
 exercises can be produced t>y placing h before the different 
 vowel sounds. Ha, ha, ha ; ha, ha, ha ; ha, ha, ha ; ha, ha, 
 ha ; he, he, he ; he, he, he ; hi, hi, hi ; hi, hi, hi ; ho, ho, ho ; 
 ho, ho, ho ; ho, ho, ho ; hu, hu, hu ; hii, hu, hu. 
 
 Intoning Exercises with changes of Force. 
 
 6. Prolong a note or sound, or repeat a sentence. 
 
 a. Increasing in force to the end. 
 
 b. Decreasing in force to the end. 
 
 c. Increasing to the middle, and decreasing to the end. 
 
 d. Decreasing to the middle, and increasing to the end. 
 
 Intoning Exercises with changes of Force and Pitch. 
 
 7. Prolong a note or sound, or repeat a sentence. 
 
 a. Increasing in force while ascending the scale. 
 
 b. Increasing in force while descending the scale. 
 
 c. Decreasing in force while ascending the scale. 
 
 d. Decreasing in force while descending the scale. 
 
 e. Increasing in force to the middle, and decreasing to 
 the last while ascending the scale. 
 
 /. Decreasing in force to the middle, and increasing to 
 the last while ascending the scale. 
 
 connected, as 6 continued ; discrete or disconnected, as fa, fa, fa, etc. An- 
 other change may be produced by making the sound intermittent or in tre- 
 mor ; and again, by assuming different qualities of voice. 
 
22 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 g. Increasing in force to the middle, and decreasing to 
 
 the last while descending the scale. 
 h. Decreasing in force to the middle, and increasing to 
 the last while descending the scale. 
 These exercises may be varied by changes in quality of 
 voice, and by tremor, or tremulous voice. 
 
 At this time the vowel and consonant sounds should be 
 thoroughly learned, and their combinations practiced, until 
 a word or succession of words can be pronounced without 
 difficulty. The tables for this drill are Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 
 9, 10, and 11, and the tables in Orthophony called "Con- 
 trast Exercises" for imperfect pronunciation. 
 
 To overcome the habit of speaking and reading with the 
 teeth closed, or nearly closed, practice the vowel sounds 
 with a stick or finger between the teeth. Increase the 
 thickness of the stick until the distance between the teeth 
 is satisfactory. 
 
 Again, repeat a sentence, and insert two fingers between 
 the teeth at every syllable. 
 
OKTHOPHONY. 23 
 
 CALISTHENICS. 
 
 Calisthenics, from two Greek words, signifying beauti- 
 ful and strength, is distinguished from gymnastics by quick, 
 light movements, without apparatus or mechanical aid, pro- 
 ducing grace and symmetry. Gymnastics may be graceful, 
 brisk, and slight, but are generally understood to mean ath- 
 letic strength in attitudinizing, lifting, swinging, climbing, 
 requiring slow time and heavy work. Dio Lewis calls his 
 later and improved exercises "Light or Free Gymnastics" 
 to distinguish them from the older and partially discarded 
 heavy gymnastics ; wooden bells, wands, rings, and clubs 
 taking the place of iron bells, weights, etc. But light gym- 
 nastics are not as easily adapted to the school-room as calis- 
 thenics, which require no apparatus, and can be abandoned 
 and resumed at pleasure. Such exercises only as are best 
 calculated to aid and improve the voice will be inserted in 
 these pages. These will include a series of movements for 
 the chest, shoulder, arm, hand, head, neck, and trunk. 
 
 The calisthenics in this volume are for those who have no 
 system learned, and not to supersede those producing the 
 same results. 
 
 MOVEMENT.* 
 Movement includes all the requirements of action from 
 the beginning to the end of an exercise. 1st, Position; 2d, 
 Direction; 3d, Order; 4th, Manner; 5th, Time. 
 
 I. POSITION FOR HYGIENIC EXEECISE. 
 
 There are two general or primary positions, termed mili- 
 tary or gymnasium, and rostrum, and an indefinite number 
 of special positions, indicating the series of movements or 
 exercises which are to follow. 
 
 * Much of the benefit arising from calisthenics is derived from the alter- 
 nation of rigid and relaxed muscles. There should be an accent to the mo- 
 tion, and that accent should occur at the climax of the outward movement ; 
 hence the muscles should be firm in the outward movement, and relaxed in 
 the return. 
 
24 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 General Positions. 
 
 1. The military, or gymnasium position, is to place the 
 heels together, toes out, and hands at the side ; the ear, 
 
 shoulder, hip, knee, and ankle appearing to be 
 in a perpendicular line, and the weight equal 
 on both feet. 
 
 Full Description of the Military Position. 
 
 a. Heels together, or an inch apart. 
 
 b. Feet at right angles. 
 
 c. Knees together. 
 
 d. Body and head upright. 
 
 e. Shoulders back. 
 
 f. Eyes front. 
 
 g. Arms at the side. 
 h. Palms in, and thumbs front.* 
 i. Mouth closed (except in vocal exercise). 
 
 2. The rostrum position is an easy, upright speaking po* 
 sition, with one foot advanced, and the 
 weight of the body principally upon the 
 foot in the rear. 
 
 Full Description of the Rostrum Position. 
 
 a. Body erect and easy. 
 
 b. One foot three or four inches in ad- 
 vance of the other. 
 
 c. Toes turned out in an angle of about 
 45 degrees. 
 
 d. Arms at rest at the side. 
 
 e. Heel of the foot in advance, in a line 
 with the heel of the other. 
 
 f. Hands relaxed and natural (as they 
 would hang at the side). 
 
 3. The reading position is similar to the rostrum, save that 
 the book should be held in the left hand, high enough to keep 
 
 * This position is sometimes given with the palms front and thumbs out. 
 (See Figure.) 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 25 
 
 the head from drooping, yet not so high as to hide the face 
 of the reader from the audience. 
 
 Special Positions and Movements. (See Table No. 1.) 
 The special positions are always taken at the commence- 
 ment and between the movements of a series. The military 
 always precedes the special position, unless otherwise stated. 
 
 I. CHEST SERIES. 
 
 1. Percussing* — Position: hands upon sides, so that the 
 fingers may touch in the back ; thumbs pointing front, with 
 the elbows pressed back, and the chin curbed ; action : fill 
 the lungs, and, with open hands, pat the chest rapidly and 
 gently from the neck to the girdle ; increase the intensity 
 of action when no inconvenience is felt therefrom, but ?iever 
 bruise the flesh. 
 
 2. Single Thrusting from the Arm-pit.\ — Position : fists 
 upon the chest, near the arm-pit, in front ; elbows elevated 
 and pressed back ; wrists bent inward ; direction, the twelve 
 points : three front, three oblique,, three extended, and three 
 backward ; order, single ; manner, direct. (See Table No. 1 .) 
 
 * Percussing distributes the air to the remote portions of the lungs that 
 are less often inflated, and strengthens them. 
 
 t All the thrust exercises widen the chest in front, and make the back 
 straight and narrow. 
 
 B 
 
26 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 3. Double Thrusting from the Arm-pit* — Position as in 
 "No. 2 ; direction, contrasting, up and down, or right and 
 left; order, double; manner, direct; action: 1st, descending 
 and ascending front, alternating four times with both fists ; 
 2d, descending extended to the right, and the same to the 
 left, four times alternately ; 3d, horizontal extended to the 
 right twice, the same to the left, and four times alternately ; 
 4th, ascending extended to the right twice, and the same to 
 the left, and four times alternately. 
 
 4. Thrusting from the Chest centre. — Position : fists on the 
 chest, backs front, knuckles touching ; elbows horizontal 
 with the shoulders ; direction, the twelve points ; order, sin- 
 gle ; manner, direct. 
 
 5. Thrusting from the Sides* — Position: elbows back; 
 fore-arm and fists parallel upon the sides, and horizontal ; 
 direction, three points front ; order, single ; manner, direct. 
 
 6. Thrusting from the Hips. — Position: fists upon the back 
 of the hips, near the girdle, palms in, thumbs closed, and el- 
 bows pressed backward; direction, backward ; order, single; 
 manner, direct. 
 
 II. SHOULDER SEEIES. 
 
 1. Extending the Arms from the Arm-pit. — Position: el- 
 bows horizontal with the shoulders, thumbs and fingers 
 joined, and drawn up under the arms \ direction, extended 
 * Inspire at the return, and expire at the outward movements. 
 
OKTHOPHONY. 
 
 27 
 
 (descending and horizontal) ; order, single ; manner, direct ; 
 action : 1 st, bring the arms from the special position direct- 
 ly down in the single order, i. e. right hand twice, left hand 
 twice, alternately twice, and simultaneously twice ; 2d, bring 
 the arms from the special position to the horizontal extend- 
 ed in single order. r , A 
 
 2. Extending the Arms from the Shoulder top. — Position : 
 fingers rest upon the top of the shoulder near the joint, 
 thumbs back, elbows extended horizontally from the shoul- 
 ders ; direction, extended (three points) ; order, single ; man- 
 ner, direct ; action : bring the arms from the special posi- 
 tion, 1st, to the descending extended; 2d, to the horizontal; 
 3d, to the ascending extended in the usual single order. (See 
 No. 1 of this series.) 
 
 3. Shoulder Lifting. — Position, military ; arms relaxed ; 
 direction, upward ; order, single ; manner, direct ; action : 
 raise the right shoulder twice, the left twice, alternate twice, 
 and twice simultaneously. 
 
 4. Rotary Movement? — Position and order as in No. 3 ; 
 manner, rotary ; action : bring the right shoulder forward, 
 upward, backward, downward twice, twice with the left, 
 
 * To teach quickly, let the pupils count four ; at one, bring shoulder for- 
 ward ; two, upward ; three, backward ; four, downward. It is a good ex- 
 ercise for removing a stoop or round of the shoulders, as indeed are all 
 the chest and shoulder exercises, with No. 4 of the Elbow Series, and No. 7 
 of the Arm Series. 
 
28 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 ^dZI 
 
 etc. Let the arms be loose, and swing as they may, dur* 
 ing this exercise. 
 
 5. Swinging the Arms horizontally backward. — Position : 
 the palms together, horizontal front ; direction, backward ; 
 order, double ; manner, direct ; action : swing the arms back- 
 ward and forward eight or sixteen times. 
 
 III. ELBOW SERIES. 
 
 1. Hands clasped and upon the Head. — Position: hands 
 clasped and placed upon the head, palms down, and elbows 
 extended at the side; direction, upward, etc.; order, double; 
 
 manner, direct ; action : 1st, raise the hands above the head 
 without unclasping four times ; 2d, upon the back of the 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 29 
 
 neck, and back to the top of the head four times ; 3d, upon 
 the chest in front and back four times ; 4th, alternate from 
 the back to the crown, and from the front to. the crown four 
 times, and finally from front to back four times without 
 stopping at the top of the head. 
 
 2. Throwing back the Elbows* — Position : hands upon 
 the hips, thumbs back ; action : press the elbows as far back 
 as possible, returning each time to the extended. Repeat 
 this exercise four or eight times. 
 
 IV. ARM SERIES. 
 
 fc 1. Stringing the Arms backward* — Position : palms to- 
 gether, horizontal front ; action : swing the hands down to 
 the side, and back as far as possible. 
 
 2. Swinging the Arms upward.\ — Position like No. 1 ; ac- 
 tion : swing the arms from the horizontal front up to the 
 perpendicular and back four or eight times. 
 
 3. Swinging the Arms outward and xipward.\ — Position, 
 military; action: swing the arms through the line called 
 extended to the perpendicular. 
 
 4. Twisting the Arms. — Position, arms horizontal front; 
 
 * Take full breath at the relaxation of muscle, and breathe out suddenly 
 at the backward movement. 
 
 t Let these exercises be done in regular order ; right arm twice, left 
 twice, alternate twice, and simultaneous twice. 
 
30 
 
 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 order, double ; action : twist the arms by turning the hands 
 over and back eight times; change position to perpendicular, 
 and repeat ; change to the horizontal, and repeat. 
 
 5. Chopping. — Position, hands raised above the head to 
 the right ; direction, descending to the left in front ; order, 
 double; action, like chopping, eight times; reverse, and chop 
 upward to the left. 
 
 6, Mowing. — Position, arms to the right (see Figure) ; di- 
 rection, horizontal to the left ; order, double ; manner, di- 
 rect ; action as if mowing on level ground ; reverse, and 
 move as if mowing up hill. 
 
 7. Sawing* — Position: body bent to the right, elbow 
 above the line of the shoulders, and hands closed; direction, 
 downward; order, double.; manner, direct ; action, moving 
 both hands up and down as if sawing. 
 
 V. HAND SERIES. 
 
 Opening and shutting the Hands. Position : arms at the 
 side, hands closed ; action : open and close the hands four 
 times ; arms to horizontal extended ; open and close the 
 hands four times; perpendicular and repeat; to the hori- 
 zontal front and repeat. 
 
 * The sawing exercise is excellent for enlarging the chest and increasing 
 the strength of the muscles. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 31 
 
 VI. HEAD AND NECK SERIES. 
 
 1. Turning the Head. — Position, military; action: turn the 
 head horizontally to the right, so that the face will be over 
 the right shoulder, and back to the front twice, to the left 
 twice, alternate right and left twice, stopping in front each 
 time. 
 
 2. Bowing. — Position, military ; direction, up and down ; 
 action : 1. look down to the point descending front, and then 
 horizontal front four times ; 2. look up to the point ascending 
 front, then horizontal four times ; 3. look alternately down 
 and front, up and front four times ; 4. look down and up four 
 times without stopping in front. (This may be repeated, 
 letting the head fall to the right and left instead of front.) 
 
 3. Looking up to right and left. — Position, military ; di- 
 rection, ascending oblique and descending front; action: 1. 
 look up to the point ascending oblique, and down in front 
 four times ; 2. the same to the left ; 3. alternate right and 
 left four times, stopping each time to look down. 
 
 4. Rotary or Rolling Movement. — Position, military ; man- 
 ner, rotary ; action : bow the head front, and, letting it help- 
 lessly fall, move it horizontally in a circle upon the shoul- 
 ders. Repeat the circle four times. 
 
 VII. TRUNK SERIES. 
 
 1. Bending the Body forward and baclcicard. — Position, 
 military; action: 1. bend the body horizontally front, and re- 
 sume the perpendicular four times; 2. bend backward, and 
 resume the perpendicular four times ; 3. alternate forward 
 and backward, stopping each time at the perpendicular four 
 times ; 4. bend forward, then backward four times without 
 stopping at the perpendicular. 
 
 2. Betiding the Body to the right and left. — This is like 
 No. 1, except in direction, which is right and left instead of 
 forward and back. 
 
 3. Rotary, or Body rolling. — Position, military ; action : 
 bend the body horizontally front, and, relaxing the muscles, 
 move it to the right, back, left, and around to the front again 
 in a kind of circle ; repeat four times. 
 
32 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 II. DIRECTION OF MOVEMENT. 
 
 Direction is the line or course in which any thing moves. 
 In calisthenics or gesture, direction is the course which the 
 arm, hand, etc., takes with regard to the body, and is named 
 both from the side of the person where it ends, and from the 
 degree of elevation which this ending or climax attains. 
 
 All gestures made before one are called "front;" those 
 made directly to the right or left are called "extended;" 
 those made between the "front" and " extended?'* are called 
 " oblique ;" and, lastly, those made back of the extended are 
 called " back-oblique" or " backward" With regard to the 
 elevation, all gestures or motions whose climax or ending 
 is on a horizontal line with the shoulders, are called hori- 
 zontal ; all that have their climax or ending below the hori- 
 zontal are called descending ; and all above the horizontal 
 are called ascending. 
 
 Hence we have twelve different points of direction : 
 
 I. 1. Descending front. III. 1. Descending extended. 
 
 2. Horizontal front. 2. Horizontal extended. 
 
 3. Ascending front. 3. Ascending extended. 
 II. 1. Descending oblique. IV. 1. Descending backward. 
 
 2. Horizontal oblique. 2. Horizontal backward. 
 
 3. Ascending oblique. 3. Ascending backward. 
 
 III. ORDER OF MOVEMENT. 
 
 By order of movement is meant the successive order in 
 which the right or left hand, arm, etc., are used in action. 
 For convenience, Order has been given as No. 1 /Single, and 
 No. 2 Double. 
 
 Single order is when the motions are made first with the 
 right arm or hand ; then with the left, each a certain num- 
 ber of times ; second, alternate with the right and left a cor- 
 responding number of times ; and third, a simultaneous ac- 
 tion of the right and left the same number of times. Ex- 
 ample : thrusting with the right hand twice, with the left 
 twice, alternate twice, and simultaneous twice. 
 
 Double order is made with the hands simultaneously, 
 changing only the directions during the exercises; i. e., make 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 33 
 
 a certain number of motions in some one direction with both 
 hands, then in another direction with both hands, thus con- 
 tinuing until the exercise is completed. Example : thrust 
 both hands down front twice, up front twice, alternate up 
 and down twice ; then twice to the right, twice to the left ; 
 then alternate right and left twice. 
 
 IV. MANNER OF MOVEMENT. 
 
 The manner of movement in calisthenics or gesture may- 
 be direct ovrotary : direct, when the point of direction in 
 the climax is attained in a straight or direct line, and rotary 
 when by a roundabout or rotary motion. 
 
 V. TIME OF MOVEMENT. 
 
 In these exercises there should be a regularly recurring 
 accent of motion or rhythm. The outward motion in many 
 exercises will most naturally receive the accent, and can be 
 timed in various ways : by counting in quadruple time, by 
 tapping with pointer or cane, or by music itself in quadru- 
 ple time. If counting is preferred, and a class is to practice, 
 let all count, accenting the odd numbers to eight, or, sub- 
 stituting and for the unaccented part, count four ; thus, one 
 and, two and, three and, four and ; again, one and, etc., 
 over and over again until the exercise is finished. 
 
 B2 
 
34 MANUAL OP READING. » 
 
 AKTICULATIOK 
 
 The principal defects of articulation consist of a uniform- 
 ly weak or thick utterance, lisping and stammering. 
 
 1. A weak manner of speech may arise from ill health or 
 lassitude, from diffidence or embarrassment, from indolence 
 or affectation. In cases of weakness, health must be im- 
 proved before any great change can be made in the voice 
 power. Such exercise in respiration, intonation, and calis- 
 thenics as can be borne from day to day, will greatly aid in 
 regaining strength if the weakness is chiefly in the lungs. 
 Indeed, tendencies toward consumption have, in many in- 
 stances, been overcome by judicious vocal training. 
 
 If weakness of utterance arises from diffidence, let no op- 
 portunity pass that will overcome want of confidence. Con- 
 versation, recitation, declamation, singing, and dialogues 
 should be engaged in, however irksome the task, and what- 
 ever failures accrue. If it arises from embarrassment, keep 
 the lungs well filled or inflated, and there will follow com- 
 parative self-possession. When the defect arises from indo- 
 lence or affectation, there is little hope of remedy. 
 
 2. A thick manner of utterance is sometimes the result of 
 malformation, or accidental injury of the vocal organs. In 
 such cases permanent cures are rare. Surgical operations 
 will remove any superfluous growth, but for an absence of 
 parts there is no chance of remedy. A thick manner of 
 speech is often the result of intemperance in the use of liq- 
 uors, tobacco, snuff, or other drugs, and can only be cured 
 by abstemiousness, exercise, and cleanliness of the head-cav- 
 ities, chest, and throat. The mucous linings of the head- 
 cavities may become thickened by catarrhal difficulties, and 
 produce thickness of speech. 
 
 3. Lisping is the habit of substituting th soft for s and z. 
 It can be cured if the lisper has sufficient will-power and pa- 
 tience. Practice faithfully, two or three times a day, a list 
 of words containing s and z, and th. Care should be taken 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 35 
 
 that the tip of the tongue he pressed lightly against the 
 edges of the upper incisor teeth to produce th, and against 
 the gums of the same upper teeth to produce the sound 
 of s. Besides the practice, every lisp in reading, speaking, 
 or conversing should be corrected when made.* 
 
 TABLE NO. 15. 
 
 Words for Practice by Contrast. 
 
 thale 
 
 for sale. 
 
 hathte 
 
 for haste. 
 
 thake 
 that 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 sake, 
 sat. 
 
 patht 
 earth 
 
 a 
 
 ti 
 
 past, 
 cars. 
 
 thalt 
 
 a 
 
 salt. 
 
 thtarth 
 
 a 
 
 stars. 
 
 thee 
 
 a 
 
 see. 
 
 callth 
 
 a 
 
 calls. 
 
 thend 
 
 thigths 
 
 thick 
 
 a 
 a 
 tt 
 
 send, 
 sighs, 
 sick. 
 
 pleathe 
 
 betht 
 
 thkeith 
 
 tt 
 u 
 tt 
 
 please. 
 
 best. 
 
 skies. 
 
 thold 
 
 tt 
 
 sold. 
 
 kith'd 
 
 a 
 
 kissed. 
 
 thoon 
 thot 
 thuit 
 thuch 
 
 a 
 tt 
 a 
 ti 
 
 soon, 
 sot. 
 suit, 
 such. 
 
 ro-thy 
 loth-ing 
 joth-ling 
 mu-thic 
 
 a 
 a 
 tt 
 a 
 
 rosy, 
 losing, 
 jostling, 
 music. 
 
 thouth 
 
 a 
 
 south. 
 
 duth-ter 
 
 tt 
 
 duster. 
 
 thour 
 
 a 
 
 sour. 
 
 tru-ithm 
 
 a 
 
 truism. 
 
 thong 
 thilly 
 thwingths 
 thlow 
 
 a 
 
 tt 
 
 , a 
 
 H 
 
 song, 
 silly, 
 swings, 
 slow. 
 
 con-the-quenthe " 
 con-thtan-thy " 
 cauth-eth " 
 murmur th 
 
 consequence, 
 constancy, 
 causes, 
 murmurs. 
 
 thmile 
 
 a 
 
 smile. 
 
 whith-le 
 
 a 
 
 whistle. 
 
 thnatch 
 
 a 
 
 snatch. 
 
 bleth-ed 
 
 tt 
 
 blessed. 
 
 thpade 
 thrau 
 
 tt 
 tt 
 
 spade, 
 straw. 
 
 rith-eth 
 roth-eth 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 rises, 
 roses. 
 
 thky 
 thtout 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 sky. 
 stout. 
 
 raith-eth 
 wish-eth 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 raises, 
 wishes. 
 
 thenths 
 
 tt 
 
 cents. 
 
 thooth-ing 
 
 tt 
 
 soothing. 
 
 thel-lar 
 
 tt 
 
 cellar. 
 
 thlum-berth 
 
 tt 
 
 slumbers. 
 
 thi-der 
 Tha-rah 
 
 a 
 tt 
 
 cider. 
 Sarah. 
 
 v dith-mith 
 exer-thith-eth 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 dismiss, 
 exercises. 
 
 * Lisping really belongs under "defects by substitution," but has been 
 considered worthy of special study. 
 
36 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 4. Stammering is caused by diffidence, embarrassment, or 
 an attempt at speech without proper control of the vocal 
 organs. To overcome this defect is more difficult than that 
 of lisping. The stammerer should keep the lungs well in- 
 flated while speaking, and try to be hopeful, cheerful, and 
 self-confident. First, the stammerer must believe that he 
 can be cured, not despairing with any number of failures, 
 but energetically persevering in the exercises as directed. 
 There should be systematic training in all the tables belong- 
 ing to Orthophony, particularly on those in respiration, in- 
 tonation, and calisthenics, in order to obtain control of the 
 voluntary muscles. 
 
 Note. — Some people's thoughts outrun their power of utterance, and they 
 stammer because all the words can not come forth at once. It is a fact 
 worthy of attention that stammerers seldom stammer when singing. Is it 
 not because the words are arranged in proper order and time without their 
 assistance, thus relieving them of all responsibility ? It is the same with 
 poetry. Cures have been performed by repeating lines of poetry, giving 
 the rhythmical accent, and keeping time with the finger. At every repeti- 
 tion increase the speed. Try this three times a day, sleep enough, live 
 temperately in all things, do nothing to prostrate the nervous system, and 
 the chances are you will recover. 
 
 Example. " ' Come back ! come back l' he cried in grief, 
 
 Across the stormy water, 
 'And I'll forgive your highland chief, 
 My daughter— oh my daughter V * 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 37 
 
 ENUNCIATION. 
 
 The most common defects or errors of enunciation are 
 found in the substitution, omission, and addition of sounds   
 in syllables, and the overlapping of words in sentences, j 
 When there is no organic defect, these faults result from 
 carelessness or ignorance, and can be remedied by constant 
 attention to, and correction of every error of the kind. Fix- 
 ed habits of articulation or enunciation contracted by uncul- 
 tivated associations and incompetent teachers are exceed- 
 ingly difficult to correct. To correct an error the moment 
 it is noticed, either in reading or speaking, may be humiliat- 
 ing, but will prove a sure remedy. In the following list the 
 right-hand column is the corrected one, for practice in sub- 
 stitution, omission, and addition. 
 
 bi or bu 
 
 lik or luk 
 
 set 
 
 shet 
 
 sence 
 
 git 
 
 said 
 
 dooz 
 
 ketch 
 
 h6m 
 
 again 
 
 c'arse 
 
 lie 
 
 TABLE NO. 16. 
 
 List in Substitution* 
 
 Vowels. 
 
 farm ) 
 
 (said) 
 (does) 
 
 (again) 
 
 for by. 
 
 " like. 
 
 " sit. 
 
 " shut. 
 
 " since. 
 
 " get. 
 
 " sed. 
 
 " dtiz. 
 
 " catch. 
 
 " home. 
 
 " agen. 
 
 " course 
 
 " oil. 
 
 " soil. 
 
 " point. 
 
 " bin. 
 
 " heard. 
 
 " first. 
 
 " city. 
 
 " measure. 
 
 " steady. 
 
 " bonnet. 
 
 " cellar, 
 
 sile " soil. meller " mallow, 
 
 pint " point. piller " pillow. 
 
 ben (been) " bin. childurn " children. 
 
 * Make a sentence for each word, and pronounce it properly. 
 
 fawrm j 
 
 father ) 
 
 father ) 
 
 dence ) 
 
 darnce f 
 
 heerd 
 
 fust 
 
 ceetee 
 
 maysure 
 
 stiddy 
 
 biinnit 
 
 suller 
 
 meller 
 
 piller 
 
 childurn 
 
 for farm. 
 " father. 
 " dance. 
 
38 
 
 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 sMll 
 
 for shall. 
 
 forgit 
 
 ware 
 
 " were. 
 
 modist 
 
 lass 
 
 " loss. 
 
 miint 
 
 nar 
 
 " nor. 
 
 Gawd 
 
 cawurd 
 
 " cord. 
 
 nawt 
 
 dreen 
 
 " drain. 
 
 rench 
 
 lam 
 
 " learn. 
 
 gwine 
 
 idee 
 
 " idea. 
 
 atter 
 
 for forget. 
 
 " modest. 
 
 " ment. 
 
 " God. 
 
 " not. 
 
 " rinse. 
 
 " going. 
 
 " after. 
 
 Consonants. 
 
 t for d, as worts for words. 
 
 lats " lads, etc. 
 th soft for th hard, as baths for baths. 
 
 beneath u beneath. 
 z for s soft, as rize for rise. 
 
 deceazed " deceased. 
 w for v, as wine for vine. 
 
 winegar " vinegar. 
 v for iv, as vill for will. 
 
 valking " walking. 
 
 The errors with to and v are peculiar to foreigners ; there 
 are also those peculiar to children, viz. :* 
 
 t for cA, as tarles for Charles, 
 ticken " chicken. 
 t for c hard, as take for cake, 
 tart " cart. 
 d for g, as dood for good. 
 
 dirl " girl. 
 d for J, as doe for Joe. 
 don " John. 
 
 * Dr. Comstock says: "First I try to show the children the difference of 
 the position of the organs of speech in producing k and g, t and d, etc. If 
 this fails, I open my mouth as widely as possible, so that the tip of the 
 tongue can not touch the gums of the upper teeth, and request the child 
 to open his in like manner. I then direct him to pronounce after me the 
 following syllables : ga, g'a, ga, g&, gi, gi, go, go, g3, gu, gu, gii, ka, ka, 
 ka, ka, etc." When this scheme fails he advises the teacher and pupil to 
 press back and down the tongue with the index finger, and pronounce the 
 syllables given in the preceding exercise. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 TABLE NO. 17. 
 
 List in 
 
 Omission. 
 
 Omission ofr. 
 
 Omission of d. 
 
 g'a'den for garden. 
 
 wil's for wilds. 
 
 ka'd " card. 
 
 fiel's " .fields. 
 
 wo'd " word. 
 
 frien's " friends. 
 
 lo'd " lord. 
 
 an' " and. 
 
 reg'a'd " regard. 
 
 Ian' " land. 
 
 w'a'mer " warmer. 
 
 san' " sand. 
 
 gove'n " govern. 
 
 kin'ness " kindness, 
 
 Feb'uary " February. 
 
 
 he'a'ken " hearken. 
 
 Omission ofh.* 
 
 sea' " scar. 
 
 wile for while. 
 
 fa' " far. 
 
 w T en " when. 
 
 m'a'k " mark. 
 
 wy " why. 
 
 fa'tha " farther. 
 
 wistle " whistle. 
 
 
 wip " whip. 
 
 Omission ofg. 
 
 wat " what. 
 
 readin' for reading. 
 
 s'roud " shroud. 
 
 feelin' " feeling. 
 
 'urt " hurt. 
 
 writin' " writing. 
 
 'andful " handful. 
 
 bein' u being. 
 
 'arvest " harvest. 
 
 seein' " seeing. 
 
 s'rink " shrink. 
 
 buyin' u buying. 
 
 'ermit " hermit. 
 
 singin' " singing. 
 
 
 
 Omissions Miscellaneous. 
 
 Omission of t by prolonging s. 
 
 reg'lar for regular. 
 
 con sis' for consists. 
 
 sev'ral " several. 
 
 enlis' " enlists. 
 
 rhet'ric " rhetoric. 
 
 protes' " protests. 
 
 jub'lee " jubilee. 
 
 wris' " wrists. 
 
 trav'ler " traveler. 
 
 fac's " facts. 
 
 fam'ly " family. 
 
 sofly " softly. 
 
 hist'ry " history. 
 
 swif ly " swiftly. 
 
 des'late " desolate. 
 
 las' " last. 
 
 prob'ble M probable. 
 
 * In the following words wh has the sound of h : 
 
 whoot. whole. 
 
 wholly. whose. 
 
 whoop. who. 
 
 wholesome. whom. 
 
 39 
 
40 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 
 
 18. 
 
 List in 
 
 Addition, 
 
 Addition ofu. 
 
 
 ael for ale. 
 
 elum for elm. 
 
 
 keard " card. 
 
 helum " helm. 
 
 
 
 overwhelum " overwhelm, 
 
 
 Addition of h. 
 
 realum " realm. 
 
 
 hour for our. 
 
 aiir " air (er). 
 
 
 hink " ink. 
 
 noiir " nor. 
 
 
 harm " arm. 
 hown " own, e 
 
 Addition ofe. 
 
 
 
 keow for cow. 
 
 
 Addition of n. 
 
 teown " town. 
 
 
 mint for might 
 
 etc. 
 
 feound " found. 
 
 The addition of a or a is so common, examples are not 
 necessary. He'a wenta toa schoola. 
 
 Overlapping, 
 
 There is an error of enunciation which deserves especial 
 attention, and that is, the overlapping of successive words, 
 a blending of the last sounds of one word with the first 
 sounds of the succeeding word.* 
 
 His small eyes instead of His small lies. 
 
 His hour is up " " His sour is sup. 
 
 Let all men praise him u " Let tall men pray sim. 
 
 Water air and earth " M Water rare and dearth. 
 
 The man had oars to row her over. 
 The man had doors to row her rover. 
 
 Can there be an aim more lofty ? 
 Can there be a name more lofty ? 
 
 He was awed at the works of labor and art before him. 
 He was sawed at the works sof labor an dart before rim. 
 
 Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness. 
 Oh for a lodge in some vas' swilderness. 
 
 * The examples here given are from the Introduction to "Sanders's 
 Readers." 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 41 
 
 Words to Practice in Contrast. 
 These tables, arranged so as to place words of similai 
 termination in contrast, are of importance to students who 
 desire to speak perfect English. Contrasted words should 
 be practiced alike with the rising or falling inflection, as 
 continent', consonant' ; or, continent^, consonant^ ; or, double 
 thus, continent', continent^, consonant', consonant^. 
 
 Contrast No. 1. fo 
 feas'i-ble. 
 ris'i-ble. 
 ter'ri-ble. 
 plaus'i-ble. 
 el'i-gi-ble. 
 cred'i-ble. 
 leg'i-ble. 
 vis'i-ble. 
 aud'i-ble. 
 In-vin'cl-ble. 
 re-spon'si-ble. 
 de-du'ci-ble. 
 di-vis'i-ble. 
 in-com-pat'i-ble. 
 in-telli-gi-ble. 
 
 Contrast No. 2. 
 
 countless. 
 
 good'ness. 
 
 bless'ed-ness. 
 
 costli-ness. 
 
 bus'i-ness. 
 
 la'zi-ness. 
 
 dauntless. 
 
 listless-ness. 
 
 TABLE NO. 19. 
 
 hie and able (often given tible)? 
 laud'a-ble. 
 en'vl-a-ble. 
 pref'er-a-ble. 
 cred'it-a-ble. 
 rev'6-ca-ble. 
 ven'er-a-ble. 
 sylla-ble. 
 mis'er-a-ble. 
 mem'o-ra-ble. 
 rea'son-a-ble. 
 ad-vis'a-ble. 
 con-sid'er-a-ble. 
 com-mend'a-ble. 
 as-sign'a-ble. 
 re-H'a-ble. 
 
 Iss and oiXs (often given iss). 
 gra'cious. 
 pre'cioiis. 
 val'or-ous. 
 mag-nan'i-mous. 
 vo-lu'min-oiis. 
 su-per'flu-ous. 
 mul-ti-tu'din-ous. 
 in-con'gru-ous. 
 
 * Repeat these endings alternately several times in quick succession. 
 
42 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 20. 
 
 Contrast No. 3. ity and ety. 
 
 i and y short. e and y short. 
 
 u-til'i-ty. so-bri'e-tf, 
 
 no-bil'i-ty. ea-ti'e-ty. 
 
 de-bil'i-ty. anx-i'e-ty. 
 
 a-bil'i-ty. pfe-ty. 
 
 ier-tiri-ty. so-cl'e-ty. 
 
 u-til'i-ty. pro-prl'e-ty. 
 
 fa-eil'i-ty. va-ri'e-ty. 
 
 ac-tiv'i-ty. e-bri'e-ty. 
 
 ac-cliv'i-ty. gay'e-ty. 
 
 af-fin'i-ty. con-tra-rl'e-tj^ 
 
 du-plic'i-ty. no-t o-ri'e-ty. 
 pos-si-bil'i-ty. 
 
 Contrast No. 4. 
 con'ti-nent. 
 el'e-ment. 
 gov'ern-ment. 
 em'i-nent. 
 som'no-lent. 
 judg'ment. 
 con-sist'ent. 
 nu'tri-ment. 
 al-lure'ment. 
 sen'ti-ment. 
 com'pli-ment. 
 rep-re-sent', 
 tran-scend'ent. 
 tur'bu-lent. 
 firm'a-ment. 
 de-lin'quent. 
 com-po'nent. 
 ru'di-ment. 
 in'stru-ment. 
 im-per'ti-nent. 
 
 hit and tint. 
 con'so-nant. 
 el'e-gant. 
 cor'mo-rant. 
 el'e-phant. 
 ar'ro-gant. 
 rec're-ant. 
 men'di-cant. 
 res'o-nant. 
 at-tend'ant. 
 in-ces'sant. 
 ob-serv'ant. 
 miri-tant. 
 mis'cre-ant. 
 ma-lig'nant. 
 syc'o-phant. 
 prot'est-ant. 
 dom'i-nant. 
 con-vers'ant. 
 in-con'stant. 
 pur-su'ant. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 43 
 
 Contrast No. 
 
 coun'sel-or. 
 
 gov'ern-or. 
 
 me'di-a/tor. 
 
 sen'a-tor. 
 
 an-te'ri-or. 
 
 ex-te'ri-or. 
 
 in-te'ri-or. 
 
 sii-pe'ri-or. 
 
 com-pet'i-tor. 
 
 ex-ec'ti-tor. 
 
 pred-e-ces'sor. 
 
 in-ter-ces'sor. 
 
 leg-is-la/tor. 
 
 Contrast No. 6. 
 
 pos'i-tive. 
 
 prim'i-tive. 
 
 in-fin'i-tive. 
 
 sens'i-tive. 
 
 m-quis'i-tive. 
 
 len'i-tive. 
 
 de-fin'i-tive. 
 
 in-tu'i-tive. 
 
 in-trans'i-tive. 
 
 TABLE NO. 21. 
 
 5. or and tir (given as &r.) 
 cir'cu-lar. 
 con'su-lar. 
 sim'i-lar. 
 mus'cu-lar. 
 jug'u-lar. 
 pop'u-lar. 
 in'su-lar. 
 gran'u-lar. 
 sec'u-lar. 
 par-tic'u-lar. 
 ver-nac'u-lar. 
 au-ric'u-lar. 
 per-pen-dic'u-lar. 
 
 itive and titive (given dtive). 
 com-par'a-tive. 
 su-perla-tive. 
 in-dic'a-tive. 
 nar'ra-tive. 
 de-clar'a-tive. 
 im-per'a-tive. 
 de-riv'a-tive. 
 re-stor'a-tive. 
 pre-rog'a-tiva 
 
 Contrast No. 7. 
 vi'o-let. 
 min'u-et. 
 cab'in-et. 
 vi'o-lent. 
 se'rl-es. 
 spe'ci-es. 
 
 U and ate, etc. 
 vi'o-late. 
 vin'di-cate. 
 prel'ate. 
 vi'o-late. 
 se-ri-oiis. 
 spe'ci-oiis. 
 
44 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 TABLE NO. 22. 
 
 Words in which u has the sound of o in do (see Rule for TT y 
 page 48) : 
 
 true. 
 
 truly. 
 
 imbrue. 
 
 construe. 
 
 truth. 
 
 truthfully. 
 
 truthfulness. 
 
 truism. 
 
 fruit. 
 
 fruitful. 
 
 fruitfulness. 
 
 rude. 
 
 rudely. 
 
 rudeness. 
 
 protrude. 
 
 protrusion. 
 
 intrude. 
 
 intrusion. 
 
 truce. 
 
 spruce. 
 
 ruse. 
 
 sprucely. 
 
 abstruse. 
 
 prune. 
 
 pruning. 
 
 sure. 
 
 surety. 
 
 surely. 
 
 assurance. 
 
 insurance. 
 
 Words in which it has the sound of lew in view: 
 
 due. 
 
 duly. 
 
 sue. 
 
 suit. 
 
 suited. 
 
 suiting. 
 
 nude. 
 
 nudely. 
 
 purely. 
 
 exude. 
 
 interlude. 
 
 prelude. 
 
 preclude. 
 
 deduce. 
 
 induce. 
 
 conduce. 
 
 June. 
 
 use. 
 
 useful. 
 
 usefully. 
 
 illume. 
 
 presume. 
 
 consume. 
 
 tune. 
 
 tuning. 
 
 pure. 
 
 dual. 
 
 lunar. 
 
 In preterits of verbs and participles, the e in eel is Mip« 
 pressed. 
 
 feared, 
 praised, 
 admired, 
 tossed. 
 
 suppressed, 
 stopped, 
 soused, 
 beloved. 
 
 blessed, 
 cursed, 
 learned. 
 
 picked, 
 winged, 
 toused. 
 
 In adjectives not participial, the e in ed is sounded, 
 naked. wretched. learned. soused, 
 
 ragged. beloved. winged. confounded, 
 
 striped. blessed. toused. abused, 
 
 wicked. cursed. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 
 
 45 
 
 TABLE NO. 23. 
 
 Terminations el and en. 
 
 In the folio win 
 
 g words the last e should be 
 
 suppressed : 
 
 hazel. 
 
 sunken. 
 
 burden. 
 
 shorten. 
 
 navel. 
 
 leaven. 
 
 garden. 
 
 seven. 
 
 ravel. 
 
 driven. 
 
 riven. 
 
 fallen. 
 
 shekel. 
 
 quicken. 
 
 even. 
 
 deepen. 
 
 shrivel. 
 
 thicken. 
 
 woven. 
 
 threaten. 
 
 swivel. 
 
 smitten. 
 
 tighten. 
 
 shaken. 
 
 weasel. 
 
 listen. 
 
 sicken. 
 
 open. 
 
 Lovel. 
 
 roughen. 
 
 silken. 
 
 weaken. 
 
 drivel. 
 
 spoken. 
 
 wooden. 
 
 taken. 
 
 grovel. 
 
 soften. 
 
 broken. 
 
 token. 
 
 mantel. 
 
 often. 
 
 swollen. 
 
 
 ousel. 
 
 fasten. 
 
 leaden. 
 
 laden. 
 
 rivel. 
 
 deafen. 
 
 earthen. 
 
 harden. 
 
 shovel. 
 
 hasten. 
 
 glisten. 
 
 graven. 
 
 snivel. 
 
 raven. 
 
 kitten. 
 
 oven. 
 
 easel. 
 
 heaven. 
 
 stiffen. 
 
 given. 
 
 golden. 
 
 happen. 
 
 vixen. 
 
 frighten. 
 
 waxen. 
 
 waken. 
 
 dozen. 
 
 whiten. 
 
 frozen. 
 
 drunken. 
 
 sloven. 
 
 lighten. 
 
 molten. 
 
 gladden. 
 
 
 
 In the following words the last 
 
 i e should be sounded : 
 
 vessel. 
 
 aspen. 
 
 gravel. 
 
 bitumen. 
 
 travel. 
 
 catechumen. 
 
 tinsel. 
 
 cerumen. 
 
 flannel. 
 
 chicken. 
 
 sorrel. 
 
 hymen. 
 
 chisel. 
 
 fl amen. 
 
 gospel. 
 
 hyphen. 
 
 kernel. 
 
 kitchen. 
 
 hovel. 
 
 latten. 
 
 revel. 
 
 legumen. 
 
 model. 
 
 linen. 
 
 level. 
 
 marten. 
 
 fuel. 
 
 mitten. 
 
 bevel. 
 
 mynchen. 
 
 chapel. 
 
 omen. 
 
 morsel. 
 
 hatter. 
 
 pommel. 
 
 platen. 
 
 laurel. 
 
 pollen. 
 
 towel. 
 
 regimen. 
 
 parcel. 
 
 siren. 
 
 trowel. 
 
 sloven. 
 
 marvel. 
 
 specimen. 
 
 rowel. 
 
 sudden. 
 
 tassel. 
 
 ticken. 
 
 vowel. 
 
 woolen. 
 
46 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Adjectives changed into adverbs by the addition of ly, 
 the ed is often full, as confess'd, confessedly, design'd, de- 
 signedly. 
 
 My is pronounced my when emphatic, otherwise mp (not 
 me, as many seem to think), and mine is pronounced mine in 
 common language, drama, etc., where sublimity does not re- 
 quire the full long sound of i 3 and when not emphatic. 
 
 The article or adjective the is pronounced the (thee) be- 
 fore a vowel or h mute, and thu (thu) before a consonant or 
 h aspirate. 
 
 The article or adjective a has a short sound nearly like a 
 in at. 
 
 So powerful is the influence of habit, that after systemat- 
 ic training pupils will frequently commit errors in articula- 
 tion and enunciation when reading successive paragraphs. 
 To remedy this, the teacher must return to the analyzing 
 process, beginning by pronouncing every word of a sen- 
 tence separately, then each syllable of the words, followed 
 by the sounds in the syllables. (Class Methods, page 66.) 
 William Kussel gives a very excellent and similar mode of 
 correction, viz., "Begin at the end of a line, sentence, or 
 paragraph, so as to prevent the possibility of reading negli- 
 gently; then, 1st, articulate every element in every word 
 separately and very distinctly throughout the line or sen- 
 tence ; 2d, enunciate every syllable of each word throughout 
 the line or sentence clearly and exactly ; 3d, pronounce ev- 
 ery word in the same style ; 4th, read the line or sentence 
 from the beginning forward, with strict attention to the 
 manner of pronouncing every word; 5th, read the whole 
 line or sentence with an easy, fluent enunciation, paying 
 strict attention to the expression of the meaning, but with- 
 out losing correctness in the style of pronunciation." 
 
 Pronunciation depends upon the law of prevailing good 
 custom, hence is subject to changes from time to time. Not- 
 withstanding this bar to a fixed standard of pronunciation, 
 a few rules will be inserted to meet the demands of the pu- 
 pils of this period. These rules are based upon the "Prin- 
 ciples of Pronunciation" found in Worcester's Unabridged 
 Dictionary, and will not conflict with those of Webster. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 47 
 
 Rules for Pronunciation. Single Vowel Sounds. 
 
 1. A final voioel in an accented syllable has the long sound, 
 as in ba-sis, le-gal, trl-al, sono'-rous, cu'-bic, ty-rant. 
 
 2. In monosyllables ending with silent e, preceded by a sin- 
 gle consonant, vowels have usually the long sound, as in 
 fate, mete, pine, note, tube, type. Exceptions : have, are, 
 and bade, the preterit of bid. 
 
 3. In monosyllables not ending with silent e, vowels gen- 
 erally take their short sound, as in fat, met, pin, not, tub. 
 
 4. In accented syllables ending with consonants, vowels 
 usually take their short sounds, as in aban'don, attentive, 
 exhibit, laconic, reltic'tant, lyrical. 
 
 A. 
 
 5. A, unaccented r , and ending a word, or constituting an un- 
 accented syllable at the beginning of a word, has the sound 
 of a in father, as America, idea. And ah final has still 
 more of the Italian sound, as in Jehovah, Messiah. Excep- 
 tions: a-or'-ta, a-e'rial, because followed by a vowel. 
 
 6. A, followed by/*, s, or n in the same syllable, should re- 
 ceive an intermediate sound between short a, as in man, and 
 the Italian a, as in far. It is a sound shorter than a, as 
 grass, graft, command, past. 
 
 7. A, 6, ai, and sometimes ea, when followed by r, take the 
 sound of short e, as in fare, where, pair, bear. The sound 
 is called by some an intermediate sound between short a, as 
 in fat, and long a, as in ale, but is really long a modified by 
 the succeeding r, and equal to short e. 
 
 8. A, preceded by qu, w, or toh, takes the sound of short o 
 in not, as in quality, swallow, wad, what. 
 
 K 
 
 E, followed by I or n in an unaccented final syllable, has 
 in some words an indistinct short sound, and in some it is 
 entirely suppressed. (See page 45, List for Practice.) In 
 most words ending in el the sound of e is given, as in flan- 
 nel. And in most of those ending in en the sound of e is 
 suppressed, as in oft-en. 
 
48 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 The sound of the letter e is generally suppressed in the 
 preterits of verbs, and in participles ending in ed, when the 
 e is not preceded by d or t, as feared, praised. 
 
 Adjectives ending in ed, unless they are participles as well 
 as adjectives, commonly preserve the sound of e before d> 
 as in rag-ged, na-ked. See Table, page 44. 
 
 That class of words, mostly derived from the French and 
 Italian, which contain t, retain the sound of long e, as in an- 
 tique. 
 
 In words w T hich terminate in He or ine, with the accent on 
 the penultimate syllable, the i in the final syllable is gener- 
 ally short, as in fertile, adamantine, etc. Exceptions : ex- 
 ile, Gentile, pentile, feline, confine, and a few others. Also, 
 when the accent is on the antepenult, words ending in He 
 generally have the i short, as juvenile, puerile. Exceptions : 
 chamomile, reconcile, eo'lipile. 
 
 Words ending in ity usually require the final i and y short, 
 as ability. Also the short sound of e and y in the termina- 
 tion ety, as variety. When i ends an initial syllable with- 
 out accent, and the succeeding syllable begins with a con- 
 sonant, the i is generally short, as in civility, divine, finance. 
 Exceptions : biography, librarian, etc. See List, page 42. 
 
 0. 
 
 O, in monosyllables ending mf,ft, ss, st, and th, takes its 
 short sound somewhat prolonged, as in off, often, cross, cost, 
 broth. 
 
 In many words ending in on the sound of o is suppressed, 
 as in bacon, pardon, reason. 
 
 Z7at the beginning of words, when long, has the sound 
 of yu, as in use. 
 
 IT, preceded by r (also tire by 5), has the sound of in do, 
 as in true, sure. 
 
 VandenhofF, in " Art of Elocution," gives a more definite 
 rule, as follows : U has the sound ofiew in view in the sylla- 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 49 
 
 bles and terminations ue, ui% ude, uce, use, itke, ume, une, ure 
 (accented), teal, ular, unar, and uble. When any of the 
 above combinations are compounded with r, or s with ure, 
 u has the sound of o in do. See List, page 44. 
 
 T. 
 
 Yat the end of a word, preceded by a consonant, has the 
 sound of short i, as in pity. The exceptions are monosyl- 
 lables, as by, cry, etc. 
 
 Hides for Pronunciation. Improper Diphthongs. 
 
 JE is a Latin diphthong, and is always pronounced like e 
 in Latin. In English it is used only in words of Latin ori- 
 gin or formation, as aqua-vitae, minutiae, aesthetics, and com- 
 monly has the long sound, as in paean, but is sometimes 
 short, as in Daedalus. 
 
 Ai has usually the sound of long a, as in pail, pain, but 
 has the sound of short e in said, saith, again, and against ; 
 that of short a in plaid and raillery ; that of long i in aisle ; 
 and, in final unaccented syllables, it has the sound of indis- 
 tinct short i, as in mountain, curtain, etc. 
 
 Ao occurs only in the word gaol, pronounced, as it is now 
 more frequently written, jail. 
 
 Aw has the sound of broad a ; bawl and ball being pro- 
 nounced exactly alike. 
 
 Ay has the sound of long a, as in pay, jay, hay, etc. ; 
 except in quay, which is pronounced he. It has the short 
 sound of e in says, and that of short i in Sunday, Monday. 
 
 Ea has the sound of long e, as in beat, hear ; of short e, 
 as in head, lead ; of short and obtuse e, as in earn, heard, 
 pearl ; of long a, as in break ; of broad a, as in heart, hearth ; 
 and, when unaccented, it has an obscure sound, as in venge- 
 ance. 
 
 Eau is only used in words derived from the French, and 
 its regular sound is that of long o, as in beau and bureau. 
 It has the sound of long u in beauty. 
 
 Ee has almost invariably the sound of long e ; the princi- 
 pal exceptions are been and breeches, having the short sound 
 of i. The poetical contractions e'er and ne'er, for ever 
 
 C 
 
50 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 and never, are pronounced with the short sourid of 6, as er, 
 ner. 
 
 EL This diphthong has usually the sound of long a or e y 
 as in neighbor, ceiling, etc. (See page Y.) It has the sound 
 of long i, as in heighten ; of short e, as in heifer; and in an 
 unaccented syllable, the indistinct sound of i, as in foreign. 
 
 Eo has the sound of long o, as in yeoman ; like long e, as 
 in people ; like short e, as in jeopardy ; like broad o (as in 
 nor), as in Georgic; like long w, as in feod (now written 
 feud) ; and when unaccented, it has the indistinct sound of 
 i or o, as in pigeon. 
 
 Eu has the sound of long «, as in feud, deuce. 
 
 Ew has the sound of long u, as in few, new ; but if r pre- 
 cedes it, it takes the sound of o (as in do), as in brew, drew ; 
 and the sound of long o, as in sew, shew, strew. See U, 
 page 48. 
 
 Ey has the sound of long a in bey, grey ; of long e in key, 
 ley; and when unaccented and final, it has the sound of 
 short i t as in valley. 
 
 la, in the terminations ial, ian, iard, often forms but one 
 syllable, the i being sounded like the consonant y, as in 
 filial, Christian, poniard ; pronounced as if written filyal, 
 Christyan, etc. In some words it has the obscure sound of 
 indistinct short i, as in carriage, marriage. 
 
 le, io, ieu, iew. The regular sound of ie is that of long 6, 
 as in chief. It has the sound of long i in die, lie ; and the 
 sound of short e in friend. When t, in the termination ion, 
 is preceded by a liquid, it has the sound of yun, as in mil- 
 lion and minion. The terminations sion and tion are pro- 
 nounced shun, as in version, nation. But when the t is pre- 
 ceded by s or x, ion is pronounced yun, as in question and 
 mixtion. The triphthong ieu is found only in a few words, 
 which are derived from the French, as adieu, lieu ; and it 
 has the sound of long u. The triphthong iew occurs only in 
 view and interview. 
 
 Oa. The regular sound of this diphthong is that of long 
 o, as in boat, loaf; and the sound of broad a in broad and 
 abroad. 
 
 Oe is derived from the Latin, and it is retained in but very 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 51 
 
 few words used in English. It has the sound of short e, as 
 in assafoet'ida ; and that of long e in oedinia, oesoph'agus. 
 
 Oeu. This triphthong is found only in the word manoeu- 
 vre, where it has the sound of o in do. 
 
 Oi and oy have one and the same sound, which is the 
 combined sound of broad a and short i or y, as in boil, toy. 
 
 Oo has the sound of o in do, as in moon, stoop ; and also a 
 shorter sound, like u in full, or o in wolf, as in good, book, 
 wood, and foot; and the sound of long o in door, floor, and 
 that of short u in blood and flood. 
 
 Ou is the most irregular diphthong in the language. Its 
 most common or regular sound is that in which both letters 
 are heard, as in bound, sound, cloud, south, etc. It has the 
 sound of short u in country, cousin, couple, rough, and young. 
 It has the sound of o in do, as in accoutre, group, tour, sur- 
 tout, uncouth, and other words derived from the French. 
 It has the sound of long o in court, accourt, and the sound 
 of broad a, as in ball, or the sound of o in nor, in bought, 
 brought, wrought; the sound of u in full, as in could, would, 
 should ; the sound of short o in hough. 
 
 Ow. The regular sound of this diphthong is the same as 
 the regular sound of on, as in how, bow, now, and tower. It 
 has the sound of long o in below, blow, glow, owe, and show, 
 besides the following words in some of their senses : bow, 
 low, mow, mower, and sow. It has the slight sound of o 
 w T hen it forms an unaccented syllable.   
 
 Ua. When both letters of this diphthong are sounded 
 they have the power of wa, as in equal, language, persuade, 
 and suavity. In some words the u is silent, as in guard, 
 guardian, guarantee, piquant ; and in victuals and victual- 
 ing both letters are silent. 
 
 Ue. When these letters are united in a diphthong, and 
 are both sounded, they have the power of we, as in conquest, 
 consuetude, and desuetude. In some words the u is silent, 
 as in guerdon, guess, and guest. When this diphthong is 
 final, the e in many words is silent, as in due, hue, pursue ; 
 and in some words both letters are silent, as in league, fa- 
 tigue, antique, opaque, and oblique. In the termination 
 ogue, the o is short when preceded by g or l 3 as in demar 
 
52 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 gtfgue, dialogue, except collogue ; but when any other con- 
 sonant precedes o it is long, as in brogue, rogue, and vogue. 
 Ui. These letters, when united in a diphthong, and both 
 are sounded, have the power of wi, as in anguish, languid, 
 and vanquish. In some words the u is silent, as in guide, 
 guile, build, and guinea ; and in others i is silent, as in juice, 
 pursuit, and fruit. 
 
 Rules for Pronunciation, Consonants. 
 
 B, preceded by m in the same syllable, is generally silent, 
 as in lamb, limb, comb, and dumb ; exception, succumb. B 
 is also silent before t in the same syllable, as in debt and 
 doubt. 
 
 C is hard, and sounds like k before a, o, and u ; and it is 
 soft, and sounds like s before e, i % and y, except in sceptre and 
 scirrhus, with their derivatives, in which c sounds like k. 
 In the word indict and its derivatives c is silent. When c 
 comes after the accent, and is followed by ea, ia, to, or eous, 
 it takes, like s and t under the same circumstances, the sound 
 of sh, as in social, ocean, tenacious, and cetaceous. In the 
 words discern, sacrifice, and suffice, and in several words 
 derived from them, also in the word sice, c has the sound 
 of z. 
 
 D takes the sound of t in some words ending in ed, as in 
 distressed, mixed, fixed, etc., pronounced distrest, mixt, and 
 fixt. 
 
 jFhas always the same sound, except in the preposition 
 of, in which it has the sound of v. 
 
 G is hard before a, o, and u. The only exception is goal, 
 which is commonly written jail. When g is followed by n 
 at the beginning of a word it is silent, as in gnarl, gnash, 
 gnomon. It is also silent when followed by n at the end of 
 a word : arraign, assign. G is sometimes hard and some- 
 times soft before e, i, and y. It is hard before e, as in geese, 
 get, dagger ; before i in gibber, gift, girl, gimp ; before y in 
 ba ggy, cloggy. 
 
 His always silent after r, as in rheum, rhetoric, rhapsody. 
 
 -ZTis always silent before n, as in knee, know. 
 
 M is never silent except in accompt, comptroller, pro- 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 53 
 
 nounced, and also more commonly written, account, control- 
 ler. 
 
 iVlias the sound of ng before 7c, c, g hard, qu, or x, as in 
 thank, zinc, anger, banquet, and anxious. It is mute when 
 it ends a syllable and is preceded by I or m, as in kiln, hymn, 
 column, and autumn. 
 
 P is silent before s and t at the beginning of words, as in 
 psalter, psalm. 
 
 Q is always followed by a, and qu has the sound of kw, as 
 in queen, quill. In many words derived from the French it 
 has the sound of 7c, as in etiquette, mosque, liquor. 
 
 S has always its sharp or hissing sound at the beginning 
 of words, as in son, safe ; also at the end of words when 
 they terminate in as, except the words as, has> was, where- 
 as, and the plural of nouns ending in ea, as seas, pleas. It 
 is soft in all words ending in ss, as less, express ; in words 
 ending in is, except the monosyllables is and his; in all 
 words ending in as and ous, as genius, famous ; in all words 
 when s is preceded by either of the mutes 7c, p, t, or by/, as 
 locks, caps, hats, muffs. S final has the sound of z when it 
 immediately follows any consonant except the mutes 7c, p, t, 
 the semivowel f and th aspirated, as in ribs, heads ; also 
 when it forms an additional syllable with e before it ; in the 
 plural of nouns, and the third person singular of verbs end- 
 ing in se, to distinguish them from nouns and adjectives of 
 the same form, as use, abuse, close, diffuse. S takes the 
 sound of sh in words ending in sion preceded by a conso- 
 nant, as in diversion ; also in a few other words : sugar, su- 
 mach, fissure, censure, seisure, sure, insure, pressure, sensual, 
 nauseate, and tissue. #has the sound of zh in the termina- 
 tion sion preceded by a vowel, as in cohesion, evasion, and 
 explosion. 
 
 1\ like s and c, is aspirated when it comes immediately 
 after an accent, and is followed by the vowels ai, ie, or io, 
 taking the sound, in these cases, of sh, as in partial, patient, 
 nation, militia, and negotiate. 
 
 IF is always silent before r, as in write, wren, and wrist. 
 
 JXThas the sound of Tcs usually, as in excellent, expect, tax ; 
 also the sound of gz when the next syllable following begins 
 
54 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 with an accented vowel, as in exalt, exert. At the begin- 
 ning of words it has the sound of z, as in Xenophon, Xerxes. 
 -STalso takes the sound of Jcsh in some words when the ac- 
 cent immediately precedes it, as in fluxion, anxious, luxury, 
 complexion. 
 
 Ch, preceded by I or n, has the sound of sh (some authors 
 say ch, as in rich), as belch, filch. Ch has the sound of h in 
 words derived from the ancient language, as in alchemy, an- 
 archy, and anchor. Exceptions are charity, chart, charter. 
 Ch is hard in all words in which it is followed by I or r, 
 as Christian, chlorosis. When arch, signifying chief, begins 
 a word from the Greek language, and is followed by a vow- 
 el, it is pronounced ark, as in archangel, architect ; but when 
 arch is prefixed to an English word, it is pronounced to 
 rhyme with marcli. Ch is silent in drachm, schism, and 
 yacht. 
 
 Gh. At the beginning of a word h is silent, as in ghost, 
 ghastly, gherkin. In bough, h is silent at the end of a word. 
 Gh is commonly silent at the end of words, as in high, sigh, 
 and weigh. In some words it has the sound of/*, as in tough, 
 laugh ; and in some the sound of Jc, as in hough, shough. In 
 clough and slough it is»sometimes silent, and sometimes has 
 the sound of/1 The combination of letters ough has no less 
 than seven different sounds, which are exhibited in the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 " 'Tis not an easy task to show 
 How ough sound : since, though 
 An Irish lough and English slough, 
 And cough and hiccough, all allow, 
 Differ as much as bough and through, 
 There seems no reason why they do." 
 
 Ght. In this termination the letters gh are always silent, 
 as in fight, height ; except in draught, which is pronounced, 
 and in some of its senses written, draft. 
 
 Ph has generally the sound of/*, as in philosophy. In 
 nephew (according to the principal English orthoepists) and 
 in Stephen it has the sound of v, and in the triphthong naph- 
 tha, etc., the h is silent (nap'tha or naf 'tha). 
 
 Th at the beginning of words is generally sharp, as 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 55 
 
 in thin, think (see page 35, List for Lispers), and also at 
 the end of words, as in death, breath. In some nouns it is 
 sharp in the singular and flat in the plural, as in bath, baths, 
 lath, laths. In some words the h is silent, as in Thomas, 
 thyme. 
 Wh. In some words the w is silent, as in who, whole. 
 
 READING EXERCISES. 
 ARTICULATION AND PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 1. It was indubitably an abominable eccentricity. 
 
 2. Up a high hill he heaved a huge round stone. 
 
 3. The glassy gla/ciers gleamed in glowing light. 
 
 4. The invin'cible duplic'ity of inquisitive men. 
 
 5. The listlessness and la'ziness of the friv'oloiis. 
 
 6. Ev'ery government has its his'tory. 
 
 7. The elements of our language include con'sonants. 
 
 8. Counselors should be particularly supe'rior. 
 
 9. Round and round the rugged rocks the ragged rascal 
 ran. 
 
 10. The stripling stranger strayed straight toward the 
 struggling stream. 
 
 11. The incomprehensibirity of the ar'ticle, etymolog'ical- 
 ly considered, is evident. 
 
 12. It was a family opinion majes'tically expressed. 
 
 13. The manifestations of force are visible, reliable, and 
 reasonable. 
 
 14. A big black bug bit a big black bear. 
 
 15. Socks and shoes shock Susan. {Repeat.) 
 
 16. Truly rural, truly rural rationalist. 
 
 1 7. Feb'ruary and June, February and June. 
 
 18. {Quick.) Peter Prangle, the prickly prangly pear-pick- 
 er, picked three pecks of prickly prangly pears from the 
 prangly pear-trees on the pleasant prairies. 
 
 19. "Amidst the mists, with angry boasts, 
 
 He thrusts his fists against the posts, 
 And still insists he sees the ghosts." 
 
 20. The vile vag'abond ven'tured to vilify the ven'erable 
 vet'eran. 
 
56 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 21. (Quick.) Theoph'ttiis Thistle, the successful thistle-sift- 
 er, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three 
 thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb. ISTow, if 
 Theoph/ilus Thistle, the successful thistle-sifter, in sifting a 
 sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles 
 through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a 
 sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand 
 thistles through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the 
 successful thistle-sifter. 
 
 22. Masses of immense magnitude move majestically 
 through the vast empire of the solar system. 
 
 23. She uttered a sharp, shrill shriek, and shrunk from the 
 enshrouded shrine. 
 
 24. The miserable accom'paniment is unnecessary and 
 intol'erable. 
 
 QUALITIES OF VOICE. 
 
 2. Pure Tone. 
 
 " I love my country's pine-clad hills, 
 Her thousand bright and gushing rills, 
 
 Her sunshine and her storms ; 
 Her rough and rugged vocks, that rear 
 Their hoary heads high m the air 
 
 In wild fantastic forms. " 
 
 2. Orotund. 
 
 11 'Drink,' said the demon, c drink your fill ; 
 
 Drink of these waters mellow ; 
 They'll make your eyeballs sear and dull, 
 
 And turn your white skins yellow ; 
 They'll fill your homes with care and grief, 
 
 And clothe your backs with tatters ; 
 They'll fill your hearts with evil thoughts — 
 
 But, never mind, what matters ?' " — Mac#ay. 
 
 3. Pectoral. 
 
 " The skies they were ashen and sober, 
 The leaves they were crisped and sear, 
 The leaves they were withering and sear. 
 
 It was night in the lonesome October 
 (Of my most immemorial year), 
 
 It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, 
 In the misty mid-region of Wier — 
 
 It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, 
 
 In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Wier. "— Poa. 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 57 
 
 4. Guttural 
 
 "Thou slave, wretch, coward." 
 
 " I'll strip you of your commission ; 
 I'll lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and you 
 
 shall live on the interest. 
 I'll disown you ; I'll disinherit you ; and hang me if ever I call you 
 Jack again while I live." — Sheridan. 
 
 5. Aspirate. 
 
 " 'Twere better by far 
 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." — Scott. 
 "Or whispering with white lips, 
 The foe — they come — they come !" — Byron. 
 
 6. Nasal 
 
 " ' The birds can fly, 
 An' why can't I ? 
 Must we give in, ' 
 Says he, with a grin, 
 * That the blue-bird an' phcebe 
 Are smarter 'n we be ? 
 Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller 
 An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler ?' " — Trowbridgh. 
 
 7. Oral 
 
 • " She * perfectly scorned the best of his clan, 
 And reckoned the ninth of any man 
 
 An exceedingly vulgar fraction.' 
 He ' quite regretted the step, 'twas true — 
 The lady had pride enough for two ; 
 But that alone would never do 
 
 To quiet the butcher and baker. ' " — Saxe. 
 
 8. Falsetto. 
 
 " Do, good people, move on ; such a rabble of boys ! 
 I'll break every bone of 'em I come near ; 
 Go home — you're spilling the porter — 
 
 Go home, Tommy Jones, go along with your beer. 
 This is the sorrowfulest day of my life, 
 
 Ever since my name was Betty Morgan." — Hood. 
 
 Note. — To overcome a monotonous habit of delivery, read alternate linei 
 of a poem in the pure tone, contrasted with another quality of voice, as the 
 pure with the orotund, the pure with the aspirate or nasal. For persona- 
 tion, give each character in a dialogue or drama a particular quality of 
 Voice as his own. 
 
 C2 
 
58 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 PITCH. 
 
 Scale Exercise. 
 do. O High worth is elevated place, 
 si. O High worth is elevated place, 
 la. O High worth is elevated place, 
 sol. O High worth is elevated place, 
 fa. O High worth is elevated place, 
 mi. O High worth is elevated place, 
 re. O High worth is elevated place, 
 do. O High worth is elevated place. 
 
 Note. — Repeat each note of the scale four times, begin- 
 ning with the lowest : Do, do, do, do, re, re, re, re, etc. -.When 
 the octave has been completed, reverse the exercises, and 
 repeat them, beginning with the highest note of the scale. 
 Next repeat the sentence in each of the keys from the low- 
 est to the highest, and from the highest to the lowest, re- 
 membering to keep the reading voice. 
 
 Heading upon the Scale in Lines. 
 
 " Like to the falling of a star, 
 Or as the flights of eagles are ; 
 Or like the fresh Spring's gaudy hue, 
 Or silver drops of morning dew ; 
 Or like a wind that chafes the flood, 
 Or bubbles which on water stood — 
 E'en such is man, whose borrowed light 
 Is straight called in and paid to-night : 
 The wind blows oat, the bubble dies ; 
 The Spring entombed in Autumn lies ; 
 The dew dries up, the star is shot, 
 The flight is past, and man forgot." — King. 
 
 Note. — Begin with the lowest note of the voice, and read 
 each line one note higher than the one before, until you 
 reach that point in your voice where it is said to " break" 
 or change to the falsetto. You may not be able to reach an 
 octave at first, but after a few weeks' steady, careful prac- 
 tice you will probably be able to read upon any key within 
 the compass of an octave and a half. 
 
 Reverse this exercise, and read down from the highest to 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 59 
 
 the lowest note of the voice. Fifteen minutes' practice, 
 without i:est, is enough. 
 
 Reading upon the Scale in Syllables. 
 
 " Then fear not, doubt not, which thou wilt, 
 We'll try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
 
 Note. — Practice this, or any other couplet of monosylla* 
 bles, raising the pitch one note on every syllable. Reverse, 
 and read down the scale. See Table 10. 
 
 Monotone. 
 
 1. "O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
 fathers ! whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting 
 light ?"— Ossian. 
 
 2. " High on a throne of royal state, which far 
 
 Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind, 
 Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
 Showers on her kings barbaric pearls and gold, * , 
 Satan exalted sat!" — Milton. 
 
 3. Wisdom {Job xxviii., 12) is also a fine example of the 
 monotone. 
 
 Drifting , full Rising and Falling Inflections. 
 
 "He never dines with comfort, | but wheee he is sure to 
 create a famine ; | he never robs from the loose superfluity 
 of standing greatness ; | he devours the fallen, the indi- 
 gent, the necessitous ; | his extortion is not like the gener 
 ous rapacity of the princely eagle, who snatches away the 
 living, struggling prey; | he is a vulture who feeds upon 
 the prostrate, the dying, and the dead." 
 
 Note. — Read this example* with a strong rising inflection 
 on the words in italic, and a full falling inflection on the 
 words in small capitals, as an exercise in sweeping inflec- 
 tions of a fifth or an octave. 
 
 Words in Antithesis take opposite Inflections. 
 
 1. u I said an elder soldier\ not a better'." 
 
 2. "It is soic?i in weakness' ; it is raised in power s . It is 
 soicn a natural body'; it is raised a spiritual bodyV 
 
60 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 3. " I come to bury y Caesar, not to praise' him." 
 
 4. " The king s was without power', and the nobles' with- 
 out principle". They were tyrants^ at home', and robbers' 
 abroad\" 
 
 5. " We live in deeds, not years — in thoughts, not breath — 
 in feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time 
 by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks the most — 
 
 FEELS THE NOBLEST — ACTS THE BEST." 
 
 6. " You have done the mischief, and I bear the blame." 
 
 7. " The wise man is happy when he gains his own appro- 
 bation; the fool when he gains that of others* 
 
 Words in Apposition take the same Infection. 
 
 1. u Oh comrades'! warriors"! Thracians" ! if we must 
 fight, let us fight for ourselves ! If we must slaughter, let 
 us slaughter our oppressors." 
 
 2. Thomas Moore', the poet', was born in Dublin in 1780. 
 
 Climax. 
 
 1. "If I were an American, while a foreign troop were 
 landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — 
 NEVER, never, never!" — Earl of Chatham. 
 
 2. " In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
 
 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire. " — Poe. 
 
 3. " Clarence has come ! false ! fleeting ! PERJURED 
 Clarence /" 
 
 Irony. 
 " Oh excellent interpreter of the laws ! master of antiqui- 
 ty ! corrector and amender of our Constitution !" — Cicero. 
 
 Compound Inflection. 
 
 "I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel; 
 but when the parties met themselves, one of them thought 
 but of an if; as, ' If you said so, then I said so.' * Oh ho ! did 
 you say so ?' So they shook hands and were sworn broth- 
 ers." 
 
 "Must I budge ; must I observe you ; 
 Must I stand and crouch under your testy humor?" 
 
ORTHOPHONY. 6 1 
 
 FORCE. 
 
 Rhythmical Accent, 
 
 "Pause' not to dream' of the fu'ture before' us, 
 Pause' not to weep' the wild cares' that come o'er' ug : 
 Hark' how Crea'tion's deep mu'sical chorus 
 
 Un'intermitting goes up' into heav'en ! 
 Nev'er the o'cean-wave stops' in its flow'ing ; 
 Nev'er the lit'tle seed stops' in its grow'ing ; 
 More' and more rich'ly the rose'-heart keeps glow'ing 
 
 Till' from its nourishing stem' it is riven." — Osgood. 
 
 Absolute Emphasis, 
 
 1. "What destiny sends, bear." — Herder. 
 
 2. "There is nothing more fearful than imagination with- 
 out taste." — Goethe. 
 
 Antithetic Emphasis, 
 
 1. "Be noble-minded! Our own hearty and not other 
 men's opinions of us, forms our true honor." — Schiller. 
 
 2. " What makes old age so sad is not that our joys, but 
 that our hopes cease." — Richter. 
 
 Emphasis of Emotion, 
 
 1. " Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves — 
 
 Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
 Will ye look for greener graves ? 
 
 Hope ye mercy still ? 
 What's the mercy despots feel ? 
 Hear it in that battle-peal — 
 Read it on yon bristling steel — 
 
 Ask it — ye who will!" — Pierpont. 
 
 2. " Up, comrades, up ! in Rokeby's halls 
 
 Ne'er be it said our courage falls !" 
 
 3. " * Hold !' tyranny cries ; but their resolute breath 
 
 Sends back the reply, * Independence or death I' " 
 
 Cumulative Emphasis, 
 
 1. "The Union— it must and shall be PRESERVED." 
 
 2. " Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George !" 
 
 3. " Charge Chester, charge ! 02ST, Stanley, ON 1" 
 
62 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 STRESS. 
 
 1. Radical Stress. 
 
 " Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 Unreal mockery, hence!" 
 
 2. Final Stress. 
 
 " Too much horrified to speak, 
 They can only shriek — shriek." 
 " What ! you threaten us ? Do your worst ; 
 • Blow your pipe, there, till you burst." 
 
 3. Median Stress. 
 
 " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. 9 
 
 /) " The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 
 And sighed for pity as it answered (>) ' No.' " 
 "The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, 
 Stopped for a while, and sighed for answer {dim. in swells) i No !' 
 
 4. Thorough Stress. 
 
 "Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
 Flash'd as they turned in air, 
 Sabring the gunners there, 
 Charging an army, while 
 
 All the world wonder'd : 
 Plunged in the battery-smoke, 
 Right through the line they broke ; 
 Cossack and Russian 
 Reeled from the sabre-stroke 
 
 Shattered and sundered. 
 Then they rode back, but not, 
 
 Not the six hundred." 
 
 5. Compound Stress. 
 
 "Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace ! 
 False blood to false blood joined ! gone to be friends ! 
 Shall Louis have Blanche, and Blanche these provinces ?" 
 
 6. Tremor. 
 
 "If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel in command 
 Place me upon the ramparts, with the flag-staff in my hand. 
 No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the shells 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 see me as he looks from highest heaven, 
 And say to Putnam at his side, or may be General Wayne, 
 ' There stands old Billy Johnson, that fought at Lundy's Lane.' " 
 
OliTHOPHCXNY. 63 
 
 1. Fast. 
 
 "Away ! away ! our fires stream bright 
 Along the frozen river, 
 And their arrowy sparkles of brilliant light 
 On the forest branches quiver. " 
 (R'f 1 ("There was racing and chasing on CannobieLea, 
 *■ t But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did we see." 
 
 2. Moderate. 
 
 "Oh, sweet and beautiful is night, 
 
 When the silver moon is high, 
 And countless stars like clustering gems 
 
 Hang sparkling in the skies ; 
 While the balmy breath of the summer breeze 
 
 Comes whispering down the glen, 
 And one fond voice alone is heard — 
 
 Oh! night is lovely then." 
 
 3. Slow. 
 
 "He is gone on the mountain, he is lost to the forest, 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, when our need was the sorwt; 
 The fount, reappearing, from the rain-drops shall borrow, 
 But to us comes no cheering, to Duncan no morrow. 
 The hand of the reaper takes the ears that are hoary, 
 But the voice of the weeper wails manhood in glory ; 
 The autumn winds, rushing, waft the leaves that are serest, 
 But our flower was in flushing when blighting was nearest. 
 Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone, and forever." . 
 
 Long Pause. 
 
 Pause a moment. (5) I heard a footstep. (6) Listen now. 
 (10) I heard it again, (4) but it is going from us. (4) It 
 sounds fainter, (8) still fainter, (2) it is gone. 
 
 I Short Pause. 
 
 John, be quick, (l) Get some water. (1) Throw the pow- 
 der overboard. (3) "It can not be reached." (1) Jump into 
 the boat, then. (1) Shove off. (l) There goes the powder. (1) 
 Thank heaven ! we are safe. 
 
 Note. — The figures denote the number to count at each 
 pause. 
 
64 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Origin. 
 
 Adagio, 
 Largo, 
 Andante, 
 Presto, 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 Abbreviated Sig7is for marking Sentences, 
 
 Sign. 
 
 Sign. Meaning. 
 
 ad., or v. si., very slow, 
 lar., or si., slow. 
 
 adt., 
 prs., or q., 
 
 middle time. 
 % quick. 
 
 Prestissimo, prss.,or v.q., very quick. 
 
 Accelerando, ace, 
 
 Ritard, 
 
 Pianissimo, 
 
 Piano, 
 
 Mezzo, 
 
 Forte, 
 
 Fortissimo, 
 
 nt., 
 PP., 
 P-, 
 mz., 
 
 quickening. 
 
 slackening. 
 
 very soft. 
 
 soft. 
 
 moderate. 
 
 loud. 
 
 very loud. 
 
 Origin. 
 
 Crescendo, < 
 
 Diminuendo, > 
 
 l.,or( ), 
 md., or (o), 
 h., or (°), 
 tr., or -^n*, 
 pi., 
 asp., 
 
 fts., or af., 
 brl., or br., 
 frs., or fr., 
 
 Affetuoso, 
 Brillante, 
 Furioso, 
 Spirituoso, 
 
 Meaning. 
 
 incrVg force.* 
 
 dimin'g force.* 
 
 low. 
 
 middle. 
 
 high. 
 
 tremulously. 
 
 plaintively. 
 
 aspirate. 
 
 affectionately. 
 
 brilliantly, gay. 
 
 fiercely, mad. 
 
 spt., or sp., spirited. 
 (Slow.) "At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks — 
 (Loud and ('Land! land!' (Moderate) cry the sailors; (Loud) 'land! 
 
 High.) \ land !'— he awakes— 
 
 (Fast.) He runs— yes ! behold it ! it blesseth his sight ! 
 
 (Spirited.) The land! Oh dear spectacle/ transport! delight!" 
 r \ (" Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, 
 
 1 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 
 , „ n < But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 
 
 1 The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar." 
 (Slow ) /"When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
 
 ( The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ; 
 (Fast *) $ ^ ot so wnen sw *ft Camilla scours the plain, 
 
 ( Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main." 
 
 POPB. 
 
 {"Go ring the bells and fire the guns, 
 And fling the starry banner out ; 
 Shout 'Freedom' till your lisping ones 
 Give back the cradle shout." — Whittier. 
 
 (Slow.) 
 (Moderate.) 
 (Low and Soft.) 
 {Very Soft.) 
 (» 
 
 (Slow.) 
 
 1 (Soft.) 
 
 (Low.) 
 
 (Low 8f Loud.) 
 (High SrLoud.) 
 (Moderate.) 
 
 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, 
 Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay 
 (Round .a holy calm diffusing, 
 Love of peace and lonely musing), 
 In hollow murmurs died away. " 
 
 He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed 
 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
 
 Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 
 Still as the breeze, (Loud) but dreadful as the storm ! 
 
 Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
 
 ' Revenge, or Death !' — the watchword and reply ; 
 
 Then pealed the notes omnipotent to charm, 
 
 And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm!" — Campbell. 
 
 * These signs, when placed before a line, apply to the entire line. 
 
PAET II. 
 CLASS METHODS. 
 
 PRIMARY READING. 
 
 Primary reading may be taught analytically, by begin- 
 ning with words, and concluding with their component ele- 
 ments (sounds and letters), or synthetically, by beginning 
 with the elements (sounds and letters), and concluding with 
 words and sentences. 
 
 In these methods the teacher will need a blackboard, and 
 a greater or less number of the following articles, viz., real- 
 objects, picture -objects, word-objects, slates, cards, charts, 
 and books, according to the method employed. The black- 
 board is indispensable in any method, and if used, each pu- 
 pil in the class should have a slate, with a pencil and bit of 
 sponge attached. In ungraded schools, the slates serve to 
 occupy and amuse the small children while the teacher is 
 engaged with older classes. They can, in the time thus 
 occupied, learn to print, write, draw simple objects, or very 
 profitably occupy their time in inventive drawing. 
 
 The real object employed must correspond with the pic- 
 ture and word objects selected for the lesson. The picture- 
 objects will be found in primers, cards, and various books, 
 and all should be fair representations of the objects whose 
 ' corresponding words are to be learned. The word-objects 
 should at first consist of two or three letters only, none of 
 which should be silent, and should be such words as are ca- 
 pable of representation or demonstration, as bat, cat, hat, 
 up, on, in. The teacher may print the word upon the black- 
 board for the class, or it may be shown from a primer, card, 
 or chart. The primary methods should continue until the 
 pupil can read and print from memory any simple sentence 
 of monosyllables or dissyllables. 
 
 The following rules, derived from the principles of teach- 
 ing as advanced by Pestalozzi, may serve as a guide to many 
 young persons who desire to make teaching a profession. 
 
66 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 1. Never tell a child what he can discover for himself! 
 
 2. One difficulty at a time to overcome, and but one. 
 
 3. The measure of information is not what the teacher can 
 give, but what the child can receive. 
 
 4. Accustom the child to do. Educate the hand. 
 
 5. Develop an^idea, and then give the term. 
 
 C. Proceed from the known to the unknown, from the 
 particular to the general, from the concrete to the abstract, 
 from the simple to the more difficult. 
 
 Note. — Require the pupils to express themselves in com- 
 plete terms, leaving no part of a sentence to be understood ; 
 never accepting nods, yes or no, as replies. 
 
 ANALYTICAL OR OBJECTIVE METHODS. 
 
 The analytical or objective method takes the name "ob- 
 jective" from its dependence upon the use of objects to in- 
 troduce the lessons, and " analytical" because a word is first 
 learned as a whole, and then analyzed or reduced to its pri- 
 mary elements. 
 
 Each lesson of one word is arranged something like the 
 following plan ; then, when a sentence can be formed from 
 the words that have been thus learned, it should be done. 
 At first no letter should receive more than one sound. The 
 vowels should take their short sounds, afterward their long 
 sounds, the remaining ones last. 
 
 ORDER OF THE OBJECTIVE PLAN. 
 
 1st. Show a real object, or illustrate or demonstrate a word, " 
 and draw out its name, nature, qualities, parts, and uses. Be 
 sure to allow each pupil the opportunity to tell all he or she 
 connectedly can about the object, without prompting or ques- 
 tioning. If the class be large, divide the work, allowing A 
 to give its name and nature, B its qualities, C its parts, and 
 D its uses, in order to get through the work in the allotted 
 time. 
 
 2d. Show the class a picture (object) representing the real 
 object, and draw from the pupils the points of resemblance, 
 difference, etc. 
 
 3d. Show the class a word (object) representing the real 
 
PRIMAEY CLASS METHODS. 67 
 
 and picture objects. Draw out a description of the word as 
 to outline ; then require the pupils to discover and point out 
 duplicates of this word from the cards, charts, or books. Con- 
 tinue this exercise until the pupils can recognize the word 
 readily at sight. 
 
 4th. Require each pupil to produce sentences containing 
 the word of the lesson until the use of the word is perfectly 
 understood.* 
 
 5th. Print the word upon the board, and explain its sepa- 
 rate elements (letters or sounds) as to the formation of the 
 word — how the sounds are produced, whether with the lips, 
 tongue, teeth, or palate principally. Let each pupil copy 
 the letters (from memory) upon the blackboard or upon the 
 slate. Pronounce the word slowly, so that each element 
 can be distinguished singly; then increase in rapidity of 
 pronunciation. Reverse the time, and require the class to 
 follow in the phonic spelling. 
 
 6th. Combine words that have been learned into sen- 
 tences, and print them upon the board, requiring the class 
 to make out the sentences alone. 
 
 7th. Allow the pupils to select word-cards, and to com- 
 bine them so as to make sentences. If word-cards are not 
 in use, the pupils may be detailed in groups to reproduce a 
 whole sentence upon the board or upon their slates, and aft- 
 erward correct them, as in Nos. 5 and 6, page 68. 
 
 Note. — Before class -hour the teacher should select the 
 word or words which will constitute the lesson, and have 
 ready the necessary illustrations. If the words can be illus- 
 trated by the real object, in or out of doors, arrangement 
 should be made to do so. If it must be illustrated by other 
 means, preparation should be made that nothing be omitted 
 that will aid in giving a clear perception of the meaning and 
 use of the word. The words in, out, under, over, more, less, 
 etc., are words simple enough when developed by compari- 
 son, experiment, and reason. 
 
 * The teacher should not go too rapidly with these steps. Here is work 
 enough for weeks and months. The work of the fifth step may be post- 
 poned until many words are learned as sight-words, both in print and as 
 reproduced upon the slates and board. 
 
68 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Objects should be presented — 
 
 1st, to the senses, or perception. 
 
 2d, to the laws of memory. 
 
 3d, to the reflective or reasoning powers. 
 
 Ideas are developed — 
 1st, by appealing to the senses. 
 2d, by comparison. 
 3d, by experiment. 
 4th, by reason. 
 
 SYNTHETICAL METHODS. 
 There are three synthetical class methods : Memorizing 
 letters in selections of two, three, etc., which will make one 
 or more words ; memorizing letters in alphabetic order ; and 
 the phonic or phonetic method. 
 
 MEMORIZING LETTERS IN GROUPS OR SELECTIONS. 
 
 1st. Short vowels and a few consonants. 
 
 2d. Long vowels and a few consonants. 
 
 3d. Other vowel sounds and consonants. 
 
 This is a very good method, and is employed by many 
 excellent primary teachers. The lessons may be given in 
 about the following order, varying, of course, to suit the ma- 
 terial and apparatus at hand. 
 
 1st. Select two or three letters which, when joined, will 
 produce a word or words. 
 
 2d. Print the first of these letters sufficiently large upon 
 the blackboard to be seen by the entire class. 
 
 3d. Let the class give the sound of the letter ; its form 
 and resemblance to some familiar object. 
 
 4th. Detail the class in groups or divisions suited to the 
 size of the board, to reprint or copy the letter and give its 
 sound. 
 
 5th. Obtain criticisms from the class by comparing each 
 copy with the original printed letters, and have all errors 
 corrected by the pupil who made them. 
 
 6th. Let the class reproduce the letter upon their slates. 
 The teacher will examine the slates, and copy the mistakes 
 
PRIMARY CLASS METHODS. 69 
 
 upon the board for the class to correct. After correction, 
 the pupils should examine their respective slates, and note 
 how many errors are their own. The slate review should 
 be entirely from memory. 
 
 7th. Detail several to find the same or duplicate letters 
 among the letter-cards, upon the charts, or in books. 
 
 8th. When all the selected letters have been learned, put 
 them together to form words. 
 
 9th. Write or print the word upon the board, to be criti- 
 cised by class divisions as were the letters before. 
 
 10th. Let the word be reviewed upon the slate without a 
 copy, and criticised as was the former slate exercise. 
 
 11th. Require each pupil to originate a sentence contain- 
 ing the word. 
 
 12th. If the letters can be arranged so as to form another 
 simple word or words, it may be done at this point of the 
 lesson, and each of the words thus formed be treated as the 
 first word. 
 
 13 th. The class should be trained upon the sounds of tho 
 letters in succession, as arranged in the tabular view. 
 
 14th. Require the pupils to point out or mark the silent 
 letters in words. 
 
 15th. Sometimes the form can be impressed by uniting 
 instruction and amusement. Make the capital letters upon 
 the board ; then give each pupil two cuts of straw or sticks, 
 to make as many of these simple capitals as can be made 
 with two lines. When they have made L, T, V, X, give 
 each one more, and have A, E, F, H, I, K, N, Y, Z, and with 
 another add M and W. The remaining letters with curved 
 lines they will soon learn to make. 
 
 Card and Chart Lessons. 
 The following method of teaching selections of letters by 
 means of cards and charts alone has been so successfully 
 employed in teaching small classes, that it deserves a place 
 among the best methods of teaching primary reading. Give 
 each member of the class a letter-card, whispering its sound, 
 charging them to remember, but not to reveal to any one 
 else. When they have had time to memorize the shape, 
 
70 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 collect the cards, and call the class one by one to select 
 from the cards on the table the letter which they held, or 
 point out a similar one on the chart. When a child has 
 learned two letters that will make a word, as ox, give the 
 name of the word, then prefix b for box,/ for fox, etc. In 
 this way a great many words may be learned by changing 
 the initial or terminal letter. 
 
 When a number of letters are known by the whole class, 
 one may be sent to the chart to point out and name letters 
 that will make words, as s, a, t, sat ; h, a, t, hat ; b, a, t, bat ; 
 c, a, t, cat ; r, a, t, rat. Let the one at the chart spell in this 
 manner (by sound) as many words as he can ; the one, how- 
 ever, who first observes a mistake to supersede the one at 
 the chart. Another instructive amusement is to allow the 
 class to select letters from the cards or blocks that will 
 build words found upon the word-chart. 
 
 Memorizing Letters in Alphabetical Order. 
 This method is now entirely abandoned, other and better 
 methods having been adopted in its place. 
 
 PHONIC OR PHONETIC. 
 
 Phonetics, phonics, or phonology is the science of repre- 
 senting the elements of language. 
 
 A phonograph is a graphic or written sign, a distinct let- 
 ter to represent a unit of speech, and always one and the 
 same unit of speech or vocal sound. 
 
 Phonography is writing by phonographs, and is long or 
 short. 
 
 " Phonetic long-hand, or long-hand phonography, is writ- 
 ing produced with a phonetic alphabet, consisting of most 
 of the ordinary script letters, and additional ones of the 
 same general character for the additional sounds." 
 
 Stenography, or short-hand phonography, is a term ex- 
 pressing extreme brevity of word-signs founded on the pho- 
 nographic system of sounds and signs. 
 
 The phonic or phonetic method of teaching primary class- 
 es may be made analytical or synthetical, according to the 
 desire of the teacher. 
 
PRIMARY CLASS METHODS, 71 
 
 This method, although founded upon reason and common 
 sense, has as yet but indifferently succeeded. 
 
 It is based upon the principle that every distinct unit of 
 speech or elementary sound of a language should have a 
 corresponding sign. The English language is composed of 
 thirty-four or thirty-six sounds, and hence should have thir- 
 ty-four or thirty-six signs or letters to represent those sounds. 
 Then every word would be pronounced as it is spelled, and 
 spelled without silent letters. 
 
 In the phonic or phonetic method, pupils who have learn- 
 ed these corresponding sounds and signs will have no trouble 
 in pronouncing a word when seen in print, or spelling words 
 properly pronounced. 
 
 Phonography would save much time and labor when con- 
 trasted with the present English orthography, in which pro- 
 nunciation is learned orally or from the dictionary. 
 
 Some learned philologists object to the change, because, 
 in their opinion, the language would lose its etymology, 
 which is chiefly known from the spelling. But we could 
 not lose the origin of the words if the present orthography 
 were placed immediately after the words in the dictionaries ; 
 and this would add but one link more to the chain of ety- 
 mological study, while it would save time and labor for the 
 student. % 
 
 The nearest approach to a strictly phonetic method in el- 
 ementary instruction, consistent with accepted orthography 
 and the printed characters in common use, is the following, 
 which has been used and approved by some of our best 
 primary teachers. The teacher, taking a single word, as 
 map, brings out the oral elements, showing on the board 
 how each one is represented by printed characters. Let the 
 marks be those of some standard authority, using them with 
 such letters as represent more than one sound. 
 
 When these characters are learned so as to be read and 
 written, take another word with not more than one new 
 character, as n in man. Proceed in this manner, requiring 
 the pupil to write the characters for the sounds previously 
 given. As soon as enough characters are given to make 
 new familiar words, as with the above, we may make map 
 
12 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 and pan; let them be printed on the board, and copied by 
 the children for the next lesson. Continue thus with the 
 short sound of a in words of three letters; follow with the 
 short sounds of the other vowels in monosyllables having 
 no silent letters, then with the other sounds of the vowels, 
 until all the characters and elementary sounds are learned. 
 Silent letters may be marked with a line underneath. 
 
 Thus we have a complete phonetic system for learning to 
 read words. As soon as possible, omit the marks, and let 
 the letters and orthographic spelling be learned in connec- 
 tion with the phonetic. When words occur (like they) in 
 which the sounds are not represented by any marks given, 
 they may be spelled with the common letters, and the pro- 
 nunciation given with phonetic characters in parenthesis 
 (thd). To write sentences before the sounds can all be pre- 
 sented to the class, a few words may be printed on the 
 board, and learned as sight words. 
 
 See Introduction to Selections. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 73 
 
 TABLE NO. 24. 
 
 EEADING-CLASS FOKMULA * 
 
 I, PRELIMINARY EXERCISES. f (Time from one to five minutes.; 
 
 Vocal Gymnastics : 
 
 1. Pronouncing words. £ 
 
 2. Analyzing words, f 
 
 3. Phonic spelling. * 
 
 4. Learning some fact in elocution, or practicing the tables In 
 
 Orthophony. 
 
 Calisthenics or Gesture. (See page 76.) 
 
 II. SELECTIONS OR LITERARY PRODUCTIONS.* (To be read 
 according to any of the standard methods described on pages 
 78 to 81.) 
 
 I. REVIEWS. 
 
 Of the selections (page 89) : 
 
 1. The form and manner * (prose or poetry, etc., page 86, 89). 
 
 2. The thought or subject* (pastoral, historical, etc., page 86, 89). 
 
 3. The objects (their names, natural or artificial, etc.). 
 
 4. The incidents. 
 
 5. The meaning of words (technical or received). 
 
 6. The moral or the personal application. 
 Of the errors of pupils in — 
 
 1. Reading position. (See page 24.) 
 
 2. Articulation. (See pages 34 to 44.) 
 
 3. Pronunciation. (See pages 44 to 54.) 
 
 4. Phonic spelling. (See page 75.) 
 , Definition. (See note, page 75.) 
 
 C. Elocution (general or particular faults). 
 
 IV. PORTIONS OF COMPOSITION TO MEMORIZE.* (See page 
 86.) 
 
 EXAMINATION OF THE ADVANCE LESSON.* (See page. 87) 
 
 * This Formula can, by attention to the capacity of the pupils, be adapted to any 
 c!aBS*-ki reading that has mastered monosyllables. The younger classes should 
 receive drill in elocution, but not facts or rules, and the review should be sim- 
 plified. 
 
 t The preliminary exercises should not occupy more than five minutes in any 
 class ; and if the time for recitation be less than 20 minutes, then one or two minutes 
 only should be used. 
 
 t This sign is placed after such exercises, etc., in the Formula as can not well be 
 omitted. 
 
 D 
 
7 4 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE FORMULA. 
 
 I. PRELIMINARY EXERCISES. 
 
 The reading hour having arrived, the pupils sliould quiet* 
 ly put their desks in order, and repair to the recitation seats 
 with all necessary articles for the hour, as readers, slates, etc. 
 
 The preliminary exercises should not exceed five minutes' 
 duration in a primary or collegiate class, and if the exer- 
 cises are carried on briskly, as they should be, little or no 
 uneasiness will be manifested. 
 
 No. I. Pronouncing Words. 
 
 A list of such words as are most frequently mispronounced 
 or badly articulated in the class-room should be jotted down, 
 and a few of them pronounced each class-time to begin the 
 preliminary exercises. The class should repeat them in con* 
 cert after the models produced by the teacher. Let this be 
 done accurately and rapidly. These words may be placed 
 upon the upper corner of a blackboard, and new ones add' 
 ed, until a column is obtained for practice. The hardest 
 words in or over the lesson may be substituted for those 
 upon the blackboard. 
 
 Again, for variety, the pupils may alternate in pronounc- 
 ing words from the book or from the board, either in class- 
 divisions or with the teacher. 
 
 (Ex. of repetition.) Teach. Amidst', amidst\ Pupils. 
 Amidst 7 , amidst\ 
 
 (Ex. of alternation.) Class. Careless\ Lazy Pupils. List- 
 lessness\ 
 
 (Ex. of alternation.) Teach. Civility\ Class. Piety \ (See 
 Lists of Words, pages 41, 43.) 
 
 JVb. 2. Analyzing Words. 
 Words may be analyzed by syllable or by sound. To 
 analyze by syllable, first pronounce the whole word, then 
 repeat it, leaving off the first syllable ; repeat again, leav- 
 ing off the second syllable ; so continue until the last sylla- 
 ble. To analyze by sound, pronounce the whole word, and 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 
 
 repeat it, leaving off the first sound at each repetition, until 
 one sound remains alone. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 By Syllables. 
 
 By So 
 
 unds. 
 
 Com-mu-ni-ca-bil'i-ty. 
 
 Strangl'dst. 
 
 band. 
 
 -mu-ni-ca-biri-ty. 
 
 trangl'dst. 
 
 and. 
 
 -ni-ca-bil'i-ty. 
 
 rangl'dst. 
 
 nd. 
 
 -ca-bil'i-ty. 
 
 angFdst. 
 
 d. 
 
 -bil'i-ty. 
 
 ngl'dst. 
 
 Coughing.* 
 
 -i-ty. 
 
 gl'dst. 
 
 oughing. 
 
 -ty. 
 
 l'dst. 
 
 ghing. 
 
 Gov-ern-ment. 
 
 dst. 
 
 ing. 
 
 -ern-ment. 
 
 St. 
 
 ng. 
 
 -ment;. 
 
 t. 
 
 
 JVo. 3. Phonic Spelling. 
 
 It is not thought advisable to require orthographical spell- 
 ing in the reading hour,f but phonic spelling instead. The 
 teacher should pronounce a word, and the pupils repeat it 
 and spell it by sound in concert. In order to detect indi- 
 vidual errors, the words may be spelled by the pupils suc- 
 cessively. It is better, in phonic spelling, to mark the di- 
 vision of syllables by pauses instead of repetitions, as has 
 been our custom. The syllabic divisions will thus be re- 
 tained, and much valuable time saved. Of course the silent 
 letters are omitted in phonic spelling, and, if the teacher 
 finds it difficult to discover and produce the true sounds of 
 
 * If any silent letters occur in the word you wish to analyze, of course 
 you will omit them, since you are spelling by sound, and silent letters have 
 no sound. The pupils will do better to look at the teacher, while analyzing 
 by sound, than at the words. The accent should be retained throughout 
 each word, which is perhaps the most difficult part of the exercise. This 
 exercise is very important in developing a distinct and beautiful articulation. 
 You can not afford to omit it, though no more than two words can be ana- 
 lyzed at each lesson. 
 
 f Spelling by letter should be learned in spelling class, beginning soon aft- 
 er the child can read words at sight. The meaning of words come more 
 properly in connection with reading. Definitions, however, should not be 
 forced upon the memory of the young. 
 
76 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 a word, it is best to seek the correct pronunciation of the 
 word from the dictionary, then pronounce it very slowly, so 
 that the sounds appear to the ear as m — a — n (pronounced 
 slowly). 
 
 No. 4. Elocution. 
 
 GENERAL OR SPECIAL FACTS, FAULTS, AND DRILL. 
 
 It is proper at this point to give such instruction in the 
 science of speech as the teacher believes the class able to 
 comprehend and execute. There is drill suited to the small- 
 est pupils, and matter sufficiently difficult for seniors in col- 
 lege. Drill upon orthoepy, pitch, force, and time, should be 
 Introduced at this point, giving one fact at a time, with co- 
 pious illustrations. 
 
 Young pupils should be taught by actual example and 
 practice rather than by rules and theories. If a pupil has a 
 defect in, or peculiarity of speech, correct it if possible, and 
 do not forget to drill upon the elementary sounds of our 
 language. 
 
 No. 5. Calisthe?iics, or Gesture, etc. 
 
 A little exercise in calisthenics is next in order, and of 
 considerable importance. It quickens the blood, brightens 
 the eye, makes pliant and strong the muscles — in fac% gives 
 life and elasticity to the whole system. See Table No. 1 . 
 
 Avoid colds from drafts, and also violent exercise, like 
 pounding the chest. 
 
 Note 1. There has been well-grounded complaint of inju- 
 ries caused by physical training, and therefore the warning 
 is repeated. If the outward motions of the arms be strong, 
 and the return movements be made with relaxed muscles^ no 
 bruises can occur. It is severe and constant rigidity of mus- 
 cle that causes injury, and at the same time the exercises 
 lose in excellence and grace as they gain in severity. 
 
 Note 2. Sudden transitions from rest to violent exercise, 
 and the reverse, should be avoided. Begin with light exer- 
 cises, and let the most difficult ones come in the middle of 
 the lesson. 
 
 The exercises contained in this volume are not exj>ected 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 77 
 
 to supersede any good hygienic training, but for the benefit 
 of those teachers who have no method of physical training 
 at command, and for those students who desire special direc- 
 tions for self-culture. 
 
 Ventilation. 
 
 Begin all exercises in respiration, intonation, and calis- 
 thenics by giving free ingress to pure air. 
 
 The importance of ventilating school-rooms can not be too 
 strongly impressed upon teacher and pupil. 
 
 There is little danger of contracting colds during exer- 
 cise, even if windows and doors are partially opened in cold 
 weather, provided care be taken to close them when rest- 
 ing, and to throw some extra clothing about the person if 
 very warm. 
 
 The climate and condition of weather will of course gov- 
 ern the manner of ventilation, but a change of air you must 
 have to insure vigor of mind and body. 
 
 It is the teacher's duty to see that pupils, when warm, are 
 properly protected from air currents. 
 
 For exercises in calisthenics, see page 23 ; in intonation, 
 page 20; in gesture, page 101. 
 
 Rhythm of Movement or Time. 
 
 The exercises in calisthenics should be rhythmical — that 
 is, produced with regularly recurring accent ; and to render 
 it so requires an indication of quadruple time. This may be 
 accomplished in various ways. The first and most simple 
 means is counting. The accented or outward motion should 
 correspond with the odd numbers, and the unaccented or 
 inward motion with the even numbers. Thus: one, two; 
 three, four; five, six; seven, eight: one, two, etc. An- 
 other method is that of calling the unaccented syllable 
 "and." Thus: one and; two and; three and; four 
 and: one and ; two and, etc. 
 
 If the exercise be "thrusting" the hand should go out at 
 " one" and return to the body at " and;" go out again at 
 " two" and return at " and;" go out at " three" and return 
 at " and" etc. The odd number, or " and" represents the 
 
IS MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 return movement. Some persons make accented raps with 
 a stick, ruler, or cane to time the exercises, while those who 
 find it convenient adapt the exercises to music of the violin, 
 piano, or other instrument. 
 
 II. SELECTIONS. 
 
 The literary productions to be read after the preliminary 
 exercises should not be confined to the Reader, but should 
 be drawn from various sources — libraries, periodicals, and 
 papers.* 
 
 In using a reader, do not feel obliged to follow the com- 
 piler's arrangement of selections, but select to suit the time 
 and need. If the selections are from another source, they 
 should be examined by the teacher before being used, to see 
 that the matter is wholesome and instructive. (See Class 
 Methods, pages 79 to 85.) 
 
 Usually the selection should be given out a day or two 
 before it is to be read. Occasionally let the pupils select 
 the reading matter, giving them ample time to do so. The 
 selections should be short and interesting. 
 
 In this book are given ten standard and twenty-six occa- 
 sional methods for conducting reading-classes. The former 
 are called " standard" because better adapted to daily use 
 and wear well, while the latter are named "occasional meth- 
 ods" because suited to give variety by occasional use. Let 
 the occasional methods be used for rest, or holiday, or re- 
 wards of merit. In many schools the classes are too large 
 to do justice to them. In such cases the preliminary exer- 
 cises should be given as general exercises to the whole 
 school, or be cut down to one or two minutes. 
 
 Standard Methods. 
 Those particular reading-class methods that can be used 
 the longest without wearying, and have proven most effica- 
 cious in practice, are termed Standard Methods. Of these 
 there are ten, viz. : 
 
 * At this time many teachers are using periodicals in reading-classes. 
 Our Young Folks and The Nursery are admirably adapted to intermediate 
 and primary instruction, as are other magazines for older classes. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 79 
 
 I. Beginning back at each mistake. 
 
 Note, — Name a certain number of lines (perhaps three or 
 four) which each pupil may read, requiring the reader to be- 
 gin back at the beginning every time a mistake is made,* 
 until there are no longer errors for special criticism. This 
 method makes careful and accurate readers. 
 
 II. By competition, each reading the same stanza. 
 Note. — Allow each member of the class to read the same 
 
 stanza or division of prose, to see who will make the fewest 
 blunders in once reading. Impress the pupils with your de- 
 sire for their success, and this method will prove a good one. 
 
 III. By alternation of class divisions. 
 
 Note. — Divide the class into two or more sections, and re- 
 quest the pupils of each section to read in concert the suc- 
 cessive lines, couplets, or stanzas in the lesson. Section A 
 reads two lines, Section B the two following, etc. This keeps 
 all the class occupied and attentive. 
 
 IY. By couples. 
 
 Note. — Allow the pupils to read in couples (A and B to- 
 gether, C and D together, etc.) any division of composition, 
 as a sentence or a stanza, until all the class have read. Each 
 pupil can read in this manner twice as much as one could 
 singly, without materially hindering the teacher from de- 
 tecting individual errors. 
 
 V. Looking off as much as possible. 
 
 Note. — Let the class read in concert, by couples, or singly, 
 looking off the book as much as possible, in order to train 
 the eye to see ahead. Every person who is able to read 
 new or strange composition tcell must be able to see more 
 than the solitary word he is pronouncing. Choose simple 
 verse at first, that can be easily seen and retained. Try to 
 see the whole line at one glance. 
 
 This method adds materially to the grace of a reader by 
 giving the hearers frequent and continued expressions of 
 intelligence and emotion through eye and gesture. In this 
 way a person of quick comprehension and close memory can 
 render a written or printed discourse almost like extempo- 
 raneous matter or improvisation. 
 
 * See Errors of Speech, pages 34 and 37. 
 
80 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 VI. Repeating after the teacher. 
 
 Note, — The teacher reads a line or sentence, and the class 
 repeats the same in concert, copying the model, either with 
 closed books or with eyes upon the passages rendered. 
 Again the teacher reads, and the class repeats, and thus 
 continues to do until satisfied. If the teacher be a good 
 model, the class will gain much by imitation ; if not, then 
 the method is not so safe. 
 
 VII. Repeating after each member of the class. 
 
 Note. — In this method the pupils successively assume the 
 role of teacher: i. e. 9 A lines (reads line by line) a division 
 of prose matter or poetry, and the class repeats the same 
 line by line. Next B lines, and the class repeats. C and D 
 follow, until each member of the class has lined a portion of 
 the selection for the rest to repeat. This method keeps the 
 whole class at work, and renders many of them laudably 
 ambitious to become good models. (A line or couplet each, 
 and the class repeat,' is a variation of this methpd, keeping 
 the whole class busy.) 
 
 VIII. By alternation — class and teacher. 
 
 Note. — The teacher reads the line, couplet, or stanza, and 
 the class reads the next line, couplet, or stanza in concert. 
 In this method, if the teacher reads clearly and forcibly, 
 there is something contagious in it, and the class will do 
 better for the example and comparison. 
 
 IX. By call by number. 
 
 Note. — Number the pupils of the class, and call them by 
 these numbers in the succession in which you wish to hear 
 them read. The one who is reading should cease the in- 
 stant a new number is called by the teacher, even if in the 
 midst of a sentence, phrase, or word, and the one whose 
 number is called should commence immediately where the 
 last one left off. 
 
 If the new number fails to commence aright, call another; 
 if the place is still lost, call a third. Continue the exercise, 
 if possible, until all the numbers have been called and have 
 responded. There should be no talking or whispering dur- 
 ing this exercise, as it would create unendurable confusion. 
 
 It exercises the memory of teacher and pupils, in order 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 81 
 
 that the former may know what numbers have been called 
 and about how much each has read, and that the latter may 
 be able to rehearse any errors in the review. Indolent and 
 inattentive pupils should be called oftener, that they may 
 learn to keep pace and place. This method develops the 
 power of concentration. 
 
 X. Appoint a critic, or critics, whose business it is to point 
 out and correct errors of each pupil in turn as he or she has 
 finished reading a certain number of lines. 
 
 Note. — Appoint two critics, and name them "Critic No. 1" 
 and "Critic No. 2." Divide the selection into portions of 
 three lines each, in order that all may read, and request a 
 member of the class to commence reading. 
 
 When the three lines are read the reader ceases, and it is 
 the duty of Critic No. 1 to rise and enumerate and correct 
 each and every mistake that he or she has observed. When 
 done, Critic No. 2 rises, enumerates, and corrects all errors 
 that he observed which Critic No. 1 overlooked. 
 
 After the appointed critics are done, let the remainder of 
 the class signal any unmentioned error by raising the hand. 
 The teacher then points to the one who shall be heard first, 
 and all signaling the same mistake drop the hand; thus 
 continue until all errors noticed have been corrected. If 
 any errors remain unnoticed by the class, it is the teacher's 
 duty to correct or point them out. Recollect no criticisms 
 are to be repeated, and no one to speak but in order. This 
 method fixes the attention of the entire class, and renders 
 them critically observant during each exercise. 
 
 Occasional Methods. 
 
 I. Reading to a mistake judged by the teacher. 
 
 Note. — Let the class read in the usual order of succession, 
 each pupil stopping at the first error corrected by the teach- 
 er, and the next one in order correcting the mistake and read- 
 ing on until he also is corrected. The fault in this method is 
 that the best readers read longest, and those who need the 
 most training are comparatively inactive. 
 
 II. Reading to a mistake judged by a pupil, who corrects 
 the error, and proceeds to read from that point. 
 
 D2 
 
82 » MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Note. — This method is very like No. I., except that the 
 errors are discovered and indicated by the uplifted hands 
 of pupils. If more than one hand is raised, the teacher 
 points to or otherwise indicates which one is to read next. 
 That pupil corrects the mistake and continues to read until 
 another criticises and is appointed to read. This method 
 tends to render pupils attentive, careful, and critical. 
 
 III. Reading any where the Reader is opened. 
 
 Note. — Let each pupil, when about to read, first close the 
 book, then rise, open it, and read whatever his eye first rests 
 upon. If any member of the class is unable to catch both 
 words and meaning, the reader must repeat, reading over 
 and over again what he has attempted to read, until it is at 
 least clearly intelligible to all of the class. This method 
 makes intelligible readers. 
 
 IV. Reading medley. All read at once in different places. 
 Note. — In this method each pupil should have a book; 
 
 but if two must use one, let them read together. Arrange 
 the class in single or double lines, so that you can pass near 
 and speak or listen to a pupil at will. There should be at 
 least as many lines in the selected poem as there are pupils 
 in the class, and all lines equal in length. The best voices 
 should be placed at the head and foot of the class. No. 1 
 commences to read ; when he has finished one line, No. 2 
 begins at the first line ; when he has done the line, No. 3 
 begins at the first line, each one in the class following in the 
 same manner until the whole class are reading at once. 
 
 No two read the same line at the same time. No pupil 
 is to stop, after he has begun reading, until the poem is fin- 
 ished. The surest way to start this exercise, if the teacher 
 can endure the fatigue, is to pass from pupil to pupil, and 
 read the first line of the poem with each one in class ; then, 
 if no one stops prematurely, the w T hole class will be reading 
 when the teacher is through. 
 
 This method strengthens the voices of timid pupils who 
 are unable to let out their voices to the fullest extent alone. 
 It also renders pupils independent in recitation by the con- 
 centration necessary to read amid such a confusion of voices. 
 
 V. Reading two unlike pieces by alternation. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 83 
 
 Note. — Select two contrasting pieces, and let the class 
 read in concert a few lines of each, alternating from one to 
 the other. If one is grave and the other brisk, let the num- 
 ber of lines of the brisk piece be two to one of the slow or 
 grave piece. This method, as well as all other methods of 
 contrast, enhance the power of personation, the life of drama 
 or dialogue. 
 
 VI. Reading-match, choosing sides. 
 
 Note. — The teacher designates two of the class as leaders, 
 who choose readers for their respective sides precisely as 
 they used to do in " spelling down." The teacher may act 
 as umpire, deciding mistakes. The contestants stand fac- 
 ing each other, if convenient, and No. 1 commences reading. 
 When a mistake is observed, the umpire cries " Halt !" and 
 the reader takes his seat. After No. 1 of the first division 
 has read, No. 1 of the second division proceeds to read, and 
 continues till called by the umpire. In this way the class 
 is reduced until one remains alone. There is, however, the 
 same objection to this method that there is to No. I. and to 
 spelling down, both of which deprive the poorest pupils of 
 the most exercise. To give the poor readers equal drill, 
 this method can be conducted in the following manner : 
 
 Divide the selection into divisions of a certain number of 
 lines, and allow each pupil to read a division, keeping a tally 
 of the mistakes on each side, to compare when through the 
 exercise. 
 
 The reading-match is exciting, and of great service when 
 the class seems dull and listless. 
 
 VII. Reflection. " See thyself as others see thee." 
 Note. — In this method the teacher needs to bestow great 
 
 care, and have an almost intuitive perception of the emo- 
 tional nature of each pupil, otherwise grief, mortification, or 
 anger may be displayed during the exercise. But if the 
 teacher be kind-hearted and magnanimous, the pupils feel it, 
 and will bear a great deal. There should be no ridicule or 
 sarcasm in the mimicry, and then the looking-glass method 
 will prove safe and profitable. 
 
 First, then, begin with the bravest scholars in the class, 
 and not with those timid, shrinking ones who feel a lump in 
 
84 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 the throat whenever you speak to them. Tell them that you 
 intend to read after them line by line, and that you intend to 
 exaggerate their faults a little, so that they may see how they 
 appear to other people. Call for volunteers to begin with 5 
 and the chances are you will have hands enough raised to 
 select as you please. Take one of these brave ones aside, or 
 facing the class, if you please, and let them read a line, and 
 then imitate their manner and errors, if any. So continue 
 until a stanza or prose division has been reflected line by 
 line. If the class laugh, say, "Never mind ; we'll see who'll 
 laugh when your turn comes." Excuse this pupil, and call 
 another, and another, until each one in class has had a peep 
 in the glass — the faithful glass that, with hope to cure, por- 
 trays unconscious defects. 
 
 Many persons have mannerisms and faults of speech of 
 which they seem entirely unconscious. Convince one that 
 he is wrong, and there is hope of making him right. 
 
 VIII. Contrasting the pure with other qualities of voice. 
 Note. — Select a poem having decided rhythmical accent. 
 
 Read the successive stanzas, alternating the qualities of 
 voice. The pure tone should always be used as one of the 
 qualities in every contrast. (See Qualities of Voice, p. 126.) 
 
 IX. A word each. 
 
 X. A sentence each. 
 
 XI. To a punctuation mark. 
 
 XII. A line. \ 
 
 XIII. A couplet. >- Each in succession. 
 
 XIV. A stanza.- ) 
 
 Note. — In each of these similar methods each pupil reads 
 his allotted portion just as if he expected to continue read- 
 ing, keeping the voice up on the last word, where the stress 
 requires it, or letting it down. Herein lies the skill of these 
 methods. The pupils must be attentive to keep the place, 
 and should emphasize and accent &s if to go on reading. 
 
 XV. Alternate repetition, 
 
 Note. — A reads a line, B repeats it, C reads the succeeding 
 line, and D repeats it, etc. 
 
 XVI. Repeat and read a line each in succession. 
 Note.— A reads two lines; B repeats the last line that A 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 85 
 
 read, and one more ; C reads the last line that B read, and 
 one more, etc. Let each one leave off with the same inflec- 
 tion, emphasis, as if to continue. 
 
 XVII. Review and read an additional word each. 
 
 Note. — A reads the first word ; B reads the first and sec- 
 ond words ; C the first, second, and third ; D the first, sec- 
 ond, third, and fourth, etc. When the repetition is too 
 great, begin again. In prose composition six or eight lines 
 is quite enough. 
 
 XVIII. Review and read an additional line each. 
 Note. — This method is executed like XVII. 
 
 XIX. All who have read, repeat all that has been read, 
 and an additional word for each successive reader. 
 
 Note. — This method is similar to XVII. The whole class 
 unite in the repetitions. A reads the first word of a stanza ; 
 A and B read the first and second words of the stanza ; A, 
 B, and C read the first, second, and third words ; A, B, C, 
 and D read the first, second, third, and fourth words, etc., 
 until all the words of the stanza are read ; then begin anew 
 on the second stanza. 
 
 XX. is like XIX, except that lines take the place of words. 
 Note. — If the teacher wishes a whole class to learn a 
 
 poem, this is a quick and sure way to accomplish it. 
 
 XXI. Let a pupil be appointed, from time to time, to se- 
 lect and read an entire selection to the class. 
 
 XXII. Let the teacher bring a selection and read it to the 
 class for reproduction. 
 
 XXIII. Read from a periodical or other paper by passing 
 it from one to another, if there be but one copy. 
 
 Note. — This makes intelligent readers, as all must be made 
 to understand what is read before a reader is excused. 
 
 XXIV. Let the teacher read, making errors for the clasi 
 to observe and criticise. 
 
 XXV. Reading high and low in contrast. 
 
 XXVI. Reading fast and slow in contrast. 
 
 Note.— Read alternate lines in the XXVth, and, by alter- 
 nation, one line slow and two or three lines fast in the 
 XXVIth. The former increases the compass of voice, and 
 the latter helps regulate the speed of speech. 
 
86 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 in. reviews. (See Table 24.) 
 The review should begin by a careful description of the 
 selections which have been read. First, the form, subject, 
 or thought, objects, incidents, definitions, with the moral or 
 personal application. Second, the errors committed by the 
 pupils with regard to their reading position, articulation, 
 pronunciation, phonic spelling, definitions, technical and re- 
 ceived meaning of words, and elocution in general. 
 
 There are various ways of conducting the review, a few 
 of which will be explained in this chapter. First method. 
 Call on pupils, one by one, to give as full a review of all the 
 items and errors named above as possible, independent of all 
 prompting or questioning. Second method (adapted to large 
 classes or short recitations). Divide the items under the head 
 of review, and assign a portion to each pupil in class : ex. gr. 
 In this review, A may talk of the form of the composition 
 (see Table 24) ; B, of the subject or thought ; C, of the class 
 of poetry (whether epic, lyric, or dramatic) ; D, of the ob- 
 jects (whether natural or artificial, etc.) ; E, of the inci- 
 dents narrated ; and F, of the errors of the class, and so on. 
 After these subjects have been given, call upon A, and re- 
 quire a complete and uninterrupted explanation of the sub- 
 ject. Ask no question, and allow no prompting until the 
 pupil has finished and seated himself, or until the entire re- 
 view is formally ended. 
 
 IV. A LINE, COUPLET, OR STANZA TO MEMORIZE. 
 
 The advantage of this exercise is not easily calculated. It 
 stores the minds of pupils with the best thoughts of the 
 best authors, expressed in choicest language. It is a source 
 of enjoyment and means of entertainment during life. It 
 creates a taste for a high order of literature, and inspires 
 the young to seek noble companionship and to pursue lofty 
 ambitions. 
 
 As you value truth and beauty, do not neglect this exer- 
 cise. Choose judiciously, and give but a few lines each day, 
 and the result will amply reward you. 
 
 Those poems or selections best calculated to answer this 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 87 
 
 purpose are pure in tone and replete with reflections, inci- 
 dents, or examples of the cardinal virtues, faith, hope, pa- 
 tience, courage, generosity, gratitude, etc., etc.* 
 
 Suit the selections to the capacity of the learners by all 
 means, for one is heartily tired of hearing Cato's or Ham- 
 let's Soliloquy from children seven or eight years old. The 
 fault with two thirds of school exhibitions, rehearsals, am\ 
 even higher literary entertainments, is that the actors and 
 speakers affect pieces or themes beyond their comprehen- 
 sion. There are high-toned selections suited to every un- 
 derstanding, if but found in time, and treasured up for occa- 
 sions of need, f 
 
 ; V. EXAMINATION OP THE ADVANCE LESSON. 
 
 The lesson to be read at the next recitation should be 
 examined and the difficulties removed before any time is 
 wasted in erroneous study. It is certainly indispensable 
 with young classes who are unable to consult the dictionary 
 and reference books. 
 
 All the words should be properly pronounced before they 
 are committed. 
 
 Older classes should be directed where to look for informa- 
 tion desired, and thus be materially assisted without break- 
 ing the spirit of the first "Rule for Teachers" — "Never tell 
 a pupil what he can discover for himself." (Primary Meth- 
 ods, page QQ.) 
 
 * According to the ancients, the cardinal virtues are prudence, justice, 
 temperance, and fortitude. 
 
 t There is a school in New England where for a number of years the 
 pupils (over twelve years of age) have been required to commit forty lines 
 a day ; and, judging from the persons pursuing this course, it must be ac- 
 knowledged a successful mental discipline. The lines should be read only 
 once before an effort be made to recite them. This exercises the power of 
 concentration, and pupils trained to reproduce a composition from once read- 
 ing can readily give the substance of a lecture or sermon. 
 
88 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 r I. Subject or 
 Thought 
 
 TABLE NO. 25. COMPOSITION. 
 
 f 1. Pastoral. 
 
 2. Satirical. 
 
 3. Elegiacal. 
 
 4. Epigrammatical. 
 
 5. Philosophical. 
 
 6. Historical. 
 
 7. Moral. 
 
 8. Religious. 
 L9. Seutimeutal 
 
 Hi 
 
 tc. I 
 
 ( A. Manner or form 
 
 B. Divisions 
 
 Pathetic. 
 Patriotic. ' 
 Humorous, etc. 
 a. Letter, or Epistle. 
 
 
 a. Kinds 
 
 b. Essay. 
 
 c. Tract. 
 
 d. Treatise. 
 
 e. Lecture. 
 
 f. Sermon. 
 j*. Address, 
 'a. Sentence. 
 
 b. Verse. 
 
 c. Chapter. 
 
 d. Paragraph. 
 Section. 
 Blank verse. 
 Rhyme. 
 
 h. Oration, 
 i. Story, 
 j. Fable. 
 k. Parable. 
 1. Allegory, 
 m. Drama. 
 
 H 
 
 b. Metre, or measure by 
 feet 
 
 . Lines or 
 
 Vekses 
 
 c Divisions 
 or parts 
 
 a. Dissyllabic 
 (common time) 
 
 b. Trisyllabic 
 (triple time) 
 
 "a. as to the per- 
 
 "a. Trochee (— ^y. 
 
 b. Iambus (^ — ). 
 
 c. Spondee ( ). 
 
 d. Pyrrhic (- -). 
 
 a. Dactyl (- ~ ~). 
 
 b. Amphibrach (^ — ~). 
 
 e. Anapaest (y •*-- — ). 
 
 d. Amphimacer (— ^ — \ 
 
 e. Bacchius (^ ). 
 
 /. Antibacchius ( ~). 
 
 a. Tribrach (^ ~ w). 
 
 Ji. Molossus ( ). 
 
 fa. Catalectic. 
 
 b. as to length 
 by feet 
 
 Acatalectic. 
 Section of feet \ c. Hypercatalectic or 
 hypermeter. 
 "a. Monometer (one ft.). 
 b. Dimeter (two ft.). 
 e. Trimeter (three ft.). 
 
 d. Tetrameter (four ft.). 
 
 e. Pentameter (five ft.). 
 /. Hexameter (six ft.). 
 g. Heptameter(seven ft.), 
 
 ^h. Octameter (eight ft.). 
 
 B. Manner or form 
 
 b. Couplets *| 
 
 iQ^tartDif 1 "^" Averse, 
 e. Stanzas J 
 
 \ In dramatic poetry. 
 
 (heroic, hexameter). Essays, etc, 
 
 f. Scenes 
 4*. Acts 
 ■a. Epic 
 
 b. Lyric 
 
 Lc. Dramatic 
 
 /. Sonnet. 
 g. Song. 
 h. Epigram. 
 i. Roundelay. 
 j. Madrigal. 
 
 fa. Ode. 
 b. Hymn. 
 I c. Psalm. 
 
 d. Lay. 
 I e. Ballad, 
 [a. Tragedy. 
 
 b. Comedy. 
 I c. Tragi-comedy. 
 ] d. Farce. 
 
 e. Opera and Burletta. 
 1./. Melodrama. 
 
 Didactic, descriptive, narrative. See Note, page 1. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 89 
 
 LITEEAKY COMPOSITION.* 
 
 A composition is a written or literary work, and may be 
 prose or poetry. 
 
 < The subject or thought of a composition may be pas'toral, 
 satirical, ele'giacal, epigrammat'ical/philosoph'ical, historic- 
 al, mor'al, relig'ious, sentimental, etc. 
 
 1. Pastoral. Descriptive of country life. 
 
 2. Satirical. Exposing or censuring human weakness or 
 folly ; full of satire or invective ; as, Byron's " English Bards 
 and Scotch Reviewers." 
 
 3. Elegiacal. Expressive of sorrow or lamentation ; fune- 
 real, mournful, pertaining to sad reflection ; as, Gray's "El- 
 egy in a Country Church-yard." 
 
 4. Epigrammatical. Short and witty ; ending with a turn 
 or point of wit, concise, poignant. 
 
 5. Philosophical. Pertaining to or proceeding from phi- 
 losophy, physics*, metaphysics (natural or mental philosophy, 
 psychology, philology, etc.). 
 
 6. Historical. Pertaining to that which exists or has ex- 
 isted ; containing history. Biographical : a species of his- , 
 torical writing which gives an account of the life and char- 
 acter of some particular person ; when such an account has 
 been written by the person in question, it is called autobio- 
 graphical. 
 
 7. Moral. Relating to duty or obligation ; pertaining to 
 the conduct or manners of men, as social beings, in relation 
 to each other as respects right and wrong ; not depending 
 on human laws, bi\t conscience. 
 
 8. Religious. Teaching or setting forth religion. 
 
 * Composition is sometimes called didactic — giving instruction, teaching ; 
 sometimes descriptive — having the quality of representing, describing; and 
 sometimes narrative — relating to the particulars of an event or transaction ; 
 a particular and continued account of any thing. 
 
 These pages are added to assist in reviewing the selections. (See Class 
 Methods, page 85.) 
 
90 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 9. Sentimental. Abounding in sentiments or reflections ; 
 with thoughts prompted by passion or feeling. Pathetic, 
 patriotic, and humorous productions belong to this class. 
 
 (a.) Pathetic. Affecting or moving the tender emotions, 
 as grief, pity. 
 
 (b.) Patriotic. Actuated or prompted by the love of one's 
 country. 
 
 (c.) Humorous. Full of humor; playful; exciting laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 Prose is discourse or composition not metrical; i. &, not 
 in verse, or without poetic measure. 
 
 I. Form or Manner. 
 In form or manner it may be a letter or epistle, an essay, 
 tract, treatise, lecture, sermon, address, oration, story, fable, 
 parable, allegory, or drama. 
 
 1. A letter or epistle is a written or printed message; a 
 short communication with regard to friendship, business, 
 science, or belles-lettres.* 
 
 2. An essay is a short composition or informal treatise 
 upon any particular subject ; as, Bacon's " Essays." 
 
 3. A tract is a short written or printed discourse or treat- 
 ise, usually on practical religion ; as, " A Call to Prayer." 
 
 4. A treatise is a composition explaining or discussing any 
 particular subject, and is longer, more studied, and method- 
 ical than an essay ; as, Wilson's " Treatise on Punctuation." 
 
 5. A lecture is a formal or methodical discourse upon any 
 subject (moral, social, scientific, philosophical, etc.), and is 
 intended for instruction ; as, " Lectures on Anatomy." 
 
 6. A sermon is a religious discourse, to be delivered from 
 the pulpit or to a congregation; as, Christ's "Sermon on the 
 Moubt." 
 
 * Letters of friendship include those of condolence, congratulation, in- 
 quiry, explanation, advice, etc. Letters of business and law are letters of 
 administration, of attorney, of credit, of license, of marque, of marque and 
 reprisal, letters close, letters patent, overt, or open, etc. (See Quarto Dic- 
 tionary.) - 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 91 
 
 7. An address is a formal speech or message of respect, 
 congratulation, thanks, petition, etc.; as, Lincoln's "Inaugu- 
 ral Address." 
 
 8. An oration is an elaborate discourse or speech in writ- 
 ing which has been spoken, or is proposed to be spoken on 
 some special occasion, as a funeral, celebration, or anniver- 
 sary; as, Antony's "Oration over the Body of Caesar," Web- 
 ster's " Oration at the Laying of the Corner-stone of Bunker 
 Hill Monument." 
 
 9. A story is a narrative or recital, and more especially a 
 fictitious narrative, less elaborate than a novel ; as, " The 
 Story of Ruth." 
 
 10. A fable is a fictitious story or tale intended to enforce 
 some useful truth or precept ; as, "The Fable of the Fox and 
 the Grapes" 
 
 11. A parable is a fable of something in real life or nature 
 from which a moral i$ drawn for instruction ; as, "The Par- 
 able of the Vineyard," "The Parable of the Tares." 
 
 12. An allegory is a figurative application of real facts ; a 
 sentence or discourse in which the principal subject is de- 
 scribed by another subject resembling it in its qualities, 
 properties, and circumstances ; as, Bunyan's " Pilgrim's 
 Progress."* 
 
 II. Divisiojis. 
 The divisions of prose composition are sentences, verses, 
 chapters, paragraphs, sections, etc. 
 
 1. A sentence is an assemblage of words logically and 
 grammatically joined so as to make complete sense; as, 
 "Insincerity is very troublesome to manage." — Tillotson. 
 
 2. A verfce, in prose, is a short division of composition,' as 
 a verse in the Bible. " Blessed are the merciful, for they 
 shall obtain mercy." — Matt, v., 1. 
 
 3. A chapter is a division of a book or treatise, as a chap- 
 ter in the Bible. 
 
 4. A paragraph is a distinct part of a discourse or chapter, 
 
 * A parable must be literally possible, while an allegory may not. The 
 story of the vineyard could be literally true, but when Christ says, "I am 
 the vine," the expression is allegorical. 
 
92 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 relating to a particular subject, and comprises one or more 
 sentences. It is indicated by a break in the text, or the 
 commencement of a new line begun farther from the margin 
 than the other lines, and formally by the sign (%) placed at 
 or before it. 
 
 5. A section is a distinct portion of a book, writing, or dis- 
 course, and may be more or less than a chapter. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Poetry is metrical composition " produced and embellished 
 more or less by a creative imagination, the end of which is 
 to afford intellectual pleasure by exciting elevated, agreea- 
 ble, or pathetic emotions." — Worcester. 
 
 In its accepted sense/poetry may be blank verse or rhyme. 
 
 1 . Blank verse is metrical composition without rhyme. It 
 is usually the heroic verse of five feet without rhyme. 
 
 Example ; 
 
 1 ' From the vale 
 v Of cold oblivion comes the breathing throng 
 Up to the paths of life, and, one by one, 
 Strive to unravel with their feeble hands 
 Existence' tangled knot, but find no clew, 
 And, wearied with the fruitless toil, sink back, 
 And darkness closes o'er them. " — Mrs. Arey. 
 
 2. Rhyme is the correspondence of sound in the last sylla* 
 ble or syllables of two lines or verses of poetry, in immediate 
 succession or close proximity. Poetry possessing such ter- 
 minal sound is called rhyme. 
 
 Rhymes may consist of single syllables, as blind, find; 
 of two syllables, as sound' ing, bound' ing ; of three sylla- 
 bles, as beau'teous, du'teous ; of four syllables, as quiv'er- 
 ingly, shiv'eringly* 
 
 Example of successive Rhyme: 
 
 "The smile is the bud of the full-blown laughter, 
 The bud comes first and the bloom comes after ; 
 Down in the heart there's a genius lingers, 
 With feathery ends to his tickling fingers." — Ganyard. 
 
 * To constitute rhyme, the vowels, or, in case of double rhymes, the ac- 
 cented vowels, must be identical, and so must the sounds following these 
 vowels, but the consonants preceding' them in the same syllable must be 
 different. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 93 
 
 Example of alternate Rhyme : 
 
 " The twilight hours like birds flew by, 
 As lightly and as free ; 
 Ten thousand stars were in the sky, 
 
 Ten thousand in the sea ; 
 And every wave with dimpled face 
 
 That leaped up in ftie air, 
 Had caught a star in its embrace, 
 And held it trembling there." — Clark. 
 
 Example of irregular Rhyme : 
 
 "And brushing ankle-deep in flowers, 
 He heard behind the woodbine veil 
 The milk that bubbled in the pail, 
 And buzzing of the honeyed hours." — Tennyson. 
 
 Versification {Metre or Measure). 
 
 -Versification is the art of constructing metrical composi- 
 tion, or poetry. This art lies in the harmonious arrange- 
 ment of a certain number of long and short, or of accented 
 and unaccented syllables. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans based their versification chiefly 
 upon quantity. In their language, the length and brevity 
 of syllables were so fixed and uniform in pronunciation that 
 one long syllable was equal to two short ones. This gave 
 license to as many as seventeen, and to no less than thirteen 
 syllables in a line of hexameter, which, in musical time, was 
 equal to twelve long syllables. In order to ascertain the 
 exact time of verse, and the proper combinations of long 
 and short quantities or syllables, a metre or measure was 
 instituted, called a metrical foot. A line of hexameter must 
 contain six of these feet. (See Epic Ver«e, p. 97.) 
 
 Modern poetry is measured by time and accentuation, 
 which produce greater rhythmical effect than did the quan- 
 tity in the Greek and Latin. 
 
 Metrical feet were dissyllabic or trisyllabic divisions of a 
 line of poetry. A dissyllabic division consists of two sylla- 
 bles or their equivalent, the time being quadruple. A tri- 
 syllabic division consists of three syllables or their equiva- 
 lent, the time being triple. 
 
 There are- four species of dissyllabic feet, namely — 
 
 1. Trochee, the first syllable accented; as, heed'Icss. 
 
94 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 2. Iambus, the second syllable accented ; as, inspiEE f . 
 
 3. Spondee, both syllables accented ; as, a 'men'. 
 
 4. Pyrrhic, both syllables unaccented ; as, ible, in risible. 
 There are eight species of trisyllabic feet, namely — 
 
 1. Dactyl, the first syllable accented; as, ciiEEK'fully. 
 
 2. Amphibrach, the second syllable accented ; as, reLuc'- 
 tant. 
 
 3. Anapaest, the third syllable accented ; as, imporTUNE'. 
 
 4. Amphimacer, with the accent on the first and third 
 syllables ; as, constant love'. 
 
 5. Bacchius, with the accent on the second and third syl- 
 lables; as, the man'-child'. 
 
 6. Antibacchius, with the accent on the first and second 
 syllables ; as, STRONG'MiND'ed. 
 
 7. Tribrach, three equal and unaccented syllables. 
 
 8. Molossus, three equal and accented syllables ; as, 
 
 FAITH, HOPE, LOVE. 
 
 It is no easy task to find English examples of these Greek 
 and Latin feet. The pyrrhic and tribrach can not be prop- 
 erly represented. The most common of these species are 
 the trochee, iambus, anapaest, and dactyl. 
 
 C Trochee.) Tell' me | not' in | mourn'M | NUM'bers, | 
 "Life' is | but' an | EMp'ty | dream' !" 
 For' the | soul' is | dead' that | SLUM'bers, | 
 And' things | are' not | what' they | seem'. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 Clambus.) When free'] dom from' | her Mountain height' | 
 UnFURL'cT | her stand' |ard to' | the air', | 
 She tore' I the Az'jure robe' | of night', | 
 And set' J the stars' | of GLo'|ry there'. | — Drake. 
 
 (Anajpcest.) 'Tis the last' | rose of suM'|mer, left BLOOM'|ing aLONE'; | 
 All her LOVE'|ly comPAN'|ions are FA'|ded and gone'; | 
 No flower' I of her KiN'|dred, no ROSE'|bud is nigh', | 
 To reFLECT' | back her blush' |es, or give' | sigh for sigh'. | 
 
 Moore. 
 {Dactyl.) Bird' of the | wiL'derness, | j 
 
 BLiTHE'some and | cuM'berless, | 
 Sweet' be thy | MA'tin o'er | MOOR'land and | lea' ! 
 EM'blem of | «Ap'piness, | 
 Blest' is thy | dwell' ing-place : | 
 O' to aJBiDE' in the I DEs'ert with | thee' ! — James Hogg. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 95 
 
 Metrical Feet. 
 
 (T , . (TRo'chee | trips' from | long' to | short ; 
 V roc ee.) <^ rom j ong to i ong m so i emn sor t. 
 
 (Spondee.) Slow' Spon'|dee' stalks'; | strong' foot' ! | yet ill abla 
 (Dactyl.) Ev'er to | come' up with | DAc'tyl tri|sYL'lable. 
 (Iambic.) jAM'|bics march' | from short' | to long', | 
 (Anapcests.) With a leap' | and a bound' | the swift Anapaests throng'. | 
 (Am.ph.i- (One SYL'la]ble long', with | one short' at | each side', 
 brack.) (AmPHi'brach|ys hastes' with | a STATE'ly | stride. 
 
 1 First and last | BE'ing long', | MiD'dle short' | AM'phiMA'-l 
 cer, 
 Strikes' his THUN'|DER'ing hoofs' | like' a proud' | high'- 
 bred RA'|cer. — Coleridge. 
 
 Divisions of Verse. 
 
 The divisions common to verse are lines or verses, coup- 
 lets, triplets, quatrains, and stanzas, in epic or lyric poetry ; 
 acts and scenes in dramatic poetry. 
 
 A line or verse of poetry consists of a certain arrange- 
 ment of long and short, or accented and unaccented sylla- 
 bles, according to established rules; a measured line of 
 poetry, as, 
 
 " Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth." — Osgood. 
 In scanning, or applying the measure of feet to a verse, 
 if a line is found wanting a syllable, it is said to be cata- 
 lectic ; if the number of syllables is exact and proper, acat- 
 alectic ; if redundant in syllables, hypercatalectic or hyper- 
 meter. 
 (Catalectic.) Slack'en not | sail' yet, at | in'let or | isl'and; | 
 
 Straight' for the | bea'con steer, | straight' for the | highland. | 
 
 Mrs. Southey. 
 (Acatalectic.) Thy sports' | are fled,' | and all' | thy charms' | withdrawn'. | 
 
 s Goldsmith. 
 
 (Hypercatalectic.) Full ma'|ny a gem' | of pur' | est ray' | serene,' | 
 
 The dark,' | unfath'|omed caves' | of o'jcean bear'. | 
 
 Gray. 
 
 A line of poetry is also known by the number of feet it 
 contains. A line of one foot is called monometer; of two, 
 dimeter ; of three, trimeter ; of four, tetrameter ; of five, 
 pentameter ; of six, hexameter ; and of eight, octameter. 
 
96 MANUAL OF BEADING, 
 
 (Monometer.) "There we go, 
 
 To and fro, 
 With our knacks 
 At our backs." — Chalkhill. 
 
 (Dimeter.) "Alas! for the | rarity 
 
 Of Christian | charity 
 Under the sun !" — Hood. 
 
 ( Trimeter.) " Thou high | and ho]ly One, | 
 
 Whose care | for sire | and son | 
 
 All nature fills — 
 While day | shall break | and close, | 
 While night | her cres|cent shows, | 
 O let | Thy light | repose | 
 
 On these our hills !" — Pierpont. 
 
 (Tetrameter.) "Labor is | rest from the | sorrows that | greet us ; | 
 Rest from all | petty vex|ations that | greet us ; | 
 Rest from sin- | promptings that | ever en | treat us ; | 
 Rest from world | sirens that | lure us to | ill." — Osgood. 
 (Pentameter.) "What stronger breast-]plate than | a heart | untainted." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 (Hexameter.) "I wan|der with | the waves, | and with | them rise | and fall." | 
 
 Whittier. 
 (Heptameter.) " Now glo]ry to | the Lord | of Hosts, | from whom | all glo-] 
 ries are." | — Macaulay. 
 
 (Octameter.) "Hear the | bells from | bluff and | prairie, | through the | hush 
 of | Sabbath | air."— E. D. Proctor. 
 
 A couplet consists of two lines of rhyme. 
 
 "Keep cool ; don't strive for sudden wealth too fast ; 
 Fortunes quick made are seldom known to last." — S. A. Dix. 
 
 A triplet consists of three lines or verses rhyming together. 
 " Up from the earth curled leaves were coming, 
 Bees in the morning sunshine humming, 
 Away in the woods the partridge drumming." — Alice Carey. 
 
 A quatrain consists of four lines of poetry with alternate 
 rhyme (the first line rhyming with the third, and the second 
 with the fourth), and sometimes mixed rhyme (the first rhym- 
 ing with the fourth, and the second with the third). 
 
 Alternate-rhymed Quatrains : 
 1 ' Be kind when you can in the smallest of duties ; 
 Don't wait for the larger expressions of love, 
 For the heart depends less, for its joys and its beauties, 
 
 On the flight of the eagle than coo of the dove." — Eliza Cook. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 97 
 
 A stanza is a distinct division of poetry, composed of r. 
 certain number of adjusted verses or lines, as 
 
 "When ranting round in pleasure's ring, 
 
 Religion may be blinded ; 
 Or, if she gie a random sting, 
 
 It may be little minded ; 
 But when on life we're tempest-driven, 
 
 A conscience but a canker, 
 A correspondence fixed wi' heaven 
 
 Is sure a noble anchor." — Burns. 
 
 Form or Manner. 
 As to form or manner, all poetry is epic, lyric, or dramatic. 
 
 Epic poetry is of the narrative kind, and details external 
 circumstances and events. It is sometimes called heroic 
 verse, because it is used in narrating heroic actions and ex- 
 ploits. 
 
 In English, German, and Italian, this verse is iambic often 
 syllables (five feet) ; in French it is iambic of twelve sylla- 
 bles (six feet) ; and in classic poetry it is hexameter, or verse 
 consisting of six feet, equivalent to twelve syllables. Iambic 
 of twelve syllables is also called Alexandrine, from an old 
 poem written in French on the life of Alexander. The first 
 four feet in a line of heroic or hexameter may be dactyls 
 or spondees ; the fifth must be a dactyl, and the sixth a 
 spondee. " 
 
 "A needless Alexandrine ends the song, 
 
 That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. " — Pope. 
 " Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, 
 The positive pronounce without delay ; 
 Without the means of knowing right from wrong, 
 They always are decisive, clear, and strong."— CowrER. 
 
 Lyric poetry expresses internal emotions and thoughts, 
 and was originally confined to such verse as was sung, or 
 adapted to musical recitation, accompanied by the lyre or 
 harp. 
 
 There are a variety of lyric compositions, differing some- 
 what in their uses, length, etc. The most prominent are 
 
 E 
 
98 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 the ode, hymn, psalm, lay, ballad, sonnet, song, epigram, and 
 roundelay. 
 
 1. An ode is a short song or poem. In the modern sense 
 of the word, "the ode appears to be distinguished by greater 
 length and variety, and by not being necessarily adapted to 
 music. It is distinguished from the ballad and other species 
 of lyric poetry by being confined to the expression of senti- 
 ment or of imaginative thought on a subject not admitting 
 of narrative except incidentally." — Brande. As, Collins's 
 " Ode on the Passions." 
 
 Odes are sacred, as in hymns and psalms ; heroic, when 
 praising heroes, martial exploits, or heroic deeds ; moral and 
 philosophical, as in odes on virtue, friendship, or humanity. 
 
 2. A hymn is a song of praise, adoration, or thanksgiving ; 
 as, Milton's "Hymn on the Nativity." 
 
 3. A psalm is a sacred or holy song ; a poem for praise or 
 worship to God ; as, the Psalms of David. 
 
 4. A lay is an ancient elegiac kind of French lyric poetry; 
 a species of narrative poetry among the ancient minstrels; 
 as, "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Scott. 
 
 5. A ballad is a popular narrative song, often of a senti- 
 mental kind, written in simple, homely verse; as, "The Bal- 
 lad of the Hours," by Longfellow. 
 
 6. A sonnet is a short poem — especially a short poem 
 consisting of fourteen lines, comprising two quatrains and 
 two tercets, the lines being adjusted by a particular rule; 
 as, Shakspeare's Sonnets. 
 
 7. A song is a short poem fitted to be sung ; as, Byron's 
 "Song of the Greek Poet." 
 
 8. "An epigram is a short poem treating only of one 
 thing, and ending with some lively, ingenious, and natural 
 thought. Epigrams were originally inscriptions on tombs, 
 statues, temples, triumphal arches, etc." — Webster. 
 
 9. "A roundelay is an ancient poem consisting of thirteen 
 verses, of which eight are in one kind of rhyme and five in 
 another. It is divided into couplets, at the end of the sec- 
 ond and third of which the beginning of the poem is repeat- 
 ed, and that, if possible, in an equivocal or punning sense." 
 — Webster. 
 
ADVANCED CLASS METHODS. 99 
 
 10. "A madrigal is a little amorous poem, sometimes called 
 a pastoral poem, not confined to the scrupulous regularity of 
 a sonnet or the subtlety of the epigram, but containing some 
 tender and delicate, though simple thought." — Webster. 
 
 Dramatic composition is that form or manner of poetry 
 which is adapted to scenic representation. The species of 
 this kind of composition are tragedy, comedy, tragi-comedy, 
 farce, opera, burletta, and melodrama. 
 
 1. Tragedy represents the virtues, crimes, and sufferings 
 of human beings in such a manner as to excite pity, indig- 
 nation, grief, or horror; as, Shakspeare's "Julius Caesar," 
 Otway's " Venice Preserved." 
 
 2. Comedy represents the humors, follies, or pleasures of 
 mankind ; as, Shakspeare's " Merry Wives of Windsor." 
 
 3. Tragi-comedy is a representation of mingled tragedy 
 and comedy; as, Shakspeare's "Much Ado about Nothing." 
 
 4. Farce is a brief dramatic representation of ludicrous 
 qualities highly exaggerated. It frequently consists of one 
 or two acts, and never more than three. " Farce is that in 
 poetry which grotesque is in a picture." — Dryden. 
 
 5. Opera is the words of a musical drama. It consists of 
 airs, choruses, etc., accompanied with instruments, and en- 
 riched with magnificent scenery and other decorations, to 
 represent some passionate action ; as, " II Trovatore." 
 
 6. Burletta is a comic or farcical opera ; as, " Hiawatha" 
 (an operatic burlesque on the poem by that name). 
 
 7. Melodrama is a drama "in which songs are intermixed, 
 and effect is sought by startling, exaggerated, or unnatural 
 sentiment or situation." — Webster. 
 
 A full dramatic composition (a drama, opera, or the like) 
 is divided into five parts, each of which is called an act. 
 These acts are subdivided into parts called scenes. 
 
 A scene "is so much of a play as passes without change of 
 locality or time, or important change of character; a subdi- 
 vision of an act." — Webster. 
 
 An act is " one of the larger or principal divisions of a 
 play or other dramatic work, in which a certain definite 
 part of the action is comnleted." — Webster. 
 
100 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABULAR VIEW, NO. 26. GESTURE.* 
 
 fl. Feet 
 
 2. Head < 
 
 3. Eyes - 
 
 Obbtube* 
 
 Special* - 
 
 f I. Position "'l 
 
 II. Motion 
 , III. Manner >of 
 
 IV. Direction 
 I etc. J 
 
 1. Parrying. 
 
 2. Thrusting. 
 
 3. Aiming. 
 
 4. Striking. 
 
 5. Waving. 
 
 6. Mowing. 
 
 7. Beckoning. 
 
 8. Repressing. 
 
 9. Advancing. 
 
 10. Springing. 
 
 11. Pressing. 
 
 12. Retracting. 
 
 13. Rejecting. 
 
 14. Bending. 
 
 15. Shaking. 
 
 16. Throwing. 
 IT. Sweep. 
 18. Flourish, 
 
 etc. 
 
 Std. Standing { M mtTr^or Gymnaeiurn. 
 'a. Advance. 
 
 r. Retire. 
 
 tr. Traverse. 
 Stp. Stepping \ c. Cross. 
 
 st. Start. 
 
 sp. Stamp. 
 
 jsk. Shock. 
 ^Kn. Kneeling. " 
 r E. Erect. 
 I. Inclined. 
 S. Aside. 
 As. Assenting. 
 De. Denying. 
 Sh. Shaking. 
 Ts. Tossing. 
 ^D. Downward. % 
 
 U. Upward. 
 F. Forward. 
 A. Averted. 
 R. Around. 
 Rl. Rolling. 
 St. Staring. 
 Gl. Glaring. 
 „V. Vacancy. 
 
 (1. Descending 
 , Apart -{ 2. Horizontal 
 
 4. Arms 
 
 .5. Hands 
 
 [3. Ascending 
 
 I One. 
 fBotl* 
 
 Lb. Combined 
 
 "a. Apart ^ 
 
 Palm 
 
 One. 
 Botbu 
 
 ^Fingers 
 
 b. Combined 
 
 wrtrK^h-"- 
 
 'c. Across 
 /. Front 
 q. Oblique 
 x. Extended 
 > b. BackwardJ 
 'en. Encumbered. 
 ' rp. Reposed. 
 km. Akimbo^ 
 s. Supine 
 p. Prone 
 v. Vertical 
 n. Inward 
 ■j). Outward 
 n. Natural 
 x. Extended 
 c. Clenched 
 I. Collected 
 i. Index 
 h. Holding 
 io. Hollow 
 g. Grasping 
 m. Thumb 
 'sp. Clasped.' 
 ap. Applied. 
 Id. Folded. 
 cr. Crossed. 
 nu. Enumerating. 
 th. Touching. 
 wr. Wringing. 
 pt. Patting. 
 cp. Clapping. 
 rb. Rubbing and 
 washing. 
 ' Brow. 
 
 Eyes. 
 
 Chin. 
 
 Ear. 
 
 Nose,lips,breast, 
 etc. 
 
 * The abbreviations for gesture conform with those found in other works, so as to 
 avoid confusion. 
 
PART III. 
 GESTURE. 
 
 Gesture is visible expression independent of vocality. In 
 oratory it includes posture, gesticulation, and facial expres- 
 sion. By gesture the condition or emotion of mind, as joy, 
 sorrow, pain, revenge, hope, and despair, is plainly revealed 
 and universally understood. It is a voluntary or involun- 
 tary common language ; voluntary when the outward signs 
 are subject to the will, and involuntary when unassisted or 
 uncontrolled by the will. 
 
 1. Posture may be defined as the position, attitude, or dis- 
 position of the human figure when motionless or at rest ; as 
 a recumbent attitude, a sitting posture, a stooping position, 
 an attitude of defiance. 
 
 2. Gesticulation is the movement of the body or limbs ; 
 as bowing, pointing, fencing. It includes speed, manner, and 
 direction of movement. 
 
 The movement as to speed may be rapid, moderate, or 
 slow ; as to manner, direct or rotary, single or double ; and 
 as to direction, descending, horizontal, or ascending; across, 
 front, oblique, extended, or backward. 
 
 The manner is direct when the climax of gesture is at- 
 tained in a straight line, and rotary when attained through 
 a curved line. It is single when one hand or arm is em- 
 ployed in the action, and double when both are employed 
 in the action. 
 
 Feet 
 The movement of the feet may be described as, 
 
 1. Advancing — stepping forward. 
 
 2. Retiring — stepping back. 
 
 3. Traversing — stepping to the right and left of the orig- 
 inal position. 
 
l/J'2 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 4. Starting — suddenly jumping up as if frightened. 
 
 5. Stamping — lifting and forcibly returning a foot to ths 
 floor. 
 
 Head. 
 
 The head also is expressive in position and motion : 
 
 1 . Erect, it indicates dignity, confidence, courage, honor. 
 
 2. Thrown back — pride, vanity, mirth. 
 
 3. Inclined forward — humility, diffidence, shame, grief. 
 
 4. Inclined aside — languor, indifference. 
 
 5. Assenting or nodding — agreement, consent, acceptance. 
 
 6. Denying or shaking — dissent, denial, disapproval. 
 
 7. Tossing — disdain, scorn, anger. 
 
 Arms. 
 
 The arms assume an indefinite number of motions and po- 
 sitions, some of which will be fully described in the article 
 "How to Explain Direction" (page 104). In attitudes of 
 repose, the arms are, 
 
 1. Encumbered or folded — inclosing each other. 
 
 2. Reposed — one arm lying over the other at the girdle. 
 
 3. Akimbo — see cut 4, p. 28. 
 
 The special actions of the arm are known as, 
 
 1. Parrying. 
 
 7. Beckoning. 
 
 13. 
 
 Rejecting. 
 
 2. Thrusting. 
 
 8. Repressing. 
 
 14. 
 
 Shaking. 
 
 3. Aiming. 
 
 9. Advancing. 
 
 15. 
 
 Throwing. 
 
 4. Striking. 
 
 10. Springing. 
 
 16. 
 
 Sweep and 
 
 5. Waving. 
 
 11. Pressing. 
 
 
 Flourish. 
 
 6. Mowing. 
 
 12. Retracting. 
 
 
 
 Hands. 
 
 There are three principal positions of the hand with re- 
 gard to the palm, viz., supine, prone, and vertical. Supine, 
 with the palm up ; prone, with the palm down ; and vertical, 
 with the palm perpendicular. Besides these there are in- 
 ward, with the palm toward the speaker, and outward, with 
 the palm turned from the speaker and the thumb downward. 
 With regard to the fingers, the hand is said to be, 
 1. Natural — the hand relaxed, as when hanging at the sida 
 
GESTURE. 1 03 
 
 2. Extended — with the fingers more or less separated. 
 
 3. Clenched — with the fingers closed firmly in the palm. 
 
 4. Collected — finger-ends all touching the end of the 
 thumb. 
 
 5. Index — pointing with the forefinger while the others 
 are closed. 
 
 6. Holding — the thumb and forefinger pressed together. 
 
 7. Hollow — with the palm up and the fingers curved. 
 
 8. Grasping — as if seizing something. 
 Combined, the hands are, 
 
 1. Clasped — fingers interlaced and* closed. 
 
 2. Applied — palms and fingers laid together. 
 
 3. Folded — all the fingers of one hand closed across the 
 other between the thumb and forefinger. 
 
 4. Crossed — one hand laid across the other flatly, as on 
 the breast. 
 
 5. Enumerating — placing the index finger of one hand 
 successively upon a finger or fingers of the other hand. 
 
 6. Touching — the finger-tips of one hand lightly touching 
 those of the other. 
 
 7. Wringing — the hands clasped, and moving up and 
 down. 
 
 8. Patting — gently applying the hands several times in 
 succession. 
 
 9. Clapping — joining the palms forcibly several times in 
 quick succession. 
 
 10. Rubbing — chafing the inner surfaces of the hands to- 
 gether. 
 
 11. Washing — rubbing the hands within each other, as if 
 washing or oiling them. 
 
 The hands are sometimes placed upon the person to ex- 
 press sense, emotion, or reason. The hands are placed over 
 the eyes to keep out the light or to assist vision in over- 
 coming distances or darkness. The hands touch the closed 
 eyes to express blindness or weak vision; they cover the 
 eyes in shame and horrible delirium ; are pressed upon the 
 head in distress, pain, and bewilderment, and upon the heart 
 in extreme joy, tenderness, and anxious expectation. The 
 hand is placed by the ear to assist hearing, strokes the chin 
 
104 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 in thought, and presses the mute lips to enjoin silence and 
 secrecy. 
 
 How to Explain Direction of Movement. 
 
 Were it possible to be stationed in the centre of a square 
 room, direction in gesture, or calisthenics, could easily be 
 explained. However, the following may answer the pur- 
 pose. Standing at the centre of the room facing the* wall, 
 call attention to four perpendicular lines about you which 
 contain the twelve principal points of direction. The first 
 line is in front of you, reaching from floor to ceiling, and any 
 gesture made toward this line is called front. The second 
 line, on either side of you, is the perpendicular line in eaeh 
 corner of the room formed by the joining of the front and 
 side walls. Any gesture toward either of these lines is 
 called oblique. The third line, on either side of you, is the 
 perpendicular line extending from floor to ceiling at your 
 right hand and at your left. Any gesture to the right or 
 left of you toward these lines is called extended / and the 
 fourth and last line is the line on either side formed by the 
 joining of the back and side walls. Any gesture toward 
 these lines, or back of the extended, is called bach oblique, 
 or backward. We have now learned all the perpendicular 
 lines — one front, two oblique, two extended, and two back- 
 ward. Each of these lines has three distinct points with 
 regard to the degree of elevation from the shoulder at the 
 climax of gesture or action. 
 
 Any gesture which, at the climax, brings the arm or hand 
 on a line horizontal with the shoulder, is called horizontal; 
 below the horizontal, descending ; and above the horizontal, 
 ascending. Hence we have three points front, three oblique, 
 three extended, and three backward, the first in each being 
 descending, the second horizontal, and the third ascending. 
 
 There are teachers who fail to obtain full statements from 
 their pupils, hence the following Review of Direction: 
 
 1. Front. Any gesture made directly before a person is 
 called " # front." 
 
 2. Extended. Any gesture made directly to the right or 
 left is called " extended." 
 
GESTURE. 105 
 
 3. Oblique. Any gesture made between front and ex- 
 tended is called " oblique." 
 
 4. Backward. Any gesture made back of the extended 
 is called " backward." 
 
 5. Descending. Any gesture whose climax is below the 
 horizontal line of the shoulder is called " descending." 
 
 6. Horizontal. Any gesture made with the climax on a 
 line with the shoulder is called " horizontal." 
 
 1. Ascending. Any gesture whose climax is above the 
 horizontal line of the shoulder is called "ascending." 
 
 How to Teach Declamatory or Emphatic Gesture. 
 
 The twelve principal points of direction being thoroughly 
 understood, it may be well to explain a method of acquiring 
 emphatic gesture rapidly. A gesture of this kind must 
 first be accomplished in parts, then united, and rounded off 
 smoothly and gracefully. The first gesture to be made is, 
 
 I. Descending Front. First Step. — Assume the speak- 
 ing, or rostrum position ; bring the arm from the side to 
 horizontal front, cutting the air — i. e., with the arm straight 
 and thumb uppermost ; drop the hand to the side, and repeat 
 four times. If the arm comes to the side in a stiff, awkward 
 manner, assume the position again, and, when ready to drop 
 the arm, take from it all the will force, and it will fall easily 
 to the side of its own weight. This is the first step toward 
 one emphatic gesture, and, when accomplished satisfactorily, 
 proceed to the 
 
 Second Step. — From the horizontal front bring the hand 
 near the head (so that the finger-tips point to the edge of 
 the hair on the forehead), making a curve from the elbow to 
 the finger-tips, and keeping the arm well in front. You are 
 now ready to make the climax of gesture toward any one 
 of the twelve points of direction. When so much of the 
 gesture can be accurately and rapidly made, proceed to the 
 
 Third Step. — Bring the hand to the point called descend- 
 ing front, with the hand supine (palm up) — this must be at 
 the climax of gesture — then drop the arm to the side, and 
 you have completed one entire gesture. Repeat six or 
 eight times. 
 
 E2 
 
106 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 II. Horizontal Front. — Take rostrum position, raise the 
 hand and arm to horizontal front, and then to the head, as 
 in second step, " Descending Front." When ready for the 
 climax of action, throw the hand out horizontally front, 
 with the hand supine ; drop the hand, and you have com- 
 pleted the second entire gesture. 
 
 III. Ascending Front. — Proceed as before to the curve, 
 and make the climax by throwing the hand ascending front, 
 palm supine as before, dropping the hand easily to the side. 
 
 IV. Descending Oblique. — Proceed as in No. II., making 
 the climax of gesture toward the point called descending 
 oblique. Make the remaining points of direction in the 
 same manner, changing the climax of gesture to 
 
 V. Horizontal Oblique. 
 
 VI. Ascending Oblique. 
 
 VII. Descending Extended. 
 
 VIII. Horizontal Extended. 
 
 IX. Ascending Extended. 
 
 X. Descending Backward. 
 
 XI. Horizontal Backward. 
 
 XII. Ascending Backward. 
 
 Thus far the gestures have been angular, having three 
 pauses in each — one at the horizontal front, one at the head 
 or curve, and one at the climax of gesture. 
 
 Explanation of Pauses. 
 
 The first (or pause occurring at horizontal front) is at the 
 point in the gesture where the hand ceases to cut the air, 
 and is brought to the supine more or less gradually; the 
 second (or pause at the head) is a halt in the gesture to pre- 
 pare for the utterance of the emphatic word. Sometimes it 
 is necessary to wait while speaking several words before 
 the word of principal emphasis occurs. At the instant when 
 the most emphatic word is spoken the hand sweeps to the 
 climax of gesture. Should the entire gesture occur on one 
 word, then the gesture is continuous to the climax, and 
 sometimes to the position of repose. 
 
 Example. "Away with such a thought !" 
 
 Here the entire gesture is on the word aicay, and hence 
 
GESTURE. 107 
 
 is made without pause at the head, and with an exceedingly 
 short one at the climax. 
 
 The pupil must omit the first pause as soon as he has 
 learned to turn the hand to the supine. 
 
 Beginning at the first gesture (descending front), make 
 no pause until you arrive near the head in the curve ; then 
 make the climax of gesture descending front. Repeat sev- 
 eral times. 
 
 Practice each gesture in this way until it is easy to omit 
 the first pause, and to make a slight halt at the climax. 
 
 These exercises can be accomplished much more easily 
 while counting thus : One, two, three, down ; one, two, 
 three, down, etc. Count one at the beginning of the ges- 
 ture, two at the head, and three at the climax, letting the 
 hand fall to the side at the word down. Make the word 
 three emphatic, thus constantly applying the rule — "Make 
 the climax of gesture on the most emphatic word, and drop 
 the hand on the next emphatic word following." 
 
 When practicing to omit the first pause, count one, two, 
 while bringing the hand slowly and steadily to the head. 
 It is well to practice this slowly, as there is sometimes great 
 strength expressed in carrying the arm, with the words, 
 steadily to a climax. 
 
 Having completed the lesson with the right hand, repeat 
 it with the left ; and having mastered both singly, give them 
 simultaneously, omitting the gesture backward, as they can 
 not be made with the right and left hand at the same time. 
 All emphatic gestures begin and continue the same up to 
 the curve near the head ; from there the hand may take any 
 one of the points of direction, and be supine, prone, or verti- 
 cal, as the case demands. 
 
 The next lesson should be to make the gestures with the 
 hands prone. First, make the twelve points of direction 
 with the right hand prone, then with the left hand prone, 
 and finally with both hands prone. Second, make the 
 twelve points with the right and then left hand vertical, 
 then both vertical, and this completes exclamatory or em- 
 phatic gesture. All other emphatic gestures are but modi- 
 fications or variations of these. A gesture may be made 
 
108 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 without approaching the head so nearly, making it less em* 
 phatic. It may reach the climax in a curve instead of a 
 straight line, which makes it more graceful, and at the same 
 time less forcible, or it may come under the head of special 
 gesture, as flourishing, chopping, etc. ; still there is an anal- 
 ogy. The climax of the gesture must be on the horizontal 
 line of the shoulder, or above or below that line, and it will 
 be also front, oblique, extended, or backward. 
 
 FACIAL EXPRESSION. 
 
 Facial expression is the language portrayed by the face. 
 
 The Brows, 
 
 1. When natural, express veneration, tranquillity. 
 
 2. When knit, express jealousy, anger, remorse, hatred. 
 
 3. When elevated, express admiration, wonder, fear, ter- 
 ror, desire, joy. 
 
 The Zips or Mouth, 
 
 1. When open, express mirth, love, pity, desire, terror, an- 
 ger, fear, admiration, wonder, surprise. 
 
 2. When closed lightly — tranquillity. 
 
 3. When compressed — perplexity, defiance, hatred, intense 
 scorn. 
 
 4. When the corners are drawn down — pride, scorn, con- 
 tempt, hatred. 
 
 5. When pouting — petulance, discontent, boasting. 
 
 6. When smiling — approval, cheerfulness. 
 
 The Nose, 
 
 1. When expanded, expresses courage, anger. 
 
 2. When drawn up or wrinkled — disgust, contempt, mirth. 
 
 3. When contracted — pain, melancholy, fear. 
 
 The Eyes, 
 
 1. Looking downward, express grief, perplexity, diffidence,, 
 shame, humility, disappointment. 
 
 2. Upward or raised — joy, delight, hope, pride, admiration. 
 
 3. Fonvard — determination, courage. 
 
GESTURE. 109 
 
 4. Averted — disgust, aversion, listening. 
 
 5. Around — tranquillity, satisfaction, self-complacency. 
 
 6. Rolling the eyes expresses despair, rage, madness, jeal- 
 ousy. 
 
 *!. Glaring — madness, revenge, distraction, pain, rage, jeal- 
 ousy. 
 
 8. Staring — boasting. 
 
 9. Vacant — despair. 
 
 10. Fixed and wide — fear, terror, despair, consternation. 
 
 1 1 . Flashing — malice, anger 
 
 GENEKAL RULES AND SUGGESTIONS. 
 
 1. Know what you are going to say. Commit the oration 
 or declamation thoroughly, or, if the effort is to be extempo- 
 raneous, master the subject in all its relations before attempt- 
 ing to speak in public. 
 
 2. Without attracting any attention, breathe deep and 
 long before and while speaking ; it prevents embarrassment 
 and redness of face, besides preparing the vocal organs for 
 effort. 
 
 3. Speak with a view to being heard by the persons far- 
 thest from you ; and, if the room echoes, speak slowly. 
 
 4. Walk upon the platform with a firm, easy tread.* 
 
 5. Stand with one foot a little in advance of the other, at 
 an angle of 45 degrees, f 
 
 6. In advancing or retiring, preserve the angle, whether 
 the step be long or short. 
 
 7. Let the weight rest upon one foot, so that the other can 
 be moved at pleasure. 
 
 8. In shifting the weight from one foot to the other, avoid 
 losing height by dropping one hip. 
 
 9. In repose — i. e., when no action is required — the hands 
 may (one or both) be at the girdle, hang at the side, or one 
 
 * Ycung orators sometimes keep their usual gait until near the desired 
 place upon the platform, then take one long final step, or two or three 
 shorter ones, as they wheel to a speaking position. 
 
 t There seems to be a difference of opinion as to the number of degrees 
 which should be formed by the angle of the feet. Less than a right angle 
 is preferred by many. 
 
110 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 hand may be placed upon the hip, with the elbow pressed 
 back. Some speakers preserve the grace of attitude and 
 throw one hand behind them, with the palm out. To ad- 
 here to any one position, however graceful, during an entire 
 speech, would be in bad taste. 
 
 10. Look about you, over the audience, before beginning 
 to speak. 
 
 11. Do not bow abruptly or nod the head, but bend the 
 body and head simultaneously ; then step forward and com- 
 mence speaking. 
 
 Note. — An occasion of great ceremony, as at a formal con- 
 vention or college commencement, requires a bow first to the 
 presiding officer. This should be done when going upon the 
 platform, and before turning to the audience. 
 
 12. Look from manuscript or book, if one is used, as much 
 as possible. 
 
 Note. — The less a speaker confines his eyes to the manu- 
 script, the more eloquent he can be. While some speakers 
 confine themselves entirely to paper, others refer only to 
 the heads of discourse, or speak entirely from memory. It 
 is needless to add that the latter hold an audience much 
 better than the former. 
 
 13. Gesture should be decided, and not weak and uncertain. 
 
 14. When the gesture requires a glance, look toward the 
 object of which you speak, not after ', but before or while 
 speaking of it. First the look, then the action and words 
 in quick succession. 
 
 15. Make no gesture without a reason, and avoid excess 
 of action. 
 
 16. Make the climax of gesture on the most emphatic 
 word, and let the hand fall easily to the side on the next em- 
 phatic word thereafter. Having attained the climax, do not 
 shake the hand or otherwise emphasize the climax, but hold 
 the hand still until ready to resume the position of repose. 
 Otherwise the gesture is weakened. 
 
 17. Do not occupy the hands by twisting any article of 
 apparel, as the watch-chain, coat, or dress. 
 
 1 8. Do not thrust the hands into the pockets, or flourish a 
 handkerchief more than is absolutely necessary, 
 
GESTURE. Ill 
 
 19. Do not lean the weight upon a desk, chair-back, or 
 other article of furniture. 
 
 20. Make no gesture when the eyes are fastened upon the 
 manuscript or book. 
 
 21. Do not walk to and fro upon the platform like a caged 
 panther, sway backward or forward, toss or shake the head 
 regularly ', or make any other monotonous recurrent move- 
 ment or gesture. 
 
 22. Do not turn the back to the audience when speaking, 
 but show at least a three-quarter's view of the chest. 
 
 23. Make gestures from within outward as much as is 
 consistent with the action required. 
 
 24. In personating two characters, as in dialogue, turn the 
 face to the right when one person speaks, and to the left 
 when the other speaks. If there be explanations by the au- 
 thor, read or speak them in a lower tone of voice, with the 
 face front. 
 
 25. In personating more than two characters, select a style 
 of general appearance and quality of voice for each, and re- 
 sume their respective signs when they speak. 
 
 26. The final bow may be made simultaneously with a 
 short backward step as you turn to leave the platform. Let 
 the weight be carried with the retiring foot, so that the oth- 
 er be free to move away. 
 
 Note. — 1st. Take the speaking position, and, without moving the feet, 
 bend steadily down until you have counted four. Eesume the original up- 
 right position while counting four more. 
 
 2d. Take the gymnasium position, and bow while counting, as before. 
 
 3d. Step back, and bow while counting four or eight. See Rule No. 26. 
 
 The first form of bowing may very properly introduce a speech, and the 
 third close the speech. 
 
112 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 1. R. H. S., right hand supine. 4. B. H. S. t both hands supine. 
 
 2. R.H.P. ♦« " prone. 5. B. H. P. " " prone. 
 
 3. R.H.V. " *' vertical. 6. B.H.V. " « vertical. 
 J)./. Descending front. D.e. Descending extended. 
 H.f. Horizontal " II. e. Horizontal " 
 
 t A./. Ascending " A. e. Ascending " 
 
 D. o. Descending oblique. D. b, Descending backward. 
 
 H. o. Horizontal " H.b. Horizontal M 
 
 A. o. Ascending u A. b. Ascending " 
 
 l r R. H. S. 
 D.f This sentiment I will maintain | with the last breath of life.* 
 H.f I appeal | to you, sir, for your de cis ion. 
 
 A.f I appeal | to the great Searcher of hearts for the truth of what I 
 ut ter. * ' 
 
 D. o. Of all mistakes, | none are so fa tal as those which we incur 
 through prejudice. 
 
 H. o. Truth, honor, | jus tice, were his mo tives. 
 
 A. o. Fix your eye | on the prize of a truly no ble am hi tion. 
 
 D. e. Away | with an idea so absurd ! 
 
 H. e. The breeze of morning | wafted in cense on the air. 
 
 A. e. In dreams through camp and court he bore | the trophies of a 
 con queror. ^ 
 
 D. b. A way | with an idea so abhorrent to humanity ! 
 
 H. b. Search the records of the remotest an ti quity for a par allel to 
 this. 
 A. b. Then rang their proud hurrah ! 
 
 2. R. H.P. 
 
 D.f. Put down | the unworthy feeling ! 
 
 H.f. Re strain the unhallowed pro pen sity. 
 
 D. o. Let every one who would merit the Christian name | re press | 
 such a feeling. 
 
 H. o. I charge you as men and as Christians | to lay a re straint on 
 all such dispo si tions ! 
 
 A. o. Ye gods, | with hold your ven geance ! 
 
 D. e. The hand of affection | shall smooth the turf for your last pit low ! 
 
 H. e.. The cloud of adver ] sity threw its gloom over all his pros pects. 
 
 A. e. So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud that swathes | as with a pur- 
 ple shroud Benledi's distant hill. 
 
 See Rule 16. 
 
GESTURE. 113 
 
 3. K. H. V. 
 H.f. Arise ! meet | and re pel your foe I 
 A.f. For bid it, Almighty God! 
 
 H. o. He generously extended the arm of power | to ward off the blow. 
 A . o. May Heaven a vert the ca lam ity ! 
 H. e. Out of my sight, | thou serpent ! 
 H. b. Thou tempting fiend, a vaunt ! 
 
 4. B.H. S. 
 
 D. f. All personal feeling he de pos ited on the al tar of his country's 
 good. 
 
 H.f. Listen, I im plore you, to the voice of rea son ! 
 
 A.f. Hail! universal Lord. 
 
 D. o. Every personal advantage | he sur ren dered to the common good. 
 
 H. o. Wel come once more to your early home ! 
 
 A.o. Hail! holy Light! 
 
 D. e. I utterly re nounce | all the supposed advantages of such a station. 
 
 H. e. They yet slept | in the wide a byss of possi bil ity. 
 
 A. e. Joy, joy | for ever ! 
 
 5. B.H. P. 
 
 D.f. Lie light ly on him, earth — his step was light on thee. 
 
 H.f. Now all the blessings of a glad father light on thee I 
 
 A.f. Blessed be Thy name, O Lord, Most High. 
 
 D. o. We are in Thy sight | but as the worms of the dust ! 
 
 //. o. May the grace of God | abide with you for ever. 
 
 A. o. And let the triple rainbow rest | o'er all the mountain top*. 
 
 D. e. Here let the tumults of passion | forever cease ! 
 
 H. e. Spread wide a round the heaven-breathing calm I 
 
 A. e. Heaven | opened wide her ever-during gates. 
 
 6. B.H.V. 
 H.f. Hence, hideous spectre ! 
 
 A.f. Avert, O God, the frown of thy indignation! 
 
 H. o. Far from our hearts be so inhuman a feeling. 
 
 A . o. Let me not | name it to you, ye chaste stars ! 
 
 H. e. And if the night have gathered aught of evil or concealed, dis< 
 perse it. ' ' ' 
 
 A. e. Melt and dis pel, ye spectre doubts! 
 
 Note. — Begin to raise the hand on the dotted words, make the climas 
 of gesture on the words in small capitals, and drop the hand upon the syl- 
 lables in italics. 
 
-14 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 
 
 
 " 1. Articulation of sounds 
 
 ( A. Organs. 
 -{ B. Functiong, 
 (C. Results. 
 
 
 "1. Orthoepy . 
 
 2. Enunciation of syllables 
 
 J A. In parts. 
 IB. Entire. 
 
 
 
 w 3. Pronunciation of words. 
 1. Is termed 
 
 (A. High. 
 -J B. Middle. 
 ( C. Low. 
 
 
 II. Pitch 
 
 /"Unvaried is 
 
 Monotone. 
 
 
 
 (..Varied is 
 
 ( A. Inflection. 
 -\ B. Melody. 
 (C. Transition, 
 
 Vocal 
 
 Gymnastics. " 
 
 
 '1. Kinds 
 
 (A. Soft. 
 -J B. Middle. 
 1 C. Loud. 
 
 
 IIL Force 
 
 2. Degrees 
 
 ( A. Effusive. 
 < B. Expulsive. 
 (C. Explosive. 
 
 
 
 ^3. In application is 
 
 (A. Stress. 
 -< B. Accent. 
 ( C. Emphasis. 
 
 
 ,nr. Timt . 
 
 '1. Quantity of 
 
 J A. Sounds. 
 IB. Rests. 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 k 2 Movemtnt 
 
 / A. Rate. 
 i B. Rhythm. 
 
PAET IV. 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 Reading is the art of receiving or imparting ideas b) 
 means of written or printed characters. It is silent or vo- 
 cal, sentential or oratorical. 
 
 Sentential reading has regard to the sense or thought of 
 the composition ; oratorical reading expresses not only the 
 thought, but the emotion of the thought. To this end elo- 
 cution is a means. 
 
 Elocution is the vocal delivery of extemporaneous or writ- 
 ten composition, and includes vocal gymnastics and gesture.* 
 
 VOCAL GYMNASTICS. 
 
 Vocal gymnastics is the science and the art of speech. 
 It includes orthoepy, pitch, force, and time in the first, and 
 orthophony in the second portion of the definition. Science 
 teaches us to know, art to do. Science is classified knowl- 
 edge, art is the use of classified knowledge. 
 
 The science of speech is the philosophy of the human 
 voice — its relations, principles, and laws. 
 
 The art of speech is the use of these scientific facts. 
 
 1. Orthoepy treats of correct pronunciation. It includes 
 articulation, enunciation, and pronunciation. 
 
 2. Pitch is any degree of elevation or height. In orato- 
 ry, pitch is the position of voice upon the diatonic scale. 
 
 3. Force is the result of action. In oratory, force is the 
 degree of intensity or energy with which words or their 
 components are uttered. 
 
 4. Time is a measured portion of duration. Time in ora- 
 tory is the measure of rate or speed of utterance. 
 
 5. Orthophony is the training of the vocal organs in or- 
 thoepy, pitch, force, and time. 
 
 * Gesture is not discussed as a science in this Manual, but has been treat- 
 ed with a view to assist the teacher or student in its application. See Gest- 
 ure, p. 101. 
 
116 
 
 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 28. ORTHOEPY. 
 
 I 
 
 o J 
 
 B 
 
 o 
 
 I. Articulation 
 of sounds 
 
 1. Organs 
 
 2. Functions 
 
 w 3. Results 
 
 r t In parts 
 
 ( Abdominal. 
 
 a. Muscles ?-f c > 08tal . 
 
 L Thoracic. 
 
 b. Diaphragm, or midriff. 
 
 A. Chest, etc. «{ c. Thorax, or chest cavity. 
 
 d. Pleura, or lung-case. 
 
 e. Lungs. 1 
 
 f. Bronchi. 
 
 g. Trachea, 
 'a. Larynx. 
 
 b. Cartilages. 
 
 c. Vocal cords. 
 
 B. Throat, etc. 1 d. Glottis. 
 
 e. Epiglottis. 
 
 f. Hyoid bone, 
 ^g. Pharynx, or swallow. 
 " a. Eustachian tubes. 
 
 b. Nasal passages. 
 
 c. Mouth cavity. 
 (Hard. 
 
 . d. Palate*} Soft. 
 fc C. Mouth, etc. 1 (Uvula. 
 
 e. Upper Gum. 
 
 f. Teeth. 
 
 g. Tongue, 
 ^h. Lips. 
 
 A. Respiration— breathing. 
 
 B. Phonation, the production of vocal sound. 
 
 C. Articulation, the modification of element- 
 
 ary sounds. 
 A. Breath— sound material. 
 
 Voice, inarticulate sound. 
 
 Units of speech, or articulate sound. 
 A. Tonic. 
 
 II. Enunciation 
 of syllables 
 
 II 
 ft 
 
 Subtonic ) 
 Atonic J 
 
 ("A. By position, 
 
 2. Whole, and as 
 
 known ■< 
 
 combinations. 
 
 ("a. Ultimate. 
 
 ) b. Penultimate. 
 
 \ c. Antepenultimate. 
 
 [d. Preantepenultimate. 
 
 I B.Prosodically, f a - Time ' as {fcSnoft. 
 
 ik tjv™.* ao $ a - Accented, 
 (b. Force, as | &Unaccente(i 
 
 
 by 
 
 III. Pronuncia- t 
 ^tionofwordsby ' 
 
 "1. Origin 
 2. Form 
 
 1 3. Syllables 
 
 A. Primitive. 
 
 B. Derivative. 
 
 A. Simple. 
 
 B. Compound. 
 
 f A. Monosyllables. 
 J B. Dissyllables. 
 | C. Trisyllables. 
 LD. Polysyllable. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 117 
 
 OKTHOEPY. 
 
 Orthoepy treats of correct pronunciation, or the distinct 
 and proper utterance of combined elements of language. 
 First, we must consider the articulation of single elements ; 
 second, the enunciation of combined elements in whole syl- 
 lables, or in parts of syllables ; third, the pronunciation of 
 words. 
 
 Though these three terms are often regarded as synony- 
 mous, yet a distinction is to be made in their use. In speak- 
 ing of the general manner of delivery, elocution maybe used 
 instead of enunciation ; as, " His elocution is good," not 
 " His enunciation is good." 
 
 Articidation, resulting as it does from certain definite 
 and unvarying configurations or movements of the vocal 
 organs, is in its nature fixed ; whereas pronunciation, de- 
 pendent as it is upon good usage, custom, or fashion, is sub- 
 ject to change from time to time. One unit of speech or 
 sound may be substituted for another in words of the same 
 origin and meaning, as lande for land, honde (in Chaucer's 
 time) for hand (in our time), myselve for myself, etc. Some- 
 times the sounds are changed when the orthography is un- 
 changed, as either and neither for either and neither. 
 
 Articulation, in the science of elocution, is the distinct ut- 
 terance of the elementary sounds of a language.* This im- 
 plies organs, their functions or offices, and the results. The 
 organs of articulation may be classed in three groups ; those 
 of the chest, those of the throat, and those of the mouth. In 
 the production of words, the first group performs the labor 
 known as respiration, which furnishes breath, or material for 
 sound ; the function of the second group is phonation, or 
 sound-making, and results in voice or sound ; the function 
 of the third group is articulation, or sound-modification, 
 which results in units of speech or articulate sound. 
 
 * Utterance does not necessarily mean articulation ; as, ' * He uttered a 
 sigh," " He uttered a moan." A sigh or moan is not articulate. 
 
118 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 I. FIRST GROUP — CHEST ORGANS. 
 
 The organs of respiration, their functions, and results: 
 
 1. The muscles : 
 
 a. The abdominal (in front) give the first impulse toward 
 the production of sound, and,by contracting, assist the dia- 
 phragm in an upward movement. 
 
 b. The dorsal (in the lower part of the back) act in con- 
 cert with the abdominal muscles in giving an upward move- 
 ment during violent use of the voice, as shouting, etc. 
 
 c. The intercostal (at the lower part of the chest), and, 
 
 d. The thoracic and pectoral (at the upper part of the 
 chest), dilate and contract the chest in breathing or vocaliz- 
 ing. 
 
 2. The diaphragm, or midriff (a muscular and tendinous 
 partition which separates the thorax, or great chest cavity, 
 from the abdomen), gives an upward impulse, acting upon, 
 the pleura, or lung-case. 
 
 3. The thorax, or chest cavity (the region of body be- 
 tween the neck and stomach), continues the great work of 
 respiration by contracting and expanding, and gives depth 
 and resonance to the voice, as well as voice-material, or 
 breath. 
 
 4. The pleura, or lung -case (a membrane covering the 
 lungs), receives from the diaphragm and muscles an im- 
 pulse, which it communicates to the lungs, causing it to ex- 
 pel the air from its cells into the bronchi. 
 
 5. The lungs (a lobed and spongy body filled with minute 
 divisions and subdivisions of the bronchi) act as an air re- 
 ceiver, subject to the action of the pleura. 
 
 6. The bronchi (two main branches of the trachea, or 
 windpipe, with their divisions and subdivisions) distribute 
 the air inhaled through the trachea to the lungs, and con- 
 vey that expelled by the organic impulse back through the 
 trachea, larynx, and mouth. 
 
 7. The trachea, or windpipe (a series of cartilaginous or 
 gristly rings forming the great air-channel to and from the 
 lungs), serves to conduct the breath through the bronchi to 
 and from the lungs in respiration, phonation, and articulation. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 
 
 119 
 
 II. SECOND GROUP — THROAT ORGANS. 
 
 The organs of phonation, their functions, and results: 
 1. The larynx, or Adam's apple (a cartilaginous box on 
 the top of the trachea), expands and contracts, rises and 
 sinks, thus enlarging or diminishing its capacity. It is 
 depressed to produce grave sounds, and raised to produce 
 acute sounds. 
 
 Fig. 1. Front view of the Larynx 
 and a part of the Trachea. 
 
 1. Epiglottis. 
 
 2. Thyroid cartilage. 
 
 3. Crico-thyroid cartilage. 
 
 4. Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 5. Trachea. 
 
 6. Thyroid gland. 
 
 Fig. 2. Back view of the Larynx 
 and upper part of the Trachea. 
 
 1. Epiglottis. 
 
 2. Thyroid cartilage. 
 
 3. 3. Arytenoid cartilages. 
 
 4. Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 5. Trachea. 
 
 2. The cartilages of the larynx : 
 
 a. The cricoid (situated immediately over the upper ring 
 of the trachea, resembles in form a seal ring, from which it 
 takes its name, the seal being back, and the narrow part of 
 the ring in front), by its form and position, admits of the ele- 
 vation and depression of this part of the larynx, thus help- 
 ing to render tone acute or grave. 
 
 b. The thyroid (in form of a buckler or shield, much bent, 
 and by its two main plates forming the sides or walls of the 
 larynx) usually determines the capacity of the voice, and, 
 with other parts of the larynx, renders the voice compact 
 and sonorous. 
 
 c. The arytenoid (two in number, so called from a fancied 
 resemblance in shape to a pitcher, ladle, or funnel, fill the 
 
120 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 space back of the thyroid and cricoid cartilages, and are 
 connected with both) serve as points of support and tension 
 for the vocal cords or ligaments. 
 
 Fig. 4. Interior of the Larynx, seen 
 from above. 
 
 1. Thyroid cartilage. 
 
 2. Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 3. 3. Arytenoid cartilages. 
 
 4. 4. Inferior, or true vocal chorda. 
 
 5. Posterior crico - arytenoid mus- 
 cles. 
 
 6. Lateral crico-aryterioid muscles. 
 
 7. Arytenoideus muscle. 
 
 8, 8. Thyro-arytenoid muscles, with- 
 in the dotted lines. 
 
 Fig. 3. Vertical section of the Larynx 
 and a part of the Trachea. 
 1, 1. Hyoid or lingual bone, below 
 which is seen the thyro- hyoid 
 membrane extending to the thy- 
 roid cartilage. 
 
 2. Epiglottis. 
 
 3. One wing of the thyroid cartilage. 
 
 4. Arytenoid cartilage of one side. 
 
 5. Superior, or false vocal chord of 
 one side. 
 
 6. Inferior, or true vocal chord of 
 one side. 
 
 7. Thyroid cartilage in front. 
 8, 8. Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 9. Upper ring of the trachea. 
 10. Thyroid gland. 
 
 3. The vocal chords, or ligaments (extending across the up- 
 per part of the larynx and forming the lips of the glottis), 
 vibrate with the action of the current of air expelled from 
 the lungs, and produce vocal sound, and, by tension and re- 
 mission, produce various degrees of pitch. 
 
 4. The glottis (the small chink or opening between the 
 vocal chords, forming the mouth of the larynx) opens and 
 contracts, thus deciding in part the gravity or shrillness of 
 tone. It dilates in low sounds, and contracts in high sounds. 
 
 5. The epiglottis (the valve or lid of which caps the glot- 
 tis), when the larynx is elevated, as in the act of swallow- 
 ing, covers the glottis, or orifice of the windpipe, and pre- 
 vents strangulation. Usually it is erect, and allows free in- 
 gress and egress to the breath. 
 
 6. The hyoid> or JJ-like bone (a small crescent-shaped bone 
 
ORTHOEPY. 
 
 121 
 
 Pharynx 
 
 / M W ! B%ZZSaiiiiiS^&ML-iL ^ 1 Hard nalate. 
 
 Softpalate 4 — /erw 
 
 Uvula 8 ""iWi »«««• 
 
 Tonsil S fc 
 
 Epiglottis. *—■ |] 
 
 Hyoid or lingual bone. 7- 
 
 \r«„*„vi«^r„^.— ... „.. -j a rvK JflL«J(oL. —. 8 Superior vocal chord of one side. 
 
 lh^ y e * lde9 ^^mr^^tlt"-"" u In ^ rior > or true vocal chord of one aid*. 
 
 cS^^^ — » Thvroid cartila g- 
 
 CEaophagus. l *~TTp^jm'~ffM^$U ' 12 Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 Trachea 15 /- m~fS^klL 14 Thyroid gland. 
 
 Fig, 5. Section of the Head and Neck, showing the Organs of Speech. 
 
 Line through the superior, or false vocal chords) i 
 
 and false glottis j 
 
 Line through the ventricles of the larynx <* 
 
 Line through the inferior, or true vocal chords\ 5. 
 and true glottis ) 
 
 Section of the thyroid cartilage / 7 
 
 Section of the cricoid cartilage 
 
 Fig. 6. Transverse section, showing the cavity of the Larynx, with the true vocal 
 chords nearly parallel, or in a position to vibrate. 
 
 lying at the root of the tongue, between the larynx and the 
 mouth), forms a point of tension for the muscles which con- 
 nect the larynx with the mouth, and aids in giving pitch.* 
 
 7. The pharynx, or swallow (a dilatable bag situated im- 
 mediately behind and above the larynx, affects the charac- 
 
 * The hyoid bone. " Situated in an almost horizontal position behind 
 and rather below the lower jaw, it performs the triple office of a basis of the 
 tongue, a point of support to the larynx, and a fulcrum by which the con- 
 tractions of the intrinsic muscles of the tongue and the larynx may be im- 
 pressed on these organs." 
 
 F 
 
122 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 ter of sound by giving it resonant space. A large pharynx 
 usually indicates a deep tone of voice, and a small one a 
 comparatively high pitch. 
 
 8. The thyroid gland (so called, although "it has no excre- 
 tory duct ; a firm, vascular substance, lying like a cushion, 
 in two lobes, across the upper part of the trachea") is sup- 
 posed to check the vibration of sound, and prevent its 
 descent. When enlarged, this gland produces goitre, or 
 swelled neck. 
 
 III. THIRD GROUP — MOUTH ORGANS. 
 
 The organs of articulation, their functions, and results. 
 
 1. The Eustachian tubes (canals leading from the tym- 
 pana, or drums of the ears, to the pharynx) help to render 
 the voice clear and free.* 
 
 2. The nasal passages (the innermost parts of the nostrils 
 united into one resonant channel, and opening into the back 
 part of the mouth behind the " veil," or pendant and mova- 
 ble part of the palate) give resonance to the voice, and serve 
 as air-channels when the mouth is closed, as in ordinary 
 breathing. 
 
 3. The mouth cavity (oval in shape, bounded in front by 
 the lips, behind by the soft palate, above by the hard palate 
 or roof, below by the tongue, and on the sides by the cheeks 
 and teeth), by its arched structure, moulds sound, and gives 
 it scope and reverberation, sweetness and smoothness. 
 
 4. The palate (divided into the hard palate, or the roof 
 of the mouth ; [2] the veil, or soft palate — the pendant 
 and movable membranous curtain separating the mouth 
 from the pharynx ; and [3] the uvula, a small round tag or 
 process hanging from the middle of the lower border of the 
 soft palate) defines the volume of sound. 
 
 5. The teeth help to give a clear and distinct character to 
 enunciation. 
 
 6. The tongue (composed of muscular fibres, and having a 
 
 * The whole cavity of the head, its hollows and cells about the face and 
 forehead, are subservient to the resonance of the voice. Organic malforma- 
 tion, snuff-taking, colds, or catarrh, at once prove how much the clear, pure, 
 ringing tones depend upon the proper condition of these cavities. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 123 
 
 very flexible tip) modifies vocal sound, and renders it artic- 
 ulate, changes the size of the mouth cavity, directs sound, 
 and, by its various positions and movements, assists in pro- 
 ducing the guttural, nasal, and oral qualities of voice. 
 
 1. The lips project, convey, and modify sounds very mate- 
 rially. 
 
 Review of Respiration, or Breathing. 
 The muscles of the chest — the intercostal, thoracic, and 
 pectoral — compress and expand the thorax, or great chest 
 cavity, thus expelling and receiving breath, and furnishing 
 a constant supply of material for sound.* 
 
 JRevieio of Phonation.\ 
 
 The lungs being filled with breath, or material for sound, 
 the abdominal muscles contract and elevate the diaphragm, 
 which instantly communicates the received impulse to the 
 pleura, or lung-case, which in its turn expels the breath from 
 the lungs into the bronchi, thence into the trachea and lar- 
 ynx, where, by the action of the muscles at this point, it is 
 rendered vocal, or is converted into sound. 
 
 Review of Articulation, or the Production of Speech-sounds. 
 The breath, converted into voice by the action of the lar- 
 ynx, passes out to the mouth, where, by the various posi- 
 
 * The sound of the human voice, as well as all mechanical or musical 
 sounds, may be discrete or concrete. Discretes are successive detached 
 notes or sounds ; concretes are smooth and united sounds — a continuous 
 stream of gliding sounds. 
 
 t The movement of the shoulders up and down, in respiration, indicates 
 some organic derangement or artificial restriction. In ancient times, this 
 was considered a great blemish in oratorj, and aspirants to oratorical hon- 
 ors, subject to the habit, were wont to practice with a sword or other sharp 
 instrument hung over the shoulder, so that the slightest upward movement 
 was instantly checked, and the pupil put on his guard continually. Breathe 
 horizontally, or down and outward. Keep the mouth closed when sleeping, 
 and at other times when not speaking. Mr. George Catlin, the well-known 
 Indian traveler, has written an entire volume upon this subject. He attrib- 
 utes lung diseases to the pernicious habit of breathing through the mouth. 
 He cured himself of the habit by wearing a sort of clasp on the lips whii<s 
 sleeping. A small bit of isinglass-plaster answers as well. 
 
124 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 tions or motions of the palate, tongue, teeth, and lips, it is 
 rendered articulate, i. e., made into distinct sounds called 
 " units of speech," each of which is readily distinguished 
 from all the others. 
 
 Thus elements of speech may be traced from the first im- 
 pulse that begins them to the last and least modification 
 that perfects them. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 125 
 
 YOICE. 
 
 Voice is sound produced by the forcible passage of air 
 through the larynx. 
 
 The human voice, independent of articulation, has sever- 
 al native and acquired qualities, as compass, volume, and 
 (when emitted in successive impulses, or notes) rate, or time. 
 See Note, p. 123. 
 
 Compass and volume (or pitch and force) are attributes 
 common to all voices. Pitch is caused by variations in the 
 condition and dimensions of the glottis, and also by the 
 length of the vocal tube — the larynx being raised for high 
 notes, and depressed for low ones. 
 
 The voice varies in force from a whisper to a shout, just 
 as the breath varies from soft breathing to panting. The 
 degree of loudness of the voice is in proportion to the ex- 
 pulsive effort, and the resistance which the air meets in its 
 passage from the lungs through the vocal tube. If little re* 
 sistance be given to the outward rush of air, an aspirated or 
 whispered sound is the result. 
 
 Compass of voice is the range of its capabilities upon the 
 diatonic scale, above or below which it can not go easily. 
 The usual compass of cultivated voices is three octaves.* 
 In ascending the scale, there is a point where the voice is 
 said to "break." This point is about two octaves above 
 the lowest note of the voice. The notes of the voice above 
 this point are called falsetto, and those below, natural. 
 
 In music, the lowest octave of male voices is called bass; 
 the middle, or second octave, tenor; and the' highest octave, 
 treble. The corresponding octaves of female voices are call- 
 ed contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano.\ The natural pitch 
 of women's and boys' voices is one octave above that of 
 men. The treble corresponds with the falsetto, and the 
 tenor and bass with the orotund, in man's voice ; and the 
 
 * It is said that the ear can perceive nine octaves. 
 
 f The bass is often called by its Italian name, basso ; the tenor, baritone ; 
 and the treble, tenore. - 
 
126 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 soprano corresponds with the falsetto, and the contralto 
 with the orotund, in woman's voice. 
 
 QUALITIES OP VOICE. 
 
 Quality is the nature of a thing relatively considered. 
 Quality of voice is the kind or property of the voice. There 
 are eight of these organic, habitual, or assumed qualities. 
 They are aspirate,* pure, orotund, pectoral, guttural, nasal, 
 oral, and falsetto. 
 
 Every person's voice is characterized by one or more of 
 these qualities. The pure, orotund, pectoral, and aspirate 
 can not be united, but the nasal will unite with any other 
 quality except the oral and guttural. Thus one may speak 
 in the nasal pure, the nasal orotund, or the nasal aspirate. 
 
 The pure and orotund are far more pleasing than the 
 remaining qualities, so that the former may properly be 
 classed as agreeable, and the latter as disagreeable qualities, 
 or vices. 
 
 1. The aspirate is known as a whisper and half whisper^ 
 The whisper is the least audible articulate sound, being mid- 
 way between breath and vocality. It might be called artic- 
 ulated breath. 
 Example. " The foe! They come! They come!" — Byron. 
 
 The half whisper is more vocal than the whisper, being 
 midway between that and full vocality. These two varie- 
 ties of sound arise from a relaxed condition of the vocal 
 chords, caused by fear, weakness, awe, secretiveness, anger, 
 or any violent emotion which prevents deep and full inspira- 
 tion. The parts are temporarily paralyzed, and allow more 
 breath to escape from the lungs than is rendered vocal by 
 the larynx. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 (Am V'^ n( * tnen we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, 
 
 * Remember Saint Bartholomew !' was passed from man to man." 
 
 Macaulay. 
 
 " To bed, to bed ; there's knocking at the gate. 
 Come, come, come, come, give me your hand!" — Macbeth. 
 
 * The aspirate can hardly be said to have a place under voice, since it has 
 no vocality ; but, having tone, it has a place among qualities. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 127 
 
 2. The pure is the full, distinct tone, which, above all oth- 
 ers, is agreeable to the ear. In this quality the inspirations 
 are deep and full, and the breath is given out slowly, the 
 whole being converted into the greatest possible amount of 
 sound. It is in strong contrast with the aspirate, which 
 takes in a small supply of air and sends out much, thereby 
 making little vocality.* 
 
 Example. " The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
 
 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 : 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 It is an attribute to God himself: 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 When mercy seasons justice. " — Siiakspeare. 
 
 3. The orotund is the intensity and dignity of the pure 
 tone, known by its depth, rounded fullness, and power. " It 
 is the pure tone rounded in the mouth and deepened in the 
 chest." 
 
 Example. "On the earl's cheek the flush of rage 
 O'ercame the ashen hue of age ; 
 Fierce he broke forth : 'And darest thou, then, 
 To beard the lion in his den, 
 The Douglas in his hall ? 
 And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? 
 No ! by St. Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
 Up drawbridge, groom ! What ! warder ! ho ! 
 Let the portcullis fall ! ' " — Scott. 
 
 4. The pectoral, or hollow tone, arises from feeble organs, 
 ill health, diffidence, constraint, or the like, but it is oftener 
 the result of weak action of the abdominal muscles in giv- 
 ing the primary impulse to vocal expression. Its pitch is 
 low, with the resonance in the chest. 
 
 * That vocal utterance which produces smoothly and without apparent ef- 
 fort the greatest number of distinct sounds with the least amount of breath, 
 or material for sound, is the most perfect for emotional speaking, for it al- 
 lows an uninterrupted climax.   
 
128 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Examples. 
 <c Yon may, if it be God's will, gain onr barren and rug- 
 ged mountains ; but, like our ancestors of old, we will seek 
 refuge in wilder and more distant solitudes, and, when we 
 have resisted to the last, we will starve in the icy wastes of 
 the glaciers. Ay, men, women, and children, we will be 
 frozen into annihilation together ere one free Switzer will 
 acknowledge a foreign master 1" 
 
 " The skies they were ashen and sober, 
 The leaves they were crisped and sear, 
 The leaves they were | withering and sear. 
 
 It was | night | in the lonesome | October 
 (Of my most immemorial year). 
 
 It was hard | by the dim ] Lake of Auber, 
 In the misty mid-region of Wier.; 
 
 It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, 
 
 In the ghoul- 1 haunted woodland of Wier." — Poe. 
 
 5. The guttural, or rough, grating voice, seems to issue 
 from an obstructed throat. " The immediate organic cause 
 of this bad quality of tone is an improper pressure of the 
 muscles around the larynx and the root of the tongue, caus- 
 ing the voice, in the one case, apparently to issue from the 
 pharynx, or swallow, instead of the larynx ; and, in the oth- 
 er, to originate in the upper part of the throat only, cut off 
 from communication with either the chest or mouth." — Rus- 
 sel. It expresses hate, contempt, malignity, rage, etc. 
 
 Example. " The curse my noble father laid on thee 
 
 When, thou didst crown his warlike brows 
 With paper. " — Shakspeare. 
 
 6. The nasal is a tone which seems to come through the 
 nose. Organically it is made by allowing the voice to drift 
 with force against the nasal passages while they are partly 
 closed, and the veil of the palate is too low. It is voice 
 with little or no resonance in the nose. 
 
 Example. l ' I tell you what, I'll build one shay to beat the taoun, 
 'N the keounty, 'n all the kentry raoun' ; 
 It shall be so built that it couldn' break daoun. " 
 
 O. W. Holmes. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 12 ( J 
 
 7. The oral is a voice seemingly distant, as if coming from 
 another room, a box, or closet, and partakes of ventriloquy 
 in its effect. It can be produced by making the mouth-cav- 
 ity high and narrow, pressing the cheeks closely against the 
 well-opened teeth while speaking, and forcing the sound up- 
 ward as it escapes. The veil of the palate is high in pro- 
 ducing the oral. 
 
 Example. " Then fear not, doubt not, which thou wilt, 
 We'll try this quarrel hilt to hilt." — Scott. 
 
 8. The falsetto. In the falsetto voice, the vocal ligaments 
 do not meet in their entire length, either a posterior or an 
 anterior portion of them remaining apart.* It arises from 
 feebleness, fatigue, indifference, affectation, and the like. In 
 music, this voice is called treble, and begins about two oc- 
 taves above the lowest note of the voice, where, in ascend- 
 ing the musical scale, the voice is said to " break." All 
 notes above this "break" are falsetto, and those below, nat- 
 ural. In producing this quality, the veil of the palate is 
 high, and the uvula is contracted into the veil and complete- 
 ly hidden from sight. It expresses irritability, scolding, in- 
 vective, etc. / 
 
 Example. 
 u Billy ! where are you, Billy ? I say, come home to your best of mothers. 
 
 I'm scared when I think of them Cabroleys, they drive so ; 
 
 They'd run over their own sisters and brothers. 
 
 Or maybe he's stole by some chimney-sweeping wretch, to -stick in nar- 
 row flues and what not, 
 
 And be poked up behind with a picked pointed pole, when the soot has 
 ketched and the chimbly's red hot. 
 
 Oh, I'd give the whole wide world, if the world was mine, to clap my two 
 longin' eyes on his face ; » 
 
 For he's my darlin' of darlin's, and if he don't soon come back, you'll see 
 me drop stone dead on the place."— Hood, The Lost Heir. 
 
 Nasal sound-units (m, n, ng) are emitted through the nose, while the 
 quality of voice known as nasal is produced when the nasal passages art 
 partially closed. 
 
 F2 
 
130 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 29. ELEMENTS OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 r 1. In Number 34 or 36. 
 
 CL Sounds 
 
 2. As to - 
 
 A. Tone 
 
 (a. ' 
 J ft. I 
 (c. J 
 
 3. In 
 f 1. In Number 26. 
 
 2. In Script called 
 
 B. Organic Con- 
 struction 
 
 f A. Pitch 
 
 Force 
 
 , Time 
 
 f A. Pit 
 1 B. Foi 
 ( C. Tin 
 
 Tonic. 
 
 Subtonic. 
 
 Atonic. 
 a. Oral-larynguala 
 6. Labials, 
 c. Linguals. 
 ^d. Palatals. 
 
 >- (See Tables.) 
 
 "A. Form (capital and small) 
 
 1 3. Print 
 
 B. Size 
 
 a. Round hand. 
 6. Running hand. 
 
 c. Epistolary hand. 
 
 d. Court hand. 
 
 e. German text, etc 
 a. Romanic, 
 ft. Italic, 
 c 0ltJ 2EttfllfsJ>. 
 
 <*• ©ermcrn $ert, 
 etc. 
 Bniiiant (the smallest). 
 
 b. Diamond. 
 C. Pearl. 
 
 d. Ruby. 
 
 e. Agate. 
 
 f. Nonpareil. 
 
 g. Minion, 
 h. Brevier. 
 
 i. Bourgeois, 
 j. Long Primer. 
 k. Small Pica. 
 i. Pica. 
 ^English. 
 
 * Great Primer. 
 
 ° Paragon. 
 
 Canon 
 
 (the largest that has a specific name). 
 
 ,C. Names 
 
 bee. 
 cee. 
 dee* 
 e. 
 ef. 
 gee. 
 aitch. 
 i. 
 
 jay. 
 kay. 
 el. 
 L em. 
 
 en. 
 
 o. 
 
 pee. 
 
 qu. 
 
 ar. 
 
 es. 
 
 tee. 
 
 u. 
 
 vee. 
 
 double-you. 
 
 eks. 
 
 y. 
 
 zee. 
 
 ( See Tables No. 1 and No. 2. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 131 
 
 ELEMENTS OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 Language is the expression of thought and feeling. It 
 may be oral, or expressed by sensible signs. 
 
 Oral language is expression by vocal sounds — articulate^ 
 as in speech ; or inarticulate, as in sighs, sobs, groans, etc. 
 
 /Sensible sign-language is expression by gesture, as in the 
 language of mutes, etc., or by letters, which appeal to the 
 sense of sight, as in written or printed composition. 
 
 Every indivisible portion of language is a primary ele- 
 ment or unit of language, and every unit has a sound, or a 
 sign and name. In written or printed language every sign 
 (letter of the alphabet) has a name, and represents one or 
 more units of sound ; but, unfortunately, every unit of sound 
 has not a name nor a visible sign. The sign h, for instance, 
 has a sound, as heard in hat, and a name, aitch ; but the 
 sound of a, as heard in dt,has no name, neither has it a sign 
 distinguishing it from a, as heard in the words fate, far, 
 fall. Diacritical marks, which indicate the precise sound 
 required, are sometimes used in dictionaries and spelling- 
 books; but these marked letters scarcely assume the dignity 
 of distinct signs, and are so seldom found in print as to fur- 
 nish quite inadequate assistance to native or foreign students 
 in the acquisition of the English language. The letter a, 
 for example, may stand for any one of seven sounds, un- 
 less it receive some one of the following marks, a, a, a, a, 
 a, a, a, to indicate the required sound, and, since these add- 
 ed marks are neither in general use in scientific or literary 
 works, nor uniform in dictionaries, thousands of words must 
 be arbitrarily learned. Again, as if to add to confusion, 
 there are from one to fourteen single and compound sig?is 
 to represent a solitary sound, and there are some sounds 
 without any signs. (See Table, " Elements of Language." 
 Note the pure sounds or units of speech, the sounds that 
 are common to several signs, and their equivalents, etc.) 
 There are about thirty-six sound-units, twenty-six sign-units, 
 and twenty-six names for the signs. 
 
1351 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 1. A unit of sound is an indivisible portion of spoken lan- 
 guage, and appeals to the ear. 
 
 2. A letter or sign-unit is an indivisible portion of written 
 or printed language, and appeals to the eye (or, in case of 
 blindness, to the sense of feeling). 
 
 Signs are known by their form, as R o m a n i c, ©15 (En- 
 glish Italic, ©ermcm^£ert, etc., each having twenty-six capi- 
 tals, and twenty-six corresponding small or "lower-case" 
 letters. 
 
 Printed signs are distinguished by their comparative size, 
 as brilliant (the smallest), diamond (the next larger size), 
 pearl, ruby, agate, nonpareil, etc., up to canon ,(the largest 
 which has a name) (see Table No. 29). Besides being dis- 
 tinguished by form and size, signs have each a name (twen- 
 ty-six in number), a, bee, cee, dee, ee, ef, je, aitch, etc. (see 
 Table No. 29). These names are expressions used in speak- 
 ing of the alphabet as initials, as R. H. Smith, LL.D. 
 
 units of speech (see Table, p. 8). 
 
 A unit of speech or sound-unit is an indivisible portion of 
 spoken language. The various positions and motions of the 
 organs of speech so modify vocalized breath as to produce 
 at least thirty-four distinct sounds or units of speech. 
 
 Those sound-units, produced with no obstruction of the 
 vocal tube (trachea, larynx, and mouth), are called vowels or 
 tonics ; those formed with the vocal tube entirely or partial- 
 ly closed at some point, are called consonants, or sub-tonics 
 and atonies. The three points or stations where the vocal 
 tube is closed or obstructed are at the lips, at the front pal- 
 ate (or roof near the front teeth), and at the back palate. 
 Those units formed by the obstruction at the lips are called 
 labials, those formed by an obstruction at the front palate 
 (or by the teeth and tongue) are called Unguals, and those 
 ! formed at the back palate are called palatals, or, less prop- 
 erly, gutturals. 
 
 Mem. 1. " Professor Willis, in experimenting on the nature 
 of sound, discovered that in placing a reed in a common 
 organ-pipe, the length of which could be varied at pleasure, 
 and forcing the air through it with a pair of bellows, he ob- 
 
ORTHOEPY. 133 
 
 tained, according to the length of the pipe (going from the 
 sound produced by the shortest to that produced by the 
 longest), the following series of sounds, as expressed by the 
 italicized vowels of the given words, viz.: l.me; 2. mate; 
 3. mar ; 4, maw ; 5. mow ; 6. myrrh ; 7. mood ; and that, con- 
 tinuing to lengthen the pipe, the same sounds were still 
 heard, but in an inverse order — 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ; and that, 
 still further increasing its length, the same identical sounds 
 again occurred, but in the first order ; and so on throughout." 
 — Cambridge Phil. Transactions, vol. iii., p. 231-262. 
 
 Rem. 2. " The natural order of the primary vowels, as de- 
 termined mechanically, is I, E, A, O, U, or TJ, O, A, E, I (i. e. y 
 e, a, a, o, oo, or oo, 6, a, a, e), as heard in the English words 
 field, vein, far, owe, ooze. This order should be well im- 
 pressed upon the memory." — Haldeman's Latin Prosody. 
 
 Mem. 3. " The closeness of e and oo approximates them to 
 the nearest consonant, into which they are apt to fall ; the 
 first into the semi-vowel y, and the last into the semi-vowel 
 w." Ah, however, from its extreme openness, is farthest re- 
 moved from the consonants. 
 
 Besides the formation names (labials, etc., see Table, p. 
 9), sound-units are classed and named with reference to 
 their tone or vocality, as, 1. Tonics; 2. Sub-tonics; and, 3. 
 Atonies; or, 1. Vocals; 2. Sub-vocals ; 3. Aspirates. 
 
 1 . A tonic is a full tone modified, but not interrupted in 
 the vocal tube, and capable of indefinite prolongation. 
 
 2. A sub-tonic is a sound which has less perfect vocality 
 than the tonic, and, being more or less interrupted in its 
 passage through the vocal tube, has less capacity for pro- 
 longation. 
 
 3. An atonic is an articulate breath-sound.* 
 
 The tonics comprise all the sounds of the vowels a, e, i, o, 
 u (w and y have no tonic sounds not found among the pure 
 sounds of the vowels). Phonologists (lifter very materially 
 as to the number of sounds in the English language, so that 
 
 * It is a sound, or it could not be heard, and it is articulate, or we could 
 not understand what is said ; i. e., it has a characteristic formation, yet it is 
 not vocal, or it would be capable of variations in pitch. Atonies can not be 
 said to have pitch. 
 
134 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 no system can be free from objection, however carefully pre- 
 pared. 
 
 In describing the sound-units called tonics, those which 
 require no change in the position of the organs of speech, 
 from their beginning to their close, are called pure or simple 
 tonics (see Table No. 2), while those that require a change of 
 position in the organs of speech during their formation are 
 called diphthongal tonics. 
 
 The diphthongal tonics have a radical or beginning, and 
 a vanish or close. The sound of a letter which can not be 
 distinguished from another sound, already attributed to 
 some letter as one of its pure sounds, is said to be common, 
 i. e., common to two or more sign-units or letters (see Table 
 No. 2). The sounds of a, as in all, and o, as in old, when 
 not so closely joined to a succeeding sound as to prevent 
 their completion, have each a vanish, or closing sound, dis- 
 tinct from the radical, or opening sound. 
 
 But, since the vanish is often omitted in unaccented syl- 
 lables and at other times, they are classed with the simple 
 vowels, and not with the diphthongs (see Principles of Pro- 
 nunciation in Webster, § 44, 50). 
 
 the tonic or vowel sounds. (See Table No. 6.) 
 
 Webster. 
 
 Worces- 
 ter. 
 
 
 
 
 A has four pure sounds and three common : 
 
 a (ae) 
 
 a (aT) 
 
 as in ale, or long a, "] 
 " at, or short a, 1 sounds 
 " far, or Italian a, f pme sounas - 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 " all, or broad a, J 
 
 a(g) 
 
 a 
 
 " dare, many (like short e prolonged, called com- 
 mon). 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 " ask, past, or intermediate (between short and Ital- 
 ian a). 
 
 »(3) 
 
 a 
 
 11 what (like short o, common). 
 
 E has two pure sounds and four common : 
 
 e 
 
 6 
 
 e 
 e 
 
 as in eve, or long e, ) SO rmds 
 " end, or short e, f pure sounas - 
 
 «(«) 
 
 c 
 
 " her, or e before r, trans-fer (common). 
 
 6(a) 
 
 e 
 
 u where (common). 
 
 fi(a) 
 
 e 
 
 " eight (common). 
 
 
 e(T) 
 
 11 pretty (common). 
 
 J has one diphthongal sound, one pure, and two com- 
 mon: 
 
 T(ae) 
 
 T (ue) 
 
 as in ice, or long i (diphthongal). 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 11 it, or short i, pure sound. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 
 
 13ft 
 
 Webster. 
 
 Worces- 
 ter. 
 
 
 1(e) 
 
 1 
 
 as in marine, or the French sound of i, like e Jong (com- 
 mon). 
 
 !•(«) 
 
 l 
 
 11 sir, fir, or the sound of u short (common). 
 
 1 
 
 i(y) 
 
 " union. 
 
 has three pure sounds and three common : 
 
 o 
 
 5 
 
 as in old, or long o, ) 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 u lot, or short o, Vpure sounds. 
 
 Q 
 
 6 
 
 " do, move, or long close o, ) 
 
 6 (a) 
 
 o(a) 
 
 " orb, form, like a broad (common). 
 
 6(u) 
 
 6(G) 
 o(u) 
 
 " s6n, 6ther, like short u (common). 
 
 9(V) 
 
 " WQlf, woman, like u in full (common). 
 
 
 
 U has two pure sounds, four common, and one diph- 
 
 5 (eo) 
 
 u (eo) 
 
 as in lute, or long u (diphthongal). [thongal : 
 
 
 u 
 u 
 
 « JP> orsh ^tu, I pure sounds. 
 " full, or obtuse u, ) * 
 
 B(a) 
 
 u(6) 
 
 " rule, sure (see Rule, p. 1), (common). 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 u urge (common). 
 
 u 
 
 m(9) 
 
 " bury (berry) (common). 
 
 u 
 
 u(T) 
 
 " business (bizness) (common). 
 TFhas one vowel sound, common: 
 
 w(o) 
 
 w 
 
 as in now (like o in do). 
 Fhas three sounds, common: 
 
 y(T) 
 
 y 
 
 as in by (like long 7). 
 
 y(i) 
 
 y 
 
 " sylph (like short I). 
 
 y(u) 
 
 y 
 
 " myrtle (like short w).. 
 
 - Beside the sounds already named, we have combined — 
 
 oo (o), as in moon (like o in do). 
 
 oo (y), as in foot (like u in full). 
 
 oo (5), as in floor (like o in more). 
 
 oo (u), as in flood (like u in up). 
 
 ou or ow (uy), as in our, flower (a union of u In up and u in full). 
 
 oi or oy (at), as in oil, boy (a union of a in ball and i in pin). 
 
 SUB-TONICS AND ATONICS. BY ORGANIC FORMATION. 
 
 Labials. 
 Those sounds whose peculiar characteristic is formed by 
 the position or action of the lips are called labials. They 
 are the sounds of m, p, b, v, f, w.* 
 
 1. M is produced by closing the lips and sending vocal- 
 ized breath through the nose. 
 
 2. P is produced by forcing breath suddenly through the 
 closed lips. 
 
 3. B is produced by closing the lips and making a vocal 
 sound in the throat before opening them. 
 
 * The sounds of m, b, p are nearly alike ; m is produced with the mouth 
 passage closed, and p is a whispered b ; n, d, t, and ng, g, k, have the same 
 or corresponding differences. 
 
136 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 4. F is produced by placing the under lip against the 
 edges of the upper incisor teeth, and audibly breathing 
 through them. 
 
 5. V is produced by placing the organs in the same posi- 
 tion as for the sound off, and making vocal the. breath as it 
 escapes. 
 
 6. W is produced by nearly closing the lips, making a 
 sound in the throat, and forcing it through them. 
 
 Unguals. 
 
 Those sounds whose peculiar characteristic is caused by 
 the special position or action of the tongue are called Un- 
 guals. They are n, d, t, th, th, s, z, r, 1. 
 
 1. The sound of n, as in noon, is produced by placing the 
 tip of the tongue against the interior upper gums, so as to 
 close the vocal tube, and emitting vocal sound through the 
 nose. 
 
 2. The sound of d, as in did, is produced by closing the 
 vocal tube as before, and forcing vocal sound through the 
 obstructions in the mouth. 
 
 3. The sound of t, as in tent, is produced by closing the 
 vocal tube, as described in No.l, and forcing breath through 
 the obstruction. 
 
 4. The sound of th, as in this, is produced by placing the 
 rim of the tongue against the edges of the upper teeth, and 
 emitting vocalized breath between them. 
 
 5. The sound of th, as in thin, is produced by joining the 
 teeth and tongue, as before, and emitting breath instead of 
 vocal sound. 
 
 6. The sound of s, as in son, is produced by pressing the 
 sides of the tongue against the teeth in such a way as to 
 leave a small passage down its centre, and forcing breath 
 through this channel, causing it to escape the teeth in a hiss. 
 
 7. The sound of z, as in zone, is formed by vocalizing the 
 breath as it escapes, instead of emitting it, as in s. 
 
 8. The sound of r, as in run, is produced by bringing the 
 sides of the tongue against the teeth, elevating the tip to- 
 ward the centre of the roof of the mouth, but leaving it free 
 to vibrate, and emitting vocal sound. 
 
ORTHOEPY. 137 
 
 9. The sound of I, as in lull, is formed by placing the tip 
 of the tongue against the front roof of the mouth, and emit- 
 ting vocal sound over the sides of the tongue. 
 
 Palatals. 
 Those sounds whose peculiar characteristic is caused by 
 the position or action of the palate are called palatals. They 
 are ng, g, k, c, or sh, z, ft, y; with the consonant triphthongs 
 ch and J.* 
 
 1. The sound of ng as in sing, or n in ink, is formed by 
 raising the base of the tongue against the palate, so as to 
 close the vocal tube at that point, and emitting vocal sound 
 through the nose with the lips open. 
 
 2. The sound of g, as in go, is produced by closing the vo- 
 cal tube at the palate and nasal passages (thus confining 
 the vocal sound in the throat), and suddenly expelling the 
 breath by way of the mouth. 
 
 3. The sound of &, as in kite, is formed by closing the vo- 
 cal tube at the palate and nasal passages, and forcing out a 
 puff of unvocalized breath. 
 
 4. The sound of sh as in shall, or c as in ocean, is formed 
 by bringing the sides of the tongue in contact with the roof 
 of the mouth, and sending a breath-sound through the^open- 
 ing thus formed. It is a sound midway between s and y. 
 (See Webster's Principles of Pronunciation.) 
 
 5. The sound of z (zh), as in azure, differs from sh only in 
 being vocal. 
 
 6. The sound of h,\ as in hat,is an emission of unvocalized 
 breath, through whatever position of the mouth-organs the 
 succeeding element requires, the organs being always placed 
 to form the next succeeding letter before the h is produced. 
 
 1. The subtonic sound of y, as in yes, is a sound approxi- 
 mating the vowel e, the sound of y being less pure in vocali- 
 ty because of a greater obstruction of the vocal tube. The 
 tongue is closer to the roof of the mouth in producing y than 
 in producing e. 
 
 * Ch and j are triphthongs (see Tables Nos. 3 and 6). 
 f H is not included with labials or Unguals, and has been placed among 
 the palatals. 
 
138 
 
 MANUAL OF READING 
 
 r I. Is term- 
 ed 
 
 1. High 
 
 2. Middle 
 
 J. Low 
 
 TABLE NO. 30. PITCH. 
 
 (A. An octave) 
 
 . A fifth > above the middle key. 
 . A third j 
 
 The natural key, as in ordinary conversation. 
 
 (A. A third ) 
 
 . A fifth > below the middle key. 
 . An octave ) 
 
 (A.. 
 
 Th( 
 (A.. 
 
 lis mon- 
 f otone 
 
 M 
 
 /A. Absolute (in music) ) ™««v«/i / \" » 
 
 \B. Apparent (in elocution) / marKed ( h 
 
 r»- w {?s g ( ( ?>. 
 
 I b. Comp. 
 or wave 
 
 a. Single {?«&*<& 
 fcDooble $&££ 
 
 £> (a. A third ^ r- m-i— r 
 
 & D » ^ b. A fifth V 4 J- ™2 4 from the radical pitch, 
 
 A .3 (c. An octave) l*>- Falling 1 
 
 A 
 c;5 
 
 0Q 
 
 p 
 
 a. Exclamation ( * ). 
 
 b. Affirmation (i)l 
 
 c Npffation / /«• Emphatic ( * ). 
 
 c. negation \&. Not emphatic (')• 
 
 d. Imperative ( \ ). 
 
 e. Interrogative {£ Sdfrei?^. 
 
 f. Apposition ( ^ ) ( ' ' ). 
 
 e -Antithesis (a. Single (W) ('>). 
 
 g. Antitnesis ^ Double ( * / '* ). 
 
 h Parenthesis (a. Suspension ('). 
 
 n. rarentnesis ^ Ad( f ition ( < )# 
 
 r Simnlo / a - Commencing (' ' * ')• 
 J bimple \b. Concluding (' / '* ). 
 i. Series ■< 
 
 Icomponndl-Commenc^o;^ 
 
 j. Cadence $^%%$l%£%+ 
 
 Jz. Penultimate clause. 
 
 | S (Emotion. 
 
 «S fa. Decided and remote, to express ^ Sentiment. 
 
 is j 
 
 .b. Proximate (by short steps) 
 
 (Thought. 
 
 {Climax. 
 Anticlimax. 
 Parenthesis. 
 
PITCH. 139 
 
 PITCH. 
 
 Pitch is the degree of elevation of the voice, or its posi- 
 tion upon the diatonic scale. 
 
 A scale is a series of sounds arranged in continuous as- 
 cent or descent, by measured intervals from any pitch or 
 key-note. 
 
 It is diatonic or semitonic. The former ascends or de- 
 scends mostly by whole tone intervals, two half tones occur- 
 ring once only in every seven. 
 
 The semitonic or chromatic scale* ascends and descends 
 altogether by half-tone intervals. f 
 
 An interval is the distance between any two points of the 
 scale. 
 
 A note is a sound at any given point in the scale. 
 
 Key-note is the first note. A key is said to be high, mid- 
 dle, or low, according as it is above, on, or below the natu- 
 ral or ordinary elevation. 
 
 A high key is any key above the middle or natural voice, 
 and is used in calling, shouting, commanding, etc. 
 
 A middle key is the one used in common conversation, 
 and, owing either to the structure of the vocal organs or to 
 habit, it varies with different people. It is used in narra- 
 tive or unimpassioned language. 
 
 A low key is any key below the middle or natural voice, 
 and is used in expressing revenge, solemnity, etc. 
 
 The high and low keys are more commonly heard at a 
 third, a fifth, or an octave above or below the middle key. 
 
 When the voice slides from one note of the scale to an- 
 other, higher or lower, the distance is called a concrete inter- 
 val ; when the voice steps from one note to another more re- 
 
 * "The name chromatic is derived from the fact that the intermediate 
 tones were formerly written and printed in colors. " — Webster. 
 
 t The diatonic scale is represented by the successive white keys of a pi- 
 ano ; the semitonic by the white and black keys successively. 
 
140 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 mote without a. continuous sound, the interval is called dis- 
 crete. Hence the interval between the first and second notes 
 of a scale may be either a discrete or a concrete interval of 
 a tone. The distance from the first note to the third of a 
 scale is called a discrete or a concrete interval of a third, 
 and the difference between the first and fifth is called a dis- 
 crete or a concrete interval of a fifth, etc. 
 
 HIGH KEYS. 
 
 A third above is a key three notes above the middle key, 
 and is used to make a number of people hear at the same 
 time. 
 
 A fifth above is a key five notes above the middle key, 
 and is used in lively and humorous delivery. 
 
 An octave, or eighth above, is a key eight notes above the 
 middle key, and is used in spirited declamation. 
 
 LOW KEYS. 
 
 A third below is a key three notes below the middle key, 
 and is used in expressing dignified sentiment. 
 
 A fifth below is a key five notes below the middle key, 
 and is used in giving utterance to solemn and impressive 
 thought. 
 
 An octave, or eighth below, is a key eight notes below the 
 middle key, and is used in language of deep solemnity. 
 
 MONOTONE. 
 
 In elocution, monotone is voice seemingly unvaried in 
 pitch. It expresses awe, reverence, solemnity, sublimity, 
 grandeur, majesty, power, splendor, amazement, all vastness 
 and force, and all preternatural emotions. It is also used, 
 in legal and statistical statefnents, where emotion is unnec- 
 essary. In music, monotone is absolute or uniform same- 
 ness of sound. 
 
 /VARIATIONS OF PITCH. 
 
 A change or variation of pitch on a single note or syllable 
 is inflection; on successive notes or syllables it is melody. y 
 
PITCH. 141 
 
 MELODY. 
 
 Melody is a pleasing succession of sounds in varied pitch. 
 In reading or speaking, melody consists principally of inflec- 
 tions and transitions of pitch, or modulation.* 
 
 Melody is diatonic or semitonic, the former being the pro- 
 gression of pitch through the interval of a whole tone, the 
 latter through that of a half tone or semitone. Diatonic 
 melody is used in narration, or to express simple thought ; 
 Bemitonic to express supplication, entreaty, etc. 
 
 Examples of Diatonic Melody. 
 "The cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a 
 man, and never fails to see a bad one. He is the human 
 owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, mousing for ver- 
 min, and never seeing noble game. The cynic puts all hu- 
 man actions into only two classes, openly bad and secretly 
 bad. He holds that no man does a good thing except for 
 profit. It is impossible to indulge in such habitual severity 
 of opinion uponvour fellow-men without injuring the tender- 
 ness and delicacy of our own feelings. A man will be what 
 his most cherished feelings are. If he encourages a noble 
 generosity, every feeling will be enriched by it ; if he nurse 
 bitter and envenomed thoughts, his own spirit will absorb 
 the poison,'and hd will crawl among men a burnished adder, 
 whose life is mischief, and whose errand is death." — BEECH- 
 SB. 
 
 Examples of Semitonic Melody. 
 "Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door." 
 
 Thomas Moss. 
 
 " The poor man alone, when he hears the poor moan, 
 Of his morsel a morsel will give. 
 
 Well-a-day !" Thomas Holcroft. 
 
 * Melody differs from harmony in that the latter is a pleasing union of 
 melodies, while the former is a succession of sounds constituting one melody. 
 
142 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 INFLECTION. 
 
 Inflection is the variation of pitch on a single note or 
 sound ; a bending or turning of the voice either upward or 
 downward on a single sound or syllable. 
 
 Inflections are distinguished as simple and compound ; the 
 latter are more commonly known as waves. When any of 
 these variations in pitch (whether simple or compound) end 
 in an upward turn of voice, they are called rising inflections, 
 and when they end in a downward turn of voice they are 
 termed falling inflections. 
 
 As in discrete sounds, the beginning of an inflection is 
 known as its " radical" and the end as its " vanish" or close. 
 
 A simple inflection is a single upward or downward move- 
 ment of voice in reading and speaking, and is distinguished 
 as rising (indicated by this mark, ^) or falling (indicated by 
 this mark, ^), according as its vanish is above or below its 
 radical. 
 
 A simple rising inflection is a single upward slide of the 
 voice, and suggests incomplete sense. 
 
 It is used in direct (and, in case of repetition, in indirect) 
 interrogation, in unemphatic negation, and in exclamations 
 of inquiry; as, 
 
 {Direct Interrogation.} Have you read the story of Ruth ? 
 
 {Indirect Interrogation. ) What did you say ? 
 
 {Unemphatic Negation.} I would rather not. 
 
 {Exclamation of Inquiry.) Ah ! Hallo ! (meaning "Is that true?" in the 
 first, and " It's you, is it ?" in the last interjection. 
 
 A simple falling inflection is a single downward slide of 
 the voice, and suggests complete sense. It is used in ex- 
 clamation, affirmation, emphatic negation, and in all impera- 
 tive expressions ; as, 
 
 {Exclamation.) Truth is eternal. 
 
 {Negation.) I tell you I will not. 
 
 {Imperative.) Get thee hence ! Leave me! Go! 
 
 A compound inflection, or ivave, is the union of two or 
 more simple inflections upon a single sound or syllable, and 
 expresses surprise, scorn, contempt, sarcasm, mockery, rail- 
 
PITCH. 143 
 
 leiy, irony, wit, admiration, sorrow, and often a contrast of 
 meaning. Example : Is that the law ? Waves are classed 
 as single or double. 
 
 A single wave is the union of two simple inflections, and 
 a double wave is the union of more than two simple inflec- 
 tions.* 
 
 Single waves are termed equal when the ascent and de- 
 scent are equal, otherwise unequal. 
 
 A single rising wave begins with the simple falling inflec- 
 tion, and ends with the simple rising inflection ; as, 
 
 (Equal Wave.) Gone to be friends ! 
 
 (Unequal Wave.) Must I budge? must I observe you? 
 
 A single falling wave begins with the simple rising inflec- 
 tion, and ends with the simple falling inflection; as, 
 (Equal Wave.) So, you have come. 
 (Unequal Wave.) "Tell me I hate the bowl? 
 
 I loathe, abhor — my very soul 
 With strong disgust is stirred 
 Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell 
 Of the dark beverage of hell." 
 
 A double rising wave is a union of three simple inflections, 
 beginning and ending with an upward turn of voice ; as, in 
 the play of Julius Cossar, where Cassius says to Brutus, 
 " You love me not !" Brutus replies, " I do not love your 
 faults /' and in The School for Scandal, where Sheridan 
 makes Sir Peter say to Lady Teazle, in the quarrel scene, 
 " Oons, madam ! if you had been born to this, I should not 
 wonder at your talking thus ; but you forget what your sit- 
 uation was when I married you." To which she replies, 
 " No, no, I don't ; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should 
 never have married you" 
 
 A double falling wave is the union of three simple inflec- 
 tions, beginning and ending with a downward turn of voice ; 
 as, 
 
 They cry for peace, when there is no peace. 
 
 * The Irish tone is replete with the simple falling wave, and the Scotch 
 with the simple rising wave. 
 
144 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 DEGREES OF INTERVALS. 
 
 A degree or interval of inflection is the space upon the 
 scale swept by the voice at one turn or slide. 
 
 The intensity of the speaker decides the length of intervals, 
 which is never less than a quarter tone, and seldom exceeds 
 an octave. 
 
 These intervals are commonly a third, a fifth, or an oc- 
 tave ; i. e. they include a variation of three, five, or eight 
 notes from the radical or opening pitch. 
 
 The rising third is used in moderate interrogation, empha- 
 sis, and expressions of surprise ; as, 
 
 (Interrogation.} Is it yours ? 
 
 (Emphasis.) No, it is not mine, but Mary's. 
 
 The falling thir d expresses emotions of mockery, derision, 
 impetuosity, and courage ; as, 
 
 (Mockery.) "What drugs, what charms, what conjuration, and what 
 mighty magic. " — Shakspeare. 
 
 (Derision.) " O excellent interpreter of the laws ! corrector and amend- 
 er of our Constitution!" — Cicero. 
 
 (Courage.) "Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din 
 Of fife, and steed, and trump,' and drum, and roaring cul- 
 verin !" — Macaulay. 
 
 The rising fifth expresses emotions of wonder, admiration, 
 inquiry, doubt, and interrogation, and emphasis stronger 
 than is expressed by the rising third ; as, 
 
 (Interrogation ("I said an elder soldier, not a better. 
 and Emphasis.) \ Did I say better?" — Julius Caesar. 
 
 (Strong Emphasis. ) ' ' Fail ! 
 
 In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves 
 For a bright manhood, there is no such word 
 As— fail!" — Bulwer's Play of Richelieu. 
 
 The falling fifth expresses determination, indignant t& 
 buke, and excessive grief; as, 
 
 (Determination.) " 'To arms! to arms!' cried Mortimer, 
 
 And couched his quivering lance." — Gray. 
 
 (Rebuke.) " Yet this is Rome, 
 
 That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne 
 Of beauty ruled the world." — Mitford. 
 
PITCH. 145 
 
 r "Grant me another year, God of my spirit, 
 But a day to win something to satisfy 
 (bupph- J ij^-g t hi rst w ithin. I would know something here. 
 ca ton.) B rea k f or me but one seal that is unbroken, 
 
 i Speak for me but one word that is unspoken." — Willis. 
 
 A rising octave expresses the most forcible interrogation 
 and emphasis, contempt, mirth, raillery, and astonishment ; 
 as, 
 
 (Interrogation.) You come to teach the people ? 
 
 Gesler. " You look upon your boy 
 
 As though instinctively you guessed it, 
 
 ( Tell. Look upon my boy ? What mean you ? 
 (Astonish' ) Look upon my boy . ag tn0U gh i guessed it— 
 
 . (. • Guessed the trial you'd have me make?" — Knowles. 
 
 A falling octave expresses intense scorn and indignation ; 
 
 as, ^ 
 
 You pretend to teach a British general! 
 
 Speech of Lord Chancellor Thurlow in reply to the 
 Duke of Grafton. 
 
 1. My Lords, — lam amazed at the attack the noble duke 
 has made upon me. Yes, my lords, I am amazed at his 
 grace's speech. The noble duke can not look before him, 
 behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some 
 noble peer who owes his seat in this house to his successful 
 exertions in the 'profession to which I belong. 
 
 2. Does he not feel that it is as honorable to owe it to 
 these as to being the accident of an accident ! To all these 
 noble lords the language of the noble duke is as applicable 
 and as insulting as it is to myself. But I do not fear to 
 meet it single and alone. No one venerates the peerage 
 more than I do ; but, my lords, I must say that the peerage 
 solicited me — not I the peerage. 
 
 3. Nay, more ; I can and will say, that as a peer of Parlia- 
 ment, as speaker of this right honorable house, as keeper of 
 the great seal, as guardian of his majesty's conscience, as 
 lord high chancellor of England — nay, even in that character 
 alone in which the noble duke would think it an affront to 
 be considered — as a max, I am at this moment as respects 
 
 Q 
 
146 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 ble, I beg leave to add, as much respected, as the proudest 
 peer I now look down upon. 
 
 The duke had, in the House of Lords, reproached Lord Thurlow with 
 his plebeian extraction and his recent admission to the peerage. Lord 
 Thurlow rose from the woolsack, and, fixing on the duke almost the look 
 of Jove when he grasps the thunder, he spoke as above ; and the effect of 
 his speech was so great that it gave him an ascendency, both within the 
 walls of the House and out of them, which no other chancellor ever pos- 
 sessed. It should be given with great and increasing energy. 
 
 RULES FOR INFLECTION.* 
 
 Rule 1. Exclamations usually take the falling inflection-, 
 as, 
 
 11 Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war; 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. " — Macaulay. 
 
 Rule 2. An affirmative clause or sentence takes the falling 
 inflection; as, 
 
 "The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the 
 world, and they that dwell therein." — Psalm xxiv. 
 
 Note. — Indifferent answers to questions take the rising 
 inflection ; as when, in reply to the question " Which do 
 you prefer?" one says, "I have no choice." 
 
 Rule 3. A negative clause or sentence requires the rising 
 inflection, unless made emphatic for the sake of force ; as, 
 
 * A few rules for inflection are here introduced, which may prove valuable 
 in the hands of judicious teachers. No one of them should be given with- 
 out explanation and example suited to the comprehension of all the pupils 
 in the class. 
 
 Children upon the play-ground, or in unchecked conversation, give the 
 most appropriate and natural inflections possible. They find no difficulty 
 in expressing emotions of joy or sorrow, hope or fear, forgiveness or retalia- 
 tion, whenever these emotions are excited. These are true models of ex- 
 pression. But as soon as they learn to conceal their feelings, and to read 
 or speak the thoughts of others, they lose this property of intonation, and 
 acquire mannerisms. After this, much time and money is often required 
 to teach them how to do mechanically what was once so natural and invol- 
 untary. 
 
 In giving the following rules and illustrations, the teacher should be sure 
 that the class understands them, and can make practical application of them 
 to examples selected from the book. Unnecessary pauses and undue em- 
 phasis should be avoided. Let the examples be smoothly and continuously 
 rendered, so that every sentence may be borne, as it were, on a wave of sound. 
 
PITCH. 147 
 
 ( Unemphatic.) O no ! that is not the law ! 
 (Emphatic.) I say that is not the law ! 
 
 Note. — When a negative phrase or clause is contrasted 
 with an affirmative one, whether first or last in the order of 
 construction, the rule is the same ; as, " I said this book, not 
 that;" or, "I did not say this book,Jmt that." "It was 
 black, not white ;" or, " It was not white, but black." 
 
 Rule 4. An imperative sentence takes the falling inflec- 
 tion; as, 
 
 " Stride ! till the last armed foe expires ; 
 Strilie ! for your altars and your fires." 
 
 " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be 
 wise." — Bible. 
 
 " Hence ! horrible shadow !" 
 
 Rule 5. A direct interrogation, or a question that can be 
 answered by Yes or No, takes the rising inflection ; as, 
 
 "To purchase heaven has gold the power? 
 Can gold remove the mortal hour ? 
 In life can love be bought with gold,? 
 Are friendship's pleasures to be sold ?" 
 
 Note. — When, by strong emphasis on the first or auxilia- 
 ry verb, a direct question anticipates an affirmative reply, it 
 takes a falling inflection ; as, "Is this true ? Can you be- 
 lieve it ? Has not reason prevailed ?" 
 
 Rule 6. An indirect interrogation, or a question that can 
 not be answered by Yes or No, takes the falling inflection ; as, 
 
 " Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, and who 
 shall stand in his holy place ?" — Bible. 
 
 Note 1. — If the question be repeated, it takes the rising 
 inflection ; as, " Which way did you say ?" 
 
 Note 2. — Sometimes the meaning of a question is decided 
 by an inflection, making it direct or indirect ; as, " Will you 
 read Pope or Milton?" Ans. "Pope." It is a direct ques- 
 tion when both nouns receive the rising inflection ; as, "Will 
 you read Pop'e or Milton ?" " Yes." 
 
 Rule 7. Words or phrases in apposition take the same in- 
 flection ; as, 
 
 "Absalom, my son, was my staff." 
 ; " Victoria is the daughter of Edward, duke of Kent." 
 
148 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 a We will go to Brooklyn, the City of Churches." 
 Rule 8. Words or phrases in contrast or antithesis take 
 opposite inflection ; as, 
 
 f "They sang of love, and not of fame — 
 (Single An- J Forgot was Britain's glory ; 
 
 tithesis.) \ Each heart recalled a different name, 
 
 { But all sang 'Annie Laurie. ' " — Bayard Taylor. 
 
 (Double Antithesis.) " The difference between a madman 
 and a fool is, the former reasons justly from false data, and 
 the latter erroneously from just data." 
 
 "Prosperity gains friends; adversity tries them." 
 " It is harder to avoid censure than to gain applause." 
 Rule 9. Words or phrases in a parenthesis, suspending 
 the sense, take the rising inflection ; as, 
 
 "But here's a parchment with the seal of Ca3sar. 
 I found it in his closet : 'tis his will. 
 Let but the commons hear this testament 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read), 
 And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood — 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
 And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
 Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
 Unto their issue." — Shakspeare. 
 
 Rule 10. Words or phrases in a parenthesis, making addi- 
 tion to the complete sense, take the falling inflection ; as, 
 
 " In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, 
 So far as I know, but a tree and truth. 
 (This is a moral that runs at large ; 
 Take it. — You're welcome. — No extra charge.)" — Holmes. 
 
 Note. — When the sense is reopened by the parenthetical 
 addition, the voice is kept up at the close of the parenthesis. 
 
 SERIES. 
 
 A series is a succession of particulars, at least three in 
 number. Series are classed as simple and compound, either 
 of which may be a commencing or a concluding series. 
 
 A simple series is one whose members are single in word 
 or idea ; as, 
 
 In my garden are apples, | peaches, | plums, | and pears. J 
 
PITCH. 149 
 
 A Series is compound when the members comprise several 
 words, or convey more than one idea ; as, 
 
 " From every battle-field of the Revolution — from Lexing- 
 ton and Bunker Hill — from Saratoga and Yorktowii — from 
 the fields of Eutaw — from the cane-brakes that sheltered the 
 men of Marion, the repeated, long-prolonged echoes came up, 
 ' The Union : it must be preserved.' " — Bancroft. j 
 
 A series is commencing when the sense is not complete at 
 the close of the series ; as, 
 
 Men, | women, | and children | were seen in the park. 
 
 A series is concluding when the sense is complete with 
 the series ; as, 
 
 I saw in the park men, | women, | and children. | 
 
 Mules for the Inflection of Series. 
 
 Rule 11. A simple commencing series should have the 
 rising inflection on every member but the penultimate, or 
 last but one ; as, 
 
 (JVbans.) Mary, | Sarah, | James, | and John | were at the 
 fair last week. 
 
 (Adjectives.) A beautiful, | accomplished, | and amiable | 
 lady | lives in the house on the hill.* 
 
 ( Verbs.) He sees, hears, and feels as well as ever he did. 
 
 Rule 12. A simple concluding series takes the rising in* 
 flection on every member but the ultimate, or last ; as, 
 
 At the fair last week I saw Mary, Sarah, James, and Jofih. 
 
 In the house on the hill lives a lady, beautiful, accom- 
 plished, and amiable. 
 
 He can still hear, see, and feel. 
 
 Rule 13. A compound commencing series takes the fall- 
 ing inflection on every member but the ultimate, or last, 
 which takes a strong rising inflection ; as, t 
 
 (<) "From every valley in our land, | from every cabin 
 on the pleasant mountain sides, | from the ships at our ' 
 wharves, | from the tents of the hunter in our westernmost : 
 prairies, | from the living minds of the living millions of ; 
 American freemen, | from the thickly coming glories of fu- 
 
 * A series of adjectives takes the noun as one of its members, in the 
 application of the rule for inflection. 
 
150 MANUAL OP BEADING. 
 
 turity, | the shout went up, like the sound of many waters, 
 * The Union : it must and shall be preserved.' " — Ban- 
 croft. 
 
 Commence this series in moderate time and force, and increase in volume 
 to the last member of the series, which receives a full rising inflection. 
 
 Rule 14. A compound concluding series takes the falling 
 inflection on every member but the penultimate, or last but 
 one; as, 
 
 ".We hold these truths to be self evident : that all men 
 are created equal ; | that they are endowed by their Creator 
 with certain inalienable rights ; | that among these are life, 
 liberty, and the pursuit of happiness ; |" — Const, of U. S. 
 
 Rule 15. A long Series. — When a series exceeds five 
 members, divide it into two or more shorter series, and 
 read each division according to the rule which would apply 
 to the entire series ; as, 
 
 In him was genius, | judgment, | memory, | learning, |[ cir- 
 cumspection, | reflection, | application. 
 
 The series, as a whole, would follow the rule for simple 
 concluding series (ISTo. 12), hence each of the shorter series 
 should be read accprding to that rule. 
 
 Rule 16. Antithetical Series. — When each member of a 
 series contains an antithesis, the rule for antithesis should 
 be applied to each member, and the whole series should be 
 read according to the rule for that particular series ; as, 
 
 " Talent is power, tact is skill ; | talent is weight, tact is 
 momentum ; | talent knows what to do, tact knows how to 
 do it ; | talent makes a man respectable, tact will make him 
 respected ; | talent is wealth, tact is ready money. |" — Lon- 
 don Atlas. 
 
 " I have spoken but of feelings and associations common 
 to all ages, and all generations of men ; | to the rifde and 
 the polished; | to the barbarian and the civilized; | to the 
 bond and the free ; | to the inhabitant of the dreary forests 
 of the north and the sultry regions of the south ; | to the 
 worshiper of the sun, and the worshiper of idols ; | to the 
 heathen, dwelling in the darkness of his cold mythology ; | 
 and to the Christian, rejoicing in the light of the true 
 GocL | w — Stobt. 
 
 These examples follow the rule for compound concluding 
 
PITCH. 151 
 
 series (No. 14), while each antithesis follows the rule (No. 
 8) for antithesis. 
 
 Rule 17. Irregular Series. — When a series is mixed in 
 form, being part simple and part compound, read it accord- 
 ing to* the rule for compound series, with such inflections 
 upon the members of the simple series as shall not interfere 
 with the whole. 
 
 " Oh for a prophet's eye to look into the future ! If it 
 be the destiny of America to administer with fidelity, wis- 
 dom, and success her free institutions ; | to spread them over 
 the whole continent, filling it with a numerous, enlight- 
 ened, industrious, moral, and contented people — one in 
 name, one in government, one in power ; | to build up here 
 an empire, the last and the noblest offspring of Time, | this 
 whole accumulated greatness will constantly tend to exalt 
 higher and higher in the estimation of mankind him who will 
 forever *be deemed the founder of it all." — Francis C. Gray. 
 
 This is a concluding series of three members (beginning 
 with "to administer," "to spread," "to build"), and con- 
 tains three simple series, one in the first, and two in the 
 second member of the series. 
 
 SENTENTIAL INFLECTIONS, OR CADENCES. 
 
 Cadence is the falling of the voice in reading or speak- 
 ing, especially at the end of a sentence. 
 
 The sentential inflections arise from the construction of 
 sentences. They are the closing slides, or cadence, and the 
 rising slide upon the last clause before the cadence called 
 the penultimate slide. 
 
 Rule 1. The full cadence of complete sense, at the close 
 of a full period, is made by three " concretes,"* gradually 
 descending in their radical pitch ; as, 
 
 " The mean of true valor lies between the extremes of 
 cowardice and rashness." — Cervantes. 
 
 (cowardice ancl rash x 
 ness. ) 
 
 * Sounds, it must be remembered, are discrete when separate or de- 
 tached, and concrete when blended or united in succession, so as to dis- 
 cover no joinings. The former are illustrated by touching successive keys 
 of the piano, and the latter by sliding the hands along the strings of a 
 violin while drawing the bow. 
 
152 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 Rule 2. " The partial cadence of complete sense, but in- 
 complete period, has the rising ditone* on the first and 
 second of the three closing syllables, and the concrete of the 
 second with a downward vanish on the third." — Russel. 
 
 "Feelings come and go like light troops following the 
 victory of the present ; but principles, like troops of the 
 line, are undisturbed and stand fast." — Richtee. 
 
 Rule 3. The penultimate is the upward slide of voice be- 
 fore the full cadence ; as, 
 
 " He who considers himself a paragon of wisdom is sure 
 to commit some superlatively stupid act." — Tieck. 
 
 Transition or Modulation. 
 
 Transition or modulation is a changing of the pitch-note 
 to a higher, or lower degree of elevation, in obedience to 
 emotion, sentiment, or thought. It is generally attended 
 with a change of both force and time. 
 
 Modulation may be decided and distant, or proximate, by 
 short steps. The decided transition is a sudden change from 
 one key to another several notes above or below that key. 
 It is used to express a contrast, or change of emotion, senti- 
 ment, or thought. 
 
 {Jf.IIigh.) "Give me another horse! bind up my wounds ! 
 
 Have mercy, Jesu ! {pp. Low.) Soft, I did but dream." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 (" Try nofr the pass !" (m.) the old man said. 
 {High.) < " Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
 
 (The roaring torrent's deep and wide !" 
 {Medium.) And loud that clarion voice replied, 
 {High. ) ' ' Excelsior ! " — Longfellow. 
 
 The proximate transition is a change from one key to an- 
 other not far distant, which may be continued from word to 
 word, or phrase to phrase, up or down the scale, as emotion 
 or thought indicates. It is used to express climax and anti- 
 climax. One step below is used in parenthetical words or 
 passages, also to place unimportant allusions and explana- 
 tions in the background, so to speak, of the main thought. 
 
 {Climax.) "If I were an American, as I am an English- 
 * An interval comprehending two whole tones. 
 
PITCH. 
 
 153 
 
 man, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I nev* 
 er would lay down my arms — NEVER, never, never" 
 
 (Parenthesis.) " That patriotism which (catching its inspi- 
 ration from God) animates and prompts to deeds of self-sac* 
 rifice, of valor, of devotion, and of death itself— that is pub- 
 lic virtue, that is the noblest, the sublimest of all public 
 virtues." 
 
 There is a transition of syllables which seems very nearly 
 related to inflection. These turns of voice correspond with 
 compound inflections or waves so precisely as to be called 
 inflections by those who have not compared them. Thus 
 the compound rising wave of a third may take the notes 
 
 mi, do, mi 
 
 dp) 
 
 concretely. 
 
 Give this turn or slide to one syllable or sound, and it is 
 inflection ; when, however, it be given to three successive 
 syllables or monosyllables, it is not inflection, but transition ; 
 for a syllable being one impulse of voice, a turn or slide of 
 voice can not be given to more than one syllable concretely, 
 but will be divided into as many discretes as there are syl- 
 lables. , If this be true of the syllables of a word, it is also 
 true of successive syllables that do not belong to one word, 
 and would include an unlimited number of inflections, while 
 it destroyed the simplicity of transitions. 
 
 NoUs. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Transitions on 
 
 Transitions on mono- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 G '-&• m - 
 
 m 
 
 ven 
 
 in, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 -<3>- """ -&- 
 
 No. 
 
 Wan ca. 
 
 Go 7 sir. 
 
 r-mcZJ 
 
 Iven-. — JyT 
 
 IcEne — rrT _me.' 
 
 So con lent Come with 
 
 ZaT^geflT: 
 G2 
 
 -Can 
 
 -<S>- 
 
 -S>. 
 
 alF 
 
 you himT 
 
154 
 
 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 TABLE NO. 31. FORCE. 
 
 fl. Very soft, marked pp. (pianissimo). 
 
 'I. Divisions 
 of 
 
 II. Applied 
 to a 
 
 2. Soft, 
 
 3. Middle, 
 
 4. Loud, 
 
 ^5. Very loud, 
 
 1. Sound is stress 
 
 2. Syllable is accent 
 
 3. Word is emphasis 
 
 h. Phrase or sentence 
 
 p. (piano) . 
 
 m. (mezzo), 
 
 f. (forte), 
 
 ff. (fortissimo). 
 
 r A. Kinds 
 
 {Radical, marked : 
 Final, "   
 
 Median, " -c 
 
 Compound, " > 
 Thorough, " , 
 Tremor, " * 
 
 {Effusive. 
 Expulsive. 
 Explosive. 
 
 ( A. Primary, or tonic. 
 \B. r 
 
 Secondary, or euphonic, 
 
 r Sense 
 
 (Absolute ) (Single. 
 (Antithetic/ (Double. 
 
 L Emotion 
 
 (single 
 
 (Exclamation* 
 (Repetition. 
 ( Cumulative. 
 
 f Uniformly is sustained force. 
 
 ^Varied 
 
 ( Irregularly. 
 
 * Volume is force and quantity combined. 
 
 t Regularly increasing and decreasing in force to the close or to the middle of a 
 Dhraae or sentence producing climax and anti-climax. See Table No. 10, not* 16. 
 
FORCE. 155 
 
 DYNAMICS, OR FORCE. 
 
 Dynamics treats of the power or force of sounds. 
 
 Force is the result of action. In plocution, force is the 
 degree of energy with which words are spoken. Degrees 
 of force depend upon the intensity of the given power. They 
 arc indefinite in number, but three are deemed sufficient for 
 reference. 1st, soft or weak; 2d, middle or moderate; and, 
 3d, heavy or strong. % 
 
 Note. — Force should not be confounded with loudness, 
 because sound can be produced with great force in a whis- 
 per as well as in a shout. 
 
 1. Soft or weak utterance is the result of little exertion, 
 whether arising from organic weakness or from sentiment. 
 It expresses pity, admiration, endearment, tenderness, grief, 
 and the like. 
 
 {Pity.) " Give me three grains of corn, mother, 
 
 Only three grains of corn ; 
 It will keep the little life I have 
 Till the coming of the morn. 
 I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, 
 
 Dying of hunger and cold ; 
 And half the agony of such a death 
 
 My lips have never told." — Mrs. Edmund. 
 {Endearment.) "Look at me with thy large brown eyes, 
 Philip, my king, 
 Round whom the shadowing purple lies 
 
 Of babyhood's royal dignities. 
 Lay on my neck thy tiny hand, 
 
 With love's invisible^ceptre laden. 
 * I am thine, Esther, to command 
 
 Till thou shalt find a queen handmaiden, 
 
 Philip, my king."— Miss Mulock. 
 
 ( Whisper.) " Breathe it not aloud ; the wild winds must not hear it." 
 
 2. Middle or moderate utterance is the result of little en- 
 ergy or exertion. It expresses reverence, and is / used in 
 narration and description. 
 
 (Narrative.) " The Irish peasant has at all periods been 
 
loQ MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 peculiarly distinguished for unbounded but indiscriminate 
 hospitality. To be in want or misery is the best recommen- 
 dation to his disinterested protection ; his food, his bed, his 
 raiment are equally the stranger's and his own ; and the 
 deeper the distress, the more welcome is the sufferer to the 
 peasant's cottage." — Sir J. Barrington. 
 
 (Description.') " Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, 
 A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
 Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
 (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems 
 That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. " 
 
 Shakspeare, Dream of Clarence. 
 
 {Reverence) " The nation rises up at every stage of his 
 coming ; cities and states are as pall-bearers, and the cannon 
 beats the hours in solemn progression ; dead, dead, dead, he 
 yet speaketh. Is Washington dead? Is Hampden dead? 
 Is David dead ? Is any man that ever was fit to live dead ? 
 Disenthralled from the flesh, and risen to the unobstructed 
 sphere where passion never comes, he begins his illimitable 
 work. His life is now grafted upon the Infinite, and will be 
 fruitful as no earthly life can be. Pass on. Four years 
 ago, oh Illinois, we took from your midst an untried man 
 from among the people. Behold, we return him to you a ' 
 mighty conqueror, not thine any more, but the nation's ; not 
 ours, but the world's. Give him place, oh ye prairies ! In 
 the midst of this great continent his dust shall rest, a sacred 
 treasure to myriads, who shall pilgrim to that shrine to kin- 
 dle anew their patriotism. Ye winds, that move over the 
 mighty spaces of the West, chant his requiem ! Ye people, 
 : behold the martyr, whose drops of blood, as so many articu- 
 late words, plead for fidelity, for law, for liberty." — Beech- 
 er's Sermon on Lincoln. 
 
 (Whisper.) " And the bridemaidens whispered, * 'Twere better by far, 
 
 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar. ' " 
 
 Scott. 
 
FORCE. 157 
 
 3. Heavy or strong utterance is the result of great energy 
 or exertion. It expresses anger, defiance, and command. It 
 is used in calling, shouting, rage, and fear. 
 
 Ex. {Anger.) " So you will fly out ! can't you be cool like 
 me ? What good can passion do ? Passion is of no service, 
 you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There you 
 sneer again ! Don't provoke me ! but you rely upon the 
 mildness of my temper, you do, you dog : you play upon the 
 meekness of my disposition ! yet take care ; the patience of 
 a saint may be overcome at last ! But mark ! I give you 
 six hours and a half to consider of this : if you then agree, 
 without any condition, to do every thing on earth that I 
 choose, why — confound you, I may in time forgive you." — 
 Sheridan, The Rivals. 
 
 (Defiance.) " I loathe you with my bosom ! I scorn you with mine eye ! 
 
 And I'll taunt you with my latest breath, and fight you till I 
 
 die! 
 I ne'er will ask for quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave, 
 But I'll swim the sea of slaughter till I sink beneath the 
 wave." — The Seminole's Reply. 
 CCommand.) " Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man 
 As modest stillness and humility ; 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage : 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostrils wide ; 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height ! On, on, you noble English, 
 Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof — 
 Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have in these parts from morn till even fought, 
 And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start : the game's afoot ; 
 Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge 
 Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George!" 
 
 Shaxspear*. 
 (Calling.) "How yet resolves the governor of the town ? 
 This is the latest parle we will admit. 
 Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves ; 
 
158 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Or, like to men proud of destruction, 
 
 Defy us to our worst ; for, as I am a soldier 
 
 (A name that in my thoughts becomes me best), 
 
 If I begin the battery once again, 
 
 I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur 
 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
 
 The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ; 
 
 And the flushed soldier, rough and hard of heart, 
 
 In liberty of bloody hand shall range, 
 
 Mowing like grass your fresh, fair virgins 
 
 And your flowering infants. 
 
 Therefore, you men of Harfleur, 
 Take pity of your town and of your people 
 While yet my soldiers are in my command. " 
 
 Shakspeare, Henry V, 
 {Shouting.) " ' Jump, far out, boy, into the wave ! 
 Jump, or I fire !' he said ; 
 • This chance alone your life can save. 
 Jump ! JUMP !' The boy obeyed. " — Geo. P. Morris. 
 (Rage.) "Mind and charge home, 
 
 Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, 
 And make my wars on you : look to't ! come on !" 
 
 (Mar, intense Whisper.) "Hark ! I hear the bugles of the 
 enemy ! They are on their march along the bank of the riv- 
 er. We must retreat instantly, or be cut off from our boats. 
 I see the head of their column already rising over the height. 
 Our only safety is in the screen of this hedge. Keep close 
 to it ; be silent ; and stoop as you run. For the boats ! 
 Forward !" 
 
 Additional force may be given to a sound, syllable, word, 
 phrase, or sentence. 
 
 It receives the name stress when applied to a sound, ac- 
 cent when applied to a syllable, and emphasis when applied 
 to a word, phrase, or sentence. 
 
 Accent produces rhythm, stress expresses more or less 
 of the emotional condition of the speaker, while emphasis 
 makes plain the meaning of the author. 
 
 STRESS. 
 
 Stress is the special application of force to some part of 
 an accented sound or syllable.* The degrees of stress are^ 
 * See Accent, p. 162. 
 
FORCE. 159 
 
 three — effusive, expulsive, and explosive (i. e., moderate, full, 
 and abrupt JT ^ ^ 
 
 ! 1. Effusive stress is a moderate use of breath or voice ma- \ a i* 
 Iferial while producing sounds, and indicates a placid e mo - 1 ]l/* 
 tional condition, an unruffled temper ; as, — — ** 
 
 " Where, where will be the birds that sing 
 A hundred years to come ? 
 The flowers that now in beauty spring 
 A hundred years to come?" * m i 
 
 2. Expulsive stress is produced by forcibly expelling the 
 breath while speaking or producing sounds, and indicates a I 7 
 more positive emotional condition or earnestness ofpuj>— ^ 
 pose ; as, ^ - ^-^** -- 
 
 " There ! there is the liquor which God, the eternal, brews 
 for all his children ! Not in the simmering still, over smok- 
 ing fires, choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with 
 the stench of sickening odors and rank corruption, doth 
 your Father in heaven prepare the precious essence of life, 
 pure cold water; but in the green glade and glassy dell, 
 where the wild deer wanders, and the child loves to play, 
 ther e God himself brews it !" — Paul Denton. 
 
 3. Explosive stress is a degree of force produced by pro- 
 jecting the breath abruptly or violently, and indicates an 
 
 * intense emotional condition ; as, 
 \^****^ " See, Boy Briton, see, boy, see ! 
 
 They strike ! hurrah ! the fort has surrendered ! 
 
 Shout ! shout, my warrior boy ! 
 And wave your cap, and clap your hands with joy ! 
 Cheer answer cheer, and bear the cheer about — 
 Hurrah ! hurrah !" — Wilson. 
 
 Kinds of Stress. 
 s Every sound or syllable must have a beginning, a middle, 
 and an end, and force applied to these divisions in various 
 ways produces six kinds of stress; viz., radical, final, me- 
 dian, compound, thorough, and intermittent (or tremor). It 
 is called, 
 
 1. Radical when the force gradually diminishes from the 
 beginning to the end of the sound or syllable. When in- 
 tense, it expresses command, anger, defiance (a, e, i, o, u). 
 
160 > MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 (Effusive.} "Can storied urn or animated bust 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
 
 Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ?" — Gray. 
 (Expulsive.} "Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
 Then rushed the steed to battle driven ; 
 And louder than the bolts of heaven, 
 Far flashed the red artillery." 
 
 (^Explosive.} "The combat deepens. On, ye brave, 
 Who nish to glory or the grave. 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, 
 And charge with all thy chivalry !" — Campbell. 
 
 2. Final, when the force gradually increases to the end 
 of the sound or syllable, and closes abruptly. It express- 
 es contempt, scorn, impatience, determination, or revenge 
 
 (a,e,T, o,u). 
 
 (Effusive.} "Click, click, click! how the needles go." 
 (Expulsive.} "Come back! come back! he cried, in grief." 
 (Explosive.} "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest, 
 
 Who, with thy hollow breast still in rude armor dress'd, 
 
 Com'st to haunt me !" 
 
 3. Median, or middle stress, when the force is greatest at 
 the middle of the sound or syllable. It is smooth-flowing, 
 and expresses reverence, patriotism, and affection (*a^ e # 
 
 T ^ T). : 
 
 (Effusive.} "There's a land far away, 'mid the stars, we are told, 
 Where they know not the sorrows of time ; 
 Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold, 
 And life is a treasure sublime." — Clark. 
 
 (Expulsive.} " Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are, 
 And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre ! 
 Now let there be the meny sound of mfisic and of dance, 
 Through thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, O pleasant , 
 land of France. " — Macatjlay.- 
 
 {Explosive.} " l Cnarge, Chester, cfiarge ! onT Stanley,"on!' 
 Were the last words of Marmion." — ScottC 
 
 4. Compound, when the force is least in the middle of 
 the sound or syllable, i. e., the force gradually decreases to 
 
FORCE. 161 
 
 the middle and then increases to the end. It is the radical 
 and final stress united on one syllable or sound (a, e, 
 i, o, u ). It expresses sarcasm, irony, extreme surprise, 
 petulance, and provocation. 
 
 "Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! 
 False blood to false blood joined ! gone to be friends ! 
 Shall Louis have Blanche, and Blanche these provinces ?" 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 5. Thorough, when the successive syllables have little 
 apparent increase or diminution of force. It is often pro- 
 duced with beating regularity, like staccato in music, and 
 expresses command or hilarity, and is used in calling, warn- 
 
 -ii . fl p ^. Q a 
 
 ing, and threatening (a, e, 1, o, u). 
 
 {Effusive.) *'Good-by, proud world! I'm going home. 
 
 Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine." 
 
 EMERSON. 
 
 {Expulsive.) " If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, 
 Would strike together and restore it ; 
 If Right made Might in every fight, 
 The world would be the better for it." — Clark. 
 CExylosive.) "Flashed all their sabres bare, 
 Flashed as they turned in air, 
 Sab 'ring the gunners there ; 
 Charging an army, while 
 
 All the world wondered : 
 Plunged in the battery smoke, 
 Right through the line they broke ; 
 Cossack and Russian 
 Reeled from the sabre-stroke 
 
 Shattered and sundered. 
 Then they rode back, but not, 
 Not the Six Hundred." — Tennyson. 
 
 6. Tremor, when the voice moves unevenly or trembles 
 on the syllables. It is an intermittent stress, and expresses 
 feebleness, tenderness, admiration, and subdued grief or joy 
 
 (1TT 7T i, o, u ). 
 (Effusive.) Grief. 
 
 " 'And shall I never see thee more, 
 Mine own delightful home ! 
 Nor fetterless as the free winds 
 Among thy green fields roam? 
 
162 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 Those singing brooks ! and shall their tones 
 Be never in mine ear? 
 
 And those dear voices, I could die 
 But only once to hear. 
 
 O mother, mother !' " — Mrs. Case, Joan of Arc in Prison. 
 
 (Expulsive.) . Age. * 
 
 "If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel in command 
 Place me upon the ramparts with the flag-staff in my hand. 
 Nc* odds how hot the cannon smoke, or how the shells may fly, 
 I'll hold the stars and stripes aloft, and hold them till I die." 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 (Explosive.) Intense Grief and Supplication, 
 
 " l O spare my child ! my joy, my pride! 
 O give me back my boy!' she cried. 
 
 4 My child, my child!' with sobs and tears, 
 
 She shrieked upon his calloused ears. "—Mack ay. 
 
 ^Accent* 
 Accent is superior force applied to one or more syllables 
 of a word, to distinguish them from others in the same 
 word, as ?mt'sic al, con ver'ti Ml'i ty. It is primary and sec- 
 ondary. 
 
 1. Primary when the force is greater upon one syllable 
 than upon any other in the word, as cir' cum. stances. 
 
 2. Secondary accent s is force upon one or more syllables 
 of long words, less strongly marked than the primary, as 
 cir'cum stan'ces. The first syllable receives the primary 
 and the third the secondary accent. 
 
 The position of accent often decides the meaning of a 
 word, as in per'fume, per fume'. This belongs to a class of 
 words that are used as nouns and as verbs. The nouns 
 take the accent on the first, and the verbs on the last sylla- 
 ble. 
 
 JZmphasis. 
 
 Emphasis is force upon one or more words, to distinguish 
 them from other words in the same sentence. 
 
 Emphasis is of sense, absolute or antithetic ; and of 
 emotion, single or cumulative. 
 
 * See Stress, page 158» 
 
FORCE. 163 
 
 Emphasis* of sense brings out the meaning, and emphasis 
 of emotion the feeling of the author. 
 
 1. It is absolute when used to express sense; as, Go now! 
 " In all ages Love is the truth of life." — Robertson. 
 
 2. Antithetic when used on words in contrast and com- 
 parison ; U I said an elder soldier, not a better." You may 
 ride, but I shall walk. 
 
 3. Single emphasis of emotion is force upon single words 
 to express strong feeling ; as, 
 
 " Rise, fellow-men, our country yet remains !" 
 
 4. Cumulative emotional emphasis is superior force on a 
 succession of words ; as, 
 
 "Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George !" 
 "The Union: it must and shall be preserved." 
 
 Force upon an entire phrase or sentence should be con- 
 sidered separately with regard to its increase or diminution, 
 called climax and anticlimax.* The conditions are more or 
 less in accordance with the following statements. 
 
 1. Force may be unchanged throughout an entire period. 
 
 2. It may increase to the end of a clause or sentence. 
 
 3. It may decrease to the end of a clause or sentence. 
 
 4. It may increase to the middle, and decrease to the end. 
 
 5. It may decrease to the middle, and increase to the end. 
 
 6. It may vary irregularly throughout the sentence. 
 
 (Slow, with\ 1. " When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
 even force.)S The line too labors, and the words move slow." — Pope. 
 
 ( <: ) 2. * ' In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
 
 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire." — Poe. 
 (>) 3. " The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 
 And sighed for pity as it answered ' No.' " — Mackay. 
 (x) 4. "How the danger sinks | and swells, 
 
 (><) By the sinking or | the swelling 
 
 In the anger of the bells." — Poe. 
 (o). 5. " If I were an American, while a foreign troop were landed in 
 my country, I never would lay down my arms — NEVER, never, never." — 
 ^Lord Chatham. 
 
 (Irregular.) 6. "Keep yourself from opportunities, and God wiU keep 
 you from sin. Idleness is the sepulchre of a living man." 
 
 * Volume is force and quantity combined. Full volume is made of 
 much force, and long time or quantity. 
 
164 
 
 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 
 Sound (discrete 
 notes or syl- 
 lables) 
 
 Silence (rests 
 or pauses) 
 
 Sounds aud 
 rests compared 
 
 fRate, its 
 
 L Rhythm of 
 
 TABLE NO. 32. TIME. 
 Lo Dg jfMutable {ggj^ 
 
 Short J l.I mm utable. 
 
 (Sentential. 
 Vocal or oratorical ^Emotional. 
 (Rhythmical. 
 
 Grammatical. 
 
 f Names-Semi. Minim. Crotchet. Quaver. ^ ^^ 
 
 
 
 Notes 
 
 Rests 
 
 r r 
 
 Beats 
 each 
 
 t0 }4 2 1 
 
 Relative distinctions < '. 
 t 
 
 4 
 
 
 uick. 
 [oderate. 
 Slow. 
 
 L Changes < 
 
 /rt^«/i„«i (Increase (accelerando). 
 jUraauai ^ Decrea g e (diminuendo) 
 
 Sudden. 
 Musical sounds. 
 Poetry or words. 
 
 Motion 
 
 Dancing. 
 
 Fencing. 
 
 Marching. 
 
 Calisthenics. 
 
 Trotting. 
 
 Cantering, etc 
 
TIME. 165 
 
 I   
 
 TIME. 
 
 Time is a measured portion of duration. In elocution, 
 time is a measure of the speed of utterance. As a measure 
 of speed of utterance, the duration or quantity of single 
 sounds and rests, and the movement of successive sounds 
 and rests, must be considered. 
 
 QUANTITY. 
 
 Quantity is the duration or length of single sounds and 
 rests. Some sounds are naturally and necessarily longer 
 than others ; and while a few, both long and short, can be 
 prolonged, others can not : hence they may be classed as 
 immutable (those that can not be prolonged) and mutable 
 (those that can be prolonged.) The latter, being capable 
 of definite or of indefinite prolongation, have received the 
 names " definite" and " indefinite" mutable elements. 
 
 1. The immutable elements of our language are the ab- 
 rupts (see Table No. 7), p, t, k, b, d, g, which can not be 
 prolonged. 
 
 2. The mutable elements are most strongly represented in 
 the long vowel sounds, because they are capable of agreea- 
 ble prolongation — (see Table No. 6) — e, a, 'a, a, 6, o, T, u. , 
 
 3. The definite Mutable elements are the short vowels (see , 
 Table No. 6), i, e, a, o, u, u, and continuants (Table No. 7), \ 
 r, 1, m, n, ng, w, y, h, wh, because, though capable of slight 
 prolongation, it is seldom in good taste or agreeable to the 
 ear to add to their usual length. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 (Immutable.) "Would you make men trustworthy? Trust 
 them. Would you ma^e them true? Relieve them. We 
 win by tenderness; we conquer by forgiveness." — Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
166 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 {Mutable.) 
 
 " Hail, holy Light ! Offspring of heaven first-born, 
 Or of the eternal co-eternal beam, 
 May I express thee unblamed ? Since God is light, 
 And never but in unapproached light 
 Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 
 Bright effulgence of bright essence increate." — Miltow. 
 
 {Definite Mutable.) 
 
 " Up ! comrades, up ! in Rokeby's halls 
 Ne'er be it said our courage falls !" — Scott. 
 
 Bests or Pauses. ^U 
 
 A pause is a suspension. In spoken or written language, 
 pauses are signs of the divisions of discourse, and may be 
 classed as vocal or oratorical, and as grammatical. 
 
 A vocal or oratorical pause is a suspension of voice for 
 the purpose of obtaining breath, or to convey to the audi- 
 tors the emotion or meaning of the speaker. They may, but 
 often do not, coincide with grammatical pauses. Those vo- 
 cal pauses that make plain the meaning of the author or 
 speaker are called sentential ; those that express his feelings 
 are called emotional ; and those necessary to metrical com- 
 position or verse are called rhythmical pauses. 
 
 Rules for the Use of Sentential and Emotional Pauses. 
 A sentential or emotional pause should be made — 
 
 1. Before infinitive phrases. 
 
 2. " prepositional phrases. 
 
 3. " relative pronouns. 
 
 4. " adjectives following their nouns. 
 
 5. " the conclusion or closing half of a sentence. 
 
 6. " an ellipsis, or in place of the omitted word. 
 
 7. " a word or phrase of concentrated emphasis. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 1. {Infinitive Phrase.) It is noble | to say little and per- 
 form much. 
 
 2. {Prepositional Phrase.) Never measure other people's 
 corn | by your own bushel. 
 
 3. {Relative Pronoun?) He laughs best | who laughs last. 
 
TIME. 167 
 
 1 4. (Adjective.) Dim miniature of greatness | absolute ! 
 
 5. (Conclusion.) The man who spares vice | wrongs virtue. 
 
 6. (Ellipsis.) I fondly dream had I been thou — but what 
 could that have done ? 
 
 7. (Emphasis) The Union | must be preserved. 
 
 A sentential or emotional pause should be made — 
 1. After the nominative or subject phrase. 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 
 ths objective phrase in inverted sentences. 
 
 each member of a series. 
 
 and between words in apposition. 
 
 and before a word or phrase in parenthesis. 
 
 and before a quotation. 
 
 the completion of sense. 
 
 emphatic words or subjects. 
 
 each member of a sentence. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 1. (Nominative Phrase) "All high poetry | is infinite." — • 
 Shelley. 
 
 2. (Objective Phrase.) " A word once spoken | a coach .and 
 six horses can not bring it back." — Confucius. 
 
 3. (Members of a Series.) " Here is your unadulterated ale 
 of Father Adam ; better than Cognac, \ Hollands, \ Jamai- 
 ca, | strong beer, | or wine of any price ; here it is by the 
 hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay." — Haw- 
 thorne. 
 
 4. (Apposition.) John Chrysostom Wolfgang Gottlieb Mo- 
 zart', | the great German composer', was born in Salzburg, 
 January 27,1756. 
 
 5. (Parenthesis.) God is thanked | (perhaps unconscious- 
 ly) | for the brightness of earth on summer evenings, when 
 a brother and sister, who have long been parted, pour out 
 their heart -stores to each other, and feel their course of 
 thoughts brightening as it runs. 
 
 6. (Quotation) Longfellow says: | "Silently, one by one, 
 in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossom the lovely stars, 
 the forget-me-nots of the angels /" | and who can forget it? 
 
168 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 • I 
 
 7. {Complete Sense.) 
 
 " Count that day lost whose low-descending sun 
 Views from thy hand no worthy action done." | 
 
 8. {Emphasis,) 
 
 "Strike \ till the last armed foe expires! 
 Strike | for your altars and your fires ! 
 Strike | for the green graves of your sires ! 
 God and your native land !" — Halleck. ' 
 
 RHYTHMICAL PAUSES. -— -"AV 
 
 Rhythm is regularly recurring accent in motion or sound, \ 
 as in music, poetry, dancing, fencing, calisthenics, marching, 
 and the like.* 
 
 Rhythmical pauses are those cessations of sound necessary 
 to metrical composition. 
 
 They are termed final^ ccesural, and demi-ccesural Final 
 pauses occur at the close of lines of poetry, the csesural in 
 the middle of the lines, and the demi-caesural subdivide the 
 csesural divisions. 
 
 The final Rhythmical Pause : 
 " How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,] 
 When fond recollection presents them to view ! | 
 The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, | 
 And every loved spot which my infancy knew!"| 
 
 "Wordsworth. 
 The C aesural Pause : 
 " When the humid shadows gather | over all the starry spheres, 
 And the melancholy darkness | gently weeps in rainy tears, ' 
 'Tis a joy to press the pillow | of a cottage-chamber bed, 
 And listen to the patter | of the soft rain overhead." 
 
 Coates Kinney. 
 The Demi-ccesural Pause : 
 " There's a land | far away, 'mid the stars, I we are told, 
 Where they know not the sorrows of time — 
 Where the pure | waters wander through val|leys of gold, 
 
 And life is a treasure sublime." — J. G. Clark. 
 The Final, C&sural, and Demi-ccesural Pause : 
 " Knowledge comes, | but wisdom lingers, | and he bears | a laden breast, | 
 Full of sad experience moving I toward the stillness I of his rest." | 
 
 ' Tennyson. 
 
 * Notice the distinction between rhythm and metre. Metre is applied to 
 words only, while rhythm is applied to motion and to sound, which includes 
 words. 
 
TIME. 169 
 
 Rule for the final Rhythmical Pause. 
 If the final pause be necessary to the sense, it may be a 
 breathing pause ; if not, it should be a suspension of voice 
 without taking breath.* 
 
 Final Breathing Pause : 
 
 " Launch thy bark, mariner ! 
 Christian, God speed thee ; | 
 Let loose the rudder-bands, 
 
 Good angels lead thee ! | 
 Set thy sails warily ; 
 
 Tempests may come. 
 Steer thy course steadily ; 
 
 Christian, steer home/')— Mrs Southet, 
 
 Final Pause of Suspension : 
 
 *' Yet not to thine eternal resting-place | 
 Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish | 
 Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down | 
 With patriarchs of the infant world, with kings, 
 The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good — 
 Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, | 
 All in one mighty sepulchre." — W. C.Bryant. 
 
 GRAMMATICAL PAUSES, OR PUNCTUATION MARKS. 
 
 Grammatical pauses, or marks of punctuation, are visible! 
 signs made in written or printed composition to indicaiaj 
 more plainly the meaning of the author's words. 
 
 The principal signs are the 
 
 (,) Comma. 
 
 (;) Semicolon. 
 
 (:) Colon. 
 
 ( . ) Period, denoting a full stop, and abbreviations ; as, 
 H. for Henry, Mr. for Mister. 
 
 (?) Interrogation Point, showing that a question is 
 asked. 
 
 * In reading poetry there are two common errors. First, that of running 
 one line into another without pause ; the second, that of taking breath at 
 the end of each line. The true artist heeds neither the presence nor ab- 
 sence of grammatical pauses or punctuation, particularly in reading blank 
 verse. The voice should poise, as it were, upon the last word of the line, 
 but, unless the sense requires it, not long enough to take breath. 
 
 H 
 
170 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 (!) Exclamation Point, which follows expressions of 
 strong emotion. 
 
 The remaining signs in common use include the 
 
 ( - ) Hyphen, used to connect compound words and to 
 separate the syllables of a word ; as, wild - wood, con- 
 stancy. 
 
 ( — ) Dash, denoting a sudden pause, or change of sub- 
 ject, and sometimes for a parenthesis. 
 
 ( ) ( * * * ) Ellipsis, showing the omission of letters 
 
 in a word, or words in a sentence ; as, M y for Mary, 
 
 [ go to * * * to-morrow. 
 
 [ ( ) ] Parenthesis, inclosing an exj)lanatof y phrase 01 
 sentence. 
 
 ( [ ] ) Brackets, or crotchets. 
 
 ("") Quotation Marks, showing that the exact words 
 of another are used. 
 
 (') Apostrophe, denoting the possessive case, or that 
 one or more letters in a word have been omitted ; as, 'pon, 
 sigh'd, man's life. 
 
 (A) Caret, showing that by mistake one or more letters 
 
 n is 
 
 have been omitted ; as, boded, God love. 
 
 A A 
 
 ( } ) Brace, used to connect several words with a com- 
 mon term. 
 
 ( " ) Diaeresis, placed over the latter of two vowels to" 
 indicate a division of syllables between them ; as, aerial 
 (a-e-rial). 
 
 ( mSif ) Index, referring to an important statement. 
 
 ( % ) Paragraph, indicating the commencement of a new 
 subject. 
 
 (§) Section, used to divide a chapter or a book into 
 parts. 
 
 ( * ) Asterisk, 
 
 (f) Obelisk, or Dagger, 
 ( j ) Double Dagger, 
 ( § ) Section, 
 ( || ) Parallels, 
 (•jf) Paragraph, 
 Letters and figures, 
 
 refer to notes in the margin, 
 or at the bottom of the 
 page. 
 
TIME. 171 
 
 MOVEMENT. 
 
 Movement, in this connection, means the motion or pro- 
 gression in time, and includes rate and rhythm. The rate 
 or speed of movement is classed as quick, moderate, and 
 slow. 
 
 Quick or rapid movement is used to express haste, alarm, 
 confusion, terror, joy, mirth, humor, and animation ; as, 
 "Away! away! our fires stream bright 
 Along the frozen river, 
 And their arrowy sparkles of brilliant light 
 On the forest branches quiver." — Bryant. 
 
 Moderate movement is the speed used in simple narra- 
 tion, description, or didactic thought ; as, 
 " Oh, Maggie Bell, sweet Maggie Bell, 
 Twere better for me had thy funeral knell 
 Been tolled ere we parted, upon the old bell ; 
 'Twere better for me, and better for thee, 
 Had I been content with a simple lot, 
 With honest toil and a humble cot ; 
 Had I but made thee my honor and fame, 
 My world and my fortune, ambition and aim, 
 Thy love would have been all these to me." 
 
 Slow movement expresses emotions of sublimity, grief, 
 pathos, melancholy, reverence, deep repose, grandeur, maj- 
 esty, vastness, power, splendor, adoration, and horror ; as, 
 " When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
 
 The line too labors, and the words move slow." — Pope. 
 • He is gone on the mountain, he is lost to the forest, 
 Like some summer-dried fountain when our need was the sorest ; 
 The fount reappearing from the rain-drops shall borrow, 
 But to us comes no cheering, to Duncan no morrow. 
 The hand of the reaper takes the ears that are hoary, 
 But the voice of the weeper wails manhood in glory ; 
 The autumn winds rushing waft the leaves that are serest, 
 But our flower was in flushing when blighting was nearest. 
 Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone and forever." 
 
 Scott. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 
 
 The simplest matter is often hardest to read. Let the 
 best reader try his skill upon lessons prepared for chil- 
 dren, or any simple narration, and he will discover the 
 difficulties which the young reader encounters. First, the 
 words must mean something ; and if a long word occurs 
 now and then, do not wait for the child to study it out 
 until he has forgotten the story, but help him by speaking 
 the word, or even the entire phrase, if necessary. He will 
 then keep the meaning in mind, and become interested in 
 learning. It is no wonder a child reads stupidly such un- 
 satisfactory and unmeaning phrases as " I go up," " You 
 go down," when what he goes \xpfor, or how, or when, or 
 where, is wholly unknown. 
 
 In order to obtain a variety of new selections suited to 
 a natural style of reading, special permission has been ob- 
 tained to copy from three monthly magazines, viz., " The 
 Nursery" and " Our Young Folks," published in Boston, 
 and " The Little Corporal," published in Chicago. Many 
 of the selections found in this volume can not be copied 
 without permission from the owners of the copyrights. 
 
 The selections for " little folks" are simple enough for 
 any child that can recognize common monosyllables at 
 sight. Hard words, particularly proper names, will soon, 
 be learned as sight-words. 
 
 Those who expect to instruct children will do well to 
 practice these selections. 
 
174 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 JOHNNY'S FIRST SNOW-STORM.— From the Nursery. 
 
 Johnny Reed was a lit/tie boy who nev'er saw a snow'- 
 storm till he was six years old. Before this, he had lived in 
 a warm coun'try, where the sun shines down on beau'tiful 
 or'ange-groves, and fields al'ways sweet w T ith flow'ers. In 
 the win'ter, there, rain falls in'stead of snow. 
 
 But now he had come to vis'it his grand-moth'er, who 
 lived where the snow falls in win'ter. And Johnny was 
 standing at the win'dow when the snow came down. 
 
 " Oh mamma !" he cried, joy 'fully, " do come quick, and 
 see all these lit'tle white birds fly'ing down from heaven !" 
 
 " They are not birds, Johnny," said mamma, smiling. 
 
 " Then maybe the lit'tle an'gels are dan'cing, and los'ing 
 their feath'ers ! Oh ! do tell me what it is : is it sug'ar ? 
 Let me taste it," said Johnny. 
 
 But, when he tasted it, he gave a lit'tle jump, it was so 
 cold. 
 
 " It is snow, Johnny," said his moth'er. 
 
 " And what is snow, moth'er ?" 
 
 " The snow-flakes, Johnny, are little drops of wa'ter that 
 fall from the clouds. But the air through which they pass 
 is so cold, it freez'es them, and they come down turned to 
 snow. In the sum'mer, here, it is too warm for snow, but 
 the win'ter is very cold." 
 
 As she said this, she brought out an old black hat from 
 the clos'et. 
 
 " See, Johnny, I have caught a snow-flake on this hat. 
 Look quick through this glass, and you will see how beau'- 
 tiful it is." 
 
 Johnny looked through the glass. There lay the snow- 
 flake like a love'ly lit'tle star. 
 
 " T win'kle, twin'kle, little star," he cried, in delight. " Oh ! 
 please show me more." 
 
 So his mamma caught sev'eral more. They were all beau'- 
 tiful, yet no one was shaped like anoth'er. 
 
 The next day Johnny had a fine play in the snow, and, 
 when he came in, he said, " I love snow ; and I think snow- 
 balls are a great deal pret'tier than or'anges." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 1 75 
 
 THE SNOW MAN.— From the Little Corporal 
 In the blinding, whirling snow, 
 Jolly snow-birds now are we ! 
 Roll his body while we go ; 
 Plant him up against a tree ! 
 
 Fix him up a pair of hands ; 
 
 Then a pair of funny legs ; 
 Count how many feet he stands— 
 
 Ain't he shaky on his pegs ! 
 
 Nimble fingers, how they fly ! 
 
 Laughing cheeks are cherry red ! 
 Punch him here and there an eye — 
 
 What a precious pumpkin head ! 
 
 Ringing shouts are in the air — 
 
 Now he's done, except the nose ! 
 Pop him here and pop him there — 
 
 One, two, three, and down he goes ! 
 
 JINGLE, JINGLE I— From the Nursery. 
 Jingle, jingle ! up and down, 
 Sleighs are flying through the town 
 Jingle, jingle ! don't you hear 
 Merry sleigh-bells far and near ? 
 
 Get a sleigh that's large and wide ; 
 Let the children have a ride — 
 Henry, Ellen, Tom, and Ann, 
 George and Jane, and little Fan. 
 
 Yes, there's room enough for all: 
 Bring another blanket-shawl ; 
 Tuck them in. Away we go, 
 Jingle, jingle ! through the snow. 
 
 Jingle, jingle ! now we meet 
 Faces gay and horses fleet ; 
 And we laugh, and shout, and sinir, 
 While the merry sleigh-bells ring. 
 
176 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 LEARNING TO FLY.— From the Nursery. 
 
 When the little chicks were three weeks old, their mother 
 thought they were strong enough to learn to fly. So she 
 flew up on a bush. Then she looked, and called for the lit- 
 tle ones to come. One bold little chick flew up a short way, 
 and then fell to the ground. 
 
 The sun was going down, and it was time for all little 
 chicks to go to bed. Their mother flew up on the roost and 
 waited for them. 
 
 Then the little chicks all began to cry, and kept looking 
 up to their mother, as if to say, " We can not fly up so high. 
 Oh dear ! what shall we do ? Do help us up." 
 
 But their mother kept cheering them by little soft sounds, 
 which meant " Come up, my darlings ! Come up, my dear 
 little chicks ! It is not so hard as you think it is. Just try." 
 
 By-and-by they had all flown up to the roost — all but one 
 poor little chick. This one was smaller than the rest, and 
 its wings were not so much grown. So it just ran off alone 
 in the corner, and seemed very sad. Then Lucy took it in 
 her hands, and put it up on the roost. 
 
 One little chick flew up on its mother's back. Then they 
 all shut up their eyes and went to sleep. 
 
 MIND YOUR STEPS.— From the Nursery. 
 
 George caught sight of a big brown but'terfly. "I will 
 have that fellow !" said George. So off he dashed after the 
 but'terfly, hat in hand. Down in the hollow, up on the hill, 
 over the lawn — away he went at full speed. "Now I've 
 got him !" said George, making a swoop with his hat. 
 
 Well, George did not get the but'terfly, but he got a fall. 
 I wonder if the but'terfly laughed to see him sprawling on 
 the ground ? 
 
 If but'terflies can laugh, I think this one did, for he look 
 ed on very sau'cily while George was picking him'self up> 
 and then whisked away over the fields, as much as to say, 
 " Would you like to try anoth'er race with me, my young 
 friend ? Good-by ! I must leave you." 
 
SELECTIONS FOB THE LITTLE FOLKS. 177 
 
 HANG UP THE BABY'S STOCKING. 
 Hang up the baby's stocking ; 
 
 Be sure that you don't forget 
 The dear little dimpled darling — 
 
 He never saw Christmas yet. 
 But I have told him all about it, 
 ~~ And he opened his big black eyes, 
 And I am sure he understood me, 
 
 He looked so funny and wise. 
 
 Dear, dear, what a tiny stocking ! 
 
 It doesn't take much to hold 
 Such little pink toes as baby's 
 
 Away from the frost and cold. 
 But then, for the baby's Christmas, 
 
 It never will do at all : 
 Why, Santa Claus won't be looking 
 
 For any thing half so small. 
 
 I know what we'll do for the baby — 
 
 I have thought of the very best plan — 
 We will borrow a stocking of grandma, 
 
 The longest that ever we can, 
 And you will hang it by mine, dear mother, 
 
 Right here in the corner — so — 
 And write a letter to Santa, 
 
 And fasten it on the toe. 
 
 Write, u This is the baby's stocking, 
 
 That hangs in the corner here ; 
 You never have seen him, Santa, 
 
 For he only came this year ; 
 But he is just the blessedest baby ! 
 
 And now, before you go, 
 Just cram his stocking with goodies 
 
 From the top clear down to the toe." 
 H2 
 
178 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 FRETTING JENNIE. 
 
 Little Jennie, fretful, 
 
 Sitting in a tree, 
 Worried at the buzzing 
 
 Of a humble-bee. 
 
 Said she had a headache, 
 Wished it would be still ; 
 
 Knew it buzzed on purpose 
 To defy her will. 
 
 Buzzing bee was happy, 
 
 Busy at its work, 
 Gathering stores of honey — 
 
 Never thought to shirk ; 
 
 Never thought of Jennie, 
 
 Fretting in the tree, 
 It was such a happy, 
 
 Busy little bee. 
 
 Jennie grew more fretful 
 When it answered not, 
 
 Said 'twas really hateful — 
 That was what she thought, 
 
 Still the bee kept buzzing, 
 Glad its sphere to fill ; 
 
 Discontented Jennie 
 May be fretting still. 
 
 Are there not some Jennies, 
 Boys and girls, you know, 
 
 Who to fret at others 
 Are not slack or slow ? 
 
 Forth to duty, children ! 
 
 Like the busy bee, 
 Minding not cross Jennie, 
 
 On her fretting tree. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 179 
 
 OLD HERO.— From the Nursery. 
 
 Ann and her little sister Mary went out to the pasture 
 one bright summer day to see the old horse. The horse 
 stood in the shade of the great elm-tree, and, as the two 
 girls came up, he put his head over the fence, as though he 
 was glad to see them. 
 
 " Let me feed him," said Mary ; and she plucked a bunch 
 of clover to give to the horse. 
 
 But when she held it to his mouth, he reached out for it 
 with his upper lip, and gave a slight snort that startled the 
 little girl. She drew back timidly. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," said Ann. " He will not hurt you. 
 Good old horse ! See me pat him on the head." Then little 
 Mary took courage, and let the old horse eat the clover from 
 her hand. 
 
 Now I must tell you something about this old horse. 
 Mary's father, who was a doctor, bought him when he was 
 a colt, and named him Hero. For many and many a year 
 he carried the doctor on his rounds, and served the whole 
 family faithfully. 
 
 He was older than the oldest of the doctor's children, and 
 was such a gentle, steady, useful creature that they all be- 
 came much attached to him. 
 
 By-and-by Hero grew so old that he was not able to do 
 his usual work. One day a man said to the doctor, " That 
 horse is of no use to you now. Sell him to me. I will give 
 you twelve dollars for him. I want him to work in my 
 tread-mill." 
 
 Wasn't there an outcry in the house when the folks heard 
 this ! The idea of selling old Hero to be worked in a tread- 
 mill ! That was too bad. But the doctor's answer to the 
 man settled the matter very soon. 
 
 " My friend," said he, " there is not money enough in your 
 town to buy this horse for a tread-mill." 
 
 Soon after this old Hero got so lame that he was not fit 
 to work at all. Then somebody said, "That horse is good 
 for nothing. I would kill him if I were you." 
 
 There was another outburst in the family when the doc- 
 
180 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 tor told this. " Papa," said Mary, with her lip quivering, 
 " if you let old Hero be killed, you will be a cruel man." 
 
 "That's just what I think," said the doctor. "No, old 
 fellow," said he, patting Hero, " you shall not be killed. 
 You shall have no more work to do. You shall take your 
 ease. You shall have the best stall in the stable, and we 
 will take care of you as long as you live." 
 
 So, after that, Hero was one of the family pets. 
 
 In the summer his shoes were taken off, and he was put in 
 the richest pasture to roam at will. 
 
 He lived upon the fat of the land, and grew so strong and 
 hearty, that, when I last saw him, the old, broken-down horse 
 was frisking about like a young colt. 
 
 I wish that all horses could have such a happy old age. 
 
 THE FIRST SNOW.— From the Nursery. 
 Drop, pretty snow-flakes, one by one ; 
 Don't be afraid of the noon-day sun. 
 Build up your palaces crystal white, 
 Aladdin-like, in a single night. 
 
 Hide the old fences under your veil ; 
 Cover the dimples of hill and of dale ; 
 Don't let the trees go naked, but place 
 On their shivering limbs a web of your lace. 
 
 Visit the martin-house if you will, 
 Or lodge all night on my window-sill ; 
 Call on the well-sweep, and wreathe it about 
 With fringes, as well as the water-spout. 
 
 Give to the door-bell a fleecy cap ; 
 Lend the salt h^y-cocks an ermine wrap ; 
 And drift just enough to make the world look 
 As if it had stepped from a fairy brook. 
 
 THE MOTHER-BIRD.— From the Nursery. 
 "Peep, peep, peep !" says she; 
 " One, two, three, one, two, three 
 Little birds who wait for me ! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 181 
 
 M One is yellow, two are brown, 
 
 And their throats are soft with down ; 
 
 On each head a scarlet crown. 
 
 u Mother-bird is flying fast ; 
 Soon your hunger will be past : 
 Here is mother, come at last. 
 
 " Peep, peep, peep !" says she : 
 " And can it be ? — ah ! can it be ? 
 No little ones are here for me." 
 
 In vain her cry, in vain her quest. 
 
 A thoughtless boy has robbed her nest ; 
 
 She looks around with aching breast. 
 
 In reviewing a piece of this kind, there is an opportunity for the teacher 
 to impress the mind of the pupil with a desire to protect and care for ani- 
 mals, and to abhor cruelty. 
 
 WHAT THE FLOWERS WISHED.— From the Nursery. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 On the edge of a stream grew a Lily, a Hose, a Daisy, and 
 a Violet. 
 
 " I would like," said the Lily, " to bloom in the pal'-ace of 
 the king ; to be seen by the lords and ladies in their fine 
 dress'-es of vel'-vet, silk, and gold." 
 
 " As for me," said the Rose, " I would like to be taken by 
 some learn'ed flor'-ist, who would look at me through his 
 eye-glass, and then have me dried, and placed where I would 
 be seen and known to fame." 
 
 " I do not care for kings and learn'ed men," said the Daisy. 
 " What I would like would be to be put among the flowers 
 of a wreath for the gold en locks of some fair young girl." 
 
 And what said the Violet when it was her turn to speak? 
 She said, " Let the good God do with me as he will !" 
 
 The son of the king gathered the Lily. 
 
 An old flor'-ist plucked the Rose. 
 
 A young girl with gold'en locks took the Daisy. 
 
 Then along the bor'der of the stream came a poor child, 
 fchin, sickly, and burnt by the sun. Her feet were bare, and 
 
182 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 her dress was patched and rag'-ged. She gath'-ered the 
 Vio'let. 
 
 On the even'-ing of that day the Lily was put on a table 
 in the palace of the king. Great lords and ladies praised 
 the Lily's beauty, and the queen stooped to breathe its 
 per'-fume. 
 
 The Rose was put by the flor'-ist between two leaves of 
 gray paper; and then some heav'-y books, which crushed it 
 by their weight, were put on it ; and thus it had the fame it 
 had longed for. 
 
 The Daisy shone like a star on the brow of the young girl 
 with golden locks as she led the dance in a light'-ed hall. 
 
 Mean'-while, on some straw in a barn, where she had been 
 told to lie down, the poor child who had plucked the Violet 
 pressed it to her lips, and said in her heart, " How good is 
 God to scatter his flowers on the earth, where we all can 
 pluck them." 
 
 And if they had told the Violet that she might change 
 her lot for that of the Daisy, the Rose, or the Lily, the Vio- 
 let would have said, " I prefer to stay where I am." 
 
 WHO KILLED TOM ROPER ?—From the Temperance Speaker. 
 Who killed Tom Roper? 
 "Not I," said New Cider: 
 " I couldn't kill a spider — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 "Not I," said Strong Ale j 
 " I make men tough and hale — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 " Not I," said Lager Bier : 
 " I don't intoxicate. D'ye hear ? 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 u Not I," said Bourbon Whisky : 
 " I make sick folks spry and frisky ; 
 The doctors say so — don't they know 
 What quickens blood that runs so slow ? 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
SELECTIONS FOK THE LITTLE FOLKS. 183 
 
 " Not I," said sparkling old Champagne : 
 " No poor man e'er by me was slain ; 
 I cheer the rich in lordly halls, 
 And scorn the place where the drunkard falls — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 " Not we," said various other wines : 
 "What! juice of grapes, product of vines 
 Kill a man ! The Bible tells 
 That wine all other drink excels — 
 We didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 " Not I," said Holland Gin : 
 "To charge such a crime to me is sin — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 u Not I," spoke up the Brandy strong : 
 " He grew too poor to buy me long — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 " Not I," said Medford Rum : 
 " He was almost gone before I come — 
 I didn't kill Tom Roper." 
 
 " Ha ! ha !" laughed old Prince Alcohol : 
 " Each struck the blow that made him fall ; 
 And all that helped to make him toper, 
 My agents were to kill Tom Roper." 
 
 PLAYING SCHOOL. —From the Nursery. 
 
 " Oh ! I am tired of run'ning about !" said Ruth May to 
 her little cousins, who had come to spend a day with her. 
 " Suppose we find a shady place and play school ?" 
 ' " Oh yes !" they all cried. " That will be nice fun." 
 
 " And, Ruthie," said George, " you must be the teacher, 
 because you are the oldest." 
 
 " Well, so I will," said Ruth. " But, when I am teacher, 
 you must not call me Ruthie ; you must all say Miss May 
 very politely." 
 
 " Oh yes ! we had better begin right off," said Dora, a 
 bright little girl of five years. "Miss May, will you please 
 show us where the school-room is ?" 
 
184 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Ruth. " On the bench under the old 
 apple-tree at the end of the orchard : that will be just the 
 place. I will run in for some books, and then w T e will all go 
 there." 
 
 So here they are under the tree ; Miss May with a long 
 rod, " to keep roguish children in order 3 " as she says. 
 
 Bessie, a little girl of three years, when she sees this, says, 
 "You wouldn't really hurt us with it, would you, Cousin 
 Ruth?" 
 
 " Oh no, darling !" replied Ruth. " I shall only tingle 
 your fingers a little bit, just for fun." 
 
 I think she will have to try it on George's fingers first, for 
 he is slyly pulling Dora's hair as she slips down from the 
 £eat, and holds up her hand to know if she may speak. 
 
 " What is it, Dora ?" says the teacher. 
 
 " Please, Miss May, I know my lesson," answers Dora. 
 
 " Very well, dear. Now I will hear you spell. George 
 may begin. Spell bird, George." 
 
 " B-w-r-d," says George. " Halloa ! there's one on the 
 end of that branch. Wouldn't I like to catch him !" 
 
 " For shame, sir !" says Ruth. " Go to the foot of the 
 class. • Now, Dora, let me hear you spell it." 
 
 " B-i-r-d, bird," Dora says, very promptly. 
 
 Then Ruth gives little Bessie the word " cat" to spell 
 She thinks a minute, and then says, 
 
 " C-a-t, pussy," which makes them all laugh. 
 
 " You mean cat, darling," Ruth says ; " but that is very 
 well for such a little girl." 
 
 Then they read and count, and so go on playing, till by- 
 and-by a voice from the other side of the fence says sud- 
 denly, 
 
 " Please, ma'am, may I come to school too ? I'll be good." 
 
 All turn to see whose voice it is, when who should ap- 
 , pear but Ruth's father, who is coming to see where they all 
 are. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle John!" the three little ones call out, "how 
 you did startle us !" 
 
 " And how funny it w T ould be for a big man to come to 
 6chool !" says little Bessie, with a merry laugb. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 185 
 
 " Do you think I am too big, Bess ?" Uncle John says. 
 " Well, then, come here, and you shall ride to the house 
 on my shoulder, for I hear the dinner-bell ringing." 
 
 " Who would have thought it was so late !" says Ruth. 
 " School is dismissed. Pick up your doll, Dora ; and, George, 
 bring the books. Haven't we had a nice time ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" says Dora; "and we've really learned 
 something too." 
 
 LITTLE BOY'S POCKET; OR THE YOUNG PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 From Hearth and Home. 
 Do you know what's in my pottet ? 
 Such a lot of treasure's in it ! 
 Listen, now, while I bedin it. 
 Such a lot of sings it hold, 
 And all there is, you sail be told 
   Every sin dat's in my pottet, 
 
 And when, and where, and how I dot it. 
 
 First of all, here's in my pottet 
 
 A beauty shell : I picked it up ; 
 
 And here's the handle of a tup 
 
 That somebody has broke at tea ; 
 
 The shell's a hole in it, you see ; 
 Nobody knows that I have dot it — 
 I keep it safe here in my pottet. 
 
 And here's my ball, too, in my pottet, 
 And here's my pennies, one, two, fre, 
 That Aunty Mary gave to me ; 
 To-morrow-day I'll buy a spade, 
 When I'm out walking with the maid; 
 
 I can't put dat here in my pottet, 
 
 But I can use it when I've dot it. 
 
 Here's some more sins in my pottet ! 
 
 Here's my lead, and here's my string, 
 
 And once I had an iron ring, 
 
 But through a hole it lost one day; 
 
 And this is what I always say — 
 A hole's the worst sin in a pottet — 
 Have it mended when you've dot it. 
 
186 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 AUNT MARY'S BULLFINCH.— .From the Nursery. 
 
 Edith has been to see her aunt Mary's new bird. Aunt 
 Mary brought it from Ger'many. It is a buli'finch. 
 
 Aunt Mary's bird is what they call a " piping buli'finch ;" 
 by which we mean that it has been taught to pipe or sing 
 tunes. 
 
 Aunt Mary took Edith on her knee, and told her about 
 these piping bull'finches. 
 
 " There are men," said Aunt Mary, " who spend a great 
 deal of time in teaching these birds to sing tunes, and then 
 sell them for a high price. 
 
 " It must be fun'ny, must it not ? to see a school of bull'- 
 finches learning to sing! Shall I tell you how they are 
 taught ? 
 
 " First of all, they are tak'en when they are quite young, 
 not more than ten days old ; and they have great care giv'en 
 to them till they are about two months old, when they grow 
 to be quite tame. 
 
 " Soon they begin to whis'tle ; and then their mas'ter 
 knows it is time to begin to teach them. What does he do 
 then, do you think ? Does he fetch out primers and spell'- 
 ing-books, and pen'cils and slates ? Oh no ! nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 " He di-vides his lit'tle school into class'es of about six 
 birds in each, and shuts them up in a dark room, where they 
 are left for some time with-out any food. The poor lit'tle 
 birds won'der what it all means, and grow quite sad. 
 
 " Then their mas'ter comes in, and begins playing over 
 and over one tune on what is called a bird-or'gan ; that is, a 
 kind of ti'ny or'gan, the notes of which are very like those 
 of a buli'finch. 
 
 " Soon the lit'tle birds begin to lis'ten ; and after the same 
 air has been played over I am sure I can not tell you how 
 many times, some of the birds try to sing the air. 
 
 " As soon as they do this, some food is given to them as 
 a reward, and the light is let in ; and so, at last, they begin 
 to find out what their mas'ter wants them to do. 
 
 " The same thing goes on day after day for a long time, 
 
SELECTIONS FOE THE LITTLE FOLKS. 187 
 
 till they sing quite boldly, and then the classes are bro'ken 
 up, and each bird is put under the care of a boy, who plays 
 that one tune over all day long, so that the buH'finch may 
 iearn it well. 
 
 " These little birds remem'ber their teach'ers a long time, 
 and often seem very fond of them. 
 
 "In his wild state the buH'finch is quite a good sing'er, 
 and it is fun'ny to watch him while he is singing. He puffs 
 out his feath'ers, and moves about his head, as if trying to 
 do his best ; but, when he sees some one looking at him, he 
 will fly off." 
 
 This was the end of Aunt Mary's sto'ry ; and then her lit- 
 tle buH'finch sang the tune of ? Sweet Home." Edith was 
 much pleased, and went home and told her moth'er all about 
 the piping buH'finch. 
 
 LITTLE MARY'S BOUQUET— From the Little Corporal 
 
 " To-morrow is little Mary's birth-day," said the garden- 
 er, as he examined his flowers. " She must have a nice 
 60 liquet." 
 
 "To-morrow is little Mary's birth-day," whispered the 
 flowers -to one another. " To-morrow ! to-morrow !" 
 
 " My buds are all ready," said the rose. 
 
 " So are mine," said the sunflower. 
 
 The pansies smiled at the thought, but the sunflower held 
 his head so high that he did not see them. 
 
 " I'd rather stand in this garden than be put in the queen's 
 bouquet," said a tall hollyhock. 
 
 " I've no flowers to spare for any one," said the money- 
 wort, anxiously counting her buds. 
 
 " Don't be a miser," said the ragged robin. " They may 
 riave all of mine." 
 
 " I would like to go to little Mary," said the mignonette. 
 
 " My dear child, don't think of such a thing," said a gay 
 tulip, spreading her petals. " You have no beauty." 
 
 " I know it," said the mignonette, mournfully. 
 
 " Never mind," said the rose ; " you have perfume, and 
 some think that better than beauty." 
 
188 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 "Ah!" said the tulip. 
 
 " Why are you here, pray ?" said a pert little lady's-slip- 
 per to a bright dandelion, as she gave her a sly kick. 
 
 " If it comes to that, why are you here ?" said the dande- 
 lion. 
 
 "Because I was planted here," said the lady's - slipper. 
 "Yoic are wild, but I came in a paper bag, with my name on 
 it, and was planted by the gardener." 
 
 " Perhaps I am a little wild," said the dandelion ; " but I 
 was planted here ; and, besides, I can tell the time." 
 
 "I never heard of a dandelion's being planted," said the 
 lady's-slipper. 
 
 "I never heard of a dandelion telling time," said a four- 
 o'clock. 
 
 " At all events, I was blown here by some one who want- 
 ed to know what time it was." 
 
 " Did they find out ?" interrupted the four-o'clock. 
 
 " And I thought, as I was here, I might as well grow," con- 
 tinued the dandelion. "I am good to eat, and I can be 
 made into coffee." 
 
 " Don't say any thing about time, whatever you do," said 
 the four-o'clock; "I am the only one who knows about time." 
 
 " Thyme ! thyme !" said the summer savory. " There are 
 plenty of sweet herbs better than thyme." 
 
 " What are you quarreling about, you foolish little 
 things ?" said the sunflower. " I can tell time ; I go by the 
 sun." 
 
 " What will you do to-morrow, when the clouds come 
 over and hide the sun ?" asked a poor-man's-weather-glass 
 at his feet. 
 
 "I can guess at it," said the sunflower; "but you must 
 be a very poor-man's-weather-glass to talk of clouds when 
 the sky is so bright." 
 
 " I feel it in my fibres," said the weather-glass. 
 
 "For pity's sake, can any one tell me if it is four yet?" said 
 the four-o'clock. " Here I have been gossiping, and forget- 
 ting all about it." 
 
 " I can see the clock," said a sweet pea, on tiptoe. " It is 
 half past four." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 189 
 
 "Dear me!" said the four - o'clock ; "I promised these 
 buds they should be out to-day, and now they will have to 
 wait till four to-morrow morning, and then there will be no 
 one to see them but the early birds. It is too bad." 
 
 " Only blame to yourself, madam," said a thistle. 
 
 The four-o'clock made no reply, for she knew she would 
 suffer if she meddled with him. The next morning,, early, 
 the gardener came to make a bouquet. He made it of love- 
 ly pink sweet peas, purple pansies, rose-buds wet with dew, 
 the modest mignonette, the spicy carnation, fragrant gera- 
 nium leaves, and delicate heliotrope. 
 
 " Every bouquet should have a bit of yellow," said the 
 gardener, as he added a dandelion. "There! that finishes it, 
 and it is fit for a queen ;" and he carried it away. 
 
 " Just to think ! He took that saucy dandelion, and left 
 me," said the lady's-slipper. 
 
 " What is a bouquet without me ?" said the tulip, tossing 
 her head. " No matter; I shall live the longer." 
 
 "So shall I," said ragged robin; but no one took any no- 
 tice of him, because he was a ragged robin. 
 
 CHOICE OF TRADES.— From the Festival 
 
 A RECITATION FOR LITTLE BOYS. 
 
 This recitation should be accompanied with appropriate 
 action. Thus the farmer should make the motion for sow- 
 ing, reaping, plowing, binding, and pitching away ; the car- 
 penter for planing, hammering, and sawing ; the mason for 
 bricklaying and smoothing ; the smith for blows on the an- 
 vil, and the shoemaker for sewing shoes, etc. 
 
 First Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a farmer if I can — and I can ! 
 I'll plow the ground, and the seed I'll sow ; 
 I'll reap the grain, and the grass I'll mow; 
 I'll bind the sheaves, and I'll rake the hay, 
 And pitch it up on the mow away, 
 
 When I'm a man. 
 Second Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a carpenter if I can — and I can ! 
 
190 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 I'll plane like this, and I'll hammer so, 
 And this is the way my saw shall go. 
 I'll make bird-houses, and sleds, and boats, 
 And a ship that shall race every craft that floats, 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Third Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 A blacksmith I'll be if I can — and I can ! 
 Clang, clang, clang shall my anvil ring, 
 And this is the way the blows I'll swing. 
 I'll shoe your horse, sir, neat and tight, 
 Then I'll trot round the square to see if it's right, 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Fourth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 A mason I'll be if I can — and I can ! 
 I'll lay a brick this way, and lay one that, 
 Then take my trowel and smooth them flat ; 
 Great chimneys I'll make ; I think I'll be able 
 To build one as high as the Tower of Babel 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Fifth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a shoe-maker if I can — and I can ! 
 I'll sit on a bench, with my last held so, 
 And in and out shall my needles go. 
 I'll sew so strong that my work shall wear 
 Till nothing' is left but my stitches there, 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Sixth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 A doctor I'll be if I can — and I can ! 
 My powders and pills shall be nice and sweet, 
 And you shall have just what you like to eat ; 
 I'll prescribe for you riding, and sailing, and suoh ; 
 And, 'bove all things, you must never study too much 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Seventh Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a minister if I can — and I can ! 
 And once in a while a sermon I'll make 
 That will keep little boys and girls awake ; 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 191 
 
 For ah ! dear me ! if the ministers knew 
 How glad we are when they get through ! — 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Eighth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 A teacher I'll be if I can — and I can ! 
 I'll sing to my scholars, fine stories I'll tell ; 
 I'll show them pictures, and, well — oh ! well, 
 They shall have some lessons — I s'pose they ought ; 
 But oh ! I shall make them so very short, 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Ninth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a school-committee if I can — and I can ! 
 'Bout once a week I'll come into school, 
 And say, " Miss Teacher, I've made a rule 
 That boys and girls need a good deal of play ; 
 You may give these children a holiday" — 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 Tenth Boy. When I'm a man, a man, 
 I'll be a president if I can — and I can ! 
 My uncles and aunts are a jolly set, 
 And I'll have them all in my cabinet , 
 I shall live in the White House ; and I hope you all. 
 When you hear I'm elected, will give me a call 
 When I'm a man. 
 
 (All in concert, or, if they can not be trained to speak it 
 in concert so as to make every word understood, let the best 
 speaker step forward, and repeat alone in a distinct voice), 
 
 When we are men, are men, 
 I hope we shall do great things ; and then, 
 Whatever we do, this thing we say, 
 We'll do our work in the very best way ; 
 And you shall see, if you know us then, 
 We'll be good, and honest, and useful men — 
 When we are men. 
 
192 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 MYSTERIES.— From the Little Corpora!. 
 
 Where are you going, dear little feet ? 
 
 Restless, pattering things ! 
 Bearing your burden, soft and sweet, 
 
 Swift as the swallow's wings. 
 
 What are you doing, dear little hands ? 
 
 Busy from morn till night ! 
 Counting the hours by golden sands. 
 
 Charming with new delight. 
 
 What are you saying, dear little tongue ? 
 
 Chattering all day long, 
 Words that the wild birds teach their young . 
 
 Sweeter than peach or song.- 
 
 What are you seeking, wandering eyes ? 
 
 Gazing away to the West ; 
 Watching the rosy, sunset skies, 
 
 Where the day sinks to rest. 
 
 Ah ! little tender baby soul, 
 Wonderful dreams are yours ! 
 
 Life must be sweet when life is new, 
 Long as the world endures. 
 
 WATER. 
 
 Water ! water ! cries the bird, 
 With his singing, gentle note : 
 
 And the liquid sound is heard 
 Pouring from his little throat ; 
 
 Water ! water ! clear and sweet ! 
 Te-weet ! te weet ! 
 
 Water ! water ! roars the ox, 
 While it rushes at his side, 
 
 Down among the mossy rocks 
 Rippling with its crystal tide ; 
 
 Water ! water ! pure and true ! 
 Moo ! moo ! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 193 
 
 Water ! water ! said the tree, 
 
 With its branches spreading high ; 
 
 Water ! water ! rustled he, 
 For his leaves were very dry ; 
 
 Water ! water for the tree, 
 Pure and free. 
 
 Water! water! said the flower, 
 
 Whispering with its perfumed breath ; 
 
 Let me have it in an hour, 
 
 Ere I, thirsting, droop in death ! 
 
 Water ! water ! soft and still, 
 Is my will 
 
 Water ! water ! said the grain, 
 
 With its yellow head on high ; 
 And the spreading, fertile plain, 
 
 Ripening, joined the swelling cry ; 
 Water for the grains of gold ! 
 Wealth untold ! 
 
 Water ! water ! sparkling, pure, 
 
 Giveth Nature every where — 
 If you drink it, I am sure 
 
 It will never prove a snare. 
 Water is the thing for me — 
 Yes, and thee. 
 
 Water ! water ! Young and old 
 
 Drink it, crystal-like and sweet; 
 Never heed the tempter bold — 
 
 Smash him underneath your feet ! 
 Water ! water ! Youth, for thee — 
 Thee and ma 
 
 TOMMYS WEEK.— From the Little Corporal 
 
 The first day, of course, was Sunday. Sunday always 
 comes first in my weeks, though I have heard people say it 
 came away down at the end, after Saturday. It came first 
 in Tommy's week, but he didn't know much about it until 
 he waked up one morning and found the sun shining very 
 
 I 
 
194 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 bright, and wondered why his mamma didn't get up and 
 dress him. Then he crept out of bed, and went to the win- 
 dow, and stood there in his little night-gown watching an 
 old robin that was feeding her babies with worms for break- 
 fast. The baby robins opened their mouths very wide, and 
 seemed to relish their breakfast, which reminded Tommy 
 that he wanted his own. But when he turned around from 
 the window, he saw his new red trumpet lying on the floor, 
 and he picked it up and blew it very loud indeed. It waked 
 up every body in the house. Bridget thought it was the 
 milkman, and clattered out the door with one foot halfway 
 into her shoe; and Tommy's mamma opened her eyes very 
 wide, and said, 
 
 " Why, Tommy Bancroft ! didn't you know it was Sun- 
 day morning ?" 
 
 And that was the first Tommy ever remembered about 
 Sunday. After breakfast Uncle Jim didn't go to the city, 
 but sat and read with his pretty new slippers on, and Tom- 
 my was dressed up in his white linen clothes and buttoned 
 gaiters, and had his yellow hair curled into queer little curls 
 that didn't stay in very well, and went w T ith his mamma to 
 a great house with a bell on the top of it. They called it a 
 church. Tommy's mamma told him he mustn't talk in 
 church. There were a great many other people there, and 
 nobody talked at all except one man in a kind of a box high 
 up at one end, and that man talked all the time. Tommy 
 thought perhaps he didn't know any better. There was a 
 little girl in the next seat with a blue and white feather in 
 her hat. She looked at Tommy a good deal, and Tommy 
 looked at the feather. He wondered if it was a rooster's 
 feather. He thought he should like to have a rooster with 
 such feathers. Then the little girl's hat began to move 
 about, then there were two hats and two blue and white 
 feathers — Tommy saw them; then three hats, then four, 
 then the whole air was full of them, and Tommy laid his 
 head down in his mother's lap, and didn't remember any 
 more. 
 
 They must have gone home after a while, for Grandma 
 Bancroft was there to dinner, and she had her black velvet 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 195 
 
 bag with beads around the bottom. Tommy liked to play 
 with the beads, and sometimes Grandma Bancroft used to 
 open the bag and give him some caraway seeds, or red and 
 white peppermint candies. This time she gave him two 
 raisins, and asked him if he could tell her about the sermon. 
 
 " They didn't have any of them fings to my church," said 
 Tommy, innocently. 
 
 He thought about it while he was eating his raisins, and 
 then he said, 
 
 " Was that what the men passed around in the boxes, 
 gamma? I didn't take any of that. Wish't I had." 
 
 Grandma tried to explain about the sermon, and told the 
 little boy how the minister was trying to tell the people how 
 to be good. But Tommy didn't understand. 
 
 " He didn't speak to me 'tall," he insisted ; " kept talkin' 
 to himself all the time. Course if he talked to me I should 
 understood him ; what you s'pose .?" 
 
 But by-and-by mamma took Tommy on her lap and told 
 him all about Samuel, the little boy that talked with God ; 
 and about David, the shepherd-boy that slew the great gi- 
 ant ; and about Jesus, the dear Savior, who lived and died 
 to save just such boys as he; and then Tommy felt very 
 good and very loving, and meant to mind his mamma as 
 long as he lived, and always let the baby have his red ball 
 and his trumpet, and say please to Bridget, and not cry 
 when his face was washed. He said his little prayer very 
 earnestly and heartily, though he was sound asleep two min- 
 utes afterward. And after that, Sunday always came regu- 
 lar in Tommy's week. 
 
 Monday. 
 Monday was Tommy's own day, and he liked it the very 
 best of all. First, because it was washing day, which was 
 the very reason mamma didnH like it at all. He knew it 
 w r as Monday the very minute he woke up, because there was 
 his red plaid dress and gingham apron for him to wear. He 
 always wore that dress washing days, and baking days, and 
 days when mamma was too busy to look after him ; and 
 Tommy's heart always gave a great jump of delight when 
 
196 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 he saw it, for he knew he could dig in the dirt with the 
 fire-shovel, and nobody would say, 
 
 " Why ', Tommy Bancroft^ look at your new clothes" 
 
 When his mamma dressed him, she said, 
 
 " I can't stop to curl your hair this morning, because it's 
 washing day" and then Tommy was gladder yet. When he 
 was a man he meant to have all his hair cut close to his 
 head, so nobody could curl it ; it always made him so cross 
 to have it pulled. 
 
 After breakfast mamma tied his old straw hat under his 
 chin, and told him to run and play like a good boy. Tom- 
 my went straight out to the sink-drain in the back yard. 
 There was quite a little river of soap-suds running through 
 it, and Tommy fished in it a while with the handle to his 
 mother's parasol that he found on the hall -table. She 
 shouldn't have left it there, you know. Then he thought 
 he would build a dam across the drain, and he threw down 
 the parasol, and went in to get the fire-shovel to dig with. 
 Bridget was cross, and said she wanted the shovel herself — 
 did he think she was going to put in coal with her fingers ? 
 Then he thought he would take a case-knife, and, while he 
 was looking for one, he spied his mother's silver pie-knife in 
 the spoon-basket ; it was broad and flat, pretty much like a 
 shovel, and Tommy thought he could make it do. 
 
 "Course she'd let me take it; won't hurt it 'tall," said 
 Tommy to his conscience ; but he was very careful to keep 
 it out of Bridget's sight as he trudged back to the drain. 
 He found a nice, soft place to dig dirt in the middle of one 
 of mamma's flower-beds; it was full of little sticks to show 
 where the seeds were planted a few days before, but they 
 had not come up, and Tommy thought it must be because 
 there was too much dirt. He pulled off his hat for a cart, 
 and it was splendid fun to load it up with the pie-knife, and 
 drag it to the drain by the ribbons. Pie-knives are not 
 made to dig in the dirt with, and pretty soon it began to 
 curl up at the point, and then the handle doubled down side- 
 ways, and Tommy threw it down with the parasol, saying to 
 himself, "I guess Uncle Jim can fix it." 
 
 While he was squatted up in the very middle of th« 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 197 
 
 drain, somebody emptied another tub full of suds, and it 
 came swashing along, and washed Tommy and the dam away 
 together. He gave one little squeal of astonishment ; but, 
 though he was very wet and muddy, he only put on his dirty 
 Little hat and started after the gray kitten that was watch- 
 ing a bird under the raspberry bushes. He chased her three 
 times around the garden and twice under the fence, but he 
 couldn't catch her, though he tore the brim half off from his 
 hat, and did something to the skirt of his plaid dress that 
 made it hang down around his feet. Then he went into the 
 coal-cellar, and climbed up and down the great mountain of 
 coal, and played he was a traveler climbing up some icy 
 mountains, like some men Uncle Jim read about. When he 
 w r as tired of this he thought it must be dinner-time, he was 
 so hungry ; so he started for the house. There was an ele- 
 gant carriage at the gate, and he wondered if his Aunt Sue 
 hadn't come to bring him the velocipede she promised him. 
 He went to look for his mamma, but she wasn't in her room, 
 or the dining-room, or the nursery. So he walked straight 
 into the parlor, and there was his pretty mamma, in her 
 nice ruffled morning dress, and there were two strange la- 
 dies and the minister's wife ! 
 
 Dear ! dear ! how his mamma looked ! She felt as if she 
 should faint away; and the strange ladies said, "Is this your 
 youngest, Mrs. Bancroft ?" and tried not to laugh ; but the 
 minister's wife said, " Come here, Tommy? and then she gave 
 right up and laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. 
 Tommy's mamma laughed too, though she looked at first as 
 if she was going to cry ; and Tommy stood there with his 
 old torn skirt hanging down over his muddy little trowsers 
 and stockings, his old torn hat-brim flopping about his shoul- 
 ders, and his hands, and face, and long yellow hair all black 
 and grimy with coal-dust, and wasn't one bit ashamed ! 
 
 Tuesday. 
 If it had not rained that day it never would have hap- 
 pened ; but before Tommy had half finished his breakfast, 
 Uncle Jim got up and walked to the front window, and re- 
 marked that "it was raining cats and doss.*' 
 
198 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Tommy looked up, with his mouth full of bread aud but* 
 ter, to see if Uncle Jim was really in earnest ; but as he 
 looked perfectly sober, he immediately scrambled down 
 from his chair and rushed to the window, expecting* to see 
 a shower of black and white kittens, w T ith a smart sprin- 
 kling of curly dogs. What he really saw w T as a very mud- 
 dy river rushing along through the gutter ; two men, with 
 tin pails and short pipes, tramping down the street ; and a 
 miserable-looking dog, with a bone in his mouth, picking his 
 way through the mud. He looked as if he might have rained 
 down ; but Tommy knew he didn't, because he knew where 
 he lived up the alley, and he had often seen him sneaking 
 around the back door after bits which Tommy threw away 
 when he took his lunch out of doors. Just at that instant 
 Uncle Jim came in from the back hall, and said, in a very 
 dreadful voice, 
 
 " Now, then, Tommy Trotter, where are my rubbers ?" 
 
 When any thing was lost in that house, they always asked 
 Tommy about it. It was a habit they had of supposing that 
 Tommy had had it, especially if it was something he never 
 ought to touch. 
 
 Tommy forgot all about the cats and dogs, and looked at 
 Uncle Jim, and said quickly, "I d'n know." 
 
 That was a habit Tommy had, and he always said "IcPn 
 know" before he stopped to think. But he did know very 
 well, and so he said, 
 
 " Oh yes, Uncle Jim. They're over to Billy's house, in 
 the big troft where the horse drinks. Me and Billy sailed 
 'em for boats, all full wid oats, and they sinked down to the 
 floor of the water." 
 
 "Why, Tommy Bancroft," said his mamma, looking great- 
 ly troubled, "what shall I do with you ?" 
 
 Uncle Jim looked at him very soberly, and said, 
 
 "Well, young man, here I am, two miles from my office, 
 and no rubbers. I should like to know what you mean to 
 do about it. You ought to buy me some .more. I shall 
 catch my death of cold, and then how'll you feel, sir?" 
 
 Tommy's face brightened in a minute. 
 
 "Oh, I'll buy you some more," said he, and trotted away 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 19 l J 
 
 to get his bank, which had a loose floor, so that whatever 
 you put in at the top could be easily shaken out at the bot- 
 tom, an arrangement Tommy found very satisfactory. The 
 first thing that came out was a quarter, very new and crisp ; 
 but Tommy's heart never faltered. 
 
 " There," said he, " you can buy you some more rubbers, 
 and I won't never sail 'em in the troft." 
 
 " Very well," said Uncle Jim, putting the money in his 
 pocket, and going into the hall. 
 
 " Uncle Jim," called Tommy, " if there's any change left, 
 you buy me some pea-nuts, will you ?" 
 
 Uncle Jim nodded and said, " I shouldn't wonder," as he 
 strode out into the rain. 
 
 Tommy's mamma gave the baby her breakfast, talked a 
 while with Bridget about supper, dusted the parlor, and 
 watered the ivy in the bay-window, and then she put the 
 baby on the floor in the dining-room, and gave her some 
 clothes-pins and a tin pan to play with. Tommy had his 
 Noah's ark, but he had to keep it on the table, because the 
 baby put the camels and elephants into her mouth when- 
 ever she got a chance, and once she sucked all the paint off 
 from Shem, Ham, and Japheth, and made herself quite sick. 
 Ellen was ironing in the kitchen, and Mrs. Bancroft said, 
 
 "Now, Ellen, it is such a rainy day nobody will be in, and 
 I am going up to look over the winter clothing, and put it 
 away. The children will do very well in here, but you must 
 keep your door open, and look in once in a while." 
 
 " Yes'm," said Ellen ; " Tommy's gettin' right handy to 
 mind the baby, when he tries." 
 
 " Oh, I'll tend to her," said Tommy, who was trying to 
 stand Mrs. Noah on the ridge-pole of the ark; "Ellen 
 needn't mind about us at all." 
 
 So Tommy's mamma went away up stairs, and Ellen hur- 
 ried with her ironing, looking out once in a while through 
 the rain to see if the grocer's young man was not coming 
 for his orders. When he did come she shut the dining-room 
 door, because the baby was always frightened at the grocer's 
 young man, though Ellen herself did not seem at all afraid 
 of him. It was just at this moment that Tommy spied a 
 
200 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 bottle of mucilage on the clock-shelf over the table, and ^ 
 struck him instantly what a fine thing it would be to fasten 
 on the elephant's trunk and Noah's head again. It was 
 quite easy to reach it and pull out the cork ; but there did 
 not happen to be any brush, so Tommy was forced to use 
 one of his fingers, which answered very well, only he had to 
 wipe it frequently upon his apron. Noah's head refused to 
 stick, and so did the elephant's trunk, though he tried it on 
 most all the animals. 
 
 Then he concluded he would paste up hand-bills, as he 
 had seen men do on the street. So he got baby's little, 
 soft, white hair-brush, and poured out some of the mucilage 
 in the seat of Uncle Jim's table-chair. Then he dipped the 
 brush, and stuck pieces of the morning paper on the walls, 
 on the doors, on the stove, and, last of all, he happened to 
 remember how he had seen a funny man walking through 
 the streets with hand-bills on his hat and his back ; so he 
 pasted some papers on the baby's back, and on the top of 
 her poor little bald head. Baby had no hair to speak of, 
 but she did not at all fancy this way of dressing it, so she 
 set up a loud scream of anger, and at that very moment 
 came a ring at the door-bell. 
 
 "Dear ! dear !" said Tommy's mamma, peeping out at her 
 chamber window, " if there isn't Miss Dilly Dean, come to 
 spend the day." 
 
 Mamma hurried down to the door to receive Miss Dilly, 
 who stood in the hall, with the inky water running off from 
 her umbrella, and making a little black river on the oil- 
 cloth. 
 
 "You didn't look for me to-day, I'm sure," said Miss Dilly, 
 " but I thought I should be sure of a good long visit all to 
 myself, because it rained so." 
 
 Ellen went back to try to hush the baby, and Tommy 
 stood in the door with the hair-brush in his hand, while 
 mamma said, 
 
 " Well, come right into the dining-room, Miss Dilly, and 
 dry your feet; we keep a fire there on account of the 
 baby." 
 
 And Tommy kept on staring at Miss Dilly's funny little 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 201 
 
 curls, until mamma pushed Uncle Jim's chair to the grate, 
 and said, 
 
 " Sit right down here, Miss Dilly ;" and Miss Dilly sat 
 down. 
 
 Mamma began to pick up things about the room, and by- 
 and-by she found the empty mucilage bottle, and she said, 
 
 " Why, Tommy Bancroft ! w here's my mucilage ?" 
 
 Then Tommy put his finger in his mouth, and looked at 
 Miss Dilly harder than ever, and said, "She's sHUn* on it" 
 
 Miss Dilly jumped up as spry as a kitten, and the chair 
 jumped too; and Miss Dilly's best alpaca dress was just 
 about ruined. 
 
 I don't know just what Tommy's mamma said to him, 
 but, whatever it was, she put him to bed afterward to think 
 about it. And that was what happened on Tuesday. 
 
 Wednesday. 
 
 The next day must have been Wednesday, but Tommy 
 did not remember much about it, for, long before morning, 
 he began to feel very sick. He had bad dreams. First, he 
 thought an elephant picked him up with his long, crooked 
 finger, and tucked him away in one corner of his big mouth, 
 and Tommy felt very hot and uncomfortable in there. And 
 then he thought that he had swallowed the elephant, and 
 found him very cold and heavy, and altogether too large for 
 his quarters. And the next Tommy knew, his mamma was 
 standing by his crib with a lamp in her hand, looking very 
 anxious, and that set Tommy to crying. He cried so long 
 and so loud that Uncle Jim came to see what was the mat- 
 ter. Uncle Jim looked very sleepy ; said he guessed Tommy 
 would be all right in the morning ; most likely he had eaten 
 something. Now that was one of Uncle Jim's aggravating 
 ways ; whenever Tommy was sick, he always insisted it was 
 because he had " eaten something" as if boys were not al- 
 ways eating something. When he had said this, he felt as 
 if he had done his whole duty, and went back to bed con- 
 tentedly ; but Tommy's mamma soothed, and petted, and 
 fussed over him until morning, when she told Uncle Jim 
 that, in her. opinion, Tommy was a very sick boy, and must 
 
 T 9 
 
202 . MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 have the doctor at once. Uncle Jim finished his breakfast, 
 and then went into the bedroom chewing his toothpick. He 
 sat down by the bed and took Tommy on his knee. 
 
 " Well, sir," said he, briskly, " are you going to the city 
 with me to-day ?" 
 
 Tommy tried to smile, but he only sneezed five times in 
 succession. 
 
 " My dear child, where's your handkerchief?" exclaimed 
 Uncle Jim, groping about in a bewildered fashion, as if he 
 supposed- little boys had half a dozen pockets in their 
 night-gowns, and carried handkerchiefs in them all. Mam- 
 ma rushed to the rescue, but by that time Uncle Jim had 
 solved the difficulty by wiping Tommy's nose with the cor- 
 ner of the white counterpane. 
 
 "It is only a cold," he said, putting him back in bed, 
 "but, if it will be any satisfaction to you, I'll have the doc- 
 tor come around and look at him. I wouldn't worry about 
 him, though." 
 
 As if the dear little woman could help it. 
 
 Doctor Smith was out of town, so Uncle Jim sent Doctor 
 Brown, a very pompous individual, but quite good-natured. 
 He looked at Tommy, and Tommy's mamma watched him 
 very suspiciously. He looked at his tongue, and felt of his 
 pulse ; then rubbed his hands together, and asked, 
 
 "Has he eaten any thing to disagree with him, madam?" 
 
 "JVbt a thing" said Mrs. Bancroft, positively; "I'm very 
 particular about his diet." 
 
 Then the doctor looked closely at Tommy's face, which 
 was quite red and blubbery, partly with the cold and partly 
 with crying so much ; he looked behind his ears and under 
 his chin ; lifted the yellow hair from his neck, and said, 
 
 " Hm — m ! has your son ever had the measles, madam ?" 
 
 " Never," said Mrs. Bancroft, faintly. 
 
 " Then he has them now, madam," said the doctor, bland- 
 ly. " A very clear case, and coming out finely." And he 
 nodded his head at Tommy, as if it was a delightful thing 
 to have the measles. 
 
 Then they all went out ; but^resently the doctor came 
 back with a spoonful of nice red jelly, and said, • 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 203 
 
 " Here, my little man, is something nice for you ; let me 
 see you take it." 
 
 Tommy had never been deceived about medicine, so he 
 sat up directly and took it in his mouth ; but it tasted very 
 badly, and he would have spit it out, only the doctor looked 
 very fierce, and said "Swallow it, quick!" in such a dreadful 
 voice that Tommy dared not do any thing else. 
 
 Then the doctor went away laughing, as if it was a good 
 joke to cheat a little boy; but Tommy lay down on his pil- 
 low with his honest little heart full of indignation. By-and- 
 by he said, 
 
 " Mamma, don't doctors have to tell the troof like other 
 folks?" 
 
 Tommy's mamma wished him to respect* the doctor, but 
 she thought it a great deal more important that he should 
 respect the truth, so she told him that every body was bound 
 to speak the truth, and that it was not right to deceive sick 
 people or cheat little boys. 
 
 Tommy grew worse instead of better. There were the 
 little red spots on his neck, but no more measles came out, 
 and his mamma began to grow alarmed. She wondered if 
 the doctor knew so very much. He wasn't her doctor, and 
 she had not a particle of confidence in the good sense of any 
 other doctor in the world but her doctor. What if Tommy 
 should die ? And then she remembered all his naughty lit- 
 tle pranks, and wondered how she could have been so vexed 
 with him about the mucilage, and thought, if he only got 
 well, she should never be vexed with him again. About 
 noon she sent Ellen for Uncle Jim, and begged him to tele- 
 graph to New York for Tommy's papa to come straight 
 home. Uncle Jim sat down by Tommy again, and began 
 to question him. Uncle Jim was a very obstinate man, and 
 he still believed Tommy had "eaten something." 
 
 " Where was he yesterday ?" he asked. 
 
 "In the house all day," said mamma; "don't you remem- 
 ber how it rained ?" 
 
 "He was over to Billy's, ma'am, about tea-time," said 
 Ellen ; " you mind you said he might go and play in the 
 barn." 
 
204 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Oh yes," said mamma, " I had forgotten ; but it was only 
 half an hour or so, and he had on his rubbers." 
 
 " Did you play in the water, Tommy ?" asked Uncle Jim. 
 
 " N-no," said Tommy, faintly ; " only we tried to catch it 
 in our moufs, where it runned down the roof, and it went 
 down our backs, and felt awful funny." 
 
 " I should think so," said Uncle Jim ; "and what else did 
 you do ?" 
 
 "Noffin; only played." 
 
 " Played what ? What did you eat f" persisted Uncle Jim. 
 
 " Noffin," said Tommy, " only I was Billy's horse, and — 
 oh yes, Uncle Jim, he gave me some shopped feed" 
 
 " Chopped feed ! what on earth was that ?" asked Uncle 
 Jim, glancing triumphantly at mamma. 
 
 "Why, turnuts and oats, shopped in a pail, and water 
 mixed in," said Tommy, with the pride of an inventor. 
 
 " Raw turnips and oats ! there's a delightful mixture for 
 you," exclaimed Uncle Jim ; " and you ate that stuff, did 
 you, Tommy ?" 
 
 " Y-e-e-s," said Tommy, faintly, as if it was not quite pleas- 
 ant to remember ; " I used to like turnuts" 
 
 Mamma looked perfectly horrified ; Ellen pulled the cor- 
 ner of her apron and giggled as loud as she dared ; but Un- 
 cle Jim leaned back in his chair and laughed a great, hearty, 
 ringing laugh, until you would have thought the windows 
 rattled. 
 
 " Any thing more, Tommy ?" he said, at last ; " did you 
 take any condition-powders ?" 
 
 "No," said Tommy, "but Billy rubbed my neck with 
 gogling oil, 'cause I had the — the marrow bones" 
 
 " Gargling oil ! That accounts for the measles," said 
 Uncle Jim, laughing again ; and then he wiped his eyes, 
 and told Ellen to bring him a glass of warm water, with a 
 teaspoonful of mustard in it. 
 
 " Now, Tommy," said he, " I want you to drink this all 
 down — every drop." 
 
 " Is it good ?" wailed Tommy. 
 
 " Not very," said Uncle Jim, taking a little sip ; " it isn't 
 very bad, either, and if you will drink it all before I count 
 ten, I'll buy you a jack-knife." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 205 
 
 Tommy drank very fast, and Uncle Jim had only counted 
 eight when the last drop was swallowed, and Tommy asked, 
 with a shudder, when he should have the knife. 
 
 " To-night," said Uncle Jim, watching Tommy curiously. 
 
 Perhaps you have taken warm water with mustard in it. 
 If you have, you know just what happened, and why Tom- 
 my lay upon his pillow, about ten minutes afterward, look- 
 ing red about the eyes and white about the mouth, but feel- 
 ing a great deal better. 
 
 " Now, youngster," said Uncle Jim, " I'm going straight 
 after that knife, but I sha'n't get back till tea-time ; so, if 
 you go to sleep, the time will pass before you know it." 
 
 Tommy did go to sleep, and slept so long his mamma be- 
 gan to worry again, but, by the time Uncle Jim came home, 
 a sturdy little voice shouted from the bedroom, 
 
 " Uncle Jim ! where's my knife ?" 
 
 " Ah !" said Uncle Jim, " I believe I have mistaken my 
 profession. I should have been a doctor." 
 
 Thursday and Friday. 
 
 Yes, and a good long night between them. We must 
 take them all together, on account of what happened. It 
 would never do to make two stories out of Tommy's visit to 
 his grandmother. You see, there was something else be- 
 sides the visiting, and it came right in the middle, between 
 Thursday and Friday. That was when he was in the old — 
 But wait till I tell you the beginning of it. 
 
 Tommy was standing on a cricket by the west window, 
 flattening his nose against the pane, and making snail-tracks 
 all over the glass with his tongue, when grandma drove up, 
 with Dolly and the red wagon. Dolly was the horse ; and 
 she and grandma had come to take Tommy out to the farm 
 in Pearfield, you know, where his grandparents lived, to stay 
 two whole days. And he wasn't going as a baby, with some- 
 body to take care of him, but as a young gentleman who 
 could look out for himself. 
 
 " Nobody ain't goin' wiv me," said he to Ellen, triumph- 
 antly. " I'm jes goin' all myself, alone ; me 'n gamma." 
 
 It was the grandest thing that ever was heard of to go 
 
206 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 off as his father did, kissing them all good-by, and, perhaps, 
 seeing his mother cry a little. 
 
 If she felt ever so much like crying, she could only cry 
 with laughter when Tommy came down from the garret, 
 covered with cobwebs and dust, and presented himself in 
 the parlor, dragging an old blue umbrella and a carpet-bag 
 bigger than himself 
 
 " There, my fings are all ready," said he. 
 
 Grandma laughed heartily too ; yet she made no objec- 
 tion to the outfit of the young traveler, but stowed the bag 
 and umbrella into the wagon, while Tommy was lifted into 
 the seat, and Dolly's head was turned toward Pearfield. 
 
 The journey was not a long one, and only one thing worth 
 mentioning happened on the way. They were passing a 
 great clover-field, just by the edge of the pine woods, when 
 Tommy cried out, 
 
 " Oh ! gamma, gamma, I see a bear, a sittin' right up on 
 the end of his tail." 
 
 Grandma looked where Tommy pointed, and Dolly stop- 
 ped to look too. 
 
 " Don't you see him ?" cried Tommy. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Put on your speckatles, then." 
 
 The spectacles were put on, and, after a long while, she 
 saw what the sharp young eyes had spied so quickly, an old 
 woodchuck sitting at the mouth of his hole. Just as Tom- 
 my was proposing to capture him in the carpet-bag, he 
 whisked out of sight ; and Dolly started off at a brisk pace, 
 which she kept up without stopping till she reached her own 
 hitching-post at grandpa's gate. 
 
 Grandpa himself was there to meet them, and lifted the 
 funny little boy and his funny big baggage out of the red 
 wagon. When he heard about the bear, he told Tommy 
 that there were plenty of such bears in his fields, and that 
 perhaps they would go and catch one after dinner. 
 
 " In the carpet bag ?" asked Tommy. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " We must have the 'breller to spear him wiv." 
 
 44 Of course." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 207 
 
 Long before grandpa was ready to go, Tommy was parad- 
 ing the yard, spearing imaginary bears with his umbrella, 
 and putting them into his bag. He had just caught a fine 
 large one, when he heard a loud rumble, and, looking up, 
 saw a man run a great yellow stage out of the barn on the 
 other side of the street. Tommy ran to the fence, and, 
 squeezing his chubby face as far as possible between the 
 pickets, watched the man while he washed the coach, 
 greased the wheels, one at a time, and finally lit his pipe 
 and went away. When he was quite out of sight Tommy 
 unlatched the gate and went over to the coach. Finding 
 one of the doors open, he climbed up the iron steps, tugging 
 the bag and umbrella after him, to try a short ride by stage 
 — a standing-still ride, of course. He played that he was 
 papa going to New York ; then that the great hole under 
 the seat was a den full of bears ; and then that he was the 
 bear himself. He crawled into the den. It was a funny 
 place, with nice straw on the floor, and a long curtain of 
 leather in front. He lay very still in there, and softly growl- 
 ed to his make-believe cubs to look out for that terrible hunt- 
 er, Tommy. 
 
 Now you know that bears are very sleepy fellows, and it 
 is not strange that this little wild animal by-and-by fell 
 asleep in his den. 
 
 Meantime grandma had looked out of the front door, and, 
 not seeing Tommy any where, thought that he had gone 
 with grandpa to the field ; while grandpa himself had for- 
 gotten the young bear-hunter altogether, and had gone to 
 the field alone. 
 
 After a time the stage-driver came, harnessed his four 
 horses to the coach, and drove it away. He stopped at the 
 store to get the mail-bag and take in several passengers. 
 There was a fat woman with a baby, an Irish servant-girl, 
 a one-legged little French peddler, and a stiff old gentleman 
 with a gold-headed cane. With this load the yellow stage 
 started for Ryetown, twelve miles away, and Tommy still 
 asleep under the seat. 
 
 When he awoke he couldn't tell where he was, and won- 
 dered what made his bed rock and bounce about so. Then 
 
208 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 he heard the people talking right over his head. He peep* 
 ed under the leather curtain, and saw several pairs of shoes. 
 Too frightened to know what he did, he lifted the curtain 
 and gave one desperate spring, thrusting his curly head, all 
 covered with straw, right between the old gentleman's legs. 
 
 If a real bear had jumped out he could not have made 
 more confusion. The old gentleman sprang to his feet, 
 smashing his hat over his eyes by striking against the top 
 of the coach ; the Irish girl screamed " Murther !" and tried 
 to leap out of the window ; the fat woman fainted and drop- 
 ped her baby ; the little Frenchman jumped up and down on 
 his orfe leg till he lost his balance and tumbled over ; and 
 Tommy clung with both hands to the old gentleman's panta- 
 loons, and screamed with all his might. 
 
 I can not begin to describe what followed, or record the 
 questions with which Tommy was assailed, in English, Irish, 
 and French, to all of which he could only say that his grand- 
 pa owned Dolly and kept bears, and that he was a bear him- 
 self when he went to sleep. Of course there was nothing to 
 do but take the little bear to Ryetown, and send him back 
 by Friday's coach. So he cried himself to sleep that night 
 in the Ryetown hotel, and early the next morning was lifted 
 into the yellow stage again. All the way back the driver 
 wondered what he should do with the boy when he got to 
 Pearfield ; but there was no need of worrying about that, 
 for every body in town knew that he was lost, and dozens 
 of people were looking for him in every direction. You can 
 guess whether any body was glad when the little runaway 
 was set down at grandpa's gate, umbrella, carpet-bag, and 
 all. 
 
 Grandma's eyes looked very red, and her voice trembled 
 when she said, 
 
 " Why, Tommy, Tommy, you poor, dear child, where have 
 . you been ?" 
 
 " Oh, ever'n ever so far !" said the young adventurer, with 
 a sigh ; " way, way over most to the 'lutionary war. Has 
 gampa caughted my bear ?" 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 209 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 Nothing would induce Grandma Bancroft to keep Tommy 
 another night, though he begged hard to be allowed to stay 
 and spear one of those bears. 
 
 "I shouldn't be easy a minute with him in the house," 
 said grandma ; " not if he was locked into the room and the 
 windows nailed up; something would be sure to happen to 
 him." 
 
 So Dolly was harnessed to the red wagon, and Tommy 
 was sent home, with his big " carper bag" filled with dough- 
 nuts, and caraway cakes, and great white hickory nuts, and 
 a few little red apples, that were beginning to get tough 
 and wrinkly in the skin. 
 
 His mamma was delighted to see him, but she grew very 
 pale, and hugged Tommy hard, when she heard how the lit- 
 tle fellow had been lost a whole night. 
 
 "And just to think that I was sleeping comfortably here 
 at home, and my poor darling away among strangers," said 
 she, mournfully, as if she thought it was very cruel of her. 
 
 " Ho !" said Tommy, " I wasn't 'fraid 'tall. I cried a lit- 
 tle, 'cause I fought gamma'd be a wantin' me." 
 
 He was very well satisfied to be at home, however, and 
 climbed into his crib more pleasantly than usual, for mam- 
 ma had promised him that in the morning he would find 
 something very nice in the chair beside it. He thought it 
 would be very hard to wait so long, but it only seemed a 
 minute or so before he waked up and heard the robins sing- 
 ing with all their might out in the cherry-trees. Mamma 
 was brushing her hair, moving about very softly, so as not 
 to wake baby, and Tommy sat right up and looked about 
 him, rubbing his eyes with his little fat fists. Sure enough, 
 there was " something" on the chair where he had left his 
 little plaid dress and ruffled panties. A new dress ? — no, 
 not a dress at all, but the prettiest little suit; jacket and 
 pants of soft gray cloth, buttoned with shining pearl but- 
 tons, and trimmed with braid. Tommy could hardly believe 
 his eyes ; but he was on the floor in a twinkle, laughing and 
 chuckling, and trying to put his pants right on over his long 
 
210 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 night-gown. Mamma was almost as much pleased as Tom. 
 my was, and she helped the little fellow to dress, and swung 
 the mirror back that he might see himself from head to foot. 
 
 " Just like a man," giggled Tommy, thrusting his hands 
 into his pockets; and baby lifted her precious little head 
 from the pillow, and stared at him with her great blue eyes, 
 as if she wondered who that boy was. 
 
 " She don't know me," said Tommy, in still greater de- 
 light. "JShe won't never have pants, will she?" he added, in 
 a tone that was partly pity and partly triumph. 
 
 When he w^ent out to breakfast, Uncle Jim pretended not 
 to know him, and said," Good morning, sir ! very fine weath- 
 er we are having." 
 
 And then he asked mamma if she expected Tommy home 
 pretty soon. 
 
 " Why, Uncle Jim," said Tommy, showing two great dim- 
 ples in his hard red cheeks, "I'm Tommy ! Don't you see 
 I'm got pants?" 
 
 "You Tommy?" said Uncle Jim, looking very much as- 
 tonished ; " I should think not ; you're a young gentleman ; 
 Tommy's a little girl, and wears dresses." 
 
 "I ain't never goin' to be a girl any more," said Tommy; 
 " pretty soon I'll have boots, and long sleeves to my shirt." 
 
 Tommy was quite indignant because his mamma pinned 
 a napkin around his neck at the table, but Uncle Jim begged 
 her to pin his napkin around his neck, and informed Tommy 
 that gentlemen often did so at restaurants. So Tommy w r as 
 consoled. 
 
 u I suppose you won't care about eating pea-nuts and can- 
 dy any more," said Uncle Jim, as he went away. 
 
 Tommy was walking about with his hands behind him, 
 trying to make his shoes squeak. He stopped and looked 
 at Uncle Jim to see if he was in earnest. There was a 
 twinkle in his eye that reassured Tommy, so he went on 
 squeaking his shoes, and wondering what Billy would say 
 to him. He determined to go over immediately and see : 
 but mamma spoiled that plan by telling him not to go out- 
 side the gate on any account, or do any thing to soil his new 
 clothes, because his papa was coming home that very morn- 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 211 
 
 ing, and Tommy must look very nice. Tommy forgot Billy, 
 and jumped around on one foot for joy, and wondered if bis 
 papa would know him in his pants and jacket. 
 
 "Maybe he'll think it's Uncle Jim," said Tommy to him- 
 self, and then he put on his uncle's rainy-day hat, and marched 
 up and down the porch. When he got tired of this, he went 
 into the kitchen to see Bridget, and discovered, to his great 
 delight, that it was baking day, and all manner of nice-look- 
 ing and nice-smelling things were being made. Generally, 
 Bridget sent Tommy out of the kitchen quick as a wink, but 
 to-day she was pleased with his new clothes, and she was 
 going to ride with her cousin in the afternoon, so she said, 
 "La sakes ! just to look at the fine young gintleman ! 
 Would you be plazed to take a sate, sir ?" 
 
 Tommy giggled, and sat down in the chair by the end of 
 Bridget's table. He sat very still for a few minutes, watch- 
 ing Bridget's bare red arms as she beat the eggs for a plum* 
 pudding. 
 
 " Oh, Bridget !" he said, suddenly, " you're got holes in 
 your elabows," and then Bridget laughed till she got two 
 more holes right in the middle of her round fat cheeks. 
 
 After a while he forgot about being a gentleman, and be- 
 gan to tease Bridget for raisins, and currants, and bits of 
 citron, and tastes of jelly, and lumps of sugar. He put the 
 nutmeg-grater in his pocket, and at last, in leaning upon the 
 table to see just how Bridget made the scallops on the pies, 
 he managed to plant his elbow right in the middle of a 
 cranberry pie, all ready for the oven. Tommy screamed, 
 and so did Bridget ; Tommy in dismay, and Bridget in an- 
 ger, which only made matters worse, as anger always does, 
 for when Bridget jerked Tommy up from the table with a 
 shake that landed him on his feet in the chair, he staggered 
 and tottered, and fell over backward plump into the great 
 bread-pan, which stood there, full to the brim with a moun- 
 tain of white, puffy dough. Oh dear ! but that was a fix to 
 be in ! and by the time Bridget had pulled Tommy out with 
 her great floury hands, rubbed his elbow with a towel, and 
 scraped his pants with a big knife, you may be sure the new 
 clothes were a siorht to see. 
 
212 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Mamma thought she should cry at first, it was such a dis- 
 appointment, you see; but one look at Tommy's miserable 
 face made her so sorry for her poor little man that she 
 comforted him very bravely, washed his sticky hands, and 
 let him keep on his pants, though they did look funny be- 
 hind, especially when they came to dry, as if Tommy had 
 been pasted up somewhere and just broken loose. Tommy 
 went out in the yard again, and Lion, the big dog, got up 
 from his rug by the door, and came smelling around him, as 
 if he suspected a strange boy had come into the yard. He 
 didn't seem to approve of the new clothes at all, for he went 
 back to his rug with a growl of disgust, which amused Tom- 
 my very much. He followed Lion, and curled himself up 
 beside him, and laid his head on his shaggy side. 
 
 "Are you tired, Tommy ?" asked his mamma, looking out 
 at the window. 
 
 u Oh no," said Tommy, " I'm just a finkin." 
 
 It was very warm and sunny, so Tommy's mamma let him 
 keep on "finkin" and when his papa came home he found 
 him there fast asleep. 
 
 Perhaps you think that was enough for one week, but it 
 wasn't, for Tommy's papa brought him a music box that 
 would play three tunes, and a set of toy horsemen that rode 
 up and down to the tune of Captain Jinks when you turned 
 the handle to the box they stood upon, so of course he had 
 to go over after dinner to show his treasures and his new 
 clothes to Billy. The result was dreadfully disappointing 
 so far as the new clothes were concerned, for that young 
 gentleman sniffed up his nose at them in decided disap- 
 proval. 
 
 " Ho !" said Billy. " They're most like a girl ; only come 
 to your knees, and no galluses. I don't have my clothes 
 that way." 
 
 Tommy stared with his big eyes, and wondered what "gal- 
 luses" might be, but had not a doubt that there was but one 
 proper way to make clothes, and that was just like Billy's. 
 Now Billy's mamma never troubled herself about the spring 
 fashions, or any other fashions. She had half a dozen boys, 
 and when the older ones outgrew their clothes, she just 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. 213 
 
 cut off the legs a little, patched the knees and elbows, and 
 passed them on clown the row. Billy's present pants hap- 
 pened to be a little long, and a little baggy, but that was a 
 fault time would remedy ; so, after inspecting them a mo- 
 ment, Tommy unbuckled his little trowsers at the knee, and 
 stretched and smoothed them down over his scarlet stock- 
 ings. It was no use ; at the very best, they would not reach 
 his ankles. 
 
 " Tell ye what," said Billy, "if ye had some galluses, them 
 pants would reach down." 
 
 " Y-e-s," said Tommy, in bewilderment. 
 
 The inventive Billy went directly to work, and manufac- 
 tured a pair of suspenders out of some old red reins. The 
 short trowsers were unbuttoned from the jacket, and let 
 down to a desirable length, the "galluses" fastened on with 
 pins and twine, and then Billy surveyed his work with tri- 
 umph. 
 
 To be sure there was a noticeable gap between the top of 
 the trowsers and the bottom of the jacket, but the red sus- 
 penders bridged it over, and Billy remembered to have seen 
 the same lack upon Jake, the hostler ; so both boys were 
 satisfied. 
 
 " There, now !" said Billy ; " now you look something 
 like." 
 
 He didn't say like what, and Tommy didn't ask, but they 
 played with the soldiers till Ellen rung the bell for tea. 
 Then papa and mamma, looking out at the parlor window, 
 ! saw a funny little figure coming across the yard, with gray 
 trowsers dragging over its feet, red suspenders stretching 
 down in front across a puif of plaid flannel shirt, and a ga\ 
 little plaid banner streaming bravely out in the rear. Tom- 
 my's papa laughed and shouted, and felt like rolling on the 
 floor, and he called Uncle Jim, and he laughed 100; but, 
 though Tommy went to the window the minute he got in, 
 to see what the fun was, he couldn't see any thing at all. 
 
214 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 HEEDLESSNESS, OR THE CONCEITED LITTLE GRASS. 
 HOPPER. 
 
 There was a little grasshopper 
 
 Forever on the jump ; 
 And, as he never looked ahead, 
 
 He often got a bump. 
 
 His mother said to him one day, 
 
 As they were in the stubble, 
 u If you don't look before you leap, 
 
 You'll get yourself in trouble." 
 
 This silly little grasshopper 
 
 Depised his wise old mother, 
 And said he knew what best to do, 
 
 And bade her not to bother. 
 
 He hurried off across the fields — 
 
 An unknown path he took — 
 When, oh ! he gave a heedless jump, 
 
 And landed in a brook. 
 
 He struggled hard to reach the bank— 
 
 A floating straw he seizes — 
 When quick a hungry trout darts out^ 
 
 And tears him all to pieces. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Good little boys and girls, heed well 
 
 Your mothers' wise advice : 
 Before you move, look carefully ; 
 
 Before you speak, think twice. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 
 
 COLUMBIA'S UNION PARTY.— From the School Festival. 
 
 characters : 
 Columbia. Brother Jonathan. 
 
 Uncle Sam. District of Columbia. 
 
 The Thirty-seven States. 
 
 (Columbia dressed in national colors ; Uncle Sam in Conti- 
 nental uniform ; Brother Jonathan as an old-time Yan- 
 kee ; each State wears a circlet, with the initials of her 
 name. State characteristics should be represented as far 
 as possible in the dress of each state; thus, Michigan shoidd 
 have copper chains and other ornaments ; Nevada, of sil- 
 ver; California, of gold ; Delaware may be in Swedish 
 dress. The stage should be adorned with flags, stars, and 
 shields. Columbia must have a raised central seat, and 
 there should be a table for receiving the gifts. District 
 of Columbia should receive and arrange ihern.~\ 
 
 Miter Uncle Sam. 
 Columbia. Uncle Sam ! welcome to my Union party. 
 Uncle Sam. Thanks, fair Columbia; hope you're well and 
 
 hearty. 
 Col. Quite well, good uncle ; I'm rejoiced you're here — 
 It will be such support to have you near. 
 
 Miter Brother Jonathan. 
 And Brother Jonathan I hope to see — 
 
 Brother Jonathan. Wal, neow, Columby, shake hands ; 
 here I be. 
 How big a party will ye have, d'ye s'pose ? 
 And will the young folks poke fun at my clothes? 
 
216 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Col. No, no, dear brother — not one bit of danger ; 
 You will not meet to-day a single stranger. 
 Only the children, coming home once more 
 To see their mother, now she's ninety-four. 
 Almost a hundred ! Jonathan, alas ! 
 Our days are as the grass — like sands they pass ! 
 
 Bro. J. Oh sho ! Columby, now don't cry no more — 
 Somebody's knockin' ; I'll go 'tend the door. 
 
 Enter District of Columbia. 
 
 Col, Oh ! 'tis my little District ; she's so near, 
 She is the very first one to appear. 
 
 Enter New England States ; Uncle Sam receives them, and 
 presents them to Columbia; each salutes her, kisses her 
 hand, and then is placed on one side of Columbia. 
 
 Maine. I touch this sacred hand with loving lips. 
 Receive from me a model of my ships. 
 
 New Hampshire. I bring a sceptre that a king might 
 own, 
 Made from free pines from our Mount Washington. 
 
 Vermont. And I a crown-wreath fit to deck a queen, 
 Made by Green Mountain girls, of laurels green. 
 
 Massachusetts. I bring you fabrics rich, of varied stock, 
 From hills and vales that end at Plymouth Rock. 
 
 Bro. J. (aside). Old Massachusetts never went out yet 
 But what she bragged on Plymouth Rock, you bet. 
 
 Connecticut. I bring my fair, pure laws to show to you ; 
 Mother Columbia, see, they are ?iot "Blue!" 
 
 Rhode Island I'm little Rhody, and I bring you this : 
 Mother Columbia, bend and take — a kiss. 
 
 Col. By-and-by, daughters, we will talk some more. 
 Hark ! Jonathan, pray don't neglect the door. 
 
 Bro. J. Yes, yes, Columby, I'll 'tend ; don't you worry. 
 I'll see who's thumpin' out there, in a hurry. 
 
 Enter New York : Uncle Sam presents her. 
 Uncle S. This is New York, the grand,proud Empire State. 
 New York. I came alone, because I have 710 mate I 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 217 
 
 Bro. J. You jest hold on, and give the West fair chance, 
 And Illinois will jine ye in the dance. 
 
 Uncle 8. " Hold on" New York ne'er does, but Illinois 
 May catch up, if she can — she has her choice. 
 
 Bro. J. Wal, here's New Jersey, fit to stand beside her, 
 With *sure's you live, a jug of Newark cider ! 
 
 Pennsylvania. And I, Penn's Keystone State, with loyal 
 soul, 
 Offer Columbia samples of my coal. 
 
 Col. Jonathan, the door. 
 
 Bro. J. Wal, neow, I dew declare, 
 Ef here don't come eour little Delaware ! 
 And she's got on the same old Swedish dress 
 She wore in sixteen thirty-seven, I guess ! 
 
 Col. My eldest daughter, and my little pet, 
 Say, do you love your dear old mother yet ? 
 
 Delaware. Yes, true and dear, Columbia, as when 
 I was thine only child, and loved thee then. 
 
 Maryland. I bring a heavy offering in my hand : 
 "Tis useful iron ore, from Maryland. 
 
 Bro. J. Neow, ra'ally, Columby, that ain't bad — 
 No knowin' how soon you'll need an iron-clad. 
 
 East and West Virginia. We went where sad Mount Ver- 
 non's willow weeps, 
 To bring thee flowers from where thy hero sleeps. 
 
 Col. It is an omen good that thus ye came — 
 One memory, one love, almost one name. 
 
 Uncle 8. See, for thy blessing three now bend and wait : 
 Georgia, " Palmetto," and the " Old North JState." 
 
 Georgia. I've sweet potatoes, best the South can yield. 
 
 North and South Carolina. We've rice and cotton from 
 sea-isle and field. 
 
 Mississippi and Alabama. More cotton from the Gulf's 
 rich shores we bring ; 
 Thine is the cotton, though the cotton's king. 
 
 Florida. I offer garlands from the land of flowers, 
 Culled in my lowland swamps and live-oak bowers. 
 
 Bro. J. Wal, I remember when them beowers was holes 
 To hide awav the skulkin' Seminoles ; 
 
 K 
 
218 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And when the harnsome flowers you had were fewer'n 
 Creek Injins in them swampy lands o' yourn. 
 
 Louisiana. Wrought in fit forms Columbia's lips to greet, 
 We bring bright samples of our sugars sweet. 
 
 Bro. J. (in a whisper). Neow, Rhody, since you're standin' 
 in there handy, 
 You jest neow, on the sly, pass reound that candy ! 
 Knock, knock ; I'm comin' ; wonder who you be ? 
 
 Col. I welcome Texas ! my " Lone Star" I see. 
 
 California. O'er the Pacific Railroad vast I came. 
 
 Bro. J. Wal, you're a shiner ! Tell us what's your name ? 
 
 Col. I know my darling from Pacific shore. 
 
 Cal. Receive these chains of gold ; this golden ore. 
 
 Arkansas and Missouri. Within your courts are gifts that 
 we bestow, 
 Our flocks and herds that loudly bleat and low. 
 
 Bro. J. Neow, Uncle Sam, you've got to help 'tend door, 
 Here's Western gals comin', half a score. 
 To laugh at me they'll to each other beckon — 
 But 'taint no wuss to guess than 'tis to reckon; 
 An' ef they hint at soup of codfish-tails, 
 I'll jest hand out to them ^hoxxt prairie whales. 
 
 Uncle S. Oh, Jonathan, don't be so sensitive ; 
 Our family motto should be, live — let live. 
 
 Col. And, Jonathan, I'm sure it is small loss 
 Whether they ride a horrsc, or you a hoss. 
 Just let them reckon, or, perhaps, allow; . 
 You calculate and guess — now that you know. 
 Since we're in sections, why, of course, we're sectional ; 
 But, seems to me, we all may be affectional. 
 
 Bro. J. Here's Tennessee, with old Kentuck to back her. 
 
 Tennessee and Kentucky. Take, if perchance you choose, 
 some fine tobacco. [brook it ? 
 
 Col. {angrily). What! if I chew! What insult! Shall I 
 
 Bro. J. Wal, no ; I'd " put it in my pipe and smoke it." 
 
 Uncle S. They only meant, Columbia, did you choose 
 To see their product men will have and use. 
 
 Col. My children, your old mother made mistake ; 
 Give me your hand — receive a cordial shake. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 219 
 
 Ohio. Fair mother, see my wealth of golden corn. 
 
 Indiana and Illinois. And ripened grains from our broad 
 prairies shorn. 
 
 Michigan. See, I from Lake Superior's distant shore 
 Bring, green and shining, precious copper ore. 
 
 Iowa and Wisconsin. We, from our mines, bring wedges 
 of our lead, 
 For bullets that we pray you ne'er may need. 
 
 Minnesota, Oregon, and Kansas. We bring not here our 
 gift your halls to cumber, 
 But send to us for lots of grain and lumber. 
 
 Nevada and Nebraska. We are your youngest ; open wide 
 your hands, 
 We'll fill them with our shining silver sands. 
 
 Col. A stranger comes ; pray, Jonathan, go meet her. 
 
 Bro.J. Wal, neow, I guess that she's a curi's creetur, 
 Rigged out in snow-shoes, seal-skiu, furs — I'll ask her 
 To give her name. She says she's Miss Alaska. 
 
 Col. Uncle Sam, bring her in ; although you bought her, 
 She shall be welcome here as any daughter. 
 
 Alaska. Thanks, dear Columbia ; and I'll guard your gates 
 When hostile hordes pour down — through Behring's Straits ! 
 
 Bro. J. Hallo, there ! what's that thumpin' now ag'in ? 
 
 Col. I know ! my boys in the last Western train. 
 They come to swell my Union Party's glories 
 By bringing news from my rich territories. 
 
 Enter boys from Washington, Idaho, Montana, Dakotah, 
 Utah, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Indian Terri- 
 tories. These should be in backiooods dress, and ivith 
 rifles. They sing: 
 
 Tune: "When Johnny comes marching home." 
 
 The boys they come marching from the West ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! 
 
 Montana, Dakotah, and the rest ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! 
 
 With Washington, Colorado, 
 
 New Mexico and Idaho ; 
 
 And we all feel gay to visit Columbia. 
 
220 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 The boys they come marching from the West ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! 
 
 From Utah and Indian, and the rest ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! 
 
 Through grand primeval wilds we come, 
 
 Arizona our farthest home, 
 
 And we all feel gay to visit Columbia. 
 
 Uncle S. (addressing the States). Now, my fair nieces, hear 
 a word from me : 
 I'd call, if you were boys, for three times three ; 
 But gentle maidens' voices lovelier sound 
 When sweetly sending music-strains around. 
 So let's all sing, while gay we gathered are, 
 The grand old song of "Hail Columbia." 
 
 [All sing "Hail Columbia." 
 
 Columbia's address: 
 Thanks, children — love is strong and words are weak; 
 My love, your loyalty, no words can speak. 
 And do you love me so, and I so old ? 
 
 Bro. J. Of course they dew ; must you ag'in be 
 told? 
 
 Uncle S. Hush, Jonathan; don't interrupt the address. 
 
 Bro. J. You're right — Columby's got the floor, I guess. 
 
 Col. Well-nigh a hundred am I. I rejoice 
 To see each daughter's face, and hear her voice ; 
 And I rejoice, too, at the manly strain 
 That sounds from Western mount, and shore, and plain. 
 I'll happier grow as on my swift years run — 
 Each daughter fair, and brave and strong each son. 
 Continue true and loyal unto me, 
 And kind and loving to each other be ; 
 Sound welcome o'er the earth, that all may come, 
 And find in your broad lands an ample home. 
 Bid all men hasten from oppression's ban, 
 And don't be shy of poor John Chinaman; 
 Don't have him brought as merchandise, but then 
 Welcome him as you do all fellow-men. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG EOLKS. 221 
 
 Love virtue, truth, and honor, and fair Fame 
 Shall wreathe bright garlands for each shining name. 
 There, introduce, shake hands, acquainted be, 
 And then we'll all sit down to Union tea. 
 
 Pantomime. — Let there be a general introducing one to an- 
 other , but only with motions, keeping perfect silence. Then, 
 tohen Uncle Sam offers his arm to Columbia, Brother 
 Jonathan to New York, let all choose partners, and 
 march around and off the stage, to the tune of "Yankee 
 Doodle." 
 
 THE TEA-KETTLE'S PARTY. —From Our Young Folks. 
 
 The Tea-kettle danced and sang, and sang and danced, 
 until Mary, the cook, thought it would dance itself off the 
 range ; but she didn't know that it felt awfully jolly, and 
 was telling its neighbor, the Saucepan (who was boiling po- 
 tatoes for the dinner), that it intended to give a party. 
 
 "Why shouldn't we have a party?" sang the Kettle. 
 " We've worked hard enough, goodness knows, for some 
 weeks past. What with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New- 
 year's-day, we're nearly worn out. Let's rest a day or two, 
 and then have a party ourselves." 
 
 The Saucepan rattled its lid in hearty applause, and held 
 out its handle in token of ready acquiescence. 
 
 The Poker and Shovel, who had been listening, cried, 
 "That's an excellent idea!" and so the matter was settled. 
 
 That evening, after the servants had gone to bed, the 
 Tongs, who was the best walker, on account of the length 
 of his legs, went round with the invitations. Of course none 
 of the China family were invited, because they lived in the 
 dining-room, and very rarely associated with the inhabit- 
 ants of the kitchen. The Tins glowed with delight when 
 they heard of the party, and the young Pans and small Pip- 
 kins raised such a clatter that the Rolling-pin gave them sev- 
 eral round raps to silence them. 
 
 At last the long-looked-for evening arrived. All the fam- 
 ily had retired, and the kitchen was put in perfect order. 
 The Broom had swept the floor until not a grain of dust 
 
222 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 could be found on it, and the Tins had polished themselves 
 until they shone again. 
 
 The Kettle was so excited that, although it was a winter 
 evening, she was in a state of profuse perspiration, and the 
 Saucepan had her round hat placed on one side of her head 
 in the most knowing manner. 
 
 The first arrivals were the Tins. They lived up town, 
 and were obliged to slide down the walls, but this did not 
 dim their lustre in the least. 
 
 " You all look as though you were brand-new out of the 
 store," said the good-natured Kettle to them. 
 
 Then came the guests who resided in the closets. First 
 the Frying-pan and the Griddle stepped out, their broad faces 
 shining with good-humor, and looking as though they fed 
 on the fat of the land. 
 
 Next came the Coffee-pot, with the Quart-measure lean- 
 ing gracefully on his arm, accompanied by her daughter, 
 Miss Pint. Then came the Gridiron and the Dish-pan, the 
 latter wearing an elegant waterfall made out of the dish- 
 cloth. The next couple were the Hash-chopper (oh ! such a 
 sharp fellow) and the Fluting-iron, who w r ore her hair in the 
 fashionable style, waving down her back ; and they were 
 followed by the two large wooden Spoons. Some Earthen 
 Dishes and a number of Pipkins arrived soon after, and the 
 party commenced. 
 
 The Kettle proposed a waltz, and although, on several oc- 
 casions, the Dinner-pot had called her black, she kindly for- 
 gave him, and, taking his arm, prepared to lead off the dance. 
 An old Guitar in the corner struck up a merry tune, and a 
 small Waiter behind the stove played upon the tambourine. 
 
 The Poker grasped the Shovel round the w r aist and hop- 
 ped into the middle of the room, the Broom slid off with the 
 Window-brush, the Coffee-pot danced with the Quart-meas- 
 ure, and the Griddle pulled the Dish-pan about so rudely 
 that her waterfall fell off, and was found by the cook on the 
 hearth in the morning. The Tins jingled and tinkled, and 
 even the Nutmeg-grater, a rough old fellow, could not re- 
 sist the music, but seized the Apple-corer, and danced away 
 as merrily as the rest. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 223 
 
 After the waltz they had a polka, then a quadrille ; then 
 the Tongs danced the Sailor's Hornpipe in a manner wonder- 
 ful to behold. When he ceased every one applauded ; even 
 the Covers on the range rattled as loudly as possible to 
 show how pleased they were. 
 
 After the hornpipe the Kettle made a steaming bowl of 
 punch, and the Broom proposed the health of the hostess. 
 The hostess said she was strictly temperate, never drank 
 any thing but water, but never refused to assist in making 
 punch for those who liked it. In water, therefore, she re- 
 turned the toast, and hoped they might all meet again soon 
 and spend another pleasant evening ; she loved and esteem- 
 ed her friends, and would like to see them often. 
 
 " I'm most steamed," whispered the Iron-stand, " for I 
 hang from the mantel right over the range." 
 
 " Joke !" cried one of the little Pipkins, and laughed until 
 he cracked his sides. 
 
 The company then dispersed; and the girls, coming in 
 next morning, never dreamed that the Tea-kettle had been 
 having a party. 
 
 THE WHITE GIANT.— From Our Young Folks. 
 
 One afternoon, about a hundred years ago, a boy was sit- 
 ting in his grandmother's kitchen, apparently doing nothing 
 in particular, but really holding a very remarkable conver- 
 sation with — whom do you think ? — a white giant ! 
 
 Now on the face of it, nothing would seem more unlikely 
 than that a giant should be found in a plain little Scotch 
 kitchen not more than eight feet high from the bare floor to 
 the unplaned rafters; all the more so when a horse-shoe 
 hung by the chimney-side, and the old lady's Bible, with 
 her silver-bowed spectacles on the top of it, lay on the shelf. 
 Nevertheless, there was the giant ; and there, gazing intent- 
 ly on the place of his imprisonment, were the only two eyes 
 in all Scotland that were able to find him out. 
 
 Indeed, I must tell you that the giant, in his proper state, 
 was quite invisible ; but, when he did appear in plain view, 
 it was in the shape of a very old man with long white hair 
 and beard, which seemed to encircle him like a garment, un- 
 
224 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 less, indeed, they flowed down and mingled with his gar- 
 ment; and all — hair, beard, and robe — were whiter than 
 snow. Therefore he is called the white giant. 
 
 And this is the way in which he made himself known to 
 the boy. 
 
 Sitting by the fire, James had noticed that the lid of the 
 tea-kettle was in a singular state of agitation. It would 
 rise and fall, and flutter up and down in a very excited man- 
 ner ; and, coming as he did of a race that had believed for 
 centuries in witches and goblins, and many supernatural 
 creatures, the boy naturally began to suspect that some im- 
 prisoned force or other was beneath it, struggling to get- 
 free. 
 
 " Who are you ?" said he, very quietly ; " and what do 
 you want, that you are so restless and excited ?" 
 
 " Space, freedom, and something to do !" cried the captive 
 giant from within. 
 
 " Softly ! you have not told me yet who you are," said 
 James. 
 
 " No matter who I am. I'm pressed down here into noth- 
 ing at all, and I am a great strong giant that wants room to 
 work and be free." 
 
 " Well, well ! there's work enough to be done," said 
 James. " Never was a race that wanted more done for it. 
 But what can you do ?" 
 
 "Try me and see. No one can do more. I will carry 
 your ships, draw your carriages, and lift all your weights. 
 I will plow your fields, sow the grain, and reap and thresh 
 the harvests. I will hew away mountains and build roads. 
 I will turn all the wheels in all your factories. I will weave 
 your cloths, and print your books, and carry them to the 
 ends of the earth. In short, I will do every thing that 
 strength can do, and you shall be the brain that directs. 
 I will be the faithful servant to fulfill all your commands." 
 
 " Here's a singular treasure-trove to be found in an old 
 copper tea-kettle !" cried James, rubbing his eyes to be sure 
 he was not dreaming. 
 
 "Only shows the use of having your eyes open," replied 
 his strange companion. " I am one of the forces that were 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 225 
 
 created to work for you ; but you have a fancy for drudg- 
 ery, it seems, and prefer to dig and weave for yourselves." 
 
 " Indeed, we prefer no such thing," said James, laughing. 
 "We are told that it is one of our great vices to require oth- 
 er people to work for us while we sit idle." 
 
 " That is very true*when it is your brethren that you are 
 enslaving," replied the giant ; " but you have not found out 
 half the servants that were ordained to work for you since 
 the foundation of the world, or else you would not be delv- 
 ing in the ditches and drudging with your hands, instead of 
 letting your brains grow, that you may direct us. What do 
 you mean by letting little children toil in your miserable 
 factories, and become dwarfed in body and soul, when here 
 am I, and a hundred other giants like myself, any one of 
 whom could do the work of ten thousand of those babies, 
 and never feel it — and you give us no work to do ?" 
 
 " You are a kind-hearted old genie, I am sure," said the 
 boy ; " and, if I live, my work shall be to introduce you to 
 the acquaintance of men. But tell me something of your 
 history. Where have you been all these years, that no one 
 has found you out ?" 
 
 " Where I am now, and in similar places, though not al- 
 ways so tightly pressed. And, indeed, I have not been idle, 
 though my appetite for work has never been half supplied. 
 I am one of the elder children of the flood, and began my 
 work in the world before your race appeared upon it. Be- 
 fore the rain began her ministry, I arose from my hidden re- 
 treats in the earth, and watered the earliest of gardens. 
 Ever since then I have been carrying on a great system of 
 irrigation; rising from the ocean into the sky, sailing in 
 great fleets laden with treasure toward the mountain-sides 
 where my bounties have been bestowed ; sinking then, in a 
 slightly altered form, into the earth, and visiting the roots 
 of all the trees with supplies of food — creeping up through 
 all their veins and into their broad green leaves, whence I 
 escape into the air again. You see I have had something to 
 do. But all this quiet work is only half enough for me. 
 Work is my nature ; so do not be afraid of overtasking me. 
 I can not have too much." 
 
 K2 
 
226 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Indeed you are a grand old fellow, and I am proud of 
 your acquaintance," cried James. " Now I seem to remem- 
 ber having seen you in April days, or sometimes in August 
 or September, floating in the sky, but I never thought to be- 
 come so much better acquainted with you in my grand- 
 mother's kitchen." 
 
 " James, James ! what are ye doing ?" cried the old lady 
 from her straight-backed chair. " Here ye've done naething 
 a' the day but tilt the cover of the kettle, like a lazy lout 
 that ye be. Gae to your tasks noo, like a mon, and be of 
 some use in the warld." 
 
 " Ah ! grandam," said James, " I have been doing a thou- 
 sand days' work, sitting here by the ingleside." 
 
 "Dinna be fooling, bairn! Dinna be fooling, ye idle 
 dreamer! Wark and ye'll thrive; be lazy and ye'll come 
 to naught." 
 
 Nevertheless, James's dreams came to more use than 
 many another man's work, because he had the faculty of 
 thinking to a purpose ; and, in the many talks he held with 
 the friendly old giant, he learned, one after another, the se- 
 crets of his power. When lessons were over, the giant told 
 wonderful stories to his young disciple ; and perhaps I can 
 repeat one of them in a few words : 
 
 " In old times there was a long-continued contest between 
 the land and the sea. At first the sea had been the mon- 
 arch, and ruled over the whole surface of the globe. At 
 length the land appeared, claiming a large part of his do- 
 main, and this enraged the sea, who beat wrathfully with 
 whole armies of billows upon her shore, and threatened to 
 conquer back all that he had lost. 
 
 "Presently came the children of the land: first, the little 
 grasses, that, tenderly embracing their mother, protected 
 her from being quite carried away by the rude invading sea ; 
 and at length the taller trees, the great pines and oaks, that 
 added greatly to her beauty and glory. . 
 
 11 Then a new thought occurred to the land, and she sent 
 out these her greater children to subdue the sea on his own 
 domains. They rode triumphantly over the billows, and, 
 aided by the friendly winds, plied diligently from place to 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 227* 
 
 place, increasing every where the wealth and glory of their 
 mother. But the sea arose in his wrath, and often ingulfed 
 these faithful children of the land, or broke their bones, and 
 cast them up upon her lap in bitter scorn and defiance. 
 
 " Then the land resolved to take a more exquisite revenge 
 than ever before. And she called forth a mighty spirit from 
 the bosom of the sea himself— a weird, white, gigantic genie, 
 who had been the eldest child of the flood. She gave him 
 an armor of iron scales which the sea could not break, and 
 upon him she laid her spells, and he went obediently to and 
 fro at her bidding. Thus the land was at last triumphant, 
 as organized brain always will be over brute natural force ; 
 and the children of men passed over land and sea in safety 
 toward their goal of perfect knowledge. 
 
 " But part of that is prophecy," said the white giant, 
 when he had finished the story. 
 
 " It shall be fact before many years," said James. " And 
 you, my good giant, are the genie who shall finish the tale." 
 
 Soon swift cars were running to and fro the whole length 
 of the kingdom, propelled by the giant's arms. Soon, too, 
 the tasks of the little children at the factories were done by 
 the same old worker, who could drive a million spindles at 
 a stroke quite as easily as a child could move one ; and if 
 the children were still employed, it was only to keep the gi- 
 ant supplied with work enough, which indeed was no easy 
 task. 
 
 His good-nature was equal to all the tasks which could be 
 imposed upon him. If you have ever seen his white beard 
 rising above the chimney of some factory on a winter morn- 
 ing, or puffing out of the escape-valve of some little tug, 
 you may almost have mistaken him, in the wavy, graceful 
 lines of his white drapery, for a sunny cloud — which, indeed, 
 would not be the greatest of mistakes. 
 
 Before long the great ocean-going ships had the giant es- 
 tablished in their holds, and their ponderous wheels moved 
 by his iron arms, so that, independently of wind or tide, 
 they could hold their course night and day, and, like swiftly- 
 moving shuttles, weave the continents together with bands 
 of neighborly good-will. 
 
228 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 IN SCHOOL DAYS.— From Our Young Folks. 
 
 J. G. Whittiex, 
 Still sits the school-house by the road, 
 
 A ragged beggar sunning ; 
 Around it still the sumachs grow, 
 And blackberry vines are running. 
 
 Within, the master's desk is seen, 
 Deep scarred by raps official ; 
 
 The warping floor, the battered seats, 
 The jack-knife's carved initial; 
 
 The charcoal frescoes on its wall ; 
 
 Its door's worn sill, betraying 
 The feet that, creeping slow to school, 
 
 Went storming out to playing. 
 
 Long years ago a winter sun 
 
 Shone over it at setting, 
 Lit up its western window-panes, 
 
 And low eaves's icy fretting. 
 
 It touched the tangled golden curls, 
 And brown eyes full of grieving, 
 
 Of one who still her steps delayed 
 When all the school were leaving. 
 
 For near her stood the little boy 
 
 Her childish favor singled, 
 His cap pulled low upon a face 
 
 Where pride and shame were mingled* 
 
 Pushing with restless feet the snow 
 To right and left, he lingered ; 
 
 As restlessly her tiny hands 
 
 The blue-checked apron fingered. 
 
 He saw her lift her eyes ; he felt 
 The soft hands light caressing, 
 
 And heard the tremble of her voice, 
 As if a fault confessing. 
 
 "I'm sorry that I spelt the word : 
 I hate to go above you, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 229 
 
 Because" — the brown eyes lower fell — 
 " Because, you see, I love you !" 
 
 Still memory to a gray-haired man 
 
 That sweet child-face is showing. 
 Dear girl ! the grasses on her grave 
 
 Have forty years been growing. 
 
 He lives to learn, in life's hard school, 
 
 How few who pass above him 
 Lament their triumph and his loss, 
 
 Like her — because they love him. 
 
 NEW GOWNS.— From Our Young Folks. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived a beautiful lady, who had 
 the loveliest dresses — such as never were seen before. First, 
 she had a long robe of rich green velvet, embroidered all 
 over with flowers of every color ; its train was decked with 
 silver spangles, and sparkling ribbons of silver flowed from 
 the wide and flashing silver girdle at her waist down to 
 her feet, and here and there masses of feather trimming, of 
 the richest green, decorated the seams and hems, and green 
 plumes waved around her snowy tresses ; for she was old as 
 she was beautiful, showing age alone in these glittering coils 
 of blanched hair. Whenever she moved, the silver girdle, 
 wide as a breastplate, swayed and shimmered about her, and 
 the green plumes bent slowly and gracefully. Nothing, 
 men thought, could be more beautiful than her garment ; 
 but she was a woman, and got very tired of it. Now the 
 lady had two old uncles — Uncle Jack and Uncle Sol ; they 
 did not agree. at all, and, when one refused what she wanted, 
 the other was sure to give it to her. So, when she got wea- 
 ry of her green robe, she told Uncle Sol she wanted a 
 change of raiment. 
 
 "Fy! fy!" said the portly old gentleman, who wore a 
 yellow coat, somewhat spotted, and had fire-red hair ; " how 
 long have you worn that gown, my dear? I know very 
 well, for I gave it to you ; no, indeed. Do you see me get- 
 ting new coats ? The idea is absurd !" 
 
 He turned his face away from her, and she was so angry 
 she ran straight off to find Uncle Jack. 
 
230 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Uncle Jack was a funny old man with keen gray eyes, 
 and his long hair and wavy beard were like drifted snow. 
 All his clothes were white, and trimmed with crystal but- 
 tons, and in his hand he carried a tiny slender spear of crys- 
 tal, on w T hose tip glittered a diamond point, clear and cold 
 as a star; it was an enchanted spear that never broke or 
 wore out, and he could work wonders with it. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Jack !" said the lady, " do give me something 
 new to wear; I am so tired of green and silver !" 
 
 " Why, my ! I think your dress is very fresh and rich yet." 
 
 " That's what Uncle Sol says." 
 
 " Oho ! the gruff old rascal has been denying you what 
 you wanted, has he? I'll see to your dress, my dear !" 
 
 With that, Uncle Jack took up his magic w T and, and light- 
 ly touched the feather trimming and the plumes, and all at 
 once they flashed into the most gorgeous colors — scarlet 
 glowing like coals, yellow as fierce as July sunshine, mass- 
 es of deep gleaming garnet, and spots of dusky purple and 
 light vivid crimson on the trimming, while the plumes 
 waved with here and there a golden spire, or a feather of 
 flame, interspersed with dark velvety green, pallid yellow, 
 or shining brown. 
 
 " There !" said Uncle Jack, " are you satisfied ?" 
 
 The lady looked at her face in one of the broad burnished 
 silver ribbons, and smiled, for she was lovely as a dream ; 
 all the air about her seemed steeped in sunshine, and in her 
 girdle and her sashes the splendid colors floated and flowed 
 like jewels poured out. Uncle Jack laughed to see her so 
 pleased. 
 
 But after a while the velvet gown began to fade and grow 
 threadbare ; its folds and edges showed dull brown ; the 
 embroidery of blossoms, and leaves, and berries, that had 
 strewed it with many a gay wreath and graceful tendril, or 
 starred it with tiny flowers, was all frayed away and fallen 
 off. The silver ribbon still shone, but the robe itself had 
 become a dead brownish-yellow, and the glorious plumes 
 had dropped one little featherling after the other, till of 
 them and of the trimming there was nothing left but bare 
 gray stems and tracery. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 231 
 
 The lady wept bitterly. Uncle Sol had turned the cold 
 shoulder toward her, and she was half afraid of Uncle Jack, 
 he had so lately clothed her in magnificent robes. 
 
 There was, however, no one else to help her, so she called 
 loudly for him, and he came. 
 
 There was a sly smile in his keen gray eye as he looked 
 at the lady. " Rags and tags, hey, madam ? Well for you 
 that Uncle Jack lives within hearing." 
 
 So saying, he passed his wand across her again, and about 
 her shoulders and waist hung trails of exquisite lace of the 
 most delicate tracery and purest whiteness, and a white tis- 
 sue robe fell softly over the worn velvet, and hid it with a 
 sheeny mist. The plumes were covered and tipped with 
 lacework too, and the beautiful lady smiled again to see 
 how delicately fair her robes showed in the morning light. 
 But hardly had she enjoyed their grace and purity for an 
 hour or two when along came the other old uncle. 
 
 " Ho ! ho !" laughed Uncle Sol ; " here you are in another 
 new gown ! In white lace, like a young girl at her wed- 
 ding ! This is too absurd for a woman of your age. I can't 
 allow it !" 
 
 Now Uncle Sol's magic was in his face; if he once looked 
 hard and long at any thing it ran away, and now he stared 
 fixedly at the lovely lace raiment. Horrible to relate, it 
 ran away as he looked in streams of gray shreds, and even 
 drops like tears, till the beautiful lady stood weeping bitter- 
 ly in her old brown gown, and the gray sticks of her feath- 
 ers looking worse for the silver ribbons. 
 
 Now she began to sob and wail ; the plumes, featherless 
 as they were, rustled in her hair like a storm of pitiful whis- 
 pers and sighs, and the silver girdle and breastplate heaved 
 up and down till it grated on her brown robe heavily, and 
 frayed it still more. 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! dear Uncle Jack !" she cried ; " come ! do 
 
 come 
 
 i" 
 
 In he bustled and hustled with a great crackling and 
 whistling, for he was very busy and hard at work. Up went 
 both his withered hands in surprise. 
 
 " What a sight to behold ! all that lace gone ! My dear 3 
 
232 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 you cost too much ; you are so tall and large, one needs 
 stores as broad and deep as the sky to clothe you !" 
 
 The lady drew herself up and looked at Uncle Jack. 
 Now, indeed, she was a piteous sight ; all her fair face and 
 dingy robe marred with tears and shreds, her beauty worn 
 with grief and rage, and her broad shoulders wearing no 
 trace of their late filmy covering. 
 
 " Look at me, Uncle Jack !" 
 
 That was enough. 
 
 " Poor child ! poor child !" said he, pitifully. " I will give 
 you a garment that Uncle Sol may stare at as much as he 
 likes, but it will take a long while to make it." 
 
 So off went Uncle Jack into upper air, and borrowed of 
 the sprites, who prepare wool and crystal in those high 
 dwellings, their most spotless and heavy fleeces. These he 
 floated softly down upon the beautiful lady till they rested 
 upon her brown mantle and covered it completely, hiding 
 even the holes about her sides and elbows ; then he waved 
 his wand till the stainless wool grew into a lovely robe, so 
 white and sparkling that, if one but looked upon it, the wa- 
 ter would stand in his eyes. Another touch of the diamond- 
 tipped spear, and the silver ribbons turned to polished steel; 
 steel bound the girdle and breastplate with a broad bright 
 edge. The lady was more splendid than ever ; one thing 
 alone was wanting — a new set of plumes. 
 
 " Whew ! whew !" said Uncle Jack ; " must I travel up 
 stairs again ?" and off he went to borrow dew-crystal of the 
 sprites who had already lent him wool; they were kindly 
 sprites indeed, for they showered the bright, clear drops he 
 wanted all over the feather trimming, and the plumes also, 
 and, as they clung to the delicate stems and tendrils, Uncle 
 Jack pointed his spear-tip at them, and they changed to dia- 
 monds. How they sparkled, and danced, and shone ! how 
 « every sigh that fluttered about made the myriad rainbows 
 thrill and quiver ! how blinding was the blaze of their splen- 
 dor ! how glorious the lady in her jewels and her brilliant 
 robe ! She looked as a queen might, adorned for her bridal, 
 and from her clear bright girdle and ribbons shone back al] 
 the stars of heaven. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 233 
 
 " There !" said Uncle Jack ; " I think I have done well for 
 you ; you can defy Uncle Sol now as to the gown. I won't 
 answer for the diamonds — he hates jewelry ; but don't come 
 screaming after me again for a long time, my lady ! I have 
 business on hand ;" and off he went. 
 
 The beautiful lady smiled, and all the wonderful brilliants 
 about her rustled, and flashed, and blazed for joy. Poor 
 lady ! it was but the very next morning Uncle Sol looked 
 at her over his shoulder. " Ridiculous old creature!" growl- 
 ed he. "Zknow when she was born, if nobody else does; and 
 for a person whose years are more than she likes to make, 
 known to be wearing jewelry, and such jewelry, is enough 
 to make one laugh. No, never can I allow it !" 
 
 So saying, he stared at the diamonds with all his might 
 and main. How they burned under his gaze ! how every 
 tiny speck shot out a blaze of anger and splendor ! Their 
 glory was blinding, but it was brief. Presently they began 
 to drop from the plumy stems — tinkle, tinkle, tinkle ! faster 
 and faster, with a sweet and bright sound like the ring of 
 fairy sleigh-bells, or the laugh of fairy babies, down they 
 showered, tumbling on the beautiful lady's shoulders, over 
 her steel, ribbons, and on her beaming girdle and breast- 
 plate — tinkle, tinkle, tinkle ! ringing their tiny peals of deli- 
 cate music, and glittering where they fell. Alas ! in a mo- 
 ment more they were but tears. 
 
 Uncle Jack no longer listened to the lady's calls; her 
 jewels were gone, and who could replace them ? She wore 
 the stainless robe without ornaments save the steel and 
 steel-bound silver of her ribbons and girdle ; and, being 
 careless, in a few months the white garments gathered stains 
 and grew threadbare, and was no longer fair to see. 
 
 Then she bethought herself of Uncle Sol, who had ceased 
 turning his face away from her, and made friends with him 
 once more, so that he again clothed her with soft and fresh 
 green garments, with newer and even more exquisite trailing 
 embroideries and misty green trimmings ; he renewed her 
 graceful plumes, and changed ribbons and girdle to shin- 
 ing silver once more. So it came to pass that the beautiful 
 lady was never at a loss for robes between the two old 
 
234 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 uncles. And so it hath been, and shall be whiie the world 
 endures. 
 
 Ah ! if only I had an Uncle Jack and an Uncle Sol, I 
 should never again say I had nothing to wear, and sigh over 
 my lack of gowns. 
 
 LECTURE ON HEAT.— From Our Young Folks. 
 
 BY MY LORD HIGH FIDDLESTICK. 
 
 "His name is Force," squeaked the little traveler; "but, 
 for the sort of person that he is, I can not say, your royal 
 highness, seeing that he is sometimes as great as a giant, 
 and at others as fine as a thread; only that he is the worst- 
 used and best-natured individual in your majesty's domin- 
 ions; for there is not a ship or a house, a road or a gar- 
 den made, or a dinner got, or so much as a cup of water 
 drawn, without his help. He is wanted to do every thing 
 every minute of the day all over the earth, and he does it 
 without grumbling ; and now, mark how he is paid ! Ev- 
 ery time that he gives any body a neighborly lift, from saw* 
 ing a stick of wood to dragging a train, he disappears. He 
 is destroyed. All day long he is smashed, blown up, choked, 
 your royal highness, under your royal highness's very nose 
 — under every body's nose— made away with, done for, mur- 
 dered, used up, in a hundred thousand places all at once, 
 by Christians and heathens all alike — which your majesty 
 will see is quite improper. For if it is so very bad to choke, 
 blow up, and murder a man once, how much worse to do 
 all these things to a person all the time ! and if your high- 
 ness would protect even a thief from such abuse, how is it 
 that there is nobody to say a word for poor Force, who wags 
 your very heads for you ? and whose blame is it ?" 
 
 When the little traveler said " Whose blame is it ?" he 
 looked hard at the king. The king was quite thrown out 
 of countenance — for here was a very bad case, you see, made 
 out against somebody — and he looked severely at the Lord 
 High Fiddlestick, because it was understood that, when any 
 thing happened to be right, the credit was due to the king ; 
 but, when any thing was wrong, the blame fell to my Lord 
 High Fiddlestick. As the king looked severe, the courtiers 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 235 
 
 looked severe also, and as if— Come, now, this was really 
 too bad, and a little the worst thing they had heard yet about 
 my Lord High Fiddlestick. But my Lord High Fiddlestick 
 only crossed his pink slippers comfortably one over the oth- 
 er, and said, 
 
 " Your majesty, there is no one to blame here. The gen* 
 tleman is quite right and entirely wrong." 
 
 The little traveler jumped up. He was wrapped from 
 head to heels in a large overcoat full of pockets. Out of 
 one pocket he took a bit of iron and a hammer. He laid the 
 iron on the table, and pounded it with the hammer. 
 
 " There !" he said ; " Force did that ; but now where has 
 he gone, my Lord High Fiddlestick ?" Then he pulled at 
 his mustache, and stamped his foot, and got out a saw and 
 a piece of wood, and had off an end of the wood before you 
 could wink. "Force did that too," said the little traveler; 
 " but, if he did not die in doing it, can you tell where he is 
 now, my Lord High Fiddlestick ?" Then he drew out a pis- 
 tol, and, aiming at the third leg of the king's extension ta- 
 ble, sent a bullet at it as savagely as if it had been the Lord 
 High Fiddlestick himself. 
 
 " Force did that too," screamed the queer, angry little 
 man, " and now where is he ? I am not to be put off with a 
 riddle about being quite right and entirely wrong. If he is 
 dead, as you are to blame for whatever happens in this coun- 
 try, you ought to be hung at once ; and if he is not dead, I 
 will trouble you to show him to*me." 
 
 " Good Mr. Traveler," answered my Lord High Fiddle- 
 stick, picking up the saw, " will you feel of that ? It is cold, 
 is it not ? and the wood — that is cold too. Well, now, sup- 
 pose you saw us off another bit of wood. Thank you. Feel 
 now of the wood. Is it cold, just as it was before? No? 
 You mean to say that it is warmer ? Touch the saw. That 
 is warmer too. Very good. Here are your iron and your 
 hammer. Will your majesty touch them? You see they 
 are cold enough. Now, my friend, favor us with a little 
 more of that lively pounding which you say your friend 
 Force died to do. How are your iron and hammer ? I de- 
 clare ! — feel, your majesty — they are both warm. Now for 
 
236 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 the pistol. Here is a target — but stop ! feel the bullet. It 
 is cold, of course. Fire away ! Very good ! But the bul- 
 let ! feel it, Mr. Traveler. Your majesty perceives that it is 
 quite hot — this bullet, which was cold a moment ago !" 
 
 "What if it is?" growled the traveler. 
 
 My Lord High Fiddlestick put his hands in the pockets of 
 his green satin gown and laughed. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Traveler, you have not learned all the old tricks 
 of your friend Force. Just now he pounded a cold bit of 
 iron with a cold hammer. Then he was gone, nowhere to 
 be seen — dead, you said ; but you found heat in the iron and 
 the hammer. You sawed a cold piece of wood with a cold 
 saw. That done— whisk ! Force was lost ; but there was 
 heat in the wood and saw. You fired your cold bullet at a 
 cold target. Off went force, but there was heat again in 
 the bullet. Whenever you lose force you find heat. What 
 does that mean ? You say that Force is sometimes a giant. 
 Did it ever occur to you that he may be a giant with two 
 heads under his hood ? Let us follow this giant a little far- 
 ther. He is pulling a train at the rate of thirty miles an 
 hour. You put on the brakes, the train stops. Force is 
 gone from the engine, but what do you find at the wheels, 
 where the brake rubbed on them ? Why, so much heat that 
 you see fire and sparks ; and the engine-driver sends a man 
 to rub grease on the wheels of the train. Why ? Because, 
 if the wheels turn around with difficulty, the engine can not 
 pull the train so fast ; Force, who should give all his atten- 
 tion to urge the engine, must give a part of his strength to 
 the wheels ; and just as much as he gives to the wheels, just 
 so much is lost to the engine." 
 
 " As if every school-boy did not know that !" growled the 
 little traveler. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said my Lord High Fiddlestick. "You 
 say every school-boy knows that ; but, when Force goes to 
 the wheels, what shape does he take ? He is there turning 
 the wheels in spite of themselves, and the engine is missing 
 him, and these ungreased wheels show that he is there. 
 How? By their heat. You miss Force from the engine. 
 The last time he was seen he was ^oins: to the unsrreased 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 237 
 
 wheels. You go to the wheels. You see no Force there, 
 but a stranger ; but if it is the giant Force that you have 
 lost from the engine, this stranger will be a giant ; if Force 
 is at his pigmy tricks, the stranger will be a dwarf; and, in 
 either case, he will tell you his name is Heat. While you 
 are staring at him, you observe something familiar about 
 him, and you say, * Pray, Mr. Heat, have I not seen you be- 
 fore somewhere about the engine? You are the fireman, per- 
 haps !' ' Exactly,' answers Heat. * I was in the fire under 
 the boiler.' Under the boiler ! Why, that is where our lost 
 Force came from. Put it all together. You put heat under 
 the boiler, and force comes out and pulls the train. You 
 miss Force, and, when you go to look for him, you find Heat 
 in his place. Is it not reasonable, good Mr. Traveler, to 
 think that, as Heat can turn into Force, Force can turn back 
 into Heat again ?" 
 
 "Your royal highness," cried the little traveler, jumping 
 up in a great rage, " I hope your royal highness won't listen 
 to such stuff* as this. Heat a person, indeed ! Heat is a 
 fluid, and it is called caloric. I see my Lord High Fiddle- 
 stick is laughing, but he won't laugh long. Here is the 
 dictionary, and the word in it to prove what I say; and 
 the ungreased wheels were hot because they turned so 
 hard that some of their caloric was squeezed out of them ; 
 and when the hammer came down hard on the iron, some 
 of the caloric was squeezed out of that, and all the old phi- 
 losophers say so ; and, if you want us to believe that force 
 is not burned in the fire, and blown off* from the engine, and 
 crushed under the wheels, but is turned into heat, you must 
 make us swallow the dictionary and the old philosophers 
 first." 
 
 " I see I must tell you a little story," answered my Lord 
 High Fiddlestick, gently. "As my friend Count Rumford 
 and your friend Force were one day boring a cannon, Count 
 Rumford tried to pick up some of the brass chips that Force 
 had just cut off, and discovered that they were hotter than 
 boiling water. Brass is not generally hotter than boiling 
 water. Before we go farther, perhaps you will tell us, Mr. 
 Traveler, what had happened to these chips." 
 
238 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Why, the boring had squeezed so much caloric fluid into 
 these chips," answered the traveler. 
 
 "Then, of course," said my Lord High Fiddlestick, "if 
 the brass chips held so much more heat-fluid than they ever 
 held before, they must be altered in some way. If you were 
 going to put say a quart of heat-fluid in chips that only 
 held a pint before, you must alter your chips. But Count 
 Rumford found that the chips were not altered ; that is, if 
 you are right, Mr. Traveler, a pint could hold a quart ; and 
 he thought that w r as tougher to swallow than the old phi- 
 losophers. So he took a hollow tube of brass called a cylin- 
 der. In it he put a flat piece of hard steel. The steel w 7 as 
 almost as large as the cylinder, so that it could just turn 
 around the steel. He put the cylinder in a box filled with 
 water. A horse was made to turn the cylinder round and 
 round. The piece of steel rubbed hard all the time on the 
 bottom of the brass cylinder. The brass grew warm and 
 the water grew w r arm. Count Rumford and a great many 
 people stood watching it curiously. The cylinder turned 
 and turned, all the time growing hotter. The water all the 
 time grew hotter too ; and, at the end of two hours and a 
 half, the water was so hot that it boiled. Now, Mr. Travel- 
 er, what makes water boil ?" 
 
 " Heat," answered the little man, sulkily. 
 
 " Well, there was no heat here," cried my Lord High Fid- 
 dlestick — " only force ; and force made the water boil. 
 Own up, Mr. Traveler. It begins to look as if Heat and 
 Force were the same person." 
 
 "I shall not own any thing of the sort," answered the lit- 
 tle man. " Pray, my Lord High Fiddlestick," catching up 
 the hammer and bringing it down hard on the iron, " how 
 did force turn into heat then ?" 
 
 "This iron," said my lord, "is made of what we call 
 atoms — tiny particles too small to be seen separately." 
 
 " Bosh !" snorted the traveler. 
 
 " These atoms," said the Lord High Fiddlestick, " are held 
 fast together by a liking they have for each other — an at- 
 traction that we call cohesion. Force strikes this iron with 
 the weight of the hammer. He jars the iron ; he jars, he 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 239 
 
 stirs the atoms ; they can stir, although their band of cohe- 
 sion holds them so close that they look as- if they were stuck 
 tight together. The hammer is down. You would say 
 Force is dead. I say he has gone in among those atoms ; he 
 is carrying on the stir and jar from one atom to the other. 
 ' Stop !' says Cohesion, trying to hold them fast. ' Go on V 
 cries Force. The atoms of iron can not get away from one 
 another, but they can move. Force makes them move and 
 struggle. When you struggle you get warm. When the 
 atoms of iron struggle, they make what my friend, Lord Ba- 
 con, calls the fire and fury of heat. They actually get far- 
 ther away from each other; and this is why philosophers 
 will tell you that heat makes a body larger. 
 
 " This hard, solid iron is actually a little larger than when 
 it was cool, because the atoms have succeeded in getting far- 
 ther from each other. Now all the king's horses, and all the 
 king's men, if you could set them to tug on each side of this 
 little bit of iron, have not strength to do that. It required a 
 great force, stronger than all the king's horses and men. But 
 who did pull the atoms ? Heat. Then heat is force, or per- 
 haps I should say motion ; for, when we struck this iron with 
 the hammer, and it became warmer, what had happened re- 
 ally ? Why, the motion of the arm and hammer that struck 
 it went in among the atoms of iron> and they moved and 
 pulled a little way from each other. What we call Heat was 
 really their motion ; and so — " 
 
 "Stuff!" interrupted the traveler. "When a man comes 
 down to atoms, he must be hard up for proofs." 
 
 " Comes down to atoms !" exclaimed my Lord High Fid- 
 dlestick, opening a window. Outside, the sill was covered 
 with fresh-fallen snow, which my Lord High Fiddlestick 
 scraped up in his hands. "Can any thing be softer than 
 this snow?" he asked. "Well, the pull and strain that 
 brought the water-atoms together to make such snow as I 
 hold here, would pitch a ton of stone over a precipice two 
 thousand feet deep. Come down to atoms, indeed ! Pray, 
 let me show you a few of the things that atoms can do." 
 
 "My lord," interrupted the king, in a hurry, "I observe 
 that dinner is ready, and the beefsteak on the table. If the 
 
240 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 steak gets cold, according to your philosophy, it will grow 
 smaller, and then f perhaps, there will not be enough to go 
 round. Let us go to dinner, and hear what the atoms can 
 do another time, my Lord High Fiddlestick." 
 
 BIRDS AND THEIR WAYS.— From the Little Corporal. 
 
 About the second week of March, here in Northern Illi- 
 nois, I hear somebody singing up in the air, " Ka-wet ! ka- 
 wet !" His back is as blue as the violets, and his breast looks 
 as red and warm as a little red cloud at sunrise. 
 
 The trees are bare, the grass is dry, and Bluebird's voice 
 is a little sad at first, but by the middle of April he is all 
 over it, for he takes him a mate ; then he is very busy try- 
 ing to find a place for the nest that is to hold the wee ones. 
 
 One day I saw a pair of bluebirds sitting on the stakes of 
 a rail fence. Bluebird flew down to a hole in one of the 
 rails ; he went in, examined its sides with his black bill, 
 turned around in it, then, flying up to the top of a stake, 
 warbled " Ka-wet ! que-we-o-it !" — my dear, come look at 
 it. Mrs. Bluebird answered u Ka-wet!" — yes, dear. They 
 examined and consulted a long time, but it would not do to 
 put their nest there ; the room w r as too small, and the roof 
 very poor. I saw them there no more. The mates some- 
 times choose a hole in a tree, where a busy woodpecker once 
 made his nest. They carry in grass, w r ool, and feathers, and 
 arrange a soft, warm nest. The female lays, from four to six 
 pale blue eggs. Two broods a year are raised. Bluebirds 
 live upon worms, beetles, and other insects that would de- 
 stroy our fruit and gardens. 
 
 Generally, within two weeks from the time I first hear the 
 plaintive salutation of the bluebird, a chorus of spring voices 
 are in my ear. The red-winged blackbirds are chatting in 
 the tree-tops; the crow blackbird throws in an occasional 
 note of reproof; the meadow-lark sings " E-chee-a-chirp-pa" 
 in the richest of voices ; the snowbird trills in the hazel 
 bush ; the wild ducks are quacking on the streams ; the soft 
 piping of the nuthatch sounds from the woods ; the belted 
 kingfisher darts chattering by, and the plover flies over, cry- 
 ing sharply " Kill-deer ! kill-deer !" 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 241 
 
 But whose voice is this I hear a few days before the com- 
 ing of April? He calls from the trees, just at evening, 
 " Quit ! quit! quit !" The night is cold and frosty, but with 
 the early morning light a rich bugle-voice breaks out in 
 " Ka-i-a ka-e-ore quit ! cho-wo que-we que-wit ! tka-a-ru ka- 
 we-wa ka-we-wa tkeep !" Robin knows how to sing. I once 
 heard four singing in one bur-oak at a time. 
 
 Look at Robin when he is on the ground. He gives a 
 hop or two, then runs a few feet straight forward in a very 
 careless way. He stops, turning one eye up as if he needed 
 to keep watch of the weather, while with the other he looks 
 sharply at the ground. Now he finds a bug or grub, now 
 a May-beetle, and a little farther on he pulls up a cut-worm. 
 He is very useful, for he eats up some of the worst enemies 
 of the fruit and grain. 
 
 The first day of last May, as I passed a thorn-tree, a bright 
 eye peered from behind a branch. A moment after, two 
 brown wings were spread, and away went Mrs. Robin. 
 Robin himself sat near by, on a crab-apple-tree, jerking his 
 tail, and eying me anxiously. Here was a nest with four 
 blue eggs. 
 
 Soon the bluejays became too inquisitive, and I often saw 
 Robin dart out bravely and drive them off. After a few 
 days I found the nest deserted, one egg gone, and the rest 
 cold. I am afraid Bluejay took that egg. 
 
 But the robins were not discouraged. They built another 
 nest on the branch of a bur-oak a short distance from the 
 first nest. They left this one also, and without using it 
 at all. 
 
 A third nest was made in a black oak, whose boughs 
 touch our house. Mrs. Robin constructed it chiefly of dried 
 grass, and plastered the inside with mud. When the mud 
 was dry, she lined it smoothly with fine soft grass, and the 
 nest was ready for use. 
 
 The eggs were laid, and for about two weeks patient Mrs. 
 Robin kept them warm under her red breast. The sweet 
 June days came, and the wild roses showed their bright 
 buds. Robin, meantime, sang his richest songs on the 
 boughs near by. He became almost as tame as a chicken, 
 
 L 
 
242 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 hopping around us when we were out of doors, and singing, 
 with his bill just apart, quaint little strains that could hard- 
 ly be heard. The robin does not open his bill so widely as 
 some little birds, if he sings ever so loud and clear. 
 
 One day I saw Mrs. Robin standing on the side of the 
 nest. She peered into it, and put her bill down one, two, 
 three times. Just then her mate alighted near by, with his 
 beak full of worms and soft insects. The young birds were 
 out of the shells, and the mother was feeding them. What 
 funny babies they were, with only a small number of curious 
 feathers, looking just like the little plumes you have seen 
 on some seeds floating about in the air. At the least sound 
 their hungry bills would fly open, as if they expected that 
 it was going to rain worms. Robin did not get much time 
 to sing then, for they kept him as busy as a bee. In less 
 than two weeks they were pretty well feathered out, and 
 their tails an inch and a half long. 
 
 Then there was a time of wild excitement in the oak. The 
 old birds called loudly, and the young ones answered " Pe- 
 ip?" — I fly! The little robins found out then what their 
 wings were made for. For a day or two they staid quietly 
 in the trees, and their parents carried them food. Then they 
 hopped on the ground after Mr. and Mrs. Robin. 
 
 About this time Mrs. Robin left her husband to provide 
 for all three youngsters, and went oif somewhere. Some- 
 times they tried to feed themselves. One would think he 
 saw a worm on the ground, and, putting down his head, 
 would nearly fall over trying to get it. I saw them pick up 
 little sticks, and drop them. In. less than three weeks from 
 the time they left the nest they looked as large as Robin, 
 and he thought them big enough to get their own living. 
 They were very handsome, but they did not look just like 
 the old robins. Their backs had a great many little black 
 and white streaks, and the red of their breasts was full of 
 black spots. 
 
 Robin still gathered worms, but he would not give them 
 to these young ones. I followed him, and found Mrs. Robin, 
 with another brood of little birds, in the very nest that was 
 built on the branch of the bur-oak after the first one was 
 broken up. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 243 
 
 HANDY ANDY. 
 
 Samuel Lover. 
 
 Scene First. The Dining-room. 
 
 The first time Andy was admitted into the mysteries of 
 the dining-room, great was his wonder. The butler took 
 him in to give him some previous instructions, and Andy 
 was so lost in admiration at the sight of the assembled glass 
 and plate that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide open, 
 and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the 
 head man had been dinning his instructions into him for 
 some time, he said he might go until his attendance was re- 
 quired. But Andy moved not ; he stood with his eyes fixed 
 by a sort of fascination on some object, that seemed to rivet 
 them with the same unaccountable influence which the rat- 
 tlesnake exercises over its victim. 
 
 " What are you looking at ?" said the butler. 
 
 "Them things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some silver 
 forks. 
 
 " Is it the forks ?" said the butler. 
 
 " Oh no, sir. I know what forks is very well ; but I have 
 never seen them things afore." 
 
 " What things do you mean ?" 
 
 " These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the sil- 
 ver forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in ut- 
 ter astonishment, while the butler grinned at his ignorance, 
 and enjoyed his own superior knowledge. 
 
 " Well !" said Andy, after a long pause, " evil be from me 
 if ever I seen a silver spoon split that way before." 
 
 The butler laughed a horse-laugh, and made a standing 
 joke of Andy's split spoon; but time and experience made 
 Andy less impressed with wonder at the show of plate and 
 glass, and the split spoons became familiar as "household 
 words" to him ; yet still there were things in the duties of 
 table attendance beyond Andy's comprehension : he used 
 to hand cold plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, etc. But 
 "one day," as Zanga says, "one day" he was thrown off his 
 centre in a remarkable degree by a bottle of soda-water. 
 
 It was when that combustible was first introduced into 
 
244 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Ireland as a dinner beverage that the occurrence took place, 
 and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentle- 
 man applied for some soda-water. 
 
 "Sir?" said Andy. 
 
 " Soda - water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in 
 which people are apt to make known their wants at a din- 
 ner-table. 
 
 Andy went to the butler. " Mr. Morgan, there's a gintle- 
 man — " 
 
 " Let me alone, will you ?" said Mr. Morgan. 
 
 Andy manoeuvred round him a little longer, and again 
 essayed to be heard. 
 
 "Mr. Morgan!" 
 
 " Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be ? Can't you do 
 it yourself?" 
 
 " I dunno what he wants." 
 
 " Well, go and ax him," said Mr. Morgan. 
 
 Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the 
 thirsty gentleman's chair with "I beg your pardon, sir." 
 
 " Well !" said the gentleman. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but what's that you axed me for?" 
 
 " Soda-water." 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 " Soda-water ; but perhaps you have not any." 
 
 " Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir. Would you like it 
 hot, sir?" 
 
 The gentleman laughed, and, supposing the new fashion 
 was not understood in the present company, said, " Never 
 mind." 
 
 But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied, and 
 again applied to Mr. Morgan. 
 
 "Sir," said he. 
 
 "Bad luck to you ! can't you let me alone ?" 
 
 " There's a gintleman wants some soap and wather." 
 
 "Somewhat?" 
 
 " Soap and wather, sir." 
 
 " Bother take you ! soda-wather, you mane. You'll get it 
 under the sideboard." 
 
 " Is it in the can, sir ?" 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 245 
 
 "The curse of Crum'li on you ! in the bottles." 
 
 "Is this it, sir?" said Andy, producing a bottle of ale. 
 
 " No, bad 'cess to you ! the little bottles." 
 
 "Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?" 
 
 " I wish you were in the bottom of the say !" said Mr. Mor- 
 gan, who was fuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face 
 with a napkin, as he was hurrying to all quarters of the room, 
 or, as Andy said, in praising his activity, that he was u like 
 bad luck, every where." 
 
 " There they are," said Morgan at last. 
 
 "Oh! them bottles that won't stand," said Andy; "sure 
 them's what I said, with no bottoms to them. How'll I 
 open it ? it's tied down." 
 
 " Cut the cord, you booby !" 
 
 Andy did as he was desired ; and he happened at the 
 same time to hold the bottle of soda-water on a level with 
 ' the candles that shed light over the festive board from a 
 large silver branch, and the moment he made the incision, 
 bang went the bottle of soda, knocking out two of the lights 
 with the projected cork, which, performing its parabola the 
 length of the room, struck the squire himself in the eye at 
 the end of the table, while the hostess at the head had a cold 
 bath down her back. Andy, when he saw the soda-water 
 jumping out of the bottle, held it from him at arm's length, 
 every fizz it made exclaiming u Ow ! ow ! ow !" and at last, 
 when the bottle was empty, he roared out, " Oh Lord ! it's 
 all gone." 
 
 Great was the commotion ; few could resist laughter ex- 
 cept the ladies, who all looked at their gowns, not liking the 
 mixture of satin and soda-water. The extinguished candles 
 were relighted, the squire got his eye open again, and the 
 next time he perceived the butler sufficiently near to speak 
 to him, he said, in a low and hurried tone of deep anger, 
 while he knit his brow, "Send that fellow out of the room;" 
 but within the same minute resumed the former smile, that 
 beamed on all around as if nothing had happened. 
 
246 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Scene Second. The Post-office. 
 
 " Ride into town and see if there's a letter for me," said 
 the squire one day to our hero. 
 
 "Yis, sir." 
 
 " You know where to go ?" 
 
 "To the town, sir." 
 
 " But do you know where to go in the town ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "And why don't you ask, you stupid thief?" 
 
 " Sure, I'd find out, sir." 
 
 "Didn't I often tell you what you're to do when you 
 don't know ?" 
 
 "Yis,sir." 
 
 " And why don't you ?" 
 
 " I don't like to be throublesome, sir." 
 
 " Confound you !" said the squire ; though he could not 
 help laughing at Andy's excuse for remaining in ignorance, 
 
 " Well," continued he, " go to the post-office. You know 
 the post-office, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yis, sir ; where they sell gunpowdher." 
 
 "You're right for once," said the squire; for his majesty's 1 
 post-master was the person who had the privilege of dealing 
 in the aforesaid combustible. " Go, their, to the post-office, 
 and ask for a letter for me. Remember, not gunpowder, but 
 a letter." 
 
 " Yis, sir," said Andy, who got astride of his hack, and 
 trotted away to the post-office. On arriving at the shop of 
 the post-master (for that person carried on a brisk trade in 
 groceries, gimlets, broadcloth, and linen-drapery), Andy pre- 
 sented himself at the counter and said, 
 
 " I want a letther, sir, if you plaze." 
 
 " Who do you want it for ?" sftid the post-master, in a tone 
 which Andy considered an aggression upon the sacredness 
 of private life ; so Andy thought the coolest contempt he 
 could throw upon the prying impertinence of the post-mas- 
 ter was to repeat his question. 
 
 "I want a letther, sir, if you plaze." 
 
 "And who do you want it for?" repeated the post-master. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 24 7 
 
 "What's that to you?" said Andy. 
 
 The post-master laughed at his simplicity, and told him he 
 could not tell what letter to give him unless he told him the 
 direction. 
 
 " The directions I got was to get a letther here — that's the 
 directions." 
 
 "Who gave you those directions?" 
 
 " The masther." 
 
 "And who's your master?" 
 
 "What consarn is that o' yours ?" 
 
 " Why, you stupid rascal, if you don't tell me his name, 
 how can I give you a letter ?" 
 
 " You could give it if you liked ; but you're fond of axin' 
 impident questions, bekase you think I'm simple." 
 
 " Go along out o' this ! Your master must be as great a 
 goose as yourself, to send such a messenger." 
 
 " Bad luck to your impidence ! is it Squire Egan you dar 
 to say goose to ?" 
 
 " Oh, Squire Egan's your master, then ?" 
 
 " Yis ; have you any thing to say agin it ?" 
 
 " Only that I never saw you before." 
 
 "Faith, then you'll never see me agin, if I have my own 
 consint." 
 
 " I won't give you any letter for the squire, unless I know 
 you're his servant. Is there any one in the town knows 
 you?" 
 
 " Plenty," said Andy ; " it's not every one is as ignorant as 
 you." 
 
 Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was known 
 entered the house, who vouched to the post-master that he 
 might give Andy the squire's letter. "Have you one for 
 me"?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the post-master, producing one; "four- 
 pence." 
 
 The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, and left the 
 shop with his letter. 
 
 "Here's a letter for the squire," said the post-master; 
 * you've to pay me elevenpence postage." 
 
 " What 'ud I pay elevenpence for ?" 
 
248 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 "For postage." 
 
 " Saint Pathrick ! Didn't I see you give Mr. Durfy a let- 
 ther for fourpence this minnit, and a bigger letther than 
 this? and now you want me to pay elevenpence for this 
 scrap of a thing ! Do you think I'm a fool ?" 
 
 " No, but I'm sure of it," said the post-master. 
 
 "Well, you're welkim to be sure, sure; but don't be delay- 
 in' me now ; here's fourpence for you, and gi' me the letther." 
 
 " Go along, you stupid thief!" said the post-master, taking 
 up the letter, and going to serve a customer with a mouse- 
 trap. 
 
 While this person and many others were served, Andy 
 lounged up and down the shop, every now and then putting 
 in his head in the middle of the customers, and saying, " Will 
 you gi' me the letther ?" 
 
 The squire in the mean time was getting impatient for his 
 return, and, when Andy made his appearance, asked if there 
 was a letter for him. 
 
 " There is, sir," said Andy. 
 
 " Then give it to me." 
 
 " I haven't it, sir." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " He wouldn't give it to me, sir." 
 
 " Who wouldn't give it to you ?" 
 
 " The owld chate beyant in the town — wanting to charge 
 double for it." 
 
 " Maybe it's a double letter. Why didn't you pay what 
 he asked, sir?" 
 
 " Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated ? It's not a 
 double letther at all ; not above half the size o' one Mr. Dur- 
 fy got before my face for fourpence." 
 
 "You'll provoke me to break your neck some day, you 
 vagabond. Ride back for your life, you omadhound, and 
 pay whatever he asks, and get me the letter." 
 
 " Why, sir, I tell you he was sellin' them before my face 
 for fourpence a piece." 
 
 " Go back, you scoundrel, or I'll horsewhip you ; and if 
 you're longer than an hour I'll have you ducked in the horse- 
 pond." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 249 
 
 Andy vanished, and made a second visit to the post-office. 
 When he arrived two other persons were getting letters, and 
 the post-master was selecting the epistles for each from a 
 large parcel that lay before him on the counter ; at the same 
 time many shop-customers were waiting to be served. 
 
 " I'm come for that letther," said Andy. 
 
 " I'll attend to you by-and-by." 
 
 u The masther's in a hurry." 
 
 " Let him wait till his hurry's over." 
 
 "He'll murther me if I'm not back soon. 
 
 u I'm glad to hear it." 
 
 While the post-master went on with such provoking an- 
 swers to these appeals for dispatch, Andy's eye caught the 
 heap of letters which lay on the counter ; so, while certain 
 weighing of soap and tobacco was going forward, he con- 
 trived to become possessed of two letters from the heap ; 
 having effected that, he waited patiently enough till it was 
 the great man's pleasure to give him the missive directed to 
 his master. 
 
 Then did Andy bestride his hack, and, in triumph at his 
 trick on the post-master, rattle along the road homeward as 
 fast as the beast could carry him. 
 
 He came into the squire's presence, his face beaming with 
 delight, and an air of self-satisfied superiority in his manner 
 quite unaccountable to his master until he pulled forth his 
 hand, which had been grubbing up his prizes from the bot- 
 tom of his pocket, and, holding three letters over his head, 
 while he said, " Look at that !" he next slapped them down 
 under his broad fist on the table before the squire, saying, 
 
 " Well, if he did make me pay elevenpence, by gor, I 
 brought your honor the worth o' your money, any how !" 
 
 SCHOOL. — From Merry s Museum. 
 
 BEFORE SCHOOL. 
 
 " Quarter of nine ! Boys and girls, do you hear ?" 
 " One more buckwheat, then ; be quick, mother dear." 
 " Where is my luncheon-box ?" " Under the shelf, 
 Just in the place where you left it yourself." 
 
 L2 
 
250 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " I can't say my table !" " Oh, find me my cap !" 
 
 " One kiss for mamma, and sweet sis in her lap." 
 
 " Be good, dear." "I'll try." " Nine times nine's eighty-one." 
 
 " Take your mittens !" "All right." " Hurry up, Bill ; let's 
 
 run." 
 With a slam of the door, they are off, girls and boys, 
 And the mother draws breath in the lull of the noise. 
 
 AFTEll SCHOOL. 
 
 " Don't wake up the baby ! Come gently, my dear." 
 " Oh, mother ! I've torn my new dress ; just look here ! 
 I'm sorry ; I only was climbing the wall." 
 " Oh, mother ! my map was the nicest of all !" 
 "And Nelly, in spelling, went up to the head !" 
 " Oh, say ! can I go on the hill with my sled ?" 
 " I've got such a toothache !" " The teacher's unfair !" 
 " Is dinner most ready ? I'm just like a bear !" 
 
 Be patient, worn mother, they're growing up fast; 
 These nursery whirlwinds, not long do they last ; 
 A still, lonely house would be far worse than noise — 
 Rejoice and be glad in your brave girls and boys. 
 
 
 SECOND LECTURE ON HEAT. 
 
 BY MY LORD HIGH FIDDLESTICK. 
 
 The king, the court, and the little traveler were assembled 
 to hear what atoms can do. The king looked very serious : 
 he was thinking that atoms were a bore, but that it was his 
 duty to encourage them. The courtiers looked very serious 
 too: they were thinking, each one, that, if he was king, he 
 would have any body hung that dared to talk about atoms. 
 A table stood before the Lord High Fiddlestick ; on the ta- 
 ble stood a copper basin filled w r ith pounded ice and salt, 
 and two strong bottles of iron, each closed by a screw firmly 
 fixed in the neck. 
 
 " Your majesty," said my Lord High Fiddlestick, taking 
 up one of them, " these iron bottles are half an inch thick, 
 and, as you see, they are firmly fastened at the top. They 
 are filled w r ith water, and I am going to place them in this 
 
SELECTIONS FOE THE YOUNG FOLKS. 251 
 
 pounded ice and salt, and freeze the water, to show you what 
 atoms can do. But I should like first to explain, as well as 
 I can, how water freezes. The water is made up of atoms, 
 or tiny particles of vapor, which are held together, like the 
 atoms of iron, by cohesion. But water is always much 
 warmer than iron, and, you remember, we found out that 
 heat is motion ; so, when I say that, I mean that the atoms 
 of water have much more motion than the atoms of iron. 
 \The iron nas so little heat-motion that cohesion can hold its 
 atoms tight and firm, and we call the iron hard and solid. 
 The water-atoms have so much heat-motion that cohesion 
 can hardly hold them in its grip, and the atoms roll over 
 each other so loosely that we call water a liquid. I place 
 these bottles in this ice and salt. The water- atoms are 
 chilled, and begin to huddle together. The motion of heat 
 will keep the atoms apart as long as it can, but as the atoms 
 grow colder — that is, as they lose their heat — they lose their 
 motion, and press closer together, till you may say the heat- 
 motion is gone entirely ; the dancing water-atoms cling to- 
 gether hard and stiff, and the water now takes up less room 
 in the bottles than it did at first. Almost every thing, when 
 freezing, becomes smaller, and stays smaller till it is warmed 
 again ; but this is not the case with water, luckily for the 
 fishes — for, if the ice remained smaller, it would sink to the 
 bottom, warm water would rise, be frozen, and sink in its 
 turn, till the lake or river was frozen solid. But ' No,' say 
 the water-atoms, ' we know better ; we draw together, close 
 and hard, till we freeze, and then, crack ! we stretch out on 
 every side — we grow larger and lighter, and make a warm 
 roof for every thing below.' Now, your majesty, while I 
 have been talking, the ice-atoms in the bottle have been 
 stretching and pressing out. 'We will have more room,' 
 say they. 'You can't have it,' answer the rigid iron-atoms, 
 piled on each other half an inch thick. Which is the stron- 
 gest ? There go the bottles, broken from top to bottom ! 
 And now, Mr. Traveler, what do you think of the soft water- 
 atoms, that can break iron ?" 
 
 The traveler said nothing. "Very curious," observed his 
 majesty. 
 

 252 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Your royal highness," cried my Lord High Fiddlestick, 
 much delighted, " do you remember how just two weeks ago 
 the Pink Page forgot to turn off the water ? Just what has 
 happened now in these bottles happened then in the pipes : 
 the water froze, the ice-atoms tried to stretch themselves, 
 the pipes would not stretch, and were broken as the bottles 
 are. When a thaw came, it was nothing but dribble and 
 leak all over the palace; and your majesty will recollect 
 that the queen's pink satin gown, which the Dame of the 
 Slippers had carelessly left in the powder closet, was quite 
 ruined." 
 
 " The Pink Page deserves to be hung, and you too, since 
 you knew all about it," growled the king. 
 
 "Your majesty, I should like to show you some more 
 atom-work," said the Lord High Fiddlestick, in a flurry. 
 
 " If flooding the palace is atom-work, I should say I had 
 seen enough," grumbled the king ; but the Lord High Fid- 
 dlestick pretended not to hear, and took out from a refriger- 
 ator a large block of ice. 
 
 "Your majesty," he said, "here, as you see, is a block of 
 ice. In front of it I place a glass, and before the glass a 
 white screen. Here I have what is called an electric lamp. 
 I am going to send a warm beam from this lamp through 
 the ice, as I have not a sunbeam handy. If any thing hap- 
 pens in the ice, it will be reflected in this glass ; but this is 
 a peculiar glass: whatever is reflected in it will be made 
 larger, and its image cast on the screen, so that you can all 
 see it." 
 
 " Likely story !" growled the traveler ; " as if any thing 
 worth seeing could happen in that piece of ice." 
 
 " We know," continued the Lord High Fiddlestick, " that 
 the ice-atoms came close together, but we do not know 
 whether they scrambled together, and are now lying head 
 and shoulders, or came in order; but we can take down the 
 block of ice, and find of what it is built, as we could take 
 down a house. I send a beam through the ice — the light 
 passes through. But there was Heat in the beam ; he has 
 found work to do, and he stays among the ice-atoms. He 
 is going from atom to atom, and urging them apart ; they 
 
SELECTIONS FOE THE YOUNG FOLKS. 253 
 
 are all in motion, and the solid block is coming down in 
 water — melting, as you would say. We are taking down 
 the ice now ; look on the screen." 
 
 The king and the courtiers looked. "Oh la!" scream- 
 ed every body. The sour little traveler had determined 
 not to look ; but he was so curious to know why every body 
 cried " oh la !" that he could not help turning his head, and 
 seeing the stars and sprays of the ice-atoms. 
 
 "Very fine," remarked the king; "but handsome is that 
 handsome does ! I should think better of these stars and 
 sprays if they had not flooded my palace." 
 
 My Lord High Fiddlestick knew better than to remind 
 the king that, if the Pink Page had been as orderly as the 
 ice -atoms, the palace would not have been flooded. In- 
 stead, ne brought out a little furnace filled with live coals, 
 on which stood a tea-kettle filled with boiling- water. 
 
 " Your majesty has seen," he said, " that water-atoms can 
 break iron, and are, i& fact, c giants in disguise.' We have 
 seen, also, that they are orderly giants, and, at the word of 
 command, fall into stars and sprays, as the soldiers of your 
 majesty's regiments fall into line, j^ow we have the water- 
 atoms and our old friend Heat here in this furnace. He is 
 at his usual work, fighting with Cohesion, and pushing the 
 water-atoms apart. Cohesion presses down with all its 
 weight, but Heat is quite strong enough to lift it. Then 
 the water-atoms spring apart in fine steam particles. The 
 water needs now much more room than it did in the begin- 
 ning. The water-atoms are greatly heated — that is, they are 
 in furious motion, and are stretching and pushing for more 
 room ; and once more we see here that Heat is Force. This 
 water, which would yield to the finger when cold, is now 
 strong. It whirls, and spins, and presses so hard that, if 
 there were no spout through which it could escape, and the 
 cover of the kettle were fitted tight, it would burst the ket- 
 tle. These atoms, your majesty, will push and drag tons. 
 They will saw, and grind, and punch, and plane stone and 
 iron. They—" 
 
 " Yes," cut in the traveler ; " but what could your won- 
 derful atoms do without the fire ?" 
 
254 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 " Just so," answered my Lord High Fiddlestick, with a 
 benevolent smile. "Just what I am coming at. "We can 
 hear the roaring of the wheels and hammers in his majesty's 
 iron-mill near by. What is making that noise ? Force, you 
 say. He is twisting, and turning, and rolling, and pound- 
 ing iron; and every time he turns a wheel, or brings down a 
 hammer, he dies, ' poor fellow !' So w r e go there to mourn 
 over him, and we find, as I said before, Heat in the wheels, 
 and in the instruments with which Force worked, and in all 
 the places where he has been. You know that Force can 
 take more shapes than one, and you begin to suspect that 
 Heat always comes where Force disappears — that Heat is. 
 only one of his shapes. You ask, ' Why, where did Force 
 come from ?' ? From the steam,' says somebody. But what 
 is steam ? Why, water-atoms pulled apart from each other, 
 and set in violent motion. But why does this water not 
 keep still, like other w T ater ? Because it is heated. Getting 
 heat is getting motion. 
 
 " But all this motion and strength of the wheels comes 
 from the motion of the water, and all this strength and mo- 
 tion of the water comes from the heat of the fire ! Yes. 
 "Why, then, all this force comes from Heat; and, Mr. Travel- 
 er, your friend Force only gave you one of his names. His 
 proper name is Heat, Motion, Heat ; and, when he has done 
 his work, he does not die, but only slips back into his old 
 shape of Heat again." 
 
 " My lord," exclaimed the king, " I am delighted ! I have 
 learned a great deal ; but it is always necessary to think of 
 what we learn, or our ideas will be jumbled in our brains 
 like fruit in a pudding." 
 
 So the king and the courtiers went away, stretching and 
 yawning, to think over what they had learned from the Lord 
 High Fiddlestick. 
 
 LIFE. — From January and June. 
 
 Benjamin F. Taylor. 
 The pulses of great Nature never beat more audibly and 
 musically than just about "the leafy month of June;" life, 
 every where life, in field and flood, in earth, and air, and sky. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 255 
 
 Life in all forms ; life with a sweet breath in it, life with & 
 song in it, life with a light in it. Life tied up in little bags 
 of most Quakerish-looking silk by that sly spinner, the spi- 
 der; life done up in gray bundles, and hung upon apple- 
 trees ; deposited in little brown paper cups, or packed away 
 in little clay cells by gentry in yellow jackets, and gentry 
 with delicate waists, whose only foible consists in their not 
 being always and altogether like Job and Moses ; life hidden 
 in the hearts of ripening plums and reddening cherries — find 
 a sweeter cradle any where, if you can ; life rocked in shells, 
 put up in mother-of-pearl, set in ivory, chased with gold, 
 consigned to little graves every where ; laid away in " pat- 
 ent burial-cases" — just where Fisk got the idea — and fasten- 
 ed to rails and fence-posts; life that,by-and-by, shall spread 
 wings damp with the imprint of this great stereotyping es- 
 tablishment of the Almighty ; life standing " on end" in lit- 
 tle boats, and rising into the air, taking to bugling as soon 
 as it is born, and evincing, by the presentation of " bills" at 
 most unseasonable and unreasonable hours, a decided talent 
 for ledger literature ; life sheltering itself beneath the leath- 
 ern umbrella of the mushroom, reveling in the rose's red 
 heart, drilled into the solid rock, domiciled in mud hovels, 
 along rafters and beneath eaves, " playing in the plighted 
 clouds," " laid" in a manger, peeping from holes, floating in 
 the air, swinging in the wind, skulking under the chips, bur- 
 rowing in the earth, darting along rail fences, opening nan- 
 keen throats from little baskets of twigs, floating in tatters 
 of green baize on the ponds, advocating Solomon on birch, 
 " poor Will" talking Greek, " brekeJceJc koax, koax" and prac- 
 ticing hydropathy, "Jc>ckugf\ life in bags and boxes, bun- 
 dles and blankets ; in silks, satins, and shells ; in " tights," 
 and flounces, and feathers, and flannels; life full dressed 
 and in dishabille ; life knocking from the centre of fallen 
 logs ; knocking from the other side of shells white and blue, 
 and mottled and dappled ; and June is 
 
 " The delegated voice of God" 
 
 to bid them " come in, come up, come down, come out," and 
 le, and do, and suffer; conjugating and inflecting the great 
 active verb — " Live." 
 
256 MANUAL OP BEADING. 
 
 Turn over the loam in the fields, and you turn out turtle's 
 eggs by the score. Go " across lots" to the neighbors', and 
 you find the pearly treasures of the whistling quail by the 
 dozen. Tap a sand-hill lightly with the toe of your boot, 
 and you will see the ladies to whom Solomon referred slug- 
 gards by the myriad. Shake a bush, and you shake out a 
 bird, or a peep, or a bug, or a bud, or something that's "all 
 alive." Pluck a leaf, and you may find in it a crystal drop 
 such as one might dream Queen Mab would shed if " in the 
 melting mood ;" but the sun shall " set" on it a few days, 
 and out will come a thing all legs, or wings, or stings — 
 something to hum or drum — to fly, or creep, or crawl ; some- 
 thing to be something and somebody, and count just as many 
 in the great census of creation as he who called the shades 
 of Ashland his, or she who journeyed of old to see Solo- 
 mon — count just as many, "in words and figures following," 
 to wit, (1) one. 
 
 THE GUARD ON THE RHINE.— Transla ted from the German. 
 
 There swells a cry as thunders crash, 
 As clash of swords and breakers dash — 
 To Rhine, to Rhine, to the German Rhine. 
 Who will protect thee, river mine ? 
 Dear fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine. 
 
 To millions swiftly came the cry, 
 And lightnings flashed from every eye : 
 Our youth, so good and brave, will stand 
 And guard thee, holy border land. 
 Dear fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine ! 
 
 And though my heart should beat no more, 
 
 "No foreign foe will hold thy shore ; 
 
 Rich, as in water is thy flood, 
 
 Is Germany in hero-blood. 
 
 Dear fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine ! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 257 
 
 Up looked he to the heavens blue, 
 Where hero-dead our actions view ; 
 He swore, and proudly sought the strife, 
 " The Rhine is German as my life." 
 Dear fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine ! 
 
 While yet one drop of blood throbs warm, 
 To wield the sword remains one arm, 
 To hold the rifle yet one hand, 
 'No foeman steps upon the strand. 
 Loved fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine ! 
 
 The oath resounds, the billows run, 
 
 Our colors flutter in the sun ; 
 
 To Rhine, to Rhine, to the German Rhine, 
 
 We will protect thee, river mine. 
 
 Dear fatherland, let peace be thine — 
 
 Brave hearts and true defend the Rhine ! 
 
 A SINGING LESSON. 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 A nightingale made a mistake — 
 
 She sang a few notes out of tune — 
 Her heart was ready to break, 
 
 And she hid from the moon. 
 She wrung her claws, poor thing, 
 
 But was far too proud to weep ; 
 She tuck'd her head under her wing, 
 
 And pretended to be asleep. 
 
 A lark, arm-in-arm with a thrush, 
 
 Came sauntering up to the place *, 
 The nightingale felt herself blush, 
 
 Though feathers hid her face. 
 She knew they had heard her song, 
 
 She felt them snicker and sneer ; 
 She thought that this life was too long, 
 
 And wished she could skip a year. 
 
258 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " Oh, nightingale," cooed a dove, 
 
 " Oh, nightingale, what's the use ? 
 You, a bird of beauty and love, 
 
 Why behave like a goose ? 
 Don't skulk away from our sight 
 
 Like a common, contemptible fowl ; 
 You bird of joy and delight, 
 
 Why behave like an owl ? 
 " Only think of all you have done — 
 
 Only think of all you can do ; 
 A false note is really fun 
 
 From such a bird as you ! 
 Lift up your proud little crest ; 
 
 Open your musical beak ; 
 Other birds have to do their best, 
 
 But you need only speak." 
 
 The nightingale shyly took 
 
 Her head from under her wing, 
 And, giving the dove a look, 
 
 Straightway began to sing. 
 There was never a bird could pass— 
 
 The night was divinely calm — 
 And the people stood on the grass 
 
 To hear that wonderful psalm. 
 
 The nightingale did not care — 
 
 She only sang to the skies ; 
 Her song ascended there, 
 
 And there she fixed her eyes. 
 The people who listened below 
 
 She knew but little about — 
 And this tale has a moral, I know, 
 
 If you'll try to find it out. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE.* 
 " I thought, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Bennie to his coun- 
 try, that not a father in all this broad land made so precious 
 a gift — no, not one. The dear boy only slept a minute — just 
 * Arranged by C. W. Sanders. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 259 
 
 one little minute, at his post ; I know that was all, for Ben- 
 nie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and reliable he 
 was ! I know he only fell asleep one little second — he was 
 so young, and not strong, that boy of mine ! Why, he was 
 as tall as I, and only eighteen ! and now they shoot him be- 
 cause he was found asleep when doing sentinel duty! Twen- 
 ty-four hours, "the telegram said — only twenty-four hours ! 
 Where is Bennie now ?" 
 
 " We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allan, 
 soothingly. 
 
 " Yes, yes, let us hope ; God is very merciful !" 
 " ' I should be ashamed, father !' Bennie said, c when I am a 
 man, to think I never used this great right arm' — and he held 
 it out so proudly before me — ' for my country when it need- 
 ed it ! Palsy it rather than keep it at the plow !' 
 
 "'Go, then — go, my boy,' I said, 'and God keep you!' 
 God has kept him, I think, Mr. Allan !" and the farmer re- 
 peated these last words slowly, as if, in spite of his reason, 
 his heart doubted them. 
 
 " Like the apple of his eye, Mr. Owen ; doubt it not." 
 Blossom sat near them, listening with blanched cheek. She 
 had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed 
 that no one noticed it. She had occupied herself mechanic- 
 ally in the household cares. Now she answered a gentle 
 tap at the kitchen door, opening it to receive from a neigh- 
 bor's hand a letter. u It is from him," was all she said. 
 
 It was like a message from the dead. Mr. Owen took the 
 letter, but could not break the envelope on account of his 
 trembling fingers, and held it toward Mr. Allan with the 
 helplessness of a child. 
 
 The minister opened it and read as follows : 
 "Dear Father, — When this reaches you I shall be in 
 eternity. At first it seemed awful to me ; but I have thought 
 about it so much now that it has no terror. They say they 
 will not bind me nor blind me, but that I may meet my 
 death like a man. I thought, father, it might have been on 
 the field of battle, for my country, and that, when I fell, it 
 would be fighting gloriously ; but to be shot clown like a 
 dog for nearly betraying it — to die for neglect of duty ! Oh, 
 
2 GO MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 father, I wonder the very thought does not kill me ! But I 
 shall not disgrace you. I am going to write you all about 
 it, and when I am gone you may tell my comrades. I can 
 not now. 
 
 " You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would 
 look after her boy, and when he fell sick I did all I could for 
 him. He was not strong when he was ordered back into the 
 ranks, and the day before that night I carried all his luggage, 
 besides my own, on our march. Toward night we went on 
 double-quick, and though the luggage began to feel very 
 heavy, every body else was tired too ; and as for Jemmie, if 
 I had not lent him an arm now and then, he would have drop- 
 ped by the way. I was all tired when we came into camp, 
 and then it, was Jemmie's turn to be sentry, and I would take 
 his place ; but I was too tired, father. I could not have kept 
 awake if a gun had been pointed at my head ; but I did not 
 know it until — well, until it was too late." 
 
 " God be thanked !" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently. u I 
 knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly at his post." 
 
 " They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve — given 
 to me by circumstances — c time to write to you,' our good 
 colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his duty ; 
 he would gladly save me if he could ; and do not lay my 
 death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is broken-hearted, 
 and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let him die 
 in my stead. 
 
 "I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort 
 them, father ! Tell them that I die as a brave boy should, 
 and that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed of 
 me, as they must be now. God help me ; it is very hard to 
 bear ! Good-by, father ! God seems near and dear to me ; 
 not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but as if He 
 felt sorry for his poor, sinful, broken-hearted child, and would 
 take me to be with Him and my Savior in a better — better 
 life." 
 
 A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen !" he 
 said, solemnly ; "Amen !" 
 
 "To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all 
 coming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom stand' 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 261 
 
 lng on the back stoop, waiting for me ; but I shall never, nev- 
 er come ! God bless you all ! Forgive your poor Bennie." 
 
 Late that night the door of the " back stoop" opened soft- 
 ly, and a little figure glided out, and down the footpath that 
 led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying than 
 walking, turning her head neither to the right nor the left, 
 looking only now and then to heaven, and folding her hands 
 as if in prayer. Two hours later, the same young girl stood 
 at the Mill Depot watching the coming of the night-train ; 
 and the conductor, as he reached down to lift her into the 
 car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was upturned to- 
 ward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A few questions 
 and ready answers told him all ; and no father could have 
 cared more tenderly for his only child than he for our little 
 Blossom. She was on her way to Washington, to ask Presi- 
 dent Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, 
 Jeaving only a note to tell her father where and why she had 
 gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her : no good, 
 kind heart, like the President's, could refuse to be melted by 
 it. The next morning they reached New York, and the con- 
 ductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, now, 
 might be the means of saving her brother's life. And so, in 
 an incredibly short time, Blossom reached the capital, and 
 hastened immediately to the White House. 
 
 The President had but just seated himself to his morning's 
 task of overlooking and signing important papers, when, 
 without one word of announcement, the door softly opened, 
 and Blossom, with downcast eyes and folded hands, stood be- 
 fore him. "Well, my child," he said, in his pleasant, cheer- 
 ful tones, " what do you want so bright and early in the 
 morning ?" 
 
 " Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom. 
 
 " Bennie ? Who is Bennie ?" 
 
 " My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleep- 
 ing at his post." 
 
 " Oh yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers be- 
 fore him. " I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, 
 child, it was at a time of special danger. Thousands of lives 
 might have been lost for his culpable negligence." 
 
262 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely ; "but poor 
 Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the 
 work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not his ; but 
 Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought about him- 
 self, that he was tired too." 
 
 " What is this you say, child ? Come here ; I do not un- 
 derstand ;" and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, at 
 what seemed to be a justification of an offense. 
 
 Blossom went to him; he put his hand tenderly on her 
 shoulder, and turned up the pale, anxious face toward his. 
 How tall he seemed, and he was President of the United 
 States too ! A dim thought of this kind passed through 
 Blossom's mind, but she told her simple and straightforward 
 story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read. 
 
 He read it carefully ; then, taking up his pen, wrote a few 
 hasty lines, and rang his bell. 
 
 Blossom heard this order given : " Send this dispatch 
 
 at ONCE." 
 
 The President then turned to the girl and said, " Go home, 
 my child, and tell that father of yours, who could approve 
 his country's sentence, even when it took the life of a child 
 like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life far too pre- 
 cious to be lost. Go back; or — wait until to-morrow ; Ben- 
 nie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death ; 
 he shall go with you." 
 
 " God bless you, sir !" said Blossom ; and who shall doubt 
 that God heard and registered the request ? 
 
 Two days after this interview the young soldier came to 
 the White House with his sister. He was called into the 
 President's private room, and a strap fastened " upon the 
 shoulder." Mr. Lincoln then said : " The soldier that could 
 carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die for the act so un- 
 complainingly, deserves well of his country." Then Bennie 
 and Blossom took their way to their Green Mountain home. 
 A crowd gathered at the Mill Depot to welcome them back; 
 and, as Farmer Owen's hand grasped that of his boy, tears 
 flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently, 
 " The Lord be praised !" 
 
SELECTIONS FOE THE YOUNG FOLKS. 263 
 
 THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. 
 
 J. W. Palmeb. 
 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 sharp 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 Thuthanna Peathe." 
 With frown to make a statue thrill, 
 The master thundered, " Hither, Will !" 
 i 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 threatener 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 set you to 't ?" 
 " 'Twas she herself, sir," sobbed the lad ; 
 u I did not mean to be so bad ; 
 But when Susannah shook her curls, 
 And whispered I was 'fraid of girls, 
 And dursn't kiss a baby's doll, 
 t couldn't stand it, sir, at all, 
 
264 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 But up and kissed her on the spot. 
 I know — boo-hoo — I ought to not, 
 But, somehow, from her looks — boo-hoo— 
 I thought she kind o' wished me to !" . 
 
 THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP. 
 
 " Pledge with wine — pledge with wine," cried the young 
 and thoughtless Harvey Wood; "pledge with wine," ran 
 through the bridal party. 
 
 The beautiful bride grew pale — the decisive hour had 
 come. She pressed her white hands together, and the leaves 
 of the bridal wreath trembled on her brow; her breath came 
 quicker, and her heart beat wilder. 
 
 " Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this once," said 
 the judge, in a low tone, going toward his daughter; "the 
 company expect it. Do not so seriously infringe upon the 
 rules of etiquette; in your own home, do as you please; but 
 in mine, for this once, please meP 
 
 Every eye was turned toward the bridal pair. Marion's 
 principles were well known. Harvey had been a convivial- 
 ist, 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 wom- 
 an's opinion so soon. 
 
 Pouring a brimming cup, they held it with tempting smiles 
 toward Marion. She was very pale, though mok composed; 
 and her hand shook not, as, smiling back, she gracefully ac- 
 cepted 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 terrible !" 
 
 "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 a light, which seemed in- 
 spired, shone from her dark eyes ; " wait, and I will tell you. 
 I see," she added, slowly, pointing one jeweled linger 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 love- 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 265 
 
 ly spot ; tall mountains, 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 vainlv 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 brows. 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 behind him — nay, 
 I should say kneels; for, see, 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 back 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 piteously his father's name — see him twine his 
 fingers together 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, overpowered, 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 away, and leave the 
 living and the dying together." 
 
 There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken only by 
 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 toward the range of her vision. She 
 spoke again ; every lip w T as 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 mooft is coming up, 
 and her beams lie gently on his forehead. He moves not ; 
 his eyes are set in their sockets; dim are their piercing 
 
 M 
 
266 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 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 soothe him. His head sinks back; one 
 convulsive shudder — he is dead." 
 
 A groan ran through the assembly. So vivid was her de- 
 scription, 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 that 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 not his head, but in a smothered voice he faltered, 
 " No, no, my child — no !" 
 
 She lifted the glittering goblet, and, letting it suddenly 
 fall to the floor, it was dashed in a thousand pieces. Many a 
 tearful eye watched her movement, and instantaneously ev- 
 ery wine-glass was transferred to the marble table on 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 are the everlasting hills than my resolve, God 
 helping me, never to touch or taste the poison-cup. And he 
 to whom I have given my hand, who watched over my 
 brother's 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 me 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 after, he return- 
 ed, and with a more subdued manner took part in the enter- 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 267 
 
 tainment of the bridal guests, no one could fail to read that 
 he, too, had determined to banish the enemy at once and for- 
 ever from his princely home. 
 
 Those who were present at that wedding can never for- 
 get the impressions so solemnly made. Many from that hour 
 renounced forever the social glass. 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS-TREE.— Carrier's Address, Philadelphia Post. 
 Hurra ! hurra ! for the Christmas-tree, 
 May it flourish for aye in its greenery. 
 When the winter comes with its whitening snow, 
 How proudly the Christmas-tree doth grow ! 
 It spreadeth its boughs so broad and so fair, 
 And jolly and gay are the fruits they bear. 
 
 Then hurra ! hurra ! for the Christmas-tree ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! for its mirth and glee ; 
 
 When forests of oak have passed from the land, 
 
 The jolly old Christmas-tree shall stand. 
 
 There are wonderful plants far over the sea, 
 But what are they all to the Christmas-tree ? 
 Does the oak bear candies, the palm-tree skates ? 
 But sugar-plums, trumpets, doll-babies, slates, 
 Picture-books, elephants, soldiers, cows, 
 All grow at once on the Christmas-tree boughs. 
 
 Then hurra ! hurra ! for the Christmas-tree ; 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! for its mirth and glee ; 
 
 When forests of oak have passed from the land, 
 
 The jolly old Christmas-tree shall stand. 
 Oh, many the homes it hath happy made, 
 When the little ones under its leaves have played ; 
 Oh, sweet are the pleasures around it that spring, 
 And dear are the thoughts of the past they bring. 
 Then long may it flourish, and green may it be, 
 The merry, mighty old Christmas-tree. 
 
 Hurra ! hurra ! for the Christmas-tree ; 
 
 Long shall it flourish, green shall it ^e ; 
 
 When forests have passed away from the land, 
 
 The jolly old Christmas-tree shall stand. 
 
268 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 BARBARA PRIETCHIE. 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 Up from the meadows rich with corn. 
 Clear in the cool September morn, 
 The clustered spires of Frederick stand, 
 Green-walled 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 the famished rebel horde, 
 On that pleasant morn of the early fall, 
 When Lee marched 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, 
 Flapped in the morning wind ; the sun 
 Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 
 
 Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, 
 Bowed with her fourscore years and ten ; 
 Bravest of all in Frederick town, 
 She took up the flag the men hauled down ; 
 
 In her attic window the staff she set, 
 To show that one heart was loyal yet. 
 
 Up the street came the rebel tread, 
 Stone wallJackson riding ahead. 
 
 Under his slouched hat, left and right, 
 He glanced — the old flag met his sight : 
 " Halt !" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast ; 
 " Fire !" — out blazed the rifle-blast ; 
 It shivered the window, pane and sash ; 
 It rent the banner with seam and gash. 
 
 Quiok, as it fell, from the broken staff 
 Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 263 
 
 She leaned 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 hirn stirred 
 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 tossed 
 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 Stonewall's bier. 
 
 Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 
 Flag of freedom and union, wave! 
 
 Peace, and order, and beauty, draw 
 Round thy symbols of light and law ; 
 
 And ever the stars above look down 
 On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 
 
 DEATH OF LITTLE NELL.— From the Old Curiosity Shop. 
 
 Charles Dickens. 
 By little and little the old man had drawn back toward 
 the inner chamber while these words were spoken. He 
 pointed there as he replied, with trembling lips, 
 
270 MANUAL OP READING, 
 
 "You plot among you to wean my heart from her. You 
 will never do that — never while I have life. I have no rel- 
 ative or friend but her — I never had — I never will have. 
 She is all in all to me. It is too late to part us now." 
 
 Waving them off with his hand, and calling softly to her 
 as he went, he stole into the room. They who were left be- 
 hind drew close together, and, after a few whispered words 
 -—not unbroken by emotion or easily uttered — followed 
 him. They moved so gently that their footsteps made no 
 noise, but there were sobs from among the group, and sounds 
 of grief and mourning. 
 
 For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at 
 rest. The solemn stillness was no marvel now. 
 
 She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free 
 from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creat- 
 ure fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath 
 of life — not one who had lived and suffered death. 
 
 Her couch was dressed with, here and there, some winter 
 berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been 
 used to favor. "When I die, put near me something that 
 has loved the light, and had the sky above it always." 
 These were her words. 
 
 Che was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was 
 dead. Her little bird — a poor slight thing the pressure of 
 a finger would have crushed — was stirring nimbly in its 
 cage, and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute 
 and motionless forever. 
 
 Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, 
 and fatigues? All gone. His was the true death before 
 their eyes. Sorrow was dead indeed in her, but peace and 
 perfect happiness were born, imaged in her tranquil beauty 
 and profound repose. 
 
 And still her former self lay there, unaltered in this change. 
 Yes ; the old fireside had smiled on that same sweet face ; it 
 had passed like a dream through haunts of misery and care ; 
 at the door of the poor schoolmaster on the summer even- 
 ing — before the furnace-fire on the cold, wet night — at the 
 still, dying bey, there had been the same mild, lovely look. 
 So shall we know the angels in their majesty, after death. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 2 V 1 
 
 The old man held one languid arm in his, and kept the 
 small hand tight folded to his breast, for warmth. It was 
 the hand she had stretched out to him with her last smile — 
 the hand that had led him on through all their wanderings. 
 Ever and anon he pressed it to his lips, then hugged it to 
 his breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now — and, 
 as he said it, he looked in agony to those who stood around, 
 as if imploring them to help her. 
 
 She was dead, and past all help, or need of it. The an- 
 cient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while her 
 own was ebbing fast — the garden she had tended — the eyes 
 she had gladdened — the noiseless haunts of many a thought- 
 less hour — the paths she had trodden as if it were but yes- 
 terday, could know her no more. 
 
 " It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he bent down to kiss 
 her on her cheek, and gave his tears free vent, " it is not in 
 this world that heaven's justice ends. Think what it is 
 compared with the world to which her young spirit has 
 winged its early flight, and say, if one deliberate wish, ex- 
 pressed in solemn terms above this bed, could call her back 
 to life, which of us would utter it !" 
 
 KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GRAY. 
 
 Two brown heads with tossing curls, 
 lied lips shutting over pearls, 
 Bare feet, white, and wet with dew, 
 Two eyes black, and two eyes blue — 
 Little boy and girl were they, 
 Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 
 
 They were standing where a brook, 
 Bending like a shepherd's crook, 
 Flashed its silver, and thick ranks 
 Of willow fringed its banks — 
 Half in thought and half in play, 
 Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 
 
 They had cheeks like cherries red ; 
 He was taller 'most a head ; 
 
272 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 She, with arms like wreaths of snow, 
 Swung a basket to and fro 
 (As they loitered, half in play), 
 Chattering to Willie Gray. 
 
 " Pretty Katie," Willie said—   
 And there came a dash of red 
 Through the brownness of the cheek— 
 " Boys are strong, and girls are weak, 
 And I'll carry, so I will, 
 Katie's basket up the hill." 
 
 Katie answered with a laugh, 
 "You shall carry only half;" 
 Then said, tossing back her curls, 
 " Boys are weak as well as girls." 
 Do you think that Katie guessed 
 Half the wisdom she expressed ? 
 
 Men are only boys grown tall ; 
 Hearts don't change much, after all ; 
 And when, long years from that day, 
 Katie Lee and Willie Gray 
 Stood again beside the brook 
 Bending like a shepherd's crook, 
 
 Is it strange that Willie said, 
 While again a dash of red 
 Crowned the brownness of his cheek, 
 " I am strong, and you are weak ; 
 Life is but a slippery steep, 
 Hung with shadows cold and deep. 
 
 " Will you trust me, Katie dear — 
 Walk beside me without fear ? 
 May I carry, if I will, 
 All your burdens up the hill?" 
 And she answered with a laugh, 
 " No, but you may carry half." 
 
 Close beside the little brook 
 Bending like a shepherd's crook, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 273 
 
 Working with its silver hands 
 Late and early at the sands, 
 Stands a cottage, where to-day- 
 Katie lives with Willie Gray. 
 
 In the porch she sits, and, lo ! 
 Swings a basket to and fro 
 Vastly different from the one 
 That she swung in years agone : 
 This is long, and deep, and wide, 
 And has — rockers at the side ! 
 
 SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 
 
 Thomas Buchanan Readw 
 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, 
 
 And Sheridan twenty miles away. 
 
 But there is a road from Winchester town, 
 A good, broad highway leading down ; 
 And there, through the flush 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. 
 M2 
 
 / 
 
274 MANUAL OP HEADING. 
 
 Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south, 
 « The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth, 
 Or the tail 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 Avails, 
 Impatient to be where the battle-field calls. 
 Each nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 
 With Sheridan only ten miles away. 
 
 Under his spurning feet, the road 
 
 Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 
 
 And the landscape fled away behind 
 
 Like an ocean flying before the wind ; 
 
 And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, 
 
 Swept on w T ith his wild eyes full of fire. 
 
 But, lo ! he is nearing 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 huzzas, 
 
 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 !" 
 
 Hurra ! hurra for Sheridan ! 
 
 Hurra ! hurra 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, 
 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 275 
 
 Be it said in letters both bold and bright, 
 "Here is the steed that saved the day 
 By carrying Sheridan into the fight 
 From Winchester, twenty miles away I" 
 
 THE BOTTLE IMP.— From the Little Corporal. 
 
 Julia M. Thayer. 
 
 " Come, little Hans," said the lame cobbler, with a good- 
 natured wink, " run round the corner for father, and get the 
 bottle filled ; here's a penny for a ginger-snap ; quick, now, 
 before the mother gets back ! he ! he ! he !" and he nodded 
 and chuckled to himself, as if it were a rare joke to send the 
 absent mother's darling on a fiend's errand, whither the an- 
 gel of her prayers would hardly follow. 
 
 The little one hesitated, knowing, in his heart, that the 
 mother would say " Kay, the child shall not meddle with 
 hell-fire ;" but was there ever a little one could resist a gin- 
 ger-snap ? Not Hans Christopher, certainly, for whom the 
 cottage shelf seldom held such dainties. 
 
 " There goes the cobbler's boy to old Grinder's den, with 
 a big black bottle," said the brisk little dress-maker over the 
 way, glancing out of the window. " ISTow we'll not hear the 
 rat-tat-tat of his hammer again for another fortnight. Moth- 
 er, what think you will ever become of that man ? He goes 
 from bad to worse, that's certain ; and the boy will be ditto, 
 I suppose. None of my business ? Of course not ; it is none 
 of my business that my own father and brother went the 
 same way to destruction ; it is none of my business that ten 
 thousand fathers and brothers — " she stopped suddenly, for 
 the old woman's sigh struck her to the heart. 
 
 Meantime little Hans came back, picking his way carefully 
 over the rough paving-stones. 
 
 " Say, little one," and the dress-maker put her head out at 
 the window, " what have you in that lovely junk bottle ? Is 
 it a nice sup of his infernal majesty's favorite bitters, season- 
 ed with tears and curses ? Your mother likes to have your 
 father drink that, don't she ? Take care ! don't spill a drop 
 of the precious stuff. I'll tell you what, little boy," and the 
 
2*76 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 tone sunk to an awful whisper, " there's an ugly little black 
 imp shut up in that bottle ; you let him out, and sometime 
 he'll tear the very heart out of your body /" 
 
 She shut the window with a jerk; and little Hans, on 
 wings of terror, flew back to the dingy shop. 
 
 " Oh, father," he shrieked, panting for breath, "don't let 
 him out ! don't let him out !" 
 
 " Who ? What ? The child's bewitched," said the cob- 
 bler, pausing in the act of drawing the cork. 
 
 u The — the — oh, father, she said there was a — imp — in the 
 bottle, and he'd tear your heart to pieces ! Don't ! Oh, fa- 
 ther, don't !" and he held up his little hands imploringly, 
 while drops of perspiration beaded his face. 
 
 Such agony was distressing to witness, and Christopher 
 set the bottle down to reason with the child. 
 
 " What is it, Hans? Who has been putting this nonsense 
 into your head ? Why, let me tell you, little man, this bot- 
 tle is my comfort — my angel ; just see, now, how he w r arms 
 my stomach, and cheers my heart, and is, altogether, a very 
 good friend. What could a poor man do without it, indeed? 
 Here's to your health, little Hans." And the little boy, with 
 horror, saw the fatal vessel uncorked, and lifted to his fa- 
 ther's lips. 
 
 Shrinking back into the uttermost corner, and pressing his 
 hands tightly over his heart, he gazed long and shuddering- 
 ly ; but no uncanny imp appearing to verify the dress-mak- 
 er's assertion, with a child's light-heartedness he soon dis- 
 missed the horrid phantom from his imagination. 
 
 Not so Christopher. A new train of thought was awaken- 
 ed in his brain, now roused to unusual activity by the stim- 
 ulating draught. 
 
 "An imp in the bottle, hah ! that is an idee, truly," quoth 
 he to himself. "An imp is a devil, and a devil is good for 
 naught but to frighten women and children; let him come on ! 
 I'm not a— feared!" With that he took another draught of 
 the liquid fire. " Go to blazes ! can't a man have a drop of 
 somethin' warm, but they must get up a scarecrow of some 
 sort o' nother to it ? Go — to — Good God ! there he is 
 now," shrieked the cobbler, gazing, with livid face and 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 277 
 
 eyes starting from their sockets, into a dusky corner of th« 
 room. 
 
 " Get out ! get out ! you nasty, grinning, ill-mannered dev 
 il, you ! Get out, I say !" flinging his hammer at the fiend, 
 while boots, lapstone, and last went flying after. 
 
 But the creature moved not. He sat enveloped in a blu» 
 ish smoke ; his tongue darted forth flames, and the glance of 
 his eyes burnt into the cobbler's very soul, who already feU 
 those horrid claws tugging at his heart-strings. 
 
 " Come !" said the goblin. 
 
 Great drops of sweat rolled down the cobbler's face as he 
 strove in vain to move his palsied limbs. 
 
 "Come !" and the black-faced imp began to leer, and chuck- 
 le, and dance about in horrid glee. 
 
 "I'm the bottle sprite — your comfort, your angel, your 
 good friend, in whom you delight ! Cheer up, and let's 
 away ; I've something to show you." With that he made 
 a dive at Christopher, who, with superhuman effort, sprang 
 from his bench, and struggled wildly toward the door. He 
 missed it, and, after spinning round and round like a top, 
 went sprawling to the floor, whence the bottle sprite lifted 
 him by the hair of his head, and bore him off triumphantly 
 through the roof— away, away into the fields of air. 
 
 At last he found himself set plump upon the roof of a vast 
 distillery. He knew it by the pungent odors that filled his 
 nostrils, and helped to restore his scattered senses. Squat 
 before him was his black " angel," encircled still in the blue 
 atmosphere of the nether world. 
 
 Christopher shrank away in horror, and covered his face 
 with both hands. 
 
 " You loathe me — you shrink from me," hissed the imp ; 
 " me, who have cheered, and warmed, and comforted you so 
 often! Is that fair?" 
 
 The cobbler felt his brain on fire — his throat parched — his 
 blood like molten lead in his veins. 
 
 "Drink — give me drink !" he cried, in an agony of thirst ; 
 " devil or not, I must have drink." 
 
 The bottle sprite laughed mockingly, and again uttered 
 the masric word " Come !" 
 
278 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 They descended into the rooms below. There were huge 
 vats and giant hogsheads of steaming liquor; there were 
 loads upon loads of life-sustaining grain, toward which were 
 lifted the empty, outstretched hands of famishing thousands; 
 there were ponderous machines, and hundreds of men, toil- 
 ing to convert the nutritious gift of the Creator into soul 
 poison and body poison. And there, among all, and over 
 all, and flitting hither and thither, like bats, squatting like 
 toads, or creeping like reptiles, were myriads of uncanny 
 imps — hate, envy, strife, anger, discord, cruelty — all baleful 
 passions — all fearful and disgusting forms of devilishness. 
 They swarmed round the vats, casks, and demijohns ; they 
 plunged and frolicked in the burning liquid ; they clung to 
 it, and followed it through all its changes, and whatever its 
 destination. 
 
 " Ah ! comrades, how are you ?" cried Christopher's " an- 
 gel," with a wicked grin. " You're at it, I see. You'll never 
 perish here for lack of sustenance. It's vjhisky that does it, 
 my hearties ! Wherever that goes, you go ; and wherever 
 you go, tears, and curses, and broken hearts follow. Oh, 
 you make a jolly world of it ! Success to you ! Do you see 
 that cask of good old rye ?" said the philosophic imp, turn- 
 ing to Christopher, who by this time had nearly forgotten 
 his thirst in amazement. "I'll tell you what we are going 
 to do with that. There's murder in that, and suicide. The 
 man that drinks it will kill his own brother, and then go and 
 hang himself. And, see here ! this lovely bottle of Bourbon 
 is for medicine. Some poor sick body'll take it for tic dou- 
 loureux, or the like. What then ? Why, there's a sleeping 
 serpent in it, called Appetite, that will eat into that soul like 
 a canker. Ah ! good cobbler, if these liquors were only 
 named according to their real uses, what an array we should 
 have ! but come !" 
 
 Awa^y they sped, over prairies laughing in the sunshine, 
 over waters dimpling in the breeze, over cities reeking with 
 vile vapors, and bustling with all the activities of life. They 
 reached the land of the vintage — a land of peace and beauty. 
 A smiling sky looked down upon a smiling landscape ; the 
 sons: of the vintners floated far on the still summer air; 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 279 
 
 grapes hung in purple clusters from the vine, or stained the 
 wine -press with their juices; rosy youths and maidens 
 wrought amid the vineyards. "Here it begins," said the 
 bottle imp ; " more than half the want and woe over yonder. 
 You wouldn't think it, would you, so calm a scene ? Toil 
 away, fair youths and simple maidens ! prepare the seduc- 
 ing cup, sweet, and bright, and sparkling ; so much the bet- 
 ter — the less can men resist it. Oh, to see it fire the brain 
 and stir the heart to madness ! Oh, to see it drive reason 
 from her throne, drown the voice of conscience, and stifle 
 the sense of pity and affection ! to see it steal the bread from 
 the poor man's shelf — his food, and fire, and raiment — his 
 honor, hope, happiness; and, last of all, his soul! ha! ha! 
 Toil on, sweet people, dear people ; the Evil One loves your 
 work !" 
 
 The grimaces and contortions of the little chuckling fiend 
 were horrible to witness, and the poor cobbler would fain 
 have hidden away behind some friendly trellis ; but no, the 
 spell was on him, and he must away. 
 
 " That is as it was in the very, very olden time," continued 
 the fiend, as they paused upon a city spire for Christopher to 
 take breath. " We bottle imps were half asleep in those 
 days. Men drank the pure juice of the grape; and, though 
 we managed to creep in, very much to their undoing, it was 
 nothing compared with these times — he ! he ! Now here's 
 something precious to show you. Come !" 
 
 They descended, by what witchcraft the cobbler never 
 knew, to dark, underground regions — vast vaults, where 
 were ranged, on every side, in vessels of various sorts, what 
 purported to he pure wines and liquors of every description, 
 cobwebbed and mildewed with age. 
 
 " Now this beats the other place all to nothing, as you 
 shall see," quoth the imp. 
 
 Presently a little weazen-faced old man appeared, bear- 
 ing in his hand a lighted taper, which moved like a baleful 
 star amid the darkness. 
 
 He went from cask to cask, from bottle to bottle; and ever, 
 as he opened and closed each one, in went a horrid little im- 
 age, compared with which the bottle fiends were beautiful. 
 
280 MANUAL OP HEADING. 
 
 Christopher's black "angel" was nearly beside himself with 
 mirth. "Pop! there goes another," said he; " that's arsenic; 
 and there's opium, and copperas, and ichite lead, and vitriol, 
 and nux vomica, and coculus inclicus, and a host of others. 
 There's gripes for you, and scorching fevers, and nausea, and 
 deadly stupor, and wild delirium — ha ! ha ! ha ! what a jolly 
 time they will have with all those poisonous devils. Come, 
 let's see to it !" 
 
 But ah! what tongue can tell the heart-rending pictures 
 poor Christopher was doomed to witness ! He shrank in hor- 
 ror from each new scene, but, like one in a fearful nightmare, 
 he was dumb and powerless. 
 
 Gifted with a strange clairvoyance, he saw the secret can- 
 ker gnawing at the heart-strings of him who was given over 
 to appetite. He saw the young wife turn in torturing mis- 
 ery from her husband's bloated visage ; he saw the promis- 
 ing youth, yet encircled by his mother's prayers, lured by the 
 sparkling wine-cup, break over all restraints, while the roses 
 of joy and love fell blighted round his path ; and the rainbow 
 of hope, which once spanned his way, was shrouded in tem- 
 pest and darkness. He saw that mother's heart torn with 
 anguish as she laid her first-born in a drunkard's grave ; he 
 saw the upturned, pitiful faces of the drunkard's children, in- 
 nocent, but accursed ; he saw brother smiting brother in his 
 frenzy; and women, once tender and beautiful, besotted 
 drunkards ; and among all, and above all, the bottle imps 
 still played their wild pranks, and chuckled, in hellish glee, 
 over the ruin they had wrought. 
 
 Christopher saw all this, and it burned deeply into his 
 soul. The sparkling glass, the well-filled demijohn, no lon- 
 ger charmed him. Oh, for some mighty talisman by which to 
 exorcise all these demons, and sweep every vestige of them 
 from the earth ! 
 
 But still his lips were dumb. Then, with a wild longing, 
 his heart turned toward home. " Come !" said the imp, as if 
 divining his thoughts, and they swiftly neared the dingy 
 shop. 
 
 How plainly, now, he beheld, through clapboard and raft- 
 er, the emptiness of the spot — the unlighted hearth, the 
 
SELECTIONS FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. 281 
 
 scanty wardrobe, the stinted board ; the lonely heart there/* 
 pining for affection ; the well-nigh fatherless child, now cling- 
 ing to him with winning confidence, now shrinking utterly 
 away in pain and terror. 
 
 "Ah ! but this is a fine place, isn't it ?" said the bottle imp, 
 delightedly; "not much elegance and beauty, or even com- 
 fort, here. A good many tears have been shed — a good 
 many ghosts of dead hopes and joys are flitting round ; but 
 we'll do better than that ! Only stick to the bottle, good 
 Christopher, and we'll stay by you, never fear ! Here are a 
 few tools might yet be pawned for liquor ; things aren't quite 
 so rickety as they may be. And then the woman — she's a 
 brave one — she works hard to keep things together, and 
 wears a pretty bright face, but we'll break her heart yet — 
 and the little one ! for all her tender coddlings and fine 
 teachings, just train him up to follow your footsteps, and 
 won't he toss the first clod upon her grave ?" 
 
 The poor cobbler wept and groaned in anguish of spirit, 
 for, with all his faults, he heartily loved his wife and child, 
 and thoroughly detested his own bad ways. 
 
 With one last, mighty effort, he broke the spell that bound 
 him. 
 
 " Out, fiend ! liar ! devil !" he shrieked ; " take that — and 
 that !" 
 
 Crash — clatter — crash ! 
 
 " What can be the matter ?" exclaimed Madame Christo- 
 pher, just hurrying in from her morning's scanty marketing. 
 
 " Oh, father, have you done it? have you smashed him?" 
 shouted little Hans, capering with glee around the shining 
 fragments of the " lovely junk bottle." 
 
 " Yes, my son, I have done it, and I am done with it for- 
 ever!" said Christopher, gathering himself up slowly from 
 the floor, and standing erect upon his lame leg. 
 
 "Do tell, mother! what do you think?" said the little 
 dress-maker, one day. " Doesn't every thing go nicely over 
 the way ? Little Hans is as happy and well-dressed a boy as 
 one often sees, and Madame steps around about her work as 
 if she was fairly dancing to the rat-tat-tat of the cobbler's 
 hammer." 
 
282 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 RULES FOR LIFE. 
 
 1. Keep good company, or none. 
 
 2. Speak the truth, or nothing. 
 
 3. Make few promises, and keep them. 
 
 4. Drink no intoxicating liquors. 
 
 5. Never play at games of chance. 
 
 6. Never be idle. 
 
 7. Earn money before you spend it. 
 
 8. Do that first which needs doing most. 
 
 9. Make no haste to be rich. 
 
 10. Investigate affairs closely, and engage in them cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 11. Lay your plans with prudence, and be prepared for 
 emergencies. 
 
 12. In difficulties be patient, and overcome them by per- 
 severance. 
 
 13. Say nothing that you would be ashamed to hear 
 again. 
 
 14. When you retire at night, think over the events of 
 the day, and avoid to-morrow the errors of to-day. 
 
 GERMAN QUOTATIONS AND PROVERBS. 
 
 1. By the street of By-and-by one arrives at the house of 
 Never. 
 
 2. If you are an anvil, be patient ; if you are a hammer, 
 strike hard. 
 
 3. One to-day is better than ten to-morrows. 
 
 4. Once in people's mouths, 'tis hard to get out of them. 
 
 5. Procrastination of a good deed has often brought re- 
 pentance. — Gleim. 
 
 6. We must wait for the future, and enjoy or bear the 
 present. — Wilhelm von Humboldt. 
 
 7. Divide and command, a wise maxim; unite and guide, 
 a better. — Goethe. 
 
 8. We are accustomed to see men deride what they do 
 not understand, and snarl at the good and beautiful because 
 it lies beyond their sympathies. — Goethe. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 
 
 FULL OF SNOW. 
 
 Rev. Joseph Cook. 
 Out in the wind and storm, upon a tree 
 All stripped and bare, sits drearily 
 
 A bird's nest full of snow, 
 From which the bird has parted long ago. 
 From the cold nest no song of bird is flowing, 
 No cry for food from tender nestlings going, 
 Full of snow. 
 
 Mourning and sad the barren branches wave 
 Around the nest — an unprotected grave ; 
 
 'Tis sad to see it so, 
 Braving the storm, from which it can not go ; 
 Fetters of ice the driving sleet is leaving, 
 Yet still to that cold branch we see it cleaving 
 'Neath sun, and moon, and winter's heaving 
 Full of snow. 
 
 Type of a wilder, colder winter's reign ; 
 Semblance of deeper, soul in wailing, pain : 
 
 For well this world I know, 
 That it is very wide, and full of woe. 
 Cold, cold as here to-night, 'round hearts are wailing 
 Winds of dark grief, the spirit's features paling, 
 And millions walk this journey, weary, failing, 
 Full of snow. 
 
 God knows of griefs that we know not, alone, 
 God knows of nests from which the bird is flown — 
 
 Of hidden, silent woe, 
 That we pass by, and lose in life's great flow. 
 God sees the stricken mourner's secret weeping ; 
 God sees the dark, cold shadow silent creeping 
 O'er hearts that cold distrust, or hate, is heaping 
 Full of snow. 
 
 What does the wide world know of real life ? 
 Ours, as it is, an inner, silent strife ; 
 
 Of thoughts that ever flow 
 Deep in the secret soul — what does it know ? 
 
284 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 In each soul's realm of being there's an ocean 
 Ever unknown to man, and yet in motion, 
 Shoreless and deep, with storms that have their portion 
 Full of snow. 
 
 Green vales but tremble o'er earth's inner groans, 
 Daisies bloom white above the battle's bones ; 
 
 We surface gazers do not know 
 The hidden caves the ocean laves below. 
 There is a night that never knows a breaking 
 This side God's heaven ; sun's rise, and yet no waking ; 
 Sleep on the lids of joy, and moments flaking 
 Full of snow. 
 
 Have ye not felt it who have laid God's boon, 
 The loved and lovely, in the tearless tomb, 
 
 Whom God has made, that every hour to know 
 When from its resting-place the bird must go ? 
 Have ye not felt it who alone are treading 
 Paths on which love no light is longer shedding, 
 Which dire desertion, day and night, is spreading 
 Full of snow ? 
 
 See ! as I linger here, the clouds droop nigh, 
 Winds, storm, and night rush howling from the sky ; 
 
 Hopeful, though sad, O God, to thee I go, 
 For thou art God of spring as well as snow. 
 I know the time is short ; if we are steady, 
 A home beyond Time's falling flakes is ready, 
 Where o'er the vales, around God's feet, shall eddy- 
 No more snow. 
 
 LABOR. 
 
 Mrs. Frances S. Osgood, 
 Pause not to dream of the future before us, 
 Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us : 
 Hark how Creation's deep musical chorus 
 
 Unintermitting goes up into heaven ! 
 Never the ocean-wave stops in its flowing ; 
 Never the little seed stops in its growing ; 
 More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing 
 
 Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. 
 
 " Labor is worship !" the robin is singing : 
 " Labor is worship !" the wild bee is ringing : 
 Listen ! that eloquent whisper upspringing 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 285 
 
 Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart. 
 From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower ; 
 From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower ; 
 From the small insect the rich coral bower ; 
 
 Only man, in the plan, ever shrinks from his part. 
 Labor is life ! 'Tis the still water faileth ; 
 Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; 
 Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; 
 
 Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. 
 Labor is glory ! the flying cloud lightens ; 
 Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; 
 Idle hearts only the dark future frightens : 
 
 Play the sweet keys wouldst thou keep them in tune I 
 Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us ; 
 Rest from all petty vexations that meet us ; 
 Rest from the sin-promptings that ever entreat us ; 
 
 Rest from the world-sirens that lure us to ill. 
 * Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow ; 
 Work — thou shalt ride over care's coming billow. 
 Lie not down wearied 'neath woe's weeping willow ! 
 
 Work with a stout heart and resolute will. 
 
 Labor is health ! Lo ! the husbandman reaping, 
 How through his veins goes the life-current leaping ! 
 How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping, 
 
 True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides ! 
 Labor is wealth — in the sea the pearl groweth ; 
 Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ; 
 From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth ; 
 
 Temple and statue the marble block hides. 
 
 Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee; 
 Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee ; 
 Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee ; 
 
 Rest not content in thy darkness — a clod ! 
 Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ! 
 Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly ; 
 Labor — all labor is noble and holy ; 
 
 Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. 
 
 GETHSEMANE. 
 
 E. Clementine Howarth. 
 I think, could I behold the bowers 
 
 Where my Redeemer bent the knee, 
 And breathe the fragrance of the flowers 
 Of sanctified Gethsem'ane, 
 
286 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And with my sinful lips once press 
 The turf on which my Savior trod, 
 
 Anointed thus, then could they bless, 
 And praise, and serve thee, O my God. 
 
 I know not if the Kedron brook 
 
 Doth water still the solemn glade, 
 Nor if it bears aught of the look 
 
 It bore when there our Savior prayed ; 
 But, though the Kedron floweth not, 
 
 And thou art bare of flower or tree, 
 To me thou art earth's holiest spot, 
 
 Oh sanctified Gethsemane ! 
 
 There is a sad and soothing charm 
 
 Even in thy name, oh sacred earth, 
 That stills like drop of magic balm, 
 
 The turbid waves of passion's birth ; 
 And thou hast ever power to set 
 
 My captive heart from fetters free ; 
 I only sin when I forget 
 
 The sorrows of Gethsemane. 
 
 'Tis said that eveiy earthly sound 
 
 Goes trembling through the voiceless spheres, 
 Bearing its endless echoes round 
 
 The pathway, of eternal years. 
 Ah ! surely, then, the sighs that He 
 
 That midnight breathed, the zephyrs bore   
 From thy dim shades, Gethsemane, 
 
 To thrill the world for evermore. 
 
 I know not, but I fain would trace 
 
 O'er burning deserts long and wide, 
 That I might look upon the place 
 
 Where my Redeemer lived and died ; 
 And fallen tower and broken wall 
 
 Of his loved city I would see, 
 And thou, the holiest spot of all, 
 
 Oh sanctified Gethsemane ! 
 
 A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 
 
 George H. Bokeb. 
 "Oh whither sail you, Sir John Franklin ?" 
 
 Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay. 
 " To know if between the land and the pole 
 I may find a broad sea-way." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 287 
 
 " I charge you back, Sir John Franklin, 
 
 If you would live and thrive ; 
 For between the land and the frozen pole 
 
 No man may sail alive." 
 
 But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, 
 
 And spoke unto his men : 
 " Half England is wrong if he is right ; 
 
 Bear oft* to westward, then !" 
 
 "Oh whither sail you, brave Englishman ?" 
 
 Cried the little Esquimaux. 
 "Between your land and the polar star 
 
 My goodly vessels go." 
 
 " Come down, if you would journey there," 
 
 The little Indian said, 
 "And change your cloth for fur clothing, 
 
 Your vessel for a sled. " 
 
 But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, 
 
 And the crew laughed with him too ; 
 "A sailor to change from ship to sled 
 
 I ween were something new !" 
 
 All through the long, long polar day 
 
 The vessels westward sped, 
 And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown, 
 
 The ice gave way and fled — 
 
 Gave way with many a hollow groan, 
 
 And many a surly roar, 
 But it murmured and threatened on every side, 
 
 And closed where he sailed before. 
 
 " Ho ! see ye not, my merry men, 
 
 The broad and open sea ? 
 Bethink ye what the whaler said — 
 Think of the little Indian's sled !" 
 
 The crew laughed out in glee. 
 
 " Sir John ! Sir John ! 'tis bitter cold ; 
 
 The scud drives on the breeze ; 
 The ice comes looming from the north ; 
 
 The very sunbeams freeze !" 
 
 The drifting icebergs dipped and rose, 
 
 And floundered down the gale 5 
 The ships were stayed, the yardfc were Planned 
 
 And furled the useless sail. 
 
288 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 "The summer's gone, the winter's come, 
 
 We sail not on yonder sea ; 
 Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin .?" 
 
 A silent man was he. 
 
 The cruel ice came floating on, 
 
 And closed beneath the lee 
 Till the thickening waters dashed no more— 
 'Twas ice around, behind, before — 
 
 " My God ! there is no sea !" 
 
 " What think you of the whaler now ? 
 
 What of the Esquimaux ? 
 A sled were better than a ship 
 
 To cruise through ice and snow." 
 
 The snow came down, storm breeding storm, 
 
 And on the decks was laid, 
 Till the weary sailor, sick at heart, 
 
 Sank down beside his spade. 
 
 " Sir John, the night is black and long, 
 
 The hissing wind is bleak ; 
 The hard, green ice is strong as death ; 
 
 I pr'ythee, captain, speak !" 
 
 "The night is neither bright nor short ; 
 
 The stinging breeze is cold ; 
 The ice is not so strong as hope ! 
 
 The heart of man is bold!" 
 * * * * * 
 
 " " Hark ! heard ye not the noise of guns ? 
 And there — there — there again ! 
 /Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar 
 As he turns in the frozen main." 
 
 " Sir John, where are the English fields, 
 And where are the English trees ? 
 
 And where are the little English flowers 
 That open to the breeze?" 
 
 " Be still, be still, my brave sailors ! 
 
 You shall see the fields again, 
 And smell the scent of the opening flowers-— 
 
 "But when, Sir John ; but when ?" 
 
 "Oh when shall I see my orphan child — 
 My Mary that waits for me ? 
 
 Oh when shall I see my old mother, 
 And pray at her trembling knee ?" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 289 
 
 " Be still, be still, my brave sailors ! 
 
 Think not such thoughts again!" 
 But a tear froze slowly on his cheek — 
 
 He thought of Lady Jane. 
 Ah ! bitter, bitter grows the cold ; 
 
 The ice grows more and more ; 
 More settled stare the wolf and bear — 
 
 More patient than before. 
 "Oh think you, good Sir John Franklin, 
 
 We'll ever see the land ? 
 'Twas cruel to send us here to starve, 
 
 Without a helping hand ! 
 " 'Twas cruel, Sir John, to send us here, 
 
 So far from help and home, 
 To starve and freeze on this lonely sea ! 
 I ween the Lords of the Admiralty 
 
 Would rather send than come." 
 
 "Oh, whether we starve to death alone, 
 
 Or sail to our own country, 
 We have done what man has never done : 
 The truth is found — the secret won — 
 
 We passed the northern sea !" 
 ****** 
 Long years went by. Hope died in fear, 
 
 But never relented the frost. 
 Some letters that stood for the brave and dear, 
 And some oars and bones told the story drear — 
 
 Then we knew what the secret cost ! 
 
 THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE. 
 
 Mrs. Caroline Norton. 
 
 Word was brought to the Danish king 
 
 (Hurry!) 
 That the love of his heart lay suffering, 
 And pined for the comfort his voice would bring. 
 
 (Oh ride as if you were flying !) 
 Better he loves each golden curl 
 On the brow of that Scandinavian girl 
 Than his rich crown-jewels of ruby and pearl ; 
 
 And his Rose of the Isles is dying. 
 Thirty nobles saddled with speed ; 
 
 (Hurry!) 
 Each one mounted a gallant steed 
 Which he kept for battle and davs of need ; 
 
 N 
 
290 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 (Oh ride as though you were flying!) 
 Spurs were struck in the foaming flank, 
 Worn-out chargers staggered and sank ; 
 Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst ; 
 But, ride as they would, the king rode first, 
 
 For his Kose of the Isles lay dying. 
 
 His nobles are beaten one by one ; • 
 
 (Hurry!) 
 They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gonej 
 The little fair page now follows alone. 
 
 For strength and for courage trying, 
 The king looked back at that faithful child, 
 Wan was the face that answering smiled. 
 They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, 
 Then he dropped, and only the king rode in 
 
 Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying. 
 
 The king blew a blast on his bugle-horn : 
 
 (Silence!) 
 No answer came, but faint and forlorn 
 An echo returned on the cold gray morn, 
 
 Like the breath of a spirit sighing. 
 The castle portal stood grimly wide ; 
 None welcomed the king from that weary ride ; 
 For, dead in the light of the dawning day, 
 The pale, sweet form of the welcomer lay, 
 
 Who had yearned for his voice while dying. 
 
 The panting steed with a drooping crest 
 
 Stood weary ; 
 The king returned from the chamber of rest, 
 The thick sobs choking in his breast, 
 
 And that dumb companion eying, 
 The tears gushed forth which he strove to check ; 
 He bowed his head on his charger's neck : 
 M Oh steed, that every nerve didst strain — 
 Dear steed ! our ride hath been in vain 
 
 To the halls where my love lay dying !" 
 
 OVER THE RIVER. 
 
 Miss Priest. 
 Over the river they beckon to me — 
 
 Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side ; 
 The gleam of their snowy robes I see, 
 But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 291 
 
 There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, 
 
 And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue ; 
 He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 
 
 And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. 
 We saw not the angels who met him there ; 
 
 The gates of the city we could not see : 
 Over the river,' over the river, 
 
 My brother stands ready to welcome me I 
 
 Over the river the boatman pale 
 
 Carried another — the household pet : 
 Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale — 
 
 Darling Minnie ! I see her yet. 
 She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 
 
 And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ; 
 We watched it glide from the silver sands, 
 
 And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. 
 We know she is safe en the farther side, 
 
 Where all the ransomed and angels be : 
 Over the river, the mystic river, 
 
 My childhood's idol is waiting for me. 
 
 For none return from those quiet shores 
 
 Who cross with the boatman cold and pale • 
 We hear the dip of the golden oars, 
 
 And catch a gleam of the snowy sail, 
 And lo ! they have passed from our yearning heart ; 
 
 They cross the stream, and are gone for aye ; 
 We may not -sunder the veil apart 
 
 That hides from our vision the gates of day. 
 We only know that their barks no more 
 
 May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea ; 
 Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore 
 
 They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 
 
 And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 
 
 Is flushing river, and hill, and shore, 
 I shall one day stand by the water cold, 
 
 And list for the sound of the boatman's oar. 
 I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail ; 
 
 I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ; 
 I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale 
 
 To the better shore of the spirit land ; 
 I shall know the loved who have gone before ; 
 
 And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
 When over the river, the peaceful river, 
 
 The Angel cf Death shall carry me. 
 
292 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 YOUNG LOCHINVAR. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, 
 Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, 
 And save his good broadsword he weapons had none ; 
 He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 
 
 He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, 
 
 He swam the Esk River where ford there was none ; 
 
 But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
 
 The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
 
 For a laggard in love and a dastard in war 
 
 Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
 
 So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 
 'Mong bridemen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all. 
 Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword 
 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), 
 "Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
 Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" 
 
 " I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; 
 Love swells like the Sohvay, but ebbs like its tide ; 
 And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, 
 To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
 There be maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
 That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar. " 
 
 The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up, 
 He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup ; 
 She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
 With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
 He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar — 
 " Now tread we a measure !" said young Lochinvar. 
 
 So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
 
 That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 
 
 While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 
 
 And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 
 
 And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'Twere better by far 
 
 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 
 
 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 
 When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near, 
 
 So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 
 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung— 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 293 
 
 She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow, " quoth young Lochinvar. 
 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 
 Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 
 There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea, 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
 So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 
 
 THE INQUIRY. 
 
 Charles Mackat. 
 Tell me, ye winged winds, 
 
 That round my pathway roar, 
 Do you not know some spot 
 
 Where mortals weep no more ? 
 Some lone and pleasant dell — 
 
 Some valley in the West, 
 Where, free from toil and pain, 
 The weary soul may rest ? 
 (=*■) The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 
 And sighed for pity as it answered (>) " No !" 
 
 Tell me, thou mighty deep, 
 
 Whose billows round me play, 
 Knowest thou some favored spot — 
 
 Some island far away, 
 Where weary man may find 
 
 The bliss for which he sighs 
 Where sorrow never lives, 
 
 And friendship never dies ? 
 The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, 
 Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer (o) " No \ n 
 
 And thou, serenest moon, 
 
 That with such lovely face 
 Dost look upon the earth, 
 
 Asleep in night's embrace, 
 Tell me, in all thy round, 
 
 Hast thou not seen some spot 
 Where miserable man 
 
 Might find a happier lot 
 Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
 And a voice sweet, but sad, responded "No!" 
 
 Tell me, my secret soul — 
 Oh tell me, Hope and Faith, 
 
294 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Is there no resting-place 
 
 From sorrow, sin, and death ? 
 Is there no happy spot 
 
 Where mortals may be bless'd — 
 Where grief may find a balm, 
 And weariness a rest ? 
 Faith, Hope, and Love — best boons to mortals given — 
 Waved their bright wings, and whispered " Yes, in heaven !" 
 
 WOUNDED. 
 
 J. W. Watson. 
 
 Steady, boys, steady ! 
 
 Keep your arms ready ! 
 God only knows whom we may meet here. 
 
 Don't let me be taken ! 
 
 I'd rather awaken 
 To-morrow in — no matter where, 
 Than lie in that foul prison-hole — over there. 
 
 Step slowly ! 
 Speak lowly ! 
 
 These rocks may have life. 
 
 Lay me down in this hollow ; 
 
 We are out of the strife. 
 By heavens ! the foeman may track me in blood, 
 For this hole in my breast is outpouring a flood. 
 No ! no surgeon for me : he can give me no aid ; 
 The surgeon I want is a pickaxe and spade. 
 What, Morris, a tear ? why, shame on ye, man ! 
 I thought you a hero ; but since you've began 
 To whimper and cry, like a girl in her teens, 
 By George ! I don't know what it all means. 
 
 Well ! well ! I am rough ; 'tis a very rough school, 
 This life of a trooper — but yet I'm no fool ! 
 I know a brave man, and a friend from a foe ; 
 And, boys, that you love me, I certainly know. 
 
 But wasn't it grand, 
 When they came down the hill over sloughing and sand f 
 But we stood — did we not — like immovable rock, 
 Unheeding their balls and repelling their shock ? 
 
 Did you mind the loud ciy, 
 
 When, as turning to fly, 
 Our men sprang upon them, determined to die ? 
 
 Oh, wasn't it grand ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 295 
 
 God help the poor wretches that fell in the fight ; 
 
 No time was there given for prayer or for flight. ^ 
 
 They fell by the score, in the crash, hand to hand, 
 
 And they mingled their blood with the sloughing and sand. 
 
 Huzza ! 
 Great heavens ! this bullet-hole gapes like a grave. 
 A curse on the aim of the treacherous knave ! 
 Is there never a one of ye knows how to pray, 
 Or speak for a man as his life ebbs away ? 
 Tray! 
 
 Pray! 
 Our Father ! Our Father ! Why don't you proceed ? 
 Can't you see I am dying ? Great God, how I bleed ! 
 Ebbing away ! 
 
 Ebbing away ! 
 
 The light of day 
 Is turning to gray. 
 Pray! 
 
 Pray! 
 Our Father in Heaven — boys, tell me the rest, 
 While I stanch the hot blood from this hole in my breast. 
 There's something about forgiveness of sin — 
 Put that in ! put that in ! and then 
 I'll follow your words, and say an amen. 
 
 Here, Morris, old fellow! get hold of my hand ; 
 
 And Wilson, my comrade — oh, wasn't it grand, 
 
 When they came down the hill like a thunder-charged cloud, 
 
 And were scattered like dust by our brave little crowd ? — 
 
 Where's Wilson — my comrade — here, stoop down your head — 
 
 Can't you say a short prayer for the dying and dead ? 
 
 "Dear Christ, who died for sinners all, 
 
 Hear thou this suppliant wanderer's cry ; 
 Let not e'en this poor sparrow fall 
 
 Unheeded by thy gracious eye. 
 Throw wide thy gates to let him in, 
 
 And take him, pleading, to thy arms ; 
 Forgive, O Lord ! his life-long sin, 
 
 And quiet all his fierce alarms. " 
 
 God bless you, comrade, for singing that hymn ; 
 It is light to my path when my sight has grown dim. 
 I am dying — bend down till I touch you once more — 
 Don't forget me, old fellow ! God prosper this war ! 
 Confusion to enemies ! — keep hold of my hand — 
 And float our dear flag o'er a prosperous land ! 
 
296 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 WE MEET AND WE PART. 
 
 Prom "The Mystic Star." 
 
 There's a world where all are equal — 
 
 We are hurrying toward it fast — 
 We shall meet upon the level there 
 
 When the gates of death are pass'd. 
 We shall stand before the Orient, 
 
 And our Master will be there, 
 To try the blocks we offer 
 
 By his own unerring square. 
 We shall meet upon the level there, 
 
 But never thence depart ; 
 There's a mansion — 'tis all ready — 
 
 Por each faithful, trusting heart. 
 There's a mansion and a welcome ; 
 
 And a multitude are there 
 Who have met upon the level 
 
 And been tried upon the square. 
 Let us meet upon the level, then, 
 
 While laboring patient here ; 
 Let us meet and let us labor, 
 
 Though the labor be severe. 
 Already, in the western sky, 
 
 The signs bid us prepare 
 To gather up our working-tools 
 
 And part upon the square. 
 
 BABY BUNK 
 
 Josie H. 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 Brighter than the stars that rise 
 In the dusky evening skies ; 
 Browner than the robin's wing, 
 Clearer than the woodland spring, 
 Are the eyes of Baby Bunn — 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 
 Smile, mother, smile ! 
 Thinking softly all the while 
 
 Of a tender, blissful day, 
 When the dark eyes, so like these 
 Of the cherub on your knees, 
 
 Stole your girlish heart away. 
 Oh, the eyes of Baby Bunn ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 297 
 
 Rarest mischief will they do 
 When once old enough to steal 
 What their father stole from you ! 
 Smile, mother, smile ! 
 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 Milk-white lilies half unrolled, 
 Set in calyces of gold, 
 Can not make his forehead fair, 
 With its rings of yellow hair ! 
 Scarlet berry, cleft in twain 
 By a wedge of pearly grain, 
 Is the mouth of Baby Bunn — 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 Weep, mother, weep 
 For the little one asleep 
 
 With his head against your breast ! 
 Never in the coming years, 
 Though he seeks for it with tears, 
 
 Will he find so sweet a rest. 
 * Oh, the breath of Baby Bunn ! 
 Oh, the scarlet mouth of Bunn ! 
 One man wears its crown of thorns ; 
 Drink its cup of gall must one ! 
 Though the trembling lips shall shrink, 
 White with anguish, as they drink, 
 And the temple sweat with pain 
 Drops of blood, like purple rain — 
 , Weep, mother, weep ! 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 Not the sea- shell's palest tinge, 
 Not the daisy's rose-white fringe, 
 -Not the softest, faintest glow 
 Of the sunset on the snow, 
 Is more beautiful and sweet 
 Than the wee pink hands and feet 
 Of the little Baby Bunn— 
 
 Winsome Baby Bunn ! 
 Feet like these may lose the way, 
 
 Wandering blindly from the right ; 
 Pray, and sometimes will your prayers 
 Be to him like golden stairs 
 
 Built through darkness into light. 
 Oh, the dimpled feet of Bunn, 
 
 In their silken stockings dressed ! 
 Oh, the dainty hands of Bunn, 
 
 Hid like rose-leaves in your breast ! 
 IS T 2 
 
298 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 These will grasp at jewels rare, 
 But to find them empty air ; 
 Those will wander on the way — 
 Pray, mother, pray ! 
 
 DRIFTING. 
 
 T. B. Read. 
 
 My soul to-day 
 
 Is far away, 
 Sailing the Vesuvian Bay ; 
 
 My winged boat — 
 
 A bird afloat — 
 Swims round the purple peaks remote. 
 
 Round purple peaks 
 
 It sails, and seeks 
 Blue inlets and their crystal creeks, 
 
 Where high rocks throw 
 
 Through deeps below 
 A duplicated golden glow. 
 
 Far, vague, and dim 
 The mountains swim, 
 
 While on Vesuvius's misty brim 
 With outstretched handi 
 The gray smoke stands, 
 
 O'erlooking the volcanic lands. 
 
 Here Ischia smiles 
 
 O'er liquid miles ; * 
 And yonder, bluest of the isles, 
 
 Calm Capri waits, 
 
 Her sapphire gates 
 Beguiling to her bright estates. 
 
 I heed not if 
 
 My rippling skiff 
 Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff; 
 
 With dreamful eyes 
 
 My spirit lies 
 Under the walls of Paradise. 
 
 Under the walls 
 
 Where swells and falls 
 The bay's deep breast at intervals, 
 
 At peace I lie, 
 
 Blown softly by 
 A cloud upon this liquid sky. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 299 
 
 The day so mild 
 
 Is Heaven's own child, 
 With Earth and Ocean reconciled ; 
 
 The airs I feel 
 
 Around me steal 
 Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 
 
 Over the rail 
 
 My hand I trail 
 Within the shadow of the sail ; 
 
 A joy intense — 
 
 The cooling sense — 
 Glides down my drowsy indolence. 
 
 With dreamful eyes 
 
 My spirit lies 
 Where summer sings and never dies ; 
 
 O'erveiled with vines, 
 
 She glows and shines 
 Among her future oils and wines. 
 
 Her children hid 
 
 The cliffs amid, 
 Are gamboling with the gamboling kid, 
 
 Or down the walls, 
 
 With tipsy calls, 
 Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 
 
 The fisher's child, 
 
 With tresses wild, 
 Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 
 
 With glowing lips 
 
 Sings as she skips, 
 Or gazes at the far-off ship's. 
 
 Yon deep bark goes 
 
 Where Traffic blows 
 From lands of sun to lands of snows ; 
 
 This happier one 
 
 Its course is run 
 From lands of snow to lands of sun. 
 
 Oh happy ship, 
 
 To rise and dip 
 With the blue crystal at your lip ! 
 
 Oh happy crew, 
 
 My heart with you 
 Sails and sails, and sings anew ! 
 
300 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 No more, no more 
 
 The worldly shore 
 Upbraids me with its loud uproar ; 
 
 With dreamful eyes 
 
 My spirit lies 
 Under the walls of Paradise. 
 
 TO A MOUSE, 
 
 ON TURNING UP HER NEST WITH THE PLOW, 
 
 November, 1785. 
 
 Robert Burn& 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, 
 Oh what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
 
 Wi' bickering brattle ; 
 
 I wad be laith to rin and chase thee 
 
 Wi' murd'ring pattle ! 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 Has broken nature's social union, 
 And justifies that ill opinion 
 
 Which makes thee startle 
 At me, thy poor earth-born companion, 
 
 And fellow-mortal ! 
 
 I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ; 
 What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! 
 A daimen icker in a thrave 
 
 'S a sma' request : 
 I'll get a blessin' wi' the laive, 
 
 And never miss't ! 
 
 Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin, 
 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin', 
 And naething now to big a new ane 
 
 O' foggage green, 
 And bleak December's winds ensuin', 
 
 Baith snell and keen. 
 
 Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste, 
 And weary winter comin' fast, 
 And cozie here, beneath the blast, 
 
 Thou thought to dwell, 
 Till, crash ! the cruel coulter passed 
 
 Out through thy cell. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 301 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble 
 Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! 
 Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, 
 
 But house or hald, 
 To thole the winter's sleety dribble, 
 
 And cranreuch cauld ! 
 
 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
 In proving foresight may be vain : 
 The best-laid schemes o' mice and men 
 
 Gang aft a-gley, . 
 And lea'e us nought but grief and pain 
 
 For promised joy. 
 
 Still thou art bless'd compared wi' me ; 
 The present only toucheth thee ; 
 But, och ! I backward cast my ee 
 
 On prospects drear ; 
 And forward, though I canna see, 
 
 I guess and fear. 
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH. 
 
 Osborne. 
 
 Note. — In France, during the year 1762, a miser by the name of Foscue, 
 having amassed enormous wealth by extortion and parsimony, was request- 
 ed by the government to advance a sum of money as a loan. The miser re- 
 fused, pretending that he was poor. In order to hide his money, he dug a 
 deep cellar under his hut, the descent to which was by a ladder. To the 
 trap-door above he attached a spring-lock. He entered, one day, to gloat 
 over his gold ; the trap-door fell, the spring-lock snapped, and he died mis- 
 erably. 
 
 So, so ! all safe ! Come forth, my pretty sparklers ! 
 
 Come forth, and feast my eyes ! Be not afraid ! 
 
 No keen-eyed agent of the government 
 
 Can see you here. They wanted me, forsooth, 
 
 To lend you, at the lawful rate of usance, 
 
 For the state's needs. Ha! ha! my shining pets, 
 
 My yellow darlings, my sweet golden circlets ! 
 
 Too well I loved you to do that ; and so 
 
 I pleaded poverty, and none could prove 
 
 My story was not true. 
 
 Ha ! could they see 
 These bags of ducats, and that precious pile 
 Of ingots, and those bars of solid gold, 
 Their eyes, methinks, would water. What a comfort 
 
302 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Is it to see my moneys in a heap, 
 
 All safely lodged under my very roof! 
 
 Here's a fat bag— let me untie the mouth of it. 
 
 What eloquence ! What beauty ! What expression ! 
 
 Could Cicero so plead ? Could Helen look 
 
 One half so charming ? ( The trap-door falls.) 
 
 Ah ! what sound was that ? 
 The trap-door fallen ? and the spring-lock caught ? 
 Well, have I not the key ? Of course I have ! 
 'Tis in this pocket. No. In this? No. Then 
 I left it at the bottom of the ladder. 
 Ha ! 'tis not there. Where, then ? Ah ! mercy, Heaven ! 
 'Tis in the lock outside ! 
 
 What's to be done ? 
 Help, help ! Will no one hear ? Oh, would that I 
 Had not discharged old Simon ! but he begged 
 Each week for wages — would not give me credit. 
 I'll try my strength upon the door. Despair ! 
 I might as soon uproot the eternal rocks 
 As force it open. Am I here a prisoner, 
 And no one in the house— no one at hand, 
 Or likely soon to be, to hear my cries ? 
 Am I entombed alive ? Horrible fate ! 
 I sink — I faint beneath the bare conception ! (Swoons.) 
 
 (Awakes.) Darkness! Where am I? I remember now: 
 This is a bag of ducats — 'tis no dream — 
 No dream ! The trap-door fell, and here am I, 
 Immured with my dear gold — my candle out — 
 All gloom — all silence — all despair ! What ho ! 
 Friends ! Friends ? I have no friends. What right have I 
 To use the name ? These money-bags have been 
 The only friends I've cared for, and for these 
 I've toiled, and pinched, and screwed, shutting my heart 
 To charity, humanity, and love ! 
 
 Detested traitors ! since I gave you all — 
 Ay, gave my very soul— can ye do naught 
 For me in this extremity? Ho ! without there! 
 A thousand ducats for a loaf of bread ! 
 Ten thousand ducats for a glass of water ! 
 A pile of ingots for a helping hand ! 
 Was that a laugh ? Ay, 'twas a fiend that laughed 
 To see a miser in the grip of death ! 
 
 Offended Heaven, have mercy ! I will give 
 In alms all this vile rubbish ; aid me thou 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 303 
 
 In this most dreadful strait ! I'll build a church — 
 A hospital ! Vain, vain ! Too late, too late ! 
 Heaven knows the miser's heart too well to trust him ! 
 Heaven will not hear — why should it ? What have I 
 Done to enlist Heaven's favor ? — to help on 
 Heaven's cause on earth, in human hearts and homes ? 
 Nothing! God's kingdom will not come the sooner 
 For any work or any prayer of mine. 
 
 But must I die here — in my own trap caught? 
 Die — die ? and then ! Oh mercy ! grant me time — 
 Thou who canst save — grant me a little time, 
 And I'll redeem the past — undo the evil 
 That I have done — make thousands happy with 
 This hoarded treasure — do thy will on earth 
 As it is done in heaven — grant me but time ! 
 Nor man nor God will hear my shrieks ! All's lost ! 
 
 LITTLE BENNY. 
 A Christmas Carol. 
 
 I had told him Christmas morning, 
 
 As he sat upon my knee, . 
 Holding fast his little stockings, 
 
 Stuffed as full as full could be, 
 And attentive, listening to me, 
 
 With a face demure and mild, 
 That old Santa Claus, who filled them, 
 
 Did not love a naughty child. 
 
 "But we'll be dood, won't we, moder ?" 
 
 And from off my lap he slid, 
 Digging deep among the goodies 
 
 In his crimson stockings hid, 
 While I turned me to my table, 
 
 Where a tempting goblet stood, 
 Brimming high with dainty custard 
 
 Sent me by a neighbor good. 
 
 But the kitten, there before me, 
 
 With his white paw, nothing loth, 
 Sat, by way of entertainment, 
 
 Slapping off the shining froth ; 
 And, in not the gentlest humor 
 
 At the loss of such a treat, 
 I confess I rather rudely 
 
 Thrust him out into the street. 
 
304 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Then how Benny's blue eyes kindled ! 
 
 Gathering up the precious store 
 He had busily been pouring 
 
 In his tiny pinafore, 
 With a generous look that shamed me, 
 
 Sprang he from the carpet bright, 
 Showing, by his mien indignant, 
 
 All a baby's sense of right. 
 
 11 Come back, Harney !" called he, loudly, 
 
 As he held his apron white, 
 " You sail have my candy wabbit !" 
 
 But the door was fastened tight ; 
 So he stood, abashed and silent, 
 
 In the centre of the floor, 
 With defeated look alternate 
 
 Bent on me and on the door. 
 
 Then, as by some sudden impulse, 
 
 Quickly ran he to the fire, 
 And while eagerly his bright eyes 
 
 Watched the flames grow higher, higher 
 In a brave, clear key he shouted, 
 
 Like some lordly little elf, 
 " Santa Kaus, tome down de chimney; 
 
 Make my moder 'have herself!" 
 
 " I will be a good girl, Benny, " 
 
 Said I, feeling the reproof; 
 And straightway recalled poor Harney, 
 
 Mewing on the gallery roof. 
 Soon the anger was forgotten, 
 
 Laughter chased away the frown, 
 And they gamboled 'neath the live-oaks 
 
 Till the dusky night came down. 
 
 In my dim, fire-lighted chamber 
 
 Harney purred beneath my chair, 
 And my play-worn boy beside me 
 
 Knelt to say his evening prayer : 
 " God bess fader, God bess moder, 
 
 God bess sister" — then a pause, 
 And the sweet young lips devoutly 
 
 Murmured, " God bess Santa Kaus." 
 
 He is sleeping ; brown and silken 
 Lie the lashes, long and meek, 
 
 Like caressing, clinging shadows, 
 On his plump and peachy cheek ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 305 
 
 And I bend above him, weeping 
 
 Thankful tears, O Undefiled ! 
 For a woman's crown of glory — 
 
 For the blessing of a child. 
 
 IVRY. 
 
 Thomas Babington Macaulat. 
 Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! 
 And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre' ! 
 Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance 
 Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France ! 
 And thou, RochSlle', our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 
 Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy murmuring daughters ; 
 As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
 For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war ! 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. 
 Oh ! how our hearts were beating when, at the dawn of day, 
 We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array, 
 With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 
 And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. 
 There rode the brood of false Lorraine', the curses of our land ; 
 And dark Mayenne' was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; 
 And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, 
 And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; 
 And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, 
 To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 
 
 The king is come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed, 
 
 And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 
 
 He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; 
 
 He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. 
 
 Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 
 
 Down all our line, a deafening shout — "God save our lord the king!" 
 
 "And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may — 
 
 For never I saw promise yet of such a bloody fray — 
 
 Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war, 
 
 And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." 
 
 Hurrah ! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din 
 
 Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin. 
 
 The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain, 
 
 With all the hireling chivalry of GueTders and Almayne'. 
 
 Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
 
 Charge for the golden lilies — upon them with the lance ! 
 
 A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 
 
 A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; 
 
306 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, 
 Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 
 Now, God be praised, the day is ours : Mayenne hath turned his rein ; 
 D'Aumale hath cried for quarter, the Flemish count is slain ; 
 Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; 
 The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. 
 And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, 
 ''Remember Saint Bartholomew!" was passed from man to man. 
 But out spake gentle Henry : " No Frenchman is my foe ; 
 Down — down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go." 
 Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, 
 As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ? 
 
 Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France to-day, 
 
 And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. 
 
 But we of the religion have borne us best in fight ; 
 
 And the good Lord of Ros'ny hath ta'en the cornet white — 
 
 Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en, 
 
 The cornet white, with crosses black, the flag of false Lorraine. 
 
 Up with it high ; unfurl it wide, that all the host may know [woe. 
 
 How God hath humbled the proud house which wrought his church such 
 
 Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest point of war, 
 
 Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of Navarre. 
 
 Ho ! maidens of ViSn'na ; ho ! matrons of Lucerne' — 
 
 Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. 
 
 Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, 
 
 That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. 
 
 Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ; 
 
 Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night ; 
 
 For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, 
 
 And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of the brave. 
 
 Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are, 
 
 And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! 
 
 AUCTION EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 Lucretia Davidson, 
 I dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers, 
 And as fast as I dreamed it was coined into numbers ; 
 My thoughts ran along in such beautiful metre, 
 I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter. 
 It seemed that a law had been recently made 
 That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid ; 
 And, in order to make them all willing to marry, 
 The tax was as large as a man could well carry. 
 The bachelors grumbled, and said 'twas no use — 
 'Twas a horrid injustice and horrid abuse, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 307 
 
 And declared that, to save their own heart's-blood from spilling, 
 
 Of such a vile tax they would not pay a shilling. 
 
 But the rulers determined them still to pursue, 
 
 So they set all the bachelors up at vendue ; 
 
 A crier was sent through the town to and fro, 
 
 To rattle his bell and his trumpet to blow, 
 
 And to call out to all he might meet in his way, 
 
 "Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day." 
 
 And presently all the old maids of the town, 
 
 Each in her very best bonnet and gown, 
 
 From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red, and pale, 
 
 Of every description, all nocked to the sale. 
 
 The auctioneer then in his labors began, 
 
 And called out aloud, as he held up a man, 
 
 " How much for a bachelor — who wants to buy ?" 
 
 In a twink every maiden responded " I — I !" 
 
 In short, at a highly extravagant price, 
 
 The bachelors all were sold off in a trice ; 
 
 And forty old maidens, some younger, some older, 
 
 Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder. 
 
 THE GAIN OF LOSS. 
 
 [From "Hymns of Hope and Faith."] 
 
 HORATIUS BONAR, D.D. 
 
 "Nay, give me back my blossoms!" 
 
 Said the palm-tree to the Nile ; 
 But the stream passed on, unheeding, 
 
 With its old familiar smile. 
 " Give back my golden ringlets /" 
 
 Said the palm-tree to the Nile ; 
 But the stream swept on in silence, 
 
 With its dimple and its smile. 
 With its dimple and its smile it passed— 
 
 With its dimple and its smile, 
 All heedless of the palm's low wail, 
 
 That sunny, sunny Nile ! 
 By Rodah's island-garden, 
 
 With its ripple and its smile ; 
 By Shfibra's mystic hedgerows 
 
 It swept, that glorious Nile ! 
 By Gizeh's great palm-forest 
 
 It flashed its stately smile — 
 By Bulak's river-harbor, 
 
 That old, majestic Nile ! 
 
308 MANUAL OF "READING. 
 
 By pyramid and palace, 
 
 With its never-ending smile ; 
 
 By tomb, and mosque, and mazar, 
 It flowed, that mighty Nile ! 
 
 . " Come, give me back my blossoms," 
 Sighed the palm-tree to the Nile ; 
 But the river flowed unheeding, 
 With its soft and silver smile. 
 
 With its soft and silver smile it flowed, 
 With its soft and silver smile, 
 
 All heedless of the palm-tree's sigh, 
 That strange, long- wandering Nile ! 
 
 It seemed to say, ' ' 'Tis better far 
 To leave your flowers to me ; 
 
 I will bear their yellow beauty on 
 To the wondering, wondering sea. 
 
 " 'Tis better they should float away 
 
 Upon my dusky wave, 
 Than find upon their native stem 
 
 A useless home and grave. 
 
 " If your sweet flowers remain with yon. 
 Fruitless your boughs must be ; 
 
 'Tis their departure brings the fruit. 
 Give your bright flowers to me. 
 
 "Nay, ask not back your blossoms," 
 To the palm-tree said the Nile ; 
 
 "Let me keep them," said the river, 
 With its sweet and sunny smile. 
 
 And the palm gave up its blossoms 
 To its friend so wise and old, 
 
 And saw them, all unsighing, 
 Float down the river's gold. 
 
 The amber tresses vanished, 
 And the clear spring-fragrance fled, 
 
 But the welcome fruit in clusters 
 Came richly up instead. 
 
 'Tis thus we gain by losing, 
 And win by failure here ; 
 
 We doff the gleaming tinsel, 
 The golden crown to wear. 
 
 Our sickness is our healing, 
 Our weakness is our might j 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS, 309 
 
 Life is but Death's fair offspring, 
 And Day the child of Night. 
 
 'Tis thus we rise by setting — 
 
 Through darkness reach our day 5 
 Our own way hourly losing, 
 
 To find the eternal way. 
 'Tis by defeat we conquer — 
 
 Grow rich by growing poor; 
 And from our largest givings 
 
 We draw our fullest store. 
 
 Then let the blossoms perish, 
 
 And let the fragrance go ; 
 All the surer and the larger 
 
 Is the harvest we shall know. 
 
 All the sweeter and the louder 
 
 Our song of harvest-home, 
 When earth's ripe autumn smileth, 
 
 And the reaping-day has come. 
 
 ' THE FIKEMAN. 
 
 E. T. CONRAH 
 
 The city slumbers. O'er its mighty walls 
 Night's dusky mantle soft and silent foils ; 
 Sleep o'er the world slow waves its wand of lead, 
 And ready torpors wrap each sinking head. 
 Stilled is the stir of labor and of life ; 
 Hushed is the hum, and tranquillized the strife. 
 Man is at rest, with all his hopes and fears ; 
 The young forget their sports, the old their cares j 
 The grave are careless ; those who joy or weep, 
 All rest contented on the arm of sleep. 
 
 Sweet is the pillowed rest of beauty now, 
 And slumber smiles upon her tranquil brow ; 
 Her bright dreams lead her to the moonlit tide, 
 Ijler heart's own partner wandering by her side. 
 'Tis a summer's eve : the soft gales scarcely rouse 
 The low-voiced ripple and the rustling boughs ; 
 And faint and far, some minstrel's melting tone 
 Breathes to her heart a music like its own. 
 
 (as/>.) When, hark ! oh horror! what a crash is there ! 
 
 What shriek is that which fills the midnight air? 
 (JT-) Tis "Fire ! fire !"' She wakes to dream no more! 
 
 The hot blast rushes through the blazing door ! 
 
31.0 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 The dim smoke eddies round ; and hark ! that cry ! 
 (/.) "Help! help! Will no one aid ? I die— I die!" 
 
 She seeks the casement ; shuddering at its height, 
 
 She turns again ; the fierce flames mock her flight ; 
 
 Along the crackling stairs they fiercely play, 
 
 And roar, exulting, as they seize their prey. 
 (/■.) "Help! help! Will no one come ?" She says no more, 
 
 But, pale and breathless, sinks upon the floor. 
 
 Will no one save thee ? Yes, there yet is one 
 
 Remains to save, when hope itself is gone ; 
 
 When all have fled — when all but he would fly, 
 
 The fireman comes to rescue or to die ! 
 
 He mounts the stair— it wavers 'neath his tread ; 
 
 He seeks the room — flames flashing round his head ; 
 
 He bursts the door, he lifts her prostrate frame, 
 
 And turns again to brave the raging flame. 
 
 The fire-blast smites him with its stifling breath, 
 
 The falling timbers menace him with death, 
 
 The sinking floors his hurried steps betray, 
 
 And ruin crashes round his desperate way ; 
 
 Hot smoke obscures — ten thousand cinders rise^ 
 
 Yet still he staggers forward with his prize. 
 (/.) He leaps from burning stair to stair. On ! on ! 
 
 Courage ! One effort more, and all is won ! 
 
 The stair is passed— the blazing hall is braved ! 
 (/.) Still on ! Yet on ! Once more ! Thank Heaven, she's saved ! 
 
 THE PICKET-GUAKD. 
 
 "All quiet along the Potomac," they 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 a 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 the stars up above, with their glittering eyes, 
 
 Keep guard, for the army is sleeping. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 311 
 
 There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread 
 
 As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, 
 And 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, 
 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 face, 
 
 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 footstep is lagging and weaiy ; 
 Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, 
 
 Toward the shade of the forest so dreaiy. 
 Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves ? 
 
 Was it moonlight so wond'rously flashing ? 
 It looked like a rifle : " Ha ! Mary, good-by," 
 
 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. 
 
 JESUS' SEAT.* 
 
 Miss F. Eastwood. 
 Far, far away o'er the deep blue sea 
 Lived a man who was kind as kind could be. 
 He loved little children, and spread every day 
 A table from which none went empty away. 
 Poor children came in from the alley and street, 
 With rags on their backs, and no shoes on their feet ; 
 Girls and boys, large and small, some naughty and rude, 
 But John Falk loved them all and did them all good. 
 And while they were eating, he often would tell 
 Of the Lord Jesus Christ, who on earth did once dwell ; 
 How he loved little children—each one of them there 
 He was watching from heaven with tenderest care — 
 * Published by the American Tract Society. 
 
312 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And how happy and blessed would be the child's part 
 
 Who would let that dear Savior come dwell in his heart. 
 
 Each day, when the children assembled to eat, 
 
 He taught them to offer this grace for their meat : 
 
 "Bless, Jesus, the food thou hast given us to-day, 
 
 And come and sup with us, dear Jesus, we pray." 
 
 But once, when the children had finished this prayer, 
 
 One poor little fellow stood still by his chair 
 
 For a moment, then ran to the closet where stood 
 
 The bright cups of tin and the platters of wood. 
 
 "Now what is the matter ?" said Falk to the child. 
 
 The little one looked in his kind face, and smiled : 
 
 " We asked the Lord Jesus just now, in our grace, 
 
 To sup with us here, but we've given him no place. 
 
 If he should come in, how sad it would be ! 
 
 But I'll put him a stool close here beside me." 
 
 Then the boy, quite contented, sat down to his food; 
 
 He was hungry and tired, and his supper was good. 
 
 But a few moments after, he heard at the door 
 
 A knock low and timid — one knock, and no more. 
 
 He started to open it, hoping to meet 
 
 The Lord Jesus Christ come to look for his seat ; 
 
 But when it was open, he no one could see 
 
 But a poor little child much poorer than he; 
 
 His face blue with hunger ; his garments, so old, 
 
 Were dripping with rain ; and he shivered with cold. 
 
 " Come in !" cried the boy, in a tone of delight ; 
 
 " I suppose the Lord Christ could not come here to-night. 
 
 Though we asked him to come and partake of our bread, 
 
 So he's just sent you down to us here in his stead. 
 
 The supper is good, and we'll each give you some, 
 
 And tell the Lord Christ we are glad you have come." 
 
 From that time, when the children assembled to eat, 
 
 There was always one place called " the Lord Jesus' seat ; ?s 
 
 And the best that they had was placed there each day 
 
 For one who was poorer and hungrier than they. 
 
 And the Lord Jesus Christ, in reply to their grace, 
 
 Sent always some person to sit in his place ; 
 
 And sweet was the food that the Lord did provide 
 
 For the stranger he sent them to eat at their side. 
 
 Dear friends, who have heard this short story, yon know 
 
 The words that our Savior once spake when below : 
 
 If we wish for his presence to hallow our bread, 
 
 We must welcome the stranger he sends in his stead. 
 
 When we set out our feasts, this our motto must be, 
 
 "As ye do to my poor, ye have done unto me !" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 313 
 
 ABOU BEN ADHEM. 
 
 Leigh Hunt. 
 Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
 And saw within the moonlight in his room, 
 Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
 An angel writing in a book of gold : 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
 And to the Presence in the room he said, 
 " What writest thou ?" The vision raised its head, 
 And, with a look made of all sweet accord, 
 Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." 
 " And is mine one ?" said Abou. " Nay, not so," 
 Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
 But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, 
 Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 
 The angel wrote, and vanish 'd. The next night 
 It came again, with a great wakening light, 
 And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, 
 And, lo ! Ben Adhem 's name led all the rest. 
 
 DORA. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 With Farmer Allan at the farm abode 
 William and Dora. William was his son, 
 And she his niece. He often look'd at them, 
 And often thought "I'll make them man and wife." 
 Now Dora felt her uncle's will in all, 
 And yearn'd towards William ; but the youth, because 
 He had been always with her in the house, 
 Thought not of Dora. 
 
 Then there came a day 
 When Allan call'd his son, and said, * ' My son, 
 I married late, but I would wish to see 
 My grandchild on my knees before I die : 
 And I have set my heart upon a match. 
 Now therefore look to Dora ; she is well 
 To look to ; thrifty too beyond her age. 
 She is my brother's daughter : he and I 
 Had once hard words, and parted, and he died 
 In foreign lands ; but for his sake I bred 
 His daughter Dora ; take her for your wife ; 
 For I have wish'd this marriage, night and day, 
 
 o 
 
314 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 For many years. " But William answer' d short : 
 " I can not marry Dora ; by my life, 
 
 I will not marry Dora." Then the old man 
 Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and said, 
 
 II You will not, boy ! you dare to answer thus ! 
 But in my time a father's word was law, 
 And so it shall be now for me. Look to it : 
 Consider, William : take a month to think, 
 And let me have an answer to my wish, 
 
 Or, by the Lord that made me, you shall pack, 
 And never more darken my doors again." 
 But William answered madly ; bit his lips, 
 And broke away. The more he looked at her 
 The less he liked her ; and his ways were harsh ; 
 But Dora bore them meekly. Then before 
 The month was out he left his father's house, 
 And hired himself to work within the fields ; 
 And half in love, half spite, he wooed and wed 
 A laborer's daughter, Mary Morrison. 
 
 Then, when the bells were ringing, Allan call'd 
 His niece and said, " My girl, I love you well ; 
 But if you speak with him that was my son, 
 Or change a word with her he calls his wife, 
 My home is none of yours. My will is law." 
 And Dora promised, being meek. She thought, 
 " It can not be : my uncle's mind will change 1" 
 
 And days went on, and there was born a boy 
 To William ; then distresses came on him ; 
 And day by day he passed his father's gate, 
 Heart-broken, and his father helped him not. 
 But Dora stored what little she could save, 
 And sent it them by stealth, nor did they know 
 Who sent it ; till at last a fever seized 
 On William, and in harvest-time he died. 
 
 Then Dora went to Mary. Mary sat 
 And looked with tears upon her boy, and thought 
 Hard things of Dora. Dora came and said, 
 " I have obeyed my uncle until now, 
 And I have sinned, for it was all through me 
 This evil came on William at the first. 
 But, Mary, for the sake of him that's gone, 
 And for your sake, the woman that he chose, 
 And for this orphan, I am come to you : 
 You know there has not been for these five years 
 So full a harvest : let me take the boy, 
 And I will set him in my uncle's eye 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 315 
 
 Among the wheat ; that when his heart is glad 
 
 Of the full harvest, he may see the boy, 
 
 And bless him for the sake of him that's gone." 
 
 And Dora took the child, and went her way 
 Across the wheat, and sat upon a mound 
 That was unsown, where many poppies grew. 
 Far off the farmer came into the field 
 And spied her not ; but none of all his men 
 Dare tell him Dora waited with the child ; 
 And Dora would have risen and gone to him, 
 But her heart failed her ; and the reapers reaped, 
 And the sun fell, and all the land was dark. 
 
 But when the morrow came, she rose and took 
 The child once more, and sat upon the mound ; 
 And made a little wreath of all the flowers 
 That grew about, and tied it round his hat, 
 To make him pleasing in her uncle's eye. 
 Then, when the farmer passed into the field, 
 He spied her, and he left his men at work, 
 And came and said, " Where were you yesterday? 
 Whose child is that ? What are you doing here ?" 
 So Dora cast her eyes upon the ground, 
 And answer'd softly, " This is William's child!'* 
 "And did I not," said Allan, "did I not 
 Forbid you, Dora ?" Dora said again, 
 " Do with me as you will, but take the child, 
 And bless him for the sake of him that's gone ! " 
 And Allan said, " I see it is a trick 
 Got up betwixt you and the woman there. 
 I must be taught my duty, and by you ! 
 You knew my word was law, and yet you dared 
 To slight it. Well— for I will take the boy ; 
 But go you hence, and never see me more." 
 
 So saying, he took the boy, that cried aloud 
 And struggled hard. The wreath of flowers fell 
 At Dora's feet. She bowed upon her hands, 
 And the boy's cry came to her from the field, 
 More and more distant. She bowed down her head, 
 Bemembering the day when first she came, 
 And all the things that had been. She bowed down 
 And wept in secret ; and the reapers reaped, 
 And the sun fell, And all the land was dark. 
 
 Then Dora went to Mary's house, and stood 
 Upon the threshold. Mary saw the boy 
 Was not with Dora. She broke out in praise 
 To God, that helped her in her widowhood. 
 
316 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 And Dora said, *' My uncle took the boy ; 
 But, Mary, let me live and work with you : 
 He says that he will never see me more." 
 Then answered Mary, " This shall never be, 
 That thou shouldst take my trouble on thyself; 
 And, now I think, he shall not have the boy, 
 For he will teach him hardness, and to slight 
 His mother ; therefore thou and I will go, 
 And I will have my boy, and bring him home ; 
 And I will beg of him to take thee back ; 
 But if he will not take thee back again, 
 Then thou and I will live within one house, 
 And work for William's child until he grows 
 Of age to help us." 
 
 So the women kiss'd 
 Each other, and set out, and reached the farm, 
 The door was off the latch : they peeped, and saw 
 The boy set up betwixt his grandsire's knees, 
 Who thrust him in the hollows of his arm, 
 And clapped him on the hands and on the cheeks, 
 Like one that loved him ; and the lad stretched oui 
 And babbled for the golden seal that hung 
 From Allan's watch, and sparkled by the fire. 
 Then they came in ; but when the boy beheld 
 His mother, he cried out to come to her ; 
 And Allan sat him down, and Mary said, 
 
 " Oh father — if you let me call you so — 
 I never came a-begging for myself, x 
 Or William, or this child ; but now I come 
 For Dora : take her back ; she loves you well. 
 Oh sir, when William died, he died at peace 
 With all men f for I asked him, and he said 
 He could not ever rue his marrying me. 
 I had been a patient wife ; but, sir, he said 
 That he was wrong to cross his father thus : 
 * God bless him !' he said, ' and may he never know 
 The troubles I have gone through ! ' Then he turned 
 His face and passed — unhappy that I am ! 
 But now, sir, let me have my boy, for you 
 Will make him hard, and he will leam to slight 
 His father's memory ; and take Dora back, 
 And let all this be as it was before." 
 
 So Mary said, and Dora hid her face 
 By Mary. There was silence in the room ; 
 And all at once the old man burst in sobs : 
 
 "I have been to blame—to blame. I have killed my son. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. SI*/ 
 
 I have killed him — but I loved him — my dear son! 
 May God forgive me ! — I have been to blame. 
 Kiss me, my children." 
 
 Then they clung about 
 The old man's neck, and kissed him many times. 
 And all the man was broken with remorse ; 
 And all his love came back a hundred fold ; 
 And for three hours he sobbed o'er William's child, 
 Thinking of William. 
 
 So those four abode 
 Within one house together ; and as years 
 Went forward, Mary took another mate ; 
 "Sut Dora lived unmarried till her death. 
 
 THE BUGLE SONG. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 The splendor falls on castle walls, 
 
 And snowy summits old in story ; 
 The long light shakes across the lakes, 
 And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
 j$low, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ; 
 Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 
 
 Oh hark ! oh hear ! how thin and clear, 
 
 And thinner, clearer, farther going ; 
 Oh sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 
 The horns of Elfland faintly blowing. 
 Blow ! let us hear the purple glens replying ; 
 Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 
 
 Oh love, they die in yon rich sky, 
 
 They faint on hill, on field, on river ; 
 Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
 And grow forever and forever. 
 Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ; 
 And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 
 
 LITTLE GRETCHEN. 
 
 From the German. 
 Little Gretchen, little Gretchen wanders up and down the street ; 
 The snow is on her yellow hair, the frost is at her feet. 
 The rows of long, dark houses without look cold and damp 
 By the struggling of the moonbeam, by the flicker 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. 
 
518 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 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, thin tattered mantle the wind blows every way, 
 She clingeth to the railing, she shivers in the gloom — 
 There are parents sitting snugly by 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 cold wall, and on the colder sky, 
 And wonders if the little stars are bright fires up on high. 
 She hears a clock strike slowly, up in a far 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, and desolate and 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 !" 
 
 Colder it grows and colder, but she does not feel it now, 
 For the pressure at her heart, and the weight upon her brow 5 
 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 little Gretchen the wall was rent in two ; 
 And she could see folks seated at a table richly spread, 
 With heaps of goodly viands, red wine and pleasant bread. 
 
 She could smell the fragrant savor, she could hear what they did say, 
 Then all was darkness once again — the match had burned away. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 319 
 
 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 Gretchen come with me?" 
 
 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, O Lord!" 
 
 The chilly winter morning breaks up in the dull skies 
 
 On the city wrapped in vapor, on the spot where Gretchen lies. 
 
 In her scant and tattered garment, 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?" 
 
 And they shivered as they spoke of her, and sighed. They could not see 
 
 How much of happiness there was after that misery. 
 
 THERE'S BUT ONE PAIR OF STOCKINGS TO MEND 
 TO-NIGHT. 
 
 An old wife sat by her bright fireside, 
 
 Swaying thoughtfully to and fro, 
 In an ancient 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 fire of his pipe went out ; 
 And, unheeded, the kitten, with cunning paws, 
 
 Rolled out and tangled the balls about ; 
 
320 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Yet still sat the wife in the ancient chair, 
 Swaying to and fro in the firelight glare. 
 But anon a misty tear-drop came 
 
 In her eye 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, 
 The good man saw naught but the dimmed eye-beam. 
 Yet marveled he much that the cheerful light 
 
 Of her eye had weary grown, 
 And marveled he more at the tangled balls : 
 
 So he said, in a gentle tone, 
 U 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 can not but think of the busy feet 
 
 Whose wrappings were wont to lay 
 In the basket, awaiting the needle's time — 
 
 Now wandered so far away ; 
 How the sprightly steps, to a mother dear, 
 Unheeded fall on the careless ear. 
 For each empty nook in the basket old, 
 
 By the hearth there's an empty 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 fairest gold ; 
 Then my 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 back no voice but the moan of the sea. 
 
MISOELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 321 
 
 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 fireside bright ; 
 Some other baskets their garments fill — 
 But mine ! oh ! mine is emptier still. 
 Another — the 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, 
 While I mend the one pair of stockings to-night. 
 
 THE STAELESS CROWN.* 
 
 " They that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars forever anfl 
 ever."— Dan. xii., 3. 
 
 Wearied and worn with earthly cares, I yielded to repose, 
 And soon before my raptured sight a glorious vision rose : 
 I thought, while slumbering on my couch in midnight's solemn gloom, 
 I heard an angel's silvery voice, and radiance filled my room. 
 A gentle touch awakened me ; a gentle whisper said, 
 "Arise, oh sleeper ; follow me ;" and through the air we fled. 
 We left the earth so far away that like a speck it seemed, 
 And heavenly glory, calm and pure, across our pathway streamed. 
 Still on we went ; my soul was rapt in silent ecstasy : 
 I wondered what the end would be, what next should meet mine eye. 
 I knew not how we journeyed through the pathless field of light, 
 When suddenly a change was wrought, and I was clothed in white. 
 We stood before a city's walls most glorious to behold ; 
 We passed through gates of glistening pearl, o'er streets of purest gold ; 
 It needed not the sun by day, the silver moon by night ; 
 The glory of the Lord was there, the Lamb himself its light. 
 Bright angels paced the shining streets, sweet music filled the air, 
 And white-robed saints, with glittering crowns, from every clime were there 
 And some that I had loved on earth stood with them round the throne, 
 "All worthy is the Lamb," they sang, " the glory his alone." 
 But fairer far than all besides, I saw my Savior's face ; 
 And as I gazed he smiled on me with wondrous love and grace. 
 Lowly I bowed before his throne, o'erjoyed that I at last 
 Had gained the object of my hopes ; that earth at length was past. 
 And then in solemn tones he said, "Where is the diadem 
 That ought to sparkle on thy brow — adorned with many a gem ? 
 I know thou hast believed on me, and life through me is thine ; 
 But where are all those radiant stars that in thy crown should shine ? 
 * Pablished by the American Tract Society. 
 02 
 
322 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Yonder thou seest a glorious throng, and stars on every brow ; 
 For every soul they led to me they wear a jewel now. 
 And such thy bright reward had been if such had been thy deed, 
 If thou hadst sought some wandering feet in paths of peace to lead. 
 Thou wert not called that thou shouldst tread the way of life alone, 
 But that the clear and shining light which round thy footsteps shone 
 Should guide some other weary feet to my bright home of rest, 
 And thus, in blessing those around, thou hadst thyself been blest." 
 
 * ******** 
 
 The vision faded from my sight, the voice no longer spake, 
 A spell seemed brooding o'er my soul which long I feared to break, 
 And when at last I gazed around in morning's glimmering light, 
 My spirit felt o'erwhelmed beneath that vision's awful might. 
 I rose and wept with chastened joy that yet I dwelt below, 
 That yet another hour was mine my faith by works to show ; 
 That yet some sinner I might tell of Jesus' dying love, 
 And help to lead some weary soul to seek * home above. 
 And now, while on the earth I stay, my motto this shall be, 
 " To live no longer to myself, but Him who died for me." 
 And graven on my inmost soul this word of truth divine, 
 " THey that turn many to the Lord bright as the stars shall shine." 
 
 ONLY WAITING. 
 [A very aged man, in an alms-house, was asked what lie was doing now. 
 He replied, " Only waiting."] 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown ; 
 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's last beam is flown ; 
 Till the night of earth is faded 
 
 From the heart once full of day ; 
 Till the stars of heaven are breaking 1 
 Through the twilight soft and gray. 
 
 Only waiting till the reapers 
 
 Have the last sheaf gathered home, 
 For the summer-time is faded, 
 
 And the autumn winds have come. 
 Quickly, reapers ! gather quickly 
 
 The last ripe hours of my heart ; 
 For the bloom of life is withered, 
 
 And I hasten to depart. 
 Only waiting till the angels 
 
 Open wide the mystic gate, 
 Where I so long have lingered 
 
 Weary, poor, and desolate. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 323 
 
 Even now I hear the footsteps, 
 
 And their voices far away ; 
 If they call me, I am waiting — 
 
 Only waiting to obey. 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown ; 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's last beam is flown ; 
 Then from out the gathering darkness 
 
 Holy, deathless stars shall rise, 
 By whose light my soul shall gladly 
 
 Tread its pathway to the skies. 
 
 "I'M MUSTERED OUT." 
 Just here, in the shade of this cannon-torn tree, 
 Here, low on the trampled grass, where I may see 
 The surge of the combat, and where I may hear 
 The glad cry of victory, cheer upon cheer, 
 
 Let me lie down. 
 
 — Oh, it was grand ! 
 Like the tempest we charged, in the triumph to share! 
 The tempest — its fury and thunder were there ; 
 On, on, o'er intrenchments, o'er living and dead, 
 With the foe under foot, and our flag overhead : 
 Oh, it was grand ! 
 
 Weary and faint, 
 Prone on the soldier's couch, ah ! how can I rest 
 With this shot-shattered head and sabre-pierced breast ? 
 Comrades, at roll-call, when I shall be sought, 
 Say I fought till I fell, and fell where I fought — 
 
 Wounded and faint. 
 
 Oh, that last charge ! 
 Right through the dread hell-fire of shrapnel and shell, 
 Through without faltering — clear through with a yell, 
 Right in their midst, in the turmoil and gloom, 
 Like heroes we dashed at the mandate of doom. 
 
 Oh, that last charge ! 
 
 ^ft~was duty. 
 Some things are worthless, and some others so good 
 That nations who buy them pay only in blood ; 
 For Freedom and Union each man owes a part, 
 And here I pay my share all warm from my heart : 
 It is duty. 
 
324 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Dying at last ! 
 My mother, dear .mother, with meek, tearful eye, 
 Farewell ; and God bless you, forever and aye ! 
 Oh that I now lay on your pillowing breast, 
 To breathe my last sigh on the bosom first press'd : 
 Dying at last ! 
 
 I am no saint ; 
 But, boys, say a prayer. There's one that begins 
 " Our Father," and then says, " Forgive us our sins :" 
 Don't forget that part ; say that strongly ; and then 
 I'll try to repeat it, and you'll say Amen. 
 Ah ! I'm no saint. 
 
 Hark ! there's a shout ! 
 Raise me up, comrades — we have conquered, I know- 
 Up, on my feet, with my face to the foe. 
 Ah ! there flies the flag, with its star-spangles bright, 
 The promise of glory, the symbol of right. 
 
 Well may they shout. 
 
 I'm mustered out. 
 O God of our fathers, our freedom prolong, 
 And tread down Rebellion, Oppression, and Wrong ! 
 
 land of earth's hope, on thy blood-reddened sod, 
 
 1 die for the Nation, the Union, and God ! 
 
 I'm mustered out. 
 
 WHERE DOES THE WATER SPRING. 
 
 Where does the water spring, gladsome and bright ? 
 
 Here in the leafy grove, 
 
 Bubbling in life and love, 
 Born of the sunshine, up-leaping to light, 
 
 Waked in its pebbly bed 
 
 When the still shadows fled, 
 Gushing, o'erflowing, down-tumbling for flight. 
 
 Where does the water flow ? Where glides the rill? 
 
 Now 'neath the forest shade, 
 
 Then in the grassy glade, 
 Dancing as freely as child of the hill ; 
 
 Bright cascades leaping, 
 
 Silver brooks creeping, 
 Wearing the mountains, and turning the mill. 
 Where does the water dwell powerful and grand ? 
 
 Here where the ocean foam 
 
 Breaks in its rocked-ribbed home, 
 Dashing, land-lashing, upbounding, wrath spanned j 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 325 
 
 Anon, sweetly sleeping, 
 Soft dimples o'ercreeping, 
 Like a babe on its mother's breast, soothed by her hand. 
 
 "Where smiles the dew-drop the night shadows woo ? 
 
 Where the young flow'rets dip, 
 
 Leaving each perfumed lip 
 Close in the rose's heart, loving and true ; 
 
 Poised on an emerald shaft 
 
 Where never sunbeam laughed, 
 Deep in the dingle — the beautiful dew ! 
 
 THE BRIDES OF ENDERBY; OR, THE HIGH TIDE. 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, 
   The ringers ran by two, by three ; 
 
 (/.) ' ' Pull, if ye never pulled before ; 
 
 Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. 
 "Play uppe, play uppe, oh Boston bells ! 
 Ply all your changes, all your swells, 
 
 Play uppe ' The Brides of Enderby.' " 
 Men say it was a stolen tyde — 
 
 The Lord that sent it, He knows all ; 
 But in myne ears doth still abide 
 
 The message that the bells let fall : 
 And there was naught of strange beside 
 The flights of mews and peewits pied 
 
 By millions crouched on the old sea wall. 
 I sat and spun within the doore ; 
 
 My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes ; 
 The level sun, like ruddy ore, 
 
 Lay sinking in the barren skies ; 
 And dark against day's golden death 
 She moved where Lindis wandereth, 
 My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. 
 
 " Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! " calling, 
 
 Ere the early dews were falling, 
 
 Farre away I heard her song. 
 (/>.) " Cusha ! Cusha ! " all along ; 
 
 Where. the reedy Lindis floweth, 
 Floweth, floweth, 
 
 From the meads where melick groweth, 
 
 Faintly came her milking song. 
 (>) "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, 
 
 "For the dews will soone be falling , 
 
326 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Leave your meadow-grasses mellow, 
 
 Mellow, mellow ; 
 Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; 
 Come uppe, Whitefoot ; come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
 Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, 
 
 Hollow, hollow ; 
 Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow ; 
 From the clovers lift your head : 
 Come uppe, Whitefoot ; come uppe, Lightfoot : 
 Come uppe, Jetty ; rise and follow, 
 Jetty, to the milking-shed." 
 
 If it be long, aye, long ago, 
 
 When I beginne to think howe long, 
 
 Againe I hear the Lindis flow, 
 
 Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong ; 
 
 And all the aire it seemeth mee 
 
 Bin full of floating bells, (say th shee), 
 
 That ring the tune of Enderby. 
 
 Alle fresh the level pasture lay, 
 And not a shadowe mote be seene, 
 
 Save where full fyve good miles away 
 The steeple towered from out the greene ; 
 
 And lo ! the great bell farre and wide 
 
 Was heard in all the country side 
 
 That Saturday at eventide. 
 
 The swannerds where their sedges are 
 Moved on in sunset's golden breath, 
 The shepherd lads I heard afarre. 
 
 And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth ; 
 Till floating o'er the grassy sea 
 Came downe that kyndly message free, 
 "The Brides of Mavis Enderby." 
 
 Then some looked uppe into the sky, 
 And all along where Lindis flows 
 
 To where the goodly vessels lie, 
 And where the lordly steeple shows. 
 
 They sayde, "And why should this thing be? 
 
 WTiat danger lowers by land or sea ? 
 
 They ring the tune of Enderby ! 
 
 "For evil news from Mablethorpe, 
 Of pyrate galleys warping down ; 
 
 For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, 
 They have not spared to wake the towne : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 327 
 
 But while the west bin red to see, 
 And storms be none, and pyrates flee, 
 Why ring ' The Brides of Enderby ?' " 
 
 I looked without, and lo ! my sonne 
 
 Came riding downe with might and main : 
 
 He raised a shout as he drew on, 
 Till all the welkin rang again, 
 (ff.) " Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" 
 
 (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 
 
 Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) 
 
 (ff.) " The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, 
 
 The rising tide comes on apace, 
 And boats adrift in yonder towne 
 
 Go sailing uppe the market-place." 
 He shook as one that looks on death : 
 " God save you, mother !" straight he saith ; 
 " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ?" 
 
 * ' Good sonne, where Lindis winds away, 
 
 With her two bairns I marked her long ; 
 And ere yon bells beganne to play, 
 
 Afar I heard her milking song." 
 He looked across the grassy sea, 
 To right, to left, (/.) " Ho Enderby !" 
 They rang " The Brides of Enderby !" 
 
 With that he cried and beat his breast ; 
 
 For lo ! along the river's bed 
 A mighty eygre reared his crest, 
 
 And uppe the Lindis raging sped. 
 It swept with thunderous noises loud ; 
 Shaped like" a curling snow-white cloud, 
 Or like a demon in a shroud. 
 
 And rearing Lindis backward pressed, 
 
 Shook all her trembling bankes amaine ; 
 Then madly at the eygre's breast 
 
 Flung uppe her weltering walls again. 
 Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout- 
 Then beaten foam flew round about — 
 Then all the mighty floods were out. 
 
 So farre, so fast the eygre drave, 
 
 The heart had hardly time to beat 
 Before a shallow seething wave 
 
 Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet .• 
 
328 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 The feet had hardly time to flee 
 Before it brake against the knee, 
 And all the world was in the sea. 
 Upon the roofe we sate that night, 
 
 The noise of bells went sweeping by : 
 I marked the lofty beacon-light 
 
 Stream from the church-tower red and high- 
 A lurid mark, and dread to see ; 
 And awsome bells they were to mee, 
 That in the dark rang " Enderby." 
 They rang the sailor lads to guide 
 
 From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed ; 
 And I — my sonne was at my side, 
 
 And yet the ruddy beacon glowed : 
 And yet he moaned beneath his breath, 
 " O come in life, or come in death ! 
 O lost ! my love, Elizabeth." 
 And didst thou visit him no more ? 
 
 Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare 
 The waters laid thee at his doore 
 
 Ere yet the early dawn was clear. 
 Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, 
 The lifted sun shone on thy face, 
 Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. 
 That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, 
 
 That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea ; 
 A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! 
 
 To manye more than myne and me : 
 But each will mourn his own (she saith). 
 And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 
 Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. 
 
 I shall never hear her more 
 
 By the reedy Lindis shore, 
 (>) " Cusha, Cusha, Cusha ! " calling, 
 
 Ere the early dews be falling ; 
 
 I shall never hear her song, 
 (/.) " Cusha, Cusha !" all along, 
 
 Where the sunny Lindis floweth, 
 Goeth, floweth ; 
 
 From the meads where melick groweth, 
 
 When the water, winding down, 
 
 Onward floweth to the town. 
 
 I shall never see her more 
 
 Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 
 Shiver, quiver ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 329 
 
 Stand beside the sobbing river, 
 
 Sobbing, throbbing, in its felling, 
 
 To the sandy lonesome shore ; 
 
 I shall never hear her calling, 
 
 " Leave your meadow-grasses mellow, 
 
 Mellow, mellow ; 
 Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; 
 Come uppe, Whitefoot ; come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
 Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, 
 
 Hollow, hollow ; 
 Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow ; 
 
 Lightfoot, Whitefoot, 
 From your clovers lift the head ; 
 Come uppe, Jetty ; follow, follow, 
 Jetty, to the milking-shed." 
 
 THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL. 
 
 [From " Hymns of Hope and Faith."] 
 
 HORATIUS BONAB. 
 
 Up and away, like the dew of the morning, 
 
 Soaring from earth to its home in the sun ; 
 So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, 
 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 My name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten, 
 The brief race of time well and patiently run, 
 
 So let me pass away, peacefully, silently, 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 Gladly away from this toil would I hasten, 
 
 Up to the crown that for me has been won ; 
 Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises, 
 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 Up and away, like the odors of sunset, 
 
 That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on ; 
 
 So be my life — a thing felt but not noticed, 
 And I but remembered by what I have done. 
 
 Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness, 
 
 When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone, 
 
 So would I be to this world's weary dwellers, 
 Only remembered by what I have done. 
 
 Needs there the praise of the love-written record, 
 The name and the epitaph graved on the stone ? 
 
 The things we have lived for — let them be our story, 
 We ourselves but remembered by what we have done. 
 
330 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 I need not be missed if my life has been bearing 
 (As its summer and autumn moved silently on) 
 
 The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season ; 
 I shall still be remembered by what I have done. 
 
 I need not be missed if another succeed me 
 
 To reap down those fields which in spring I have sown ; 
 
 He who plowed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper, 
 He is only remembered by what he has done. 
 
 Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken — 
 Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown, 
 
 Shall pass on to ages — all about me forgotten, 
 
 Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done. 
 
 So let my living be, so be my dying ; 
 
 So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown ; 
 Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remembered y 
 
 Yes — but remembered by what I have done. 
 
 THE WOULD WOULD BE THE BETTER FOR IT. 
 
 If men cared less for wealth and fame, 
 
 And less for battle-fields and glory ; 
 If, writ in human hearts, a name 
 
 Seemed better than in song and story $ 
 If men, instead of nursing pride, 
 
 Would learn to hate it and abhor it ; 
 If more relied on love to guide, 
 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 If men dealt less in stocks and lands, 
 
 And more in bonds and deeds fraternal ; 
 If Love's work had more willing hands 
 
 To link this world to the supernal; 
 If men stored up Love's oil and wine, 
 
 And on bruised human hearts would pour it ; 
 If " yours" and " mine" would once combine, 
 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 If more would act the play of life, 
 
 And fewer spoil it in rehearsal ; 
 If Bigotry would sheathe its knife 
 
 Till good becomes more universal ; 
 If custom, gray with ages grown, 
 
 Had fewer blind men to adore it ; 
 If talents shone in Truth alone, 
 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 331 
 
 If men were wise in little things — 
 
 Affecting less in all their dealings — 
 If hearts had fewer rusted strings 
 
 To isolate their kindly feelings ; 
 If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, 
 
 Would strike together and restore it ; 
 If Right made Might in every fight, 
 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 THANK GOD, THERE'S STILL A VANGUARD. 
 
 Mrs. H. E. G. Arbt. 
 
 Thanh God, there's still a vanguard 
 
 Fighting for the Right ; 
 Though the throng flock to rearward, 
 
 Lifting (ashen-white) 
 Flags of truce to Sin and Error, 
 Clasping hands mute with terror, 
 Thank God, there's still a vanguard 
 
 Fighting for the Right. 
 
 Through the wilderness advancing, 
 
 Hewers of the way ; 
 Forward far their spears are glancing, 
 
 Flashing back the day. 
 "Back!" the leaders cry who fear them; 
 " Back !" from all the army near them ; 
 They, their steady tramp advancing, 
 
 Cleave their certain way. 
 
 Slay them — from each drop that falleth 
 
 Springs a hero armed ; 
 Where the martyr's fire appalleth, 
 
 Lo ! they pass unharmed ; 
 Crushed beneath thy wheel, Oppression, 
 How their spirits hold possession — 
 How their dross-purged voice outcalleth, 
 
 By the death-throes warmed ! 
 
 Thank God, there's still a vanguard 
 
 Fighting for the right ; 
 Error's legions know their standard 
 
 Floating in the light. 
 When the league of Sin rejoices, 
 Quick outring the rallying voices, 
 Thank God, there's still a vanguard 
 
 Fighting for the Right. 
 
332 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 CREEDS OF THE BELLS. 
 
 G.W. Bungay. 
 
 How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells ! 
 Each one its creed in music tells, 
 In tones that float upon the air, 
 As soft as song, and pure as prayer ; 
 And I will put in simple rhyme 
 The language of the golden chime. 
 My happy heart with rapture swells 
 Responsive to the bells — sweet bells. 
 
 (high.) * l In deeds of love excel — excel, " 
 
 Chimed out from ivied towers a bell ; 
 
 (pure.) " This is the church not built on sands, 
 Emblem of one not built with hands ; 
 Its forms and sacred rites revere, 
 Come worship here — come worship here ; 
 In rituals and faith excel, " 
 Chimed out the Episcopalian bell. 
 
 (low.) " Oh, heed the ancient landmarks well," 
 In solemn tones exclaimed a bell ; 
 
 (oro.) " No progress made by mortal man 
 Can change the just, eternal plan. 
 With God there can be nothing new ; 
 Ignore the false, embrace the true, 
 While all is well— is well — is well," 
 Pealed out the good old Dutch Church bell 
 
 (pure.) " Oh swell, ye purifying waters, swell," 
 In mellow tones rang out a bell ; 
 " Though faith alone in Christ can save ; 
 Man must be plunged beneath the wave, 
 To show the world unfaltering faith 
 In what the sacred Scripture saith. 
 Oh swell, ye rising waters, swell," 
 Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell. 
 
 (p.) " Not faith alone, but works as well, 
 Must test the soul," said a soft bell ; 
 " Come here, and cast aside your load, 
 And work your way along the road, 
 With faith in God, and faith in man, 
 And hope in Christ, where hope began : 
 
 (echo.) Do well — do well — do well — do well," 
 Pealed forth the Unitarian bell. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 333 
 
 {pro.) "Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell," 
 In touching tones exclaimed a bell ; 
 ' ' Life is a boon to mortals given, 
 To fit the soul for bliss in heaven. 
 Do not invoke the avenging rod ; 
 Come here, and learn the way to God. 
 Say to the world farewell! farewell!" 
 Pealed out the Presbyterian bell. 
 
 (/?.) "In after life there is no hell," 
 In rapture rang a cheerful bell ; 
 "Look up to Heaven this holy day, 
 Where angels wait to lead the way. 
 There are no fires, no fiends to blight 
 The future life : be just and right. 
 No hell — no hell — no hell — no hell," 
 Rang out the Universalist bell. 
 
 (pure.) " To all the truth we tell— we tell," 
 
 Shouted, in ecstasies, a bell ; 
 
 " Come, all ye weary wanderers, see! 
 
 Our Lord has made salvation free. 
 (J'ast.) Repent! believe! have faith! and then 
 
 Be saved, and praise the Lord. Amen. 
 
 Salvation's free we tell — we tell," 
 
 Shouted the Methodistic bell. 
 
 THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. 
 
 Longfellow, 
 
 All is finished ; and at length 
 
 Has come the bridal day 
 
 Of beauty and of strength. 
 To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 
 With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 
 
 And o'er the bay, 
 Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 
 Tfhe great sun rises to behold the sight. 
 
 The ocean old — centuries old — 
 Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 
 
 Paces restless to and fro, 
 Up and down the sands of gold ; 
 His beating heart is not at rest ; 
 
 And far and wide, 
 
 With ceaseless flow, 
 
 His beard of snow 
 Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 
 
334 MANUAL OF HEADING. 
 
 He waits impatient for his bride. 
 
 There she stands, 
 Wilh her foot upon the sands, 
 Decked with flags and streamers gay 
 
 In honor of her marriage-day ; 
 Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending 
 Round her like a veil descending, 
 
 Ready to be 
 The bride of the gray old sea. 
 
 Then the master, 
 With a gesture of command, 
 
 Waved his hand ; 
 
 And at the word, 
 Loud and sudden there was heard, 
 All around them and below, 
 The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 
 Knocking away the shores and spurs. 
 
 And see ! she stirs ! 
 She starts — she moves — she seems to feel 
 The thrill of life along her keel, 
 And, spurning with her foot the ground, 
 With one exulting, joyous bound, 
 She leaps into the ocean's arms ! 
 
 And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
 There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, 
 That to the ocean seemed to say, 
 " Take her, oh bridegroom old and gray, 
 Take her to thy protecting arms, 
 With all her youth and all her charms." 
 
 How beautiful she is ! how fair 
 
 She lies within those arms, that press 
 
 Her form with many a soft caress 
 
 Of tenderness and watchful care ! 
 
 Sail forth upon the sea, oh ship ! 
 
 Through wind and wave right onward steer I 
 
 The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 
 
 Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 
 
 Thou, too, sail on, oh Ship of State ! 
 Sail on, oh Union, strong and great ! 
 Humanity, with all its fears, 
 With all the hopes of future years, 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 335 
 
 We know what master laid thy keel, 
 What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
 Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
 What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
 . In what a forge, and what a heat, 
 
 Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. 
 
 Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
 
 'Tis of the wave, and not the rock ; 
 
 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 
 
 And not a rent made by the gale. 
 
 In spite of rock and tempest roar, 
 
 In spite of false lights on the shore, 
 
 Sail on ! nor fear to breast the sea j 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
 
 Our faith, triumphant o'er our fears, 
 
 Are all with thee — are all with thee, 
 
 EVENING AT THE FARM. 
 
 Over the hill the farm-boy goes : 
 His shadow lengthens along the land ; 
 A giant staff in a giant hand ; 
 In the poplar-tree, above the spring, 
 The katydid begins to sing ; 
 
 The early dews are falling : 
 Into the stone-heap darts the mink ; 
 The swallows skim the river's brink ; 
 And home to the woodland fly the crows, 
 When over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
 Cheerily calling, 
 (pure.) "Co' boss! co' boss! co'! co'! co' !" 
 
 Farther, farther, over the hill, 
 
 Faintly calling, calling still, 
 (/>.) " Co' boss! co'boss! co'! co'! co'!" 
 
 Into the yard the farmer goes 
 With grateful heart at the close of day : 
 Harness and chain are hung away ; 
 In the wagon-shed stands yoke and plow ; 
 The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mowf 
 
 The cooling dews are falling : 
 The friendly sheep their welcome bleat, 
 The pigs come grunting at his feet, 
 And the whinnying mare her master knows 
 When into the yard the farmer goes, 
 His cattle calling, 
 
336 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 (pro.) " Co' boss ! co' boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
 
 While still the cow-boy, far away, 
 Goes seeking those that have gone astray, 
 (pp.) " Co' boss ! co' boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
 
 Now to her task the milkmaid goes : 
 The cattle come crowding through the gate, 
 Lowing, pushing, little and great ; 
 About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, 
 The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump, 
 
 While the pleasant dews are falling : 
 The new milch heifer is quick and shy, 
 But the old cow waits with tranquil eye, 
 And the white stream into the bright pail flows 
 When to her task the milkmaid goes, 
 Soothingly calling, 
 (pure.) '"'SOjboss! so, boss! so! so! so!" 
 
 The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, 
 And sits and milks in the twilight cool, 
 Saying "So! so, boss! so! so!" 
 To supper at last the farmer goes : 
 The apples are pared, the paper read, 
 The stories are told, then all to bed. 
 Without, the cricket's ceaseless song 
 Makes shrill the silence all night long ; 
 
 The heavy dews are falling : 
 The housewife's hand has turned the lock ; 
 Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; 
 The household sinks to deep repose, 
 But still in sleep the farm-boy goes, 
 Singing, calling, 
 (sleepy.) "Co' boss! co'boss! co' ! co'! co'!" 
 
 And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams, 
 Drums in the pail with the flashing stream, 
 Murmuring " So, boss ! so !" 
 
 THE NEWS OF A DAY. 
 
 Mrs. S. T. Bolton. 
 
 (falsetto.) " Great battle ! Times extra !" the newsboy cried, 
 But it scarcely rippled the living tide 
 That ebbed and flowed in the busy street, 
 With its throbbing hearts and its restless feet. 
 Again through the hum of the city thrilled — 
 
 (falsetto.) " Great battle ! Times extra! Ten thousand killed!" 
 And the little carrier hurried away 
 With the sorrowful news of that winter-day. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 337 
 
 To a dreary room in the attic high 
 Trembled the words of that small, sharp cry, 
 And a lonely widow bowed down her head 
 And murmured, ' ' Willie — my Willie is dead ! 
 Oh, I feared it was not an idle dream 
 That led me, last night, to that deep, dark stream, 
 Where the ground was wet with a crimson rain, 
 And strewn all over with ghastly slain ! 
 The stars were dim, for the night was wild, 
 But 1 threaded the gloom till I found my child. 
 
 *' The cold rain fell on his upturned face, 
 And the swift destroyer had left no trace 
 Of the sudden blow and the quick, sharp pain, 
 But a little wound and a purple stain. 
 I tried to speak, but my voice was gone, 
 And my soul stood there in the cold gray dawn 
 Till they rifled his body with ruthless hand, 
 And covered him up with the reeking sand. 
 
 " Willie ! oh, Willie ! it seems but a day 
 Since thy baby-head on my bosom lay — 
 Since I heard thy prattle so soft and sweet, 
 And guided the steps of thy tottering feet ; 
 And thou wert the fairest and last of three 
 That the Father in heaven had given to me. 
 All the life of my heart — love, hope, and joy — 
 Were treasured in thee, my strong, brave boy ; 
 And the last faint words that thy father said 
 Were, * Willie will mind thee when I am dead. ' 
 But they tore the flag from thy death-cold hand a 
 And covered thee up in the reeking sand." 
 
 She read the names of the missing and slain, 
 But one she read over again and again ; 
 And the sad, low words that her white lips said 
 Were, 4 'Company C, William Warren — dead." 
 The world toiled on through the busy street, 
 With its aching hearts and unresting feet ; 
 The night came down to her cold hearth-stone, 
 And she still read on in the same low tone ; 
 And still the words that her white lips said 
 Were," Company C, William Warren — dead."' 
 
 The light of the morning chased the gloom 
 From the emberless hearth of that attic room, 
 And the city's pulses throbbed again, 
 Bat the mother's heart had forgotten its psfc 
 P 
 
338 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 She had gone through the gates to the better land 
 With that terrible list in her pale, cold hand — 
 With her white lips parted, as last she said, 
 " Company C, William Warren — dead!" 
 
 "BORROBOOLA GHA." 
 
 A stranger preached last Sunday, 
 
 And crowds of people came 
 To hear a two-hour sermon 
 
 With a barbarous sounding name. 
 'Twas all about some heathens 
 
 Thousands of miles afar, 
 Who lived in a land of darkness, 
 
 Called Borroboola Gha. 
 
 So well their wants he pictured, 
 
 That, when the plates were passed, 
 Each listener felt his pockets, 
 
 And goodly sums were cast ; 
 For all must lend N a shoulder 
 
 To push a rolling car 
 That carries light and comfort 
 
 To " Borroboola Gha." 
 
 That night their wants and sorrows 
 
 Lay heavy on my soul, 
 And deep in meditation 
 
 I took my morning stroll, 
 Till something caught my mantle 
 
 With eager grasp and wild, 
 And, looking down with wonder, 
 
 I saw a little child — 
 
 A pale and puny creature, 
 
 In rags and dirt forlorn. 
 What could she want ? I questioned, 
 
 Impatient to be gone. 
 With trembling voice she answered, 
 
 " We live just down the street, 
 And mammy she's a dyin', 
 
 And we've nothin' left to eat." 
 
 Down in a wretched basement, 
 With mould upon the walls, 
 
 Through whose half-buried windows 
 God's sunshine never falls — 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 339 
 
 Where cold, and want, and hunger 
 
 Crouched near her as she lay, 
 I found a fellow-creature 
 
 Gasping her life away. 
 
 A chair, a broken table, 
 
 A bed of dirty straw, 
 A hearth all dark and cheerless — 
 
 But these I scarcely saw 
 For the mournful sight before me — 
 
 The sad and sickening show. 
 Oh, never had I pictured 
 
 A scene so full of woe. 
 
 The famished and the naked, 
 
 The babes that pined for bread, 
 The squalid group that huddled 
 
 Around the dying bed — 
 All this distress and sorrow 
 
 Should be in lands afar : 
 Was I suddenly transplanted 
 
 To "BorroboolaGha?" 
 
 Ah ! no ; the poor and wretched 
 
 Were close behind the door, 
 And I had passed them heedless 
 
 A thousand times before. 
 Alas ! for the cold and hungry 
 
 That met me every day, 
 While all my tears were given 
 
 To the suffering far away. 
 
 There's work enough for Christians 
 
 In distant lands, we know ; 
 Our Lord commands his servants 
 
 Through all the world to go. 
 Not only for the heathen. 
 
 This was the charge to them : 
 " Go preach the Word, beginning 
 
 First at Jerusalem." 
 
 Oh, Christian, God has promised 
 
 Whoe'er to thee has given 
 A cup of pure cold water 
 
 Shall find reward in heaven. 
 Would you secure the blessing, 
 
 You need not seek it far ; 
 Go find in yonder hovel 
 
 A " Borroboola Gha." 
 
340 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MARINER. 
 
 Mrs. Southey. 
 Launch thy bark, mariner ; 
 
 Christian, God speed thee ! 
 Let loose the rudder-bands ; 
 
 Good angels lead thee i 
 Set thy sails warily— 
 
 Tempests will come ; 
 Steer thy course steadily ; 
 
 Christian, steer home ! 
 
 Look to the weather-bow — 
 
 Breakers are round thee ; 
 Let fall the plummet now — 
 
 Shallows may ground thee. 
 Reef in the foresail, there ! 
 
 Hold the helm fast ! 
 So ! — let the vessel wear : 
 
 There swept the blast. 
 
 (calling.) " What of the night, watchman— 
 
 What of the night?" 
 {pro.) " Cloudy — all quiet — 
 
 No land yet — all's right." 
 Be wakeful — be vigilant ; 
 
 Danger may be 
 At an hour when all seemeth 
 Securest to thee. 
 
 (/.) Plow gains the leak so fast ? 
 
 Clean out the hold ; 
 Hoist up the merchandise, 
 
 Heave out the gold. 
 There ! let the ingots go ; 
 Now the ship rights. 
 (ff.) Hurrah ! the harbor's near : 
 
 Lo ! the red lights. 
 
 Slacken not sail yet 
 At inlet or island ; 
 Straight for the beacon steer- 
 Straight for the highland. 
 Crowd all thy canvas on ; 
 Cut through the foam ; 
 f . x (Christian, cast anchor now; 
 \Heaven is thy home ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 341 
 
 NO SECT IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Mrs. Cleveland. 
 Talking of sects till late one eve — 
 Of the various doctrines the saints believe, 
 That night I stood, in a troubled dream, 
 By the side of a darkly flowing stream. 
 
 And a "Churchman" down to the river came, 
 When I heard a strange voice call his name. 
 "Good father, stop ; when you cross the tide, 
 You must leave your robes on the other "side." 
 
 But the aged father did not mind, 
 And his long robe floated out behind 
 As down to the stream his way he took, 
 His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book. 
 
 " I'm bound for heaven, and, when I'm there, 
 I shall want my Book of Common Prayer ; 
 And, though I put on a starry crown, 
 I should feel quite lost without my gown." 
 
 Then he fixed his eye on the shining track, 
 But his gown was heavy, and held him back, 
 And the poor old father tried in vain 
 A single step in the flood to gain. 
 
 I saw him again on the other side, 
 But his silk gown floated on the tide ; 
 And no one asked, in that blissful spot, 
 Whether he belonged to "the Church" or not. 
 
 Then down to the river a "Quaker" strayed: 
 His dress of a sober hue was made. 
 "My coat and hat must be all of gray ; 
 I can not go any other way." 
 
 Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin, 
 
 And steadily, solemnly waded in, 
 
 And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight 
 
 Over his forehead, so cold and white. 
 
 But a strong wind carried away his hat : 
 
 A moment he silently sighed over that ; 
 
 And then, as he gazed to the farther shore, 
 
 The coat slipped off, and was seen no more. 
 
 As he entered heaven, his suit of gray 
 
 Went quietly sailing away — away, 
 
 And none of the angels questioned him 
 
 About the width of his beaver's brim. 
 
342 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 Next came Dr. Watts, with a bundle of psalms 
 
 Tied nicely up in his aged arms, 
 
 And hymns as many — a very wise thing — 
 
 That the people of heaven "all round" might sing, 
 
 But I thought he heaved an anxious sigh 
 As he saw that the river ran broad and high ; 
 And he looked rather surprised as, one by one, 
 The psalms and hymns in the wave went down. 
 
 And after him, with his MSS., 
 
 Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness ; 
 
 But he cried, " Dear me, what shall I do ? 
 
 The water has soaked them through and through." 
 
 And there on the river, far and wide, 
 Away they went down the swollen tide, 
 And the saint, astonished, passed through alone, 
 Without his manuscripts, up to the throne. 
 
 Then, gravely walking, two saints by name 
 Down to the stream together came ; 
 But, as they stopped at'the river brink, 
 I saw one saint from the other shrink. 
 
 " Sprinkled or plunged — may I ask you, friend, 
 How you attained to life's great end?" 
 "Thus, with a few drops on my brow." 
 " But /have been dipped, as you'll see me now; 
 
 And I really think it will hardly do, 
 As I'm close communion, to cross with you. 
 You're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss ; 
 But you must go that way, and I'll go this." 
 
 Then straightway plunging, with all his might, 
 Away to the left — his friend to the right, 
 Apart they went from this world of pain, 
 But at last together they entered in. 
 
 And now, when the river was rolling on, 
 
 A Presbyterian Church went down ; 
 
 Of women there seemed an innumerable throng, 
 
 But the men I could count as they passed along, 
 
 And concerning the road they could never agree s 
 The old or the new way — which it should be ; 
 Nor ever a moment paused to think 
 That both would lead to the river's brink. 
 
 And a sound of murmuring, long and loud, 
 Came ever up from the moving crowd : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 343 
 
 " You're in the old way, I'm in the new ; 
 That is the false, and this is the true ;" 
 Or, " I'm in the old way, and you're in the new ; 
 That is the false, and this is the true." 
 
 I watched them long in my curious dream 
 
 Till they stood by the borders of the stream; 
 
 Then, just as I thought, the two ways met ; 
 
 But all the brethren were talking yet, 
 
 And would talk on till the heaving tide 
 
 Carried them over, side by side — 
 
 Side by side, for the way was one. 
 
 The toilsome journey of life was done, 
 
 And priest, and Quaker, and all who died, 
 
 Came out alike on the other side. 
 
 No forms, no crosses, or books had they— 
 
 No gowns of silk, or suits of gray — 
 
 No creeds to guide them, or MSS., 
 
 For all had put on Christ's righteousness. 
 
 JOHN BURNS, OF GETTYSBURG. 
 
 Bret Harte. 
 
 Have you heard the story that gossips tell 
 
 Of Burns of Gettysburg ? No ? Ah ! well : 
 
 Brief is the glory that hero earns, 
 
 Briefer the story of poor John Burns : 
 
 He was the fellow who won renown — 
 
 The only man who didn't back down 
 
 When the rebels rode through his native town ; 
 
 But held his own in the fight next day, 
 
 When all his townsfolk ran away. 
 
 That was in July, sixty-three, 
 
 The very day that General Lee, 
 
 Flower of Southern chivalry, 
 
 Baffled and beaten, backward reeled 
 
 From a stubborn Meade and a barren field. 
 
 I might tell how, but the day before, 
 John Burns stood at his cottage door, 
 Looking down the village street, 
 Where, in the shade of his peaceful vine, 
 He heard the low of his gathered kine, 
 And felt their breath with incense sweet ; 
 Or I might say, when the sunset burned 
 The old farm gable, he thought it turned 
 The milk that fell, in a babbling flood 
 
344 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Into the milk-pail, red as blood ! 
 
 Or how he fancied the hum of bees 
 
 Were bullets buzzing among the trees. 
 
 But all such fanciful thoughts as these 
 
 Were strange to a practical man like Burns, 
 
 Who minded only his own concerns, 
 
 Troubled no more by fancies fine 
 
 Than one of his calm-eyed, long-tailed kine— 
 
 Quite old-fashioned and matter-of-fact, 
 
 Slow to argue, but quick to act. 
 
 That was the reason, as some folks say, 
 
 He fought so well on that terrible day. 
 
 And it was terrible. On the right 
 
 Raged for hours the heavy fight, 
 
 Thundered the battery's double bass — 
 
 Difficult music for men to face : 
 
 While on the left — where now the graves 
 
 Undulate like the living waves 
 
 That all that day unceasing swept 
 
 Up to the pits the rebels kept — 
 
 Round shot plowed the upland glades : 
 
 Sown with bullets, reaped with blades ; 
 
 Shattered fences here and there 
 
 Tossed their splinters in the air ; 
 
 The very trees were stripped and bare ; 
 
 The barns that once held yellow grain 
 
 Were heaped with harvests of the slain ; 
 
 The cattle bellowed on the plain, 
 
 The turkeys screamed with might and main a 
 
 And brooding barn-fowl left their rest 
 
 With strange shells bursting in each nest. 
 
 Just where the tide of battle turns, 
 
 Erect and lonely stood old John Burns. 
 
 How do you think the man was dressed ? 
 
 He wore an ancient long buff vest, 
 
 Yellow as saffron — but his best ; 
 
 And buttoned over his manly breast 
 
 Was a bright blue coat, with a rolling collar, 
 
 And large gilt buttons— size of a dollar— 
 
 With tails that the country-folk called "swaller. 1 
 
 He wore a broad-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, 
 
 White as the locks on which it sat. 
 
 Never had such a sight been seen 
 
 For forty years on the village green, 
 
 Since old John Burns was a country beau, 
 
 And went to the " quillings" long ago. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 345 
 
 Close at his elbows all that day, 
 
 Veterans of the Peninsula, 
 
 Sunburnt and bearded, charged away : 
 
 And striplings, downy of lip and chin — 
 
 Clerks that the Home Guard mustered in — 
 
 Glanced, as they passed, at the hat he wore, 
 
 Then at the rifle his right hand bore, 
 
 And hailed him, from out their youthful lore, 
 
 With scraps of a slangy repertoire : 
 
 " How are you, White Hat !" " Put her through!" 
 
 " Your head's level," and " Bully for you !" 
 
 Called him " Daddy" — begged he'd disclose 
 
 The name of the tailor who made his clothes, 
 
 And what was the value he set on those ; 
 
 While Burns, unmindful of jeer and scoff, 
 
 Stood there picking the rebels off— 
 
 With his long brown rifle, and bell-crown hat, 
 
 And the swallow-tails they were laughing at. 
 
 'Twas but a moment, for that respect 
 
 Which clothes all courage their voices checked ; 
 
 And something the wildest could understand 
 
 Spake in the old man's strong right hand ; 
 
 And his corded throat, and the lurking frown 
 
 Of his eyebrows under his old bell-crown ; 
 
 Until, as they gazed, there crept an aw» 
 
 Through the ranks in whispers, and some men saw, 
 
 In the antique vestments and long white hair, 
 
 The Past of the Nation in battle there ; 
 
 And some of the soldiers since declare 
 
 JThat the gleam of his old white hat afar, 
 
 Like the crested plume of the brave Navarre, 
 
 That day was their oriflamme of war. 
 
 So raged the battle. You know the rest : 
 How the rebels, beaten and backward pressed, 
 Broke at the final charge, and ran, 
 At which John Burns — a practical man — 
 Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows, 
 And then went back to his bees and cows. 
 
 That is the story of old John Burns ; 
 This is the moral the reader learns : 
 In fighting the battle, the question's whether 
 You'll show a hat that's white or a feather ! 
 P2 
 
346 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER. 
 
 Mrs. Sophia P. Snow. 
 Twas the eve before Christmas ; " Good-night" had been said, 
 And Annie and Willie had crept into bed ; 
 There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes, 
 And each little bosom was heaving with sighs, 
 For to-night their stern father's command had been given 
 That they should retire precisely at seven 
 Instead of at eight ; for they troubled him more 
 With questions unheard of than ever before : 
 He had told them he thought this delusion a sin — 
 No such being as "Santa Claus" ever had been — 
 And he hoped after this he should nevermore hear 
 How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year. • ' 
 And this was the reason that two little heads 
 So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds. 
 Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten ; 
 Not a word had been spoken by either till then, 
 When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep, 
 And whispered, " Dear Annie, is yon fast asleep ?" 
 44 Why no, Brother Willie," a sweet voice replies, 
 44 I've tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes, 
 For somehow it makes me sorry because 
 Dear papa has said there is no * Santa Claus. ' 
 Now we know there is, and it can't be denied, 
 For he came every year before mamma died : 
 But then, I've been thinking that she used to pray, 
 And God would hear every thing mamma would say ; 
 And perhaps she asked him to send Santa Claus here, 
 With the sack full of presents he brought every year r 
 " Well, why tan't we pay dest as mamma did then, 
 And ask Dod to send him with presents aden ?" 
 "I've been thinking so too," and, without a word more, 
 Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor, 
 And four little knees the soft carpet pressed, 
 And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast. 
 44 Now, Willie, you know, we must firmly believe 
 That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive ; 
 You must wait just as still till I say the 4 Amen,' 
 And by that you will know that your turn has come thea 
 4 Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me, 
 And grant us the favor we are asking of thee. 
 I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and ring, 
 And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring. 
 Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 347 
 
 That Santa Claus loves us far better than he ; 
 Don't let him get fretful and angry again 
 At dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen.' " 
 "Please, Desus, et Santa Taus turn down to-night, 
 And bing us some pesents before it is ight ; 
 I want he should div me a nice ittle sed, 
 With bright shinin unners and all painted ed ; 
 A box full of tandy, a book, and a toy — 
 Amen — and den, Desus, I'll be a dood boy." 
 
 Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads, 
 And, with hearts light and cheerful, again sought their bedg ; 
 They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep, 
 And with fairies in Dreamland were roaming in sleep. 
 
 Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten, 
 
 Ere the father had thought of his children again ; 
 
 He seems now to hear Annie's half-suppressed sighs, 
 
 And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes ; 
 
 "I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said, 
 
 "And should not have sent them so early to bed ; 
 
 But then I was troubled, my feelings found vent, 
 
 For bank stock to-day has come down ten per cent. 
 
 But of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this, 
 
 And that I denied them the thrice asked for kiss ; 
 
 But, just to make sure, I'll steal up to their door, 
 
 For I never spoke harsh to my darlings before." 
 
 So saying, he softly ascended the stairs, 
 
 And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers ; 
 
 His Annie's " bless papa" draws forth the big tears, 
 
 And Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears. 
 
 *• Strange, strange, I'd forgotten," said he, with a sigh, 
 
 " How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh, 
 
 I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, 
 
 "By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed." "> 
 
 Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down, 
 Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown, 
 Donned hat, coat, and boots, and was out in the street, 
 A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet, 
 Nor stopped he until he had bought every thing, 
 From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring ; 
 Indeed he kept adding so much to his store 
 That the various presents outnumbered a score ; 
 Then homeward he turned with his holiday load, 
 And, with Aunt Mary's help, in the nursery 'twas stowed. 
 Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine-tree, 
 By the side of a table spread out for her tea ; 
 
348 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 A work-box well filled in the centre was laid, 
 And on it the ring for which Annie had prayed. 
 A soldier in uniform stood by a sled, 
 " With bright shining runners and painted all red." 
 There were balls, dogs, and horses, books pleasing to see, 
 And birds of all colors were perched in the tree, 
 While Santa Claus, laughing, stood up in the top, 
 As if getting ready more presents to drop ; 
 And, as the fond father the picture surveyed, 
 He thought for his trouble he had amply been paid, 
 And he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear, 
 " I'm happier to-night than I've been for a year ; 
 I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before — 
 What care I if bank stock falls ten per cent. more. . 
 Hereafter I'll make it a rule, I believe, 
 To have Santa Claus visit us each Christmas Eve." 
 So thinking, he gently extinguished the light, 
 And tripped down the stairs to retire for the night. 
 As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun 
 Put the darkness to flight, and the stars one by one, 
 Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide, 
 And at the same moment the presents espied. 
 Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound, 
 And the very gifts prayed for were all of them found ; 
 They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee, 
 And shouted for "papa" to come quick and see 
 What presents old Santa Claus brought in the night 
 (Just the things that they wanted), and left before light 5 
 "And now," added Annie, in voice soft and low, 
 "You'll believe there's a * Santa Claus, ' papa, I know." 
 While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, 
 Determined no secret between them should be, 
 And told in soft whispers how Annie had said 
 That their dear, blessed mamma, so long ago dead, 
 Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair, 
 And that God, up in heaven, had answered her prayer. 
 " Then we dot up and prayed dest as well as we tould, 
 And Dod answered our prayers— now wasn't he dood?" 
 " I should say that he was, if he sent you all these, 
 And know just what presents my children would please. 
 (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, 
 'Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself.)" 
 Blind father ! who caused your stern heart to relent, 
 And the hasty words spoken so soon to repent ? 
 'Twas the Being who made you steal softly up stairs, 
 And made you His agent to answer their prayers. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 349 
 
 THE SOUL-DIRGE. 
 
 A. Cleveland Coxe. 
 
 The organ played sweet music 
 
 The while, on Easter-day, 
 All heartless from the altar t 
 
 The Jieedless went away ; # 
 And, down the broad aisle crowding, 
 
 They seemed a funeral train, 
 That were burying their spirits 
 
 To the music of that strain. 
 
 As I listened to the organ, 
 
 And saw them crowd along, 
 I thought I heard two voices 
 
 Speaking strangely, but not strong. 
 And one it whispered sadly, 
 
 " Will ye also go away ?" 
 But the other spoke, exulting, 
 
 " Ha ! the soul-dirge — hear it play !" 
 
 Hear the soul-dirge ! hear the soul-dirge 
 
 And see the feast divine ! 
 Ha ! the jewels of salvation, 
 
 And the trampling feet of swine ! 
 Hear the soul-dirge ! hear the soul-dirge ! 
 
 Little think they, as they go, 
 What priceless pearls they tread on, 
 
 Who spurn their Savior so. 
 Hear the soul-dirge ! hear the soul-dirge 2 
 
 It was dread to hear it play, 
 W T hile the Famishing were crowding 
 
 From the Bread of Life away. 
 They were bidden, they were bidden 
 
 To their Father's festal board, 
 But they all with gleeful faces 
 
 Turned their back upon the Lord. 
 You had thought the church a prison 
 
 Had you seen how they did pour, 
 With giddy, giddy faces, 
 
 From the consecrated door. 
 There was angels' food all ready, 
 
 But the bidden, where are they ? 
 O'er the highways and the hedges 
 
 Ere the soul-dirge ceased to play. 
 Oh ! the soul-dirge, how it echoed 
 
 The emptied aisles along ! 
 
350 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 As the open street grew crowded 
 With the full outpouring throng. 
 
 And then — again the voices — 
 
 "Ha! the soul-dirge! hear it play!" 
 
 And the pensive, pensive whisper, 
 "Will ye also go away?" 
 
 Few, few were they that lingered . 
 
 To sup with Jesus there, 
 And yet for all that spurned Him 
 
 There was plenty and to spare. 
 And now the food of angels 
 
 Uncovered to my sight, 
 All glorious was the altar, 
 
 And the chalice glittered bright. 
 
 Then came the hymn Trisagion, 
 
 And rapt me up on high, 
 With angels and archangels 
 
 To laud and magnify. 
 I seemed to feast in heaven, 
 
 And downward wafted then, 
 With angels chanting round me, 
 
 Good will and peace to men. 
 
 I may not tell the rapture 
 
 Of a banquet so divine. 
 Ho ! every one that thirsteth, 
 
 Let him taste the bread and wine. 
 Hear the Bride and Spirit saying, 
 
 11 Will ye also go away f 
 Or, " Go, poor soul, forever !" 
 
 Ah ! the soul-dirge — hear it play ! 
 
 THE TRIAD. 
 
 Alfred B. Street. 
 Through the air low sounds are stealing, 
 Softly, sadly, deep with feeling ; 
 Across the ear they slowly draw along, 
 Wailing like winds in their wild autumn song ; 
 It is Music in its sorrow, and causing by a chain 
 Of sympathy each bosom to yield an answering strain, 
 
 But now the changing sounds leap out ! 
 Merrily, merrily, swift they dance about, 
 As the glad bluebird on a day in spring, 
 When south winds are blowing, 
 And bright streams are flowing, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 351 
 
 And blossoms are rising and smiling around, 
 And incense floats up from the altar-like ground. 
 
 Hither and yon, 
 
 In shadow and sun, 
 Wanders and skims with delight in its wing ; 
 Or like the voice of a frolicsome boy 
 Chasing the butterfly over the flowers, 
 When sunshincis painting the summer hours, 
 His heart in his lips, and his lips shouting free 
 In the strain that is born and is moulded of glee : 
 
 "lis music in its joy. 
 
 Hark! once again 
 Peals up — peals up the strain ! 
 
 Swift, swift on high, 
 On lightning wings it seems to fly, 
 Lark-like in floods of harmony, 
 
 Until methinks we see 
 Banners, and swords, and plumes, and hear the sound 
 Of the keen trumpets, while our bosoms bound : 
 
 'Tis music breathing loud, 
 Triumph, victorious triumph, glad and proud. 
 
 Now swells the strain in one grand solemn roll, 
 In march majestic sounding through the soul. 
 
 It seems to bid the knee to sink, the eye 
 
 In deepest awe, yet trust, to seek the sky. 
 It seems to breathe of God, and deeply say, 
 Man, creature of his love, bow down and pray ! 
 
 Full is the sound of most divine emotion — 
 'Tis music in devotion. 
 
 Then with mild fire 
 His trembling lyre 
 
 Strikes Poesy, and Nature gleams 
 
 With all her sunshine, flowers, and streams ; 
 
 Bright Fancy's haunted realm is spread, 
 
 And aiiy, flitting beings tread 
 
 From its rich beauty, brightening to the mind ; 
 
 The lover wanders in the moonlight sweet ; 
 
 The warrior mounts his battle-steed, to bind 
 
 His bow with wreaths, and youths and maidens greet 
 Spring's laughing hours with dancing feet ; 
 Thus all the shapes the heart 
 Can dream, arise and act in Poesy's high art. 
 
 Last Eloquence, 
 With feeling burning and intense, 
 Loosens its tongue ; in honeyed accents now 
 
352 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 It bends each will, it makes each bosom bow, 
 
 Witching the sense away ; 
 Then, like a warrior rising from the fray, 
 Crying " To arms ! to arms !" it swells and soars 
 In flight triumphant — like a stream that pours 
 Down in a torrent — all our wills are borne 
 On in one course, urged by this magic power 
 That lifts its radiant head, the crowned king of the hour. 
 
 Thus the three 
 Weave the strong spells of their harmony 
 Over the burning hearts made subject to their sway. 
 Coals are they from the loftiest shrine 
 Of intellect ; their birthplace is divine. 
 Sparks are they, brightly born of heaven's own ray. 
 Their errand should be lofty : to refine 
 The soul, to purify the heart, to bend 
 Our every feeling to a holy end ; 
 From stains of earth to make our spirits free, 
 And thus to consecrate our tyves, oh Heaven, to thee ! 
 
 THE BOBOLINK.— From Our Young Folks. 
 
 G. H, Barnes. 
 Merry meadow bobolink ! 
 White as snow and black as ink — 
 White the ruffle round your throat, 
 Black your glossy velvet coat ; 
 White your crest, and black your bill, 
 And your bosom blacker still ; 
 Little piebald, babbling elf, 
 Caring only for yourself, 
 Ever joyous, ever singing, 
 Ever through the lilies winging, 
 Flitting here and flashing there, 
 Never quiet any where — 
 Do you ever stop to think, 
 Merry meadow bobolink ? 
 What a funny song you sing 
 While you flutter on the wing ! 
 , Rest, then, birdie, on that stake ; 
 Keep your black eyes wide awake ; 
 Don't you laugh, and don't you wink, 
 While I tell you, bobolink, 
 In a half a dozen rounds, 
 How your rattling nonsense sounds, 
 When your crooked carol crazes 
 School-boys, birds, and bees, and daisies. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 353 
 
 " t Bobolink, link-a-tink V Ho, pretty lass ! 
 
 Up in the sunny sky, down in the grass. 
 
 Good morning, Miss Jenny Wren ; sweetly you look, 
 
 With feathers so bright from a wash in the brook. 
 
 ' Tweet-a-lee, tweet-a-lee, link-a-ti-ting V 
 
 Come, Jenny, with me, on the daisies, and swing ; 
 
 And out of their cups, my darling, we'll drink 
 
 Dew-drops and honey-drops, ' tweet bobolink /' " 
 
 *' Twittering lady-bird, dressed in blue, 
 Swallow of summer, good morning to you ; 
 * Pe-le-weet, pe-le-weet /' your flight is so fleet, 
 Your shadow goes dancing over the wheat, 
 And over the mower, who leans on his scythe 
 To list to my song, so merry and blithe ; 
 ' Tink-a-lum, tink-a-lum J y sprite of the air, 
 Bobolink wishes your love to share." 
 
 1 ' Hallo ! Kitty Catbird, what is the matter? 
 ''Click, plash, twang, clatter-ti-clatter V 
 Come here on the lilies, and swing and swing, 
 Bobolink ballads together we'll sing." 
 
 i; 'Tweet, tweet V Goldfinch, out in the grove, 
 Filling the shade with a chirrup of love, 
 Trilling your song in one little note, 
 Just hear a tune from a bobolink's throat." 
 
 " 'Tu-ra-lee, tu-ra-leeV cherries and clover; 
 
 Johnny's come home from the war that is over ! 
 
 Bessie is down in the grass on her nest, 
 
 Brooding young bobolinks under her breast ; 
 
 Lilies bend over the water, I think, 
 
 To look at their beauty — never to drink ; 
 
 So here on the fence /sit and sing, 
 
 Proud as a popinjay, * link-a-ti-ling V 
 
 'Ho, ho, cleet ! cleet /' Some other fine day, 
 
 My gay little finch, I'll finish my lay. 
 
 Good-by for the present. I'd pipe a refrain, 
 
 But here comes a school-boy down through the lane. 
 
 I know by his step, I know by his wink, 
 
 He's a stone in his hand for poor Bobolink. 
 
 Good-by, little birds ; * tril-i-link /' good-by ; 
 
 I've opened my wings, and away I must fly." 
 
 So the black-eyed bobolink, 
 With a mighty knowing wink, 
 Gives his snowy cap a shake, 
 Flutters from the leaning stake, 
 
354 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And across the clover-bed, 
 Turning now and then his head, 
 Clears the meadow in his track 
 Ere he folds his wings of black : 
 And we hear him, as he passes 
 Gayly o'er the nodding grasses, 
 Singing ' ' Ting-a-ling-a-link I 
 I'm a merry bobolink." 
 
 THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 
 I galloped, Dirk galloped, we galloped all three : 
 " Good speed !" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew, 
 "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping. through. 
 Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
 And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 
 
 Not a word to each other ; we«kept the great pace — 
 Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; 
 I turned to my saddle and made its girths tight, 
 Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, 
 Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
 Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 
 
 'Tw'as a moonset at starting ; but while we drew near 
 
 Lo'keren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear ; 
 
 At Boom a great yellow star came out to see ; 
 
 At Diiffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be ; 
 
 And from MSch'eln (meYlin) church-steeple we heard the half-chime, 
 
 So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!" 
 
 At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
 To stare through the mist at us galloping past ; 
 And I saw my stout galloper Ro'land at last, 
 With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
 The haze as some bluff river headland its spray ; 
 
 And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
 For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; 
 And one eye's black intelligence — ever that glance 
 O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ; 
 And the thick, heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon 
 His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 
 
 By Has'selt Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! 
 Your Boos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her j 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 355 
 
 We'll remember at Aix" (aks) — for one heard the quick wheeze 
 Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees, 
 And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
 As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 
 
 So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
 
 Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; 
 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 
 
 'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff; 
 
 Till over by Dal'Iiem a dome-spire sprang white, 
 
 And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight !" 
 
 "How they'll greet us !" — and all in a moment his roan 
 Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
 And there was my Ro'land to bear the whole weight 
 Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
 With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
 And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 
 
 Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, 
 
 Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
 
 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
 
 Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer — 
 
 Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good, 
 
 Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 
 
 And all I remember is friends flocking round, 
 
 As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground ; 
 
 And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
 
 As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
 
 Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
 
 Was no more than his due, who brought good news from Ghent (gent). 
 
 THE PASSIONS. 
 
 William Collins. 
 When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
 While yet in early Greece she sung, 
 The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
 Thronged around her magic cell — 
 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting — 
 Possessed beyond the Muse's painting ; 
 By turns they felt the glowing mind 
 Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined ; 
 Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, 
 Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, 
 From the supporting myrtles round 
 They snatched her instruments of sound ; 
 
356 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 And, as they oft had heard apart 
 Sweet lessons of her forceful art, 
 Each (for Madness ruled the hour) 
 Would prove his own expressive power. 
 
 First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 
 
 Amid the chords bewildered laid, 
 And back recoiled, he knew not why, 
 
 E'en at the sound himself had made. 
 
 Next Anger rushed ; his eyes, on fire, 
 
 In lightnings owned his secret stings : 
 In one rude clash he struck the lyre, 
 
 And swept with hurried hand the strings. 
 
 With woful measures wan Despair, 
 
 Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled — 
 A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 
 
 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. 
 
 But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair — 
 What was thy delightful measure ? 
 Still it whispered promised pleasure, 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! 
 
 Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
 
 She called on Echo still, through all the song ; 
 And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 
 A soft responsive voice w r as heard at every close ; 
 
 And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair. 
 
 And longer had she sung — but, with a frown, 
 
 Revenge impatient rose ; 
 He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, 
 
 And, with a withering look, 
 
 The war-denouncing trumpet took, 
 And blew a blast so loud and dread, 
 Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ! 
 
 And, ever and anon, he beat 
 
 The doubling drum, with furious heat ; 
 And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, 
 
 Dejected Pity, at his side, 
 
 Her soul-subduing voice applied, 
 Yet still he kept his wild, unaltered mein, 
 While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head. 
 Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed — 
 
 Sad proof of thy distressful state ; 
 Of differing themes the veering song was mixed ; 
 
 And now it courted Love — now, raving, called on Hate. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 357 
 
 With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
 
 Pale Melancholy sat retired ; 
 
 And, from her wild, sequestered seat, 
 
 In notes by distance made more sweet, 
 
 Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; 
 
 And, dashing soft from rocks around, 
 
 Bubbling runnels joined the sound ; 
 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole ; 
 
 Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 
 Kound a holy calm diffusing, 
 Love of Peace, and lonely musing, 
 
 In hollow murmurs died away. 
 
 But oh ! how altered was its sprightlier tone 
 When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
 
 Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
 
 Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, 
 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung — 
 
 The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known ! 
 The oak-crowned Sisters, and their chaste-eyed que«n, 
 
 Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen 
 
 Peeping from forth their alleys green ; ^ 
 
 Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; 
 
 And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 
 Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 
 He, with viny crown advancing, 
 
 First to the lively pipe his hand addressed ; 
 But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, 
 
 Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best ; 
 They would have thought, who heard the strain, 
 
 They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, 
 
 Amidst the festal-sounding shades, 
 To some unwearied minstrel dancing, 
 While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 
 Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : 
 Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; 
 
 And he, amidst his frolic play, 
 
 As if he would the charming air repay, 
 Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. 
 
 O Music ! sphere-descending maid, 
 Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid ! 
 Why, goddess ! why, to us denied, 
 Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? 
 As, in that loved Athenian bower, 
 You learned an all-commanding power, 
 Thy mimic soul, O nymph endeared, 
 
358 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Can well recall what then it heard ; 
 Where is thy native simple heart, 
 Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art ? 
 Arise, as in that elder tim.?, 
 Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime ; 
 Thy wonders, in that godlike age, 
 Fill thy recording sister's page •, 
 'Tis said — and I believe the tale — 
 Thy humblest reed could more prevail, 
 Had more of strength, diviner rage, 
 Than all which charms this laggard age — 
 E'en all at once together found — 
 Cecilia's mingled world of sound. 
 Oh, bid our vain endeavors cease, 
 Revive the just designs of Greece; 
 Return in all thy simple state — 
 Confirm the tales her sons relate. 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE SUNSHINE.— In Memorial 
 
 Through the doorway flowed the sunshine 
 
 In a flood of molten gold ; 
 Like a cataract of glory, 
 
 Down the rifted clouds it rolled. 
 
 While a child upon the carpet 
 
 Laughing ran to where it lay, 
 With its little hands outreaching, 
 
 Like a dream it fled away. 
 
 For a cloud had wandered o'er us, 
 
 And the blue of heaven had gone, 
 And the dark wings of the tempest 
 
 Beat the sullen air alone. 
 
 Still the child, his hands extended, 
 
 Gazed upon the vacant floor, 
 Waiting, watching for the sunshine 
 
 Which would come that day no more. 
 
 Happy childhood ! watching, waiting, 
 
 In your sweet and rosy glow, 
 You will follow hopes as fleeting 
 
 In the path your feet must go. 
 
 And your longing heart will linger 
 
 Where the joy-rays dimly burn, 
 For the warm and pleasant sunshine 
 
 That will never more returnr 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 359 
 
 TOLERATION.— An Apologue. 
 
 Jeremy Taylor.* 
 
 When Abraham sat at his tent door, according to his 
 custom, waiting to entertain strangers, he espied an old man 
 stooping and leaning on his staff, weary with age and trav- 
 el, coming towards him, who was a hundred years of age. 
 
 He received him kindly, washed his feet, provided sup- 
 per, and caused him to sit down ; but, observing that the 
 old man ate and prayed not, nor begged for a blessing on 
 his meat, asked him why he did not worship the God of 
 Heaven. The old man told him that he worshiped the fire 
 only, and acknowledged no other God; at which answer 
 Abraham grew so zealously angry that he thrust the old 
 man out of his tent, and exposed him to all the evils of the 
 night and an unguarded condition. 
 
 When the old man was gone, God called to Abraham, 
 and asked him where the stranger was. He replied, " I 
 thrust him away because he did not worship Thee :" God 
 answered him, " I have suffered him these hundred years, al- 
 though he dishonored me, and couldst thou not endure him 
 one night, when he gave thee no trouble ?" Upon this, saith 
 the story, Abraham fetched him back again, and gave him 
 hospitable entertainment and wise instruction. Go thou 
 and do likewise, and thy charity will be rewarded by the 
 God of Abraham. 
 
 FROM THE DODGE CLUB, OR ITALY IN MDCCCLIX. 
 
 James de Mille. 
 La Cica did not speak the best English in the world, yet 
 that could not account for all the singular remarks which 
 she made, still less could it account for the tender interest 
 of her manner. She had remarkably bright eyes. Why 
 wandered those eyes so often to his, and why did they beam 
 with such devotion — beaming for a moment only to fall in 
 sweet innocent confusion ? La Cica had the most fascina- 
 
 * Jeremy Taylor, one of the most eminent of English divines, and often 
 styled the Shakspeare of theological literature, was born in Cambridge, En- 
 gland, in or about the year 1602. He died in 1667. 
 
360 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 ting manners, yet they were often perplexing to the sena- 
 tor's soul. 
 
 " The countess," he thought, " is a most remarkably fine 
 woman ; but she does use her eyes uncommon, and I do 
 wish she wouldn't be quite so demonstrative." 
 
 At last the senator came to this conclusion : La Cica was 
 desperately in love with him. 
 
 She appeared to be a widow. Now if the poor Cica was 
 hopelessly in love, it must be stopped at once. For he was 
 a married man, and his good lady still lived, with a very 
 large family, most of the members of which had grown up. 
 
 La Cica ought to know this. She ought indeed. But 
 let the knowledge be given delicately, not abruptly. 
 
 On the following evening they walked on the balcony of 
 La Cica?s noble residence. She was sentimental, devoted, 
 charming. » 
 
 The conversation of a fascinating woman does not look 
 so well when reported as it is when uttered. Her power is 
 in her tone, her glance, her manner. Who can catch the 
 evanescent beauty of her expression or the deep tenderness 
 of her well-modulated voice ? Who indeed ? 
 
 " Does ze scene please you, my senator ?" 
 
 " Very much indeed." 
 
 " Youar countrymen haf tol me zey would like to stay 
 here alio way." 
 
 " It is a beautiful place." 
 
 " Did you aiver see any thin moaire loafely ?" And the 
 countess looked full in his face. 
 
 " Never," said the senator, earnestly. The next instant 
 he blushed. He had been betrayed into a compliment. 
 
 The countess sighed. 
 
 " Helas ! my senator, that it is not pairmitted to moartals 
 to sociate as zey would laike." 
 
 u ' Your senator,' " thought the gentleman thus addressed ; 
 " how fond, how tender — poor thing ! poor thing !" 
 
 " I wish that Italy was nearer to the States," said he. 
 
 " How I adamiar youar style of mind, so differente from 
 ze Italiana. You are so stong — so nobile. Yet would I 
 laike to see moar of ze poetic in you." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 361 
 
 *l always loved poetry, marm," said the senator, desper- 
 ately. 
 
 " Ah ! — good — nais — eccelente. I am plees at zat," cried 
 the countess, with much animation. u You would loafe it 
 moar eef you knew Italiano. Your langua ees not sufficiente 
 musicale for poatry." 
 
 " It is not so soft a language as the ./"-talian." 
 
 " Ah ! no — not so soft. Very well. And what theenka 
 you of ze Italiano ?" 
 
 ** The sweetest language I ever heard in all my born days." 
 
 " Ah ! now — you hev not heard much of ze Italiano, my 
 senator." 
 
 " I have heard you speak often," said the senator, naively. 
 
 " Ah ! you compliment ! I sot you was aboove flattera." 
 
 And the countess playfully tapped his arm with her little 
 fan. 
 
 " What Ingelis poet do you loafe best ?" 
 
 " Poet ? English poet ?" said the senator, with some sur- 
 prise. " Oh — why, marm, I think Watts is about the best 
 of the lot." 
 
 " Watt ? Was he a poet ? I did not know zat. He who 
 invented ze stim-injaine ? And yet, if he was a poet, it is 
 naturale zat you loafe him best." 
 
 " Steam-engine? Oh no ! This one was a minister." 
 
 *{ A meeneestaire ? Ah ! an abbe ? I know him not. 
 Yet I haf read mos of all youar poets." 
 
 " He made up hymns, marm, and psalms — for instance : 
 1 Watts's Divine Hymns and Spiritual Songs.' " 
 
 " Songs ? Spirituelle ? Ah ! I mus at once procuaire ze 
 works of Watt, which was favorit poet of my senator." 
 
 " A lady of such intelligence as you would like the poet 
 Watts," said the senator, firmly. " He is the best known 
 by far of all our poets." 
 
 " What ! better zan Shakspeare, Milton, Bairon ? You 
 much surprass me." 
 
 " Better known and better loved than the whole lot. 
 Why, his poetry is known by heart through all England 
 and America." 
 
 " Merciful heaven ! what vou tell me! ees ect possibl! 
 
 Q 
 
362 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 An yet he is not known here efen by name. It would please 
 me mooch, my senator, to haire you make one quotation e. 
 Know you Watt ? Tell me some words of his which I may 
 remembaire." 
 
 "I have a shocking bad memory." 
 
 " Bad memora ! Oh, but you remember somethin, zis 
 most beautiful charm nait— you haf a nobile soul — you must 
 be affeeta by beauty— by ze ideal. Make for me one quo- 
 tatione." 
 
 And she rested her little hand on the senator's arm, and 
 looked up imploringly in his face. 
 
 The senator looked foolish. He felt even more so. Here 
 was a beautiful woman, by act and look showing a tender 
 interest in him. Perplexing — but very flattering after all. 
 So he replied : - 
 
 " You will not let me refuse you any thing." 
 
 " Aha ! you are vera willin to refuse. It is difficulty for 
 me to excitare youar regards. You are fill with the grands 
 ideas. But come — will you spik for me som from your fa- 
 vorit Watt ?" 
 
 " Well, if you wish it so much," said the senator, kindly, 
 and he hesitated. 
 
 " Ah ! I do wish it so much !" 
 
 "Ehem!" 
 
 "Begin," said the countess. "Behold me. I listen. I 
 hear everysin, and will remember it forava." 
 
 The only thing that the senator could 'think of was the 
 verse which had been running in his head for the last few 
 days, its measured rhythm keeping time with every occupa- 
 tion: 
 
 " ' My willing soul would stay — ? " 
 
 " Stop one moment," said the countess. " I weesh to learn 
 it from you ;" and she looked fondly and tenderly up, but 
 instantly dropped her eyes. 
 
 " ' Ma willina sol wooda sta — ' " 
 
 " ' In such a frame as this,' " prompted the senator. 
 
 u c Een socha framas zees.' Wait — f Ma willina sol wooda 
 sta in socha framas zees.' Ah! appropriat; but could I 
 hope zat you were true to zose lines, my senator ? Well ?" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 363 
 
 * ' And sit and sing herself away,' " said the senator, in a 
 faltering voice, and breaking out into a cold perspiration for 
 fear of committing himself by such uncommonly strong lan- 
 guage. 
 
 u ' Ansit ansin hassaf awai,' " repeated the countess, her 
 face lighting up with a sweetly conscious expression. 
 
 The senator paused. 
 
 " I — ehem ! I forget." 
 
 " Forget ? Impossible !" 
 
 "I do really." 
 
 " Ah now ! Forget ? I see by your face — you desave. 
 Say on." 
 
 The countess again gently touched his arm with- both her 
 little hands, and held it as though she would clasp it. 
 
 " Have you fear ? Ah ! cruel." 
 
 The senator turned pale, but finding refusal impossible, 
 boldly finished : 
 
 " ' To everlasting bliss' — there !" 
 
 " 'To affarlastin blees thar.' Stop. I repeat it all: 'Ma 
 willina sol wooda sta een socha framas zees, ansit ansin has- 
 saf awai to affarlastin blees thar.' Am I right?" 
 
 " Yes," said the senator, meekly. 
 
 " I knew you were a poetic sola," said the countess, con- 
 fidingly. "You air honesto — true — you can not desave. 
 When you spik I can beliv you. Ah ! my senator ; an you 
 can spik zis poetry ! — at soch a toime ! I nefare knew be- 
 foare zat you so impassione ! — an you air so artaful ! You 
 breeng ze confersazione to beauty — to poatry — to ze poet 
 Watt — so you may spik verses mos impassione ! Ah ! what 
 do you mean ? Santissima mad re ! how I wish you spik 
 Italiano." 
 
 The countess drew nearer to him, but her approach only 
 deepened his perplexity. 
 
 " How that poor thing does love me !" sighed the senator. 
 " Law bless it ! she can't help it — can't help it nohow. She 
 is a goner ; and what can I do ? I'll have to leave Florence." 
 
 The countess was standing close beside him in a tender 
 mood waiting for him to break the silence. How could he ? 
 He had been uttering words which sounded to her like 
 
364 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 love ; and she — " a widow ! a widow ! wretched man that I 
 am!" 
 
 There was a pause. The longer it lasted the more awk- 
 ward the senator felt. What upon earth was he to do or 
 say? What business had he to go and quote* poetry to 
 widows ? What an old fool he must be ! But the countess 
 was very far from feeling awkward. Assuming an elegant 
 attitude, she looked up, her face expressing the tenderest 
 solicitude. 
 
 "What ails my senator?" 
 
 "Why, the fact is, marm — I feel sad — at leaving Florence. 
 I must go shortly. My wife has written summoning me 
 home. The children are down with the measles." 
 
 Oh, base fabrication ! Oh> false senator ! There wasn't 
 a word of truth in that last, remark. You spoke so because 
 you wished La Cica to know that you had a wife and fam- 
 ily. Yet it was very badly done. 
 
 La Cica changed neither her attitude nor her expression. 
 Evidently the existence of his w r ife, and the melancholy sit- 
 uation of his unfortunate children, awakened no sympathy. 
 
 " But my senator — did you not say you wooda seeng you- 
 sellef away to affarlastin blees ?" 
 
 " Oh, marm, it was a quotation — only a quotation." 
 
 But at this critical juncture the conversation was broken 
 up by the arrival of a number of ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 But could the senator have known ! 
 
 Could he have known how and Avhere those words would 
 confront him again ! 
 
 SAM WELLER'S VALENTINE. 
 
 Charles Dickens. 
 Mr. Weller having obtained leave of absence from Mr. 
 Pickwick, who, in his then state of excitement and worry, 
 was by no means displeased at being left alone, set forth 
 long before the appointed hour ; and, having plenty of time 
 at his disposal, sauntered down as far as the Mansion House, 
 where he paused and contemplated, with a face of great 
 calmness and philosophy, the numerous cads and drivers of 
 short stages who assemble near that famous place of resort, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 3G5 
 
 to the great terror and confusion of the old-lady population 
 of these realms. Having loitered here for half an hour or 
 so, Mr. Weller turned, and began wending his way towards 
 Leadenhall Market, through a variety of by-streets and 
 courts. 
 
 As he was sauntering away his spare time, and stopped to 
 look at almost every object that met his gaze, it is by no 
 means surprising that Mr. Weller should have paused before 
 a small stationer's and print-seller's window ; but, without 
 further explanation, it does appear surprising that his eyes 
 should have no sooner rested on certain pictures which were 
 exposed for sale therein, than he gave a sudden start, smote 
 his right leg with great vehemence, and exclaimed with en- 
 ergy, "If it hadn't been for this, I should ha' forgot all 
 about it till it was too late !" 
 
 The particular picture on which Sam Weller's eyes were 
 fixed, as he said this, was a highly-colored representation of 
 a pair of human hearts skewered together with an arrow, 
 cooking before a cheerful fire, while a male and a female 
 cannibal in modern attire — the gentleman being clad in a 
 blue coat and white trowsers, and the lady in a deep red pe- 
 lisse with a parasol of the same — were approaching the meal 
 with hungry eyes, up a serpentine gravel path leading there- 
 unto. 
 
 A decidedly indelicate young gentleman, in a pair of wings 
 and nothing else, was depicted as superintending the cook- 
 ing; a representation of the spire of the church in Langhorn 
 Place appeared in the distance ; and the whole formed a 
 " valentine," of which, as a written inscription in the window 
 testified, there was a large assortment within, which the 
 shopkeeper pledged himself to dispose of to his countrymen 
 generally at the reduced rate of one and sixpence each. 
 
 "I should ha' forgot it — I should certainly have forgot 
 it !" said Sam ; and, so saying, he at once stepped into the 
 stationer's shop, and requested to be served with a sheet of 
 the best gilt-edged letter-paper, and a hard-nibbed pen which 
 could be warranted not to splutter. These articles having 
 been promptly supplied, he walked on direct towards Lead- 
 enhall Market at a good round pace, very different from his 
 
■■.*■ 
 
 366 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 recent lingering one. Looking round him, he there beheld 
 a sign-board on which the painter's art had delineated some- 
 thing remotely resembling a cerulean elephant with an aqui- 
 line nose in lieu of a trunk. Rightly conjecturing that this 
 was the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into the house, and 
 inquired concerning his parent. 
 
 " He won't be here this three quarters of an hour or more," 
 said the young lady who superintended the domestic ar- 
 rangements of the Blue Boar. 
 
 " Wery good, my dear," replied Sam. " Let me have nine 
 penn'orth o' brandy and water luke, and the inkstand, will 
 you, miss ?" 
 
 The brandy and water luke and the inkstand having been 
 carried into the little parlor, and the young lady having care- 
 fully flattened down the coals to prevent their blazing, and 
 carried away the poker to preclude the possibility of the fire 
 being stirred without the full privity and, concurrence of the 
 Blue Boar being first had and obtained, Sam Weller sat him- 
 self down in a box near the stove, and pulled out the sheet 
 of gilt-edged letter-paper, and the hard-nibbed pen. Then, 
 looking carefully at the pen to see that there were no hairs 
 in it, and dusting down the table so that there might be no 
 crumbs of bread under the paper, Sam tucked up the cuffs 
 of his coat, squared his elbows, and composed himself to 
 write. 
 
 To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of de- 
 voting themselves practically to the science of penmanship, 
 writing a letter is no very easy task, it being always con- 
 sidered necessary in such cases for the writer to incline his 
 head on his left arm, so as to place his eyes as nearly as pos- 
 sible on a level with the paper, and, while glancing sideways 
 at the letters he is constructing, to form with his tongue 
 imaginary characters to correspond. These motions, al- 
 though unquestionably of the greatest assistance to origi- 
 nal composition, retard in some degree the progress of the 
 writer, and Sam had unconsciously been a full hour and a 
 half writing words in small text, smearing out wrong letters 
 with his little finger, and putting in new ones which required, 
 going over very often to render them visible through the 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 367 
 
 old blots, when he was roused by the opening of the door 
 and the entrance of his parent. 
 
 " Yell, Sammy," said the father. 
 
 "Yell, my Prooshan Blue," responded the son, laying 
 down his pen, " what's the last bulletin about mother-in- 
 law?" 
 
 " Mrs. Yeller passed a wery good night, but is uncommon 
 perwerse and unpleasant this mornin' — signed upon oath- 
 Tony Yeller, Esquire. That's the last vun as was issued, 
 Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, untying his shawl. 
 
 " No better yet ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 " All the symptoms aggerawated," replied Mr. Weller, 
 shaking his head. "But wot's that you're doin' of— pursuit 
 of knowledge under difficulties — eh, Sammy ?" 
 
 " I've done now," said Sam, with slight embarrassment ; 
 " I've been a writin'." 
 
 " So I see," replied Mr. Weller. " Not to any young 'oom- 
 an, I hope, Sammy." 
 
 " Why, it's no use a sayin' it ain't," replied Sam. " It's a 
 walentine." 
 
 "A what!" exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror- 
 stricken by the word. 
 
 " A walentine," replied Sam. 
 
 * Samivel, Samivel," said Mr. Weller, in reproachful ac- 
 cents, u I didn't think you'd ha' done it. Arter the warnin' 
 you've had o' your father's wicious propensities ; arter all 
 I've said to you upon this here wery subject ; arter actiwal- 
 ly seein' and bein' in the company o' your own mother-in- 
 law, vich I should ha' thought wos a moral lesson as no man 
 could ever ha' forgotten to his dyin' day ! I didn't think 
 you'd ha' done it, Sammy — I didn't think you'd ha' done it." 
 These reflections were too much for the good old man. He 
 raised Sam's tumbler to his lips and drank off its contents. 
 
 " Wot's the matter now ?" said Sam. 
 
 " Nev'r mind, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, " it'll be a 
 wery agonizin' trial to me at my time o' life, but I'm pretty 
 tough, that's vun consolation, as the wery old turkey re- 
 marked when the farmer said he was afeercl he should be 
 obliged to kill him for the London market." 
 
388 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 " Wot'll be a trial ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 " To see you married, Sammy — to see you a dilluded wic- 
 tim, and thinkin' in your innocence that it's all wery capital," 
 replied Mr. Weller. " It's a dreadful trial to a father's feel- 
 in's, that 'ere, Sammy." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Sam ; " I ain't a goin' to get married ; 
 don't you fret yourself about that ; I know you're a judge of 
 these things. Order in your pipe, and I'll read you the let- 
 ter — there." 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 We can not distinctly say whether it was the prospect of 
 the pipe, or the consolatory reflection that a fatal disposi- 
 tion to get married ran in the family and couldn't be helped, 
 which calmed Mr. Weller's feelings, and caused his grief to 
 subside. We should be rather disposed to say that the result 
 was attained by combining the two sources of consolation, 
 for he repeated the second in a low tone very frequently, 
 ringing the bell meanwhile to order in the first. He then di- 
 vested himself of his upper coat, and lighting the pipe, and 
 placing himself in front of the fire, with his back towards it, 
 so that he could feel its full heat and recline against the 
 mantel-piece at the same time,, turned towards Sam, and, 
 with a countenance greatly mollified by the softening influ- 
 ence of tobacco, requested him to "fire away." 
 
 Sam dipped his pen into the ink, to be ready for any cor- 
 rections, and began with a very theatrical air : 
 
 " ' Lovely—' " 
 
 "Stop," said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. "A double 
 glass o' the invariable, my dear." 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied the girl, who with great quick- 
 ness appeared, vanished, returned, and disappeared. 
 
 il They seem to know your ways here," observed Sam. 
 
 u Yes," replied his father, " I've been here before in my 
 time. Go on, Sammy." 
 
 " ' Lovely creetur'," repeated Sam. 
 
 " 'Tain't in poetry, is it ?" interposed the father. 
 
 " No, no," replied Sam. 
 
 "Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. "Poetry's un- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 36 & 
 
 nat'ral ; no man ever talked in poetry 'cept a beadle on box- 
 in'-day, or Warren's blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some o' 
 them low fellers ; never let yourself down to talk poetry, 
 my boy. Begin again, Sammy." 
 
 Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity, and 
 Sam once more commenced, and read as follows : 
 
 " ' Lovely creetur', I feel myself a charmed — ' " 
 
 M That ain't proper," said Mr. Weller, taking his pipe from 
 his mouth. 
 
 " No, it ain't charmed," observed Sam, holding the letter 
 up to the light; "it's 'shamed; there's a blot there — 'I feel 
 myself ashamed.' " 
 
 " Wery good," said Mr. Weller. " Go on." 
 
 " ' Feel myself ashamed and completely cir — ' I forget wot 
 this here word is," said Sam, scratching his head with the 
 pen, in vain attempts to remember. 
 
 " Why don't you look at it, then ?" inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 " So I am a lookin' at it," replied Sam, " but there's an- 
 other blot ; here's a ' c,' and a ' i,' and a ' d.' " 
 
 " Circumwented, p'r'aps," suggested Mr. Weller. 
 
 " No, it ain't that," said Sam ; " circumscribed — that's it." 
 
 "That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy," 
 said Mr. Weller, gravely. 
 
 "Think not?" said Sam. 
 
 " Nothin' like it," replied his father. 
 
 " But don't you think it means more ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 " Yell, p'r'aps it is a more tenderer word," said Mr. Weller, 
 after a few moments' reflection. " Go on, Sammy." 
 
 " ' Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in 
 a dressin' of you, for you are a nice gal, and nothin' but it." 
 
 "That's a wery pretty sentiment," said the elder Mr. 
 Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark. 
 
 " Yes, I think it is rayther good," observed Sam, highly 
 flattered. 
 
 " Wot I like in that 'ere style of writing," said the elder 
 Mr. Weller, " is, that there ain't no callin' names in it— no 
 Wenuses, nor nothin' o' that kind : wot's the good o' callin' 
 a young 'ooman a Wenus or an angel, Sammy ?" 
 
 " Ah ! what, indeed ?" replied Sam. 
 Q2 
 
'31 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 "You might jist as veil call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or 
 a king's arms at once, vich is wery veil known to be a col- 
 lection o' fabulous animals," added Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Just as well," replied Sam. 
 
 " Drive on, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. 
 
 Sam complied with. the request, and proceeded as follows ; 
 his father continuing to smoke with a mixed expression of 
 wisdom and complacency which was particularly edifying. 
 
 " 'Afore I see you I thought all women was alike.' " 
 
 " So they are," observed the elder Mr. Weller, parenthet- 
 ically. 
 
 " ' But now,' " continued Sam, " c now I find what a reg- 
 'lar soft-headed, ink-red'lous turnip I must ha' been, for there 
 ain't nobody like you, though I like you better than nothin' 
 at all.' I thought it best to make that rayther strong," said 
 Sam, looking up. 
 
 Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed : 
 
 " ' So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary, my dear — 
 as the gen'lem'n in difficulties did ven he valked out of a 
 Sunday — to tell you that the first and only time I see you, 
 your likeness was took on my heart in much quicker time 
 and brighter colors than ever a likeness was took by the 
 profeel macheen (which, p'r'aps, you may have heerd on, 
 Mary, my dear), altho' it does finish a portrait, and puts the 
 frame and glass on complete, with a hook at the end to hang 
 it up by, and all in two minutes and a quarter.' " 
 
 " I am afeered that werges on the poetical, Sammy," said 
 Mr. Weller, dubiously. 
 
 " No, it don't," replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to 
 avoid contesting the point. 
 
 " ' Except of me, Mary, my dear, as your walentine, and 
 think over what I've said. My dear Mary, I will now con- 
 clude.' That's all," said Sam. 
 
 " That's rayther a sudden pull up, ain't it, Sammy ?" in- 
 quired Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Not a bit on it," said Sam ; " she'll vish there vos more, 
 and that's the great art o' letter-writin'." 
 
 u Well," said Mr. Weller, " there's somethin' in that ; and 
 I wish your mother-in-law'd only conduct her conwersation 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 371 
 
 on the same gen-teel principle. Ain't you a goin' to sign 
 it?" 
 
 " That's the difficulty," said Sam ; " I don't know what to 
 sign it." 
 
 " Sign it — Veller," said the oldest surviving proprietor of 
 that name. 
 
 "Won't do," said Sam. "Never sign a walentine with 
 your own name." 
 
 "Sign it — Pickwick, then," said Mr.Weller; "it's a wery 
 good name, and a easy one to spell." 
 
 " The wery thing," said Sam. " I 'could end with a werse ; 
 what do you think ?" 
 
 "I don't like it, Sam," rejoined Mr.Weller. "I never 
 know'd a respectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one 
 as made an affectin' copy o' werses the night afore he was 
 hung for highway robbery, and he was only a Cambervell 
 man, so even that's no rule." 
 
 But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the poetical idea 
 that had occurred to him, so he signed the letter 
 
 " Your love-sick Pickwick," 
 
 and having folded it in a very intricate manner, he squeezed 
 a down-hill direction in one corner — " To Mary, Housemaid, 
 at Mr. Nupkins's, Mayor's, Ipswich, Suffolk" — and put it into 
 his pocket, wafered, and ready for the General Post. 
 
 PUTTING UP STOVES. 
 
 One who has had considerable experience in the work of 
 putting up stoves says the first step to be taken is to put 
 on a very old and ragged coat, under the impression that 
 when he gets his mouth full of plaster it will keep his shirt- 
 bosom clean. Next he gets his hands inside the place where 
 the pipe ought to go, and blacks his fingers, and then he care- 
 fully makes a black mark down one side of his nose. It is 
 impossible to make any headway, in doing this work, until 
 this mark is made down the side of the nose. Having got 
 his face properly marked, the victim is ready to begin the 
 ceremony. The head of the family — who is the big goose 
 of the sacrifice — grasps one side of the bottom of the stove, 
 
372 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 and his wife and the hired girl take hold of the other side. 
 In this way the load is started from the wood-shed towards 
 the parlor. Going through the door, the head of the family 
 w T ill carefully swing his side of the stove around, and jamb 
 his thumb-nail against the door-post. This part of the cer- 
 emony is never omitted. Having got the stove comforta- 
 bly in place, the next thing is to find the legs. Two of these 
 are left inside the stove since the spring before ; the other 
 two must be hunted after for twenty-five minutes. They 
 are usually found under the coal. Then the head of the 
 family holds up one side of the stove while his wife puts two 
 of the legs in place, and next he holds up the other side 
 while the other two are fixed, and one of the first two falls 
 out. By the time the stove is on its legs he gets reckless, 
 and takes off his coat, regardless of his linen. Then he goes 
 off for the pipe, and gets a cinder in his eye. It don't make 
 any difference how well the pipe was put up last year, it will 
 be found a little too short or a little too long. The head of 
 the family jams his hat over his eyes, and, taking a pipe un- 
 der each arm, goes to the tin-shop to have it fixed. When 
 he gets back he steps upon one of the best parlor chairs to 
 see if the pipe fits, and his wife makes him get down for fear 
 he will scratch the varnish off from the chair with the nails 
 in his boot-heel. In getting down he will surely step on the 
 cat, and may thank his stars if it is not the baby. Then he 
 gets an old chair, and climbs up to the chimney again, to 
 find that in cutting the pipe off the end has been left too 
 big for the hole in the chimney. So he goes to the wood- 
 shed, and splits one side of the end of the pipe with an old 
 axe, and squeezes it in his hands to make it smaller. Final- 
 ly he gets the pipe in shape, and finds that the stove does 
 not stand true. Then himself and wife and the hired girl 
 move the stove to the left, and the legs fall out again. Next 
 it is to move to the right. More difficulty with the legs. 
 Moved to the front a little. Elbow not even with the hole 
 in the chimney, and he goes to the wood-shed after some lit- 
 tle blocks. While putting the blocks under the legs the 
 pipe comes out of the chimney. That remedied, the elbow 
 keeps tipping over, to the great alarm of the wife. Head of 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 373 
 
 the family gets the dinner-table out, puts the old chair on it, 
 gets his wife to hold the chair, and balances himself on it, to 
 drive some nails into the ceiling. Drops the hammer on to 
 wife's head. At last gets the nails driven, makes a wire- 
 swing to hold the pipe, hammers a little here, pulls a little 
 there, takes a long breath, and announces the ceremony com- 
 pleted. 
 
 Job never put up any stoves. It would have ruined his 
 reputation if he had. 
 
 THE POWER OF HABIT. 
 
 John B. Gough. 
 
 I remember once riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls. 
 I said to a gentleman, " What river is that, sir ?" 
 
 " That," said he, " is Niagara River." 
 
 " Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I ; " bright, and fair, 
 and glassy. How far off are the rapids ?" 
 
 " Only a mile or two," was the reply. 
 
 "Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the 
 water in the turbulence which it must show near the Falls ?" 
 
 " You will find it so, sir." And so I found it ; and the first 
 sight of Niagara I shall never forget. 
 
 Now, launch your bark on that Niagara River; it is bright, 
 smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow; 
 the silver wake you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. 
 Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper 
 trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion. Sudden- 
 ly some one cries out from the bank," Young men, ahoy /" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " The rapids are below you /" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! we have heard of the rapids, but we are not 
 such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall 
 up with the helm and steer to the shore ; we will set the 
 mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land. 
 Then on, boys ! don't be alarmed ; there is no danger." 
 
 " Young men, ahoy there /" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " The rapids are below you /" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us 
 
374 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 What care we for the future ! No man ever saw it. Suffi- 
 cient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life 
 while we may — will catch pleasure as it flies. This is en- 
 joyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are 
 sailing swiftly with the current." 
 
 " Young men, ahoy !" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Beware ! beware ! The rapids are below you !" 
 
 " Now you see the water foaming all around. See how 
 fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm ! Now turn ! 
 Pull hard! Quick! quick! quick! pull for your lives ! pull 
 till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand 
 like whip-cords upon your brow ! Set the mast in the sock- 
 et ! Hoist the sail ! Ah ! ah ! it is too late ! Shrieking, 
 howling, blaspheming, over they go." 
 
 Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every year, 
 through the power of habit, crying all the while, " When I 
 find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up /" 
 
 CHRYSOSTOM'S ELOQUENCE. 
 
 The following burst of eloquence from Chrysostom, when 
 he was sentenced to banishment, is a good specimen of the 
 stylcof this "silver-tongued" preacher: 
 
 "What can I fear? Will it be death? But you know 
 that Christ is my life, and that I shall gain by death. Will 
 it be exile ? But the earth and all its fullness is the Lord's. 
 Will it be the loss of wealth ? But we brought nothing 
 into the world, and can carry nothing out. Thus all the 
 terrors of the world are contemptible in my eyes, and I 
 smile at all its good things. Poverty I do not fear. Riches 
 I do not sigh for. Death I do not shrink from, and life I do 
 not desire, save only for the progress of your souls. But 
 you know, my friends, the true cause of my fall. It is that 
 I have not lined my house with rich tapestry. It is that I 
 have not clothed me in robes of silk. It is that I have not 
 flattered the effeminacy and sensuality of certain men, nor 
 laid gold and silver at their feet. But why need I say more ? 
 Jezebel is raising her persecution, and Elijah must fly. He- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 375 
 
 rodias is taking her pleasure, and John must be bound in 
 chains. The Egyptian wife tells her lie, and Joseph must 
 be thrust into prison. And so, if they banish me, I shall be 
 like Elias ; if they throw me into the mire, like Jeremiah ; 
 if they plunge me into the sea, like the prophet Jonah ; if 
 into the pit, like Daniel ; if they stone me, it is Stephen that 
 I shall resemble ; John, the forerunner, if they cut off my 
 head ; Paul, if they beat me with stripes ; Isaiah, if they 
 saw me asunder." 
 
 PSALM XXIV.— A Psalm of David. 
 
 The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, 
 and they that dwell therein. 
 
 For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it 
 upon the floods. 
 
 Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ? or who shall 
 stand in Ms holy place ? 
 
 He that hath clean hands and a pure heart ; who hath not 
 lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. 
 
 He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and right- 
 eousness from the God of his salvation. 
 
 This is the generation of them that seek him — that seek 
 thy face, O Jacob. Selah. 
 
 Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye ev- 
 erlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come. in. 
 
 Who is this King of glory ? The Lord strong and mighty, 
 the Lord mighty in battle. 
 
 Lift up your heads, O ye gates — even lift them up, ye ev- 
 erlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in. 
 
 Who is this King of glory ? The Lord of hosts, he is 
 the King of glory. Selah. 
 
 DANTE AND MILTON. 
 
 Macaulay. 
 Milton was, like Dante, a statesman and a lover, and, like 
 Dante, he had been unfortunate in ambition and in love. 
 He had survived his health and his sight, and the comforts 
 of his home and the prosperity of his party. Of the great 
 men by whom he had been distinguished on his entrance 
 
376 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 into life, some had been taken away from the evil to come, 
 some had carried into foreign climates their unconquerable 
 hatred to oppression, some were pining in dungeons, and 
 some had poured forth their blood on scaffolds. That hate- 
 ful proscription facetiously termed the Act of Indemnity and 
 Oblivion had set a mark on the poor, blind, deserted poet, 
 and held him up by name to the hatred of a profligate court 
 and an inconstant people. Venal and licentious scribblers, 
 with just sufficient talent to clothe the thoughts of a pan- 
 der in the style of a bellman, were now the favorite writers 
 of the sovereign and the public. It was a loathsome herd, 
 which could be compared to nothing so fitly as to the rab- 
 ble of Comus — grotesque monsters, half bestial, half human, 
 dropping with wine, bloated with gluttony, and reeling in 
 obscene dances. Amid these his muse was placed, like the 
 chaste lady of the mask, 'lofty, spotless, and serene, to be 
 chatted at, and pointed at, and grinned at by *the whole 
 tribe of satyrs and goblins. 
 
 If ever despondency could be excused in any man, it 
 might have been excused in Milton. But the strength of 
 his mind overcame every calamity. Neither blindness, nor 
 gout, nor penury, nor age, nor domestic afflictions, nor polit- 
 ical disappointments, nor abuse, nor proscription, nor neg- 
 lect had power to disturb his sedate and majestic patience. 
 His spirits do not seem to have been high, but they were 
 singularly equable. His temper was serious, perhaps stern, 
 but it was a temper which no suffering could render sullen 
 or fretful. Such as it was when, on the eve of great events, 
 he returned from his travels, in the prime of health and 
 manly beauty, such it continued to be when, after having 
 experienced every calamity which is incident to our nature 
 — old, poor, sightless, and disgraced — he retired to his hovel 
 to die ! 
 
 GABRIEL GRUB. 
 
 Charles Dickens. 
 In an old abbey-town down in this part of the country, a 
 long, long while ago, there officiated as sexton and grave- 
 digger one Gabriel Grub. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 377 
 
 A little before twilight one Christmas eve, Gabriel shoul- 
 dered his spade, lighted his lantern, and betook himself to* 
 wards the old church-yard, for he had got a grave to finish 
 by next morning, and, feeling very low, he thought it might 
 raise his spirits, perhaps, if he went on with his work at once. 
 As he wended his way up the ancient street, he saw the 
 cheerful light of the blazing fires gleam through the old 
 casements, and heard the loud laugh and the cheerful shouts 
 of those who were assembled around them ; he marked the 
 bustling preparations for next day's good cheer, and smelt 
 the numerous savory odors consequent thereupon, as they 
 steamed up from the kitchen windows in clouds. All this 
 was gall and wormwood to the heart of Gabriel Grub ; and 
 as groups of children bounded out of the houses, tripped 
 across the road, and were met, before they could knock at 
 the opposite door, by half a dozen curly-headed little rascals, 
 who crowded round them as they flocked up stairs to spend 
 the evening in their Christmas games, Gabriel smiled grimly, 
 and clutched the handle of his spade with a firmer grasp as 
 he thought of measles, scarlet fever, thrush, whooping-cough, 
 and a good many other sources of consolation beside. 
 
 In this happy frame of mind Gabriel strode along, return- 
 ing a short, sullen growl to the good-humored greetings of 
 such of his neighbors as now and then passed him, until he 
 turned into the dark lane which led to the church-yard. Now 
 he had been looking forward to reaching the dark lane, be- 
 cause it was, generally speaking, a nice, gloomy, mournful 
 place, and he was not a little indignant to hear a young ur- 
 chin roaring out some jolly song about a merry Christmas 
 in this very sanctuary. So Gabriel waited till the boy came 
 up, and then dodged him into a corner, and rapped him over 
 the head with his lantern five or six times, just to teach him 
 to modulate his voice. And as the boy hurried away with 
 iiis hand to his head, singing quite a different sort of tune, 
 Gabriel Grub chuckled very heartily to himself, and entered 
 the church-yard, locking the door behind him. 
 
 He took off his coat, set down his lantern, and, getting 
 into the unfinished grave, worked at it for an hour or so 
 with right good will. But the earth was hardened with the 
 
378 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 frost, and it was no very easy matter to break it up and 
 shovel it out ; and, although there was a moon, it was a very 
 young one, and shed little light upon the grave, which was 
 in the shadow of the church. At any other time these ob- 
 stacles would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and 
 miserable ; but he was so well pleased with having stopped 
 the small boy's singing that he took little heed of the scanty 
 progress he had made, and looked down into the grave, when 
 he had finished work for the night, with grim satisfaction, 
 murmuring, as he gathered up his things, 
 
 " Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, 
 A few feet of cold earth when life is done. " 
 
 " Ho ! ho I" laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself down 
 on a flat tomb-stone, which was a favorite resting-place of 
 his, and drew forth his wicker bottle ; " a coffin at Christ- 
 mas — a Christmas-box. Ho ! ho ! ho !" 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! ho !" repeated a voice, which sounded close be- 
 hind him.. 
 
 Gabriel paused in some alarm, in the act of raising the 
 wicker bottle to his lips, and looked round. The bottom of 
 the oldest grave about him w 7 as not more still and quiet 
 than the church-yard in the pale moonlight. The frost glis- 
 tened on the tomb-stones, and sparkled like rows of gems 
 among the stone carvings of the old church. Not the faint- 
 est rustle broke the profound tranquillity of the solemn 
 scene. Sound itself appeared to be frozen up — all was so 
 cold and still. 
 
 " It was the echoes," said Gabriel Grub, raising the bottle 
 to his lips again. 
 
 " It was not" said a deep voice. 
 
 Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with as- 
 tonishment and terror, for his eyes rested on a form which 
 made his blood run cold. 
 
 Seated on an upright tomb-stone, close to him, w^as a 
 strange, unearthly figure, w T hom Gabriel felt at once was no 
 being of this world. His long, fantastic legs, which might 
 have reached the ground, were cocked up, and crossed after 
 a quaint, fantastic fashion ; his sinewy arms were bare, and 
 his hands rested on his knees. On his short, round body he 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 379 
 
 wore a close covering, ornamented with small slashes, and 
 a short cloak dangled on his back; the collar was. cut into 
 curious peaks, which served the goblin in lieu of ruff or neck- 
 erchief; and his shoes curled up at the toes into long points. 
 On his head he wore a broad-brimmed sugar-loaf hat, gar- 
 nished with a single feather. The hat was covered with 
 the white frost, and the goblin looked as if he had Sat on 
 the same tomb-stone very comfortably for two or three hun- 
 dred years. He was sitting perfectly still ; his tongue was 
 T)ut out, as if in derision ; and he was grinning at Gabriel 
 Grub with such a grin as only a goblin could call up. 
 
 " It was not the echoes," said the goblin. 
 
 Gabriel Grub was paralyzed, and could make no reply. 
 
 " What do you do here on Christmas eve ?" said the gob- 
 lin, sternly. 
 
 " I came to dig a grave, sir," stammered Gabriel Grub. 
 
 " What man wanders among graves and church-yards on 
 6uch a night as this ?" said the goblin. 
 
 " Gabriel Grub ! Gabriel Grub !" screamed a wild chorus 
 of voices that seemed to fill the church-yard. Gabriel look- 
 ed fearfully round — nothing was to be seen. 
 
 " What have you got in that bottle ?" said the goblin. 
 
 " Hollands, sir," replied the sexton, trembling more than 
 ever ; for he had bought it of the smugglers, and he thought 
 that perhaps his questioner might be in the excise depart- 
 ment of the goblins. 
 
 " Who drinks Hollands in a church-yard on such a night 
 as this ?" said the goblin. 
 
 " Gabriel Grub ! Gabriel Grub !" exclaimed the wild voices 
 again. 
 
 The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified sexton, and 
 then, raising his voice, exclaimed, 
 
 "And who, then, is our fair and lawful prize ?" 
 
 To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, in a strain 
 that sounded like the voices of many choristers singing to 
 the mighty swell of the old church organ— a strain that 
 seemed borne to the sexton's ears upon a gentle wind, and 
 to die away as its soft breath passed onward ; but the bur- 
 den of the reply was still the same — " Gabriel Grub ! Ga- 
 briel Grub !" 
 
380 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 The goblin grinned a broader grin than before as he said, 
 " Well, Gabriel, what do you say to this ?" 
 
 The sexton gasped for breath. 
 
 "It's — it's — very curious, sir, very curious, and very 
 pretty ; but I think I'll go back and finish my work, sir, if 
 you please." 
 
 " Work !" said the goblin ; " what work ?" . 
 
 " The grave, sir — making the grave," stammered the sex- 
 ton. 
 
 " Oh, the grave, eh ?" said the goblin ; " who makes graves 
 at a time when all other men are merry, and takes a pleas- 
 ure in it ?" 
 
 Again the mysterious voices replied, " Gabriel Grub ! Ga- 
 briel Grub !" 
 
 " I'm afraid my friends* want you, Gabriel — I'm afraid my 
 friends want you." 
 
 "Under favor, sir, I don't think they can, sir; they don't 
 know me, sir ; I don't think the gentlemen have ever seen 
 me, sir." 
 
 "Oh, yes they have." "We know the man with the 
 sulky face and the grim scowl, that came down the street 
 to-night, throwing his evil looks at the children, and grasp- 
 ing his burying-spade the tighter. We know the man that 
 struck the boy, in the envious malice of his heart, because 
 the boy could be merry and he could not. We know him 
 — we know him." 
 
 " I — I — am afraid I must leave you, sir." 
 
 " Leave us ! Gabriel Grub going to leave us ! Ho ! ho ! 
 ho !" 
 
 As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed for one in- 
 stant a brilliant illumination within the windows of the 
 church, as if the whole building were lighted up ; it disap- 
 peared, the organ pealed forth a lively air, and whole troops 
 of goblins, the very counterpart of the first one, poured into 
 the church-yard, and began playing at leap-frog with the 
 tomb-stones, never stopping for an instant to take breath, but 
 overing the highest among them, one after the other, with 
 the most marvelous dexterity. The first goblin was a most 
 astonishing leaper, and none of the others could come near 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 381 
 
 him. Even in the extremity of his terror, the sexton could 
 not help observing that, while his friends were content to 
 leap over the common-sized grave-stones, the first one took 
 the family vaults, iron railings and all, with as much ease as 
 if they had been so many street-posts. 
 
 At last the game reached to a most exciting pitch ; the 
 organ played quicker and quicker, and the goblins leaped 
 faster and faster, coiling themselves up, rolling head over 
 heels upon the ground, and bounding over the tomb-stones 
 like foot-balls. The sexton's brain whirled round with the 
 rapidity of the motion he beheld, and his legs reeled beneath 
 him as the spirits flew before his eyes, when the goblin-king 
 suddenly darted towards him, laid his hand upon his collar, 
 and sank with him through the earth. 
 
 When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his breath, 
 which the rapidity of his descent had for the moment taken 
 away, he found himself in what appeared to be a large cav- 
 ern, surrounded on all sides by crowds of goblins, ugly and 
 grim. In the centre of the room, on an elevated seat, was 
 stationed his friend of the church-yard, and close beside 
 him stood Gabriel Grub himself, without the power of mo- 
 tion. 
 
 M Cold to-night," said the king of the goblins — "very cold, 
 A glass of something warm, here." 
 
 At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, with a 
 perpetual smile upon their faces, whom Gabriel Grub imag- 
 ined to be courtiers on that account, hastily disappeared, 
 and presently returned with a goblet of liquid fire, which 
 they presented to the king. 
 
 " Ah !" said the goblin, whose cheeks and throat were 
 quite transparent as he tossed down the flame, " this warms 
 one indeed ; bring a bumper of the same for Mr. Grub." 
 
 It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest that 
 he was not in the habit of taking any thing warm at night; 
 for one of the goblins held him, while another poured the 
 blazing liquid down his throat; and the whole assembly 
 screeched with laughter as he coughed, and choked, and 
 wiped away the tears which gushed plentifully from his 
 eyes after swallowing the burning draught. 
 
382 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 " And now," said the king, fantastically poking the taper 
 corner of his sugar-loaf hat into the sexton's eye, and there- 
 by occasioning him the most exquisite pain — "and now 
 show the man of misery and gloom a few of the pictures 
 from our own great store-house." 
 
 As the goblin said this, a thick cloud, which obscured the 
 farther end of the cavern, rolled gradually away, and dis- 
 closed, apparently at a great distance, a small and scantily- 
 furnished, but neat and clean apartment. A crowd of little 
 children were gathered round a bright fire, clinging to their 
 mother's gown, and gamboling round her chair. The moth- 
 er occasionally rose, and drew aside the window-curtain, as 
 if to look for some expected object. A frugal meal was 
 ready spread upon the table, and an elbow-chair was placed 
 near the fire. A knock was heard at the door ; the mother 
 opened it, and the children crowded round her, and clapped 
 their hands for joy as their father entered. He was wet and 
 weary, and shook the snow from his garments as the chil- 
 dren crowded round him, and, seizing his cloak, hat, stick, 
 and gloves with busy zeal, ran with them from the room. 
 Then, as he sat down to his meal before the fire, the children 
 climbed about his knee, and the mother sat by his side, and 
 all seemed happiness and comfort. 
 
 But a change came upon the view almost imperceptibly. 
 The scene was altered to a small bedroom, where the fairest 
 and youngest child lay dying ; the roses had fled from his 
 cheek, and the light from his eye ; and, even as the sexton 
 looked upon him, with an interest he had never felt or known 
 before, he died. His young brothers and sisters crowded 
 round his little bed, and seized his tiny hand, so cold and 
 heavy; but they shrank back from its touch, and looked with 
 awe on his infant face ; for, calm and tranquil as it was, and 
 sleeping in rest and peace, as the beautiful child seemed to 
 be, they saw that he was dead, and they knew that he was 
 an angel looking clown upon them and blessing them from 
 a bright and happy heaven. 
 
 Again the light cloud passed across the picture, and again 
 the subject changed. The father and mother were old and 
 helpless now, and the number of those about them was di- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 383 
 
 minished more than half; but content and cheerfulness sat 
 on every face, and beamed in every eye, as they crowded 
 round the fireside, and told and listened to old stories of ear- 
 lier and by-gone days. Slowly and peacefully the father 
 sank into the grave, and, soon after, the sharer of all his 
 cares and troubles followed him to a place of rest and peace. 
 The few who yet survived them knelt by their tomb, and 
 watered the green turf which covered it with their tears ; 
 then rose, and turned away sadly and mournfully, but not 
 with bitter cries or despairing lamentations, for they knew 
 that they should one day meet again ; and once more they 
 mixed with the busy world, and their content and cheerful- 
 ness were restored. The cloud settled upon the picture, and 
 concealed it from the sexton's view. 
 
 " What do you think of that ?" said the goblin, turning 
 his large face toward Gabriel Grub. 
 
 Gabriel murmured out something about its being very 
 pretty, and looked somewhat ashamed as the goblin bent 
 his fiery eyes upon him. 
 
 " You a miserable man !" said the goblin, in a tone of ex- 
 cessive contempt. " You /" He appeared disposed to add 
 more, but indignation choked his utterance ; so he lifted up 
 one of his very pliable legs, and, flourishing it above his 
 head a little, to insure his aim, administered a good sound 
 kick to Gabriel Grub; immediately after which, all the 
 goblins-in-waiting crowded round the wretched sexton, and 
 kicked him without mercy, according to the # established and 
 invariable custom of courtiers upon earth, who kick whom 
 royalty kicks, and hug whom royalty hugs. 
 
 " Show him some more," said the king of the goblins. 
 
 At these words the cloud was again dispelled, and a rich 
 and beautiful landscape was disclosed to view. The sun 
 shone from out the clear blue sky, the water sparkled be- 
 neath his rays, and the trees looked greener, and the flowers 
 more gay, beneath his cheerful influence. The water rippled 
 on with a pleasant sound, the trees rustled in the light wind 
 that murmured among their leaves, the birds sang upon the 
 boughs, and the lark caroled on high her welcome to the 
 morning. Yes, it was morning, the bright, balmy morning 
 
384 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 of summer; the minutest leaf, the smallest blade of grass, 
 was instinct with life. Man walked forth, elated with the 
 scene, and all was brightness and splendor. 
 
 " You a miserable man !" said the king of the goblins, in 
 a more contemptuous tone than before. And again the 
 king of the goblins gave his leg a flourish ; again it de- 
 scended on the shoulders of the sexton; and again the at- 
 tendant goblins imitated the example of their chief. 
 
 Many a time the cloud went and came, and many a les- 
 son it taught to Gabriel Grub, who, although his shoulders 
 smarted with pain from the frequent applications of the 
 goblins' feet thereunto, looked on with an interest which 
 nothing could diminish. He saw that men who worked 
 hard, and earned their scanty bread with lives of labor, were 
 cheerful and happy, and 'that to the most ignorant the 
 sweet face of nature was a never-failing source of cheerful- 
 ness and joy. Above all, he saw that men like himself, who 
 snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness of others, were the 
 foulest weeds on the fair surface of the earth; and, setting 
 all the good of the world against the evil, he came to the 
 conclusion that it was q, very decent and respectable sort of 
 a world after all. No sooner had he formed it than the 
 cloud which had closed over the last picture seemed to set- 
 tle on his senses, and lull him to repose. One by one the 
 goblins faded from his sight, and as the last one disappear- 
 ed he sank to sleep. 
 
 The day had .broken when Gabriel Grub awoke, and found 
 himself lying at full length on the flat grave-stone in the 
 church-yard, with the wicker bottle lying empty by his side, 
 and his coat, spade, and lantern, well whitened by the last 
 night's frost, scattered on the ground. The stone on which 
 he had first seen the goblin seated stood bolt upright before 
 him, and the grave at which he had worked the night be- 
 fore was not far off. At first he began to doubt the reality 
 of his adventures; but the acute pain in his shoulders, when 
 he attempted to rise, assured him that the kicking of the 
 goblins was certainly not ideal. He was staggered again 
 by observing no traces of footsteps in the snow on which 
 the goblins had played at leap-frog with the grave-stones; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 385 
 
 but he speedily accounted for this circumstance when he 
 remembered that, being spirits, they would leave no visible 
 impression behind them. So Gabriel Grujb got on his feet 
 as well as he could for the pain in his back, and, brushing 
 the frost off his coat, put it on, and turned his face toward 
 the town. 
 
 But he was an altered man, and he could not bear the 
 thought of returning to a place where his repentance would 
 be scoffed at, and his reformation disbelieved. He hesitated 
 for a few moments, and then turned away to wander where 
 he might, and seek his bread elsewhere. 
 
 The lantern, the spade, and the wicker bottle were found 
 that day in the church-yard. There were a great many 
 speculations about the sexton's fate at first, but it w r as 
 speedily determined that he had been carried away by the 
 goblins ; and there were not wanting some very credible 
 witnesses who had distinctly seen him whisked through the 
 air on the back of a chestnut horse blind of one eye, with 
 the hind quarters of a lion, and the tail of a bear. At length 
 all this was devoutly believed ; and the new sexton used to 
 exhibit to the curious, for a trifling emolument, a good-sized 
 piece of the church weathercock which had been accident- 
 ally kicked off by the aforesaid horse in his aerial flight, and 
 picked up by himself in the church-yard a year or two after- 
 ward. 
 
 Unfortunately, these stories were somewhat disturbed by 
 the unlooked-for reappearance of Gabriel Grub himself some 
 ten years afterward, a ragged, contented, rheumatic old 
 man. He told his story to the clergyman, and also to the 
 mayor, and in course of time it began to be received as a 
 matter of history, in which form it has continued down to 
 this very day. The believers in the weathercock tale, hav- 
 ing misplaced their confidence once, were not easily pre- 
 vailed upon to part with it again, so they looked as wise as 
 they could, shrugged their shoulders, touched their fore- 
 heads, and murmured something about Gabriel Grub's hav- 
 ing drunk all the Hollands, and then fallen asleep on the flat 
 tomb-stone ; and they affected to explain what he supposed 
 he had witnessed in the goblins' cavern by saying he had 
 
 Pw 
 
386 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 seen the world and grown wiser. But this opinion, which 
 was by no means a popular one at any time, gradually died 
 off; and, be the matter how it may, as Gabriel Grub was 
 afflicted with rheumatism to the end of his days, this story 
 has at least one moral, if it teach no better one — and that 
 is, that if a man turns sulky and drinks at Christmas time, 
 he may make up his mind to be not a bit the better for it, 
 let the spirits be ever so good, or let them be even as many 
 degrees beyond proof as those which Gabriel Grub saw in 
 the goblins' cavern. 
 
 PATRICK O'ROURKE AND THE FROGS.— A Cold-water Story. 
 
 George W. Bungay. 
 
 Saint Patrick did a vast deal of good in his day: he not 
 only drove the snakes out,of Ireland, but he also drove away 
 the frogs ; at least I judge so from the fact that Patrick 
 O'Rourke was unfamiliar with the voices of these noisy hy- 
 dropaths. Pat had been visiting at the house of a friend, 
 and he had, unfortunately, imbibed more whisky than ordi- 
 nary mortals can absorb with safety to their persons. On 
 his home return the road was too narrow, and he performed 
 wonderful feats in his endeavors to maintain the centre of 
 gravity. Now he seemed to exert his best efforts to walk 
 on both sides of the road at the same time ; then he would 
 fall, and feel upward for the ground ; then he would slowly 
 pick himself up, and the ground would rise and hit him 
 square in the face. By the time he reached the meadow- 
 lands, located about half way between his home and the 
 shanty of his friend, he was somewhat sobered by the ups 
 and downs he had experienced on the way. 
 
 Hearing strange voices, he stopped suddenly to ascertain, 
 if possible, the purport of their language. Judge his aston- 
 ishment when he heard his own name distinctly called — 
 "Patrick O'Rourke— Patrick O'Rourke." 
 
 " Faith, that's my name, sure." 
 
 " Patrick O'Rourke — Patrick — O'Rourke — Rourke — 
 Rourke." 
 
 " What do ye want o' the likes o' me ?" he inquired. 
 
 "When did ye come over — come over — come — over?" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 387 
 
 " It is jist tree months ago to the minute ; and a bad 
 time we had, sure, for we were all say-sick, and the passage 
 lasted six long wakes." 
 
 " What will ye do— -do— do ? What will ye do— do— do?" 
 
 " I have nothing to do at all at all, but then I can do any 
 thing ; I can dig, I can tind mason, and I can hould office if 
 I can git it." 
 
 " You are drunk — you are drunk — drunk — drunk — drunk 
 — drunk." 
 
 " By my sowl, that's a lie." 
 
 "You are drunk — dead drunk — drunk — drunk." 
 
 " Repate that same, if ye dare, and I will take me shillaly 
 to ye." 
 
 "You are drunk — dead drunk — drunk — drunk." 
 
 "Jist come out here, now, and stip on the tail o' me coat, 
 like a man," exclaimed Pat, in high dudgeon, pulling oft* hia 
 coat and trailing it upon the ground. 
 
 " Strike him — strike him — strike — strike — strike." 
 
 " Come on wid ye ! I'm a broth of a boy ; come on." 
 
 " Knock him down — down — down." 
 
 "I will take any one in the crowd; and, if Mike Mulligan 
 was here, we wud take all of yees at onct." 
 
 "Kill him— kill him— kill him." 
 
 " Och, murther ! sure ye wud not be after murtherin' me ; 
 I was not oncivil to ye. Go back to Pate Dogan's wid me 
 now, and I will trate ivery one o' yees." 
 
 " We don't drink rum — rum — rum." 
 
 "And are ye all Father Mathew men?" 
 
 " We are all cold-water men — water men." 
 
 " Take me advice, now, and put a little whasky in the wa- 
 ther, darlings ; it will kape the cowld out whin yees git wet, 
 and so it will." 
 
 "Moderation — moderation — moderation." 
 
 " Yis, that's the talk. But ye are a set o' fut-pads and 
 highwaymen, hidin' behind the rocks and the traas. Whin 
 I onct git to Watertown I will sind Father Fairbanks after 
 ye, and he will chuck ye into the pond, as he did that thafe 
 who stole the public money, and he will howld ye there un- 
 til ye confess, or he will take yees to the perleese." 
 
388 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 "Come on, boys — chase him — chase him." 
 
 "Faith and I won't run, but I will jist walk right along; 
 for if any o' me frinds should find me here in sich company, 
 at this hour o' the night, they wud think I was thryin' for 
 to stale somethin'. Take me advice, boys, and go home, for 
 it's goin' for to rain, and ye will git wet to the skin if ye 
 kape sich late hours." 
 
 " Catch him — catch him — catch him." 
 
 " Sure ye'd betther not, for I haven't got a cint wid me, 
 or I'd lave it in yer jackets. What's the use o' stalin' all a 
 man has whin he has jist nothin' at all at all. Bad luck to 
 ye for botherin' me so." 
 
 About this time the frog-concert was in full tune, and the 
 hoarse chorus so alarmed Pat that he took to his heels, for 
 he was now sober enough to run. 
 
 A CAMP-MEETING IN TEXAS. 
 In September, 1836, the following notice might have been 
 seen upon the doors of every public house and grocery, at- 
 tached to the largest trees near the cross-roads and princi- 
 pal trails, and even in the remote dells of the mountains of 
 Texas, miles away from a human habitation : 
 
 "Barbecue Camp-meeting. 
 
 "There will be a camp -meeting, to commence the last 
 Monday of this month, at the Double-spring Grove, near Pe- 
 ter Brinton's, in the county of Shelby. 
 
 " The exercises will open with a splendid barbecue. 
 
 u The preparations are being made to suit all tastes : 
 there will be a good barbecue, better liquor, and the best 
 of Gospel. (Signed) Paul Denton, Missionary, M. E. C." 
 
 The day came, and, as he had anticipated, the meat and 
 drink brought a crowd — a motley crowd of hunters and 
 herdsmen, gamblers and refugees, forgers, thieves, robbers, 
 and murderers — the very ears he wished to reach. A so- 
 cial pandemonium, unprincipled, without courts, or prisons, 
 or churches, or school-houses, or even the shadow of civil 
 authority or subordination. 
 
 Hence all prudent evangelists soon learned to shun the 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 389 
 
 left bank of the Sabine as if it had been infested by a cohort 
 of demons. 
 
 The tumult was deafening — a tornado of babbling tongues 
 talking, shouting, quarreling, betting, and cursing for amuse- 
 ment. Suddenly a cry arose: "Colonel Watt Foeman — 
 hurrah for Colonel Watt Foeman /" and the crowd parted 
 right aud left to let the lion lyncher pass. The loadstar 
 advanced with a satanic countenance, ferocious — murderous. 
 He was a tall, athletic, powerful man ; his train, a dozen arm- 
 ed desperadoes. He ordered the dinner served, and it was 
 spread before him. When prepared to commence the sump- 
 tuous repast, a voice pealed from the pulpit loud as the blast 
 of a trumpet in battle, "Stay, gentlemen and ladies, till the 
 giver of the barbecue as7cs God's blessing /" 
 
 Every ear started, every eye was directed to the speaker, 
 and a whisperless silence ensued, for all alike were struck by 
 his remarkable appearance. He was a giant in stature, 
 though scarcely twenty years of age ; his hair, dark as the 
 raveVs wing, flowed down his immense shoulders in masses 
 of natural ringlets more beautiful than any ever wreathed 
 around the jeweled brow of a queen by the labored achieve- 
 ments of human art ; his eyes, black as midnight, beamed 
 like stars over a face as pale as Parian marble — calm, pas- 
 sionless, spiritual. The heterogeneous mass gazed in mute 
 astonishment. The missionary prayed, but it sounded like no 
 other prayer ever addressed to the throne of the Almighty. 
 It contained no encomiums on the splendors of the divine 
 attributes — no petitions in the tones of command — no ori- 
 sons for distant places, times, or objects ; it related exclu- 
 sively to the present people and the present hour : it was 
 the cry of the naked soul, and that soul a beggar for the 
 bread and water of eternal life. "JVbw, my friends," he said, 
 " partake of God's gifts at the table, and then come and sit 
 down, and listen to his Gospel." 
 
 One heart, however humbled the rest, was maddened by 
 the preacher's wonderful powers. Colonel Watt. Foeman 
 exclaimed, in a sneering voice, " Mr. Paul Denton, your rev- 
 erence has lied. You promised us not only a good barbe- 
 cue, but better liquor ; where is your liquor ?" 
 
390 MANUAL OP READING. 
 
 "There !" answered the missionary, in tones of thunder, 
 and pointing his motionless finger at the double spring 
 gushing up in two strong columns, with a sound like a 
 shout of joy, from the bosom of the earth. "There!" he 
 repeated, with a look terrible as lightning, while his enemy 
 actually trembled at his feet; "there is the liquor which 
 God, the Eternal, brews for all his children ! Not in the 
 simmering still, over smoking fires, choked with poisonous 
 gases, and surrounded with the stench of sickening odors 
 and rank corruption, doth your Father in heaven prepare 
 the precious essence of life, pure cold water. But in the 
 green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders 
 and the child loves to play, there God himself brews it ; 
 and down, low down in the deepest valleys, where the foun- 
 tains murmur and the rills sing — and high upon the moun- 
 tain-tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold in the 
 sun, where the storm-cloud broods and the thunder-storms 
 crash — and away, far away out on the wide, wide sea, where 
 the hurricane howls music, and big waves roar the chorus, 
 * sweeping the march of God' — there he brews it, that bever- 
 age of life, 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 trees seem turned to living jewels, spreading a 
 golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around 
 the midnight moon ; sporting in the cataract, sleeping in the 
 glacier, dancing in the hail-shower, folding bright snow-cur- 
 tains softly above the wintry world, and weaving the many- 
 colored iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose warp is the 
 rain of earth, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all 
 checkered over with celestial flowers by the mystic hand of 
 rarefaction — still always it is beautiful, that blessed cold wa- 
 ter ! 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 not burning tears in its 
 clear depths — no drunkard's shrieking ghost from the grave 
 curses it in words of despair ! Speak out, my friends ; would 
 you exchange it for the demon's drink — alcohol ?" 
 
 A shout like the roar of the tempest answered " No ! no !" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 391 
 
 AN IRISH LETTER. 
 Tullymucclescrag, Parish of Ballyraggett, near > 
 Ballyslughgathey, Sunday (God bless us), 1864.^ 
 
 My dear Nephew, — I haven't sent ye a letther since the 
 last time I wrote to ye, bekase we have moved from our 
 former place of livin', and I didn't know where a letther 
 would find ye ; but I now with pleasure take up me pin to 
 inform ye of the death of yer own livin' uncle, Ned Fitzpat- 
 rick, who died very suddenly last week afther a lingerin' 
 illness of six months. The poor fellow was in violent con- 
 vulsions the whole time of his sickness, lyin' perfectly quiet, 
 speechless, all the while talkin' incoherently, and cryin' for 
 wather. I had no opportunity of informin' ye of his death 
 sooner, except I wrote to ye by the last post, which same 
 went off two days before he died ; and then ye would have 
 postage to pay. I'm at a loss to tell what his death was 
 occasioned by, but I fear it was by his last sickness, for he 
 was' niver well ten days togither durin' the whole of his 
 confinement, and I believe his death was brought about by 
 his aitin' too much of rabbit stuffed with pais and gravy, or 
 pais and gravy stuffed with rabbit ; but, be that as it may, 
 when he brathed his last, the docther gave up all hope of 
 liis recovery. I needn't tell ye any thing about his age, for 
 ye well know that in March next he would have been just 
 seventy-five years old lackin' ten months, and, had he lived 
 till that time, would have been just six months dead. His 
 property now devolves to his next of kin, which all died 
 some time ago, so that I expect it will be divided between 
 us ; and ye know his property, which was very large, was 
 sold to pay his debts, and the remainder he lost at a horse- 
 race; but it was the opinion of ivery body at the time that 
 he would have won the race if the baste he run aginst hadn't 
 been too fast for him. 
 
 I niver saw a man in all my life, and the docthers all said 
 so, that observed directions or took medicine betther than 
 he did. He said he would as leve dhrink bitter as sweet if 
 it had only the same taste, and ipecakana as whisky-punch 
 if it would only put him in the same humor for fightin'. 
 
392 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 But, poor sowl ! he will niver ate or dhrink any more, and 
 ye haven't a livin' relation in the world except meself and 
 yer two cousins who were kilt in the last war. I can not 
 dwell on the mournful subject any longer, and shall sale me 
 letther with black salin'-wax, and put in it yer uncle's coat- 
 of-arms. So I beg ye not to brake the sale when ye open 
 the letther, and don't open it until two or three days afther 
 ye resave this, and by that time ye will be well prepared 
 for the sorrowful tidings. Yer old sweetheart sinds her 
 love unknownst to ye. When Jary McGhee arrives in 
 America, ax him for this letther, and if he don't brung it 
 from amongst the rest, tell him it's the one that spakes 
 about yer uncle's death, and saled in black. 
 
 I remain yer affectionate ould grandmother, 
 
 Bridget O'Hoolegoin. 
 
 P.S. — Don't write till ye resave this. 
 
 N.B. — When yez come to this place, stop, and don't rade 
 any more until my next. 
 
 Direct to Larry O'Hoolegoin, late of the Town of Tully- 
 mucclescrag, Parish of Ballyraggett, near Ballyslughgathey, 
 County of Kilkenny, Ireland. 
 
 SCENE FROM RICHARD III.* 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 King Richard, starting out of his dream, 
 
 (h.) (ff.) Rich. Give me another horse — bind up my wounds — 
 
 Have mercy, Jesu ! (p.) Soft; I did but dream. 
 (tr.) Oh coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 
 The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. 
 
 Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 
 What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by : 
 
 Richard loves Richard; that is, Jam I. 
 
 Is there a murderer here ? No — yes ; I am. 
 
 Then fly. What, from myself ? Great reason ! Why? 
 
 Lest I revenge. What f Myself on myself? 
 
 * Richard III. was born in 1452. By successive murders he reached the 
 throne. In this extract he appears just after waking from a fearful dream, 
 wherein the ghosts of his victims appear to him. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 393 
 
 I love myself. Wherefore? For any good 
 
 That I myself have done unto myself? 
 
 Oh no ; alas ! I rather hate myself 
 
 For hateful deeds committed by myself. 
 
 I am a villain ; yet I lie — I am not. 
 
 Fool, of thyself speak well — fool, do not flatter. 
 
 My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 (<) And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 (<) And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
 (ff\) Perjury, perjury in the high'st degree, 
 
 Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree, 
 
 All several sins, all used in each degree, 
 
 Throng to the bar, crying all, (h.) (ff.) Guilty ! guilty ! 
 (1.) I shall despair. There is no creature loves me ; 
 
 And, if I die, no soul will pity me : 
 
 Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself 
 
 Find in myself no pity to myself. 
 
 Methought the souls of all that I had murdered 
 
 Came to my tent ; and every one did threat 
 
 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard, 
 
 SCENE FROM THE SIEGE OF VALENCIA. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 £Alvar Gonzalez is the Governor of Valencia; Elmina, his wife. Their 
 two sons, Alphonso and Carlos, are held by Abdallah, the chief of 
 the besieging army, as hostages of war, the price of whose ransom is 
 treason — the yielding of the city of Valencia. Gonzalez enters, having 
 on his trappings of war. Elmina addresses him as he enters.] 
 
 Elmina. My noble lord, 
 
 Welcome from this day's toil ! It is the hour 
 Whose shadows, as they deepen, bring repose 
 Unto all weary men ; and wilt not thou 
 Free thy mailed bosom from the corslet's weight, 
 To rest at fall of eve ? 
 
 Gonzalez. There may be rest 
 
 For the tired peasant, when the vesper bell 
 Doth send him to his cabin, there to sit 
 Watching his children's sports ; but unto me, 
 Who speaks of rest ? 
 
 R2 
 
394 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Elm. Oh why is this ? How my heart sinks. 
 
 Gonz. It must not fail thee yet, 
 Daughter of heroes ! Thine inheritance 
 Is strength to meet all conflicts. Thou canst number 
 In thy long line of glorious ancestry 
 Those whom the earth call martyrs ; 
 
 While heaven but claimed their blood, their lives, and not 
 The things which grew as tendrils round their hearts — 
 No, not their children I 
 
 Elm. Mean'st thou? Know'st thou aught? 
 I can not utter it — my sons ! my sons ! 
 Is it of them ? Oh, would'st thou speak of them ? 
 
 Gonz. A mother's heart divineth but too well. 
 
 Elm. Speak, I conjure thee ! I can bear it all. 
 Where are my children ? 
 
 Gonz. In the Moorish camp ! 
 
 Elm. Say they live ! 
 
 Gonz. They live, but there is asked a ransom far too high. 
 
 Elm. What ! have we wealth 
 Which might redeem a monarch, and our sons 
 The while wear fetters ? Take thou all for them. 
 Thou knowest not how serenely I could take 
 The peasants lot upon me, so my heart 
 Amidst its deep affections undisturbed 
 May dwell in silence. 
 
 Gonz. Canst thou bear disgrace f 
 
 Elm. We were not born for this. 
 
 Gonz. No, thou say'st w r ell. 
 Hold to that lofty faith. But he for whom 
 Freedom and life may but be won with shame, 
 Hath naught to do save fearlessly to fix 
 His steadfast look on the majestic heavens, 
 And proudly die. 
 
 Elm. Gonzalez, who must die ? 
 
 Gonz. They on whose lives a fearful price is set, 
 But to be paid by treason. 
 Our sons must die unless I yield the city. 
 
 Elm. Is there no hope ? Tell me there is some hope. 
 
 Gonz. Hope but in Him 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 395 
 
 Who bade the patriarch lay his fair young son 
 Bound on the shrine of sacrifice, and when 
 The bright steel quivered in the father's hand, 
 Just raised to strike, sent forth His awful voice 
 Commanding to withhold ! Earth has no hope ; 
 It rests with Him. 
 
 Elm, Thou canst not tell me this — 
 
 Thou, father of my sons, within whose hands 
 Doth lie my children's fate ! 
 
 Gonz. Hast thou cause, 
 
 Wife of my youth, to deem it lies within 
 The bounds of possible things, that I should link 
 My name with that word — traitor f They that sleep 
 On their proud battle-fields, thy sires and mine, 
 Died not for this. m 
 
 Elm, Then their doom is sealed. 
 
 Thou wilt not save thy children ? 
 
 Gonz, Think'st thou /feel no pangs ? 
 He that hath given me sons doth know the heart 
 Whose treasure he recalls. Of this no more ; 
 'Tis vain I tell thee that the inviolate Cross 
 Still from our ancient temples must look up 
 Through the blue heavens of Spain, though at its foot 
 I perish, with my race. 
 
 Elm. Scorn me not 
 
 In mine extreme of misery. Thou art strong ; 
 Thy heart is not as mine. My brain grows wild — 
 I know not what I ask. And yet 'twere but 
 Anticipating fate, since it must fall — 
 That Cross must fall. There is no power, 
 No hope within this city of the grave, 
 To keep its place on high. 
 
 Gonz, We have but to bow the head in silence 
 When heaven's voice calls back things we love. 
 
 Elm, Love ! love ! there is none 
 In all this cold and hollow world — no fount 
 Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within 
 The mother's heart. It is but pride wherewith 
 To his fair son the father's eye doth turn, 
 
396 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Watching his growth. Ay, on the boy he looks, 
 The bright, glad creature springing in his path, 
 But as the heir of his great name, the young 
 And stately tree whose rising strength ere long 
 Shall bear his trophies well. And this is love ! 
 This is maris love ! What marvel ? You ne'er made 
   Your breast the pillow of his infancy ; 
 You ne'er kept watch 
 Beside him till the last pale star had set, 
 And morn all dazzling, as in triumph, broke 
 On your dim, weary eye. Not yours the face 
 Which, early faded through fond care for him, 
 Hung o'er his sleep, and, duly as heaven's light, 
 Was there to greet his wakening. You ne'er smoothed 
 His couch, ne'er sang him to his rosy rest, 
 Caught his least whisper, when his voice from yours 
 Had learned soft utterance, pressed your lip to hia 
 When fever parched it, hushed his wayward crk.8 
 With patient, vigilant, never-wearied love ! 
 No ; these are woman's tasks. In these her youth, 
 And bloom of cheek, and buoyancy of heart 
 Steal from her all unmarked. My boys ! my boys ! 
 Hath vain affection borne with all for this ? 
 
 Gonz. Is there strength in man 
 
 Thus to endure ? That thou couldst read, through all 
 Its depth of silent agony, the heart 
 Thy voice of woe doth rend ! 
 
 Elm. Thy heart ! thy heart ! Away ! it feels not now / 
 But an hour comes to tame the mighty man 
 Unto the infant's weakness ; nor shall Heaven 
 Spare you that bitter chastening. May you live 
 To be alone when loneliness doth seem 
 Most heavy to sustain ! For me, my voice 
 Of prayer and fruitless weeping shall be soon 
 With all forgotten sounds ; my quiet place 
 Low with my lovely ones ; and we shall sleep— * 
 Though kings lead armies o'er us, we shall sleep, 
 Wrapped in earth's covering mantle. You the while 
 Shall sit within your vast forsaken halls, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 397 
 
 And hear the wild and melancholy winds 
 
 Moan through their drooping banners, nevermore 
 
 To wave above your race. Ay, then call up 
 
 Shadows, dim phantoms from ancestral tombs, 
 
 To people that cold void. And when the strength 
 
 From your right arm hath melted, when the blast 
 
 Of the shrill clarion gives your heart no more 
 
 A fiery wakening, if at last you pine 
 
 For the glad voices and the bounding steps 
 
 Once through your home re-echoing, and the clasp 
 
 Of twining arms, and all the joyous light 
 
 Of eyes that laughed with youth, and made your board 
 
 A place of sunshine — when those days are "come, 
 
 Then, in your utter desolation, turn 
 
 To the cold world — the smiling, faithless world, 
 
 Which hath swept past you long — and bid it quenca 
 
 Your soul's deep thirst with fame — immortal fame. 
 
 Fame to the sick of heart ! A gorgeous robe — 
 
 A crown of victory unto him that dies 
 
 I' the burning waste for water ! 
 
 Gonz. This from thee ! 
 Now the last drop of bitterness is poured. 
 Elmina, I forgive thee. 
 
 Aid me, Heaven, 
 From whom alone is power. Oh, thou hast set 
 Duties so stern of aspect in my path 
 They almost to my startled gaze assume 
 The hue of things less hallowed. Men have sunk 
 Unblamed beneath such trials. Doth not He 
 Who made us know the limits of our strength ? 
 My wife ! my sons ! Away ! I must not pause 
 To give my heart one moment's mastery thus ! 
 
 SCENE FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of 
 this great world. 
 
 JVerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries 
 
398 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are ; and 
 yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 
 much as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean hap- 
 piness, therefore, to be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes 
 sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. 
 
 Por. Good sentences and well pronounced. 
 
 JVer. They would be better if well followed. 
 
 Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to 
 do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages 
 princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
 instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to 
 be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teach- 
 ing. The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot 
 temper leaps over a cpld decree ; such a hare is madness, the 
 youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. 
 But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a hus- 
 band. Oh me ! the word choose ! I may neither choose 
 whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of 
 a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it 
 not hard, Nerissa, that I can not choose one, nor refuse none? 
 
 JVer. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at 
 their death have good inspirations; therefore the lottery 
 that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, 
 and lead (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you), 
 will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one 
 whom you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in 
 your affection toward any of these princely suitors that are 
 already come ? 
 
 Por. I pray thee overname them ; and, as thou namest 
 them, I will describe them ; and, according to my descrip- 
 tion, level at my affection. 
 
 JVer. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but 
 talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to 
 his own good parts that he can shoe him himself. 
 
 JVer. Then there is the County Palatine. 
 
 Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, 
 "And you will not have me choose;" he hears merry tales 
 and smiles not ; I fear he will prove the weeping philoso- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 399 
 
 pher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sad- 
 ness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's- 
 head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God 
 defend me from these two ! 
 
 JVer. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ? 
 
 Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. 
 In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker ; but he ! why, he 
 hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's ; a better bad hab- 
 it of frowning than the Count Palatine. He is every man 
 in no man ; if a throstle sing he falls straight a capering ; he 
 will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him I 
 should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I 
 would forgive him ; for if he love me to madness, I should 
 never requite him. 
 
 JVer. What say you, then, to Faulconbridge, the young 
 baron of England ? 
 
 Por. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands 
 not me, nor I him ; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Ital- 
 ian ; and you w T ill come into the court and swear that I have 
 a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's 
 picture ; but, alas ! who can converse with a dumb show ? 
 How oddly he is suited ; I think he bought his doublet in 
 Italy, his round-hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and 
 his behavior every where. 
 
 JVer. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbor ? 
 
 Por. That he hath neighborly charity in him, for he bor- 
 rowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he 
 would pay him again when he was able. I think the French- 
 man became his surety, and sealed under for another. 
 
 JVer. How like you the young German, the Duke of Sax- 
 ony's nephew. 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and 
 most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk ; when he is 
 best, he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, 
 he is little better than a beast ; and the w T orst fall that ever 
 fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 JVer. If he should make offer to choose, and choose the 
 right casket, you would refuse to perform your father's will 
 if you should refuse to accept him. 
 
400 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a 
 deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket ; for, if 
 the devil be within, and that temptation without,Iknow he 
 will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be 
 married to a sponge. 
 
 JVer. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
 lords ; they have acquainted me with their determinations, 
 which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you 
 with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other 
 sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets. 
 
 Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste 
 as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's 
 will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for 
 there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, 
 and I pray God grant them a fair departure. 
 
 JSTer. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a 
 Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in com- 
 pany of the Marquis of Montferrat ? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes; it was Bassanio; as I think, so he was 
 called. 
 
 JVer. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my fool- 
 ish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy 
 of thy praise. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take 
 their leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the 
 Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince, his master, 
 will be here to-night. 
 
 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart 
 as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his 
 , approach ; if he have the condition of a saint, and the com- 
 plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
 wive me. 
 
 Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
 
 While we shut the door upon one wooer, another knocks 
 at the door. • [Exeunt. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 401 
 
 SCENE FROM THE RIVALS. 
 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan.* 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 Miter Sir Anthony. 
 
 Sir, I am delighted to see you here, and looking so well ; 
 your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your 
 health. 
 
 Sir Anthony. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What ! 
 you are recruiting here, hey ? 
 
 Capt. Absolute. Yes, sir, I am on duty. 
 
 Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not 
 expect it ; for I was going to write to you on a little matter 
 of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old 
 and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. 
 
 Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more 
 strong and hearty, and I pray fervently that you may con- 
 tinue so. 
 
 Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my 
 heart. Well, then, Jack, I have been considering that I am 
 so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long 
 time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your 
 commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a 
 small pittance for a lad of your spirit. 
 
 Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. 
 
 Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my 
 boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, there- 
 fore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. 
 
 Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Yet, sir, I 
 presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? 
 
 Sir A. Oh ! that shall be as your wife chooses. 
 
 Capt. A. My wife, sir ! 
 
 Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you — settle that be- 
 tween you. 
 
 * The scene of the comedy is laid in Bath. Sir Anthony is a high-spirit- 
 ed, kind-hearted old gentleman, and Captain Absolute is his nephew, whom 
 he pets and scolds. The lady that Sir Anthony proposes for his nephew is 
 really the lady that the captain loves, but he, in ignorance of that fact, re 
 jects the proposition with determination. 
 
402 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Capt A. A wife, sir, did you say? 
 
 Sir A. Ay, a wife — why, did not I mention her before ? 
 
 Capt. A. Not a word of her, sir. 
 
 Sir A. Odds so ! I mustn't forget her, though. Yes, Jack, 
 the independence I was talking of is by a marriage — the 
 fortune is saddled with a wife ; but I suppose that makes no 
 difference. 
 
 Capt A. Sir ! sir ! you amaze me ! 
 
 Sir A. Why, what the deuce is the matter with the fool? 
 Just now you w^ere all gratitude and duty. 
 
 Capt A. I was, sir; you talked to me of independence 
 and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. 
 
 Sir A. Why — what difference does that make? Odds 
 life, sir, if you have the estate, you must take it with the 
 live-stock on it, as it stands. 
 
 Capt A. Pray, sir, who is the lady ? 
 
 Sir A. What's that to you, sir ? Come, give me your 
 promise to love and marry her directly. 
 
 Capt. A. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon 
 my affections for a lady I know nothing of. 
 
 Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to ob- 
 ject to a lady you know nothing of. 
 
 Cap>t A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for 
 all, that in this point I can not obey you. 
 
 Sir A. Hark ye, Jack ! I have heard you for some time 
 with patience ; I have been cool — quite cool ; but take care ; 
 you know I am compliance itself— when I am not thwarted ; 
 no one more easily led — when I have my own way; but 
 don't put me in a frenzy. 
 
 Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it ; in this I can not obey you. 
 
 Sir A. Now, hang me if ever I call you Jack again w T hile 
 I live ! 
 
 Capt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. 
 
 Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a w T ord — not one 
 word ; so give me your promise by a nod. And I'll tell you 
 what, Jack — I mean you dog — if you don't, by — 
 
 Capt A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass 
 of ugliness ? 
 
 Sir A. Zounds ! sirrah, the lady shall be as ugly as I 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 403 
 
 choose : she shall have a hump on each shoulder ; she shall 
 be as crooked as the Crescent ; she shall have a skin like a 
 mummy, and the beard of a Jew — she shall be all this, sir- 
 rah ! yet I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night 
 to write sonnets on her beauty. 
 
 Capt. A. This is reason and moderation indeed ! 
 
 Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy ! no grinning, jack- 
 anapes ! 
 
 Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a w T orse humor for 
 mirth in my life. 
 
 Sir A. 'Tis false, sir ; I know you are laughing in your 
 sleeve ; I know you'll grin when I am gone, sirrah ! 
 
 Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 
 
 Sir A. None of your passion, sir — none of your violence, 
 if you please. It won't do with me, I promise you. 
 
 Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. 
 
 Sir A. 'Tis a confounded lie ! I know you are in a pas- 
 sion in your heart ; I know you are, you hypocritical young 
 dog ; but it won't do. 
 
 Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word — 
 
 Sir A. So, you will fly out ! Can't you be cool, like 
 me ? What good can passion do ? Passion is of no serv- 
 ice, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There, 
 you sneer again ! Don't provoke me ! But you rely upon 
 the mildness of my temper — you do, you dog ! you play 
 upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet take care ; the 
 patience of a saint may be overcome at last. But, mark ! I 
 give you six hours and a half to consider of this : if you 
 then agree, without any condition, to do every thing on 
 earth that I choose, why — confound you, I may in time foi; 
 give you ; if not, zounds ! don't enter the same hemisphere 
 with me ; don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the 
 same light with me, but get an atmosphere and a sun of 
 your own. I'll strip you of your commission ; I'll lodge a 
 five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and you shall 
 live on the interest. I'll disown you, I'll disinherit you, and 
 hang me if ever I call you Jack again. [Exit. 
 
 Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father, I kiss your hands. 
 
404 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 QUARREL SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 
 
 Shakspeake. 
 
 Cassius. That you have wronged me doth appear in this ; 
 You have condemned and noted Lucius Pell a 
 For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
 Wherein my letters, praying on his side, 
 Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 
 
 Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. 
 
 Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
 That every nice offense should bear his comment. 
 
 Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condemned to have an itching palm ; 
 To sell and mart your offices for gold 
 To undeservers. ' 
 
 Cas. I an itching palm? 
 
 You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
 And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 
 
 Cas. Chastisement ! 
 
 Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember. 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
 What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
 And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world 
 But for supporting robbers — shall we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, bay not me ; 
 
 I'll not endure it : you forget yourself 
 To hedge me in ; I am a soldier — I, 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 
 Bru. Go to ; you're not, Cassius. 
 
 Cas. I am. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 405 
 
 Bru. I say you are not. 
 
 Cas. Urge me no more ; I shall forget myself; 
 Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no further. 
 
 Bru. Away, slight man ! 
 
 Cas. Is't possible ? 
 
 Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
 Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? 
 
 Cas. Oh ye gods ! ye gods ! must I endure all this ? 
 
 Bru. All this ? ay, more : Fret till your proud heart 
 breaks ; 
 Go show your slaves how choleric you are, 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? 
 Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
 Under your testy humor ? By the gods, 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
 I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
 When you are waspish. 
 
 Cas. Is it come to this ? 
 
 Bru. You say you are a better soldier : 
 Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
 And it shall please me well : for mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus ; 
 I said an elder soldier, not a better: 
 Did I say better ? 
 
 Bru. If you did, I care not. 
 
 Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved 
 me. 
 
 Bru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have tempted him. 
 
 Cas. I durst not ? 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What ? durst not tempt him ? 
 
 Bru. For your life you durst not. 
 
 Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
 I may do that I shall be sorry for. 
 
 Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
 
406 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me— 
 
 For I can raise no money by vile means: 
 
 By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions, 
 
 Which you denied me : was that done like Cassius ? 
 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 
 Be ready, gods, with' all your thunderbolts — 
 
 Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 Cas. I denied you not. 
 
 JBru. You did. 
 
 Cas. I did not : he was but a fool 
 
 That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my 
 
 heart ; 
 A friend should bear his friend's infirmities ; 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
 
 JBru. I do not, till you practice them on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru. I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
 As huge as high Olympus. 
 
 Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 
 Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius ; 
 For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
 Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother; 
 Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
 Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote, 
 To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep 
 My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, 
 And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 407 
 
 If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
 
 I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
 
 Strike, as thou didst at Caesar ; for I know, 
 
 When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better 
 
 Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 
 
 Bru. Sheathe your dagger : 
 
 Be angry when you w T ill, it shall have scope ; 
 Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
 Oh Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
 That carries anger as the flint bears fire ; 
 Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
 And straight is cold again ! 
 
 Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief, and blood ill-tempered vexeth him ? 
 
 Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. 
 
 Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. 
 
 Bru. And my heart too. 
 
 Cas. Oh Brutus ! 
 
 Bru. What's the matter? 
 
 Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me 
 When that rash humor, which my mother gave me, 
 Makes me forgetful ? 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and, henceforth, 
 
 When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 FROM " SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL." 
 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 
 ACT I. Scene 2. Sir Peter's House. 
 
 Miter Sir Peter. 
 Sir P. When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what 
 is he to expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle 
 made me the happiest of men, and I have been the most 
 miserable dog ever since ! We tiffed a little going to 
 church, and came to a quarrel before the bells had done 
 ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall 
 during the honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life be- 
 
408 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 fore my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose 
 with caution — a girl bred wholly in the country, who never 
 knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above 
 the annual gala of a race-ball. Yet now she plays her part 
 in all the extravagant fopperies of the fashion and the town 
 with as ready a grace as if she had never seen a bush or a 
 grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square ! I am sneered at by 
 all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the newspapers. 
 She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humors ; 
 yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never 
 bear all this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it. 
 
 Enter Lady Teazle. 
 
 Sir P. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it. 
 
 Lady 1\ Sir Peter,' Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as 
 you please ; but I ought to have my own way in every 
 thing, and, what's more, I will too. What ! though I was 
 educated in the country, I know very well that women of 
 fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are 
 married. 
 
 Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well ; so a husband is to 
 have no influence — no authority? 
 
 Lady T. Authority ! No, to be sure. If you wanted au- 
 thority over me you should have adopted me, and not mar- 
 ried me : I am sure you were old enough. 
 
 Sir P. Old enough ! ay — there it is. Well, well, Lady 
 Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your tem- 
 per, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance. 
 
 Lady T. My extravagance ! I am sure I am not more 
 extravagant than a woman oustfit to be. 
 
 Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more 
 sums upon such unmeaning luxury. 'Slife ! to spend as 
 much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter 
 as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a green-house, 
 and give &fete champetre at Christmas. 
 
 Lady T. Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear 
 in cold weather ? You should find fault w T ith the climate, and 
 not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it were spring 
 all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 409 
 
 Sir P. Zounds ! madam, if you had been born to this, I 
 should not wonder at your talking thus; but you forget 
 what your situation was when I married you. 
 
 Lady T. No, no, I don't ; 'twas a very disagreeable one, 
 or I should never have married you. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, yes, madam ; you were then in a somewhat 
 humbler style — the daughter of a plain country squire. 
 Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your 
 tambour, in a pretty-figured linen gown, with a bunch of 
 keys at your side — your hair combed smooth over a roll, 
 and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted of 
 your own working. 
 
 Lady T. Oh yes, I remember it very well ; and a curious 
 life I led. My daily occupation, to inspect the dairy, super- 
 intend the poultry, make extracts from the family recipe- 
 book, and comb my Aunt Deborah's lap-dog. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed. 
 
 Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amusements— 
 to draw patterns for ruffles which I had not materials to 
 make up, to play Pope Joan with the curate, to read a novel 
 to my aunt, or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum 
 my father to sleep after a fox-chase. 
 
 Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, 
 madam, these were the recreations I took you from ; but 
 now you must have your coach — vi$-d~vis — and three pow- 
 dered footmen before your chair, and, in the summer, a pair 
 of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No rec- 
 ollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, 
 behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse ! 
 
 Lady T. No, I swear I never did that ; I deny the butler 
 and the coach-horse. 
 
 Sir P. This, madam, was your situation, and what have I 
 done for you ? I have made you a woman of fashion, of 
 fortune, of rank ; in short, I have made you my wife. 
 
 Lady 71 Well, then — and there is but one thing more you 
 can make me add to the obligation, and that is — " 
 
 Sir P. My widow, I suppose ? 
 
 Lady T. Hem ! hem ! 
 
 Sir P. I thank you, madam ; but don't flatter yourself; 
 
 S 
 
410 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 for, though your ill-conduct may disturb my peace of mind, 
 it shall never break my heart, I promise you. However, I 
 am equally obliged to you for the hint. 
 
 Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make yourself 
 so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant 
 expense ? 
 
 Sir P. 'Slife ! madam, I say, had you any of these little 
 elegant expenses when you married me ? 
 
 Lady T. Lud ! Sir Peter, would you have me be out of 
 the fashion ? 
 
 Sir P. The fashion, indeed ! What had you to do with 
 the fashion before you married me ? 
 
 Lady T, For my part, I should think you would like to 
 have your wife thought a woman of taste. 
 
 Sir P. Ay — therd again — taste ! Zounds ! madam, you 
 had no taste when you married me ! 
 
 Lady T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter ; and, after 
 having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, 
 I allow. [Laitghs.] But now, Sir Peter, since we have fin- 
 ished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engage- 
 ment at Lady SneerwelPs. 
 
 Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance — a 
 charming set of acquaintance you have made there. 
 
 Lady T, Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and 
 fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation. 
 
 Sir P. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of reputation with 
 a vengeance, for they don't choose any body should have 
 a character but themselves. Such a crew ! Ah ! many a 
 wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than 
 these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clip- 
 pers of reputation. 
 
 Lady T. What ! would you restrain the freedom of speech ? 
 
 Sir P. Ah ! they have made you just as bad as any one 
 of the society. 
 
 Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable 
 grace. 
 
 Sir P. Grace, indeed ! 
 
 Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the people 1 
 abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 411 
 
 good humor, and I take it for granted they deal exactly in 
 the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you 
 promised to come to Lady SneerwelPs too. 
 
 Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my ow r n 
 character. 
 
 Lady T. Then, inaeed, you must make haste after me, or 
 you'll be too late. So good-by to ye. [Mcil. 
 
 Sir P. So — I have gained much by my intended expostu- 
 lation ; yet with what a charming air she contradicts every 
 thing I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for 
 my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, 
 there is great satisfaction in quarreling with her ; and. I 
 think she never appears to such advantage as w T hen she is 
 doing every thing in "her power to plague me. [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 Miter Lady Teazle. 
 
 Sir P. I mean shortly to surprise you ; but shall we al- 
 ways live thus, hey ? 
 
 Lady T. If you please. I'm sure I don't care how soon 
 we leave off quarreling, provided you'll own you're tired first. 
 
 Sir P. Well, then, let our future contest be who shall be 
 most obliging. 
 
 Lady T. I assure you, Sir Peter, good nature becomes 
 you. You look now as you did before we were married, 
 when you used to walk with me under the elms, and tell me 
 stories of what a gallant you were in your youth, and chuck 
 me under the chin, you would, and ask me if I thought I 
 could love an old fellow who would deny me nothing ; 
 didn't you ? 
 
 Sir P. Yes, yes ; and you were kind and attentive — 
 
 Lady T. Ay, so I was, and would always take your part 
 when my acquaintances would abuse you and turn you into 
 ridicule. 
 
 Sir P. Indeed ! 
 
 Lady T. Ay ; and when my cousin Sophy has called you 
 a stiff, peevish old bachelor, and laughed at me for thinking 
 of marrying one who might be my father, I have always de- 
 fended you, and said I didn't think you ugly by any means. 
 
412 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 Sir P Thank you. 
 
 Lady T. And I dared say you would make a very good 
 sort of husband. 
 
 Sir P. And you prophesied right ; and we shall now be 
 the happiest couple — 
 
 Lady T. And never differ again ? 
 
 Sir P. No, never — though at the same time, indeed, my 
 dear Lady Teazle, you must watch your temper very seri- 
 ously, for in all our little quarrels, my dear, if you recollect, 
 my love, you always begin first. 
 
 Lady T. I beg your pardon, my dear Sir Peter ; indeed 
 you always gave the provocation. 
 
 Sir P. Now see, my angel, take care; contradicting isn't 
 the way to keep friends. 
 
 Lady T. Then don't you begin it, my love. 
 
 Sir P. There, now ! you — you — are going on. You don't 
 perceive, my life, that you are just doing the very thing 
 which, you know, always makes me angry. 
 
 Lady T. Nay, you know, if you will be angry without any 
 reason, my dear — 
 
 Sir P. There, now, you want to quarrel again. 
 
 Lady T. No, I'm sure I don't ; but if you will be so pee- 
 vish — 
 
 Sir P. There, now ; who begins first ? 
 
 Lady T. Why, you, to be sure. I said nothing. But 
 there's no bearing your temper. 
 
 Sir P. No, no, madam, the fault's in your own temper. 
 
 Lady T. You are just what my cousin Sophy said you 
 would be. 
 
 Sir P. Your cousin Sophy is a forward, impertinent gipsy. 
 
 Lady T. You are a great bear, I'm sure, to abuse my rela- 
 tions. 
 
 Sir P. Now may all the. plagues of marriage be doubled 
 on me if ever I make friends with you any more ! 
 
 Lady T. So much the better. 
 
 Sir P. No, no, madam ; 'tis evident you never cared a fig 
 for me, and I was a madman to marry you — a pert rural co- 
 quette, that had refused half the honest squires in the neigh' 
 borhood. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 413 
 
 Lady T. And I was a fool to marry you, an old dangling 
 bachelor, who was single at fifty only because no one would 
 have him. 
 
 Sir P. Ay, ay, madam, but you were pleased enough to 
 listen to me. You never had such an offer before. 
 
 Lady T. No ! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, who every 
 body said would have been a better match ? for his estate 
 is just as good as yours, and he has broke his neck since we 
 were married. * 
 
 Sir P. I have done with you, madam ! You are an un- 
 feeling, ungrateful — but there's an end of every thing. I 
 believe you capable of every thing that is bad. 
 
 Lady T. Take care, Sir Peter, you had better not insinu- 
 ate ! 
 
 Sir P. Very well, madam, very well ! A separate main- 
 tenance as soon as you please. Yes, madam, or a divorce ! 
 I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old 
 bachelors. 
 
 Lady T. Agreed ! agreed ! And now, my dear Sir Peter, 
 we are of a mind once more, we may be the happiest couple 
 — and never differ again, you know — ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, 
 you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only in- 
 terrupt you, so by-by. [Exit. 
 
 Sir P. Plagues and tortures ! Can't I make her angry 
 either ? Oh, I am the most miserable fellow ! But I'll not 
 bear her presuming to keep her temper ; no ! she may break 
 my heart, but she sha'n't keep her temper. 
 
 COURTSHIP UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 
 Snobbleton solas. 
 Snobbleton. Yes, there is that fellow Jones again. I de- 
 clare, the man is ubiquitous. Wherever I go with my cous- 
 in Prudence we stumble across him, or he follows her like 
 her shadow. Do we take a boating? So does Jones. Do 
 we wander on the beach ? So does Jones. Go where we 
 will, that fellow follows or moves before. Now that was a 
 cruel practical joke which Jones once played upon me at 
 college. I have never forgiven him. But I would gladly 
 
414 MANUAL OF BEADING. 
 
 make a pretense of doing so if I could have my revenge. 
 Let me see. Can't I manage it ? He is head over ears in 
 love with Prudence, but too bashful to speak. I half be- 
 lieve she is not indifferent to him, though altogether unac- 
 quainted. It may prove a match if I can not spoil it. Let 
 me think. Ha ! I have it. A brilliant idea ! Jones, be- 
 ware ! But here he comes. 
 
 Enter Jones. 
 
 Jones. (Not seeing Snobbleton, and delightedly contempla- 
 ting a flower which he holds in his hand.) Oh, rapture ! 
 what a prize ! It was in her hair ; I saw it fall from her 
 queenly head. (Kisses it every now and then.) How warm 
 are its tender leaves from having touched her neck ! How 
 doubly sweet is its perfume — fresh from the fragrance of 
 her glorious locks ! How beautiful! how — Bless me, here 
 is Snobbleton, and we are enemies ! 
 
 Snob. Good morning, Jones — that is, if you will shake 
 hands. 
 
 Jones. What ! you — you forgive ! You really — 
 
 Snob. Yes, yes, old fellow ! All is forgotten. You play- 
 ed me a rough trick ; but let bygones be bygones. Will 
 you not bury the hatchet ? 
 
 Jones. With all my heart, my dear fellow ! 
 
 Snob. What is the matter with you, Jones ? You look 
 quite grumpy — not by any means the same cheerful, dash- 
 ing, rollicking fellow you were. 
 
 Jones. Bless me, you don't say so ! (Aside.) Confound 
 the man ! Here have I been endeavoring to appear roman- 
 tic for the last month — and now to be called grumpy — it is 
 unbearable ! 
 
 Snob. But never mind. Cheer up, old fellow ! I see it 
 all. I know what it is to be in — 
 
 Jones. Ah! you can then sympathize with me. You know 
 what it is to be in — 
 
 Snob. Of course I do ! Heaven preserve me from the toils ! 
 And then the letters — the interminable letters ! 
 
 Jones. Oh yes, the letters ! the billet-doux ! 
 
 S?iob. And the bills — the endless bills ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 41.5 
 
 Jones, The bills ! 
 
 Snob. Yes ; and the bailiffs, the lawyers, the judge, and 
 the jury. 
 
 Jones. Why, man, what are you talking about? I thought 
 you said you knew what it was to be in — 
 
 Snob. In debt. To be sure I did. 
 
 Jones. Bless me ! I'm not in debt — never borrowed a dol- 
 lar in my life. Ah me ! it's worse than that. 
 
 Snob. Worse than that ! Come, now, Jones, there is only 
 one thing worse. You're surely not in love ? 
 
 Jones. Yes I am. Oh, Snobby, help me, help me ! Let 
 me confide in you. 
 
 Snob. Confide in me ! Certainly, my dear fellow. See ! 
 I do not shrink — I stand firm. 
 
 Jones. Snobby, I — I love her. 
 
 Snob. Whom? 
 
 Jones. Your cousin Prudence. 
 
 Snob. Ha ! Prudence Angelina Winter ? 
 
 Jones. Now don't be angry, Snobby*; I don't mean any 
 harm, you know. I — I — you know how it is. 
 
 Snob. Harm ! my dear fellow. Not a bit of it. Angry ! 
 Not at all. You have my consent, old fellow. Take her. 
 She is yours. Heaven bless you both. 
 
 Jones. You are very kind, Snobby, but I haven't got her 
 consent yet. 
 
 Snob. Well, that is something, to be sure. But leave it 
 all to me. She may be a little coy, you know ; but, consid- 
 ering your generous overlooking of her unfortunate defect — 
 
 Jones. Defect ! You surprise me. 
 
 Snob. What ! and you did not know of it? 
 
 Jones. Not at all. I am astonished ! Nothing serious, I 
 hope. 
 
 Snob. Oh no ; only a little — {He taps his ear icith his 
 finger Jcnoicingly.) I see you understand it. 
 
 Jones. Merciful heaven ! can it be? But, really, is it se- 
 rious ? 
 
 Snob. I should think it was. 
 
 Jones. What ! But is she ever dangerous ? 
 
 Snob. Dangerous ! Why should she be ? 
 
416 MANUAL OP BEADING. 
 
 Jones. Oh, I perceive. A mere airiness of brain — a gen- 
 tle aberration— scorning the dull world — a mild — 
 
 Snob. Zounds ! man, she's not crazy ! 
 
 Jones. My dear Snobby, you relieve me. What then ? 
 
 Snob. Slightly deaf— that's all. 
 
 Jones. Deaf! 
 
 S?iob. As a lamp-post. That is, you must elevate your 
 voice to a considerable pitch in speaking to her. 
 
 Jones. Is it possible ? However, I think I can manage. 
 As, for instance, if it was my intention to make her a floral 
 offering, and I should say {elevating his voice considerably), 
 " Miss, will you make me happy by accepting these flow- 
 ers ?" I suppose she could hear me, eh ? How would that 
 do? 
 
 Snob. Pshaw ! Do you call that elevated ? 
 
 Jones. Well, how would this do ? (Speaks very loudly.) 
 " Miss, will you make me happy — " 
 
 Snob. Louder, shriller, man ! 
 
 Jones. " Miss, will you — " 
 
 Snob. Louder, louder, or she will only see your lips move. 
 
 Jones. {Almost screaming). " Miss, will you oblige me by 
 accepting these flowers ?" 
 
 Snob. There, that may do. Still, you want practice. I 
 perceive the lady herself is approaching. Suppose you re- 
 tire for a short time, and I will prepare her for the intro- 
 duction. 
 
 Jones. Yery good. Meantime I will go down to the beach, 
 and endeavor to acquire the proper pitch. Let me see : 
 " Miss, will you oblige me—" [Exit Jones. 
 
 Enter Prudence. 
 
 Prudence. Good morning, cousin. Who was that speak- 
 ing so loudly ? 
 
 Snob. Only Jones. Poor fellow, he is so deaf that I sup- 
 pose he fancies his own voice to be a mere whisper. 
 
 Pru. Why, I was not aware of this. Is he very deaf? 
 
 Snob. Deaf as a stone fence. To be sure, he does not use 
 an ear-trumpet any more, but one must speak excessively 
 high. Unfortunate, too, for I believe he's in love. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 417 
 
 Pru. In lovo ! with whom ? 
 
 Snob. Can't you guess ? 
 
 Pru. Oh no ; I haven't the slightest idea. 
 
 Sno b. With yourself! He has been begging me to ob- 
 tain him an introduction. 
 
 Pru. Well, I have always thought him a nice-looking 
 young man. I suppose he would hear me if I should say 
 (speaks loudly) " Good morning, Mr. Jones ?" 
 
 Snob. Do you think he would hear that f 
 
 Pru. Well, then, how would (speaks very loudly) " Good 
 morning, Mr. Jones ?" How would that do ? 
 
 Snob. Tush ! he would think you were speaking under 
 your breath. 
 
 Pru. (Almost screaming.) " Good morning !" 
 
 Snob. A mere whisper, my dear cousin. But here he 
 comes. Now do try and make yourself audible. 
 
 Enter Jones. 
 
 Snob. (Speaking in a high voice.) Mr. Jones, cousin. 
 Miss Winter, Jones. You will please excuse me for a short 
 time. (He retires, but remains ichere he can view the speak- 
 ers.) 
 
 Jones. (Speaking in a loud orotund voice.) Miss, will you 
 accept these flowers? I plucked them from their slumber 
 on the hill. 
 
 Pru. (In a high falsetto voice.) Really, sir, I — I — 
 
 Jones. (Aside.) She hesitates. It must be that she does 
 not hear me. (Increasing his tone.) Miss, will you accept 
 these flowers — flowers ? I plucked them sleeping on the 
 hill — HILL. 
 
 Pru. (Also increasing her tone.) Certainly, Mr. Jones. 
 They are beautiful — beau-u-tiful. 
 
 Jones. (Aside.) How she screams in my ear. (Aloud.) 
 Yes, I plucked them from their slumber — slumber, on the 
 hill — HILL. 
 
 Pru. (Aside.) Poor man, what an effort it seems for him 
 to speak. (Aloud.) I perceive you are poetical. Are you 
 fond of poetry ? (Aside.) He hesitates. I must speak loud- 
 er. (In a scream.) Poetry — Poetry — POETRY ! 
 
 S2 
 
418 MANUAL OF READING. 
 
 Jones. (Aside.) Bless me, the Avoman would wake the 
 dead ! (Aloud.) Yes, miss, I ad-o-r-e it. 
 
 Snob. Glorious ! glorious ! I wonder how loud they can 
 scream. Oh, vengeance, thou art sweet ! 
 
 Pru. Can you repeat some poetry — poetry ? 
 
 Jones. I only know one poem. It is this : 
 
 You'd scarce expect one of my age — Age, 
 To speak in public on the stage — Stage. 
 
 Pru. Bravo ! bravo ! 
 
 Jones. Thank you ! Thank — 
 
 Pru. Mercy on us ! Do you think Pm deaf, sir ? 
 
 Jones. And do you fancy me deaf, miss ? (Natural tone.) 
 
 Pru. Are you not, sir ? You surprise me ! 
 
 Jones. No, miss. I was led to believe that you were 
 deaf. Snobbleton told me so. 
 
 Pru. Snobbleton ! Why, he told me that you were deaf. 
 
 Jones. Confound the fellow ! he has been making game 
 of us. 
 
 \ 
 
RAGE. 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 

 
 I 
 
 Prone. 
 
 Vertical. 
 
 Clasped. 
 
 Applied. 
 
 Fold«d. 
 
 Crossed. 
 
 Enumerating. 
 
 Touching. 
 
te 36874 
 
 M209502 
 
 
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