LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE HiONia J13HS m/'-'v '-5 PRICE ONE SHILLING. 5URGLAR BILL By F. ANSTEY, Author o? "Vice Versa," &c., kc. (Reprinted from "Punch.") ADBURY, AGNEW, k CO., BOUVERIE STREET, LONDON. BUKGLAR BILL %n\i #tber pieces FOE THE USE OP THE YOUNG EECITEE. BUPiGLAK BILL %n^ ©t{)i:r ]^ittts FOR THE USE OF THE YOUNG RECITER. WITH INTRODUCTION, REMARKS, AND ST A GE-DIREGTIONS. By F. ANSTEY. REPRINTED, WITH SOME ALTERATION AND REVISION, FROM "Punch:' LONDON : BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 9, BOUYERIE ST., E.C. 5 -. LONDON : EUADBCRY, ACNEW, (fc CO,, PRINTERS, WHITKFllIARS. CONTENTS, « PAGE INTRODUCTION 1 EXAMPLE No. 1. Style : Tl>e " Sympathetic Artlcxx.''' Recitation- : •' BURGLAR BILL " 9 EXAMPLE No. 2. Style : 77k? " Sporting Senmtioruil." Recitation: "JUNIPER JEM" 17 EXAMPLE Xo. 3. Style : TJie " Tear-laden Domestic." Recitation : "FILIAL LITTLE FRANK- .... 2-'. EXAMPLE No. 1. Style: '• 17ie Mchidramatir Weird.'" Recitation : "THE CONSCIENCE-CURST.- .... :w PAGE vi CONTENTS. EXAMPLE No. 5. Style : " The Low Life Realistic." Recitation: "A COSTER'S CONVERSION." . . . . 36 EXAMPLE No. 6. Style : The " Tranmtlantic Familiar:' Recitation : " HASDRUBAL JOPP," 45 EXAMPLE No. 7. Style : The " Sensumsly Harrowing:^ Recitation : " THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL." 52 EXAMPLE No. 8. Style : The " Marine Emotional." Recitation : " THE WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP PUFFIN."" 59 EXAMPLE No. 9. Style : The "■Bucolic Bvttonholhuj:' Recitation : "MICHAELMAS DAY.' 07 EXAMPLE No. 10. Style : The " Teutonic Imaginative:' Recitation : ■' THE RECREANT RECLADIED " . . . 74 CONTENTS. vii EXAMPLE No. 11. PAGE Style : The " Triumphant Traffic." Recitation: "A FOREGONE VENGEANCE". . . RO EXAMPLE No. 12. Style : Tlie " Voluptuously Melancholic." Recitation: -k PROPOS DE BOTTES" .... 85 EXAMPLE No. 13. Style : The " Homely Pathetic." Recitation : " POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE." 92 BUEGLAR BILL gnb Qtlnx puces FOR THE USE OF THE YOUNG RECITER. INTEODUCTION The Art of Recitation, pronounced (by certain of its professors) to be the noblest of all the Arts, has, it is almost unnecessar}' to say, been held in the highest lionour from a very early period in the World's Histor}'. Ancient Greece had her Khapsodists, who were simply an organised and official body of professional reciters. Plutarch relates that the Syracusans, after defeating Nicias, spared all of their prisoners who were able to recite, though to some, indeed, this story will appear so strange as to be well-nigh incredible. In Rome, too, during the golden age of Augustus, and for at least a century afterwards, poets were in the liabit, on warm days, of reciting their own compositions to their friends, whose keen appreciation of these in- tellectual privileges may be gathered from certain pas- sages in the works of Horace and Juvenal. Instances 2 INTRODUCTION. could doubtless be multiiilied ; but enough has perhaps been said to establish the antiquity of the Art, and the peculiar veneration that has always attached to its votaries. And this veneration continues even to the present day. Go where we will in modern society, the most prominent feature "on the carpet" is the Amateur Keciter; and there is no shorter cut to social dis- tinction, no surer method of conquering the admira- tion and affection of one's fellow creatures, than by cultivating the power of committing familiar poems to memory, and then repeating them aloud to a select circle of friends and acquaintances. These things being so, a Manual by which these surely not undesirable results are brought within the compass of the meanest capacit}^ should require but little in the way of apology. The Compiler cannot — for obvious personal reasons — advise that the poems to be recited should be the exclusive pro- duct of the Reciter's own Muse; nor can he hold forth any reasonable prospect that a pupil who has mastered the art of recitation, will be able to save his life thereb}' in situations of bodily peril ; for such a course should only be resorted to at the last instance, and even then — now that the ancient Syracusans have ceased to exist — will not improbably precipitate, rather than avert, the doom of him wlio should venture to adopt it. But, with these exceptions, there is no more enjoy- able, and (if pursued with moderation), healthful INTRODVCTJON. 3 exercise, nor any better fitted to further the ends of a young man desirous of making a noise in the world, and setting people talking, than that of public Recitation. Such a young man — and, for that matter, a young woman with similar aims — will, it is anticipated, find in this little Manual a guide which will lead them by sure and easy stages to the summit of their highest ambitions. It consists of a series of studies, designed to cover as wide a range as possible, and graduated in pro- portion to the pupil's progi-ess, which, from their extreme simplicity, are eminently adapted to the powers of the Amateur Eeciter, while they are accom- panied by suggestions and stage du-ections that should render an Elocution Coach altogether superfluous. Indeed, the Compiler is bold enough to assert that a young Eeciter who wiU take the trouble diligently to master all the examples, and declaim them in public, will be capable of almost anything, if he lives. As for the pieces themselves, they are new and original, but are not put forth with any view of challenging comparison with those existing master- pieces which have already been occupied as fields for elocutionary enterprise ; they are oflered merely as a milder and preparatory course, after which the estab- lished favourites (which are really very limited in number) can be attacked with confidence. Still, witlioiit undue conceit, the Compiler trusts that the poems in liis collection are, on their own 4 mTUODUCTION. merits, not altogether unworthy of bemg dedicatecl to that flower of Nineteenth Century Culture — the gifted but w^holly untrained Amateur. They may not be destined to rank among the Classics ; but the poet's heart has gone out into every line, to an extent which was occasional!}' inconvenient ; the workman- ship, though not showy, is sound ; the rhymes have been tested at every stoppage, like railway wheels ; and the metre will be found on examination more correct than any supplied by the most conscientious Gas Company. More than this can scarcely be said — but, at the same time, it would be impossible to say less. It only remains therefore, to offer the Student a few general hints, which, as it is extremely impro- bable in the nature of things that they will ever be read, will not be found impertinent. And we will treat : Istly. Of Practice. — This, to l^e beneficial, must be con- stant. You should practise Elocution in your tub, in the street, in your morning train or omnibus, at your office desk or in your professional chambers, and at the restaurant where you are accustomed to lunch. Never mind what people say or think — if you do, you will never become a Reciter. The main thing to be acquired is total indifiFerence to the presence of a crowd. A person, who is now a distin- guished ornament of several suburban back-drawing-rooms, once admitted to the present writer that he attributed his sangfroid and the purity of his enunciation (both of which are peculiar), entirely to a habit, formed by him in early life^ of walking down Piccadilly every afternoon, repeating " The INTRODUCTION. 5 Pied Piper of Hanieliu " at the top of his voice, with a hot potato in his mouth. A similar, thoutrh not identical, anecdote is recorded of Demosthenes. 2ndly. Of Business. — It will seem, at first hearing:, a hard saying to the enthusiastic young Amateur, who is conscious that Nature intended him for better things than the par- ticular occupation by which he is supposed to gain his livelihood — but it is true notwithstanding — that he will never make a mark as a Reciter, if he neglects his business. Let him take courage, however, the business we are referring to is not likely to be at all repugnant to him. What is meant here thereby is merely a series of appropriate motions and gestures, the chastened and restrained form of which serves to distinguish Recitation from that coarser and less imaginative Art styled " Dramatic." You will have no difficulty in conceiving that the audience you are to delight may be somewhat limited in intelligence. It is not their fault, and you must try to make allowances for this dulness of theirs, and do what you can to assist it. This assistance is what is known in the profession as "business." For example, suppose you have to describe to them a strong swimmer battling with the waves — it will be impossible to convey so subtle and elusive an idea to their minds without actually going through a sort of short panto- mime of the act of swimming. Even here, however, judg- ment must be employed, and, unless your audience be very dense indeed, there is no need for you absolutely to lie down on the floor and strike out. Always leave something to be supphed by the imagination — but take care to leave as little as possible. Accessories, as we shall see in the course of our examples, have a distinct value, and it will 6 INTRODUCTION. scarcely be believed wliat wonderful effects can be produced by such simple means as a music-stand, a flower-pot, or even a folding-hat. We will pass on, however, to the considera- tion of an agreeable convention, indispensable to all Reciters, which we will term " The Imaginary Second Person." ^rdlij. Of The Imaginary Second Person. — The Imaginary Second Person has no corporeal existence. To invest this Figment with a personality which shall be realised by your audience, to endow him with sentiments and opinions — without the utterance by him of a single word — this is indeed a triumph of Elocutionary Ai't ! Yet it can be done, and this Manual will teach you how to do it. You must have absolute faith in him yourself, and learn to conceive of him as a curious, sceptical, or sympathetic Interlocutor, as the case may be. We have known cases where — such was the art employed — that the Viewless and Voiceless One was actually preferred by the audience to the Reciter himself ! Athly. Of Facial Expr elusion. — In ordinary life, violent facial expression is seldom employed. Little or no play of feature is brought to bear in directing a cabman, or taking a railway ticket, and only a very demonstrative person would seek in asking his way to arouse the sympathy of, say a pohceman, by arching his eyebrows, enlarging his eyes, extending his hand, and communicating a quiver of suspense to his lips. But on the platform, everything is exaggerated, or it wiU be un perceived : your audience expect animation — even in the most trivial situations. Endeavour, then, to impart the utmost flexibility to your facial muscles, practise elevating INTL'ODUCTTON. 7 each eyebrow iiidopondcntly of the otlier, roll your eyes until they work with perfect ease in their sockets, and train your lips to acquire the elasticity of gutta-percha. For the nose, a haujjhty expansion of the nostrils will greatly aid the effect of a sneer. The ears should be left in repose. We have only seen one Reciter who made any points with these organs, and it seemed to us that his method involved a certain loss of dignity. bthbj. Of Voice Regulation. — The Beginner but too often finds that, in delivering a sentiment which should be highly impressive, he produces it at the critical moment in a some- what broken-winded fashion. The best remedy for this is to take a raw egg beaten up in sherry immediately before the line at which experience teaches him he is in danger of failure. The more frequently he recites, the fewer will be the eggs with which it will be necessary to provide himself. 6/A///. Of the Falsetto. — It is still a moot point how far the employment of the falsetto is desirable in a young reciter. Some maintain that it is invariably resented by the audience as an additional — we should say a blemish in an otherwise meritorious performance. For his own part, the ^\Titer is distinctly of opinion that, for portraying agonised mothers, very young children, distressed females, and old men, there is nothing more effective than a sustained falsetto. What, for instance, would our national drama of " Islv. Punch " lie, without the aid of the falsetto ? — but here we are straying into the domains of the Sister Art. "tthly. Of Nervousness. — True talent is always more or less nervous. The greater your nervousness, the more in- S INTRODUCTION. contestable are your gifts. By betraying palpable discom- posure, you at once afford your audience a gratifying sense of superiority, and nothing tends so much to put ordinary mankind in good humour — with themselves first and after- wards with the inspirer. Therefore it seems unwise to adopt any remedy for what is in itself a recommendation. Nervousness may indeed cause you to lose your memory to a degree which may render you incapable of proceeding, but we are not sure that even that — however, do not worry yourself about nervousness. ^thly. Of Talcing an Encore. — Instruction on this head is almost needless. When you get an encore, you will know instinctively how to take it — and the Compiler very cordially wishes that you may get it. All has now been said that is necessary by way of prefatory remark, and we can accordingly proceed to practical work without further delay. BUEGLAR BILL. EXAMPLE No. 1. Style : Tlip " SiimpaUwHc Artless" The compiler would not be acting fairly by the young Reciter if, in recommending the following poem as a subject for earnest study, he did not caution him — or her — not to be betrayed by the apparent simplicity of this exercise into the grave error of under-estimating its real difficulty. It is true that it is an illustration of Pathos of an elemen- tary order (we shall reach the advanced kind at a later stage), but, for all that, this piece bristles with as many points as a porcupine, and consequently requires the most cautious and careful handling. Upon the whole, it is perhaps better suited to students of the softer sex. Announce the title with a suggestion of shy innocence — in this wav : BURGLxiR ["ow open bofh eyes very wide'] BILL. \Tl\en yo on in a hushed voire, avd irilJi an air of iro?uh'r at the irorhPs i/iiqid/i/. I. Through a window in the attic, Brawny Diirglar Bill has crept ; 10 BURGLAR BILL. Seeking stealthily a chamber Wliere the jewelleiy is kept. \_Pronouncc either "jarchij" or ^'jooJery,'" according io taste. II. He is f LU'uished with a " jemmy," Centre-bit, and carpet-bag, For the latter " comes in handy," So he says, " to stow the swag."' [_" Jemmy, ^'' "centre-hit,'''' " carpet-hag,'' are important icords — fut good colouring into them. III. Here, upon the second landing. He, secure, may work his will : Down below 's a dinner ])arty, Up above — the house is still, \_Here start and extend first finger, rememlering to maJce it tvaggle slightly, as from fear. IV. Suddenly — in spell-bound horror, All his satisfaction ends — For a little white-robed figure By the banister descends ! \_This last line requires care in delivery, or it may he imagined that the little figure is sliding down the hanisters, ivhich would simply ruin the effect. Note the hold hut classic use of the singular in " hanister,'" which is more pleasing to a nice ear than the p^lural. V. Bill has reached fnr his revolvei', \_Business here with your fan. Yet — he hesitates to fire . . . RUBdLAll f'JLL. 11 Child is it ? [m a dread whispei-'\ or — apparition, That provokes him to perspire ? VI. Can it be his guardian angel, Sent to stay his hand from crime ? [7n a tone of awe. He could wish she had selected Some more scasonal)le time ! \_Tonrli of peevish di>icon1ent here. VII. " Go away ! " he whimpers hoarsely, " Burglars hev their bread ter earn. I don't need no Gordian angel (livin' of me sech a t\irn ! " [^Shudder here, and retreat, f^hieldinf/ ej/es irith hand. I Xoic change ijour manner to a naive, surpri.'^e ; this, in spite of anijthing we may have said previov sly, is in this par- ticular instance not best indicated by a shrill falsetto. viri. But the blue eyes open wider, Iiulw lips reveal their pearl ; [7V//.S mvsl not be talren to refer to the Burglar. " I is not a Garden anzel, Only — dust a yickle dirl I [Be particularly artless here and through next stanza. TX. " On the thtairs to thit I'm doin' Till the tarts and dellies tum ; Partinthon (our Butler) alwayth Thavcs for Baby Bella thome I n 2 12 BURGLAR BILL. " Poor man, 'oo is yookin' 'ungwy — Leave 'oo burgling fings up dere ; Turn viz me and share the sweeties, Thitting on the bottom thtair ! " [/;? rendering the above Ike i/oiin// Reciter should strive to be idionuitic without ever becoming idiotic — ivldch is not so easy as might be imagined. XI. " Eeely, Miss, you must excoose mc I '" Says the Burglar with a jerk : \^Indimte embarrassment here bg smoothi/ig duu-u the fetds of your gown, and swajjing awkwardly. " Dooty calls, and time is pressing ; I must set about my work ! " l^Tkis with a gruff co?iscientiousness. XII. l^JVow assume your wide-eged innocence again. " Is 'oo work to bweak in houses ? Nana told me so, I'm sure I Will 'oo see if 'oo can manage To bweak in my dolVs-house door ? XIII. " I tan never det it undone. So my dollies tan't det out ; They don't yike the fwont to open Evewy time they'd walk about ! BURGLAR BILL. 13 XIV, •• Twy, and — if 'oo does it nithely — Wlii'ii I'm tlu'iit uptlitairs to thleej). [Don't overdo the tisj). i will hwing "uo up tlujiuc doodies, 'Oo tliall liiive them all — to keep ! " XV. [Pause here ; then, with intense feeling and sympathy — Off the little "angel" flutters : [Delicate stress on "angel.'' But the Burglar — wipes his brow. He is wholly unaccustomed To a kindlv greeting now I [Tremble in voice here. XVI. Ne\er with a smile of welcome Has he seen his entrance met ! Xg memories of this last adventure— the one bright and cheering episode, p)0ssi'blg, in his entire pro- fessional career. Fast he speeds across the housetops ! — [Rapid delivery for this. [Very gently.^ Uut his bosom throbs with bliss. For upon his rough lips linger Traces of a baby's kiss. [Most delicate treatment will be necessary in the last couplet — or thr audience may understand it in a painfully literal sense. -X- * ■::■ * [You hare nothing before you now but the finale. Make the contrast as marked as possible. 16 BURGLAR BILL. XXYII, Dreamily on downy pillow [iSoff mi/sical intonation for this. Baby Bella murmurs sweet : [Smile here with sleepy tenderness. " Burglar — tmu adain, and thee me . . . I will dive 'oo cakes to eat ! " \_That is one side of the medal — noivfor the other. XXVIII. [Harsh hut emotional In a garret, worn and weary, Burglar Bill has sunk to rest, Clasping tenderly a damson- Tartlet to his burly breast. [Dwell lovingly upon the icord " tartlet " — which you should press home upon every one of your hearers, rememl)ering to fold yourlmnds lightly over your heart as you conclude. If you do not find that several susceptible and eligible bachelors have been Jcnoclced completely out of time by this little recitation, you will have made less progress in your Art than may be confide7itly anticipated. JUNIPEE JEM. EXAMPLE No. 2. Style : The " Sjm-Ung-Sensational''' Any effusion, however mediocre in itself, that treats of snine incident in which the Horse is a prominent figure is tolerably certain to excite the throb of enthusiasm in the bosoms of an average British audience. Xor will the attain- ment of this very gratifying result be appreciably affected by the mere fact that the author's acquaintance with equine matters is neither jirofouud nor even accurate. But the Compiler of this little Manual happens to be tormented by a conscientiousness which is almost morbid, and impels him to incur any expense rather than expose his confiding pupils to the slightest risk of encountering ridicule. Accordingly the little poem wliich forms the subject of thi.s study has been submitted for revision to a gentleman whose absolute infallil)ility u])()ii all topics connected with the Turf is sufficiently vouched for by his position as Sporting Prophet upon one of our leading daily papers. The stage directions are of course our own. The .Student may make an appropriate and effective entrance by coming on in top-boots and a jockey-cap, and will help his reading immensely by flourishing a whip (with judgment) at intervals. 18 JUNIPER JEM. Announce your title with less modesty than in the previous study — thus : JUNIPER [mcsc^ JEM. \_Then flick your rigid hout ivifh Uie wJiip, and dash im- jJetuoKfili/ at the first line.'] I. Yes ! [aggressicelij, as if somchodij laid just implied that it ivasn't.'] Steeple-chasing is stirring sport — and the most exciting events of all Are at Purlingham Park, when the field is large, and the ditches deej), and the fences tall, And I for one shall never forget — till my brain is blurred and my eyes are dim, [^Pass hand over Irow and blink, ii-illi Jusf a suggestion of 2)athos. The day that Dot and Go One was steered by an infant hero — [with a hurst of candour'] — Juniper Jem ! [Quieter erplanatory manner for next two lines. II. Itobert Roper was down to ride, and we'd backed his mount, for he knew the course. And, Gad ! he'd have managed to romp in first if they put him up on a rocking-horse ! But out of the paddock the horses filed — and a murmur ran : " It is Roper's son ! Why, where the dickens can Robert be, that he's not in charge of Dot and Go One ? " J UNI r Ell JEM. 19 III. And the devotees vi " The Rin^^ and the Book " said many 11 swear as they saw the lad : While some declared that the bets were oil'; and all con- sidered the outlook bad. For Dot and Go One — though a grand old gee — was a trifle groggy in wind and limb, And we feared he would never run up to his form, with a child on his l)ack like Juniper Jem. [Shake your head apprchensivehj. IV. Now Roper, it happened, was under a cloud, and the Stewards had given hiui notice to quit. For [cipulofjeticaUij'] a little artistic " arrangement in oils " he'd endeavoured to paint on the favourite's bit. " They might ha' waited ! " his trainer cried, " and warned him off when the race was run, For Where's the party to take his place, and perform as pilot to Dot and Go One r " \_Gaze round room despairingly. V. [Lower key.'] And the silence answered — for no one spoke, till — [brighten up here] — just as the last faint hope had gone — Came [in a lone of tcondcring pilg] a chit of seven, and said : '•I'll try ! [Palhelicallg] I am only a child, hut— [icHh modest confideftce] — I can stick on I See, Fve donned my father's jacket and cap — his cords encircle my legs so slim, They arc nndersized, [with childish frankness'] I was nui-sed on gin — which is why they call me Juniper Jem. 20 JUNIPER JEM. VI. " But, iu spite of my size and my tender years, though I've seldom been on a liorse before, I'll keep in the saddle, whatever befalls — and the finest horseman can do no more I And the simple boon that I crave of you, when the post is passed and my duty done, Is — my father's Pardon ! " [Pause : then impulsively'] . . . " A Bargain, boy I " \_,Second pause — tJien quietly'] so they hoisted him up on Dot and Go One. VII. \_Hisioric Present for followiny stanzas. Let your delivery he rapid, hrilliant, illustrated, yraphic, sporting, and dramatic — and you caii't possibly fail. He has come into line with the pick of the field ; with the chestnut, the bay, and the strawberry roan, [^WWi air of gradual idenlificalion. The Stiff'uu, and Catsmeat, Polonia's Pride, and Tituppiug Tommy, and Second Trombone. Xow they're off with a jump at the fall of the flag, and the beather-topped hurdles [Do mind your h's here, or you may came a cropper over these hurdles] they airily skim. But the boy ! [Bend forward and strain your eyes eagerly — then tvith irrepressible enthusiasm] Like a leech to the pigskin he sticks ! And we shout to him, " Bravo, Juniper Jem !" ["y>/o" here — if you ran manaye it, and hioiv u'hat it is. JUNIPER JEM. 21 VIII. One's down I it is Catsmeat, \_exclkdlij'\ she's made a mistake— she has touched her timber, she's into the ditch ! See, little Bill Larrup is getting the lead, and urging The Stiflf'un with spur and with switch, [ Work hoik arms here like a jocko//, or a larcje bird. But [in tremhUng accents] we haven't the heart to look at the child — why, it's Gunter's shop to a penny bun AYe shall see him off at the Water-jump !— for he doesn't seem happy on Dot and Go One I IX. [Lower your voice ; intense anxiety, ririd facial expression, all your features working hard. They are close at it now, and [groan] his stirrups are lost — and — merciful powers ! what is he about ? [Agonised glance at front row of audience here. There ! what did I tell you ? the pair of 'em in — and it's odds if a pair of 'em ever come out ! But — [iwinting] — wonder of wonders ! look — Dot and Go One has scrambled out — and on top of him. Damp and draggled, but sticking tight, [laugh here hysteri- cally] like a game little limpet, is Juniper Jem ! Coughing and wheezing they canter on ; there's an awkward post and rails to be passed, See, The Stiff 'un has shirked — he refuses . . . twice — and the second time little Bill Larrup is grassed ! 22 JUNIPEli JEM. 'Tis the boy's turn now — and we hold oni- breath, and we watch for the dayh'ght . . . \_Pause. [ }Vith a cry of (Miglded astonishment.^ By Jove ! there's none 'Twixt the baggy buckskins of Juniper Jem, and the sh'ppery saddle of Dot and Go One ! [Qniet doivn again. XI, And the gallant grey is galumphing on, like the scion true of a rare old stock, (For isn't he brother to Creepie Stool, and stable-companion to Golden Crock ?) There's a brook in front — but he plunges in aiul strikes out boldly — he's game to swim. \Not that horses do strilcp oat — in the icator at /rast^-bat vl/at does it nmtter in a Recitation f] And he's shaking himself on the opposite side — but he can't shake off young Juniper Jem I ?:rT. There are only a couple ahead of him now, and he shambl(;s up with his raking stride ; And the poor old Trombone's beginning to blow, as he pants in the rear of Polonia's Pride. She is over the five-foot fence like a frog — but the Trom- bone's down, and out of the fun ; [Put both hands to mouth, and yeW] Xow — rmm him at it, Juniper Jem I [Relieved.^ Well, he's done it somehow, on Dot and Go One! JUNirRR JEM. 23 XIII. One more — and the finish. They're neck and neck. [Witlt, acute disgust.'] Why, hang it all — they will muff the mound ! Polonia's Pride goes down on her knees, \_Joij'\ and our noble grey has his nose to the ground I \_Horror.'] [Pau.se — t/ien in triump/i.] But he's up the first — with the boy on his back, though we cannot call his condition trim, [Duhiousli/.] And he certainly Jtas a peculiar seat — Imt he sticks to the saddle, does Juniper Jom I XIV. There's a roar from the Ring, and a shout from the Stand, as they bucket by with a final burst ; For the mare is beaten by half a head, and the clever old grey is at home the first ! And the crowd are cheering the pallid child, as he capless sits in the burning sun, " Hip, hip, hooray ! for the infant pluck that has scored a win with Dot and do One I " XV. But the boy replies with a gentle smile : [Kcpp tJii.<■ ricidli/ suugested ly rotUny your eyes and twisting your Jumdb'rchipf. "Oh, hush, my own little Frankie ! [forced rhcerfid/iess] Pupsy's Her Majesty's Guest, And, while she desires his attendance, he's boimd to obey her behest I " [nn'Id ayain ; with, a stow smile of daicniny inlclliyenre ; you may find this difficult — practise if. '* Then .... if 7" do as he. will the Queen invite me to no to Papa, and her J'alace see ?" And the Mother sighs '• Yes'" — for she dare not confess the assumption is based on a fallacy ! [Bow your head here in choked resiynatlvn. ^\ow continue in IrisJcer rein as narrator : But the mystified Frankie pondered : what: had his father done To deserve such an invitation ? He questioned many a one ; And, from all he heard, the child inferred — should he stone a suburban train. Or do anything naughty — then (if he was canght) he would soon see his Pupsy again ! [Brisker still for fdlawiny stanza. So he wandered down to the railway, and there, on the jdatform, he came To a curious kind of contrivance — I cannot nnii'mbiT its name — [This with a fine carelessness, which can lie easily rendered by a backward jerlc of the left hand. c 2 28 FILIAL LITTLE FMANK. But there is a slit in tlie middle of it, and, when you've inserted your coin, A mild cigarette, or some toflfee, you get — whichever you experience joy in. [The rhyme here is, perhaps, the least hH forced — though not more tlian is aUoirabte in a Recitation— stilt, do not insist too much irpoii it. Now irorlc up the excitement for the nei-t stanza. Gallant spirited delivery. Here was the means before him of rejoining his parent at last I And his eyes at the thought shone brighter, and his breath came thick and fast ; 'Twas a desperate feat such an engine to clieat — but the prize ! He had centred his soul in it ! And he'd plenty of string, and — most fortunate thing I — a penny, possessing a hole in it ! [_Malce your ^' striny^'' ratlier prolonged ; express a naive delight in "fortunate ;" and see that your "penny " comes out with a ritig, otherwise it may fall Jtat. For next stanza resume your quieter historic style. Well ; he fastened the string to his penny— and again and again it dropped, Till the toffee was all exhausted, ;in(l then — the machinery stopped, And the fraud was perceived, though the child was relieved, having never intended to cadge his treat ! [Laugh a light-hearted little laugh here. But B. 32 said [cold-blooded sneer for this"], " I'd recommend you to reserve your remarks I'or the Magistrit ! " [iVo^f comes your great op)portunity ; let out the latent sod in your voice, make your audience feel tvith you the eternal irony that attends all youthful illusions. FILIAL LITTLE FRANK. 29 Alas ! for his cliildish fancy I i'or tlie Bench [« quiver here~\ was cruel and cold : It. did not believe little Franlde, and the artless tale that he told ! His hi,i,'h-niinded deed was ])nt down to the greed of a little unprincipled urchin, \_Sliilc i/uiir L'oivi' Jicre i/i jMui. And a brutal official (paid extra to swish all) was ordered — to bring the new birch in I [Gaze vpirard now icitk a rapt expression, as of one he- lioldinij a vision in the chandelier. So Frankic — failed ; for they sent him home. But will it be aliraijs thus ? Ah, no I [break into a (jradaal smile of tender ecstasy'] for he, too, will be fetched one day by the Royal Omnibus, [Reverently here. And a cry of joy from a radiant boy will echo through Holloway-yard : [Thi- innocent, rhildish voice again for last line raised in yleefnl exaltation. " Oh, Pupsy I see . . . She has sent for nie ; and I'm here for a fortnight's 'hard' !" Until you ha\e actually recited these lines in public, you can have no idea of the extraordinary effect they are capable of producing. THE CONSCIENCE-CUEST ! EXAMPLE No. 4. Style : Thf " JModramafic Wcinir It is the dearest wisli of most young Amateur Reciters to succeed — though but for one moment — in curdhng a horrified audience. This desire, if restrained within moderate ])Ounds, is by no means deserving of discouragement. There is no reason whatever why audiences should not be curdled — provided they do not personally object to this form of dissipation. The only danger is that he who goes forth to curdle may excite nothing more than a mild amuse- ment, which, to all intents and purposes, amoujits practically to a failure in Art. H()we\er, the Student may dismiss any gloomy anti('i])ations of this kind in the case of the present piece, on condition, of course, that the accompanying directions ai'c iin])licitly followed in public, for, unless the pupil is willing to submit to our method, we cannot guarantee him even a moderate degree of success. As befoi'c, you slioiild dc\<)te special attention to your title, which may l)e nnnounced after this fashion. Stalk into the middle of tlic I'oom or platt'onn, with one hand in your ])osoiii, and your eyes staring us in a trance. Then, in a hollow voice, Inii'l the lunne of ihc ])0cni at the nearest old lady : TJIF! CONSVIENCE-CURHT ! 31 THE CONSCIENCE-CURST! [And, if you do it proper I ij, slic will Jii/np like anytMmj. T. The night-owl shrieked : ;i uililxuis iiuioii peered jiallid o'er the yew ; The clammy tombstones eacli distilled a dank unwholesome dew ; [Shudder here with your shoulders. Asthrou so in a sufficiently yhastly and impressive manner ; other I vise — dofi't. III. Then, by the village gi'ecn, he gave a conscience-stricken jump, As guiltily he gazed upon the Presentation Pump ! [Start here, ((s if you had Just observed a centipede upon the carpel. 3i THE (VXSVIENCE-CUliST! "How like," he muttered witli a groan, '"my uncle as he slept ! " Then raised its handle rcvereutly — but found it cold, and wept. [In last line hend slighthj forward icilh extended hand, then allow ijour arm to drop lifelcsshj to your side, and boa- yotir head twice, very solemnly. We have fX' stamps), he shall he happy to for- ward, post free, alternative stanzas in which even suburban susceptibihties shall hnd nothin<<: of an objectionable nature. In going on to deliver this recitation, you should make some slight alterations in your evening dress, such as turning up the ends of your trousers, knotting a silk wrapper round your neck, and wearing your coat inside out. It is true that even then you will not haxa completely hit off" the dis- tinctive garb of the typical costeiTnonger, but the disguise will serve to give you confidence and produce the proper degree of illusion. Announce vuur title with a boisterous blufrness : A COSTER'S CONVERSION. [T/if/i clear your throat and proceed.'] I. 80 yer want me to tell yer about it ': Well, yer don't seem a had sort o' bloke : \_Tliis is addressed to the inuit/i/iarij second person. Set down on the hedge o' my barrer — and miiul yer don't tip up the moke I [•' Molce,"" as i/oii may he aa.'are, is a donkey — in the present 38 A COSTER'S CONVERSION. case of course invmhle, and siipjwsed to he liarnessed to an unseen hanoir. Thesv Utile details imjiart a greater vh'idness to the tiling. Yer kin stand me a drain when I'm done, if yer like, as the public is 'andy by, And this 'ere is a yarn as I never could spin 'ithout fjettin' 'usky and dry ! II. I'm a rough kind o' cove, Ijut it's bin my pride as I've led a regular life, Bein' niver too tight of a Saturday night but what I kin wallop the wife. In liquor I'm alius light 'arted, and fling things about pretty free, For a 'ardworkin' man at the end o' the week — well, he must 'ave a bit of a spree ! \_If it is intended in do tin's- in naj7hani or Brixton, urite for alternative verse. ITI. So we lived worry 'appy together fur nigli upon fifteen year : And our 'ome was abloomin' 'umble 'ome — but tlie 'umblest 'ome kin be dear ! [^Rougli iKithos ; the cpitliel " lAoomin! ""is a little crude {for Camherivell), hut you can go round and cqmlogise fur it afterwards. And I got that sweet on the place, sir, that — there, you may call it strange I If yer'd orfered me Buckinim Pallis, I'm blest if I think I'd change I \Jilaii your hiee tcith sujjpressed feeling. A COST E IV S CONVErxSION. 30 IV. Then, hall on a suddiu', my thoughts got turned the t'other way about ; Fur I come on one o' them Soshah"st chaps, as stand at corners and spout. " Feller-workers and Friends ! " sez he, " Serciety's rotten an' holler ! Think o' yer comfitless 'omes," he sez, " and yer lives as is spent in squoUer ! V. " Then think o' the gorgeous gilded rooms that's howned by the bloated rich, As crams 'em with hobjects of Culcher an' Hart — yo\r\\ never set hcyes on sich. Them Swells is a wasteful, extravagant lot — as you'll jedge for yersclves when you hear, That they spends on soap in a single week what "ud keep you a fortnight in beer I " VI. "Well, he jawed away, till 1 seed quite clear — what I\l never believed till then — That the 'ome as I'd bin so proud ctu was honly a 'orrible den I 'Ow could iL hever be anythiiik else but poverty-stricken and sordid, AVhen there wasn't not one of them luxuries there of which I 'ad been defrorded ? {^Render this wif/i jxissioii, but ici/Ii a suggestion at the. same time that your mood has changed since. 40 A COSTER'S CONVERSION, V'll. For many a daj", as 1 thought this hout, I'd take and cry like a child, And tiic light seemed all blowed out o' my life, and its innercent pleasmxs spiled ; And the longer I went on livin' the lower my sperrits sunk, Till the Missus's eyes wavn't black fur a month — for T 'adn't no art to git drunk ! l^This is a true and palhr'iic touch — but not recommended for Peclfham. VIII. I reely believe, if I 'adn't bin roused, I was well on the road to ruin, But I felt as T must make a hefFort some'ow — so I give a copper a doin', As 'ad said my barrer Avas blockiu' tliu way, and they took me afore a beak, And lie see what I wanted was change o' hair, so he sent me to quod fur a week. [.4 jHinse liere, lo mark the daim of a new era. IX. AVell, when I come out at the hend o' my time, I felt like a haltered cove, And back, with a chastened art, I sped to n)y liattic in Lisson (Jrove ; And 1 clambered up by the crazy stair, and 1 softly hopened the door — Then I started back . . . [^Tliis y's !j:)iir highest dramaiic h't/ht. Worlc it up. .... There was nothink there the same as I'd seen afore I A rosTER'S fONVEBSToy. 41 X. I couldn't think fur the turn IM got, 'cept wonderin' — What did it mean ? It made me shiver and shake for fright. [Drop your voice to a hushed irhi.yjer. — fur the blessed floor was clean / Cut I wentured in ; though I rubbed my heyes, fur darned if it didn't seem That either I couldn't be right in my 'cd, or was in some 'orrible dream ! [7'ake breath, then continm in tone of concentrated horror. XT. Fur the room was painted a light pea-green (which the same is a culler I 'ates !) And on 'ooks, where you couldn't get at 'em, was 'anging up blue and white plates ! The mantelpiece had a petticut on — and, hup on the winder- siU, Was a mug o' nascissors, as smelt that loud it werry nigh turned mo ill ! XII. Then the door was a dollop o' Japanese fans, and the cup- board was gashly white, And hover it some 'un 'ad sprinkled a job-lot o' spadgers in flight ! A thing as they calls a '*dodo" on the walls was a runnin' round, And my old gal was a settiu' asleep, in a ruebub-cullered gownd I 42 A COST EH' S CON VERSION. XIII. In my hown arm-cheer, as they'd given a coat of horiential red, And a big humbcrella was upside down on the ceihnk over her 'ed ! [ Try here to realise how excessively all this woiiJd he calcu- lated to annoy a Costermonger. Well, I routed 'er up in a second, and I sez : " You 're a nice cup o' tea ! [^Coarse again, did characteristic — risic it. This 'ere is a pretty condition o' things fur your 'usban' to come in and see ! XIV. " With yer wickerwork cheers, and yer potted plants, and these 'ere little three-legged stools ! \^Inte?ise disgust here. D'yer think Fm a-goin' to set in a place as is ony fit for tom- fools ? " " Why, Bill," she says, " I should never ha' thought as you'd fly in a tearin' passion, 'Cause a kind old lady's took in her 'ed fur to do us up in the fashion ! XV. " She thought it was jest what yer wanted so, and she never meant to insult yer, For this 'ere 's luxoorious comfort, Bill, — it 's what them ' asetics ' calls Cultycr ! See, these little hoccasional tables is fur arternoon tea and chat, Or fur, when a gen'lman's calling, to put down his chimley- pot 'at. A COSTER'S COXVERSIOX. 43 XVI. " Them plates is considered ' so decora-tive,' likewise is the pots and pans, But I can't recolleck the particklcr use of the humberclla and fans." "I dcssay it's worry genteel," scz I, ''but my notion o' comfort it ain't, To live in a litter o' stuff like this 'ud aggerawate a saint ! XVII. " I fancy I sees myself fallin' about when I've taken an estry drop, And a breakin' my shins, like a bloomin' bull in a blessed chiney-shop ! I'll not 'ave none of it, Betsy," I sez— and I chucked the lot of it out, And I didn't recover my self-respeck till I see it go up the spout ! IGive this Urn tvith a manly indejyendence. XVIII. For we all on us has our feelings, Sir, and my pride it was cruel 'urt. To think as a swell could ha' gone so far as to rob a poor man of his dirt ! But I never 'anker for Culcher now, nor henvy no harristocrats. For I'm cured fur life o' the longing I 'ad fur a roomful of brick-a-bats. Of spadgers and pea-green paint you'll find in the attic 'ardly a trace, And, when me and my old woman 'as words— there's alius plenty o' space I ***** p 2 44 A COSTEirS CONVERSION. It has been urged upon the author that the true result of such an incident as this would be the instant redemption and refinement of the hero by the gentle influences of his altered sun-oundings. This is undeniable, but it is not always advisable to cany Eealism to its full lengths — our ending is unquestionably the more artistic. t HASDRUBAL JOPP. EXAMPLE No. 6. Style : The " Trans-AUmiiic Familiar.^'' No young Reciter cau consider his repertory complete unless it includes a poem in the Califoraiau dialect, and in the metre with which a great American humorist has made us so pleasantly familiar. The Compiler could hardly instruct his pupils in the prosier method of delivering any of the originals, however, without at the same time departing fi'om the system he has prescribed to himself, and — which is of more consequence — taking a literary liberty that would lack all precedent and excuse. Consequently, his only alternative was to construct a little piece in humble imitation of the poems he has alluded to, in the hope that its necessarily spurious and defective character would at least render it more adapted to elocutionary treat- ment by beginners. In spite of a seeming incongruity in the subject, it is quite possible that a young lady Reciter would make a certain sensation with this recitation, which is entitled : 46 HASDRUBAL J OFF. HASDEUBAL JOPP. The Reciter is this time supposed to he strolling along the Strand, facing the audience. The idea is that, as you come on, you are »uddenly attracted hj an advertisement home hy the last of a string of sandwkh-men. Toil stop him, and then follows the recitation. By the tray, as you are enacting an American, it may he as ivell to spealc through your nose whenever it occurs to you. That is really all the dialect ?iecessary. H'yur — you — bossing them boards ! Jess you hitch up a spell ! \_Rough good-nature exjyressed hy forefinger. Don't go twiddling your cords, \_Impatiently. Lemme look at ye well. [Genial amusement. Why, I'm derned if ye don't look as skecrcd as a turtle caught out of his shell ! II. What's the style o' yer show ? This yer pictur looks gay. Why— ye don't tell me so ! [ With a naive gratification. It 's a Murrican play ! And you mosey around with the posters — wa'al, now, do ye lind the job jMy ? EASBRUBAL JO PP. 47 III. [ With a kihdhj curiosity. Say, what wuz it — Drink As has led to it ? — stop ! Wa'al — on'y to think, Ef it isn't his shop ! This identical theerter as hires ye — Uev ye heerd on him ? — llasdrubal Jopp ! IV. So ye hcv, I declar ! Oh, it's likely the same, Which I knew him out thar, \_Indicate the United Slates hy a vague jerk of yoxir thnmh. And I reckon it's Fame, If a broken down blizzard like you (no ofiFence ! ) kin look so at his name ! \_By tlie tcord ^^so'' you should suggest a movement of pleased recognition oji the part of the sandwich-man. V. Can't ye stay for a while. Till I 've opened my head ? So he 's gone an' struck ile, Which the same 's what I said ! For I see him in " Fish outer Water," and sez I, [senten- tioiistg], " a Tragedian hred ! " VI. \_Dreumily.'] Yes, I allays allowed As he must make a hit ; 48 EASDKUBAL JOFF. And not at all proud — No, Sir — whole of him grit ! [Affectionate pride here. Jess you wait till he hears I'm around — and you '11 see the reception I git ! VII. For us two was sech chums As ye won't often find : Lord ! the way it all comes Scrougin' back to my mind ! \^Abni2)iti/. This dern sun is thet pesky an' strong, it 's enough fur to strike a man blind ! \_This is, of course, a onere pretext to conceal a 7iot immanhj emotion — ivldch is always indicated hy clraiving your rigid arm across tiie upper part of your nose. VIII. A freehandeder cuss Never stejiped on a street ; Why, he 'd raise such a fuss When we happened ter meet, As I felt he 'd be hurt in his feelins ef he warn't not allowed to stand treat ! IX. 80 he 's managed to climb Ter the top of the tree ? \_This ivitli a Jwmely disinterested gratification. HAHDRUBAL JOPP. 49 But I '11 bet every time, \_Confi(lent knderness at ** timer Big a boss as he be, He remembers his pard out at Frisco — yes, he don't forgit little ole Me ! X. [.1/ this your sandwich-man is supposed to make soms sort of assent, which jars on your emotional mood. You show this by the sudden irritation in your tone. What on airtli do you mean ? By remarkin' " you 're sure Of it " ? \_Half recognition, done hy pinchiny the chi?i and sfariny.] — seems like I 've seen Those yer featurs afore ? A mistake ? AVell, then, just hold your busses and don't interrup me no more I [This rather roughly. XI, \_Now you should recover your geniality, and j^id out two detaining finyers, as if the sandwich-man was offering to withdraw. Come, you ain't goin' yet ? H'yur, you lemme run on ; Why, we've ony jest met. And you want to l)e gone ! When I'm spilin' for want of a critter to practise chiu- music upon ! Xll. 8o there's nary a doubt As he's cock of the school. 50 HA8DRUBAL JOPP. And the stuffing's knocked out Of your Irving and Toole ! [Rapturous exultation. Jess ter think o' Jopp busting up Barrett — thar, call me a soft-hearted /oo? / \^This time you are unahle to conceal your emotmi, and should emjjloy a Jiandlcerchicf steaUhily ; the sandwich- man is equally affected — u'hich surprises you. XIII. Why, you air lookin' queer ! Derned ef / can see why. Sho ! you thought 'twas a tear As I'd got in my eye ? No, I don't take no stock in hydraulics — it's on'y a dod- gasted fly ! [^Let your voice Ireak at "y??/," with a certain rugged shame at your own weahiess, ivhich you overcome with a gesture, and resume 'proudly — XIV. He'U be chipper an' smart, But, fur all that he's riz, Jopp '11 open his heart — And a bottle of fizz — Right away when he sees me ! [Here you seem to detect a glimmer of douht in the sandwich-man's eye.'] High- toned, Sir ? you'd better believe that he is ! HASDRUBAL JO PP. 51 XV. / ain't feared o' no change ; Jopp '11 be jest as true [Pull yourself up short, and gaze glassihj lefore you into vacancy — then, in a husky whisper, Blame my cats ! but it's strange . . . [Here the recognition has come at last — you take a step hackwctrds. What in thunder ! . . he's You ! ! ! [Shout at " You ; " then crestfalleti. So ye're not on the boards, but between 'em ? . . , [Change to hasty and confused apology. . . . Excuse me, — I've suthin' to do ! [Go off hurriedly, ivith air of man ivho has just recollected an appointment. Should you do this with any dramatic force at all, yoa may reckon upon enlisting the sympathies of the audience for the severe disillusion you have suffered. THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. EXAMPLE No. 7. Style : Tlie " Sensuously Harrowhu)." Most young male Reciters cherish a secret persuasion that it has been peculiarly given to them to represent the vary- ing j)hases of the feminine temperament in a manner equally truthful and pleasing. Mindful of this characteristic of theirs, the author has endeavoured in the present example to provide conscious talent with exceptional facilities for dis- play. The young Reciter is hereby enabled to portray with all the marvellous fidelity at his command a highborn maiden in a situation of exquisite delicacy and embarrass- ment ; he can work his hearers up to a pitch of tantalised impatience, otherwise known as " the fidgets," by the art with which he prolongs and intensifies a mutual misunder- standing ; and he can leave them with aching hearts, or in smiling relief — just as his tastes incline. And for all this the Compiler makes no extra charge ; he is content to find his reward in the approving verdict of his own bosom, and the pupil is exhorted to cultivate a like philosophy, which he may not find altogether unnecessary. AVith this brief exordium, we will approach the study of our poem, which is entitled — THE WOOTNG OF THE LADY AMABEL. THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. I. In her boudoir, faintly perfumed by some sweet and subtle vapour, "With the lissome gi'ace of indolence, lies Lady Amabel ; And from time to time her taper fingers plunge within a paper, Whence they carry to her coral lips some happy caramel. 11. 'Tis a dainty well adapted to induce a sentimental Train of thought ; and soon her fancy fleets to young Sir Peveril : He is handsome, highbred, gentle \_in tone of dreamy reverif^ ; figures five express his rental ; [he ivill ! And — although he has not spoken yet — somehow, she thinks [This last line with a maidenlij archness. Do not trust too much to the ins^jiration of the moment for this exj}res- sion, which you will do well to rehearse carefully before a mirror — it is not hy any means an easy effect — eveji for a male Reciter, ITI. Xow she drops in charming girlish guilt the last romance from Mudie's — For Sir Peveril has entered ! all his goodly face aglow With reluctance to intrude, he's quite aware his. conduct rude is — \_de trop ! But the Countess has assured him that he will not be 54 THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. IV. She whose mien would grace Princesses, now embodied awkwardness is ! , [ With concerned wonder. And conceals, as might a village-maid, the blush she cannot quell ; For his object here she guesses, but — although her answer " Yes " is— \_l7i a confidential aside~\ Like a limed bird her fluttering tongue is clogged with caramel ! V. \^Pause ; light narrative toiie.'] After many a lame apology for cutting short her reading, Young Sir Peveril has summoned up his courage to begin. And his passion now is pleading. From his tone of inter- ceding It is evident he fears her hand is difficult to win ! \_Air of dainty amusement at this uncalled-for diffidence. VI. So he all his eloquence employs — his eyes with ardour glisten, Quite unconscious he's besieging a surrendered citadel ! \_Confidential aside again. But she cannot tell him this, unhappily, she can but listen, \^Here indicate subdued facial contortion. Making frantic furtive efforts to absorb her caramel ! "o VII. [_In deeper tones of manly ^^cission.'] " Nay, deem not that my burning words a boy's extravagance are, For I love you with a passion that my tongue would fail to tell ! [Place hand on left hr east-pocket. THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. 55 Do I not deserve an answer ? " [Bapid change to the con- fidential aside.^ llow his rhapsodies entrance her ! [^Wifh regret.^ But the pearly portals of her speech are barred by caramel. VIII. ISir P. 2cith growing anxiety.'] " Have I been but over-confident ; and can I be distasteful To the one whose guide and stay through life I thought to have become ? \_Desperately.'] Then in pity let me Icnoiv it!" [Pause; then sadly.'] But with too cohesive paste full Is her dewy mouth ; and so, perforce, fair Amabel is dumb ! IX. " Is it time you need ? " he falters, with humility pathetic, " Never fear that I by sudden scare your judgment would compel ! " [Business here.] She makes efforts energetic to resolve the seal hermetic Of involuntary silence — but 'tis set in caramel ! X. [Sir P. again, rqyroachfulJy.] " There tvas a time when graciously for me you my cigar lit, iVnd would linger near me while I smoked, and vow you loved the smell ! "Were you but trifling with me then ? — [ivith pained con- viction] — or why that sudden scarlet ? " [Aside.] But she's flushing with vexation at her stubborn caramel. 56 THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. XI. [With a grieved dignUij.'\ " From your silence now I must infer you've acted in- sincerely, Ah ! your little feet a bleeding heart have trampled in the dust — For I loved you [hroJcen accents'] very dearly ; but at last I see, too clearly, That I've centred all my hopes on one unworthy of my trust ! XII. " Can you no word of answer deign — encouraging or chilling ? Triple fool is he who seeks to touch the heart of a coquette ! iBitferly. Since you're obviously unwilling, I "... . [tvith reviving hojM] " but, stay — your eyes are filling ! Only whisper one shy syllable in sign you love me yet ! " [With tender invitation. XIII. [ Tragic Recitative.'] And she's writhing in her anguish, with a dreary wonder whether She is under the benumbing blight of some enchanter's spell ; For a link of honeyed leather locks her dainty lips together, And the pent emotion cannot pass that gag of caramel ! THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. 57 XIV. Then Sir Pevoril, with au agouy he vainly seeks to smother, Says : " Your silence I interpret now ! You are no longer free ! [Here nod your head with a dismal sagacity. But arc plighted to Another, and regard me ' as a brother,' — Which I can't pretend to care about — is there no hope for me ? [Stoop forward, with /winds extended, j)atr/is u^ncard in supplication. XV. [Aftei' remaining in this attitude a.s long as you think proper, draw yourself np in haughty surprise. "Still this silence? Then I leave you. Though you care not to be my mate. Though you do not hold me worth the boon of e'en a brief good bye, Should the cannibals some time eat me in Afric's sultry climate, I may earn a posthumous regard entombed within a pie ! " [Bitter emplmsis on "posthumous'^ of a man who despairs of ever being appreciated in life. XVI. Thus he leaves her : down the comdor his heavy footstep echoes, "While his parting words are ringing in her singing ears a knell. And 'tis hers to feel for evermore — her life its dismal wreck owes To immoderate indulgence in the tempting caramel ! E 58 THE WOOING OF THE LADY AMABEL. This is the legitimate and only really artistic finale But if experience teaches you that your recitation of these stanzas throws too heavy a gloom upon your audience, or damps them beyond their powers of recuperation, you may substitute the following stanza for the one immediately above : — xvra. Then the caramel relents at last ! — You find the phrase fantastic ? But it melts (although from motives unintentionally kind), And she manages to masticate the morsel so elastic, As she murmurs : " Though I've been so dumb — need you have been so blind ? " \_Rainl)Oiv effect of smiles through tears. Bring in all your maide7ily archness for the concludijig line, and you may he asked to recite something else. THE WEECK OF THE STEAM- SHIP "PUFFIN." EXAJMPLE No. 8. Style : The " JIarine Emotioiml." Nautical Recitations are always deservedly popular, aud no young Reciter can consider his training- complete until he has learnt to deliver a piece of this kind with a due eye to effect. For reasons which have been explained earlier, the Compiler cannot consistently with his aims select an example which is already famous, and so he has done his best to con- struct one for himself upon the lines of a poem, perhaps the most stirring and celebrated of them all. He has called it : THE WEECK OF THE STEAMSHIP a PUFFIN." I. Tell you a story, children ? Well, gather ruuud my knee, And I'll see if I cannot thrill you (though you're torpid after your tea), With a moving tale of a shipwi'eck ; and — should you refrain from sleep, For the cake was a trifle heavy — I flatter myself you'll weep I \_This icith modest confidence. £ 2 60 WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP " FUFFIN." II. You all know Kensington Gardens, and some of you, I'll be bound, [Pleasantly conversational. Have stood by the level margin of the Pond that's entitled " Round " ; 'Tis a pleasant spot on a summer day, when the air is laden with balm, [Here iyihale with intense appreciation. And the snowy sails are reflected clear in a mirror of flaw- less calm ! III. \_Noiv shut off all your sunlight, and pile up the shadows ; try to awaken interest, awe, foreboding . Well, it isn't like that in the winter, [very seriously here"] when the gardens are shut at fom-. And a wind is lashing the water, and driving the ducks ashore. [Divell on your ducks. Ah I the Pond can be black and cruel then, with its waves running inches high. And a peril lurks for the tautest yacht that pocket-money can buy ! IV. Yet, [hinted condemnation here'] in weather like this, with a howling blast and a sky of ominous gloom, Did the good ship " Puflfin " put out to sea, as if trying to tempt her doom ! [Explanatory aside.] She was a model steamer, on the latest approved design, And her powerful 10-slug engines were di'iven by spirits of wine. WRECK OF THE STEAMSIfTP ' PUFFIN." fil V. And a smarter crew (tliey were sixpence each !) never shipped on a model bark, While her Captain, " Nuremberg Noah," had once com- manded an ark ; Like a fine old salt of the olden school, he had stuck to his wooden ship. But lately, he'd been promoted — and this was his trial trip. [Tender sympathetic stress on" trial" and " tri}),'' ivhich are imjjortant ivords. VI. Off went the "Puffin" when steam was up, with her crew and commander brave ! [Heartily. And her screw was whizzing behind her as she breasted the foaming wave ; Danger ? each sixpenny seaman smiled at the notion of that ! [Smile here tvith the vapid placidity of a si.rpenny sailor. [Cloud yonr hroivs suddenhj.] But the face of the skipper looked thoughtful from under his 1)roafl-lirimmed hat. VII. Was he thinking then of his children three — of Japheth, aud Ham, and Shem ? Or his elephants (both with a trunk unglued !), was he sad at the thought of them ? Or the door at the end of his own old ark — did it give him a passing pain To reflect that its unreal knocker might never deceive him again ? [You should deliver all these queries with intense feeling 1'nadulterated by any vulgar curiosity. 62 WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP -'PUFFIN." VIII. [Very solemn here.^ Nay, children, I cannot answer — he had passed inquiry beyond : He was far away on the billowy waste of the wild and heaving Pond, [^Tou should throiv a ivailing inflection into this last line. Battling hard with the angry crests of the waves, that were rolling in And seeking to overwhelm and swamp his staggering vessel of tin ! IX. \_For next stanza, change attitude and hole off right, shadmg your eyes — as if you saw a vessel in difficulties out beyond the grand piano.'] Suddenly, speed she slackened, and seemed of her task to tire . . , Aye ! for the seas she had shipped of late had extinguished her engine fire ! . And the park-keeper, watching her, shook his head and in manner unfeeling cried : " 'Twill be nothing short of a miracle now if she makes th opposite side ! " X. Think of it, children — that tiny ship, tossed in the boiling froth, Drifting about at the wild caprice of the elements' fitful wrath ! Her screw-propeller was useless now that the flickering flame was out, And the invalids gazed from their snug bath-chairs, til they almost forgot the gout. WRECK OF TEE STEAMSHIP ''PUFFIN:' 63 XI. [ Wilder attitude ; voice raised to a moderate shrielc. Help for the gallant vessel ! she is overborne by the blast ! [Hotd on desperately to a chair. She is shipping water by spoonfuls now, I tell you she's sinking fast ! " Hi ! " cried one of her owners to a spaniel, liver and black, " Good dog, into the water quick ! " \_Ctap your hands encouroijiyigly, then, in acce?its of the deepest disyust, .... But the park-keeper \_ pause'] held it back ! XII. Yes, spite of indignant pleadings from the eager excited crowd, He quoted a pedant bye-law : " In the water no dogs allowed. " Then shame on the regulations that would hinder an honest dog From plunging in to assist a ship that is rolling a helpless log ! \_This with a nolle scorn. XIII. Stand by all ! for she'll ride it out — though she's left to do it alone. She was drifting in, she was close at hand — when \_Lufju- iriously'] down she went like a stone I A few feet more and they had her safe — and now, it was all too late, For the " Puffin " had foundered in sight of port, by a stroke of ironical Fate ! IShaJce your head with impressive mournfulness here, loth audience and speaker should now remain silent for a few moments in the purest sympathy — then yo on more cheerfully. G4 WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP "PUFFIN." XIV. But the other owner was standing by, and, tossing her tangled locks, Down she sat on the nearest seat — and took off her shoes and socks ! [7%e words " shoes and socles^' are cajyadle of ijifinife pathos.'] " One kiss, brother ! " she murmured, " one clutch of your strong right hand — And III paddle out to the ' Puffm,' and bring her in safe to land ! " [4 grand heroic lurst, as you announce this splendid determination.'] XV. What can a l^arefooted child do ? More than the pampered cur, AVith his chicken-fed carcase shrinking, afraid from the bank to stir ! More than a baffled spaniel — aye, and more than the pug- dog pet. That wrinkles his ebony muzzle, and whines if his paws are wet ! [Even a very ordinary elocutionist should worJc his audience up to the point of hissing here ; pronounce the ivords " laffled spaniel " indulgently, hit brand the " cur " and "-jnig-dog " tvith your most scathing contempt.'] XVI. " Come back ! " the park-keeper shouted— but she merely answered, " I won't ! " And into the water she waded — though the invalids whim- pered, " Don't ! " WRECK OF THE STKAM^IIIf ■ I'UFFIX." fio Ah ! but the Pond struck chilly, and the mud at the bottom was thick ; [At the word " Ah/ " draw up one leg slightly. But in she paddled, and probed it with the point of a borrowed stick ! XVII. "Don't let go of mo, darhng ! " \_Colloquial — hut true to nature.'] " Keep hold of my fingers tight, And I'll have it out in a minute or two ... I haven't got up to it quite : A minute more, and the sunken ship we'll safe to the surface bring, [Here look upivards^, your whole face softened and en- nobled by devoted courage, then relax into a smile of rapture.'] Yes, and the sixpenny sailors, too. that we lashed to the funnel with string ! " XVIII. Up to the knees in the water, \_this with deep commiseration] Ethel and brother Ralph Groped, till ihey found the " Puffin " and her sailors, soppy — but safe ! [Let the last two words ring out like tnimpei-notes. All the dear little sailors ! [Check yourself, and assume a serious agitation'] . . . but — [gulp.] Children — I can't go on ! For poor old wooden-faced Noah was — houj shall I tell you ? [a short choke'] — gone ! 06 WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP ''PUFFIN." XIX. [With intense solenmity.'] He must have fallen over, out of that heeling boat, Away in the dim grey offing, to rise and to fall like a float. Till the colour deserted his face and form, as it might at an infant's suck, And he sank to his rest in his sailor's tomb — the maw of a hungry duck ! \_Here you alJoiv your voice to die away in a reverent whisjjcr, and then, after a slight pause, to let your audience perceive the moisture in your eyes, continue in a gentle voice. XX. You are weeping ? I cannot wonder. Mine is a pathetic style. Weep for him, children, freely . . . \_Noiv with a gradual transition from tears to triumph.'] But, when you have finished, smile With joy for his shipmates, rescued as though by a Pros- pero's wand. And the " Puffin," snatched from the slimy depths of the Eound but treacherous Pond ! \_Circular sweep of your right arm as you finish, and, unless ive are much mistaken, you tvillfind ap)opular audience respond in a irag you ivill o'ememher all your days. MICHxVELMAS DAY. EXAMPLE No. 9. Style : — The "■Bucolic Buttonlioldbujy Another essential part of every Drawing-room Reciter's education is the acquirement of the art of rendering a poem in dialect. There are several of these in existence already, but, true to his system, tlie C^ompiler ventures to offer one of his own manufacture. It is couched, as will be seen, in the well-known vernacular of Loompshire, Loorapshire being the county where nearly all the stage rustics come from. The little piece is rich in local idioms and provincialisms, which a philologist will find worthy of careful study, espe- cially as the author can guarantee the majority of them as being invented and constructed by himself. , It is not a l)ad plan to oil the jaw with a little vaseline before attacking this recitation, which has a good old- fashioned double title, viz. : — MICHAEL:\rAS DAY: Ok, now TAMMAS PATTLE VERY XEAELY COOKED Ills GOOSE. \^You should give a brief summarjj of tlie situation, this: — '' This is supposed to he spoken hy a Loompshire cotta/jer to a stranger, who has remarked vpon the 68 MICHAELMAS DAY. goodly proportions of the goose in his front garden.'''' Then start with as broad a draivl as you can assume, rememlering always that, in dicilect, to he unintelligible is to be effective. " Bewty," I 'ears ya carl her ? aye, ya niver spooke truth- fuller wurred ! Rammack t' coon try side ovver, an' ya weant see naw foiner burred ! Passon, he axed ma to sell her — but a' towld him, " Beant o' naw use, — She's as mooch of a Chris'en as moast," I sez, " if she's nobbut a guse ! " [Touch of sarcasm here. Coom then I \_T!us coaxvngly to a hypothetical bird — be careful not to make any invidious distinctions among your audience.'] Naay, but she wunna — she's gotten a wull of her oan I Loocik at the heye of her, — pink an' greey, loike fire in a hopal stoiin. Howsiver she seems sa hinnercent-loike, she's a follerin arl I saay ; An' I boiirt 'er at Kettleby Fear, I did, two year coom Cann'lemas Daily. Araminta her neam is — but I carls her "Minty" fur shoart ; She weant naw moor nor a goslin', o' coorse, what toime she wur boart. But a' knawed she'd turn oot a rare 'un. to jedge by her weeight an feiil, An' I reckoned to fat her by ^Micliaelmas Eve, ef I boozled her oop wi meal. MICHAELMAS DAY. 69 Mayhappen ya'U 'ardly beleave ma — but she unnerstood from the fust What was hexpected of her — livilh a senile chuckle'} I thowt that burr'd 'ud ha bust ! Cram her, a' did I but she swuckered it doon wi niver a weasted drop — Fur slie tuk that hinterest in it as she'd ruther ha' choaked nor stop ! An' she'd foller wheeriver a' went — till I hedn't naw peace fur t' foak, " 'Ere be Tammas along of his sweetart ! " wui* hallus the village joak : But I'd saily — " 'Tes ma Michaelmas denner I*m squiriu' aboot, owd chap ! " An' Minty she'd stan up a' tiptoe an' fluther her neck, an' flap ! Did I'appen to gaw of a hevenin' to loook at ma hinion patch, Minty 'ud coom in along o' mea, an' rarstle aboot, an' scratch, A' cocking her heye at the bed o' saage, wi a kink, sa mooch as to saay ; " Wull the sailge an' th' hinions be ready fur mea, by toime I be ready fur theey ? " Or she'd snifter at arl the windfalls as ligged i' th' horchai'd graiis ; / knawed what she wur erfter, a' did — she wur pickin' 'em oot fm* the saiiss ! 70 MICHAELMAS DAY. Till I'd roob ma 'ands fur to see her a' ploddlin' across the roiird, [With a tender pride.'] " Thee'll mak a denner, ma pratty," I'd saiiy to her, " fit fur a loard ! " Maain an' boolky she wur as Michaelmas week coom nigh : " Her '11 niver not bulge naw bigger," I thowt, "■ an' she art fur to die ! " I knaw'd she'd be doitlin somewheer on the pasture under t' mooor, Sa I fetched t' chopper an' fettled 'im oop — \_grimly'] an' I went fur to do her ! Then I chillupped to Araminty, an' oop she rins wi' a clack ; "Seea what I've gotten to show 'ee," I sez, (wi' the chopper behind ma back,) But I booked sa straange an' callow, she knawed I wur meanin' 'er ill. An' she kep a' sidlin' an' hedgin' awaiiy, an' a gaiipin' wi hopen bill ! Then I maiide a grab at 'er sooden — [business here'] — but she skirtled oflP to a feald, Wheer Squire had been diggin fur fireclay, eh ! but she yellocked an' healed. Cloppity-joggle I chaiised her, sa well as I cud, bein' lailme. An' flippity-flopper she kep on ahead an' a squawked out, " Shaame ! " [_An amateur Reciter should find it easy here to suggest something of the j^eculiar intonation of a frightened goose. Interval ; then continue cwologeticcdlg. MICHAELMAS VAY. 71 I wur liaiif ashciimed o' myseu' I wur, afoor I cjoom to the hend; [ With remorse.^ " Ya owd ongreiitful guzzard," I thowt, " to gaw killiii' ya hoiinly friend ! " But ma friend wur a Michaelmas denner as I hedn't naw 'art to refuse. [With mare remorse.'] An' it maade me seea what a gowk I'd beeiin to ha' gotten sa thick with a guse ! Sa I danged her well as I slummocked on, as 'ard as ma legs 'ud stoomp : " Waiiit till I gets tha, ma laiidy ! " I scz — when arl on a sooden .... Boomp ! An' I wur a' sprawliu an' floppin in wan of the owd Squire's pits, AVheer — but fur t' daily at the bottom an' that — I mout ha' bin brokken to bits ! An' I roared fur 'elp — fur I cudn't git oot, an' th' watter wur oop to ma chin. But nobbody 'eerd ma a' bealin', nor thowt on the 'ole I wur in! An' a knawed as they'd niver foind nawthin' but boans — if they'd iver the goomption to dredge, Then I groilned — [Lower voice, impressively'] fur T eerd Araminty, a' touklin oop at the edge ! [With a grim sullemiess.] " Wunnerful funny, beilnt it ? " I sez, (I wur feiihn fit for to clioiik To be catched loike a bee in a bottle — an' see her eujyiug the joak !) 72 MICHAELMAS DAY. [^Indignant reproach.'] " Hevn't ye naw moor manners," I sez, "■ ya great fat himperdent thing ? " \_Pathetically.'] Fur I'd bred her oop from a gosling, I had, — an' theer wur the sting ! Well, she left ma aloan at laast, an' I hedn't a mossel o' hoape, When — by coom Harry th' hedger, an' a hoicked ma oop with a roape ; " Shudn't ha' heerd 'ee, Tammas," he sez, "or knawed as owt wur t' matte]', Ef it hedn't ha bin fur yon guse o' thine — but she coom an raaised sech a clatter, As drawed ma hon in spite o' mysen, till I nioinded the hopen shaaft." \_Let your voice grow tremulous with emotion here. Aye, Minty wui" saiivin' ma life oop theer — when I wur a' thinkin' she laiift ! [Pause — after which resume itnpulsively, Then I rooshed fur to catch her to coodle, and gie her a greatful kiss . , . [Look round with a helpless cxjjression of pained surprise. Eh ! but I raight down bloobered — fur she scatted awaay wi' a hiss ! " Weant niver 'urt 'ee agean," sez I, " if thee'll hoanly forgit what's past ! " She wur maain and stiff fui- a spell, she wur, but — [ivith a smile of ineffable satisfaction'] I maadc her coom round at last ! MICHAELMAS DAY. 73 An' I had ma Michaelmas dcnner the sajime, an' Idvere fur two was laiiid, Thcer was no wan but me an Minty — an' a arty good denner we maiiid ! \^Pause, then as if in answer to an inquiry. Wliat did we maake our meal on ? [with a shamefaced air.'\ "Well, happen theeMl think ma a hailss — But I'll tell 'ee ; [deliberately^ I dined wi' i\[inty on th' stooffin' an' happle saiiss ! At the conclusion you should retire with as little parade as possible, and ask your way to the nearest surgeon's — as your jaw will probably require setting. THE EECEEANT EECLAIMED. EXAMPLE No. 10. Style : — The " Teulonic-Imagi'nafivey It is one of the most pleasing characteristics of the average Amateur Elocutionist that — although he may have but a shadowy acquaintance with all other languages than his own — he never sutlers that circumstance to deter him from impersonating a foreigner of any given nationality at a moment's notice. So that no apology need be made for the following recitation, in which the most backward pupil will be sure to feel himself at home — and in that respect provoke the undisguised envy of his audience. The poem is somewhat long, perhaps, but you only require two qualifications to prevent it from becoming insuiferably tedious — a guttural accent, and a touch of genius. The former you can assume at will, and you would not be a young Reciter at all were you not proudly conscious of possessing the latter already. The title is : THE EECEEANT EECLAIMED. [ Whkk yuu will of course pronounce us " Ze lieggreant licyla/jjied."^ I deach my dong in Engelandt zis dventy year aud more, And vonce 1 dvell at Vigmore Shtreet, ubon ze zegoud vloor ; THE RECREANT RECLAIMED. 75 Bot zat has nodings hier to zay, zo blcase — if yuu'll addend, [Dictator ialli/. I'll dell you of zom gurious dings vat habbened — mit a vriend. He vas a hauzom-headed man (zo like me as a bea), And eferyvcre I valk apout he gom along mit me ; Bot all ze efening, beaceful-quiet, he shtay indoors and shmoke, And ven he vant to pe amused — he make himzelf a yoke ! Bot yokes did not goutent him loug, he treamed, instead, of lof ; And bassed ze dime \ith gissing at a leedle vemale glof ; He dink ubon two shpargling eyes, von deligate gock-nose — Dill zoon his dinkings vork him op mit gourage to brobose I Zen, ach ! she dilt her nose yet more, and gruel vorts she shpoke : " I vill not dwine aroundt no heart vat shmells zo shtron"- mit schmoke I Vor you yourself it might not pe imbossible to gare — Bot mit no ogly bipe vill I my Mann's aveotiou share ! " [Here you slwidd j lance at your aiuUence with a slightly hurt exj}ression. I dink I hear zom laty make a symbathetic shniff ? You Englisch schendlevomens dreat a schmoker moch too shtiff ! Ya zo ! meinzelf, I schmoke a bipe mit baintiugs on ze bowl, 1 use for him your sheep-tabak vat's dwisted in a roll. F 2 76 TMiJ RECREANT RECLAIMED. It is a goot and bure tabak — zey gcmnot make it veak. Shtill, veil I schmoke inside a drain — I vinds ze laties seeck ! [ You should mention this instance of insular intoleratice with a mild surprise. Bot zere, you makes me chadderbox, and dake op all ze dime ! I vant to dell you how mein vricnd behafe himzelt sooblime. " If you vill pe mein Braut," he zaid, " tobaggo I'll renounce ! I schvear I'll nefer puy no more von zolidary ounce ! " And she gif him out her lily hand, and shmile at him zo shveet ; " Py sodge a sagrifice," she zay, " you brove your 161" indeet ! " " I vill dake you, on your solemn vort mit schmoking to get rid, Pe off and purn your bipes and dings ! " vich — boor yong man — he did ! Dree sblendid bipes he sacrificed, in china, glay, and vood ; And vatched zem craggle in ze vlames — I vonder how he could I Vile mit zem vent his brime cigars of pest Havana prandt, Imborted shtraight M'om Hampurg — in his own dear Vader- landt ! [Sentimentally. Henzefort he lif a schmokeless life vor vear to lose his bride, And nefer vonce gomblaimed to her of sofferiugs inzide ! Bot, unter all his egstasies and rabdures ven zey met, Zomdimes he vish she vouldn't mind — von leedle zigarette ! . . • [Pause. THE RECREANT RECLAIMED. 77 He sat alone ze night pefore his vcdding vas to pe, And dried do gahn his joniping zoul mit b(»ndering and tea — Ven zoddcnly — he hear a zound, as if zom barty knock, Vich gom vrom his tobaggo-jar, long embdied of its shtock : " Gom in ! I mean goni oul ! " he cried (he vas a viddy chap !) For none of your nocdurnal knocks I do not gare von rap ! " [^Here you should he convulsed with inward laughter. But, at his yoke, ze lid fly off — and sblash into his cop ! \_Siart and stare. And a kind of leedle voman's form inzide ze jar sbring op ; Her face was yust ze golour of a meerschaum nod quide new, And her hair vas all in ribbline: vavcs — like long -cut honnydew ! [Bring out the poefrg of this description. In gold and silber she vas roped, all shpangled o'er mit shtars, As if she hat hor gostume made mit bapers round zigars, And like an eel his bagbone squirmed — his hair stood all erect — (For beoplcs in tobaggo-jars is dings you don't exbect). " Bervidious von ! " she shpeak at him, zo broud as any queen, " Pehold your homage-objects vonce — ze Goddess Nigodeen ! I galls to ask zo reason vy you leafs my aldars cold. And nefer purns me incense, vich your bractice vas of old ? " THE RECREANT RECLAIMED. "■ To bay you more respects, I must," he plurted out, " degline — - I'm vorshibing at breseut at an olibosition shrine ! " "And vill you make yourself," she gries, "a dankless renegade To von who, oftendimes ipvoked, shtill nefer vailed her aid. " To charm avay your lonely dimes, and soffogate your gare ? If zat's your leedle game, mein \Tiend, dake my advice — bevare ! " " I'd gladly zeat my zoul ubon your himmel-dinted gloud, Bot, as a Penedick," he said, " I vill not pe allowed. " I do gonfess " (I haf exblained he vas a vonny vellow !) " Mitout a bipe, mein honnymoon vill not daste quide zo mellow ! " " Enoff ! " she zaid, " you vatch your eye — and zee vat vill bekom ! " She bopped inzide — and left ze jar so embdy as a drom ! He sit and vipe his sbegdacles, and shtare, and rob his head At vinding it zo vanciful — and zoon he vent to ped. •X- * * * Veil, next day, on zc afdernoon his honnymoon pegan — And Dandalus vas nodings to zat boor dormented man ! For ven he dry to giss his vife ubon her lips zo ripe, Petween his own brojected out von pig soobyectif bipe ! Yes, efer more, in sbite of all ze dender vorts he'd zay, Ze sbegtral vigure of a bipe kept gedding in ze vay ; Ondill ubon ze burple sky shone fort ze efening shtar — Yereon ze bipe dransformed himzelf, and change to a zigar ! TJff'J RECREANT RECLAIMED. 70 And, vorst of all, his vife exbressed no bity for his fate ; She j^alled it all a homboffsdrick — and zo zev sebarate. Zen benidently he rcdurned and gried to Nigodeen : " Forgif — and nefer more I'll pe ze vool I vonce haf peen ! 1 16fed my vife — bot all ze dime I gared for you ze most, T'ni (lired of schmoking dings vat is no pedder as a ghost ! " Zo Xigodeen she dakes him pack, begause his nfe vas gone — [ Wifh a touch of slyness.~\ And now ze bipe he schmokes is nod an immaterial von. » ♦ * * You toubt my vort ? yon dink I lie ? Brebare yourzelves to jomp— I vas zat yong boor man meinzelf — der ITerr Brofessor Bomp ! A FOEEGONE VENGEANCE! EXAMPLE No. 11. Style : The " Trmmphant-Tragwy So.ME have remarked that the youncij Reciter is seldom happy in his delivery of blank verse. To which others have replied that he does not deserve to be. But the persevering Student may be advised to ignore these unmannerly and ill- natured gibes, and to give his most careful attention to the intensely dramatic soliloquy he will find under this heading, after which no blank verse will ever present difficulty to him again. We call it : A FOEEGONE VENGEANCE! \_To rmd^ this recitntmi completely effective, it is essential that you shonld provide yourself vith an ordinary Windsor cJiair, and a long jvint peignoir, or urapper. Place your chair well to the right, and then come on from the 0. P. {that is, the same side) crouching and loo1ci7ig off left icith an air of tigerish anticipation. Now begin.'] 'Tis he ! Can I mistake the clustered curls Upon that hated hyacinthine head ? Did they not wile from me the fickle heart A FOREGONE VENGEANCE! 81 Of perjured Bandolina ? [/)? a hisfting vnirp. [Affect to he cautiondu ot/servi/itj.^ . . . There he stands : Before my window, where yon winsome form, Rotating slow in measured self-display, Attracts his errant eye . . . [Here extend arms in passionate invocation.'] Now, demi- siren. Look languor at him from pellucid orbs, Wreathe waxen arms, and lure him in — to Me ! So, once again ! ... he wavers ... he is mine ! \_Savage exiiMatio7i,wMch is usually performed with the eye- brows.] Let me be calm. [Self-restraint, indicated by violent heaving of shirt-front.] Good morning. Sir, to you. I pray you [ivith a forced and ghasthj smile] step within, and seat yourself — T will attend erelong. [Hold open imaginary aoor, and close it stealthily before yon resume.] My bird is trapped — And knows me not ! [With daric suspicion, which you can easily convey by lialf closing your eyes, and pressing the hiuclcle of your bent forefinger against lower lip.] Unless T be deceived. No hazard freak of hooded Fortune's urn, [A nasty line for the " h "-less. But Bandolina's dainty insolence Dispatched him hither. Ha ! the victim calls ; I come anon. Sir ! [FawninyJy, and accompanied by a glance of withering hate levelled full at your unconscious chair.] Patience, peevish worm, Why thus anticipate the time to writhe ? [This in a fierce aside 82 A FOREGONE VENGEANCE! [No/v draw the cliair foricard ivith an exaggeraied defei'ence, wider ichich shovM hirJc a svMved ferocity. Spealc the following lines smoothly and trippingly, accompany- ing them with such hy-play as may suggest itself to yov. I crave your pardon for my tardiness ; Suffer me to dispose these lendings — thus. [^Here take the ivrapper, and shahe it out. This hand above the elbows — tighter — so. Nay, Sir, 1 do protest this is no gag ! {^Spread your hands here. 'Tis but a poor contrivance of mine own To shield the mouth against encroaching suds. Eefreshing, Sir, indeed, this change of weather. And seasonable for the time of year. The birds, I understand, are passing shy. You are a sportsman, so I take it. Sir ? And, though I may not boast myself a Nimrod, I am no stranger to the keen delight Of one who views some flutterer in his snare. [A double meaning to this. But one more knot — and now . . . \_JIere you stride to a position in front of the chair, ivhich you survey with folded arms, and the smile of a moclcing fend.] My fcigning's done ! Writhe as you will, I have you at my mercy. Baldwin McAssir, we have met at last I [In a terrible voice. You know me not ? Regard me, — [strike a good firm atti- tude h&re.'] I am He Bereft ])y you of Bandolina's love ! Aha ! I see yon quail at last — at last ! [Nod violently several times. A FOREGOXE VENGEANCE ! «3 Yet fear not I slioukl stoop to seek your life — My venji^eanco shall be sated on your hair. By that alone have you supplanted me, And that I doom to perish past recall ! [Here you 2^omf towards the ceiling ivifh rold sinister determination. Cast up your eyes to yonder whirling wheel : Then — mark this brush ; 'tis set with bristling wires, And frivollers term it my " Cheveux de JYizz," — No matter, these revolving teeth shall rake The curls that Baudolina oft caressed — But shall again — no more ! You like the prospect ? Then, hear me further : T have fluids here, Elixirs for evolving latent hair. With others christened (in some franker mood) " Depilatory Agents " — scarce less potent. Upon your lielpless head I'll pour them all ! \_Arm raised in wild menace. Nay, though you smile defiance through your gag, I swear to lay that haughty crest so low That never may it soar in pride again ! A truce to words — to action I . . . . Still that smile. So bitter, yet so calm — it maddens me ! I'll stay my hand no longer .... \_Viole7it 'plunge with right arm — after vhirh you recoil from the chair with a stagger, gazing agJuist at some object you are supposed to he holding in your outstretched hand.'] Juggling fiend I "Was this the secret of your dauntless port. And could my practised eye be so deceived ? Oh, this is gall and bitterness indeed I [Here you cover your eyes for a moment, and then return to the chair with a resignation full of gloomy dignity. 84 A FOREGONE VENGEANCE! Yet-, seeing I am thus forestalled by Fate, I do renounce my jiurpose — since I must. [ With bitter scorn.] Take back your wig, McAssir, go in peace ! Nay more, in token that my heart is changed, I'll coax it into comeliness anew. [^Business here. Permit me to unbind you ; you are free. And owe me but a trifle — eighteenpence ; Pay at the counter as you pass, I beg ; [Gesture of haughty refusal. There are no toilet requisites you need ? [ With chilling cqwrtesy. Farewell, then — you have nothing more to fear. {Here you tvatch your rival's exit with a fixed scoivl. Thus ends my vengeance, as an idle dream, Yet, no, 'tis but deferred ^ith interest. [You conclude with a hiting apostrophe to your intended mctim. Back to your Bandolina, plumaged daw ! Be bald, but resolute in your deceit. And lot her learn upon her honeymoon How you have drawai — without a single haii*. Then I shall be avenged ! ha-ha ! avenged ! [Stalk off moodily — and let somebody else remove the chair. A PKOPOS DE BOTTES. EXAMPLE No. 12. Style : The " Voluptuoushj Melancholic.'''' The Compiler will make no apology for the present example, although he does not deny that it offers greater difficulties than any of its predecessors. This is a pro- gressive series, and it may be safely assumed that a pupil who has diligently and faithfully mastered the previous exercises is well qualified to delineate the very subtlest forms of emotion. He should look upon these recitations as so many jingling fetters, designed to fiirther, whilst they appear to restrain, his elocutionaiy ability, to the gradual increase of which he must expect to find the burden delicately accommodated. Here the note throughout is a vague and sensuous melancholy, dominated by the impend- ing and slowly advancing shadow of disaster, with a suggestion, as the piece proceeds, of mysticism and di-ead fatality. To convey all this, iu evening dress and in an ordinary drawing-room, would be well-nigh impossible without previous study ; but, thanks to the monitions of our manual and to your own industry, you should now be able to recite this piece, as the police-court phrase is, " on your head," — though a less unconventional attitude is recom- memk'd. In opening, allow yourself to drift dreamily into pusition, with your head inclined slightly towards the left ; 86 A FliOPOS DE BOTTEiS. let your prcvailiug tune be melodious, eveu to excess — a low cooing delivery will be very effective in places. Take every stanza very slowly. The title, which you may announce \\ith a sad smile, is A PEOPOS DE BOTTES. In a bow-window on the Esplanade, Belinda with her Bertram breakfasted ; But, while with outward calm his tea she made, Within was all uncertainty and dread. What though the toast was crisp, the eggs new laid ? When, in its envelope of sullen red, The missive that constrained her heart to flutter Lay — still unopened — by the bread and butter ! [This will arouse your audiences interest ; alloiv time for this, tfien 23roceed with deeper ifitensitt/. Fleet is pursuing Fate — when most slie limps ! 80 Bertram, having put away his ham, Upon his letters cast a careless glimpse, Selecting first the ruthless telegram, That tore him from felicity and shrimps : He muttered words that sounded like " My lamb ! " The A\'liile he in despair the carpet stamped on, "My own," he cried, " I must leave Littlehampton ! " [This with a coiqjle of traffic nods. [Now turn your head slowly round to right and hack again, in a gaze of petrified desjpair ; to get this effect, concen- trate your thoughts ok. some 'i)erfectly a)mmon-place subject, such as boiled rice ; press your hcmds to side, as if in pain. A riiuruti DL BUTTED. 87 Her face she turned, all pitcously drawu, And gazed upon him appreheiisively, "With eyes dilated, like some startled fawn ; One crystal tear fell flashing in her tea, Nor heeded she the appetising prawn. Nor amber marmalade from far Dmidee. \_Leave off thinlcing of boiled rice here. " Bertram ! " she gasped, " leave me not thus — in pity! They cannot really want you in the City ! " \_Throiv acute lUspair into this. You might clasp your hands in frantic entreaty, if they are not liable to become red tinder the influence of emotion — a tendency calculated, for some reason, to check sympathy. But he : " Alack, that I must answer ' Yes ' 1 "Who could foretell the dream would end so soon. Or that the envious rack of business AVould drift athwart our radiant honeymoon ? — Yet I must catch the ten o'clock express, "Which gets me up to London Bridge by noon ! Nay, sweetest one, give not the reins to sorrow — I shall be back ere dinner-time to-morrow ! " [^This with a fictitious cheerfulness. This hearing, she forbore to make a fuss, And sought by packing her despair to di'ug ; Then, seated in the Hotel omnibus, "With dainty hands she strapped his railway rug — Till, at the Littlehampton terminus, They parted — with one last hysteric hug : 88 A PROPOS DE BOTTES. And he, iu masculine emotion choking, Entered a first-class carriage labelled " Smoking." \_Nmv cast doivn your eyes, and resume in tone of chastenea melanclioly. Now, feehng that her well of joy is dried, Her lotus-tree down-withered to the roots, Back to her lonely lodgings she has hied, Where a sweet pang through all her being shoots, — For, basking on the hearth-rug, side by side, \_Here you hend slowly forward, with outstretched arms and a smile of ineffable tenderness. She finds — her best-beloved Bertram's Boots ! His patent leathers he had gone to town in, This was the pair he must have travelled down in ! [ With an awestrucic delight. \_Speak the next stanza very gently and feelingly. There is a pathos in the mute ajjpeal Of objects that have shared a bygone bliss : And even these dumb boots are down at heel. Seeming their absent master now to miss ! Which, as Belinda notes, she fain must kneel, And cheer them with a sympathetic kiss. But soon a carmine tide o'erflows her neck fast — The maid arrives, to clear away the breakfast ! [Very tender stress on breakfast; the breakfast he had shared with her — the meal begun in luipj)g umonscious- ness of coming bereavement — there is anoint to be made hei'e. Anon a fantasy Belinda thrills, And both the boots she on the table sets ; A PIIOFOS DE BOTTES. 89 All lovingly each vacancy she fills With freshly-gathered sweet March violets, \_liememher f/iaf '^riolrfs'" is a Iri-sijUahle to the poetic ear. And heavy-headed saH'ron daffodils — (Nor necessary moisture she forgets.) "To sigh," she whispers, "for your native valley cease — For when were flowers honoured by such chalices ? " [77//5 is wifelij, hut somewhat ovtrstraiyiecl in sentiment — to7ie it down. And she forgets the grim Teutonic bands, And she forgets the donkeys on the green. And she forgets the seagull-haunted sands, And she forgets the fashions in " The Queen," Seated before those boots with clasped hands, She feels no yearning e'er to change the scene. Content to linger by her flowers fragrant, And steep herself in recollections vagrant. [Hands behind you for these lines — S2)eak with eyes half shut, and a dream?/ melodious murmur. Thus all day long she kec[)s thcni in her sight, And murmurs to them tender little phrases, Imagining they comprehend her quite — Conduct that her good landlord much amazes. Who overhears her bidding them " good-night," [Kiss your /infers and smite fondly here. And open-mouthed upon the threshold gazes, [Both hands raised. Holding perchance that such proceedings can well Entitle her to residence at Hanwcll ! o 00 A PBOPOS DE BOTTES. Belinda seeks her couch — but, ere slie sinks Into the short obHvion of sleep, Her dewy eyes shine brighter, as she thinks, How those stout boots will o'er her slumbers keep A ward as unremitting as the lynx ! Then trembles — for, amid that silence deep, She hears : (0 portent passing understanding !) She hears them creaking towards the second landing I [Charge this last couplet ivilh a weird and sinister siigges- tiveness — after which you may proceed more jjlacidly. Uneasy on the morrow she descends — To find her flowers scattered far and faded, And the boots — gone ! Her perfect head she bends, The fair low brow with sweet distress is shaded, Marvelling much what evil this portends : Can Bertram, too, have perished just when they did? And were his boots, as Death secured his last trophy, Tramping upstairs to break the dread catastrophe ? \_This ivith parted lips, restless eyes, and a tone of hushed concentrated aive. When may she learn Avhither those twain have fled, Having achieved that automatic climb ? And where her Bertram now is lying — dead. The victim of some secret midnight crime ? She can but hide her grief-distracted head. And wait the leaden-footed lounge of Time ! About the Supernatural no man knew all, As she has learned from many a Christmas annual. A PEOFUS DE BOTTE>i. 91 She cowers to receive the stroke of Fate, \_Sii(jgest action of cower iruj. Hearing on every l)rceze her Bertram's knell. \_8top ears loUhfimjcni. Hark! {start, and jwini off in wild alarm.) .... was there not a clanging of the gate ? A feverish ringing at the front-door bell ? \_Let iiour face clear [iradualhj from terrified anficijMfion to incredulous relief — this will he found capital emotional ^rractice. 'Tis Bertram's self ! nay, wondrons to relate, He seerns most nnromantically ^Yell 1 Finding his Club a dismal place to stay at, he Has spent, it seems, his evening at the Gaiety. But ah ! not yet Belinda's mind at ease is ! (Specks there will be upon the fairest fruits) fShe nmst be silent — Bertram such a tease is — ]iut it appears that those were not liis hoots 1 And every time she hears the landlord's sneezes, She blushes to recall her past pursuits, Keen self-reproach recurs at each cadenza — AVet feet, she fears, brought on that influenza ! [Close with a gentle sigh and compassionate shake of li.e head, as you how yourself gracefully off. If you ai e called on again — don't go ! G 2 POSITIVELY THE LAST PEE- FOEMANCE ! EXAMPLE No. 13. Style : The " Homely Patheikr " Pathos," as was once profoundly observed to the pre- sent writer, "is a ticklish thing ;" and it must be admitted that the pathos of some amateur Reciters is infinitely more ticklish than tlieir humour. It is, however (as has been already remarked in connection with curdling), the natural and perfectly legitimate ambition of the youthful Elocu- tionist to harrow his audience to the best of his abihty. And audiences are not at all averse to being haiTowed — they may even be said to like it ! It is a curious phenomenon ; but, when persons are assembled for social enjoyment, nothing apparently affords them keener delight than a performance which produces in them certain peculiar sensations : such as the feeling of partial lack of control over the facial nerves, smarting and pricking at the back of the eyes, a growing sense of strangulation, and a general conviction that, unless something occurs to make them laugh at oncey they will be irresistibly compelled to sob like so many seals. These agi'eeable results may be attained with a really sur- ])risingly small expenditure of pathos ; and it has sometimes POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE ! 'J3 occurred to the Compiler that the means ado])ted to secure them often depend more tlian should ho u])on sentiment which might almost be described as false or overstrained ; that the incidents dealt with have but little relation to real life ; and that what might have proved eminently touch- ing, is maired at the critical point by some undesigned and quite involuntary association with the ludicrous or the gi'otesque. Now, in the following piece, the pitfalls above alluded to have been avoided with sedulous care. In it there is nothing overcoloured or unnatural — at least, such is the humble opinion of its author. The professional ardour and enthu- siasm for art of the common performing canary must be a fact within the knowledge of all observant persons, and — though it may not be invariably the ca.sc that the ruling passion should declare itself to the very last — only the very rashest of sceptics will venture to declare such a thing impossible. Not that it would really matter if it were — because, so long as you pitch your jiathos strong enough, you need not trouble yourself about the probability or even the possibility of the initial idea. It is only the morbid conscientiousness with which it has been already mentioned that the author is afflicted, which impels him to stick to actual life, and, like Caleb Plummer, ''to go as close to Nature as he can, ior sixpence." The Reciter will find that he produces a favourable impression, and instantly arouses the good humoui- of his hearers by announcing this pioce as — •»4 POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE. POSITIVELY THE LAST PErtFOEMANCE ! \_As you come on, fhoi-e should he a ge-neral suff/jesfion in your manner, Ihat you are svpiwsed to be the im- presario of an itinerant Gat and Canary Trowpe. Begin with a sloia and somewhat depressed sluike of the head, as if in answer to a casval inquirer, who is, of course, our old friend, the Imaginary Second Person. Xo, we ain't performin' to day, sir — and the public's all on the gape At seein' the mice in mourniu, and the cats in chokers o' crape ; \\:\i I'm givin' the Show a rest, d'ye see ? for I didn't feel up to the job, \_Pause ; then un'th suppressed emotion. For my leadin' comejian's left me, sir — [Here you pierceive that you are not fully understood, and explain with a touch of imjjatie^ice'] — the brindle Kinairy — Bob ! What, ye don't remember ? [Surjuise.^ Not him as wore the toonic o' Turkey red ? AVhat rode in the gilded kerridge, with a 'at an' plumes on his 'ed ? And, as soon as we'd taken a tanner, 'ud fire a saloot fi'om the gun ? [ With a lacJirymose enthusiasm. Tliei-e was Talent inside o' that liird, there was — or / never see it in one ! [Here you moralise in a p)hHosophic and slightly cynical vein. POSniVELY THE LAST FEIiFORMANCE ! 95 Well, lie's soon foi'f^ot — but I've often thought as a Jish keeps longer than Fame ! [Brea/r off ivith a sudden comprehmsion, and restored rordialilij. Oh, ye didn't know him as Boh ? .... I see ! no — that were liis private name, And I 'ad to annonncc 'im in public on a more long-winded-er scale — iSo I christened 'ini " Gineral ]\Ioultky," [a/)oIogeticalhj] which he \ul rather gone at the tail I And a bird more popilar never performed on a peripathetic stage, He was oilers sure of a round of applause as soon as he quitted the cage ! l''(ir he thoroughly heutered into the part he was down for to play, An' he never got '' fluffy " nor '• (lucered the pitch " — [Correct yourself mournfidl//'] — leastwise, till the hother day. 1 thought he'd bin liover-exertin 'isself, and 'ud better be out of the bill ; lUit it wasn't till yesterday hevenin' I'd any ideer he was ilf ! Then I see he was rough on the top of his 'ed, and his tongue looked dry at the tip — And it dawned on me like a thunderbolt — " Great Evings ! " I groaned, " The Pip ! " [77//s is Tjoitr first dramatic effect ; if you are careful, the audience should be completely ^;«m///serf hy the announcement. Jfalce them realisp the tremendous 96 POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE. conseqmnces involved hi such a discovery, and, token you tJwik Umy have done so, proceed in a quieter and more mattei'-of-fact tone. Well, I ^ad bin tralniii a siskin to hmiderstudy the part, And I sent him on — \_ioleranily'] which he done his best — but he 'adn't no notion o' Hart ! So I left the pitch as soon as I could, and (meanin' to make more 'aste,) I cut across one o' them buildin' sites, as was left a runnin' to waste. \_Now you have to build up your bacJcground for the main incident of the piece ; try to make it all real and vivid to the intelligence of your audience — take your time. There was yawning pits \_some elocutionists tvovld suit the action to the adjective here, hut we do not advise it — yaivniny is so infectious /] by the flinty road, ns rendered the prospect dull ; And 'ere and there a winderless 'ouse, with the look of a gi'inning skull ! A storm 'ad bin 'anging about all day (and it Irolcc, you'll remember, at last !) So I 'urriedup,it wasgittin' late — and theGineralsinkin' fast ! [You are now approacidny lite harroiviny part, hut do not force it as yet ; Jceep yourself in reserve, or they will Imve no tears left for the finish. But all on a sudding I 'card 'im give a kind of a feeble flap, So I stops an' T sez, in a 'opeful way, " AVhy, you're up in yer stiiTups, old chap ! " [A hold metaphor this to he ajjplied to a hird, hut quite in POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE. '.)7 Iceepiny icith your cliaroth'r. Ao/v loiver your voke to a level hopelessness. But I sec by tlie sliine in liis soiTOwfnl eye he was thinkin' " Afore I go, I'd like to see one perfonnance — fur the last — of the dear old Show ! " [^This is a yenuine touch of nature, and should yo home to everybody. And I sez, with a ketch in my voice, " You shall ! " and 1 whipped the sheet off the board, I stuck up the pair o' trestles, and fastened the tight-ro])e cord ; [^Feverishly. Then I propped the Gincral up in a place from which he could see the 'ole. An' I set the tabbies a-sparriiig, and the mice a-climljiii J. C. MORTON. THE ANIMAL LIFE OF THE FARM. ]!y brofessor b.rown. LABOUR ON THE FARM. By J. C. MORTON. BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., «, 9, 10, BOUVERIE ST., LONDON. THE SPORTSMAN'S COMPLETE LIBRARY OF READING. This inimitable series of volumes is absolutely unique, there being nothing approaching to them in all the wide range of modern or ancient literature. 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