diff options
Diffstat (limited to '28498-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 28498-8.txt | 5018 |
1 files changed, 5018 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/28498-8.txt b/28498-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc180a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/28498-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5018 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Speaker, No. 5: Volume II, Issue 1, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Speaker, No. 5: Volume II, Issue 1 + December, 1906. + +Author: Various + +Editor: Paul M. Pearson + +Release Date: April 5, 2009 [EBook #28498] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPEAKER, DECEMBER 1906 *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, C. St. Charleskindt, Bill +Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +The Table of Contents for this issue is found at the end of the text. + + + + +THE SPEAKER + + +EDITED BY +PAUL M. PEARSON + + +No. 5 + + + + +PEARSON BROTHERS +PHILADELPHIA + + + + +The Speaker + +Volume II. DECEMBER, 1906. No. 1. + + +[Sidenote: =The Will=] + +In teaching public speaking the final purpose must be to train the will. +Without this faculty in control all else comes to nothing. Exercises may +be given for articulation, but without a determined purpose to speak +distinctly little good will result. The teacher may spend himself in an +effort to inspire and enthuse the student, but this is futile unless the +student comes to a resolution to attain those excellencies of which the +teacher has spoken. That a student may become self-reliant is the chief +business of the teacher. To suggest such vital things in a way that the +student will feel impelled to work them out for himself, this is the art +in all teaching. To tell a student all there is to know about a subject, +or to present what is said in such a way that the student thinks there +is nothing more to be said, is to dwarf and stultify the mind. The +inclination of most students is to depend upon the teacher with a +helplessness that is as enervating as it is pitiable. Too many teachers, +flattered by this attitude or possessed of a sentimental sympathy, +encourage it. Thought, discretion, and courage are required to put a +student on his own resources and compel him to stay there until he has +acquired self-mastery. + +Public speaking cannot be exchanged for so much time or money. It cannot +be bought or sold; it comes, if it comes at all, as the result of a +wisely-directed determination. The teacher's part is to exalt, enthuse, +stimulate. He must criticise, certainly, but this is generally overdone. +Like some teachers of English who can never overlook a misplaced comma, +whose idea of English seems to be to spell and to punctuate correctly, +there are teachers of public speaking whose critical eye never sees +farther than gesture, articulation, and emphasis. With this attitude +toward their work, they become fault-finders rather than teachers. They +nag, harrass, and suppress. The business of the teacher is to make the +student see visions of beauty, truth and love, to open up to him these +mighty fields that he may go in and possess them. To implant a yearning, +an unquenchable, all-consuming desire to comprehend and to express the +emotions of which his teacher enables him to get glimpses. + +[Sidenote: =The Teacher=] + +Exercises? Yes, all the student can stand without becoming a drone. +Criticism? Yes, but no quibbling, no nagging. Criticism is something +more than fault-finding. The teacher exalts his profession, ennobles his +art, and begets consideration for himself when he maintains the highest +standards for himself and for his students. + +[Sidenote: =Habit=] + +Learning to speak well is, like forming character, a matter of +self-discipline and self-culture. A good voice is a good habit; distinct +articulation is a good habit; graceful and effective gestures are a good +habit. Like all good habits, these are formed by a constant exercise +of the will. The teacher's part is to get the students to hear his own +voice, to observe his own gestures, and listen to his own articulation. +These things cannot be accomplished over night, and if attempted all at +once may make the student too self-conscious; certainly this condition +will result if his faults are continually insisted upon. The teacher's +great opportunity is to enable the student to know himself, and to see +that he is determined to develop his best self. + + * * * * * + +[Sidenote: =Sincerity=] + +Sincerity in art! One sometimes doubts whether it exists. Take the +special field of art with which the readers of this magazine are +especially concerned. How many depend upon tricks to get their effects! +How many struggle mightily to gain a laugh or "a hand," neglecting the +theme, the message, the spirit of that which they are professing to +interpret. If that which we read is worth while, if it has anything +vital in it, the effect will be stronger if the skill and personality of +the speaker are kept in the background, and the audience is brought face +to face with the spirit of that which has been embodied in the lines. As +some readers go through their lines they seem to be saying, Listen to my +voice, observe my graceful gestures; isn't this a pretty gown I have? +I'll win you with my smile. Most audiences are good-natured, and enjoy +to the full such small vanities; moreover, we all like to see winning +smiles, beautiful gowns, and graceful gestures; but it is a pitiable +misnomer to call such exhibitions reading. But the more subtle forms of +insincerity in this art are even more prevalent. To exaggerate some form +of emphasis, to exaggerate a gesture or facial expression, to wrest a +passage from its meaning, these, and many other devices for forcing +immediate approval from an audience, are grossly insincere. There is +still a broader plan on which our sincerity must be judged. To present +this effectively I quote at length from Bliss Carmen's recent book, "The +Poetry of Life." The essay sets a high standard, but by no other can +enduring work be done. The fact that a reader has many engagements, or +that a teacher has many pupils is no assurance of sincerity or the high +grade of his work. "Munsey's Magazine" has a larger circulation than +"The Atlantic Monthly"; the one, "hack stuff," to be suffered only a +few minutes while waiting for a train; the other is literature. But, +to quote from Bliss Carmen. He is discussing the poetry of life, but +the same general principles apply to all art: + +[Sidenote: =Quoting Bliss Carmen=] + +"As for sincerity, the poetry of life need not always be solemn, any +more than life itself need not always be sober. It may be gay, witty, +humorous, satirical, disbelieving, farcical, even broad and reckless, +since life is all these; but it must never be insincere. Insincerity, +which is not always one of the greatest sins of the moral universe, +becomes in the world of art an offence of the first magnitude. +Insincerity in life may be mean, despicable, and indicate a petty +nature; but in art insincerity is death. A strong man may lie upon +occasion, and make restitution and be forgiven, but for the artist who +lies there is hardly any reparation possible, and his forgiveness is +much more difficult. Art, being the embodiment of the artist's ideal, +is truly the corporeal substance of his spiritual self; and that there +should be any falsehood in it, any deliberate failure to present him +faithfully, it is as monstrous and unnatural as it would be for a man +to disavow his own flesh and bones. Here we are every one of us going +through life committed and attached to our bodies; for all that we do +we are held responsible; if we misbehave, the world will take it out of +our hide. But here is our friend, the artist, committing his spiritual +energy to his art, to an embodiment outside himself, and escaping down +a by-path from all the consequences--what shall be said of him? The +insincere artist is as much beyond the pale of human sympathy as the +murderer. Morally he is a felon. + +"There is no excuse for him, either. There was no call for him to make a +liar of himself, other than the most sordid of reasons, the little gain, +the jingling reward of gold. For no man would ever be insincere in his +art, except for pay, except to cater to some other taste than his own, +and to win approval and favor by sycophancy. If he were assured of his +competency in the world, and placed beyond the reach of necessitous +want, how would it ever occur to him to create an insincere art? Art is +so simple, so spontaneous, so dependent on the disingenuous emotion, +that it can never be insincere, unless violence is done to all laws of +nature and of spirit. Since art arises from the sacramental blending of +the inward spirit with the outward form, any touch of insincerity in it +assumes the nature of a horrible crime, a pitiable revolt against the +order and eternity of the universe. + +[Sidenote: =Sincerity in Humor=] + +"It is not necessary, as I say, for art to be solemn and wholly +serious-minded in order to be sincere. Comedy is quite sincere. Yet it +is easy to usurp her name and play the fool for pennies, with never a +ray of appreciation of her true character. Sincerity, then, is not the +least averse to fun; it only requires that the fun shall be genuine and +come from the heart, as it requires that every note of whatever sort +shall be genuine and spring from the real personality of the writer." + + + + +On Time + +BY JOHN MILTON. + + + Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, + Call on thy lazy, leaden-stepping hours, + Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; + And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, + Which is no more than what is false and vain, + And merely mortal dross; + So little is our loss, + So little is thy gain. + For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, + And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, + Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss + With an individual kiss; + And Joy shall overtake us as a flood; + When everything that is sincerely good + And perfectly divine, + With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine + About the supreme Throne + Of Him, t' whose happy-making sight alone, + When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb, + Then all this earthly grossness quit, + Attir'd with stars, we shall forever sit, + Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, + O Time. + + + + +The Knight in the Wood + +BY E. LEICESTER WARREN. + +(Lord de Tabley.) + + + The thing itself was rough and crudely done, + Cut in coarse stone, spitefully placed aside + As merest lumber, where the light was worst + On a back staircase. Overlooked it lay + In a great Roman palace crammed with art. + It had no number in the list of gems + Weeded away, long since pushed out and banished, + Before insipid Guidos over-sweet + And Dolce's rose sensationalities, + And curly chirping angels, spruce as birds. + And yet the motive of this thing ill-hewn + And hardly seen did touch me. O, indeed, + The skill-less hand that carved it had belonged + To a most yearning and bewildered brain: + There was such desolation in the work; + And through its utter failure the thing spoke + With more of human message, heart to heart, + Than all these faultless, smirking, skin-deep saints, + In artificial troubles picturesque, + And martyred sweetly, not one curl awry.-- + Listen; a clumsy knight, who rode alone + Upon a stumbling jade in a great wood + Belated. The poor beast, with head low-bowed + Snuffing the ground. The rider leant + Forward to sound the marish with his lance. + The wretched rider and the hide-bound steed, + You saw the place was deadly; that doomed pair, + Feared to advance, feared to return.--That's all. + + + + +"A Little Feminine Casabianca"[A] + +BY GEORGE MADDEN MARTIN. + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon and Grace Kellam._) + + [By permission of the publishers and the author we reprint two + cuttings from stories in "Emmy Lou." There are ten stories in + the book, all of them excellent readings. McClure, Phillips & + Co., New York.] + + +The Primer Class according to the degree of its precocity was divided in +three sections. Emmy Lou belonged to the third section. It was the last +section, and she was the last one in it, though she had no idea what a +section meant nor why she was in it; and Emmy Lou went on wondering +what it was all about, which never would have been the case had there +been a mother among the elders of the house, for mothers have a way of +understanding these things. But to Emmy Lou "mother" had come to mean +but a memory which faded as it came, a vague consciousness of encircling +arms, of a brooding tender face, of yearning eyes; and it was only +because they told her that Emmy Lou remembered how mother had gone away +South, one winter, to get well. That they afterward told her it was +heaven, in nowise confused Emmy Lou, because, for aught she knew, South +and heaven and much else might be included in these points of the +compass. Ever since then Emmy Lou had lived with three aunties and an +uncle; and papa had been coming a hundred miles once a month to see her. + +But somehow the Primer year wore away; and the close of the first week +of Emmy Lou's second year at a certain large public school found her +round, chubby self, like a pink-cheeked period, ending the long line of +intermingled little boys and girls making what was known, twenty-five +years ago, as the First Reader Class. + +Her heart grew still within her at the slow, awful enunciation of the +Large Lady in black bombazine who reigned over the department of the +First Reader, pointing her morals with a heavy forefinger, before which +Emmy Lou's eyes lowered with every aspect of conscious guilt. Nor did +Emmy Lou dream that the Large Lady, whose black bombazine was the +visible sign of a loss by death that had made it necessary for her to +enter the school-room to earn a living, was finding the duties incident +to the First Reader almost as strange and perplexing as Emmy Lou +herself. + +Emmy Lou from the first day found herself descending steadily to the +foot of the class; and there she remained until the awful day, at the +close of the first week, when the Large Lady, realizing perhaps that +she could no longer ignore such adherence to that lowly position, made +discovery that while to Emmy Lou "d-o-g" might spell "dog" and "f-r-o-g" +might spell "frog," Emmy Lou could not find either on a printed page, +and further, could not tell wherein they differed when found for her; +that, also, Emmy Lou made her figure 8's by adding one uncertain little +o to the top of another uncertain little o; and that while Emmy Lou +might copy, in smeary columns, certain cabalistic signs off the +blackboard, she could not point them off in tens, hundreds, thousands, +or read their numerical values, to save her little life. The Large Lady, +sorely perplexed within herself as to the proper course to be pursued, +in the sight of the fifty-nine other First Readers pointed a condemning +forefinger at the miserable little object standing in front of her +platform; and said, "You will stay after school, Emma Louise, that I +may examine further into your qualifications for this grade." + +Now Emmy Lou had no idea what it meant--"examine further into your +qualifications for this grade." It might be the form of punishment in +vogue for the chastisement of the members of the First Reader. But "stay +after school" she did understand, and her heart sank, and her little +breast heaved. + +It was past the noon recess. At last the bell for dismissal had rung. +The Large Lady, arms folded across her bombazine bosom, had faced the +class, and with awesome solemnity had already enunciated, "Attention," +and sixty little people had sat up straight, when the door opened, and +a teacher from the floor above came in. + +At her whispered confidence, the Large Lady left the room hastily, +while the strange teacher with a hurried "one-two-three, march out +quietly, children," turned, and followed her. And Emmy Lou, left sitting +at her desk, saw through gathering tears the line of First Readers wind +around the room and file out the door, the sound of their departing +footsteps along the bare corridors and down the echoing stairway coming +back like a knell to her sinking heart. Then class after class from +above marched past the door and on its clattering way, while voices from +outside, shrill with the joy of the release, came up through the open +windows in talk, in laughter, together with the patter of feet on the +bricks. Then as these familiar sounds grew fewer, fainter, farther away, +some belated footsteps went echoing through the building, a door slammed +somewhere--then--silence. + +Emmy Lou waited. She wondered how long it would be. There was watermelon +at home for dinner; she had seen it borne in, a great, striped promise +of ripe juicy lusciousness, on the marketman's shoulder before she came +to school. And here a tear, long gathering, splashed down the pink cheek. + +Still that awesome personage presiding over the fortunes of the First +Reader failed to return. Perhaps this was "the examination into--into--" +Emmy Lou could not remember what--to be left in this big, bare room with +the flies droning and humming in lazy circles up near the ceiling. The +forsaken desks, with a forgotten book or slate left here and there upon +them, the pegs around the wall empty of hats and bonnets, the unoccupied +chair upon the platform--Emmy Lou gazed at these with a sinking +sensation of desolation, while tear followed tear down her chubby face. +And listening to the flies and the silence, Emmy Lou began to long for +even the Bombazine Presence, and dropping her quivering countenance upon +her arms folded upon the desk she sobbed aloud. But the time was long, +and the day was warm, and the sobs grew slower, and the breath began to +come in long-drawn, quivering sighs, and the next Emmy Lou knew she was +sitting upright, trembling in every limb, and some one coming up the +stairs--she could hear the slow, heavy footfalls, and a moment after +she saw the Man, the Recess Man, the low, black-bearded, black-browed, +scowling Man, with the broom across his shoulder, reach the hallway, and +make toward the open doorway of the First Reader room. Emmy Lou held her +breath, stiffened her little body, and--waited. But the Man pausing to +light his pipe, Emmy Lou, in the sudden respite thus afforded slid in +a trembling heap beneath the desk, and on hands and knees went crawling +across the floor. And as Uncle Michael came in, a moment after, broom, +pan, and feather-duster in hand, the last fluttering edge of a little +pink dress was disappearing into the depths of the big, empty coal-box, +and its sloping lid was lowering upon a flaxen head and cowering little +figure crouched within. Uncle Michael having put the room to rights, +sweeping and dusting, with many a rheumatic groan in accompaniment, +closed the windows, and going out, drew the door after him, and, as was +his custom, locked it. + +Meanwhile, at Emmy Lou's home the elders wondered. But Emmy Lou did not +come. And by half-past two Aunt Louise, the youngest auntie, started out +to find her. But after searching the neighborhood in vain, returned home +in despair. Then Aunt Cordelia sent the house boy down-town for Uncle +Charlie. Just as Uncle Charlie arrived--and it was past five o'clock by +then--some of the children of the neighborhood, having found a small boy +living some squares off who confessed to being in the First Reader with +Emmy Lou, arrived also, with the small boy in tow. + +"She didn't know 'dog' from 'frog' when she saw 'em," stated the small +boy, with derision of superior ability, "an' teacher, she told her to +stay after school. She was settin' there in her desk when school let +out, Emmy Lou was." + +But a big girl of the neighborhood objected. "Her teacher went home the +minute school was out," she declared. "Isn't the new lady, Mrs. Samuels, +your teacher?" "Well, her daughter, Lettie, she's in my room, and she +was sick, and her mother came up to our room and took her home. Our +teacher she went down and dismissed the First Readers." + +"I don't care if she did," retorted the small boy. "I reckon I saw Emmy +Lou settin' there when we come away." + +The three aunts grew pale and tearful, and wrung their hands in despair. +The small boy from the First Reader, legs apart, hands in knickerbocker +pockets, gazed at the crowd of irresolute elders with scornful wonder. +"What you wanter do is find Uncle Michael; he keeps the keys. He went +past my house a while ago, going home. He lives in Rose Lane Alley. +'Taint much outer my way, I'll take you there." And meekly they followed +in his footsteps. + +It was dark when a motley throng of uncles, aunties, visiting lady, +neighbors and children went climbing the cavernous, echoing stairway +of the dark school building behind the toiling figure of the skeptical +Uncle Michael, lantern in hand. + +"Ain't I swept over every inch of this here schoolhouse myself and +carried the trash outten a dust-pan?" grumbled Uncle Michael, with what +inference nobody just then stopped to inquire. Then with the air of +a mistreated, aggrieved person who feels himself a victim, he paused +before a certain door on the second floor, and fitted a key in its lock. +"Here it is then, No. 9, to satisfy the lady," and he flung open the +door. The light of Uncle Michael's lantern fell full upon the wide-eyed, +terror-smitten person of Emmy Lou, in her desk, awaiting, her miserable +little heart knew not what horror. + +"She--she told me to stay," sobbed Emmy Lou in Aunt Cordelia's arms, +"and I stayed; and the Man came, and I hid in the coal-box!" + + +[A] Copyright, 1901, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co. + + + + +What He Got Out of It + +BY S. E. KISER. + +(From the _Chicago Record-Herald_.) + + + He never took a day of rest, + He couldn't afford it; + He never had his trousers pressed, + He couldn't afford it; + He never went away, care-free, + To visit distant lands, to see + How fair a place this world might be-- + He couldn't afford it. + + He never went to see a play, + He couldn't afford it; + His love for art he put away, + He couldn't afford it. + He died and left his heirs a lot, + But no tall shaft proclaims the spot + In which he lies--his children thought + They couldn't afford it. + + + + +The Play's the Thing[B] + +BY GEORGE MADDEN MARTIN. + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon and Grace Kellam._) + + +It was the day of the exhibition. Miss Carrie, teacher of the Third +Reader Class, talked in deep tones--gestures meant sweeps and circles. +Since the coming of Miss Carrie, the Third Reader Class lived, as it +were, in the public eye, for on Fridays books were put away and the +attention given to recitations and company. _No_ other class had these +recitations, and the Third Reader was envied. Its members were pointed +out and gazed upon, until one realized one was standing in the garish +light of fame. The other readers, it seemed, longed for fame and +craved publicity, and so it came about that the school was to have an +exhibition with Miss Carrie's genius to plan and engineer the whole. +For general material Miss Carrie drew from the whole school, but the +play was for her own class alone. + +And this was the day of the exhibition. + +Hattie and Sadie and Emmy Lou stood at the gate of the school. They had +spent the morning in rehearsing. At noon they had been sent home with +instructions to return at half-past two. The exhibition would begin at +three. + +"Of course," Miss Carrie had said, "you will not fail to be on time." +And Miss Carrie had used her deepest tones. + +It was not two o'clock, and the three stood at the gate, the first to +return. They were in the same piece. It was "The Play." In a play one +did more than suit the part. + +In the play Hattie and Sadie and Emmy Lou found themselves the orphaned +children of a soldier who had failed to return from the war. It was a +very sad piece. Sadie had to weep, and more than once Emmy Lou had found +tears in her eyes, watching her. + +Miss Carrie said Sadie showed histrionic talent. Emmy Lou asked Hattie +about it, who said it meant tears, and Emmy Lou remembered then how +tears came naturally to Sadie. + +When Aunt Cordelia heard they must dress to suit the part she came to +see Miss Carrie, and so did the mamma of Sadie and the mamma of Hattie. + +"Dress them in a kind of mild mourning," Miss Carrie explained, "not too +deep, or it will seem too real, and, as three little sisters, suppose we +dress them alike." + +And now Hattie and Sadie and Emmy Lou stood at the gate ready for the +play. Stiffly immaculate white dresses with beltings of black sashes, +flared jauntily out above spotless white stockings and sober little +slippers, while black-bound Leghorn hats shaded three anxious little +countenances. By the exact center, each held a little handkerchief, +black-bordered. + +Hattie and Sadie and Emmy Lou wore each an anxious seriousness +of countenance, but it was a variant seriousness; for as the hour +approached, the solemn importance of the occasion was stealing +brain-ward, and Emmy Lou even began to feel glad she was a part of +The Exhibition, for to have been left out would have been worse even +than the moment of mounting the platform. + +"My grown-up brother's coming," said Hattie, "an' my mamma an' gran'ma +an' the rest." + +"My Aunt Cordelia has invited the visiting lady next door," said Emmy +Lou. + +But it was Sadie's hour. "Our minister's coming," said Sadie. + +Emmy Lou's part was to weep when Sadie wept, and to point a chubby +forefinger skyward when Hattie mentioned the departure from earth of the +soldier parent, and to lower that forefinger footward at Sadie's tearful +allusion to an untimely grave. + +Emmy Lou had but one utterance, and it was brief. She was to advance one +foot, stretch forth a hand and say, in the character of orphan for whom +no asylum was offered, "We know not where we go." All day, Emmy Lou had +been saying it at intervals of half minutes, for fear she might forget. + +Meanwhile, it yet lacking a moment or so of two o'clock, the orphaned +heroes continued to linger at the gate, awaiting the hour. + +"Listen," said Hattie, "I hear music." + +There was a church across the street. It was a large church with high +steps and a pillared portico, and its doors were open. + +"It's a band, and marching," said Hattie. + +The orphaned children hurried to the curb. A procession was turning the +corner and coming toward them. On either sidewalk crowds of men and boys +accompanied it. + +"It's a funeral," said Sadie. + +Hattie turned with a face of conviction. "I know. It's that big +general's funeral; they're bringing him home to bury him with the +soldiers." + +"We'll never see a thing for the crowd," despaired Sadie. + +Emmy Lou was gazing. "They've got plumes in their hats," she said. + +"Let's go over on the church steps and see it go by," said Hattie, "it's +early." + +The orphaned children hurried across the street. They climbed the steps. +At the top they turned. There were plumes and more, there were flags and +swords, and a band led. But at the church, with unexpected abruptness, +the band halted, turned; it fell apart, and the procession came through; +it came right on through and up the steps, a line of uniforms and swords +on either side from curb to pillar, and halted. + +Aghast, between two glittering files, the orphaned children shrank into +the shadow behind a pillar, while upstreamed from the carriages below +an unending line--bare-headed men and ladies bearing flowers. Behind, +below, about, closing in on every side, crowded people, a sea of people. + +The orphaned children found themselves swept from their hiding by the +crowd and unwillingly jostled forward into prominence. + +A frowning man, with a sword in his hand, seemed to be threatening +everybody; his face was red and his voice was big, and he glittered with +many buttons. All at once he caught sight of the orphaned children and +threatened them vehemently. + +"Here," said the frowning man, "right in here," and he placed them in +line. The orphaned children were appalled, and even in the face of the +man cried out in protest. But the man of the sword did not hear, for +the reason that he did not listen. Instead he was addressing a large +and stout lady immediately behind them. + +"Separated from the family in the confusion, the grandchildren +evidently--just see them in, please." + +And suddenly the orphaned children found themselves a part of the +procession as grandchildren. The nature of a procession is to proceed. +And the grandchildren proceeded with it. They could not help themselves. +There was no time for protest, for, pushed by the crowd, which closed +and swayed above their heads, and piloted by the stout lady close +behind, they were swept into the church and up the aisle, and when they +came again to themselves were in the inner corner of a pew near the +front. + +The church was decked with flags. So was the Third Reader room. It was +hung with flags for The Exhibition. + +Hattie in the corner nudged Sadie. Sadie urged Emmy Lou, who, next to +the stout lady, touched her timidly. "We have to get out; we've got to +say our parts." + +"Not now," said the lady, reassuringly; "the program is at the +cemetery." + +Emmy Lou did not understand, and she tried to tell the lady. + +"S-h-," said the person, engaged with the spectacle and the crowd; +"sh-h-" Abashed, Emmy Lou sat, sh-h-ed. + +Hattie arose. It was terrible to rise in church, and at a funeral, and +the church was filled, the aisles were crowded, but Hattie rose. Hattie +was a St. George, and a Dragon stood between her and The Exhibition. +She pushed by Sadie, and past Emmy Lou. Hattie was slim as she was +strenuous, but not even so slim a little girl as Hattie could push by +the stout lady, for she filled the space. + +At Hattie's touch she turned. Although she looked good-natured, the +size and ponderance of the lady were intimidating. She stared at Hattie; +people were looking; it was in church; Hattie's face was red. + +"You can't get to the family," said the lady; "you couldn't move in +the crowd. Besides I promised to see to you. Now be quiet," she added +crossly, when Hattie would have spoken. She turned away. Hattie crept +back vanquished by this Dragon. + +"So suitably dressed," the stout lady was saying to a lady beyond; +"grandchildren, you know. Even their little handkerchiefs have +black borders." The service began, and there fell on the unwilling +grandchildren the submission of awe. The stout lady cried, she also +punched Emmy Lou with her elbow whenever that little person moved, but +finally she found courage to turn her head so she could see Sadie. Sadie +was weeping into her black-bordered handkerchief, nor were they tears +of histrionic talent. They were real tears. People all about were +looking at her sympathetically. Such grief in a grandchild was very +moving. It may have been minutes; it seemed to Emmy Lou hours, before +there came a general uprising. Hattie stood up. So did Sadie and Emmy +Lou. Their skirts no longer stood out jauntily; they were quite crushed +and subdued. There was a wild, hunted look in Hattie's eyes. "Watch +the chance!" she whispered, "and run." + +But it did not come. As the pews emptied, the stout lady passed Emmy Lou +on, addressing some one beyond. "Hold to this one," she said, "and I'll +take the other two, or they'll get tramped in the crowd." + +Slowly the crowd moved, and being a part of it, however unwillingly, +Emmy Lou moved, too, out of the church and down the steps. Then came +the crashing of the band and the roll of the carriages, and she found +herself in the front row on the curb. + +The man with the brandishing sword was threatening violently. "One more +carriage is here for the family," called the man with the sword. His +glance in search for the family suddenly fell on Emmy Lou. She felt it +fall. + +The problem solved itself for the man with the sword, and his brow +cleared. + +"Grandchildren next," roared the threatening man. "Keep an eye on +them--separated from the family," he was explaining, and in spite of +their protests, a moment later the three little girls were lifted into +the carriage, and as the door banged, their carriage moved with the +rest up the street. + +"Now," said Hattie, and Hattie sprang to the farther door. It would not +open. Through the carriage windows the school, with its arched doorways +and windows, gazed frowningly, reproachfully. A gentleman entered the +gate and went in the doorway. + +"It's our minister," said Sadie, weeping afresh. Then Hattie wept and +so did Emmy Lou. What would The Exhibition do without them? + +Late that afternoon a carriage stopped at a corner upon which a school +building stood. Since his charges were infantile affairs, the colored +gentleman on the box thought to expedite matters and drop them at the +corner nearest their homes. Descending, he flung open the door, and +three little girls crept forth, three crushed little girls, three limp +little girls, three little girls in a mild kind of mourning. They came +forth timidly. They looked around. They hoped they might reach their +homes unobserved. + +There was a crowd up the street. A gathering of people--many people. +It seemed to be at Emmy Lou's gate. Hattie and Sadie lived farther on. + +"It must be a fire," said Hattie. + +But it wasn't. It was The Exhibition, the Principal, and Miss Carrie, +and teachers and pupils, and mammas and aunties and Uncle Charlie. + +"An' grand'ma," said Hattie. "And the visiting lady," said Emmy Lou. +"And our minister," said Sadie. + +The gathering of many people caught sight of them presently, and came +to meet them, three little girls in mild mourning. + +The parents and guardians led them home. + +Emmy Lou was tired. At supper she nodded and mild mourning and all, +suddenly she collapsed and fell asleep, her head against her chair. + +Uncle Charlie woke her. He stood her up on the chair, and held out his +arms. "Come," he said, "Come, suit the action to the word." + +Emmy Lou woke suddenly, the words smiting her ears with ominous import. +She thought the hour had come; it was The Exhibition. She stood stiffly, +she advanced a cautious foot, her chubby hand described a careful half +circle. Emmy Lou spoke her part. + +"We know not where we go." + + +[B] Copyright, 1901, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co. + + + + +The Dancing School and Dicky[C] + +BY JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM. + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon and Grace Kellam._) + +[From "The Little God and Dicky."] + + [We have debated long and earnestly which of the seven stories + in "The Madness of Phillip and Other Tales of Childhood" is the + best public reading. As yet we have no decision; certainly six + of them are among the choicest readings of child-life which may + be found in American literature, where we have the real child in + books. With the permission of the author and the publishers, + McClure, Phillips & Co., New York, we reprint cuttings from two + of these stories.] + + +"Where are you going?" said somebody, as he slunk out toward the +hat-rack. + +"Oh, out." + +"Well, see that you don't stay long. Remember what it is this +afternoon." + +He turned like a stag at bay. + +"_What_ is it this afternoon?" he demanded viciously. + +"You know very well." + +"_What?_" + +"See that you're here, that's all. You've got to get dressed." + +"I will not go to that old dancing school again, and I tell you that +I won't, and I won't. And I won't!" + +"Now, Dick, don't begin that all over again. It's so silly of you. +You've got to go." + +"Why?" + +"Because it's the thing to do." + +"Why?" + +"Because you must learn to dance." + +"Why?" + +"Every nice boy learns." + +"Why?" + +"That will do, Richard. Go and find your pumps. Now, get right up from +the floor, and if you scratch the Morris chair I shall speak to your +father. Ain't you ashamed of yourself? Get right up--you must expect to +be hurt, if you pull so. Come, Richard! Now, stop crying--a great boy +like you! I am sorry I hurt your elbow, but you know very well you +aren't crying for that at all. Come along!" + +His sister flitted by the door, her accordeon-plaited skirt held +carefully from the floor, her hair in two glistening, blue-knotted +pigtails. + +"Hurry up, Dick, or we'll be late," she called back sweetly. + +"Oh, you shut up, will you!" he snarled. + +She looked meek, and listened to his deprivation of dessert for the +rest of the week with an air of love for the sinner and hatred for the +sin that deceived even her older sister who was dressing her. + +A desperately patient monologue from the next room indicated the course +of events there. + +"Your necktie is on the bed. No, I don't know where the blue one is--it +doesn't matter; that it just as good. Yes, it is. No, you cannot. You +will have to wear one. Because no one ever goes without. I don't know why. + +"Many a boy would be thankful and glad to have silk stockings. Nonsense, +your legs are warm enough. I don't believe you. Now, Richard, how +perfectly ridiculous! There is no left or right to stockings. You have +no time to change. Shoes are a different thing. Well, hurry up, then. +Because they are made so, I suppose. I don't know why. + +"Brush it more on that side--no, you can't go to the barbers. You went +last week. It looks perfectly well. I cut it? Why, I don't know how to +trim hair. Anyway, there isn't time now. It will have to do. Stop your +scowling for goodness' sake, Dick. Have you a handkerchief? It makes +no difference, you must carry one. You _ought_ to want to use it. Well, +you should. Yes, they always do, whether they have colds or not. I +don't know why. + +"Your Golden Text! The idea! No, you cannot. You can learn that Sunday +before church. This is not the time to learn Golden Texts. I never saw +such a child. Now take your pumps and find the plush bag. Why not? Put +them right with Ruth's. That's what the bag was made for. Well, how +do you want to carry them? Why, I never heard of anything so silly! +You will knot the strings. I don't care if they do carry skates that +way--skates are not slippers. You'd lose them. Very well, then, only +hurry up. I should think you'd be ashamed to have them dangling around +your neck that way. Because people never _do_ carry them so. I don't +know why. + +"Now, here's your coat. Well, I can't help it, you have no time to hunt +for them. Put your hands in your pockets--it's not far. And mind, don't +run for Ruth every time. You don't take any pains with her, and you +hustle her about, Miss Dorothy says. Take another little girl. Yes, +you must. I shall speak to your father if you answer me in that way, +Richard. Men don't dance with their sisters. Because they don't. I don't +know why." + +He slammed the door till the piazza shook, and strode along beside his +scandalized sister, the pumps flopping noisily on his shoulders. She +tripped along contentedly--she liked to go. The personality capable of +extracting pleasure from the hour before them baffled his comprehension, +and he scowled fiercely at her, rubbing his silk stockings together at +every step, to enjoy the strange smooth sensation thus produced. This +gave him a bow-legged gait that distressed his sister beyond words. + +"I think you might stop. Everybody's looking at you! Please stop, Dick +Pendleton; you're a mean old thing. I should think you'd be ashamed to +carry your slippers that way. If you jump in that wet place and spatter +me I shall tell papa--you _will_ care, when I tell him just the same! +You're just as bad as you can be. I shan't speak with you to-day!" + +She pursed up her lips and maintained a determined silence. He rubbed +his legs together with renewed emphasis. Acquaintances met them and +passed, unconscious of anything but the sweet picture of a sister and a +brother and a plush bag going dutifully and daintily to dancing school. + +He jumped over the threshold of the long room and aimed his cap at the +head of a boy he knew, who was standing on one foot to put on a slipper. +This destroyed his friend's balance, and a cheerful scuffle followed. +Life assumed a more hopeful aspect. + +A shrill whistle called them out in two crowded bunches to the polished +floor. + +Hoping against hope, he had clung to the beautiful thought that Miss +Dorothy would be sick, that she had missed her train--but no! There she +was, with her shiny high-heeled slippers, her pink skirt that puffed +out like a fan, and her silver whistle on a chain. The little clicking +castanets that rang out so sharply were in her hand beyond a doubt. + +"Ready, children! Spread out. Take your lines. First position. Now!" + +The large man at the piano, who always looked half asleep, thundered out +the first bars of the latest waltz, and the business began. + +Their eyes were fixed solemnly on Miss Dorothy's pointed shoes. They +slipped and slid and crossed their legs and arched their pudgy insteps; +the boys breathed hard over their gleaming collars. On the right side +of the hall thirty hands held out their diminutive skirts at an alluring +angle. On the left, neat black legs pattered diligently through mystic +evolutions. + +The chords rolled out slower, with dramatic pauses between; sharp clicks +of the castanets rang through the hall; a line of toes rose gradually +towards the horizontal, whirled more or less steadily about, crossed +behind, bent low, bowed, and with a flutter of skirts resumed the first +position. + +A little breeze of laughing admiration circled the row of mothers and +aunts. + +"Isn't that too cunning! Just like a little ballet! Aren't they +graceful, really, now!" + +"_One_, two, three! _One_, two three! Slide, slide, cross; _one_, two, +three!" + +There are those who find pleasure in the aimless intricacies of the +dance; self-respecting men even have been known voluntarily to frequent +assemblies devoted to this nerve-racking attitudinizing futility. Among +such, however, you shall seek in vain in future years for Richard Carr +Pendleton. + +"_One_, two, three! _Reverse_, two, three!" + +The whistle shrilled. + +"Ready for the two-step, children?" + +A mild tolerance grew on him. If dancing must be, better the two-step +than anything else. It is not an alluring dance, your two-step; it does +not require temperament. Any one with a firm intention of keeping the +time and a strong arm can drag a girl through it very acceptably. + +Dicky skirted the row of mothers and aunts cautiously. + +"Oh, look! Did you ever see anything so sweet?" said somebody. +Involuntarily he turned. There in a corner, all by herself, a little +girl was gravely performing a dance. He stared at her curiously. + +She was ethereally slender, brown-eyed, brown-haired, brown-skinned. A +little fluffy white dress spread fan-shaped over her knees; her ankles +were bird-like. Her eyes were serious, her hair hung loose. She swayed +lightly; one little gloved hand held out her skirt, the other marked the +time. Her performance was an apotheosis of the two-step; that metronomic +dance would not have recognized itself under her treatment. + +Dicky admired. But the admiration of his sex is notoriously fatal to the +art that attracts it. He advanced and bowed jerkily, grasped one of the +loops of her sash in the back, stamped gently a moment to get the time, +and the artist sank into the partner, the pirouette grew coarse to +sympathize with clay. + +"Don't they do it well, though! See those little things near the door!" +he caught as they went by, and his heart swelled with pride. + +"What's your name?" he asked abruptly after the dance. + +"Thithelia," she lisped. She was very shy. + +"Mine's Richard Carr Pendleton. My father's a lawyer. What's yours?" + +"I--I don't know!" + +"Pooh!" he said, grandly; "I guess you know. Don't you, really?" + +She shook her head. Suddenly a light dawned in her eyes. + +"Maybe I know," she murmured. "I gueth I know. He--he'th a really +thtate!" + +"A really state? That isn't anything--nothing at all. A really state?" +He frowned at her. Her lip quivered. She turned and ran away. + +"Here, come back!" he called; but she was gone. + +"That will do for to-day," said Miss Dorothy, presently, and they surged +into the dressing-rooms, to be buttoned up and pulled out of draughts +and trundled home. + +She was swathed carefully in a wadded silk jacket, and then enveloped in +a hooded cloak; she looked like an angelic brownie. Dicky ran to her as +a woman led her out to a coupé at the curb, and tugged at the ribbon of +her cloak. + +"Where do you live? Say, where do you?" he demanded. + +"I--I don't know." The woman laughed. + +"Why, yes, you do, Cissy. Tell him directly, now." + +She put one tiny finger in her mouth. + +"I--I gueth I live on Chethnut Thtreet," he called as the door slammed +and shut her in. + +His sister amicably offered him half the plush bag to carry, and opened +a running criticism of the afternoon. + +"Did you ever see anybody act like that Fannie Leach? She's awfully +rough. Miss Dorothy spoke to her twice--wasn't that dreadful? What made +you dance all the time with Cissy Weston? She's an awful baby--a regular +fraid-cat! We girls tease her just as easy--do you like her?" + +"She's the prettiest one there!" + +"Why, Dick Pendleton, she is not! She's so little--she's not half so +pretty as Agnes, or--or lots of the girls. She's such a baby. She puts +her finger in her mouth if anybody says anything at all. If you ask +her a single thing she does like this: 'I don't know, I don't know!'" + +He smiled scornfully. Did he not know how she did it? + +"And she can't talk plain! She lisps--truly she does!" + +Was ever a girl so thick-headed as that sister of his! + +"She puts her finger in her mouth! She can't talk plain!" Alas, my +sisters, it was Helen's finger that toppled over Troy, and Diane de +Poitiers stammered! + +For two long months the little girl led him along the primrose way. The +poor fellow thought it was the main road; he had yet to learn it was but +a by-path. But the Little God was not through with him. That very night +he reached the top of the wave. + +He came down to breakfast rapt and quiet. He salted his oatmeal by +mistake, and never knew the difference. His sister laughed derisively, +and explained his folly to him as he swallowed the last spoonful, but +he only smiled kindly at her. After his egg he spoke. + +"I dreamed that it was dancing school. And I went. And I was the only +fellow there. And what do you think? _All the little girls were +Cecilia!_" + +They gasped. + +"You don't suppose he'll be a poet, do you? Or a genius, or anything?" +his mother inquired anxiously. + +"No!" his father returned. "I should say he was more likely to be a +Mormon!" + + +[C] Copyright, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co. + + + + +"A Model Story in the Kindergarten"[D] + +BY JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM. + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon and Grace Kellam._) + + [From "The Madness of Philip." McClure, Phillips & Company.] + + +It was evident that something was wrong that morning with the children +of the kindergarten. Two perplexed teachers were quieting the latest +outbreak and marshaling a wavering line of very little people when the +youngest assistant appeared on the scene. + +"Miss Hunt wants to know why you're so late with them," she inquired. +"She hopes nothing's wrong. Mrs. R. B. M. Smith is here to-day to visit +the primary schools and kindergartens, and--" + +"Oh, goodness," exclaimed a teacher, abruptly, ceasing her attempted +consolation of Marantha Judd. "I can't _bear_ that woman! She's always +read Stanley Hall's _last_ article that proves that what he said before +was wrong! Come along, Marantha, don't be a foolish little girl any +longer. We shall be late for the morning exercise." + +Upstairs a large circle was forming under the critical scrutiny of a +short, stout woman with crinkly, gray hair. This was Mrs. R. B. M. +Smith, who, when the opening exercises were finished, signified her +willingness to relate to the children a model story, calling the +teacher's attention in advance to the almost incredible certainty that +would characterize the children's anticipation of the events judiciously +and psychologically selected. + +The arm-chairs shortly to contain so much accurate anticipation were +at last arranged and the children sat decorously attentive, their faces +turned curiously toward the strange lady with the fascinating plumes in +her bonnet. + +"Nothing like animals to bring out the protective instinct--feebler +dependent on the stronger," she said rapidly to the teachers, and then +addressed the objects of these theories. + +"Now, children, I'm going to tell you a nice story--you all like +stories, I'm sure." + +At just this moment little Richard Willetts sneezed loudly and +unexpectedly to all, himself included, with the result that his +ever-ready suspicion fixed upon his neighbor, Andrew Halloran, as the +direct cause of the convulsion. Andrew's well-meant efforts to detach +from Richard's vest the pocket-handkerchief securely fastened thereto +by a large black safety-pin strengthened the latter's conviction of +intended assault and battery, and he squirmed out of the circle and made +a dash for the hall--the first stage in an evident homeward expedition. + +This broke in upon the story, and even when it got under way again there +was an atmosphere of excitement quite unexplained by the tale itself. + +"Yesterday, children, as I came out of my yard, _what_ do you think I +saw?" The elaborately concealed surprise in store was so obvious that +Marantha rose to the occasion and suggested: + +"An el'phunt?" + +"Why, no! Why should I see an elephant in my yard? It wasn't _nearly_ +so big as that--it was a _little_ thing!" + +"A fish?" ventured Eddy Brown, whose eye fell upon the aquarium in the +corner. The _raconteuse_ smiled patiently. + +"Why, no! How could a fish, a live fish, get in my front yard?" + +"A dead fish?" persisted Eddy, who was never known to relinquish +voluntarily an idea. + +"It was a little kitten," said the story-teller, decidedly. "A little +white kitten. She was standing right near a great big puddle of water. +And what else do you think I saw?" + +"Another kitten?" suggested Marantha, conservatively. + +"No, a big Newfoundland dog. He saw the little kitten near the water. +Now cats don't like the water, do they? They don't like a wet place. +What do they like?" + +"Mice," said Joseph Zukoffsky, abruptly. + +"Well, yes, they do; but there were no mice in my yard. I'm sure you +know what I mean. If they don't like _water_, what do they like?" + +"Milk!" + +"They like a dry place," said Mrs. R. B. M. Smith. + +"Now what do you suppose the dog did?" + +It may be that successive failures had disheartened the listeners; it +may be that the very range presented alive to the dog and them for +choice dazzled their imaginations. At any rate, they made no answer. + +"Nobody knows what the dog did?" repeated the story-teller, +encouragingly. "What would you do if you saw a little white kitten +like that?" + +Again a silence. Then Philip remarked gloomily, "I'd pull its tail." + +"And what do the rest of you think?" inquired Mrs. R. B. M. Smith, +pathetically. "I hope _you_ are not so cruel as that little boy." + +But fully half the children had seen the youngest assistant giggle at +"that little boy's" answer, and with one accord came the quick response, +"_I'd_ pull it too." + + +[D] Copyright, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co. + + + + +Fishin'? + +(From the _New Orleans Times-Democrat_.) + + + Settin' on a log + An' fishin' + An' watchin' the cork, + An' wishin'. + + Jus' settin' round home + An' sighin', + Jus' settin' round home-- + An' lyin'. + + + + +"Ardelia in Arcady"[E] + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon and Grace Kellam._) + + [From "The Madness of Philip," by Josephine Dodge Daskam. + McClure, Phillips & Co.] + + +When first the young lady from the College Settlement dragged Ardelia +from her degradation, she was sitting on a dirty pavement and throwing +assorted refuse at an unconscious policeman. + +"Come here, little girl," said the young lady, invitingly. "Wouldn't +you like to come with me and have a nice, cool bath?" + +"Naw," said Ardelia, in tones rivaling the bath in coolness. + +"You wouldn't? Well, wouldn't you like some bread and butter and jam?" + +"Wha's jam?" + +"Why, it's--er--marmalade. All sweet, you know." + +"Naw!" + +"I thought you might like to go on a picnic," said the young lady, +helplessly. "I thought all little girls liked--" + +"Picnic? When?" cried Ardelia, moved instantly to interest. "I'm goin'! +Is it the Dago picnic?" + +The young lady shuddered, and seizing the hand which she imagined to +have had the least to do with the refuse, she led Ardelia away--the +first stage of her journey to Arcady. + +Later arrayed in starched and creaking garments which had been made for +a slightly smaller child, Ardelia was transported to the station, and +for the first time introduced to a railroad car. She sat stiffly on the +red plush seat while the young lady talked reassuringly of daisies and +cows and green grass. As Ardelia had never seen any of these things, it +is hardly surprising that she was somewhat unenthusiastic. + +"You can roll in the daisies, my dear, and pick all you want--all!" she +urged eagerly. + +"Aw right," she answered, guardedly. + +The swelteringly hot day, and the rapid unaccustomed motion combined to +afflict her with a strange internal anticipation of future woe. Once +last summer, when she ate the liquid dregs of the ice-cream man's great +tin, and fell asleep in the room where her mother was frying onions, she +had experienced this same foreboding, and the climax of that dreadful +day lingered yet in her memory. + +At last they stopped. The young lady seized her hand, and led her +through the narrow aisle, down the steep steps, across the little +country station platform, and Ardelia was in Arcady. + +A bare-legged boy in blue overalls and a wide straw hat then drove them +many miles along a hot, dusty road, that wound endlessly through the +parched country fields. Finally they turned into a driveway, and drew up +before a gray wooden house. A spare, dark-eyed woman in a checked apron +advanced to meet them. + +"Terrible hot to-day, ain't it?" she sighed. "I'm real glad to see you, +Miss Forsythe. Won't you cool off a little before you go on? This is the +little girl, I s'pose. I guess it's pretty cool to what she's accustomed +to, ain't it, Delia?" + +"No, I thank you, Mrs. Slater. I'll go right on to the house. Now, +Ardelia, here you are in the country. I'm staying with my friend in a +big white house about a quarter of a mile farther on. You can't see it +from here, but if you want anything you can just walk over. Day after +to-morrow is the picnic I told you of. You'll see me then, anyway. Now +run right out in the grass and pick all the daisies you want. Don't be +afraid; no one will drive you off this grass!" + +The force of this was lost on Ardelia, who had never been driven off any +grass whatever, but she gathered that she was expected to walk out into +the thick rank growth of the unmowed side yard, and strode downward +obediently. + +"Now pick them! Pick the daisies!" cried Miss Forsythe, excitedly. "I +want to see you." + +Ardelia looked blank. + +"Huh?" she said. + +"Gather them. Get a bunch. Oh, you poor child! Mrs. Slater, she doesn't +know how!" Miss Forsythe was deeply moved and illustrated by picking +imaginary daisies on the porch. Ardelia's quick eye followed her +gestures, and stooping, she scooped the heads from three daisies and +started back with them. Miss Forsythe gasped. + +"No, no, dear! Pull them up! Take the stem, too," she explained. "Pick +the whole flower." + +Ardelia bent over again, tugged at a thick-stemmed clover, brought it +up by the roots, and laid it awkwardly on the young lady's lap. + +"Thank you, dear," she said, politely, "but I meant them for you. +I meant you to have a bunch. Don't you want them?" + +"Naw," said Ardelia, decidedly. + +Miss Forsythe's eyes brightened suddenly. + +"I know what you want," she cried, "you're thirsty! Mrs. Slater, won't +you get us some of your good, creamy milk? Don't you want a drink, +Ardelia?" + +Ardelia nodded. When Mrs. Slater appeared with the foaming yellow +glasses she wound her nervous little hands about the stem of the goblet +and drank a deep draught. + +"There!" cried the young lady. "Now, how do you like real milk, Ardelia? +I declare you look like another child already! You can have all you want +every day--why, what's the matter?" + +For Ardelia was growing ghastly pale before them; her eyes turned +inward, her lips tightened. A blinding horror surged from her toes +upward, and the memory of the liquid ice-cream and the frying onions +faded before the awful reality of her present agony. + +Later, as she lay limp and white on the slippery haircloth sofa in +Mrs. Slater's musty parlor she heard them discussing her situation. + +"There was a lot of Fresh-Air children over at Mis' Simms's," her +hostess explained, "and they 'most all of 'em said the milk was too +strong--did you ever! Two or three of 'em was sick, like this one, but +they got to love it in a little while. She will, too." + +Ardelia shook her head feebly. In a few minutes she was asleep. When +she awoke all was dusk and shadow. She felt scared and lonely. Now that +her stomach was filled and her nerves refreshed by her long sleep, she +was in a condition to realize that aside from all bodily discomfort +she was sad--very sad. A new, unknown depression weighed her down. +It grew steadily, something was happening, something constant and +mournful--what? Suddenly she knew. It was a steady, recurrent noise, a +buzzing, monotonous click. Now it rose, now it fell, accentuating the +silence dense about it. + +"Zig-a-zig! Zig-a-zig!" then a rest. + +"Zig-a-zig! Ziz-a-zig-a-zig!" + +"Wha's 'at?" she said. + +"That? Oh, those are katydids. I s'pose you never heard 'em, that's a +fact. Kind o' cozy, I think. Don't you like 'em?" + +"Naw." + +Another long silence intervened. Mr. Slater snored, William smoked, and +the monotonous clamor was uninterrupted. + +"Zig-a-zig! Zig-zig! Zig-a-zig-a-zig!" + +Slowly, against the background of this machine-like clicking, there grew +other sounds, weird, unhappy, far away. + +"Wheep, wheep, wheep!" + +This was a high, thin crying. + +"Burrom! Burrom! Brown!" + +This was low and resonant and solemn. Ardelia scowled. + +"Wha's 'at?" she asked again. + +"That's the frogs. Bull-frogs and peepers. Never heard them, either, did +ye? Well, that's what they are." + +William took his pipe out of his mouth. + +"Come here, sissy, 'n I'll tell y' a story," he said, lazily. + +Ardelia obeyed, and glancing timorously at the shadows, slipped around +to his side. + +"Onc't they was an' ol' feller comin' 'long crosslots, late at night, +an' he come to a pond, an' he kinder stopped up an' says to himself, +'Wonder how deep the ol' pond is, anyhow?' He was just a leetle--well, +he'd had a drop too much, y' see--" + +"Had a what?" interrupted Ardelia. + +"He was sort o' rollin' 'round--he didn't know just what he was doin'--" + +"Oh! Jagged!" said Ardelia, comprehendingly. + +"I guess so. An' he heard a voice singin' out, 'Knee deep! Knee deep! +Knee deep.'" + +William gave a startling imitation of the peepers; his voice was a high, +shrill wail. + +"'Oh, well,' s' he, ''f it's just knee deep, I'll wade through,' an' he +starts in. + +"Just then he hears a big feller singin' out, 'Better go rrround! Better +gorrround! Better gorrround!' + +"'Lord,' says he, 'is it s' deep 's that? Well, I'll go round then.' +'N' off he starts to walk around. + +"'Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep!' says the peepers. + +"An' there it was. Soon's he'd start to do one thing they'd tell him +another. Make up his mind he couldn't, so he stands there still, they +do say, askin' 'em every night which he better do." + +"Stands where?" + +"Oh, I d' know. Out in the swamp, mebbe." + +Again he smoked. Time passed by. + +Suddenly Mr. Slater coughed and arose. "Well, guess I'll be gettin' to +bed," he said. "Come on, boys. Hello, little girl! Come to visit us, +hey? Mind you don't pick poison vine." + +Mrs. Slater led Ardelia upstairs into a little hot room, and told her +to get into bed quick, for the lamp drew the mosquitoes. + +Ardelia kicked off her shoes and approached the bed distrustfully. It +sank down with her weight and smelled hot and queer. Rolling off she +stretched herself on the floor, and lay there disconsolately. At home +the hurdy-gurdy was playing, the women were gossiping on every step, the +lights were everywhere--the blessed fearless gas lights--and the little +girls were dancing in the breeze that drew in from East River. + +In the morning Miss Forsythe came over to inquire after her charge's +health, accompanied by another young lady. + +"Why, Ethel, she isn't barefoot!" she cried. "Come here, Ardelia, and +take off your shoes and stockings directly. Shoes and stockings in the +country! Now, you'll know what comfort is." + +To patter about bare-legged on the clear, safe pavement, was one thing; +to venture unprotected into that waving, tripping tangle was another. +Ardelia stepped cautiously upon the short grass near the house, and with +jaw set felt her way into the higher growth. Suddenly she stopped; she +shrieked: + +"Oh, gee! Oh, gee!" + +"What is it, Ardelia; what is it? A snake?" Mrs. Slater rushed out, +seized Ardelia, half rigid with fear, and carried her to the porch. They +elicited from her as she sat with feet tucked under her that something +had rustled by her "down at the bottom"--that it was slippery, that she +had stepped on it, and wanted to go home. + +"Toad," explained Mrs. Slater, briefly. "Only a little hop-toad, Delia, +that wouldn't harm a baby, let alone a big girl nine years old, like you." + +"She's a queer child," Mrs. Slater confided to the young ladies. "Not a +drop of anything will she drink but cold tea. It don't seem reasonable +to give it to her all day, and I won't do it, so she has to wait till +meals. She makes a face if I say milk, and the water tastes slippery, +she says, and salty-like. She won't touch it. I tell her it's good +well-water, but she just shakes her head. She's stubborn 's a bronze +mule, that child. Just mopes around. 'S morning she asked me when did +the parades go by. I told her there wa'n't any, but the circus, an' that +had been already. I tried to cheer her up, sort of, with that Fresh-Air +picnic of yours to-morrow, Miss Forsythe, an s'she, 'Oh, the Dago +picnic,' s'she, 'will they have Tong's band?'" + +"She don't seem to take any int'rest in th' farm, like those Fresh-Air +children, either. I showed her the hens an' the eggs, an' she said it +was a lie about the hens layin' 'em. 'What d' you take me for?' s'she. +The idea! Then Henry milked the cow, to show her--she wouldn't believe +that, either--and with the milk streamin' down before her, what do you +s'pose she said? 'You put it in!' s'she. I never should a' believed +that, Miss Forsythe, if I hadn't heard it." + +"Oh, she'll get over it; just wait a few days. Good-bye, Ardelia. Eat +a good supper." + +But this Ardelia did not do. Mr. Slater ate in voracious silence. +William never spoke, and Mrs. Slater filled their plates without +comment. Ardelia had never in her life eaten in silence. Through the +open door the buzz of the katydids was beginning tentatively. In the +intervals of William's gulps a faint bass note warned them from the +swamp. + +"Better gorrround! Better gorrround!" + +Ardelia's nerves strained and snapped. Her eyes grew wild. + +"Fer Gawd's sake, talk!" she cried, sharply. "Are youse dumbies?" + + * * * * * + +The morning dawned fresh and fair; the homely barnyard noises brought a +smile to Miss Forsythe's sympathetic face, as she waited for Ardelia to +join her in a drive to the station. But Ardelia did not smile. + +At the station Miss Forsythe shook her limp little hand. + +"Good-bye, dear. I'll bring the other little children back with me. +You'll enjoy that. Good-bye." + +"I'm comin', too," said Ardelia. + +"Why--no, dear--you wait for us. You'd only turn around and come right +back, you know." + +"Come, back nothin'. I'm goin' home." + +"Why--why, Ardelia! Don't you really like it?" + +"Naw, it's too hot." + +Miss Forsythe stared. + +"But Ardelia, you don't want to go back to that horribly smelly street? +Not truly?" + +"Betcher life I do!" + +"It's so lonely and quiet," pleaded the young lady. Ardelia shuddered. +Again she seemed to hear that fiendish, mournful wailing: + +"Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep!" + +They rode in silence. But the jar and jolt of the engine made music in +Ardelia's ears; the familiar jargon of the newsboy: + +"N' Yawk evening paypers! Woyld! Joynal!" was a breath from home to her +little cockney heart. + +They pushed through the great station, they climbed the steps of the +elevated track, they jingled on a cross-town car. And at a familiar +corner Ardelia slipped loose her hand, uttered a grunt of joy, and Miss +Forsythe looked after her in vain. She was gone. + +But late in the evening, when the great city turned out to breathe, and +sat with opened shirt and loosened bodice on the dirty steps; when the +hurdy-gurdy executed brassy scales and the lights flared in endless +sparkling rows; when the trolley gongs at the corner pierced the air, +and feet tapped cheerfully down the cool stone steps of the beer-shop, +Ardelia, bare-footed and abandoned, nibbling at a section of bologna +sausage, cake-walked insolently with a band of little girls behind a +severe policeman, mocking his stolid gait, to the delight of Old Dutchy, +who beamed approvingly at her prancing. + +"Ja, ja, you trow out your feet good. Some day we pay to see you, no? +You like to get back already!" + +"Ja, danky slum, Dutchy," she said airily, as she sank upon her cool +step, stretched her toes and sighed: + +"Gee! N' Yawk's the place!" + + +[E] Copyright, 1902, by McClure, Phillips & Co. + + + + +Meriel + +BY MARGARET HOUSTON. + +(From _Ainslee's Magazine_.) + + + "Let go my hand!" (A start of quick surprise.) + "How could you dare?" (A flash of angry eyes.) + And yet her hand in mine all passive lies. + + "How rude you are!" (The rose-blush fully blown.) + "I trusted you!" ('Twould melt a heart of stone.) + And yet the little hand rests in mine own! + + Oh, dainty Meriel--little April day! + However warmly pouting lips cry Nay, + That little hand shall rest in mine--alway! + + + + +The Old Man and "Shep" + +(A true story.) + +BY JOHN G. SCORER. + + +It was on the morning of the second day of the new year. The mercury +hovered a few degrees above zero. The winds that swept down from the +North were keen and biting, and the mist-like snow fell fitfully. An old +man, his once tall form bent by the burdens and sorrows of sixty odd +years, his step slow and shuffling, his clothes unkempt and tattered, +his long beard flowing down upon his breast, his eye still bright and in +his face lingering traces of refinement, made his way along the deserted +street. He was accompanied by a dog, whose long, shaggy hair indicated a +blooded ancestry. So emaciated was his form that even through his shaggy +coat could be seen the outline of his bony frame. + +The two, master and dog, hobbled into the city's out-door relief +department. The dog at once curled himself up on a rug near a radiator +and was soon asleep, dreaming, perchance, of other and more prosperous +days, with "a virtuous kennel and plenty of food." The old man stood for +a time warming his benumbed fingers at the radiator. Presently one of +the clerks approached and asked him who he was and what he wanted. + +"I am John Owens," he replied; "and I want to go to the infirmary. I am +ill, homeless and penniless." + +"All right, my man," said the clerk, and at once wrote out a permit. + +The old man took the permit, read it over carefully, and said: "It says +nothing about the dog. I want one for the dog, too." + +"We can't give you one for the dog; we have no place out there for him. +You'll have to leave him behind." + +"Leave my dog behind? No, sir," said the old fellow, straightening up +his bent form. "He's the only friend I have in this world. Why old +'Shep' has been my only friend for the last eight years. I had money, +friends and influence when he was a pup, and he had a better bed and +better food then than I have had for many a year. I had my carriages +once, and a man to drive them, too. I know it sounds strange, now. +Sometimes it seems like a dream. But never mind. When I woke up from +that dream I had only my wife Martha, my son George, and 'Shep.' Every +one else turned from me. + +"My wife was a good, brave soul, but our reverses broke her down, and on +one spring day we laid her away beneath the daisies and the myrtle. Soon +after that my son George was taken from me by that stern monster, death, +leaving me alone--alone, with no friend but 'Shep.' + +"Where do I sleep? Why, my boy, anywhere. You don't know how many warm +stairways there are. 'Shep' and I do, though, and we curl up together in +them when the officer on the beat isn't looking. Yes, poor fellow, he's +lame; had his leg broken. He got that trying to keep me out of the way +of a coal wagon two years ago, when I slipped on the icy street. + +"Here's your permit, mister. I won't go out there unless 'Shep' goes +with me. He can't? Well, good-bye, good-bye, sir. Come on, 'Shep.' You +can't stay there all day. Just as much obliged," and the two passed out +into the cold again. + + + + +Who Knows + + + The Lily lifts to mine her nunlike face, + But my wild heart is beating for the Rose; + How can I pause to behold the Lily's grace? + Shall I repent me by and by? Who knows? + + --_Louise Chandler Moulton_. + + + + +The Negro + +BY BOOKER T. WASHINGTON. + + (Adapted from the speech delivered at the opening of the Atlanta + Exposition.) + + +One-third of the population of the South is of the negro race. No +enterprise seeking the material, civil, or moral welfare of this section +can disregard this element of our population and reach the highest +success. I but convey to you, Mr. President and directors, the sentiment +of the masses of my race when I say that in no way have the value +and manhood of the American negro been more fittingly and generously +recognized than by the managers of this magnificent Exposition at every +stage of its progress. It is a recognition that will do more to cement +the friendship of the two races than any occurrence since the dawn of +our freedom. + +Not only this, but the opportunity here afforded will awaken among us +a new era of industrial progress. Ignorant and inexperienced, it is +not strange that in the first years of our new life we began at the top +instead of at the bottom; that a seat in Congress or a State legislature +was more sought than real estate or industrial skill; that the political +convention or stump speaking had more attractions than starting a dairy +farm or truck garden. + +A ship lost at sea for many days suddenly sighted a friendly vessel. +From the mast of the unfortunate vessel was seen a signal, "Water, +water; we die of thirst!" The answer from the friendly vessel at once +came back, "Cast down your bucket where you are." A second time the +signal, "Water, water; send us water!" ran up from the distressed +vessel, and was answered, "Cast down your bucket where you are." And a +third and fourth signal for water was answered, "Cast down your bucket +where you are." The captain of the distressed vessel at last, heeding +the injunction, cast down his bucket, and it came up full of fresh, +sparkling water from the mouth of the Amazon River. To those of my +race who depend on bettering their condition in a foreign land or who +underestimate the importance of cultivating friendly relations with the +Southern white man, who is their next-door neighbor, I would say: "Cast +down your bucket where you are." Cast it down in making friends in every +manly way of the people of all races by whom we are surrounded. + +Cast it down in agriculture, mechanics, in commerce, in domestic +service, and in the professions. And in this connection it is well to +bear in mind that whatever other sins the South may be called to bear, +when it comes to business, pure and simple, it is in the South that the +negro is given a man's chance in the commercial world, and in nothing +is this Exposition more eloquent than in emphasizing this chance. Our +greatest danger is that in the great leap from slavery to freedom we may +overlook the fact that the masses of us are to live by the productions +of our hands, and fail to keep in mind that we shall prosper in +proportion as we learn to dignify and glorify common labor and put +brains and skill into the common occupations of life; shall prosper in +proportion as we learn to draw the line between the superficial and the +substantial, the ornamental gewgaws of life and the useful. No race can +prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field +as in writing a poem. It is at the bottom of life we must begin, and not +at the top. Nor should we permit our grievances to overshadow our +opportunities. + +To those of the white race who look to the incoming of those of foreign +birth and strange tongues and habits for the prosperity of the South, +were I permitted I would repeat what I say to my own race, "Cast down +your bucket where you are." Cast it down among the eight millions +of negroes whose habits you know, whose fidelity and love you have +tested in days when to have proved treacherous meant the ruin of your +firesides. Cast down your bucket among these people who have, without +strikes and labor wars, tilled your fields, cleared your forests, +builded your railroads and cities, and brought forth treasure from +the bowels of the earth, and helped make possible this magnificent +representation of the progress of the South. Casting down your buckets +among my people, helping and encouraging them as you are doing on these +grounds, and to education of head, hand, and heart, you will find that +they will buy your surplus land, make blossom the waste places in your +fields, and run your factories. While doing this you can be sure in the +future as in the past, that you and your families will be surrounded by +the most patient, faithful, law-abiding and unresentful people that the +world has seen. As we have proved our loyalty to you in the past, in +nursing your children, watching by the sick-bed of your mothers and +fathers, and often following them with tear-dimmed eyes to the graves, +so in the future, in our humble way, we shall stand by you with a +devotion that no foreigner can approach, ready to lay down our lives, +if need be, in defence of yours, interlacing our industrial, commercial, +civil and religious life with yours in a way that shall make the +interests of both races one. In all things that are purely social we +can be as separate as the fingers, yet one as the hand in all things +essential to mutual progress. + +There is no defence or security for any of us except in the highest +intelligence and development of all. If anywhere there are efforts +tending to curtail the fullest growth of the negro, let these efforts be +turned into stimulating, encouraging, and making him the most useful and +intelligent citizen. Efforts or means so invested will pay a thousand +per cent. interest. These efforts will be twice blessed--"blessing him +that gives and him that takes." + +Nearly sixteen millions of hands will aid you in pulling the load +upward, or they will pull against you the load downward. We shall +constitute one-third and more of the ignorance and crime of the South, +or one-third of its intelligence and progress; we shall contribute +one-third to the business and industrial prosperity of the South, or +we shall prove a veritable body of death, stagnating, repressing, +retarding every effort to advance the body politic. + +The wisest among my race understand that the agitation of questions +of social equality is the extremest folly, and that progress in the +enjoyment of all the privileges that will come to us must be the result +of severe and constant struggle rather than of artificial forcing. No +race that has anything to contribute to the markets of the world is long +in any degree ostracized. It is important and right that all privileges +of the law be ours, but it is vastly more important that we be prepared +for the exercise of these privileges. The opportunity to earn a dollar +in a factory just now is worth infinitely more than the opportunity to +spend a dollar in an opera-house. + +Here bending, as it were, over the altar that represents the struggles +of your race and mine, both starting practically empty-handed three +decades ago, I pledge that in your effort to work out the great and +intricate problem which God has laid at the doors of the South, you +shall have at all times the patient, sympathetic help of my race; only +let this be constantly in mind, that, while from representations in +these buildings of the product of field, of forest, of mine, of factory, +letters and art, much good will come, yet far above and beyond material +benefits will be that higher good, that, let us pray God, will come, +in a blotting out of sectional differences and racial animosities and +suspicions, in a determination to administer absolute justice, in a +willing obedience among all classes to the mandates of the law. This, +this, coupled with our material prosperity, will bring into our beloved +South a new heaven and a new earth. + + + + +The Guillotine + +BY VICTOR HUGO. + + (This is a part of the speech in defense of his son, under the + circumstances set forth in the oration.) + + +Gentlemen of the jury, if there is a culprit here, it is not my +son,--it is I!--I, who for these twenty-five years have opposed capital +punishment,--have contended for the inviolability of human life,--have +committed this crime for which my son is now arraigned. Here I denounce +my self, Mr. Advocate-General! I have committed it under all aggravated +circumstances; deliberately, repeatedly, tenaciously. Yes, this old and +absurd _lex taliones_--this law of blood for blood--I have combated all +my life--all my life, gentlemen of the jury! And, while I have breath, +I will continue to combat it, by all my efforts as a writer, by all +my words and all my votes as a legislator! I declare it before the +crucifix; before that Victim of the penalty of death, who sees and +hears us; before that gibbet, in which, two thousand years ago, for the +eternal instruction of the generations, the human law nailed the divine! + +In all that my son has written on the subject of capital punishment and +for writing and publishing which he is now on trial--in all that he has +written, he has merely proclaimed the sentiments with which, from his +infancy, I have inspired him. Gentlemen jurors, the right to criticise +a law, and to criticise it severely--especially a penal law--is placed +beside the duty of amelioration, like the torch beside the work under +the artisan's hand. The right of the journalist is as sacred, as +necessary, as imprescriptible, as the right of the legislator. + +What are the circumstances? A man, a convict, a sentenced wretch, is +dragged, on a certain morning, to one of our public squares. There he +finds the scaffold! He shudders, he struggles, he refuses to die. He is +young yet--only twenty-nine. Ah! I know what you will say,--"He is a +murderer!" But hear me. Two officers seize him. His hands, his feet are +tied. He throws off the two officers. A frightful struggle ensues. His +feet, bound as they are, become entangled in the ladder. He uses the +scaffold against the scaffold! The struggle is prolonged. Horror seizes +the crowd! The officers,--sweat and shame on their brows,--pale, +panting, terrified, despairing,--despairing with I know not what +horrible despair,--shrinking under that public reprobation which ought +to have visited the penalty, and spared the passive treatment, the +executioner,--the officers strive savagely. The victim clings to the +scaffold and shrieks for pardon. His clothes are torn,--his shoulders +bloody,--still he resists. At length, after three-quarters of an hour +of this monstrous effort, of this spectacle without a name, of this +agony,--agony for all, be it understood,--agony for the assembled +spectators as well as for the condemned man,--after this age of anguish, +gentlemen of the jury, they take back the poor wretch to his prison. + +The People breathe again. The People, naturally merciful, hope that +the man will be spared. But no,--the guillotine, though vanquished, +remains standing. There it frowns all day, in the midst of a sickened +population. And at night the officers, re-enforced, drag forth the +wretch again, so bound that he is but an inert weight,--they drag him +forth, haggard, bloody, weeping, pleading, howling for life,--calling +upon God, calling upon his father and mother,--for like a very child +had this man become in the prospect of death,--they drag him forth to +execution. He is hoisted on the scaffold and his head falls! And then +through every conscience runs a shudder. Never had legal murder appeared +with an aspect so indecent, so abominable. All feel jointly implicated +in the deed. It is at this very moment that from a young man's breast +escapes a cry, wrung from his very heart,--a cry of pity and anguish,--a +cry of horror,--a cry of humanity. And this cry you would punish! And in +the face of the appalling facts which I have narrated, you would say to +the guillotine, "Thou art right!" and to Pity, saintly Pity, "Thou art +wrong!" Gentlemen of the jury, it cannot be! Gentlemen, I have finished. + + + + +Robespierre's Last Speech + +BY MAXIMILIAN MARIE ISIDORE DE ROBESPIERRE. + + [Before his execution, Robespierre addressed the populace of + Paris in part as follows:] + + +The enemies of the Republic call me tyrant! Were I such, they would +grovel at my feet. I should gorge them with gold, I should grant them +immunity for their crimes, and they would be grateful. Were I such, the +kings we have vanquished, far from denouncing Robespierre, would lend +me their guilty support; there would be a covenant between them and me. +Tyranny must have tools. But the enemies of tyranny,--whither does their +path tend? To the tomb, and to immortality! What tyrant is my protector? +To what faction do I belong? Yourselves! What faction since the +beginning of the Revolution, has crushed and annihilated so many +detected traitors? You, the people, our principles, are that faction--a +faction to which I am devoted, and against which all the scoundrelism of +the day is banded! + +The confirmation of the Republic has been my object; and I know that +the Republic can be established only on the eternal basis of morality. +Against me, and against those who hold kindred principles, the league is +formed. My life? Oh! my life I abandon without a regret. I have seen the +past; and I foresee the future. What friend of this country would wish +to survive the moment when he could no longer serve it,--when he could +no longer defend innocence against oppression? Wherefore should I +continue in an order of things where intrigue eternally triumphs over +truth; where justice is mocked; where passions the most abject, or +fears the most absurd, over-ride the sacred interests of humanity? In +witnessing the multitude of vices which the torrent of the Revolution +has rolled in turbid communion with its civic virtues, I confess that +I have sometimes feared that I should be sullied, in the eyes of +posterity, by the impure neighborhood of unprincipled men, who had +thrust themselves into association with the sincere friends of humanity; +and I rejoice that these conspirators against my country have now, by +their reckless rage, traced deep the line of demarcation between +themselves and all true men. + +Question history, and learn how all the defenders of liberty, in all +times, have been overwhelmed by calumny. But their traducers died +also. The good and the bad disappear alike from the earth; but in +very different conditions. O Frenchmen! O my countrymen! Let not your +enemies, with their desolating doctrines, degrade your souls and +enervate your virtues! No, Chaumette, no! Death is not "an eternal +sleep"! Citizens, efface from the tomb that motto, graven by +sacrilegious hands, which spreads over all nature a funereal crape, +takes from suppressed innocence its support, and affronts the +beneficent dispensation of death! Inscribe rather thereon these words: +"Death is the commencement of immortality!" I leave to the oppressors +of the People a terrible testament, which I proclaim with the +independence befitting one whose career is so nearly ended; it is +the awful truth,--"Thou shalt die!" + + + + +Secession + +BY ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS. + + [Delivered at the Georgia State Convention, January, 1861.] + + +Mr. President: This step of secession, once taken, can never be +recalled, and all the baleful and withering consequences that must +follow will rest on the convention for all coming time. When we and our +posterity shall see our lovely South desolated by the demon of war, +which this act of yours will inevitably invite and call forth; when our +green fields of waving harvest shall be trodden down by the murderous +soldiery and fiery car sweeping over our land; our temples of justice +laid in ashes; all the horrors and desolation of war upon us; who but +this convention will be held responsible for it? And who but him who +shall have given his vote for this unwise and ill-timed measure, as I +honestly think and believe, shall be held to strict account for this +suicidal act by the present generation, and probably cursed and +execrated by posterity for all coming time, for the wide and desolating +ruin that will inevitably follow this act you now propose to perpetrate? +Pause, I entreat you, and consider for a moment what reasons you can +give that will even satisfy yourselves in calmer moments--what reasons +you can give to your fellow-sufferers in the calamity that it will +bring upon us. What reasons can you give to the nations of the earth to +justify it? They will be calm and deliberate judges in the case; and +what cause or one overt act can you name or point, on which to rest the +plea of justification? What right has the North assailed? What interest +of the South has been invaded? What justice has been denied? And what +claim founded in justice and right has been withheld? Can either of you +to-day name one governmental act of wrong, deliberately and purposely +done by the government of Washington, of which the South has a right to +complain? I challenge the answer. While, on the other hand, let me show +the facts (and believe me, gentlemen, I am not here, the advocate of +the North; but I am here the friend, the firm friend, and lover of the +South and her institutions, and for this reason I speak thus plainly and +faithfully, for yours, mine, and every other man's interest, the words +of truth and soberness), of which I wish you to judge, and I will only +state facts which are clear and undeniable, and which now stand as +records authentic in the history of our country. When we of the South +demanded the slave-trade, or the importation of Africans for the +cultivation of our lands, did they not yield the right for twenty years? +When we asked a three-fifths representation in Congress for our slaves, +was it not granted? When we asked and demanded the return of any +fugitive from justice, or the recovery of those persons owing labor or +allegiance, was it not incorporated in the Constitution, and again +ratified and strengthened by the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850? But do you +reply that in many instances they have violated this compact and have +not been faithful to their engagements? As individuals and local +communities they may have done so; but not by the sanction of +government; for that has always been true to Southern interests. Again, +gentlemen, look at another act; when we have asked that more territory +should be added, that we might spread the institution of slavery, have +they not yielded to our demands in giving us Louisiana, Florida and +Texas, out of which four States have been carved, and ample territory +for four more to be added in due time, if you, by this unwise and +impolitic act, do not destroy this hope, and perhaps by it lose all, +and have your last slave wrenched from you by stern military rule, as +South American and Mexican were; or by the vindictive decree of a +universal emancipation which may reasonably be expected to follow. + +But, again, gentlemen, what have we to gain by this proposed change of +our relation to the general government? We have always had the control +of it, and can yet, if we remain in it, and are as united as we have +been. We have had a majority of the Presidents chosen from the South, +as well as the control and management of most of those chosen from +the North. We have had sixty years of Southern Presidents to their +twenty-four, thus controlling the executive department. So, of the +judges of the Supreme Court, we have had eighteen from the South and +but eleven from the North, although nearly four-fifths of the judicial +business has arisen in the free States, yet a majority of the court +has always been from the South. This we have acquired so as to guard +against any interpretation of the Constitution unfavorable to us. In +like manner we have been equally watchful to guard our interests in the +legislative branch of government. In choosing the presiding presidents +(pro tem.) of the Senate, we have had twenty-four to their eleven. +Speakers of the House we have had twenty-three, and they twelve. While +the majority of the representatives, from their greater population, +have always been from the North, yet we have so generally secured +the Speaker, because he, to a great extent, shapes and controls the +legislation of the country. Nor have we had less control in every other +department of the general government. Attorney-generals we have had +fourteen, while the North have had but five. Foreign ministers we have +had eighty-six, and they but fifty-four. While three-fourths of the +business which demands diplomatic agents abroad is clearly from the free +States, from their greater commercial interest, yet we have had the +principal embassies, so as to secure the world-markets for our cotton, +tobacco and sugar on the best possible terms. We have had a vast +majority of the higher offices of both army and navy, while a larger +proportion of the soldiers and sailors were drawn from the North. +Equally so of clerks, auditors and comptrollers filling the executive +department; the records show, for the last fifty years, that of the +three thousand thus employed, we have had more than two-thirds of the +same, while we have but one-third of the white population of the +Republic. + +Again, look at another item, and one, be assured, in which we have a +great and vital interest; it is that of revenue, or means of supporting +government. From official documents we learn that a fraction over +three-fourths of the revenue collected for the support of the government +has uniformly been raised from the North. + +Pause now while you can, gentlemen, and contemplate carefully and +candidly these important items. Look at another necessary branch of +government, and learn from stern statistical facts how matters stand in +that department. I mean the mail and post-office privileges that we now +enjoy under the general government as it has been for years past. The +expense for the transportation of the mail in the free States was, by +the report of the Postmaster-General for the year 1860, a little over +$13,000,000, while the income was $19,000,000. But in the slave States +the transportation of the mail was $14,716,000, while the revenue from +the same was $8,001,026, leaving a deficit of $6,704,974 to be supplied +by the North for our accommodation, and without it we must have been +entirely cut off from this most essential branch of government. + +Leaving out of view, for the present, the countless millions of dollars +you must expend in a war with the North; with tens of thousands of your +sons and brothers slain in battle and offered up as sacrifices upon +the altar of your ambition--and for what, we ask again? Is it for +the overthrow of the American Government, established by our common +ancestry, cemented and built up by their sweat and blood, and founded on +the broad principles of right, justice and humanity? And as such, I must +declare here, as I have often done before, and which has been repeated +by the greatest and wisest of statesmen and patriots, in this and other +lands, that it is the best and freest government--the most equal in +its rights, the most just in its decisions, the most lenient in its +measures, and the most aspiring in its principles, to elevate the race +of men, that the sun of heaven ever shone upon. Now, for you to attempt +to overthrow such a government as this, under which we have lived for +more than three-quarters of a century--in which we have gained our +wealth, our standing as a nation, our domestic safety, while the +elements of peril are around us, with peace and tranquillity accompanied +with unbounded prosperity and rights unassailed--is the height of +madness, folly, and wickedness, to which I neither lend my sanction nor +my vote. + + + + +Birds + + + Birds are singing round my window, + Tunes the sweetest ever heard, + And I hang my cage there daily, + But I never catch a bird. + So with thoughts my brain is peopled, + And they sing there all day long; + But they will not fold their pinions + In the little cage of song! + + --_Richard Henry Stoddard_. + + + + +The Death of Hypatia + +BY CHARLES KINGSLEY. + + ["Hypatia was a mathematician of Alexandria, who taught her + students the philosophy of Plato. Orestes, governor of + Alexandria, admired the talents of Hypatia, and frequently + had recourse to her for advice. He was desirous of curbing the + too ardent zeal of St. Cyril, who saw in Hypatia one of the + principal supports of paganism. The most fanatical followers + of the bishop, in March, A.D. 415, seized upon Hypatia as she + was proceeding to her school, forced her to descend from her + chariot, and dragged her into a neighboring church, where she + was put to death by her brutal foes. Canon Kingsley's historical + romance has done much to make her name familiar to English + readers" (Classical Dictionary). Raphael Aben-Ezra, a former + pupil, converted to Christianity and returning to Alexandria, + seeks audience with Hypatia to tell her of the Nazarene. Broken + and discouraged, she still holds to her philosophy, but finally + consents to hear what Raphael has to say of Christianity. It is + almost time for her to lecture at the school, so she makes an + appointment for Raphael the following day. She sends him from + her until then with the words with which this cutting begins.] + + +"Yes, come.... The Galilean.... If he conquers strong men, can the weak +maid resist him? Come soon ... this afternoon.... My heart is breaking +fast." + +"At the eighth hour this afternoon?" asked Raphael. + +"Yes.... At noon I lecture ... take my farewell, rather, forever, of +the schools.... Gods! What have I to say?... And tell me about Him +of Nazareth. Farewell!" + +"Farewell, beloved lady! At the ninth hour you shall hear of Him of +Nazareth." + +As Raphael went down the steps into the street, a young man sprang from +behind one of the pillars and seized his arm. + +"Aha! my young Coryphæus of pious plunderers! What do you want with me?" + +Philammon, for it was he, looked at him an instant, and recognized him. + +"Save her! for the love of God, save her!" + +"Whom?" + +"Hypatia!" + +"How long has her salvation been important to you, my good friend?" + +"For God's sake," said Philammon, "go back and warn her! She will hear +you--you are rich--you used to be her friend--I know you--I have heard +of you.... Oh, if you ever cared for her--if you ever felt for her a +thousandth part of what I feel--go in and warn her not to stir from +home!" + +"Of what is she to be warned?" + +"Of a plot--I know that there is a plot--against her among the monks and +parabolani. As I lay in bed this morning in Arsenius' room they thought +I was asleep--" + +"Arsenius? Has that venerable fanatic, then, gone the way of all +monastic flesh, and turned persecutor?" + +"God forbid! I heard him beseeching Peter, the reader, to refrain from +something, I cannot tell what; but I caught her name.... I heard Peter +say, 'She that hindereth will hinder till she be taken out of the way.' +And when he went out in the passage I heard him say to another, 'That +thou doest, do quickly!'" + +"These are slender grounds, my friend." + +"Ah, you do not know of what these men are capable." + +"Do I not?" + +"I know the hatred which they bear her, the crimes which they attribute +to her. Her house would have been attacked last night had it not been +for Cyril.... And I knew Peter's tone. He spoke too gently and softly +not to mean something devilish. I watched all the morning for an +opportunity of escape, and here I am! Will you take my message, or +see her--" + +"What?" + +"God only knows, and the devil whom they worship instead of God." + +Raphael hurried back into the house. "Could he see Hypatia?" She had +shut herself up in her private room, strictly commanding that no visitor +should be admitted.... "Where was Theon, then?" He had gone out by the +canal gate half an hour before, and he hastily wrote on his tablet: + +"Do not despise the young monk's warning. I believe him to speak the +truth. As you love yourself and your father, Hypatia, stir not out +to-day." + +He bribed the maid to take the message up-stairs; and passed his time in +the hall in warning the servants. But they would not believe him. It was +true the shops were shut in some quarters, and the Museum gardens empty; +people were a little frightened after yesterday. But Cyril, they had +heard for certain, had threatened excommunication only last night to any +Christian who broke the peace; and there had not been a monk to be seen +in the streets the whole morning. And as for any harm happening to their +mistress--impossible! "The very wild beasts would not tear her," said +the huge negro porter, "if she were thrown into the amphitheater." + +Whereat the maid boxed his ears for talking of such a thing: and then, +by way of mending it, declared that she knew for certain that her +mistress could turn aside the lightning and call legions of spirits to +fight for her with a nod.... What was to be done with such idolaters. +And yet who could help liking them the better for it? + +At last the answer came down, in the old, graceful, studied, +self-conscious handwriting: + +"I dread nothing. They will not dare. Did they dare now, they would have +dared long ago. As for that youth--to obey or to believe his word, even +to seem aware of his existence, were shame to me henceforth. Because he +is insolent enough to warn me, therefore I will go. Fear not for me. You +would not wish me, for the first time in my life, to fear for myself. +I must follow my destiny. I must speak the words which I have to speak. +Above all, I must let no Christian say that the philosopher dared less +than the fanatic. If my gods are gods, then will they protect me; and if +not, let your God prove His rule as seems to Him good." + +Raphael tore the letter to fragments.... The guards, at least, were not +gone mad like the rest of the world. It wanted half an hour of the time +for her lecture. In the interval he might summon force enough to crush +all Alexandria. And turning suddenly, he darted out of the room and out +of the house. + +"Stay here and stop her! Make a last appeal," cried he to Philammon, +with a gesture of grief. "Drag the horses' heads down, if you can! I +will be back in ten minutes." And he ran off for the nearest gate of +the Museum gardens. + +On the other side of the gardens lay the courtyard of the palace. There +were gates in plenty communicating between them. If he could but see +Orestes, even alarm the guard in time!... + +And he hurried through the walks and alcoves, now deserted by the +fearful citizens, to the nearest gate. It was fast and barricaded firmly +on the outside. + +Terrified, he ran on to the next; it was barred also. He saw the reason +in a moment, and maddened as he saw it. The guards, careless about the +Museum, or reasonably fearing no danger from the Alexandrian populace +to the glory and wonder of their city, or perhaps wishing wisely enough +to concentrate their forces in the narrowest space, had contented +themselves with cutting off all communication with the gardens. At all +events, the doors leading from the Museum itself might be open. He +knew them, every one. He found an entrance, hurried through well-known +corridors to a postern through which he and Orestes had lounged a +hundred times. It was fast. He beat upon it; but no one answered. He +rushed on and tried another. No one answered there. Another--still +silence and despair!... He rushed up-stairs, hoping that from a window +above he might be able to call the guard. The prudent soldiers had +locked and barricaded the entrances to the upper floors of the whole +right wing, lest the palace court should be commanded from thence. +Whither now? Back--and whither then? And his breath failed him, his +throat was parched, his face burned as with the simoon wind, his legs +were trembling under him. His presence of mind, usually so perfect, +failed him utterly. He was baffled, netted. His brain, for the first +time in his life, began to reel. He could recollect nothing but that +something dreadful was to happen--and that he had to prevent it, and +could not.... Where was he now? In a little by-chamber. What was that +roar below?... A sea of weltering heads, thousands on thousands down +into the very beach; and from their innumerable throats one mighty +war-cry--"God, and the Mother of God!" Cyril's hounds were loose.... He +reeled from the window, and darted frantically away again ... whither, +he knew not, and never knew until his dying day. + +Philammon saw Raphael rush across the streets into the Museum gardens. +His last words had been a command to stay where he was, and the boy +obeyed him, quietly ensconced himself behind a buttress, and sat coiled +up on the pavement ready for a desperate spring. + +There Philammmon waited a full half-hour. It seemed to him hours, day, +years. And yet Raphael did not return; and yet no guards appeared. + +What meant that black knot of men some two hundred yards off, hanging +about the mouth of the side street, just opposite the door which led to +her lecture-room? He moved to watch them; they had vanished. He lay down +again and waited.... There they were again. It was a suspicious post. +That street ran along the back of the Cæsareum, a favorite haunt of +monks, communicating by innumerable entries and back buildings with the +great church itself.... He knew that something terrible was at hand. +More than once he looked out from his hiding place--the knot of men were +still there; ... it seemed to have increased, to draw nearer. If they +found him, what would they not suspect? What did he care? He would die +for her if it came to that--not that it would come to that; but still he +must speak to her--he must warn her. + +At last, a curricle, glittering with silver, rattled round the corner +and stopped opposite him. She must be coming now. The crowd had +vanished. Perhaps it was, after all, a fancy of his own. No; there +they were, peeping round the corner, close to the lecture-room--the +hell-hounds! A slave brought out an embroidered cushion, and then +Hypatia herself came forth, looking more glorious than ever; her lips +set in a sad, firm smile; her eyes uplifted, inquiring, eager, and yet +gentle, dimmed by some great inward awe, as if her soul were far away +aloft, and face to face with God. + +In a moment he sprang up to her, caught her robe convulsively, threw +himself on his knees before her. + +"Stop! Stay! You are going to destruction!" + +Calmly she looked down upon him. + +"Accomplice of witches! Would you make of Theon's daughter a traitor +like yourself?" + +He sprang up, stepped back, and stood stupefied with shame and +despair.... + +She believed him guilty then!... It was the will of God! + +The plumes of the horses were waving far down the street before he +recovered himself, and rushed after her, shouting he knew not what. + +It was too late! A dark wave of men rushed from the ambuscade, surged +up round the car, ... swept forward.... She had disappeared, and, as +Philammon followed breathless, the horses galloped past him madly +homeward with the empty carriage. + +Whither were they dragging her? To the Cæsareum, the church of God +Himself? Impossible! Why thither of all places of the earth? Why did +the mob, increasing momentarily by hundreds, pour down upon the beach, +and return brandishing flints, shells, fragments of pottery? + +She was upon the church steps before he caught them up, invisible among +the crowd; but he could track her by the fragments of her dress. + +Where were her gay pupils now? Alas! they had barricaded themselves +shamefully in the Museum at the first rush which swept her from the +door of the lecture-room. Cowards! He would save her. + +And he struggled in vain to pierce the dense mass of parabolani and +monks, who, mingled with the fish-wives and dock workers, leaped and +yelled around their victim. But what he could not do another and a +weaker did--even the little porter. Furiously--no one knew how or +whence--he burst up, as if from the ground in the thickest of the crowd, +with knife, teeth and nails, like a venomous wild-cat, tearing his way +toward his idol. Alas! he was torn down himself, rolled over the steps, +and lay there half dead in an agony of weeping, as Philammon sprang up +past him into the church. + +Yes! On into the church itself! Into the cool, dim shadow, with its +fretted pillars, and lowering domes, and candles, and incense, and +blazing altar, and great pictures looking down from the walls athwart +the gorgeous gloom. And right in front, above the altar, the colossal +Christ, watching unmoved from off the wall, his right hand raised to +give a blessing--or a curse! + +On, up the nave, fresh shreds of her dress strewing the holy +pavement--up the chancel steps themselves--up to the altar--right +underneath the great, still Christ; and there even those hell-hounds +paused.... + +She shook herself free from her tormentors, and, springing back, rose +for one moment to her full height, naked, snow-white against the dusky +mass around--shame and indignation in those wide, clear eyes, but not +a stain of fear. With one hand she clasped her golden locks around her, +the other long, white arm was stretched upward toward the great, still +Christ, appealing--and who dare say, in vain?--from man to God. Her +lips were opened to speak; but the words that should have come from them +reached God's ear alone; for in an instant Peter struck her down, the +dark mass closed over her again, ... and then wail on wail, long, wild, +ear-piercing, rang along the vaulted roofs, and thrilled like the +trumpet of avenging angels through Philammon's ears. + +Crushed against a pillar, unable to move in the dense mass, he pressed +his hands over his ears. He could not shut out those shrieks! When would +they end? What in the name of the God of mercy were they doing? Tearing +her piecemeal? Yes, and worse than that. And still the shrieks rang +on, and still the great Christ looked down on Philammon with that calm, +intolerable eye, and would not turn away. And over his head was written +in the rainbow, "I am the same, yesterday, to-day, and forever!" The +same as he was in Judæa of old, Philammon? Then what are these, and in +whose temple? And he covered his face with his hands and longed to die. + +It was over. The shrieks had died away into moans; the moans to silence. + + + + +"Death Stands Above Me." + + + Death stands above me, whispering low + I know not what into my ear; + Of this strange language all I know + Is, there is not a word of fear. + + --_Walter Savage Landor_. + + + + +The Tournament + +BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. + +(_Arranged by Maude Herndon._) + + [The scene from Ivanhoe is of the description of the grand + tournament, held by Prince John Lockland, at Ashby, in which + Robin Hood, under the disguise of Locksley, wins the prize for + his skill in archery.] + + +The sound of the trumpets soon recalled those spectators who had already +begun to leave the field; and proclamation was made that Prince John, +suddenly called by high and peremptory public duties, held himself +obliged to discontinue the entertainments of the morrow's festival. +Nevertheless, that, unwilling so many good yeomen should depart without +a trial of skill, he was pleased to appoint them, before leaving the +ground, to execute the competition of archery intended for the morrow. +To the best archer a prize was to be awarded, being a bugle-horn, +mounted with silver, and a silken baldric richly ornamented with a +medallion of St. Hubert, the patron of sylvan sport. + +More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors, +but when the archers understood with whom they were to be matched, +upwards to twenty withdrew themselves from the contest, unwilling to +encounter the dishonor of almost certain defeat. + +The diminished list of competitors for sylvan fame still amounted to +eight. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view the persons of +these chosen yeomen. He looked for the object of his resentment, whom +he observed standing on the same spot, and with the same composed +countenance which he had exhibited upon the preceding day. + +"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble thou wert +no true lover of the long-bow, and I see thou darest not adventure thy +skill among such merry-men as stand yonder." + +"Under favor, sir," replied the yeomen, "I have another reason for +refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace." + +"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John. + +"Because I know not if these yeomen and I are used to shoot at the same +marks; and because, moreover, I know not how your Grace might relish the +winning of a third prize by one who has unwillingly fallen under your +displeasure." + +"What is thy name, yeoman?" + +"Locksley," answered the yeoman. + +"Then Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when +these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, +I will add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt +be stript of thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with +bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart, and if thou refusest my +fair proffer, the Provost of the lists shall cut thy bowstring, break +thy bow and arrows, and expel thee from the presence as a faint-hearted +craven." + +"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud Prince, to compel me to +peril myself against the best archers of Leicester and Staffordshire, +under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. Nevertheless, +I will obey your pleasure." + +A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led +to the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the +bottom of the southern access; the distance between that station and the +mark allowing full distance for what was called a shot at rovers. The +archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, +were to shoot each three shafts in succession. + +One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts +yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows, shot in succession, ten +were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it, that, +considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. +Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were +shot by Hubert. + +"Now, Locksley," said Prince John, "wilt thou try conclusions with +Hubert, or wilt thou yield up bow, baldric, and quiver, to the Provost +of the sports?" + +"Sith it be no better, I am content to try my fortune; on condition that +when I have shot two shafts at yonder mark of Hubert's, he shall be +bound to shoot one at that which I propose." + +"That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused +thee. If thou beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle with +silver pennies for thee." + +The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size +placed in its room. Hubert took his aim with great deliberation, long +measuring the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand his +bended bow, with the arrow placed on the string. At length he made a +step forward, and raising the bow at the full stretch of his left arm, +till the centre or grasping place was nigh level with his face, he +drew his bow-string to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, +and lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in +the centre. + +"You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert, or that had been a better +shot." + +So saying, Locksley stept to the appointed station, and shot his arrow +as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. He +was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bow-string, +yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which +marked the centre, than that of Hubert. + +"By the light of heaven!" said Prince John to Hubert, "and thou suffer +that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!" + +"Shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be the worse for thee!" + +Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution +which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary +allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just arisen, and +shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the +target. + +"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known +person than in a stranger. + +"Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley," said the Prince with an +insulting smile. + +"I will notch his shaft for him, however," replied Locksley. + +And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it +lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. +"This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood," whispered the +yeomen to each other; "such archery was never seen since a bow was first +bent in Britain." + +"And now," said Locksley, "I will crave your Grace's permission to plant +such a mark as is used in the North Country; and welcome every brave +yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he +loves best." + +He then turned to leave the lists, but returned almost instantly with +a willow wand about six feet in length, perfectly straight, and rather +thicker than a man's thumb. He began to peel this with great composure, +observing at the same time that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a +target so broad as had hitherto been used, was to put shame upon his +skill. "A child of seven years old might hit yonder target with a +headless shaft, but," added he, walking deliberately to the other end +of the lists, and, sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he +that hits that rod five-score yards, I call him an archer fit to bear +both bow and quiver before a king, and it were the stout King Richard +himself." + +"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, +and never shot at such a mark in his life--and neither will I. I might +as well shoot at the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat straw, +or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see." + +"Cowardly dog!" said Prince John. "Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but, +if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did +so. Howe'er it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of +superior skill." + +"I will do my best, no man can do more." + +So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked +with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought +was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former +shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude +awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their +opinion of his skill; his arrow split the willow rod against which it +was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in +admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his +person. "These twenty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou +hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt +take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body guard, and be +near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so +true an eye direct a shaft." + +"Pardon me, noble Prince," said Locksley, "but I have vowed, that if +ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother, King Richard. +These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave +a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the +trial, he would have hit the wand as well as I." + +Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the +stranger; and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed +with the crowd, and was seen no more. + + + + +A Plea for the Old Year[F] + +BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. + + + I see the smiling New Year climb the heights-- + The clouds, his heralds, turn the sky to rose, + And flush the whiteness of the winter snows, + Till Earth is glad with Life and Life's delight. + The weary Old Year died when died the night, + And this newcomer, proud with triumph, shows + His radiant face, and each glad subject knows + The welcome monarch, born to rule aright. + + Yet there are graves far off that no man tends, + Where lie the vanished loves and hopes and fears, + The dreams that grew to be our hearts' best friends, + The smiles, and, dearer than the smiles, the tears-- + These were that Old Year's gifts, whom none defends, + Now his strong Conqueror, the New, appears. + + +[F] Copyright, 1899, by Little, Brown & Co. (Reprinted by permission.) + + + + +Fagin's Last Day + +(From Oliver Twist.) + +BY CHARLES DICKENS. + + [It will be remembered that Fagin was leader of a band of + thieves, and that little Oliver Twist had once been held in the + Jew's school for educating criminals. Through the influence of + Mr. Brownlow and some friends the kidnapped boy was rescued and + the Jew brought to justice.] + + +He sat down on a stone bench opposite the door, which served for a seat +and bedstead, and casting his bloodshot eyes upon the ground, tried +to collect his thoughts. After a while he began to remember a few +disjointed fragments of what the judge had said, though it had seemed +to him, at the time, that he could not hear a word. These gradually fell +into their proper places, and by degrees suggested more; so that in a +little time he had the whole almost as it was delivered. To be hanged +by the neck till he was dead--that was the end--to be hanged by the neck +till he was dead! + +As it came on very dark, he began to think of all the men he had known +who had died upon the scaffold, some of them through his means. They +rose up in such quick succession that he could hardly count them. He +had seen some of them die--and had joked, too, because they died with +prayers upon their lips. With what a rattling noise the drop went down, +and how suddenly they changed, from strong and vigorous men to dangling +heaps of clothes! + +Some of them might have inhabited that very cell--sat upon that very +spot. It was very dark; why didn't they bring a light? The cell had been +built for many years. Scores of men must have passed their last hours +there. It was like sitting in a vault strewn with dead bodies--the cap, +the noose, the pinioned arms, the faces that he knew, even beneath that +hideous veil. Light, light! + +At length, when his hands were raw with beating against the heavy door +and walls, two men appeared--one bearing a candle, which he thrust into +an iron candlestick fixed against the wall; the other dragging in a +mattress on which to pass the night, for the prisoner was to be left +alone no more. + +Then came night--dark, dismal, silent night. Other watchers are glad to +hear the church clock strike, for they tell of life and coming day. To +the Jew they brought despair. The boom of every iron bell came laden +with the one, deep, hollow sound--death! What availed the noise and +bustle of cheerful morning which penetrated even there to him? It was +another form of knell, with mockery added to the warning. + +The day passed off. Day? There was no day. It was gone as soon as come; +and night came on again--night so long, and yet so short; long in its +dreadful silence, and short in its fleeting hours. At one time he raved +and blasphemed, and at another howled and tore his hair. Venerable men +of his own persuasion had come to pray beside him, but he had driven +them away with curses. They renewed their charitable efforts, and he +beat them off. + +Saturday night. He had only one night more to live. And as he thought +of this the day broke--Sunday. + +It was not until the night of this last awful day that a withering sense +of his helpless, desperate state came in its full intensity upon his +blighted soul; not that he had ever held any defined or positive hope +of mercy, but that he had never been able to consider more than the dim +probability of dying so soon. He had spoken little to either two men, +who relieved each other in their attendance upon him; and they, for +their parts, made no effort to rouse his attention. He had sat there +awake, but dreaming. Now, he started up every minute, and with gasping +mouth and burning skin, hurried to and fro in such a paroxysm of fear +and wrath that even they--used to such sights--recoiled from him with +horror. He grew so terrible, at last, in all the tortures of his evil +conscience, that one man could not bear to sit there, eyeing him alone, +and so the two kept watch together. + +He cowed down upon his stone bed, and thought of the past. He had been +wounded with some missiles from the crowd on the day of his capture, +and his head was bandaged with a linen cloth. His red hair hung down +upon his bloodless face; his beard was torn, and twisted into knots; his +eyes shone with a terrible light; his unwashed flesh crackled with the +fever that burnt him up. Eight--nine--ten. If it was not a trick to +frighten him, and those were the real hours treading on each other's +heels, where would he be, when they came round again? Eleven! Another +struck, before the voice of the previous hour had ceased to vibrate. At +eight he would be the only mourner in his own funeral train; at eleven-- + +Those dreadful walls of Newgate, which have hidden so much misery and +such unspeakable anguish, not only from the eyes, but, too often and too +long, from the thoughts of men, never held so dread a spectacle as that. +The few who lingered as they passed, and wondered what the man was doing +who was to be hung to-morrow, would have slept but ill that night if +they could have seen him. + +From early in the evening until nearly midnight, little groups of two +and three presented themselves at the lodge-gate and inquired, with +anxious faces, whether any reprieve had been received. These being +answered in the negative, communicated the welcome intelligence to +clusters in the street, who pointed out to one another the door from +which he must come out, and showed where the scaffold would be built, +and walking with unwilling steps away, turned back to conjure up the +scene. By degrees they fell off, one by one; and, for an hour in the +dead of night, the street was left to solitude and darkness. + +The space before the prison was cleared, and a few strong barriers, +painted black, had been already thrown across the road to break the +pressure of the expected crowd, when Mr. Brownlow and Oliver appeared at +the wicket, and presented an order of admission to the prisoner, signed +by one of the sheriffs. They were immediately admitted into the lodge. + +The condemned criminal was seated on his bed, rocking himself from side +to side, with a countenance more like that of a snared beast than the +face of a man. His mind was evidently wandering to his old life, for +he continued to mutter, without appearing conscious of their presence +otherwise than as a part of his vision. + +"Good boy, Charley--well done," he mumbled; "Oliver, too, ha! ha! ha! +Oliver, too--quite the gentleman now--quite the--take that boy away to +bed!" + +The jailer took the disengaged hand of Oliver, and whispering him not +to be alarmed, looked on without speaking. + +"Take him away to bed!" cried the Jew. "Do you hear me, some of you? He +has been the--the--somehow the cause of all this. It's worth the money +to bring him up to it--Bolter's throat, Bill; never mind the +girl--Bolter's throat, as deep as you can cut. Saw his head off!" + +"Fagin," said the jailer. + +"That's me!" cried the Jew, falling instantly into the attitude of +listening he had assumed upon his trial. "An old man, my lord; a very +old, old man!" + +"Here," said the turnkey, laying his hand upon his breast to keep him +down--"here's somebody wants to see you--to ask you some questions, I +suppose. Fagin, Fagin! Are you a man?" + +"I shan't be one long," replied the Jew, looking up with a face +retaining no human expression but rage and terror. "Strike them all +dead! what right have they to butcher me?" + +As he spoke he caught sight of Oliver and Mr. Brownlow. Shrinking to +the farthest corner of the seat he demanded to know what they wanted +there. + +"Steady," said the turnkey, still holding him down. + +"Now, sir, tell him what you want--quick, if you please, for he grows +worse as the time gets on." + +"You have some papers," said Mr. Brownlow, advancing, "which were placed +in your hands for better security by a man called Monks." + +"It's all a lie together," replied the Jew. "I haven't one--not one." + +"For the love of God," said Mr. Brownlow, solemnly, "do not say that +now, upon the very verge of death, but tell me where they are. You know +that Sikes is dead, that Monks has confessed, that there is no hope of +any further gain. Where are those papers?" + +"Oliver," cried the Jew, beckoning to him. "Here, here! Let me whisper +to you." + +"I am not afraid," said Oliver, in a low voice, as he relinquished +Mr. Brownlow's hand. + +"The papers," said the Jew, drawing him towards him, "are in a canvas +bag, in a hole a little way up the chimney in the top front room. I want +to talk to you, my dear; I want to talk to you." + +"Yes, yes," returned Oliver. "Let me say a prayer. Do! Let me say one +prayer--say only one, upon your knees with me, and we will talk till +morning." + +"Outside, outside," replied the Jew, pushing the boy before him towards +the door, and looking vacantly over his head. "Say I've gone to +sleep--they'll believe _you_. You can get me out, if you take me so. +Now then, now then!" + +"Oh! God forgive this wretched man!" cried the boy, with a burst of +tears. + +"That's right, that's right," said the Jew; "that'll help us on. This +door first. If I shake and tremble as we pass the gallows, don't you +mind, but hurry on. Now, now, now!" + +"Have you nothing else to ask him, sir?" inquired the turnkey. + +"No other question," replied Mr. Brownlow. "If I hoped we could recall +him to a sense of his position--" + +"Nothing will do that, sir," replied the man, shaking his head. "You had +better leave him." + +The door of the cell opened, and the attendants returned. + +"Press on, press on," cried the Jew. "Softly, but not so slow. Faster, +faster!" + +The men laid hands upon him, and disengaging Oliver from his grasp, held +him back. He struggled with the power of desperation for an instant, and +then sent up cry upon cry that penetrated even those massive walls, and +rang in their ears until they reached the open yard. + + + + +A Caution to Poets. + + + What poets feel not, when they make + A pleasure in creating, + The world, in its turn, will not take + Pleasure in contemplating. + + --_Matthew Arnold_. + + + + +Apollo Belvedere[G] + +_A Christmas Episode of the Plantation._ + +BY RUTH McENERY STUART. + + [In the same volume which contains this story there are many + others that lend themselves to recitation. "Moriah's Mourning" + is one of the best pieces of humor which Mrs. Stuart has + written; "Christmas at the Trimbles" has proven itself a + never-failing success, and "The Second Mrs. Slimm" is an + excellent reading.] + + +He was a little yellow man, with a quizzical face and sloping shoulders, +and when he gave his full name, with somewhat of a flourish, as if it +might hold compensations for physical shortcomings, one could hardly +help smiling. And yet there was a pathos in the caricature that +dissipated the smile half-way. + +"Yas, I'm named 'Pollo Belvedere, an' my marster gi'e me dat intitlemint +on account o' my shape," he would say, with a strut, as if he were +bantered. As Apollo would have told you himself, the fact that he had +never married was not because he couldn't get anybody to have him, but +simply that he hadn't himself been suited. + +Lily Washington was a beauty in her own right, and she was the belle of +the plantation. She was an emotional creature, with a caustic tongue on +occasion, and when it pleased her mood to look over her shoulder at one +of her numerous admirers and to wither him with a look or a word, she +did not hesitate to do it. For instance, when Apollo first asked her to +marry him--it had been his habit to propose to her every day or so for a +year or two past--she glanced at him askance from head to foot, and then +she said: "Why, yas. Dat is, I s'pose, of co'se, you's de sample. I'd +order a full-size by you in a minute." This was cruel, and seeing the +pathetic look come into his face, she instantly repented of it, and +walked home from church with him, dismissing a handsome black fellow, +and saying only kind things to Apollo all the way. + +Of course no one took Apollo seriously as Lily's suitor, much less the +chocolate maid herself. But there were other lovers. Indeed, there were +all the others, for that matter, but in point of eligibility the number +to be seriously regarded was reduced to about two. These were Pete +Peters, a handsome griff, with just enough Indian blood to give him an +air of distinction, and a French-talking mulatto, who had come up from +New Orleans to repair the machinery in the sugar-house, and who was +buying land in the vicinity, and drove his own sulky. Pete was less +prosperous than he, but, although he worked his land on shares, he +owned two mules and a saddle horse, and would be allowed to enter on a +purchase of land whenever he should choose to do so. Although Pete and +the New Orleans fellow, whose name was also Peter, but who was called +Pierre, met constantly in a friendly enough way, they did not love +each other. They both loved Lily too much for that. But they laughed +good-naturedly together at Apollo and his "case," which they inquired +after politely, as if it were a member of his family. + +"Well, 'Pollo, how's yo' case on Miss Lily comin' on?" either one would +say, with a wink at the other, and Apollo would artlessly report the +state of the heavens with relation to his particular star, as when he +once replied to this identical question: + +"Well, Miss Lily was mighty obstropulous 'istiddy, but she is mo' +cancelized dis mornin'." + +It was Pete who had asked the question, and he laughed aloud at the +answer. "Mo' cancelized dis mornin', is she?" he replied. "How do you +know she is?" + +"'Caze she lemme tote her hoe all de way up f'rom de field," answered +the ingenuous Apollo. + +"She did, did she? An' who was walkin' by her side all dat time, I like +to know?" + +Apollo winced a little at this, but he answered, bravely, "I don't kyah +ef Pier was walkin' wid her; I was totin' her hoe, all de samee." + +The Christmas-eve dance in the sugar-house had been for years an annual +function on the plantation. At this, since her debut, at fourteen, three +Christmases before, Lily had held undisputed sway, and all her former +belles amiably accepted their places as lesser lights. + +Lily was perfectly ravishing in her splendor at the dance this year. The +white Swiss frock she wore was high in the neck, but her brown shoulders +and arms shone through the thin fabric with fine effect. About her slim +waist she tied a narrow ribbon of blue, and she carried a pink feather +fan, and the wreath about her forehead was of lilies-of-the-valley. She +had done a day's scouring for them, and they had come out of the summer +hat of one of the white ladies on the coast. This insured their quality, +and no doubt contributed somewhat to the quiet serenity with which she +bore herself as, with her little head held like that of the Venus of +Milo, she danced down the center of the room, holding her flounces in +either hand, and kicking the floor until she kicked both her slippers +to pieces, when she finished the figure in her stocking feet. + +She had a relay of slippers ready, and there was a scramble as to who +should put them on; but she settled that question by making 'Pollo rise, +with his fiddle in his arms, and lend her his chair for a minute while +she pulled them on herself. Then she let Pete and Pierre each have +one of the discarded slippers as a trophy. Lily had always danced out +several pairs of slippers at the Christmas dance, but she never achieved +her stocking feet in the first round until now, and she was in high +glee over it. If she had been admired before, she was looked upon as a +raving, tearing, beauty to-night, and so she was. Fortunately 'Pollo had +his fiddling to do, and this saved him from any conspicuous folly. But +he kept his eyes on her, and when she grew too ravishingly lovely to his +fond vision, and he couldn't stand it a minute longer in silence, he +turned to the man next him, who played the bones, and remarked, "Ef--ef +anybody but Gord A'mighty had a-made anything as purty as Miss Lily, +dey'd 'a' stinted it somewhar," and, watching every turn, he lent his +bow to her varying moods while she tired out one dancer after another. +It was the New Orleans fellow who first lost his head utterly. He had +danced with her but three times, but, while she took another's hand +and whizzed through the figures, he scarcely took his eyes from her, +and when, at about midnight, he succeeded in getting her apart for a +promenade, he poured forth his soul to her in the picturesque English of +the quadroon quarter of New Orleans. "An' now, to proof to you my lorv, +Ma'm'selle Leelee"--he gesticulated vigorously as he spoke--"I am +geeving you wan beau-u-tiful Christmas present--I am goin' to geev +you--w'at you t'ink? My borgee!" With this he turned dramatically and +faced her. They were standing now under the shed outside the door in +the moonlight, and, although they did not see him, Apollo stood within +hearing, behind a pile of molasses barrels, where he had come "to cool +off." + +Lily had several times been "buggy-ridin'" with Pierre in this same +"borgee," and it was a very magnificent affair in her eyes. When he +told her that it was to be hers she gasped. Such presents were unknown +on the plantation. But Lily was a "mannerly" member of good society, if +her circle was small, and she was not to be taken back by any compliment +a man should pay her. She simply fanned herself, a little flurriedly +perhaps, with her feather fan, as she said: "You sho' must be jokin', +Mr. Pier. You cert'n'y must." But Mr. Pierre was not joking. He was +never more in earnest in his life, and he told her so, and there is no +telling what else he would have told her but for the fact that Mr. Pete +Peters happened to come out to the shed to cool off about this time, and +as he almost brushed her shoulder, it was as little as Lily could do to +address a remark to him, and then, of course, he stopped and chatted +awhile; and, after what appeared a reasonable interval, long enough for +it not to seem that she was too much elated over it, she remarked, "An', +by-de-way, Mr. Peters, I must tell you what a lovely Christmas gif' I +have just received by de hand of Mr. Pier. He has jest presented me +with his yaller-wheeled buggy, an' I sho' is proud of it." Then, +turning to Pierre, she added, "You sho' is a mighty generous gen'leman, +Mr. Pier--you cert'n'y is." + +Peters give Lily one startled look, but he instantly realized, from +her ingenuous manner, that there was nothing back of the gift of the +buggy--that is, it had been, so far as she was concerned, simply a +Christmas present. Pierre had not offered himself with the gift. And +if this were so, well--he reckoned he could match him. + +He reached forward and took Lily's fan from her hand. He hastened to do +this to keep Pierre from taking it. Then, while he fanned her, he said, +"Is dat so, Miss Lily, dat Mr. Pier is give you a buggy? Dat sholy is a +fine Christmas gif'--it sho' is. An' sense you fin' yo'se'f possessed of +a buggy, I trust you will allow me de pleasure of presentin' you wid a +horse to drive in de buggy." He made a graceful bow as he spoke, a bow +that would have done credit to the man from New Orleans. It was so well +done, indeed, that Lily unconsciously bowed in return, as she said, with +a look that savored a little of roguishness: "Oh, hursh, Mr. Peters! You +des a-guyin' me--dat what you doin'." + +"Guyin' nothin'," said Peters, grinning broadly as he noted the +expression of Pierre's face. "Ef you'll jes do me de honor to accep' of +my horse, Miss Lily, I'll be de proudest gen'leman on dis plantation." + +At this she chuckled, and took her fan in her own hand. And then she +turned to Pierre. + +"You sho' has set de style o' mighty expensive Christmas gif's on dis +plantation, Mr. Pier--you cert'n'y has. An' I wants to thank you bofe +mos' kindly--I cert'n'y does." + +Having heard this much, 'Pollo thought it time to come from his hiding, +and he strolled leisurely out in the other direction first, but soon +returned this way. And then he stopped, and, reaching over, took the +feather fan--and for a few moments he had his innings. Then some one +else came along and the conversation became impersonal, and one by one +they all dropped off--all except 'Pollo. When the rest had gone, he and +Lily found seats on the cane carrier, and they talked a while, and when +a little later supper was announced, it was the proud fiddler who took +her in, while Pierre and Peters stood off and politely glared at each +other; and after a while Pierre must have said something, for Peters +suddenly sprang at him and tumbled him out the door and rolled him over +in the dirt, and they had to be separated. But presently they laughed +and shook hands, and Pierre offered Pete a cigarette, and Pete took it, +and gave Pierre a light--and it was all over. + +It was next day--Christmas morning--and the young people were standing +about in groups under the China-trees in the campus, when Apollo joined +them, looking unusually chipper and beaming. He was dressed in his +best--Prince Albert, beaver, and all--and he sported a bright silk +handkerchief tied loosely about his neck. + +He was altogether a delightful figure, absolutely content with himself, +and apparently at peace with the world. No sooner had he joined the +crowd than the fellows began chaffing him, as usual, and presently some +one mentioned Lily's name and spoke of her presents. The two men who +had broken the record for generosity in the history of plantation +lovers were looked upon as nabobs by those of lesser means. Of course +everybody knew the city fellow had started it, and they were glad that +Peters had come to time and saved the dignity of the place; indeed, he +was about the only one on the plantation who could have done it. + +As they stood talking it over, the two heroes had nothing to say, of +course, and 'Pollo began rolling a cigarette--an art he had learned from +the man from New Orleans. + +Finally, he remarked, "Yas, Miss Lily got sev'al mighty nice presents +last night." + +At this Pierre turned, laughing, and said, "I s'pose you geeve 'er +somet'ing, too, eh?" + +"Pity you hadn't a-give her dat silk hank'cher. Hit 'd become her a +heap better'n it becomes you," Peters said, laughing. + +"Yas, I reckon it would," said 'Pollo; "but de fact is she gi' me dis +hank'cher--an' of co'se I accepted it." + +"But why ain't you tellin' us what you give her?" insisted Peters. + +'Pollo put the cigarette to his lips, deliberately lit it, puffed +several times, and then, removing it in a leisurely way, he drawled: + +"Well, de fact is, I heerd Mr. Pier here give her a buggy, +an'--Mr. Peters, he up an' handed over a horse,--an' so, quick +as I got a chance, I des balanced my ekalub'ium an' went an' set +down beside her an' ast her ef she wouldn't do me the honor to +accep' of a driver, an'--an' she say yas. + +"You know I'm a coachman by trade. + +"An dat's huccome I to say she got sev'al presents las' night." + +And he took another puff of his cigarette. + + +[G] From "Moriah's Mourning." Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers. + + + + +An Invalid in Lodgings + +BY J. M. BARRIE. + + +Until my system collapsed, my landlady only spoke of me as her parlor. +At intervals I had communicated with her through the medium of Sarah +Ann, the servant, and, as her rent was due on Wednesday, could I pay my +bill now? Except for these monetary transactions, my landlady and I were +total strangers, and, though I sometimes fell over her children in the +lobby, that led to no intimacy. Even Sarah Ann never opened her mouth +to me. She brought in my tea, and left me to discover that it was there. +My first day in lodgings I said "Good-morning" to Sarah Ann, and she +replied, "Eh?" "Good-morning," I repeated, to which she answered +contemptuously, "Oh, ay." For six months I was simply the parlor; but +then I fell ill, and at once became an interesting person. + +Sarah Ann found me shivering on the sofa one hot day a week or more ago, +beneath my rug, two coats, and some other articles. My landlady sent +up some beef-tea, in which she has a faith that is pathetic, and then, +to complete the cure, she appeared in person. She has proved a nice, +motherly old lady, but not cheerful company. + +"Where do you feel it worst, sir?" she asked. + +I said it was bad all over, but worst in my head. + +"On your brow?" + +"No; on the back of my head." + +"It feels like a lump of lead?" + +"No; like a furnace." + +"That's just what I feared," she said. "It began so with him." + +"With whom?" + +"My husband. He came in one day, five years ago, complaining of his +head, and in three days he was a corpse." + +"What?" + +"Don't be afraid, sir. Maybe it isn't the same thing." + +"Of course it isn't. Your husband, according to the story you told me +when I took these rooms, died of fever." + +"Yes, but the fever began just in this way. It carried him off in no +time. You had better see a doctor, sir. Doctor was no use in my +husband's case, but it is satisfaction to have him." + +Here Sarah Ann, who had been listening with mouth and eyes open, +suddenly burst into tears, and was led out of the room, exclaiming, +"Him such a quiet gentleman, and he never flung nothing at me." + +Though I knew that I had only caught a nasty cold, a conviction in +which the doctor confirmed me, my landlady stood out for its being +just such another case as her husband's, and regaled me for hours with +reminiscences of his rapid decline. If I was a little better one day, +alas! he had been a little better the day before he died; and if I +answered her peevishly, she told Sarah Ann that my voice was going. She +brought the beef-tea up with her own hands, her countenance saying that +I might as well have it, though it could not save me. Sometimes I pushed +it away untasted (how I loathe beef-tea now!), when she whispered +something to Sarah Ann that sent that tender-hearted maid howling once +more from the room. + +"He's supped it all," Sarah Ann said one day, brightening. + +"That's a worse sign," said her mistress, "than if he hadn't took none." + +I lay on a sofa, pulled close to the fire, and when the doctor came, my +landlady was always at his heels, Sarah Ann's dismal face showing at the +door. The doctor is a personal friend of my own, and each day he said I +was improving a little. + +"Ah, doctor!" my landlady said, reprovingly. + +"He does it for the best," she exclaimed to me, "but I don't hold with +doctors as deceive their patients. Why don't he speak out the truth like +a man? My husband were told the worst, and so he had time to reconcile +himself." + +On one of these occasions I summoned up sufficient energy to send her +out of the room; but that only made matters worse. + +"Poor gentleman!" I heard her say to Sarah Ann; "he is very violent +to-day. I saw he were worse the moment I clapped eyes on him. Sarah Ann, +I shouldn't wonder though we had to hold him down yet." + +About an hour afterwards she came in to ask me if I "had come more round +to myself," and when I merely turned round on the sofa for reply, she +said, in a loud whisper to Sarah Ann, that I "were as quiet as a lamb +now." Then she stroked me and went away. + +So attentive was my landlady that she was a ministering angel. Yet I +lay on that sofa plotting how to get her out of the room. The plan that +seemed the simplest was to pretend sleep, but it was not easily carried +out. Not getting any answer from me, she would approach on tiptoe and +lean over the sofa, listening to hear me breathe. Convinced that I was +still living, she and Sarah Ann began a conversation in whispers, of +which I or the deceased husband was the subject. The husband had slept +a good deal, too, and it wasn't a healthy sign. + +"It isn't a good sign," whispered my landlady, "though them as know no +better might think it is. It shows he's getting weaker. When they takes +to sleeping in the day-time, it's only because they don't have the +strength to keep awake." + +"Oh, missus!" Sarah Ann would say. + +"Better face facts, Sarah Ann," replied my landlady. + +In the end I had generally to sit up and confess that I heard what they +were saying. My landlady evidently thought this another bad sign. + +I discovered that my landlady held receptions in another room, where +visitors came who referred to me as her "trial." When she thought me +distinctly worse, she put on her bonnet and went out to disseminate the +sad news. It was on one of these occasions that Sarah Ann, who had been +left in charge of the children, came to me with a serious request. + +"Them children," she said, "want awful to see you, and I sort of +promised to bring 'em in, if so you didn't mind." + +"But, Sarah Ann, they have seen me often, and, though I'm a good deal +better, I don't feel equal to speaking to them." + +Sarah Ann smiled pityingly when I said I felt better, but she assured me +the children only wanted to look at me. I refused her petition, but, on +my ultimatum being announced to them, they set up such a roar that, to +quiet them, I called them in. + +They came one at a time. Sophia, the eldest, came first. She looked at +me very solemnly, and then said bravely that If I liked she would kiss +me. As she had a piece of flannel tied round her face, and was swollen +in the left cheek, I declined this honor, and she went off much +relieved. Next came Tommy, who sent up a shriek as his eyes fell on me, +and had to be carried off by Sarah Ann. Johnny was bolder and franker, +but addressed all his remarks to Sarah Ann. First, he wanted to know if +he could touch me, and, being told he could, he felt my face all over. +Then, he wanted to see the "spouter." The "spouter" was a spray through +which Sarah Ann blew coolness on my head, and Johnny had heard of it +with interest. He refused to leave the room until he had been permitted +to saturate me and my cushion. + +I am so much better now that even my landlady knows I am not dying. I +suppose she is glad that it is so, but at the same time she resents it. +There is an impression in the house that I am a fraud. They call me by +my name as yet, but soon again I shall be the parlor. + + + + +The Stirrup-Cup + +BY SIDNEY LANIER. + + + Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare: + Look how compounded, with what care! + Time got his wrinkles reaping thee + Sweet herbs from all antiquity. + + David to thy distillage went, + Keats, and Gotama excellent, + Omar Khayyam, and Chaucer bright, + And Shakespeare for a king-delight. + + Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt; + Hand me the cup whene'er thou wilt; + 'Tis thy rich stirrup-cup to me; + I'll drink it down right smilingly. + + + + +Das Krist Kindel.[H] + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. + + + I had fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in delight + Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December night; + And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back "my throne"-- + The old split-bottomed rocker--and was musing all alone. + + I could hear the hungry Winter prowling round the outer door, + And the tread of muffled footsteps on the white piazza floor; + But the sounds came to me only as the murmur of a stream + That mingled with the current of a lazy-flowing dream. + + Like a fragrant incense rising, curled the smoke of my cigar, + With the lamp-light gleaming through it like a mist-enfolded star;-- + And as I gazed, the vapor like a curtain rolled away, + With a sound of bells that tinkled, and the clatter of a sleigh. + + And in a vision, painted like a picture in the air, + I saw the elfish figure of a man with frosty hair-- + A quaint old man that chuckled with a laugh as he appeared, + And with ruddy cheeks like embers in the ashes of his beard. + + He poised himself grotesquely, in an attitude of mirth, + On a damask-covered hassock that was sitting on the hearth; + And at a magic signal of his stubby little thumb, + I saw the fire place changing to a bright procenium. + + And looking there, I marveled as I saw a mimic stage + Alive with little actors of a very tender age; + And some so very tiny that they tottered as they walked, + And lisped and purled and gurgled like the brooklets, when they talked. + + And their faces were like lilies, and their eyes like purest dew, + And their tresses like the shadows that the shine is woven through; + And they each had little burdens, and a little tale to tell + Of fairy lore, and giants, and delights delectable. + + And they mixed and intermingled, weaving melody with joy. + Till the magic circle clustered round a blooming baby-boy; + And they threw aside their treasures in an ecstasy of glee, + And bent, with dazzled faces, and with parted lips, to see. + + 'Twas a wondrous little fellow, with a dainty double chin, + And chubby cheeks, and dimples for the smiles to blossom in; + And he looked as ripe and rosy, on his bed of straw and reeds; + As a mellow little pippin that had tumbled in the weeds. + + And I saw the happy mother, and a group surrounding her, + That knelt with costly presents of frankincense and myrrh; + And I thrilled with awe and wonder, as a murmur on the air + Came drifting o'er the hearing in a melody of prayer:-- + + _By the splendor in the heavens, and the hush upon the sea, + And the majesty of silence reigning o'er Galilee,-- + We feel Thy kingly presence, and we humbly bow the knee + And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee._ + + _Thy messenger has spoken, and our doubts have fled and gone + As the dark and spectral shadows of the night before the dawn, + And, in the kindly shelter of the light around us drawn, + We would nestle down forever in the breast we lean upon._ + + _You have given us a shepherd, you have given us a guide, + And the light of Heaven grew dimmer when you sent Him from your side,-- + But He comes to lead Thy children where the gates will open wide + To welcome His returning when His works are glorified._ + + _By the splendor in the Heavens, and the hush upon the sea, + And the majesty of silence reigning over Galilee,-- + We feel Thy kingly presence, and we humbly bow the knee + And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee._ + + Then the vision, slowly failing, with the words of the refrain, + Fell swooning in the moonlight through the frosty windowpane; + And I heard the clock proclaiming, like an eager sentinel + Who brings the world good tidings,--"It is Christmas--all is well!" + + +[H] From "Afterwhiles." Copyright, 1898. By special permission of the +publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. + + + + +Hiram Foster's Thanksgiving Turkey + +BY S. E. KISER. + + [Of the many poems written when President McKinley was + assassinated, none surpassed in sympathy and original conception + the verses printed below.] + + + See that turkey out there, mister? Ain't he big and fat and nice? + Well, you couldn't buy that gobbler, not for any kind of price. + Now, I'll tell you how it happened: 'Way along last spring, you know, + This here turkey's mother hatched some twenty little ones or so-- + Hatched 'em in the woods down yonder, and come marchin' home one day + With them stringin' out behind 'er, catchin' bugs along the way. + + Well, my little grandson named 'em--both his folks are dead, you see, + So he's come and gone to livin' with his grandma, here, and me. + He give each a name to go by: one was Teddy, one was Schley, + One was Sampson, one was Dewey, one was Bryan, too, but I + Liked the one he called McKinley best of all the brood, somehow-- + He was that there turkey yonder that's a gobblin' at you now. + + How them cunnin' little rascals grew and grew! Sometimes, I swear, + It 'most seemed as though we seen 'em shootin' upward in the air. + And McKinley was the leader and the best of all the lot, + And you'd ought to seen the mother--proud of him?--I tell you what! + So I says to ma and Charley--oh, three months ago at least-- + That I guessed we'd keep McKinley for our own Thanksgivin' feast. + + Then we sold off all the others, keepin' only this one here, + And I guess we won't have turkey for Thanksgivin' Day this year. + Just the name we gave that gobbler makes him sacreder to me, + After all the things that's happened, than I--well, somehow you see + I was in his ridgement--so you'll please excuse me--I dunno-- + I don't want to show my feelin's--sometimes folks can't help it, though. + + Hear 'im gobble now, and see him as he proudly struts away; + Don't you s'pose he knows there's something in the name he bears to-day? + See how all his feathers glisten--ain't he big and plump and nice? + No, sir! No; you couldn't buy 'im, not for any kind of price. + That there gobbler, there, that Charley gave the name McKinley to, + He'll die natural--that's something turkeys mighty seldom do. + + + + +The Winning of Lorna Doone + +(From Lorna Doone.) + +BY R. D. BLACKMORE. + + [The Doones were a band of aristocratic, but lawless, people + living in the Doone Valley, from which they sallied forth to + raid the neighboring farmers and travelers. John Ridd, who tells + the story, while fishing one spring had followed a stream into + the Doone estate. When the following scene opens he had just had + a desperate struggle to save himself from the swift current of + the stream, and had nearly lost his life.] + + +When I came to myself again, my hands were full of young grass and mold, +and a little girl, kneeling at my side, was rubbing my forehead tenderly +with a dock-leaf and a handkerchief. + +"Oh, I am so glad!" she whispered, softly, as I opened my eyes and +looked at her; "now you will try to be better, won't you?" + +I had never heard so sweet a sound as came from between her bright red +lips, while there she knelt and gazed at me; neither had I ever seen +anything so beautiful as the large, dark eyes intent upon me, full of +pity and wonder. And then, my nature being slow, and perhaps, for that +matter, heavy, I wandered with my hazy eyes down the black shower of her +hair, as to my jaded gaze it seemed. Perhaps she liked my countenance, +and indeed I know she did, because she said so afterward; although at +that time she was too young to know what made her take to me. + +Thereupon I sat upright, with my little trident still in one hand, and +was much afraid to speak to her, being conscious of my country brogue, +lest she should cease to like me. But she clapped her hands, and made +a trifling dance around my back, and came to me on the other side, as +if I were a great play thing. + +"What is your name?" she said, as if she had every right to ask me; +"and how did you come here, and what are these wet things in this great +bag?" + +"You had better let them alone," I said; "they are loaches for my +mother. But I will give you some, if you like." + +"Dear me, how much you think of them! Why, they are only fish. But how +your feet are bleeding! Oh, I must tie them up for you. And no shoes +nor stockings! Is your mother very poor, poor boy?" + +"No," I said, being vexed at this; "we are rich enough to buy all this +great meadow, if we chose; and here my shoes and stockings be." + +"Why, they are quite as wet as your feet; and I cannot bear to see your +feet. Oh, please to let me bandage them; I will do it very softly." + +"Oh, I don't think much of that," I replied; "I shall put some goose +grease to them. But how you are looking at me! I never saw one like you +before. My name is John Ridd. What is your name?" + +"Lorna Doone," she answered, in a low voice, as if afraid of it, and +hanging her head so that I could see only her forehead and eyelashes; +"if you please, my name is Lorna Doone, and I thought you must have +known it." + +Young and harmless as she was, her name alone made guilt of her. +Nevertheless, I could not help looking at her tenderly, and the more +when her blushes turned into tears, and her tears to long, low sobs. + +"Don't cry," I said, "whatever you do. I am sure you have never done +any harm. I will give you all my fish, Lorna, and catch some more for +mother; only don't be angry with me." + +She flung her soft arms up in the passion of her tears, and looked at me +so piteously that what did I do but kiss her. It seemed to be a very odd +thing, when I came to think of it, because I hated kissing so, as all +honest boys must do. But she touched my heart with a sudden delight. + +She gave me no encouragement, as my mother in her place would have done; +nay, she even wiped her lips (which methought was rather rude of her), +and drew away, and smoothed her dress, as if I had used a freedom. + +I, for my part, being vexed at her behavior to me, took up all my things +to go, and made a fuss about it, to let her know I was going. But she +did not call me back at all, as I had made sure she would do; moreover, +I knew that to try the descent was almost certain death to me, and it +looked as dark as pitch; and so at the mouth I turned round again, and +came back to her, and said, "Lorna." + +"Oh, I thought you were gone," she answered; "why did you ever come +here? Do you know what they would do to us if they found you here +with me?" + +"Beat us, I dare say, very hard, or me at least. They could never beat +you." + +"No. They would kill us both outright, and bury us here by the water; +and the water often tells me that I must come to that." + +"But what should they kill me for?" + +"Because you have found the way up here, and they could never believe +it. Now, please to go; oh please go. They will kill us both in a moment. +Yes, I like you very much"--for I was teasing her to say it--"very much +indeed, and I will call you John Ridd, if you like; only please to go, +John. And when your feet are well, you know, you can come and tell me +how they are." + +"But I tell you, Lorna, I like you very much indeed, nearly as much as +Annie, and a great deal more than Lizzie. And I never saw any one like +you; and I must come back again to-morrow, and so must you, to see me; +and I will bring you such lots of things--there are apples still, and +a thrush that I caught, with only one leg broken, and our dog has just +had puppies--" + +"Oh dear! they won't let me have a dog. There is not a dog in the +valley. They say that they are such noisy things--" + +"Only put your hands in mine--what little things they are, Lorna!--and +I will bring you the loveliest dog; I will show you just how long he is." + +"Hush!" A shout came down the valley, and all my heart was trembling, +like water after sunset, and Lorna's face was altered from pleasant play +to terror. She shrunk to me, and looked up at me, with such a power of +weakness, that I at once made up my mind to save her or die with her. A +tingle went through all my bones, and I only longed for my carbine. The +little girl took courage from me, and put her cheek quite close to mine. + +"Come with me down the water-fall. I can carry you easily, and mother +will take care of you." + +"No, no," she cried, as I took her up; "I will tell you what to do. +They are only looking for me. You see that hole, that hole there?" + +"Yes, I see it; but they will see me crossing the grass to get there." + +"Look, look!" She could hardly speak. "There is a way out from the top +of it; they would kill me if I told it. Oh, here they come; I can see +them." Then she began to sob aloud, being so young and unready. But I +drew her behind the withy-bushes, and close down to the water, where it +was quiet and shelving deep, ere it came to the lip of the chasm. Here +they could not see either of us from the upper valley. + +Crouching in that hollow nest, as children get together in ever so +little compass, I saw a dozen fierce men come down on the other side of +the water, not bearing any fire-arms, but looking lax and jovial, as if +they were come from riding and a dinner taken hungrily. "Queen, queen!" +they were shouting, here and there, and now and then; "where the pest is +our little queen gone?" + +"They always call me 'queen,' and I am to be queen by-and-by," Lorna +whispered to me, with her soft cheek on my rough one, and her little +heart beating against me; "oh, they are crossing by the timber there, +and then they are sure to see us." + +"Stop," said I; "now I see what to do. I must get into the water, and +you must go to sleep." + +"To be sure, yes; away in the meadow there. But how bitter cold it will +be for you!" + +She saw in a moment the way to do it sooner than I could tell her; and +there was no time to lose. + +"Now, mind you, never come again," she whispered over her shoulder, as +she crept away with a childish twist, hiding her white front from me; +"only I shall come sometimes--oh, here they are, Madonna!" + +Daring scarce to peep, I crept into the water, and lay down bodily in +it, with my head between two blocks of stone, and some flood drift +combing over me. I knew that for her sake I was bound to be brave and +hide myself. She was lying beneath a rock, thirty or forty yards from +me, feigning to be fast asleep, with her dress spread beautifully, and +her hair drawn over her. + +Presently one of the great, rough men came round a corner upon her; and +there he stopped and gazed a while at her fairness and her innocence. +Then he caught her up in his arms, and kissed her so that I heard him; +and if I had only brought my gun, I would have tried to shoot him. + +"Here our queen is! Here's the queen; here's the captain's daughter!" +he shouted to his comrades; "fast asleep, and hearty! Now I have first +claim to her; and no one else shall touch the child. Back to the bottle, +all of you!" + +He set her dainty little form upon his great, square shoulder, and her +narrow feet in one broad hand; and so in triumph marched away. + + +II. + + [After this, John and Lorna met often in a secret place, where + there was little chance of discovery. It was decided by the + family that Lorna should be the wife of Carver Doone, the leader + of the band, but as she was unwilling, and Grandfather Doone, + the retiring leader, would not permit them to compel her, years + went by without Carver accomplishing his purpose. Finally Lorna + came no more to the trysting place, so that John suspected she + had been put in a dungeon. He resolved to gain an entrance to + the Doone village, and, after a desperate night adventure, + succeeded.] + +My heart was in my mouth, as they say, when I stood in the shade of +Lorna's window, and whispered her name gently. But, though the window +was not very close, I might have whispered long enough before she would +have answered me, frightened as she was, no doubt, by many a rude +overture. And I durst not speak aloud, because I saw another watchman +posted on the western cliff, and commanding all the valley. And now +this man espied me against the wall of the house, and advanced against +the brink and challenged me. + +"Who are you, there? Answer! One, two, three; and I fire at thee." + +The nozzle of his gun was pointed full upon me, as I could see, with +the moonlight striking on the barrel; he was not more than fifty yards +off, and now he began to reckon. Being almost desperate about it, I +began to whistle, wondering how far I should get before I lost my +windpipe; and, as luck would have it, my lips fell into that strange +tune I had practiced last,--the one I heard from Charlie Doone. My +mouth would scarcely frame the notes, being parched with terror; but, +to my surprise, the man fell back, dropped his gun and saluted. Oh, +sweetest of all sweet melodies! + +That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long afterward), which +Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of Lorna. The sentinel took +me for that vile Carver, who was like enough to be prowling there, for +private talk with Lorna, but not very likely to shout forth his name, +if it might be avoided. The watchman, perceiving the danger, perhaps, +of intruding on Carver's privacy, not only retired along the cliff, but +withdrew himself to good distance. + +Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna came to the +window at once to see what the cause of the shout was, and drew back the +curtain timidly. Then she opened the rough lattice; and then she watched +the cliff and trees; and then she sighed very sadly. + +"Oh, Lorna, don't you know me?" I whispered from the side, being afraid +of startling her by appearing over suddenly. + +Quick though she was of thought, she knew me not from my whisper, and +was shutting the window hastily, when I caught it back and showed +myself. + +"John!" she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud; "oh, you +must be mad, John!" + +"As mad as a March hare," said I, "without any news of my darling. You +knew I would come--of course you did." + +"Well, I thought, perhaps--you know; now, John, you need not eat my +hand. Do you see, they have put iron bars across?" + +"To be sure. Do you think I should be contented even with this lovely +hand, but for these vile iron bars? I will have them out before I go. +Now, darling, for one moment--just the other hand, for a change, you +know." + +So I got the other, but was not honest; for I kept them both, and felt +their delicate beauty trembling as I laid them to my heart. + +"Oh, John, you will make me cry directly"--she had been crying long +ago--"if you go on in that way. You know we can never have one another; +every one is against it. Why should I make you miserable? Try not to +think of me any more." + +"And will you try the same of me, Lorna?" + +"Oh yes, John; if you agree to it. At least I will try to try it." + +"Then you won't try anything of the sort," I cried, with great +enthusiasm, for her tone was so nice and melancholy; "the only thing +we will try to try is to belong to one another. And if we do our best, +Lorna, God alone can prevent us." + +She crossed herself with one hand drawn free, as I spoke so boldly; +and something swelled in her little throat, and prevented her from +answering. + +"Now tell me," I said; "what means all this? Why are you so pent up +here? Why have you given me no token? Has your grandfather turned +against you? Are you in any danger?" + +"My poor grandfather is very ill. I fear that he will not live long. +The Counselor and his son are now masters of the valley; and I dare not +venture forth for fear of anything they might do to me. When I went +forth to signal for you, Carver tried to seize me; but I was too quick +for him. Little Gwenny is not allowed to leave the valley now, so that +I could send no message. I have been so wretched, dear, lest you should +think me false to you. The tyrants now make sure of me. You must watch +this house both night and day, if you wish to save me. There is nothing +they would shrink from, if my poor grandfather--oh, I cannot bear to +think of myself, when I ought to think of him only; dying without a son +to tend him or a daughter to shed a tear." + +"But surely he has sons enough; and a deal too many," I was going to +say, but stopped myself in time. "Why do none of them come to him?" + +"I know not. I cannot tell. He is a very strange old man, and few +have ever loved him. He was black with wrath at the Counselor this +afternoon--but I must not keep you here--you are much too brave, John; +and I am too selfish; there, what was that shadow?" + +"Nothing more than a bat, darling, come to look for his sweetheart. I +will not stay long; you tremble so; and yet for that very reason how can +I leave you, Lorna?" + +"You must--you must," she answered; "I shall die if they hurt you. I +hear the old nurse moving. Grandfather is sure to send for me. Keep back +from the window." + +However, it was only Gwenny Carfax, Lorna's little handmaid; my darling +brought her to the window and presented her to me, almost laughing +through her grief. + +"Oh, I am so glad, John; Gwenny, I am so glad you came. I have wanted +long to introduce you to my 'young man,' as you call him. It is rather +dark, but you can see him. I wish you to know him again, Gwenny." + +"Whoy!" cried Gwenny, with great amazement, standing on tiptoe to look +out, and staring as if she were weighing me; "he be bigger nor any +Doone! I shall knoo thee again, young man; no fear of that," she +answered, nodding with an air of patronage. "Now, missis, gae on +coortin', and I will gae outside and watch for 'ee." Though expressed +not over-delicately, this proposal arose, no doubt, from Gwenny's sense +of delicacy; and I was very thankful to her for taking her departure. + +"She is the best little thing in the world," said Lorna, softly, +laughing, "and the queerest, and the truest. Nothing will bribe her +against me. If she seems to be on the other side, never, never doubt +her. Now, no more of your 'coortin',' John. I love you far too well +for that. Yes, yes, ever so much! If you will take a mean advantage +of me--as much as ever you like to imagine; and then you may double it +after that. Only go, do go, good John; kind, dear, darling John; if you +love me, go." + +"How can I go without settling anything?" I asked, very sensibly. "How +shall I know of your danger now? Hit upon something; you are so quick. +Anything you can think of; and then I will go, and not frighten you." + +"I have been thinking long of something," Lorna answered, rapidly, with +that peculiar clearness of voice which made every syllable ring like +music of a several note. "You see that tree with the seven rooks' nests, +bright against the cliffs there? Can you count them from above, do you +think? From a place where you would be safe, dear?" + +"No doubt I can; or, if I cannot, it will not take me long to find a +spot whence I can do it." + +"Gwenny can climb like any cat. She has been up there in the summer +watching the young birds day by day, and daring the boys to touch them. +There are neither birds nor eggs there now, of course, and nothing +doing. If you see but six rooks' nests, I am in peril, and want you. +If you see but five, I am carried off by Carver." + +"Good God!" said I, at the mere idea, in a tone which frightened Lorna. + +"Fear not, John," she whispered, sadly, and my blood grew cold at it; +"I have means to stop him, or at least to save myself. If you can come +within one day of that man's getting hold of me, you will find me quite +unharmed. After that you will find me, dead or alive, according to +circumstances, but in no case such that you need blush to look at me." + +I only said, "God bless you, darling!" and she said the same to me, in +a very low, sad voice. And then I stole below Carver's house in the +shadow from the eastern cliff; and, knowing enough of the village now to +satisfy all necessity, betook myself to my well-known track in returning +from the valley. + + +III. + + [It was not long after this that John Ridd saw the signal that + Lorna was in danger. With the aid of friends he planned and + successfully executed a raid upon the Doone village, and carried + away Lorna to his mother's house. Subsequently the Doones + attacked the house where Lorna was staying, but John Ridd and + his friends were prepared to meet them, as is related in the + following scene:] + +It was not likely that the outlaws would attack our premises until some +time after the moon was risen, because it would be too dangerous to +cross the flooded valleys in the darkness of the night. And, but for +this consideration, I must have striven harder against the stealthy +approach of slumber. But even so, it was very foolish to abandon watch, +especially in such as I, who sleep like any dormouse. Moreover, I had +chosen the very worst place in the world for such employment, with a +goodly chance of awaking in a bed of solid fire. + +And so it might have been--nay, it must have been--but for Lorna's +vigilance. Her light hand upon my arm awoke me, not too readily, and, +leaping up, I seized my club, and prepared to knock down somebody. + +"Who's that?" I cried. "Stand back, I say, and let me have a fair chance +at you." + +"Are you going to knock me down, dear John?" replied the voice I love +so well. "I am sure I should never get up again, after one blow from you, +John." + +"My darling, is it you?" I cried; "and breaking all your orders? Come +back into the house at once; and nothing on your head, dear." + +"How could I sleep, while at any moment you might be killed beneath my +window? And now is the time of real danger, for men can see to travel." + +I saw at once the truth of this. The moon was high and clearly lighting +all the watered valleys. To sleep any longer might be death, not only to +myself, but all. + +"The man on guard at the back of the house is fast asleep," she +continued; "Gwenny, who let me out, and came with me, has heard him +snoring for two hours. I think the women ought to be the watch, because +they have had no traveling. Where do you suppose little Gwenny is?" + +"Surely not gone to Glen Doone?" I was not sure, however, for I could +believe almost anything of the Cornish maiden's hardihood. + +"No," replied Lorna, "although she wanted even to do that. But, of +course, I would not hear of it, on account of the swollen waters. But +she is perched in yonder tree, which commands the Barrow Valley. She +says that they are almost sure to cross the streamlet there." + +"What a shame," I cried, "that the men should sleep and the maidens be +the soldiers! I will sit in that tree myself, and send little Gwenny +back to you. Go to bed, my best and dearest; I will take good care not +to sleep again." + +Before I had been long on duty, making the round of the ricks and the +stables, and hailing Gwenny now and then from the bottom of her tree, +a short, wide figure stole toward me, in and out the shadows, and I saw +that it was no other than the little maid herself, and that she bore +some tidings. + +"Ten on 'em crossed the water down yonder," said Gwenny, putting her +hand to her mouth, and seeming to regard it as good news rather than +otherwise; "be arl craping up by the hedgerow now. I could shutt dree +on 'em from the bar of the gate, if so be I had your goon, young man." + +"There is no time to lose, Gwenny. Run to the house and fetch Master +Stickles, and all the men while I stay here and watch the rick-yard." + +The robbers rode into our yard as coolly as if they had been invited, +having lifted the gate from the hinges first, on account of its being +fastened. Then they actually opened our stable doors, and turned our +honest horses out, and put their own rogues in place of them. At this +my breath was quite taken away, for we think so much of our horses. By +this time I could see our troopers waiting in the shadow of the house +round the corner from where the Doones were, and expecting the order to +fire; but Jeremy Stickles very wisely kept them in readiness until the +enemy should advance upon them. + +"Two of you lazy fellows go,"--it was the deep voice of Carver Doone, +"and make us a light to cut their throats by. Only one thing, once +again. If any man touches Lorna, I will stab him where he stands. She +belongs to me. There are two other young damsels here, whom you may take +away if you please. And the mother, I hear, is still comely. Now for our +rights. We have borne too long the insolence of these yokels. Kill every +man and every child, and burn this cursed place down." + +Presently two young men came toward me, bearing brands of resined hemp, +kindled from Carver's lamp. The foremost of them set his torch to the +rick within a yard of me, the smoke concealing me from him. I struck him +with a backhanded blow on the elbow as he bent it, and I heard the bone +of his arm break as clearly as ever I heard a twig snap. With a roar of +pain, he fell on the ground, and his torch dropped there and singed him. +The other man stood amazed at this, not having yet gained sight of me, +till I caught his fire-brand from his hand, and struck it into his +countenance. With that he leaped at me, but I caught him in a manner +learned from early wrestling, and snapped his collar bone, as I laid +him upon the top of his comrade. + +This little success so encouraged me that I was half inclined to advance +and challenge Carver Doone to meet me; but I bore in mind that he would +be apt to shoot me without ceremony; and what is the utmost of human +strength against the power of powder? Moreover, I remembered my promise +to sweet Lorna; and who would be left to defend her, if the rogues got +rid of me? + +While I was hesitating thus, a blaze of fire lit up the house, and brown +smoke hung around it. Six of our men had let go at the Doones, by Jeremy +Stickles's order, as the villains came swaggering down in the moonlight +ready for rape or murder. Two of them fell, and the rest hung back, to +think at their leisure what this was. They were not used to this sort of +thing; it was neither just nor courteous. + +Being unable any longer to contain myself, as I thought of Lorna's +excitement at all this noise of firing, I ran across the yard, expecting +whether they would shoot at me. However, no one shot at me; and I went +up to Carver Doone, whom I knew by his size in the moonlight, and I took +him by the beard and said, "Do you call yourself a man?" + +For a moment he was so astonished that he could not answer. None had +ever dared, I suppose, to look at him in that way. And then he tried a +pistol at me; but I was too quick for him. + +"Now, Carver, take warning," I said to him, very soberly; "you have +shown yourself a fool by your contempt of me. I may not be your match +in craft, but I am in manhood. You are a despicable villain. Lie low in +your native muck." + +And with that word I laid him flat upon his back in our straw-yard by +the trick of the inner heel, which he could not have resisted unless he +were a wrestler. Seeing him down, the others ran, though one of them +made a shot at me, and some of them got their horses before our men came +up, and some went away without them. And among these last was Captain +Carver, who arose while I was feeling myself (for I had a little wound), +and strode away with a train of curses enough to poison the light of +the moon. + + +IV. + + [Through many vicissitudes and many dangers, Lorna and John + spend the months following the incident just related. John + learns that Lorna is, after all, not a Doone, but the daughter + of a family the Doones had waylaid. John's father had also been + murdered by the Doones when John was a lad at school. The + following scene carries its own story:] + +Everything was settled smoothly and without any fear or fuss that Lorna +might find end of troubles, and myself of eager waiting, with the help +of Parson Bowden, and the good wishes of two counties. We heard that +people meant to come for more than thirty miles around, upon excuse of +seeing my stature and Lorna's beauty; but in good truth, out of sheer +curiosity and the love of meddling. + +Dear mother arranged all the ins and outs of the way in which it was to +be done; and Annie and Lizzie made such a sweeping of dresses that I +scarcely knew where to place my feet, and longed for a staff to put by +their gowns. Then Lorna came out of a pew half-way, in a manner which +quite astonished me, and took my left hand in her right, and I prayed +God that it were done with. + +My darling looked so glorious that I was afraid of glancing at her, yet +took in all her beauty. I was afraid to look at her, except when each of +us said, "I will," and then each dwelt upon the other. + +It is impossible for any who have not loved as I have to conceive my joy +and pride when, after ring and all was done, and the parson had blessed +us, Lorna turned to look at me with her glances of subtle fun subdued by +this great act. + +Her eyes, which none on earth may ever equal or compare with, told me +such a depth of comfort, yet awaiting further commune, that I was almost +amazed, thoroughly as I knew them. Darling eyes, the sweetest eyes, the +loveliest, the most loving eyes--the sound of a shot rang through the +church, and those eyes were filled with death. + +Lorna fell across my knees when I was going to kiss her, a flood of +blood came out upon the yellow wood of the altar steps, and at my feet +lay Lorna, trying to tell me some last message out of her faithful eyes. +I lifted her up, and petted her, and coaxed her, but it was no good; the +only sign of life remaining was a spot of bright red blood. + +She sighed a long sigh on my breast, for her last farewell to life, and +then she grew so cold, and cold, that I asked the time of the year. + +Of course I knew who had done it. There was but one man in the world, +or, at any rate, in our part of it, who would have done such a +thing--such a thing. I use no harsher word about it, while I leaped upon +our best horse, with bridle, but no saddle, and set the head of Kickums +toward the course now pointed out to me. Who showed me the course I +cannot tell. I only knew that I took it. And the men fell back before me. + +Weapon of no sort had I. Unarmed, and wondering at my strange attire +(with a bridal vest wrought by our Annie, and red with the blood of the +bride), I went forth just to find out this--whether in this world there +be or be not God of justice. + +With my vicious horse at a furious speed, I came upon Black Barrow Down, +directed by some shout of men, which seemed to me but a whisper. And +there, about a furlong before me, rode a man on a great black horse, and +I knew that the man was Carver Doone. + +"Your life, or mine," I said to myself; "as the will of God may be. But +we two live not upon this earth one more hour together." + +I knew the strength of this great man; and I knew that he was armed with +a gun--if he had time to load again, after shooting my Lorna--or at any +rate with pistols, and a horseman's sword, as well. Nevertheless, I had +no more doubt of killing the man before me than a cook has of spitting +a headless fowl. + +Sometimes seeing no ground beneath me, and sometimes heeding every leaf, +and the crossing of the grass-blades, I followed over the long moor, +reckless whether seen or not. But only once the other man turned and +looked back again, and then I was beside a rock, with a reedy swamp +behind me. + +Although he was so far before me, and riding as hard as ride he might, +I saw that he had something on the horse in front of him, something +which needed care, and stopped him from looking backward. In the whirling +of my wits I fancied first that this was Lorna; until the scene I had +been through fell across my hot brain and heart, like the drop at the +close of a tragedy. Rushing there through crag and quag at utmost speed +of a maddened horse, as of another's fate, calmly (as on canvas laid), +the brutal deed, the piteous anguish, and the cold despair. + +The man turned up the gully leading from the moor to Cloven Rocks. But, +as Carver entered it, he turned round and beheld me not a hundred yards +behind; and I saw that he was bearing his child, little Ensie, before +him. Ensie also descried me, and stretched his hands and cried to me; +for the face of his father frightened him. + +Carver Doone, with a vile oath, thrust spurs into his flagging horse, +and laid one hand on a pistol stock, whence I knew that his slung +carbine has received no bullet since the one that had pierced Lorna. And +a cry of triumph rose from the black depths of my heart. What cared I +for pistols? I had no spurs, neither was my horse one to need the rowel; +I rather held him in than urged him, for he was fresh as ever; and I +knew that the black steed in front, if he breasted the steep ascent, +where the track divided, must be in our reach at once. + +His rider knew this, and, having no room in the rocky channel to turn +and fire, drew rein at the crossways sharply, and plunged into the black +ravine leading to the Wizard's Slough. "Is it so?" I said to myself, +with brain and head cold as iron; "though the foul fiend come from the +slough to save thee, thou shalt carve it, Carver." + +I followed my enemy carefully, steadily, even leisurely--for I had him +as in a pitfall, whence no escape might be. He thought that I feared +to approach him, for he knew not where he was; and his low, disdainful +laugh came back. + +"Laugh he who wins," thought I. + +A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own resolve, and +smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag above me. Rising from +my horse's back, although I had no stirrups, I caught a limb, and tore +it (like a mere wheat-awn) from the socket. Men show the rent even now +with wonder--none with more wonder than myself. + +Carver Doone turned the corner suddenly on the black and bottomless bog; +with a start of fear he reigned back his horse, and I thought he would +have turned upon me. Upon this he made up his mind; and, wheeling, +fired, and then rode at me. + +His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that. Fearing only +his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and with the limb of the +oak struck full on the forehead his charging steed. Ere the slash of the +sword came nigh me, man and horse rolled over, and well-nigh bore my own +horse down with the power of their onset. + +Carver Doone was somewhat stunned, and could not arise for a moment. +Meanwhile I leaped on the ground and waited, smoothing my hair back and +baring my arm as though in the ring for wrestling. Then the little boy +ran to me, clasped my leg, and looked up at me; and the terror in his +eyes made me almost fear myself. + +"Ensie, dear," I said, quite gently, grieving that he should see his +wicked father killed, "run up yonder round the corner, and try to find +a pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady." The child obeyed me, +hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing, while I prepared +for business. There and then I might have killed my enemy with a single +blow while he lay unconscious, but it would have been foul play. + +With a sudden and black scowl, the Carver gathered his mighty limbs and +arose, and looked round for his weapons; but I had put them well away. +Then he came to me and gazed, being wont to frighten thus young men. + +"I would not harm you, lad," he said, with a lofty style of sneering. +"I have punished you enough, for most of your impertinence. For the rest +I forgive you, because you have been good and gracious to my little son. +Go and be contented." + +For answer I smote him on the cheek, lightly, and not to hurt him, but +to make his blood leap up. I would not sully my tongue by speaking to a +man like this. + +I think he felt that his time was come; I think that he knew from my +knotted muscles and the firm arch of my breast, and the way in which I +stood, but most of all from my stern blue eyes, that he had found his +master. At any rate a paleness came, an ashy paleness on his cheeks, and +the vast calves of his legs bowed in as if he was out of training. + +Seeing this, villain as he was, I offered him first chance. I stretched +forth my left hand, as I do to a weaker antagonist, and I let him have +the hug of me. But in this I was too generous; having forgotten my +pistol-wound, and the cracking of one of my short lower ribs. Carver +Doone caught me round the waist with such a grip as never yet had been +laid upon me. + +I heard my rib go; I grasped his arm, and tore the muscle out of it (as +the string comes out of an orange); then I took him by the throat, which +is not allowed in wrestling, but he had snatched at mine; and now was +no time of dalliance. In vain he tugged and strained, and writhed, and +dashed his bleeding fist into my face, and flung himself on me with +gnashing jaws. Beneath the iron of my strength--for God that day was +with me--I had him helpless in two minutes, and his fiery eyes lolled out. + +"I will not harm thee any more," I cried, so far as I could for panting, +the work being very furious. "Carver Doone, thou art beaten; own it, and +thank God for it; and go thy way, and repent thyself." + +It was all too late. Even if he had yielded in his ravening frenzy--for +his beard was like a mad dog's jowl--even if he would have owned that +for the first time in his life he had found his master, it was all too +late. + +The black bog had him by the feet; the sucking of the ground drew him +on, like the thirsty lips of death. In our fury we had heeded neither +wet nor dry; nor thought of earth beneath us. I myself might scarcely +leap, with the last spring of o'erlabored legs, from the ingulfing +grave of slime. He fell back, with his swarthy breast, like a hummock +of bog-oak, standing out the quagmire; and then he tossed his arms to +heaven, and they were black to the elbow, and the glare of his eyes was +ghastly. I could only gaze and pant, for my strength was no more than an +infant's, from the fury and the horror. Scarcely could I turn away, +while, joint by joint, he sunk from sight. + +When the little boy came back with the bluebells, which he had managed +to find, the only sign of his father left was a dark brown bubble upon +a new-formed patch of blackness. But to the center of its pulpy gorge +the greedy slough was heaving, and sullenly grinding its weltering jaws +among the flags and sedges. + +With pain and ache, both of mind and body, and shame at my own fury, I +heavily mounted my horse again, and looked down at the innocent Ensie. +Would this playful loving child grow up like his cruel father, and end +a godless life of hatred with a death of violence? He lifted his noble +forehead toward me, as if to answer, "Nay, I will not"; but the words +he spoke were these: + +"Don"--for he never could say "John"--"oh Don, I am so glad that nasty, +naughty man is gone away. Take me home, Don. Take me home." + +It hurt me more than I can tell, even through all other grief, to take +into my arms the child of the man just slain by me. But I could not +leave him there till some one else might fetch him, on account of the +cruel slough, and the ravens which had come hovering over the dead +horse; neither could I, with my wound, tie him on my horse and walk. + +For now I had spent a great deal of blood, and was rather faint and +weary. And it was luck for me that Kickums had lost spirit like his +master, and went home as mildly as a lamb. For, when we came toward +the farm, I seemed to be riding in a dream almost; and the voices of +both men and women (who had hurried forth upon my track), as they met +me, seemed to wander from a distant, muffling cloud. Only the thought +of Lorna's death, like a heavy knell, was tolling in the belfry of my +brain. + +When we came to the stable door I rather fell from my horse than got +off; and John Fry, with a look of wonder, took Kickum's head and led +him in. Into the old farmhouse I tottered, like a weanling child, with +mother, in her common clothes, helping me along, yet fearing, except +by stealth, to look at me. + +"I have killed him," was all I said, "even as he killed Lorna. Now let +me see my wife, mother. She belongs to me none the less, though dead." + +"You cannot see her now, dear John," said Ruth Huckaback, coming +forward, since no one else had the courage. + +"Annie is with her now, John." + +"What has that to do with it? Let me see my dead and pray to die." + +All the women fell away and whispered, and looked at me with side +glances, and some sobbing, for my face was hard as flint. Ruth alone +stood by me, and dropped her eyes and trembled. Then one little hand +of hers stole into my great shaking palm, and the other was laid on my +tattered coat; yet with her clothes she shunned my blood, while she +whispered gently: + +"John, she is not dead. She may even be your living one yet--your wife, +your home, and your happiness. But you must not see her now." + +Now, whether it was the light and brightness of my Lorna's nature, or +the freedom from anxiety, but anyhow, one thing is certain; sure as the +stars of hope above us, Lorna recovered long ere I did. + + + + +The Sky + + + The sky is a drinking-cup, + That was overturned of old, + And it pours in the eyes of men + Its wines of airy gold. + + We drink that wine all day, + Till the last drop is drained up, + And are lighted off to bed + By the jewels in the cup! + + --_Richard Henry Stoddard_. + + + + + +----+------------------+----+ + | | | | + | | THE SPEAKER | | + | | | | + +----+------------------+----+ + + TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +=NO. 1= + + Editorials 1-4 + + The Artist's Secret Olive Schreiner 5 + + The History Lesson from L'Aiglon Edmund Rostand 6 + + Dawn Paul Laurence Dunbar 11 + + Bill, the Lokil Editor Eugene Field 12 + + Arena Scene from Quo Vadis Henry Sienkiewicz 15 + + The Cushville Hop Ben King 21 + + Sonny's Christening Ruth McEnery Stuart 22 + + How She Went into Business Joel Chandler Harris 28 + + The Leadership of Educated Men George William Curtis 34 + + Jean Valjean and the Bishop Victor Hugo 38 + + Coom, Lassie, Be Good to Me Charles McIlvaine 43 + + A Bird in the Hand F. S. Weatherby 44 + + The Slow Man Ernest Poole 45 + + Emmy Lou George Madden Martin 49 + + Glory John Luther Long 53 + + The Rose and the Gardener Austin Dobson 57 + + The Cap that Fits Austin Dobson 58 + + The Cure's Progress Austin Dobson 60 + + The Philosopher in the Apple Orchard Anthony Hope 61 + + The Photograph Paul Laurence Dunbar 67 + + A Message to Garcia Elbert Hubbard 68 + + Lovey-Loves Ben King 69 + + The Fall of the House of Usher Edgar Allan Poe 70 + + Nini, Ninette, Ninon Frederick S. Weatherby 77 + + With Any Amazement Rudyard Kipling 78 + + One, Two, Three H. C. Bunner 83 + + Mr. Dooley, on the Grip 85 + + +=NO. 2= + + Editorials 97-100 + + The Sign of the Cross Wilson Barrett 101 + + My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold William Wordsworth 105 + + "Gentlemen, the King" Robert Barr 106 + + The Only Way Charles Dickens 111 + + The New Americanism Henry Watterson 114 + + A Plea for Patriotism Benjamin Harrison 116 + + Fame Ben Jonson 117 + + The Independence of Cuba J. M. Thurston 118 + + The Children of the Poor Theodore Parker 122 + + Burns George William Curtis 124 + + A Night in Ste. Pilagie Mary H. Catherwood 127 + + The Call of the Wild Jack London 131 + + The Prisoner of Zenda Anthony Hope 135 + + In the Toils of the Enemy John S. Wood 139 + + The Advocate's First Plea George Barr McCutcheon 144 + + The Tell-Tale Heart Edgar Allan Poe 148 + + The Trial of Ben Thomas H. S. Edwards 151 + + Even This Shall Pass Away Theodore Tilton 155 + + On Milton John Dryden 156 + + Richelieu Bulwer Lytton 157 + + Flower in the Crannied Wall Lord Tennyson 161 + + The Burgomaster's Death (from "The Bells") 162 + + Jathrop Lathrop's Cow Anna Warner 167 + + The Hunchback Sheridan Knowles 172 + + Love Shakespeare 180 + + Last Speech of William McKinley 181 + + For Dear Old Yale James Langston 184 + + The Lance of Kanana 189 + + +=NO. 3= + + Editorials 193-198 + + Reading Elizabeth B. Browning 198 + + The Shave-Store Edmund Vance Cooke 199 + + The Moo-Cow-Moo Edmund Vance Cooke 200 + + Brother Wolf and the Horned Cattle Joel Chandler Harris 201 + + A Summer Lullaby Eudora S. Bumstead 204 + + The First Nowell (Old Carol) 205 + + A Riddle Jonathan Swift 206 + + Tiny Tim (from "A Christmas Carol") Charles Dickens 207 + + The American Flag Joseph R. Drake 212 + + A Grace for a Child Robert Herrick 212 + + The Fairies William Allingham 213 + + The Rule for Birds' Nesters (Old Rhyme) 214 + + Queen Mab Thomas Hood 215 + + The Star Song Robert Herrick 216 + + O Little Town of Bethlehem Phillips Brooks 217 + + Santa Claus (Anonymous) 218 + + Recessional Rudyard Kipling 219 + + The Bonniest Bairn in a' the Warl' Robert Ford 220 + + The Flag Goes By Henry Holcomb Bennett 221 + + Pocahontas William Makepeace Thackeray 222 + + A Farewell Charles Kingsley 223 + + The Shepherd Boy Sings John Bunyan 223 + + Two Apple-Howling Songs (Old Rhymes) 224 + + A Boy's Prayer Henry Charles Beeching 224 + + To-day Thomas Carlyle 225 + + Be True Horatio Bonar 225 + + My Native Land Sir Walter Scott 226 + + Green Things Growing Dinah Maria Mulock 226 + + The Wonderful Country of Good-Boy Land Mary E. Blake 227 + + The Fir-Tree Hans Christian Andersen 229 + + From a Railway Carriage Robert Louis Stevenson 233 + + The Land of Nod Robert Louis Stevenson 234 + + Burns George William Curtis 124 + + Whole Duty of Children Robert Louis Stevenson 234 + + The Story of Joseph (Arranged from Genesis) 235 + + Auld Daddy Darkness James Ferguson 240 + + The Owl and the Pussy-Cat Edward Lear 241 + + The Angel's Whisper Samuel Lover 242 + + Going into Breeches Charles and Mary Lamb 243 + + The Lost Doll Charles Kingsley 244 + + Baby Corn (Unknown) 245 + + Who Stole the Bird's Nest? Lydia Maria Child 246 + + Po' Little Lamb Paul Laurence Dunbar 248 + + Little Brown Baby Paul Laurence Dunbar 250 + + An Incident of the French Camp Robert Browning 251 + + Lullaby of an Infant Chief Sir Walter Scott 252 + + Old Ironsides Oliver Wendell Holmes 253 + + Concord Hymn Ralph Waldo Emerson 254 + + His College Examination + (from "Up from Slavery") Booker T. Washington 255 + + A Child's Grace Robert Burns 260 + + A Howdy Song Joel Chandler Harris 261 + + Duty Ralph Waldo Emerson 261 + + Bud's Fairy Tale James Whitcomb Riley 262 + + The Boy that was Scaret o' Dyin' Annie Trumbull Slosson 268 + + What Does Little Birdie Say? Lord Tennyson 270 + + Laetus Sorte Mea + (from "The Story of a Short Life") Juliana H. Ewing 271 + + The Victor of Marengo 275 + + Good Morning Robert Browning 279 + + Miranda and Her Friend Kroof + (from "The Heart of the Ancient Wood") Charles G. D. Roberts 277 + + Little Nell Charles Dickens 282 + + Parsifal the Pure (from "Stories from Wagner") 285 + + +=NO. 4= + + Editorials 289-292 + + Charles Sumner Carl Schurz 293 + + How the Elephant Got His Trunk Rudyard Kipling 295 + + The Owl Lord Tennyson 299 + + T'nowhead's Bell J. M. Barrie 300 + + John Storm's Resolution Hall Cain 308 + + The Flood of the Floss George Eliot 314 + + The Real Muck Rake Man Henry van Dyke 319 + + The Hunt Mercy E. Baker 322 + + Francois Villon, About to Die John D. Swain 323 + + Lady Moon Lord Haughton 326 + + A Good Dinner Mary Stuart Cutting 326 + + My Rival Rudyard Kipling 328 + + Imph-m James Nicholson 328 + + Looking Forward Robert Louis Stevenson 329 + + Mrs. Atwood's Raiment Mary Stuart Cutting 330 + + Hymn of a Child Charles Wesley 341 + + The Day of Precious Penalties Marion Hill 342 + + Cradle Hymn Martin Luther 349 + + A Kentucky Cinderella F. Hopkinson Smith 350 + + At Lincoln's Tomb Robertus Love 355 + + Mammy's Pickanin' Lucy Dean Jenkins 357 + + The Old Doll Edith M. Thomas 359 + + Santa Claus Unknown 360 + + Little Christel Wm. B. Rands 361 + + Seven Times One Jean Ingelow 363 + + Daffy-Down-Dilly Anna B. Warner 364 + + The Ant and the Cricket Unknown 366 + + Cradle Hymn Isaac Watts 367 + + The Usual Way Anonymous 368 + + The Lark and the Rook Anonymous 369 + + The Gondola Race F. Hopkinson Smith 371 + + Lincoln Jonathan P. Dolliver 374 + + Spacially Jim Bessie Margon 376 + + An Opera George Ade 378 + + A Little Knight-Errant Margaret A. Richard 382 + + Jane Jones Ben King 383 + + +=NO. 5= + + Editorials 1-5 + + On Time John Milton 5 + + The Knight in the Wood E. Leicester Warren 6 + + A Little Feminine Casabianca Geo. Madden Martin 7 + + What He Got Out of It S. E. Kiser 11 + + The Play's the Thing Geo. Madden Martin 12 + + The Dancing School and Dicky Josephine Dodge Daskam 18 + + A Model Story in the Kindergarten Josephine Dodge Daskam 24 + + Fishin'? Anonymous 26 + + Ardelia in Arcady Josephine Dodge Daskam 27 + + Meriel Margaret Houston 34 + + The Old Man and "Shep" John G. Scorer 35 + + Who Knows Louise Chandler Moulton 36 + + The Negro Booker T. Washington 37 + + The Guillotine Victor Hugo 40 + + Robespierre's Last Speech Maximilian M. I. Robespierre 42 + + Secession Alex. H. Stephens 44 + + Birds Richard Henry Stoddard 47 + + The Death of Hypatia Charles Kingsley 48 + + Death Stands Above Me. Walter Savage Landor 54 + + The Tournament Sir Walter Scott 55 + + A Plea for the Old Year Louise Chandler Moulton 59 + + Fagin's Last Day Charles Dickens 60 + + A Caution to Poets. Matthew Arnold 64 + + Apollo Belvedere Ruth McEnery Stuart 65 + + An Invalid in Lodgings J. M. Barrie 71 + + The Stirrup-Cup Sidney Lanier 74 + + Das Krist Kindel. James Whitcomb Riley 75 + + Hiram Foster's Thanksgiving Turkey S. E. Kiser 77 + + The Winning of Lorna Doone R. D. Blackmore 79 + + The Sky Richard Henry Stoddard 96 + + * * * * * + +Published by PEARSON BROTHERS +29 S. Seventh St., Philadelphia + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +Variant forms of words in the original text, sometimes within the +same selection, have been retained in this ebook. Ellipses have been +standardized. Omissions in the Table of Contents match those of the +original document. + +The following typographical corrections have been made in this ebook: + + Page 17: Changed , to . + (kind of mourning.) + + Page 18: Changed You're to You've + (You've got to go.) + + Page 23: Added missing quotes; changed single to double + ('I don't know, I don't know!'") + + Page 27: Changed helpessly to helplessly + (said the young lady, helplessly) + + Page 40: Changed constanly to constantly + (constantly in mind) + + Page 40: Removed duplicate word 'these' + (these twenty-five years) + + Page 41: Changed scafforld to scaffold + (the scaffold against the scaffold) + + Page 47: Changed shown to shone + (the sun of heaven ever shone) + + Page 53: Removed stray period + (She had disappeared, and) + + Page 66: Changed constanly to constantly + (met constantly) + + Page 71: Removed duplicate quotes + (I feared," she said.) + + Page 72: Changed is to it + (but it is satisfaction) + + Page 82: Changed single-quote to double + (go to sleep.") + + Page 87: Changed by to my + (hand upon my arm) + + Page 90: Changed Doone's to Doones + (murdered by the Doones) + + Page 93: Changed though to thought + (I thought he would) + + Table of Contents: Added missing parenthesis + (from "The Heart of the Ancient Wood") + + Table of Contents: Added missing question mark to match title in text + (Fishin'?) + + Table of Contents: Changed Kris to Krist to match title in text + (Das Krist Kindel.) + + Table of Contents: Added missing word 'On' to match title in text + (On Time) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Speaker, No. 5: Volume II, Issue 1, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPEAKER, DECEMBER 1906 *** + +***** This file should be named 28498-8.txt or 28498-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/4/9/28498/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, C. St. Charleskindt, Bill +Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |