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THE ONTARIO

HIGH SCHOOL READER

BY

A. E. MARTY, M.A.

COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE, OTTAWA

[Illustration]

Authorized by the Minister of Education for Ontario
For Use In
Continuation and High Schools and Collegiate Institutes

THE CANADA PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED
TORONTO

Copyright, Canada, 1911, by

The Canada Publishing Company, Limited.

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| Transcriber's note: Words with bold font style   |
| are enclosed in equal to (=) signs.              |
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PREFACE


After communication with many of the teachers who have
been using the Principles and Practice of Oral Reading in their
classes, the author has made a number of important additions and
changes. In its amended form the book is published under the
title of the "Ontario High School Reader."

As the book is intended for the teaching of oral reading it
contains an introductory chapter on the Principles of Reading, and
selections for practice, with appended notes. An effort has also
been made to grade the selections in the order of their difficulty.
Accordingly, a number of selections, each illustrating in a marked
degree only one, or at most two, of the various elements of Vocal
Expression, have been placed at the beginning; these should, of
course, be taught before the more complex selections are attempted.

It is not intended that the pupil shall master the chapter on
the principles before beginning to read the selections; he should
become familiar with each topic as it is illustrated in the lesson.
In dealing with each lesson the teacher should first ascertain the
elements of vocal expression that it best exemplifies. He should
then discuss these elements with the pupils, using the necessary
paragraphs of the Introduction, and such black-board exercises as
he may deem necessary, until he is satisfied that the pupils are
ready to undertake the study of the selection. At the oral reading
the pupils should be able to show their mastery of the principles
thus taught. Toward the close of the course, they will naturally
read connectedly the various sections of the Introduction, in order
to obtain a comprehensive and systematic view of the principles.

To secure good reading, systematic drill on the exercises in
Vowel Sounds and in Articulation is also necessary.




TABLE OF CONTENTS

PRINCIPLES OF READING                                               1-35

Importance of Oral Reading                                             1

Mechanical Side of Oral Reading                                        2
    Correct Pronunciation, Distinct Articulation.

Expression                                                             3
    Concrete Thinking, Abstract Thinking, Emotion.

Elements of Vocal Expression                                           7
    Pause, Grouping, Time, Inflection, Pitch, Force,
    Stress, Emphasis, Shading, Perspective, Quality.


SELECTIONS 36-305

_The Banner of St. George_        Shapcott Wensley                    36

Jean Valjean and the Bishop       Victor Hugo                         38

_The Well of St. Keyne_           Robert Southey                      43

Faith, Hope and Charity           Bible                               46

_The Legend Beautiful_            Henry W. Longfellow                 47

The Vicar's Family Use Art        Oliver Goldsmith                    52

_The Soldier's Dream_             Thomas Campbell                     58

_Van Elsen_ Frederick             George Scott                        60

_Pibroch of Donuil Dhu_           Sir Walter Scott                    61

_The Day is Done_                 Henry W. Longfellow                 63

The Schoolmaster and the Boys     Charles Dickens                     65

_The Knights' Chorus_             Alfred, Lord Tennyson               70

_The Northern Star_               Unknown                             71

_The Indigo Bird_                 Ethelwyn Wetherald                  72

_The Pasture Field_               Ethelwyn Wetherald                  73

Shipwrecked                       Robert Louis Stevenson              75

_On His Blindness_                John Milton                         80

Briggs in Luck                    William M. Thackeray                81

_The Laughing Sally_              Charles G. D. Roberts               84

The Prodigal Son                  Bible                               88

_Christmas at Sea_                Robert Louis Stevenson              90

_The Evening Wind_                William Cullen Bryant               93

_Paradise and the Peri_           Thomas Moore                        95

_The Lady of Shalott_             Alfred, Lord Tennyson              100

_Home they brought her
   Warrior dead_                  Alfred, Lord Tennyson              107

The Sky                           John Ruskin                        108

_The Return of the Swallows_      Edmund W. Gosse                    111

_Barbara Frietchie_               John Greenleaf Whittier            113

Bless the Lord, O My Soul         Bible                              116

_The Eternal Goodness_            John Greenleaf Whittier            118

The King of Glory                 Bible                              119

The Four-Horse Race               "Ralph Connor"                     121

_Mrs. Malaprop's Views_           Richard B. Sheridan                126

_The Glove and the Lions_         Leigh Hunt                         131

_The Fickleness of a Roman Mob_   William Shakespeare                133

_Sir Peter and Lady Teazle_       Richard B. Sheridan                136

_The Parting of Marmion
   and Douglas_                   Sir Walter Scott                   140

_Columbus_                        Joaquin Miller                     143

From the "Apology" of Socrates    Benjamin Jowett                    145

_Highland Hospitality_            Sir Walter Scott                   151

_The Outlaw_                      Sir Walter Scott                   154

Of Studies Francis,               Lord Bacon                         157

The Influence of Athens           Thomas Babington,
                                    Lord Macaulay                    159

National Morality                 John Bright                        161

_Hamlet's Advice to the Players_  William Shakespeare                164

_Rosabelle_                       Sir Walter Scott                   166

_The Island of the Scots_         William E. Aytoun                  168

Cranford Society                  Mrs. Gaskell                       178

_Sir Galahad_                     Alfred, Lord Tennyson              182

_Song for Saint Cecilia's Day_    John Dryden                        186

_The Day was Lingering_           Charles Heavysege                  189

_On First Looking into
   Chapman's  Homer_              John Keats                         189

_Great Things Were Ne'er
   Begotten in an Hour_           Sir Daniel Wilson                  190

_A Wood Lyric_                    William Wilfred Campbell           191

_To Night_                        Percy Bysshe Shelley               193

The Opening Scene at the Trial    Thomas Babington, Lord
  of Warren Hastings                Macaulay                         194

Peroration of Opening Speech
  against Edmund Burke            Warren Hastings                    201

_The Song My Paddle Sings_        E. Pauline Johnson                 203

_The Defence of the Bridge_       Thomas Babington, Lord
                                    Macaulay                         206

On the Death of King Edward VII   Sir Herbert Henry
                                    Asquith                          217

The Heroes of Magersfontein      _The London Daily News_             221

_Funeral of Julius Cæsar_         William Shakespeare                225

_The Revenge_                     Alfred, Lord Tennyson              234

_Hervé Riel_                      Robert Browning                    241

The Handwriting on the Wall       Bible                              248

Paul's Defence before King
   Agrippa                        Bible                              251

_The Stranded Ship_               Charles G. D. Roberts              254

_Sir Patrick Spens_               Old Ballad                         258

_King John and the Abbot of
  Canterbury_                     Old Ballad                         262

The Key to Human Happiness        George Eliot                       266

_The Vision of Sir Launfal_       James Russell Lowell               271

On the Death of Gladstone         Sir Wilfrid Laurier                278

_The Downfall of Wolsey_          William Shakespeare                286

_The Italian in England_          Robert Browning                    290

Advantages of Imperial
   Federation                     George Monro Grant                 296

_Collect for Dominion Day_        Charles G. D. Roberts              305

       *       *       *       *       *

APPENDIX A. Exercises in Vocalization and Articulation 306

         B. Physical Exercises                                       312

         C. List of Reference Books                                  314

       *       *       *       *       *



PRINCIPLES OF READING

=Importance of Oral Reading=


There are several reasons why every boy or girl should strive to
become a good reader. In the first place, good oral reading is an
accomplishment in itself. It affords a great deal of pleasure to
others as well as to ourselves. In the second place, it improves our
everyday speech and is also a preparation for public speaking; for the
one who reads with distinctness and an accent of refinement is likely
to speak in the same way, whether in private conversation or on the
public platform. Moreover, it is only one step from reading aloud
before the class to recitation, and another step from recitation to
public speaking. Lastly, oral reading is the best method of bringing
out and conveying to others and to oneself all that a piece of
literature expresses. For example, the voice is needed to bring out
the musical effects of poetry. The following lines will illustrate
this point:

  But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung
  The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.

Here the music of the rhythm and the harmony between sound and sense
would be almost entirely lost in silent reading.

The voice, too, is often the surest and most effective means of
conveying differences of meaning and feeling in both prose and poetry.
The following words from _Hervé Riel_ (pp. 241-247) may be made to
convey different meanings according to the intonation of the voice:

  Burn the fleet and ruin France?

This may be read to express hesitation and deliberation, or, as is
the evident intention, shewn by the context as well as by the
punctuation, to express Hervé Riel's surprise and indignation that
such a thought should be entertained.


=Mechanical Side of Oral Reading=

Now in what does oral reading consist? It consists, first of all, in
recognizing the words, pronouncing them correctly, and articulating
them distinctly. The pupil in the First Book, who is learning to read,
is trying to master this side of reading, which is the mechanical
side. He cannot be too careful as to the habits of speech he forms;
for correct position of the organs of speech and proper control of the
breath make for correct pronunciation and distinct articulation, which
are two of the foundation stones of good reading.

By =Correct Pronunciation=, we mean the pronunciation approved by a
standard dictionary. Elegance and refinement of speech depend largely
on the correct pronunciation of the vowel sounds. The vowel _a_, which
is sounded in seven different ways in the English language, presents
the greatest difficulty. Many people recognize at most, only the sound
of a in _at_, _ate_, _all_, _far_, and _mortal_ respectively. They
ignore the sound as in _air_, and the shorter quantity of the Italian
_a_ in _ask_, giving the sound of a in _ate_ to the former and of _a_
in _at_ or _a_ in _all_ or _a_ in _far_ to the latter. Another
difficulty is that of distinguishing the sound of _oo_ in _roof,
food_, etc., from the sound of _oo_ in _book_ and _good_, and from the
sound of _u_ in such words as _pure_ and _duke_.

Pronunciation, when perfectly pure, should be free from what we call
provincialisms; that is, from any peculiarity of tone, accent, or
vowel sound, which would mark the speaker as coming from any
particular locality. If our pronunciation is perfectly pure, it does
not indicate, in the slightest degree, the part of the country in
which we have lived.

=Distinct articulation= requires that each syllable should receive its
full value, and that the end of a word should be enunciated as
distinctly as the beginning. It depends largely on the way in which we
utter the consonants, just as correct pronunciation depends on the
enunciation of the vowels. Final consonants are easily slurred,
especially in the case of words ending in two or more consonants,
which present special difficulties of articulation. Such words are
_mends_, _seethes_, _thirsteth_, _breathed_, etc. Sometimes, too, the
careless reader fails to articulate two consonants separately when the
first word ends with the consonant or consonant sound with which the
second begins; for example, _Sir Richard Grenville lay_, _Spanish
ships_; or when the first word ends with a consonant and the second
begins with a vowel, as in _eats apples_, _not at all_, _an ox_, etc.
On the other hand, too evident an effort to secure the proper
enunciation of the sound elements should be avoided, since a stilted
mode of utterance is thus produced.

Exercises for drill in the vowel sounds and in articulation are
provided in Appendix A.


=Expression=

Oral reading, however, even in its earliest stages, consists in more
than recognizing words, pronouncing them correctly, and articulating
them distinctly. It includes thinking thoughts, seeing mental
pictures, (which is only another form of thinking) and feeling varied
emotions--all while the mechanical act of reading is going on. To
illustrate, let us take a line from _The Island of the Scots_:

  High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore.

If we wish to read this line well, what must we do besides pronouncing
the words correctly and articulating them distinctly? We must think
about the meaning of what we read. This includes two kinds of
thinking. In the example we first think the picture presented by the
words; that is, we make a mental image of the little band of Scots,
hand in hand, trying to ford the swiftly flowing waters of the swollen
river. This is called concrete thinking. At the same time we form some
judgment based on the picture. We think of the great determination and
courage these men showed in struggling forward in spite of the danger.
This is called =abstract thinking=. But, as we have said, a reader
does more than think in these two ways--he feels; and feeling, or
=emotion=, comes of itself, if the reader thinks in the two ways
described, for emotion is the result of thinking. Especially is it the
result of concrete thinking; for what we see, even if only with the
mind's eye, stirs our emotions more than that of which we think in the
abstract.

While reading the line just quoted, there are three emotions which
spring from the thinking. As we see these men struggling against the
strong current we have an emotion of fear for them; then as we think
of their determination and courage in the face of such great danger,
an emotion of determination comes to us, for we identify ourselves
with their fortunes; and lastly we are filled with admiration for
their heroism. Thus we experience the three emotions of fear,
determination, and admiration, while performing the mechanical act of
reading the words. These emotions, together with the two kinds of
thinking mentioned, affect the voice and the manner of reading, and
determine what we call =expression=. If the words were simply repeated
mechanically there would be no expression. Since expression involves
the employment of so many different powers at one time, a mastery of
the art of expression is much harder to acquire, than a mastery of
merely the mechanical side of reading.

Accordingly, good vocal expression springs primarily from something
within ourselves--that is, from our mental and emotional state. It
cannot be acquired by mechanical imitation, whether of the reading of
another, or of the movements, sounds, and gestures indicated in the
subject matter of what we read. Nevertheless it is very stimulating
to hear a selection well read, not because a model is thus supplied
for our imitation, but because we get a grasp of the selection as a
whole, and because the voice, which possesses great power in stirring
the imagination and the feelings, thus prepares within us the mental
and emotional state necessary for the correct expression.

In the same way, imitation of the movements, sounds, and gestures,
suggested by the subject matter may be a stimulus to thought and
feeling when preparing a selection, since what we have actually
reproduced is more real to us than what we have only imagined. After
such preparation, imitation, if it enters into the reading at all,
will be spontaneous, and not intentional and forced. In reading _The
Charge of the Light Brigade_ or _The Ride from Ghent to Aix_, we do
not designedly hurry along to imitate rapidity of movement; but,
rather, the imagination having been kindled by the picture, our pulse
is quickened, and the voice moves rapidly in sympathy with the
feelings aroused.

In the following extract (p. 216) the atmosphere is one of joy. The
reader is moved through sympathy with Horatius, and his voice
indicates the joy of the Romans, but he does not attempt to imitate
vocally, or by gesture, the "shouts," "clapping," and "weeping":

  Now round him throng the Fathers
  To press his gory hands;
  And now, with shouts and clapping,
  And noise of weeping loud,
  He enters through the River-Gate,
  Borne by the joyous crowd.

Sometimes, as already stated, we imitate spontaneously:

  Back darted Spurius Lartius;
  Herminius darted back:
  And, as they passed, beneath their feet
  They felt the timbers crack.

Here we imitate spontaneously the movement expressive of sudden fear.
Our action is prompted by our own fears for their safety.

Sometimes the feeling is still more complex. In reading the following
we spontaneously reproduce Sextus' alternate hate and fear which,
moreover, we tinge with our own contempt:

  Thrice looked he at the city;
  Thrice looked he at the dead;
  And thrice came on in fury,
  And thrice turned back in dread:
  And, white with fear and hatred,
  Scowled at the narrow way
  Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
  The bravest Tuscans lay.

In reading the little poem from _The Princess_, (page 107) note how we
are influenced by the tense emotion of the attendants who speak. We do
not try to imitate them; but having made the scene stand out before
us, we speak as we in imagination hear them, in an aspirated tone of
voice:

  She must weep or she will die.

In the last line it would savour of melodrama to try to impersonate
the lady as she says:

  Sweet my child, I live for thee.

The important point is to show intelligent sympathy with her speech,
not to imitate her manner of uttering it.

On the other hand we must not make the mistake of supposing that if we
get the thought and the emotion, the true vocal expression will
follow. One who has a fine appreciation of a piece of literature may,
notwithstanding, read it very indifferently. Even in conversation
where we are interpreting vocally our own thoughts and feelings, we
sometimes misplace emphasis or employ the wrong inflection. How much
more likely we are to fall into such errors when we attempt to
interpret vocally from a book the thoughts of another.


=Elements Of Vocal Expression=

In order to criticise ourselves or understand intelligent criticism,
we must have a knowledge of the laws that govern speech--that is, we
must know what properties of tone or what acts of the voice correspond
to certain mental and emotional states. For example, the amount and
character of thinking done while we read determines the rate of
utterance; the purpose or motive of the thought and its completeness
or incompleteness are indicated by an upward or downward slide of the
voice; the nervous tension expresses itself in a certain key; the
physical and mental energy, in a certain power or volume of the voice;
and the character of the emotion is reflected in the quality. These
principles of vocal expression are known technically as the =elements=
of =time=, =inflection=, =pitch=, =force=, and =quality=. Closely
connected with these elements are =pause=, =grouping=, =stress=,
=emphasis=, =shading=, and =perspective=.

=Pause.= It must be quite clear that when we are reading silently, for
the purpose of getting the thought for ourselves, our minds are at
work as has been described. We shall now examine how this work done by
the mind affects the voice and produces what we call good expression
when we are reading aloud for the purpose of conveying thought to
others. As an illustration we shall take an example from _The Glove
and the Lions_:

  The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,
  And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make his bride.

In these lines there are certain words or phrases which stand out
prominently, since they call up mental pictures, namely: "nobles,"
"benches round," "Count de Lorge," and "one." In order to give time
to make these mental pictures, we naturally pause after each one. At
the end of the first line we combine the details, making a larger
mental image, with the result that we make a long pause after "side."
In reading the second line, the eye and the mind run ahead of the
voice, and the reader, wishing to impress the listener with the new
and important idea "Count de Lorge," pauses before it as well as after
it. In the same way he pauses before the phrase, "he hoped to make his
bride," to prepare the mind of the listener to receive the impression.
Thus we see that, if the mind is working, a pause occurs after a word
while we are making a mental image or trying to realize the idea more
fully, and also often before we express an important idea, in order to
prepare the mind of the listener for what is to come.

A very useful exercise in the study of pause is to image the pictures
in selections such as the following:

  Come from deep glen (picture) and
    From mountain so rocky; (picture)
  The war pipe and pennon (picture)
    Are at Inverlocky.
  Come every hill-plaid, and
    True heart that wears one; (picture)
  Come every steel blade, (picture) and
    Strong hand that bears one. (picture)

  Leave untended the herd, (picture)
    The flock without shelter; (picture)
  Leave the corpse uninterred, (picture)
    The bride at the altar; (picture)
  Leave the deer, (picture) leave the steer, (picture)
    Leave nets and barges: (picture)
  Come with your fighting gear,
    Broadswords and targes, (picture)

Then, too, in passing from one idea or thought to another, the mind
requires time to make the transition:

  Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
    Into the stream beneath:
  Herminius struck at Seius,
    And clove him to the teeth:
  At Picus brave Horatius
    Darted one fiery thrust;
  And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
    Clashed in the bloody dust.

Here the mind passes in succession from the action of Lartius to that
of Herminius and that of Horatius. A long pause is required after
"beneath," "teeth," and "dust," with a shorter pause after "Seius" and
after "thrust." Further, if the thoughts concern actions far apart,
more time is required to make the transition, and hence a longer
pause:

  All day long that free flag toss'd
  Over the heads of the rebel host.

  Ever its torn folds rose and fell
  On the loyal winds that loved it well;

  And through the hill-gaps, sunset light
  Shone over it with a warm good-night.

  Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
  And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Note the transition in thought from the day on which these stirring
events are supposed to have taken place to the present time. This is
indicated by a long pause after "warm good-night."

Sometimes the mind requires time to fill in ideas suggested but not
expressed:

  Forty flags with their crimson bars,
  Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
  Of noon look'd down and saw not one.

Here, the tearing down of the flags between the morning and noon, is
suggested to the mind; hence a long pause after "wind."

Where an ellipsis occurs and the meaning is not obvious, there is a
pause to give time to realize the logical connection:

  I'd rather rove with Edmund there
  Than reign our English queen.

  Here's the English can and will!

Note the pauses after "reign," and "English" (second example).

In such examples as the following where the meaning is obvious, the
pauses after "them," "one," "weary," and "wounded," make prominent the
important idea following:

  And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make
    his bride.

  The weary to sleep and the wounded to die.

When preparing to read a selection, it is of great importance to make
the leading thoughts stand out clearly in the mind so that we may be
able to present them one by one. The poem _Barbara Frietchie_ (p. 113)
could be divided into paragraphs with some such titles as the
following: (1) the town of Frederick and its surroundings, (2) the
approach of the army, (3) the tearing down of the flags, (4) the
raising of Barbara Frietchie's flag, (5) Stonewall Jackson and his
men, and so on. Each of the paragraphs is a complete section of the
poem, and requires a well-marked pause before passing on to the next
one.

=Grouping.= In the extract from _The Glove and the Lions_, used above
to illustrate pause, the mental pictures and important ideas are
suggested in nearly every ease by a single word. Ideas are, however,
suggested as often by groups of words as by single words. These groups
are treated as single words, and may take pauses before or after them
as the case may be. The reader, who is thinking as he reads, will
group together words that express one idea, or symbolize one picture,
presenting these ideas and pictures to himself and to the listener one
by one, and separating by a pause, of greater or less length, those
not closely connected.

  A slouched leather cap|| half hid his face| bronzed
  by the sun and wind| and dripping with sweat.|| He
  wore a cravat twisted like a rope|| coarse blue
  trousers| worn and shabby| white on one knee| and
  with holes in the other;|| an old ragged gray blouse|
  patched on one side with a piece of green cloth|
  sewed with twine;|| upon his back| was a well-filled
  knapsack,|| in his hand| he carried an enormous
  knotted stick;|| his stockingless feet| were in hobnailed
  shoes;|| his hair was cropped|| and his beard
  long.

Here the double vertical lines mark off groups of words which express
one idea or symbolize one picture, and which are therefore each
separated from the other by a well-marked pause. The single vertical
lines indicate a shorter pause between the subdivisions of each group.
The phrase "an old ragged gray blouse patched on one side with a piece
of green cloth sewed with twine" presents one picture by itself, and
is separated from the context by a long pause, but each detail in this
picture is presented in turn to the mind's eye, hence the shorter
pauses after "blouse," "cloth," and "twine."

The reader should be careful not to allow pause and grouping to
produce a jerky effect, thus interfering with the rhythm. This applies
especially to poetry, which demands, in order to preserve the rhythm,
that the caesural pause should not be slighted, and that there should
be a more or less marked pause at the end of each line:

  And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side
  To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropped and died.

In the second line, the caesural pause occurs after "spot," but the
phrase "from the spot where he had dropped and died" expresses one
idea and must be given as a whole. The rhythm and the grouping appear
to be at variance; but the difficulty is easily overcome by making the
caesural pause shorter than the pause after "heather" which introduces
the group, and at the same time, by not allowing the voice to fall on
the word "spot."

The following affords another instance where the grouping appears to
interfere with the rhythm:

  If the husband of this gifted well
  Shall drink before his wife,
  A happy man thenceforth is he,
  For he shall be master for life.

"Of this gifted well" is evidently not connected in thought with
"husband." It must be separated from "husband" by a pause and attached
to "shall drink" at the beginning of the next line. To do this, it is
not, however, necessary to omit the pause at the end of the line; for
this would mar the effect of the rhythm. The difficulty is again
overcome by making the pause at the end of the line shorter than the
pauses which mark the grouping, and by not allowing the voice to fall
on "well."

=Time= is the rate at which we read. It is fast or slow according to
the number and the length of the pauses between words and phrases, and
also according to the length of time the reader dwells on the words
themselves. There is perhaps no more frequent criticism made on
reading than that it is too fast. What does this mean? It means that
the reader is not doing enough thinking as he repeats the words.
Consequently, he does not dwell on words that are full of meaning, nor
pause before and after words and phrases to make the mental picture
and to grasp the thought more fully. Moreover, for the benefit of the
listener, the reading should be slower than is required by the reader
for himself. The reader, with his eye on the page, can allow his eye
and mind to run ahead of his voice, and can thus realize the thought
in less time than the listener. The following line calls for a
comparatively small amount of thinking:

  High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore.

Here, there is little except what is on the surface, and the thoughts
suggested by the words are of the kind to make the mind think rapidly.
Hence the line is read in faster time than the average rate. Reading
may, accordingly, be fast from one or both of two causes. First, when
there is no background of thought for the mind to dwell upon, and
second when the nature of the thoughts themselves, such as the
narration of the rapid succession of events, impels to quick mental
action. The following lines from _Pibroch of Donuil Dhu_ (p. 61) will
serve as an illustration:

  Faster come, faster come,
    Faster and faster,
  Chief, vassal, page and groom,
    Tenant and master.
  Fast they come, fast they come;
    See how they gather! etc.

So, too, reading may be slow from the exact opposite of these two
reasons. First, when there is a great back-ground of thought suggested
by the words, and second, when the reflective and meditative nature of
the thought leads to slow action on the part of the mind. In some
selections both of these conditions are present; in others only one of
them. In _The Day is Done_ (p. 63) there is little thought below the
surface; but the reading is slow because the quiet, meditative nature
of the thought tends to slow mental action:

  And the night shall be filled with music,
    And the cares that infest the day,
  Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
    And as silently steal away.

Both conditions, however, exist in the lines from _Barbara Frietchie_
which describe the effect produced on Stonewall Jackson by Barbara
Frietchie's heroic action and daring speech:

  A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
  Over the face of the leader came.

A great many thoughts are suggested by these two lines. The heart of
the gallant Southerner is touched at the sight of this weak, decrepit
old woman with the courage and boldness of youth, ready to die for her
principles. His stern features relax and a look of sadness passes over
his face. The taunting words "spare your country's flag" have struck
home. The tragic side of civil war is forced upon him--father fighting
against son, and brother against brother, the sons of freedom firing
at their own star-spangled banner. The sorrow and the shame of it all
rise before him, and the crimson flush mounts to his brow. With this
undercurrent of thought in the mind, it is impossible to read rapidly.
Besides, the reflective nature of the thoughts themselves tends to
make one repeat the words slowly.

Sometimes, again, reading is faster than the moderate rate because of
the unimportance of the events or facts:

  He spoke of the grass, the flowers and the trees,
  Of the singing birds and the humming bees;
  Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
  The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

Note the lightness with which the unimportant details of conversation
are skimmed over.


=Inflection.= If we listen to the speech of the people around us, we
can easily detect an upward slide of the voice on some words, a
downward slide on others, and on others again a combination of the
two. This slide of the voice on words--generally on the accented
syllable of an emphatic word--is called =inflection=, and the various
inflections are known as _rising_ (/), _falling_ (\), _rising
circumflex_ (\/), and _falling_ circumflex (/\).

Each inflection has a definite and fixed meaning recognized by every
one, and it is because of the laws of inflection that we can tell what
meaning a speaker intends to convey when he uses certain words; for
often the same words may carry two or three different meanings
according to the inflection. The simple word "Yes," with an abrupt
downward slide, expresses decided affirmation. When spoken with an
upward slide, it expresses interrogation and is equivalent to "Is that
really so?" When it has a combination of the downward and upward slide
or a rising circumflex inflection, the meaning is no longer simple but
complex. There is an assertion combined with doubt. It is equivalent
to saying: "I think so but I am not really sure." In such a sentence
as: "Do not say 'yes,'" where the idea "but say 'no,'" is merely
implied, but not formally expressed, the word "yes" has a combination
of the upward and downward slide or a falling circumflex inflection.

If we take an idea for its own sake, if it is independent and complete
in itself, the voice has the downward slide or falling inflection on
the words which stand for the central idea:

  My good blade carves the casques of men,
    My tough lance thrusteth sure,
  My strength is as the strength of ten,
    Because my heart is pure.
  The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
    The hard brands shiver on the steel,
  The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
    The horse and rider reel.

Each statement is complete in itself and has the falling inflection.

Sometimes there is a slight downward slide before the statement is
completed, because the mind feels that the ideas already expressed
are of sufficient force to give them the value of completeness:

  My strength is as the strength of tèn,
    Because my heart is pure.

  And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and còld,
  And the pikes were all broken or bènt, and the powder was all of it
    spènt;
  And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side.

Note the momentary completeness on "ten," "cold," "bent," and "spent,"
requiring the falling inflection.

If on the other hand an idea is incomplete, either pointing forward to
some other idea or being subordinate, the voice has the upward slide
or rising inflection. The rising inflection, like the falling, may be
long or short, more or less abrupt, according to the importance of the
thought:

  Shé, with all a monarch's príde,
  Felt them in her bosom glow.

"She" points forward to the predicate "felt" and because of the
importance of the idea it takes a long rising inflection; "with all a
monarch's pride" being subordinate and incomplete also requires the
voice to be kept up, but takes a shorter rising inflection.

It is of the greatest importance to know the exact purpose of the
thought, so that the voice may, of itself, give the corresponding
inflection:

  And you may gather garlánds thére
  Would grace a summer quèen.

The sense is evidently not complete in the first line, the intention
being to emphasize the beauty of the garlands to be gathered, and not
merely to state that they may be gathered there. When the reader
understands the exact meaning he will convey it by keeping the rising
inflection on "garlands."

Similar to the foregoing is the following:

  There is not a wífe in the wést cóuntry
  But has heard of the Wèll of St. Kèyne.

The sense is not complete until we read the second line. The rising
inflection on "country" indicates this and connects the first line
with the second, bringing out the meaning, that every wife in the west
country has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.

Sometimes we have a series of rising inflections, all pointing forward
to the leading statement which is to follow and which is necessary to
complete the sense, for example:

  Of man's first disobédience and the frúit
  Of that forbidden trée, whose mortal táste
  Brought déath into the wórld, and all our wóe,
  With loss of Éden, till one greater mán
  Restóre us, and regáin the blissful séat,
  Sing, heàvenly Mùse.

Incompleteness may be suggested by a negative statement or its
equivalent:

  Nót from the grand old másters,
    Nót from the bárds sublime,
  Whose distant footsteps echo
    Through the corridors of Time.

  I do not know what I was pláying,
    Or what I was dréaming thén,
  But I struck one chord of music
    Like the sound of a great Amen.

Note the rising inflection on these negative clauses.

On the same principle the rising inflection is used on the negative
statements of persuasive argument as in the _Apology of Socrates_ (p.
145).

  But I thought that I ought not to do anything
  common or mean, in the hour of danger: nor do I
  now repent of the manner of my defence.

  For neither in war nor yet at law ought any man
  to use every way of escaping death.

  Not so; the deficiency which led to my conviction
  was not of words--certainly not.

Doubt and hesitation also imply incompleteness:

  He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!
  King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wondrous fine;
  I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!

Note the rising inflection on the first two lines where the lady is
still in doubt as to what shall be the test of De Lorge's love, and
the falling inflection on the last one when she has reached a
decision.

Pleading and entreaty also convey a sense of incompleteness and take
the rising inflection:

  Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
  To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

  Good Sir Richard, tell us now,
  For to fight is but to die!

A direct interrogation, that is, one that can be answered by "Yes" or
"No", implies incompleteness in the mind of the questioner and
requires a decided rising inflection:

  Is your name Shýlock?

  May you stéad me? Will you pléasure me? Shall I knów your ánswer?

Questions that require an explanatory answer and cannot be answered by
"Yes" or "No," do not convey an idea of incompleteness, being merely
equivalent to the statement of a desire for certain information.
Consequently they take the falling inflection:

  _Flav._ Speàk, whàt tràde art thòu?
  _1st Cit._ Why, sir, a carpenter.
  _Mar._ Where is thy leather àpron, and thy rùle?
  What dost thou with thy best appàrel òn?--
  You, sir, whàt tràde are yoù?

The purpose or motive of a question must be considered. We must know
whether the question is asked for information, or whether its purpose
is to give information; that is, whether it is only another way of
making an assertion--what is sometimes called a question of appeal.
When Shylock asks Portia: "Shall I not have barely my principal?" he
does so with the direct purpose of learning his sentence. His question
can be answered by "Yes" or "No" and the rising inflection is used.
But when he asks: "On what compulsion must I?" he means simply to give
the information that there is no power on earth to compel him. This is
a complete thought, hence the falling inflection. Other examples are:

  Have you e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

  God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

  What conquest brings he home?
  What tributaries follow him to Rome,
  To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?

The opposite inflections on antithetical words or phrases are also due
to this law of completeness and incompleteness. The first part of the
antithesis usually has the rising inflection marking incompleteness,
and the second, the falling, marking completeness.

  Hís blast is heard at merry mórn,
  And mìne at dèad of nìght.

  For this thy brother was déad, and is àlive again;
  and was lóst, and is foùnd.

Similarly, in a series of words or phrases parallel in construction,
all have the rising inflection but the last:

  As Cæsar lóved me, I wéep for him; as he was
  fortúnate, I rejóice at it; as he was válíant, I hónour
  him; but as he was ambìtious, I slèw him! There is
  teárs for his lóve; jóy for his fórtune; hónour for
  his válour; and deàth for his ambìtion.

  Cráfty men contémn studies; símple men admíre
  them; and wìse men ùse them.

If one part of the antithesis is a negation, it takes the rising
inflection, whether it comes first or second. This is owing
to the fact that, as illustrated above, a negation implies
incompleteness. The other part then takes the falling inflection:

  Fall into the hands of Gòd, not into the hands of Spáin.

  I come to bùry Cæsar, not to práise him.

  I said an èlder soldier, not a bétter.

Often only one part of the antithesis is expressed, the contrast being
implied. In such a case, the voice brings out the contrast by placing
a combination of the two inflections of the regularly expressed
antithesis on the one word which does duty for both parts: Cassius
says: "I said an elder soldier, not a better" in reply to Brutus'
speech--"You say you are a better soldier." The antithesis is fully
expressed, and the voice places the falling inflection on "elder" and
the rising inflection on "better." If Cassius had omitted the words
"not a better," the very same meaning could have been conveyed by
placing a combination of the rising and the falling inflection or a
falling circumflex on the word "elder," thus--"I said an êlder
soldier." In the next line he goes on to say "Did I say bĕtter?"
Here, there is an implied contrast with "elder," which is expressed by
a combination of the falling and the rising inflection or a rising
circumflex. From these two examples, we can see that the law of
completeness and incompleteness holds good with the compound or
circumflex inflection, just as it does with the simple inflection, and
determines whether the circumflex shall be rising or falling.

A very common mistake in reading is to use the circumflex inflection
in emphasizing a word, thus making a contrast where none is intended.
"Ramped and roared the lions" with a falling circumflex inflection on
"lions," instead of a simple falling inflection, suggests that the
tigers or some other animals did not ramp and roar. For similar
reasons, avoid the circumflex when emphasizing "hand" and "feet" in
"put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet."

As has already been stated, it is necessary to know the motive behind
the words. When Shylock says: "O wise and upright judge," his
intention is evidently to bestow sincere praise. The reader, knowing
this, instinctively gives a straight slide. Later, when Gratiano says:
"O upright judge, O learned judge!" his intention is to taunt and hold
up to ridicule; there is a double meaning conveyed, which finds its
natural expression in a curved inflection.

Compare the curved inflections in the cobbler's speeches in Act I.
Scene I, of _Julius Cæsar_ (p. 133) when he is fencing with Marullus,
with the straight inflections of his final speech when he has thrown
aside his raillery and speaks with sincerity:

    ~     ~       ~               ~
  Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself
      ~    ~
  in more work. But, indeèd, sir, we make hòliday to

  see C`æsar, and to rejoìce in his triùmph.

One writer has said: "Where there is simple and genuine thought, deep
and sincere feeling, wherever the eye is single, the inflections of
the voice are straight; a crook in the mind however is indicated by a
crook in the voice."

=Pitch= is the key of the voice. A change of pitch is a leap from one
key to another during silence. Inflection, as we have seen, is a
gradual change in the key while the voice is speaking. The pitch or
key depends upon the muscular tension of the vocal chords, which act
like the strings of a musical instrument: the greater the tension, the
higher the key. Muscular tension implies nervous tension and this is
dependent upon the mental state. If the mind is calm, the nervous and
muscular tension is normal, and the speaker uses the key habitual to
him in his ordinary speech. If the mental state is one of excitement,
the key is higher because of greater nervous and muscular tension. If,
on the other hand, the mental state is one of depression, the key is
lower because of relaxed muscular tension.

In _The Defence of the Bridge_ (p. 206) the Romans, seeing the danger
of the heroes, are wrought up to a high state of nervous tension which
finds its natural expression in the high-pitched voice:

  "Come back, come back Horatius!"
    Loud cried the Fathers all.
  "Back, Lartius! back Herminius!
    Back, ere the ruin fall!"

Contrast with this the lower key of Horatius, who is calm and
self-controlled:

  "O Tiber! Father Tiber!
    To whom the Romans pray,
  A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
    Take thou in charge this day!"

Observe the gradual rise in pitch with the increase of tension or
excitement in the following:

  And now he feels the bottom;
    Now on dry earth he stands;
  Now round him throng the Fathers
    To press his gory hands;
  And now, with shouts and clapping,
    And noise of weeping loud,
  He enters through the River-Gate,
    Borne by the joyous crowd.

In the following lines, where the Douglas holds communion with
himself, the tension is low chiefly because of his great mental
depression, and, consequently, he speaks in a low key:

  Yes! all is true my fears could frame;
  A prisoner lies the noble Graeme,
  And fiery Roderick soon will feel
  The vengeance of the royal steel.
  I, only I, can ward their fate,--
  God grant the ransom come not late.
  The abbess hath her promise given.
  My child shall be the bride of Heaven:--
  Be pardoned one repining tear!
  For he, who gave her, knows how dear,
  How excellent! but that is by,
  And now my business is--to die.

The low pitch is also partly due to the fact that the Douglas is
speaking to himself, and has no desire to communicate his thoughts to
another; for the effort to communicate thought causes increased
tension.

Again, it requires greater effort to address a person who is at a
distance than one close at hand, or to address a large audience than
a small one. Observe the comparatively high pitch in which Antony (p.
225) begins his oration:

  Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
  I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.

If the reader wishes to give prominence to a thought, the effort put
forth causes muscular tension, resulting in a higher pitch. On the
other hand, a thought, which the reader regards as not of special
importance to the listener, finds expression in lower pitch, more as
if he were addressing himself:

  Bold words!--but, though the beast of game
  The privilege of chase may claim,
  Though space and law the stag we lend,
  Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,
  Who ever recked, where, how, or when,
  The prowling fox was trapped or slain?

Observe the lower pitch of the subordinate clauses in the first four
lines, and the higher pitch in the last two lines which project the
leading thought.

  "I think, boys," said the schoolmaster, when the
  clock struck twelve, "that I shall give an extra half-holiday
  this afternoon."

Similarly, the narrative clause "said the schoolmaster" which
interrupts the direct speech is read in lower pitch and is separated
by a marked pause before and after.

Parenthetical expressions, also for the same reason, are read in lower
pitch.

  She had not perceived--how could she until she
  had lived longer?--the inmost truth of the old
  monk's outpourings, that renunciation remains sorrow,
  though a sorrow borne willingly.

  He (Mr. Pickwick) would not deny that he was
  influenced by human passions, and human feelings,
  (cheers)--possibly by human weaknesses--(loud
  cries of "No"); but this he would say, that if ever
  the fire of self-importance broke out in his bosom,
  the desire to benefit the human race in preference,
  effectually quenched it.

Passages which are collateral or co-ordinate in construction, and
equally balanced, will find their natural vocal expression in the same
pitch and, of course, the pitch varies as the attitude of the mind
changes:

  Forty flags with their silver stars,
  Forty flags with their crimson bars,
  Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
  Of noon looked down and saw not one.

The first two lines have the same pitch, because there is no
difference in intensity of feeling or in the mental conception. There
is, however, an entire change of thought beginning with "the sun."
This is accompanied by a change of pitch.

=Force.= Force is vocal energy; in other words, it is the power or
volume of the voice, and is determined by the amount of physical and
mental energy exerted by the speaker.

The language of everyday conversation, when not marked by intensity of
feeling or purpose, requires only a moderate amount of physical and
mental energy and is expressed by _moderate force_. Intensity of
feeling or purpose, on the other hand, is accompanied by a great
expenditure of energy, and finds its natural outlet in _strong force_.
In the following lines, (p. 132) the king's emphatic approval of De
Lorge's action and his vehement condemnation of the lady's vanity find
expression in strong force:

  "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where
    he sat:
  "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"

Compare the moderate amount of energy expended in uttering the
narrative clauses "cried Francis," "and he rose from where he sat,"
and "quoth he," which should be read with moderate force.

More physical energy is expended in making one's self understood at a
distance than near at hand, and in addressing a large audience than a
small one; hence strong force is used in the following where it is
accompanied by a loud tone of voice:

  "Come back, come back Horatius!"
  Loud cried the Fathers all.

But strong force does not necessarily imply a loud tone of voice:

  "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus;
    "Will not the villain drown?
  But for this stay, ere close of day
    We should have sacked the town!"

Here Sextus gives vent to his concentrated hate for Horatius and
speaks with strong force, but not in a loud tone of voice.

The effort to influence the mind and action of others draws on a great
fund of mental energy; hence commands, persuasion, and argument, all
find their vocal expression in strong force. Hervé Riel, urging the
captains to allow him to pilot the ships, speaks with strong force:

  Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way!
  Only let me lead the line,

  When the mental or physical energy is at a low ebb we
  speak with _weak force_:

  But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
  Was just that I was leaving home, and my folks were growing old.

  Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
  To sway with the long-weed, swing with the drowned,
  Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
  Far below the keels of the outward bound.

For the same reason such poems as _The Day is Done_, (p. 63) and Part
IV, of _The Lady of Shalott_, (p. 200) are read with gentle force.

A change in force often accompanies a change in pitch. The lower pitch
of parenthetical expressions, and narrative clauses which interrupt
direct discourse, is accompanied by weaker force, and the higher pitch
resulting from the efforts to make one's self heard at a distance is
accompanied by stronger force.

=Stress= is force applied to the vowel sound. When we are taken by
surprise and give expression to it by means of the one word "Oh," we
apply the force or volume of the voice to the beginning of the vowel
sound. This is called _initial or radical stress_ (>). When we wish to
give a very emphatic denial to a statement, or to insist on a refusal
to some persistent request we say "No," gradually increasing the force
of the voice to the last part of the vowel sound. This is called
_final_ or _vanishing stress_ (<). Again, if our minds are uplifted
with wonder and delight at something we have heard or seen, we exclaim
"Oh" applying the force to the middle of the vowel sound. This swell
of the vowel sound is called _median stress_ (<>).

It has already been pointed out that force depends upon the _amount_
of energy. The above examples show that stress or the location of
force depends upon the _kind_ of mental energy, or the attitude of
mind, whether it be that of abruptness, of insistence, or of uplift.

All speech has a slight tendency toward initial stress, because the
effort made by the vocal chords to articulate sound is characterized
by abruptness. If, in addition, the mental energy of the speaker
possesses abruptness through sudden impulse or emotion, or through
unconscious imitation of sound or movement, the initial stress is
very prominent:

  _Where_ is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
  _What_ dost thou with thy best apparel on?--
  _You_, sir, _what trade_ are _you_?

  _Quick_, as it fell, from the broken staff
  Dame Barbara _snatched_ the silken scarf.

  She leaned far out on the window-sill,
  And _shook_ it forth with a royal will.

  While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
  As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

If the speaker desires to impress on others his own feelings or
convictions, the final stress is the result. Such insistence is found
in the expression of anger, scorn, indignation, and determination:

  _Burn_ the fleet and _ruin_ France?
  That were _worse_ than _fifty_ Hogues!
  Sirs, they _know_ I speak the truth!
  Sirs, _believe_ me, _there's a way_!

In the first two lines Hervé Riel wishes to make others feel his own
indignation at the thought of burning the fleet. In the last two, he
tries to impress them with his conviction that there is a way out of
the difficulty. Hence the final stress in each case.

Sometimes the speaker tries to enforce his own opinion by peevishness,
whining, or complaining, with the result that he uses the final
stress:

_Lady Teazle._ Then _why_ will you _endeavour_ to
make yourself so _disagreeable_ to me, and _thwart_ me
in _every little elegant expense_?

_Sir Peter._ Madam, I say, had you any of these
little elegant expenses when you married me?

_Lady Teazle._ _Sir Peter!_ would you have me be
_out of the fashion_?

If the mental energy or mental attitude is one of uplift or
exaltation, expressing itself in adoration of the Deity, or in
admiration and love of the beautiful, or in sympathy and tenderness
toward mankind, the median stress is used:

  Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his
    holy name.

  _Roll on_, thou _deep_ and _dark_ blue ocean--_roll_!

  Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
    Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
  Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
    Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.

Determination and settled conviction in the speaker's
mind, especially when accompanied by a marked degree of
dignity, calmness, and self-control, cause equal stress on
every part of the vowel sound. This is called _thorough stress_:

  If every ducat in six thousand ducats
  Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
  I would not draw them; I would have my bond.

It is the stress of quiet strength and great reserve force:

Though the water flashed around them,
  _Not an eye was seen to quiver_;
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly,
  _Not a man relax'd his hold_.

In a more marked degree, it is also the stress used in calling:

  Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
  "The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach
    the shore!
  See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
  Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in
    the Rhine!"

If the speaker's attitude of mind is not straightforward and sincere,
if he speaks with a double meaning, in irony or sarcasm, the stress is
a combination of the radical and final, known as _compound stress_
(><). This is analogous to the compound inflection. See page 21.

  Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
    Now welcome to thy home!
  Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
    Here lies the road to Rome.

Accordingly, the compound stress is used when the intention is to
taunt or to ridicule:

_Sir Peter._ Ay--there again--taste! Zounds!
Madam, you had no taste when you married me!

_Lady Teazle._ _That's very true_, indeed, Sir Peter!
and after having married _you_, I should _never pretend
to taste again_, I allow.

=Emphasis=--The importance of an idea, whether this idea is expressed
by a single word, or by a phrase or clause, is indicated by a
variation of pitch, force, or time. This change in pitch, force, or
time, by attracting attention to that idea, is a means of emphasis. It
is the new idea, or the idea which is important through contrast
either expressed or implied, which will attract the reader's attention
and which he will make prominent in this way:

  _Brutus._ You say you are a _better soldier_:
  Let it _appear_ so; make your vaunting _true_,
  And it shall _please me well_: for mine own part,
  I shall be _glad_ to learn of noble men.

  _Cassius._ You _wrong_ me every way; you _wrong_ me, Brutus;
  I said, an _elder_ soldier, not a _better_:

"better soldier," "appear," and "true" are central ideas; they express
important ideas not mentioned before. When Cassius replies he at once
throws the idea of "soldier" in the back-ground and emphasizes
"better" by contrasting it with "elder." He also introduces the new
idea "wrong" which he makes still more emphatic by repetition. Brutus
also introduces the new idea "please me well" which he makes emphatic
by repeating it in the word "glad." Other examples of words and
phrases becoming more emphatic through repetition are:

  Faster come, faster come;
    Faster and faster,
       *       *       *       *       *
  Fast they come, fast they come;

  "_Jump_--far--out boy into the wave,
    JUMP, or I fire," he said,
  "This chance alone your life can save:
    JUMP, JUMP."

In the case of a climax, the emphasis grows stronger on each member of
the series:

  "Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief.

  It is enthronéd in the hearts of Kings,
  It is an attribute to God himself.

  When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,
  And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
  And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
  And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
  Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and
    their flags.

However, if a word is repeated, it is not necessarily emphatic each
time:

  The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
  The German foot goes seldom back where armèd foemen throng.

In the phrase "The German heart" the chief emphasis is on "heart,"
with a slighter emphasis on German. The emphasis is then transferred
to "arm" and "foot" through contrast with "heart." To emphasize
"German" again would weaken the effect.

Compare the repetition, in the following, of the syllable "un," also
of the phrase "this year":

  Unwatched along Clitumnus
    Grazes the milk-white steer;
  Unharmed the water-fowl may dip
    In the Volsinian mere.

  The harvests of Arretium,
    This year, old men shall reap,
  This year young boys in Umbro
    Shall plunge the struggling sheep;
  And in the vats of Luna,
    This year, the must shall foam
  Round the white feet of laughing girls
    Whose sires have marched to Rome.

Words and phrases are emphatic quite as often through contrast implied
as through contrast expressed. It is evident that such a sentence as:
"Will you ride to town to-day?" may have a number of different meanings
according to the words emphasized. This difference of meaning is due
to an implied contrast. If "you" is emphatic, it is because there is a
mental contrast between "you" and some other person. If "ride" is
emphatic, it is because riding is being contrasted with walking or
driving and so on. The following contain examples of emphasis through
implied contrast:

  _Great_ things were ne'er begotten in an hour.

  But _now_ no sound of laughter was heard among the foes.

As already shown on page 21, the emphasis, in the case of implied
contrast, is brought out by the circumflex inflection.

=Shading= and =Perspective=. These deal with the relative importance
of words, phrases, or clauses. According as an idea suggested by a
word or group of words is regarded as principal or subordinate, the
voice either projects it or holds it in the back-ground as an artist
shades his picture:

  And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
  The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by,
  And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
  Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep and
    dangerous ford
  The Passage of the Scot.

The principal statement, "The peasant still calls that deep and
dangerous ford the Passage of the Scot," is projected or emphasized by
higher pitch and stronger force, the thought being sustained, and the
connection made between "The peasant" and "still calls" by means of
the rising inflection. The subordinate statements, "though the legend
does not live" and "as he sees the stream in winter rolling by ...
sword," are kept in the back-ground by slightly lower pitch and
moderate force. The parenthetical clause, "for legends lightly die,"
is subordinate to the subordinate statement and is thrown still more
into the back-ground in the same way as the preceding.

Strictly speaking, the term "shading" is used to indicate the value of
individual phrases or clauses; "perspective," to indicate the values
of several phrases or clauses viewed relatively.

The =quality=, or timbre, of the voice reveals the speaker's emotions,
their character, number, and intensity. The voice is affected by the
muscular texture of the throat, just as the tone of an instrument is
affected by the texture of the material of which it is made. This
muscular texture is affected by nerve and muscular vibrations which
are caused by emotion, the result of mental impressions. Whatever be
the quality of voice peculiar to the individual, it is greatly
modified by his emotions. The man of few emotions has few vocal
vibrations; hence his monotonous voice. The man whose emotions are
habitually cruel, has a harsh, hard muscular texture through
contraction of the muscles; hence the hard voice. It is plain that the
natural voice is an index to the character. If the imagination and
soul are cultivated, the voice will gain in richness and fulness. If,
in reading that which expresses the sublime, noble, and grand, the
imagination is kindled, the voice will express by its vibrations the
largeness of our conception. This full, rich voice is called the
_orotund_:

  These are the gardens of the Desert, these
  The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful,
  For which the speech of England has no name--
  The prairies.

  For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy
    toward them that fear him.
  As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our
    transgressions from us.

In thinking of what is stern, severe, harsh, cruel, or base, the
muscles of the throat contract and produce the rigid, throaty tone
known as the _guttural_:

  On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.

  "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus
    "Will not the villain drown?
  But for this stay, ere close of day,
    We should have sacked the town!"

Certain states of mind, such as awe, caution, secrecy, fear, etc.,
produce in greater or less degree an aspirated or "breathy" quality,
called the _whisper_ or _aspirate_:

  When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
    His listening brethren stood around,
  And, wondering, on their faces fell
    To worship that celestial sound.

  The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
    And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
  The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
    And the lily whispers, "I wait."

The atmosphere of hush and repose expresses itself by a partial
whisper:

  Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
    The river glideth at his own sweet will:
  Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
    And all that mighty heart is lying still!

It must not be supposed that the whisper is always associated with
moderate or with weak force as in the preceding examples. Strong force
is used with the whisper to express intensity of feeling or vehemence:

  Whispering with white lips: the foe! they come! they come!

  Hush, I say, hush!

Other emotional states have their corresponding qualities of voice,
such, for example, as the quality of oppressed feeling and the quality
expressing agitation.

To conclude: it must be carefully borne in mind that the reader should
never strive to produce a certain quality apart from the emotion which
should precede. By force alone, for example, he will succeed in
producing mere sound without the quality. Nor are any of the examples
given above, in dealing with the various elements of vocal expression,
intended for practice in voice gymnastics apart from the preliminary
state of which they are the vocal expression. They are intended merely
as illustrations of the laws which govern correct speech.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HIGH SCHOOL READER

THE BANNER OF ST. GEORGE

Words by Shapcott Wensley: music by Sir Edward Elgar


  It comes from the misty ages,
  The banner of England's might,
  The blood-red cross of the brave St. George,
  That burns on a field of white!
  It speaks of the deathless heroes                                    5
  On fame's bright page inscrolled,
  And bids great England ne'er forget
  The glorious deeds of old!

  O'er many a cloud of battle
  The banner has floated wide;                                        10
  It shone like a star o'er the valiant hearts
  That dashed the Armada's pride!
  For ever amid the thunders
  The sailor could do or die,
  While tongues of flame leaped forth below,                          15
  And the flag of St. George was high!

  O ne'er may the flag beloved
  Unfurl in a strife unblest,
  But ever give strength to the righteous arm,
  And hope to the hearts oppressed!                                   20
  It says to the passing ages:
  "Be brave if your cause be right,
  Like the soldier saint whose cross of red
  Still burns on your banner white!"

  Great race, whose empire of splendour                               25
  Has dazzled the wondering world!
  May the flag that floats o'er thy wide domains
  Be long to all winds unfurled!
  Three crosses in concord blended,
  The banner of Britain's might!                                      30
  But the central gem of the ensign fair
  Is the cross of the dauntless Knight!

      --_By permission of the publishers, Novello & Co._


  PREPARATORY--Divide the poem into two parts, giving to
  each part a descriptive title.

  What feelings are aroused by this poem?

  What lines in stanzas i and iv call up a mental picture
  of the flag?

  What three phrases in stanza i suggest the important
  ideas to be associated with the flag? How does the voice
  indicate the importance of these ideas? (Introduction,
  p. 8.)

  Of what phrases in stanza i is stanza ii only an
  elaboration?

  What wish is contained in stanza iii? What sentences
  express it?

  What additional idea does stanza iv add to this wish?

  STAR, VALIANT, ARMADA, CENTRAL. Make a distinction in
  the sound of the letter _a_ in these words, and
  elsewhere in the poem. (Appendix A, 1.)

  GEORGE, CROSS, FORGET, FORTH, CONCORD. What sound has
  the letter _o_ in each word? (Appendix A, 1.)

  Articulate with energy the final consonantal
  combinations of all such words as: ENGLAND'S, BURNS,
  SPEAKS, INSCROLLED, FLOATED, HEARTS, DASHED, LEAPED,
  UNBLEST, STRENGTH, DAZZLED, UNFURLED, BLENDED. (Appendix
  A, 3.)

       *       *       *       *       *


JEAN VALJEAN AND THE BISHOP

From "Les Misérables"


At the bishop's house, his housekeeper, Mme. Magloire was saying:

"We say that this house is not safe at all; and, if Monseigneur will
permit me, I will go on and tell the locksmith to come and put the old
bolts in the door again. I say, than a door which opens by a latch on
the outside to the first comer, nothing could be more horrible; and
then Monseigneur has the habit of always saying: 'Come in,' even at
midnight. But, my goodness, there is no need to even ask leave----"

At this moment there was a violent knock on the door.

"Come in!" said the bishop.

The door opened.

It opened quickly, quite wide, as if pushed by some one boldly and
with energy.

A man entered.

That man we know already; it was the traveller we have seen wandering
about in search of a lodging.

He came in, took one step, and paused, leaving the door open behind
him. He had his knapsack on his back, his stick in his hand, and a
rough, hard, and fierce look in his eyes. He was hideous.

The bishop looked upon the man with a tranquil eye. As he was opening
his mouth to speak, doubtless to ask the stranger what he wanted, the
man, leaning with both hands on his club, glanced from one to another
in turn, and, without waiting for the bishop to speak, said, in a
loud voice:

"See here! my name is Jean Valjean. I am a convict; I have been
nineteen years in the galleys. Four days ago I was set free, and
started for Pontarlier; during these four days I have walked from
Toulon. To-day I have walked twelve leagues. When I reached this place
this evening I went to an inn, and they sent me away on account of my
yellow passport, which I had shown at the Mayor's office, as was
necessary. I went to another inn; they said, 'Get out!' It was the
same with one as with another; nobody would have me. I went to the
prison and the turnkey would not let me in. I crept into a dog kennel,
the dog bit me, and drove me away as if he had been a man; you would
have said that he knew who I was. I went into the fields to sleep
beneath the stars, there were no stars. I thought it would rain, and
there was no good God to stop the drops, so I came back to the town to
get the shelter of some doorway. There in the square I laid down upon
a stone; a good woman showed me your house, and said: 'Knock there!' I
have knocked. What is this place? Are you an inn? I have money; my
savings, one hundred and nine francs and fifteen sous, which I have
earned in the galleys by my work for nineteen years. I will pay. What
do I care? I have money, I am very tired--twelve leagues on foot--and
I am so hungry. Can I stay?"

"Mme. Magloire," said the bishop, "put on another plate."

The man took three steps and came near the lamp which stood on the
table. "Stop," he exclaimed; as if he had not been understood; "not
that, did you understand me? I am a galley slave--a convict--I am just
from the galleys." He drew from his pocket a large sheet of yellow
paper, which he unfolded. "There is my passport, yellow, as you see.
That is enough to have me kicked out wherever I go. Will you read it?
See, here is what they have put on my passport: Jean Valjean, a
liberated convict; has been nineteen years in the galleys; five years
for burglary; fourteen years for having attempted four times to
escape. This man is very dangerous. There you have it! Everybody has
thrust me out; will you receive me? Is this an inn? Can you give me
something to eat and a place to sleep? Have you a stable?"

"Mme. Magloire," said the bishop, "put some sheets on the bed in the
alcove."

The bishop turned to the man:

"Monsieur, sit down and warm yourself; we are going to take supper
presently, and your bed will be made ready while you sup."

At last the man quite understood; his face, the expression of which
till then had been gloomy, and hard, now expressed stupefaction, doubt
and joy, and became absolutely wonderful. He began to stutter like a
madman.

"True? What? You will keep me? you won't drive me away--a convict? You
call me monsieur and don't say, 'Get out, dog!' as everybody else
does. I shall have a supper! a bed like other people, with mattress
and sheets--a bed! It is nineteen years that I have not slept on a
bed. You are good people! Besides, I have money; I will pay well. I
beg your pardon, M. Innkeeper, what is your name? I will pay all you
say. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, is it not so?"

"I am a priest who lives here," said the bishop.

"A priest," said the man. "Oh, noble priest! Then you do not ask any
money?"

"No," said the bishop, "keep your money. How much have you?"

"One hundred and nine francs and fifteen sous," said the man.

"One hundred and nine francs and fifteen sous. And how long did it
take you to earn that?"

"Nineteen years."

"Nineteen years!"

The bishop sighed deeply, and shut the door, which had been left wide
open.

Mme. Magloire brought in a plate and set it on the table.

"Mme Magloire," said the bishop, "put this plate as near the fire as
you can." Then turning toward his guest he added: "The night wind is
raw in the Alps; you must be cold, monsieur."

Every time he said the word _monsieur_ with his gentle, solemn and
heartily hospitable voice, the man's countenance lighted up.
_Monsieur_ to a convict is a glass of water to a man dying of thirst
at sea.

"The lamp," said the bishop, "gives a very poor light."

Mme. Magloire understood him, and, going to his bedchamber, took from
the mantel the two silver candlesticks, lighted the candles and placed
them on the table.

"M. le Curé," said the man, you are good; "you don't despise me. You
take me into your house; you light your candles for me, and I haven't
hid from you where I come from, and how miserable I am."

The bishop touched his hand gently and said: "You need not tell me who
you are. This is not my house; it is the house of Christ. It does not
ask any comer whether he has a name, but whether he has an affliction.
You are suffering; you are hungry and thirsty; be welcome. And do not
thank me; do not tell me that I take you into my house. This is the
home of no man except him who needs an asylum. I tell you, who are a
traveller, that you are more at home here than I; whatever is here is
yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told
me, I knew it."

The man opened his eyes in astonishment.

"Really? You knew my name?"

"Yes," answered the bishop, "your name is my brother."

"Stop, stop, M. le Curé," exclaimed the man, "I was famished when I
came in, but you are so kind that now I don't know what I am; that is
all gone."

The bishop looked at him again and said:

"You have seen much suffering?"

"Oh, the red blouse, the ball and chain, the plank you sleep on, the
heat, the cold, the galley's screw, the lash, the double chain for
nothing, the dungeon for a word--even when sick in bed, the chain. The
dogs, the dogs are happier! nineteen years! and I am forty-six, and
now a yellow passport. That is all."

"Yes," answered the bishop, "you have left a place of suffering. But
listen, there will be more joy in heaven over the tears of a repentant
sinner than over the white robes of a hundred good men. If you are
leaving that sorrowful place with hate and anger against men, you are
worthy of compassion; if you leave it with good-will, gentleness, and
peace, you are better than any of us."

      --_Victor Hugo_


  This lesson can be used as an exercise on Pause
  springing from (1) Visualization and Grouping,
  (Introduction, pp. 7 and 8); (2) Narrative which breaks
  in upon the direct discourse. (Introduction, p. 24.)

  THAT MAN WE KNOW ALREADY. (Introduction, p. 11.)

  "SEE HERE ... CAN I STAY?" This paragraph is an exercise
  on Emphasis. Make a list of the words which are emphatic
  (1) because they express new and important ideas, (2)
  because of contrast. Why is GALLEYS not emphatic? Where
  is the emphasis placed in that sentence?

       *       *       *       *       *


THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE


  A well there is in the west country,
    And a clearer one never was seen;
  There is not a wife in the west country
    But has heard of the well of St. Keyne.

  An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,                                 5
    And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
  And a willow from the bank above
    Droops to the water below.

  A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne;
    Joyfully he drew nigh,                                            10
  For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
    And there was not a cloud in the sky.

  He drank of the water so cool and clear,
    For thirsty and hot was he;
  And he sat down upon the bank,                                      15
    Under the willow-tree.

  There came a man from the house hard by,
    At the well to fill his pail;
  On the well-side he rested it,
    And he bade the stranger hail.                                    20

  "Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he;
    "For, an if thou hast a wife,
  The happiest draught thou hast drank this day
    That ever thou didst in thy life.

  "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast,                           25
    Ever here in Cornwall been?
  For, an if she have, I'll venture my life
    She has drank of the well of St. Keyne."

  "I have left a good woman who never was here,"
    The stranger he made reply;                                       30
  "But that my draught should be the better for that,
    I pray you answer me why."

  "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, many a time
    Drank of this crystal well;
  And before the angel summoned her,                                  35
    She laid on the water a spell,--

  "If the husband of this gifted well
    Shall drink before his wife,
  A happy man thenceforth is he,
    For he shall be master for life;                                  40

  "But, if the wife should drink of it first,
    God help the husband then!"--
  The stranger stooped to the well of St. Keyne,
    And drank of the water again.

  "You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?"                        45
    He to the Cornish-man said;
  But the Cornish-man smiled as the stranger spake,
    And sheepishly shook his head:--

  "I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done,
    And left my wife in the porch;                                    50
  But i' faith she had been wiser than me,
    For she took a bottle to church."

      --_Robert Southey_


  PREPARATORY.--Select the lines that (_a_) describe the
  scene, (_b_) indicate the action, (_c_) give the
  dialogue.

  Show by recasting this ballad into dramatic form that it
  is a miniature drama.

  Give examples of Pause springing from (_a_)
  Visualization, in ll. 1, 5, 6, 7, 9, 13, 17, 19, (_b_)
  narrative which interrupts direct discourse, in ll. 21,
  29, 33, 45.

  Which are the emphatic words in ll. 2, 3, 4, 10, 11, 14,
  21, 29, 31, 38, 45, 46? Give your reasons and show how
  they are made emphatic. (Introduction, p. 30.)

  l. 3. What is the Inflection on 'country,' l. 3?
  (Introduction, p. 17.)

  ll. 37-38. Note the Grouping and Pause. (Introduction,
  p. 12.)

       *       *       *       *       *


FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY

1 Corinthians xiii


Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And
though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and
all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all
my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and
have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself
unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no
evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth
all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all
things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall
fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be
knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy
in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in
part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I
understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man I
put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but
then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as
also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three;
but the greatest of these is charity.


  CHARITY, SUFFERETH, PROFITETH. (Appendix A, 8 and 3.)

  Show by examples from this selection how completeness
  and incompleteness of thought affect the Inflection.
  (Introduction, pp. 15 and 16.)

  What Inflection does a negative statement usually
  require? Give examples from the second paragraph.
  (Introduction, p. 17.)

  Give examples, from the second paragraph, of momentary
  completeness. (Introduction, pp. 15 and 16.)

  Select the words which are emphatic because they express
  (_a_) new and important ideas. (_b_) contrast.

  BEARETH ALL THINGS, ETC. How may the repetition of a
  word or phrase affect the Emphasis? (Introduction, pp.
  31 and 32.)

  How are the principal clauses in the first three
  sentences made prominent? (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE LEGEND BEAUTIFUL

From "Tales of a Wayside Inn"


  "Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!"
  That is what the Vision said.

  In his chamber all alone,
  Kneeling on the floor of stone,
  Prayed the Monk in deep contrition                                   5
  For his sins of indecision,
  Prayed for greater self-denial
  In temptation and in trial;
  It was noonday by the dial,
  And the Monk was all alone.                                         10

  Suddenly, as if it lightened,
  An unwonted splendour brightened
  All within him and without him
  In that narrow cell of stone;
  And he saw the Blessed Vision                                       15
  Of our Lord, with light Elysian
  Like a vesture wrapped about Him,
  Like a garment round Him thrown.
  Not as crucified and slain,
  Not in agonies of pain,                                             20
  Not with bleeding hands and feet,
  Did the Monk his Master see;
  But as in the village street,
  In the house or harvest-field,
  Halt and lame and blind He healed,                                  25
  When He walked in Galilee.

  In an attitude imploring,
  Hands upon his bosom crossed,
  Wondering, worshipping, adoring,
  Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.                                     30
  Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest,
  Who am I, that thus Thou deignest
  To reveal Thyself to me?
  Who am I, that from the centre
  Of Thy glory Thou shouldst enter                                    35
  This poor cell, my guest to be?

  Then amid his exaltation,
  Loud the convent bell appalling,
  From its belfry calling, calling,
  Rang through court and corridor                                     40
  With persistent iteration
  He had never heard before.
  It was now the appointed hour
  When alike in shine or shower,
  Winter's cold or summer's heat,                                     45
  To the convent portals came
  All the blind and halt and lame,
  All the beggars of the street,
  For their daily dole of food
  Dealt them by the brotherhood;                                      50
  And their almoner was he
  Who upon his bended knee,
  Rapt in silent ecstasy
  Of divinest self-surrender,
  Saw the Vision and the Splendour.                                   55

  Deep distress and hesitation
  Mingled with his adoration;
  Should he go or should he stay?
  Should he leave the poor to wait
  Hungry at the convent gate,                                         60
  Till the Vision passed away?
  Should he slight his radiant guest,
  Slight this visitant celestial,
  For a crowd of ragged, bestial
  Beggars at the convent gate?                                        65
  Would the Vision there remain?
  Would the Vision come again?
  Then a voice within his breast
  Whispered, audible and clear
  As if to the outward ear:                                           70
  "Do thy duty; that is best;
  Leave unto thy Lord the rest!"

  Straightway to his feet he started,
  And with longing look intent
  On the Blessed Vision bent,                                         75
  Slowly from his cell departed,
  Slowly on his errand went.

  At the gate the poor were waiting,
  Looking through the iron grating,
  With that terror in the eye                                         80
  That is only seen in those
  Who amid their wants and woes
  Hear the sound of doors that close,
  And of feet that pass them by;
  Grown familiar with disfavour,                                      85
  Grown familiar with the savour
  Of the bread by which men die!
  But to-day, they knew not why,
  Like the gate of Paradise
  Seemed the convent gate to rise,                                    90
  Like a sacrament divine
  Seemed to them the bread and wine.
  In his heart the Monk was praying,
  Thinking of the homeless poor,
  What they suffer and endure;                                        95
  What we see not, what we see;
  And the inward voice was saying:
  "Whatsoever thing thou doest
  To the least of Mine and lowest,
  That thou doest unto Me!"                                          100

  Unto Me! but had the Vision
  Come to him in beggar's clothing,
  Come a mendicant imploring,
  Would he then have knelt adoring,
  Or have listened with derision,                                    105
  And have turned away with loathing?
  Thus his conscience put the question,
  Full of troublesome suggestion,
  As at length, with hurried pace,
  Toward his cell he turned his face,                                110
  And beheld the convent bright
  With a supernatural light,
  Like a luminous cloud expanding
  Over floor and wall and ceiling.
  But he paused with awestruck feeling                               115
  At the threshold of his door,
  For the Vision still was standing
  As he left it there before,
  When the convent bell appalling,
  From its belfry calling, calling,                                  120
  Summoned him to feed the poor.
  Through the long hour intervening
  It had waited his return,
  And he felt his bosom burn,
  Comprehending all the meaning,                                     125
  When the Blessed Vision said,
  "Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!"

      --_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_


  HADST, LIGHTENED, BRIGHTENED, REIGNEST, DEIGNEST,
  DIVINEST (Appendix, A, 3.)

  ll. 29, 38-39, 78-79. (Appendix, A, 4.)

  How can the reader show that the first two lines are
  merely introductory?

  Divide the poem proper into five parts, giving to each
  part a suggestive title. How can the reader make each
  part stand out by itself? (Introduction, p. 10.)

  Select the principal statement in each stanza and show
  how the voice may make it prominent. (Introduction, p.
  33.)

  What Inflection is placed on the principal statement?
  What Inflection on the subordinate phrases and clauses?
  (Introduction, p. 15.)

  Select examples of momentary completeness from the poem.

  ll. 19-22. What is the Inflection on these negative
  phrases? (Introduction, pp. 17 and 18.)

  What is the Inflection on the various questions
  throughout the poem? (Introduction, p. 18.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE VICAR'S FAMILY USE ART

From "The Vicar of Wakefield"


1. Whatever might have been Sophia's sensations, the rest of the
family was easily consoled for Mr. Burchell's absence by the company
of our landlord, whose visits now became more frequent, and longer.
Though he had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the
amusements of the town, as he designed, he took every opportunity of
supplying them with those little recreations which our retirement
would admit of. He usually came in the morning; and while my son and I
followed our occupations abroad, he sat with the family at home, and
amused them by describing the town, with every part of which he was
particularly acquainted. He could repeat all the observations that
were retailed in the atmosphere of the play-houses, and had all the
good things of the high wits by rote, long before they made their way
into the jest-books. The intervals between conversation were employed
in teaching my daughters piquet, or sometimes in setting my two little
ones to box, to make them _sharp_, as he called it; but the hopes of
having him for a son-in-law, in some measure blinded us to all his
imperfections. It must be owned, that my wife laid a thousand schemes
to entrap him; or, to speak it more tenderly, used every art to
magnify the merit of her daughter. If the cakes at tea ate short and
crisp, they were made by Olivia; if the gooseberry wine was well knit,
the gooseberries were of her gathering; it was her fingers that gave
the pickles their peculiar green; and in the composition of a pudding,
it was her judgment that mixed the ingredients. Then the poor woman
would sometimes tell the Squire that she thought him and Olivia
extremely of a size, and would bid both stand up to see which was
tallest. These instances of cunning, which she thought impenetrable,
yet which everybody saw through, were very pleasing to our benefactor,
who gave every day some new proofs of his passion, which, though they
had not risen to proposals of marriage, yet we thought fell but little
short of it; and his slowness was attributed sometimes to native
bashfulness, and sometimes to his fear of offending his uncle. An
occurrence, however, which happened soon after, put it beyond a doubt
that he designed to become one of our family; my wife even regarded it
as an absolute promise.

2. My wife and daughters happening to return a visit at neighbour
Flamborough's, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn
by a limner, who travelled the country, and took likenesses for
fifteen shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of
rivalry in point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen
march upon us; and notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much,
it was resolved that we should have our pictures done too. Having,
therefore, engaged the limner--for what could I do?--our next
deliberation was to shew the superiority of our taste in the
attitudes. As for our neighbour's family, there were seven of them,
and they were drawn with seven oranges--a thing quite out of taste, no
variety in life, no composition in the world. We desired to have
something in a brighter style; and after many debates, at length came
to an unanimous resolution of being drawn together, in one large
historical family piece. This would be cheaper, since one frame would
serve for all, and it would be infinitely more genteel; for all
families of any taste were now drawn in the same manner. As we did not
immediately recollect an historical subject to hit us, we were
contented each with being drawn as independent historical figures. My
wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was desired
not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair. Her
two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side; while I, in my gown
and band, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian
controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting upon a bank
of flowers, dressed in a green joseph richly laced with gold, and a
whip in her hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep
as the painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed
out with an hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the
Squire that he insisted on being put in as one of the family, in the
character of Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was
considered by us all as an indication of his desire to be introduced
into the family, nor could we refuse his request. The painter was
therefore set to work, and as he wrought with assiduity and
expedition, in less than four days the whole was completed. The piece
was large, and it must be owned he did not spare his colours; for
which my wife gave him great encomiums. We were all perfectly
satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate circumstance which
had not occurred till the picture was finished, now struck us with
dismay. It was so very large that we had no place in the house to fix
it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is inconceivable;
but certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. The picture,
therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped, leaned, in a
most mortifying manner, against the kitchen wall, where the canvas was
stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any of the
doors, and the jest of all our neighbours. One compared it to Robinson
Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed; another thought it more
resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got out.
but still more were amazed how it ever got in.

3. But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually raised
more malicious suggestions in many. The Squire's portrait being found
united with ours, was an honour too great to escape envy. Scandalous
whispers began to circulate at our expense, and our tranquillity was
continually disturbed by persons, who came as friends, to tell us what
was said of us by enemies. These reports we always resented with
becoming spirit; but scandal ever improves by opposition.

4. We once again, therefore, entered into a consultation upon
obviating the malice of our enemies, and at last came to a resolution
which had too much cunning to give me entire satisfaction. It was
this: as our principal object was to discover the honour of Mr.
Thornhill's addresses, my wife undertook to sound him, by pretending
to ask his advice in the choice of an husband for her eldest daughter.
If this was not found sufficient to induce him to a declaration, it
was then resolved to terrify him with a rival. To this last step,
however, I would by no means give my consent, till Olivia gave me the
most solemn assurances that she would marry the person provided to
rival him upon this occasion, if he did not prevent it by taking her
himself. Such was the scheme laid, which, though I did not strenuously
oppose, I did not entirely approve.

5. The next time, therefore, that Mr. Thornhill came to see us, my
girls took care to be out of the way, in order to give their mamma an
opportunity of putting her scheme in execution; but they only retired
to the next room, whence they could overhear the whole conversation.
My wife artfully introduced it, by observing, that one of the Miss
Flamboroughs was like to have a very good match of it in Mr. Spanker.
To this the Squire assenting, she proceeded to remark, that they who
had warm fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands: "But
heaven help," continued she, "the girls that have none! What signifies
beauty, Mr. Thornhill? or what signifies all the virtue, and all the
qualifications in the world, in this age of self-interest? It is not,
What is she? but, What has she? is all the cry."

6. "Madam," returned he, "I highly approve the justice, as well as the
novelty, of your remarks, and if I were a king, it should be
otherwise. It should then, indeed, be fine times for the girls without
fortunes: our two young ladies should be the first for whom I would
provide."

7. "Ah, sir," returned my wife, "you are pleased to be facetious: but
I wish I were a queen, and then I know where my eldest daughter
should look for an husband. But now that you have put it into my head,
seriously, Mr. Thornhill, can't you recommend me a proper husband for
her? She is now nineteen years old, well grown and well educated, and,
in my humble opinion, does not want for parts."

8. "Madam," replied he, "if I were to choose, I would find out a
person possessed of every accomplishment that can make an angel happy.
One with prudence, fortune, taste, and sincerity; such, madam, would
be, in my opinion, the proper husband."--"Ay, sir," said she, "but do
you know of any such person?"--"No, Madam," returned he, "it is
impossible to know any person that deserves to be her husband: she's
too great a treasure for one man's possession: she's a goddess! Upon
my soul, I speak what I think, she's an angel!"--"Ah, Mr. Thornhill,
you only flatter my poor girl: but we have been thinking of marrying
her to one of your tenants, whose mother is lately dead, and who wants
a manager; you know whom I mean, Farmer Williams; a warm man, Mr.
Thornhill, able to give her good bread; and who has several times made
her proposals" (which was actually the case); "but, sir," concluded
she, "I should be glad to have your approbation of our choice."--"How,
Madam," replied he, "my approbation!--my approbation of such a choice!
Never. What! Sacrifice so much beauty, and sense, and goodness, to a
creature insensible of the blessing! Excuse me, I can never approve of
such a piece of injustice. And I have my reasons."--"Indeed, sir,"
cried Deborah, "If you have your reasons, that's another affair; but I
should be glad to know those reasons."--"Excuse me, Madam," returned
he, "they lie too deep for discovery" (laying his hand upon his
bosom); "they remain buried, rivetted here."

9. After he was gone, upon a general consultation, we could not tell
what to make of these fine sentiments. Olivia considered them as
instances of the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so
sanguine; yet, whatever they might portend, it was resolved to
prosecute the scheme of Farmer Williams, who, from my daughter's first
appearance in the country, had paid her his addresses.

      --_Oliver Goldsmith_


  ABSOLUTE, RESOLUTION, INTRODUCED, (Appendix, A, 2.)
  VISITS, NATIVE, INFINITELY, CUPIDS, VANITY, GRATIFYING,
  MORTIFYING, SANGUINE. (Appendix, A, 8.) UNFORTUNATE,
  FORTUNE, VIRTUE. (Appendix, A, 9.)

  Show by numerous examples from this selection that the
  dependent clause of a sentence takes the rising
  Inflection--whilst the principal clause takes the
  falling. Which of the two has the heavier shading?
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

  How are such parenthetical clauses as AS HE DESIGNED, in
  the second sentence, kept in the background?
  (Introduction, pp. 24 and 27.) Give similar examples
  from this selection.

  What Inflection is placed on the rhetorical questions in
  par. v? (Introduction, p. 19.)

  How is the effect of the climax in par. viii brought
  out? (Introduction, p. 31.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SOLDIER'S DREAM


  Our bugles sang truce--for the night-cloud had lowered
    And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
  And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
    The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

  When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,                      5
    By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
  At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
    And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

  Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array,
    Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track;                        10
  'Twas autumn--and sunshine arose on the way
    To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

  I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
    In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
  I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,                       15
    And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

  Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore
    From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
  My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
    And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.                 20

  "Stay, stay with us--rest, thou art weary and worn;"
    And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;
  But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
    And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

      --_Thomas Campbell_


  PREPARATORY.--Describe the picture suggested by this
  poem.

  Compare the soldier's dream with the vision of _The
  Private of the Buffs_ in the hour of danger, or with
  _The Slave's Dream_ in Longfellow's poem.

  Divide the poem into three distinct parts, giving to
  each a descriptive title.

  Expand the thoughts contained in the last two lines of
  the poem, using, if possible, illustrations from
  literature or real life. What feelings do these lines
  arouse?

  Observe the difficulties of Articulation in ll. 1, 2, 13
  and 16. (Appendix A, 6 and 3.)

  How can each part of the poem be made to stand out by
  itself? (Introduction, p. 10.)

  2. SENTINEL STARS. Select other phrases which call up
  mental images.

  How does the process of mental imagery affect the Time?
  (Introduction, p. 12.)

  3. How can it be shown that OVERPOWERED and GROUND are
  disconnected? (Introduction, p. 7.)

  4. Why do we pause after WEARY AND WOUNDED?
  (Introduction, p. 10.)

  6. Why is there no pause after FAGGOT? (Introduction, p.
  11.)

  What lines of stanza ii contain the leading thought? How
  does the voice indicate this? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  9. How is the mind prepared for the description of the
  dream?

  21. What feeling does the voice express? Does Imitation
  play any part here? (Introduction, pp. 5 and 6.)

  22. Expand the thought of this line, and show how your
  thinking affects the Time. (Introduction, p. 14.)
  Compare with the Time of l. 21, and explain the
  difference.

       *       *       *       *       *


VAN ELSEN


  God spake three times and saved Van Elsen's soul;
  He spake by sickness first, and made him whole;
          Van Elsen heard him not,
          Or soon forgot.

  God spake to him by wealth; the world outpoured                      5
  Its treasures at his feet, and called him lord;
          Van Elsen's heart grew fat
          And proud thereat.

  God spake the third time when the great world smiled,
  And in the sunshine slew his little child;                          10
          Van Elsen like a tree
          Fell hopelessly.

  Then in the darkness came a voice which said,
  "As thy heart bleedeth, so My heart hath bled;
          As I have need of thee                                      15
          Thou needest Me."

  That night Van Elsen kissed the baby feet,
  And kneeling by the narrow winding-sheet
          Praised him with fervent breath
          Who conquered death.                                        20

      _-Frederick George Scott_ (_By permission_)


  By what means is the introductory line kept distinct
  from the rest of the poem? (Introduction, p. 10.)

  How does the reader indicate the comparatively long
  space of time which elapses between the events of the
  first, second, and third stanzas respectively?
  (Introduction, p. 9.)

  Show that each of the first three stanzas falls
  according to meaning, into two parts. How does the
  reader indicate this division?

  Why should the last two stanzas, in this respect, be
  together treated as one of the preceding? Illustrate by
  means of Pause.

       *       *       *       *       *


PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU


  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
    Pibroch of Donuil,
  Wake thy wild voice anew,
    Summon Clan Conuil.
  Come away, come away,                                                5
    Hark to the summons!
  Come in your war array,
    Gentles and commons.

  Come from deep glen, and
    From mountains so rocky,                                          10
  The war-pipe and pennon
    Are at Inverlocky.
  Come every hill-plaid, and
    True heart that wears one,
  Come every steel blade, and                                         15
    Strong hand that bears one.

  Leave untended the herd,
    The flock without shelter;
  Leave the corpse uninterr'd
    The bride at the altar;                                           20
  Leave the deer, leave the steer,
    Leave nets and barges:
  Come with your fighting gear,
    Broadswords and targes.

  Come as the winds come, when                                        25
    Forests are rended,
  Come as the waves come, when
    Navies are stranded;
  Faster come, faster come,
    Faster and faster,                                                30
  Chief, vassal, page and groom,
    Tenant and master.

  Fast they come, fast they come;
    See how they gather!
  Wide waves the eagle plume,                                         35
    Blended with heather.
  Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
    Forward each man set!
  Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
    Knell for the onset!                                              40

      --_Sir Walter Scott_


  HERD, UNINTERR'D. What sound has the vowel _e_?
  (Appendix A, 1.)

  GENTLES AND COMMONS; NETS AND BARGES; FIGHTING GEAR;
  BROADSWORDS AND TARGES; FORESTS ARE RENDED; NAVIES ARE
  STRANDED. (Appendix A, 3 and 6.)

  For Pause read (Introduction, pp. 7 and 8.)

  How is the gradually increasing excitement and energy
  indicated in Time, Pitch, and Force? (Introduction, pp.
  13, 23, and 27.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE DAY IS DONE


  The day is done, and the darkness
    Falls from the wings of Night,
  As a feather is wafted downwards
    From an eagle in its flight.

  I see the lights of the village                                      5
    Gleam through the rain and the mist,
  And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
    That my soul cannot resist:

  A feeling of sadness and longing,
    That is not akin to pain,                                         10
  And resembles sorrow only
    As the mist resembles the rain.

  Come, read to me some poem,
    Some simple and heartfelt lay,
  That shall soothe this restless feeling,                            15
    And banish the thoughts of day.

  Not from the grand old masters,
    Not from the bards sublime,
  Whose distant footsteps echo
    Through the corridors of Time.                                    20

  For, like strains of martial music,
    Their mighty thoughts suggest
  Life's endless toil and endeavour;
    And to-night I long for rest.

  Read from some humbler poet,                                        25
    Whose songs gushed from his heart,
  As showers from the clouds of summer,
    Or tears from the eyelids start;

  Who, through long days of labour,
    And nights devoid of ease,                                        30
  Still heard in his soul the music
    Of wonderful melodies.

  Such songs have power to quiet
    The restless pulse of care,
  And come like the benediction                                       35
    That follows after prayer.

  Then read from the treasured volume
    The poem of thy choice,
  And lend to the rhyme of the poet
    The beauty of thy voice.                                          40

  And the night shall be filled with music,
    And the cares that infest the day,
  Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
    And as silently steal away.

      --_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_


  What is the atmosphere of this poem? Compare it in this
  respect with _Pibroch of Donuil Dhu_.

  How does it differ from the latter in expression, so far
  as Time, Pitch, and Force are concerned? (Introduction,
  pp. 13, 22 and 26.)

  WAFTED, AFTER, MASTERS, POEM, CORRIDORS, SORROW.
  (Appendix A, 1.)

  Observe the difficulties of Articulation in ll. 3, 11,
  15, 18, 22, 26, 28 and 31. (Appendix A, 3 and 6.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE BOYS

From "The Old Curiosity Shop"


1. The schoolmaster had scarcely arranged the room in due order, and
taken his seat behind his desk, when a white-headed boy with a
sunburnt face appeared at the door, and stopping there to make a
rustic bow, came in and took his seat upon one of the forms. The
white-headed boy then put an open book, astonishingly dog-eared, upon
his knees, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, began counting
the marbles with which they were filled. Soon afterwards another
white-headed little boy came straggling in, and after him a red-headed
lad, and after him two more with white heads, and then one with a
flaxen poll, and so on until there were about a dozen boys in all,
with heads of every colour but gray, and ranging in their ages from
four years old to fourteen years or more; for the legs of the youngest
were a long way from the floor when he sat upon the form, and the
eldest was a heavy, good-tempered, foolish fellow, about half a head
taller than the schoolmaster.

2. At the top of the first form--the post of honour in the school--was
the vacant place of the little sick scholar, and at the head of the
row of pegs on which the hats and caps were hung, one peg was left
empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but
many a one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster, and
whispered to his idle neighbour behind his hand.

3. Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by
heart, the whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and
drawl of school; and in the midst of the din sat the poor
schoolmaster, the very image of meekness and simplicity, vainly
attempting to fix his mind upon the duties of the day, and to forget
his little sick friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him more
strongly of the willing scholar, and his thoughts were rambling from
his pupils--it was plain. None knew this better than the idlest boys,
who, growing bolder with impunity, waxed louder and more
daring--eating apples under the master's eye, pinching each other in
sport or malice, and cutting their autographs in the very legs of his
desk. The puzzled dunce, who stood beside it to say his lesson out of
book, looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words, but drew
closer to the master's elbow and boldly cast his eyes upon the page.
If the master did chance to rouse himself and seem alive to what was
going on, the noise subsided for a moment, and no eyes met his but
wore a studious and deeply humble look; but, the instant he relapsed
again, it broke out afresh, and ten times louder than before.

4. Oh, how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how
they looked at the open door and window, as if they half meditated
rushing violently out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys
and savages from that time forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool
river, and some shady bathing-place beneath willow-trees with branches
dipping in the water, kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy, who
sat fanning his flushed face with a spelling-book wishing himself a
whale, or a fly, or anything but a boy at school on that hot, broiling
day!

5. Heat! Ask that other boy, whose seat being nearest the door gave
him opportunities of gliding out into the garden and driving his
companions to madness by dipping his face into the bucket of the well
and then rolling on the grass--ask him if there were ever such a day
as that, when even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of
flowers and stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to
retire from business and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day
was made for laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and
staring at the sky till its brightness forced one to shut one's eyes
and go to sleep; and was this a time to be poring over musty books in
a dark room, slighted by the very sun itself? Monstrous!

6. The lessons over, writing-time began; and there being but one desk
and that the master's, each boy sat at it in turn and laboured at his
crooked copy, while the master walked about. This was a quieter time;
for he would come and look over the writer's shoulder, and tell him
mildly to observe how such a letter was turned in such a copy on the
wall, and bid him take it for his model. Then he would stop and tell
them what the sick child had said last night, and how he had longed to
be among them once again; and such was the schoolmaster's gentle and
affectionate manner that the boys seemed quite remorseful that they
had worried him so much, and were absolutely quiet; eating no apples,
cutting no names, inflicting no pinches, for full two minutes
afterwards.

7. "I think, boys," said the schoolmaster, when the clock struck
twelve, "that I shall give an extra half-holiday this afternoon."

8. At this intelligence the boys, led on and headed by the tall boy,
raised a great shout, in the midst of which the master was seen to
speak, but could not be heard. As he held up his hand, however, in
token of his wish that they should be silent, they were considerate
enough to leave off, as soon as the longest-winded among them were
quite out of breath.

9. "You must promise me first," said the schoolmaster, "that you 'll
not be noisy, or, at least, if you are, that you'll go away and be
so--away out of the village, I mean. I'm sure you wouldn't disturb
your old playmate and companion."

10. There was a general murmur in the negative.

11. "Then, pray, don't forget--there's my dear scholars," said the
schoolmaster--"what I have asked you, and do it as a favour to me. Be
as happy as you can, and likewise be mindful that you are blessed with
health. Good-bye, all!"

12. "Thank you, sir," and "Good-bye, sir," were said a great many
times in a variety of voices, and the boys went out very slowly and
softly.

13. But there was the sun shining and there were the birds singing, as
the sun only shines and the birds only sing on holidays and
half-holidays; there were the trees waving to all free boys to climb
and nestle among their leafy branches; the hay, entreating them to
come and scatter it in the pure air; the green corn, gently beckoning
toward wood and stream; the smooth ground rendered smoother still by
blending lights and shadows, inviting to runs and leaps, and long
walks no one knows whither. It was more than boy could bear, and with
a joyous whoop the whole company took to their heels and spread
themselves about, shouting and laughing as they went.

14. "It's natural, thank heaven!" said the poor schoolmaster, looking
after them. "I'm very glad they didn't mind me!"

      --_Charles Dickens_


  Par. 1. DUE. (Appendix A 2.)

  Indicate the pauses required to allow time for the
  Imaging process. Discriminate between the short and the
  long pauses. (Introduction, pp. 8 and 11.)

  ORDER, DESK, DOOR. Account for the Inflection on each of
  these words. (Introduction, pp. 15 and 16.)

  What clause in the first sentence should be made most
  prominent? Indicate the relative value of each part of
  this sentence by the Shading. (Introduction, p. 33.)

  Par. 2. What two phrases suggest the central idea of
  this paragraph?

  How does the voice indicate that the parenthetical
  clause is subordinate in thought? (Introduction, pp. 24
  and 33.)

  Par. 3. SIMPLICITY, IMPUNITY, STUDIOUS. (Appendix A 8
  and 2.)

  DID CHANCE. What is the emphatic word? Why?

  Read the last two sentences with a view to Perspective.
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

  NO EYES MET HIS ... How does the Inflection on HIS
  indicate the exact meaning? (Introduction, p. 16.)

  Par. 4. Give examples of Grouping in the last sentence
  and show how Grouping affects the Pause. (Introduction,
  p. 11.)

  Par. 5. WHOSE SEAT--GRASS. What is the Shading? Indicate
  the pauses in this group of words giving your reason in
  each case.

  What Inflection is placed on the question in the last
  sentence? Account for it. (Introduction, p. 19.)

  Par. 6. WRITER'S SHOULDER, BOYS SEEMED, ABSOLUTELY.
  (Appendix A, 6, 2.)

  Give examples of Grouping in the second sentence.

  BID HIM TAKE IT FOR HIS MODEL. Which is the emphatic
  word? Why?

  Par. 7. How is I THINK, BOYS connected with the rest of
  the speech? Apply this principle to other examples of
  direct speech interrupted by narrative. (Introduction,
  p. 24.)

  Par. 9. IF YOU ARE ... BE SO. Select the two emphatic
  Words and give your reason for emphasizing them,
  (Introduction, p. 30.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE KNIGHTS' CHORUS

From "Idylls of the King"


    Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May;
  Blow trumpet, the long night hath roll'd away!
  Blow thro' the living world--Let the King reign.

    Shall Rome or Heathen rule in Arthur's realm?
  Flash brand and lance, fall battleaxe upon helm,                     5
  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.

    Strike for the King and live! his knights have heard
  That God hath told the King a secret word.
  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.

    Blow trumpet! he will lift us from the dust!                      10
  Blow trumpet! live the strength, and die the lust!
  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.

    Strike for the King and die! and if thou diest,
  The King is King, and ever wills the highest.
  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the king reign.               15

    Blow, for our Sun is mighty in his May!
  Blow, for our Sun is mightier day by day!
  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.

    The King will follow Christ, and we the King
  In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing.                      20
  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.

      --_Alfred Tennyson_


  How do you describe this poem from the standpoint of;
  (1) the amount of energy, (2) excitement or nervous
  tension? With what Force and in what Pitch should it be
  read? (Introduction, pp. 22 and 25.)

  Account for the Time in which it is read. (Introduction,
  p. 13.)

  What is the purpose of the question in stanza ii? How is
  this purpose indicated by the Inflection? (Introduction,
  p. 19.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE NORTHERN STAR

A Tynemouth Ship


      The Northern Star
      Sail'd over the bar
  Bound to the Baltic Sea;
      In the morning gray
      She stretched away:--                                            5
  'Twas a weary day to me!

      For many an hour
      In sleet and shower
  By the lighthouse rock I stray;
      And watch till dark                                             10
      For the wingéd bark
  Of him that is far away.

      The castle's bound
      I wander round
  Amidst the grassy graves:                                           15
      But all I hear
      Is the north-wind drear,
  And all I see are the waves.

      The Northern Star
      Is set afar!                                                    20
  Set in the Baltic Sea:
      And the waves have spread
      The sandy bed
  That holds my Love from me.

      --_Unknown_


  PREPARATORY.--Tell the story of the poem, making as
  vivid as possible the scenes depicted. Compare
  Kingsley's _Three Fishers_, and Lucy Larcom's _Hannah
  binding Shoes_.

  Compare this poem with _The Knights' Chorus_ from the
  standpoint of the amount of energy. How is the
  difference between the two indicated vocally by the
  Force? (Introduction, p. 26.)

  What is the difference in nervous tension between the
  last stanza and the preceding ones? What difference in
  Pitch? (Introduction, p. 23.)

  Account for the Time in which it is read. (Introduction,
  p. 14.)

  11. WINGÉD, with sails

  15. TYNEMOUTH CASTLE used as a graveyard.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE INDIGO BIRD


                    When I see,
  High on the tip-top twig of a tree,
  Something blue by the breezes stirred,
  But so far up that the blue is blurred,
  So far up no green leaf flies.                                       5
  Twixt its blue and the blue of the skies,
  Then I know, ere a note be heard,
  That is naught but the Indigo bird.

      Blue on the branch and blue in the sky,
      And naught between but the breezes high,                        10
      And naught so blue by the breezes stirred
      As the deep, deep blue of the Indigo bird.

                    When I hear
  A song like a bird laugh, blithe and clear,
  As though of some airy jest he had heard                            15
  The last and the most delightful word,
  A laugh as fresh in the August haze
  As it was in the full-voiced April days,
  Then I know that my heart is stirred
  By the laugh-like song of the Indigo bird.                          20

      Joy in the branch and joy in the sky,
      And naught between but the breezes high;
      And naught so glad on the breezes heard
      As the gay, gay note of the Indigo bird.

      --_Ethelwyn Wetherald_ (_By permission_)


  PREPARATORY.--Suggest a picture which would serve as an
  illustration for this poem.

  How does the Imaging affect the Pitch in the first two
  stanzas?

  What feelings does the poem arouse? Where do these
  feelings reach a Climax? What is the effect on the
  Pitch?

  What other Climax is found in the poem besides the
  Climax of feeling?

  FAR, LAUGH, BRANCH, GLAD. (Appendix A, 1.)

  BREEZES STIRRED. (Appendix A, 6.)

  What is the Inflection on ll. 1-6 of stanza i and iii?
  (Introduction, p. 17.) How does the Pitch of these lines
  differ from that of ll. 7 and 8 of these stanzas?
  Account for the change. (Introduction, p. 23.)

  What are the contrasting words in l. 6, stanza i?

  Note the Grouping and Pause in ll. 3 and 4, stanza iii.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE PASTURE FIELD


  When spring has burned
    The ragged robe of winter, stitch by stitch,
  And deftly turned
    To moving melody the wayside ditch,
  The pale-green pasture field behind the bars                         5
  Is goldened o'er with dandelion stars.

  When summer keeps
    Quick pace with sinewy white-shirted arms,
  And daily steeps
    In sunny splendour all her spreading farms,                       10
  The pasture field is flooded foamy white
  With daisy faces looking at the light.

  When autumn lays
    Her golden wealth upon the forest floor,
  And all the days                                                    15
    Look backward at the days that went before,
  A pensive company, the asters, stand,
  Their blue eyes brightening the pasture land.

  When winter lifts
    A sounding trumpet to his strenuous lips,                         20
  And shapes the drifts
    To curves of transient loveliness, he slips
  Upon the pasture's ineffectual brown
  A swan-soft vestment delicate as down.

      --_Ethelwyn Wetherald_ (_By permission_)


  PREPARATORY.--Select the phrases which call into play
  the Imaging process.

  Describe four typical Canadian scenes suggested by this
  poem.

  Distinguish the sound of _a_ in PASTURE, RAGGED, BARS,
  etc. (Appendix A, 1.)

  What words express the central ideas in each stanza, and
  at the same time form a contrast with one another?

  What Inflection is used in the first four lines of each
  stanza? (Introduction, p. 16.)

  How does the Shading of these lines compare with that of
  the last two of each stanza? (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


SHIPWRECKED

From "Kidnapped"


1. The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible a thought to
me that I must pass it lightly over. In all the books I have read of
people cast away, either they had their pockets full of tools, or a
chest of things would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as if
on purpose. My case was very much different. I had nothing in my
pockets but money and Alan's silver button; and being inland bred, I
was as much short of knowledge as of means.

2. I knew indeed that shellfish were counted good to eat; and among
the rocks of the isle I found a great plenty of limpets, which at
first I could scarcely strike from their places, not knowing quickness
to be needful. There were, besides, some of the little shells that we
call buckies; I think periwinkle is the English name. Of these two I
made my whole diet, devouring them cold and raw as I found them; and
so hungry was I that at first they seemed to me delicious.

3. Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there was something
wrong in the sea about my island. But at least I had no sooner eaten
my first meal than I was seized with giddiness and retching, and lay
for a long time no better than dead. A second trial of the same food
(indeed, I had no other) did better with me and revived my strength.

4. But as long as I was on the island, I never knew what to expect
when I had eaten; sometimes all was well, and sometimes I was thrown
into a miserable sickness; nor could I ever distinguish what
particular fish it was that hurt me. All day it streamed rain; there
was no dry spot to be found; and when I lay down that night, between
two boulders that made a kind of roof, my feet were in a bog.

5. From a little up the hillside over the bay I could catch a sight of
the great ancient church and the roofs of the people's houses in Iona.
And on the other hand, over the low country of the Ross, I saw smoke
go up, morning and evening, as if from a homestead in a hollow of the
land.

6. I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold and had my head
half-turned with loneliness, and think of the fireside and of the
company till my heart burned. Altogether, this sight I had of men's
homes and comfortable lives, although it put a point on my own
sufferings, yet it kept hope alive, and helped me to eat my raw
shellfish (which had soon grown to be a disgust), and saved me from
the sense of horror I had whenever I was quite alone with dead rocks,
and fowls, and the rain, and the cold sea.

7. Charles the Second declared a man could stay outdoors more days in
the year in the climate of England than in any other. That was very
like a king with a palace at his back and changes of dry clothes. But
he must have had better luck on his flight from Worcester than I had
on that miserable isle. It was the height of summer; yet it rained for
more than twenty-four hours, and did not clear until the afternoon of
the third day.

8. There is a pretty high rock on the north-west of Earraid, which
(because it had a flat top and overlooked the Sound) I was much in the
habit of frequenting; not that I ever stayed in one place, save when
asleep, my misery giving me no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down with
continual and aimless goings and comings in the rain.

9. As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down on the top of
that rock to dry myself. The comfort of the sunshine is a thing I
cannot tell. It set me thinking hopefully of my deliverance, of which
I had begun to despair; and I scanned the sea and the Ross with a
fresh interest. On the south of my rock a part of the island jutted
out and hid the open ocean so that a boat could thus come quite near
me upon that side and I be none the wiser.

10. Well, all of a sudden, a coble, with a brown sail and a pair of
fishers aboard of it, came flying round that corner of the isle, bound
for Iona. I shouted out, and then fell on my knees on the rock and
prayed to them. They were near enough to hear--I could even see the
colour of their hair--and there was no doubt but they observed me, for
they cried out in the Gaelic tongue, and laughed. But the boat never
turned aside, and flew right on, before my eyes, for Iona.

11. I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along the shore from
rock to rock, crying on them piteously; even after they were out of
reach of my voice I still cried and waved to them; and when they were
quite gone I thought my heart would burst.

12. The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of mine)
I found my bodily strength run very low. But the sun shone, the air
was sweet, and what I managed to eat of the shellfish agreed well with
me and revived my courage.

13. I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the first thing
after I had eaten) before I observed a boat coming down the Sound, and
with her head, as I thought, in my direction.

14. I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; for I thought these
men might have thought better of their cruelty and be coming back to
my assistance. But another disappointment, such as yesterday's, was
more than I could bear. I turned my back accordingly upon the sea, and
did not look again till I had counted many hundreds.

15. The boat was still heading for the island. The next time I counted
the full thousand, as slowly as I could, my heart beating so as to
hurt me. And then it was out of all question. She was coming straight
to Earraid. I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the seaside
and out, from one rock to another, as far as I could go. It is a
marvel I was not drowned; for when I was brought to a stand at last my
legs shook under me, and my mouth was so dry I must wet it with the
sea water before I was able to shout.

16. All this time the boat was coming on; and now I was able to
perceive it was the same boat and the same two men as yesterday. This
I knew by their hair, which the one had of bright yellow and the other
black. But now there was a third man along with them, who looked to be
of a better class.

17. As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let down their
sail and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, they drew no nearer
in, and what frightened me most of all, the new man tee-heed with
laughter as he talked and looked at me.

18. Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a long while,
speaking fast and with many wavings of his hand. I told him I had no
Gaelic; and at this he became very angry, and I began to suspect he
thought he was talking English. Listening very close, I caught the
word "whateffer" several times; but all the rest was Gaelic, and might
have been Greek and Hebrew for me.

19. "Whatever," said I, to show him I had caught a word. "Yes,
yes--yes, yes," said he; and then he looked at the other men as much
as to say, "I told you I spoke English," and began again as hard as
ever in the Gaelic.

20. This time I picked out another word, "tide." Then I had a flash of
hope. I remembered he was always waving his hand toward the mainland
of the Ross.

21. "Do you mean when the tide is out?"--I cried, and could not
finish.

22. "Yes, yes," said he. "Tide."

23. At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser had once
more begun to tee-hee with laughter), leaped back the way I had come,
from one stone to another, and set off running across the isle as I
had never run before. In about half an hour I came upon the shores of
the creek, and, sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of
water, through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed with a
shout on the main island.

24. A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid, which is
only what they call a tidal islet, and, except, in the bottom of the
neaps, can be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours,
either dry-shod, or, at the most, by wading. Even I, who had seen the
tide going out and in before me in the bay, and even watched for the
ebbs, the better to get my shellfish--even I (I say), if I had sat
down to think, instead of raging at my fate, must have soon guessed
the secret and got free.

25. It was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was
rather that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the
trouble to come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that
island for close upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might
have left my bones there, in pure folly. And even as it was, I had
paid for it pretty dear, not only in past sufferings but in my present
case, being clothed like a beggar man, scarce able to walk, and in
great pain of my sore throat.

26. I have seen wicked men and fools--a great many of both--and I
believe they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.

      --_Robert Louis Stevenson_ (_By arrangement_)


  How are the parenthetical clauses in this selection kept
  in the back-ground? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  11. I could not believe such wickedness ... heart would
  burst. Observe the Climax. (Introduction, p. 31.)

  19. Whatever, said I, ... How is the direct speech made
  to stand out from the narration which interrupts it?
  (Introduction, p. 24.)

       *       *       *       *       *


ON HIS BLINDNESS


  When I consider how my light is spent
    Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
    And that one talent which is death to hide,
  Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
  To serve therewith my Maker, and present
    My true account, lest He, returning, chide;
    "Doth God exact day labour, light denied?"

  I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
  That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
    Either man's work, or His own gifts. Who best
    Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
  Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,
    And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
    They also serve who only stand and wait."

      --_Milton_


  PREPARATORY.--Divide the sonnet into two parts, giving
  each part a title.

  Read the first part in prose order, supplying the
  ellipses.

  How many distinct statements are there in the second
  part?

  Select the clauses of the first part that are equal in
  rank and have the same Shading. Show which should be
  made prominent, and which held in the background.

  Read the first part of this sonnet, with a view to
  Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)

  1-4. With what do you connect WHEN ... SPENT, and
  LODGED? How?

  How do you make the statements of the second part stand
  out singly? (Introduction, pp. 8 and 10.)

       *       *       *       *       *


BRIGGS IN LUCK

From "Doctor Birch and his Young Friends"


_Enter the Knife-boy._ Hamper for Briggses!
_Master Brown._ Hurray, Tom Briggs! I'll lend you my knife.

If this story does not carry its own moral, what fable does, I wonder?
Before the arrival of that hamper, Master Briggs was in no better
repute than any other young gentleman of the lower school; and in fact
I had occasion myself, only lately, to correct Master Brown for
kicking his friend's shins during the writing-lesson. But how this
basket, directed by his mother's house-keeper, and marked "GLASS WITH
CARE," whence I concluded that it contained some jam and some bottles
of wine probably, as well as the usual cake and game-pie, and half a
sovereign for the elder Master B., and five new shillings for Master
Decimus Briggs--how, I say, the arrival of this basket alters all
Master Briggs's circumstances in life, and the estimation in which
many persons regard him!

If he is a good-hearted boy, as I have reason to think, the very first
thing he will do, before inspecting the contents of the hamper, or
cutting into them with the knife which Master Brown has so
considerately lent him, will be to read over the letter from home
which lies on top of the parcel. He does so, as I remarked to Miss
Raby (for whom I happened to be mending pens when the little
circumstance arose), with a flushed face and winking eyes. Look how
the other boys are peering into the basket as he reads--I say to her,
"Isn't it a pretty picture?" Part of the letter is in a very large
hand. That is from his little sister. And I would wager that she
netted the little purse which he has just taken out of it, and which
Master Lynx is eyeing.

"You are a droll man, and remark all sorts of queer things," Miss Raby
says, smiling, and plying her swift needle and fingers as quick as
possible.

"I am glad we were both on the spot, and that the little fellow lies
under our guns as it were, and so is protected from some such brutal
school-pirate as young Duval for instance, who would rob him,
probably, of some of those good things; good in themselves, and better
because fresh from home. See, there is a pie as I said, and which I
daresay is better than those which are served at our table (but you
never take any notice of these kind of things, Miss Raby), a cake, of
course, a bottle of currant wine, jam-pots, and no end of pears in
the straw. With this money little Briggs will be able to pay the tick
which that impudent child has run up with Mrs. Ruggles; and I shall
let Briggs Major pay for the pencil-case which Bullock sold to
him.--It will be a lesson to the young prodigal for the future.

"But, I say, what a change there will be in his life for some time to
come, and at least until his present wealth is spent! The boys who
bully him will mollify toward him and accept his pie and sweetmeats.
They will have feasts in the bedroom; and that wine will taste more
deliciously to them than the best out of the Doctor's cellar. The
cronies will be invited. Young Master Wagg will tell his most dreadful
story and sing his best song for a slice of that pie. What a jolly
night they will have! When we go the rounds at night, Mr. Prince and I
will take care to make a noise before we come to Briggs's room, so
that the boys may have time to put the light out, to push the things
away, and to scud into bed. Doctor Spry may be put in requisition the
next morning."

"Nonsense! you absurd creature," cries out Miss Raby, laughing; and I
lay down the twelfth pen very nicely mended.

"Yes; after luxury comes the doctor, I say; after extravagance, a hole
in the breeches pocket. To judge from his disposition, Briggs Major
will not be much better off a couple of days hence than he is now,
and, if I am not mistaken, will end life a poor man. Brown will be
kicking his shins before a week is over, depend upon it. There are
boys and men of all sorts, Miss R.--there are selfish sneaks who hoard
until the store they daren't use grows mouldy--there are spendthrifts
who fling away, parasites who flatter and lick its shoes, and
snarling curs who hate and envy good fortune."

I put down the last of the pens, brushing away with it the quill chips
from her desk first, and she looked at me with a kind, wondering face.
I brushed them away, clicked the pen-knife into my pocket, made her a
bow, and walked off--for the bell was ringing for school.

      --_William Makepeace Thackeray_


  MASTER, BASKET, GLASS, HALF, AFTER. (Appendix A, 1.)

  FRIEND'S SHINS, SELFISH SNEAKS, SPENDTHRIFTS. (Appendix
  A, 3 and 6.)

  Make an analysis from the standpoint of Perspective of
  the following sentences: BUT HOW THIS BASKET ... REGARD
  HIM; IF HE IS A GOOD-HEARTED BOY ... PARCEL; HE DOES SO
  ... WINKING EYES; SEE THERE IS A PIE ... STRAW.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE LAUGHING SALLY


  A wind blew up from Pernambuco,
    (Yeo heave ho! the _Laughing Sally_!
    Hi yeo, heave away!)
  A wind blew out of the east-sou'-east
    And boomed at the break of day.                                    5

  The _Laughing Sally_ sped for her life,
    And a speedy craft was she.
  The black flag flew at her top to tell
    How she took toll of the sea.

  The wind blew up from Pernambuco;                                   10
    And in the breast of the blast
  Came the King's black ship like a hound let slip
    On the trail of the _Sally_ at last.

  For a day and a night, a night and a day;
    Over the blue, blue round,                                        15
  Went on the chase of the pirate quarry,
    The hunt of the tireless hound.

  "Land on the port bow!" came the cry;
    And the _Sally_ raced for shore,
  Till she reached the bar at the river-mouth                         20
    Where the shallow breakers roar.

  She passed the bar by a secret channel
    With clear tide under her keel,--
  For he knew the shoals like an open book,
    The captain at the wheel.                                         25

  She passed the bar, she sped like a ghost,
    Till her sails were hid from view
  By the tall, liana'd, unsunned boughs
    O'erbrooding the dark bayou.

  At moonrise up to the river-mouth                                   30
    Came the King's black ship of war,
  The red cross flapped in wrath at her peak,
    But she could not cross the bar.

  And while she lay in the run of the seas,
    By the grimmest whim of chance,                                   35
  Out of the bay to the north came forth
    Two battle-ships of France.

  On the English ship the twain bore down
    Like wolves that range by night;
  And the breakers' roar was heard no more                            40
    In the thunder of the fight.

  The crash of the broadsides rolled and stormed
    To the _Sally_ hid from view
  Under the tall liana'd boughs
    Of the moonless dark bayou.                                       45

  A boat ran out for news of the fight,
    And this was the word she brought--
  "The King's ship fights the ships of France
    As the King's ships all have fought!"

  Then muttered the mate, "I'm a man of Devon!"                       50
    And the captain thundered then--
  "There's English rope that bides for our necks,
    But we all be Englishmen!"

  The _Sally_ glided out of the gloom
    And down the moon-white river.                                    55
  She stole like a gray shark over the bar
    Where the long surf seethes for ever.

  She hove to under a high French hull,
    And the red cross rose to her peak.
  The French were looking for fight that night,                       60
    And they hadn't far to seek.

  Blood and fire on the streaming decks,
    And fire and blood below;
  The heat of hell, and the reek of hell,
    And the dead men laid a-row!                                      65

  And when the stars paled out of heaven
    And the red dawn-rays uprushed,
  The oaths of battle, the crash of timbers,
    The roar of the guns was hushed.

  With one foe beaten under his bow,                                  70
    The other far in flight,
  The English captain turned to look
    For his fellow in the fight.

  The English captain turned and stared;--
    For where the _Sally_ had been                                    75
  Was a single spar upthrust from the sea
    With the red cross flag serene!

  A wind blew up from Pernambuco
    (Yeo heave ho! the _Laughing Sally_!
    Hi yeo, heave away!)
  And boomed for the doom of the _Laughing Sally_!
    Gone down at the break of day.

      --_Charles G. D. Roberts_ (_By arrangement_)


  PREPARATORY.--Divide the poem into sections giving to
  each part a descriptive title. (Introduction, p. 10.)
  How is each section made to stand out?

  In what Time is the section which describes the flight
  of the _Laughing Sally_ read? Give your reason.
  (Introduction, pp. 5 and 13.)

  Contrast the first and last stanzas from the standpoint
  of feeling. How does the voice express the difference?

  BLEW, KNEW, NEWS, KING'S SHIP, SEETHES, AND. (Appendix
  A, 2, 3, 5, and 6.)

  Distinguish the sound of _a_ in LAUGHING SALLY, CRAFT,
  LAST, PASSED, WRATH, CHANCE, CRASH, DARK, FAR, DAWN.
  (Appendix A, 1.)

  8-9. Note the Grouping and Pause. (Introduction, p. 11.)

  11-13. Observe the Grouping. Which phrases have the
  heaviest Shading? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  16. Where is the Pause? Why?

  18. LAND ON THE PORT BOW. What change is made in Pitch
  and Force? Account for it. (Introduction, pp. 22 and
  25.)

  24. What is the Inflection on this line?

  30-37. Observe the Grouping and Shading throughout these
  stanzas.

  38-45. What sense is appealed to in these stanzas? How
  is the Time affected?

  46-53. How are the transitions to direct discourse
  indicated? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  What is the difference in Pitch between the mate's and
  the captain's speech? (Introduction, p. 23.)

  66-67. Note the contrast with the preceding stanza and
  with the two following lines.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE PRODIGAL SON

Luke xv 11-32


A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his
father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And
he divided unto them his living.

And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and
took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance
with riotous living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty
famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and
joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his
fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the
husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. And when he
came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have
bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and
go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against
heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son:
make me as one of thy hired servants.

And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way
off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his
neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned
against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called
thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best
robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his
feet: And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat,
and be merry; For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was
lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.

Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to
the house, he heard musick and dancing. And he called one of the
servants, and asked what these things meant. And he said unto him, Thy
brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because
he hath received him safe and sound. And he was angry, and would not
go in: therefore came his father out, and intreated him. And he
answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee,
neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment; and yet thou never
gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: But as soon
as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots,
thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. And he said unto him, Son,
thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that
we should make merry, and be glad, for this thy brother was dead, and
is alive again; and was lost, and is found.


  PREPARATORY.--Divide this parable into four parts,
  giving each part a descriptive title.

  Describe pictures to illustrate each part.

  Connect the parable with any similar story drawn from
  modern life. Fill in details to account for (_a_) the
  prodigal's desire to leave home, (_b_) the father's
  great joy at his return, (_c_) the elder brother's
  jealousy.

  HOW MANY HIRED SERVANTS, ETC. What are the prodigal's
  feelings? What new feeling is introduced with (_a_) I
  WILL ARISE, ETC.? (_b_) FATHER, I HAVE SINNED, ETC.?

  In what Time and Pitch do you read the passages which
  describe the father's joy? (Introduction, pp. 12 and
  22.)

  What feeling pervades the speech of the elder son? What
  is the motive of the father's reply?

  Explain the Emphasis in the following; (_a_) AND HE SENT
  HIM; (_b_) AND I PERISH; (_c_) NOW HIS ELDER SON; (_d_)
  THEREFORE CAME HIS FATHER OUT; (_e_) THOU NEVER GAVEST
  ME A KID. (Introduction, pp. 30 and 31.)

  Explain the Inflection on DEAD, ALIVE, LOST, FOUND.

       *       *       *       *       *


CHRISTMAS AT SEA


  The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
  The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
  The wind was a nor'-wester, blowing squally off the sea;
  And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.

  They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;               5
  But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
  We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
  And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.

  All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
  All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;      10
  All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
  For very life and nature we tacked from Head to Head.

  We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared,
  But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard;
  So's we saw cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,       15
  And the coast-guard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.

  The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
  The good red fires were burning bright in every 'longshore home;
  The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
  And I vow we sniffed the victuals, as the vessel went about.        20

  The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
  For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
  This day of our adversity was blessèd Christmas morn,
  And the house above the coast-guard's was the house where I was born.

  O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,           25
  My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;
  And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
  Go dancing round the china plates that stand upon the shelves.

  And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
  Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;        30
  And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
  To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessèd Christmas day.

  They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
  "All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call.
  "Captain, she'll never stand it," our first mate, Jackson, cried. 35
  "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.

  She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
  And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.
  As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,
  We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.          40

  And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
  As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
  But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
  Was just that I was leaving home, and my folks were growing old.

      --_Robert Louis Stevenson_ (_By arrangement_)


  PREPARATORY.--Supply an introduction and a conclusion
  for the story suggested by this poem.

  Indicate the pauses which should be made in this poem
  after words and phrases: (_a_) because of the Imaging
  process, (_b_) in order to conceive the thought more
  fully, (_c_) in passing from the narration of one action
  to that of another, (_d_) because of direct speech
  interrupted by narrative. (Introduction, pp. 7, 24, and
  27.)

  20 and 22. Indicate the Pause before phrases to prepare
  the mind for what is coming. (Introduction, p. 8.) What
  Inflection is used as a connecting link? (Introduction,
  p. 16.)

  27. FIRELIGHT. With what should it be connected? How?
  (Introduction, p. 24.)

  34. ALL HANDS ... SAILS. What change in Pitch and Force?
  (Introduction, pp. 22 and 26.)

  40. What is the Shading? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  Compare the mental state of the captain with that of the
  first mate. How is the difference indicated in the Pitch
  of their respective speeches? (Introduction, p. 22.)

  Connect stanzas vii and viii with the last two lines of
  the poem. What background of thought is suggested? How
  is the rate of reading affected by the thoughts
  suggested? (Introduction, p. 14.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE EVENING WIND


  Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
    That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
  Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow:
    Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
  Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,                         5
    Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
  And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
  To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!

  Nor I alone;--a thousand bosoms round
    Inhale thee in the fulness of delight;                            10
  And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
    Livelier at coming of the wind of night;
  And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
    Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.
  Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,                        15
  God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!

  Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,
    Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
  The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
    Summoning from the innumerable boughs                             20
  The strange deep harmonies that haunt his breast:
    Pleasant shall be thy way, where meekly bows
  The shutting flower and darkling waters pass,
  And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass.

  The faint old man shall lean his silver head                        25
    To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
  And dry the moistened curls that overspread
    His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
  And they who stand about the sick man's bed
    Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,                         30
  And softly part his curtains to allow
  Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.

  Go,--but the circle of eternal change,
    Which is the life of nature, shall restore,
  With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,                   35
    Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more;
  Sweet odours in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
    Shall tell the home-sick manner of the shore;
  And, listening to thy murmur, he shall dream
  He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.                      40

      --_William Cullen Bryant_


  PREPARATORY.--Describe fully the picture suggested by
  (_a_) the first three lines of stanza i, (_b_) the last
  four lines of stanza i, (_c_) stanza ii. Give to each a
  suitable title.

  1, 2, and 6. (Appendix A, 3, 4, and 8.)

  1. THOU. What is the Inflection?

  6. How does the sound accord with the sense?

  15. GO FORTH ... GO FORTH. Where is the Emphasis?
  (Introduction, p. 31.)

  19-21. What feeling is aroused? How is the Quality of
  voice affected? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  25-32. What change in Time? Account for it.
  (Introduction, p. 13.)

  31. What atmosphere is created in this line? What
  Quality of voice is the result? What lines in the last
  stanza have the same atmosphere? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  36. With what should THEE be connected? In what way?

  33-36. What portions are read in lighter Shading?
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


PARADISE AND THE PERI

From "Lalla Rookh"


    One morn a Peri at the gate
    Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
  And as she listened to the Springs
    Of Life within, like music flowing,
  And caught the light upon her wings                                  5
    Through the half-open portal glowing,
  She wept to think her recreant race
  Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
  "How happy," exclaimed this child of air,
  "Are the holy spirits who wander there,                             10
    'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall;
  Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
  And the stars themselves have flowers for me,
    One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all!"

  The glorious Angel, who was keeping                                 15
  The Gates of Light, beheld her weeping;
  And, as he nearer drew and listened
  To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened
  Within his eyelids, like the spray
    From Eden's fountain, when it lies                                20
  On the blue flower, which--Brahmins say--
    Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.
  "Nymph of a fair, but erring line!"
  Gently he said,--"One hope is thine.
    'Tis written in the Book of Fate,                                 25
    _The Peri yet may be forgiven
  Who brings to this Eternal Gate
    The Gift that is most dear to Heaven!_
  Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin:
  'Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in!"                                 30

  Downward the Peri turns her gaze,
  And, through the war-field's bloody haze,
  Beholds a youthful warrior stand
    Alone, beside his native river,--
  The red blade broken in his hand,                                   35
    And the last arrow in his quiver.
  "Live," said the conqueror, "live to share
  The trophies and the crowns I bear!"
  Silent that youthful warrior stood--
  Silent he pointed to the flood                                      40
  All crimson with his country's blood,
  Then sent his last remaining dart,
  For answer, to th' invader's heart.

  False flew the shaft, though pointed well;
  The tyrant lived, the hero fell!                                    45
  Yet marked the Peri where he lay,
    And when the rush of war was past,
  Swiftly descending on a ray
    Of morning light, she caught the last,
  Last glorious drop his heart had shed,                              50
  Before its free-born spirit fled!

  "Be this," she cried, as she winged her flight,
  "My welcome gift at the Gates of Light."
  "Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave
    The gift into his radiant hand,                                   55
  "Sweet is our welcome of the brave
    Who die thus for their native land.--
  But see--alas!--the crystal bar
  Of Eden moves not--holier far
  Than e'en this drop the boon must be,                               60
  That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee!"

  But nought can charm the luckless Peri;
  Her soul is sad, her wings are weary.
    When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging
  Slowly, she sees a child at play,                                   65
  Among the rosy wild-flowers singing,
    As rosy and as wild as they;
  Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
  The beautiful blue damsel-flies
  That fluttered round the jasmine stems,                             70
  Like-wingèd flowers or flying gems:
  And, near the boy, who, tired with play,
  Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
  She saw a wearied man dismount
    From his hot steed, and on the brink                              75
  Of a small imaret's rustic fount
    Impatient fling him down to drink.
  Then swift his haggard brow he turned
    To the fair child, who fearless sat,
  Though never yet hath daybeam burned                                80
    Upon a brow more fierce than that.

  But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
    As slow the orb of daylight sets,
  Is rising sweetly on the air,
    From Syria's thousand minarets!                                   85
  The boy has started from the bed
  Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
  And down upon the fragrant sod
    Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
  Lisping th' eternal name of God                                     90
    From purity's own cherub mouth.

  And how felt he, the wretched man,
  Reclining there--while memory ran
  O'er many a year of guilt and strife,
  Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,                               95
  Nor found one sunny resting-place,
  Nor brought him back one branch of grace?
  "There was a time," he said, in mild,
  Heart-humbled tones, "thou blessed child!
    When, young and haply pure as thou,                              100
    I looked and prayed like thee--but now--"
  He hung his head--each nobler aim,
    And hope, and feeling, which had slept
  From boyhood's hour, that instant came
    Fresh o'er him, and he wept--he wept!                            105

  And now, behold him kneeling there
  By the child's side, in humble prayer,
  While the same sunbeam shines upon
  The guilty and the guiltless one,
  And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven                           110
  The triumph of a soul forgiven!

  'Twas when the golden orb had set,
  While on their knees they lingered yet,
  There fell a light, more lovely far
  Than ever came from sun or star,                                   115
  Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
  Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek:
  To mortal eye that light might seem
  A northern flash or meteor beam--
  But well th' enraptured Peri knew                                  120
  'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw
  From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear--
  Her harbinger of glory near!
  "Joy, joy for ever! my task is done:
  The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won!"                          125

      --_Thomas Moore_


  PREPARATORY.--Divide this selection into four scenes,
  describing minutely each scene, and pointing out what
  part of the poem it covers. (Introduction, p. 10.)

  What feelings are aroused by each scene?

  SPIRIT, NATIVE, PURITY. (Appendix A, 8.)

  1-4. Give two examples of Grouping from these lines.
  Give numerous other examples throughout the selection,
  and show how Grouping affects the Inflection and Pause.
  (Introduction, pp. 10-12.)

  3-7. Read with a view to Perspective. Select other
  examples, noting especially ll. 17-22, 47-51, 72-77, and
  112-117. (Introduction, p. 33.)

  9. EXCLAIMED THIS CHILD OF AIR. (Introduction, pp. 24
  and 27.) Give other examples of direct discourse broken
  by narration.

  54 and 56. SWEET ... SWEET. Which word is more emphatic?
  (Introduction, p. 31.) Compare l. 105.

  84. With what should IS RISING be connected? How?
  Compare UPON THE TEAR, l. 116.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE LADY OF SHALOTT

PART 1


  On either side the river lie
  Long fields of barley and of rye,
  That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
  And thro' the field the road runs by
      To many-tower'd Camelot;
  And up and down the people go,
  Gazing where the lilies blow
  Round an island there below,
      The island of Shalott.

  Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
  Little breezes dusk and shiver
  Thro' the wave that runs for ever
  By the island in the river
      Flowing down to Camelot.
  Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
  Overlook a space of flowers,
  And the silent isle embowers
      The Lady of Shalott.

  By the margin, willow-veil'd,
  Slide the heavy barges trail'd
  By slow horses; and unhail'd
  The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
      Skimming down to Camelot:
  But who has seen her wave her hand?
  Or at the casement seen her stand?
  Or is she known in all the land,
      The Lady of Shalott?

  Only reapers, reaping early
  In among the bearded barley,
  Hear a song that echoes cheerly
  From the river winding clearly,
      Down to tower'd Camelot:
  And by the moon the reaper weary,
  Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
  Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
      Lady of Shalott."


PART II

  There she weaves by night and day
  A magic web with colours gay.
  She has heard a whisper say,
  A curse is on her if she stay
      To look down to Camelot.
  She knows not what the curse may be,
  And so she weaveth steadily,
  And little other care hath she,
      The Lady of Shalott.

  And moving thro' a mirror clear
  That hangs before her all the year,
  Shadows of the world appear.
  There she sees the highway near
      Winding down to Camelot:
  There the river eddy whirls,
  And there the surly village-churls,
  And the red cloaks of market girls,
      Pass onward from Shalott.

  Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
  An abbot on an ambling pad,
  Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
  Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
      Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
  And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
  The knights come riding two and two:
  She hath no loyal knight and true,
      The Lady of Shalott.

  But in her web she still delights
  To weave the mirror's magic sights,
  For often thro' the silent nights
  A funeral, with plumes and lights
      And music, went to Camelot:
  Or when the moon was overhead,
  Came two young lovers lately wed;
  "I am half sick of shadows," said
      The Lady of Shalott.


PART III

  A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
  He rode between the barley-sheaves,
  The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
  And flamed upon the brazen greaves
      Of bold Sir Lancelot.
  A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
  To a lady in his shield,
  That sparkled on the yellow field,
      Beside remote Shalott.

  The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
  Like to some branch of stars we see
  Hung in the golden Galaxy.
  The bridle bells rang merrily
      As he rode down to Camelot:
  And from his blazon'd baldric slung
  A mighty silver bugle hung,
  And as he rode his armour rung,
      Beside remote Shalott.

  All in the blue unclouded weather
  Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
  The helmet and the helmet-feather
  Burn'd like one burning flame together,
      As he rode down to Camelot.
  As often thro' the purple night,
  Below the starry clusters bright,
  Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
      Moves over still Shalott.

  His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
  On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
  From underneath his helmet flow'd
  His coal-black curls as on he rode,
      As he rode down to Camelot.
  From the bank and from the river
  He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
  "Tirra lirra," by the river
      Sang Sir Lancelot.

  She left the web, she left the loom,
  She made three paces thro' the room,
  She saw the water-lily bloom,
  She saw the helmet and the plume,
      She look'd down to Camelot.
  Out flew the web and floated wide;
  The mirror crack'd from side to side;
  "The curse is come upon me," cried
      The Lady of Shalott.


PART IV

  In the stormy east-wind straining,
  The pale yellow woods were waning,
  The broad stream in his banks complaining,
  Heavily the low sky raining
      Over tower'd Camelot;
  Down she came and found a boat
      Beneath a willow left afloat,
  And round about the prow she wrote
      _The Lady of Shalott_.

  And down the river's dim expanse
  Like some bold seër in a trance,
  Seeing all his own mischance--
  With a glassy countenance
      Did she look to Camelot.
  And at the closing of the day
  She loosed the chain and down she lay;
  The broad stream bore her far away,
      The Lady of Shalott.

  Lying, robed in snowy white
  That loosely flew to left and right--
  The leaves upon her falling light--
  Thro' the noises of the night
      She floated down to Camelot:
  And as the boat-head wound along
  The willowy hills and fields among,
  They heard her singing her last song,
      The Lady of Shalott.

  Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
  Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
  Till her blood was frozen slowly,
  And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
      Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
  For ere she reach'd upon the tide
  The first house by the water-side,
  Singing in her song she died,
      The Lady of Shalott.

  Under tower and balcony,
  By garden-wall and gallery,
  A gleaming shape she floated by,
  Dead-pale between the houses high,
      Silent into Camelot.
  Out upon the wharfs they came,
  Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
  And round the prow they read her name,
      _The Lady of Shalott_.

  Who is this? and what is here?
  And in the lighted palace near
  Died the sound of royal cheer;
  And they cross'd themselves for fear,
      All the knights at Camelot:
  But Lancelot mused a little space;
  He said, "She has a lovely face;
  God in his mercy lend her grace,
      The Lady of Shalott."

      --_Alfred Tennyson_


  PREPARATORY.--Compare the poet's treatment of the story
  of _The Lady of Shalott_ with that given in _Lancelot
  and Elaine_.

  Combine the smaller pictures in this poem into a number
  of larger ones.

  Give to the larger pictures titles which suggest the
  different stages in the development of the story.

  Exercises in Articulation. (Appendix A. See Examples)


  PART I

  Stanza i, ll. 1 and 4. Where is the Pause in each line?
  Why? (Introduction, p. 11.)

  Stanza iii, ll. 1 and 2. Account for the change in Time.
  (Introduction, p. 13.)

  2. Where is the Pause?

  6-9. What is the Inflection in these questions?
  (Introduction, p. 19.)

  Stanza iv, l. 3. HEAR. With what word should this be
  connected? How? (Introduction, p. 16.) Note the Shading.

  6. Where are the Pauses in this line? Account for them.

  8-9. In what Quality of voice are these lines read?
  (Introduction, p. 6.) Compare from this standpoint the
  last lines of Parts II, III, and IV.


  Part II

  Stanza i, ll. 3-5. Note the spontaneous imitation.
  (Introduction, pp. 5 and 6.)

  AND THERE THE SURLY ... TWO AND TWO. Note the three
  separate groups of passers-by. Which group has the most
  significance in its bearing on the rest of the poem? How
  does the voice indicate this relative significance?
  (Introduction, pp. 24 and 30.)

  Stanza iii, l. 8. How is the transition made effective?
  (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

  Stanza iv. FOR OFTEN ... CAMELOT. Observe the Shading.
  (Introduction, p. 33.)


  PART III

  HIS SHIELD, RODE DOWN, ARMOUR RUNG, SADDLE-LEATHER,
  COAL-BLACK CURLS. (Appendix A, 6.)

  Stanza i, l. 4. Observe the Grouping.

  Stanza ii, l. 2. Where is the Pause? Explain. What is
  the Inflection on STARS?

  Compare the Shading in ll. 6 and 7.

  Stanza iii. What are the central ideas of ll. 2 and 3?
  How does the reader make them stand out?

  6-8. Note the continuous Inflection. (Introduction, p.
  17.)

  Stanza iv, ll. 3 and 4. How does the Grouping here
  affect the Pause and the Inflection?

  Stanza v, ll. 1-4. What change in the voice indicates
  the abrupt transition? What atmosphere does the voice
  create as a preparation for the climax of the last four
  lines?

  1. What is the central idea of this line?

  6-7. What change in Force, Pitch, and Stress expresses
  the sudden disaster?


  PART IV

  Compare the atmosphere of the first four and a half
  stanzas of this Part with the first four of Part III,
  and also with the remainder of Part IV. What is the
  difference in Pitch, Force, and Time? (Introduction, pp.
  22, 26, and 13.)

       *       *       *       *       *


HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD

From "The Princess"


  Home they brought her warrior dead:
  She nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry:
  All her maidens, watching, said,
  "She must weep or she will die."

  Then they praised him, soft and low,
  Call'd him worthy to be loved,
  Truest friend and noblest foe;
  Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

  Stole a maiden from her place,
  Lightly to the warrior stept,
  Took the face-cloth from the face;
  Yet she neither moved nor wept.

  Rose a nurse of ninety years,
  Set his child upon her knee--
  Like summer tempest came her tears--
  "Sweet my child, I live for thee."

      --_Alfred Tennyson_


  See Introduction, p. 6.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SKY

From "Modern Painters"


1. It is a strange thing how little in general people know about the
sky. It is the part of creation in which nature has done more for the
sake of pleasing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking
to him and teaching him, than in any other of her works, and it is
just the part in which we least attend to her.

2. There are not many of her other works in which some more material
or essential purpose than the mere pleasing of man is not answered by
every part of their organization; but every essential purpose of the
sky might, so far as we know, be answered, if once in three days, or
thereabouts, a great ugly black rain-cloud were brought up over the
blue, and everything well watered, and so all left blue again till
next time, with perhaps a film of morning and evening mist for dew.

3. And instead of this, there is not a moment of any day of our lives,
when nature is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture,
glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and constant
principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is
all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleasure. And every
man, wherever placed, however far from other sources of interest or of
beauty, has this doing for him constantly.

4. The noblest scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by few;
it is not intended that man should live always in the midst of them,
he injures them by his presence, he ceases to feel them if he be
always with them; but the sky is for all; bright as it is, it is not
"too bright, nor good, for human nature's daily food"; it is fitted in
all its functions for the perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart,
for the soothing it and purifying it from its dross and dust.
Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never the
same for two moments together; almost human in its passions, almost
spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine in its infinity, its appeal
to what is immortal in us, is as distinct, as its ministry of
chastisement or of blessing to what is mortal, is essential.

5. And yet we never attend to it, we never make it a subject of
thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations; we look upon
all by which it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon all
which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to
receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which
we share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of
meaningless and monotonous accidents too common and too vain to be
worthy of a moment of watchfulness, or a glance of admiration. If in
our moments of utter idleness and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a
last resource, which of its phenomena do we speak of?

6. One says it has been wet, and another it has been windy, and
another it has been warm. Who, among the whole chattering crowd, can
tell me of the forms and the precipices of the chain of tall white
mountains that girded the horizon at noon yesterday? Who saw the
narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and smote upon their
summits until they melted and mouldered away in a dust of blue rain?
Who saw the dance of the dead clouds when the sunlight left them last
night, and the west wind blew them before it like withered leaves?

7. All has passed, unregretted as unseen; or if the apathy be ever
shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is gross, or what
is extraordinary; and yet it is not in the broad and fierce
manifestations of the elemental energies, not in the clash of the
hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest characters of
the sublime are developed. God is not in the earthquake, nor in the
fire, but in the still, small voice.

8. They are but the blunt and the low faculties of our nature, which
can only be addressed through lamp-black and lightning. It is in
quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty, the deep, and the
calm, and the perpetual,--that which must be sought ere it is seen,
and loved ere it is understood,--things which the angels work out for
us daily, and yet vary eternally, which are never wanting, and never
repeated, which are to be found always yet each found but once; it is
through these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught, and the
blessing of beauty given.

      --_John Ruskin_

     (_By arrangement with George Allen, Publisher_)


  SPIRITUAL, PRECIPICES, SUMMITS, UNOBTRUSIVE. (Appendix
  A, 8.)

  Par. 1. With what is LEAST ATTEND contrasted?

  Par. 2. Why is SKY an emphatic word? Give examples of
  momentary completeness. (Introduction, p. 16.)

  Par. 3. What Inflection is placed on PERFECT BEAUTY?

  Par. 4. Point out the contrasts in the first sentence.
  What word is contrasted with DISTINCT?

  Par. 5. With what is ONLY AS A SUCCESSION, ETC.,
  connected in sense? How does the voice make the
  connection? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  Par. 7. UNREGRETTED, UNSEEN. Note the transferred
  emphasis. (Introduction, p. 32.)

  Par. 7. AND YET IT IS NOT ... NOR IN THE FIRE. Account
  for the Inflection. (Introduction, p. 17.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS


  "Out in the meadows the young grass springs,
    Shivering with sap," said the larks, "and we
  Shoot into air with our strong young wings,
    Spirally up over level and lea;
  Come, O Swallows, and fly with us
  Now that horizons are luminous!
    Evening and morning the world of light,
    Spreading and kindling, is infinite!"

  Far away, by the sea in the south,
    The hills of olive and slopes of fern
  Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth,
    Under the heavens that beam and burn;
  And all the swallows were gather'd there
  Flitting about in the fragrant air,
    And heard no sound from the larks, but flew
    Flashing under the blinding blue.

  Out of the depths of their soft rich throats
    Languidly fluted the thrushes, and said:
  "Musical thought in the mild air floats,
    Spring is coming and winter is dead!
  Come, O Swallows, and stir the air,
  For the buds are all bursting unaware,
    And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long
    To hear the sound of your low sweet song."

  Over the roofs of the white Algiers,
    Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar,
  Flitted the swallows, and not one hears
    The call of the thrushes from far, from far;
  Sigh'd the thrushes; then, all at once,
  Broke out singing the old sweet tones,
    Singing the bridal of sap and shoot,
    The tree's slow life between root and fruit.

  But just when the dingles of April flowers
    Shine with the earliest daffodils,
  When, before sunrise, the cold clear hours
    Gleam with a promise that noon fulfils,--
  Deep in the leafage the cuckoo cried,
  Perch'd on a spray by a rivulet-side,
    "Swallows, O Swallows, come back again
    To swoop and herald the April rain."

  And something awoke in the slumbering heart
    Of the alien birds in their African air,
  And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart,
    And met in the broad white dreamy square;
  And the sad slave-woman, who lifted up
  From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup,
  Said to herself, with a weary sigh,
  "To-morrow the swallows will northward fly!"

     --_Edmund William Gosse_


  How does the vocal expression of the descriptive parts
  of the poem differ from that of the call of the birds?
  Account for the difference. (Introduction, p. 22.)

  Point out the contrasts of thought and feeling in the
  third and fourth stanzas respectively. Show a
  corresponding contrast in vocal expression.

  What line expresses the central idea of the fifth
  stanza? How is this shown? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  Account for the Pitch and the Force used in the
  slave-woman's speech.

  Supply a background of thought for the last four lines.
  How does this affect the Time? (Introduction, p. 14.)

       *       *       *       *       *


BARBARA FRIETCHIE


  Up from the meadows rich with corn,
  Clear in the cool September morn,

  The clustered spires of Frederick stand
  Green walled by the hills of Maryland.

  Round about them orchards sweep,                                     5
  Apple-and peach-tree fruited deep,--

  Fair as a garden of the Lord
  To the eye of the famished rebel horde,

  On that pleasant morn of the early fall
  When Lee march'd over the mountain-wall,--                          10

  Over the mountains winding down,
  Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

  Forty flags with their silver stars,
  Forty flags with their crimson bars,

  Flapped in the morning wind: the sun                                15
  Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

  Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
  Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

  Bravest of all in Frederick town,
  She took up the flag the men hauled down;                           20

  In her attic window the staff she set,
  To show that one heart was loyal yet.

  Up the street came the rebel tread,
  Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

  Under his slouched hat left and right                               25
  He glanced; the old flag met his sight.

  "Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
  "Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast.

  It shivered the window, pane and sash;
  It rent the banner with seam and gash.                              30

  Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
  Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;

  She leaned far out on the window-sill,
  And shook it forth with a royal will.

  "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,                            35
  But spare your country's flag!" she said.

  A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
  Over the face of the leader came;

  The nobler nature within him stirred
  To life at that woman's deed and word:                              40

  "Who touches a hair of yon gray head,
  Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.

  All day long through Frederick street
  Sounded the tread of marching feet:

  All day long that free flag tossed                                  45
  Over the heads of the rebel host.

  Ever its torn folds rose and fell
  On the loyal winds that loved it well;

  And, through the hill-gaps, sunset light
  Shone over it with a warm good-night.                               50

  Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
  And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

  Honour to her! and let a tear
  Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

  Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,                                     55
  Flag of Freedom and Union wave!

  Peace and order and beauty draw
  Round thy symbol of light and law;

  And ever the stars above look down
  On thy stars below in Frederick town!                               60

      --_John Greenleaf Whittier_


  PREPARATORY.--Divide the poem into sections, giving each
  a descriptive title. (Introduction, p. 10.)

  Describe the scene portrayed in the first fifteen lines,
  supplementing your description by a black-board diagram.

  ll. 1-2. What is the Inflection? Why?

  l. 3. Note the Grouping and Pause.

  l. 3. STAND; l. 7, LORD; l. 8, HORDE. What is the
  Inflection? Why?

  l. 15. (Introduction, p. 9.)

  l. 20. What are the emphatic words? Are both words of a
  contrast necessarily emphatic?

  ll. 17-22. Note the change in nervous tension. What
  effect has this on the key of the voice? (Introduction,
  p. 25.)

  ll. 25-26. How do these lines illustrate the truth that
  the Visualization of a scene is a necessary forerunner
  of correct vocal expression?

  ll. 27-28. HALT! FIRE! What change in vocal expression
  accompanies the transition to abrupt command?

  l. 31. With what do you connect FROM THE BROKEN STAFF?
  How? (Introduction, p. 16.)

  ll. 31-36. What part should Imitation play here?
  (Introduction, pp. 5 and 6.)

  ll. 37-38. (Introduction, p. 14.)

  l. 39. Note Grouping and Pause.

  ll. 41-42. (Introduction, p. 5.)

  l. 43. With what do you connect THROUGH FREDERICK
  STREET? How? Where do you pause in this line?

  l. 51. (Introduction, p. 9.)

       *       *       *       *       *


BLESS THE LORD, O MY SOUL

Psalm ciii


  Bless the Lord, O my soul:
    And all that is within me, bless his holy name
  Bless the Lord, O my soul,
    And forget not all his benefits:
  Who forgiveth all thine iniquities;
    Who healeth all thy diseases;
  Who redeemeth thy life from destruction;
    Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies:
  Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;
    So that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.

  The Lord executeth righteousness
    And judgment for all that are oppressed.
  He made known his ways unto Moses,
    His acts unto the children of Israel.
  The Lord is merciful and gracious,
    Slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
  He will not always chide:
    Neither will he keep his anger for ever.
  He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
    Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

  For as the heaven is high above the earth,
    So great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
  As far as the east is from the west,
    So far hath he removed our transgressions from us
  Like as a father pitieth his children,
    So the Lord pitieth them that fear him.
  For he knoweth our frame;
    He remembereth that we are dust.

  As for man, his days are as grass:
    As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
  For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone;
    And the place thereof shall know it no more.
  But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting
       upon them that fear him,
    And his righteousness unto children's children;
  To such as keep his covenant,
    And to those that remember his commandments to do them.

  The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens;
    And his kingdom ruleth over all.
  Bless the Lord, ye his angels,
    That excel in strength,
  That do his commandments,
    Hearkening unto the voice of his word.
  Bless ye the Lord, all ye his hosts;
    Ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.
  Bless the Lord, all his works,
    In all places of his dominion:
  Bless the Lord, O my soul.

      --_As arranged by Richard G. Moulton_


  PREPARATORY.--What attitude of mind does the language of
  this Psalm indicate? What Stress of voice is its natural
  expression? (Introduction, p. 29.)

  Articulation. (Appendix A, 3.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE ETERNAL GOODNESS


  I know not what the future hath
  Of marvel or surprise,
  Assured alone that life and death
  His mercy underlies.

  And if my heart and flesh are weak                                   5
  To bear an untried pain,
  The bruised reed He will not break,
  But strengthen and sustain.

  No offering of my own I have,
  Nor works my faith to prove;                                        10
  I can but give the gifts He gave,
  And plead His love for love.

  And so beside the Silent Sea
  I wait the muffled oar;
  No harm from Him can come to me                                     15
  On ocean or on shore.

  I know not where His islands lift
  Their fronded palms in air;
  I only know I cannot drift
  Beyond His love and care.                                           20

      --_John Greenleaf Whittier_


  PREPARATORY.--What attitude of mind is suggested by this
  poem?

  How does it differ from that suggested by the preceding
  selection? What is the difference in vocal expression?

  Account for the Inflection placed on the negative
  statements in this poem. (Introduction, pp. 17 and 18.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE KING OF GLORY

Psalm xxiv

(Anthems for the Inauguration of Jerusalem)


_I.--At the Foot of the Hill_

FIRST CHOIR

  The earth is the LORD'S, and the fulness thereof;
    The world, and they that dwell therein.
  For He hath founded it upon the seas,
    And established it upon the floods.
  Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD?
    And who shall stand in His holy place?


SECOND CHOIR

  He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart;
    Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity,
    And hath not sworn deceitfully.
  He shall receive a blessing from the LORD,
    And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
  This is the generation of them that seek after Him,
    That seek Thy face, O God of Jacob.


_II.--Before the Gates_

FIRST CHOIR

  Lift up your heads, O ye gates;
    And be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors:
    And the King of Glory shall come in.


SECOND CHOIR

  Who is the King of Glory?


FIRST CHOIR

  The LORD strong and mighty,
  The LORD mighty in battle.


FIRST CHOIR

  Lift up your heads, O ye gates;
  Yea, lift them up, ye everlasting doors:
  And the King of Glory shall come in.


SECOND CHOIR

  Who is this King of Glory?


FIRST CHOIR

  The LORD of Hosts,
  He is the King of Glory.

      --_As arranged by Richard G. Moulton_

       *       *       *       *       *


THE FOUR-HORSE RACE

From "Black Rock"


1. The great event of the day, however, was to be the four-horse race,
for which three teams were entered--one from the mines driven by
Nixon, Craig's friend, a citizens' team, and Sandy's. The race was
really between the miners' team and that from the woods, for the
citizens' team, though made up of speedy horses, had not been driven
much together, and knew neither their driver nor each other. In the
miners' team were four bays, very powerful, a trifle heavy perhaps,
but well matched, perfectly trained, and perfectly handled by their
driver. Sandy had his long rangy roans, and for leaders, a pair of
half-broken pinto bronchos. The pintos, caught the summer before upon
the Alberta prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked and uncertain.
They were Baptiste's special care and pride. If they would only run
straight, there was little doubt that they would carry the roans and
themselves to glory; but one could not tell the moment they might
bolt or kick things to pieces.

2. Being the only non-partisan in the crowd, I was asked to referee.
The race was about half a mile and return, the first and last quarters
being upon the ice. The course, after leaving the ice, led up from the
river by a long, easy slope to the level above; and at the further
end, curved somewhat sharply around the Old Fort. The only condition
attaching to the race was, that the teams should start from the
scratch, make the turn of the Fort, and finish at the scratch. There
were no vexing regulations as to fouls. The man making the foul would
find it necessary to reckon with the crowd, which was considered
sufficient guarantee for a fair and square race. Owing to the hazards
of the course, the result would depend upon the skill of the drivers
quite as much as the speed of the teams. The points of hazard were at
the turn round the Old Fort, and at a little ravine which led down to
the river, over which the road passed by means of a long, log bridge
or causeway.

3. From a point upon the high bank of the river, the whole course lay
in open view. It was a scene full of life and vividly picturesque.
There were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in ordinary
garb; ranch-men in wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and leggings,
some with cartridge-belts and pistols; a few half-breeds and Indians
in half-native, half-civilized dress; and scattering through the
crowd, the lumbermen with gay scarlet and blue blanket coats, and some
with knitted tuques of the same colour. A very good-natured but
extremely uncertain crowd it was. At the head of each horse stood a
man, but at the pintos' heads Baptiste stood alone, trying to hold
down the off-leader, thrown into a frenzy of fear by the yelling of
the crowd.

4. Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute
stillness, came the words: "Are you ready?" then the pistol-shot, and
the great race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the shrill
cry of Baptiste, as he struck his broncho with the palm of his hand,
and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it shot past.

5. Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before
the other teams; but, terrified by the yelling of the crowd, instead
of bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they wheeled to
the right and were almost across the river before Sandy could swing
them back into the course.

6. Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English,
continued to strike through all other sounds, till they gained the top
of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in front, the
citizens' team leading, with the miners' following close. The moment
the pintos caught sight of the teams before them, they set off at a
terrific pace and steadily devoured the intervening space. Nearer and
nearer the turn came, the eight horses in front, running straight and
well within their speed. After them flew the pintos, running savagely
with ears set back, leading well the big roans, thundering along and
gaining at every bound. And now the citizens' team had almost reached
the Fort, running hard and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew
what he was about, and was simply steadying his team for the turn. The
event proved his wisdom, for in the turn the leading team left the
track, lost a moment or two in the deep snow, and before they could
regain the road, the bays had swept superbly past, leaving their
rivals to follow in the rear. On came the pintos, swiftly nearing the
Fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make the turn. But Sandy knows
his leaders. They have their eyes upon the teams in front, and need no
touch of rein. Without the slightest change in speed the nimble-footed
bronchos round the turn, hauling the big roans after them, and fall in
behind the citizens' team, which is regaining steadily the ground lost
in the turn.

7. And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine. The bays in
front, running with mouths wide open, are evidently doing their best;
behind them, and every moment nearing them, but at the limit of their
speed too, come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team; while opposite
their driver are the pintos, pulling hard, eager and fresh. Their
temper is too uncertain to send them to the front; they run well
following, but when leading cannot be trusted, and besides, a broncho
hates a bridge; so Sandy holds them where they are, waiting and hoping
for his chance after the bridge is crossed. Foot by foot the citizens'
team creep up upon the flank of the bays, with the pintos in turn
hugging them closely, till it seems as if the three, if none slackens,
must strike the bridge together; and this will mean destruction to one
at least. This danger Sandy perceives, but he dare not check his
leaders. Suddenly, within a few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws
himself upon the lines, wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with
a quick swing, forces the pintos down the steep side of the ravine,
which is almost sheer ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring
course to take, for the ravine, though not deep, is full of
undergrowth, and is partially closed up by a brush heap at the further
end. But with a yell, Baptiste hurls his four horses down the slope,
and into the undergrowth. "Allons, mes enfants! Courage! vite, vite!"
cries their driver, and nobly do the pintos respond. Regardless of
bushes and brush heaps, they tear their way through; but as they
emerge, the hind bob-sleigh catches a root, and, with a crash, the
sleigh is hurled high into the air. Baptiste's cries ring out high and
shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never cease till, with a
plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap lying at the mouth of
the ravine, and are out on the ice on the river, with Baptiste
standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and Sandy nowhere
to be seen.

8. Three hundred yards of the course remain. The bays, perfectly
handled, have gained at the bridge, and in the descent to the ice, and
are leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths. Behind
both comes Baptiste. It is now or never for the pintos. The rattle of
the trailing box, together with the wild yelling of the crowd rushing
down the bank, excites the bronchos to madness, and, taking the bits
in their teeth, they do their first free running that day. Past the
citizens' team like a whirlwind they dash, clear the intervening
space, and gain the flanks of the bays. Can the bays hold them? Over
them leans their driver, plying for the first time the hissing lash.
Only fifty yards more. The miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving
his lines high in one hand, seizes his tuque with the other, whirls it
above his head and flings it with a fiercer yell than ever at the
bronchos. Like the bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap forward,
and with a splendid rush cross the scratch, winners by their own
length.

      --_By arrangement with the Westminster Co., Limited,
           and Rev. C. W. Gordon (Ralph Connor)_


  PREPARATORY.--Make a black-board sketch of the
  race-course, fixing the position of "the scratch," "the
  Old Fort," "the high bank with the spectators," "the
  bridge," etc.

  In what passages does the excitement reach its greatest
  height? How are the Pitch and Time affected?
  (Introduction, pp. 13 and 22.)

  What is the Stress employed throughout? Where is the
  Stress most marked? Give reasons. (Introduction, pp. 27
  and 28.)

       *       *       *       *       *


MRS. MALAPROP'S VIEWS

From "The Rivals"


The scene is Mrs. Malaprop's lodgings at Bath. Present, Lydia Languish.
Enter Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Anthony Absolute.


_Mrs. Malaprop._--There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate
simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a
fellow not worth a shilling.

_Lydia._--Madam, I thought you once--

_Mrs. Malaprop._--You thought, miss! I don't know any business you
have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the
point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this
fellow; to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.

_Lydia._--Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is
not so easy to forget.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so
easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I
have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never
existed--and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you,
Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.

_Sir Anthony._--Why, sure she won't pretend to remember what she's
ordered not! Ay, this comes of her reading!

_Lydia._--What crime, madam, have I committed to be treated thus?

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the
matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But tell me, will
you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your
friends' choosing?

_Lydia._--Madam, I must tell you plainly that had I no preference for
any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--What business have you, miss, with preference and
aversion. They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know that
as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a
little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before
marriage as if he'd been a blackamoor; and yet, miss, you are sensible
what a wife I made? and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him,
'tis unknown what tears I shed! But suppose we were going to give you
another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?

_Lydia._--Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my
actions would certainly as far belie my words.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Take yourself to your room. You are fit company for
nothing but your own ill-humours.

_Lydia._--Willingly, ma'am--I cannot change for the worse.
  (_Exit_)

_Mrs. Malaprop._--There's a little intricate hussy for you!

_Sir Anthony._--It is not to be wondered at, ma'am: all this is the
natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand
daughters, by heaven I'd as soon have them taught the black art as
their alphabet!

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Nay, nay, Sir Anthony: you are an absolute
misanthropy.

_Sir Anthony._--In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your
niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library! She had a book
in each hand; they were half-bound volumes with marble covers! From
that moment I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress!

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Those are vile places indeed!

_Sir Anthony._--Madam, a circulating library in a town is an evergreen
tree of diabolical knowledge,--it blossoms through the year! And
depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the
leaves will long for the fruit at last.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Fy, fy, Sir Anthony! you surely speak laconically.

_Sir Anthony._--Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation now, what would you
have a woman know?

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a
daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much
learning becomes a young woman: for instance, I would never let her
meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or
paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; neither would it
be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical,
diabolical instruments. But, Sir Anthony, I would send her at nine
years old to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity
and artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in
accounts; and as she grew up I would have her instructed in geometry,
that she might know something of the contagious countries: but above
all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy, that she might
not misspell and mispronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do;
and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is
saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I
don't think there is a superstitious article in it.

_Sir Anthony._--Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no
further with you; though I must confess that you are a truly moderate
and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side
of the question. But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in
debate: you say you have no objection to my proposal?

_Mrs. Malaprop._--None, I assure you. I am under no positive
engagement with Mr. Acres; and as Lydia is so obstinate against him,
perhaps your son may have better success.

_Sir Anthony._--Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He
knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the
proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope
no objection on his side.

_Sir Anthony._--Objection! let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs.
Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a frenzy
directly. My process was always very simple: in their younger days,
'twas "Jack, do this"; if he demurred I knocked him down, and if he
grumbled at that I always sent him out of the room.

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Ay, and the properest way, o'my conscience! Nothing
is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I
shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your
son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as
an object not altogether illegible.

_Sir Anthony._--Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. Well I
must leave you; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this
matter roundly to the girl. Take my advice--keep a tight hand: if she
rejects this proposal, clap her under lock and key; and if you were
just to let the servants forget to bring her dinner for three or four
days, you can't conceive how she'd come about. (Exit)

_Mrs. Malaprop._--Well, at any rate I shall be glad to get her from
under my intuition. She has somehow discovered my partiality for Sir
Lucius O'Trigger: sure Lucy can't have betrayed me! No, the girl is
such a simpleton, I should have made her confess it. (Calls) Lucy!
Lucy!--Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should never have
trusted her.

    --_Richard Brinsley Sheridan_


  What is the difference between Mrs. Malaprop's mental
  attitude toward Lydia and toward Sir Anthony? How is
  this difference indicated in the Stress of voice?
  (Introduction, pp. 27 and 28.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS


  King Francis was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,
  And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court;
  The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side,
  And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make
    his bride;
  And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,           5
  Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

  Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
  They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with
    their paws;
  With wallowing might and stifled roar, they roll'd one on another,
  Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother;  10
  The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;
  Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!"

  De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame,
  With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd
    the same:
  She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be;     15
  He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me!
  King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wond'rous fine;
  I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!"

  She dropp'd her glove to prove his love: then looked on him
    and smiled;
  He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild:              20
  The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regain'd his place;
  Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face!
  "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where
    he sat:
  "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"

      --_Leigh Hunt_


  PREPARATORY.--Divide the poem into four scenes, and
  describe each scene.

  What are the difficulties of Articulation in ll. 2, 9,
  10, and 14.

  What attitude of mind is indicated by the King's first
  speech? By his second speech? What difference in Stress?
  (Introduction, pp. 27-29.) What is the Force in each
  case? (Introduction, p. 25.)

  15, 16, and 17. Use these lines as an illustration to
  show that Visualization is necessary in order to secure
  good vocal expression.

  In what Time do you read the lady's thoughts!
  (Introduction, p. 13.)

  Give examples from stanzas ii, and iv, where the
  sympathy with the picture may be sufficiently strong to
  lead to imitation of movements or sounds. (Introduction,
  pp. 5 and 6.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE FICKLENESS OF A ROMAN MOB

From "Julius Cæsar" Act I. Scene i.

_Enter_ FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, _and certain Commoners over the Stage._


_Flav._ Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home.
Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day without the sign
Of your profession?--Speak, what trade art thou?                       5

_1 Cit._ Why, sir, a carpenter.

_Mar._ Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?--
You, sir, what trade are you?

_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am               10
but, as you would say, a cobbler.

_Mar._ But what trade are thou? Answer me directly.

_2 Cit._ A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe
conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

_Mar._ What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave,                    15
what trade?

_2 Cit._ Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me;
yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

_Mar._ What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

_2 Cit._ Why, sir, cobble you.                                        20

_Flav._ Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl.
I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's
matters, but with all. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to
old shoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover                  25
them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather
have gone upon my handiwork.

_Flav._ But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get                  30
myself into more work.  But, indeed, sir, we make
holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

_Mar._ Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?                         35
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,                          40
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The livelong day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,                                 45
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?                                    50
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone!
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague                               55
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

_Flav._ Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream                              60
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

[_Exeunt all the Commoners_]

See, whe'r their basest metal be not moved!
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I. Disrobe the images,                                  65
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

_Mar._ May we do so?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

_Flav._ It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about,                            70
And drive away the vulgar from the streets;
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,
Who else would soar above the view of men,                            75
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[_Exeunt]_

      --_Shakespeare_


  In what Stress do Flavius and Marullus speak when
  questioning the citizens? Why?

  What Stress does the first citizen use?

  How does the mental attitude of the second citizen
  influence his Stress and Inflection? (Introduction, pp.
  21, 22, and 30.) Where does he change his Stress? For
  what reason?

  WHEREFORE REJOICE? Point out the various examples of
  Climax in this speech, and show how the voice indicates
  them. (Introduction, p. 31.)

  Account for the Inflection on the various questions.
  (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)

  SEE WHE'R THEIR BASEST METAL, ETC. Note the change in
  tension and energy. What change in Pitch and Force is
  the natural result? (Introduction, pp. 25 and 26.)

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR PETER AND LADY TEAZLE

From "The School for Scandal"


_Sir Peter._--Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

_Lady Teazle._--Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you
please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's
more, I will, too. What though I was educated in the country, I know
very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody
after they are married.

_Sir Peter._--Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no
influence, no authority?

_Lady Teazle._--Authority! No, to be sure: if you wanted authority
over me, you should have adopted me and not married me: I am sure you
were old enough.

_Sir Peter._--Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle,
though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined
by your extravagance!

_Lady Teazle._--My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant
than a woman of fashion ought to be.

_Sir Peter._--No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such
unmeaning luxury. To spend as much to furnish your dressing room with
flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a
greenhouse, and give a fête champêtre at Christmas!

_Lady Teazle._--And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear
in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with
me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round,
and that roses grew under our feet!

_Sir Peter._--Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't
wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was
when I married you.

_Lady Teazle._--No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I
should never have married you.

_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler
style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle,
when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured
linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth
over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of
your own working.

_Lady Teazle._--Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I
led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the
poultry, make extracts from the family receipt book, and comb my aunt
Deborah's lap-dog.

_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.

_Lady Teazle._--And then, you know, my evening amusements! To draw
patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play
Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck
down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox chase.

_Sir Peter._--I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these
were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your
coach--_vis-à-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and,
in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.
No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double,
behind the butler, on a docked coach horse.

_Lady Teazle._--No--I swear I never did that: I deny the butler and
the coach horse.

_Sir Peter._--This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done
for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank,--in
short, I have made you my wife.

_Lady Teazle._--Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can
make me to add to the obligation, that is--

_Sir Peter._--My widow, I suppose?

_Lady Teazle._--Hem! hem!

_Sir Peter._--I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself, for,
though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never
break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you
for the hint.

_Lady Teazle._--Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so
disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense.

_Sir Peter._--Oons! madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant
expenses when you married me?

_Lady Teazle._--Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the
fashion?

_Sir Peter._--The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion
before you married me?

_Lady Teazle._--For my part, I should think you would like to have
your wife thought a woman of taste.

_Sir Peter._--Ay--there again--taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste
when you married me!

_Lady Teazle._--That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and, after
having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow.
But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume
I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.

_Sir Peter._--Ay, there's another precious circumstance--a charming
set of acquaintance you have made there.

_Lady Teazle._--Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and
fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

_Sir Peter._--Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance;
for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves!
Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less
mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and
clippers of reputation.

_Lady Teazle._--What! would you restrain the freedom of speech?

_Sir Peter._--Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the
society.

_Lady Teazle._--Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable
grace.

_Sir Peter._--Grace indeed!

_Lady Teazle._--But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse:
when I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humour: and I
take it for granted they deal exactly the same with me. But, Sir
Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.

_Sir Peter._--Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my own
character.

_Lady Teazle._--Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or you'll
be too late. So good-bye to ye. (_Exit_)

_Sir Peter._--So--I have gained much by my intended expostulation!
Yet with what a charming air she contradicts everything I say, and how
pleasantly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I
can't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling
with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she
is doing everything in her power to plague me. _(Exit_)

      --_Richard Brinsley Sheridan_


  Select the passages where Lady Teazle tries to enforce
  her opinion by (a) strong assertion, (b) peevishness and
  whining.

  In what passages does her desire to taunt and ridicule
  Sir Peter predominate?

  In what passages does she address Sir Peter in the tone
  of ordinary conversation?

  What Stress is used in each case? (Introduction, pp.
  28-30.)

  HAD YOU ANY OF THESE LITTLE ELEGANT EXPENSES? What
  Stress is placed on the last four words?

       *       *       *       *       *


THE PARTING OF MARMION AND DOUGLAS

From "Marmion"


  Not far advanced was morning day,
  When Marmion did his troop array
      To Surrey's camp to ride;
  He had safe-conduct for his band,
  Beneath the royal seal and hand,                                     5
      And Douglas gave a guide.

  The ancient Earl, with stately grace,
  Would Clara on her palfrey place,
  And whispered in an undertone,
  "Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown."                            10
  The train from out the castle drew,
  But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:
  "Though something I might plain," he said,
  "Of cold respect to stranger guest,
  Sent hither by your King's behest,                                  15
      While in Tantallon's towers I stayed;
  Part we in friendship from your land,
  And, noble earl, receive my hand."

  But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
  Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:                                 20
  "My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still
  Be open, at my Sovereign's will,
  To each one whom he lists, howe'er
  Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
  My castles are my King's alone,                                     25
  From turret to foundation-stone:
  The hand of Douglas is his own;
  And never shall, in friendly grasp,
  The hand of such as Marmion clasp."

  Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,                           30
  And shook his very frame for ire;
      And--"This to me," he said,
  "An't were not for thy hoary beard,
  Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
      To cleave the Douglas' head!                                    35
  And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
  He who does England's message here,
  Although the meanest in her state,
  May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
  And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,                                40
      Even in thy pitch of pride
  Here in thy hold, thy vassals near
  (Nay, never look upon your lord,
  And lay your hands upon your sword,)
      I tell thee, thou'rt defied!                                    45
  And if thou saidst, I am not peer
  To any lord in Scotland here,
  Lowland or Highland, far or near,
      Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"

  On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage                               50
  O'ercame the ashen hue of age:
  Fierce he broke forth: "And darest thou, then,
  To beard the lion in his den,
      The Douglas in his hall?
  And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?--                            55
  No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!--
  Up drawbridge, grooms!--what, Warder, ho!
      Let the portcullis fall."

  Lord Marmion turned,--well was his need,--
  And dashed the rowels in his steed,                                 60
  Like arrow through the archway sprung,
  The ponderous grate behind him rung:
  To pass there was such scanty room,
  The bars, descending, grazed his plume.

  The steed along the drawbridge flies,                               65
  Just as it trembles on the rise;
  Nor lighter does the swallow skim
  Along the smooth lake's level brim:
  And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
  He halts, and turns with clenched hand,                             70
  And shout of loud defiance pours,
  And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

  "Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!"
  But soon he reined his fury's pace:
  "A royal messenger he came,                                         75
  Though most unworthy of the name.
  A letter forged! Saint Jude to speed!
  Did ever knight so foul a deed!
  At first, in heart, it liked me ill,
  When the King praised his clerkly skill.                            80
  Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine,
  Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line.
  Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
  Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood;
  I thought to slay him where he stood.                               85
  'Tis pity of him, too," he cried:
  "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride:
  I warrant him a warrior tried."--
  With this his mandate he recalls,
  And slowly seeks his castle halls.                                  90

      --_Sir Walter Scott_


  In what Quality of voice should the following passages
  of this poem be read: (_a_) the descriptive parts; (_b_)
  l. 10; (_c_) the first speeches of Marmion and Douglas,
  ll. 14-18, and ll. 21-29; (_d_) the second speeches of
  Marmion and Douglas, ll. 32-49, and ll. 52-56; (_e_) ll.
  57-58, and ll. 75-88?

       *       *       *       *       *


COLUMBUS


  Behind him lay the gray Azores.
    Behind him the gates of Hercules;
  Before him not the ghost of shores,
    Before him only shoreless seas.
  The good mate said: "Now we must pray,                               5
    For, lo! the very stars are gone.
  Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?"
    "Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"

  "My men grow mutinous day by day;
    My men grow ghastly wan and weak."                                10
  The stout mate thought of home; a spray
    Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
  "What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say,
    If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
  "Why, you shall say, at break of day:                               15
    'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"

  They sailed and sailed as winds might blow,
    Until at last the blanched mate said:
  "Why, now not even God would know
    Should I and all my men fall dead.                                20
  These very winds forget the way,
    For God from these dread seas is gone.
  Now speak, brave Adm'r'l, speak and say--"
    He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"

  They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:                      25
    "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night;
  He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
    With lifted teeth as if to bite:
  Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word;
    What shall we do when hope is gone?"                              30
  The words leapt as a leaping sword:
    "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"

  Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck
  And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
  Of all dark nights! And then, a speck--                             35
  A light! a light! a light! a light!
  It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
  It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
  He gained a world; he gave that world
  Its greatest lesson; "On! sail on!"                                 40

    --_Joaquin Miller_

    --_By permission of the publishers, Whitaker & Ray-Wiggin Co._


  WHAT, SHALL, WHY. (Appendix A, 7 and 8.)

  Give examples of words or phrases which when repeated
  become (1) unemphatic, (2) more emphatic, (3) equivalent
  to a climax. (Introduction, pp. 31 and 32.)

  Compare the mate's attitude of mind with that of the
  Admiral. How is the difference indicated by the Stress?

       *       *       *       *       *


FROM THE "APOLOGY" OF SOCRATES

From "The Dialogues of Plato"


1. Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil
name which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say
that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even
although I am not wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had
waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the
course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive,
and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who
have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them:
You think that I was convicted through deficiency of words--I mean,
that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I
might have gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to
my conviction was not of words--certainly not. But I had not the
boldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you would have
liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying
and doing many things which you have been accustomed to hear from
others, and which, as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I
ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour of danger; nor do
I now repent of the manner of my defence, and I would rather die
having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For
neither in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of
escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt that if a man
will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers,
he may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of
escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do anything. The
difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding
unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move
slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are
keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has
overtaken them. And now I depart hence, condemned by you to suffer the
penalty of death, and they too go their ways, condemned by the truth
to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my
reward--let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be
regarded as fated,--and I think that they are well.

2. And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you;
for I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted
with prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers,
that immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have
inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you
wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your
lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say
that there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers
whom hitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be
more severe with you, and you will be more offended at them. For if
you think that by killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your
lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either
possible or honourable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be
crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy
which I utter before my departure to the judges who have condemned me.

3. Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk
with you about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates
are busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then
a while, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time.
You are my friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this
event which has happened to me. O my judges--for you I may truly call
judges--I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance.
Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the
habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip
or error about anything; and now, as you see, there has come upon me
that which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last
and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I
was leaving my house and going out in the morning, or when I was going
up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything which I was
going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in the middle of a
speech, but now in nothing I either said or did touching this matter
has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explanation of
this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof that what has happened
to me is a good, and that those of us who think that death is an evil
are in error. This is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the
customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been going to evil
and not to good.

4. Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is a
great reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things:
either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or,
as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this
world to another. Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness,
but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight
of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to
select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams,
and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life,
and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the
course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think
that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king
will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others.
Now if death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is
then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another
place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what good, O my
friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the
pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the
professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who
are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus,
and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own
life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give
if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer?
Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a
wonderful interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and
Ajax the son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered
death through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure,
as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I
shall be able to continue my search into true and false knowledge; as
in this world, so also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who
pretends to be wise and is not. What would not a man give, O judges,
to be able to examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or
Odysseus, or Sisyphus, or numberless others, men and women too! What
infinite delight would there be in conversing with them and asking
them questions! For in that world they do not put a man to death for
this; certainly not. For besides being happier in that world than in
this, they will be immortal, if what is said is true.

5. Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of
a truth--that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or
after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own
approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die
and be released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no
sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers or my
condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant
to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.

6. Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I
would ask you, O my friends, to punish them and I would have you
trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about
riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be
something when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have
reproved you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care,
and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And
if you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your
hands.

7. The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die,
and you to live. Which is better God only knows.

      --_Benjamin Jowett_


  Illustrate from this extract the general principle that
  incompleteness is expressed by means of the Rising, and
  completeness by means of the Falling Inflection.

  Par. 1. FOR NEITHER IN WAR NOR YET AT LAW ... DEATH.
  Explain the Inflection placed on this negative
  statement. Give a similar example from Par. 2.

  I MUST ABIDE BY MY AWARD ... LET THEM ABIDE BY THEIRS.
  Explain the opposite Inflections on antithetical words
  and phrases. If one part of the antithesis is a
  negation, what is the Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 19
  and 20.) Give examples from Par. 2.

  I AM OLD AND MOVE SLOWLY ... WRONG. Explain the Emphasis
  in these sentences. Which one of a pair of contrasted
  words is necessarily emphatic? Give examples from this
  and the following paragraph, in which both are emphatic,
  and explain why. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.)

  Par. 4. Explain the Inflection on the questions.
  (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)

  What clauses in this paragraph are really parenthetical
  in force? How does the voice subordinate them? Give
  similar examples from other paragraphs. (Introduction,
  pp. 24 and 25.)

       *       *       *       *       *


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY

From "The Lady of the Lake"


  The shades of eve come slowly down,
  The woods are wrapt in deeper brown,
  The owl awakens from her dell,
  The fox is heard upon the fell;
  Enough remains of glimmering light                                   5
  To guide the wanderer's steps aright,
  Yet not enough from far to show
  His figure to the watchful foe.
  With cautious step, and ear awake,
  He climbs the crag and threads the brake;                           10
  And not the summer solstice there,
  Tempered the midnight mountain air,
  But every breeze that swept the wold,
  Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold.
  In dread, in danger, and alone,                                     15
  Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,
  Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;
  Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,
  A watch-fire close before him burned.

  Beside its embers red and clear,                                    20
  Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer;
  And up he sprung with sword in hand,--
  "Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"--
  "A stranger."--"What dost thou require?"--
  "Rest and a guide, and food and fire.                               25
  My life's beset, my path is lost.
  The gale has chilled my limbs with frost."--
  "Art thou a friend to Roderick?"--"No."--
  "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"--
  "I dare! to him and all the band                                    30
  He brings to aid his murderous hand."--
  "Bold words!--but, though the beast of game
  The privilege of chase may claim,
  Though space and law the stag we lend,
  Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,                                  35
  Who ever recked, where, how, or when,
  The prowling fox was trapped or slain?
  Thus, treacherous scouts,--yet sure they lie,
  Who say thou camest a secret spy!"--
  "They do, by Heaven!--Come Roderick Dhu,                            40
  And of his clan the boldest two,
  And let me but till morning rest,
  I write the falsehood on their crest."--
  "If by the blaze I mark aright,
  Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight."--                        45
  "Then, by these tokens mayest thou know,
  Each proud oppressor's mortal foe."--
  "Enough, enough; sit down and share
  A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare."--

  He gave him of his Highland cheer,                                  50
  The hardened flesh of mountain deer;
  Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
  And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
  He tended him like welcome guest,
  Then thus his further speech addressed:--                           55
  "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
  A clansman born, a kinsman true;
  Each word against his honour spoke,
  Demands of me avenging stroke;
  Yet more,--upon thy fate, 'tis said,                                60
  A mighty augury is laid.
  It rests with me to wind my horn,
  Thou art with numbers overborne;
  It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
  Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand:                                65
  But not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
  Will I depart from honour's laws;
  To assail a wearied man were shame,
  And stranger is a holy name;
  Guidance and rest, and food and fire,                               70
  In vain he never must require.
  Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
  Myself will guide thee on the way,
  O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward.
  Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,                              75
  As far as Coilantogle's ford;
  From thence thy warrant is thy sword."--
  "I take thy courtesy, by Heaven,
  As freely as 'tis nobly given!"--
  "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry                             80
  Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
  With that he shook the gathered heath,
  And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
  And the brave foemen, side by side,
  Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried,                             85
  And slept until the dawning beam
  Purpled the mountain and the stream.

      --_Sir Walter Scott_


  PREPARATORY.--Connect this scene with the rest of the
  poem.

  Give a dramatic form to this extract, describing
  definitely the scenery and stage-setting. One reader may
  render the descriptive parts, another the speeches of
  Roderick Dhu, and a third those of Fitz-James.

  WANDERER'S STEPS, CAUTIOUS STEP, TRECHEROUS SCOUTS,
  BOLDEST TWO. (Appendix A, 6.)

  25 and 70. (Appendix A, 5.) 1-4. Note the word-pictures.
  How do they affect the Pause? (Introduction, pp. 7 and
  8.)

  7. NOT ENOUGH. With what is it contrasted? Which word is
  emphatic? Where do the Pauses occur in this line?

  9. What is the atmosphere of this line? What is the
  Quality of voice? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  10-11. What Inflection? Why? What is the Shading when
  compared with the two following lines? (Introduction, p.
  24.)

  16-17. Give an example of Grouping.

  18-19. Compare the Shading of these two lines.

  22. What feeling and movement are here expressed? How
  does the voice give expression to them? (Introduction,
  pp. 5, 6, and 27.)

  Describe the mental attitude of each of the speakers.
  What is the Stress in each case? (Introduction, pp.
  27-29.)

  38. THE PROWLING FOX ... SCOUTS. What is the mental
  attitude here? What Stress is the result? (Introduction,
  p. 28.) How does the rest of the speech differ from the
  preceding? What is the Inflection? (Introduction, p.
  18.)

  What is the Stress of ordinary conversation? Illustrate
  from the above selection.

  32-39. BOLD WORDS ... SPY. (Introduction, p. 24.)

  48. Why should SIT DOWN be kept distinct from SHARE? How
  is this effected?

  60. 'TIS SAID. How does the voice subordinate this
  phrase? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  66-69. Which are the emphatic words and why are they
  emphatic?

  77. What feeling is introduced here? How does the voice
  express it?

       *       *       *       *       *


THE OUTLAW

From "Rokeby"


  O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
    And Greta woods are green,
  And you may gather garlands there,
    Would grace a summer queen.

  And as I rode by Dalton-Hall,                                        5
    Beneath the turrets high,
  A Maiden on the castle wall
    Was singing merrily,--

  "O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
    And Greta woods are green;                                        10
  I'd rather rove with Edmund there
    Than reign our English queen."--

  "If, Maiden, thou would'st wend with me,
    To leave both tower and town,
  Thou first must guess what life lead we                             15
    That dwell by dale and down.
  And if thou canst that riddle read,
    As read full well you may,
  Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed
    As blithe as Queen of May."--                                     20

  Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair,
    And Greta woods are green;
  I'd rather rove with Edmund there.
    Than reign our English queen.

  "I read you by your bugle-horn,                                     25
    And by your palfrey good,
  I read you for a Ranger sworn,
    To keep the king's greenwood."--
  "A Ranger, lady, winds his horn,
   And 'tis at peep of light;                                         30
  His blast is heard at merry morn,
    And mine at dead of night."--

  Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair,
    And Greta woods are gay;
  I would I were with Edmund there,                                   35
    To reign his Queen of May!

  "With burnish'd brand and musketoon,
    So gallantly you come,
  I read you for a bold Dragoon,
    That lists the tuck of drum."--                                   40
  "I list no more the tuck of drum,
    No more the trumpet hear;
  But when the beetle sounds his hum
    My comrades take the spear.

  "And O! though Brignall banks be fair                               45
    And Greta woods be gay,
  Yet mickle must the maiden dare
    Would reign my Queen of May!

  "Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
    A nameless death I'll die!                                        50
  The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
    Were better mate than I!
  And when I'm with my comrades met
    Beneath the greenwood bough,
  What once we were we all forget,                                    55
    Nor think what we are now.

  "Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
    And Greta woods are green,
  And you may gather garlands there
    Would grace a summer queen."                                      60

      --_Sir Walter Scott_


  PREPARATORY.--"The Life of an Outlaw." Speak on this
  subject, illustrating from such characters as Rob Roy,
  Robin Hood, etc., and emphasizing the pathos of such a
  life.

  For dramatic rendering see preparatory notes on
  _Highland Hospitality_.

  1-4. What Stress indicates the state of mind reflected
  by these lines? (Introduction, p. 29.)

  3, 11. What Inflection is placed on THERE?
  (Introduction, p. 16.)

  12. What word may be supplied after REIGN? How is this
  indicated in the reading? (Introduction, p. 10.)

  13-20. Read these lines with a view to Perspective.
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

  Give examples of Grouping throughout the poem and show
  how the Pause is affected. (Introduction, p. 11.)

  What words in stanza iii are emphatic through contrast?
  In stanza v?

  What feeling in the last half of stanza v?
  (Introduction, pp. 10-12.) In what Time, Pitch, and
  Force are these lines read? Give your reasons.

       *       *       *       *       *


OF STUDIES

From the "Essays"


Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief
use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in
discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of
business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of
particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots, and
marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned.

To spend too much time in studies, is sloth; to use them too much for
ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is
the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature and are perfected by
experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need
pruning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too
much at large, except they be bounded in by experience.

Crafty men contemn studies; simple men admire them; and wise men use
them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without
them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and
confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and
discourse; but to weigh and consider.

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to
be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in
parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read
wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read
by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only
in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else
distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things.

Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an
exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a
good memory, if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and
if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that
he doth not.

If a man's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in
demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must
begin again; if his wits be not apt to distinguish or find
differences, let him study the schoolmen; if he be not apt to beat
over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate
another, let him study the lawyers' cases. So every defect of the mind
may have a special receipt.

      --_Lord Bacon_


  Preparatory.--Observe the sentence structure employed
  throughout this extract, and make a list of the
  antithetical words and phrases.

  This lesson may be used as an exercise to illustrate the
  principle of Inflection as applied to antithetical words
  or phrases and to series of words or phrases parallel in
  construction. (Introduction, p. 20.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE INFLUENCE OF ATHENS

From essay "On Mitford's History of Greece"


If we consider merely the subtlety of disquisition, the force of
imagination, the perfect energy and elegance of expression, which
characterize the great works of Athenian genius, we must pronounce
them intrinsically most valuable. But what shall we say when we
reflect that from hence have sprung, directly or indirectly, all the
noblest creations of the human intellect; that from hence were the
vast accomplishments and the brilliant fancy of Cicero, the withering
fire of Juvenal, the plastic imagination of Dante, the humour of
Cervantes, the comprehension of Bacon, the wit of Butler, the supreme
and universal excellence of Shakespeare?

All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice and power, in
every country and in every age, have been the triumphs of Athens.
Wherever a few great minds have made a stand against violence and
fraud, in the cause of liberty and reason, there has been her spirit
in the midst of them; inspiring, encouraging, consoling;--by the
lonely lamp of Erasmus, by the restless bed of Pascal, in the tribune
of Mirabeau, in the cell of Galileo, on the scaffold of Sidney.

But who shall estimate her influence on private happiness? Who shall
say how many thousands have been made wiser, happier, and better, by
those pursuits in which she has taught mankind to engage; to how many
the studies which took their rise from her have been wealth in
poverty, liberty in bondage, health in sickness, society in solitude?

Her power is, indeed, manifested at the bar, in the senate, in the
field of battle, in the schools of philosophy. But these are not her
glory. Wherever literature consoles sorrow, or assuages pain; wherever
it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears, and
ache for the dark house and the long sleep,--there is exhibited, in
its noblest form, the immortal influence of Athens.

The dervish, in the Arabian tale, did not hesitate to abandon to his
comrade the camels with their loads of jewels and gold, while he
retained the casket of that mysterious juice which enabled him to
behold at one glance all the hidden riches of the universe. Surely it
is no exaggeration to say that no external advantage is to be compared
with that purification of the intellectual eye which gives us to
contemplate the infinite wealth of the mental world, all the hoarded
treasures of its primeval dynasties, all the shapeless ore of its yet
unexplored mines. This is the gift of Athens to man.

Her freedom and her power have, for more than twenty centuries, been
annihilated; her people have degenerated into timid slaves; her
language, into a barbarous jargon; her temples have been given up to
the successive depredations of Romans, Turks, and Scotchmen; but her
intellectual empire is imperishable.

And when those who have rivalled her greatness shall have shared her
fate; when civilization and knowledge shall have fixed their abode in
distant continents; when the sceptre shall have passed away from
England; when, perhaps, travellers from distant regions shall in vain
labour to decipher on some mouldering pedestal the name of our
proudest chief, shall hear savage hymns chaunted to some misshapen
idol over the ruined dome of our proudest temple, and shall see a
single naked fisherman wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand
masts,--her influence and her glory will still survive,--fresh in
eternal youth, exempt from mutability and decay, immortal as the
intellectual principle from which they derived their origin, and over
which they exercise their control.

      --_Macaulay_


  Illustrate from this lesson the principle of Inflection
  as applied to (1) a series of words parallel in
  construction; (2) rhetorical questions.

  How should the principal clause in the last paragraph be
  made prominent by the voice? (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


NATIONAL MORALITY


1. I believe there is no permanent greatness to a nation except it be
based upon morality. I do not care for military greatness or military
renown. I care for the condition of the people among whom I live.
There is no man in England who is less likely to speak irreverently of
the Crown and Monarchy of England than I am; but crowns, coronets,
mitres, military display, the pomp of war, wide colonies, and a huge
empire, are, in my view, all trifles light as air, and not worth
considering, unless with them you can have a fair share of comfort,
contentment, and happiness, among the great body of the people.
Palaces, baronial castles, great halls, stately mansions, do not make
a nation. The nation in every country dwells in the cottage; and
unless the light of your Constitution can shine there, unless the
beauty of your legislation and the excellence of your statesmanship
are impressed there on the feelings and condition of the people, rely
upon it, you have yet to learn the duties of government.

2. I have not pleaded, as you have observed, that this country should
remain without adequate and scientific means of defence. I acknowledge
it to be the duty of your statesmen, acting upon the known opinions
and principles of ninety-nine out of every one hundred persons in the
country, at all times, with all possible moderation, but with all
possible efficiency, to take steps which shall preserve order within
and on the confines of your kingdom. But I shall repudiate and
denounce the expenditure of every shilling, the engagement of every
man, the employment of every ship which has no object but
intermeddling in the affairs of other countries and endeavouring to
extend the boundaries of an Empire which is already large enough to
satisfy the greatest ambition, and I fear is much too large for the
highest statesmanship to which any man has yet attained.

3. The most ancient of profane historians has told us that the
Scythians of his time were a very warlike people, and that they
elevated an old scimitar upon a platform as a symbol of Mars, for to
Mars alone, I believe, they built altars and offered sacrifices. To
this scimitar they offered sacrifices of horses and cattle, the main
wealth of the country, and more costly sacrifices than to all the rest
of their gods. I often ask myself whether we are at all advanced in
one respect beyond those Scythians. What are our contributions to
charity, to education, to morality, to religion, to justice, and to
civil government, when compared with the wealth we expend in
sacrifices to the old scimitar?

4. Two nights ago I addressed in this hall a vast assembly composed to
a great extent of your countrymen, who have no political power, who
are at work from the dawn of the day to the evening, and who have
therefore limited means of informing themselves on these great
subjects. Now I am privileged to speak to a somewhat different
audience. You represent those of your great community who have a more
complete education, who have on some points greater intelligence, and
in whose hands reside the power and influence of the district. I am
speaking, too, within the hearing of those whose gentle nature, whose
finer instincts, whose purer minds, have not suffered as some of us
have suffered in the turmoil and strife of life. You can mould
opinion, you can create political power,--you cannot think a good
thought on this subject and communicate it to your neighbours,--you
cannot make these points topics of discussion in your social circles
and more general meetings, without affecting sensibly and speedily the
course which the government of your country will pursue. May I ask
you, then, to believe, as I do most devoutly believe, that the moral
law was not written for men alone in their individual character, but
that it was written as well for nations, and for nations great as this
of which we are citizens. If nations reject and deride that moral law,
there is a penalty which will inevitably follow. It may not come at
once, it may not come in our lifetime; but, rely upon it, the great
Italian is not a poet only, but a prophet, when he says:

  The sword of heaven is not in haste to smite,
  Nor yet doth linger.

5. We have experience, we have beacons, we have landmarks enough. We
know what the past has cost us, we know how much and how far we have
wandered, but we are not left without a guide. It is true, we have
not, as an ancient people had, Urim and Thummin--those oraculous gems
in Aaron's breast--from which to take counsel, but we have the
unchangeable and eternal principles of the moral law to guide us, and
only so far as we walk by that guidance can we be permanently a great
nation, or our people a happy people.

      --_The Right Honourable John Bright_


  BARONIAL, CASTLES, CHARACTER, PAST. (Appendix A, 1.)

  Par. 1. MILITARY GREATNESS, MILITARY RENOWN. Note the
  transferred Emphasis. (Introduction, pp. 31 and 32.)

  CROWNS, CORONETS, ETC. Explain the Inflection on each
  member of this series. Give similar examples from this
  paragraph and from Pars. 3, 4, and 5.

  UNLESS WITH THEM, ETC. How does the voice prepare the
  listener for this clause? Give a similar example from
  Par. 4.

  YOU HAVE YET TO LEARN, ETC. How is this clause made
  prominent?

  Par. 2. Give an analysis of the second sentence from the
  standpoint of Perspective.

  THE EXPENDITURE ... SHIP. How is the Climax brought out?

  FOR THE HIGHTEST ... ATTAINED. Note the Grouping. Give
  another example from this sentence.

  Par. 4. NATIONS. What Inflection on this word? With what
  is it contrasted?

       *       *       *       *       *


HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS

Act III. Scene 2


Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as
many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier
spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with
your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very                   5
torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of
passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that
may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to
hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings,          10
who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but
inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would have such
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods
Herod: pray you, avoid it.

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion                  15
be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to
the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep
not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone
is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror             20
up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her
own image, and the very age and body of the time his
form and pressure. Now, this overdone or come tardy
off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make
the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one                    25
must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of
others. O, there be players that I have seen play, and
heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it
profanely, that neither having the accent of Christains
nor the gait of Christain, pagan, nor man, have so                    30
strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of
nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them
well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

      --_Shakespeare_


  MOUTH, TOWN-CRIER, TAME, JOURNEYMEN. Why are these words
  emphatic? (Introduction, p. 30.)

  Explain FROM THE PURPOSE OF PLAYING, COME TARDY OFF, THE
  CENSURE OF THE WHICH ... OTHERS. What are the emphatic
  words in each?

  TORRENT, TEMPEST, WHIRLWIND. Observe the Climax.

  Give other examples of Climax from this selection and
  show how the Emphasis is employed. (Introduction, p.
  31.)

  Select parenthetical clauses and show how they are
  subordinated. (Introduction, p. 24.)

  Read the last two sentences with a view to Perspective.
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


ROSABELLE

  From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"


    O listen, listen, ladies gay!
      No haughty feat of arms I tell;
    Soft is the note, and sad the lay
      That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

  "Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!
    And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!
  Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
    Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.

  "The blackening wave is edged with white;
    To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
  The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
    Whose screams forebode that wreck is =nigh=.

  "Last night the gifted Seer did view
    A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
  Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;
    Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?"--

  "'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
    To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
  But that my ladye-mother there
    Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

  "'Tis not because the ring they ride,
    And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
  But that my sire the wine will chide
    If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle."--

  O'er Roslin all that dreary night
    A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
  'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light,
    And redder than the bright moonbeam.

  It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
    It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
  'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
    And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.

  Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,
    Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,
  Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
    Sheathed in his iron panoply.

  Seem'd all on fire within, around,
    Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
  Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
    And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.

  Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
    Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair--
  So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
    The lordly line of high Saint Clair.

  There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
    Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
  Each one the holy vault doth hold--
    But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!

  And each Saint Clair was buried there
    With candle, with book, and with knell;
  But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung
    The dirge of lovely Rosabelle!

      --_Sir Walter Scott_


  PREPARATORY.--Describe the scene suggested by the first
  stanza.

  Make three scenes of the rest of the poem, and give a
  descriptive title to each.

  Articulation. (Appendix A, 1, 3, and 6.)

  Stanza i. How is the ellipsis in l. 3 indicated?

  Stanza ii. What is the difference between the way the
  speaker addresses the crew and that in which he
  addresses the lady?

  Stanzas iii-iv. How does the reader make prominent the
  four different arguments of the speaker in ll. 9-15, at
  the same time showing that each is a stronger warning
  than the last? (Introduction, pp. 24, 25, and 31.)

  Stanzas v-vi. What is the Inflection on the negative
  statements in the first two lines of each stanza?

  Stanzas vii-xi. What feeling pervades the description of
  the ominous light over Roslyn? What Quality of voice is
  the natural outcome? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  What are the central ideas in stanzas vii, ix, and x?

  How is the break in the thought after FAIR, (stanza xi)
  shown? (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

  Stanzas xii-xiii. What phrases contrast the burial of
  the Saint Clairs with that of Rosabelle? What contrast
  of feeling?

       *       *       *       *       *


THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS

December, 1697


  The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
  "Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
  For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
  The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
  God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win;              5
  Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?"
  "The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
  Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
  See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam;
  They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe have
    cross'd the stream!                                               10
  Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints! I trow
  There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"

  So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van,
  Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
  Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15
  And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
  Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword,
  And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
  "I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
  I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare.       20
  If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
  There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too."

  The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
  "Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
  Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know,        25
  That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow,
  And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
  If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
  The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
  And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,--        30
  Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"

  Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
  But he turn'd him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they!
  The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
  No one of all that company but bore a gentle name,                  35
  Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
  All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and fell,
  And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well;
  And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
  As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn;      40
  And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side.
  To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died;
  And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
  Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
  Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men,     45
  Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.

  "The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is
    the foe,--
  Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
  From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
  And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside.         50
  No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
  The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
  But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
  As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
  Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls again, 55
  And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart
    and vein.
  Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
  Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.

  Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
  Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand!            60
  Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring;
  Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!'
  Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?
  The soul of Græme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in?"

  No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each
    other's hand,                                                     65
  Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
  High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
  Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot,
    and cannon-roar,--
  "Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
  Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!"                70
  Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd
    the flame:
  The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
  Yet onward push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
  With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid
  Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong
    the torrent swept,                                                75
  That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
  Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
  "The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach
    the shore!
  See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
  Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them
   in the Rhine!"                                                     80

  Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding
    shrill,
  And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill?
  How they toss their mighty branches struggling with
    the tempest's shock;
  How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
  Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river;     85
  Though the water flashed around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
  Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
  For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
    of old.
  One word was spoken among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
  "Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said.          90
  Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
  Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd toward the isle.

  The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
  The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng.
  But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before,         95
  And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore.
  Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
  That rises o'er the parent springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
  Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came
    the Scottish band
  Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand.    100
  In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!

  O lonely island of the Rhine,--where seed was never sown,
  What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
  What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through
    the rain,
  She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream,
    and plain?                                                       105
  A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
  A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
  And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its
    quivering glare
  To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there.

  And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought
    so well?                                                         110
  And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
  What meed of thanks was given to them let agèd annals tell.
  Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup
    with wine?
  It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
  A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed:       115
  The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed.
  And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
  What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
  What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly swear,

  That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere?          120
  They bore within their breasts the grief that fame
    can never heal,--
  The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
  Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might
    see again,--
  For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains,
    loch and glen--
  For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea,            125
  Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!

  Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
  Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
  And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
  The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by,           130
  And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
  Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep
    and dangerous ford
  The Passage of the Scot.

      --_William Edmondstoune Aytoun_


  PREPARATORY.--Narrate briefly the events of this poem,
  and show by a blackboard diagram the situation of the
  island, the position of the armies, etc.

  Into how many dramatic scenes can the poem be divided?
  Describe each one, showing what part of the poem it
  covers.

  For exercise in dramatic rendering, see notes on
  _Highland Hospitality_, pp. 153 and 154.

  In what state of mind are the first two speakers?
  Compare their speeches in this respect with the first
  speech of the Scottish Captain--"I'VE SEEN A WILDER,"
  ETC. What is the difference in Time, Pitch, and Stress?

  3. RIVER'S SWEEP, FOE. Which is more emphatic? Compare
  MAN and HORSE, l. 8.

  10-12. Give some examples of Climax in the second stanza
  and show how the Force and the Pitch are affected.

  24. "HATH BOLD DUGUESCLIN'S," ETC. Supply the
  undercurrent of thought between the first line of this
  speech and the second. How is this suggested in reading?
  (Introduction, p. 14.)

  33. HE TURNED HIM TO HIS LITTLE BAND--O FEW, ETC. How
  can the break in the thought be indicated?
  (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

  33-46. O FEW I WEEN ... NOT TURN AGAIN. What two
  feelings predominate?

  Compare the first part of the Captain's speech with the
  second part from the standpoint of energy. What is the
  difference in Force and Pitch? (Introduction, pp. 23 and
  26.)

  65. NO STAY,--NO PAUSE, ETC. What part does spontaneous
  Imitation play here, and in the following stanza?
  (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)

  69. NOW, BY THE HOLY CROSS! ETC. Where should the
  longest Pause be made in this line?

  78. THE CURRENT'S STRONG, ETC. What are the Pitch,
  Force, and Stress? (Introduction, pp. 22, 26, and 29.)

  93. THE GERMAN HEART, ETC. Emphasis. (Introduction, p.
  31.)

  96. AND NEVER HAD THEY FELT, ETC. Note Grouping and
  Pause.

  99. SCARCE SWIFTER, ETC. What is the Stress? Why?
  (Introduction, p. 28.)

  101. IN VAIN. Note the transition at this line.
  (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

  113. WHY SHOULD THEY BRING, ETC. How does the voice
  indicate the insincerity of thought in these lines?
  (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)

  What Inflection is used on the various questions in this
  and the preceding stanzas? (Introduction, pp. 18 and
  19.)

  127-133. Note the Grouping and the Shading.
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


CRANFORD SOCIETY

From "Cranford"


In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the
holders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couple
come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is
either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the
Cranford evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his
regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the
great neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty
miles on a railway. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen,
they are not at Cranford. What could they do if they were there? The
surgeon has his round of thirty miles, and sleeps at Cranford; but
every man cannot be a surgeon. For keeping the trim gardens full of
choice flowers without a weed to speck them; for frightening away
little boys who look wistfully at the said flowers through the
railings; for rushing out at the geese that occasionally venture into
the gardens if the gates are left open; for deciding all questions of
literature and politics without troubling themselves with unnecessary
reasons or arguments; for obtaining clear and correct knowledge of
everybody's affairs in the parish; for keeping their neat maidservants
in admirable order; for kindness (somewhat dictatorial) to the poor,
and real tender good offices to each other whenever they are in
distress--the ladies of Cranford are quite sufficient. "A man," as one
of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the way in the house!"
Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's proceedings,
they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions. Indeed, as
each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, pretty
strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation; but,
somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree.

Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls; and they
were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town,
with all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a
year on the Tinwald Mount.

"Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey
to-night, my dear" (fifteen miles in a gentleman's carriage). "They
will give you some rest to-morrow; but the next day, I have no doubt,
they will call; so be at liberty after twelve--from twelve to three
are our calling hours."

Then, after they had called--

"It is the third day, I dare say your mamma has told you, my dear,
never to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and
returning it; and also, that you are never to stay longer than a
quarter of an hour."

"But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of
an hour has passed?"

"You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow
yourself to forget it in conversation."

As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or
paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about. We
kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to
our time.

I imagine that a few of the gentlefolks of Cranford were poor, and had
some difficulty in making both ends meet; but they were like the
Spartans, and concealed their smart under a smiling face. We none of
us spoke of money, because that subject savoured of commerce and
trade; and though some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The
Cranfordians had that kindly _esprit de corps_ which made them
overlook all deficiencies in success when some among them tried to
conceal their poverty. When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a party
in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the
ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea-tray out
from underneath, every one took this novel proceeding as the most
natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and
ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular
servants' hall, second table, with house-keeper and steward, instead
of the one little charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could
never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had
not been assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state,
pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and
we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we
knew, she had been busy all morning making tea-bread and
sponge-cakes.

There were one or two consequences arising from this general but
unacknowledged poverty, and this very much acknowledged gentility,
which were not amiss, and which might be introduced into many circles
of society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants
of Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in their pattens,
under the guidance of a lantern-bearer, about nine o'clock at night;
and the whole town was abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover, it
was considered "vulgar" (a tremendous word in Crawford) to give
anything expensive, in the way of eatable or drinkable, at the evening
entertainments. Wafer bread-and-butter and sponge-biscuits were all
that the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson gave; and she was sister-in-law to
the late Earl of Glenmire, although she did practise such "elegant
economy."

"Elegant economy!" How naturally one falls back into the phraseology
of Cranford! There, economy was always "elegant," and money-spending
always "vulgar and ostentatious;" a sort of sour-grapeism which made
us very peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay felt
when a certain Captain Brown came to live at Cranford, and openly
spoke about his being poor--not in a whisper to an intimate friend,
the doors and windows being previously closed, but in the public
street, in a loud military voice, alleging his poverty as a reason for
not taking a particular house. The ladies of Cranford were already
rather moaning over the invasion of their territories by a man and a
gentleman. He was a half-pay captain, and had obtained some situation
on a neighbouring railway, which had been vehemently petitioned
against by the little town; and if, in addition to his masculine
gender, and his connection with the obnoxious railway, he was so
brazen as to talk of being poor--why, then, indeed, he must be sent to
Coventry. Death was as true and as common as poverty; yet people never
spoke about that loud out in the streets. It was a word not to be
mentioned to ears polite. We had tacitly agreed to ignore that any
with whom we associated on terms of visiting equality could ever be
prevented by poverty from doing anything that they wished. If we
walked to or from a party, it was because the night was _so_ fine, or
the air _so_ refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were expensive. If
we wore prints instead of summer silks, it was because we preferred a
washing material; and so on, till we blinded ourselves to the vulgar
fact that we were, all of us, people of very moderate means. Of
course, then, we did not know what to make of a man who could speak of
poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow, Captain Brown made
himself respected in Cranford, and was called upon, in spite of all
resolutions to the contrary.

      --_Mrs. Gaskell_


  Give examples of momentary completeness in the second
  and sixth sentences of Par. 1. (Introduction, p. 16.)

  What Inflection is placed on the Interrogative sentence
  in Par. 1? (Introduction, p. 19.)

  Select words throughout the lesson which are emphatic
  through contrast and tell what Inflection is placed on
  them. (Introduction, pp. 20 and 21.)

  How are the parenthetical clauses kept in the
  background? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  WHEN MRS FORRESTER ... SPONGE-CAKES. Account for the
  Inflection on the various phrases and clauses of this
  sentence.

  THOUGH SHE KNEW, AND WE KNEW, AND SHE KNEW THAT WE KNEW.
  Explain the Emphasis. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.)

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR GALAHAD


  My good blade carves the casques of men,
    My tough lance thrusteth sure,
  My strength is as the strength of ten,
    Because my heart is pure.
  The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,                               5
    The hard brands shiver on the steel,
  The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
    The horse and rider reel:
  They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
    And when the tide of combat stands,                               10
  Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
    That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

  How sweet are looks that ladies bend
    On whom their favours fall!
  For them I battle till the end,                                     15
    To save from shame and thrall:
  But all my heart is drawn above,
    My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
  I never felt the kiss of love,
    Nor maiden's hand in mine.                                        20
  More bounteous aspects on me beam,
    Me mightier transports move and thrill;
  So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
    A virgin heart in work and will.

  When down the stormy crescent goes,                                 25
    A light before me swims,
  Between dark stems the forest glows,
    I hear a noise of hymns:
  Then by some secret shrine I ride;
    I hear a voice but none are there;                                30
  The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
    The tapers burning fair.
  Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
    The silver vessels sparkle clean,
  The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,                           35
    And solemn chaunts resound between.

  Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
    I find a magic bark;
  I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
    I float till all is dark.                                         40
  A gentle sound, an awful light!
    Three angels bear the Holy Grail;
  With folded feet, in stoles of white,
    On sleeping wings they sail.
  Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!                                   45
    My spirit beats her mortal bars,
  As down dark tides the glory slides,
    And star-like mingles with the stars.

  When on my goodly charger borne
    Thro' dreaming towns I go,                                        50
  The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
    The streets are dumb with snow.
  The tempest crackles on the leads,
    And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
  But o'er the dark a glory spreads,                                  55
    And gilds the driving hail.
  I leave the plain, I climb the height;
    No branchy thicket shelter yields;
  But blessed forms in whistling storms
    Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.                             60

  A maiden knight--to me is given
    Such hope, I know not fear;
  I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
    That often meet me here.
  I muse on joy that will not cease.                                  65
    Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
  Pure lilies of eternal peace,
    Whose odours haunt my dreams;
  And, stricken by an angel's hand,
    This mortal armour that I wear,                                   70
  This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
    Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

  The clouds are broken in the sky,
    And thro' the mountain-walls
  A rolling organ-harmony                                             75
    Swells up, and shakes and falls.
  Then move the trees, the copses nod,
    Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
  "O just and faithful knight of God!
    Ride on! the prize is near."                                      80
  So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
    By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
  All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
    Until I find the Holy Grail.

      --_Alfred Tennyson_


  PREPARATORY.--Point out the contrast of scene in stanza
  i. How has the poet obtained contrast of sound? Note the
  difficulties of Articulation.

  Enumerate the manifestations by means of which Sir
  Galahad apprehends the continual proximity of the Holy
  Grail.

  Select the lines in which the mystical element is most
  strongly marked. What feeling is aroused in reading
  these lines?

  In what Quality of voice does this feeling find
  expression? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  What is the prevailing Quality of voice?

  A ROLLING ORGAN-HARMONY, ETC. What idea predominates?
  How does it affect the Quality of voice?

       *       *       *       *       *


SONG FOR SAINT CECILIA'S DAY

November 22, 1687


  From harmony, from heavenly harmony
      This universal frame began;
    When Nature underneath a heap
        Of jarring atoms lay,
        And could not heave her head,                                  5
  The tuneful voice was heard from high,
      Arise ye more than dead.
  Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
  In order to their stations leap,
        And Music's power obey.                                       10
  From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
      This universal frame began;
      From harmony to harmony
  Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
  The diapason closing full in Man.                                   15

  What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
      When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
    His listening brethren stood around,
      And, wondering, on their faces fell
    To worship that celestial sound;                                  20
  Less than a God they thought there could not dwell
      Within the hollow of that shell,
    That spoke so sweetly and so well.
  What passion cannot Music raise and quell?

  The trumpet's loud clangour                                         25
    Excites us to arms
  With shrill notes of anger
    And mortal alarms.
  The double double double beat
    Of the thundering drum                                            30
    Cries, Hark! the foes come;
  Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!

    The soft complaining flute
    In dying notes discovers
    The woes of hopeless lovers,                                      35
  Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
    Sharp violins proclaim
  Their jealous pangs and desperation,
  Fury, frantic indignation,
  Depth of pains, and height of passion                               40
    For the fair, disdainful dame.

    But oh! what art can teach,
    What human voice can reach
      The sacred organ's praise?
    Notes inspiring holy love,                                        45
  Notes that wing their heavenly ways
    To mend the choirs above.

  Orpheus could lead the savage race,
  And trees unrooted left their place,
    Sequacious of the lyre:                                           50
  But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:
  When to her organ vocal breath was given
  An angel heard, and straight appear'd
    Mistaking Earth for Heaven.


GRAND CHORUS

  As from the power of sacred lays                                    55
    The spheres began to move,
  And sung the great Creator's praise
    To all the blessed above;
  So when the last and dreadful hour
  This crumbling pageant shall devour,                                60
  The trumpet shall be heard on high,
  The dead shall live, the living die,
  And Music shall untune the sky.

      --_John Dryden_


  What feeling pervades the first and last stanzas? The
  second stanza? In what Quality of voice does each of
  these feelings find expression? (Introduction, pp.
  33-35.)

  Illustrate by means of the third, fourth, and fifth
  stanzas the extent to which Imitation enters into
  reading. (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)

  Account for the gradually increasing Emphasis in ll.
  11-15, 48-54, and 60-63. (Introduction, p. 31.)

  3-6. What is the Shading and Inflection? (Introduction,
  pp. 16 and 33.) Compare with these ll. 55-61.

  16. What is the Inflection on this question?
  (Introduction, p. 19.) Compare with this ll. 42-44.

  21. THEY THOUGHT. How does the reader give to these
  words the force of a parenthetical clause?
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

  22-23. Note the Grouping.

  31. How does the voice make the transition to direct
  discourse? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  42-54. What is the mental attitude? What is the
  corresponding Stress? (Introduction, p. 29.)

  44. ORGAN'S. Account for the marked Emphasis on this
  word. Compare BRIGHT CECILIA, l. 51.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE DAY WAS LINGERING


  The day was lingering in the pale northwest,
    And night was hanging o'er my head,--
    Night where a myriad stars were spread;
  While down in the east, where the light was least,
    Seem'd the home of the quiet dead.                                 5
  And, as I gazed on the field sublime,
    To watch the bright, pulsating stars,
    Adown the deep where the angels sleep
  Came drawn the golden chime
    Of those great spheres that sound the years                       10
  For the horologe of time.
    Millenniums numberless they told,
    Millenniums a million-fold
  From the ancient hour of prime.

      --_Charles Heavysege_


  PREPARATORY.--Compare other passages from literature
  which suggest the "music of the spheres," for example:
  Dryden's _Song for Saint Cecilia's Day, The Moonlight
  Scene_ from _The Merchant of Venice_, Milton's _The
  Hymn_.

  What is the atmosphere of ll. 1-4? Of ll. 5-14? In what
  two different Qualities of voice do the corresponding
  feelings find expression?

  Read ll. 6-11, with a view to Perspective.

  Note the Grouping in ll. 9-11.

       *       *       *       *       *


ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER


  Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,
    And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
    Round many western islands have I been,
  Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
  Oft of one wide expanse had I been told                              5
    That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
    Yet never did I breathe its pure serene
  Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
  Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
    When a new planet swims into his ken;                             10
  Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
    He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
  Looked at each other with a wild surmise--
    Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

      --_John Keats_


  PREPARATORY.--How is the fundamental idea of this sonnet
  illustrated in _The Key to Human Happiness?_ (p. 266.)

  What feeling pervades the last six lines? In which line
  is this feeling most marked? In what Quality of voice
  does it find expression? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)

  Select the words which are emphatic through contrast,
  expressed or implied. (Introduction, p. 32.)

       *       *       *       *       *


GREAT THINGS WERE NE'ER BEGOTTEN IN AN HOUR


  Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;
    Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;
    And he who dareth, in the noble strife
  Of intellects, to cope for real power,--
  Such as God giveth as His rarest dower                               5
    Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,--
  Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower
    Till the long shadows of the night arrive,
  Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,
  Plucked from green boughs, soon wither; those that last             10
  Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon
  And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.
      Life is the hour of labour; on Earth's breast
      Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.

      --_Sir Daniel Wilson (By permission)_


  PREPARATORY.--What is the essential thought in this
  sonnet? Quote corresponding passages. Give illustrations
  from history and fiction.

  What words are emphatic because of (_a_) contrast
  expressed, (_b_) contrast implied? (Introduction, pp. 30
  and 32.)

  Read ll. 3-9, with a view to Perspective. (Introduction,
  p. 33.)

       *       *       *       *       *


A WOOD LYRIC


  Into the stilly woods I go,
  Where the shades are deep and the wind-flowers blow,
  And the hours are dreamy and lone and long,
  And the power of silence is greater than song.
  Into the stilly woods I go,                                          5
  Where the leaves are cool and the wind-flowers blow.

  When I go into the stilly woods,
  And know all the flowers in their sweet, shy hoods,
  The tender leaves in their shimmer and sheen
  Of darkling shadow, diaphanous green,                               10
  In those haunted halls where my footstep falls,
  Like one who enters cathedral walls,
  A spirit of beauty floods over me,
  As over a swimmer the waves of the sea,
  That strengthens and glories, refreshens and fills,                 15
  Till all mine inner heart wakens and thrills
  With a new and a glad and a sweet delight,
  And a sense of the infinite out of sight,
  Of the great unknown that we may not know,
  But only feel with an inward glow                                   20
  When into the great, glad woods we go.

  O life-worn brothers, come with me
  Into the wood's hushed sanctity,
  Where the great, cool branches are heavy with June,
  And the voices of summer are strung in tune;                        25
  Come with me, O heart out-worn,
  Or spirit whom life's brute-struggles have torn,
  Come, tired and broken and wounded feet,
  Where the walls are greening, the floors are sweet,
  The roofs are breathing and heaven's airs meet.                     30
  Come, wash earth's grievings from out of the face,
  The tear and the sneer and the warfare's trace,
  Come, where the bells of the forest are ringing,
  Come, where the oriole's nest is swinging,
  Where the brooks are foaming in amber pools,                        35
  The mornings are still and the noonday cools.
  Cast off earth's sorrows and know what I know,
  When into the glad, deep woods I go.

      --_William Wilfred Campbell (By permission)_


  PREPARATORY.--"An Afternoon alone in the Woods." Tell
  what one may see, and think, and feel. Illustrate by
  quotations from the poets.

  Give numerous examples of momentary completeness
  throughout the poem. (Introduction, p. 16.)

  How does the reader show that ll. 7-12 are merely
  anticipative? (Introduction, p. 17.)

  What change is made in the Force in l. 13?
  (Introduction, p. 33.)

  How is l. 15 connected with l. 13?

  Observe the transition from description to appeal in l.
  22. What is the change in vocal expression?

       *       *       *       *       *


TO NIGHT


  Swiftly walk over the western wave,
          Spirit of Night!
  Out of the misty eastern cave,
  Where, all the long and lone daylight,
  Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,                                  5
  Which make thee terrible and dear,--
          Swift be thy flight!

  Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
          Star-inwrought!
  Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,                              10
  Kiss her until she be wearied out,
  Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
  Touching all with thine opiate wand--
          Come, long-sought!

  When I arose and saw the dawn,                                      15
          I sighed for thee;
  When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
  And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
  And the weary Day turned to his rest,
  Lingering like an unloved guest,                                    20
          I sighed for thee.

  Thy brother Death came, and cried,
          Wouldst thou me?
  Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
  Murmured like a noontide bee                                        25
  Shall I nestle near thy side?
  Wouldst thou me?--And I replied,
         No, not thee!

  Death will come when thou art dead,
         Soon, too soon--                                             30
  Sleep will come when thou art fled;
  Of neither would I ask the boon
  I ask of thee, belovèd Night--
  Swift be thine approaching flight,
        Come soon, soon!                                              35

      --_Percy Bysshe Shelley_

       *       *       *       *       *


THE OPENING SCENE AT THE TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS

From "Essay on Warren Hastings"


On the 13th of February, 1788, the sittings of the Court commenced.
There have been spectacles more dazzling to the eye, more gorgeous
with jewelry and cloth of gold, more attractive to grown-up children,
than that which was then exhibited at Westminster; but, perhaps, there
never was a spectacle so well calculated to strike a highly
cultivated, a reflecting, an imaginative mind. All the various kinds
of interest which belong to the near and to the distant, to the
present and to the past, were collected on one spot and in one hour.
All the talents and all the accomplishments which are developed by
liberty and civilization were now displayed with every advantage that
could be derived both from co-operation and from contrast. Every step
in the proceedings carried the mind either backward, through many
troubled centuries, to the days when the foundations of our
constitution were laid; or far away, over boundless seas and deserts,
to dusky nations living under strange stars, worshipping strange gods,
and writing strange characters from right to left. The High Court of
Parliament was to sit, according to forms handed down from the days of
the Plantagenets, on an Englishman accused of exercising tyranny over
the lord of the holy city of Benares and over the ladies of the
princely house of Oude.

The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William
Rufus, the hall which had resounded with acclamations at the
inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which had witnessed the just
sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers, the hall where
the eloquence of Strafford had for a moment awed and melted a
victorious party inflamed with just resentment, the hall where Charles
had confronted the High Court of Justice with the placid courage which
has half redeemed his fame.

Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined
with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers,
robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under Garter
King-at-Arms. The judges in their vestments of state attended to give
advice on points of law. Near a hundred and seventy lords, three
fourths of the Upper House as the Upper House then was, walked in
solemn order from their usual place of assembling to the tribunal. The
junior Baron present led the way, George Eliott, Lord Heathfield,
recently ennobled for his memorable defence of Gibraltar against the
fleets and armies of France and Spain. The long procession was closed
by the Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal of the realm, by the great
dignitaries, and by the brothers and sons of the King. Last of all
came the Prince of Wales, conspicuous by his fine person and noble
bearing.

The gray old walls were hung with scarlet. The long galleries were
crowded by an audience such as has rarely excited the fears or the
emulation of an orator. There were gathered together, from all parts
of a great, free, enlightened and prosperous empire, grace and female
loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives of every science and
of every art. There were seated round the Queen, the fair-haired young
daughters of the house of Brunswick. There the Ambassadors of great
Kings and Commonwealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle which no
other country in the world could present. There Siddons, in the prime
of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all
the imitations of the stage. There the historian of the Roman Empire
thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against
Verres, and when, before a senate which still retained some show of
freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa.

There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest
scholar of the age. The spectacle had allured Reynolds from that easel
which has preserved to us the thoughtful foreheads of so many writers
and statesmen, and the sweet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had
induced Parr to suspend his labours in that dark and profound mine
from which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition--a treasure
too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with injudicious and
inelegant ostentation; but still precious, massive, and splendid.
There appeared the voluptuous charms of her to whom the heir of the
throne had in secret plighted his faith. There too was she, the
beautiful mother of a beautiful race, the Saint Cecilia, whose
delicate features, lighted up by love and music, art has rescued from
the common decay. There were the members of that brilliant society
which quoted, criticised, and exchanged repartees under the rich
peacock hangings of Mrs. Montague. And there the ladies, whose lips,
more persuasive than those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster
election against palace and treasury, shone round Georgiana, Duchess
of Devonshire.

The Serjeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to the bar and bent
his knee. The culprit was indeed not unworthy of that great presence.
He had ruled an extensive and populous country, had made laws and
treaties, had sent forth armies, had set up and pulled down princes.
And in his high place he had so borne himself that all had feared him,
that most had loved him, and that hatred itself could deny him no
title to glory except virtue. He looked like a great man and not like
a bad man. A person small and emaciated, yet deriving dignity from a
carriage which, while it indicated deference to the court, indicated
also habitual self-possession and self-respect; a high and
intellectual forehead; a brow pensive, but not gloomy; a mouth of
inflexible decision; a face pale and worn, but serene, on which was
written, as legibly as under the picture in the council-chamber at
Calcutta, _Mens aequa in arduis_; such was the aspect with which the
great Proconsul presented himself to his judges.

His counsel accompanied him, men all of whom were afterwards raised by
their talents and learning to the highest posts in their
profession--the bold and strong-minded Law, afterwards Chief-Justice
of the King's Bench; the more humane and eloquent Dallas, afterwards,
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas; and Plomer, who, near twenty years
later, successfully conducted in the same high court the defence of
Lord Melville, and subsequently became Vice-chancellor and Master of
the Rolls.

But neither the culprit nor his advocates attracted so much notice as
the accusers. In the midst of the blaze of red drapery, a space had
been fitted up with green benches and tables for the Commons. The
managers, with Burke at their head, appeared in full dress. The
collectors of gossip did not fail to remark that even Fox, generally
so regardless of his appearance, had paid to the illustrious tribunal
the compliment of wearing a bag and sword. Pitt had refused to be one
of the conductors of the impeachment; and his commanding, copious, and
sonorous eloquence was wanting to that great muster of various
talents. Age and blindness had unfitted Lord North for the duties of a
public prosecutor; and his friends were left without the help of his
excellent sense, his tact, and his urbanity.

But in spite of the absence of these two distinguished members of the
Lower House, the box in which the managers stood contained an array of
speakers such as perhaps had not appeared together since the great age
of Athenian eloquence. There were Fox and Sheridan, the English
Demosthenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignorant,
indeed, or negligent of the art of adapting his reasonings and his
style to the capacity and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude of
comprehension and richness of imagination superior to every orator,
ancient or modern.

There, with eyes reverentially fixed on Burke, appeared the finest
gentleman of the age--his form developed by every manly exercise, his
face beaming with intelligence and spirit--the ingenious, the
chivalrous, the high-souled Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such
men, did the youngest manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of
those who distinguish themselves in life are still contending for
prizes and fellowships at college, he had won for himself a
conspicuous place in Parliament. No advantage of fortune or connection
was wanting that could set off to the height his splendid talents and
his unblemished honour. At twenty-three he had been thought worthy to
be ranked with the veteran statesmen who appeared as the delegates of
the British Commons at the bar of the British nobility. All who stood
at the bar, save him alone, are gone--culprit, advocates, accusers. To
the generation which is now in the vigour of life, he is the sole
representative of a great age which has passed away. But those who,
within the last ten years, have listened with delight till the morning
sun shone on the tapestries of the House of Lords, to the lofty and
animated eloquence of Charles, Earl Grey, are able to form some
estimate of the powers of a race of men among whom he was not the
foremost.

The charges, and the answers of Hastings, were first read. The
ceremony occupied two whole days, and was rendered less tedious than
it would otherwise have been by the silver voice and just emphasis of
Cowper, the clerk of the court, near relation of the amiable poet. On
the third day Burke rose. Four sittings were occupied by his opening
speech, which was intended to be a general introduction to all the
charges. With an exuberance of thought and splendour of diction which
more than satisfied the highly raised expectations of the audience, he
described the character and institutions of the natives of India;
recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic empire of Britain had
originated; and set forth the constitution of the Company and of the
English Presidencies. Having thus attempted to communicate to his
hearers an idea of Eastern society, as vivid as that which existed in
his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administration of Hastings,
as systematically conducted in defiance of morality and public law.

The energy and pathos of the great orator extorted expressions of
unwonted admiration from the stern and hostile Chancellor, and, for a
moment, seemed to pierce even the resolute heart of the defendant. The
ladies in the galleries, unaccustomed to such displays of eloquence,
excited by the solemnity of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to
display their taste and sensibility, were in a state of uncontrollable
emotion. Handkerchiefs were pulled out, smelling-bottles were handed
round; hysterical sobs and screams were heard; and Mrs. Sheridan was
carried out in a fit. At length the orator concluded. Raising his
voice till the old arches of Irish oak resounded: "Therefore," said
he, "hath it with all confidence been ordered by the Commons of Great
Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and
misdemeanours. I impeach him in the name of the Commons' House of
Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of
the English nation, whose ancient honour he has sullied. I impeach him
in the name of the people of India, whose rights he has trodden under
foot and whose country he has turned into a desert. Lastly in the name
of human nature itself, in the name of both sexes, in the name of
every age, in the name of every rank, I impeach the common enemy and
oppressor of all."

      --_Macaulay_


  This lesson is an exercise on Inflection, especially as
  it occurs on antithetical words or phrases and on series
  of words or phrases parallel in construction.
  (Introduction, pp. 19 and 20.)

       *       *       *       *       *


PERORATION OF OPENING SPEECH AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS


1. In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy
upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you.

2. My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of national
justice. Do we want a cause, my Lords? You have the cause of oppressed
princes, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces,
and of wasted kingdoms.

3. Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there so much iniquity
ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my Lords, you must not look to
punish any other such delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not
left substance enough in India to nourish such another delinquent.

4. My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have before you the
Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors; and I believe, my Lords, that
the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a
more glorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people
by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a
social and moral community--all the Commons of England resenting, as
their own, the indignities and cruelties that are offered to all the
people of India.

5. Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of antiquity, nothing
in the modern world, nothing in the range of human imagination, can
supply us with a tribunal like this. My Lords, here we see virtually,
in the mind's eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose
authority you sit and whose power you exercise. We have here all the
branches of the royal family, in a situation between majesty and
subjection, between the sovereign and the subject--offering a pledge
in that situation, for the support of the rights of the Crown and the
liberties of the people, both which extremities they touch.

6. My Lords, we have a great hereditary peerage here; those who have
their own honour, the honour of their ancestors, and of their
posterity, to guard, and who will justify, as they always have
justified, that precision in the Constitution by which justice is made
an hereditary office. My Lords, we have here a new nobility, who have
risen and exalted themselves by various merits, by great civil and
military services, which have extended the fame of this country from
the rising to the setting sun. My Lords, you have here, also, the
lights of our religion; you have the bishops of England. My Lords, you
have that true image of the primitive church in its ancient form, in
its ancient ordinances, purified from the superstitions and vices
which a long succession of ages will bring upon the best institutions.

7. My Lords, these are the securities which we have in all the
constituent parts of the body of this House. We know them, we reckon,
we rest upon them, and commit safely the interests of India and of
humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence that,
ordered by the Commons, I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high
crimes and misdemeanours. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of
Great Britain in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he
has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great
Britain, whose national character he has dishonoured. I impeach him in
the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he
has subverted, whose property he has destroyed, whose country he has
laid waste and desolate. I impeach him in the name and by virtue of
those eternal laws of justice which he has violated. I impeach him in
the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged,
injured and oppressed, in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation,
and condition of life.

   --_Edmund Burke_


  What effect would the solemnity of the occasion and the
  gravity of the accusation have on the Quality of the
  speaker's voice? (Introduction, p. 34.)

  Par. 2. CAUSE. What words in Pars. 3, 4, and 5 are
  emphatic through contrast with this word? Point out
  similar contrasts in Par. 6.

  Account for the Inflection on the various questions.

  How are the Climaxes in Pars. 2, 5, and 7 interpreted
  vocally? (Introduction, p. 31.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE SONG MY PADDLE SINGS


  West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
  Blow from the mountains, blow from the west.
  The sail is idle, the sailor too;
  O! wind of the west, we wait for you.
  Blow, blow!                                                          5
  I have wooed you so,
  But never a favour you bestow.
  You rock your cradle the hills between,
  But scorn to notice my white lateen.

  I stow the sail, unship the mast:                                   10
  I wooed you long, but my wooing's past;
  My paddle will lull you into rest.
  O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west,
  Sleep, sleep,
  By your mountain steep,                                             15
  Or down where the prairie grasses sweep!
  Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,
  For soft is the song my paddle sings.

  August is laughing across the sky,
  Laughing while paddle, canoe, and I,                                20
  Drift, drift,
  Where the hills uplift
  On either side of the current swift.

  The river rolls in its rocky bed;
  My paddle is plying its way ahead                                   25
  Dip, dip,
  While the waters flip
  In foam as over their breast we slip.

  And oh, the river runs swifter now;
  The eddies circle about my bow.                                     30
  Swirl, swirl!
  How the ripples curl
  In many a dangerous pool awhirl!

  And forward far the rapids roar,
  Fretting their margin for evermore.                                 35
  Dash, dash,
  With a mighty crash,
  They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.

  Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!
  The reckless waves you must plunge into.                            40
  Reel, reel,
  On your trembling keel,
  But never a fear my craft will feel.

  We've raced the rapid, we're far ahead!
  The river slips through its silent bed.                             45
  Sway, sway,
  As the bubbles spray
  And fall in tinkling tunes away.

  And up on the hills against the sky,
  A fir-tree rocking its lullaby,                                     50
  Swings, swings,
  Its emerald wings,
  Swelling the song that my paddle sings.

      --_E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)_
            (_By arrangement with the Author_)


  By examples from the above poem show to what extent
  Imitation enters into vocal expression. (Introduction,
  pp. 4-6.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDGE

From "Horatius"


  ... The Consul's brow was sad,
    And the Consul's speech was low,
  And darkly looked he at the wall
    And darkly at the foe.
  "Their van will be upon us                                           5
    Before the bridge goes down;
  And if they once may win the bridge,
    What hope to save the town?"

  Then out spake brave Horatius,
    The Captain of the Gate:                                          10
  "To every man upon this earth
    Death cometh soon or late.
  And how can man die better
    Than facing fearful odds,
  For the ashes of his fathers,                                       15
    And the temples of his gods?

  "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
    With all the speed ye may;
  I, with two more to help me,
    Will hold the foe in play.                                        20
  In yon straight path a thousand
    May well be stopped by three.
  Now who will stand on either hand,
  And keep the bridge with me?"

  Then out spake Spurius Lartius,--                                   25
    A Ramnian proud was he,--
  "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
    And keep the bridge with thee."
  And out spake strong Herminius,--
    Of Titian blood was he,--                                         30
  "I will abide on thy left side,
    And keep the bridge with thee."

  "Horatius," quoth the Consul,
    "As thou sayest, so let it be."
  And straight against that great array                               35
    Forth went the dauntless Three.
  For Romans in Rome's quarrel
    Spared neither land nor gold,
  Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
    In the brave days of old.                                         40

  Then none was for a party;
    Then all were for the state;
  Then the great man helped the poor,
    And the poor man loved the great:
  Then lands were fairly portioned;                                   45
    Then spoils were fairly sold:
  The Romans were like brothers
    In the brave days of old.

  Now, Roman is to Roman
    More hateful than a foe,                                          50
  And the Tribunes beard the high,
    And the Fathers grind the low.
  As we wax hot in faction,
    In battle we wax cold:
  Wherefore men fight not as they fought                              55
    In the brave days of old.

  Now while the Three were tightening
    Their harness on their backs,
  The Consul was the foremost man
    To take in hand an axe:                                           60
  And Fathers mixed with Commons
    Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
  And smote upon the planks above,
    And loosed the props below.

  Meanwhile the Tuscan army,                                          65
    Right glorious to behold,
  Came flashing back the noonday light,
  Rank behind rank, like surges bright
    Of a broad sea of gold.
  Four hundred trumpets sounded                                       70
    A peal of warlike glee,
  As that great host with measured tread,
  And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
  Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head,
    Where stood the dauntless Three.                                  75

  The Three stood calm and silent,
    And looked upon the foes,
  And a great shout of laughter
    From all the vanguard rose:
  And forth three chiefs came spurring                                80
    Before that deep array;
  To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
  And lifted high their shields, and flew
    To win the narrow way;

  Aunus from green Tifernum,                                          85
    Lord of the Hill of Vines;
  And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
    Sicken in Ilva's mines;
  And Picus, long to Clusium
    Vassal in peace and war,                                          90
  Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
  From that gray crag where, girt with towers,
  The fortress of Nequinum lowers
    O'er the pale waves of Nar.

  Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus                                     95
    Into the stream beneath;
  Herminius struck at Seius,
    And clove him to the teeth;
  At Picus brave Horatius
    Darted one fiery thrust;                                         100
  And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
    Clashed in the bloody dust.

  Then Ocnus of Falerii
    Rushed on the Roman Three;
  And Lausulus of Urgo,                                              105
    The rover of the sea;
  And Aruns of Volsinium,
    Who slew the great wild boar,
  The great wild boar that had his den
  Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,                                    110
  And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
    Along Albinia's shore.

  Herminius smote down Aruns;
    Lartius laid Ocnus low;
  Right to the heart of Lausulus                                     115
    Horatius sent a blow.
  "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate!
    No more, aghast and pale,
  From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark
  The track of thy destroying bark.                                  120
  No more Campania's hinds shall fly
  To woods and caverns when they spy
    Thy thrice accursèd sail."

  But now no sound of laughter
    Was heard among the foes.                                        125
  A wild and wrathful clamour
    From all the vanguard rose.
  Six spears' lengths from the entrance
    Halted that deep array,
  And for a space no man came forth                                  130
    To win the narrow way.

  But hark! the cry is Astur:
    And lo! the ranks divide,
  And the great Lord of Luna
    Comes with his stately stride.                                   135
  Upon his ample shoulders
    Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
  And in his hand he shakes the brand
    Which none but he can wield.

  He smiled on those bold Romans                                     140
    A smile serene and high;
  He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
    And scorn was in his eye.
  Quoth he: "The she-wolf's litter
    Stand savagely at bay;                                           145
  But will ye dare to follow
    If Astur clears the way?"

  Then, whirling up his broadsword
    With both hands to the height,
  He rushed against Horatius,                                        150
    And smote with all his might.
  With shield and blade Horatius
    Right deftly turned the blow.
  The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
  It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:                          155
  The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
    To see the red blood flow.

  He reeled, and on Herminius
    He leaned one breathing-space;
  Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds,                             160
    Sprang right at Astur's face.
  Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,
    So fierce a thrust he sped,
  The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
    Behind the Tuscan's head.                                        165

  And the great Lord of Luna
    Fell at that deadly stroke,
  As falls on Mount Alvernus
    A thunder-smitten oak.
  Far o'er the crashing forest                                       170
    The giant arms lie spread;
  And the pale augurs, muttering low,
    Gaze on the blasted head.

  On Astur's throat Horatius
    Right firmly pressed his heel,                                   175
  And thrice and four times tugged amain,
    Ere he wrenched out the steel.
  "And see," he cried, "the welcome,
    Fair guests, that waits you here!
  What noble Lucumo comes next,                                      180
    To taste our Roman cheer?"

  But at his haughty challenge
    A sullen murmur ran,
  Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,
    Along that glittering van.                                       185
  There lacked not men of prowess,
    Nor men of lordly race;
  For all Etruria's noblest
    Were round the fatal place.
  But all Etruria's noblest                                          190
    Felt their hearts sink to see
  On the earth the bloody corpses,
    In the path the dauntless Three.

  Yet one man for one moment
    Strode out before the crowd;                                     195
  Well known was he to all the Three,
    And they gave him greeting loud.
  "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
    Now welcome to thy home!
  Why dost thou stay, and turn away?                                 200
    Here lies the road to Rome."

  Thrice looked he at the city;
    Thrice looked he at the dead;
  And thrice came on in fury,
    And thrice turned back in dread;                                 205
  And, white with fear and hatred,
    Scowled at the narrow way
  Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
    The bravest Tuscans lay.

  But meanwhile axe and lever                                        210
    Have manfully been plied;
  And now the bridge hangs tottering
    Above the boiling tide.
  "Come back, come back, Horatius!"
    Loud cried the Fathers all.                                      215
  "Back Lartius! back Herminius!
    Back, ere the ruin fall!"

  Back darted Spurius Lartius;
    Herminius darted back:
  And, as they passed beneath their feet                             220
    They felt the timbers crack.
  But when they turned their faces.
    And on the farther shore
  Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
    They would have crossed once more.                               225

  But with a crash like thunder
    Fell every loosened beam,
  And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
    Lay right athwart the stream:
  And a long shout of triumph                                        230
    Rose from the walls of Rome,
  As to the highest turret-tops
    Was splashed the yellow foam.

  Alone stood brave Horatius,
    But constant still in mind;                                      235
  Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
    And the broad flood behind.
  "Down with him!" cried false Sextus,
    With a smile on his pale face,
  "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,                              240
    "Now yield thee to our grace."

  Round turned he, as not deigning
    Those craven ranks to see;
  Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
    To Sextus naught spake he:                                       245
  But he saw on Palatinus
    The white porch of his home;
  And he spake to the noble river
    That rolls by the towers of Rome:

  "Oh, Tiber! Father Tiber!                                          250
    To whom the Romans pray,
  A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
    Take thou in charge this day!"
  So he spake, and speaking sheathed
    The good sword by his side,                                      255
  And with his harness on his back,
    Plunged headlong in the tide.

  No sound of joy or sorrow
    Was heard from either bank;
  But friends and foes in dumb surprise,                             260
  With parted lips and straining eyes,
    Stood gazing where he sank;
  And when above the surges
    They saw his crest appear,
  All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,                               265
  And even the ranks of Tuscany
    Could scarce forbear to cheer.

  But fiercely ran the current,
    Swollen high by months of rain:
  And fast his blood was flowing,                                    270
    And he was sore in pain,
  And heavy with his armour,
    And spent with changing blows:
  And oft they thought him sinking,
    But still again he rose.                                         275

  Never, I ween, did swimmer,
    In such an evil case
  Struggle through such a raging flood
    Safe to the landing-place:
  But his limbs were borne up bravely                                280
    By the brave heart within,
  And our good Father Tiber
    Bore bravely up his chin.

  "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus:
    "Will not the villain drown?                                     285
  But for this stay, ere close of day
    We should have sacked the town!"
  "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena,
    "And bring him safe to shore;
  For such a gallant feat of arms                                    290
    Was never seen before."

  And now he feels the bottom;
    Now on dry earth he stands;
  Now round him throng the Fathers
    To press his gory hands;                                         295
  And now, with shouts and clapping,
    And noise of weeping loud,
  He enters through the River-Gate,
    Borne by the joyous crowd.

      --_Macaulay_


  PREPARATORY.--What is the historic back-ground of the
  ballad from which this selection is taken? Narrate
  briefly the events as told by Macaulay in _Horatius_.
  Where is the scene of the dramatic events here
  portrayed? Who are the chief actors? Who are the
  speakers?

  Show whether the words and phrases repeated in the
  following lines are accompanied by increased Emphasis or
  whether the Emphasis is transferred: ll. 1-4, 41-46,
  108-109, 118-121, 188-190, 198-199, 202-205, 214-217,
  240-241, 244-245, 252, 292-295. (Introduction, pp.
  30-32.) Give examples of Emphasis through contrast,
  throughout the selection.

  What Inflection is placed on the questions in ll. 8,
  13-16, 23-24? Give reasons.

  Compare the mental attitude of Horatius in ll. 11-16,
  and ll. 17-24. What is the difference in Stress?

  ll. 38-39. What Inflection and Emphasis on the series of
  words? (Introduction, pp. 20 and 31.)

  In what way does Imitation enter into the reading of ll.
  72-75, 82-84, 95-100, 160-163, 218-221, 292-299? How are
  the Time and Stress affected? How does Imitation affect
  the Pitch in ll. 230-233, 156-157, 172-173, 238-241,
  265-267, 284-291?

  ll. 144-147. In what Quality of voice should Astur's
  speech be read?

  l. 153. What is the most important word?

  ll. 178-181, 196-201. How does the derision affect the
  Stress and the Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22,
  and 30.)

  ll. 186-187. Explain the Inflection on this negative
  statement.

  ll. 238-241, 284-291. Compare the feelings of Sextus
  with those of Lars Porsena. How is the difference shown
  in the Quality of voice? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)

       *       *       *       *       *


ON THE DEATH OF KING EDWARD VII

Delivered in the British House of Commons, May 12th, 1910


The late King, who has been suddenly taken away from us, had, at the
time of his death, not yet completed the tenth year of his reign.
Those years were crowded with moving and stirring events, both abroad,
in the Empire, and here at home. In our relations with foreign
countries they have been years of growing friendships, of new
understandings, of stronger and surer safeguards for the peace of
mankind. Within the Empire during the same time the sense of
interdependence, the consciousness of common interests and common
risks, the ever-tightening bonds of corporate unity have been
developed and vivified as they had never been before. Here at home, as
though it were by way of contrast, controversial issues of the gravest
kind--economic, social, and constitutional--have ripened into a rapid
maturity.

Sir, in all these multiform manifestations of our national and
imperial life, history will assign a part of singular dignity and
authority to the great Ruler whom we have lost. In external affairs
his powerful personal influence was steadily and zealously directed to
the avoidance not only of war, but of the causes and pretexts of war,
and he well earned the title by which he will always be remembered,
"the Peacemaker of the World."

Within the boundaries of his own Empire, by his intimate knowledge of
its component parts, by his broad and elastic sympathy not only with
ambitions, and aspirations, but with the sufferings and the hardships
of his people, by his response to any and every appeal whether to the
sense of justice or the spirit of compassion, he won a degree of
loyalty, affection, and confidence which few Sovereigns have ever
enjoyed. At home, we all recognize that, above the din and dust of our
hard-fought controversies, detached from party and attached only to
the common interests, we had in him an arbiter ripe in experience,
judicial in temper, at once a reverent worshipper of our traditions
and a watchful guardian of our constitutional liberties.

One is tempted, indeed constrained, on such an occasion as this to ask
what were the qualities which enabled a man called comparatively late
in life to new duties of unexampled complexity--what were the
qualities which in practice proved him so admirably fitted to the
task, and have given him an enduring and illustrious record among the
rulers and governors of the nations? I should be disposed to assign
the first place to what sounds a commonplace--but in its persistent
and unfailing exercise is one of the rarest of virtues--his strong,
abiding, dominating sense of public duty.

King Edward, be it remembered, was a man of many and varied interests.
He was a sportsman in the best sense, an ardent and discriminating
patron of the Arts, and as well equipped as any man of his time for
the give-and-take of social intercourse; wholly free from the
prejudices and narrowing rules of caste; at home in all companies; an
enfranchised citizen of the world. To such a man, endowed as he was by
nature, placed where he was by fortune and by circumstances, there
was open, if he had chosen to enter it, an unlimited field for
self-indulgence. But, Sir, as every one will acknowledge who was
brought into daily contact with him in the sphere of affairs, his duty
to the State always came first. In this great business community there
was no better man of business, no man by whom the humdrum
obligations--punctuality, method, preciseness, and economy of time and
speech--were more keenly recognized or more severely practised. I
speak with the privilege of close experience when I say that wherever
he was, whatever may have been his apparent preoccupations, in the
transactions of the business of the State there were never any
arrears, there was never any trace of confusion, there was never any
moment of avoidable delay.

Next to these, Sir--I am still in the domain of practice and
administration--I should put his singular, perhaps an unrivalled, tact
in the management of men, and a judgment of intuitive shrewdness as to
the best outlet from perplexed and often baffling situations. He had,
in its highest and best development, the genius of common sense. These
rare gifts of practical efficiency were, during the whole of his
Kingship, yoked to the service of a great ideal. He was animated every
day of his Sovereignty by the thought that he was at once the head and
the chief servant of that vast complex organism which we call the
British Empire. He recognized in the fullest degree both the powers
and the limitations of a Constitutional Monarch. Here, at home, he
was, though no politician, as every one knows, a keen Social Reformer.
He loved his people at home and over the seas. Their interests were
his interests; their fame was his fame. He had no self apart from
them.

I will not touch for more than a moment on more delicate and sacred
ground--on his personal charm, the warmth and wealth of his humanity;
his unfailing considerateness for all who in any capacity were
permitted to work for him. I will only say, in this connection that no
man in our time has been more justly beloved by his family and his
friends, and no Ruler in our or in any time has been more sincerely
true, more unswervingly loyal, more uniformly kind to his advisers and
his servants. By the unsearchable counsels of the Disposer of Events
he has been called suddenly, and without warning, to his account. We
are still dazed under the blow which has befallen us. It is too soon,
as yet, even to attempt to realize its full meaning, but this, at
least, we may say at once and with full assurance, that he has left to
his people a memory and an example which they will never forget, a
memory of great opportunities greatly employed, and an example which
the humblest of his subjects may treasure and strive to follow, of
simplicity, courage, self-denial, tenacious devotion up to the last
moment of conscious life to work, to duty, and to service.

    --_The Right Honourable Herbert Henry Asquith_


  WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES ... ENJOYED. Make an analysis of
  this sentence with a view to Perspective. (Introduction,
  p. 33.)

  DETACHED ... INTERESTS. Note the contrasts and indicate
  the Inflection on each.

  TEMPTED, ... CONSTRAINED. What difference in Emphasis?
  (Introduction, p. 31.) Compare SINGULAR, PERHAPS
  UNRIVALLED; IN OUR OR IN ANY TIME.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE HEROES OF MAGERSFONTEIN

Dec. 11, 1899


1. During the night it was considered expedient that the Highland
Brigade, 4,000 strong, under General Wauchope, should get close enough
to the lines of the foe to make it possible to charge the heights. At
midnight the gallant but ill-fated men moved cautiously through the
darkness toward the kopje where the Boers were most strongly
intrenched. They were led by a guide who was supposed to know every
inch of the country, out into the darkness of an African night.

2. So onward until three of the clock on the Monday. Then out of the
darkness a rifle rang sharp and clear, a herald of disaster--a soldier
had tripped in the dark over the hidden wires laid down by the enemy.
In a second, in the twinkling of an eye, the searchlights of the Boers
fell broad and clear as the noonday sun on the ranks of the doomed
Highlanders, though it left the enemy concealed in the shadows of the
frowning mass of hills behind them. For one brief moment the Scots
seemed paralysed by the suddenness of their discovery, for they knew
that they were huddled together like sheep within fifty yards of the
trenches of the foes.

3. Then clear above the confusion rolled the voice of the General:
"Steady, men, steady!"--and like an echo to the veterans out came the
crash of nearly a thousand rifles not fifty paces from them. The
Highlanders reeled before the shock like trees before the tempest;
their best, their bravest, fell in that wild hail of lead. General
Wauchope was down, riddled with bullets; yet gasping, dying, bleeding
from every vein, the Highland chief raised himself on his hands and
knees and cheered his men forward. Men and officers fell in heaps
together.

4. The Black Watch charged, and the Gordons and the Seaforths, with a
yell that stirred the British camp below, rushed onward to death or
disaster. The accursed wires caught them around the legs until they
floundered like trapped wolves, and all the time the rifles of the foe
sang the song of death in their ears. They fell back broken and
beaten, leaving nearly 1,300 dead and wounded, just where the broad
breast of the grassy veldt melts into the embrace of the rugged
African hills; and an hour later, the dawning came of the dreariest
day that Scotland has known for a generation past.

5. Of her officers, the flower of her chivalry, the pride of her
breeding, but few remained to tell the tale--a sad tale truly, but one
untinted with dishonour nor smirched with disgrace, for up these
heights under similar circumstances, even a brigade of devils could
scarce have hoped to pass. All that mortal man could do the Scots did;
they tried, they failed, they fell, and there is nothing left us now
but to revere their memory and give them a place of honour in the
pages of history.

6. Three hundred yards to the rear of the little township of Modder
River, just as the sun was sinking in a blaze of African splendour, on
the evening of Tuesday, the 12th of December, a long shallow grave lay
exposed in the breast of the veldt. To the westward, the broad river
fringed with trees runs murmuringly; to the eastward, the heights
still held by the enemy, scowled menacingly; north and south the veldt
undulated peacefully; a few paces to the northward of that grave,
fifty dead Highlanders lay dressed as they had fallen on the field of
battle: they had followed their chief to the field, and they were to
follow him to the grave.

7. How grim and stern these men looked as they lay face upward to the
sky, with great hands clutched in the last agony, and brows still knit
with the stern lust of the strife in which they had fallen. The
plaids, dear to every Highland clan, were represented there, and out
of the distance came the sound of pipes. It was the General coming to
join his men. There, right under the eyes of the enemy, moved with
slow and solemn tread all that remained of the Highland Brigade. In
front of them walked the chaplain, with bared head, dressed in his
robes of office; then came the pipers with their pipes, sixteen in
all, and behind them, with arms reversed, moved the Highlanders,
dressed in all the regalia of their regiments, and in the midst the
dead General, borne by four of his comrades. Out swelled the pipes to
the strains of "The Flowers of the Forest," now ringing proud and high
until the soldier's head went back in haughty defiance--and eyes
flashed through tears like sunlight on steel, now sinking to moaning
wail like a woman mourning for her first-born, until the proud heads
drooped forward till they rested on heaving chests, and tears rolled
down the wan and scarred faces, and the choking sobs broke through the
solemn rhythm of the march of death.

8. Right up to the grave they marched, then broke away in companies,
until the General lay in the shallow grave with a Scottish square of
armed men around him. Only the dead man's son and a small remnant of
his officers stood with the chaplain and the pipers, while the solemn
service of the church was spoken.

9. Then once again the pipes pealed out, and "Lochaber No More" cut
through the stillness like a cry of pain until one could almost hear
the widow in her Highland home mourning for the soldier she would
welcome back no more.

10. Then, as if touched with the magic of one thought, the soldiers
turned their tear-damped eyes from the still form in the shallow grave
toward the height where Cronje, the Lion of Africa, and his soldiers
stood. Then every cheek flushed crimson, and strong jaws set like
steel, and the veins on the hands that clasped the rifle handles
swelled almost to bursting with the fervour of the grip, and that look
from those silent, armed men spoke more eloquently than ever spoke the
tongues of orators. For on each frowning face the spirit of vengeance
sat, and each sparkling eye asked silently for blood.

11. At the head of the grave, at the point nearest the enemy, the
General was laid to sleep, his officers grouped around him, while in
line behind him, his soldiers were laid in a double row wrapped in
their blankets. No shots were fired over the dead men resting so
peacefully, only the salute was given, and then the men marched
campwards as the darkness of an African night rolled over the
far-stretching breadth of the veldt.

   --_From "The London Daily News" (By permission)_


  Par. 1. Note the Grouping, Pause, and Shading in the
  last sentence. Compare the Grouping in the preceding
  sentence, in the last sentence of Par. 4, in the first
  sentence of Par. 7, and in the second sentence of Par.
  10.

  Explain the Inflection and Emphasis on the phrases
  parallel in construction, in the fifth and sixth
  sentences of Par. 7, and the second sentence of Par. 10.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE FUNERAL OF JULIUS CÆSAR

From "Julius Cæsar," Act III. Scene ii.

The Forum. _Enter Brutus, Cassius, and a throng of Citizens._

_All._ We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

_Bru._ Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.--
Cassius, go you into the other street,
And part the numbers.--
Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here;
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
And public reasons shall be rendered
Of Cæsar's death.

_1 Cit._ I will hear Brutus speak.

_2 Cit._ I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons,
When severally we hear them rendered.                                 10

[_Exit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. Brutus goes
into the rostrum._]

_3 Cit._ The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

_Bru._ Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause;
and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine
honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may
believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your
senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any
in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I
say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If
then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar,                20
this is my answer.--Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that
I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living,
and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live
all free men? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as
he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I
honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour
for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here
so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for
him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would                   30
not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If
any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a
reply.

_All._ None, Brutus, none.

_Bru._ Then none have I offended. I have done no more
to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of
his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated,
wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced,
for which he suffered death.                                          40

[_Enter Antony and others, with Cæsar's body._]

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who,
though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the
benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as
which of you shall not? With this I depart,--that, as
I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the
same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country
to need my death.

_All._ Live, Brutus, live! live!

_1 Cit._ Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

_2 Cit._ Give him a statue with his ancestors.                        50

_3 Cit._ Let him be Cæsar.

_4 Cit._ Cæsar's better parts
Shall now be crown'd in Brutus.

_1 Cit._ We'll bring him to his house with shouts and
clamours.

_Bru._ My countrymen,--

_2 Cit._           Peace! silence! Brutus speaks.

_1 Cit._ Peace, ho!

_Bru._ Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And, for my sake, stay here with Antony:
Do grace to Cæsar's corpse, and grace his speech                      60
Tending to Cæsar 's glories; which Mark Antony,
By our permission, is allow'd to make.
I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [_Exit_]

_1 Cit._ Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.

_3 Cit._ Let him go up into the public chair;
We'll hear him.--Noble Antony, go up.

_Ant._ For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.

[_He goes up into the rostrum._]

_4 Cit._ What does he say of Brutus?

_3 Cit._             He says, for Brutus' sake,                       70
He finds himself beholding to us all.

_4 Cit._ 'T were best to speak no harm of Brutus here.

_1 Cit._ This Cæsar was a tyrant.

_3 Cit._                Nay, that's certain:
We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

_2 Cit._ Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.

_Ant._ You gentle Romans,--

_All._                Peace, ho! let us hear him.

_Ant._ Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.                              80
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,--
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men.--
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.                                   90
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.                                     100
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,                         110
And men have lost their reason!--Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

_1 Cit._ Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

_2 Cit._ If thou consider rightly of the matter,
Cæsar has had great wrong.

_3 Cit._ Has he, masters?
I fear there will a worse come in his place.

_4 Cit._ Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the
crown;
Therefore 't is certain he was not ambitious.                        120

_1 Cit._ If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

_2 Cit._ Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

_3 Cit._ There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

_4 Cit._ Now mark him, he begins again to speak.

_Ant._ But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,                         130
Who, you all know, are honourable men;
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar;
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:
Let but the commons hear this testament,--
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,--
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood.                           140
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

_4 Cit._ We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.

_All._ The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar's will.

_Ant._ Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,                           150
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For, if you should, O, what would come of it!

_4 Cit._ Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony;
You shall read us the will,--Cæsar's will.

_Ant._ Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it.
I fear I wrong the honourable men
Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar-, I do fear it.

_4 Cit._ They were traitors: honourable men!                         160

_All._ The will! the testament!

_2 Cit._ They were villains, murderers: the will! read
the will!

_Ant._ You will compel me, then, to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,
And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?

_All._ Come down.

_2 Cit._ Descend.

_3 Cit._ You shall have leave.

[_He comes down from the rostrum._]

_4 Cit._ A ring; stand round.                                        170

_1 Cit._ Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

_2 Cit._ Room for Antony!--most noble Antony.

_Ant._ Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

_All._ Stand back! room! bear back!

_Ant._ If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on;
'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii:--
Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through:                     180
See, what a rent the envious Casca made:
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,                               190
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep; and I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.                          200
Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here.
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

_1 Cit._ O piteous spectacle!

_2 Cit._ O noble Cæsar!

_3 Cit._ O woeful day!

_4 Cit._ O traitors, villains!

_1 Cit._ O most bloody sight!

_2 Cit._ We will be revenged.

_All._ Revenge! About,--seek,--burn,--fire,--kill,--slay!            210
Let not a traitor live!

_Ant._ Stay, countrymen.

_1 Cit._ Peace there! Hear the noble Antony.

_2 Cit._ We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with
him.

_Ant._ Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.                         220
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;
But as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths,               230
And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

_All._ We'll mutiny!

_1 Cit._ We'll burn the house of Brutus!

_3 Cit._ Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.

_Ant._ Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

_All._ Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony.                    240

_Ant._ Why, friends, you go to do you know not what:
Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv'd your loves?
Alas, you know not: I must tell you then:
You have forgot the will I told you of.

_All._ Most true;--the will!--let's stay, and hear the
will.

_Ant._ Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal.
To every Roman citizen he gives,
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

_2 Cit._ Most noble Cæsar!--we'll revenge his death.

_3 Cit._ O royal Caesar!                                             250

_Ant._ Hear me with patience.

_All._ Peace, ho!

_Ant._ Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever,--common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar! when comes such another?

_1 Cit._ Never, never!--Come, away, away!
We'll burn his body in the holy place,                               260
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.

_2 Cit._ Go, fetch fire.

_3 Cit._ Pluck down benches.

_4 Cit._ Pluck down forms, windows, anything.

[_Exeunt all, with the body._]

_Ant._ Now let it work! Mischief, thou art afoot,
Take thou what course thou wilt!

    --_Shakespeare_


  PREPARATORY.--For dramatic rendering see notes on
  _Highland Hospitality_ pp. 153 and 154.

  The long speeches of Brutus and Antony may be practised
  by themselves as exercises in Emphasis and Inflection.

  88-89. How is the parenthetical clause subordinated?
  Give other examples from the extracts.

  153-154. Select the emphatic words.

  160. What Stress is placed on TRAITORS and HONOURABLE
  respectively? Account for the difference.

  210. ABOUT, ... SLAY! What is the Stress? Compare ll.
  236-237, and ll. 259-265.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE REVENGE

A Ballad of the Fleet, 1591


  At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
  And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
  "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"
  Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward;
  But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,           5
  And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
  We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"

  Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;
  You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
  But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.            10

  I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
  To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."

  So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
  Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
  But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land         15
  Very carefully and slow,
  Men of Bideford in Devon,
  And we laid them on the ballast down below;
  For we brought them all aboard,
  And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left
    to Spain,                                                         20
  To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.

  He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
  And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
  With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.
  "Shall we fight or shall we fly?                                    25
  Good Sir Richard, tell us now,
  For to fight is but to die!
  There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set."
  And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good English men.
  Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,       30
  For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."

  Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so
  The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
  With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
  For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left
    were seen,                                                        35
  And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.

  Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks
    and laugh'd,
  Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
  Running on and on, till delay'd
  By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred tons,    40
  And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
  Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.

  And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud
  Whence the thunderbolt will fall
  Long and loud,                                                      45
  Four galleons drew away
  From the Spanish fleet that day,
  And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
  And the battle-thunder broke from them all.

  But anon the great San Philip she bethought herself and went        50
  Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content;
  And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
  For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
  And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears
  When he leaps from the water to the land.                           55

  And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over
    the summer sea,
  But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
  Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built
    galleons came,
  Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder
    and flame;
  Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead
    and her shame:                                                    60
  For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight
    us no more--
  God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

  For he said "Fight on! fight on!"
  Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;
  And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night
    was gone,                                                         65
  With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,

  But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
  And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
  And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"

  And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over
    the summer sea,                                                   70
  And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
  But they dar'd not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still
    could sting,
  So they watch'd what the end would be.
  And we had not fought them in vain,
  But in perilous plight were we,                                     75
  Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
  And half of the rest of us maim'd for life
  In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
  And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
  And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all
    of it spent;                                                      80
  And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
  But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
  "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
  As may never be fought again!
  We have won great glory, my men!                                    85
  And a day less or more
  At sea or ashore,
  We die--does it matter when?
  Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
  Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"           90

  And the gunner said "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
  "We have children, we have wives,
  And the Lord hath spared our lives.
  We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
  We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."           95
  And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.

  And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then
  Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
  And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
  But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:                        100
  "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
  I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
  With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!"
  And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

  And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,     105
  And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap
  That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
  Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
  But they sank his body with honour down into the deep,

  And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew,           110
  And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;
  When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,
  And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
  And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
  And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,     115
  Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts
    and their flags,
  And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy
    of Spain,
  And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags
  To be lost evermore in the main.

      --_Alfred Tennyson_


  PREPARATORY.--Give a series of titles suggestive of the
  events narrated in this ballad; describe the picture
  that each title calls up, and tell on what part of the
  poem it is based.

  What different ideals of bravery are brought out in this
  ballad, and by whom is each presented? Compare them with
  those set forth in _The Private of the Buffs_ (Fourth
  Reader), and _Horatius_.

  1, 3, and 13. (Appendix A, 1 and 6.)

  'FORE GOD ... sick. What Inflection prevails?
  (Introduction, pp. 17 and 18.)

  What Inflection is placed on the questions in ll. 7, 25,
  62, 88, and 108? (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)

  FOR THE GLORY OF THE LORD. How is the irony brought out
  by the voice? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)

  25-28. (Introduction, p. 18.)

  Compare the speech of the men (ll. 25-28) with that of
  Sir Richard (ll. 29-31) from the standpoint of mental
  attitude. How is this difference indicated by Stress?

  32. Which are the emphatic words? Give your reasons.
  Select words that are emphatic because of contrast from
  ll. 34, 35, and 91. What Inflection is placed on the
  emphatic words in each case?

  How does repetition affect the Emphasis in ll. 37-38,
  53-54, 58-60, 63, and 89? (Introduction, pp. 31-33.)

  40. With what word is THAT connected in sense? How does
  the voice make the connection? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  43-47. Analyse these lines from the standpoint of
  Perspective.

  66-67. Where do the Pauses occur? How does the Grouping
  affect them?

  68. Why is HIMSELF emphatic?

  75-81. Give examples of "momentary completeness".

  93. Which is the most emphatic word in this line? Give
  your reason.

  101-103. To what extent should Imitation enter into the
  reading of this speech? (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)

  112-117. How can the effect of this Climax be brought
  out by the voice? (Introduction, p. 31.)

  118. Note the transition in thought and feeling. By what
  change in Time, Pitch, and Force is it accompanied?

       *       *       *       *       *


HERVÉ RIEL


  On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
    Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
  And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
  Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
    Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,               5
  With the English fleet in view.

  'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase;
    First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville:
      Close on him fled, great and small,
      Twenty-two good ships in all;                                   10
  And they signalled to the place,
  "Help the winners of a race!
    Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still,
    Here's the English can and will!"

  Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board;      15
    "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
       laughed they:
  "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred
    and scored,
  Shall the _Formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns,
    Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,
  Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,      20
      And with flow at full beside?
      Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
    Reach the mooring? Rather say,
  While rock stands or water runs,
    Not a ship will leave the bay!"                                   25

  Then was called a council straight.
  Brief and bitter the debate:
  "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow
  All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,
  For a prize to Plymouth Sound?                                      30
  Better run the ships aground!"
    (Ended Damfreville his speech.)
  Not a minute more to wait!
    "Let the captains all and each
    Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!        35
  France must undergo her fate.

  Give the word!" But no such word
  Was ever spoke or heard;
    For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these,--
  A Captain? a Lieutenant? a Mate--first, second, third?              40
    No such man of mark, and meet
    With his betters to compete!
    But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet,
  A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.

  And, "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel:       45
    "Are you mad, you Malouins?  Are you cowards, fools, or rogues?
  Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell
  On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell
    'Twist the offing here and Grève, where the river disembogues?
  Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?         50
    Morn and eve, night and day,
    Have I piloted your bay,
  Entered free and anchored fast, at the foot of Solidor.
    Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues!
      Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's
        a way!                                                        55
  Only let me lead the line,
    Have the biggest ship to steer,
    Get this _Formidable_ clear,
  Make the others follow mine,
  And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,          60
    Right to Solidor past Grève,
      And there lay them safe and sound;
    And if one ship misbehave--
        Keel so much as grate the ground--
  Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries
    Hervé Riel.                                                       65

  Not a minute more to wait.
  "Steer us in, then, small and great!
    Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief.
  Captains, give the sailor place!
    He is Admiral, in brief.                                          70
  Still the north wind, by God's grace!
  See the noble fellow's face
  As the big ship, with a bound,
  Clears the entry like a hound.
  Keeps the passage, as its inch of way were the wide sea's
      profound!                                                       75
    See, safe through shoal and rock,
    How they follow in a flock,
  Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,
    Not a spar that comes to grief!
  The peril, see, is past,                                            80
  All are harboured to the last,
  And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate,
  Up the English come--too late.

  So, the storm subsides to calm:
    They see the green trees wave                                     85
    On the heights o'erlooking Grève.
  Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.
  "Just our rapture to enhance,
    Let the English rake the bay,
  Gnash their teeth and glare askance                                 90
    As they cannonade away!
  'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"
  How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!
  Out burst all with one accord,
    "This is Paradise for Hell!                                       95
    Let France, let France's King,
    Thank the man that did the thing!"
  What a shout, and all one word,
    "Hervé Riel!"
  As he stepped in front once more,                                  100
    Not a symptom of surprise
    In the frank, blue Breton eyes,
  Just the same man as before.

  Then said Damfreville, "My friend,
  I must speak out at the end,                                       105
    Though I find the speaking hard.
  Praise is deeper than the lips:
  You have saved the King his ships,
    You must name your own reward.
  'Faith, our sun was near eclipse!                                  110
  Demand whate'er you will,
  France remains your debtor still.
  Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville."

  Then a beam of fun outbroke
  On the bearded mouth that spoke,                                   115
  As the honest heart laughed through
  Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
  "Since I needs must say my say,
    Since on board the duty's done,
    And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?--    120
  Since 'tis ask and have, I may--
    Since the others go ashore--
  Come! A good whole holiday!
    Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"
    That he asked and that he got,--nothing more.                    125

  Name and deed alike are lost:
  Not a pillar nor a post
    In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;
  Not a head in white and black
  On a single fishing-smack,                                         130
  In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack
    All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.
  Go to Paris: rank on rank
    Search the heroes flung pell-mell
  On the Louvre, face and flank!                                     135
    You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel.
  So, for better and for worse,
  Hervé Riel, accept my verse!
  In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more
  Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the Belle
    Aurore!                                                          140

    --_Robert Browning_
         (_By permission of the owner of the copyright
             and Smith, Elder & Co._)


  PREPARATORY.--Narrate briefly the events of the poem and
  describe (_a_) the council, (_b_) the scene after the
  ships are safely anchored.

  How does this poem illustrate the truth that the highest
  motive in life is duty? From this standpoint compare
  Hervé Riel with Sir Richard Grenville in Tennyson's _The
  Revenge_.

  Give other examples to show that true nobility does not
  depend on such externals as rank and position.

  2. WOE TO FRANCE. How does the voice indicate that this
  phrase is parenthetical?

  4. What is the subject of PURSUE? Its object? How does
  the reader make the meaning clear?

  3-5. What is the Shading?

  8 and 14. Supply the ellipsis in each case. How is the
  reading affected by an ellipsis? (Introduction, p. 10.)

  12-14. What is the Stress? (Introduction, pp. 27 and
  28.)

  16-25. What energy characterizes these lines? With what
  Stress should they be read?

  TWELVE AND EIGHTY GUNS, TWENTY TONS. What is the
  difference in the Quality of voice? Compare MAN OF MARK,
  SIMPLE BRETON SAILOR, ll. 40 and 42.

  26. Where is the Pause? Why?

  Note the transitions in ll. 27, 31, 32, and 33. How is
  each one indicated?

  38. STOOD, STEPPED, STRUCK. Observe the increased
  Emphasis. Compare ll. 46 and 69.

  41-43. Note the contrast. What is the Inflection on each
  part? (Introduction, p. 20.)

  45-66. What state of mind does Hervé Riel's speech
  indicate throughout? What feelings predominate when he
  addresses (_a_) the Malouins, (_b_) the officers? What
  Time, Pitch, Force, and Stress are the natural
  expression?

  46. COWARDS, FOOLS, ROGUES. What is the Inflection on
  each word? (Introduction, p. 20.)

  65. KEEL SO MUCH, ETC. Note the Pause and Grouping.

  72, 73-76, 77-84. What is the predominant feeling in
  each passage?

  104-113. Compare the self-control of Damfreville's
  speech with the impulsive shout of the preceding stanza.
  What is the resulting difference in vocal expression?

  114-116. Note the Pause and Grouping.

  118-122. What is the Inflection? (Introduction, p. 17.)

  129-132. Observe the Grouping.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL

Daniel V


Belshazzar the king made a great feast to a thousand of his lords, and
drank wine before the thousand. Belshazzar, whiles he tasted the wine,
commanded to bring the golden and silver vessels which his father
Nebuchadnezzar had taken out of the temple which was in Jerusalem;
that the king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, might
drink therein. Then they brought the golden vessels that were taken
out of the temple of the house of God which was in Jerusalem; and the
king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, drank in them.
They drank wine, and praised the gods of gold, and of silver, of
brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone.

In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over
against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the king's
palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote. Then the
king's countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that
the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against
another. The king cried aloud to bring in the astrologers, the
Chaldeans, and the soothsayers. And the king spake, and said to the
wise men of Babylon, Whosoever shall read this writing, and shew me
the interpretation thereof, shall be clothed with scarlet, and have a
chain of gold about his neck, and shall be the third ruler in the
kingdom. Then came in all the king's wise men: but they could not read
the writing, nor make known to the king the interpretation thereof.
Then was the king Belshazzar greatly troubled, and his countenance was
changed in him, and his lords were astonied.

Now the queen by reason of the words of the king and his lords came
into the banquet house: and the queen spake and said, O king, live for
ever: let not thy thoughts trouble thee, nor let thy countenance be
changed: There is a man in thy kingdom, in whom is the spirit of the
holy gods; and in the days of thy father light and understanding and
wisdom, like the wisdom of the gods, was found in him; whom the king
Nebuchadnezzar thy father, the king, I say, thy father, made master of
the magicians, astrologers, Chaldeans, and soothsayers; Forasmuch as
an excellent spirit and knowledge and understanding, interpreting of
dreams, and shewing of hard sentences, and dissolving of doubts, were
found in the same Daniel, whom the king named Belteshazzar: now let
Daniel be called, and he will shew the interpretation.

Then was Daniel brought in before the king. And the king spake and
said unto Daniel, Art thou that Daniel, which art of the children of
the captivity of Judah, whom the king my father brought out of Jewry?
I have even heard of thee, that the spirit of the gods is in thee, and
that light and understanding and excellent wisdom is found in thee.
And now the wise men, the astrologers, have been brought in before me,
that they should read this writing, and make known unto me the
interpretation thereof: but they could not shew the interpretation of
the thing: And I have heard of thee, that thou canst make
interpretations, and dissolve doubts: now if thou canst read the
writing, and make known to me the interpretation thereof, thou shalt
be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold about thy neck, and
shalt be the third ruler in the kingdom.

Then Daniel answered and said before the king, Let thy gifts be to
thyself, and give thy reward to another; yet I will read the writing
unto the king, and make known to him the interpretation. O thou king,
the most high God gave Nebuchadnezzar thy father a kingdom, and
majesty, and glory, and honour: And for the majesty that he gave him,
all people, nations, and languages, trembled and feared before him:
whom he would he slew; and whom he would he kept alive; and whom he
would he set up; and whom he would he put down. But when his heart was
lifted up, and his mind hardened in pride, he was deposed from his
kingly throne, and they took his glory from him: And he was driven
from the sons of men; and his heart was made like the beasts, and his
dwelling was with the wild asses: they fed him with grass like oxen,
and his body was wet with the dew of heaven; till he knew that the
most high God ruled in the kingdom of men, and that he appointeth over
it whomsoever he will. And thou, his son, O Belshazzar, hast not
humbled thine heart, though thou knewest all this; But has lifted up
thyself against the Lord of heaven; and they have brought the vessels
of his house before thee, and thou, and thy lords, thy wives, and thy
concubines, have drunk wine in them; and thou hast praised the gods of
silver, of gold, of brass, iron, wood, and stone, which see not, nor
hear, nor know: and the God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose are
all thy ways, hast thou not glorified: Then was the part of the hand
sent from him; and this writing was written.

And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN.
This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered thy
kingdom, and finished it. TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and
art found wanting. PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the
Medes and Persians. Then commanded Belshazzar, and they clothed Daniel
with scarlet, and put a chain of gold about his neck, and made a
proclamation concerning him, that he should be the third ruler in the
kingdom.

In that night was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain. And
Darius the Median took the kingdom, being about threescore and two
years old.


  Give a dramatic form to this extract, indicating by
  suitable titles the various scenes suggested and the
  parts that would properly belong to the scenery, the
  action, and the dialogue respectively. The different
  parts may be read by different readers before one reader
  attempts all the parts.

       *       *       *       *       *


PAUL'S DEFENCE BEFORE KING AGRIPPA

Acts xxvi


1. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak for
thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand, and answered for himself:
I think myself happy, King Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself
this day before thee touching all the things whereof I am accused of
the Jews: especially because I know thee to be expert in all customs
and questions which are among the Jews: wherefore I beseech thee to
hear me patiently.

2. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first among mine
own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews; which knew me from the
beginning, if they would testify, that after the most straitest sect
of our religion I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and am judged for
the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers: unto which
promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope
to come. For which hope's sake, King Agrippa, I am accused of the
Jews.

3. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God
should raise the dead? I verily thought with myself, that I ought to
do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing
I also did in Jerusalem: and many of the saints did I shut up in
prison, having received authority from the chief priests; and when
they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished
them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme; and
being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto
strange cities.

4. Whereupon as I went to Damascus with authority and commission from
the chief priests, at midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from
heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and
them which journeyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the
earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew
tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to
kick against the pricks. And I said, Who art thou, Lord? And he said,
I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet:
for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a
minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and
of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; delivering thee
from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to
open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the
power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins,
and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in
me.

5. Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly
vision: but shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and
throughout all the coasts of Judæa, and then to the Gentiles, that
they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance.
For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to
kill me. Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this
day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than
those which the prophets and Moses did say should come: that Christ
should suffer, and that he should be the first that should rise from
the dead, and should shew light unto the people, and to the Gentiles.

6. And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud voice,
Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad. But
he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of
truth and soberness. For the king knoweth of these things, before whom
also I speak freely: for I am persuaded that none of these things are
hidden from him; for this thing was not done in a corner. King
Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest.
Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me to be a
Christian. And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also
all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I
am, except these bonds.

7. And when he had thus spoken, the king rose up, and the governor,
and Bernice, and they that sat with them: And when they were gone
aside, they talked between themselves, saying, This man doeth nothing
worthy of death or of bonds. Then said Agrippa unto Festus, This man
might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Cæsar.


  PREPARATORY.--Under what circumstances did Paul deliver
  this defence? Picture the scene.

  What attitude of mind characterizes the chief speaker?
  How does this affect the reading?

  How are the direct speeches in Pars. 1, 4, 6, and 7 made
  to stand out from the narrative? (Introduction, p. 24.)

  How do the mental and emotional states of the various
  speakers differ? Indicate this difference by the Quality
  of the voice. (Introduction, p. 34.)

  Point out the Climax in Par. 3. How does the voice
  express it?

  IF THEY WOULD TESTIFY. What change in the voice
  subordinates this clause? (Introduction, p. 33.) Give
  another example from Par. 2.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE STRANDED SHIP


  Far up the lonely strand the storm had lifted her.
  And now along her keel the merry tides make stir
  No more. The running waves that sparkled at her prow
  Seethe to the chains and sing no more with laughter now.
  No more the clean sea-furrow follows her. No more
  To the hum of her gallant tackle the hale Nor'-westers roar.
  No more her bulwarks journey. For the only boon they crave
  Is the guerdon of all good ships and true, the boon of
    a deep-sea grave.

    _Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
    To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned,
    Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
    Far below the keels of the outward bound._

  No more she mounts the circles from Fundy to the Horn,
  From Cuba to the Cape runs down the tropic morn,
  Explores the Vast Uncharted where great bergs ride in ranks,
  Nor shouts a broad "Ahoy" to the dories on the Banks.
  No more she races freights to Zanzibar and back,
  Nor creeps where the fog lies blind along the liner's track,
  No more she dares the cyclone's disastrous core of calm
  To greet across the dropping wave the amber isles of palm.

    _Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
    To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned,
    Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
    Far below the keels of the outward bound._

  Amid her trafficking peers, the wind-wise, journeyed ships,
  At the black wharves no more, nor at the weedy slips,
  She comes to port with cargo from many a storied clime.
  No more to the rough-throat chantey her windlass creaks in time.
  No more she loads for London with spices from Ceylon,--
  With white spruce deals and wheat and apples from St. John.
  No more from Pernambuco with cotton-bales,--no more
  With hides from Buenos Ayres she clears for Baltimore.

    _Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
    To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned,
    Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
    Far below the keels of the outward bound._

  Wan with the slow vicissitudes of wind and rain and sun
  How grieves her deck for the sailors whose hearty brawls are done!
  Only the wandering gull brings word of the open wave,
  With shrill scream at her taffrail deriding her alien grave.
  Around the keel that raced the dolphin and the shark
  Only the sand-wren twitters from barren dawn till dark;
  And all the long blank noon the blank sand chafes and mars
  The prow once swift to follow the lure of the dancing stars.

    _Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
    To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned,
    Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
    Far below the keels of the outward bound._

  And when the winds are low, and when the tides are still,
  And the round moon rises inland over the naked hill,
  And o'er her parching seams the dry cloud-shadows pass,
  And dry along the land-rim lie the shadows of thin grass,
  Then aches her soul with longing to launch and sink away
  Where the fine silts lift and settle, and sea-things drift
    and stray,
  To make the port of Last Desire, and slumber with her peers
  In the tide-wash rocking softly through the unnumbered years.

    _Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound,
    To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned,
    Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound,
    Far below the keels of the outward bound._

      --_Charles G. D. Roberts (By arrangement)_


  PREPARATORY.--What is the fundamental idea of the first
  three stanzas? Of the fourth stanza? Of the last stanza?
  Of the refrain? Apply these ideas to human life? What
  feelings do they arouse? Show that these feelings grow
  stronger as the poem advances.

  What Time, Pitch, and Stress are the natural expression
  of the atmosphere pervading the poem? Where are they
  most marked?

  What effect has the atmosphere of the last stanza on the
  Quality of the voice?

  HER, STIR. (Appendix A, 10.)

  STRAND, FAR, CALM, BRAWLS. Distinguish the sound of _a_
  in these words, and select other words from the poem
  with the same sound. (Appendix A, 1.)

  What is the Inflection on the negative statements in the
  first three stanzas? On the entreaty in the refrain?
  (Introduction, p. 18.)

  What effect do the falling Inflection, and the marked
  Pause after MORE, l. 3, stanza 1 produce?

  AND WHEN THE WINDS ... GRASS. What is the Inflection?
  What is the Shading when compared with the next line?

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR PATRICK SPENS


  The king sits, in Dunfermline toun,
  Drinking the blude-red wine;
  "O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
  To sail this new ship o' mine?"

  O up and spake an eldern knight,
  Sat at the king's right knee,--
  "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
  That ever sailed the sea."

  The king has written a braid letter,
  And sealed it wi' his hand,
  And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
  Was walking on the strand.

  "To Noroway, to Noroway,
  To Noroway o'er the faem;
  The king's daughter of Noroway,
  'Tis thou maun bring her hame."

  The first word that Sir Patrick read,
  Sae loud, loud laughèd he;
  The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
  The tear blindit his e'e.

  "O wha is this has done this deed,
  And tauld the king o'me,
  To send us out, this time o' the year,
  To sail upon the sea?

  Be't wind, be't weet, be't hail, be't sleet,
  Our ship must sail the faem;
  The king's daughter of Noroway,
  'Tis we must fetch her hame."

  They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
  Wi' a' the speed they may;
  They hae landed in Noroway,
  Upon a Wodensday.

  They hadna been a week, a week,
  In Noroway, but twae,
  When that the lords o' Noroway
  Began aloud to say,--

  "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
  And a' our queenis fee."
  "Ye lee, ye lee, ye lears loud!
  Fu' loud I hear ye lee!

  For I brought as mickle white monie,
  As gane my men and me,
  And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,
  Out o'er the sea wi' me.

  Mak' ready, mak' ready, my merry men a'!
  Our gude ship sails the morn."
  "Now, ever alake, my master dear,
  I fear a deadly storm!

  I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
  Wi' the auld moon in her arm!
  And, if we gang to sea, master,
  I fear we'll come to harm."

  They hadna sailed a league, a league,
  A league, but barely three,
  When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
  And gurly grew the sea.

  The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
  It was sic a deadly storm;
  And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship,
  Till a' her sides were torn.

  "O whare will I get a gude sailor,
  To tak' my helm in hand,
  Till I gae up to the tall topmast,
  To see if I spy land?"

  "O here am I, a sailor gude,
  To tak' the helm in hand,
  Till you gae up to the tall topmast;
  But I fear ye'll ne'er spy land."

  He hadna gane a step, a step,
  A step, but barely ane,
  When a bolt flew out o' our goodly ship,
  And the salt sea it cam' in.

  "Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith,
  Anither o' the twine,
  And wap them into our ship's side,
  And letna the sea come in."

  They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
  Anither o' the twine,
  And they wapped them roun' that gude ship's side,
  But still the sea cam' in.

  O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords,
  To weet their cork-heeled shoon!
  But lang or a' the play was played,
  They wat their hats aboon.

  And mony was the feather-bed,
  That floated o'er the faem;
  And mony was the gude lord's son,
  That never mair cam' hame.

  The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
  The maidens tore their hair,
  A' for the sake of their true loves;
  For them they'll see na mair.

  O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
  Wi' their fans into their hand,
  Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
  Come sailing to the strand!

  And lang, lang may the maidens sit,
  Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
  A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
  For them they'll see na mair.

  Half ower, half ower to Aberdour,
  'Tis fifty fathoms deep,
  And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
  Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.

     --_Old Ballad_


  Into how many different scenes does this drama fall?
  Where is each one laid? How can each one be made to
  stand out by itself? (Introduction, p. 10.)

       *       *       *       *       *


KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY


  An ancient story Ile tell you anon.
  Of a notable prince, that was called king John;
  And he ruled England with maine and with might,
  For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.

  And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye,
  Concerning the Abbot of Canterbùrye;
  How for his house-keeping, and high renowne,
  They rode poste for him to fair London towne.

  An hundred men, the king did heare say,
  The abbot kept in his house every day;
  And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt,
  In velvet coates waited the abbot about.

  "How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee,
  Thou keepest a farre better house than mee,
  And for thy house-keeping and high renowne,
  I feare thou work'st treason against my crown."

  "My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne,
  I never spend nothing, but what is my owne;
  And I trust, your grace will doe me no deere,
  For spending of my owne true-gotten geere."

  "Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe,
  And now for the same thou needest must dye;
  For except thou canst answer me questions three,
  Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.

  And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead,
  With my crowne of golde so faire on my head,
  Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,
  Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe.

  Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt,
  How soone I may ride the whole world about.
  And at the third question thou must not shrink,
  But tell me here truly what do I think."

  "O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt,
  Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet:
  But if you will give me but three weekes space,
  Ile do my endeavour to answer your grace."

  "Now three weeks space to thee will I give,
  And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
  For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
  Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee."

  Away rode the abbot all sad at that word,
  And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford;
  But never a doctor there was so wise,
  That could with his learning an answer devise.

  Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold,
  And he mett his shepheard a going to fold:
  "How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home;
  What newes do you bring us from good king John?"

  "Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give;
  That I have but three days more to live:
  For if I do not answer him questions three,
  My head will be smitten from my bodie.

  The first is to tell him, there in that stead,
  With his crowne of golde so fair on his head,
  Among all his liege-men so noble of birth,
  To within one penny of what he is worth.

  The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt,
  How soon he may ride this whole world about:
  And at the third question I must not shrinke,
  But tell him there truly what he does thinke."

  "Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet,
  That a fool he may learn a wise man witt?
  Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel,
  And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel.

  Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee,
  I am like your lordship, as ever may bee:
  And if you will but lend me your gowne,
  There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne."

  "Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have,
  With sumptuous array most gallant and brave;
  With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,
  Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope."

  "Now welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say,
  "Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day;
  For and if thou canst answer my questions three,
  Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.

  And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,
  With my crown of golde so faire on my head,
  Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,
  Tell me to one penny what I am worth."

  "For thirty pence our Saviour was sold
  Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told;
  And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,
  For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee."

  The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,
  "I did not thinke I had been worth so littel!
  --Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,
  How soone I may ride this whole world about."

  "You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
  Until the next morning he riseth againe;
  And then your grace need not make any doubt,
  But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."

  The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,
  "I did not think, it could be gone so soone!
  --Now from the third question thou must not shrinke,
  But tell me here truly what I do thinke."

  "Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry:
  You thinke I'm the Abbot of Canterbùry;
  But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see,
  That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee."

  The king he laughed, and swore "by the masse,
  He make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"
  "Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede,
  For alacke I can neither write ne reade."

  "Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee,
  For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee;
  And tell the old abbot when thou comest home,
  Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John."

      --_Old Ballad_


  PREPARATORY.--Divide this poem into three dramatic
  scenes. Who are the actors in each scene?

  What is the king's attitude toward the abbot in the
  first scene? Toward the supposed abbot in the third
  scene? Where does this attitude suddenly change? Show at
  what points this changed attitude gradually increases in
  strength and where it reaches its climax. Indicate these
  changes by means of the voice.

  What is the abbot's attitude toward the king in the
  first scene? How does it differ from his attitude toward
  the shepherd? What is the difference in vocal
  expression?

  Where does the shepherd's attitude toward the king
  change? How does the voice indicate this change?

       *       *       *       *       *


THE KEY TO HUMAN HAPPINESS

From "The Mill on the Floss"


1. At last Maggie's eyes glanced down on the books that lay on the
window-shelf, and she half forsook her reverie to turn over listlessly
the leaves of the "Portrait Gallery"; but she soon pushed this aside
to examine the little row of books tied together with, string.
"Beauties of the Spectator", "Rasselas", "Economy of Human Life",
"Gregory's Letters",--she knew the sort of matter that was inside all
these; the "Christian Year"--that seemed to be a hymn-book, and she
laid it down again; but "Thomas à Kempis"--the name had come across
her in her reading, and she felt the satisfaction, which every one
knows, of getting some ideas to attach to a name that strays solitary
in the memory. She took up the little, old, clumsy book with some
curiosity; it had the corners turned down in many places, and some
hand, now for ever quiet, had made at certain passages strong
pen-and-ink marks, long since browned by time. Maggie turned from leaf
to leaf, and read where the quiet hand pointed ... "Know that the love
of thyself doth hurt thee more than anything in the world.... If thou
seekest this or that, and would'st be here or there to enjoy thy own
will and pleasure, thou shalt never be quiet nor free from care; for
in everything somewhat will be wanting, and in every place there will
be some that will cross thee.... Both above and below, which way
soever thou dost turn thee, everywhere thou shalt find the Cross; and
everywhere of necessity thou must have patience, if thou wilt have
inward peace, and enjoy an everlasting crown.... It is but little thou
sufferest in comparison of them that have suffered so much, were so
strongly tempted, so grievously afflicted, so many ways tried and
exercised. Thou oughtest therefore to call to mind the more heavy
sufferings of others, that thou mayest the easier bear thy little
adversities. And if they seem not little unto thee, beware lest thy
impatience be the cause thereof.... Blessed are those ears that
receive the whispers of the divine voice, and listen not to the
whisperings of the world. Blessed are those ears which hearken not
unto the voice which soundeth outwardly, but unto the Truth which
teacheth inwardly...."

2. A strange thrill of awe passed through Maggie while she read, as if
she had been awakened in the night by a strain of solemn music,
telling of beings whose souls had been astir while hers was in stupor.
She went on from one brown mark to another, where the quiet hand
seemed to point, hardly conscious that she was reading--seeming rather
to listen while a low voice said:--

3. "Why dost thou here gaze about, since this is not the place of thy
rest? In heaven ought to be thy dwelling, and all earthly things are
to be looked on as they forward thy journey thither. All things pass
away, and thou together with them. Beware thou cleave not unto them,
lest thou be entangled and perish.... If a man should give all his
substance yet it is as nothing. And, if he should do great penances,
yet they are but little. And if he should attain to all knowledge, he
is yet far off. And if he should be of great virtue, and very fervent
devotion, yet is there much wanting--to wit, one thing, which is most
necessary for him. What is that? That having left all, he leave
himself, and go wholly out of himself, and retain nothing of
self-love.... I have often said unto thee, and now again I say the
same: Forsake thyself, resign thyself, and thou shalt enjoy much
inward peace.... Then shall all vain imaginations, evil perturbations,
and superfluous cares fly away; then shall immoderate fear leave thee,
and inordinate love shall die."

4. Maggie drew a long breath and pushed her heavy hair back as if to
see a sudden vision more clearly. Here, then, was a secret of life
that would enable her to renounce all other secrets; here was a
sublime height to be reached without the help of outward things; here
was insight, and strength and conquest, to be won by means entirely
within her own soul, where a supreme Teacher was waiting to be heard.
It flashed through her, like the suddenly apprehended solution of a
problem, that all the miseries of her young life had come from fixing
her heart on her own pleasure, as if that were the central necessity
of the universe; and for the first time she saw the possibility of
shifting the position from which she looked at the gratification of
her own desires, of taking her stand out of herself, and looking at
her own life as an insignificant part of a divinely-guided whole. She
read on and on in the old book, devouring eagerly the dialogues with
the invisible Teacher, the pattern of sorrow, the source of all
strength, returning to it after she had been called away, and reading
till the sun went down behind the willows. With all the hurry of an
imagination that could never rest in the present, she sat in the
deepening twilight forming plans of self-humiliation and entire
devotedness; and, in the ardour of first discovery, renunciation
seemed to her the entrance into that satisfaction which she had so
long been craving in vain. She had not perceived--how could she until
she had lived longer?--the inmost truth of the old monk's outpourings,
that renunciation remains sorrow, though a sorrow borne willingly.
Maggie was still panting for happiness, and was in ecstasy because she
had found the key to it. She knew nothing of doctrines and systems--of
mysticism or quietism; but this voice out of the far-off Middle Ages
was the direct communication of a human soul's belief and experience,
and came to Maggie as an unquestioned message.

5. I suppose that is the reason why the small, old-fashioned book, for
which you need pay only sixpence at a book-stall, works miracles to
this day, turning bitter waters into sweetness; while expensive
sermons and treatises, newly issued, leave all things as they were
before. It was written down by a hand that waited for the heart's
prompting; it is the chronicle of a solitary hidden anguish, struggle,
trust, and triumph--not written on velvet cushions to teach endurance
to those who are treading with bleeding feet on the stones. And so it
remains to all time a lasting record of human needs and human
consolations--the voice of a brother who, ages ago, felt and suffered
and renounced in the cloister, perhaps, with serge gown and tonsured
head, with much chanting and long fasts, and with a fashion of speech
different from ours, but under the same silent far-off heavens, and
with the same passionate desires, the same strivings, the same
failures, the same weariness.

     --_George Eliot_


  Par. 1. IF THOU SEEKEST ... PLEASURE. What principle of
  Inflection does this clause illustrate? Give similar
  examples from Par. 3.

  BOTH ABOVE AND BELOW ... EVERYWHERE. Which phrase in
  this series has the strongest Emphasis?

  THOU SUFFEREST. Which word is emphatic? (Introduction,
  p. 30.) What phrases are contrasted with it?

  Account for the Inflection used in the last two
  sentences. (Introduction, p. 20.)

  Par. 4. Indicate the Grouping in sentences 3 and 5.

  HOW COULD SHE, ETC. What is the Inflection and Shading?
  (Introduction, pp. 24 and 25.)

  Par. 5. What is the Inflection on NOT WRITTEN ...
  STONES? (Introduction p. 18.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL

PART FIRST


  "My golden spurs now bring to me,
    And bring to me my richest mail,
  For to-morrow I go over land and sea
    In search of the Holy Grail;
  Shall never a bed for me be spread,                                  5
  Nor shall a pillow be under my head,
  Till I begin my vow to keep;
  Here on the rushes will I sleep,
  And perchance there may come a vision true
  Ere day create the world anew."                                     10
    Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim,
    Slumber fell like a cloud on him,
  And into his soul the vision flew.

  The crows flapped over by twos and threes,
  In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees,                   15
    The little birds sang as if it were
    The one day of summer in all the year,
  And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees.
  The castle alone in the landscape lay
  Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray:                           20

  'Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree,
  And never its gates might opened be,
  Save to lord or lady of high degree;
  Summer besieged it on every side,
  But the churlish stone her assaults defied;                         25
  She could not scale the chilly wall,
  Though round it for leagues her pavilions tall
  Stretched left and right,
  Over the hills and out of sight;
    Green and broad was every tent,                                   30
    And out of each a murmur went
  Till the breeze fell off at night.
  The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang,
  And through the dark arch a charger sprang,
  Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight,                             35
  In his gilded mail that flamed so bright
  It seemed the dark castle had gathered all
  Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall
    In his siege of three hundred summers long,
  And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf,                         40
    Had cast them forth: so, young and strong,
  And lightsome as a locust leaf,
  Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail,
  To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail.

  It was morning on hill and stream and tree                          45
    And morning in the young knight's heart;
  Only the castle moodily
  Rebuffed the gift of the sunshine free,
    And gloomed by itself apart;
  The season brimmed all other things up                              50
  Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup.

  As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate
    He was 'ware of a leper, crouched by the same,
  Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate;
    And a loathing over Sir Launfal came;                             55
  The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill,
    The flesh 'neath his armour 'gan shrink and crawl,
  And midway its leap his heart stood still
    Like a frozen waterfall;
  For this man, so foul and bent of stature,                          60
  Rasped harshly against his dainty nature,
  And seemed the one blot on the summer morn,--
  So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn.

  The leper raised not the gold from the dust:
  "Better to me the poor man's crust,                                 65
  Better the blessing of the poor,
  Though I turn me empty from his door;
  That is no true alms which the hand can hold;
  He gives nothing but worthless gold
    Who gives from a sense of duty;                                   70
  But he who gives a slender mite,
  And gives to that which is out of sight,
    That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty
  Which runs through all and doth all unite,--
  The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms,                        75
  The heart outstretches its eager palms,
  For a god goes with it and makes it store
  To the soul that was starving in darkness before."


PART SECOND

  There was never a leaf on bush or tree,
  The bare boughs rattled shudderingly;                               80
  The river was numb and could not speak,
    For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun;
  A single crow on the tree-top bleak
    From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun;
  Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold                           85
  As if her veins were sapless and old,
  And she rose up decrepitly
  For a last dim look at earth and sea.

  Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate,
  For another heir in his earldom sate;                               90
  An old, bent man, worn out and frail,
  He came back from seeking the Holy Grail;
  Little he recked of his earldom's loss,
  No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross,
  But deep in his soul the sign he wore,                              95
  The badge of the suffering and the poor.

  Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare
  Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air,
  For it was just at the Christmas time;
  So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime,                        100
  And sought for a shelter from cold and snow
  In the light and warmth of long-ago:
  He sees the snake-like caravan crawl
  O'er the edge of the desert, black and small.
  Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one,                          105
  He can count the camels in the sun,
  As over the red-hot sands they pass
  To where, in its slender necklace of grass,
  The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade,
  And with its own self like an infant played,                       110
  And waved its signal of palms.
  "For Christ's sweet sake I beg an alms;"--
  The happy camels may reach the spring,
  But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing,
  The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone,                         115
  That cowers beside him, a thing as lone
  And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas
  In the desolate horror of his disease.

  And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee
  An image of Him who died on the tree;                              120
  Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns,
  Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns,
  And to thy life were not denied
  The wounds in the hands and feet and side:
  Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me;                                   125
  Behold, through him, I give to thee!"

  Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes
    And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he
  Remembered in what a haughtier guise
    He had flung an alms to leprosie,                                130
  When he girt his young life up in gilded mail
  And set forth in search of the Holy Grail.
  The heart within him was ashes and dust;
  He parted in twain his single crust,
  He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink,                         135
  And gave the leper to eat and drink:
  'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread,
    'Twas water out of a wooden bowl,--
  Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed,
    And 'twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul.               140

  As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face,
  A light shone round about the place;
  The leper no longer crouched at his side,
  But stood before him glorified,
  Shining and tall and fair and straight                             145
  As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,--
  Himself the Gate whereby men can
  Enter the temple of God in Man.

  His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine,
  And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,                150
  Which mingle their softness and quiet in one
  With the shaggy unrest they float down upon:
  And the voice that was calmer than silence said:
  "Lo it is I, be not afraid!
  In many climes, without avail,                                     155
  Thou has spent thy life for the Holy Grail;
  Behold it is here,--this cup which thou
  Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now;
  This crust is my body broken for thee,
  This water His blood that died on the tree;                        160
  The Holy Supper is kept, indeed,
  In whatso we share with another's need;
  Not what we give, but what we share,--
  For the gift without the giver is bare;
  Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,--                     165
  Himself, his hungering neighbour, and me."

  Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound:--
  "The Grail in my castle here is found!
  Hang my idle armour up on the wall,
  Let it be the spider's banquet-hall;                               170
  He must be fenced with stronger mail
  Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."

  The castle gate stands open now,
    And the wanderer is welcome to the hall
  As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough;                          175
    No longer scowl the turrets tall,
  The Summer's long siege at last is o'er;
  When the first poor outcast went in at the door,
  She entered with him in disguise,
  And mastered the fortress by surprise;                             180
  There is no spot she loves so well on ground,
  She lingers and smiles there the whole year round.
  The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land
  Has hall and bower at his command;
  And there's no poor man in the North Countree                      185
  But is lord of the earldom as much as he.

      --_James Russell Lowell_


  PREPARATORY.--Read Tennyson's _The Holy Grail_.

  Compare the mode in which Tennyson treats the pursuit of
  the Holy Grail, in _Sir Galahad_, with that adopted by
  Lowell in this poem.

  Show the connection between the fundamental ideas in
  this poem, and those in Longfellow's _King Robert of
  Sicily_ and _The Legend Beautiful_.

  Point out the various contrasts (_a_) of scene, (_b_) of
  thought, (_c_) of emotion, and show a corresponding
  contrast in vocal expression.

  Articulation. (Appendix A, 1 and 11.)

  5 and 6. What is the Inflection?

  11. What changes of vocal expression accompany the
  transition?

  14-20. Note the word-pictures and the effect of the
  Imaging process on the Time.

  22. What is the Inflection on BE?

  27-29 and 37-39. Observe the Grouping, Pause, and
  Inflection.

  41. HAD CAST THEM FORTH. With what phrase is this
  parallel? How does the voice express the parallelism?

  42-44. Which line expresses the main thought? How is it
  made prominent? (Introduction, p. 33.)

  51. Where is the Pause?

  65-67. Show the relative importance of the emphatic
  words and phrases. (Introduction, pp. 30 and 31.)

  69-78. Read these lines with a view to (_a_)
  Perspective, (_b_) Inflection.

  91. OLD, BENT. Account for the pause between these two
  adjectives. (Introduction, pp. 7 and 8.)

  95. What is the emphatic word? Why?

  107-111. Note the difference in the sound of the letter
  _a_ in the various words.

  119-126. What feeling predominates? How are the Force,
  Pitch, and Time affected?

  137-140. How does the voice indicate the contrast
  between the meagre and the sumptuous? (Introduction, pp.
  34 and 35.)

  141-142. Note the transition from the subjective to the
  objective. How is it indicated in reading?

  154-166. What atmosphere pervades this speech? What
  Quality of voice suggests it? (Introduction, p. 35.)

  167. Note the transition. What movement is suggested?
  What is the Stress and Quality of voice?

  168-172. What state of mind does this speech suggest?
  What is the change in Stress and Quality?

       *       *       *       *       *


ON THE DEATH OF GLADSTONE

Delivered in the Canadian House of Commons, May 26, 1898


England has lost the most illustrious of her sons; but the loss is not
England's alone, nor is it confined to the great empire which
acknowledges England's suzerainty, nor even to the proud race which
can claim kinship with the people of England. The loss is the loss of
mankind. Mr. Gladstone gave his whole life to his country; but the
work which he did for his country, was conceived and carried out, on
principles of such high elevation, for purposes so noble, and aims so
lofty, that not his country alone, but the whole of mankind, benefited
by his work. It is no exaggeration to say that he has raised the
standard of civilization, and the world to-day is undoubtedly better
for both the precept and the example of his life.

His death is mourned not only by England, the land of his birth, not
only by Scotland, the land of his ancestors, not only by Ireland for
whom he did so much, and attempted so much more; but also by the
people of the two Sicilies, for whose outraged rights he once aroused
the conscience of Europe, by the people of the Ionian Islands, whose
independence he secured, and by the people of Bulgaria and the
Danubian Provinces, in whose cause he enlisted the sympathy of his own
native country. Indeed, since the days of Napoleon, no man has lived
whose name has travelled so far and so wide, over the surface of the
earth; no man has lived whose name alone so deeply moved the hearts of
so many millions of men. Whereas Napoleon impressed his tremendous
personality upon peoples far and near, by the strange fascination
which the genius of war has always exercised over the imagination of
men in all lands and in all ages, the name of Gladstone had come to be
in the minds of all civilized nations, the living incarnation of right
against might--the champion, the dauntless, tireless champion, of the
oppressed against the oppressor. It is, I believe, equally true to say
that he was the most marvellous mental organization which the world
has seen since Napoleon--certainly the most compact, the most active
and the most universal.

This last half century in which we live, has produced many able and
strong men who, in different walks of life, have attracted the
attention of the world at large; and of the men who have illustrated
this age, it seems to me that in the eyes of posterity four will
outlive and outshine all others--Cavour, Lincoln, Bismarck, and
Gladstone. If we look simply at the magnitude of the results obtained,
compared with the exiguity of the resources at command,--if we
remember that out of the small Kingdom of Sardinia grew united Italy,
we must come to the conclusion that Count Cavour was undoubtedly a
statesman of marvellous skill and prescience. Abraham Lincoln, unknown
to fame when he was elected to the presidency, exhibited a power for
the government of men which has scarcely been surpassed in any age. He
saved the American Union, he enfranchised the black race, and for the
task he had to perform he was endowed in some respects almost
miraculously. No man ever displayed a greater insight into the
motives, the complex motives, which shape the public opinion of a free
country, and he possessed almost to the degree of an instinct, the
supreme quality in a statesman of taking the right decision, taking it
at the right moment and expressing it in language of incomparable
felicity. Prince Bismarck was the embodiment of resolute common sense,
unflinching determination, relentless strength, moving onward to his
end, and crushing everything in his way as unconcerned as fate itself.
Mr. Gladstone undoubtedly excelled every one of these men. He had in
his person a combination of varied powers of the human intellect,
rarely to be found in one single individual. He had the imaginative
fancy, the poetic conception of things, in which Count Cavour was
deficient. He had the aptitude for business, the financial ability
which Lincoln never exhibited. He had the lofty impulses, the generous
inspirations which Prince Bismarck always discarded, even if he did
not treat them with scorn. He was at once an orator, a statesman, a
poet, and a man of business. As an orator he stands certainly in the
very front rank of orators of his country or any country of his age or
any age. I remember when Louis Blanc was in England, in the days of
the Second Empire, he used to write to the press of Paris, and in one
of his letters to "Le Temps" he stated that Mr. Gladstone would
undoubtedly have been the foremost orator of England, if it were not
for the existence of Mr. Bright. It may be admitted, and I think it is
admitted generally, that on some occasions Mr. Bright reached heights
of grandeur and pathos which even Mr. Gladstone did not attain. But
Mr. Gladstone had an ability, a vigour, a fluency which no man in his
age or any age ever rivalled or even approached. That is not all. To
his marvellous mental powers he added no less marvellous physical
gifts. He had the eye of a god, the voice of a silver bell; and the
very fire of his eye, the very music of his voice swept the hearts of
men even before they had been dazzled by the torrents of his
eloquence.

As a statesman, it was the good fortune of Mr. Gladstone that his
career was not associated with war. The reforms which he effected, the
triumphs which he achieved, were not won by the supreme arbitrament of
the sword. The reforms which he effected and the triumphs which he
achieved were the result of his power of persuasion over his
fellow-men. The reforms which he achieved in many ways amounted to a
revolution. They changed, in many particulars, the face of the realm.
After Sir Robert Peel had adopted the great principle which eventually
carried England from protection to free trade, it was Mr. Gladstone
who created the financial system which has been admitted ever since by
all students of finance, as the secret of Great Britain's commercial
success. He enforced the extension of the suffrage to the masses of
the nation, and practically thereby made the government of monarchical
England as democratic as that of any republic. He disestablished the
Irish church, he introduced reform into the land tenure and brought
hope into the breasts of those tillers of the soil in Ireland who had
for so many generations laboured in despair. And all this he did, not
by force or violence, but simply by the power of his eloquence and the
strength of his personality.

Great, however, as were the acts of the man, after all he was of the
human flesh, and for him, as for everybody else, there were trivial
and low duties to be performed. It is no exaggeration to say that even
in those low and trivial duties he was great. He ennobled the common
realities of life. His was above all things a religious
mind--essentially religious in the highest sense of the term. And the
religious sentiment which dominated his public life and his speeches,
that same sentiment, according to the testimony of those who knew him
best, also permeated all his actions from the highest to the humblest.
He was a man of strong and pure affections, of long and lasting
friendship, and to describe the beauty of his domestic life, no words
of praise can be adequate. It was simply ideally beautiful, and in the
later years of his life, as touching as it was beautiful. May I be
permitted, without any impropriety, to recall that it was my privilege
to experience and to appreciate that courtesy, made up of dignity and
grace, which was famous all the world over, but of which no one could
have an appropriate opinion, unless he had been the recipient of it.
In a character so complex and diversified, one may ask what was the
dominant feature, what was the supreme quality, the one characteristic
which marked the nature of the man. Was it his incomparable genius for
finance? Was it his splendid oratorical powers? Was it his marvellous
fecundity of mind? In my estimation it was not any one of these
qualities. Great as they were, there was one still more marked, and if
I have to give my own impression, I would say that the one trait which
was dominant in his nature, which marked the man more distinctly than
any other, was his intense humanity, his paramount sense of right, his
abhorrence of injustice, wrong, and oppression wherever to be found or
in whatever shape they might show themselves. Injustice, wrong,
oppression acted upon him, as it were, mechanically, and aroused every
fibre of his being, and from that moment to the repairing of the
injustice, the undoing of the wrong, and the destruction of the
oppression, he gave his mind, his heart, his soul, his whole life with
an energy, with an intensity, with a vigour paralleled in no man
unless it be the first Napoleon. There are many evidences of this in
his life. When he was travelling in Southern Italy, as a tourist, for
pleasure and for the benefit of the health of his family, he became
aware of the abominable system which was there prevailing under the
name of Constitutional Government. He left everything aside, even the
object which had brought him to Italy, and applied himself to
investigate and to collect evidence, and then denounced the abominable
system in a trumpet blast of such power that it shook to its very
foundations the throne of King Ferdinand and sent it tottering to its
fall. Again, when he was sent as High Commissioner to the Ionian
Islands, the injustice of keeping this Hellenic population separated
from the rest of Greece, separated from the kingdom to which they were
adjacent, and toward which all their aspirations were raised, struck
his generous soul with such force that he became practically their
advocate, and secured their independence. Again, when he had
withdrawn from public life, and when, in the language of Thiers, under
somewhat similar circumstances, he had returned to "ses chères
études," the atrocities perpetrated by the Turks on the people of
Roumania brought him back to public life with a vehemence, an
impetuosity, and a torrent of fierce indignation that swept everything
before it. If this be, as I think it is, the one distinctive feature
of his character, it seems to explain away what are called the
inconsistencies of his life. Inconsistencies there were none in his
life. He had been brought up in the most unbending school of Toryism.
He became the most active reformer of our times. But whilst he became
the leader of the Liberal party and an active reformer, it is only due
to him to say that in his complex mind there was a vast space for what
is known as conservatism. His mind was not only liberal but
conservative as well, and he clung to the affections of his youth
until, in questions of practical moment, he found them clashing with
that sense of right and abhorrence of injustice of which I have
spoken. But the moment he found his conservative affections clash with
what he thought right and just, he did not hesitate to abandon his
former convictions and go the whole length of the reforms demanded.
Thus he was always devotedly, filially, lovingly attached to the
Church of England. He loved it, as he often declared. He adhered to it
as an establishment in England, but the very reasons and arguments
which, in his mind, justified the establishment of the Church in
England, compelled him to a different course as far as that church was
concerned in Ireland. In England the Church was the church of the
majority, of almost the unanimity of the nation. In Ireland it was
the church of the minority, and, therefore, he did not hesitate. His
course was clear: he removed the one church and maintained the other.
So it was with Home Rule. But coming to the subject of Home Rule,
though there may be much to say, perhaps this is neither the occasion
nor the place to say it. The Irish problem is dormant, not solved; but
the policy proposed by Mr. Gladstone for the solution of this question
has provoked too much bitterness, too deep division, even on the floor
of this House, to make it advisable to say anything about it on this
occasion.

I notice it, however, simply because it is the last and everlasting
monument of that high sense of justice which, above all things,
characterized him. When he became convinced that Home Rule was the
only method whereby the long-open wound could be healed, he did not
hesitate one moment, even though he were to sacrifice friends, power,
popularity. And he sacrificed friends, power, popularity, in order to
give that supreme measure of justice to a long-suffering people.
Whatever may be the views which men entertain upon the policy of Home
Rule, whether they favour that policy or whether they oppose it,
whether they believe in it or whether they do not believe in it, every
man, whether friend or foe of that measure, must say that it was not
only a bold, but it was a noble thought, that of attempting to cure
discontent in Ireland by trusting to Irish honour and Irish
generosity.

Now, Sir, he is no more. England is to-day in tears, but fortunate is
the nation which has produced such a man. His years are over; but his
work is not closed; his work is still going on. The example which he
gave to the world shall live for ever, and the seed which he has sown
with such a copious hand shall still germinate and bear fruit under
the full light of heaven.

      --_Sir Wilfrid Laurier (By permission)_


  In reading this speech, apply the principles of Pause,
  Inflection, Grouping, Emphasis, and Perspective
  illustrated in the preceding lessons.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY

From "King Henry VIII" Act III. Scene ii.


  Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
  This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
  The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
  And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
  The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,                        5
  And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
  His greatness is a-ripening,--nips his root,
  And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
  Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
  This many summers in a sea of glory,                                10
  But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
  At length broke under me; and now has left me,
  Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
  Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
  Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:                       15
  I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched
  Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
  There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
  That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
  More pangs and fears than wars or women have;                       20
  And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
  Never to hope again.--

[_Enter Cromwell, and stands amazed_]

    Why, how now, Cromwell!

  _Crom._ I have no power to speak, sir.

  _Wol._ What! amaz'd
  At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder
  A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,                       25
  I am fall'n indeed.

  _Crom._ How does your grace?

  _Wol._ Why, well;
  Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
  I know myself now; and I feel within me
  A peace above all earthly dignities,
  A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,                30
  I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
  These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
  A load would sink a navy,--too much honour:
  O, 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden,
  Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!                          35

  _Crom._ I am glad your grace has made that right
  use of it.

  _Wol._ I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,--
  Out of a fortitude of soul I feel--
  To endure more miseries, and greater far,
  Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.                            40
  What news abroad?

  _Crom._ The heaviest, and the worst
  Is your displeasure with the king.

  _Wol._ God bless him!

  _Crom._ The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen
  Lord chancellor in your place.

  _Wol._ That's somewhat sudden:
  But he's a learned man. May he continue                             45
  Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
  For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
  When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
  May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!--
  What more?                                                          50

  _Crom._ That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
  Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.

  _Wol._ That's news indeed.

  _Crom._                    Last, that the Lady Anne,
  Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
  This day was view'd in open, as his queen,                          55
  Going to chapel; and the voice is now
  Only about her coronation.

  _Wol._ There was the weight that pull'd me down.
      O Cromwell,
  The king has gone beyond me: all my glories
  In that one woman I have lost for ever.                             60
  No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
  Or gild again the noble troops that waited
  Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
  I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
  To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;                           65
  That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
  What and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
  Some little memory of me will stir him--
  I know his noble nature--not to let
  Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,                      70
  Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
  For thine own future safety.

  _Crom._                  O my lord,
  Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forego
  So good, so noble, and so true a master?
  Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,                     75
  With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
  The king shall have my service; but my prayers,
  For ever and for ever, shall be yours.

  _Wol._ Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
  In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,                        80
  Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
  Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell:
  And--when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
  And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
  Of me more must be heard of--say, I taught thee,                    85
  Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
  And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
  Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in;
  A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
  Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.                          90
  Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
  By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
  The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't?
  Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
  Corruption wins not more than honesty.                              95
  Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
  To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
  Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
  Thy God's, and truth's: then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
  Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;                     100
  And--pr'ythee lead me in:
  There take an inventory of all I have,
  To the last penny; 't is the king's: my robe,
  And my integrity to Heaven, is all
  I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!                      105
  Had I but served my God with half the zeal
  I served my king, He would not in mine age
  Have left me naked to mine enemies.

  _Crom._ Good sir, have patience.

  _Wol._                  So I have. Farewell                        110
  The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

        --_Shakespeare_


  Compare the last words of Wolsey with those of Socrates
  as found in Jowett's translation of _The Apology_, (p.
  145.)

  BE JUST ... MARTYR. Show that the life and death of
  Socrates illustrates this ideal.

  Compare the Pitch in which Wolsey utters his monologue
  with that in which he addresses Cromwell. (Introduction,
  p. 23.)

  How is the parenthetical clause in ll. 6 and 7 kept in
  the back-ground? (Introduction, p. 24.) Select similar
  examples from Wolsey's speeches.

  AND FROM THESE SHOULDERS ... NAVY. Supply the ellipses.

  BY THAT SIN ... WIN BY 'T? Select the emphatic words and
  account for the Emphasis in each case. (Introduction, p.
  30.)

       *       *       *       *       *


THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND


  That second time they hunted me
  From hill to plain, from shore to sea,
  And Austria, hounding far and wide
  Her blood-hounds thro' the country-side,
  Breathed hot and instant on my trace.--                              5
  I made, six days, a hiding-place
  Of that dry green old aqueduct
  Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked
  The fireflies from the roof above,
  Bright creeping thro' the moss they love:                           10
  --How long it seems since Charles was lost!
  Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed
  The country in my very sight;
  And when that peril ceased at night,
  The sky broke out in red dismay                                     15
  With signal-fires. Well, there I lay
  Close covered o'er in my recess,
  Up to the neck in ferns and cress,
  Thinking on Metternich our friend,
  And Charles's miserable end,                                        20
  And much beside, two days; the third,
  Hunger o'ercame me when I heard
  The peasants from the village go
  To work among the maize: you know,
  With us in Lombardy, they bring                                     25
  Provisions packed on mules, a string
  With little bells that cheer their task,
  And casks, and boughs on every cask
  To keep the sun's heat from the wine;
  These I let pass in jingling line,                                  30
  And, close on them, dear noisy crew,
  The peasants from the village, too;
  For at the very rear would troop
  Their wives and sisters in a group
  To help, I knew. When these had passed,                             35
  I threw my glove to strike the last,
  Taking the chance: she did not start,
  Much less cry out, but stooped apart,
  One instant rapidly glanced round,
  And saw me beckon from the ground;                                  40
  A wild bush grows and hides my crypt,
  She picked my glove up while she stripped
  A branch off, then rejoined the rest
  With that; my glove lay in her breast:
  Then I drew breath; they disappeared:                               45
  It was for Italy I feared.

  An hour, and she returned alone
  Exactly where my glove was thrown.
  Meanwhile came many thoughts; on me
  Rested the hopes of Italy;                                          50
  I had devised a certain tale
  Which, when 't was told her, could not fail
  Persuade a peasant of its truth;
  I meant to call a freak of youth
  This hiding, and give hopes of pay,                                 55
  And no temptation to betray.
  But when I saw that woman's face,
  It's calm simplicity of grace,
  Our Italy's own attitude
  In which she walked thus far, and stood,                            60
  Planting each naked foot so firm,
  To crush the snake and spare the worm--
  At first sight of her eyes, I said,
  "I am that man upon whose head
  They fix the price, because I hate                                  65
  The Austrians over us; the State
  Will give you gold--oh, gold so much!--
  If you betray me to their clutch,
  And be your death, for aught I know,
  If once they find you saved their foe.                              70
  Now, you must bring me food and drink,
  And also paper, pen and ink,
  And carry safe what I shall write
  To Padua, which you'll reach at night
  Before the duomo shuts; go in,                                      75
  And wait till Tenebrae begin;
  Walk to the third confessional,
  Between the pillar and the wall,
  And kneeling whisper, _Whence comes peace?_
  Say it a second time, then cease;                                   80
  And if the voice inside returns,
  _From Christ and Freedom; what concerns
  The cause of Peace?_--for answer, slip
  My letter where you placed your lip;
  Then come back happy we have done                                   85
  Our mother service--I, the son,
  As you the daughter of our land!"

    Three mornings more, she took her stand
  In the same place, with the same eyes:
  I was no surer of sunrise                                           90
  Than of her coming: we conferred
  Of her own prospects, and I heard
  She had a lover--stout and tall,
  She said--then let her eyelids fall,
  "He could do much"--as if some doubt                                95
  Entered her heart,--then, passing out,
  "She could not speak for others, who
  Had other thoughts; herself she knew":
  And so she brought me drink and food.
  After four days, the scouts pursued                                100
  Another path; at last arrived
  The help my Paduan friends contrived
  To furnish me: she brought the news.
  For the first time I could not choose
  But kiss her hand, and lay my own                                  105
  Upon her head--"This faith was shown
  To Italy, our mother; she
  Uses my hand and blesses thee."
  She followed down to the sea-shore;
  I left and never saw her more.                                     110

    How very long since I have thought
  Concerning--much less wished for--aught
  Beside the good of Italy,
  For which I live and mean to die!
  I never was in love; and since                                     115
  Charles proved false, what shall now convince
  My inmost heart I have a friend?
  However, if I pleased to spend
  Real wishes on myself--say, three--
  I know at least what one should be.                                120
  I would grasp Metternich until
  I felt his red wet throat distil
  In blood thro' these two hands. And next,
  --Nor much for that am I perplexed--
  Charles, perjured traitor, for his part,                           125
  Should die slow of a broken heart
  Under his new employers. Last,
  --Ah, there, what should I wish? For fast
  Do I grow old and out of strength.
  If I resolved to seek at length                                    130
  My father's house again, how scared
  They all would look, and unprepared!
  My brothers live in Austria's pay
  --Disowned me long ago, men say;
  And all my early mates who used                                    135
  To praise me so--perhaps induced
  More than one early step of mine--
  Are turning wise: while some opine
  "Freedom grows license", some suspect
  "Haste breeds delay", and recollect                                140
  They always said, such premature
  Beginnings never could endure!
  So, with a sullen "All's for best",
  The land seems settling to its rest.
  I think then, I should wish to stand                               145
  This evening in that dear, lost land,
  Over the sea the thousand miles,
  And know if yet that woman smiles
  With the calm smile; some little farm
  She lives in there, no doubt: what harm                            150
  If I sat on the door-side bench,
  And, while her spindle made a trench
  Fantastically in the dust,
  Inquired of all her fortunes--just
  Her children's ages and their names,                               155
  And what may be the husband's aims
  For each of them. I'd talk this out,
  And sit there, for an hour about,
  Then kiss her hand once more, and lay
  Mine on her head, and go my way.                                   160

  So much for idle wishing--how
  It steals the time! To business now.

      --_Robert Browning (By permission)_


  PREPARATORY.--What is the historical back-ground of this
  poem? Suggest the possible details of the exiled
  patriot's life in England, his surroundings and frame of
  mind at the moment of speaking.

  Reconstruct for yourself the three scenes of which the
  peasant woman is the centre.

  What qualities did the Italian at once recognize in the
  peasant woman which led him to intrust his safety to
  her?

  79. WHENCE COMES PEACE? In what Quality of voice is this
  read? Give your reason. (Introduction, p. 34.)

  95. HE COULD DO MUCH. How is the doubt in this speech
  and in the one following indicated by the Inflection?
  (Introduction, p. 18.)

  111-112. With what is THOUGHT CONCERNING connected? How?

  120-123. I KNOW AT LEAST ... HANDS. What Quality of
  voice expresses the feeling here? What succeeding lines
  have the same Quality? (Introduction, p. 35.) With what
  is NEXT connected? How?

  139-142. FREEDOM GROWS LICENSE ... ENDURE. How is the
  irony of these lines indicated? (Introduction, pp. 21
  and 30.)

  How does the mood of the last two lines differ from the
  preceding? What is the difference in vocal expression?

       *       *       *       *       *


ADVANTAGES OF IMPERIAL FEDERATION

From an address delivered in Toronto, January 30th, 1891, under the
auspices of the Imperial Federation League


I now go on to mention another and greater advantage of Imperial
Federation than the one which we have just been considering; an
advantage too that is so connected with that of improved trade that
the two must be considered together. In fact, in my opinion, the first
is not likely to be obtained without the second. We cannot expect
Britain to concede preferential trade to us, on the ground that we are
part of the Empire, unless we are willing to share the
responsibilities of the Empire. I say then, secondly, that only by
some form of Imperial Federation can the independence of Canada be
preserved, with due regard to self-respect.

If this is true, if Imperial Federation can do this, and if it can be
done in no other way, then the necessity for Imperial Federation is
proved; for national independence is an advantage so great that no
price can be named that is too great to give in payment. It is the
same with a country as with a man. Independent he must be, or he
ceases to be a man. Burns advises his young friend to "gather gear" in
every honourable way, and what for?

  Not for to hoard it in a dyke,
    Not for a train attendant;
  But for the glorious privilege
    Of being independent.

And that which is the supreme dignity of manhood is even more
essential in the case of a nation.

What do we mean when we speak of the independence of the country? We
mean something beyond price, something that is the indispensable
condition of true manhood in any country, something without which a
country is poor in the present and a butt for the world's scorn in the
future. There are men, or things that look like men, who say that as
long as we put money in our purse, nothing else counts. How that class
of men must have laughed some centuries ago at a fool called William
Wallace! How clearly they could point out that it was much better to
be part of the richer country to the south. When they heard of the
fate of the patriot, did they not serenely say: "We told you so?" Did
they not in their hearts envy the false Menteath the price he got for
betraying the man who acted as true sentiment bade? But, give it time,
and the judgment of the world is just. Even the blind can now see
whether the patriot or the so-called "practical man" did most for
Scotland's advantage. Now

  At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood
  But boils up in a springtime flood!
  Oft have our fearless fathers strode
        By Wallace' side,
  Still pressing onward, red-wat shod,
        Or glorious died.

What has his memory been worth to Scotland! Would you estimate it in
millions? Superior persons will tell me that Wallace is an
anachronism. In form, yes; in spirit, never. It may be said that in
the end Scotland did unite with England. Yes, but first, what a curse
the union would have been if unaccompanied, as in the case of Ireland,
with national self-respect! And, secondly, Canada is ready for union
with the States any day on the same terms as those which Scotland got:
(1) That the States accept our Queen or King as their head. (2) That
we keep our own civil and criminal law and parliamentary constitution,
as Scotland did. (3) That the whole Empire be included in the
arrangement, as the whole of Scotland was in the union. Surely the men
who are never tired of citing the case of Scotland and England as
parallel to ours must admit that this is fair.

But, here comes a question that must be faced. Is it worth while
preserving the independence, the unity, and dignity of Canada? There
are men who, for one reason or another, doubt whether it is. They have
lost faith in the country, or rather they never had any faith to lose.
It is this absence of faith that is at the bottom of all their
arguments and all their unrest. Now, I do not wonder that there should
be men who do not share our faith. Men who were brought up in England,
and who have seen and tasted the best of it; who are proud of that
"dear, dear land", as Shakespeare called it, proud of its history, its
roll of saints, statesmen, heroes; of its cathedrals, colleges,
castles; of its present might as well as its ancient renown; and who
have then come to live in Canada,--well, they naturally look with
amused contempt at our raw, rough ways, our homespun legislators and
log colleges, combined with lofty ambitions expressed sometimes--it
must be admitted--in bunkum. I do not wonder, either, that men who
have been citizens of the United States, who exult in its vast
population, its vast wealth, and its boundless energy, should think it
madness on our part that we are not knocking untiringly at their door
for admission, and that the only explanation of our attitude that they
can give is that we are "swelled heads", or "the rank and file of
jingoism." But, after all, they must know that this question is not to
be settled by them. It must be settled by genuine Canadians. We, like
Cartier, are Canadians _avant tout_. Most of us have been born in the
land, have buried our fathers and mothers, and some of us our
children, too, in the natal soil, and above the sacred dust we have
pledged ourselves to be true to their memories and to the country they
loved, and to those principles of honour that are eternal! God
helping, we will do so, whether strangers help or hinder! We do not
think so meanly of our country that we are willing to sell it for a
mess of pottage. I know Canada well, from ocean to ocean; from the
rich sea pastures on the Atlantic all the way across to Vancouver and
Victoria. Every province and every territory of it, I know well. I
know the people, too, a people thoroughly democratic and honest to the
core. I would now plainly warn those who think that there is no such
thing as Canadian sentiment that they are completely mistaken. They
had better not reckon without their host. The silent vote is that
which tells, and though it will not talk, it will vote solid all the
time for those who represent national sentiment when the national life
is threatened. I am not a party man. In my day, I have voted about
evenly on both sides, for when I do vote, it is after consideration of
the actual issues involved at the time. Both sides therefore rightly
consider me unreliable, but, perhaps, both will listen when I point
out that the independent vote is increasing, and that it is the only
vote worth cultivating. The true Grit or Tory will vote with his
party, right or wrong. No time, therefore, need be given to him. Let
the wise candidate win the men who believe that the country is higher
than party, and there is, I think, only one thing that these men will
not forgive--lack of faith in the country. They have no doubt that it
is worth while to preserve the unity, dignity, and independence of
Canada.

We are quite sure of this. Are we as sure that it is our duty to pay
the price? The United States are paying three or four times our whole
revenue in pensions to those who fought to keep the country united.
They do not grudge this enormous price. They have besides a
respectable army, and a fleet that will soon be formidable. What means
do we find it necessary to use? In any trouble we simply call on the
Mother Country. The present system is cheap. No! it is dear and nasty,
and cannot last.

What should we do? First, let us remember what Britain has dared for
us within the last two or three years. Britain would fight the rest of
the world rather than the United States,--not because the Republic
could hurt her seriously, not because her trade with it is five times
as much as with us, but because she is proud of her own eldest child
and knows that a war between mother and daughter would be a blow
struck at the world's heart. Yet, for us she spoke the decisive word
from which there was no drawing back. For us, once and again, because
we were in the right, she dared a risk which she hated with her whole
soul.

Let us show that we appreciate her attitude. Let us, at any rate, do
what Australia has done--enter into a treaty, according to which we
shall pay so much a year for a certain number of ships, to be on our
own coasts in peace, and in war at the disposal of the Empire. That
would be tantamount to saying: "You have shared our risks, we will
share yours; we will pay part of the insurance that is necessary to
guarantee peace; we are educating officers for the army, and we are
willing to give a much needed addition to the fleet". That would be a
first step toward the attainment of full citizenship. What would be
the next? We could ask that our voice should be heard in some
constitutional way before any war was decided on. And we would have
the right standing ground from which to urge a wise system of
preferential trade in the common interest. These three things are, in
my opinion, connected, and I have ventured to indicate the order in
which they should be taken.

Would it pay? The experience of the world proves that nothing pays in
the long run but duty-doing. How can a country grow great men if it is
content to be in leading-strings, and to give plausible excuses to
show that that state of things is quite satisfactory?

Only by some form of Imperial Federation can the unity of the Empire
be preserved.

The previous advantages to which I referred concerned Canada directly.
This one may appear, to some persons, far away from us, but it is not.
In another speech I may enlarge on this advantage, but suffice it to
say now, that we cannot isolate ourselves from humanity. Canada ought
to be dearer to us than any other part of the Empire, but none the
less we must admit that the Empire is more important to the world than
any of its parts, and every true man is a citizen of the world.

I will not speak to-night of what the Empire has done for us in the
past, of the rich inheritance into which we have entered, and of the
shame that falls on children who value lightly the honour of their
family and race. Consider only the present position of affairs. The
European nations are busy watching each other. Britain is detaching
herself from them, understanding that she is an oceanic, colonizing,
and world power, much more than a European state. The United States
and Britain are the two Powers, one in essence, cradled in freedom,
that have a great future before them. According to the last census,
the first has a population of some fifty-four millions of whites. The
census of next April will show that the other has nearly forty
millions in the home islands and ten millions in the self-governing
Colonies. The two Powers have thus about the same population of white
men, and the two are likely to grow at the same rate.

In Britain the rate of increase will be less, but in the Colonies it
will be greater than in the States during the next half century. The
States will keep united. They have stamped out disunion. We have to
prove that we intend to keep the Empire united; but that can be done
only by giving the ten millions a gradually increasing share in common
privileges and responsibilities. Surely such a work is not beyond the
resources of statesmanship. For a long time decentralization was
needed. Now, all the signs of the times indicate the necessity to
centralize. The days of small powers are over, and modern inventions
make communication easy between east and west, as well as between
north and south.

If this is not done, what will certainly happen? Separation, first of
one part then of another; weakness of each part and weakness all
round. Think of the impetus that this would give to every force that
makes for chaos among the three hundred millions over whom God in His
providence has placed us. The work that the British Empire has in hand
is far grander than the comparatively parochial duties with which the
States are content to deal. Its problems are wider and more inspiring;
yet, at the same time, the white race that alone, so far, has proved
itself fit for self-government, lives by itself, instead of being
commingled with a coloured race to which only nominal freedom is
allowed. Any one who has lived either in South Africa or in the
Southern States will understand what a free hand and what an
unspeakable leverage this gives us. We need no Force Bill to ensure a
free ballot in Britain, Canada, Australia, or New Zealand. Already our
sons are taking their part in introducing civilization into Africa,
under the aegis of the flag, and in preserving the _Pax Britannica_
among the teeming millions of India and southeastern Asia, those
peoples kindred to ourselves, who for centuries before had been the
prey of successive spoilers. Think of the horizon that this opens up,
and remember that in building a state we must think not of the present
but of the future.

In a generation all the best land on this continent will have been
taken up. But, thanks to the far-reaching wisdom of our fathers, the
greater part of the world will be open to the trade, to the
colonizing, and to the enterprise of our children. We shall not be
confined to a frozen north or to a single continent. We shall take
part in work that is of world-wide significance, and shall act out our
belief that God loves not North America only, but the whole world.
Only on conditions of the British Empire standing, can this be done.
This is the ideal that we should set before us, and remember that no
people has ever been a great or permanent factor in the world that was
without high ideals. I know that this advantage to which I am
referring is not one that can be calculated in dollars, any more than
the work of a Wallace or the poems of a Shakespeare, the life of
Sydney or the death of Gordon; but it is an advantage none the less
for which many of us are content to struggle and, if need be, to
suffer. What are we in this world for? Surely for something higher
than to still the daily craving of appetite. Surely for something
higher than to accumulate money, though it should be to the extent of
adding million to million. Surely we are in the world for something
better! Yes, we are here to think great thoughts, to do great things,
to promote great ideals. This can be done only through faithfulness to
the best spirit of our fathers. Society is an organism, and must
preserve its continuity. It must work, too, through instruments; and
the most potent, keenest, best-tried instrument on earth for
preserving peace, order, liberty and righteousness, is the Empire of
which we are citizens. Shall we throw away that citizenship, or shall
we maintain and strengthen that Empire?

      --_George Monro Grant (By permission)_


  Apply the principles of Emphasis, Inflection, Grouping,
  and Perspective in reading this address. Give specific
  illustrations of each.

       *       *       *       *       *


COLLECT FOR DOMINION DAY


  Father of nations! Help of the feeble hand!
    Strength of the strong! to whom the nations kneel!
  Stay and destroyer, at whose just command
    Earth's kingdoms tremble and her empires reel!
  Who dost the low uplift, the small make great,                       5
    And dost abase the ignorantly proud,
  Of our scant people mould a mighty state,
    To the strong, stern,--to Thee in meekness bowed!
  Father of unity, make this people one!
    Weld, interfuse them in the patriot's flame,--                    10
  Whose forging on Thine anvil was begun
    In blood late shed to purge the common shame;
  That so our hearts, the fever of faction done,
    Banish old feud in our young nation's name.

      --_Charles G. D. Roberts_ (_By arrangement_)

       *       *       *       *       *


ENGLAND


  This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
  This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
  This other Eden, demi-paradise,
  This fortress, built by Nature for herself
  Against infection and the hand of war,
  This happy breed of men, this little world,
  This precious stone set in the silver sea.

       *       *       *       *       *




APPENDIX


A

EXERCISES IN VOWEL SOUNDS AND IN ARTICULATION


1. ā as in ate, fate, cave, made, glade, pale.

   â as in air, fair, chair, hair, lair, pair, care, dare, bare,
     share, bear, fairy, compare, parent, prayer, garish, there, heir.

   ă as in at, that, and, damp, glad, bade, castle, baron, barrel.

   ä as in far, arm, hark, charm, march, bard, calm, palm, psalm,
     balm, half, alms, father, dark, wrath, path, marsh, laugh.

   ȧ as in ask, grasp, fast, last, pass, past, branch, chance, dance,
     mast, vast, gasp, quaff, craft, staff, chant, grass, mass.

   ạ as in all, talk, squall, dawn, warp, hawk, laurel, haughty, halt.

   a obscure, in final medial syllables, unaccented, and closed by n,
     l, nt, nce, nd, s, ss, st, p or ph or ff, m, or d, as in sylvan,
     vacancy, mortal, loyal, valiant, guidance, husband, breakfast,
     gallant, ballad, etc.

   ē as in me, seem, reap, weed, lean, evil, redeem.

   ĕ as in met, end, spell, debt, text, jest, when, merry, America,
     ceremony.

   ẽ (coalescent) as in her, fern, earth, mercy, verse, stern, earl,
     pearl, term, verge, prefer, serge, earn, early.

   ī as in time, tide, mile, wine, high, size.

   ĭ as in pin, grim, king, gift, this, grip.

   ĩ (coalescent) as in bird, girl, fir, stir, girdle, circle, virgin,
     first.

   ō as in note, old, spoke, pole, wrote, joke.

   ŏ as in not, shot, top, odd, honest, comic, on, gone, off, often,
     dog, (not "dawg"), God, soft, long, song, strong, coral, orange,
     foreign, torrid, coronet, corridor, correlate.

   ô as in corn, lord, stork, orb, form, forlorn, morn, short, adorn.

   o as in word, work, worm, worry.

   ȯ as in love, done, some, cover, brother, another, month, company,
     Monday, front, covet, wonder, sponge, smother.

   ö as in do, move, who, whose, lose, prove, too, bosom.

   ū as in use, pure, duke, tune, tube, blue, duty, flew, new,
     student, subdue, pursue, absolute, illumine, tumult, suit, during,
     pursuit, presume, lunacy, Tuesday, numeral.

   ŭ as in us, up, but, drum, dusk, trust.

   ṳ as in rude, brute, fruit, sure, true, construe, recruit.

   ụ as in full, pull, put, push, cushion, bushel, pulpit, bullet.

   û as in hurt, burr, cur, fur, furl, burst, purr, recur, curfew,
     furlong, surge, urn.

Note that ä in far and ȧ in ask are called long Italian
_a_ and short Italian _a_ respectively. The quality of
the sound is the same in each, but they differ in
quantity, the latter being shorter.

The following vowels have the same sound:

   ẽ (coalescent) and ĩ (coalescent);

   ö as in do, ṳ as in rude, and ōō as in food;

   o as in word and û as in hurt;

   o as in love and û as in us.

After marking the vowels diacritically read the following passages,
paying special attention to the vowel sounds:


  So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of war that day.

  That desperate grasp thy frame might feel
  Through bars of brass and triple steel.

  The guide, abating of his pace,
  Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
  And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause
  He sought these wilds, traversed by few
  Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

  The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms,
  The heart outstretches its eager palms.

  O listen, ladies, ladies gay!
  No haughty feat of arms I tell;
  Soft is the note, and sad the lay
  That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

  And when the Angel met him on his way,
  And half in earnest, half in jest, would say,
  Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel
  The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel,
  "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woe
  Burst from him in resistless overflow,
  And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling
  The haughty answer back, "I am, I am the King!"

  Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
  Myself will guide thee on the way,
  O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,
  Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,
  'As far as Coilantogle's ford;
  From thence thy warrant is thy sword.

  Around the keel that raced the dolphin and the shark
  Only the sand-wren twitters from barren dawn till dark;
  And all the long blank noon the blank sand chafes and mars
  The prow once swift to follow the lure of the dancing stars.


2. Distinguish the sound of _ū_ in use, pure, duke, etc.,

  from the sound of _oo_ in
    food, hoof, mood, rood, roof, soot, aloof,
  and from the sound of _oo_ in
    book, good, nook, hood, rook, look, foot, crook.

Read the following with special reference to these sounds:

  Flew flashing under the blinding blue.

  She left the web, she left the loom,
  She made three paces thro' the room,
  She saw the water-lily bloom,
  She saw the helmet and the plume,
  She look'd down to Camelot.

  Singing the bridal of sap and shoot,
  The tree's slow life between root and fruit.

  ... helter-skelter through the blue
  Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue.

  While on dreary moorlands lonely curlew pipe.

  My Lords, you have that true image of the primitive Church in
      its ancient form, in its ancient ordinances, purified from
      the superstitions and vices which a long succession of
      ages will bring upon the best institutions.

3. Double and triple consonant endings present difficulties of
articulation:--Robbed, bragged, divulged, mends, breathed, gossips,
casques, barracks, depths, heights, lengths, breadths, lists, aspects,
seethes, thirsteth, breathest, sheath'st, melt'st, search'st, sixths,
twelfths, tests.

Read with special reference to the articulation of the final
consonants:

  You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

  Scattering down the snow-flakes off the curdled sky.

  With throats unslaked, with black lips baked.

  The guests are met, the feast is set
  May'st hear the merry din.

  Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;
  Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth
      is renewed like the eagle's.

  Spirit that breathest through my lattice,
  Thou that cool'st the twilight of the sultry day.

  He groped toward the door, but it was locked,
  He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,
  And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,
  And imprecations upon men and saints.

  It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
    It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
  'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
    And seen from caverned Hawthornden.

  Skilful artists thou employest,
  And in chastest beauty joyest,
  Forms most delicate, pure, and clear,
  Frost-caught star-beams, fallen sheer
  In the night, and woven here
  In jewel-fretted tapestries.

4. Sound distinctly the ending _ing_ in: Languishing, blackening,
threatening, rushing, ascending, flashing, throbbing.

  Roughening their crests and scattering high their spray,
  And swelling the white sail.

  Blazing with light and breathing with perfume.

   . . . . a revolting shape
  Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape.
  Lakelets' lisping wavelets lapping,
  Round a flock of wild ducks napping,
  And the rapturous-noted wooings,
  And the molten-throated cooings
  Of the amorous multitudes
  Flashing through the dusky woods,
  When a veering wind hath blown
  A glare of sudden daylight down.

  5. Sound final _d_ in "and":

  Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

  Away from the world, and its toils and its cares.

  And the sun went down and the stars came out.

  Peace, and order, and beauty draw
  Round thy symbol of light and law.

  East and west, and south and north
    The messengers ride fast,
  And tower, and town, and cottage,
    Have heard the trumpet's blast.

  Blood and fire on the streaming decks,
    And fire and blood below;
  The heat of hell, and the reek of hell,
    And the dead men laid a-row!


6. Articulate distinctly words in which the same or similar sounds
immediately succeed each other:

  Spanish ships of war at sea.

  At Flores, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay.

        Come Roderick Dhu,
  And of his clan the boldest two.

  Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare.

  Cast off earth's sorrows and know what I know,

  When into the glad deep woods I go.

  The silver vessels sparkle clean.

  From the sails the dew did drip.

  The sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

  Thousands of their seamen looked down from their decks and laughed.


7. Sound the letter _h_ in what, while, where, when, which, whether,
white, whiten, whine, whist, etc.


8. Avoid the sound of _u_ in:

  for, from, was, because, when, what, etc.

  for coalescent _e_ in:
  her, earn, verse, mercy, verge, serge, prefer, ermine, etc.

  for _ĕ_ in:
  enemy, events, poem, etc.

  for _ĭ_ in:
  spirit, family, credible, visible, charity, unity, sanity,
  humanity, ruin, promise, divide, divisible, dissolve, languid,
  negative, similar, abominable, imitate, inimitable,
  purity, native, etc.

  for _i_ (coalescent) in:
  sir, bird, girl, first, virgin, etc.

  Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; all is vanity.

  Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

  A wind from the lands they had ruin'd.

  Who was her father?
  Who was her mother?
  Had she a sister?
  Had she a brother?
  Or was there a dearer one
  Still, and a nearer one
  Yet, than all other?

  Alas! for the rarity
  Of Christian charity
  Under the sun!
  Oh! it was pitiful!
  Near a whole city full
  Home she had none.

9. Avoid the sound of _ch_ for _t_ in: fortune, fortunate, future,
futurity, nature, natural, picture, feature, etc.

  King Robert's self in features, form and height.

  For this man so vile and bent of stature
  Rasped harshly against his dainty nature.

  One more unfortunate
  Weary of breath,
  Rashly importunate
  Gone to her death.




B

PHYSICAL EXERCISES


(_These exercises form a course by themselves and should not be
introduced into the regular reading lesson._)


BREATHING.--The proper management of the breath is of the
greatest importance in speaking and reading. Inhalation and exhalation
should be gradual and natural, not spasmodic. The
reader should never allow his supply of breath to be wholly exhausted,
but should replenish it at regular intervals. Inhalation
should be through the nostrils, not the mouth. This prevents
gasping, and promotes and preserves a healthy condition of the
vocal organs. It is not necessary to keep the mouth closed in
order that the breath be inhaled through the nostrils. Inhalation
may be effected when the mouth is open by allowing the tip of
the tongue to touch the upper palate. All breathing exercises
should be deep, commencing with the abdomen, and should expand
the chest to the fullest capacity.


_Exercise I._ Stand erect in a well ventilated room. Inhale
slowly from the abdomen while counting five, hold the breath
while counting five, and exhale while counting five.

Repeat this exercise, gradually increasing the count by one
until the maximum of ten or fifteen is reached.


_Exercise II._ Practise the preceding exercise in the open air
while walking, taking five steps while inhaling, holding the breath,
and exhaling respectively. The count may be increased as in the
preceding.


_Exercise III._ Stand erect, arms akimbo, fingers pressing the
abdominal muscles in front, thumbs on the dorsal muscles on each
side of the spine. Rise slowly on the toes while inhaling, hold the
breath while standing on tiptoe, and exhale while gradually resuming
the original position. In each case regulate the count as
in the preceding exercises.


_Exercise IV._ Stand erect, arms hanging loosely at the sides.
Inhale slowly, rising on the toes, clenching the fists with gradually
increased intensity, and raising them to the arm-pits. Expel
the breath suddenly, dropping back to the original position.


CHEST AND LUNGS.--Gymnastic exercises, such as develop the
chest and lungs, are of great importance, since they regulate the
breathing capacity.

_Exercise I._ Stand erect, arms hanging loosely at the sides.
Raise the arms slowly to the vertical position over the head, making
the hands meet with palms outward, the thumb of the left
hand over the right, rising on the toes at the same time; then let
the arms fall apart slowly to their original position, while coming
down on the heels.

_Exercise II._ Stand erect as in the preceding. Bring the
arms slowly forward until the hands meet on a level with the
mouth, bending forward slightly and rising on the toes; then
throw back the arms in a circular movement, allowing them to
fall to their original position, coming down on the heels at the
same time.

_Exercise III._ Raise the hands above the head; bring down
the elbows to the sides; shoot out the hands in front; bring in
the elbows to the sides; shoot down the hands toward the floor;
firing up the elbows to the sides. Repeat. This exercise may
be practised with hands clenched.

THROAT AND NECK.--Exercises of the throat and neck develop
and keep flexible the vocal cords, which are of prime importance
in producing pure tones.

_Exercise I._ Stand erect. Look at the ceiling; allow the head
to drop backward as far as possible; then bring the head slowly
forward until the chin rests on the chest. Repeat.

_Exercise II._ Stand erect. Twist the head slowly to the
left, without moving the shoulders, until the chin is parallel to the
left shoulder; then slowly twist the head to the right, without
moving the shoulders, until the chin is parallel to the right
shoulder. Repeat.

_Exercise III._ Press the head to the left until the left ear
rests almost on the left shoulder, raising the right arm above the
head at the same time. Practise this exercise, pressing the head
to the right and raising the left arm. Repeat.

MOUTH.--To produce the finest tones of the voice, three conditions
of the mouth are necessary:

(1) The mouth must be well opened.
(2) The vocal aperture must be large.
(3) The jaws must be flexible.

If the mouth is well opened the tones are full; if partially
closed they are muffled. The vocal aperture is the opening in the
rear of the mouth produced by the elevation of the uvula, and
the depression of the root of the tongue and the larynx. The
purity and richness of the voice depend, to a great extent, upon
the capacity of the vocal aperture. If it is of small capacity, or
contracted, the tones are impure and nasal.

The mode of producing pure tones can be studied best before
a mirror placed so that the light falls upon the back part of the
mouth.

_Exercise I._ Open the mouth to the fullest extent and close
rapidly. Repeat.

_Exercise II._ Open the mouth to the fullest extent, so that
the uvula rises and almost disappears, and the root of the tongue
and larynx are depressed. The action is similar to yawning, and
to accomplish it "think a yawn", if necessary.




C

LIST OF REFERENCE BOOKS.


How to Teach Reading in the Public Schools. S. H. Clark.
(Scott, Foresman & Co.)

The Voice and Spiritual Education. Hiram Corson. (Macmillan
& Co.)

The Aims of Literary Study. Hiram Corson. (Macmillan
& Co.)

Practical Elocution. Fulton and Trueblood. (Ginn & Co.)

Elementary Phonetics. A.W. Burt. (The Copp, Clark
Co., Limited.)

Enunciation and Articulation. Ella M. Boyce. (Ginn & Co.)

Clear Speaking and Good Reading. Arthur Burrell. (Longmans,
Green & Co.)

Reading as a Fine Art. Ernest Legouvé. (Penn Publishing
Co., Philadelphia.)

Lessons in Vocal Expression. S. S. Curry. (The Expression
Co., Boston.)





End of Project Gutenberg's The Ontario High School Reader, by A.E. Marty