PUBLIC SPEAKINGPRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE

BY IRVAH LESTER WINTER

IN OFFERING A BOOK TO STUDENTS OF PUBLIC SPEAKINGTHE AUTHOR WOULD PAY WHAT TRIBUTE IS HERE POSSIBLETOCHARLES WILLIAM ELIOTWHO FOR MANY YEARS HAS TAUGHT BY EXAMPLETHE POWER AND BEAUTY OF PERFECTED SPEECH

PREFACE

This book is designed to set forth the main principles of effectiveplatform delivery, and to provide a large body of material for studentpractice. The work laid out may be used to form a separate course ofstudy, or a course of training running parallel with a course indebating or other original speaking. It has been prepared with a viewalso to that large number who want to speak, or have to speak, butcannot have the advantage of a teacher. Much is therefore said in theway of caution, and untechnical language is used throughout. 

The discussion of principles in Part One is intended as a help towardsthe student's understanding of his task, and also as a common basis ofcriticism in the relation between teacher and pupil. The preliminaryfundamental work of Part Two, Technical Training, deals first with theright formation of tone, the development of voice as such, the securingof a fixed right vocal habit. Following comes the adapting of thisimproved voice to the varieties of use, or expressional effect, demanded of the public speaker. After this critical detailed drill, thestudent is to take the platform, and apply his acquired technique tocontinued discourse, receiving criticism after each entire piece ofwork. 

The question as to what should be the plan and the content of PartThree, Platform Practice, has been determined simply by asking what arethe distinctly varied conditions under which men most frequently speak. It is regarded as profitable for the student to practice, at least tosome extent, in all the several kinds of speech here chosen. In thuscultivating versatility, he will greatly enlarge his power ofexpression, and will, at length, discover wherein lies his own specialcapability. 

The principal aim in choosing the selections has been to have themsufficiently alive to be attractive to younger speakers, and not soheavy as to be unsuited to their powers. Some of them have provedeffective by use; many others are new. In all cases they are of goodquality. 

It is hoped that the new features of the book will be found useful. Oneof these is a group of lighter after-dinner speeches and anecdotes. Ithas been said that, in present-day speech-making, humor has supplantedformer-day eloquence. It plays anyway a considerable part in variouskinds of speaking. The young speaker is generally ineffective in theexpression of pleasantry, even his own. Practice in the speaking ofwholesome humor is good for cultivating quality of voice and ease ofmanner, and for developing the faculty of giving humorous turn to one'sown thought. It is also entertaining to fellow students. Other newfeatures in the book are a practice section for the kind of informalspeaking suited to the club or the classroom, and a section given tothe occasional poem, the kind of poem that is associated with speech-making. 

A considerable space is given to argumentative selections because ofthe general interest in debating, and because a need has been felt forsomething suited for special forensic practice among students of law. Some poetic selections are introduced into Part Two in order to giveattractive variety to the student's work, and to provide for theadvantage of using verse form in some of the vocal training. The fewcharacter sketches introduced may serve for cultivating facility ingiving entertaining touches to serious discourse. All the selectionsfor platform practice are designed, as seems most fitting, to occupyabout five minutes in delivery. Original speeches, wherein the studentpresents his own thought, may be intermingled with this more technicalwork in delivery, or may be taken up in a more special way in asubsequent course. 

It should, perhaps, be suggested that the plan of procedure hereprescribed can be modified to suit the individual teacher or student. The method of advance explained in the Discussion of Principles isbelieved to be the best, but some who use the book may prefer, forexample, to begin with the second group of selections, the familiar, colloquial passages, and proceed from these to those more elevated andsustained. This or any other variation from the plan here proposed can, of course, be adopted. For any plan the variety of material is deemedsufficient, and the method of grouping will be found convenient andpractical. 

The making of this kind of book would not be possible except for thegenerous privileges granted by many authors and many publishers ofcopyrighted works. For the special courtesies of all whose writingshave a place here the editor would make the fullest acknowledgment ofindebtedness. The books from which extracts are taken have beenmentioned, in every case, in a prominent place with the title of theselection, in order that so far as possible students may be ledcarefully to read the entire original, and become fully imbued with itsmeaning and spirit, before undertaking the vocal work on the selectedportion. For the purpose of such reading, it would be well to havethese books collected on a section of shelves in school libraries foreasy and ready reference. 

The publishers from whose books selections have been most liberallydrawn are, Messrs. Houghton Mifflin Company, Messrs. Lothrop, Lee andShepard, Messrs. Little, Brown, and Company, of Boston, and Messrs. Harper and Brothers, Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons, Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons, Messrs. G. W. Dillingham Company, Messrs. Doubleday, Page and Company, and Mr. C. P. Farrell, New York. Several of theafter-dinner speeches are taken from the excellent fifteen volumecollection, "Modern Eloquence, " by an arrangement with Geo. L. Shumanand Company, Chicago, publishers. In the first three volumes of thiscollection will be found many other attractive after-dinner speeches. 

I. L. W. CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS. 

CONTENTS

PREFACEINTRODUCTION

PART ONE

A DISCUSSION OF PRINCIPLES

TECHNICAL TRAINING Establishing the Tone Vocal Flexibility The Formation of Words Making the Point Indicating Values and Relations Expressing the Feeling Showing the Picture Expression by Action

PLATFORM PRACTICE The Formal Address The Public Lecture The Informal Discussion Argumentative Speech The After-Dinner Speech The Occasional Poem The Making of the Speech

PART TWO

TECHNICAL TRAINING

ESTABLISHING THE TONE O Scotia!.......................... _Robert Burns_ O Rome! My Country!................ _Lord Byron_ Ring Out, Wild Bells!.............. _Alfred Lord Tennyson_ Roll On, Thou Deep!................ _Lord Byron_ Thou Too, Sail On!................. _Henry W. Longfellow_ O Tiber, Father Tiber!............. _Lord Macaulay_ Marullus to the Roman Citizens..... _William Shakespeare_ The Recessional.................... _Rudyard Kipling_ The Cradle of Liberty.............. _Daniel Webster_ The Impeachment of Warren Hastings. _Edmund Burke_ Bunker Hill........................ _Daniel Webster_ The Gettysburg Address............. _Abraham Lincoln_

VOCAL FLEXIBILITY Cęsar, the Fighter................. _Henry W. Longfellow_ Official Duty...................... _Theodore Roosevelt_ Look Well to your Speech........... _George Herbert Palmer_ Hamlet to the Players.............. _William Shakespeare_ Bellario's Letter.................. _William Shakespeare_ Casca, Speaking of Cęsar........... _William Shakespeare_ Squandering of the Voice........... _Henry Ward Beecher_ The Training of the Gentleman...... _William J. Tucker_

MAKING THE POINT Brutus to the Roman Citizens....... _William Shakespeare_ The Precepts of Polonius........... _William Shakespeare_ The High Standard.................. _Lord Rosebery_ On Taxing the Colonies............. _Edmund Burke_ Justifying the President........... _John C. Spooner_ Britain and America................ _John Bright_

VALUES AND TRANSITIONS King Robert of Sicily.............. _Henry W. Longfellow_ Laying the Atlantic Cable.......... _James T. Fields_ O'Connell, the Orator.............. _Wendell Phillips_ Justification for Impeachment...... _Edmund Burke_ Wendell Phillips, the Orator....... _George William Curtis_ On the Disposal of Public Lands.... _Robert Y. Hayne_ The Declaration of Independence.... _Abraham Lincoln_

EXPRESSING THE FEELING Northern Greeting to Southern Veterans. ................................... _Henry Cabot Lodge_ Matches and Overmatches............ _Daniel Webster_ The Coalition...................... _Daniel Webster_ In His Own Defense................. _Robert Emmet_ On Resistance to Great Britain..... _Patrick Henry_ Invective against Louis Bonaparte.. _Victor Hugo_

SHOWING THE PICTURE Mount, the Doge of Venice!......... _Mary Russell Mitford_ The Revenge........................ _Alfred Lord Tennyson_ A Vision of War.................... _Robert G. Ingersoll_ Sunset Near Jerusalem.............. _Corwin Knapp Linson_ A Return in Triumph................ _T. De Witt Talmage_ A Return in Defeat................. _Henry W. Grady_

EXPRESSION BY ACTION In Our Forefathers' Day............ _T. De Witt Talmage_ Cassius against Cęsar.............. _William Shakespeare_ The Spirit of the South............ _Henry W. Grady_ Something Rankling Here............ _Daniel Webster_ Faith in the People................ _John Bright_ The French against Hayti........... _Wendell Phillips_ The Necessity of Force............. _John M. Thurston_ Against War with Mexico............ _Thomas Corwin_ The Murder of Lovejoy.............. _Wendell Phillips_

DEPICTING CHARACTER A Tale of the Plains............... _Theodore Roosevelt_ Gunga Din.......................... _Rudyard Kipling_ Address of Sergeant Buzfuz......... _Charles Dickens_ A Natural Philosopher.............. _Maccabe_ Response to a Toast................ _Litchfield Moseley_ Partridge at the Play.............. _Henry Fielding_ A Man's a Man for a That........... _Robert Burns_ Artemus Ward's Lecture............. _Charles Farrar Brown_ Jim Bludso, of the Prairie Belle... _John Hay_ The Trial of Abner Barrow.......... _Richard Harding Davis_

PART THREE

PLATFORM PRACTICE

THE SPEECH OF FORMAL OCCASION The Benefits of a College Education _Abbott Lawrence Lowell_ What the College Gives............. _Le Baron Russell Briggs_ Memorial Day Address............... _John D. Long_ William McKinley................... _John Hay_ Robert E. Lee...................... _John W. Daniel_ Farewell Address to the United States Senate. .................................... _Henry Clay_ The Death of Garfield.............. _James G. Blaine_ The Second Inaugural Address....... _Abraham Lincoln_ The Death of Prince Albert......... _Benjamin Disraeli_ An Appreciation of Mr. Gladstone... _Arthur J. Balfour_ William E. Gladstone............... _Lord Rosebery_ The Soldier's Creed................ _Horace Porter_ Competition in College............. _Abbott Lawrence Lowell_

THE PUBLIC LECTURE A Master of the Situation.......... _James T. Fields_ Wit and Humor...................... _Minot J. Savage_ A Message to Garcia................ _Elbert Hubbard_ Shakespeare's "Mark Antony"........ _Anonymous_ André and Hale..................... _Chauncey M. Depew_ The Battle of Lexington............ _Theodore Parker_ The Homes of the People............ _Henry W. Grady_ General Ulysses S. Grant........... _Canon G. W. Farrar_ American Courage................... _Sherman Hoar_ The Minutemen of the Revolution.... _George William Curtis_ Paul Revere's Ride................. _George William Curtis_ The Arts of the Ancients........... _Wendell Phillips_ A Man without a Country............ _Edward Everett Hale_ The Execution of Rodriguez......... _Richard Harding Davis_

THE INFORMAL DISCUSSION The Flood of Books................. _Henry van Dyke_ Effectiveness in Speaking.......... _William Jennings Bryan_ Books, Literature and the People... _Henry van Dyke_ Education for Business............. _Charles William Eliot_ The Beginnings of American Oratory. _Thomas Wentworth Higginson_ Daniel Webster, the Man............ _Thomas Wentworth Higginson_ The Enduring Value of Speech....... _Thomas Wentworth Higginson_ To College Girls................... _Le Baron Russell Briggs_ The Art of Acting.................. _Henry Irving_ Address to the Freshman Class at Harvard University .................................... _Charles William Eliot_ With Tennyson at Farringford....... _By His Son_ Notes on Speech-Making............. _Brander Matthews_ Hunting the Grizzly................ _Theodore Roosevelt_

ARGUMENT AND PERSUASION

DEBATES AND CAMPAIGN SPEECHES On Retaining the Philippine Islands _George F. Hoar_ On Retaining the Philippine Islands _William McKinley_ Debate on the Tariff............... _Thomas B. Reed_ Debate on the Tariff............... _Charles F. Crisp_ South Carolina and Massachusetts... _Robert Y. Hayne_ South Carolina and Massachusetts... _Daniel Webster_ The Republican Party............... _John Hay_ Nominating Ulysses S. Grant........ _Roscoe Conkling_ The Choice of a Party.............. _Roscoe Conkling_ Nominating John Sherman............ _James A. Garfield_ The Democratic Party............... _William E. Russell_ The Call to Democrats.............. _Alton B. Parker_ Nominating Woodrow Wilson.......... _John W. Wescott_ Democratic Faith................... _William E. Russell_ England and America................ _John Bright_ On Home Rule in Ireland............ _William E. Gladstone_

THE LEGAL PLEA The Dartmouth College Case......... _Daniel Webster_ In Defense of the Kennistons....... _Daniel Webster_ In Defense of the Kennistons, II... _Daniel Webster_ In Defense of John E. Cook......... _D. W. Voorhees_ In Defense of the Soldiers......... _Josiah Quincy, Jr. _ In Defense of the Soldiers, II..... _Josiah Quincy, Jr. _ In Defense of the Soldiers, III.... _Josiah Quincy, Jr. _ In Defense of Lord George Gordon... _Lord Thomas Erskine_ Pronouncing Sentence for High Treason ................................... _Sir Alfred Wills_ The Impeachment of Andrew Johnson.. _George S. Boutwell_ The Impeachment of Andrew Johnson.. _William M. Evarts_ The Impeachment of Andrew Johnson, II ................................... _William M. Evarts_

THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECH At a University Club Dinner........ _Henry E. Howland_ The Evacuation of New York......... _Joseph H. Choate_ Ties of Kinship.................... _Sir Edwin Arnold_ Canada, England and the United States ................................... _Sir Wilfred Laurier_ Monsieur and Madame................ _Paul Blouet (Max O'Rell)_ The Typical American............... _Henry W. Grady_ The Pilgrim Mothers................ _Joseph H. Choate_ Bright Land to Westward............ _E. O. Wolcott_ Woman.............................. _Theodore Tilton_ Abraham Lincoln.................... _Horace Porter_ To Athletic Victors................ _Henry E. Howland_

THE OCCASIONAL POEM Charles Dickens.................... _William Watson_ The Mariners of England............ _Thomas Campbell_ Class Poem......................... _Langdon Warner_ A Troop of the Guard............... _Hermann Hagedorn, Jr. _ The Boys........................... _Oliver Wendell Holmes_

THE ANECDOTE The Mob Conquered.................. _George William Curtis_ An Example of Faith................ _Henry W. Grady_ The Rail-Splitter.................. _H. L. Williams_ O'Connell's Wit.................... _Wendell Phillips_ A Reliable Team.................... _Theodore Roosevelt_ Meg's Marriage..................... _Robert Collyer_ Outdoing Mrs. Partington........... _Sidney Smith_ Circumstance not a Cause........... _Sidney Smith_ More Terrible than the Lions....... _A. A. McCormick_ Irving, the Actor.................. _John De Morgan_ Wendell Phillips's Tact............ _James Burton Pond_ Baked Beans and Culture............ _Eugene Field_ Secretary Chase's Chin-Fly......... _F. B. Carpenter_

INDEX OF TITLESINDEX OF AUTHORS

INTRODUCTION

Happily, it is no longer necessary to argue that public speaking is aworthy subject for regular study in school and college. The teaching ofthis subject, in one form or another, is now fairly well established. In each of the larger universities, including professional schools andsummer schools, the students electing the courses in speaking numberwell into the hundreds. These courses are now being more generallyplaced among those counted towards the academic degrees. The demand fortrained teachers in the various branches of the work in schools andcolleges is far above the present supply. Educators in general lookwith more favor upon this kind of instruction, recognizing itspractical usefulness and its cultural value. The question of thepresent time, then, is not whether or not the subject shall have aplace. Some sort of place it always has had and always will have. Present discussion should rather bear upon the policy and the method ofthat instruction, the qualifications to be required of teachers, andthe consideration for themselves and their work that teachers have aright to expect. 

Naturally, public speaking in the form of debating has received favoramong educators. It seems to serve the ends of practice in speaking andit gives also good mental discipline. The high regard for debating isnot misplaced. We can hardly overestimate the good that debating hasdone to the subject of speaking in the schools and colleges. The rigidintellectual discipline involved in debating has helped to establishpublic speaking in the regular curriculum, thus gaining for it, and forteachers in it, greater respect. To bring training in speech into closerelation with training in thought, and with the study of expression inEnglish, is most desirable. This, however, does _not_ mean thattraining in speech, as a distinct object in itself, should be allowedto fall into comparative neglect. It is quite possible that, along withthe healthy disapproval of false elocution and meaningless declamation, may come an underestimation of the important place of a right kind anda due degree of technical training in voice and general form. 

In a recent book on public speaking, the statement is made that it isall well enough, if it so happens, for a speaker to have a pleasingvoice, but it is not essential. This, though true in a sense, ismisleading, and much teaching of this sort would be unfortunate foryoung speakers. It would seem quite unnecessary to say that beauty ofvoice is not in itself a primary object in vocal training for publicspeaking. The object is to make voices effective. In the effective useof any other instrument, we apply the utmost skill for the perfectadjustment or coordination of all the means of control. We do this forthe attainment of power, for the conserving of energy, for the insuringof endurance and ease of operation. This is the end in the training ofthe voice. It is to avoid friction. It is to prevent nervous strain, muscular distortion, and failing power, and to secure easy response tothe will of the speaker. The point not wholly understood or heeded isthat, as a rule, the unpleasing voice is an indication of illadjustment and friction. It denotes a mechanism wearing on itself--itmeans a voice that will weaken or fail before its time--a voice thatneeds repair. 

Since speech is to express a speaker's thought, training in speechshould not be altogether dissociated from training in thinking. Itought to go hand in hand, indeed, with the study of English, from firstto last. But training in voice and in the method of speech is atechnical matter. It ought not to be left to the haphazard treatment, the intense spurring on, of vocally unskilled coaches for speakingcontests. Discussions about the teaching of speaking are often verycurious. We are frequently told by what means a few great orators havesucceeded, but we are hardly ever informed of the causes from whichmany other speakers have been embarrassed or have failed. A book oressay is written to prove, from the individual experience of theauthor, the infallibility of a method. He was able to succeed, theargument runs, only by this or that means; therefore all should do ashe did. It seems very plausible and attractive to read, for instance, that to succeed in speaking, it is only necessary to plunge in and bein earnest. But another writer points out that this is quite absurd;that many poor speakers have not lacked in intense earnestness andsincerity; that it isn't feeling or intense spirit alone that insuressuccess, but it is the attainment as well of a vocal method. Yet hegoes on to argue that this vocal method, this forming of a publicspeaking voice and style, cannot be rightly gained from the teachers;it must be acquired through the exercise of each man's own will; if aman finds he is going wrong he must will to go right--as if many menhad not persistently but unsuccessfully exercised their will to thisvery end. It is so easy, and so attractive, to resolve all problemsinto one idea. President Woodrow Wilson, of Princeton University, oncesaid that he always avoided the man or the book that proclaimed oneidea for the correcting of society's ills. These ideas on which booksor essays are written are too obviously fallacious to need extendedcomment; the wonder is that they are often quoted and commended asbeing beneficial in their teaching. If we want to row or sprint or playgolf, we do not simply go in and do our utmost; we apply the besttechnical skill to the art; we seek to learn how, from the experienceof the past, and through the best instructors obtainable. Both commonsense and experience show that the use of the human voice in the art ofspeaking is not the one thing, among all things, that cannot besuccessfully taught. The results of vocal teaching show, on thecontrary, from multitudes of examples, from volumes of testimony, thatthere are few branches of instruction wherein the specially trainedteacher is so much needed, and can be so effective as in the art ofspeaking. 

In an experience extending over many years, an experience dealing withabout all the various forms of public speaking and vocal teaching, thepresent writer has tried many methods, conducted classes on severaldifferent plans, learned the needs, observed the efforts, consideredthe successes and failures, of many men and women of various ages andof many callings. The constant and insistent fact in all this period ofexperience has been that skillful, technical instruction, as such, isthe one kind of instruction that should always be provided where publicspeaking is taught, and the one that the student should not fail tosecure when it is at hand. Other elements in good speech-making may, ifnecessary, be obtained from other sources. The teacher of speakingshould teach speech. He should teach something else also, but heshould, as a technician, teach that. The multitude of men and womenwho, in earlier and later life, come, in vocal trouble, to seek helpfrom the experienced teacher, and the abundance of testimony as to thesatisfactory results; the repeated evidences of failure to producerightly trained voices wholly by so-called inspirational methods; thefrequent evidences of pernicious vocal results from the forcing ofyoung voices in the overintense and hasty efforts made in preparing forprize speaking, acting, and debating, --all these may not come to theunderstanding of the ordinary observer; they may not often, perhaps, come within the experience of the exceptionally gifted individuals whoare usually cited as examples of distinguished success; they cannotimpress themselves on educators who have little or no relation withthis special subject; they naturally come into the knowledge andexperience of the specially trained teacher of public speaking, who isbrought into intimate relations with the subject and deals with allsorts and conditions of men. Out of this experience comes the strongconviction that the teacher of public speaking should be a vocaltechnician and a vocal physician, able to teach constructively and totreat correctively, knowing all he can of all that has been taughtbefore, but teaching only as much of what he knows as is necessary toany individual. 

For the dignity and worth of the teaching, the teacher of speakingshould be trained, and should be a trainer, as has been indirectlysaid, in some other subject--in English literature or composition, indebating, history, or what not. He should be one of the academicfaculty--concerned with thought, which speech expresses. He should not, for his other subject, be mainly concerned with gymnastics orathletics; he should not, for his own good and the consequent good ofhis work, be wholly taken up merely with the teaching of technical formin speaking. He should not be merely--if at all--a coach in inter-collegiate contests; nor should his service to an institution beadjudged mainly by the results of such contests. He should be anindependent, intellectually grown and growing man, one who--in hisexceptionally intimate relations with students--will have a large andright influence on student life. The offer recently held out by auniversity of a salary and an academic rank equal to its best, to asufficiently qualified instructor in public speaking, was one of theseveral signs of a sure movement of to-day in the right direction--thedemand for a man of high character and broad culture, specially skilledin the technical subject he was to teach, and the providing of a worthyposition. 

One fact that needs to be impressed upon governing bodies of school andcollege is that the cultivation of good speaking cannot but beunsatisfactory when it is continued over only a very brief time. It mayonly do mischief. A considerable period is necessary, as is the casewith other subjects, for reaching the student intelligence, for moldingthe faculties, for maturing the powers, for adapting method to theindividual, and for bringing the personality out through the method, sothat method disappears. Senator George F. Hoar once gave very sensibleadvice in an address to an audience of Harvard students. He did notcontent himself with dwelling on the inevitable platitude, first havesomething to say, and then say it; he said he had been, in all hiscareer, at a special disadvantage in public speaking, from the want ofearly training in the use of his voice; and he urged that studentswould do well not only to take advantage of such training in college, but to have their teacher, if it were possible, follow them, for atime, into their professional work. This idea was well exemplified inthe case of Phillips Brooks--a speaker of spontaneity, simplicity, andsplendid power. It is said that, in the period of his pulpit work, inthe midst of his absorbing church labors, he made it a duty to go fromtime to time for a period of work with his teacher of voice, that hemight be kept from falling back into wrong ways. It is often said that, if a man has it in him, he will speak well anyway. It is emphaticallythe man who has it in him, the man of intense temperament, like that ofPhillips Brooks, who most needs the balance wheel, the sure reliance, of technique. That this technique should not be too technical; thatform should not be too formal; that teaching should not be too good, ordo too much, is one of the principles of good teaching. The pointinsisted on is that a considerable time is needed, as it is in otherkinds of teaching, for thoroughly working out a few essentialprinciples; for overcoming a few obstinate faults; for securing maturedresults by the right process of gradual development. 

There is much cause for gratification in the evidences of a growingappreciation, in all quarters, of the place due to spoken English, as astudy to be taught continuously side by side with written English. Muchprogress has also been made toward making youthful platform speaking, as well as youthful writing, more rational in form, more true inspirit, more useful for its purpose. In good time written and spokenEnglish, conjoined with disciplinary training in thought andimagination, will both become firmly established in their proper placeas subjects to be thoroughly and systematically taught. Good teachingwill become traditional, and good teachers not rare. And among thespecialized courses in public speaking an important place should alwaysbe given to an exact training in voice and in the whole art ofeffective delivery. 

PART ONE

A DISCUSSION OF PRINCIPLES

TECHNICAL TRAINING

ESTABLISHING THE TONE

The common trouble in using the voice for the more vigorous or intenseforms of speaking is a contraction or straining of the throat. Thisimpedes the free flow of voice, causing impaired tone, poorenunciation, and unhealthy physical conditions. Students should, therefore, be constantly warned against the least beginnings of thisfault. The earlier indications of it may not be observed, or the natureof the trouble may not be known, by the untrained speaker. But it oughtto have, from the first, the attention of a skilled teacher, for themore deep-seated it becomes, the harder is its cure. So very common isthe "throaty" tone and so connected is throat pressure with every othervocal imperfection, that the avoiding or the correcting of this onefault demands constant watchfulness in all vigorous vocal work. The wayto avoid the faulty control of voice is, of course, to learn at theproper time the general principles of what singers call voiceproduction. These principles are few and, in a sense, are very simple, but they are not easily made perfectly clear in writing, and a perfectapplication of them, even in the simpler forms of speaking, oftenrequires persistent practice. It will be the aim here to state onlywhat the student is most likely to understand and profit by, and toleave the rest to the personal guidance of a teacher. 

The control of the voice, so far as it can be a conscious physicaloperation, is determined chiefly by the action of the breathing musclesabout the waist and the lower part of the chest. The voice may be saidto have its foundation in this part of the physical man. Thisfoundation, or center of control, will be rightly established, not byany very positive physical action; not by a decided raising of thechest; not by any such marked expansion or contraction as to bringphysical discomfort or rigid muscular conditions. When the breath istaken in, by an easy, natural expansion, much as air is taken into abellows, there is, to a certain degree, a firming of the breathingmuscles; but this muscular tension is felt by the speaker or singer, iffelt at all, simply as a comfortable fullness around, and slightlyabove, the waistline, probably more in front than elsewhere. An eminentteacher of singing tells his pupils to draw the breath into thestomach. That probably suggests the sensation. When the breath has beentaken in, it is to be gently withheld, --not given up too freely, --andthe tone is formed on the top, so to speak, of this body of breath, chiefly, of course, in the mouth and head. For the stronger and largervoice the breath is not driven out and dissipated, but the tone isintensified and given completer resonance within--within the nasal orhead cavities, somewhat within the pharynx and chest. This body ofbreath, easily held in good control, by the lower breathing muscles, forms what is called the vocal "support. " It is a fixed base ofcontrol. It is a fundamental condition, and is to be steadilymaintained in all the varied operations of the voice. 

Since this fundamental control of voice is so important, breathingexercises are often prescribed for regular practice. Such exercises, when directed by a thoroughly proficient instructor, may be vocallyeffective, and beneficial to health. Unwisely practiced, they may beunfitted to vocal control and of positive physical harm. Moderatelytaking the breath at frequent intervals, as a preparation orreėnforcement for speaking, should become an unconscious habit. Excessive filling of the lungs or pressing downward upon the abdomenshould be avoided. In general, the hearing of the voice, and anexpressional purpose in making the voice, are the better means ofacquiring good breathing. For the purposes of public speaking, atleast, it is seldom necessary to do much more, in regard to thebreathing, than to instruct a student against going wrong. The speakershould have a settled feeling of sufficiency; he should hold himselfwell together, physically and morally, avoiding nervous agitation andphysical collapse; he should allow the breath freedom rather than putit under unnatural constraint. Perfect breathing can only be known bycertain qualities in the voice. When it is best, the process is leastobserved. The student learns the method of breathing mainly by notingthe result, by rightly hearing his voice. He must, after all, practicethrough the hearing. 

The discussion of vocal support has brought us to the second mainprinciple, the government of the throat. The right control of thevoice, by placing a certain degree of tension upon the breathingmuscles, tends to take away all pressure and constraint from thethroat, leaving that passage seemingly open and free, so that thebreath body or column; as some conceive it, seems almost unbroken incontinued speech, much as it is, or should be, in prolonging tone insinging. The throat is opened in a relaxed rather than a constrainedway, so as to give free play for the involuntary action of the delicatevocal muscles connected with the larynx, which determine all the finervariations of voice. Whatever kind of vocal effort is made, the studentshould constantly guard himself against the least throat stiffening orcontraction, against what vocalists call a "throat grip. " He is verylikely to make some effort with the throat, or vocal muscles, whenputting the voice to any unusual test--when prolonging tone, raising orlowering the pitch, giving sharp inflections, or striking hard uponwords for emphasis. In these and other vocal efforts the throat musclesshould be left free to do their own work in their own way. The throatis to be regarded as a way through; the motive power is below thethroat; the place for giving sound or resonance, to voice, for stampingupon words their form and character, is in the mouth, front and back, and especially in the head. 

The last of the three main considerations, the concentration of tonewhere it naturally seems to be formed, is often termed voice "placing, "or "placement. " The possible objection to this term is that it maysuggest a purely artificial or arbitrary treatment or method. Rightlyunderstood, it is the following of nature. Its value is that itemphasizes the constancy of this one of the constant factors in voice. Its result is a certain kind and degree of monotony; without thatparticular kind of monotony the voice is faulty. When the tone isforced out of its proper place, it is dissipated and more or less lost. A student once told the writer, when complimented on the good placementof his voice, that he learned this in his summer employment as a publiccrier at the door of a show tent. He said he could not possibly haveendured the daily wear upon the voice in any other way. Voices areheard among teamsters, foremen on the street, and auctioneers, thatconform to this and other principles perfectly. We may say that in suchcases the process of learning is unconscious. In the case of theuntaught student it was conscious, and was exactly what he would havebeen instructed to do by a teacher. The point is that many cannot learnby themselves, and our more unconscious doings are likely to become ourbad habits. 

Just what this voice placement is can perhaps be observed simply bysounding the letter "m, " or giving an ordinary hum, as the mother singsto the child. It is merely finding the natural, instinctive basal formof the voice, and making all the vowels simply as variations of thisform. The hum is often practiced, with a soft pure quality, by singers. It is varied by the sound of "ng, " as in "rung" or "hung, " and theelemental sound of "l. " The practice should always be varied, however, by a fuller sounding of the rounder vowels, lest the voice become toomuch confined or thinned. The speaker, like the singer, must find outhow, by a certain adjustment all along the line from the breathingcenter to the point of issue of the breath at the front of the mouth, he can easily maintain a constant hitting place, to serve as the hammerhead; one singing place for carrying the voice steadily through asustained passage; one place where, as it were, the tone is held incheck so it will not break through itself and go to pieces, --a "placingof the voice, " which is to be preserved in every sort of change or playof tone, whether in one's own character or an assumed character; aconstant focus or a fixed center of resonance, a forming of tone alongthe roof of the mouth and well forward in the head, the safeguard and, practically, the one most effective idea in the government of voice. 

And now it should be hastily stated that this excellent idea, likeother good things, may be easily abused. If the tone is pushed forwardor crowded into the head or held tight in its place, in the leastdegree, there is a drawing or a cramping in the throat; there is a"pressing" of the voice. It should be remembered that the constancy ofhigh placement of tone depends upon the certainty of the tonefoundation; that, after all, the voice must rest upon itself, and mustnot sound as if it were up on tip-toe or on stilts; that tone placementis merely a convenient term for naming a natural condition. 

As a final word on this part of the discussion, the student should ofcourse be impressed with the idea that though these three features ofvocal mechanism have been considered separately, all ideas about voiceare ultimately to become one idea. The voice is to be thought of asbelonging to the whole man, and is to become the spontaneous expressionof his feelings and will; it should not draw attention to anyparticular part of the physical man; whatever number of conditions maybe considered, the voice is finally to be one condition, a condition ofnormal freedom. 

A lack of freedom is indicated in the voice, as in other kinds ofmechanism by some sign of friction--by a harsh tone from a constrainedthroat; by a nasal or a muffled tone, from some obstruction in thenasal passages of the head, either because of abnormal physicalconditions, or because of an unnatural direction of the breath, mainlydue probably to speaking with a closed mouth; by a bound-up, heavy, "chesty" tone, resulting from a labored method of breathing. 

Voice in its freer state should be pure, clear, round, fairly musical, and fairly deep and rich. Its multitude of expressive qualities hadbetter be cultivated by the true purpose to express, in the simplestway, sentiments appropriated to one's self through an understanding anda comprehensive appreciation of various passages of good literature. Assoon as possible all technique is to be forgotten, unless theconsciousness is pricked by something going wrong. 

Voices in general need, in the larger development, to be rounded. Thevowel forms "oo" as in moon, "o" as in roll, and "a" as in saw, greatlyhelp in giving a rounded form to the general speech; for all vowels canbe molded somewhat into the form of these rounder ones. The vowels "e"as in meet, "a" as in late, short "e" as in met, short "a" as in sat, are likely to be made very sharp, thin, and harsh. When a passage forpractice begins with round vowels, as for example, "Roll on, thou deepand dark blue ocean, roll!" the somewhat rounded form of the lips, andthe opened condition of the throat produced in forming the roundervowels, can be to some extent maintained through the whole of thepassage, in forming all the vowels; and this will give, by repeatedpractice, a gradually rounded and deepened general character to thevoice. On the other hand the thinner, sharper vowels may serve to givekeenness and point to tones too thick and dull. In applying thesesuggestions, as well as all other vocal suggestions, moderation andgood sense must be exercised, for the sake of the good outwardappearance and the good effect of the speaking. The chief vowel formsrunning from the deepest to the most shallow are: "oo" as in moon, "o"as in roll, "a" as in saw, "a" as in far, "a" as in say, "e" as in see. 

Since the making of tones means practically the shaping of vowels, something should here be said about vowel forms. The mouth openingshould of course be freely shaped for the best sounding of the vowels. For the vowel "a" as in far, the mouth is rather fully opened; for "a"as in saw, it is opened deep, that is, the mouth passage is somewhatnarrowed, so as to allow increased depth. The vowel "o, " as in no, hastwo forms, the clear open "o, " and the "o" somewhat covered by a closerform of the lips, Commonly, when the vowel is prolonged, the initialform, that is the open "o, " is held, with the closed form, like "oo" inmoon, touched briefly as the tone is finished. So with long "i" (y), asin thy, and "ou, " as in thou--the first form is like a broad "a" as infar, with short "i" (sit) ending the "i" (y), and "oo" (moon) endingthe "ou. " This final sound, though sometimes accentuated for humorouseffect, is usually not to be made prominent. The sound of "oi, " as invoice, has the main form of "aw" as in saw, and the final form in short"i, " as in pin. The vowel "u" is sounded like "oo" (moon) in a fewwords, as in rule, truth. Generally, it sounds about like "ew" in newor mew. In some of the forms the front of the mouth will be open, insome half open, and in some, as in the case of long "e" (meet), nearlyclosed. Whatever the degree of opening, the jaw should never be allowedto become stiffly set, nor the tongue nor lips to be held tight, in anydegree or way. These faults cause a tightening in the throat, andaffect the character of the tone. It will generally be advantage to thetone if the lips are trained to be very slightly protruding, in bellshape, and if the corners of the mouth be not allowed to droop, but bemade very slightly to curve upward. The tongue takes of course variouspositions for different vowels. For our purposes, it may be sufficientto say that it will play its part best if it be not stiffened but isleft quite free and elastic, perhaps quite relaxed, and if the tip ofit be made to play easily down behind the lower teeth. 

Since voice has here been discussed in an objective sort of way, it isfitting to emphasize the importance of what is called naturalness, ormore correctly, simplicity. Everybody desires this sort of result. Itcan readily be seen, however, that about everything we do is a secondnature; is done, that is to say, in the acquired, acceptable, conventional way. Voice and speech are largely determined bysurrounding influences, and what we come to regard as natural may beonly an acquired bad habit, which is, in fact, quite unnatural. Voiceshould certainly be what we call human. Better it should have somehuman faults than be smoothed out into negative perfection, without thetrue ring, the spunk of individuality. There is, nevertheless, a bestnaturalness, or second nature, and a worst. The object of training isto find the best. 

In this discussion of voice some of the ideas often applied to thefirst steps in the cultivation of singing have been presented, as thosemost effective also for training in speech. Although, on the surface, singing and speaking are quite different, fundamentally they are thesame. Almost all persons have, if they will use it, an ear for musicalpitch and tone, and the neglect to cultivate, in early life, themusical hearing and the singing tone is a mistake. To prospectivepublic speakers it is something like a misfortune. The best speakershave had voices that sang in their speaking. This applies distinctly tothe speaking, for example, of Wendell Phillips, who is commonly calledthe most colloquial of our public speakers. It has often been commentedon in the case of Gladstone, and applies peculiarly to some of ourpresent-day speakers, who would be called, not orators, but impressivetalkers. The meaning is, not of course that speaking should sound likesinging, or necessarily like oratory, but that to the trained ear thebest speaking has fundamentally the singing conditions, and the voicehas singing qualities; and the elementary exercises designed forsinging are excellent, in their simpler forms and methods, for thespeaking voice. In carrying out this idea in voice training, theselections here given for the earliest exercises, are such as naturallycall for some slight approach to the singing tone. Some are in thespirit and style of song or hymn; others are in the form of address todistant auditors, wherein the reciter would call to a distance, or"sing out, " as we say. This kind of speaking is a way of quickly"bringing out" the voice. Young students especially are very apt inthis, getting the idea at once, though needing, as a rule, specialcautions and guidance for keeping the proper vocal conditions, so as toprevent "forcing. " The passages are simple in spirit and form. Theycarry on one dominant feeling, needing little variation of voice. Theidea is to render them in a way near to the monotone, that the studentmay learn to control one tone, so to speak, or to speak nearly in onekey, before doing the more varied tones of familiar speech or ofcomplex feeling. We might say the passages are to be read in somedegree like the chant; but the chant is likely to bring an excess ofhead resonance and is too mechanical. The true spirit of the selectionsis to be given, from the first, but reduced to its very simplest form. Difficulties arise, in this first step, in the case of two classes ofstudent: those who lack sentiment or imagination, or at least thefaculty of vocally expressing it, and those with an excess of feeling. The former class have to be mentally awakened; for some motive element, aesthetic appreciation or imaginative purpose, should play a part, ashas been said, even in technical vocal training. The latter class mustbe restrained. Excessive emotion either chokes off expression, or runsaway with itself. Calmness, evenness, poise, the easy control thatcomes from a degree of relaxation, without loss of buoyancy, --these arethe conditions for good accomplishment of any kind. This self-masterythe high-strung, ardent spirit must learn, in order to become reallystrong. This is accomplished, in the case of a nervous temperament, notby tightening up and trying hard, but by relaxing, by letting down. Inthe use of these passages the voice will be set at first slightly highin pitch, in order to help in keeping a continuous sounding of toneagainst the roof of the mouth and to a proper degree in the head. Thisaverage pitch, or key, or at least the character of the tone, will bemaintained without much change, and with special care that the tone bekept up in its place at the ends of lines or sentences, and be keptwell fixed on its breath foundation. The simpler inflections indicatingthe plain meaning, will of course be observed, the tone will be kepteasily supported by the frequently recovered breath that is under it. The back of the mouth will seem to be constantly somewhat open. Therewill be no attempt at special power, but only a free, mellow, flowingtone of moderate strength. In the exercise each voice will be treated, in detail, according to its particular needs, and in each teacher's ownway. 

At the time of student life, when physical conditions are not matured, the counsel should repeatedly be given, not only that the voice, thoughused often and regularly, should be used moderately, but also that thevoice should be kept youthful--youthful, if it can be, even in age--butespecially in youth, whatever the kind of literature used for practice. Also youth should be counseled not to try to make a voice like thevoice of some one else, some speaker, or actor, or teacher. It will bemuch the best if it is just the student's own. 

VOCAL FLEXIBILITY

In the earliest exercises here given the tone will be, for the best andmost immediate effect, kept running on somewhat in a straight line, soto speak; will have a certain sameness of sound; will be perhapssomewhat monotonous, because kept pretty much in one key, or in oneaverage degree of pitch. It will perhaps be necessary to make theutterance for the time somewhat artificial. The voice is in theartificial stage, as is the work of an oarsman, for example, inlearning the parts of the stroke, or that of a golfer in learning the"swing, " although in the case of some students, when the vocalconditions are good and the tone is well balanced, very little of theartificial process is necessary. In that case the voice simply needs, in its present general form, to be developed. 

The next step in the training is to try a more varied use of the voice, without a loss of what has been acquired as to formation of tone. Thestudent is to make himself able to slide the voice up and down inpitch, by what is called inflection, to raise or lower the pitch byvaried intervals, momentarily to enlarge or diminish the tone, inexpressive ways; in short, to adapt the improved tone, the moreeffective method of voice control, to more varied speech. In the earlypractice for getting tone variation, the student must guard mostcarefully against "forcing. " Additional difficulties arise when we havevocal changes, and moderate effort, in the degree of the change, isbest. In running the tone up, one should let the voice take its ownway. The tone should not be pushed or held by any slightest effort atthe throat. The control should, as has been said, be far below thethroat. In running an inflection from low to high, the tone may beallowed, especially in the earlier practice, to thin out at the top. And always when the pitch is high the tone should be smaller, as it ison a musical instrument, though it should have a consistent depth anddignity from its proper degree of connection with the chest. Thisconsistent character in the upper voice is attained by giving the tonea bit of pomp or nobleness of quality. In taking a low pitch there is, among novices, always a tendency to bear down on the tone in order togain strength or to give weight to utterance. The voice is thus crowdedinto, or on, the throat. The voice should never be pushed down orpressed back in the low pitch. This practice leads to raggedness oftone, and finally to virtual loss of the lower voice. The voice shouldfall of itself with only that degree of force which is legitimatelygiven by the breath tension, produced easily, though firmly, by thebreathing muscles. Breadth will be given to the tone by some degree ofexpansion at the back of the mouth, or in the pharynx. As soon as canbe, the speech should be brought down to the utmost of simplicity andnaturalness, so that the thought of literature can be expressed withreality and truth; can be made to sound exactly as if it came as anunstudied, spontaneous expression of the student's own mind, and yet soit can be heard, so it will be adequate, so it will be pleasing insound. The improved tone is to become the student's inevitable, everyday voice. 

THE FORMATION OF WORDS

The term enunciation means the formation of words, including rightvocal shape to the vowels and right form to the consonants. Pronunciation is scholastic, relating to the word accent and the vowelsound. Authority for this is in the dictionary. Enunciation, belongingto elocution, is the act of forming those authorized sounds intofinished speech. 

There is a common error regarding enunciation. It is usual, if aspeaker is not easily understood, to say that he should "articulate"more clearly; that is, make the consonants more pronounced, and youngstudents are thus often urged into wrongly directed effort with thetongue and lips. Sometimes in books, articulation "stunts, " in the formof nonsense alliterations, are prescribed, by which all the vowels arelikely to be chewed into consonants. The result is usually anoverexertion, and a consequent tightening, of the articulating muscles. At first, and for a time, it may appear that this forcing of thearticulation brings the desired result of clearer speech, but it will, in the end, be destructive to voice and bring incoherent utterance. Articulation exercises too difficult for the master, should not begiven to the novice. All teachers of singing train voices, at first, onthe vowel, and it should be known that, without right vowel, or tone, formation, efforts at good articulation are futile. Every technicalvocal fault must be referred back to the fundamental condition of rightformation of tone, that is, the vowel. Sputtering, hissing, biting, snapping, of consonants is not enunciation. The student should learnhow without constraint, to prolong vowels; learn, if you please, thefundamentals of singing, and articulation, the formation of consonants, the jointing of syllables, will become easy. The reason for this isthat when the vowel tone is rightly produced, all the vocal muscles arefreed; the tongue, lips, and jaw act without constraint. 

The principle of rhythm simplifies greatly the problem of enunciation. It is easier, not only to make good tone, but also to speak words, inthe reading of verse than of prose. It is much easier to read arhythmical piece of prose than one lacking in rhythm. All prose, then, should be rendered with as much rhythmical flow as is allowedconsistently with its spirit and meaning. Care must be taken of coursethat no singsong effect occurs; that the exact meaning receives firstattention. In case of long, hard words, ease is attained by making aslight pause before the word or before its preposition or article orother closely attached word, and by giving a strong beat to itsaccented syllable or syllables, with little effort on the subordinatesyllables. 

The particular weakness among Americans, in the speaking of words, isfailure adequately to form the nasal, or head, sounds. The letters "l, ""m, " "n, " are called vowel consonants. They can be given continuoussound, a head resonance. This sounding may be carried to a fault, oraffectation; but commonly it is insufficiently done, and it should beamong the first objects of cultivation in vocal practice. The hummingof these head sounds, with very moderate force, is excellent fordeveloping and clearing this resonance. The "ng" sound, as in rung, maybe added. 

Improper division of words into syllables is a common fault. The word"constitution, " for example, is made "cons-titution, " instead of "con-stitution;" "prin-ciple" is pronounced "prints-iple. " A clean, correctformation should be made by slightly holding, and completing theaccented syllable. The little word "also" is often called "als-o" or"als-so" or "alt-so"; chrysanthemum is pronounced "chrysant-themum";coun-try is called "country, " band so forth. In the case of doubledconsonants, as in the word "mellow, " "commemorate, " "bubble, " and thelike, a momentary holding of the first consonant, so that a bit ofseparate impulse is given to the second, makes more perfect speaking. There is a slight difference between "mel-low" and "mel-ow, " "bub-ble"and "bub-le, " "com-memorate" and "com-emorate. " These finerdistinctions, if one cares to make speech accurate and refined, can beobserved in words ending in "ence" and "ance" as in "guidance" and"credence"; in words with the ending "al, " "el, " or "le, " as in"general, " "principal, " "final, " "vessel, " "rebel, " "principle, " and"little. " If that troublesome word "separate" were from the beginningrightly pronounced, it would probably be less often wrongly spelled. One should hasten to say, however, that over-nicety in enunciation, pedantic exactness, obtrusive "elocutionary" excellence, or any sort oflabored or affected effort should be carefully guarded against. Theline of distinction between what is perfect and what is slightlystrained is a fine one. Very often, for example, one hears such endingsas "or" in "creator, " "ed" in "dedicated, " "ess" in "readiness, " "men"in "gentlemen, " pronounced with incorrect prominence. These syllables, being very subordinate, should not be made to stand out with unduedistinctness, and though the vowels should not be distorted into awrong form, they should be obscured. In "gentlemen, " for example, the"e" is, according to the dictionary, an "obscure" vowel, and the wordis pronounced almost as "gentlem'n, "--not "gentle_mun_, " of course, but not "gentlem_e_n. " The fault in such forms is more easilyavoided by throwing a sharp accent on the accented syllable, letting the other syllables fall easily out. The expression ofgreeting, "Ladies and gentlemen, " should have a strong accent on eachfirst syllable of the two important words, with little prominence givento other syllables or the connecting word; as, "La'dies 'ndgen'tlem'n. "

In the same class of errors is that of making an extra syllable in suchwords as "even, " "seven, " "heaven, " "eleven, " and "given, " whereproperly the "e" is elided, leaving "ev'n, " "heav'n, " and so forth. Themouth should remain closed when the first syllable is pronounced; the"n" is then simply sounded in the head. The same treatment should begiven to such words as "chasm" and "enthusiasm. " If the mouth is openedafter the first part of the word is sounded, we have "chas-_u_m, ""enthusias-_u_m. " The little words "and, " "as, " "at" and the likeshould, of course, when not emphatic, be very lightly touched, with thevowel hardly formed, and the mouth only slightly opened. The word "and"is best sounded, where not emphatic, with light touch, slight openingof the mouth, and hardly any forming of the vowel; almost like "'nd. "These words should be connected closely with the word which follows, asif they were a subordinate syllable of that word. 

Often we hear such words as "country, " "city, " and their plurals, pronounced "countree, " "citee, " and "citees"; "ladies" is called"ladees. " The sound should properly be that of short "i" not of long"e. " The vowel sound, short "a, " as in "cast, " "fast, " "can't, " must betreated as a localism, and yet it is hardly necessary to adhere to anydecided extreme because of local associations. Vocally, the very narrowsound of short "a, " called "Western, " is impossible. It can't be sung;in speech it is usually dry and harsh. As a matter of taste the verybroad sound of the short "a, " when it is made like "a" in "far, " isobjectionable because it is extraordinary. There is a form betweenthese extremes, the correct short "a"; this ought to be acceptableanywhere. It is suggestive to observe that localisms are lesspronounced among artists than among untrained persons. Trained singersand actors belonging to different countries or sections of country, show few differences among themselves in English pronunciation. Amonglocalisms the letter "r" causes frequent comment. In singing anddramatic speaking, this letter is best formed at the tip of the tongue. In common speech it may be made only by a very slight movement at theback of the tongue. A decided throaty "burr" should always be avoided. In the case of vigorous dramatic utterance, the "r" may be quitedecidedly rolled, on the principle that, in such cases, all consonantsbecome a means of effectiveness in expression. In the expression offine, delicate, or tender sentiment, all consonants should be lightlytouched or should be obscured. Enumeration of the many kinds ofcarelessness of speech would be to little purpose. Scholarly speechrequires a knowledge of correct forms, gained from the dictionary, andvocal care and skill in making these forms clear, smooth, and finishedin sound. 

This discussion has perhaps suggested the extreme of accuracy inspeech. But as has already been said, any degree of overnicety, ofpedantic elegance, of stilted correctness, is especially irritating toa sensitive ear. Excessive biting off of syllables, flipping of thetongue, showing of the teeth, twisting of the lips, is carryingexcellence to a fault. The inactive jaw, tongue, and lips must be mademobile, and in the working away of clumsiness and slovenliness ofspeech, some degree of stiltedness must perhaps, for a time, be inevidence, but matured practice ought finally to result, not only inaccuracy and finish, but in simplicity and ease in speaking. 

MAKING THE POINT

When the student has made a fair degree of progress in the morestrictly mechanical features of speech, the formation of tone, and thedelivery of words, he is ready to give himself up more fully to theeffective expression of thought. Of first importance to the speaker, asit is to the writer, is the way to make himself clear as to hismeaning. The question has to be put again and again to the youngspeaker, What is your point? What is the point in the sentence? What isthe point in some larger division of the speech? What is the point, orpurpose, of the speech as a whole? This point, or the meaning of whatis said, should be so put, should be so clear, that no effort isrequired of a listener for readily apprehending and appreciating it. Discussing now only the question of delivery, we say that the making ofa point depends mainly upon what we commonly call emphasis. Extendingthe meaning of emphasis beyond the limit of mere stress, or weight, ofvoice, we may define it as special distinctness or impressiveness ofeffect. In the case of a sentence there is often one place where themeaning is chiefly concentrated; often the emphasis is laid sharplyupon two or more points or words in the sentence; sometimes it is putincreasingly on immediately succeeding words, called a climax, andsometimes the stress of utterance seems to be almost equallydistributed through all the principal words of the sentence. 

The particular point of a sentence is determined, not so much by whatthe sentence says as it stands by itself, as by its relation to whatgoes before or what follows after. The first thing, then, for thestudent to do is to become sure of the precise meaning of the sentence, with reference to the general context. Then he must know whether or nothe says, for the understanding of others, exactly what is meant. Themeans of giving special point to a statement is in some way to setapart, or to make prominent, the word or words of special significance. There are several ways in which this is done. Commonly a stress oradded weight of voice is put upon the word; generally, too, there is aninflection, a turning of the tone downward or upward; there isfrequently a lengthening out of the vowel sound, and a sudden stopafter, in some cases before, the word. Any or all these specialnoticeable vocal effects serve to draw attention to the word and giveit expressive significance. These effects are everywhere common in goodeveryday speech. In the formal art of speaking, they have to be more orless thought out and consciously practiced. 

Emphasis is determined by the comparative importance of ideas. An ideais important when, being the first to arise in the mind, it becomes themotive for utterance. We see an object, the idea of high or broad orbeautiful arises in the mind; we so form a sentence as to make thatidea stand forth; this idea, or the word expressing it, becomes vocallyemphatic. In this sentence, "He has done it in a way to impress uponthe Filipinos, so far as action and language can do it, his desire, andthe desire of our people, _to do them good_, " the idea "to do themgood" is the one that arose first in the mind of the speaker and calledup the other ideas that served to set this one prominently forth. It isthe emphatic idea. It should be carried in the mind of the studentspeaker from the beginning of the sentence. Again, an idea is importantwhen it arises as closely related to the first, and becomes the chiefmeans of giving utterance concerning the first. This second idea may besomething said about the first; it may be compared or contrasted withthe first. Being matched against the first, it may become of equalsignificance with it. "Who is here so _base_ that would be a_bondman_?" Here the idea "base" is used to emphasize the qualityof "bondman, " and becomes equally emphatic with that idea. Other ideas, or other words expressing them, being formed around these principalones, will be subordinated or more loosely run over, since they simplyserve as the setting for the principal ones, or the connecting links, holding them together. Sometimes an idea arising in the mind grows inintensity, asserting itself by stronger and stronger successive words. For example, "He _mocks_ and _taunts_ her, he _disowns, insults_ and_flouts_ her"; and, "I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly _outraged, injured_, and _oppressed_, in bothsexes in every _age, rank, situation_, and _condition of life_. " Theimpressiveness in delivering these successive words is increased notbecause they are in the form of a climax, but they are in the form of aclimax because the thought is so insistent as to require new words forits expression. The student will be true and sure in his emphasis onlywhen he takes ideas into his mind in the natural way; that is, heshould seize upon the central idea before he gives utterance to anypart of a statement. If that idea is constantly carried foremost in themind, he will then, in due time, give it its true emphasis. So, in thecase of a climax, he must realize the spirit and force behind theutterance, and not depend upon any mechanical process of merelyincreasing the strength of his tones. 

Sometimes emphasis must be made to stand so strong as not merely toarrest the movement of thought, and fix the mind of the hearer upon apoint, but to turn the attention of the hearer for the moment aside; todraw his mind to the thought of something very remote in time or placeor relation, as in the case of making momentary reference to somehistoric fact or some well-known expression of literature. Allusionsand illustrations, then, should be given, not only with color but alsowith special emphasis. Byron, contemplating the ruins of Rome, callsher "the _Niobe_ of nations. " The hearer's mind should be arrested, hisimagination stirred, at that word. Words used in contrast with oneanother are given opposing effect by contrasting emphasis: "Not that Iloved _Cęsar_ less, but that I loved _Rome more_. " "My _words fly up_;my _thoughts remain below_. " When words are used with a double meaning, as in the case of a pun, or with a peculiar implication, or arerepeated for some peculiar effect of mere repetition, --when we have, inany form, what is called a play upon words, --a peculiar pointedness isgiven, wherein the circumflex inflection plays a large part. "Now is it_Rome_ indeed and _room_ enough, when there is in it but one only man. ""I had rather _bear with_ you than _bear_ you; yet if I did bear you, Ishould bear no _cross_, for I think you have no _money_ in your purse. ""But, sir, the _Coalition_! The _Coalition_! Aye, the _murderedCoalition_!"

Although, as has been said, the usual method of making a point is togive striking force to an idea, very often the same effect, or a bettereffect, is produced by a striking sudden suppression of utterance, byway of decided contrast. When the discourse has been running vigorouslyand inflections have been repeatedly sharp and strong, the sudden stop, and the stilled utterance of a word, are most effective. Only, thesuppressed word must be set apart. There must be the pause before orafter, or both before and after. Robert Ingersoll, when speaking withgreat animation, would often suddenly stop and ask a question in thequietest and most intimate way. This gave point to the question and wasimpressive. 

We have been considering thus far only primary or principal emphasis. Of equal importance is the question of secondary emphasis. Thedifference in vocal treatment comes in regarding the principal emphasisas absolute or final, as making the word absolved from, cut off from, the rest of the sentence following, and having a final stop orconclusive effect, while the secondary may be regarded as onlyrelatively emphatic, as being related in a subordinate way to theprincipal, and as maintaining a connection with the rest of thesentence, or as hanging upon the words which follow, or as being a stepleading up to the main idea. The vocal indication of this connectiveprinciple is the circumflex inflection. The tone will be raised, as inthe principal emphasis, but instead of being allowed to fall straightto a finality, it is turned upward at the finish, to hook on, as itwere, to the following. The weight of voice will be less marked, theinflection less long, and the pause usually less decided, than in thecase of the primary emphasis. "Recall _romance_, recite the namesof heroes of legend and _song_, but there is none that is hispeer. " At the words romance and song there is a secondary emphasis; thevoice is not dropped, it is kept suspended with the pause. 

A common failing among students is an inability to avoid a frequentabsolute emphatic inflection when it is not in place. Many are unablesteadily to sustain a sentence till the real point is reached. Theyfail to keep the voice suspended when they make a pause. It is veryimportant that a student should have a sure method of determining whatthe principal emphasis is. He should, as has already been said, follow, in rendering the thought of another, the method of the spontaneousexpression of his own ideas. He should take into his mind the principalidea or ideas, before he speaks the words leading thereto. He shouldthen, at every pause, keep the thought suspended, incomplete, till hereaches that principal idea; he should then make the absolute stop, with the effect of finality, afterwards running off in a properlyrelated way, such words as serve to complete the form of expression. Take the following sentence: "I never take up a paper full of Congresssquabbles, reported as if sunrise depended upon them, without thinkingof that idle English nobleman at Florence, who when his brother, justarrived from London, happened to mention the House of Commons, languidly asked, Ah! is that thing still going?" It is rather curiousthat very rarely will a student keep the thought of such a sentencesuspended and connected until he arrives at the real point at the end. He will first say that he never takes up a paper, though of course hereally does take up a paper. Then he says he never takes up this kindof paper; and this he does not mean. So he goes on misleading hisaudience, instead of helping them properly to anticipate the form ofstatement and so be prepared for the point at the right moment. Heshould not, as a general rule, let his voice take an absolute drop atthe places of secondary emphasis. 

In reference to the emphatic point in a larger division of the speech, and to the main or climactic points of the whole speech, the principlesfor emphasis in the sentence are applied in a larger way. And the wayto make the point is, first of all, to think hard on what that pointis, what is the end or purpose to be attained. If this does not bringthe result--and very often it does not--then the mechanical means ofproducing emphasis should be studied and consciously applied--theincrease, or perhaps the diminution, of force, the lengthening orshortening of tones on the words; a change in the general level ofpitch; the use of the emphatic pause; and a lengthening of the emphaticinflection. A more impressive general effect must, in some way, begiven to the parts of greater importance. 

INDICATING VALUES AND RELATIONS

Perhaps the most commonly criticized fault among beginners in speakingis that of monotony. Monotony that arises from lack of inflection ofvoice or from lack of pointed-ness or emphasis in a sentence, willpresumably be corrected in the earlier exercises. The monotony that iscaused by giving to all sentences an equal value, saying all sentences, or a whole speech, in about the same force, rate, and general pitch, isone that may be considered from another point of view. One fault in thedelivery of sentences--perhaps the most frequent one--is that ofrunning them all off in about the same modulation. By modulation wemean the wavelike rise and fall of the voice that always occurs in somedegree in speech, --sometimes called melody--and the change of key, orgeneral pitch, in passing from one sentence, or part of a speech, toanother. Frequently, novices in speaking and in reading, will swing thevoice upward in the first part of every sentence, give it perhapsanother rise or two as the sentence proceeds, and swing it down, alwaysin precisely the same way, at the end. The effect of this regularrising at the beginning, and this giving of a similar concludingcadence at the end, is to make it appear that each sentence standsquite independent of the others, that each is a detached statement; andwhen, besides, each sentence is given with about the same force andrate of speed, they all seem to be of about equal importance, allprincipal or none principal, but as much alike as Rosalind's halfpence. Sentences that have a close sequence as to thought should be sorendered that one seems to flow out from the other, without the regularmarked rise at the beginning or the concluding cadence at the end. Sentences, and parts of sentences, which are of less importance thanothers with which they are associated, should be made less prominent indelivery. Often students are helped by the suggestion that a sentence, or a part of a sentence, or a group of sentences, it may be, be droppedinto an undertone, or said as an aside, or rapidly passed over, or insome way put in the background--said, so to speak, parenthetically. Other portions of the speech, or the sentence, the important ones, should, on the same principle, be made to stand out with marked effect. 

Notice, in the following quotation, how the first and the last partsarc held together by the pitch or key and the modulation of the voice, and the middle part, the group of examples, is held together in adifferent key by being set in the background, as being illustrative orprobative. "Why, all these Irish bulls are Greek, --every one of them. Take the Irishman carrying around a brick as a specimen of the house hehad to sell; take the Irishman who shut his eyes, and looked into theglass to see how he would look when he was dead; take the Irishman thatbought a crow, alleging that crows were reported to live two hundredyears, and he meant to set out and try it. Well, those are all Greek. Ascore or more of them, of the parallel character, come from Athens. "

The speaker should cultivate a quick sensitiveness as to close unityand slight diversity, as to what is principal and what is subordinate, as to what is in the direct, main line of thought, and what is by theway, casual, or merely a connecting link. This sense of proportion, ofclose or remote relation, of directness and indirectness, the feelingfor perspective, so-called, can be acquired only by continued practice, for sharpening the faculty of apprehension and appreciation. It isusually the last attainment in the student's work, but the neglect ofit may result in a confirmed habit of monotony. The term transition iscommonly used to denote a passing from one to another of the maindivisions of the discourse. The making of this transition, though oftenneglected, is not difficult. The finishing of one part and the makingof a new beginning on the next, usually with some change of standingposition, as well as of voice, has an obvious method. The slightertransition, or variation, within a main division, and the avoidance ofthe slight transition where none should be made, require the keener, quicker insight. 

Sentences will have many other kinds of variation in delivery accordingto the nature and value of the thought. Some will flow on with highsuccessive waves; some will be run almost straight on as in a monotone. Some will be on a higher average tone, or in a higher key; others willbe lower. Some will have lengthened vowel sound, and will be morecontinuous or sustained, so that groups of successive words seem to runon one unbroken tone; others will be abrupt and irregular. Some will berapid, some slow; some light, others weighty; some affected by longpauses, others by no pause, and some will be done in a dry, matter-of-fact, or precise, or commonplace, or familiar manner, others will betouched with feeling, colored by imagination, glowing with persuasivewarmth, elevated, dignified, or profound. A repetition of theselections to be learned, with full expression by voice and action, repetition again, and again, and again, until the sentiment of thembecomes a living reality to the speaker, is the only way to acquire theability to indicate to others the true proportions, the relativevalues, and the distinctive character, of what is to be said. 

EXPRESSING THE FEELING

We are in the habit of distinguishing between what proceeds from merethinking, what is, as we say, purely intellectual, and what arises moreespecially from feeling, what we call emotional. We mean, of course, that one or the other element predominates; and the distinction is aconvenient one. The subject, the occasion, to a great extent the man, determine whether a speech is in the main dispassionate or impassioned, whether it is plain or ornate in statement, whether it is urgent oraggressive, or calm and rather impassive. It would be beyond ourpurpose to consider many of the variations and complexities of feelingthat enter into vocal expression. We call attention to only a few ofthe simpler and more common vocal manifestations of feeling, counselling the student who is to deliver a selected speech, to adapthis speaking to the style of that speech. In so doing he will get avaried training, and at length will find his own most effective style. 

The speech which is matter-of-fact and commonplace only, hascharacteristically much short, sharp inflection of voice, with therapidly varying intervals of pitch that we notice in one's everydaytalking. As the utterance takes on force, it is likely to go in a moredirect line of average pitch, with stronger inflection on speciallyemphatic words. As it rises to sentiment, the inflections are lessmarked, and in the case of a strain of high, nobler feeling, the voicemoves on with some approach to the monotone. According as feeling isstronger and firmer, as in the expression of courage, determination, firm resolve, resistance, intense devotion, the voice is keptsustained, with pauses rather abrupt and decisive; if the feeling, though of high sentiment, is tranquil, without aggressiveness, thevoice has more of the wavelike rise and fall, and at the pausing placesthe tone is gradually diminished, rather than abruptly broken off. Inthe case of quickly impulsive, passionate feeling, the speech is likelyto be much varied in pitch, broken by frequent abrupt stops, anddecisive inflections. In the case of the expression of tenderness orpathos, there is a lingering tone, with the quality and inflection ofplaintiveness, qualified, in public speech, by such dignity andstrength as is fitting. In all cases the quality of voice is of coursethe main thing, and this, not being technical or mechanical, mustdepend on the speaker's entering into the spirit of the piece andgiving color, warmth, and depth to his tones. The spirit of gladness ortriumph has usually the higher, brighter, ringing tone; that ofgravity, solemnity, awe, the lower, darker, and less varied tone. 

In the case of the expression of irony, sarcasm, scorn, contempt, andkindred feelings, the circumflex inflection is the principal feature. This is the curious quirk or double turn in the voice, that is heardwhen one says, for example, "You're a _fine_ fellow, " meaning, "You are anything but a fine fellow. " In the earlier part of Webster'sreply to Hayne are some of the finest examples of irony, grim orcaustic humor, sarcasm, and lofty contempt. They need significant turnsand plays of voice, but are often spoiled by being treated as highdeclamation. 

In the expression of the various kinds and degrees of feeling there maybe a fully expressed force or a suppressed or restrained force. Oftenthe latter is the more natural and effective. This is intense, but notloud, though at times it may break through its restraint. It is mostfitting when the hearers are near at hand, as in the case of a jury orjudge in court, when the din of loudness would offend. 

The climax is a gradually increasing expression of feeling. It may beby a gradual raising of the voice in pitch; it may be by any sort ofincreasing effectiveness or moving power. It is rather difficult tomanage, and may lead to some strained effort. The speaker should keep asteady, controlled movement, without too much haste, but rather aretarded and broadened utterance as the emphatic point is approached;and always the speaker should keep well within his powers, maintainingalways some vocal reserve. 

The practice of emotional expression gives warmth, mellowness, sympathyand expansiveness to the voice, and must have considerable culturalvalue. 

SHOWING THE PICTURE

A difficult attainment in speaking is that of vividness. The studentmay see the picture in his own mind's eye, but his mode of expressiondoes not reveal the fact to others. Imagination in writing he may have, with no suggestion of it in the voice. Too often it is erroneouslytaken for granted that the human voice, because it is human, will atany call, respond to all promptings of the mind. It will no more do so, of course, than the hand or the eye. It must be trained. Often it is acase not merely of vocal response, but of mental awakening as well, andin that case the student must, if he can, learn to see visions anddream dreams. 

A way to begin the suiting of speech to imaginative ideas is toimitate; to make the voice sound like the thing to be suggested. Somethings are fast, some slow, some heavy, some light, some dark anddismal, some bright and joyous; some things are noisy, some still; somerattle, others roar; the sea is hoarse; the waves wash; the winds blow;the ocean is level, or it dashes high and breaks; happy things sing, and sad things mourn. All life and nature speak just as we speak. Howeasy it ought to be for us to speak just as nature speaks. And when ourabstract notions are put in concrete expression, or presented as apicture, how easy it would seem, by these simple variations of voice, to speak the language of that picture, telling the length, breadth, action, color, values, spirit of it. That it is a task makes it worthwhile. It affords infinite variety, and endless delight. 

One necessary element in so-called word-painting is that of time. Whena speaker expresses himself in pictures for the imagination he mustgive his hearers time to see these pictures, and to sufficiently seeand appreciate the parts, or lines of them, and the significance ofthem. It is a common fault to hasten over the language of imaginationas over the commonplace words. The speaker or reader had better be sureto see the image himself before, and indeed after, he speaks it. Otherswill then be with him. Although among most young speakers the tone ofimagination is lacking, yet often young persons who become proficientvocally are fain greatly to overdo it, till the sound that is suited tothe sense becomes sound for its own sake, and thereby obscures thesense. Regard for proportion and fitness, in relation to the centralidea or purpose, should control the feeling for color in the detail. 

EXPRESSION BY ACTION

It should always be borne in mind that gesture means the bearing or theaction of the whole man. It does not mean simply movement of the armand hand. The practice of gesture should be governed by thisunderstanding of the term. A thought, an emotion, something that movesthe man from within, will cause a change, it may be slight, or it maybe very marked, in eye, face, body. This is gesture. This change ormovement may, from the strength of the feeling that prompts it, extendto the arm and hand. But this latter movement, in arm and hand, is onlythe fuller manifestation of one's thought or feeling--the completion ofthe gesture, not the gesture itself. Arm movement, when not preceded orsupplemented by body movement, or body pose, is obtrusive action; itbrings a member of the body into noticeable prominence, attracting theauditor's eye and taking his mind from the speaker's thought. Betterhave no gesture than gesture of this kind. The student, then, shouldfirst learn to appreciate the force of ideas, to see and feel the fullsignificance of what he would say, and indicate by some generalmovement of body and expression of face, the changing moods of mind. Then the arm and hand may come--in not too conspicuous a way--to theaid of the body. When Wendell Phillips pointed to the portraits inFaneuil Hall and exclaimed: "I thought those pictured lips would havebroken into voice to rebuke the recreant American, --the slanderer ofthe dead, " it was not, we may be sure, the uplifted arm alone, but thepose of the man, the something about his whole being, which bespoke thespirit within him, and which was really the gesture. In less positiveor striking degrees of action, the body movement will, of course, bevery slight, at times almost imperceptible, but the principle alwaysholds, and should be from the first taught. In gesture, the bodily manacts as a unit. 

The amount of gesture is, of course, determined by the temperament ofthe speaker, the nature of the speech, the character of the audience, and the occasion of the address. One speaker will, under certainconditions, gesticulate nearly all the time; another will, under thesame conditions, seem seldom to move in any way. The two may be equallyeffective. A speech that is charged with lively emotion will usually beaccompanied by action; a speech expressive of the profound feeling thatsubdues to gravity, or resignation, would be comparatively withoutaction. The funeral oration by Mark Antony is full of action because itis really intended to excite the will of his audience; in a funeraladdress simply expressive of sorrow and appreciation, gesture would, asa rule, be out of place. A sharply contested debate may need actionthat punctuates and enforces; the pleasantry of after-dinner talk mayneed only the voice. So, one audience, not quick in grasping ideas, mayneed, both in language and action, much clear, sharp indication of thepoint by illustration, much stirring up by physical attack, so tospeak, while another audience would be displeased by this unnecessaryeffort to be clear and expressive. Yet again, given a certain speakerand a certain subject and a certain audience, it is obvious that theoccasion will determine largely how the speaker will bear himself. Theatmosphere of a college commencement will be different from that of abarbecue, and the speaker would, within the limits set by his ownpersonality and his own dignity, adapt himself to the one or the other. The general law of appropriateness and good taste must determine theamount of gesture. 

For the purposes of this work there is probably very little, if any, value in a strict classification of gestures. It may, at times, beconvenient to speak of one gesture as merely for emphasis, of anotheras indicating location, of another as giving illustration, of one asmore subjective, expressing a thought that reflects back upon thespeaker, or is said more in the way of self-communion, of another asobjective, concerned only with outer objects or with ideas more apartfrom the person or the inward feeling of the speaker. But it can easilybe shown that one idea, or one dominant feeling, may be expressed bymany kinds of action, in fact, so far at least as prescribed movementsare concerned, in directly opposite kinds, and gesture is so largely amatter of the individual, and is governed so much by mixed motive andvarying circumstance, that the general public speaker will profitlittle by searching for its philosophic basis, and trying to practiceaccording to any elaborated system. The observing of life, with theexercise of instinct, taste, sense, above all of honest purpose--these, with of course the help of competent criticism, will serve assufficient practical guides in the cultivation of expressive action. 

Some observations, or perhaps general principles, may be offered ashelpful. When a speaker is concerned with driving ideas straight hometo his audience, as in putting bare fact in a debate, his action willbe more direct; it will move in straighter lines and be turned, likehis thought, more directly upon his audience. As his statement is moreexactly to a point, so his gesture becomes more pointed and definite. When the speaker is not talking to or at his audience, to move them tohis will, but is rather voicing the ideas and feelings alreadypossessed by them, and is in a non-aggressive mood, he is likely to useless of the direct and emphasis-giving gesture, and to employprincipally the gesture that is merely illustrative of his ideas, morereposeful, less direct, less tense. 

To consider more in detail the principle that the man, and not the arm, is the gesture, a man should look what he is to speak. The eye shouldalways have a relation to gesture. The look may be in the direction ofthe arm movement or in another direction. No practical rule can begiven. It can only be said that the eye must play its part. Observingactions in real life, we see that when one person points out an objectto another, he looks now at the object, now at the person, as if toguide that person's look. When he hears a sound he may glance in thedirection of it, but then look away to listen. Often a suspendedaction, with a fixed look of the face, will serve to arrest theattention of auditors and fix it upon an idea. One should cultivatefirst the look, then the supporting or completing action. 

As to the movement of the arm and the form of the hand, one should becareful not to become stiff and precise by following exact rules. Ingeneral, it may be said that the beginning of the arm movement, beingfrom the body, is in the upper arm; the finish of it is at the tips ofthe fingers, with the forefinger leading, or bringing the gesture to apoint. There is generally a slightly flexible, rythmical movement ofthe arm and hand. This should not, as a rule, be very marked, and inspecially energetic action is hardly observable. In this arm actionthere is an early preparatory movement, which indicates or suggests, what is coming. Often a moment of suspense in the preparation enhancesthe effect of the finish, or stroke, of the gesture, which correspondsusually to the vocal emphasis. At the final pointing of the action, thehand is, for a moment or for moments, fixed, as the mind and the manare fixed, for the purpose of holding the attention of the auditor;then follows the recovery, so-called, from the gesture, or it may be, the passing to another gesture. And all the while, let it again besaid, slight changes of bodily pose with proper adjustments of thefeet, will make the harmonious, unified action. It should be rememberedthat, as in viewing a house or a picture we should be impressed by themain body and the general effect, rather than by any one feature, so onthe same principle, no striking feature of a man's action shouldattract attention to itself. On the same principle, no part of the handshould be made conspicuous--the thumb or forefinger should not be toomuch stuck out, nor the other fingers, except in pointing, be very muchcurved in. Generally, except in precise pointing, there is a graduatedcurving, not too nice, from the bent little finger to the straighterforefinger. As the gesture is concerned with thought more delicate, theaction of the hand is lighter and tends more to the tips of thefingers; as it is more rugged and strong, the hand is held heavier. Itis bad to carry the arm very far back, causing a strained look; tostretch the arms too straight out, or to confine the elbow to the side. The elbow is kept somewhat away even in the smallest gesture. Whileaction should have nerve, it should not become nervous, that is, over-tense and rigid. It should be free and controlled, with good poise inthe whole man. 

Before leaving this subject, in its physical aspect, let us considersomewhat the matter of standing and moving on the platform. Amongimperfections as regards position, that kind of imperfection whichtakes the form of perfectly fixed feet, strictly upright figure, handsat the side, head erect, and eyes straight-of all bad kinds, this kindis the worst. This is often referred to as school declamation, or thespeaking of a piece. We have discarded many old ideas of restriction ineducation. Let us discard the strait-jacket in platform speaking. Nobody else ever speaks as students are often compelled to speak. Letthem speak like boys--not like men even--much less like machines. Thereis of course a good and a bad way of standing and moving, but much isdue to youth, to individuality, and to earnest intention, and a studentshould have free play in a large degree. 

In walking, the step should neither be too fast nor too slow, too longnor too short, too much on the heel or too much on the toe. A simple, straightforward way of getting there is all that is wanted. The armsare left to swing easily, but not too much; nor should one arm swingmore than the other. The head, it will be noted, may occasionally riseand fall as one goes up or down steps or walks the platform. Beforebeginning to speak, one should not obviously take a position andprepare. He should easily stop at his place, and, looking at hisauditors, begin simply to say something to them. As to the feet, theywill, of course, be variously placed or adjusted according to the poseof the body in the varying moods of the speech. In general, the bodywill rest more on one foot than on the other. In a position of ease, asusually at the beginning of a speech, one foot will bear most of theweight. In this case, this foot will normally be pointed nearly to thefront; the other foot will be only very slightly in advance of this andwill be turned more outward. The feet will not be close together; nornoticeably far apart. They need not--they had better not--as it issometimes pictured in books, be so set that a line passing lengthwisethrough the freer foot will pass through the heel of the other foot. Asa man becomes earnest in speaking, his posture will vary, and often hewill stand almost equally on his two feet. In changing one's position, it is best to acquire the habit of moving the freer foot, the onelighter on the floor, first, thus avoiding a swaying, or toppling lookof the body. 

In connection with the subject of standing, naturally comes thequestion of the arms in the condition of inaction. It is possibly wellto train one's self, when learning to speak, to let the arms hangrelaxed at the side, but speakers do not often so hold the arms. Usually there is a desk near, and the speaker when at rest drops onehand upon this, or he lets one arm rest at the waist, or he brings thetwo hands together. Any of these things may be done, if done simply, easily, without nervous tightening, or too frequent shifting. Onething, for practical reasons, should not be allowed, the too commonhabit of clasping the hands behind the back. It will become a fixedmannerism, and a bad one, for the hands are thus concealed, theshoulders and head may droop forward, and the hands may be so tightenedtogether behind the back as to cause nervous tension in the body and inthe voice. The hands should be in place ready for expressive action. The back is not such a place. 

Nearly every movement that a man makes in speaking should have somefitting relation to what he is at the moment saying. These movementswill then be varied. When certain repeated actions, without this properrelation, are acquired, they are called mannerisms. They have nomeaning, and are obtrusive and annoying. Repeated jerking or bobbing ofthe head, for a supposed emphasis; regularly turning the head from sideto side, for addressing all the audience; nervous shaking of the head, as of one greatly in earnest; repeated, meaningless punching orpounding of the air, always in the same way; shifting of one footregularly backward and forward; rising on the toes with each emphaticword, --although single movements similar to these often haveappropriate place, none of these or others should be allowed to becomefixed mannerisms, habitually recurring movements, without a purpose. Weare sometimes told that certain manneristic ways are often a speaker'sstrength. Probably this is at least half true. But eccentricitiesshould not be cultivated or indulged. They will come. We should have asfew as possible, or they won't count. One thing, however, should herebe said. Positive strength, with positive faults, is much better thanspiritless inoffensiveness. One should not give all his attention tothe avoiding of faults. 

In the application of gesture to the expression of ideas, one ishelped, as has been said, by constantly heeding the general principleof suiting the form of the gesture to the nature of the thought, or ofsuiting the action to the word. Inasmuch as gesture so generally takesthe form of objects or actions, it is undoubtedly easier to begin withthe more concrete in language, or with the discussion of tangibleobjects, and work from these to the more abstract and remotelyimaginary--from the more, to the less, familiar. Let the studentindicate the location, or the height, or the width, or the form of anobject. His action will probably be appropriate. Let him apply similar, probably less definite, action to certain abstract ideas. Let him passto ideas more remote and vague, by action largely suggestive, notdefinite or literal. 

The most important, because the most fundamental, principle to be bornein mind is that gesture should be made to enforce, not the superficial, or incidental, ideas appearing in a statement, but the ideas which liebehind the form of expression and are the real basis, or inhere in thefundamental purpose, of the speaker's discourse. 

At the close of Senator Thurston's speech on intervention in behalf ofCuba, there is picturesque language for impressing the contention thatforce is justified in a worthy cause. The speaker cites graphicallyexamples of force at Bunker Hill, Valley Forge, Shiloh, Chattanooga, and Lookout Heights. The student is here very likely to be led astrayby the fine opportunity to make gesture. He may vividly see and picturethe snows of Valley Forge, marked with bloodstained feet, and the otherscenes suggested, but forget about the central idea, the purpose behindall the vivid forms of expression. Graphic, detailed gestures may havethe effect of making the pictures in themselves the main object. Theaction here should be informal, unstudied, and merely remotelysuggestive. The speaker should keep to his one central idea, and keepwith his audience. Otherwise the speech will be insincere andpurposeless, perhaps absurd. The fundamental, not the superficial, should determine the action. Young speakers almost invariably pick outwords or phrases, suggesting the possibility of a gesture, and giveexact illustration to them, as if the excellence of gesture were initself an object, when really the thing primarily to be enforced is notthese incidental features in the form of expression, but the underlyingidea of the whole passage. It is as if the steeple were made out ofproportion to the church, or a hat out of proportion to the man. Thismisconception of what gesture really means is doubtless, in largemeasure, the cause of making platform recitation often false andoffensive. The remedy does not lie in omitting gesture altogether, assome seem to think, but in making gesture simple and true. 

Finally, let the student remember that he goes to the platform, not tomake a splendid speech and receive praise for a brilliant exhibition ofhis art, but that he goes there because the platform is a convenientplace from which to tell the people something he has to say. Let himthink it nothing remarkable that he should be there; let him so bearhimself, entering with simplicity, honesty, earnestness, and modesty, into his work, that no one will think much about how his work is done. Spirited oratory, with the commanding presence, the sweeping action, and an overmastering force of utterance, may at times be called forth, but these are given to a man out of his subject and by the occasion;they are not to be assumed by him merely because he is before anaudience, or as necessary features of speech-making. Let the studentspeak, first and always, as a self-respecting, thinking man, earnestand strong, but self-controlled and sensible. 

PLATFORM PRACTICE

THE FORMAL ADDRESS

The selections in the several sections for platform practice are to beused for applying, in appropriate combination, the principlesheretofore worked out, one by one. The first group provides practice inthe more formal style. The occasion of the formal address requires, inlarge degree, restraint and dignity. The thought is elevated; the moodserious, in some cases subdued, the form of expression exact and firm. The delivery should correspond. The tone should be, in some degree, ennobled; the movement deliberate, and comparatively even and measured;the modulation not marked by striking variations in pitch; the pausesrather regular, and the gesture always sparing, perhaps wholly omitted. The voice should be generally pure and fine; the enunciation should befinished and true. Whatever action there may be should be restrained, well poised, deliberate, with some degree of grace. In general itshould be felt that carelessness or looseness or aggressiveness orundue demonstrativeness would be out of harmony with the spirit of theoccasion. Good taste must be exercised at every step, and the audienceshould be addressed, from the outset, as in sympathy with the speakerand ready at once to approve. The spirit and manner of contention isout of place. 

In this style of discourse the liability to failure lies in thedirection of dullness, monotony, lack of vitality and warmth. This isbecause the feeling is deep and still; is an undercurrent, strong butunseen. This restrained, repressed feeling is the most difficultfittingly to express. In this kind of speech some marring of just theright effect is difficult to avoid. Simplicity, absolute genuineness, are the essential qualities. The ideas must be conveyed with power andsignificance, in due degree; but nothing too much is particularly thewatchword regarding the outward features of the work. 

THE PUBLIC LECTURE

In the public lecture the element of entertainment enters prominently. The audience, at first in a passive state, must be awakened, and takenon with the speaker. Probably it must be instructed, perhaps amused. The speaker must make his own occasion. He has no help from thecircumstance of predisposition among his auditors. He must compel, orhe must win; he must charm or thrill; or he must do each in turn. Animation, force, beauty, dramatic contrast, vividness, variety, arethe qualities that will more or less serve, according to the style ofthe composition. Aptness in the story or anecdote, facility in graphicillustration, readiness in expressing emotion, happiness in theimitative faculty, for touching off the eccentric in character orincident, are talents that come into play, and in the exercise ofthese, gesture of course has an important place. 

The lecture platform is perhaps the only field, with possibly theexception of what is properly the after-dinner speech, wherein publicspeaking may be viewed as strictly an art, something to be taken forits own sake, wherein excellence in the doing is principally the end inview. This means, generally, that individual talent, and training inall artistic requirements, count for more than the subject or any"accidents of office, " in holding the auditor's interest. An animatedand versatile style can be cultivated by striving to make effective thepublic lecture. 

THE INFORMAL DISCUSSION

Informal discussion is the name chosen for the lecture or talk in theclub or the classroom. It implies a rather small audience and familiarrelations between audience and speaker. While the subject may beweighty, and the language may be necessarily of the literary orscientific sort, the style of speaking should be colloquial. It oughtto bring the hearer pretty near to the speaker. If the subject andlanguage are light, the speaking will be sprightly and comparativelyswift. 

Since the occasion for this kind of speaking is frequent, and theopportunity for it is likely to fall to almost any educated man, proficiency in it might well be made an object in the course of one'seducational training. The end aimed at is the ability to talk well. This accomplishment is not so easy as it may seem. It marks, indeed, the stage of maturity in speech-making. Since authoritative opinionfrom the speaker and interest in the subject on the part of theaudience are prime elements in this form of discussion, littlecultivation of form is usually given to this kind of speaking. Theresult is much complaining from auditors about inaudibleness, dullness, monotony, annoying mannerisms, or a too formal, academic tone thatkeeps the audience remote, a lack of what is called the human quality. A good talker from the desk not only has the reward of appreciation andgratitude, but is able to accomplish results in full proportion to allthat he puts into the improvement of his vocal work. An agreeable tone, easy formation of words, clear, well-balanced emphasis, good phrasing, or grouping of words in the sentence, some vigor without continualpounding, easy, unstudied bodily movement without manneristicrepetition of certain motions, in short, good form without anyobtrusive appearance of form, --these are the qualities desired. 

ARGUMENTATIVE SPEECH

In the case of the forensic, we come nearer to the practical in publicspeaking. The speaker aims, as a rule, to effect a definite purpose, and he concentrates his powers upon this immediate object. Since thespeech is for the most part an appeal to the reason, and thereforedeals largely with fact and the logical relations of ideas, precisionand clearness of statement are the chief qualities to be cultivated. But since the aim is to overcome opposition, and produce conviction, and so to impress and stir as to affect the will to a desired action, the element of force, and the moving quality of persuasion enters in asa reėnforcement of the speaker's logic. Generally the speech is verydirect, and often it is intense. It has in greater degree than anyother form the feature of aggressiveness. Some form of attack isadopted, for the purpose of overthrowing the opposing force. Thatattack is followed up in a direct line of argument, and is carried outto a finish. In delivery the continuous line of pursuit thus followedoften naturally leads to a kind of effective monotone style, whereinthe speaker keeps an even force, or strikes blow after blow, or sendsshot after shot. The characteristic feature of the forensic style isthe climax--climax in brief successions of words, climax in thesentence, climax in giving sections of the speech, climax in the speechas a whole. 

Special notice should be taken of the fact that, in earnest argument, sentences have, characteristically, a different run from that inordinary expository speaking. Whereas in the expository style thesentence flows, as a rule, easily forth, with the voice rising andfalling, in an undulatory sort of way, and dropping restfully to afinish, in the heated forensic style, the sentence is given the effectof being sent straight forth, as if to a mark, with the last word madethe telling one, and so kept well up in force and pitch. Theaccumulating force has the effect of sending the last word home, or ofmaking it the one to clinch the statement. 

The dangers to be guarded against in debate are wearying monotony, over-hammering--too frequent, too hard, too uniform an emphasis--toomuch, or too continued heat, too much speed, especially in speakingagainst time, a loss of poise in the bearing, a halting or jumbling inspeech, nervous tenseness in action, an overcontentious or bumptiousspirit. Bodily control, restraint, good temper, balance, are the savingqualities. A debater must remember that he need not be always in aheat. Urbanity and graciousness have their place, and the reliefafforded by humor is often welcome and effective. 

In no form of speaking, except that of dramatic recitation, is theliability to impairment of voice so great as it is in debating. One ofthe several excellent features of debating is that of the self-forgetfulness that comes with an earnest struggle to win. But perhaps aman cannot safely forget himself until he has learned to know himself. The intensity of debating often leads, in the case of a speaker vocallyuntrained, to a tightening of the throat in striving for force, to astiffening of the tongue and lips for making incisive articulation, toa rigidness of the jaw from shutting down on words to give decisiveemphasis. Soon the voice has the juice squeezed out of it. The tonebecomes harsh and choked; then ragged and weak. The only remedy is togo straight back and begin all over, just as a golfer usually does whenhe has gone on without instruction. The necessity of going back isoften not realized till later in life; then the process is much harder, and perhaps can never be entirely effective. The teacher in the courseof his experience meets many, many such cases. The time to learn theright way is at the beginning. 

Among the selections here offered for forensic practice, examples indebate serve for the cultivation of the aggressiveness that comes fromimmediate opposition; examples in the political speech for acquiringthe abandon and enthusiasm of the so-called popular style; in the legalplea for practice in suppressed force. In the case of the last ofthese, it is well that the audience be near to the speaker, as is thecase in an address to a judge or jury. The idea is to be forciblewithout being loud and high; to cultivate a subdued tone that shall, atthe same time, be vital and impressive. The importance of a manner ofspeaking that is not only clear and effective, but also agreeable, easyto listen to, is quite obvious when we consider the task of a judge ora jury, who have to sit for hours and try to carry in their minds thesubstance of all that has been said, weighing point against point, balancing one body of facts against another. A student can arrangenearly the same conditions as to space, and can, by exercise ofimagination, enter into the spirit of a legal conflict. 

THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECH

After-dinner speaking is another form that many men may have anopportunity to engage in. It can also be practiced under conditionsresembling those of the actual occasion, that is, members of the classcan be so seated that the speaking may become intimate in tone, andspeeches can be selected that will serve for cultivating thatdistinctive, sociable quality of voice that, in itself, goes far incontributing to the comfort and delight of the after-dinner audience. The real after-dinner speech deals much in pleasantry. The tone ofvoice is characteristically unctuous. Old Fezziwig is described byDickens as calling out "in a comfortable, rich, fat, jovial, oilyvoice. " Something like this is perhaps the ideal after-dinner voice, although there is a dry humor as well as an unctuous, and each speakerwill, after all, have his own way of making his hearers comfortable, happy, and attentive. Ease and deliberation are first requisites. Nervous intensity may not so much mar the effect of earnest debate. Thesocial chat is spoiled by it. Humor, as a rule, requires absoluterestfulness. Especially should a beginner guard himself against hastein making the point at the finish of a story. It does no harm to keepthe hearer waiting a bit, in expectation. The effect may be thusenhanced, while the effect will be entirely lost if the point, and thetrue touch, are spoiled by uncontrolled haste. The way to gain thisease and control is not by stiffening up to master one's self, but byrelaxing, letting go of one's self. Practice in the speech ofpleasantry may have great value in giving a man repose, in giving himthat saving grace, an appreciation of the humorous, in affording him ameans of relief or enlivenment to the serious speech. 

THE OCCASIONAL POEM

The occasional poem is so frequently brought forth in connection withspeech-making that some points regarding metrical reading may be quitein place in a speaker's training. Practice in verse reading is of usealso because of the frequency of quoted lines from the poets inconnection with the prose speech. 

To read a poem well one must become in spirit a poet. He must not onlythink, he must feel. He must exercise imagination. He must, we will sayit again, see visions and dream dreams. What was said about vividnessin the discussion of expressional effects applies generally to thereading of poetry. One will read much better if he has tried to write--in verse as well as in prose. He will then know how to put himself inthe place of the poet, and will not be so likely to mar the poet'sverses by "reading them ill-favoredly. " He will know the value of wordsthat have been so far sought, and may not slur over them; he may feelthe sound of a line formed to suggest a sound in nature. He will knowthat a meter has been carefully worked out, and that, in the reading, that meter is of the spirit of the poem; it is not to be disregarded. Likewise he will appreciate the place of rhyme, and may not try so tocover it up as entirely to lose its effect. In humorous verse, especially, rhyme plays an effective part; and in all verse, alliteration, variations in melody, the lighter and the heavier touch, acceleration and retard in movement, the caesura, or pause in the line, and the happy effect of the occasional cadence, are features which onecan come to appreciate and respect only with reading one's favoritepoems many times, with spirit warm, with faculties alert. 

THE MAKING OF THE SPEECH

Although the use of selected speeches is best for effective drill indelivery, yet a student's training for public speaking is of course notcomplete until he has had experience in applying his acquired skill tothe presenting of his own thought. Thinking and speaking should be madeone operation. The principles of composition for the public speechbelong to a separate work. A few hints only can be given here, andthese will be concerned with the informal, offhand speech rather thanwith the formal address. 

The usual directions regarding the choosing of the subject, thecollecting of material, and the arranging of it in the most effectiveorder, with exceptions and variations, hold in all forms of the speech. The subject chosen should be one of special interest to the speaker, one on which it is known he can speak with some degree of authority, because of his personal study of it, or because of his having hadexceptional personal relations with it. It must also be, because of thenature of it, or because of some special treatment, of particularinterest to the audience to be addressed. Either new, out-of-the-waysubjects, or new, fresh phases of old subjects are usually interesting. The subject must be limited in its comprehensiveness to suit the timeallowed for speaking, and the title of the speech should be so phrasedas to indicate exactly what the subject, or the part of a subject, isto be. To this carefully limited and defined subject, the speakershould rigidly adhere. 

How to find a subject is generally a topic on which students areadvised. Though it is often a necessity to hunt for a suitable specialtopic on which to speak, the student should know that when he getsoutside the classroom, he will find that he will not be invited tospeak because he is ready at finding subjects and clever in speech. Itis not strange, in view of the many advertisements that reach youngmen, offering methods of home training, or promising sure success fromthis or that special method of schooling, that they may come to believethat any one has only to learn to stand up boldly on a platform, andwith voice and gesture exercise some mysterious sort of magical controlover an audience, and his success as an orator is secure. They willfind that their time and money have been wasted, so far as publicspeaking is concerned, unless, having at the start some native ability, they have secured, in addition, a kind of training that is fundamental. A man is wanted as a speaker primarily because he stands for something;because he has done some noteworthy work. His subjects for discussionarise out of his personal interests, and, to a large extent, his methodof treatment will be determined by his relation to these subjects. Ayoung man may well be advised, then, not simply how to choose and howto present a subject, but first to secure a good mental training, andthen to find for himself an all-absorbing work to do. The wisdom thatcomes from a concentrated intellectual activity, and an interest inmen's affairs, both directed to some unselfish end, is the essentialqualification of the speaker. 

In considering the arrangement of a speech, the student will do well toask himself first, not what is to be the beginning of it, but what isto be the end of it; what is the purpose of it; and what shall be thecentral idea; what impression, or what principal thought or thoughts, shall be left with the audience. When this is determined, then a way ofworking out this central idea or of working up to it--in a shortspeech, by a few points only--must be carefully and thoroughly planned. Extemporaneous speaking is putting spontaneously into words what haspreviously been well thought out and well arranged. Without this stateof preparation, the way of wisdom is silence. 

The language of a speech is largely determined by the man's habit ofmind, the nature of his subject, and the character of his audience. Students often err in one of two directions, either by being toobookish in language or by allowing the other extreme of looseness, weakcolloquialism in words, and formless monotony of sentence, with theendless repetition of the connective "and. " Language should be fresh, vital, varied. It should have some dignity. Much reading, writing, andspeaking are necessary to secure an adequate vocabulary, and areadiness in putting in firm form a variety of sentences. Concretenessof expression and occasional illustration are more needed in speechthan in writing, and the brief anecdote or story is welcome and usefulif there is room for it, and if it comes unbidden, by virtue of itsfitness and spontaneity, and is not drawn in by the ears for half-hearted service. The inevitable story at the opening of an after-dinnerspeech might often be spared. Although a good story is in itselfenjoyable, yet when a speaker feels that he must make one fit into thespeech, whether or no, by applying it to himself or his subject or theoccasion, the effect is often very unhappy. A man is best guided inthese things simply by being true, by being sincere rather than artful. On this same principle, a student may need some advice with regard tohis spirit and manner in giving expression to his own ideas before anaudience. He need not, as students often seem to think they must, appear to have full knowledge or final judgment on the largest ofsubjects. It is more fitting that he should speak as a student, aninquirer, not as an authority. If his statements are guarded andqualified; if he speaks as one only inclined to an opinion whenfinality of judgment is obviously beyond his reach; if he directlyrefers, and defers, to opinions that must be better than his can be, his speech will have much more weight, and he will grow in strength ofcharacter by always being true to himself. It is a question whetherstudents are not too often inspired to be bold and absolute, for thesake of apparent strength in speaking, rather than modest and judiciousand sensible, for the sake of being strong as men. 

In the form of delivering one's thought to an audience, it is of thefirst importance that one should speak and not declaim. There is, ofcourse, a way of talking on the platform that is merely negativelygood, a way that is fitting enough in general style, but weak. Thereshould be breadth, and strength, and reach. But this does not mean anynecessity of sending forth pointless successive sentences over theheads of an audience. A college president recently said, "Our boysdeclaim a good deal, though they're not so bad as they used to be. Itseems to me, " he added, "that the idea is to say something to youraudience. " That is what a teacher must be continually insisting on, that the student say something to somebody, not chant or declaim intospace. And the student should be continually testing himself on thispoint, whether he is looking into the faces of his hearers andspeaking, though on a larger scale, yet in the usual way ofcommunicating ideas. 

It is not desirable that men should become overready speakers. Methodsof training in extemporaneous discussion that require speaking withoutthought, on anything or nothing that can be at the moment invented, arelikely to be mischievous. Thought suggests expression, and exactthought will find fit form. Sound thinking is the main thing. Practicefor mere fluency tends to the habit of superficial thinking, andproduces the wearisome, endless talker. In this connection emphasis maybe laid upon the point of ending a speech when its purpose isaccomplished, and that as soon as can be. Many speeches are spoiled bythe last third or quarter of them, when a point well made has lost itseffect by being overenforced or obscured by a wordy conclusion. Let thestudent study for rare thought and economy of speech. 

Books on speaking have repeatedly insisted that after all has beensaid, the public speaker's word will be taken for what he is known tobe worth as a man; that his utterances will have effect according asthey are given out with soul-felt earnestness. This has already beentouched upon here, and it is well that it should be often repeated. Itmay be well, however, also to consider quite carefully what part isplayed in men's efforts by the element of skill. Of two equally worthyand equally earnest men, the man of the superior skill, acquired bypersistent training in method, will be the stronger man, the man whowill be of more service to his fellows. More than this, inasmuch aspublic men can seldom be perfectly known or judged as to character, andmay often, for a time at least, deceive, it is quite possible that theunscrupulous man with great skill will, at some moment of crisis, makethe worse appear to be the better cause. Equally skilled men aretherefore wanted to contend for the side of right. The man whoseservice to men depends largely upon his power of speech--in the pulpit, at the bar, or in non-professional capacity--must have, either fromgift or from training, the speaker's full equipment, for matchinghimself against opposing strength. 

REVIEW EXERCISES

For convenience of practice, a few pages of brief exercises, exemplifying the foregoing principles, are given at the end of thebook. By using each day one example in each group, and changing fromtime to time, the student will have sufficient variety to serveindefinitely. This vocal practice may be made a healthful andpleasurable daily exercise. 

PART TWO

TECHNICAL TRAINING

ESTABLISHING THE TONE

O SCOTIA!

From "The Cotter's Saturday Night"

BY ROBERT BURNS

 O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle. 

 O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide, That streamed through Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian and reward!) Oh never, never, Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!

O ROME! MY COUNTRY!

From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"

BY LORD BYRON

 O Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts, their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance?--Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day:--A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 

 The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;-- The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; The very sepulchers lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers:--dost thou flow, Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress!

RING OUT, WILD BELLS!

From "In Memoriam"

BY ALFRED LORD TENNYSON

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light;The year is dying in the night;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow;The year is going, let him go;Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more;Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times;Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite;Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. 

ROLL ON, THOU DEEP!

From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"

BY LORD BYRON

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;Man marks the earth with ruin--his control Stops with the shore: upon the watery plain, The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown. 

The armaments, which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs makeTheir clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike th' Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee: Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, --what are they?Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obeyThe stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou;Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to beBorne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers--they to meWere a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear. 

THOU, TOO, SAIL ON!

From "The Building of the Ship, " by permission of, and by specialArrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishersof this author's works. 

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW

Sail forth into the sea, O ship!Through wind and wave, right onward steer!The moistened eye, the trembling lip, Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversityUpon the bosom of that seaThy comings and thy goings be!For gentleness and love and trustPrevail o'er angry wave and gust;And in the wreck of noble livesSomething immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!Sail on, O Union, strong and great!Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate!We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heatWere shaped the anchors of thy hope!Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock;

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale!In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee, --are all with thee!

O TIBER, FATHER TIBER!

From "Horatius"

BY LORD MACAULAY

"O Tiber, Father Tiber! 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, 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, 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, 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, And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, And spent with changing blows;And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. 

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. 

MARULLUS TO THE ROMAN CITIZENS

From "Julius Cęsar"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

_Flavius_. Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

_Second Citizen_. Indeed, sir, we make holiday, to seeCęsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. 

_Marullus_. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?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 oftHave you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have satThe live-long day, with patient expectationTo see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, 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?And do you now strew flowers in his wayThat comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?Be gone!Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plagueThat needs must light on this ingratitude. 

THE RECESSIONAL

From "Collected Verse, " with the permission of A. P. Watt and Son, London, and Doubleday, Page and Company, New York, publishers

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

God of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far-flung battle-line--Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine--Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget. 

The tumult and the shouting dies-- The captains and the kings depart--Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget. 

Far-called our navies melt away-- On dune and headland sinks the fire, Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget. 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--Such boasting as the Gentiles use Or lesser breeds without the Law--Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget. 

For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard--All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard--For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord. 

THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY

From Webster's Reply to Hayne, in the United States Senate. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, publishers of "The Great Speeches andOrations of Daniel Webster"

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; sheneeds none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. Thereis her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, issecure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill;and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen inthe great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil ofevery State from New England to Georgia; and there they will lieforever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, andwhere its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives in thestrength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord anddisunion shall wound it; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawkat and tear it; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary andnecessary restraint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union bywhich alone its existence is made sure, --it will stand, in the end, bythe side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it willstretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain overthe friends who gather round it; and it will fall at last, if fall itmust, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the veryspot of its origin. 

THE IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS

Delivered in the House of Lords, February 13, 1788

BY EDMUND BURKE

My Lords, I do not mean to go further than just to remind yourLordships of this, --that Mr. Hastings's government was one whole systemof oppression, of robbery of individuals, of spoliation of the public, and of suppression of the whole system of the English government, inorder to vest in the worst of the natives all the power that couldpossibly exist in any government; in order to defeat the ends which allgovernments ought, in common, to have in view. In the name of theCommons of England, I charge all this villainy upon Warren Hastings, inthis last moment of my application to you. 

Therefore, it is with confidence that, ordered by the Commons of GreatBritain, I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and misdemeanors. 

I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain in Parliamentassembled, whose parliamentary trust he has abused. 

I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, whosenational character he has dishonored. 

I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted. 

I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose property he hasdestroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate. 

I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruellyoutraged, injured, and oppressed, in both sexes. And I impeach him inthe name and by the virtue of those eternal laws of justice, whichought equally to pervade every age, condition, rank, and situation, inthe world. 

BUNKER HILL

From the oration at the laying of the corner stone of the monument, June 17, 1825. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, publishers of "TheGreat Speeches and Orations of Daniel Webster"

By DANIEL WEBSTER

This uncounted multitude before me and around me proves the feelingwhich the occasion has excited. These thousands of human faces, glowingwith sympathy and joy, and from the impulses of a common gratitudeturned reverently to heaven in this spacious temple of the firmament, proclaim that the day, the place, and the purpose of our assemblinghave made a deep impression on our hearts. 

If, indeed, there be anything in local association fit to affect themind of man, we need not strive to repress the emotions which agitateus here. We are among the sepulchers of our fathers. We are on grounddistinguished by their valor, their constancy, and the shedding oftheir blood. We are here, not to fix an uncertain date in our annals, nor to draw into notice an obscure and unknown spot. If our humblepurpose had never been conceived, if we ourselves had never been born, the 17th of June, 1775, would have been a day on which all subsequenthistory would have poured its light, and the eminence where we stand apoint of attraction to the eyes of successive generations. But we areAmericans. We live in what may be called the early age of this greatcontinent; and we know that our posterity, through all time, are hereto enjoy and suffer the allotments of humanity. We see before us aprobable train of great events; we know that our own fortunes have beenhappily cast, and it is natural, therefore, that we should be moved bythe contemplation of occurrences which have guided our destiny beforemany of us were born, and settled the condition in which we should passthat portion of our existence which God allows to man on earth. 

THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS

In dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, Pa. , Nov. 19, 1863

BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on thiscontinent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to theproposition that all men are created equal. 

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We aremet on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate aportion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gavetheir lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting andproper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--wecannot hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, whostruggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add ordetract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they whofought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to behere dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from thesehonored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which theygave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolvethat these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, underGod, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of thepeople, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

VOCAL FLEXIBILITY

CĘSAR, THE FIGHTER

From "The Courtship of Miles Standish, " by permission of, and bySpecial arrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorizedpublishers of this author's works

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW

 "A wonderful man was this Cęsar!

You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellowWho could both write and fight, and in both was equally skillful!"Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful:"Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and his weapons. Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictateSeven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs. ""Truly, " continued the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other, "Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Cęsar!Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when he said it. Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after;Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered;He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded;Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus!Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders, When the rear-guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too, And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely togetherThere was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from asoldier, Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded thecaptains, Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns;Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons;So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done, You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"

OFFICIAL DUTY

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

I want to talk to you of the attitude that should properly be observedby legislators, by executive officers, toward wealth, and the attitudethat should be observed in return by men of means, and especially bycorporations, toward the body politic and toward their fellow citizens. 

I utterly distrust the man of whom it is continually said: "Oh, he's agood fellow, but, of course, in politics, he plays politics" It isabout as bad for a man to profess, and for those that listen to him bytheir plaudits to insist upon his professing something which they knowhe cannot live up to, as it is for him to go below what he ought to do, because if he gets into the habit of lying to himself and to hisaudience as to what he intends to do, it is certain to eat away hismoral fiber. 

He won't be able then to stand up to what he knows ought to be done. The temptation of the average politician is to promise everything tothe reformers and then to do everything for the organization. I think Ican say that, whatever I have promised on the stump or off the stump, either expressly or impliedly, to either organization or reformers, Ihave kept my promise; and I should keep it just as much if thereformers disapproved. 

A public man is bound to represent his constituents, but he is no lessbound to cease to represent them when, on a great moral question, hefeels that they are taking the wrong side. Let him go out of politicsrather than stay in at the cost of doing what his own conscienceforbids him to do. 

LOOK WELL TO YOUR SPEECH

From "Self-Cultivation in English, " with the permission of the author, and of Thomas Y. Crowell Company, New York, publishers

BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER

First, then, "Look well to your speech. " It is commonly supposed thatwhen a man seeks literary power he goes to his room and plans anarticle for the press. But this is to begin literary culture at thewrong end. We speak a hundred times for every once we write. Thebusiest writer produces little more than a volume a year, not so muchas his talk would amount to in a week. Consequently through speech itis usually decided whether a man is to have command of his language ornot. If he is slovenly in his ninety-nine cases of talking, he canseldom pull himself up to strength and exactitude in the hundredth caseof writing. A person is made in one piece, and the same being runsthrough a multitude of performances. Whether words are uttered on paperor to the air, the effect on the utterer is the same. Vigor orfeebleness results according as energy or slackness has been incommand. I know that certain adaptations to a new field are oftennecessary. A good speaker may find awkwardnesses in himself when hecomes to write, a good writer when he speaks. And certainly cases occurwhere a man exhibits distinct strength in one of the two, speaking orwriting, and not in the other. But such cases are rare. As a rule, language once within our control can be employed for oral or forwritten purposes. And since the opportunities for oral practiceenormously outbalance those for written, it is the oral which arechiefly significant in the development of literary power. We rightlysay of the accomplished writer that he shows a mastery of his owntongue. 

Fortunate it is, then, that self-cultivation in the use of English mustchiefly come through speech; because we are always speaking, whateverelse we do. In opportunities for acquiring a mastery of language, thepoorest and busiest are at no large disadvantage as compared with theleisured rich. It is true the strong impulse which comes from thesuggestion and approval of society may in some cases be absent; butthis can be compensated by the sturdy purpose of the learner. Arecognition of the beauty of well-ordered words, a strong desire, patience under discouragements, and promptness in counting everyoccasion as of consequence, --these are the simple agencies which sweepone on to power. Watch your speech, then. 

HAMLET TO THE PLAYERS

From "Hamlet"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

_Hamlet_. 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 playersdo, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the airtoo much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the verytorrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you mustacquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, itoffends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear apassion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I could have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoingTermagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. 

_I Player_. I warrant your honor. 

_Hamlet_. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion beyour tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; withthis special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature;for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirrorup to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, andthe very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now thisoverdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one mustin your allowance o'erweigh a whole theater of others. O, there beplayers that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and thathighly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent ofChristians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so struttedand bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had mademen and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 

BELLARIO'S LETTER

From "The Merchant of Venice"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

_Duke_. This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learneddoctor to our court. Where is he?

_Nerissa_. He attendeth here hard by, To know your answer, whetheryou'll admit him. 

_Duke_. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go give himcourteous conduct to this place. Meantime the court shall hearBellario's letter. 

_Clerk_ (reads). "Your grace shall understand that at the receiptof your letter I am very sick; but in the instant that your messengercame, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his nameis Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy betweenthe Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books together:he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at myimportunity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseechyou, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverendestimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. Ileave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publishhis commendation. "

CASCA, SPEAKING OF CĘSAR

From "Julius Cęsar"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

_Casca_. You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

_Brutus_. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day, That Cęsarlooks so sad. 

_Casca_. Why, you were with him, were you not?

_Brutus_. I should not, then, ask Casca what had chanc'd. 

_Casca_. Why, there was a crown offered him; and being offered him, heput it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fella-shouting. 

_Brutus_. What was the second noise for?

_Casca_. Why, for that too. 

_Cassius_. They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

_Casca_. Why, for that too. 

_Brutus_. Was the crown offered him thrice?

_Casca_. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every timegentler than other; and at every putting-by mine honest neighborsshouted. 

_Cassius_. Who offered him the crown?

_Casca_. Why, Antony. 

_Brutus_. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 

_Casca_. I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it wasmere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him acrown;--yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to mythinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again;then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loth to layhis fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put itthe third time by: and still as he refused it, the rabblement shouted, and clapped their chopped hands, and threw up their sweaty nightcaps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Cęsar refused thecrown, that it had almost choked Cęsar; for he swooned, and fell downat it: and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening mylips, and receiving the bad air. 

SQUANDERING OF THE VOICE

From "Lectures on Oratory" BY HENRY WARD BEECHER

How much squandering there is of the voice! How little there is of theadvantage that may come from conversational tones! How seldom does aman dare to acquit himself with pathos and fervor! And the men arethemselves mechanical and methodical in the bad way who are most afraidof the artificial training that is given in the schools, and who sooften show by the fruit of their labor that the want of oratory is thewant of education. 

How remarkable is the sweetness of voice in the mother, in the father, in the household! The music of no chorded instruments brought togetheris, for sweetness, like the music of familiar affection when spoken bybrother and sister, or by father and mother. 

Conversation itself belongs to oratory. How many men there are who areweighty in argument, who have abundant resources, and who are almostboundless in their power at other times and in other places, but who, when in company among their kind, are exceedingly unapt in theirmethods. Having none of the secret instruments by which the elements ofnature may be touched, having no skill and no power in this direction, they stand as machines before living, sensitive men. A man may be amaster before an instrument; only the instrument is dead; and he hasthe living hand; and out of that dead instrument what wondrous harmonysprings forth at his touch! And if you can electrify an audience by thepower of a living man on dead things, how much more should thataudience be electrified when the chords are living and the man isalive, and he knows how to touch them with divine inspiration!

THE TRAINING OF THE GENTLEMAN

From "Personal Power, " by permission of, and by special arrangementwith, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers of this author'sworks. 

BY WILLIAM J. TUCKER

In this talk about the part which the college may take in the trainingof a gentleman, I have not dwelt, as you have noticed, upon forms orconventionalities. Every gentleman respects form. Respect for form canbe taught, or at least inculcated, but not form itself. One comes to beat ease in society by going into society. Manners come by observation. We imitate, we follow the better fashion of society, the betterbehavior of men. Good breeding consists first in the attention ofothers in our behalf to certain necessary details, then in ourattention to them. We come in time to draw close and nice distinctions. This little thing is right, that is not quite right. So we grow intothe formal habits of a gentleman. "Good manners are made up of constantand petty sacrifices, " says Emerson. It is well to keep this saying inmind as a qualification of another of his more familiar sayings: "Giveme a thought, and my hands and legs and voice and face will all goright. It is only when mind and character slumber that the dress can beseen. "

I like to see the well-bred man, to whom the details of social lifehave become a second nature. I like also to see the play of that firsthealthy instinct in a true man which scorns a mean act, which will notallow him to take part in the making of a mean custom, which forexample, if he be a college fellow, will not suffer him to treatanother fellow as a fag. I am entirely sure that that man is agentleman. 

So then it is, in this world of books, of companionship, of sport, ofstruggle with some of us, of temptation also, and yet more of highincentives, we are all set to the task of coming out, and of helpingone another to come out, as gentlemen. Do not miss, I beseech you, thegreatness of the task. Do not miss its constancy. It is more than theincidental work of a college to train the efficient, the honorable, theunselfish man. A college-bred man must be able to show at all times andon all occasions the quality of his distinction. 

MAKING THE POINT

BRUTUS TO THE ROMAN CITIZENS

From "Julius Cęsar"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

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 honor, and have respect to minehonor, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake yoursenses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in thisassembly, any dear friend of Cęsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' loveto Cęsar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutusrose against Cęsar, this is my answer, --Not that I loved Cęsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cęsar were living, and dieall slaves, than that Cęsar were dead, to live all free men? As Cęsarloved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate I rejoice at it; as hewas valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. Thereis tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; anddeath for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? Ifany, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would notbe a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vilethat will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I have done no more to Cęsar than you shall do to Brutus. The questionof his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffereddeath. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, though he hadno hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a placein 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 samedagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. 

THE PRECEPTS OF POLONIUS

From "Hamlet"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!And these few precepts in thy memorySee thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;But do not dull thy palm with entertainmentOf each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. BewareOf entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and stationAre most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be;For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

THE HIGH STANDARD

From the Lord Rector's address, University of Edinburgh, 1882

BY LORD ROSEBERY

Let us win in the competition of international well-being andprosperity. Let us have a finer, better educated, better lodged, andbetter nourished race than exists elsewhere; better schools, betteruniversities, better tribunals, ay, and better churches. In one phrase, let our standard be higher, not in the jargon of the EducationDepartment, but in the acknowledgment of mankind. The standard ofmankind is not so exalted but that a nobler can be imagined andattained. The dream of him who loved Scotland best would lie not somuch in the direction of antiquarian revival, as in the hope that hiscountry might be pointed out as one that in spite of rocks, and rigor, and poverty, could yet teach the world by precept and example, couldlead the van and point the moral, where greater nations and fairerstates had failed. Those who believe the Scots to be so eminently vaina race, will say that already we are in our opinion the tenth legion ofcivilization. Well, vanity is a centipede with corns on every foot: Iwill not tread where the ground is most dangerous. But if we are notforemost, we may at any rate become so. Our fathers have declared untous what was done in their days and in the old time before them: we knowthat we come of a strenuous stock. Do you remember the words that youngCarlyle wrote to his brother nine years after he had left thisUniversity as a student, forty-three years before he returned as itsRector?--

"I say, Jack, thou and I must never falter. Work, my boy, workunweariedly. I swear that all the thousand miseries of this hard fight, and ill-health, the most terrific of them all, shall never chain usdown. By the river Styx it shall not! Two fellows from a nameless spotin Annandale shall yet show the world the pluck that is in Carlyles. "

Let that be your spirit to-day. You are citizens of no mean city, members of no common state, heirs of no supine empire. You will many ofyou exercise influence over your fellow men: some will study andinterpret our laws, and so become a power; others will again be in aposition to solace and exalt, as destined to be doctors and clergymen, and so the physical and spiritual comforters of mankind. Make the bestof these opportunities. Raise your country, raise your University, raise yourselves. 

ON TAXING THE COLONIES

Delivered in the House of Commons, March, 1775

BY EDMUND BURKE

Reflect, sirs, that when you have fixed a quota of taxation for everycolony, you have not provided for prompt and punctual payment. You mustmake new Boston Port Bills, new restraining laws, new acts for draggingmen to England for trial. You must send out new fleets, new armies. Allis to begin again. From this day forward the empire is never to know anhour's tranquillity. An intestine fire will be kept alive in the bowelsof the colonies, which one time or other must consume this wholeempire. 

Instead of a standing revenue, you will therefore have a perpetualquarrel. Indeed, the noble lord who proposed this project seems himselfto be of that opinion. His project was rather designed for breaking theunion of the colonies than for establishing a revenue. But whatever hisviews may be, as I propose the peace and union of the colonies as thevery foundation of my plan, it cannot accord with one whose foundationis perpetual discord. 

Compare the two. This I offer to give you is plain and simple; theother full of perplexed and intricate mazes. This is mild; that harsh. This is found by experience effectual for its purposes; the other is anew project. This is universal; the other calculated for certaincolonies only. This is immediate in its conciliatory operation; theother remote, contingent, full of hazard. Mine is what becomes thedignity of a ruling people--gratuitous, unconditional, and not held outas a matter of bargain and sale. I have done my duty in proposing it toyou. I have indeed tried you by a long discourse; but this is themisfortune of those to whose influence nothing will be conceded, andwho must win every inch of their ground by argument. You have heard mewith goodness. May you decide with wisdom!

JUSTIFYING THE PRESIDENT

From a speech in the Senate, 1900

By JOHN C. SPOONER

Some one asked the other day why the President did not bring about acessation of hostilities. Upon what basis could he have brought about acessation of hostilities? Should he have asked Aguinaldo for anarmistice? If so, upon what basis should he have requested it? Whatshould he say to him? "Please stop this fighting"? "What for, "Aguinaldo would say; "do you propose to retire?" "No. " "Do you proposeto grant us independence?" "No, not now. " "Well, why, then, anarmistice?" The President would doubtless be expected to reply: "Somedistinguished gentlemen in the United States, members of the UnitedStates Senate, and others, have discovered a doubt about our right tobe here at all, some question whether we have acquired the Philippines, some question as to whether we have correctly read the Declaration ofIndependence; and I want an armistice until we can consult anddetermine finally whether we have acquired the Philippines or not, whether we are violating the Declaration of Independence or not, whether we are trampling upon the Constitution or not. " That ispractically the proposition. 

No, Mr. President, men may say in criticism of the President what theychoose. He has been grossly insulted in this chamber, and it appearsupon the record. He has gone his way patiently, exercising the utmostforbearance, all his acts characterized by a desire to do preciselywhat the Congress had placed upon him by its ratification of the treatyand its increase of the army. He has done it in a way to impress uponthe Filipinos, so far as language and action could do it, his desire, and the desire of our people, to do them good, to give them the largestpossible measure of liberty. 

BRITAIN AND AMERICA

From an address in the House of Commons, March, 1865

BY JOHN BRIGHT

Why should we fear a great nation on the American Continent? Somepeople fear that, should America become a great nation, she will bearrogant and aggressive. But that does not follow. The character of anation does not depend altogether upon its size, but upon theintelligence, instruction, and morals of its people. You fancy thesupremacy of the sea will pass away from you; and the noble lord, whohas had much experience, and is supposed to be wiser on the subjectthan any other man in the House, will say that "Rule Britannia, " thatnoble old song, may become obsolete. Well, inasmuch as the supremacy ofthe seas means arrogance and the assumption of dictatorial power on thepart of this country, the sooner that becomes obsolete the better. I donot believe that it is for the advantage of this country, or of anycountry in the world, that any one nation should pride itself upon whatis termed the supremacy of the sea; and I hope the time is coming--Ibelieve the hour is hastening--when we shall find that law and justicewill guide the councils and will direct the policy of the Christiannations of the world. Nature will not be baffled because we are jealousof the United States--the decrees of Providence will not be overthrownby aught we can do. 

The population of the United States is now not less than 35, 000, 000. When the next Parliament of England has lived to the age which this haslived to, that population will be 40, 000, 000, and you may calculate theincrease at the rate of rather more than 1, 000, 000 of persons per year. Who is to gainsay it? Will constant snarling at a great republic alterthis state of things, or swell us up in these islands to 40, 000, 000 or50, 000, 000, or bring them down to our 30, 000, 000? Honorable members andthe country at large should consider these facts, and learn from themthat it is the interest of the nations to be at one--and for us to bein perfect courtesy and amity with the great English nation on theother side of the Atlantic. 

VALUES AND TRANSITIONS

KING ROBERT OF SICILY

From "King Robert of Sicily, " by permission of, and by specialarrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers ofthis author's works. 

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW

Days came and went; and now returned againTo Sicily the old Saturnian reign;Under the Angel's governance benignThe happy island danced with corn and wine. 

Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate, Sullen and silent and disconsolate. Dressed in the motley garb that Jesters wear, With look bewildered and a vacant stare, Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn, By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn, His only friend the ape, his only foodWhat others left, --he still was unsubdued. And when the Angel met him on his way, And half in earnest, half in jest, would say, Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feelThe velvet scabbard held a sword of steel, "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woeBurst from him in resistless overflow, And, lifting high his forehead, he would flingThe haughty answer back, "I am, I am the King!"Almost three years were ended; when there cameAmbassadors of great repute and nameFrom Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, Unto King Robert, saying that Pope UrbaneBy letter summoned them forthwith to comeOn Holy Thursday to his city of Rome. And lo! among the menials, in mock state, Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait, His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind, The solemn ape demurely perched behind, King Robert rode, making huge merrimentIn all the country towns through which they went. The Pope received them with great pomp and blareOf bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square, Giving his benediction and embraceFervent and full of apostolic grace. While with congratulations and with prayersHe entertained the Angel unawares, Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd, Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud:"I am the King! Look, and behold in meRobert, your brother, King of Sicily!This man who wears my semblance to your eyes, Is an imposter in a king's disguise. Do you not know me? does no voice withinAnswer my cry, and say we are akin?"The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien, Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene;The Emperor, laughing, said, "It is strange sportTo keep a madman for thy Fool at court!"And the poor, baffled Jester in disgraceWas hustled back among the populace. 

LAYING THE ATLANTIC CABLE

An extract from "Masters of the Situation, " a lecture

BY JAMES T. FIELDS

When I talk across an ocean of 3000 miles, with my friends on the otherside of it, and feel that I may know any hour of the day if all goeswell with them, I think with gratitude of the immense energy andperseverance of that one man, Cyrus W. Field, who spent so many yearsof his life in perfecting a communication second only in importance tothe discovery of this country. Think what that enthusiast accomplishedby his untiring energy. He made fifty voyages across the Atlantic. Eight years more he encountered the odium of failure, but still keptplowing across the Atlantic, flying from city to city, solicitingcapital, holding meetings and forcing down this most colossaldiscouragement. At last day dawned again, and another cable was paidout--this time from the deck of the "Great Eastern. " Twelve hundredmiles of it were laid down, and the ship was just lifting her head to astiff breeze then springing up, when, without a moment's warning, thecable suddenly snapped short off, and plunged into the sea. Nine daysand nights they dragged the bottom of the sea for this lost treasure, and though they grappled it three times, they could not bring it to thesurface. In five months another cable was shipped on board the "GreatEastern, " and this time, by the blessing of heaven, the wires werestretched unharmed from continent to continent. Then came that never-to-be-forgotten search, in four ships, for the lost cable. In the bowof one of these vessels stood Cyrus Field, day and night, in storm andfog, squall and calm, intensely watching the quiver of the grapnel thatwas dragging two miles down on the bottom of the deep. 

At length on the last night of August, a little before midnight, thespirit of this great man was rewarded. I shall here quote his ownwords, as none others could possibly convey so well the thrillinginterest of that hour. He says: "All felt as if life and death hung onthe issue. It was only when the cable was brought over the bow and ontothe deck that men dared to breathe. Even then they hardly believedtheir eyes. Some crept toward it to feel of it to be sure it was there. Then we carried it along to the electricians' room, to see if our long-sought treasure was dead or alive. A few minutes of suspense and aflash told of the lightning current again set free. Then the feelinglong pent up burst forth. Some turned away their heads and wept. Othersbroke into cheers, and the cry ran from man to man, and was heard downin the engine rooms, deck below deck, and from the boats on the water, and the other ships, while the rockets lighted up the darkness of thesea. Then, with thankful hearts, we turned our faces again to the West. But soon the wind rose, and for thirty-six hours we were exposed to allthe dangers of a storm on the Atlantic. Yet, in the very height andfury of the gale, as I sat in the electricians' room, a flash of lightcame up from the deep, which, having crossed to Ireland, came back tome in mid-ocean, telling me that those so dear to me, whom I had lefton the banks of the Hudson, were well, and following us with theirwishes and their prayers. This was like a whisper of God from the sea, bidding me keep heart and hope. "

And now, after all those thirteen years of almost superhuman struggleand that one moment of almost superhuman victory, I think we may safelyinclude Cyrus Field among the masters of the situation. 

O'CONNELL, THE ORATOR

From "Speeches and Lectures, " with the permission of Lothrop, Lee andShepard, Boston, publishers. 

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS

Broadly considered, O'Connell's eloquence has never been equaled inmodern times, certainly not in English speech. Do you think I ampartial? I will vouch John Randolph of Roanoke, the Virginiaslaveholder, who hated an Irishman almost as much as he hated a Yankee, himself an orator of no mean level. Hearing O'Connell, he exclaimed, "This is the man, these are the lips, the most eloquent that speak theEnglish tongue in my day!" I think he was right. I remember thesolemnity of Webster, the grace of Everett, the rhetoric of Choate; Iknow the eloquence that lay hid in the iron logic of Calhoun; I havemelted beneath the magnetism of Sergeant S. Prentiss of Mississippi, who wielded a power few men ever had; it has been my fortune to sit atthe feet of the great speakers of the English tongue on the other sideof the ocean; but I think all of them together never surpassed, and noone of them ever equaled O'Connell. 

Nature intended him for our Demosthenes. Never, since the great Greek, has she sent forth one so lavishly gifted for his work as a tribune ofthe people. In the first place, he had a magnificent presence, impressive in bearing, massive, like that of Jupiter. Webster himselfhardly outdid him in the majesty of his proportions. To be sure, he hadnot Webster's craggy face, and precipice of brow, not his eyes glowinglike anthracite coal. Nor had he the lion roar of Mirabeau. But hispresence filled the eye. A small O'Connell would hardly have been anO'Connell at all. These physical advantages are half the battle. 

I remember Russell Lowell telling us that Mr. Webster came home fromWashington at the time the Whig party thought of dissolution, a year ortwo before his death, and went down to Faneuil Hall to protest; drawinghimself up to his loftiest proportion, his brow clothed with thunder, before the listening thousands, he said, "Well, gentlemen, I am a Whig, a Massachusetts Whig, a Faneuil-Hall Whig, a revolutionary Whig, aconstitutional Whig. If you break the Whig party, sir, where am I togo?" And says Lowell, "We held our breath, thinking where he_could_ go. If he had been five feet three, we should have said, 'Who cares where you go?'" So it was with O'Connell. There wassomething majestic in his presence before he spoke; and he added to itwhat Webster had not, what Clay might have lent--infinite grace, thatmagnetism that melts all hearts into one. I saw him at over sixty-sixyears of age; every attitude was beauty, every gesture grace. You couldonly think of a greyhound as you looked at him; it would have beendelightful to watch him, if he had not spoken a word. Then he had avoice that covered the gamut. The majesty of his indignation, fitlyuttered in tones of superhuman power, made him able to "indict" anation. Carlyle says, "He is God's own anointed king whose single wordmelts all wills into his. " This describes O'Connell. Emerson says, "There is no true eloquence unless there is a man behind the speech. "Daniel O'Connell was listened to because all England and all Irelandknew that there was a man behind the speech. 

I heard him once say, "I send my voice across the Atlantic, careeringlike the thunderstorm against the breeze, to remind the bondman thatthe dawn of his redemption is already breaking. " You seemed to hear thetones come echoing back to London from the Rocky Mountains. Then, withthe slightest possible Irish brogue, he would tell a story, while allExeter Hall shook with laughter. The next moment, tears in his voicelike a Scotch song, five thousand men wept. And all the while noeffort. He seemed only breathing. 

 "As effortless as woodland nooks Send violets up, and paint them blue. "

JUSTIFICATION FOR IMPEACHMENT

Against Warren Hastings, House of Lords, February, 1788

BY EDMUND BURKE

In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy uponWarren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you. 

My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of nationaljustice? Do we want a cause, my Lords? You have the cause of oppressedprinces, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces, andof wasted kingdoms. 

Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there so much iniquity everlaid to the charge of any one? No, my Lords, you must not look topunish any other such delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has notleft substance enough in India to nourish such another delinquent. 

My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have before you the Commonsof Great Britain as prosecutors; and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a moreglorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by thematerial bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bonds of a socialand moral community--all the Commons of England resenting, as theirown, the indignities and cruelties that are offered to all the peopleof India. 

Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of antiquity, nothing inthe modern world, nothing in the range of human imagination, can supplyus with a tribunal like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in themind's eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose authority yousit and whose power you exercise. 

We have here all the branches of the royal family, in a situationbetween majesty and subjection, between the sovereign and the subject--offering a pledge, in that situation, for the support of the rights ofthe Crown and the liberties of the people, both of which extremitiesthey touch. 

WENDELL PHILLIPS, THE ORATOR

From "The Orations and Addresses of George William Curtis, " Vol. III. Copyright, 1894, by Harper and Brothers. 

BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

It was not until Lovejoy fell, while defending his press at Alton, inNovember, 1837, that an American citizen was killed by a raging mob fordeclaring, in a free State, the right of innocent men and women totheir personal liberty. This tragedy, like the deadly blow at CharlesSumner in the Senate Chamber, twenty years afterward, awed the wholecountry with a sense of vast and momentous peril. Never since thepeople of Boston thronged Faneuil Hall on the day after the massacre inState Street, had that ancient hall seen a more solemn and significantassembly. It was the more solemn, the more significant, because theexcited multitude was no longer, as in the Revolutionary day, inspiredby one unanimous and overwhelming purpose to assert and maintainliberty of speech as the bulwark of all other liberty. It was anunwonted and foreboding scene. An evil spirit was in the air. 

When the seemly protest against the monstrous crime had been spoken, and the proper duty of the day was done, a voice was heard, --the voiceof the high officer solemnly sworn to prosecute, in the name ofMassachusetts, every violation of law, declaring, in Faneuil Hall, sixty years after the battle of Bunker Hill, and amid a howling stormof applause, that an American citizen who was put to death by a madcrowd of his fellow citizens for defending his right of free speech, died as the fool dieth. Boston has seen dark days, but never a momentso dark as that. Seven years before, Webster had said, in the famouswords that Massachusetts binds as frontlets between her eyes, "Thereare Boston and Concord, and Lexington and Bunker Hill, and there theywill remain forever. " Had they already vanished? Was the spirit of theRevolution quite extinct? In the very Cradle of Liberty did no sonsurvive to awake its slumbering echoes? By the grace of God such a sonthere was. He had come with the multitude, and he had heard withsympathy and approval the speeches that condemned the wrong; but whenthe cruel voice justified the murderers of Lovejoy, the heart of theyoung man burned within him. This speech, he said to himself, must beanswered. As the malign strain proceeded, the Boston boy, all on fire, with Concord and Lexington tugging at his heart, unconsciouslymurmured, "Such a speech in Faneuil Hall must be answered in FaneuilHall. " "Why not answer it yourself?" whispered a neighbor, whooverheard him. "Help me to the platform and I will, "--and pushing andstruggling through the dense and threatening crowd, the young manreached the platform, was lifted upon it, and, advancing to speak, wasgreeted with a roar of hostile cries. But riding the whirlwindundismayed, as for many a year afterward he directed the same wildstorm, he stood upon the platform in all the beauty and grace ofimperial youth, --the Greeks would have said a god descended, --and inwords that touched the mind and heart and conscience of that vastmultitude, as with fire from heaven, recalling Boston to herself, hesaved his native city and her Cradle of Liberty from the damningdisgrace of stoning the first martyr in the great struggle for personalfreedom. "Mr. Chairman, " he said, "when I heard the gentleman lay downprinciples which placed the rioters, incendiaries, and murderers ofAlton, side by side with Otis and Hancock, and Quincy and Adams, Ithought those pictured lips would have broken into voice to rebuke therecreant American--the slanderer of the dead. " And even as he spokethe vision was fulfilled. Once more its native music rang throughFaneuil Hall. In the orator's own burning words, those pictured lipsdid break into immortal rebuke. In Wendell Phillips, glowing with holyindignation at the insult to America and to man, John Adams and JamesOtis, Josiah Quincy and Samuel Adams, though dead, yet spake. 

In the annals of American speech there had been no such scene sincePatrick Henry's electrical warning to George the Third. It was thatgreatest of oratorical triumphs when a supreme emotion, a sentimentwhich is to mold a people anew, lifted the orator to adequateexpression. Three such scenes are illustrious in our history: that ofthe speech of Patrick Henry at Williamsburg, of Wendell Phillips inFaneuil Hall, of Abraham Lincoln in Gettysburg, --three, and there is nofourth. 

ON THE DISPOSAL OF PUBLIC LANDS

From reports of the Webster-Hayne debate in the United States Senate, January, 1830

BY ROBERT Y. HAYNE

In 1825 the gentleman told the world that the public lands "ought notto be treated as a treasure. " He now tells us that "they must betreated as so much treasure. " What the deliberate opinion of thegentleman on this subject may be, belongs not to me to determine; but Ido not think he can, with the shadow of justice or propriety, impugn mysentiments, while his own recorded opinions are identical with my own. When the gentleman refers to the conditions of the grants under whichthe United States have acquired these lands, and insists that, as theyare declared to be "for the common benefit of all the States, " they canonly be treated as so much treasure, I think he has applied a rule ofconstruction too narrow for the case. If, in the deeds of cession, ithas been declared that the grants were intended "for the common benefitof all the States, " it is clear, from other provisions, that they werenot intended merely as so much property; for it is expressly declaredthat the object of the grants is the erection of new States; and theUnited States, in accepting this trust, bind themselves to facilitatethe foundation of those States, to be admitted into the Union with allthe rights and privileges of the original States. 

This, sir, was the great end to which all parties looked, and it is bythe fulfillment of this high trust that "the common benefit of all theStates" is to be best promoted. Sir, let me tell the gentleman that, inthe part of the country in which I live, we do not measure politicalbenefits by the money standard. We consider as more valuable than gold, liberty, principle, and justice. But, sir, if we are bound to act onthe narrow principles contended for by the gentleman, I am wholly at aloss to conceive how he can reconcile his principles with his ownpractice. The lands are, it seems, to be treated "as so much treasure, "and must be applied to the "common benefit of all the States. " Now, ifthis be so, whence does he derive the right to appropriate them forpartial and local objects? How can the gentleman consent to vote awayimmense bodies of these lands for canals in Indiana and Illinois, tothe Louisville and Portland Canal, to Kenyon College in Ohio, toschools for the deaf and dumb, and other objects of a similardescription?

THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

From "Speeches and Presidential Addresses, " Current LiteraturePublishing Company, New York. 

BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN

I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing in this place, where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotionto principle, from which sprang the institutions under which we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task ofrestoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return, sir, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so faras I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originatedin, and were given to the world from, this hall. I have never had afeeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodiedin the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered over thedangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and framedand adopted that Declaration. I have pondered over the toils that wereendured by the officers and soldiers of the army who achieved thatindependence. I have often inquired of myself what great principle oridea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together. It was not themere matter of separation of the colonies from the motherland, but thatsentiment in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty notalone to the people of this country, but hope to all the world, for allfuture time. It was that which gave promise that in due time theweights would be lifted from the shoulders of all men, and that allshould have an equal chance. This is the sentiment embodied in theDeclaration of Independence. Now, my friends, can this country be savedon that basis? If it can, I shall consider myself one of the happiestmen in the world if I can help to save it. If it cannot be saved uponthat principle, it will be truly awful. But if this country cannot besaved without giving up that principle, I was about to say I wouldrather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it. Now, in my viewof the present aspect of affairs, there is no need of bloodshed andwar. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course;and I may say in advance that there will be no bloodshed unless it isforced upon the government. The government will not use force, unlessforce is used against it. 

My friends, this is wholly an unprepared speech. I did not expect to becalled on to say a word when I came here. I supposed I was merely to dosomething toward raising a flag. I may, therefore, have said somethingindiscreet. But I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, and, if it be the pleasure of Almighty God, to die by. 

EXPRESSING THE FEELING

NORTHERN GREETING TO SOUTHERN VETERANS

From "Speeches and Addresses, " with the permission of the author and ofHoughton Mifflin Company, publishers. 

BY HENRY CABOT LODGE

I was a boy ten years old when the troops marched away to defendWashington. I saw the troops, month after month, pour through thestreets of Boston. I saw Shaw go forth at the head of his blackregiment, and Bartlett, shattered in body, but dauntless in soul, rideby to carry what was left of him once more to the battlefields of theRepublic. I saw Andrew, standing bareheaded on the steps of the StateHouse, bid the men godspeed. I cannot remember the words he said, but Ican never forget the fervid eloquence which brought tears to the eyesand fire to the hearts of all who listened. To my boyish mind one thingalone was clear, that the soldiers, as they marched past, were all, inthat supreme hour, heroes and patriots. Other feelings have, in theprogress of time, altered much, but amid many changes that simplebelief of boyhood has never altered. 

And you, brave men who wore the gray, would be the first to hold me orany other son of the North in just contempt if I should say that now itwas all over I thought the North was wrong and the result of the war amistake. To the men who fought the battles of the Confederacy we holdout our hands freely, frankly, and gladly. We have no bitter memoriesto revive, no reproaches to utter. Differ in politics and in a thousandother ways we must and shall in all good nature, but never let usdiffer with each other on sectional or state lines, by race or creed. 

We welcome you, soldiers of Virginia, as others more eloquent than Ihave said, to New England. We welcome you to old Massachusetts. Wewelcome you to Boston and to Faneuil Hall. In your presence here, andat the sound of your voices beneath this historic roof, the years rollback, and we see the figure and hear again the ringing tones of yourgreat orator, Patrick Henry, declaring to the first ContinentalCongress, "The distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, NewYorkers, and New Englanders are no more. I am not a Virginian, but anAmerican. "

A distinguished Frenchman, as he stood among the graves of Arlington, said: "Only a great people is capable of a great civil war. " Let us addwith thankful hearts that only a great people is capable of a greatreconciliation. Side by side Virginia and Massachusetts led thecolonies into the War for Independence. Side by side they founded thegovernment of the United States. Morgan and Greene, Lee and Knox, Moultrie and Prescott, men of the South and men of the North, foughtshoulder to shoulder, and wore the same uniform of buff and blue, --theuniform of Washington. 

Mere sentiment all this, some may say. But it is sentiment, truesentiment, that has moved the world. Sentiment fought the war, andsentiment has reunited us. 

So I say that the sentiment manifested by your presence here, brethrenof Virginia, sitting side by side with those who wore the blue, tellsus that if war should break again upon the country the sons of Virginiaand Massachusetts would, as in the olden days, stand once more shoulderto shoulder, with no distinction in the colors that they wear. It isfraught with tidings of peace on earth, and you may read its meaning inthe words on yonder picture, "Liberty and union, now and forever, oneand inseparable!"

MATCHES AND OVERMATCHES

From Webster's reply to Hayne in the United States Senate, January, 1830, Little, Brown and Company, Boston, publishers. 

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

If, sir, the honorable member, _modestia gratia_, had chosen thusto defer to his friend and to pay him a compliment without intentionaldisparagement to others, it would have been quite according to thefriendly courtesies of debate, and not at all ungrateful to my ownfeelings. I am not one of those, sir, who esteem any tribute of regard, whether light and occasional or more serious and deliberate, which maybe bestowed on others, as so much unjustly withholden from themselves. But the tone and manner of the gentleman's question forbid me thus tointerpret it, I am not at liberty to consider it as nothing more than acivility to his friend. It had an air of taunt and disparagement, something of the loftiness of asserted superiority, which does notallow me to pass it over without notice. It was put as a question forme to answer, and so put as if it were difficult for me to answer, whether I deemed the member from Missouri an overmatch for myself indebate here. It seems to me, sir, that this is extraordinary languageand an extraordinary tone for the discussions of this body. 

Matches and overmatches! Those terms are more applicable elsewhere thanhere, and fitter for other assemblies than this. Sir, the gentlemanseems to forget where and what we are. This is a senate, a senate ofequals, of men of individual honor and personal character and ofabsolute independence. We know no masters, we acknowledge no dictators. This is a hall for mutual consultation and discussion; not an arena forthe exhibitions of champions. I offer myself, sir, as a match for noman; I throw the challenge of debate at no man's feet. But then, sir, since the honorable member has put the question in a manner that callsfor an answer, I will give him an answer; and tell him that, holdingmyself to be the humblest of the members here, I yet know nothing inthe arm of his friend from Missouri, either alone or when aided by thearm of _his_ friend from South Carolina, that need deter even mefrom espousing whatever opinions I may choose to espouse, from debatingwhenever I may choose to debate, or from speaking whatever I may seefit to say on the floor of the Senate. 

THE COALITION

From the reply to Hayne

"The Great Speeches and Orations of Daniel Webster, " Little, Brownand Company, Boston, publishers. 

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

Sir, I shall not allow myself, on this occasion, I hope on no occasion, to betray myself into any loss of temper; but if provoked, as I trust Inever shall be, into crimination and recrimination, the honorablemember may perhaps find that, in that contest, there will be blows totake as well as to give; that others can state comparisons assignificant, at least, as his own, and that his impunity may possiblydemand of him whatever powers of taunt and sarcasm he may possess. Icommend him to a prudent husbandry of his resources. 

But, sir, the Coalition! The Coalition! Aye, "the murdered Coalition!"The gentleman asks if I were led or frighted into this debate by thespecter of the Coalition. "Was it the ghost of the murdered Coalition, "he exclaims, "which haunted the member from Massachusetts; and which, like the ghost of Banquo, would never down?" "The murdered Coalition!"Sir, this charge of a coalition, in reference to the lateadministration, is not original with the honorable member. It did notspring up in the Senate. Whether as a fact, as an argument, or as anembellishment, it is all borrowed. He adopts it, indeed, from a verylow origin, and a still lower present condition. It is one of thethousand calumnies with which the press teemed during an excitedpolitical canvass. It was a charge of which there was not only no proofor probability, but which was in itself wholly impossible to be true. No man of common information ever believed a syllable of it. Yet it wasof that class of falsehoods which, by continued repetition, through allthe organs of detraction and abuse, are capable of misleading those whoare already far misled, and of further fanning passion already kindlinginto flame. Doubtless it served in its day, and in greater or lessdegree, the end designed by it. Having done that, it has sunk into thegeneral mass of stale and loathed calumnies. It is the very cast-offslough of a polluted and shameless press. Incapable of furthermischief, it lies in the sewer, lifeless and despised. It is not now, sir, in the power of the honorable member to give it dignity or decencyby attempting to elevate it and to introduce it into the Senate. Hecannot change it from what it is, an object of general disgust andscorn. On the contrary, the contact, if he choose to touch it, is morelikely to drag him down, down to the place where it lies itself. 

IN HIS OWN DEFENSE

BY ROBERT EMMET

I am asked what I have to say why sentence of death should not bepronounced on me, according to law. 

I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France!and for what end? It is alleged that I wish to sell the independence ofmy country; and for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? Andis this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconcilescontradictions? No; I am no emissary; and my ambition was to hold aplace among the deliverers of my country, not in power nor in profit, but in the glory of the achievement. Sell my country's independence toFrance! and for what? Was it for a change of masters? No, but forambition. O my country! was it personal ambition that could influenceme? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not by my education andfortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myselfamongst the proudest of your oppressors? My country was my idol! To itI sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment; and for it I nowoffer up my life. 

My lords, you are impatient for the sacrifice. Be yet patient! I havebut a few more words to say--I am going to my cold and silent grave--mylamp of life is nearly extinguished--my race is run--the grave opens toreceive me, and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask atmy departure from this world: it is--the charity of its silence. Let noman write my epitaph; for, as no man who knows my motives dares nowvindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let themand me rest in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When mycountry takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and nottill then, let my epitaph be written. I have done. 

ON RESISTANCE TO GREAT BRITAIN

From a speech in the Provincial Convention, Virginia, March, 1775

BY PATRICK HENRY

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose benot to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possiblemotive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of theworld, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and to rivet upon us those chains which theBritish ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to opposethem? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the lastten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. Wehave held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but ithas been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humblesupplication? What terms shall we find which have not been alreadyexhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the stormwhich is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, wehave supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, andhave implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of theministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; ourremonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; oursupplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned withcontempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after all these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is nolonger any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserveinviolate these inestimable privileges for which we have been so longcontending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle inwhich we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselvesnever to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall beobtained, we must fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal toarms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us!

INVECTIVE AGAINST LOUIS BONAPARTE

From a reprint in "A Modern Reader and Speaker, " by George Ridde, Duffield and Company, New York, publishers. 

BY VICTOR HUGO

I have entered the lists with the actual ruler of Europe, for it iswell for the world that I should exhibit the picture. Louis Bonaparteis the intoxication of triumph. He is the incarnation of merry yetsavage despotism. He is the mad plenitude of power seeking for limits, but finding them not, neither in men nor facts. Louis Bonaparte holdsFrance; and he who holds France holds the world. He is master of thevotes, master of consciences, master of the people; he names hissuccessor, does away with eternity, and places the future in a sealedenvelope. Thirty eager newspaper correspondents inform the world thathe has frowned, and every electric wire quivers if he raises his littlefinger. Around him is heard the clanking of the saber and the roll ofthe drum. He is seated in the shadow of the eagles, begirt by rampartsand bayonets. Free people tremble and conceal their liberty lest heshould rob them of it. The great American Republic even hesitatesbefore him, and dares not withdraw her ambassador. 

Europe awaits his invasion. He is able to do as he wishes, and hedreams of impossibilities. Well, this master, this triumphantconqueror, this vanquisher, this dictator, this emperor, this all-powerful man, one lonely man, robbed and ruined, dares to rise up andattack. 

Yes, I attack Louis Napoleon; I attack him openly, before all theworld. I attack him before God and man. I attack him boldly andrecklessly for love of the people and for love of France. He is goingto be an emperor. Let him be one; but let him remember that, though youmay secure an empire, you cannot secure an easy conscience!

This is the man by whom France is governed! Governed, do I say?--possessed in supreme and sovereign sway! And every day, and everymorning, by his decrees, by his messages, by all the incredible drivelwhich he parades in the "Moniteur, " this emigrant, who knows notFrance, teaches France her lesson! and this ruffian tells France he hassaved her! And from whom? From herself! Before him, Providencecommitted only follies; God was waiting for him to reduce everything toorder; at last he has come!

II

For thirty-six years there had been in France all sorts of perniciousthings, --the tribune, a vociferous thing; the press, an obstreperousthing; thought, an insolent thing, and liberty, the most crying abuseof all. But he came, and for the tribune he has substituted the Senate;for the press, the censorship; for thought, imbecility; and forliberty, the saber; and by the saber and the Senate, by imbecility andcensorship, France is saved. Saved, bravo! And from whom, I repeat?From herself. For what was this France of ours, if you please? A hordeof marauders and thieves, of anarchists, assassins, and demagogues. Shehad to be manacled, had this mad woman, France; and it is MonsieurLouis Bonaparte who puts the handcuffs on her. Now she is in a dungeon, on a diet of bread and water, punished, humiliated, garotted, safelycared for. Be not disturbed; Monsieur Bonaparte, a policeman stationedat the Élysée, is answerable for her to Europe. He makes it hisbusiness to be so; this wretched France is in the straitjacket, and ifshe stirs--Ah, what is this spectacle before our eyes? Is it a dream?Is it a nightmare? On one side a nation, the first of nations, and onthe other, a man, the last of men; and this is what this man does tothis nation. What! he tramples her under his feet, he laughs in herface, he mocks and taunts her, he disowns, insults, and flouts her!What! he says, "I alone am worthy of consideration!" What! in this landof France where none would dare to slap the face of his fellow, thisman can slap the face of the nation? Oh, the abominable shame of itall! Every time that Monsieur Bonaparte spits, every face must bewiped! And this can last! and you tell me it will last! No! No! byevery drop in every vein, no! It shall not last! Ah, if this did last, it would be in very truth because there would no longer be a God inheaven, nor a France on earth!

SHOWING THE PICTURE

MOUNT, THE DOGE OF VENICE!

From the play, "Foscari"

BY MARY RUSSELL MITFORD

_Doge_. What! didst thou never hearOf the old prediction that was verifiedWhen I became the Doge?

_Zeno_. An old prediction!

_Doge_. Some seventy years ago--it seems to meAs fresh as yesterday--being then a ladNo higher than my hand, idle as an heir, And all made up of gay and truant sports, I flew a kite, unmatched in shape or size, Over the river--we were at our houseUpon the Brenta then; it soared aloft, Driven by light vigorous breezes from the seaSoared buoyantly, till the diminished toyGrew smaller than the falcon when she stoopsTo dart upon her prey. I sent for cord, Servant on servant hurrying, till the kiteShrank to the size of a beetle: still I calledFor cord, and sent to summon father, mother, My little sisters, my old halting nurse, --I would have had the whole world to surveyMe and my wondrous kite. It still soared on, And I stood bending back in ecstasy, My eyes on that small point, clapping my hands, And shouting, and half envying it the flightThat made it a companion of the stars, When close beside me a deep voice exclaimed--Aye, mount! mount! mount!--I started back, and sawA tall and aged woman, one of the wildPeculiar people whom wild Hungary sendsRoving through every land. She drew her cloakAbout her, turned her black eyes up to Heaven, And thus pursued: Aye, like his fortunes, mount, The future Doge of Venice! And beforeFor very wonder any one could speakShe disappeared. 

_Zeno_. Strange! Hast thou never seenThat woman since?

_Doge_. I never saw her more. 

THE REVENGE

From "Tennyson's Poetical Works, " published by Houghton MifflinCompany, Boston. 

BY ALFRED LORD TENNYSON

"Shall we fight or shall we fly?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 Englishmen. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, For I never turned my back upon don or devil yet. "Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roar'd a hurrah, and soThe 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. And the little _Revenge_ ran on thro' the long sea lane between. 

And while now the great _San Philip_ hung above us like a cloudWhence the thunderbolt will fallLong and loud, Four galleons drew awayFrom the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay, And the battle-thunder broke from them all. 

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 her battle-thunder and flame;Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame, 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 summer night was gone, With a grisly wound to be dressed, 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, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still could sting, So they watched what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slainand half of the rest of us maimed for lifeIn 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 and bent, and the powder was all of it spent;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 nightAs may never be fought again!We have won great glory, my men!And a day less or moreAt 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!"

A VISION OF WAR

From a Memorial Day address, with the permission of C. P. Farrell, NewYork, publisher and owner of the Ingersoll copyrighted books. 

BY ROBERT G. INGERSOLL

The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the greatstruggle for national life. We hear the sounds of preparation; themusic of boisterous drums; the silver voices of heroic bugles. We seethousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators. We see thepale cheeks of women, and the flushed faces of men; and in thoseassemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered withflowers. We lose sight of them no more. We are with them when theyenlist in the great army of freedom. We see them part with those theylove. Some are walking for the last time in quiet, woody places withthe maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows ofeternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending overcradles, kissing babes that are asleep. Some are receiving theblessings of old men. Some are parting with mothers who hold them andpress them to their hearts again and again and say nothing. Kisses andtears, tears and kisses--divine mingling of agony and joy! And some aretalking with wives, and endeavoring with brave words, spoken in the oldtones, to drive from their hearts the awful fear. We see them part. Wesee the wife standing in the door with the babe in her arms--standingin the sunlight, sobbing. At the turn in the road a hand waves--sheanswers by holding high in her loving arms the child. He is gone, andforever. 

We see them all as they march proudly away under the flaunting flags, keeping time to the grand, wild music of war, --marching down thestreets of the great cities, through the towns and across the prairies, down to the fields of glory, to do and to die for the eternal right. 

A vision of the future rises:--

I see our country filled with happy homes, with firesides of content--the foremost of all the earth. 

I see a world where thrones have crumbled and kings are dust. Thearistocracy of idleness has perished from the earth. 

I see a world without a slave. Man at last is free. Nature's forceshave by science been enslaved. Lightning and light, wind and wave, frost and flame, and all the secret-subtle powers of earth and air arethe tireless toilers for the human race. 

I see a world at peace, adorned with every form of art, with music'smyriad voices thrilled, while lips are rich with words of love andtruth; a world in which no exile sighs, no prisoner mourns; a world onwhich the gibbet's shadow does not fall; a world where labor reaps itsfull reward, where work and worth go hand in hand, where the poor girltrying to win bread with the needle--the needle that has been called"the asp for the breast of the poor"--is not driven to the desperatechoice of crime or death, of suicide or shame. 

I see a world without the beggar's outstretched palm, the miser'sheartless, stony stare, the piteous wail of want, the livid lips oflies, the cruel eyes of scorn. 

I see a race without disease of flesh or brain, --shapely and fair, --themarried harmony of form and function, --and, as I look, life lengthens, joy deepens, love canopies the earth; and over all, in the great dome, shines the eternal star of human hope. 

SUNSET NEAR JERUSALEM

From an article in the _Century Magazine_, June, 1906, with thePermission of the Century Company and of the author. 

BY CORWIN KNAPP LINSON

To our Northern eyes the intense brilliancy of the tropical and semi-tropical sky comes as a revelation. Sometimes at noon it is painfullydazzling; but the evening is a vision of prismatic light holdingcarnival in the air, wherein Milton's "twilight gray" has no part. Unless the sky is held in the relentless grip of a winter storm, theOrient holds no gray in its evening tones; these are translucent andglowing from the setting of the sun until the stars appear. In Greecewe are dreamers in that subtle atmosphere, and in Egypt visionariesunder the spell of an ethereal loveliness where the filigree patterningof white dome and minaret and interlacing palm and feathery pepper treeleaves little wonder in the mind that the ornamentation of theirarchitecture is so ravishing in its tracery. 

Outside the walls of Jerusalem on the north there is a point on a knollwhich commands the venerable city that David took for his own. Fromhere you can watch the variable glow of color spread over the wholebreadth of country, from the ground at one's feet to the distant purplehilltops of Bethlehem. The fluid air seems to swim, as if laden withincense. The rocks underfoot are of all tones of lavender in shadow, and of tender, warm gleams in the light, casting vivid violet shadowsathwart the mottled orange of the ground. 

Down in the little valley just below us a tiny vineyard nestles in thehalf-light; the gray road trails outside; and beyond rise the walls, serene and stately, catching on their highest towers the last rays ofthe sun. 

The pointed shaft of the German church lifts a gray-green finger tippedwith rose into the ambient air. The sable dome of the Holy Sepulcheryields a little to the subtle influence, and shows a softer and morebecoming purple. 

All the unlovely traits and the squalor of the city are lost, sodelicately tender is the mass of buildings painted against thebackground of distance. 

It had been one of those days in March when the clouds of "the latterrains" had been blowing from the west. As the day drew near its close, the heavy mists assembled in great masses of ominous gray and blue, golden-edged against the turquoise sky. With such speed did they movethat they seemed suddenly to leap from the horizon, and the vast domeof the heaven became filled with weird, flying monsters racingoverhead. The violence of the wind tore the blue into fragments, sothat what only a moment since was a colossal weight of cloudthreatening to ingulf the universe, was now like a great host marshaledin splendid array, flying banners of crimson, whose ranks were everchanging, until they scattered in disordered flight across the face ofthe sky. 

As the lowering sun neared the horizon, the color grew more and morevivid, until the whole heaven was aflame with a whirlwind of scarletand gold and crimson, of violet and blue and emerald, flecked withcopper and bronze and shreds of smoky clouds in shadow, a tempestuousriot of color so wild and extraordinary as to hold one spellbound. 

Had not David beheld a similar sky when he wrote:--

 O Lord my God, thou art very great; Thou art clothed with honor and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: Who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain: Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: Who maketh the clouds his chariot: Who walketh upon the wings of the wind: Who maketh winds his messengers; His ministers a flaming fire. 

A RETURN IN TRIUMPH

From a speech before the New England Society of New York, December, 1886

BY T. DE WITT TALMAGE

I never so realized what this country was and is as on the day when Ifirst saw some of these gentlemen of the Army and Navy. It was when atthe close of the War our armies came back and marched in review beforethe President's stand at Washington. I do not care whether a man was aRepublican or a Democrat, a Northern man or a Southern man, if he hadany emotion of nature, he could not look upon it without weeping. Godknew that the day was stupendous, and He cleared the heaven of cloudand mist and chill, and sprung the blue sky as the triumphal arch forthe returning warriors to pass under. From Arlington Heights the springfoliage shook out its welcome, as the hosts came over the hills, andthe sparkling waters of the Potomac tossed their gold to the feet ofthe battalions as they came to the Long Bridge and in almostinterminable line passed over. The Capitol never seemed so majestic ason that morning: snowy white, looking down upon the tides of men thatcame surging down, billow after billow. Passing in silence, yet I heardin every step the thunder of conflicts through which they had waded, and seemed to see dripping from their smoke-blackened flags the bloodof our country's martyrs. For the best part of two days we stood andwatched the filing on of what seemed endless battalions, brigade afterbrigade, division after division, host after host, rank beyond rank;ever moving, ever passing; marching, marching; tramp, tramp, tramp--thousands after thousands, battery front, arms shouldered, columnssolid, shoulder to shoulder, wheel to wheel, charger to charger, nostril to nostril. 

Commanders on horses with their manes entwined with roses, and necksenchained with garlands, fractious at the shouts that ran along theline, increasing from the clapping of children clothed in white, standing on the steps of the Capitol, to the tumultuous vociferation ofhundreds of thousands of enraptured multitudes, crying "Huzza! Huzza!"Gleaming muskets, thundering parks of artillery, rumbling pontoonwagons, ambulances from whose wheels seemed to sound out the groans ofthe crushed and the dying that they had carried. These men came frombalmy Minnesota, those from Illinois prairies. These were often hummedto sleep by the pines of Oregon, those were New England lumbermen. Those came out of the coal-shafts of Pennsylvania. Side by side in onegreat cause, consecrated through fire and storm and darkness, brothersin peril, on their way home from Chancellorsville and Kenesaw Mountainand Fredericksburg, in lines that seemed infinite they passed on. 

We gazed and wept and wondered, lifting up our heads to see if the endhad come, but no! Looking from one end of that long avenue to theother, we saw them yet in solid column, battery front, host beyondhost, wheel to wheel, charger to charger, nostril to nostril, coming asit were from under the Capitol. Forward! Forward! Their bayonets, caught in the sun, glimmered and flashed and blazed, till they seemedlike one long river of silver, ever and anon changed into a river offire. No end of the procession, no rest for the eyes. We turned ourheads from the scene, unable longer to look. We felt disposed to stopour ears, but still we heard it, marching, marching; tramp, tramp, tramp. But hush, --uncover every head! Here they pass, the remnant often men of a full regiment. Silence! Widowhood and orphanage look onand wring their hands. But wheel into line, all ye people! North, South, East, West--all decades, all centuries, all millenniums!Forward, the whole line! Huzza! Huzza!

A RETURN IN DEFEAT

From "The New South, " with the permission of Henry W. Grady, Junior

BY HENRY W. GRADY

Dr. Talmage has drawn for you, with a master hand, the picture of yourreturning armies. He has told you how, in the pomp and circumstance ofwar, they came back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes! Will you bear with me while Itell you of another army that sought its home at the close of the latewar? An army that marched home in defeat and not in victory--in pathosand not in splendor, but in glory that equaled yours, and to hearts asloving as ever welcomed heroes home. Let me picture to you the footsoreConfederate soldier, as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket theparole which was to bear testimony to his children of his fidelity andfaith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of him, as ragged, half-starved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled by wantand wounds, having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wringsthe hands of his comrades in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained andpallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginiahills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow and painfuljourney. What does he find?--let me ask you who went to your homeseager to find, in the welcome you had justly earned, full payment forfour years' sacrifice--what does he find when, having followed thebattle-stained cross against overwhelming odds, dreading death not halfso much as surrender, he reaches the home he left so prosperous andbeautiful? He finds his house in ruins, his farm devastated, his slavesfree, his stock killed, his barn empty, his trade destroyed, his moneyworthless; his social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away;his people without law or legal status; his comrades slain, and theburdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his verytraditions gone; without money, credit, employment, material training;and besides all this, confronted with the gravest problem that ever methuman intelligence--the establishing of a status for the vast body ofhis liberated slaves. 

What does he do--this hero in gray, with a heart of gold? Does he sitdown in sullenness and despair? Not for a day. Surely God, who hadstripped him of his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruinwas never before so overwhelming, never was restoration swifter. Thesoldier stepped from the trenches into the furrow; horses that hadcharged Federal guns marched before the plow, and the fields that ranred with human blood in April were green with the harvest in June;women reared in luxury cut up their dresses and made breeches for theirhusbands, and, with a patience and heroism that fit women always as agarment, gave their hands to work. There was little bitterness in allthis. Cheerfulness and frankness prevailed. I want to say to GeneralSherman--who is considered an able man in our parts, though some peoplethink he is kind of careless about fire--that from the ashes he left usin 1864 we have raised a brave and beautiful city; that somehow orother we have caught the sunshine in the bricks and mortar of ourhomes, and have builded therein not one ignoble prejudice or memory. 

But in all this what have we accomplished? What is the sum of our work?We have found that in the general summary the free negro counts morethan he did as a slave. We have planted the schoolhouse on the hilltopand made it free to white and black. We have sowed towns and cities inthe place of theories, and put business above politics. 

Above all, we know that we have achieved in these "piping times ofpeace" a fuller independence for the South than that which our fatherssought to win in the forum by their eloquence, or compel on the fieldby their swords. 

EXPRESSION BY ACTION

IN OUR FOREFATHERS' DAY

From a speech before the New England Society of New York, December, 1886

BY T. DE WITT TALMAGE

I must not introduce a new habit into these New England dinners, andconfine myself to the one theme. For eighty-one years your speakershave been accustomed to make the toast announced the point from whichthey start, but to which they never return. So I shall not stick to mytext, but only be particular to have all I say my own, and not make themistake of a minister whose sermon was a patchwork from a variety ofauthors, to whom he gave no credit. There was an intoxicated wag in theaudience who had read about everything, and he announced the authors asthe minister went on. The clergyman gave an extract without any creditto the author, and the man in the audience cried out: "That's JeremyTaylor. " The speaker went on and gave an extract from another authorwithout credit for it, and the man in the audience said: "That is JohnWesley. " The minister gave an extract from another without credit forit, and the man in the audience said: "That is George Whitefield. " Whenthe minister lost his patience and cried out, "Shut up, you old fool!"the man in the audience replied: "That is your own. "

Well, what about this Forefathers' Day? In Brooklyn they say theLanding of the Pilgrims was December the 21st; in New York you say itwas December the 22d. You are both right. Not through the specious andartful reasoning you have sometimes indulged in, but by a littlehistorical incident that seems to have escaped your attention. You see, the Forefathers landed in the morning of December the 21st, but aboutnoon that day a pack of hungry wolves swept down the bleak Americanbeach looking for a New England dinner and a band of savages out for atomahawk picnic hove in sight, and the Pilgrim Fathers thought it bestfor safety and warmth to go on board the Mayflower and pass the night. And during the night there came up a strong wind blowing off shore thatswept the Mayflower from its moorings clear out to sea, and there was aprospect that our Forefathers, having escaped oppression in foreignlands, would yet go down under an oceanic tempest. But the next daythey fortunately got control of their ship and steered her in, and thesecond time the Forefathers stepped ashore. 

Brooklyn celebrated the first landing; New York the second landing. SoI say Hail! Hail! to both celebrations, for one day, anyhow, could notdo justice to such a subject; and I only wish I could have kissed theblarney stone of America, which is Plymouth Rock, so that I might havedone justice to this subject. Ah, gentlemen, that Mayflower was the arkthat floated the deluge of oppression, and Plymouth Rock was the Araraton which it landed. 

But let me say that these Forefathers were of no more importance thanthe Foremothers. As I understand it, there were eight of them--that is, four fathers and four mothers--from whom all these illustrious NewEnglanders descended. 

Now I was not born in New England, but though not born in New England, in my boyhood I had a New England schoolmaster, whom I shall neverforget. He taught us our A, B, C's. "What is that?" "I don't know, sir. " "That's A" (with a slap). "What is that?" "I don't know, sir. "(With a slap)--"That is B. " I tell you, a boy that learned his lettersin that way never forgot them; and if the boy was particularly dull, then this New England schoolmaster would take him over his knee, andthen the boy got his information from both directions. 

But all these things aside, no one sitting at these tables has higheradmiration for the Pilgrim Fathers than I have--the men who believedin two great doctrines, which are the foundation of every religion thatis worth anything: namely, the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood ofMan--these men of backbone and endowed with that great and magnificentattribute of stick-to-it-iveness. 

CASSIUS AGAINST CĘSAR

From "Julius Cęsar"

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favor. Well, honor is the subject of my story. --I cannot tell what you and other menThink of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to beIn awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Cęsar; so were you:We both have fed as well; and we can bothEndure the winter's cold as well as he:For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Cęsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, nowLeap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet itWith lusty sinews, throwing it asideAnd stemming it with hearts of controversy;But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Cęsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!"I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulderThe old Anchises bear, so from the waves of TiberDid I the tired Cęsar. And this manIs now become a god; and Cassius isA wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Cęsar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And, when the fit was on him, I did markHow he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake:His coward lips did from their color fly;And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, Did lose his luster: I did hear him groan:Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the RomansMark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius, "As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze meA man of such a feeble temper shouldSo get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. 

II

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow worldLike a Colossus, and we petty menWalk under his huge legs and peep aboutTo find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates;The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Cęsar: what should be in that "Cęsar"?Why should that name be sounded more than yours?Write them together, yours is as fair a name;Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cęsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cęsar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was fam'd with more than with one man?When could they say till now, that talked of Rome, That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man. O, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brook'dThe eternal devil to keep his state in RomeAs easily as a king. 

THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH

From "The New South, " with the permission of Henry W. Grady Junior

BY HENRY W. GRADY

The New South is enamored of her new work. Her soul is stirred with thebreath of a new life. The light of a grander day is falling fair on herface. She is thrilling with the consciousness of growing power andprosperity. As she stands upright, full-statured and equal among thepeople of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking out upon theexpanding horizon, she understands that her emancipation came becausein the inscrutable wisdom of God her honest purpose was crossed and herbrave armies were beaten. 

This is said in no spirit of time-serving or apology. The South hasnothing for which to apologize. She believes that the late strugglebetween the States was war and not rebellion, revolution and notconspiracy, and that her convictions were as honest as yours. I shouldbe unjust to the dauntless spirit of the South and to my ownconvictions if I did not make this plain in this presence. The Southhas nothing to take back. In my native town of Athens is a monumentthat crowns its central hills--a plain, white shaft. Deep cut into itsshining side is a name dear to me above the names of men, that of abrave and simple man who died in brave and simple faith. Not for allthe glories of New England--from Plymouth Rock all the way--would Iexchange the heritage he left me in his soldier's death. To the foot ofthat shaft I shall send my children's children to reverence him whoennobled their name with his heroic blood. But, sir, speaking from theshadow of that memory, which I honor as I do nothing else on earth, Isay that the cause in which he suffered and for which he gave his lifewas adjudged by higher and fuller wisdom than his or mine, and I amglad that the omniscient God held the balance of battle in his Almightyhand, and that human slavery was swept forever from American soil--theAmerican Union saved from the wreck of war. 

This message, Mr. President, comes to you from consecrated ground. Every foot of the soil about the city in which I live is sacred as abattle ground of the Republic. Every hill that invests it is hallowedto you by the blood of your brothers, sacred soil to all of us, richwith memories that make us purer and stronger and better, speaking aneloquent witness in its white peace and prosperity to the indissolubleunion of American States and the imperishable brotherhood of theAmerican people. 

Now what answer has New England to this message? Will she permit theprejudices of war to remain in the hearts of the conquerors, when ithas died in the hearts of the conquered? Will she transmit thisprejudice to the next generation, that in their hearts, which neverfelt the generous ardor of conflict, it may perpetuate itself? Will shewithhold, save in strained courtesy, the hand which straight from hissoldier's heart Grant offered to Lee at Appomattox? Will she make thevision of a restored and happy people, which gathered above the couchof your dying captain, [Footnote: General Ulysses S. Grant. ] fillinghis heart with grace, touching his lips with praise and glorifying hispath to the grave; will she make this vision on which the last sigh ofhis expiring soul breathed a benediction, a cheat and a delusion? Ifshe does, the South, never abject in asking for comradeship, mustaccept with dignity a refusal; but if she does not, if she accepts infrankness and sincerity this message of good will and friendship, thenwill the prophecy of Webster, delivered in this very society fortyyears ago amid tremendous applause, be verified in its fullest andfinal sense, when he said: "Standing hand to hand and clasping hands, we should remain united as we have been for sixty years, citizens ofthe same country, members of the same government, united, all unitednow and united forever. There have been difficulties, contentions, andcontroversies, but I tell you that in my judgment, --

 "'Those opposed eyes, Which like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in th' intestine shock, Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way. '"

SOMETHING RANKLING HERE

From the reply to Hayne, in the United States Senate, January, 1830. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, Publishers of "The Great Speechesand Orations of Daniel Webster"

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

The gentleman, sir, in declining to postpone the debate, told theSenate, with the emphasis of his hand upon his heart, that there wassomething rankling _here_ which he wished to relieve. It wouldnot, Mr. President, be safe for the honorable member to appeal to thosearound him upon the question whether he did in fact make use of thatword. But he may have been unconscious of it. At any rate, it is enoughthat he disclaims it. But still, with or without the use of thatparticular word, he had yet something _here_, he said, of which hewished to rid himself by an immediate reply. In this respect, sir, Ihave a great advantage over the honorable gentleman. There is nothing_here_, sir, which gives me the slightest uneasiness; neitherfear, nor anger, nor that which is sometimes more troublesome thaneither, the consciousness of having been in the wrong. There isnothing, either originating _here_, or now received _here_ bythe gentleman's shot. Nothing originating here, for I had not theslightest feeling of unkindness towards the honorable member. Somepassages, it is true, had occurred since our acquaintance in this body, which I could have wished might have been otherwise; but I had usedphilosophy and forgotten them. I paid the honorable member theattention of listening with respect to his first speech; and when hesat down, though surprised, and I must even say astonished, at some ofhis opinions, nothing was farther from my intention than to commenceany personal warfare. Through the whole of the few remarks I made inanswer, I avoided, studiously and carefully, everything which I thoughtpossible to be construed into disrespect. And, sir, while there is thusnothing originating _here_ which I wished at any time or now wishto discharge, I must repeat also, that nothing has been received_here_ which _rankles_, or in any way gives me annoyance. Iwill not accuse the honorable member of violating the rules ofcivilized war; I will not say that he poisoned his arrows. But whetherhis shafts were or were not dipped in that which would have causedrankling if they had reached their destination, there was not, as ithappened, quite strength enough in the bow to bring them to their mark. If he wishes now to gather up those shafts, he must look for themelsewhere; they will not be found fixed and quivering in the object atwhich they were aimed. 

But the gentleman inquires why _he_ was made the object of such areply. Why was _he_ singled out? If an attack has been made on theEast, he, he assures us, did not begin it; it was made by the gentlemanfrom Missouri. Sir, I answered the gentleman's speech because Ihappened to hear it; and because, also, I chose to give an answer tothat speech, which, if unanswered, I thought most likely to produceinjurious impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the originaldrawer of the bill. I found a responsible indorser before me, and itwas my purpose to hold him liable, and to bring him to his justresponsibility, without delay. 

FAITH IN THE PEOPLE

BY JOHN BRIGHT

Our opponents have charged us with being the promoters of a dangerousexcitement. They have the effrontery to say that I am the friend ofpublic disorder. I am one of the people. Surely, if there be one thingin a free country more clear than another, it is, that any one of thepeople may speak openly to the people. If I speak to the people oftheir rights, and indicate to them the way to secure them, --if I speakof their danger to the monopolists of power, --am I not a wisecounsellor, both to the people and to their rulers?

Suppose I stood at the foot of Vesuvius, or Aetna, and, seeing a hamletor a homestead planted on its slope, I said to the dwellers in thathamlet, or in that homestead, "You see that vapor which ascends fromthe summit of the mountain. That vapor may become a dense, black smoke, that will obscure the sky. You see the trickling of lava from thecrevices in the side of the mountain. That trickling of lava may becomea river of fire. You hear that muttering in the bowels of the mountain. That muttering may become a bellowing thunder, the voice of violentconvulsion, that may shake half a continent. You know that at your feetis the grave of great cities, for which there is no resurrection, ashistories tell us that dynasties and aristocracies have passed away, and their names have been known no more forever. "

If I say this to the dwellers upon the slope of the mountain, and ifthere comes hereafter a catastrophe which makes the world to shudder, am I responsible for that catastrophe? I did not build the mountain, orfill it with explosive materials. I merely warned the men that were indanger. So, now, it is not I that am stimulating men to the violentpursuit of their acknowledged constitutional rights. 

The class which has hitherto ruled in this country has failedmiserably. It revels in power and wealth, whilst at its feet, aterrible peril for its future, lies the multitude which it hasneglected. If a class has failed, let us try the nation. 

That is our faith, that is our purpose, that is our cry. Let us try thenation. This it is which has called together these countless numbers ofthe people to demand a change; and from these gatherings, sublime intheir vastness and their resolution, I think I see, as it were, abovethe hilltops of time, the glimmerings of the dawn of a better and anobler day for the country and the people that I love so well. 

THE FRENCH AGAINST HAYTI

From a lecture, "Toussaint L'Ouverture, " with the permission ofLothrop, Lee and Shepard, Boston, publishers

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS

You remember when Bonaparte returned from Elba, and Louis XVIII sent anarmy against him, Bonaparte descended from his carriage, opened hiscoat, offering his breast to their muskets, and saying, "Frenchmen, itis the Emperor!" and they ranged themselves behind him, his soldiersshouting, "Vive l'Empereur!" That was in 1815. Twelve years before, Toussaint, finding that four of his regiments had deserted and gone toLeclerc, drew his sword, flung it on the grass, went across the fieldto them, folded his arms, and said, "Children, can you point a bayonetat me?" The blacks fell on their knees, praying his pardon. It wasagainst such a man that Napoleon sent his army, giving to GeneralLeclerc, the husband of his beautiful sister Pauline, thirty thousandof his best troops, with orders to reintroduce slavery. Among thesesoldiers came all of Toussaint's old mulatto rivals and foes. 

Holland lent sixty ships. England promised by special message to beneutral; and you know neutrality means sneering at freedom, and sendingarms to tyrants. England promised neutrality, and the black looked outon the whole civilized world marshaled against him. America, full ofslaves, of course was hostile. Only the Yankee sold him poor muskets ata very high price. Mounting his horse, and riding to the eastern end ofthe island, Samana, he looked out on a sight such as no native had everseen before. Sixty ships of the line, crowded by the best soldiers ofEurope, rounded the point. They were soldiers who had never yet met anequal, whose tread, like Cęsar's, had shaken Europe, --soldiers who hadscaled the Pyramids, and planted the French banners on the Walls ofRome. He looked a moment, counted the flotilla, let the reins fall onthe neck of his horse, and turning to Christophe, exclaimed: "AllFrance is come to Hayti; they can only come to make us slaves; and weare lost!" He then recognized the only mistake of his life, --hisconfidence in Bonaparte, which had led him to disband his army. 

Returning to the hills, he issued the only proclamation which bears hisname and breathes vengeance: "My children, France comes to make usslaves. God gave us liberty; France has no right to take it away. Burnthe cities, destroy the harvests, tear up the roads with cannon, poisonthe wells, show the white man the hell he comes to make";--and he wasobeyed. When the great William of Orange saw Louis XIV cover Hollandwith troops, he said, "Break down the dikes, give Holland back toocean"; and Europe said, "Sublime!" When Alexander saw the armies ofFrance descend upon Russia, he said, "Burn Moscow, starve back theinvaders"; and Europe said, "Sublime!" This black saw all Europemarshaled to crush him, and gave to his people the same heroic exampleof defiance. 

THE NECESSITY OF FORCE

From a speech in the United States Senate, March 24, 1898

BY JOHN M. THURSTON

I counseled silence and moderation from this floor when the passion ofthe nation seemed at white heat over the destruction of the_Maine_; but it seems to me the time for action has now come. Nogreater reason for it can exist to-morrow than exists to-day. Everyhour's delay only adds another chapter to the awful story of misery anddeath. Only one power can intervene--the United States of America. Oursis the one great nation of the New World, the mother of Americanrepublics. She holds a position of trust and responsibility toward thepeoples and affairs of the whole Western Hemisphere. It was herglorious example which inspired the patriots of Cuba to raise the flagof liberty in her eternal hills. We cannot refuse to accept thisresponsibility which the God of the universe has placed upon us as theone great power in the New World. We must act! What shall our actionbe? Some say, The acknowledgment of the belligerency of therevolutionists. The hour and the opportunity for that have passed away. Others say, Let us by resolution or official proclamation recognize theindependence of the Cubans. It is too late for even such recognition tobe of great avail. Others say, Annexation to the United States. Godforbid! I would oppose annexation with my latest breath. The people ofCuba are not our people; they cannot assimilate with us; and beyond allthat, I am utterly and unalterably opposed to any departure from thedeclared policy of the fathers, which would start this republic for thefirst time upon a career of conquest and dominion utterly at variancewith the avowed purposes and the manifest destiny of populargovernment. 

There is only one action possible, if any is taken; that is, intervention for the independence of the island. We cannot interveneand save Cuba without the exercise of force, and force means war; warmeans blood. The lowly Nazarene on the shores of Galilee preached thedivine doctrine of love, "Peace on earth, good will toward men. " Notpeace on earth at the expense of liberty and humanity. Not good willtoward men who despoil, enslave, degrade, and starve to death theirfellow-men. I believe in the doctrine of Christ. I believe in thedoctrine of peace; but men must have liberty before there can comeabiding peace. When has a battle for humanity and liberty ever been wonexcept by force? What barricade of wrong, injustice, and oppression hasever been carried except by force?

Force compelled the signature of unwilling royalty to the great MagnaCharta; force put life into the Declaration of Independence and madeeffective the Emancipation Proclamation; force waved the flag ofrevolution over Bunker Hill and marked the snows of Valley Forge withbloodstained feet; force held the broken line of Shiloh, climbed theflame-swept hill at Chattanooga, and stormed the clouds on LookoutHeights; force marched with Sherman to the sea, rode with Sheridan inthe Valley of the Shenandoah, and gave Grant victory at Appomattox;force saved the Union, kept the stars in the flag, made "niggers" men. The time for God's force has come again. Let the impassioned lips ofAmerican patriots once more take up the song:--

 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigured you and me. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, For God is marching on. 

Others may hesitate, others may procrastinate, others may plead forfurther diplomatic negotiation, which means delay, but for me, I amready to act now, and for my action, I am ready to answer to myconscience, my country, and my God. 

AGAINST WAR WITH MEXICO

From a speech to the United States Senate, February 11, 1847

BY THOMAS CORWIN

The President has said he does not expect to hold Mexican territory byconquest. Why, then, conquer it? Why waste thousands of lives andmillions of money fortifying towns and creating governments, if, at theend of the war, you retire from the graves of your soldiers and thedesolated country of your foes, only to get money from Mexico for theexpense of all your toil and sacrifice? Who ever heard, sinceChristianity was propagated among men, of a nation taxing its people, enlisting its young men, and marching off two thousand miles to fight apeople merely to be paid for it in money? What is this but hunting amarket for blood, selling the lives of your young men, marching them inregiments to be slaughtered and paid for like oxen and brute beasts?

Sir, this is, when stripped naked, that atrocious idea firstpromulgated in the President's message, and now advocated here, offighting on till we can get our indemnity for the past as well as thepresent slaughter. We have chastised Mexico, and if it were worth whileto do so, we have, I dare say, satisfied the world that we can fight. 

Sir, I have read in some account of your Battle of Monterey, of alovely Mexican girl, who, with the benevolence of an angel in her bosomand the robust courage of a hero in her heart, was busily engagedduring the bloody conflict, amid the crash of falling houses, thegroans of the dying, and the wild shriek of battle, in carrying waterto slake the burning thirst of the wounded of either host. Whilebending over a wounded American soldier, a cannonball struck her andblew her to atoms! Sir, I do not charge my brave, generous-heartedcountrymen who fought that fight with this. No, no! We who send them--we who know what scenes like this, which might send tears of sorrow"down Pluto's iron cheek, " are the invariable, inevitable attendants onwar--we are accountable for this. And this--this is the way we are tobe made known to Europe. This--this is to be the undying renown offree, republican America! "She has stormed a city--killed many of itsinhabitants of both sexes--she has room"! So it will read. Sir, if thiswere our only history, then may God of His mercy grant that its volumemay speedily come to a close. 

Why is it, sir, that we, the United States, a people of yesterdaycompared with the older nations of the world, should be waging war forterritory--for "room?" Look at your country, extending from theAlleghany Mountains to the Pacific Ocean, capable itself of sustainingin comfort a larger population than will be in the whole Union for onehundred years to come. Over this vast expanse of territory yourpopulation is now so sparse that I believe we provided, at the lastsession, a regiment of mounted men to guard the mail from the frontierof Missouri to the mouth of the Columbia; and yet you persist in theridiculous assertion, "I want room. " One would imagine, from thefrequent reiteration of the complaint, that you had a bursting, teemingpopulation, whose energy was paralyzed, whose enterprise was crushed, for want of space. Why should we be so weak or wicked as to offer thisidle apology for ravaging a neighboring Republic? It will impose on noone at home or abroad. 

Do we not know, Mr. President, that it is a law never to be repealedthat falsehood shall be short-lived? Was it not ordained of old thattruth only shall abide for ever? Whatever we may say to-day, orwhatever we may write in our books, the stern tribunal of history willreview it all, detect falsehood, and bring us to judgment before thatposterity which shall bless or curse us, as we may act now, wisely orotherwise. We may hide in the grave (which awaits us all) in vain; wemay hope there, like the foolish bird that hides its head in the sand, in the vain belief that its body is not seen; yet even there thispreposterous excuse of want of "room" shall be laid bare and the quick-coming future will decide that it was a hypocritical pretense underwhich we sought to conceal the avarice which prompted us to covet andto seize by force that which was not ours. 

THE MURDER OF LOVEJOY

From "Speeches and Lectures, " with the permission of Lothrop, Lee andShepard, Boston, publishers. 

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS

Mr. Chairman: We have met for the freest discussion of theseresolutions, and the events which gave rise to them. I hope I shall bepermitted to express my surprise at the sentiments of the lastspeaker, --surprise not only at such sentiments from such a man, but atthe applause they have received within these walls. A comparison hasbeen drawn between the events of the Revolution and the tragedy atAlton. We have heard it asserted here, in Faneuil Hall, that GreatBritain had a right to tax the Colonies, and we have heard the mob atAlton, the drunken murderers of Lovejoy, compared to those patriotfathers who threw the tea overboard! Fellow citizens, is this FaneuilHall doctrine? The mob at Alton were met to wrest from a citizen hisjust rights, --met to resist the laws. We have been told that ourfathers did the same; and the glorious mantle of Revolutionaryprecedent has been thrown over the mobs of our day. To make out theirtitle to such defense, the gentleman says that the British Parliamenthad a _right_ to tax these colonies. It is manifest that, withoutthis, his parallel falls to the ground; for Lovejoy had stationedhimself within constitutional bulwarks. He was not only defending thefreedom of the press, but he was under his own roof, in arms with thesanction of the civil authority. The men who assailed him went againstand over the laws. The _mob_, as the gentleman terms it, --mob, forsooth! certainly we sons of the tea-spillers are a marvelouslypatient generation!--the "orderly mob" which assembled in the Old Southto destroy the tea were met to resist, not the laws, but illegalexactions. Shame on the American who calls the tea tax and stamp act_laws!_ Our fathers resisted, not the King's prerogative, but theKing's usurpation. To find any other account, you must read ourRevolutionary history upside down. Our state archives are loaded witharguments of John Adams to prove the taxes laid by the BritishParliament unconstitutional, --beyond its power. It was not till thiswas made out that the men of New England rushed to arms. The argumentsof the Council Chamber and the House of Representatives preceded andsanctioned the contest. To draw the conduct of our ancestors into aprecedent for mobs, for a right to resist laws we ourselves haveenacted, is an insult to their memory. The difference between theexcitements of those days and our own, which the gentleman in kindnessto the latter has overlooked, is simply this: the man of that day wentfor the right, as secured by the laws. They were the people rising tosustain the laws and constitution of the Province. The rioters of ourday go for their own wills, right or wrong. Sir, when I heard thegentleman lay down principles which place the murderers of Alton sideby side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams, I thought thosepictured lips [pointing to the portraits in the Hall] would have brokeninto voice to rebuke the recreant American, --the slanderer of the dead. The gentleman said that he should sink into insignificance if he daredto gainsay the principles of these resolutions. Sir, for the sentimentshe has uttered, on soil consecrated by the prayers of Puritans and theblood of patriots, the earth should have yawned and swallowed him up. 

I am glad, Sir, to see this crowded house. It is good for us to behere. When Liberty is in danger, Faneuil Hall has the right, it is herduty, to strike the keynote for these United States. 

DEPICTING CHARACTER

A TALE OF THE PLAINS

From "Hunting the Grizzly, " with the permission of G. P. Putnam'sSons, New York and London, publishers. 

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

One of my valued friends in the mountains, and one of the best hunterswith whom I ever traveled, was a man who had a peculiarly light-heartedway of looking at conventional social obligations. Though in some waysa true backwoods Donatello, he was a man of much shrewdness and ofgreat courage and resolution. Moreover, he possessed what only a fewmen do possess, the capacity to tell the truth. He saw facts as theywere, and could tell them as they were, and he never told an untruthunless for very weighty reasons. He was preeminently a philosopher, ofa happy, skeptical turn of mind. He had no prejudices. 

On one occasion when we were out together we killed a bear, and afterskinning it, took a bath in a lake. I noticed he had a scar on the sideof his foot, and asked him how he got it, to which he responded, withindifference:--

"Oh, that? Why, a man shoo tin' at me to make me dance, that was all. "

I expressed some curiosity in the matter, and he went on:

"Well, the way of it was this: It was when I was keeping a saloon inNew Mexico, and there was a man there by the name of Fowler, and therewas a reward on him of three thousand dollars--"

"Put on him by the State?"

"No, put on by his wife, " said my friend; "and there was this--"

"Hold on, " I interrupted; "put on by his wife, did you say?"

"Yes, by his wife. Him and her had been keepin' a faro bank, you see, and they quarreled about it, so she just put a reward on him, and so--"

"Excuse me, " I said, "but do you mean to say that this reward was puton publicly?" to which my friend answered with an air of gentlemanlyboredom at being interrupted to gratify my thirst for irrelevantdetail:--

"Oh, no, not publicly. She just mentioned it to six or eight intimatepersonal friends. "

"Go on, " I responded, somewhat overcome by this instance of theprimitive simplicity with which New Mexican matrimonial disputes weremanaged, and he continued:--

"Well, two men come ridin' in to see me to borrow my guns. My guns wasColt's self-cockers. It was a new thing then, and they was the onlyones in town. These come to me, and 'Simpson, ' says they, 'we want toborrow your guns; we are goin' to kill Fowler. '

"'Hold on for a moment, ' said I, 'I am willin' to lend you them guns, but I ain't goin' to know what you'r' goin' to do with them, no, sir;but of course you can have the guns. '" Here my friend's face lightenedpleasantly, and he continued:--

"Well, you may easily believe I felt surprised next day when Fowlercome ridin' in, and, says he, 'Simpson, here's your guns!' He had shotthem two men! 'Well, Fowler, ' says I, 'if I had known them men wasafter you, I'd never have let them have the guns nohow, ' says I. Thatwasn't true, for I did know it, but there was no cause to tell himthat. "

I murmured my approval of such prudence, and Simpson continued, hiseyes gradually brightening with the light of agreeable reminiscence:--

"Well, they up and they took Fowler before the justice of peace. Thejustice of the peace was a Turk. "

"Now, Simpson, what do you mean by that?" I interrupted. 

"Well, he come from Turkey, " said Simpson, and I again sank back, wondering briefly what particular variety of Mediterranean outcast haddrifted down to Mexico to be made a justice of the peace. Simpsonlaughed and continued: "That Fowler was a funny fellow. The Turk, hecommitted Fowler, and Fowler, he riz up and knocked him down andtromped all over him and made him let him go!"

"That was an appeal to a higher law, " I observed. Simpson assentedcheerily, and continued:--

"Well, that Turk, he got nervous for fear Fowler was goin' to kill him, and so he comes to me and offers me twenty-five dollars a day toprotect him from Fowler; and I went to Fowler, and 'Fowler, ' says I, 'that Turk's offered me twenty-five dollars a day to protect him fromyou. Now, I ain't goin' to get shot for no twenty-five dollars a day, and if you are goin' to kill the Turk, just say so and go and do it;but if you ain't goin' to kill the Turk, there's no reason why Ishouldn't earn that twenty-five dollars a day!' and Fowler, says he, 'Iain't goin' to touch the Turk; you just go right ahead and protecthim. '"

So Simpson "protected" the Turk from the imaginary danger of Fowler, for about a week, at twenty-five dollars a day. 

Then one evening he happened to go out and meet Fowler, "and, " said he, "the moment I saw him I know he felt mean, for he begun to shoot at myfeet, " which certainly did seem to offer presumptive evidence ofmeanness. Simpson continued:--

"I didn't have no gun, so I just had to stand there and take it untilsomething distracted his attention, and I went off home to get my gunand kill him, but I wanted to do it perfectly lawful; so I went up tothe mayor (he was playin' poker with one of the judges), and says I tohim, 'Mr. Mayor, ' says I, 'I am goin' to shoot Fowler. ' And the mayorhe riz out of his chair and he took me by the hand, and says he, 'Mr. Simpson, if you do I will stand by you'; and the judge he says, 'I'llgo on your bond. '"

Fortified by this cordial approval of the executive and judicialbranches of the government, Mr. Simpson started on his quest. Meanwhile, however, Fowler had cut up another prominent citizen, andthey already had him in jail. The friends of law and order, feelingsome little distrust as to the permanency of their own zeal forrighteousness, thought it best to settle the matter before there wastime for cooling, and accordingly, headed by Simpson, the mayor, thejudge, the Turk, and other prominent citizens of the town, they brokeinto the jail and hanged Fowler. The point in the hanging whichespecially tickled my friend's fancy as he lingered over thereminiscence was one that was rather too ghastly to appeal to our ownsense of humor. In the Turk's mind there still rankled the memory ofFowler's very unprofessional conduct while figuring before him as acriminal. Said Simpson, with a merry twinkle of the eye: "Do you know, that Turk, he was a right funny fellow too after all. Just as the boyswere going to string up Fowler, says he, 'Boys, stop; one moment, gentlemen, --Mr. Fowler, good-by, ' and he blew a kiss to him!"

GUNGA DIN

From "Departmental Ditties, " with the permission of A. P. Watt andSon, London, and Doubleday, Page and Company, New York. 

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

 You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. Now in Injia's sunny clime, Where I used to spend my timeA-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, Of all them blackfaced crew The finest man I knewWas our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was "Din! Din! Din!You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! Hi! slippery hitherao! Water, get it! Panee lao! [Footnote: Bring water swiftly. ]You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din. "

 The uniform 'e wore Was nothin' much before, An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, For a piece o' twisty rag An' a goatskin water-bagWas all the field-equipment 'e could find. When the sweatin' troop-train lay In a sidin' through the day, Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, We shouted "Harry By!" [Footnote: O Brother] Till our throats were bricky-dry, Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. It was "Din! Din! Din! You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? You put some juldee in it Or I'll marrow you this minute, [Footnote: Hit you]If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

 'E would dot an' carry one Till the longest day was done;An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. If we charged or broke or cut, You could bet your bloomin' nut, 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. With 'is mussick [Footnote: Water skin] on 'is back, 'E would skip with our attack, An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire, " An' for all 'is dirty 'ide 'E was white, clear white, insideWhen 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! It was "Din! Din! Din!"With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. When the cartridges ran out, You could hear the front-files shout, "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

 I sha'n't forgit the night When I dropped be'ind the fightWith a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. I was chokin' mad with thirst, An' the man that spied me firstWas our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. 'E lifted up my 'ead, An' he plugged me where I bled, An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: It was crawlin' and it stunk, But of all the drinks I've drunk, I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. It was "Din! Din! Din!"'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; 'E's chawin' up the ground, An' 'e's kickin' all around:"For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

 'E carried me away To where a dooli lay, An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. 'E put me safe inside, An' just before 'e died:"I 'ope you liked your drink, " sez Gunga Din. So I'll meet 'im later on At the place where 'e is gone--Where it's always double drill and no canteen; 'E'll be squattin' on the coals, Givin' drink to poor damned souls, An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! Yes, Din! Din! Din!You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the living Gawd that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

ADDRESS OF SERGEANT BUZFUZ

From "The Pickwick Papers"

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Sergeant Buzfuz rose with all the majesty and dignity which the gravenature of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered to Dodson, andconferred briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over his shoulders, settled his wig, and addressed the jury. 

Sergeant Buzfuz began by saying that never, in the whole course of hisprofessional experience, --never, from the very first moment of hisapplying himself to the study and practice of the law, had heapproached a case with such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposedupon him, --a responsibility he could never have supported, were he notbuoyed up and sustained by a conviction, so strong that it amounted topositive certainty, that the cause of truth and justice, or, in otherwords, the cause of his much-injured and most oppressed client, _must_ prevail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of menwhom he now saw in that box before him. 

Counsel always begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the bestterms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp fellows theymust be. A visible effect was produced immediately; several jurymenbeginning to take voluminous notes. 

"The plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and confidence ofhis sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal revenues, glidedalmost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere for that reposeand peace which a custom-house can never afford. "

This was a pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who hadbeen knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar. 

"Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents but fewattractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness andof systematic villainy. "

Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence, gave a violentstart, as if some vague idea of assaulting Sergeant Buzfuz, in theaugust presence of justice and law, suggested itself to his mind. 

"I say systematic villainy, gentlemen, " said Sergeant Buzfuz, lookingthrough Mr. Pickwick, and talking _at_ him, "and when I saysystematic villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, --if he be incourt, as I am informed he is, --that it would have been more decent inhim, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he hadstopped away. 

"I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued toreside without interruption or intermission at Mrs. Bardell's house. Ishall show you that, on many occasions, he gave halfpence, and on someoccasions even sixpences, to her little boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it will be impossible for my learnedfriend to weaken or controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boyon the head, and, after inquiring whether he had won any _alleytors_ or _commoneys_ lately (both of which I understand to be aparticular species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use of this remarkable expression: 'How should you like to haveanother father?' I shall prove to you, gentlemen, on the testimony ofthree of his own friends, --most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen, --mostunwilling witnesses, --that on that morning he was discovered by themholding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by hiscaresses and endearments. 

"And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed betweenthese parties, --letters which are admitted to be in the handwriting ofthe defendant. Let me read the first:--'Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B. --Chops and Tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick. ' Gentlemen, whatdoes this mean? Chops! Gracious heavens! and Tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled awayby such shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. 'Dear Mrs. B. , I shall not be at hometill to-morrow. Slow coach. ' And then follows this very remarkableexpression. 'Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan. ' Why, gentlemen, who _does_ trouble himself about a warming-pan? Why isMrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about thiswarming-pan, unless it is, as I assert it to be, a mere cover forhidden fire, --a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfullycontrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion, andwhich I am not in a condition to explain?

"Enough of this. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined. ButPickwick, gentlemen, --Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domesticoasis in the desert of Goswell Street, --Pickwick, who has choked up thewell, and thrown ashes on the sward, --Pickwick, who comes before youto-day with his heartless Tomato sauce and warming-pans, --Pickwickstill rears his head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without asigh on the ruin he has made. Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, arethe only punishment with which you can visit him, the only recompenseyou can award to my client. And for those damages she now appeals to anenlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, adispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her civilizedcountrymen. "

A NATURAL PHILOSOPHER

BY MACCABE

Ladies and Gentlemen: I see so many foine-lookin' people sittin' beforeme that if you'll excuse me I'll be after takin' a seat meself. Youdon't know me, I'm thinking, as some of yees 'ud be noddin' to me aforethis. I'm a walkin' pedestrian, a travelin' philosopher. TerryO'Mulligan's me name. I'm from Dublin, where many philosophers beforeme was raised and bred. Oh, philosophy is a foine study! I don't knowanything about it, but it's a foine study! Before I kirn over Iattended an important meetin' of philosophers in Dublin, and thediscussin' and talkin' you'd hear there about the world 'ud warm thevery heart of Socrates or Aristotle himself. Well, there was a greatmany _imminent_ and learned _min_ there at the meetin', and Iwas there too, and while we was in the very thickest of a heatedargument, one comes to me and says he, "Do you know what we're talkin'about?" "I do, " says I, "but I don't understand yees. " "Could yeexplain the sun's motion around the earth?" says he. "I could, " says I, "but I'd not know could you understand or not. " "Well, " says he, "we'llsee, " says he. Sure'n I didn't know anything, how to get out of itthen, so I piled in, "for, " says I to myself, "never let on to any onethat you don't know anything, but make them believe that you do knowall about it. " So says I to him, takin' up me shillalah this way(holding a very crooked stick perpendicular), "We'll take that for thestraight line of the earth's equator"--how's that for gehography? (tothe audience). Ah, that was straight till the other day I bent it in anargument. "Wery good, " says he. "Well, " says I, "now the sun rises inthe east" (placing the disengaged hand at the eastern end of thestick). Well, he couldn't deny that. "And when he gets up he

 Darts his rosy beams Through the mornin' gleams. "

Do you moind the poetry there? (to the audience with a smile). "And hekeeps on risin' and risin' till he reaches his meriden. " "What's that?"says he. "His dinner-toime, " says I; "sure'n that's my Latin fordinner-toime, and when he gets his dinner

 He sinks to rest Behind the glorious hills of the west. "

Oh, begorra, there's more poetry! I fail it creepin' out all over me. "There, " says I, well satisfied with myself, "will that do for ye?""You haven't got done with him yet, " says he. "Done with him, " says I, kinder mad like; "what more do you want me to do with him? Didn't Ibring him from the east to the west? What more do you want?" "Oh, " sayshe, "you'll have to bring him back again to the east to rise nextmornin'. " By Saint Patrick! and wasn't I near betrayin' me ignorance, Sure'n I thought there was a large family of suns, and they rise oneafter the other. But I gathered meself quick, and, says I to him, "Well, " says I, "I'm surprised you axed me that simple question. Ithought any man 'ud know, " says I, "when the sun sinks to rest in thewest--when the sun--" says I. "You said that before, " says he. "Well, Iwant to press it stronger upon you, " says I. "When the sun sinks torest in the east--no--west, why he--why he waits till it grows dark, and then he goes _back in the noight toime_!"

RESPONSE TO A TOAST

From "A Charity Dinner"

BY LITCHFIELD MOSELEY

"Milors and Gentlemans!" commences the Frenchman, elevating hiseyebrows and shrugging his shoulders. "Milors and Gentlemans--Youexcellent chairman, M. Le Baron de Mount-Stuart, he have say to me, 'Make de toast. ' Den I say to him dat I have no toast to make; but henudge my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast dat nobody butvon Frenchman can make proper; and, derefore, wid your kind permission, I vill make de toast. 'De brevete is de sole of de feet, ' as you greatphilosophere, Dr. Johnson, do say, in dat amusing little vork of his, de Pronouncing Dictionnaire; and, derefore, I vill not say ver moch tode point. Ven I vas a boy, about so moch tall, and used for topromenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, vid no feet to put ontomy shoe, I nevare to have expose dat dis day vould to have arrive. Ivas to begin de vorld as von garēon--or, vat you call in dis countrie, von vaitaire in a café--vere I vork ver hard, vid no habillemens at allto put onto myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old blueblouse vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep myselffit to be showed at; but, tank goodness, tings dey have change ver mochfor me since dat time, and I have rose myself, seulement par monindustrie et perseverance. Ah! mes amis! ven I hear to myself deflowing speech, de oration magnifique of you Lor' Maire, MonsieurGobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von étrangé to sitat de same table, and to eat de same food, as dat grand, dat majestiqueman, who are de terreur of de voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis;and who is also, I for to suppose, a halterman and de chef of youcommon scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire tono greatare honneur dan to be von common scoundrelman myself; but, hélas! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are not freeman of your greatcité, not von liveryman servant of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must not forget de toast. Milors and Gentlemans! De immortalShakispeare he have write, 'De ting of beauty are de joy fornevermore. ' It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is more entrancingdan de charmante smile, de soft voice, der vinking eye of de beautifullady! It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladieswho are de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheerbut not inebriate, and, derefore, vid all homage to de dear sex, detoast dat I have to propose is, "De Ladies! God bless dem all!"

PARTRIDGE AT THE PLAY

From "Tom Jones"

BY HENRY FIELDING

In the first row of the first gallery did Mr. Jones, Mrs. Miller, heryoungest daughter, and Partridge, take their places. Partridgeimmediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. Whenthe first music was played, he said, "It was a wonder how so manyfiddlers could play at one time, without putting one another out. "While the fellow was lighting the upper candles, he cried out to Mrs. Miller, "Look, look, madam, the very picture of the man in the end ofthe common-prayer book before the gunpowder-treason service. " Nor couldhe help observing, with a sigh, when all the candles were lighted, "That here were candles enough burnt in one night, to keep an honestpoor family for a whole twelvemonth. "

As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence till the entranceof the ghost; upon which he asked Jones, "What man that was in thestrange dress; something, " said he, "like what I have seen in apicture. Sure it is not armor, is it?" Jones answered, "That is theghost. " To which Partridge replied with a smile, "Persuade me to that, sir, if you can. ... No, no, sir, ghosts don't appear in such dressesas that, neither. " In this mistake, which caused much laughter in theneighborhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue, till the scenebetween the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave that credit to Mr. Garrick, which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent atrembling, that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked himwhat was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior upon thestage? "O la! sir, " said he, "I perceive now it is what you told me. ... Nay, you may call me coward if you will; but if that little manthere upon the stage is not frightened, I never saw any man frightenedin my life. Ay, ay: go along with you: Ay, to be sure! Who's fool then?Will you? Lud have mercy upon such foolhardiness!--Whatever happens, it is good enough for you. --Follow you? I'd follow the devil as soon. Nay, perhaps it is the devil--for they say he can put on what likenesshe pleases. --Oh! here he is again. --No farther! No, you have gone farenough already; farther than I'd have gone for all the king'sdominions. " Jones offered to speak, but Partridge cried, "Hush, hush!dear sir, don't you hear him?" And during the whole speech of theghost, he sat with his eyes fixed partly on the ghost and partly onHamlet, and with his mouth open; the same passions which succeeded eachother in Hamlet, succeeding likewise in him. 

During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. He greatlyadmired the fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observing uponthe king's countenance. "Well, " said he, "how people may be deceived byfaces! _Nulla fides fronti_ is, I find, a true saying. Who wouldthink, by looking into the king's face, that he had ever committed amurder?" He then inquired after the ghost; but Jones, who intended heshould be surprised, gave him no other satisfaction than "that he mightpossibly see him again soon, and in a flash of fire. "

Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and now, when the ghostmade his next appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now; whatsay you now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened as youthink me, and, to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would not bein so bad a condition as what's his name, squire Hamlet, is there, forall the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit! As I am a livingsoul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth. " "Indeed, you sawright, " answered Jones, "Well, well, " cries Partridge, "I know it isonly a play: and besides, if there was any thing in all this, MadamMiller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would not be afraid, I believe, if the devil was here in person. --There, there--Aye, nowonder you are in such a passion; shake the vile wicked wretch topieces. If she was my own mother, I would serve her so. To be sure allduty to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings. --Aye, go aboutyour business, I hate the sight of you. "

Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, at the end ofwhich Jones asked him which of the players he had liked best? To thishe answered, with some appearance of indignation at the question, "Theking, without doubt. " "Indeed, Mr. Partridge, " says Mrs. Miller, "youare not of the same opinion with the town; for they are all agreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on the stage. " "Hethe best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemptuous sneer, "why, Icould act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I had seen a ghost, Ishould have looked in the very same manner, and done just as ne did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him andhis mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why, Lord help me, anyman, that is, any good man, that had such a mother, would have doneexactly the same. I know you are only joking with me; but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I have seen actingbefore in the country; and the king for my money; he speaks all hiswords distinctly, half as loud again as the other. --Anybody may see heis an actor. "

A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT

BY ROBERT BURNS

Is there for honest poverty That hings his head, an' a' that?The coward slave, we pass him by-- We dare be poor for a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Our toils obscure, an' a' that, The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd [Footnote: gold] for a' that!

What tho' on hamely [Footnote: homely, plain] fare we dine, Wear hoddin [Footnote: homespun] gray, an' a' that;Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine-- A man's a man, for a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Their tinsel show, an' a' that, The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie [Footnote: fellow], ca'd a lord, Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;Tho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof [Footnote: fool (pronounce like German _o_ or _oe_)] for a' that;For a' that, an' a' that, His riband, star, an' a' that;The man of independent mind, He looks an' laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, an' a' that;But an honest man's aboon [Footnote: above] his might-- Gude faith, he maunna fa' [Footnote: must not claim (to make the honest man)] that!For a' that, an' a' that, Their dignities, an' a' that, The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense an' worth, o'er a' the earth, Shall bear the gree, [Footnote: prize] an' a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, It's comin' yet, for a' that--That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that. 

ARTEMUS WARD'S LECTURE

From "Complete Works of Artemus Ward" with the permission of theG. W. Dillingham Company, New York, publishers. 

BY CHARLES FARRAR BROWN (ARTEMUS WARD)

I don't expect to do great things here--but I have thought that if Icould make money enough to buy me a passage to New Zealand I shouldfeel that I had not lived in vain. I don't want to live in vain. I'drather live in Texas--or here. 

If you should be dissatisfied with anything here to-night--I willadmit you all free in New Zealand--if you will come to me there for theorders. Any respectable cannibal will tell you where I live. This showsthat I have a forgiving spirit. 

I really don't care for money. I only travel round to see the world andto exhibit my clothes. These clothes I have on have been a greatsuccess in America. 

How often do large fortunes ruin young men! I should like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am. 

I am not an Artist. I don't paint myself--though perhaps if I were amiddle-aged single lady I should--yet I have a passion for pictures. --Ihave had a great many pictures--photographs--taken of myself. Some ofthem are very pretty--rather sweet to look at for a short time--and asI said before, I like them. I've always loved pictures. I could draw onwood at a very tender age. When a mere child I once drew a smallcartload of raw turnips over a wooden bridge. --The people of thevillage noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a futurebefore me. Up to that time I had an idea it was behind me. 

Time passed on. It always does, by the way. You may possibly havenoticed that Time passes on. --It is a kind of way Time has. 

I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself at all as an artist--butI have always been more or less mixed up with art. I have an uncle whotakes photographs--and I have a servant who--takes anything he can gethis hands on. 

When I was in Rome--Rome in New York State, I mean--a distinguishedsculpist wanted to sculp me. But I said "No. " I saw through thedesigning man. My model once in his hands--he would have flooded themarket with my busts--and I couldn't stand it to see everybody goinground with a bust of me. Everybody would want one of course--andwherever I should go I should meet the educated classes with my bust, taking it home to their families. This would be more than my modestycould stand--and I should have to return home--where my creditors are. 

I like art. I admire dramatic art--although I failed as an actor. 

It was in my schoolboy days that I failed as an actor. --The play was"The Ruins of Pompeii. "--I played the ruins. It was not a verysuccessful performance--but it was better than the "Burning Mountain. "He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius. 

The remembrance often makes me ask--"Where are the boys of my youth?" Iassure you this is not a conundrum. Some are amongst you here--some inAmerica--some are in jail. 

Hence arises a most touching question--"Where are the girls of myyouth?" Some are married--some would like to be. 

Oh, my Maria! Alas! she married another. They frequently do. I hope sheis happy--because I am. --Some people are not happy. I have noticedthat. 

A gentleman friend of mine came to me one day with tears in his eyes. Isaid, "Why these weeps?" He said he had a mortgage on his farm--andwanted to borrow $200. I lent him the money--and he went away. Sometime afterward he returned with more tears. He said he must leave meforever. I ventured to remind him of the $200 he borrowed. He was muchcut up. I thought I would not be hard upon him--so told him I wouldthrow off $100. He brightened--shook my hand--and said, --"Old friend--I won't allow you to outdo me in liberality--I'll throw off the otherhundred. "

I like Music. --I can't sing. As a singist I am not a success. I amsaddest when I sing. So are those who hear me. They are sadder eventhan I am. 

I met a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth--not a tooth in his head--yet that man could play on the bass drum better than any man I evermet. He kept a hotel. They have queer hotels in Oregon. I remember onewhere they gave me a bag of oats for a pillow--I had nightmares ofcourse. In the morning the landlord said, --"How do you feel--old hoss--hay?"--I told him I felt my oats. 

As a manager I was always rather more successful than as an actor. 

Some years ago I engaged a celebrated Living American Skeleton for atour through Australia. He was the thinnest man I ever saw. He was asplendid skeleton. He didn't weigh anything scarcely--and I said tomyself--the people of Australia will flock to see this tremendous cu-riosity. It is a long voyage--as you know--from New York to Melbourne--and to my utter surprise the skeleton had no sooner got out to sea thanhe commenced eating in the most horrible manner. He had never been onthe ocean before--and he said it agreed with him--I thought so!--Inever saw a man eat so much in my life. Beef, mutton, pork--heswallowed them all like a shark--and between meals he was oftendiscovered behind barrels eating hard-boiled eggs. The result was that, when we reached Melbourne, this infamous skeleton weighed sixty-fourpounds more than I did!

I thought I was ruined--but I wasn't. I took him on to California--another very long sea voyage--and when I got him to San Francisco Iexhibited him as a fat man. 

This story hasn't anything to do with my entertainment, I know--but oneof the principal features of my entertainment is that it contains somany things that don't have anything to do with it. 

JIM BLUDSO, OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton MifflinCompany, authorized publishers of this author's work. 

BY JOHN HAY

Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Because he don't live, you see;Leastways, he's got out of the habitOf livin' like you and me. Whar have you been for the last three yearThat you haven't heard folks tellHow Jimmy Bludso passed in his checksThe night of the "Prairie Belle"?

He weren't no saint, --them engineersIs all pretty much alike, --One wife in Natchez-under-the-HillAnd another one here, in Pike;A keerless man in his talk was Jim, And an awkward hand in a row, But he never flunked, and he never lied, --I reckon he never knowed how. 

And this was all the religion he had, --To treat his engine well;Never be passed on the river;To mind the pilot's bell;And if ever the "Prairie Belle" took fire, --A thousand times he swore, He'd hold her nozzle agin the bankTill the last soul got ashore. 

All boats has their day on the Mississip, And her day come at last, --The "Movastar" was a better boat, But the "Belle" she _wouldn't_ be passed. And so she come tearin' along that night--The oldest craft on the line--With a nigger squat on her safety valve, And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. 

The fire bust out as she cleared the bar, And burnt a hole in the night, And quick as a flash she turned, and madeFor that willer-bank on the right. There was runnin' and cursing but Jim yelled out, Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bankTill the last galoot's ashore. "

Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boatJim Bludso's voice was heard, And they all had trust in his cussedness, And knowed he would keep his word. And, sure's you're born, they all got offAfore the smokestacks fell, --And Bludso's ghost went up aloneIn the smoke of the "Prairie Belle. "

He weren't no saint, --but at jedgmentI'd run my chance with Jim, 'Longside of some pious gentlemenThat wouldn't shake hands with him. He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, --And he went for it thar and then;And Christ ain't agoing to be too hardOn a man that died for men. 

THE TRIAL OF ABNER BARROW

From "The Boy Orator of Zepata City" in "The Exiles and Other Stories. "Copyrighted, 1894, Harper and Brothers. Reprinted with permission. 

BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS

Abe Barrow had been closely associated with the early history ofZepata; he had killed in his day several of the Zepata citizens. Hisfight with Thompson had been a fair fight--as those said who rememberedit--and Thompson was a man they could well spare; but the case againstBarrow had been prepared by the new and youthful district attorney, andthe people were satisfied and grateful. 

Harry Harvey, "The Boy Orator of Zepata City, " as he was called, turnedslowly on his heels, and swept the court room carelessly with a glanceof his clever black eyes. The moment was his. 

"This man, " he said, and as he spoke even the wind in the corridorshushed for the moment, "is no part or parcel of Zepata city of to-day. He comes to us a relic of the past--a past that was full of hardshipsand glorious efforts in the face of daily disappointments, embitterments and rebuffs. But the part _this_ man played in thatpast lives only in the court records of that day. This man, Abe Barrow, enjoys, and has enjoyed, a reputation as a 'bad man, ' a desperate andbrutal ruffian. Free him to-day, and you set a premium on suchreputations; acquit him of this crime, and you encourage others to likeevil. Let him go, and he will walk the streets with a swagger, andboast that you were afraid to touch him--_afraid_, gentlemen--andchildren and women will point after him as the man who has sent nineothers into eternity, and who yet walks the streets a free man. And hewill become, in the eyes of the young and the weak, a hero and a god. 

"For the last ten years, your honor, this man, Abner Barrow, has beenserving a term of imprisonment in the state penitentiary; I ask you tosend him back there again for the remainder of his life. Abe Barrow isout of date. This Rip Van Winkle of the past returns to find a citywhere he left a prairie town; a bank where he spun his roulette-wheel;this magnificent courthouse instead of a vigilance committee! He isthere, in the prisoner's pen, a convicted murderer and an unconvictedassassin, the last of his race, --the bullies and bad men of theborder, --a thing to be forgotten and put away forever from the sight ofmen. And I ask you, gentlemen, to put him away where he will not hearthe voice of man nor children's laughter, nor see a woman's smile. Buryhim with the bitter past, with the lawlessness that has gone--that hasgone, thank God--and which must not return. "

The district attorney sat down suddenly, and was conscious of nothinguntil the foreman pronounced the prisoner at the bar guilty of murderin the second degree. 

Judge Truax leaned across his desk and said, simply, that it lay in hispower to sentence the prisoner to not less than two years' confinementin the state penitentiary, or for the remainder of his life. 

"Before I deliver sentence on you, Abner Barrow, " he said with an oldman's kind severity, "is there anything you have to say on your ownbehalf?"

Barrow's face was white with the prison tan, and pinched and hollow-eyed and worn. When he spoke his voice had the huskiness which comesfrom non-use, and cracked and broke like a child's. 

"I don't know, Judge, " he said, "that I have anything to say in my ownbehalf. I guess what the gentleman said about me is all there is tosay. I _am_ a back number, I _am_ out of date; I _was_ a loafer and ablackguard. He told you I had no part or parcel in this city, or inthis world; that I belonged to the past; that I ought to be dead. Nowthat's not so. I have just one thing that belongs to this city, and tothis world--and to me; one thing that I couldn't take to jail with me, and I'll have to leave behind me when I go back to it. I mean my wife. You, sir, remember her, sir, when I married her twelve years ago. Shegave up everything a woman ought to have, to come to me. She thoughtshe was going to be happy with me; that's why she come, I guess. Maybeshe was happy for about two weeks. After that first two weeks her life, sir, was a hell, and I made it a hell. Respectable women wouldn't speakto her because she was my wife--and she had no children. That was herlife. She lived alone over the dance-hall, and sometimes when I wasdrunk--I beat her. 

"At the end of two years I killed Welsh, and they sent me to the penfor ten years, and she was free. She could have gone back to her folksand got a divorce if she'd wanted to, and never seen me again. It wasan escape most women'd gone down on their knees and thanked their Makerfor. 

"But what did this woman do--my wife, the woman I misused and beat anddragged down in the mud with me? She was too mighty proud to go back toher people, or to the friends who shook her when she was in trouble;and she sold out the place, and bought a ranch with the money, andworked it by herself, worked it day and night, until in ten years shehad made herself an old woman, as you see she is to-day. 

"And for what? To get _me_ free again; to bring _me_ things to eat injail, and picture papers, and tobacco--when she was living on bacon andpotatoes, and drinking alkali water--working to pay for a lawyer tofight for _me_--to pay for the _best_ lawyer. 

"And what I want to ask of you, sir, is to let me have two years out ofjail to show her how I feel about it. It's all I've thought of when Iwas in jail, to be able to see her sitting in her own kitchen with herhands folded, and me working and sweating in the fields for her, working till every bone ached, trying to make it up to her. 

"And I can't, I can't! It's too late! It's too late! Don't send me backfor life! Give me a few years to work for her--to show her what I feelhere, what I never felt for her before. Look at her, gentlemen, lookhow worn she is, and poorly, and look at her hands, and you men mustfeel how I feel--I don't ask you for myself. I don't want to go free onmy own account. My God! Judge, don't bury me alive, as that man askedyou to. Give me this last chance. Let me prove that what I'm saying istrue. "

Judge Truax looked at the papers on his desk for some seconds, andraised his head, coughing as he did so. 

"It lies--it lies at the discretion of this Court to sentence theprisoner to a term of imprisonment of two years, or for an indefiniteperiod, or for life. Owing to--on account of certain circumstanceswhich were--have arisen--this sentence is suspended. This Court standsadjourned. "

PART THREE

PLATFORM PRACTICE

THE SPEECH OF FORMAL OCCASION

THE BENEFITS OF A COLLEGE EDUCATION

From an address by the President to the students of Harvard University, at the announcement of Academic Distinctions, 1909

BY ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

This meeting is held not merely to honor the men who have won prizes, attained high rank, or achieved distinction in studies. In a largersense it is a tribute paid by the University to the ideals ofscholarship. It is a public confession of faith in the aims for whichthe University was established. We may, therefore, not inappropriatelyconsider here the nature and significance of scholarship. 

Without attempting an exhaustive catalogue of the benefits ofeducation, we may note three distinct objects of college study. Thefirst is the development of the mental powers with a view to their usein any subsequent career. In its broadest sense this may be calledtraining for citizenship, for we must remember that good citizenshipdoes not consist exclusively in rendering public service in politicaland philanthropic matters. It includes also conducting an industrial orprofessional career so as not to leave the public welfare out of sight. 

Popular government is exacting. It implies that in some form every manshall voluntarily consecrate a part of his time and force to the state, and the better the citizen, the greater the effort he will make. On thefunction of colleges in fitting men for citizenship and for activework, much emphasis has been laid of late. Yet it is not the only aimof college studies. Another object is cultivation of the mind, refinement of taste, a development of the qualities that distinguishthe civilized man from the barbarian. Nor does the value of thesethings lie in personal satisfaction alone. There is a culture that isselfish and exclusive, that is self-centered and conceited. Theintellectual snob is quite as repellant as any other. But this is trueof the moral distortion of all good qualities. The culture that narrowsthe sympathies, instead of enlarging them, has surely missed the objectthat should give its chief worth and dignity. The culture that revealsbeauty in all its forms, that refines the sensibilities, and expandsthe mental horizon, that, without a sense of superiority, desires toshare these things with others, and makes the lives of all men betterworth living, is like the glow of fire in a cold room. It is a form ofsocial service of a high order. 

A third benefit of college education is the contact it affords with thework of creative imagination. The highest type of scholar is thecreative scholar, just as the highest type of citizen is the statesman. The greatest figures in history, as almost every one will admit, arethe thinkers and the rulers of men. People will always differ in therelative value they ascribe to these two supreme forms of human power. But if one may indulge in apocalyptic visions, I should prefer inanother world to be worthy of the friendship of Aristotle rather thanof Alexander, of Shakespeare or Newton than of Napoleon or Frederickthe Great. 

When I spoke of the benefit of college life in training forcitizenship, and in imparting culture, I was obviously dealing withthings which lie within the reach of every student; but in speaking ofcreative scholarship you may think that I am appealing only to the fewmen who have the rare gift of creative genius. But happily the progressof the world is not in the exclusive custody of the occasional men ofgenius. Great originality is, indeed, rare; but on a smaller scale itis not uncommon, and the same principles apply to the production of allcreative work. The great scholar and the lesser intellectual lightsdiffer in brilliancy, but the same process must be followed to bringthem to their highest splendor. Nor is it the genius alone, or even theman of talent, who can enjoy and aid productive thought. It is notgiven to all men to possess creative scholarship themselves; but mostmen by following its footsteps can learn to respect it and feel itscharm; and for any man who passes through college without doing so, college education has been in one of its most vital elements a failure. If he has not recognized the glowing imagination, the lofty ideals, thepatience and the modesty, that characterize the true scholar, his timehere has been spent, not perhaps without profit, but withoutinspiration. 

All productive work is largely dependent upon appreciation by thecommunity. The great painters of Italy would have been sterile had notthe citizens of Florence been eager to carry Cimabue's masterpiece intriumph through the streets. Kant would never have written among apeople who despised philosophy; and the discoveries of our own daywould have been impossible in an unscientific age. Every man who haslearned to respect creative scholarship can enter into its spirit, andby respecting it he helps to foster it. 

WHAT THE COLLEGE GIVES

From "Girls and Education, " a commencement address, Bryn Mawr College, 1911, by permission of, and by special arrangement with, HoughtonMifflin Company, authorized publishers of this author's works. 

BY LE BARON RUSSELL BRIGGS

One of the best gifts that a college can bestow is the power of takinga new point of view through putting ourselves into another's place. Tomany students this comes hard, but come it must, as they hope to besaved. 

To the American world the name of Charles Eliot Norton stands for allthat is fastidious, even for what is over-fastidious; but Charles EliotNorton's collection of verse and prose called "The Heart of Oak Books"shows a catholicity which few of his critics could approach, a refinedliterary hospitality not less noteworthy than the refined humanhospitality of his Christmas Eve at Shady Hill. As an old man thisinterpreter of Dante saw and hailed with delight the genius of Mr. Kipling. If you leave college without catholicity of taste, somethingis wrong either with the college or with you. 

As in literature, so in life. The greatest teachers--even Christhimself--have taught nothing greater than the power of seeing with theeyes of another soul. "Browning, " said a woman who loves poetry, "seemsto me not so much man as God. " For Browning, beyond all men in the pastcentury, beyond nearly all men of all time, could throw himself intothe person of another. 

 "God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her, "

said this same great poet, writing to his wife. But Browning has asmany soul-sides as humanity. Hence it has been truly called a new life, like conversion, or marriage, or the mystery of a great sorrow, --achange and a bracing change in our outlook on the whole world, todiscover Browning. The college should be our Browning, revealing themotive power of every life, the poetry of good and bad. It is only the"little folk of little soul" who come out of college as the initiatedmembers of an exclusive set. Justify yourself and your college years byyour catholic democracy. 

It is the duty of the college not to train only, but to inspire; toinspire not to learning only, but to a disciplined appreciation of thebest in literature, in art, and in life, to a catholic taste, to auniversal sympathy. It is the duty of the student to take theinspiration, to be not disobedient to the heavenly vision, but tojustify four years of delight, by scholarship at once accurate andsympathetic, by a finer culture, by a leadership without self-seekingor pride, by a whole-souled democracy. How simple and how old it allis! Yet it is not so simple that any one man or woman has done it toperfection; nor so old that any one part of it fails to offer freshproblems and fresh stimulus to the most ambitious of you all. 

Nothing is harder than to take freely and eagerly the best that isoffered us, and never turn away to the pursuit of false gods. Now thebest that is offered in college is the inspiration to learn, and havinglearned, to do:--

 "Friends of the great, the high, the perilous years, Upon the brink of mighty things we stand-- Of golden harvests and of silver tears, And griefs and pleasures that like grains of sand Gleam in the hourglass, yield their place and die. "

So said the college poet. 

"Art without an ideal, " said a great woman, "is neither nature nor art. The question involves the whole difference between Phidias and Mme. Tussaud. " Let us never forget that the chief business of collegeteachers and college taught is the giving and receiving of ideals, andthat the ideal is a burning and a shining light, not now only, or nowand a year or two more, but for all time. What else is the patriot'slove of country, the philosopher's love of truth, the poet's love ofbeauty, the teacher's love of learning, the good man's love of anhonest life, than keeping the ideal, not merely to look at, but to seeby? In its light, and only in its light, the greatest things are done. Thus the ideal is not merely the most beautiful thing in the world; itis the source of all high efficiency. In every change, in every joy orsorrow that the coming years may bring, do you who graduate to-dayremember that nothing is so practical as a noble ideal steadily andbravely pursued, and that now, as of old, it is the wise men who seeand follow the guiding star. 

MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS

From "After-Dinner and Other Speeches, " with the permission of theauthor. 

BY JOHN D. LONG

In memory of the dead, in honor of the living, for inspiration to ourchildren, we gather to-day to deck the graves of our patriots withflowers, to pledge commonwealth and town and citizen to freshrecognition of the surviving soldier, and to picture yet again theromance, the reality, the glory, the sacrifice of his service. As if itwere but yesterday, you recall him. He had but turned twenty. Theexquisite tint of youthful health was in his cheek. His pure heartshone from frank, outspeaking eyes. His fair hair clustered frombeneath his cap. He had pulled a stout oar in the college race, orwalked the most graceful athlete on the village green. He had justentered on the vocation of his life. The doorway of his home at thisseason of the year was brilliant in the dewy morn with the clamberingvine and fragrant flower, as in and out he went, the beloved of motherand sisters, and the ideal of a New England youth:--

 "In face and shoulders like a god he was; For o'er him had the goddess breathed the charm Of youthful locks, the ruddy glow of youth, A generous gladness in his eyes: such grace As carver's hand to ivory gives, or when Silver or Parian stone in yellow gold Is set. "

And when the drum beat, when the first martyr's blood sprinkled thestones of Baltimore, he took his place in the ranks and went forward. You remember his ingenuous and glowing letters to his mother, writtenas if his pen were dipped in his very heart. How novel seemed to himthe routine of service, the life of camp and march! How eager the wishto meet the enemy and strike his first blow for the good cause! Whatpride at the promotion that came and put its chevron on his arm or itsstrap upon his shoulder!

They took him prisoner. He wasted in Libby and grew gaunt and haggardwith the horror of his sufferings and with pity for the greater horrorof the sufferings of his comrades who fainted and died at his side. Hetunneled the earth and escaped. Hungry and weak, in terror ofrecapture, he followed by night the pathway of the railroad. He sleptin thickets and sank in swamps. He saw the glitter of horsemen whopursued him. He knew the bloodhound was on his track. He reached theline; and, with his hand grasping at freedom, they caught and took himback to his captivity. He was exchanged at last; and you remember, whenhe came home on a short furlough, how manly and war-worn he had grown. But he soon returned to the ranks and to the welcome of his comrades. They recall him now alike with tears and pride. In the rifle pitsaround Petersburg you heard his steady voice and firm command. Some onewho saw him then fancied that he seemed that day like one who forefeltthe end. But there was no flinching as he charged. He had just turnedto give a cheer when the fatal ball struck him. There was a convulsionof the upward hand. His eyes, pleading and loyal, turned their lastglance to the flag. His lips parted. He fell dead, and at nightfall laywith his face to the stars. Home they brought him, fairer than Adonisover whom the goddess of beauty wept. They buried him in the villagechurchyard under the green turf. Year by year his comrades and his kin, nearer than comrades, scatter his grave with flowers. Do you ask who hewas? He was in every regiment and every company. He went out from everyMassachusetts village. He sleeps in every Massachusetts burying ground. Recall romance, recite the names of heroes of legend and song, butthere is none that is his peer. 

WILLIAM MCKINLEY

From an address in the United States Senate

BY JOHN HAY

For the third time the Congress of the United States are assembled tocommemorate the life and the death of a President slain by the hand ofan assassin. The attention of the future historian will be attracted tothe features which reappear with startling sameness in all three ofthese awful crimes: the uselessness, the utter lack of consequence ofthe act; the obscurity, the insignificance of the criminal; theblamelessness--so far as in our sphere of existence the best of men maybe held blameless--of the victim. Not one of our murdered Presidentshad an enemy in the world; they were all of such preeminent purity oflife that no pretext could be given for the attack of passional crime;they were all men of democratic instincts, who could never haveoffended the most jealous advocates of equality; they were of kindlyand generous nature, to whom wrong or injustice was impossible; ofmoderate fortune, whose slender means nobody could envy. They were menof austere virtue, of tender heart, of eminent abilities, which theyhad devoted with single minds to the good of the Republic. If ever menwalked before God and man without blame, it was these three rulers ofour people. The only temptation to attack their lives offered was theirgentle radiance--to eyes hating the light that was offense enough. 

The obvious elements which enter into the fame of a public man are fewand by no means recondite. The man who fills a great station in aperiod of change, who leads his country successfully through a time ofcrisis; who, by his power of persuading and controlling others, hasbeen able to command the best thought of his age, so as to leave hiscountry in a moral or material condition in advance of where he foundit, --such a man's position in history is secure. If, in addition tothis, his written or spoken words possess the subtle qualities whichcarry them far and lodge them in men's hearts; and, more than all, ifhis utterances and actions, while informed with a lofty morality, areyet tinged with the glow of human sympathy, --the fame of such a manwill shine like a beacon through the mists of ages--an object ofreverence, of imitation, and of love. It should be to us an occasion ofsolemn pride that in the three great crises of our history such a manwas not denied us. The moral value to a nation of a renown such asWashington's and Lincoln's and McKinley's is beyond all computation. Noloftier ideal can be held up to the emulation of ingenuous youth. Withsuch examples we cannot be wholly ignoble. Grateful as we may be forwhat they did, let us be still more grateful for what they were. Whileour daily being, our public policies, still feel the influence of theirwork, let us pray that in our spirits their lives may be voluble, calling us upward and onward. 

There is not one of us but feels prouder of his native land because theaugust figure of Washington presided over its beginnings; no one butvows it a tenderer love because Lincoln poured out his blood for it; noone but must feel his devotion for his country renewed and kindled whenhe remembers how McKinley loved, revered, and served it, showed in hislife how a citizen should live, and in his last hour taught us how agentleman could die. 

ROBERT E. LEE

From an address at the unveiling of a statue of General Lee, atWashington and Lee University, 1883

BY JOHN W. DANIEL

Mounted in the field and at the head of his troops, a glimpse of Leewas an inspiration. His figure was as distinctive as that of Napoleon. The black slouch hat, the cavalry boots, the dark cape, the plain graycoat without an ornament but the three stars on the collar, the calm, victorious face, the splendid, manly figure on the gray war horse, --helooked every inch the true knight--the grand, invincible champion of agreat principle. 

The men who wrested victory from his little band stood wonder-strickenand abashed when they saw how few were those who dared oppose them, andgenerous admiration burst into spontaneous tribute to the splendidleader who bore defeat with the quiet resignation of a hero. The menwho fought under him never revered or loved him more than on the day hesheathed his sword. Had he but said the word, they would have died forhonor. It was because he said the word that they resolved to live forduty. 

Plato congratulated himself, first, that he was born a man; second, that he had the happiness of being a Greek; and third, that he was acontemporary of Sophocles. And in this audience to-day, and here andthere the wide world over, is many an one who wore the gray, whorejoices that he was born a man to do a man's part for his sufferingcountry; that he had the glory of being a Confederate; and who feels ajustly proud and glowing consciousness in his bosom when he says untohimself: "I was a follower of Robert E. Lee. I was a soldier in thearmy of Northern Virginia. "

As president of Washington and Lee University, General Lee exhibitedqualities not less worthy and heroic than those displayed on the broadand open theater of conflict when the eyes of nations watched his everyaction. In the quiet walks of academic life, far removed from "war orbattle's sound, " came into view the towering grandeur, the massivesplendor, and the loving-kindness of his character. There he revealedin manifold gracious hospitalities, tender charities, and patient, worthy counsels, how deep and pure and inexhaustible were the fountainsof his virtues. And loving hearts delight to recall, as loving lipswill ever delight to tell, the thousand little things he did which sentforth lines of light to irradiate the gloom of the conquered land andto lift up the hopes and cheer the works of his people. 

Come we then to-day in loyal love to sanctify our memories, to purifyour hopes, to make strong all good intent by communion with the spiritof him who, being dead, yet speaketh. Let us crown his tomb with theoak, the emblem of his strength, and with the laurel, the emblem of hisglory. And as we seem to gaze once more on him we loved and hailed asChief, the tranquil face is clothed with heaven's light, and the mutelips seem eloquent with the message that in life he spoke, "There is atrue glory and a true honor; the glory of duty done, the honor of theintegrity of principle. "

FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE

BY HENRY CLAY

From 1806, the period of my entrance upon this noble theater, withshort intervals, to the present time, I have been engaged in the publiccouncils, at home or abroad. Of the services rendered during that longand arduous period of my life it does not become me to speak; history, if she deign to notice me, and posterity, if the recollection of myhumble actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best, thetruest, and the most impartial judges. 

I have not escaped the fate of other public men, nor failed to incurcensure and detraction of the bitterest, most unrelenting, and mostmalignant character. But I have not meanwhile been unsustained. Everywhere throughout the extent of this great continent I have hadcordial, warmhearted, faithful, and devoted friends, who have known me, loved me, and appreciated my motives. 

In the course of a long and arduous public service, especially duringthe last eleven years in which I have held a seat in the Senate, fromthe same ardor and enthusiasm of character, I have no doubt, in theheat of debate, and in an honest endeavor to maintain my opinionsagainst adverse opinions alike honestly entertained, as to the bestcourse to be adopted for the public welfare, I may have ofteninadvertently and unintentionally, in moments of excited debate, madeuse of language that has been offensive, and susceptible of injuriousinterpretation towards my brother Senators. If there be any here whoretain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction produced on suchoccasions, I beg to assure them that I now offer the most ample apologyfor any departure on my part from the established rules ofparliamentary decorum and courtesy. On the other hand, I assureSenators, one and all, without exception and without reserve, that Iretire from this chamber without carrying with me a single feeling ofresentment or dissatisfaction toward the Senate or any one of itsmembers. 

In retiring, as I am about to do, forever, from the Senate, suffer meto express my heartfelt wishes that all the great and patriotic objectsof the wise framers of our Constitution may be fulfilled; that the highdestiny designed for it may be fully answered; and that itsdeliberations, now and hereafter, may eventuate in securing theprosperity of our beloved country, in maintaining its rights and honorabroad, and upholding its interests at home. I retire, I know, at aperiod of infinite distress and embarrassment. I wish I could take myleave of you under more favorable auspices; but, without meaning atthis time to say whether on any or on whom reproaches for the sadcondition of the country should fall, I appeal to the Senate and to theworld to bear testimony to my earnest and continued exertions to avertit, and to the truth that no blame can justly attach to me. 

May the most precious blessings of heaven rest upon the whole Senateand each member of it, and may the labors of every one redound to thebenefit of the nation and the advancement of his own fame and renown. And when you shall retire to the bosom of your constituents, may youreceive that most cheering and gratifying of all human rewards--theircordial greeting of "Well done, good and faithful servant. "

And now, Mr. President, and Senators, I bid you all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell. 

THE DEATH OF GARFIELD

From an address before both houses of Congress, February, 1882

BY JAMES G. BLAINE

Surely, if happiness can ever come from the honors or triumphs of thisworld, on that quiet July morning James A. Garfield may well have beena happy man. No foreboding of evil haunted him, no slightestpremonition of danger clouded his sky. His terrible fate was upon himin an instant. One moment he stood erect, strong, confident in theyears stretching peacefully out before him. The next he lay wounded, bleeding, helpless, doomed to weary weeks of torture, to silence andthe grave. 

Great in life, he was surpassingly great in death. For no cause, in thevery frenzy of wantonness and wickedness, by the red hand of Murder hewas thrust from the full tide of this world's interest, from its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into the visible presence of death. Andhe did not quail. Not alone for the one short moment in which, stunnedand dazed, he could give up life, hardly aware of its relinquishment, but through days of deadly languor, through weeks of agony that was notless agony because silently borne, with clear sight and calm courage helooked into his open grave. What blight and ruin met his anguished eyeswhose lips may tell--what brilliant broken plans, what baffled highambitions, what sundering of strong, warm, manhood's friendships, whatbitter rending of sweet household ties! Behind him a proud, expectantnation; a great host of sustaining friends; a cherished and happymother wearing the full, rich honors of her early toil and tears; thewife of his youth, whose whole life lay in his; the little boys not yetemerged from childhood's day of frolic; the fair young daughter; thesturdy sons just springing into closest companionship, claiming everyday, and every day rewarding, a father's love and care; and in hisheart the eager, rejoicing power to meet all demand. Before himdesolation and great darkness! And his soul was not shaken. Hiscountrymen were thrilled with instant, profound, and universalsympathy. Masterful in his mortal weakness, he became the center of anation's love, enshrined in the prayers of a world. But all the loveand all the sympathy could not share with him his suffering. He trodthe winepress alone. With unfaltering front he faced death. Withunfailing tenderness he took leave of life. Above the demoniac hiss ofthe assassin's bullet he heard the voice of God. With simpleresignation he bowed to the divine decree. 

As the end drew near, his early craving for the sea returned. Thestately mansion of power had been to him the wearisome hospital ofpain, and he begged to be taken from its prison walls, from itsoppressive, stifling air, from its homelessness and its hopelessness. Gently, silently, the love of a great people bore the pale sufferer tothe longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God shouldwill, within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifoldvoices. With wan, fevered face tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze helooked out wistfully upon the ocean's changing wonders--on its farsails whitening in the morning light; on its restless waves rollingshoreward to break and die beneath the noonday sun; on the red cloudsof evening arching low to the horizon; on the serene and shiningpathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a mysticmeaning which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believethat in the silence of the receding world he heard the great wavesbreaking on a farther shore, and felt already upon his wasted brow thebreath of the eternal morning. 

THE SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS

Delivered from the steps of the Capitol at Washington, 1865. 

BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN

FELLOW COUNTRYMEN, --At this second appearing to take the oath of thePresidential office there is less occasion for an extended address thanthere was at first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a courseto be pursued seemed very fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration offour years, during which public declarations have been constantlycalled forth on every point and phase of the great contest which stillabsorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, littlethat is new could be presented. 

The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is aswell known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonablysatisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, noprediction in regard to it is ventured. 

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts wereanxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it, allsought to avoid it. While the inaugural address was being deliveredfrom this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it with war--seeking to dissolve the Union and divide the effects by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather thanlet the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than letit perish, and the war came. One eighth of the whole population werecolored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localizedin the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar andpowerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause ofthe war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was theobject for which the insurgents would rend the Union by war, while theGovernment claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorialenlargement of it. 

Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration whichit has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of theconflict might cease when, or even before, the conflict itself shouldcease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamentaland astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God, andeach invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that anymen should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their breadfrom the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not, that we benot judged. The prayer of both could not be answered. That of neitherhas been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. Woe untothe world because of offenses, for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh. If we shall supposethat American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providenceof God, must needs come, but which having continued through Hisappointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both Northand South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offensecame, shall we discern there any departure from those divine attributeswhich the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do wehope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war mayspeedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it continue until all thewealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years ofunrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn withthe lash shall be repaid by another drawn with the sword, as was saidthree thousand years ago, so still it must be said, that the judgmentsof the Lord are true and righteous altogether. 

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in theright as God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work we arein, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall haveborne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all whichmay achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves andwith all nations. 

THE DEATH OF PRINCE ALBERT

From an address in the House of Commons, February, 1862

BY BENJAMIN DISRAELI

No person can be insensible to the fact that the House meets to-nightunder circumstances very much changed from those which have attendedour assembling for many years. Of late years--indeed, for more thantwenty years past--whatever may have been our personal rivalries, andwhatever our party strife, there was at least one sentiment in which weall coincided, and that was a sentiment of admiring gratitude to thatThrone whose wisdom and whose goodness had so often softened theacerbities of our free public life, and had at all times somajestically represented the matured intelligence of an enlightenedpeople. 

Sir, all that is changed. He is gone who was "the comfort and support"of that Throne. It has been said that there is nothing which England somuch appreciates as the fulfillment of duty. The Prince whom we havelost not only was eminent for the fulfillment of duty, but it was thefulfillment of the highest duty under the most difficult circumstances. Prince Albert was the Consort of his Sovereign--he was the father ofone who might be his Sovereign--he was the Prime Councillor of a realm, the political constitution of which did not even recognize hispolitical existence. 

Sir, it is sometimes deplored by those who admired and loved him thathe was thwarted occasionally in his undertakings, and that he was notduly appreciated. But these are not circumstances for regret, but forcongratulation. They prove the leading and original mind which has solong and so advantageously labored for this country. Had he notencountered these obstacles, had he not been subject to this occasionaldistrust and misconception, it would only have shown that he was a manof ordinary mold and temper. Those who improve must change, those whochange must necessarily disturb and alarm men's prejudices. What he hadto encounter was only a demonstration that he was a man superior to hisage, and therefore admirably adapted for the work of progress. There isone other point, and one only, on which I will presume for a moment todwell, and it is not for the sake of you, Sir, or those who now hearme, or of the generation to which we belong, but it is that those whocome after us may not misunderstand the nature of this illustrious man. Prince Albert was not a mere patron; he was not one of those who bytheir gold or by their smiles reward excellence or stimulate exertion. His contributions to the cause of State were far more powerful and farmore precious. He gave to it his thought, his time, his toil; he gaveto it his life. On both sides and in all parts of the House I see manygentlemen who occasionally have acted with the Prince at those councilboards where they conferred and consulted upon the great undertakingswith which he was connected. I ask them, without fear of a denial, whether he was not the leading spirit, whether his was not the mindwhich foresaw the difficulty, his not the resources that supplied theremedy; whether his was not the courage which sustained them underapparently overpowering difficulties; whether every one who worked withhim did not feel that he was the real originator of those plans ofimprovement which they assisted in carrying into effect?

But what avail these words? This House to-night has been asked tocondole with the Crown upon this great calamity. No easy office. Tocondole, in general, is the office of those who, without the pale ofsorrow, still feel for the sorrowing. But in this instance the countryis as heart-stricken as its Queen. Yet in the mutual sensibility of aSovereign and a people there is something ennobling--something whichelevates the spirit beyond the level of mere earthly sorrow. Thecounties, the cities, the corporations of the realm--those illustriousassociations of learning and science and art and skill, of which he wasthe brightest ornament and the inspiring spirit, have bowed before theThrone. It does not become the Parliament of the country to be silent. The expression of our feelings may be late, but even in that latenessmay be observed some propriety. To-night the two Houses sanction theexpression of the public sorrow, and ratify, as it were, the record ofa nation's woe. 

AN APPRECIATION OF MR. GLADSTONE

From an address in the House of Commons

BY ARTHUR J. BALFOUR

I feel myself unequal even to dealing with what is, perhaps, morestrictly germane to this address--I mean, Mr. Gladstone as apolitician, as a Minister, as a leader of public thought, as an eminentservant of the Queen; and if I venture to say anything, it is rather ofMr. Gladstone, the greatest member of the greatest deliberativeassembly, which, so far, the world has seen. 

Sir, I think it is the language of sober and unexaggerated truth to saythat there is no gift which would enable a man to move, to influence, to adorn an assembly like this that Mr. Gladstone did not possess in asupereminent degree. Debaters as ready there may have been, orators asfinished. It may have been given to others to sway as skillfully thisassembly, or to appeal with as much directness and force to the simplerinstincts of the great masses in the country; but, sir, it has beengiven to no man to combine all these great gifts as they were combinedin the person of Mr. Gladstone. From the conversational discussionappropriate to our work in committees, to the most sustained eloquencebefitting some great argument, and some great historic occasion, everyweapon of Parliamentary warfare was wielded by him with the success andease of a perfect, absolute, and complete mastery. I would not venturemyself to pronounce an opinion as to whether he was most excellent inthe exposition of a somewhat complicated budget of finance orlegislation, or whether he showed it most in the heat of extemporarydebate. At least this we may say, that from the humbler arts ofridicule or invective to the subtlest dialectic, the most persuasiveeloquence, the most cogent appeals to everything that was highest andbest in the audience that he was addressing, every instrument whichcould find place in the armory of a member of this House, he had at hiscommand without premeditation, without forethought, at the moment andin the form which appeared best suited to carry out his purpose. 

It may, perhaps, be asked whether I have nothing to say about Mr. Gladstone's place in history, about the judgment we ought to pass uponthe great part which he has played in the history of his country andthe history of the world during the many years in which he held aforemost place in this assembly. These questions are legitimatequestions. But they are not to be discussed by me to-day. Nor, indeed, do I think that the final answer can be given to them--the finaljudgment pronounced--in the course of this generation. But one servicehe did--in my opinion incalculable--which is altogether apart from thejudgment which we may be disposed to pass on the particular opinions, the particular views, or the particular lines of policy which Mr. Gladstone may from time to time have adopted. Sir, he added a dignityand he added a weight to the deliberations of this House by his geniuswhich I think it is impossible adequately to express. 

It is not enough, in my opinion, to keep up simply a level, though itbe a high level, of probity and of patriotism. The mere virtue of civichonesty is not sufficient to preserve this assembly from the fate whichhas overcome so many other assemblies, the products of democraticforces. More than this is required, more than this was given to us byMr. Gladstone. Those who seek to raise in the public estimation thelevel of our proceedings will be the most ready to admit the infinitevalue of those services, and realize how much the public prosperity isinvolved in the maintenance of the work of public life. Sir, that is aview which, it seems to me, places the services of Mr. Gladstone tothis assembly, which he loved so well, and of which he was so great amember, in as clear a light and on as firm a basis as it is possible toplace them. 

WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE

From an address in the House of Lords, May, 1898

BY LORD ROSEBERY

My Lords, this is, as has been pointed out, an unique occasion. Mr. Gladstone always expressed a hope that there might be an interval leftto him between the end of his political and of his natural life. Thatperiod was given to him, for it is more than four years since hequitted the sphere of politics. Those four years have been with him aspecial preparation for his death, but have they not also been apreparation for his death with the nation at large? Had he died in theplenitude of his power as Prime Minister, would it have been possiblefor a vigorous and convinced Opposition to allow to pass to him, without a word of dissent, the honors which are now universallyconceded? Hushed for the moment are the voices of criticism; hushed arethe controversies in which he took part; hushed for the moment is thevery sound of party conflict. I venture to think that this is a notablefact in our history. It was not so with the elder Pitt. It was not sowith the younger Pitt. It was not so with the elder Pitt--in spite ofhis tragic end, of his unrivaled services, and of his enfeebled oldage. It was not so with the younger Pitt--in spite of his long controlof the country and his absolute and absorbed devotion to the State. Ithink that we should remember this as creditable not merely to the man, but to the nation. 

My Lords, there is one deeply melancholy feature of Mr. Gladstone'sdeath--by far the most melancholy--to which I think none of my noblefriends have referred. I think that all our thoughts must be turned, now that Mr. Gladstone is gone, to that solitary and pathetic figurewho, for sixty years, shared all the sorrows and all the joys of Mr. Gladstone's life; who received his every confidence and everyaspiration; who shared his triumphs with and cheered him under hisdefeats; who, by her tender vigilance, I firmly believe, sustained andprolonged his years. I think that the occasion ought not to passwithout letting Mrs. Gladstone know that she is in all our thoughts to-day. And yet, my Lords--putting that one figure aside--to me, at anyrate, this is not an occasion for absolute and entire and unreservedlamentation. Were it, indeed, possible so to protract the inexorablelimits of human life that we might have hoped that future years, andeven future generations, might see Mr. Gladstone's face and hear hismatchless voice, and receive the lessons of his unrivaled experience--we might, perhaps, grieve to-day as those who have no hope. But that isnot the case. He had long exceeded the span of mortal life; and hislatter months had been months of unspeakable pain and distress. He isnow in that rest for which he sought and prayed, and which was to givehim relief from an existence which had become a burden to him. Surelythis should not be an occasion entirely for grief; when a lifeprolonged to such a limit, so full of honor, so crowned with glory, hadcome to its termination. The nation lives that produced him. The nationthat produced him may yet produce others like him; and, in themeantime, it is rich in his memory, rich in his life, and rich, aboveall, in his animating and inspiring example. Nor do I think that weshould regard this heritage as limited to our own country or to our ownrace. It seems to me that, if we may judge from the papers of to-day, that it is shared by, that it is the possession of, all civilizedmankind, and that generations still to come, through many long years, will look for encouragement in labor, for fortitude in adversity, forthe example of a sublime Christianity, with constant hope and constantencouragement, to the pure, the splendid, the dauntless figure ofWilliam Ewart Gladstone. 

THE SOLDIER'S CREED

From a centennial address at the United States Military Academy at WestPoint, with the author's permission. 

BY HORACE PORTER

As we stand here to-day a hundred years of history pass in reviewbefore us. The present permanent Academy was founded in 1802. The classthat year contained two cadets. During the ten years following theaverage number was twenty. We might say of the cadets of those dayswhat Curran said of the books in his library--"not numerous, butselect. "

And now a word to the Corps of Cadets, the departure of whosegraduating class marks the close of the first century of the Academy'slife. The boy is father to the man. The present is the mold in whichthe future is cast. The dominant characteristics of the cadet are seenin the future general. You have learned here how to command, and astill more useful lesson, how to obey. You have been taught obedienceto the civil, as well as to the military, code, for in this land themilitary is always subordinate to the civil law. Not the least valuablepart of your education is your service in the cadet ranks, performingthe duties of a private soldier. That alone can acquaint you with thefeelings and the capabilities of the soldiers you will command. Itteaches you just how long a man can carry a musket in one positionwithout overfatigue, just how hard it is to keep awake on sentry dutyafter an exhausting day's march. You will never forget this part ofyour training. When Marshal Lannes's grenadiers had been repulsed in anassault upon the walls of a fortified city, and hesitated to renew theattack, Lannes seized a scaling ladder and, rushing forward, cried:"Before I was a marshal I was a grenadier, and I have not forgotten mytraining. " Inspired by his example, the grenadiers carried the wallsand captured everything before them. 

Courage is the soldier's cardinal virtue. You will seldom go amiss infollowing General Grant's instructions to his commanders, "When indoubt move to the front. "

A generous country has with fostering care equipped you for yourcareer. It is entitled to your undivided allegiance. In closing, let memention, by way of illustration, a most touching and instructive scenewhich I once witnessed at the annual meeting in the great hall of theSorbonne in Paris for the purpose of awarding medals of honor to thosewho had performed acts of conspicuous bravery in saving human life atsea. A bright-eyed boy of scarcely fourteen summers was called to theplatform. The story was recounted of how one winter's night when afierce tempest was raging on the rude Normandy coast, he saw signals ofdistress at sea and started with his father, the captain of a smallvessel, and the mate to attempt a rescue. By dint of almost superhumaneffort the crew of a sinking ship was safely taken aboard. A wave thenwashed the father from the deck. The boy plunged into the seethingwaves to save him, but the attempt was in vain, and the fatherperished. The lad struggled back to the vessel to find that the matehad also been washed overboard. Then lashing himself fast, he took thewheel and guided the boat, with its precious cargo of human souls, through the howling storm safely into port. The minister of publicinstruction, after paying a touching tribute to the boy's courage in avoice broken with emotion, pinned the medal on his breast, placed inhis hands a diploma of honor, and then, seizing the brave lad in hisarms, imprinted a kiss on each cheek. For a moment the boy seemeddazed, not knowing which way to turn, as he stood there with the tearsstreaming down his bronzed cheeks while every one in that vast hallwept in sympathy. Suddenly his eyes turned toward his old peasantmother, she to whom he owed his birth and his training, as she sat atthe back of the platform with bended form and wearing her widow's cap. He rushed to her, took the medal from his breast, and, casting it andhis diploma into her lap, threw himself on his knees at her feet. 

Men of West Point, in the honorable career which you have chosen, whatever laurels you may win, always be ready to lay them at the feetof your country to which you owe your birth and your education. 

COMPETITION IN COLLEGE

From an address at Columbia University, June, 1909

BY ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

We have seen that the sifting out of young men capable of scholarshipis receiving to-day less attention than it deserves; and that thisapplies not only to recruiting future leaders of thought, but also toprevailing upon every young man to develop the intellectual powers hemay possess. We have seen also that, while the graduate school cantrain scholars, it cannot create love of scholarship. That work must bedone in undergraduate days. We have found reasons to believe thatduring the whole period of training, mental and physical, which reachesits culmination in college, competition is not only a proper but anessential factor; and we have observed the results that have beenachieved at Oxford and Cambridge by its use. In this country, on theother hand, several causes, foremost among them the elective system, have almost banished competition in scholarship from our colleges;while the inadequate character of our tests, and the corporate natureof self-interest in these latter times, raise serious difficulties inmaking it effective. 

Nevertheless, I have faith that these obstacles can be overcome, andthat we can raise intellectual achievement in college to its rightfulplace in public estimation. We are told that it is idle to expect youngmen to do strenuous work before they feel the impending pressure ofearning a livelihood; that they naturally love ease and self-indulgence, and can be aroused from lethargy only by discipline, or bycontact with the hard facts of a struggle with the world. If I believedthat, I would not be president of a college for a moment. It is nottrue. A normal young man longs for nothing so much as to devote himselfto a cause that calls forth his enthusiasm, and the greater thesacrifice involved, the more eagerly will he grasp it. If we were atwar and our students were told that two regiments were seekingrecruits, one of which would be stationed at Fortress Monroe, well-housed and fed, living in luxury, without risk of death or wounds, while the other would go to the front, be starved and harassed byfatiguing marches under a broiling sun, amid pestilence, with menfalling from its ranks killed or suffering mutilation, not a single manwould volunteer for the first regiment, but the second would be quicklyfilled. Who is it that makes football a dangerous and painful sport? Isit the faculty or the players themselves?

A young man wants to test himself on every side, in strength, inquickness, in skill, in courage, in endurance; and he will go throughmuch to prove his merit. He wants to test himself, provided he hasfaith that the test is true, and that the quality tried is one thatmakes for manliness; otherwise he will have none of it. Now we have notconvinced him that high scholarship is a manly thing worthy of hisdevotion, or that our examinations are faithful tests of intellectualpower; and in so far as we have failed in this we have come short ofwhat we ought to do. Universities stand for the eternal worth ofthought, for the preeminence of the prophet and the seer; but insteadof being thrilled by the eager search for truth, our classes too oftensit listless on the bench. It is not because the lecturer is dull, butbecause the pupils do not prize the end enough to relish the drudgeryrequired for skill in any great pursuit, or indeed in any sport. Tomake them see the greatness of that end, how fully it deserves theprice that must be paid for it, how richly it rewards the man who maycompete for it, we must learn--and herein lies the secret--we mustlearn the precious art of touching their imagination. 

A MASTER OF THE SITUATION

From a lecture, entitled "Masters of the Situation"

BY JAMES T. FIELDS

There was once a noble ship full of eager passengers, freighted with arich cargo, steaming at full speed from England to America. Two thirdsof a prosperous voyage thus far were over, as in our mess we werebeginning to talk of home. Fore and aft the songs of good cheer andhearty merriment rose from deck to cabin. 

 "As if the beauteous ship enjoyed the beauty of the sea, She lifteth up her stately head, and saileth joyfully, A lovely path before her lies, a lovely path behind; She sails amid the loveliness like a thing of heart and mind. "

Suddenly, a dense fog came, shrouding the horizon, but as this was acommon occurrence in the latitude we were sailing, it was hardlymentioned in our talk that afternoon. There are always croakers onboard ship, if the weather changes however slightly, but the_Britannia_ was free, that voyage, of such unwelcome passengers. Ahappier company never sailed upon an autumn sea! The storytellers arebusy with their yarns to audiences of delighted listeners in shelteredplaces; the ladies are lying about on couches, and shawls, reading orsinging; children in merry companies are taking hands and racing up anddown the decks, --when a quick cry from the lookout, a rush of officersand men, and we are grinding on a ledge of rocks off Cape Race! One ofthose strong currents, always mysterious, and sometimes impossible toforesee, had set us into shore out of our course, and the ship wasblindly beating on a dreary coast of sharp and craggy rocks. 

I heard the order given, "Every one on deck!" and knew what thatmeant--the masts were in danger of falling. Looking over the side, wesaw bits of the keel, great pieces of plank, floating out into the deepwater. A hundred pallid faces were huddled together near the stern ofthe ship where we were told to go and wait. I remember somebody saidthat a little child, the playfellow of passengers and crew, could notbe found, and that some of us started to find him; and that when wereturned him to his mother she spake never a word, but seemed dumb withterror at the prospect of separation and shipwreck, and that otherspecter so ghastly when encountered at sea. 

Suddenly we heard a voice up in the fog in the direction of thewheelhouse, ringing like a clarion above the roar of the waves, and theclashing sounds on shipboard, and it had in it an assuring, not afearful tone. As the orders came distinctly and deliberately throughthe captain's trumpet, to "ship the cargo, " to "back her, " to "keep hersteady, " we felt somehow that the commander up there in the thick miston the wheelhouse knew what he was about, and that through his skilland courage, by the blessing of heaven, we should all be rescued. Theman who saved us so far as human aid ever saves drowning mortals, wasone fully competent to command a ship; and when, after weary days ofanxious suspense, the vessel leaking badly, and the fires in danger ofbeing put out, we arrived safely in Halifax, old Mr. Cunard, agent ofthe line, on hearing from the mail officer that the steamer had struckon the rocks and had been saved only by the captain's presence of mindand courage, simply replied, "Just what might have been expected insuch a disaster; Captain Harrison is always master of the situation. "Now, no man ever became master of the situation by accident orindolence. I believe with Shelley, that the Almighty has given men andwomen arms long enough to reach the stars if they will only put themout! It was an admirable saying of the Duke of Wellington, "that nogeneral ever blundered into a great victory. " St. Hilaire said, "Iignore the existence of a blind chance, accident, and haphazardresults. " "He happened to succeed, " is a foolish, unmeaning phrase. Noman happens to succeed. 

WIT AND HUMOR

Reprinted from "American Wit and Humor, " copyrighted in "ModernEloquence, " Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY MINOT J. SAVAGE

Wit may take many forms, but it resides essentially in the thought orthe imagination. In its highest forms it does not deal in things butwith ideas. It is the shock of pleased surprise which results from theperception of unexpected likeness between things that differ or of anunexpected difference between things that are alike. Or it is whereutterly incongruous things are apparently combined in the expression ofone idea. Wit may be bitter or kindly or entirely neutral so far as thefeelings are concerned. When extremes of feeling, one way or the other, are concerned, then it takes on other names which will be considered bythemselves. 

But not to stop any longer with definition, it is almost pure wit whensome one said of an endless talker that he had "occasional brilliantflashes of silence. " So of the saying of Mr. Henry Clapp. You know itis said of Shakespeare, "He is not for a day, but for all time. "Speaking of the bore who calls when you are busy and never goes, Mr. Clapp said, "He is not for a time, but for all day. " And what could bemore deliciously perfect than the following: Senator Beck of Kentuckywas an everlasting talker. One day a friend remarked to Senator Hoar, "I should think Beck would wear his brain all out talking so much. "Whereupon Mr. Hoar replied, "Oh, that doesn't affect him any: he restshis mind when he is talking. " This has, indeed, a touch of sarcasm; butit is as near the pure gold of wit as you often get. Or, take this. There being two houses both of which are insisted on as the realbirthplace of the great philosopher and statesman, Mark Twain gravelyinforms us that "Franklin was twins, having been born simultaneously intwo different houses in Boston. "

One of the finest specimens of clear-cut wit is the saying of the Hon. Carroll D. Wright. Referring to the common saying, he once keenlyremarked: "I know it is said that figures won't lie, but, unfortunately, liars will figure. "

In contradistinction from wit, humor deals with incidents, characters, situations. True humor is altogether kindly; for, while it points outand pictures the weaknesses and foibles of humanity, it feels nocontempt and leaves no sting. It has its root in sympathy and blossomsout in toleration. 

It would take too long at this point in my lecture to quote completespecimens of humor; for that would mean spreading out before youdetailed scenes or full descriptions. But fortunately it is notnecessary. Cervantes, Shakespeare, Charles Lamb, Dickens, and a host ofothers will readily occur to you. But what could be better of its kindthan this? General Joe Johnston was one day riding leisurely behind hisarmy on the march. Food had been scarce and rations limited. He spied astraggler in the brush beside the road. He called out sharply, "Whatare you doing here?" Being caught out of the ranks was a seriousoffense, but the soldier was equal to the emergency. So to theGeneral's question he replied, "Pickin' 'simmons. " The persimmon, asyou know, has the quality of puckering the mouth, as a certain kind ofwild cherry used to mine when I was a boy. "What are you picking'simmons for?" sharply rejoined the General. Then came the humorousreply that disarmed all of the officer's anger and appealed to hissympathy, while it hinted all "the boys" were suffering for the cause. "Well, the fact of it is, General, I'm trying to shrink up my stomachto the size of my rations, so I won't starve to death. "

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA

From an article in The Philistine, with the permission of the author

BY ELBERT HUBBARD

When war broke out between Spain and the United States, it was verynecessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba--no one knewwhere. No mail or telegraph message could reach him. The Presidentmust secure his cooperation, and quickly. 

What to do!

Some one said to the President, "There's a fellow by the name of Rowanwill find Garcia for you if anybody can. " Rowan was sent for and givena letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name ofRowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oilskin pouch, strapped itover his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba froman open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came outon the other side of the island, having traversed a hostile country onfoot, and delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no specialdesire now to tell in detail. 

The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to bedelivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where ishe at?" By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast indeathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. Itis not book learning young men need, nor instruction about this andthat, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to beloyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies; do thething--"Carry a message to Garcia!"

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias. No man who hasendeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, buthas been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the averageman--the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and doit. Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, andhalf-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook orcrook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; ormayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him an angelof light for an assistant. 

And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, thisinfirmity of the will, this unwillingness to catch hold and lift, arethe things that put pure socialism so far into the future. If men willnot act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of theeffort is for all?

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is awayas well as when he is at home. And the man, who, when given a letterfor Garcia, quietly takes the missive, without asking any idioticquestions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into thenearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laidoff, " nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is onelong anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asksshall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford tolet him go. He is wanted in every city, town, and village--in everyoffice, shop, store, and factory. The world cries out for such; he isneeded, and needed badly-the man who can carry a message to Garcia. 

SHAKESPEARE'S "MARK ANTONY"

ANONYMOUS

A Roman, an orator, and a triumvir, a conqueror when all Rome seemedarmed against him only to have his glory "false played" by a woman"unto an enemy's triumph, "--such is Shakespeare's story of Mark Antony. Passion alternates with passion, purpose with purpose, good with evil, and strength with weakness, until his whole nature seems changed, andwe find the same and yet another man. 

In "Julius Cęsar" Antony is seen at his best. He is the one triumphantfigure of the play. Cęsar falls. Brutus and Cassius are in turnvictorious and defeated, but Antony is everywhere a conqueror. Antonyweeping over Cęsar's body, Antony offering his breast to the daggerswhich have killed his master, is as plainly the sovereign power of themoment as when over Cęsar's corpse he forces by his magnetic oratorythe prejudiced populace to call down curses on the heads of theconspirators. 

Cęsar's spirit still lives in Antony, --a spirit that dares face theconspirators with swords still red with Cęsar's blood and bid them, Whilst their purple hands do reek and smoke, fulfill their pleasure, --a spirit that over the dead body of Cęsartakes the hand of each and yet exclaims:--

 "Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies. "

Permission is granted Antony to speak a farewell word over the body ofCęsar in the crowded market place. Before the populace, hostile andprejudiced, Antony stands as the friend of Cęsar. Slowly, surely, making his approach step by step, with consummate tact he steals awaytheir hearts and paves the way for his own victory. The honorable mengradually turn to villains of the blackest dye. Cęsar's mantle, whichbut a moment before had called forth bitter curses, now brings tears toevery Roman's eye. The populace fast yields to his eloquence. Heconquers every vestige of distrust as he says:--

 "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. "

And now the matchless orator throws off his disguise. With resistlessvehemence he pours forth a flood of eloquence which bears the ficklemob like straws before its tide:--

 "I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cęsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 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 Cęsar, that would move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. "

The effect is magical. The rage of the populace is quickened to a whiteheat; and, baffled, beaten by a plain, blunt man, the terror-strickenconspirators ride like madness through the gates of Rome. 

ANDR. AND HALE

From "Orations and After-Dinner Speeches, " the Cassell PublishingCompany, New York, publishers. 

BY CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW

André's story is the one overmastering romance of the Revolution. American and English literature is full of eloquence and poetry intribute to his memory and sympathy for his fate. After the lapse of ahundred years, there is no abatement of absorbing interest. What hadthis young man done to merit immortality? The mission whose tragicissue lifted him out of the oblivion of other minor British officers, in its inception was free from peril or daring, and its objects andpurposes were utterly infamous. 

Had he succeeded by the desecration of the honorable uses of passes andflags of truce, his name would have been held in everlastingexecration. In his failure the infant Republic escaped the dagger withwhich he was feeling for its heart, and the crime was drowned in tearsfor his untimely end. His youth and beauty, the brightness of his life, the calm courage in the gloom of his death, his early love anddisappointment, surrounded him with a halo of poetry and pity whichhave secured for him what he most sought and could never have won inbattles and sieges, --a fame and recognition which have outlived that ofall the generals under whom he served. 

Are kings only grateful, and do not republics forget? Is fame atravesty, and the judgment of mankind a farce? America had a parallelcase in Captain Nathan Hale. Of the same age as André, he, aftergraduation at Yale College with high honors, enlisted in the patriotcause at the beginning of the contest, and secured the love andconfidence of all about him. When none else would go upon a mostimportant and perilous mission, he volunteered, and was captured by theBritish. 

While André received every kindness, courtesy, and attention, and wasfed from Washington's table, Hale was thrust into a noisome dungeon inthe sugarhouse. While André was tried by a board of officers and hadample time and every facility for defense, Hale was summarily orderedto execution the next morning. While André's last wishes and bequestswere sacredly followed, the infamous Cunningham tore from Hale hischerished Bible and destroyed before his eyes his last letter to hismother and sister, and asked him what he had to say. "All I have tosay, " was his reply, "is, I regret I have but one life to lose for mycountry. "

The dying declarations of Andre and Hale express the animating spiritof their several armies, and teach why, with all her power, Englandcould not conquer America. "I call upon you to witness that I die likea brave man, " said André, and he spoke from British and Hessiansurroundings, seeking only glory and pay. "I regret I have but one lifeto lose for my country, " said Hale; and, with him and his comrades, self was forgotten in that absorbing, passionate patriotism whichpledges fortune, honor, and life to the sacred cause. 

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON

BY THEODORE PARKER

One raw morning in spring--it will be eighty years the nineteenth dayof this month--Hancock and Adams, the Moses and Aaron of that GreatDeliverance, were both at Lexington; they also had "obstructed anofficer" with brave words. British soldiers, a thousand strong, came toseize them and carry them over sea for trial, and so nip the bud ofFreedom auspiciously opening in that early spring. The town militiacame together before daylight, "for training. " A great, tall man, witha large head and a high, wide brow, their captain, --one who had "seenservice, "--marshaled them into line, numbering but seventy, and bade"every man load his piece with powder and ball. " "I will order thefirst man shot that runs away, " said he, when some faltered. "Don'tfire unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war, let it beginhere. "

Gentlemen, you know what followed; those farmers and mechanics "firedthe shot heard round the world. " A little monument covers the bones ofsuch as before had pledged their fortune and their sacred honor to theFreedom of America, and that day gave it also their lives. I was bornin that little town, and bred up amid the memories of that day. When aboy, my mother lifted me up, on Sunday, in her religious, patrioticarms, and held me while I read the first monumental line I ever saw--"Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind. "

Since then I have studied the memorial marbles of Greece and Rome, inmany an ancient town; nay, on Egyptian obelisks, have read what waswritten before the Eternal roused up Moses to lead Israel out of Egypt, but no chiseled stone has ever stirred me to such emotion as theserustic names of men who fell "In the Sacred Cause of God and theirCountry. "

Gentlemen, the Spirit of Liberty, the Love of Justice, was early fannedinto a flame in my boyish heart. The monument covers the bones of myown kinsfolk; it was their blood which reddened the long, green grassat Lexington. It was my own name which stands chiseled on that stone;the tall Captain who marshaled his fellow farmers and mechanics intostern array, and spoke such brave and dangerous words as opened the warof American Independence, --the last to leave the field, --was myfather's father. I learned to read out of his Bible, and with a muskethe that day captured from the foe, I learned also another religiouslesson, that "Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God. " I keep themboth "Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind, " to use them both"In the Sacred Cause of God and my Country. "

THE HOMES OF THE PEOPLE

Reprinted with the permission of Henry W. Grady, Jr. 

BY HENRY W. GRADY

I went to Washington the other day, and I stood on the Capitol Hill; myheart beat quick as I looked at the towering marble of my country'sCapitol, and the mist gathered in my eyes as I thought of itstremendous significance, and the armies and the treasury, and thejudges and the President, and the Congress and the courts, and all thatwas gathered there. And I felt that the sun in all its course could notlook down on a better sight than that majestic home of a republic thathad taught the world its best lessons of liberty. And I felt that ifhonor and wisdom and justice abided therein, the world would at lastowe that great house in which the ark of the covenant of my country islodged, its final uplifting and its regeneration. 

Two days afterward, I went to visit a friend in the country, a modestman, with a quiet country home. It was just a simple, unpretentioushouse, set about with big trees, encircled in meadow and field richwith the promise of harvest. 

Inside was quiet, cleanliness, thrift, and comfort. Outside, therestood my friend, the master, a simple, upright man, with no mortgage onhis roof, no lien on his growing crops, master of his own land andmaster of himself. There was his old father, an aged, trembling man, but happy in the heart and home of his son. 

They started to their home, and as they reached the door the old mothercame with the sunset falling fair on her face, and lighting up herdeep, patient eyes, while her lips, trembling with the rich music ofher heart, bade her husband and son welcome to their home. Beyond wasthe housewife, busy with her household cares, clean of heart andconscience, the buckler and helpmeet of her husband. Down the lane camethe children, trooping home after the cows, seeking as truant birds dothe quiet of their home nest. 

And I saw the night come down on that house, falling gently as thewings of the unseen dove. And the old man--while a startled bird calledfrom the forest, and the trees were shrill with the cricket's cry, andthe stars were swarming in the sky--got the family around him, and, taking the old Bible from the table, called them to their knees, thelittle baby hiding in the folds of its mother's dress, while he closedthe record of that simple day by calling down God's benediction on thatfamily and on that home. And while I gazed, the vision of that marbleCapitol faded. Forgotten were its treasures and its majesty, and Isaid, "Oh, surely here in the homes of the people are lodged at lastthe strength and the responsibility of this government, the hope andthe promise of this republic. "

GENERAL ULYSSES S. GRANT

BY CANON G. W. FARRAR

When Abraham Lincoln sat, book in hand, day after day, under the tree, moving round it as the shadow crossed, absorbed in mastering his task;when James Garfield rang the bell at Hiram Institute on the very strokeof the hour and swept the schoolroom as faithfully as he mastered hisGreek lesson; when Ulysses Grant, sent with his team to meet some menwho came to load his cart with logs, and, finding no men, loaded thecart with his own boy's strength, they showed in the conscientiousperformance of duty the qualities which were to raise them to becomekings of men. When John Adams was told that his son, John Quincy Adams, had been elected President of the United States, he said, "He hasalways been laborious, child and man, from infancy. "

But the youth was not destined to die in the deep valley of obscurityand toil, in which it is the lot--and perhaps the happy lot--of most ofus to spend our little lives. The hour came; the man was needed. In1861 there broke out that most terrible war of modern days. Grantreceived a commission as Colonel of Volunteers, and in four years thestruggling toiler had been raised to the chief command of a vaster armythan has ever been handled by any mortal man. Who could have imaginedthat four years would make that enormous difference? But it is oftenso. The great men needed for some tremendous crisis have stepped often, as it were, out of a door in the wall which no man had noticed; and, unannounced, unheralded, without prestige, have made their way silentlyand single-handed to the front. And there was no luck in it. It was awork of inflexible faithfulness, of indomitable resolution, ofsleepless energy, and iron purpose and tenacity. In the campaigns atFort Donelson; in the desperate battle at Shiloh; in the siege ofCorinth; in battle after battle, in seige after seige; whatever Granthad to do, he did it with his might. Other generals might fail--hewould not fail. He showed what a man could do whose will was strong. Heundertook, as General Sherman said of him, what no one else would haveventured and his very soldiers began to reflect something of hisindomitable determination. 

His sayings revealed the man. "I have nothing to do with opinions, " hesaid at the outset, " and shall only deal with armed rebellion. " "Inriding over the field, " he said at Shiloh, "I saw that either side wasready to give way, if the other showed a bold front. I took theopportunity, and ordered an advance along the whole line. " "No terms, "he wrote to General Buckner at Fort Donelson (and it is pleasant toknow that General Buckner stood as a warm friend beside his dying bed);"no terms other than unconditional surrender can be accepted. " "Myheadquarters, " he wrote from Vicksburg, "will be on the field. " With amilitary genius which embraced the vastest plans while attending to thesmallest details, he defeated, one after another, every great generalof the Confederates except Stonewall Jackson. The Southerners felt thathe held them as in the grasp of a vise; that this man could neither bearrested nor avoided. For all this he has been severely blamed. Heought not to be blamed. He has been called a butcher, which is grosslyunjust. He loved peace; he hated bloodshed; his heart was generous andkind. His orders were to save lives, to save treasure, but at all coststo save his country--and he did save his country. 

After the surrender at Appomattox Court House, the war was over. He hadput his hand to the plow and had looked not back. He had made blowafter blow, each following where the last had struck; he had wieldedlike a hammer the gigantic forces at his disposal, and had smittenopposition into the dust. It was a mighty work, and he had done itwell. Surely history has shown that for the future destinies of amighty nation it was a necessary and blessed work!

AMERICAN COURAGE

From the copyrighted print in "A Modern Reader and Speaker, " by GeorgeRiddle, with the permission of Duffield and Company, New York, publishers. 

BY SHERMAN HOAR

I fear we undervalue the devotion to country which comes from acontemplation of what has been done and suffered in her name. I feelthat we teach those who are to make or mar the future of this nationtoo much of what has been done elsewhere, and too little of what hasbeen done here. Courage is the characteristic of no one land or time. The world's history is full of it and the lessons it teaches. Americancourage, however, is of this nation; it is ours, and if the finestnational spirit is worth the creating; if patriotism is still a qualityto be engendered in our youth; if love of country is still to be astrong power for good, those acts of devotion and of heroic personalsacrifice with which our history is filled, are worthy of earneststudy, of continued contemplation, and of perpetual consideration. 

 "Let him who will, sing deeds done well across the sea, Here, lovely Land, men bravely live and die for Thee. "

The particular example I desire to speak about is of that splendidquality of courage which dares everything not for self or country, butfor an enemy. It is of that kind which is called into existence not bydreams of glory, or by love of land, but by the highest human desire;the desire to mitigate suffering in those who are against us. 

In the afternoon of the day after the battle of Fredericksburg, GeneralKershaw of the Confederate army was sitting in his quarters whensuddenly a young South Carolinian named Kirkland entered, and, afterthe usual salutations, said: "General, I can't stand this. " Thegeneral, thinking the statement a little abrupt, asked what it was hecould not stand, and Kirkland replied: "Those poor fellows out yonderhave been crying for water all day, and I have come to you to ask if Imay go and give them some. " The "poor fellows" were Union soldiers wholay wounded between the Union and Confederate lines. To go to them, Kirkland must go beyond the protection of the breastworks and exposehimself to a fire from the Union sharpshooters, who, so far during thatday, had made the raising above the Confederate works of so much as ahead an act of extreme danger. General Kershaw at first refused toallow Kirkland to go on his errand, but at last, as the lad persistedin his request, declined to forbid him, leaving the responsibility foraction with the boy himself. Kirkland, in perfect delight, rushed fromthe general's quarters to the front, where he gathered all the canteenshe could carry, filled them with water, and going over the breastworks, started to give relief to his wounded enemies. No sooner was he in theopen field than our sharpshooters, supposing he was going to plundertheir comrades, began to fire at him. For some minutes he went aboutdoing good under circumstances of most imminent personal danger. Soon, however, those to whom he was taking the water recognized the characterof his undertaking. All over the field men sat up and called to him, and those too hurt to raise themselves, held up their hands andbeckoned to him. Soon our sharpshooters, who luckily had not hit him, saw that he was indeed an Angel of Mercy, and stopped their fire, andtwo armies looked with admiration at the young man's pluck and loving-kindness. With a beautiful tenderness, Kirkland went about his work, giving of the water to all, and here and there placing a knapsackpillow under some poor wounded fellow's head, or putting in a morecomfortable position some shattered leg or arm. Then he went back tohis own lines and the fighting went on. Tell me of a more exaltedexample of personal courage and self-denial than that of thatConfederate soldier, or one which more clearly deserves the name ofChristian fortitude. In that terrible War of the Rebellion, Kirklandgave up his life for a mistaken cause in the battle of Chickamauga, butI cannot help thanking God that, in our reunited country, we are jointheirs with the men from the South in the glory and inspiration thatcome from such heroic deeds as his. 

THE MINUTEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION

Reprinted, with permission, from "The Orations and Addresses of GeorgeWilliam Curtis, " Vol. III. Copyright, 1894, by Harper and Brothers. 

BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

The Minuteman of the Revolution! And who was he? He was the old, themiddle-aged, and the young. He was the husband and the father, who lefthis plow in the furrow and his hammer on the bench, and marched to dieor be free. He was the son and lover, the plain, shy youth of thesinging school and the village choir, whose heart beat to arms for hiscountry, and who felt, though he could not say with the old Englishcavalier:--

 "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more. "

He was the man who was willing to pour out his life's blood for aprinciple. Intrenched in his own honesty, the king's gold could not buyhim; enthroned in the love of his fellow citizens, the king's writcould not take him; and when, on the morning of Lexington, the king'stroops marched to seize him, his sublime faith saw, beyond the cloudsof the moment, the rising sun of the America we behold, and, carelessof himself, mindful only of his country, he exultingly exclaimed, "Oh, what a glorious morning!" And then, amid the flashing hills, theringing woods, the flaming roads, he smote with terror the haughtyBritish column, and sent it shrinking, bleeding, wavering, and reelingthrough the streets of the village, panic-stricken and broken. 

Him we gratefully recall to-day; him we commit in his immortal youth tothe reverence of our children. And here amid these peaceful fields, --here in the heart of Middlesex County, of Lexington and Concord andBunker Hill, stand fast, Son of Liberty, as the minuteman stood at theold North Bridge. But should we or our descendants, false to justice orhumanity, betray in any way their cause, spring into life as a hundredyears ago, take one more step, descend, and lead us, as God led you insaving America, to save the hopes of man. 

No hostile fleet for many a year has vexed the waters of our coast; noris any army but our own likely to tread our soil. Not such are ourenemies to-day. They do not come, proudly stepping to the drumbeat, their bayonets flashing in the morning sun. But wherever party spiritshall strain the ancient guarantees of freedom; or bigotry andignorance shall lay their fatal hands on education; or the arrogance ofcaste shall strike at equal rights; or corruption shall poison the verysprings of national life, --there, Minuteman of Liberty, are yourLexington Green and Concord Bridge. And as you love your country andyour kind, and would have your children rise up and call you blessed, spare not the enemy. Over the hills, out of the earth, down from theclouds, pour in resistless might. Fire from every rock and tree, fromdoor and window, from hearthstone and chamber. Hang upon his flank frommorn to sunset, and so, through a land blazing with indignation, hurlthe hordes of ignorance and corruption and injustice back--back inutter defeat and ruin. 

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE

Reprinted with permission from "The Orations and Addresses of GeorgeWilliam Curtis, " Vol. III. Copyright 1894, by Harper and Brothers. 

BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

On Tuesday, April 18, 1775, Gage, the royal governor, who had decidedto send a force to Concord to destroy the stores, picketed the roadsfrom Boston into Middlesex, to prevent any report of the intended marchfrom spreading into the country. But the very air was electric. In thetension of the popular mind, every sound and sight was significant. Inthe afternoon, one of the governor's grooms strolled into a stablewhere John Ballard was cleaning a horse. John Ballard was a son ofliberty; and when the groom idly remarked in nervous English "aboutwhat would occur to-morrow, " John's heart leaped and his hand shook, and, asking the groom to finish cleaning the horse, he ran to a friend, who carried the news straight to Paul Revere. 

Gage thought that his secret had been kept, but LordPercy, who had heard the people say on the Common thatthe troops would miss their aim, undeceived him. Gageinstantly ordered that no one should leave the town. ButDr. Warren was before him, and, as the troops crossed theriver, Paul Revere was rowing over the river farther downto Charlestown, having agreed with his friend, RobertNewman, to show lanterns from the belfry of the Old NorthChurch, --

 "One, if by land, and two, if by sea, "

as a signal of the march of the British. It was a brilliant April night. The winter had been unusually mild andthe spring very forward. The hills were already green; the early grainwaved in the fields, and the air was sweet with blossoming orchards. Under the cloudless moon the soldiers silently marched, and Paul Revereswiftly rode, galloping through Medford and West Cambridge, rousingevery house as he went, spurring for Lexington and Hancock and Adams, and evading the British patrols, who had been sent out to stop thenews. 

Stop the news! Already the village church bells were beginning to ringthe alarm, as the pulpits beneath them had been ringing for many ayear. In the awakening houses lights flashed from window to window. Drums beat faintly far away and on every side. Signal guns flashed andechoed. The watchdogs barked; the cocks crew. 

Stop the news! Stop the sunrise! The murmuring night trembled with thesummons so earnestly expected, so dreaded, so desired. And as, longago, the voice rang out at midnight along the Syrian shore, wailingthat great Pan was dead, but in the same moment the choiring angelswhispered, "Glory to God in the highest, for Christ is born, " so, ifthe stern alarm of that April night seemed to many a wistful and loyalheart to portend the passing glory of British dominion and the tragicalchance of war, it whispered to them with prophetic inspiration, "Goodwill to men; America is born!"

There is a tradition that long before the troops reached Lexington anunknown horseman thundered at the door of Captain Joseph Robbins inActon, waking every man and woman and babe in the cradle, shouting thatthe regulars were marching to Concord and that the rendezvous was theold North Bridge. Captain Robbins' son, a boy of ten years, heard thesummons in the garret where he lay, and in a few minutes was on hisfather's old mare, a young Paul Revere, galloping along the road torouse Captain Isaac Davis, who commanded the minutemen of Acton. Thecompany assembled at his shop, formed, and marched a little way, whenhe halted them and returned for a moment to his house. He said to hiswife, "Take good care of the children, " kissed her, turned to his men, gave the order to march, and saw his home no more. Such was the historyof that night in how many homes!

The hearts of those men and women of Middlesex might break, but theycould not waver. They had counted the cost. They knew what and whomthey served; and, as the midnight summons came, they started up andanswered, "Here am I!"

THE ARTS OF THE ANCIENTS

From "Speeches and Lectures, " with the permission of Lothrop, Lee andShepard, Boston, publishers. 

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS

We have a pitying estimate, a tender compassion, for the narrowness, ignorance, and darkness of the bygone ages. We seem to ourselves notonly to monopolize, but to have begun, the era of light. In otherwords, we are all running over with a fourth-day-of-July spirit ofself-content. I am often reminded of the German whom the English poetColeridge met at Frankfort. He always took off his hat with profoundrespect when he ventured to speak of himself. It seems to me, theAmerican people might be painted in the chronic attitude of taking offits hat to itself. 

Considering their employment of the mechanical forces, and theirmovement of large masses from the earth, we know that the Egyptians hadthe five, seven, or three mechanical powers; but we cannot account forthe multiplication and increase necessary to perform the wonders theyaccomplished. 

There is a book telling how Domenico Fontana of the sixteenth centuryset up the Egyptian obelisk at Rome on end, in the Papacy of Sixtus V. Wonderful! Yet the Egyptians quarried that stone, and carried it ahundred and fifty miles, and the Romans brought it seven hundred andfifty miles, and never said a word about it. 

Take canals. The Suez canal absorbs half its receipts in cleaning outthe sand which fills it continually, and it is not yet known whether itis a pecuniary success. The ancients built a canal at right angles toours; because they knew it would not fill up if built in thatdirection, and they knew such a one as ours would. There weremagnificent canals in the land of the Jews, with perfectly arrangedgates and sluices. We have only just begun to understand ventilationproperly for our houses; yet late experiments at the Pyramids in Egyptshow that those Egyptian tombs were ventilated in the most perfect andscientific manner. 

Again, cement is modern, for the ancients dressed and joined theirstones so closely, that, in buildings thousands of years old the thinblade of a penknife cannot be forced between them. The railroad datesback to Egypt. Arago has claimed that they had a knowledge of steam. Apainting has been discovered of a ship full of machinery, and a couldonly be accounted for by supposing the motive power to have been steam. Bramah acknowledges that he took the idea of his celebrated lock froman ancient Egyptian pattern. De Tocqueville says that there was nosocial question that was not discussed to rags in Egypt. 

"Well, " say you, "Franklin invented the lightning rod. " I have no doubthe did; but years before his invention, and before muskets wereinvented, the old soldiers on guard on the towers used Franklin'sinvention to keep guard with; and if a spark passed between them andthe spearhead, they ran and bore the warning of the state and conditionof affairs. After that you will admit that Benjamin Franklin was notthe only one that knew of the presence of electricity, and theadvantages derived from its use. Solomon's Temple you will find wassituated on an exposed point of the hill: the temple was so lofty thatit was often in peril, and was guarded by a system exactly like that ofBenjamin Franklin. 

Well, I may tell you a little of ancient manufactures. The Duchess ofBurgundy took a necklace from the neck of a mummy, and wore it to aball given at the Tuileries; and everybody said they thought it was thenewest thing there. A Hindoo princess came into court; and her father, seeing her, said, "Go home, you are not decently covered, --go home;"and she said, "Father, I have seven suits on;" but the suits were ofmuslin so thin that the king could see through them, A Roman poet says, "the girl was in the poetic dress of the country. " I fancy the Frenchwould be rather astonished at this. Four hundred and fifty years agothe first spinning machine was introduced into Europe. I have evidenceto show that it made its first appearance two thousand years before. 

Why have I groped among these ashes? I have told you these facts toshow you that we have not invented everything--that we do notmonopolize the encyclopedia. The past had knowledge. But it was theknowledge of the classes, not of the masses. "The beauty that wasGreece and the grandeur that was Rome" were exclusive, the possessionof the few. The science of Egypt was amazing; but it meant privilege--the privilege of the king and the priest. It separated royalty andpriesthood from the people, and was the engine of oppression. WhenCambyses came down from Persia and thundered across Egypt, treading outroyalty and priesthood, he trampled out at the same time civilizationitself. 

The distinctive glory of the nineteenth century is that it distributesknowledge; that it recognizes the divine will, which is that every manhas a right to know whatever may be serviceable to himself or to hisfellows; that it makes the church, the schoolhouse, and the town hall, its symbols, and humanity its care. This democratic spirit will animateour arts with immortality, if God means that they shall last. 

A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY

An extract from "A Man Without a Country"

BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE

Philip Nolan was as fine a young officer as there was in the "Legion ofthe West, " as the Western division of our army was then called. WhenAaron Burr made his first dashing expedition down to New Orleans in1805, at Fort Massac, or somewhere above on the river, he met, as thedevil would have it, this gay, dashing, bright young fellow; at somedinner party, I think. Burr marked him, talked to him, walked with him, took him a day or two's voyage in his flatboat, and, in short, fascinated him. For the next year, barrack life was very tame to poorNolan. He occasionally availed himself of the permission the great manhad given him to write to him. Long, high-worded, stilted letters thepoor boy wrote and rewrote and copied. But never a line did he have inreply from the gay deceiver. The other boys in the garrison sneered athim, because he sacrificed in this unrequited affection for apolitician the time which they devoted to Monongahela, hazard, andhigh-low-jack. But one day Nolan had his revenge. This time Burr camedown the river, not as an attorney seeking a place for his office, butas a disguised conquerer. He had defeated I know not how many districtattorneys; he had dined at I know not how many public dinners; he hadbeen heralded in I don't know how many "Weekly Arguses, " and it wasrumored that he had an army behind him and an empire before him. It wasa great day--his arrival--to poor Nolan. Burr had not been at the fortan hour before he sent for him. That evening he asked Nolan to take himout in his skiff, to show him a canebrake or a cottonwood tree, as hesaid--really to seduce him; and by the time the sail was over, Nolanwas enlisted body and soul. From that time, though he did not yet knowit, he lived as A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY. 

What Burr meant to do I know no more than you. It is none of ourbusiness just now. Only, when the grand catastrophe came, and Jeffersonand the House of Virginia of that day undertook to break on the wheelall the possible Clarences of the then House of York, by the greattreason trial at Richmond, some of the lesser fry in that distantMississippi Valley, which was farther from us than Puget's Sound is to-day, introduced the like novelty on their provincial stage; and, towhile away the monotony of the summer at Fort Adams, got up, for"spectacles, " a string of court-martials on the officers there. One andanother of the colonels and majors were tried, and, to fill out thelist, little Nolan, against whom, Heaven knows, there was evidenceenough--that he was sick of the service, had been willing to be falseto it, and would have obeyed any order to march any-whither with anyone who would follow him had the order been signed, "By command of HisExc. A. Burr. " The courts dragged on. The big flies escaped--rightlyfor all I know. Nolan was proved guilty enough, as I say; yet you and Iwould never have heard of him, but that, when the president of thecourt asked him at the close whether he wished to say anything to showthat he had always been faithful to the United States, he cried out, ina fit of frenzy:--"Damn the United States! I wish I may never hear ofthe United States again!"

I suppose he did not know how the words shocked old Colonel Morgan, whowas holding the court. He, on his part, had grown up in the West ofthose days, in the midst of "Spanish plot, " "Orleans plot, " and all therest. He had spent half his youth with an older brother, hunting horsesin Texas; and, in a word, to him "United States" was scarcely areality. Yet he had been fed by "United States" for all the years sincehe had been in the army. He had sworn on his faith as a Christian to betrue to "United States. " It was "United States" which gave him theuniform he wore, and the sword by his side. I do not excuse Nolan; Ionly explain to the reader why he damned his country, and wished hemight never hear her name again. 

He never did hear her name but once again. From that moment, September23, 1807, till the day he died, May 11, 1863, he never heard her nameagain. For that half century and more he was a man without a country. 

Old Morgan, as I said, was terribly shocked. He called the court intohis private room, and returned in fifteen minutes, with a face like asheet, to say:--

"Prisoner, hear the sentence of the court! The court decides, subjectto the approval of the president, that you never hear the name of theUnited States again. "

Nolan laughed. But nobody else laughed. Old Morgan was too solemn, andthe whole room was hushed dead as night for a minute. Even Nolan losthis swagger in a moment. Then Morgan added:--

"Mr. Marshal, take the prisoner to Orleans in an armed boat, anddeliver him to the naval commander there. "

The marshal gave his orders and the prisoner was taken out of court. 

"Mr. Marshal, " continued old Morgan, "see that no one mentions theUnited States to the prisoner. Mr. Marshal, make my respects toLieutenant Mitchell at Orleans, and request him to order that no oneshall mention the United States to the prisoner while he is on boardship. You will receive your written orders from the officer on dutyhere this evening. The court is adjourned without day. "

The plan then adopted was substantially the same which was necessarilyfollowed ever after. The Secretary of the Navy was requested to putNolan on board a government vessel bound on a long cruise, and todirect that he should be only so far confined there as to make itcertain that he never saw or heard of the country. One afternoon a lotof the men sat on the deck smoking and reading aloud. Well, so ithappened that in his turn Nolan took the book and read to the others;and he read very well. Nobody in the circle knew a line of the poem, only it was all magic and Border chivalry, and was ten thousand yearsago. Poor Nolan read steadily through the fifth canto without a thoughtof what was coming:--

 "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, "--

It seems impossible to us that anybody ever heard this for the firsttime; but all these fellows did then, and poor Nolan himself went on, still unconsciously or mechanically:--

 "This is my own, my native land!"

Then they all saw something was to pay; but he expected to get through, I suppose, turned a little pale, but plunged on:--

 "Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?-- If such there breathe, go, mark him well, "--

By this time the men were all beside themselves, wishing there was anyway to make him turn over two pages; but he had not quite presence ofmind for that; he gagged a little, colored crimson, and staggered on:--

 "For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, Despite these titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, "--

and here the poor fellow choked, could not go on, but started up, swungthe book into the sea, vanished into his stateroom, and we did not seehim for two months again. He never entered in with the young menexactly as a companion again; but generally he had the nervous, tiredlook of a heart-wounded man. 

And when Nolan died, there was found in his Bible a slip of paper atthe place where he had marked the text:--

"They desire a country, even a heavenly; wherefore God is not ashamedto be called their God; for He hath prepared for them a city. "

On this slip of paper he had written:--

"Bury me in the sea; it has been my home, and I love it. But will notsome one set up a stone for my memory at Fort Adams or at Orleans, thatmy disgrace may not be more than I ought to bear? Say on it:-- "In Memory of "PHILIP NOLAN, "_Lieutenant in the Army of the United States_. "He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved less at her hands. "

THE EXECUTION OF RODRIGUEZ

From "Cuba in War Time, " with the author's permission

BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS

Adolfo Rodriguez was the only son of a Cuban farmer. When therevolution broke out, young Rodriguez joined the insurgents, leavinghis father and mother and two sisters at the farm. He was taken by theSpanish, was tried by a military court for bearing arms against thegovernment, and sentenced to be shot by a fusillade some morning beforesunrise. His execution took place a half mile distant from the city, onthe great plain that stretches from the forts out to the hills, beyondwhich Rodriguez had lived for nineteen years. 

There had been a full moon the night preceding the execution, and whenthe squad of soldiers marched out from town, it was still shiningbrightly through the mists. It lighted a plain two miles in extentbroken by ridges and gullies and covered with thick, high grass andwith bunches of cactus and palmetto. 

The execution was quickly finished with rough, and, but for onefrightful blunder, with merciful swiftness. The crowd fell back when itcame to the square of soldiery, and the condemned man, the priests, andthe firing squad of six young volunteers passed in and the lines closedbehind them. 

Rodriguez bent and kissed the cross which the priest held up beforehim. He then walked to where the officer directed him to stand, andturned his back to the square and faced the hills and the road acrossthem which led to his father's farm. As the officer gave the firstcommand he straightened himself as far as the cords would allow, andheld up his head and fixed his eyes immovably on the morning lightwhich had just begun to show above the hills. 

The officer had given the order, the men had raised their pieces, andthe condemned man had heard the clicks of the triggers as they werepulled back, and he had not moved. And then happened one of the mostcruelly refined, though unintentional, acts of torture that one canvery well imagine. As the officer slowly raised his sword, preparatoryto giving the signal, one of the mounted officers rode up to him andpointed out silently--the firing squad were so placed that when theyfired they would shoot several of the soldiers stationed on the extremeend of the square. 

Their captain motioned his men to lower their pieces, and then walkedacross the grass and laid his hand on the shoulder of the waitingprisoner. It is not pleasant to think what that shock must have been. The man had steeled himself to receive a volley of bullets in the back. He believed that in the next instant he would be in another world; hehad heard the command given, had heard the click of the Mausers as thelocks caught--and then, at that supreme moment, a human hand had beenlaid upon his shoulder and a voice spoke in his ear. 

You would expect that any man who had been snatched back to life insuch a fashion would start and tremble at the reprieve, or would breakdown altogether, but this boy turned his head steadily, and followedwith his eyes the direction of the officer's sword, then nodded hishead gravely, and with his shoulders squared, took up a new position, straightened his back again, and once more held himself erect. As anexhibition of self-control this should surely rank above feats ofheroism performed in battle, where there are thousands of comrades togive inspiration. This man was alone, in sight of the hills he knew, with only enemies about him, with no source to draw on for strength butthat which lay within himself. 

The officer of the firing squad, mortified by his blunder, hastilywhipped up his sword, the men once more leveled their rifles, the swordrose, dropped, and the men fired. At the report the Cuban's headsnapped back almost between his shoulders, but his body fell slowly, asthough some one had pushed him gently forward from behind and he hadstumbled. He sank on his side in the wet grass without a struggle orsound, and did not move again. 

At that moment the sun, which had shown some promise of its coming inthe glow above the hills, shot up suddenly from behind them in all thesplendor of the tropics, a fierce, red disk of heat, and filled the airwith warmth and light. 

THE INFORMAL DISCUSSION

THE FLOOD OF BOOKS

From "Essays in Application, " with the permission of Charles Scribner'sSons, New York, publishers. 

BY HENRY VAN DYKE

There is the highest authority for believing that a man's life, eventhough he be an author, consists not in the abundance of things that hepossesses. Rather is its real value to be sought in the quality of theideas and feelings that possess him, and in the effort to embody themin his work. 

The work is the great thing. The delight of clear and steady thought, of free and vivid imagination, of pure and strong emotion; thefascination of searching for the right words, which sometimes come inshoals like herring, so that the net can hardly contain them, and atother times are more shy and fugacious than the wary trout which refuseto be lured from their hiding places; the pleasure of putting the fitphrase in the proper place, of making a conception stand out plain andfirm with no more and no less than is needed for its expression, ofdoing justice to an imaginary character so that it shall have its ownlife and significance in the world of fiction, of working a plot or anargument clean through to its inevitable close: these inward andunpurchasable joys are the best wages of the men and women who write. 

What more will they get? Well, unless history forgets to repeat itself, their additional wages, their personal dividends under the profit-sharing system, so to speak, will be various. Some will probably getmore than they deserve, others less. 

The next best thing to the joy of work is the winning of gentle readersand friends who find some good in your book, and are grateful for it, and think kindly of you for writing it. 

The next best thing to that is the recognition, on the part of peoplewho know, that your work is well done, and of fine quality. That iscalled fame, or glory, and the writer who professes to care nothing forit is probably deceiving himself, or else his liver is out of order. Real reputation, even of a modest kind and of a brief duration, is agood thing; an author ought to be able to be happy without it, buthappier with it. 

EFFECTIVENESS IN SPEAKING

From the Introduction to "The World's Famous Orations, " with thepermission of Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York and London, publishers. 

BY WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN

While it is absolutely necessary for the orator to master his subjectand to speak with earnestness, his speech can be made more effective bythe addition of clearness, brevity and apt illustrations. 

Clearness of statement is of very great importance. It is notsufficient to say that there are certain self-evident truths; it ismore accurate to say that all truth is self-evident. Because truth isself-evident, the best service that one can render a truth is to stateit so clearly that it can be comprehended, needs no argument in itssupport. In debate, therefore, one's first effort should be to statehis own side so clearly and concisely as to make the principlesinvolved easily understood. His second object should be so to divesthis opponent's argument of useless verbiage as to make it stand forthclearly; for as truth is self-evident, so error bears upon its face itsown condemnation. Error needs only to be exposed to be overthrown. 

Brevity of statement also contributes to the force of a speaker. It ispossible so to enfold a truth in long-drawn-out sentences aspractically to conceal it. The epigram is powerful because it is fullof meat and short enough to be remembered. To know when to stop isalmost as important as to know where to begin and how to proceed. Theability to condense great thoughts into small words and brief sentencesis an attribute of genius. Often one lays down a book with the feelingthat the author has "said nothing with elaboration, " while in perusinganother book one finds a whole sermon in a single sentence, or anunanswerable argument couched in a well-turned phrase. 

The interrogatory is frequently employed by the orator, and when wiselyused is irresistible. What dynamic power for instance, there is in thatquestion propounded by Christ, "What shall it profit a man if he gainthe whole world and lose his own soul?" Volumes could not havepresented so effectively the truth that he sought to impress upon hishearers. 

The illustration has no unimportant place in the equipment of theorator. We understand a thing more easily when we know that it is likesomething which we have already seen. Illustrations may be drawn fromtwo sources--nature and literature--and of the two, those from naturehave the greater weight. All learning is valuable; all history isuseful. By knowing what has been we can better judge the future; byknowing how men have acted heretofore we can understand how they willact again in similar circumstances. But people know nature better thanthey know books, and the illustrations drawn from everyday life are themost effective. 

If the orator can seize upon something within the sight or hearing ofhis audience, --something that comes to his notice at the moment and asif not thought of before, --it will add to the effectiveness of theillustration. For instance, Paul's speech to the Athenians derived alarge part of its strength from the fact that he called attention to analtar near by, erected "to the Unknown God, " and then proceeded todeclare unto them the God whom they ignorantly worshiped. 

Abraham Lincoln used scripture quotations very frequently and verypowerfully. Probably no Bible quotation, or, for that matter, noquotation from any book ever has had more influence upon a people thanthe famous quotation made by Lincoln in his Springfield speech of1858, --"A house divided against itself cannot stand. " It is said thathe had searched for some time for a phrase which would present in thestrongest possible way the proposition he intended to advance--namely, that the nation could not endure half slave and half free. 

It is a compliment to a public speaker that the audience should discusswhat he says rather than his manner of saying it; more complimentarythat they should remember his arguments, than that they should praisehis rhetoric. The orator should seek to conceal himself behind hissubject. If he presents himself in every speech he is sure to becomemonotonous, if not offensive. If, however, he focuses attention uponhis subject, he can find an infinite number of themes and, therefore, give variety to his speech. 

BOOKS, LITERATURE, AND THE PEOPLE

From "Essays in Application, " with the permission of Charles Scribner'sSons, New York, publishers. 

BY HENRY VAN DYKE

Every one knows what books are. But what is literature? It is the arkon the flood. It is the light on the candlestick. It is the floweramong the leaves; the consummation of the plant's vitality, the crownof its beauty, and the treasure house of its seeds. It is hard todefine, easy to describe. 

Literature is made up of those writings which translate the innermeanings of nature and life, in language of distinction and charm, touched with the personality of the author, into artistic forms ofpermanent interest. The best literature, then, is that which has thedeepest significance, the most lucid style, the most vividindividuality, and the most enduring form. 

On the last point contemporary judgment is but guess-work, but on thethree other points it should not be impossible to form, nor improper toexpress, a definite opinion. 

Literature has its permanent marks. It is a connected growth, and itslife history is unbroken. Masterpieces have never been produced by menwho have had no masters. Reverence for good work is the foundation ofliterary character. The refusal to praise bad work, or to imitate it, is an author's personal chastity. 

Good work is the most honorable and lasting thing in the world. Fourelements enter into good work in literature:--An original impulse--notnecessarily a new idea, but a new sense of the value of an idea. Afirst-hand study of the subject and the material. A patient, joyful, unsparing labor for the perfection of form. A human aim--to cheer, console, purify, or ennoble the life of the people. Without this aimliterature has never sent an arrow close to the mark. It is only bygood work that men of letters can justify their right to a place in theworld. The father of Thomas Carlyle was a stonemason, whose walls stoodtrue and needed no rebuilding. Carlyle's prayer was, "Let me write mybooks as he built his houses. "

EDUCATION FOR BUSINESS

From an address before the New York Chamber of Commerce, 1890

BY CHARLES WILLIAM ELIOT

Before we can talk together to advantage about the value of educationin business, we ought to come to a common understanding about the sortof education we mean and the sort of business. 

We must not think of the liberal education of to-day as dealing with adead past--with dead languages, buried peoples, exploded philosophies;on the contrary, everything which universities now teach is quick withlife and capable of application to modern uses. They teach indeed thelanguages and literature of Judea, Greece, and Rome; but it is becausethose literatures are instinct with eternal life. They teachmathematics, but it is mathematics mostly created within the lifetimeof the older men here present. In teaching English, French, and German, they are teaching the modern vehicles of all learning--just what Latinwas in medieval times. As to history, political science, and naturalscience, the subjects, and all the methods by which they are taught, may properly be said to be new within a century. Liberal education isnot to be justly regarded as something dry, withered, and effete; it isas full of sap as the cedars of Lebanon. 

And what sort of business do we mean? Surely the larger sorts oflegitimate and honorable business; that business which is of advantageboth to buyer and seller, and to producer, distributor, and consumeralike, whether individuals or nations, which makes common some usefulthing which has been rare, or makes accessible to the masses goodthings which have been within reach only of the few--I wish I could saysimply which make dear things cheap; but recent political connotationsof the word cheap forbid. We mean that great art of production andexchange which through the centuries has increased human comfort, cherished peace, fostered the fine arts, developed the pregnantprinciple of associated action, and promoted both public security andpublic liberty. 

With this understanding of what we mean by education on the one handand business on the other, let us see if there can be any doubt as tothe nature of the relations between them. The business man in largeaffairs requires keen observation, a quick mental grasp of newsubjects, and a wide range of knowledge. Whence come these powers andattainments--either to the educated or to the uneducated--save throughpractice and study? But education is only early systematic practice andstudy under guidance. The object of all good education is to developjust these powers--accuracy in observation, quickness and certainty inseizing upon the main points of new subjects, and discrimination inseparating the trivial from the important in great masses of facts. This is what liberal education does for the physician, the lawyer, theminister, and the scientist. This is what it can do also for the man ofbusiness; to give a mental power is one of the main ends of the highereducation. Is not active business a field in which mental power findsfull play? Again, education imparts knowledge, and who has greater needto know economics, history, and natural science than the man of largebusiness?

Further, liberal education develops a sense of right, duty, and honor;and more and more, in the modern world, large business rests onrectitude and honor, as well as on good judgment. Education does thisthrough the contemplation and study of the moral ideals of our race;not in drowsiness or dreaminess or in mere vague enjoyment of poeticand religious abstractions, but in the resolute purpose to applyspiritual ideals to actual life. The true university fosters ideals, but always to urge that they be put into practice in the real world. When the universities hold up before their youth the great Semiticideals which were embodied in the Decalogue, they mean that thoseideals should be applied in politics. When they teach their young menthat Asiatic ideal of unknown antiquity, the Golden Rule, they meanthat their disciples shall apply it to business; when they inculcatethat comprehensive maxim of Christian ethics, "Ye are all members ofone another, " they mean that this moral principle is applicable to allhuman relations, whether between individuals, families, states, ornations. 

THE BEGINNINGS OF AMERICAN ORATORY

From the author's lectures on oratory, with his permission

BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

It is a singular fact that the three leaders of the revolution, in theMassachusetts colony, John Adams, Sam Adams, and Oxenbridge Thatcher, were all trained originally to be clergymen, and all afterwardsdetermined to be lawyers, and get their legal training in addition. John Adams did it; Oxenbridge Thatcher did it. Sam Adams's parents heldso hard to the doctrine that the law was a disreputable profession thatthey never allowed him to enter it. He went into business, but beforehe got through, mixed himself up with legal questions more than the twoothers put together. And what is more, and what has only lately beenbrought out distinctly, there existed in the southern coloniesrepresented by Virginia very much the same feeling, only coming from adifferent source. It was not a question of church membership or ofecclesiastical training--the southern colonies never troubledthemselves very much about those things--but turned upon a whollydifferent thing. The southern colonies were based on land ownership;the aim was to build up a type of society like the English type, anaristocratic system of landowners as in England. And thesemiscellaneous men who, without owning large estates or large numbers ofslaves, came forward to try cases in court, were regarded with the samesort of suspicion which the same class had to meet in Massachusetts. 

Patrick Henry, the greatest of Virginians for the purpose for whichProvidence had marked him out, was always regarded by Jefferson in verymuch the same light in which Sam Adams was by his uncles, who wereafraid he wanted to be a lawyer. Henry was regarded as a man from thepeople, an irregularly trained man. Jefferson, you will find, criticizes his pronunciation severely. He talked about "yearth" insteadof "earth. " He said that a man's "nateral" parts needed to be improvedby "eddication. " Jefferson had traveled in Europe and talked withcultivated men in other countries. He did not do that sort of thing, and he, not being a man of the most generous or candid nature, alwaystries to make us think that Patrick Henry was a nobody who had verylittle practice. And it was not until the admirable life of him writtenfor the "American Statesmen" series by my predecessor in thislectureship, Moses Coit Tyler, whose loss we so greatly mourn, that itwas clearly made out that, on the contrary, he had an immense legalpractice and was wonderfully successful in a great variety of cases. 

So, both North and South, there was this antagonism to this new classcoming forward; and yet that new class stepped forward and took theleadership of the American Revolution. Not that the clergy were falseto their duty. They did their duty well. There is a book by J. WingateThornton, called "The Clergy of the American Revolution, " whichcontains an admirable and powerful series of sermons by those veryclergymen whom I have criticized for their limitations. They did theirpart admirably, and yet one sees as time goes on that the lawyers aretaking matters into their own hands. 

But the change was not always a benefit to the style of oratory. It wasa period of somewhat formal style; it was not a period when the Englishlanguage was reaching to its highest sources. You will be surprised tofind, for instance, in the books and addresses of that period howlittle Shakespeare is quoted, how much oftener much inferior poets. InEdmund Burke's orations he quotes Shakespeare very little; and EdmundBurke's orations are interesting especially for this, that they are notprobably the original addresses which he gave, are literature ratherthan oratory, and are now generally supposed to have been written outafterwards. 

Like Burke most of the orators of that period have a certain formalstyle. When all is said and done, the clergy got a certain pithinessfrom that terrific habit they had of going back every little while andpinning down their thought with a text. One English clergyman of theperiod compared his text to a horse block on which he ascended when hewished to mount his horse, and then he rode his horse as long as hewished and might or might not come back to that horse block again. Therefore we see in the oratory of that time a certain formality. 

Moreover, in the absence of the modern reporter, we really do not knowexactly what was said in the greatest speeches of that day. The modernreporter, whose aim is to report everything that is said, and whogenerally succeeds in putting in a great many fine things which haven'toccurred to the orators--the modern reporter was not known, and we havebut very few descriptions even of the great orations. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, THE MAN

From the author's lectures on oratory, with his permission

BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

It happened to me, when I was in college, to be once on some businessat an office on State Street in Boston, then as now the centralbusiness street of the place, in a second-story office where there werea number of young men writing busily at their desks. Presently one ofthe youths, passing by accident across the room, stopped suddenly andsaid, --

"There is Daniel Webster!"

In an instant every desk in that room was vacated, every pane in everywindow was filled with a face looking out, and I, hastening up behindthem, found it difficult to get a view of the street so densely hadthey crowded round it. And once looking out, I saw all up and down thestreet, in every window I could see, just the same mass of eager facesbehind the windows. Those faces were all concentrated on a certainfigure, a farmer-like, sunburned man who stood, roughly clothed, withhis hands behind him, speaking to no one, looking nowhere inparticular; waiting, so far as I could see, for nothing, with broadshoulders and heavy muscles, and the head of a hero above. Such a brow, such massive formation, such magnificent black eyes, such straightblack eyebrows I had never seen before. 

That man, it appeared, was Daniel Webster! I saw people go along thestreet sidling along past him, looking up at him as if he were theStatue of Liberty Enlightening the World in New York harbor. Nobodyknew what he wanted, it never was explained; he may have been merelywaiting for some companion to go fishing. But there he was, there hestands in my memory. I don't know what happened afterwards, or howthese young men ever got back to their desks--if they ever did. 

For me, however, that figure was revealed by one brief duplicateimpression, which came in a few months afterwards when I happened to beout in Brookline, a suburb of Boston, where people used to drive then, as they drive now, on summer afternoons for afternoon tea--only, afternoon tea not having been invented, they drove out to theirneighbors' houses for fruit or a cup of chocolate. 

You have heard Boston perhaps called the "Hub of the universe. " A lady, not a Bostonian, once said that if Boston were the hub of the universe, Brookline ought to be called the "Sub-hub. " In the "sub-hub" I wassitting in the house of a kinsman who had a beautiful garden; who wasthe discoverer, in fact, of the Boston nectarine, which all the worldcame to his house to taste. I heard voices in the drawing-room and wentin there. And there I saw again before me the figure of that day onState street, but it was the figure of a man with a beamingly good-natured face, seated in a solid chair brought purposely to accommodatehis weight, sitting there with the simple culinary provision of a cupof chocolate in his hand. 

It so happened that the great man, the godlike Daniel, as the peopleused to call him, had expressed the very mortal wish for a little moresugar in his chocolate; and I, if you please, was the fortunate youthwho, passing near him, was selected as the Ganymede to bring to him therefreshment desired. I have felt ever since that I, at least, wasprivileged to put one drop of sweetness into the life of that greatman, a life very varied and sometimes needing refreshment. And I havesince been given by my classmates to understand--I find they recall itto this day--that upon walking through the college yard for a week ortwo after that opportunity, I carried my head so much higher than usualas to awaken an amount of derision which undoubtedly, if it had been atWest Point, would have led to a boxing match. 

That was Daniel Webster, one of the two great lawyers of Boston--Imight almost say, of the American bar at that time. 

THE ENDURING VALUE OF SPEECH

From the author's lectures on oratory, with his permission

BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

The Englishman, as far as I have observed, as a rule gets up withreluctance, and begins with difficulty. Just as you are beginning tofeel seriously anxious for him, you gradually discover that he is onthe verge of saying some uncommonly good thing. Before you are fullyprepared for it he says that good thing, and then to your infiniteamazement he sits down!

The American begins with an ease which relieves you of all anxiety. Theanxiety begins when he talks a while without making any special point. He makes his point at last, as good perhaps as the Englishman's, possibly better. But then when he has made it, you find that he goes onfeeling for some other good point, and he feels and feels so long, thatperhaps he sits down at last without having made it. 

My ideal of a perfect speech in public would be that it should beconducted by a syndicate or trust, as it were, of the two nations, andthat the guaranty should be that an American should be provided tobegin every speech and an Englishman provided to end it. 

Then, when we go a little farther and consider the act of speechitself, and its relation to the word, we sometimes meet with a doubtthat we see expressed occasionally in the daily papers provided for uswith twenty pages per diem and thirty-two on Sunday, whether we willneed much longer anything but what is called sometimes by clergymen"the printed word"--whether the whole form of communication throughoral speech will not diminish or fade away. 

It seems to me a truly groundless fear--like wondering whether therewill ever be a race with only one arm or one leg, or a race of peoplewho live only by the eye or by the ear. The difference between thewritten word and the spoken word is the difference between solitude andcompanionship, between meditation and something so near action that itis at least halfway to action and creates action. It is perfectlysupposable to imagine a whole race of authors of whom not one shouldever exchange a word with a human being while his greatest work isbeing produced. 

The greatest work of American literature, artistically speaking, Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter, " was thus produced. His wife records thatduring the year that he was writing it, he shut himself up in his studyevery day. She asked no questions; he volunteered no information. Sheonly knew that something was going on by the knot in his forehead whichhe carried all that year. At the end of the year he came from his studyand read over to her the whole book; a work of genius was added to theworld. It was the fruit of solitude. 

And sometimes solitude, I regret as an author to say, extends to theperusal of the book, for I have known at least one volume of poems ofwhich not a copy was ever sold; and I know another of which only onecopy was sold through my betraying the secret of the author andmentioning the book to a classmate, who bought that one copy. 

Therefore, in a general way, we may say that literature speaks in amanner the voice of solitude. As soon as the spoken word comes in, youhave companionship. There can be no speech without at least one personpresent, if it is only the janitor of the church. Dean Swift in readingthe Church of England service to his manservant only, adapted theservice as follows: "Dearly beloved Roger, the Scripture moveth theeand me in sundry places, " etc. ; but in that very economy of speech herealized the presence of an audience. It takes a speaker and anaudience together to make a speech--I can say to you what I could notfirst have said to myself. "The sea of upturned faces, " as DanielWebster said, borrowing the phrase, however, from Scott's "Rob Roy"--"the sea of upturned faces makes half the speech. " And therefore we mayassume that there will always be this form of communication. It has, both for the speaker and for the audience, this one vast advantage. 

TO COLLEGE GIRLS

From "Girls and Education, " by permission of, and by specialarrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers ofthis author's works. 

BY LE BARON RUSSELL BRIGGS

I doubt whether any one has told more effectively what a college may dofor a girl's mind than Dr. Thomas Fuller. In his "Church History ofBritain" he gives a short chapter to "The Conveniency of She-Colleges. "(I once quoted this chapter at Smith College, and was accused of makingit up. ) "Nunneries also, " he observes, "were good She-Schools, whereinthe girls and maids of the neighborhood were taught to read and work;and sometimes a little Latin was taught them therein. Yea, give meleave to say, if such feminine foundations had still continued, haplythe weaker sex might be heightened to a higher perfection than hithertohath been attained. That sharpness of their wits, and suddenness oftheir conceits, which their enemies must allow unto them, might byeducation be improved into a judicious solidity. "

The feminine mind, with its quick intuitions and unsteady logic, maykeep the intuitions and gain a firmness which makes it more thantransiently stimulating. The emotional mind has its charm, especiallyif its emotions are favorable to ourselves. 

In some things it may be well that emotion is greater than logic; butemotion _in logic_ is sad to contend with, sad even to contemplate--andsuch is too often the reasoning of the untrained woman. Do not for amoment suppose that I believe such reasoning peculiar to women; butfrom the best men it has been in great measure trained out. 

In a right-minded, sound-hearted girl, college training tends towardcontrol of the nervous system; and control of the nervous system--making it servant and not master--is almost the supreme need of women. Without such control they become helpless; with it they know scarcely alimit to their efficiency. The world does not yet understand that forthe finest and highest work it looks and must look to the naturallysensitive, whether women or men. I remember expressing to the lateProfessor Greenough regret that a certain young teacher was nervous. His answer has been a comfort to me ever since. "I wouldn't give tencents for any one who isn't. " The nervous man or woman is bound tosuffer; but the nervous man or woman may rise to heights that thenaturally calm can never reach and can seldom see. To whom do you gofor counsel? To the calm, no doubt; but never to the phlegmatic-neverto the calm who are calm because they know no better (like the man inRuskin "to whom the primrose is very accurately the primrose because hedoes not love it"). You go to the calm who have fought for theircalmness, who have known what it is to quiver in every nerve, but haveput through whatever they have taken in hand. 

There are numberless sweet and patient women who never studied beyondthe curriculum of the district school, women who help every one nearthem by their own unselfish loveliness; but the intelligently patient, the women who can put themselves into the places of all sorts ofpeople, who can sympathize not merely with great and manifest griefs, but with every delicate jarring of the human soul--hardest of all, withthe ambitions of the dull--these women, who must command a respectintellectual as well as moral, reach their highest efficiency throughexperience based on college training. 

College life, designed as it is to strengthen a girl's intellect andcharacter, should teach her to understand better, and not worse, herself as distinguished from other beings of her own sex or theopposite, should fortify her individuality, her power of resisting, andher determination to resist, the contagion of the unwomanly. Exaggerated study may lessen womanly charm; but there is nothing loudor masculine about it. Nor should we judge mental training or anythingelse by scattered cases of its abuse. The only characteristics of womenthat the sensible college girl has lost are feminine frivolity, andthat kind of headless inaccuracy in thought and speech which oncewithheld from the sex--or from a large part of it--the intellectualrespect of educated men. 

At college, if you have lived rightly, you have found enough learningto make you humble, enough friendship to make your hearts large andwarm, enough culture to teach you the refinement of simplicity, enoughwisdom to keep you sweet in poverty and temperate in wealth. Here youhave learned to see great and small in their true relation, to look atboth sides of a question, to respect the point of view of every honestman or woman, and to recognize the point of view that differs mostwidely from your own. Here you have found the democracy that excludesneither poor nor rich, and the quick sympathy that listens to all andhelps by the very listening. Here too, it may be at the end of a longstruggle, you have seen--if only in transient glimpses--that afterdoubt comes reverence, after anxiety peace, after faintness courage, and that out of weakness we are made strong. Suffer these glimpses tobecome an abiding vision, and you have the supreme joy of life. 

THE ART OF ACTING

From an address to the students of Harvard University, 1885. Publishedin "The Drama; Addresses by Henry Irving, " William Heinemann, London, publisher, 1893

BY HENRY IRVING

What is the art of acting? I speak of it in its highest sense, as theart to which Roscius, Betterton, and Garrick owed their fame. It is theart of embodying the poet's creations, of giving them flesh and blood, of making the figures which appeal to your mind's eye in the printeddrama live before you on the stage. "To fathom the depths of character, to trace its latent motives, to feel its finest quiverings of emotion, to comprehend the thoughts that are hidden under words, and thuspossess one's self of the actual mind of the individual man"--such wasMacready's definition of the player's art; and to this we may add thetestimony of Talma. He describes tragic acting as "the union ofgrandeur without pomp and nature without triviality. " It demands, hesays, the endowment of high sensibility and intelligence. 

You will readily understand from this that to the actor the well-wornmaxim that art is long and life is short has a constant significance. The older we grow the more acutely alive we are to the difficulties ofour craft. I cannot give you a better illustration of this fact than astory which is told of Macready. A friend of mine, once a dear friendof his, was with him when he played Hamlet for the last time. Thecurtain had fallen, and the great actor was sadly thinking that thepart he loved so much would never be his again. And as he took off hisvelvet mantle and laid it aside, he muttered almost unconsciously thewords of Horatio, "Good-night, sweet Prince" then turning to hisfriend, "Ah, " said he, "I am just beginning to realise the sweetness, the tenderness, the gentleness of this dear Hamlet!" Believe me, thetrue artist never lingers fondly upon what he has done. He is everthinking of what remains undone: ever striving toward an ideal it maynever be his fortune to attain. 

It is often supposed that great actors trust to the inspiration of themoment. Nothing can be more erroneous. There will, of course, be suchmoments, when an actor at a white heat illumines some passage with aflash of imagination (and this mental condition, by the way, isimpossible to the student sitting in his armchair); but the greatactor's surprises are generally well weighed, studied, and balanced. Weknow that Edmund Kean constantly practiced before a mirror effectswhich startled his audience by their apparent spontaneity. It is theaccumulation of such effects which enables an actor, after many years, to present many great characters with remarkable completeness. 

I do not want to overstate the case, or to appeal to anything that isnot within common experience, so I can confidently ask you whether ascene in a great play has not been at some time vividly impressed onyour minds by the delivery of a single line, or even of one forcibleword. Has not this made the passage far more real and human to you thanall the thought you have devoted to it? An accomplished critic has saidthat Shakespeare himself might have been surprised had he heard the"Fool, fool, fool!" of Edmund Kean. And though all actors are notKeans, they have in varying degree this power of making a dramaticcharacter step out of the page, and come nearer to our hearts and ourunderstandings. 

After all, the best and most convincing exposition of the whole art ofacting is given by Shakespeare himself: "To hold, as 'twere, the mirrorup to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, andthe very age and body of the time his form and pressure. " Thus the poetrecognized the actor's art as a most potent ally in the representationof human life. He believed that to hold the mirror up to nature was oneof the worthiest functions in the sphere of labor, and actors arecontent to point to his definition of their work as the charter oftheir privileges. 

ADDRESS TO THE FRESHMAN CLASS AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY

From "The Harvard Graduates Magazine"

BY CHARLES WILLIAM ELIOT

Just in the last few years we have had a striking illustration ofstrong reaction against prevailing educational policies. There has comeupon us right here on these grounds and among Harvard's constituents, and widespread over the country as well, a distrust of freedom forstudents, of freedom for citizens, of freedom for backward races ofmen. This is one of the striking phenomena of our day, a distrust offreedom. 

Now, there is no moment in life when there comes a greater suddenaccess of freedom than this moment in which you find yourselves. Whenyoung men come to an American college, I care not at all whichcollege--to any American college from the parents' home or from school, they experience a tremendous access of freedom. Is it an injury? Is it adanger? Are you afraid of it? Has society a right to be afraid of it?What is freedom for? What does it do for us? Does it hurt us or helpus? Do we grow in it, or do we shrink in it? That is quite an importantquestion in the management of Harvard University. It is the importantquestion in modern government. It is pretty clear that when young menor old men are free, they make mistakes, and they go wrong; havingfreedom to do right or wrong, they often do right and they often dowrong. When you came hither, you found yourselves in possession of anew freedom. You can overeat yourselves, for example; you canoverdrink; you can take no care for sleep; you can take no exercise ortoo much; you can do little work or too much; you can indulge inharmful amusements: in short, you have a great new freedom here. Is ita good thing for you or a bad thing? Clearly you can go astray, for theroad is not fenced. You can make mistakes; you can fall into sin. Haveyou learned to control yourselves? Have you got the will-power in youto regulate your own conduct? Can you be your own taskmaster? You havebeen in the habit of looking to parents, perhaps, or to teachers, or tothe heads of your boarding schools or your day schools for control inall these matters. Have you got it in yourselves to control yourselves?That is the prime question which comes up with regard to every one ofyou when you come to the University. Have you the sense and theresolution to regulate your own conduct?

It is pretty clear that in other spheres freedom is dangerous. How isit with free political institutions? Do they always yield the bestgovernment? Look at the American cities and compare them with thecities of Europe. Clearly, free institutions do not necessarily producethe best government. Are then free institutions wrong or inexpedient?What is freedom for? Why has God made men free, as he has not made theplants and the animals? Is freedom dangerous? Yes! but it is necessaryto the growth of human character, and that is what we are all in theworld for, and that is what you and your like are in college for. Thatis what the world was made for, for the occupation of men who infreedom through trial win character. It is choice which makes thedignity of human nature. It is habitual choosing after examination, consideration, reflection, and advice, which makes the man of power. Itis through the internal motive power of the will that men imagine, invent, and thrust thoughts out into the obscure beyond, into thefuture. The will is the prime motive power; and you can only train yourwills, in freedom. That is what freedom is for, in school and college, in society, industries, and governments. Fine human character is theultimate object, and freedom is the indispensable condition of itsdevelopment. 

Now, there are some clear objects for choice here in college, for realchoice, for discreet choice. I will mention only two. In the firstplace, choose those studies--there is a great range of them here--whichwill, through your interest in them, develop your working power. Youknow it is only through work that you can achieve anything, either incollege or in the world. Choose those studies on which you can workintensely with pleasure, with real satisfaction and happiness. That isthe true guide to a wise choice. Choose that intellectual pursuit whichwill develop within you the power to do enthusiastic work, an internalmotive power, not an external compulsion. Then choose an ennoblingcompanionship. You will find out in five minutes that this man stirsyou to good, that man to evil. Shun the latter; cling to the former. Choose companionship rightly, choose your whole surroundings so thatthey shall lift you up and not drag you down. Make these two choiceswisely, and be faithful in labor, and you will succeed in college andin after life. 

WITH TENNYSON AT FARRINGFORD

From "Alfred Lord Tennyson, A Memoir by His Son, " with the permissionof The Macmillan Company, New York and London, publishers. 

Before leaving for Aldworth we spent some delightful sunny days in theFarringford gardens. In the afternoons my father sat in his summerhouseand talked to us and his friends. 

This spring he had enjoyed seeing the unusually splendid blossom ofapple and pear tree, of white lilacs, and of purple aubretia thatbordered the walks. 

At intervals he strolled to the bottom of the kitchen garden to look atthe roses, or at the giant fig tree ("like a breaking wave, " as hesaid) bursting into leaf; or he marked the "branching grace" of thestately line of elms, between the boles of which, from his summerhouse, he caught a glimpse of far meadows beyond. He said that he did notbelieve in Emerson's pretty lines:--

 "Only to children children sing, Only to youth the Spring is Spring. "

"For age does feel the joy of spring, though age can only crawl overthe bridge while youth skips the brook. " His talk was grave and gaytogether. In the middle of anecdotes he would stop short and saysomething of what he felt to be the sadness and mystery of life. 

What impressed all his friends was his choice of language, the felicityof his turns of expression, his imagery, the terseness of his unadornedEnglish, and his simple directness of manner, which none will ever beable to reproduce, however many notes they may have taken. His dignityand repose of manner, his low musical voice, and the power of hismagnetic dark eye kept the attention riveted. His argument was clearand logical and never wandered from the point except by way ofillustration, and his illustrations were the most various I have everheard, and were taken from nature and science, from high and low life, from the rich and from the poor, and his analysis of character wasalways subtle and powerful. 

While he talked of the mysteries of the universe, his face, full of thestrong lines of thought, was lighted up; and his words glowed as itwere with inspiration. 

When conversing with my brother and myself or our college friends, hewas, I used to think, almost at his best, for he would quote us thefine passages from ancient or modern literature and show us why theyare fine, or he would tell us about the great facts and discoveries inastronomy, geology, botany, chemistry, and the great problems inphilosophy, helping us toward a higher conception of the laws whichgovern the world and of "the law behind the law. " He was so sympatheticthat the enthusiasm of youth seemed to kindle his own. He spoke out ofthe fullness of his heart, and explained more eloquently than everwhere his own difficulties lay, and what he, as an old man, thought wasthe true mainspring of human life and action; and

 "How much of act at human hands The sense of human will demands By which we dare to live or die. "

The truth is that real genius, unless made shallow by prejudice, isseldom frozen by age, and that, until absolute physical decay sets in, the powers of the mind may become stronger and stronger. 

On one of these June mornings, Miss L--, who was a stranger to us, butwhose brother we had known for some time, called upon us. My fathertook her over the bridge to the summerhouse looking on the Down. Aftera little while he said: "Miss L--, my son says I am to read to you, "and added, "I will read whatever you like. " He read some of "Maud, ""The Spinster's Sweet-Arts, " and some "Enoch Arden. "

His voice, as Miss L-- noticed, was melodious and full of change, andquite unimpaired by age. There was a peculiar freshness and passion inhis reading of "Maud, " giving the impression that he had just writtenthe poem, and that the emotion which created it was fresh in him. Thishad an extraordinary influence on the listener, who felt that thereader had been _present_ at the scenes he described, and that hestill felt their bliss or agony. 

He thoroughly enjoyed reading his "The Spinster's Sweet-Arts, " and whenhe was reading "Enoch Arden" he told Miss L-- to listen to the sound ofthe sea in the line, "The league-long roller thundering on the reef, "

and to mark Miriam Lane's chatter in

 "He ceased; and Miriam Lane Made such a voluble answer promising all. "

NOTES ON SPEECH-MAKING

From "Notes on Speech-Making, " with the permission of Longmans, Greenand Company, New York and London, publishers. 

BY BRANDER MATTHEWS

We are told that the five-minute speeches with which Judge Hoar yearafter year delighted the Harvard chapter of the Phi Beta Kappacontained but one original idea, clearly stated, and but one freshstory, well told. This is indeed a model to be admired of all men; yethow few of us will take the trouble of copying it!

The speaker who rambles and ambles along, saying nothing, and hisfellow, the speaker who links jest to jest, saying little more, areboth of them unabashed in the presence of an audience. They are devoidof all shyness. They are well aware that they have "the gift of thegab"; they rejoice in its possession; they lie in wait for occasions todisplay it. They have helped to give foreigners the impression thatevery American is an oratorical revolver, ready with a few remarkswhenever any chairman may choose to pull the trigger. And yet there areAmericans not a few to whom the making of an after-dinner speech is amost painful ordeal. When the public dinner was given to CharlesDickens in New York, on his first visit to America, Washington Irvingwas obviously the predestined presiding officer. Curtis tells us thatIrving went about muttering: "I shall certainly break down; I know Ishall break down. " When the dinner was eaten, and Irving arose topropose the health of Dickens, he began pleasantly and smoothly in twoor three sentences; then hesitated, stammered, smiled, and stopped;tried in vain to begin again; then gracefully gave it up, announced thetoast, "Charles Dickens, the guest of the nation, " and sank into hischair amid immense applause, whispering to his neighbor, "There! I toldyou I should break down, and I've done it. "

When Thackeray came, later, Irving "consented to preside at a dinner, if speeches were absolutely forbidden; the condition was faithfullyobserved" (so Curtis records), "but it was the most extraordinaryinstance of American self-command on record. " Thackeray himself had nofondness for after-dinner speaking, nor any great skill in the art. Heused to complain humorously that he never could remember all the goodthings he had thought of in the cab; and in "Philip" he went so far asto express a hope that "a day will soon arrive (but I own, mind you, that I do not carve well) when we shall have the speeches done by askilled waiter at a side table, as we now have the carving. "

Hawthorne was as uncomfortable on his feet as were Thackeray andIrving; but his resolute will steeled him for the trial. When he dinedwith the Mayor of Liverpool, he was called upon for the toast of theUnited States. "Being at bay, and with no alternative, I got upon mylegs and made a response, " he wrote in his notebook, appending thiscomment: "Anybody may make an after-dinner speech who will be contentto talk onward without saying anything. My speech was not more than twoor three inches long; ... But, being once started, I felt noembarassment, and went through it as coolly as if I were going to behanged. "

He also notes that his little speech was quite successful, "consideringthat I did not know a soul there, except the Mayor himself, and that Iam wholly unpracticed in all sorts of oratory, and that I had nothingto say. " To each of these three considerations of Hawthorne's it wouldbe instructive to add a comment, for he spoke under a tripledisadvantage. A speech cannot really be successful when the speaker hasnothing to say. It is rarely successful unless he knows the tastes andthe temper of those he is addressing. It can be successful onlycasually unless he has had some practice in the simpler sort oforatory. 

HUNTING THE GRIZZLY

From "Hunting the Grizzly" with the permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London, publishers. 

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

For half a mile I walked quickly and silently over the pine needles, across a succession of slight ridges separated by narrow, shallowvalleys. The forest here was composed of lodge-pole pines, which on theridges grew close together, with tall slender trunks, while in thevalleys the growth was more open. Though the sun was behind themountains, there was yet plenty of light by which to shoot, but itfaded rapidly. 

At last, as I was thinking of turning toward camp, I stole up to thecrest of one of the ridges, and looked over into the valley some sixtyyards off. Immediately I caught the loom of some large, dark object;and another glance showed me a big grizzly walking slowly off with hishead down. He was quartering to me, and I fired into his flank, thebullet, as I afterward found, ranging forward and piercing one lung. Atthe shot he uttered a loud, moaning grunt and plunged forward at aheavy gallop, while I raced obliquely down the hill to cut him off. After going a few hundred feet, he reached a laurel thicket, somethirty yards broad, and two or three times as long, which he did notleave. I ran up to the edge and there halted, not liking to ventureinto the mass of twisted, close-growing stems and glossy foliage. Moreover, as I halted, I heard him utter a peculiar, savage kind ofwhine from the heart of the brush. Accordingly, I began to skirt theedge, standing on tiptoe and gazing earnestly to see if I could notcatch a glimpse of his hide. When I was at the narrowest part of thethicket, he suddenly left it directly opposite, and then wheeled andstood broadside to me on the hillside, a little above. He turned hishead stiffly toward me; scarlet strings of froth hung from his lips;his eyes burned like embers in the gloom. 

I held true, aiming at the shoulder, and my bullet shattered the pointor lower end of his heart, taking out a big nick. Instantly the greatbear turned with a harsh roar of fury and challenge, blowing the bloodyfoam from his mouth, so that I saw the gleam of his white fangs; andthen he charged straight at me, crashing and bounding through thelaurel bushes, so that it was hard to aim. I waited till he came to afallen tree, raking him as he topped it with a ball, which entered hischest and went through the cavity of his body, but he neither swervednor flinched, and at the moment I did not know that I had struck him. He came steadily on, and in another second was almost upon me. I firedfor his forehead, but my bullet went low, entering his open mouth, smashing his lower jaw and going into the neck. I leaped to one sidealmost as I pulled the trigger; and through the hanging smoke the firstthing I saw was his paw as he made a vicious side blow at me. The rushof his charge carried him past. As he struck he lurched forward, leaving a pool of bright blood where his muzzle hit the ground; but herecovered himself and made two or three jumps onward, while I hurriedlyjammed a couple of cartridges into the magazine, my rifle holding onlyfour, all of which I had fired. Then he tried to pull up, but as he didso his muscles seemed suddenly to give way, his head dropped, and herolled over and over like a shot rabbit. Each of my first three bulletshad inflicted a mortal wound. 

It was already twilight, and I merely opened the carcass, and thentrotted back to camp. Next morning I returned and with much labor tookoff the skin. The fur was very fine, the animal being in excellenttrim, and unusually bright colored. Unfortunately, in packing it out Ilost the skull, and had to supply its place with one of plaster. Thebeauty of the trophy, and the memory of the circumstances under which Iproduced it, make me value it perhaps more highly than any other in myhouse. 

ARGUMENT AND PERSUASION

DEBATES AND CAMPAIGN SPEECHES

ON RETAINING THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

SPEECH OF GEORGE F. HOAR

A famous orator once imagined the nations of the world uniting to erecta column to Jurisprudence in some stately capital. Each country was tobring the name of its great jurist to be inscribed on the side of thecolumn, with a sentence stating what he and his country through him haddone toward establishing the reign of law and justice for the benefitof mankind. 

I have sometimes fancied that we might erect here in the capital of thecountry a column to American Liberty which alone might rival in heightthe beautiful and simple shaft which we have erected to the fame of theFather of the Country. I can fancy each generation bringing itsinscription, which should recite its own contribution to the greatstructure of which the column should be but the symbol. 

The generation of the Puritan and the Pilgrim and the Huguenot claimsthe place of honor at the base. "I brought the torch of freedom acrossthe sea. I cleared the forest. I subdued the savage and the wild beast. I laid in Christian liberty and law the foundations of empire. "

The next generation says: "What my fathers founded I builded. I leftthe seashore to penetrate the wilderness. I planted schools andcolleges and churches. "

Then comes the generation of the great colonial day: "I stood by theside of England on many a hard-fought field. I helped humble the powerof France. "

Then comes the generation of the revolutionary time: "I encountered thepower of England. I declared and won the independence of my country. Iplaced that declaration on the eternal principles of justice andrighteousness which all mankind have read, and on which all mankindwill one day stand. I affirmed the dignity of human nature and theright of the people to govern themselves. "

The next generation says: "I encountered England again. I vindicatedthe right of an American ship to sail the seas the wide world overwithout molestation. I made the American sailor as safe at the ends ofthe earth as my fathers had made the American farmer safe in his home. "

Then comes the next generation: "I did the mighty deeds which in youryounger years you saw and which your fathers told. I saved the Union. Ifreed the slave. I made of every slave a freeman, and of every freemana citizen, and of every citizen a voter. "

Then comes another who did the great work in peace, in which so many ofyou had an honorable share: "I kept the faith. I paid the debt. Ibrought in conciliation and peace instead of war. I built up our vastdomestic commerce. I made my country the richest, freest, strongest, happiest people on the face of the earth. "

And now what have we to say? What have we to say? Are we to have aplace in that honorable company? Must we engrave on that column: "Werepealed the Declaration of Independence. We changed the MunroeDoctrine from a doctrine of eternal righteousness and justice, restingon the consent of the governed, to a doctrine of brutal selfishness, looking only to our own advantage. We crushed the only republic inAsia. We made war on the only Christian people in the East. Weconverted a war of glory into a war of shame. We vulgarized theAmerican flag. We introduced perfidy into the practice of war. Weinflicted torture on unarmed men to extort confession. We put childrento death. We established reconcentrado camps. We devastated provinces. We baffled the aspirations of a people for liberty"?

No, Mr. President. Never! Never! Other and better counsels will yetprevail. The hours are long in the life of a great people. Theirrevocable step is not yet taken. 

Let us at least have this to say: "We, too, have kept the faith of thefathers. We took Cuba by the hand. We delivered her from her age-longbondage. We welcomed her to the family of nations. We set mankind anexample never beheld before of moderation in victory. We led hesitatingand halting Europe to the deliverance of their beleaguered ambassadorsin China. We marched through a hostile country--a country cruel andbarbarous--without anger or revenge. We returned benefit for injury, and pity for cruelty. We made the name of America beloved in the Eastas in the West. We kept faith with the Philippine people. We kept faithwith our own history. We kept our national honor unsullied. The flagwhich we received without a rent we handed down without a stain. "

SPEECH OF WILLIAM MCKINLEY

I do not know why in the year 1899 this Republic has unexpectedly hadplaced before it mighty problems which it must face and meet. They havecome and are here, and they could not be kept away. We have fought awar with Spain. 

The Philippines, like Cuba and Porto Rico, were intrusted to our handsby the war, and to that great trust, under the Providence of God and inthe name of human progress and civilization, we are committed. It is atrust we have not sought; it is a trust from which we will not flinch. The American people will hold up the hands of their servants at home towhom they commit its execution, while Dewey and Otis and the brave menwhom they command will have the support of the country in upholding ourflag where it now floats, the symbol and assurance of liberty andjustice. 

There is universal agreement that the Philippines shall not be turnedback to Spain. No true American consents to that. Even if unwilling toaccept them ourselves, it would have been a weak evasion of manly dutyto require Spain to transfer them to some other power or powers, andthus shirk our own responsibility. Even if we had had, as we did nothave, the power to compel such a transfer, it could not have been madewithout the most serious international complications. Such a coursecould not be thought of. And yet had we refused to accept the cessionof them, we should have had no power over them even for their own good. 

We could not discharge the responsibilities upon us until these islandsbecame ours, either by conquest or treaty. There was but onealternative, and that was either Spain or the United States in thePhilippines. The other suggestions--first, that they should be tossedinto the arena of contention for the strife of nations; or, second, beleft to the anarchy and chaos of no protectorate at all--were tooshameful to be considered. 

The treaty gave them to the United States. Could we have required lessand done our duty? Could we, after freeing the Filipinos from thedomination of Spain, have left them without government and withoutpower to protect life or property or to perform the internationalobligations essential to an independent state? Could we have left themin a state of anarchy and justified ourselves in our own consciences orbefore the tribunal of mankind? Could we have done that in the sight ofGod or man?

No imperial designs lurk in the American mind. They are alien toAmerican sentiment, thought, and purpose. Our priceless principlesundergo no change under a tropical sun. They go with the flag. They arewrought in every one of its sacred folds, and are indistinguishable asits shining stars. 

 "Why read ye not the changeless truth, The free can conquer but to save?"

If we can benefit these remote peoples, who will object? If in theyears of the future they are established in government under law andliberty, who will regret our perils and sacrifices? Who will notrejoice in our heroism and humanity? Always perils, and always afterthem safety; always darkness and clouds, but always shining throughthem the light and the sunshine; always cost and sacrifice, but alwaysafter them the fruition of liberty, education, and civilization. 

I have no light or knowledge not common to my countrymen. I do notprophesy. The present is all-absorbing to me, but I cannot bound myvision by the blood-stained trenches around Manila, where every reddrop, whether from the veins of an American soldier or a misguidedFilipino, is anguish to my heart; but by the broad range of futureyears, when that group of islands, under the impulse of the year justpast, shall have become the gems and glories of those tropical seas; aland of plenty and of increasing possibilities; a people redeemed fromsavage indolence and habits, devoted to the arts of peace, in touchwith the commerce and trade of all nations, enjoying the blessings offreedom, of civil and religious liberty, of education and of homes, andwhose children and children's children shall for ages hence bless theAmerican Republic because it emancipated and redeemed their fatherlandand set them in the pathway of the world's best civilization. 

DEBATE ON THE TARIFF

SPEECH OF THOMAS B. REED

Whether the universal sentiment in favor of protection as applied toevery country is sound or not, I do not stop to discuss. Whether it isbest for the United States of America alone concerns me now, and thefirst thing I have to say is, that after thirty years of protection, undisturbed by any menace of free trade, up to the very year now lastpast, this country was the greatest and most flourishing nation on theface of this earth. Moreover, with the shadow of this unjustifiablebill resting cold upon it, with mills closed, with hundreds ofthousands of men unemployed, industry at a standstill, and prospectsbefore it more gloomy than ever marked its history--except once--thiscountry is still the greatest and the richest that the sun shines on, or ever did shine on. 

According to the usual story that is told, England had been engagedwith a long and vain struggle with the demon of protection, and hadbeen year after year sinking farther into the depths until at a momentwhen she was in her distress and saddest plight her manufacturingsystem broke down, "protection, having destroyed home trade byreducing, " as Mr. Atkinson says, "the entire population to beggary, destitution, and want. " Mr. Cobden and his friends providentiallyappeared, and after a hard struggle established a principle for alltime and for all the world, and straightway England enjoyed the sum ofhuman happiness. Hence all good nations should do as England has doneand be happy ever after. 

Suppose England, instead of being a little island in the sea, had beenthe half of a great continent full of raw material, capable of aninternal commerce which would rival the commerce of all the rest of theworld. 

Suppose every year new millions were flocking to her shores, and everyone of those new millions in a few years, as soon as they tasted thedelights of a broader life, would become as great a consumer as any oneof her own people. 

Suppose that these millions, and the 70, 000, 000 already gathered underthe folds of her flag, were every year demanding and receiving a higherwage and therefore broadening her market as fast as her machinery couldfurnish production. Suppose she had produced cheap food beyond all herwants, and that her laborers spent so much money that whether wheat wassixty cents a bushel or twice that sum hardly entered the thoughts ofone of them, except when some Democratic tariff bill was paralyzing hisbusiness. 

Suppose that she was not only but a cannon shot from France, but thatevery country in Europe had been brought as near to her as Baltimore isto Washington--for that is what cheap ocean freights mean between usand European producers. Suppose all those countries had her machinery, her skilled workmen, her industrial system, and labor forty per centcheaper. Suppose under that state of facts, with all her manufacturersproclaiming against it, frantic in their disapproval, England had beencalled upon by Cobden to make the plunge into free trade, would shehave done it? Not if Cobden had been backed by the angelic host. History gives England credit for great sense. 

SPEECH OF CHARLES F. CRISP

I assume that the cause of protection has no more able advocate thanthe gentleman from Maine. I assume that the argument for protection canbe put in no more alluring form than that to which we have listened to-day. So assuming, I shall ask you calmly and dispassionately to examinewith me that argument, to see upon what it is based, and then I shallinvoke the unprejudiced judgment of this House as to whether the causeattempted to be sustained by the gentleman from Maine has beensustained, or can be before any tribunal where the voice of reason isheard or the sense of justice is felt. 

The gentleman from Maine, with a facility that is unequaled, when heencounters an argument which he is unable to answer passes it by withsome bright and witty saying and thereby invites and receives theapplause of those who believe as he does. But the gentleman does notattempt, the gentleman has not to-day attempted, to reply to the realarguments that are made in favor of freer trade and greater liberty ofcommerce. 

The gentleman points to the progress of the United States, he points tothe rate of wages in the United States, he points to the aggregatedwealth of the United States, and claims all this is due to protection. But he does not explain how we owe these blessings to protection. Hesays, we have protection in the United States, wages are high in theUnited States; therefore protection makes high wages. 

When we ask the gentleman from Maine to give us a reason why a highprotective tariff increases the rate of wages he points to the glory, the prosperity, and the honor of our country. We on this side unitewith him in every sentiment, in every purpose, in every effort that hasfor its object the advancement of the general welfare of the people ofthe United States, but we differ from him as to the method of promotingtheir welfare. The gentleman belongs to that school who believe thatscarcity is a blessing, and that abundance should be prohibited by law. We belong to that school who believe that scarcity is a calamity to beavoided, and that abundance should be, if possible, encouraged by law. 

The gentleman belongs to that class who believe that by a system oftaxation we can make the country rich. He believes that it is possibleby tax laws to advance the prosperity of all the industries and all thepeople in the United States. 

Either, Mr. Speaker, that statement is an absurdity upon its face, orit implies that in some way we have the power to make some persons notresident of the United States pay the taxes that we impose. I insistthat you do not increase the taxable wealth of the United States whenyou tax a gentleman in Illinois and give the benefit of that tax to agentleman in Maine. Such a course prevents the natural and honestdistribution of wealth, but it does not create or augment it. 

SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS

Delivered in the United States Senate, January, 1830

BY ROBERT Y. HAYNE

The gentleman has made a great flourish about his fidelity toMassachusetts. I shall make no profession of zeal for the interests andhonor of South Carolina; of that my constituents shall judge. If therebe one State in the Union, Mr. President (and I say it not in aboastful spirit), that may challenge comparison with any other for auniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union, thatState is South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of theRevolution up to this hour there is no sacrifice, however great, shehas not cheerfully made, no service she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity; but in your adversity shehas clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter what wasthe condition of her domestic affairs, though deprived of herresources, divided by parties, or surrounded with difficulties, thecall of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domesticdiscord ceased at the sound; every man became at once reconciled to hisbrethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together tothe temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. 

What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revolution? Sir, Ihonor New England for her conduct in that glorious struggle. But greatas is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor isdue to the South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with agenerous zeal, which did not suffer them to stop to calculate theirinterest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, possessed ofneither ships nor seamen to create a commercial rivalship, they mighthave found in their situation a guaranty that their trade would beforever fostered and protected by Great Britain. But, trampling on allconsiderations either of interest or of safety, they rushed into theconflict, and, fighting for principle, periled all in the sacred causeof freedom. Never were there exhibited in the history of the worldhigher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroicendurance than by the Whigs of Carolina during the Revolution. Thewhole State, from the mountains to the sea, was overrun by anoverwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on thespot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. The "plainsof Carolina" drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Blackand smoking ruins marked the places where had been the habitations ofher children. Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almostimpenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, andSouth Carolina (sustained by the example of her Sumters and herMarions) proved by her conduct that, though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible. 

REPLY BY DANIEL WEBSTER

The eulogium pronounced by the honorable gentleman on the character ofthe State of South Carolina for her Revolutionary and other meritsmeets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorablemember goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or distinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim partof the honor, I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim themfor countrymen, one and all, --the Laurenses, the Rutledges, thePinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions, Americans all, whose fame is nomore to be hemmed in by State lines than their talents and patriotismwere capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. Intheir day and generation they served and honored the country, and thewhole country; and their renown is of the treasures of the wholecountry. Him whose honored name the gentleman himself bears, --does heesteem me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy forhis sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light ofMassachusetts instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it in hispower to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce envy in mybosom? No, sir, increased gratification and delight, rather. I thankGod that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able toraise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that otherspirit which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in myplace here in the Senate or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit becauseit happens to spring up beyond the little limits of my own State orneighborhood; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, thehomage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sinceredevotion to liberty and the country; or, if I see an uncommon endowmentof Heaven, if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of theSouth, and if, moved by local prejudice or gangrened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character andjust fame, --may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth!

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections; let me indulge inrefreshing remembrance of the past; let me remind you that, in earlytimes, no States cherished greater harmony, both of principle andfeeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God thatharmony might again return! Shoulder to shoulder they went through theRevolution; hand in hand they stood round the administration ofWashington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkindfeeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They areweeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; sheneeds none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. Thereis her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, issecure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill;and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling inthe great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil ofevery State from New England to Georgia; and there they will lieforever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, andwhere its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives in thestrength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord andparty strife shall succeed in separating it from that Union by whichalone its existence is made sure, --it will stand in the end by the sideof that cradle in which its infancy was rocked, and it will fall atlast, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own gloryand on the very spot of its origin. 

THE REPUBLICAN PARTY

BY JOHN HAY

Our platform is before the country. Perhaps it is lacking in novelty. There is certainly nothing sensational about it. Its principles havebeen tested by eight years of splendid success and have received theapproval of the country. It is in line with all our platforms of thepast, except where prophecy and promise in those days have becomehistory in these. We stand by the ancient ways which have proved good. We come before the country in a position which cannot be successfullyattacked in front, or flank, or rear. What we have done, what we aredoing, and what we intend to do--on all three we confidently challengethe verdict of the American people. The record of fifty years will showwhether as a party we are fit to govern; the state of our domestic andforeign affairs will show whether as a party we have fallen off; andboth together will show whether we can be trusted for a while longer. 

I want to say a word to the young men whose political life isbeginning. Any one entering business would be glad of the chance tobecome one of an established firm with years of success behind it, witha wide connection, with unblemished character, with credit founded on arock. How infinitely brighter the future when the present is so sure, the past so glorious! Everything great done by this country in the lastfifty years has been done under the auspices of the Republican Party. Is not this consciousness a great asset to have in your mind andmemory? As a mere item of personal comfort is it not worth having?Lincoln and Grant, Hayes and Garfield, Harrison and McKinley--namessecure in the heaven of fame--they all are gone, leaving small estatesin worldly goods, but what vast possessions in principles, memories, sacred associations! It is a start in life to share that wealth. Whonow boasts that he opposed Lincoln? who brags of his voting againstGrant? though both acts may have been from the best of motives. In ourform of government there must be two parties, and tradition, circumstances, temperament, will always create a sufficient opposition. But what young man would not rather belong to the party that doesthings, instead of one that opposes them; to the party that looks up, rather than down; to the party of the dawn, rather than of the sunset?For fifty years the Republican Party has believed in the country andlabored for it in hope and joy; it has reverenced the flag and followedit; it has carried it under strange skies and planted it on far-receding horizons. It has seen the nation grow greater every year andmore respected; by just dealing, by intelligent labor, by a genius forenterprise, it has seen the country extend its intercourse and itsinfluence to regions unknown to our fathers. Yet it has never abatedone jot or tittle of the ancient law imposed on us by our God-fearingancestors. We have fought a good fight, but also we have kept thefaith. The Constitution of our fathers has been the light to our feet;our path is, and will ever remain, that of ordered progress, of libertyunder the law. The country has vastly increased, but the great-brainedstatesmen who preceded us provided for infinite growth. The discoveriesof science have made miraculous additions to our knowledge. But we arenot daunted by progress; we are not afraid of the light. The fabric ourfathers builded on such sure foundations will stand all shocks of fateor fortune. There will always be a proud pleasure in looking back onthe history they made; but, guided by their example, the cominggeneration has the right to anticipate work not less important, daysequally memorable to mankind. We who are passing off the stage bid you, as the children of Israel encamping by the sea were bidden, to GoForward; we whose hands can no longer hold the flaming torch pass it onto you that its clear light may show the truth to the ages that are tocome. 

NOMINATING ULYSSES S. GRANT

BY ROSCOE CONKLING

In obedience to instructions I should never dare to disregard--expressing, also, my own firm convictions--I rise to propose anomination with which the country and the Republican party can grandlywin. The election before us is to be the Austerlitz of Americanpolitics. It will decide, for many years, whether the country shall beRepublican or Cossack. The supreme need of the hour is not a candidatewho can carry Michigan. All Republican candidates can do that. The needis not of a candidate who is popular in the Territories, because theyhave no vote. The need is of a candidate who can carry doubtful States. Not the doubtful States of the North alone, but doubtful States of theSouth, which we have heard, if I understand it aright, ought to takelittle or no part here, because the South has nothing to give, buteverything to receive. No, gentlemen, the need that presses upon theconscience of this Convention is of a candidate who can carry doubtfulStates both North and South. And believing that he, more surely thanany other man, can carry New York against any opponent, and can carrynot only the North, but several States of the South, New York is forUlysses S. Grant. Never defeated in peace or in war, his name is themost illustrious borne by living man. 

His services attest his greatness, and the country--nay, the world--knows them by heart. His fame was earned not alone in things writtenand said, but by the arduous greatness of things done. And perils andemergencies will search in vain in the future, as they have searched invain in the past, for any other on whom the nation leans with suchconfidence and trust. Never having had a policy to enforce against thewill of the people, he never betrayed a cause or a friend, and thepeople will never desert nor betray him. Standing on the highesteminence of human distinction, modest, firm, simple, and self-poised, having filled all lands with his renown, he has seen not only thehighborn and the titled, but the poor and the lowly, in the uttermostends of the earth, rise and uncover before him. He has studied theneeds and the defects of many systems of government, and he hasreturned a better American than ever. 

His integrity, his common-sense, his courage, his unequaled experience, are the qualities offered to his country. The only argument, the onlyone that the wit of man or the stress of politics has devised is onethat would have dumbfounded Solomon, because he thought there wasnothing new under the sun. Having tried Grant twice and found himfaithful, we are told that we must not, even after an interval ofyears, trust him again. My countrymen! my countrymen! whatstultification does not such a fallacy involve! Is this anelectioneering juggle, or is it hypocrisy's masquerade? There is nofield of human activity, responsibility, or reason, in which rationalbeings object to an agent because he has been weighed in the balanceand not found wanting. There is, I say, no department of human reasonin which sane men reject an agent because he has had experience makinghim exceptionally competent and fit. 

This Convention is master of a supreme opportunity. It can name thenext President. It can make sure of his election. It can make sure notonly of his election, but of his certain and peaceful inauguration. 

Gentlemen, we have only to listen above the din and look beyond thedust of an hour to behold the Republican party advancing with itsensigns resplendent with illustrious achievements, marching to certainand lasting victory with its greatest Marshal at its head. 

THE CHOICE OF A PARTY

From a speech delivered in New York, 1880. Depew's "Library ofOratory, " E. J. Bowen and Company, New York, publishers. 

BY ROSCOE CONKLING

We are citizens of a republic. We govern ourselves. Here no pomp ofeager array in chambers of royalty awaits the birth of boy or girl towield an hereditary scepter. We know no scepter save a majority'sconstitutional will. To wield that scepter in equal share is the dutyand the right, nay, the birthright, of every citizen. The supreme, thefinal, the only peaceful arbiter here, is the ballot box; and in thaturn should be gathered and from it should be sacredly recorded theconscience, the judgment, the intelligence of all. The right of freeself-government has been in all ages the bright dream of oppressedhumanity, --the sighed-for privilege to which thrones, dynasties, andpower have so long blocked the way. In the fullness of freedom theRepublic of America is alone in the earth; alone in its grandeur; alonein its blessings; alone in its promises and possibilities, andtherefore alone in the devotion due from its citizens. 

The time has come when law, duty, and interest require the nation todetermine for at least four years its policy in many things. Twoparties exist; parties should always exist in a government ofmajorities, and to support and strengthen the party which most nearlyholds his views is among the most laudable, meritorious acts of anAmerican citizen; and this whether he be in official or in privatestation. Two parties contend for the management of national affairs. The question is, Which of the two is it safer and wiser to trust? It isnot a question of candidates. A candidate, if he be an honest, genuineman, will not seek and accept a party nomination to the presidency, vice presidency, or Congress, and after he is elected become a law untohimself. The higher obligations among men are not set down in writingand signed or sealed; they reside in honor and good faith. The fidelityof a nominee belongs to this exalted class, and therefore the candidateof a party is but the exponent of a party. The object of politicaldiscussion and action is to settle principles, policies, and issues. Itis a paltry incident of an election affecting fifty million people thatit decides for an occasion the aspirations of individual men. TheDemocratic party is the Democratic candidate, and I am against theticket and all its works. 

A triumphant nationality--a regenerated constitution--a free Republic--an unbroken country--untarnished credit--solvent finances--unparalleledprosperity--all these are ours despite the policy and the efforts ofthe Democratic party. Along with the amazing improvement in nationalfinances, we have amazing individual thrift on every side. In everywalk of life new activity is felt. Labor, agriculture, manufactures, commerce, enterprises, and investments, all are flourishing, contentand hopeful. But in the midst of this harmony and encouragement comes aharsh discord crying, "Give us a change--anything for a change. " Thisis not a bearing year for "a change. " Every other crop is good, but notthe crop of "change"--that crop is good only when the rest are bad. Thecountry does not need nor wish the change proposed, and to the pressinginvitation of our Democratic friends a good-natured but firm "No, Ithank you, " will be the response at the polls. 

Upon its record and its candidates the Republican party asks thecountry's approval, and stands ready to avow its purposes for thefuture. It proposes to rebuild our commercial marine. It proposes tofoster labor, industry, and enterprise. It proposes to stand foreducation, humanity, and progress. It proposes to administer thegovernment honestly, to preserve amity with all the world, observingour own obligations with others and seeing that others observe theirswith us, to protect every citizen in his rights and equality before thelaw, to uphold the public credit and the sanctity of engagements; andby doing these things the Republican party proposes to assure toindustry, humanity, and civilization in America the amplest welcome andthe safest home. 

NOMINATING JOHN SHERMAN

From a speech nominating a candidate for President of the United Statesat the Republican National Convention, 1880

BY JAMES A. GARFIELD

I have witnessed the extraordinary scenes of this Convention with deepsolicitude. Nothing touches my heart more quickly than a tribute ofhonor to a great and noble character; but as I sat in my seat andwitnessed this demonstration, this assemblage seemed to me a humanocean in tempest. I have seen the sea lashed into fury and tossed intospray, and its grandeur moves the soul of the dullest man; but Iremember that it is not the billows, but the calm level of the sea, from which all heights and depths are measured. When the storm haspassed and the hour of calm settles on the ocean, when the sunlightbathes its peaceful surface, then the astronomer and surveyor take thelevel from which they measure all terrestrial heights and depths. 

Gentlemen of the Convention, your present temper may not mark thehealthful pulse of our people. Not here, in this brilliant circle, where fifteen thousand men and women are gathered, is the destiny ofthe Republic to be decreed for the next four years. Not here, where Isee the enthusiastic faces of seven hundred and fifty-six delegates, waiting to cast their lots into the urn and determine the choice of theRepublic, but by four millions of Republican firesides, where thethoughtful voters, with wives and children about them, with the calmthoughts inspired by love of home and country, with the history of thepast, the hopes of the future, and reverence for the great men who haveadorned and blessed our nation in days gone by, burning in theirhearts, --there God prepares the verdict which will determine the wisdomof our work to-night. Not in Chicago, in the heat of June, but at theballot boxes of the Republic, in the quiet of November, after thesilence of deliberate judgment, will this question be settled. 

Now, gentlemen, I am about to present a name for your consideration, --the name of one who was the comrade, associate, and friend of nearlyall the noble dead, whose faces look down upon us from these walls to-night; a man who began his career of public service twenty-five yearsago. 

You ask for his monument. I point you to twenty-five years of nationalstatutes. Not one great, beneficent law has been placed on our statutebooks without his intelligent and powerful aid. He aided in formulatingthe laws to raise the great armies and navies which carried us throughthe war. His hand was seen in the workmanship of those statutes thatrestored and brought back "the unity and married calm of States. " Hishand was in all that great legislation that created the war currency, and in all the still greater work that redeemed the promises of thegovernment and made the currency equal to gold. 

When at last he passed from the halls of legislation into a highexecutive office, he displayed that experience, intelligence, firmness, and poise of character, which have carried us through a stormy periodof three years, with one half the public press crying "Crucify him!"and a hostile Congress seeking to prevent success. In all this heremained unmoved until victory crowned him. The great fiscal affairs ofthe nation, and the vast business interests of the country, he guardedand preserved while executing the law of resumption, and effected itsobject without a jar and against the false prophecies of one half ofthe press and of all the Democratic party. 

He has shown himself able to meet with calmness the great emergenciesof the government. For twenty-five years he has trodden the perilousheights of public duty, and against all the shafts of malice has bornehis breast unharmed. He has stood in the blaze of "that fierce lightthat beats against the throne"; but its fiercest ray has found no flawin his armor, no stain upon his shield. I do not present him as abetter Republican or a better man than thousands of others that wehonor; but I present him for your deliberate and favorableconsideration. I nominate JOHN SHERMAN, OF OHIO. 

THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY

From "The Speeches and Addresses of William E. Russell. " Copyrighted1893, by Little, Brown and Company, Boston, publishers. 

BY WILLIAM E. RUSSELL

As I stand here to-night, a Democrat, speaking to Democrats, and to menwhose conscience party could not bind, --men who carry their sovereigntyeach under his own hat, --there comes vividly back to me the stirringwords with which the chairman opened a similar meeting on the eve ofthe great battle of 1884, "This is a union meeting;" and, as he spoke, the minds of his hearers went back to war days, when principle wasplaced above party, and patriotism above partisanship. 

Our union is not for the triumph of any man, but for the triumph ofideas; for a living faith, a progressive spirit. It is of that to-nightI speak. 

It has often been said that there was little difference between the twoparties. Perhaps that was the criticism of honest men, whose earnestdesire for honest candidates led them to look no farther. To-day everyintelligent man in Massachusetts knows that there is a wide differencebetween the parties, --all the difference that there is between standingstill and moving forward. I do not believe that this difference isaccidental. It is the natural evolution of the history and purpose ofthe parties. A political prophet of a generation ago, who knew thishistory, who had studied the Democratic faith, had seen the birth ofthe Republican party and its purpose, could have predicted the positionof the parties to-day. The Democratic party is old enough to haveoutlived and defeated all other parties, young enough to represent theprogressive spirit of to-day. It must be founded on vital principlesand have a living faith. Its creed from its first to its thirty-nintharticle is an abiding trust in the people, a belief that men, irrespective of the accident of birth or fortune, have a right to avoice in the government that rules them. Its principles are theequality and freedom of all men in affairs of State and before thealtar of their God, --that there should be allowed the greatest possiblepersonal liberty, that a government least felt is best, that it shouldlightly and never unnecessarily impose its burdens of taxation andrestriction, that in its administration there should be simplicity, purity, and economy, and in its form it should be closely within thereach and control of the people. 

Progress, merely as progress, is nothing; but progress that sees thechanges of a generation, --a blessed, lasting peace in place of thehorrors and burdens of civil war, a reunited, loyal country; progressthat hears the demand of the people for pure and economicadministration, for relief from restrictions and taxation; progressthat feels the discontent and suffering of great masses of thepeople, --this progress, if willing and ready to shape into legislationthe new wishes and the new wants, rises to the height of statesmanship. 

THE CALL TO DEMOCRATS

From a speech opening the National Democratic Convention, at Baltimore, Maryland, June, 1912. 

BY ALTON B. PARKER

It is not the wild and cruel methods of revolution and violence thatare needed to correct the abuses incident to our Government as to allthings human. Neither material nor moral progress lies that way. Wehave made our Government and our complicated institutions by appeals toreason, seeking to educate all our people that, day after day, yearafter year, century after century, they may see more clearly, act morejustly, become more and more attached to the fundamental ideas thatunderlie our society. If we are to preserve undiminished the heritagebequeathed us, and add to it those accretions without which societywould perish, we shall need all the powers that the school, the church, the court, the deliberative assembly, and the quiet thought of ourpeople can bring to bear. 

We are called upon to do battle against the unfaithful guardians of ourConstitution and liberties and the hordes of ignorance which arepushing forward only to the ruin of our social and governmental fabric. 

Too long has the country endured the offenses of the leaders of a partywhich once knew greatness. Too long have we been blind to the bacchanalof corruption. Too long have we listlessly watched the assembling ofthe forces that threaten our country and our firesides. 

The time has come when the salvation of the country demands therestoration to place and power of men of high ideals who will wageunceasing war against corruption in politics, who will enforce the lawagainst both rich and poor, and who will treat guilt as personal andpunish it accordingly. 

What is our duty? To think alike as to men and measures? Impossible!Even for our great party! There is not a reactionary among us. AllDemocrats are Progressives. But it is inevitably human that we shallnot all agree that in a single highway is found the only road toprogress, or each make the same man of all our worthy candidates hisfirst choice. 

It is possible, however, and it is our duty to put aside allselfishness, to consent cheerfully that the majority shall speak foreach of us, and to march out of this convention shoulder to shoulder, intoning the praises of our chosen leader--and that will be his due, whichever of the honorable and able men now claiming our attentionshall be chosen. 

NOMINATING WOODROW WILSON

At the National Democratic Convention, Baltimore, Maryland, June, 1912. 

BY JOHN W. WESCOTT

The New Jersey delegation is commissioned to represent the great causeof Democracy and to offer you as its militant and triumphant leader ascholar, not a charlatan; a statesman, not a doctrinaire; a profoundlawyer, not a splitter of legal hairs; a political economist, not anegotistical theorist; a practical politician, who constructs, modifies, restrains, without disturbance and destruction; a resistless debaterand consummate master of statement, not a mere sophist; a humanitarian, not a defamer of characters and lives; a man whose mind is at oncecosmopolitan and composite of America; a gentleman of unpretentioushabits, with the fear of God in his heart and the love of mankindexhibited in every act of his life; above all a public servant who hasbeen tried to the uttermost and never found wanting--matchless, unconquerable, the ultimate Democrat, Woodrow Wilson. 

New Jersey has reasons for her course. Let us not be deceived in ourpremises. Campaigns of vilification, corruption and false pretence havelost their usefulness. The evolution of national energy is towards amore intelligent morality in politics and in all other relations. Thesituation admits of no compromise. The temper and purpose of theAmerican public will tolerate no other view. The indifference of theAmerican people to politics has disappeared. Any platform and anycandidate not conforming to this vast social and commercial behest willgo down to ignominious defeat at the polls. 

Men are known by what they say and do. They are known by those who hateand oppose them. Many years ago Woodrow Wilson said, "No man is greatwho thinks himself so, and no man is good who does not try to securethe happiness and comfort of others. " This is the secret of his life. The deeds of this moral and intellectual giant are known to all men. They accord, not with the shams and false pretences of politics, butmake national harmony with the millions of patriots determined tocorrect the wrongs of plutocracy and reestablish the maxims of Americanliberty in all their regnant beauty and practical effectiveness. NewJersey loves Woodrow Wilson not for the enemies he has made. New Jerseyloves him for what he is. New Jersey argues that Woodrow Wilson is theonly candidate who can not only make Democratic success a certainty, but secure the electoral vote of almost every State in the Union. 

New Jersey will indorse his nomination by a majority of 100, 000 of herliberated citizens. We are not building for a day, or even ageneration, but for all time. New Jersey believes that there is anomniscience in national instinct. That instinct centers in WoodrowWilson. He has been in political life less than two years. He has hadno organization; only a practical ideal--the reestablishment of equalopportunity. Not his deeds alone, not his immortal words alone, not hispersonality alone, not his matchless powers alone, but all combinedcompel national faith and confidence in him. Every crisis evolves itsmaster. Time and circumstance have evolved Woodrow Wilson. The North, the South, the East, and the West unite in him. New Jersey appeals tothis convention to give the nation Woodrow Wilson, that he may open thegates of opportunity to every man, woman, and child under our flag, byreforming abuses, and thereby teaching them, in his matchless words, "to release their energies intelligently, that peace, justice andprosperity may reign. " New Jersey rejoices, through her freely chosenrepresentatives, to name for the presidency of the United States thePrinceton schoolmaster, Woodrow Wilson. 

DEMOCRATIC FAITH

From "The Speeches and Addresses of William E. Russell. " Copyrighted, 1894, by Little, Brown and Company, Boston, Publishers

BY WILLIAM E. RUSSELL

For the honor and privilege of addressing this gathering of YoungDemocracy I am deeply grateful. With earnestness and enthusiasm, withdevotion to the party and its principles, and with unflinching loyaltyto its glorious leaders, Young Democracy meets to-day for organizationand action. Gladly it volunteers in a campaign where its very faith isat stake; impatiently it awaits the coming of the battle. 

We fight for measures, not men; the principles of government, not men'scharacters, are to be discussed; a nation's policy, not personalambition, is to be determined. 

Thank God, we enter the fight with a living faith, founded uponprinciples that are just, enduring, as old as the nation itself, yetever young, vigorous, and progressive, because there is ever work forthem to do. Our party was not founded for a single mission, whichaccomplished, left it drifting with no fixed star of principle to guideit. It was born and has lived to uphold great truths of government thatneed always to be enforced. The influence of the past speaks to us inthe voice of the present. Jefferson and Jackson still lead us, notbecause they are glorious reminiscences, but because the philosophy ofthe one, the courage of the other, the Democracy of both, are potentfactors in determining Democracy to-day. 

We believe that a government which controls the lives, liberties, andproperty of a people in its administration should be honest, economical, and efficient; and in its form a local self-government keptnear to the power that makes and obeys it. To safeguard the rights andliberty of the individual, the Democratic party demands home rule. Democracy stands beside the humblest citizen to protect him fromoppressive government; it is the bulwark of the silent people to resisthaving the power and purpose of government warped by the clamorousdemands of selfish interests. Its greatest good, its highest glory, isthat it is, and is to be, the people's party. To it government is apower to protect and encourage men to make the most of themselves, andnot something for men to make the most out of. 

And, lastly, we believe in the success, the glory, and the splendiddestiny of this great Republic. It leaped into life from the hands ofDemocrats. More than three-quarters of a century it has been nurturedand strengthened by Democratic rule. Under Democratic administrations, in its mighty sweep, it has stretched from ocean to ocean, not as aNorth and South and East and West, but now as a glorious Union ofsovereign States, reunited in love and loyalty, a great nation ofmillions of loyal subjects. 

The faith we profess is distinctly an American faith; the principles weproclaim are distinctly American principles, and have been from theirfirst utterance in the Declaration of Independence to their latest inthe platform of the St. Louis Convention; the policy they demand of usas Democrats is emphatically an American policy. 

Our great leader lives in the faith we profess. He speaks in theprinciples we assert. He leads because we follow Democracy, its faith, its principles, and its policy and hail him as the foremost Democrat ofthe Nation. Thus comes victory. Thus victory means something. Thuspower and responsibility go together, and the only influence behind himare the wishes, the rights, and the welfare of the great Americanpeople. In such a cause, with such a leader, there is no room forfailure. 

 "To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin. "

ENGLAND AND AMERICA

BY JOHN BRIGHT

What can be more monstrous than that we, as we call ourselves, to someextent, an educated, a moral, and a Christian nation--at a moment whenan accident of this kind occurs, before we have made a representationto the American government, before we have heard a word from it inreply--should be all up in arms, every sword leaping from its scabbard, and every man looking about for his pistols and his blunderbusses? Ithink the conduct pursued--and I have no doubt just the same is pursuedby a certain class in America--is much more the conduct of savages thanof Christian and civilized men. No, let us be calm. You recollect howwe were dragged into the Russian war--how we "drifted" into it. Youknow that I, at least, have not upon my head any of the guilt of thatfearful war. You know that it cost one hundred millions of money tothis country; that it cost at least the lives of forty thousandEnglishmen; that it disturbed your trade; that it nearly doubled thearmies of Europe; that it placed the relations of Europe on a much lesspeaceful footing than before; and that it did not effect a single thingof all those that it was promised to effect. 

Now, then, before I sit down, let me ask you what is this people, aboutwhich so many men in England at this moment are writing, and speaking, and thinking, with harshness, I think with injustice, if not with greatbitterness? Two centuries ago, multitudes of the people of this countryfound a refuge on the North American continent, escaping from thetyranny of the Stuarts and from the bigotry of Laud. Many noble spiritsfrom our country made great experiments in favor of human freedom onthat continent. Bancroft, the great historian of his own country, hassaid, in his own graphic and emphatic language, "The history of thecolonization of America is the history of the crimes of Europe. "

At this very moment, then, there are millions in the United States whopersonally, or whose immediate parents have at one time been citizensof this country. They found a home in the Far West; they subdued thewilderness; they met with plenty there, which was not afforded them intheir native country; and they have become a great people. There may bepersons in England who are jealous of those States. There may be menwho dislike democracy, and who hate a republic; there may be thosewhose sympathies warm only toward an oligarchy or a monarchy. But ofthis I am certain, that only misrepresentation the most gross, orcalumny the most wicked, can sever the tie which unites the great massof the people of this country with their friends and brethren beyondthe Atlantic. 

Now, whether the Union will be restored or not, or the South achieve anunhonored independence or not, I know not, and I predict not. But thisI think I know--that in a few years, a very few years, the twentymillions of freemen in the North will be thirty millions, or even fiftymillions--a population equal to or exceeding that of this kingdom. Whenthat time comes, I pray that it may not be said among them, that in thedarkest hour of their country's trials, England, the land of theirfathers, looked on with icy coldness and saw unmoved the perils andcalamities of her children. As for me, I have but this to say: I am butone in this audience, and but one in the citizenship of this country;but if all other tongues are silent, mine shall speak for that policywhich tends, and which always shall tend, to generous thoughts, andgenerous words, and generous deeds, between the two great nations whospeak the English language, and from their origin are alike entitled tothe English name. 

ON HOME RULE IN IRELAND

BY WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE

There has been no great day of hope for Ireland, no day when you mighthope completely and definitely to end the controversy till now--morethan ninety years. The long periodic time has at last run out, and thestar has again mounted into the heavens. What Ireland was doing forherself in 1795 we at length have done. The Roman Catholics have beenemancipated--emancipated after a woeful disregard of solemn promisesthrough twenty-nine years, emancipated slowly, sullenly, not from goodwill, but from abject terror, with all the fruits and consequenceswhich will always follow that method of legislation. The second problemhas been also solved, and the representation of Ireland has beenthoroughly reformed; and I am thankful to say that the franchise wasgiven to Ireland on the readjustment of last year with a free heart, with an open hand; and the gift of that franchise was the last actrequired to make the success of Ireland in her final effort absolutelysure. We have given Ireland a voice; we must all listen for a moment towhat she says. We must all listen, both sides, both parties--I mean asthey are divided on this question--divided, I am afraid, by an almostimmeasurable gap. We do not undervalue or despise the forces opposed tous. I have described them as the forces of class and its dependents;and that as a general description--as a slight and rude outline of adescription--is, I believe, perfectly true. You have power, you havewealth, you have rank, you have station, you have organization. Whathave we? We think that we have the people's heart; we believe and weknow we have the promise of the harvest of the future. As to thepeople's heart, you may dispute it, and dispute it with perfectsincerity. Let that matter make its own proof. As to the harvest of thefuture, I doubt if you have so much confidence; and I believe thatthere is in the breast of many a man who means to vote against us to-night a profound misgiving, approaching even to a deep conviction, thatthe end will be as we foresee, and not as you do--that the ebbing tideis with you, and the flowing tide with us. Ireland stands at your bar, expectant, hopeful, almost suppliant. Her words are the words of truthand soberness. She asks a blessed oblivion of the past, and in thatoblivion our interest is deeper than even hers. My right honorablefriend, the member for East Edinburgh, asks us tonight to abide by thetraditions of which we are the heirs. What traditions? By the Irishtraditions? Go into the length and breadth of the world, ransack theliterature of all countries, find, if you can, a single voice, a singlebook--find, I would almost say, as much as a single newspaper article, unless the product of the day, --in which the conduct of England towardsIreland is anywhere treated except with profound and bittercondemnation. Are these the traditions by which we are exhorted tostand? No; they are a sad exception to the glory of our country. Theyare a broad and black blot upon the pages of its history; and what wewant to do is to stand by the traditions of which we are the heirs inall matters except our relations with Ireland, and to make ourrelations with Ireland to conform to the other traditions of ourcountry. So we treat our traditions, so we hail the demand of Irelandfor what I call a blessed oblivion of the past. She asks also a boonfor the future; and that boon for the future, unless we are muchmistaken, will be a boon to us in respect of honor, no less than a boonto her in respect of happiness, prosperity, and peace. Such, sir, isher prayer. Think, I beseech you, think well, think wisely, think, notfor the moment, but for the years that are to come, before you rejectthis Bill. 

THE LEGAL PLEA

THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE CASE

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

The case before the court is not of ordinary importance, nor ofeveryday occurrence. It affects not this college only, but everycollege, and all the literary institutions of the country. They haveflourished hitherto, and have become in a high degree respectable anduseful to the community. They have all a common principle of existence, the inviolability of their charters. It will be a dangerous, a mostdangerous experiment to hold these institutions subject to the rise andfall of popular parties, and the fluctuations of political opinions. Ifthe franchise may be at any time taken away, or impaired, the propertyalso may be taken away, or its use perverted. Benefactors will have nocertainty of effecting the object of their bounty; and learned men willbe deterred from devoting themselves to the service of suchinstitutions, from the precarious title of their offices. Colleges andhalls will be deserted by all better spirits, and become a theater forthe contentions of politics. Party and faction will be cherished in theplaces consecrated to piety and learning. 

When the court in North Carolina declared the law of the State, whichrepealed a grant to its university, unconstitutional and void, thelegislature had the candor and the wisdom to repeal the law. Thisexample, so honorable to the State which exhibited it, is most fit tobe followed on this occasion. And there is good reason to hope that aState which has hitherto been so much distinguished for temperatecounsels, cautious legislation, and regard to law, will not fail toadopt a course which will accord with her highest and best interests, and in no small degree elevate her reputation. 

It was for many and obvious reasons most anxiously desired that thequestion of the power of the legislature over this charter should havebeen finally decided in the State court. An earnest hope wasentertained that the judges of the court might have reviewed the casein a light favorable to the rights of the trustees. That hope hasfailed. It is here that those rights are now to be maintained, or theyare prostrated forever. 

This, sir, is my case. It is the case, not merely of that humbleinstitution, it is the case of every college in the land. It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout ourcountry--of all those great charities formed by the piety of ourancestors, to alleviate human misery, and scatter blessings along thepathway of life. It is more! It is, in some sense, the case of everyman among us who has property, of which he may be stripped, for thequestion is simply this: Shall our State legislatures be allowed totake that which is not their own; to turn it from its original use, andto apply it to such ends or purposes as they in their discretion shallsee fit?

Sir, you may destroy this little institution; it is weak; it is in yourhands! I know it is one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon ofour country. You may put it out. But, if you do so, you must carrythrough your work! You must extinguish, one after another, all thosegreater lights of science, which, for more than a century, have throwntheir radiance over our land!

It is, sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet there are thosewho love it. 

Sir, I know not how others may feel, but for myself, when I see my AlmaMater surrounded, like Cęsar, in the senate house, by those who arereiterating stab after stab, I would not, for this right hand, have herturn to me, and say, _et tu quoque, mi fili! And thou too, my son!_

IN DEFENSE OF THE KENNISTONS

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

Gentlemen of the Jury, --It is true that the offense charged in theindictment in this case is not capital; but perhaps this can hardly beconsidered as favorable to the defendants. To those who are guilty, andwithout hope of escape, no doubt the lightness of the penalty oftransgression gives consolation. But if the defendants are innocent, itis more natural for them to be thinking upon what they have lost bythat alteration of the law which has left highway robbery no longercapital, than what the guilty might gain by it. They have lost thosegreat privileges in their trial, which the law allows, in capitalcases, for the protection of innocence against unfounded accusation. They have lost the right of being previously furnished with a copy ofthe indictment, and a list of the government witnesses. They have lostthe right of peremptory challenge; and, notwithstanding the prejudiceswhich they know have been excited against them, they must show legalcause of challenge, in each individual case, or else take the jury asthey find it. They have lost the benefit of assignment of counsel bythe court. They have lost the benefit of the Commonwealth's process tobring in witnesses in their behalf. When to these circumstances it isadded that they are strangers, almost wholly without friends, andwithout the means for preparing their defense, it is evident they musttake their trial under great disadvantages. 

But without dwelling on these considerations, I proceed, Gentlemen ofthe Jury, to ask your attention to those circumstances which cannot butcast doubts on the story of the prosecutor. 

The jury will naturally look to the appearances exhibited on the fieldafter the robbery. The portmanteau was there. The witnesses say thatthe straps which fastened it to the saddle had been neither cut norbroken. They were carefully unbuckled. This was very considerate forrobbers. It had been opened, and its contents were scattered about thefield. The pocket book, too, had been opened, and many papers itcontained found on the ground. Nothing valuable was lost but money. Therobbers did not think it well to go off at once with the portmanteauand the pocket book. The place was so secure, so remote, sounfrequented; they were so far from the highway, at least one full rod;there were so few persons passing, probably not more than four or fivethen in the road, within hearing of the pistols and the cries ofGoodridge; there being, too, not above five or six dwelling-houses, full of people, within the hearing of the report of a pistol; thesecircumstances were all so favorable to their safety, that the robberssat down to look over the prosecutor's papers, carefully examined thecontents of his pocket book and portmanteau, and took only the thingswhich they needed! There was money belonging to other persons. Therobbers did not take it. They found out it was not the prosecutor's, and left it. It may be said to be favorable to the prosecutor's story, that the money which did not belong to him, and the plunder of whichwould seem to be the most probable inducement he could have to feign arobbery, was not taken. But the jury will consider whether thiscircumstance does not bear quite as strongly the other way, and whetherthey can believe that robbers could have left this money, either fromaccident or design. 

II

The witnesses on the part of the prosecution have testified that thedefendants, when arrested, manifested great agitation and alarm;paleness overspread their faces, and drops of sweat stood on theirtemples. This satisfied the witnesses of the defendants' guilt, andthey now state the circumstances as being indubitable proof. Thisargument manifests, in those who use it, an equal want of sense andsensibility. It is precisely fitted to the feeling and the intellect ofa bum-bailiff. In a court of justice it deserves nothing but contempt. Is there nothing that can agitate the frame or excite the blood but theconsciousness of guilt? If the defendants were innocent, would they notfeel indignation at this unjust accusation? If they saw an attempt toproduce false evidence against them, would they not be angry? And, seeing the production of such evidence, might they not feel fear andalarm? And have indignation, and anger, and terror no power to affectthe human countenance or the human frame?

Miserable, miserable, indeed, is the reasoning which would infer anyman's guilt from his agitation when he found himself accused of aheinous offense; when he saw evidence which he might know to be falseand fraudulent brought against him; when his house was filled, from thegarret to the cellar, by those whom he might esteem as false witnesses;and when he himself, instead of being at liberty to observe theirconduct and watch their motions, was a prisoner in close custody in hisown house, with the fists of a catchpoll clenched upon his throat. 

From the time of the robbery to the arrest, five or six weeks, thedefendants were engaged in their usual occupations. They are not foundto have passed a dollar of money to anybody. They continued theirordinary habits of labor. No man saw money about them, nor anycircumstance that might lead to a suspicion that they had money. Nothing occurred tending in any degree to excite suspicion againstthem. When arrested, and when all this array of evidence was broughtagainst them, and when they could hope in nothing but their innocence, immunity was offered them again if they would confess. They werepressed, and urged, and allured, by every motive which could be setbefore them, to acknowledge their participation in the offense, and tobring out their accomplices. They steadily protested that they couldconfess nothing because they knew nothing. In defiance of all thediscoveries made in their house, they have trusted to their innocence. On that, and on the candor and discernment of an enlightened jury, theystill rely. 

If the jury are satisfied that there is the highest improbability thatthese persons could have had any previous knowledge of Goodridge, orbeen concerned in any previous concert to rob him; if their conductthat evening and the next day was marked by no circumstance ofsuspicion; if from that moment until their arrest nothing appearedagainst them; if they neither passed money, nor are found to have hadmoney; if the manner of the search of their house, and thecircumstances attending it, excite strong suspicions of unfair andfraudulent practices; if, in the hour of their utmost peril, nopromises of safety could draw from the defendants any confessionaffecting themselves or others, it will be for the jury to say whetherthey can pronounce them guilty. 

IN DEFENCE OF JOHN E. COOK

Published in Depew's "Library of Oratory, " E. J. Bowen and Company, New York, publishers. 

BY D. W. VOORHEES

Who is John E. Cook?

He has the right himself to be heard before you; but I will answer forhim. Sprung from an ancestry of loyal attachment to the Americangovernment, he inherits no blood of tainted impurity. His grandfather, an officer of the Revolution, by which your liberty, as well as mine, was achieved, and his gray-haired father, who lived to weep over him, asoldier of the war of 1812, he brings no dishonored lineage into yourpresence. Born of a parent stock occupying the middle walks of life, and possessed of all those tender and domestic virtues which escape thecontamination of those vices that dwell on the frozen peaks, or in thedark and deep caverns of society, he would not have been here hadprecept and example been remembered in the prodigal wanderings of hisshort and checkered life. 

Poor deluded boy! wayward, misled child! An evil star presided over thynatal hour and smote it with gloom. 

In an evil hour--and may it be forever accursed!--John E. Cook met JohnBrown on the prostituted plains of Kansas. On that field of fanaticism, three years ago, this fair and gentle youth was thrown into contactwith the pirate and robber of civil warfare. 

Now look at John Cook, the follower. He is in evidence before you. Never did I plead for a face that I was more willing to show. If evilis there, I have not seen it. If murder is there, I am to learn to markthe lines of the murderer anew. If the assassin is in that young face, then commend me to the look of an assassin. No, gentlemen, it is a facefor a mother to love, and a sister to idolize, and in which the naturalgoodness of his heart pleads trumpet-tongued against the deep damnationthat estranged him from home and its principles. 

John Brown was the despotic leader and John E. Cook was an ill-fatedfollower of an enterprise whose horror be now realizes and deplores. Idefy the man, here or elsewhere, who has ever known John E. Cook, whohas ever looked once fully into his face, and learned anything of hishistory, to lay his hand on his heart and say that he believes himguilty of the origin or the results of the outbreak at Harper's Ferry. 

Here, then, are the two characters whom you are thinking to punishalike. Can it be that a jury of Christian men will find nodiscrimination should be made between them? Are the tempter and thetempted the same in your eyes? Is the beguiled youth to die the same asthe old offender who has pondered his crimes for thirty years? Arethere no grades in your estimations of guilt? Is each one, withoutrespect to age or circumstances, to be beaten with the same number ofstripes?

Such is not the law, human or divine. We are all to be rewardedaccording to our works, whether in punishment for evil, or blessingsfor good that we have done. You are here to do justice, and if justicerequires the same fate to befall Cook that befalls Brown, I knownothing of her rules, and do not care to learn. They are as widelyasunder, in all that constitutes guilt, as the poles of the earth, andshould be dealt with accordingly. It is in your power to do so, and bythe principles by which you yourselves are willing to be judgedhereafter, I implore you to do it!

IN DEFENSE OF THE SOLDIERS

Published in "Depew's Library of Oratory, " E. J. Bowen and Company, New York, publishers

BY JOSIAH QUINCY, JR. 

May it please your honors, and you gentlemen of the jury, --We have atlength gone through the evidence in behalf of the prisoners. Thewitnesses have now placed before you that state of facts from whichresults our defense. 

I stated to you, gentlemen, your duty in opening this cause--do notforget the discharge of it. You are paying a debt you owe the communityfor your own protection and safety: by the same mode of trial are yourown rights to receive a determination; and in your turn a time may comewhen you will expect and claim a similar return from some other jury ofyour fellow subjects. 

How much need was there for my desire that you should suspend yourjudgment till the witnesses were all examined? How different is thecomplexion of the cause? Will not all this serve to show every honestman the little truth to be attained in partial hearings? In the presentcase, how great was the prepossession against us? And I appeal to you, gentlemen, what cause there now is to alter our sentiments? Will anysober, prudent man countenance the proceedings of the people in KingStreet, --can any one justify their conduct, --is there any one man orany body of men who are interested to espouse and support theirconduct?

Surely, no! But our inquiry must be confined to the legality of theirconduct, and here can be no difficulty. It was certainly illegal, unless many witnesses are directly perjured: witnesses, who have noapparent interest to falsify, --witnesses who have given their testimonywith candor and accuracy, --witnesses whose credibility standsuntouched, --whose credibility the counsel for the king do not pretendto impeach or hint a suggestion to their disadvantage. 

I say, gentlemen, by the standard of the law are we to judge theactions of the people who were the assailants and those who were theassailed and then on duty. And here, gentlemen, the rule we formerlylaid down takes place. To the facts, gentlemen, apply yourselves. Consider them as testified; weigh the credibility of the witnesses--balance their testimony--compare the several parts of it--see theamount of it; and then, according to your oath, "make true deliveranceaccording to your evidence. " That is, gentlemen, having settled thefacts, bring them truly to the standard of the law; the king's judges, who are acquainted with it, who are presumed best to know it, will theninspect this great standard of right and wrong, truth and justice; andthey are to determine the degree of guilt to which the fact rises. 

II

May it please your honors, and you gentlemen of the jury, --After havingthus gone through the evidence and considered it as applicatory to alland every one of the prisoners, let us take once more a brief andcursory survey of matters supported by the evidence. And here let meask in sober reason, what language more opprobrious, what actions moreexasperating, than those used on this occasion? Words, I am sensible, are no justification of blows, but they serve as the grand clew todiscover the temper and the designs of the agents; they serve also togive us light in discerning the apprehensions and thoughts of those whoare the objects of abuse. 

"You lobsters!"--"You bloody-back!"--"You coward!"--"You dastard!" arebut some of the expressions proved. What words more galling? What morecutting and provoking to a soldier? But accouple these words with thesucceeding actions, --"You dastard!"--"You coward!" A soldier and acoward!

This was touching "the point of honor and the pride of virtue. " Butwhile these are as yet fomenting the passions and swelling the bosom, the attack is made; and probably the latter words were reiterated atthe onset; at least, were yet sounding in the ear. Gentlemen of thejury, for Heaven's sake, let us put ourselves in the same situation!Would you not spurn at that spiritless institution of society whichtells you to be a subject at the expense of your manhood?

But does the soldier step out of his ranks to seek his revenge? Not awitness pretends it. Did not the people repeatedly come within thepoints of their bayonets and strike on the muzzles of the guns? Youhave heard the witnesses. 

Does the law allow one member of the community to behave in this mannertowards his fellow citizen, and then bid the injured party be calm andmoderate? The expressions from one party were--"Stand off, standoff!"--"I am upon my station. "--"If they molest me upon my post, I willfire. "--"Keep off!"

These words were likely to produce reflection and procure peace. Buthad the words on the other hand a similar tendency? Consider the temperprevalent among all parties at this time. Consider the situation of thesoldiery; and come to the heat and pressure of the action. Thematerials are laid, the spark is raised, the fire enkindles, allprudence and true wisdom are utterly consumed. Does common sense, doesthe law expect impossibilities?

Here, to expect equanimity of temper, would be as irrational as toexpect discretion in a madman. But was anything done on the part of theassailants similar to the conduct, warnings, and declarations of theprisoners? Answer for yourselves, gentlemen! The words reiterated allaround stabbed to the heart; the actions of the assailants tended to aworse end, --to awaken every passion of which the human breast issusceptible; fear, anger, pride, resentment, revenge, alternately takepossession of the whole man. 

To expect, under these circumstances, that such words would assuage thetempest, that such actions would allay the flames, --you might asrationally expect the inundations of a torrent would suppress a deluge, or rather that the flames of Aetna would extinguish a conflagration!

III

Gentlemen of the Jury, --This case has taken up much of your time, andis likely to take up so much more that I must hasten to a close. Indeed, I should not have troubled you, by being thus lengthy, but froma sense of duty to the prisoners; they who in some sense may be said tohave put their lives in my hands; they whose situation was so peculiarthat we have necessarily taken up more time than ordinary casesrequire. They, under all these circumstances, placed a confidence itwas my duty not to disappoint, and which I have aimed at dischargingwith fidelity. I trust you, gentlemen, will do the like; that you willexamine and judge with a becoming temper of mind; remembering that theywho are under oath to declare the whole truth think and act verydifferently from bystanders, who, being under no ties of this kind, take a latitude which is by no means admissible in a court of law. 

I cannot close this cause better than by desiring you to consider wellthe genius and spirit of the law which will be laid down, and to governyourselves by this great standard of truth. To some purposes, you maybe said, gentlemen, to be ministers of justice; and "ministers, " says alearned judge, "appointed for the ends of public justice, should havewritten on their hearts the solemn engagements of his Majesty, at hiscoronation, to cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all hisjudgments. "

 "The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven:... It is twice blessed; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. "

I leave you, gentlemen, hoping you will be directed in your inquiry andjudgment to a right discharge of your duty. We shall all of us, gentlemen, have an hour of cool reflection when the feelings andagitations of the day shall have subsided; when we shall view thingsthrough a different and a much juster medium. It is then we all wish anabsolving conscience. May you, gentlemen, now act such a part as willhereafter insure it; such a part as may occasion the prisoners torejoice. May the blessing of those who were in jeopardy of life comeupon you--may the blessing of Him who is "not faulty to die" descendand rest upon you and your posterity. 

IN DEFENSE OF LORD GEORGE GORDON

Before the Court of King's Bench, 1781

BY LORD THOMAS ERSKINE

Gentlemen, --You have now heard, upon the solemn oaths of honest, disinterested men, a faithful history of the conduct of Lord GeorgeGordon, from the day that he became a member of the ProtestantAssociation to the day that he was committed a prisoner to the Tower. And I have no doubt, from the attention with which I have been honoredfrom the beginning, that you have still kept in your minds theprinciples to which I entreated you would apply it, and that you havemeasured it by that standard. You have, therefore, only to look back tothe whole of it together; to reflect on all you have heard concerninghim; to trace him in your recollection through every part of thetransaction; and, considering it with one manly, liberal view, to askyour own honest hearts, whether you can say that this noble andunfortunate youth is a wicked and deliberate traitor, who deserves byyour verdict to suffer a shameful and ignominious death, which willstain the ancient honors of his house forever. 

The crime which the Crown would have fixed upon him is, that heassembled the Protestant Association round the House of Commons, notmerely to influence and persuade Parliament by the earnestness of theirsupplications, but actually to coerce it by hostile, rebellious force;that, finding himself disappointed in the success of that coercion, heafterward incited his followers to abolish the legal indulgences toPapists, which the object of the petition was to repeal, by the burningof their houses of worship, and the destruction of their property, which ended, at last, in a general attack on the property of all ordersof men, religious and civil, on the public treasures of the nation, andon the very being of the government. 

To support a charge of so atrocious and unnatural a complexion, thelaws of the most arbitrary nations would require the mostincontrovertible proof. And what evidence, gentlemen of the jury, doesthe Crown offer to you in compliance with these sound and sacreddoctrines of justice? A few broken, interrupted, disjointed words, without context or connection--uttered by the speaker in agitation andheat--heard, by those who relate them to you, in the midst of tumultand confusion--and even those words, mutilated as they are, in directopposition to, and inconsistent with, repeated and earnest declarationsdelivered at the very same time and on the very same occasion, relatedto you by a much greater number of persons, and absolutely incompatiblewith the whole tenor of his conduct. Which of us all, gentlemen, wouldbe safe, standing at the bar of God or man, if we were not to be judgedby the regular current of our lives and conversations, but by detachedand unguarded expressions, picked out by malice, and recorded, withoutcontext or circumstances, against us? Yet such is the only evidence onwhich the Crown asks you to dip your hands, and to stain yourconsciences, in the innocent blood of the noble and unfortunate youthwho stands before you. 

I am sure you cannot but see, notwithstanding my great inability, increased by a perturbation of mind (arising, thank God! from nodishonest cause), that there has been not only no evidence on the partof the Crown to fix the guilt of the late commotions upon the prisoner, but that, on the contrary, we have been able to resist the probability, I might almost say the possibility of the charge, not only by livingwitnesses, whom we only ceased to call because the trial would neverhave ended, but by the evidence of all the blood that has paid theforfeit of that guilt already; since, out of all the felons who werelet loose from prisons, and who assisted in the destruction of ourproperty, not a single wretch was to be found who could even attempt tosave his own life by the plausible promise of giving evidence to-day. 

What can overturn such a proof as this? Surely a good man might, without superstition, believe that such a union of events was somethingmore than natural, and that a Divine Providence was watchful for theprotection of innocence and truth. 

I may now, therefore, relieve you from the pain of hearing me anylonger, and be myself relieved from speaking on a subject whichagitates and distresses me. Since Lord George Gordon stands clear ofevery hostile act or purpose against the Legislature of his country, orthe properties of his fellow-subjects--since the whole tenor of conductrepels the belief of the _traitorous intention_ charged by theindictment--my task is finished. I shall make no address to yourpassions. I will not remind you of the long and rigorous imprisonmenthe has suffered; I will not speak to you of his great youth, of hisillustrious birth, and of his uniformly animated and generous zeal inParliament for the Constitution of his country. Such topics might beuseful in the balance; yet, even then, I should have trusted to thehonest hearts of Englishmen to have felt them without excitation. Atpresent, the plain and rigid rules of justice and truth are sufficientto entitle me to your verdict. 

PRONOUNCING SENTENCE FOR HIGH TREASON

BY SIR ALFRED WILLS

Arthur Alfred Lynch, otherwise Arthur Lynch, the jury have found youguilty of the crime of high treason, a crime happily so rare that inthe present day a trial for treason seems to be almost an anachronism--a thing of the past. The misdeeds which have been done in this case, and which have brought you to the lamentable pass in which you stand, must surely convince the most skeptical and apathetic of the gravityand reality of the crime. What was your action in the darkest hour ofyour country's fortunes, when she was engaged in the deadly strugglefrom which she has just emerged? You joined the ranks of your country'sfoes. Born in Australia, a land which has nobly shown its devotion toits parent country, you have indeed taken a different course from thatwhich was adopted by her sons. You have fought against your country, not with it. You have sought, as far as you could, to dethrone GreatBritain from her place among the nations, to make her name a byword anda reproach, a synonym for weakness and irresolution. Nor can I forgetthat you have shed the blood, or done your best to shed the blood, ofyour countrymen who were fighting for their country. How many wiveshave been made widows, how many children orphans, by what you and thosewho acted under your command have done, Heaven only knows! You thoughtit safe at that dark hour of the Empire's fate, when Ladysmith, whenKimberley, when Mafeking, were in the very jaws of deadly peril--youthought it safe, no doubt, to lift the parricidal hand against yourcountry. You thought she would shrink from the costly struggle weariedout by her gigantic efforts, and that, at the worst, a general peacewould be made which would comprehend a general amnesty and cover upsuch acts as yours and save you from personal peril. You misjudged yourcountry and failed to appreciate that, though slow to enter into aquarrel, however slow to take up arms, it has yet been her wont that inthe quarrel she shall bear herself so that the opposer may beware ofher, and that she is seldom so dangerous to her enemies as when thehour of national calamity has raised the dormant energies of herpeople--knit together every nerve and fiber of the body politic, andhas made her sons determined to do all, to sacrifice all on behalf ofthe country that gave them birth. And against what a Sovereign and whata country did you lift your hand! A Sovereign the best beloved and mostdeeply honored of all the long line of English Kings and Queens, andwhose lamented death was called back to my remembrance only yesterdayas a fresh sorrow to many an English household. Against a country whichhas been the home of progress and freedom, and under whose beneficentsway, whenever you have chosen to stay within her dominions, you haveenjoyed a liberty of person, a freedom of speech and action, such asyou can have in no other country in Europe, and it is not too much tosay in no other country in the world. The only--I will not say excuse, but palliation that I can find for conduct like yours is that it hasbeen for some years past the fashion to treat lightly matters of thiskind, so that men have been perhaps encouraged to play with seditionand to toy with treason, wrapt in a certain proud consciousness ofstrength begotten of the deep-seated and well-founded conviction thatthe loyalty of her people is supreme, and true authority in thiscountry has slumbered or has treated with contemptuous indifferencespeeches and acts of sedition. It may be that you have been misled intothe notion that, no matter what you did, so long as your conduct couldbe called a political crime, it was of no consequence. But it is onething to talk sedition and to do small seditious acts, it is quiteanother thing to bear arms in the ranks of the foes of your country, and against it. Between the two the difference is immeasurable. But hadyou and those with whom you associated yourself succeeded, what fatalmischief might have been done to the great inheritance which has beenbequeathed to us by our forefathers--that inheritance of power which itmust be our work to use nobly and for good things; an inheritance ofinfluence which will be of little effect even for good unless backed bypower, and of duty which cannot be effectually performed if our powerbe shattered and our influence impaired. He who has attempted to do hiscountry such irreparable wrong must be prepared to submit to thesentence which it is now my duty to pronounce upon you. The sentence ofthis Court--and it is pronounced in regard to each count of theindictment--is that you be taken hence to the place from which youcame, and from thence to a place of execution, there to be hanged bythe neck until you are dead. 

THE IMPEACHMENT OF ANDREW JOHNSON

From the Official Records of the Trial in the United States Senate, 1868

BY GEORGE S. BOUTWELL

Andrew Johnson has disregarded and violated the laws and Constitutionof his own country. Under his administration the government has notbeen strengthened, but weakened. Its reputation and influence at homeand abroad have been injured and diminished. Ten States of this Unionare without law, without security, without safety; public ordereverywhere violated, public justice nowhere respected; and all inconsequence of the evil purposes and machinations of the President. Forty millions of people have been rendered anxious and uncertain as tothe preservation of public peace and the perpetuity of the institutionsof freedom in this country. All classes are oppressed by the privateand public calamities which he has brought upon them. They appeal toyou for relief. The nation waits in anxiety for the conclusion of theseproceedings. Forty millions of people, whose interest in public affairsis in the wise and just administration of the laws, look to thistribunal as a sure defense against the encroachments of a criminallyminded Chief Magistrate. 

Will any one say that the heaviest judgment which you can render is anyadequate punishment for these crimes? Your office is not punishment, but to secure the safety of the republic. But human tribunals areinadequate to punish those criminals who, as rulers or magistrates, bytheir example, conduct, policy, and crimes, become the scourge ofcommunities and nations. No picture, no power of the imagination, canillustrate or conceive the suffering of the poor but loyal people ofthe South. A patriotic, virtuous, law-abiding chief magistrate wouldhave healed the wounds of war, soothed private and public sorrows, protected the weak, encouraged the strong, and lifted from the Southernpeople the burdens which now are greater than they can bear. 

Travelers and astronomers inform us that in the southern heavens, nearthe southern cross, there is a vast space which the uneducated call thehole in the sky, where the eye of man, with the aid of the powers ofthe telescope, has been unable to discover nebulae, or asteroid, orcomet, or planet, or star, or sun. In that dreary, cold, dark region ofspace, which is only known to be less than infinite by the evidences ofcreation elsewhere, the Great Author of celestial mechanism has leftthe chaos which was in the beginning. If this earth were capable of thesentiments and emotions of justice and virtue, which in human mortalbeings are the evidences and the pledge of our Divine origin andimmortal destiny, it would heave and throw, with the energy of theelemental forces of nature, and project this enemy of two races of meninto that vast region, there forever to exist in a solitude eternal aslife, or as the absence of life, emblematical of, if not really, that"outer darkness" of which the Savior of man spoke in warning to thosewho are the enemies of themselves, of their race, and of their God. Butit is yours to relieve, not to punish. This done and our country isagain advanced in the intelligent opinion of mankind. In othergovernments an unfaithful ruler can be removed only by revolution, violence, or force. The proceeding here is judicial, and according tothe forms of law. Your judgment will be enforced without the aid of apoliceman or a soldier. What other evidence will be needed of the valueof republican institutions? What other test of the strength and vigorof our government? What other assurance that the virtue of the peopleis equal to any emergency of national life?

BY WILLIAM M. EVARTS

Mr. Chief Justice and Senators, --If indeed we have arrived at a settledconclusion that this is a court, that it is governed by the law, thatit is to confine its attention to the facts applicable to the law, andregard the sole evidence of those facts to be embraced within thetestimony of witnesses or documents produced in court, we have madegreat progress in separating, at least, from your further considerationmuch that has been impressed upon your attention heretofore. It followsfrom this that the President is to be tried upon the charges which areproduced here, and not upon common fame. 

I may as conveniently at this point of the argument as at any other paysome attention to the astronomical punishment which the learned andhonorable manager, Mr. Boutwell, thinks should be applied to this novelcase of impeachment of the President. Cicero I think it is who saysthat a lawyer should know everything, for sooner or later there is nofact in history, in science, or of human knowledge that will not comeinto play in his arguments. Painfully sensible of my ignorance, beingdevoted to a profession which "sharpens and does not enlarge the mind, "I yet can admire without envy the superior knowledge evinced by thehonorable manager. Indeed, upon my soul, I believe he is aware of anastronomical fact which many professors of that science are whollyignorant of. But nevertheless, while some of his honorable colleagueswere paying attention to an unoccupied and unappropriated island on thesurface of the seas, Mr. Manager Boutwell, more ambitious, haddiscovered an untenanted and unappropriated region in the skies, reserved, he would have us think, in the final councils of theAlmighty, as the place of punishment for convicted and deposed AmericanPresidents. 

At first I thought that his mind had become so "enlarged" that it wasnot "sharp" enough to discover the Constitution had limited thepunishment; but on reflection I saw that he was as legal and logical ashe was ambitious and astronomical, for the Constitution has said"removal from office, " and has put no limit to the distance of theremoval, so that it may be, without shedding a drop of his blood, ortaking a penny of his property, or confining his limbs, instant removalfrom office and transportation to the skies. Truly, this is a greatundertaking; and if the learned manager can only get over the obstaclesof the laws of nature the Constitution will not stand in his way. Hecan contrive no method but that of a convulsion of the earth that shallproject the deposed President to this infinitely distant space; but ashock of nature of so vast an energy and for so great a result on himmight unsettle even the footing of the firm members of Congress. Wecertainly need not resort to so perilous a method as that. How shall weaccomplish it? Why, in the first place, nobody knows where that spaceis but the learned manager himself, and he is the necessary deputy toexecute the judgment of the court. 

Let it then be provided that in case of your sentence of deposition andremoval from office the honorable and astronomical manager shall takeinto his own hands the execution of the sentence. With the Presidentmade fast to his broad and strong shoulders, and, having alreadyessayed the flight by imagination, better prepared than anybody else toexecute it in form, taking the advantage of ladders as far as ladderswill go to the top of this great Capitol, and spurning then with hisfoot the crest of Liberty, let him set out upon his flight, while thetwo houses of Congress and all the people of the United States shallshout, "_Sic itur ad astra_. "

II

But here a distressing doubt strikes me; how will the manager get back?He will have got far beyond the reach of gravitation to restore him, and so ambitious a wing as his could never stoop to a downward flight. Indeed, as he passes through the constellations, that famous questionof Carlyle by which he derides the littleness of human affairs upon thescale of the measure of the heavens, "What thinks Bœotes as he driveshis dogs up the zenith in their race of sidereal fire?" will forceitself on his notice. What, indeed, would Bœotes think of this newconstellation?

Besides, reaching this space, beyond the power of Congress even "tosend for persons and papers, " how shall he return, and how decide inthe contest, there become personal and perpetual, the struggle ofstrength between him and the President? In this new revolution, thusestablished forever, who shall decide which is the sun and which is themoon? Who determine the only scientific test which reflects the hardestupon the other?

Mr. Chief Justice and Senators, we have come all at once to the greatexperiences and trials of a full-grown nation, all of which we thoughtwe should escape--the distractions of civil strife, the exhaustions ofpowerful war. We could summon from the people a million of men andinexhaustible treasure to help the Constitution in its time of need. Can we summon now resources enough of civil prudence and of restraintof passion to carry us through this trial, so that whatever result mayfollow, in whatever form, the people may feel that the Constitution hasreceived no wound! To this court, the last and best resort for thisdetermination, it is to be left. And oh, if you could only carryyourselves back to the spirit and the purpose and the wisdom and thecourage of the framers of the government, how safe would it be in yourhands? How safe is it now in your hands, for you who have entered intotheir labors will see to it that the structure of your work comports indurability and excellence with theirs. Indeed, so familiar has thecourse of the argument made us with the names of the men of theconvention and of the first Congress that I could sometimes seem tothink that the presence even of the Chief Justice was replaced by theserene majesty of Washington, and that from Massachusetts we had Adamsand Ames, from Connecticut, Sherman and Ellsworth, from New Jersey, Paterson and Boudinot, and from New York, Hamilton and Benson, and thatthey were to determine this case for us. Act, then, as if under thisserene and majestic presence your deliberations were to be conducted totheir close, and the Constitution was to come out from the watchfulsolicitude of these great guardians of it as if from their own judgmentin this court of impeachment. 

THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECH

AT A UNIVERSITY CLUB DINNER

Reprinted, with the author's permission, from a speech at a dinner ofThe Harvard Club of New York City. 

BY HENRY E. HOWLAND

There should be a proper amount of modesty in one called upon toaddress such an intelligent audience of educated men as I see beforeme, and I am conscious of it in the same sense as the patient who saidto his physician, "I suffer a great deal from nervous dyspepsia, and Iattribute it to the fact that I attend so many public dinners. " "Ah, Isee, " said the doctor, "you are often called upon to speak, and thenervous apprehension upsets your digestion. " "Not at all; myapprehension is entirely on account of the other speakers; I never saya thing;" and it is with some hesitation that I respond to your call. 

Following out that line of thought, there is a great deal that isattractive in a gathering of College men. They have such a winsome anda winning way with them. 

Richest in endowments, foremost in progress, honored by the renown of along line of distinguished sons, the university that claims you isworthy of the homage and respect which it receives from the educatedmen of America. 

The study of the development of the human race by educational processeswhich change by necessity under changing conditions and environment, isone of the most interesting that we can engage in. The greatest men ofthis country, or any other, have not always been made by theuniversity, however it may be with the average. You cannot always tellby a man's degree what manner of man he is likely to be. But the valueof a technical or academic training is apparent as time goes on, population increases, occupations multiply and compete, and the strifeof life becomes more fierce and strenuous. 

Many in these days seem to prefer notoriety to fame, because it runsalong the line of least resistance. A man has to climb for fame, but hecan get notoriety by an easy tumble. And others forget the oneessential necessary to success, of personal effort, and, assuming thereis a royal road to learning, are content with the distinction of adegree from a university, without caring for what it implies, andanswer as the son did to his father who asked him: "Why don't you work, my son? If you only knew how much happiness work brings, you wouldbegin at once. " "Father, I am trying to lead a life of self-denial inwhich happiness cuts no figure; do not tempt me. "

But notwithstanding all these tendencies, the level of mankind israised at these fountains of learning, the tone is higher, and thestandards are continually advanced. The discipline and the trainingreaches and acts upon a willing and eager army of young recruits andworks its salutary effect, like that upon a man who listened with raptattention to a discourse from the pulpit and was congratulated upon hisdevotion, and asked if he was not impressed. "Yes, " he replied, "for itis a mighty poor sermon that doesn't hit me somewhere. "

However discouraging the action of our governing bodies through theobstruction and perverse action of an ignorant or corrupt majority orminority in them may be in the administration of great public affairs, the time at last comes when the nation arouses from its lethargy, shakes off its torpor, shows the strain of its blood, and follows itstrained and intelligent leaders, like the man who, in a time of soredistress, after the ancient fashion, put ashes on his head, rent hisgarments, tore off his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt, and hisundershirt, and at last came to himself. At such times, by theuniversal voice of public opinion and amid hearty applause of the wholepeople, we welcome to public office and the highest responsiblestations such men as our universities have given to the country. Itmatters not to what family we belong--Harvard, Yale, Columbia, orPrinceton--we are all of us one in our welcome to them, for theyrepresent the university spirit and what it teaches--honor, high-mindedness, intelligence, truthfulness, unselfishness, courage, andpatriotism. 

THE EVACUATION OF NEW YORK

Reprinted with the author's permission

BY JOSEPH H. CHOATE

Mr. President and Gentlemen, --I came here to-night with some notes fora speech in my pocket, but I have been sitting next to General Butler, and in the course of the evening they have mysteriously disappeared. The consequence is, gentlemen, that you may expect a very good speechfrom him and a very poor one from me. When I read this toast which youhave just drunk in honor of Her Gracious Majesty, the Queen of GreatBritain, and heard how you received the letter of the British Ministerthat was read in response, and how heartily you joined in singing "GodSave the Queen, " when I look up and down these tables and see among youso many representatives of English capital and English trade, I have mydoubts whether the evacuation of New York by the British was quite asthorough and lasting as history would fain have us believe. If GeorgeIII, who certainly did all he could to despoil us of our rights andliberties and bring us to ruin--if he could rise from his grave and seehow his granddaughter is honored at your hands to-night, why, I thinkhe would return whence he came, thanking God that his efforts toenslave us, in which for eight long years he drained the resources ofthe British Empire, were not successful. 

The truth is, the boasted triumph of New York in getting rid of theBritish once and forever has proved, after all, to be but a dismalfailure. We drove them out in one century only to see them return inthe next to devour our substance and to carry off all the honors. Wehave just seen the noble Chief Justice of England, the feasted favoriteof all America, making a triumphal tour across the Continent andcarrying all before him at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Night afternight at our very great cost we have been paying the richest tribute tothe reigning monarch of the British stage, and nowhere in the world areEnglish men and women of character and culture received with a morehearty welcome, a more earnest hospitality, than in this very state ofNew York. The truth is, that this event that we celebrate to-day, whichsealed the independence of America and seemed for a time to give astaggering blow to the prestige and the power of England, has proved tobe no less a blessing to her own people than to ours. The latest andbest of the English historians has said that, however important theindependence of America might be in the history of England, it was ofoverwhelming importance in the history of the world, and that though itmight have crippled for a while the supremacy of the English nation, itfounded the supremacy of the English race. And in the same spirit wewelcome the fact that those social, political, and material barriersthat separated the two nations a century ago have now utterly vanished;that year by year we are being drawn closer and closer together, andthat this day may be celebrated with equal fitness on both sides of theAtlantic and by all who speak the English tongue. 

TIES OF KINSHIP

From "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. I, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY SIR EDWIN ARNOLD

When I was conversing recently with Lord Tennyson, he said to me: "Itis bad for us that English will always be a spoken speech, since thatmeans that it will always be changing, and so the time will come whenyou and I will be as hard to read for the common people as Chaucer isto-day. " You remember what opinion your brilliant humorist, ArtemusWard, let fall concerning that ancient singer. "Mr. Chaucer, " heobserved casually, "is an admirable poet, but as a spellist, a verydecided failure. "

To the treasure house of that noble tongue the United States hassplendidly contributed. It would be far poorer to-day without thetender lines of Longfellow, the serene and philosophic pages ofEmerson, the convincing wit and clear criticism of my illustriousdeparted friend, James Russell Lowell, the Catullus-like perfection ofthe lyrics of Edgar Allan Poe, and the glorious, large-tempereddithyrambs of Walt Whitman. 

These stately and sacred laurel groves grow here in a garden foreverextending, ever carrying further forward, for the sake of humanity, theirresistible flag of our Saxon supremacy, leading one to falter in anattempt to eulogize America and the idea of her potency and herpromise. The most elaborate panegyric would seem but a weakimpertinence, which would remind you, perhaps too vividly, of SydneySmith, who, when he saw his grandchild pat the back of a large turtle, asked her why she did so. The little maid replied: "Grandpa, I do it toplease the turtle. " "My child, " he answered, "you might as well strokethe dome of St. Paul's to please the Dean and chapter"

I myself once heard, in our Zoological gardens in London, anotherlittle girl ask her mamma whether it would hurt the elephant if sheoffered him a chocolate drop. In that guarded and respectful spirit isit that I venture to tell you here to-night how truly in England thepeace and prosperity of your republic is desired, and that nothingexcept good will is felt by the mass of our people toward you, andnothing but the greatest satisfaction in your wealth and progress. 

Between these two majestic sisters of the Saxon blood the hatchet ofwar is, please God, buried. No cause of quarrel, I think and hope, canever be otherwise than truly out of proportion to the vaster causes ofaffection and accord. We have no longer to prove to each other, or tothe world, that Englishmen and Americans are high-spirited andfearless; that Englishmen and Americans alike will do justice, and willhave justice, and will put up with nothing else from each other andfrom the nations at large. Our proofs are made on both sides, andindelibly written on the page of history. Not that I wish to speakplatitudes about war. It has been necessary to human progress; it hasbred and preserved noble virtues; it has been inevitable, and may beagain; but it belongs to a low civilization. Other countries have, perhaps, not yet reached that point of intimate contact and rationaladvance, but for us two, at least, the time seems to have come whenviolent decisions, and even talk of them, should be as much abolishedbetween us as cannibalism. 

I ventured, when in Washington, to propose to President Harrison thatwe should some day, the sooner the better, choose five men of publicworth in the United States, and five in England; give them gold coatsif you please, and a handsome salary, and establish them as a standingand supreme tribunal of arbitration, referring to them the littlefamily fallings-out of America and of England, whenever something goeswrong between us about a sealskin in Behring Strait, a lobster pot, anambassador's letter, a border tariff, or an Irish vote. He showedhimself very well disposed toward my suggestion. 

Mr. President, in the sacred hope that you take me to be a better poetthan orator, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for yourreception to-night, and personally pray for the tranquility andprosperity of this free and magnificent republic. 

CANADA, ENGLAND, AND THE UNITED STATES

From an address in Brewer's "The World's Best Orations, " Vol. VII, FerdP. Kaiser, St. Louis, Chicago, publishers. 

BY SIR WILFRED LAURIER

Mr. Toastmaster, Mr. President, and Gentlemen, --I very fully and verycordially appreciate the very kind feelings which have just now beenuttered by the toastmaster in terms so eloquent, and which yougentlemen have accepted and received in so sympathetic a manner. Let mesay at once, in the name of my fellow-Canadians who are here with meand also, I may say, in the name of the Canadian people, that thesefeelings we shall at all times reciprocate; reciprocate, not only inwords evanescent, but in actual living deeds. 

Because I must say that I feel that, though the relations betweenCanada and the United States are good, though they are brotherly, though they are satisfactory, in my judgment they are not as good, asbrotherly, as satisfactory as they ought to be. We are of the samestock. We spring from the same races on one side of the line as on theother. We speak the same language. We have the same literature, and formore than a thousand years we have had a common history. 

Let me recall to you the lines which, in the darkest days of the CivilWar, the Puritan poet of America issued to England:--

 "Oh, Englishmen! Oh, Englishmen! In hope and creed, In blood and tongue, are brothers, We all are heirs of Runnymede. "

Brothers we are, in the language of your own poet. May I not say thatwhile our relations are not always as brotherly as they should havebeen, may I not ask, Mr. President, on the part of Canada and on thepart of the United States, if we are sometimes too prone to stand bythe full conceptions of our rights, and exact all our rights to thelast pound of flesh? May I not ask if there have not been too oftenbetween us petty quarrels, which happily do not wound the heart of thenation?

There was a civil war in the last century. There was a civil warbetween England, then, and her colonies. The union which then existedbetween England and her colonies was severed. If it was severed, American citizens, as you know it was, through no fault of yourfathers, the fault was altogether the fault of the British Governmentof that day. If the British Government of that day had treated theAmerican colonies as the British Government for the last twenty orfifty years has treated its colonies; if Great Britain had given youthen the same degree of liberty which it gives to Canada, my country;if it had given you, as it has given us, legislative independenceabsolute, --the result would have been different; the course of victory, the course of history, would have been very different. 

But what has been done cannot be undone. You cannot expect that theunion which was then severed shall ever be restored; but can we notexpect--can we not hope that the banners of England and the banners ofthe United States shall never, never again meet in conflict, exceptthose conflicts provided by the arts of peace, such as we see to-day inthe harbor of New York in the contest between the _Shamrock_ andthe _Columbia_ for the supremacy of naval architecture and navalprowess? Can we not hope that if ever the banners of England and thebanners of the United States are again to meet on the battlefield, theyshall meet entwined together in the defense of some holy cause, in thedefense of holy justice, for the defense of the oppressed, for theenfranchisement of the downtrodden, and for the advancement of liberty, progress, and civilization?

MONSIEUR AND MADAME

From a speech in "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. I, Geo. L. Shuman andCompany, Chicago, publishers. 

BY PAUL BLOUET (MAX O'RELL)

Now, the attitude of men towards women is very different, according tothe different nations to which they belong. You will find a goodillustration of that different attitude of men toward women in France, in England, and in America, if you go to the dining-rooms of theirhotels. You go to the dining-room, and you take, if you can, a seatnear the entrance door, and you watch the arrival of the couples, andalso watch them as they cross the room and go to the table that isassigned to them by the head waiter. Now, in Europe, you would find avery polite head waiter, who invites you to go in, and asks you whereyou will sit; but in America the head waiter is a most magnificentpotentate who lies in wait for you at the door, and bids you to followhim sometimes in the following respectful manner, beckoning, "There. "And you have got to do it, too. 

I traveled six times in America, and I never saw a man so daring as notto sit there. In the tremendous hotels of the large cities, where youhave got to go to Number 992 or something of the sort, I generally gota little entertainment out of the head waiter. He is so thoroughlypersuaded that it would never enter my head not to follow him, he willnever look round to see if I am there. Why, he knows I am there, butI'm not. I wait my time, and when he has got to the end I am sittingdown waiting for a chance to be left alone. He says, "You cannot sithere. " I say: "Why not? What is the matter with this seat?" He says, "You must not sit there. " I say, "I don't want a constitutional walk;don't bother, I'm all right. " Once, indeed, after an article in the_North American Review_--for your head waiter in America readsreviews--a head waiter told me to sit where I pleased. I said, "Now, wait a minute, give me time to realize that; do I understand that inthis hotel I am going to sit where I like?" He said, "Certainly!" Hewas in earnest. I said, "I should like to sit over there at that tablenear the window. " He said, "All right, come with me. " When I came out, there were some newspaper people in the hotel waiting for me, and itwas reported in half a column in one of the papers, with one of thosecharming headlines which are so characteristic of American journalism, "Max sits where he likes!" Well, I said, you go to the dining-room, youtake your seat, and you watch the arrival of the couples, and you willknow the position of men. In France Monsieur and Madame come intogether abreast, as a rule arm in arm. They look pleasant, smile, andtalk to each other. They smile at each other, even though married. 

In England, in the same class of hotel, John Bull comes in first. Hedoes not look happy. John Bull loves privacy. He does not like to beobliged to eat in the presence of lots of people who have not beenintroduced to him, and he thinks it very hard he should not have thewhole dining-room to himself. That man, though, mind you, in his ownhouse undoubtedly the most hospitable, the most kind, the mostconsiderate of hosts in the world, that man in the dining-room of ahotel always comes in with a frown. He does not like it, he grumbles, and mild and demure, with her hands hanging down, modestly follows Mrs. John Bull. But in America, behold the arrival of Mrs. Jonathan! beholdher triumphant entry, pulling Jonathan behind! Well, I like my owncountry, and I cannot help thinking that the proper and right way isthe French. Ladies, you know all our shortcomings. Our hearts areexposed ever since the rib which covered them was taken off. Yet we askyou kindly to allow us to go through life with you, like the French, arm in arm, in good friendship and camaraderie. 

THE TYPICAL AMERICAN

From "The New South, " with the permission of Henry W. Grady, Jr. 

BY HENRY W. GRADY

Pardon me one word, Mr. President, spoken for the sole purpose ofgetting into the volumes that go out annually freighted with the richeloquence of your speakers--the fact that the Cavalier as well as thePuritan was on the continent in its early days, and that he was "up andable to be about. " I have read your books carefully and I find nomention of that fact, which seems to me an important one for preservinga sort of historical equilibrium if for nothing else. Let me remind youthat the Virginia Cavalier first challenged France on this continent--that Cavalier, John Smith, gave New England its very name, and was sopleased with the job that he has been handing his own name around eversince--and that while Miles Standish was cutting off men's ears forcourting a girl without her parents' consent, and forbade men to kisstheir wives on Sunday, the Cavalier was courting everything in sight, and that the Almighty had vouchsafed great increase to the Cavaliercolonies, the huts in the wilderness being full as the nests in thewoods. 

But having incorporated the Cavalier as a fact in your charming littlebooks, I shall let him work out his own salvation, as he always hasdone with engaging gallantry, and we will hold no controversy as to hismerits. Why should we? Neither Puritan nor Cavalier long survive assuch. The virtues and traditions of both happily still live for theinspiration of their sons and the saving of the old fashion. But bothPuritan and Cavalier were lost in the storm of the first Revolution;and the American citizen, supplanting both and stronger than either, took possession of the Republic bought by their common blood andfashioned to wisdom, and charged himself with teaching men governmentand establishing the voice of the people as the voice of God. 

My friend Dr. Talmage has told you that the typical American has yet tocome. Let me tell you that he has already come. Great types, likevaluable plants, are slow to flower and fruit. But from the union ofthese colonist Puritans and Cavaliers, from the straightening of theirpurposes and the crossing of their blood, slow perfecting through acentury, came he who stands as the first typical American, the firstwho comprehended within himself all the strength and gentleness, allthe majesty and grace, of this Republic--Abraham Lincoln. He was thesum of Puritan and Cavalier, for in his ardent nature were fused thevirtues of both, and in the depths of his great soul the faults of bothwere lost. He was greater than Puritan, greater than Cavalier, in thathe was American, and in that in his homely form were first gathered thevast and thrilling forces of his ideal government--charging it withsuch tremendous meaning and so elevating it above human suffering thatmartyrdom, though infamously aimed, came as a fitting crown to a lifeconsecrated from the cradle to human liberty. Let us, each cherishingthe traditions and honoring his fathers, build with reverent hands tothe type of this simple but sublime life, in which all types arehonored; and in our common glory as Americans there will be plenty andto spare for your forefathers and for mine. 

THE PILGRIM MOTHERS

Reprinted with the author's permission

BY JOSEPH H. CHOATE

I really don't know, at this late hour, Mr. Chairman, how you expect meto treat this difficult and tender subject. 

I might take up the subject etymologically, and try and explain howwoman ever acquired that remarkable name. But that has been done beforeme by a poet with whose stanzas you are not familiar, but whom you willrecognize as deeply versed in this subject, for he says:--

 "When Eve brought woe to all mankind, Old Adam called her woe-man, But when she woo'd with love so kind, He then pronounced her woman. 

 "But now, with folly and with pride, Their husbands' pockets trimming, The ladies are so full of whims That people call them w(h)imen. "

Mr. Chairman, I believe you said I should say something about thePilgrim mothers. Well, sir, it is rather late in the evening to ventureupon that historic subject. But, for one, I pity them. The occupants ofthe galleries will bear me witness that even these modern Pilgrims--these Pilgrims with all the modern improvements--how hard it is to putup with their weaknesses, their follies, their tyrannies, theiroppressions, their desire of dominion and rule. But when you go back tothe stern horrors of the Pilgrim rule, when you contemplate the ruggedcharacter of the Pilgrim fathers, why, you give credence to what awitty woman of Boston said--she had heard enough of the glories andsufferings of the Pilgrim fathers; for her part, she had a world ofsympathy for the Pilgrim mothers, because they not only endured allthat the Pilgrim fathers had done, but they also had to endure thePilgrim fathers to boot. Well, sir, they were afraid of woman. Theythought she was almost too refined a luxury for them to indulge in. Miles Standish spoke for them all, and I am sure that General Sherman, who so much resembles Miles Standish, not only in his military renownbut in his rugged exterior and in his warm and tender heart, will echohis words when he says:--

"I can march up to a fortress, and summon the place to surrender, Butmarch up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. I am not afraidof bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But of a thundering'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman, That I confess I'm afraidof, nor am I ashamed to confess it. "

Mr. President, did you ever see a more self-satisfied or contented setof men than these that are gathered at these tables this evening? Inever come to the Pilgrim dinner and see these men, who have achievedin the various departments of life such definite and satisfactorysuccess, but that I look back twenty or thirty or forty years, and seethe lantern-jawed boy who started out from the banks of theConnecticut, or some more remote river of New England, with fivedollars in his pocket and his father's blessing on his head and hismother's Bible in his carpetbag, to seek those fortunes which now theyhave so gloriously made. And there is one woman whom each of these, through all his progress and to the last expiring hour of his life, bears in tender remembrance. It is the mother who sent him forth withher blessing. A mother is a mother still--the holiest thing alive; andif I could dismiss you with a benediction to-night, it would be byinvoking upon the heads of you all the blessing of the mothers that weleft behind us. 

BRIGHT LAND TO WESTWARD

From "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. III, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY E. O. WOLCOTT

Mr. President and Gentlemen, --It was with great diffidence that Iaccepted the invitation of your President to respond to a toast to-night. I realized my incapacity to do justice to the occasion, while atthe same time I recognized the high compliment conveyed. I feltsomewhat as the man did respecting the Shakespeare-Bacon controversy;he said he didn't know whether Lord Bacon wrote Shakespeare's works ornot, but if he didn't, he missed the greatest opportunity of his life. 

We are a plain people, and live far away. We are provincial; we have nodistinctive literature and no great poets; our leading personage abroadof late seems to be the Honorable "Buffalo Bill"; and we use ouradjectives so recklessly that the polite badinage indulged in towardeach other by your New York editors to us seems tame and spiritless. Inmental achievement we may not have fully acquired the use of the fork, and are "but in the gristle and not yet hardened into the bone ofmanhood. " We stand toward the East somewhat as country to city cousin;about as New to Old England, only we don't feel half so badly about it, and on the whole are rather pleased with ourselves. There is not in thewhole broad West a ranch so lonely or so remote that a public school isnot within reach of it. With generous help from the East, Westerncolleges are elevating and directing Western thought, and men busymaking States yet find time to live manly lives and to lend a hand. Allthis may not be aesthetic, but it is virile, and it leads up and notdown. 

There are some things more important than the highest culture. The Westis the Almighty's reserve ground, and as the world is filling up, He isturning even the old arid plains and deserts into fertile acres, and issending there the rain as well as the sunshine. A high and gloriousdestiny awaits us; soon the balance of population will lie the otherside of the Mississippi, and the millions that are coming must findwaiting for them schools and churches, good government, and a happypeople:--

 "Who love the land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a King upon his throne, And think it kindness to his Majesty. "

In everything which pertains to progress in the West, the Yankeereėnforcements step rapidly to the front. Every year she needs more ofthem, and as the country grows the annual demand becomes greater. Genuine New Englanders are to be had on tap only in six small States, and remembering this we feel that we have the right to demand that inthe future, even more than in the past, the heads of the New Englandhouseholds weary not in the good work. 

In these days of "booms" and New Souths and Great Wests, when everybodyup North who fired a gun is made to feel that he ought to apologize forit, and good fellowship everywhere abounds, there is a sort of tendencyto fuse; only big and conspicuous things are much considered; and NewEngland being small in area and most of her distinguished people beingdead, she is just now somewhat under an eclipse. But in her past shehas undying fame. You of New England and her borders live always in theatmosphere of her glories; the scenes which tell of her achievementsare ever near at hand, and familiarity and contact may rob them oftheir charms, and dim to your eyes their sacredness. The sons of NewEngland in the West revisit her as men who make pilgrimage to some holyshrine, and her hills and valleys are still instinct with nobletraditions. In her glories and her history we claim a common heritage, and we never wander so far away from her that, with each recurringanniversary of this day, our hearts do not turn to her with renewedlove and devotion for our beloved New England; yet--

 "Not by Eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But Westward, look, the land is bright!"

WOMAN

From "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. Ill, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY THEODORE TILTON

You must not forget, Mr. President, in eulogizing the early men of NewEngland, who are your clients to-night, that it was only through thehelp of the early women of New England, who are mine, that your boastedheroes could ever have earned their title of the Pilgrim Fathers. Ahealth, therefore, to the women in the cabin of the Mayflower! Acluster of Mayflowers themselves, transplanted from summer in the oldworld to winter in the new! Counting over those matrons and maidens, they numbered, all told, just eighteen. Their names are now writtenamong the heroines of history! For as over the ashes of Cornelia stoodthe epitaph "The Mother of the Gracchi, " so over these women of thePilgrimage we write as proudly "The Mothers of the Republic. " There wasgood Mistress Bradford, whose feet were not allowed of God to kissPlymouth Rock, and who, like Moses, came only near enough to see butnot to enter the Promised Land. She was washed overboard from thedeck--and to this day the sea is her grave and Cape Cod her monument!There was Mistress Carver, wife of the first governor, who, when herhusband fell under the stroke of sudden death, followed him first withheroic grief to the grave, and then, a fortnight after, followed him withheroic joy up into Heaven! There was Mistress White--the mother of thefirst child born to the New England Pilgrims on this continent. And itwas a good omen, sir, that this historic babe was brought into theworld on board the Mayflower between the time of the casting of heranchor and the landing of her passengers--a kind of amphibious prophecythat the newborn nation was to have a birthright inheritance over thesea and over the land. There also was Rose Standish, whose name is aperpetual June fragrance, to mellow and sweeten those December winds. 

Then, after the first vessel with these women, there came other women--loving hearts drawn from the olden land by those silken threads whichafterwards harden into golden chains. For instance, Governor Bradford, a lonesome widower, went down to the seabeach, and, facing the waves, tossed a love letter over the wide ocean into the lap of AliceSouthworth in old England, who caught it up, and read it, and said, "Yes, I will go. " And she went! And it is said that the governor, athis second wedding, married his first love! Which, according to the NewTheology, furnishes the providential reason why the first Mrs. Bradfordfell overboard!

Now, gentlemen, as you sit to-night in this elegant hall, think of thehouses in which the _Mayflower_ men and women lived in that firstwinter! Think of a cabin in the wilderness--where winds whistled--wherewolves howled--where Indians yelled! And yet, within that log house, burning like a lamp, was the pure flame of Christian faith, love, patience, fortitude, heroism! As the Star of the East rested over therude manger where Christ lay, so--speaking not irreverently--thererested over the roofs of the Pilgrims a Star of the West--the Star ofEmpire; and to-day that empire is the proudest in the world!

And now, to close, let me give you just a bit of good advice. Thecottages of our forefathers had few pictures on the walls, but manyfamilies had a print of "King Charles's Twelve Good Rules, " theeleventh of which was, "Make no long meals. " Now King Charles lost hishead, and you will have leave to make a long meal. But when, after yourlong meal, you go home in the wee small hours, what do you expect tofind? You will find my toast--"Woman, a beautiful rod!" Now my adviceis, "Kiss the rod!"

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Reprinted with the author's permission

BY HORACE PORTER

The story of the life of Abraham Lincoln savors more of romance thanreality. It is more like a fable of the ancient days than the story ofa plain American of the nineteenth century. The singular vicissitudesin the life of our martyred President surround him with an interestwhich attaches to few men in history. He sprang from that class whichhe always alluded to as the "plain people, " and never attempted todisdain them. He believed that the government was made for the people, not the people for the government. He felt that true Republicanism is atorch--the more it is shaken in the hands of the people the brighter itwill burn. He was transcendently fit to be the first successfulstandard bearer of the progressive, aggressive, invincible Republicanparty. He might well have said to those who chanced to sneer at hishumble origin what a marshal of France raised from the ranks said tothe haughty nobles of Vienna boasting of their long line of descent, when they refused to associate with him: "I am an ancestor; you areonly descendants!" He was never guilty of any posing for effect, anyattitudinizing in public, any mawkish sentimentality, any of thatpuppyism so often bred by power, that dogmatism which Johnson said wasonly puppyism grown to maturity. He made no claim to knowledge he didnot possess. He felt with Addison that pedantry and learning are likehypocrisy in religion--the form of knowledge without the power of it. He had nothing in common with those men of mental malformation who areeducated beyond their intellects. 

The names of Washington and Lincoln are inseparably associated, and yetas the popular historian would have us believe one spent his entirelife in chopping down acorn trees and the other splitting them up intorails. Washington could not tell a story. Lincoln always could. AndLincoln's stories always possessed the true geometrical requisites, they were never too long, and never too broad. 

But his heart was not always attuned to mirth; its chords were oftenset to strains of sadness. Yet throughout all his trials he never lostthe courage of his convictions. When he was surrounded on all sides bydoubting Thomases, by unbelieving Saracens, by discontented Catilines, his faith was strongest. As the Danes destroyed the hearing of theirwar horses in order that they might not be affrighted by the din ofbattle, so Lincoln turned a deaf ear to all that might have discouragedhim, and exhibited an unwavering faith in the justice of the cause andthe integrity of the Union. 

It is said that for three hundred years after the battle of Thermopylęevery child in the public schools of Greece was required to recite frommemory the names of the three hundred martyrs who fell in the defenseof that pass. It would be a crowning triumph in patriotic education ifevery school child in America could contemplate each day the grandcharacter and utter the inspiring name of Abraham Lincoln, who hashanded down unto a grateful people the richest legacy which man canleave to man--the memory of a good name, the inheritance of a greatexample!

TO ATHLETIC VICTORS

From a speech at a dinner of graduates of Yale University, in New York, 1889. By the kindness of the author. 

BY HENRY E. HOWLAND

On Boston Common, under the shadow of the State House, and within theatmosphere of Harvard University, there is an inscription on a column, in honor of those who, on land and sea, maintained the cause of theircountry during four years of civil war. The visitor approaches it withrespect and reverently uncovers as he reads. 

With similar high emotions we, as citizens of the world of letters, andacknowledging particular allegiance to the province thereof founded byElihu Yale, are assembled to pour libations, to partake of asacrificial feast, and to crown with honors and with bays those who, onland and sea, with unparalleled courage and devotion, have borne theirflag to victory in desperate encounters. 

Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war. 

On large fields of strife, the record of success like that which we arecalled upon to commemorate would give the victors a high place inhistory and liken their country to ancient Thebes, --

 "Which spread her conquest o'er a thousand states, And poured her heroes through a hundred gates. "

There are many reasons why Yale men win. One is that which was statedby Lord Beaconsfield, "The Secret of success is constancy of purpose. "That alone sufficiently accounts for it. 

We are here present in no vain spirit of boasting, though if our rightto exalt ourselves were questioned, we might reply in the words of theAmerican girl who was shown some cannon at Woolwich Arsenal, thesergeant in charge remarking, "You know we took them from you at BunkerHill. " "Yes, " she replied, "I see you've got the cannon, but I guesswe've got the hill. "

We come rather in a spirit of true modesty to recognize the plaudits ofan admiring world, to tell you how they were won. It was said in thedays of Athenian pride and glory that it was easier to find a god inAthens than a man. We must be careful in these days of admiration ofathletic effort that no such imputation is laid upon us, and that thedeification of the human form divine is not carried to extremes. 

It is a curious coincidence that a love of the classics and proficiencyin intellectual pursuits should coexist with admiration for physicalperfection and with athletic superiority during all the centuries ofwhich the history is written. The youth who lisped in Attic numbers andwas brought up on the language we now so painfully and imperfectlyacquire, who was lulled to sleep by songs of Ęschylus and Sophocles, who discussed philosophy in the porches of Plato, Aristotle, andEpicurus, was a more accomplished classical scholar than the mostlearned pundit of modern times, and was a model of manly beauty, yet hewould have died to win the wreath of parsley at the Olympian games, which all esteemed an immortal prize. While, in our time, to be thewinning crew on the Isis, the Cam, the English or American Thames, isequal in honor and influence to the position of senior wrangler, valedictorian, or Deforest prize man. 

The man who wins the world's honors to-day must not be overtrainedmentally or physically; not, as John Randolph said of the soil ofVirginia, --"poor by nature and ruined by cultivation, " hollow-chested, convex in back, imperfect in sight, shuffling in gait, and flabby inmuscle. The work of such a man will be musty like his closet, narrow asthe groove he moves in, tinctured with the peculiarities that border oninsanity, and out of tune with nature. 

No man can work in the world unless he knows it, struggles with it, andbecomes a part of it, and the statement of the English statesman thatthe undergraduate of Oxford or Cambridge who had the best stomach, thehardest muscles, and the greatest ambition would be the future LordChancellor of England, had a solid basis of truth. 

Gentlemen of the bat, the oar, the racquet, the cinder path, and theleathern sphere, never were conquerors more welcome guests, in palaceor in hall, at the tables of their friends than you are here. 

You come with your laurels fresh from the fields you have won, toreceive the praise which is your due and which we so gladly bestow. Your self-denial, devotion, skill, and courage have brought honor toyour University, and for it we honor you. 

THE BABIES

At a banquet in honor of General Grant, Chicago, 1877

BY SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (Mark Twain)

MR. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMEN, --"The Babies. " Now, that's something like. We haven't all had the good fortune to be ladies; we have not all beengenerals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast works down to thebabies, we stand on common ground--for we've all been babies. It is ashame that for a thousand years the world's banquets have utterlyignored the baby, as if he didn't amount to anything! If you, gentlemen, will stop and think a minute--if you will try to go backfifty or a hundred years, to your early married life, and recontemplateyour first baby--you will remember that he amounted to a good deal--andeven something over. 

You soldiers all know that when that little fellow arrived at familyheadquarters, you had to hand in your resignation. He took entirecommand. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, andthat was the double-quick. When he called for soothing syrup, did youventure to throw out any remarks about certain services unbecoming toan officer and a gentleman? No; you got up and got it! If he orderedhis pap bottle, and it wasn't warm, did you talk back? Not you; youwent to work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menialoffice as to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to seeif it was right!--three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar tomodify the colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those immortalhiccoughs. I can taste that stuff yet. 

And how many things you learned as you went along! Sentimental youngfolks still take stock in that beautiful old saying, that when a babysmiles in his sleep it is because the angels are whispering to him. Very pretty, but "too thin"--simply wind on the stomach, my friends. Ilike the idea that a baby doesn't amount to anything! Why, one baby isjust a house and a front yard full by itself; one baby can furnish morebusiness than you and your whole interior department can attend to; heis enterprising, irrepressible, brimful of lawless activities. Do whatyou please you can't make him stay on the reservation. Sufficient untothe day is one baby. As long as you are in your right mind don't everpray for twins. Twins amount to a permanent riot; and there ain't anyreal difference between triplets and insurrections. 

Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in the land thereare some which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred things, ifwe could know which ones they are. For in one of these cradles theunconscious Farragut of the future is at this moment teething; inanother the future great historian is lying, and doubtless he willcontinue to lie until his earthly mission is ended. And in still onemore cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustriouscommander-in-chief of the American armies is so little burdened withhis approaching grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving hiswhole strategic mind at this moment, to trying to find out some way toget his own big toe into his mouth, an achievement to which (meaning nodisrespect) the illustrious guest of this evening also turned hisattention some fifty-six years ago! And if the child is but theprophecy of the man, there are mighty few will doubt that he succeeded. 

THE OCCASIONAL POEM

CHARLES DICKENS

Read by Mr. Watson in New York, at the celebration of the DickensCentenary, 1912. Reprinted from the public press. 

BY WILLIAM WATSON

When Nature first designedIn her all-procreant mindThe man whom here tonight we are met to honor--When first the idea of Dickens flashed upon her--"Where, where" she said, "upon my populous earthShall this prodigious child be brought to birth?Where shall we have his earliest wondering lookInto my magic book?Shall he be born where life runs like a brook, Pleasant and placid as of old it ran, Far from the sound and shock of mighty deeds, Among soft English meads?Or shall he first my pictured volume scanWhere London lifts its hot and fevered browFor cooling night to fan?""Nay, nay, " she said, "I have a happier planFor where at Portsmouth, on the embattled tidesThe ships of war step out with thundering prowAnd shake their stormy sides--In yonder place of arms, whose gaunt sea wallFlings to the clouds the far-heard bugle call--He shall be born amid the drums and guns, He shall be born among my fighting sons, Perhaps the greatest warrior of them all. "

II

So there, where from the forts and battle gearAnd all the proud sea babbles Nelson's name, Into the world this later hero came--He, too, a man that knew all moods but fear--He, too, a fighter. Yet not his the strifeThat leaves dark scars on the fair face of life. He did not fight to rend the world apart;He fought to make it one in mind and heart, Building a broad and noble bridge to spanThe icy chasm that sunders man from man. Wherever wrong had fixed its bastions deep, There did his fierce yet gay assault surpriseSome fortress girt with lucre or with lies;There his light battery stormed some ponderous keep;There charged he up the steep, A knight on whom no palsying torpor fell, Keen to the last to break a lance with Hell. And still undimmed his conquering weapons shine;On his bright sword no spot of rust appears, And still across the yearsHis soul goes forth to battle, and in the faceOf whatso'er is false, or cruel, or base, He hurls his gage and leaps among the spears, Being armed with pity and love and scorn divine, Immortal laughter and immortal tears. 

THE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL

Ye Mariners of EnglandThat guard our native seas!Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!Your glorious standard launch againTo match another foe:And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow;While the battle rages loud and longAnd the stormy winds do blow. 

The spirit of your fathersShall start from every wave, For the deck it is our field of fame, And Ocean was their grave:Where Blake and mighty Nelson fellYour manly heart shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow;While the battle rages loud and longAnd the stormy winds do blow. 

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep;Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oakShe quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow;When the battle rages loud and longAnd the stormy winds do blow. 

The meteor-flag of EnglandShall yet terrific burn;Till danger's troubled night departAnd the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors!Our song and feast shall flowTo the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow;When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. 

CLASS POEM

Read in Sanders Theater at the Harvard Class Day Exercises, 1903. Reprinted with permission. 

BY LANGDON WARNER

Not unto every one of us shall come The bugle call that sounds for famous deeds;Not far lands, but the pleasant paths of home, Not broad seas to traffic, but the meadsOf fruitful midland ways, where daily life Down trellised vistas, heavy in the Fall, Seems but the decent way apart from strife; And love, and work, and laughter there seem all. 

War, and the Orient Sun uprising, The East, the West, and Man's shrill clamorous strife, Travail, disaster, flood, and far emprising, Man may not reach, yet take fast hold on life. Let us now praise men who are not famous, Striving for good name rather than for great;Hear we the quiet voice calling to claim us, Heed it no less than the trumpet-call of fate!

Profit we to-day by the men who've gone before us, Men who dared, and lived, and died, to speed us on our way. Fair is their fame, who make that mighty chorus, And gentle is the heritance that comes to us to-day. 

They pulled with the strength that was in them, But 'twas not for the pewter cup, And not for the fame 'twould win them When the length of the race was up. For the college stood by the river, And they heard, with cheeks that glowed, The voice of the coxswain calling At the end of the course--"Well rowed!"

We have pulled at the sweep and run at the games, We have striven to stand to our boyhood aims, And we know the worth of our fathers' names; Shall we have less care for our own?The praise of men they dared despise, They set the game above the prize, Must we fear to look in our fathers' eyes, Nor reap where they have sown?

Do we lose the zest we've known before?The joy of running?--The kick of the oar When the ash sweeps buckle and bend? Is the goal too far?--Too hard to gain?We know that the candle is not the play, We know the reward is not to-day, And may not come at the end. 

But we hear the voice of each bygone classFrom the river's bank when our own crews pass, And the backs of the men are bowed, With a steady lift and a squandering strength, For the heave that shall drive us a nation's length, Till the coxswain calls--"Well rowed. "

Now all to the tasks that may find us-- To the saddle, the home, or the sea, Still hearing the voices behind us The voices that set us free;Free to be bound by our honor, Free to our birthright of toil, The masters, and slaves, of the nation, The Serfs, and the Lords, of the soil!

Proudly we lift the burdens That humbled the ages past, And pray to the God that gave them We may bear them on to the last;

That our sons and our younger brothers, When our gaps in the front they fill, May know that the class has faltered not, And the line is even still. 

Then out to the wind and weather! Down the course our fathers showed, And finish well together, As the coxswain calls--"Well rowed!"

A TROOP OF THE GUARD

Harvard Class Poem, 1907, Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, publishers, Reprinted with permission. 

BY HERMANN HAGEDORN, JR. 

There's a trampling of hoofs in the busy street, There's a clanking of sabers on floor and stair, There's a sound of restless, hurrying feet, Of voices that whisper, of lips that entreat, -- Will they live, will they die, will they strive, will they dare?--The houses are garlanded, flags flutter gay, For a troop of the Guard rides forth to-day. 

Oh, the troopers will ride and their hearts will leap, When it's shoulder to shoulder and friend to friend--But it's some to the pinnacle, some to the deep, And some in the glow of their strength to sleep, And for all it's a fight to the tale's far end, And it's each to his goal, nor turn nor sway, When the troop of the Guard rides forth to-day. 

The dawn is upon us, the pale light speeds To the zenith with glamour and golden dart. On, up! Boot and saddle! Give spurs to your steeds!There's a city beleaguered that cries for men's deeds, With the pain of the world in its cavernous heart. 

 Ours be the triumph! Humanity calls! Life's not a dream in the clover! On to the walls, on to the walls, On to the walls, and over!

The wine is spent, the tale is spun, The revelry of youth is done. The horses prance, the bridles clink, While maidens fair in bright arrayWith us the last sweet goblet drink, Then bid us, "Mount and away!"Into the dawn, we ride, we ride, Fellow and fellow, side by side;Galloping over the field and hill, Over the marshland, stalwart still, Into the forest's shadowy hush, Where specters walk in sunless day, And in dark pool and branch and bushThe treacherous will-o'-the-wisp lights play. Out of the wood 'neath the risen sun, Weary we gallop, one and one, To a richer hope and a stronger foeAnd a hotter fight in the fields below--Each man his own slave, each his lord, For the golden spurs and the victor's sword!

An anxious generation sends us forthOn the far conquest of the thrones of might. From west to east, from south to north, Earth's children, weary-eyed from too much light, Cry from their dream-forsaken vales of pain, "Give us our gods, give us our gods again!"A lofty and relentless century, Gazing with Argus eyes, Has pierced the very inmost halls of faith;And left no shelter whither man may fleeFrom the cold storms of night and lovelessness and death. 

Old gods have fallen and the new must rise!Out of the dust of doubt and broken creeds, The sons of those who cast men's idols lowMust build up for a hungry people's needsNew gods, new hopes, new strength to toil and grow;Knowing that nought that ever lived can die, --No act, no dream but spreads its sails, sublime, Sweeping across the visible seas of timeInto the treasure-haven of eternity. The portals are open, the white road leads Through thicket and garden, o'er stone and sod. On, up! Boot and saddle! Give spurs to your steeds!There's a city beleaguered that cries for men's deeds, For the faith that is strength and the love that is God! On, through the dawning! Humanity calls! Life's not a dream in the clover! On to the walls, on to the walls, On to the walls, and over!

THE BOYS

At a class reunion. By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers of this author's works. 

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?If there has, take him out, without making a noise. Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite!Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night!

We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says we are more?He's tipsy, young jackanapes!--show him the door!'Gray temples at twenty?'--Yes! _white_ if we please;Where the snowflakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze!

Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!Look close, --you will see not a sign of a flake!We want some new garlands for those we have shed, --And these are white roses in place of the red. 

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told, Of talking (in public) as if we were old:--That boy we call 'Doctor, ' and this we call 'Judge';It's a neat little fiction, --of course it's all fudge. 

That fellow's the 'Speaker, '--the one on the right:'Mr. Mayor, ' my young one, how are you to-night?That's our 'Member of Congress, ' we say when we chaff;There's the 'Reverend' What's his name?--don't make me laugh. 

That boy with the grave mathematical lookMade believe he had written a wonderful book, And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was _true_!So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too!

There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain;When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, We called him 'The Justice, ' but now he's 'The Squire. '

And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith, --Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;But he shouted a song for the brave and the free, --Just read on his medal, 'My country, ' 'of thee!'

You hear that boy laughing?--You think he's all fun;But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!

Yes, we're boys, --always playing with tongue or with pen, --And I sometimes have asked, --Shall we ever be men?Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay, Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, Dear Father, take care of thy children, the BOYS!

THE ANECDOTE

THE MOB CONQUERED

From "The Orations and Addresses of George William Curtis, " Vol. 1Copyright 1893, by Harper and Brothers. Reprinted with permission. 

BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

It is especially necessary for us to perceive the vital relation ofindividual courage and character to the common welfare, because ours isa government of public opinion, and public opinion is but the aggregateof individual thought. We have the awful responsibility as a communityof doing what we choose; and it is of the last importance that wechoose to do what is wise and right. In the early days of theantislavery agitation a meeting was called at Faneuil Hall, in Boston, which a good-natured mob of sailors was hired to suppress. They tookpossession of the floor and danced breakdowns and shouted choruses andrefused to hear any of the orators upon the platform. The most eloquentpleaded with them in vain. They were urged by the memories of theCradle of Liberty, for the honor of Massachusetts, for their own honoras Boston boys, to respect liberty of speech. But they still laughedand sang and danced, and were proof against every appeal. At last a mansuddenly arose from among themselves, and began to speak. Struck by histone and quaint appearance, and with the thought that he might be oneof themselves, the mob became suddenly still, "Well, fellow-citizens, "he said, "I wouldn't be quiet if I didn't want to. " The words weregreeted with a roar of delight from the mob, which supposed it hadfound its champion, and the applause was unceasing for five minutes, during which the strange orator tranquilly awaited his chance tocontinue. The wish to hear more hushed the tumult, and when the hallwas still he resumed: "No, I certainly wouldn't stop if I hadn't a mindto; but then, if I were you, I _would_ have a mind to!" The oddityof the remark and the earnestness of the tone, held the crowd silent, and the speaker continued, "not because this is Faneuil Hall, nor forthe honor of Massachusetts, nor because you are Boston boys, butbecause you are men, and because honorable and generous men always lovefair play. " The mob was conquered. Free speech and fair play weresecured. Public opinion can do what it has a mind to in this country. If it be debased and demoralized, it is the most odious of tyrants. Itis Nero and Caligula multiplied by millions. Can there then be a morestringent public duty for every man--and the greater the intelligencethe greater the duty--than to take care, by all the influence he cancommand, that the country, the majority, public opinion, shall have amind to do only what is just and pure and humane?

AN EXAMPLE OF FAITH

From "The New South. " Reprinted with permission

BY HENRY W. GRADY

Permitted, through your kindness, to catch my second wind, let me saythat I appreciate the significance of being the first Southerner tospeak at this board, which bears the substance, if it surpasses thesemblance, of original New England hospitality--and honors thesentiment that in turn honors you, but in which my personality is lost, and the compliment to my people made plain. 

I bespeak the utmost stretch of your courtesy to-night. I am nottroubled about those from whom I come. You remember the man whose wifesent him to a neighbor with a pitcher of milk, and who, tripping on thetop step, fell with such casual interruptions as the landings affordedinto the basement, and, while picking himself up, had the pleasure ofhearing his wife call out: "John, did you break the pitcher?"

"No, I didn't, " said John, "but I'll be dinged if I don't. "

So, while those who call me from behind may inspire me with energy, ifnot with courage, I ask an indulgent hearing from you. I beg that youwill bring your full faith in American fairness and frankness tojudgment upon what I shall say. There was an old preacher once who toldsome boys of the Bible lesson he was going to read in the morning. Theboys, finding the place, glued together the connecting pages. The nextmorning he read on the bottom of one page, "When Noah was one hundredand twenty years old he took unto himself a wife, who was--" thenturning the page--"140 cubits long, 40 cubits wide, built of gopherwood--and covered with pitch inside and out. " He was naturally puzzledat this. He read it again, verified it, and then said, "My friends, this is the first time I ever met this in the Bible, but I accept thisas an evidence of the assertion that we are fearfully and wonderfullymade. " If I could get you to hold such faith to-night I could proceedcheerfully to the task I otherwise approach with a sense ofconsecration. 

THE RAIL-SPLITTER

From "The Lincoln Story Book, " with the permission of G. W. Dillinghamand Co. , New York, publishers. 

BY H. L. WILLIAMS

The Illinois Republican State Convention of 1860 met at Decatur, in awigwam built for the purpose, a type of that noted in the LincolnAnnals as at Chicago. A special welcome was given to Abraham Lincoln asa "distinguished citizen of Illinois, and one she will ever bedelighted to honor. " The session was suddenly interrupted by thechairman saying: "There is an old Democrat outside who has something topresent to the convention. "

The present was two old fence rails, carried on the shoulder of anelderly man, recognized by Lincoln as his cousin John Hanks, and by theSangamon folks as an old settler in the Bottoms. The rails wereexplained by a banner reading:

"Two rails from a lot made by Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks, in theSangamon Bottom, in the year 1830. "

Thunderous cheers for "the rail-splitter" resounded, for this slur onthe statesman had recoiled on aspersers and was used as a title ofhonor. The call for confirmation of the assertion led Lincoln to rise, and blushing--so recorded--said:

"Gentlemen, --I suppose you want to know something about those things. Well, the truth is, John and I did make rails in the Sangamon Bottom. "He eyed the wood with the knowingness of an authority on "stumpage, "and added: "I don't know whether we made those rails or not; the factis, I don't think they are a credit to the makers!" It was John Hanks'turn to blush. "But I do know this: I made rails then, and, I think, Icould make better ones now!"

Whereupon, by acclamation, Abraham Lincoln was declared to be "firstchoice of the Republican party in Illinois for the Presidency. "

Riding a man in on a rail became of different and honorable meaningfrom that out. 

This incident was a prepared theatrical effect. Governor Oglesbyarranged with Lincoln's stepbrother, John D. Johnston, to provide tworails, and with Lincoln's mother's cousin, Dennis Hanks, for the latterto bring in the rails at the telling juncture. Lincoln's guarded mannerabout identifying the rails, and sly slap at his ability to make betterones, show that he was in the scheme, though recognizing that the dodgewas of value politically. 

O'CONNELL'S WIT

From a lecture on Daniel O'Connell in "Speeches and Lectures, " with thepermission of Lothrop, Lee and Shepard, Boston, publishers. 

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS

We used to say of Webster, "This is a great effort"; of Everett, "It isa beautiful effort"; but you never used the word "effort" in speakingof O'Connell. It provoked you that he would not make an effort. I heardhim perhaps a score of times, and I do not think more than three timeshe ever lifted himself to the full sweep of his power. 

And this wonderful power, it was not a thunderstorm: he flanked youwith his wit, he surprised you out of yourself; you were conqueredbefore you knew it. 

He was once summoned to court out of the hunting field, when a youngfriend of his of humble birth was on trial for his life. The evidencegathered around a hat found next the body of the murdered man, whichwas recognized as the hat of the prisoner. The lawyers tried to breakdown the evidence, confuse the testimony, and get some relief from thedirectness of the circumstances, but in vain, until at last they calledfor O'Connell. He came in, flung his riding-whip and hat on the table, was told the circumstances, and, taking up the hat, said to thewitness, "Whose hat is this?" "Well, Mr. O'Connell, that is Mike'shat. " "How do you know it?" "I will swear to it, sir. " "And did youreally find it by the body of the murdered man?" "I did that, sir. ""But you're not ready to swear to that?" "I am, indeed, Mr. O'Connell. ""Pat, do you know what hangs on your word? A human soul. And with thatdread burden, are you ready to tell this jury that the hat, to yourcertain knowledge, belongs to the prisoner?" "Y-yes, Mr. O'Connell;yes, I am. "

O'Connell takes the hat to the nearest window, and peers into it--"J-a-m-e-s, James. Now, Pat, did you see that name in the hat?" "I did, Mr. O'Connell. " "You knew it was there?" "Yes, sir; I read it after Ipicked it up. "----"No name in the hat, your Honor. "

So again in the House of Commons. When he took his seat in the House in1830, the London _Times_ visited him with its constant indignation, reported his speeches awry, turned them inside out, and made nonsenseof them; treated him as the New York _Herald_ use to treat usAbolitionists twenty years ago. So one morning he rose and said, "Mr. Speaker, you know I have never opened my lips in this House, and I expended twenty years of hard work in getting the right to enterit, --I have never lifted my voice in this House, but in behalf of thesaddest people the sun shines on. Is it fair play, Mr. Speaker, is itwhat you call 'English fair play' that the press of this city will notlet my voice be heard?" The next day the _Times_ sent him wordthat, as he found fault with their manner of reporting him, they neverwould report him at all, they never would print his name in theirparliamentary columns. So the next day when prayers were endedO'Connell rose. Those reporters of the _Times_ who were in thegallery rose also, ostentatiously put away their pencils, folded theirarms, and made all the show they could, to let everybody know how itwas. Well, you know nobody has a right to be in the gallery during thesession, and if any member notices them, the mere notice clears thegallery; only the reporters can stay after that notice. O'Connell rose. One of the members said, "Before the member from Clare opens hisspeech, let me call his attention to the gallery and the instance ofthat 'passive resistance' which he is about to preach. " "Thank you, "said O'Connell. "Mr. Speaker, I observe the strangers in the gallery. "Of course they left; of course the next day, in the columns of theLondon _Times_, there were no parliamentary debates. And for thefirst time, except in Richard Cobden's case, the London _Times_cried for quarter, and said to O'Connell, "If you give up the quarrel, we will. "

A RELIABLE TEAM

From "Hunting the Grizzly, " with the permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London, Publishers. 

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

In the cow country there is nothing more refreshing than the light-hearted belief entertained by the average man to the effect that anyanimal which by main force has been saddled and ridden, or harnessedand driven a couple of times, is a "broke horse. " My present foreman isfirmly wedded to this idea, as well as to its complement, the beliefthat any animal with hoofs, before any vehicle with wheels, can bedriven across any country. One summer on reaching the ranch I wasentertained with the usual accounts of the adventures and misadventureswhich had befallen my own men and my neighbors since I had been outlast. In the course of the conversation my foreman remarked: "We had agreat time out here about six weeks ago. There was a professor from AnnArbor came out with his wife to see the Bad Lands, and they asked if wecould rig them up a team, and we said we guessed we could, and Foley'sboy and I did; but it ran away with him and broke his leg! He was herefor a month. I guess he didn't mind it, though. " Of this I was lesscertain, forlorn little Medora being a "busted" cow town, concerningwhich I once heard another of my men remark, in reply to an inquisitivecommercial traveler: "How many people lives here? Eleven--counting thechickens--when they're all in town!"

My foreman continued: "By George, there was something that professorsaid afterward that made me feel hot. I sent word up to him by Foley'sboy that seein' as how it had come out, we wouldn't charge him nothin'for the rig; and that professor answered that he was glad we wereshowing him some sign of consideration, for he'd begun to believe he'dfallen into a den of sharks, and that we gave him a runaway teamapurpose. That made me hot, calling that a runaway team. Why, there wasone of them horses never _could_ have run away before; it hadn'tnever been druv but twice! and the other horse maybe had run away a fewtimes, but there was lots of times he _hadn't_ run away. I esteemedthat team full as liable not to run away as it was to run away, "concluded my foreman, evidently deeming this as good a warrantyof gentleness in a horse as the most exacting could possibly require. 

MEG'S MARRIAGE

From a lecture entitled "Clear Grit, " published in "Modern Eloquence, "Vol. IV, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago. 

BY ROBERT COLLYER

In what we call the good old times--say, three hundred years ago--afamily lived on the border between England and Scotland, with onedaughter of a marvelous homeliness. Her name was Meg. She was a capitalgirl, as homely girls generally are. She knew she had no beauty, so shemade sure of quality and faculty. But the Scotch say that "while beautymay not make the best kail, it looks best by the side of the kail-pot. "So Meg had no offer of a husband, and was likely to die in what we call"single blessedness. " Everybody on the border in those days used tosteal, and their best "holt, " as we say, was cattle. If they wantedmeat and had no money, they would go out and steal as many beef cattleas they could lay their hands on, from somebody on the other side ofthe border. Well, they generally had no money, and they were alwayswanting beef, and they could always be hung for stealing by the manthey stole from if he could catch them, and so they had what anIrishman would call a fine time entirely. One day a young chief, wanting some beef as usual, went out with part of his clan, came upon asplendid herd on the lands of Meg's father, and went to work to drivethem across to his own. But the old fellow was on the lookout, musteredhis clan, bore down on the marauders, beat them, took the young chiefprisoner, and then went home to his peel very much delighted. Meg'smother, of course, wanted to know all about it, and then she said, "Noo, laird, what are you gaun to do with the prisoner?" "I am gaun tohang him, " the old man thundered, "just as soon as I have had mydinner. " "But I think ye're noo wise to do that, " she said. "He has gota braw place, ye ken, over the border, and he is a braw fellow. NooI'll tell ye what I would do. I would give him his chance to be hung ormarry oor Meg. " It struck the old man as a good idea, and so he wentpresently down into the dungeon, told the young fellow to get ready tobe hung in thirty minutes, but then got round to the alternative, andoffered to spare his life if he would marry Meg, and give him the beefinto the bargain. He had heard something about Meg's wonderful want ofbeauty, and so, with a fine Scotch prudence, he said, "Ye will let mesee her, laird, before I mak' up my mind, because maybe I would ratherbe hung. " "Aye, mon, that's fair, " the old chief answered, and went into bid the mother get Meg ready for the interview. The mother did herbest, you may be sure, to make Meg look winsome, but when the poorfellow saw his unintentional intended he turned round to the chief andsaid, "Laird, if ye have nae objection, I think I would rather behung. " "And sae ye shall, me lad, and welcome, " the old chief replied, in a rage. So they led him out, got the rope around his neck; and thenthe young man changed his mind, and shouted, "Laird, I'll tak' her. " Sohe was marched back into the castle, married before he had time tochange his mind, if that was possible, and the tradition is that therenever was a happier pair in Scotland, and never a better wife in theworld than Meg. But I have told the story because it touches thispoint, of the way they hold their own over there when there are greatfamilies of children. They tell me that the family flourishes famouslystill; no sign of dying out or being lost about it. Meg's main featurewas a very large mouth, and now in the direct line in almost everygeneration the neighbors and friends are delighted, as they say, to getMeg back. "Here's Meg again, " they cry when a child is born with thatwonderful mouth. Sir Walter Scott was one of the descendants of thefamily. He had Meg's mouth, in a measure, and was very proud of it whenhe would tell the story. 

OUTDOING MRS. PARTINGTON

From a speech published in Brewer's "The World's Best Orations, " Vol. IX, Ferd. P. Kaiser, St. Louis, Chicago, publisher. 

BY SIDNEY SMITH I have spoken so often on this subject, that I am sureboth you and the gentlemen here present will be obliged to me forsaying but little, and that favor I am as willing to confer, as you canbe to receive it. I feel most deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting the two houses of Parliament in collision with eachother, it will impede the public business and diminish the publicprosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to seeso many dignitaries of the Church arrayed against the wishes andhappiness of the people. I feel it more than all, because I believe itwill sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the aristocracy and thegreat mass of the people. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and forthe best of all possible reasons--because I have not the slightest ideathat it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of thewinter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual tax billswill pass, and greater certainty than this no man can have, forFranklin tells us there are but two things certain in this world--deathand taxes. As for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing erelong a reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notionthat ever entered into human imagination. I do not mean to bedisrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the progress ofreform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and ofthe conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In thewinter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that town, the tiderose to an incredible height, the waves rushed in upon the houses, andeverything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of thissublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the top of her house with mop and pattens, trundling hermop, squeezing out the water, and vigorously pushing away the AtlanticOcean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but Ineed not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beatMrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but sheshould not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease--bequiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington. 

CIRCUMSTANCE NOT A CAUSE

From the same speech as the foregoing

BY SIDNEY SMITH

An honorable member of the honorable house, much connected with thistown, and once its representative, seems to be amazingly surprised, andequally dissatisfied, at this combination of king, ministers, nobles, and people, against his opinion, --like the gentleman who came home fromserving on a jury very much disconcerted, and complaining he had metwith eleven of the most obstinate people he had ever seen in his life, whom he found it absolutely impossible by the strongest arguments tobring over to his way of thinking. 

They tell you, gentlemen, that you have grown rich and powerful withthese rotten boroughs, and that it would be madness to part with them, or to alter a constitution which had produced such happy effects. Therehappens, gentlemen, to live near my parsonage a laboring man of verysuperior character and understanding to his fellow laborers, and whohas made such good use of that superiority that he has saved what is(for his station in life) a very considerable sum of money, and if hisexistence is extended to the common period he will die rich. Ithappens, however, that he is (and long has been) troubled with violentstomachic pains, for which he has hitherto obtained no relief, andwhich really are the bane and torment of his life. Now, if my excellentlaborer were to send for a physician and to consult him respecting thismalady, would it not be very singular language if our doctor were tosay to him: "My good friend, you surely will not be so rash as toattempt to get rid of these pains in your stomach. Have you not grownrich with these pains in your stomach? have you not risen under themfrom poverty to prosperity? has not your situation since you were firstattacked been improving every year? You surely will not be so foolishand so indiscreet as to part with the pains in your stomach?" Why, whatwould be the answer of the rustic to this nonsensical monition?"Monster of rhubarb! (he would say) I am not rich in consequence of thepains in my stomach, but in spite of the pains in my stomach; and Ishould have been ten times richer, and fifty times happier, if I hadnever had any pains in my stomach at all. " Gentlemen, these rottenboroughs are your pains in the stomach--and you would have been a muchricher and greater people if you had never had them at all. Your wealthand your power have been owing not to the debased and corrupted partsof the House of Commons, but to the many independent and honorablemembers whom it has always contained within its walls. If there hadbeen a few more of these very valuable members for close boroughs weshould, I verily believe, have been by this time about as free asDenmark, Sweden, or the Germanized States of Italy. 

This is the greatest measure which has ever been before Parliament inmy time, and the most pregnant with good or evil to the country; andthough I seldom meddle with political meetings, I could not reconcileit to my conscience to be absent from this. 

Every year for this half century, the question of reform has beenpressing upon us, till it has swelled up at last into this great andawful combination; so that almost every city and every borough inEngland are at this moment assembled for the same purpose, and aredoing the same thing we are doing. 

MORE TERRIBLE THAN THE LIONS

From "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. X, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY A. A. MCCORMICK

I do not want to be in the position of a man I once heard of who was alion tamer. He was a very brave man. There was no lion, no matter howbig, or strong, or vicious, that had not succumbed to this man'sfearlessness. This man had a wife, and she did not like him to stay outlate at night, and big as he was, and as brave, he had never dared todisrespect his wife's wishes, until one evening, meeting some oldfriends, he fell to talking over old times with them, their earlyadventures and experiences. Finally, looking at his watch, to hisamazement he discovered it was midnight. What to do he knew not. Hedidn't dare to go home. If he went to a hotel, his wife might discoverhim before he discovered her. Finally, in desperation, he sped to themenagerie, hurriedly passed through and went to the cage of lions. Entering this he closed and locked the door, and gave a sigh of relief. He quieted the dangerous brutes, and lay down with his head resting onthe mane of the largest and most dangerous of them all. His wifewaited. Her anger increased as the night wore on. At the first sign ofdawn she went in search of her recreant lord and master. Not findinghim in any of the haunts that he generally frequented, she went to themenagerie. She also passed through and went to the cage of the lions. Peering in she saw her husband, the fearless lion tamer, crouching atthe back of the cage. A look of chagrin came over her face, closelyfollowed by one of scorn and fine contempt, as she shook her finger andhissed, "You coward!"

IRVING, THE ACTOR

From "In Lighter Vein, " with the permission of Paul Elder and Company, San Francisco, publishers. 

BY JOHN DE MORGAN

Henry Irving, the actor, was always fond of playing practical jokes. Clement Scott tells of one played by Irving and Harry Montague upon anumber of their associates. Irving and Montague, hitherto the best offriends, began to quarrel on their way to a picnic, and their friendsfeared some tragic consequences. After luncheon both of the mendisappeared. Business Manager Smale's face turned pale. He felt thathis worst fears had been realized. With one cry, "They're gone! What onearth has become of them?" he made a dash down the Dargle, over therocks and bowlders, with the remainder of the picnickers at his heels. At the bottom of a "dreadful hollow behind the little wood, " a fearfulsight presented itself to the astonished friends. There, on a stone, sat Henry Irving, in his shirtsleeves, his long hair matted over hiseyes, his thin hands and white face all smeared with blood, anddangling an open clasp-knife. He was muttering to himself, in a savagetone: "I've done it, I've done it! I said I would, I said I would!" TomSmale, in an agony of fear, rushed up to Irving. "For Heaven's sake, man, " he screamed, "tell us where he is!" Irving, scarcely moving amuscle, pointed to a heap of dead leaves, and, in that sepulchral toneof his, cried: "He's there! I've done for him! I've murdered him!"Smale literally bounded to the heap, almost paralyzed with fear, andbegan pulling the leaves away. Presently he found Montague lying facedownward and nearly convulsed with laughter. Never was better actingseen on any stage. 

WENDELL PHILLIPS'S TACT

From "Memories of the Lyceum, " in "Modern Eloquence, " Vol. VI, Geo. L. Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers. 

BY JAMES BURTON POND

Wendell Phillips was the most polished and graceful orator our countryever produced. He spoke as quietly as if he were talking in his ownparlor and almost entirely without gestures, yet he had as great apower over all kinds of audiences as any American of whom we have anyrecord. Often called before howling mobs, who had come to the lecture-room to prevent him from being heard, and who would shout and sing todrown his voice, he never failed to subdue them in a short time. Oneillustration of his power and tact occurred in Boston. The majority ofthe audience were hostile. They yelled and sang and completely drownedhis voice. The reporters were seated in a row just under the platform, in the place where the orchestra plays in an ordinary theater. Phillipsmade no attempt to address the noisy crowd, but bent over and seemed tobe speaking in a low tone to the reporters. By and by the curiosity ofthe audience was excited; they ceased to clamor and tried to hear whathe was saying to the reporters. Phillips looked at them and saidquietly:--

"Go on, gentlemen, go on. I do not need your ears. Through thesepencils I speak to thirty millions of people. "

Not a voice was raised again. The mob had found its master and stayedwhipped until he sat down. 

Eloquent as he was as a lecturer, he was far more effective as adebater. Debate was for him the flint and steel which brought out allhis fire. His memory was something wonderful, He would listen to anelaborate speech for hours, and, without a single note of what had beensaid, in writing, reply to every part of it as fully and completely asif the speech were written out before him. Those who heard him only onthe platform, and when not confronted by an opponent, have a verylimited comprehension of his wonderful resources as a speaker. He neverhesitated for a word or failed to employ the word best fitted toexpress his thought on the point under discussion. 

BAKED BEANS AND CULTURE

From "Writings in Prose and Verse, by Eugene Field, " with thepermission of Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, publishers. 

BY EUGENE FIELD

The members of the Boston Commercial Club are charming gentlemen. Theyare now the guests of the Chicago Commercial Club, and are being shownevery attention that our market affords. 

Last night five or six of these Boston merchants sat around the officeof the hotel and discussed matters and things. Pretty soon they got totalking about beans; this was the subject which they dwelt on withevident pleasure. 

"Waal, sir, " said Ephraim Taft, a wholesale dealer in maple sugar andflavored lozenges, "you kin talk 'bout your new-fashioned dishes an'high-falutin' vittles; but when you come right down to it, there ain'tno better eatin' than a dish o' baked pork 'n' beans. "

"That's so, b'gosh!" chorused the others. 

"The truth o' the matter is, " continued Mr. Taft, "that beans is goodfor everybody--'t don't make no difference whether he's well or sick. Why, I've known a thousand folks--waal, mebbe not quite a thousand;but--waal, now, jest to show, take the case of Bill Holbrook, --youremember Bill, don't ye?"

"Bill Holbrook?" said Mr. Ezra Eastman. "Why, of course I do. Used tolive down to Brimfield, next to Moses Howard farm. "

"That's the man, " resumed Mr. Taft. "Waal, Bill fell sick--kinder moped'round, tired-like, for a week or two, an' then tuck to his bed. Hisfolks sent for Dock Smith--ol' Dock Smith that used to carry a pair o'leather saddlebags. Gosh, they don't have no sech doctors nowadays!Waal, the dock he come; an' he looked at Bill's tongue, an' felt uv hispulse, an' said that Bill had typhus fever. "

Ol' Dock Smith was a very careful, conserv'tive man, an' he never saidnothin' unless he knowed he was right. 

"Bill began to git wuss, an' he kep' a-gittin' wuss every day. Onemornin' ol' Dock Smith sez, 'Look a-here, Bill, I guess you're a goner;as I figger it, you can't hol' out till nightfall. '

"Bill's mother insisted on a con-sul-tation bein' held; so ol' DockSmith sent over for young Dock Brainerd. I calc'late that, next_to_ ol' Dock Smith, young Dock Brainerd was the smartest doctorthat ever lived. 

"Waal, pretty soon along come Dock Brainerd; an' he an' Dock Smith wentall over Bill, an' looked at his tongue, an' felt uv his pulse, an'told him it was a gone case, an' that he had got to die. Then they wenton into the spare chamber to hold their con-sul-tation. 

"Waal, Bill he lay there in the front room a-pantin' an' a-gaspin', an'a wond'rin' whether it wuz true. As he wuz thinkin', up comes the girlto git a clean tablecloth out of the clothespress, an' she left thedoor ajar as she come in. Bill he gave a sniff, an' his eyes grew morenatural like; he gathered together all the strength he had, an' heraised himself up on one elbow an' sniffed again. 

"'Sary, ' says he, 'wot's that a-cookin'?'

"'Beans, ' says she; 'beans for dinner. '

"'Sary, ' says the dyin' man, 'I must hev a plate uv them beans!'

"'Sakes alive, Mr. Holbrook!' says she; 'if you wuz to eat any o' thembeans it'd kill ye!'

"'If I've got to die, ' says he, 'I'm goin' to die happy; fetch me aplate uv them beans. '

"Waal, Sary she pikes off to the doctor's. 

"'Look a-here, ' says she; 'Mr. Holbrook smelt the beans cookin' an' hesays he's got to have some. Now, what shall I do about it?'

"'Waal, Doctor, ' says Dock Smith, 'what do you think 'bout it?'

"'He's got to die anyhow, ' says Dock Brainerd, 'an' I don't suppose thebeans 'll make any diff'rence. '

"'That's the way I figger it, ' says Dock Smith; 'in all my practice Inever knew of beans hurtin' anybody. '

"So Sary went down to the kitchen an' brought up a plateful of hotbaked beans. Dock Smith raised Bill up in bed, an' Dock Brainerd put apiller under the small of Bill's back. Then Sary sat down by the bedan' fed them beans into Bill until Bill couldn't hold any more. 

"'How air you feelin' now?' asked Dock Smith. 

"Bill didn't say nuthin; he jest smiled sort uv peaceful-like andclosed his eyes. 

"'The end hez come, 'f said Dock Brainerd sof'ly; 'Bill is dyin'. '

"Then Bill murmured kind o' far-away like; 'I ain't dyin'; I'm dead an'in heaven. '

"Next mornin' Bill got out uv bed an' done a big day's work on thefarm, an' he ain't bed a sick spell since. Them beans cured him!"

SECRETARY CHASE'S CHIN-FLY

From "Speeches and Addresses of Abraham Lincoln, " Current LiteraturePublishing Company, New York, publishers. 

BY F. B. CARPENTER

"Within a month after Mr. Lincoln's first accession to office, " saysthe Hon. Mr. Raymond, "when the South was threatening civil war, andarmies of office seekers were besieging him in the Executive Mansion, he said to a friend that he wished he could get time to attend to theSouthern question; he thought he knew what was wanted, and believed hecould do something towards quieting the rising discontent; but theoffice seekers demanded all his time. 'I am, ' said he, 'like a man sobusy in letting rooms in one end of his house that he can't stop to putout the fire that is burning the other. ' Two or three years later whenthe people had made him a candidate for reflection, the same friendspoke to him of a member of his Cabinet who was a candidate also. Mr. Lincoln said that he did not concern himself much about that. It wasimportant to the country that the department over which his rivalpresided should be administered with vigor and energy, and whateverwould stimulate the Secretary to such action would do good. 'R----, 'said he, 'you were brought up on a farm, were you not? Then you knowwhat a _chin-fly_ is. My brother and I, ' he added, 'were once plowingcorn on a Kentucky farm, I driving the horse, and he holding theplow. The horse was lazy; but on one occasion rushed across thefield so that I, with my long legs, could scarcely keep pace with him. On reaching the end of the furrow, I found an enormous _chin-fly_fastened upon him, and knocked him off. My brother asked me what I didthat for. I told him I didn't want the old horse bitten in that way. "Why, " said my brother, "_that's all that made him go!_" Now, ' saidMr. Lincoln, 'if Mr. ---- has a presidential _chin-fly_ biting him, I'm not going to knock him off if it will only make his department_go_. '"

REVIEW EXERCISES

EXERCISES

There exercises should be practiced in only a moderatelystrong voice, at times perhaps in a very soft voice, andalways with a good degree of ease and naturalness. Theyhad better be memorized, and as the technique becomesmore sure, less thought may be given to that and moreto the true expression of the spirit of each passage--orlet the spirit from the first, if it will, help the technique. 

TONE

For rounding and expanding the voice. To be given in an evensustained tone, with rather open throat and easy low breathing. Suspend the speech where pauses are marked, for a momentaryrecovery of breath. Keep the breath easily firm. Don't drive thebreath through the tone. 

1

Roll on, | thou deep and dark blue Ocean, | roll!Ten thousand fleets | sweep over thee | in vain;Man marks the earth | with ruin--his control |Stops | with the shore. 

2

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

3

O Rome! | my country! | city of the soul!The orphans of the heart | must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! | and controlIn their shut breasts | their petty misery. 

4

Ring joyous chords!-- | ring out again!A swifter still | and a wilder strain!And bring fresh wreaths!-- | we will banish allSave the free in heart | from our banquet hall. 

5

O joy to the people | and joy to the throne, Come to us, | love us | and make us your own:For Saxon | or Dane | or Norman | we, Teuton or Celt, | or what ever we be, We are all of us Danes | in our welcome of thee, Alexandra!

6

Liberty! | Freedom! | Tyranny is dead!--Run hence, | proclaim, | cry it about the streets. Some to the common pulpits, | and cry out, "Liberty, | freedom, | and enfranchisement!"

INFLECTION

Give these with a rather vigorous colloquial effect, with clear-cutform, with point and spirit. 

1

 Armed, say you? Armed, my lord. From top to toe? My lord, from head to foot. Then saw you not His face? Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. What, looked he frowningly? A countenance more In sorrow than in anger. Pale or red? Nay, very pale. And fixed his eyes upon you? Most constantly. 

2

But, sir, the Coalition! The Coalition! Aye, "themurdered Coalition!" The gentleman asks if I wereled or frighted into this debate by the specter of theCoalition. "Was it the ghost of the murdered Coalition, "he exclaims, "which haunted the member from Massachusetts;and which, like the ghost of Banquo, would neverdown?" "The murdered Coalition. "

3

Should he have asked Aguinaldo for an armistice? Ifso, upon what basis should he have requested it? Whatshould he say to him? "Please stop this fighting?""What for?" Aguinaldo would say; "do you proposeto retire?" "No. " "Do you propose to grant us independence?""No, not now. " "Well, why then, an armistice?"

4

Alas, poor Yorick!--I knew him, Horatio; a fellow ofinfinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me onhis back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in myimagination it is! my gorge rises at it. --Where be yourgibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? Notone now, to mock your own grinning? quite chop-fallen?Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let herpaint an inch thick, to this favor she must come; make herlaugh at that. 

ENUNCIATION

Keep first of all a good form to the vowels. Make consonantsdefinitely by sufficient action of jaw, tongue, and lips. Keep thethroat easy; avoid stiffening and strain. A particularly light, soft, pure tone, with fine articulation, may generally be best for practice. 

In these first passages, carry the tone well in the head, so as togive a pure, soft, clear sound to the _m_'s, _n_'s, _ng_'s, and _l_'s. If need be, these letters may be marked. 

1

One cry of wonder, Shrill as the loon's call, Rang through the forest, Startling the silence, Startling the mournersChanting the death-song. 

2

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye. 

Four times fifty living men, (And I heard nor sigh nor groan, )With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by one. 

3

 These abominable principles, and this more abominableavowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 

4

Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty's in every blow!Forward! let us do or die!

5

I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat;For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the skyLay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet. 

REVIEW EXERCISES

Give clearly the _k_ and the _g_ forms, making a slight percussion inthe back of the mouth. Finish clearly all main words. 

1

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could nor laugh nor wail;Through utter drought all dumb we stood!I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried, A sail! a sail!

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call:Gramercy! they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in, As they were drinking all. 

2

Where dwellest thou?Under the canopy. Under the canopy!Ay!Where's that?I' the city of kites and crows. I' the city of kites and crows!--Then thou dwellest with daws, too?No: I serve not thy master. 

3

Strike | till the last armed foe | expires!Strike | for your altars and your fires!Strike | for the green graves of your sires!God | and your native land!

For flexibility of the lips, form well the _o_'s and _w_'s. 

1

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude. 

2

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, wonderful!and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping!

3

Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink. 

4

O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath beenAlone on a wide, wide sea:So lonely 'twas, that God himselfScarce seemed there to be. 

Have care for _t_'s, _d_'s, _s_'s, the _th_ and the _st_'s. 

1

Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean. 

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be;And we did speak only to breakThe silence of the sea!

2

What loud uproar bursts from that door!The wedding-guests are there:But in the garden-bower the brideAnd bride-maids singing are:And hark the little vesper bell, Which biddeth me to prayer!

3

Farewell, farewell! but this I tellTo thee, thou Wedding-Guest!He prayeth well, who loveth wellBoth man and bird and beast. 

He prayeth best, who loveth bestAll things both great and small;For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. 

Attend especially to _b_'s and in passage 2 to _p_'s. Give a very soft, slightly echoing continuation to the _ing_ in "dying. "

1

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

2

Hop, and Mop, and Drop so clear, Pip, and Trip, and Skip that wereTo Mab their sovereign dear, Her special maids of honor;Fib, and Tib, and Pinck, and Pin, Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win, The train that wait upon her. 

EMPHASIS

Determine the exact sense and express it pointedly. The primary orcentral emphasis takes an absolute fall from a pitch above the generallevel; the secondary emphasis takes a circumflex inflection--a fall anda slight rise. Primary, Hebrew Letter Yod; secondary GujaratiVowel Sign li. In the question, the main part of the inflection isusually rising instead of falling. The effect of suspense or of forwardlook requires the slightly upward final turn to the inflection. Notethis in passages 4, 5, and 6. 

1

In 1825 the gentleman told the world that the public lands "ought _not_to be treated as a _treasure_. " He now tells us that "they _must_ betreated as _so much treasure_. " What the deliberate opinion of thegentleman on this subject may be, belongs not to me to determine. 

2

Compare the two. This I offer to give you is _plain_ and _simple;_ theother full of perplexed and intricate _mazes_. This is mild; that_harsh_. This is found by experience _effectual for its purposes_; theother is a _new project_. This is _universal_; the other calculated for_certain colonies only. _ This is _immediate in its conciliatoryoperation_; the other _remote, contingent_, full of _hazard_. 

3

As Cęsar _loved me_, I _weep_ for him; as he was _fortunate_, I_rejoice_ at it; as he was _valiant_, I _honor_ him; but as he was_ambitious_, I _slew_ him. There is _tears_ for his _love_; _joy_ forhis _fortune_; _honor_ for his _valor_; and _death_ for his _ambition_. 

4

One moment he stood erect, strong, confident in the years stretchingpeacefully out before him; the next he lay wounded, bleeding, _helpless_, doomed to weary weeks of torture, to silence and thegrave. 

5

For no cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness and wickedness, by thered hand of Murder he was thrust from the full tide of this world'sinterest, from its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into thevisible presence of death; and he _did not quail_. 

6

There was no flinching as he charged. He had just turned to give acheer when the fatal ball struck him. There was a convulsion of theupward hand--his eyes, pleading and loyal, turned their last glance tothe flag--his lips parted--he fell _dead_, and at nightfall laywith his face to the stars. Home they brought him, fairer than Adonisover whom the goddess of beauty wept. 

7

But the gentleman inquires why _he_ was made the object of such areply. Why was _he_ singled out? If an attack has been made on the_East, he_, he assures us, did not _begin_ it; it was made bythe gentleman from _Missouri_. Sir, I answered the gentleman'sspeech because I happened to _hear_ it; and because, also, I choseto give an answer to that speech which, if _unanswered_, I thoughtmost likely to produce _injurious impressions_. 

MELODY

Give musical tone and a fitting modulation, or tune, avoiding the so-called singsong. Note the occasional closing cadence. Observe therhythmic movement, with beat and pause. 

1

You think me a fanatic to-night, for you read history not with youreyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when Truth getsa hearing, the Muse of History will put Phocian for the Greek, andBrutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, chooseWashington as the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, and John Brown the ripe fruit of our noonday, then, dipping her pen inthe sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name ofthe soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint L'Ouverture. 

2

Have you read in the Talmud of old, In the Legends the Rabbins have toldOf the limitless realms of the air, Have you read it, --the marvelous storyOf Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?

3

You remember King Charles' Twelve Good Rules, the eleventh of whichwas, "Make no long meals. " Now King Charles lost his head, and you willhave leave to make a long meal. But when, after your long meal, you gohome in the wee small hours, what do you expect to find? You will findmy toast--"Woman, a beautiful rod!" Now my advice is, "Kiss the rod!"

4

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, Dear Father, take care of Thy children, the Boys!

FEELING

Have great care not to put any strain upon the throat. Breathe low. Bemoderate in force. 

1

O mighty Cęsar! dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. 

2

Yes, I attack Louis Napoleon; I attack him openly, before all theworld. I attack him before God and man. I attack him boldly andrecklessly for love of the people and for love of France. 

3

I am asked what I have to say why sentence of death should not bepronounced on me according to law. I am charged with being an emissaryof France! and for what end? No; I am no emissary. 

4

I see a race without disease of flesh or brain, --shapely and fair, --themarried harmony of form and function, --and as I look, life lengthens, joy deepens, love canopies the earth. 

TONE COLOR

Use the imagination to see and hear. Suit the voice to the sound, form or movement of your image, or to the mood of mind indicated. Read with melody and pause. Take plenty of time. 

1

There's a lurid light | in the clouds to-night, In the wind | there's a desolate moan, And the rage of the furious sea | is white, Where it breaks | on the crags of stone. 

2

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:At one stride | comes the dark;With far-heard whisper, | o'er the sea, Off shot | the specter-bark. 

3

Is this a time to be gloomy and sad;When our mother Nature | laughs around;When even the deep blue heavens | look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

4

The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That dandelions | are blossoming near, That maize | has sprouted, that streams | are flowing, That the river is bluer | than the sky, That the robin | is plastering his nest | hard by;And if the breeze kept the good news back, For other couriers | we should not lack; We could guess it all | by yon heifer's | lowing, --And hark! how clear | bold chanticleer, Warmed | by the new wine | of the year, Tells all | by his lusty | crowing!

VARIETY--IN PITCH, TIME, FORCE, COLOR, AND MODULATION

1

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky;Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

2

Good work is the most honorable and lasting thing in theworld. 

3

O Thou that rollest above, round as the shield of myfathers, whence are thy beams, O Sun, thy everlasting light!

4

I am thy father's spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of natureAre burnt and purg'd away. 

5

"Well, gentlemen, I am a Whig. If you break up the Whig party, where am_I_ to go?" And, says Lowell, we all held our breath, thinkingwhere he _could_ go. But, says Lowell, if he had been five feetthree, we should have said, Who _cares_ where you go?

GESTURE

Have the action simple and unstudied, expressing the dominant purposerather than illustrating mere words or phrases. Avoid stiltedness andelaboration. Try to judge where and how the gesture would be made. 

I

Nor do not _saw the air_ too much with your _hand, thus_, but use allgently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, thewhirlwind of passion, _you must acquire and beget a temperance_ thatmay give it smoothness. 

2

In my native town of Athens is a monument that crowns its centralhills--a plain, white shaft. _Deep cut into its shining side is aname_ dear to me above the names of men, that of a brave and simpleman who died in brave and simple faith. Not for all the glories of NewEngland--from Plymouth Rock all the way--would I exchange the heritagehe left me in his soldier's death. 

3

Sir, when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which place themurderers of Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy andAdams, _I thought those pictured lips_ (pointing to the portraitsin the Hall) would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreantAmerican, --the slanderer of the dead. 

4

Suppose I stood at the foot of Vesuvius, or Ętna, and, seeing a hamletor a homestead planted on its slope, I said to the dwellers in thathamlet, or in that homestead, "_You see that vapor which ascends fromthe summit of the mountain. _ That vapor may become a dense, blacksmoke, that will obscure the sky. _You see the trickling of lava fromthe crevices in the side of the mountain. _ That trickling of lavamay become a river of fire. _You hear that muttering in the bowels ofthe mountain. _ That muttering may become a bellowing thunder, thevoice of violent convulsion, that may shake half a continent. "

5

And what have we to oppose them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we havebeen trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offerupon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every lightof which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort toentreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which havenot been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceiveourselves longer. 

CHARACTERIZATION

1

Learn from real life. Don't go by the spelling. Don't overdo thedialect. 

 'E carried me away To where a dooli lay, An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. 'E put me safe inside, An' just before 'e died: "I 'ope you liked your drink, " sez Gunga Din. 

2

Sergeant Buzfuz began by saying that never, in the whole course of hisexperience, --never, from the very first moment of his applying himselfto the study and practice of the law, had he approached a case withsuch a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him. 

3

I'm a walkin' pedestrian, a travelin' philosopher. Terry O'Mulligan'sme name. I'm from Dublin, where many philosophers before me was raisedand bred. Oh, philosophy is a foine study! I don't know anything aboutit, but it's a foine study!

4

It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies whoare de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer butnot inebriate, and, derefore, vid all homage to de dear sex, de toastdat I have to propose is, "De Ladies! God bless dem all!"

5

What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin' gray, an' a' that;Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine--A man's a man, for a' that. 

For a' that, an' a' that, Their tinsel show, an' a' that, The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that!

6

A keerless man in his talk was Jim, And an awkward hand in a row, But he never flunked, and he never lied, --I reckon he never knowed how. He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, --And he went for it thar and then;And Christ ain't agoing to be too hardOn a man that died for men.