me any. I wish you would tell me a very pretty one, Father. Well, with all my heart-what shall it be? dear Father. A bloody murder! Well then-Once upon a time, some men, dressed all alike— Charles. With black crape over their faces? Father. No; they had steel caps on :-having crossed a dark heath, wound cautiously along the skirts of a deep for est Charles. They were ill-looking fellows, I dare say. Father. I cannot say so; on the contrary, they were tall personable men as most one shall see :-leaving on their right hand an old ruined tower on the hill Charles. At midnight, just as the clock struck twelve ; was it not, papa ? Father. No, really; it was on a fine balmy summer's morning and moved forward, one behind another— Charles. As still as death, creeping along under the hedges. Father. On the contrary-they walked remarkably upright; and so far from endeavoring to be hushed and still, they made a loud noise as they came along, with several sorts of instruments. Charles. But, papa, they would be found out immediately. Father. They did not seem to wish to conceal themselves; on the contrary, they gloried in what they were about. They moved forward, I say, to a large plain, where stood a neat pretty village, which they set on fire Charles. Set a village on fire? wicked wretches! Father. And while it was burning, they murdered twenty thousand men. Charles. O fie! papa! you do not intend I should believe this; I thought all along you were making up a tale, as you often do; but you shall not catch me this time. What! they lay still, I suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats! Father. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could. Charles. How should these men kill twenty thousand people, pray ? Father. Why not? the murderers were thirty thousand. Charles. O, now I have found you out-I understand you! You mean a battle. Father. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murderers half so bloody. THESE Figures represent two boys in the act of speaking a dialogue. The one addressed is in the second position; it is not necessary, nor, perhaps, proper, to keep in this position all the time the other speaker is declaiming, but it will be well, in general, to assume it, at least before the reply is made. It will enable the respondent to come into the first position as he begins, and thus impart life and beauty to his action. Whether he change or not, however, must depend somewhat upon the style of the composition and the spirit of his part. The pupil will notice, particularly, that the breast of each Figure is full front to the audience. This is a point of considerable importance. Whether the speakers be two or a greater number, each must stand in such a manner, that the language of his countenance shall be as distinct to the eye, as that of his voice is to the ear. The dialogue is between the speakers, but it is intended for the amusement or gratification of the audience. How ill-bred it appears when we see boys thus engaged, standing directly face to face, and almost turning their backs to those who have kindly assembled to witness their juvenile performances, in an art, which more than almost any other, perhaps, demands of its votaries, taste, skill, and propriety of deportment. LESSON VIII. WAR SONG OF THE REVOLUTION-ANONYMOUS. OFFICERS-SOLDIERS. THIS is a good selection for class or concert speaking-the officers should be six, or any other reasonable number, arranged on one side, and the soldiers twenty or more. Officers. ARM, arm for the battle-Invasion has come His shadow has darkened our soil. Soldiers. We are ready-all ready—our sword shall strike home, Ere the robber has gathered his spoil. Officers. Arm, arm for the battle-'tis liberty calls, Soldiers. We are ready-all ready-our hearts are her walls, Officers. Arm, arm for the battle-our children and wives Soldiers. We are ready-all ready-and pledged are our lives Officers. Arm, arm for the battle-and cowards may fly- Soldiers. We are ready-all ready-we'll shout ere we die- LESSON IX. WINTER-ANONYMOUS. FIRST SPEAKER-SECOND SPEAKER. First Speaker. How dreary is winter! how sad is the hour When the bleak winds have scattered the leaves from the bower, And the snow on the meadow lies cold! Second Speaker. How pleasant is winter, how sweet is the day, When, blessed with the warmth of the fire's cheering ray, With our friends sweet communion we hold. First Speaker. The voice of the songsters can cheer us no more, Second Speaker. "Tis the time for reflection, when winter appears, When our thoughts may ascend from this valley of tears, To the regions of infinite day. First Speaker. "Tis an emblem of life, when the spring time is past, And dreary old age is approaching at last, And the sun is unclouded no more. Second Speaker. 'Tis an emblem of purity, free from a stain, Of such as in Heaven forever shall reign, When the tempests of life-time are o'er. LESSON X. THE CHILDREN'S CHOICE.-MRS. GILMAN, MOTHER, (OR FATHER,)—JOHN-WILLIAM. John. I MEAN to be a soldier With uniform quite new, I would go amid the battle, With my broad sword in my hand, And hear the cannon rattle, And the music all so grand. Mother, (or Father.) My son! my son! what if that sword Should strike a noble heart, And bid some loving father From his little ones depart? What comfort would your waving plumes, When you thought upon his widow's tears I mean to be a President, Mother, (or Father.) My son! my son! the cares of state, That ever pierce the good man's heart, The great and gay to him appear As trifling as the dust, For he knows how little they are worth, I cannot bear to chill your path Yet humbly take what God bestows, Look up in sunshine with a smile, LESSON XI. LIFE, DEATH, AND ETERNITY-ANONYMOUS. FIRST SPEAKER-SECOND SPEAKER-THIRD SPEAKER. First Speaker. A SHADOW moving by one's side That would a substance seem, That is, yet is not,-though descried, Like skies beneath the stream: |