Out of the woods my Master went,
And he was well content.

Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo him last,
From under the trees they drew him last,
"Twas on a tree they slew him-last,
When out of the woods he came.

VIII. Transition

The great mistake made by most public speakers and interpreters of literature, is the failure to make a transition at the proper time and in the proper way. As it is essential that a transition should be made between each idea which deals wholly with the mental activities and is primarily mental; the next and the greater transition is the one made first, mentally, and then physically, between situations. In order to do this, it means that the mind should grasp the new situation so thoroughly as not only to stir the body by the new thrill caused by the new concept in the mind, as when it receives the new idea, but also, the new situation should stir the body to such an extent that it becomes a law of locomotion, and should cause the individual to actually step, or even suggest any motion in order to convey the meaning implied by the thought movement.

THE EVE OF WATERLOO

Lord Byron.

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet;

But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar!

And then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess
If evermore should meet those mutual eyes,

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!

And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering, with white lips,-"The foe! They come! they come!"

You will observe in the above poem after the line "And all went merry as a marriage bell" there should be a transition of the whole body and upon the feet before the next line is begun,-"But hush, hark," which carries through to

the end of the line. "Did ye not hear it?" Another transition arrives at this point in the reply to the other speakers, and so on throughout the entire poem.

RENOUNCEMENT

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,

I shun the thought that lurks in all delight—

Meynell.

The thought of thee and in the blue Heaven's height, And in the sweetest passage of a song.

Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng

This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;

But it must never, never come in sight;

I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away,

With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.

IX. Phrasing

Phrasing is the separation and grouping of ideas so as to arrange them in successive steps or waves, showing continuity of thought. It is closely allied to pausing. Ideas come by irregular pulsations; no two ideas receive the same impetus, and in being recreated, if truthful, will never be presented with the same degree of intensity; but like the successive gust of wind playing upon the pine needles, in the forest, or the succeeding splash of waves upon the coast, each idea should spontaneously breathe forth after having been truly conceived. It is the systole and dyastole of nature in all her forms of life.

The importance of grouping ideas so as to carry the thought and keep it sustained until the end of the phrase is reached, should receive the most careful attention and most thorough concentration, for in this matter of phrasing, the speaker usually meets his "Waterloo." The mere enumeration of ideas, as you might a series of white beans distributed upon a table, is nothing more nor less than a mechanical "modus operandi," and this mechanical process is the one thing among all others which has brought disgrace upon the noble profession of the Spoken Word.

The imitative method, promulgated in many of the older institutions, wherein the teacher reads the poem and phrases it, either good, bad or indifferently, after which the students do their best to imitate the teacher, is destructive; because when the students are set adrift with their diplomas, to go forth to procure for themselves a position in some private or high school, seminary, or college, and when they are brought face to face with some new line of Literature which they have never heard their teacher read, there comes to pass the most despicable thing that is possible for a person to perpetrate upon a child or an untrained mind:-the attempt to bluff or cover up ignorance with some pretty mimicry or affected gestures which will eventually turn all thinking minds into disgust and consequent degradation. In the following extract which I have separated by double dashes, you will note the successive new phrases:

With wan,-fevered face-tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze,―he looked out wistfully upon the ocean's changing wonders; on its fair sails-whitening in the morning light; on its restless waves,-rolling shoreward to break -and die beneath the noonday sun;-on the red clouds of evening,-arching low-to the horizon; on the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Geo. W. Curtis.

The new South is enamored of her new work. Her soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrilling with the consciousness of growing power and prosperity. As she stands upright, full statured and equal, among the people of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking out upon the expanded horizon, she understands that her emancipation came because, through the inscrutable wisdom of God, her honest purpose was crossed and her brave armies were beaten.

Henry W. Grady.

The widespread Republic is the true monument to Washington. Maintain its independence; uphold its constitution; preserve its union; defend its liberty. Let it stand before the world in all its original strength and beauty, securing peace, order, equality, and freedom to all within its boundaries, and shedding light and hope and joy upon the pathway of human liberty throughout the world, and Washington needs no other monument. Other structures may fitly test our veneration for him; this, this alone can adequately illustrate his services to man-kind. Nor does he need even this. The Republic may perish, the wide arch of our ranged Union may fall, star by star its glories may expire, stone by stone its column and its capitol may crumble, all other names which adorn its annals may be forgotten, but, as long as human hearts shall anywhere plead for true, rational, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall enshrine the memory, and those tongues prolong the fame, of George Washington. Robert C. Winthrop.