Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, "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, "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; "For heathen heart that puts her trust And guarding calls not Thee to guard; -Rudyard Kipling. LESSON XLIX The emotions studied in this lesson and the next are often grouped together because they are all expressed by Breathiness. The feeling of Weariness or exhaustion, shows itself in breathy tones (sometimes almost a sigh) because the mind or body is too tired to control the breathing in a normal way; so the tones are mixed with outcoming breath, that is, you are exhaling while saying the words. Old Adam says to Orlando: Dear master, I can go no further: 0, 1 die for food! Here lie I down and measure out my grave. Farewell kind master. Rosalind. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits. Touchstone. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Sometimes the exhaustion is caused not by bodily exertion but by suffering or weariness of spirit. O Ephriam, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the dew that goeth early away. -Hosea 6:4. Shylock (at the close of the trial) says: I am not well, I pray you give me leave to go from hence. In the following selections, mark the passages that express Weariness; also any passages that express Genial, Exalted, Stern or Awesome feelings. Enter into the spirit of them, and read each with sympathy. By land and sea I travelled wide; I wandered by a greenwood's side My eyes were opened, and I cried, -F. W. Bourdillon. DEATH OF PAUL DOMBEY When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall, like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen into night. Then he thought how the long unseen streets were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city; and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it would look reflecting the hosts of stars: and. more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea. "Floy! What is that?" "Where, dearest?" "There! at the bottom of the bed." "There's nothing there, except papa!" The figure lifted up its head and rose, and, coming to the bedside, said: "My own boy! Don't you know me?" Paul looked it in the face. Before he could reach out both his hands the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door. The next time he observed the figure sitting at the bottom of the bed, he called. "Don't be so sorry for me, dear papa. Indeed, I am quite happy!" His father coming and bending down to him he held him around the neck, and repeated these words to him several times, and very earnestly: and he never saw his father in his room again at any time, whether it were day or night, but he called out, "Don't be so sorry for me! Indeed, I am quite happy!" How many times the golden water danced upon the wall, how many nights the dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him, Paul never sought to know. One night he had been thinking of his mother and her picture in the drawing room down stairs. The train of thought suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother.. For he could not remember whether they had told him yes or no; the river running very fast, and confusing his mind. "Floy. did I ever see mamma?" "No. darling; why?" "Did I never see any kind face, like mamma's, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?" "O yes, dear!" "Whose, Floy?" "Your old nurse's. Often." "And where is my old nurse? Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please!" "She is not here, darling. She shall come tomorrow." "Thank you, Floy!" Little Dombey closed his eyes with these words, and fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and warm. Then he awoke,—woke mind and body,—and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no gray mist before them, as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by their names. "And who is this? Is this my old nurse?" asked the child, regarding, with a radiant smile, a figure coming in. Yes, Yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity. "Floy! this is a kind, good face! I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse. Stay here! Good by!" "Good by, my child?" she cried, hurrying to his bed's head. "Not good by?" "Ah yes! Good by!-Where is papa?" His father's breath was on his cheek before the words had parted from his lips. The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it cried "Good by!" again. "Now lay me down; and, Floy come close to me, and let me see you." Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together. "How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, Floy! But, it's very near the sea now. I hear the waves! They always said so!" Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. Now the boat was out at sea. And now there was a shore before him. stood on the bank! Who "Mamma is like you, Floy. I know her by the face!" The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first parents, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion,-Death! O. thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion, yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, Angels of young children, with your loving eyes when the swift river bears us to the ocean. -Charles Dickens. Another emotion that causes a similar breathless or breathy condition is the feeling of Stealthiness. This may arise from a sense of danger, which impels to secrecy or from the impulse of caution. In all of these the voice is subdued and has something of the whispering quality; not so breathy as Weariness. Marcellus. comes again! (Enter Ghost.) Peace, break thee off; look where it Cassius. Casca, be sudden for we fear prevention. Now Kitty, don't you tell anybody I've runned away. As there are no ladies present, I may confess to about seventy years myself. Find examples of this feeling in the following, do not expect a whole selection to be drenched in stealthiness. It may affect only a few sentences, but we must be sure of those. After mastering the selections, read each artistically. Most wild animals are specialists; that is to say, they are highly developed in one particular direction. The tiger is great as a stalker. His feet seem to be "shod with silence." R. H. Elliot, for many years a resident of India, cites an experience of one of his neighbors illustrative of this point. He had been much annoyed by tigers, and at last tied a bullock out in a clearing and took up his own position in a tree, to wait till the tiger should come after the bait. The ground was covered with dried leaves, which in hot weather are so brittle that even the walking of a bird over them can be heard for a good distance, In no very long time a large tiger slipped out of the forest, and slowly edged toward the bullock. His method was so elaborate and careful that the man who saw it used to declare that it would have been worth a thousand rupees to any young sportsman to have witnessed it. So carefully did he put down each paw, and so gradually did he crush the leaves under it, that not a sound was to be heard. Between him and the bullock was a stump, about four feet high, with long-projecting surface roots. He got upon one of the roots, balanced himself carefully, and so was able to walk quickly and silently as far as the stump. He approached so gradually and noiselessly, |