The patter of feet was on the stair,As the Editor turned in his sanctum chair,And said—for weary the day had been—“Don’t let another intruder in.”But scarce had he uttered the words, beforeA face peered in at the half-closed door,And a child sobbed out—“Sir, mother saidI should come and tell you that Dan is dead.”“And pray who is ‘Dan’?” The streaming eyesLooked questioning up, with a strange surprise:“Not know him?—Why, sir, all day he soldThe papers you print, through wet and cold.“The newsboys say that they could not tellThe reason his stock went off so well:I knew!—with a voice so weak and low,Could any one bear to say him ‘No?’“And the money he made, whatever it be,He carried straight home to mother and me:No matter about his rags, he said,If only he kept us clothed and fed.“And he did it, sir—trudging through rain and cold,Nor stopped till the last of his sheets was sold;But he’s dead—he’s dead! and we miss him so!And mother—she thought you might like to know!”In the paper, next morning, as “leader,” ranA paragraph thus: “The newsboy Dan,One of God’s little heroes, whoDid nobly the duty he had to do—For mother and sister earning bread,By patient endurance and toil—is dead.”Margaret J. Preston.
The patter of feet was on the stair,As the Editor turned in his sanctum chair,And said—for weary the day had been—“Don’t let another intruder in.”But scarce had he uttered the words, beforeA face peered in at the half-closed door,And a child sobbed out—“Sir, mother saidI should come and tell you that Dan is dead.”“And pray who is ‘Dan’?” The streaming eyesLooked questioning up, with a strange surprise:“Not know him?—Why, sir, all day he soldThe papers you print, through wet and cold.“The newsboys say that they could not tellThe reason his stock went off so well:I knew!—with a voice so weak and low,Could any one bear to say him ‘No?’“And the money he made, whatever it be,He carried straight home to mother and me:No matter about his rags, he said,If only he kept us clothed and fed.“And he did it, sir—trudging through rain and cold,Nor stopped till the last of his sheets was sold;But he’s dead—he’s dead! and we miss him so!And mother—she thought you might like to know!”In the paper, next morning, as “leader,” ranA paragraph thus: “The newsboy Dan,One of God’s little heroes, whoDid nobly the duty he had to do—For mother and sister earning bread,By patient endurance and toil—is dead.”Margaret J. Preston.
The patter of feet was on the stair,As the Editor turned in his sanctum chair,And said—for weary the day had been—“Don’t let another intruder in.”
The patter of feet was on the stair,
As the Editor turned in his sanctum chair,
And said—for weary the day had been—
“Don’t let another intruder in.”
But scarce had he uttered the words, beforeA face peered in at the half-closed door,And a child sobbed out—“Sir, mother saidI should come and tell you that Dan is dead.”
But scarce had he uttered the words, before
A face peered in at the half-closed door,
And a child sobbed out—“Sir, mother said
I should come and tell you that Dan is dead.”
“And pray who is ‘Dan’?” The streaming eyesLooked questioning up, with a strange surprise:“Not know him?—Why, sir, all day he soldThe papers you print, through wet and cold.
“And pray who is ‘Dan’?” The streaming eyes
Looked questioning up, with a strange surprise:
“Not know him?—Why, sir, all day he sold
The papers you print, through wet and cold.
“The newsboys say that they could not tellThe reason his stock went off so well:I knew!—with a voice so weak and low,Could any one bear to say him ‘No?’
“The newsboys say that they could not tell
The reason his stock went off so well:
I knew!—with a voice so weak and low,
Could any one bear to say him ‘No?’
“And the money he made, whatever it be,He carried straight home to mother and me:No matter about his rags, he said,If only he kept us clothed and fed.
“And the money he made, whatever it be,
He carried straight home to mother and me:
No matter about his rags, he said,
If only he kept us clothed and fed.
“And he did it, sir—trudging through rain and cold,Nor stopped till the last of his sheets was sold;But he’s dead—he’s dead! and we miss him so!And mother—she thought you might like to know!”
“And he did it, sir—trudging through rain and cold,
Nor stopped till the last of his sheets was sold;
But he’s dead—he’s dead! and we miss him so!
And mother—she thought you might like to know!”
In the paper, next morning, as “leader,” ranA paragraph thus: “The newsboy Dan,One of God’s little heroes, whoDid nobly the duty he had to do—For mother and sister earning bread,By patient endurance and toil—is dead.”
In the paper, next morning, as “leader,” ran
A paragraph thus: “The newsboy Dan,
One of God’s little heroes, who
Did nobly the duty he had to do—
For mother and sister earning bread,
By patient endurance and toil—is dead.”
Margaret J. Preston.
Margaret J. Preston.
Little Rosie, walking slowlyPast the verdant meadow, seesMany cows, and some are standing,Others lying ’neath the trees.In the road stands little Rosie,Caring not for dust or mud,While her eyes are bent upon themAs they calmly chew their cud.Great surprise her face expresses,For awhile her lips are dumb;Then she cries out, “Mamma! Mamma!All the cows are chewing gum!”
Little Rosie, walking slowlyPast the verdant meadow, seesMany cows, and some are standing,Others lying ’neath the trees.In the road stands little Rosie,Caring not for dust or mud,While her eyes are bent upon themAs they calmly chew their cud.Great surprise her face expresses,For awhile her lips are dumb;Then she cries out, “Mamma! Mamma!All the cows are chewing gum!”
Little Rosie, walking slowlyPast the verdant meadow, seesMany cows, and some are standing,Others lying ’neath the trees.
Little Rosie, walking slowly
Past the verdant meadow, sees
Many cows, and some are standing,
Others lying ’neath the trees.
In the road stands little Rosie,Caring not for dust or mud,While her eyes are bent upon themAs they calmly chew their cud.
In the road stands little Rosie,
Caring not for dust or mud,
While her eyes are bent upon them
As they calmly chew their cud.
Great surprise her face expresses,For awhile her lips are dumb;Then she cries out, “Mamma! Mamma!All the cows are chewing gum!”
Great surprise her face expresses,
For awhile her lips are dumb;
Then she cries out, “Mamma! Mamma!
All the cows are chewing gum!”
“Yes, Bridget has gone to the city,And papa is sick, as you see,And mamma has no one to help herBut two-year old Lawrence and me.“You’d like to know what I am good for,’Cept to make work and tumble things down;I guess there aren’t no little girliesAt your house at home, Dr. Brown.“I’ve brushed all the crumbs from the table,And dusted the sofa and chairs,I’ve polished the hearthstone and fender,And swept off the area stairs.“I’ve wiped all the silver and china,And just dropped one piece on the floor,Yes, Doctor, it broke in the middle,But I ’spect it was cracked before.“And the steps that I saved precious mamma!You’d be s’prised, Doctor Brown, if you knew.She says if it wasn’t for BessieShe couldn’t exist the day through!“It’s ‘Bessie, bring papa some water!’And ‘Bessie dear, run to the door!’And ‘Bessie love, pick up the playthingsThe baby has dropped on the floor!’“Yes, Doctor, I’m ’siderably tired,I’ve been on my feet all the day;Good-bye! well, perhaps I will help youWhen your old Bridget ‘goes off to stay!’”
“Yes, Bridget has gone to the city,And papa is sick, as you see,And mamma has no one to help herBut two-year old Lawrence and me.“You’d like to know what I am good for,’Cept to make work and tumble things down;I guess there aren’t no little girliesAt your house at home, Dr. Brown.“I’ve brushed all the crumbs from the table,And dusted the sofa and chairs,I’ve polished the hearthstone and fender,And swept off the area stairs.“I’ve wiped all the silver and china,And just dropped one piece on the floor,Yes, Doctor, it broke in the middle,But I ’spect it was cracked before.“And the steps that I saved precious mamma!You’d be s’prised, Doctor Brown, if you knew.She says if it wasn’t for BessieShe couldn’t exist the day through!“It’s ‘Bessie, bring papa some water!’And ‘Bessie dear, run to the door!’And ‘Bessie love, pick up the playthingsThe baby has dropped on the floor!’“Yes, Doctor, I’m ’siderably tired,I’ve been on my feet all the day;Good-bye! well, perhaps I will help youWhen your old Bridget ‘goes off to stay!’”
“Yes, Bridget has gone to the city,And papa is sick, as you see,And mamma has no one to help herBut two-year old Lawrence and me.
“Yes, Bridget has gone to the city,
And papa is sick, as you see,
And mamma has no one to help her
But two-year old Lawrence and me.
“You’d like to know what I am good for,’Cept to make work and tumble things down;I guess there aren’t no little girliesAt your house at home, Dr. Brown.
“You’d like to know what I am good for,
’Cept to make work and tumble things down;
I guess there aren’t no little girlies
At your house at home, Dr. Brown.
“I’ve brushed all the crumbs from the table,And dusted the sofa and chairs,I’ve polished the hearthstone and fender,And swept off the area stairs.
“I’ve brushed all the crumbs from the table,
And dusted the sofa and chairs,
I’ve polished the hearthstone and fender,
And swept off the area stairs.
“I’ve wiped all the silver and china,And just dropped one piece on the floor,Yes, Doctor, it broke in the middle,But I ’spect it was cracked before.
“I’ve wiped all the silver and china,
And just dropped one piece on the floor,
Yes, Doctor, it broke in the middle,
But I ’spect it was cracked before.
“And the steps that I saved precious mamma!You’d be s’prised, Doctor Brown, if you knew.She says if it wasn’t for BessieShe couldn’t exist the day through!
“And the steps that I saved precious mamma!
You’d be s’prised, Doctor Brown, if you knew.
She says if it wasn’t for Bessie
She couldn’t exist the day through!
“It’s ‘Bessie, bring papa some water!’And ‘Bessie dear, run to the door!’And ‘Bessie love, pick up the playthingsThe baby has dropped on the floor!’
“It’s ‘Bessie, bring papa some water!’
And ‘Bessie dear, run to the door!’
And ‘Bessie love, pick up the playthings
The baby has dropped on the floor!’
“Yes, Doctor, I’m ’siderably tired,I’ve been on my feet all the day;Good-bye! well, perhaps I will help youWhen your old Bridget ‘goes off to stay!’”
“Yes, Doctor, I’m ’siderably tired,
I’ve been on my feet all the day;
Good-bye! well, perhaps I will help you
When your old Bridget ‘goes off to stay!’”
The morning was sunshiny, lovely, and clear,And two little wrens were both hovering near,Chirping and warbling with wonderful zest,Looking for some place to build them a nest.They searched the veranda, examined the trees,But never a place could they find that would please;Till Mabel, whose eyes were as blue as the sky,And very observing, their trouble did spy.Then, quick as the thought darted through her wee head,“I’ll help you, dear birdies,” she lispingly said;“You just wait a minute, I’ll give you my shoe;’Twill make you a nice nest—as good as if new.”With much toil and trouble she undid the knot,Took off the small shoe, and picked out a spotBehind a large pillar: there tucked it away;And soon she forgot it in innocent play.But the wrens chirped, “Why, here’s a nest ready-made,In the very best place, too, and quite in the shade!”They went to work quickly, without more ado,To keep house like the woman “that lived in a shoe.”When evening shades came, at the close of the day,And dear little Mable was tired of play,She thought of the birdies, and went off alone,To see, if she could, what the birdies had done,With heads under their wings the wrens were asleep;Side by side, in the shoe, they were cuddled down deep,Then, clapping her hands, Mable said, “Keep my shoe;My new ones I’ll wear, and this one’s for you.”
The morning was sunshiny, lovely, and clear,And two little wrens were both hovering near,Chirping and warbling with wonderful zest,Looking for some place to build them a nest.They searched the veranda, examined the trees,But never a place could they find that would please;Till Mabel, whose eyes were as blue as the sky,And very observing, their trouble did spy.Then, quick as the thought darted through her wee head,“I’ll help you, dear birdies,” she lispingly said;“You just wait a minute, I’ll give you my shoe;’Twill make you a nice nest—as good as if new.”With much toil and trouble she undid the knot,Took off the small shoe, and picked out a spotBehind a large pillar: there tucked it away;And soon she forgot it in innocent play.But the wrens chirped, “Why, here’s a nest ready-made,In the very best place, too, and quite in the shade!”They went to work quickly, without more ado,To keep house like the woman “that lived in a shoe.”When evening shades came, at the close of the day,And dear little Mable was tired of play,She thought of the birdies, and went off alone,To see, if she could, what the birdies had done,With heads under their wings the wrens were asleep;Side by side, in the shoe, they were cuddled down deep,Then, clapping her hands, Mable said, “Keep my shoe;My new ones I’ll wear, and this one’s for you.”
The morning was sunshiny, lovely, and clear,And two little wrens were both hovering near,Chirping and warbling with wonderful zest,Looking for some place to build them a nest.
The morning was sunshiny, lovely, and clear,
And two little wrens were both hovering near,
Chirping and warbling with wonderful zest,
Looking for some place to build them a nest.
They searched the veranda, examined the trees,But never a place could they find that would please;Till Mabel, whose eyes were as blue as the sky,And very observing, their trouble did spy.
They searched the veranda, examined the trees,
But never a place could they find that would please;
Till Mabel, whose eyes were as blue as the sky,
And very observing, their trouble did spy.
Then, quick as the thought darted through her wee head,“I’ll help you, dear birdies,” she lispingly said;“You just wait a minute, I’ll give you my shoe;’Twill make you a nice nest—as good as if new.”
Then, quick as the thought darted through her wee head,
“I’ll help you, dear birdies,” she lispingly said;
“You just wait a minute, I’ll give you my shoe;
’Twill make you a nice nest—as good as if new.”
With much toil and trouble she undid the knot,Took off the small shoe, and picked out a spotBehind a large pillar: there tucked it away;And soon she forgot it in innocent play.
With much toil and trouble she undid the knot,
Took off the small shoe, and picked out a spot
Behind a large pillar: there tucked it away;
And soon she forgot it in innocent play.
But the wrens chirped, “Why, here’s a nest ready-made,In the very best place, too, and quite in the shade!”They went to work quickly, without more ado,To keep house like the woman “that lived in a shoe.”
But the wrens chirped, “Why, here’s a nest ready-made,
In the very best place, too, and quite in the shade!”
They went to work quickly, without more ado,
To keep house like the woman “that lived in a shoe.”
When evening shades came, at the close of the day,And dear little Mable was tired of play,She thought of the birdies, and went off alone,To see, if she could, what the birdies had done,
When evening shades came, at the close of the day,
And dear little Mable was tired of play,
She thought of the birdies, and went off alone,
To see, if she could, what the birdies had done,
With heads under their wings the wrens were asleep;Side by side, in the shoe, they were cuddled down deep,Then, clapping her hands, Mable said, “Keep my shoe;My new ones I’ll wear, and this one’s for you.”
With heads under their wings the wrens were asleep;
Side by side, in the shoe, they were cuddled down deep,
Then, clapping her hands, Mable said, “Keep my shoe;
My new ones I’ll wear, and this one’s for you.”
Listen, my boy, and you shall knowA thing that happened a long time ago,When I was a boy not as large as you,And the youngest of all the children, too.I laugh even now as I think it o’er,And the more I think I laugh the more.’Twas the chilly eve of an autumn day;We were all in the kitchen, cheery and gay;The fire burned bright on the old brick hearth,And its cheerful light gave zest to our mirth.My elder sister, addressing me,“To-morrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” said she;“We must kill the chickens to-night, you see.Now light the lantern and come with me;I will wring their necks until they are dead,And have them all dressed ere we go to bed.”My sister, unused to sights of blood,And, pale with excitement, trembling stood;But summoning courage, she laid her plans,And seized the old rooster with both her hands,And, with triumph written all over her face,Her victim bore to the open space.Then she wrung and wrung with might and main,And wrung and twisted and wrung again,’Till, sure that the spark of life had fled,She threw him down on the ground for dead.But the rooster would not consent to die,And be made up into chicken-pie,So he sprang away with a cackle and bound,Almost as soon as he touched the ground,And hiding away from the candle’s light,Escaped the slaughter of that dark night.My sister, thus brought to sudden stand,And looking at what she held in her hand,Soon saw why the rooster was not dead—She had wrung off his tail instead of his head!
Listen, my boy, and you shall knowA thing that happened a long time ago,When I was a boy not as large as you,And the youngest of all the children, too.I laugh even now as I think it o’er,And the more I think I laugh the more.’Twas the chilly eve of an autumn day;We were all in the kitchen, cheery and gay;The fire burned bright on the old brick hearth,And its cheerful light gave zest to our mirth.My elder sister, addressing me,“To-morrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” said she;“We must kill the chickens to-night, you see.Now light the lantern and come with me;I will wring their necks until they are dead,And have them all dressed ere we go to bed.”My sister, unused to sights of blood,And, pale with excitement, trembling stood;But summoning courage, she laid her plans,And seized the old rooster with both her hands,And, with triumph written all over her face,Her victim bore to the open space.Then she wrung and wrung with might and main,And wrung and twisted and wrung again,’Till, sure that the spark of life had fled,She threw him down on the ground for dead.But the rooster would not consent to die,And be made up into chicken-pie,So he sprang away with a cackle and bound,Almost as soon as he touched the ground,And hiding away from the candle’s light,Escaped the slaughter of that dark night.My sister, thus brought to sudden stand,And looking at what she held in her hand,Soon saw why the rooster was not dead—She had wrung off his tail instead of his head!
Listen, my boy, and you shall knowA thing that happened a long time ago,When I was a boy not as large as you,And the youngest of all the children, too.I laugh even now as I think it o’er,And the more I think I laugh the more.’Twas the chilly eve of an autumn day;We were all in the kitchen, cheery and gay;The fire burned bright on the old brick hearth,And its cheerful light gave zest to our mirth.My elder sister, addressing me,“To-morrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” said she;“We must kill the chickens to-night, you see.Now light the lantern and come with me;I will wring their necks until they are dead,And have them all dressed ere we go to bed.”
Listen, my boy, and you shall know
A thing that happened a long time ago,
When I was a boy not as large as you,
And the youngest of all the children, too.
I laugh even now as I think it o’er,
And the more I think I laugh the more.
’Twas the chilly eve of an autumn day;
We were all in the kitchen, cheery and gay;
The fire burned bright on the old brick hearth,
And its cheerful light gave zest to our mirth.
My elder sister, addressing me,
“To-morrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” said she;
“We must kill the chickens to-night, you see.
Now light the lantern and come with me;
I will wring their necks until they are dead,
And have them all dressed ere we go to bed.”
My sister, unused to sights of blood,And, pale with excitement, trembling stood;But summoning courage, she laid her plans,And seized the old rooster with both her hands,And, with triumph written all over her face,Her victim bore to the open space.Then she wrung and wrung with might and main,And wrung and twisted and wrung again,’Till, sure that the spark of life had fled,She threw him down on the ground for dead.
My sister, unused to sights of blood,
And, pale with excitement, trembling stood;
But summoning courage, she laid her plans,
And seized the old rooster with both her hands,
And, with triumph written all over her face,
Her victim bore to the open space.
Then she wrung and wrung with might and main,
And wrung and twisted and wrung again,
’Till, sure that the spark of life had fled,
She threw him down on the ground for dead.
But the rooster would not consent to die,And be made up into chicken-pie,So he sprang away with a cackle and bound,Almost as soon as he touched the ground,And hiding away from the candle’s light,Escaped the slaughter of that dark night.My sister, thus brought to sudden stand,And looking at what she held in her hand,Soon saw why the rooster was not dead—She had wrung off his tail instead of his head!
But the rooster would not consent to die,
And be made up into chicken-pie,
So he sprang away with a cackle and bound,
Almost as soon as he touched the ground,
And hiding away from the candle’s light,
Escaped the slaughter of that dark night.
My sister, thus brought to sudden stand,
And looking at what she held in her hand,
Soon saw why the rooster was not dead—
She had wrung off his tail instead of his head!
It needs a cute little girl who can make appropriate gestures to recite this piece.
My dolly is very sick!I don’t know what to do;Her little forehead it scowls quite horrid,Her lips are turning blue.She’s got a dreadful pain,I know it from her face;I’ll fetch a pellet and make her smell it,From mamma’s medicine-case.There, there, my child, lie still;That’s sure to do you good.Now don’t be ugly, I’ll wrap you snuglyAll in your scarlet hood.I know what made her sick!She’s had too much to eat!A piece of cheese, six blackberriesAnd a little bit of meat!That’s too much for a doll,(Hush, Baby dear, don’t cry!)All those blackberries, besides stewed cherries,And huckleberry pie.I ought to be ashamed(That’s just what mamma said)To let my dolly commit such folly,And get a pain in her head.Some gruel would do her good;What fun ’twill be to make it!Just flour and water, and then, my daughter,You’ll have to wake and take it!I’d like to be a cook!How nice the grueldoessmell!Oh, there it goes all over her nose!Now dolly has got well.
My dolly is very sick!I don’t know what to do;Her little forehead it scowls quite horrid,Her lips are turning blue.She’s got a dreadful pain,I know it from her face;I’ll fetch a pellet and make her smell it,From mamma’s medicine-case.There, there, my child, lie still;That’s sure to do you good.Now don’t be ugly, I’ll wrap you snuglyAll in your scarlet hood.I know what made her sick!She’s had too much to eat!A piece of cheese, six blackberriesAnd a little bit of meat!That’s too much for a doll,(Hush, Baby dear, don’t cry!)All those blackberries, besides stewed cherries,And huckleberry pie.I ought to be ashamed(That’s just what mamma said)To let my dolly commit such folly,And get a pain in her head.Some gruel would do her good;What fun ’twill be to make it!Just flour and water, and then, my daughter,You’ll have to wake and take it!I’d like to be a cook!How nice the grueldoessmell!Oh, there it goes all over her nose!Now dolly has got well.
My dolly is very sick!I don’t know what to do;Her little forehead it scowls quite horrid,Her lips are turning blue.
My dolly is very sick!
I don’t know what to do;
Her little forehead it scowls quite horrid,
Her lips are turning blue.
She’s got a dreadful pain,I know it from her face;I’ll fetch a pellet and make her smell it,From mamma’s medicine-case.
She’s got a dreadful pain,
I know it from her face;
I’ll fetch a pellet and make her smell it,
From mamma’s medicine-case.
There, there, my child, lie still;That’s sure to do you good.Now don’t be ugly, I’ll wrap you snuglyAll in your scarlet hood.
There, there, my child, lie still;
That’s sure to do you good.
Now don’t be ugly, I’ll wrap you snugly
All in your scarlet hood.
I know what made her sick!She’s had too much to eat!A piece of cheese, six blackberriesAnd a little bit of meat!
I know what made her sick!
She’s had too much to eat!
A piece of cheese, six blackberries
And a little bit of meat!
That’s too much for a doll,(Hush, Baby dear, don’t cry!)All those blackberries, besides stewed cherries,And huckleberry pie.
That’s too much for a doll,
(Hush, Baby dear, don’t cry!)
All those blackberries, besides stewed cherries,
And huckleberry pie.
I ought to be ashamed(That’s just what mamma said)To let my dolly commit such folly,And get a pain in her head.
I ought to be ashamed
(That’s just what mamma said)
To let my dolly commit such folly,
And get a pain in her head.
Some gruel would do her good;What fun ’twill be to make it!Just flour and water, and then, my daughter,You’ll have to wake and take it!
Some gruel would do her good;
What fun ’twill be to make it!
Just flour and water, and then, my daughter,
You’ll have to wake and take it!
I’d like to be a cook!How nice the grueldoessmell!Oh, there it goes all over her nose!Now dolly has got well.
I’d like to be a cook!
How nice the grueldoessmell!
Oh, there it goes all over her nose!
Now dolly has got well.
For seven little boys and girls. Teacher or some large boy or girl should speak.
The days of the week once talking togetherAbout their housekeeping, their friends and the weather,Agreed in their talk it would be a nice thingFor all to march, and dance, and sing;So they all stood up in a very straight row,And this is the way they decided to go:(Let seven children stand up, and as day of week iscalled, take places, each one equipped withthe things the speaker mentions.)First came little Sunday, so sweet and good,With a book in her hand, at the head she stood.Monday skipped in with soap and a tub,Scrubbing away with a rub-a-dub-dub;With board and iron comes Tuesday bright,Talking to Monday in great delight.Then Wednesday—the dear little cook—came in,Riding cock horse on his rolling-pin.Thursday followed, with broom and brush,Her hair in a towel, and she in a rush.Friday appeared, gayly tripping along;He scoured the knives and then he was gone.Saturday last, with a great big tub,Into which we all jump for a very good rub.(The children march and sing to the tune of“Good Morning, Merry Sunshine.”)Children of the week are we,Happy, busy, full of glee.Often do we come this way,And you meet us every day.Hand in hand we trip along,Singing, as we go, a song.Each one may a duty bring,Though it be a little thing.(All bow, and, taking up the articles, retire fromthe stage in order, Sunday, Monday etc.)Mary Ely Page.
The days of the week once talking togetherAbout their housekeeping, their friends and the weather,Agreed in their talk it would be a nice thingFor all to march, and dance, and sing;So they all stood up in a very straight row,And this is the way they decided to go:(Let seven children stand up, and as day of week iscalled, take places, each one equipped withthe things the speaker mentions.)First came little Sunday, so sweet and good,With a book in her hand, at the head she stood.Monday skipped in with soap and a tub,Scrubbing away with a rub-a-dub-dub;With board and iron comes Tuesday bright,Talking to Monday in great delight.Then Wednesday—the dear little cook—came in,Riding cock horse on his rolling-pin.Thursday followed, with broom and brush,Her hair in a towel, and she in a rush.Friday appeared, gayly tripping along;He scoured the knives and then he was gone.Saturday last, with a great big tub,Into which we all jump for a very good rub.(The children march and sing to the tune of“Good Morning, Merry Sunshine.”)Children of the week are we,Happy, busy, full of glee.Often do we come this way,And you meet us every day.Hand in hand we trip along,Singing, as we go, a song.Each one may a duty bring,Though it be a little thing.(All bow, and, taking up the articles, retire fromthe stage in order, Sunday, Monday etc.)Mary Ely Page.
The days of the week once talking togetherAbout their housekeeping, their friends and the weather,Agreed in their talk it would be a nice thingFor all to march, and dance, and sing;So they all stood up in a very straight row,And this is the way they decided to go:
The days of the week once talking together
About their housekeeping, their friends and the weather,
Agreed in their talk it would be a nice thing
For all to march, and dance, and sing;
So they all stood up in a very straight row,
And this is the way they decided to go:
(Let seven children stand up, and as day of week iscalled, take places, each one equipped withthe things the speaker mentions.)
(Let seven children stand up, and as day of week iscalled, take places, each one equipped withthe things the speaker mentions.)
First came little Sunday, so sweet and good,With a book in her hand, at the head she stood.Monday skipped in with soap and a tub,Scrubbing away with a rub-a-dub-dub;With board and iron comes Tuesday bright,Talking to Monday in great delight.Then Wednesday—the dear little cook—came in,Riding cock horse on his rolling-pin.Thursday followed, with broom and brush,Her hair in a towel, and she in a rush.Friday appeared, gayly tripping along;He scoured the knives and then he was gone.Saturday last, with a great big tub,Into which we all jump for a very good rub.
First came little Sunday, so sweet and good,
With a book in her hand, at the head she stood.
Monday skipped in with soap and a tub,
Scrubbing away with a rub-a-dub-dub;
With board and iron comes Tuesday bright,
Talking to Monday in great delight.
Then Wednesday—the dear little cook—came in,
Riding cock horse on his rolling-pin.
Thursday followed, with broom and brush,
Her hair in a towel, and she in a rush.
Friday appeared, gayly tripping along;
He scoured the knives and then he was gone.
Saturday last, with a great big tub,
Into which we all jump for a very good rub.
(The children march and sing to the tune of“Good Morning, Merry Sunshine.”)
(The children march and sing to the tune of“Good Morning, Merry Sunshine.”)
Children of the week are we,Happy, busy, full of glee.Often do we come this way,And you meet us every day.Hand in hand we trip along,Singing, as we go, a song.Each one may a duty bring,Though it be a little thing.
Children of the week are we,
Happy, busy, full of glee.
Often do we come this way,
And you meet us every day.
Hand in hand we trip along,
Singing, as we go, a song.
Each one may a duty bring,
Though it be a little thing.
(All bow, and, taking up the articles, retire fromthe stage in order, Sunday, Monday etc.)
(All bow, and, taking up the articles, retire fromthe stage in order, Sunday, Monday etc.)
Mary Ely Page.
Mary Ely Page.
And there they sat, a popping corn,John Styles and Susan Cutter—John Styles as fat as any oxAnd Susan fat as butter.And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of careAnd hitched their chairs up nigher.Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.And then they shelled, and popped and ate,All kinds of fun a-poking,While he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.And still they popped, and still they ate—John’s mouth was like a hopper—And stirred the fire and sprinkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping;It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter—Till John cried out, “The corn’s afire!Why, Susan, what’s the matter?”Said she, “John Styles, it’s one o’clock;You’ll die of indigestion;I’m sick of all this popping corn—Why don’t you pop the question?”
And there they sat, a popping corn,John Styles and Susan Cutter—John Styles as fat as any oxAnd Susan fat as butter.And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of careAnd hitched their chairs up nigher.Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.And then they shelled, and popped and ate,All kinds of fun a-poking,While he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.And still they popped, and still they ate—John’s mouth was like a hopper—And stirred the fire and sprinkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping;It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter—Till John cried out, “The corn’s afire!Why, Susan, what’s the matter?”Said she, “John Styles, it’s one o’clock;You’ll die of indigestion;I’m sick of all this popping corn—Why don’t you pop the question?”
And there they sat, a popping corn,John Styles and Susan Cutter—John Styles as fat as any oxAnd Susan fat as butter.
And there they sat, a popping corn,
John Styles and Susan Cutter—
John Styles as fat as any ox
And Susan fat as butter.
And there they sat and shelled the corn,And raked and stirred the fire,And talked of different kinds of careAnd hitched their chairs up nigher.
And there they sat and shelled the corn,
And raked and stirred the fire,
And talked of different kinds of care
And hitched their chairs up nigher.
Then Susan she the popper shook,Then John he shook the popper,Till both their faces grew as redAs saucepans made of copper.
Then Susan she the popper shook,
Then John he shook the popper,
Till both their faces grew as red
As saucepans made of copper.
And then they shelled, and popped and ate,All kinds of fun a-poking,While he haw-hawed at her remarks,And she laughed at his joking.
And then they shelled, and popped and ate,
All kinds of fun a-poking,
While he haw-hawed at her remarks,
And she laughed at his joking.
And still they popped, and still they ate—John’s mouth was like a hopper—And stirred the fire and sprinkled salt,And shook and shook the popper.
And still they popped, and still they ate—
John’s mouth was like a hopper—
And stirred the fire and sprinkled salt,
And shook and shook the popper.
The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten,And still the corn kept popping;It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,And still no signs of stopping.
The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten,
And still the corn kept popping;
It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,
And still no signs of stopping.
And John he ate, and Sue she thought—The corn did pop and patter—Till John cried out, “The corn’s afire!Why, Susan, what’s the matter?”
And John he ate, and Sue she thought—
The corn did pop and patter—
Till John cried out, “The corn’s afire!
Why, Susan, what’s the matter?”
Said she, “John Styles, it’s one o’clock;You’ll die of indigestion;I’m sick of all this popping corn—Why don’t you pop the question?”
Said she, “John Styles, it’s one o’clock;
You’ll die of indigestion;
I’m sick of all this popping corn—
Why don’t you pop the question?”
For Several Boys.
This is the way the happy farmer(1)Plows his piece of ground,That from the little seeds he sowsA large crop may abound.This is the way he sows the seed,(2)Dropping with careful hand,In all the furrows well preparedUpon the fertile land.This is the way he cuts the grain(3)When bending with its weight;And thus he bundles it in sheaves,(4)Working long and late.And then the grain he threshes thus,(5)And stores away to keep;And thus he stands contentedly(6)And views the plenteous heap.
This is the way the happy farmer(1)Plows his piece of ground,That from the little seeds he sowsA large crop may abound.This is the way he sows the seed,(2)Dropping with careful hand,In all the furrows well preparedUpon the fertile land.This is the way he cuts the grain(3)When bending with its weight;And thus he bundles it in sheaves,(4)Working long and late.And then the grain he threshes thus,(5)And stores away to keep;And thus he stands contentedly(6)And views the plenteous heap.
This is the way the happy farmer(1)Plows his piece of ground,That from the little seeds he sowsA large crop may abound.
This is the way the happy farmer(1)
Plows his piece of ground,
That from the little seeds he sows
A large crop may abound.
This is the way he sows the seed,(2)Dropping with careful hand,In all the furrows well preparedUpon the fertile land.
This is the way he sows the seed,(2)
Dropping with careful hand,
In all the furrows well prepared
Upon the fertile land.
This is the way he cuts the grain(3)When bending with its weight;And thus he bundles it in sheaves,(4)Working long and late.
This is the way he cuts the grain(3)
When bending with its weight;
And thus he bundles it in sheaves,(4)
Working long and late.
And then the grain he threshes thus,(5)And stores away to keep;And thus he stands contentedly(6)And views the plenteous heap.
And then the grain he threshes thus,(5)
And stores away to keep;
And thus he stands contentedly(6)
And views the plenteous heap.
1. Arms extended forward as though holding a plow. 2. A motion as of taking seed out of a bag or basket, and scattering with the right hand. 3. Motion as of cutting with a scythe. 4. Arms curved and extended forward. 5. Hands as though grasping a flail. Strike with some force. 6. Erect position arms folded, or hands on the hips.
1. Arms extended forward as though holding a plow. 2. A motion as of taking seed out of a bag or basket, and scattering with the right hand. 3. Motion as of cutting with a scythe. 4. Arms curved and extended forward. 5. Hands as though grasping a flail. Strike with some force. 6. Erect position arms folded, or hands on the hips.
The birds gave a picnic, the morning was fine,They all came in couples, to chat and to dine;Miss Robin, Miss Wren and the two Misses Jay,Were dressed in a manner decidedly gay.And Bluebird, who looks like a handful of sky,Dropped in with her spouse as the morning wore by;The yellow-birds, too, wee bundles of sun,With brave chickadees, came along to the fun.Miss Phœbe was there, in her prim suit of brown;In fact, all the birds in the fair leafy town.The neighbors, of course, were politely invited;Not even the ants and the crickets were slighted.The grasshoppers came, some in gray, some in green,And covered with dust, hardly fit to be seen:Miss Miller flew in, with her gown white as milk;And Lady Bug flourished a new crimson silk.The bees turned out lively, the young and the old,And proud as could be, in their spencers of gold.But Miss Caterpillar, how funny of her,She hurried along in her mantle of fur.There were big bugs in plenty, and gnats great and small—A very hard matter to mention them all.And what did they do? Why, they sported and sang,Till all the green wood with their melody rang.Whoe’er gave a picnic so grand and so gay?They hadn’t a shower, I’m happy to say.And when the sun fell, like a cherry-ripe red,The fire-flies lighted them all home to bed.
The birds gave a picnic, the morning was fine,They all came in couples, to chat and to dine;Miss Robin, Miss Wren and the two Misses Jay,Were dressed in a manner decidedly gay.And Bluebird, who looks like a handful of sky,Dropped in with her spouse as the morning wore by;The yellow-birds, too, wee bundles of sun,With brave chickadees, came along to the fun.Miss Phœbe was there, in her prim suit of brown;In fact, all the birds in the fair leafy town.The neighbors, of course, were politely invited;Not even the ants and the crickets were slighted.The grasshoppers came, some in gray, some in green,And covered with dust, hardly fit to be seen:Miss Miller flew in, with her gown white as milk;And Lady Bug flourished a new crimson silk.The bees turned out lively, the young and the old,And proud as could be, in their spencers of gold.But Miss Caterpillar, how funny of her,She hurried along in her mantle of fur.There were big bugs in plenty, and gnats great and small—A very hard matter to mention them all.And what did they do? Why, they sported and sang,Till all the green wood with their melody rang.Whoe’er gave a picnic so grand and so gay?They hadn’t a shower, I’m happy to say.And when the sun fell, like a cherry-ripe red,The fire-flies lighted them all home to bed.
The birds gave a picnic, the morning was fine,They all came in couples, to chat and to dine;Miss Robin, Miss Wren and the two Misses Jay,Were dressed in a manner decidedly gay.
The birds gave a picnic, the morning was fine,
They all came in couples, to chat and to dine;
Miss Robin, Miss Wren and the two Misses Jay,
Were dressed in a manner decidedly gay.
And Bluebird, who looks like a handful of sky,Dropped in with her spouse as the morning wore by;The yellow-birds, too, wee bundles of sun,With brave chickadees, came along to the fun.
And Bluebird, who looks like a handful of sky,
Dropped in with her spouse as the morning wore by;
The yellow-birds, too, wee bundles of sun,
With brave chickadees, came along to the fun.
Miss Phœbe was there, in her prim suit of brown;In fact, all the birds in the fair leafy town.The neighbors, of course, were politely invited;Not even the ants and the crickets were slighted.
Miss Phœbe was there, in her prim suit of brown;
In fact, all the birds in the fair leafy town.
The neighbors, of course, were politely invited;
Not even the ants and the crickets were slighted.
The grasshoppers came, some in gray, some in green,And covered with dust, hardly fit to be seen:Miss Miller flew in, with her gown white as milk;And Lady Bug flourished a new crimson silk.
The grasshoppers came, some in gray, some in green,
And covered with dust, hardly fit to be seen:
Miss Miller flew in, with her gown white as milk;
And Lady Bug flourished a new crimson silk.
The bees turned out lively, the young and the old,And proud as could be, in their spencers of gold.But Miss Caterpillar, how funny of her,She hurried along in her mantle of fur.
The bees turned out lively, the young and the old,
And proud as could be, in their spencers of gold.
But Miss Caterpillar, how funny of her,
She hurried along in her mantle of fur.
There were big bugs in plenty, and gnats great and small—A very hard matter to mention them all.And what did they do? Why, they sported and sang,Till all the green wood with their melody rang.
There were big bugs in plenty, and gnats great and small—
A very hard matter to mention them all.
And what did they do? Why, they sported and sang,
Till all the green wood with their melody rang.
Whoe’er gave a picnic so grand and so gay?They hadn’t a shower, I’m happy to say.And when the sun fell, like a cherry-ripe red,The fire-flies lighted them all home to bed.
Whoe’er gave a picnic so grand and so gay?
They hadn’t a shower, I’m happy to say.
And when the sun fell, like a cherry-ripe red,
The fire-flies lighted them all home to bed.
For a boy eight or ten years old.
I have a pretty little dog, he’s just about so high,(1)And sometimes you would think he knew as much as you(2)or I;(3)When e’er a letter I would write, he jumps around in glee,(4)For then he knows that he can take it to the mail for me,(5)I hold a stick out in my hands,(6)o’er it he jumps in joy—He shoulders(7)arms as soberly as any soldier boy—He jumps on table, box(8)or chair, which e’er I tell him to.I think he is the smartest dog—now, really do not you?My little dog will sit up straight(9)and open wide his eyes,And hold his pretty paws just so,(10)and look so very wise.If e’er to him I crossly speak(11)I very soon regret,And just as soon my little dog my anger will forget.He says bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow,No word but this alone,And yet he is the smartest dog that ever I have known.
I have a pretty little dog, he’s just about so high,(1)And sometimes you would think he knew as much as you(2)or I;(3)When e’er a letter I would write, he jumps around in glee,(4)For then he knows that he can take it to the mail for me,(5)I hold a stick out in my hands,(6)o’er it he jumps in joy—He shoulders(7)arms as soberly as any soldier boy—He jumps on table, box(8)or chair, which e’er I tell him to.I think he is the smartest dog—now, really do not you?My little dog will sit up straight(9)and open wide his eyes,And hold his pretty paws just so,(10)and look so very wise.If e’er to him I crossly speak(11)I very soon regret,And just as soon my little dog my anger will forget.He says bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow,No word but this alone,And yet he is the smartest dog that ever I have known.
I have a pretty little dog, he’s just about so high,(1)And sometimes you would think he knew as much as you(2)or I;(3)When e’er a letter I would write, he jumps around in glee,(4)For then he knows that he can take it to the mail for me,(5)
I have a pretty little dog, he’s just about so high,(1)
And sometimes you would think he knew as much as you(2)or I;(3)
When e’er a letter I would write, he jumps around in glee,(4)
For then he knows that he can take it to the mail for me,(5)
I hold a stick out in my hands,(6)o’er it he jumps in joy—He shoulders(7)arms as soberly as any soldier boy—He jumps on table, box(8)or chair, which e’er I tell him to.I think he is the smartest dog—now, really do not you?
I hold a stick out in my hands,(6)o’er it he jumps in joy—
He shoulders(7)arms as soberly as any soldier boy—
He jumps on table, box(8)or chair, which e’er I tell him to.
I think he is the smartest dog—now, really do not you?
My little dog will sit up straight(9)and open wide his eyes,And hold his pretty paws just so,(10)and look so very wise.If e’er to him I crossly speak(11)I very soon regret,And just as soon my little dog my anger will forget.
My little dog will sit up straight(9)and open wide his eyes,
And hold his pretty paws just so,(10)and look so very wise.
If e’er to him I crossly speak(11)I very soon regret,
And just as soon my little dog my anger will forget.
He says bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow,No word but this alone,And yet he is the smartest dog that ever I have known.
He says bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow,
No word but this alone,
And yet he is the smartest dog that ever I have known.
At place marked 1 hold right hand out, palm downwards, as if measuring height. At place marked 2, point to audience. At 3, the reciter points to himself. At 4, downward motion of hand. At 5, point to right. At 6, hold out both hands, as if holding stick. At 7, double up right arm, with hand in front of shoulder. At 8, point to left. At 9, hold head up very straight. At 10, cross hands on breast. At 11, hold out right hand, with finger pointed, as if in command.
ADDRESSED TO THE BOYS OF AMERICA.
A judgeship is vacant, the ermine awaitsThe shoulder of youth, brave, honest and true,Some one will be standing by fame’s open gates,I wonder, my boys, will it be one of you?The president’s chair of a great railroad maze,Is empty to-day, for death claimed his due,The directors are choosing a man for his place,I wonder, my boys—Will it be one of you?A pulpit is waiting for some one to fill,Of eloquent men there are only a few,The man who can fill it must have power to thrill;The best will be chosen—Will it be one of you?The great men about us will pass to their rest,The places be filled by the boys who pursueThe search for the highest, the noblest—the best,I wonder who’ll fill them; I hope ’twill be you.
A judgeship is vacant, the ermine awaitsThe shoulder of youth, brave, honest and true,Some one will be standing by fame’s open gates,I wonder, my boys, will it be one of you?The president’s chair of a great railroad maze,Is empty to-day, for death claimed his due,The directors are choosing a man for his place,I wonder, my boys—Will it be one of you?A pulpit is waiting for some one to fill,Of eloquent men there are only a few,The man who can fill it must have power to thrill;The best will be chosen—Will it be one of you?The great men about us will pass to their rest,The places be filled by the boys who pursueThe search for the highest, the noblest—the best,I wonder who’ll fill them; I hope ’twill be you.
A judgeship is vacant, the ermine awaitsThe shoulder of youth, brave, honest and true,Some one will be standing by fame’s open gates,I wonder, my boys, will it be one of you?
A judgeship is vacant, the ermine awaits
The shoulder of youth, brave, honest and true,
Some one will be standing by fame’s open gates,
I wonder, my boys, will it be one of you?
The president’s chair of a great railroad maze,Is empty to-day, for death claimed his due,The directors are choosing a man for his place,I wonder, my boys—Will it be one of you?
The president’s chair of a great railroad maze,
Is empty to-day, for death claimed his due,
The directors are choosing a man for his place,
I wonder, my boys—Will it be one of you?
A pulpit is waiting for some one to fill,Of eloquent men there are only a few,The man who can fill it must have power to thrill;The best will be chosen—Will it be one of you?
A pulpit is waiting for some one to fill,
Of eloquent men there are only a few,
The man who can fill it must have power to thrill;
The best will be chosen—Will it be one of you?
The great men about us will pass to their rest,The places be filled by the boys who pursueThe search for the highest, the noblest—the best,I wonder who’ll fill them; I hope ’twill be you.
The great men about us will pass to their rest,
The places be filled by the boys who pursue
The search for the highest, the noblest—the best,
I wonder who’ll fill them; I hope ’twill be you.
A motion exercise for six little girls.
Some little leaves one autumn dayFrom maple(1)branches high,Looked down(2)upon the lovely worldAnd upward(3)at the sky;Then each one sighed, “Had I(4)but wings,(5)Away, away I’d fly.”At last the wind(6)aweary grewOf hearing them complain,He(7)shook the sturdy maple boughsWith all his might and main;He shook(8)the little leaflets all,And down(9)they fell like rain.They huddled(10)close in little heapsTo keep all snug and warm,When Nature(11)came, a tender nurse,With bed(12)clothes on her arm;She tucked(13)them ’neath soft snowy foldsAnd hid(14)them from the storm.
Some little leaves one autumn dayFrom maple(1)branches high,Looked down(2)upon the lovely worldAnd upward(3)at the sky;Then each one sighed, “Had I(4)but wings,(5)Away, away I’d fly.”At last the wind(6)aweary grewOf hearing them complain,He(7)shook the sturdy maple boughsWith all his might and main;He shook(8)the little leaflets all,And down(9)they fell like rain.They huddled(10)close in little heapsTo keep all snug and warm,When Nature(11)came, a tender nurse,With bed(12)clothes on her arm;She tucked(13)them ’neath soft snowy foldsAnd hid(14)them from the storm.
Some little leaves one autumn dayFrom maple(1)branches high,Looked down(2)upon the lovely worldAnd upward(3)at the sky;Then each one sighed, “Had I(4)but wings,(5)Away, away I’d fly.”
Some little leaves one autumn day
From maple(1)branches high,
Looked down(2)upon the lovely world
And upward(3)at the sky;
Then each one sighed, “Had I(4)but wings,
(5)Away, away I’d fly.”
At last the wind(6)aweary grewOf hearing them complain,He(7)shook the sturdy maple boughsWith all his might and main;He shook(8)the little leaflets all,And down(9)they fell like rain.
At last the wind(6)aweary grew
Of hearing them complain,
He(7)shook the sturdy maple boughs
With all his might and main;
He shook(8)the little leaflets all,
And down(9)they fell like rain.
They huddled(10)close in little heapsTo keep all snug and warm,When Nature(11)came, a tender nurse,With bed(12)clothes on her arm;She tucked(13)them ’neath soft snowy foldsAnd hid(14)them from the storm.
They huddled(10)close in little heaps
To keep all snug and warm,
When Nature(11)came, a tender nurse,
With bed(12)clothes on her arm;
She tucked(13)them ’neath soft snowy folds
And hid(14)them from the storm.
1. Motion upward with right hand. 2. Look downward. 3. Look upward. 4. Wave hands back and forth. 5. Extend right arm. 6. Close eyes, faces expressive of weariness. 7. Double the hands up, moving them quickly backwards and forwards. 8. Same as 7. 9. Move hands downward. 10. Put palms of hands together. 11. Look toward right. 12. Extend right arm, looking at same. 13. Downward motion with right hand. 14. Motion toward the north.
1. Motion upward with right hand. 2. Look downward. 3. Look upward. 4. Wave hands back and forth. 5. Extend right arm. 6. Close eyes, faces expressive of weariness. 7. Double the hands up, moving them quickly backwards and forwards. 8. Same as 7. 9. Move hands downward. 10. Put palms of hands together. 11. Look toward right. 12. Extend right arm, looking at same. 13. Downward motion with right hand. 14. Motion toward the north.
Marches and drills by the little folks are always very attractive and entertaining. The preparation for these benefits young people by requiring them to move the body quickly and gracefully, assuming an erect attitude, then other positions at the word of command. Such exercises also aid in forming a habit of strict attention.
The Broom Drill is one of the most entertaining, and can readily be learned. It should be practiced until it can be performed promptly and without any mistakes. Twelve or sixteen girls—in fact, any even number, according to the size of the stage—may take part in it.
All should be dressed alike, in blouse waist of Turkey red chintz, sleeves and collar trimmed with white braid; skirt made of white cheese cloth, trimmed above the hem with band of red chintz, four or five inches wide; a red cap completes the costume.
During the marching there should be music, and the notes of the piano should be struck sharply. Any good march will answer for the music. The following exercises conform very nearly to the “Manual of Arms” used in the army. The cuts will be found very serviceable in showing the different positions.
Standing in rank near the front side of the stage, the teacher gives the command to “present arms,” “carry arms,” “trail arms,” etc. Each command consists of two words: the first is to indicate what the pupil is to do, and on the second word the movement is made, all acting in concert.
The following exercises are suitable for this drill, and always prove very entertaining to the audience.
Carry—Arms!—The broom is held in the right hand, handle upward, with the hand clasping the handle where it joins the brush. The left hand hangs at the side. (Fig. 1.)
Fig. 1.
Fig. 1.
Present—Arms!—Place the broom with the right hand in front of the centre of the body, clasping the handle with the left hand abovethe right. Hold the broom perfectly perpendicular. (Fig. 2.)
Fig. 2.
Fig. 2.
Order—Arms!—Let go the handle with the left hand, and carry the broom to the side with the right hand; then drop the broom to the floor. (Fig. 3.)
Fig. 3.
Fig. 3.
In place—Rest!—Grasp the handle with both hands, the left above the right, and place both hands in front of the lower part of the breast. (Fig. 4.)
Fig. 4.
Fig. 4.
Trail—Arms!—Grasp the handle with the right hand and incline it forward, the broom behind, resting on the floor. (Fig. 5.)
Fig. 5.
Fig. 5.
Attention—Charge!—Half face to the right, carrying the heel six inches to the rear and three inches to the right of the left, turning the toes of both feet slightly inward; at the same time drop the stick into the left hand, elbow against the body, point of stick at the height of the chin; right hand grasping the stick just above the brush and supporting it firmly against the right hip. (Fig. 6.)
Fig. 6.
Fig. 6.
Port—Arms!—Raise and throw the broom diagonally across the body; grasp it smartly with both hands, the right, palm down at the base of the stick; the left, palm up, thumb clasping stick; handle sloping to the left and crossing opposite the middle of left shoulder; right forearm horizontal; forearms and handle near the body. (Fig. 7.)
Fig. 7.
Fig. 7.
Secure—Arms!—Advance the broom slightly with the right hand, turn the handle to the front with the left hand. At the same time change the position of the right hand, placing it further up the handle, drop the handle to the front, placing the broom where joined with the handle, under the right arm. (Fig. 8.)
Fig. 8.
Fig. 8.
Reverse—Arms!—Lift the broom vertically with the right hand, clasp the stick with the left hand; then, with the right hand grasp the handle near the brush. Reverse the broom, the handle dropping to the front, the broom passing between the breast and right forearm. Press the handle under the arm with the left hand until the right elbow can hold it in place against the body; pass left hand behind the back and clasp the stick. (Fig. 9.)
Fig. 9.
Fig. 9.
Inspection—Arms!—This is executed from the “carry arms” position. Lift the broom quickly with the right hand, bringing it in front of the centre of the body; then grasp the handle with the left hand, placed near the chin, and hold it. (Fig. 10.)
Fig. 10.
Fig. 10.
These can be executed only with open ranks, the pupils being placed seven or eight feet apart. To so place them, the teacher will give the order—
Right (or Left) open Ranks—March!—The pupils face to the right or left, according to the order given, except the one at the extreme end of the line. The others march, the last of the file halting at every four or five steps from the one in the rear, until all are the same distance apart. They then face front. To close the rank, turn to the right or left and march toward the pupil standing at the end until halted by the one ahead. Then face front.
Attention—Guard!—At the commandguard, half face to the right, carry back and place the right foot about twice its length to the rear and nearly the same distance to the right, the feet at little less than a right angle, the right toe pointing squarely to the right, both knees bent slightly, weight of the body held equally on both legs; at the same time throw the end of the stick to the front, at the height of the chin, grasping it lightly with both hands, the right just above the brush, the left a few inches higher; the right hand in line with the left hip and both arms held free from the body and without constraint. (Fig. 11.)
Being at the Guard—Advance!—Move the left foot quickly forward, twice its length; follow with the right foot the same distance.
Fig. 11.
Fig. 11.
Retire!—Move the right foot quickly to the rear, twice its length; follow with the left foot the same distance.
Front—Pass!—Advance the right foot quickly, fifteen inches in front of the left, keeping right toe squarely to the right; advance the left foot to its relative position in front.
Rear—Pass!—Carry the left foot quickly fifteen inches to the rear of the right; place the right foot in its relative position in rear, keeping the right toe squarely to the right.
Right—Volt!—Face to the right, turning on the ball of the left foot, at the same timecarry the right foot quickly to its position in rear.
Left—Volt!—Face to the left, turning on the ball of the left foot, at the same time carry the right foot quickly to its position in rear.
Right rear and left rear voltsare similarly executed, facing about on the ball of the left foot.
Quarte—Parry!—Hold the broom in front of the left shoulder with the right hand, handle upward, the fingers of the left hand on the handle, the left elbow touching the right wrist. (Fig. 12.)
Fig. 12.
Fig. 12.
Seconde—Parry!—Move the point of the broom-handle quickly to the left, describing a semi-circle from left to right, the left elbow in front of the body, the flat of the broom under the right forearm, the right elbow two or three inches higher than the right shoulder. (Fig. 13.)
Fig. 13.
Fig. 13.
Prime—Parry.—Carry the broom to theleft, covering the left shoulder, the handle downward, the left forearm behind the handle, the right arm in front of and above the eyes. (Fig. 14.)
Fig. 14.
Fig. 14.
To Thrust in Tierce.—Straighten the right leg, extend both arms, keeping point of handle at height of the breast, broom at right side of head. (Fig. 15.)
Fig. 15.
Fig. 15.
Thrust in Quarte.—The same as tierce, but with the broom on the left side of the head.
The lunges are the same as the thrusts, except that the left foot is extended farther in front. (Fig. 16.)
Fig. 16.
Fig. 16.
Broom to Front—One!—Raise handle nearly straight up and down, drop it into the hollow of the right shoulder.—Two!—Strike quickly by pushing the broom forward, the handle always resting on the right shoulder. (Fig. 17.)
Fig. 17.
Fig. 17.
Right Short—Thrust!—One!—Hold the broom with the right hand to the rear, left hand by the right breast, the point of the handle opposite the centre of the body.—Two!—Thrust forward. (Fig. 18.)
Fig. 18.
Fig. 18.
High Prime—Parry!—Raise the broomwith both hands in front of and higher than the head. Hold the handle firmly with the right hand, the broom being to the right; turn the knuckles of the left hand to the front, and let other end of broom handle rest on the thumb and forefinger. (Fig. 19.)
Fig. 19.
Fig. 19.
To Guard when Kneeling.—Bring the toe of the left foot square in front, plant the right foot to the rear, kneel on the right knee, bending the left, hold the broom at an angle of 45 degrees, pointing directly to the front, the right hand pressed firmly against the side, the left hand holding the point of handle upward. (Fig. 20.)