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Tht Practical Trcainitrtt of' 



And a Trcalite on 

The Cultivation of the Voice 






• • ; • ' 
•• ••' ," 

• * • • 

« • 


» • 

• • • 



[Ali rishis restrvedS 







THIS book is the result of the labors of two teachers, 
specialists in their respective departments, who 
have been working for years in different branches of 
the subject of human speech. One of the writers has 
been occupied for many years in the stttdy of all forms 
of speech defects and in effecting their cure; the 
other has devoted his special attention to the higher 
cultivation and development of voices considered nor- 
mal for the purposes of speech. 

In bringing together the ideas of independent in- 
vestigators there is the danger that there may not 
always be complete harmony either in theory or in 
methods; but it is believed that this danger has been 
largely avoided in the present volume, for the reason 
that for a number of years the writers have been co- 
laborers and have had every opportunity for a free 
interchange of ideas; while each has worked inde- 
pendently in his own field, yet there has been such 
a close association that the ideas of one have always 
been at the disposal of the other. 

It will be granted that nothing is more vitally im- 
portant to man than speech, and, if this be true, then 
the most effective speech possible becomes desirable. 
The writers have found through a long course of 
special work that there are in this country several 


hundred thousand (probably one-quarter of a million) 
persons with abnormal speech. By this we mean not 
those lesser defects such as lisping and stumbling, but 
real impediments to utterance such as stuttering and 
stammering. Then, too, we have observed that there 
is a woeful lack of knowledge on the part of the 
public generally of the fundamental principles of 
proper voice production. Public speakers are con- 
stantly offending the ear by vocal expressions out of 
harmony with the sentiment and in violation of the 
principles of physiology and acoustics. The conver- 
sational voice receives little attention, and multitudes 
go through life with unpleasant or hampered utter- 
ance which might be remedied by a little intelligent 
thought and care. 

Therefore this book, in attempting to treat of vocal 
utterance, assumes a two-fold aspect — negative and 
positive. It treats in the first part of those defects 
of speech that are actual impediments, and in the 
second part, of the cultivation of the ordinary voice 
with a view to greater ease and effectiveness. 

Its aim is practical and suggestive rather than tech- 
nical. Much that is usually included in books of this 
kind is omitted; some things for the reason that it 
seems to us they are not sound, and many things be- 
cause they cannot be made intelligible in print — re- 
quiring the living teacher. 

From the nature of the subjects treated it will be 
observed that, in certain instances, in order to render 
each part complete, both writers have considered the 


■flll'l^ . 



z b:c< 

pr - "K 


to til 


Prsfack iii 

Introductory 15 

Mental and Vocal Unity 18 

Definitions - 33 

Stammering and Stuttering 36 

Difference -- 36 

Susceptible Dispositions 28 

Classification 31 

Historical Treatment 50 

Causes of Stammering 55 

Stammering a Mental Difficulty 58 

Characteristics 63 

Stammering the Result of Many Causes 68 

Heredity 76 

Effect of Stammering -'---81 

Irritating Causes -.- 84 

Statistical Record 86 

Table of Statistics 91 

Treatment of Those Beginning to Stammer - - - - 95 

Discipline — Mental, Moral, Physical 100 

Method of Treatment ----- 10^ 

Moral Influences Beneficial 107 

Stimxtlants — Exercise 114 

Exercises 133 

MeTHODS-OF-ATTACK -.-....-.---- 130 




Method-of*Attack for Closed Consonaitts .... 134 

Exercises 139 

From Darkness to Light 139 

A Stammerer's Crime 140 

A Parable 143 

Method-of-Attack for Continuous Sounds - - - - 144 

Exercises 151 

Stuttering Joe 151 

The Broken Seal 154 

Method-of-Attack for Vowels 155 

Exercises 159 

The Stutterers' Affliction 160 

Womanly Conversation 161 

The Tongue -- i6a 

The Stammering Boy 162 

Practice Necessary 164 


The Cultivation of the Voice 167 

Introductory 169 

The Origin of the Voice 176 

The Use of Terms i8a 

Qualities of Sounds 185 

Effort 190 

Breathing 198 

Breathing Exercises 309 

Vocal Exercises aia 

Gymnastic Exercises for the Tongue 314 

The Attack of a Tone 315 

Harmony 318 



Tone Meanings 219 

Kinds of Voice -.--..... 228 

Enunciation 235 

The Voice in Expression -- 339 

Inflection 342 

Pitch and Time 350 

Force 253 

The Voice in Public Address 255 

The Care of Children's Voices 260 

Music 261 

Singing and Speaking in Public 263 

Changing Voice 264 

Malformed Vocal Organs 265 

Voice and Action ----.-- 266 

Articulation and Pronunciation -------- 273 

Table of Sounds - 277 


Selections for Practice 289 

The Stutterer's Complaint 290 

The Angel's Request 293 

The Old Oaken Bucket 295 

The Last Hymn 296 

The Moneyless Man 298 

CouF^ Ye Disconsolate 299 

Curfew Must Not Ring To-night 300 

The Village Blacksmith 303 

When the Frost Is on the Punkin 304 

The Old Arm-Chair 306 

If We Knew 307 

The Patriot's Password 308 

The Deserted Village -- 311 

x contents 

Battle-Hymn of thk Repubuc ---.-...- ^m 

The Last Days of Herculanel'u --- 333 

Rock of Aces, Cleft foe Me --.- 337 

Rock Ml to Sleep jaS 

A Royal Princess 339 

The Statie in Clay 333 

Apostkqphe to the Ocean --.--.-.--. 33^ 

Out to Old Aunt Mary's 336 

The Lancvace of Flowers 337 

The Burial of Moses ^^g 

Break, Break, Bkeak -340 

Platonic Love - 3^1 


Mabvland 343 

Tke BuRNiNU OF Chicago -,., 3^ 

The Lake of the Dismal Swamp - 34S 

The Spanish Bull-Fight 349 

Rl.[r,NATK,N 35, 

The Raven 353 

*Who Can Judge a Man from Manners?" ... - 3^7 

Bay Billy .-... 359 

Up-Hill 36a 

SoHSBODv's Darling .• 3^ 

The Bore 364 

The Stak-Spangled Banner ....---... 366 

The Barefoot Boy 367 

Oh! Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud? - 370 
The Death of Maruion --......■-. 373 

The Harp That Once through Tara's Halls - - - 373 

Memories .-.,..-..., 373 

The Bells -.....,.. 376 

Home. Sweet Home .....-.-....- 378 

The Destruction of Sennacherib - . - 379 

Elrgv Written in a Country Churchyard - - - - 380 

Don't Take It to Hrart 384 

There Is No Death 385 

Gold - 386 

A Psalm of Life 387 




The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers 388 

I'm Growing Old --. 389 

The Way of the World 391 

There Is No Rest 392 

The Reward 393 

Paul before King Agrippa 394 

The Cataract of Lodore 397 

Pictures of Memory 398 

Tact and Talent 400 

Supposed Speech of John Adams on the Declaration 

OF Independence 403 

Matthew XXV. 405 

The Return of Rip Van Winkle -- 409 




FROii the time of the earliest recorded events, 
thTxjugh all subsequent periods, stamnieriiig 
has been common. Doubtless to certain persons it 
has always been a subject for amusement, but the 
afBicted one has ever failed to appreciate the humor. 
It has been generous in its attacks, extending its 
malignant inSuence to persons of all ranks and con- 
ditions. The poor have not escaped and the rich 
have failed to buy immunity. It has trammeled the 
tongue of peasant, and fastened its grip on that of 
kings and statesmen, Moses, the great lawgiver, 
suffered from fettered speech, consequently his 
brother Aaron became his mouthpiece. .(Esop, 
Virgil, and Demosthenes were likewise afflicted. 
The last named determined to eradicate the trouble, 
and worked with considerable ingenuity and great 
persistency to that end. He is one of the earliest 
recorded examples of a complete cure. Several of 
the kings of France stuttered badly. They pos- 
sessed this advantage, however, that no one used 
their affliction as a subject for mirth in their pres- 
ence. The painter, David, and Charles Lamb were 
similarly afflicted. No wonder that these turned 
their brains and talents into expressive channels 
where the tongue was not required. The great au- 
thor and humorist found only misery in his attempts 
to speak and never overcame the difficulty. 



Canon Kingsley, held in such high esteem 
throughout England and widely known in many 
other coimtries, stammered badly. Fortunately, he 
put himself in the hands of a capable teacher and 
overcame the trouble. Among his writings are 
several papers on the subject, in which he gives 
some good advice coupled with a few absurdities. 
This great author and preacher owed his cure to 
reasonable treatment, to much practice, and to his 
persistent determination. 

These are the names of a few of the great men in 
history that have suffered from this affliction, while 
thousands less eminent have struggled with it for a 
lifetime without any clear notion as to its origin or 
proper treatment. It would seem that it increases 
in proportion to the development of the race. The 
reason appears to be in the nervous strain incident 
to civilization. It is also true that a nervous, excit- 
able people furnish the greatest number of such 
cases. There are said to be but few cases among 
the native Africans, or the American Indians. It 
is estimated that France has the largest proportion- 
ate number, while China has the smallest. A stolid, 
fatalistic people would be little affected. Besides, 
the nature of the language spoken is an element to 
be considered. 

Among Europeans and Americans the average 
cases of stuttering and stammering reach from 
three to five per thousand. Probably the latter is 
the truer estimate. This excludes minor defects of 
speech, such as lisping, stumbling, and the blurring 
of certain sounds. Thus it may be estimated that 
there are in the United States from three hundred 


thousand to half a million cases ; and yet there has 
been but little attention given these unfortunates. 
They have so far received no state aid, and the 
philanthropists as yet — like the priest and the 
Levite in the parable — have passed by on the other 
side. Surely the reason is not that the afiSiction is 
not sufficiently severe, nor that the number of the 
afflicted is not sufficiently large. 

Defective speech is more prevalent among men 
than women, the reason probably being that a 
greater proportion of the former have the nervous 
strain of business, and are more often brought into 
trying relations of Ufe. The constant burdens, and 
the wear and tear of life, undoubtedly help to pro- 
duce the effect. 

Stammering and stuttering usually develop be- 
tween the ages of four and six years, and rarely 
after the age of ten. At times trouble develops 
with the first attempts at speech; but strictly speak- 
ing this is rarely, if ever, either stammering or stut- 
tering, but hesitancy or stumbling, which, however, 
may develop into either. 

In most cases where there is either stammering or 
stuttering there is no malformation of the organs 
of speech. In five thousand cases investigated by 
the writers there was found but one case where 
there was any real defect in the organs of speech, 
which suggests that elocutionary and physical, not 
surgical, treatment is the proper remedy. 


IN THE beginning of our work it will be well to 
consider the machinery of speech and deter- 
mine the general requirements of good vocal deliv- 
ery. Attempts have been made to remedy speech 
defects by surgery, by an application of psycholog- 
ical principles, by elocutionary exercises, and by the 
use of mere tricks. The result has usually been a 
failure; but various investigators, working along 
different lines, have arrived at conclusions which 
often contain a partial truth. We shall attempt to 
gather up these fragments and to present them 
adapted and modified by our own experience. The 
person seeking relief from the thraldom of imper- 
fect utterance needs all the assistance that psychol- 
ogy, physiolog}'', and elocution can offer, and it is 
only along these broader lines that he may hope for 
any certainty of cure. 

It is imperative that the student should under- 
stand the whole process by which articulate speech 
becomes possible, and, therefore, in simple language 
we shall trace it step by step from the psychical 
down through the physical nature. First, there is 
the soul of man — not physical, not brain, but an in- 
tangible, incomprehensible something which is the 
ego. It has its seat in the body of man and, as far 
as human experience is concerned, it requires the 
body to give it expression. Science has demon- 


strated that the center and source of our thought 
and action is in the brain. A part oE the bodjr may 
be injured without seriously affecting other parts 
and without impairing the mental faculties. But 
when the brain is injured in any manner the mind 
is impaired and some part of the body refuses to 
perform its functions; a bone pressing on the brain, 
or an effusion of blood there, interferes with normal 
mental action and results in partial paralysis of 
some part of the body. There are centers which 
control the actions of the arms and legs, others 
which preside over memory, and still others which 
control speech. It is with the Utter that we have 
to deal. Here we select certain words to express 
the thought in the mind and put into operation 
those nervous processes which control the compli- 
cated mechanism of speech. In other words, these 
nerves control muscular action, and upon proper 
muscular manipulation good speech depends. There- 
fore, in considering speech defects we must study 
the expression of thought, from its mental inception 
to its vocal expression. These, then, must act in 
perfect harmony — mind, brain, nerves, and mus- 
cles. With the lungs filled the first action in speech 
is a contracting of the walls of the chest, which by 
reason of decreased capacity expels a quantity of air. 
This air passes upward through the bronchial tubes 
into the bronchi, into the trachea (windpipe), and 
on through the larynx. This latter is a funnel- 
shaped opening at the top of the trachea; on its in- 
side are two bands or ligaments which, when we are 
uttering a vocal sound, are stretched across the 
passage. The escaping air strikes these and a sound 


is produced. This sound, after leaving the larynx, 
divides into two streams, one passing through the 
nose and the other through the mouth. After 
escape they reunite. So far we have vowels only. 
Now if we force a stream of air through, without 
the action of the vocal bands, we hear only escaping 
breath. This sound may be modified by different 
positions of the organs of the mouth, and the re- 
sults are consonants. Under the head of the vocal 
organs, then, we may include in their order (i) the 
muscles of the chest and abdomen, controlling the 
escape of breath ; (2) the bronchi, bronchial tubes 
and windpipe, including the larynx and vocal bands ; 

(3) the cavities of the mouth, nose, and head, and 

(4) the palate, tongue, teeth, and lips. 

Perfect normality, ease and harmony are the 
necessary conditions in good speech; and rational 
treatment suggests that the diflSculty in the individ- 
ual should be located at the point where it actually 
occurs, and that the efforts of the teacher and pupil 
should be centered at that point. 

Let us first consider the defects that are due to 
improper mental action. In good speaking we must 
determine clearly what we wish to say and select 
certain words to express our thought. But we do 
not always know what we wish to say, and the 
reasons are various. At times the mind is so active 
that a dozen ideas are engendered ere we can ex- 
press one ; the result is a rush of words followed by 
vocal hesitancy from sheer embarrassment at the 
task imposed. The remedy for this is to think 
deeper and less rapidly. Center the mind, rather, 
on expressing one fine, well-considered idea clothed 


in exact and choice language. We have in mind a 
young man who always stammers when much inter- 
ested. He was impressed with the idea that it was 
hereditary, as it was also his father's defect. How- 
ever, it was only a mental trait in which he 
resembled his parent. Both were intellectnal store- 
houses. They were widely read and were mentally 
keen, and on most topics had a hundred ideas they 
were eager to express. The young man, under the 
treatment mentioned above, overcame the difficulty 
the moment he was told how to do it. Frequently 
persons stammer under excitement, diffidence, or 
embarrassment. This is purely a fault of a mental 
nature, and the remedy should be sought there. 
Under these conditions, ideas that could be formed 
and expressed clearly in private are now confused. 
The original idea may be swallowed up in several 
conflicting thoughts, as, * I wonder whether I seem 
nervous? I am afraid I do not appear properly; I 
hope I shall not do or say the inappropriate thing.* 
It will be seen that the vocal organs may not prop- 
erly perform their functions by sole reason of mental 
embarrassment. Indeed, most persons will stam- 
mer under great excitement or mental confusion. 

It will be seen, therefore, that the prime requisite 
is self-command under all circumstances. One 
must compel himself to think clearly and deliber- 
ately; he must determine not to be confused. It is 
his first duty to keep his temper, to calm his nerves, 
to act and think with deliberation. It is at this 
point that the will becomes an important factor, and 
he who would overcome defects of speech must culti- 
vate an iron determination, unflagging zeal, and be 



guided by common-sense principles. With these 
the average person suffering from stammering may 
look forward to the time when he shall be disen- 
thralled from its bondage. 


jy/I ANY writers have made no distinction between 
* '^ * stammering and stuttering, but have classed 
all forms of defective utterance under the former 
heading, while others recognize both, and present 
their theories and suggestions accordingly. Pro- 
fessor Bell groups these vocal defects under three 
headings, speech-hesitation, stammering, and stut- 
tering. But in general, from the most remote 
periods, two forms of speech-hesitation have been 
recognized: stammering and stuttering. And in 
order that the opinions of different writers on the 
subject may be compared, we append a few defini- 
tions : — 


The inability of articulating a 
certain letter. — Aristotle, 

An affection of the vocal or- 
gans, causing a hesitancy and a 
difficulty of utterance. 

^Chambers^s Encyclopedia, 


The inability of joining one 
syllable to another. — Idem, 

A loose and imperfect action 
of the organs of articulation, as 
distinguished from the irregular- 
ity of breathing and convulsive 
choking S3rmptoms which invari- 
ably accompany stammering. 





HakiliK inyoliintaiT Mop* in 
qttering ijUkblei oi words ; to 
hesitate or falter in speaking j to 
tpeak with ttopt Mid difficulty; 
lottntter. — Wiiittr't Dietiimary. 

Utterance chuactenxed by a 
chokinc seiuation and an im- 
peded action of the vocal appara- 
tus. -^ O. PaOtr, M. D. 

Inability to pronounce, or diffi- 
cnltyin pronouncing, certain vocal 
sounds. -^Abioa Smith, M. D. 

A lock-jaw bind of easping. 
The {[lotcis and the action of the 
vocal cords appear to be para- 
lyzed so they cannot be brought 
into the position requited for a 
vocal sound. — F. Hdmert. 

The inability to pronoonce the 
letters properly. 

—Prof. A. Ktussmmd. 

Restricted by lotne phy^l- 
o|[ists to defective tpeech, doe to 
inability to form the proper 
•ounda, the breath being normal 
ai distingviihed from stammering. 

A chronic spasm of the artic- 
ulating oitwu, chancterized by 
the repeated utterance of one • 
sound before the organs can pass 
to the combination of movement* 
e neiL — litm. 

The frequent repetition of cer- 
tain sounds with more or less con- 
tortion of the facial musclea. 


A species of hesitation which 
shows itself in the rapid and fre- 
quent repetition of the explosive 

A temporary spasmodic inabil- 
ity to vocalize certain sounds, 
especially the eiplosive conso- 
nants. —Idem. 

Emil Behnke makes the following comparative 
distinctions: — 

Staumbkikg Stuttikinc 

I* associated with the delivery 
of consonants, especially the ei- 
plosives and sibilants. 

A. Involves defects in delivery Is experienced in articulation 

of individual letters, and the fault of. words or syllables, but each 

is detected on attempt to repeat the separate letter of the alphabet can 

■K letter* of the alphaliet be correctly tnundaud. 




5. Is more frequently due to 
defective physical formation in 
the pharjmx and fauces, palate, or 
tongue, or to enlarged tonsils, 
varying the shape of the articulat- 
ing cavity. 

4. Is unassociated with other 
faulty muscular movements. 

5. Is much less frequently due 
to want of nerve control, inde- 
pendently of volition, as proved 
from the foregoing and by the 
absence of engorgement of the 
vessels of the face and neck. 

6. Is improved in the presence 
of a teacher, and by care and 
effort of will on the part of the 

7. Is betrajred in singing, dec- 
lamation, and measured talking 
(Klencke), to this we are only 
half inclined to agree. 

8. Is equally noticed in all 
variations of the vocal scale. 


Is generally due rather to 
spasmodic muscular contraction, 
and seldom to objective defects 
of the organs of speech and artic- 

Is frequently associated with 
irregular and spasmodic move- 
ments of other muscles of coor- 
dination of the face and limbs. 

Is accompanied by much en- 
goiigement of the face and neck, 
.indicating a temporary paralysis 
of the nervous (vasomotor or sym- 
pathetic) control of the circulatory 
system, which is indei>endent of 
volition. Columbat*s definition 
applies well here: << Disharmony 
between volition and organic 
movement. i> 

Is generally rendered much 
worse by observation, and by any- 
thing that makes the subject 
think of his defect ; thus, hearing 
another person stutter will often 
induce an attack of stuttering in 
one who previously was speaking 

Is seldom betrayed ; but, on 
the contrary, may be cured in 
rhythmical delivery, as in low, 
measured declamation smd sing- 

Is absent in whispering low 
tones, monotones, and often in 
continuous reading, and becomes 
apparent only on use of loud 
voice, or in conversational speech^ 



STAmOKIKS.— A halting defective i 
TOlontaiy npid repetition of ■ Mmnd or lyllable. 

—ImttmaiiMuU DitHanarji. 

Stakhbung OS Stuttkking.~A tpumodic aSectioD of ttaeor- 
Z*os of ipeech in which the BTticnlstion of wordi it luddcnly checked 
and A pause eiuuet, often followed in rapid seqoence of the paitlcular 
loaodt at whicl) the itappage occnned. 

— BrUmmica Enejclep<dia. 

Faltkk, Stakmkr, Stuttss. — He who falten, weaken*, or 
break! more or leis completeiy in atteiance. Tlte act ii occasional, 
not habitual, and for reaMiu that *ie primarily moral belong to the 
occasion and majr be Tarioui. He who itanuneia ha* p'eat difficulty in 
uttering anything, the act may be habitual or occasionaL The cause Is 
confiuion, ihyocts, timidity, or actual feu, the mult it broken and 
articulate sounds that seem Co stick in the mouth, and sometimes com- 
plete suppression of voice. 

He who stutten makea sounds that are not what he desires to make; 
the act is aJmott always habitual, especially in its worse forms. The 
cause is often eacitement ; the result is a quick repetition of some one 
sound that ia initial in a word that the person desires to utter, as c-c-c-c- 
caEch. — Tin Ctnlury Dirtiaitary and Cyelep€dia. 

A defect in utterance due to 
an abnormal mental or emotional 
condition, which results in the in- 
ability at times to articulate, or to 
control the orsans of speech, 
which under such ciraunttancc* 
become tightly closed and are 
held tosether; and when there is 
utterance, frequently one sound is 
substituted for another. — Learn. 

A defect in ipcech arising from 
improper respiration and Tocoli* 
sation, oftentimes resulting in 
spasmodic action of the vocal or- 
gans and in the rapid repetition 
of a word, syllable, or sound be- 
fore another can be uttered. 



STAMMERING is usually employed to designate all 
forms of repetition of sound and hesitancy in 
utterance. Many authors make no distinction be- 
tween stammering and stuttering, even when at- 
tempting to treat of speech defects scientifically, 
some using the terms interchangeably. But the 
most careful investigators, and especially those who 
have devoted their time to the cure of these defects, 
have reached the conclusion that while there are 
various forms of speech hesitancy, yet in general 
there are two types, differing in general conditions 
and requiring different treatment for their eradica- 

Certainly in no case is the difficulty due to organic 
defect; and it is, therefore, a subject with which the 
surgeon has nothing to do, and the physician is only 
at times a useful assistant. In almost all cases it 
has been conclusively shown that the organs from 
brain to lips are normally formed, and that the only 
thing lacking is their proper control ; consequently, 
where surgeons have attempted to cure by the use 
of the knife they have invariably failed. Of course 
there is frequently malformation of the various 
parts comprising the vocal organs, which results in 
indistinct or some other kind of faulty utterance, 
and surgery may do a noble work in such cases. 



But Stammering is a very different trouble and 
arises from other causes. 

But, indeed, medical treatment as a means of 
correction has been practically abandoned, for while 
doctors have written learned treatises on the sub- 
ject they have failed to produce beneficial results 
as far as the cure of stammering is concerned. It 
is a fact which cannot be denied that stammerers, 
in everything save speech, are average persons. 
Their minds are not deformed, there is no brain nor 
nervous trouble (excepting as stammering makes 
one nervous); they are as healthy as the average 
person, and the vocal organs are usually well 
formed. In short, the whole instrument is properly 
formed and adjusted. The only thing lacking is 
the ability to manipulate it. This ability may never 
have been acquired, or it may have been acquired 
and lost. 

That the difficulty is functional and that surgery 
cannot aid the sufferer are conclusively shown by 
the fact that most of these persons can speak prop- 
erly at times, when they are alone or with those in 
whose presence they feel no embarrassment or 
diffidence. If they can recite in unison with others, 
or if they can sing under any circumstances, it is 
conclusive proof that their vocal organs are properly 
formed ; and all that teachers, science, or medicine 
can do is to help them to secure that further con- 
trol which will enable them to do, at all times, that 
which they have the ability to do occasionally. 
There are, it is true, persons who will ever find it 
difficult to control the vocal organs under certain 
circumstances; but these are few in number, ar ' 


have grown so through an absolute lack of confi- 
dence in their vocal powers through years of strug- 
gle and failure. Let us draw a parallel which will 
exactly explain the condition. A timid, easily em- 
barrassed child has been taught to play the piano 
with considerable ease. When it is alone there is 
no dijficulty in expressing its full knowledge of 
music; but when it is suddenly asked to perform be- 
fore a large audience it makes mistakes and discords, 
and may even forget its technique entirely. One 
never grows stronger by constant trial and constant 
defeat, and the only way to cure stammering and 
stuttering is to convince the pupil that there is 
every probability that the affliction can be over- 
come, and to prescribe those exercises that are 
comparatively easy and which lead back to the 
normal condition. With these ideas in view the 
pupil is now ready to consider the real differences 
between stammering and stuttering, and by so doing 
he may be able to determine the nature of his own 
difficulty and possibly the means necessary to over- 
come it. 


The disposition susceptible to the development of 
stammering is frequently inherited, and, in a sense, 
has its origin in the mind. Stammering is often 
due to a lack of confidence, which increases as one 
failure after another occurs in the endeavor to speak 
and which serve only to increase the hesitation of 
the sufferer. Stuttering, on the other hand, is due 
to nervous weakness, and shows itself in improper 


respiration, speaking from empty lungs, and in a 
repetition of syllables. The stammerer, in endeav- 
oring to say good morning, may suddenly find his 
lips nervously twitching or held rigidly together 
and be unable to utter a sound, while the stutterer 
may utter the first sound and halt there, repeating 
it over and over till he is able to pass to the next as, 
g-g-g-good m-m-m-morning. When the stutterer has 
lost all confidence in his ability to articulate, and 
when constant nervous dread is experienced in the 
endeavor to speak, he becomes a stammerer. This 
frequently occurs. 

The stammerer is frequently unable to effect a 
beginning, or, if he does, when he reaches a sound 
difficult of utterance he stops altogether, utterly un- 
able to open his lips or to utter a sound. Under 
such conditions the stutterer goes right on repeating 
the difficult sound again and again until he falls 
over it, when he seizes the next syllable. The diffi- 
culty of the stammerer, we repeat, is largely mental, 
and may be explained in this way: that portion of 
the brain which originates thought says to that por- 
tion which presides over speech, " I wish the follow- 
ing sentiment uttered " ; but the latter, through 
repeated eflforts and discouragements, unnerved 
and afraid, say^, *I cannot do it.* The stammerer 
knows exactly what he wishes to say, but, fearful 
of his inability to express it, the organs of speech, 
while in a sense capable, will not respond. 

Stuttering is more noticeable than stammering, 
but the latter is the graver trouble, as, being deep 
seated, it makes a lasting impression on the meat 
nature of the sufferer. 


Some writers in considering the subject have used 
three terms in classification, rather than two, viz: 
speech-hesitation, stuttering and stammering — and 
in a sense this division is very suggestive. One 
who has not the best control over the organs of 
speech is timid in utterance ; he doubts his ability to 
speak easily, and thus his attention is directed to 
his speech, which is not a normal condition; there- 
fore he hesitates, sometimes at certain words, at 
other times at any word. Usually when the initial 
word has been uttered, or when he has gained a 
certain amount of confidence, his speech proceeds 
smoothly. This form of imperfect speech may be 
the beginning of worse faults. In stuttering one 
feels his inability to speak smoothly and easily. He 
knows that he can talk, but he knows also that the 
speech will be broken, jangling, and discordant. 
lie feels that he cannot do better, but he can speak 
in this faulty manner; therefore he continues to 
stutter. In stammering the mind is convinced that 
any utterance is impossible, and therefore the motor 
centers of speech are not commanded to perform the 
task, but simply requested to do that which it is felt 
they cannot perform. Thus all forms of defective 
speech may be traced to a mental or moral fault, or, 
perhaps we should say, to a lack of coordination be- 
tween the thought centers and the speech centers, 
or between these combined and the physical organ- 
ism. We observe also that the worst form of speech 
defect — stammering — is more deeply a mental 
fault, and therefore is the most difficult to correct. 

These definitions and distinctions are made, not 
with the desire to enter into any technical discus- 


sion, nor to present a new theory, but rather that 
the reader may be enabled to determine his own 
difficulty and its cause or causes, and to see more 
clearly the steps necessary to remove the impedi- 
ment — for it matters little to the afflicted one what 
theories are held by specialists unless their presen- 
tation is such as to help him in removing his own 
stumbling block. 


In considering the various phases of the subject, 
in order to properly group and classify the types 
considered, we shall treat of each kind in its order. 
It may be observed that stammering is used broadly 
to designate all forms of speech hesitancy, and in 
this general sense we shall employ it, since there is 
no other term that has the same generally accepted 
meaning. But when it comes to technical classifica- 
tion it will be used in its more restricted sense, 
stammering and stuttering representing the two 
chief divisions of the general subject. 

The stammerer hesitates, not because of physical 
weakness nor because of lack of nervous control, 
but through that condition of the mind which 
doubts its ability to command language. There- 
fore he usually comes to a complete stop, while the 
stutterer begins to speak but repeats the sound 
again and again. The latter usually breathes im- 
properly and shows an inability to form syllables 
and to connect syllables into words. Stuttering is 
usually accompanied by facial and bodily contor- 


tions also. The limbs frequently are convulsed and 
the sufferer may show his internal effort by snap- 
ping his fingers, stamping his feet, or by other 
violent and excited movements. 

The stammerer frequently can overcome his dif- 
ficulty, to a certain extent, by a strong effort of will, 
and at times may speak better when observed and 
under trying circumstances. There is usually no 
physical agitation manifested, no congestion of 
blood in the lungs and face, nor does he appear to 
be nervous. His speech simply stops. When he 
utters a sound he rarely repeats it, but his voice 
glides on to the next syllable and he proceeds until 
he meets another difficulty when, instead of stum- 
bling over it, he stops again. His difficulty may 
manifest itself in speaking or singing in concert, or 
under circumstances totally lacking in excitement. 
He has reached a stage when, intermittently or con- 
tinually, he has lost that mental control over speech 
which is necessary to its command. 

Stuttering, on the other hand, is more closely 
connected with a lack of nervous control, and any 
peculiar mental condition is not strongly manifest. 
The stutterer hesitates and repeats his sounds, espe- 
cially when he is observed. Fear and all forms of 
excitement cause him to become more violent, while 
he usually has periods when his speech is normal. 
He does not often have difficulty in measured dec- 
lamation nor in singing. He can repeat whole 
pages of poetry when the rhythm is pronounced, 
and many have no difficulty in offering prayer, even 
before a large congregation. His difficulty is shown 
in repeating a sound or a syllable again and again, 


in great agitation, in convnlsive action. The res- 
piration is labored, the face agitated and congested, 
and the head moves spasmodically; in fact the whole 
physical nature enters into the effort Usually he 
has little difficulty in forming the sounds, con- 
sonants or vowels separately, but becomes agitated 
when he attempts to join them into syllables or 
words. His trouble is evidently due to improper 
breathing and to a lack of co5rdination of the mus- 
cles controlling the vocal apparatus. 

In time the stutterer may become a stammerer, 
but the stammerer never becomes a stutterer, while, 
of course, one may both stutter and stammer. The 
law of development is as stated and the reason is that 
stammering is the more complicated difficulty and 
represents a state where the trouble has ceased to be 
physical and has become mental. While formerly 
the sufferer stumbled over sounds that were difficult, 
now he has reached that point where he is convinced 
of his inability to speak, and hence cannot compel 
the vocal organs, in certain cases, to make any effort. 

Again, one may suffer from both difficulties at the 
same time, but this marks a stage of evolution that 
is half way between the two, and in which the stut- 
terer is about to become a stammerer. He may 
never go any further, but the probability is that he 
wiU. Persons so affected usually show the difficul- 
ties inherent in the two types. The respiration is 
abnormal, sounds are rex>eated, accompanied with 
considerable agitation, while at certain points the 
Toice stops altogether, refusing to utter a sound. 
The mind has not yet lost its confidence in vocal 
ability to utter all sounds, but only certain sounds. 


The Stutterer has furnished a great deal of amuse- 
ment to certain of his fellow-men. There are per- 
sons who enjoy his agitation and his peculiar 
utterance, just as cruel and wicked boys enjoy 
tormenting their deformed playmates; but the stam- 
merer, whose affliction is worse, meets with no 
ridicule, simply because he does not utter broken 
sounds, for when he experiences any difficulty he 
does not speak at all. Because the former makes 
his difficulty so apparent it is usually presumed that 
it is more difficult to cure. 

Speaking further, with reference to stammering, 
stuttering, and speech-hesitation, we may consider 
all of these various types as stages of development 
which usually arise in the following order: — 

(i) Imperfect articulation and stumbling. 

(2) Hesitancy in pronouncing certain sounds and a dispo- 
sition to avoid them. 

(3) Repetition of certain sounds before one can pass to 
the next, coupled with faulty breathing. 

(4) Inability in certain instances to make a sotmd, the vo- 
cal organs being rigidly held together. 

Imperfect articulation and stumbling is probably 
the first observable symptom of stuttering, and in 
fact is of such a mild order that few persons would 
regard it with any degree of alarm. It is at this 
stage, however, that attention is necessary, for if 
taken in time it can be overcome entirely without 
institutional treatment or professional attention. 
Stammering also usually commences in this manner. 
It is probably due to ignorance of the awful results 
consequent on carelessness that many cases are not 
arrested at an earlier stage. Children thus afflicted 


are usually encouraged to stammer, are laughed at, 
and in truth are made to stammer; whereas in many 
cases if unnoticed or carefully corrected these early 
symptoms would probably disappear without further 
attention. Grown persons sometimes develop pecul- 
iar forms of hesitancy and stumbling which could 
be readily corrected with a little care and practice. 

Hesitancy in pronouncing certain sounds and a dis- 
position to avoid them is a more pronounced evi- 
dence of stuttering. Persons thus inclined should 
be most careful, as at this stage the habit is easily 

We have known of several cases where, apparently 
without cause or warning, the difficulty developed 
at once from this stage into real stuttering and 
stammering. Hesitation, however, is not stutter- 
ing any more than stuttering is stammering. How, 
then, shall we know, when we hesitate, that it is 
not stuttering; and how, when we stutter, shall we 
determine that it is not stammering? In fact, how 
shall we determine the type of our weakness ? 

Stuttering is the degree of hesitancy and stum- 
bling that renders the person thus afflicted unable by 
any exercise of his will power and reasoning faculty 
to control his fluency of utterance. Stammering is 
*ii aggravated form of stuttering. The latter is 
physical, while the former is mental. Hesitation 
with a disposition to avoid words is a serious condi- 
tion, and persons thus addicted should lose no time 
in seeking a remedy for such difficulty. At this 
early stage of the trouble much can be accom- 
plished at home by practice in talking slowly and 
deliberately, with daily exercise in breathing, 


plenty of physical exercise and good, wholesome 
diet, clean habits, and an abundance of rest and 

Repetition of certain sounds before one can pass to 
the next is indicative of stuttering, and is usually 
accompanied by faulty breathing. The faulty 
breathing is usually the result of the stuttering 
habit, however, and rarely if ever the cause. At all 
events, the two are associated, and so closely that it 
is difficult to state from study and observation 
whether the stuttering is resultant from the breath- 
ing habit or vice versa. This much we do know, 
however, that persons thus addicted are in a critical 
condition, as this stage is but a degree removed 
from stammering. 

So closely is stuttering allied to stammering that 
it is sometimes difficult to determine the degree of 
each in a single case. There are many cases where 
the habit is purely stuttering without much, if any, 
mental complication, and in such cases the difficulty 
is readily overcome. The exercise of carefulness 
as suggested in the preceding paragraph would be 
found highly beneficial in such cases. 

Stuttering is dangerous only in this, that it may 
develop into stammering, which, as already stated, 
is the more difficult and aggfravated type of the two. 
There are cases of stuttering that so remain, or that 
never develop into stammering, but such cases are 
very rare, since the larger number terminate in 
stammering, and sometimes in an aggravated and 
stubborn form. 

Hesitancy in pronouncing sounds is purely indic- 
ative of stuttering, but a tendency to avoid them or 


to use flynonyms is a symptom of the meatal tend- 
ency or of Btammering. It is a generally accepted 
theory among physicians and others that the earlier 
a habit or disease is checked the better for the pa- 
tient. This theory is especially applicable to the 
development of stuttering. By all means check, at 
the earUest possible stage, any hesitancy in pro- 
nouncing sounds, as in doing so yon can often pre- 
vent the appearance of the mental difBculty. Not 
only is this better for the patient, bnt also in thus 
acting the tendency of heredity is checked. The 
habits and contortions of the statterer are usually 
more pronounced than those of the stammerer, and 
for this reason also it is well to arrest the trouble at 
as early a stage as possible, inasmuch as the chances 
of others (in whom there is anatural inborn tendency 
to stammer) contracting the habit are greatly less- 
ened. In the treatment of a matter of this kind 
the writers consider it only right to thus caution 
those who are already sufferers from so terrible an 
affliction, against carelessly exposing the disease to 
others not thus afflicted, thus rendering the latter 
liable to contraction of the habit. 

Persons who stammer will fully realize what this 
means, as many owing to association have con- 
tracted the habit, which when once acquired is not 
easily shaken off. 

Inability in certain instances or under certain con- 
ditions to make a sound is an evidence of stammer- 
ing, in which case usually the organs of utterance 
are tightly held together. This condition is often a 
well-developed form of stuttering, which in turn, as 
already explained, ta resultant from hesitancy. Such 


being true should we not, then, guard with much 
vigilance our every utterance? 

Stammering is not always resultant from stutter- 
ing, as there are many persons who commence to 
stammer at the beginning and in whom no repe- 
tition of words or syllables or hesitancy is notice- 
able. Such cases are usually the result of heredity, 
as nearly always there will be found to exist in the 
same family others similarly af&icted. 

It may be said of stammering that it is silent, be- 
cause in its most severe form persons thus af&icted 
are unable to speak at all under certain conditions. 
There are not many such cases of stammering, how- 
ever, the majority of so-called stammerers being 
only partially thus afflicted; or, in other words, 
most persons considered stammerers are in real- 
ity addicted to both stuttering and stammering. 
Stammering is dangerous in that some such cases 
are most difficult to cure, it requiring the greatest 
skill on the part of the instructor and the closest 
application on the part of the sufferer in order 
to obtain complete liberation. Such cases, how- 
ever, are curable, and in some instances persons 
of this class of the worst type have entirely re- 

Stammering is manifested in the inability to 
produce sound. Persons thus afflicted are some- 
times wholly unable to raise their voice or to vocal- 
ize, much less utter a syllable. It is manifested 
often by muscular paralysis and by rigidity of the 
muscles of the body and face. There may be no 
other apparent indication of difficulty, in fact one 
unacquainted with the difficulty, or with the habits 


of the sufiEerer, would never detect that there was 
even an inward straggle. In cases of the most 
pronounced type the mental torture is almost un- 
endurable. Sometimes persons thus afflicted be- 
come addicted to convulsions — the result of great 
mental strain — and in several cases we know of, 
suicide and insanity have resulted. 

Persons addicted to genuine stammering can 
lessen the severity of their difficulty by home prac- 
tice and study, but the absolute eradication of the 
disease will require the personal attention of a com- 
petent tutor and rigid disciplinarian. 

If the suggestions contained in this work are care- 
fully followed no doubt much benefit will result, 
especially in cases of the milder forms of speech 
hesitancy, stuttering, combined stammering and 
stuttering, and probably also in cases of genuine 
stammering. It would be practically an impossibil- 
ity in a work of this kind to enter into a discussion 
of every type of speech-hesitation classified under 
the headings of stammering and stuttering, from 
the fact that there are as many different types for 
discussion as there are types of man, each bearing 
its own peculiarity and phenomenon according to 
the individual characteristics of persons thus af- 
flicted. There are, however, several important 
types well known to specialists experienced in the 
treatment of stammering, and for the sake of clear- 
ness we will refer to the different types by num- 
bers, at the same time offering suggestions that 
may benefit persons unfortunately thus afflicted. 
In order that the classification may not be confus- 
ing, we will designate each type separately according 


to number, and will endeavor as far as possible to 
make our meaninfj^ intelligible. 

No, I. — This is a type of stammering that for- 
tunately is rare, as it is very difficult to cure. In 
a sense it may be hereditary, though frequently it 
is the indirect result of disease or diseases, or it 
may be the result of a combination of causes: a 
naturally weak constitution, followed by fright or 
accident, resulting in disease, and finally into a 
depleted and undermined physical condition. The 
vital force in such cases is very low, and the mental 
and moral natures are afEected thereby. Under 
such conditions one becomes despondent. There is 
a natural lack of energy and of will power. Speech 
is not controlled because the effort cannot be put 
forth, and because the motor organs are in a state 
of lassitude. At times these persons suffer so 
much, from such nervous depletion, that the vari- 
ous parts of the body may be said to stammer. 
There is a trembling of the whole body and a sense 
of weakness when any action is attempted. In the 
treatment of such cases the assistance of a good 
physician may be of benefit. Not one who gives 
drugs copiously and indiscriminately; but rather 
one who understands that nature must do the work, 
and that it needs to be given every chance and all 
possible assistance. Real tonics, exercise suitable 
to the condition, proper diet, pleasant surroundings, 
absence of worry, and proper treatment of Uie 
vocal defect are likely to build up the system, re- 
store health, and cure the stammering. This type 
cannot be cured without improving at the same 
time the physical condition. 


No. 2, — The trouble is inherent in the person him- 
self and varies with his general physicfid condition. 
In other words, snch persons find that they are pre- 
disposed to stammer, bnt at times when in good 
health cmd their physical and nervous system in 
tone, when mentally they are cheerful and con- 
tented, the difficulty does not show itself. When the 
conditions change and the system becomes depleted, 
when they are nervous and depressed, when the 
mind becomes morbid or blue, their usual, mental, 
mond, and physical tone and force are lacking. 
This reaches a point where control of the vocal or- 
gans is lost. There are persons who will not stam- 
mer for a month or a year; but when the vital force 
ebbs to a certain point (or in other words, when 
they are • run down •) the disease asserts itself. 
Other persons have their bad days when they ex- 
perience great difficulty, and other periods when 
they are free from it. In most of these cases relief 
is close at hand and lies within the sufferer's own 
reach. Proper attention to exercise and diet, re- 
fraining from excesses and exciting influences, 
avoiding all stimulants and narcotics — in short, 
treating the system properly — will usually afford 
much relief. 

No, J, — While all forms of speech impediments 
are accompanied by nervousness, yet in most cases 
it is an effect rather than a cause. There are, un- 
doubtedly, cases where the difficulty arises directly 
from a lack of nervous control, and stammering or 
stuttering results. This, then, acts as an irritant 
and makes one more nervous ,- the result is a violent 
form. This is often constitutional, as certain chil- 



dren are nervous from an early age, and frequently 
the symptom grows with the years, especially when 
the surroundings and incidents of life tend to aggra- 
vate the tendency. This nervous strain is mani- 
fested in every movement. Every physical act is 
spasmodic, uncertain, irregular; in short, nervous. 
This broken and uncertain movement naturally 
shows itself in speech ; the result is a halting, spas- 
modic, irregular utterance. When the attention is 
directed to this, the difficulty naturally becomes 
more pronounced and thus speech-hesitation in some 
form results. This form, like type No. 2, varies 
more or less according to circumstances. It may be 
worse during certain kinds of weather, or at certain 
periods of the day. It changes, too, with the health 
or moral and mental condition of the sufferer. It 
resembles in some respects St. Vitus's dance, as it 
is usually accompanied with facial contortions and 
other convulsions. The sufferer is frequently irri- 
table and subject to great depression. The mind is 
usually active, fanciful, and somewhat erratic. The 
nervous system must be toned up and controlled. 
Discipline in proper utterance is a part of the treat- 
ment, for not only is this in itself beneficial, but it 
also assists in the acquirement of nervous control. 

No, 4., — This type is usually accompanied with an 
improper form of respiration. That there are other 
causes is undoubted ; probably improper breathing 
arises from the difficulty itself, rather than the con- 
verse. It is usually accompanied with the habit of 
speaking from nearly empty lungs, and in many 
cases the chest is flat, as only the upper portions are 
filled in inhalation. But it should be observed, too. 


that one may breathe properly for physical purposes 
and improperly for speech ; indeed, this is frequently 
the case. One may fill the lungs from top to bot- 
tom, and from center to circumference, in accom- 
plishing a physical task, but may begin to speak only 

' when the lungs are almost empty. No matter how 
much breath one takes in, under these circum- 
stances his utterance will be impaired. All forms 
of defective speech arising from improper respira- 
tion, where there is no physical defect, are most 
easily remedied. 

No. J, — This form arises usually from excessive 
intellectual activity, rather than from depth of 

' thought. There is also a failure of that constant 
exercise of control which is subject to judgment. 
Such persons are at times termed *over bright.* 
Frequently there are a dozen ideas engendered in 
the mind while the voice can express but one. 
There is an attempt to express them all ; the sen- 
tences become broken; words are only half uttered, 
which results in stumbling and confusion. Mean- 
while the mind is active, demanding expression, 
which results in worse confusion, and in time the 
person becomes convinced that he cannot speak 
without stammering, and hence he stammers. It 
is easy to point out a remedy, but for it to be per- 
manently effective one must form new mental 
habits. He must learn to think more exactly and 
less extensively, more profoundly and less copi- 
ously. He need in no sense curb his mental activity, 
but rather he must discipline and direct it. F^ 
must learn that one correct statement may sum 
a proposition, as well as a dozen of another w 


He can usually overcome his difficulty at once by 
forming his thoughts in definite statements before 
he tries to utter them. Such stammerers are usu- 
ally bright but not deep; keen but not profound; 
quick but not safe. 

No, 6, — Most forms of stammering are due in a 
measure to neglect. At some point in the progress 
of most cases it was possible, by a little effort, to 
dispossess oneself of the burden. Many cases would 
never have arisen without some abnormal exciting 
cause and encouragement. Some persons from their 
infancy are used to slovenly and half-articulate 
speech. They mumble and stumble and slur till 
their language is little more than the inarticulate 
cries of animals. This may be followed by hesita- 
tion, because the vocal organs, or rather their mus- 
cles, have become sluggish, clumsy and inactive. 
This hesitation gives them little concern until worse 
symptoms appear, as stuttering. Finally, when the 
defect has made its mental impression, the person 
evolves into a self-made stammerer. In such cases 
one must persistently unlearn his vocal processes 
and establish new ones. He must also form new 
and correct ideals of speech. 

No. 7. — A stammerer of this class is usually 
among the most sensitive of persons ; undoubtedly 
he is so naturally, and his annoyance over his afflic- 
tion makes him worse. To speak of the affliction is 
like discussing any other deformity or abnormality. 
He will frequently remain silent indefinitely rather 
than exhibit his defect. Because he is thus sensi- 
tive, perhaps, he stammers. His mind is constantly 
impressed with his inability, and hence he becomes 


unnerved and loses confidence in himself. A very 
sensitive child frequently develops stammering in 
school. The strain of competition, fear of ridicule, 
uns]rmpathetic conduct 00 the part of the pupils 
and teacher, perhaps a laclc of sympathy at home — 
all join in increasing his difficulty. 

No. 8. — This form difEers from the others in 
nothing save that the utterance is almost entirely 
through the nose rather than through the mouth 
and nose. It presents the same symptoms, and is 
due to the same causes as the ordinary type, with 
this exception. It may be observed that after the 
sound is made 10 the larynx in normal speech, it 
divides into two streams, one of which passes 
through the mouth and the other through the nose. 
These then reunite and reach the ear as one sound. 
When the stream is limited to the mouth or to the 
nose there is an unpleasant sound. Good utterance 
depends upon a proper blending of the two. 

No. p. — In persons addicted to this form of stam- 
mering there is no apparent effort, nor indication 
of an attempt, to speak. The sufferer simply stands 
dumb, not a muscle nor an eyelid moves. A sud- 
den question causes him to stand transfixed like a 
statue. At times he can speak readily, again not a 
sound escapes him and there is no apparent effort 
to speak. As such persons can usually speak with 
considerable freedom at times, under proper treat- 
ment they can be made to speak with ease under all 

No. 10. — Stammering of this type is frequently 
associated with stuttering. The speech of such a 
person is a startling conglomeration of sounds. It 


represents the chaos of speech. The speaker gasps 
for breath, tangles up his words, substitutes certain 
sounds for others, hesitates and rushes on. He 
sways back and forth, tosses his head, gurgles and 
hisses. He alternates from a loud to a low tone 
and contorts his facial muscles. In kind, if not 
in degree, this species is not by any means rare, 
but it usually yields very rapidly to proper treat- 

No, II, — Oue thus afflicted never speaks without 
stammering. In public and in private, sick or well, 
joyous or depressed — he stammers. He is con- 
sistent in his affliction and gives one the impression 
that stammering is a high duty, and that not for 
one moment must he relinquish his efforts to nobly 
perform it ; but he should excite our sympathy, for 
while his habit is firmly fixed yet never for a 
moment during speech can he forget it In this 
type no change of diet, climate, or excitement pro- 
duces any effect. There are no peculiar sounds 
or words that trouble him more than others. He 
has no preference — all words and combinations are 
the same to him. Vowels and consonants, words 
dreaded by others, and easy combinations are 
equally difficult. He is thoroughly impartial. In 
the treatment of such cases it has been found that 
with proper treatment the difficulty will disappear 
about as rapidly as that of persons suffering with 
the various other forms. 

No, 12, — Some persons who stammer are inclined 
to disbelieve, being naturally skeptical. They dis- 
believe in their ability to perform or execute certain 
acts, even as they doubt their ability to speak. 


Many of them are also disbelievers in the ability of 
others. They are naturally inclined to doubt, and 
it is sometimes amusing with what caution they are 
willing to be convinced. They regard everybody 
as an enemy until they have proved him a friend, 
and appear to think that others wish to take unfair 
advantage of them. Such persons among stammer- 
ers are usually difficult to cure without absolute 
conviction beforehand of the merits of the treat- 

No. ij. — It has been truthfully said that 'cheer- 
fulness makes the mind clear.* The reverse of this 
is manifested among persons who stammer and who 
are of a disagreeable nature. Stammerers who lack 
cheerfulness are usually whimsical and notional. 
They are ever complaining and are never satisfied. 
Their sorrows are greater than Job's sorrows and 
the expression of their countenance is repulsive and 
depressing. Many such cases are the result of long 
and continued battles with successive failures, and 
little wonder under such circumstances that their 
manner is changed. Mocked at every corner, 
laughed at and made light of by scores of unthink- 
ing scoffers, turned aside at every opportunity, os- 
tracized from society because of their infirmity, they 
finally grow revengeful in nature and soured in dis- 

No. 14. — Contrasted with the sorrowful stam- 
merer is the hopeful stammerer — of cheerful, sunny, 
buoyant disposition. Such are usually found among 
younger persons, as middle-aged and elderly per- 
sons addicted to stammering become settled and re- 
served through long and continued struggle and 


eflfort. Persons of cheerful disposition are, how- 
ever, more easily cured, as hopeftilness and a dispo* 
sition to cheerfulness enter into any treatment as a 
dominant factor in determining the cure. 

Probably the most desirable class of persons with 
which the specialist comes in contact is the class 
that is not only devoted to its own interests but also 
interested in the welfare of others. Such persons 
are always successful, as they invariably receive in 
return as much as they so cheerfully give. Their 
buoyancy of disposition and the earnestness of their 
manner is an encouraging influence everywhere, 
and it is sometimes surprising with what success 
such persons are rewarded. 

No, 75. — There are many persons who stumble 
in their utterance through sheer carelessness or 
neglect, and who with but little care and attention 
could talk fluently and with perfect freedom. Such 
persons usually slur their syllables and often talk in 
an incoherent manner. Carefulness and concen- 
trated attention to utterance for a time is all that is 
necessary in such cases to remedy the difficulty. 

In this manner we could go on and illustrate the 
peculiarities of many different classes or types 
among stammerers. We could then subdivide each 
class, illustrating individual eccentricities common 
to each person included in such division. This, 
however, is not necessary, as the object is only to 
point out that the manifestations differ according to 
the individual peculiarities or characteristics of per- 
sons thus afflicted. They all belong to the same 
family, the difference in type amounting only to 
differences in disposition and temperament. Much 


depends also npon the health or phjrsical condition 
of the sufferer, in that persons of robust health 
usually talk better than those who suffer physically. 
This, however, is not always the case, as we have 
known of persons of apparently robust health who 
stammer violently. It is true, however, that if per- 
sons of this class were to lose their health, their 
stammering would very much increase in violence. 

While there are said to be some forms of stam- 
mering that are incurable, yet such cases are very 
rare indeed, if the pupil will submit to the proper 
treatment and comply with the necessary condi- 
tions. Age has not much to do with the matter, 
unless it is very much advanced. When one has 
stammered through a long series of years he may 
have reached a point where the habit is so deeply 
seated that it is difficult to throw off. Besides, at 
this period the vital forces are on the ebb, and there 
is lacking that purpose and enthusiasm which are 
powerful factors in earlier life; hence there are 
cases which from age alone may be said to be in- 
curable. Generally speaking, persons younger than 
fifty years of age are fit subjects for treatment, and 
even at a later period in life most satisfactory 
results have been achieved. 

The only cases that are really hopeless are those 
where the stammerer is not willing to undergo the 
necessary treatment for a cure. Perhaps he persists 
in dissipation, refuses to be controlled and will not 
exercise his volitional powers. He eats as he 
pleases, keeps late hours, smokes and drinks. Un- 
der these conditions a cure cannot be effected, bat 
it is the sufferer's own fault 



Our conclusion, reached through years of experi- 
ence, is that where the stammerer will put himself 
in proper hands, submit to reasonable control, fol- 
low the prescribed exercises, and be content to g^ve 
a reasonable time to the work, every case of stam- 
mering can be cured. 


From the dawn of history to the present time this 
subject has engaged the attention of learned men 
and specialists and, undoubtedly, cures have been 
performed in all periods. In many cases, whatever 
the means employed, the real cause of the cure was 
the determination of the afflicted one to eradicate the 
fault. They, perhaps, have unwittingly added the 
great element of determination, which is necessary 
in all cases, and while many of the physical ex- 
ercises engaged in may not have been wise, yet his 
strong determination, a high moral purpose, and 
self-control have enabled the stammerer at times to 
surmount all obstacles. 

The earlier investigators considered the difficulty 
to be a local one, and of a purely physical nature. 
Some located it in the tongue, others in the muscles 
and nerves, and therefore directed their treatment 
to these parts. Hippocrates considered the difficulty 
due to troubles of the stomach and of the digestive 
tract. He wrote much about curing stammering by 
suppurating ulcers. Aristotle, speaking of vocal 
difficulties, as stammering and stuttering, says, *A11 

• • • 

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these arise from debility, for the tongue is not 
obedient to the will. ^ Galen thought that muscular 
debility, arising from cold and moisture of the 
brain, was responsible for the difficulty. 

Demosthenes is a striking example of the cure of 
defective utterance. The fact that be became a 
famous orator is not only proof of the value of 
proper treatment, but is suggestive also of what can 
be accomplished by proper discipline. According 
to Plutarch, he owed much, if not his cure, to 
Satyrus, a celebrated actor of that day; hence it may 
be inferred the method employed was elocutionary. 
The pebble in the mouth that is supposed by many 
to have effected the cure was, perhaps, really of no 
benefit, but the cure was obtained in spite of it. 
The work consisted in a series of breathing and 
vocal exercises. We all know the story of his de- 
claiming when running up hill, and of his drown- 
ing with the power of his voice the sound of the 
breakers of the ocean. Many stories have come to 
us of the various other bad habits and deformities 
he overcame, because of his purpose to become a 
great orator. This gives us a key to another ele- 
ment in the cure which was most necessary. He was 
a man of ambition, of iron will ; he could discipline 
himself, and he had the moral courage to face slav- 
ish and persistent labor and to forgo all pleasures 
that were deleterious. Hence his cure. We may 
remark that the means employed were the most nat- 
ural of all those recorded in ancient times, and were 
in one sense substantially those of modem times. 
To Satyrus, then, credit is due for the first attempt 
to cure stammering by elocutionary methods. 


From the dawn of the Christian era down to about 
the year 1700 the doctors were all at sea. The 
difficulty was ascribed to every possible physical de- 
fect, from brain lesions to a lack of control of the 
tongue. All sorts of remedies, surgical and med- 
ical, were applied, and elocutionary methods were 
lost sight of or discarded. Some of the parts to 
which the trouble has been attributed are: the 
brain, the tongue, the tonsils, and uvula. It has 
also been attributed to the brain and nerve lesions, 
irregular nervous action, spasm of the lips, spasm 
of the epiglottis, spasm of the glottis, spasm of the 
diaphragm, the hyoid bone, deranged coordination, 
etc. One could fill a volume with these opinions, 
most of which are worthless, and almost all of which 
have been discarded by the medical profession. 

It was left to the earlier part of the nineteenth 
century to form the most absurd diagnosis, and to 
perpetrate the most cruel treatment. Deffenbach 
in 1 84 1 began to treat speech defects by surgery 
and his ideas soon became popular, and prevailed 
for a time throughout the principal countries. The 
chief and favorite operation was to cut a wedge- 
shaped section out of the root of the tongue, under 
the impression that in some manner this would re- 
move the difficulty. There was a mania throughout 
Europe among specialists in this line, and blood- 
letting became popular. The result was that mearly 
all patients were maimed for life, a number died, 
and none were cured. Following this period the 
physicians and surgeons practically abandoned the 
matter, and those few who gave it any attention 
based their treatment on toning up the system of 


the patient and prescribing elocutionary exercise. 
This brings us to the time when those who at- 
tempted to treat stammering and other vocal defects 
operated along the lines of the modem methods, 
which will be fully explained in our later chapters. 
It may not be amiss to state, however, that the 
modem methods have gone back to the more an- 
cient ones, as exemplified in the cure of Demos- 
thenes. The middle ages have really given us 
nothing, save a knowledge of the pitfalls to be 

The whole history of the theories regarding stam- 
mering, down to the middle of this century, has 
only a negative value. Its teaching is largely in 
the direction of what should be avoided; but it has 
its value nevertheless, as it points to exploded the- 
ories and warns us against the charlatans of the 
present day. Thus the process of elimination has 
gone on till we have reached a point where there is 
little doubt as to the causes, and not many differ- 
ences of opinion as to the proper methods to apply 
in effecting a cure. 

How indefinite our knowledge would be if we be- 
lieved with Lord Bacon that the trouble was due 
to coldness and moisture, and in some cases dry- 
ness, of the tongue, and how vague would be any 
theory of treatment of the defect based on this 

Even as late as i860 we find much that was seri- 
ously considered that we now know to be absurd. 
So eminent an authority as Canon Kingsley, who 
stuttered badly and who was completely cured, ad- 
vises one to speak with a bit of cork between the 

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Itard, in 181 7, used golden and ivory forks placed 
in the cavity of the lower jaw to support the tongue. 
Detmold passed needles through the tongue, though 
how this was to eflEect a cure was never intelligently 

To sum up, then, we conclude, that in the earlier 
periods there were but few attempts at cures, and 
that in those cases where the diflSculties were over- 
come it was largely due to elocutionary exercises. 
That general bodily health or a moral purpose was 
concerned in the treatment, was evidently never 
considered. That during the subsequent centuries, 
down to about i860, all sorts of theories were bom 
and flourished. That surgery and medicine at- 
tempted to solve the problem and failed. That 
the diagnosis was wrong as was also the treatment. 
That during the last forty years we have reached 
conclusions that are unquestionably sound, since 
they are justified by the successful treatment of in- 
numerable cases, and that we may now say that 
stammering of whatever type may certainly be 


The causes of stammering are numerous and 
sometimes the trouble arises from a combination of 
them. There is no doubt that many cases are hered- 
itary. It may be so, although no known ancestor 
may have stammered. One may inherit moral 
traits which may easily lead to it, or he may have 
had transmitted to him a delicate nervous organism 


which, under certain conditions, renders him sus- 
ceptible. It has been shown that certain diseases 
may lie dormant in a family for one or two genera- 
tions only to appear in some unhappy descendant. 
Then, too, such diseases as scrofula may and likely 
will appear in unexpected places. It may be mani* 
fested in a twisted limb, facial distortions, or in the 
organs of speech, or may manifest itself in some 
nervous trouble which affects the organs of speech. 
This information, however, is of little practical 
value to the one actually afflicted, as he cannot con- 
trol his ancestry; neither is it likely to affect the 
lives of those who themselves may be ancestors. 
It is a well-known fact that our children pay fo»» 
our own follies and indiscretions, and, therefore^ 
we can only deal with our own cases as we find 
them. But this may be said, that in most casea 
when the evil is not serious it may be remedied. 
Many cases that result from conscious or uncon- 
scious imitation are supposed to be hereditary. A 
child that otherwise would be free from the trouble, 
by constant observation and suggestion will form 
the habit. 

The speech of stammering children is usually 
normal for a couple of years after commencing to 
talk and by proper treatment the disposition or 
tendency to stammer which they possess (due to 
heredity) may be neutralized, and stammering may 
thus never develop. Neither stammering nor stut^ 
tering can be inherited. When children of stam- 
mering parents manifest the same defect, it is 
usually the result and development of conscious or 
unconscious imitation. 


That which is inherited is simply a disposition 
favorable to the development of stammerings which 
tendency may be arrested and overcome by proper 
influences, or, under other conditions, if encouraged 
develops into real stammering. We inherit many 
mental and physical traits, the combination of 
which may result in peculiar physical action, which 
resembles that of some ancestor. We are predis- 
posed, not ordained, to do certain things. Diseases 
such as consumption we once thought were inher- 
ited, but now we know better. We may inherit a 
condition or conditions, which under certain circum- 
stances make us susceptible to the disease. 

The average stammerer is sensitive and nervous. 
It is probably due to this that many stammer. One 
who cares extremely for appearances, and who is 
supersensitive, never does the thing well which he 
desires so much to do. We have in mind a large 
summer assembly where an incident occurred which 
illustrates this. The president, in a spirit of fun, 
challenged the people to a walking contest on the 
stage in front of an audience, offering prizes and 
saying that few people know how to walk. When 
the contestants made the trial most of them found 
that, with their minds centered upon it, and the 
audience looking on, they could scarcely walk at all, 
and the rigid, uncertain movements were laughable. 

Many persons are sensitive and nervous, and 
from this cause they may develop the habit of stam- 
mering. A harsh word is like a blow, and gives 
them a shock. They are in nervous dread of ridi- 
cule from others, and this continued tension results 
in a ntnrouiy timid action, often accompanied by 



speech defect ; but this temperament, too, is subject 
to control and modification. One may compel him- 
self to be calm, to control his nervous activity, and 
in this way through repeated efforts will establish a 
habit of repose, which if not natural is yet second 

Solid, phlegmatic people rarely stammer, because 
they are eminently self-possessed under all condi- 
tions, and possess that confidence in their abilities 
which commands the vocal machinery. 


STAMMERING is Undoubtedly a mental disease, or, 
to express it differently, the difficulty is pri- 
marily mental. This idea has been combated very 
often, and the proper interpretation of the state- 
ment, as to its source, has not always been given. 
We do not say that the patient is not intelligent — 
indeed his mentality may be of a high order, but 
we do say that the reason for stammering exists in 
that part of the mind which dominates speech, and 
that there the remedy must be applied, directly and 
indirectly. Let us proceed to the proof. 

Few persons begin to stammer under the age of 
six or eight years. Up to that time their speech is 
normal, then slowly or suddenly they begin to stut- 
ter or stammer. Has this sudden change been a 
physical one ? No, the organs may all be healthy 
and normal. The child is not more nervous, saving 


perhaps as his speech difficulty makes him so. The 
change has taken place in the mind. He has dis- 
covered his inability to utter words properly, con- 
fidence is lost, and consequently there is a lack of 
control of the speech centers, and therefore of 

Again, most persons who suffer from speech- 
hesitation in any form have moments when they 
can speak well and without effort. Why does their 
physical condition change in the interval? Have 
the vocal organs become disordered or diseased? 
We answer that the change is due to fright or em- 
barrassment, or some other mental or emotional 

Again, why can the person sing alone or in con- 
cert? Why is he able to recite in unison with 
others, while at times he cannot utter a sound under 
embarrassing conditions? The reason is apparent, 
the vocal organs are capable of doing their duty, 
but lack that perfect control and function which 
comes from the brain centers. 

Some may argue that there are persons who can- 
not speak properly even when alone, that they can- 
not sing in concert; in brief, that there is never a 
moment when they are able to use their voice prop- 
erly. We reply that they have not always been so, 
and the cause is that, while formerly they were able 
to control the speech centers at times, through re- 
peated efforts and failures they have now lost all 
confidence in their ability, and hence cannot com- 
mand the motor mechanism necessary to speech. 
The organs are normal, and require only the master 
touch of the master mind to set them into action. 


There is a true story of a servant who at times lost 
complete control of her articulation and stammered. 
She was very devout and fully believed in the effi- 
cacy of prayer. Her mistress told her at such times 
to utter a prayer. The result was that her speech was 
almost suddenly restored. In other words, after 
this prayer she thought she could speak, and this 
complete confidence in her ability enabled her to do 
so. The difficulty was mental, and the cure was ap- 
plied to the source of the trouble. 

One may stammer in his thoughts, in his actions 
and, in a sense, in diflEerent parts of the body. The 
causes are due to some difficulty in coordination, or 
in the lack of harmonious action of the motor cen- 
ters of the brain. Many persons stammer in their 
work or play who, when they become thoroughly 
absorbed, will drop the impediment entirely. We 
have in mind a man who ordinarily stammers badly, 
and yet who is a fine public speaker. He shows his 
impediment in the first few sentences while he is 
self-conscious, but when once engrossed in his 
theme all hesitation disappears and he becomes a 
master of speech. The change is due entirely to a 
change in mentality. All human activity has its 
seat in the brain, and it is only when the physical 
organism is controlled from this center that any ac- 
tion is possible. Paralysis in the hands, limbs or 
vocal organs proceeds from the brain. An eflEusion 
of blood that interferes with normal mental activ- 
ity is the cause of various bodily aflEections. Indeed 
surgery has taken advantage of this knowledge. In 
many cases when certain parts of the body are af- 
fected, science is enabled thereby to locate the 


trouble at a definite spot in the brain. There have 
been cases when paralysis has shown itself in the 
hand or arm it has been attributed to bone pressure 
or a tumor, and from the locality of the manifesta- 
tion in the body it has been traced to a certain exact 
spot in the brain. In some instances a button of 
bone has been removed from the skull, only to find 
an apparently healthy surface beneath; but with 
the accuracy of science the probe has been fearlessly 
inserted, with the result that the tumor has been 
found and often the patient relieved. 

Therefore, we naturally set about to trace the 
difficulty of stammering to one of several probable 
sources. Are the vocal organs perfect or mal- 
formed? Since the master mind cannot play on a 
broken instrument, the answer usually must be, 
that these are normal. One should note that ordi- 
nary peculiarities of vocal structure are not hin- 
drances to a reasonable control of voice ; in other 
words, they do not cause stuttering or stammer- 
ing. A lisp is not due to improper structure of the 
organs but to their misuse. Nasality may be pro- 
duced by normal organs, and usually is a mere 
habit; at times there may be a nasal growth, which 
should be removed. Thickness of the tongue and 
heavy lips are not causes for stammering, although 
they may result in other unpleasant faults of utter- 
ance. In practically all cases of stammering and 
stuttering the vocalist or surgeon can pronounce 
the vocal organs normal in their construction. 

Is stammering due to a lack of muscular strength? 
This may be answered in the negative, since the 
muscular effort necessary to speak is a slight one. 


Even the dying man may use his voice. Besides, 
the various muscles of the mouth may be used nor- 
mally in many other ways. Upon consideration 
we must conclude that the difficulty does not lie 
here, since the muscles in themselves are dead and 
inactive until called into play by nervous force. 

Is the trouble primarily in the nerves? Here 
real difficulties in answering present themselves. 
The answer must be yes and no. We shall find 
that those functions that are nearest to the brain 
begin to present difficulties. The brain and the 
nervous system are so intimately related that any 
affection of one must impair some of the functions 
of the other. Nervous weakness means a lack of 
control of the muscles, and undoubtedly speech de- 
fects may come from this. But still we find that 
among stammerers and stutterers there is usually 
sufficient nervous control for all purposes other 
than speech; and when we remember that these 
nerves control the same organs that are used in 
speech, properly for all other purposes, we must 
conclude that speech defects are not usually due to 
nervousness — nervousness is more often the result 
of stammering, and rarely, if ever, the cause. 

Through this process of elimination we come back 
to our first proposition, that the center of difficulty 
is in the mind, not in the physical structure of the 
brain (for that is usually normal), but in the inabil- 
ity to control particular functions. We have stam- 
mered and we fear we shall do so again. This fear, 
then, amounts to a certainty, and hence we stam- 
mer, because we fiave stammered. Nervousness 
is a result of this condition rather than the cause, 


and nervousness is a hindrance to all normal bodily 
effort. An illustration may make this clear. Why 
could you not walk across Niagara Falls on a solidly 
fixed board four inches wide? You can walk any 
distance on a single board of the same width in a 
plank walk. Why do the knees tremble, and why 
is there a complete absence of nervous control? 
The reason is not to be found in the muscles, in 
the nerves, nor in the physical brain, but in the 
mind that loses all confidence and recoils at the 
dreadful consequences of failure, and is sure it will 

From the foregoing we may sum up, with consid- 
erable assurance, that the stammerer's difficulty 
results from repeated failure and consequent dis- 
couragement; that he has lost confidence in his 
vocal ability; that he dreads to make an effort, 
since it must result disastrously, and that, there- 
fore, he hesitates mentally before he does bodily. 
We conclude that stammering is due to a certain 
mental condition, but repeat that this mental condi- 
tion is in turn largely due to stammering. 


In a sense each person is a type and differs from 
all others of his race. There are resemblances, and 
these may be classified and gathered into groups, 
but there are no exact parallels. As no two faces 
are alike, so no two mental natures are the same. 
Consequently, when we come to consider the nature 
of the stammerer we find that all kinds of persons 


are victims of the habit. Some are sullen or mo- 
rose, while others are naturally bright and cheerful. 
Some are stolid and phlegmatic, others nervous and 
of a sanguine temperament; yet, nevertheless, we 
believe that the stammerer in general possesses a 
nature which is different in many particulars from 
that of his fellow-men. He is usually of a sanguine 
temperament, active and nervous. He is apt to be 
a sensitive person. His imagination is ever keen, 
and is apt to picture difficulties in advance. His 
whole mental and nervous nature are very much 
alive. He is usually impulsive and enthusiastic. 
He enters into everything eagerly but is likely to 
relinquish his purpose and become discouraged. 
He is full of ideas, usually bright ones, but he lacks 
the dogged purpose to put them into execution. He 
is likely to be whimsical and erratic. He is a hu- 
man thermometer, which varies in a sudden and 
uncertain manner. In general he may be said to 
be brighter than the average man but not as sound; 
keener but not so deep, and his failures in life are 
apt to be due to a lack of steady, concentrated effort 
in execution. These may not be the characteristics 
of each individual stammerer, but they apply to 
the class. 

The stammerer usually possesses a feeling of in- 
equality. He is bright, but nervous and timid. He 
is usually an impressionable individual. In a sense 
he is an egotist, in that his attention is largely cen- 
tered in himself, and frequently in a way that does 
not do him credit. He wishes to appear well, to 
say the proper thing, to make the best impression. 
He fears that he may fail, and has defeat constantly 


in his mind. It requires an effort of will to meet 
those of superior station, and in society he is self- 
conscious and diffident. He constantly avoids pre- 
senting any personal peculiarity, and if it once 
appear in his speech his attention is attracted to it, 
with the result that the impediment grows worse. 
Frequently he is so self-conscious that he cannot 
look another in the eye, especially if that person is 
a stranger or one of prominence or of superior rank 
in life. While usually very bright and intelligent, 
he tries to persuade himself that he is grotesque, 
and if once his peculiarity betrays itself in speech 
he is doomed, for that is to him tangible evidence of 
his inequality. We repeat, then, that the stam- 
merer* usually is self-conscious and that he is an 
egotist But we mean this in the sense that he is 
sensitive and timid, and that his judgments invaria- 
bly tend to self -depreciation. There are two kinds 
of egotists. One says, * Look at me and admire * ; 
the other says, * I know you are looking at me ; I 
hope I may appear properly (but I doubt it).* 
That this latter is his condition of mind may be 
seen from the fact that usually, in those relations 
where his personality is not prominent, or when he 
forgets himself, he has no difficulty in speech. This 
feeling, characteristic of the stammerer, is a species 
of moral cowardice. 

There are two kinds of men. One has an undue 
appreciation of his abilities and worth and thinks 
he is equal to any undertaking; the other is con- 
stantly depreciating his own efforts and shrinks 
from obtruding his personality. The former is 
rarely open to conviction, the latter will modify an 


Opinion or utterance almost before objection is maae. 
We have seen many students just on the verge of 
stuttering, and in whose minds the fear of failure 
or of being incorrect was ever uppermost. On cor- 
rection, suggestion, or criticism, they are too ready 
to apologize or change their opinions ; at times, even 
before the cause of the trouble has been really ex- 
plained. The other class are as immovable as rock 
and stubbornly defend everything remotely con- 
nected with themselves. They rarely stammer. 

Then there is another class between these two, 
f>., well-poised men, without excessive confidence, 
and yet who, on the other hand, have an apprecia- 
tion of their own worth or power; these, too, rarely 
stammer. Hence the conclusion may be drawn that, 
in a sense, the stammerer lacks, in some particulars, 
moral courage and moral stamina. He needs a 
severe course in self-discipline. He shrinks from 
contact with superiors, or those regarded as such. 
He fails to express and to maintain his just and nec- 
essary opinions. He allows himself to shrink from 
the performance of duties of a public nature. He 
may even, almost entirely, withdraw from society. 
Why? Because he is afraid, and seeks thus to es- 
cape humiliation. But let him understand that tim- 
idity is encouraged by avoiding responsibilities and 
by yielding to it; that determination is for him a 
valuable quality, which is developed only by its ex- 
ercise, and that he stammers because he is afraid. 

Stammering has been termed a lack of confidence, 
which is quite correct in the majority of instances. 
There are persons who stammer at but few periods 
of their lives, only in sudden fright or upon dis- 


oovery. Indeed, it is a common thing for dramatists 
to make their characters stammer under great ex- 
citement or surprise. The reason is apparent — 
control is suddenly lost and all confidence for the 
moment is gone. When it returns the stammering 
ceases. Then we say, with all positiveness, that 
right here tn this very lack of confidence is the cause 
of very much stammering and stuttering. Why we 
lack confidence is another matter. It is because of 
our natural temperament, because of mental and 
moral habits. A person who is predisposed to stam- 
mering and who acquires the habit of lying and con- 
cealment, will almost certainly develop this speech 
defect. From this we do not wish it to appear that 
all persons who stammer are prone to untruthful- 
ness, as it has been our experience that stammerers, 
generally speaking, are as truthful as persons not 
thus afflicted. The mind constantly fears detection, 
and is not secure and confident ; or, if one has habits 
he conceals, the constant thought that they may be 
observed or discovered results in a lack of confi- 
dence, which may in turn result in speech impedi- 
ment, especially when the discovery suddenly 
confronts him. The need is confidence, and we 
should thus form those habits which will satisfy our 
own minds and consciences. 


IT WILL be seen by the foregoing that stammering 
is the result of a certain mental or moral condi- 
tion, which manifests itself in a lack of confidence 
and is accompanied by insufficient will power to 
overcome the difficulty. Not, necessarily, that the 
stammerer has less will power than other men, but 
that he needs more to aid him to do those things 
from which he shrinks and which other men do 
without effort. 

We may consider this condition as a result, and 
still search for other causes. We shall find that they 
are many, which, singly or combined, will produce 
the undesirable result. We have diagnosed ten thou- 
sand cases of stammering and stuttering, searching 
carefully for their causes, and have corresponded 
with more than fifty thousand persons thus afflicted, 
and found that among the list there was but one case 
associated with any organic defect. This is virtually 
the experience of other competent investigators. 

The trouble may develop as the result of certain 
diseases, when the person is predisposed in that 
direction. Therefore, we may say that any disease 
which weakens the nervous control and results in 
a depleted condition of the system may assist 
in the development of stammering. Physical in- 
juries, sudden fright, brain trouble, scrofula — in 
short, anything which shocks the system or weakens 


tnd undermines it through the lapse of time tends 
to lower the physical and mental tone, and thus 
assists to develop stammering when the person is 
predisposed in that direction. There are persons 
who attribute the defect to some of these causes, 
and can point to a sudden fright or a disease which 
they claim as the origin of their trouble, but a simi- 
lar cause might not produce the same effect in 
others. That it did so in a particular case was be- 
cause the patient was in a condition where he was 
susceptible to stammering, and this sympathetic 
physical condition added the one element needed. 

Stammering is oftener simply a developed and 
confirmed habit, and is usually the result of years 
of neglect and improper influences. Most persons 
who stammer begin at an early age. The first diffi- 
culties are scarcely noticeable, and there is no effort 
put forth to eradicate the trouble. Just here a lit- 
tle intelligence and care on the part of parents and 
teachers would usually be sufficient to cause the 
trouble to entirely disappear. But the causes, from 
which the first difficulty arose, continue ; the trouble 
is constantly augmented; gradually the mental con- 
dition, that always accompanies the trouble, is de- 
veloped ; and lo ! the stammerer is made. Youth is 
the habit-making age, and in after life we do many 
things not because they are natural or reasonable, 
but because we have grown accustomed to doing 
them. Speech is one ot these ; no matter what lan- 
guage we use, it is because we have acquired it, 
and the same is true of stammering. At some time 
in our lives we have hesitated or stumbled in pro- 
nunciation or utterance ; after this we either forget 


the occurrence, or it makes us timid and causes us 
to lose confidence. If, then, the conditions are 
present whereby the difficulty is emphasized and 
encouraged, gradually the difficulty develops into 
a habit, until it seems to us more natural to stam- 
mer than not to do so. The remedy is to build 
up a new and correct habit and to undermine the 

All writers on the subject agree that imitation 
and association are fruitful sources of stammering, 
and it may be either conscious or unconscious. 
Our speech, like any other habit, is the result of 
temperament and education. We learn all we know 
from the world around us, and we represent in our- 
selves the sum total of all that we have seen, heard, 
and experienced, modified by our own natural, men- 
tal, or physical traits. This being granted, it will 
be seen how vast a force imitation is, and what a 
factor it is in determining speech. Children uncon- 
sciously imitate the words of others; it is their only 
way of learning the language. Now words, to the 
minds of children, are not mere abstract, printed 
symbols — they are tone-symbols, full of life and 
energy, and as far as the vocal, organs will permit 
they utter the words exactly as they hear them. 
Therefore, as a rule, we may be sure a person with 
a nervous, unpleasant, harsh voice has been as- 
sociated with those who speak in this manner. Of 
course temperament has something to do with it, 
but it is a minor factor. A great truth, which 
should be written where every member of the house- 
hold and every teacher may see it, is : * Tempera- 
ment is determined largely by the habits of speech 


which the child imitates and acquires. * Teachers 
have a great influence in shaping the speech (in- 
cluding all its elements) of children. The pupil 
spends a great part of his young life under the 
teacher's care. It is not a matter of theory, but of 
observation, that the pupils learn to imitate the 
voice and manners of the teacher. A teacher with 
a high, shrill, irritable utterance will soon have all 
the pupils talking in the same manner. Nervous 
speech results in nervous strain and manner, and 
under these conditions voices and mental habits are 
formed. Occasionally a teacher will be found who 
habitually speaks in a clear, mild voice, quietly and 
deliberately; and in time all the schoolroom work* 
will conform thereto. Much of the breakdown and 
the nervous strain of our children in the schools is 
not due so much to the task imposed, as to the con- 
stant competition with others, the nervous, irritable 
voices of teachers and pupils, and that deadly strain 
which prevents the careful performance of any task. 
Here speech defects arise and flourish, and many of 
our public schools might be termed ^ Institutes for 
teaching Stammering. * 

Along with the public school the home in too 
many instances may be classed as an institute for 
teaching stammering. There are households where 
a simple request or statement goes unheeded, unless 
it is emphasized by a loud voice and violent language. 
The standard has been set and must be maintained. 
We have heard of the crew of a ship who, when they 
lost their captain, refused to obey any orders from 
the new officer unaccompanied with horrible oaths. 
There are households where there is rarely a word 


Uttered mildly and pleasantly. Screaming women, 
growling men, irritable servants, keep the child's 
nerves on the jump and afiEect his voice directly and 
indirectly. The child tmconsciously imitates this 
manner of speaking, with the result that it is af- 
fected nervously, which again reacts on its speech. 
Method, order, time, and cheerfulness in the home 
and school would prevent many a bad case of stam- 

Many children acquire the habit through associa- 
tion with stammerers by unconsciously imitating 
them. As has been observed, the child learns its 
speech by copying the speech of others, and, there- 
fore, these speech defects enter into the process. 
Now, from it all, the most difficult and striking 
thing produces the greatest impression and the 
most lasting result. Little by little the utterance 
of the child becomes that of the stammerer, and, 
consequently, the same nervous action is super- 
induced until the stammerer stands complete from 
brain to lips. A stammerer in the household is to 
be dreaded like a contagious disease. Its germs will 
insidiously affect all those who are open to attack. 
Parents having young children, who employ a nurse 
or other servant who stammers, are doing a danger- 
ous — almost a criminal — thing. Of course, when 
there is a member of the family with a speech 
defect the matter is more difficult; but then the 
combined intelligent efforts of the other members 
may do much. A good teacher may assist, and the 
importance of the cure should not be measured by 
the needs of the afflicted one only, but also by thus 
removing the danger to the other children. 


Con^ioQS imitation is another most potent cause 
of stammering. Frequently speech deformities are 
regarded as subjects for mirth. There are many 
persons who delight in deformities of all kinds. It 
is this spirit which makes freaks, bearded ladies, 
living skeletons, dwarfs, and other monstrosities 
popular. Children are very curious about things 
that are not normal, and hence a stammerer offers 
a rare opportunity for their speculation. It is re- 
garded as amusing, because it is not usual. They 
try to make the same sounds and grimaces as the 
persons unfortunately afflicted, and any degree of 
success evokes peals of laughter. Many are thus 
creating their own punisliment, and in after years 
will become the subjects of the jests of others. He 
who imitates that which is not correct usually pays 
the penalty, and the truth of this applies in this in- 
stance with peculiar force. Is the stammerer, then, 
to be ostracized because of his misfortune? We 
can only answer by saying that we may greatly love 
our friend who has smallpox, but common sense de- 
mands that we should not put ourselves in a posi- 
tion where we are liable to contract the disease. It 
may be said, for the benefit of those who are not 
sufficiently impressed by the dangers of imitating 
speech defects, that the books are filled with cases 
that have so resulted. Teachers of elocution and 
teachers for the cure of stammering have observed 
that a great number of their cases arise in this man- 
ner, and there are others where readers and actors, 
in representing stammering voices, have become so 
affected themselves that their ordinary speech ever 
after has been a most excellent imitation. We have 


in mind the case of a young man who, although six- 
teen years of age, contracted the habit of stammer- 
ing (and of a most violent form) by imitating the 
contortions of an actor who was amusing his audi- 
ence by imitating the habits of a stutterer. Such 
cases are not infrequent happenings. 

Stammering from mimicry is a very common oc- 
currence, but the cause may incorrectly be attrib- 
uted to other sources, as fright, disease, or heredity. 
It is established that one-fourth of all those who 
stammer owe their difficulty to this source. Gener- 
ally the first symptoms are not those of stammering, 
but of some lesser evil, such as stuttering or hesita- 
tion, which becomes confirmed and finally develops 
into the graver trouble. It is worthy of continued 
iteration that the trouble usually grows worse up to 
a certain period in life, and that stuttering fre- 
quently merges into stammering by reason of the 
continued irritation and nervous depression incident 
to constant endeavor and constant failure to express 
oneself. Ultimately the mind reaches that state 
where it ceases to control speech ; hence stammer- 
ing. The tendency of every habit, mental, moral, 
and physical, is growth and development. Its prog- 
ress may be arrested at any stage, but usually it 
continues. The only safe way is to begin at its foun- 
dation and overthrow it, and then the tendency will 
be in the direction of normal activity. This prin- 
ciple applies to abnormal vocal action. 

Suppose a child from its earliest infancy heard no 
human voices but those of stammerers, it would 
never speak in any other way — at least not until it 
releamed the processes of speech. Now suppose 


that instead of this, it hears proper speech from 
some and improper from others, it will follow the 
line of least resistance. If it is predisposed to 
hesitancy or thick utterance, it will follow the im- 
I)erfect example — will imitate and improve (?) upon 
it. Then suppose it consciously mimics the stam- 
merer, it is simply hastening its own downfall, and 
is fostering and encouraging a habit which in time 
will lead to much misery. There are cases where 
parents have, in a playful manner, stuttered out 
sentences to their children, only to find the answer 
unconsciously framed in the same broken form. 
Given the proper conditions, a stammerer may be 
made of any one. 

Usually, then, the stammerer is not bom but 
made. The utmost that we can grant is that through 
heredity he may be predisposed to it ; but this may 
be easily corrected or removed. It is not an inde- 
pendent or functional disease, for one may stammer 
and the whole system be perfectly normal. It is a 
habit or a symptom. Klencke says : ^ Stammering 
is not independent, it is not a disease by itself. It is 
in every case a symptom, only a reflection of a pre- 
dominating mental and physical disease.'^ Even 
when the physical organism is normal the difficulty 
is usually accompanied with a lowering of the vital 
force, and a consequent nervous derangement and 
enervation. This condition causes stammering, 
and, too, stammering causes this condition. Thus 
the disease and its symptoms are each cause and 
efiEect, and each reacts on the other. To express it 
differently, one stammers beoause of certain abnor- 
mal mental and physical conditions, and these con- 

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It may develop in us from other reasons. We may 
be weak from sickness, and because we are timid 
something frightens and shocks us. Then in at- 
tempting to speak we stmnble over the words. We 
are told we stammer, our attention is directed to 
the fault, and we are afraid of repeating the error, 
and thus we grow worse until the habit is con • 
firmed. Speaking from the standpoint of heredity, 
we can say only that one may inherit a combination 
of mental and physical traits which, under certain 
conditions, may lead to stammering, but never, ex- 
cept in conjunction with other assisting and exciting 
causes or influences. Probably the most difficult 
form to cure is that which comes from heredity, 
since in this one has to deal not simply with a habit 
acquired by an individual, but with a trouble that is 
deep seated and that had its origin in generations 
now gone. It is a battle with a strong predisposi- 
tion, and one who stammers from this cause has the 
habit as he has any other family characteristic. In 
many instances, no doubt, where stuttering is said 
to be hereditary, it is simply due to association 
with those who are thus afHicted ; yet stammering is 
often tmdoubtedly due to heredity. In some cases 
many members of a family may experience the diffi- 
culty — uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, and cousins. 
In cases of stammering that are clearly hereditary 
all may not be similarly afflicted. Some may sim- 
ply be slow of speech, others may stutter, and still 
others may stutter and stammer, while the worst 
affected simply stammer. The reason is apparent. 
Some have inherited the family trait and disposition 
more thoroughly than others, or have been subject 



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this afiEects the normal action of the whole body, in- 
cluding the organs of speech. It may result in 
hesitancy, quickly followed by stuttering, only to 
evolve into stammering, but the latter follows only 
when the difl&culty has resulted in an improper 
mental control of the machinery which produces 
speech. While it may be stated generally that the 
majority of cases of stammering brought on or de- 
veloped by fright are not difl&cult to cure, we have 
known of a few exceptions, and have come in con- 
tact with a few cases of this class most chronic in 
form and most difficult to cure. 

Many persons can trace their vocal difficulty to 
some serious illness. They have found that, upon 
recovery, their utterance became indistinct, broken 
or inarticulate, which has often resulted in violent 
stammering or stuttering; but, as in other cases, the 
illness was simply the cause that developed the dif- 
ficulty — it did not originate it. It might under 
normal conditions have lain dormant all one's life 
or might have been awakened by other causes. 

Many of the diseases of children have the effect 
of leaving the sufferer in an abnormal state, includ- 
ing abnormality in speech. The reason is that they 
usually have these diseases at the time when speech 
defects are most easily developed and, therefore, 
they serve to aggravate any antecedent inclination. 
It is principally in troubles accompanied with high 
fever that the patient is left with a speech defect, 
such cases as diphtheria, scarlet fever, whooping- 
cough, typhoid fever, mumps, measles, bronchitis, 
etc ; but stammering from sickness results chiefly 
from those cases that are accompanied by delirium. 


Oftentimes persons stammer in delirium, and thus 
the habit is formed which, upon their convales- 
cence, in their depleted condition, they find difficult 
and frequently impossible to shake off. Usually 
sickness with delirium does not result in speech 
hesitancy; it is only where the person from heredi- 
tary or other influences is in that state which ren- 
ders him susceptible that the difficulty arises. 
Before their illness their motor control was suffi- 
cient though not strong, during illness it becomes 
weakened to a point where the mechanism of speech 
refuses to respond to the will, hence the difficulty. 
As in the case of fright, so in this instance; the 
trouble is not difficult to eradicate, because it has 
not been of long duration. All that is needed is to 
build up the system and establish confidence, 
thereby bringing the mental control and the action 
of the organs back to their normal condition. 

When stuttering and stammering follow illness 
the difficulty usually is first shown in the former 
type. This is more often the case as a consequence 
of the diseases of children, for most speech diffi- 
culties originate in earlier years. They rarely 
result if the patient is properly treated, and is kept 
during convalescence from exciting or irritating 
influences — unless there are hereditary tendencies 
in this direction. . Doubtless, there are persons 
who, in the course of time, would develop into stam- 
merers, who suddenly begin because sickness has 
quickly developed that which in a dormant condi- 
tion had already existed. It occasionally follows 
the ordinary diseases incident to childhood, those 
chat are long continued and that sap the vitality, 



and those that are accompanied by violent fevers or 
convulsions. In many cases, if the sufiEerer has the 
proper attention and is given some little care re- 
garding his speech, if care is exercised not to excite 
him or to call attention to his difficulty, and all 
nervons influences are removed, the trouble will 


Chief in the mind of the stammerer is the incon- 
venience in not being able to express his ideas with 
ease and force. He grieves also that his affliction 
sets him apart from his fellow-men, and makes him 
an object of mirth or of compassion — either of 
which is distasteful to a person of character. He 
knows that to others speech is a matter of no con- 
cern, and that when they employ it the mind is not 
engaged in stud3ring word formation and in en- 
deavoring to articulate ; he observes that in normal 
speech the mind is on the thought, and that lan- 
guage comes as naturally and as easily as walking 
or laughing. Therefore he is brought into constant 
contact with normal speech, and as constantly, by 
comparison, beholds his own abnormality. He usu- 
ally grows worse rather than better. He began 
with a few sotmds which he found difficult to utter. 
When he became painfully conscious of the difficulty 
with these he avoided them when that was possible. 
This makes him conscious of his speech. With this 
feeling in mind he experiences an ever present fear 
of words in general. This causes him to stumble 


over Other combinations, and when he loses confi- 
dence in his ability to utter these he tries in future 
to avoid them. The more important the occasion 
or the person addressed, the worse the utterance be- 
comes, until finally he gives up trying to speak, ex- 
cept by using a few of the easiest words, and even 
these cost a struggle. Certain words and combina- 
tions are discarded, for the reason that their utter- 
ance becomes impossible. 

The effect of this struggle, of this nervous fear, 
and of this elimination goes deeper than he is will- 
ing to admit. It makes a deep and lasting impres- 
sion on his character. His mind has not received 
its highest development, and his moral nature has 
been dwarfed by jrielding to constant fear. The 
mind develops in proportion to its ability to express 
itself, and it is only through some form of communi- 
cation that we attain any degree of intelligence. 
Persons with deficient vocal organs, who have been 
taught no form of communication, are usually 
idiotic, but almost invariably when they have been 
shown how they may express themselves, or when 
speech has resulted from the removal of the physical 
difficulty, they rapidly grow in intelligence. Stam- 
mering, however, rarely develops until the person 
has acquired at least a limited use of language, and, 
too, one can usually express himself lamely, and at 
times may be able to speak with considerable ease. 
Therefore, that his mental and moral nature is 
dwarfed by his affliction is not so apparent to him, 
but it is a truth nevertheless. With his lack of 
speech control, he must ever have less intellectual 
capacity, and a lower moral stamina, than were he 


free from the trouble. Every time a person avoids 
an expression which he wishes to employ but cannot, 
he loses something of his mental and moral fibre. 
The stammerer is apt to become secretive and mo- 
rose. Naturally he will avoid the society of other 
men. With this constant dread in his mind he 
must become gloomy and ill-natured, and, whatever 
he may be, it is safe to assume that his life and 
character would be di£Eerent if he were free from 
his impediment 

The stammerer is naturally cut off from many so- 
cial pleasures. He refuses to be placed in a position 
where his diflSculty is noticed, and he becomes 
aware in a thousand ways that it is noticed. Pity is 
almost as galling as ridicule. The measure of his 
affliction is always apparent to him by constant 
comparison with the speech of other men. In many 
cases, through years of annoyance and struggle, his 
disposition becomes soured ; he is irritable and un- 
stable; and what makes his disposition worse, per- 
haps, is the fact that he knows his own ill-nature. 
By his affliction he is limited, too, as to occupation. 
Most of the vocations of life require speech, and 
this is especially true of business. The stammerer 
is practically cut off from the professions, or he is 
discouraged and hampered in any of them. He 
cannot become a salesman, or perform any duty 
where it is necessary for him to meet people. Con- 
sequently an occupation where only his hands are 
engaged is almost the only one open to him. He 
may have taste for some mechanical pursuit, or he 
may not; and even in this, of course, his difficulty 
becomes apparent. He becomes the subject of jest 


for his fellow-workmen, is subject to the abuse of 
irritable employers, and spends his dajrs often in 
fear and misery. In traveling he is constantly em- 
barrassed, as frequently he cannot ask a question 
nor answer one. Is it any wonder, then, that his 
whole nature suffers in consequence, and that his 
life consists in a succession of miserable failures ? 


Frequently stammerers are at fault themselves, 
and are generously assisted by relatives, friends, and 
acquaintances. Children with secretive or bashful 
natures, and those who are nervous and fretful, are 
apt pupils in stammering. Most people in sudden 
fright, confusion, or other great excitement will 
stammer, and thus certain mental habits, produc- 
ing their own natural effects, continually encourage 
and emphasize the stammering habit. 

Just here our friends come to our assistance. The 
boy is whipped for his fault, and scolded for his 
stammering. His playmates imitate and mock him. 
He is singled out as the butt of merry jests. A 
terrible deformity, forsooth, is amusing. He with- 
draws from his fellows, perhaps becomes sullen and 
silent, and this only increases his difficulty. 

Fear and sudden fright are frequent causes lead- 
ing directly to vocal-hesitation. Children are flogged 
for being afraid. This is, fortunately, less rare 
than formerly, but all means of torture have not 
yet disappeared. Oftentimes a child is called a 
coward that is simply imaginative. It is put in a 



dark room, where its fancy pictures all kinds of 
weird creatures, which to it are half real, while its 
more sedate and practical brother sees nothing but 
the real objects, and is only ordinarily impressed 
with the gloom. Think of the family, sitting around 
the fire whispering of mysterious happenings — 
which tales are supplemented by genuine hair- 
raising stories by the servants — and then expect the 
child to go to its room and in the dark compose its 
mind to a sound sleep. Most children are afraid of 
the dark, because they are made so, while, on the 
other hand, we know of a little toddler, who has 
never had her mind poisoned by mysterious happen- 
ings, who finds great enjoyment in searching for 
people or things in dark rooms. 

Sudden fright is dangerous to the nerves of the 
child* and therefore endangers speech. Numerous 
cases of stammering have resulted from this. At 
times the impediment lasts only for an instant; at 
other times it recurs at intervals throughout life, 
when the person is ill, nervous, or excited, and in 
some others the trouble so originated remains as 
a fixed habit. Sometimes these causes are unavoid- 
able, at others they are deliberately planned. It is 
rare sport to hide in the dark and suddenly spring 
out at your victim, or to put strange objects in a 
person's bed, or to walk abroad clothed in a sheet. 
To the mind of the perpetrator it may be humorous, 
but it is none the less criminal for that. 

The diseases of childhood, too, furnish their pro- 
portion of speech defects. When they are severe 
and do not receive proper attention there are fre- 
quently after-defects which result seriously. The 


nervous system may be deranged, and the mental 
and moral robustness, in consequence, becomes 
weakened. Sometimes children are taken from the 
sick room and placed in school, where they resume 
the mental and nervous strain, with the additional 
burden of * catching up* what they have lost by 
reason of their absence. Perhaps they are too ill to 
engage in sports, but their tasks must be accom- 
plished. The result frequently is that their health 
is undermined for life ; and that all the conditions 
which make stammering possible are created. 

American parents are too anxious for their chil- 
dren to keep up with their classes and to make a 
good showing. It is not an exaggeration to say that 
there are thousands of victims of this folly, whose 
nerves are wrecked for life. Health should be su- 
preme. Children at times fall behind their classes 
while doing their best, because they are not in 
proper condition to perform their tasks. Frequently 
when they are taken away and their health and 
spirits are restored, they enter again upon their 
work with zest and accomplish with ease that which 
before was irksome. 



WITH the idea of presenting a correct and authen- 
tic table of statistics useful to teachers, stu- 
dents, and stammerers and interesting to the general 
pubUc, the writers have gathered together, as the 


result of much investigation and labor, facts that 
will no doubt prove valuable to those interested in 
the study of the subject of stammering. The fol- 
lowing questions, which form the basis from which 
the facts relating to the subject have been gath- 
ered, form in substance the matter contained in a 
printed question-blank that we submitted to several 
thousand persons who stammer and who, after fill- 
ing out the blank spaces on the sheet with answers 
to the various questions asked, returned the ques- 
tion-blank to us and received in reply our written 
diagnoses of their cases. In this manner we have 
been able to gather together much valuable infor- 
mation relating to the subject, and we beg to sub- 
mit it to the reader as the result of our investigation 
and experience. The question-form as here sub- 
mitted does not appear in the exact style in which 
it was sent out, as it would be difficult to conform 
the text to the size and dimensions of the page 
upon which we have also added the answers as they 
appear on one of the forms submitted. The name 
and address of the patient have been omitted. An- 
swers are printed in italics : — 

Age ? Thirty, . 

Height ? Five and one-half feet. 

Weight ? One hundred and sixteen pounds. 

Oocapation ? Houseworh, 

Married or single ? Married, 

How many children have you ? Two, 

If yoa have children, how many of them stammer ? One, 

At what age did you commence to stammer ? All my 

Do either of your parents stammer ? If so, which ome ? 


Have you any relatives who stammer ? If so, how many 
and what relation are they to you ? One uncU^ two cousins, 
one brother, and two sisters. 

To what is your stammering attribatable ; heredity, disease, 
sickness, fright, or mimicry ? Fright and sickness. 

Does your difficulty embarrass yon before strangers ? Yes. 

Can 3rou read aloud in a room, by yourself, withoat diffi- 
culty ? No, 

Do you stammer often, occasionally or seldom ? Often. 

Do you contort your features, move your muscles, or draw 
your limbs when attempting to speak ? If so, to what extent ? 
I contort my features and muscles when I at t em ft to speak. 

Under what conditions do you experience the greatest diffi- 
culty ? In trying to speak certain names, such as telling 
the names of my brothers. 

Do you stammer worse in argument than in ordinary con- 
versation ? / stammer worse in argument than in ordinary 

Words beginning with what letters give you the most diffi- 
culty ? d, /, /, b. 

Do you make a hissing sound, or the sound of escaping 
breath, in your effort to speak ? Sound of escaping breath. 

Do you rapidly repeat one word or syllable before yon utter 
the following ones ? I do not repeat. 

Do you stand transfixed, unable to utter a sound ? I do. 

Can you sing without any difficulty ? Yes. 

Does your impediment bother you when very angry ? Yes. 

Are there some persons to whom you can talk without any 
difficulty ? At times. 

Do you use tobacco or cigarettes ? If so, to what extent ? 

Do you use liquor ? If so, to what extent ? No. 

Do you lisp as well as stammer ? No. 

Are you of a nervous or extremely netvocis te m perament ? 
Very nervous at times. 

Your disposition ? Happy. 

What is your physical condition at present ? Poor. 

Have you ever tried elsewhere to be cured ? If so, where 
and how long were you under treatment ? Never have tried 
elsewhere to be cured. 


Do yoa articulate your words distinctly when you do not 
stammer ? Yes, 

Write on the back of the sheet any further particulars re- 
garding your case to which you wish to call our attention. 

The reader will notice in the form here submitted, 
the patient, who is married, says that one of her 
children stammers and also that one of her uncles, 
two cousins, a brother and two sisters stammer, 
which would naturally point to a case of hereditary 

She attributes her stammering to fright and sick- 
ness and in this she may be correct, as the difficulty 
of stammering might never have manifested itself 
but for the aggravation of fright which apparently 
was followed by sickness. 

The fact that she cannot read aloud in a room by 
herself is evidence of a case of stammering, as in 
cases of stammering there is exhibited this peculiar- 
ity which is not found in cases of stuttering, and 
rarely in cases of the combined type. The stam- 
merer usually behaves better when observed, and 
gives greater evidence of his difficulty when vigi- 
lance is relaxed, the opposite of which is true in 
cases of stuttering. 

The reader will notice, too, that she says she is 
embarrassed somewhat in the presence of strangers, 
which is a common characteristic of stammering. 

She says she stammers often and that she con- 
torts her facial muscles in her effort to speak, which 
is further evidence of a case of stammering, espe- 
cially when we take into consideration the fact that 
her difficulty is more apparent in her e£Eort to entm- 
ciate certain names. The stammerers' difficulty 


is purely a mental one, and in persons of this type 
the mind selects in advance the difficulty to be en- 

Special letters and particular sounds cause the 
greatest difficulty, and in some cases the obstruction 
is so marked that utterance is impossible. In this 
case the closed consonants, d^ /, /, b^ appear to be 
particularly difficult; and since the manifestation of 
stammering in the utterance of these letters is 
usually violent, owing to the absolute obstruction of 
the breath in an effort to articulate their sounds, 
the probability is that under such condition the 
patient suffers great mental torture and agony. 

One other indication of stammering is the cir- 
cumstance that the patient, in a letter accompany- 
ing the question-form, says that in attempting to 
speak, she commences with the lungs empty, which 
is another characteristic of certain types of stam- 
mering. Such persons first expel the air from their 
lungs and then try to effect utterance. This habit 
results in mental fatigue and physical exhaustion, 
and is usually accompanied by a feeling of lassitude 
about the diaphragm. 

There is no repetition of words, the patient add- 
ing that in her effort to speak she stands transfixed, 
unable to utter a sound, which is a further evidence 
of a case of stammering. 

The fact that she can sing without difficulty, how- 
ever, is an evidence that the case is not of the most 
severe type. It has been remarked numbers of 
times that stammerers can sing without any mani- 
festation of their speech impediment, but such is 
not true in all cases, as the writers have known 


some persons who, owing to their stammering, were 
equally as unable to sing as to speak. 

The fact that there are some persons to whom 
she can talk without hindrance is further evidence 
that the case is one of stammering, though not of 
the most severe type. 

Such a person can be entirely cured with proper 
discipline and instruction, which of course are re- 
quirements in the treatment of all cases. 

In the manner above indicated the writers have 
studied many thousand question-blanks filled out in 
the handwriting of the sufferers whose cases they 
describe, and from the information thus obtained 
have been able to compile the following statistical 
record: — 


The following table represents a statistical record 
compiled from one thousand cases of stammering 
and stuttering. All cases are recorded as heredi- 
tary where hereditary tendency was evidenced: — 


OF Casbs. 

Heredity 394 

No hereditary tendency known — Mimicry 104 

No hereditary tendency known — Sickness 159 

No hereditary tendency known — Pright 94 

No hereditary tendency known — Association 249 

Commenced to stammer before 5 years of age 504 

Commenced to stammer between the ages of 5 and la . . . 391 

C om m en ced to stammer between the ages of 10 and 15 . . . 87 

Commenced to stammer between the ages of 15 and 20. . . 13 

Commeaoed to stammer after 20 years of age. 5 




Good physical condition 756 

Fair physical condition 178 

Poor physical condition 66 

Male 822 

Female 178 

Diagnosed as stammering 647 

Diagnosed as stuttering 353 

Speech defects associated with stammering 3 

Malformation of organs i 

In estimating the number of cases of stammering 
and stuttering here recorded, we included (as stam- 
mering) cases due to heredity, sickness, and fright, 
all of which show evidence of the mental condition 
peculiar to stammering. In our estimate of the 
number of cases of stuttering recorded we have 
added together those due to mimicry and association 
in which the history and the manifestations point to 
a condition acquired or physical. In many cases 
recorded as stuttering, however, it is difficult to say 
whether or not a condition predisposed to the de- 
velopment of the defect may not have existed in the 
beginning, which condition might have remained 
dormant but for the misfortune of mimicry or asso- 
ciation. In such cases if the condition is inherited 
the difficulty is really that of stammering, and thus 
it is possible, if the facts could be more accurately 
ascertained, the number of cases tecorded as stam- 
mering would be increased while the number re- 
corded as stuttering would be decreased. There 
are also included^ under stuttering, cases that might 


be properly termed combined-stammering-and-stut- 
tering, since the difficulty, which was originally 
ph3rsical, evidences also to a slight degree the symp- 
toms of stammering. It is sometimes difficult in 
such cases to tell the degree to which stammering 
has progressed, many cases of this kind later on in 
life develop into genuine stammering. 

If there was any possible way in which the extent 
of the original defect of stammering could be de- 
tected, the certainty in calculation as to the number 
of cases of stammering and stuttering respectively 
could be easily determined; but such being impos- 
sible we have based our calculation entirely upon 
the information furnished, and consider our esti- 
mates as to the relative proportion in numbers as 
approximately correct. 

Out of a total number of one thousand cases ex- 
amined but three persons addicted to stammering 
were found to be otherwise troubled with defective 
utterance, and in these cases the defect was lisping, 
not by any means difficult to correct. It is rather 
interesting to note this fact, from the circumstance 
that many of the earlier investigators attributed 
stammering to malformation of the vocal organs. 
In this connection it will be noticed that but one 
case was found where there was any real malforma- 
tion, and in this case the malformation resulted from 
accident, the shock from which in turn caused stam- 

One other interesting fact is that 39.4 per cent., or 
more than one-third of the cases examined, showed 
hereditary tendency. Thus it is true that a large 
majority of those who stammer inherit the tendency 


from their ancestors and are not by any means di- 
rectly responsible for their unfortunate condition. 

The fact that 24.9 per cent., or one-quarter of the 
cases examined, were the results of association, 
should serve as warning to persons who needlessly 
expose themselves or their children to contact and 
association with stammerers. Many persons form 
the habit of stammering in this manner, whereas 
with a little care the trouble could be permanently 

It is shown that more than 50 per cent of those 
who stammer commence to experience difficulty be- 
fore the age of five years, and from this we suggest 
that children who give evidence of stammering be 
carefully guarded. They should be instructed with 
reference to their incorrect and unnatural manner 
of utterance, and taught to substitute for it correct 
enunciation. There is no better time at which to 
begin the treatment than during the child-life ; the 
old adage *the earlier the better,* or •a stitch in 
time saves nine,* being especially applicable in 
cases of this kind. 

Another interesting fact evidenced as the result 
of our investigation is that 75.6 per cent., or three- 
fourths of the number of cases investigated, re- 
ported good health, from which it would appear 
that stammerers as a class are up to the average 
physically. Klencke attributes stammering to 
scrofulous tendency, but in this he was evidently 
mistaken. We have known but few cases attributa- 
ble to this cause. We have not found stammerers 
as a class •delicate,* •weakly,* nor •spoiled,* as 
reported by Klencke. On the contrary, after per- 


sonal contact with hundreds, and in fact thousands, 
of stammerers we wish to state that as a class (with 
but few exceptions) such as we have met have been 
intelligent, up to the average physically; the only 
difference observable being their nervousness or 
their timid reserve, attributable wholly to their 
stammering, which latter is evidenced by the fact 
that when they have been cured of their stammer- 
ing their nervousness, as well as their timidity, has 
rapidly disappeared. 

Another fact shown is that more than 82 per cent. 
of those who suffer from stammering are males, 
while the number of females thus afflicted is less 
than 18 per cent. 



IN NEARLY all cascs dcfccts of speech arise early in 
life, and usually at some period between four 
and ten years. Most cases show their first S3rmp- 
toms about the time the boy begins to attend 
school. His peculiarity may not have been much 
noticed at home, but now he comes into close rela- 
tions with many other children who are thoughtless 
and mischievous, and any peculiarity is seized upon 
and becomes the subject for sport. Then, too, a 
certain nervous strain begins, for in ordinary school- 
life the competitive system is at its highest pres- 
sure. The child is under a nervous strain, which 


has a tendency to aggravate any defect in speech. 
Fear of not knowing his lesson causes stumbling 
and hesitation, and smiles and laughter heighten 
his difficulty. His teacher may not sympathize 
with him, and may show annoyance at his vocal in- 
ability. On the playground his difficulty is the 
subject of mockery, and thus every agent to make 
the stammerer is present. He does not always 
receive full sympathy at home, and rarely does he 
get intelligent treatment. Parents become im- 
patient, his brothers and sisters mimic him, and 
altogether he becomes discouraged in his attempts 
to speak properly. All this helps to establish the 
habit firmly. 

There have been cases where parents have threat- 
ened to flog their children if they did not cease 
stammering, and they have even executed the 
threat. It may be doubted whether this remedy 
has ever succeeded, as in certain cases persons 
grow out of the habit when it is not established, 
but in most cases the treatment is barbarous, and 
produces the opposite result of that intended. It 
makes the child more nervous, as added to his 
difficulty is the fear of whipping, which alone is 
sufficient to cause stammering. Another mistake 
is to let the child alone, thinking he will outgrow 
his defect. Sometimes he does, but usually he does 
not, and through the lapse of time his difficulty be- 
comes confirmed. It is true of many diseases that 
we may outgrow them, but the better plan is to as- 
sist nature in every way possible. 

In many cases, where the child is beginning to 
show speech defect, a little intelligence, care and 


persistence will be found sufficient to eradicate the 

Is school-life against him? Do his schoolmates 
annoy him? Is the strain of competition too much 
on his nerves ? Take him away for a time, for a 
year or two if necessary. Allow him to associate 
only with those who sympathize with him and who 
treat him kindly. Provide if necessary a private 
tutor for him for a year, and give him good moth- 
erly home instruction. Attend to his health and 
diet, let him exercise in the open air, study a sys- 
tem of exercises in breathing and articulation, in- 
struct him during certain periods daily, and he may 
almost certainly be cured. Attend to his speech as 
you would to his health, for abnormality in the for- 
mer may cause him more misery than in the latter. 

If he begin to stammer, in consequence of fright 
or after sickness, exercise every care. Do not let 
him be excited, do not encourage him to talk much 
at first. When his strength is restored, do not tax 
him with trying tasks — that may make him ner- 
vous. Treat him with great kindness. Gradually 
he may be given exercises in breathing and in artic- 
ulation, but do not scold and don't whip him. 

Below is the testimony of a few persons as to the 
origin of their trouble : One imitated a plajnnate at 
about twelve years of age and contracted stam- 
mering, from which she was never afterwards free. 

Another had a slight hesitancy in speech when he 
w^nt to school. He was embarrassed when the 
teacher asked his name, and could not answer. The 
children teased him, and from that day he began to 
stammer, which time confirmed. 


A boy put frogs in his brother's bed; the result 
was violent convulsions, followed by stammering. 

A boy of eight was so frightened by a sudden an- 
gry command of his father that he fell ; he stam- 
mered ever after. 

Another talked a great deal while ill with whoop- 
ing-cough; began to stammer, and the habit grew 
upon recovery. 

A girl imitated a playmate and contracted the 
habit of stuttering, which she could not afterwards 

A child stumbled in pronouncing a word in school, 
was kept in after class, and the children teased and 
laughed at him. Stammering developed immedi- 

A girl had scarlet fever, and while still very weak 
had for a companion a deaf aunt to whom she was 
compelled to shout. Speech-hesitation and finally 
stammering resulted. 

A boy had a playmate who stammered, whom he 
imitated unconsciously and contracted the habit. 

Another had diphtheria, and started to school 
while still weak ; he began to show hesitation, and 
the strain of school and the ridicule of his play- 
mates helped to develop stuttering. 

A boy was suddenly asked a question and could 
not answer from confusion. He gradually devel- 
oped stammering. 

A young man went to a theatre, heard an actor 
stammer, and found upon returning home that he 
himself had contracted the habit. 

A child fell down stairs when seven years of age 
and through fright stammered ever after. 



A woman about to become a mother was subjected 
to great fright by fire ; when her child grew to the 
age of three it developed stammering of a most se- 
vere type. 

A boy five years of age being tickled on the feet 
with a straw by an older brother developed stam- 
mering immediately. 

An actor who imitated the stammerer's contor- 
tions for a number of years himself became a stam- 
merer and was compelled to undergo treatment for 
the difficulty. 

A boy who went swimming in a mill pond got out 
beyond his depth, narrowly escaped drowning and 
stammered ever after. 

A girl who stammered told us that both of her 
parents stammered, her grandfather on one side of 
the family and her grandmother on the other side 
both stammered. Stammering due to heredity. 

A sensitive child was ridiculed by its playmates 
and stammered terribly. 

We know of countless cases under these various 
heads and the most usual causes are shown to be 
imitation, sickness, fright, ridicule, and combina- 
tions of these. 



IN SUMMING Up the ideas necessary to the cure of 
stammering and stuttering we may condense 
them in one word — discipline. The one inflexible 
law in this world is contained in the command — do 
right. We err through ignorance, or through our 
own indolence or perversity. Knowledge is not 
necessarily power; the steam engine is not power. 
Knowledge and proper use combined produce good 
results. Almost every power possessed by man 
owes its strength and force to proper use ; yet here 
knowledge comes again to our rescue. There are 
limits to our capacity and endurance, and our pow- 
ers must not be overtaxed. In order that we may 
not fall into this error many things must be bal- 
anced up. Time, disposition, and our own peculiar 
temperament require consideration. Are we weak 
physically, and do we impose on ourselves prolonged 
and arduous mental tasks ? These and many other 
questions each person must answer for himself. 

We desire for every purpose health and normal 
activity. Health of body results from many causes. 
Heredity has been at work preparing the way for 
us generations before we were bom. When we as- 
sume control there are certain tendencies well estab- 
lished. Through an exercise of the proper means 
we may outgrow or neutralize many favorable 
tendencies, or we may encourage and develop them. 
Our living should be normal, and the body should 



not be considered something that we may abuse 
with impunity. A low physical condition and vari- 
ons disorders are the methods the body has of en- 
tering protest at ill treatment. We should be 
reasonable in our habits. Diet, proper air, regular 
exercises, are all indispensable. Starvation and 
gluttony are equally injurious, and when self- 
imposed are equally reprehensible. Exercise, too, 
must be adapted to the needs of the individual. 
What one could accomplish would kill another. 
Modem conditions, as far as labor is concerned, 
have imposed almost all the physical exercise on one 
class and withheld it from others. 

• A sane mind in a sound body,* is the more re- 
cent ideal ; and this is in recognition of the funda- 
mental character of the constitution of man. While 
many great men have been naturally feeble, yet all 
will admit that, from the mental standpoint alone, 
health of body is much to be desired. But we are 
coming to recognize, by slow degrees, the value of 
mentality as an agency in the proper development 
of the physical man. There is no doubt that that 
exercise is best which requires mental activity. 
Hence games of skill, or in which there is the ele- 
ment of contest, are the best. There is no reason 
why mental development should be left to a class, 
and others content themselves with living mere 
animal lives, like beasts of burden. No matter 
what may be our position or occupation, a certain 
intellectual development is desirable. Every man 
should be constantly adding to his store of knowl- 
edge and enlarging in some way the sphere of his 
mental activity. Perhaps but few persons so apply 


their minds that they get the best results. Thou- 
sands ruin their health in study. The mind can do 
so much and no more, forcing it beyond this point 
results in depression, nervousness or collapse. We 
have heard of students engaged at their books for 
fifteen hours dailv. When this is continued for a 
considerable time there must be a breakdown. It 
is impossible for one to engage in concentrated men- 
tal eflFort for more than eight hours daily on an 
average. One who spends more time is only half 
studying, while the effort to keep at it is exceed- 
ingly trying. If we would perform every task with 
our whole mind, and with a concentrated effort, 
how much time we should save, and how much bet- 
ter in every way we should be! 

Then come moral discipline and development. 
These make character, modify temperament, and 
assist in every line of human activity. The will 
of man is a God-like power, and if properly used 
it makes man a most superb being. By its exercise 
man becomes a great factor in the shaping of his 
own destiny; but it is a power, too, that demands 
exercise and develops along the lines of its use. A 
man without purpose is like a rudderless ship at sea: 
he must drift with the tide and be at the mercy of 
every breeze. Such a person may be intelligent, 
but must be impotent in every relation. What we 
should do day by day, and what we would become, 
are determined not simply by knowledge, but by a 
directing energy which controls our activities along 
the lines our minds have predetermined. 

Failure and wrongdoing are due to a lack of self- 
direction rather than to insufficient knowledge. 


Having discussed this trinity — the physical, the 
mental and the moral natures — there is a conclud- 
ing thought which may apply to the stammerer. 
They must be developed in unison, and aid and as- 
sist each other. Coordination is a most desirable 
quality. The physical nature must obey the mind. 
The vocal organs must be brought under control, 
and in order to do this our mental operations must 
be clear and the demand reasonable. When we 
think too rapidly or disconnectedly for the vocal 
organs to perform their duty they fail from the 
necessities of the case, and thus form the habit of 
disobedience. Then comes the opportunity for the 
will to assert itself. It must compel the mind to 
set reasonable and exact tasks, and see that the 
vocal organs are brought into subjugation again. 

You can dictate to a stenographer so rapidly or so 
brokenly that he cannot perform his task ; the mind 
may impose similar tasks on the vocal apparatus. 
Continue this for years, and it may become unable 
to perform its functions under any conditions. Now, 
in some cases, if you impose on yourself the task of 
clearly thinking out every word, clause and sen- 
tence before you attempt utterance, the organs of 
speech may respond, but if they do not, then you 
will have to go back to the beginning and patiently 
but persistently relearn the processes of speech. 
You may help yourself, you may even effect a cure, 
but if circumstances warrant, you will do better to 
place yourself in the hands of a competent tutor, as 
this is the most certain and the quickest way. The 
ideal institution for the cure of stammering should 
be planned to meet all of these conditions. It 


should have the pupil under control at all times; 
the habits of the stammerer, diet, exercise, vocal 
drill, and respiration should be under control, not 
for certain hours, but all the time, and he should be 
encouraged to discipline himself. Because these 
conditions are lacking many teachers faiL 


WE MAY gather from historical sources that stam- 
merers have always existed, and we also find 
that efforts have always been made to remedy the 

All sorts of views as to the origin of the difficulty 
have been maintained, and from these we get an 
idea of the treatment pursued. They may be con- 
densed as follows : — 

That the trouble is purely physical, and is due to 
improper manipulation of the muscles, especially 
the muscles of the larynx, tongue, and lips. Con- 
sequently, exercises have been devised by which 
these parts may be strengthened and made flexible. 

Another class have argued that speech hesitancy 
comes from physical weakness or abnormality, and 
that all elocutionary exercises are not only unneces- 
sary but often injurious. 

Others, who claim that it is a species of moral 
cowardice, contend that through determined and 
persistent effort all these faults may be eradicated. 
Their suggestions are aimed at securing control of 


the organs of speech by such mental control as will 
not allow us to become angry, nervous, embarrassed 
or otherwise excited. 

Others have claimed that it is purely a nervous 
matter, and that whatever helps to give control and 
evenness of the nerves assists in eliminating the 
trouble. To that end they recommend the acquisi- 
tion of an equable temperament, ease and delibera- 
tion. That one should abstain from all excesses, 
take sufficient exercise, and eat only the most nutri- 
tious food suitable to normal nervous action. 

The thoughtful student will find in all of these 
views the germs of both truth and error. Half- 
truths are dangerous things, and in this case have 
oftentimes led to disaster. That the manifestation 
of the trouble is muscular no one will deny, and 
physical exercises are most valuable for the reason 
that they render the muscles flexible and strong, 
and thereby enable us to speak with less physical 
effort Then, too, healthy muscular effort is a tonic 
to the nerves and has a reflex action on the mind. 

The theory that stammering is a species of moral 
cowardice needs qualification and consideration. 
It has never been shown that the stammerer is par- 
ticularly deficient in either mental or moral stamina; 
and yet this thought, too, contains a truth. He 
needs higher morality, clearer insight and stronger 
will than the average man, to enable him to combat 
and overcome his affliction, and while elocutionary 
exercises are invaluable, that high moral purpose 
and determined effort, which accomplish so much 
elsewhere, become most potent in the battles with 



That it is a nervous matter, too, is evident; but 
the will controls the nerves, as witness the physi- 
cians' remedies for hjrsteria. It also keeps us from 
putting ourselves in those mental and physical con- 
ditions where the nerves are unduly excited A 
high moral purpose will prevent all forms of indul- 
gence when the effect is deleterious, and will pre- 
scribe and insist on proper habits of living. To 
sum up the matter, we find that stammering is 
rarely if ever due to faulty vocal organs, that the 
fault directly is with the organs which are controlled 
by a set of muscles, that these muscles must be 
trained to act readily, flexibly, easily and precisely. 
Then these are controlled by the nerves, which 
must be rendered healthy by proper living, by 
exercise, and an abstention from exciting or ener- 
vating influences. All this machinery is in turn 
controlled by the mind, which must keep its poise, 
must avoid undue stimulation or depression, and 
must with an unflagging purpose pursue the course 
of treatment mapped out to effect the cure. Hence 
this subject has a three-fold aspect — psychological, 
physical, and elocutionary. 


THE laws of nature are inexorable, and, whether 
they be moral or physical, when they are not 
observed the guilty one must pay the penalty. The 
sins of the fathers are visited upon the children 
unto the third and fourth generations; but the chil- 
dren, fortunately, do not have to bear them all. 
The guilty party himself, frequently, is called upon 
to expiate them. What a man is physically de- 
pends largely upon the elements he takes into his 
body, what kind of air inflates his lungs, what food 
and drink fills his stomach and engages the atten- 
tion of the digestive organs. This is also true of 
the mental or moral nature. It must be fed, and 
frequently it consumes poisonous substances, until 
an artificial appetite prevails. The choice must be 
determined by predisposition and by one's own in- 
alienable right to select for himself. 

Perhaps there is no branch of the treatment of 
speech defects more difficult and delicate to handle 
than this; but, nevertheless, the conscientious 
teacher must consider it cautiously but fearlessly. 
And the student himself will have an additional in- 
centive to keep his mind and spirit on a clean, ele- 
vated plane, when he learns that in addition to the 
great rewards which lie in morality, a direct and 
favorable influence will be exerted on his speech. 

Secret vices must be discarded, by reason of both 
their moral and physical effects. A cunning, secre- 
tive habit of mind must be corrected. Then, too, 



morality is not only negative but it is also positive. 
It consists not only in leaving undone the things 
which we ought not to do, but also in doing those 
things which we ought to do. The habit of mina 
which is clean is conducive to good vocality. One 
who could open up his mind at any time for the 
world's gaze, who can look any one in the face fear- 
lessly, has little cause to stammer; but if he does, 
the difficulty then probably comes from diffidence, 
excessive excitability or nervous derangement, and 
may usually be overcome without much difficulty. 
But let it be remembered that the stammerer whose 
moral nature is such that he constantly feels a sense 
of inequality or g^ilt, and whose own judgment sits 
constantly to accuse him, has little chance of effect- 
ing a cure unless he reforms. 

By morality we do not mean being religious in 
any sectarian sense. We mean, rather, intellectual 
and moral probity, the entertaining of pure ideas 
and proper motives. One should have some occu- 
pation to engage his attention, he should pursue 
some line of reading or of thought that is elevating, 
and abstain from that which is degrading. In 
short, he must make of himself a better man in order 
to cure his defect. It is often true that the stam- 
merer is no worse morally than other people, but in 
order to cure his defect he must be on a higher 
plane than the average man. It is certain, too, that 
a low moral nature always assists the development 
of stammering when one is at all predisposed in 
that direction. 

Few of us realize in ourselves the possibilities of 
an inflexible purpose, directed along proper lines. 


Talent and genius may fail of accomplishment; but 
persistent eflfort — rarely. It is the power which 
helps us to surmount all obstacles and which turns 
defeat into victory. Men have accomplished and 
are accomplishing wonders every day, simply by 
not knowing when they are beaten. 

Almost every person with a speech difficulty could 
overcome it himself if he would. First, it requires 
determination to study the subject. After he knows 
what habits he must form, he finds it hard to live 
up to them. There are certain exercises which 
must be followed regularly and persistently. This, 
he determines, is too great a task. If he goes to 
some institution for a cure he selects one where the 
rules are not ngid, or he hesitates to follow the in- 
structions given him. He has not within him the 
will power to effect a cure. This is true of a tjrpe. 
Others need only to have the way pointed out, — 
their courage and persistence are equal to the 

His habits should be regular and normal, and un- 
less this is insisted upon it is practically impossible 
to remedy the defect It will not do to arg^e that 
you are more regular and careful than many other 
men who do not stammer. The fact is that you do 
stammer, and, therefore, an extra effort is required 
of you if you desire to eradicate this plague. 

It is unnecessary to state that all vicious indul- 
gences must be discarded — such as intoxication, or 
secret immorality ; but there are other habits which 
constantly aggravate the trouble by keeping up nerv- 
ous irritation or depletion. One should so order 
his life that his general health is kept in the highest 


possible state ; his mind free from great anxiety and 
care. He should arrange to do his work with the 
least possible strain and avoid those things which 
he knows irritate or depress. 

Of course, it is easy to exclaim against that fate 
which has made you a stammerer; and you may 
wonder why those around you who do not live tem- 
perately, and who break almost every law which we 
deem necessary to a cure, do not have your afflic- 
tion. The principle is this: when you are ill from 
any cause you must exercise greater care in every 
particular than other men ; what you eat or drink, 
your exercise and your mental temperament are 
subjects for consideration. He who stammers has 
a bad habit or disease, and in order that it may be 
eradicated he must be willing to control himself in 
every particular. This is beneficial in two ways: 
by establishing normal habits of living the whole 
system is built up and put in healthy tone, and by 
this exercise of self-restraint and self-government 
the will is strengthened. This is one of the most 
necessary requirements in securing the proper con- 
trol of vocalization. 

There is another inducement that lies in the for- 
mation of proper habits. A person enjoys better 
health, has a clearer mind and a higher moral tone, 
and, therefore, life for him takes on a brighter col- 
oring. Certainly virtue is its own reward. It is a 
fact that those persons who have been badly afflicted 
with stammering, and who have been cured, are 
almost invariably men of higher physical and moral 
tone than their average associates. This leads us, 
then, to oflFer some suggestions to those who have 


made up their minds to eradicate the evil, and these 
suggestions are offered, not because they are plausi- 
ble, but because they are necessary. 

The first question that should engage our atten- 
tion is that of diet. What a man is physically, 
and to an extent mentally, depends largely upon 
what he takes into his body. Every person is a 
furnace in which air, solids and liquids are con- 
sumed ; these are the elements necessary to keep up 
combustion. These elements are constantly dis- 
integrating and, in their new form, entering the 
blood and being changed into nerve, muscle, blood, 
bone and brain. A poison permeates the whole sys- 
tem. Some materials are difficult to consume and 
cause the fires to bum low and almost to go out. 
Therefore, wliat we eat and drink, when we eat 
and drink, and haw we eat and drink, become ques- 
tions requiring our best thought and control. 

In many respects we are superior to the animal, 
and it is shown in this particular. The brute's ap- 
petite is governed by desire, into which smell and 
taste enter; it will eat what its appetite and capacity 
demand. But the human being, in addition to 
these instincts, has judgment based on science and 
observation. What he craves may be shown by 
reason to be poisonous. In recovering from an at- 
tack of indigestion he may desire pork and pickles, 
but judgment says they would probably kill him. 
He knows that certain foods are nutritious, others 
difficult to digest. He can tell in a general way 
what elements each contain and what effect they 
will have on the system. Besides this, he recog- 
nizes that occupation is a determining factor, that 


the laboring man can digest and assimilate elements 
that would kill a sedentary person. All this knowl- 
edge he may use, and he disobeys it at his peril. 

It is a scientific fact that in civilized communities 
men take into their bodies a considerable proportion 
of food which is not digested or assimilated, and 
which, therefore, is a positive injury rather than a 
benefit. This undigested and unnecessary amount 
equals from one-fifth to two-fifths of the total food 
consumed. It will be seen readily that this acts as 
a clog and a poison ; the digestive organs are over- 
crowded, and there is often fermentation in the 
stomach. Consequently, many suflEer from drow- 
siness, heaviness, and various forms of dyspepsia, 
and from such people the patent medicine nos- 
trums receive their principal support. From this 
mere animal feeding the laboring man receives 
some relief, but one of sedentary habits must suf- 
fer the full penalty. 

Then, too, what we shall eat becomes a question 
of grave importance and depends on our occupa- 
tion, predisposition and the general state of health. 
There are certain rules which apply to all men, and 
others which fit individual cases; therefore, a man 
must study himself and follow his own diagnosis. 
It is not our purpose to tell what should be eaten 
and when. Any person with average intelligence 
knows, and doctors and scientists are constantly 
giving advice and suggestions. Suffice it ta say, 
that certain foods lie in the stomach for hours, and 
at times for days, without digestion, while others, 
equally rich in nutriment, may be digested and 
assimilated in a short time; and, too, that certain 


elements contain peculiar qualities which may be 
valuable to strengthen a particular ftmction. 

When food should be taken is a simpler matter; 
regularity is the important consideration. A proper 
amount of wholesome food may be taken every two 
hours, or every five hours, and, perhaps we could 
accustom ourselves to eat but once daily with no ill 
effects. Habit is everjrthing, so long as it does not 
overstep the bounds of our natural capacity. Let 
the amotmt of food to be taken be represented by 10 
units; if the habit is regular it may be as follows: 
breakfast, 3; dinner, 4; supper, 3; or: breakfast, 3; 
luncheon, 3; dinner, 4; or: early breakfast, 2; late 
breakfast, 3; dinner, 4; late dinner, i; or: breakfast, 
4; dinner, 6. The amount in all cases is the same, 
and when the habit is established there will be no 
difficulty in the digestive organs conforming to it; 
but one who changes this formula from day to day 
will experience difficulty. 

Grown persons, as well as children, are constantly 
surprising their stomachs at unexpected moments 
with unexpected things ; the result is a loss of ap- 
petite, nervousness, and irritability, as well as per- 
manent troubles of indigestion, from which many 
other troubles may spring. The following is a 
sample day in the experience of the digestive organs 
of a child, where the sui'prises are frequent — 
Breakfast : ham, eggs and coffee ; ten o'clock : a piece 
of pie; twelve: some poor candy; one (luncheon): 
soup, cold meat, cake and pudding; three: bananas; 
five: more candy; seven: roast, vegetables and more 
pie; nine: ice-cream and cake; ten: to bed; twelve: 

attack of indigestion (mother wonders why); one: 
s .<«— 8 


doctor; three years later: funeral; cause: dispensa- 
tion of Providence. 

Enjoyment of our food is an important factor in 
digestion, and only he who eats the proper kinds, 
and in moderation, can enjoy it. The best sauce is 
a good appetite, and the appetite will be good if 
held under proper control. Proper food, properly 
prepared, taken at regular times, and in proper 
quantities, are the first requisites to health. 


LIQUOR. — While food is an essential to life, and 
only its abuse requires consideration, there are 
other elements taken into the system which are pos- 
itively harmful in all instances, and we can only 
recommend to the stammerer that he avoid them, 
as they are a benefit to no one. We refer to stimu- 
lants and narcotics. The appetite for these is a 
false one. When it seems natural it is only because 
it has been cultivated by us ; or perchance it was 
artificially created in our ancestors, and we have in- 
herited it along with many other undesirable tend- 
encies. Men do not naturally enjoy the taste for 
liquors, but it may be developed. Originally, per- 
haps, men indulge in intoxicants for the exhilaration 
that follows ; and to-day there are men who indulge 
only for similar reasons. Cold science, however, 
has shown that the system does not need stimulants, 
save perhaps in rare and desperate cases, and that 


they are an injury rather than a benefit. The ex- 
hilaration which they produce is unnatural and 
must be paid for. The pendulum swings as far the 
other way, and depression, physically and mentally, 
is the result. When one attempts to keep up the 
exhilaration by constant indulgence, the result is 
determined, and the terrors of delirium tremens and 
untimely death follow. The stammerer or stutterer 
who abuses his system by constant indulgence in 
intoxicants is more deeply impressing his defect, 
and he may never hope for improvement or cure 
until the practice is stopped entirely. If he cannot 
stop, or will not, he has not sufficient will power 
and moral stamina to warrant any hope for the 
elimination of his impediment of utterance. 

Tobacco. — The taste for tobacco is acquired, and 
it acts directly on the nerves. There are persons 
who are so affected by its use that they are con- 
stantly in a state where complete mental and phys- 
ical control is impossible. The system does not 
naturally crave it, and, indeed, men frequently use 
tobacco when it is half repulsive to them. It be- 
comes a mere nervous habit, and is done half for 
something to do. Any standard physiology, or any 
reputable physician, will advise against the habit. 
That it is injurious to any person is certain, for no 
one will advise others to smoke or chew, and no one 
will defend the habit excepting when they them- 
selves are its devotees. We urge the stammerer, 
then, if he has the habit, to give it up. Suffice it to 
say, that the nervous control of the tobacco-user is 
not normal, and hence the correction of speech de- 
fects, under such circumstances, will be practically 


impossible. As to the habitual use of drugs of any 
sort for stimulation, we can only say that one who 
cannot control the habit will lack both that moral 
fibre and the physical control which are imperative 
in this matter. 

Excitability. — There are other habits which are 
harmful and which have an irritating tendency and 
aggravate speech defects. Some persons are always 
excited and in nervous haste. It is shown in con- 
versation and in every movement. They cannot sit 
quietly, even when they have nothing to do. They 
will walk the floor or constantly move their hands 
and feet. Their speech is nervous and irritating. 
They are never in repose — even in sleep they toss 
and squirm. They, as well as those around them, 
are always on the jump, and at high pressure they 
become cross and irritable. As a result, less is 
accomplished in any pursuit, for the reason that 
clear thinking and careful execution are out of the 
question. Whole families live on this strain, all 
from mere habit. It should be and may be eradi- 
cated. If any one is afflicted with a speech defect 
under these conditions, this is one irritating cause 
that must be removed. 

Pure Air Necessary. — We are g^dually awaken- 
ing to the importance of pure air as a matter of 
health, and smce the whole physical nature owes 
its highest tone largely to this, its relation to speech 
defects will be apparent. Persons whose occupa 
tions keep them much in close offices, and who sleep 
in rooms close and ill-ventilated, cannot be in a 
healthy state. Good air is to the body what it is to 
a lamp — shut off the supply and the light is extin- 


guished. One should insist on proper ventilation. 
Many arrange the matter by throwing open the 
doors and windows in summer and sleeping in a 
draft. In winter they close every crack because 
the air is cold, but cold air does not necessarily 
mean air full of oxygen. One should avoid drafts, 
but so arrange that there may always be ingress 
and egress for air. A window open slightly at both 
top and bottom is a good plan. Any apparatus 
which draws the air out of the room from the top is 
on the correct principle, since pure air is drawn in 
below to replace that which is withdrawn. In all 
cases, exercise in the open air. Riding or walking 
should be indulged in. By drinking in copious 
drafts of pure air the lungs are cleansed and stimu- 
lated. The best physical condition possible is the 
standard that the stammerer should keep ever be- 
fore him. While we grant that persons who are 
even physical wrecks do not commonly stammer, 
and also that one may be in fine physical health and 
still have this habit, yet the fact remains that good 
health and tone are necessary to the cure of the 
trouble. If the stammerer has a difficulty in speech 
greater than other men, in order to throw it off he 
must aim to be stronger in every way than the aver- 
age person. 

It may be said that man evidently is not living as 
nature intended animals to live — for man is an ani- 
mal. Several things are required by our very con- 
stitution, and chief among these are pure air and 
healthful exercise. There is no physical organism 
of any animal that receives so little exercise as that 
of civilized man. Savages are natural in this, as 


constant eflEort to provide food keeps them active. 
Hunting and fishing cany them over large areas, 
and there is connected with these occupations exer- 
cises which call into activity every muscle of the 
body. Even those whose lives are such as to re- 
quire muscular effort often are not well developed 
physically. The man who follows the plow may 
have a certain kind of strength, but is likely to be 
clumsy. The blacksmith has strength of arm and 
chest, but lacks agility and all-round development. 

Within the last quarter of a century we have be- 
gun to see the need, for all purposes, of a better de- 
velopment of our physical natures. The effort has 
not been confined to men; women have entered 
into athletics with a vim and persistence that show 
that the idea is something more than a fad. The 
athletic girl is a healthy type that compares favora- 
bly with that of her athletic brother. Colleges are 
more and more coming to realize the necessity of 
making suitable provision for physical education, 
and are encouraging the exercises of the field and 
the gymnasium. 

We by no means commend that excessive degree 
of physical training which is shown in the develop- 
ment of the professional or the semi-professional 
athlete. The tendency in many cases is towards 
overtraining, with the idea of winning some cham- 
pionship. These persons frequently break down 
early in life, because the physical man has been 
overstrained; but there is a middle ground upon 
which all can meet, and where the exercises are not 
a strain, but a pleasure and a benefit. Physical 
training for these purposes should not be violent. 


and ought not to result in exhaustion. The man at 
the oar, who faints from overexertion at the last 
quarter, is perhaps doing himself a permanent in- 
jury. Frequently the lungs and heart are overtaxed 
by extreme exercise. Training should not be aimed 
at producing enormous chest capacity, or great mus- 
cular power, but rather to create healthy and nor- 
mal physical activity and control. The majority of 
persons have no desire to become professional pugil- 
ists, or even expert football players. The muscles 
should all be brought into play, and the whole sys- 
tem, rather than a part, developed. 

We have it on the authority of the best physical 
trainers, that those exercises in which there is the 
element of skill, and in which there is some exhila- 
ration, as in play, are the most beneficial. We set 
aside a period of our lives for pleasurable exercise, 
but when we reach maturity we assume a dignity 
which rarely unbends. We should indulge in some 
forms of play all our lives, as it is both natural and 

Formerly the student was known by his pale 
brow, and his practice of stud)ring long hours with- 
out taking food or rest. The ideal type of woman 
was a languishing, insipid creature, who frequently 
turned pale, had headaches, and was always ready 
to faint on the slightest provocation. Now the g^rls 
are with the boys in playing tennis or golf. They 
may be seen on their wheels touring over the coun- 
try. In the female colleges they are engaged in 
physical feats that rival those of their brothers. 

Exercises that take one out into the open air, and 
those we enjoy, are the best We know a certain 


clergyman who had a large parish in one of our 
great cities, whose duties were so arduous that he 
became almost a physical wreck, and among other 
troubles that resulted from this state of exhaustion 
was a bad form of clergyman's sore throat. He 
consulted a physician, who prescribed medicines 
and treated the throat, but all to no purpose. He 
was also advised to spend an hour a day in walking, 
but there was no improvement; then another physi- 
cian, who was a parishioner, advised vocal exercises 
and boxing. He arranged for a series of lessons 
with a teacher of elocution, and another with a pro- 
fessional pugilist. He kept these up for a few 
months, when his health was not only restored, but 
was better than that of the average man. His 
throat trouble could not have been cured without 
the physical exercises, but the two together pro- 
duced the result. In speaking of it he said : • When 
I was taking my daily walks my mind was on my 
sermons, or on my parish work. When I was box- 
ing my whole attention was directed to keeping off 
the floor, and in endeavoring to return what was 
being given me. ^ This is the secret of exercise. It 
should be of such nature as will take the mind 
away from business and cares, and if possible center 
it in the sport or game in which the person is en- 

Bicycle riding is good exercise for all persons, if 
indulged in with moderation. Those whose idea is 
to make miles, scorchers, etc., receive no benefit. 
Riding through crowded thoroughfares is too much 
like work to be of any value, but a spin through the 
park or along the country roads is exhilarating. 


One should always stop before physically exhausted; 
he should walk the steep hills, even though the fools 
do ride them. In short, all sorts of athletic exer- 
cises that call into action all parts of the body, and 
that are not violent or too exhaustive, are beneficiaL 
Those outdoor sports, where enjoyment is the in- 
centive, are better than set formulas of calisthenics, 
but there are times when the latter only are possi- 
ble. Of these, fencing and boxing are perhaps the 
best, because there is the element of competition, 
and because they most fully occupy the attention. 
One cannot think of business while doing either. 
Then follow punching the bag, swinging dumb-bells 
or clubs, and the various calisthenic exercises. 
Swimming, running, and jumping are fine. Row- 
ing develops the chest and arms. In fact, all games 
and sports are valuable when not overdone. 

Parents should not encourage a child to refrain 
from engaging in the sports of his fellows. One 
great athletic trainer said to the writer: * If I had a 
boy I would do ever5rthing to encourage him to en- 
gage in sports, and would make it easy for him to 
do so, but would never let him know that I was 
anxious.* Boys need that rough-and-tumble con- 
tact with others, not only for the physical training 
it g^ves, but also for the practical lessons of life 
which it teaches. 

Many ®fits of the blues'^ are due to dyspepsia 
and other forms of physical depression, but it is 
rare that we find a healthy, active person who is 
habitually mentally depressed or melancholy. The 
mind affects the body, and the body reacts on the 
mind; therefore the health of each is desirable. 


Thus the stammerer, by engaging in all kinds of 
physical exercises, will render his physical and men- 
tal condition such that a direct cure is much easier 
to accomplish. Normal activity is the secret of 
both mental and bodily health, and when these are 
secured it is easy to cure any special defects, like 
those of speech. Take exercise, then, and let it be 
of such nature that it is both mentally and physic- 
ally exhilarating. 

From the foregoing chapters it will be seen that 
many elements enter into the cure of stammering. 
These may be summarized as follows: A determina- 
tion that knows no defeat; control over the emo- 
tions; physical exercises, good health and good 
spirits. Then come the elocutionary exercises, con- 
sisting of rhythmical utterance; easy and flexible 
action of the muscles of the mouth; breathing exer- 
cises ; freedom of the throat muscles during speech ; 
exercises in articulation, and speaking with due de- 


THERE is a certain rhythm in all good speech. It 
is clearly marked in poetry, and is by no means 
entirely absent in prose. It is not sing-song, but 
has an element of variety which is pleasant to the 
ear. In poetry there are certain accented syllables 
recurring at distinct intervals, and proper reading 
of such selections requires a stroke of the voice^ fol- 
lowed by partial rest. It is like the throb of the 


heart or the beat of the pulse, like day and night, 
sleep and work. A period of activity is followed 
by one of repose. An example or two will be sufl&- 
cient to illustrate this. The student may add others 
at will: — 

I sprang to the stir-mp, and Joris and he; 
I gal-loped, Dick gal-loped, we gal-loped all three, 
Be- hind shut the post-em, the lights sank to rest. 
And in-U> the mid-night we gal-loped a-breast 

— Browning, 

Sweet and low, sweet and low. 

Wind of the West-ern sea; 
Blow , blow, breathe and blow 

Wind of the West-em sea. 

— Tennyson, 

What accent is to the word, emphasis is to the 
sentence. Reading and speaking are frequently 
rendered unpleasant because every word, important 
and unimportant, is uttered with energy and abrupt- 
ness. There is an economy in utterance which 
renders speaking easier and makes a pleasanter 
impression on the hearer. Observe the ease and 
force with which the following may be uttered 
when the emphasis is properly placed : — 

I will most hum-bly take my leave of you. 

YoQ can-not, sir, take from me an-y -thing I would more 
will-ing-ly part, with-al. — Hamlet. 

Then A-grip-pa said unto Paul, thou art per-mit-ted to 
speak for thy-self.— ^/^/^. 


And when he had spent all, there a-rose a might-y fam- ine 
in that land, and he be-gan to be in want ; and he went and 
ioined him-self to a cit-i-zen of that coun-try, and he sent 
him into his fields to feed swine. — Bible, 

The student may make selections of rhythmical 
poetry and read them aloud for the purpose of 
practice. If necessary he may read at first with 
great deliberation^ marking the rhythm decidedly. 
When this is possible without stumbling he should 
shorten the time given to the words and make the 
measure less pronounced. When the reading be- 
comes normal he may read the selections to others. 

He should follow this with selections in prose, 
first carefully marking the words requiring the 
chief accent. This marking may be done by under- 
scoring (underlining) each word requiring emphasis. 
He must be careful to let the voice run along easily 
until one of these words is reached: — 

(1) What a piece of work is man ! how noble in reason ; how 
infinite in faculties; in form how moving, how express and 
admirable; in action, how like an angel; in apprehension, how 
like a god! — Hamlet. 

If he still experience difl&culty he may divide the 
words of the sentence into syllables, uttering each 
syllable separately : — 

(2) What a piece of work is man! how no-ble in rea-son; 
how in-fi-nite in f ac-ul-ties ; in form how mov-ing, how ex- 
press and ad-mir-a-ble ; in ac-tion, how like an an-gel; in 
ap-pre-hen-sion, how like a god! 

He must not remain satisfied, however, until he 
has rejoined the syllables into words, for if he has 


been able to pronounce the syllables separately, 
with practice he can pronounce them connectedly 

There is rhythm in all normal activity; it is em- 
ployed in walking, breathing and talking. It as- 
sists the laborer at his tasks, and is as natural as 
the most common thing to sense. 

Many theories for the cure of stammering have 
been based upon rhythm, and in many instances 
they have been helpful. The only diflSculty is that, 
while one is usually assisted in speaking by excess- 
ive rhythm, he may never learn to speak without 
it. Rhythm is a part of all normal speech, but 
must not be too prominently intruded. Therefore, 
where one exaggerates he should do so with the 
purpose of gradually discarding its excessive use, 
or the remedy may become worse than the disease. 
Some have recommended certain rhythmical move- 
ments of the body during speech, uttering a sylla- 
ble at each; but one employing any such device 
should not consider himself safe until the rhythm 
has become mental, and does not require any phys- 
ical expression save that which is natural. 

Take the following lines from Byron: — 

The As-«yr-ian came down like a wolf on the fold. 
And his co-horts were gleam-ing with pur-ple and gold, 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. 
When the blue wave rolls night- ly on deep Gal-i-lee. 

This may first be uttered several times with ex- 
cessive rhythm, and may be accompanied by any 
rhythmical bodily movement 


When it can be uttered with ease under these cir- 
cumstances, repeat the lines, gradually reducing 
the amount of physical movement until the rhjrthm 
exists only in the mind and voice. 

If this be done successfully the verse may be 
transposed into prose as : — 

The cohorts of the Assyrian that came down on the fold, 
were all gleaming with bright colors, like gold and purple. 
They came as a wolf, and their spears shone as so many stars, 
resembling the sea of Galilee at night, with the many lights of 
Heaven reflected in its bosom. 

Many other selections equally suitable for prac- 
tice will readily suggest themselves to the reader. 

The subject of breathing is of supreme importance 
to the stutterer and stammerer, for in the vast ma- 
jority of cases the respiration is not normal. 
Whether this has caused the impediment or is a 
result, it is a constant hindrance to proper speech, 
and when it is remedied good results are sure to 
follow. Without proper respiration good health, 
which is a necessary factor in the cure of speech de- 
fects, is impossible. Close the drafts of a furnace 
and the fire dies out, cut off the air entirely and it 
instantly expires. The same thing is true of a hu- 
man being, and many of us live in a half-smothered 
state because we will not take into our lungs the air 
that is so free. Air, water, and food are the three 
requisites of life. The first is unlimited and ab- 
solutely free, the second is practically so, and 
nature is constantly endeavoring to produce the 
third, and only requires from man a little assistance 
to supply him with an abundance. 


The stammerer, apart from the matter of health, 
has a special need for proper breathing,* since 
much of his difficulty arises from a weakness here. 
He may even breathe well for the purposes of 
health, but not for speech. For the purposes of 
life, good breathing consists largely in getting a 
proper amount of air into the lungs ; the physical 
nature will expel it when it is no longer required. 

Speech, however, is made during exhalation, and 
for the purposes of speech, exhalation, not inhala- 
tion, becomes primarily important. The stammerer 
at times tries to speak during inhalation, and fre- 
quently attempts it when the lungs are exhausted. 
For this reason his face becomes congested; he 
gasps, and his voice dies out. It will be seen that 
rhythm is a necessary factor here, too. Inhalation 
and exhalation must follow each other in regular 
succession, whether the body is active or passive, or 
whether we are speaking or are silent. When the 
stammerer begins to speak his effort deranges his 
breathing, and this again reacts on his speech. 

The stammerer or stutterer uses probably ten 
times the effort necessary in speech, and it is this 
excessive mental and physical effort which results 
in his difficulty. If there are periods when he 
speaks well, it is during those when his mind is at 
ease and when there is no effort. Every sensation 
of the mind has a tendency to gather at the vocal 
organs, and therefore the voice is the most truth- 

* Appndating the yalue of exercises in breathing, the writers have 
srrmnged such forms as will prove beneficial both for stammerers and for 
others interested in the cultivation of the voice. These will be found in 
Part n, and thonld be carried out by the student with faithful regularity. 


f ul expressive agent. This leads to the conclusion 
that speech impediment is primarily a mental diffi- 
culty, and this is the only rational solution. 

But we should remember that the subject has two 
phases. When once we hesitate and stumble we 
are aware of it, we lose a certain amount of con- 
fidence and our voice expresses this, because the 
mind hesitates. Therefore, we may say truthfully 
that stammering lips make a mind disposed to stam- 
mering, and a mind disposed to stammer makes 
stammering lips. Each is a cause and reacts on the 

Now, we cannot get at the mind directly, and 
therefore the best way to remove the difficulty is 
by contracting proper vocal habits, through which 
we must aim to convince the mind that vocalization 
is easy. 

Effort in producing voice usually manifests itself 
in contracted throat muscles, and this results in a 
harsh, throaty tone. The reason is that too much 
effort is directed to this point. A parallel is found 
in teaching gesture. Watch a boy gesticulate when 
explaining something to another; his movements 
are graceful and full of meaning. Now call him 
before the class and ask him to repeat the same 
gesture, and it will be stiff and awkward. It is be- 
cause his attention is centered on it and the muscles 
become rigid. So in voice any effort to speak grips 
the throat and the sound is squeezed through. 

The pupil should eliminate all effort above the 
larynx, save, perhaps, in properly forming the lips, 
and these should assume their positions easily and 
flexibly — not rigidly. 



Several exercises may be suggested : — 

(I) Devitalize the muscles of the neck until the head gently 
drops on the breast, then gently raise it with as little effort as 
possible, meanwhile repeat the vowels. 

(a) Roll the head on the shoulders from side to side with a 
minimum of energy, repeating the vowels, or prolong a single 

(3) Soond a vowel, prolonging it, and endeavoring to imi- 
tate a distant organ-note, smooth and clear. 

Establish this habit of the relaxed throat; and as the voice 
is increased in voltmie, let it be produced by greater chest 

(4) Whisper a A with the throat perfectly relaxed, then 

vocalize the same sound without increased throat effort. The 
ooly difference between the two is that, in the latter the vocal 
bands vibrate. These are involuntary, and the thought of 
speaking sets them in motion. Use every means to eliminate 
effort, or rather to eliminate it from those parts where it does 
not belong. Apply it where it is needed. 

One may read aloud grand, solemn, or beautiful 
passages. Thoughts that are elevating have a tend- 
ency to rolling periods and sonorous utterance. 
Many parts of the Bible, selections from fine poetry, 
and elevated orations furnish excellent exercises. 



THE sounds of the language present all sorts of 
difficulties to different people, but we cannot 
say that there are any certain ones that are hard for 
all. Where one would falter another would utter 
the sound with ease. 

As a rule, however, the consonant sounds present 
the greatest difficulties, as in their utterance the lips 
are brought strongly into play, even to the extent 
of closing entirely at times, while in the utterance 
of the vowels the sound is produced back in the lar- 
ynx, and the muscles of the mouth are not strongly 
active, but are brought into action only in the shap- 
ing of the sound as it escapes. One may notice this 
difference in the action of the lips in pronouncing «, 
^, /, Oy «, and by /, m^ v (their actual sounds, f not 
their names). The same sounds or combinations 
may be difficult for both the stammerer and stut- 
terer. The former sees the difficulty ahead and his 
vocal and articulating organs refuse to perform the 

* Mcthod-of- Attack refers to the mental and physical application of cer> 
tain principles for the purpose of producing aounda, syllables, or words, 
difficult of utterance. 

t The sound of a letter is frequently quite different from its name. For 
example : the name of the letter a is pronounced the same as aye (ever), 
but its sound varies in different words ; in arm the sound of a is ah. The 
name of the letter b is be^ but its sound is what is heard after the closure 
of the lips in pronouncing the word tub. The name of the letter /* is </^ 
but its sound is what is heard in pronouncing laugh after the lower lip is 
brought into proximity with the upper teeth. The name of the letter m is 
em, but its sound is whtft is heard after closing the lips in pronouncing 
Aim. The name of the letter s is es, but its sound is what is heard after 
the vocal cords have ceased to vibrate in pronounciiig the wocdA^ 



task, while the latter attempts the utterance and 
stumbles, repeating the sound over and over again. 
There are some sounds that do not appear to bother 
either, for the reason that whenever possible they 
choose language where these do not occur, fre- 
quently using synonyms, substituting phrases, and 
uttering whole sentences to get around the diffi- 

The vowels in themselves usually give little 
trouble, while consonants, by reason of a closure of 
the passage making a stoppage of sound, present 
many obstacles. At times the vowels seem to cause 
trouble, but it is usually because the speaker is 
made to hesitate by reason of the consonant which 
precedes or follows. To the average stammerer or 
stutterer the difficulties presented may be indicated 
as follows : Frequently difficult, r, /, A, y, /, «, w, 
^, r, J, Vj w, ^, Zy and jA, /A, «^, cA, wh; those most 
often difficult, ^, d^ g (hard), k^ /, /. It may be 
noticed also that it is not always that the difficulty 
arises in pronouncing the individual sound. It may 
require an effort to pass from one sound to another. 
In uttering a consonant the mouth may be entirely 
closed, while the vowels connected therewith re- 
quire an open position. To pass from one sound to 
another with the rapidity required presents an un- 
surmountable obstacle to many. Oftentimes one 
could pronounce a syllable separately, but when he 
sees that it is followed by another that is difficult he 
loses confidence and stumbles on the first. Hence 
it will be seen that hesitancy may be shown in many 
ways, on various sounds, and in various connec- 
tions: but taking the sounds of the language alto- 


gether it will be found that with most persons 
there are only a few which present obstacles, but 
as these are constantly occurring in various words 
one may be impressed with the difficulty of speak- 
ing at all. The remedy is: find these troublesome 
sounds and master their utterance singly, and then 
in combination with others, until the effort disap- 

In general it has been observed that those sounds 
which require a complete closure of the mouth are 
difficult, and these are usually what we may term 
explosives. There are others which have not that 
abrupt quality, but which may be continuous in 
their utterance, like m and «. The former are dif- 
ficult because the lips are brought together during 
their utterance. 

The speech organs constitute a wonderful mechan- 
ism. In the utterance of a single word we fre- 
quently must place the organs in many exact 
positions. These must be assumed quickly, and 
frequently the mouth instantly changes from an 
open to a closed position. 

Stammering is rarely if ever manifested in two 
persons in like manner, nor is the physical mani- 
festation any indication of the abnormal condition 
of the sufferer mentally. In fact, it sometimes hap- 
pens that stammerers of apparently severe mani- 
festation are easily cured ; whereas, on the contrary, 
types of stammering apparently less severe are 
oftentimes more difficult to cure. The manifesta- 
tion, however, is important, as sometimes by work- 
ing from effect to cause, by studying the abnormal 
position of the organs physically, and by substitu- 


ting correct for incorrect positions, the difficulty in a 
measure can be remedied. 

In the suggestion herein contained the writers 
do not wish to convey an idea that the observance 
of any set of rules will cure every case of stammer- 
ing, the idea being only to suggest remedial means 
which, if carefully carried out, will be of permanent 
benefit to the sufferer. It is not in the perform- 
ance of any one exercise contained in this book, nor 
in any other book, nor even through personal in- 
struction, that the cure is to be looked for, but 
rather through the fulfillment of various exercises 
in combination, diligently and persistently carried 

We know of a number of cases of stammering 
that have been entirely cured by the careful exer- 
cise of the will in controlling the organs of speech 
to assume correct positions physically; but as such 
control depends largely upon the letter or syllable 
difficult of enunciation, the Method-of -Attack nec- 
essarily will vary according to the difficulty en- 
countered. There are many persons who stammer 
only on closed consonants, while vowels and con- 
tinuous sounds cause them no hindrance. Again, 
it sometimes occurs that one will stammer only on 
continuous sounds, while the enunciation of closed 
consonants will meet with no obstruction. Thus 
there is a difference among persons who stammer 
with reference to particular sounds, according to 
the mental impression of the sufferer, and therefore 
the method of adapting or placing the organs to 
overcome stammering must vary according to the 
physical manifestations apparent. 



A GOOD rule to follow with reference to the posi- 
tion of the organs, and generally a safe one, is 
to assume the natural position. To better illustrate 
our meaning refer to Fig. i, in which is shown the 
incorrect position of the tongue in the stammerer's 
effort to enunciate words commencing with the let- 
ters /, d^ ch^ J, 

It can be seen by this illustration that the tongue 
is wedged tightly into position behind the upper 
teeth and is forcibly held in that position. The op- 
posite in position naturally would suggest relaxation 
with little muscular effort of the organs. In other 
words, take the position as lightly as possible as 
shown in Fig. 2, by which the reader will notice that 
only the tip of the tongue is pressed lightly against the 

* A closed consonant (as defined in Methoda-of- Attack) is any articulate 
sound in an effort to enunciate which the breath is momentarily obstructed 
in its outward t>assage through the mouth by the organs of articulation. 
Examples : /, d, ch, j\ p, b, k, g, q. 

* A consonant is the result of audible friction, squeexing, or stopping 
of the breath in some part of the mouth (or occasionally of the throat). 
The main distinction between vowels and consonants is, that while in the 
former the mouth configuration merely modifies the yocalixed breath, 
which is therefore an essential element of the vowels, in consonants the 
narrowing or stopping of the oral passage is the foundation of the sound, 
and the state of the glottis is something secondary.*—/^. Sweet. 

NoTB.— Illustrations here shown, representing the correct positions of 
the organs of speech for purposes of articulation, are from Carl Seller's 
" Physiology of Voice and Speech,* by permiasion of the American Syatem 
of Dentistry. 




*Pptr gKms and teeth, in which action there shoald 
be as little effort physically as possible. The remedy 
suggested for words commencing with the letters 
/, d, ch, J must thus be apparent and for words 
commencing with other letters in the enunciation 

of which similar difKculties are manifested. To 
make the solution of the difficulty more readily un- 
derstood, and the selection of letters or words for 
the application of this principle as simple as possi- 
ble, we add that the principle is applicable to all 
words in the enunciation of which, owing to excess- 
ive effort, the breath is entirely obstructed. Thus, 
in addition to words commencing with the letters 


t, d, ch,j (Fig. 1) we can add also words commenc- 
ing with the letters p, b (Fig, 3), as well s& k, g 
(hard), q (Fig. s). 

The correct position of the organs for enunciation 
of words commencing with / and b, in which there 

is a natural inclination on the part of the stammerer 
to use excessive effort, is shown in Fig. 4, while 
the correct position for the gutturals is shown in 
Fig, 6. 


Fi« t-ConecI position of 
Ihf llpt far xbf ennnciB- 
Itonol KDrdiannincnciliB 


datton at the gutti 



In the following poems, letters representing the 
consonant sounds to be attacked are printed in ital- 
ics. Each verse should be read over slowly and 
carefully. See Method-of- Attack for closed conso- 
nantSy page 134. 

From Darkness to Light 

There exist in this r^ec-^ered world of ours, 
As /art of the heri-/age lot-/ed /o man, 

The thistle of woe and ttie flowers 

Of hope, that ^d and ^loom with fra-^ance rare. 
And cAeer life's path where'er they ran. 

7b iifflictions many, weak man is heir; 

They /or-/ure the do-dy, im-/air the mind, 
Res-/rict am-^ition, and furrow with rare 
The ^row of youth, ere the fin-^er of /ime 

The raven locks has r^nced /o find. 

Among the /rou-^les man's ^es-/ined /o ^ear. 
Is one that rrashes, with a ^es-/ot'8 hand, 

The hopes and aims of its vic-/im fair; 

It rules their lives with a merciless /ower, 
And fet-/ers the thought with an iron hand. 

It has robbed the world with a ruthless hand, 

Of men of genius and women of thought; 
While a thousand homes all over the land 
Have ^een saw/ly ^ar->tened and filled with ^ief, 
At the </ire havoc this /rou-^le has wrought 

It res-^ects not s-/ation, nor rank, nor age; 

It hum-^les the rich and the poor as well; 
While on the ^ook of Fame it ^lots the /age 
Of many a youth, whose in-/ellect keen 

Would honor the halls where s-Zatesmen ^welL 


In the world of ^siness, it ^ars the way 
To successful rise and a lawful ^fain; 

While the sha-</ow of ^loom ^rows every </ay. 

Re-/ar-</ing the mind, /fes-Zroying the will. 
Plun-^ng /o wreck the soul of life's /rain. 

A s-/ammering /ongue is this /yrant ^Id 

That </es-/roys the peace and dea,-dens the hope, 
That fet-/ers the s-/eech of ^th young and old, 
Who cAance to have fallen within the bounds 
Of the dtesL-ded </es-/ot's migh-/y s-cope. 

But at last through rourage and force of will. 

With the help of CTod, man has won the fight, 
Z>ethroned the /jrrant, sent a joyfnl thrill 
To the hearts of thousands throughout the world, 
Sup-Planting ^loom with a wel-«)me light 

A Stammerer's Crime* 

I sit u-/on my pnson cot. 

In my cell so dark and lone; 
1 think of the sunshine, the ^rds and the flowers, 

Of my wife, my cMld, and my home. 
I think of the yury, the yudge — ^the man 

I billed with a sin-^le ^low 
^e-rause he /eered, when I covLl-dn't /alk 

i^e-rause I s-/ammered so. 

I know I </id wrong to commit the mme; 

I am sorry I </id, I confess. 
I ran dearly remem-^er the /ar-/ing words 

Of my lit-/le ^augh-/er ^ess. 

* The above poem will be interesting no doubt to the majority of read, 
ers. It would appear from it that the person, wboae identity is unknown 
to us, committed a crime by killing with a single blow a man who mim- 
icked him in his stammering. The poem is well written and pathetically 
portrays in words the feelings of the poor sufferer, whose crime it tells in 


I am sorry /oo for my vic-^m's wife 

And the warm /ears often flow 
For the cMld of the man who peered at me 

^e-<atise I s-/ammered so. 

I am thin->Hng /o-night of my an-^el wife 

Who went home years a-^. 
She is wai-/ing Reside those /early ^tes 

For me /o come, I know, 
^ut alas! lit-/le wife, I cbh never ^ome 

7b your home free from rare and woe, 
For I billed the man who jeered at me 

^e-raose I s-/ammered so. 

Had he deen patient like you, my //ear, 

For I /ried with all my might, 
Had he ^en like you when I /ried /o /alk 

He would de alive /o-night 
Yes, I thought he was my Aosom friend. 

And I ^ore it long, you know; 
Then I murw/ered the man who peered at me 

^e-rause I s-/ammered so. 

One more year and I will de free, 

And then, little ^augh-/er ^ess. 
One more year if my life is s-/ared 

Will end my loneliness. 
Two months — one month; ah! /o-night 

I will from this /rison ^o. 
I have served my /ime for that awful nime 

^e-oiuse I s-/ammered so. 

Two years have passed ; I'm happy now 

As I was in ^ays of yore, 
^ut the face of my //arling is ever missed — 

I shall never see her more, 
^t for that my hap-/iness is com-/lete. 

For a few short months a-^o 
I was aired of the rurse that led me /o Jtm 

The man, when I s-/ammered so. 

. J 


A Parablb 

I wai-/ed at eve by the river, 

The n-owd was /assing near. 
And I ^azed on the hurrying faces 

With feeling a-^Hn /o fear; 
The ^ay was djing westward 

In a ^lory of nimson and ^Id, 
And the flush of the s-Jty and wa-/^r 

Was a /oem of God an-/old. 

I looked at the peo-p\e rushing. 

And won-^ered o*er and o'er 
How many hearts were hap-^, 

And how many hearts were sore; 
I thought that doubtless many 

Were afflic-/ed as I had ^een, 
And I seemed /o hear them sighing 

Like phan-/oms in a </ream. 

My soul went out to help them, 

In /i-/iful earnest grayer, 
As I /ic-Aired their ^ight lives dai-kened 

By s-/ammering ; O ! </epth of des-pair ! 
When a rush of the West wind brought me 

And laid at my very feet 
A half-^ead, ^ea-/en flower, 

Hel-^less and crushed and sweet. 

It lay there mute and ^ro->ten, 

^ut I fancied it seemed /o say: 
<*For the sake of the sweet Christ lift me 

Ere the next wind ^ear me away.* 
Quickly I s-/ooped and raised it; 

I ^shed from it sand and slime; 
I oirried it home and /laced it 

In a slen-^^ vase of mine. 


I /oared in it ^rys-Zal wa-/er; 

I ^aced up the fra-^le form, 
Aod saw in-^eed it was lovely 

before it had met the s-/orm. 
^ut I thought as I fumed and left it: 

Can it ever ^ whole a-^ain ? 
And is all my rare and sorrow 

^es-/owed on it in vain ? 

Time /assed. The ^ys wore slowly 

Ere ^ack A> my room I went; 
^ut I s-/opped on the very threshold, 

Won-^ering what it meant; 
There in its vase of rrys-/al 

S-/ood the flower erect and fair. 
And a fra-,^Tance« sweet as heaven. 

Was floa-/ing in the air. 


I ^azed and ^azed in my gladness 

At the /ure ^row lif-/ed high. 
When the sunlight /ouched its ^lory, 

And lin-^ered in passing by. 
The /ears rose to my eyelids, 

I held them in no ron-/rol; 
Need I say it ? — my s-/orm-/ossed flower 

Was a ^eau-Ziful human soul. 


THE Method-of-Attaclc for the continuoas conso- 
nant sounds is necessarily different from that 
adopted for the closed consonants, for the reason 
that the manifestation of stammering on the lattef 

is entirely different from that of the former. In- 
stead of an absolute obstruction of the breath, as is 

■A conllQuoiu sound (as defined in HethodKit-AtUck) ii any con»- 
nant sound which, when continued, dou not change lU Initial sonnd nor 
the sound ol an; word or syllable of which It tomu ■ part Sxamptn : c 
(■oft),/ t, m, n, r. s. v. u. x, ^. •. sk, Ik, Mk. 







apparent In the enunciation of the closed consonant, 
stammering on the continuous sound is manifested 
by (i) a continuous effort of production, (2) the con- 
tinuation of the initial sound, or (3) the sound of 
escaping breath. It will be found upon trial with 
many of the continuous sounds that it is difl&cult to 
continue their initial sound with the mouth open, 
and thus this method of simply opening the mouth 
after having formed the sound will serve, in many 
cases, as a means of overcoming the difficulty. This 
Method-of- Attack should be always preceded, how- 
ever, by mental relaxation, the opposite of excessive 
desire for utterance. 

The position of the tongue and other organs in 
stammering on the continuous sound of th is shown 
in Fig. 7, the remedy for which has been suggested, 
viz: the opening of the jaws (Fig. 8). In Fig. 9 is 
shown the position of the organs in stammering on 
the continuous sounds of s and z; Fig. 10, their posi- 
tion in stammering on the sounds of sh and zh; Fig. 
II, their position in stammering on the sounds of / 
and v; Fig. 12, their position in stammering on the 
sound of the letter r; Fig. 13, their position in stam- 
mering on the sound of the letter // Fig. 14, their 
position in stammering on the sound of m; Fig. 15, 
their position for the sound of n. For all of the 
above the same remedial means is suggested (see 
Fig. 8). 

If the reader will study carefully the manifesta- 
tions of his impediment, and apply the above sug- 
gestions, much of the contortions of face and body 
generally apparent can be avoided. Our ideas with 
reference to correct and incorrect positions of the 


organs of utterance, if carefully studied, may he en- 
larged upon by the reader. Let him study the cor- 
rect position of his organs for every word upon 
which he stammers, and, by substituting the correct 
position for the incorrect, the difl&culty in a meas- 
ure can be partially if not wholly overcome. 

It is a peculiarity among stammerers that many 
of them stammer only under certain conditions, the 
letter commencing the word having little, if any- 
thing, to do with their stammering, as is shown by 
the circumstance that, under the same conditions, 
they can enunciate perfectly other words that com- 
mence with the same letter. For such persons the 
method referred to (mechanically placing the organs 
in correct positions to enunciate the sounds of letters 
involved) is not so applicable. 

Difficulty in such cases is largely the result of 
lacking confidence, and can be overcome only by 
the substitution of the attitude of bravery. There 
came under the notice of the writers a short time 
ago the case of a man who stammered on only one 
word, the word tzvo. It did not bother him to enun- 
ciate the word to, nor did the word too bother 
him. He stammered on the word used in its nu- 
merical sense only, and when used thus was unable 
to utter it. Another case brought to our attention 
was that of a young man who stammered on his 
own name only. His name, when used as the name 
of another person, did not seem to aflfect him a 
particle, but when self-applied it was most difficult 
for him to enunciate it. Sometimes such persons 
seem to lose all idea of difficulty on particular words, 
only to find that other words of equal difficulty have 


substituted themselves. Cases of this class are en- 
tirely of mental tjrpe, and nothing but institutional 
treatment and personal instruction will serve to 
overcome the difficulty. 


In the following poems letters representing the 
continuous sounds to be attacked are printed in 
italics. Each verse should be read over slowly and 
carefully. See Method-of-Attack for Continuous 
Sounds, page 145. 

Stuttbrino Job 

«Ko-/untecrs wsmtsdl Who's /"irst, I say, to an-xwer fAe 
A^a-/ion*s* call — 

To defend /Ae f-/ag on/b-reign seaa with sword and can- 
non ball — 

To c-rti^ zenith Might a/be-man c-ruel and a-z^enge our 
ifoble J/aine — 

To f-ree a people /ong ens-/aved,f and rend /Aeir bonds 
in t-wain?» 

* Attack according to phonetic production, not according to spelling 
nor syllabic construction. As examples : in the word nations the syllables 
shonld be attacked as though it were spelled na-skunz; in the woT^Jloating^ 
which consists of two syllables, viz:Jloat-tng, it should be attacked as though 
it were spelled, /U>~ting^ because the sound of the letter / preceding the last 
syllable is more likely to cause difficulty of utterance than the vowel sound 
of / in ing. It may be argued by some that the letter t in the above word 
belongs to the first syllable, and that if so affixed it would be unlikely to 
cause difficulty. Stammerer^ however, will realise the fallacy of this ar- 
gument, as it is difficult to pass from the sound of the closed consonant to 
the vowel sound without hindrance. It follows, then, that the Method-of- 
Attack should be planned for the closed consonant preceding the vowel 
utterance, th« latter of itself rarely causing difficulty, unless at the begin* 
ning of a sentence or word. 

t When two continuous sounds come together, attack only the seooad 
one. Example: in enslave, the sound of / follows immedistely after the t. 
Attack only the /. The majority of stammerers find no difficulty in passing 


Thus spake* an of-/i-^er of the Guard, his zd-jage firm 

and g-rave, 
His quiet xmen and steady eye bespoke him t-rue and 


The call rang out both /oud and o-/ear upon the iwor-wing air. 
And th-rilled the b-/ood of vete-rans old as does the t-rum- 

pet's b-/are. 
Then came a hush, ^en paused to ^ee who yirst ikt roll 

would Jign, 
IV hen forth, th&re st-rode a youth, his age but half-a-score- 

MsLU-ly of form. ; with head e-rect he bold-/y p-/aced his 

Way up on /^e/ore-wost /ine of the soldiers* J^eet of/ame. 

WWh wonde-ring eyes Me c-rowd /ookedon; then wonder 

changed to wirth: 
The vo-/unteer was << Stutte-ring Joe,>> a /ad of /ittle worth — 
At /east so /bought the 2/il-/agers — and oft-times sport they 

Of the t-witching/ace and halting tongue, wAile jokes were 

c-ruel-/y p-/ayed. 

But Joe, with quiet »«an-/i-«ess, the tauntingsyailed to heed, 
And met theiv scom-/^ul /aughter with ge-«e-rous act and 

He cared ybr an aged mo-ther until Death's i-ry hand 
Zeft naught to /ove and che-rish but his own, his irative /and. 

Thus when the God of Wslt called A-//ie-ricayorth toyight, 
To stay the hand of opp-res-jion in F-reedom's name and 

from one continuous sound to another, the difficulty usually manifesting 
itself in the inability to pass from the continuous sound to the closed con> 
sonant or vowel. 

*When a closed consonant follows immediately after a continuous 
sound at the beginning of a word, the rule is to attack only the closed con- 
sonant. Example : in spake, the sound of the letter/ follows the continu- 
ous sound of s, in which case attack only the closed consonant. The 
difficulty of stammering in such cases is due to inability to join the ooatia- 
uous sound with the consonant which follows. 


Tke /irst to vo-Zunteer and thefvcsX. who of-/ered to go 
If^th /Ae f-/ag to death or g-/o-ry was Me /ad called <^ Stutte- 
ring Joe. » 

T-mMS eve on a/ield of car-/»age, /^ battle had raged all day. 
Till God in His /ove and mercy had jo^/^tened Me ,ran*s/ierce 

And /Ae t-wi-/ight, gentle but ze/eird, n^as/ading into Me 

As «oise-/ess-/y as a spi-rit pur-mes its hea-2/en-/y f-/ight. 

Just u/here /^ dead /ay /Sickest, 'neath /^/olds of a star-ry 

TAat f-/oated out f-rom a boulder, high up on a jutting c-rag, 
IVas a s-/ender ^outh of grace-/uiyorm and «utb-rown, cur-/y 

JVith hand-5ome b-row and cheek jo Joft *t-«/ould ri-i/al a 

maiden's /air. 

He had car-ried /^ f-/ag Jince mor-;fing, and wAen the 

charge Tvas ^/ade 
Tkt co-/umns of men moved /or-waxd in year-/ess and des- 

pe-rate raid. 
A cheer went up f-rom /Ae Joldiers, as /Aeir ban-ner waved 

on high ; 
TAen a hush — /Ae b-rave /ad /altered and sank '/leath /Ae 

f-/ag to die. 

SAot th-rough /Ae b-reast, /^e boy «^nt down ; but /Ae f-/ag 

tt^aved p-roud-/y still, 
And at jun-jet hour it was f-/oating jup-reme and g-rand 

o'er fAe hill. 
TAen it was seen /or the /irst thaX. iAe hand of «Stutte-ring 

Still g-ripped in death iAe emb-/em of /iberty's wesA or o/oe. 

^nth gentle care tAey /aid him *//cath the Cuban Joil to rest, 
lVAa\e his spirit entered tAe realms of iAose/o-re-ver t>-/est; 
And «ow 'mong /Ae A^a-/ion*s he-roes, who have vo-/unteered 

to go 
Ozi-ward to death or g-/ory, is iAe name of ^ Stutte-ring Joe.* 

—P. R. L. Carl. 


The Broken Seal 

O 7t/onde-rous ^dence, /Aat can make 
TAe stsLm-me-ring tongue to speak« 

Can /oose our bonds, our chains can b-reak 
And bid us ;fow /few p-</ea-Jures xeek! 

WhevQ <?nce ^as Jad-;fess, g-Zoom, despair — 

A^ew /ife, «ew hopes are b-Zoo-iwing /Aere. 

How g-reat /Ae change no one can tell, 
But /Aose whose /ives are c-/ouded o'er 

Ji^ith stam-we-ring — /ate //tat, /ike a spell, 
B-/asts e-z/e-ry /^ught and cries: *A^o more; 

C-/ose up /Ae t-rea-mres of /ke gifted mind. 

And sAun /o-re-ver all mankind. *> 

5uch wsis my doom, Juch my decree; 

I bowed jub-mis-rive to my /ate; 
Hope died, the/uture was a b-/ank to me; 

Zife a chaos none could e-/e-z/ate; 
/x)r j^ears a rec-/use /ife I /ed, 
Ambi-/ion gone and al-most dead. 

W^ealth could «ot b-ring /Ae joy I /eel. 

Not could it buy my joy; 
J'our jdence b-roke /Ae skeptic's seal. 

And b-rought me peace «d-/Aout aWoy; 
And «ow ^ur p-raise my tongue sAaH Jound 
To stam-me-rers all tke world a-round. 


But words, poor ze/ords, can not con-z^y 
T'-Ae /ee-/ings of my heart /or /Aee: 

God b-/ess you — b-/ess you e-very day! 
My humble p-rayer sAaXL be. 

Four work is g-/o-rious — oh, how g-rand — 

T'he stam-me-rer speaks at ^^'our com-mand ! 


THE method of attacking vowel sounds is necessar- 
ily different from that suggested for the conso- 
nants, for the reason that stammering on the vowel 
is manifested by an action of muscles entirely differ- 
ent from that apparent in consonant stammering. 
Vowel stammering might appropriately be termed 
glottis stammering, since the difficulty is usually 
manifested by the spasmodic contraction of the glot- 
tis, or the closing together of the vocal cords. 

To better illustrate our meaning, and in view of 
the fact that the instruction contained in this book 
is intended as a guide for students, many of whom 
no doubt are wholly unacquainted with the anatom- 
ical construction of the vocal organs, we have 
deemed best to demonstrate by means of cuts and 
diagrams the exact location of the larynx, the vocal 
cords, and the glottis ; their relative position one to 
the other, and their action and use during vocaliza- 
tion. To simplify the matter for the student we 
shall avoid, as far as possible, technicalities and un- 
necessary phrases, and shall endeavor to present 
the subject in such a manner as will be easily un- 

A front top view of the larynx is shown in Fig. 
1 6. 

* A vocal or ■otnetimes a whispered sound modified by resonance in 
the oral passage, the peculiar resonance in each case giving to each several 
vowel its distinctive character or quality as a sonnd of speech. 

In the English language the written vowels are a, /, t, 0, «, and some 
times «r and jr. The spoken vowels are much more numerous. — WtbtUr. 


The glottis, or opening between the vocal cords 
AA, is shown at B. The trachea, commonly called 
the windpipe, is shown at D. The line of vision is 
represented from above in the direction of the ar- 
row E. In order to show the throat in this posi- 
tion, it has been necessary, as the cut illustrates, to 
sever the larj'nx horizontally, thus separating from 

Fig. 16.— DUgnimmaticnprHeiititlonoCtlie larynx, ihowlntt Trout tap 
view. C Ifltyni; B, gVXKii-.AA. Tocal cordis A tnchci ; £, line of iridon 
represented from above. 

it the epiglottis, a spoon-shaped cartilage which au- 
tomatically folds down over the opening into the 
larynx during the act of swallowing, thus closing it 
hermetically for the moment. 

The first step in the process of vocalization is in- 
halation. The air is then allowed to return gently 



from the lungs through the bronchial tubes into the 
trachea by a mild exhalant effort until it reaches the 
vocal cords A A. These, during respiration, are 
held apart to allow the air to flow freely through 
the glottis B, between their edges. When vocaliza- 
tion is attempted the glottis narrows until there is 
only a narrow chink, which is effected by the in- 
ward rotation of the arytenoid cartilages to which 
the vocal cords are attached. The narrowing of the 
glottis and approximation of the vocal cords present 
an obstacle to the outflowing current of air; and 
since the vocal cords are slightly stretched, and are 
naturally elastic, they are bulged upward by the 
pressure of air from below until their elasticity 
overcomes the pressure, when they naturally fly 
back into their normal position. The rapidity of 
the vibration thus caused produces sound, which we 
commonly term voice, and which is changed and 
modulated according to the tension of the vocal 
cords and the relative position of the cavities of the 
throat, resonance and tone, of course, depending 
largely upon the position of the mouth. 

The production of a high note is thus naturally 
the result of the vibration of a tense cord, while, on 
the contrary, the production of a low note is the re- 
sult of the vibration of a slackened cord. Cohen 
says: * It is known that if a violin string or a drum 
head be stretched so that its tension is increased, 
the sound it will yield when struck will be higher in 
the scale the greater the tension, while the pitch 
falls as the string or membrane is slackened, because 
of its tension being decreased.* So it is with the 
hnman voice. When the laryngeal muscles stretch 


the vocal cords, increasing their tension, the pitch 
ascends, and when the muscles are relaxed, so that 
the tension is diminished, the pitch falls. If we ex- 
amine the strings yielding the higher tones of a 
piano, we see that they are shorter as their tones 
rise in the scale, and we know that if the length of 
a string on a violin is shortened by placing the fin- 
ger on it, its tone rises in pitch, and that the shorter 
and tighter the string the higher the tone. Thus it 
is apparent that the processes in the human organ 
— stretching and shortening of the vocal bands — 
are the same physically as those employed for rais- 

ing the pitch in artificial musical instruments. The 
physical laws that govern the production of sound 
by the human voice do not differ in any particular 
from the physical laws governing the production 
of sound from any other source. Thus it will be 
seen that the register of tone of the voice depends 
largely upon the approximation or separation of 
the vocal cords — that a high note is produced when 
the cords are tightly drawn together (Fig. 17), and 
that a low note is the result of their relaxed tension 
(Fig. 18). 


Stammering on the vowel is usually manifested 
by contraction of the glottis, or the closing together 
of the vocal cords,* in which position they are 
rigidly pressed together. This is the physical mani- 
festation of vowel stammering, in the same sense as 
the compressed position of the lips is the manifesta- 
tion of stammering on some of the consonant sounds. 
It has already been pointed out that a low tone of 
voice is produced by a relaxed tension of the vocal 
cords, and that a high tone is produced by their in- 
creased tension. This granted, since vowel stam- 
mering is manifested by the contraction of the 
glottis, cannot the reader see that it is always well 
to attack the vowel by lowering the voice, thus 
separating the vocal cords and making the glottis as 
little liable to contraction as possible? Reasoning 
from this hypothesis, we suggest, as a Method-of- 
Attack for the vowels, a lowered tone of voice 
which, if not always an absolute remedy, will 
largely lessen the chances for a recurrence of the 


In the following poems the vowels to be attacked 
are printed in italics. Each verse should be read 
over carefully. See Method-of- Attack for Vowels, 
page 156. 

• SUmmerlni^ on the vowel la not alwmjs manifested bj the contrmction 
of the glottia, as in tome caaea the writers have inTeatigated the difficulty 
haa ahown itaelf aa the inability of the anfferer to vibrate the vocal oordai 
In auch inatances no general instruction can be laid down aa a meana of 
remedy, caaea of thia kind requiring apedal iaatroctloa. 


The Stittte&e&s* Apfuction 

Come, / will show thee an affliction imnumbered among the 

world's sorrows. 
Yet real ^ind wearisome and constant, /mbittering the cup 

of life. 
There be wAo can think within themselves, and the fire 

bumeth at their ^arts,* 
^nd eloquence waiteth at their lips, yet they speak not 

with their tongue. 
There be wAom zeal quickeneth, or slander stirreth to reply. 
Or need constraineth to ask, or pity sendethf ^s Aer mes* 

But nervous dread and sensitive shame freeze the current 

ai their speech ; 
The mouth is sealed as with lead, a cold weight presseth 

an the //eart, 
The mocking promise of power ts once more broken m per- 

^nd they stand /mpotent at words, travailing with imt>om 

thoughts ; 
Courage /s cowed at the portal, wisdom «s widowed ct utter- 
He that went to comfort £S pitied, Ae that should rebuke & 

^nd fools, who might listen and learn, stand by to look 

and laugh; 

* The letter A. being aspirate and followed bj a vowel sound, should be 
attacked as a vowel. 

t Attack continuous sounds and closed consonants in preference to 
vowel sounds, as the latter are rarely difficult of utterance, except as the 
initial sound at the commencement of a sentence. Carrying out this idea, 
the reader will notice that many vowel sounds in the following poems are 
unmarked, preference being given to consonants. As an example: the 
word setuUth which consists of two syllables, via: send-eiJk^ should be at- 
tacked as though it were pronounced sen detk^ as the sound of the closed 
consonant d preceding the last syllable is more likely to cause difficulty 
of utterance than the vowel utterance of eik. Persons who are addicted 
to vowel stammering rarely if ever stammer on a rowel unless they stop 
to inhale before uttering it. 


While friends, with kinder eyes, woonded deeper by oom- 

^nd thooght, finding not a vent, smoldereth, gnawing at 

the ieart, 
^nd the man sinketh in ^s sphere for lack ai /mpty 

There may be cares and sorrows thou Aast not yet con- 

^nd well may thy soul rejoice in the fair privilege oi 

For at /very turn to want a word — thou canst not guess 

that want; 
Ana lack at breath or bread, life Aath no grief more gal- 

^M. P. TuppxE. 

Womanly Convxrsation 

Keep watch en your words, my sisters^ 

For words ore wonderful things; 
They are sweet, like the bees' fresh Aoney; 

Like the bees, they Aave terrible stings. 
They can bless like the warm, glad sunshine, 

^nd brighten a lonely life; 
They can cut in the strife at anger 

Like an ^pen two-/dged knife. 

Let them pass through your lips michallenged,* 

It their errand » true and Idnd — 
It they come to support the weary, 

To comfort and ^elp the blind. 
R a bitter, revengeful spirit 

Prompt the words, let them be fmsaid; 
They may flash through a brain like lightning. 

Or fall an the heart like lead. 

^Tbe letter n ii attacked aa a Towel only when oaed aa a short Towel 
la ancb wocda as «/, mm, etc., while in such words as im». In whkii Its 
iaitlal aonad Is^, it should be atucked as a ooBtlmious souad. 


Keep them, <T they're cold and cra^l, 

^nder bar and lock and seal; 
The wounds they make, my sisters, 

^re always slow to AeaL 
God guard your lips and /ver. 

Prom the time at your ^arly youth* 
May the words that you daily titter 

Be the words at beautiful truth. 

Thi Tongub 

^The boneless tongue, so small and weak. 
Can crush and kill,* declared the Greek. 

^The tongue destroys a greater Aorde,* 
The Turk asserts, ^than does the sword.* 

The Persian proverb wisely saith: 
^A lengthy tongue — an /arly death.* 

Or sometimes takes this form ihstead: 

* Don't let your tongue cut ^,;^our Aead.* 

^The tongue can speak a word wAose speed,* 
Say the Chinese, ^mitstrips the steed.* 

While the y^rab sages this nnpart: 

^The tongue's great store-^ouse A the Aeart.* 

The sacred writer crowns the «/hole— 

^ IVAo keeps Ais tongue doth keep Mb souL* 

Turn Stamicx&xng Bor 

O why j^ the world filled with joy and with pleasure 1 

While sorrow my portion must be ? 
Why M it the sunlight that knoweth no measure 

Doth brighten all nature but me? 


The birds to iheir oomradM «re singihg tlieir gladnass 

With all a£ their God-given pow'rs; 
While alone /am sitting ih sDence and sadness. 

No friends through the long, dreary Aours. 

/dare not complain, though companions all leaye me; 

J/ow can they my presence /n joy ? 
To their sports and their pleasures why should the/ 
receive me, 

A stammering, stuttering boy ? 

.£ach word as a river, ^ach sentence an tfoean, 

Confronts me with terror and fear ; 
lVko~^et /address m my fright and /motion 

Seems ready to mock and to sneer. 

A seems that the words which /need most m speaUag 

^re always the hardest to say ; 
To make plain my meaning / then must go seeking 

Some /ndirect, roundabout way. 

TF in thoughts ai the future /seek consolation, 

What-'/'er /shall choose for my course. 
My impediment rises to check aspiration, 

A stifling, /hsup*rable force. 

But now my dark pathway a radiance brightens, 

A chance at /scape from my doom ; 
An angel at //ope with ^is blest words enlightens 

The gathering, thickening gloom. 

He tells me ot some, in affliction my brotherst 
IVM> from their dread curse were set free; 

What Aas m the past been accomplished by others 
Can now be accomplished by me. 

Hay God bless the work and the great ihstitution 

That loosens the stammerer's tongue. 
Till by all once afflicted this grand revolution, 

This new song at freedom, in sung. 


THE writers wish particularly to impress the reader 
with the fact that it is not the knowledge of any 
one principle for the cure of stammering, nor even 
the knowledge of many principles, that he must 
strive to obtain. He must of course obtain such 
knowledge, but this of itself is worthless. It is in 
every case the application of such knowledge that 
will insure success, and without it no stammerer 
can succeed, nor can he expect that success will re- 
ward his efforts unless he works with tmtiring 

No written or printed instructions can take the 
place of the living teacher in a work of this kind^ 
where discipline is so necessary and where contact and 
association with others in the atmosphere of the Insti- 
tution count for so much. The reader will readily 
understand this^ and thus if his effort to succeed 
through carrying out the instructions herein contained 
is not rewarded with the result looked for^ it should 
serve as no discouragement for further effort. The 
majority of persons addicted to stammering are easily 
discouraged and are prone to look at the discouraging 
side of every undertaking upon which they enter. 

The student in practicing should be especially 
careful not to resort to any manner of expression 
that will impair enunciation or that will appear tm- 
natural. The ideas herein suggested as a remedial 
means for overcoming difficulties in utterance are 


directly opposed to affectation ; the rule with refer- 
ence to the position of the organs being always to 
assume the opposite of the unnatural position — in 
other words, — assume the natural position. This 
principle should be uppermost in the student's mind. 
For example : in the enunciation of the closed con- 
sonant, where the manifestation of stammering is 
excessive mental desire for utterance accompanied 
by physical effort, the opposite to the unnatural is 
suggested, viz: mental relaxation accompanied by 
little effort physically. In the enunciation of the 
continuous sounds, where the manifestation of stam- 
mering is the continuous effort of production, the 
Method-of -Attack implies the opposite to the un- 
natural, viz: (i) mental relaxation as contrasted 
with excessive desire for utterance, (a) physical re- 
laxation of the organs of utterance as contrasted 
with rigidity, and (3) the open position of the jaws. 
The same principle of opposition is applicable to 
the vowel attack. The lowered tone of voice and 
open position of the glottis, as contrasted with the 
high nervous voice and muscular contraction. 

In the enunciation of any word the stammerer 
should plan his Method-of -Attack according to pho- 
netic production. The word wait can be pronounced 
00 ait; the word yes can be pronounced ee ass; the 
word yoke^ ee oke (the initial y being practically 
equivalent to ee). Thus the sentence : Will you waitf 
can be pronounced 00 ill ee 00 atet This manner of 
dividing words does not (if a slightly fricative ele- 
ment is added) in any manner impair their enuncia- 
tion, and will often entirely overcome the difficulty 
of stammering. Other words may be treated timi- 


larly, thus : wh in where is pronounced as though it 
were commenced hoo-wer; sw in swim becomes 
soo-im; the word rest becomes er-est; the word raft 
becomes er-aft. 

From these suggestions the reader can enlarge 
upon the number of examples furnished, and in this 
manner many of the greatest obstacles to utterance 
can be simplified for enunciation. 

In the observance of any rules, or in the practic- 
ing of exercises suggested as a remedy, the student 
should observe that these are merely a means toward 
an end. Any exercise used in connection with a 
method for the cure of stammering would be utterly 
worthless without a knowledge of its purpose ; and 
all exercises, whether breathing, vocal, physical or 
mental, are suggested for the purpose not only of 
exercise, but also of disciplining the muscles to obey 
the commands of the will. Breathing exercises are 
not for the purpose of giving to the stammerer 
greater lung capacity or even greater physical de- 
velopment — true, they accomplish this, but the 
prime object is that of disciplining the muscles to 
respond to the desire of the mind. 

When we can exercise command over every organ 
and muscle concerned in respiration and can obtain 
a ready response individually and collectively from 
such organs — when through vocal exercise we can 
control vocalization, and can produce at will any 
sound or combination of sounds — when through 
physical exercise the mind becomes master, and the 
muscles of the body, servants — when every organ 
of the body is under absolute subjection — then, and 
not until then, will we be able to talk fluently. 





IN TREATING of the Cultivation of the voice, writers 
are more or less hampered by a lack of terms 
having a generally accepted significance. The 
vocal organ cannot be placed in a position where its 
full mechanism may be studied, and where it may 
be seen in actual operation. Besides this, the tones, 
inflections, and qualities which it produces cannot 
be recorded, therefore it is a subject difficult of 
scientific treatment. 

Because of these very difficulties it must be con- 
fessed that a horde of incompetents have set up as 
teachers of voice, covering up oftentimes a woeful 
amount of ignorance by the use of high-sounding, 
technical terms which frequently have a meaning to 
no one save, perhaps, to the person who employs 

But it would be unfair to infer that all who in- 
struct in the art of voice cultivation are of the class 
referred to, since we know of faults which have 
been eliminated, of impediments which have been 
removed under their instruction, and of fine and 
lasting qualities which have developed under their 
guidance. For the purpose of making this distinc- 
tion clearer it may be well to divide these teachers 
into two classes: (i) those whose direct purpose is 
to train the voice to reproduce the accent and speech 
of a variety of people, for the purpose of impersona- 
tion — in other words, for theatrical effect; and (2) 



thost who are endeavoring to study the vocal organ, 
its nature, capacity, and limitations, considering it 
broadly as an organ of sound, and directly as an in- 
strument governed by the physical and mental 
characteristics and requirements of man. 

The pupil under the instruction of the teacher re- 
ferred to in the first class becomes proficient accord- 
ing to his ability to assume the tones of a variety of 
characters and emotions. He must be able to imi- 
tate the nasal drawl of the uncouth, the dulcet tones 
of the lover, the deep bass of the warrior, the gut- 
tural of Shylock, and the whining voice of the beg- 
gar. When he is proficient in these he is carried 
into the realms of the emotions, he is taught to rep- 
resent weakness, age and senility, anger and scorn, 
fawning and denunciation, and so on through 
minute refinements. While all this may be valu- 
able as dramatic training it is unnecessary to state 
that it is impersonation rather than voice cultiva- 
tion, and that in many instances the variety of vocal 
effort called forth, and the many unnatural tones re- 
quired, result in an injury to the vocal organs, and 
in certain cases in a loss of voice. And while this 
treatise will consider the voice in speech almost ex- 
clusively, yet it is proper to state that the above 
criticism applies to many persons who are endeavor- 
ing to teach voice culture for the purpose of song, 
the desire for brilliancy of execution leading to un- 
natural and strained vocal effort, until the voice 
loses its natural qualities and becomes harsh and 

Work in vocal culture could begin with an in- 
quiry as to what kind of sound nature intended the 

XKTltODUCTdltV 171 

vocal organs tinder normal conditions to make. 
Prom as comprehensive an answer to this as possi- 
ble, we may proceed to the more complex problem 
of the capacities and limitations of individual voices. 
During our research we may receive valuable sug- 
gestions from many sources; the world around us is 
full of noise — music, perhaps, if understood. The 
various sounds of nature are attuned to harmony; 
each strikes its own chord and helps to swell the tmi- 
versal melody. But while there is agreement there 
is also difference, and from a comparison of the 
voices of men and the other sounds of nature, espe- 
cially of animate nature, the observant student may 
be able to determine what qualities in man's vocal- 
ity are the exponent of his more primitive or animal 
nature, and those which differentiate him from all 
the lower orders and place him on an eminence as a 
reasoning, intelligent, godlike being. 

When we begin to consider individual voices we 
shall regard them from several points of view: first, 
as voice; second, as a voice emanating from an 
organ of peculiar construction ; and third, as the ex- 
ponent of a certain intelligence, habit, and tempera- 
ment Prom this it will be seen that the true 
teacher of voice development, like the skilled phy- 
sician, must diagnose his case, and that no quack 
with a specific warranted to cure all cases can 

It is a fact well understood, that for singing very 
few persons have voices capable of that develop- 
ment which is necessary to professional work. The 
great singer is gifted naturally with fine vocal qual- 
ities, which no method nor any amount of training 


can originate, but simply which they may train and 
develop. And while almost all persons have the 
gift of song, very few, even by the most assiduous 
attention, ever rise above mediocrity. 

But the voice in speech is different. Since it is em- 
ployed in every relation in life, and since its use is 
constantly necessary, it is one of the easiest powers 
to acquire and is almost universal. Most men 
speak understandingly ; many men speak well, but 
very few have even a slight appreciation of their 
vocal ability under proper cultivation or of its as- 
thetic and practical value. Almost every one has a 
good voice for the purpose of speech. Practically 
all voices may be made what may be termed pure. 
They may have a pleasant musical quality and a 
pleasing and desirable flexibility. Then, too, it is 
rare indeed that a voice of sufficient power to reach 
throughout all ordinary audiences may not be de- 
veloped. The only hindrances are extreme physical 
weakness or abnormal structure of the vocal organs. 

In vocal work both teacher and pupil are brought 
at times into close relations with the members of 
the medical profession, and in such cases mutual 
understandings are necessary if the proper results 
are to be achieved. We commend the noble work 
of surgery and the invaluable service of the med- 
ical practitioner ; but there is a large class of cases 
in which the voice has been injured by improper 
vocal effort, where neither doctor nor surgeon can 
afford any relief. In such cases the voice specialist 
who knows his business should be appealed to, and 
he should proceed upon the theory that a restoration 
of the normal habits of speech will eradicate the 


physical difficulty. In certain cases the physician 
or surgeon and the voice specialist may work to- 
gether, since normal and reasonable use of the vocal 
organs tends towards the health of those organs. It 
is true that in these cases the teacher must be a 
scientific voice specialist, since overtraining and an 
unnatural use of the voice for impersonation would 
result in injury. The vocal teacher bears the same 
relation to the health of the vocal organs as the 
competent physical instructor does to the general 
physical health. 

Systems of breathing and of vocal exercises are 
often misleading and sometimes even harmful. 
They should be given, like drugs, to accomplish a 
specific object. They may be multiplied and made 
complex to the mystification of the student without 
accomplishing any other purpose. Let the teacher 
decide, and let the pupil insist on knowing, what is 
the particular end to be accomplished, and then ex- 
ercises to meet that end may be employed. Exer- 
cises for voice development or for correcting faults 
of breathing, •warranted as good for all,* are like 
the specifics of medical quacks which are guaran- 
teed to remove •all* human ailments. With the 
above observations in mind, which the student will 
do well to carefully consider, we shall proceed to 
discuss the various points deemed necessary for a 
cultivation of the voice in speech. 

The chief parts of the vocal organ, and those 
largely subject to control, are shown in Fig. 19 on 
the following page. 

The dotted line indicates the jaw dropped down- 
ward and outward; this opens the throat and draws 




the tongue forward and downward, leaving more 
space for the passage of sound at its back and 
above. This gives a clearer, more resonant tone. 

When the soft palate is drawn upward the stream 
of air is cut off from the nose and nasal resonance 
is lost. 

The arch of the hard palate forms a resonance 
chamber into which the sound may be thrown to 
gain reinforcement 

The larynx may be drawn backward and down- 
ward, giving the sotmd fuller and deeper resonance. 

The sound escapes through both the nose and the 
mouth and unites to form the sound we hear. Good 
voice depends upon the proper blending of the two. 


SOMEWHERE in the chain of development whose 
last link is man the voice came into existence. 
Probably it was heard in the swamps and forests 
ages before man existed. Accepting the classifica- 
tions of scientists of the various forms of animal life 
from the lowest to the highest — from the jellyfish 
to man — we see that the lower forms have no 
known method of expression — certainly they do not 
have voice. Beyond this the measure of vocal ex- 
pression is the measure of intelligence. Compare 
the two or three sounds of swine with the varied 
vocality of the dog, the dog's ability with that of 
the ape, and then take that immense stride between 
this animal and man, and the truth becomes appar- 

Expression comes not as a prearranged matter, 
but as a necessity. It grows out of knowledge and 
a variety of ideas and sensations. If the evolution- 
ary theory be correct, then there was a time when 
man chattered with little more variety and purpose 
than the ape of to-day. But as he grew in intelli- 
gence he became a reasoning being and began to 
transmit the product of his knowledge to his chil- 
dren — language developed as a natural and neces- 
sary consequence. The reason is apparent, since 
an idea cannot live and have general acceptance 

without the employment of symbolism. It is also 



true that an individual who would give form to his 
varying thoughts and emotions must be in posses- 
sion of language. Then, when we consider the na- 
ture of man and that one of his strongest impulses 
is to impart knowledge, we understand how the 
search for accurate and expressive symbolism has 
been going on through all the ages. 

Only the animal cries of man are intuitive, the 
rest are learned. Many of us have a tone vocabu- 
lary that is neither extensive nor exact. Proper 
voice culture should remedy this defect Thought 
and feeling can call forth only the expressive pow- 
ers we possess — they cannot instantly create new 
ones. If we wish to thoroughly understand the 
voice and to master its use we must study it 
Everything has its preparatory work, but to be- 
come proficient in any line our study and training 
must extend specifically to that line. 

Man is a being with many agencies of expression, 
and in developing them he widens the scope of his 
mental activities. A language of limited vocabulary 
denotes a people of circumscribed intellectual at- 
tainments, and as a rule the individual may be 
judged similarly. In brief, we measure men by 
what they say and do or by expression. It is only 
by this that we even comprehend each other. What 
we feel we strive to express, and excursions into 
new fields of investigation and the development of 
new ideas are constantly making necessary a further 
enlargement of the language. These new forms are 
left us in literature and art, and thus succeeding 
generations become richer by inheritance. Were 
these not recorded there could be no progress, since 

S9— 12 


each generation would have to begin where the pre- 
ceding one began. And thus literature has been 
the means of our wonderful development through 
the last few centuries. 

Unfortunately, however, words only are recorded; 
the tone, look, gesture, and manner refuse to be 
committed to the page. True, there are those 
around us who are uttering similar sentiments, and 
by instinct we may give to the sentiments of a 
former period their proper interpretation. But 
there is a safer and surer guide, and it lies in the 
accurate study of the voice. The tones and actions 
of men are fundamentally not the product of imita- 
tion nor of convention — they are innate and exist in 
all men in common. To utter our own crude senti- 
ments requires no art, no training. It is only when 
we come to express sentiments of our higher na- 
tures that are the result of education and conven- 
tion, and when we endeavor to imitate others, that 
study of the forms of expression and vocal cultiva- 
tion becomes desirable. This knowledge we do not 
inherit, language and art must be studied before we 
may come into possession. The words of books re- 
ceive significance one by one as the original ideas 
which inspired them are retraced and comprehended 
anew. The mind is not a beggar living on alms, 
but is a worker constantly producing and reproduc- 
ing. And, therefore, anything to be of value must 
be grasped, vitalized, and understood in all of its 
relations before we may be said to understand it. 

Perhaps the most primitive form of expression in 
both animals and men consists in vocalization. 
Higher orders of intelligence create new forms, 


most of which are arbitrary and fixed, but their 
origin is still shown by the retention of those mere 
animal cries which constituted the language of their 
progenitors. These sounds we make intuitively. 
They are rarely uttered in their crude forms, but in 
a more refined manner suitable for speech. Lan- 
guage is as much a matter of convention as is dress; 
each has certain natural requirements, but beyond 
this it becomes a matter of convention and taste. 

Each musical instrument has its own peculiar 
quality; it may produce almost infinite variety, but 
any one note is sufficient to inform us just what in- 
strument it is. The human voice, too, has its own 
native quality and nothing can successfully imitate 
it. It is obvious, therefore, that one musical in- 
strument cannot do the work of another, and that 
the culture of the voice should be along the lines of 
its natural capacity, with an idea of avoiding its nat- 
ural limitations. A voice naturally a tenor cannot 
be transformed into a good bass, any more than an 
organ can do the work of the flute. A voice may 
be ruined in the attempt to make it over into one 
which we admire. The human voice in general has 
its own natural qualities, then each individual voice 
presents its own peculiarities. These facts must be 
understood and the voice trained within its own 
native sphere to accomplish the desired result. 

The voice of the human being is peculiarly his 
own — machines may reproduce and birds may im- 
itate but neither can originate. The first sounds 
made by the calf, the lamb, and the human infant 
differ but little in quality, but from the first they 
begin to diverge until there is soon left but little 


resemblance. In them all the sound of short a is 
prominent. This is usually preceded by some con- 
sonant which is due to the preliminary formation of 
the mouth, to inhalation or exhalation. When the 
sound begins before the lips are opened it will prob- 
ably be the nasal sound of w, and this followed by 
the sound of a makes the cry of ma. When the 
sound starts before the lips are opened, and is not 
thrown through the nose, a subvocal results, which, 
when the lips are opened, is recognized as b^ and 
this followed by a makes the well-known cry of ba^ 
and then we find the a combined with a number of 
consonants. These cries will be recognized in 
several species of animals in common with the hu- 
man infant. But the superior intelligence of the 
latter carries it further, and other consonants are 
prefixed and suffixed, then the vowel is modified 
until we have the whole range of vowel sounds, and 
finally the human language. The superiority of 
man is shown by the fact that his vocal ability is 
always progressing, while the animal voice develops 
in nothing save volume. 

This first infantile cry is the basis of speech. It 
contains the primary sound of the human larynx. 
In time we learn to place the organs of speech in 
varying positions, thus modifying the oral cavity 
and changing this primitive vocal element into all 
the vowels. In making the sound of short a, if the 
mouth is partly closed long a will result; by a fur- 
ther opening we shall produce Italian a and finally 
broad a. The larynx simply produces a sound 
which is changed from vowel to vowel by various 
changes in the oral cavity. 


The sounds made by the infant are mere animal 
cries, they are not the result of thought and pre- 
meditation. They are the involuntary forms of ex- 
pression that exist in animals other than man. It 
is interesting to consider their points of resem- 
blance. They, too, would have speech had they in- 
telligence, since their vocal organs are physically 
as perfect as those of men. The infantile cries are 
the language of sense-impressions, too, and when 
they are so acute as to dominate us, and when rea- 
son and habit are eliminated our expression returns 
to its primitive form. This tendency is well marked 
among all classes of men, even ¥nth the most highly 
educated. And even when physical feeling is con- 
trolled by higher intelligence and expresses itself in 
arbitrary words, there is something in the tones 
that is in harmony with the more primitive utter- 
ance. Then, too, we have thoughts and emotions 
that are merely aesthetic and are not the immediate 
result of sense impressions; in expressing these our 
tones are still further modified, but in kind yet re- 
semble the first. These primitive cries, then, are 
the basis of human speech. That from them we 
create and develop a wonderful language shows the 
marvelous mental activity of man and the tendency 
of the physical being to adapt itself to the require- 
ments of intelligence. We may illustrate the fore- 
going ¥nth the following examples: First, sense 
impression — an idiot in physical distress will 
groan, •Oh.* Second, an intelligent man under 
the same condition may exclaim, •Oh, I am very 
ill!* Here formal words are used, but the tones 
will resemble the first. Third, Hamlet, not in phys- 


ical pain but in mental distress, may exclaim, ^ Oh, 
what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! * His voice, 
too, in a degree resembles the more primitive man- 
ner of expressing pain. The tones are alike in kind 
in the three examples. 


IT IS unfortunate that teachers have been somewhat 
loose in the emplo5rment of their terms in the 
consideration of oral utterance. To illustrate : voice 
is a term at times applied to the sound that ema- 
nates from the vocal organs and at other times to 
the organs themselves. 

In order to avoid confusion in the mind of the 
student it will be well to come to an understanding 
of the sense in which certain common terms are 
used in this part of the work, for many words have 
both a general and a restricted meaning, according 
as they are popularly or technically used. 

Language^ speaking broadly, is any method by 
which human beings communicate with each other. 
Still more broadly it may signify the acts of inani- 
mate objects, as, the language of flowers, or the 
elements speaking to man, as, the voice of the 
wind, or it may be employed to represent the sup- 
posed intercommunications of animals. Therefore, 
it will be seen that it is a very broad term, and 
should be employed only in a general way. 

Voice is the sound which is emitted from the lar- 
ynx ; a whisper is not voice, since the sound is made 


by air vibrations in the mouth, neither is a whistle 
voice, nor a cough, since neither is produced by the 
full vibration of the vocal cords. Animals usually 
have voice but not speech, since they do not shape 
the vocal element into articulate sounds. 

Speech is used frequently as a synon)mi of lan- 
guage, but this is erroneous, and confusing to one 
who desires precision in the use of terms. Speech, 
properly considered, refers to that form of language 
where the element of communication is vocality. 
It comprehends articulate utterance. While voice 
is an element it is not the only one, since this ele- 
ment must be formed into distinct sounds with an 
accepted meaning. 

A word is a definite articulate sound, of a specific 
vocal quality and quantity, and which is understood 
to represent a particular idea. Therefore, a printed 
sjnnbol in a book is not a word — those characters 
simply represent words and are only the symbols by 
which words are suggested. Only when breath es- 
capes through the larynx, setting the vocal bands in 
vibration, and the sound which results is articulated 
so that it is recognized as the symbol of a peculiar 
idea, may it be called a word. Perhaps we may say 
that one who reads silently is calling words, but 
these are only imagined, and in any case the symbol 
which suggests an idea is not necessarily a word, 
since, if it were, the dots and dashes of the Morse 
telegraph system, or a painting, or bit of sculpture, 
would also be regarded as a word. 

Voice is a sound produced in the larynx by the vi- 
bration of the vocal cords, and modified and enlarged 
by the resonance chambers of the mouth and nose. 


Speech is voice articulated into symbols which are 
recognized as representing certain ideas. 

A word is a single vocal sound or a combination 
of sounds in a group, which represents an idea. 

Most animals are capable of producing voice, but 
only man has speech, yet at birth the human infant 
shows no evidence of greater vocal ability than 
other animals. Its cry for a time is monotonous 
and unvarying. It is only as it advances in intelli- 
gence that its vocal ability develops. It would 
never develop speech if left to itself, or if it associ- 
ated only with mutes. But at this stage there is a 
dawning of intelligence, the faculty of imitation 
which is especially strong in infants is awakened, 
and besides this there is a development of mental 
and physical life, which promotes expression and 
urges the child on to the struggle. It imitates a 
sound when in its mind it is associated with an idea, 
and rarely forgets that association when it is once 
established in its mind. It even repeats words that 
to it are meaningless, for the sake of imitation. 
But those words to which it attaches a meaning are 
more attractive and are the ones most likely to be 
remembered. In a few years it learns that words 
are combinations of sounds, it masters the elements 
composing them, and is then in a position to en- 
large its vocabulary should its mental life require 
it. It sees those elementary characters combined 
in a manner never before brought to its attention ; 
it gathers the meaning of the symbols from the con- 
text, or from other written sjnnbols, and, therefore, 
it may utter a word intelligently and fearlessly that 
it has never heard spoken. Now all the elements 


necessary to the fullest use of language are present, 
and the rest is only a matter of development. 

But what is the power which takes the limited, 
crude cries of the child and from them fashions the 
marvelous variety of human speech? It is intelli- 
gence, and only this. An idiot in perfect bodily 
health and having well-formed vocal organs will 
never develop intelligent speech. A feeble-minded 
child will never speak more than a few words, and 
these crudely, while the person of mental keenness, 
education, and activity will increase his vocabulary 
daily until he has words to accurately express not 
only general ideas but also all their subtleties and 

This emphasizes the idea, then, that intelligence 
and mental culture are at the bottom of all vocal 
development, and it is only truth to declare that, 
properly imderstood, vocal culture is primarily a 
mental matter. True, it is the result of certain phys- 
ical activity: there must be a good instrument, but 
the instrument without intelligence would be a dis- 
cordant thing whose sounds would be mere blatant 
noise and purposeless discord. 


AT THE outset the student of voice must have 
some adequate appreciation of the various 
qualities of sounds which enter into articulate 
speech — the problems will be greatly simplified 
thereby. The first division comprehends vowels 


and consonants, only the former being directly the 
elements which enter into the matter of voice pro- 
duction. A proper utterance of the consonants be- 
comes necessary for accurate and refined speech, 
but they are not, strictly speaking, vocal elements. 

The vowels have been variously described, but 
perhaps their nature may be better understood by a 
general description. They are those elementary 
sounds which are produced by a vibration of the 
vocal bands. They are the open sounds. As dis- 
tinguished from consonants they may be uttered on 
various pitches, with varying degrees of force, they 
may be inflected or prolonged for considerable 
periods, and, finally, they take on varying minor 
shades which have been variously designated but 
which may be termed tone color. Most of the shad- 
ing and variety of speech are due to the vocal 
elements, while the consonants, being fixed and arbi- 
trary, serve the simple purpose of completing and 
rounding out words so that they may reach the un- 
derstanding. A beautiful song may appeal to us, 
even though the words are in a foreign tongue. The 
vowels constitute a language of tone, which in its 
broader sense is understood by the whole race, and, 
therefore, in music these elements are made promi- 
nent and are emphasized in various ways. 

Consequently, too, in speech that appeals to the 
feeling, that touches those primary and universal 
emotions of the human breast, the vowels become 
especially prominent, while the consonants, as we 
have said, but complete and round out the words 
for the understanding. In ordinary intellectual 
discourse the ideas are best conveyed by the plain- 


est and simplest symbolism, and consequently the 
best expression consists in a simple vocal utterance 
where all elements are spoken with equal distinct- 
ness with the purpose simply of reaching the under- 
standing. But in the expression of lofty ideals, 
thrilling sentiment, and all sentiment reaching 
the emotions, we magnify the element of tone 
which exists in vocality, and by the use of this pri- 
mary and universal language convey an adequate 
impression. We may reach, then, the same con- 
clusion which Sir Morrell Mackenzie reached, ^that 
the beauty, rhythm, and power of the human voice 
lie in the utterance of the vowels.* 

The vowels consist in variations and modulations 
of one primary sound. When the stream of escap- 
ing breath is set in vibration the sound immedi- 
ately resulting is not the human voice as we hear it, 
any more than the sound produced by twanging a 
violin string stretched in open air is the note of the 
violin. The sound makes its escape from the nasal 
and oral passages, and these undergo modifications 
of form and extent. Now, when there is a certain 
position of the organs of the mouth while this pri- 
mary sound escapes it receives some modification, 
and immediately is recognized as a certain definite 
vowel. Look into a mirror while pronouncing suc- 
cessively the vowels, a change in the oral cavity 
will be noticed for each. Endeavor to give more 
than one without change of position and it will be 
found impossible. 

The vocal elements are the vowels a, ^, t, ^, if, 
with the diphthongs 00^ oi^ ou. It may be stated 
that some of the so-called vowels are diphthongs. 


and that oo is not strictly a diphthong, bnt for prac- 
tical purposes it does not matter. These vowels arc 
divided into two general kinds, named long and 
short. These are, however, only names and are not 
descriptive of their quantities. Then they have 
other sounds, particularly of a^ besides some rare 
sounds of e^ o, and u. But from the standpoint of 
production it will be observed that they may be 
divided into three general groups, which, according 
to Webster, may be marked as follows : — 

(i) Uttered by a single impulse, with little lip movement, 
but with stroke of jaw: e, t\ e, u. Throat nearly closed; sound 
apt to be harsh. 

(2) Slight movement of lips, with stroke of the jaw, a, 
a, a, a, t. Throat more open ; sound less harsh. 

(3) Strong lip movement combined with jaw movement; 
o u 00 00 oi ou. Throat well open ; sotmd smooth and clear. 

It is not meant that the above classification is ex- 
haustive nor that the grouping is absolute, but it 
will help the student to understand the qualities of 
each sound and the general requirements in produc- 
ing it. 

Now a few suggestions of primary importance 
should be observed, and these are fundamental, 
and apply to the whole course of study for vocal 

The general movement in opening the mouth for 
oral utterance should be up and down, and not from 
side to side. The latter tends to give a sharp, harsh 
quality to utterance, which is unpleasant to the ear 
and tiresome to the throat. This is particularly 
true in the utterance of / and e; if one notices the 


mouth position of a speaker when tittering these he 
may know what the sound of all the vowels will be. 
As generally uttered, perhaps these are the harsh- 
est, and this is due to a rigid setting of the jaw, 
the widened mouth, and a resultant rigidity of the 
pharynx. As far as possible, then, so far as the 
sound will allow, open the mouth perpendicularly, 
not horizontally. 

Open the lips flexibly, not rigidly ; let every or- 
gan take its exact place, quickly and easily ; a mini" 
mum of effort to accomplish, the result is the ideal. 
With many, the muscles controlling the lips are 
stiff and lifeless. Under such circumstances they 
need cultivation. This may be had through a 
variety of exercises, some of which we shall give 

Remove all effort, or strain, at and above the lar- 
ynx during vocalization. With many persons there 
is a physical effort which grips the throat muscles 
during speech, causing the sound to be rasping, and 
frequently resulting in permanent sore throat. The 
effort should be on the motor organs which control 
inspiration and expiration — not in the larynx or 
pharynx. With many, this effort has become an 
unconscious one, and it is difficult to eliminate. 

Speak from a raised chest and a well-poised head. 
This does not mean a chest expanded to its full 
capacity nor a rigid poise of the head, but a position 
that is active and easy. The lungs may be cramped 
by drooping shoulders, and the vocal apparatus 
stifled by a drooping head. 



HE most important thing in all expression is the 
proper distribution of effort. Too much mus- 
cular effort is sure to produce an unpleasant sound; 
in fact, the whole question of proper voice production 
is one of economy. This principle is exemplified in 
all physical activity. One at ease does what is re- 
quired — not more. The backward youth, who 
blunders when in a strange environment and ap- 
pears awkward, has his attention so centered upon his 
action that every movement is stilted because of undue 
physical effort which results in rigidity. We talk best 
when we feel our competency and when the effort 
is not directed to producing grammatical accuracy. 
A difficult task is performed best when there is that 
confidence which precludes undue attention to the 
performance. Any one can walk a four-inch plank 
in a ffoor, but place this same plank across a deep 
chasm and the task will probably become impos- 
sible. The reason is that in the latter case there is 
an undue strain on the locomotor muscles which in- 
terferes with their normal action. Every muscle is 
rigid, the joints are bound together as with cords, 
and there is a total lack of that flexibility which 
would render the task perfectly easy. All of the 
above is peculiarly applicable to speech. Most 
young speakers are nervous and embarrassed, and 
this is shown immediately in the voice. The mo- 
ment the speaker becomes aware that there is vocal 
difficulty, such as hoarseness or indistinctness of 

EFFORT 19 1 

Utterance, he makes an effort to remedy the difficulty, 
but the result is extra strain on the organs. Con- 
sciously or unconsciously he is impressed that the 
fault lies in the larynx or in the organs above, and 
he directs his attention there, but he does not un- 
derstand that too much effort in this region is what 
has caused the difficulty, though such is undoubtedly 
the case. 

He must now begin to practice along new lines, 
for the purpose of eliminating all unnecessary effort 
in the throat. A given tone made with a minimimi 
of effort should be the ideal. This will bring him to 
study the general structure of the vocal machine 
and the peculiar function of the various parts. He 
need not take a course in anatomy, but such knowl- 
edge as he already possesses will probably be suffi- 
cient. He will readily understand that the breath 
is taken in and again expelled by means of certain 
muscles of the waist and abdomen. He will proba- 
bly recall that the diaphragm is a great muscle 
dividing the chest cavity from that of the abdomen. 
Hence, he must appreciate the fact that the motor 
power of vocalization dwells in the agencies which 
control breathing. Now let him consider the vocal 
machine proper, 1. ^., those organs from the larynx 
upward, as parts which in a sense perform a nega- 
tive function. True, the vocal cords are stretched, 
but this is done involuntarily, and all other action 
consists in placing the organs in such a position as 
to least obstruct or interfere with the escape of 
the sound. 

Exercise /. — Sit erect; easily relax all the muscles of the 
neck and throat until the head drops to the chest (Don't force 


it ) Now exert just enough effort to slowly raise the head and, 
with the muscles thus devitalized, prolong Ok, 

Repeat the exercise on all the long vowels: a, e, t\ o, u. 

Exercise 2. — Place the hands on the muscles of the neck at 
the sides ; make the muscles rigid, then relax them until they 
are perfectly soft and flexible; repeat the same sounds. 

Exercise j. — Roll the head from, side to side, simply letting 
it fall without muscular effort, bring it easily erect and repeat 
the sounds above. 

Exercise 4. — Repeat the same sounds while the head is 
moving as above. 

Exercise j, — Sit indolently in a chair; relax the whole 
body; see how indolently you can count ten, or repeat the 
vowels, or read a couplet. 

Exercise 6. — Stand erect; relax all the muscles of the throat 
as before but with chest easily expanded ; pronounce all the 
vowels firmly. 

Exercise 7. — In the same position speak the vowels with 
full force with the throat muscles (internal and external) 
devitalized, but with strong chest action. 

Set aside certain periods of the day for this work. 
Ten minutes at a time is sufficient, and two or three 
periods every day will accomplish much. 

When you feel that you have mastered the princi- 
ple indicated above, and that it has become a part 
of your speech, extend it to the productions of 
sounds requiring considerable force. Taking the 
above exercises, gradually enlarge the sounds, en- 
deavoring to keep an open and relaxed throat. 
Meanwhile the chest will become active and the 
muscles which control respiration will act vigor- 
ously, but do not allow this activity to be extended 
to the larynx and the organs above. 

It may be well to explain why this is so essential 
to proper vocal culture. Among public speakers 
there are numerous complaints of difficulties in the 


throat, and these are attributed to the use of the 
voice. Broadly, they may be classed as • clergy- 
man's sore throat,^ and the percentage of speakers 
suffering from some form of this complaint is very 
large. It is a fact, nevertheless, that most of these 
troubles are unnecessary and could have been 
avoided by normal methods of speech, and in most 
instances they can be removed only by correcting 
faulty tone production. To give the voice a rest 
will not assist in bringing about a cure, since when 
active work is resumed the difficulty must at once 
manifest itself. When the trouble has been super- 
induced by improper vocal usage, only proper voice 
production will cause it to disappear. In such a 
case medicines and surgery will be of no avail, and 
our leading physicians have come to realize this 
fact. True, in any case there may be physical ail- 
ments which help to aggravate the difficulty. In 
such cases the vocalist and the physician should 
work in harmony, neither usurping the functions of 
the other. 

But voice should be properly trained for its own 
sake. Surely as much value is to be attached to a 
pleasant voice as to the tone of a piano, yet people 
utterly indifferent to the former are sensitive to the 
latter. A clergyman who thinks voice training af- 
fectation, and that one voice is as good as another, 
will make every effort to raise money to purchase a 
fine pipe organ, and yet his voice conveys the 
greater message. We recognize the language 
of tone in every sound that we hear, and noises ap- 
peal to the understanding as much as objects 
appeal to the sight. When we hear rasping, 



rattling, or grating noises we form an idea of the 
agencies which produced them, and understand that 
a harsh, rasping voice is the language of something 
unpleasant. True, one may be effective in spite of 
a poor or even a harsh delivery, yet who will claim 
for the delivery in such a case the honor for the 
effect produced or deny that a faultless delivery 
would have enhanced the effect. 

Voice culture does not aim at theatrical effect. 
The idea should be to discover just how nature evi- 
dently intended that the instrument should be exer- 
cised, and then to bring our habit in accordance 
with this ideal. A bad voice is untrue to nature. 
It violates the laws of physiology, and therefore one 
who uses it is untruthful and unnatural to a degree. 
To produce voice properly requires good health, and 
on the other hand proper vocalization is an impor- 
tant factor in securing or maintaining good health. 

But let us observe here that much vocal cultiva- 
tion (cultivation so called) is both unnatural and 
injurious. Its value depends to a great degree upon 
the object of the instruction or upon the exercises. 
The usual method contemplates certain forms of 
expression desired and seeks to cultivate voice to 
that standard. It is theatrical, and has for its only 
object the portrayal of certain sentiment, whether 
that is normal or abnormal, natural or unnatural. 
Another idea concerns itself with a rational and 
scientific study of the voice along its physical side, 
and observes the laws of acoustics and the language 
of sound. It seeks to place voice in its true light 
as an instrument, and endeavors to understand its 
nature and to ascertain its powers and its limita- 


tions. This compels a study of voice as voice^ and 
excites the belief that when it is developed along 
the lines of its own natural capacities, keeping in 
mind its limitations, it will be a fitting instrument 
for the expression of worthy sentiment and for all 
characteri2^tion that is normal. 

This view of voice cultivation excludes all mouth- 
ing and ranting which have been thought to be 
necessary incidents of voice culture. It condemns 
bellowing and shrieking and spectacular exhibitions. 
It also discountenances the deliberate practice of 
those qualities which are impure and unnatural and 
which are studied only for purposes of exhibition. 

Many students of voice are confronted with some 
nine qualities, which are elaborately described, while 
under each is a series of extracts in which the par- 
ticular quality is to be employed. One division dis- 
cusses pure voice, and the extracts are read by the 
student for the purpose of acquiring this quality 
and of eliminating all impurities. When this has 
been mastered, another division is confronted under 
which various impure qualities are described, and 
these are followed by examples which are intended 
to afford exercise. In these, pure tones are re- 
garded as faults, and a premium is placed on various 
forms of harshness and nasality. This method of 
study is unscientific and unnatural, and does not 
tend to establish good habits of vocalization. As 
well teach a child both good and evil as to teach 
both pure and impure, normal and abnormal, vocal 

This treatise will consider but one general quality 
of voice, which may be designated as pure, or that 


form that is made as nature intended it should be, 
or, negatively speaking, one that is not unnatural 
and that does not violate the laws of physiology. 

To secure the desired end the ability to produce 
proper tones must merge into habit. We never use 
an instrument well while we are conscious of en- 
deavoring to learn its nature and are experimenting 
with it. Proper speech should come to our lips as 
naturally as we use our muscles in walking, and 
only when we have established this habit may we 
feel sure of having a good voice. Proper habits of 
vocalization are not like garments, to be used on 
state occasions and then laid aside — they are not to 
be called forth in a discourse and then put by. They 
should be made a part of ourselves, and therefore not 
put on, but developed from within. And it may be 
said that when one has pursued vocal study along 
rational lines he will have established a habit so 
much a part of his nature that he can put it ofif no 
more easily than he can return to his primitive form 
of locomotion — on all fours. Every bit of conver- 
sation, every public utterance, will give his powers 
exercise, and there will exist, in his subconscious- 
ness, ideals of sound which he could not violate if 
he would. 

A person's voice is determined by several factors: 
(i) his physical constitution, including his general 
bodily structure and health; (2) the peculiar con- 
struction of his vocal organs; (3) by his environ- 
ment, since many of the qualities of speech, including 
peculiarities of tone, have been acquired by con- 
scious or unconscious imitation; and (4) by his idea 
of sounds, their nature, purposes, and values. This 

BrFOftT 197 

determines what sort of ear one has. It may be 
doubted whether many men would speak in harsh 
gutturals if their ear told them the nature of their 
utterance, neither would they whine monotonously 
were their ideal of tone values high, and we should 
not hear half of those sharp, hard, or nasal voices 
for which Americans are noted if we knew how 
they sounded. For in most instances faulty voices 
are not the result of physical faults but of improper 
usage, and the manipulation necessary to bad vocal- 
ity is unnatural and abnormal. It is necessary, 
then, for the student to observe closely sounds gen- 
erally, and those of the voice in particular. Let 
him listen to noises and to vocal and instrumental 
music, for by listening to the singing voice he may 
learn many invaluable lessons which apply to 
speech. No tone can be uttered until it is con- 
ceived, and when it is accurately conceived utter- 
ance is usually a minor matter for consideration. 
As the stammerer cannot utter a sound which he 
believes himself unable to utter, so one cannot give 
a vocal quality until it is adequately pictured in the 
mind. Perhaps, then, many vocalists have been in 
error in regarding the mechanical side too exclu- 
sively, while higher and broader ideals of tone 
values should have been the object. 

Proper imitation is a great element in developing 
vocality. If the word is objected to, then let us say 
we should always endeavor to exemplify our highest 
tone ideals. But it is certain that the vocal organs 
respond better when we seek to imitate a sound 
heard or imagined than when we endeavor to fol- 
low some set formula of placing the organs. A 


child picks up all kinds of vocalization by trjring to 
make the sounds it hears, but to teach it speech by 
any other method is a difficult task. Therefore, 
while there is a subjective study, the chief study 
should be objective ; and into all work, above the 
first stages, should enter the thought of endeavor- 
ing to represent an ideal through the agency of 


THE student of voice must consider the matter of 
breathing in order to discover whether his own 
respiration is normal and, if it is not, to understand 
how to improve it. He should also understand that 
for special or unusual vocal effort there must be a 
control that is different from that of ordinary 
breathing. Countless systems of exercises have 
been prescribed and many theories have been ad- 
vanced, but exercises are worthless unless we un- 
derstand the purposes they are intended to serve 
and unless these purposes are proper. Vocalists 
insist on theories of respiration which are totally at 
variance with the plainest laws of science, some of 
them fail even to take into consideration human 
anatomy. A common-sense consideration of what 
most people have a knowledge of should lead to 
proper conclusions regarding the matter of breath- 

A most important factor in proper respiration is 
the nose, yet nasal breathing is not so common as is 


generally supposed. Ask the persons whom you 
meet whether they habitually breathe through the 
nose and probably they all will answer in the affirm- 
ative, when most likely they are mistaken. The 
habit of breathing through the nose is important, 
for both health and good vocality depend upon it. 
There is no doubt among scientific men that the 
nose is intended primarily as the organ through 
which we should take air into the lungs. There are 
exceptions which will be noted later, but this is the 
normal method. To show that it is designed for this 
purpose it is only necessary to examine its nature 
and to observe the habits of animals under nor- 
mal conditions. Internally it is one of the warm- 
est parts of the body. This is evidently for the 
purpose of preventing cold drafts reaching the lungs 
and causing congestion. It offers to the air a tortu- 
ous passage, so that it must travel through a longer 
space before entering the lungs. This allows time 
for the air to become warmed. Then, too, it is con- 
structed in such a manner as to sift out all im- 
purities, catching all forms of dust and retaining 
them in the nasal cavities. With its folds, fibres, 
and moistened interior it acts as an air filter which 
was designed to render innocuous the streams of 
air entering the lungs. True, one may take breath 
more quickly through the mouth, as filtration either 
of air or water is a process in which time is an ele- 

Persons frequently acquire the habit of mouth 
breathing in childhood: a cold settles in the head — 
breathing becomes difficult — in sleeping the mouth 
is open — and in a short time mouth breathing may 


become permanent. There are persons who employ 
this faulty form only during sleep. The results are 
a dry throat and mouth, irritation some place in the 
vocal organs, at times the sense of smell is dead- 
ened, and a tendency towards catarrh and nasal ob- 
structions is developed. Nothing keeps the nose 
healthy so much as normal usage. It has been dem- 
onstrated again and again that any abnormal use, 
or the lack of use, of an organ tends to create dis- 
ease or some form of trouble. Surgeons say that 
there is a tendency for growths to form in the nasal 
passages because of the disuse of that organ in 
breathing. Many are surprised to discover that 
they cannot breathe with equal ease through both 
nostrils, but any one may test the matter by closing 
one cavity while inhaling through the other. In 
many instances the trouble may be remedied by 
persistent endeavor to use the nose normally. 

From the point of view of the vocalist alone this 
is an important matter, since there must be health 
and normality of the vocal organs, and any irrita- 
tion tells instantly in the voice. Besides this the 
cavities of the nose are resonance cavities which 
give to the tones much of their coloring, the ab- 
sence of which renders speech unpleasant. 

Unless there is some obstruction in the form of a 
growth, nasal breathing may be acquired in a very 
short time, and when the habit has been formed any 
other form will appear unnatural. It is only neces- 
sary to close the lips tightly and keep them closed, 
save in speaking. Watch yourself and you may 
find that in walking the lips may be parted very 
slightly, but sufficiently to allow breathing. Try 


to carry the habit of nasal breathing into sleep, 
think about it upon retiring and when awake, and 
the mind may be so impressed that in a short time 
the habit will be formed not to be broken. Snoring 
is a disgusting habit which results from sleeping 
with the mouth open. 

One thing is obvious, and is regarded by all as an 
established fact, that to breathe normally one 
should inhale and exhale through the nose. Thus 
the air is warmed and purified. Mouth breathing 
allows the cold air to reach the lungs, dust and other 
impurities to pass directly to the vocal machinery, 
and the mouth and throat to become dry and 
irritated. Sleeping or awake, in normal life one 
should breathe through the nose. He may make 
this a habit by a little thought and persistence; but 
one must qualify this general principle, for nasal 
breathing is not natural under all conditions, but is 
simply the rule. Any violent exercise requires 
mouth breathing, for the reason that great quantities 
of air are required, and the mouth offers the only ade- 
quate means. Dogs and horses habitually breathe 
through the nose; but when under much exertion, 
this is changed to mouth breathing. In boxing, 
riding a steep hill on a wheel, rapid running, and 
the like, one should apply common sense, and he 
will note that the general rule has its exceptions. 
Nevertheless, all ordinary activity requires nasal 

In speaking or singing the breath must be taken 
in large measure through the mouth. The reasons 
are that the natural rhythmic respiration is broken 
up and one must inhale at such times and in such 


quantities as he can. Then the pause may be so 
short that there is not time to close the mouth and 
take breath by the slower nasal method. Singers 
and speakers have tried nasal breathing during 
vocality, but without success. Then in any very 
active work, where great quantities of air are re- 
quired, mouth breathing becomes necessary. But 
in spite of this some have urged that there is only 
one form of respiration that is correct. We notice 
that man> animals never resort to mouth breathing 
until they are violently exercised, when it is in- 
stantly employed. There are two forms of locomo- 
tion, walking and running, and both are performed 
by the same agencies; one is passive and the other 
active, and the same is true of breathing. 

In regard to filling the lungs several principles 
should be observed, and following out these the 
student may form his own exercises. The first idea 
is to ascertain whether we are taking in a proper 
supply of air. From habit, such as a contracted 
chest, or stooped shoulders, or a constricted thorax 
due to tight clothing, we may have decreased the 
normal supply of air, in which case there must be a 
low order of vitality. Then there are persons who 
breathe in sufficient quantities, but without extend- 
ing the expansion through the whole of the lung 
tissue. Healthful breathing consists in expanding 
every part slightly during every inhalation. Enor- 
mous quantities of air are not needed, and one 
with the greatest lung capacity is not necessarily 
the most healthful, nor the best vocalist. Fre- 
quently women breathe almost exclusively in the 
upper lobe of the lungs, while many men from 



Stooped shoulders or contracted chest, fill the hot* 
torn of the lungs chiefly. Therefore it has been 
noticed that in pulmonary diseases the women are 
apt to be attacked in the lower thorax and the men 
in the upper. 

Very much has been said about the habit of 
women in constricting the waist, but this is not the 
only abuse of clothing from the. standpoint of proper 
breathing. Fortunately we are becoming more 
rational in our habits of dress, and art has taught us 
that nature must be taken into consideration in the 
design of our fashions. That extreme waist con- 
striction prevalent twenty-five years ago is now 
popular only with the vulgar, and it may be doubted 
whether the ordinary dress along accepted lines in- 
terferes materially with breathing. The lungs are 
some distance above the waist line, and they may 
expand fully unless the muscles which control res- 
piration are prevented from acting, so continued 
writing in an incorrect posture, with the shoulders 
rounded and the chest depressed, decreases the 
cavity of the lungs and prevents their normal ex- 
pansion. The chest should be expanded and the 
vital organs held high for good health. There is a 
habit of dress often as injurious to men : the hang- 
ing of many heavy garments from the shoulders, 
thus depressing the lungs. A long, heavy overcoat 
reaching below the knees and weighing many 
pounds, in addition to other heavy garments, will 
pull the shoulders down and interfere with the full 
expansion of the upper chest. 

There are two sets of muscles employed in breath- 
ing where clothing, or habit, does not interfere with 


the process. These muscles may be roughly classi- 
fied as, (i) the diaphragmatic (including the great- 
est, the diaphragm) and (2) the abdominal. Then 
there are those muscles which act directly upon the 
ribs, expanding and contracting them. They are 
the intercostal. During passive inhalation, there is 
a downward movement of the diaphragm, and a 
recession in exhalation, at the same time there is 
some activity of the intercostal muscles. But in 
active breathing, where a great quantity of air must 
be taken in quickly, the direct action of the inter- 
costal muscles becomes apparent, the ribs are 
quickly drawn out and the air instantly rushes in. 

This form may be noticed in animals when they 
are exercised: the ribs move forward and outward, 
controlled by their own muscles, and recede during 
exhalation. Much confusion has arisen because 
persons have imagined that there is but one form 
of breathing adapted to all persons under all condi- 
tions. The extremes may be described as follows: — 

Passive breathings where little breath is required. 
This is taken through the nostrils with a downward 
stroke of the diaphragm and a slight action of the 
intercostal muscles. 

Active breathing, through the mouth if intense, 
with a strong action of the intercostal muscles and 
a slighter movement of the diaphragm. Dr. Mac- 
kenzie says that whatever theories may be advanced, 
one can take more breath and with greater rapidity 
by the latter form. 

While the lungs lie within a cage composed of the 
ribs, yet these are fixed flexibly so that with every 
respiration their capacity is increased and decreased. 


They have been likened to the handles of a bucket, 
one at either side ; when they are raised they are 
farthest apart, and when they fall they approximate 
or come nearer together. The whole trunk need 
not be raised, but a simple muscular action pushes 
the ribs upward and outward. In order to fill any 
part of the lungs it is only necessary to expand the 
walls of the chest over that part, and, therefore, if 
one will discover just where the lungs lie he may 
test the matter for himself. 

The following exercises, if carefully* followed, 
should be of great assistance : — 

First, make sure that the air in the room is pure. 

Stand erect, with the shoulders easily back; inhale 
through the nose ; exhale through the mouth ; inhale 
through ten seconds ; exhale through ten seconds. 

Be sure that the inhalation and exhalation do 
not occur on the first few counts, but extend each 
through the entire number: that is, inhale an equal 
quantity through every count, and exhale in the 
same manner. This is the purpose of the exercise. 

The number of counts for both may be gradually 
increased, but never carry it to the point where it 
requires any considerable effort. Proper .control, 
and not great capacity, is the purpose. Never hold 
the breath ; in normal respiration either inhalation 
or exhalation should be constantly taking place. 
This should be practiced in connection with other 
breathing exercises for a few minutes several times 

• Re m ember that in tollowlBC printed egcrctoet the anthon Intend tlMt, 
AS In mathematical problema, the directions should be strictly obeyed. 
When the proper result has been reached the pupil may vary them as he 
thinks beet. 


Now inliale as befoxv, and allow Una liraafh to 
cape through the mouth in a whispering sound; 

a A. Let the time for tUs sound equal that of 

the inhalation ; do not allow more breath to escape 
in the beginning than at the end, but make it the 
same throughout. InhalatioUi counting mentally: 
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10; exhalation : z-t-5-4-5-6-7- 

Following this, one may begin to use the vowels^ 
inhaling in every instance as before, and exhaling 
in the same manner, on each of these sounds: n, r, 
I, 0, u, 00, If one dioose he may add to this list all 
the other vowel sounds. 

These simple exercises, if followed closely and 
with systematic daily practice, will be of great valuAi 
We would advise exercising on these, at least twice 
daily, for periods not exceeding ten minutes each, 
and at times when the person is not exhausted — 
not, however, just before nor just after eating. 

After considerable practice in the exercises above 
he may apply the principles to reading. He will 
see that there are rests or pauses, which are neces* 
sary to bring out the meaning and to show the xela^ 
tion between words or i>arts of a sentence. These 
pauses afford time for inhaling, when air should be 
taken into the lungs as the opportunity presents it^ 
self and in such quantities as the i>au8es will admiL 
This breathing should be quiet and unobserved. 
In the following examples, the dash is not a mark 
of punctuation, but indicates where breath may be 
taken: — 

The heavens declare the gjorf ef Qed;— sad the finaaaisat 
showeth his handiwork. — Daj unto day uttsreih ipeech,— and 


night unto night showeth knowledge. — There is no speech nor 
language, — where their voice is not heard. — Their line is gone 
out through all the earth, — and their words to the end of the 
world.— ^iK/. 

Practice this, taking breath at the places indicated, 
exercising care that it is not wasted on the first 
word or two uttered. Control its escape and reserve 
sufficient to carry the voice until the next pause is 
reached. When this can be done easily, and the 
breathing is not unduly prominent, the number of 
breathing places may be decreased, as : — 

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament 
showeth his handiwork. — Day unto day uttereth speech, and 
night unto night showeth knowledge. — ^There is no speech nor 
language, where their voice is not heard. — Their line is gone 
out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the 

Any selection may be similarly treated by the 
student, the purpose being always to speak while 
the chest is comfortably filled with air. We do not 
think it is advisable to read as much as possible be- 
fore inhalation. The student should not aim to ex- 
cel in doing an exercise, but to firmly establish a 
reasonable habit. Swimming and diving are fine 
exercises for breath control, if not overdone. 

The following exercise, which may be taken on 
the street, unobserved, is the favorite of a promi- 
nent physical instructor: — 

With the head up, shoulders back, and mouth 
closed: inhale through two strides, then exhale 
through two. Without any interval inhale through 
three, then exhale through the same number. 
Keep on increasing the number of each until you 


begia to feel an eEFort, then stop and breathe nor> 
mally again for a minute or two, and then repeat. 
One should exercise care that the same amount of 
air is inhaled or exhaled through each of the 

Never practice a vocal nor a breathing exercise 
unless you know its purpose, nor unless that pur- 
pose seems reasonable. Breath capacity and breath 
control are the chief purposes of these exercises. 

The student, in practicing the foregoing exer- 
cises, has probably begun to study respiration, and 
has become, in a genera! sense, aware of its machin- 
ery. He is now ready to consider the matter more 
technically, although we deem much of the usual 
speculation on this subject neither true nor neces- 

Next we should inquire into the manner in which 
we breathe, and this will throw considerable light 
on our practice. Broadly speaking, our respiration 
is produced in the same manner as the blowing of & 
bellows. The lungs are filled with air-cells, con- 
nected with these cells are tubes that lead to the 
larynx and there form one larg;e tube which opens 
into the mouth and nose, and which connect the 
air-cells with the great envelope of air which sur- 
rounds the earth. The lungs are surrounded by 
the ribs, which are flexibly adjusted. When they 
expand, the outside pressure of air fills the lungs; 
when they contract, the air chamber becomes 
smaller and the air is forced out. 

We may see now how it is possible to breathe only 
in certain parts of the lungs. Expansion of the 
Inng wilt occur where there is expansion over it, and 


nowhere else. If you raise your shoulders you take 
the pressure from the upper parts, and these will 
fill with air. If the walls of the chest farther down 
are thrown out, a partial vacuum will be created, 
which nature abhors and consequently fills. This 
is the simple theory, and from it we may deduce 
that all the lung-cells should be used in breathing, 
and that to do this the walls of the chest covering 
the lungs should be expanded in all parts. Not- 
withstanding all the theories that have been ex- 
pounded, if you know you are filling the lungs all 
over and without undue effort, and that you have 
perfect control over inhalation and erhalation, 
theories will not matter much. 


Breathing may be tested, and the various muscles 
exercised, by combining the following suggestions 
with the first series of exercises: — 

I. Assume an erect position with the hips and shoulders 
back : place the palms upon the upper chest and inhale slowly 
through the nose, expanding the body under the hands. Do 
this without raising the shoulders or otherwise moving. Re> 
lax the muscles, allowing the breath to escape through the 

a. Inhale with a view of expanding the muscles of the sides 
just beneath the armpits ; push the waUs of the sides upward 
and outward, without elevating the shoulders. 

3. Inhale with a view of forcing out the muscles of the back 

just above the smaU of the back. To do this the hands may 

be placed on the back with thumbs forward, the back of the 

fingert covering the dorsal muadea. Note whether there is 



expansioQ and contraction under the hands. Be carefol not to 
bend the body dnring this exercise. 

4. Inhale with a view of forcing oat the muscles of the ab* 
domen. Expand the abdomen as much as possible during in- 
halation, and allow the muscles to sink as much as possible 
during exhalation. The breathing should be deep and regular. 

5. Inhale with a view of forcing down the diaphragmatic 
muscle, a large arch-shaped muscle separating the organs of 
digestion from those of respiration. The diaphragm is attached 
to the walls of the sides at about the third lower rib; and thus 
in diaphragmatic breathing, during inhalation the muscle is 
forced downward, with the result that the walls are forced 
outward. This may be otherwise termed waist breathing, as 
when we inhale we do so with a view of expanding the entire 
circle of the waist 

6. This exercise is a combination of all other forms of breath- 
ing. Inhale slowly, exercising the will upon all of the muscles 
concerned in breaUi production. 

7. Inhale slowly and prolong the previous exercise. 

8. Exercise a natural emission of the breath on the sound of 
the letter A* 

9^ Exercise a gradual and forceful exptdsion of the breath 
on the sound of the letter A. 

la Exercise a sudden explosion of the breath on the sound 
of the letter A. 

The next idea, and the one which concerns vocal 
management, is proper control of exhalation. For 
purposes of life it is necessary to inhale certain 
quantities of air, exhalation does not concern us 
especially. The air having been vitiated we throw 
it off as quickly as possible. But for the purposes 
of speech the method of escape becomes an impor- 
tant matter. Very much heavy breathing and 
gasping is due to allowing the lungs to exhaust 

^The sound, not the name of the letter. The name of the letter 
4 It aiick, hot its sound is what is heard in whispering AoA. (See bottom 
BBOC-note on page i^x) 


themselves quickly, and they must be constantly 
replenished. Consequently, some words are made 
with too much breath and others with too little. 
The breathing should be deep and regular, and at 
times the greatest economy is desirable. 

There are various exercises which may be em- 
ployed to remedy this : — 

I. Pronounce the vowels in a whisper, inhaling before each, 
and exhausting the longs at each effort This represents the 
extreme to be avoided. 

3. Pill the lungs and whisper the &ye vowels, without inhal* 
ing between. 

3. Fill the lungs and sound ^ in a whisper, prolonging it 
softly and regularly as long as it may be done with comfort 

4. Inhale ; then prolong a vowel on a light even tone as long 
as may be without exhaustion. If the sound wavers and trem- 
bles, keep up the practice until it is firm and even. Recite a 
line of poetry in one breath, then two lines, and increase as 
long as easily possible. 

For development of the muscles of the waist and 
abdomen one may form a series of exercises, bend- 
ing the body at the hips to the right, to the left, 
and backwards. He may stand erect during inhala- 
tion, and bend sideways or backwards during ex- 
halation, or may exhale in a whisper or on the 
vowels. Finally, he may bend from side to side 
and backwards during inhalation and exhalation. 

Recite while walking, trying to control the breath 
and voice. Speaking while walking up hill is a 
good exercise. Light dumb-bell practice or other 
physical exercise, not too violent, is good to accom- 
pany breathing and vocal exercises. 

In addition to the above, breathing exercises may 
be practiced in calisthenic drills — inhaling through 


a certain number of counts, and exhaling in the 
same manner. Care must be exercised to avoid in- 
haling or exhaling suddenly during one or two 
counts and holding the breath through the re- 
mainder, but the same amount of breath should be 
given to each count. Do not let the breathing stop, 
either inhalation or exhalation should be constantly 

Several rules should be observed : never practice 
long at one period; never practice when very tired; 
and never carry any exercise beyond the point of 


THE purpose of any exercise intended for the cure 
of stammering is that of discipline rather than 
of development, and for this reason the student 
should keep constantly in mind that the action of 
his muscles during exercise is but obedience to the 
dictates of the will. When by exercising the will 
we can control muscular action we will be able to 
converse fluently and without stammering. Phys- 
ical exercises are ordinarily calculated to improve 
the general health and develop the physique; 
breathing exercises are considered highly beneficial 
to aid in this development; vocal exercises serve to 
strengthen and mellow the voice, but all such ex- 
ercises in connection with any method for the cure 
of stammering, though beneficial in other ways, are 
given for the purpose of discipline. 

To accomplish this end we should summon to 
our aid every exercise possible where mind and mus- 


cle act together and in the manner herein suggested, 
and control the latter to act in conformity with, and 
in obedience to the dictates of, the former. 

I. Assume a standing position with the hips and shoolden 
hack, the body in such a position that a line dropped perpen- 
dicularly from the chest would fall directly in front of the toes. 

Utter the vowels naturally, prolonging the breath two sec- 
onds on each sound. The throat should be well opened and 
the lower jaw protruded slightly. Care should be exer- 
cised that the organs are positioned properly, and no unusual 
effort should be made, the object being to exercise the organs 
on the production of the natural tone. 

3. Utter the vowels with full force, using a decisive action 
of the diaphragmatic muscle for each utterance. In the execu- 
tion of this exercise the full volume of the voice should be 
used, care being had, however, not to overtax the organs. 

3. Commence in the natural tone (see exercise i) ; increase 
to full force (see exercise 2) ; return to the natural and again 
to the full force, alternating the voice from the natural tone to 
the full force on each vowel, five times. 

4. Exercise the voice in an effusive utterance on each voweL 
The tone produced should characterize the easiest possible 
effort toward utterance, and is a modified form of the nat- 
ural tone. 

5. Commence in a whispered utterance ; increase to the fall 
volume of the voice ; then suddenly stop. 

6. Fill the lungs to their fullest capacity and utter a vowel 
sound, commencing suddenly with the abrupt utterance and 
allowing the voice to gjaduaUy die away to a whispered utter- 
ance. Repeat with each vowel sound. 

7. Force the air from the lungs through the mouth ; inhale 
through the nostrils to the full capacity of the lungs; utter each 
vowel sound, holding the tone as long as possible. This exer^ 
cise should be practiced with caution, and care most be 
exercised not to strain the muscles either during inhalation or 

8. Commence in a whispered utterance; increase to the foil 
iFOkune and allow the voice to gradually diminish in tone to a 



whispered utterance. This Is a oombiiiatkni of ezardaet 
5 and 6. 

9. Prolong each of the vowels, intermpting their 
through the glottis and making the voice tremulous. 

la Commence with the full farce and suddenly 
the volume of tone. This is an abbreviated form of ezerdae 6. 



MANY forms of defective utterance result from 
lack of flexibility of the tongue or because 
of the rigidity of the muscles of the mouth, and 
thus in order to remedy this diflSculty the writ- 
ers suggest the following tongue exercises hav- 
ing witnessed their beneficial results in numerous 
cases : — 

These exercises should be practiced before a 
mirror in order that the student may form a better 
idea of the positions suggested. Special attention 
should be directed to the action of the tongue, lips, 
soft palate, and lower jaw. 


Protrude the tongue as far as possible and bring it back 
forcibly. Repeat the exercise fifteen times in successton. 

Place the tip of the pointed tongue at the right comer of 


the lips (mouth open) ;move the tip of tongue to left comer; 
alternate back and forth twelve timet. Breathe regularly dur- 
ing the exercise. 

3. Touch the comers and centers of the lips with the pointed 
tongue (mouth open). Begin slo«|mMaiiinencing from right 
to left; increase the speed wh9r^^^B<f^fteen times; then 

:cxii«r9 UL ujic u^ Yfi\ 

1 sloglg^Miiinencix] 


4. Make six complete circles from right to left, pressing the 
tip of the pointed tongue lightly against the edge of the lips. 
Reverse the exercise. 

5. With the point of the tongue drawn as far back into the 
mouth as possible, make six complete circles. Reverse the 

6. Touch the lips with the pointed tongue twelve times at 
the comers, intermediate points, and centers. Reverse the 

7. Place the end of the pointed tongue at the edge of the 
upper gums and bring it back along the hard palate until it 
touches the soft palate ; force its point as far down into the 
throat as possible. Repeat the exercise twelve times. 

8. Fold the edges of the tongfue up and force the pointed tip 
as far out between the lips as possible. Repeat the exercise 
slowly twelve times. 

9. Touch the lips with the end of the pointed tongue at 
points intermediately between the comers and center. The 
form of this exercise should outline the letter X. Repeat 
twelve times; then reverse. 

xo. Trill the sound of the letter r. 


THIS is a point requiring a competent instructor, 
and at best the meaning of the authors must 
be rather obscure even after full explanation. Very 
many persons in pronouncing a vowel utter it with 
a sort of metallic click, or explosion. It is a sound 
resembling a cough, and is made in very much the 
same manner. If these sounds could be represented 
by characters, we should say they are of a shape 
resembling the capital • D, • and that they should 
be like the letter • O. • These appear often in speech 


and song when the word begins with a vowel, and 
they are apt to be especially prominent in such a 
word if there has been a pause or a partial rest be- 
fore it. 

Many vocal teachers help to accentuate this un- 
pleasant quality by insisting upon a decided attack 
of the tones, terming it the •glottis stroke,* etc. 
The result is oftentimes a series of metallic clicks 
which is foreign to purity of tone and ease of pro- 
duction. Many trained singers and speakers who 
have this unpleasant tone imagine it is an element 
of power. It is a matter which does not concern time 
nor force, since the vowel may be properly rounded 
or emphatically uttered without the unpleasant catch 
or cough and without undue throat effort. 

Since our conception of tones has so much to do 
with their utterance, the exercises which follow will 
be helpful. In practice students should begin with 
the long notes, exercising care to begin each gently. 
The time may be gradually shortened until the 
short sounds may be given smoothly. Inflected 
notes also may be employed. Utter these sounds, 
using the five vowels. 

The muscles of the throat must not be set rigidly 
in preparation for a sound, but should take their po- 
sition easily while the sound is being formed. Per- 
haps the general idea may be expressed by saying 
that the vocal organs should not eject a sound, but 
should shape it while it is escaping. This constant 
cough or click is destructive to the beauty of a voice, 
and is at the same time injurious to the throat. 

There is a tendency to close the throat and sud- 
denly allow the sound to escape If one notices 


closely he will find that the breath is forced Into the 
tipper chest for the purpose of making the sound, 
but is held by reason of the closed throat. Sud* 
denly the throat is opened and the air escapes forci* 
bly as in coughing. One may practice saying over 
the vowels, joining all together by a thread of 
sound; next this thread may be made very slight, 
and finally one may practice with the connecting 
sound only in the imagination. In repeating the 
vowels it will be noticed that long u never has this 
abrupt quality, the reason being that as it is a 
diphthong the body of the sound has a preparation, 
the sound being a combination of y and 00, Now, in 
practicing the other vowels may be preceded by y^ 
as y-a^ y-e, y-i^ y-o^ y-^o. This annexed sound 
may be gradually diminished until it exists only in 
the imagination. As the impression has so much to 
do with the resultant sound, one may think, in utter* 
ing the vowels, of quickly describing a circle of 
sound rather than ejecting blocks of tone. After 
proficiency has been attained in the above exercises, 
one may read carefully selections of prose or poetry, 
exercising care to speak the initial vowels with 
firmness but not explosively. 

The following exercise will be found excellent if 
closely followed. Repeat the following words, giv- 
ing long time to each : — 

mayy me^ my^ mow^ mew. 

These represent the five long vowel sounds pre- 
ceded by the consonant m^ or, 

may mty mi^ mo^ mu» 


Repeat these sounds slowly, subduing the sound 
of m and giving the vowels their full quantity. 

Repeat again, making the consonant almost in- 
audible. Finally, place the mouth in the position 
to make m but do not utter that sound, and, letting 
it exist in the mind, form each vowel. 

The sound may now be reversed as follows: — 

am^ eniy im^ om^ um. 

Finally these vowels may be placed between 
other sounds, as : — 

ntate^ meaty mighty tnote^ mute. 

Let the purpose be to pronounce the vowel, 
whether alone or in the midst of a word, clearly 
and smoothly. The short vowels may be treated in 
the same manner. 


THOSE things which appeal to hearing are gener- 
ally supposed to be much more definite than 
those that reach the eye, but this idea is not cor- 
rect. Very many of the impressions of life are 
gathered from sound, even apart from words. 
Silent reading is supposed to appeal to the eye, but 
it depends also upon the ear, since the tones are 
imagined as we read. The same qualifications 
which are essential to beauty of form and color are 
applicable to sounds. All the noises we hear are 


physical, and have form and, in a sense, colon 
Each sound is a sound because a certain form of 
vibration has been made in the physical ear, and 
the brain looking upon the picture forms a judg- 
ment, calling it harmonious or inharmonious. 


A KNOWLEDGE of toue is innate, yet speech requires 
infinite variety of modification, and this is 
learned as an3^hing else is, either consciously or 
unconsciously. Most words are wholly artificial and 
require study and capacity as much as do the rules 
of arithmetic or grammar, though some appear to 
think that a vocabulary and vocal ability * come by 
nature,* as Dogberry said of reading and writing. 
We may discover what is natural and what is artifi- 
cial by observing men in extreme conditions. They 
scream, groan, sigh, and laugh without premedita- 
tion, and each of these in its place is more eloquent 
than words. And these sounds are most di£5cult to 
imitate successfully. Tones are so absolute in their 
meaning that words are construed and modified by 
their use ; where words and tones conflict, the latter 
are believed. 

We may consider another class of words which 
may be termed descriptive. Every language is rich 
in them, and in modified forms they are numerous 
in the vocabularies of many peoples. There is no 
reason why we should say come^ go^ walk, talk^ 


climb, run, when we wish to designate a particular 
act, save that men have agreed that these sounds 
shall be thus employed. But there is a deeper rea- 
son for saying the insects hum^ the file rasps, the 
cannon booms, the pan sizzles, the water gurgles, the 
bells tinkle, the breeze murmurs, the owl hoots, 
the lion roars. The mere utterance of one of these 
words suggests the act, and also brings before our 
minds the object performing that act They are 
^picture-words,* very suggestive to the imagina- 
tion. There are thousands of these words in any 
language, and they give to it much of its music and 
coloring. Thus we trace many of our words back 
beyond Latin, Saxon, or Greek roots, and find their 
origin in the imitative faculty of primitive man. 

Mimicry is a great feature in our make-up, and 
especially is it prominent in children and primitive 
peoples. Now, the sounds of nature make a definite 
impression upon us; for instance: the moaning 
winds make us sad; the chattering brook, joyous; 
and the pealing thunder fills us with awe. Might 
not primitive man in feeling these emotions have 
consciously or, more likely, half consciously uttered 
sounds somewhat like them, to find that their mean- 
ings were recognized by his fellows ? 

Children and the lower animals use the ruder 
forms of tone before either reason or experience 
has come to dictate what they shall be. A child 
laughs because it feels happy and cries when it is in 
pain. It has not learned this, because it cannot be 
taught to reverse the process. The first attempts 
at language are shown in imitations of the sounds 
of animals, as a grunt to represent a pig, or a crow 


to designate a cock. Perhaps at first this imitation 
is entirely unconscious. And while at an early age 
we use these animal cries with accuracy, we are 
equally cognizant of their meaning when used by 
others. A dog*s bark will frighten the infant, while 
the mother's soft lullaby soothes it to rest. What* 
ever, then, the origin, it is certain that there is a 
language of sounds, and that in its ruder aspects it 
is generally recognized. Upon this basis we have 
instrumental and vocal music and the voice in 
speech. There are certain distinctive sounds em- 
ployed imiversally by man and, of course, are uni- 
versally recognized. A few may be enumerated: 
the groan^ sigh^ l(^ugh^ sneer ^ scream^ exclamations 
z&oh! ah I etc. There are common noises around 
which superstitions have gathered. The moaning 
of the wind is the cry of unhappy spirits. The hoot 
of an owl or the howling of a dog betokens death. 
Superstition in these cases is the result of an im- 
pression produced by a peculiar sound, which if 
made by any other instrumentality would give rise 
to the same feeling. One hearing a lion roar, the 
booming of the surf, or the deep notes of the organ, 
for the first time, will receive an impression of awe, 
and an idea of mysterious power will animate him. 
If then he speaks, his voice will in a measure re- 
semble that sound which impressed his mind. This 
will be an unconscious imitation. 

That some knowledge of these tones is innate 
cannot be questioned. No one needs to be taught 
to laugh or scream — no one can be taught to do it 
effectively; an idiot knows how, but when tones are 
joined to the utterance of words in the refinements 


and conventionalities of speech we reach a point 
where all is a matter of education. 

And while we study vocal mechanism and voice 
production do we not also need to study vocal mean- 
ings? Nature has made a machine for producing 
voice ; it speaks and it sings. What are the points 
of relation and of divergence? It may be studied as 
a sound, as a human voice, as the organ of speech, 
as the organ of speech of certain individual mental 
and physical characteristics. Tones have meanings 
which are exact and absolute. They are like words, 
of which Cardinal Newman said: •They have a 
meaning whether we mean that meaning or not.* 
Whether they will ever be reduced to anything like 
a science may be doubted, because they are so in- 
tangible. They are uttered and are gone forever. 
But more should be known about them, and surely 
it is our province to make the research. 

It is not suflScient for us that certain qualities of 
voice are usually employed in certain passages. It 
will not do to quote simply a Murdoch, a Rush, or a 
Delsarte. These things need to be verified by a 
wide human experience — by observation of all kinds 
of sound. Both animate and inanimate nature are 
speaking to men. What do they say? How do they 
say it? Can they teach us any lessons? May we 
not find that all creation speaks at bottom the same 
language, and that it is to this we should go to learn 
the scales? There are certain sounds that appeal to 
the ear in such a pleasing maoner that we call their 
combined product music, just as there are objects 
which attract the eye and we call them beautiful. 
A pile of bricks and lumber and rubbish is not beau- 


tiful, because certain elements are wanting and be* 
cause chaos is not pleasing to the eye. The ear is 
impressed in about the same manner; there are 
melodies and harmonies of sound which please the 
ear, and these we call music. Sounds may be di- 
vided into two classes, noise and music. Perfect 
regularity of the number of vibrations in a sound 
per second, together with smoothness in the sound 
waves, will give us a musical tone. The howling of 
the wind is not musical because the pitch of the 
noise is constantly changing, making a circumflex. 
The growling of a dog is not musical for another 
reason — the sound waves are irregular in outline 
and come to the ear in a rough and broken condition. 
Variety in music is produced by changes in pitch, 
by distinct steps, and by di£Eerence in voice, time, 
and stress; but in speech we have all of these and 
sometimes more. We have the inflected tones as 
well. Why is it there is one kind of voice for sing- 
ing and another for speaking ? Why do we not sing 
our various wants, likes, and dislikes ? We have 
seen that music is the embodiment of harmony and 
that it is the beautiful of speech, and hence the 
function of music is to appeal to the sensibilities — 
to the emotional side of our nature. Now, in speech 
we want all this and something more. We must 
appeal to man*s every faculty. His intellect must be 
swayed, his will moved, and this is not the province 
of music. Hence, in speech we must have strength 
as well as beauty, power as well as harmony, and 
therefore we use the inflected tones. Sculpture, as 
a rule, aims at the beautiful, and this beauty cor- 
responds to that harmony in sound which we call 


music. We may want a fine building ornamented 
by sculpture ; this is beauty combined with useful- 
ness or strength, and this corresponds to speech. 
So while harmony is not the only feature to be con- 
sidered in speech, yet it is a salient feature, and no 
aggregation of strength in speech can entirely take 
its place. The tympanum of the ear is affected in 
much the same manner as the retina of the eye. 
What appeals to one person may not to another. 
One eye may be sensitive to delicacy of objects and 
so may one catch harmonies, subtleties, and dis- 
tinctions in a sound that is a mere unmusical sensa- 
tion or noise to another. But we shall find that as 
we study voice we shall cultivate the ear. As the 
voice becomes quick to adapt and mold itself, as it 
gains in flexibility, so will the ear grow in its capac- 
ity to detect the subtle difference in all of these 
sounds. Some ears can detect a sound that is utter 
silence to another, even as a cat can hear the deli- 
cate footfalls or minutest noises of a mouse, when 
the human ear would be deaf to them. It is said of 
Blind Tom, the celebrated negro musician, that he 
would sit for hours enwrapped in melodies his fin- 
gers drew from the keys, so wonderful that others 
could not comprehend them, yet he reveled m them 
because he detected what to his ear was harmony, 
and hence music. 

The first great lesson which the student should 
learn is to make a small voice and make it well. 
The more voice is produced m a faulty manner, the 
more the vocal machmery is disarranged and the 
more established will our incorrect habits become. 
Too much stress cannot be put upon this. Thote 


who use their voices to any degree before the cor- 
rect basis of voice production is established, will 
destroy timbre and flexibility of voice and gain noth- 
ing in real power, if, indeed, the throat or some of 
its organs are not permanently injured. The fault 
is this: the student frequently mistakes mere noise 
for power, and thus sacrifices quality to mere quan- 
tity. Let this be borne in mind, then : the lighter 
voices, with all the delicacies of shading and touch, 
with their perfect timbre and variety, with their 
smoothness and flexibility, require infinitely more 
practice and control than mere noise, even as they 
mean infinitely more. Let this also be kept before 
the ambitious student: the difference between the 
light sounds and the heavy ones is only one of de- 
gree, not of kind. The same inflections, the same 
shading, and the same timbre are found in the 
more forcible notes — they are only an enlargement 
of the others. Voice is a phase of muscular activ- 
ity; therefore, the first thing to be accomplished is 
to establish correct habits of voice, by allowing 
those muscles which should have no part in it to re- 
lax and take their normal condition, while others 
should be cultivated until they take their proper 
place in the vocal mechanism. 

There are three distinct movements or directions 
of movement, of the human voice: (i) the musical, 
or that note which keeps the exact number of vibra- 
tions throughout, (2) the upward inflection or slide, 
when the number of vibrations is constantly increas- 
ing,- and (3) the downward inflection or slide, when 
the number of vibrations decreases. These three 
movements correspond, in a great degree, with the 

8 9-15 


divisions of the human mind. The musical move- 
ment is the language of the sensibilities. It voices 
the emotions. In music we have this movement 
only, while in speech^ when the sentiment appeals 
to the sensibilities principally, we have many purely 
musical notes and few abrupt inflections. A good 
illustration of this will be found in reading elevated 
poetry. In most positive assertions and emphatic 
statements the prevailing tendency is to employ 
falling inflections. In pure argument, simple de- 
scription, or in any sentiment where intelligence 
alone is predominant, upward inflections are numer- 
ous. The intellect interrogates, and the more de- 
cided downward movement is rare ; but the moment 
we grow dogmatic there is a succession of falling 
inflections, just as there is a tendency to emphasize 
by downward movement of the hands. Neither 
does the voice in either of these kinds of sentiment 
take that clear musical plane which characterizes 
the expression of beautiful ideas, or of passages 
where the emotions play a conspicuous part. There 
is no need to discuss whether we should endeavor 
to make the voice correspond with these standards; 
it is sufficient to know that it usually does so, and to 
understand that, when mastered, our powers of ex- 
pression are equal to all demands upon them. 

What we hear is the result of a physical impres- 
sion — a picture of sound waves— and this final im- 
pression depends upon the instrument which sets 
the waves in vibration. When we speak of a voice 
being fine the impression is due to several causes: 
to the peculiar structure and manipulation of the 
vocal organs of the speaker; to the conditions which 


obtain in the conveying medium, including the 
acoustic properties of the room; to the physical 
structure and health of the ear, and to our mental 
ability to comprehend true values. But each sound 
makes a physical impression as definite as the sen- 
sation of touch. 

Objectively speaking, voice depends upon the 
reception of sound waves by the ear of the hearer. 
By means of a delicate film against which the voice 
may be thrown, geometrical figures varjdng in 
beauty and design may be produced. Some experi- 
menters claim to have produced representations of 
flowers and plants. Certainly, there is a close com- 
panionship between the various senses, and that 
may be understood when we realize that all sense 
impressions are due to vibrations. Certain move- 
ments we designate as jars, rumbles, or thuds; in 
these the vibrations per second are very few and 
are felt by the whole body. When the number in- 
creases to fifteen or twenty per second we have the 
sensation of a definite pitch, and this is apparent 
with the increase up to many thousands, when 
finally the sensation of sound vanishes. These dif- 
ferent numbers of vibrations produce the notes of 
the scale. When the number of vibrations reaches 
millions per second we have a sensation of light, 
and as these increase we have another scale — that 
of colors. It is interesting to think that between 
sound and sight there is an immense gap where 
vibrations are neither one nor the other, and that 
they are meaningless because we have no sense to 
receive the impression. This relation is not alto- 
gether fanciful, since to a few persons sounds have 


definite colors which never change, but there is 
difl&culty in forming any theories on the subject, for 
the reason that these vary with diflEerent people. 

The student should study sounds generally in 
order to form proper estimates of vocal tones, 
whether for singing or speaking. He should learn to 
properly arrange and classify them as he would the 
various blossoms in a bouquet, remembering always 
that whatever reaches the mind through the senses 
comes in the form of vibration, that the ear is the 
receiving instrument, and that the mind is the 
learned or the ignorant judge which assigns them 
their place. 

Many sounds are mere discord because the mind 
fails to classify or to appreciate their purpose. Per- 
haps all discord is the result of ignorance, or of hu- 
man inability to interpret it. Pope defines discord 
as ^ harmony not understood * The finest music is 
mere unmeaning noise to the uncultivated ear. 
There are other sounds which are unpleasant by rea- 
son of their intensity. The filing of saws, the shriek 
of a locomotive, or the hammering of iron are too 
violent for pleasure, but distance softens the sound 
and then the effect may be pleasurable. 



oiCES, like faces, have their own peculiarities 
and each represents a kind, nevertheless, cer- 
tain classes may be described, chiefly with the view 
of enablmg each student to detect his own points of 


strength or of weakness when measured by these 

In the broadest sense there are two kinds, good 
and bad ; the former expresses accurately and fully 
the sentiment which we have in mind, while the 
latter does not. A good voice means a perfect in- 
strument that responds unconsciously to the de- 
mands of expression, for conscious effort in its 
manipulation interferes with its freest exercise. 

But to classify voices more definitely we must 
consider their various phases from the standpoint of 
the physical manipulation and the resultant sound. 
Writers generally have adopted certain terminology 
in describing vocal qualities which may be followed 
in order to avoid confusion. 

The normal comes first, and is the language of 
dispassionate address. It requires little effort, the 
sound waves passing through both the oral and nasal 
passages. It must not be obstructed in its emission, 
but the muscles of the throat are relaxed, and the 
slight effort necessary is centered in the muscles of 
respiration and in the articulating organs. It is a 
clear, open tone, not obstructed in its escape. 

The orotund is the voice in emotion, and is heard 
in the expression of lofty and dignified sentiment. 
It is simply an enlargement of the normal, every 
element in that quality being magnified. Usually 
the time, force, and resonance are increased. There 
is an increased effort in the respiratory organs, and 
the inner mouth is well open in order to secure 
proper resonance. 

The aspirate is a quaUty where there is a quantity 
of breath mixed with vocalisation. It is the Ian- 


guage of fear, secrecy, or suppression. In some it 
is habitual, being due to certain physical conditions. 
To a degree it mars many voices, and is due not to 
too little breath but to too much. To avoid this, 
students may read whole verses or paragraphs in a 
breath with the endeavor to make every word pene- 
trate to some distance. Another exercise is excel- 
lent : since we inhale by expanding the walls of the 
chest, practice speaking retaining as much of this 
expansion as possible, inhaling infrequently. An 
aspirated voice is bad, since it exhausts the lungs 
quickly, and causes the words to appear muffled, 
and therefore to have little reaching power. 

The nasal tone is usually the voice of rurality or 
clownishness ; all our fools, rustics, and clowns are 
made to speak in this voice. It is due to too little 
or too great use of the nasal passages. This may 
be due to disease or to mere habit. Hints for its 
cure may be found in the article on breathing. 
Where the nose is the chief resonator the sound rep- 
resents quaintness, laziness, and good nature, and 
is not altogether unpleasant. Where the so-called 
nasality is due to an absence of nasal resonance it 
is cold, sharp, and angular, and is altogether un- 

The guttural is a harsh unpleasant quality which 
usually represents ill-nature or violence. It is 
heard in the crash of thunder, the growl of animals, 
and the violent speeches of men. It is due to a con- 
traction of the muscles of the throat, just as at 
times we clutch the hands and contract the lines of 
the face. It may be carried to such an extent that 
the throat closes entirely, as when one becomes so 


angry he cannot speak. It is usually uttered in a 
low key. More or less of this quality has crept into 
the speech of many men, even during the expres- 
sion of ordinary sentiment. The remedy is to re- 
move the throat effort, allowing the internal muscles 
to be flexible and devitalized during speech. All 
effort and violence are shown at once in the throat 
muscles, therefore there must be an effort to elimi- 
nate effort 

The pectoral is a tone usually made on a low 
pitch with long time and minor notes. The inner 
mouth is open as far as possible, and the base of the 
tongue depressed in order to produce deep throat 
resonance. It is not necessarily an impure tone, 
and when the time is shortened and the minor notes 
removed it relapses into an ordinary deep voice. It 
is to be shunned, however, for ordinary speech, be- 
cause it is unnatural, and because if it is per- 
manently adopted the voice loses flexibility and 
sweetness. Many of the older teachers of voice 
considered it the ideal, and no pupil was regarded 
as having a cultivated voice unless he could roar 
and bellow. It is the voice of morbid passion, 
great awe, and extreme depression. Amateur tra- 
gedians affect it. 

The falsetto is found only among men, and rarely 
even with them. It is a quality produced when a 
man speaks in a woman's register, it is also fre- 
quently observed in boys during a change of voice. 
In some cases it continues even into manhood, but 
continuous endeavor to speak in a lower key and 
the repetition of exercises on a low pitch will usu- 
ally remedy the evil. In many cases where this 


voice occtirs it is because the ear has become accus« 
tomed to it, and the speaker thinks a change to a 
lower pitch sounds strange. Boys and men who 
imitate much where this voice is employed, invari- 
ably have a thin, high, affected, or childish voice. 

The oral is difficult to describe, but is heard in 
great physical weakness. It is thin and weak like a 
moan, and is frequently heard in fever and delirium. 
There is not enough physical strength to control 
the vocal machine normally, and there is a lack of 
sufficient breath to produce full vocality. 

The tremolo is of two kinds: that produced by 
physical weakness, and that by a surplus of energy. 
As the mind controls the body, its states are in- 
stantly depicted in voice. Physical weakness, sad- 
ness, and grief often express themselves in tremolo, 
because the muscles which control voice tremble. 
It is shown in the extreme in laughing and sobbing 
where the diaphragm flutters, causing the" stream of 
breath to be uneven. In abundant strength the 
voice throbs with energy, just as the engine throbs 
with restrained power. Thus in all sentiment where 
there is a strong purpose or great passion there 
is slight tremolo, which suggests superabundant 

Various qualities oi voice are distinguished, though 
the distinction is a popular rather than a scientific 
one. Some are an admixture of several kinds, 
producing an unpleasant effect. Much has been 
said by foreigners about the American voice ^ and 
undoubtedly as a people our voices are subject to 
criticism. This voice is heard rarely in the South, 
but is frequent in the Northern states and New 


Bngland. It is a combination of several elements; 
usually the pitch is high, accompanied by more or 
less nasality, and the notes are rasping and abrupt. 
To speak in a lower key does not entirely remedy 
the difficulty, since the other faults make it appear 
higher than it actually is. The remedy is to avoid 
nasality, to make the sounds smooth and clear, and 
to acquire some flexibility of utterance. Undue 
eagerness in speech should be avoided, but of course 
those who monopolize conversations and have very 
much to say will not heed this suggestion. An 
angular voice is the expressive agent of an angular 
nature, but, nevertheless, there are many persons 
who have acquired a voice untrue to their senti- 
ments and to themselves. It may be that climate 
and the hustle and jar of business are responsible 
for this peculiar utterance, but still it may be 

Some difficulty is at times experienced in deter- 
mining the exact key natural to an individual. 
Through abuse, imitation, or mere habit, the voice 
is frequently pitched too high. Many public speak- 
ers use too high a key, it is a prevalent fault Often 
the discourse begins in a normal way, then rises step 
by step until it is a mere shriek. Nervousness and 
diffidence, and even great enthusiasm, tend to ele- 
vate the voice. At times the remedy lies altogether 
in self-control; but in any event, continued high 
pitch should be checked, since it takes from the 
force of utterance, tires the speaker and the au- 
dience, and represents largely unreasonable and 
imcontroUed excitement. Deep thought, great ear- 
nestness, or even strong passion, rarely requires 


shouting and an elevated pitch. Some voices are 
pitched too low ; they resemble a growl, and rarely 
have any charm of intonation or a pleasant flexibil- 
ity. They may have been acquired, as in the case 
of the clergyman who told Mr. Murdoch that he had 
paid five hundred dollars to acquire such a voice, 
and was willing to pay a thousand to be rid of it ; or 
this, too, may be habit. The pitch may be changed 
by some systematic practice, as reading or speaking 
in a higher key, if necessary using a musical instru- 
ment to hold the pitch. 

Head tones and chest tones have been subjects of 
much discussion, and some very peculiar theories 
have been advanced. The first term is descriptive 
but the latter is not. There are certain resonators 
which help to increase the volume of sound; these 
are mere open cavities in which the sound rings, 
and in which it is reinforced on its passage from the 
larynx. As has been stated, there are these cavities 
in the nasal passages and at the base of the nose. 
When these are used almost exclusively as reso- 
nance chambers, a head tone results. By a single 
effort one may illustrate this, and the voice will ap- 
pear to be higher, though the fundamental pitch is 
not raised. Chest tones were thought, formerly, 
and by some even yet, to receive their resonance in 
the chest. Some have vaguely supposed that the 
voice was some way produced in the chest and 
simply escaped through the mouth. All the laws of 
physiology and the principles of common sense 
teach that the initial sound is made in the larynx, 
and as the breath keeps passing upwards this sound 
can never return to be reinforced. So-called chest 



resonance is in fact mouth or oral resonance^ the re- 
inforcement taking place in the mouth and throat. 
If the jaw is dropped well downward and outward 
and the tongue is dropped the larynx will be slightly 
depressed and a deeper tone will be sounded, even 
without any change of pitch. This is important to 
the teacher of voice, for frequently a voice which 
seems high in pitch, but is in reality only light in 
quality, may be made to have a deeper quality with- 
out radically changing its fundamental pitch. 


THERE is one requirement of speech that cannot be 
overlooked — it must reach the understanding 
of those to whom it is directed. All the graces of 
delivery and the shades of interpretation fall, if the 
voice of the speaker does not carry to its objective 
point. This reaching power of the voice is called 
enunciation. The first requirement is that the audi- 
tor should hear; the second, that he should hear 
with ease, and the third that he should hear with 

Frequently certain words and syllables are caught 
without effort, while others are indistinct. This 
taxes the hearer's mind in a conscious or uncon- 
scious effort to piece out the discourse and to sur- 
mise its meaning. It is like reading a blurred and 
blotted page, or an old manuscript when certain 
parts are destroyed and must be supplied. Under 


such circumstances one need not expect his dis- 
course to have weight, since the minds of the andi- 
ence are centered on the mechanical difficulties. In 
the following statement, if those parts of the words 
italicized are obscured or dropped out, the hearer is 
compelled to guess at the meaning: — 

Who can understand his nron ? Ctesnse thou me from 

serr^/ faults. 

To one unacquainted with the passage this ndgfat 

be understood: — 

Who can understand his hearers ? Clftaism tiioa me from 

serious faults. 

This is frequently about what is presented to the 

ear: — 

Though I speak tongues men dovANGBLSb 

-nd -uv not charity, I-m become -s sotmdiag brass -— — tink 


Enunciation, regarded mentally, is a matter of 
purpose and intention. Within reasonable limits 
we usually reach with the voice the person we have 
a definite intention of reaching. Take a child into 
a large hall and he will make you hear across an in- 
tervening space without conscious effort ; but have 
him recite to an audience in the same building and 
his voice may not carry one-half the distance, even 
though there is perfect quiet. In this case it is not 
a matter of vocal ability but of a mental condition. 

The voice usually reaches the object which we 
specifically wish to reach, because in a sense it is 
focused there as rays of light are concentrated. 


We are constantly adapting our voices to persons at 
different distances, a^d usually have no difficulty in 
making ourselves understood. The best principle 
to be followed in speaking to one or to many is to 
look at your auditor or audience with the ever pres- 
ent desire that they shall get your meaning. It is a 
natural requirement of speech both in conversation 
and public address. It is not only requisite for 
enunciation, but for every element of expression. 
It helps us unconsciously to adapt our forms of ut- 
terance to the requirements of the audience and of 
the occasion, and it usually results in natural speech. 
Several elements should be present in speech, either 
conversation or public discourse : we must have a 
thought; it should be worthy of the occasion; we 
must present it directly, and must constantly be 
aware of its effect. There is a delivery which may 
be termed introspective, in which the mind seems 
to deal only with the thought, and when the speaker 
Ulks as though he were communing with himself. 
It has the effect of a soliloquy. Normal speech con- 
templates two parties (at least, the speaker and the 
hearer), and both are factors in expression, the listener 
being a strong power for suggestion and direction. 
The chief direction for enunciation is to talk directly 
and specifically at something, normally to a person 
or to persons, since it is this human contact that is the 
life of speech, that guides and directs it. 

To consider it mechanically and technically, we 
shall observe several important factors, the first of 
which is the natural quality or timbre of the voice. 
Some voices are naturally clear, resonant, and pene- 
trating, while others are dull, muffled, and indis- 


tinct. A clear tenor speaUng voioe carries and 
penetrates, while a deep baas reacheSi largely, 
through mere volume. There may be diseases of 
the throat which render the voioe kusfy^ and growths 
or obstructions in the nasal passages may interfere 
with the natural resonance. The quality may be im» 
proved by intelligent vocal drill, and obsbmctions 
removed by the surgeon. 

Good, clear articulation is indispensable — not 
mouthing, but that form in which each word and 
syllable stands out clearly and distinctly. Words 
and syllables are often telescoped^ and out of the 
wreckage of a splendid train of .words we may 
gather only broken fragments. A reporteTi in de- 
scribing an impassioned political address, said, 
^^ The speaker got so warm that his words melted 
and ran into one molten mass.* Any student may 
remedy defects of articulation himself by speaking 
carefully and distinctly, and by reading aloud, with 
the end in view of clearly pronouncing and properly 
spacing words and syllables. He should be careful 
not to overdo it, since a stifled and precise utterance 
is offensive. A person's speech is not designed to 
attract attention either for its faults or virtues, but 
to be a perfect mirror in which our thoughts are 

It should be remembered, too, that all elements 
in utterance are not equally prominent at all timeSi 
but all should be present and each should be given 
its value. At times one hears speech in which cer- 
tain words are blurted out and others totally ob- 
scured, which sets the hearer jumping from word to 
word and guessing what is betweexL Speech is like 


the surface of a country : it may undulate, disclosing 
hills and valleys; it may be a level plain, suggesting 
monotony, or it may present a series of ridges be- 
tween which the valleys are lost in eternal shadows. 
Reasonable variety is the desired end. With these 
principles in view any one may practice intelligently 
for enunciation. Let him talk at something, select- 
ing the distance, and use as little effort as possible 
in producing a given voice; endeavor to make each' 
word and syllable clear, without mouthing, and 
bend all efforts to secure a natural, clear-flowing 


THE vocal instrument of the human being is capa- 
ble of expressing an almost infinite variety of 
sentiment, and this ability is the result of education. 
We are constantly forming new ideas together with 
the capacity to utter them; and as our habits of 
thought are governed by hereditary impulse and 
environment, so are the methods of expressing 
them. Consequently, an idea usually harmonizes 
with the general character of one who conceives it, 
and the expression is apt to be in accordance with 
both the sentiment and the character. But these 
principles are not absolute ; there may be a conflict 
between hereditary tendencies and environment, 
and between our ideas and our powers to express 
them. We may know what we cannot tell, or what 
we are imable to adequately portray. It is here 


that the science of expression has its field; through 
it the student is enabled to correct what is unnatural 
to men generally, and to himself in particular. Then 
follows positive work, through which he may catch 
glimpses of vocal possibilities of representing his 
ideas as they are, fully and truthfully. 

But it has a much higher aim, for since it is im- 
possible to entirely disassociate thought from ez- 
pression, so it is equally difficult to separate 
expression from thought, and therefore, from either 
standpoint, we shall secure mental discipline and 
development. To endeavor to express in any form 
a great idea, gives us a fuller comprehension of 
that idea, and hence the only fact we need to con- 
sider is whether it is worth expressing. It has been 
said that, *that which we know we can tell,* but 
it is also true that, that which we can properly tell 
we adequately know. The ultimate object of all 
education is not to know but to do. We are not con- 
tent with mere information or mental ability; it is 
only when it expresses itself, touching at some 
points the lives of others, that it reaches fruition 
and satisfies human desire. Expression as an ele- 
ment in education is becoming more widely recog- 
nized each decade. The student of literature not 
only must study, but he must endeavor to also 
create, however crudely, literature himself. Lab- 
oratory work in science is a recognition of the fact 
that one's knowledge is to be tested finally by what 
he can do. Medical students practice medicine, law 
students hold mock courts, and young theologians 
practice in delivering discourses. It is a recogni- 
tion of the idea that practice must attend preaching. 


and that practice must govern theory. The opin- 
ion that theory and practice must necessarily differ 
in some respects is erroneous so long as both are 
correct. All theory is tediously built up from prac- 
tice, and when the former does not harmonize with 
the latter it is wrong and must be readjusted. The 
conclusion to be reached from this is that proper 
expression is a necessary element in the acquisition 
of exact knowledge. 

It is sometimes urged against the study of elocu- 
tion that it makes a person affected, and that the 
elocutionist is frequently one with a loud voice, a 
peculiar manner, and a shallow mind. The answers 
to such statements are obvious; that which makes a 
person tmtrue is not elocution but a base imitation. 
If necessary we could say that every teacher of the 
subject is wrong in theory, but the conclusion would 
be that the theory needed radical readjustment. 
Elocution we believe to be slighted because any 
number of shallow persons exhibit to the admiring 
public that which is emphatically not elocution. 

It is our purpose in the following pages to lay 
down a few principles, accompanied by examples, 
which are deduced from an extended observation of 
normal habits of speech. All authority is to be 
questioned unless the purpose of the author is sub- 
jected to analysis and found to be correct. What 
theories are presented are believed to represent the 
actual speech of the average cultured man and 
woman, and eccentricities, even of celebrities, are 
« »— 16 



THE vocal organs produce a variety of sounds; 
these resolve themselves into two groups, 
speech and song. The latter is peculiarly adapted 
to the rendition of sentiment representing feeling; 
it is the voice of the emotions, while speech may 
adequately express every phase of human mentality. 
We rarely sing an argument or a narrative, or selec- 
tions representing great volition. But speech covers 
the whole realm, even that of sentiment adapted to 
music, and therefore is the common and normal 
mode of utterance. 

The chief distinction lietween the two is one of 
movement : — 

The note of song has the Bame nvmbor of TlbxA- 
tions during its continuance; it does not change ia 
pitch during utterance, but the scale repreaenti a 
series of distinct steps. 

Speech notes are inflected; almost every word or 
syllable changes pitch during its utterance, (. <-., it 
increases or decreases in the ntimber of vibrations 
while being sounded. 

Observe, however, that the wonU in song can be 
set to a variety of music without detracting from 
the pleasurable effect, while in Speech the expres- 
sion of the idea, within certain limits, depends 
upon exact inflections of the voice: for instance, ob- 
serve the erroneous impresaimi if • falling inflection 
is placed on any word not so naarited, or if a rising 
inflection is substituted for a UJSag. It will also 


be clear that every syllable has some intonation 
which is absent in a note of song; u e,^ there is a 
change of pitch during its utterance. 

Inflection is peculiarly the language of intelli- 
gence. It furnishes us a medium with which we 
discriminate between ideas and express them with 
all their subtleties. A word represents the general 
idea, while a peculiar movement of the voice in its 
utterance impresses the shade of meaning intended. 
For example : well uttered with rising inflection, in- 
terrogates; but with falling inflection, consents. 
The following colloquy may be condensed into two 
words by the use of proper inflections, as : — 

Passkngbk: Does this train go to Boston? 

Conductor: Yes ; this train goes to Boston. 

Passenger : Boston ? 

Conductor: Boston. 

The grand divisions of sentiment which are 
marked by inflections may be termed broadly the 
positive and the negative. In the former the 
falling inflection is prominent, and in the latter 
the rising. 

In uncertainty, incompleteness, or where there is 
mental suspense or poise, the voice is sustained 
without any decided upward or downward move- 
ment. When this runs into interrogation or inquiry 
the most significant word will probably be spoken 
in an upward inflection ; but when a fact is assured, 
a statement completed or a positive idea advanced, 
the chief word in the clause or group of words 
which contains the positive statement takes the fall- 
ing inflection. 


In the following examples the sustained words 
are in ordinary type, those requiring rising inflec- 
tions in italics, and those with falling inflections in 
capitals: — 

Shall we oontinne this strife t NO ; the war is OVER. 
We should bniy its passions with its DEAD. 

Am I to be loaded with calumny and not suffered to resent 
or r^r/r/ it? NO; God FORBID! 

Not all questions in form are interrogatories in 
meaning. When they imply a decision in the mind 
of the speaker the chief word takes the falling 
rather than the rising inflection. Thus : • Do you 
think it is my duty? • suggests deference to your 
opinion; while: •Do you think it is my DUTY ?• 
shows a strong opinion on your part that it is not. 
Changing the inflection to any other word, as on 
yau^ has the same effect. 

We have seen that the chief word in a positive 
clause takes the falling inflection, while in an inter- 
rogative expression the voice is sustained or rises 
in interrogation. We shall find now that in the ut- 
terance of sentiments of doubt and indecision, 
where the thought is neither of decision nor inquiry, 
but lingers between both, the voice neither rises 
nor falls, but wavers between both, as, for ex- 
ample : — 

Do you think so? Perhaps you are right, but let us think a 

Let me see, let me see, is not the leaf tum'd down where I 
left reading? Here it is, I think. 

Observe that where the indecision or hesitancy is 
shown in a word or clause, that word, or the princi- 


pal words of the clause, will represent a wavering 
movement. But where it continues through whole 
paragraphs it may be made up in sentences which 
question and others which assert, and therefore 
rising and falling inflections will be used. 

Mental duplicity shows itself instantly in the voice ; 
where there is an attempt to conceal a sinister pur- 
pose behind an attempt at generous, open words 
there will be a sinuous movement. A good exam- 
ple is found in the speech of Dickens's Pagan. 
Irony and sarcasm, where the double meaning is 
apparent, and where there is a deliberate attempt to 
convey two meanings, are shown in the zig-zag 
movement or a joining of both rising and falling 
inflections, as: — 

Hath a dog money ? 

Oh^ isn't he nice t 

•Tls true, this god did shake! 

You, you call yourself a gentleman ! 

It is important to notice that, as our meaning is 
suggested largely by the use of the inflection, so the 
insistence on that meaning is shown by an insistence 
on the inflection in utterance. In other words, as 
an inflection points out what we mean its duration 
shows how much we mean it. An idea is rarely ex- 
pressed more forcibly by a large voice, and fre- 
quently the most emphatic statement depends upon 
the inflection (or slide) almost entirely. This is 
seen in: — 

Hence! home, yon idle creatores, get yon hornet is this « 
holiday f 

How beautiful, how glorious it is. 

A sin^^lc definite purpose in the mine 
suits in some decided action ; this is she 
voice and movement. Under such a cc 
inflections move almost in straight lin 
though when there is an insistence on a 
may have considerable length. Yet thi 
time, but of compass: that is to say, the 
sweep through the range of several notej 
move through the same range slowly, 
tellectual statements or expositions nea 
express themselves in straight line tones. 

But the expression of sentiments of b 
mony, or any elevated emotion tends to 
curves. This is true of both vocality x 
movement. This is in harmony with v 
laws exemplified in both nature and art, 
and angles represent strength and definit 
while undulating lines represent the be 

The foUowincT examples ixnll •r«**^t^«^^•^ 


Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western seal 
Low, low, breathe and blow. 
Wind of the western sea! 
Over the rolling waters go; 
Come from the dying moon and blow. 
Blow him again to me; 
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

— Tennyson, 

A long sentence often may be made most emphatic 
by inflecting a single word, and generally good 
reading or speaking does not require much inflec- 
tion, but rather that which is discriminating and 
well placed. One may find some excuse for pound- 
ing out every word, but the result is that nothing is 

The following will be explanatory: — 

Brutus, I do observe you now of late. 

I have not from your eyes that gentleness 

And show of love as I was wont to have. 

— Shakespeare, 

Horatio sa3rs *tis but our fantasy^ 

And will not belief take hold of him 

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us; 

Therefore I have entreated him along 

With us to watch the minutes of this night. 

That if again this apparition come. 

He may approve our eyes and speak to it 


In all of the above emphatic words there is no 
more voice used than uttering those of the context, 
neither are all the elements in the word made more 
prominent. An emphatic word is the result of a 


or ooloring given chiefly to the vowel in the 
accented syllable; the rest of the word stands prac- 
tically the same as in ordinary utterance. Hence, 
emphasis is a matter of easy accomplishment. In 
the following emphatic exclamations, only one vowel 
in the emphatic word in each takes the stress : — 

Isn't it beautiful! 

The war is inevitable. 

What is it the gentlemen desiref 

I would never lay down my arms. 

In speech the change of key is usually gradual. 
At times a conversation or a discourse is conducted 
without change of the fundamental pitch. Still 
there may not be monotony, since the voice in the 
use of inflections plays up and down the scale, re- 
turning constantly to this basic key. But where 
every inflection radiates from this fundamental 
pitch, great monotony is the result. Notice the 
following: — 

you. Good- 
thank bye. 
mom- are well, 
Good ing. How yon? Oh, pretty 

In the following sentence the speaker may con- 
sider the whole as forming a continuous thought 
and connect the clauses in his delivery : — 

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth 
upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and ded- 
icated to the proposition that all men are created equal. 

Or he may divide it into three groups, making as 
many complete thoughts, as follows (the parenthe- 


sized words being understood and thought of — not 
spoken) : — 

Fourscore and seven years ago, oar fathers brought forth 
upon this continent a new nation (that nation was), conceived 
In liberty, and (it was) dedicated to the proposition that all 
men are created equal. 

This distinction is important, since in normal, 
unpremeditated speech, as a rule, important and 
emphatic ideas are set forth as complete statements, 
whether grammatically rounded out or not. 

The emphatic word or clause may be in any part 
of the sentence. At times the important or em- 
phatic clause is first, but it should be interpreted 
without regard to position. The following emphatic 
words should be uttered with the same inflection in 
either position : — 

My theme is virtue. Virtue is my theme. Be- 
cause in one form theme is the last word it should 
not be made emphatic. Students may transpose 
selections, retaining the meaning but placing the 
words in positions where their proper rendition is 
easy, then endeavor to give the same expression as 
they stand in the original, as: — 

Out of the North the wild news came. 
The wild news came out of the North, 

Afterwhile we have in view 
Kfar scene to journey to. 

Afterwhile we shall journey to a far scene. 


THESE elements of speech are so closely associated 
that they may be considered together, and ex- 
amples illustrating one will serve for the other. 
Their variations, like all other vocal elements, 
depend upon the mental state and the physical 

Mental acceleration tunes up the body; it becomes 
more active and energetic, consequently the vocal 
bands are more highly tensioned and a greater num- 
ber of vibrations per second is produced, which 
produces a high pitch. Under such circumstances 
not only in a note is there an increased number of 
vibrations, but also the individual sounds are spoken 
more rapidly, which is fast time. It is a matter of 
general observation that most forms of excitement 
cause us to speak rapidly and in a higher key, while 
despondency or physical weakness produces sluggish 
movement or a low pitch. Joy, pain, anger, ter- 
ror, or any form of excitement, takes rapid rate and 
high pitch. In all of these observations one should 
notice, however, that emotions are often mixed ; for 
instance, one may be wildly excited and at the same 
time filled with awe, in which case the latter might 
predominate, as in the voice of Hamlet in seeing 
the ghost of his father. Sometimes, too, the voice 
is raised or lowered mechanically, not because the 
feeling suggests, but for a special purpose, the gen- 
eral principle may then be varied — as when one 
calls across a considerable distance the voice is on 


a high key in order to carry well, while the time is 
slow that the words may be understood. So, too, 
one may be excited and speak rapidly but softly for 
purposes of concealment. But the natural impulse 
is for one to use rapid rate when speaking in a high 
key and a slow rate upon a low key. 

Persons of an excitable, nervous temperament are 
almost invariably rapid talkers, and usually the key 
is above the average, while grave, ponderous per- 
sons speak deliberately on the lower notes. The 
young public speaker is almost certain to elevate his 
voice and talk too rapidly, for the reason that he is 
nervous and excited and not sure of himself. De- 
termined self-control will correct this habit; the 
time and pitch may always be regulated by a serious 

There are those, too, who imagine that an idea is 
emphasized by shrieking, when the contrary is true. 
Any form of excitement uncontrolled takes high 
pitch and rapid rate, but self-mastery holds the 
reins on the emotion, checks it and makes its im- 
pression stronger. No shrieked at the top of the 
voice may mean yes when the speaker has calmed 
down; but when uttered in firm tones on a lower 
pitch is rarely to be changed, because it suggests 
mental balance and self-control. A cultured person, 
with powers well disciplined, rarely shrieks or bawls, 
but clowns do. Loud strident voices, wild excla- 
mations, shrieks, and cries are the language of our 
more primitive or animal nature, in which reason and 
self-mastery have no part. Of course, in extreme 
conditions they are natural to all, but used habit- 
ually they bespeak *an understanding simple and 


nuchooled.* It is well to note, on the other hand, 
that we may easily assume to tones ponderons and 
grave, whidi are equally bad. 

Before an audience there is always a certain 
amount of nervousness or mental acceleration, but 
it must be under the dominion of the will. Given 
free rein it runs into absurdities. Controlled, it 
tends towards emphasis. It centers its powers on 
the expression of important ideas and manifests an 
earnestness which is desirable. As a rule nervous 
energy should not express itself in rapid rate and 
high pitch, but in the emphatic utterance of impor- 
tant ideas. We may store up this energy to be used 
where it is required. The following examples will 
suggest different degrees of time and pitch : — 

BftUTUs: Whether we shall meet again I know not 
Therefore our everlasting farewell take; 
For ever and for ever, farewell, Cassiusl 
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; 
If not, why, then this parting was well made. 

Casuub: For ever and for ever, farewell. Brutus! 
If we do meet again. we*ll smile indeed; 
If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. 

— Shakespeare, 

Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 

A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon; 

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl. 

Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, 

All scattered on the bottom of the sea; 

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 

(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, 

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep 

And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 

FORCE a53 

How sweet the hoar of Sabbath talk. 
The vale with peace and sunshine fall; 

Where all the happy people walk, 
Decked in their homespun flax and wool; 

Where youths' gay hats with blossoms bloom. 
And every maid with simple art 
Wears on her breast, like her own heart, 

A bud, whose depths are all perfume. 
While every garment's gentle stir 
Is breathing rose and lavender. 

— 7*. B, Reed. 

Green grow the rashes, O! 

Green grow the rashes, O! 
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, 

Are spent among the lasses, O. 
There's naught but care on every hand. 

In every hour that passes, O: 
What signifies the life of man. 

And 'twere not for the lasses, O? 

— Burns, 

Speed thee. Jew! Take the wall now! On! loose the 
Arabs ! give them rein and acourge ! Now or never, ♦ ♦ ♦ 

By Hercules ! the dog throws all his weight on the bit I 
see, I see ; if the gods help him not he will be run away with 
by the Israelite! No, not yet — Jove with us! Jove with us! 

^Lew Wallace. 


THE amount of force required in speech may be 
determined by the nature of the sentiment, or 
by the distance to be reached, or the space to be 
filled. A certain voltmie suggests strength and 


Tigor and is in itself commanding, but a big thought 
18 not neoessarily expressed in a big voice. 

So far as the reaching power of the voice is con- 
cerned, frequently voices are too loud, making an 
unpleasant reverberation ; besides, it is bad taste to 
shout at us that which we could easily hear without. 
A loud, stormy voice is apt to irritate and annoy an 
audience, and it usually occurs that when a speaker 
drops from this to a more quiet utterance a hush 
falls over the assemblage. An habitually loud voice 
usually accompanies a loud manner and loud cloth- 
ing. From the standpoint of expression, an idea is 
more often enforced by a firm tone and an intense 
ring of earnestness than by mere volume. 

Where passion masters judgment and feeling is 
uncontrolled there is usually a resultant loud voice. 
Such passages often occur in that which is strongly 
dramatic. At times, too, a statement startling in 
its nature, or a novel idea, requires force, but its 
use should be exceptional. In the following lines 
Hamlet's forced calm is infinitely more powerful 
than the boisterous speech of the thwarted king : — 

King: Now Hamlet, where's Polonias ? 

Hamlet: At supper. 

Kino: At supper ! where ? 

Hamlet: Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. 

A certain convocation of political worms are e*en at him 
* • * Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable 
irvloe, — two dishes, but to one table; that's the end. 

XiKO: Alas! alas! 

Hamlxt: a man may Rsh with the worm that hath eat of 
I king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. 


THERE is no doubt that the style of public address 
has been modified during the last half century, 
and that it is becoming less ornate and more sincere 
than ever before. Rarely now is ornamentation used 
for its own sake, but is employed solely to illustrate 
our ideas. In an age when the gentleman was as 
vain of his fine clothes as a belle, when the states- 
man was bedecked in lace and ruffles, with exquisite 
shoe buckles, and powdered wig, it was only nat- 
ural that there should be the most elaborate and 
grandiloquent oratory. But that age has passed, 
and has been succeeded by a period when men are 
less spectacular and self-conscious and are more 
earnest and direct in both thought and action. 

It has been regretted that the age of romance has 
passed and it is often said that this present age is 
practical, sordid, and inartistic. It may be doubted 
whether such is the case ; but certainly it is truer 
and, in the loftiest sense, more democratic. There 
are fewer shams and frauds and a greater ability to 
detect them. Of course we yet have ignorance, and 
wherever it exists there will be a parasite to feed 
and fatten upon it. But we have reached a point 
where it is the man and not the clothes, the picture 
and not the frame, the book and not the cover, 
which is the ideal of men. 

Then, too, in a former period in our own country 
we talked more of democracy but were less demo- 
cratic. It was that period of revolt against the 



tyranny of the past when our practices of life had 
not yet been brought into harmony with our 
theories. There yet lingered in the minds of men 
the great factor of authority, and ideas of church 
and state were given undue weight because of some 
power supposed to be inherent in the source from 
whence they sprang. Washington was the greatest 
aristocrat who has ever been called to the presi- 
dency, and the clergy of a former day gave reason- 
able argument only when they chose, and filled out 
the rest with dogma which the faithful were com- 
pelled to accept on pain of excommunication. 

The revolt of the colonies and the declaration that 
* men are created equal * inaugurated a new era. 
Growing out of this idea, and as a necessity to our 
political union, came the idea of the separation of 
church and state. This resulted in the enfranchise- 
ment of man, and placed his own judgment and 
conscience in supreme command. It took time to 
adjust our habits of thought to this new ideal; and 
not, perhaps, until we went so far as to carry out 
our declaration of the supremacy of the individual 
did the principle become absolute in practice. 

One has but to observe the methods by which 
great matters of government, of state, or of busi- 
ness are conducted, to form some idea of the require- 
ments of public address. The theory of democracy 
runs through them all. In our political campaign 
the country resolves itself into a great debating so- 
ciety, every member of which is entitled to be heard 
and is heard. Laws are made by bodies of men, 
each member of which has a voice. In business 
every stockholder has power to decide questions to 


the extent of his interest, and religious bodies are 
subject to the demands of a majority. Wherever 
there is parliamentary usage there is democracy, for 
imder its theory the humblest individual has all the 
rights and powers of any other member. 

Prom the above we may form our conclusions as 
to the prevalent style of public speech, and may 
also reach conclusions regarding what is really 
eflFective in delivery. 

There must be thought, accurate and searching, 
such as goes to the root of the subject under con- 
sideration. It must not consist of unsupported as- 
sertions accompanied by violent declamation. In 
substance it may not be startlingly novel or original, 
but it must be stated or construed in a plausible 
manner in the support of a proposition. The deliv- 
ery should be straightforward, simple, and earnest. 

Either great dignity or deference is usually out 
of place — the theory is equality. There are times 
when an attitude of pleasant familiarity is eflFective, 
but if this is employed on more serious or important 
occasions the effect is disastrous. A speaker must 
preserve his self-respect and his poise, and not allow 
timidity, self-esteem, or any other matter to inter- 
fere with this. 

A discourse based entirely upon facts, and pre- 
sented in a perfectly colorless tone, is usually 
exceedingly tedious and wearisome. Nearly all 
discourse needs illumination. An epigram, a short 
pithy illustration which illumines the idea, is eflFec- 
tive. A speaker should not be swayed a moment 
from his main purpose. Anecdotes and humorous 
descriptions are frequently indulged in because they 
ss — 17 


seem to please, when in fact they may not add one 
jot to tbe speaker's purpose. Perhaps he has do 
purpose only to tickle the fancy for a moment — in 
such a case he is of the order of the clown. 

He must show ability to feel ; we cannot kindle 
others until we ourselves feel the touch of fire. The 
sickening emotionalism so often observed is the 
product of surface feeling. True feeling in an ad- 
dress adds to the abstract thought a concrete effect; 
it shows the result of an idea upon tbe individuat 
No mere calculating machine, no cold-blooded stat- 
istician, was ever able to move and sway men. 

But the emotion must be true; it must be nnder 
control, it is rather suggestive than realistic; true 
in kind but moderate in degree. Scientific or math- 
ematical truth is colorless; it is entirely a product 
of reason or of observation, and its presentation is 
hindered by any show of feeling. But, on the other 
hand, a style whicn would present a great truth of 
religion or of government as a cold, abstract truth 
in which the individual has only an intellectual con- 
cern would be an absolute untruth. 

A speaker must be convinced of the tratb of his 
assertions to achieve the best results. Many per- 
sons, it is true, are good actors and can produce an 
impression, whether in sympathy with their own 
utterance or not; but, in general, conviction in our- 
selves tends to produce conviction in others. It is 
shown in the tone and manner, in ways impossible 
to the mere actor. When a speaker is clear in his 
ideas and is profoundly convinced of their truth he 
will find it difficult to rant. He may be earnest, 
impressive, powerful ; but this does not mean rant> 


ing. But one with a slender stock of ideas, and 
with a desire to be eloquent, has all the elements to 
make a most successful ranter. 

An unimportant idea does not become any more 
impressive by an endeavor at great emphasis; ordi- 
nary ideas look best in ordinary type — not in 
italics. And, too, only great thoughts carry with 
them great emotions, and, therefore, one who bub- 
bles over with feeling over every trivial statement 
is ineffective because he is shallow. 

Public address is, in every essential of thought, 
feeling, or delivery, a magnified picture of conver- 
sation, with the exception that there is but one 
speaker. As we speak to greater numbers of men 
our responsibilities are greater, and, therefore, our 
thoughts should be carefully considered and ar- 
ranged, our diction proper, and our manner more 
dignified. To secure the best vocal method and 
proper activity in presentation one should practice 
telling his thought to an individual or to an object, 
such as a chair. When he feels that he can do this 
as naturally as in conversation he may enlarge the 
picture, and he will discover the best style for de- 
livery. Not an inflection or gesture will be altered, 
but every power magnified. This will help to avoid 
the too common preaching tone. 

An audience is a congregation of individuals; the 
ordinary tones of unpremeditated speech are familiar 
to them. Unconsciously they compare the qualities 
of the voice of a speaker with the ordinary standards 
of daily speech. When in kind they are like to 
these they are convincing, because they are normal 
and true ; when they are not we think some one it 


preaching to us — that is, going through a mere 

Truth, in both matter and delivery, is the watch- 
word. Its possession carries conviction to our own 
minds, which we are apt to transmit to others. 
It makes us earnest and gives into our hands 
weapons we never imagined we could use. It re- 
quires us to clothe it in the most suitable expres- 
sion, yet restrains us from over-ornamentation 
which would belittle its majesty. It will not allow 
us to rant and rave since that is not becoming to its 
dignity, but encourages us to play the part of men 
while acting as its sponsors. 


THE proper development of children's voices should 
receive more attention than the fashions of 
their garments, since vocality is such an important 
element in our education, and because it is, next to 
general appearance, the most distinguishing feature 
of the individual. We have learned that the child's 
early associates make an indelible impression upon 
its character. One who hears nothing but slang 
will talk slang, and it is also true that the qualities 
of tone and habits of speech are governed very 
largfely by what we hear. Nasality, harshness of 
voice, and unnatural pitches are most probably the 
result of unconscious imitation, and when this is 
added to predisposition the result is an extreme. 


The high, thin, irritable voices of teachers and par- 
ents affect the child's nature as well as its habits of 
speech. There are families where the scolding tone 
is the rule of the parents; every child in that house- 
hold will adopt it as the normal method of speech. 
Consequently, abnormal vocal habits are acquired 
along with improper ideas of tone. It is difBcult to 
eliminate these faults at a later period in life, because 
the person has no ear for that which is normal, and 
he will consider pure tones as the language of affec- 
tation. If the tones heard in childhood were usually 
pure, gentle and kindly, there would be little need 
for vocal drill for any of these children in later years. 

The worst voices are heard in our schoolrooms; 
they are apt to be petulant, angular, and irritable. 
After a class has listened to this for hours every day 
through years, every member of it will to a degree 
represent the same faults both as to vocality and 
nervous make-up. Our teachers should be qualified 
in the speaking voice as a part of their fitness for 
their work. 


EVERY child should be taught something about 
music, whether he is expected to sing and play 
or not. It will help to form ideals of rhythm and 
harmony, and besides it will have a refining influ- 
ence on his nature. There are men who cannot tell 
one tune from another; such persons rarely have 
pleasant or effective voices, even in conversation. 


Very few persons become expert musicians, but all 
should have some practice in this branch for the 
general effect on both our voices and our concep- 
tions of tone. There is nothing better than singing 
in the home, where all join in because they desire to 
do so. Frequently, however, but one kind of music 
is heard; either boisterous, senseless jingles com- 
posed of the maudlin, absurd songs of the hour, or 
melancholy theological rhymes, which are repeated 
so often that they become ineffective. 

Music has been introduced into most of our schools, 
but usually it is of a character not qualified to refine 
our natures or give us an impression of tone values. 
There are songs, to accompany a march or physical 
exercises, which are about as melodious as mere 
marking time. There are also songs which set a 
premium on mere noise, and which have no liter- 
ary or musical merit, such as: ^* In days of spring 
the birds do sing,** etc. A little variety is desirable. 
The teacher should select the songs with a purpose, 
exercising as much care in this as in any other ex- 
ercise. There are bright rollicking songs; quiet, 
tender songs ; grave and serious hymns, and heroic 
and patriotic selections. Those who have no incli- 
nation to sing and have no ear for music need some 
individual help and encouragement. 

A teacher, too, with the exercise of a little thought 
and taste may point out the underlying motive of com- 
positions regarded both as literature and as music. 
This will assist in singing with proper feeling, and 
will produce an effect on our power to permanently 
discriminate between expressive tones and mere 
noise, both in music and in our own speaking voices. 


IN GENERAL with Children this should be discour- 
aged, since it is usually merely for spectacular 
purposes. A child who recites in public and makes 
a failure or breaks down has received an injury. 
He has lost confidence, is humiliated, and will 
never willingly attempt it again. Yet he is more 
fortunate than one who succeeds in winning ap- 
plause and a shower of compliments. The latter 
becomes spoiled immediately, is self-conscious and 
vain, and is in no position to receive instruction or 
suggestions. In most cases the applause from these 
grown people means a tribute to clothes, good looks, 
or a confident air. It is not because the selection 
was well rendered, but gratification that a child 
could do so well. But aside from this effect there is 
a tendency, in this public work in churches and 
large halls, to strain the voice. 

Very frequently the voices of both boys and girls, 
from such public singing and reciting, are hardened 
and coarsened, having lost all their natural sweet- 
ness and flexibility. We believe the rule of having 
our boys and girls constantly reciting or singing in 
public is indefensible, since it is merely for show. 
We do not expect them to teach us anything nor to 
impress any great truth. Usually they themselves 
do not understand what they are saying, but em- 
ploy tones and gestures as a parrot The more 
successful they are the more insufferable they be- 


AT THAT period in a boy's life when his tones are 
losing their treble and taking on the heavier 
quality of the bass, the voice may be permanently 
injured by any constant or unnatural strain. At 
such times it is not only unwise but also dangerous 
to attempt to sing the parts, especially where much 
voice is required. Boys who sing in choirs rarely 
have good voices in their more mature years, espe- 
cially if they are soloists, for the reason that the strain 
is too great. So when the voice is changing they 
should not be allowed to continue with such work 
until after vocal readjustment. At this age of life 
there should be no elaborate or trying vocal exercise. 
Frequently voices will change almost within a 
week, while again it is the process of years. The 
difficulty arises at times by reason of a lack of ear. 
The boy doesn't know what pitch sounds the best, or 
the difference between different notes, and, there- 
fore, his voice roams at will all up and down the 
scale. At times it will be found that by taking the 
key of his lowest note (that is, his evident new 
pitch) and accompanying it by an instrument (or 
even without), and by softly singing or speaking on 
this note, the pupil can follow with certainty. This 
should not be continued long, as nature needs as- 
sistance — not forcing. In many cases the normal 
change is not effected, by reason of abnormal 
growths in the nose or throat; and if the voice does 
not change normally and within a reasonable time 
a surgeon should be consulted, 


IN ALMOST every community there are persons with 
some malformation of the organs of speech, and 
people have the impression that they are *not 
bright, ^ or that there is * something wrong * with 
their minds, that they are * queer, ® etc. There is 
usually an impression that the physical abnormality 
is in keeping with the mental state, and that even 
an operation from the physical standpoint would 
not rectify any mental deficiency or bias. But this 
view has been discarded by science, and in its stead 
has grown the theory that such persons are not nor- 
mally developed, because of a lack of the full use of 
their vocal organs. For while we speak because we 
have intelligence, yet we have intelligence because 
we speak. When utterance is interfered with the 
greatest power for mental development has been 
destroyed. There are persons undoubtedly who are 
almost idiotic, whose powers of speech, because of 
serious oral defects, are limited to the utterance of 
a few almost unintelligible sounds. 

Parents should ascertain at an early period in the 
life of their children whether there is any natural 
impediment in speech. If there is not they should 
provide ample means for the encouragement of 
proper vocality, and by^all reasonable means develop 
it along proper lines. If it is found that there is 
some defect or malformation, even though not 
great, it should have the treatment of a specialist. 
Even if the deformity seems great it may be easy to 

removal ot some great vocal imp( 
course, after the operation the change 
but is rather a matter of rapid growl 
to remember that a child's constant i 
numerous questions are necessary inci 
tal growth, and that intelligent spee 
encouraged. The silent child rarely 


THE mental and physical natures of 
each other. A touch of ill heall 
our thoughts and make us morbid 
Then the body, too, is under the don 
intellect, and is a ready servant wh; 
master's whim. A fine example of tt 
is found in the play of Richelieu. Tht 
Cardinal is represented as weak an- 
health. He is about to yield to his f 
wrath is aroused by the infamous dei 


But it is only for an instant thus his: feeble healtn 
asserts itself and he becomes again the childish old 

In physical expression two things are represented : 
the state of the mind and bodily condition. Almost 
every emotion seeks an outward sign ; it may be an 
elevated brow, the curl of the lip, dilated nostrils, 
a head shake, a heaving chest, or movement of the 
limbs. Broadly speaking, too, a person's face and 
figure usually represent what he or she is, the stamp 
being some guarantee of the material. But added 
to the expression of mere form and position, which 
may be said to mark our general characteristics, is 
that of action or movement, which represents the 
play of the mind and expresses its various passing 

But physical expression, too, is the language di- 
rectly of physical condition, since health, vitality, 
weakness and disease are all shown in many ways: 
in the step, the color, the carriage, the eye, in short 
in every feature, position, or movement. There 
may be a conflict between the mind and the body, 
and where the former is active and imperious it may 
sway and dominate in a large measure a weak and 
diseased body. 

In observing the laws governing voice as an in- 
strument of expression, the above ideas should be 
observed, since voice is the servant of the master 
mind that performs its duties hand in hand with 
physical expression ; yet at the same time it, too, is 
physical and tends to express directly the conditions 
of bodily health, energy, lassitude, or disease. To 
illustrate: physical weakness usually shows itself in 



a dull eye, a drooping carriage, and sluggish move- 
ments. The voice tends to weakness and indistinct- 
ness. Our mental vision, too, may be described as 
looking through colored spectacles. But let the 
mind be aroused by a great purpose, and become 
dominant, the carriage will become erect, the eye 
flash, the movements take on vigor, and the voice 
will become clear, sharp, and decided. 

It will be seen that the elements entering into 
voice are mentality and physical condition or 
health, and as we credit the dictum that a sound 
mind dwells more often in a sound body than other- 
wise, we must also conclude that a sound voice is 
the result of the two. The great vocal artists are 
jealous of their health, for voice is the result of 
muscular action, and the muscles are controlled by 
the nerves; therefore, anything impairing normal 
nervous control is detrimental to the best singing or 
speaking. It is unnecessary to give directions for 
fresh air, exercise, and other requisites to good 
health, since they are generally known, and he who 
will not care for his health for its own sake will 
rarely do so for the sake of the voice, unless indeed 
his professional career depends upon it. Now, as it 
is seen that both voice and gesture are the expres- 
sive agents of one master (the mind), and as they 
are both physical, it is only natural to presume that | 
they work in harmony, and such is the case. It ( 
seems desirable, then, to consider their points of I 
relation, and to allow each to assist the other. 

fn the expression of gentleness, ease, and kindliness \ 
the muscular action is slight and the body in a state j 
of repose; consequently, the throat is relaxed i 


there is no vocal effort, and the voice, like the 
movement of the body, will be easy and graceful. 
On the other hand, rage and violence tend towards 
rigid muscular action, the eye is set and seems to 
flash because of the tension of the brows, the hands 
clench, and the muscles of the throat become so 
contracted that the voice is harsh and rasping. 

Timidity and fear produce nervousness and a de- 
sire to suppress expression, the voice wanders along 
purposeless and indistinct, and the words and syl- 
lables are jumbled without much meaning. The 
gesture will be the same : halting, timid, meaning- 
less. When a word means something to us the voice 
puts upon it a peculiar stress to show that mean- 
ing, and the gesture will as confidently insist upon 
it. But as speech without meaning is expressed in 
sing-song, so the gesture is a mere wave of the hand 
or nervous movements of the fingers, expressive of 
nothing save nervousness. 

A swaggering^ boisterous cliaracter^ to whom we 
apply the term *loud,* usually speaks in loud, 
strident tones ; the movements of the body, too, are 
extravagant : a swaggering position, feet wide apart, 
and sweeping gestures. 

Deference is expressed in timid, halting tones, 
with many an uncertain inflection ; the body, too, 
inclines and bows, the hands appeal, and every 
movement lacks confldence. 

Dignity and arrogance express themselves in 
measured tones, the voice varying but little from 
the fundamental pitch, most of the inflections being 
downward and decided. Then there is little gesture 
— perhaps a wave of the hand or a deliberate move* 


ment of the body ; it is shown in the positive, delib- 
erate stride, and the slow half -turn of the head. 

As the volume of voice increases, the bodily move- 
ments are magnified. One may read or speak to an 
individual with a light voice and slight gesticula- 
tions; but in uttering the same sentiment before a 
large audience, as the voice increases in volume there 
will be a tendency toward sweeping gesticulations. 

Statcvicnts of piire fact^ positive assertions^ and 
deter mijiatioji are expressed in straight line move- 
ments by both voice and gesture. The time is 
short and there is no wave or undulating movement 
in either. 

Emotional titteranccs^ such as tenderness, beauty, 
love, and all aesthetic ideas, take time for their ex- 
pression, the mind lingers over them, and the lines 
of the voice and gesture are graceful and undulat- 
ing. A graceful wave of the hand and a quick, 
sharp utterance at the same moment are almost im- 

Ordinary un impassioned ideas are expressed in 
short, straio^ht lines, both of voice and gesture, but 
where an idea is insisted upon the word containing 
it has a long inflection and the bodily movement 
takes a longer sweep. 

It should be noticed that the length of both an in- 
flection and a gesture may be measured by the time 
of their assertion or by the distance through which 
they pass. A gesture may move through a given 
space rapidly or slowly, and an inflection may sweep 
through an octave rapidly or deliberately. 

While gesture may be described as being high or 
low, these terms as applied to voice are only figura- 


tive, since a high note is simply one where the num- 
ber of vibrations is great, and a low note the 
opposite. But, nevertheless, the two expressive 
agents harmonize in this, too. There is a tendency, 
in exalted sentiment, such as joy, hope, in fact all 
elevated ideas, to elevate the chest and shoulders, 
to lift the head, and to raise the eyes. All human 
beings have elevated their beneficent gods and 
placed their demons in subterranean places; col- 
leges are placed on eminences, church spires point 
skyward, and flags flutter from topmasts, where the 
eye must be elevated to reach them. 

All of the loftier sentiments, then, are placed high 
by gesture and position, and the voice is raised to a 
pitch above the ordinary; sentiments of ordinary 
experience are placed in the middle realm ; while 
those of a debased nature (as contempt or loathing) 
are low, both as expressed in voice and gesture. 

It should not be forgotten that when gesture ac- 
companies voice the word where the thought cul- 
minates takes the emphasis of both voice and 
gesture. The hand may move through the utter- 
ance of a number of words, but it comes to rest on 
the word that the voice touches with a peculiar 

We may observe, also, that as there are many 
words uttered with slight emphasis or coloring, so 
there are many gestures, modest and unobtrusive, 
which show life, interest, and animation, and which 
have little purpose beyond this. But our main pur- 
pose should be to seek the harmonies of expression, 
the relation between the mental and the physical, 
and the divisions of the latter into voice and ges- 


tare. The tendency is to work in anison, and this 
should be encouraged, since the end in view is ade- 
quate expression, and that naturalness which all 
admire but which so few attain. 

The greater the animation or excitement the 
greater the tendency to increase this range. In 
bright and happy utterance the voice plays up and 
down through several notes, while in gravity or 
solemnity or any depression there is little variation 
from the fundamental pitch. The extremes are 
noted in ignorance and excitability, coupled with 
mental weakness, where the voice may be constantly 
running through an octave, while great dignity 
and egotism result in a measured monotonous voice 
that rarely varies from a single pitch. 

As a rule the falling inflection begins at a point 
above the mean pitch and the rising inflection below 
it. For this reason these are often mistaken each 
for the other. In the following, downward inflec- 
tions are used, the italicized word shows the point 
from which it falls: — 

(Tame) The charge \& false. 

(Animated) The charge is 
(Clerical) The charge is 


The longer the slide, the farther away from the 
mean pitch it begins ; thus a long falling slide be- 
gins at a high pitch, and a long rising slide at a 
low one. 

Expression depends directly upon our present 
mental conception of the thought we attempt to 


Utter, and indirectly upon the printed page, or upon 
our previous conception, or upon some other pri- 
mary cause. Therefore, in reading we are represent- 
ing our own mental states as they have been formed 
by some previous suggestion. The language of the 
book, punctuation, and grammatical construction 
are mere aids to suggest thought, but we do our 
own thinking. It has been demonstrated by every 
test that punctuation is no direct guide to expres- 
sion. It is invaluable to break up the sentence into 
parts so the eye may quickly discern the relations of 
the words; but we must form our own judgment of 
the form of expression afterwards and follow it. 

We read or speak by groups of words expressing 
a thought complete in our mind. This thought 
may not be expressed in a full, grammatical sen- 
tence, the other words being supplied mentally and 
implied in a tone. And thus a complete thought 
may be uttered which would lack some words, 
grammatically considered. 


WHILE this treatise deals primarily with the vocal 
elements, and does not contemplate any ex- 
haustive study of expression, yet the principles gov- 
erning the formation of the elements of sound into 
speech are so important as to require a passing no- 
tice. No one will fail to appreciate the necessity of 
breaking the flow of a speech or essay into groups 
of words or sounds, in order that the mind may 

a 9—18 

latter are made up of seuter 
itals and periods; and the mi 
ation show more or less clei 
cl&uses. Going still farther w 
their individual colorings; a 
ments which compose these, 
sonnds of the language. 

All of these divisions must b 
Is to be natural and effective ai 
made clear; the marks of pi 
guides to the eye, which sim 
judgments of these groupings, 
lute in their meanings and ' 
slavishly. There is only one ] 
paragraph or sentence, while 
indicate breaks in the flow of 
their degrees. Two complete ; 
ically considered, may in thoug 
nected that they are spoken a 
clauses may be given in effect i 
separate and distinct utteranci 


speech resolves itself into a simple one — the mas- 
tery of these. Unfortunately, the student is fre- 
quently perplexed by the difficulty that always 
arises from the effort to reduce sounds to print. 
Much of this confusion, however, is unnecessary, 
and a few words of explanation may be of assist- 
ance in making the matter clearer. 

The first element of confusion consists in repre- 
senting a number of sounds by the same symbol: 
thus a is uttered in five or six different ways in as 
many words; whereas, if each sound had its own 
symbol, and that were its name, the problem would 
be very much less complex. 

The next difficulty consists in having two or more 
symbols for the same sound, or in using a symbol 
which borrows a sound. For example : c always is 
represented by the sound of s or k^ and has no sound 
of its own. Likewise ku represents ^, and x is really 
a combination of ks or gz. So, too, we learn that 
the sound of Italian a is that heard in such words 
as father or calm^ but short o is its equivalent and 
might be employed instead. 

Another element of confusion is the vaiying 
markings of these sounds in our dictionaries; each 
has its own system, and each enumerates sounds 
not to be foimd in the others. Then, too, in the re- 
spelling of words for the purpose of indicating their 
phonetic quality combinations are employed which 
do not represent the real sounds, thus the sound of 
broad a is usually represented as aw^ when in fact 
the consonant is not uttered. 

We have now reached a point where it becomes 
advisable to introduce a series of practical vocal 


exerdseSy although no system can be pat on paper 
with anything like completeness. The exercises 
need to be varied in many ways; but if the pnpil 
will endeavor to grasp the underlying principles, 
these together with his own needs will be guides in 
assisting him to adapt and vary each series. The 
first thing necessary to notice is that our language 
is made up of a number of elements which may, 
generally speaking, be uttered separately, and 
which, variously combined, form the words of our 
language. Care should be exercised in the begin- 
ning to note that the names of the letters are not 
usually their real sounds, and in exercising, only 
the latter should be used. The table on the oppo- 
site page will give the elementary sounds of our 

The marks and nomenclature, it must be observed, 
are often defective ; for instance : the symbol of 00 
does not represent two sounds of o joined, but is a 
symbol to represent a peculiar tone ; oi is not a com- 
bination of the sounds of o and /; nor do the terms 
long and short as applied to vowels refer to the 
length of time in uttering them. 

The student should master these elementary 
sounds and be able to detect them, and should then 
endeavor to give them with precision wherever they 
occur in words. A faulty pronunciation is as objec- 
tionable as bad grammar, and it is shown most often 
in the utterance of the little words which are em- 
ployed in almost every sentence. They are spoken 
so frequently that they make good speech or badly 
mar it. It would take too much space to entmierate 
them, but the toUowing will suggest the classes. 



Table of Sounds 














































































■ or k 

































The vowel in 

these is intermediate a and not short ^^| 

a as so often 





,^ ■ 






b-k H 



u^ H 



a<t H 




The coalescents ar and er 

are frequently mis-^H 


the former becoming short a joined:^^| 

with r and the latter like the sound of ur. The dis^-^B 

tinction may 

be observed in the following: — ^H 









surge ^H 



purge ^H 



urge ^m 

A common 

fault is sounding 

short like broad IC^^I 

as in such words as : — 










r>i ■ 



Strang ^H 




Italian a 

s frequently improperly changed Ui(^| 

short a and at times to broad a 

in such words as:-— ^^| 






half ^1 



calf H 



calm ^H 



gauat ^H 



gape ^^1 




The sound of long u is greatly abused in a long 
list of words, by changing it into long oo^ as in : — 



















A combination of sounds uttered by one impulse 
of the voice is a syllable. Every syllable has a 
vowel, and every vowel uttered, together with a 
consonant sound or sounds, makes a syllable. 

In all words of two or more syllables one of these 
has the chief stress or accent. Proper pronuncia- 
tion requires that this should be properly placed, 
but good articulation prevents the unaccented parts 
being too much obscured, or dropped out altogether. 

The same observations may also apply to words. 
There are monosyllables which are used very often, 
and are rarely emphatic ; these may be blurred in 
speech, which is a grave fault, or they may be 
spoken with such distinctness and precision as to 
make speech a stilted effort. Thus the article a 
rarely has its long sound unless it is emphatic, 
while the is obscured, becoming t/n before vowels 
and t/iu before consonants. Many words, such as 
and, between parts of a sentence closely connected 
are rarely given their full sound, since to do so 
would compel us to stop to utter them. There is a 
bad habit, however, of dropping them out almost 

It should be remembered that an utterance suffi- 
ciently distinct for the purpose of coxjversation may 



made entirely by confining the air in various ways, 
and during their production the vocal cords are in- 
active. It will be seen that some of these, too, are 
explosives, or are suddenly made, while others may 
be held for a time. 

Combinations of continuous sounds, especially 
where the word begins with a vowel, are usually 
the most easily pronounced, and, therefore, one 
may begin with these. The student should first 
separate the sounds of the word, dwelling on each 
and after several repetitions bring them together 
again, forming one complete sound, or a word, 
thus : — 



•n; m — a — n; man. 

The following may be used as practice words. 
They are not intended as exhaustive, but merely to 
suggest various formations. 

Words of one syllable 
beginning with vowels, 
containing only continu- 
ous sounds : — 


aU a-1 

am a-m 

on o-n 

or o-r 

of o-v 

ooic oo-z 

off o-f 

as a-z 

ash a-sh 

Words of one syllable 
beginning with conso- 
nants, containing only 
continuous sounds: — 


lame 1-a-m 

moss m-o-6 

nay n-a 

ring r-i-ng 

vale v-a-1 

wash. w-a-sh 






Words of two syllables, both of which begin with 
:plosive consonants : — 





















back bite 





tan tram 







When a difficult sound is found, determine ex- 
actly what it is. Take it singly and endeavor to 
utter it. If this can be done, then combine it in 
words in as many ways as possible. If it cannot be 
uttered alone, place it in a connection where it will 
be easy, and from this lead up to the most difficult 

Below we append a few exercises which are use- 
ful for practice. We would advise that they be 
given very slowly at first, and that the words be 
divided into syllables ; gradually the rate may be in- 
creased until the speech is natural: — 

Bobby, bring your baby brother his bottle. 

Don't add decided deceit to dreamy deductions. 

Eight great gray geese grazing gaily into Greece. 

Rejoice, just as the jester rejoices. 

Many men of many minds, many birds of many kinds. 

The moan of doves in immemorial elms, and murmuring of 
innumerable bees. 

Red tin-tag plug chewing tobacca 

I watched a woeful widow write: White woman wants 

His pretty pouting lips were puckered by purple persim- 


Two paay pKK>dle puppies pUying possum. 
Some stammercrH and stutterers are capable of inexplicable 
offences opposed to proper utterance. 

Speak the speech trippingly on the tongue. 

Rural rulers rarely revel in rural mdeness. 

A gorgeous, gigantic gymnrack. 

Big, black bubbles, bursliag boisteroosly. 

The old, cold scold, sold a school coal-scuttle. 

He grinned and g^urgled and grasped his goggles. 

The cat ran up the ladder with a lump of raw liver. 

Six lung, sleek, slim, slender saplings. 

Sunshine should seldom be shunned 

She sells seasheUs, shunning society while the shells s 

Round the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascals \ 

A luminous, literary lecture, relating literally to the latent | 
learning of the latest literature. 

He knotted his cap with a knapsack's strap. 
A black bootblack broke a blank-book back. 
The storm shall surely cease, and silvery stars shall shimmer j 

It was an egregious blunder due to ineffable stupidity; bit I 
more exemplary and less offensive, since extemporaneous nt- 
te ranee is obligatory. 

He spoke peremptorily of their despicable conduct, and i 
particularly of the incalculable and irremed labia c 

Spicy, pungent pepper-pot, just prepared and smoking j 

Soft shimmering sunshine and shifting showers, shed softer I 
shades over suburban shrubbery. 

He dreaded death, di^ea-^e. and danger. 

Whatever he did, he did with difficulty and difBdence. 

He whistled while be whinled. 

And whispered as he walked ; 

But wooed and won a wicked world, 

While (voman wiles he balked. 


* Bobby, Bobby, shut the shutter ! * 
Bobby, in confusion utter, 
Did not hesitate nor stutter 
But was only heard to mutter: 
^ I can't shut it any shutter ! ^ 

In stuttering and stammering. 

In hesitation, too. 
Take time to think, and time to talk. 

When one is watching you. 

In practicing the foregoing examples, or in his 
ordinary speech, if the pupil will think out what is 
to be said, word for word, or clause by clause, before 
utterance, he will speak with greater ease, and the 
habit thus formed will be desirable. 

Well articulated speech is like a string of pearls: 
each syllable is distinct from the others and yet 
united. Most of the beauty of speech, and very 
much of the ease in understanding it, depends upon 
our usage in this particular. To acquire it we must 
practice it, and the articulating organs, particularly 
the lips and tongue, must be taught to move quickly, 
flexibly, easily, and exactly. We need that form of 
physical culture which aims at normal development, 
extending even to the lips and tongue. 





THE following selections are suggested for prac- 
tice. Read a line or a verse, or several verses 
carefully, paying special attention to the Method- 
of-Attack for closed consonants. Read the same 
matter, paying attention to Method-of-Attack for 
continuous sounds and for vowels. The student can 
then combine his Methods-of- Attack and in reading 
can exercise his knowledge in overcoming any diffi- 
culties that might otherwise be presented. A very 
good practice is to read aloud for ten minutes at a 
time, first with special attention to the attack sug- 
gested for closed consonants, ten minutes with at- 
tention to Method-of-Attack for continuous sounds, 
ten minutes with attention to Method-of-Attack for 
vowels, then fifteen minutes paying special atten- 
tion to Methods-of- Attack for all difficulties of utter- 

One may read also such selections, practicing for 
the benefits to be derived vocally. Never read 
aloud for practice when the throat is sore or irritated. 
A very good practice, and one that usually results 
beneficially, is to read slowly and carefully for ten 
minutes, keeping the teeth tightly closed, but exag- 
gerating the movement of the lips. This exercise 
should be always immediately followed by reading 
ten minutes with the exaggeration of the jaws. The 
object and purpose is to give greater flexibility to 
the muscles of the mouth and ox^gaas of articulation. 
• »— 19 (a89) 


The student should read each line slowly and 
carefolly with special attention to his enunciation, 
using for each word his Method-of -Attack as di- 
rected. An hour each day spent in this exercise 
will prove highly beneficial to any sufferer, and will 
serve to impress indelibly upon his mind the neces- 
sity for carefulness. Having once thoroughly 
learned Methods-of-Attack, it requires only the 
thought of their application mentally in order to 
gain freedom in enunciation physically, which truth 
has been demonstrated to the writers in hundreds 
of cases: — 


A H ! THINK it not a slight calamity 
'^^ To be denied free converse with my kind. 
To be debarred from man's true attribute — 
The proper, glorious privilege of speech. 
Hast ever seen an eagle chain*d to earth? 
A restless panther in his cage immured? 
A swift trout by the wily fisher checked? 
A wild bird hopeless strain its broken wing? 
Hast ever felt, at the dark dead of night. 
Some undefined and horrid incubus 
Press down thy very soul, and paralyze 
The limbs in their imaginary flight 
Prom shadowy terrors in unhallowed sleep? 
Hast ever known the sudden, icy chill 
Of dreary disappointment, as it dashes 
The sweet cup of anticipated bliss 
From the parched lips of long-endtiring hope? 

Then thou canst picture — aye, in sober truth, 
In real, unexaggerated truth — 


The constant, galling, festering chain that binds 

Captive the mute interpreter of thought — 

The seal of lead enstamp'd upon my lips — 

The load of iron on my laboring chest — 

The mockimg demon that at every step 

Haunts me, and spurs me on to burst with silence! 

Oh! 'tis a sore affliction to restrain. 

Prom mere necessity, the glowing thought; 

To feel the fluent cataract of speech 

Check'd by some wintry spell, and frozen up, 

Just as it's leaping from the precipice; 

To be the butt of wordy, captious fools. 

And see the sneering, self-complacent smile 

Of victory on their lips, when I might prove 

(But for some little word I dare not utter) 

That innate truth is not a specious lie; 

To hear foul slander blast an honor'd name. 

Yet breathe no fact to drive the fiend away; 

To mark neglected virtue in the dust. 

Yet have no word to pity or console; 

To feel just indignation swell my breast. 

Yet know the fountain of my wrath is sealed; 

To see my fellow-mortals hurrying on 

Down the steep cliff of crime, down to perdition, 

Yet have no voice to warn — no voice to win! 

'Tis to be mortified in every point. 

Baffled at every turn of life, for want 

Of that most common privilege of man. 

The merest drug of gorged society — 

Words — windy words. 

And is it not in truth 
A poison'd sting in every social joy — 
A thorn that rankles in the writhing flesh — 
A drop of gall in each domestic sweet — 
An irritating petty misery — 
That I can never look on one I love, 
And speak the fullness of my burning thoughts? 
That I can never with unmingled joy 
Meet a long-loved and long-expected friend. 


Because 1 feel, but cannot veot my feeling — 

Because 1 know 1 ought bot innst not speak — 

Because 1 mark his quiet impatient eye. 

Striving in kindness to anticipate 

Tbo word of welcome, strangled in its birth! 

Is it not sorrow, while I truly love 

Sweet soctAl converse, to be forced to shun 

The happy circle, from a nervous sense. 

An agonizing paignant consciousness, 

That I must stand aloof, nor mingle with 

The wise and good in rational argutaent. 

The young in brilliaat quickness of reply. 

Friendship's ingenuous interchange of miad. 

Affection's open-hearted sympathies. 

But feel myself an isolated being, 

A very wilderness of widow'd thought I 

Aye, 'tis a bitter thing — and not less bitter 

Because it is not reckoned in the ills, 

«Tbe thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.* 

Vet the full ocean is but countless drops. 

And misery is an aggregate of tears: 

And life, replete with small annoyances. 

Is but one long, protracted scene of sorrow. 

I scarce would wonder if a godless man 

(I name not him whose hope is heavenward), 

A man, whom lying vanities hath scath'd 

And harden'd from all fear — if such a. one 

By this tyrannical Argus goaded on 

Were to bo weary of his very life. 

And daily, hotirly, foiled in social converse, 

By the slow simmering of disappointment 

Become a sour'd and apathetic being. 

Were to feel rapture at the approach of death, 

And long for his dark hope — annitiilation. 

— M. F. TuppER. 



giTFOR. the throne of Heaven's King the Guaxdian Angel 

*^ came. 

*A boon, great God, of Thy dear love and bounty now I 

With covered face and feet he spoke, while o'er his breast 

there lay 
The folded wings in readiness to bear the gift away. 

Jehovah spoke: *What wonkiest thon?* The eager Angel 

^Behold the little one I guard — I would that on his head 

Thy choicest blessing might flow down, that he may be in- 

A benefactor to his race — their minister in need.* 

^The boon is thine. Bestow it now, this precious thing yon 

The Gracious Hand a halting tongue unto the angel gave. 
With anxious thought he went his way to the appointed task; 
*How can this gift confer on him the blessing that I ask?* 

Again he came before the King and prayed: *0 Grod, re- 

That gift so foolishly I sought in pity and in love. 

Had I but left the child alone 'twould have been better so; 

I sought to bless beyond them all, and I have worked his 

* For I have guarded all his youth, and now I see him stand 
At manhood's door — the peer of all — yet marked as by a 

To be apart from those he loves, silent and sad among 
The gayest crowd. I ask Thee now to cure this stamm'ring 


otiii wniie tne (juardian Angel prayed 
** Dear Lord of heav'n and earth r 

tong"ue from rae.*> 
With quiv'ring wings the Ang^l st< 

stant flight. 
In haste to bear the kneeling one the ] 

Yearning and anxiously he stood whi 
Over the suppliant tenderly; but yet i 
And still the earnest prayer came, anc 
*Dear Lord, to conquer this defect, g 

Then swiftly on his journey sent sped i 
leaden with healing gifts he came with ; 
Into that soul he poured the power 

Arise, and work, subdue and win — tl 


He rose and strove. He had the P< 

mastery ; 
By firm control o'er every part he woo 
No longer bound, he stood in might to 
To aU afflicted stamm'ring ones a help 

Thev camA tn K4*« ^^^ 



How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
When fond recollection presents them to view! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood. 

And every loved spot which my infancy knew; 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it. 

The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; 
The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it, 

And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well. 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 

The moss-covered bucket which hung in the welL 

That mosa-oovered vessel I hail as a treasure. 

For often at noon, when returned from the field, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure. 

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing. 

How quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell! 
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing. 

And dripping with coolness, it rose from the weU, 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 

The moss-covered bucket arose from the weU. 

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it. 

As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it. 

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips; 
And now, far removed from the loved situation. 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell. 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation. 

And sighs for the bucket whi<^ hangs in the weU, 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 

The moss-oovered bucket which hangs in the welL 

— Samubl Woodwoeth. 



THS Sabbath-day was ending in a village by the sea. 
The uttered benedictioo touched the people teuderly. 
And tbey rose to face the sunset in the glowing, lighted west. 
And then hastened to their dwellings for God's blessed boon 

But they looked 

there ; 
A fierce spirit moved above thi 

the waters, and a storm was raging 
the wild sjatit of ths | 

And it lashed and shook and tore them, till tbey thoudered. I 

groaned, and boomed; 
And alas for any vessel in their yawning gulfs entombed! 

Very aniious were the people on that rocky coast of Wales < 
Lest the dawns of coming morrows should be telling awful | 

When the sea had spent its passion and should cast upon { 

the shore 
Bits of wreck aod swollen victims, as it had done heretofore 

With the rough winds blowiog round her, a brave woman < 

strained her eyes. 
And she saw alottg the billows a large vessel fall and rise; 
O. it did not need a prophet to tell what the and must be! 
For no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such a j 

Then the pitying people hurried from their homes , 

thronged the beach. 
O. for power to cross the waters and the perishing to reach! j 
Helpless hands were wrung for sorrow, tender hearts grew i 

cold with dread. 
And the ship urged by the tempest, to the fatal rock-sbora I 


* She has parted in the middle! O, the half of her goes down! 
God have mercy! Is His heaven far to seek for those who 

drown ?» 
Lo! when next the white, shocked faces looked with terror 

on the sea, 
Only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be. 

Nearer to the trembling watchers came the wreck tossed by 

the wave, 
And the man still clung and floated, though no power on 

earth could save. 

* Could we send him a short message? Here's a trumpet 

Shout away!* 
'Twas the preacher's hand that took it, and he wondered 
what to say. 

Any memory of his sermon? Firstly? secondly? Ah no! 
There was but one thing to utter in the awful hour of woe; 
So he shouted through the trumpet: *Look to Jesus! Can 

you hear?* 
And *Aye, aye, sir!* rang the answer o'er the waters loud 

and clear. 

Then they listened. * He Is singing, < Jesus, lover of my soul 1 > * 
And the winds brought back the echo, ^^ While the nearer 

waters roU;* 
Strange, indeed, it was to hear him, ^Till the storm of life 

is past,* 
Singing bravely from the waters, * O, receive my soul at last! * 

He codd have no other refuge. * Hangs my helpless soal 

on Thee; 
Leave, ah, leave me not* The singer dropped at last into 

the sea; 
And the watchers, looking homeward through their eyes 

with tears made dim, 
Said : « He passed to be with Jesus in the singing of that 


— Ma&iannb Farminghaii. 



13 THEBE DO sccTet place on the face of the earth. 
Where charity dwelleth. wbere virtue hath birth ? 
Where bosoms in mercy and kiodness shall heave. 
And the poor and the wretched shall "ask and receive?" 
Is Ihero no place on earth where a knoclc from the poor 
Will bring a Idnd aagel to open the door? 
Ah! search the wide world wherever yon can. 
There is no open door for a moneyless man! 

Go, look in your hall, where the chandelier's light 
Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night. 
Where the rich hang^ing velvet in shadowy fold. 
Sweeps gracefully dovfn with its trimming of gold. 
And the rairrora of silver take up and renew, 
In long lighted vistas the wildering view — 
Go there in your patches, and tiad if you can. 
A welcoming smile for the moneyless man! 

Go. look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spir«, 
Which gives back to the sun his same look of red firs. 
Where the arches and colomns are gorgeous within, 
And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin; 
Go down the long aisle — see the rich and the great, 
In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate — 
Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can. 
Who opens a pew to a moneyless man. 

Go, look on yon judge in the dark, flowing gown. 
With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down. 
Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong, 
And punishes right where he justilies wrong 
Where jurors their lips on the Bible have lai 
To render a verdict they've already made; 
Go, there in the conrl-room. and find if you i 
Any law for the cause of a moneyless raanl 


Go, look in the banks where mammon has told 
His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold, 
Where safe from the hand of the starving and poor, 
Lays pile upon pile of the glittering ore; 
Walk up to the counter — and there you may stay 
Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray, 
And you'll find at the banks no one of the clan 
With money to loan to a moneyless man! 

Then go to your hovel; no raven has fed 

The wife who has suffered too long for her bread; 

Kneel down on the pallet and kiss the death frost 

From the lips of the angel your poverty lost; 

Then turn in your agony upward to God, 

And bless while it smites you, the chastening rod. 

And youll find at the end of your little life's span. 

There's a welcome above for a moneyless man! 

— Hen»y T. Stanton. 


COME, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish. 
Come, at God's altar fervently kneel ; 
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish. 
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal! 

Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying, 

Hope when all others die, fadeless and pure, 
Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying, 

* Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure!* 

Go, ask the infidel what boon he brings us. 

What charm for aching hearts he can reveal 
Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us: 

* Earth has no sorrows that God cannot heal!* 

— Thomas Moorx. 



pNGLAND's mm was slowlj setting o'er the hills so far 

*^ away. 

Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day; 

And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden 

He with step so slow and weakened, she with sonny, float- 
ing hair; 

He with sad bowed head and thoughtful she with lips so 

cold and white, 
Struggling to keep back the murmur, ^Curfew must not 

ring to-night* 
« Sexton,* Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison 

With its walls so dark and gloomy — walls so dark and 

damp and cold — 

^I've a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die 
At the ringing of the curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. 
Cromwell will not come till sunset,* and her face grew 

strangely white. 
As she spoke in husky whispers: << Curfew must not ring 


•Bessie,* calmly spoke the sexton — every word pierced her 

young heart 
Like a thousand gleaming arrows, like a deadly poisoned 

dart — 
<<Long, long years I've rung the curfew from that gloomy 

shadowed tower. 
Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour. 

<*! have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right; 
Now I*m old I will not miss it; g^rl, the curfew rings to- 
night ! * 


Wild her eyeM and pale her features, stem and white har 

thoughtful brow. 
And within her heart's deep center, Bessie made a solemn 


She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or 

*At the ringing of the curfew Basil Underwood must die.* 
And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew 

large and bright — 
One low murmur, scarcely spoken — * Curfew must not ring 

to-night !» 

She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old 
church door, 

Left the old man coming slowly paths he'd trod so oft be- 

Not one moment paused the maiden, but with cheek and 
brow aglow. 

Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swtmg £0 
and fro. 

Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, without one ray 

of light. 
Upward still, her pale lips saying: << Curfew shall not ring 

She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the 

great dark beU, 
And the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down 

to helL 

See, the ponderous tongue is swinging, 'tis the hour of cur- 
few now, 

And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath 
and paled her brow. 

Shall she let it ring? No, never! her eyes flash with sudden 

As she springs and grasps it firmly— * Curfew shall not 
ring to-night !» 



Out she swung, far out, tbe city seemed a tiny specie beloiV;.! 
There, 'twixt heaven and earth suspended, as tbe bell smiqg 1 

to mtd fro; 
And the half-deaf Geston ringing (yean he had not beard 1 

the bell), 
And he thought the twilight curfew rang yonng Basil's J 

funeral knelL 

Still the maiden clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pals 1 

and wbite. 
Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating — "Curfew shall J 

not ring to-night!" 
It wiis o'er — the bell ceased swaying, and the maidtoa 

stepped oace more 
Firmly ou the damp old ladder, where for hundred ) 


Human foot had not been planted; and what she this n 

had done 
Shuuld be told in long years after. As the rays of settiq^l 

Light the sicy with mellow beauty, aged sires vith beads 

Tell their children why the curfew did not ring that i 
sad night. 

O'er the distant hills came Cromwell Bessie saw him, aad'^ 

her brow. 
Lately white with sickening terror, glows with suddeB I 

At his feet she told her story, showed her hands all brntaaAfl 

and torn ; 
And her sweet young face so haggard, with a look i 

Touched his heart with sudden jrfty — lit his eyee 

misty light; 
"Go, your lover lives!" cried Cromwell; "curfew shall i 

ring to-night." 

— Rosa Haktwick Thorpe 




tfUMM, a spreading chestnut tree 
The village smithy stands; 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 
With large and sinewy hands; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 
Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long. 

His face is like the tan; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat. 

He earns whate'er he can. 
And looks the whole world in the face. 

For he owes not any man. 

Week-in, week-out, from mom tin night. 
You can hear his bellows blow; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
With measured beat and slow, 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell. 
When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door; 
They love to see the flaming forge. 

And hear the bellows roar. 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a threshing floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his hoyn; 
He hears the parson pray luid preach. 

He hears his daughter's voice 
Singing in the village chohr. 

And h makes his heart rejoioo. 


There 's something kind o' hearty-like abont the atmosphere 
When the heat of summer *s over and the cooling fall is 

Of coarse we miss the flowers and the blossoms on the 

And the mumble of the hummin'-birds an' buzsin' of the 

But the air 's so appetizin', and the landscape through the 

Of a crisp and sunny momin' of the early autumn days 
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock. 
When the frost is 00 the punkin and the fodder 's in the 


The husty, rusty rustle of the tassels of the com. 

And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the 

The stubble in the furries — kind o' lonesome-like but stiU, 
A preachin' sermons to us of the bams they growed to fill; 
The straw-stack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; 
The bosses in their stall below, the clover overhead, — 
O, it sets my heart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock. 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder 's in the 


Then your apples all is gathered, and the ones a feller 

Is poured around the cellar-floor, in red and yellow heaps. 
And your cider-makin' 's over and your women-folks is 

With their mince and apple-butter, and their souse and 

sausage too; 
I don't know how to tell it — but if sich a thing could be 
As the angels want in* boardin\ and the/d call around 

on me, 
I'd want to 'commodate *em. all the whole endurin' flock, 
When the frost is on the ptmkin and the fodder 's in the 


— James Whitcomb Riliy. 



I LOTS it, I love h, and who shall dare 
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? 
r^a treasured it long as a sainted prise, 
Vv% bedew e d it with tears, and embalmed it with siglis; 
Tis booad bjr a thousand bands to my heart; 
Not a tie will break, not a Unk will start. 
Would ye learn the spell ? A mother sat there. 
And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair. 

In childhood's hour I lingered near 

The hallowM seat with listening ear; 

And gentle words that mother would give, 

To fit me to die and teach me to live. 

She told me shame would never betide, 

With tmth for my creed, and God for my guide; 

She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer. 

As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. 

I sat and watched her many a day. 

When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray. 

And I almost worshiped her when she smiled. 

And turned from her Bible to bless her chiUL 

Years rolled on, but the last one sped; 

My idol was shattered, my earth star fled; 

I learned how much the heart can bear, 

When I saw her die in that old arm-chair. 

Tis past! 'tis past! but I gase on it now 
With quivering breath and throbbing brow; 
'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she died. 
And memory flows like lava-tide. 
Say it is foUy, and deem me weak. 
While the scalding drops start down my cheek; 
But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear 
My soul from a mother's old arm-chair. 

— Eliza Cook. 



IF wx knew the woe and heartache 
Waiting for us down the road; 
If our lips could taste the wormwood. 

If our backs could feel the load, — 
Would we waste the day in wishing 

For a time that ne'er can be? 
Would we wait with such impatience 
For our ship to come from sea? 

If we knew the baby-fingers 

Pressed against the window-pane 
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow. 

Never trouble us again, 
Would the bright eyes of our darling 

Catch the frown upon our brow? 
Would the print of rosy fingers 

Vex us then as they do now? 

Ah! these little ice-cold fingers! 

How they point our memories back 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn along our backward track! 
How these litUe hands remind us, 

As in snowy grace they lie. 
Not to scatter thorns, but roses. 

For our reaping by and by. 

Strange we never prize the music 

Till the sweet- voiced bird has flown; 
Strange that we should slight the violets 

Till the lovely flowers are gone; 
Strange that summer skies and sunshine 

Never seem one-half so fair 
As when winter's snowy pinions 

Shake their white down in the air. 


Let QS gather up the sunbeams 

Lying all around our path; 
Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

In the blessings of to-day, 
With the patient hand removing 

AU the briers from our way. 


[On the ftchievemeiit of Arnold de Winkelried at the battle of Sempach, 
la whkh the Swiaa secured the freedom of their countiy against the 
power of Auatria, in the fourteenth century.] 

«llilAKB way for liberty!^ he cried, — 
^^^ Made way for liberty, and died. 
In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, 
A living wall, a human wood; 
A wall, where every conscious stone 
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown, 
A rampart all assaults to bear, 
TiU time to dust their frames should wear; 
A wood, like that enchanted grove 
In which with friends Rinaldo strove, 
Where every silent tree possessed 
A spirit imprisoned in its breast, 
Which the first stroke of coming strife 
Might startle into hideous life; 
So still, so dense, the Austrians stood, 
A living wall, a human wood. 
Impreg^nable their front appears. 
All horrent with projected spears, 
Whose polished points before them shine. 
Prom fiank to flank, one brilliant line, 
Bright as the breakers' splendors run 
Along the billows to the sun. 


Opposed to these, a hovering band 

Contended for their fatherland; 

Peasants, whose new-fonnd strength had broke 

For manly necks the ignoble yoke. 

And beat their fetters into swords. 

On equal terms to fight their lords; 

And what insurgent rage had gained. 

In many a mortal fray maintained. 

Marshaled once more, at Freedom's caU, 

They canie to conquer or to fall, 

Where he who conquered, he who fell, 

Was deemed a dead, a living Tell; 

Such virtue had that patriot breathed. 

So to the soil his soul bequeathed. 

That wheresoe'er his arrows flew. 

Heroes in his own likeness grew. 

And warriors sprang from every sod 

Which his awakening footstep trod. 

And now the work of life and death 

Hung on the passing of a breath; 

The fire of conflict burned within. 

The battle trembled to begin; 

Yet while the Austrians held their groond. 

Point for assault was nowhere found; 

Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. 

The unbroken line of lances blazed; 

That line 'twere suicide to meet 

And perish at their tjrrants' feet 

How could they rest within their graves 

To leave their homes the haunts of slaves? 

Would they not feel their children tread. 

With clanking chains, above their head ? 

It must not be; this day, this hour 

Annihilates the invader's power; 

All Switzerland is in the field. 

She will not fly, she cannot yield. 

She must not fall; her better fate 

Here gives her an immortal date. 

Few were the numbers she could boast. 

Yet every freeman was a host, 


And felt as 'twere a secret known. 

That one should turn the scale alone. 

While each unto himself was he 

On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one, indeed; 

Behold him! Arnold Winkelried! 

There sounds not to the trump of fame 

The echo of a nobler name. 

Unmarked he stood amid the throng. 

In rumination deep and long. 

Tin you might see, with sudden grace, 

The very thought come o'er his face. 

And by the motion of his form. 

Anticipate the bursting storm. 

And by the uplifting of his brow. 

Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 

But 'twas no sooner thought than done; 

The field was in a moment won. 

^Make way for liberty !» he cried; 

Then ran, with arms extended wide. 

As if his dearest friend to clasp; 

Ten spears he swept within his grasp; 

^Make way for liberty!'^ he cried; 

Their keen points crossed from side to tide; 

He bowed amidst them, like a tree. 

And thus made way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly; 

^Make way for liberty!* they cry. 

And through the Austrian phalanx dart. 

As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart. 

While, instantaneous as his fall, 

Rout, ruin, panic, seized them alL 

An earthquake could not overflow 

A city with a surer blow; 

Thus Switzerland again was free; 

Thus death made way for liberty. 

— James Montgomery. 



SwxBT Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, 
Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, 
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 
And parting summer's lingering bloom delayed; 
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease. 
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, 
How often have I loitered o'er thy green. 
Where humble happiness endeared each scene! 
How often have I paused on every charm, 
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm. 
The never-failing brook, the busy mill. 
The decent church that topped the neighboring hill. 
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. 
For talking age and whispering lovers made! 
How often have I blessed the coming day. 
When toil, remitting, lent its turn to play! 
And all the village train, from labor free. 
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree. 
While many a pastime circled in the shade. 
The yotmg contending, as the old surveyed. 
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground. 
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round; 
And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, 
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired; 
The dancing pair that simply sought renown 
By holding out to tire each other down ; 
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face 
While secret laughter tittered round the place; 
The bashful maiden's sidelong looks of love, 
The matron's glance that would those looks reprove: 
These were thy charms, sweet village ! Sports like these, 
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please; 
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed; 
These were thy charms; but all thy charms are fled; 
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn. 
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; 


Amidit thy twwen the t3rraiit's hand is seen, 

Aad dfliolation saddens all thy green. 

One only master grasps the whole domain. 

And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 

No more thy glassy brook reflects the day. 

Bat choked with sedges works its weedy way; 

Along thy glades, a solitary gnest, 

The hoUow-soanding bittern guards its nest; 

Amidst thy desert walks the lap-wing flies. 

And tires their echoes with unvaried cries; 

Sank are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, 

And the long grass o*ertops the moldering wall; 

And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 

Par, far away, thy children leave the land. 

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey. 

Where wealth accumulates and men decay; 

Princes and lords may flourish or may fade; 

A breath can make them, as a breath has made; 

But a bold peasantry, their country's pride. 

When once destroyed, can never be supplied. 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began. 

When every rood of g^und maintained its man; 

Por him light labor spread her wholesome store. 

Just gave what life required, but gave no more; 

His best companions, innocence and health, 

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 

But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train 

Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain; 

Along the lawn where scattered hamlets rose. 

Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose, 

And every want to luxury allied. 

And every pang that folly pays to pride. 

Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, 

Those calm desires that asked but little room, 

Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene. 

Lived in each look and brightened all the green, 

These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, 

And rural mirth and manners are no more. 

Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour. 

Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 


Here, as I take my solitary rounds 
Amidst thy tangled walks and ruined grounds, 
And, many a year elapsed, return to view 
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, 
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. 
In all my wanderings round this world of care. 
In all my griefs — and God has given my share — 
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown. 
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down, 
To husband out life's taper at the close. 
And keep the flame from wasting, by repose. 
I still had hope, for pride attends us still, 
Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill; 
Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; 
And, as a hare, whom hoimds and horns pursue. 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 
Here to return, and die at home at last 
O blessed retirement, friend to life's decline. 
Retreats from care, that never must be mine! 
How happy he who crowns, in shades like these, 
A youth of labor with an age of ease; 
Who quits a world where strong temptations try. 
And, since *tis hard to combat, learns to fly; 
For him no wretches, bom to work and weep, 
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; 
No surly porter stands in guilty state. 
To spurn imploring famine from the gate; 
But on he moves, to meet his latter end. 
Angels around befriending virtue's friend. 
Bends to the grave with unperceived decay, 
While resignation gently shapes the way; 
And, all his prospects brightening at the last. 
His heaven commences ere the world be passed. 
Sweet was the sotmd, when oft at evening's close 
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. 
There, as I passed with careless step and slow, 
The mingling notes came softened from below; 


Tte swain responsive as the milkmaid song. 

Ths sober herd that lowed to meet their yovaig^ 

The ttoisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 

The plajrfttl children just let loose from school. 

The watch-dog's voice, that bayed the whispering wind. 

And the load laugh that spoke the vacant mind; 

These all in sweet confusion sought the shade. 

And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 

Bat now the sounds of population fail, 

No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, 

No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread. 

For all the blooming flush of life is fled; 

All but yon widowed, solitary thing, 

That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; 

She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread. 

To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread. 

To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn, 

To seek her nightly shed, and weep till mom; 

She only left of all the harmless train, 

The sad historian of the pensive plain! 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 

And still where many a garden flower g^ws wild. 

There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. 

The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 

A man he was to all the country dear. 

And passing rich on forty pounds a year. 

Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 

Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place, 

Unpracticed he to fawn, or seek for power, 

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour; 

Par other aims his heart had learned to prize, 

More skilled to raise the wretched, than to rise. 

His house was known to all the vagrant train. 

Ha chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain; 

The long-remembered beggar was his guest. 

Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; 

The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 

Claimed kindred there, and had his claim allowed; 

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. 

Sat by his fire, and talked the night away. 


Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 

Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. 

Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow. 

And quite forg^ot their vices in their woe; 

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 

His pity gave ere charity began. 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 

And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; 

But in his duty prompt, at every call. 

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; 

And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies. 

He tried each art, reproved each dull delay. 

Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 

And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, 

The reverend champion stood; at his control. 

Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; 

Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise. 

And his last faltering accents whispered praise. 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 

His looks adorned the venerable place; 

Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway. 

And fools who came to scoff remained to pray. 

The service past, around the pious man. 

With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; 

Even children followed, with endearing wile. 

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. 

His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed. 

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed; 

To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given. 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 

As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form. 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread. 

Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the ¥^y, 

With blossomed furze unprofltably gay. 

There, in his noisy mansion skilled to rule. 

The village master taught his little school. 

i^onveyed ttie dismal tidings 
Yet he was kind, or if sever 
The love he tore t» leaminj 
The village all declared bow 
'TwM certain bo could write 
Lands b« cotild meksure, ten 
And e'en the stcny ran tlut 
In arguing, too, the parson o 
For e'en ttaoagh vanquished. 
While words of learned lengt 
Amaied the gailng msUca n 
And still thejr gazed, and stil 
That one small head could a 
But put b all bis fame; the 
Where many a time be trlan 
Near yonder thorn, that lifts 
Where once the sign-post can 
Now lies that house where nt 
Where gray-beard mirth and 
Where village statesmen talto 
And news mnch older than tl 
Imagination fondly stoops to i 
The parlor splendors c£ that f 
The whitewashed wall, the olt 
The varnished clock that cUcl 
The chest contrived a double 


Vain transitory splendors i conld not all 
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall? 
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart 
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart; 
Thither no more the peasant shall repair, 
To sweet oblivion of his daily care; 
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, 
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; 
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
Relax his ponderous strength and lean to hear; 
The host himself no longer shall be found 
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; 
Nor the coy maid, half-willing to be prest. 
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 
Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. 
These simple blessings of the lowly train; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart. 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art 
Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, 
The soul adopts, and owns their first-bom sway; 
Lightly they frolic o*er the vacant mind, 
Unen^ed, immolested, nnoonfined. 
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade. 
With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed. 
In these, ere trifiers half their wish obtain. 
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain. 
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy. 
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy. 
Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 
*Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand 
Between a splendid and a happy land. 
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore. 
And shouting Polly hails them from her shore; 
Hoards even beyond the miser's wish abound. 
And rich men flock from all the world around. 
Yet count our gains: this wealth is but a name 
lliat leaves our useful products still the same. 
Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 
Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; 


SjMoe for his lake, his park's extended boandfl. 

Space for his horse, his equipage, and hounds; 

The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth. 

Has robbed the neighboring fields of half their growCh; 

His seat, where solitary spots are seen. 

Indignant spurns the cottage from the green; 

Around the world each needful product flies. 

For all the luxuries the world supplies; 

While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all. 

In barren splendor, feebly waits the falL 

As some fair female, unadorned and plain, 

Secure to please while youth confirms her relg^. 

Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies. 

Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes; 

But when those charms are past, for charms are frail« 

When time advances, and when lovers fail. 

She then shines forth, solicitous to bless. 

In all the glaring impotence of dress. 

Thus fares the land, by luxury betrayed; 

In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed. 

But verging to decline, its splendors rise, 

Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise; 

While scourged by famine from the smiling land. 

The mournful peasant leads his humble band; 

And while he sinks, without one arm to save. 

The country blooms, a garden and a grave. 

Where, then, ah! where shall poverty reside. 

To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? 

If to some common's fenceless limits strayed. 

He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade. 

Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, 

And even the bare-worn common is denied. 

If to the city sped, what waits him there? 

To see profusion that he must not share; 

To see ten thousand baleful arts combined 

To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; 

To see each joy the sons of pleasure know 

Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe, 

Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade. 

There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; 


Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, 

There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 

The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reig^, 

Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train. 

Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 

The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare; 

Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! 

Sure these denote one universal joy! 

Are these thy serious thoughts ? Ah, turn thine eyes 

Where the poor houseless, shivering female lies; 

She once perhaps, in village plenty blessed. 

Has wept at tales of innocence distressed; 

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn. 

Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn; 

Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled, 

Near her betrayer's door she lays her head. 

And pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower. 

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour 

When, idly first, ambitious of the town. 

She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. 

Do thine, sweet Auburn — thine the loveliest train — 

Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? 

E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led. 

At proud men's doors they ask a little bread. 

Ah, no! to distant climes, a dreary scene. 

Where half the convex world intrudes between, 

Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they g^, 

Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. 

Par different there from all that charmed before. 

The various terrors of that horrid shore: 

Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray. 

And fiercely shed intolerable day; 

Those matted woods where birds forget to sing. 

But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 

Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned. 

Where the dark scorpion gathers death around. 

Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 

The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; 

Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey. 

And savage men more murderous still than they; 


Wbile oft in whirls tbv wild toriMdo flies. 
Mingling the ravaged \a.ndac*pe with the sides; 
Far different these from every former scene; 
The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green, 
The breeiy covert of the warbling grove. 
That only sheltered thefts of harmless love- 
Good Heaven f what sorrows gloomed that parting day. 
That called them from their native walks away; 
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past. 
Hung round their bowers, and fondly looked their last. 
And took a long farewell, and wished in vain 
For seafci like these beyond the western main; 
And shuddering still to face the distaat deep. 
Returned and wept; and still returned to weep. 
The good old sire the first prepared to go 
To new found worlds, and wept for others* woe. 
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave. 
He only wished for worlds beyond the grave; 
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears. 
The fond companion of his helpless years. 
Silent, went nert, neglectful of her charms, 
And left a lover's for a father's arms; 
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, 
And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose, 
Aud kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear. 
And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear. 
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 
In all the silent manliness of grief. 
O lusury! thou cursed by heaven's decree. 
How ill eichanged are things like these for thee! 
How do thy potions, with insidious joy, 
Difluse their pleasures only to destroy! 
Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown. 
Boast of a florid vigor not their own; 
At every draft more large and large they grow, 
A bloated mass of rank, unwieldy woo; 
Till sapped their strength, and every part unsonnd, 
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 
Even now the devastation is begun, 
And half the business of destmctiaa doae; 


Even now, methinks, at pondering here I stand, 

I see the mral virtues leave the land; 

Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail. 

That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 

Downward they move, a melancholy band. 

Pass from the shore and darken all the strand; 

Contented toil, and hospitable care, 

And kind connubial tenderness are there. 

And piety with wishes placed above. 

And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 

And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, 

Still first to fly when sensual joys invade. 

Unfit in these degenerate times of shame 

To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; 

Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried. 

My shame in crowds, my solitary pride, 

Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe. 

That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so, 

Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel. 

Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well! 

Farewell! — and oh! where'er thy voice be tried, 

On Tornea's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, — 

Whether where equinoctial fervors glow; 

And winter wraps the polar world in snow, — 

Still let thy voice, prevailing over time. 

Redress the rigors of the inclement clime. 

Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain 

Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; 

Teach him that states of native strength possessed — 

Though very poor — may still be very blessed; 

That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay. 

As ocean sweeps the labored mole away; 

While self-dependent power can time defy. 

As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 

— OuvBR Goldsmith. 


wratli are stored; 
He hath loosed the fateful ligt 

His truth is mi 

I have Men him hi the watch- 

They have bnllded him an alta 

I can read his lighteons sentet 

lamps i 

Hia day is man 

I have read a fiery gospel, writ i: 
*As ye deal with my oontemnc 

Bhall deal»: 
Let the Hero, bom of woman, < 


Since God is ma 

He has sotmded forth the tramp 

He is sifting out the hearts of 

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer 



'TniERK was a man, 

*^ A Roman soldier, for some daring deed 
That trespassed on the laws, in dtmgeon low 
Chained down. His was a noble spirit, rongh, 
But generous, and brave, and kind. 

He had a son: it was a rosy boy, 

A little, faithful copy of his sire 

In face and gesture. From infancy the child 

Had been his father's solace and his care. 

Every sport 
The father shared and heightened. But at length 
The rigorous law had grasped him, and condemned 
To fetters and to darkness. 

The captive's lot 
He felt in all its bitterness; the walls 
Of his deep dungeon answer'd many a sigh 
And heart-heaved g^oan. His tale was known, and 

His jailer with compassion; and the boy, 
Thenceforth a frequent visitor, beguiled 
His father's lingering hours, and brought a balm 
With his loved presence, that in every wotmd 
Dropped healing. 

But in this terrific hour 
He was a poisoned arrow in the breast 
Where he had been a cure. With earliest mom 
Of that first day of darkness and amaze. 
He came. The iron door was closed — for them 
Never to open more! The day, the night. 
Dragged slowly by; nor did they know the fate 
Impending o'er the city. 

The dangers of their stat 

Tbe fettered soldier sank. 
ListeDed to the fearful so 
To the great gods he bre. 
To calm himself, and lose 
His uBdess terrors. Bnt 
His body burned with fev 
Clanked loud, although he 
Groaiwd UDimagioable tht 
Feaifnl and ominous, aros< 
Like tbe sad meanings of 
In the blank midnight. 

Hia blood that borned befi 
Came o'er him; then, anon 
Shot through his veins, N 
And shivered as in fear; n 
Ah though he heard the be 
And longed to cope with 6 
A troubled, dreamy sleepL 
Never to waken more! Hi 
But tenible his agonv. 


Dying away npon the dazzled eye, 
In darkening, quivering tints, as stunning sound 
Dies, throbbing, ringing in the ear. Silence, 
And blackest darkness! 

With intensest awe 
The soldier's frame was filled; and many a thought 
Of strange foreboding hurried through his mind. 
As underneath he felt the fevered earth 
Jarring and lifting, and the massive walls 
Heard harshly grate and strain; yet knew he not, 
While evils undefined and yet to come 
Glanced through his thoughts, what deep and cureless 

Fate had already given. 

Where, man of woe! 
Where, wretched father, is thy boy ? Thou call'st 
His name in vain: he cannot answer thee. 

Loudly the father called upon his child: 

No voice replied. Trembling and anxiously 

He searched their couch of straw ; with headlong haste 

Trod round his stinted limits, and low bent, 

Groped darkling on the earth: no child was there. 

Again he called; again, at farthest stretch 

Of his accursed fetters, till the blood 

Seemed bursting from his ears, and from his eyes 

Fire flashed ; he strained, with arm extended far. 

And fingers widely spread, greedy to touch 

Though but his idol's garment 

Useless toil! 
Yet still renewed; still round and round he goes. 
And strains, and snatches, and with dreadful cries 
Calls on his boy. Mad frenzy fires him now: 
He plants against the wall his feet; his chain 
Grasps; tugs with giant strength to force away 
The deep-driven staple; yells and shrieks with rage; 
And, like a desert lion in the snare. 

PoinU out the lightniag's t 

The i 
And «11 his lory fled ; tt des 
Th»t iiutant on him; speed 
And, with a look that oevei 
Intensely on the corse. Th 
Were n<A yet dosed; and n 
The wonted anllle rMurned. 

The father stands; no tear j 
The thnnden beUow, but he 
The ground lifts lilce a aea,- 
The strong walls grind and 
Takes shapes like babbles tc 
Seel he looks op and smiles 
Is happiness. Yet could out 
Be given, 'twere still a sweei 

It wiU be given. Look! bo^ 
At every swell, nearer and si 
Moves toward his father's oa 
Once he has toudied his gar 
Lightens with love, and hooe 


And death came soon, and swift. 
And panglees. The hnge pile sank down at once 
Into the opening earth. Walls — arches — roof — 
And deep fonndation-stones — all — mingling — fell! 

— Edwin Athbrton. 


ROCK of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in thee! 
Let the water and the blood 
From thy riven side which flowed, 
Be of sin the double cure, 
Cleanse me from its guilt and power. 

Not the labor of my hands 
Can fulfill thy law's demands; 
Could my zeal no respite know. 
Could my tears forever flow. 
All for sin could not atone; 
Thou must save, and thou alone. 

Nothing in my hand I bring; 
Simply to thy cross I cling; 
Naked, come to thee for dress; 
Helpless, look to thee for grace; 
Foul, I to the Fountain fly; 
Wash me. Saviour, or I die! 

While I draw this fleeting breath. 
When my eye-strings break in death. 
When I soar through tracts unknown. 
See thee on thy judgment throne. 
Rock of Ag^, cleft for me. 
Let me hide myself in thee! 

— Augustus Montaoub Tonjunr. 



BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time in yoor fliglity 
Make me a child again, just for to-nightl 
Mother, come back from the echoless shore, 
Take me again to your heart, as of yore; 
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, 
Smoothe the few silver threads out of my hmir; 
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years 1 

I am so weary of toil and of tears. 

Toil without recompense, tears all in vain; 

Take them, and give me my childhood again. 

I have grown weary of dust and decay. 

Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away. 

Weary of sowing for others to reap; 

Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue. 
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you ! 
Many a summer the grass has grown green, 
Blossomed and faded, our faces between. 
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain, 
Lfong I to-night for thy presence again. 
Come from the silence, so long and so deep; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 

Over my heart, in the 6ays that are flown. 
No love like mother-love ever has shone; 
No other worship abides and endures. 
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours; 
None but a mother can charm away pain 
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain; 
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 


Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with goldi 
Pall on your shoulders, again as of old, 
Let it drop over my forehead to-night. 
Shading my faint eyes away from the light; 
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more 
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; 
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long 
Since I mst listened your lullaby song; 
Sing, then; and unto my soul it shall seem 
Womanhood's years have been only a dream. 
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace. 
With your light lashes just sweeping my face. 
Never hereafter to wake or to weep, 
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! 

—Elizabeth Akers Allen. 
(" Florence Percy.*) 


I A PRINCESS, king-descended, decked with jewels, gilded 
9 drest, 
Would rather be a peasant who lulls her babe to rest. 
For all I shine so like the sun, and am purple like the west. 

Two and two my guards behind, two and two before. 
Two and two on either hand, they guard me evermore; 
Me, poor dove, that must not coo, — eagle, that must not soar. 

All my fountains cast up perfumes, all my gardens grow 
Scented woods and foreign spices, with all flowers in blow 
That are costly, out of season as the seasons go. 

All my walls are lost in mirrors, whereupon I trace 

Self to right hand, self to left hand, self in every place— 

Self -same solitary figure, self -same seeking face. 

These for slaughter, these for 1 

Some to work on roads, canals 
Some to smut in mines beneai 
Some to trap fiiT-be«sts in land 

Once It CMne into my heart, ac 
That these, too, are men and wc 
Men vlth hearts and men with 

Onr feasting was not g^ad tha 


On my mother's gnuefal bead '. 
My father, frowning at the £ 

I ut beside them, sole princess, 
My ladies and my gentlemen sti 
A miiroi showed me I looked ol 

It showed me that my ladies all 
Plump, plenteous-hatred, to evei 

They laugh by day, they sleep ' 


I took my bath of scented milk, delicately waited on; 
They burned sweet things for my delight, cedar and cinna- 
They lit my shaded silver-lamp, and left me there alone. 

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it said: 
*Men are clamoring, women, children, clamoring to be fed; 
Men, like famished dogs, are howling in the streets for bread.* 

I strained my utmost sense to catch the words, and mark: 

* There are families out grazing, like cattle in the park; 

A pair of peasants must be saved, even if we build an ark.* 

A merry jest, a merry laugh, each strolled upon his way; 
One was my page, a lad I reared and bore with day by day; 
One was my youngest maid, as sweet and white as cream 
in May. 

Other footsteps followed softly with a weightier tramp; 
Voices said: << Picked soldiers have been summoned from 

the camp 
To quell these base-bom ruffians who make free to howl 

and stamp. ^ 

*Howl and stamp ?^ one answered. ^They made free to 

hurl a stone 
At the minister's state-coach, well aimed and stoutly thrown.* 

* There's work, then, for soldiers; for this rank crop most 

be mown.* 

^ After us the deluge,* was retorted with a laugh. 
^If bread's the staff of life, they must walk without a staff.* 
« While I've a loaf, they're welcome to my blessing and the 

These passed, the King stood up. Said my father with a 

^Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you awhile; 
She's sad to-day, and who but you her sadness can beguile ?* 


Or shall she merely fan me whi 

Agkin I GBUgbt my fftther's voice 
•Chargel* aclasliof steet *Cb 
Smite and spar* not, hand to b 
hand to hand.* 

There swelled » twnnlt at the 

A fluh at i«d Teflected-Ugbt Ut 
I heard a cry for fagots, then I : 

Now this thing wiU I do, while i 
I will tske my fine-epnn gold, bn 
I will take my gold and gems, ai 

With a rmnsom in my lap, a king 
I will go down to this people, wi 

Where they cttrse king, queen, ai 

They shall take aU I 



«iui AKK me a statae,^ said the Ring, 
^"* «Of marble white as snow; 
It must be pure enough to stand 
Before my throne, at my right<4iand« 
The niche is waiting, go^^ 

The sculptor heard the King's command. 

And went upon his way; 
He Had no marble, but he went 
With willing hands and high intent. 

To mold his thoughts in clay. 

Day after day he wrought the clay. 

But knew not what he wrought: 
He sought the help of heart and brain. 
But could not make the riddle plain; 
It lay beyond his thought 

To-day the statue seemed to grow. 

To-morrow it stood still: 
The third day all was well again; 
Thus, year by year, in joy and pain. 

He wrought his Master's will. 

At last his life-long work was done,— 

It was a happy day: 
He took his statue to the King, 
But trembled like a guilty thing, 

Because it was but clay! 

* Where is my statue?^ asked the King 

^Here, Lord,* the sculptor said. 
*But I commanded marble.* ^True, 
But lacking that, what could I do 
But mold in clay instead?* 

-» K 


*Thou Shalt not tinrewarded go. 
Since then hast done thy best; 
Thy statue shall acceptance win. 
It shall be as it should have been* 
For I will do the rest* 

He touched the statue and it changed; 

The clay falls off, and lo! 
A marble shape before Him stands. 
The perfect work of heavenly hands. 

An angel pure as snow! 

— Richard Hbnry Stodda&d. 


[Prom ■Childe Harold," Cmnto IV.] 

ROLL on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roUf 
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 unknowxL 

His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields 
Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 

And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields 
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, 
Spuming him from thy bosom to the skies. 

And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray 
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies 

His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
And dashest him as:ain to earth: — there let him lay. 


The armaments which thunderstrike the walbi 

Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake. 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals. 

The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 

Their 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 the 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 shares obey 
The 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. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time. 

Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless and sublime — 

The image of Eternity — the throne 
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alonOi 

And I have loved thee. Ocean! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy 
I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea 

Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear; 
For I was as it were a child of thee, 

And trusted to thy billows far and near. 
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 

-^GiORGK Gordon. Lord Byron. 



Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine, 
In those old days of the lost sunshine 
Of youth— when the Saturday's chores were throagfa. 
And the Sunday's wood in the kitchen, too. 
And we went visiting, *I and 3ron, 
Out to old Aunt Mary's ? » 

It all comes back so clear to-day. 
Though I am as bald as you are gray; 
Out by the bam-lot and down the lane 
We patter along in the dust again, 
As light as the tips of the drops of rain. 
Out to old Aunt Mary's. 

We cross the pasture, and through the wood 
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood. 
Where the hammering red-heads hopped awry. 
And the buzsard raised in the open sky. 
And lolled and circled as we went by. 
Out to old Aunt Mary's. 

And then in the dust of the road again; 
And the teams we met and the countrymen; 
And the long highway with the sunshhie spread 
As thick as butter on country bread. 
And our cares behind and our hearts ahead. 
Out to old Aunt Mary's. 

I see her now in the open door, 
Where the gourds grew up the sides and o'er 
The dap-board roof. And her face — Ome! 
Wasn't it good for a boy to see ? 
And wasn't it good for a boy to be 
Out to old Aunt Mary's ? 


And O, my brother, so far away, 
This is to tall you she waits to^lay 
To welcome us. Aunt Maxy fell 
Asleep this morning, whispering: ^Tell 
The boys to come.^ And all is well 
Oat to old Aunt Mary's. 

— James Whitcomb Rilxy. 


TN XASTVRN lauds they talk in flowers, 
^ And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; 
Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers. 
On its leaves a mystic language bears. 

The rose is a sign of joy and love. 
Young blushing love in its earliest dawn; 

And the mildness that suits the gentle dove 
From the myrtle's snowy flower is drawn. 

Innocence shines in the lily's bell. 
Pure as the light in its native heaven; 

Fame's bright star and glory's swell 
In the glossy leaf of the bay are given. 

The silent, soft, and humble heart 
In the violet's hidden sweetness breathes; 

And the tender soul that cannot part 
A twine of e vergreen fondly wreathes. 

The c yp res s that daily shades the grave, 

Is sorrow that mourns her bitter lot; 
And faith that a thousand ills can brave. 

Speaks in thy blue leaves, forget-me-not. 
Then gather a wreath from the garden bowers, 
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers. 

— Jamss Gatbs Pxkciyal. 



BY Nkbo'8 lonely moantain, 
On this side Jordan's wave. 
In a vale in the land of Moab, 

There lies a lonely grave; 
Bnt no man dug that sepulchre, 

And no man saw it e'er. 
For the angels of God nptumed the sod. 
And laid the dead man there. 

That was the grandest funeral 

That ever passed on earth; 
But no man heard the trampling, 

Or saw the train go forth. 
Noiselessly as the daylight 

Comes when the night is done, 
Or the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 

Fades in the setting sun — 

Noiselessly as the spring-time 

Her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves: 
So, without sound of music, 

Or voice of them that wept, 
Silently down from the mountain's crown 

That grand procession swept 

Perchance the bald old eagle 

On gray Beth-poor's height, 
Out of his rocky eyrie, 

Looked on the wondrous sight; 
Perchance some lion, stalking, 

Still shuns the hallowed spot. 
For beast and bird have seen and heard 

That which man knoweth not 


Bat when the warrior dieth, 

His comrades in the war, 
With arms reversed and mnffled drums. 

Follow the funeral car; 
They show the banners taken, 

They tell his battles won. 
And after him lead his masterless steed. 

While peals the minute gun. 

Amid the noblest of the land. 

They lay the sage to rest. 
And give the bard an honored place, 

With costly marble dressed. 
In the great minster transept. 

Where lights like glories fall, 
While the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings 

Along the emblazoned walL 

This was the bravest warrior 

That ever buckled sword; 
This the most gifted poet 

That ever breathed a word; 
And never earth's philosopher 

Traced with his golden pen. 
On the deathless page, truths half so sage 

As he wrote down for men. 

And had he not high honor, 

The hillside for his pall. 
To lie in state while angels wait. 

With stars for tapers tall; 
The dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes. 

Over his bier to wave. 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land. 

To lay him in his grave? 

In that deep grave without a name, 

Whence his unooffined clay 
Shall break again— most wondrous thought t — 

Before the judgment day, 


And sUind. with glosy wrapped around. 

On the hills he never trod. 
And speak of the strife that won oar life 

Througta Christ the IncarB&Ce God. 

O loaely tomb in Uoab's laad! 

O dark Beth-poor'a hill! 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours, 

Aod teach them to be still? 
God hath His mysteries of grace, 

Wa^ that we caocot tell; 
He hides them deep, like secret sleep 

Of htm He loved ao welL 

— Cbol Fkahcbs Auxakdik. 


Drkak. break, break. 
^ Od thy cold gray atones, O Seal 
And I would that my ton^e could ntter 
The thoughts that arise in me. 

Oh well for the fisherman's boy. 

That he shouts with his sister at plajl 
Oh well for the sailor lad. 

That he sings in his boat on tha bay! 

And the stately ships go on 

To their haven under the hill: 
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand. 

And the sound of a voice ttiat is stllll 

Break, break, break. 

At the foot of thy crags. O Sea! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come bock to me. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



T HAD sworn to be a bachelor, she had sworn to be a maid, 
^ For we quite agreed in doubting whether matrimony paid ; 
Besides, we had our higher loves: fair science ruled my heart. 
And she said her young affections were all wound up in art 

So we laughed at those wise men who say that friendship 

cannot live 
"Twizt man and woman, unless each has something more to 

We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er were man 

and man: 
I'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan. 

We scorned all sentimental trash — vows, Idsses, tears, and 

High friendship, such as ours, might well such childish arts 

We liked each other — that was all, quite all there was to 

So we just shook hands upon it, in a business sort of way. 

We shared our secrets and our jo3rs, together hoped and 

With common purpose sought the goal that young Ambition 

We dreamed together of the days, the dream-bright days to 

We were strictly confidential, and we called each other 

• chum.* 

And many a day we wandered together o'er the hills; 
I seeking bugs and butterflies, and she the mined mills 
And rustic bridges, and the like, that picture-makers prize 
To run in with their waterfalls, and groves, and summer 


And many a qniet evening, in honn of silent 
We fkiated down the river, or strolled beneath the trees. 
And talked in long gradation, from the poets to the weather. 
While the western skies and my dgar burned slowly out 

Yet through it all no whispered word, no tell-tale glance or 

Told anght of warmer sentiment than friendly S3rmpathy; 
We talked of love as coolly as we talked of Nebiils»» 
And thought no more of being one than we did of being 


*Well, good-bye, chum!* I took her hand, for the time had 

come to go; 
My going meant our parting — when to meet we did not 

I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy 

For although we were but friends, 'tis hard for honest 

friends to part 

* Good-bye, old fellow! don't forget your friends beyond the 

And some day, when you've lots of time, drop a line or two 

to me.* 
The words came lightly, gayly; but a great sob, just behind, 
Welled upward with a story of quite a different kind. 

And then she raised her eyes to mine — great liquid eyes of 

Filled to the brim and running o'er, like violet cups of dew* 

One long, long glance, and then I did, what I never did be- 
fore — 

Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I'm sure the kiss 
meant more. 

— William B. Tkrkktt. 



T SAW two clouds at morning 
^ Tinged by the rising sun, 
And in the dawn they floated on. 

And mingled into one; 
I thought that morning cloud was blessed, 
It moved so sweetly to the west 

I saw two summer currents 

Flow smoothly to their meeting, 
And join their course, with silent force, 

In peace each other greeting; 
Calm was their course through banks of green. 
While dimpling eddies played between. 

Such be your gentle motion, 

Till life's last pulse shall beat; 
Like summer's beam, and sunmier's stream, 

Float on, in joy, to meet 
A calmer sea, where storms shall cease, 
A purer sky, where all is peace. 

—John G. C. Brainard. 


[Written when the whole ooantry. North and South, wu anzioaalj 
awaHinff the actioa of the douhtful States, this poem, one of the finest 
lyrics the War produced, has kMt none of its beauty as a passionate ap- 
peal, a stirring call to arms. The allusion in the fifth stanxa ("A new 
Key") is to the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner," who was a 

n^Hi despot's heel is on thy shore, 
'^ Maryland ! 

His tofch is at thy temple door, 
Maryland ! 


Avenge the patriotic gore 

That flecked the streets of Baltlmovft 

And be the battle-queen of yoro, 

Maryland, my liarylaiidf 

Hark to thy wandering son's appeal 

My mother State: to thee I kneel, 

For life and death, for woe and weal. 
Thy peerless chivalry reveal. 
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

Thou wilt not cower in the dust, 

Thy beaming sword shall tiever rust 

Remember Carroll's sacred trust; 
Remember Howard's war-like thrust; 
And all thy slumberers with the just, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day, 

Come with thy panoplied array, 

With Ringgold's spirit for the fray. 
With Watson's blood at Monterey, 
With fearless Lowe, and dashing May, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

Come! for thy shield is bright and strong, 

Maryland ! 
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, 

Maryland ! 
Come to thine own heroic throng. 
That stalks with Liberty along. 
And gives a new Key to thy song, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 


Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain! 

Virginia should not call in vain, 

She meets her sisters on the plain; 
Sic semper, 'tis the proud refrain, 
That baffles minionii back amain, 

Maryland ! 
Arise in majesty again, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

the blush upon thy cheek, 

For thou wast ever bravely meek, 

But lo! there surges forth a shriek. 
Prom hill to hill, from creek to creek, 
Potomac calls to Chesapeake, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, 

Thou wilt not crook to his control, 

Better the fire upon thee roll. 
Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, 
Than crucifixion of the soul, 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

I hear the distant thunder hum, 

The old Line's bugle, fife and drum, 

Maryland ! 
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb; 
Hussa! she spurns the Northern scum! 
She breathes! she bums! she'll come, she'll come! 

Maryland, my Maryland! 

— Jamis Rydbk Randaxx. 




FOUND a Rome of common clay,* imperial Omar cried; 

*I left a Rome of marble!* No other Rome beside! 
The aget wrote their autographs along the acnlptnred atone — 
The golden eagles flew abroad — Augustan splendors shone — 
They made a Roman of the world! They trailed the classic 

And flung the Latin toga around the naked globe! 

*I found Chicago wood and clay,* a mightier Kaiser said. 
Then flung upon the sleeping mart his royal robes of red« 
And temple, dome, and colonnade, and monument and spire 
Put on the crimson livery of dreadful Kaiser Fire! 
The stately piles of polished stone were shattered into sand. 
And madly drove the dread simoon, and snowed them on 

the land; 
And rained them till the sea was red, and scorched the 

wings of prayer! 
Like thistle-down ten thousand homes went drifting thxoagfa 

the air, 
And dumb Dismay walked hand in hand with frosen-eyed 


Chicago vanished in a cloud — the towers were storms of 

Lo! ruins of a thousand years along the spectral street! 

The night burned out between the days! The ashen hoar- 
frost fell. 
As if some demon set ajar the bolted gates of hell. 
And let the molten billows break the adamantine bars, 
4 roll the smoke of torment up to smother out the stars! 
I low, dull growl of powder-blasts just dotted off the din, 
if they tolled for perished clocks the time that might 
have been! 


The thunder of the fiery surf roared hnman accents dumb; 
The trumpet's clangor died away a wild bee's drowsy hum, 
And breakers beat the empty world that rumbled like a 

O cities of the Silent Land! O Graceland and Rosehill! 
No tombs without their tenantry? The pale host sleeping 

Your marble thresholds dawning red with holocaustal glare. 
As if the Waking Angel's foot were set upon the stair! 

But ah, the human multitudes that marched before the flame — 
As 'mid the Red Sea's wavy walls the ancient people came! 
Behind, the rattling chariots! the Pharaoh of Fire! 
The rallying volley of the whips, the jarring of the tire! — 
Looked round, and saw the homeless world as dismal as a 

Looked up, and saw God's blessed Blue a firmament so dire ! 
As in the days of burning Troy, when Virgil's hero fled. 
So gray and trembling pilgrims found some younger feet 

That bore them through the wilderness with bold elastic 

And Ruth and Rachel, pale and brave, in silence walked be- 
side ; 
Those Bible girls of Judah's day did make that day sublime — 
Leave life but them, no other loss can ever bankrupt Time! 

Men stood and saw their all caught up in chariots of flame— 
No mantle falling from the sky they ever thought to daim. 
And empty-handed as the dead, they turned away and 

And bore a stranger's household gods and saved a stran- 
ger's child! 
What valor brightened into shape, like statues in a hall. 
When on their dusky panoply the blazing torches fall. 
Stood bravely out, and saw the world spread wings of fiery 

And not a trinket of a star to crown disastered night! 

— Benjamin F. Taylox. 



c'niKT made her a grave too cold and damp 

^ For a soul so warm and true; 
And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, 
Where, all night long, b}* a fire-fly lamp, 

She paddles her white canoe. 

*And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see 

And her paddle I soon shall hear; 
Long and loving our life shall be. 
And 111 hide the maid in a cypress tree, 

When the footstep of Death is near.* 

Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds; 

His path was rugged and sore. 
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds. 
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds, 

And man never trod before. 

And, when on earth he sunk to sleep. 

If slumber his eyelids knew. 
He lay where the deadly vine doth weep 
Its venomous tear, and nightly steep 

The flesh with blistering dew. 

And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake. 

And the coppersnake breathed in his ear, 
Till he starting, cried, from his dream awake, 
*Oh, when shall I see the dusky lake. 
And the white canoe of my dear?* 

He saw the lake, and a meteor bright 

Quick over its surface played; 
•Welcome,* he said, **my dear one's light!* 
And the dim shore echoed for many a night 

The name of the death-cold maid. 


Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark 
Which carried him off from the shore; 

Far, £aLT, he followed the meteor spark; 

The winds were hinfh, and the ckmds were dark. 
And the boat returned no more. 

But oft from the Indian hunter's camp 

This lover and maid so true 
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp 
To cross the lake by a fire-fly kmp, 

And paddle their white canoe. 

— Thomas Mooub. 


[Prom «Cliilde Harold,* Cftnto L] 

THK lists are oped, the spacious area clear'd. 
Thousands on thousands piled are seated round; 
Long ere the first loud trumpet's note is heard, 
No vacant space for lated wight is found: 
Here dons, grandees, but chiefly dames abound, 
Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye. 

Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound; 
None through their cold disdain are doomed to die, 
As moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery. 

Hush'd is the din of tongues — on gallant steeds. 

With milk-white crests, gold spur, and light-poised 
Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds. 

And lowly bending to the lists advance; 

Rich are their scarfs, their charges featly prance: 
If in the dangerous game they shine to-day. 

The crowd's loud shout and ladies' lovely glance. 
Best prize of better acts, they bear away. 
And all that kings or chief e'er gain their toils repay. 


la oofUy sheen and gaudy cloak amy'd. 
But all afoot, the light-llm'd Matadore 

Stands in the center, eager to invade 
The lord of lowing herds; bat not befora 
The ground, with cautious tread, is travers ed o^er. 

Lest aught unseen should lurk, to thwart his speed: 
His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more 

Can man achieve without his friendly steed — 
Alas! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and b l eed. 

Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls. 
The den expands, and Expectation mute 

Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls. 
Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty bmte, 
And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot. 

The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe; 
Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit 

His first attack, wide waving to and fro 
His angry tail; red rolls his eyes' dilated glow. 

Sudden he stops; his eye is fix'd: away, 

Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear: 
Now is thy time to perish, or display 

The skill that yet may check his mad career. 

With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer; 
On foams the bull, but not unscathed he goes; 

Streams from his fiank the crimson torrent clear; 
He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes; 
Dart follows dart; lance, lance; loud bellowing speaks 

his woes. 

Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail. 

Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse; 
Though man and man's avenging arms assail. 

Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force. 

One gallant steed is stretched a mangled corse; 
Another, hideous sight! unseam'd appears; 

His gory chest unveils life's panting source, 
Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears; 
Staggering, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he bears. 


Foil'd, bleeding, breatliless, furious to the last, 
Full in the center stands the bull at bay, 

'Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast. 
And foes disabled in the brutal fray: 
And now the Matadores around him play. 

Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand: 
Once more through all he bursts his thundering way. 

Vain rage: the mantle quits the cunning hand, 
Wraps his fierce eye; 'tis past; he sinks upon the sand. 

— GioKGi Gordon, Lord Byron. 


THBRS is no flock, however watched and tended 
But one dead lamb is there; 
There Is no fireside, howsoe'er defended. 
But has one vacant chair. 

The air is full of farewells to the djring, 

And mournings for the dead; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted! 

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise. 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; 

Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but sad funereal tapers, 

May be Heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no death! What seems so Is transitkm; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 

Whose portal we call death. 


She ie not dead— the child o£ our affection — 

But gone into that school 
Where the no longer needs our poor p ro tac t l oo. 

And Christ himself doth mle. 

In that grtat cloister's stillneis and seduslon. 

By gnardian angels led. 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's poUutioOt 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air; 
Year after year, her tender steps parsning. 

Behold her grown more fair. 

Thns do we walk with her and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken. 

May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her; 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her. 

She will not be a child ; 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion. 

Clothed with celestial grace; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times, impetuous with emotion 

And anguish long suppressed. 
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean. 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing. 

The grief that must have way. 




ONcs upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 
While I nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came a tap- 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door: 
^'Tis some visitor, >> I muttered, <> tapping at my chamber door, 
Only this and nothing more.^ 

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the blea)c December, 
And each separate, dying ember wrought its ghost upon the 

Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow 
Prom my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Le- 

nore — 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 


Nameless here forevermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me, filled me, with fantastic terrors never felt before; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating: 
*'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door. 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; 
This is it, and nothing more.^ 

Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, 
* Sir,* said I, *0r Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rap- 
And so faintly yon came tapping, tapping at my chamber 

That I scarce was sure I heard you.* Here I opened wide 
the door; 

Darkness there, and nothing more, 
t »— 23 


Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood thoro, woadeN 

ing, fearing, 
Doabting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream 

Bat the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back tba word, 


Merely this and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me bant- 
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before. 

* Surely,* said I, << surely that is something at my window 

lattice ; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore; 
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; 
'Tis the wind and nothing more.* 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and 

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or 

stayed he. 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber 

door — 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door, 
Perched and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebon bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling. 
By the grave and stem decorum of the countenance it wore. 

* Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,* I said, *art 

sure no craven, 
Qhastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the 

Nightly shore. 
Pen me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian 


Quoth the Raven, « Nevermore.* 


Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear diacoume so 

Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living hiunan being 
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door, 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber 


With such name as * Nevermore.* 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only 

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did out- 

Nothing further then be uttered, not a feather then he flut- 

Till I scarcely more than muttered: ^ Other friends have 
flown before; 

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown 

Then the bird said, ^Nevermore.* 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 

* Doubtless,* said I, ^what it utters is its only stock and 

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Dis- 

Followed fast, and followed faster till his songs one burden 

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 
Of * Never, Nevermore.** 

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and 

bust and door; 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore. 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird 

of yore 

Meant in croaking * Nevermore.* 



To tiM fowl ^Hioae 

IB gilt wmg, \nxt 
fien- cye^ now 

nb mad 
Ob the 

more I sat d:\nn:xig, vith my 
cnshian's ^•el\'e: lining that tfae 
\Yh«ri. i-i.'lrt hning with the 
She shall press. &h. iieveiuiore 


Srr^T>h:=: vbcse foodalji tiskj 

He hi.i± sr 

c • ITT Gdc bfc*± 

of Lc- 

at ?a 

4 r 

r ^;* 

'*a:ci lie •j.-^ts. * Ne - ' cuj c^ » 

t - — 

z. cr 

^z, :r 

r« zi^ 


* sill I- * ""V^g 11 J!*»"l 

r jcIL if *3irf 

£ A^^uve 

"T Au&z. z. TTimn Tse 

•^■« « 



* Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! * I shrieked, 

«Get thee back into the tempest and the Nighfs Plutonian 

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken * 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! Quit the bust above my door! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from 

off my door!>> 

Quoth the Raven, « Nevermore.* 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door. 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is 

And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on 

the floor; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the 


Shall be lifted — nevermore! 

— Edoak Allan Poi. 



T17HO can judge a man from manners? 
^^ Who shall know him by his dress? 
Paupers may be fit for princes. 

Princes fit for something less. 
Crumpled shirt and dirty jacket 

May beclothe the golden ore 
Of the deepest thought and feeling — 

Satin vest could do no more. 
There are springs of crystal nectar 

Even swelling out of stone; 
There are purple buds and golden. 

Hidden, cru^ied and overgrown. 


God who counts by sonlt, not droMes, 
Loves and prospers yon and me; 

While He values thrones the highest 
Bnt as pebbles on the sea. 

Man appraised above his fellows. 

Oft forgets his fellows, then; 
Masters — rulers — lords, remember 

That your meanest hands are men! 
Men of labor, men of feeling. 

Men by thought and men by fame. 
Claiming equal rights to sunshine 

In a man's ennobling name. 
There are foam-embroidered oceans. 

There are little wood-clad rills. 
There are feeble inch-high saplings. 

There are cedars on the hills. 
God who couDts by souls, not stations. 

Loves and prospers you and me. 
For to Him all vain distinctions 

Are as pebbles on the sea. 

Toiling hands alone are builders 

Of a nation's wealth and fame; 
Titled laziness is pensioned, 

Fed and fattened on the same; 
By the sweat of others' foreheads 

Living only to rejoice. 
While the poor man's outraged freedom 

Vainly lifteth to its voice. 
Truth and justice are eternal. 

Bom with loveliness and light; 
Secret wrongs shall never prosper 

While there is a sunny height. 
God, whose holy voice is singing 

Boundless love to you and me, 
Sinks oppression with its titles, 

As the pebbles on the sea. 

— Anonymous. 



9'y»WAS the last fight at Fredericksburg — 
^ Perhaps the day you reck. 

Our boys, the Twenty-second Maine, 
Kept Early's men in check; 

Just where Wade Hampton boomed away 
The fight went neck-and-neck. 

All day we held the weaker wing, 

And held it with a will; 
Five several stubborn times we charged 

The battery on the hill, 
And five times beaten back, re-formed, 

And kept our columns stiU. 

At last from out the center fight 

Spurred up a general's aid. 
«That battery must silenced bc!» 

He cried, as past he sped. 
Our colonel simply touched his cap, 

And then, with measured tread, 

To lead the crouching line once more 

The grand old fellow came. 
No wounded man but raised his head. 

And strove to g^p his name. 
And those who could not speak nor stir, 

*God blessed him^ just the same. 

For he was all the world to us. 

That hero gray and grim; 
Right well he knew that fearful slope 

We'd climb with none but him. 
Though while his white head led the way 

We'd charge hell's portals in. 

"Up. charge again i 
But hung his doj 

■We've ao one left 
The aullea soldiei 

Jn»t then, before th 

The cdouel's hon 

. Bay BiUy. with bia 

Hit Dostriis >wdli 

As though still on b 

The muter oat as 

Right royally he too 

That was of old b 

And with a neigh, tl 

Above the battle's 

■How can the Twen 

If 1 am not in froi 

Like statues we stooc 

And gated a little 

Above that floating n 

The dear familiar f 

But we saw Bay Billj 

And it gave ns hea 

No buB-le call ivhiM » 


And when upon the conquered height 

Died out the battle's hum, 
Vainly 'mid living and the dead 

We sought our leader dombj 
It teemed as if a spectre steed 

To win that day had come. 

At last the morning broke. The lark 

Sang in the merry skies 
As if to e*en the sleepers there 

It said, awake, arise! 
Though naught but that last trump of all 

Could ope their heavy eyes. 

And then once more, with banners gay. 

Stretched out the long brigade; 
Trimly upon the furrowed field 

The troops stood on parade, 
And bravely 'mid the ranks were closed 

The gaps the fight had made. 

Not half the Twenty-second's men 

Were in their place that mom. 
And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon 

Stood six brave fellows on. 
Now touched my elbow in the ranks. 

For all between were gone. 

Ah I who forgets that dreary hour 

When, as with misty eyes. 
To call the old familiar roll 

The solemn sergeant tries? 
One feels that thumping of the heart 

As no prompt voice replies. 

And as, in faltering tone and slow. 

The last few names were said. 
Across the field some missing horse 

Toiled up with weary tread; 
It caught the sergeant's eye, and quick 

Bay Billy's name was read. 

And ever from thi 
When rang the i 

Bay Billy's name \ 
The whole line a 


Dou tbe roftd wind n 
Vm. to the very ei 
Win the dajr's journey t 
From mom to night, I 

fiut 1b there for tbe nlgl 
A roof for wheo the b! 

Hay not the dftrkoeBS fav 
You cannot mlas that j 

Shall I meet other wayfi 
Those who have gone 

Then most I koock, or c 
They will not keep yoi 



[It is nid that the author of this poi>u1ar poem wished to remain nii> 
known. It was first published in the * Southern Churchman,* her name 
being attached without her knowledge. While it may be a matter of 
wonder that she has never written anything else, it may be conjectured 
that her wishes have not been disregarded in respect to other poema.] 

f NTO a ward of the whitewashed walls, 
^ Where the dead and dying lay, 
Wounded by bayonets, sheUs, and balls, 

Somebody's Darling was borne one day. 
Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave, 

Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face, 
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, 

The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. 

Biatted and damp are the curls of gold. 

Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; 
Pale are the lips of delicate mold: 

Somebody's Darling is dying now. 
Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow 

Brush all the wandering waves of gold, 
Cross his hands on his bosom now: 

Somebody's Darling is still and cold. 

Kiss him once for Somebody's sake; 

Murmur a prayer soft and low; 
One bright curl from its fair mates take. 

They were Somebody's pride, you know; 
Somebody's hand had rested there: 

Was it a mother's, soft and white ? 
And have the lips of a sister fair 

Been baptized in those waves of light? 

God knows best; he was Somebod/s love; 

Somebody's heart enshrined him there; 
Somebody wafted his name above 

Night and mom on the wings of prayer; 

Tenderly bury the f 
^ Pausing to drop o 
: on the woode 



A OAii* I hear 

'^ He'a nppi 

Too well I kno 

Th»t oBhers i 

I do not trembl 

The stootest ■ 

But Heaven def 

Who comes, b 

H« drops Into n 

And asks aboi 

He peers into m 

And gives hrs 

He tells me wbc 

And where he' 

He takes the str 


He calmly smokes my best cigar 

And coolly asks for more; 
He opens everything he sees, 

Except — the entry door. 

He talks aboat his fragile health, 

And tells me of his pains; 
He suffers from a score of ills 

Of which he ne'er complains; 
And how he struggled once with death 

To keep the fiend at bay. 
On themes like those away he goes, 

But never goes — away! 

He tells me of the captious words, 

Some shallow critic wrote, 
And every precious paragraph 

Familiarly can quote. 
He thinks the writer did me wrong, 

He*d like to run him through! 
He says a thousand pleasant things. 

But never says — adieu. 

Whene'er he comes, that dreadful man, 

Disguise it as I may, 
I know that like an autumn rain. 

He'll last throughout the day. 
In vain 1 speak of urgent tasks. 

In vain I scowl and pout; 
A frown is no exting^sher. 

It does not — put him out. 

I mean to take the knocker off. 

Put crape upon the door. 
Or hint to John that I am gone 

To stay a month or more. 
I do not tremble when I meet 

The stoutest of my foes — 
But Heaven defend me from the friend 

Who never, never goeil 

—J. G. Saxs. 

O'er the ramparts we wa' 
And the rockefs red gUrc, i 
G»ve proof, through the njgl 
Oh say! doea that star-apanj 
O'er the land of the free an, 

On that ahore, dimly aeen th 
Wb«re the foe's hauj^ty h 
What is that which the braei 
As it fitfully blows, now co 
Now it catches the gleam of 
In full glory reflected, now si 
Tis the star-spangted banner 
O-er the land of the free and 

And «Aere Is that band irtio 
That the havoc of war and 
A home and a conntry shoold 
Their blood has washed out 
No refuge could save the hire 
Prom the terror of flight or tl 
And the star-spangled banner 
Oer the land of the free and 


Thus conquer we must, when oar cause it is just. 
And this be our motto: ^In God is our trust!* 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! 

— FRANas Scott Kby. 


BLESSINGS on thee, little man, 
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! 
With thy turned-up pantaloons, 
And thy merry whistled tunes; 
With thy red lip, redder still 
Kissed by strawberries on the hill; 
With the stmshine on thy face. 
Through thy torn brim*s jaunty grace! 
From my heart I give thee joy: 
I was once a barefoot boy. 
Prince thou art — the grown-up man 
Only is republican. 
Let the million-dollared ride! 
Barefoot, trudging at his side, 
Thou hast more than he can buy, 
In the reach of ear and eye: 
Outward sunshine, inward joy. 
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! 

O, for boyhood's painless play, 
Sleep that wakes in laughing day. 
Health that mocks the doctor's rules. 
Knowledge never learned of schools: 
Of the wild bee's morning chase, 
Of the wild flower's time and place. 
Plight of fowl, and habitude 
Of the tenants of the wood; 
How the tortoise bears his shell. 
How the woodchuck digs his cell, 
And the ground-mole sinks his well; 

Of gray hornet a 
For escheviing be 
Nature answers ; 
Haad in hand w 
F»ce to fac« witl 
Rirt ftnd pucel c 
Bleatlngs on tho 

O. tor boyhood** I 
Crowding jrean ti 
When all things I 
Ue, their master, 
I WM rich In flow 
Humming-birds u 
For my sport the 
Pllod the sniMt«d 
For ray taste tho 
Purpled over bedg) 
Laughed the brool 
Through the day a 
Whispering at the 
Talked with me fn 
Mine the sand-rimi 

M).i. .1 ._ . . 


Seemed a complex Chinese toy, 
Fashioned for a barefoot boy! 

O, for festal dainties spread. 
Like my bowl of milk and bread. 
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood. 
On the door-stone, gray and mdel 
O'er me, like a regal tent. 
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent; 
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold. 
Looped in many a wind-swung fold; 
While, for music, came the play 
Of the pied frogs* orchestra; 
And, to light the noisy choir. 
Lit the fly his lamp of fire. 
I was monarch; pomp and joy 
Waited on the barefoot boyl 

Cheerily, then, my little man! 
Live and laugh as boyhood can; 
Though the flinty slopes be hard, 
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward. 
Every mom shall lead thee through 
Fresh baptisms of the dew; 
Every evening from thy feet 
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat; 
All too soon these feet must hide 
In the prison-cells of pride, 
Lose the freedom of the sod. 
Like a colt's for work be shod. 
Made to tread the mills of toil, 
Up and down in ceaseless moil; 
Happy if their track be found 
Never on forbidden ground; 
Happy if they sink not in 
Quick and treacherous sands of tin. 
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy. 
Ere it passes, barefoot boy! 

— John Grxsnixaf WBimxa. 



(Well koaini u Ibc fiTOilte 9 

n of Pnddcnl LlnEoln.l 

OH ! WHY should the apiril: of mortal be proad ? 
Like a swift -tieetiag meieoi. a fast-flying cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
He passes frota life to his rest in the grave. 

Th« lcave<i of the oali and the wiHow shall fade. 

Be scattered around, and together be laid ; 

Aad the young, aod the old. and the low and the higli, j 

Shall molder to dust, aod tog«theT shall lie. 

The infant a mother attended and loved. 
The mother that infant's affection who proved. 
The husband that infant aitd mother who blessed. 
Each, all. are away to theii dwelling of rest. 

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eyvl 

Shone beauty and pleaaiire, her triumphs are by; 

And the memory of those that beloved her aud praised 

AiG alike from the miads of the living erased. 

The hand of the king that the soeptre hath borne. 
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn, 1 

The eye of the sage, and the heart of the bravo 
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap. 
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats to th« ftt«q^^ 
The Ijeggar, who wandered in search of his br«ad, 
Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 

The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven 
The sinner, who dared to remaia nnforg^ven. 


The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just. 
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust 

So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed* 
That wither away, to let others succeed; 
So the multitude comes, even those we behold. 
To repeat every tale that hath often been told. 

For we are the same that our fathers have been. 
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen; 
We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun 
And mn the same course that our fathers have run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think. 
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink, 
To the life we are cliag^g our fathers would cling. 
But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing. 

They loved, but the story we cannot unfold. 
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cokl; 
They grieved, but no voice from their slumbers may come; 
They joyed, but the voice of their gladness is dumb. 

They died; aye, they died; and we, things that are now. 
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow. 
Who make in their dwelling a transient abode. 
Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road. 

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain. 

Are mingled together like sunshine and rain; 

And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge 

Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 

Tis the twink of an eye, 'tis the draft of a breath. 
Prom the blossom of health to the paleness of death. 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud. 
Oh, wtf should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 

—William Knox 

vviiQ iruitiess la 

And strove to st 

The monk, with 

Exhausted all tb 

Ever, be said, tb 

A Udy's voice v 

And that the pr: 

For that il 

•In the tort battle. 

Where t&lngles war"! 

So the nob 

* Avoid thee, frie 
Shake aot the d] 
O look, mj son, i 
Of the Redeemet 

O think on 
By many a deatl) 
And many a sine 

But never i 
The war, that for 
Now trebly thunc 

And «SUnl 
A light on Marm 

And fired fa 
With dying hand, 





THE harp that once through Tara*s halls 
The soul of music shed, 
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 

As if that soul were fled! 
So sleeps the pride of former days, 

So glory's thrill is o*er, 
And hearts that once beat high for praise 
Now feel that pulse no more. 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells; 
The chord alone that breaks at night 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes 

The only throb she gives. 
Is when some heart indignant breaks 

To show that still she lives. 

~ Thomas Mooib. 


ABiAUTiFUL and happy girl. 
With step as light as summer air, 
Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of pearl, 
Shadowed by many a careless curl 
Of unconfined and flowing hair; 
A seeming child in every thing, 

Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms. 
As nature wears the smile of Spring, 
When sinking into Summer's arms. 


A mind rajoiciiiK in the ligbt 

Wtaicb metted thraagh Its grmceful boi 
Leaf after leal, dew-moist and brigbt. 
And stAioless in Its holy white. 

Unfolding like a morning Rower. 
A heart, which, tilce a fine-toned lute, 

With every breath of feeling woke, 
And. even when the tongue was mute, 

Prom eye and lip in mnslc spoke. 

How thrills once mora the lengthening ch«!o 

Of memory at the thought of Iheel 
Old hopes, which long in dust have lain. 
Old dreams, come Lbrongiag back again. 

And boyhood lives again in me; 
I feet its glow upon my cheek. 

Its fullness of the heart Is mine, 
As when I leaned to hear thee speak. 

Or raised mj doubtfnl ey« to thiott. 

I hear again thy low replies, 

I feel thy arm within my owiL 
And timidly again uprise 
The fringed lids of tuuel eyes. 

With soft brown treatM orerblom. 
Ahl I 

Of moonlit wave and wiDofry ^ ^^^ 
Of stars, and flowers, and dewy leavia. 

And smiles and uxios more dear tliaa tlMyl 

Ere this, thy qtilet eye hath smilod 

Uy picture of the ynolh to m«. 
When, half a woman, half a chUd, 
Thy very artlevneta bognlkd. 

And fol^ HlC umad wIm la thae; 
I too can Hrt)^ wbm e'er tbat boor 

The y^llfg^jarnK'rj lra';V-wikrd j 


Years have passed on and left their trace 

Of gpraver care and deeper thought; 
And unto me the calm, cold face 
Of manhood, and to thee the grace 

Of woman's pensive beauty brought 
More wide, perchance, for blame than praise. 

The school-boy's humble name has flown; 
Thine, in the green and quiet ways 

Of unobtrusive goodness known. 

And wider yet in thought and deed 

Diverge our pathways, one in youth; 
Thine the Genevan's sternest creed. 
While answers to my spirit's needs 

The Derby dalesman's simple truth; 
For thee, the priestly rite and prayer, 

And holy day, and solemn psalm; 
For me, the silent reverence where 

My brethren gather slow and calm. 

Yet hath thy spirit left on me 

An impress time hath not worn out. 
And something of m3r8elf in thee, 
A shadow from the past, I see. 

Lingering, even yet, thy way about; 
Not wholly can the heart unlearn 

That lesson of its better hours; 
Not yet has Time's dull footstep worn 

To common dust that path of flowers. 

Thus, while at times, before our eyes, 

The shadows melt and fall apart. 
And smiling through them round us lies 
The warm light of our morning skies. 

The Indian summer of the heart: 
In secret sympathies of mind. 

In founts of feeling which retain 
Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find 

Our early dreams not wholly vain. 

— John Guenlbaf WmmiR. 

\Vhat a world of men 

How they tinkle 

In the icy air 

While the stare 

All the heavens 

Witl) ft crystal 

Keeping time, ti 

To the tintinnabulatioi 

Prom the bells, 1 

Bell^ b 

Prom Qit jingling and 

Rear the mellow 


What a world of bappj 

Through the bali 

How they ring o 

From the molti 

And aU 

O, from out the i 

What a gush of euphot 

How it I 

How it . 

On the futnrel 


Hear the loud alarum bells — 
Brasen bells! 
What a tale of terror, now. their turbulency tells! 
In the startled ear of night 
How they scream out their affright 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire I 
Leaping higher, higher, higher. 
O, the bells, bells, bells I 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of despair! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air I 
Yet the ear, it fully knows. 
By the twanging 
And the clanging. 
How the danger ebbs and flows; 
Yet the ear distinctly tells, 
In the jangling 
And the wrangling. 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the beUs— 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Bells, bells, bells — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! 

Hear the tolling of the bells — 

Iron bells! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels I 
In the silence of the night. 
How we shiver with affright. 
At the melancholy menace of their tone! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the people — ah, the people! 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 


And wbo toUrag. tolling, talliug, 

In that muffled monotone. 
Feel k gtory in so railing 

On the humao beait a stoiie. 
Tbey are seither roan nor woman; 
They are neither brute nor human — 

Tbey are ghouls: 
And their king It is who tolls; 
And be rolls, roUs. rolls, 

Eeepiog time, time. time. 

To the throbbing of the bells— 

To the sobbing of the bells; 

As he knells. kneUs. knell^— 

To the rolling of the bells.— 

To the tolling of the bells. 
To the moaning and the groAuing of the bells. 

— Edgab a. Pot 


[prom -CUH, tbe Hajd of MiUn.*] 

'llJliD pleasures and palaces though we may room, 
''* Be it ever so humble, there's no place like hornet 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there. 
Which, seek through the world, is not met with elsewhere. 

Home, home! sweet, swe«t borne! 

There's no place like home! 

There's no place like home! 

An exile from home, pleasure daczles in vain; 

Ah. give me my lowly thatched cottage again! 

The birds singing sweetly that came at my call. 

Give me them, and that peace of mind, dearer than all! 

Home, home! sweet, sweet home I 

There's no place like faomel 

There's no place like homo! 

— John Howabd Pavkx. 




THB Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 


Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen: 
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. 


For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast. 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; 
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill. 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still! 


And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide. 
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride: 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the tnr^ 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 


And there lay the rider distorted and pale. 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 


And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail. 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword. 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! 

— Gborgb Gordon, Lord Byron. 

And leaves the voi 

Now fades the glimir 
And all the air a s 

Sav« where the baetl< 
And drowsy tinkliu, 

Savs that, from yoadt 
The moping owl do 

Of tnch as, wandering 
Molest her ancient : 

BeoeBtb thoae niggfed 
Where heaves the ti 

Each In bis narrow ce 
Th« rade forefathen 

The breety call of inc 
The Gwaltow twltteri 

The cock's shrill clario 
No mor« shall rouse 

For them no more the 
Or busy housewife p 

No children run to lisp 
Or climb his knees t: 


Let not Ambition mock their useful toll, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
The short and simple annals of the poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e*er gave. 

Await alike the inevitable hour: 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault. 
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 

Can storied urn, or animated bust. 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 

Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust. 
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 

Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed* 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 

Chill penury repressed their noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of the souL 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 

Full many a flower is born to blush tmseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The little tyrant of his fields withstood; 

Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest. 
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 


And shut the gates of m< 

The struggHng pangs of co: 
To quench the bluabes of 

Or heap tbe ahrino of Inxni 
With incetiae Idndled at L 

Par from tba madding cron 
Tbeir sober wiahu never 

A\oBg the cool, aeqnestered 
They kept the noiseless ta 

Yet e'en these booea from li 
Some frail memorial still < 

With DDconth rhymes and si 
Implores the passing tribal 

Their names, their year*, ape 
Tbe place of fame and elej 

And many a holy text aroan 
That teach the nutlc mora 

For who, to dtmib forgetfoln* 

This pleasing, anxious bein 

Left the wann precincts of tl 


For thee, who, mindful of the tmhonored dead, 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate. 

E'en chance, by lonely Contemplation led. 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
*Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn. 

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away. 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 

* There at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high. 

His listless length at noontide would he stretch. 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 

*Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn. 
Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; 

Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, 
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 

«One mom, I missed him on the 'customed hill. 
Along the heath, and near his favorite tree; 

Another came, nor yet beside the rill. 
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 

*The next with dirges due in sad array. 

Slow through the church way path we saw him borne; 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 

Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.* 


Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth. 

A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown; 
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth. 

And Melancholy marked him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; 

Heaven did a recompense as largely send; 
He gave to misery, all he had, a tear; 

He gained from Heaven, 'twas all he wished, a friend. 

'■ ?! 

DON'T Tji 

i Wc 

And into the wat 

Did we 

And tei 

And give it ft pei 

Would - 

Were we not now 
So Mdl] 
And qn; 

It hatchea out all 

How we 
Of looks 

Whether one'a wei 
Eyes bri 
Cheeks i 

Th« gixMn and thi 




THBRX is no death! The stars go down 
To rise upon some fairer shore; 
And bright, in heaven's jeweled crown, 
They shine for evermore. 

There is no death! The dust we tread 
Shall change beneath the summer showers 

To golden grain or mellow fruit. 
Or rainbow-tinted flowers. 

The granite rocks disorganize, 
And feed the hungpry moss they bear; 

The forest-leaves drink daily life 
Prom out the viewless air. 

There is no death! The leaves may fall. 
And flowers may fade and pass away; 

They only wait through wintry hours 
The coming of May-day. 

There is no death ! An angel-form 
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread; 

And bears our best-loved things away, 
And then we call them ^dead.* 

He leaves our hearts all desolate. 
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers; 

Transplanted into bliss, they now 
Adorn immortal bowers. 

The bird-like voice, whose jo3rous tones 
Made glad the scenes of sin and strife, 

Sings now an everlasting song 
Aroimd the tree of life. 

And ever near us. 
The' dear immoi 

For all the bouadl 

Is life— tber« Is 

— Si» Bdwa 

[Fran •UiM EHmiiuci 

/"•old! Gold! Go 
^~* Bright and yt 
Molten. gTkveo. hai 
Heavy to get, and 
Hoarded, bartered. 
Stolen, borrowed, n 
Spumed by the yoi 
To the very verge 
Price of many a cr 
Gold! Gold! Gold; 
Good or bad. a thoi 
How widely its a 




'TWILL me not, in mournful numbers, 
^ Life is but an empty dream: 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real! Life is earnest I 
And the grave is not its goal; 

Dust thou art, to dust retumest. 
Was not spoken of the souL 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find U8 farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 
And our hearts, though stout and brave. 

Still, like muffled drums are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle! 

Be' a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead! 
Act, act in the living present! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead! 

Lives of great men all remind ui 
We can make our lives sublime. 

And, departing, leave behind us. 
Footprints on the sands of Time; 


'Thi breakinff wave 

On a stem and 

And the woods agali 

Their giant brand 

And the heavy night 
The hills and watc 

When a band of exit 
On the wild New 1 

Not as the canqneror 
They, the true hear 

Not with the roll of 
And the tnunpet tt 

Not as the flying con 
In silence and in k 

They shook the depth 
With their hvn.n. « 


The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam. 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared— 

This was their welcome home! 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amidst that pilgrim-band; 
Why had they come to wither there, 

Away from their childhood's land? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth; 
There was manhood's brow, serenely hig^ 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? 

They sought a faith's pure shrine. 

Aye, call it holy ground — 

The soil where first they trod! 
They have left unstained what there they found' 

Freedom to worship God! 

— Peucia Dorothea Hucams. 


jlilY DAYS pass pleasantly away; 

^"^ My nights are blest with sweetest sleep; 

I feel no symptoms of decay; 

I have no cause to mourn or weep; 
My foes are impotent and shy; 

My friends are neither false nor cold; 
And yet, of late, I often sigh, 
I'm growing old I 


My gTOwiag Ulk of oldec times. 

My growing thirst for early new^ 
My growing apathy to rbymes. 

My growing love of easy shoes. 
My growing hate of ctowiIb and noise, 

My growing fear of taking cold. 
All whisper, in the plainest vcdce. 
I'm growing old I 

Tta growing fonder of my staff; 

Fm growing dimmer in the eyes; 
Fm growing fainter in my hiugh: 

Fm growing deeper in my sighs; 
Tm growing careless of my dress ; 

I'm growing frugal of m y gold ; 

Fm growing wise; Fm growing — yea, 

I'm growing old ! 

1 Ece it in my changing drass; 

I see it la my changing hair; 
1 see it in my growing wsist; 

I see it in my growing hair; 
A thousaod signs proclaim the truth. 

As plain as truth was ever told. 
That even in my vaunted yonth. 
Fm growing old! 

Ah me! ray very laurels breathe 
The tale in my reluctant ears. 

And every boon the Hours bequeath 
But makes me debtor to the Years; 

E'en Flattery's honeyed word* declare 
The secret she would fain withhold, 

And tells me in "How yoong you are!* 
I'm growing old ! 

Thanks for the years! whose rapid flight 
My sombre muse too aadly slogs; 

Thanks for the gleams of golden light 
That tint the darkness of their winga; 



The light that beams from out the sky, 

Those heavenly mansions to unfold 
Where all are blest, and none may sigh, 
•I'm growing old!* 

— John Godfrky Sazx. 


f AUGH, and the world langhs with you, 

*-' Weep, and you weep alone. 

For the brave old earth must borrow its mirth 

But has trouble enough of its own. 
Sing and the hills will answer, 

Sigh, it is lost on the air; 
The echoes rebound to a jo3rfal sotmd 

And shrink from voicing care. 

Rejoice, and men will seek you. 

Grieve, and they turn and go; 
They want full measure of your pleasure. 

But they do not want your woe. 
Be glad, and your friends are many. 

Be sad, and you lose them all; 
There are none to decline your nectared wine. 

But alone you must drink life's gaU. 

Feast, and your halls are crowded, 

Fast, and the world goes by. 
Forget and forgave — it helps you to live, 

But no man can help you to die; 
There's room in the halls of pleasure 

For a long and lordly train, 
But, one by one, we must all march on 

Through the narrow aisle of pain. 

— Ella Whulbr Wilcox. 



TKiKE is no rest! tbe mills of cbacge 
Griad on — the gods are at tbe wheels! 
The same fierce impulse, swift and stra&ga 
We feel, that every planet feels. 

There is no rest! not even sleep 

Is shorn of its mobility — 
The red bloods through the body smep 

Forever. like a tided sea. 

There is no rest! the granite grinds 
To dust, within its marble glooms; 

Decay's pale worm incessant winds 

Its way thro' fame's emblasoned tombK. 

There is no rest I e'en Love hath wings 

That wearilessly fan the air. 
In his leal-hearted wanderings. 

So fetterless, so free from care. 

There is no rest I the feet of Pain 
Are shod with motion — Pleasure's ey«a 

Pale faster than the sun-kissed rain, 
Swung arching in the mid May skies. 

There is no rest! Religion shakes 

Her stainless robes, and skyward lifts 

Her tremulous white palms, and takes 
Faith's priceless and eternal gifts. 

There ia no rest! the long gray caves 
Of death are rife with force acd heat. 

Nor Fancy pauses till she paves 

The floors of heaven with flying (eot, 

—J. N. Uattbkws. 



WHO, looking backward from his manhood's prime, 
Sees not the spectre of his misspent time? 
And, through the shade 
Of funeral cypress planted thick behind, 
Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind 
From his beloved dead? 

Who bears no trace of passion's evil force? 
Who shuns thy stings. O terrible Remorse? 

Who does not cast 
On the thronged pages of his memory's book, 
At times, a sad and half- reluctant look. 

Regretful of the past? 

Alas! the evil which we fain would shun 
We do, and leave the wished-for good undone; 

Our strength to-day 
Is but to-morrow's weakness, prone to fall; 
Poor, blind, unprofitable servants all 

Are we alway. 

Yet who, thus looking backward o'er his years. 
Feels not his eyelids wet with grateful tears, 

If he hath been 
Permitted, weak and sinful as he was. 
To cheer and aid, in some ennobling cause, 

His fellow men? 

If he hath hidden the outcast, or let in 
A ray of sunshine to the cell of sin; 

If he hath lent 
Strength to the weak, and, in an hour of need. 
Over the suffering, mindless of his creed 

Or home, hath bent. 


He hAft not lived in vain; and while he govern 
The praise to Him, in whom he moves and lives. 

With thankful heart. 
He gases backward, and with hope before. 
Knowing that from his works he nevermore 

Can henceforth part 

—John Grxknlbaf WHimnL 


THEN Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted 
to speak for thyself. Then Paul stretched 
forth the hand, and answered for himself: — 

I think myself happy, king Agrippa, because I 
shall answer for myself this day before thee touch- 
ing all the things whereof I am accused of the Jews* 
especially because I know thee to be expert in all 
customs and questions which are among the Jews: 
wherefore I beseech thee to hear me patiently. 

My manner of life from my youth, which was at 
the first among mine own nation at Jerusalem, 
know all the Jews ; which knew me from the begin- 
ning, if they would testify, that after the most 
straitest sect of our religion I lived a Pharisee. And 
now I stand and am judged for the hope of the 
promise made of Grod unto our fathers : unto which 
promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving God 
day and night, hope to come. For which hope's 
sake, king Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews. 

Why should it be thought a thing incredible with 
70U9 that God should raise the dead? I verily 


thought with mjrself , that I ought to do many things 
contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which 
thing I also did in Jerusalem: and many of the 
saints did I shut up in prison, having received au- 
thority from the chief priests; and when they were 
put to death, I gave my voice against them. And 
I punished them oft in every synagogue, and com- 
pelled them to blaspheme ; and being exceedingly 
mad against them, I persecuted them even unto 
strange cities. Whereupon as I went to Damascus 
with authority and commission from the chief 
priests, at midday, O king, I saw in the way a light 
from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shin- 
ing round about me and them which journeyed with 
me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I 
heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the 
Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou 
me ? it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. 

And I said. Who art thou, Lord? And He said, I 
am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and 
stand upon thy feet: for I have appeared unto thee 
for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a wit- 
ness both of these things which thou hast seen, and 
of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; 
delivering thee from the people, and from the Gen- 
tiles, tmto whom now I send thee, to open their 
eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and 
from the power of Satan unto God, that they may 
receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among 
them which are sanctified by faith that is in me. 

Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobe- 
dient unto the heavenly vision: but showed first 
unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and 

which the prophets and J 
That Christ should suffer, 
first that should rise from 
light unto the people and 

And as be thus spake fa 
a loud voice, Paul, thou 
learning doth make thee i 
mad, most. noble Festos; 
of truth and soberness, 
these things, before whon 
am persuaded that none « 
from him ; for this thing 
King Agrippa, believest tl 
that thou believest. Thei 
Almost thou persuadest it 

And Paul said, I woa 
thou but also all that he: 
almost and altogether su 
bonds. And when he hi 
rose up, and the govemc 
that sat with them : and w 



fj ERE it come sparkling, 

^ And there it lies darkling; 

Here smoking and frothing, 

Its tumult and wrath in. 
It hastens along, conflicting, and strong, 

Now striking and raging, 

As if a war waging. 
Its caverns and rocks among. 

Rising and leaping. 

Sinking and creeping. 

Swelling and flinging. 

Showering and springing. 

Eddying and whisking. 

Spouting and frisking. 

Twining and twisting 
Around and around,-— 

Collecting, disjecting. 
With endless rebound; 

Smiting and fighting, 

A sight to delight in, 

Confounding, astounding, 
Diszying and deafening the ear with its aoond. 

Receding and speeding, 

And shocking and rocking. 

And whizzing and hissing. 

And dripping and skipping, 

And whitening and brightening. 

And quivering and shivering, 

And shining and twining. 

And rattling and battling. 

And shaking and quaking. 

And pouring and roaring, 

And waving and raving. 

And tossing and crossing, 

• A oelebntcd fall on Derwent- Water, in CumberUnd, England. 


And flowing Aod p'owio^ 
And faonyii]^ and tknrrylsifl^. 
And dinning and spinning; 
And foaming and roamiog. 
And dropping and hopping. 
And heaving and cleaving. 

And driving and riving and striving. 

And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling. 

And sounding and bounding and nmnding. 

And babbling and troabling and doubling. 

Dividing and gliding and sliding, 

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling. 

And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, 

And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing. 

And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping. 

And curling and whirling and purling and twirling. 

Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting. 

Delaying and straying and playing and spraying. 

Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing. 

Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling. 

And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; 

And so never ending, but alwa]^ descending. 
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending. 
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar; — 
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 



A MONO the beautiful pictures 
*^ That hang on memory's wall. 
Is one of a dim old forest. 

That seemeth best of all. 
Not for its gnarl'd oaks olden. 

Dark with the mistletoe; 
Not for the violets golden 

That sprinkle the vale below; 


Not for the milk-white lilies 

That lean from the fragrant ledge, 
Coquetting all day with tiie sunbeams. 

And stealing their golden edge; 
Not for the vines on the upland 

Where the bright red berries rest. 
Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip, 

It seemeth to me the best 

I once had a little brother 

With eyes that were dark and deep; 
In the lap of that dim old forest, 

He lieth in peace asleep, 
Light as the down of the thistle. 

Free as the winds that blow. 
We roved there the beautiful summers. 

The summers of long ago; 
But his feet on the hills grew weary. 

And, one of the autumn eves, 
I made for my little brother 

A bed of the yellow leaves. 

Sweetly his pale arms folded 

My neck in a meek embrace. 
As the light of immortal beauty 

Silently oover'd his face; 
And when the arrows of sunset 

Lodged in the tree-tops bright. 
He fell, in his saint-like beauty. 

Asleep by the gates of light 

Therefore, of all the pictures 

That hang on Memory's wall. 
The one of the dim old forest 

Seemeth the best of all 

— Alice Cakt. 



TALENT is something, but tact is eveijtba&{. 
Talent is serious, sober, g^ve, and ittped- 
able: tact is all that, and more, too. It is not a 
sixth sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is 
the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the 
keen smell, and the lively touch; it is the inter- 
preter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, 
the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all 
places and at all times; it is useful in solitude, for 
it shows a man his way into the world; it is useful 
in society, for it shows him his way through the 

Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight, 
tact is momentum; talent knows what to do, tact 
knows how to do it ; talent makes a man respectable, 
tact will make him respected ; talent is wealth, tact 
is ready money. For all the practical purposes of 
life, tact carries it against talent, ten to one. Take 
them to the theatre, and put them against each 
other on the stage, and talent shall produce you a 
tragedy that will scarcely live long enough to be 
condemned, while tact keeps the house in a roar, 
night after night, with its successful farces. There 
is no want of dramatic talent, there is no want of 
dramatic tact; but they are seldom together: so we 
have successful pieces which are not respectable, 
and respectable pieces which are not successful. 

Take them to the bar, and let them shake their 
learned ctu'ls at each other in legal rivalry. Talent 


sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's 
end. Talent has many a compliment from the 
bench, but tact touches fees from attorneys and 
clients. Talent speaks learnedly and logically, tact 
triumphantly. Talent makes the world wonder that 
it gets on no faster, tact excites astonishment that it 
gets on so fast. And the secret is, that tact has no 
weight to carry ; it makes no false steps ; it hits the 
right nail on the head; it loses no time; it takes all 
hints, and, by keeping its eye on the weathercock, 
is ready to take advantage of every wind that blows. 

Take them into the church. Talent has always 
something worth hearing, tact is sure of abundance 
of hearers; talent may obtain a living, tact will 
make one; talent gets a good name, tact a great 
one; talent convinces, tact converts; talent is an 
honor to the profession, tact gains honor from the 
profession. Take them to court. Talent feels its 
weight, tact finds its way ; talent commands, tact is 
obeyed; talent is honored with approbation, and 
tact is blessed by preferment 

Place them in the senate. Talent has the ear of 
the house, but tact wins its heart and has its votes ; 
talent is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. 
Tact has a knack of slipping into place with a sweet 
silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard ball 
insinuates itself into the pocket It seems to know 
everything without learning anything. It has 
served an invisible and extemporary apprentice- 
ship; it wants no drilling; it never ranks in the 
awkward squad ; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no 
blind side. It puts on no looks of wondrous wis- 
dom, it has no air of profundity, but plays with the 


details of place as dexterously as a well-tanj^lit 
hand flouridies over the keys of the piano-forte. It 
has all the air of commonplace^ and all the force 
and power of genius. 

— London Atlas. 




SINK or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give 
my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, 
indeed, that in the beginning we aimed not at inde- 
pendence. But there's a Divinity which shapes our 
ends. The injustice of England has driven us to 
arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good, 
she has obstinately persisted, till independence is 
now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth 
to it, and it is ours. Why then should we defer the 
Declaration ? Is any man so weak as now to hope 
for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave 
either safety to the country and its liberties, or 
safety to his own life and his own honor ? Are not 
you, Sir, who sit in that chair, is not he, our venera- 
ble colleague near you, are you not both already the 
proscribed and predestined objects of punishment 
and of vengeance ? Cut off from all hope of royal 
clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the 
power of England remains, but outlaws? If we 
postpone independence, do we mean to carry on or 


to give up the war ? Do we mean to submit and 
consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, 
and our cotmtry and its rights trodden down in the 
dust? I know we do not mean to submit We 
never shall submit. Do we intend to violate that 
most solemn obligation ever entered into by men, 
that plighting before God of our sacred honor to 
Washingfton when, putting him forth to incur the 
dangers of war as well as the political hazards of the 
times, we promised to adhere to him, in every ex- 
tremity, with our fortunes and our lives ? I know 
there is not a man here who would not rather see a 
general conflagration sweep over the land or an 
earthquake sink it than one jot or tittle of that 
plighted faith fall to the ground. The war, then, 
must go on. We must fight it through. And if the 
war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration 
of Independence ? That measure will strengthen 
us. It will give us character abroad. 

If we fail it can be no worse for us. But we shall 
not fail. The cause will raise up armies; the cause 
will create navies. The people, the people, if we 
are true to them, will carry us, and will carry them- 
selves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not 
how fickle other people have been found. I know 
the people of these colonies, and I know that resist- 
ance to British aggression is deep and settled in 
their hearts and cannot be eradicated. Every 
colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to fol- 
low, if we but take the lead. Sir, the Declaration 
will inspire the people with increased courage. In- 
stead of a long and bloody war for restoration of 
privilegesi for redress of grievances, for chartered 



immtmitieB, beld under a British King, set 1 
them, the glorious object of entire independence,^ 
and it will breathe into them anew the breath oi 1 
life. Read this Declaration at the head of the army;, . 
every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and J 
the solemn tow uttered to maintain it, or to perwl 
ish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpitj' 
religion will approve it, and the love of reHgiousl 
liberty will cling round it, resolved to stand with i 
or fall with it. Send it to the public halls; proclaitttJ 
it there; let them hear :t who heard the first roar o 
the enemy's caanon ; let them see it who saw theix 
brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bnnlcerfl 
HiH, and in the streets of Lexington and Concord,! 
and the very walls will cry out in its support. 

Sir, I know the imcertainty of human affairs, bntfl 
I see, I see clearly, through this day's business. YoaV 
and I indeed may rue it. We may not live to thef 
time when this Declaration shall be made good, I 
We may die; die colonists; die slaves; die, it may I 
be, ignominiously and on the scaffold. 
Be it so. If it be the pleasure of heaven that my I 
countrj- shall require the poor offering of my life, J 
the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of I 
sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while 1 1 
do live, let me have a country, or at least the hopafl 
of a country, and that a free country. 

But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be as* I 
sured, that this Declaration will stand. It may cost 1 
treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will standi 
and it will richly compensate for both. Through i 
the thick gloom of the present I see the brightnej 
of the future as the sun in heaven. We shall i 


this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in 
our graves our children will honor it They will 
celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with 
bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return 
they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of 
subjection and slavery, not of agony an4 distress, 
but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, be- 
fore God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment 
approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. 
All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope 
in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; 
and I leave off, as I begun, that, live or die, survive 
or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living 
sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be 
my dying sentiment — independence now; and 



THEN shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto 
ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went 
forth to meet the bridegroom. 

And five of them were wise, and five were fool- 

They that were foolish took their lamps, and took 
no oil with them. 

But the wise took oil in their vessels with their 

While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered 
and slept 




DC not enough for us an 
them that sell, and buy f 

And while they went 
came; and they that we 
to the marriage : and the 

Afterward came also 
Lord, Lord, open to us. 

But he answered and s; 
I know you not. 

Watch therefore, for ye 
the hour wherein the Son 

For the kingdom of hes 
into a far country, who caj 
delivered unto them his gc 

And unto one he gave fi 
and to another one ; to ev< 
several ability; and straigt 

Then he that had recer 
and traded with the sam 
five talents. 

And likewise he that 1 


And 80 he that had received five talents came and 
brought other five talents, saying, Lord, thou de- 
liveredst unto me five talents: behold I have gained 
beside them five talents more. 

His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and 
faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over a few 
things, I will make thee ruler over many things: 
enter thou into the joy of thy lord. 

He also that had received two talents came and 
said, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me two talents: be- 
hold I have gained two other talents beside them. 

His lord said unto him. Well done, good and faith- 
ful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few 
things, I will make thee ruler over many things: 
enter thou into the joy of thy lord. 

Then he which had received the one talent came 
and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art an hard 
man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and gath- 
ering where thou hast not strewed : 

And I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in 
the earth : lo, there thou hast that is thine. 

His lord answered and said unto him. Thou wicked 
and slothful servant, thou knewest that I reap where 
I sowed not, and gather where I have not strewed : 

Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money 
to the exchangers, and then at my coming I should 
have received mine own with usury. 

Take therefore the talent from him, and give it 
unto him which hath ten talents. 

For unto every one that hath shall be given, and 
he shall have abundance: but from him that hath 
not shall be taken away even that which he hath. 

And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer 


darkness: there shall be weeping; and gnashing 
of teeth. 

When the Son of man shall come in His glory, 
and all the holy angels with Him, then shall He sit 
upon the throne of His glory: 

And before Him shall be gathered all nations: 
and He shall separate them one from another, as a 
shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats: 

And He shall set the sheep on His right hand, 
but the goats on the left. 

Then shall the King say unto them on His right 
hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the 
kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 
the world: 

For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I 
was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger 
and ye took me in : 

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye 
visited me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me. 

Then shall the righteous answer Him, saying, 
Lord, when saw we Thee an hungered, and fed 
Thee? or thirsty, and gave Thee drink? 

When saw we Thee a stranger, and took Thee in? 
or naked, and clothed Thee> 

Or when saw we Thee sick, or in prison, and 
came unto Thee? 

And the King shall answer and say unto them, 
Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have 
done it unto me. 

Then shall He say also unto them on the left 
hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting 
fire, prepared for the devil and his angels : 


For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: 
I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: 

I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked 
and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye 
visited me not 

Then shall they also answer Him, saying. Lord, 
when saw we The.e an hungered, or athirst, or a 
stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not 
minister unto Thee? 

Then shall He answer them, saying. Verily I say 
unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the 
least of these, ye did it not to me. 

And these shall go away into everlasting punish- 
ment: but the righteous into life eternal. 


HE HAD now entered the skirts of the village. A 
troop of strange children ran at his heels, hoot- 
ing after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The 
dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an 
old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The 
very village was altered, it was larger and more 
populous. There were rows of houses which he 
had never seen before, and those which had been his 
familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names 
were over the doors — stranger faces at the windows 
— everything was strange. His mind now misgave 
him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the 
world around him were not bewitched. Surely this 


was his native village, which he had left but the 
day before. There stood the Catskill monntains 

— there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — there 
was every hill and dale precisely as it had always 
been — Rip was sorely perplexed — •That flagon 
last night,* thought he, *has addled my poor head 
sadly I ^ 

It was with some diflSculty that he found the way 
to his own house, which he approached with silent 
awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill 
voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house 
gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows 
shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half- 
starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking 
about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur 
snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was 
an unkind cut indeed — • My very dog, • sighed poor 
Rip, * has forgotten mc ! • 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, 
Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. 
It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. 
This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears 

— he called loudly for his wife and children — the 
lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, 
and then all again was silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old 
resort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A 
large, rickety wooden building stood in its place, 
with great gaping windows, some of them broken 
and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over 
the door was painted, ^ The Union Hotel, by Jona- 
than Doolittle.* Instead of the great tree that used 
: the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there 


now was reared a tall, naked pole, with something 
on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from 
it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular as- 
semblage of stars and stripes — all this was strange 
and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, 
however, the ruby face of King George, under 
which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe; but 
even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red 
coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword 
was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head 
was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was 
painted in large characters, • General Washington. • 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the 
door, but none that Rip recollected. The very 
character of the people seemed changed. There 
was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, in- 
stead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tran- 
quillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas 
Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair 
long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead 
of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the schoolmas- 
ter, doling forth the contents of an ancient news- 
paper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking 
fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was ha- 
ranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elec- 
tions — members of Congress — liberty — Bunker's 
Hill — heroes of Seventy-Six — and other words, 
which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the be- 
wildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled 
beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth di 
and an army of women and children at his 
soon attracted UMjf^&tion of the tavern polil 



They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to 
foot with great curiosity. The orator bnstled up to 
him, and drawing him partly aside, inquired ^on 
which side he voted ? * Rip stared in vacant stupid- 
ity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled 
him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in 
his ear, * whether he was Federal or Democrat ? * 
Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the ques- 
tion; when a knowing, self-important old gentle- 
man, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through 
the crowd, putting them to the right and left with 
his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before 
Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other rest- 
ing on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat pene- 
trating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded, in 
an austere tone, what brought him to the election 
with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, 
and whether he meant to breed a riot in the vil- 

*Alas! gentlemen,* cried Rip, somewhat dis- 
mayed, *I am a poor, quiet man, a native of the 
place and a loyal subject of the King-, God bless 

Here a general shout burst from the by-standers 
— •A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! 
away with him!* It was with great difficulty that 
the self-important man in the cocked hat restored 
order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of 
brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what 
he came there for, and whom he was seeking ? The 
poor man humbly assured him that he meant no 
harm, but merely came there in search of some of 
his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. 


•Well, who are they? Name them.* Rip be- 
thought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's 
Nicholas Vedder i " There was a silence for a little 
while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping 
voice, ' Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and gone 
these eighteen years! There was a wooden tomb- 
stone in the churchyard that used to tell all about 
him, but that's rotten and gone too. * 

* Where's Brom Dutcher t * 

* Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of 
the war; some say he was killed at the storming of. 
Stony Point — others say he was drowned in a squall 
at the foot of Anton3r's Nose. I don't know — he 
never came back again.* 

"Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?* 

* He went off to the wars, too, was a great militia 
general, and is now in Congress.* 

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad 
changes in his home and friends, and finding him- 
self dius alone in the world. Every answer puz- 
zled him too, by treating of such enormons lapses 
of time, and of matters which he could not nader- 
stand: war — Congress — Stony Point; — he had no 
courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out 
in despair, * Does nobody here know Rip Van Win- 
kle ? » • Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! * exclaimed two or 
three; * Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle yon- 
der, leaning against the tree. * 

Rip looked, and beheld a precise connterpart of 
himself, as he went up the mountain : apparently as 
lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was 
now completely confounded. He doubbHL.^ °^"^ 



identity, and whether he was himself or another 
man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man 
in the cocked hat demanded who be was, and what 
was his name ? 

" God knows," exclaimed he, at his wifs end; ■ I 
am not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me 
yonder — no — that's somebody else got into my 
shoes — I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on 
the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and 
everything's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't 
tell what's my name, or who I am! ' 

The by-standers began now to look at each other, 
nod. wink significantly, and tap their fingers against 
their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about 
securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from 
doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which 
the self-important man in the cocked hat retired 
with some precipitation. At this critical moment a 
fresh, comely woman pressed through the throng to 
get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a 
chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his 
looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip," cried she, 
"hush, you little fool; the old man won't hurt you.* 
The name of the child, the air of the mother, the 
tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollec- 
tions in his mind. "What is your name, my good 
woman ? " asked he. 

"Judith Gardenier.* 

"And your father's name?* 

"Ah! poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, 
but it's twenty years since he went away from home 
with his gun, and never has been heard of since — 


his dog came home without him ; but whether he 
shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, 
nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl. • 

Rip had but one more question to ask; but he put 
it with a faltering voice : — 

• Where's your mother ? • 

^ Oh, she too had died but a short time since; she 
broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New 
England peddler. • 

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this in- 
telligence. The honest man could contain himself 
no longer. He caught his daughter and her child 
in his arms. •! am your father i* cried he — 
•young Rip Van Winkle once — old Rip Van Win- 
kle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Win- 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering 
out from among the crowd, put her hand to her 
brow, and peering imder it in his face for a mo- 
ment, exclaimed, • Sure enough ! it is Rip Van 
Winkle — it is himself! Welcome home again, old 
neighbor. Why, where have you been these twenty 
long years ? * 

— Washington iRviNa 



^IJSA r — ■- -'T' 




Lewis, G.A. 14S23r 

The praotioal treat- t_ 
fflent of stameriiig - i_ 

"A^ Lewis. AnduUie k 
cultivation of the ~ 

Toioe :; Ty synsou.