3. LITTLE FEET. fūt'ūre (füt'yur), time to come. be trāyed', misled; given into the hands of an enemy by fraud. maz'eş, confusing places. am bi'tion (bísh ́ŭn), desire for de lūd'ed, led into error. Two little feet, so small that both may nestle Two tender feet upon the untried border Of life's mysterious land. Dimpled, and soft, and pink as peach-tree blossoms How can they walk among the briery tangles, Those white-rose feet, along the doubtful future, Alas! since woman has the heaviest burden, Love for a while will make the path before them Will cull away the brambles, letting only The roses blossom there. But when the mother's watchful eyes are shrouded Away from sight of men, And these dear feet are left without her guiding, How will they be allured, betrayed, deluded- Into what dreary mazes will they wander? Will they go stumbling blindly in the darkness Or find the upland slopes of peace and beauty, Will they go stumbling up ambition's summit, Or in some nameless vale, securely sheltered, Some feet there be which walk life's track unwounded, Which find but pleasant ways; Some hearts there be, to which this life is only A round of happy days. But they are few. Far more there are who wander Who find their journey full of pains and losses, How shall it be with her, the tender stranger, Before whose unstained feet the world's rude high way Stretches so strange and wide? Ah, who may read the future? For our darling And pray that He who feeds the crying ravens, FLORENCE PERCY. Biography.-Florence Percy (Mrs. Elizabeth Akers Allen) was born in 1832, in the town of Strong, Maine. At an early age, the death of her mother cast a gloom over her young life. The effects of her bereavement may be noticed in an undertone of sadness throughout her writings. Mrs. Allen's career as a writer began at a very early age, with the publication of some verses. The enviable popularity to which she has attained, is due to a tenderness and grace of style,, which loses none of its charm even in the treatment of homely subjects. Elocution. What is the feeling or sentiment expressed in this poem? With what tone of voice should it be read? What time and force should be used? The articulation should be clear and crisp. Point out three or four cases in the poem where certain words receive emphasis through repetition. Show the changes in inflection due to contrasts in the fourth stanza. Language. Explain the meaning of the following— "The untried borders of life's mysterious land." "The mother's eyes are shrouded away from sight of men." Composition.-Make each stanza the basis of a paragraph, and treat the subject in prose form. Notice the changes that must be made in turning the poetry into prose:-(1.) In the words used. (2.) The arrangement of words in the sentences. 4. MALIBRAN AND THE YOUNG MUSICIAN. pub'lish er, one who sends a book or writing into the world. erown, a piece of money, in value a little more than $1.20. lux'ū ry (lŭk'shụ rỹ), any thing delightful to the senses. riv'et ed, fixed. myr'i ad, a very great number. poundş, English money; each tǎl'ent ed, possessing great skill sta'tion, condition of life. deigned (dand), condescended. In a humble room, in one of the poorest streets of London, little Pierre, a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother. There was no bread in the closet, and for the whole day he had not tasted food. Yet he sat humming to keep up his spirits. Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew nothing would be so grateful to his poor, sick mother as a good, sweet orange-and yet he had not a penny in the world. The little song he was singing was his own,one he had composed with air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and looking out, saw a man putting up a great bill with yellow letters, announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public. "If I could only go," thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a moment, he clasped his hands. His eyes lighted with a new hope. Running to the little stand, he smoothed down his yellow curls, and taking from a little box some old stained paper, gave one eager glance at his mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house. "Who did you say is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I am already worn out with company." "It is only a very pretty little boy with yellow curls, who says if he can see you he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep you a moment." "Well, let him come," said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I can never refuse children." Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm, and in his hand a little roll of paper. With manliness unusual for a child, he walked straight to the lady, and bowing, said: "I come to see you because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I thought that if you would only sing my little song at some of your grand concerts, perhaps some publisher would buy it for a small sum, and so I could get food and medicine for my mother." The beautiful woman rose from her seat,-very tall and stately she was,-took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the air. "Did you compose it?" she asked,-"you, a child? And the words?-Would you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of thought. "O yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness,-"but I couldn't leave my mother." "I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here is also one of my tickets; come to-night; that will admit you to a seat near me." Pierre could scarcely realize his good fortune. He bought some oranges, and many a little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid, telling her, not without tears, of what had happened. When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert-hall, he felt that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the myriad lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and rustling of silks, bewildered his eyes and brain. At last she came, and the child sat with his eyes riveted upon her glorious face. Could he believe that the grand lady, all blazing with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship, would really sing his little song? |