Recitations for the Social Circle Part 11

A DREAM OF THE UNIVERSE.

BY JEAN PAUL RICHTER.

Into the great vestibule of heaven, G.o.d called up a man from dreams, saying, "Come thou hither, and see the glory of my house." And, to the servants that stood around His throne, He said, "Take him, and undress him from his robes of flesh; cleanse his vision, and put a new breath into his nostrils; only touch not with any change his human heart,--the heart that weeps and trembles."

It was done; and, with a mighty angel for his guide, the man stood ready for his infinite voyage; and from the terraces of heaven, without sound or farewell, at once they wheeled away into endless s.p.a.ce. Sometimes, with solemn flight of angel wings, they fled through Saharas of darkness,--through wildernesses of death, that divided the world of life; sometimes they swept over frontiers that were quickening under the prophetic motions from G.o.d.

Then, from a distance that is counted only in heaven, light dawned for a time through a sleepy film; by unutterable pace the light swept to them; they by unutterable pace to the light. In a moment, the rus.h.i.+ng of planets was upon them; in a moment, the blazing of suns was around them.

Then came eternities of twilight, that revealed, but were not revealed. On the right hand and on the left, towered mighty constellations, that by self-repet.i.tion and answers from afar, that by counter-positions, built up triumphal gates, whose architraves, whose archways--horizontal, upright--rested, rose--at alt.i.tudes by spans that seemed ghostly from infinitude. Without measure were the architraves, past number were the archways, beyond memory the gates.

Within were stairs that scaled the eternities below; above was below,--below was above, to the man stripped of gravitating body; depth was swallowed up in height insurmountable; height was swallowed up in depth unfathomable. Suddenly, as thus they rode from infinite to infinite; suddenly, as thus they tilted over abysmal worlds, a mighty cry arose that systems more mysterious, that worlds more billowy, other heights and other depths, were coming--were nearing--were at hand.

Then the man sighed, and stopped, and shuddered, and wept. His overladen heart uttered itself in tears; and he said, "Angel, I will go no farther; for the spirit of man acheth with this infinity. Insufferable is the glory of G.o.d. Let me lie down in the grave, and hide me from the persecutions of the Infinite; for end, I see, there is none."

And from all the listening stars that shone around, issued a choral cry, "The man speaks truly; end there is none that ever yet we heard of." "End is there none?" the angel solemnly demanded: "Is there indeed no end, and is this the sorrow that kills you?" But no voice answered that he might answer himself. Then the angel threw up his glorious hands toward the heaven of heavens, saying, "End is there none to the universe of G.o.d! Lo, also there is no beginning!"

KEENAN'S CHARGE.

BY GEORGE P. LATHROP.

(_Chancellorsville, May, 1863._)

The sun had set; The leaves with dew were wet; Down fell a b.l.o.o.d.y dusk On the woods, that second of May, Where Stonewall's corps, like a beast of prey, Tore through, with angry tusk.

"They've trapped us, boys!"-- Rose from our flank a voice.

With a rush of steel and smoke On came the Rebels straight, Eager as love and wild as hate: And our line reeled and broke; Broke and fled.

No one staid--but the dead!

With curses, shrieks and cries, Horses and wagons and men Tumbled back through the shuddering glen, And above us the fading skies.

There's one hope, still,-- Those batteries parked on the hill!

"Battery, wheel!" (mid the roar) "Pa.s.s pieces; fix prolonge to fire Retiring. Trot!" In the panic dire A bugle rings "Trot"--and no more.

The horses plunged, The cannon lurched and lunged, To join the hopeless rout.

But suddenly rode a form Calmly in front of the human storm, With a stern, commanding shout:

"Align those guns!"

(We knew it was Pleasonton's) The cannoneers bent to obey, And worked with a will, at his word: And the black guns moved as if _they_ had heard.

But ah, the dread delay!

"To wait is crime; O G.o.d, for ten minutes' time!"

The general looked around.

There Keenan sat, like a stone, With his three hundred horse alone-- Less shaken than the ground.

"Major, your men?"

"Are soldiers, General." "Then, Charge, Major! Do your best: Hold the enemy back, at all cost, Till my guns are placed;--else the army is lost.

You die to save the rest!"

By the shrouded gleam of the western skies, Brave Keenan looked in Pleasonton's eyes For an instant,--clear, and cool, and still; Then, with a smile, he said: "I will."

"Cavalry, charge!" Not a man of them shrank.

Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank, Rose joyously, with a willing breath, Rose like a greeting hail to death.

Then forward they sprang, and spurred and clashed; Shouted the officers, crimson-sashed; Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow, In their faded coats of the blue and yellow; And above in the air with an instinct true, Like a bird of war their pennon flew.

With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds, And blades that s.h.i.+ne like sunlit reeds, And strong brown faces bravely pale For fear their proud attempt shall fail, Three hundred Pennsylvanians close On twice ten thousand gallant foes.

Line after line the troopers came To the edge of the wood that was ringed with flame; Rode in and sabered and shot--and fell; Nor came one back his wounds to tell.

And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his fall, While the circle-stroke of his saber, swung Round his head like a halo there, luminous hung.

Line after line, ay, whole platoons, Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons By the maddened horses were onward borne And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn; As Keenan fought with his men, side by side.

So they rode, till there were no more to ride.

But over them, lying there, shattered and mute, What deep echo rolls?--'Tis a death-salute From the cannon in place; for heroes, you braved Your fate not in vain: the army was saved!

Over them now,--year following year, Over their graves the pine-cones fall, And the whip-poor-will chants his spectre-call; But they stir not again; they raise no cheer: They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease, Nor their light be quenched in the light of peace.

The rush of their charge is resounding still That saved the army at Chancellorsville.

USEFUL PRECEPTS FOR GIRLS.

First catch your lover.

Hold him when you have him.

Don't let go of him to catch every new one that comes along.

Try to get very well acquainted with him before you take him for life.

Unless you intend to support him, find out whether he earns enough to support you.

Don't make up your mind he is an angel. Don't palm yourself off on him for one either.

Don't let him spend his salary on you; that right should be reserved until after marriage.

If you have any conscientious scruples about marrying a man with a mother, say so in time that he may either get rid of her to oblige you, or get rid of you to oblige her, as he thinks best.

If you object to secret societies and tobacco, it is better to come with your objections now than to reserve them for curtain lectures hereafter.

If your adorer happens to fancy a certain shade of hair, don't color bleach yours to oblige him. Remember your hair belongs to you and he doesn't.