Recitations for the Social Circle Part 17

The response came feebly this time, "Ay, ay, sir!"

"Can you hold on five minutes longer, John?" he said.

"By G.o.d's help, I will!"

The old man's hair was scorched from the scalp; one hand was disabled; his knee upon the stanchion, his teeth set, his other hand upon the wheel, he stood firm as a rock. He beached the s.h.i.+p; every man, woman, and child was saved, as John Maynard dropped, and his spirit took its flight to G.o.d.

THE FATAL GLa.s.s.

BY LAURA U. CASE.

He raised the cup to his pure, sweet lips-- Lips fresh from a mother's kisses; Merry the banquet hall that night, For youth and beauty were there, and bright The glittering lamps shone o'er them; And one had sung with a voice divine, A song in praise of the ruby wine, That graced the feast before them.

Little he dreamed as he lightly quaffed The sparkling wine, that the first rare draught Was a link in the chain to bind him, And drag his soul, like a servile slave, Down slippery steps to a shameful grave, From a throne where love enshrined him.

She raised the cup to her tainted lips-- Lips foul with the vilest curses-- In a loathsome haunt of sin and shame, Where Christian charity seldom came, With its holy words to teach them Of the pastures green and waters sweet-- Of her who wept at the Master's feet, Whose boundless love could reach them.

Is love so dear, and life so cheap, That one poor soul, like a wandering sheep, Alone on the bleak, cold mountain, Should gladly turn from a life accursed, To drown the past and quench the thirst In draughts from a poisonous fountain?

He raised the cup to his trembling lips-- Lips wrinkled by age and hunger; The meagre pittance he'd begged for food, Brightened the palm of the man who stood At his bar with his wines around him.

He drank, and turned on tottering feet To the bitter storm and the cold, dark street, Where a corpse in the morn they found him.

And oh! could those speechless lips have told Of the want and sorrow, hunger and cold He had known, or the answer given, When his trembling soul for entrance plead At the crystal gates, where One has said, "No drunkard shall enter Heaven!"

KATRINA'S VISIT TO NEW YORK.

Vell, von morning I says to Hans (Hans vos mein husband): "Hans, I tinks I goes down to New York, und see some sights in dot village."

Und Hans he say: "Vell Katrina, you vork hard pooty mooch, I tinks it vould petter be dot you goes und rest yourself some." So I gets meinself ready righd avay quick und in two days I vos de shteam cars on vistling avay for New York. Ve vent so fast I tinks mein head vould shplit sometimes. De poles for dot delegraph vires goes by like dey vos mad und running a races demselves mit to see vich could go de fastest mit de oder. De engine vistled like sometimes it vos hurt bad, und screeched mit de pain, und de horses by dem fields vould run as dey vas scared.

I vas pooty mooch as ten hours ven ve rushed into some houses so big enough as all our village, und de cars begin to shtop vith so many leetle jerks I d.i.n.ks me I shall lose all de dinner vot I eat vile I vas coming all de vay apoudt.

Vell, ven dem cars got shtopped, de peoples all got oudt und I picked mein traps oup und got oudt too. I had shust shtepped de blatform on, ven so mooch as ein hundert men, mit vips in dere hands, und dere fingers all in de air oup, asked me all at vonce, "Vere I go?" Und every one of dem fellers vanted me to go mit him to his hotel. But I tells em I guess not; I vas going mit my brudder-mit-law, vot keeps ein pakeshop on de Powery, vere it didn't cost me notings. So I got me in dot shtreet cars, und pays de man mit bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on his coat to let me oudt mit de shtreet vere dot Yawcup Schneider leeves. Oh, my! vot lots of houses! De shtreets vos all ofer filled mit dem. Und so many peoples I tinks me dere must be a fire, or a barade, or some oxcitement vot gets de whole city in von blaces. It dakes me so mooch time to look at everytings I forgot me ven to got oudt und rides apast de blaces I vants to shtop to, und has to valk again pack mit dree or four shquares. But I vind me dot brudder-mit-law who vos make me so velcome as nefer vos.

Vell, dot vos Sat.u.r.day mit de afternoon. I vas tired mit dot day's travel und I goes me pooty quick to bed und ven I vakes in de morning de sun vas high oup in de shky. But I gets me oup und puts on mein new silk vrock und tinks me I shall go to some fine churches und hear ein grosse breacher. Der pells vas ringing so schveet I d.i.n.ks I nefer pefore hear such music. Ven I got de shtreet on de beoples vos all going quiet und nice to dere blaces mit wors.h.i.+p, und I makes oup my mind to go in von of dem churches so soon as von comes along. Pooty soon I comes to de von mit ein shteeples high oup in de shky und I goes in mit de beoples und sits me down on ein seat all covered mit a leetle mattress. De big organ vas blaying so soft it seemed likes as if some angels must be dere to make dot music.

Pooty soon de breacher man shtood in de bulbit oup und read de hymn oudt, und all de beoples sing until de churches vos filled mit de shweetness.

Den de breacher man pray, und read de Pible, und den he say dot de bulbit would be occupied by de Rev. Villiam R. Shtover mit Leavenworth, Kansas.

Den dot man gommence to breach und he read mit his dext, "Und Simon's vife's mudder lay sick mit a fever." He talks for so mooch as ein half hour already ven de beoples sings again und goes homes. I tells mein brudder-mit-law it vos so nice I tinks me I goes again mit some oder churches. So vot you tinks? I goes mit anoder churches dot afternoon und dot same Villiam R. Shtover vos dere und breach dot same sermon ofer again mit dot same dext, "Und Simon's vife's mudder lay sick mit a fever." I tinks to my ownself--dot vos too bad, und I goes home und dells Yawcup, und he says, "Nefer mind, Katrina, to-night ve goes somevhere else to churches." So ven de night vas come und de lamps vos all lighted mit de shtreets, me und mein brudder-mit-law, ve goes over to dot Brooklyn town to hear dot Heinrich Vard Peecher.

My but dot vos ein grosse church, und so many beobles vas dere, ve vas crowded mit de vall back. Ven de singing vas all done, a man vot vos sitting mit a leetle chair got oup und say dot de Rev. Heinrich Vard Peecher vas to de Vhite Mountains gone mit dot hay fever, but dot de bulbit vould be occupied on this occasion by de Rev. Villiam R. Shtover mit Leavenworth, Kansas. Und dot Villiam R. Shtover he gots mit dot bulbit oup und breaches dot same sermon mit dot same dext, "Und Simon's vife's mudder lay sick mit a fever."

Dot vos too bad again und I gets mad. I vos so mad I vish dot he got dot fever himself.

Vell, von dot man vas troo Yawcup says to me, "Come, Katrina, ve'll go down to dot ferry und take de boat vot goes to New York!" Ven ve vas on dot boat de fog vas so tick dot you couldn't see your hands pehind your pack. De vistles vas plowing, und dem pells vos ringing, und von man shtepped up mit Yawcup und say "Vot vor dem pells pe ringing so mooch?"

Und ven I looked around dere shtood dot Villiam R. Shtover mit Leavenworth, Kansas--und I said pooty quick: "Vot vor dem pells vas ringing? Vy for Simon's vife's mudder, vot must be died, for I hear dree times to-day already dot she vas sick mit ein fever."

THE RABBI AND THE PRINCE.

BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.

_Versified from the Talmud._

A monarch sat in serious thought, alone, But little reck'd he of his robe and throne; Naught valuing the glory of control, He sought to solve the future of his soul.

"Why should I bow the proud, imperious knee, To mighty powers no mortal eye can see?"

So mused he long and turned this question o'er, Then, with impatient tread, he paced the floor, Till maddened by conflicting trains of thought And speculation vague, which came to naught, With feverish haste he clutched a ta.s.seled cord As desperate hands, in battle, clutch a sword.

"Summon Jehoshua," the monarch cried.

The white-haired Rabbi soon was at his side.

"I bow no more to powers I cannot see; Thy faith and learning shall be naught to me, Unless, before the setting of the sun, Mine eyes behold the uncreated one."

The Rabbi led him to the open air.

The oriental sun with furious glare Sent down its rays, like beams of molten gold.

The aged teacher, pointing, said: "Behold."

"I cannot," said the Prince, "my dazzled eyes Refuse their service, turned upon the skies."

"Son of the dust," the Rabbi gently said And bowed, with reverence, his h.o.a.ry head, "This one creation, thou canst not behold, Though by thy lofty state and pride made bold.

How canst thou then behold the G.o.d of Light, Before whose face the sunbeams are as night?

Thine eyes before this trifling labor fall, Canst gaze on him who hath created all?

Son of the dust, repentance can atone; Return and wors.h.i.+p G.o.d, who rules alone."

THE MAID OF ORLEANS.

BY J. E. SAGEBEER.

It was just at the dawn of day, when the first rays of morning were breaking over Europe and dispelling the darkness of the Middle Ages. France and England were engaged in a desperate struggle, the one for existence, the other for a throne. All the western part of France had avowed the English cause, and the English king had been proclaimed at Paris, at Rouen and at Bordeaux, while the strongly fortified city of Orleans, the key to the French possessions, was besieged. The thunder and lightning of the battlefield are bad enough, but the starvation and pestilence of a besieged city are infinitely worse. The supplies of Orleans were exhausted; the garrison was reduced to a few desperate men, and the women and children had been abandoned to the English. But far away on the border of Germany, in the little village of Domremy, the Nazareth of France, G.o.d was raising up a deliverer for Orleans, a savior for the nation.