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The greatest triumphs sprung from force will stain the brightest cause:

'Tis not in blood that Liberty inscribes her civil laws.

She writes them on the people's heart in language clear and plain :

True thoughts have moved the world before, and so they shall again.

We yield to none in earnest love of Freedom's cause sublime;
We join the cry "Fraternity!" we keep the march of Time,
And yet we grasp not pike nor spear, our victories to obtain;
We've won without their aid before,—and so we shall again.

We want no aid of barricade to show a front to Wrong;
We have a citadel in Truth, more durable and strong.
Calm words, great thoughts, unflinching faith, have never
striv'n in vain;

They've won our battles many a time, and so they shall again.

Peace, Progress, Knowledge, Brotherhood—the ignorant may sneer,

The bad deny but we rely to see their triumph near.

No widows' groans shall load our cause, nor blood of brethren


We've won without such aid before, and so we shall again.

Brutus's Speech in the Forum.


Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have respect for mine honour, that you may believe; censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any

him I say that Brutus' love to If then that friend demand why

dear friend of Cæsar's, to Cæsar was no less than his. Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you

rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death..

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart, that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. -Julius Cæsar, iii., 2.


(See Tone Drill No. 106.)

[The tone of Gayety manifests sprightliness, abandon, fun. It is closely allied to Geniality and Joy.]



I say nothing against amusement. Persons of your temperament and mine could hardly live without it. I have noticed that a child who has no vivacity of spirit, in after life produces no fruitfulness of moral character. A tree that has no blossoms in the spring will have no apples in the fall.

The sky is clear. The
The club put off their

A good game at ball is great sport. ground is just right for fast running. coats and put on their caps. The ball is round and hard and stuffed with illimitable bounce. Get ready the bats and take your positions. Now, give us the ball. Too low? Don't strike. Too high? Don't strike. There it comes like lightning. Strike! Away it soars, higher, higher. Run! Another base. Faster. Faster. Good! All around at one stroke. All hail to the man or the big boy who invented ball playing.

After tea, open the checker board. Now look out, or your boy Bob will beat you. With what masterly skill he moves up his men. Look out now or he will jump you. Sure enough, two of your men gone and a king for Bob. With what cruel pleasure he sweeps the board. What! Only two more men left? Be careful now. Only one more move possible. Cornered sure as fate! And Bob bends over, and looks you in the face with a most provoking banter, and says, "Pop, why don't you move?"

Call up the dogs, Tray, Blanchard, and Sweetheart. A

good day for hunting. Get down, Tray, with your dirty feet! Put on powder flask and shoulder the gun. Over the hill and through the wood. Boys, don't make such a racket; you'll scare the game. There's a rabbit! Squat. Take good aim. Bang! Missed him. Yonder he goes. Sic 'em, sic 'em! See the fur fly. Got him at last. Here, Tray! Here, Tray!

John, get up the bays. All ready. See how the buckles glisten and the horses prance, and the spokes flash in the sun. Now, open the gate. Away we go. Let the gravel fly, and the tires rattle over the pavement, and the horses' hoofs clatter and ring. Good roads, and let them fly. Crack the whip! G'long! Nimble horses with smooth roads, in a pleasant day, and no toll-gate-clatter, clatter, clatter.

I never see a man go out with a fishing rod to sport but I silently say: "May you have a good time, and the right kind of bait, and a basketful of catfish and flounders." I never see a party taking a pleasant ride but I wish them a joyous round, and say: "May the horse not cast a shoe, nor the trace break, and may the horse's thirst not compel them to stop at too many taverns." In a world where God lets His lambs frisk, and His trees toss, and His brooks leap, and His stars twinkle, and His flowers make love to each other, I know He intended men at times to laugh and sing and sport.

Jaques on the Fool


A fool, a fool!I met a fool i' the forest,

A motley fool; (a miserable world!)

As I do live by food, I met a fool,

Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
"Good-morrow, fool," quoth I; "No, sir," quoth he,

"Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune."
And then he drew a dial from his poke,

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags:
"Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,

And after one hour more 't will be eleven,
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.-O, noble fool!

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

-As You Like It, ii., 7.


(See Tone Drill No. 121.)

[The tone of Interrogation indicates that the speaker desires something answered. The interrogation sign does not always imply the tone of Interrogation. Frequently this sign demands the tone of Assertion. The distinction will be seen in the selections that follow. Interrogation is usually found with some other tone, notably with Amazement and Indignation.]

English Treatment of Ireland.


We preach to our congregations, sir, that a tree is known by its fruits. By the fruits it produces I will judge your system. What has it done for Ireland? Has your system of exclusion made Ireland rich? Has it made Ireland loyal? Has it made Ireland free? Has it made Ireland happy? How is

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