Reading Help Adventures of Tom Sawyer Ch.XVI-XXXV
Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what `
` shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she `
` stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something `
` that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, `
` hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom `
` stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: `
` "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! `
` What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and `
` chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this `
` little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so `
` mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll `
` answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then `
` t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any `
` telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll `
` get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because `
` there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then `
` added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her `
` sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few `
` moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong `
` interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the `
` room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity `
` her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation `
` that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was `
` made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after `
` that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in `
` the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by `
` denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The `
` denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be `
` glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she `
` was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up `
` and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep `
` still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture `
` sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and `
` went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible `
` that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some `
` skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, `
` and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master `
` sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, `
` Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and `
` reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. `
` Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that `
` watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently `
` for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom `
` shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she `
` did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. `
` Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of `
` the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would `
` run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution `
` shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the `
` volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was `
` no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. `
` Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the `
` innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master `
` was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a `
` sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master `
` searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear `
` this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. `
` Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these `
` proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then `
` turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The `
` same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was `
` Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense `
` of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her `
` face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her `
` hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning `
` through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school `
` stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather `
` his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment `
` the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor `
` Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the `
` splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying `
` that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with `
` indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school `
` should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his `
` captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to `
` bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and `
` repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even `
` the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he `
` fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- `
` "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The `
` schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he `
` wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his `
` ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the `
` biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. `
` Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under `
` his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and `
` there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all `
` the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive `
` pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the `
` smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in `
` plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. `
` But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful `
` success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the `
` field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that `
` promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the `
` scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the `
` master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate `
` him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and `
` there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared `
` himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the `
` sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition `
` on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his `
` chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to `
` school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in `
` the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths `
` and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair `
` upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking `
` tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of `
` him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the `
` pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary `
` platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the `
` exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an `
` intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and `
` young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare `
` arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon `
` and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with `
` non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and `
` sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on `
` the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic `
` gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle `
` out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine `
` round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little `
` shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a `
` compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and `
` happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the `
` unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with `
` fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A `
` ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to `
` choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's `
` silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and `
` this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly `
` defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy `
` Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other `
` declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The `
` meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in `
` order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn `
` stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her `
` manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored `
` attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had `
` been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their `
` grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back `
` to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in `
` History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political `
` Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart `
` Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed `
` and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine `
` language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized `
` words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that `
` conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon `
` that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No `
` matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it `
` into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate `
` with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient `
` to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not `
` sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. `
` There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged `
` to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of `
` the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the `
` longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is `
` unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was `
` read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an `
` extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions `
` does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! `
` Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the `
` voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the `
` observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is `
` whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step `
` is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides `
` by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of `
` which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to `
` her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after `
` a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the `
` flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the `
` ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she `
` turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the `
` longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of `
` gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered `
` ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the `
` thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was `
` enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the `
` "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." `
` Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, `
` good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, `
` sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my `
` brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near `
` Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on `
` Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor `
` blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must `
` part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine `
` within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold `
` must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on `
` thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was `
` very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, `
` black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic `
` expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and `
` tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; `
` but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; `
` whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy `
` chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the `
` illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from `
` their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the `
`
` shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she `
` stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something `
` that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, `
` hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom `
` stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: `
` "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! `
` What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and `
` chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this `
` little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so `
` mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll `
` answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then `
` t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any `
` telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll `
` get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because `
` there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then `
` added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her `
` sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few `
` moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong `
` interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the `
` room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity `
` her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation `
` that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was `
` made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after `
` that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in `
` the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by `
` denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The `
` denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be `
` glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she `
` was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up `
` and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep `
` still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture `
` sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and `
` went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible `
` that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some `
` skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, `
` and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master `
` sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, `
` Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and `
` reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. `
` Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that `
` watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently `
` for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom `
` shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she `
` did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. `
` Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of `
` the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would `
` run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution `
` shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the `
` volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was `
` no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. `
` Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the `
` innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master `
` was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a `
` sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master `
` searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear `
` this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. `
` Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these `
` proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then `
` turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The `
` same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was `
` Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense `
` of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her `
` face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her `
` hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning `
` through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school `
` stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather `
` his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment `
` the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor `
` Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the `
` splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying `
` that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with `
` indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school `
` should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his `
` captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to `
` bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and `
` repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even `
` the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he `
` fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- `
` "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The `
` schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he `
` wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his `
` ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the `
` biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. `
` Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under `
` his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and `
` there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all `
` the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive `
` pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the `
` smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in `
` plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. `
` But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful `
` success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the `
` field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that `
` promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the `
` scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the `
` master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate `
` him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and `
` there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared `
` himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the `
` sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition `
` on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his `
` chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to `
` school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in `
` the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths `
` and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair `
` upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking `
` tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of `
` him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the `
` pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary `
` platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the `
` exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an `
` intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and `
` young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare `
` arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon `
` and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with `
` non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and `
` sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on `
` the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic `
` gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle `
` out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine `
` round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little `
` shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a `
` compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and `
` happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the `
` unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with `
` fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A `
` ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to `
` choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's `
` silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and `
` this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly `
` defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy `
` Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other `
` declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The `
` meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in `
` order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn `
` stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her `
` manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored `
` attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had `
` been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their `
` grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back `
` to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in `
` History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political `
` Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart `
` Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed `
` and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine `
` language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized `
` words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that `
` conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon `
` that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No `
` matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it `
` into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate `
` with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient `
` to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not `
` sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. `
` There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged `
` to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of `
` the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the `
` longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is `
` unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was `
` read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an `
` extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions `
` does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! `
` Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the `
` voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the `
` observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is `
` whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step `
` is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides `
` by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of `
` which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to `
` her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after `
` a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the `
` flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the `
` ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she `
` turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the `
` longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of `
` gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered `
` ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the `
` thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was `
` enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the `
` "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." `
` Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, `
` good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, `
` sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my `
` brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near `
` Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on `
` Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor `
` blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must `
` part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine `
` within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold `
` must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on `
` thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was `
` very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, `
` black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic `
` expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and `
` tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; `
` but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; `
` whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy `
` chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the `
` illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from `
` their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the `
`