Studying For The Contest.

Oh dear! If ever I try to learn another piece I hope to be swallowed by a whale ten times the size of the one that lunched on Jonah. Here I’ve been three weeks trying to get “The Flight of the Hottentots” by heart, and to-morrow night I am to recite at the contest; but I’m bound that that squint-eyed Caddy Screech shall not out-do me this time. Well, here it goes again: [Reads from the book without gesture.]

The swarthy forms steal one by one
Like shadows past the guard;
Now soft they creep, now leap, now run,
From tyrants base and hard;
But hark! what sound is that which comes
Across the sandy plain?
The sentry’s cry, the roll of drums!
Alas! their flight is vain.
Behold! a thousand torches flash
Like meteors into view!
While swift the Pagans onward dash
The bold dragoons pursue!
See! now the captives reach a stream,
A rushing torrent wild;
They cannot pass—[Throws book on floor.]

Oh, grief! now for the gestures: [With hesitation as though forgetting lines.]

The swarthy forms steal[51] one by one
Like shadows past the guard—

Confound[52] the gestures! they bother me worse than anything else. Why didn’t the fool that wrote the piece say which way they stole, up[53] a hill, down[54] a hill, or across[55] the road? Well, I’ll try the next two lines.

Now soft they creep,[56] now leap,[57] now run[58]
From tyrants base and hard—

They must have been acrobats to get over the ground in that shape; I’m desperate, I am!

But hark![59] what sound is that which comes
Across the sandy plain?

No; I mustn’t put my finger up like that.[60] Why should a person when alone be required to do it? Am I to warn myself to listen when I have ears? or if at all necessary, why not do it effectually and hold up both fingers, thus?[61] I’ll skip that part.

The sentry’s cry, the roll of drums,
Alas! their flight is vain[62]—

Now this is a puzzler.

The sentry’s cry—

Was it a whoop, a yell, a shriek, a halloo—but fiddle! Who ever heard a sentry cry? Why soldiers are brave men, and never weep. That is unquestionably a poetical li-cence.

—the roll of drums.

What on earth were the drums rolled for? It looks to me as though the Hottentots were drummed out of camp.

Alas! their flight is vain—

I don’t believe there was a flight of the Hottentots. What authority[63] is there for the flight? What made them fly anyhow? Well, I must move on:

Behold![64] a thousand torches flash
Like meteors into view!
While swift the Pagans onward[65] dash
The bold dragoons[66] pursue!

That’s better. The Principal could not beat that, particularly the Behold, and the s-w-i-f-t. Next comes the climax—a long respiration, and—and—

See![67] the captives pass a stream,
A rushing torrent[68] wild,
They cannot pass—

Now I object to this vague style of literature. The poet is silent as to how they reached it. With their hands, thus![69] or with their feet, thus![70] or on horseback, with a whoa![71] whoa! Dobbin? How am I to gesticulate correctly, not knowing the facts? I’ll do the poem to suit myself, and if I fail to win the prize, it will be through the stupidity of the judges, so there!

Geo. M. Vickers.

Gestures.