Page 289 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
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curtain  railed  up for the  last time,  and  tin:  manger  related  the  incident
                             of  the  previous  night,  and  announced  that  Parepa  Rosa's  farewell
                             would  be the  ballad  warbled  many  a  bitter  day  through  the city streets
                             by  little  Elfin,  the  Italian  musician.
                                Loud  and  prolonged  was  the  applause,  and  at Lhe first pause, sweep­
                             ing  in with  regal  grace with  the  white  lily  oil  her  breast  came  our
                             queen  of  song.   Queen  too,  by  right  of  her  beautiful,  unstained
                             womanhood,  she  stood a  moment,  and  then  sang  clearly and softly the
                             ballad  with the  refrain.  “ Farewell,  sweet  land."   Accompanying  her
                             came the  low,  tender  wail  of  little  Elfin’s  violin.  There  was  silence
                             in  that great  house  at the  close.   Then  a shout  went  up  that  shook
                             the very pilli-rs.
                                Parepa  Rosa,  God  called  thee  in  thy  perfect  womanhood,  but  thy
                             voice lives in  our hearts,  and at  the  last great  day it  shall  be  written in
                             shining letters on  thy  natnc,  “ Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  the
                             least  of these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me.'"— M a r y   L ,  W r i g i i t .



                                                              JACK.
                                           E  wasn't  a  good-lookin’  feller—
                                     H      The  hair on  his  tough,  old hide

                                          Was  a sort  o’  dirty yellcr,
                                     1-1 e  limped, too— being lame  on  one  side.
                                       But  a  better  sorl,  in  his  days,  sirs—
                                    More steady,  and  sure,  and  straight—
                                       You  wouldn’t  ha’  found in  a  hundred  curs
                                     (That's  to  say,  of  Jack’s  size  and weight),
                                       And many and  many  a penny
                                     He’s brought  to his  master's  til! ;
                                       Mac  wouldn’t  ha'  swapped him  for  any,
                                    But  the  dog  grew  old  and  ill,

                                    lie  war n’t  no  use  for  the  fold  no  more,
                                       A ir  he  warn't  no  good in  the  ring
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