holars what a joy it is to oneself and
one's friends to have mastered one of these muses. Singin' and speakin'
are closely allied, startin' from the same source. And hand-painting it
allus seemed to me, is really elocution in oils; for a be-yutiful picture
is a silent talker. What suggestions it brings to us as we look upon a
paintin' of a wreath of flowers, or fruit, or a handsome lady! This art
is lastin'. Speakin' and singin' is over as soon as they is done. So I
have often thought that had I only time I'd hand-paint; but bein' a busy
man I've had to content myself with but two of the muses."

Perry paused a moment to rub his hands and smile. I did not miss this
opportunity to break in, for I had no intention of listening to a
dissertation on art as well as to a recitation.

"Now let us have your 'Marmion,'" I said.

He had forgotten all about "Marmion," and came back to the knight with a
start and a cough. Then he gazed long at the floor. The school buzz
died away, and you could hear the ticking of my little clock. Perry
coughed again and I knew that he was started, so I settled down in my
chair and gazed out of the window.

"'But Doogulus round him drew his cloak,'" Perry was buttoning the two
top buttons of his Prince Albert as his voice rang out. "'Folded his
arms and thus he spoke.'"

Annagretta Holmes is only three years old. They send her to school to
keep her warm and out of mischief. She sat on the very front row, right
under Perry's eye. The poor child didn't understand why Teacher Thomas
should stare so at her, and she let out one long, unending bleat. This
gave me a chance to send Lulu Ann Nummler out of the room in charge of
the infant, and I rested easier when Perry drew his Prince Albert around
him once more and spoke.

A grand figure Perry would have made in Tantallion's towers. I forgot
the school, and the village and the valley, as I sat there looking out of
the window into the sky. I am in those towers when Marmion stops to bid
adieu, but in place of the proud Scottish noble, Perry Thomas stands
confronting the English warrior. What a pair they make--the knight armed
cap-a-pie, at his charger's side, and Perry in that close-fitting, shiny
coat that has seen so many great occasions in the valley. There is a
gracious bigness about the Englishman forgetting the cold respect with
which he has been treated and offering a mailed hand in farewell. But
Perry buttons his Prince Alb