lected to any office in the high
and mighty Clionian Society."

I am sorry that I cannot reproduce the withering sarcasm which
Fletcher put into his tone in the last sentence.

When Demosthenes was practising oratory, he sought the sea-shore; but
Fitzgerald repaired instead to a piece of woods about half a mile
distant. It was rather an unfortunate selection, as will appear.

It so happened that Tom Carver and Hiram Huntley were strolling about
the woods, when they espied Fletcher approaching with an open book in
his hand.

"Hiram," said Tom, "there's fun coming. There's Fitz Fletcher with
his 'Speaker' in his hand. He's going to practise reading in the
woods. Let us hide, and hear the fun."

"I'm in for it," said Hiram, "but where will be the best place to
hide?"

"Here in this hollow tree. He'll be very apt to halt here."

"All right! Go ahead, I'll follow."

They quickly concealed themselves in the tree, unobserved by
Fletcher, whose eyes were on his book.

About ten feet from the tree he paused.

"I guess this'll be a good place," he said aloud. "There's no one to
disturb me here. Now, which shall I begin with? I think I'll try
The Raven. But first it may be well to practise an appropriate
little speech. Something like this:"--

Fletcher made a low bow to the assembled trees, cleared his throat,
and commenced,--

"Ladies and Gentlemen: It gives me great pleasure to appear before
you this evening, in compliance with the request of the committee,
who have thought that my humble efforts would give _eclat_ to the
fair. I am not a professional reader, but I have ever found pleasure
in reciting the noble productions of our best authors, and I hope to
give you pleasure."

"That'll do, I think," said Fletcher, complacently. "Now I'll try
The Raven."

In a deep, sepulchral tone, Fletcher read the first verse, which is
quoted below:--

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more.'"

Was it fancy, or did Fletcher really hear a slow, measured tapping
near him--upon one of the trees, as it seemed? He started, and
looked nervously; but the noise stopped, and he decided that he had
been deceived, si