rred a little in others, but came out all
right, though quite breathless at the end, sitting down amid great
applause, some of which, curiously enough, seemed to come from outside;
which in fact it did, for Thorny was bound to hear but would not come
in, lest his presence should abash one orator at least.

Other pieces followed, all more or less patriotic and warlike, among the
boys; sentimental among the girls. Sam broke down in his attempt to give
one of Webster's great speeches, Little Cy Fay boldly attacked

"Again to the battle, Achaians!"

and shrieked his way through it in a shrill, small voice, bound to do
honor to the older brother who had trained him even if he broke a vessel
in the attempt. Billy chose a well-worn piece, but gave it a new
interest by his style of delivery; for his gestures were so spasmodic he
looked as if going into a fit, and he did such astonishing things with
his voice that one never knew whether a howl or a growl would come next.
When

"The woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;"

Billy's arms went round like the sails of a windmill; the "hymns of
lofty cheer" not only "shook the depths of the desert gloom," but the
small children on their little benches, and the school-house literally
rang "to the anthems of the free!" When "the ocean eagle soared," Billy
appeared to be going bodily up, and the "pines of the forest roared" as
if they had taken lessons of Van Amburgh's biggest lion. "Woman's
fearless eye" was expressed by a wild glare; "manhood's brow, severely
high," by a sudden clutch at the reddish locks falling over the orator's
hot forehead, and a sounding thump on his blue checked bosom told where
"the fiery heart of youth" was located. "What sought they thus far?" he
asked, in such a natural and inquiring tone, with his eye fixed on Mamie
Peters, that the startled innocent replied, "Dunno," which caused the
speaker to close in haste, devoutly pointing a stubby finger upward at
the last line.

This was considered the gem of the collection, and Billy took his seat
proudly conscious that his native town boasted an orator who, in time,
would utterly eclipse Edward Everett and Wendell Phillips.

Sally Folsom led off with "The Coral Grove," chosen for the express
purpose of making her friend Almira Mullet start and blush, when she
recited the second line of that pleasing poem,

"Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove."

One of the older gi