THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE

The greeting of the company throughout

Was like a jubilee,— the children's shout

And fusillading hand-claps, with great guns

And detonations of the older ones,

Raged to such tumult of tempestuous joy,

It even more alarmed than pleased the boy;

Till, with a sudden twitching lip, he slid

Down to the floor and dodged across and hid

His face against his mother as she raised

Him to the shelter of her heart, and praised

His story in low whisperings, and smoothed

The “amber-colored hair,” and kissed, and soothed

And lulled him back to sweet tranquillity —

“And‘ ats a sign‘ at you're the Ma fer me!”

He lisped, with gurgling ecstasy, and drew

Her closer, with shut eyes; and feeling, too,

If he could only purr now like a cat,

He would undoubtedly be doing that!

“And now” — the serious host said, lifting there

A hand entreating silence;— “now, aware

Of the good promise of our Traveler guest

To add some story with and for the rest,

I think I favor you, and him as well,

Asking a story I have heard him tell,

And know its truth, in each minute detail:”

Then leaning on his guest's chair, with a hale

Hand-pat by way of full indorsement, he

Said, “Yes — the Free-Slave story — certainly.”

The old man, with his waddy notebook out,

And glittering spectacles, glanced round about

The expectant circle, and still firmer drew

His hat on, with a nervous cough or two:

And, save at times the big hard words, and tone

Of gathering passion — all the speaker's own,—

The tale that set each childish heart astir

Was thus told by “The Noted Traveler.”