Chapter XXVIII: Part III: Programmes for Special Occasions (1)

CONTAINING

Charming Exercises for Fourth-of-July Celebrations; Washington’s Birthday; Christmas and Thanksgiving; Decoration Day; Public School Exhibitions; Arbor Day; Harvest Homes; Evening Entertainments, Etc., Etc.

INCLUDING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF DIALOGUES, TABLEAUX, SUBJECTS FOR DEBATE, ETC.

PROGRAMME NO. 1 FOR FOURTH OF JULY.

The following programme can be varied as occasion may require by additional exercises or by substituting others for those here suggested. The platform should be decorated with flags and patriotic emblems. In addition to the singing of patriotic airs, there should be music by a band or orchestra. Each of the children should be furnished with a small flag. Let all the exercises be very spirited.

MUSIC—By the Band or Orchestra.

SINGING—Tune: “America.”

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountain-side
Let freedom ring.

My native country, thee—
Land of the noble free—
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom’s song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break—
The sound prolong.

Our fathers’ God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With Freedom’s holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King.

SAMUEL F. SMITH.

READING—The Declaration of Independence.

RECITATION—The Fourth of July.

To the sages who spoke, to the heroes who bled,
To the day and the deed, strike the harp-strings of glory!
Let the song of the ransomed remember the dead,
And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story,
O’er the bones of the bold
Be that story long told,
And on fame’s golden tablets their triumphs enrolled
Who on freedom’s green hills freedom’s banner unfurled,
And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world!

They are gone—mighty men!—and they sleep in their fame:
Shall we ever forget them? Oh, never! no, never!
Let our sons learn from us to embalm each great name,
And the anthem send down—“Independence forever!”
Wake, wake, heart and tongue!
Keep the theme ever young;
Let their deeds through the long line of ages be sung
Who on freedom’s green hills freedom’s banner unfurled,
And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world!

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

READING—The Vow of Washington.

The sword was sheathed: in April’s sun
Lay green the fields by freedom won;
And severed sections, weary of debates,
Joined hands at last and were United States.

O city, sitting by the sea!
How proud the day that dawned on thee,
When the new era, long desired, began,
And, in its need, the hour had found the man!

One thought the cannon salvos spoke;
The resonant bell-tower’s vibrant stroke,
The voiceful streets, the plaudit-echoing halls,
And prayer and hymn borne heavenward from St. Paul’s!

How felt the land in every part
The strong throb of a nation’s heart,
As its great leader gave, with reverent awe,
His pledge to union, liberty and law!

That pledge the heavens above him heard,
That vow the sleep of centuries stirred;
In world-wide wonder listening peoples bent
Their gaze on freedom’s great experiment.

Could it succeed? Of honor sold
And hopes deceived all history told.
Above the wrecks that strewed the mournful past
Was the long dream of ages true at last?

Thank God! the people’s choice was just,
The one man equal to his trust,
Wise beyond lore, and without weakness good,
Calm in the strength of flawless rectitude!

His rule of justice, order, peace,
Made possible the world’s release;
Taught prince and serf that power is but a trust,
And rule, alone, which serves the ruled, is just;

That freedom generous is, but strong
In hate of fraud and selfish wrong,
Pretense that turns her holy truths to lies,
And lawless license masking in her guise.

Land of his love! with one glad voice
Let thy great sisterhood rejoice;
A century’s suns o’er thee have risen and set,
And, God be praised, we are one nation yet.

And still, we trust, the years to be
Shall prove his hope was destiny,
Leaving our flag with all its added stars
Unrent by faction and unstained by wars!

Lo! where with patient toil he nursed
And trained the new-set plant at first,
The widening branches of a stately tree
Stretched from the sunrise to the sunset sea.

And in its broad and sheltering shade,
Sitting with none to make afraid,
Were we now silent, through each mighty limb,
The winds of heaven would sing the praise of him.

Our first and best—his ashes lie
Beneath his own Virginian sky.
Forgive, forget, O true and just and brave,
The storm that swept above thy sacred grave!

For, ever in the awful strife
And dark hours of the nation’s life,
Through the fierce tumult pierced his warning word,
Their father’s voice his erring children heard!

The change for which he prayed and sought
In that sharp agony was wrought;
No partial interest draws its alien line
’Twixt North and South, the cypress and the pine!

One people now, all doubt beyond,
His name shall be our Union-bond;
We lift our hands to heaven, and here, and now,
Take on our lips the old Centennial vow.

For rule and trust must needs be ours;
Chooser and chosen both our powers
Equaled in service as in rights; the claim
Of duty rests on each and all the same.

Then let the sovereign millions, where
Our banner floats in sun and air,
From the warm palm-lands to Alaska’s cold,
Repeat with us the pledge a century old!

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

DECLAMATION—The Little Mayflower.

And now—for the fulness of time is come—let us go up, in imagination to yonder hill, and look out upon the November scene. That single dark speck, just discernible through the perspective glass, on the waste of waters, is the fated vessel. The storm moans through her tattered canvas, as she creeps, almost sinking, to her anchorage in Provincetown harbor; and there she lies, with all her treasures, not of silver and gold (for of these she has none), but of courage, of patience, of zeal, of high spiritual daring.

So often as I dwell in imagination on this scene; when I consider the condition of the Mayflower, utterly incapable, as she was, of living through another gale; when I survey the terrible front presented by our coast to the navigator who, unacquainted with its channels and roadsteads, should approach it in the stormy season, I dare not call it a mere piece of good fortune, that the general north and south wall of the shore of New England should be broken by this extraordinary projection of the cape, running out into the ocean a hundred miles, as if on purpose to receive and encircle the precious vessel.

As I now see her, freighted with the destinies of a continent, barely escaped from the perils of the deep, approaching the shore precisely where the broad sweep of this most remarkable headland presents almost the only point at which, for hundreds of miles, she could, with any ease, have made a harbor, and this, perhaps, the very best on the seaboard, I feel my spirit raised above the sphere of mere natural agencies.

I see the mountains of New England rising from their rocky thrones. They rush forward into the ocean, settling down as they advance; and there they range themselves, as a mighty bulwark around the heaven-directed vessel. Yes, the everlasting God himself stretches out the arm of his mercy and his power, in substantial manifestation, and gathers the meek company of his worshipers as in the hollow of his hand.

EDWARD EVERETT.

MARCH—Our Naval Cadets.

(Twelve or more boys dressed in naval costume and carrying flags.)

SINGING—TUNE: Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.

O, land of a million brave soldiers,
Who severed the bonds of despair;
O, land of a million true-hearted
Who failed not to do and to dare!
May ever thy shores gleam before us,
With harvests whose wealth shall not cease,
May ever in beauty bend o’er us,
The wings of the white dove of peace.

CHORUS.

Hail the glory of Freedom’s glad light!
Hail the passing of Slavery’s night!
Hail the triumph of Truth over Error!
Hail the glory of Freedom’s glad light!
Though hushed is the voice of the cannon
Though silent the loud battle cry,
There’s many to-day, who if needful,
For Freedom would suffer and die.
Columbia’s sons still are loyal,
Columbia’s sons still are true,
’Neath the emblem of Justice and Mercy
The banner of red, white and blue.

RECITATION—To the Ladies.

(To be prefaced with the following statement: “In the year 1768, the people of Boston resolved that they would not import any tea, glass, paper, or other commodities commonly brought from Great Britain, until the act imposing duties upon all such articles should be repealed. This poetical appeal to the ladies of the country, to lend a ‘helping hand’ for the furtherance of that resolution, appeared in the Boston _News Letter_, anonymously.”)

Young ladies in town, and those that live round,
Let a friend at this season advise you;
Since money’s so scarce, and times growing worse,
Strange things may soon hap and surprise you.

First, then, throw aside your topknots of pride;
Wear none but your own country linen;
Of economy boast, let your pride be the most
To show clothes of your own make and spinning.

What if homespun they say is not quite so gay
As brocades, yet be not in a passion,
For when once it is known this is much worn in town,
One and all will cry out—’Tis the fashion!

And, as one, all agree, that you’ll not married be
To such as will wear London factory,
But at first sight refuse, tell ’em such you will choose
As encourage our own manufactory.

No more ribbons wear, nor in rich silks appear;
Love your country much better than fine things;
Begin without passion, ’twill soon be the fashion
To grace your smooth locks with a twine string.

Throw aside your Bohea, and your Green Hyson tea,
And all things with a new-fashion duty;
Procure a good store of the choice Labrador,
For there’ll soon be enough here to suit you.

These do without fear, and to all you’ll appear
Fair, charming, true, lovely and clever;
Though the times remain darkish, young men may be sparkish,
And love you much stronger than ever.

Then make yourselves easy, for no one will teaze ye,
Nor tax you, if chancing to sneer
At the sense-ridden tools, who think us all fools;
But they’ll find the reverse far and near.

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

TABLEAU—Conquered and Conqueror.

(A soldier dressed as a British redcoat is lying down, resting
on one elbow and holding up his hand to ward off his foe. A
soldier dressed in Continental uniform stands over him, pointing
a bayonet at his breast.)

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

PROGRAMME NO. 2, FOR FOURTH OF JULY.

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

SINGING—TUNE: America.

God bless our native land!
Firm may she ever stand
Through storm and night;
When the wild tempests rave,
Ruler of winds and wave!
Do thou our country save
By thy great might.

For her our prayers shall rise
To God above the skies,
On him we wait;
Thou who art ever nigh,
Guardian with watchful eye!
To thee alone we cry,
God save the State.

Our fathers’ God! to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee we sing;

Long may our land be bright
With freedom’s holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King!

READING—Declaration of Independence.

RECITATION—Our Natal Day.

Oh, the Fourth of July!
When fire-crackers fly,
And urchins in petticoats tyrants defy!
When all the still air
Creeps away in despair,
And clamor is king, be the day dark or fair!
When freedom’s red flowers
Fall in star-spangled showers,
And liberty capers for twenty-four hours.
When the morn’s ushered in
By a sleep-crushing din,
That tempts us to use philological sin;
When the forenoon advances
With large circumstances,
Subjecting our lives to debatable chances;
When the soldiers of peace
Their attractions increase,
By marching, protected with clubs of police;
When the little toy gun
Has its share of the fun,
By teaching short-hand to the favorite son.

Oh, the Fourth of July!
When grand souls hover nigh!
When Washington bends from the honest blue sky!
When Jefferson stands—
Famous scribe of all lands—
The charter of heaven in his glorified hands!
When his comrade—strong, high,
John Adams—comes nigh,
(For both went to their rest the same Fourth of July!)
When Franklin—grand, droll—
That could lightnings control,
Comes here with his sturdy, progressive old soul;
When freedom’s strong staff—
Hancock—with a laugh,
Writes in memory’s album his huge autograph!

But let thought have its way,
And give memory sway;
Do we think of the cost of this glorified day?
While the harvest-field waves,
Do we think of those braves
In the farms thickly planted with thousands of graves?
How the great flag up there,
Clean and pure as the air,
Has been drabbled with blood-drops, and trailed in despair?

Do we know what a land
God hath placed in our hand,
To be made into star-gems, or crushed into sand?
Let us feel that our race,
Doomed to no second place,
Must glitter with triumph, or die in disgrace!
That millions unborn,
At night, noon, and morn,
Will thank us with blessings, or curse us with scorn,
For raising more high
Freedom’s flag to the sky,
Or losing forever the Fourth of July!

WILL CARLETON.

SINGING—Tune: “Hold the Fort.”

Oh, behold in all its beauty,
Freedom’s flag unfurled!
Glorious flag—to us the fairest
In the wide, wide world.

CHORUS.

Proudly float, O flag of Freedom,
Fair Columbia’s pride!
For thy stars and stripes of beauty,
Many a hero died.

Great the price of Freedom’s purchase—
’Twas the price of life;
Oh, the pain and loss and sorrow
Ere the end of strife.

Ever mindful of the struggle,
Let us all be true
To the colors of our nation—
Red, and white and blue.

RECITATION—The Banner of the Sea.

By wind and wave the sailor brave has fared
To shores of every sea;
But never yet have seamen met or dared
Grim death for victory
In braver mood than they who died
On drifting decks, in Apia’s tide,
While cheering every sailor’s pride,
The banner of the free!

Columbia’s men were they who then went down,
Not knights nor kings of old,
But brighter far their laurels are than crown
Or coronet of gold;
Our sailor true, of any crew,
Would give the last long breath he drew
To cheer the old red, white and blue,
The banner of the bold!

With hearts of oak, through storm and smoke and flame,
Columbia’s seamen long
Have bravely fought and nobly wrought, that shame
Might never dull their song;
They sing the country of the free,
The glory of the rolling sea,
The starry flag of liberty,
The banner of the strong!

We ask but this, and not amiss the claim,
A fleet to ride the wave,
A navy great to crown the State with fame,
Though foes or tempests rave;
Then, as our fathers did of yore,
We’ll sail our ships to every shore,
On every ocean wind will soar
The banner of the brave!

Oh! this we claim, that never shame may ride
On any wave with thee,
Thou Ship of State, whose timbers great abide
The home of liberty!
For, so, our gallant Yankee tars,
Of daring deeds and honored scars,
Will make the banner of the stars
The banner of the sea.

HOMER GREEN.

MUSIC—Cornet Solo.

ORATION—What America has Done for the World.

What has this nation done to repay the world for the benefits we have received from others? We have been repeatedly told, and sometimes, too, in a tone of affected impartiality, that the highest praise which can fairly be given to the American mind, is that of possessing an enlightened selfishness; that if the philosophy and talents of this country, with all their effects, were forever swept into oblivion, the loss would be felt only by ourselves; and that if to the accuracy of this general charge, the labors of Franklin present an illustrious, it is still but a solitary, exception.

The answer may be given, confidently and triumphantly. Without abandoning the fame of our eminent men, whom Europe has been slow and reluctant to honor, we would reply, that the intellectual power of this people has exerted itself in conformity to the general system of our institutions and manners; and therefore, that, for the proof of its existence and the measure of its force, we must look not so much to the works of prominent individuals, as to the great aggregate results; and if Europe has hitherto been wilfully blind to the value of our example and the exploits of our sagacity, courage, invention, and freedom, the blame must rest with her, and not with America.

Is it nothing for the universal good of mankind to have carried into successful operation a system of self-government, uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion, and equality of rights, with national power and dignity; such as had before existed only in the Utopian dreams of philosophers? Is it nothing, in moral science, to have anticipated in sober reality, numerous plans of reform in civil and criminal jurisprudence, which are, but now, received as plausible theories by the politicians and economists of Europe? Is it nothing to have been able to call forth on every emergency, either in war or peace, a body of talented patriots always equal to the difficulty?

Is it nothing to have, in less than a half-century, exceedingly improved the sciences of political economy, of law, and of medicine, with all their auxiliary branches; to have enriched human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of useful facts and observations, and to have augmented the power and the comforts of civilized man, by miracles of mechanical invention? Is it nothing to have given the world examples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of public virtue; of learning, eloquence, and valor, never exerted save for some praiseworthy end? It is sufficient to have briefly suggested these considerations; every mind would anticipate me in filling up the details.

No—Land of Liberty! thy children have no cause to blush for thee. What though the arts have reared few monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the muse’s footstep is found in the paths of our forests, or along the banks of our rivers; yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes, and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become one vast temple and hallowed asylum, sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the persecuted of every sect, and the wretched of all nations.

Land of Refuge—Land of Benedictions! Those prayers still arise, and they still are heard: “May peace be within thy walls, and plenteousness within thy palaces!” “May there be no decay, no leading into captivity, and no complaining in thy streets!” “May truth flourish out of the earth, and righteousness look down from Heaven!”

GULIAN C. VERPLANCK.

MARCH—Daughters of the Revolution.

(Twelve or more little girls, dressed in Continental costume and carrying flags. They should be drilled to perform a march.)

RECITATION—Stand up for Liberty.

Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought
For those rights which unstained from your sires had descended.
May you long taste the blessings your valor has brought,
And your sons reap the soil which your fathers defended.
Let our patriots destroy anarch’s pestilent worm,
Lest our liberty’s growth should be checked by corrosion;
Then let clouds thicken round us: we heed not the storm;
Our realm feels no shock but the earth’s own explosion.
Foes assail us in vain,
Though their fleets bridge the main;
For our altars and laws with our lives we’ll maintain;
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

Should the tempest of war overshadow our land,
Its bolts could ne’er rend freedom’s temple asunder;
For, unmoved, at its portal would Washington stand,
And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the thunder!
His sword from the sleep
Of its scabbard would leap,
And conduct, with its point, every flash to the deep!
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

Let fame to the world sound America’s voice;
No intrigues can her sons from their government sever;
Her pride are her statesmen—their laws are her choice,
And shall flourish till liberty slumbers forever.
Then unite heart and hand,
Like Leonidas’ band,
And swear to the God of the ocean and land
That ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

ROBERT TREAT PAINE, JR.

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

RECITATION—Off with Your Hat as the Flag Goes By.

Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
And let the heart have its say;
You’re man enough for a tear in your eye
That you will not wipe away.

You’re man enough for a thrill that goes
To your very finger tips—
Ay! The lump just then in your throat that rose
Spoke more than your parted lips.

Lift up the boy on your shoulder high,
And show him the faded shred—
Those stripes would be red as the sunset sky
If death could have dyed them red.

The man that bore it, with death has lain
These thirty years or more—
He died that the work should not be vain
Of the men who bore it before.

The man that bears it is bent and old,
And ragged his beard and gray;
But see his proud form grow young and bold,
At the tune that he hears them play.

The old tune thunders through all the air,
And strikes right into the heart;
If it ever calls for you, boy, be there!
Be there and ready to start!

Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
Uncover the youngster’s head!
Teach him to hold it holy and high,
For the sake of its sacred dead.

H. C. BUNNER.

RECITATION—The Young American.

Scion of a mighty stock!
Hands of iron—hearts of oak—
Follow with unflinching tread
Where the noble fathers led.

Craft and subtle treachery,
Gallant youth! are not for thee;
Follow thou in word and deeds
Where the God within thee leads!

Honesty with steady eye,
Truth and pure simplicity,
Love that gently winneth hearts—
These shall be thy only arts:

Prudent in the council train,
Dauntless on the battle-plain,
Ready at the country’s need
For her glorious cause to bleed!

Where the dews of night distill
Upon Vernon’s holy hill;
Where above it, gleaming far,
Freedom lights her guiding star:

Thither turn the steady eye,
Flashing with a purpose high;
Thither, with devotion meet,
Often turn the pilgrim feet!

Let the noble motto be,
God—the country—liberty!
Planted on religion’s rock,
Thou shalt stand in every shock.

TABLEAU—Surrender of Cornwallis.

(American and British soldiers in the background. Washington in
front and Cornwallis handing him his sword.)

MUSIC—By Band or Orchestra.

PROGRAMME FOR A CHRISTMAS ENTERTAINMENT.

(A Christmas tree always pleases young people, and what interests them is sure to be appreciated by older persons. In the absence of a Christmas tree, loaded with decorations and gifts, the room should be trimmed with evergreens; in fact, such decorations are always in order at the merry Christmas time.)

SONG—Christmas Bells, Tune: “Ring the Bells of Heaven.”

Ring, O bells, in gladness,
Tell of joy to-day;
Ring and swing o’er all the world so wide.
Banish thoughts of sadness,
Drive all grief away,
For it is the Merry Christmas tide.

CHORUS.

Ring, O bells, from spire and swelling dome,
Ring and bid the peaceful ages come;
Banish thoughts of sadness,
Drive all grief away,
For it is the Merry Christmas Day.

Ring, O bells, the story
From the ages far;
Of the Christmas joy and song and light;
How the wondrous glory
Of the Christmas star
Led the shepherds onward through the night!

Ring, O bells, in gladness
Of the Saviour King;
May your silver chimings never cease;
Banish thoughts of sadness
And all nations bring
Glorious dawning of the Day of Peace.

ALICE JEAN CLEATOR.

RELIGIOUS EXERCISES—To be Selected.

RECITATION—A Letter to Santa Claus.

Blessed old Santa Claus! king of delights!
What are you doing these long winter nights?
Filling your budgets with trinkets and toys—
Wonderful gifts for the girls and the boys?
While you are planning for everything nice,
Pray let me give you a bit of advice.

Don’t take it hard, if I say in your ear,
Santa, I think you were partial last year;
Loading the rich folks with everything gay,
Snubbing the poor ones who came in your way:
Now, of all times in the year, I am sure
This is the time to remember the poor.

Little red hands that are aching with cold,
You should have mittens your fingers to hold;
Poor little feet, with your frost-bitten toes,
You should be clothed in the warmest of hose.
On the dark hearth I would kindle a light,
Till the sad faces were happy and bright.

Don’t you think, Santa, if all your life through,
Some one had always been caring for you,
Watching to guard you by night and by day,
Giving you gifts you could never repay,
Sometimes, at least, you would sigh to recall
How many children have nothing at all?

Safe in your own quiet chamber at night,
Cozy and warm in your blankets so white,
Wouldn’t you think of the shivering forms
Out in the cold and the wind and the storms?
Wouldn’t you think of the babies who cry,
Pining in hunger and cold till they die?

Blessed old Nick! I was sure, if you knew it,
You would remember, and certainly do it;
This year, at least, when you open your pack,
Pray give a portion to all who may lack;
Then if you chance to have anything over,
Bring a small gift to your friend—Kitty Clover.

RECITATION—Christmas in all the Lands

(For four children. They recite singly and then in concert,
beginning with the words in the last verse, “Lo, want and
sin,” etc.)

FIRST CHILD.

From the wild Northland where the wolf’s long howl
Stirs the depths of down in the ocean fowl,
And the white bear prowls with stealthy creep
To the spot where the seal lies fast asleep,
And the sledges flash through the silence vast
Like a glittering dream, now here, now past,—
On this waste of sparkle and waste of snow
’Neath skies aflame with a crimson glow;
The feet of the Christ-child softly fall,
And Christmas dawn brings cheer to all.

SECOND CHILD.

’Tis the homestead low in the quiet vale
Where the farm-dog follows Dobbin’s trail
To the pasture lot, now cold and bare,
And sniffs with glee the snow-filled air.
In this home of busy household joys,
’Mong the rosy girls and sturdy boys,
Sweet peace descends on wings of light,
And all exclaim, “’Tis Christmas night,
The dear Christ-child is hovering near
Let each one share our Christmas cheer.”

THIRD CHILD.

’Tis the prairies vast where cyclones sweep,
And their sturdy men world-harvests reap,
Where the skies are such an airy blue
An angel’s robe might flutter through;
And the lark flings down her music sweet
A chain of song, each link complete;
Then a white day comes, so bland or wild,
It bears in arms the sweet Christ-child,
And hearts touch heart and hands touch hand,
While Christmas light illumes the land.

FOURTH CHILD.

’Tis the land of palms and of orange trees,
Whose lamps of gold swing in the breeze,
Where the pickaninny’s black eyes glow,
O’er swarthy cheeks and teeth of snow,
And the dusky hand is raised to bless
The gift that makes his misery less;
For rich and poor and young and old
Stand in the charmed ring of gold
Which Christmas brings. Lo, want and sin
Flee from the blessed eyes of Him,
The dear Christ child, who far and near
Gives Christmas love and Christmas cheer.

G. A. BROWN.

MUSIC—Cornet Solo, or Choir.

READING—Santa Claus on the Train.

On a Christmas eve an emigrant train
Sped on through the blackness of night,
And cleft the pitchy dark in twain
With the gleam of its fierce headlight.

In a crowded car, a noisome place,
Sat a mother and her child;
The woman’s face bore want’s wan trace,
But the little one only smiled,

And tugged and pulled at her mother’s dress,
And her voice had a merry ring,
As she lisped, “Now, mamma, come and guess
What Santa Claus’ll bring.”

But sadly the mother shook her head,
As she thought of a happier past;
“He never can catch us here,” she said
“The train is going too fast.”

“O, mamma, yes, he’ll come, I say,
So swift are his little deer,
They run all over the world to-day;—I’ll
hang my stocking up here.”

She pinned her stocking to the seat,
And closed her tired eyes;
And soon she saw each longed-for sweet
In dreamland’s paradise.

On a seat behind the little maid
A rough man sat apart,
But a soft light o’er his features played,
And stole into his heart.

As the cars drew up at a busy town
The rough man left the train,
But scarce had from the steps jumped down
Ere he was back again.

And a great big bundle of Christmas joys
Bulged out from his pocket wide;
He filled the stocking with sweets and toys
He laid by the dreamer’s side.

At dawn the little one woke with a shout,
’Twas sweet to hear her glee;
“I knowed that Santa Claus would find me out,
He caught the train you see.”

Though some from smiling may scarce refrain,
The child was surely right,
The good St. Nicholas caught the train,
And came aboard that night.

For the saint is fond of masquerade
And may fool the old and wise,
And so he came to the little maid
In an emigrant’s disguise.

And he dresses in many ways because
He wishes no one to know him,
For he never says, “I am Santa Claus,”
But his good deeds always show him.

HENRY C. WALSH.

RECITATION—The Waifs.

At the break of Christmas day,
Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
“Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!”

Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow
Bringing the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
“Winter’s drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with him bringing!”

“Merry Christmas!” hear them say
As the east is growing lighter;
“May the joy of Christmas day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”
Join their singing,
“To each home
Our Christ has come,
All Love’s treasures with him bringing!”

MARGARET DELAND.

SONG—Welcome Santa Claus. Tune: “Hold the Fort.”

From the cold and frosty northland;
Oh so far away,
Santa Claus will soon be coming
In his little sleigh;
Let us listen for the reindeers’
Dancing, prancing feet,
Let us wait old Santa’s jolly,
Jolly face to greet!

Listen, don’t you hear his sleigh-bells
Oh so faintly ring,
Santa Claus is surely coming
Many gifts to bring;
In his busy little workshop
Many a long, long day,
Pretty presents he has made
To give them all away!

Oh his sleigh-bells jingle, jingle,
Very, very near;
Can it be that dear old Santa’s
Really almost here?
Hark, they cease their silver music,
Santa Claus has come!
Welcome, welcome, dear old Santa,
Welcome to each home!

ORIGINAL ADDRESS—By a Person Selected.

RECITAL—Santa Claus and the Mouse.

(For boy or girl, who has a stocking with a hole in it, and holds
it up in the last verse, shows the hole and thrusts one or two
fingers through it.)

One Christmas eve when Santa Claus
Came to a certain house,
To fill the children’s stockings there
He found a little mouse.

“A merry Christmas, little friend,”
Said Santa, good and kind.
“The same to you, sir,” said the mouse,
“I thought you wouldn’t mind

If I should stay awake to-night
And watch you for awhile.”
“You’re very welcome, little mouse,”
Said Santa with a smile.

And then he filled the stockings up
Before the mouse could wink.—
From toe to top, from top to toe
There wasn’t left a chink.

“Now, they won’t hold another thing,”
Said Santa Claus, with pride.
A twinkle came in mouse’s eyes,
But humbly he replied:

“It’s not polite to contradict,—
Your pardon I implore,—
But in the fullest stocking there
I could put one thing more.”

“Oh, ho!” laughed Santa, “silly mouse!
Don’t I know how to pack?
By filling stockings all these years,
I should have learned the knack.”

And then he took the stocking down
From where it hung so high,
And said: “Now put in one thing more;
I give you leave to try.”

The mousie chuckled to himself,
And then he softly stole
Right to the stocking’s crowded toe
And gnawed a little hole!

“Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,
I’ve put in one thing more;
For you will own that little hole
Was not in there before.”

How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh!
And then he gayly spoke:
“Well! you shall have a Christmas cheese
For that nice little joke.”

If you don’t think this story true,
Why I can show to you
The very stocking with the hole
The little mouse gnawed through!

EMILIE POULSSON.

RECITATION—What Ted Found in his Stocking.

“I don’t care, I _will_ go!
So there, Mamma Mouse!
The folks are all sleeping
All over the house;

“The stockings are hanging—
I smell the sweet bits.
It’s enough to drive mousies
Into wild, crazy fits!”

So when old Mrs. Mouse
Went off to her bed,
The little mouse watched,
And popped up his head.

Then smelling his way
Very nicely along,
He jumped into a stocking,
So new and so strong.

But a string on a bundle
Stuck out in a loop,
And in it he tumbled,
The poor silly dupe!

Oh, then what bewailings
Came out of that stocking!
Such moans and lamentings,
It really was shocking!

“O dear! and oh dear!
I wish I was home!
If I’d minded mamma,
And hadn’t ’a’ come!”

But ’twas all of no use.
The string was so tight
That all he could do
Was to wait for daylight.

Then Ted gave a shout
That awoke the whole house;
For there in his stocking
Was a little gray mouse!

What became of him then
The cat only can tell,
But one thing I’ll say—
I know very well

(_By Whole School in Concert_).

That he’ll never again on a Christmas Eve
Jump into a stocking without any leave!

MUSIC—To be Selected.

SANTA CLAUS—To be Selected.

(Comes in dressed in heavy winter garments, with long, white beard
and pockets stuffed with toys).

DISTRIBUTION OF GIFTS.

PROGRAMME FOR DECORATION DAY.

(Music by band or orchestra can be introduced whenever deemed appropriate).

SINGING—“Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.”

DECLAMATION—The Meaning of the Day.

All over our land, in every cemetery where rests members of our army of the dead—and we doubt if any burial place has not such sleepers,—people are gathered to-day to pay tribute to our soldier dead and strew flowers over their graves. All hearts turn as by a common impulse to these ceremonies. We bring our offerings of flowers to the soldiers, but it affects them not; they cannot feel the love and gratitude that prompt the gift. Their lives and deeds have wrought for themselves more enduring monuments than sculptured marble. We assure the loving soldiers that they are not forgotten—that their courage and patriotism will always be remembered as long as a loyal school boy or school girl may live. But this day means more than this, it means something for our nation, something for posterity; its belief in that grand old flag and what it stands for; a belief in freedom. It means that the boys and girls of to-day, the men and women of to-morrow, who share in this day’s ceremonies, echo the words of our fathers, that “this government shall be preserved, come what will, threaten it who may.”

EXERCISE.

(For fifteen pupils each carrying a flag, and gesturing as
indicated. Pupil 8 should carry a larger flag than the others.
Seven to the left of eight should hold flags to left shoulder;
seven to right of eight, should hold flags to right shoulder.
When the word _North_ is recited, the seven to the right of
number eight raise their flags, then back to the shoulder; when
the word _South_ is recited, the seven to the left of number
eight lift their flags, then replace to shoulders. Each might
carry in other hand a bunch of flowers, and at the word
_flowers_, the bouquets should be raised as were the flags.
The pupils to the left could wear gray and those to the right,
blue, in some way—in caps, sashes or bows. Number eight should
be dressed in red, white and blue.)

_1st Pupil._

There is peace, there is peace in the South and the North,
When the suns of the May-time shall call the blooms forth.

_2nd Pupil._

There is peace in the vale where the Tennessee runs—
Where the river grass covers the long silent guns.

_3rd Pupil._

There is peace in Virginia amid the tall corn;
Where Lookout’s high summit grows bright in the morn.

_4th Pupil._

There is peace where the James wanders down to the main;
Where the war-torn Savannas are golden with grain.

_5th Pupil._

There is peace where the squadrons of carnage have wheeled,
Fierce over Shiloh’s shell-furrowed field.

_6th Pupil._

There is peace in the soil whence the palmettoes spring;
In the sad Shenandoah the harvesters sing.

_7th Pupil._

There is peace in Manassas, Antietam’s dark rills;
No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.

_8th Pupil._

There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;
On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.

_9th Pupil._

There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,
Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.

_10th Pupil._

There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,
Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.

_11th Pupil._

There is peace where the war-hoofs tore up the smooth lea,
Where the hoarse-noted cannon rang over the sea.

_12th Pupil._

There is peace in the North, though her soldier is yet
Far away on the field where the fierce columns met.

_13th Pupil._

There is peace in the South, though her soldier is lost
In the path where the lines of the foeman have crossed.

_14th Pupil._

There is peace in the land, and the “stars and the bars”
Forever have merged in the “stripes and the stars.”

_15th Pupil._

There is peace where the flowers cover the tombs,
And the Blue and the Gray now blend with the blooms.

_All._

God grant that this peace may forever be ours!
And the Blue and the Gray alike sleep neath the flowers!

(These last two lines should be recited while flags and flowers
are held in front, in prayerful attitude, eyes of pupils glancing
upward.)

RECITATION—Decoration Day.

It’s lonesome—sorto’ lonesome—it’s a Sund’y day to me,
It ’pears like—mor’n any day I nearly ever see!
Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,
On ev’ry soldier’s grave I’d love to lay a lily there.

They say, though, Decoration Days is generally observed—
Most ev’ry wheres—especially by soldier boys that served—
But me and mother never went—we seldom git away—
In pint of fact, we’re allus home on Decoration Day.

They say the old boys marches through the streets in columns grand,
A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,
And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—
All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,

With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!
And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!
Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?
Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?

Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—
Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?
Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to say
They know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?

We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,
In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,
And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breeze
Above his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.

And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,
It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—
Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,
On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

ACROSTIC—Memorial Day.

(_Exercise for eleven children. Each carries standard on which
the letters are pasted in red, white and blue, and turns the
letter toward the audience as the words are recited._)

Memorial Day again has come,
When throbs the music of the drum.

Each muffled accent seems to tell
Of heroes who in battle fell.

Memories return to boys in blue,
Of vanished comrades brave and true.

On camping ground and battle plain
Alike they met with want and pain.

Rivers of blood their courses swept,
While sad Columbia mourned and wept.

In fever swamp and prison pen
Died many of her bravest men.

All honor to the soldier bands
Who followed Freedom’s stern commands.

Let each true soldier’s noble name,
Glow brightly on the books of Fame.

Deeds wrought for truth can never die
For they are penned in books on high.

A nation now in reverence stands
With sorrowing heart and flower-filled hands.

Years may into long ages glide,
These names shall still be glorified.

PAPER—Origin of Memorial Day.

General John Murray was the originator of Memorial Day in the North. While visiting in the South in the winter of 1867-’68, he noticed the touching rite of decorating soldiers’ graves with flowers by the ladies. Being very much impressed with this custom, he instituted a similar one at his own home.

On the 5th day of May, 1868, Gen. John A. Logan, who was then Commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, established Decoration Day, and by a general order, May 30, 1868, was designated as a day set apart for the purpose of paying tribute to the memory of those brave men who died in defense of our country. The national encampment held in Washington had it incorporated in its rules and regulations, May 11, 1870. Since then, in many of the States, May 30th has been established as a holiday, and it is the universal custom to decorate the graves of all ex-soldiers, thus making it one of the most patriotic days of the year, wherein all classes unite in paying honor to our heroic dead, and feel a conscious pride in being able to thus show respect for their memory and the cause for which they fought.

SONG:—“The Star Spangled Banner.”

EXERCISE.

(A large urn or vase is placed on a stand decorated with the
national colors and a bow of black ribbon. Around the rim of
the vase a beautiful wreath should be placed. The stand should
be at the front of the rostrum, so the pupils may pass behind it.
The pupils representing the various wars should be dressed if
possible in the costumes of that day—military costumes. Beside
the urn, a girl representing Liberty should stand holding a large
flag at half-mast, she should dress in white and wear sash of the
national colors. After reciting, each pupil stands in rear of
Liberty. When coming upon the stage, each pupil salutes the flag
before reciting and stands on opposite side of urn while reciting.
When through, he gracefully deposits his bouquet into the urn. At
close of exercise the school arises and salutes the flag and
repeats the pledge.)

_Liberty_ (_Enters carrying flag and recites standing at right
of urn; when through reciting casts her flowers into the urn._)

“Strew with flowers the soldier’s grave,
Plant each lovely thing that grows;
Let the summer breezes wave
The calla lily and the rose;
White and red—the cause, the price!
Right, upheld by sacrifice.

Let the summer’s perfumed breath,
Fragrant with the sweetest flowers,
Charm the sadness out of death,
Glorify the mourners’ hours,
Freighted with their prayers, arise
Incense of their sacrifice.

’Tis not valor that we praise,
Thirst for glory, love of strife;
Gentle hearts from quiet ways,
Turned to save a nation’s life,
Lest in jealous fragments torn
Freedom’s land should come to scorn.

O’er the Gray, as o’er the Blue,
Nature’s bursting tears will flow;
Both were brave, and both were true
And fought for all they loved below.
Pity! nor forbid the tear
Shed above so sad a bier.

Cherish, then, the patriot fires,
Honor loyalty, and trust
In God that Freedom ne’er expires
Where virtue guards the martyr’s dust,
Who counted life as little worth,
And saved the imperiled Hope of Earth.”

JNO. W. DUNBAR.

OUR NATION’S PATRIOTS.

_Revolutionary Pupil._

I had heard the muskets’ rattle of the April running battle;
Lord Percey’s hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still;
But a deadly chill comes o’er me, as the day looms up before me,
When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.
Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;
And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.
There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,
And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;
Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,
For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!

_Civil War Pupil._

Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,
Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o’er the brave the refrain of the free.

Sound the refrain of the loyal and free,
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed,
Wave the starred banner from seacoast to sea
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.

_Cuban War Pupil (carrying Cuban Flag.)_

New graves we crown with flowers to-day
New homes shall saddened be;
For loved ones sleeping far away,
And some beneath the sea.

’Twas for humanity and right
Our loved boys fought and died;
To lift the islands into light
And break the Spanish pride.

We’ll wrap the Bible in the Flag
And back them with our might,
And bear them over sea and crag,
In lofty eagle’s flight;

And break the bands of heathen night,
And set the islands free;
Till Freedom sheds her glorious light
O’er every land and sea.

_Liberty (in prayerful attitude, the boys standing in rear with
hats lifted.)_

O God! look down upon the land which Thou hast loved so well,
And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell;
Nor while the grass grows on the hill, and streams flow through the vale,
May they forget their fathers’ faith, or in their covenant fail!
God keep the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sky—
Our country, our whole country, whose fame shall never die.

PLEDGE.

(All stand; salute flag; and repeat pledge.)

“We pledge allegiance to our flag and the republic for which it stands—one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

SONG—America.

PROGRAMME FOR WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY.

MUSIC—“The Star-Spangled Banner.”

RECITATION—Washington Enigma.

To be given by ten little girls with evergreen or large printed
letters hung around their necks by a black thread and adjusted
to the proper height. Let the letter be turned as the child
speaks.

_First Child_—W—

In the wailing winds my first
Speaks in faintly murmuring tones.

_Second Child_—A—

While my second’s cry will burst
In the martyr’s latest groans.—

_Third Child_—S—

How the noisome serpents scare.
In them finds my third a place.

_Fourth Child_—H—

In the homes which mothers share,
Rules my fourth with gentle grace.

_Fifth Child_—I—

Watch the Indian’s scalping knife,
And my fifth shall greet your sight.

_Sixth Child_—N—

But my sixth is brought to life
In the moonless ebon night.

_Seventh Child_—G—

See the gambler’s greed and note
How my seventh rules supreme.

_Eighth Child_—T—

The latest presidential vote
Holds secure my eighth, I deem.

_Ninth Child_—O—

From our sorrow, from our woe,
None can drive my ninth away.

_Tenth Child_—N—

Mark the wailing infant—lo!
There my tenth holds fullest sway.

_All in Concert._

Join from first to tenth each part,
And you’ll find a noble name,
Written on each patriot’s heart,
Glorious in our country’s fame.

RECITATION—Washington’s Day.

For a little boy.

Oh! how the world remembers!
It is many and many a day
Since the patriot, George Washington,
Grew old and passed away.

And yet to-day we are keeping
In memory of his birth,
And his deeds of truth and valor
Are told at every hearth.

How he fought for independence
All little schoolboys know;
And why he signed the declaration
So many years ago.

To be as great as Washington
I could not if I would;
But I’ve made up my mind that I
Will try to be as good.

RECITATION—A Little Boy’s Hatchet Story.

When the great and good George Washington
Was a little boy like me,
He took his little hatchet
And chopped down a cherry tree.

And when his papa called him,
He then began to cry,
“I did it, oh, I did it;
I cannot tell a lie!”

His papa didn’t scold at all,
But said, “You noble youth,
I’d gladly lose ten cherry trees
To have you tell the truth!”

But I myself am not quite clear;
For if I took my hatchet
And chopped my papa’s cherry tree,
Oh, wouldn’t I just catch it!

READING—Maxims of Washington.

Adopted by him at the age of fifteen.

“Neither laugh, nor speak, nor listen when older people are talking together.”

“Say not anything that will hurt another, either in fun or in earnest.”

“If you say anything funny, don’t laugh at it yourself, but let others enjoy it.”

“When another person speaks, listen yourself, and try not to disturb others.”

“Obey and honor your father and mother.”

“Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.”

“When you meet with one of greater quality than yourself, stop and retire, especially if it be at a door or any strait place, to give way for him to pass.”

“Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.”

“Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy.”

“Be not curious to know the affairs of others; neither approach to those that speak in private.”

“Undertake not what you cannot perform, but be careful to keep your promises.”

“Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”

SINGING—Tune: “My Country.”

Once more we celebrate
Birthday of him so great,
So true and brave;
Who struggled not in vain
Liberty to attain,
Breaking a tyrant’s chain
His land to save.

Bravely the patriot band
Fought ’neath his sure command
And freedom won;
Honor those soldiers all,
Who did for freedom fall,
Who followed at the call
Of Washington.

While shines in heaven the sun,
The name of Washington
Shall glow with light;
He feared no tyrant grand,
But foremost in command,
Did like a mountain stand
For cause of right.

ALICE JEAN CLEATOR.

ORATION—The Father of his Country.

The birthday of the “Father of his Country!” May it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts! May it ever re-awaken in them a filial veneration for his memory; ever rekindle the fires of patriotic regard to the country he loved so well; to which he gave his youthful vigor and his youthful energy, during the perilous period of the early Indian warfare; to which he devoted his life, in the maturity of his powers, in the field; to which again he offered the counsels of his wisdom and his experience, as President of the Convention that framed our Constitution; which he guided and directed while in the Chair of State, and for which the last prayer of his earthly supplication was offered up, when it came the moment for him so well, and so grandly, and I so calmly, to die. He was the first man of the time in which he grew. His memory is I first and most sacred in our love; and ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell of power and might.