Humorous Hits and how to Hold an Audience: A Collection of Short Selections, Stories, and Sketches for All Occasions

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Grenville Kleiser
Funk & Wagnalls, 1908 - 334 Seiten
In preparing this volume the author has been guided by his own platform experience extending over twelve years. During that time he has given hundreds of public recitals before audiences of almost every description, and in all parts of the country. It may not be considered presumptuous, therefore, for him to offer some practical suggestions on the art of entertaining and holding an audience, and to indicate certain selections which he has found have in themselves the elements of success. The "encore fiend," as he is sometimes called, is so ubiquitous and insistent that no speaker or reader can afford to ignore him, and, indeed, must prepare for him in advance. To find material that will satisfy him in one or in a dozen of the ordinary books of selections is an almost impossible task. It is only too obvious that many compilations of the kind are put together by persons who have had little or no practical platform experience. In an attempt to remedy this defect this volume has been prepared.

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Seite 311 - As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth : For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; and the place thereof shall know it no more.
Seite 311 - It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man...
Seite 270 - And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They come ! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering...
Seite 300 - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian." Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Seite 277 - O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill...
Seite 299 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Seite 270 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn, the marshalling in arms — the day, Battle's magnificently stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent. The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent.
Seite 270 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Seite 159 - Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, ' 'Twill soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth — When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And — as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see.
Seite 296 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...

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