comprehension of Mrs. Earle drew her out and thawed at once and forever
the ice of acquaintanceship. Before she quite realized the extent of
this fascination she had promised to recite something, and as in a
dream, but with flushing cheeks, she heard the President rap the table
and announce "You will be gratified to hear that a talented friend who
is with us has kindly consented to favor us with a recital. I have the
honor to introduce Mrs. Lewis Babcock."

After the first flush of nervousness, Selma's grave dignity came to her
support, and justified her completely in her own eyes. Her father had
been fond of verse, especially of verse imbued with moral melancholy,
and at his suggestion she had learned and had been wont to repeat many
of the occasional pieces which he cut from the newspapers and collected
in a scrap-book. Her own preference among these was the poem, "O why
should the spirit of mortal be proud?" which she had been told was a
great favorite of Abraham Lincoln. It was this piece which came into her
mind when Mrs. Earle broached the subject, and this she proceeded to
deliver with august precision. She spoke clearly and solemnly without
the trace of the giggling protestation which is so often incident to
feminine diffidence. She treated the opportunity with the seriousness
expected, for though the Institute was not proof against light and
diverting contributions, as the whistling performance indicated, levity
of spirit would have been out of place.

"'Tis a twink of the eye, 'tis a draught of the breath
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death;
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,
O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"

Selma enjoyed the harmony between the long, slow cadence of the metre