"Yes, I can read it as fast as English." "Read it as fast as English!!" "Yes, as fast as English--and I didn't find it hard at all." "May I try you on a page?" "Try away, try away; that's what I've come for." "Please read here then, Mr. Rapid;" and in order to give him a fair chance, I pointed to the first lines of the first chapter, viz.: "In principio Deus creavit coelum et terram intra sex dies; primo die fecit lucem," etc. "That, sir?" and then he read thus, "In prinspo duse creevit kalelum et terrum intra sex dyes--primmo dye fe-fe-sit looseum," etc. "That will do, Mr. Rapid--" "Ah! ha! I told you so." "Yes, yes--but translate." "Translate!" (eyebrows elevating.) "Yes, translate, render it." "Render it!! how's that?" (forehead more wrinkled.) "Why, yes, render it into English--give me the meaning of it." "MEANING!!" (staring full in my face, his eyes like saucers, and forehead wrinkled with the furrows of eighty)--"MEANING!! I didn't know it _had_ any meaning. I thought it was a DEAD language!!" * * * * * Well, reader, I am glad you are _not_ laughing at Mr. Rapid; for how should anything _dead_ speak out so as to be understood? And indeed, does not his definition suit the vexed feelings of some young gentlemen attempting to read Latin without any interlinear translation? and who inwardly, cursing both book and teacher, blast their souls "if they can make any sense out of it." The ancients may yet speak in their own languages to a few; but to most who boast the honor of their acquaintance, they are certainly dead in the sense of Solomon Rapid. LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out! Onc't there was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rs-- An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs, His mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all! An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess; But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!