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 ( 
 
THE 
 
 lilGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 AUTHORIZED FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC AND HIGH SCHOOLS 
 
 AND COLLEGIATE INSTITUTES OF ONTARIO BY THE 
 
 DEPAR'IMENT OF EDUCATION. 
 
 THE G. M. ROSE & SONS CO., 
 LIMITED. 
 

 S|^B£?'---^x^:5 
 
 TORONTO. ' 
 
 -^^o^v 
 
/ 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ■'-"^ one thousaud 
 ''^^/orOntano, 
 
 The selections in the Hi(;h Schooi, Rkader have liecn chosen with the be- 
 lief that to pupils of such iulvanccnient as is required for entrance into High 
 Schools and Collegiate Institutes, oral reading should Ixi taught from the Ijest 
 literature, inasmuch as it not only affords a wide range of thought and senti- 
 ment, but it also demands for its ai)i)ropriate vocal interpretation such powers 
 of sympathy and apjireciation as are developed only by culture ; and it is to im- 
 part culture that these insututions of higher learning have l)een established. 
 
 Experience has shown that it is from their ordinary leading books that pupils 
 obtain their chief practical acquaintance with literature, and the selections here 
 presented have Iwen made with this in remembrance. They have been taken 
 from the writings of authors of acknowledged representative character ; and they 
 have been arranged for the most part chronologically, so that pupils may un- 
 consciously obtain some little insight into the history of the development of the 
 hterary art. They have also been so chosen as to convey a somewhat fair idea 
 of the relative value and productivity of authorship in the three great ICnglish- 
 speaking conuuunities of the world— the mother countries, our neighbours' 
 country, and our own. 
 
 While a limited space, if nothing else, prevents the collection here made from 
 being a com])lete anthology, yet it does pretend to represent the authors seleif(Hl 
 in characteristic moods, and (in so far as is possible in a school book, and a 
 reading text-bcK)k)to present a somewhat fair perspective of the world of author- 
 ship. It may be siiid that, if this be so, some names are conspicuously absent : 
 McOee, Canada's poet-orator ;. Parkman, who has given to our country a place 
 in the portraiture of nations ; William Morris, the chief of the modern school of 
 romanticism ; Tyndall, who of the literature of science has made an art ; Lamb, 
 daintiest of humorists ; Collins, "whose range of flight," as Swinburne says, 
 "was the liighest of his generation." Either from lack of space, or from some 
 inherent unsuitableness in such selections as might otherwise have been made 
 it was found impossible to represent these names worthily ; but as thev are alf 
 more or less adequately represented in the Fourth Reader, the teacher who may 
 wish to correct the perspective here presented may refer his pupils to the pieces 
 from these authors there given. It may be added, too, that the body of recent 
 literature is so enormous, that no adequate representation of it (at any rate as 
 regards quantity) is possible within the limits of one book. 
 
 The selections in poetry, with but three necessary exceptions, are complete 
 wholes, and represent, as fairly as single pieces can, the respective merits and 
 styles of their authors. The selections in prose cannot, of course, lay claim to 
 this excellence ; but they are all complete in themselves, or have Iieen made .so 
 by short introductions ; and it is hoped that they too are not unfairly represen- 
 tative of their authors. In many cases they are of somewhat unusual length • 
 by this, however, they gain in interest and in representative character. 
 
IV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In some of tho prose selections, passages have occasionally been omitted, cither 
 because they interfered with the main narrative, or l)eeause, as they added no- 
 thing to it, to omit them would lie a gain of space. In most cases these omis- 
 sions are indicated by small asterisks. 
 
 AH the selections, both in prose and in verse, have been made with constant 
 reference to their suitablent-ss for the teachinj; of reading. 'I'hcy are Htlcd lo 
 exemplify every mode of expression, except, perhaps, that appropriate to a few 
 (if llie stronijiT jiassions. It is not pretended that they are all sinipli' and easy. 
 .\I,iny of them wit! require much study and preparatioi. bi-fore tiiey can be read 
 with that precision of expression which is necesicary to perfect intelligibility. The 
 chronological arrangement preelurles grading ; the teacher will decide in what 
 order the seU;ctions are to be read. 
 
 The introductory chapter is mainly intended to assist the teacher in imparting 
 to his pupils a somewhat scientific knowledge of the art of reading. Of course 
 the teacher will choose for himsi'lfhis mode of ({(-aling with the chapter, but it 
 has been written with the thought that he should use it as a convtinient series of 
 texts, which he miglu exjiand and illustrate in aeeordanee v.ith his ojiportunities 
 and judgiiienl. I'"xample,s for illustration are indispensable to tin; suicessfid 
 study of till' principles described, and they should be sought for and (obtained by 
 the teacher and pupils together (whenever possible they should l>e taken (rom 
 the Ri-.ADI'.k), and should W. kept latx-Ied for reference and practice. It the a])- 
 plication of these principles be thus ]iractically made by the ])upils tlieinscKes, 
 they will receive a much more lasting impression of their meaning and value than 
 if the examples were given to them at no cost of thought or searcli on tlu-ir [lart. 
 
 To the tiMcher it is reconmiended that he should not be contented with the 
 short and necessarily imperfect exposition of the art of reatling therein given. 
 The more familiar he is with the scientific principles the more successfully will he 
 be able to direct the studies and practices of his pupils. Works on elocution are 
 numerous and accessible. Dr. ^\xi\\% Philosophy of the I'oice \?, perhaps tho 
 foundation of all subsequent good work in the exposition of voice culture. Pro- 
 fessor Murdoch's Analytic Elocution is an exhaustive and scholarly treatise 
 based upon it, and to the plan of treatment therein fully developed the practical 
 part of the introductory chapter has largely conformed. 
 
 The pleasing task remains of thanking those authors who have so kindly re- 
 sponded to requests for permission to use selec'ions from their works : to Presi- 
 dent Wilson, for a sonnet from Sprint^ IViM Noses, and for Our Ideal ; to Mr. 
 Charles Sangster, for two sonnets from Hesperus ; to Mr. Jehu Reade, for two 
 poems from The Prophecy of Merlin ; to Mr. C^harles Mair, for the scenes from 
 Tecumseh; and to Professor C. G. D. Roberts, for To Winter. 
 
 To Miss A. T. Jones, thanks are due for permission to use Abigail Becker, 
 recently published in the Century Magazine. The heroic acts described in this 
 poem seem so wonderful, so greatly sujierior to woman's strength, even to hu- 
 man strength and endurance, to accomplish, that were it possible to doubt its 
 truthfulness, doubt one certainly would. Nevertheless the poem is not only 
 strictly in accordance with the facts, it is even within and below them. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 (The Titles of the Selections in Poetry are printed in Italics.) 
 
 KUMBEK. 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
 II. 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 TITLE. 
 King Solomon's Prayer and Hlessing at the 
 
 Dedication of the Temple Hoi.y R,blf 
 
 Invitation. „ „ " ' 
 
 Th. v • , o Holy BiHLE... 
 
 I he rrial Scene tn the "Men/uinf of 
 
 Venice." o... 
 
 Ofltoldness.... Shakkspeake. 
 
 To Dafodtls u^„ 
 
 VI r\e n . , Herkick 
 
 VL Of Contentedness m all Estates and Acci- 
 dents ™ 
 
 VJI. To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars. '. ] [ [ [ [ Lovelace 
 
 VIII. Anghng „, 
 
 TY /> ./ w Walton.. 
 
 IX. On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.. . Mil TON 
 
 Character of Lord Falkland Clarendon" ' 
 
 Vent, Creator Spiritus Dryden " ' 
 
 Lines printed under the Portrait of Milton. D:'.YDEN 
 
 /ceason -,^ 
 
 XIV On the Love of Country as a I'rinciple of "^^'''' 
 
 Action „ 
 
 XV The Golden Scales 7^^"^^ 
 
 XVI. Misjudged Hospitaiit;:.:;;;:::::::::::::^^;^ 
 
 XVII. I^rofn the ' ' Essay on Man:' . . Pnpp. 
 
 y^VWl. Rule, Britannia.. ^^^^ 
 
 XIX. Westminster Abbey.;; T"^;:^^^ 
 
 ^^.TheBard ^^^'''^' 
 
 VVT r^ . GSAY 
 
 AXI. On an Address to the Throne concerning 
 
 Affairs in America .... , -.. » ^ 
 
 XXII. From •' The Vicar of Wakefield " ^oi ,T "^ 
 
 XXIII. Meeting of Johnson with ^xZs Cwt^7" "^ 
 
 XXIV The Policy of the Empire in the Fi;;! Cen-' ^^ 
 
 tury 
 
 XXV On the Attacks upon'hh PenVion! ". ! ". ! '. \ " Burr '"' 
 
 XXV. Two Eighteenth Century Scenes .CowpER ''' 
 
 ^Vll. From ..The School for Scandal sher oan \% 
 
 PAon. 
 
 33 
 
 • 39 
 
 . 40 
 
 • Si 
 
 ■ 55 
 
 56 
 . 61 
 62 
 , 67 
 76 
 8i 
 82 
 83 
 
 83 
 
 93 
 96 
 
 lOI 
 
 I02 
 Itl 
 
vi 
 
 CONTENT!^. 
 
 NUMHKR. TITLK, AUTHOR. PACE. 
 
 XXVIII. The Cotter'': SntHniay Xight Hikns 171 
 
 XXIX. I'll,' I it ml o the Leal l.APY Naikn 177 
 
 XXX. 'I'lu' Trial by Coiubat at tlie Diamond of 
 
 thi- Di'st-rt Scott 179 
 
 XXXI. To a llighlaiul (Url WoKDSwoKTii 'J02 
 
 XXXII. Frame : tin (hie Coi.KRilxiK 205 
 
 XXXIII. Coinphnnt ami Reproof Coi.KRI1k;e 208 
 
 XXXIV. The Hell 0/ St. Keyne SouTllKV 209 
 
 XXXV. The Isles 0/ iireeee HvuoN 211 
 
 XXXVI. do where Clory Waits Thee MooRK 214 
 
 XXXVII. Dear Harp of My Country MooRK 215 
 
 XXXVIII. Come, ye Disconsolate M<K)RE 216 
 
 XXXIX. On a Lock 0/ Milton's Llair HCNT 2*7 
 
 XL. The Cil(nr and the Lions KUN r 217 
 
 XLI. The Cloud Shei.ley 2ig 
 
 XLII. On First LiK^king into Chapman's Hoi)ier. . Ke.VIS 222 
 
 XLIII. On the Grasshopper and the Cricket Keats 222 
 
 XLIV. The Power and Danger of i le Crt-sars De Quincey 223 
 
 XLV. Unthoughtfulness Dr. Arnold 227 
 
 XLVI. The Bridge 0/ Sighs Hooi) 234 
 
 XLVII. ./ Parental Ode to my Son Hoop 237 
 
 XI.VIII. Metaphysies Hai.ihurton 239 
 
 XLIX. Indian Summer Lover 246 
 
 L. To Helen Praed 246 
 
 LI. Horatius Macaulay 247 
 
 LII. The Raven. _\ ..... . .PoE 258 
 
 I:!!!- P^i^ia Swan— A Fantasy Hawthorne 262 
 
 LIV. My Rate Mks. Bkowninc . 270 
 
 LV. A Dead Rose Mks- Hrouninc . , 1271 
 
 LVl. To the F.venin^i \ I 'ind Brvan r 272 
 
 LVII. Death of tlie Protector Carlvle 274 
 
 LVIli. Each and All Emerson 282 
 
 LIX. Waterloo Lever 284 
 
 LX. The Diver Lytton 294 
 
 LXI. The Plague of Locusts Newman 299 
 
 LXI I. The Cane-bottom' d Chair Thackekay 306 
 
 LXIIl. The Reconciliation Thackeray 308 
 
 LXIV. The Island oj the Scots Aytoun 3^5 
 
 LXV. The (Gambling Party Peaconsfielo. ... 321 
 
 LXVI. The Pickwickians Disport themselves on Ice. Dickens 327 
 
 LXVII. The Hanging of the Crane Longfellow 336 
 
 LXVI 1 1. Earthworms Darwin 342 
 
 LXIX. " As Ships, Becalmed at Eve" Clough 346 
 
 LXX. Duty Clough 347 
 
Contents 
 
 171 
 
 •77 
 179 
 
 '_'02 
 205 
 208 
 20Q 
 211 
 214 
 
 215 
 216 
 
 217 
 
 217 
 
 219 
 
 222 
 222 
 223 
 227 
 
 ■^37 
 239 
 246 
 246 
 
 247 
 
 258 
 
 262 
 270 
 
 272 
 274 
 282 
 284 
 294 
 299 
 306 
 308 
 
 315 
 321 
 
 327 
 336 
 342 
 346 
 347 
 
 NUMBER. 
 
 I-XXI, Sonnets 
 
 TITLE. 
 
 LXXVIII, 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 LXXX 1 1 1. 
 
 LXXX IV. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
 ivvii ,, . ,. „ HEAVY.SK(iK.... 
 
 I XXU ■ W f ''^ '"' ''"^^'' ^'^-'^^ '^••ANI.KY 
 
 I vv ■ f^'''''"''>^'V<W/i-.,zr/ n-ind KiN.;s..KV . 
 
 1.XXV. r he Cloud Conjihfx Rossetti 
 
 LXX VI. Barbara Fnetckie Wm't 1 'ER 
 
 LXXVII. tW.;,/,«.«/ .'!.'."!!.*"'.'holmks. 
 
 I he Uri,„l, Constitution Glaustone.! 
 
 ^]'/o^\o/ nurleigk Tennyson..;;; 
 
 Break, Break, Break" Tennyson . 
 
 Tke -A'ez'en^re'- Ten.NYSon . . . . ' 
 
 f^'^"^^ Browning 
 
 .. ,. , Dk. V/ilson 
 
 Our Ideal r>„ -iir 
 
 ^ , ; Dr. Wilson 
 
 TVvvvT !!;■"'" 'he Apology of Socrates Jowett... 
 
 LAXXVI. 1 he Empire of the Caesars J^rci;ue 
 
 ^S^ZZX^^r^''''^'' ::::::kuskin.;;;;;:; 
 
 ^^^^;^-f^/^^'^:::::::::::::::::::;;;ii^;;---- 
 
 XCr' 1"'i ""nV MATT. Arnold:; 
 
 XCI. In the Onllta Woods Sangster 
 
 XCII. Morals and Character in the Eighteenth 
 
 Xni I „.^'^"*"'y • • • • GoLDwm Smith. 
 
 ACl V. Too Late . .„^ ,, 
 
 vrv ^ ,r ^. Mrs. Ckaik 
 
 aCV. Amor Mundt . . . ,,,,,. l, 
 
 v/-vr -r ■ . Miss Rossetti. , 
 
 XCVI. Foujours Amour STP-nvf vm 
 
 XCVII. England .. ^Steoman 
 
 XCVIII. A-...., . f^'^'^" 
 
 C Fhalutta / J^,,:Ua / j,,,.., ^^^^^,^^^ 
 
 f^T i jf;T '''''■'^'■" SWINBURNE.. '" 
 
 ill. A Ballad to Queen Elizabeth DoBsoN 
 
 cm. Circe.. " " 
 
 (-^^J e - DoBSON 
 
 CIV. Scenes from < • Tecumseh " Mair 
 
 CV. The Return of Uie Swall<yws ; ; ; ;Gosse 
 
 CVl. Dawn Aneels \n,^c -a 
 
 rvri /.. jy • £- /,^ ^'^s Robinson . 
 
 »-Vii. LeKoiEstMort Ar.o,. r. 
 
 CVIII. To Winter Miss Robinson. 
 
 /-TV AL- ■, ^ '. Roberts 
 
 CIA. Abigail Becker » » t 
 
 a ^t^LKnr ^j Jones. 
 
 PACK. 
 
 •• 349 
 
 • • 3SO 
 
 • • .154 
 
 • • 356 
 •• 359 
 . . 361 
 
 •• 354 
 
 • 367 
 
 ■ 370 
 
 • 373 
 
 ■ 373 
 
 • 378 
 
 • 383 
 
 • 383 
 
 • 384 
 
 • 389 
 
 • 390 
 
 • 397 
 . 400 
 > 401 
 
 408 
 
 409 
 
 412 
 
 416 
 
 417 
 
 418 
 
 419 
 
 420 
 
 420 
 
 421 
 
 422 
 
 424 
 426 
 426 
 437 
 438 
 439 
 440 
 
 443 
 
SHORT EXTRACTS. 
 
 FIRST LINES. AUTHOR. 
 
 He that cannot see well Racon 
 
 Stone walls do not a prison make Lovklace 
 
 When the heart is right Hkkkklkv 
 
 // mmt be si>— Plato, thou reasonest well AuuisoN 
 
 England, with all thy faults, I Iffvt thee still CoWHKR 
 
 Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast C'owPER 
 
 Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us Burns 
 
 Ufef we've been long together Mrs. Barbaulij. 
 
 Ro^gh win- ', that meanest loud Shelley 
 
 There is a booh, who runs may read Keble 
 
 There is no great and no small Emerson. 
 
 Wellington, Thy great work is but begun RossETTi . 
 
 Sacrifice and self-devovion Lord Houghton 
 
 Flower in the crannied wall Tennyson. 
 
 ltJortij1.es my soul to know Clough 
 
 And yet, dear heart i remembering thee Whit tier. 
 
 There is no land like England. Tennyson 
 
 The Summum Pulchrum rests in heaven above Clough 
 
 Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito Socrates 
 
 What kno7v we greater than the soul Tennyson 
 
 That is best blood that hath most iron in't. Lowell. 
 
 Sutn kings of shreds have woo'd and won her.,,, Alukich. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 • 54 
 
 87 
 9a 
 
 154 
 158 
 170 
 178 
 
 3l8 
 
 233 
 
 24s 
 
 293 
 
 320 
 
 366 
 
 369 
 
 372 
 
 377 
 
 382 
 
 388 
 
 407 
 
 411 
 
 4»9 
 
INDEX OF AiriHORS. 
 
 PA(;!C. 
 
 .88, 
 
 93 
 
 NAME, 
 
 Addison, Joseph . . 
 
 Al-OKICH. T„uMASBAiLEV.4rQ. 4ao 
 
 Ahnolu, Maithew *♦ ^ ^ " 
 Arnolo, Thomas. 1°* 
 
 54 
 178 
 
 321 
 f7 
 
 Aytou.v. Wm. Kdmonstoun... 
 
 Bacon, Lord (Francis) „ 
 Hakhauli), Anna L.+;titia 
 
 ^i«.ACONSFlKLD,Lo:„.(BKNJAMIN 
 l^ISRAELl) 
 
 Berkelev. Bishop (GEORGE)." ■■ 
 Bible, The Holv 
 
 BoswELL, James ^^' ^^ 
 
 Browning, Flizabeth Barre"tt "^^ 
 
 Browning. Robert ^^°' ""^l \ "kavvsege, Charles. 
 
 Bryant, William CuLLEN.WfL 
 Burke, Edmund..,. ^ 
 
 Burns, Robert ^'^^ 
 
 BVRON, Lord (George GokdS'^' 
 Noel). 
 
 PAOB. 
 
 ANS 
 
 ■•..356 
 245. aSa 
 
 NAME. 
 
 Kliot, Georok(Marian Ev. 
 Cross) 
 
 Emevson, Ralph Waldo. 
 •^KouDE, James Anthony.. . 
 
 CilBBON, KdwARD.... 
 
 (-lKA,«TONK, William' Ewart 
 t.JLDSMirH, Oliver.. 
 
 (iossK. Edmund William' .'■' .„ 
 
 <jKay, Thomas... "" ^^' 
 
 in 
 
 Haliburton, Thomas Chand- 
 
 3S<) 
 
 14a 
 
 367 
 X37 
 
 lej< 
 
 Hawthorne, Nathaniel.!"" Ill 
 
 263 
 349 
 
 55 
 364 
 
 211 
 
 2741 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas 
 
 Chatham, Lor,.(Wm.'p,;V). " V16 
 
 CLARENDON, LoRD. . . 
 
 Clough, Arthur HuGH.'.'.g^e'. ^ 
 
 C0.KRIOGE, SAMUEL tITlo?':' '"' 
 
 COWPER. WILLIAM... .54 2' ^8 
 CKA.K, DINAH MARIA MuloCK.' ^xfi 
 
 Darwin, Charles 
 i^E QomcEY. Thomas.'.'.". ;.*;."■ f!.^ 
 I^'CKENs. Charles. * "^ 
 
 DoBsoN, Austin. . ''',' ^''l 
 
 ""•'-''■ ioH.....:::::::,,Zt 
 
 Herrick, Robert. 
 Holmes. Oliver Wendell.' 
 Hood, Thomas.. ^" ' 
 
 Houghton. Lord' '('r;char?' '^^ 
 Monckvon Milnes) 
 
 Hume. David ^'^° 
 
 Hunt, Lk:gh '°^ 
 
 Ik ving. Washingto'n " " •••••• ^'Z 
 
 I02 
 
 Jones, Am.-.nda T 
 
 JowKTT. Benjamin ." .' .' ." .' . .' .* .' .' " " ^^ 
 
 Keats, John.. 
 
 Keble. John '.*.' I'''' 
 
 KiNGSLEv. Charles. .'.'.* ^ff 
 
 o54 
 
 Lever, Charles James 284 
 
 Locker. P^rederick 
 longkellow, 
 
 worth 
 
 Lovelace. RicHARo..' *. r." ^6r 
 
 Lover, Samuel " 
 
 Henry Wads- 
 
 400 
 
 a-r-i 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS 
 
 name. page. 
 
 Lowell, Jamks Russell . ..397, 411 
 Lyttun, Lord (Euvvakd Bul- 
 
 W'KR) 294 
 
 Macaulay, Lord (Thomas 
 
 Bahington) 247 
 
 M AIR, Charles 426 
 
 MrLTON, John 67 
 
 Moore. Thomas 214, 215, 216 
 
 Nairnk, Baroness (Carolina 
 
 OlIPHANT) 177 
 
 Newman, Cardinal (John 
 Henry) 299 
 
 I'OE, fcloGAx Allan 258 
 
 Pope, Alexander 96 
 
 Pkaed, WinthropMackworth 146 
 
 Reade, John 420, 421 
 
 Roberts, Cil^rles Geouc.e 
 
 Douglas 440 
 
 Robinson, A. Mary F 438, 439 
 
 Rossetti, Christina (jeorgina 417 
 
 RossETTi, Dante (lAURiEL, 293, 359 
 
 RusiiiN, John 390 
 
 NAMS. PAOB. 
 
 Sangster, Charlh" 408 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter 179 
 
 SHAKEinsARE, W.LLIAM 40 
 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe. . .218, 219 
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley. 159 
 
 Smith, Goldwin 409, 41a 
 
 SouTHEY, Robert 209 
 
 Stanley, Dean (Arthur Pen- 
 
 RHYN) 3S0 
 
 Stedman, Edmund Clarence. 418 
 
 Steele, Sir Richard 83 
 
 Swift, Jonathan 93 
 
 Swinburne, Algernon Charles 422 
 
 Taylor, Bishop (Jeremy) 56 
 
 Tennyson, Lord (Alfred) 366, 
 
 370. 373. 377. 407 
 Thackeray, William Make- 
 peace 306, 308 
 
 Thomson, James loi 
 
 Walton, Izaak 62 
 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf, 
 
 361, 372 
 Wilson, President (Daniel).. -83 
 WokuswoK iH, William aoa 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 essential: (i) A cultivated mind guick to n u"^ '^'° reouirements are 
 
 which the words to ^. read lolXe^TZ '^^r''-"- ^^ thoughts 
 syupathetically to appreciate the sentin'e^ wi'th wh T" "^ '"'"' '" ''' P"^^- 
 -the feeling, emotion, passion, which uev..^ ^°''^' '''' '"'"""^d 
 
 rather than actually portray • V, J/1h ^hen-but which they suggest 
 
 upon the ear of thehstene'r ^ h p lea ire;"^^ ':"' ''" '' ""-"-^.11 
 "•■nnnged skilfully to convey to him ITfuIl ! ' ""^ '" ^""'"'^ ^'^•'" " -"^ I- 
 and sentiments formally expressed hft/ T""'^ ""'^ '""'■'=" ^^ ^» 'he ideas 
 two requirements the fiiZ denial the m " '"'^"' '" "^^-- ^f these 
 ;" the art of reading in which tliZefp^ j ^nT LT"/' ''"' '^" '^'^'"'"^ 
 for us own sake has not proceeded M^T ""''"^ '^'^^ ^tudy of literature 
 the development of the powers of thf ^ Z '""' '^'' ''"^''''''^'^ ^^^rcises for 
 of vocal interpretation, harresulted n"'" ""' '" ^'"'^ "^ "^ P"-'P'e 
 illusive value. "''''^ '" ^ meretricious accomplishment of very 
 
 ^e^^ "^1";^ :^- ;2;^1^^^^^ of a num^r of individual 
 
 good reader. The ability quicwlto IT "'""" ^"^'"'^ '^ indispensable to a 
 with ease, to catch the drift of delVtndoT'r "7^"^--^ -^^ to utter them 
 «ovv in sentinient. is not to be'^lVw'hLra r '^''''"'^''^^^'^'^ ^^-^-- 
 readuig. No one can become a go^ render >"^ """ "' ''""''' "^^' ---• 
 "ow carefully, a set of reading text books met ^'^"."^ '""'^'^"' "" '"'^"'■'• 
 to read for themselves. Th.; should of ^ . "'"' "•°"'^' '^" "^"^ouraged 
 
 '•'-'in. 'natter, and they shol lb ' hel^rj "^ '"''^' '^ '"^"^ ■^^'-^'--'■ 
 I»'-st and n.ost helpful in literature bm.,nl '.""" " '"''' *"'" ''^''^' ^^'"'^h is 
 - Of .eading thought., and with :;: -S: ^1:^^ '^ t--- 
 
 of their delicate mechanir n^ L ::XT''"' "'' ^^"■^'"""'^'^ "" '^^ --'<'»^' 
 -stently read aloud. A practi" of'tS o^^ rtTM^ '"" ^"''" ''""""' I- 
 able degree of self-discipline in the o rect on T ''"""'''' ^'"' =^ '"""""- 
 
 not alone in obtaining a mastery of thlre , "" "' *""'"""- "^ helpful 
 
 -equally beneficial^as a P ysL: tc"^ "ft"^',,"!' '" '"'^"^^^' -''"--it 
 efficacious of good, both .^ nund and of L ' '''''''"'' '"^ "'"^•'' '"ore 
 
 those principles of voice culture and of vof ''""■'"'* '" accordance with 
 and special study have establ hed '"'erpretation. which experience 
 
xu 
 
 IJVTA'ODrcrOA'V. 
 
 But only a small proportion of all the reading thiit is done, is oral reading. 
 It is J77f«/ reading that is universally employed as an instrument ot study, of 
 business, of amusement. As a rule, however, very little provision is made for 
 the acquirement of a facility in silent reading ; this, it is thought, will result as 
 a by-product of tlie regular training in oral reading. Almost the reverse of this 
 is true. Ease and flexibility of articulation, quickness in catching thu drift of 
 ideas, and readiness in varying the tones of the voic; in the utterance of words 
 so as impressively to portray their latent sentiment, — all this is possible with 
 those alone to whom difficult word-forms, complex sentence-structures, and the 
 infinite variety and play of thought and emotion, are more or less familiar 
 through such a wide range of reading as only the silent prosecution of it makes 
 possible. 
 
 The art of oral reading, however, though not so generally needful as silent 
 reading, is still of great importance to everyone in respect of its practical utility 
 simply, — though few of those whose duty it is to read aloud in public, do so 
 either witli accuracy or grace ; as an accomplishment which may be used to 
 give pleasure to others, it is, when perfectly possessed, not excelled by any 
 other ; so that as an acquisition which puts one in a [losition of vantage either 
 for benefitting one's se'f or for bestowing delight or benefit upon others, it is 
 worth every necessary struggle for its attainment. 
 
 One of the most valuable result? of oral reading when systematically pursued 
 as a school study, is the effect which it has in improving the tones of the voice 
 for ordinary conversation and discourse, and in securing some measure of 
 orthoepy as a li.\ed habit of utterance. Conversational speech is notoriously 
 slovenly. I'he sonority of our vowels is lost, and their distinguishing qualities are 
 obscured ; and with unnoticed frequency our consonants are either dropped or 
 amalgamated with one another. Yet, while amendment in these matters is to 
 be striven for, there is nothing Jlhat the teacher who wishes to establish habits of 
 orthoejiy has to be more wjitchful in guarding against, than bestowing upon 
 his pupils an affected or mincing utterance, all the more ludicrous and objection- 
 able, it may be, in that a certain set of words are pronounced with over-nicety, 
 while almost all others are left in a state of neglected vulgarity. 
 
 'loo frequently the study of oral reading is pursued with reference solely to 
 the prospective public use of the art in the decltimation of prepared passages ; 
 and the elocution-master's science has been brought into some discredit by wide 
 discrepa..oies between the performances of his pupils in their well-drilled and 
 often hackneyed selections and tlicir ability to read imfamiliar pieces at sight. 
 It is quite true that voice culture is greatly aided by tlie close study and frequo!it 
 rendering of selections suitably chosen for tlie elocutionary difliculties which 
 they present ; but it should never be forgotten that good reading, the sort of 
 reading which the schoolmaster should above all else endeavor to make his 
 pupils proficient in, implies the ability so to read a plain account, a story, an 
 oration, a plsy, or w^at not, (zi '^ight, with absolute wirrectness .15 to prnnimci.-i- 
 tion, with such clearness of articulation and appropriateness of sentence utter- 
 ance as will moke it perfectly audible and intelligible to one's auditors, and with 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 . xiii 
 
 n.oreover. to do all this with l' sure to on ^^ ""' ^P"' °^ ''^^ P^- .-and 
 self. Now as con.paratively few "a Jrs are ' " '"^ ^""^ ^^^ '^ -- 
 
 and as in the 'K.n,e-circle everyone outh to r T •"'^"■"' '° ^""^^ '" P^^'C 
 " the teacher of elocution is to LZ „ ^rn ^ ", '■' """ ''^' ''^^ «^^^ ^"'^ 
 "^ reading as is appropriate- to sn,a Tdien e 'if I ""'"T' °^ -'^'^ ^ "^ty,: 
 "in'ortunuy, to extend and an>plifv the prl ice ^f ' " ''" ""'''' ''"'^' ''"^ 
 
 c.'pabie of fuller n.asterv of it „ ap,>e, be^ ' ' '° "' "^ '^^ ^"^'' ^ ^^e 
 •^11 voices are capable of l„.i„„ n.uch mnr f'"'"''"'" ^"^"^•"^'^''- ^"r 'h'^'gh 
 
 - adapted to :he re.uiren.e^rora r^^.r""^'' ^""'^•^'^-"- ^^ ""ly cf! 
 "<;n vvhich should be devoted to the 1 c'kH o .'"T ' T' ''^' ""^" "'^ ^"- 
 advantage ,„.rely „f „,, ,•,,, '^'"^''' "^ "" ^'><>ulcl not be spent for the 
 
 .":-;:=:t-^^^^^ culture and the .tain- 
 
 l".-sued by all in co.nn.on. That .10,11,^ '""^'"P'"^''^""" ^-"'^nd. n.ny l,e 
 '- orator, is a n.ore extended, and 1 ^ "'"""' '" ''" P'"'"^' -''1- 
 practice. ''"^' P*-"'-^''-^- ^ more earnest and thoughtful 
 
 tl.e latter necessari.; inc. e^ ^^:^:'::T7't'" T' '"""^^^ "^'^ ^'^'y ^>^ 
 •-tary principles of voice cui':^^^^^:^^ "'^ ^f '''''"'''' "-''- 
 ca^on in the nuernretation of thought'andt t nt^^^'""^''^ ^""' "'^"•^ ^''P"" 
 With respect both to articulation „ul .. 
 
 IToperties there are. of course. n>any n'^d^" ' / ' l'''''^'"^'^- Of these 
 every tone that it utters, nuxnifest itseuTn ! T"""' ''"' '^"^ '''''"' "^"-^t. in 
 
 the possibility of infinite choici he w y oTL^^^ T'^' °^-<^h ; and i. is 
 
 vocal expression its infinite possibimy ^Irt; n?'"^ '" T"''' ^^'^' *--- to 
 w.n be best understood, however, if fhe eT ^neV.i I ''"""P''' °^ ^'"'^^ ^"'ture 
 Quality has reference to the Wof L^ ' " considered separately. 
 
 roughness, sonority or thinness. IsrcalnessTh'" T''^'' °' '^^ -oothness or 
 completeness of its vocality """'^'"^^« °^ harshness ; also in respect of the 
 
 ^y'iablcs (either as to the^oitw o '^Tl^f '' "Vf ^^""^^ '" ^'"^"^ ' .n^^ 
 a.s descriptive of the prevail ig Zne orL^. Ich ^ """''^"'^^'>- "•• ^-"---^"v. 
 a sentence or passage. '' '"'^'"^ "''^ ^°'^«^ assun.es in reading 
 
 Force has reference tn tu^ ^ 
 
 voice a„ u„„ed. W„ ^ trHsTd r.r'V"" ^'■■"' "^ -™* '^ *« 
 whole „r i„ pan, „ „ ,p„,,„ ou^.';*'',;" "'•' -«""« of .ingle syllables. i„ 
 
 "Me is rate of uttemnrp t. • 
 and to Phrases, sent^^ J^ ■::^-^'; -'^-ce both to sin,-e syllable, 
 sometimes called Quantity in dt T5n X> "" '''^''''^ ^° ^'"^le syllables it is 
 or pauses and rky^A^s. ^" «^°ns'derat.on of time may be included thl^ 
 
xiv INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Abruptness has reference to the relative suddenness with which syllables may 
 be uttered. It may vary from the most delicate opening to a forcible explosion 
 Vocality depends upon respiration. All exercises, therefore, which are ettect- 
 ive in increasing the vigor. freecU.m. and elasticity of the breatinng apparatus, 
 maybe taken as iniiiatory steps in voice culture; and. in moderation, they 
 should be practised continually. Full, slow inspirations, followed by slow am . 
 as far as possible, complete expirations ; full, quick inspirations similarly fol- 
 lowed ■ full inspirations followed by sudden and forcible expirations ; full, deep 
 inspirations, followed by slow, slightly but distinctly audible expirations, as m 
 deep sighing ; these and simflar practices may be pursued. What is to tDe 
 aimed at is to secure complete control of the breath, especially to the degree 
 that with perfect deliberateness. it can be equably and smoothly effused. 
 
 In all exercises where vocality is required it is best/nv^ to use the sound of a, 
 as in far. for in this sound the quality of the human voice is heard in most per- 
 fection. and in uttering it the vocal organs are most flexible and most easily 
 adapt themselves to change. It may be preceded by the aspirate k, or by -onie 
 consonant, as may be thought necessary. 
 
 In effective speaking or reading, with respect to the abruptness and rapidity 
 of expiration there are three modes of utterance : the effusive, by which the 
 voice is poured forth smoothly and equably, the expulsive and the explosive. 
 Of these three mudes the effusive is by far the most important, but the others. 
 and especially the expulsive, have their uses also. These modes will l>e illus- 
 trated in the following exercise : 
 
 Exi.KCiSK.-i. After a full and deliberate inspiration let the expiration of the 
 cknint /be gently effected, until the lungs are exhausted f'^^^''^^ 
 coming iron, the very depths of the throat. Let this be repeated with the sylla- 
 ble hah. audibly whisix.Ted. This is effusive nimAncc. „i,.„„.nt h 
 - After a f u 1 and deliberate inspiration let the expiration ot the t''l«'"^" « 
 be^'sudcenly eltected. the expiration being continued until the wli.sper.ng sound 
 vanishes in the bottom of the- throat. I ,et this be repeated with the syllable hah, 
 Miirlililv whisoercd. This is ^-.r/z/AvTr utterance. . . 
 
 LeuKxercise be the same as in (2) except that the expira lon is to be 
 much more forcibly effected, and completed almost mstantaneously. I his is 
 explosi-c'c utterance. 
 
 In the cultivation of the voice either one of two ends is generally kept in 
 view-its improvement for speaking or its improvement for singing ; but pro- 
 gress may l)e made towards both ends by the same study, and those exercises 
 which benefit the singing voice benefit the speaking voice, and vice versa. J he 
 distinction between speaking tones and sinking tones should be '^'■<^>^ ""^^'>- 
 stood. Musical tones are produced by isochronous (equal-timed) vibrations of 
 the vocal organs continued for some length of time. Hence, a musical tone is a 
 ,u>te, which mav be prolonged at will without varying in pitch, either up or 
 down. A speaking tone, on the contrary, is produced by vibrations which are 
 net i.ochrnnnus ; it is not a note, properly so called, and can not be prolonged, 
 without varying in pitch. Musical tones are discrete.-xh^ voice passes from 
 pitch to pitch through the intervals silently. In speaking, every lone, however 
 Short the time taken in uttering it, passes from one pitch to some other through 
 
syllables may 
 )le explosion, 
 ch are eft'ect- 
 g apparatus, 
 eration, they 
 by slow, and, 
 similarly foi- 
 ls ; full, deep 
 rations, as in 
 /hat is to be 
 to the degree 
 ffused. 
 
 le sound of a, 
 i in inost pcr- 
 d most easily 
 h, or by-ome 
 
 and rapidity 
 by which the 
 
 he explosive. 
 
 jut the others, 
 5 will Ix; illus- 
 
 piration of the 
 the aspiration 
 with the sylla- 
 
 the element h 
 lispering sound 
 le syllable hah, 
 
 liration is to be 
 ously. This is 
 
 nerally kept in 
 iging ; but pro- 
 ihose exorcises 
 ice versa. The 
 1 clearly iinder- 
 >d) vibrations of 
 uusical tone is a 
 di, either up or 
 Uions which are 
 3t be prolonged, 
 )ice passes friiiu 
 7 lone, however 
 ne other through 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 XV 
 
 an interval concretely, that is, with continuous vocality • thou^rh with r. 
 one another, speech syllables, like notes in .nusic, are di^c'rete lli'l m Z"" '" 
 pl.h..-dbv uttering the words, ■• W here are you, Z,Tt\- "^'-^ 7^^' ^^^•^'"- 
 they may be uttered on the same note o^^n H,^ f ^^'"^^ '''"'" '^'''^'" 
 
 passage through the various in-rvals / /^ ^r '''"''""' '^" '^""^"''^''^ 
 
 syllable and Losvllahic JJ.S..vl /t'TT/'''""''"' '^ '^'"'^ 
 
 ture has mainly to do "iterance tliat joicc cul- 
 
 «ona,c uttorancc- ,he interval. ,„av l„ .-rea^; K," '" """ " '""'■ 
 
 noun .^'•■b,. „,,,,,.,,„„,„„,„, ,,^^«^J»^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 interval will Ix; the result t-j, > T surprise , a concrete with a rising 
 
 "ft«r ,l,c. pr„„oa„ wi.l, ■„„ .a„,c in.cn' y of Li ^ ^'f"™ '"■"'"'"•"'y 
 
 «i.l. » plaintive e.„re.io„, c„„.:::S t^' * ,' I:;::;;';*;' ''-"-f 
 n.«.ce,,ble ; bu, i, will be abo noticed tha, with respect lot , "^ "'' 
 
 Lies are diseretoly uttered, jus, as in the s=,^ten",^^he e ZT , '"'" 
 were much greater. concrete intervals 
 
 ^■-es are ut.erei with t^::?:/: : 3 ^'^rrm',"' ""■ 
 i/,j,. tha i !,»„ Lriu." i!:rrT" '"■" '>■""* "> «^"'* ■» 
 
 that in plain.ive hn^„Z7h\lZ ' '""" '" '°"' ■ »"" '""I"--''. 
 
 ."»/* only b thauhe . ,„de t? " "'" """1 '°"""''' """ '"••'™'» "' » 
 discrete. "* °' ?''■'?"'»« f™ ¥»!? t» syllaWc- is slill 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 \ \ 
 
 .Sometimes, but rarely, syllables arc uttered trcmtdously, or with a tremor; 
 that is, with constituent intervals of less than a semitone', uttered discretely in 
 rapid succession, and passing, in the aggregate, through an interval of more or 
 less wid tl). An exaggerated form of this utterance may be heard in the neighing 
 of a lM)rse. 
 
 KXKR( isE.— I. Utter the syllable pa as a concrete, with rising and falling 
 mt.Tvals. severally, of a mond, third, fifth, and an octave; also with intervals 
 ot a semitone ; also with a tremor. Let the exercise be varied so as to include 
 many degrees of initial pitch. Use a diagram of a nuisicMl staff for reference. 
 
 2. Read with exaggerated impiessiveness, "Am I to be your slaie f" *' No I" 
 
 In the pronunciation of the letter a, as in fate, two soiiiuK art; heard: tne 
 first is that of the name of the letter, which is utteretl with some degree of ful- 
 ness ; the second is tliPt of c in mete, but, as it were, taix-ring and vanishing ;— 
 in the meantime the %-oice traverses a rising interval <jf one tone, that is, of a 
 second. The utterance of these two sounds, although the sounds themselves 
 are distinct, is completely continuous, from the ful' 7',ening of the one to the 
 vanishing close of the other, and it is impossible to say where the first ends and 
 where the last Ix-gins. It is essential, however, to consider them separately, 
 riie first is called the radical movement, and the second the vanishing 
 movement ; and these together constitute the entire concrete. 
 
 -All the vowels do not equally well exemplify in their uncnmrcii d/stinetion 
 of sound in their radical and .anishing movements, because some vowel sounds 
 are less diphthongal than others, and some, again, are pure monfjjDhthongs ; 
 but///w t7i>o movements and th, 'nerete variation of pitch, the result of one 
 impulse of the voice, are the essential structure of every syllable, and are char- 
 acteristic of speech-notes as contradistinguished from those of song. 
 
 When the radical and vanishing movements are effected smoothly, distinctly, 
 and without intensity orH^motion, commencing fully and with some abruptness, 
 and terminating gently and almost inaudibly, the result is the equable concrete. 
 This of course may be produced with intervals, either upward or downward, 
 of any degree— tone, semitone, third, fifth, or octave. It must be said, how- 
 ever, that some syllables, and even some vowels, lend themselves more easily 
 than others to that prolonged utterance which is essential to the production 
 of wide intervals and the perfectness of the vanishing movement. 
 
 The equable concrete is the natural, simple mode of utterance ; but under the 
 influence of interest, excitement, passion, and so on, the utterance of the on- 
 crete may be greatly varied from this by means of stress, or force applied to 
 some part or to all of its extent. The different variations may be described as 
 follows : 
 
 ( 1 ) Radical Stress, where force is applied to the opening of the concrete. ( It 
 should be said that a slight degree of radical stress is given even in the equable 
 concrete, producing its full, clear opening. ) 
 
 (2) Loud Concrete, where force is applied throughout the whole concrete, the 
 proportion of the radical \o. the vanish remaining unaltered. 
 
 (3) Median Stress, where force is applied to the middle of the concrete, pro- 
 ducing a swell, or impressive fulness 
 
 I I 
 
(1 the vanishing 
 
 /NTRODircTORy 
 
 xvii 
 
 (4) Compound Streaa uhcn- t..i-,.,. ;. 1 ■ 
 .'«.r. ,.mv ..,„„,,'• ' """ '- '"'"'"•'' "■ "" "■"«"■■>! *Bre,. „. .,,,h 
 
 c|j^,^r::;,r^i,:r^r- '» - -.. 
 
 lor u. .U..U .... ,.„„„ ,„ „„ - a^ ^™.. "j;! -V. _^.,u. .,^^_, 
 
 ..»,„„ of ,;::"''^,:r 'utrr: ;i..t:'''';:;'':^ ■"" "^"' ""«•"' "^ » 
 
 movement s continued into -i ri>.in r ""^ei-twave, (2) uliero a falling 
 
 Vyaves n.a, pass tln-on^T vilr^^f J'^r k' ^H.:: ^T^ "^^^ 
 
 ^v•lu.re the voiee in both n.en.lx.rs jx.sses 1 wh tl^^^'^^ ^ 
 
 un.,.nl, where in one flexion the interval r^b^^ " """'"' ' ""' <^> 
 
 in the other. travel bed by tlie voice is greater than 
 
 ^^^':^^^^:;!:^s^^£, ^S'^^^ ss;^^— . with 
 ^^yX::^^:^^:::^ ^-n ;^"f '>^"^^- -^-'-y -e of per^ct 
 
 they may be uttc^r. luiM, '''"'' ^"' """""S:'' all the intervals of pitch • 
 
 cai^bie :/;::;^:. 2 ^z^^zz ^" ^'^^ -^'^^^ ^'---^ ^ -^^^ ^'"- 
 
 tiun of the vanishing niovemer Z^Z^;::;' P-fect exe.np.ifica- 
 
 in .//<// ^^ as in err; I, as in ^re ■ I as in rZ' ■ - . '' '''' "" ^''' ^' ''^'^ 
 
 in 0.U; u, as in use; U, as in .J'- L- L n "' '' '" '''''' '' ''^^ '" '""' ^' ""^ 
 
 ou, as in .«.. (The e are v^ iot'^nv^ .f •" ""' "' '" '"''''" ^^■' ^^ '" '^^^ • 
 
 \ nere are vaiious uays of arranging and classifying these ) 
 
 ^^^^^i^^^r^^^S^ 'oud concrete, radical 
 
 sharpopenings. and with graduall^SSu^S ^JS^I^^S Jt tS 
 
 - (as in .aoej, tk (as in tken), .U (as . in <^.^J ^^^liZ^''^ '' ''' '' '' 
 Mdered not elementary), /. ;;, n n<r(ns in uJ ! ^ f^^ ' ^ '°'"" "=""■ 
 
 They can not. without ^..t ^^on ^.^h 7' ' k^'' '" "'"^' ""^ '^ <'^^ '"/"'"V- 
 capable of much radical f^i ne^ I n f 7 ''"''' ''^'"'"^' ''^"'^ "" ''^'•^ "«' 
 
XVIII 
 
 LVTRODUnVh'Y. 
 
 \l 'I 
 
 «;n^H ^h V '■■ '*"' \'""' ""' "'"^'y- '""^ '•''■''''h from the rest of the 
 
 word the obscure murniur heard in pronouncing the first letter : this is the u^b- 
 torn, represented by h. Utter this sound with chfferent degrees of initial pi ch 
 and with d.fk-rent nuervals. both downward and upward Produce as fC an 
 operi.ng of the radical movement as possible, but do not a.;.nipt to give 
 much stress. C btam m every case a distinct vanish. W- careful not to ctnvert 
 he subtotiic mto a ton.c. I'roceed in a sin.ilar manner with the other sub- 
 ton.cs. I hen distinctly obtaining the subtonics. unite them severally with the 
 sound of «, first forcibly then more gently, producing such syllables as bd, d,i, 
 eta. which may Ik- rendered with upward and downward intervals, and with 
 different degrees of mitia pitch. Kinally. with such syllables as M, ad, </V. av 
 etc., exemi)lify all the varieties of stress. ^ 
 
 The Atonies correspond with the first eleven of the subtonics as given above, 
 from which they differ almost alone in having fio vocality. They are/ f k f, 
 s. h, wh (as in ,,he„), th (as in thin), sh, and </> (as in c/nhf, by soin.> co.lsidered 
 not elementary). 
 
 EXKRCISF..— I. Form a list of such words as pipe. Me, kick, fife, f/u etc 
 
 d?en f'Hin:i"r'r "'^•'" ^'"^^'X' ^0''""^ ''^e fim/elenu^t for /fj'/.me i. and 
 then letting the breath escai)e suddenly ; then, holding the initial letter try 
 for a moment let ,t come forcibly against the sound of the remainder o e 
 word, producing an abrupt opening, and radical stress of the vowel concrete 
 2. Aspirate strongly the atonies as given above. i-oucreic. 
 
 ExKRcrsK RixAPiTULATORY.-i. Produce the syllable Ai in an articulate 
 
 wUh ''';!" h" " !'?' ^"^"■'-'"^ '-'^"^^'■^^ °f P'^^h' '"''^^^•^J- and stress 2 kJS 
 stl^S ^y"/^^.'«^a''Af' ■A'".^./«>^. etc. 3. Utter these syllables (i)expu 
 sively, (2)explosively. with varying intervals both upward and downwa d d 
 producing distinct and clearly attenuated vanishes. \ Select some ms sage of 
 poetry involving passionate thought, and read in articulated whispe s with 
 appropriate intonations, somewhat exaggerated, it may be. Let the inter^ls 
 ar.d stresses be slowly and distinctly gwen. 5. Repeat the exercise in a half 
 whisper. 6. Next read the passage over several times in pure vocality wihou 
 exaggeration, increasing the strength of the utterance until it is as fullm d 
 rmgmg as possibl, Care must be taken that the utterance is in realitv full and 
 ringing, not sharp and hard. Let the pitch chosen 1h.> not too high-4is low as 
 
 fhroat ' '" '°"''' ''°""' "''"'"'^ ^'■°"' ^'''' ""^^^^ ''"^ '"^^'' P*"^^' "f the 
 
 Note. -In all the exercises care should be taken that thev be performed 
 easily and naturally, with perfect deliberation and without undue force ; else 
 they will be harmful rather than useful. 
 
 ExERcisK IN Concrete Intervals Continued.— i. Read with aDoronri 
 ate intonations : ■■ Did you say a, as in alir~" No, I sat^t alinZ^^-l 
 producmg ,n the emphatic syllables suitable rising or falling intervals oi one 
 tone. Then repeat, but with greater emphasis, producing intervals of a third, a 
 o ww[ ''" Tr^- Y^^'y '''•-* sentences so as to include all the tonic elements 
 2. With each tonic element severally, produce first a rising and then a falling 
 mterval each of a tone ; then intervals of a third, a fifth^nd an octave ? 
 Extend the exercise so as to produce with each element, and with all the various 
 intervals, a series or succession of rising and falling intervals, thus : risine fall- 
 Sion Sr-S/£n£. '''' "" '''' backboard and the musical scale fo"^' illus- 
 
 Syllables vary greatly in their capacity for prolongation, and in this respect 
 are classified into immutable, mutable, and indefinite. 
 
TMTROnuCTORY. 
 
 d in this respect 
 
 _ Xl'v 
 
 Immutable Syllables in- iim 
 
 ^^'"^•'' '".1 i ..I .1... aLn.,;, . ,',1!'";''"''''" "' '"•"'""^"'"■"n : t'>,.y are .hose 
 
 one of .,.., ahr„,.t sul.tonie H. ^ i 'r'^' 'i ' ''' ^'^ ">' '"• '"'^ '^ '" 
 «•'"'. '>y vinu.. of tonic or sul. o„"ic .V. .. , r^' "^^ '^^ ""* ^>"'""- "'^«' - 
 I'l- of so.,,. prolo„«a.io„ . f ' "" ^''"^■'' "'"> '"^'y -"-■••, arc ca,,a. 
 
 T-'-arccalVviMitabi^Syllables' '■' '""''•'""• '''""' ^'■''' ''-"^ .^-l^i^ 
 
 .-■'"r ^r r ■ ;- r t i;:;;:;;r ^"^^'«'"''- — -" ^ -^ a. 
 -sy..auc;jr:;,"::r^:::;::.:;r-" --^ -e of e^rccorc. 
 
 As l.as hce» remarked before , r ' ^ " "'"""'i"^'- 
 
 ^' '•'•'"-" I"-t,ce i„ ti.e accural c'mci^'^ T '"""'" '■""'" ""^ ••"'"•"-■»'• 
 ='»-•-«-' a hahu of wa.c,.fu.„::^:^::,^^;^ ''7' ^'"'"'^"'^ ''^ ^-- 
 are n.ost eas.ly obscured, i„ all words i , jch ^ " "''' "' '"""^ ^^'-^" 
 
 "ot a resonant, sonorous utterance wi h L ^ 'u "!: T''^ T'" ^""" ^'-'^•"^•^' '^ 
 correct J.ronunciation. Hut the corn.ct in , ''""^"'•^' ^' ''^''o*' --^ 
 
 tonic, and especially of d.e atonic 1 1 ^ "' ''■•""""-■"'*«» of the sub- 
 
 '" i-ITli... words, i^ con.;. " ^r^Hoii^^" '"' 7"' '^^ '^ ^'^ ^«i-"' 
 •n this respect, as a /.././. cannot be secnr "^^'.V^'^'^^'"''''^''-' ' -"» orthoepy. 
 i>ractice. For exan.ple. ihe 1 d ^X s r.^.^"' f^" — 'ul .ncessani 
 -eryone as if it were spelled ...1 The " '^'""f ^ P-nounced by ahnost 
 n.aterial to begin with ; other lis s^;ou[n "^ '"'' '"'" '''''''''''' ^^ '" ^iford 
 
 /V/.M. 6ii,,e, sphere, skrelZt, ^ ^'"''.^''■'-'^ ^' ">^" '-■a-'''''-- 
 
 '''^"'^^^'^--^-^!--^^^^^ whispers ; 
 
 another. Every sentence falls na uraHv i 1 '"T'^'^'^ ^"''"'■^'^ f-"' °"« 
 
 con.posed of words related in s^l" 4 'for'^""''" "" '""^'''' ^^™"'- '-'"g 
 ;--'^ .roup should be /..///«.." or^ldt^uTT ^^'"''^^'"^ "'--^^s o'f 
 O^m' upon a midnight dreary while /^ f 1 "^ ''^''''"J^'^' '" ^^e hne. 
 
 naturally three groups ; in the "inr rl "^ /f f "'^'^^ ''"'' «'-':>'- 'he- are 
 "atone. In these groups he tennint ' f f "'''-^"''^'^^^"-■'^' 'Nereis 
 the initi.-,! ..,,,,.A „f ,,, ^ ^^ termnial sound of each word i<: irr^Hip^..^ u i- 
 
XX 
 
 f^'ThU)l)ircr()h'Y. 
 
 [If 
 
 "^ I 
 III 1^ 
 
 'fiP t.-rnunal .•I,.||„.nt i. -, « 
 
 1 ha sjH'akinff voice like ,h.. .■ • ''"''^'"■'l '"terpretation. 
 
 consitlCTal)leran.r..,,f. •. i -^'"^''"ff voice, is capable of ,.». 
 
 J I'e mechanism of the voice i. v " ''^"''"^- 
 
 -■■■•■— "■-•^ 
 
'" ""t 1.^ accompa. 
 '"''• I'rolon^-Mi^ il„. 
 'f iIk- tiMirnii.il ..|,-. 
 ''"'^■"It «(. proilutv. 
 
 ^>y tlu' nnirniurintf 
 asiiioii wliici, tliey 
 fur the utUTance, 
 
 -oirpont-nt words 
 "'•Sflvfs are often 
 "i^t-- of ,|,e vocal 
 J form the ojx'ii- 
 ' "le niurnuiriiig 
 
 ''<i//rrr 7Vfi,;/ /„ 
 
 f/ion hi ,/,urt>e 
 
 *ight siicfssion 
 
 , like exactness 
 y. or other dis- 
 ^ntained in tl)e 
 •• "1 coninion- 
 r otiier refine- 
 i impassioned 
 
 lice through a 
 taves ; i„ Je^^ 
 ■'^'■ted by |)ad 
 1 utterance is 
 ^ort- 'I'Jiese 
 
 ^^o/e of the 
 "e vocality. 
 
 inunciation, 
 
 own appro- 
 
 lind. Pure 
 
 in adults, 
 
 INTRODUCTORY, 
 
 xxi 
 
 »H. Obscured by in,puritie "nd ti-ir t "" ■ "'"^ ^"^ ^'""'^ ^«"'^'' '"«/ 
 
 defective enundation t nu;. V "" d.mmished or destroyed by 
 
 .ers should .^^ ! ;„t ^^' '^h'"" '"'T""."' '°"" "^^ '^^"^ ^^^'■ 
 f. a.>ove. should alvvav be such , u the ""'"" '''^'. °' ""^^•'"'^''" ^^'^^-^ 
 d.her fron. the head or fr^n th e, '"^ ; 7. T^! '"" ""^ '"' "^"''"^■^•" 
 tH-st effects both of reading .nd ,^ or , ' "^ '"■"'*"""'' '■"■"'•'^- ^"^ 'he 
 
 ^•rred. since, as cotHpar^dV^h::; ^'t ;r "::^^^ T^ " ^ ''^'^- 
 with greater resonance and ^>enetrutin^r Dower^nr f *-' P""""^"""'' 
 
 of tin.e, with greater ease- to the speltr '"' cons.derable length 
 
 All tones of the human voiw wli.-tiw... .„ i • 
 
 I-.., or „f .he c„c«, arc -PoT i.ft " nl^f X^jS' '"""'" "' ""^ 
 is also usod more cciiT ,llv in „.f '"'"'W. or timbre, ,i„,| ,he ,c„r 
 
 THe quality of the "^'lii^r^i^g^.;^;::;:;:^:::-;- - -— 
 
 us cultivation and in.proven.ent that the gre.tesf efthr; f ' ''"'' " " "^^^ 
 •h- spent. Pure voice is usually spoken ot'"st't^if!' *:' T^^' ^'^-'" 
 the natural and the orotund. ^ ">anifested m two qualities, 
 
 Natural QuaUty may be described as a head tone to whi.h 
 resonance is given by the chest ; but the brili;l7of ts ^.nlT n'T 1 
 by .ts reverlx.-ration against the bony arch of the mouth ' ' "'^"'^ '^ pnnluc.cl 
 in pitch, but tones of low pitch that are mended t' ,/' ""^' '^^.'^""'•■^^- -ry 
 suitably rendered in orotunr nuahtv n it .1 K ^ ""press.ve are most 
 
 quality Should be clear, rinjin^l^h! ^^^.^ ,::^r ilT' T '^r^' 
 describe its chanacteristics by such metaphorical words '^"•""'' '" 
 
 can^e^wl::;;;;rlirt":""^^'°": ^^■•' - ^P-^-r reader 
 deep emotion, whose voiit^ri^s^m iZ^ tr H ^i^^ ^T"^ ''^ 
 natural mode in obtaining from the chest a greater unn "of ,>: ""?' ''' 
 and iu-. resonance, and the reverberations^: o be g'a^J the^:'|rs rT"" 
 pharynx, or posterior regions of the mouth, rather thi, 41 ' t 
 upper part of the mouth. In fulness strength ,n / ^ P''"'''''-"' "■" 
 
 rior to the natural n.ode, but not d s^i^c om jt in i"""^ '"'''' '' '^ ''"'^■ 
 ■t ^hould Le equal to it. As it befits T:^^Z^Z£'2::.X-r'''^- 
 natural to utterance, in n.edium and low pitch • but it n., ' ^ "' " " 
 
 With low pitch simply, nor n,ust its charaSl^tiic u I t X ,7/" H ''''' 
 Mnu^ly. With the orotund, as well as with the n .ra, ^X • H th" "" 
 modes previously described may be conjoined. ^' ^"^ '°''^^ 
 
 whSe"S::ing ;i^S^'a!r:i;Sl^t.^te TUlS ^" S"^'°" ^ " '^ '^' ^ '^ 
 vocahty , producing the reverberation farl«ck in he , omlf !'T, '" "' ^ '^^ 
 
 ance is a /.,.„.. exemplificatio,, of the orZnd VV^th h '''? '■.'^'"'"' -■ ""er- 
 of =' vawn, making the 'cavity of reve he t on aO.ri '"'"'"V^ ^^^ P^^^^io.. 
 exercse until the utterance can be pn Krsn.oo Mrnn""^ P"f '^''^' '"'•^P^^' '^e 
 .. .orm s.m.ar syllables contain^ '^ SiTSSsrS'^^J^SS 
 
xxll 
 
 ^^'TKOnvCTOKY^ 
 
 If 
 
 . -^'-"- ""pure , . ; ;■;'":■"• """'• ""^^ ^'-u'^ 
 
 ExKRcsK , ^^. , "' speaking or 
 
 «° f-. >vh„, h„s been rr """'""• ''"'•"'• ""'' 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 xxiii 
 
 prevailing wfdtl/onheinti^Lr^^^ '^"^ •**'^«''-^' •'^"d the 
 
 will vary fro,rir 'r- . h '" . ' '''•-"""" "' '''^ '"'^"^''""^ = -» ^'"-'^ 
 
 fro... wL, t^w^rc f ^''"^'■''"'' •'"" '■■"'" ^'"'•^"^« '« ««"'»-•"-«. even 
 
 reading, will a w.;'^" ^-"- »^-« «'- ".uch endowmc-nt his 
 
 A/Uiction „Z\. ]. ; ' """■'^'"^■^''•' appropriate and impressive. 
 
 h u n w i h "''• "' " "* ^'""''"''^ understood, is almost wantC I) 
 
 diction Of dlBcourse^X "?""' """'^ "^^^ '^ -"^^ ''^'^ 
 
 «>->• lan«,nroJ ;.? '^ ^^""'^'''P"""' ^'"'P'« '^'•e"n>ent or reasoning : it is 
 
 called ruction 'orB^t^^^^^^ ]i" '" "^""' '■■^'^"^"' ^'"^'' -y ^ 
 
 cates that trnTd of tl™. f""^*^' '"'""^'-^ '^" '''"«"^»^« -'^''^h Li- 
 
 excitement • thThe^ W^^^^^^ '■'I "V'"PP°'^''' " '" ■" ^''^'^ of moderate 
 -quently. i'n th effJct o T h'" " "'''°" °' '™^'^'' ^° °^'--' ^d' -"" 
 
 is interest d„ hi .tt it th T"" "'"l' '^^ = '^^ ''^'' ■'^"^^J^"^''-'y- »>« 
 cerity ditrni.v^f .1 language of admiration, reverence, awe. sin- 
 
 4 bets .h?; roro7p^r;'iSr"""i , '^ ''- '''' ^'^'^"■-- ^^^ 
 
 excitement and mo^ h!^ . . J°"^'' '" '^"^"^^'^ expressive of deeper 
 
 diction of eeltrtfr. ""'''-'" '''' '"'^"^^ ^^ -'"-""^ 'he 
 passionate ejlTatio/fpl^^^^^^^^^^^ " °^ ^"-^'""-^ interrogation, of 
 
 '^^2; ^:i^T^^^^^^~ Sh^r::s::hr ^:r ■ 
 
 applpnate focal si;:trh?ari:trofltiora;^^^^^^^^^ ^'^ 
 
 pnate vocal cxpression.-alaftude of choice in the^^ns^t Id s aT' 
 conse,^^^^^^ 
 
 coniroTrtn """ "'T""" '°'" ^'"^ ''^^'°" -^ ^'— ^ -y he said to 
 coHMst of the foUowmg '"odes :-normal pitch, simple intonations, and waves 
 
ill 
 
 xxlv 
 
 ^^Th^ODUCTORY^ 
 
 "' a second, moderate f 
 ""^' '"'■"'^^ the whoJe vocl '"^' ^'"^ ^^'"'iment the""' '^"^ ^^'^omes 
 
 '■■* "'« plainest and s" n ', "^^ ^^•^'". 'nasmuch aTl ' '^'"^^"^^^'^ ^^ fT.av^ 
 
 ^^eing short and crfs^Urr""' ^'^ ^^^ -^ ^ the r;";'^ ^'''^ ^'- " tef 
 ^"d with distinct, attenuaL^ ^^"'^'^ °^ ^''■^•^-■ous eon '" '^"'''"''^'«'*- '^ese 
 
 ^"a'ity. whenever t^^T/r "'''''^^^'' '" grave ad °"^^'-^^"'0". but extended 
 ^'«rf«^ bv some deen ""' ^^'P'-^^''^^ from N . ?'^°"''*"^ '"onoJo.nie i 
 
 t"d While etr^sK .n,rr"""' -''^^ "-"-' ' - w.T!^ ^'''^^'^^'^^- ^-mes' pet" 
 ''^^ -Pulsive mo:,e 17 "T, " '''''''' "^ P- Z ^l^, P''!^- ^« ^be orot J^^ 
 P-'o„ requires it so '° ^'^ ^-^'P'--- when en'ir.t'tr^''^ ^'^^ 'o 
 
 ^appropriate vocal exfir'T ^ "" ^'^'^°"'-se to f h , 
 
 vn.d n,odes^its bri^h "tt "" °' ^"^^'°"- '' c^S vs i,"'^ •' "'^ -' - .he 
 
 feelm^^ or passion that „er ^ ■*'^''°" "'" 'be o.fi :^ ' "'"'^"'''^^'^''"".ffives 
 
 X:^— stapp,.op,::,r^:;^-;; thisis - ^^^^r''^^''^^^ 
 
 ^>PU-ss,on suitable to the n ^ ' Po^sible-the whn, ' ""^ "'''" «« "'av be 
 ''"" -'■'' bave What .•^c.^r'^L '" '"^'^P-' 'o i s ' !h-'"°"-^''''"^'''^^ 'be vo.ai 
 .states described as ch,;!^^' " **'^«- ^-^ general tenS en : ^"^ """''""• 'be sele 
 '"^- .-"cl the diction of ;,''''^'"-' "^ "'^' rf'c-tion o ^t ''^ '""'^""^ «"" "^ those 
 '° ""'^'' tor this dWn S r;""" ^'^^P^^^'^-^-'v ; and if rr'T' "" '^'^'-" of ^ 
 ■'^^-'"^•"ce to .sentence ^rr^ °^'^°'"-«' "'"v v,-,r f ''' '"■■^""^'^^ "fthe re- , 
 
 best he n.,, "^ ^^^ -etm.es tron." wo:^ 'Zl:::^^ '? — ' ^l" 
 
 °'-""l to interpret it as 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 XXV 
 
 t^onal state or drift of whirh it ic ^^ ■ gi^'it^rai ttrnis, the enio- 
 
 ,...., ana -^^>:tt::z'^r^^::^j^^^'^:^^^ .« 
 -:r::^:r;t^:^ir;;^£::- ■^- '«»^ »"- 
 
 it involves, what are its prevaL^ HHf ?», ^ emotional states which 
 
 voice choose the suitabJm^d for the'/^^^^ "; ""^'^' '^ ^-^^^ ^^^^^^'^ "^ ^^e 
 . drifts, conjoin the seloctecH odes^-n.o '"'"'P'"'^^^'"" "^ ^''^^ ^— ^ states or 
 form the vocal express^ th.'.vt^'^''^'''''*' '°''' "^"^' '^"^^ "'"> ^^ese 
 teacher, or tke ..Xwi't rtl'Tr 'Y "''^"' ''''^^^''^^'^- ^^ 
 .W.;.. sentences or pa Jit V^^^^^^ "-« '^- R^^^n^^K- or 
 
 s^>o„M ,e ..riUen. upon a ./:! W 5 f^^f I/^'' '^^^^^ -'"'-'• '^- 
 
 -p:::^- .r r o^^:r ^-- -^^ --s ^e^rri., to 
 sentence, passage, or selection. co^l.^^enellioZZa^^^^^^ °' t "'"''^ 
 
 ^e.rin. to the --h^.^^t ^^i^^ ^ ^^^^^ 
 
 inrs^^i':™rv^ "^"^"^ " ^'^^ --- --'- 
 
 It may be spoken oL Iw / / '"" """"'"^ ^ '«"^^'"^« o'" Passage 
 
 spond'with I ::L ; i^r;^^'- ^"^ "'.-■ .^^^^^^^^ «^^ ^^omd corn.: 
 the- expression of a,. ^^^^^Z^'Z^l^:;^!^'- J^ ''^ "-"-' ^ 
 
 .ighter feelings ani ^^Zr^l^ ^Zl^^^"- °^ ^^^ ^^ ^« -"^"^ the 
 so on, also for the expression of r^m , '^"'"'^''' J^y- exultation, interest, and 
 l-«luer, and the liJs Zti^ ^i , o^ 'T''""^"^-^'^' ^""— conversation, 
 Pi.^-h is appropriate ; and on J ° r.J'^^^^^^^^^ ''''''''^'' "°-^^ 
 
 he ca'lcd the graver and deeper feeling such Is awe '""'"? °' "'^' "•'^>' 
 and ..clancholy. and the more impasS/ d 0^0^!; a '![""; .""f"'' ^^'■'^'• 
 ror. rage, despair, as well as for the expression of '^Iv'; '"' ' "'''''"^- '''''' 
 though,, sentential pitch of a dcVreHnr ff, -'''"'''"' ^"^ ''"^''^^-^'^e 
 ^Impropriate. The degrc M^f eL-^ion anr; '""" '^"^ "^'""■^' P'^^'^ '^ 
 
 .hop.dgn,entandgo.:dtas.:or;;^^r:t^™:r.^..:!^r"^ 
 
 tills (le.Mce may varv from nu^^o.- . '"'' '" "^'"d tliat 
 
 and o„'„ frnnMrZ. "phrr^'' '" """«" """ '""" — « "o -«„„, 
 In .v,.rj- Mjlo of dictbn, no nuuttr how uni„,p,„»ioncd I, „,.,,. ,„, ,„.,,. „,hi 
 
XX vi 
 
 i 
 
 li 11 
 
 ^^TRODUCTORY. 
 
 "le mam sentence ,,"""' *P<-'n'ls upon ,he seiittn„„i u ' "' "'''"'=<■ 
 similar lo.S"^,! ";""."« °f <'•" P»rc.„,h,,k .houldU !•',.""'" '^ ™"'«'<i 
 
 and lefve the sf ? ^ '"' '''" '^^^^ ^^^ bl done h;re "'"' '"^^^"""^ ^'-'-t o 
 
 to continued u Lit ITr'^^"'*'"^'"^^^^ T^"' '" "^ "^«- 
 
 " '^o,» and %r ? ^'" ^*^ «^e" ''t once if ^ 2\ '° '"'P'""' "'^Jody 
 
 With nZJZ^Z:: ''■ T^ '•^ -^d- «- 1 th tTo ""^"'^^ ^^°'- "-'P'e' 
 
 aninmted colloquy Wh ^ '''"" ^"'> ^hose appropriate hu^ '"''"°P^''-'y 
 "nation, each syllable ^ ^''"P"'"^^ ''''^'^^^' even if reL T'""' '^'^''^'•^ *" 
 
 'yilable to syllable fnrn '^"'^''^^'^'3' ""ered ; but the ra/ir, '"'°"'^' and 
 
 with equal Innron f ""'^''^^ '""--^ ^-^'/^'^• the s " '" ''' ''''' '^/^-r- 
 -thalledTtrC^^^^^ 
 A group of t.t oHh ee IT- '"''"'■°"^- """"" °' ''^'^ 
 
 ^"-. in which the ''f'"^' ''^'^ '•^^'^i^e different n"""" °' ^'^'^ ^^^i^-'als 
 ^-'W. groups o "•' "'■^ «" °" the same nUcI ? " '"'^^ ^^ ^^^^ -"-- 
 
 '^-tp^::^:,::^^,;"- and three tone^rCiv:;^ ^^ f ^'^'"'^ '"^ 
 ^-vn-.rd .-"tonation^ bit firT'?" '" ""-'^^' P"-,ses m^ • """'^ "' '^■■'"- 
 ^-clcr „.u.t bear in minH h,.:^^^"'^-? -"""' '- 'aid down t ^ :^^^-'"-!; - 
 "" ''"^evcr, that it is upon the ,.., r , "''• ^ ''« 
 
 PO" the tasteful use of phrases 
 
INTRODUCTORY. xxvii 
 
 ?h.f therrn'^'r ''• "''T ''' '•'^'^^'"' -'"P'^y'^-t of variation in radical pitch 
 
 ^lodv U . ',. ""'"' ""^"^^" '"^P^"^^ = ^"^ ^^-^ 'f i' be devoid of tW^ 
 •nelody. ,t .s both weatison.e and unimpressive to the hearer. 
 
 rhemtonafons of the voice must necessarily be through either rising inter 
 
 Tbe rising: interval ,s heard naturally at the end of a direct question- that is 
 one to wh,ch '■,.." or " no" is an expected answer, as ■■./;. LgolnrZlr' 
 I he suspensive tone which the voice assumes at the end of the inferroga ion is 
 . d.cat,ve of mcompleteness of thought ; and indication of incomplet^^i^ Z 
 charactenstic function of all risimr inten,al< rnpiettness ts the 
 
 as /amke,e • ^^l bene, words in.licatinj,r completeness, positivencs. resold- 
 t.on are approprmtely uttered uutk d.nonward internals. In effecting - do w 
 ward mtonn.,on the voice operates in one of two ways : either the ^^C^l, 
 ^^^h ch ,t descends from a radical pitch at or near the current tone to a lowe 
 
 ^^to^ '"'""''' '■" ""■^■' '' ^^^""^^^ ""-^^ - -^'-' pitch a 
 
 . r' f T ' "'"'"'"' '""' "' ''•' '"'^"^^"'^ ^^^""■■••'^•^' ^"^> descends concretely 
 cither to the current tone or Mow it. "^■c«-iy 
 
 As every sentence is more or less incomplete until the end is reached riu,rr 
 luln^ahare the rule in intonation, and falling intervals the exnption and i^ 
 . th,s mfrequency o use which gives to the falling n,ovo,nent its value as a 
 .node of emphasis. But v'.ere the emphasis is that of doubt, uncertainty sur 
 prise, or interrogation, the suspensiveness of these emotional states is I,pro- 
 pnaujly expressed by rising intonations ; and hence, too. in all sentenis in 
 M.ch he interrogative element is strongly present, the rising interval should 
 characterize every syllable in it. and the sentences be uttered 'i.h interrogative 
 intonations throughout. If in any such sentence, a particular word is t'be 
 especially emphasized, this is effected by giving to the word a low radical pitch 
 and retainmg the rising interval indicative of interrogation ' ■ 
 
 The width of the Interval depends, as is natural, upon the intensity of the 
 thought or emotion of which the concrete is intended to he an expression I or 
 example suppose the statement. "Yoyx are the culprit," be answered by the 
 surprised and indignant interrogation, -I?" The emphatic words here used 
 may be appropriately uttered with intervals of a tone, a third, a fifth or an 
 octave, according to the emphasis supposed necessary 
 
 The Semitone, as has been said before, is an interval sometimes heard in 
 anguage of distress, complaint, grief, sorrow, tenderness, compassion, pitv 
 Occasionally u is introduced in diatonic melody as an appropriate emphatic 
 mode of uttering a single word ; as. for example. - Other friends have fioum 
 
 n'; I '' "'lit """''"" " '■ '"'^^ ^"'''"' '"'• " '^' ^'"^-^-^ d''^''"" "^'-^y «««"n,e what 
 may be called .pathetic drift, .nd for the suitable interpretation of this drif 
 onntomc intervals may be used, and the mode of progression cease for a space 
 to be diatonic and become semitonic. or chronatir ;,s if is called 
 
 The Wave i. one of the most impressive of the elements of expn-ssion • but 
 US proper use demands great flexibility in the vocal organs and a high degree o\ 
 
xxviii 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 \ 
 
 taste in the reader. Like all nth 
 
 and contrast to utterance ; that ZT^^^l ^tZ' 'r"''"^"""' ''^"^^ -'- 
 emphas,s or distinction. The wave, "l h" L en . "i"' '''' '""^ P-P«-^ of 
 an upward and a downward n.oven en ui ,' , T"'^^' '' ' ^""'-'^^'^ -''h 
 which most affects the ear and leaves unon.H ''»» 'ts last constituent is that 
 especially if it f. „,en with a w^ Terva':;' !,""''" '^ ^^ ''-- 
 
 ward, the wave n,ay express inter og.«bn "htl 1 k"""^ "^"^^"'^"^ '^ "P" 
 second movement }^ downward tf^wl^^ ''''''' '"'"P'"''^^ «'• '^^orn ; if tl. 
 w.th mdignation. The interval wWch are ' ""'''''' -'^^onishment mingled 
 d.ct,on to which it is applied, ^^'r:^^ '^ ''^.^ ^^ depend u,x.n the 
 
 r " "? ■^"'^^P ^'^^-^f' - fift'> or a whole Oct ''"r " "''^'"^"' '-"^-•'- 
 2 --/-...«./v .-. ^/..« , .,/^/J " ,T/^^^^ ^" 'h-e extreme n.odes 
 
 ^^J^rs,. and its effect intensified by the ™f , '''""^ "'"''^'"^'^' ''"- '« 
 
 express.on of such emotions as scor co.ue I' i "" "' ^'"^^' ^"^ <^- ''^'-- 
 the impure qualities of voice. IV'hen used v^^ '' ''"""''• '"^"^ '^^ «») of 
 characteristics of direct and inverted fornr, '"'"'"'"'•'^ "'^ '^e .second he 
 
 m this degree the wave is effecti dv ut """'' °' '""'^^ ^'i^tinctness ; but 
 
 with median stress and iong ^u i^i ',0 f 'r°,"''^'^ — -al words " 
 P-g character of the second a d'nifid and^^ " °^'^'""'^^ ^^^^ -^ "p" 
 denng of all serious and important tin hr"" '^''"' ^"''^^ '° ^'^^^ -" 
 The Wave of the Semitone is ,' ""'V''^'^ '' "°' impassioned. 
 
 quantuy. is needed as an^lerntn^^^f^^^^^ ^'^^ '-e. or svllabic 
 
 or pathos. The effect is much the s^n e w Ifh " t ''' ''"^"'^^^ ^^ 'Complaint 
 
 The Tremor may l^ u,ed to express 'f''" ' *^ '"'^^' °^ '"^'•^-'• 
 ^e mterval through which it rangH X ,2' "T'""' '^"'^'•"'^^^' ■" ^'^-'^ 
 be hm,ted to the sen.itone. With con dtulT !' ' "^ '" "'°'"^ P'^'"'*^- ^"ffect. 
 (^at,s.ofatoneorotherwise).a dig r other than the sen.iton 
 
 or greater width, it may be used toTJn '''7"^'^''^" aggregate interval of U-ss 
 utterance of the syllables "V^.^lf, LTl'^TvpT' ""]• '""• -"-"P'- '" '^ 
 resem. .as one syllable uttered with c^ crel fn'r ,' ' '"''" '"'^P'^"-^ effected, 
 -p.ratKm, and guttural vibration.^ u "Lie Int' • '^""'""^^ ^'^'^ ^^'■- 
 
 niay be n.ade to express scorn, de isbn Ith u '''°"'' ^^''^ '^^"^hing tonj 
 
 "• ^^»«CK. Force must be considrdun;'"'''''"'"P'-''"^«°°"- 
 
 .-. <///. /....,.y., in the uttteran fo t :. '"" T'^'' ■ «-'• - to the ,/.. 
 
 and second, as to the/vv« of ^y'^^/ f '■ ""'' P'''"'"^^''^' and sentences • 
 
 When the tern, is used\vitho^ ^aS^^^^"; ''' "' T''""' "^ ''^ -^i' 
 
 '-ended ; when the second is in^MK ed fe is °V'"" ^""-'^'erations is 
 
 A.r. nu.f /. ^v../.v.//.v,-.,,,,vj;; ;J^^^^^^^^ ^^'"r">' ^P^^^en of as stress. 
 
 organs are con,paratively relaxed--,,; in ,^^7 " '""" '""""" ''^*'' ^•"-" 
 -olent discharge of a great volun.e o air ^ 'h ,"" '""^' '""'""'^ ^>^ ''-• 
 
 he vocal organs are con.pressed and n " d h"'"t. 1" '"'■"""' ""-"'- 
 
 ::::^r:^ng;:;^r -"- --■--"^::^e^:^";:;t;m.:-^ 
 
 ^"^^^"^^"""'^"^''^•^-™-----'""-evar.ation.but. 
 
rNTS^OnuCTORY. xxix 
 
 degrees usually spoken of a.o rcry //,/./. //,/./. nu.ferafr, stro,,^, and very stnn,, 
 
 ttln'-t" T""'"' \^^^«^'"«---'' vary fro.n word to word, a.dfto^ 
 senteric to sent-nce ; and great judgment and taste must be exercised iu e. 
 ploying then., so that they appropriately represent th.- intensity of the hou ' It 
 and ft^.hng of which they are to be the expression ^ 
 
 Moderate Force is the natural expression of tranquillity, and. therefore of all 
 un,n,pass.oned d.ction. As the diction iK-con.es ..Jvaded by themo e p^^i ive 
 emofons. the tones of the voice naturally bc-con.e stronger. Certainty reoues 
 strong force wuh pure quality. So all the passions, the lighter as well as the 
 ...ore vehen,ent. require the degree of force to I. heightened : cheerfuln ss iov 
 -Stacy. rec„.rn.g force tnoderately strong; and anger, hate, ter or ev;nge' 
 lH..ng suuab ly rendered by very strong force. Again, doubt, uncerta.nt; stcrecv 
 
 sented by tnt; lighter shades of force. ^ ^ 
 
 As the voice assumes the intenser modes of force, the vocal o«rnn. h. 
 more and n.ore con.p..ssed. and utterance is more and^ll^ L:^ "l^ ^I 
 forced out cannot all be vocalised ; the voice teconu.s less and L p^re a d 
 ...an,fests Uself „, the aspirate an<l guttural qualities. //..... .tn.^^^,::^^ 
 
 uttera^ue ^n ^,np„, locality rather than n,ere loudne. in pur. ^^ali^ 1 
 appropriate expression for all the int.nser passions. ^ 
 
 m. Strkss. Stress is force considered with respect of the form of its apnlici 
 t.on to the concrete. Since the equable concrete is the natural cobrless ex 
 press,on of umn,passioned thought, force applied to any part o it changes ii 
 character, and g.ves it a more or less significant en^phrsis. The thrJmo 
 usual forms of stress are the ra,iical, the meUian. and \^e jinal ; these may i 
 
 "r ;b.s: ^£^- -' '- -^-- ----- --^ - " 
 
 Radical StreSB. to some extent an essential, but not an expressive elen.ent in 
 the equable concrete, is. in a somewhat stronger form, an elen J 1. arutte" 
 ance that ,s mtended to be vivid and energetic, emphasizing these cha ac ri tic: 
 by .ts own u.c.s,ve clearness. The n,ore animated and energetic theS? he 
 clearer and more determined should be the opening of the concrete tl a T I,! 
 more chstinct and forcible should be its radic!:: stress ; whileTgraJer^^^^^^^^ 
 
 he radical stress ,s less pronounced. Tn its emphatic degree it Tught at S 
 t...e to be allowed to become a current mode, imparting its peX? incisive 
 character to every syllable ; though, for especial emphasit. it La/b apo o 
 prrn ely used m this way in the utterance of the several words of Tphrase 
 
 Final Stress differs from radical stress principally in this, tha wl'le it "ual 
 V .nd,cates energy and positiveness. it does so as in accordance whTldl^" 
 .. unafon and reflecfon. A'a^liaU stress denotes, as it u.re, an invlnnarv 
 
 «/. ./ energy ;jinal stress, the energy or Ji.edness of resoL. Henctfina^ 
 Mress as appropriate to the expression of resolution, of obstinacy of „ 
 conviction, of na^sionat" resol-p Tt ^,.„ i • - , """'-y' "' t-arnest 
 infprvni • • -''-'°"-^^-/''^o''^- It emphasizes the characteristics of wide 
 intervals giving to nsing intonations a more decidedly interrogatory charaaer 
 and making falling intonations more vehemently and passionately ^iUve ' 
 
^1 r 
 
 %xx 
 
 iNTROnUCTOfiY. 
 
 Median StresB, as it can be eflectively applitd to none but indefinite or 
 mutable syllables, is compatible only with such a rate of utterance as will permit 
 of these receiving long ()i .mtities. It may receive any degree of force, from 
 that gentle swell wliich indicates a tranquil flow of emotion, to that firm and 
 swelling energy which is the appropriate expression of the language of elevated 
 feeling. With the wider intervals it should be used only for occasional em- 
 phasis ; but in its lighter forms it may prevail as a drift of dignified expression. 
 Median stress. Ijeing always necessarily associated with long quantity in syllables, 
 is not an appropriate mode in the language of colloquy, or. in vivacious dis- 
 course of any kind. It is, however, the fit interpreter of that fervid and lofty 
 imagination which clothes itself in forms of grace and grandeur ; and hence, 
 with intonations and waves of the lesser intervals, with medium or low senten- 
 tial pitch, a moderate degree of force, and the jnire or orotund quality, it is the 
 appropriate expression of all exalted prose and pot!try, not strongly dramatic. 
 
 Thorough Stress is effected by continuing the force and fulness of the radi- 
 cal stress throughout the whole concrete. Used as a current mode, which 
 should be but rarely, it is expressive of bluntness, arrogance, bravado ; and, 
 with short quantities, of ignorant coarseness. Occasionally it may \ya used in- 
 stead of final stress to give emphasis to a syllable whose vanishing movement is 
 but little cajiable of receiving an increase of force. 
 
 Compound Stress combines the qualities of both radical and final stress ; it 
 is therefore of extreme character, and can be only occasionally used. With 
 wide intervals, in its stronger modes, it is expressive of the utmost intensity 
 of feeling ; in its lighter modes it is the natural expression of strong surprise. 
 
 The Loud Concrete is simply the equable concrete uttered with greater ful- 
 ness of breath and loudness of tone. It is used to break a current of light force 
 for the sake of emphasizing some word or phrase ; and, in impassioned discotirse. 
 it may be used as a current mode, individual words or phrases being then put in 
 relie. jy receiving the forcible radical, or thorough or compound stress. 
 
 In reference to stress it must be remembered that, as with all other varieties 
 of emphatic utterance, no one form should prevail as an exclusive mode. Even 
 a prevalent drift of thought or feeling will be most effectively rendered by vccal 
 signs which change in color and intensity from word to word. It must also be 
 borne in mind in reference both to force and stress, and to pitch and time as well, 
 that the modes which are employed must sustain a suitable relation to the situ- 
 ation and surroundings of the speaker. Where considerable space has to be 
 filled and distance overcome, the energy of utterance should be correspondingly 
 intense ; but for great distances, what is called level speaking is the only effec- 
 tual mode,— that is, speaking exclusively in those tones of normal pitch in which 
 the voice has most penetrating power, with force of almost constant intensity, 
 and in a somewhat slow movement with long syllabic quantities, but of course 
 with as much needful variation of expression as is possible within these limits. 
 iV. Time. Time is rate of utterance. It ccmprehends quantity, or rate con- 
 sidered in reference to the duration of individual syllables ; and movement, or 
 rate considered in reference to the utterance of .syllables and words in succession. 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 • XXXI 
 
 \\'ith it may be co,«idered pause., or cessations of the voice, helpful in the ex 
 pn.Mon of thon,h. an., .eHin. and ne.essar, to the wo^kin^l T r^S 
 
 Quantity, as .jftin.-d ahove, is an arbitrarv fhino- ,i . i 
 
 sivo „f iheir n,.v,i,lng when in „,,„i„„ „„„. T »>"■''■''■>■ "" '"ore i,xpres. 
 
 -l,en»,,M»///,./,,l, JCT;"^;,^:'' 't™" " -■"«»'-■'' prolonged, 
 
 moderate intervals, medium or low sentential oitch if I , , '^^''^• 
 
 pretative of solemnity, reverence a'^ d 1 ' .h T ''' "'"'"'"''"y '"'"'•- 
 
 all elevated emotion. Colloc a 1, ionJs exd^d'^ "' " " -''"-'''tion. and 
 
 the h^ner emotion, re.uiri ;:! :;;:;:'::^:^:^n^;":;r:r''^ ^" 
 
 and so are more fittingly interpreted by short qualities and radt^st ^T ^""• 
 
 The discernmg reader, in his work of vocal interpretation wi 11 nnTf * . 
 advantage of the inherent character of syllables S^:t'^^ ^J 
 language abounds in indefinite syllables to whi.h )». .r.. • ^"antity. Our 
 
 tity he may desire. On the ot^r ^^:^:^^^':;^TX 
 tmg the wave and the median stress, are eminently fitted or u "'" 
 
 forcible forms of radical stress ; and mutable syll'"!"^;^^^^^^ 
 pernm of perfect exemplifications of thorough and final stress ^ """' 
 
 Movement, though it depends for its slower and more expressive form 
 thecapacuiesof syllables for the reception of long quanth es 7s ,^"? "•"" 
 ra],.d forms, quite independent of syllabic structure a, ?,! J "'^'^ 
 
 Will of the speaker; hen'ce it may lt^:7r:^.^^:^:ZT ^ 
 control. A medium rate of utterance is. with respect to le'le „" ura e 
 press.on of an equable flow of thought. The livelier en.otions sh<;uW b^ "d "Led 
 by quicker rates, and hence, cheerfulness, joy, vivacious dialo^l ™^ 
 narration, naturally find their expression in Icemen more rfe^brir^':. 
 short quantities, varied intonations, and pitch higher tl^n thenn ^ f 
 n.ore vehement emotions, eagerness, anger, excitfd :n.;^;'tm::d1 '^^ 
 heightened forms of these modes. Contrariwise thoutrht nf '''''"'^"^/""P'y 
 talive character, admiration, reverence, and alT t"; deeper and! ?" '"/ T"" 
 require a dehl^rative, slow-timed utterance, with it^ uantit^^rattnTd 
 
 ateiy longer, and with in.pressivj^.dian t:;;:.^;:::,^::;;;;;^;;; ^^ 
 
r / 
 
 ; ' ^ I 
 
 I 
 
 xxxll 
 
 ^^^^TRoniirxoj^y 
 
 punctuation n.arks i, ? J . ^'' ''"''"'•-''"• "'"-^t 'x^ borne ,rr ^"■"'''"■'^' "'="•'<« 
 '- tl,ose which nii, " "' '^'''"' "'<' 'dation of L ' "'' ^''"""«»'^ ^'-^ 
 
 7f that arjs':::^ i::t;° r- ^^'"^^ --'x.r ':::?"• '^""' 
 
 -d the „.ind to grasp t4 Z^^^'f ''''''' '^ ^'^"^'^^ -cl t . f 1 "" ''" 
 hence, n readimr .f '^''ition— the memorv alon,. h„i • ""'^'^'•^'^e can not 
 
 «'.-ida,»^j,l";; 7™ -* ..,«„. «,:;, ,:''r,S>p-o. p.. 
 
 qu.nng the most rapid ut^r *" ^''"'"'^s' 'i"d simolest . . ' ''''■''^''' 
 
 '"- stoppages o/t" S""'- "^^ ^^' - -arked ^ a "^^^^^^^^^ ^ '"■'" -- 
 occur except when theyM^!' ""'"'''^"'y '■^'qu'Ted for insS i " T''' '''^' 
 As interpretative of '"'"''"P'''-'' »''« sense -th.v' "^=^" '"'v^'" 
 
 -atieal structure bulT'T '""^'^^ ^" ""' nec^X "' "°' '"'^'""''' '•'• 
 
 ;'^f '>e.uency:;^r;;^-^''^-oaesofe.pre:r;^Sr 'T^'"" 
 feehng which they are fo "-" ™'^ "'"difications-^nmsf ^ ^ "'"''-''■^'''. 
 should correspond ^h th "''''' '" ^""'erpreting. !„ , " ' 'f '"«"-« with the 
 ^vhen the niovanej , '"°''"'^"' ^^ ^^ich They „, v 1 ' 5' '''''"''^''^' '^^^Y 
 they are natura "y ong r;;"' i"-^''^ ^^'P^'--" or'a^^e I" '' '■°'"" ''^ ^-'^ 
 
 --ions, they sh'oui t ^ 'T ""^^'"^'^ ^''^^"'•-^ oTt,:;:;:';;^ ";^' '■'^^'• 
 
 ''"ention of the hearer.-^'ther^. 2^ '""''^ "^ ^'"Phasis paul i^v ' '''"'''-"'" 
 may duell upon it or / "'f ^"^^ard upon a word nr I ^^ '° ^-^^ 'he 
 
 y 'imotion io another. 
 
 % 
 I 
 
THE 
 
 HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I. KING SOLOMON'S PRAYER AND BLESSING AT THF 
 I'EDICATION OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 I'fom Tnji i.'iK,sr BuuK ok Kings. 
 Ttanslated /6ir~A'evised /<%. 
 
 thcTadst'f'XT 'h't'"' "' "^'""-^ °f '^^^^'--d all 
 of tWh u *';"''"• "''^ Pn''^'^'* of the fathers- houses 
 of the children of Israel, unto king Solomon in Jerusa- 
 lem to bnng up the ark of the covenant of the LoKDout 
 o the e.ty of David, which is Zion. And all the men 
 of Israel assembled themselves unto king Solomon a" 
 the feast m the month Ethanim. which Is the Tventh 
 month And all the elders of Israel came and h. 
 pnests took up the ai^k AnH tK t ? ' "'^ 
 
 „f .u T ^ ^"° "^'^y brought up the ark 
 
 vis MHrwe^ln'l'xLf.-'^^T^'^ ^"'"^ ^^ 
 ^^ the Uvites^-n'ru^ A;r,:n;^To^-^\X^^ 
 the congregation of Israel, that were assembled unto 
 h.m. were w.th him before the ark. sacrificing sheep and 
 oxen, that could not be told nor numbered fof JuTtftude 
 
 th! mos? Z^ , " ' '"'° *'= °"^"^ °f 'he house, to 
 the most holy place, even under the wings of he 
 
 Uierubnn l-or the cherubim spread forth their"winel 
 over the place of the ark. and the cherubim covered th^ 
 
34 
 
 i! i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 rw-: woH scMoo/. ^e^oj-:^. 
 
 '''-c at Horcb. who : the u ,n 7 '''"''' ^"^'^ ""' 
 the children of I,,ael when h " " '°^^"^'" «''h 
 
 -f %ypt. And it ca. to , a'f :h'"^ T "' '^'^ '-" 
 come out of the holy place I / * ""^ P""''' '^'^^'^ 
 house of the L0K„, ,o t,,at ih! ^" ''""" ^''^-d the 
 to mini..,, by ,rea.s;„ of h cltd'^^r'^r"'" "°' '''"" 
 Loi<„ filled the house of the o""/ ''^ «'"^ "^ ">e 
 
 Tlion spake Solomon Ti, t 
 ;-W d-l, in the 'Sits?',":''' '^'' ">- '- 
 hee an house of habitation TT I ""'' '"""'y ^uilt 
 r'"- ever. And the C" t,; "^ ft ^"^ """^ '° ^wcll in 
 b'--d all the cong fat r f f '"^^'•' ^'>"". ->^ 
 ;o"f.-egatio„ of Israel sSod'., "''-"' •' """ »" the 
 'he L0K„, the God of ^L, 1 -'l' ■''"■'^' "'"^^d be 
 momh unto David mv f» ' "^ "P'^'^e with his 
 
 ™y people Israel out of plpt F f '''""S'^' '"°"h 
 «" the tribes of Israel to buMd . " "° "'^ «« of 
 '"'^'ht be there ; but I hos" Da '^T' "'^' "^^ -"« 
 '--'■ Now it was in the hea r«f n '^.r'" ">' P-P'e 
 b'"ld an house for the „= . ^^^"^ '"^ father to 
 
 "f I-ael. But the Lou, sa"l' "" ^°'*"' ""^ Go^ 
 \Vhercas ft was i„ ^W^" hea t ?'°. °''"''' '">' ^^'her 
 -y name, thou didst we,l ha^ 'f "'■''' "' ''""- '"' 
 nevertheless thou Shalt not build T '" """"^ ''^^''t •• 
 that shall come forth ou of hv T" ' '"' "'>' »" 
 
 house for ,„y „,„, A„d tt ""' ''" '''^" ''"'I'' the 
 h;s word thathespak-e "or , ''"* -^^tablished 
 
 of David ,ny father and Z "'" "'''" "P "' the room 
 "- I <>'- Promised, ad h "JTV'r^ °'" '--'• - 
 — of the LOKO. 'the God ^f U^^'^'Tt '"' '"^ 
 
 isiacJ. And there have 
 
SOLOMON'S PR A YER AND 
 
 f set a place for the ark, wherein is 
 Lord, which he made with our futhe 
 
 35 
 
 lU.ESSING, 
 
 :he covenant of the 
 
 th 
 
 •m out of the land of K 
 
 irypt. 
 
 rs, when he brouirht 
 
 Vnd Solomon stood before the alta 
 the presence of all the con^^rcgati 
 
 r of the Lord 
 
 forth his hands toward h 
 
 on of Israel, and 
 
 m 
 
 the God of Israel, th( 
 
 caven : and he said () I 
 
 ;re is no God like th 
 
 pread 
 -OKI). 
 
 above, or on earth beneifh 7 ' '" '''^'''''^'" 
 
 mercv uffh t h ' '''^'" ^''''\'^^ covenant and 
 
 rnerc> ^^,th thy servants, that walk before thee w,th a 
 
 ^ tt have thou respect unto the nrp vo.- ..r ^t ""'"^^u • 
 
36 
 
 JHJ. WGH SCHOOL ;^EA,>EK. 
 
 afranist his neifjhb^ur, and ,' '',I"?T "^ » ""•" sin 
 cause hi,n to s„.c.ar, a^d he com ^ '"''' "''°" ^im to 
 altar „,his ,,„.,,, ^ th., her,V'" •■''"■""'^'■'''•'••'h'ne 
 ■""'ju^lKo thy servants c,„i " '" ''""'-n, and do 
 '>'^- "•■•ty t.,.on his own ;""";""« '''» "-k-ed, ,„ bn„g 
 '" Sfve hnn according ," L /''"'"^■''"*'' ""-' '•'«'«e,.us° 
 people Israel be. smittl d' '^:«' ""'"^"'•■•-- When thy 
 ;;;cy have sinned"^ l'^^;;:,^''^-'- f- ce.,, hc.,':^ 
 'hee, ».Hl confess thy „„;';•; " ""r 'urn a^ain ,o 
 "t.on untothce in this hoX th'^T""'' '"•"'^' -'Pl'"- 
 -'l/or^'ive the sin of thy 'op c," 'T^ """ '" '-«„, 
 *•>". ."Uo the land which t Zl "T'' '"" '"•'"^' "'<-''" 
 When heaven ,s shut up a |'h '"'"'''"'• <"»'''>-■'•«■ 
 !f -'c sn,ncd asain t he ;; 'I "° '•■^'■"' "-•"- 
 tl"- place, and confess ,1,. Z ' " '^>' P^X toward 
 '". when thou dost affl ct h ' "'T' '"'" f''™" "'cir 
 '-ven and forgive the sin oZ'' """ '""'' ''-" "' 
 people Israel, when thou teach f T^""'" ""^ "' "'^ 
 "•herein they should walk a!,d s !'''"' "^^ 8"™' "ay 
 wh'eh thou hast given ' \t ™' ■■■•"" "P"" thy Ian J 
 I ">ero be in the'land n.:^-L''7 ^ •""?" '■"'-•^'-- ' 
 here be blasting „, mildT 'foe "" ''^ P-'^-ee, if 
 their enemy besiege them in /l, , ' «terpiller ; if 
 whatsoever plague,\vha oe r s c'. ' "^ '''"' ^'^'^^ 
 prayer and supplication soever be 7 "' ^^ • "''« 
 hy all thy people Israel, whfch sh .m"'''" ''^ ='">' '"-"■ "r 
 P'ague of his own hearr ' d ^°'' "■^■'■>'™»" he 
 ^°«-d this house: th en hcar^T' '""'^ "'■^ "-''' 
 •'"-elhns Place^ and forgive and H ?." '" '"''''■'" thy 
 •nan according to all h.f^ayTtho"' "", "'"*^ "'"° -ery 
 (for thou, even thou onlvTn '*''' "'°'' '^'""vvest 
 children of „e„ ;) that 1'"^"^ "" ""^^^'^ "^ ^" 'he 
 ^^ """y '^" 'hee all the days 
 
.w.o.,/„.r.s- ,.^,, y^,, ^^.„ ,,,j,,.,^,^,^ ^ 
 
 f-- thy name's sak-c : (f„r they , ; a,- c,n,„.,y 
 
 name, and of Uiy „,i<rht,. i,.,,,,! ., "'"•'■ "f thy jja.at 
 
 a.™ .hen he ^^^Z!^ ;:^IZ:T^' ""' 
 lioar thm, m heaven thychvellln.r „l , ■ , , ""-' > 
 
 - a.i that the stn.^e^c,';;:;,'.'''.' c i:!^ "z^ii^ 
 
 pcoijlcs o. the earth m-,,, i , ' "^^^ '^" tlic 
 
 ;: ■>-<-• which , have bnilt i. calle / by , ^I '"?' 
 lh> people go out to battle a-.h,., i "^ 
 
 whatsoever way thou shalt se. d 1-. "L T"^'' '>' 
 ""t" the LOKD toward the eitv whlh ^l' u '^' P™>' 
 and to«.ard the house which r hi '°'^ ' ''^'"^"' 
 then hear thou in 1 clvcn ,h ■ ' "'" '^"'' "^^ "'-""^ ■• 
 
 tion, and maint thd '.a ^ '71 '"' '""--'' ™'»'"- 
 (fo; there is no ,nan that s n^.h no! )!:;?' b " "^'^^' 
 w.th them, and deh'vcr them to th^ ^' '"'^'"■>' 
 
 carry them awav rZ . ''"'•'"'>'' "° "'at they 
 
 far off or no yet ff :h ""l" u^'u '■■"'" '" "^"^ "-"y^ 
 
 the ia„d ^i^^^r'i^;^^':^^:^,}^'^'^-'^'^^ ■" 
 
 »Sain, and make sunnl.V ' P"™' ""'' '"rn 
 
 'he.n thatcaTried Z' ""'° """^ '" *e land of 
 
 and have d^^ rt^?':;^?''"^' T^ ■^■^^'^ ■'■■"-"• 
 tl'ey return unto thee^' ,' 1? ,'^f™ f"^^" "-^'^^ly = if 
 their soul in the l-md of\r ■"""■' '""' »'■* »" 
 
 them captive and ,r "^ "'"' '"""''^'- which carried 
 which thou jSve"tutth"r° ^''" '°"-"'' '"eir land, 
 
 hast ehoscn,':rt:it:\ ;; n t ^'t "i""'^ «^"" 
 name : then hear thnn th ^^'''' ^"'^^ f^'' thy 
 
 'H iicaven thv dwellin- nl. ^ i their supph-cation 
 
3S 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 those Who ca.ne/;;ry :• . fxrr^'"" "-'"- 
 
 compassion o„ them • for th u , "^ '"">' ^ave 
 
 inheritance, which Thou h \ "'^ P'"?'"^- »"<! 'hine 
 from the mi,ist of th "fu ^cf '?•' '°"\""' "' ''^rP^' 
 may be open unto ,Z p "" ' "'■'' 'hine eyes 
 
 -to the s'u pp i 1„ orthv o "°? 1 '"^ ^"™'"- -d 
 unto them whensoever thlt/" ''''"'' '° '"''^'^'^" 
 didst separate them .on^oZ aut""- ,^'" *"» 
 earth, to be thine inherita'Te as 1 1, ''T"''^ "' '"= 
 hand of Moses thy servan \ u 'P'''^''^"' ^y «he 
 
 fathers out Of K,y;t:o^^':;,"c!':,". ''"" '™"^"'''- - 
 orp::;::;:„^h[^;:;r;^-"^"",^^''.-<'eanend 
 
 LOR... he arose from'be ore t ait STh'"? ""'" ""^ 
 kneeling on his knees with his K J "^ ^"""' '"''"m 
 
 heaven. A„d ne st::^' .erlTtt?"' ""■^"' 
 of Israel with a loud voice savL nf ? ™"S''<^g«ion . 
 that hath given rest unto K^^ ^•, "''"' ^ "^e Lord, 
 
 all that he'pro"n,;: tere'l'trnoVf^Ti ^^^°^"'^ '° 
 all his good promise whth u ^"'^"'^ °"<= ""'■d of 
 
 Moses his serva" rt ^J'" ^"^ ^'' '^^ '^''"<1 "^ 
 
 he was with :: fa^hets rh°" ''"'' ""^ "'"' "■'■ ^ 
 forsake us- that he n ' "" ""' '^'a^e us, nor 
 
 -alk in al, t'tlyTTndt'r'"-,'?^^'"^ "'"" '^■-' '° 
 and his statutes and his ^^ ''^ '"' '^"mmandments 
 
 our fathers A;dt';^"5""'-^"'-^- "'hich he commanded' 
 
 made ^"PP.icat^l/CrthTC o' ;f T'' ' ''^'- 
 Lord our God day and i^h^U ,tX "'^^ ""*" 'he 
 
 °f his servant, a,Kl he fatl ,1 v """"^"■" *'^ ^-- 
 every day shall require ha !l, ^'"^^^ '^^«^'' «« 
 
 may know that the Lord he God ^7^'" °' ''^ '^"^'^ 
 
 ' ^ ^°^* > there is none else- 
 
 4 
 
 /!% 
 
V?. 
 
 Y have trans- 
 :)assion before 
 ey may have 
 plc, and thine 
 ^ut of Egypt, 
 ""t thine eyes 
 servant, and 
 (, to hearken 
 " For thou 
 copies of the 
 ikcst by the 
 lightest our 
 
 nade an end 
 n unto the 
 Lord, from 
 orth toward 
 )ngregation 
 - the Lord, 
 ccording to 
 •nc M'ord of 
 he hand of 
 ^'ith us, as 
 e us, nor 
 'to him, to 
 andments, 
 •mmandcd 
 th I have 
 unto the 
 the cause 
 Israel, as 
 the ea: th 
 lone else. 
 
 INVTTATrOM. 
 
 39 
 
 Let your heart therefore be perfect with the Lord our 
 bed, to walk H>. his statutes, and to keep his command- 
 ments, as at this day. And the king, and all Israel with 
 him, offered sacrifice before the Lord. 
 
 11. INVITATION. 
 
 From Isaiah. 
 I'ramlaltd i6n -Kn-htJ iSSi 
 
 Ho, every one tliat thirsteth, come ye to the waters 
 and ),e that hath no ,no„ey ; eo„,e ye, buy, and eat yea 
 
 nil K ^]^"''^°"' '•" >•« -^P™'! m""ey for that which is 
 not bread ? and your labour for tl,at which satisfieth not ? 
 hearken djhgently unto me, and eat ye that which s 
 good, and let your soul delight itself in fatnes.s. Incline 
 your ear and come unto me ; hear and your soul shall 
 ue : and I w,ll make an everlasting covenant with vo 
 c\en the sure mercies of David. ' 
 
 Seek ye the LoRn while he may be forn.d, call ye upon 
 1"" "h.le he ,s near: let the wicked forsake his wav 
 and the unnghteous n.an his tho„5,dUs : an,l let hin, re-' 
 turn unto the LoRn, and l,e will have mercy upo, him • 
 and to our God. for he will abundantly par.Ion. ' Ko'™. ,' 
 thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your w,u s 
 my ways, .sarth the Lord. For as the heavens are hi-d e 
 th.n the earth, so are my ways higher than your ^ 
 and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the Ain 
 
 not th,ther, but watereth the earth, an<l maketh it bring 
 
40 
 
 "-'"' ^^"^'r .^CHoof. ,,:^„^^_ 
 
 my ,nou,h : it .,,,„ „, ^ ;" „''J '"■" «oeth f„„h „„, „, 
 
 ■■'ccomp,,sh that which I p e"se ° T ™'''' "^^ ■' -^hall 
 
 the th,njj „,horcto I ,e„t ft l-' '"' " ■^''«" P^"»per i„ 
 
 joy, an, be ,e.I f„,th with lee ."" '"'''" ^° »«-'"' 
 
 h.ll.s .shall break- forth befJe v™,'- . ' '"""'"^'"■^ ''"'i the 
 
 tree., „f the fieW ,,h,,,„ ^ ;';'^ ^o" -"to .singing, «„,,«„ t,,e 
 
 h- shall co.„e up thefiftt'^n:';*; T^'^-^" "^ '^^ 
 loin r' "P ^''^ "^J-rtle tree ' , : r' "' ""^ ''™'- 
 Lord for a name, for an everl!.'; " *"" ^ to the 
 be cut off everlasting sig„ that shall not 
 
 "I- m TRIAL SCENE m THE "«p. 
 
 VENICE."* MERCHANT OF 
 
 *--A Court „r ,„,,,, ,,r7--'°-^- 
 
 F~,drari^;,:::^;"^«„pt, 
 
 A?ifofiio. ' 
 
 Vour grace Infh fn' "^ ^^^'^ ^^^''^rd 
 
 * A _ ^ . 
 
 m^el,:" ™"*'«^^^^^;^^^;,ri,~^i;^-r — — ___ 
 
THE ''MERCHANT OF VENICE:' 
 
 Out of his envy s reach, I do oppose 
 
 My patience to his fury ; and am ann'd 
 
 To suffer, with a (juiciness of spirit, 
 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 nuke, (io one, and call the Jew into the court 
 So/anio. He's ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face - 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
 'I'hat thou i)ut lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 'lo the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought 
 Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
 Than is thy strange ajjparent cruelty ; 
 And where thou now exact'st the penalty,— 
 Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,— 
 Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 
 But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the princijial ; 
 (llancing an eye of i)ity on his losses, 
 That have of late so huddled on his back, 
 Enough to i)ress a royal merchant down ' 
 And ]jluck commiseration of his state 
 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
 From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never traind 
 To offices of tender courtesy. 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
 
 Shylock. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose • 
 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn ' 
 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
 Vou'U ask me, why I ratlier choose to have 
 A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
 I'hree thousand ducats : I'll not answer that : 
 
 41 
 
*-' TW-: ,„GH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ^/'^Nlutiihkos, „rloathos. N,nv t„r v 
 
 * ■ • i>i()\\, f,„ y,)i,^ answer: 
 
 -•^^ 
 
 
 «.vh. a «■,,,,,,,,, 1,,,,,,,,^., ; 
 
 f >'^''' "■ »"' l> "KTilahl. s|„„„ 
 
 ^--hln':i.;;;::;:;;:-.;:;'"'"-"' 
 
 A losing suit a-ainst hini Ar,> ,- 
 
 /> • , Aic von answerV? ? 
 
 •v/<.■/-v^^^■,,a.';;::;;M;^i;;:i:: ;;;';■-"-■. 
 
 «; 1 ; 'f .'"f ■ -" '" -.ke n'o noise, 
 - '"e, arc i,.„edw„h,hc gusts of heaven; 
 
T: 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 nswer. 
 
 ill? 
 
 Iict.' twici'? 
 
 C'W. 
 
 7///f ''Arf:/^C//A.VT OF VENICEP 
 
 N oil may as well do anything most hard. 
 As scvk to soltcn that than which what's harder?— 
 H's Jewish heart : therefore, I do heseech yoii, 
 Make no more offers, use no tmther means, 
 Hut, with all brief and plain conveniency, 
 l.ot me have judgment, and the jew his will. 
 Hassam: For thy three thousand du.ats here is six. 
 Shy/ock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
 1 would not draw them ; I would have my bond 
 
 Duke. How Shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none? " 
 Shy/ock. \\-hat judgment shall I dread, d(.ing no wrong ? 
 \ on have among you many a purchas'd slave. 
 Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and m'ules, 
 \ t)ii use m abject awkX \n slavish parts. 
 Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
 l-ct them be free, marry them to your heirs ? ' 
 \\hy sweat they lij^ler burdens ? let their beds 
 lie made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 He season'd with such viands ? You will answer 
 " The slaves are ours :" so do I answer you • 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him. 
 Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine, and I will have 'it : 
 It you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
 1 stand for judgment: answer; shall 1 have jt ? 
 
 jyitke. U|n)n my power I may disnnss this court 
 Unless IJcllario, a learned doctor, 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
 Come here to-day. 
 
 So/amo. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 
 Bassanio. (Jood cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
 
 43 
 
 
44 
 
 Tiff: 
 
 '""" -'^"OOr niCADER. 
 
 ■ l'^' J<'«- shall have inv n,.sh -I ,1 
 J'^'V .h„u .shah lose. „,; „" • ■''?'"'• ^""^'»' •■'"'1 ^'1. 
 
 ^/./,.™,. |.„„ , V""''''■"l■"'■''l""<l■ 
 ^'-a.s,r,.i::: • '"-■•'■-.'•.-.■no,,, 
 
 ^«/'^/' Nerissa, dr^ '. /ii,, ^ , 
 
 fcri-tts )ourgr.irc 
 
 ™-''f' "''■ "■!>}■ dost thou whet thv I V ''"'■"'''"'■' " Mkr. 
 
 M'M: T„ ,.ut the forfeit f- "^" '" ^-'artiestl, ? 
 
 ^'•'V'W. Not on th ol r '"'" "'^" ''■■'"'<™l'> 'I-.' 
 T'x". n,akst thy k„,f e™ 'h,;' "" "'^- ^™'. h--^'' )'^^^- 
 No. not the ha„,.„n„., ' ,' """ "° ™«--'l can, 
 
 O. thy sharp e,,^ c " • "^ "'''""•' ''^''"■ii"-' 
 '«./' No, none ,h ?h "?"" '""'■<■' '^'^■^ 
 
 A;'.i for thy hfe let Justiec : ^ ^.r^^""^' <'°« ' 
 
 ■■\'Hl, whilst thou lav's, h , ' """ "''■-• 
 
 Infus-d itself in th e fo h'T'""°""'' '^'"- 
 
 '■\re wolfish, hloody^tarv-^?"^"^ 
 ■Wi'/'W-, Till tho, T ' "'' '■-■'«"™'-'- 
 
 ^■Hou hut o.e„;:~:;r:tr "r °^"'>- ''-^. 
 
 J<ej)air thy wit tjooH v^ J ^^""^ '^ ^0"d : 
 
 TocureleLrJin x^^a^^'."'"'''^" 
 "'«• i stand here for Jaw. 
 
45 
 
 THE ^^ MERCHANT OF VENICE- 
 
 ^^-nssa. He attcndcth here hard by 
 ;;"Kn..>nn.„..i:':::;,-';- X'^'''^°^- 
 "/ AV«,., /„, „„„„ >ZZ2 7 ""'"'"'" ■•■'""<^' ''"'""- 
 opliiim: wimh, l<e/tc,;d ^nfi, I,- ' " J'"-"'^'»-d with my 
 
 -/-..//....:. „ ,;i :l^:/:: '"""'!"' ""^'"■""" 
 
 snaU hotter, umh his ZmZ^Z"""' "''"""''' "'"'^" '"'^ 
 Enter Fortu, dressed like a doctor of taws 
 
 Are you acquainted with .he fc"'"'" ' '''"' """ P'^^ 
 Ih« Mds .his present que^ioni^^eoun. 
 
 «^ch .s .he merchant here, an^ ,4i,:h IL; ^P 
 
 j^X t'°"'" -«i °ld Shylock, both stated for.h 
 ■fortta. Is your name Shylock ? 
 
46 
 
 THE HJGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ■% ■ 
 
 i h 
 
 Shy/ock. 
 
 Cannot impugn you as you do proceed - 
 
 You stand within his danger, do you not ? r r a 
 
 Antonio. Ay, so he says. ^ " "°^ '^ {To Antonio. 
 
 Portia. T> 
 
 ^//Av,/... I do. ^""^ ''^"^"•'''^ ^^'-^ '^""d ? 
 
 f -'''■ TlK. qua,,-,, of'™e.cy ^Z ,Li. d ' "" "'^'• 
 droppeth as the gemie rain fr„,„ h,, J" ' 
 Upon the place beneath : it is f.vice bless d ■ 
 
 blessethhin, that gives, and him thatlkJ,. 
 .»m.glmestintlKM„iglnies,:i,,,J,:,'"- 
 
 I ethroned monarch better than his cr^vn- 
 H .s sceptre shows the for.e of tentporal po er 
 he attnhnte to awe and majesty ' ' 
 
 « herein doth sit the dread and fear of king, • 
 
 But mercy ,s above t,=s sceptred sway; '' 
 It IS enthroned in the hearts of kint^s 
 
 It IS an attribute to (iod himself- 
 And earthly power doth then sho'w likest Cod's 
 M hen mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew 
 1 hough justice be thy plea, consider this _ ' 
 
 J/;:';:"'^","'-'=<'fJus,ice,noneofus' 
 
 - mitigate the jt:&x^rr''''^ ""^•'■ 
 
 Must !, ■ '■°"°"' ""^ ■'•"■^' »''« "f Venice 
 
 «rn'\f V™'™^^ '8"'-' '^« mercht there 
 'V/iM/{.. My deeds upon mv he-id f T / 
 
 The penalty and forfeit of mvltd ""'^ "^ '"'•• 
 
 />-/.,. Is he not able to discharge the ntoney? 
 
THE ''MKRCHAXT OF VEX/CE." 
 
 J^assanio Y,,, here I tender it for him ir. the court • 
 \ ^a, tw.ce the sum : if that will not suffice, 
 I will he bound to pay it ten times o'er 
 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my hkirt : 
 
 If this w.II not suffice, it must aj)pear 
 
 I hat malice bears down truth. And I beseech you 
 
 Wrest once the law to your authority • ^ ' 
 
 lo do a great right, do a little wrong • 
 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will 
 
 cfnT' ■ ^T"' "^' ^''' ''^^"'•^ ''' "° Po^ver in Venice 
 Can alter a decree established • 
 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
 
 And many an error, by the same example, 
 
 ^^ '"/"•'^'^ '"to the state. 4t cannot be 
 
 Shy/ock. A Daniel come to judgment ! yea a Daniel I 
 O w,se young judge, how do I honour thee - 
 
 ^^r^V-'r'.'"'^^'"^^ k up n the bond. 
 
 I art a Shyl ck, there's thrice ' y money offer'd thee 
 Sh:'/ock. An oath, an oath, I '.ave an oath in I 
 
 Shnli T io„ ,. • °^'" "^ heaven : 
 
 ^hall 1 lay ])erjury upon my s ul r 
 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 A ?r'''; u ^^'^y' t^^''^ '>»"rf i« forfeit • 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim ' 
 
 A j)ound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful • 
 lake thrK:e thy money; bid me tear the bo'nd. 
 
 It do^h" '' " ^"'' ^^^"^^'"S '- ^he tenor, 
 
 it doth appear you arq a worthy judge • 
 
 Vou know the law, your exposition 
 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law. 
 
 \\ hereof you are a well-deserving j)illar 
 
 Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear 
 
 here is no power in the tongue of man 
 
 i o alter me : I stay here on my bond 
 
 47 
 
48 
 
 THE JIIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Antonio Most heartily I do beseecli the court 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 ^''''^'- Why, then, thus it is • 
 
 ' - "--^^ prepare your bosom for his knife J 
 ^^^.O noble judge iO 
 
 Han tn~ ' '"''"' ""^^ ''^"'P^''^^' «f the law 
 
 Hath full relation to the penally, 
 
 A\h.ch hereappeareth due upon the bond 
 r.^" \ ■' ^"■>' *'■""' •■ ^^ ^^•••'^e and upright judae ^ 
 2TTV'' ,rt thou than thy^looL ' ' 
 
 Syays the bond: -doth it not, noble jud;.P^'''^'^^^^^ 
 West h, heart :Mhose are the very .-ords 
 
 Thf;;2hp"- ^^^^ ^'^-^ b^^-- here, to .e.gh 
 S//y/oc:A'. I have them ready. 
 
 rfT'X-^'''''' ^^ '""'""^ '"'■8^°"' Shylock, on your charL^e 
 1 o stop h.s wounds, lest he do bleed to d.ith. "' 
 
 'S^J>/o,A'. Is It so nominated in the bond? 
 
 >T^T"^\ '"' "°! '^ ''^"^^^'^' ^ ^"^ -i^^^ -^ that ? 
 lA^ere good you do so much for charity ; 
 
 ^^^.^-"-^^"^1 it; 'tis not in the i^^^ 
 ^or^^a Come, merchant, have you anything to sav? 
 ^.W. But little: I am arm'd, and ^Ll ^r'd 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio : far; you we I - ' 
 Gneve not that 1 a.n fallen to this for you • ' 
 ^or herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 1 han IS her custom : it is still her use 
 To let the wretched man ou .ve his M^ealth, 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled uro; 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 Of such a misery doth she cut me off 
 Commend me to your honorable wife : 
 lell her the process of Antonio's end • 
 
THE ''MKFICHANT OF VENICE » 
 
 Say how I lovd you, speak me fair in <Icath ; 
 
 And, Mhcn the tale is told, bid her he judMC 
 
 W hether Jiassanio had not once a love 
 
 Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
 
 And he repents not that ho pays your debt • 
 
 -or, If the Jew do cut but deep enough ' 
 
 J II pay It instantly with all iny heart 
 
 ^^ssanio. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 
 vv hich is as dear to me as life itself- 
 But life itself, my wife, and ail the world 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy life'- 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you 
 
 Portia. Vour wife would give you little thanks for that 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer 
 
 GraUano. I have a wife, whom, 1 protest, I love: 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 ii^ntreat some power to change this currish Tew 
 
 Mnssa. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
 The w,sh would make else an unquiet house 
 
 'tdaSS-; ^'''- '^ ''' ^^-^- ^-^-ds ' I have 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 Had been her husband rather than a Christian I- 
 
 Portta. A pouno of that same merchant's flesh is thine • 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 SAy/oc^. Most rightful judge I 
 
 Thfr'''* 1^""^ ^°" """'^ '"' '^'' ^^«h from off his breast • 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it ' 
 
 S^Wo.^.Mo.t learned judge ! A sentence !-Come, prepare 
 
 TU T'/J"''' ' '''''' ' ^^^^ '' «°"^^thing else. ^^ 
 
 This bond doth give thee here no iot of blood • 
 1 he words expressly are " a pound of flesh " - ' 
 Take then^hy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh 3 
 
 49 
 
 III 
 
 m 
 
so 
 
 THE nir.H SCHOOL keader. 
 
 % 
 
 «ut, in the cutting it, if tho (l„st shed 
 
 One (In,,, of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, conliscate 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 >S/iy/oik. Is that the law ? " 
 
 P„ "^ "'■ Thyself Shalt see the act : 
 
 i^or, as thou urgcst justice, he assur'd 
 
 I'hou Shalt have j..sti(e, more than thou desirest 
 
 ('/-^///r/w. () learned judge !— Mark I.-w • , i ^i- . . 
 v/,./. / T . 1 , . • t>^ • ^"'irK, jew : a learned judue ' 
 
 A-i"ich^t:":f^^^^ 
 
 ^i., Here is the .one. 
 
 The Jew shall have all justice ;-soft ! no haste :_ 
 ile shall have nothing but the penalty 
 ^^ W O Jew I an upright judge, a learni^d judge I 
 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less nor more 
 
 «ut just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more 
 
 Or less than a just pound,-be it but so much 
 
 As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance. 
 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn 
 
 J'Ut m the estimation of a hair,— 
 
 Thou diest, and all thy goods Ire confiscate. 
 
 Gratiano. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew t 
 Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip 
 
 f/f. Why doth the Jew pause ? Take thy forfeiture. 
 'SJy/oc^. Give me my principal, and let me go 
 ^assa;^io. I have it ready for thee ; here it is 
 J^orf^a He hath refus-d it in the open court : 
 He shall have merely justice, and his bond 
 
 T .tlT' ^ ^^"^'^' ''^" ^^y ^ ' ^ «^^o"d Daniel !- 
 T thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 
 I 
 h 
 T 
 V\ 
 
 V( 
 
 *L. 
 
■ 
 
 TIIF. ''MERCHANT OF VENJCK:' 
 
 li-'d jud^je I 
 
 L*d judge ! 
 
 il 
 
 .S^../.W^ Shall r not havo barely my ,>rimi,«^ 
 /orna. hou Shalt have nothing l.ut the lorfeiture, 
 I •> l>c' so taken at thy peril, Jt-w 
 
 Shyiock. Why. then .he <levil give hini good of it I 
 1 II stay no longer (juestion. 
 
 Portia. Tor«, I 
 
 1 arry, j ew • 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. 
 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 
 If it he j)rov'd against an alien 
 
 'I'hat hy direct or indirect attempts 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he' doth contrive 
 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; ine other half 
 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state • 
 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 
 Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st 
 
 l^or It appears, hy manifest proceeding 
 
 Ihat, mdirectly, and directly too, 
 
 Thou hast contn\-cl against the very life 
 
 Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd 
 
 1 he danger formerly by me rehears'd 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke ^ 
 
 GraUauo^ Beg that thou mayst have leave tThang thyself- 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state ^ 
 
 I hou hast not left the value of a cord • 
 Therefore thou must be hang'd at the 'state's charge. 
 
 nuke, Ihat thou Shalt see the difference of our spirit 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it • 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
 The other half comes to the general state 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine 
 Portia. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. 
 
 Youtr """I: *'^' "' "'' '"^ ""'' ' P^^^°" "«t that : 
 Vou take my house when you do take the prop ' 
 
 51 
 
 I' 
 
 ONIAKIO COLLEGE OF EDUCATION 
 
52 
 
 THE man SCHOOL READER. 
 
 'I'hat doth sustain my house ; you take my life 
 V\ he!i you do take the means whereby I live. ' 
 Portia. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 
 GraUano.X halter gratis ; nothing else, for (lod s sake 
 Antonu, So please my lord the duke, and all the court," 
 I o quit the fine for one half of his goods 
 I am content, so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, to render it, 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter : 
 Two things ,)rovided more,-that, for this favor 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do record a gift, 
 Here in the court, of all he dies possessed, 
 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter 
 
 Duke. He shall do this ; or else I do recant 
 1 he pardon that I late pronounced here 
 Portia Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say? 
 ^/ij/ock. I am ccrtent. 
 
 ^^''f "^l Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 ^/ly^oc/:. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence • 
 I am not well : send the deed after me 
 And I will sign it. 
 
 Duke. Oet thee gone, but do it. 
 
 HadTtr" -^"i '^"f "'"^^ ^'^«" •'^halt have two godfathers ; 
 Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more 
 
 I^nk. S,r I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 Portta. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon : 
 1 must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet I presently set forth. ' 
 
 P>nke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not 
 Antomo, gratify this gentleman, 
 For, m my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
OF BOLDNESS. 
 
 53 
 
 IV. OF BOLDNESS. 
 
 Lord Ha( on. — 1561-1626. 
 • l-'rom Essays. 
 
 It is a trivial grammar-scliool text, but yet worthy a 
 wise n,a,^sco„sideratio„ : question was aslced of Demos 
 henes, wliat was the chief part of an orator ? He answered 
 acfon : what next? aetion : what next again ? acIL 
 He sa,d It that knew it best, and ha.l by nature himself 
 
 that wlTt '"f '''^' "^ '=°'"'"^"''^^- ^ ''-"S^ S 
 rather the virtue of a player, should be placed so high 
 above those other noble parts, of invention, elocution 
 and he rest ; nay, almost alone, as if it wer; all in al ' 
 Bu the reason ,s plain. There is in human nature gen 
 erally more of the fool than of the wise ; and therefore 
 hose faculties by which the foolish part of men s mi^: 
 taken, are most potent. Wonderful like is the case of 
 boUlness ,n c.v-il bu,sine,ss ; what first? boldness: whl 
 ■second and third ? boldne.s.s. And yet boldness is a chik 
 of .gnorance and ba.sencss, far inferior to other- parts bu 
 nevertheless, it doth fascinate, and bind hand and' foot 
 tho.se that are either shallow in judgment or weak in 
 
 Hith wrsc men at weak times ; therefore we s.c it hath 
 •lone wonders in popular states, but with .senates and 
 princes less ; and more, ever upon the first entrance of 
 bold persons mto action, than .soon after ; for boldness is 
 an III kee,«r of promise. Surely, as there are mounte- 
 banks for the natural body, .so are there mountebanks for 
 Ihe pohuc body-men that un,lerlake great cures, and 
 perhaps have been lucky in two or three experiments but 
 
 i1»««M 
 
 1 
 
54 
 
 f 
 
 T//E HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 assembled : Mahomet callJ fh Tu ^^ P'^°l'''= 
 
 again and again ; a7d rhe"hm rod™! t '''"" 
 never a whit abashed, but said " If the h^M ' '^ 
 
 to Mahomet, Mahom;t wil, go to L hni "oht """= 
 
 they win tit' u S;::; trr" °'' ''°"'"^^^- 
 
 ado. Certain!,, f„ ; '"' "* ""•"' ^"^ "» more 
 
 are spoHtn Ha? f:rti"ttr:' '°'? ''^'^^- 
 
 ne. i. s:E "r.trmfatXnsSrit'^f 
 
 po.st.re, ::itdVrm::Lr °: t:zT ^-t ^°°^™ 
 
 do a Jittic P-o ;inr1 .. u bashfulness the spirits 
 
 occasion,l^;sr^dri"^r,''?'"! ■"-' "P^ ^'^^ 
 it is no mate but vrt fl ' ''''' '^ "'''^''*' ^^^re 
 
 were fitTcr for '^a • r""*;''"™' ■^^'■' ^ but this last 
 This is ",l' L^ "'l/-^^-'-! observation. 
 
 for it seeth not danZr aml'i " " "''' "'"^' 
 
 He that ca^mot see zuell, let him go softly. 
 
 Bacon. 
 
tinot hold 
 es do Ma- 
 lieve that 
 )f it offer 
 ic people 
 ' to him 
 » he was 
 lot come 
 lese men, 
 led most 
 coldness, 
 no more 
 persons 
 5o bold- 
 3surdity 
 at bold- 
 V it is a 
 enance, 
 wooden 
 ; spirits 
 on like 
 :, where 
 his last 
 vation. 
 blind, 
 ;forc it 
 "ht use 
 ef, but 
 for in 
 not to 
 
 TO DAFFODILS. 
 V. TO DAFFODILS. 
 
 Robert Herrick.-i594_i674. 
 Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 
 
 You haste away so soon ; 
 As yet the early-rising sun 
 Has not attain'd his noon. 
 Stay, stay. 
 Until the hasting day 
 
 Has run 
 But to the even-song ; 
 And, having pray'd together, we 
 Will go with you along. 
 
 We have short time to stay, as you ; 
 
 We have as short a spring ; 
 As quick a growth to meet decay, 
 As you, or anything. 
 We die 
 As your hours do, and dry 
 Away 
 Like to the summer's rain ; 
 Or as the pearls of morning's' dew, 
 Ne'er to be found again. 
 
 « 
 
 3N. 
 
 Stone walls do not o prison make, 
 
 J^or iron bars a cage ; 
 Minds innocent and guiet take 
 
 That for a hermitage: 
 If I have freedom in my love. 
 
 And in my soul am free 
 Angels alone, that soar above. 
 Enjoy such liberty, 
 
 Richard Lovelace.— 1618-1658. 
 
56 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 VI. OF CONTENTEDNESS IN ALL ESTATES AND 
 
 ACCIDENTS. 
 
 B 
 
 Jeremy Taylor.— 1613-1667. 
 I'^nun Ii()i,Y Living. 
 
 Virtues and discourses are, like friends, necessary in 
 all fortunes ; but those are the best, which are friends in 
 our sadnesses, and support us in our sorrows and sad acci- 
 dents : and ,n this sense, no man that is virtuous can be 
 friendless ; nor hath any man reason to complain of the 
 Diymc Providence, or accuse the public disorder of things 
 or m his own infelicity, since God hath appointed one 
 remedy for all the evils in the world, and that is a con- 
 tented spirit: for this alone makes a man pass through 
 fire, and not be scorched ; through seas, and not be 
 drowned ; through hunger and nakedness, and want 
 nothing, l^or since all the evil in the world consists in 
 the disagreemg between the object and the appetite as 
 when a man hath what he desires not, or desires what he 
 nath not, or desires amiss ; he that composes his spirit to 
 the present accident, hath variety of instances for his 
 virtue, but none to trouble him. because his desires en- 
 large not beyond his present fortune : and a wise man is 
 placed in the variety of chances, like the nave or centre 
 of a wheel, in the midst of all the circumvolutions and 
 changes of posture, without violence or change, save that 
 1- ^i^ i;\c-"Pliance with its changed parts, and 
 s indifferent which part is up, and which is down • for 
 here ,s some virtue or other to be exercised, whatever 
 happens either patience or thanksgiving, love or fear 
 moderation or humility, charity ,. contentedness, ad 
 they are every one of them equally in order to his great 
 
OF CONTENTEDNESS IN ALL ESTA TES. S7 
 
 end and immortal felicity : and beauty is not made by 
 white or red, by black eyes and a round face, by a straight 
 body and a smooth skin ; but by a proportion to the 
 fancy. No rules can make amiability ; our minds and 
 apprehensions make that : and so is our felicity ; and we 
 may be reconciled to poverty and a low fortune, if we 
 suffer contentedness and the grace of God to make the 
 proportions. For no man is poor that does not think him- 
 self so : but if, in a full fortune, with impatience he desires 
 more, he proclaims his wants and his beggarly condition. 
 But because this grace of contentedness was the sum of all 
 the old moral philosophy, and a great duty in Christian- 
 ity, and of most universal use in the whole course of our 
 lives, and the only instrument to ease the burdens of the 
 world and the enmities of sad chances, it will not be amiss 
 to press it by the proper arguments by which God hath 
 bound it upon our spirits ; it being fastened by reason 
 and religion, by duty and interest, by necessity and con- 
 vcniency, by example, and by the proposition of excellent 
 rewards, no less than peace and felicity. 
 
 Contentedness in all estates is a duty of religion ; it 
 is the great reasonableness of complying with the Divine 
 Providence, which governs all the world, and hath so 
 ordered us in the administration of his great family. 
 Pie were a strange fool that should be angry because dogs 
 and sheep need no shoes, and yet himself is full of care 
 to get some. God hath supplied those needs to them by 
 natural provisions, and to thee by an artificial : for he 
 hath given thee reason to learn a trade, or some means to 
 make or buy them, so that it only differs in the manner 
 of our provision : and which had you rather want, shoes 
 or reason ? and my patron, that hath given me a farm, is 
 freer to me than if he gives a loaf ready baked. But, 
 
 ' in 
 
 hi: 
 
S8 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 fsThc 'sh ' m"; ^'"'^ '""^ '^^"^ ^'"^' -^ therefore it 
 IS fit he should dispense them as he pleases ; and if we 
 murmur here, we mav af fK« . . 
 
 troubled that bod d,"Tot Ike „s "1 " l' "'^' ""^ 
 Kor if that wh.-ch we are^T t eT n'o^t ' rtenrufTe 
 
 beside our being or our possessions 
 
 God is the master of the scenes ; we must not choose 
 which part we shall act ; it concerns us only to be careful 
 hat we do It well always saying, " ,f this please God e 
 ■t be as It IS :'• and we, who pray that God^ will maJ be 
 done ,n earth as ,t is in heaven, must remember that the 
 angels do whatsoever is commanded them.and go wherever 
 they are sent, and refuse no circumstances ; and if their 
 employment be crossed by a higher decree, ihey sit down 
 n peace, and rejoice in the event ; and when the angel of 
 Judea could not prevail in behalf of the people committed 
 to his charge, because the angel of Persia opposed it he 
 only told the story at the command of God and wis as 
 content, and worshipped with as great an e^stasyTnh 
 proportion, as the prevailing spirit. Do thou so iLwise 
 keep the station where God hath placed you, and you 
 shall never long for things without, but sit I ^^.^kZ 
 .ng upon the Divine Providence and thy own real^n bv 
 
 his''c;eatu"rl'"A*' *°''''' '"'^'^ '''"""^ ^re not we 
 
 pltte Tno .7 "°' ^ "'y ■■" '^' ''='"«' °f the 
 
 potter? Do we not live upon his meat, and move bv 
 
 h.s strength, and do our work by his Ight? A e ^^ 
 any thing but what we are from him ? A^nd shaM Th„Te 
 
 M::7Zr7V': '-^'^ -^ '^-"^. because the 
 lord or their shepherd chooses their pastures, and suffers 
 
wc 
 
 OF CONTENTEDNESS IN ALL ESTA TES. 59 
 
 them not to wander into deserts and unknown ways ? If 
 we choose, we do Jt so foolishly that we cannot like it 
 long, and most commonly not at all : but God, who can 
 do what he pleases, is wise to choose safely for us, affec- 
 tionate to comply with our needs and powerful to exe- 
 cute all his wise decrees. Here, therefore, is the wisdom 
 of the contented man, to let God choose for him ; for 
 when we have given up our wills to him, and stand in 
 that station of the battle where our great General hath 
 placed us, our spirits must needs rest while our conditions 
 have for their security the power, the wisdom, and the 
 charity of God. 
 
 Contentedness in all accidents brings great peace of 
 spirit, and is the great and only instrument of temporal 
 felicity. It removes the sting from the accident, and 
 makes a man not to depend upon chance and the uncer- 
 tain dispositions of men for his well-being, but only on 
 God and his own spirit. We ourselves make our fortunes 
 good or bad ; and when God lets loose a tyrant upon us, 
 or a sickness, or scorn, or a lessened fortune, if we fear to 
 die, or know not to be patient, or are proud, or covetous, 
 then the calamity sits heavy on us. But if we know how 
 to manage a noble principle, and fear not death so much 
 as a dishonest action, and think impatience a worse evil 
 than a fever, and pride to be the biggest disgrace, and 
 poverty to be infinitely desirable before the torments of 
 covctousness ; then we who now think vice to be so easy, 
 and make it so familiar, and think the cure so impos- 
 sible, shall quickly be of another mind, and reckon these 
 accidents amongst things eligible. 
 
 But no m.an can be happy that hath great hopes and 
 great fears of things without, and events depending upon 
 other men, or upon the chances of fortune. The rewards 
 
 mi 
 
 
THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 1^:^,^^ "" "--■•"- f- "- natural 
 to die with an rr 1, "'"'^ ""'">' *'"-»'^ than 
 
 passion concerning thin,: :. ht he^^rr 1? To" if 
 •nemy sha 1 give h,m leave ; and it is ten to one but hr 
 
 mm , lor so the adder teaches i:s where to strik-^ h.. i, 
 cur^us and fearful defending of he: hid" Tht old 
 
 —ed, ..,,,,-■ winrr-rc^^^ 
 
 himself :bu Tnot't '""^ """"">■ '" ^'^^^ "^an 
 
 first nr «I ■ """"• '"■ '"-morrow, I will dine 
 
 otter"^™::"' Th« tTrr t-,""-^^ ^^"-^ ^-^ - - 
 
 with the di;couI^•^;f"k'';:^.';'t•^°p'^^' 'V'" '^""' 
 
 soever state , am, thert i h t be cont^ f 7t'" Ti 
 how to be abased anrf F i "'^ "n'ent I know both 
 where and in alH • , •"' ''°"' '° '"'"""d: ever), 
 
 and to be unt bTh '"^ ""';"""'' "^"^ *° ^^ f"" 
 
 dei,berat,on, and therefore neither are they fit for 
 
TO LUCASTA, OAT GOING TO THE WAnS. 6t 
 
 our passions. My fear may make mc misorablc, but it 
 cannot prevent what another hath in his power and pur- 
 pose ; and prosperities can only be enjoyed by them who 
 fear not at all to lose them ; since the amazement and 
 passion concerning the future takes off all the pleasure 
 of the present possession. Therefore, if thou hast lost 
 thy land, do not also lose thy constancy ; and if thou 
 must die a little sooner, yet do not die impatiently. For 
 no chance is evil to him that is content : and to a man 
 nothing is miserable unless it be unreasonable. No man 
 can make another man to be his slave unless he hath 
 first enslaved himself to life and death, to pleasure or 
 pain, to hope or fear : command these passions, and you 
 are freer than the Parthian kings. 
 
 *v 
 
 VII. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS. 
 
 RjcHARD Lovelace.— 1618-1658. 
 
 Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind. 
 
 That from the nunnery 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, 
 
 To war and arms I fly. 
 
 True, a new mistress now I chase, 
 
 The first foe in the field ; 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such 
 As you, too, shall adore, — 
 
 I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Lov'd I not honor more. 
 
 II ^1 
 
 11 
 
091 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL HEADER, 
 
 VIII. ANGLING. 
 
 i 1 
 
 IZAAK WAI.TON.— 1503-1683. 
 
 From TuK Comim.ktk An(;i.kk. 
 
 Venator. — O my good master, this morning walk has 
 been spent to my great pleasure and wonder ; but I pray, 
 when shall I have your ("-ection how to make artificial 
 flies, like to those that the trout loves best, and also hi>w 
 to use them ? 
 
 Piscator.~My honest scholar, it is now past five of the 
 clock ; we will fish till nine, and 'then go to breakfast. Go 
 you to yon sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink 
 under the hollow root of rt ; for about that time, and in 
 that place, we will make a brave breakfast with a piece 
 of powdered beef, and a radish or two, that I have in my 
 fish-bag : we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest, 
 wholesome, hungry breakfast, and I will then give you 
 direction for the making and using of your flies ; and in 
 the meantime, there is your rod and line, and my advice 
 is, that you fish as you sec mc do, and let's try which 
 can catch the first fish, 
 
 Venator. — I thank you, master ; I wi'! observe and 
 practise your direction as far as I am able. 
 
 Piscator. — Look you, scholar, you see I have hold of 
 a good fish : I now see it is a trout. I pray put that net 
 under him, and touch not my line, for if you do, then 
 we break all. Well done, scholar ! I thank you. 
 
 Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite : 
 come, scholar, come, lay down your rod, and help me to 
 land this as you did the other. So now we shall be 
 sure to have a good dish for supper. 
 
ANGLING. 
 
 •3 
 
 v?i\k n.is 
 t I pray, 
 ;irtificial 
 lIso hvAv 
 
 c of the 
 ist. Go 
 )f dritik 
 , and in 
 a piece 
 e in my 
 
 honest, 
 ivc you 
 
 and in 
 ' advice 
 ' which 
 
 ve and 
 
 hold of 
 hat net 
 lo, then 
 
 r bite : 
 ) me to 
 [lall be 
 
 Vena/or.—l am ^dad of that ; but I have no fortune: 
 sure, master, yours is a better rod and better tackhnjf. 
 
 Piscator.—'^'Ay, then, take mine ; and I will fish with 
 yours. Look you, scholar, I have another. Come, do 
 as you did before. And now I have a bite at an(3ther. 
 Oh me ! he has broke all : there's half a line and a good 
 hook l(jst. 
 
 Venator.-— Ay, and a good trout too. 
 Piscator.—'^Ay, the trout is not lost ; for pray take 
 notice, no man can lose what he never had. 
 
 [V/M/„^._Master, I can neither catch with the first 
 nor second angle : I have no fortune. 
 
 J'isratoK— hook you, scholar, I have yet another. 
 And now, having caught two brace of trouts, I will tell 
 you a short tale as we walk towards our breakfast. A 
 scholar, a preacher I should say, that was to preach to 
 procure the approbation of a parish that he might be 
 their lecturer, had got from his fellow-pupil the copy of 
 a sermon that was first preached with great commenda- 
 tion by him that composed it ; and though the borrower 
 of it preached it, word for word, as it was at first, yet it 
 was utterly disliked as it was preached by the second to 
 his congregation ; which the sermon borrower t:om plained 
 of to the lender of it ; and thus was answered : " I lent 
 you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my fiddle-stick ; for you 
 are to know, that every one cannot make music with my 
 words, which are fitted to my own mouth." And so, my 
 scholar, you are to know, that as the ill pronunciation or 
 ill accenting of words in a sermon spoils it, so the ill 
 carriage of your line, or not fishing even to a foot in a 
 right place, makes you lose your labor ; and you are to 
 know, that though you have my fiddle, that is, my very 
 rod and tacklings with which you see I catch fish, yet yo i 
 
^ 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL f^EADER. 
 
 r 
 
 I: 
 
 1 . 
 
 w 
 
 1 
 
 i ; 
 
 1 r 
 i 
 
 '1 
 
 1 
 
 f 
 
 f r 
 
 ^^LTr '^"'"'--^"'-■'^•' """ -. yo" yet have not skill 
 
 f '"'*- " '" " "t-'ht place ; and this must be taufiht voi, ■ 
 for you are to remember, I told you an«lin« t „ , '/ 
 e..her by practiee or a Ion, obsen-ation ':''b: h " ^^ 
 tO^ ths for a rule: when you fish for a trout with a 
 
 than «,U fit the stream m which you fish ; that is to s-.v 
 ■nore .n a ,roa. troublesome stream than in a smaS 
 
 tt h\T!r V'" ""'"' "•' ""^y "^^ - --h as wil Ink 
 tlK. ba.t^to the bottom, and keep it still in motion. Id 
 
 But now let's say grace and fall to breakfast. What 
 say you, scholar, to the providence of an old angler ? do^, 
 not th,s meat taste well? and was not this ph e tS 
 
 rtrr;: :::/- "^'^ ~ -- -- " . 
 
 ye«at.r.~An excellent good, and my stomach excel- 
 lent good too. And now 1 remember Ld find that trl 
 which devout Lessins «n„c . .. -ru . 
 
 that last r,fZu ^t ^^^* P°°' """"' ''"d *ose 
 
 that last often have much more pleasure in eating than 
 
 r ch men and glnttons, that always feed before theTr 
 
 ^omachs are empty of their last meal, and call for more 
 
 for by that means they rob themselves of that pleasure 
 
 that hunger brmgs to poor men." And I do seriously 
 
 approve of that s.ying of yours, "'that you would atht 
 
 be a c,v,l well-governed, well-grounded, temperate poo 
 
 angler than a drunken lord." But 1 hope there s none 
 
 such : however. I am certain of this, tha^ I have been at 
 
 many very costly dinner, that have not afforded me hal 
 
 the content that this has done, for whch I thank God and 
 
 And now, good master, proceed to your nron-i^fiH Hi 
 rection for making and ordering my ardficLf ;;;:-"^ "'" 
 
 "^'^-t^' 
 
c not skill 
 
 or how to 
 
 light you ; 
 
 is an art, 
 
 •oth. JUit 
 
 ut with a 
 
 nore lead 
 
 is to say, 
 
 a smaller 
 
 will sink 
 
 tion, and 
 
 t. What 
 Icr ? does 
 lace well 
 shade us 
 
 • 
 
 :h excel- 
 that true 
 id those 
 ng than 
 re their 
 )r more ; 
 pleasure 
 eriously 
 d rather 
 te, poor 
 is none 
 been at 
 me half 
 rod and 
 
 'sed di- 
 
 ANOr.ING. 
 
 65 
 
 Pisiator,~.Uy honest scholar, I will do it ; for it is a 
 debt due ut.to you by my promise. 
 
 . . Look how it begins to rain !— and by the clouds 
 if I mistake not, we shall presently have a smoking 
 shower, and therefore sit close : this sycamore-tree will 
 shelter us ; and I will tell you, as they shall come into 
 my mind, more observations of fly-fishing for a trout. . 
 
 . . And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is 
 ended with thi^ shower, for it has done raining: and now 
 look about you, and see how pleasantly that mearjou 
 looks ; nay, anc. the earth smells as sweetly too. Come 
 let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days 
 and flowers as these ; and then we will thank God that 
 U'c enjoy them, and walk to the river and sit down 
 quietl)'. and try to catch the other brace of trouts. 
 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright. 
 The bridal of the earth and sky : 
 The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
 
 P'or thou must die. 
 
 Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
 Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye 
 Thy root is ever in its grave ; 
 
 And thou must die. 
 
 Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
 A box where sweets compacted lie ; 
 Thy music shows ye have your closes ; 
 
 And all must die. 
 
 Only a sweet and virtuous soul. 
 Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
 But, though the whole world turn to coal, 
 
 Then chiefly lives, 
 
 %~-t^ 
 
m 
 
 66 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Venator.— \ thank you, good master, for your good 
 direction for fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of 
 the pleasant day, which is so far spent without offence to 
 (lod or man ; and I thank you for the sweet close of 
 your discourse with Mr. Herbert's verses, who, I have 
 heard, loved angling ; and I do the rather believe it, be- 
 cause he had a spirit suitable to anglers, and to those 
 prt'mitive Christians that you love and have so much 
 commended. 
 
 Piscator.^^^^W, my loving scholar, and I am pleased 
 to know that you are so well pleased with my direction 
 and discourse. . . And now, I think it will be time to 
 repair to our angle-rods, which we left in the water to 
 fish for themselves : and you shall choose which shall be 
 . yours ; and it is an even lay, one of them catches. 
 
 And, let me tell you, this kind of fishing with a dead 
 rod, and laying night-hooks, are like putting money to 
 use ; for they both work for the owners, when they do 
 nothing but sleep, or cat, or rejoice ; as you know we 
 have done this last hour, and sat as quietly, and as free 
 from cares under thi.- .sycamore, as Virgil's Tityrus and 
 his Meliboeus did, under their broad beech tree. No life, 
 my honest .scholar, no life so happy and so pleasant, as 
 the life of a well-governed a-gler ; for when the lawyer 
 is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is pre- 
 venting or contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, 
 hear the birds sing, and possess ourselves in as much 
 quietness as these silent silver streams, which we now see 
 glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we 
 may say of angling as Dr. Botcler said of strawberries, 
 " Doubtless, God could have made a better berry, but 
 doubtless, God never did ; " and so, if I might be judge, 
 " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent re- 
 creation than angling." 
 
our good 
 'ymcnt of 
 offence to 
 : close of 
 :), I have 
 ive it, be- 
 to those 
 so much 
 
 n pleased 
 direction 
 e time to 
 water to 
 
 shall be 
 es. 
 
 h a dead 
 noncy to 
 
 they do 
 :novv we 
 d as free 
 /rus and 
 
 No life, 
 isant, as 
 : lawyer 
 1 is pre- 
 3 banks, 
 s much 
 now see 
 >lar, we 
 'berries, 
 rry, but 
 ■ jurfge, 
 :ent re- 
 
 THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 67 
 IX. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 
 
 (1629), 
 
 John Milton.— 1608-1674. 
 
 I. 
 
 This is the month, and this the happy morn, 
 ^Vhcrcin the Son of Heaven's Eternal King,' 
 Of wedded maid and virgin mother born. 
 Our great redemption from above did bring ; 
 For so the holy sages once did sing, 
 
 'rhat he our deadly forfeit should release, 
 And with his Father work us a j)cri)etual p,cace. 
 
 ii. 
 
 That glorious form, that light unsuffcrable, 
 And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, 
 A\herewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table 
 To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 
 I le laid aside ; and, here with us to be, 
 I'orsook the courts of everlasting day. 
 And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. 
 
 III. 
 
 Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 
 
 Afford a present to the Infant (lod? 
 
 Hast the J no verse, no hynm, or solemn strain, 
 
 To welcome him to this his new abode, 
 
 Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team imtrod, 
 
 Hath took no prmt of the approaching Hght, 
 And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright ? 
 
68 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sec how from fir upon the eastern road 
 I'lu' stnr-Ird wiznrds haste with odors sweet f 
 <> run, prevent them with thy humble ode 
 And lay it lowly at his blessed feet ; 
 Have thou the honor fust thy Lord' to greet 
 And jom thy voi, e unto the Angel Choir' 
 I' rem out ius secret altar toueh-d with hallowd fire 
 
 THK HYMN. 
 
 T I' was the winter wild, 
 U'liile the Ileaven-born child, 
 
 AH meanly wrapt, in the rude manger lies ; 
 Nature, m awe to him, 
 Had (\o{V(\ her gaudy trim, 
 
 With her great Master so to sympathi/.e : 
 It was no season then tor her 
 To wanton with Mic Sun, her lusty paramour. 
 
 2. 
 
 Only, with speeches fair, 
 She woos the gentle Air 
 
 'Fo hide her guilty front with innocent snow 
 And on her naked shame, 
 rollute with sinful blame,' 
 ^ 'he saintly veil of maiden white to throw • 
 C onfoimded, that her Maker's eyes 
 Should look so near u])on her foul defunuitics 
 
rUF. HYMN. 
 
 3. 
 
 But he, her fears to rcasc, 
 
 Sent down the nitck-ey'd Peace : 
 
 She, erovvnVl vvitli oHve green, came softly sHding 
 Down tlirougli the turning sphere. 
 His ready harbing-'r, 
 
 With turtle wing the amorous riouds dividing; 
 And, waving wide her myrtle wand, 
 She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 
 
 69 
 
 No war, or battle's sound. 
 Was heard the world around : 
 
 The idle sj)ear and shield were high up hung; 
 'I'he hooked chariot stood, 
 Unstain'd with hostile blood ; 
 
 The trumi>et spake not to the armed throng; 
 And kings sat still with awful eye, 
 As if they surely knew their sovran J.ord was by. 
 
 But peaceful was the night 
 Wherein the I'rince of Light 
 
 His reign of peace upon the earth began : 
 The '.vmds, with wonder whist. 
 Smoothly the waters kiss'd, 
 
 Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, 
 Who now hath quite forgot to rave. 
 While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 
 
 6. 
 
 The stars, with deep amaze, 
 Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, 
 
 Bending one way their precious influence ; 
 
lo 
 
 THE NIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 And will not take their flight, 
 For all the morning light, 
 
 Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence ; 
 Ikit in their glimmering orbs did glow, 
 Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. 
 
 7- 
 
 And, though the shady gloom 
 Had given day her room, 
 
 The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed ; 
 And hid his head for shame. 
 As his inferior flame 
 
 The new-enlighten'd world no more should need ; 
 He saw a greater Sun appiar 
 'I'han his bright throne or burning axletree could bear. 
 
 8. 
 
 The shepherds on the lawn, 
 Or ere the point of dawn, 
 
 Sat simply chatting in a rustic row ; 
 Full little thought they then 
 That the mighty Pan 
 
 ^Vas kindly come to live with them below : 
 .Perhaps their loves, or else their sheej), 
 ^^'as all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. 
 
 ' t 
 
 When such music sweet 
 Their hearts and ears did greet, 
 
 As never was by mortal Anger strook, 
 Divinely-warbled voice 
 Answering the stringed noise. 
 
 As all their ^ouls m blissful rapture took : 
 The Air, such jileasure loth to lose, 
 With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. 
 
THE HYMN. 
 
 71 
 
 lO. 
 
 Nature, that heard such sound 
 Beneath the hollow round 
 
 Of Cynthia's seat, the Airy region thrilling, 
 Now was almost won 
 To think her part was done, 
 
 And that her reign had here its last fulfilling : 
 She knew such harmony alone 
 Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union. 
 
 II. 
 
 At last surrounds their sidit 
 
 O 
 
 A globe of circular light, 
 
 I'hat with long beams the shame-faced Night array'd ; 
 The helmed cherubim. 
 And sworded seraphim, 
 
 Are seen in glittering ranks with wings disi)lay'd , 
 Harping in loud and solemn choir, 
 With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-born Heir. 
 
 12. 
 
 Such music (as 'tis said) 
 liefore was never made, 
 
 Hut when of old the Sons of IVtorning sung. 
 While the Creator great 
 His constellations set, 
 
 And the well-balancetl -world on hinges hung, 
 And cast the dark foundationa deep. 
 And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep. 
 
 13- 
 
 Ring out, ye crystal spheres ! 
 Once bless our human ears, 
 
 (If ye have power to touch our senses so,) 
 
72 
 
 TlfF. f/n;/f SCHOOL A'/JADI-SA. 
 
 And let your silver. <-liiine 
 Move in inclodioiis time ; 
 
 And let the bass ot Heaven's deep or^an f)low; 
 And witli your ninefold harnionv 
 Make up full eonsort to the angelic symphony. 
 
 14. 
 
 For, if such holy song 
 Enwraj) our fancy long, 
 
 'rime will run hack, and fetch the Age of (lold • 
 And speckled Vanity ' 
 
 Will • icken soon and die; 
 
 And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould • 
 And i:'-:MtselfwilI pass away, 
 And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 
 
 U ■ 
 
 Vea, Truth and Justice then 
 Will down relmii to men, 
 
 C)rl.\| in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing 
 Mercv will sit helween, ' ' 
 
 'i'hron'd in celestial sheen, 
 
 With radiant tec^t the tissu'd clouds down steering- 
 And I ka\ en, as at some festival, ' 
 
 A\ni open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. 
 
 16. 
 
 But wisest Fate says, No, 
 'rius must not yet be so ; 
 ^ The Habe yet lies in smiling inflincy, 
 That on the bitter '^ross 
 Must redeem our loss ; 
 
 So both himself and us to glorify : 
 yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep. 
 The waReful trump of doom must thunder through the deep 
 
THE HYMN. 
 
 n 
 
 ^7. 
 \VitIi sucli a horrid clnng 
 As on Moiiiil Sinai rang, 
 
 While the red fue and' snumld'nng clouds out brake : 
 I lie aged Larth, aghast, 
 With terror of that blast, 
 
 Shall from the surface to the centre shake : 
 ^\hcn, ..• the world's last session 
 The dreadful Judge „. nuddle a.^ shall spread his throne. 
 
 i8. 
 
 And then at last our bliss 
 Kull and perfect Js, 
 
 Hut now begins ; for from this happy day 
 I Me Old Dragon I'nder ground, 
 In straiter limits bound, 
 
 Not half so i,.r casts his usuriK'd sway • 
 And, wroth to see his kmgdom fail, 
 Swinges the scaly horror of his /ulded tail 
 
 19. 
 
 The Oracles aiv dumb ; 
 No voice or hideous hum 
 
 Runs througii the arched roof in words deceiving. 
 Apollo from his shnne ^ 
 
 Can no more divine, 
 
 \Vitli hollow shriek the steei) of Delphos leaving 
 iN«^ ni^utiy trance, or breathed spell. 
 Inspires the pale-ey'd i)riest from the prophetic cell. 
 
 20. 
 
 'i'he lonely mountains o'er, 
 And the resounding shore, 
 A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ; 
 
74 
 
 Tin-: iiii :ii s( //( )< )/ /,7.;./ / ,/,•/;, 
 
 n 
 
 >Mi liaiinli-d spring, mikI (|;ili> 
 
 I'M.u'tl Willi |i(i|t|.,i |».iU 
 
 ri 
 
 u' iMiliMi; Ciniiis is will) si^liing sojit 
 
 N\ ilh llowi'i iiiw 
 
 OM'U tussis tdlli 
 
 lu- Nymphs in twilight sIkuIc ol l.iuglol ihukols iii,,i,m. 
 
 In « (mso<M;Uo(l iMtth, 
 And oil ilu- lu)lv lii-arth. 
 
 I lu' l,.irs, ami I .i-i 
 
 miivs. n 
 
 In mils, ami allais nuiml, 
 A tliiMT ami ilyinn souml 
 
 U)an with inidiiii-hl jilaiiil 
 
 Airiighis tlu> I'l, 
 
 Ami iho ( h 
 W 
 
 muiis at ilu'ir sotvico (iiiaiiu 
 
 III niarhli- si-niis to sweat 
 
 I'lo cmU po iiliai P.iwcr forgoes his wontal seat. 
 
 ■ 
 
 il 
 
 Vcov, ami Uaalim, 
 Korsake iheir temples dim, 
 
 \N ith ihat t 
 
 Ami nuHined Asluaiotl 
 
 wKehaiier'd Cod ot" Palestine- 
 
 11 
 
 eaven'.s ijiieen and mother hoih 
 
 N 
 
 ow sits not um with tapers' holv si 
 
 line 
 
 The l.iinc Hammon shrinks his horn 
 
 In vain the lynan mauls their wounded Thammiu mourn. 
 
 23. 
 
 And sullen ^[olo^h, fluj. 
 Hath left in sluuiows dread. 
 
 His hmnmg idol all of hlaekest hue ; 
 In vain with evmhals' ring 
 
 'I'iiey eall the grisly king, 
 
 In (hsm.ii danee about fhc furnaee hlue ; 
 The !)rutish gods of Ni'- as fast, 
 Isis, and Orus, and the dog Aiiubis, liaste. 
 
irn. 
 
 THE HYMN. 
 
 24. 
 
 Nor is Osiris stvn 
 
 III Mompliiaii grove or ^rccn, 
 
 rr.imi)liiig llic uiKshowcr'd griias with lowings loud ; 
 Nor ( an h'j bo at rest 
 Within his sacred <hcsl ; 
 
 Naught but profoundcst llcll can be his shroud ; 
 In vain, with tiinbreil'd anthems dark, 
 'The sablc-stoll'd sorcerers bear his w()rshi|)|)'d ark. 
 
 75 
 
 1 le feels from juda's land 
 The <lreaded Infant's hand ; 
 
 'I'he rays of bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; 
 Nor all the gods beside 
 l,onger dare abide, 
 
 Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : 
 Our Mabe, to sliow his (lodhead true, 
 Can in his swatldling bands control the damned crew. 
 
 irn. 
 
 26. 
 
 So. when the sun in bed, 
 ('urtain'd with cloudy red, 
 
 Pillows his chin upon an orient waw, 
 The Hocking shadows ])alo 
 Troop to the infernal jail, 
 
 I'lach fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave ; 
 And the yellow-skirted fays 
 l'"ly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze. 
 
 27. 
 
 But see ! the Virgin blest 
 Math laid her iiabe to rest. 
 Time is our tedious song should here have endinr. 
 
Ifl { 
 
 Jfy 
 
 TffE HIGH SC//0()/, A'AW/>£7i'. 
 
 '-leaverj's youngest teemed star, 
 
 Hath i\\d her j>olish'd car, 
 
 Her .Icepin,. [.ord with handmaid lam,, attending , 
 And a!l about the courtly stahle 
 Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable 
 
 n / 
 
 If 'i' « 
 
 X. CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND. 
 
 I.0HI1 c:i.ARENrJON._i6o8-i674. 
 /■>,«« HlSTORV 01 -III. RkrKI.I.ION. 
 
 In this unhappy battle [of Xewbury] was .slain the 
 LonI V,scount FalHan.l ; a person of ™ch p,o,,^'' 
 
 ..uts of learnnig and knoulaige, of that ,„i,ni table 
 Mveetness an. delight in conversation, of .so flou-ing .^d 
 
 |bl.g.ng a humanity and sooclne.ss to mankind, ami o 
 that pnmn.ye .simplieity and integrity of life, that if there 
 were no other bran.l upon this odious and aecurse-i civil 
 
 cxcciablc to all posterity. 
 
 Hoforc this parliament, hi.s condition of life ,vas so. 
 'app>- that ,t «as hardly capable of improvement 
 Before he can,c to be twenty years of age, he was „,a.st 
 of a nob e fortune which de.scen.led to him by the gift of 
 .grandfather, without passing through hit father o 
 "K.lier, who were then both alive, and not well enou^dT 
 contented to fin.I then,selves pa.ssed by in the descent 
 His education for some years ha.l been in Irelan.l where 
 h.s father was lord-deputy ; so that, when he ret rn d 
 .nto Kng and, to the posse.ssion of his fortune, he was 
 "nentangled with any acquaintance or friend , wh ch 
 
^T- 
 
 CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND. jy 
 
 usually grow up by the custom of conversation ; and 
 therefore was to '^al e a pure lection of his company; 
 winch he chose b> other rules than were prc.s ribed to 
 the young nobilitv of that time. And it cannot be 
 denied, though he admitted some: few to his fncndship 
 for the agreeablenes , of tlieir natures, and their undoubted 
 afife- tioii to him. that his famiwarily and frier.lship, for llic 
 most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublnnc 
 parts, and of untouched reputation in point of integrity ; 
 and such men had a title o his bosom 
 
 He was a great chcrishcr of wit, nd fancy, and good 
 parts m any man ; and, if he foimd them clouded with 
 po^.Tty r want, a most HI eral .vud bountiful patron 
 towards them, even abo^ his fortune ; of which, in those 
 admmistrations, he wa.s ...ich a dispensr", as, if he had 
 been trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been 
 the least of • ioe in his expense, he might have been 
 thought too prodigal. He was constant and pertinacious 
 m whatsoex . he resolved to do, and not to be wearied by 
 any pains that were necessary to that end. And, there- 
 fore, having once resolved not to see London, v iich he 
 loved above all places, till lie had perfectly lea. cd the 
 Greek tongue, he went to I -"s (. n house in the country, 
 and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it 
 will not be believed in how short a time he was master 
 of it, and accurately read all the Greek historians. 
 
 In this time, his house being within little more than 
 ten miles of Oxford, he contracted familiarit and friend- 
 ship with the most p ite and accurate i, n of that 
 university ; who found such an immenseness of wit, and 
 .such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a f'ncy, 
 bound m by a most logical ratiocination, such a \-a.st 
 knowledge, that he was not ignorant m anything, yet 
 
 k 
 
I 
 
 78 
 
 THE ifiaii SCHOOL kkader. 
 
 %i ) 
 
 such an cxc( .ss.vc humility, as if he had known nothin^j 
 that they hv<,ucMitly rrvsortcd and dudt with him. as in a 
 collcp' situated in a purer air; so that his house was a 
 innvers.ty ni a less v.,Iume ; whither they came not so 
 much for repose as study; a.id to examine a.id refine 
 those jr,-osser propositions, which laziness a.id consent 
 made current in vulj^ar conversation. 
 
 He was superior to all those passions and affections 
 which attend vulgar mine . and was guilty of no other 
 ambition than of knowledge, and to be reputed a lover 
 of all good men ; and that made him too much a con- 
 temner of those arts, which must be indulged in the trans- 
 actions of human affairs. 
 
 He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper 
 and .so far from fear, that he seeme<l not without some' 
 api)etite of danger ; and therefore, upon any occasion of 
 action, he alwa>s engaged his person in those troop-, 
 which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders 
 to be most like to be fartliest engaged ; and in all such' 
 encounters, he had about him an extraordinary cheer- 
 fulness, without at all affecting the execution that usually 
 attended them ; in which he took no delight, but took 
 pa.ns to prevent it. where it was not by resistance made 
 nece.s.sary: insomuch that at Kdge-hiU, when the enemy 
 was routed, he was like to ha^•e incurred great peril, by 
 mterposing to .save tho.sc who liad thrown away theiV 
 arms, and aga.nst ^^•hom, it may be, others were more 
 herce f<,r their having thrown them away : so that a man 
 might think he came into the field chiefly out of curiosity 
 to see the face of danger, and charity to pre^'ent the 
 shedding of blood. Yet, in his natural inclination, he 
 acbiowledged he was addicted to the profbssion of a 
 soldier , and shortly after he came to his fortune before 
 
CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND. 79 
 
 he was of age, he went into the Low Countries, with a 
 rcsohition of procuring command, and to give himself up 
 to It ; from which he was diverted by the complete inac- 
 tivity of that summer ; so he returned into I-.ngJand, and 
 shortly after entered upon that vehement curse of study 
 we mentioned before, till the first alarm from the north ; 
 then again he made ready for the field, and though he' 
 received some rei)ulse in the command of a troop of 
 hoI^e, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer 
 with the earl of Ivssex. 
 
 iM-om the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural 
 cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of 
 si/lness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he 
 had never been used to ; yet being one of thcxse who 
 believed that one battle vv^nild end all differences, and 
 that there would be so great a victory on one side,' that 
 the other would be compelled to submit to any conditions 
 from the victor — which supposition and conclusion 
 generally sunk into the minds of most men, and pre- 
 vented the looking after many advantages that might 
 then have been laid hold of— he resisted those indispo- 
 sitions. But after the king's return from Jircntford, and 
 the furious resolution of the two Houses not to admit 
 any treaty for peace, those indispositions, which had 
 before touched him, grew into a perfect habit of uncheer- 
 fulness ; and he, who had been so exactly unreserved 
 and affable to all men, that his face and countenance was 
 always present, and vacant, to his company, and held 
 any cloudiness, and less pleasantness of the visage, a 
 kind of rudeness or incivility, became, on a sudden, less 
 communicable ; and thence, very sad, pale, and exceed- 
 ingly affbcted with the spleen. In his clothes and habit, 
 which he had minded before always with more neatness,' 
 
So 
 
 THE HIGH SCHQOI. READER. 
 
 and .ndustry, and expense, than is usual to so great a 
 
 oul, he was not now only incurious, but too neg?i™ t 
 
 "nd .n h,s reception of suitors, an<l the necessary ,; 
 
 casual addresses to his place, so quick, and l^J-Z 
 
 cvcrc that there wantci not .some m n-str Z's to 
 
 ■mpcMous , from ,vh,ch no mortal man was ever more 
 
 VVhcn there was any overture or hope of peace ho 
 
 sohctous to press anything which he thou-^ht ,ni"ht 
 romo e ,t ; and sitting among his friends, oft^, aft r a 
 do P sdenee, and fre.|„ent .sighs, would, „.ith a sir H and 
 sad accent ,ngemina.te the word Pauc. I>..„a Zx 
 -Hd.l ,>a.ss,onacely profess, " that the ver; ago^ "f the 
 var.and the view of the calamities and dc.tla^o „ he 
 K-mgdom d,d and must endure, took his sleep f 'om h m 
 - wotdd shortly break his heart." This mid si' 
 th.nk, or pretend to think, ''that he was so muTh 
 enamoured of peace, that he would have been > -. 1 h 
 ^,ng .sh<,uld have bought it at any price :' which! 'a 
 most unreasonable calumny As f a man ti? 
 
 ™.self the most punctual and predsj in ^^ i or 
 stance that might reflect «pon eonsciencr or h.lr" 
 
 :^:!rx"";^^ ^- '------ -r:::;::^ 
 
 action 't """"''"^ ^^""'^ *■= '^«"'=' «^ »l-'>--s upon 
 fimnkor^LT''"; «"'"'• ''"' P"' himself into dte 
 imon tht ; ^^^'■""■' ■■^g™^"'' 'hen advanein. 
 
 "pon the enemy, ,vho had lined the hedges on hoth 
 s.des w,th musketeers : from .-hence he tl sh t ' th 
 a musket in the lower nart nf f1, u n '^""^ ^^'th 
 
 instant faJlfn. ^,om h' h • . ^' '"' ''^ '^''^ 
 
 o -'om IM:, hui„e, U:, body way not found 
 
VENI CREA TOR SPIRITUS. 
 
 8i 
 
 till the next morniii^r ; till when, there was some hope 
 he ini^^ht have been a prisoner; thoiij,^h his nearest 
 friends, who knew his temper, received small comfort 
 from that imagination. Thus fell that incomparable 
 young man, in the four-and-thirtieth year of his age, 
 having so much despatched the true business of life, 
 that the oldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge, 
 and the youngest enter not into the world with more 
 '"nnocency : whosoever leads such a life, needs be the less 
 anxious upon how short warning it is taken from him. 
 
 and 
 and 
 the 
 the 
 
 ■*\ al 
 
 XL VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. 
 
 John Dkydkn. -1631-1700. 
 
 Creator Spirit, by whose aid 
 The world's foundations first were laid, 
 Come, visit every pious niintl ; 
 Come, pour thy joys on humankind ; 
 From sin and sorrow set us free, 
 And make thy temples worthy thee. 
 
 O source of uncreated light, 
 The Father's promis'd Paraclete ! 
 Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire. 
 Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; 
 Come, and thy sacred unction bring 
 To sanctify us, while we sing. 
 
 Plenteous of grace, descend from high. 
 
 Rich in thy sevenfold energy ! 
 
 Thou strength of his Almighty hand. 
 
 Whose power does heaven and earth command ; 
 
 Proceeding Spirit, our defence, 
 F 
 
i 
 
 7 7/ A men SCHOOL reader. 
 
 \Mi«'(l(,si (lu>-ii( ..fionunc.s (lisiH'nsi', 
 
 AlKld.mir.sllhy ^in \vithc-l..,|lRMl.V.' 
 
 Ki'liiu- ;iM(l piir^' our carlhy pmls ; 
 l^iit, oh, in(];iiiU';iM(l fnvoiir luMits ! ' 
 Our lr;iiltic-s lu.lp, our vice .ontrol, 
 Siihniit llic> .sriists to (lie soul ; 
 And wlun iv,u'li,o„.s they arc grown, 
 I'Ik-i. hiv iliv hand, ;ni(l hold thiM. down. 
 ('h:isi' Iroui our iiuuds tho inkriLiI loc, 
 And \KM\\ the fruit of I.ow, In-stow ; 
 And lest our icH't should stc-f. ;istray, ' 
 I'roto t and ^uid^. „s in tin- way. 
 iM.iko lis ftiMiial truths re (five, 
 And practise all that wc Ik'Ik-vc:' 
 (;i\o us thy mM, that we may *ee 
 'riu' I'.uher ar^l the S<jn hy thee. 
 Inunorlal honor, endless fani'.', 
 Attend the Ahnighty l-ather's name: 
 'riu- Saviour Son he glorified, 
 U lu) lor lost man's redemption ched : 
 And t-(]ual adoration he, 
 I'lternal Paraclete, to thee! 
 
 Ill 
 
 <it 
 
 XII. LINES PRINTED UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON. 
 
 HUVUKN. 
 
 TiiRKK poets, in three distant ages horn, 
 (lieore, Italy, and Kngland did adorn, 
 'riio fust in loftiness of thought suri)ass'd, 
 She next in majesty, in both the last, 
 i ae for.-e of Nature could no Hirther go ; 
 'i o make a third she joinVi the former two. 
 
 the 
 ri- 
 vir 
 tea 
 spi 
 of; 
 the 
 
(-'A' THE LOVE OE COUNTRY. 
 
 «3 
 
 XIII. REASON. 
 
 1>kvi)i:n. 
 i'rom Rki.k.io Laici. 
 
 Dim as the horrow'd hcnms of moon and stars 
 
 To lonc-ly, weary, wandering travellers, 
 
 Is Reason to the soul ; and as on high 
 
 'I'hose rolling fires discover hut the sky. 
 
 Not light us here ; so Reason's gliuuuering ray 
 
 Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, 
 
 Hut guide us upward to a better day. 
 
 And as those nightly tapers disaj)pear, 
 
 When dav's bright lord ascends our heniisj)here; 
 
 So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight ; 
 
 So dies, and so dissolves, in supernatural light. 
 
 XIV. ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AS A PRINCIPLE 
 
 OF ACTION. 
 
 RiCIIAKI) S I KI.I.K. — 1672-1729, 
 from Vm. lATi.KK, June 10, 1710. 
 
 WllF. N men look into their oun hosoins, and consider 
 the ^rcncrous seeds which are there planted, that inijrju, if 
 rightly cullivated, ( nnoble tlirir lives, and make their 
 virtie venerable to futurity ; how can they, without 
 tears, reflect on the universal <iegcncracy from that pu^ lie 
 spirit, which ought U) be the first and principal motive 
 of all their actions ? fn the Grecian and Roman nations, 
 
 gh to keep up this great incentive, 
 
 thev 
 
 ' were wise cnou 
 
 , 
 
 .11 
 
 m 
 
84 
 
 TlfF. Utaif sc/fOOL READER. 
 
 and ,t was nn,M.ssibIc to he i„ the lashinn without bcinL.' 
 a patriot. All j^allanti)' had its first source from hcco • 
 and to want a war.nth for the pub- welfare, was a' 
 defect so scandalous, that he who w.i. ^ruilty of it had 
 no pretence to honor or manhood. What makes the 
 depravity amon- us, in this behalf, the more vexatious 
 and n-ksomc to reflect upon, is, that the contempt of life 
 IS carried as for amon-st us, as it could be in those 
 memorable people ; and we want only a proper appli- 
 cation of the qualities which are frequent amon- us to 
 be a.s worthy as they. There is hardl)- a mai; to 'be 
 found Who will iK,t fi^dit upon any occasi<Mi, which he 
 thinks may taint his own honor. Were this motive as 
 stron^r i„ cvcrythino- that regards the public, as it is in 
 this our private case, no man would pass his life auay 
 without havin- distinguished him.self by .some oallant 
 instance of liis zeal towards it in the respective incidents 
 of his life and profession. But it is so far otherwise, that 
 there cannot at present be a more ridiculous animal 
 than one who seems to regard the good of others. He' 
 ni CRiI life, whose thoughts turn upon schemes which 
 may be of general benefit, without further reflection is 
 called a projector ; and the man whose mind seems 
 mtent upon glorious achievements, a knight-errant The 
 ridicule among us runs strong against laudable actions • 
 nay, m the ordinary course of things, and the common' 
 regards of hfe. negligence of the public is an epidemic 
 vice. The brewer in his exci.sc, the merchant in his 
 customs, and, for aught we know, the soldier in his 
 muster-rolls, think never the worse of them.selves for 
 being guilty of their respective frauds towards the public 
 This evil is come to such a fantastical iieight, that he is 
 a man of a public spirit, and heroically afibcted to his 
 
ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 ^S 
 
 country, who can ^^o so far as oven to turn usurer with 
 all he has in her funds. There is not a citizen in whose 
 imagination such a one does not appear in the same 
 hght of glory, as Codrus, Satvola, or any other great 
 name in old Rome. Were it not for the heroes of so 
 much j^e^ramL as have regard enough for themselves and 
 then- r.ati-)n to trade with her with their wealth, the very 
 notion of i)ublic love would long ere now have vanished 
 from among us. But however general cT^stom ma)^ hurry 
 us away in the stream of a common error, there is no 
 evil, no crime, so great as that of being cold in matters 
 relatmg to the common g(,od. This is in nothing more 
 consp,cu(>us than in a certain willingness to receive 
 anything that tends to the diminution of such as have 
 been conspicuous instruments in our .service. Such 
 inclinations proceed from the most low and vile cor- 
 ruption, of which the .soul of man is capable. This 
 cff.ices not only the practice, but the ver>^ approbation 
 of honor and virtue; and has had such an effect, that, 
 to speak freely, the very sense of public good has no 
 longer a ])art even in our conversation.s. Can then the 
 most generous motive of life, the good of others, be so 
 easily banished the breast of man? Is it possible to 
 draw all our passions inward? Shall the boiling heat 
 of youth be sunk in pleasures, the ambition of ma^ihood 
 in .selfish intrigues? Shall all that is glorious, all that 
 IS worth the pursuit of great minds, be so easil>' rooted 
 out? When the universal bent of a people seems 
 dixertcd from the .sense of their common good, and 
 common glory, it looks like a fatality, and crisis of 
 imjiending misfortune. 
 
 The generous nations we just now mentioned utider- 
 stnod this so very well, that there was hardly an oration 
 
.„^'»j ^:«r- 
 
 86 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 essential ,|.,alilv \n •„, i, '•'■•'" ■""' '""»' 
 
 '■" - cans. ,w .,c h s """' '"""'" '^-'"""••-•"■.■.s. 
 
 .\llu-nia„s.",sav;hc •■b.K ' " " '■^'^ ■ " '^^^ tl>c 
 
 The advc.sa,y of this ,rra^, ,'■''""'« "/""'*"■ 
 " "'"" "f wily arts an<l HI """-' "■■'' ^l^'*'^'"'''.-, 
 
 occasio,, .0,-vcd fU t '" "'^- "■"■■I'l. wl,„ coul.l, as 
 
 <"■ -Ncnncsn 1 ;:;,■■; ""'7'",' ■^""•' "^ I"---". 
 
 '">.cs taken with a " ,' ' ■' "■'"''^' "•"'"" '-^ — 
 
 ■"oans <live,, them rl tli '""" '""' ' '""' ''J' '"■" 
 .nersio,, f.„. recei^n '" H "'""""" ^'-■"*' """ ^"> 
 «he„ Dcn.«t "rsT^., rr'"' I'l ''-^ '""•' ''•^""- ""' 
 "■••-■ hint of i,ul L ;;'''"' '"V""''""^- "'■''''''■•'' 
 to-ar.,s .lK-,n,.^stm• I bo^c T'"'''t "■''"■■ '" "'^ ''^^■ 
 
 ■"■>.-e favot-able ^^,Z^^ t::^:^' """ -^"""^ 
 superior merit of I) anosthencs ' '"'^'""'' ""^ 
 
 It were to be wished fh.f i 
 'he first prineipio oft i . , i:;/; / ::^. " ^ -- 
 their own sakes ; f„r „.,,e„ ,l,o Id , ,''"?' ^•^^■" ''"'• 
 into their ecndnet. the .^encr lit 7'"" '" "'''""'"'= 
 
 or hopes „f anv p^rt h, ,, ^ ^ ' ''''''-■ "" ^'''e i", 
 
 effect of thnr „', I , ' "" "■■ "■-■'-»• b"' what i.s the 
 by no other ntet: ';;;':"';'•;'•"•'" i'"'^--'->hem 
 
ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 87 
 
 out of the influence of men's fortune or favor, will let 
 tlieni stand or fall by this one only rule ; and men who 
 can bear bein^r tried by it, are always i)opular in their 
 fall. Those, who cannot suffer such a scrutiny, are con- 
 temptible in their advancement. 
 
 But F am here ruimin^ into shreds of maxims from 
 readin^r Tacitus this mornin^r, which has driven me from 
 my rec(.:nmendation of public spirit, which was the 
 intended purpose of this lucubration. 'JMiere is not a 
 more ^dorious instance of it, than in the character of 
 Rej^ailus. This same Rei^ulus was tak'en i)risoner by the 
 Cartha^nniaiis, and was sent by them to Rome, in order 
 to demand some Punic noblemen, who were prisoners, 
 in exchange for himself ; and was bound by an oath 
 that he would return to Carthage, if he failed in his 
 commission. He pn poses this to the senate, who were 
 in suspense upon it, which Regulus observing, without 
 having the least notion of putting the care of his own 
 life in competition with the public good, desired them 
 to consider that he was old, and almost useless ; that 
 those demanded in exchange were men of daring 
 tempers, and great merit in military aff^iirs ; and 
 wondered they would make any doubt of permitting 
 him to go back to the short tortures prepared for him 
 at C.u-thage, where he should have the advantage of 
 ending a long life both gloriously and usefully. This 
 generous advice was consented to ; and he took his 
 leave of his country and his weeping friends, to go to 
 certain death, with that cheerful composure, as a man, 
 after the fatigue of business in a court or a city, retires 
 to the next village for the air. 
 
 When the heart is right there is true patrtotmn. 
 
 Bishop JiKKKiiLKv.- 1684 1753. 
 
88 
 
 THE Hn;ii SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XV. THE GOLDEN SCALES. 
 
 JoM.i'ii Addison. -1672-1719. 
 
 /vvw 'I'lii.; Sl'licTAI 
 
 <>K, A 
 
 I WAS latcl 
 
 ll«-USt 21, I712. 
 
 r s 
 
 bal 
 
 Home 
 
 u'cio-Iiino- the fate 
 
 y ciitcrtainino- Himself 
 
 with 
 
 ancc, i 
 
 comi)arinjj;- 
 
 S ()? 
 
 "Which Jupiter is reprcsentcl 
 
 saire 
 
 f \ 
 
 (cctor and Achill 
 
 as 
 
 'i^^il, uhcreiu that d 
 
 cs. 
 
 with 
 
 w 
 
 cii^hiiio- the Tales of T 
 
 t-^it\' is introduced 
 
 a j)as- 
 
 fonsidered Jiou thi 
 
 "I'lnis and Aiw 
 
 cas. 
 
 th 
 
 c eastern parts of (he world 
 
 une wa\- of thiid<i 
 
 I tl 
 
 as 
 len 
 
 of S 
 
 rupture, where w 
 
 as in those nobi 
 
 n^^ prevailed in 
 
 c are told, that th 
 
 <-^ .^rcat ki 
 
 ie i)assages 
 
 ■ I : • / '"^ <ic,lin. ,1,1(1 hccn \vciL'i<-( 
 
 Pl.Hc.^ .f ,1,, holy untM.-rs, ,1,. Almigluy is ,k.sc,il,c.| 
 - uv,,h„„, UK. „u„nua„,.s i„ scales, ,nal<„j, ,he „. 
 
 •'■"". H, .Xlu-rs, as ucVhino ,|„, ,,cti„„s „f „„,, an, 
 
 .y.".' . .c„- ca unities ...ethc- in a balance. Mi <',„ s 
 
 Nave „ ,sc, vcl „, a fonnc,- pa,... had an eye „. s V 
 
 ese o,eo„„,. „,stances, in that beat.tiful .iescription 
 
 "He. en he represents the archangel and the evil pirit 
 
 as ad, ressn,,. themselves fo,- the cunbat. btU parted bv 
 
 He balance wh,ch appeare,! ,n the heavens, and ,vei hed 
 
 the cnsciuencesofsuch a battle "i^i^nca 
 
 Ihe ICienul, i„ prevent su, h hnrrid Irav 
 Hun« tV,nl, ,„ Heaven his ....Idc, s..ales,'vc, seen 
 i'Vlw.xl Aslrea ami llu- Scorpion sign ' 
 " licrcin all ll,in,i;s created lirst he wei-hd 
 
 "'>■ l"'"l"l""^ ™n,l earth niih l,alanced "air 
 l»'-,Ma,icrp,„se; au„ ponders all evenis 
 
 r 
 
THE GOLDEN SCALES. 89 
 
 Battles and realms : in these he j»iits two weights, 
 The sequel ea<h of parting and of fight : 
 The latter (iiiick up tlew, and ki( k'd the beam ; 
 Which (;al)riel spying, thus hespake the fiend : 
 
 "Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine ; 
 Neither our own, but given ; what folly then 
 To boast what arms can do ! since thine no more 
 I'li.m Heaven permits ; nor mine, though doubled now 
 'J'o tram|)le thee as mire : for proof look uj>. 
 And read thy lot in yon celestial sign, 
 ^^'hero thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak, 
 If thou resist." The fiend look'd up .-nd knew 
 His mounted scale aloft ; nor more : but lied 
 Murm'ring, and with him lied the shades of night. 
 
 These several amusini;- thou.^^hts haviiij^ taken posses- 
 sion of my mind some time before I went to sleep, and 
 minijlini^ themselves with my ordinary ideas, raised in 
 my imaijination a xay odd kind of vision. I was, 
 methf)ut;ht, replaeed in my study, and seated in my 
 elbow-chair, where 1 had indulj^^ed the foreirojnj^r si^ecu- 
 lations, \\'\\\\ my lamp burning by me, as usual. Whilst 
 I was here mcditatiny; on several subjects of morality, 
 and considering the nature of many virtues and vices, as 
 materials for those discourses with which I daily entertain 
 the public ; I saw, methought, a i)air of golden scales 
 hanging by a chain in the same metal over the table 
 that stood before me ; ^hen, on a sudden, there were 
 great heaps of weights thrown down on each side of 
 them. I found upo!) examining these weights, they 
 showed the value of everything that is in esteem among 
 men. I made an essay of them, by putting the weight 
 of wisdom in one scale, and that of riches in another 
 upon which the latter, to show its comparative lightness, 
 immediately " flew up and kicked the beam," 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 \.\\ 
 
 I 'il' 
 
9° 
 
 THH man SCHOOL DEADER. 
 
 But, before [ pr,«:ce(I, r must inform ,x^y reader that 
 these we,Bh,s did not exert their natural .Gravity, till' they 
 were laul ,n the gol.len balanee, insomueh that I could 
 not guess which was light or heavy, whilst I held them 
 ■n my hand. This I found by several instances, T 
 upon my laying a weiglu in one of the scales, which was 
 .nscnbed by the word Kternity ; though I threw in that 
 of tune, prosperity, affliction, wealth, poverty, interest 
 success, with many other weights, which in my hand' 
 seeme<l very ponderous, they «.crc not able to stir the 
 opp<.site balance, nor could they have prevailed, though 
 assisted with the weight of the sun. the stars, and the 
 
 Upon emptying the scales, I laid several titles and 
 honors, with pomps, triumphs, and many weights of the 
 hke nature, in one of them, and seeing a little glittering 
 weight ,e by me, I threw it accidentally into the other 
 scale, when, to my great surprise, it proved so exact a 
 couiiterpoise, that it kept the balance in an equilibrium 
 This httle glittering weight was inscribed upon the edges 
 of It with the word Vanity. [ found there were several 
 other Heights which were equally heavy, and exact 
 counterpoises to one another ; a few of them 1 tried as 
 avarice and poverty, riches and content, with so'me 
 
 There were likewise several weights that n-ere of the 
 same figure, an<l seemed to corresponil with each otiier 
 but were entirely different when thrown into the scales' 
 a.s rehgion and hyp.cri.sy, pedantry and learning, wit and' 
 vivacity. supcTstition and devotion, gravity and wi.sdom, 
 With many others. 
 
 I observed one particular vveijj^ht lettered on b(.th sides 
 and upon applying myself to the reading of it, I found 
 
! 
 
 THE GOLDEN SCALL... 9, 
 
 on one side written, '< /// the diala. of menr and under- 
 neath it. ALAMITIKS ; " on the other s Je w. w, on, 
 "/" the fangv^^, of the ^odsr and underneath, " i.i.ES- 
 ^^^^^'''^ ' i the intrinsic value of this wcij^ht to be 
 
 much jr.eaterthan I ima^niicd, for it overpowered health, 
 wealth, good-fortune, and many other weights, which 
 .vere much more ponderous in my hand than the other. 
 
 There is a saying among the Scotch, that "an ounce 
 of mother is worth a pound of clergy ; " I was sensible 
 of the truth of this saying, when I saw the difference 
 between ^' ■ weight of natural parts and that of learning. 
 The obsL, ition which I made upon these two weights 
 opened to me a new field of di.scoveries, for notwith- 
 standing the weight ( i natural parts was much heavier 
 than that of learning, I observed that it weighed an 
 hundred times heavier than it did before, when I put 
 learning into the .same .scale with it. I made the .same 
 observation upon faith and morality ; for notwithstanding 
 the latter outweighed the former .separately, it received a 
 thousand times more additional weight from its conjunc- 
 tion with the former, than what it had by it.self This 
 odd phenomenon showed it.self in other particulars, as in 
 wit and judgment, philosophy and religion, justice and 
 humanity, zeal and charity, depth of sense and per- 
 spicuity of style, with innumerable other particulars, too 
 long to be mentioned in this paper. 
 
 As a dream seldom fails of da.shinr seriousness with 
 impertinence, mirth with gravity, mcthought I made 
 several other experiments of a more ludicrous nature, by 
 one of which I found that an English octavo was very 
 often heavier than a French folio ; and by another, that 
 an old Greek or I.atin author weighed down a whole 
 library of moderns. Seeing one of my Spectators lying 
 
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92 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 II 
 
 
 V 5 
 
 ii » 
 
 by me, I laid it into 
 
 one of the scales, and flung a 
 
 twopenny piece in the other. The reader will not inquire 
 into the event, if he remembers the first trial which I 
 have recorded in this jjaper. I afterwards threw both 
 the sexes into the balance ; but as it is not for my 
 mterest to disoblige either of them, I shall desire to be 
 excused from telling the result of this experiment. 
 Having an opportunity of this nature in my hands, I 
 could not forbear throwing into one scale the principles 
 of a Tory, and in the other those of a Whig ; but as 1 
 have all along declared this to be a neutral paper, f shall 
 likewise desire to be silent under this head also,'thou<di 
 upon examining one of the weights, I saw the word 
 TEKKL engraven on it in capital letters. 
 
 I made many other experiments, and though I have 
 not room for them all in this days speculation, [ may 
 perhaps reserve tliem for anolhdr. I shall only add, 
 that upon mv awaking I was sorry to find mv golden 
 scales vanished, but resolved for the future to learn this 
 lesson from them, not to despise or value any things for 
 their appearances, but to regulate my esteem and passions 
 towards them according to their real and intrinsic value 
 
 H i 
 
 It must he so —Plato, thou reasonest we/t /— 
 
 Else 7ohence this pleasing hope, this fond desire. 
 
 This tombing after immortality ? 
 
 Or whence this secret dread, and imvard horror, 
 
 Of falling into nought ? IVhy shrinks the sout ' 
 
 Back on herself and startles at destruction ? 
 
 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 
 
 'Tis heaven itself that point', out an hereafter. 
 
 And intimates eternity to man. 
 
 Frum c'a^,— Addison.' 
 
MISJUDGED HOSPI TA LITY, 
 
 93 
 
 XVI. MISJUDGED HOSPITALITY. 
 
 Jonathan Sun t. — 1667 1745. 
 
 From 'I'liK Tati.kk, March 6, 1711. 
 
 Ini^.'niios diiiii issejideliter nrtcs 
 t'.niollil mores. OviD. 
 
 Those inferior duties of life which the French call 
 les petites morales, or the smaller morals, are with us 
 distinguished by the name of good manners or breeding. 
 This I look upon, in the general notion of it, to be a 
 sort of artificial good sense, ada[)ted to the meanest 
 capacities, ::,nd introduced tf) make mankin<l cas)- in 
 their commerce with each other. Low and little under- 
 standings, without some rules of this kind, would be 
 perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies and 
 irregularities in behavior ; and in their ordinary conver- 
 sation, fall into the same boisterous familiarities that 
 one observeth amongst them when a debauch hath quite 
 taken away the use of their reason. In other instances, 
 it is odd to consider, that for want of common di.scretion, 
 the very end of good breeding is wholly perverted ; and 
 civility, intended to make us easy, is employed in laying 
 chains and fetters upon us, in debarring us of our wishes, 
 and in crossing our most reasonable desires and inclina- 
 tions. This abuse reigneth chiefly in the country, as I 
 found to my vexation, when I was last there, in a vi.sit I 
 made to a neighbor about two miles from my cousin. 
 \s soon as I entered the parlor, they put me into the 
 great chair that stood close by a huge fire, and kept me 
 there by force, until I was almost stifled. Then a boy 
 came in great hurry to pull off my boots, which I .in 
 vain opposed, urging that I must return soon after 
 
 (It 
 
 .m 
 
94 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READKn. 
 
 11 . 
 
 dinner In the meantime, the good lady whispered her 
 eldest daughter, an<l slipped a key into her hand. The 
 girl returned instantly with a beer-glass half full of .,.;/,^ 
 ininibilis and syrup of gillyflowers. I took as much as 
 1 hada mmd for; but madam avowed I should drink it 
 oH~for she was .sure it would do me good, after coming 
 out of the cold air-and I was forced to obey ; which 
 absolutely took away my stomach. When dinner came 
 in. I had a mmd to sit at a distance from the fi^c • but 
 they told me it was as much as my life was worth' and 
 set me with m>' back just against it. Although my 
 appetite was quite gone, I resolved to force down as 
 much as I could ; and desired the leg of a pullet. - In- 
 <'';cd, Mr. l^ickerstaff," says the lady, "you must eat a 
 wmg, to oblige me ;" and so put a couple upon my plate 
 1 was persecuted at this rate during the whole meal As 
 often as I called for small-beer, the master tipped the 
 wink, and the .servant brought me a brimmer of October 
 Some tunc after dinner, I ordered my cousin's man, who 
 came with me, to get ready the horses ; but it was resolved 
 I should not stir that night ; and when I seemed pretty 
 much bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to 
 be locked ; and the children hid my cloak and boots 
 1 he next question was, what I would have for supper 
 I said I never ate anything at night ; but was at last in 
 my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that 
 came mto my head. After three hours spent chiefly in 
 apologies for my entertainment, insinuating to me "that 
 this was the worst time of the year for provisions ; that 
 they were at a great distance from any market ; that 
 they were afraid I should be starved ; and that they 
 knew they kept me to my loss," the lady went, and left 
 me to her husband— for they took special care I should 
 
MISJUnc.KI) HOSPITALITY. 
 
 95 
 
 never be alone. A. soon as her back was turne,! the 
 mo ,n,sscs van backward and forward every moment ■ 
 and constantly as they came in. or went ont ma.k a 
 courtesy dire.Hy at me, which, in good manners, I vat 
 force,! to return with a bow, and, " Your humble servant 
 pretty m,,s." Exactly at eight the mother came up 
 and discovered by the redness of her face that supper 
 was not far off ,t was twice as large as the dinne, Tnd 
 my persecufon .loubled in proportion. I desired, at my 
 usual hour, to go to my repo.se, and was conducted to Z 
 chamber by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train 
 of children. T hey importuned me to drink something 
 before I vvent to bed ; and upon my refusing, at last left 
 a bottle of ^/„^4.^, as they called it, for fear I should wake 
 an,l be thirsty in the night. I was forced in the morning 
 to rise and dress myself in the dark, because they would 
 not suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb me at the 
 hour I desired to be called. I was now resolved to 
 break through all measures to get away; and after 
 sifting down to a monstrous breakfast of cold beef 
 mutton, neats' tongues, venison-pastv, and stale-beer' 
 took leave of the family But the gentleman would 
 needs see me part of my way, and carry me a short-cut 
 through his own grounds, which he told me would save 
 half a mile s riding. This last piece of civility had like 
 to have cost me dear, being once or twice in danger 
 of my neck, by leaping over his ditches, and at last 
 forced to aHght in the dirt; when my horse, having 
 slipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up more than 
 an hour to recover him again. It is evident that none of 
 the absurdities I met with in this visit proceeded from 
 an 111 intention, but from a wrong judgment of com- 
 plai.sance. and a misapplication in the rules of it 
 
96 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XVII. FROM THE "ESSAY ON MAN."* 
 
 II f 
 
 If 
 
 Alexandkk roi'K. 
 
 -1688 
 
 1744. 
 
 Heavrn from all creatures hides the book of fate, 
 
 All hut the page i)rescrib'd, their jaresent state ; 
 
 From brutes what men, from men what si)irits know -, 
 
 Or who could suffer being here below ? 
 
 The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day. 
 
 Had he thy reason, would he skip and ]jlay ? 
 
 Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food. 
 
 And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 
 
 O blindness to the future ! kindly given, 
 
 That each may fill the circle marked by heaven ; 
 
 Who sees with equal eye, as (iod of all, 
 
 A hero perish, or a sparrow fall. 
 
 Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd. 
 
 And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 
 
 Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar ; 
 Wait the great teacher I )eath ; and Ciod adore. 
 What future bliss he give.i not thee to know, 
 But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
 Hope springs eternal in the human breast : 
 Man never is, but always to be, blest. 
 The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home. 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 
 
 Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind 
 Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
 His soul proud science never taught to stray 
 Far as the solar walk, or milky way , 
 Yet simple nature to his hope has given. 
 Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven ; 
 
 
 * If the Essay on Man were shivered into fragments, it would not lose its 
 value ; for it is precisely its details which constitute its moral as well as literary 
 beauties. — A. W. Ward, quoted by Mark Pattison. 
 
 11 ti 
 
FROM THE '^KSSA Y ON MAN," 
 
 Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, 
 Some happier island in the watery waste, 
 Where slaves once more their native land behold 
 No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. ' 
 1 o be, contents his natural desire ; 
 He asks no angel's wing, no seraphs fire; 
 Hut thinks, admitted to that equal sky. 
 His faithfiil dog shall bear him company. 
 
 What if the foot, ordaind the dust to tread, 
 Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head ? 
 What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd 
 To serve mere engines to the ruling mind ? 
 Just as absurd for any part to claim 
 To be another, in this general frame ; 
 Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains 
 The great directing Mind of All ordains. 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 • AVhose body Nature is, and (Jod the soul ; 
 That changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
 Oreat in the earth, as in the ethereal frame. 
 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, ' 
 (ilows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent. 
 Spreads undivided, operates unsi)ent ; 
 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part. 
 As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart ; 
 As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, 
 As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : ' 
 To him no high, no low, no great, no small ; 
 He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all. 
 
 All nature is but art unknown to thee ; 
 
 All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; 
 
 All discord, harmony not understood ; 
 
 All ])artial evil, universal good : 
 G 
 
 97 
 
 5j; 
 
r 
 
 n,ii ,. 
 
 98 77//; J//OJ/ SL7/()()/, READER. 
 
 And .s|>ito of |)ri(lc, in frring reason's spite, 
 One truUi is clear. Whatever is, /s ri\-/i/. 
 
 N'icc is a nu)nster of so frightful mien, 
 As, to he hated, needs hut to he seen ; 
 Net seen too oft, fannliar with her face. 
 We first endure, then pity, tiien enihrace. 
 
 ^■irtu()us and vicious every man must he, 
 Vvw in tlie extnine, hut all in the degree: 
 I'he rogue and fool hy fits is fair and wise ; 
 And even the hest by fits what they despise. 
 
 Ik^hold thcrhild, by Nature's kindly law, 
 Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw : 
 Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 
 A little louder, but as empty (|uite : 
 Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, 
 And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age : 
 Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before. 
 Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor i)lay is o'er. 
 
 Has God, thou fool !^ work'd solely for thy good, 
 Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food ? 
 Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
 For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn. 
 Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings ? 
 Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
 Is it for thee the linnet ppurs his throat ? 
 Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. 
 The bounding steed you pomi)ously bestride 
 Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride 
 Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain ? 
 The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. 
 Thine the full harvest of the golden year? 
 Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer. 
 
/'7vV;.l/ THE ''ESSAY ON MAN." 
 
 'i'he hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call, 
 I-ives ()i> the labors of this lord of all 
 
 Know,, Nature's children all divide her rare; 
 The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a bear.' 
 >\hile man exclaims, "See all things for my use!" 
 " See man for mine !" replies a pami)er(l goose : 
 And just as short of reason he must fall, 
 \Mi() (hmks all made for one, not one for all. 
 
 ••or forms of government let fools contest ; 
 ^Vhate'er is best administer'd is best : 
 I'or modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
 His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. 
 In faith and hope the world will disagree, 
 Hut all mankind's concern is charity : 
 AH must he false that thwart this one great end, 
 And all of (Jod that bless mankind or mend. 
 
 Honor and shame from no condition rise ; 
 Act well your part, there all the honor lies. ' 
 I'ortune m men has some small difference made 
 One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade ; 
 The cobbler apron'd, and the jxirson gown'd, 
 The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 
 "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ?" 
 I'll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool. 
 \ou'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk. 
 Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, 
 Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow ; 
 The rest is all but leather or prunello. 
 
 (io : if your ancient but ignoble blood 
 Has crejjt through scoundrels ever since the flood, 
 Oo ! and pretend your family is young, 
 Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 
 
 99 
 
If 
 
 loo THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ? 
 Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards. 
 
 Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
 Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
 Or failing, smiles in exile or m chains, 
 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or l')Iecd 
 Like Socrates, -that man is great indeed. 
 
 An honest mans the noblest work of Cod. 
 
 Know then this truth (enough for man to know), 
 " Virtue alone is haj)j)iness below."' 
 
 . . Never elated while one man's oppress'd ; 
 Never dejected while another's biess'd . . * ' 
 
 See the sole bliss heaven could on all bestow ! 
 \Vhich who but feels can taste, out thinks can know : 
 Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind. 
 The bad must miss, the good untaught will find : 
 Slave to no sect, who takes no private road. 
 But looks through nature up to nature's God • 
 Pursues that chain which links the immense design, 
 Joms heaven and earth, and mortal and divine : 
 Sees that no being any bliss can know. 
 But touches some above and some below ; 
 Learns from this union of the rising whole, 
 The first, last purpose of the human' soul ;' 
 And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, 
 All end, m love of God and love of man. 
 
 * In these two lines, which, so far as I know, are the most complete the most 
 
 :Xpor.i T^i :rr -' "■"-' -- -^ ^^ 
 
 Rusk IN', Lectures on Art, 
 
kULE, HRITANNIA. 
 
 101 
 
 Host 
 :lish 
 
 XVIII. RULE, BRITANNIA. 
 
 James Thomson.— 1700- 1748, 
 Wh. V Britain first, at Heaven's command, 
 
 Arose from out the azure main, 
 This was the charter of the land, ' 
 And guardian angels sang this strain : 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ! 
 Britons never will be slaves ! 
 
 The nations not so blest Us thee, 
 
 Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall, 
 Whilst thou Shalt flourish, great and free, 
 The dreud and envy of them all. 
 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ! 
 Britons never will be slaves ! 
 
 Still more majestic shalt thou rise, 
 
 More dreadful from each foreign stroke • 
 As the loud blast that tears the skies, ' 
 
 Serves but to root thy native oak. ' 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ! 
 Britons never will be slaves ! 
 
 Thee haughty tyrints ne'er shall tame; 
 All their attempts to bend thee down 
 Will but arouse thy generous flame,— 
 But work their woe and thy renown. 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ! 
 Britons never will be slaves ! 
 
 to thee belongs the rural reign ; 
 Thy cities shall with commerce shine • 
 
 I 
 
tOJ THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 All thine .shall be the subject main, 
 And every shore it cin les thine. 
 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves I 
 BritOHb never will be slaves ! 
 
 The Muses, still with freedo.Ti found, 
 
 Shall to thy hapjjy coast repair ; 
 Blest isle ! with matchless beauty crown'd, 
 And manly hearts to guard the lair. 
 Rule, Britannia, rule the waves I 
 Britons never will be slaves ! 
 
 XIX. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 m 
 
 WasHI.N(JTON JRVI.Vd. — 1783-1859. 
 
 /■><).'« The Skktcii Rook. 
 ^ On one 01 those sober and rather melancholy days 
 in the latter part of autumn, when the shadows of morn' 
 ing and evening almost mingle together, and throw a 
 gloom over the decline of the year, I passed sevc.al 
 hours m rambling about Westminster Abbey There 
 was something congenial to the season in the mournful 
 magnificence of the old pile ; and as I passed its thresh- 
 old, It seemed like stepping back into the regions of an- 
 tiquity, and losing myself among t!ie shades of former 
 ages. 
 
 I entered from the inner court of Westminster School 
 through a long, low. vaulted passai^e, that had an almost 
 subterr^jiean look, being dimly lighted in one part by 
 
circular perforations in the massive walls. Throuch this 
 dark avenue, I had a distant view of the cloisters with 
 the figure of an old verger, in his black gown, moving 
 along their shadowy vaults, and seeming like a spectre 
 from one of the neighboring tomba The approach to 
 the abbey through these gloomy monastic remains rjrc- 
 pares the mind for its solemn contemplation. The 
 cloisters still retain something of the quiet and seclu- 
 sion of former days, The gray walls are discolored by 
 damps, and crumbling with age ; a coat o^ hoary moss 
 has gathered over the inscriptions of the mural monu- 
 ments, and obscured the death's heads and other fune- 
 eal emblems. The sharp touches of the chisel are gone 
 from the rich tracery of the arches ; the roses w^hich 
 adorned he keystones have lost their leafy benuty ; 
 everything bears marks of the gradual dilapidations of 
 time, which yet has something tcuching and pleasing in 
 its very decay. 
 
 The sun was pouring down a yellow autumnal ray into 
 the square of the cloisters ; beaming upon a scanty plot 
 of grass in the centre, and lighting up an angle of the 
 vaulted passage with a kind of dusky splendor. From 
 between the arcades the eye glanced up to a bit of blue 
 sky or a passing cloud, and beheld the sun-gilt pinnacles 
 of the abbey towering into the azure heaven. 
 
 As I paced the cloisters, sometimes contemplating 
 this mingled picture of glory and decay, and sometimes 
 endeavoring to decipher the inscriptions on the tomb- 
 stones, which formed the pavement beneath my feet, my 
 eye was attracted to three figures, rudely carved in re- 
 lief, but nearly worn away by the footsteps of many 
 generations. They were the effigies of three of the 
 early abbots ; the epitaphs were entirely effaced ; the 
 
Iji f 
 
 ■f ; 
 
 »4 THE HIGir SCffOOr. REAr>F.R. 
 
 names alone remained, having no doubt been renewed 
 
 Crispmus Abbas. .,,4, and Laurentius. Abbas. ,176) 
 emamed some little while, musing over these casua 
 el, s of ant,qu ty, thus left like v recks upon this dis 
 
 r. K " 1 u ■"=' "^"'"*^ "° '^'« f"" A-' ^«ch beings 
 fuHf. V". ''"' P'""^''^'^ ' '^^^hing no moral but the 
 fufhty of that pride which hopes still to exact homage 
 m ns ashes and to live in an inscription. A little longed 
 and even these faint records will be obliterated, andfhe 
 monument will cease to b. a memorial 
 
 Whilst 1 was yet looking down upon these grave- 
 stones, I was roused by the sound of the abbey clolk 
 
 warniL ft"'"% " " "''"°^' ^'''"""^ '° ^car thi^ 
 Tnd ilf- °^i"^Pr'"' '™" ^"""'''"^ =*"'°"g the tombs. 
 
 ha rolled us onward towards the grave. I pursued mv^ 
 walk to an arched door opening to the interior of the 
 W T P";"*'=""^ here, the magnitude of the build- 
 mg breaks fully upon the mind, contrasted with the 
 vaults of the cloister. The eyes gaze with wonder a 
 clustered columns of g.gantic dimensions, with arches 
 spnngmg flom them to such an amazing height • and 
 man v/andoring about their bases, shrunk into insi<xnifi- 
 cancc in comparioon with his own handiwork. The 
 spaciousness and gloom of this vast edifice produce a 
 profound and mysterious awe. We step cautiously and 
 softly about, as if fearful of disturbing the hallowed 
 silence of the tomb ; while every footfall whispers along 
 the walls, and chatters among the sepulchres, making us 
 more sensible of the quiet we have interrupted 
 It seems as if the awful nature of the place presses 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY 
 
 ' IPS 
 
 down upon the soul, and hushes the beholder into noise- 
 less reverence. We feel that we are surrounded by the 
 congregated bones of the great men of past times who 
 
 IheTrrwr^ ^'* ''-' '^-^- - '•'-art?:t 
 
 And yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanitv of 
 
 human ambition, to see how they are crowded togeth"' 
 
 m doling out a scanty nook, a gloomy corner a Ilttl, 
 port-on of earth, to those whom,\.hen'^.l v k 'ngd ms 
 could not satisfy ; and how many shapes, ;nd forTs 
 and artifices are devised to catch the casual notice ofThe 
 passenger, and save from forgetfulness, for a few short 
 years a name which once aspired to occupy ages of the 
 world's thought and admiration ^ 
 
 an'e^'nTof T""' f'7 '" ''°'''' ^°"'"' "h-h occupies 
 abbev Th ' *''"''P'' °' "°'' «'^1-^ of the 
 
 hwff >> '"°""™'="f^ ^re generally simple ; for the 
 
 sculptor. Shakespeare and Addison have statues erected 
 to the.r memories ; but the greater part have bu s 
 meda bons, and sometimes mere inscriptions Notw^h ' 
 standmg the simplicity of these memorial I hav 'a " 
 ways observed that the visitors to the abb;y remlincd 
 longest about them. A kinder and fonder feeling "kcs 
 place of that cold curiosity or vague admiration with 
 whic^thty gaze on the splendid monuments of the ^rcat 
 and the hero,c. They linger about these as aboufthe 
 tombs o, fnends and companions; for indeed there is 
 omethmg ■ companionship between the author and 
 the reader. Ot'xr men arc tnovn •-, r » 
 through the medium of his'torrwhich ^tZ^ 
 growtng famt and obscure ; but the intercourse bltween 
 
 ill- 
 
)[o6 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 f 
 
 if * 
 
 the author and his fellow-men is ever new, active and 
 immediate. He has lived for them more than for him- 
 self; he has sacrificed surrounding enjoyments, and 
 shut himself up from the delights of social life, th^t he 
 might the more intimately commune with distant minds 
 and distant ages. Well may the world cherish his re- 
 nown ; for it has been purchased, not by deeds of vio- 
 lence and blood, but by the diligent dispensation of 
 pleasure. Well may posterity be grateful to his memory 
 for he has left it an inheritance, not of empty names 
 and soundmg actions, but whole treasures of wisdom 
 bright gems of thought, and golden veins of language' 
 From Poet's Corner, I continued my stroll towards 
 that part of the abbey which contains the sepulchres of 
 the kings. I wandered among what once were chapels 
 but which are now occupied by the tombs and monu- 
 ments of the great. At every turn I met with some 
 Illustrious name ; or the cognizance of some powerful 
 house renowned in history. 
 
 I paused to contemplate a tomb on which lay the 
 ^^ZV of a knight in complete armor. A large buckler 
 was on oi,e arm ; the hands were pressed together in 
 supplication upon the breast ; the face was almost cov- 
 ered by the morion ; the legs were crossed, in token of 
 the V. arnor's having been engaged in the holy war. It 
 was tlie tomb of a crusader ; of one of those military 
 enthusiasts, who so strangly mingled religion and ro- 
 mance, -.nd whose exploits form the connecting link 
 between fact and fiction ; between the history and the 
 fairy tale. There is something extremely picturesque 
 m the tombs of these adventurers, decorated as they are 
 
 with rude armoriai ^^arino-c qnd G'^fK*^ 1-^ ^' 
 
 comport with the antiquated chapels in which they are 
 
PT^STM/JVSmj! ASSEY. 
 
 which pLf; ts spreal'o T ^^'P ^"'^ P^^eantry, 
 of a,rist. The . arTthrV ^"-^ f"-" «"= ^^P^'chre 
 h>, • „f u • ^ " ■'^''" of times utterlv mnp 
 
 I^e o^e f J'l °"^^ ''^^° "° ^ffi-'.- They are 
 
 which we havZ ce:"i„ t""T/"' ''■^'^'" '^"<^- °^ 
 all our conccDtLn knowledge, and about which 
 
 manv of thf u 1"^"^' ''^°' ^"'^ *'^ ^"Periority of 
 Tble wL t f^ "''"'''"' inscriptions. There was a 
 yet saZ; I T' °'" '">"'"^ """g= ^■■'"P'y. and 
 
 tonh rf K "1^'°"'*'^= ""-^ ' d° "ot knowanepi- 
 wor^h ^ ^'^"''' '^ '°''"=^ consciousness of family ' 
 worth and honorable lineage, than one which affi m7of 
 a noble house that "all the brothers were brav and a" 
 the sisters virtuous." ' ^ 
 
 and Ir^'t '" ,"" ^^'^ '° "'°- f"- to™b to tomb 
 
 a ditance the choristers, in their white surplices c-oss 
 iriR the aisle and pnf^-'"- ^u„ _*. . • . "rpuces, c.oss- 
 
 entrance to Henr; thel;::nX;H;rrSttf 
 steps lead up to it, through a deep a':'- gfoojl^l 
 
ro8 
 
 i H 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 proudly reluctant to admit the feet of ^"^''' ^^ '■'" 
 
 into this most gorgeous of scputh'ef """°" '"°'''"^ 
 
 archL:tut:i;,rthre,ire"r '^ '"^ ^-^ °^ 
 
 detail. The vcrv w.lN ^^^^""'^^^ ^^^"ty of sculptured 
 
 Auu very walls are wroiicrhf ;,,f^ • , 
 
 mc„t, incrusted with tracer^". !. universal orna- 
 
 crowded with th» sta.uor.7' ^ ^^°°^^ '■"'° "'^hes, 
 
 secns, by the ct Ig tbor^:^!?'!' T'''^ "'""'^ 
 r"!>bcd of its weight anHH . '^"''' '° ''"^^ ^^^ 
 
 )y n,agic,a„d thettttrorh';;:^!!:'"^'' r ' 
 
 w.th theVeiqL dec'; ;: f ^G^fh"' "t" ^""^"^ 
 On the pinnacles of the s Ilk = « ", ^'-^h'tecture. 
 and crests of the knlLht, w-?k .^ ^^''^^ *^ ""^'^^^ 
 
 and above them are f'stnJ^ th •"■ T"" '""'^ '^'^^'^ ' 
 ed with arrrori-l Xf-^ . ^"' ''^""^'•»' emblazon- 
 
 or.o,d.d™ ts: xs^^^^^^^ 
 
 work of thf roof In th. midst of tL J * ^'^^ '^'='- 
 
 ctands the sepulchre ot .ts founder v''"S ""'"'°''"'" 
 of his queen, extended on a "ut^I^" fey,^-nh that 
 whole surrounded bv a .nnA^ "^ ^°'"^' ^"^ *c 
 
 There is a sal IS t^rf '.r ^^'■"•"^■ 
 strange mi.-;ture of tnmhr J .. "'^gn'fi«nce ; this 
 oflivtagand alirinralv' '7'''- = 'hese emblems 
 which show the dus^ Td 'hr' ". '"'''= ■"^""="'- 
 sooneror later term,n.r Z Z'"" '" ^^'"^ «" ""-=*. 
 with a d Sr feehg of lof, '"' 'T""'=^ *« "'"^ 
 ^.e„t and dLrted";:! „f oStT:Lt! ,1°, '!-<^ "^f 
 On iookmg round on the vacant stalls'^.f^he'k^S'ts 
 
as if 
 
 IVESTMFNSTER ABBEY. 
 
 109 
 and their esquires, and on the rows of dustv h„. 
 banners that were once borne before them m ^"^""' 
 tion conjured ud th^ c. 1. ' ^^ ima^^ina- 
 
 with the talor a'd beamvofl",*!: ''*" *^' ""^ht 
 the splendor of jewelled ^J,, *= '''"'^/ S'''^^""? -"h 
 with the tread oL^TkT^:.L T""^ ""^^^ ^ ^"^« 
 -ulti.ude. All h^d "as ed uvav .h^'r'^" ^'""""^ 
 had settled upon ZTlL ^ ' ^ "'"""^ °'" '^'^«* 
 
 casual chirplnro^blXCearadZlV"'^ "^ '"^ 
 the chapel, and builf tL; ^ """■■ "'^y ""to 
 
 me ; the lower parts of theTbb; were itid '""^^ 
 in the obscurity of twihVht ThT T T t^ '""PP'^'^ 
 darker and darker Thf ffi f""^^ ^""^ aisles grew 
 
 shadows ; .^z^.^^:^!:^^^'^: ''"'' '''-' '■"'° 
 
 strange shapes in the uncertain llhtTh""'''' '''"'""^ 
 crept through the aisles"": 'fe' ^^^/r;"'"/ '^-- 
 grave : and even the distant fo„ f ^, J * °^ "'^ 
 
 ing the Poets' Corner had some, '"^"' '^='^"-'- 
 
 in its sound I slLl , '°"'f""S strange and dreary 
 
 as I passed out a Th^ ITT ^ ^""''"^'^ "^"^> ^''^ 
 closing with a arrin^ '^ u f """ "'"'^'^^^' "'« ^''''r. 
 building :^^ eeh ™^ "°*^^ "^'""'^ -^. ""cd the whole' 
 
 of th^Slctl L°adr ^"-^ ^^^^"^--' '•" -y "..-ncl 
 were already alien in" ZTr'''"""^' ""^ ^-"^ ">«/ 
 Nan,es, insc^ption^ Z^'Z^T '"' ''"^'"^'°"- 
 ed in my recollection though th 1 '"™" confound- 
 
 foot from off the th^sho I W.f, 'Zt T" "" 
 vacf oo^ — LI _ vv nat, tnoucjht J is thf- 
 
 ";r ^-^-""^^age ot sepulchres but a treasure ^.^1,' m 
 at.on ; a huge pile of reiterated hom'rr the^t 
 
 Ml 
 
1 10 
 
 TTrr. manscnooi reader. 
 
 H i! 
 
 U 
 
 ncss of renown and ,ho certainty .,f oblivion I It i, 
 M the en.(„re of ],ea,h : his ^-reat .sha.lowy palace 
 where ho ,s„s „, state, ,.ocl<ing at the rehcs of ,„,?,' 
 Klory, an,l sprc-a.iing .,„st an.l for,.,f„h,ess on he 
 """"""•■"ts of princes. How i.lle a boast, after al ^ 
 the .nnnortah.y of a nan.e I Ti.ne is ever silently t,',;, 
 ."K over h,s pa^es ; we are too n.nch cnKross.-d by ,|,c 
 -..ory of the present, to think of ,h. characters , 
 anecdotes that jjave inter..st to the past ; a„.l each age ' 
 vohune thrown aside to be speclily for.ot.en. Colnm s 
 arches, pyrannds, what are they bu, heaps of san.i • ,nd 
 thc,rep,taphs, but characters written in the d„st W 
 js me secnty of ,> ,o,„b. or the perpet.nly of an em- 
 bal,n„,e,,t ? The re.nains of Alexander the Great have 
 been scattere.1 to the wind, and his empt^ sarcopha™' 
 .s now the „,ere cnriosity of a museum ' « The l4^n 
 fan mumnn-es, which C'au.byses or tin.e hath s.weS" 
 avance now consun.eth ; Mizraim cures wounds and 
 Pharaoh is sold for bals.ims." 
 
 What, then, is to insure this pile which now towers 
 
 ltr/"T, '" ''""^' ""= '■'"'= °f 'ni^'l'tier mauso'- 
 
 leuns? I he ,mc must come when its gilded vaults 
 
 wh,ch now spnng so loftily, shall lie in rubbish beneath 
 
 the feet; when, .ustead of the sound of melody ,ukI 
 
 pra.se, the w,nd shall whistle through the broken arches 
 
 and t^te owl l,oot from the shattere,! tower-when the 
 
 gansh sunbeam shall break into these gloomy mansions 
 
 of death and the ,vy twne round the fallen column- 
 
 and the foxglove hang its blossoms about the nameless' 
 
 urn, as ,f m mockery of the dead. Thus man passes 
 
 away ; h,s name perishes from record an.l recollection • 
 
 h>s mstory ,s as a tale that is told, and his ver^ .' 
 
 ment becomes a ruia, "' "" "'" 
 
THl'. HARD. 
 
 Jli 
 
 >nu- 
 
 XX. THE BARD. 
 
 • ■' I'indnHt Oii,:* 
 I. !. 
 
 "RniN seize fluv, mihlcss K\^^^^ 
 
 (:OMrusi„M(,n thv I..MIIUT.S Wilil • 
 
 '';;;;'MlnaMn,||.y(:on,,uc.srs<nmsoMwinK 
 
 '^^-y '"'"'k the air with idle M.-uc. 
 Hchu, n„r hatilu-rk s twisted .nail 
 
 Nor^-c-M thy virtues, Tyrant, shall' avail 
 
 o save, thy scc:rct scul fr„ni nightly fears, 
 
 SudT ^"'^'■""''''''"^^-"'--teirsr- 
 Surh More the sounds that <,er the c:rested pride 
 
 OftherjrstKdwardseatterdwilddisma> 
 
 As down the steep of Snowd.-s shaggy Sid; 
 
 He wound w,th toilsome march his lon« irriv 
 Stout nio-ster stood aghast in speeehles;^::^: 
 
 lo arms -cnedMortnner, and couch'd his cmv 
 
 ■i (luivering lance. 
 
 2. 
 
 On a rock, whose haughty brow 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
 
 Kobdmthesahlegarbofwoe, 
 ^Vith iiaggard eyes the Poet stood; 
 (Loose his beard, and hoary hair ' 
 'Streamd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) " 
 And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, 
 Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 
 
 T!ii>^ ode is founded on a trad 
 
 wtion lie completed the 
 
 ition currunt in Wales, that E 
 
 dward the F 
 
 into his hands to be pm <q d.jath,,~GRAY 
 
 conquest of that country, ordered all the kr± 
 
 irst. 
 
 s that fell 
 
"2 THE HIGH SCHOOL RIIADER. 
 
 Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, 
 Sighs to the torrent s awful voice beneatl. ' 
 O'er thee, O King ! their hundred arms they wave 
 Revenge on tliee in hoarser murmurs breuche • ' 
 V ocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day 
 To high-born Hoers harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay 
 
 I. 
 
 3- 
 
 \\\ \ 
 
 '* Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 
 'I'hat hushVl the stormy main : 
 Brave Urien sleeps ujjon his craggy bed : 
 Mountains, ye mourn in vain 
 Modred, whose magic song 
 Made huge I'linhmmon bow his cloud-topt head. 
 
 On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, 
 Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale': 
 Far, flir aloof the affrighted ravens sail ; 
 
 The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. 
 Dear lost companifMis of my tuneful art. 
 
 Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, 
 Dear, as the ruddy droj^s that warm my heart, 
 Ye died amidst your dying country's cries— 
 No more I weep. They do not sleep. 
 
 On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, 
 I see them sit ; they linger yet, 
 
 Avengers of their native land : 
 With me in dreadful harmony they join, 
 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. 
 
 II. I. 
 
 " Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 
 The winding-sheet of Edward's race. 
 
 Oive amj)le room, and verge enough 
 The char.v-ters of hell tu trace. 
 
THE BARD. 
 
 Wark the year, and mark the iiiuht, 
 
 When Severn shall re-echo m th'^iffright 
 
 The shrieks of death, through iierkley s roof that ring, 
 
 Shrieks of an agonizing king ! 
 
 She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs 
 
 I hat tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,' 
 iTom thee be born, who o'er thy cc.uniry han-^s 
 
 1 he scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait ^ 
 Amazement m his van, with flight conibind, 
 And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. 
 
 II. 2. 
 
 " Mighty victor, mighty lord ! 
 Low on his funeral couch he lies ! 
 No pitying heart, no eye, afford 
 A tear to grace his obseciuies. 
 
 Is the sable warrior fled ? 
 Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead 
 1 he swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born ? 
 Gone to salute the rising morn. 
 Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zej)hyr blows 
 
 A\ hile j,roudly riding o'er the azure realm 
 In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; 
 
 Youth on the prow, and Pleasure a[ the helm • 
 Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway ' 
 That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. 
 
 n. 3. 
 
 ^ ^ " Fill high the sparkling bowl. 
 The rich repast prepare ; 
 
 Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast • 
 Close by the regal chair 
 
 Fell Thirst and Famine scowl 
 
 A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. 
 H 
 
 113 
 
114 
 
 THE liniU SCHOOL REAPhK. 
 
 m 
 
 Heard )c thf din orhattlc bray, 
 
 l-aiKc to laiK c, and lioisc to horse? 
 
 J-oiig years of havoc urge their destin'd course, 
 And through the kindred s(iuadrons mow their way. 
 
 Ve towers of Jflius, London's lasting shame, 
 With many a foul and midnight murder fed, 
 
 Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame. 
 And spare the meek usurper's holy heatl. 
 Above, below, the rose of snow, 
 
 'I'win'd with her blushing foe, we spread : 
 'i'he bristled boar in inf;;nt-gore 
 
 Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
 Xow, brothers, i)ending o'er the accursed loom. 
 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 
 
 III. T 
 
 " Edward, lo ! to sudden fate 
 (Weave we tiie woof The thread is spun.; 
 
 Half of thy heart we consecrate. 
 (The web is wove. The work is done.) 
 Stay, O stay ! nor thus forlorn 
 Leave me unbless'd, un])itied, here to mourn : 
 In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, 
 They melt, they vanish from my eyes. 
 lUit oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 
 
 Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? 
 Vision-s of glory, spare my aching sight I 
 
 Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! 
 No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. 
 All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail ! 
 
 11 it 
 
 in. 2. 
 
 "dirt with many a baron bold 
 Sublime their starry fronts they rear 
 
 **WJJ 
 
^//A- BAND. 
 
 " 1 carcLd majcsiy, a,,,,^.„ 
 J;"!-- ™<l. a limn divine ! 
 
 H-cy.,„oclain,.sher„f,hc.Bri,„n.|inc.- 
 Hrl.on-por,,lKTaw«-comnK„uiingJc 
 A mpcr-dswecuo virgin-grace. ' ' 
 
 ill. 3. 
 
 "Tlic verse adorn again 
 
 Mene U'ar, and faithful ,.ove, 
 And lr„,h severe, by fairy vU,n drest 
 
 In buskm-,1 n.easures „,„ve 
 lac Grief, and pleasing Pain, 
 
 *^»1. Horror, tyrant cf.hethrohhing breast 
 
 Avo,ce,asofthecherub.choir, 
 Oales from blooming Eden bear • 
 
 And distant warbhngs le.ssen on ;,y ear ' 
 1 hat lost m long futurity expire 
 
 And warms the nations with redoubled ray 
 Enough for me .• with joy I see ^' 
 
 The different doom our fates assign. 
 Be th,ne despair, and sceptred caref 
 
 To trmmph, and to die, are mine.'- 
 He spoke, and headlnp,, fr„,„ ,1. . 
 
 oeepintheroari„gtid:h;i:;j;;;::tli^Sl 
 
 ns 
 
 II 
 
 'p 
 
Il6 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 m\ 
 
 \% "i 
 
 : i ' t 
 
 XXI. ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE CONCERNING 
 AFFAIRS IN AMERICA. 
 
 HOUSli OF LORDS— November i8th, 1777. 
 
 Lord Chatm.vm.— 1708-1778. 
 
 I RISF,, my Lords, to dcclaro my sentiments on this 
 most solemn and serious subject. It has imposed a load 
 upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing' can remove, but 
 which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by a free 
 and unreserved communication of my sentiments. 
 
 In the first part of the address, I have the honor of 
 heartily concurrin^^ with the noble Earl who mf)ved it. 
 No man feels sincerer joy than I do ; none can offer more 
 genuine congratulations on every accession of strength 
 to the Protestant succession. 1 therefore join in every 
 congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the 
 happy recovery of her Majesty. 
 
 But I must stop here. My courtly complaisance will 
 carry me no farther. I will not join in congratulation 
 on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot concur in a blind 
 and servile address, which approves and endeavors to 
 sanctify the monstrous measures which have heaped dis- 
 grace and misfortune ui)on us. This, my Lords, is a 
 perilous and tremendous moment ! It is not a time for 
 adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now 
 avail — cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It 
 is now necessary to instruct the Throne in the languaiie 
 of truth. We must dispel the illusion and the darkness 
 which envelop it, an .1 display, in its full danger and true 
 colors, the ruin that h- brough": to our doors. 
 
 This, my Lords, is t.u - -iuiy. It is the proper function 
 of this noble assembly, sittiiig, as we do, upon our honors 
 
OIV AN ADimcSS TO T,U: THRONE. „7 
 
 '^^^t ttr,-. -t'^v '■"•^' 7"'"=^' "^ "- ^^"'"■•■ 
 
 .s..-.u.io„ai 1^ : , , : . "'■'t;."^'-' r"""^^-' "'"-■""- 
 
 'iii^u.i^c tills d.iy (Ic ivcrcc frDm if 5 r'K 
 accus,o„K.,l |.„^,„,,^,e fr,„n ihc Th,-..c hn be ' ' 
 
 catK,,, ,„ |.a,lia„,cnt for advice u, . r ''"^ 
 
 cncu caic of Parliament but iho fVnun r • .J 
 ■ by itself, declares an unaUe "b lle^ I na;;:: T "' 
 mea,sures-and what .neasures, my o d • ''"""'' 
 «irts that have Drcduced ,h '^' ""■■" 
 
 rr -—-- •.:=;/:;:;;;::; 
 
 Can the minister of the rl-Mr .,^^, 
 
 continuance of sunpotrnt^ ^'''"'^""'' '' '■'^'''' ' 
 
 Parliamenf- K T , '"'"""' "ifatuation ? Can 
 
 laiiiamc.it be so dead to its di^nitv.nrl .f i . 
 
 be thus deluded into the loss of rh "\ "'^ ^' ^" 
 
Ii8 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 m 
 
 fc 
 
 B '' ' ' 
 
 France, my Lords, has insulted you ; she has encour- 
 aged and sustained America ; and, whether America be 
 wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to 
 spurn at the officious insult of French interference. The 
 ministers and ambassadors of those who are called rebels 
 and enemies are in Paris ; in Paris they transact the 
 reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there 
 be a more mortifying insult ? Can even our ministers 
 sustain a more humiliating disgrace? Do they dare to 
 resent it } Do they presume even to hint a vindication 
 of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by reciuiring 
 the dismissioti of the plenipotentiaries of America? 
 Such is the degradation to which they have reduced the 
 glories of England ! The people whom they affect to 
 call contemptible rebels, but whose growing power has 
 at last obtained the name of enemies ; the people with 
 wh()m they have engaged this country in war, and 
 against whom they now command our implicit support 
 in every measure of desperate hostility— this people, 
 despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, are' 
 abetted against you, supplied with every military store, 
 their interests consulted, and their ambassadors enter- 
 tained, by your inveterate enemy ! and our ministers dare 
 not interpose with dignity or effect. Is this the honor 
 of a great kingdom ? Is this the indignant spirit of 
 England, who " but yesterday " gave law to the house of 
 Bourbon ? My Lords, the dignity of nations demands 
 a decisive conduct in a situation like this. 
 
 My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, 
 where we can not act with success, nor suffer with honor,' 
 calls upon us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest 
 language of truth, to rescue the ear of maiesty from the 
 delusions which surround it. The desperate state of our 
 
arms abroad is m n-M•^ i-,,^ 
 
 hi^rhiy of then th :„ TL , :"■ ''" r" """'^••^ -"- 
 
 '-i- ' know the Wrtuc anVth ""I "" '-"^"'■* 
 thci- can ..,-hicvc invth ''"' ™'°''- ' know 
 
 •^■now that ^:^::'j'^:^^^^^^^-^^'^^ ^ 
 
 possibility. You c-innr>f f ^ ^ America .^ ^,, ,>,,_ 
 -^ J ^'u cannot, i vonfjit-r» f,^ r.^ 
 
 conquer America Vo„^ "^ ''> ->""' ''"""" 
 
 cost a numerous arn.y m^ l' ■""' '^*^" ^"'''■^ '^ ? It 
 able ireiier,! rr , '"^', ""''''' "'<-■ command of a i ,st 
 
 '''-^^."-■vc.neh:::;;;^:™;;:rs^ 
 
 /«« .»„«,„ ,,„,,„,, ^, What • ' ■ 
 
 ■situation there? Wo <lo „oi i , ^ "' I"'^'"<="t 
 
 knouthatin three cam " T "'" ''"'''' '>"' ^'^ 
 
 •sufferal much e .^'Z':;;'-' '?''- "J-"-" ""thin^ and 
 
 "f the Northern f™"e the h . "^''' ^''"'i'' """^^"^ 
 -"^- the fieid^c^™ LXl~^^ 
 ■-thed from the American Ih.es //' " "v™' ^'^ 
 '•ehncui.sh his attempt, and « 1™ de" ff '" 
 '" <i'l'>I>t a newan.l distant If ^^ ""'' ''''"§" 
 
 »ha.isoo„,now,andi„a:yre twe^rr;- ^^ 
 what may have happened since As tnT ™'"'' 
 
 fore, my Lords I rene,f '*• • 'conquest, there- 
 
 -cnev^yeiLrdteVyT;;:;?';- ^™ -^ 
 
 Ijantly ; pi,e and accumulate'^eve^; a. " 'TcT "'''"™- 
 buy or borro-.v ; traffic and barter .^ittJZZr\T, 
 f^crman prirce that sells and sends h,s '7 " P""^"' 
 shambles of a foreign prince jy- 'eff'^^r^''' *^ 
 van, and impotent-doubly .so fro^i thK m^ "''" 
 
 "" -h'ch you rely; for Tt irritl"es;7„T'^ r' 
 •csentment, the minds of your enemies Z "'™'''''"= 
 
 -MHe mercenary sons o^frapirrpl:;—-- 
 
 1^ 
 
120 
 
 THE HIGH -SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I' . 
 
 them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireh'ng 
 cruelty ! If I were an American, as I am an English- 
 man, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I 
 never would lay down my arms — never — never — never. 
 
 But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to 
 these disgraces and mischiefs of our ;umy, has dared to 
 authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and 
 scalping-knife of the savage ? to call into civilized alliance 
 the wild and inhuman savage of the woods ; to delcirate 
 to the merciless Inch'an the defence of disputed rights, 
 and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 
 brethren ? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for 
 re(h-ess and punishment. Unless thoroughly done away, 
 it will be a stain on the national character. It is a vio- 
 lation of the Constitution. I believe it is against law. 
 It is not the least of our national misfortunes that the 
 strength and character of our army are thus impaired. 
 Infected with the mercenary spirit of robbery and rapine, 
 familiarized to the horrid scenes of savage cruelty, it can 
 no longer boast of the noble and generous principles 
 which dignify a soldier, no longer sympathize with the 
 dignity of the royal banner, nor feel the pride, pomp, and 
 circumstance of glorious war, " that make ambition 
 virtue ! " What makes ambition virtue ? — the sense of 
 honor. But is the sense of honor consistent with a spirit 
 of plunder, or the practice of murder ? Can it flow from 
 mercenary motives, or can it prompt to cruel deeds? 
 
 The independent views of America have been stated 
 and asserted as the foundation of this address. My 
 Lords, no man wishes for the due dependence of America 
 on this country more than I do. To preserve it, and not 
 confirm that stale of independence into which your 
 
 measures hitherto have driven th 
 
 cm, is the object which 
 
f 
 
 ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE 
 
 121 
 
 wc ought to unite in attaining, Tlie Americ;,n. .„ 
 tendin, f„. thcir nghts again' a.bitiy ^ l" 
 
 Htr,ot.. But contending for independency and total 
 'Iisconnecfon from England, as an Englishman ca^o 
 w,sh them .success ; for i„ a due conlituticna depen 
 
 ^Zui:: n"''"tf ""''^"'^ ■™p'-'^"'^^^ "f ""-^ -"" ^y 
 
 he mutual happmess and prosperity both of England 
 and America She derived assistance and protection 
 from us ; and we reaped from her the n,ost fmportZ 
 advantages. She wa.s. indeed, the fountain of ouT weaTth 
 the ner.e of our strength, the nursery and ba.si ofour' 
 n^va power. ,t is our duty, therefore, my Lor.ls, ,T wl" 
 
 I ov L7,:" ~"""'^; '""^' ■^•^■■'•-^'>' '" -^deavor the 
 recovery of these most beneficial subjects ; and in this 
 
 penlous cns,s perhaps the present momen may be tt 
 only one m wh.ch we can hope for succcs.s. For^-nlhc'r 
 ncgot,at,ons with France, they have, or think ,hey hiv 
 
 t^of vrou^rinr;:tT~i,:T''^' ^™' --- 
 
 , . . ' ■> ^"^ "^ ^-^ certain they expected if- 
 
 .n a more decs.ve and immediate degree. America is in 
 .11 humor w,th .France: on .some pSints they hTvV'no" 
 cntu-ely answered her e.vpeetations Let us wisel^r 
 advantage of every possible moment o "c^ d fa f'' 
 Bcdes, the natural disposition of America he f ™, 
 leans toward England ; to the old habits of com'eetiol 
 and mutual interest that ,mite.l both countries Ti? 
 r:: t^-sta'^Hshed .sentiment of all the co^nt:; "l!: 
 
 my Lords, in the great and 
 
 part of America, th 
 pi'cvails. And th 
 
 IS 
 
 prmcipal part, the sound 
 
 wise and affectionate di 
 
 cM-e IS a V 
 
 ^position 
 
 ■cry considerable part of 
 
 
 )n 
 
122 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 
 i, ( 
 
 America yet sound— the middle and the southern pro- 
 vinces. Some parts may be factious and blind to their 
 true interests ; but if we express a wise and benevolent 
 disposition to communicate with them those immutable 
 rijrhts of nature and those constitutional liberties to 
 which they are equally entitled with ourselves, by a 
 conduct so just and humane we shall confirm the favor- 
 able and conciliate the adverse. I say, my Lords, the 
 rights and liberties to which they are equally entitled 
 with ourselves, /;/// ,/o more. I uould participate to them 
 every enjoyment and freedom which the colonizing 
 subjects of a free state can possess, or wish to possess ; 
 and r do not see why they should not enjoy every fun- 
 damental right in their property, and every original 
 substantial liberty, which Devonshire, or Surrey, or the 
 county I live in, or any other county in h:tigland, can 
 claim ; reserving always, as the sacred rigiit of the 
 mother country, the due constitutional dependency of 
 the colonies. The inherent supremacy of the state in 
 regulating and protecting the navigation and commerce 
 of all her subjects, is necessary for the mutual benefit 
 and preservation of every part, to constitute and preserve 
 the prosperous arrangement of the whole empire. 
 
 The sound parts of America, of which I have spoken, 
 must be sensible of these great truths and of their real 
 interests. America is not in that state of desperate and 
 contemptible rebellion which this country has been 
 deluded to believe. It is not a wild and lawless banditti, 
 who, having nothing to lose, might hope to snatch some- 
 thing from public convulsions. Many of their leaders 
 and great men have a great stake in this great contest. 
 The gentleman who conducts their armies, [ -Am told, has 
 an estate of four or five thousand pounds a year ; and 
 
ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE. ,33 
 
 When I consider these things, I cannot but lament the 
 .ncons.derate violence of our penal acts, our dedar;t ™' 
 "f treason and rebellion, with all the fatal effe ^ : 
 attanider and confiscation. 
 
 sertd'nn'tit ",^'!'""'"" "' '■"'"S" powers which is as- 
 
 crted [,n the Knigs speech] to be pacific and friendly 
 
 et us judge my Lords, rather by their actions ate' 
 
 "at n-e of thn,gs than by interested as,,ertions The 
 
 un,for,n assistance st,p„lied to America by I-rTce suj 
 
 .csts a d fl-erent conclusion. The n,ost imp<,rta„t inter- 
 
 V h \ IT" '" ^'««™"'''-"K -"I -Tiching herse f 
 uth what she ,„ost wants, supplies of every naval s ore 
 fr ..n .A.nenca, nu.st inspire her with different .sentimeuT 
 1 he e.x raordmary preparations of the House of Hourbo ' 
 by land and by .sea, from Dunkirk to the Straits eq , 2 
 ready and willing to overwhelm these defeneele .s I 2 
 should rouse us to a .sense of their real disposition nd 
 our own danger Not five thousand troops fn Emand . 
 har ly three thousand u, Ireland ! What'cai: .^ ^^^.t' 
 o the combmed force of our enemies ? Scarcely t.vemy 
 sh,ps of the hue .so fully or .sufficiently manned that 
 anyadm.ra Is reputation would permit him to take he 
 command o The river of Lisbon in the possession of 
 our enem,es The .seas swept by Ameriea' priv. eers 
 Our Channel trade torn to pieces by them ! In h 
 conpheated cns.s of danger, weakness at home an 
 calam.ty abroad, terrified and insulte.l by the neighbor 
 ms powers, unable to act in America, or acting on y to 
 be destroyed, where is the n>an with the forehead to 
 prom,se or hope for success in such a situation, or from 
 perseverance m the measures that have driven us iT^ 
 Who has the forehead to do so ? Where is "that man? 
 I should be glad to see his face. 
 
124 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 i) M 
 
 lit IK .. i 
 
 You cannot conciliate America by your present mea- 
 sures. You cannot subdue her by your present or by 
 any measures. What, then, can you do? You cannot 
 conquer; you cannot gain; but you can address ; you 
 can lull the fears and anxieties of the moment into an 
 ignorance of the danger that should produce them. 
 But, my Lords, the time demands the language of truth. 
 We must not now apply the flattering unction of servile 
 compliance or blind complaisance. I n a just and neces- 
 sary war, to maintain the rights or honor of my country, 
 I would strip the shirt from my back to support it. But 
 
 in sucha war asthis, unjust in its principle, impracticable 
 in its means, and ruinous in its consequences, I would 
 not contribute a single effort nor a single shillinP". I ^o 
 not call for vengeance on the heads of those who have 
 been guilty; I only recommend to them to make their 
 retreat. Let them walk off; and let them make haste, 
 or they may be assured that speedy and condign punish- 
 ment will overtake them. 
 
 My Lords, I have submitted io you, with the freedom 
 and truth which I think ,.iy duty, my sentiments on your 
 present awful situation. I have laid before you the ruin 
 of your power, the disgrace of your reputation, the 
 pollution of your discipline, the contamination of your 
 morals, the complication of calamities, foreign and 
 domestic, that overwhelm yoursinking country. Your 
 dearest interests, your own liberties, the Constitution 
 itself totters to the foundation. All this disgraceful 
 danger, this multitude of misery, is the monstrous off- 
 spring of this unnatural war. We have been deceived 
 and deluded too long. Let us now stop short. This is 
 the crisis— the only crisis of time and situation, to give 
 us a possibility of escape from the fatal efTects of "our 
 
you 
 
 O.V AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE. ,^5 
 
 delusions But if, in an obstinate and infatuated perse 
 verance.nfolly, we slavisl,ly echo the peremptory word^ 
 .h,s day presented to us, nothing can save this dcvo ed 
 country from complete and iinal ruin. We madly rush 
 ITnd'ed"" ' ""^'^"-•-^ "-"f-ion worse c;!' 
 Is it possible, can it believed, that ministers are vet 
 
 "laLfth '':;'^"''''"f '^^'™"'°"''' ' "'" "^"P^ "ha 
 •..stead of th,s false and empty vanity, thisoverweening 
 
 pnde, engenderinghigh conceits and presumptuous im- 
 
 aginat.ons,ministerswouldhavehumbledthemselvesin 
 thetr errors, would have confessed and retracted them 
 and by an active, though a late, repentance, have en- 
 deavored to redeem them. But, my Lords, since they 
 
 had neuhersagacty toforesee, norjusticenorhumanity 
 to shun these oppressive calamities-since noteven se- 
 veree.xper.ence can make them feel, nor the imminent 
 rum of th. country awaken them from their stupefac- 
 tion the guardmn care of Parliament mustinterpose. I 
 shall, therefore, my Lords, propose toyouanamendment 
 of theaddresstohisMajesty, tobeinserted immediately 
 after the twofirist paragraphs of congratulation on the 
 
 brrmofaprmcess, to recommendan immediate cessation 
 of hostihties, and the commencement of a treaty to 
 
 restore peace and liberty to Amenca,strength and han- 
 pmess to Lng and, security and permane,n prosperity 
 to both countr.es. This, my Lords, is yet in our powe/^ 
 and let not the .vsdom and justice of your Lordships 
 
 nfZ Hr-Pr- ""''' P^'^^P^' "^^ -V opportunity 
 By the es tabhshment of irrevocable law, founded on 
 mutual rights, and ascertained by treaty, these glorious 
 enjoyments may be firmly perpetuated. And let me 
 repeat to your Lordships, that the strong bais of 
 
jl 
 
 126 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 America, at least of the wi.se and soun.ler i,arts o.' it 
 naturally inclines to this happy and constitutional recon- 
 ncct.on with you. Notwithstanding the temporary in- 
 trigues with France, we may still be assured of their 
 ancient and confirmed partiality to us. America and 
 France canuot be conge.iial. 
 
 My Lords, to encourage and confirm that innate in- 
 clination to this country, founded on every principle of 
 afreetion, as well as consideration of interest ; to restore 
 that favorable disposition into a permanent and powerful 
 reunion with this country ; to revive the mutual strength 
 of the eir.pire ; again to awe the House «,f Bourbon 
 instead of meanly truckling, as our present calamities' 
 compel us. to every insult of French caprice and Spanish 
 punctilio ; to re-establish our commerce ; to reassert our 
 rights and our honor ; to confirm our interests and 
 renew our glories forever-a consummation most de- 
 voutly to be endeavored ! and which, I trust, may yet 
 arise from reconciliation with America-I have the honor 
 of submitting to you the following amendment, which I 
 move to be inserted after the two first paragraphs of the 
 address : 
 
 " And that this House does most humbly advise and 
 supplicate his Majesty to be pleased to cause the most 
 speedy and effectual measures to be taken for restorin.. 
 peace m America ; and that no time may be lost in 
 proposing an immediate opening of a treaty for the final 
 settlement of the tranquillity of these invaluable pro- 
 vinces, by a removal of the unhappy causes of this ruin- 
 ous civil war, and by a just and adequate security 
 against the return of the like calamities in times to 
 come. And this House desire to offer the most dutiful 
 his Majesty, that they will, in due time 
 
 assurances 
 
rmi, ■■„„: nt„„ „, „-,„„„;,. ,„ 
 
 XXII. FROM"THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD." 
 
 THE FAMILY i:sK ART. WriKH IS OPPUSKI) 
 
 (iKJCATKK. 
 
 WITH STILL 
 
 Ol.IVKK OOI.DSMITH. 
 
 -1728 T774, 
 
 rcsr<"T.7' r''*' '"" '^"" ^'^"P'"^''^ -"-'-ns, the 
 .t,c. CO bv thf "'■' '^='-'3; consoled for M,-. Burchells 
 al>.sc„cc by the company of our landlord, whose visits 
 ■now became more frequent and Ion,.-,-. Tholh he 
 ha<l been ,l,sappointed in procuring ,ny dauf,ht^ the 
 amusements of the town, as he dcstme<l he ttok everv 
 
 opportunttyofsupplyingthem withthoscl ttlerecreat'ns 
 wlHch our refrement would admit of. He usua ; c^^^ 
 
 m the mornn^, an,l while my son and I followed our 
 
 occupa ,on» abroa.I. he sat with the family at home and 
 
 amuse,! them by describing the town, with every partof 
 
 h ch he was partteularly acquainted. He cot.ld repeat 
 
 a 1 ^. observafons that were retailed in the atmoX' 
 
 of he play-houses, and had all the good things of the 
 
 igh w,ts by rote long before they made their tayimo 
 
 the jest-book.,. The intervals between conversat.on w e 
 
 employed u, teaching my daughters piquet, or sometL 
 
 m setttng my two little ones to bo., to'make them Xj 
 
 )tk 
 
138 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ill 
 
 as he called it ; but the hopes of havin^r him for a son-in- 
 la-.v, in some measure blimled us to all his imperfections. 
 It must be owned that my wife laid a thousand schemes 
 to entrap him ; or, to speak it more tenderly, used every 
 art to ma^mify the merit of her dau^rhter. If (! c cakes 
 at tea ate short and crisp, they were made by Olivia: if 
 the gooseberr>' wine was well knit, the ^moseberries were 
 of her -alherino : it was her fin-ers that ^^vn the pickles 
 then- peculiar ^rrccn ; and in the composition of a puddinjr, 
 It was her jud<rment that mixed the in^rrcdients. Then 
 the poor woman would sometimes tell the 'squire, that 
 she ^hou-ht him and Olivia extremely of a size! and 
 would bid both stand up to see which was tallest. These 
 instances of cunning, which she thought impenetrable, 
 yet which everybody saw through, were very pleasing to 
 our benefactor, who gave every day some new proofs of 
 his passion, which, though they had not risen to proposals 
 of marriage, yet we thought fell but little short of it ; and 
 his slowness was attributed sometimes to native bashful- 
 ness, and sometimes to his fear of offending his uncle 
 An recurrence, however, which happened soon after, put 
 It beyond a doubt that he designed to become one of 
 our family ; mv' wife even regarded it as an absolute 
 promise. 
 
 My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to 
 neighbor Flamborough's, found that family had lately 
 got their pictures drawn by a limner, who travelled the 
 country, and took likenes.ses for fifteen shillings a head. 
 As this family and ours had long a sort of "rivalry in 
 point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at thi:. stolen 
 march upon us, and notwithstanding all I could say, 
 and I said much, it was resolved that we should have 
 our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged the 
 
FROM^^-niE VICAR OF VVAKEh 
 
 ieim:' 
 
 129 
 
 hmncr. for what could [ ,Io ? our next deliberation was 
 to shew the superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As 
 for our neighf3or's family, there were seven of them, and 
 they vvcre drau n with seven oran.^es. a thin,, quite out 
 >f taste, no vanety in life, no compositio.i in the world 
 U e des.red to have somethin^r in a brighter style, and 
 after many debates, at length came to an unanimous 
 resolution of being drawn together in one large historical 
 ^m.ly p.cce. This would be cheaper, since one frame 
 would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more 
 genteel ; for all families of any taste were now <lrawn in 
 the same manner. As vvc did not immediately recollect 
 an historical subject to hit us. we were contented each 
 with being drawn as independent historical figures My 
 wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter 
 was desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her 
 •stomacher and hair. Her two little ones were to be as 
 Cupids by her side, while I, with my gown and band 
 was to present her with m)- books on the Whistonian 
 controversy. Olivia wouM be .lra^vn as an Amazon, 
 s.t ing upon a bank of flowers, dressed fn a green Joseph 
 nchly laced with gold, and a whip in her hand. .Sophia 
 was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the 
 painter could put in for nothing ; and Moses uas to be 
 dresse.1 out with an hat and white feather. Our taste .so 
 much plca.sed the '.squire, that he insisted on being put 
 m as one of the family, in the character of Alexander 
 the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us 
 all as an indication of his desire to be introduced into 
 the family, nor could we refuse his request. The painter 
 was therefore set to work, and as he wrou^crht ^v,>h 
 a.s^siduity and expedition, .in less than four days the 
 whole was completed. The piece was large, and it must 
 
 
 II 51 
 
 , ,; t-J 
 
 n 
 
!.{'■ 
 
 I 
 
 130 
 
 J—- 
 
 /y/A' men scnoor. reader. 
 
 be owned he did not spare his colors; for which my wife 
 ^mve him f^M'cat cncoiniuins. \Vc were all perfectly 
 satislicd with his performance ; but an unfortunate cir- 
 cumstance had not occurred till the picture was finished, 
 which now struck us with dismay. It was so very lar^rc 
 that we had no place in the house to fix it. How we 
 all came to disre^^ird so material a point is inconceiv.ible; 
 but certain it is, we had been all idcatly remiss. The 
 picture, therefore, instead of i^ratifyin^^ our vanity, as we 
 iioped, leaned, in a most mortiiying manner, against the 
 kitchen ^all, where the canvas was stretched and 
 painted, much too large to be got through .my of the 
 doors, a id the jest of all our neighbors. One compared 
 it to Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed ; 
 another thought it iiiore resembled a reel in a bottle ; 
 some wondered how it could be got out, but still more 
 were amazed how it ever got in. 
 
 But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually 
 raised more malicious suggestions in many. The 'squire's 
 portrait being found united with ours, was an honor too 
 great to escape envy. Scandalous whispers began to 
 circulate at our expense, and our tranquillity was con- 
 tinually disturbed by })crsons who came as friends to 
 tell us what was said of us by enemies. These reports 
 we always resented with becoming spirit ; but scandal 
 ever improves by opposition. 
 
 We once again therefore entered into a consultation 
 upon obviating the malice of our enemies, and at last 
 came to a resolution which had too much cunning to 
 give me entire satisfaction. It was this : as our principal 
 object was to discover the honor of Mr. Thornhill's 
 addresses, my wife undertook to sound him by pretend- 
 ing lu ask his advice m the choice of an husband ur her 
 
 I 
 
FROM ^^THE VICAR OF WAKHFIELDr ,3, 
 
 eklcst dauK^htcr. If this was not found sufficient to 
 jnducc him to a declaration, it was then rcs(,Ived to 
 terrify him with a rival. To this last step, however I 
 would by no means ^nve my consent, till Olivia ^rave me 
 llic most solemn assurances that she would marry the 
 I'crson provi.led to rival him upon this occasion.'if he 
 did not prevent it. I>y takin^^ her himself Such was the 
 seheme laid, which, though [ ch,l not strenuously oppose 
 1 did not entirely ai)pi\..v'e. ' 
 
 The next time, therefore, that Mr. Thornhiil came to 
 see us, my girls took care to be out of the way, in order 
 to give their mamma an opportunity of puttin^r her 
 •scheme in execution ; but they only retired to tJie next 
 n.om, whence they could overhear the uhole conversa- 
 tion: my wife artfully introduced it, b>- observing, that one 
 of the Miss Flamboroughs ^^'as like to have a very good 
 match of it in Mr. Spanker. To tliis the scpiire assentin<^ 
 slie proceeded to remark, that they who had warm 
 fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands : 
 But heaven help," continued she, " the girls that have 
 none. What signifies beauty, Mr. Thornhiil? or what 
 signifies all the virtue, and all the qualifications in the 
 world, in this age of self-interest ? It is not, what is she? 
 but, what has she? is all the cry." 
 
 '- Madam," returned lie, " I high 'y approve the justice 
 as well a.s the novelty, of your remarks, and if I uere a 
 king, It should be otherwi' e. It should then, indeed be 
 fine times for the girls without fi.rtunes : our two young 
 ladies should be the first for whom I would provide." 
 
 "Ah, sir," returned my wife, ")-()u are pleased to be 
 facetious : but I nish I were a queen, and then I know 
 where my eldest daughtei- should 
 But 
 
 n 
 
 ow that you have put it into 
 
 )ok for an husband 
 11 ly head, seriously. 
 
 t- " If; 
 
 i ill 
 
 • 11 
 
 1!" 
 
 ONIARin CdLLFP'^ 01- tDUCATlO' 
 
132 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Id ( 
 
 fo, 1,!^° c, ■ ''" ' ^'^ '■^^^"'"™^"<' me a proper husband 
 •"■her She ,s now nineteen yeiu-s ol.l, „-cli (jrown and 
 
 T^:T^' '■'""■ '■" "^^' ''"'"^"-' ""■■"'■""■ •i"- "- -m 
 
 "Ma,la,n;- replied he, "if [ were to choose, I would 
 find out a person possessed of every aecomplishment 
 l>at ean mal<e an angel happy. One with prudence 
 fortune, taste, and sincerity ; such, madam, would be in 
 my opn„on,the proper husband." " Ay, .,ir," said .she, 
 tJut df) >'ou know of any such person ?"_'■ No Madim " 
 rct.u-ned he, " it is impossible to know any pers .„ ^'t 
 eserves to be her husband : she's too great'a treasure 
 f one mans po.s.,es,sion : she's a godde,s.s. Upon my 
 ;;."■ ,T ■ "'''-" I fh"'k. -^c's an angel."-" Ah Mr 
 hornhdl you only flatter my poor girl: but we 'have 
 Kcn thmkmg of marrying her to one of vour tenants 
 « ho.se n,othcr rs lately dead, and who wants a manag. ' ■ ' 
 you kno.. whon, r mean, farmer Williams ; a warm n.an," 
 Ml. 1 hornhdl, able to give her good bread ; ..n.l who has 
 several hmes made her propo.sals : " (which „,,. actually 
 ho ease) " but, sir," concluded she, " I should be gla.l to 
 hav-e your a|,probation of our choice"-^" How, Madam " 
 rop bed he, "my approbation ! My approbation of such 
 a choice! Never. What! Sacrifice .so much b.auu 
 i>"d sense, and goodness, to a creature insensible of the' 
 blessmg! Lx-cuse me, I can ne^■er approve of such a 
 piece of injustice ! And I have my reasons !"-" Indeed, 
 sir, cned Deborah, " If you have your reasons that's 
 
 rr„v"^'?^ '" ' -^^""'^ ^= ^^' - ^"- th- 
 reasons. - K.vcuse me, ma<lam," returned h,.-, " the,- lie 
 
 too deep for discovery;" (laying his hand upon his 
 bosom) they remain buried, rivetted 'lere " 
 After he was gone, upon general consultation, we 
 
i 
 
 MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES. ,33 
 could not toll what to make of these fine sentiments 
 
 pass,on , but I was not qtn'tc »„ san.nnne ; yet, ul.atcvcr 
 they m,ght portend, it was resolved to prcsceute the 
 scheme of farmer Williams, v.l.o, fr.,m my daugl t ' 
 
 addresses"""" '" ""' '^'™'"^^' '>"" ^^^ '-'■ '- 
 
 XXm. MEETING OF .JOHNSON WITH WILKES, 
 
 (1776)- 
 
 JA.MES BoswEI,I.._i74o.i795. 
 From Life ok s,iiiuel Jum.vson, u..i>. 
 I A.M now to record a very eurious incident in Dr 
 Johnsons l,fe, which fell under my own observation • of 
 
 " !'h VTu '"T" ^"'- '•'"^' "■'^'■^'^ ' «"> P'-''-»"a^lcd will 
 w,th the hberal-minded, be much to his credit 
 
 My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of 
 
 every de,scr,ption had made me, much about the same 
 
 tune, obtam an nnroduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and 
 
 to John Wdkes, Ksq. Two men more different cotdd 
 
 not perhaps be .selected out of all mankind. They h d 
 
 even attacked one another with .some asperitv in the'r 
 
 TTu \ T 'r'T'' '" '^"'"'^ °f f''^"J*iP ^vith both 
 I could fully rehsh the excellence of each ; for I have 
 
 ever dehjjhte,! ,n that intellectual chemistry, which can 
 
 separate good qualities from evil in the same person 
 
 Sir John PrinirJc 
 
 inine 
 
 friend 
 
 to establish an acquaintance, as I re 
 
 e own friend and my fath 
 
 cr s 
 
 Dr. Johnson I 
 
 :spectcd and Jived in 
 
 m vain \vish(^<l 
 
 '1 
 
134 
 
 THE ///(;h school reader. 
 
 .4 
 
 N I 
 
 i 
 
 
 lirf: 
 
 : f 
 
 W 
 
 intimacy with both of them, observed to ,nc once, very 
 ingeniously, " It is not in friendship as in mathematics 
 where two things, each equal to a third, are equal be- 
 tween themselves. You agree with Johnson as a middle 
 quality, and you agree with me as a middle quality ■ but 
 Johnson and I should not agree." Sir John wa.s not 
 sufficiently flexible ; so I desisted ; knowing, indeed, 
 that the repulsion \\'as equally strong on the part of 
 Johnson ; who, I know not from what^ause, unless his 
 bemg a Scotchman, had formed a xcry erroneou:: opinion 
 of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish,' if 
 possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. 
 How to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter.* 
 
 My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs li)illy i„ 
 the Poultry, at whose hospitable and well-covered table 
 I have seen a greater number of literary men than at 
 any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had in- 
 vited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen 
 on Wednesday, May 15th. " Pray," .said I. " let us have 
 Dr. Johnson." "What, with Mr. Wilkes? not for the 
 
 Jolinson s ch.like of Mr. Wilkes was so great that it e.xtended even to his 
 connecfons. He happened to dine one day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's with a 
 large and distinguished company, amongst whom were Mr. w'ilkes's brother 
 iM-ael, and his lady. In the course of conversation, Mr. Israel \\'ilkes wis 
 about to make ■ ,me remnrk. wlien Johnson suddenly stopped him with •' I 
 hope sir. what you are going to say m .y be lx>tter worth hearing tlmn whu 
 you have aliv.tdy sai.l.'' This rudeness shocked and spread a gloon. over the 
 whole party, particularly as Mr. Israel Wilkes was a gentleman of a verv 
 amiable character and of refined taste, and. what Dr. Johnson little suspecte.l 
 a very loyal subject. Johnson afterwards owned to me that he was very sorrJ 
 that he had - snMed Wilkes, as his wife w.as present." I replied, diat he 
 should be sorry for many reasons. •• No," said Johnson, who was very rfcluc 
 tant to apologize for offences of this nature ; •■ no. I only regret it because his 
 
 r ' Til- K ; "" ''"' '" '"' "° ^''"^ "' '"'^''■^- ^- '"- "--ivihty to .Mr 
 'srael Wilkes but disgust at liis brother's political ,)rineip!e s. 
 
 Miss Rey.nulus's Recollfxtions. 
 
MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES. 135 
 
 world," said Mr. Edward Dilly : "Dr. Johnson would 
 never forgive me." "Come," said I, " if you'll let me 
 negotiate for you, I will be answerable that all shall go 
 well." Dilly. " Nay, if you will take it upon you, I am 
 sure I shall be very happy to see them both here." 
 
 Notwithstanding the high veneration which I enter- 
 tained for Dr. Johnson, I was sensible that he was some- 
 times a little actuated by the spirit of contradiction, and 
 by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I 
 was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct 
 propo.sal, "Sir, will you dine in company with Jack 
 Wilkes ? " he would have flown into a passion, and would 
 probably have answered, " Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir ! 
 I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch." I, therefore, while 
 we were sitting quietly by ourselves at his house in an 
 evening, took occasion to open my plan thus : " Mr. 
 Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and 
 would be happy if you would do him the honor to dine 
 with him on Wednesday next along with me, as I must 
 soon go to Scotland." Johnson. " Sir, I am obliged to 
 Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him." Bosivell. " Provided, 
 Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have i.s 
 agreeable to you ? " Jolinson. " W^hat do you mean, 
 Sir? What do you take me for? Do you think I am' 
 so ignorant of the world as to imagine' that I am to 
 prescribe to a gentleman what comi)an\- he is to ha\c at 
 his table ? " Boszi'cll. " I beg your 'pardon, Sir, for 
 wishing to prevent you from meeting people ^hom you 
 might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what he 
 calls his patriotic friends with him." Johnson. " Well, 
 Sir, and what then ? What care J for his patriotic 
 friends? Poh ! " Bosivell. " T should not be surprised 
 to find Jack Wilkes there." Johnson. " And if Jack 
 
136 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 d^Ia ' friet't ''^ ,"'"' "'■"' '-^ '''='' *" '-' Sir? My 
 
 uear irienrl, ]et us have »io more of thw t ^ 
 
 u . . i">^-'n- (ji rnis. I am sorrv fc\ 
 
 be ang^ w,th you ; but really it is treating me strange y 
 to talk to me as if I could not mee, any cLpany .hat"^ 
 ever, occasionally." Bos-^dl. " Pray forgive mf Sir 
 meant we 1. Bu. you shall meet l^J^Z.^'.^ 
 me^ Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he would 
 
 d;^tor:tTr" ''-'-' " "- °-- "^ -- ^ 
 
 abo^ufhalf T* "l^"''^ Wednesday. I called on him 
 about half an hour before dinner, as I often did when we 
 were to dme out together, to see that he was read v It 
 t.n,e. and to accompany him. I found him be ff ifh" 
 books, as upon a fonner occasion, covered with du t and 
 
 a Mr Dil vs . °""//°" '■''°"'"' "^^' ^""' ^"^ '° ^ine 
 
 Boine to Dllv ■/ • "■'"• ' *■'' "°' *ink of 
 
 gomg to Ddlys; ,t went out of my head. I have or- 
 dered dmner at home with Mrs. Williams." BosZl 
 
 JJilly, and 1 told hun so. He will expect you and will 
 
 be much disappointed if you don't^oml"' "ll'' 
 
 You must talk to Mrs Williams about this " 
 
 Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that' what I was 
 
 so confident I had .secured would yet be frustrated He 
 
 had accustomed himself to show Mrs. Williams such a 
 
 S:if utrr ""-r' ^^ "-^^-^""^ imp::;^! 
 
 restramt upon hun ; and I knew that if she should he 
 the bund lady s room, and told her I was in great u„- 
 
 day at Mr. Ddly s, but that he had told me h. !,,,, fo. 
 gotten his engagement, and had ordered dinne'r'at'homc 
 
 SW«II8W<-: 
 
MEETrXG OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES. ,37 
 
 " Ves, Sir," said she. pretty peevishly, " Dr. Johnson is to 
 <line at home " " Mn.J-m " • 1 i , • J""nson is to 
 
 such thnf I I T ' ^'^ ^' " ^''■'^ '"^^^P^^t for you is 
 
 •^LiLii, rnat l know he will .-1^4- 1 / '■^ 
 
 absolutely desire t BuV ! ?""' ^""' ""'"-"^ y°" 
 
 ' ucsiie jt. Hut as you have so much of hk 
 
 «-"-"i , 1 carriea tne messao-o ut^A t „ 1 i.^.^ 
 
 Di„y that D... Johnson was to ct.:ti rXltte 
 
 softeneC to ,ny sohcUationsrhictTe. ^^^r^^ 
 nest as most entreaties to ladies upon any occ-ln and 
 
 rlinjl ■!' "r ^°H"^f ^"'' ^"^ *-^">' he shouW 
 
 carelZo/:;hat should be1h'° ™' ^"■" '" ""''' -'^ 
 choice to go or stav •• h,!t '™"'' " '"'"'^'^'■^"' '" ^'^ 
 to him m1 W ,^ '. ^' '°°" ^' ' ''^d announced 
 to him Mrs. Williams's consent, he roared " Frank- . 
 
 c can shirt," and was very soon dressed, vi'hen I had 
 him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me I exuhed 
 as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an he re^ in o 
 a post-cha.se with him to set out for G^retna Gr n '° 
 
 i.ilrn::irmM't'V- """''' '^^^-'•-^ --■ •^^ f^-^ 
 
 keot mv eif '""^^' °V' ™'"P'^"y h-^ did not know. I 
 
 "Who i. fl. f ^'^^ei-vcd him whispering to Mr. Dilly 
 VVno IS that p-enflptnQ,i c;„->'> .. ,. . - ^"v> 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 at gentleman. Sir?"— "Mr A-fi--, t ' 
 ['^^ ^ ^_ „ , . . ' ■'T.ituur Lee, 
 
 breath), which 
 
 Too, too, too " (under h 
 
 one of his habitual niutterin 
 
 was 
 
 gs. Mr. Arthur Lee could 
 
I3« 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 iii J 
 
 not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not 
 only a pat riot, but an American. He was afterwards 
 minister from the United States at the court of Madrid. 
 "And who is the gentleman in lace ? "— " Mr. Wilkes, 
 Sir." This information confounded him st'" ;-orc ; he 
 had some difficulty to restrain himself, and. ' ■ ^ up a 
 book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, ^r ai least 
 kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he com- 
 posed himself His feelin-s, I dare say, were awkward 
 enough. Rut he had no doubt recollected his having 
 rated me for supposing that he could be at all discon- 
 certed by any company, and he, therefore, resolutely set 
 himself to behave quite as an easy man of the worid, 
 who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and 
 manners of those whom he might chance to meet. 
 
 The cheering sound of ' Dinner is upon the table," 
 dissolved his reverie, and we all sat down without any 
 symptoms of ill humor. . . Mr. Wilkes nlaced himself 
 next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much 
 attention and politeness, that he gained upon him in- 
 sensibly. No man ate more heartily than John.son, or 
 loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes 
 was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal 
 " Pray give me leave. Sir— It is better here— A little of 
 the brown— Some fat, Sir-.\ little of the stuffing- 
 Some grav>'— Let me haxe the pleasure of ^yxVm.. you 
 •some butter— Allow me to recommend a squeeze o^f this 
 orange ; or the lemon, perhaps may have more zest."— 
 " Sir ; .sir, I am obliged to you, Sir," cried John.son 
 bowmg. and turning his head to him with a look for 
 some time of " surly virtue," but, in a short while of 
 complacency. 
 
 Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, « He is not a 
 
of 
 
 MEETING OE JOHNSON IV/TH IVILKES. ,39 
 
 good mimic." One of the company added, " A mcrrv- 
 andrew. a buffoon." Johnson. " But he ha.s wit too and 
 IS not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety 
 o. imagery, and not empty of reading; he ha.s know- 
 ledge enough to fill up hi.s part. One species of wit he 
 nas m an eminent degree, that of escape. You drive him 
 into a corner with both hands ; but he is gone, Sir, when 
 you thmk >-ou have got him-likc an animal that jumps 
 oxer your head. Then he has a great range for wit"- 
 he never lets truth stand between him and the jest and 
 he IS sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is under many 
 rcstramts from which Footc is free." Wilkes " Garrick's 
 w.t IS more like Lord Chesterfield's." Johnson. "The 
 first tunc I was in compan)^ with Foote was at 
 iMtzherberts. Having no good opinion of the fellow I 
 was resolved not 'to be pleased : and it is very difficult 
 to Please a man against his will. 1 went on eating my 
 dinner pretty .sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But 
 the dog was so very comical, that I was obliged to lay 
 down my knife and fork, throw myself back in my chair 
 and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible He' 
 upon one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary 
 degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining 
 Amongst the many and various modes which he tried of 
 getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer 
 breuer. and he was to have a share of the profits for 
 procuring customers amongst his numerous acquaint- 
 ance. iMtzherbert was one who took his small-beer but 
 It was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink it 
 They were at some loss how to notify their resolution' 
 being afraid of offending their master, who, they knew' 
 hked Loote much as a companion. At last they fixed 
 upon a little black boy, who was rather a favorite, to be 
 
 
t4o 
 
 
 T//£: HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 thc.r deputy, and deliver their remonstrance ; and. havin-^ 
 invested him with the sole authority of the kitchen. hT 
 was to mform Mr. Fitzherbert. in all their names, upon a 
 certam day, that they would dri.ik l^n.tes small-beer no 
 on^rer. On that day Footc liappened to dine at Fit/- 
 l|crberl s and this boy served at table ; he was so 
 dch^dued with Foote's stories, and merriment, and 
 .^nniace, that when lie went d<,wn stairs, he told them. 
 1 his IS the finest man I liave ever seen. I will not de- 
 liver your messa^Tc. J u-ill drink his small-beer.' " 
 
 . . Mr. Wilkes remarked, that "among all the bold 
 nii;iits c.f Shakespeare's imagination, the boldest Mas 
 maKing Jiirnam-wood march to Dunsinane ; creatin-- a 
 wood where there never ^^•as a shrub ; a wood in Sa>t- 
 l^wicl I ha I ha ! lia ! " And he also observed, that " tlie 
 clannish slavery of the Highlands of -Scotland was the 
 smgle exception to Milton's remark cf 'the mountain 
 nymph, sweet Liberty,' being worshipped in all hilly 
 countries." '^ When I was at Inverary," said he, ''on a 
 visit to my old friend Archibald, Duke of Argyle his 
 dependents congratulated me on being such a fa^•ori;e of' 
 h.s Gracc^ I said, ^ It is, then, gentlemen, truly lucky 
 <^^'- nK\; ^«^ if i had displeased the Duke, and he had 
 wished It, there is not a Campbell among you but ^^•ouId 
 have been ready to bring John Wilkes's head to him in 
 a charger. It would have been only 
 
 ' 0{{ with his head ! so much for Ayksbury: 
 I Mas then member for A)'lcsbury." 
 
 • . Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had 
 taken possession of a barren part of America, and 
 u;ondered wh)- they should choose it. Johnson. " Why 
 bir, all barrenness is comparative. The Scotch wou'd not 
 
MEF.TTNG OF /O/mSON WlTIf WILKES. ,4, 
 know H , be barren." Bos^.rll. " rome, co.ne, he is 
 flaucr^. the .„,.hs You have now boon in Sco.lan.l, 
 
 M ere ■ T, ''"" u', ""' '^^ ^'^' ^'"'1 ''"-"k enough 
 , , {''""""\ ^^'^y' y^^' Sir; meat ancl ,lrink- 
 cn„u«h to g^-e the inhabitants sufficient strength to run 
 away from home." All these c,u,cic an,l livdy sal " 
 wore saal sportively, quite in jest, an,l with a .smile 
 winoh showed that he meant only wit. Upon this o fc 
 e an. Mr. WilWos couK, porfectfy assimilate eel 
 
 satit 1 f r'\" ""■'"' ^'■-"«'""'-'-. both were fully 
 sat,sfie,l of the strange narrow ignorance of ,ho.se who 
 nagme that, t ,s a land of famine, liut they amused 
 .hcm.se ves w,th persevering i„ the old jokes. When 
 
 reject l^T'"^'"^ '"' ^-'""-' over Englanu in one 
 ■cspcet that no man can be arrested there for a ,lobt 
 
 Tust fir!:^ r":H '■"• °f "■■ "™"-^ " ^^■•"■"■^' '-- ■ ^ut there 
 .nust first be the ju.Igment of a court of law asccrtaininn- 
 
 "s justice; and that a seizure of the person. If, "e 
 
 J Kigment ,s obtained, can fake place onl>'if his cre'dW 
 
 Mould swear that he is about to fly from the country o 
 
 as ,,. tecl n,cally e.vpn-ssed, is /„ ,„c,U,atume f,J^ -1 
 
 , ,t% /'■"• ' •*""■>' "■"■■^■■■-y be .safely sw;n; of 
 a^ the Scotch nation." Joknson (to M. VVilke;). " xl 
 must know, Nr, 1 x,,,^^y ,,^^ ^ ^ ^ ™ 
 
 sowe^h., genuine eivili.ed life in an Kn^.lish p^Tn 
 cial town. [ turned h,m loose at Lichfield, my native 
 
 ■y, that he might .see for onee real civility ; foyo" 
 know ho hves an.ong .savages in Scotland an 1 amon" 
 rakes,:, London." mikes. "Except when he is w h 
 grave, sober, feent people, like you and me." JokuZ 
 (smilmg). •' And we ashamed of him." 
 
 • . This record, though by no means so perfect as I 
 
143 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL REA!)ER. 
 
 I; •' 
 
 could wish, will serve to give a notion of a very curious 
 niterv.ou-. which was not only pleasin- at the time, hut 
 had the agreeable and hcni-nant effect of reconciling 
 any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which, in the 
 various hustle of political contest, had been produced in 
 the minds of two men. who. though widely different, had 
 so many things in common classical learm'ng. mo'd.-m 
 literature, wit and humor, and read)- repartee-that it 
 would have been nuich to be regretted if the>- had been 
 forever at a distance from each other. 
 
 Mr. Burke ga\e me mucli credit for this successful 
 tuxotiation ; and pleasantly said, "that there was nothing 
 c'ciual to it in the whole histor)- of the r.;/-/.v .//>/,,///,,//,///,• - 
 
 I attended Dr. John.son home, and had the .satisfaction 
 to hear him tell Mrs. Williams how nuich h- ha<l been 
 plea.sed with Mr. Wilkes's company, and what an agree- 
 able day he had passed. 
 
 XXIV. THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE IN THE FIRST 
 
 CENTURY. 
 
 EdUAKI) (ilUliON. —1737-1704. 
 
 I'rom TnK Dkci.i.m.; .\.m, I'ai.,". or tiik Ko.ma.v Ivmitri;. 
 
 In the .second century of the Cliristian era, the emj^irc 
 of Rome comprehended' the fairest part of the earth, and 
 the most civilized portion of mankind. The frontiers of 
 that extci^sive monarchy were guarded by ancient re- 
 nown and disciplined valor. The gentle but powerful 
 influence of laws and manners had gradualK- cemented 
 the union of the provinces. Their peaccful'inhabitants 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
 V 
 
 s 
 n 
 
 P 
 o 
 
 si 
 
 d 
 
THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE, ,43 
 
 enjoyed and abused the advant-rcs of wealth and luxury, 
 he wnagc of a free constitution uas preserved with 
 decent reverence : the Roma.i senate appeared to possess 
 the sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors 
 all the executive powers of government. Durmg a 
 Juippy period of more than fourscore years, the public 
 admunstratior. v.as conducted by the virtue and abilities 
 nt Nerva. Trajan, Hadrian, and the two Antonines 
 
 I he principal conquests of the Romans were achieved 
 under the republic ; and the emperors, for the most part 
 were satisfied with preserving those dominions which 
 had been acc,uired by the policy of the senate, the 
 active emulation of the consuls, and the martial en- 
 hus.asm of the people. Theseven first centuries were 
 hllcd with a rapid succession of triumphs ; but it was 
 .reserved for Augustus to relinquish the ambitious design 
 of subdumg the whole earth, and to introduce a spirit 
 of moderation into the public councils. Inclined to 
 peace by his temper and situation, it was ea.sy for him 
 to discover that Rome, in her present exalted situation, 
 had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of 
 arms ; and that, in the prosecution of remote wars the 
 unuertakmg became every day more difficult, the event 
 more doubtful, and the possession more precarious and 
 less beneficial. The experience of Augustus added 
 weight to these salutary reflections, and effectually con- 
 vinced him that, by the prudent vigor of his counsels, it 
 would be easy to secure every concession which the 
 safety or the dignity of Rome might require from the 
 most formidable barbarians. Instead of exposing his 
 person and his legions to the arrows of the Parthi.ns he 
 obtained, by an honorable treaty, the restitution of the 
 standards and prisoners which had been tab^n in the 
 defeat of Crassus. 
 
 
'44 
 
 rill: HIGH sciiooi. kkadf.k 
 
 S4|, 
 
 the rclucMon of yI,th,o,,ia an.l Arabia l.clix Thcv 
 marchc near a thousand miles ,„ ,he s„.„h „f the 
 n>p,c ; but ,1,0 heat of the eh„,atc soon re,x.lle<i the n 
 adcrs an. proteCecl the u.nvarhke nat ves of ,ho c 
 cquesterc,! regions. The northern countries of Ku oT 
 scarcely .Jcserved the expense a,,,l labor of connuest 
 1 he forests an.l morasses of Germany were fille,l"w , 
 hardy race of barbarians, who despised life wh 'V 
 
 separate.1 fron. free,lom ; and though, on the firs a tact 
 
 they .soon, b,- a s,g„al act of despair, rcLrainc< their 
 ■ndependenee, and ren.inded August'us of the v c si ud 
 
 was pubhcly read in the senate. Ho beoiioafh,.! 
 vauable legac .o his succe.s.sor.s, the adWcT ' fi, • .g 
 c emp,re w.thn, those limits which nature .secme to 
 have placed as ns p..rn,anont bulwarks and bounda e 
 
 z t ::;::,:'^.h'";'""^ "'^'--' ■ "- '^'^'■- -'"ft.:;;; 
 
 th-souH tt' "^V'-';'*"*"' "" ^'^^'^-'i and towar.ls 
 Ihc south the .sandy deserts of Arabia an.l Africa 
 
 Happily for the repo.se of mankin.l, the m.Klcrate svs 
 
 tern recommendecr by the wisdon, of An. s u w- ,■ 
 
 adopted by the fears and ^.ices of his hnm,,.? e e e 
 
 sors. Kngaged n, the pursuit .,f pleasure, or i, tt- 
 
 cxercse .>f t>-ranny. the first C-esars .sel.Iom shone. Ihem 
 
 -Kcs to the armies or to the provinces ; nor were th^v 
 
 disposed to suffer that tho.se triumphs which X> i^do 
 
 N alor of thcir lieutenants. The military fame of a sub 
 ject was considered as an in.solent invasion of the Lie hi 
 prerogative ; and it became the du'y as well . 1 
 of every Roman. genera, to guard tLI^lt^CS 
 
THE POUCY or THK J-MPWJ., ^^^ 
 
 quishcl barbarians ^'''"' ^*' ^''"" ^'"^- 
 
 , ^■"'' ■'^eenicd to invite tiicir arm<i • th, i 
 though doubtful, intclli.rence „f^ T , ^ , '''''''""^'' 
 their avarice ■ ami as Rri?. P^"'''-"''''^'/ attractd 
 
 a distinct a,;,. ;; L ,cc ' :r;rt;r™' '" "" '■«'' "^ 
 
 fornicl any excentinn !k ' <^""n"cst scarcely 
 
 ncntal -nelsurr' A tefa .af "of"' J"7 "' ^""'^^ 
 «..erta.en b. the .ost st;™;!.'!™ ^le^- 
 
 Without t STf r:vr,torur: ^'^«'™" 
 
 savage fierceness ; they ,a,d them do v^ or turned th' 
 aganist each other with «;,i,l ■ ""• '"^ turned them 
 they fought si,,!; th. '"^^"'^tancy ; and while 
 
 Ne,Uer U,e for ht^d; of Ta"? ^™-ly -sub-lue,!. 
 uic rcrtitude of Caractacus. nor the desn-iir r^f 
 
 Sr:; ,t/''"»"^'- °f «'eDruids;c:uMT.e;' 
 
 e .iavery of he,r country, or resist thcsteady pro-ress 
 of the nr.pena! generals, who maintained thi If , 
 ..ory^ when the throne was disgraced^l' e ^ 
 the most VICIOUS of mankind At ^uJ ^^ikcsc or 
 
 D— n, c ,«„ed to his^Sace^Llt Ve^r: J^i:: 
 h.- ,n.p,rcd, h,s legions, under the command of th^ 
 tuous Agricola, defeated the collected W of the Cal 
 
 iteS 
 
 III 
 
 'ill ' 
 
 I i j 
 
-.,'-,./ir^ 
 
 146 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 donians at the foot of fho Grampian hills ; and his fleets, 
 V during to explore an unknown and dangerous naviga- 
 tion, displayed the Roman arms round every part of the 
 IS d. The conquest of Britain was considered as al- 
 ready achieved ; and it was the design of Agricola to 
 comt^- te and insure his success by the easy reduction of 
 li'eland, for which, in his opinion, one legion and a ii^vj 
 auxiliaries were sufficient. The western isle might be 
 improved into a valuable possession, and the Britons 
 would wear their chains with the less reluctance, if the 
 prospect and example of freedom was on every side re- 
 moved from before their eyes. 
 
 But the superior merit of Agricola.soon occasioned his 
 removal from the government of Britain ; and forever 
 disapp mted this rational, though extensive, scheme of 
 conquest. Before his departure the prudent general had 
 provided for security as w I as tor dominion. He had 
 observed that the island is almost divided into two unequal 
 parts by the opposite gulfs, or, as they arp now called, the 
 Friths of Scotland. Across the narrow interval of about 
 forty miles he had drawn a line of military stations 
 ^^•hlch was afterwards fortified, in the reign of Antoninus 
 Pius, by a turf rampart, erected on foundations of stone. 
 This wall of Antoninus, at a small distance beyond the 
 modern cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, was fixed as 
 tne limit of the Roman province. The native Cale- 
 donians preserved, in the northern extremity of the 
 island, their wild independence, for which they were not 
 less indebted to their poverty than to their valor. Their 
 mcursions were frequently repelled and chastised, but 
 their country was never subdued. The masters of the 
 fairest and most wealthy climates ot the "-jobe turned 
 with contempt from gloomy hills assailed by the winter 
 
ON THE A TTACKS UPON WS PENSION ,47 
 
 tcnpcsl f„,„, lakes concealed in a blue mist, and from 
 cold and lonely heaths, over which the ,Ieer o the fb"" 
 wcTc chase,! by a troop of nake,l barbarians 
 
 Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such 
 he ma,,ms of nnporial policy, from thedeatit of Aug's 
 tus to the accession of Trajan. 
 
 XXV. ON TAl ATTACKS UPON HIS PENSION.* 
 
 Edmund Hurkk --1729-1797. 
 
 In one thing \ can excuse the Duke of Bedford for his 
 attack upon me and my mortuary pension : He camo 
 rcacldy comprehend the transacti-.n^e condemns W L^ 
 I have obtan,e,l was the fruit of no bargain, the product on 
 of no mtngue, t],e result of no compromise, ,1. efet 
 of nosohc,tat,on. The first suggestion of it le er dame 
 rom mediately or immediately, to his MajV^^o 
 
 any of h,s mm.sters. It was long known that the in- 
 stant my engagements wQuld permit it, and before the 
 heavest of all calamities had forever condemnal me to 
 obscunty and sorrow, I had resolved on a total rcTreat 
 • had executed that design. 1 was entirely out o he 
 way of servmg or of hurting any statesman or anv 
 party when the ministers so generously and so noblv 
 carr,ed mto effect the spontaneous bount^ o the c ow "^ 
 Both^scnpt,onsJ,ave acted as became them. VVheri 
 

 148 
 
 111 (I 
 
 ■1 
 
 rm: high school reader. 
 
 I . . ^^"cn 1 could no longer hurt them tho 
 
 .one. .. co.re;:r uirt r:rc a:f .;:: 
 
 of l.fe, and ■„ a state of mind an<l body, in whici, no 
 circumstance of fortune could afford me Iny rea plea! 
 sure But th,s was no fault in the royal donor or in hi 
 m.n,s.ers, who were pleased, in acknowledging the meri 
 of an mva hd servant of the public, to assuage the" 
 rows of a desolate old man. . 
 
 1 was not like his Grace of jkdford, swa.ldlcd an.l 
 
 s the motto for a man like me. I po.s,sessed not one of 
 the qual,t,es, nor cultivated one of the arts, that recom- 
 mend ,nen to the favor and protection of he l^T'l 
 was not made for a minion or a tool. As litt'e dM 
 follow the trade o( winning the hearts by implsin' on 
 the understandinsTs of the iwonlr. Af ""PO^'"j, on 
 
 orop-ros, in i,f r ■ "^P ^^ '^^'•''y ■'^'op of my 
 
 opposed an 7 '" ''"^ ^"=P "=•= ' •■■^^-^«' «"rt 
 opposed-and at every turnpike \ met, I was obliged to 
 
 t.tic to the honor of be.ng useful to my country by a 
 aTdthe "'h ^™^ "°' ^^'°"^ "naequair.te<I with i^' la vs! 
 
 home O ,? '''"'"" °' "^ ""^""'^ '^""> ^l^--' »-' -^ 
 home. OJicrwse, no rank, no toleraticn even f.r me 
 
 had no arts but manly arts. On them I ha;e stood 
 and please God in spiteof the Dukeof Be< .rd and t^e 
 Earl of Lauderdale, to the last gasp will I stand . . 
 
 The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is oblige<l to 
 
O^ THE A TTACKS UPON HtS PENSION. ,4, 
 
 thit whltT r " " '" ''^''p'^"'^''' '^"' '' -^"y --^. 
 
 en 'ul n !> T' Tu "'^*'«''"S his well-considered 
 
 censure upon me, he fell into a sort of sleep. Ho.ner 
 nods, and the Duke of Bedford may dream • am a, 
 <lreams-even his golden dreams-are apt t^ be ill 
 pieced and incongru sly put together, hs Grace pe" 
 served h,s rdea of reproach to .ne, but t^ok the subje a- 
 
 s the stuff of which h,s dreams are made." In that 
 t Jrt ht tT *'"^- '"Sether, his Grace is porfecti? n 
 the nght. The grants to the hou.se of Rus.sell were so 
 cnormou.s, as not only to outrage economy, but Zl o 
 s agger credibility The Duke of Bedford is the evil 
 than among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles 
 
 ce™ 7,,::"'''?,'""^ ''^ "''''■' ='"'■ f-'- ^ 
 
 he 1 es floatmg many a rood," he is still a creature. H s 
 nbs, h,s fins h,s whalebone, his blubber, the verv spiracles 
 through wh,ch he spouts a torrent of brin,e aga^s' M 
 
 |gm, and covers me all over with the spray-^vej^ 
 hmg of hg^ and about him is from the throne. I, t for 
 '""! '" "J,'"=^"°" 'he dispensation of the royal favor > 
 
 I really am at a loss to draw any .sort of niralW 
 between the public merits of his GrLe, by Irh h 
 justifies the. grants he holds, and these .senices of mine 
 
 whafhi ^GrTc "^ '""-^r'r" "' ^^'^■^'^ ' '-- ^^" 
 «hat h,s Grace so much d,.sapproves. In private life I 
 
 have not at all the honor of acquaintance Jith the noble 
 
 o do so, that he abun.lantly deserves the esteem and 
 love of all who live with him. B 
 
 ,.1, ^ , . -- -"' as to public service 
 
 >vhy, truly, ,t would not be more ridictdous for me to 
 compare myself, in rank, in fortune, in splendid descent 
 
If 
 
 I 
 
 ISO 
 
 V 
 
 r.S' 
 
 T//S HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 attcnpt,, to bo useful to my ount,t r""i/"" "^ 
 g:ross a<lula,ion, but uncivil VZyT^-'\ZT\ "°' "" 
 Publ.c merit of his o«n tn i /^^^ ' '"^ ''''^ ""y 
 
 services by which his v., I )"? ^'"^ ""= '"^^^ °f 'he 
 My merits whltevt th '''' P<="--°ns were obtained. 
 
 his are de i: t^^'^Vt f hT' "'" "'■^'"''' "■'"" P<=^»-' ^ 
 sioner, that ha laid ,/, .'"^ ""'=f '°'-. 'he onainal pen- 
 
 said : " Tis™ "Ir. th'^'"" '" ?"'"' ' ^''""''' have 
 
 whathave,t;in.;tht':rr,tL;v:-^ 
 
 an^l fifty ycZlllT 7-7 ""'"''"' "'^^ '"■° ''""''-l 
 
 ■pensions : V . an old m^: ^ifh":"'' '"'" ""^ ^'^^^ '"" 
 that's all ■• "^'"^ "'''y you'-S pensions- 
 
 'a.^^:"lltpt^:;^rtri,™^-cem^ 
 h^-nbie a.f ;it:': St,:" ^ '"t"^'''■ 
 
 new orantccs Inx-o ,..^v. t oince the 
 
 'hat the .^d o^ t;::ve";;tn™ notTo ^ t"T "'t ^"^ 
 'un; our eyes to his.o,y, in nMcir^e "men htr'af' " 
 a^P-^ure in conter.platin, ^X.o^'ZS:'^^: 
 
 « ^::!Z Ku*M"™^"' ''^ ''^^' P"-"-- "^ 'he 
 ■nan's fam 1^ rals^T'h' ■''"■"" "' "' "■^'^■« S™"- 
 Higiuh. A^ ^;" J^;eS:^.: '"™"" "^ "->■ 'he 
 
 t.cncidijy 1^ some resemblance of 
 
ON THE ATTACKS UPON ms PENSION. ,5, 
 
 dcmesnTofThf ^'""'t*^' "°' '^^en from the ancient 
 
 sucked the blood of hi pre.^thtv the^ol uLt':^ 
 fisTa ion'trf"- ■ "^^'"^ ^''^'^^ once the fo^^ oC 
 
 i^n^itrLZ-t: ''-"-*'>'• •>"--- 
 
 Mine was from a mild and benevolent sovereien • his 
 from Henry the Righth. Mine had not its fS; tl^ 
 murder of any innocent person of illustrious rlnW or t 
 the pillage of any body of unoffending men • his ^r 
 were from the aggregate and consolidated funds of^td 
 ments miquitously legal, and from posses^l Voluf 
 tarily surrendered by the lawfnl „/ ^*«sions volun- 
 gibbet at their door. P^Pnetors with the 
 
 tha^ofT"' °' *' ^'■""'"^ "'^°"' ^' d-^^v- from, was 
 
 hat of being a prompt and greedy instrument oT^ 
 
 levelling tyrant, who oppressed all descriotinnT f I 
 
 people, but who fell wit'h'particular ;!:ry ^reverytLn': 
 
 hat was great and noble. Mine has been in endeatr nf 
 
 t:zz;7zz-z S'a':7er r h- -' 
 
 posed to jealousy, avari;e,;ndenvy ' " "' '""^' ^"- 
 The merit of the original grantee of his Grace's pen- 
 
152 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 * i- 
 
 H I ! 
 
 ions was in g.ving his hand to the work, and partaking 
 the spo,l w,th a prince who pkmdcred a part of the 
 na lonal church of his time and country. Mine was in 
 defending the whole of the national church of my own 
 time and my own country, and the whole of the national 
 Jiurchcs of all countries, from the principles and the 
 examples which lead to ecclesiastical pillage, thence to 
 a contempt of all prescriptive titles, tiience to the pillage 
 of .^// property, and thence to universal desolation 
 
 The merit of the origin of his Grace's fortune was in 
 being a favorite and chief adviser to a prince who left no 
 iberty to h.s native country. My endeavor was to obtain 
 liberty for the municipal country in which I was born 
 and for all descriptions and denominations in it Mine 
 was to support, with unrelaxing vigilance, every right 
 every privilege, every franchise, in this my adopted, my' 
 dearer, and more comprehensive country ; and not only 
 to preserve those rights in this chief seat of empire, but 
 in every nation, in every land, in every climate, language 
 and religion, in the vast domain that still is under the 
 protection, and the larger that was once under the pro- 
 tection, of the British crown. 
 
 His founders merits were, by arts in which he served 
 his master and made his fortune, to bring poverty 
 wretchedness, and depopulation on his country: Mine 
 were under a benevolent prince, in promoting the com- 
 merce, manufactures, and agriculture of his kingdom 
 
 His founder's merit was the merit, of a gentleman 
 raised by the arts of a court and the protection of a 
 Wolsey to_ the eminence of a great and potent lord 
 His merit m that eminence was, by instigating a tyrant 
 to injustice, to provoke a people to rebellion. Mv merit 
 was, to awaken the sober part of the country, that they 
 
 
ON THE ATTACKS UPON HIS PENSION. 153 
 
 mi-ht put themselves on their guard against any one 
 potent lord, or any greater number of potent lords, or 
 any combination of great leading men of any sort, if 
 ever they should attempt to proceed in the same courses, 
 but m the reverse order,— that is, by instigating a cor- 
 rupted populace to rebellion, and, through that rebellion, 
 mtroducing a tyranny yet worse than the tyranny which 
 his Grace's ancestor supported, and of which he profited 
 m the manner we behold in the despotism of Henry the 
 Eighth. 
 
 The political merit of the first pensioner of his Grace's 
 house was that of being concerned as a counsellor of 
 state in advising, and in his person executing, the condi 
 tions of a dishonorable peace with France,— the surren- 
 dering of the fortress of Boulogne, then our outguard on 
 the Continent. By that surrender, Calais, the key of 
 France, and the bridle in the mouth of that power, was 
 not many years afterwards finally lost. My merit has 
 been in resisting the power and pride of France, under 
 any form of i<s rule ; but in opposing it with the 
 greatest zeal and earnestness, when that rule appeared in 
 the worst form it could assume,— the worst, indeed, 
 which the prime cause and principle of all evil could 
 possibly give it. It was my endeavor by every means to 
 excite a spirit in the House, where I had the honor of a 
 seat, for carrying on with e:ir!y vigor and decision the 
 most clearly just and necessary war that this or any 
 nation ever carried on, in order to save my country from 
 the iron yoke of its power, and from the more dreadful 
 contagion of its principles,— t. preserve, while they can 
 be preserved, pure and imtaintc-l, the ancient, inb.ed 
 integrity, piety, good-nature, and good-humor of the 
 !>cople of Enjjland, from the dreadful pestilence uhich 
 
154 
 
 'If 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I 
 
 beginning ,n France, threatens to lay waste the whole 
 moral and in a great degree the whole physical world 
 havmg done both in the focus of its most intense malig- 
 nity. *» 
 
 The labors of his Grace's founder merited the " curses 
 not loud, but deep," of the Commons of England on 
 whom he and his master had effected a complete Par- 
 hamentary Reform^ by making them, in their slavery 
 and hum.hation, the true and adequate representatives 
 of a debased, degraded, and undone people. My merits 
 were in having had an active, though not always an 
 ostentatious share, in every one act, without exception 
 of undisputed constitutional utility in my time, and in 
 havmg supported, on all occasions, the authority, the 
 efficiency, and the privileges of the Commons of Great 
 Britain. I ended my services by a recorded and fully 
 reasoned assertion on their own journals of their consti 
 tutional rights, and a vindication of their co^i.stitutional 
 conduct. I labored in all things to merit their inward 
 approbation, and (along with the assistants of the largest 
 the greatest, and best of my endeavors) I received their 
 free, unbiased, public, and solemn thanks. 
 
 Thus stands the account of the comparative merits of 
 the crown grants which compose the Duke of Bedford's 
 fortune, as balanced against mine. 
 
 England, 7m fk a llthy faults, I love thee still 
 My country / and, wliile yet a nook is left ' 
 Where English minds and manners may be found 
 Shale dc constrained to love thee. Though thy clime 
 ur-i ^""^^^'yy^^n Most part, defornid 
 ii ith dripping rai?is, or withered by a frost 
 Jwou/d not yet exchange thy sullen skies 
 ^I'^^fi'^i'-^^'^ifiout afloioer,for imrmer Erance 
 With all her vines. 
 
 CowPEK.— 77^^ Timepiece, 
 
TH^O EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SCENES. 
 
 »S5 
 
 . 
 
 XXVI. TWO EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SCENES. 
 
 William Covvpek.— 1731-1800, 
 From letters to the Rev. John Newton. 
 
 Nov. i;th, 1783. 
 . . . Since our conflagration here, we have sent two 
 women and a boy to the justice, for depredation ; S R 
 for steahnjx a piece of beef, which, in her excuse, she said 
 she intended to take care of This lady, whom you well 
 remember, escaped for want of evidence ; not that evidence 
 was wanting, but our men of Gotham judged it unneces- 
 sary to send it. With her went the woman I mentioned 
 before, who, it seems, has made some sort of profession but 
 upon this occasion allowed herself a latitude of conduct 
 rather inconsistent with it, having filled her apron with 
 wearmg-apparcl, which she likewise intended to take care 
 
 w-n-^''''/r''^ u""''^ ^^°"^ '" ^^^ "^""^>^ ^'^«'> had 
 William Raban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, insisted 
 
 upon It ; but he, good-naturedly, though I think weakly 
 mterposcd in her favor, and begged her off. The young 
 gentleman who accompanied these fair ones is the iunior 
 son of Molly Boswell. He had stolen some iron-work 
 the property of Griggs the butcher. Being convicted' 
 he M-as ordered to be whipped, uhich operation he under' 
 went at the cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high 
 arch, and back again. He seemed to show great forti- 
 tude, but it was all an imposition upon the public The 
 beadle, who performed it, had filled his left hand with 
 yellow ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew 
 
 irance 
 
 appe<' 
 
 I'ound 
 
 upon the skin, but in reality not hurting him at all 
 
156 
 
 THE Hir.if SCHOOI, READER. 
 
 H' 
 
 III! 
 
 nuTa-ful cNccmi,,,,,.,- • n, ■"""I' !'-•■■•* of the t„„ 
 
 slable t„ strike l.n c " ''. ,' '"■"™''"' ""■' "'"" 
 
 tinu„i. till a 1. : t s •'^''"""^■ ""«^""^' ^"■'- 
 
 ca.'c'ati,,,,, :,':";:: ■^■"■•'^"" •""■•>'■ •!■"« -„.' 
 -^ablc the beadle, L:! h' ,1 eel.t, *■'' .'l"' "'"- 
 
 'H-cr.a.the„,,i,,_,,.eo.,ii^;rts,;ri:j 
 
 ,__^I;bein,hisMaiest,.,„ea.,.,::::tri,;S>v.e 
 
 It was not expected. ^.a^cttc, at a time «1k„ 
 
 As «hen the sea is uncommonly agitated th. , 
 finds ,ts way into creeks and holes of roclstlM ?'' 
 calmer state it never reaches in lil. ' '" ''' 
 
 tlK-se turbtdent times is fc'r; ■ oXd ^f^l " 
 ■" general we live as «n<lis.,,rbed by tt^ ' „ ttl 7 
 mcnt as shrinks or cockles that hav bee ,';';:' f' 
 ucp<>.,ted n, some hollon- beyond the water-n^T,; ' hy h'' 
 
 
1 
 
 Til '() hjr.ll Th.EXTir CKNTVN V SCENES. 157 
 
 usual (lashini. of the waves. He were sittin^r yester- 
 day after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very com- 
 posedly, and without the least ai)prehensi(ni of any such 
 intrusion in our snug parlor, one lady kmtting, the other 
 netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our 
 unspeakable surprise a mob api)eared bef(;re the window ; 
 a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed,' 
 and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was un- 
 fortunately let out of [ler box, .so that the candidate, 
 with all his good friends at his heels, was refu:ie(l admit- 
 tance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, 
 as the only possible way of approach. 
 
 Canchdates are creatures not very susceptible of af- 
 fronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in .ij: the 
 window, than be absolutely excluded. In a minute, the 
 yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr. Gren- 
 ville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with 
 a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As 
 soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were 
 seated, he began to open the intent c.f his visit. I told 
 him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. 
 I assured him I had no in.nuence, which he vva:; not 
 equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, be- 
 cause Mr. Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to 
 me at this moment, informed me that I had a great deal. 
 Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a trea- 
 sure without knowing it, I ventured to affirm my first 
 a.ssertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a 
 kxss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. 
 Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me 
 by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He 
 kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed 
 upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted 
 
 'ill I 
 
1$^ 
 
 THE iiia/r scnnor re a her. 
 
 %\^ 
 
 K<-'nilfiiiiiri, lie is v.-p. 
 
 He hasa.nirMf ^ ^ '^- "'''"'^^'-■'' •""' l<"n(lsom.-. 
 
 ■im-,.' It " 4^' ;^;*''"':' -■-;'"■ •■'"• "- "'any nice an.i 
 
 Hcsj.,j,:i^r;^:r:;:^-.;;::'-:fi;;-- 
 
 the (r)'rs barked m.co ^ , ^ halloo d 
 
 "iflucncc for Mhich I,.. i . ' "'''' "''^ ^h-'it 
 
 l-osscsscd ■. i ,;■'"' ^ "'"' .»•''-*■ "■■•<l ' l-on 
 
 ''ot«cc, the CWn a ,,;:■("■'" ""^^ "' ""■ '''^"""-• 
 
 f-a hinwor he L :; t. sIt;; ' r'^' ''"^^^ 
 
 haps, „as a little nu,rtir. i k Ashburncr, pcr- 
 
 my importance. But had he tl '"'^^^■■'^^^'•'"'ati"" of 
 Mr. Gre,n ,lle that I h ul th ''"/''""Sfht proper to a.ssnrc 
 
 "1' {""'•; '"'■'■"'-, "-fe/ Me so/a J,T 
 And n.,„/e >;,e M,M,,, and hul !ussi,,ur,- 
 
 ^oy,y^^„Tlu Wi„„r Evening. 
 
/■■KOM "THE SCHOOL FO/t SCANDAL.- ,55, 
 
 XXVII. FROM "Tm SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.- 
 
 ■*"''"""' I'«"«S1.KV •SHKl<n>AN.-,„,.,8,r,. 
 
 SCKNK.-^ Koom in Sik 1'ktkk Tkazlk'.s House. 
 
 EnlcrSm I'i;ti:k -Ikazlh. 
 A>/V/. When an ol.l bacl>clor marries a youne wife 
 wnat ,.s he to c.pect , "Tis now .si.. n,on.hs3l < t' 
 Teazle ma.le me the happiest of ,nen-an.l I have been 
 the most .niserable .lo^- ever 'nee. We tifi^d a little 
 go,„«to church, and fairly .uarrellecl before Ik M had 
 
 t^^X^Jr """' '""" ""—'^chok:!!;' h 
 
 fc III dunnj; the lioneymoon, and had lost all comfort in 
 . e before „,y friends had done wishing, me 1^7 Yet I 
 
 close w,th caution-a girl bred wholly in the eount^ 
 
 who never knew lu.xury beyond one silk LwnnT; 
 
 d^s,pat,o„ above the annual «ala of a race ta ' Y^ 
 si c now plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies 
 of fashion and the town with as ready a grace as f she 
 never had seen a bush or ^ grass-plot our nfr 
 Snnai-^i I „ , 'i gra.ss plot out ol Grosvenor 
 
 X^pheV- ThrXtfs' -r---,— and 
 
 But I meet with nothing but crosses and vexatTZ-^ 
 
 and the fault is entirely hers. I am. myself, the st'e e,t- 
 
 empered man alive, and hate a teasing temper; an so 
 
 Ij cil her a hundr edtoies a day.-Ay! and whai is very 
 
I, 
 
 ill 
 
 l.i " 
 
 i6o 
 
 Tm: HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 extraordinary in all ^„ ,• 
 
 '"-■■• house, cnc„ura,.e "he 1 • '' ""-' '"=' *•= "'<='='-^ -t 
 Then, .o co™p,ete^4 txarn^M"- "' "" ^'^P^^'"™- 
 ' ought ,o have the pote °fa ^"f ' "^ ""'^- "^om 
 mined to turn rebel too ^1 I , '*"■ "'""'' "*' <!<>'<=■- 
 
 --have,o„,rerK:::;'LtrLtr^-- 
 
 Enter Lady Teazle. 
 
 Lady Teazle, Lady Teazlr^ T'li . ,^ 
 ^-// Tra.. Si, Pete S Pe "°' '^''^ ''" 
 "ot. as you please ; but i ou..ht '/°" ""^ '^"^^ ''' "^ 
 everything, and, whafs.nor^t u ^.'l^^^ "^^ °™ ^^^^ '" 
 ' was educated in the cou 'trv t '"" *°"^ ' 
 
 women of fashion in Londo T' '' '"''■>' "■'=" "^='t 
 
 after they are married ' ^^^ountable to nobody 
 
 Sir Pet. Very wol! m^' 
 -have no influence, ;,o"'::iri:7> ^^'^" = '" "^ ^"■^''-" '■■^ 
 
 ^"'^^ ?«„-. Authority! No to V, 
 wanted authority over me vo,, k ^. ■'""■''■ "^ ^o" 
 and not married me 'an, "''' '''™ '"'°P'^'' ™e, 
 
 , ^-/-.^ Old Tough ,~rT-°'' ™°"^''- 
 Lady Teazle, though mvlif^' u" " ''■ *="• well, 
 your temper. Ml n:t be ruinedTv '"^''° ""'''-PP^ '^>- 
 
 ^"-/r r.... MyextrL™^^°"''"T'^'*'"^' 
 extravagant than a woman of f V '''' ' "" "°' '"O'-e 
 
 ■i>A/. No nn m r *""" ""S"!' to be. 
 
 «. i\o, no, madam, von shall ti, 
 
 niore sums on such unmean ng luxu^ T\ '"'''^ "" 
 ness ! to spend as much t^ " T^' ^"* wasteful- 
 w..h flowers in winreras woL":':!"™; ^^--S-oon, 
 theon into a greenhouse. Ind givfl V-^ '"^ "''^ I*- 
 Christmas. ^^^'- ^ /^^^ c/iampetre at 
 
 ^^^ 7>^^. And 
 
 am I to bl 
 
 !amc, 
 
 Sir Peter, becau 
 
 ise 
 
FROM ^^THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL:^ ,6i 
 
 flowers^ are clear in cold weather ? You should find fault 
 with the climate, and not with me. For my part I'm 
 sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and 'that 
 roses grew under our feet. 
 
 I ^T^f: ^""' ' madam-if you had been born to this 
 I shouldn t wonder at your talking thus ; but you forget 
 what your situation v^-as when I married you 
 
 Lady TeaB. No, no, I don't ; 'twas a very disagreeable 
 one, or I should never have married you. 
 
 ^'^P^t, Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat 
 a humbler style-the daughter of a plain country squire. 
 Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at 
 your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a 
 bunch of k ys at your side, your hair combed smooth 
 over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits 
 in worsted, of your own working. 
 
 Lady Teaz 0\^^y^^s j remember it very well, and a 
 curious life I led. My daily occupation-to inspect the 
 dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the 
 family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap- 
 dog. • ^ 
 
 Sir Pet. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed 
 Lady Teaz. And then you know my evening amuse- 
 ments ! To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not 
 materials to make up ; to play Pope Joan with the 
 curate ; to read a sermon to my aunt ; or to be stuck 
 down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after 
 a fox-chase. 
 
 Sir Pet. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes 
 madam, these were the recreations I took you from ; but 
 now yoL must have your co2.c:\v—vis-d-vis~2,x\A three 
 powdered footmen before your chair; and. in the summer, 
 a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. 
 
l62 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 \. t ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 
 
 fashion, of fortune'of Jkit sit ,^h" ' "T^" "' 
 my wife. "'^"' ' ''*^<^ made you 
 
 J.adj' Teaz. Well, then, and there is but one thin, 
 --you can make me to-add to the oblU^'tf 
 
 ^V^ /'^/. My widow, I suppose ? 
 l^ady Teas. Hem ! hem i 
 
 yoi^:^ » Jisa?:"abTet m" ^"h" T'^''^^^ '° ^^^ 
 little elegant exj^nleP "' *"^''' "^ '" ^^^ 
 
 e^l^era'n- 
 
 the2^i;io':T ''^''='^^' ^°""' >'-•'- - be out of 
 Sir Pet The fashion, indeed i wl,.^. u ^ 
 
 again, 1 allov/. But now ^. " ^; "^ P;^'"""^ ^" ^aste 
 
 now. bir Peter, since we have 
 
• 
 
 FROM "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL^ 163 
 
 finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my 
 engagement at Lady Sneerwell's. 
 
 Sir Pet. Ay, there's another precious circumstance— a 
 charming set of acquaintances you have made there ! 
 
 Lady Teaz. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank 
 and fortune, ard remarkably tenacious of reputation. 
 
 Sir Pet Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a 
 vengeance ; for they don't choose anybody should have 
 a character but themselves ! Such a crew ! Ah ! many 
 a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief 
 than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, 
 and clippers of reputation. 
 
 Lady Teaz. What, wouM you restrain the freedom of 
 speech? 
 
 Sir Pet. Ah ! they have made you just as bad as any 
 one of the society. 
 
 Lady Teaz. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a 
 tolerable grace. 
 
 Sir Pet. Grace, indeed ! 
 
 Lady Teaz. But I vow I bear no malice against the 
 people I abuse ; when I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out 
 of pure good humor ; and I take it for granted they deal 
 exactly in the same m.anner with me. But, Sir Peter, 
 you know you prom.ised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too' 
 
 Sir Pet Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my 
 own character. 
 
 L^ady Teaz. Then, indeed, you must make haste after 
 me, or you'll be too late. So good-bye to ye. {Exit. 
 
 Sir Pet So— I have gained much by my intended 
 expostulation ! Yet with what a charming air she con- 
 tradicts everything I say; and how pleasantlv she shows 
 her contempt for my authority ! Well, though [ can't 
 make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrel- 
 
m 
 
 I i 
 
 164 
 
 .t 
 
 is 
 
 m 
 
 il'M 
 
 I 
 
 W^ ///G// SCHOOL READER. 
 
 
 to plague me. ^ everything in her power 
 
 {Exit. 
 ScENE.-^ room in Lady Sneerwell's .^.;,^^ 
 
 discovered. j"stiH oORtACE, 
 
 £«fe^ Lady Teazle ^//^ Maria 
 
 Pefe:t' ^'""'- "-''' ■^-^'^' I hope we shall see Sir 
 
 senlr^f ^"" ' '^"^^^ '^'='" -■' - y°- ladyship pre- 
 "^"f-^ •^"'^'■- Maria, my love, you look ffrav^ r 
 
 '" *;",f J*""" '° piquet wi'th\r..wt:r '°""''' 
 
 -"To:t,;s7:^rsr-""--^-'°--^ 
 
 forst.^;:^;' <"^ ^ ^^ ^- - - -n^^alous. M, 
 
 to^lSlo Je ^'" "" ^"°^°"^ «^"^ '^'- Vermillion 
 
 r^ff f "''• °''' '"'"y "^^ '■' » pretty woman. 
 Cr^6.l am very glad y„u think so, maam. 
 Mrs. Can. She has a charming fresh color. 
 ^"dyTeaz. Yes, when it is fresh put on. 
 
 itct^Xo?''^-' "--'-'•—': 'Have seen 
 
 attr^ft ^'"^ ' '''"■' '"^ ^°" '^^^^' ""''a™ : it goes off 
 at mght, and comes again in the morning 
 
 -i«;-jy«. True, ma-am. it not r,pi„ „™„, ,„ , 
 but, what's more, her maid can fet'ch'and^J^/ul '°" '' 
 
 f 
 
 
F-ROM " THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL." ,65 
 
 Mrs_^ Can. Ha ! ha ! ha ! how I hate to hear you talk 
 
 Crai. Who? Mrs. Evergreen? Oh! she's six-and-fifty 
 It she s an hour ! ^ 
 
 Mrs. Can. Now positively you wrong her ; fifty-two 
 
 morl .stheufnost-and Idon'rthinksheCs 
 
 Sir Sen. Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless 
 one could see her face. ""ics.s 
 
 Jady Sneer. Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does take 
 she e^T '? "i'f *■= --^^Ses of time, you must allow 
 he^ r. u"'"' ^'''' ingenuity; and surely that's 
 better than the careless manner in which the widow 
 Ochre caulks her wrinkles. vviuuvv 
 
 .Z\t"' ■h'"'^' T' ^^"^ ^"'^'=™^"' y°" «^- severe 
 upon the w.dow. Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so 
 
 o badly to her neck, that she looks like a mer led statue 
 .n wh,eh the connoisseur may see at once that the head 
 ■s modern, though the trunk's antique 
 Crab. Ha I ha ! ha ! Well said, nephew I 
 Mrs. Can.H. ! ha ! ha ! Well, you make me laugh • 
 
 SimJerT' "'" '°' '' '^'^' <^° >'°" "'"'< °f Mis.s 
 
 Sir Ben. Why, .she has very pretty teeth 
 lady Tea:, Yes, and on that account, when she is 
 nenher speaking nor laughing (which very seld, m hap 
 IK-ns), she never absolutely shuts her mouth, but Taves't 
 always on a-jar. as it were— thus. 
 
 Mrs Ca'' y K ■„ \.^'"'-''''' ''"■ tM/:. 
 
 ^i.i. {..I. . ri„„ tj„ you be so ill-natured ? 
 
 panis Mis. Pnm takes to conceal her losses in front. 
 
 It* 
 
li: i 
 
 P 
 
 H 
 
 Hi 
 
 r66 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Lady Tea... I„ defence of a friend it is but justice 
 But here comes Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry. , 
 
 Enter <,\K Petkr Teazlk. 
 
 AV/Va Ladies, your most obedient.-[^«rf,J Mercv 
 - me here ,s the whole ..-.t ! a characte,- deadit eve^ 
 word, 1 suppose. -^ 
 
 Thf "v! '^'"t ' "^ ""'^"''"^^ y°" ^--^ <^°'"'=. Sir Peter 
 a?aX':::'^^" '° <=«^"-'-°— ^ ^ady Teazle as had 
 
 J/^.. r««. Oh. they will allow good qualities to no- 
 body : not even good nature to our friend Mrs. Pursy 
 
 oL%Z """'u' "'" •■" '^°""g'=^ ^^° *«-^ "'Mrs. 
 yuadnlles last night ? 
 
 Mrs Can. Nay, her bulk is her misfortune ; and when 
 
 Lady Sneer. That's very true, indeed 
 
 Jlf^ r""'- 7^"' ' """"^ '"^^ ='''"°^' "^<=» "" acids and 
 small whey ; laces herself by pulleys ; and often, in the 
 
 hottest noon m summer, you may see her on a little 
 
 squat pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a drum! 
 
 mers, and puffing round the ring on a full trot 
 
 T'nT'J *^"'' ^°"' '--"^^ "T^^^'^' f"-- defending her 
 Sir Pet. Yes, a good defence, truly 
 
 \ 
 
FROM -THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL- ,67 
 
 Mrs. Can. Truly, Lady Teazle is as cer -orious as Miss 
 Sallow. 
 
 Crab. Yes, and she is a curious being t( pretend to be 
 censonous-an awkward thing, without any one good 
 point under the sun 
 
 Mrs. Can. Positively you shall not be so very severe 
 Miss Sallow is a near re' tion of mine by marriage, and 
 as for her person, great allowance is to be made ; for let 
 me tell you, a woman labor, under many disadvantages 
 who tries to pass for a girl of six-and-thirty. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Though, surely, she is handsome still- 
 and for the weakness in her eyes, considering how much 
 Bhe reads by candlelight, it is not to be wondered at 
 
 Mrs. Can. True, and then as to her manner ; upon my 
 word I think it is particularly graceful, considering she 
 never had the least education ; for you know her mother 
 was a Welsh milliner, and her father a sugar-baker at 
 Bristol. 
 
 Sir Ben. Ah ! you are both of vou too good-natured ! 
 
 StrPet. Yes, distressingly good-natured ! This their 
 own relation ! Mercy on me ! {Aside 
 
 Mrs. Can. For my part, J own I cannot bear to hear a 
 fnend ill-spoken of. 
 
 Sir Pet. No, to be sure ! 
 
 Sir Ben. Oh ! you are of a moral turn. Mrs. Candour 
 and I can sit for an hour and hear Lady Stucco talk 
 sentiment. 
 
 Lady Teaz. Nay, I vow Lady Stucco is very well with 
 the dessert after dinner ; for she's just like the French 
 fruit one cracks for mottoes— made up of paint and 
 proverb. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Well, I will never join in ridiculing a friend • 
 and so I constantly tell my cousin Ogle, and you all 
 know what pretensions she has to be critical on beauty. 
 
i68 
 
 f; r 
 
 li^i ' 
 
 tr: 
 
 iiH 
 
 
 ^^^ W^// .vc//or;/. y?^^/?^^. 
 
 rro. a„ the .a..rcor,e:':A:'sr "' '-'- 
 
 Str Ben. Dutch nose 
 
 Crab. Austrian lips 
 
 ^^> i^V;/. Complexion of a Spaniard 
 
 Crab. And tectii d la Chinoise 
 
 'Sir Ben. In short, her face resembles a tabic d^hAu ., 
 Spa where no two guests are of a nation^ ^'^ '' 
 
 have a different interest inrl h T ' ''"''^■"' *"' 
 
 only parties ii,.e,y T^:tJr "°" "" ■='"" "''^ """^ 
 ^//x Can. Ha ! ha ! Jia i 
 
 twfTa^^eerr"" "" ™>' '''' '-' i^-™" ^hey dine with 
 
 no .oppin, t.,ese .o^ "^uLt^.r C'^TtT'^ 
 J tell you, l\frs. Candour that the \.Tit ^^""^ 
 
 ;r-"-'- ^---'■- "^^^^^^ 
 
 ie..a.. too jrr^^ Tor a 
 
n-CW " THE SCHOOL FOJ, SCANDAL.- ,6, 
 
 /.-/<• JU.. But Sir Peter is such an enemy to scandal 
 
 sporting wrth reputation of as much importance as 
 poach,,,,, on manors, and pass an act for TheTr^vr 
 
 r,:;ht:r:h:t!,;^ -■-■■ ■ ^"-^ --^^ 
 
 Pen^t2ftf.irct:;terarru:r°" ^^""""'^ 
 U,t ^a,.ed oid maids and^d,- "a p^-tedTd^ '^"°"' 
 Liidj Sneer. Go, you monster I 
 
 Mrs. Cm. But. surely, you would not be auite so 
 severe^n those who only report what they hearf ^° 
 ,h , • '"'"''""' ' ""'"''' have law mcchant for 
 
 indo,sers. ^ "'"'"^ °" ""^ "f the 
 
 Oy* Well, for my part, I believe there never was a 
 .-candalous tale without some fcundation. 
 
 in ttetZmr • '^''''^ '''' '^ '^' ^-" ^ ^"^ 
 
 ^>/^r Servant, zu/io zvhispers Sir Peter. 
 
 Sir Pit. I'll be with them direrfl^r rzr -^ o 
 I'll oo^ ^wa,. , • , ^'rectiy.— [i5^.i7/ Servant.! 
 
 I •! get dway UP. perceived. r j w 
 
 twv Y; "I f'r-' ^™ "" "°' S"'"S to ,ea'vet''p 
 away b, n- ■ ■ t ■'" *""'' ^""'^"^ ">« ' ''"^ -"^d 
 bohM ^.e""™'"'" '"^'""■^- ^"' ' '-™ -y character 
 
 {Exit. 
 
\yo 
 
 • I 
 
 III 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL J^EADEH. 
 
 Str Ben. Well- -certainly. Lady Teazle, that lord of 
 yours ,s a str .r.ge being : I could tell you some stories 
 of him vvould make you b ;.', heartily if he were not 
 your hu.'^band. 
 
 Lady Teaa. Oh. pray, don't mind that ; come, do let's 
 hear them. [Exempt a// dut ]osEVU Sm<i ace and U akia 
 
 Jos. Surf. Maria. I see you have no satisfirtion in this 
 society. 
 
 Mar. How is it possible I should ? If to raise mali- 
 cious smiles at the infirmities or n.isfortunes of those 
 who have never injured us be the province of wit or 
 humor, Heaven grant me a double portion of dulness i 
 
 Jos SinJ Yet they appear more ill-natured than they 
 arc ; they have no malice at heart. 
 
 Mar. Then is their conduct still more contemptible • 
 tor. ,n my opinion, nothing could ex use the intemper- 
 ance of their tongues but a natural and uncontrollable 
 bitterness of mmd. 
 
 If 
 
 Oh, wad some pozver the giftie gie us 
 
 To see oursePs as others see us ! 
 
 It Ukidfrae uionie a blunder Jrct us 
 
 And foolish notion : 
 What airs in dress an' gait wad lede us, 
 
 And e en devotinn ! 
 
 KuiJERT Burns. 
 
 
THE CO ITER'S SATURDAY MIGHT. 
 
 171 
 
 XXVIII. THE COTTER'S SATC^vDAY NIGHT.* 
 
 koHERT Burns.— 1759- 
 
 ;'<-".i. 
 
 
 ^ Let not Ambition mock their useful oil, 
 
 Their homt-'v joys iuul destniy I.>scun' ; 
 
 Nor Grandeur hear with a disdamful simle' 
 
 t'he shui ; and simple annals of the poor. 
 
 Mv lov'd, my honor'd, much resjiccte'l friend ! 
 
 No mercenary bard his liomage j)ays ; 
 With honest pride. I scorn each selfish end,— 
 
 My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 
 
 To you I sing, in siu,i.le S. jttish lays, 
 The lowly tnun in life's sequester'd S( ene ; 
 
 The nuiive feelings strong, the guileless ways , 
 What Aiken in a cottage wr)uld have been ; 
 Ah ! though his worth unknown, iar happier there, 1 ween. 
 
 November chil! blaws loud wi' anr^^ry sugh ;> 
 
 The short'ning win.or-day is near a close; 
 The miry beasts retrea ing frae the plcugh ; 
 
 The black'ning trains o' craws -o their repose : 
 
 The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes— 
 This night his weekly moil i.^ at an *-nd. ~ 
 
 Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, 
 Hoping the morn" in case and rest to spend, 
 And, weary, o'er .■ moor, his course does hameward bend. 
 
 At length his lonely cot appears in view, 
 
 Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
 The expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher« through, 
 
 To meet their dad, w. flichterin* noise an' glee. 
 
 * Inscribed to R. Aiken, Esq. 
 I Moan. 2 Morrow. 
 
 3 Staggei 
 
 4 Fluttering. 
 
I7a 
 
 'i i 
 
 !l •! . 
 
 IT I • 
 
 li! 
 
 li 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL KHADEK. 
 
 Hi, wee bit ingle,' blinkinhonnily, 
 
 H.» .leu,, hear,h..s,a„e, i,i,, .hrirtie wifie'., .„,i|, 
 
 I he l,s,„ng in,;,,,, |,,^„|j„^ „^ ,^_^ ' 
 
 Does u i„s weary .arking cares beguile, 
 
 A" ".akes bin, <,ui,e fu,ge, his labor an' his ,„«. 
 
 Helyve,' .he elder Uirns come Urapping in, 
 M servK-e out, an.ang the farmers roun' • 
 ^■""e ca •■ the pleugb, son.e herd, some te„tie< rin 
 A ■ Mny • errand to a neebor town ■ 
 1 l.c,r eldest hope, the.r Jenny, woman grown 
 '.. youthfu- bloom, love sparkling in her eC ' 
 
 Con.es l,a,ne, ,«;rha,,s, to show a braw» new ™wn 
 Or deposite. her sair.won« penny-fee." ' ' 
 
 1 o bel,, her parents dear, if ,hey in hardship be. 
 
 "■.•■joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet 
 
 And each for other's welfare kindly suiers-'" 
 ' '■; -<-'^>l I'ours, swift-wing-d, unnoticed flee. ■ 
 
 tach tells the uncos', that he sees or heal'. 
 
 he parents, partial, eye thetr hopeful years ■' 
 
 An.K:,pat,on forward points the yiew. ' 
 
 l,e mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, 
 
 -ars - auld claes look amais. as weels the ^ew • 
 
 I he father mues a' wi' admonition due. ' 
 
 Their master's an' their mistress's command 
 
 1 he younkers a' are warned to obey ■ 
 A.. n,ind their labors wi' an eydent ■ •■ hand 
 An ne er, though onto' sight, to jauk ■ ' or play : 
 
 I I'ire-place. 2 Presently i7^ ~ 
 
 4 Attentive. 3 Requiring Judgment '' '" ' ^n ''""""^ "^ '^''"'"^• 
 
 7 De'posue, for depcs'it. g Dear w^.^ >, ^ ^'''''^' fi"'"' '^^"cl.^on.e. 
 
^., /.. »^r.v<# '^ 
 
 THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 
 
 " An' oh ! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 
 An mind your duty, duly, morn an' night > 
 
 Lest m temptation's path ye gang asiray. 
 Implore His counsel and assisting might • 
 I hey never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright ! 
 
 Hut, hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; 
 jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same 
 I ells how a ncehor lad cam o'er the moor 
 ;j'o do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
 1 he ssx\y mother sees the conscious flame 
 Sparkle m Jenny's e'e, an' flush her cheek • 
 
 VW heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, 
 ^A hile Jenny hafflms' is afraid to speak ■ 
 VVeel pleas'd the mother hears it's nae wib, worthless rake. 
 Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben •= 
 
 A straj.pan youth ; he taks the mother's eye : 
 Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en • 
 The father cracks^ of horses, pleughs! and kye. 
 rhe youngster's artless -heart o'erflows wi' joy. 
 Rm, b,,te^ an' laithfu',' scarce can weel behave; 
 
 The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 
 What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave • 
 Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like, the lave.« 
 
 happy love ! where love like this is found ' 
 O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
 
 1 ve paced much this weary, mortal round, 
 
 And sage experience bids me this declare— 
 ''If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 
 
 One cordial m this melancholy vale, 
 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 
 
 m other s arms breathe out the tender tale 
 
 ^ath the mOk^w^^ ^^^ ^^.^^.^^ g^j^ „ 
 
 I Half, 2 In, into the room. o v^Cl " r, "~ 
 
 5 Unwilling, shy. e What is /.y^, rest. "* ^'''^"•• 
 
 17.1 
 
H 
 
 174 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 \ 
 
 \i \ ) 
 
 w. 
 
 w i 
 
 Is (here, in human form, that bears a heart- 
 A wretch - a villain ! lost to love and truth ! 
 Ihat can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 
 Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 
 Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth I 
 Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd ? 
 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, 
 Points to the j)arents fondling o'er their child ? 
 Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction w,ld 
 
 But now the supper crowns their simple board 
 
 The halesome j.arritch, chief of Scotia's food : 
 The soupe' their only hawkie^ does afford, 
 I hat 'yont the hallan^ snugly chows her cood ; 
 1 he dame brmgs forth, in complimental mood, 
 io grace the lad, her weel-hain'd* kebbuck,^' fell," 
 
 An' aft he's j)rest, an' aft he ca's it guid : ' 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell 
 How 'twas a towmond' auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.' 
 
 The cheeifu' supper done, wi' serious face, 
 
 They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace. 
 
 The big ha'-Rible,« ance his father's pride : 
 
 His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 
 His lyart ' haffets ' ^ wearing thin an' bare ; ' 
 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide 
 He wales " =^ a portion with judicious care • 
 And " Let us worship God !" he says, with solemn '.ir. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
 ^^ey tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
 
 I Sup ;^..., n,ilk. 2 White, faced cow. 
 
 4 Carefully kept. 5 cheese. 6 T.sty. 
 
 8 S.nce flax was in flower. 9 Hall-Rible. 
 
 II renipleb, Aere temple-locks. 12 Chooses. 
 
 3 Partition wall. 
 
 7 Twelvemonth. 
 
 10 Grey, greyish. 
 
THE COTTER^S SATURDA Y NIGHT. 
 
 Perhaps - Dundee's " wild warbling measures rise 
 Or i)laintive " Martyrs," worthy of the name • 
 Or noble ''Elgin" beets^ the heavenward flame, 
 
 Ihe sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
 Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame • 
 
 The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise • 
 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page- 
 How Abram was the friend of (iod on high; 
 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
 \Vith Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
 Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; ' 
 Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 
 Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme- 
 How guiltless blood tor guilty man Was shed ; 
 
 How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, 
 Had not on earth whereon to lay His head ; 
 How His first followers and servants sped ; ' 
 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; 
 How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 
 
 Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; 
 
 And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's 
 command. 
 
 Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays :' 
 
 Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," 
 That thus they all shall meet in future day's : 
 
 175 
 
 
 
 }■ Feeds, nourishes. 
 
m 
 
 Wi\ 
 
 M:! 
 
 !il 
 
 n 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 There ever bask in uncreated rays 
 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear • 
 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise ' 
 In such society, yet still more dear • 
 While circling time moves round in'an eternal sphere. 
 
 Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride 
 
 In all the pomp of method, and of art. 
 When men display to congregations wide 
 Devotion's every grace, except the heart ' 
 The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 
 ihe pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 
 
 But, haply, in some cottage far apart, 
 May hear, well pleas'd, the language of rh. soul • 
 And m His book of life the inmate, poor enroll. 
 
 Tlien homeward all take off their several way : 
 
 I he younglmg cottagers retire to rest ■ 
 The parent-pair their secret homage pay,' 
 And proffer up to Heaven the warm reciuest 
 I hat He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest 
 And decks the lily fair in flowery pride 
 
 A\ ould, in the way His wisdom sees the best 
 For them, and for their little ones provide • ' 
 But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 
 
 From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 
 1 hat makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad • 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings ; 
 "An honest man's the noblest work of God •" 
 And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road 
 The cottage leaves the palace far behind • 
 
 What is a lordling's pomp?-a cumbrous load, 
 Disguising oft the wretch of human kind 
 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ' 
 
 t. 
 
 c 
 
 I 
 
 
THE LAND O THE LEAL, 
 
 O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 
 
 For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 
 
 Be blest with health, and pefxe, and sweet content ! 
 
 And, oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
 From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. 
 
 O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide 
 
 That stream 'd through Wallace's undaunted heart ; 
 Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
 
 Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
 
 (The patriot's God peculiarly Thsu art, 
 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
 
 O never, never, Scotia's realm desert ; 
 But ^ill the patriot, and the patriot-bard. 
 In bngj^jt succession raise, her ornament and guard. 
 
 177 
 
 XXIX. THE LAND 0' THE LEAL. 
 
 Lady Nairn.— 1766-1845. 
 
 I'm wearin' awa', John, 
 
 Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John, 
 
 I'm wearir ' awa' 
 
 To thi^ land o' the leal. 
 There's nae sorrow there, John ; 
 There's neither cauld nor cart, John ; 
 The day is aye fair 
 
 In the land o' the leal. 
 
178 
 
 t-L 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Our bonnie bairn's there, John ; 
 She was baith gude and fair, John ; 
 And oh ! we grudg'd her sair 
 
 To the land o' the leal. 
 But sorrow's sel' wears past, John, 
 And joy's a-comin' fast, John, 
 The joy that's aye to last 
 In the land o' the leal. 
 
 Sae de r that joy was bought, John, 
 Sae free the battle fo;ight, John, 
 That sinfu' man e'er brought 
 
 To the land o' the leal. 
 Oh ! dry your glistening e'e, John, 
 My soul langs to be free, John, 
 And angels beckon me 
 
 To the land o' the leal. 
 
 Oh ! baud ye leal and true, John, 
 Your day it's wearin' through, John . 
 And I'll welcome you 
 
 To the land o' the leal. 
 Now fare-ye weel, my ain John, 
 This warld's cares are vain, John, 
 We'll meet, and we'll be fain 
 In the land o' the leal. 
 
 Life f 7ife'7.>e been /ong together, 
 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 
 'Tis hard to part 7£' hen friends' a re dear ; ' 
 Perhaps 'tivill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
 Then steal a7oay, give little warning. 
 Choose thine own. time ; 
 Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime 
 Bid uh Good-morning. 
 
 Mks. Barbai'i.d. — 1743.182^. 
 
THE TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 179 
 
 XXX. THE TRIAL BY COMBAT AT THE DIAMOND OF THE 
 
 DESERT.* 
 
 From Thk Talisman. 
 
 Sir Waltf.k Scott.— 1771-18^52. 
 
 ■ It had been agreed, on account of the heat of the 
 climate, that the juch'cial combat, which was the cause of 
 .the present assemblage of various nations at the Diamonci 
 of the Desert, should take place at one hour after sun- 
 rise. The wide lists, which had been constructed under 
 the inspection of the Knight of the Leopard, enclosed a 
 space of hard sand, which was one hundred and twenty 
 yards long by forty in width. They extended in length 
 from north to south, so as to give both parties the equal 
 adxantage of the rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was 
 erected on the western side of the enclosure, just in the 
 centre, where the combatants 'were expected to meet in 
 
 ■•• VVhik' the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon. a truce having 
 been agned to hL-tweeii the Saracens and their assailants, the Grand Master of 
 llie 'IVhiplars. Conrade Marquis of Montr:errat. and others of the Christian 
 I'rinces, uere plotting to <.'ffect its sni -berment. Richard of JCngland was 
 the leading spirit of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of 
 him or tM iuspiiv his colleagues with jea'usy of his leadership. The Grand 
 Ma ter soujrht to have the King assassinated. Conrade tried to break up the 
 league by milder nie;ins : he first provoked the Duke of Austria to msult the 
 Knglish banner ; and then thinking rightly that the suspicion and wrath of 
 kichiud would fall upon Austria, he secretly stole the banner from its place. 
 Its sate-keepmg, after Austria's ii suit, had been entrusted bythe King to Sir 
 Kenneth, known as the Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of 
 Scotland, who iu the disguise of nn obscure gentleman had joined the crusade 
 ., , a f<.llower of the English K i.g. S / Kenneth was innocently decoyed from 
 Ins waieh, and in his absence, the rr.nner, left with but his dog to guard it, was 
 stolen by (onrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth was condemned to 
 immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of an Arab physician was in 
 the Knglish camp, and who had rescued the King from death by fever, urgently 
 interceding, his life was spared. Saladin took .Sir Kenneth to the camp of tlie 
 
 m 
 
i8o 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
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 '•nid encounter. Onnosed fn fi,.o 
 
 <-poned or shut a p ea " tT"'' l^'f ^°"'<' '^'^ 
 UL di pleasure. Thrones had bcon al^r^ 
 
 agreed thaf th.. '^^"erecl with the combat, readily 
 
 agreea that the sponsors, as they were called .h^„M 
 remam on horseback during the fiJhf A. "^ 
 
 of H.r-. h-o*. . """b tnc ngnt. Atoneextremitv 
 
 of the lists were placed the followers of Rich.rd "^nH 
 
 ttt:t:;r-f'---^^^^^^^ 
 
 tnc rest of the enclosure was occuoiod h^r ru ■ .- 
 Mohammedan spectators. ^ ^ ^'■''''^" ^"^ 
 
 him as a present to Richard with ih l u " ^' '^ ^"^'"" ^'"'^^''-^ ^"d sent 
 
 by when, the ..u..er hadtee^ to 'n ll ''':' '''^'''''' '" -^ -X discover 
 neth saved the king from the ' ^"^"^'"^ ^^^hard as a slave Sir Ken- 
 
 gated, and aided b^ t^TnlV :n rr Tt '"'■ ""7' ''^''^ '^' '"" 
 in C-onrade. Richard thereupon at onc"^'. JT"''^' ""' ^^^^^^'^^ '^e thief 
 
 challenged hin. to mortal en bat' 'irK r' ""'' ""' ^'^'^ ''^^^^' ^^ 
 
 the Princes fron. fighting in person bml ' T P""'''"'''^ ""^ ^^^ ^"^'""^'1 ^^ 
 former Knight of the L^e paTh ' e n ted S :;'"' '" '" ^'"•^'«» ^'^'^ ^^e 
 that the knight, n.ight atoL for heT ^";^^""^^h to fight in his stead. 
 
 Conrade's cause watespouTd S' t GnndTl^^ "^ '"^''"^ ^" '^'^ -''^'^■ 
 and by the Duke of Austria. T.e encoun tt ""^ '^^ ^'' ^°"«'^^"^' 
 
 n.an.ond of the Desert, i" the errrryof Satr^r' ^° '''' ^'^^^ '-^^ '^^^ 
 un.pire. It had been stipulated .1 at hm fi , . ' ''''° ""^^ ^^'^ '"> ^'^ ^^ 
 at the trial ; Saladin, .owver h 1^ " "'"' '^"•'*^"" ^'^""^^ »^« P^«^-t 
 part of the Grantl ^ksterfrr 'a s^at^ur ^1 '' '"'^^ '^'"^'"^ °" ^'^^ 
 lowers. Sir Kenneth had long loved Ed?th P, ^'^"' attendance of his fol- 
 
THE TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 i8i 
 
 Long before daybreak, the lists were surrounded by 
 even a larger number of Saracens than Richard had seen 
 on the preceding evening. When the first ray of the 
 sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous 
 call, "To prayer, to prayer!" was poured forth by the 
 Soldan himself, and answered by others, whose rank and 
 zeal entitled them to act as muezzins. It was a striking 
 spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for the purpose 
 of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to 
 Mecca. Bui when they arose from the ground, the sun's 
 rays, now strengthening fast, seemed to confirm the Lord 
 of Gilsland's conjecture of the night before. They were 
 na.shed back from many a spear-head, for the pointless 
 lances of the preceding day were certainly no longer 
 such. De Vaux pointed it out to his master, who 
 answered with impatience, that he had perfect confidence 
 in the good faith of the Soldan ; but if De Vaux was 
 afraid of his bulky body, he might retire. 
 
 Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard; at the 
 sound of which the whole Saracen cavaliers threw them- 
 .selves from their horses, and prostrated themselves, as if 
 for a second morning prayer. This was to give an 
 opportunity to the Quee-i, with Edith and her attendants, 
 .to pass from the pavilon to the gallery intended for 
 them. Fifty guards of Saladin's seraglio escorted them, 
 with naked sabres, whose orders were, to cut to pieces 
 whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture 
 to gaze on the ladies as they passed, or even presume to 
 raise his head until the cessation of the music should 
 make all men aware that they were lodged in their 
 gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye. 
 
 This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to 
 the fair sex called forth from Queen Berengaria some 
 
1 82 
 
 ij 1 
 
 ill 
 
 » , 
 
 !. 1 '■ 
 
 til 
 
 /•//A- n/cif scHonr. reaper 
 
 criticisms vcr>' unfav(^rablc to Salad 
 
 i" and his country. 
 
 I^iif fi, .J . "•iirtuiM .iMd nis countrv 
 
 Hut their den, as the royal fair c ilird i. k • . 
 
 ^i„ 1 1 , ^ ttiiied It, nenu'" secure v 
 
 >in. UT 1 he ,u-ccss,ty of oi.tonlinj; herself ,vi,h seen,,- 
 "'-•'ayn,j, asKlefor , he present the still „n re e. "', .' 
 pleasure ,if bi-iiij; seen. <-N<|iii.sile 
 
 Mea,„i,„c the s|,„nsc,rs of b„th ehampi.,„s went .s 
 was thcir ,1„ty. to see that they were- , ■ , ,r„ , 
 l-pare,i for co.nbat. The ArclluKe ..f A.,: a ' 
 
 ;.;. huny to perfor,,, .hi. part of the eere.non ' a , ! 
 h.. I, rather a„ unusually severe ,lel,au.:h „p„n wine of 
 Sc na. the preee.lin, evenin,^ Hut the C.Ln.i M st r 
 -f the 1 entple, more .ieeply eoncenuH i„ .lu- ,.<.,. „f 
 
 J.n ":;;;;;:,„;; '"^ ^"■™' ™'-'--^ "- ---i-- .erusci 
 
 Mi;e;:;ran;;::-'"^'^-'^^"^'^'^^'"-^""-^™'" 
 
 "We do, most valiant au.l reverend." answcrci Con 
 rade . scpnre ; •• but even ,-„„ ,„ay not at prese, t „te Z" 
 the Marquts is about t,> confess himself" 
 
 "Confess himself!" eNclaimed the Temnln- in . , 
 where alarn, mingled with surprise and ^ .!" l,': 
 whom I pray thee?" ' ^'' 
 
 "My master bid me he secret" s-.i.l i'. 
 
 The Marquis of Montscn- if u-^^ i., r 
 ^r .. xr • ^ ^'^""i-'>criat was kneel uiq- at the feet- 
 
 httf:i::r"^^'«-^'--'--ofbo,innS 
 
 '•VVl,at means this Marquis ?- said the Grand Master 
 ^up,^f.r shan.e-or, ,f you must needs eonfess, a.n not I 
 
THE TKIAL BY CO Xr BAT. 
 
 183 
 
 " r hnvp confessed to you too often already," replied 
 Conrade, with a pale cheek and a faltering' voice. " i'or 
 (iod's sake, (kand Master, be^ro„e, aiid let me unfold my 
 conscience to this holy man." ' 
 
 " In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand 
 
 Master. " Hermit, prophet, madman— say, if thou darest, 
 in what thou exce^llcst me?" 
 
 *' Hold and bad man," replied the Hermit, "know that 
 1 am like thclatticed window, and the divine li^dit passes 
 throu^rh to avail others, thou^di alas I it helpeth not me. 
 Thou art like the iron stanchions, which neither receive 
 li^dit themselves, nor communicate it to any one." 
 
 " IVate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the 
 Grand Master; "the Marquis .shall not confess this 
 morm'njr, unless it be to me, for I part not from his side." 
 
 " Is \\\\^yoi,r pleasure?" .said the Ifermit to Conrade ; 
 " for think not I will obey that proud man, if you continue 
 to desire my assistance." 
 
 "Alas!" said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you 
 have me say? Farewell for a while— we will speak 
 anon." 
 
 "O, procrastination!" exclaimed the Hermit, "thou 
 art a .soul-murderer !— Unhappy man, farewell ; not for 
 a while, but until we both shall meet— no matter where. 
 —And for thee," he added, turning to the Grand Master, 
 "trkmhlk!" 
 
 "Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, " I 
 camiot if I would." 
 
 The Hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent. 
 
 "Come! to this gear hastily," .said the Grand Master, 
 "since thou wilt needs go through the foolery.— Hark 
 thee— I think 1 know most of thy frailties by heart, so 
 we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a lontr 
 
1 84 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 
 one. and begin with the absolution. 
 
 What 
 
 counting the .pots of dirt that ::'^. TCt 7^ 
 from our hands?" -"uui to wash 
 
 . , " "^.'""""e "h^'f th"u art thyself," said Conrade •■ it is 
 blaspl,cn,ous to speak of pardoning another." 
 
 said tht v::;r^z:^T: """"■ "-""' ^'''""'■■■ 
 
 orthodox rTi K , . """■'' scrupulous than 
 
 orthodox. The absolution of the wicked priest is as 
 effectual as ,f he were himself a saint ; otherwise -G« 
 help the poor penitent! What wounded m n Mquke 
 whe her the surgeon that tents his gashes have' 1 an 
 hands or not ?_Come, shall we to this toy ?" 
 
 No, said Conracie, '• I will rather die unconfessed 
 than mock the sacrament." "coniesstd 
 
 " *^°'"^' """^'"^ Marquis," said the Templar " rouse ur, 
 your courage, and speak not thus. In an hour's time 
 hou Shalt stand victorious in the lists, or confess the^n 
 thy helmet, like a valiant knight " 
 
 ill for'tH^^r'' ^xf ''" '"^""«' Conrade. "all augurs 
 111 for this affair. The strange discovery b;- the insHnct 
 
 mo the lists hke a spectre,-all beto ens evil " 
 
 .h si ^'^ "'" ^^'"P'"' " I have seen thee bend 
 thy lance bol.Ily against him in sport, and JiV^ equal 
 chance of success. Think thou art but in a tournamenV 
 and who bears him better in the tilt-yard than thoT?-!' 
 
 the^Ma:q„Ts.'^"" ^"""'' ^"°^''"^'^' -" ^<=^- - arm 
 "What morning is without?" said Conrade. 
 _^ The sun rises dimly," answered a .squire. 
 
 smills :: T' ""''"' '^^"^''" ^^'<^ C°"-<^- "-ught 
 
THE TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 185 
 
 "T wilt fight the mnrr coolly, my son," answered 
 
 the! iplar, " Thank Heaven that hath tempered the 
 sun oi 'aicstine to suit tl '- < on." 
 
 Thus jested the Grain. . , but his jests had lost 
 
 their influence on the harassed inmd of the Marquis, and, 
 notwithstan ling is attempts to seem gay, his gloom 
 communicated ii jlf to the Templar. 
 
 "This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure 
 faii..ness and cowardice of heart, which he calls tender 
 conscience. I, whom visions and auguries shake not — 
 who am firm in my purpo.^ s the living rock — I should 
 have fought the combat m>'self. — Would to God the 
 Scot may strike him dead on the spr • ; it were next 
 best to his winning the victory. But, come what will, he 
 must have no other confessor than myself. Our sins are 
 too much in common, and he might confess my share 
 with his own." 
 
 While these thoughts passed through his mind, he 
 continued to assist the Marquis in arming, but it was in 
 silence. 
 
 The hour at length arrived, the trumpets sounded, the 
 knights rode into the lists armed at all points, and 
 mounted like men who were to do battle for a kingdom's 
 honor. They wore their visors up, and, riding around 
 the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators. 
 Both were goodly persons, and both had noble counten- 
 ances. But there was an air of manly confidence on th' 
 brow of the Scot, a radiangy of hope, which amounted 
 even to cheerfulness, while, although pride and effort 
 had recalled much of Conradc's natural courage, there 
 lowered still on his brow a cloud of ominous despondence. 
 Even his steed seemed to tread less lij^htly and blithely 
 to the trumpet-sound than the noble Arab which was 
 
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 TJ^E HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 oestrode by Sir Kenn fh 
 
 Ws hea,| while he obLrJerll'',' 'Tf "^'•'''''''' ■^''°°'' 
 •■ode around the hsts inX ' "''"'= "^'^ challenger 
 
 from right to left-the "I'r T"" "^ ""•■ ■^"" "that is 
 
 ..^'^.-.-^-.ehat Lst* :?:':: ■"r'^ "- -•"- circmt 
 
 countries held omin^u," "S^t-whieh i., in most 
 
 ■" 'he .Iress of ,i ™;, as aT " T""' '"= ""'"'' 
 churehmen were also pre;ent t'?k " ''""'■■ °"'^''- 
 linger an.l .lefender were '1 ° u """'^ ""= ^'"'l- 
 conduc.e.1 by their JZcZT'""'^ ^'""^ht forward, 
 before it, each knight t'^'t^.^^--. Dismounting 
 by a solemn oath on the Fv.n , '"'""= '" '"'^ ^ause 
 h.s success might l>e accordim^t^' r''' '"'' l'^^^"' '^at 
 <'f what he then swore The/ "'""' "' ""^'-^ehood 
 
 caine to do battle in knichtt "'"''' °'"''' "«' ">ey 
 
 >veapons, disclaiming the ut of'"" n""'^ "'"" "^^ usual 
 •levices, to incline vltory t" thJ 1 '""™-'' "' ""'^■'<^-> 
 pronounced his vow witlf ' V "i'''- ^'"= challenger 
 bold and cheerful cou tcnan™ ^'" l"^"'^ ™'— ' « 
 *«■•* finished, the Scottish if . , """ **"= ceremony 
 -HI bent his head to t e r'tf ' 't'" " '^' ^«"e„^ 
 ;nv.sible beauties whicr„X ' 'V '" '"'"°' "' '^ose 
 '"-led with armor as he w ""°-''' ""'""■" ' 'hen, 
 wthout the use of the stir ,t' "'?"^' '" ""= '^-Wle 
 «-y bim in a succession feta'", "''''^ ""''' ""-er 
 the eastern extrem.ty of Je tt " "■ '° '^ •^'■^""" '•" 
 sented himself before th. T t-onrade also pre- 
 
 buthis voice, as he Lfthe ::.:'"' ^^I'r' <="°"^'' ' 
 drowned m his helmet. The hn ' ' '^Tt^ ''°"°"'' ^ 'f 
 "> Heaven to adjudge v,^ tor^t^ T "' "^^ ""P^'^ed 
 wh'te as they uttered the fml '"'' ''"'"'^' ^^e- 
 
 " ™P'°"'' mockery As he 
 
THE TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 187 
 
 turned to remount his horse, the Grand Master ap- 
 proached him closer, as if to rectify something about the 
 Mttmg of h.s gorget, and whispered, "Coward and fool - 
 recau .hy senses, and do me this battle bravely ; else' 
 by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest not 
 
 Jiie 
 
 The savage tone in which this was whispered, perhaps 
 completed the confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he 
 stumbled as he made to horse ; and though he recovered 
 his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual agility and 
 displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his 
 position opposite to the challenger's, yet the accident 
 did not escape those who were on the watch for omens 
 which might predict the fate of the day 
 
 The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would 
 show the rightful quarrel, departed from the lists The 
 trumpets of the challenger then rung a flourish, and the 
 heraM-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end of the lists 
 -" Here stands a good knight. Sir Kenneth of Scotland' 
 champion for the royal King Richard of England, who 
 accuseth Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat. of foul treason 
 and dishonor done to the said King." 
 
 When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the 
 name and character of the champion, hitherto scarce 
 generally known, a loud and cheerful acclaim burst from 
 the followers of King Richard, and hardly, notwithstanci- 
 ing repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of 
 the defendant to be heard. I le. of course, avouched his 
 mnocence, and offered his body for battle. The esquires 
 of the combatants now approached, and delivered to 
 each his shield and lance, assisting to hang the former 
 around his neck, that his two hands might remain free 
 one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct 
 the lance. 
 
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 188 
 
 r//£ HIGH SCHOOL 'rEADEK. 
 
 c'...in, in allusion to hfs tte . /■ ~"^^ "'^ ''^°^™ 
 .he Marquis bore, in referen to Ke "'^ '''''' "' 
 ■-oclcy mountain. Each ^hTj u , ' * ''^'''■^"='' ^"^1 
 -enai. .He wei Jt^t ^^ f- ^°a as if .„ 
 -capon, and then laid it in tie rest Th """""^ 
 heralds, and squires, now retired fnT u 'P™''""^' 
 
 combatants sat opposite f^l J^ '''"■"^'■''' ^""^ 'he 
 couched lance andXed v,"r tl^h"' ''"" '"''"''' -'" 
 P'etely enclosed, that thev Too^ .' ^"'"''" *"°™' ^" =°"'- 
 molten iron than belfoTfl f .T"""" '"^" ^'«"<='* °f 
 of suspense was now i, f ' ''"'' '''°°^- ^he silence 
 their .ery sou^: rnS'^ e7m ;?;^"^^^ '^r^-. and 
 sound was to be heard sltt ,h ''^'''' '^'^''^ ""' a 
 
 the «ood steed, Xo e^iw! T'l"^ ^^ P-ing of 
 happen, were nnpaticn't Todl il " ' "t ^'°"' '" 
 thus for perha,. three- minu os K '""'^^'- ^hey stood 
 by the Soklan, ,n hundr^ ! ' " ^' ^ ^''5"^' S'^^n 
 thO brazen clam "s" :^;"T"'-' ':™' '"^ -r with 
 
 horse with the spurs a T ■ ='""^P'°" 'Striking his 
 started into full ^^ op a d thet'"^,'''' ""'"' ""= '>°-- 
 with a shock like a hlltboft tT "f' " """ ^^^-^^ 
 doubt-no, not one mome„r r ^''7"='°''>' ^as not in 
 
 himself a practised wrrTorfo.""'' '"^'"^' ^^^^^ 
 •^n/ghtly in' the mti of h ,' st^f^ T^ "^'f ^"'^«™"-^' 
 straight and true that it 1' ! ' ""§^ '''" '^nce so 
 steel spear-head ;p to he *"'° 'P"""=^^ fr°'" the 
 
 Sir Kenneth recoiled two ''T ^'''"""- ^""^ h""-* "f 
 haunches, but Ihe ride e T ""■^^y-'''^ -"d fell on his 
 
 -in- But for'Sr^nteTa 'J ^^"' "^^"^ '^-"^ 
 Kenneth's lance had pierced Th , T ^^overy. Sir 
 
 
THE TRIAL B V COMB A T. ,39 
 
 of linked mail, worn beneath the corselet, had wounded 
 h.m deep m the bosom, and borne him from his saddle 
 leavmg the truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound' 
 The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself, descendin.^ 
 from ^^s throne, cro.. led around the wounded man ; 
 Nvh.Ie S,r Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he 
 discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now com- 
 manded h,m to avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily 
 unclosed, and the wounded man, gazing wildly on the 
 skies replied, "What would you more? God hath 
 decided justly. I am guilty-but there are worse traitors 
 m the camp than I.-ln pity to my .^oul. let me have a 
 confessor! 
 
 He revived as he uttered these words. 
 "The talisman— the powerful remedy, royal brothc" 
 said King Richard to Saladin. 
 
 " The traitor," answered the Soldan, " is more fit to be 
 dragged from the lists to the gallows by the heels than 
 to profit by its virtues : and some such fate is in his 
 look,- he added, after gazing fixedly upon the wounded 
 man ; " for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's 
 seal is on the wretch's brow." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Richard, " I pray you do for him 
 what you may, that he may at least have time for con- 
 fession. Slay not soul and body ! To him one half-hour 
 of time may be worth more, by ten thousand fold, than 
 the life of the oldest patriarch." 
 
 " My royal brother's wish shall be- obeyed " said 
 Saladin.—" Slaves, bear this wounded man to our" tent " 
 "Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto 
 stood gloomily looking on in silence. " The royal Duke 
 of Austria and myself will not permit this unhappy 
 Chnstian prince to be delivered over to the Sarac-ns 
 
 
■■ 
 
 
 Bl i 
 
 I I 
 
 190 
 
 THH man SCHOOL KEADER. 
 
 that they may try their spells upon him W. , u- 
 spo..ors, an.. .Ie„,,n„ that";, be l^.^ ,^ l] Z "" 
 
 the patient in my ten, ' '"""' '""^ "^^ ^"'"■"-1 
 
 J-Tum, clarion, trumnef a,^f] ^ u i 
 once, and the deeo n U , u^'"'"'^' "'"^ f"--"' « 
 been the E gl.sh 'I;" laZi "^ """'^ '"'' ''^^^ l^- 
 
 and irregular'; ,s of 4Xr";'::'^H T'"''^' ""^ *"" 
 
 his .skin and the Leo.v.rrl *-"""P'"n ««j' chanj-e 
 
 Scripture for tt tp Jw^t/'r^ ^'^^ <""- 
 to you when I have con, cfed In InT ""'" '° '"' 
 tlie ladies the be,r ;„ '"'-^fj'"' 'o the presence of 
 
 of chivalo" ''"' ' ^'' ''"'"'^'''- »'■ ''-ds 
 
 •• And'^ir'"' "^'^' ^'°^''^ "^o-^d assent. 
 
 if she lacks the oppTXity L th ' ^^ "''""'™'"'-'' 
 her mcst princely "^ecept!™^' '"■ ™^^' '"'■^' '"' 
 
 .^ Saladin bent Ws hea 1 gracefully, but declined the 
 
 "I must attend the wounded man" he said -tk 
 leech leaves not his patient more than the chTmpion til: 
 
 
THE TRIAL BY COMBAT. 
 
 lists, even \{ he be 
 
 191 
 
 f 
 
 summoned to a bower like thos< 
 ^TT: ' ' ^^ """"'" «^'d the Soldan, as he de- 
 parted. I trust ye will all aecept a eollation under the 
 black camel-skin tent of a chief of Curdistan " 
 
 The same invitation was circulated amon^ tlie Chris- 
 lans comprehending all those of sufficient importance tc 
 be admitted to sit at a feast made for princes 
 
 "Hark!" said Richard, ''the timbrels announce that 
 our Queen and her attendants are leaving their gallery 
 and see, the turbans sink on the ground, as if%truck 
 down b)' a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as if the 
 k^ ance of an Arabs eye could sully the lustre of a lady's 
 cheek ! Come, we will to the pavillion, and lead our 
 conqueror thither in triumph. How I pity that noble 
 Soldan. who knows but of love as it is known to those of 
 inferior nature!" "ios(, 01 
 
 Blonde! tuned his harp to its boldest measure to 
 welcome the introduction of the victor into the pavilion 
 ot Queen Berengaria. He entered, supported on either 
 side by his sponsors, Richard and William Longsword 
 and knelt gracefully down before the Queen, though 
 more than half the homage was silently rendered to 
 Kdith, who sat on her right hand. 
 
 "Unarm him my mistresses," said the King, whose 
 delight was m the execution of such chivalrous usages • 
 "let Beauty honor Chivalry! Undo his spurs, Beren- 
 garia ; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what 
 marks of favor thou canst give.-Unlace his helmet 
 Kdith ; by this hand, thou shalt, wert thou the proudest 
 1 lantagenet of the line, and he the poorest knight on 
 earth ! & « 
 
 Both ladies obeyed the royal commands.-Berengaria 
 With bustling assiduity, as anxious to gratify her hus. 
 
 1I !| 
 
192 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I:p! 
 
 B'M I 
 
 m 
 
 1 
 
 Bl |: 
 
 band's humor, and Edith blushing and growine Pale 
 alternately as slowly and awkwardly she unc'd whh 
 
 the noble countenanc:^ sl K ^te^i: £? ? ^'"^ 
 What think ye of h,m, gallants and beauties?" Ja 
 
 adventure*:. No, b^ IVoLrorr*' H^ t^^i:: 
 
 ioT L :tii w^:trhe^--*^ ^°- ""- - 
 
 guished by birth a d^ fortune'^Thr'n"" ''^""■ 
 
 new^hatth:''Ki:;:/SdTd^j-^;rr 
 =^:toS:f£S=— 
 
 the first light on thfrea,ra:nftS;;hfrr;": 
 
THE TRIAL RY coxtliAT. , 
 
 I-eoparcI an,l my suspicions were confirmed by De V-.uv 
 
 a secret he shouW have tokl ,o me " "' ^'"^ 
 
 " Old Strauchan must be evmc^ri " ; i .i 
 Gilsland " He knew from ' '^'"^ ^^^ ^"''^ °^ 
 
 somewhat sorter "rifrioTe'':;:::;;- -J:- "-^ 
 
 Mt iswe P,a„ta.enets IVoIlt soft SilJhS' 
 t-dith, he continued, turning to his ro„«,„ .u ' 
 
 pression which calle,. the blfod in to ht ch ^ ^"g"" 
 - % hand, my fair cousin, and. Princf :;tot,a:d: 
 
 It may be well believed hat he th " '''''^"'"^^'■- 
 
 toretit:7/zr:frh™f:f'^"''^^'^'''"-'-'<=d 
 but for its c:,-: dffe eT mt:7or tt:- f "."• 
 
 ordinary shelter of the common C rdmin or Arlb ' ''f 
 beneath its ample an,) =am„ "™man, or Arab; yet, 
 banquet after th. ^" .'^'"''^ covenng, was prepared a 
 oanquet after the most gorgeous fashion of the East 
 extended upon carpets of the richest stnff- vu , ' 
 laid for the quests R,.^ ' '""' <="'*hions 
 
 cloth If \T f ., '*"" ''*""°' ■'"°P to describe the 
 cloth of gold and silver, the superb embroiderv in A./ 
 besque, the shawls of Cashmere, and the ^:Zl:u^il 
 
I ) 
 
 9f!! 
 
 m 
 
 194 
 
 which 
 
 r///': HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 were hei 
 
 fn . 11 .u vcc ' '^'''^ •" ^" *^^''' «P'e"dor ; far less 
 to tell the different sweetmeats, ragouts edged with rice 
 colored ,n various manners, with all the other niceties of 
 Eastern cookery. Lambs roasted whole, and game and 
 poultry dressed in pilaus, were piled in vessels of gold 
 and silver, and porcelain, and intermixed with lar^c 
 mazers of sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the caverns 
 of Mount Lebanon. A magnificent pile of cushions at 
 the head of the banquet, seemed prepared for the master 
 ot the feast, and such dignitaries as he might call to 
 share that place of distinction, while from the roof of the 
 tent m all quarters, but over this seat of eminence in 
 particular, waved many a banner and pennon, the trophies 
 ot battles won, and kingdoms overthrown. But amongst 
 and above them all, a long lance displayed a shroud, 
 he banner of Death, with this impressive inscription. 
 Saladin. King of Kings-Saladin. Victor of 
 Victors-Saladin must die." Amid these prepara- 
 tions the slaves who had arranged the refreshments 
 stood with drooped heads and folded arms, mute and 
 motionless as monumental statuary, or as automata, 
 which waited the touch of the artist to put them in 
 motion. 
 
 Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the 
 ^oldan. imbued, as most were, with the superstitions of 
 his time paused over a horoscope and corresponding 
 scroll which had been sent to him by the Hermit of 
 Lngaddi when he departed from the camp. 
 
 "Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to 
 himself, "which, pretending to draw the curtain of 
 futunty, misleads those whom it seems to guide, and 
 darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate I Who 
 would not have said that I was that enemy most danger- 
 
 ■■ 
 
 
THE TRIAL HY COMBAT. ,„ 
 
 ous to Richard, whose enmity was to be ended hv 
 marr.age with his kinswoman ? \et it now appear tha"^ 
 a un,on betw,xt this gallant Earl an<l the ia.ly w' U ,„' 
 about nemlship betwixt Richard and Scotlnn-Un encw 
 more dangerous than I, as .. wild cat in a ch"Xr i^ 
 m-e to be dreaded than a lion in a distant A.^^^^ 
 tncn, , . How now, what means this intrusion ?" 
 
 He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into 
 the tent earfully agitated, with each strange a^d dis 2 
 
 r:::r'n "'"," ""r"'^" '^ "^"^^"^ '■"'° »'" - - 
 
 extravagant uglmess,_his mouth open, his eves stirin.r 
 'Z^Z:^^'-''^ -' cierorm^erCt 
 
 " What now?" said the Suldan, sternly 
 
 ^'Accife hoc!" groaned out the dwarf 
 
 "Ha! say'st thou?" answered Saladin 
 
 "Accipe hoc!" replied the panic-struck creative un 
 consaous, perhaps, that he repeated the same wo'ds as 
 
 EmptoT' ' '"" '■" "° ^^'" """^ f-'^O'/' said the 
 " Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, " than to make 
 wretch .'—Hear, hear me, great Soldan ' " 
 
 ■^ '■' ^J"^' "r"","" ''*" *"'""' """""g '° '=°'"P>ain of" said 
 Saladm, "fool or wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a 
 K,ng.--Ret,re hither with me ;" and he led him into the 
 inner tent. '•^^ 
 
 brorn":;Vre rfa^oT tfe'r '°' " "^ ^^ 
 the arrival ofL varttch It: rrChriS 
 welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well IcomJ 
 thetr rank and his own ; but chiefly he saluted the^oung 
 
Ifjfi 
 
 THE ff/Cff SC//(H)L K/:Ani:h\ 
 
 w 
 
 '\ ; 
 
 IH I 
 
 u 
 
 ' 
 
 Karl nf Huntnif;.!,,,,, ainl ^roneroMsly mn^'ratnlat,.,! him 
 "P"" prospcxts, which «...„.„! .„ hav.. \„Wrf.r.A u-i.h 
 
 I It th,nk- no. sai,l ,hc .S„I,l„n, "thou „„|,1.. j.,„„|,, 
 ha .h.. I'n„c.,. .Su„lan,l is „,„„. „,lco,n.. ,o Saia.li,, 
 tha was Kcnn.-ih t„ thr sohlary ll.lcrim wl,.n Ih.y ...c 
 
 M"Ur A brave- and ^^cncnnis ,hs|,.,si,i„n lik,- ,|,i,„. 
 
 'all a value imlqH-mlenl „f co„,li,i„„ an,l birth, as the 
 
 .."1 -Iraui^h. which . hcc prnffor .hcc, is as delicious 
 Irom an earthen vessel as fro.n a f-ol.lct of ,',.1,1 " 
 
 1 he Karl of ll„ntinf;,lon ,na,le a suitable reply, ..rate- 
 ft-V -know e,l,M„,, the various i„,p,...,,nt s'rvlct c 
 
 a.1 rece,ye,l rom the jjenerous SoKlan ; b,„ when he ha,l 
 piclfje,! Saladn, ,n the bowl of sherbet which the SoUlan 
 
 a sm, e, I he brave cavalier, Ildcri.n, knew not of the 
 formation of ,ce, but the munificent Soldan cools his 
 sherbet with snow." 
 
 " W,nil.lst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wi3e as 
 ■• Haknn ? sa„i the Soldan. " He who does on a dis- 
 KULse must make the sentiments of his heart and the 
 learnmg o h.s head accor,l with the dress which he 
 
 cavXTof p '"^'" '"" ^"^ " ''^■™'= ''"'' -"Sle-hearted 
 ca aher of Frangistan would conduct himself .n debate 
 
 with such a chief as I then seemed ; and 1 questioned 
 
 men H " "if'^-""'™ f^^^' '" know by what argu- 
 ments thou wouldst support thy assertion " 
 
 Wh.le they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria 
 who stood a httle apart, was struck with the mention of 
 iced sherbet and took with pleasure and some bluntness 
 repi'^t *' *'' ^'"^ °^ Huntingdon was about to 
 
THL 'A'/Al. /n t 
 
 (U//U7: 
 
 Most cicli 
 
 197 
 
 licious!" ho ovrlilf.wwi ..n 
 1 • • 1 . <-xtitiiino(i. alter a uccn ('rnurht 
 
 |vh.cn .lu,. heat of ih. ..,„„,, .,„„ „,^. '^^.';j;2'.^' 
 
 ■■H,ly acceptable, lie si,he,l as he ha.'e.l the u 
 
 ^iK. to the dwarf, who aclva„ee,l and i,,o„ounce.l with 
 .' l-arsh vo,ce, the wonLs, W«v/,. /,„./ T|,e Temo n^ 
 ^'arted hke a steec' who sees a L un.U. ,sh ^^^ d 
 -patuvay, ye, instantly recovered, and to hide' ^ - 
 •'I-. us confus.,.,, raised the goblet to his lips ;l'but 
 ^".se hps never touched tha- .^oblefs ri.n. The sabre o 
 ^. uhn left us sheath as li^htnin^ leaves the cloud 
 
 oiled .0 the extrennty of the tent, while the trunk re- 
 name.! for a second, standing, with the goblet s.MI 
 enched n. „s grasp, then fell, the liquor mingling w 
 the blood that spurted fn.m the veins 
 
 Ihcre was a general exclamation of treason, and 
 
 stb",- ; TT 7 "'■'"^S»'••'""' «'"'«• with t|-.c bloody 
 hK t„ :'"■"'• ■^'■•'^'-' '"•-'< - if apprehensive tha^ 
 
 i:ir;:\;:::.rr"^'"- '^'-^-^-^ -^ others .aid 
 
 "Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin a, com 
 Poscclly as if nothing ha.l happened, "nor you "" 
 tngland be wroth at what you have seen. Not fo"^ 
 
 bT::: ed'rr--^'-""' '"- "^ ^"^'-"p' -■^-".aVLt; 
 
 Ril , r ^ """ '''""■'■• ^^ '"^"'K'"'^'' against King 
 Rtehanls hfe ;-not that he pursued the Prince of ScT 
 
 and and myself in the desert, reducing us to save our 
 
 1 vcs by the speed of our horses ;-not that he had 
 
 sfrred up the Maronites to attack us upon this Zy 
 
 occaston, had I not brought up unexpectedly so many 
 
 Arabs as rendered the scheme abortive -not for a^y or 
 
198 
 
 ■1. ( 
 
 
 w 
 
 If' 
 
 ; H 
 
 T/fE HTGH .SCHOOL READER. 
 
 empoisons th. T f ""^ P''''^"'^^' "^ '^e simoom 
 Td J,r , ^''"°'Phere, he poniarded his .omrade 
 
 eng Jed " "°" "'"'^ '" *'"* ^^^ ''^'' ^oth been 
 
 mL!^°T- '^""'■^'•^ murdered ?-And by the Grand 
 
 Kicard. Noble Soldan, I would not doubt thee • vet 
 this must be proved ; otherwise " ' ^ 
 
 thJT'''-« f'!''' """ '^"dence," said Saladin, pointing to 
 the terrified dwarf •^AUpK „,u^ j . i^ i-iung^ ro 
 
 illuminate the nfeht-seasit .?,•'""* *" "'■"■"^ "> 
 
 by themostconXSea::-"""^^^ ^^^^^'' "'^^ 
 
 amited t" Z^fl Tt^l '^"'' "°'^' ^'"•^•' 
 /" mis.— In his foolish cur ositv, or as Hp 
 
 partly contessed, with some thoughts of pilfering N^cta 
 oeen deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left 
 
 o^lteTaXr '" ^"-^ *^ "''- °^ ^'^ '^^^^^ ^ 
 whTch 4,^- ."J '""^ ^^^'•■■"^ themselves of the means 
 
 man slepfund ' r''''^' '"' "^^"'"^- ^"^ --""^ 
 
 thetr;:'f""h ' '^ *^^ ''''''"'' -^° -n "ea^irnt by 
 the sound of a heavy step. He skulked behind a curtain 
 
 yet could see the motions, and hear the words of the Gm^d 
 Master who entered and carefully secured the cohering 
 
 sleep and fr n '"'' '^™- "'^ "^'™ ^'««ed from^ 
 s^ep, and ,t would appear that he instantly suspected 
 the purpose of his old associate, for ,> ,.... f_ " f^""^, 
 ^larm that he demanded wherefore he disturbed wi:' " 
 

 The trial b y comb a r. ,^ 
 
 i T 
 
 GrlXtlr""'"^ "" ^"^"'^^ '"-■■■ ~d the 
 
 litt?/ we ttfr' '"'r' '"^ '"'■'"^<' <^-^f remembered 
 ittJe, save that Conrade implored the Grand Master not 
 
 to break a wounded reed, and that the Templar st"! 
 him to the heart with a Turl-.ch ^ ^empiar struck 
 
 Aai/,^ l,.r "7 ,^ ^"'^'''^" dagger, with the words 
 ^.«A /^..,_words which long afterward haunted Z 
 te rified imagination of the concealed witness 
 
 r verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causinc^ th. 
 
 they produced upon his conscience " 
 
 silelt::-"'" •''""'• ^"' *^ ^'"S of England broke 
 
 gre'afaet'of 'iiT' " I '°"" "°'' ""= ''-"= -''— =d a 
 great act of justice, though it bore a different aspect 
 
 ow'htdt'^ '" '"" ''"''''-' ^^•'-f- w""e 
 " I had designed otherwise," said Saladin " but had T 
 
 aeserved? Had he murdered mv father anH ,f. , 
 
 partaken of my food and my bowf not a haTr of I T'l 
 "uld have been injured by 'me. But nough : h,'m k 
 h^_ carcass and his memory be removed from amonglt 
 
 The bodv war. rpft-i«-^ ^, ^ , ,, 
 
 slaughter obliteratrdo;;^:::^ Wit trX^^^^ 
 tenty, as showed that the case was not Ixl^l 
 
200 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Y' 
 
 h 
 
 although atthern„.^„ ^a neavilj on their spirits, and 
 
 assu^fd'thc r seats^ thVh"''"°" "' **= ^"'"^"^ *ey 
 silence of doubt Iral ''""'J"'^!: ^^^ i' ^as with the 
 alone sunnoun Id !i?™ "T' ^'" ^P""^ "^ '^-'^^'J 
 ment. Ye" he too L^^ '"'P'*^'"" "■■ ^■"''^"-- 
 
 position, as^TL\:rrs:ii"o7r'r ""■^"-'^ p™- 
 
 insinuatin.o- and accenf»hi ^^■'"" " "' ^'''^ ^ost 
 
 At length he drank off 7""- "'Wch was possible, 
 
 addressing the S^Ln f "'"•', ''°"'' "' '''"'' «"d 
 not true that he h H . 'f '" ^""''' ^^^ether it ,va.s 
 
 . , ^ '™t he had honored the Earl of «„„»• . 
 with a personal encounter. Huntingc'on 
 
 Saladin answered with a cm.-i. ^.i . i 
 
 horse and his weap: ' :, r he^h .'^'l' Pr^''-^ 
 cavaliers are wonf to ,i„ -.u Scotland, as 
 
 in the oesert a' 7 , '"''' °"'^'' ''■^'" "'^^ meet 
 
 ucscit, and modesty added thaf fi, i , 
 
 combat was not entirely decisive he had n^ 1 
 
 part much reason to pride himself on the e"nt""xf 
 ^cot, on the other h-md ^- i • , '^e 
 
 superiority, and wi*ed To ^"""'"'"^ «'e attributed 
 
 " Enoucd f i" , '^" " *° ^'^ Soldan. 
 
 said R°ht d " ndT " f"^' '^"^ '■" ^-^-^ ™-""ter," 
 the smils of Edith pTV" "'°'" '"' *"'• '"- foV 
 
 .ni.ht reward^^tVdT'^rk'Xf Z "' ''^"' 
 noble princes; is it fitcn^ tZ u"" '^>' y""' 
 chivalry should brel ^- ! '"* ''' "■">■*' ""S of 
 
 for future timstrsteTof^u^r '^"•■■"S <*''- 
 
 and death of a traitor t 1 )^''"' '^ ""-^ °^<^'-«>row 
 is here assembi d InH h"^ " 'T ^^'■'""' <"" l^™"^ - 
 
 witnessingTonK^hh" ""'"" ""' '° P^-^' ""'hout 
 
 n. »uu,cthing more worthy of their regard? 
 
 k 
 
'T'tE TRIAL BY COMBAT. ^^ 
 
 '^,Z 12:^^ '°''^" ■' ^^^' '-f «- '- should 
 tended cue^t '^ ^^ Zt^tt'' "^ '7^-^°"" 
 once these tedious wars Yo^def tft":: r"f ^■^'^/' 
 nor can Paynimrle ever hope a ^tt k '''"'^' 
 
 thou. I unles, w^.n, ^"^ '""^ champion than 
 
 let in beha iof Z^Cl f"'"' "'" '^^ ^™'" ^^ g^unt- 
 
 we wilKor al b trforTh'"'' ^ ^" '°^^ ""'* '°"-- 
 ; ^ *°^ ^^^ possession of Terusalem " 
 
 -r n.a„, P-nttarhe^ar rirtr'a 
 were a tempting the God of the Proohet to T , 
 
 :rr rr" ^'^^"^"* -^ ^^^'^'^- ^°'>''> ^ -s 
 
 securely by the superiority of my forces. " 
 
 of ^':^^:^fz;^c^f^^' '" '^^ -- 
 
 " yet, for the lov of holor ,et us Tm atT '??"'' ''"'-■"'^' 
 with grinded lance.s." ' '"" "' '"^" ''>^^<^ "^""^e. 
 
 ..on s affectionate earnestness for the combat ■' eZnJ 
 I may not lawfully do. The Master nL !l' . " 
 
 over the flock- nnt t .u \ P'"*"^^ "^<= shepherd 
 
 the sak of he sheer "L\f ^'^"^-^''^ °™ -^e. but for 
 
 when I fell, , mi^hrhave^^^d' tr hbrrt^':'- "^^"T 
 will, to brave this bold encount^,- • K, . ■" "" ' ™ "''-' 
 
 sayeth, that when the ^^ dsma Is Sn^ Z t"""" 
 scattered." smitten, the sheep are 
 
 n 
 i«4 
 
202 
 
 ff ■ 
 
 ( ii 
 
 ii 
 
 
 I 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL KEADEH. 
 
 to'llI^K' ^T\ ';;'" '" "^'^ ''°^"'"^'" «'" Kichard, turning 
 
 ki^cn he best year of my life for that one half-liour 
 bcs.tic the Diamond of the Desert I" 
 
 spiHtTrfir'™"' ^•7r^™S''"-'="f Kichard awakened the 
 
 1 pl t SalaV,^ ^' !."'' "'^^" ^' '^"«'h they arose to 
 jlcpa,., baladn, advaneed and took Ca.ur de Lion by the 
 
 " Noble King of England," he said, " vve now part never 
 o meet aga.n That yonr league is dissolved no more 
 " ^^ '■™':','"l' ■•"«' "'at your native forces a e fa too 
 
 known to me as to yourself I may not yield you up 
 hat Jerusalem which you so much ,les,re to hold "t"s 
 to us, as to you, a Holy City. But whatever other te r 
 K.chard .l™ands of Saladin, shall be as willingly" X 
 as yonder fountain 3'ields its uators A "V^,^ '""' 
 
 "^ the desert with but two archers in his train !' 
 
 XXXI. "J A HIGHLAND GIRL 
 
 (At IxvERSNKYm.:. tpon Loci Lomond.) 
 
 \\'ILL1AM Wordsworth.-, 770-1850. 
 Sweet Highland girl, a very shower 
 Of beauty is thy earthly dower i 
 Twice seven consenting years have shed 
 Their utmost bounty on thy head : 
 And these gray rocks ; this household lawn • 
 These trees, a veil just half withdrawn • 
 
 \ 
 
TO A HIGHLAND GIRL. 
 
 I his fall of water, that doth make 
 A murmur near the silent lake • 
 This little bay, a quiet road 
 That holds in shelter thy abode— 
 In truth, together do ye seem 
 Like something fashion'd in a dream • 
 Such forms as from their covert pee,/ 
 
 V\ hen earthly cares are laid asleep ' 
 Vet, dream and vision as thou art 
 I bless thee with a human heart • ' 
 God shield thee to thy latct years ! 
 1 hee neither know I nor thy peers • 
 And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears. 
 
 VVith earnest feeling I shall ];ray 
 I^or thee when I am far away: 
 For never saw I mien, or face, 
 In which more plainly I could trace 
 Benignity and home-bred sense 
 Jiipening m perfect innocence. 
 Here scatter'd like a random seed 
 Remote from men, thou dost not need 
 
 Iheembarrass'd look of shy distress. 
 And maidenly shamefacfedness • 
 Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear 
 1 he freedom of a mountaineer : 
 A face with gladness overspread ! 
 Soft smiles, by human kindness bred ' 
 And seemliness complete, that sways 
 1 hy courtesies, about thee plays • 
 With no restraint, but such a. springs 
 irom quick and eager visitT -s 
 Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 
 Ofthy few words of English speech ; 
 A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife 
 That gives thy gestures grace and life ' 
 
 ao3 
 
204 
 
 I (I 
 
 i 
 
 I '■''. 
 
 n 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 So have I, not unmov'd in mind 
 Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, 
 Thus beating uj) against the wind.' 
 
 What hand but would a garland cull 
 i^or thee who art so beautiful ? 
 O happy pleasure ! here to dwell 
 Beside thee in some heathy dell ; 
 Adopt your homely ways, and dress, 
 A shepherd, thou a shepherdess ! 
 Hut I could frame a wish for thee 
 More like a grave reality : 
 
 Thou art to me but as a wave 
 
 Of the wild sea; and I would have 
 
 Some claim ujjon thee, if I could, 
 
 rhough but of common neighborhood 
 
 \Vh«t joy to hear thee, and to see ! 
 
 Thy elder brother I would be. 
 
 Thy father, anything to thee ! 
 
 Now thanks to Heaven ! that of its grace 
 Hath led me to this lonely place. 
 Joy have I had ; and going hence 
 I bear away my recompense. 
 In spots like these it is we prize 
 Our memory, feel that she hath eyes • 
 Then, why should I be loth to stir.? 
 I feel this place was made for her; 
 To give new pleasure like the past' 
 Contmued long as life shall last 
 Nor am I loth, though pleas'd at heart 
 Sweet Highland girl ! from thee to part • 
 
 ^or I, methinks, till I grow old. 
 As fair before iiie shall behold. 
 As I do now, the cabin small, ' 
 The lake, the bay, the waterfall ; 
 And thee, the spirit of them all I 
 
FRANCE: AN ODE. 
 
 ao5 
 
 XXXII. FRANCE : AN ODE. 
 
 (1797-) 
 
 SAMUKL Tavlok CuLKKlu;K.-x77:i-i834. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ve Clouds ! that far af,ove me float and pause, 
 Whose pathless march no mortal may control ! 
 Ve Ocean-Waves ! that, wheresoeer ye roll, 
 Yield homage only to eternal laws i 
 Ye Woods ; that listen to the night-birds singing, 
 Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin'd 
 bave when your own imperious branches, swinging 
 Have made a solemn music of the wind ! 
 Where, like a man belov'd of (Jod, 
 Through glooms, which never woodman trod. 
 How oft, pursuing fancies holy, 
 My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound. 
 
 Inspir'd, beyond tiie guess of folly. 
 By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound t 
 O ye loud Waves ! and O ye Forests high ! 
 
 And O ye Clouds that far above me soared » 
 Thou rising Sun ! thou blue rejoicing Sky ! 
 Yea, every thing that is and will be free ! 
 Bear witness for me, whereso'er ye be. 
 
 With what deep worship I have still ador'd 
 The spirit of divinest Liberty. 
 
 II. 
 
 When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd 
 
 And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea 
 Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free ' 
 
 Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear'd ' 
 
tei 
 
 IM 
 
 ii' 
 
 M 
 
 1 '1 
 
 HIH ^' 
 
 I^HB '- 
 
 ^■1 
 
 WA- M/GJ/ SCHOOL READER. 
 
 U„awdl,,ang,amida.,lavf.shban,h 
 And when to whelm the disenchanted nation 
 The M embattled by a wizard's wa d ' 
 The Monarchs march'd in evil day, 
 
 TK .,'■"•■''" '"'"''' ""= dire array, 
 Though dear her shores and circling oce.n 
 
 A n^ fl ^ P""""' motion, 
 
 And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and grove, ■ 
 
 Vet St, my votce, unalter'd, sang defeat ' 
 
 ^nd",h \ 'T'" *^ '^-"'-luellmg ance 
 For ntr o L°b'";^'^'^^"'' »"^ ™'" ™ 
 
 Sj^^l'f"^'^-'''''*^ holy flame, 
 -cut bless d the pagans of delivery France 
 And hung my head and wept at Britain'i^ame. 
 
 111. 
 
 'n , „ "lusic Of deliveranre strove ( 
 
 Ve^.rmsthatrour:h:rnm~-X 
 
 An?:h!:t:ri7„;^::«^-i>f'''--^^^ 
 
 The dissonance cea"d a, H n "'" ''"'^ "''^"""'^d. 
 When Franc! hrfr;nTdee 4S™ d a't ""' ""■«'" ^ 
 Conceard with clusteringZS ^Vjor^ 
 1» hen, msupportably advancing ^ ' 
 
FRANCE: AN ODE. 
 
 " llTl Tr^^'' "'^ '"'" '^''' ^'^"'^^ -^t flee ; 
 And oon I sa,d. '^ shall Wisdom teach her lor^ 
 
 In tne low huts of them that toil and groan ' 
 And conquering b) her happiness alone, 
 
 Shall Prance compel the nations to he free 
 T.11 Love and Joy look round, and call the e^rth their own." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Forgive me, Freedom ! O forgive those dreams ! 
 T hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament. 
 From bleak Helvetia's icy cavern sent,- 
 
 Herol .1 r/"' "'"" ^'^ blood-stain'd streams I 
 Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd, 
 
 With"h.'^ ' '"'"^' 'P'^ y°"^ -ountain-sno^s 
 Wuh bleedmg wounds, forgive me, that I cherish'd 
 One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes ! 
 lo scatter rage, and traitorous guilt 
 Where Peace her jealous home had 'built ■ 
 A patriot-race to disinherit 
 Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear 
 
 And with inexpiable spirit 
 To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer,- 
 O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind 
 
 And patriot only in pernicious toils 
 Are these thy boasts, champion of human kind ? 
 To mix with kings in the low lust of sway 
 ^ell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey • 
 
 To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils 
 trom freemen torn ; to tempt and to betray ? 
 
 V. 
 
 The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain 
 Slaves by their own compulsion ! In mad game 
 1 hey burst their manacles and wear the name 
 
 Ul l^reedom, graven on a heavier chain ! 
 
 207 
 
ZoH 
 
 :<.! 
 
 
 ii 
 
 Hi' 
 
 r//J- HIGH SCHOOL KEADKK. 
 
 O L,b.r.y ! with profitless endeavor 
 Have I ,,ursue<l thee, „«,„• „ weary ho„r • 
 Did';", "",™""" ""-■ "'•"" «"in, „,r:.ver 
 
 An;iraetiot.,,B,aspr;:ot'r:.r:; 
 
 l,o„ s„eec est on thy snhtle p,„i„„s ' 
 
 Whose pines, scar.e .rave d I ' T ' '"''^''' 
 Had „,ade one m>,nm,r w ^M V ^'"""'' ''^'"'' 
 Ves, while I stood ",u"m ""' *■''•■"" ''"^^ •' 
 
 And shot „yhei„;tto'';;'*;z:::t;:r 
 
 Possess,n« all thin^. with in,e„ ,,t jf "'^' 
 O Liberty ! my spirit fcit th,e there 
 
 XXXIII. COMPLAINT AND REPROOF. 
 
 COLERIDGK. 
 
 H~:^.:i;::^th:^rcLrr'-- 
 
 It sends like stories from ,h. T f '''■""' ' 
 irany man obtain .hafX:;;^:^-;'^'*- 
 Or any ment that which he obtains 
 
 For shame, dear fri^^n.i t 
 
 What wouldst o T^. irrr^ "^'-^ ^^"""« ^--n ' 
 
 nave a gooa great man obtain ? 
 
THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE, 
 
 Place-titles-salary-a gilded chain- 
 
 Or throne of corses which his sword hath shin ?-. 
 
 Hath he not always treasures, always friends 
 i he good great man ?-three treasured , . . • 
 
 And cahn thoughts, regular L'n^ ^^T^ '«''' 
 And three firm friends, more sure than day and niuht 
 Hnmelf. his Maker, and the angel Death. ' '~ 
 
 309 
 
 XXXIV. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. 
 
 RoBEirr «oi;thev.--i774_i8^3 
 A WELL there is in the west country 
 
 And a clearer one never was seen'- 
 1 here js not a wife in the west country 
 
 But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. 
 
 An oak and an elm-tree stand beside 
 And behind doth an ash-tree grow' 
 
 And a willow from the bank above ' 
 Droops to the water below. 
 
 A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne • 
 Joyfully he drew nigh ; ' 
 
 For from cock-crow he hid been travelling 
 And there was not a cloud in the sky. 
 
 He drank of the water so cool and clear 
 
 i^or thirsty and hot was he ; 
 And he sat down upon the bank. 
 
 Under the willow-tree. 
 
 There came a man from the house hard by, 
 Auhe well to fill his pail ; 
 
J 
 
 iif 
 
 :.f; 
 
 r1 ' 
 
 
 ill 
 
 3IO 
 
 Om fl 
 
 
 'f l</:AnE/,\ 
 
 •^'>(l he hatJc th 
 
 <-' str.injri^^r Imil. 
 
 Now, art thoii a ha. hdor. 
 " ''"or, an if tli„u | 
 
 St 
 
 'I'ho I 
 'I'l 
 
 lasi a wife. 
 
 ranj,'cr 
 
 <|ii()tli ho 
 
 '•'l'l''''^l 'l>a.iMl.l tho„ hast ,| 
 
 '•'« mr thou didst 
 
 in thy \\U 
 
 ';»nk tJiis day 
 
 Or 
 
 M\IT I 
 
 lias thy 
 
 K'Hxl w,inan. if onr ,ho., I 
 
 '^'••i' M, ( ornvvall luvi, ? 
 
 last. 
 
 >r, an if she haw, F|| 
 '^ 'las drank ofthc Well of SLK 
 
 II 
 
 SI 
 
 I I 
 
 The St 
 Hut tl 
 
 ^■intiirc mv |if; 
 
 tVIU" 
 
 •-^Vf left a Kood woman wl 
 10 stranger he made reply 
 
 i<) neyer was here " 
 
 I 
 
 '"y 'Iraiight shonhi l)e the I 
 
 pra.N' yon answer me 
 
 w 
 
 '>y. 
 
 St. K 
 
 '>rank of tl 
 
 ^Tne,",m,)th the Cornish 
 
 And. I 
 
 i''^ <'rystal wel 
 
 H'lU-r fur that 
 
 '"'"». " "lany a inne 
 
 'Slic laid 
 
 H'fore the aniiel 
 
 on th 
 
 "Kol smnmon'd h 
 10 water a spell, 
 
 or, 
 
 ^nhehiishamlofthismfte 
 
 A \ 
 
 'Shall drink I 
 
 giftod well 
 
 >ofore his ^^\i^i^ 
 W'py man then.vforth is he 
 I'oi' lio shall I 
 
 'o master for life 
 
 Hut \i the wife sh 
 
 /•otlliolp the husband tl 
 I lie stranger sioop'd to th 
 And drank of the 
 
 ould drink of it first 
 
 icn \ 
 
 water again. 
 
 ^Vell of St. K 
 
 oyne. 
 
 Vou (h 
 
 lou drank of the w.-Jl T «.. 
 
 HcMctluW' ,'"'^'^^'"*"i'''>^'times?" 
 
 '>ct„tl,e(Mrn.sh-mansaid; 
 
-rfff': /su.:s nr uhi^hck 
 
 '■"' ' •^"■1. .she l,a,i iH-n, „!,■,,, „,;,„ ,„^, 
 ^"r she. took a (,„„|e ,„ , ,„.rcl,/' ' 
 
 311 
 
 >^XXV. THE ISLES OF GREECE. 
 
 ''^""^'slcsofCircccc! the isles of (>. , 
 
 UiuTc Ddosrcsc iml PI, . 
 
 ^t^''"alsnmiMcrKild.s them vet 
 '^"^ •'^". except their st.n, is i^!' 
 
 '''<;;; Srian and the Teian mitse. 
 
 'He heros harp, the lovers hue 
 H;HV found the ra,ne your shores Utse. 
 
 ';> -"His whieh echo further west 
 'lun your sires' '^^slands of the Hlest." 
 
 ''\ 7:"^*^'"'^ '"Ok on Marathon- 
 And Marathon looks on the sea • 
 
 And n„,.sing there an hour alone ' 
 
 F.. s^;'''"^''""■^"^'«'>^^!■'^>efree• 
 <"• su nd.ng on the i'ersians' gray, 
 i^-ouldtM deem myself a slave. 
 
 A king sate on the rocky ^,rovv- T, - 
 
 Inrh looks o'er sea-born Salamis. 
 
 -^••;' sh.ps, by thousands, lay below ' 
 
 And men \n nations ;-all were his ^ 
 
\t I 
 
 !.' » 
 
 ' ? M 
 
 tiU Si 
 
 ;l I' 
 
 r//£ wa^ SCHOOL reader. 
 
 He counted them at break of day- 
 And when the sun set, where were they ^ 
 And where are they ' and where art thou 
 
 'Z'CT?'- ^-^^ -.eless shore ' 
 - he heroic lay ,s tuneless now- 
 
 J he heroic bosom beats no more f' "^" 
 And must thy lyre, so long divine, ' 
 i^egenerate into hands like mine? 
 
 'Tis.son,ething, in the dearth of fame, 
 1 hough hnk'd among a fetter'd rac^ 
 
 lo feel at least a patriot's shame, 
 i^ven as I sing, suffuse my face ; 
 
 For what is left the poet here? 
 
 For Greeks a blush-far Greece a tear. 
 
 ''Mus7't"r^'"'^y^--^^^'-t? 
 
 Mut.. but hlush?--Our fathers bled. 
 Farth ! render back from out thy breast 
 
 A remnamofour Spartan dead! 
 
 Of the three hundred gram but three 
 i o make a new Thermopyl^ ! 
 
 What, silent still ? and silent all ? 
 
 Ah! no ;-the voices of the dead 
 '^ound hke a distant torrent's fall 
 And answer, " Let on. living head, 
 
 But one, anse,_we come, we come! " 
 ^'s but the living who are dumb. 
 
 i^'ll high the cup with Samian wine; 
 
 Leave battles to the Turkish hordes. ' 
 
 And shed the blood of Scio's vine' 
 Hark ! nsmg tc the ignoble call-- 
 
 How answers each bold Bacchanal i 
 
 Ui 
 
r 
 
 THE ISLES OF GREECE. 
 Vou have the Pyrrhic dance as yet • 
 
 VVhere is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? 
 Of two such lessons, why forget 
 The nobler and the manlier one ? 
 
 Vou have the letters Cadmus gave- 
 Ihmk ye he meant them for a slave? 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ' 
 
 It 17'a"''''""^''^'^^"^^^ ^'k- these! 
 It made Anacreon's song divine • 
 
 He served-but served Polycrates- 
 A tyrant ; bu^, our masters then 
 Were still, at least, our countrymen. 
 
 The tyrant of the Chersonese 
 
 U^s freedom's best and bravest friend 
 ^hat tyrant was Miltiades ' 
 
 Anofh"' '^/ '^' P'"'""' ^""^ -«"W lend 
 
 Another despot of the kind! 
 
 Such chains as his were sure- to bind. 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ; 
 
 On Suhs rock, and Parga's shore, 
 i^xists the remnant of a line 
 
 Such as the Doric mothers bore • 
 
 rl !?''''\P.^:^^P«' ««"^e seed is s^wn, 
 The Heracleu^an blood might own. 
 
 Trust not for freedom to the Franks- 
 
 1 hey have a king who buys and sells • 
 In native swords, and native ranks, " 
 
 H,JTT^^u^'P''^'""''^^^^^^ells; 
 But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, 
 Would break your shield, however Lroad. 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine - 
 Our virgins dance beneath the shade- 
 
 213 
 
314 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL KKADEJi. 
 
 1 see, heir glorious black eyes shine; 
 Kut ya.,ng on each gl„„,„„ ,„„,,j ' 
 
 My own the ,>urning tet-d.op t 
 •'ot.u.k such breasts „,us.sU:iaves. 
 
 P'.jce mc on .Suniu„,s „,ari,led steep 
 VVhere„o,h„,g,,,,,„,_ ;^ 
 
 May hear our „,utual„„,™urss«J. 
 i>a.h down yon cup of Samian wine i 
 
 
 1 j f ■ ; 
 
 fi.r ' 
 
 
 ir 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. 
 
 Thomas Moukk.^,^^,,,^^,, 
 
 Cxo where glory waits thee: 
 ^ut, while fame elates thee, 
 
 ,„^ ^' ^^i^J remember me '' 
 
 ^Vhen the praise thou meetest 
 J othme ear is sweetest, 
 
 O, then remember me I 
 Other ar„.s may press thee, 
 
 earer friends caress thee, 
 All the joys that bless thee 
 Sweeter far may be • 
 
 But when friends are nearest, 
 And when joys are dearest, 
 O, then remember me! 
 
 When, at eve, thou rovest 
 «y the star thou Jovest, 
 O, then remember m(. I 
 
DEAR HARP OF MV COUNTRY, 
 
 Think, when home returning 
 Bright we've seen it burning,' 
 
 <"), thus rememl)er me \ 
 Oft as summer closes, 
 When thine eye reposes 
 On its lingering roses, 
 
 Once so lov'd by thee. 
 
 Think ofher who wove them 
 Her who made thee love them, 
 O, then remember me ! 
 
 When, around thee dying, 
 Autumn leaves are lying, ' 
 
 O, then remember me ! 
 And, at night, when gazing 
 On the gay hearth blazing, 
 O, still remember me ! 
 Then, shoi^M music, stealing 
 All the soul of feeling, 
 To thy heart appealing, 
 
 Draw one tear from thee ; 
 Then let memory bring thee ' 
 Strains I used to sing thee,— 
 O, then remember me ! 
 
 215 
 
 XXXVII. DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY. 
 
 MOUKK. 
 
 Dear Harp of my Country ! in darkness I found thee 
 
 wh?n7roudr;;i::;Tr r'^^' ^-- '^^ '°» 
 
 gave all thy chords ,o light, IV..don,, and song! 
 
2l6 
 
 !!l 
 
 J. 
 
 1:^1 '< 
 
 ''/ 
 
 ■ ( 
 
 rm WGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Go, sleep with .he unl "^ofV '"' '™ ^"^'l •-- ■' 
 
 ™''---o»et;Lt::rs:--'e. 
 
 "* I waked was thy own. 
 
 ™vin. COMI^E^DISCONSOUTE. 
 
 Moore. 
 Co.iE, ye disconsolate, where'er vn, , 
 
 Come, at God's altnr f , ^ " 'anguish. 
 
 Here bring your wo! 'd h?""^ ''"^^' '■ 
 
 Earth hfs'no »:: "'tt 2:r; '"^ "" ^°- »s--^h- 
 
 mat Heaven cannot heal. 
 
 Joy of the desolate, Light off h» . ■ 
 „ Hope, wh.n all ;herdrft!,T''"»' 
 Here speaks the Comfone jn ':'"' '"' P""' 
 
 ■--has no sorrow tr„^trc:roSr 
 ^ tnat God cannot hea]." 
 
THf GLOVE AND THE LIONS. 
 XXXIX. ON A LOCK_OF HILTON'S HAIR. 
 
 Ii' lies before me thei-o i„,t 
 
 ^-,- ■ . mere, and my own brpifh 
 
 ■'"'■•s it.s thin outer threads is .K " ■ ? 
 
 ;;;''e'ivinghe.,dis.o:dt';™ tr' 
 
 Ran his iineZers I"',°^""''""^''^''' 
 
 ^t our frail plant,-a blossom from the fr.^ 
 Survivmg the proud trunk •-.. T I 
 
 Patienceandgentlenes^-po:;^:^^^^ 
 l^ehold aflectionate eternity. 
 
 317 
 
 r 
 
 XL THE GLOVE^D THE LIONS. 
 
 Leigh Hunt 
 
 I^he nobles fill'd the benchr f ? "^^ "" ^^^^ ^^"'"^ •• 
 
 And 'mongst them Count dVoTe'^ '^'^T '/ ^^^'^ •^■■^^^"' 
 his bride ; ^^' ''"^ «"^ ^^^ hoped to make 
 
 And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that rm • . 
 V*^ and W. and a .„, ahte, alt ".:;:;'£::-;,„, 
 
 their paws ; ^ ' ''^^ ^"^"^^' ^-^ ^^ind went with 
 
2l8 
 
 Vh 
 
 Ini I ' 
 
 U ' 
 
 
 m^T /^/^yy SC7/OOA KEADKR. 
 
 •' '" -^ll <l- I..xt.i,h . „ ; ;:i™^'^ '".-^^ -"'d -'c ,.„ another, 
 
 •'•he Moody foa,„ ahov , " ^ ™' '".'•' ""'""■-"» -»"<h.r 
 
 Said Krands ih.n "(;',,, ^ T '"''''''"» '''''''"kI' ihc air ■ 
 
 „,,,,,. '^"' ^""" fc-ntlem™, were hctcr l,erc than 
 
 I)u Lorges love o'erbeard the k'in.r , i 
 
 VVi.h s„ih„« h,, and ^u^, ' 'l™ -'»> •'-Lv dan.e, 
 
 the same: ^ ' '->^^' ^^^^'ch always set-in 'd 
 
 She thoiiirhf "Ti^^> r' 
 
 He .sure,;':;„, tXerTe t? ^' " " ^"^^ '^^ "^^ ^ "e ; 
 Kins, ladies, lover.s, U Con T "J '" '"" "^ "■^•■' 
 
 !•" drop „,y gfcve ;„ p,o,rh™ ■ '^^ "^'''^"^ '« "-ndro,,,, fi,„ . 
 
 I ove h,s love ; great glory will be mine !" 
 
 ''^' aSe^"^'"- '''''-■'•'-"- then ,oo.d „„,,„, 
 place; '^""'''^ he .soon regain'd his 
 
 ^vhere he sat : ^ ^ "^ ' '''"^^ 'i^' rose from 
 
 "No love," quoth he, "but vinin- . , 
 
 D^txanit), sets love a task like that. M 
 
 t" 
 
 J^ow^h wind, thaf moanest /oud 
 
 <^rrief toosadforsongj 
 m/d wind, 2vhen su/kn \/oud 
 
 ^'t^^^s a/l f/,e nioJit /on^ ■ 
 Sad storm, whose tears ar/vaw 
 Bare ^coods, whose branches strain 
 J^eep caves and dreary main, 
 lhri/,/or the taor/d's wron<r 
 
n another, 
 ■< smother; 
 (li the air ; 
 Jicre than 
 
 y danie, 
 's secni'd 
 
 • can be ; 
 -)f me! 
 'US fine ; 
 mine '" 
 
 on him 
 
 i: 
 
 n'd his 
 
 •s face ! 
 - from 
 
 lat .' " 
 
 '^'^yy-' CLoC'Lf. 
 
 !iy 
 
 ^^J- THE CLOUD. 
 
 BY. 
 
 I. 
 
 I HR INC fresh showers fnr fK .u- . 
 
 T h o ,.' '^^ ^"^ the streams • 
 
 " he. j-oct-d .0 re.s. on .hOMo.hers breas, 
 
 As she dances ahout the sun ' 
 
 ■-e>cithefl.i,o,.,heh,„ ,;, 
 
 And wh,ten the green p,a„,s under. 
 And then aga,n J dissolve f, in rain 
 And laugh as I pass in thunder! 
 
 II. 
 
 'And";:":::'"™"'"'-^*'^. 
 
 Andallthen^r. ■'^'■"""'■''''I''""; 
 
 While t!t^ "'^ '"""" *hi,e, 
 
 " hile I sleep ,n the arms of tl,e Base 
 hubhme on the towers of my skvcv h 
 , '■'8htning,„yp„„,,,,;^^''>^>''»ers 
 
 'n a cavern under is fetter'd the Thunder- 
 I' struggles and howls at fits 
 
 
220 
 
 t 
 I 
 
 If 
 
 m 
 
 I 31 
 
 ■m/- HIOH SCHOOL KEADFR 
 
 ' ne s,,),r,t lu. i„,.^,^ remains ; 
 ^^'Kl I nil the while l.-,a- .1 , 
 
 in. 
 
 The sanguine Sunrise, will, hi, „„„ . 
 
 An.? l,,„ 1 nictcdrcyes, 
 
 '^'"1 l>is l.urn,„K plumes outsprca,! 
 
 '■";(r°",">-^"--l«of„,ysaili„g'j'' 
 "hen,he,u„„,i„,,s,arshi„ctde«i.' 
 
 '\' --'tile alu„ue„K,„,ent may sit ' 
 
 '" .he li«l„„ri,, ,„„,,,„„. 
 
 iii'i 
 
 I M 
 
 % fi 
 
 JV. 
 
 Th^t orh6.1 ,„aide„, wi.h .hiee-fire laden 
 " I'on, u,„r,als call ,l,e Moon, ' 
 
 <.lu CVS glunmerinsoer my neece-Iike floor 
 I y lie „,Kl,„g|,t breezes streu-n ■ 
 
 And wherever the beat of her unseen feet 
 » -i. only the angels hear, ' 
 
THE Cr.OUD. 
 
 When r widen the rem ,„„y„,,,rt.,,„i,,,,„,_ 
 I 111 the rnhn rivers, Inkcs, an.| seas 
 
 Are each p.vur:;;:::;::!^::.''''^''' 
 
 V. 
 
 I WncI the .S„n's throne with a hurning .one 
 AndheMoo„swi,hag,r,„e„f4,°"'' 
 I he volcanoes are dim, and the Stars r,., I i ■ 
 
 «^.en,he^Vhir,winds„,,,;„r:,:^ :'"''^"'"'' 
 
 Sunbeam-proof, I |,a„g like ^ ,„„,___ 
 ,,,, ' ^^ "'""'".lins its columns he 
 
 The Sphere-nre above ils soft colors wove 
 Whtle the mois. Kanh was lau,h„,g beW. 
 
 VI. 
 
 1 am the daughter of Earth and Water 
 
 And the nursling of the Sky 
 i pass through the pores of thc'ocean and shores • 
 
 I change, but I cannot die ' 
 
 'or after the rain, when with never a stain 
 
 i he pavihon of heaven is bare 
 And the winds and sunbeams with tJi^.V 
 
 Build up the blue dome of a" '""' ^^'^^'"^ 
 
 I srlently laugh at my own cenot'aph,- 
 
 And out of the caverns of rain, 
 l^ike a child from the womb like a ah. . r 
 I arise, and unbuild it again ^ ''"" ^'" ^^"^^' 
 
 321 
 
■»33 
 
 III 
 
 Si • 
 
 II ! 
 
 'I 
 
 ^ 
 
 I I 
 I 
 
 w 
 
 Ml 
 
 na- H/oH scHoor ..av.„^,, 
 
 ^^•« ".'I 1 no: .";::" ™'«' - "■» demesne : 
 ■''ill 1 lif ,r,l ( -K ^ '''"■^' »"'■"'■ 
 
 o^ 'ii<-s^,n. 1:; :r '"r '-^ ^™ ^ 
 
 "■/'u.. Kkats. 
 
 J" «"nnKT luxury -h!. h ''" "'<' '^'"'l ^ 
 
 " "h his delights fort,' ""■""""'•■ 
 
 H- ^e.s,s a, ease b™ ^ r" '"1 "'" "•'"> f"". 
 
 J'l'e I>oetry of earth i "^ ''''■'"■''■•"« ""■.I 
 
 r''-■"■<*«t:t:^X•''-'"ve,h.^^^ 
 
 ^"d seems ,„ one in rfl""' '""'•""■^'"K ""•, 
 ll«'-a,no„gso„,e grassy hills. 
 
XUV. THE POWER AND WNGEH OF THE C^SAKS. 
 
 I'lvm 'i-|,K CtSAKs 
 
 Pcncl to fill the office Th, '"'''vulu.l who h,,p. 
 
 was the office I„S ' ''"•" ^-^ '^e -nan, a„,l there 
 
 ^- as a ...c,,.:: ^n'^; rc:;::r r' '*"" ^""^■" •■ 
 
 'ncrccnary army as fn fh ' ^^^ '"^"'"''^ ''^^ a 
 
 ""-I "hoatrr;"!': fir:;' *"v--'-'- n„ii- 
 
 'n«ht actually be turne.) , 7- . u ' *"-' "■'■•* '^'"'h^''' 
 
 ••'t this poi„t,^hat t e cL: fc rof'r'-'''^ ^"" '^-•-' ''^ -• 
 came truly and mysteriou^y awm ""gI' '-"r"" '^- 
 notice of the extraorrUn-,. ■^,, '"'' •^'obon has taken 
 
 Koman empire tt't^^.rp'tTo'^ V'^t "■" "^ 
 "f the Cx-sar. Such u,». T u ^ '^"'" "^^ "■''ath 
 that this was metalvT f' "''"'"">' "^ '^e en.peror 
 
 pathless desertf 'r ' ;Cs VT'"^- ''''^^'" '"="- 
 '•mp..ssible to fin,l CnT "'""' "'""«*• '' ^s 
 
 i"'P-iaI pursuit iV heVi"""' """""-^ ''""' '^^ 
 •here he ,„et the empe^.^Th: t^r tl!""" '" '"^ ■^^- 
 '""■-nmg, a„<l fle.l to the utt .r,n ? ™"^" ""^ •'''-' 
 
 there was also C.es.r k, th ^'"''' "'""'= «'rth, 
 
 Hft, by a dreadful 1 U'^^P";,:" "' ^'^ ■-.tonants. 
 "f imperial an-a-r „ ret ^?^ '""'•' "™"'>'^'*ence 
 
 l-Pes of the p,« h lie '"""" "'"*-■'' "■■'hered the 
 
 the emperor ilsi':^ , ^rrC i;'"" r'"""""' 
 -e fortunate rival. All the Cims'rf ::::::;;;^>' 
 
'I! 
 
 t:i "•"'-'te^r:' Xr -rr ™">' "-"-^ -^ .->« 
 
 '"^" 'h. dca h t ? '"■'"^'^ "'"■«'// to nJ ^ ^. '" "'"■■ 
 "■h^'--c. ruin h , ^"'' ""••< incvitabc,- ^i '""''"'^'>- '"-' 
 
 "-y onii s'L r "''■^^"- '" have rZ.T:"''"'' ^"'' 
 -' ""•aeration wc wiU ^v '^dcned his car u 
 
 fhe wood;, rocesrestr th ^ ""■' P'-Po- he tst 7"- 
 niot crn Tro , ^"<^ provinpf. r. '^sorted to 
 
 ''-'e.s. p,,,;" -;S a very fo^/dable 'ij^;?- '^ 
 
 partly from th ^"^ energ-y of h;, ^ ^ ^*^ ^^ee- 
 
 ''>ene,,ec. and reC^il'-- nature, and 
 
 "^ tne pjovincial 
 
nls of the 
 'Uccess/ui 
 "t-'vitabie 
 ^ in one 
 lively he 
 '^fy spot 
 possible 
 '■. in the 
 'I's own 
 'nation 
 
 mapistrates, the robber canfain ,„ r 
 
 •mtil he ha., f„r,„ecl a l^e arj 7 '": '" '""^^■' 
 
 assaulting. f„r,if,e,| cities ,,,. ,7' """•'/" "-^ '"■^'^ "f 
 
 he encounterc,, a„„ defeat '""^ :t-'''™"'''^^'-^ 
 officers commandin.' larL'e ,l,.t.. i *-' ""1^'™I 
 
 «' '-.!T.h fjrew of consjque ce m'"''' '" '"'"'" ' «"'' 
 l^imselftheemperor's "e'a T.hef'"" l-" "™"' """" 
 
 "ffcred to hi,s ea.es bvlh T . '''''^'" « "<e insults 
 fulminated again, hn,^'*!'! '"T" ■^''"' '""""""- 
 
 of much lo„,^r es^a™^. ^th " "' ''=''' '"'" "" hoi.e 
 
 l'„l,i; t^^rapinfr with nnpunity. 
 
 troo;'tU";~;- "- -™^™«' : .he imperial 
 
 centre ; and ehe te b" "r' ""T T" ""= -'"'= 
 short space of time he mustT ' "^"' ''" =« ^■^'"y 
 
 In this desperate stuatrne^rT''^'' """ "'-'■^'"^^'^ 
 he assembled his troopriaid tf f.!'^'"'" '"'°'""°"-- 
 carted the various stens f^ ' "'""' ■"■" P'^"' ^on- 
 
 then dismissed them as ndl"7'"'' " '"'" '=«"^<=*' -' 
 the first chapter orreM"'"'™' "'"'"<=^^- ^° -''^ 
 
 varLtruir:r:i:e'': ""? r '"•= ^'p-^^ -•^'■'he. w 
 
 these men hid "hrelded Th?" '""'"' ""^^ '" ^'-^ 
 
 through the ver^tto ft~;r:f °'^ "r'-. 
 
 ■ng to this man's gigantic enter'Se n ^H J^^'"""- 
 were as audacious as the pur, .se thlV ""•■""' 
 
 to rendezvous and firsf / conspirators were 
 
 gatesof Rome, Fro \h:Dr'K'" T' °""=^' «' '"= 
 band of robbers severa I '" "'" "^""^^ '"<' 'his 
 
 through an theiSi x?r :oar:r:h'°"^ ,'°"'^^ 
 
 of the military stations, susta ned bv th, ^"t"''"' 
 vengeance-vengeance a.ain t It * ^^'7 "''"' °' 
 
 they knew only bv his nrorlL \ ^^ ^ ^"^ "'hoii 
 
 ^ niy by his proclamations against themselves 
 
226 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 fl-F 
 
 Everything continued to nrosn^r ■ n, 
 under the walls of Rome ■ thTfinTl ' '^'=,"°"'P'^«t<"--' met 
 «nd those also would hi ""'' '^=''<= ^'''•''"ged ; 
 . accident. The ^^'JZ 0^^' '""/°- ^^^ 
 Rome; and, by the hr^ r ?u *^''"'"'''' '^^'■"''™l *' 
 license of th s festival «! I, '! '"^""^^ "'^'■='' "''> 
 to have penetrant t,t":l"' """''^--^ -re 
 ment, when a casu ,1 J^a emperor's retire- 
 
 of a sentinel O^: oTl" '"° ■^""'^^ "'<' ^^P--"^ 
 
 under the terror and uncertainTvXh'"" ^'^ ''"'''"'^ ' 
 much ampler discoveriefth"!^ ' "°'"'="'' '^'^ "^^de 
 
 the other accomplice^^e secured'" IT'"^" "' "'"^ ' 
 delivered from the uolifted ^ ^ Commodus was 
 
 sought him by months of f^^'" °' '"^-^ -''° ^ad 
 though all th^e depths of the' Ml' "^"t""^^' P"^'-'' 
 difficulties of the A^piL passes Tt"" '""'^' '"^ ">« 
 words of admiratinA 7 ' " ""' ^a^y to find 
 
 hardihood of a s iTv -! w;oT'"''""'; '° '"^ --gefc 
 to an edict summarily on^rh T'^'' "'" ^^P"-' 
 death, determines to cross |u"n '° P^"-^«cution and 
 
 though no less a person than ^h"^' '" ''"''' °^ "^ ^"'^or. 
 to seek him out in IheTnl . "'^''"' "^ "'^ ^^''W- 
 of his private palace of v "'""""'' "^^'^ ^^Pital city, 
 aud the're toUg Tda' 'e'^i^Tr'^' bed-chamber- 
 -■- the imUl =eXrrr IS 
 
 p^^" tSe tirfm-prr'f r "^ -' ^"-- 
 
 ordinary perils wh.VK "^Perors office, were the extra- 
 
 The oi^ee'rt J' ts gt^d" t'"' '"""''"'' °'«-'-- 
 
 clouds and vaporf o ef "h ^ 'l' ''''"" ^''''^^ ">^ 
 
 Personal security as uns bstant al asTh""^'' 'f '''" 
 
 vapors. N-r is it oo-ibl. ■• "^ "'anderine- 
 
 po..,oIe tnat these circumstances of 
 
ators met 
 irranged ; 
 a trifling- 
 rnrval at 
 'hich the 
 rcrs were 
 's retire- 
 ispicions 
 trrested ; 
 iie made 
 of him ; 
 dus was 
 ^ho had 
 pursued 
 md the 
 to find 
 lergetic 
 reprisal 
 on and 
 author, 
 orld — . 
 il city, 
 iber — ■ 
 equate 
 gainst 
 
 lowed 
 ;xtra- 
 fficer. 
 a the 
 d his 
 erfng 
 es of 
 
 UNTHOUGHTFULNESS. 
 
 violent opposition can be better \\\^^^^r.,^^ .u ■ 
 tale of Herodian. Whilst thl '^^"'^'^ "^^ ^^^^ ^" this 
 were stretched out to ar est 0'^^ "'^'^^ ^""^^ 
 of Asia, a poor slave is sTentr "TJ"" '''' '^^^""^ 
 round the base of the Alp " h .h ''" '^ ""'^^'"^ 
 i^is way as a murderer ^o The '"TT '' "'""'"^ 
 
 Csar is watching som: ^^ot en reZuf^ thet^'^^"'^^ '' 
 distance of two thousand leagues and L ,""?' '' " 
 
 dagger which is within three st'eautvstr"';-^ ''' 
 tiger's leap, of his own heart AH the ^u' '"' 
 
 depths which belong to ma'.'s fra1 u u^^'' '"^^ '^' 
 
 glory and meannes! L . ^' ""^^ '^^ "^"^'■''^^ts of 
 
 andTowestr uman asualt ""''"^-^'^^'^^ '^ ^^^'^-^ 
 the Roman cJ^Z ""'"^^f ^' "^^^^'"^^ >'" the station of 
 
 call hirTnto i^;;tTbTe t^^^^ ^°"^^^-^ ^« 
 
 most interesting stuXo a f'h" v"''^ '^" ^^^ 
 blazoned with c'olo rof fi e L trd '^'7 '"^ ^"■ 
 -t lavishly w.h diademt fXrt:^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^ 
 
 XLV. UNTHOUGHTFULNESS. 
 
 Dr. AKNOLD.-1795.1842. 
 ^ Z^r^^;-. ^./,V..rrf i„ R^gl,y Chapel, 
 
 bv e^,.. V .r ! °"^ ^^ery thing, carried .hout 
 
 with:uvu;i;t ^Buuh?:' ^^''°" ^--^edge,";:d 
 
 ^ ^ut the term spiritual folly includes, 
 
228 
 
 PI 
 
 tj 
 
 ^happily, 
 
 rm HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 "nhapp.iy, a g,,^^^ 
 
 "ot those only who are in thn ""^ ' " ''"^^ =n 
 
 f--;»h, but aUt "r; ir r r "" "' ''■= '^™ 
 
 of the term clever and m u ^^ common sense 
 
 mon sense of thrterms T7 " "^ '=^'=" '" '^^ -^om- 
 W-. It is bu „7e" ;£ th'Ie ""■''■"'^; "'""^*'^"'> -«' 
 who have ever lived u „„ el«h T" k ""^ ''^''^^' •"^" 
 degree spiritually foo ^d'';^^^'''^.•=" '" "« k- a 
 much truth that Chril L Jt T' " '' "°' "'"'""t 
 -•nsufficieney of wor' ly ' ^doTldT "'"" "''™ "^= 
 readers to beware, lestfwh e pXl^T "",""' ^'^''^ 
 -. they should be aeeount^/rSt^l- ^^^ 
 
 -•t w:rf:ortHd,y ITtf "' '"".*''- ^^''° -. as 
 -'though this also°st«eTn a "?•"'" '•^''"- ^od,- 
 certain peecliar eircumsln " " ''="''=' ''"^ ""^er 
 
 the very reverse ^S'TnT;.^:' '1^" ^^ -ally, it is 
 language whieh hasTeen Zt T '"' ^"'' '"^^"'»"» 
 been extremely mte^vouf'onlr;'': '"'T''^' 
 ■3 foolish in worldly matte s " lil-H ,"'^' '"' ''^'^ 
 mo.'^t commonly is no les, f , u ^ "'"^ '" l^^' ^"d 
 
 And the oppos^;:'::,?^ r art ;: *^?'"f -^ ^°<^ 
 
 strange confusion between" ™*'"'>' f''"'" 'hat 
 
 which many ignoran p^Lrr"" '"' ''""°^'^"-' -'" 
 Whereas, if yf^ ta Jl ™ WsT '^f ,"'^'"^'='^^»- 
 not b,,ng him to the stite of r "^""^^'edge, you do 
 
 bn-te; and of oneof th mo^ " 'h ' '"' '" "^'" "^ ^ 
 of the brute creation For , "''1'^"'""" ^''d malignant 
 the man's body by lowering '" "°''^-^-^™ ^ -aken 
 
 h- -strength a,^ his pasToL L"' ^ *"= ''"' "'^'- 
 ■self-indulgence, the strength TV. "'""""■' '^«'^'"S to 
 them by continued ^t^- SL^'t;:;^;;'^^ '^^ - ^-d 
 
 ' ■'^^^^'"1 not think, it is 
 
t takes in 
 f the term 
 mon sense 
 ' the com- 
 ^htful, and 
 blest men 
 
 no less a 
 t without 
 upon the 
 led their 
 ^es to be 
 
 i^Jffht of 
 
 o are, as 
 God,^ 
 
 i under 
 
 lly, it is 
 
 cautious 
 
 ect, has 
 
 he who 
 
 3e, and 
 
 'f God. 
 
 n that 
 
 e, with 
 
 selves. 
 
 ou do 
 
 tof a 
 
 gnant 
 
 eaken 
 
 -tains 
 
 ig to 
 feed 
 
 , it is 
 
 ^^THOUGHTFULNESS. 
 
 upon God. But you c^nn^Alroyt T'' ""/T' " 
 mg means to ends nor th.f r ^ P°"'"' °<^ adapt- 
 by fraud or falset::^ you ^""T'T^ "''^ P-P»- 
 leave that cunning whkh ™ I ! "^ ^^ " "'•^<'"™- and 
 savage and tl,e madman Z k "°'°"°"^'y both the 
 as regards earthly »"•,! " I ",' "''° '^ '^ ^°"' - far 
 regard to heavenly thinl, L T '""''" ^ '■"°' "'"h 
 even to the lower S' ho "*" ''""°' '"'"•'^ himself 
 %herP he who is ttout rcl " .'" '"="" '" '^e 
 shall he he endowed ^llhlT; H^ oTcodr ""^ '^°- 
 
 truth;ih?htr..::r lo " rL"' '°"^ """'^'--^^ -^ '■'■•« 
 
 ■•" your own improvement^ hu'm"'? "^"' °' -■"'--' 
 I observe it -over thT,! , "earning, whenever 
 
 childish spirit ZL^^T'^t ^:''^"^^^^^^s and 
 
 of interest which I frrieve for ■;■ ' ^''t!'"™'^'' ^"'i *ant 
 but too impartiallftru,T"'''"='"^^"^"''s itself, 
 
 divine knowledge ^^'^t't'^'^ "i ^^^'•>' "^-O = ^o 
 to human. 71,00 wlr^ '''''''''^' '""" ""^''^ *an 
 about their generl'i C o„, :: rr '^ """ ^"*- 
 careless about their Bihies ■' X ^ , '&""'ant and as 
 general literature in ^^'' "l"'^° "'"^^ "° '"'erest in 
 have- certainly no' grfaTe^'^^^ff 7' "••'•" philosophy, 
 
 of theology, but in worL f ' "°' ■"''y '■" ^^rks 
 
 the interest of The^ mt ^ ""^ '" P">'"^- ^las, 
 
 lon-er than the very loTve s „' ^T-f °" "''"^' f- 
 and therefore, to ee them ."• '''™ "'"'"'^ ' 
 
 little higher than ,1 dr preTenf '"■'" ""'"'"'"« ""'^ " 
 
 encouraging, it woui:,-;:S::-- 
 
230 
 
 Iff'r ': 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 HI i 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 - .He. contend and seelX^ M^„;it;:'^^^^^^^ 
 evi "T;'.^' ""^ -'^. - - '■"ture and merely contort' 
 
 nearer t,. the Kingdom of God ' "^ "'"^ ''^"^^- 
 
 th,^k t mo'f" ''"• ''°"-^^'=^' -"ich I cannot but 
 tlimk IS more frequent now than formerly and if if i 
 
 school- essons, but really attains to considcrabfe p ofi 
 
 wantmg a spirit of manly, and much more of Ch i ti^, 
 thoughtfulness. There is quickness and cleveme' 
 much pleasure, perhaps, in distinction, but lileTim ' 
 provement; there is no desire of knowled^P 1 • 
 sake, whether human or divine The e i^Th V 7" 
 Httle power of combining and ^^^:r:^. 
 
 uie mina. ihis same character show^j i>«^if 
 
 LlTv u'"'"""' • '■' *'" ^^°P'' --"^^t cX e he 
 
 "r Ihr^ ,' '=°"""°"P'-<= "°t-ns of boys, abou^ that 
 IS right and wrone- • it will r,^«. i wudt 
 
 regu ar care of its own, with reference to pleLnt Cod 
 It Will not do nn.,fi,;„^ !_,., . , pleasing God ; 
 
 ,-.^.h,ng .uw or wicked, but it will some- 
 
t short of 
 ence, and 
 ■ perfect ; 
 mtingcnt 
 
 1 earthly 
 degrees, 
 
 mot but 
 i if it is 
 ition to 
 are not 
 ivanced 
 :lect its 
 
 2 profi- 
 miable, 
 grosser 
 3U will 
 s to be 
 ristian, 
 rness ; 
 in im- 
 :s own 
 ■e, but 
 read ; 
 takes 
 itself 
 
 e, the 
 what 
 1 the 
 what 
 s no 
 jod ; 
 ^me- 
 
 UNTHOUGHTFULNESS. 
 
 Ind onn ^"^^"•-^g-' nay, it will sometimes thwart 
 
 and oppose anything that breathes a higher spirit, and 
 asserts a more manly and Christian standard of dut; 
 
 One cause of this consists in the number and character 
 and cheapness, and peculiar mode of publication of the 
 works of amusement of the present day. The wo/ks ^f 
 amusement published only a very few years since w^re 
 comparatively ew in n.mber; they were less exciting 
 and therefore less attractive ; they were dearer, and 
 there ore less accessible; and, not being published peri- 
 odically, they did not occupy the mind for so long a 
 time, nor keep alive so constant an expectation ; nor, by 
 hus dwelhng upon the mind, and distilling themselves 
 
 largely, coloring even, m many instances, its very lan- 
 guage, and affording frequent matter for conversation . 
 
 The evil of all these circumstances is actually enormous. 
 Ihe mass of human minds, and much more of the minds 
 ot young persons, have no great appetite for intellectual 
 exercise ; but they have some, which by careful treat 
 ment may be strengthened and increased. But here to 
 this weak and delicate appetite is presented an abun- 
 dance of the most stimulating and least nourishing food 
 possible. It snatches it greedily, and is not only satisfied 
 but actual y conceives a distaste for anything simpler and 
 more wholesome. That curiosity which is wisely given 
 us to lead us on to knowledge, finds its full gratification 
 m the details of an exciting and protracted story, and 
 then lies down as it were gorged, and goes to sleep. 
 Other faculties claim their turn, and have it. We know 
 that in youth the healthy body and lively spirits require 
 exercise, and in this they may and ought to be indulged • 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
31-> 
 
 IM 
 
 P'i 
 
 but the time and 
 
 ''"'■ ""'" -"-Moot. KEADER. 
 
 interest which 
 
 Wy has had i,. J^:^^^^- "^" ^"^^ ^e 
 ■;hare, this !„,, bcv,. alrea.ly ^,s , ''^'"""' •'^»'>'^» ''« 
 th.n?s uitcly „np,.„fi,,,b|,:'^ "■ '" ""'■ '^•'''■""^ted upon 
 -.k hurriciiy and lan.n , „; , 'f ^' "'■"'' ^'"^ '" "» 
 than a burden. The ,nere .' '' " '" '«' "" '""re 
 
 ■-- "f <iu,-,- but ; rrXr'T'^'-''--^ '•-na 
 
 youn,. persons ofabih-ty,™,,;;::^^; ■•""■'" "■^''^ "' 
 one portion or other of the w de fi I " "' "''°" ''^"'"^ 
 
 'h-o expatiate, drinki,,,; ,;^^^ ^^''^^ "1 -"-''-'dsc. and 
 ■»'"<1. as surely as the natural v ""'™^"'' '" "«= 
 
 <" ;t bodily vi,or,-_,„at : t:r;;:r r' 'r ''"'>' ^'^- 
 
 ••'"'" corrupted ; and all tl e l ''"■ "f "'"'^ly. Perverted, 
 m.Sht .so eovet. it no.v seem a t "''" "'"^'' ^■'- ■' 
 
 Great and grievous as sbV ,'''•"■'■' ''^'"' '" ^-^ain. 
 ;° fin.l the reme.!y for t j '" "'' '[ ''^ P-"l'arIy hard 
 been alhKling were books "of d. °^' '^ "■'"^b I have 
 
 m..;rht destroy them w„e ^^e .tf""';',""'^-"''"^-^-^- "'« 
 forbid their open ci, .„ '^"^^ ""^ fo""<l them ; we might 
 
 »ord or deed. But the.- "e n ,'-'''"' "'"• "''>^-*ber of 
 
 tfost part; they are ^f t '"cl "'' "' ''"^^^ ^^ 'he 
 actually prohibited ; nor ean^ ^"' ""'* ^a™"' be 
 '« a sin in reading them T ' ' P''"""''^^ that there 
 f"f being published sL chea' ?h' "°' ""^ '"°^'^ "'-'^■cd 
 but yet these two eireum a ,et ! "' T^"'"^ ""'^--'■^ ; 
 ■"Jfrious. All that eTn b" 1 "^ " '"^'^"'"'"'-'^ 
 
 -•-'; that it is real and se, ol ", V'^ '° P°'"' °"' the 
 defects are most deplorable on ,. "" .^■"''^ ■''"^«. and its 
 promise; but the remedy fo°> "'"* "f the fairest 
 
 rather with each of y , Ltid/'if^' "'"• ^""■•^'ves. or 
 -If concerned. Th^t an un muT ^ Z '"' ^^ '^'^ '^ ^im- 
 
 -of the mind is most i-rrt^tTrd^t 
 
expcHence. And ;har:; IT,' ^^^r '"^t "^ 
 spintua! undcrstandhKr \^,, '^^ncction there can be no 
 
 spin-t.,a, .,„,io.:;; ; f; ; t:tt { ""'"^ "■'■"^""' 
 
 a study „f (iod's will the o can h .''.•^•"""'^■''tfe and 
 
 therefore childishnl " 1 , "" '''"■"""' '"■*•■ And 
 
 '.-."^t cvi,,s; andtr a ;:'.■ ;5^^ ~ ^ 
 
 of these defeets to its cause hi',," P'''-'^"l'--"« 
 seen, ,„ so.e to be \^;T::^ ^1 'T ""'' 
 your attention to it •,„,! t ''"'^ly it is well to call 
 
 »o.k-s of amt eme ; '''•■'"'"'' ^'^ "^^^ i" ^«"li"!,' 
 
 there is and ,™ be"" '" T7 ""'" '«"'f"' l"--^<-: 
 
 ^i..-r Cod ;r, l^Lh:^;«^;% 
 -1^;;; ::r -tit'-'beeTu'' -' :'--• ^' -^^^^^^^ 
 
 in ti,nes past or b ecaus, "" '"'^^ """^ ''' '«" f'-^^ly 
 
 it, tl,at Ln we : e tou,;',; ""'"" '^ '°° "'"^^"^ '° ^ear 
 
 r . • w^- cuc DOUnd most so fm.iKr 4. L 
 
 from ,t; because, -however lawful inK^"^ ! "''?'" 
 who can piactise it uitl,,, , ' ""^ '" "'hers 
 
 hindrance I,!' he av If ' '"^"'^' "■''^"=^^'- '^ '" "» an 
 
 spiritual i.npro:::ert Lhs ■:': ;re r' "-^^ '™'' 
 
 " ^^^ ^^^^ a positive sin. 
 
 ^"^i a^^ the lore Us schokirs neerl ^, 
 
 Tfie works of God, a/>ove, Mow within .c v 
 
 John Keble.-i792_,866. 
 
234 
 
 ti < h 
 
 :i'i 
 
 IHE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 XLVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 
 
 Thomas Hood. -1799-1845. 
 
 One more Unfortunate, 
 AVoary of breath, 
 Rashly imjjortunate. 
 Gone to her death ! 
 
 Take her up tenderly, 
 I^ift her with care ; 
 Fashion'd so slenderly, 
 Voung, and so fair ! 
 
 Look at her garments 
 Clinging like cerements ; 
 Whilst the wave constantly 
 I)ripsfrom her cloth -Mg; 
 Take her up instantly, 
 Loving, not loathing. 1- 
 
 Touch her not scornfully ; 
 Think of her mournfully, ' 
 Gently and humanly ; 
 Not of the stains of her,— 
 All that remains of her 
 Now is pure womanly. 
 
 Make no deep scrutiny 
 Into her mutiny 
 Rash and undutiful : 
 Past all dishonor, 
 Death has left on her 
 Only the beautiful. 
 
THE n RIDGE OF SIGHS. 
 
 Still, for all slips of hers, 
 One of Eve's family,— ' 
 Wipe those poor lips of hers 
 Oozing so clammily. 
 
 Loop up her tresses 
 Escaped from the comb,— 
 Her fair auburn tresses ; 
 Whilst wonderment guesses 
 Where was her home ? 
 
 Who was her father ? 
 
 Who was her mother ? 
 
 Had she a sister ? 
 
 Had she a brother ? 
 Or was there a dearer one 
 Still, and a nearer one 
 Vet, than all other ? 
 
 Alas I for the rarity 
 
 Of Christian charity 
 
 Under the sun I 
 
 Oh ! it was ]>itiful ! 
 Near a whole city full, 
 Home she had none. 
 
 Sisterly, brotherly, 
 
 Fatherly, motherly 
 
 Feelings had changed : 
 
 Love, by harsh evidence, 
 Thrown from its eminence j 
 Even God's providence 
 Seeming estranged. 
 
 Where the lamps quiver 
 So far in the river. 
 
 235 
 
 '1 
 
236 
 
 iiH 
 
 m. 
 
 ui 
 
 !:! 
 
 77//: WG/f SCHOOL READER, 
 With many a light 
 Krom window and casement 
 iMom garret to basement 
 
 S'le stood, with amazement, 
 
 Houseless by night. 
 
 'I'le bleak wind of March 
 
 Made her tremble and shiver- 
 iiiit not the dark arch, ' 
 
 <>r the black flowing river • 
 
 Mad from life's history, 
 
 (ilad to death's mystery, 
 ^wift to be huri'd— 
 
 Anywhere, anywhere 
 Out of the world ! 
 
 In she plunged boldly,— 
 No matter how coldly 
 
 The dark river ran, 
 
 Over tiie brink of it, 
 
 Picture it,--think of 'it, 
 Dissolute Man ' 
 
 Lave in it, drink of it. 
 Then, if you can ! 
 
 Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with car e ; 
 Fashion'd so slenderly, 
 Young, and so fair ! 
 
 Ere her limbs frigidly 
 
 Stiflen too rigidly. 
 
 Decently,— kindly,— 
 Smooth and compose them • 
 And her eyes, close them, ' 
 Stanng so blindly I 
 
 l«4 
 
yl J^AA^EATAL ODE TO MV ^0,y. 
 dreadfully staring 
 '''trough nuKldy in,,,urity, 
 As when with the daring 
 
 I-ast look of despairing 
 l''\\\\ on futurity. 
 
 IVrishing gloomily, 
 
 SlHirr'd by contumely, 
 
 Cold inhumanity, 
 
 Hurning'insanity, 
 
 Into her rest. 
 
 Cross her hands humhiy, 
 As \{ i>raying dumbly, 
 Over her breast ! 
 
 Owning her weakness, 
 Her evil behavior, 
 And leaving, with meekness, 
 Her sins to her Saviour ! 
 
 ^^7' 
 
 m 
 
 XLVII. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON, 
 
 AGED Ti.RKK VE.vks AND KIVE MONTHS. 
 
 Thomas Hood, 
 
 Thou happy, happy elf I 
 (But stop -first let me kiss away that tear)- 
 
 Ihoutmy image of myself ! 
 (My love, he's poking peas into his ^ar ') 
 
 1 hou merry, laughing sprite ! 
 
 \vith spirits feather-light 
 UntouchV! by sorrow, and unso'ild by sin- 
 (Cood heavens! the child is swallowmg a pin !) 
 
238 
 
 TNE WUH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ;)■. . 
 
 Thou little tricksy Puck ! 
 
 W.h ant,,- toys so funnily bc-sturk 
 '''K'lt as the sinmnji \nn\ fh-u . ' . 
 
 (The do„r I the d„'; h. "IT , ' "''- 
 
 (Why, Jane, hell .se. his pinafore a-f,re ■) 
 '•»" "ip of mirth and joy I 
 
 i here goes my ink i) * ' ' 
 
 ■'■';"" <^hernh_but of earth ; 
 Ft. playfellow for Lay,,, by n,oonl,gh pale 
 
 In harmless sport and „,irth 
 (' ha. do« Will hie, him if hep,,,, ;,„,,) 
 
 From ev ;i; ::r in T-'^'-^ ^"'-""^ "oney 
 y "lossom in the world that blows 
 
 (AnotherS:,ir;^':r"™-"-- 
 
 Thy father., ;?Se\:„:C,:r"°--'> 
 (Hell break the mirror with fh« .i.- ■ 
 With pure heart newly ,,"'„, f '^'^'T"*'""''"' 
 
 (Where did ,, V '^, "'" ^•'"'"•'^'^ »"»'- 
 I 'nere did he learn that squint?) 
 
 rH.'ll h'^''™/"""'' ''"""=«'■<= dove ! 
 
 (He II have that Jug oir with another shove.) 
 Dear nurshng of the hymeneal nest. ■^ 
 A e those torn elothes his best?) 
 fH.'li :'"i^ ^P"°™« °f man ! 
 
 'w?:-hrbe::t"'''^''^-^''»^'» '''-') 
 
 (He-sVotak^r''"""^''^™'"^''^-- 
 Thou enviable bein^ ^ 
 
 '°p^rn:Sr'^^'^'"-^^--ng. 
 
 My elfin John 1 ' 
 
 vr -^ 
 
^METAPHYSICS. 
 Toss the light hall-hestridc the stirk- 
 I knew so many cakes would make him sick I) 
 Vyuh fancies buoyant as the thistlc-d<nvn ^ 
 
 Iromptm, the face grotesc,ue, and antic brisk. 
 
 With many a lamb-hke frisk 
 (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown !) 
 
 Thou pretty opening rose ' 
 (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose ') 
 Balmy, and breathing music like the South '^ 
 (He really brings my heart into my mouth !) 
 Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,-- 
 (I wish that window had an iron bar ) 
 Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,- 
 
 (I tell you what, my love, 
 I cannot write, unless he's sent above !) 
 
 3.19 
 
 XLVIII. METAPHYSICS. 
 
 Thomas Oiandler Haliburton.--i796-i86s. 
 i'nmi Traits of American Humor. 
 
 leal ngt; Td';:'' ,:; h""'"'"' "'■* "'>'^'' ^-"'f 
 
 o lie usea to stuff his 'ermons and astound hk 
 learned hearers, the bumpkins. They never rinlr^ 
 that it was all true, but were apt toTay w th the^M 
 woman in Mo|;Arp- « tt^ . , f ^"^ °'<^ 
 
 , '■'-^^- -^-e speaks so well that r Hr^n'f 
 
 understand him a bit." °" ^ 
 

 f ivB 
 
 I ", 
 
 f si 
 
 I I 
 
 f I 
 
 'Ij .h 
 
 •I ■ 
 R.I 
 
 ffi 
 
 rjf£ HIGH SCHOOL /DEADER. 
 
 making his mctarhysics an 4: ^L^"""' ""^'"^'y '" 
 There was my grandfather Unde iT '' P^^^^^ing.- 
 S'-eatest hand at raising onio^sTn ^' "'''° ""^^ "^e 
 
 but •■ not knowing met^pC c had'o""';' '"' '="""'^>'' 
 reason of his not bein^^sari ■ T ™''°" °'^"^'^ "•"'= 
 
 Titterwell, who could knit ,M 7 "' ^"^^ ^eturah 
 but could notsyllogL m' n"^':/' "'''^'^ ^" P"-est;' 
 that drove the oxen Indw Th^n °"^ '''"''' ■"- 
 schoolmaster, who had drlned .''"■' ""-' *""'=' 
 a">1 get a drink of cider So A "'"''" '"'^ '^"^'^^^ 
 sion, and my grandfather r^T^ "'■" ""^" discus- 
 the Doctor Lfd i tXeh ' h "''?, "°"^'"^ "^ '' ' ""' 
 
 "P-y, Doctor," said Un 0'^^^^ T'" 
 about metaphysics • I hav,. ^r/ u ■; ' "'= '^"mething 
 but never for my lif^ 'ouH fi ^" ^'^'"^ °^ '^at science! 
 
 ^ " Metaphysic^.. 'stidThe Sr"' .'L"?' " -^•" 
 straction." J-'octor. is the science of ab- 
 
 and sublime, a little difficult Jl"""'."' "'™' P™''"""'^ 
 '^"ect or an unschooled capac'^^f": ^ ' ~"""°" -" 
 less important on that accoZ ^ n r ""' ''"' "°' ">« 
 "What does it teach?" rrV",' ''^'"^ beings." 
 
 . ",!' '-s not appuld tLut to 't': f °°'"'^^'^^- 
 •"g" a..swered the Doctor "a, ^ I ""'■'"'"" °f "^ach- 
 
 i^oi exampIP whether this e^irfl. 
 said the Doctor, ^fvin.. . u^l '^^ °" ^'^'^^ ^vc tread." 
 -o-n^...avysiam:. on the floor, an^ 
 
d at my 
 Acuity in 
 caching-." 
 was the 
 country, 
 the true 
 Keturah 
 possest," 
 rcd man 
 district 
 fingers 
 discus- 
 it; but 
 
 lethingr 
 cience, 
 
 ofab- 
 
 Tim. 
 found 
 )n in- 
 3t the 
 
 ?ach- 
 
 and 
 
 they 
 
 Hm, 
 
 ad/' 
 
 METAPHYSICS. 
 
 241 
 settmg his foot on the cat's tafl « , u .u 
 
 said m;y;:Sef ^"""'^^^"-^ ^°"-^"-- - -le," 
 
 of :fSte^'" ^'^^^ ">^ --— te, .. to the holders 
 
 ;; Now the earth," continued the Doctor, " „,ay exist " 
 Why, who ever doubted that?" asked UncfeT 
 
 whde the Doctor went on • ^ Martin," 
 
 •t does not exit Thf ca e ^ 0?'""'"^'::^ "' ''^"'«'' *-' 
 ^^^ And how. asked UncieTi.. .,-3 an this to be found 
 thJc^oc^f "' ''"™ '° "'^ «-' P"---Ples," answered, 
 thj tj^etdSf^f'^^-'''' ""'- .-s nothing e,„a, to 
 
 MZhi-s ta^^ V d>",^.ir [t'T' T"^ "" '■" 
 we sha;i find out whether th!^ ,? f°""datio„, that 
 
 we dig to the bottltfTh t thf„;f t r T ■ '"'• " 
 -why then we are sure of it R . v '^ ""•= foundation 
 tion, it is clear that hevvor h ^^ h "" ''"'' "° '"°""<'a- 
 other words, that it dor'ot L" ^^ "P-,,""?'"^' '"' "' 
 stands to reason—" ''" ' *erefore, it 
 
 " 1 beg your pardon," interruoted th„ r^ 
 youtotaiiy... stake .eMusedrwl^:--'-: 
 
242 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 m 
 
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 III-: 
 
 IB I > I .< 
 
 m \ 
 
 '•^Trchlm' T"''"^ ^"^ Profoun.lest cogitation and re- 
 ■search ,„,o the nature of. things. That is the way in 
 «h,ch „c..ay ascertain whether things are. or whe^t: 
 
 ^'But if a man can'f beheve his eyes," said Uncle Tim 
 what signifies talking about it ?" ' 
 
 "Our eyes," said the Doctor, "are nothing at all but 
 llic mlcts of sensation, and when we see a xlZ 1 
 are aware of is, that we have a sensatio , of ', ' Z 
 not a„are that the thing exists. We are sure of nothh g 
 that wc sec with our eyes." ""tiling 
 
 ;; Not without spectacles," said Aunt Judy. 
 1 iato, for instance, maintains that the sensitinn of 
 ZiefC/r '''■"^•'-" ^>' ^ P-P-ual "^succe:': c 
 
 X ' tol .'„"'■ •-"""'-■f'--"^^. =^"-"-"g off from the 
 ouject to the organ of sensation. Descartes ton I, 
 
 exphuned the matter upon the principle of wSligig; ""'^ 
 
 •• Alod d r "■"'■■'! ""-^^ • " ''•^'^•^'' '■- Schoohnalter. 
 
 A good deal may be said on both sides" ronllnM fl 
 Doctor .. though the ablest heads are foltn-^et" 
 
 I" common cases," said Uncle Tim, " those who utter 
 nonsense are considered blockheads " 
 
 diZu."' '"'••'^''''^^--" --^ '■'= Doctor, " tl,e case is 
 
 " Now all this is hocns-pocu.s to me " said A„nf T, i 
 suspending her knitting-work, and scratd J^^hertri ti 
 w. h one of the needles, " I don't understa-td Ibrmore 
 of the busmess than I did at first " 
 
 u:drTin""':ot:u '^v tr'"^ ^ 't-' p'-"^^^^"^'' -"■ 
 
 yarn ofmetapS' ""^ * """ "''" '^'^'"""^ " '""^ 
 scilll''"'^'"' ''' ""' ^'""'■^ ^"■■■^ e"^-^ -' ■- favorite 
 
^f^^TAPHYSlCS. 
 
 the bogf„nina„f^i„,„,„°"-'' '^"' ^''hat then? Doubt is 
 
 " No doubt of that " « • i 
 poke the fire, "a„d'when7„T"f'''^^''''"^'-"'"«to 
 <lo"bti„sf, what does he b"^",?" '^.f, ^'°' ^''™"&'^ his 
 ■ Physical way?- ^'" '" "^"'W "P in the meta- 
 
 said^hTbocto?'"' ^"^ '"-^"'^ ^""'^fhing for granted." 
 
 "•Trthf:!,rT""^°^^°'"s'<'-^k?" 
 
 IIS tne only thing he can rlr." i- , 
 ■^fter a pause, and rubWnJlS fn , ? "'' ''^'^ I^°«o^ 
 altogether satisfied tha hi fn 7 '"'' ^'^ "" '"^ "'•''^ "ot 
 % grandfather might fn J "'"'7. ^^^ =» -"d one. 
 
 question, but he poked the ;:earf.r "'"^ ^""'^er 
 :; Metaphysics, to spea^ett,:!!!!.'™^"™'- 
 
 v.. Aact^Z:;! Krt";;-- - >'"•". .-t <Wn to 
 " 'Tis the considerati^" T "'"lerstand it." 
 
 spirit and essence ofTh„"s° '"'"^'--"•'>-. o-" the mere 
 snuff, "now'rTe'fintot.'^""' •'"''^' '"'^'"!? ^ Pi"eh of 
 
 be considered sepi;ate ■ ^"'■POfeal/ty. which may 
 
 : What man ?"a.sked Uncle Tim 
 Wily, any man • Miln^i.; ^u 
 
 -..or hi. as Ma'laS':!;tr.. «:-?"' ^ ™- 
 I ha ,s true," .said Malachi " fl .x ^' ^°''P°'-«^al." 
 
 militia they mad 
 
 hi, " for when \ 
 
 «.og7oTh^ z;:m::.f -'''-"''' -po-unj 
 
 was in the 
 I carried 
 
244 
 
 
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 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ^^:::^7T'- ^^^ ^^^^^^- -"^-a. 
 
 " An^ « iocdJity, the essence of duration— » 
 
 a different essence" ' ^' ''''"'^'^ ' '"'=«" '^ ^""e 
 
 or:i::;;sr;«-r:ef'"'^^'^--^-— 
 
 Juiiy""" ' "" '"' '■" "^"^ ''"^ -gain." rejoined Aunt 
 the'attt"?'"' ""' "■''^■'"^^ °f '''■■"g-^ ' ™-n thing, in 
 
 " Why, It becomes an abstraction." 
 eaittnlLt::!?;.: ■^^■" ^-^ ^■"" ^ " ^- what on 
 
 --X.JH. neither iar,r:::t:,t—^^^^^ 
 
 ScL^ol« ' " "^^ '°"^ -^ *°rt of itP" asked the 
 
 r Abstraction," rephed the Doctor, 
 pitchfr!!!^^ '■""^"^^'" ■-'" «^'-h.-, "that . had a 
 
 °nebutapitchror.o:;:;t™-r:>'p^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 tenahty-these are things in the abstraa" "" 
 
 i^ray, said Unc e Tim " havp f h^.-« k 
 .things discovered ?" '^ ^'"" "^^">' ^"^h 
 
METAPHYSICS. 
 
 vKsible. animate or inanimate ; whethcrtt^f "' '"■ 
 or the ear- can hear or th^ n„ ™ctner the eye can see, 
 
 touch ; finally, whateve Lists' o'" '"""' °' ''"' ""^"'^ 
 
 =;;:n:^^-----::^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 orrar:;-ir:7t';?--''^-°--e 
 
 ca% ort r^S^f ^°'=^-- "-"-*red metaphysi- 
 
 eidolon, and fantastical semblance ^fth" ""'" ''''^' 
 quadruped. It has a sh=.l tu ""^ P*"^ "^ a 
 
 no color at al for its IZesT T ""' '"'''''"'''' ^^ 
 imagination o^ such As t ,rcks thT" '°""'^'""' °^ 
 also deficient in th. -j , *'' Positive, so is it 
 
 animals in ts t ibe for Th \ "^"^ "^^ "' ^" '^e 
 
 endurance nei her LI ' "° '°'^°'"°«°". 'ability, or 
 
 cud, nor performs a V otr'T ^'^^ "i"^' chews the 
 beast, but I a mZ ratfon'f TT" "' "^^ ''--^ 
 
 rrea. of the ^^r..; ^T^Z^^T^^^-'^: 
 imagination." ^ conceit of the 
 
 " Pshaw !« exclaimed Aunt Judy Mil fh 
 physics under the sun woi.Mn'f t "^ '^^^a- 
 
 " That's a fact," saw Unci: C ^ '^°""'^ °^ ^"«- '" 
 
 TAere is no great and no small 
 To the Soul that maketh all.- 
 
 And where it rotM^fh ^// ^j, • 
 
 . " -"^ --'"■, (^^i t rungs are : . 
 
 •And It Cometh everywhere. 
 
 II Jr 
 
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 246 
 
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 r//E HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 XLIX. INDIAN SUMMER.* 
 
 SAMUKL LoVKR.— 1797.1868. 
 
 When summer's verdant beauty flics 
 And autumn glows with richer dyes, ' 
 A softer charm beyond them h"es-— ' 
 
 It is the Indian summer. 
 Ere winter's snows and winber s breeze 
 Bereave of beauty all the trees, 
 The balmy si)ring renewal sees 
 
 In the sweet Indian summer. 
 
 And thus, dear love, if early years 
 Have drown-d the germ of joy in tears, 
 A later gleam of h( pe api)ears— 
 
 Just like the Indian summer : 
 And ere the snows of age descend, 
 O trust me, dear one, changeless friend 
 Our fallmg years may brightly end- 
 Just hke the Indian summer. 
 
 I. TO HELEN, t 
 
 July 7, 1839. 
 
 WiNTHROP MacKWORTH PRAED.-1802.1839. 
 
 Dearest, I did not dream, four years ago 
 When through your veil I saw your bright tear shine 
 
 Caught your clear whisper, exquisitely lovv 
 And felt your soft hand tremble into mine. 
 
 stranger u. A„.er!!:r;;^.l^^: .^J^^,^^^ ^"^^'"" "^ ^'^ >-- '^^^^ « 
 + Praed died on the X5th of July ' '"^ '^""^' ^'^'^™^'^ '"c-LovEK. 
 
HORA THIS. 
 Tha, in .ohrief-so very brief a. space, 
 
 Nnr fK- . "^qucnt toil, and constant cxre^ 
 
 I o e „s poor frame, by sicknes., sore l.esM 
 TU. da,ly ,en<la„ce on the fra,.i„„.s cha ' 
 
 The n,gh.ly vigil by the feverish bed. ' 
 
 Vet no. unwelcom-d doth this morn arise 
 
 «n».c.,ess,asinhearh;:s;::r;^^::r- 
 
 247 
 
 I-I- HORATIUS.-* 
 
 Lord MACAULAv.-x800.1859 
 
 'rHruh:r.ho'stt;r^''^^'"^-'^-'^'-™- 
 
 And bade his -ssengers ride tth, ^s :„r 'T ''■^^' 
 To summon his array. ""'^ ''^"'' ■'^^^uth 
 
 [and north, 
 
 A":\r:drrd\:t::ti\-'rr"- * -• 
 
 ^^^^orsena^Qusmm ,s on u,e march for Rome. 
 
Il'i 
 
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 248 
 
 r///-: HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 The horscn.cn and ihe footmen are pouring in amain 
 om many a stately market-place ; from many aTt^i.fuI plain • 
 
 No nlor f ; r'' '""f °" "^ "«' "^ P-Pie Apennin^j 
 
 "led In 1 , h "?• "'"'^ '^""'^ *'' '■"■f^'^ed hold 
 1 cd In the 1 an<l.s o( giants for godlike kings of old • 
 J rom seag,rt I'opulonia, whose sentinels descry 
 From"thr n"""]' ■""■'"•^'"-'"P^ f""«™g the southern sky ; 
 
 Hh"e r,^ ;;: T "'■ '''■^"- ''"^■'" °f "^^ »-tern wave . 
 "here r,de Massihas tnremes heavy with fair-hair'd slaves • 
 
 Krou, where'cortona lifts to heaven her diadem of towera. 
 ■lall arc .^,e oaks whose acorns drop in dark Auser's rill • 
 
 L n«atcl d along Cluunmus grazes the nulk-whi.e steer ■ 
 I- ntarm d the waterfowl may dip in the Volsmian mere' 
 re harvests of Arrctium, this year, old UK-n sh 1 a" 
 Tius^ycar.young hoys in Umhro shall p,u„«e theTugghng 
 
 Round tt' T 1 ''""'■'' "^'^ '■'''' "'^ ""'^' =h^" foam 
 Round the ,W,,te feet of laughing girls whose .ires have march'd 
 
 There be thirty chosen prophets, the wisest of the land 
 
 Who aiway by .Lars Porsena both morn and evening stand ■ 
 Even,, a „ ,„^ ^^^^ even „g s. nd . 
 
 A:d:wt^rv:i:?L°T!;:;\?''^.^™f;--^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -o-h, go forth, U^riStX^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
Hon A TIUS. 
 f.o, and ret„rn in glory to Clusium s royal dome ■ 
 And hang round Nurscia's aUars .he goLn sWelds of Rome ■■ 
 
 Theroi^rr^o^SoZTrr""^- 
 
 i or all the Ltrusc.in arm es wcrt- r^n,r^.^ k l , • 
 
 And n,a„y a han.h'd Ro^anr^ry 'r ;,'; .^'^^• 
 And w,.h a n,igh.y following ,o join .he mus.! -a V 
 1 he 1 usculan Mamilius, prinee of .he La.ian name 
 
 Bu. by the yellow Tiber was ...mul. and affrigh. ■ 
 Now from the roek Tarpeian, could .he wan burghers snv 
 
 T^:=;i::dTw^=h~r^^^^^^^^ 
 
 Nor house, nor fence, no, dovec^eTncJne" ■::."-:.? 
 Verbenna down ,„ Os.ia ha.h was.ed all .he nbl: ''""^• 
 
 As.ur ha.h s.orm'd Janiculum, and .l.rsru.' gTa^ds 
 
 are slain. 
 
 
' i I 
 
 250 
 
 r 
 
 7'///- ///(,// SCf/OO/, 
 
 ^'AV//Vt7i'. 
 
 '•■-"-'" "V -s c^: ,'"•"• ""™ "-' ■" -vs was ,„,, 
 
 I" l.a»lc. they .-,>,lo,l u„ ' '°"' "•^' '■•'"'^■'■» ■■'" ; 
 
 Slu.rt time was there ve u-.-ll . '<'Vcr-(.atc ; 
 
 Out spake the ConsJl rou^ "^^^ ^^1' T '"""^ '"■ ^'^^'^'^• 
 down ; ^ • ' '^^ '^•■'f^K^' '"u-st straighi go 
 
 And louder still and s„H , "hlrUv,,,,! e,„„e; 
 
 ing cloud! '■' '""'• '"'" """-"-'I' 'l".^' roll- 
 
 Is heard .„e .ru„,pet, war-note „r„ud, the ,ra™„n„,, „„, ,„ 
 
 Th^> long array of ,,eln'ee!' n' ' T 1 1''"'' "'"'f '"'"' "«'"' 
 And plahdy and more nl-„nl '' '■"■">' "^ ■'^P<-'.ir,s. 
 
 Now „,„h.^.e .eX £;:!:;:: '"«'™™--*-' '-. 
 
 Hut the banner of nroud AT- "^ '"<-'™ f^'"- "">•■» ■'■Inne ; 
 ^^e.errorof,heCl^;rtr;o^tl..:;''™-"- 
 
 %r:;s ::sXo^;;rr "■"■«'■' ''-'-^^ 
 
 There Cdnius of Arret.um ont-T' ""* ""'''^ '■"™»»- 
 
 And Asturof the u.:^z^,^-::::\;^i ' 
 
 may wield ^ "^^ '^^'^"^1 none else 
 
 't;:::;T;iir"«""'-'^''-^^-'-"-on,the 
 
 p [hold 
 
 -itL HI ,..-, jvoiy car. 
 
.'irid 
 
 ffORArius. 
 
 ""t when .l,c. fa.. „f s« 'wt' ""' ' "''• ''^■"' "^ »'»•"- 
 A yell tha, ren. ,„. nrma^n^lrriu;'''? "" '"■^• 
 
 An.1 ,f .hey once „Twi .h tid ■ "''V'"'^ """" ^ 
 town ?" ''"''««' "l"' I'OiJc to save the 
 
 Then out spake brave Hnminc .u r, 
 
 I () save them from flxlse Sextn. f hnf ^^' 
 
 Hewdcn the ^^^^1^^:^::^ 
 I, w,th two more to help me willhol 1 n r ^ ^''' '"^^' 
 l;^ yon strait path a thoLn^:;";:^/^:^^^^^^^^ 
 Now who will stand on either hanrl n . , ^' ^^ ''''■^^• 
 me ?" ^^ ' ^^"'^' ^"^ ^^'^^P the bridge with 
 
 Then out spake Snurius I nrfinc • o d 
 «' T o - -11 " l^^f^'us i.artius ; a Ramnian proud wi<; h^ . 
 i-o, 1 will stand at thv ridit hnnrl o i i ^ ' 
 
 thee." ^ ^ ^''"'^' ^"^ ^^'^'P the bridge with 
 
 And out spake strong Herminiiis • nf ^rv i , 
 
 " I will abide on thy left'd nd V k'"k^''' "'^ ^^ = 
 
 y 'eft side, und keep the bridge with thee." 
 
 " Horatius," quoth the Consul " -,<, th^,, 
 And straight aK.ins. ^hat "^ ! °" f'^'"''' "^'^ '^^ '^ be." 
 
 Three, ^ ^ ''' '"'"^ ^^^^^ ^^"^ the dauntless 
 
 ' f 
 
2S2 
 
 THE /ffiur r,c/fnnL readeh. 
 
 ^.'^ 
 
 u 
 
 Then none was for a T' 1 '"^';,'" "'^^ '"•"<= *■>>'■•' "fold. 
 
 the Kreat : ' ' ""'' ">« POor man lovd 
 
 'I'hcn lands were fairly iiortionVl • ,i 
 The Ron,ans were like I m ^ ' ""■'Vl'"'''' "'"^ ^iriy sold : 
 
 And the Tr,K , ■"■'■ ''•"^■"'' "••'n » foe, 
 
 Ana the Iribunes beard ti:e hidi -in,! .h. i- T 
 
 low. . *■ ' ""'' "'e ''•■"her.s grind the 
 
 As we wax ho. in faction, in battle we wax cold • 
 "Herefore„,enn«htnot a. the, fon,Ht,nd,;l. ,.,,„,„„ 
 
 """': ''" ■'■^^^ "- •■«"-'"« .Heir harnes., on their 
 
 -.oten.:;;::-:-::-::::^-^^^^ 
 
 Four hundred trumpets sounded a peal orwarliki'l''^" '"*'" 
 As that great host, wi,h measured t^'d „H ^ '^ 
 
 ■ind ensigns spread ' '' '''^"' advanced, 
 
 """'''i::' Tl!;" ''^ '"^«^-^ ^^^^' '••■'-- -od the daum- 
 
 a": r^srut^irgtf;::^ T'" -- ^^ -'• 
 
 "ley sprang, their swords they drev and )ift«^ ^ u 
 To win the narrow way • ., , "^d high 
 
 Aunus from green Tifermim, lord of the Hi!rof v"^'' '"'' "'" 
 
 And Seius, Whose eigh.hun.eds;a'v::i^l1:r.;r„,„,.^ 
 
^iO A' A 77 us. 
 
 girt ^iehtv!:';, """'" """■"■^ '™" "- «-y ""« where. 
 The fortress of Ne,u,„um lowers o'er the ,„,e waves of n.r 
 
 And the ,;roud Un.brun'.s g.idcd anm ,■ ' '■ , 
 
 dust, /r^ '•"'"' '" "'<: I'loody 
 
 Then Ocnus of Fnlerii n.sh'd op -he Rom.,n Th 
 Anu .ausulus of Urgo, the rover of .h^ ! " ' '"^ '' 
 And Aruns of Volsinium, who slew the ! ,', wild bo, 
 
 'He«re.wdd hoar th. had his den a.ri>:':id::^eosa.s 
 And wasted fields, and slaugh,er.d„,en,a,on,A,bi„ia.s shore 
 
 No more Cami)ania's hinds shill fl,- f^ 
 Thy thrice accursed saH " ' '" ^'"'^^ '"^ ^'^^^^"'^ ^'^en 
 
 [tliey spy. 
 
 wield. ^'^"^ ^'^""-^^ "^"e but he can 
 
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254 
 
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 7 HE mCH SCmCL READER. 
 
 VA 
 
 And thrice and four S e "t !'""'^."--'d '- "eel, 
 
 the steel. ^^ '^ "'""'"' ^'^ he wrench'd out 
 
 " ^t:r;" '^ """■ " '"^ -'»-. f- Kuests, that waits you 
 What „oh,eLucu„oco.„es next to taste our Ron, ...eheerp... 
 
 The?e,ac./::reit;:r:st'r*^'''»'«'-""^™n. 
 
 for all Etruria's noblest we°erouLr,; "T ?' '"'''"^ '"^^ ' 
 Bu' all Etruria's noblest Si " '''"^^• 
 
 On the earth the hln„V ''^'" ""'' '» see 
 
 Three ' '' "°'"'^ '=°''^-^. "' "« Path the dauntless 
 
 Fi^" .<i 
 
MORA TI us. 
 
 a hare, """^^'^'^^^ "^^^^^ the woods to start 
 
 Come to the mouth of the dirMo- u 
 
 Lies amidst bones and b,oo7 "'' '"'"'""^ ^°-' '^ ^^rce 
 >vas none who would be foremost" tn l ^ . f°^^ ^ear 
 
 ^"l Jhose behind cried ^^^^Zrt' ^u ^'"^^ ^^-^ : 
 "Back!'' -forward! and those before cried 
 
 "i« loud. "'^*'^' '^"d they gave him greet- 
 
 " No vv welcome, welcome q«. <. . 
 
 VVhy dos. ,hou slay, anZ'^'::; ^r T*""^ '° '"^ "-e .■ 
 Thnce look'd he at tl,e cit • T^ ^ ' '"' ""^ ™d '» Rome " 
 
 But meamvhile -.xe wn , """«' J "scans lay. 
 
 And no. the t. :;eC:::t^" ™r^""^ ^-n P"ed; 
 ;:Come back, con,t baT^H^S-t"" *'= "^"'""^ "^o- 
 
 ' B^ck, Lartius ! back, Hern, 1" , u'^t "'"'' "'^ ''"'^ers all. 
 Back darted Spuriu., Uniu" Z ' "" "'^ ™'n fail .." 
 
 And, as they passy, beneath *."'"' "'"^'^ ''«^'< ■• 
 
 crack. ''™"* ">e,r feet they felt the timbers 
 
 --"tr::rfra[rn:'r™''----e ■ 
 
 alone, they would have cross'd once 
 
 Ana.tVr.^:;fr.:;r7- every loosen, beam, 
 
 '^"^ ^' lung shout of triumnh . - r ° '^tlnvart iDe stream • 
 
256 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 
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 And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein 
 Ihe fur,ous river struggled hard, and toss'd his tawny mane 
 And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free 
 And whirling down, in fierce career, battlement, and pl'ank, and 
 Kush d headlong to the sea. • r j 
 
 Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind • 
 1 hnce thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind 
 Down with him !" cried false Sextu., with a smile on his pale 
 face. ' 
 
 "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our 
 grace." 
 
 Round turn'd he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see • 
 Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus nought spake he • 
 But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home • 
 And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of 
 Rome. 
 
 " O Tiber ! father Tiber ! to whom the Romans pray, 
 A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in cJiarge this day '" 
 So he spake, and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side 
 And with his harness on his back plunged headlong in the tide.' 
 
 No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank ; 
 
 But friends and foes in dumb surprise, with parted line and 
 
 Stood gazing where he sank ; [straining eyes. 
 
 And when above the surges they saw his crest appear. 
 All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, and even the ranks of 
 
 Could scarce forbear to cheer. r'l'n^rnn,. 
 
 But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain 
 And fast his blood was flowing, and he was sore in pain. 
 And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows : 
 And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose. 
 Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, 
 Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing-place • 
 But his hmbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within 
 And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin. 
 
 1 
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HO RATI us. 
 
 257 
 
 "Curse^^on^him... quoth false Sex.us; "win not the vUla.n 
 But forjhis stay, ere close of day „e should have sack'd the 
 
 " Tsho:': ""^ '" "■""' '"^ ''°^^™^' "^"-^ ''™8 h.m safe ' 
 For such a galk )t feat of arms was never seen before » 
 And now he feels the botton, ; now on dry cTr.ht stands • 
 Now round him throng the Fathers to pre!,, his rorv hTnt' ' 
 And now, with shouts and clapping, and' noL ^f'^'e '' " t ud 
 He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous cro^d: 
 
 Is'I,T ""? °' "' '°"-''"'^' '"^ ^-^^ °f P-Wic right. 
 
 As much as two strong oxen could plough from morn till kight • 
 
 And they made a molten image, and set it up on high 
 
 And there ,t stands unto this day to witness if I lie 
 
 It stands m the Comitium, plain for all folk Co see '; 
 
 Horattus m h>s harness, halting upon one knee : 
 
 And underneath is written, in letters all of gold 
 
 How vahamly he kept the bridge in the brave <lays of old. 
 
 And still his name sounds stirring unto the men of Rome 
 
 As 'he^^u-Pet-blast that cries to them to charge the vj;cian 
 
 And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as bold 
 As his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old 
 
 And 1^ "'f ",°' ""■"'"• *''^" "'^ ^°" "orth-winds blow, 
 And the long howhng of the wolves is heard amidst the snoi- 
 
 And the good logs of Algidus roar louder yet within : 
 When the oWest cask is open'd, and the largest lamp is lit , 
 When the chestnuts glow in the embers, and the kid turn on 
 the spit ; 
 
 When young and old in circle around the firebrands close • 
 
 bows ^'"' ''''' ^^^'""^ ^'''^^^'' ^"""^ ^^^ ^^"^^ ^'^ '^^P'""^ 
 Q 
 
 
2S8 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 When the goodman mends his armor, and trims his helmet's 
 plume ; 
 
 When the goodwife's shuttle merrily goes flashing through the 
 
 loom ; 
 With weeping and with laughter still is the story told, 
 How well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old. 
 
 h 
 
 ! I?l 
 
 « » 
 
 m 
 
 LII. THE RAVEN. 
 
 Edcar Allan Poe.— 1809-1849. 
 
 Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary, 
 Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,— 
 While I nodded, nea.ly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
 As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door. 
 " 'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-door,— 
 Only this, and nothing more." 
 
 Ah ! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, 
 And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor 
 Eagerly I wish'd th morrow : vainly I had sought to borrow 
 From my books surcease ' f ;orrow,— sorrow for the lost Lenore; 
 For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,' 
 Nameless here forevermore. 
 
 And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
 Thrill'd me— fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; 
 So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating^ 
 " Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door,~ 
 Some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber-door; ' 
 This it is, and nothing mere." 
 
 Presently my soul grew stronger : hesitating then no longer, 
 "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 
 
THE RA VEN. 
 
 259 
 
 But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
 And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door 
 Ihat I scarce was sure I heard you";_here I open'd wide the 
 door ; — 
 
 Darkness there, and nothing more. 
 
 Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering 
 fearing, °' 
 
 Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream 
 before ; 
 
 But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token 
 And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word 
 Lenore ?" 
 
 This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word "Le- 
 nore !" 
 
 Merely this, and nothing more. 
 
 Back into the chamber turning, all my soul ^^^thin me burning 
 Soon agam I heard a tapping, something louder than before 
 
 Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice • 
 Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this my; ery explore,— ' 
 Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore :— 
 'Tis the wind, and nothing more." 
 
 Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter 
 In there stepp'd a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore '' 
 Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopp'd or stay'd 
 he, ^ 
 
 But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-door- 
 Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber-door;-' 
 Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more. 
 
 Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 
 By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 
 " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I e^^jj u\^^ 
 sure no craven, 
 
 
 %^ 
 
 
26o 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOr. REA!>ER. 
 
 \\ 
 
 \\ 
 
 ll 
 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^ i^ 
 
 
 t; 
 
 V 
 
 J, i| 
 
 
 ^ 1 
 
 '"■'''''■''lil'.rf ""' ■''"'' """""' '^•■'™"' "■'"''"■"■•« fr'"" "'<•■ Nightly 
 
 Tell ,„. wh:„ ,hy |„„,ly name i.s „„ the Nighfs IMu,,,,,!.,, .|,„re." 
 <,>ii<)lli the Raven, "Ncvcrmiiro." 
 
 M.uh I ,„arvclr<l ihi.s „„gainly fowl ,o hear ,lis.:,„„se so plainly 
 l.""Kh ,.., answer liule nieaning, li„le relevancy hore • ^' 
 W.r we can not help agreeinw that no living l,„n,an heing 
 ■.ver ye, was hlessVl with seeing bird above his ehan,l,er.,loor,_ 
 
 B.rd or l,eas, upon the senlp,„re<l bns, above his ,ha„,ber.cloor 
 *\ 1th such name as " Nevermore." ' 
 
 But the Kaven silting I, .„.,|y on that |.laeicl b„s,. sp^ke only 
 I a one wor,l, as ,f his soul in ,|,a, one wor.l he ,li,l outpour. 
 N 1 n,g tur, er then he uM.vd, „,„ , ,,,„,„ ,|,^.„ ,,^, „,,^|^,^,_, 
 
 I 'II M areely nK.re than n.uttercl, "Other friends have flown 
 nefore : 
 
 On the morrow /.. will leave me, as my hopes have flown before " 
 Ihen the bird said, "Nevermore." 
 
 Stj.rtk.i at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
 Can^h hon. .some unhappy master, whon, unmerciful Disaster 
 
 Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore, 
 Of—' Never— Nevermore.' " 
 
 Hut the FJaven .still beguiling all my sad .soul into .smiling, 
 Straight I whcel'd a cusiiion-d seat in front of bird, and bust 
 and door ; ' 
 
 Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself u, linking 
 KancT unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- 
 ^^ hat th,s grnn, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ommous bird of 
 yore — 
 
 Meant in croaking " Nevermore." 
 
„ >J 
 
 THE RAVEN. 
 
 20I 
 
 ".™, ,ne,ho„Kh.. ,he a,V ,.ew „ense, peHu.nec, f™™ an un.scen 
 
 he hath sent thee- ^ ''^''-" ''"^'^'''^ 
 
 Quoth the Raven, " Neveruiore." 
 
 ashore '"'"J^"''^^ ^"-^^'^1 t''^"^' l^^re 
 
 Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." ^ 
 
 Clasp a raa. and ra.,ant n.aiden, when, „„. atgcis „ , U ;^,~ 
 Quoth the Raven, " Nevemiore. » 
 
 ''"";;:a:t:t''^"«"'"'"'^'""^'-''^^<^-«^ 
 
 "Cet^^^^ back „uo the ten.pes. ant, the Night's Hutonian 
 
 llil 
 
262 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken » 
 Leave my loneliness unbroken ! -qui the bust above my door I 
 lake thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off 
 my door I " 
 
 Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 
 
 And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
 On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door; 
 And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 
 And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow ori 
 the floor : 
 
 And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
 Shall be lifted— nevkrmore ! 
 
 B> 'M 
 
 j^^B;! ij, ' 
 
 
 
 LIIL DAVID SWAN-A FANTASY. 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne.— 1804-1864. 
 
 mi\ 
 
 /v-o;« " TwicE-ToLD Tales." 
 
 We can be but partially acquainted even with the 
 events which actually influence our course through life, 
 and our final destiny. There arc innumerable other 
 events, If such they may be called, which come close 
 upon us, yet pass away without actual results, or even 
 betraying their near approach by the reflection of any 
 hght or shadow across our minds. Tould we know all 
 the vici.ssitudes of our fortunes, life would be too full of 
 hope and fear, exultation or disappointment, to afford us 
 a single hour of true serenity. This idea may be illus- 
 trated by a page from the secret histcjry of David Swan. <> 
 
 We have nothing to do ^^ ith David until we find him, 
 at the age of twenty, on the high roac' from his native 
 
 • 
 
 
floor 
 
 • 
 
 r>AVW SJVAN-A FANTASY. 263 
 
 place to the city of Boston, where his uncle, a small 
 dealer in the grocery line, was to take him behind the 
 counter. Be it enough to say. that he wA. a native of 
 New Hampshire, born of respectable parents, and had 
 received an ordinary school education, with a classic finish 
 by a year at Gilmanton Academy. After journeying on 
 foot from sunnse till nearly noon of a summer's day his 
 wearmess and the increasing heat determined him to sit 
 down m the first convenient shade, and await the coming 
 up of the stage-coach. As if planted on purpose for 
 him, there soon appeared a little tuft of maples, with a 
 delightful recess in the midst, and such a fresh bubbling 
 spring, that it seemed never to have sparkled for any 
 wayfarer but David Swan. Virgin or not, he kissed it 
 with his thirsty lips, and then flung himself along the 
 brink pillowing his head upon some shirts and a pair of 
 pantaloons, tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief The 
 sunbeams could not reach him ; the dust did not yet rise 
 from the road, after the heavy rain of yesterday ; and his 
 grassy lair suited the young man better than a bed of 
 down. The spring murmured drowsily beside him • the 
 branches waved dreamily across the blue sky overhead • 
 and a deep sleep, perchance hiding dreams within it.' 
 depths, fell upon David Swan. But we are to relate 
 events which he did not dream of " 
 
 While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other people 
 were wide-awake, and passed to an fro, afoot, on horse- 
 back, and in all sorts of vehicles, along the sunny road 
 by his bed-chamber. Some looked neither to the right 
 hand nor to the left, and knew not that he was there • 
 some merely glanced that way, without admitting the 
 slumberer among their busy thoughts ; some laughed to 
 see how soundly he slept ; and several, whose hearts were 
 
 Br 
 
^l: 
 
 In -Hi 
 
 !(' 
 
 ■'I f 
 
 li 
 
 if 
 
 m 
 
 364 
 
 T///; HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 brimming full of scorn, ejected their venomous super- 
 
 nobodv e,: ''"' ^""'- ^ -'"'"-aged wido., when 
 
 nobody else was near, tluust her head a little way into 
 
 he .cess, and vowc^ U,at the young fellow looL 1™! 
 
 ing tn h,s sleep. A temperance lecturer saw him a^d 
 
 ttrnil^;:: : ::rra,.''^ .^ead-dru.^enness ly 
 • vcf censure, praise, liierriment scorn anr' 
 
 .nd,<rerence, were all one, or rather all nothing,' L Dat "d 
 
 He had slept only a few moments when a brown car 
 
 a ong and was brought to a stand-still nearly in front of 
 Davids resting-place. A linch-pin had fai.en out and 
 
 wrs'l" ht °"', °' "" ""^^'^ '° ■"'"'= "-^ The damage 
 was s ight, and occasioned merely momentary alarm to 
 
 an elderly merchant and his wife, who were returning o 
 
 Boston „, the carriage. While the coachman and a fer" 
 
 sheTtc^rt^et'f f "■'r''*'= ''"^^-'' ^-"-- 
 
 „,Vi. ,,. , , "'"a -ana uavid Swan asleep be- 
 
 s de ,t. Impressed with the awe which the humblest 
 s^eper u.sually sheds around him, the merchant t'd a 
 hghtly as the gout would allow ; and his .spouse took 
 
 srutf.ufrsr„"-"^-™'----"'^ 
 
 Such s eep as that, brought on without an opiate wou^J 
 be worth more to me than half my income, for 't would 
 suppose health and an untroubled mind " 
 
 " And youth besides," said the lady " Healthy and 
 quiet age does not sleen th„s r,„. i.-- "^^Itny and 
 like his than our wakefulness." 
 
DA VW SWAN-A FANTAS K ^. 
 
 The longer they looked, the more did thi.s elderly coupl,. 
 fed .nterested in the unknown ,outh, to who,., the wat 
 sHje and the maple shade were „ a seeret chamber, wTh 
 the r,ch gloom of damask euri.,„,„ broodinr over hi a 
 Perce,vmgtl. a a stray sunbeam gliM.mercl do.™ \no 
 h.s face, the lady contrived to twis. a branch aside" sfas 
 to mtereep, i, An. having done .las littL act o 'kt" 
 ness, she bcyan to leel like a mother to !,im 
 
 " Providence seems to nave lai<! him here," whispered 
 sheto her husband, "and to have brou ,ht us hither^ 
 
 m1 "' f" ""■■ *-PP"""--t in our cousin' Ton 
 Mcthn,ks I c: , see a likeness to our departed Henry 
 Shall we wakcm him ? ' *- " ncnry. 
 
 "To wh..t purp, e ? ' said the mer^',ant, hesitating. 
 
 We 1< now nothmg of the youths char -er " 
 
 "1 hat open ..untenance!" replied his wife, in the same 
 hashed vo,ce, yet earnestl>-. • This innocent sleep ! •• 
 
 Vv'h, e ihes^e whispers were passing, the sleeper's heart 
 d.d not tn:-ob, nor his breath become agitated nor hh 
 features betray tl ,,■ least token of interest^ Y^^Vor une 
 was bendmg over him, just ready to 'et fall a burthen of 
 gold. The old merchant had lost his onl .son, and had 
 no he,r to h.s wealth, except a distant relative, w^th whos^ 
 conduct he was dissatisfied. I . such case „ ,.ople som'^ 
 times do stranger things than to act the magician and 
 awaken a yo,.„g man to splendor, -vho fell asleep in 
 
 sua'stly "" "°' ""'" '™"' "'P^"'"' '^^ '^dy. per- 
 
 " The coach is ready, sir," said the .servant, behind. 
 
 The old couple arted, reddened, and hurried away, 
 
 mutually wondenng that they sh.ou!,! ever have dreamed 
 
 of doing anything s- ^.,y ri.Iicul. ,us. The merchant 
 
 ill 
 
266 
 
 THE man school reader. 
 
 threw h.mscir back in the carriage, and occupied his mind 
 with the plan of a magnificent asylum for unfortunate 
 men of business. Meanwhile, David Swan enjoyed his 
 nap, ^ 
 
 The carriage could not have gone above a mile or two 
 when a pretty young girl came along with a tripping 
 pace, which showed precisely how her little heart was 
 dancnig ni her bosom. Perhaps it was thi- merry kind 
 of motion that caused- is there any harm . .saying it? 
 -her garter to slip its knot. Conscious that the silken 
 girth, if silk It were, was relaxing its hold, she turned 
 aside into the sheltenof the maple-trees, and there found 
 a young man asleep by the spring ! Blushing as red as 
 any rose, that she should have intruded into a gentle- 
 man's bed-chamber, and for such a purpose, too, she was 
 about to make her escape on tiptoe. But there was peril 
 near the sleej^er. A monster of a bee had been wander- 
 mg overhead- buzz, buzz, buzz-now among the leaves 
 now flashing through the strips of sunshine, and now lost 
 m the dark shade, till finally he appeared to be settling 
 on the eyelid of David Swan. The sting of a bee is 
 sometimes deadly. As free-hearted as she was innocent 
 the girl attacked the intruder with her handkerchief 
 brushed him soundly, and drove him from the maple shade' 
 How sweet a picture ' This good deed accomplished 
 with quickened breath, and a deeper blush, she stole a 
 glance at the youthful strangei, for whom she had been 
 battling with a dragon in the air. 
 
 " Ke is handsome ! " thought she, and blushed redder 
 yet. 
 
 How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so strong 
 within him. that, shattered by its very strength, it should 
 part asunder, and allow him to perceive the girl among 
 
 
DAl'W SWAN-A FANTASY. ^ 
 
 its pimntom.s ? Why, at least, did no .smile of welcome 
 br,t;lue„ upon his face ? She ,vas come, the maid whose 
 .oul, accord.nfr to the ol,| a,„l beautiful Idea, had been 
 !.evered from h,s own, and whom, in all his va.me but 
 passionate desires, he yearned to meet. 1 ler only could 
 he love w,th a perfect love-him only could shereceive 
 ■nto the .lepths of her heart-and L her in,a,e I 
 l.u"tly blusluuK in the fountain by his .si.le ; should it 
 
 Uk^' "■' ''"''''^ '"'"■'■' '™"'^ "'•■"'-''• «''--"'n "Pon his 
 "How .sound he sleeps ! " murmured the trirl 
 She departed, but di<! „„t trip along the road so lightly 
 
 as when she can ':. s'"-'/ 
 
 in ^°"'-"^:» fJ'^''^''^*erwas a thriving country merchant 
 
 .me, to be lo„kmg out for just such a young man as 
 Davd Swan Ha.l David fonne<l a wayside acquaint- 
 ance w,th the .laughter, he woul.l have become the 
 fathers clerks and all else in natural succession. So 
 here, agam, had good fortune-the best of fortunes- 
 sto en so near, that her garments brushed against him • 
 and he knew nothing of the matter ' 
 
 The girl was har,lly out of sight, when two men turned 
 as,de breath the maple shade. Both ha.l dark faces set 
 off by cloth caps, which were drawn down aslant over 
 hen brow.,. Their dresses were shabby, yet had a clr- 
 ta,n s,„artncs.. These w.re a couple of\a.scals, who 
 got their ,vn,g by whatever the devil sent them, an.l now 
 .n the mterun of other business, had staked the joint 
 pmfits of the,r next piece of villainy on a game of car 
 vvh,ch was to have been decided here under the trees 
 But, findmg Davi.l asleep by the spring, one of the n gues 
 whispered to his fellow— 'ofcues 
 
"' • 
 
 268 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 'A I 
 
 . i 
 
 H,st !-Do you see that bundle under his head ? " 
 The othe, v,llain nodded, winked, and leered. 
 
 the 1 , ^""u'' ^°'" "^ '"■""''>'•■■ '^'"■d fhe first, " that 
 the chap has e.ther a pocket-book or a snug little hoaTd 
 of small change, stowed away amongst his sWrts And ff 
 not there we shall find it in his pantaloons' pocket:^" ' 
 . Hut how ,f ho wakes ? " said the other 
 
 th. I <=,7"Pf "™ 'hrust aside his waistcoat, pointed to 
 the handle of a dirk, and nodded 
 
 "So be it ! " muttered the second villain. 
 
 1 hey approached the unconscious David and while 
 ".>c pomtcd the dagger towards his heart, the mh '■' b gin 
 ..search the bundle beneath his head. Vheir two flee 
 gnm,wnnkled,and gha,stly with guilt and fear bent m^r' 
 
 ends, should he suddenly awake. Nay, had the villains 
 glanced as.de into the spring, even they would hardlv 
 nave known them,selves. as reflected the'^e. But Dav .1 
 Swan had never worn a more tranquil aspect, even wZ 
 a.sleep on his mother's breast. t. even when 
 
 .'.' !rr'V'^'";.fr^ '^^ ''""'"'^•" whispered one. 
 If he st.rs, I II strike," muttered the other 
 
 «ut at th,s moment, a dog, scenting along the ground 
 
 at each of these w.cked men, and then at the quiet sleeper 
 He then lapped out of the fountain ^ 
 
 Th/'i^^'" ' " "*"' ""' ""^'"' " ^<= ^^" do nothing now 
 The dog s master must be close behind " 
 
 "Let's take a drink, and be off." said the other 
 
 1 he man w,th the dagger thrust back the weapon into 
 
 k d z'eh rn T '"■'' ' p-'^'^'-p'^'o'. but not :" h : 
 
 kmd which k.lls by a single discharge. It was a flask nf 
 hquor, w,th a block-tin tumbler s.reled upon Le m^th 
 
DA VID SWAN-A FANTASY ^^ 
 
 r^^r • • - If ^n, until It dashed throuifh Iho dk 
 
 or,:'' T;:':f ?t''' ^'"-ber-a„d t... wat the 1;: 
 
 Hallo, ,Ir,vcr! Take a passenger? " shouted he 
 Room o„ top ! " answered the driver 
 
 Bo"^.:::r.t"rm;;:i^ a:?;«r r'^ '--'^ 
 
 fountain of dreamlike v,^ ss! tucL '^ h' ' ''''""' "' "^'•' 
 
 uoun to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear not- tZ 
 
 airy footsteps of the stran-e thin-s ILI ^ u 
 
 Fk^ -^ "-laiij^c mings that almost hann^n 
 
 Does u not argue a superintending Providenee T ' 
 wh,le viewless and unexpeeted events th u the '' ■ 
 continuallv athw;„f our oath -V - ■ "lemselves 
 "'^ P^'"' "^'•"^ snouiu stiil be regu- 
 
270 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 larity enough in mortal life, to render foresight even par- 
 tially available ? ° r 
 
 LIV. MY KATE. 
 
 Sv \ 
 
 Elizabeth Bakkett Bkownin(;.-i8o9-i86i. 
 She was not cas pretty as women I know, 
 And yet all your best made of sunshine Ind snow 
 Drop to shade, melt to nought in the long-trodden ways, 
 Wnile shes still remember'd on warm and cold days- 
 
 My Kate. 
 Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace • 
 You turn'd from the fairest to ga.e on her face : 
 And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth 
 You saw as distinctly her soul and her truths 
 
 My Kate. 
 Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke 
 You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke • ' 
 When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone 
 Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone - 
 
 My Kate. 
 I doubt if she said to you much that could act 
 As a thought or suggestion : she did not attract 
 In the sense of the brilliant or wise : I infer 
 'Twas her thinking of others, made you think of her- 
 
 My Kate. 
 She never found fault with you, never implied 
 Your wrong by her right ; and yet men at her side 
 Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town 
 The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown- 
 
 My Kate= 
 
par- 
 
 A DEAD ROSE. 
 
 None knelt at her feet confessd lovers in thrall • 
 1 hey knelt more to God than they used,-thlt ivas all • 
 If you praised her as charming, some ask'd whn ' 
 
 But the charm cf u^ ^"'^' ^^^^ meant, 
 
 tne charm of her presence was felt when she went- 
 
 My Kate. 
 The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude 
 She took as she found them, and did them all' good • 
 Tt always was so with her : see what you have - " 
 
 She has made the grass greener even here . . with her grave- 
 
 My Kate. 
 My dear one !-when thou wast alive with the rest 
 I held thee the sweetest and lov'd thee the bes 
 And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy pTrt' 
 As thy smtles used to do for thyself. „,y sweet Heart- 
 
 My Kate ? 
 
 271 
 
 LV. A DEAD ROSE. 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 O kosE, who dares to name thee ? 
 No longer roseate now, nor soft nor sweet 
 But pale and hard and dry as stubble wheat _ 
 
 Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee. 
 
 The breeze that used to blow the^ 
 Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away 
 An odor up the une to last all day, 
 
 If breathing nc w, unsweeten'd would forego thee. 
 
 The sun that used to smite th«^ 
 And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn 
 nil beam appear'd to bloom, and flower tr. h^rn — 
 It shining now, with not a hue would light' th^ 
 
272 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 %^\ 
 
 W i 
 
 :! 
 
 
 .t!f 
 
 The dew that used to wet thee, 
 And, white first, grow incarnadined because 
 It lay upon thee where the crimson waj,— 
 
 If dropping now, would darken where it met thee. 
 The fly that 'lit upon thee 
 To stretch the tendrils of its tiny feet 
 Along thy leafs pure edges after heat,— 
 If 'lighting ^ow, would coldly overrun thee. 
 
 The bee that once did suck thee, 
 And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive, 
 And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,— 
 If passing now, would blindly overlook thee. 
 The heart doth recognize thee. 
 Alone, alone i the heart doth smell thee sweet. 
 Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete, 
 Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee. 
 Yes, and the heart doth owe thee 
 More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold 
 Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold :— 
 Lie still upon this heart which breaks below thee ! 
 
 V^-" 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 LVI. TO THE EVENING WIND. 
 
 
 V. 
 
 /^ 
 
 William Cullen Bkyant.— 1794- 1878. 
 >^Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou 
 That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day. 
 Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow ; 
 
 Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, 
 Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, 
 
 Roughening their crests, and scattering high their -pray 
 And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee 
 , ^ lanu, mou vviinucrer 01 ine sea. 
 
TO THE EVENING tV/ND. 
 
 Nor I alone ;-a thousand bosoms round 
 
 Inhale thee in the fulness of delight • 
 And languid forms rise up, and pulses 'bound 
 
 Livelier at coming of the wind of night • 
 And languishing to hear thy grateful sound 
 
 Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the' sight. 
 Oo ford, mto the gathering shade; go forth, 
 God s blessmg breathed upon the fainting earth. ! 
 
 Co, rock the little wood-bird in his nest 
 
 Curl the still waters, bright with stars,' and rouse 
 The wide old wood from his majestic rest 
 - Summoning from the innumerable bom^hs 
 1 he strange deep harmonies that haunt hi; breast • 
 
 Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows 
 The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass 
 And where^the o'er-shadowing branches sweep the grass. 
 
 The faint old man shall lean his silver head 
 
 And dry the mo.sten'd curls that overspread 
 
 And T'^^f ' "'"' ''' ^^^"^^'"g ^^-- -°re deep ; 
 And they who stand about the sick man's bed 
 
 Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep 
 
 And softly part his curtair s to allow 
 
 Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. 
 
 Go,— but the circle of eternal change 
 
 Which is the life of nature, shall restore, 
 Wuh sounds and .ceui. from all thy mighty range. 
 
 Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more 
 Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange, ' 
 
 Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore • 
 And listening to th> murmur, he shall dream ' 
 He hear, the ru.iiing leaf and running stream. 
 
 273 
 
274 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 .; I 
 
 l.fl 
 
 
 ,i , 
 
 !1 f 
 
 m 1 
 
 t 
 
 
 if. I 
 
 LVII.-DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR.* 
 
 Thomas Carlyle.— 1795-1881. 
 
 From Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches. 
 And so we have now nothing more ;-and Oh'ver has 
 nothing more. His Speakings, and also his Actings, all 
 h.s manifold Stragglings, more or less victorious, to utter 
 the great God's- Message that was in him,~have here 
 what we call ended. This Summer of 1658, likewise vic- 
 ^^nous after struggle, is his last in our World of Time 
 Thenceforth he erUcrs the Eternities; and rests upon his 
 arms there. 
 
 Olivers look was yet strong ; and young for his years 
 which were Fifty-nine last April. The " Three-score and 
 ten years," the Psalmist's limit, which probably was often 
 in Oliver's thoughts and in those of others there, might 
 have been anticipated for him : Ten Years more of Life • 
 --which, we may compute, would have given another 
 History to all the Centuries of England. But it was not 
 to be so, ,t was to be otherwise. Oliver's health, as we 
 might observe, was but uncertain in late times ; often 
 indisposed " the spring before last. His course of life 
 had not been favorable to health ! « A burden too heavy 
 for man ! " as he himself, with a sigh, would sometimes 
 say. Incessant toil ; inconceivable labor, of head and 
 heart and hand ; toil, peril, and sorrow manifold, continued 
 for near Twenty years now, had done their part • those 
 robust life-energies, it afterwards appeared, had be^n 
 gradually eaten out. Like a Tower strong to the eye but 
 with its foundations undermined ; which has not long to 
 stand ; the fall of which, on any shock, may be sudden - 
 
 *The author's us. of capita! letters and punctuation marks has been retamed. 
 
DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR. 
 
 275 
 The Manzinfs and Diir«; A^ r 
 dors, and cong.atulat^ t^Xil'^v '"''" ^P'^"" 
 to the street-populations a,:d g ne^ p' M; "TT'"^ 
 yet nithcliawn, when it H.„, . / ^ '"=' ^""^ "<" 
 .un a pnvate ^.!Z>rJ^r^^Z ^ "^^ ^- 
 interest there. The Ladv ri , ^ ^ ^"^ opposite 
 
 harassing to .^i^^^lld T""' " P""''""'=^' »"" --' 
 'ho lot :f a : 1 "Co r;" 'V""^:^^'^' ">at fa,,, to 
 
 fancy once ,.„.e. in t W J^y ."^fh" " r "'^ ^"' 
 pale Death knocking there "fat Te' I T , '°"°^ ' 
 hut. " She hid orenf 1'. '"^''''°"'' Of 'h<-' meanest 
 Yes -and I , ^'^'^^S^' ^''^at exercises of spirit" 
 '^"*^ ni the deoths of f-ho ^1 1 r^ . h""!-- 
 
 paleanxiousMother anxlnsHu 1 ^r""™''' "^ ^^'^ '^ 
 Sisters, a poor young Fra,ee!"r •'"•"""' ''"'^""^ 
 " For the last fourtee^, da^ • h ; T!'"' '"'"''' '" ''*-'^ ^^^■'=''^- 
 balsideit l^.r!^ : r- •''■'* H'Shness had been by her 
 
 bustr:htrir,r'r:!;r""^^"-'-^''"^''^ 
 
 God : in the waves of the dI F ' T' """ ^'^^ '" 
 
 God of heip!_o„ thet^'of'r:- ,;-;-; '-rr 
 
 at rest forever Mv ^.o,,., , '^^.^'■»'t sne lay dead ; 
 
 is taken fron nc 7a™ !ft7 "^'T'^y "-vo! She ' 
 giveth, and the I ;.rd tTk ^ "'"ll "^ ^"'- ^''^ '-""J 
 of the Lord !- '"■'^' ^'"^'^'^'' ^e the Name 
 
 1" the same dark davs orrnrro,! n 
 and last interview with Oliv'.er- c"'^" ^^'^ ""''' 
 
 ing; and his facts everywhere lie round'hhnZ tT' T' 
 parn,gs of his old shop: but we jud.^e i 1^, ^ ''" 
 
 about the tin,e when the Man.inita.r.l the D^csdeC " 
 were parading in their gilt coaches rh- 1 pf"" 
 
 Friends " ,.oin., ou^ • -f t- , " George and two 
 
 o .-. II. ..I » uwn, on a summer day, " two 
 
it 
 
 
 276 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 of Hacker's men " had met them,-taken them, brought 
 them to the Mews. " Prisoners there awhile :"— but the 
 Lord's power was over Hacker's men ; they had to let us 
 go. Whereupon : 
 
 "The same day, taking boat I went down" (///) "to King- 
 ston, and from thence to Hampton Court, to speak with 
 the Protector about the Sufferings of Friend.s. I met him 
 riding into Hampton-Court Park; and I fore I came to 
 him, as he rode at the head of his Lifeguard, I saw and 
 felt a waft" {^vhiff) "of death go forth against him" 
 
 Or m favor of him, George ? His life, if thou knew 
 
 It, has not been a merry thing for this man, now or here- 
 tofore ! I fancy he has been looking, this long while, to 
 give it up, whenever the Commander-in-Chief required. 
 To quit his laborious sentry-post ; honorably lay-up his 
 arms, and be gone to his rest :— all Eternity to rest in O 
 George ! Was thy own life merry, for example, in the 
 hollow of the tree; clad permanently in leather? And 
 does kingly purple, and governing refractory worlds in- 
 stead of stitching coarse shoes, make it merrier? The 
 waft of death is not against him, I think,— perhaps 
 against thee, and me, and others, O George, when the 
 Nell-Gwynn Defender and TwoCenturies of all-victori- 
 ous Cant have come in upon us ! My unfortunate 
 
 George '<a waft of death go forth against him ; and 
 
 when I came to him, he looked like a dead man. After 
 I had laid the Suft'erings of Friends before him, and 
 had warned him according as I was moved to speak to 
 him, he bade me come to his house. So I returned to 
 Kingston; and, the next daj^ went up to Hampton 
 Court to speak farther with him. But when I came, 
 Harvey, who was one that waited on him, told me the 
 Doctors were not willing that I should speak with him. 
 So I passed away and never saw hin* more." 
 
 i i ! 
 
 ■nse~ -■.■'■iS*r 
 
VEATH OF THE PROTFXTOR. ^y^ 
 
 ^u'^T'' "" 1°'^ "^ ^"S"-'' "^5«, this was probably 
 the day „„ wh.ch George Fox .saw Oliver ri.l^n^ i„^ 
 Hampton Park with his Guards, for the las time ^Tha 
 I-rday xs we find, his Highness secned mueh bette 
 but on the morrow a sad change had tak-en place -fever: 
 ^sh symptoms for which the Doctors rigorou.^y prc'scribe 1 
 qu.et. Saturday to Tuesday the symptoms contiued 
 c er worsenmg: a kind of tertian ague, "bastard te "ia ' 
 as the old Doctors name it; for which it was ordered 
 that h,s H,gh„ess should return to Whitehall, as to a 
 more favorable air in that complaint. On Tu^-sd.-v ac! 
 conhngly he quitted Hampton Court ;_never to see it 
 
 "His time was come," .says Harvey; "and neither 
 prayers nor tears could prevail with God to lengthc" otU 
 h.s hfe and continue lum longer to u.s. Prayas abun 
 dantly and incessantly poured out on his bj, If bo >" 
 pubhcly and private^ as was observed, in a mor^ thin 
 
 u"t::[:-'"- ''■"'n ^^'"^ --^ ''^"'^^ --.b-secret a^d 
 unlc, rd by men yet hke the cry of Moses, more loud 
 
 and .s rongly laymg hold on God, than many spoken sup- 
 Phcafon.. All which,-the hearts or God's People b 1 
 
 nlZ'Tlf""' "r"'"' -^^^"^ '" "^^'^ -"We c! 
 
 hat "od? f7" '" '" • ^'^ ^"""^ "'°"Shtsin himself, 
 tnat (jod would restore him." 
 
 " Prayer., public and private.-" they are worth imagin- 
 mg o ourselves. Meetings of Preachers. Chaplains. l"d 
 Godly Persons ; " Owen. Goodwin, Sterry, with . ;om 
 pany of others, m an adjoining room " ; in Whitehall and 
 elsewhere over religious London and England, fer'vent 
 outpourmgs of many a loyal heart. For there .-ere hear 
 to whom the nobleness of this man was known ■ and 
 his worth ♦" *'" "■■•'- ■^ iovvn, ana 
 
 the 
 
 iritan Cause was evident Pravcrs 
 
 Ifj 
 
278 
 
 THE HJ(JJ[ saroOL READER, 
 
 \ ' 
 
 I" 
 
 i ' 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 
 If:; 
 
 -strange enough to us ; in a dialect fallen obsolete for- 
 l^otten now. Authentic wrestlings of ancic nt Human 
 bouls,-who were alive then, with their affections, awe. 
 struck piet.es ; with their Human Wishes, risen to be 
 fnr;^sc,m/,,^/, hoping to prevail with the Inexorable All 
 swallowed now in the depths of dark Time ; which "is full 
 ofsuch snicethe beginning :-Truly it is a great scene 
 of World-H.story, this in old Whitehall: Oliver Crom- 
 we drawnig nigh to his end. The exit of Oliver Crom- 
 well and of English Puritanism ; a great Light, one of 
 our fo^ authentic Solar Luminaries, going down now 
 amul the clouds of Death. Like the setting of a great 
 victorious Summer Sun ; its course now finished " So 
 sttrhtem Hcldr says Schiller, " So dies a Hero .-" SiLdit 
 worthy to be worshipped ! "-He died, this Hero Oliver 
 in Resignation to God ; as the Brave have all done « wJ 
 could not be more desirous he should abide." says the 
 pious Harvey, "than he was content and willing to be 
 gone. The struggle lasted, amid hope and fear, for ten 
 days. . . . 
 
 On Monday August 30th. there roared and howled all 
 day a mighty storm of wind. . . . It was on this .stormy 
 Monday, while rocking winds, heard in the sickroom and 
 everywhere, were piping aloud, that Thurloe and an 
 Official person entered to enquire, Who, in ca.e of the 
 worst, was to be his Highness's Succcs.sor? The Sue 
 cessor is named in a sealed Paper already drawn-up, above 
 a year ago, at Hampton Court ; now lying in such and 
 such a place. The Paper was sent for, searched for • it 
 could never be found. Richard's is the name understood 
 to have been written in that Paper: not a good name • 
 but in fact one does not know In ten years' time, had' 
 ten years more been granted, Richard might have become 
 
DEA Tff OF THE PR 
 
 OTECTOR. 
 
 279 
 
 a fit< Tian . might have been cancelled .T r..\ , 
 
 I ^ ^P-hapsitwasI.o.twood"^^^ '^- 
 
 by -crtam parties, was stolon > M , ^P"^^' 
 
 -ent;-givi„' coir Tk? '^ "'''""=^ "^ '"'"='' m„. 
 
 bar and Worcester The f ' a ^'"°™'' °'" l^""" 
 before the Lord took ht T^ °"^' " "^^' ^'^■•>' "'Sht 
 heaMthus,.itHoppLsei:,et:;r:£^^^^ -t," was 
 Tu V" ^ "^ '" ^°°^ '■ "^^^ed He is • He will n.f 
 
 pains._Again he said • ' r 1 u " ""*' °^ ^is 
 
 farther se "ieeabl t" God a^d H s ^ " I'"'J" "^'= '" '^ 
 ■•^ .done. Vet God wH, he tl H^ P^^J ■'"' ""^ "°^^ 
 
 often t^^:,;? ^nrth^^'h'^'' °' '''^ "'^'^'-P-'^-g 
 offered hi.^hi .afdes 'eTToTalT^'''"^ '° '^""^ 
 deavor to sleep.- Untr^.^^tsltcr; af ^"; 
 my design to drink or sleep • but m JT ' ■ "°' 
 
 What haste I can to be ITI' ^ ^"'"S" "*■ '" make 
 
 — — i »| .. 
 
 gone.' 
 
,# 
 
 
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/. 
 
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t'V ' % 
 
 280 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 
 t ; 
 
 
 "Afterwards, towards morning, he used divers holy ex- 
 pressions, implying much inward consolation and peace • 
 among the rest he spake some exceeding self-debasing 
 words, anmhilating and judging himself And truly it 
 was observed, that a public spirit to God's Cause did 
 breathe m him,-as in his lifetime, so now to his very 
 
 When the morrow's sun rose, Oliver was speechless • 
 between three and four in the afternoon, he lay dead' 
 Friday 3rd September 1658. "The consternation and 
 astonishment of all people," writes Fauconberg, " are in- 
 expressible ; their hearts seem as if sunk within them 
 My poor Wife,-I know not what on earth to do with 
 her. When seemingly quieted, she bursts out again into 
 a passion that tears her veiy heart in pieces."— Husht 
 poor weeping Mary ! Here is a Life-battle right nobly 
 done. Seest thou not, 
 
 " The storm is changed into a calm, 
 At His coinmand and will ; 
 So that the waves which raged before 
 Now quiet are and still! 
 
 Then are they glad,— because at rest 
 And quiet now they be : 
 So to the haven He them brings 
 Which they desired to see." 
 
 « Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord ; " blessed 
 are the valiant that have lived in the Lord '* Amen 
 saith the Spirit,"-Amen. « They do rest from their 
 labors, and their works follow them." 
 
 "Their works follow them." As, I think, this Oliver Crom- 
 well s works have done and are still doing I We have had 
 our ''^ Revolutions of Eighty-eight," officially called « glori-' 
 ous ; and other Revolutions not yet called glorious • 
 
DEA TH OF THE PROTECTOR. jj, 
 
 . and somewhat has been gained for poor Mankind Men's 
 ears are not now slit-off by rash Officiahty ; Officiahty 
 w, for long heneeforth, be more eautious^abont ^1 
 ea s. The tyrannous Star-chambers, branding-irons 
 ch,mer,cal Kmgs and Surplieos at All-hallowtide they 
 are gone or with immense velocity going, o'liver's 
 works do follow him!-The works of a n.an bu J hem 
 under what guano-mountains and obscene ow -dr»pS 
 
 what of Eternal L.ght was in a Man and his Life, is with 
 
 ZfT ^;»."— '""'to theEte„,ities ; rem;ins for- 
 ever a now d>v,ne portion of the Sum of Things ; and no 
 
 matter.— But we have to end here. 
 
 Oliver is gone; and with him England's Puritanism 
 abonously built together by this man. and made a thing 
 
 TtsKlL. r '"'T"^""- P-t--". without 
 Its Kmg, IS kmgless, anarchic ; falls into dislocation sclf- 
 
 coll.sion ; staggers, plunges into ever deeper anarchy ■ 
 K,ng, Defender of the Puritan Faith there in now none 
 be found;-and nothingis left but to recall theokl disowned 
 Defender w.th the remnants of his Four Surplices, and 
 Two Centuries of //^/..„>,>(or Play-acting Jso-c.a led) 
 and pu -up wtth all that, the best we may. The Genius 
 of England no longer soars Sunward, world-defiant, like 
 an Eagle through the storms, " mewing her mightv 
 youth," a.s John Milton saw her do : the Genius 0^^ 
 land, much liker a greedy Ostrich intent on provender 
 and a whole skm mainly, stands with its otiier extremity 
 
 buTof ', TX ■■'^^i^'-'-'^-d ^'"ck into the readiest 
 bush of old Church-t,ppets, King-cloaks, or what other 
 'sheltenng Fallacy" there may be, and .. awaits the 
 
 i I 
 
•I i 
 
 282 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 issue The issue has been slow ; but it is now seen to 
 have be >n inevitable. No Ostrich, intent on gross terrene 
 provender, and sticking its head into Fallacies, but will be 
 awakened one day,-in a terrible d-posteriori manner, if 
 
 not otherwise ! Awake before it come to that ; gods 
 
 and men b.d us awake ! The Voices of our Fathers.tith 
 thousand-fold stem monition to one and all. bid us awake 
 
 LVIII. EACH AND ALL. 
 
 11 ill 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson.— 1803-1882. 
 
 Lttti,k thinks, in the field, yon red-cloak'd clown 
 Of thee from the hill-top looking down ; 
 The heifer that lows in the upland farm,' 
 Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm / 
 
 • The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 
 Deems not that great NapoI.eon 
 Stops his horse, and lists with delight. 
 While his files sweep round yon Alpine height; 
 Nor knowest thou what argument 
 Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 
 All are needed by each one— 
 
 •Nothing is fair or good alone. 
 
 I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 
 Singing at dawn on the alder bough ; 
 I brought him home in his nest, at even, 
 He sings the song, but it pleases not now; 
 
 For I did not bring home the river and sky] "'"■ 
 
 He sang to my ear— they sang to my eye. 
 
 . 
 
 ii' 
 
. 
 
 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 The delicate shells lay on the shore • 
 
 The bubbles of the latest wave 
 
 Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, 
 
 And the bellowing of the savage sea 
 
 Greet 'd their safe escaj), to me. 
 
 I wiped away the weeds and foam— 
 
 I fetch'd my sea-born treasures home; 
 
 But the poor unsightly, noisome things 
 
 Had left their beauty on the shore, 
 
 With the sun and the sand, and th'e wild uproar. 
 
 The lover watch'd his graceful maid, 
 
 As 'mid the virgin train she stray'd ;' 
 
 Nor knew her beauty's best attire 
 
 Was woven still by the snow-white choir 
 
 At last she came to his hermitage. 
 
 Like the bird from the woodlands' to the cage • 
 
 The gay enchantment was undone— 
 
 A gentle wife, but fairy none. 
 
 Then I said, " I covet truth ; 
 
 Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat— 
 
 I leave it behind with the games of youth." 
 
 As I spoke, beneath my feet 
 
 The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath. 
 
 Running over the club-moss burrs ; 
 
 I inhaled the violet's breath ; 
 Around me stood the oaks and firs ; 
 Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground 
 Over me soar'd the eternal sky. 
 Full of light and of deity ; 
 Again I saw, again I heard, 
 The rolling river, the morning bird ; 
 Beauty through my senses stole— ' 
 I yielded myself to the perfect whole. 
 
 28j 
 
284 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 LIX. WATERLOO. 
 
 Chakles James Lever.— 1806-1872. 
 From Charles O'Malley. 
 •' Tins is the officer that I spoke of," said an aid-de- 
 camp, as he rode up to where I was standing, bare-head- 
 ed and without a sword. " He has just made his escape 
 from the French lines, and will t.e able to give your 
 lordship some information." 
 
 The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord 
 Uxbridge were known to me ; but I was not aware till 
 afterwards, that a soldierlike, resolute looking officer be- 
 side hnn, was General Graham. It was the latter who 
 first addressed me. 
 
 "Are you aware, Sir," said he, "if Grouchy's force is 
 arrived ? " 
 
 "They had not: on the contrary, shortly before I 
 escaped, an aid-dc-camj) was despatched to Gembloux 
 to hasten his coming And the troops, for they must be 
 troops, debouching from the wood yonder— they seem 
 to form a junction with the corps to the right— they 
 are the Prussians. They arrived there before noon from 
 bt. Lambert, and are part of Bulow's corps. Count 
 Lobau and his division of ten thousand men were de- 
 spatched, about an hour since, to hold them in check " 
 
 " This is great news," said Lord Uxbridge. "Fitzroy 
 must know it at once." 
 
 So saying he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon dis- 
 appeared amid the crowd on the hill top. 
 
 "You had better see the Duke, Sir," said Graham: 
 "your information is too important to be delayed Cap- 
 tain Calvert, let this officer have a horse ; his own is too 
 tired to go much further." 
 
Waterloo. 
 
 285 
 
 "And a cap, I beg of you," adderl I, in an under tone- 
 for I have already found a sabre." ' 
 
 By a slight circuitous route, we reached the road unon 
 
 which a mass of dismounted artillery carts h ' 
 
 ons, and tumbrils, were heaped togetle 'at fbf"T 
 
 -against the attack of the ^Lnch 'dtgoo , wh": 
 
 han once had ,>enetrated to the very crest ;f our po"! 
 
 t^on Close to this, and on a little rising ground from 
 
 wh,ch a v,ew of the entire field extended from Hougou 
 
 ^^rore hhn whe::t a:;:::^:;-,r„?rNe?: ^ eT 
 
 stdl pressed onwards ; while the fire of sixty gfeat guns 
 poured death and carnage into his fines. The second 
 Belgian d.v.s.on, routed and broken, had fallen back upon 
 he twenty-,seventh regiment, who had merely time to 
 throw themselves into square, when Milhaud's cuirlTslrT 
 armed w,th a terrible long straight sword, came see'n^ 
 down upon them. A line of impassaWe bayonets f 
 hvmg .&.„W.-/„i. of the best blood of Britain stood 
 firm and motionless before the shock : the French 
 ««/.«.& played mercilessly on the ranks ; but the chTsms 
 were h led up like magic, and in vain the bold ho™ 
 of Gaul galloped round the bristling files At 7 !u 
 the word " fire." was heard within thLqu re and rSe 
 buMets at pistol range rattled upon them, th; euLls af 
 
 "That column yonder is wavering: why does he not 
 
286 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 bring up his supporting squadrons?" inquired the Duke, 
 pointing to a Belgian regiment of light dragoons, who 
 were formed in the same brigade with the seventh hus- 
 sars. 
 
 " He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers, 
 my lord," said an aid-de-camp, who had just returned 
 from the division in question. 
 
 "Tell him to march his men off the ground," said the 
 Duke, with a quiet and impassive tone. 
 
 In Itss than ten minutes the regiment was seen to de- 
 file from the mass, and take the road to Brussels, to in- 
 crease the panic of that city, by circulating and strength- 
 ening the report, that the English were beaten, — and 
 Napoleon in full march upon the capital. 
 
 "What's Ney's force? can you guess. Sir?" said Lord 
 Wellington turning to me. 
 
 "About twelve thousand men, my lord." 
 
 "Are the Guard among them?" 
 
 " No, Sir ; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle 
 Alliance." 
 
 "In what part of the field is Buonaparte?" 
 
 " Nearly opposite to where we stand." 
 
 " I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the 
 great attack. The battle must be decided here," pointing, 
 as he spoke, to the plain beneath us, wher-e still Ney 
 poured on his devoted columns, where yet the French 
 cavalry rode down upon our firm .squares. 
 
 As he spoke an aid-de-camp rode up from the valley. 
 
 " The ninety-second requires support, my lord : they 
 cannot maintain their positions half an hour longer, 
 without it." 
 
 " Have they given way, Sir ?" 
 
 «'No " 
 
lie Duke, 
 
 3ns, who 
 inth hus- 
 
 irassiers, 
 returned 
 
 said the 
 
 ;n to de- 
 ls, to in- 
 jtrength- 
 ;n, — and 
 
 lid Lord 
 
 WATERLOO. 
 
 387 
 
 -a Belle 
 
 was the 
 
 jointing, 
 
 till Ney 
 
 French 
 
 e valley. 
 
 d : they 
 
 longer. 
 
 " Well. then, they must stand where thev «r. r u 
 cannon towards the l^fV • . a ^ ^^^ ^ ^«ar 
 
 At this motent the i.Vht ' T" ''"^''ermont." 
 of the hill on ThlL w tt„S™^^-7t past the base 
 
 French heavy cuirassL b Se Th 7' '^ "^"^ 
 were taken ; and the cheerh^l nf ;h ^'^^ "^ °"' ^"^ 
 they advanced to *err|e^p*:J--;; '"fa-try, ^ 
 victory. ^ ' P^^^^&ed their hope of 
 
 trot or advancing s,uadfot Ca"' htdteh M ''' ''''' 
 
 They were the Life Guards and "th^ Rr . 
 
 the first Dragoon Guards and JheEnn^Jn "'"■ "'* 
 formed into close column ^nnisk.lleners, were 
 
 bridge'"""' ^''^ ''"""'• '"y ^-<^ .•• -d t to Lord Ux- 
 
 "Come along, Sir, come alone" said !,» , u , 
 h.s hussar jacket loosely behind him to r ""'"^ 
 
 to his sword-arm.-" Forward 1 ' ^"^ ^"""^''"' 
 
 steady, hold your horses n ltd ''th^"' IT™"'' •"" 
 gether charge" ' "^^^^ "''""t, and to- 
 
 " Charge !" he shouted ; while, as the word fl. <■ 
 squadron to squadron earh h . ""^"^ '^°™ 
 
 saddle.andthat'mSy mis asthoTr '""' """" '''^ 
 one spirit, dashed Le^Xt-It^^.'"''"? "'" '"' 
 beneath them. The French Wn ?°" "''^ '=°''""" 
 
 ferior beside in weight both nf" ^"^, ^'^''a-sted, in- 
 but a short resistanct A tht tTn":" .'"r °''"^'^ 
 the sweeping hurricane, wave Lc^eilin™ '^ 'r^^"* 
 steel-clad squadrons of France felfbefoTe'Th"'"' "^ 
 arm of Britain's cavalry Onwa^ th """""^ 
 
 death andrui,, before thL,and:ettLdThe-"""'"^ 
 "nt„ the guns were recaptured, and Tt^::^::: 
 
add 
 
 pulsed, 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 retired beneath 
 
 sordcrcd,and broken, h 
 protection of their artillery. 
 
 There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the 
 subject mentions, a terrible sameness in the whole of this 
 battle. Incessant charges of cavalry upon the squares 
 of our infantry, whose sole manoeuvre consisted in either 
 dcph.ying into line to resist the attack of infantry, or 
 falling back into square when the cavalry advanced— per- 
 forming those two evolutions under the devastating fire of 
 artillery, before the unflinching heroism of that veteran 
 infantry whose glories had been reaped upon the blood- 
 stained fields of Austerlitz, Marengo, and Wagram— 
 or opposing an unbroken front to the whirlwind swoop 
 of infuriated cavalry ;— such were the enduring and de- 
 voted services demanded from the English troops, and 
 such they failed not to render. Once or twice had' tem- 
 per nearly failed them, and the cry ran through the ranks, 
 "Are we never to move forward?— Only let us at them!" 
 But the word was not yet spoken which was to undam 
 the pent-up torrent, and bear down with unrelenting 
 vengeance upon the now exulting columns of the enemy. 
 It was six o'clock: the battle had continued with un- 
 changed fortune for three hours. The French, masters 
 of La Haye Sainte, could never advance further into 
 our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougou- 
 mont, but the chateau was still held by the British Guards, 
 although its blazing roof and crumbling walls made its 
 occupation rather the desperate stand of unflinching 
 valor than the maintenance of an important position. 
 The smoke which hung upon the field rolled in slow 
 and heavy masses back upon the French lines, and gradu- 
 ally discovered to our view the entire of the army. We 
 quickly perceived that a change was taking place in 
 
WATERLOO. 
 
 centre. The attack upon the cM """"^ '° ">« 
 
 ously supported, while the obliau»' r " ''""'■" '"''' "'S"'- 
 wing, which, pivoting upon P^„l''"'^"'°" "^ ""•■''• "(.'ht 
 
 tothe Prussians,-al! denoted at ■°''P°'''' " ^''^^ 
 battle. It wa, now the hou.th x?*-'" '" "^^'^ ""'^^ °f 
 convinced that notWn' burth '" '''"'™" "=•■' «' '-' 
 support could cle.st.;'.brut,:i':?" "r""'" "" '""^'- 
 fentry; that althout.h T ^ ^'"^"'^''^'''^J^ri'ish >"- 
 La Haye Sain e col rr"""™' ""^ '•^^" l'-"-"/. 
 the right the wC.^:f'^' *';"■• "'" although upon 
 
 nearly -surrounded byTTt^:':"":.''"' '"^ ""^^ -- 
 army „,u.st prove the . ertn^ J^' T"" ""^ °"^- 
 vctory was beyond his gra"p l^.e f i "'' '"" *' 
 whose success the experience nf r . ' '^''''''agen-.s, 
 here to be found powerl^^^ The' '' ^'°'''^' "'=- 
 
 carrying one important point nf .t'"""'' manoeuvre of 
 turning him upon the fla.A ''"'^"'^''^ '""•■»- "f 
 
 centre, were hfre iX'raSr ?;- "^7^ *<= 
 h.s avalanche of grape-shot h u ' ""^''' '''""ch 
 
 crashing columns of cav!lf I' ■""^''' P"""" J'""' his 
 storm of his brave nlmrv'- t T'f ' """ ^°^"> "^ '>- 
 shape heralded thei ann ^'\, '' *°"''* <'''-""> *" every 
 fi" the fallen r:^:::!lZt:£^:rT''"^ '■""' *' 
 unslaked thirst fo; s"aulht w^f" '''^'"'''^ ^'"""^ the 
 leader of this galiLt ho^^ ' u^'" ""'S^t the gallant 
 onslaught Of thf ^ °; ^^^ ^^ the reckless 
 
 unflmching few. who. bearing Z'^Lroudba^f "rT *'' 
 alone sustained the fieht w.ii ^ , ^''^'^ °'^ ^"ta'n, 
 
 or Blucher !" ^ ' " ""^'" '"^ ^''claim. " Night. 
 
 It was now seven o'clock, when a darl- 
 '° ^orm upon the heights aboJ:Te tncrc:nZ::d 
 
290 
 
 THE I/K;// school reader. 
 
 li f 
 
 h . 
 
 psf divide into three gigantic columns, of which the right 
 
 occupied the lirusscls road. These were the reserves, 
 consisting of the Oid and Young (Juards, and amounting 
 to twelve thousand— the elite of the I'Vench army— re- 
 served by tiie ICmperor for a great coup-de-mah,. These 
 veterans of a hundred battles had been stationed, from the 
 beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the fight ; 
 their hour was now come, and, with a shout of " \'ive 
 riimpercurl " which rose triumphantly over the din and 
 crash of battle, they began their march. Meanwhile, 
 aids-de-camp galloped along the lines, announcing the 
 arrival of Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping spirits of 
 the men; for, at last, a doubt of victory was breaking 
 up-n the minds of those who ne\er before, in the mos^t 
 adverse hour of fortune, deemed his star could set that 
 led them on to glory. 
 
 " They arc coming : the attack will be made on the 
 centre, my lord," said Lord Fit/roy Somerset, as he di- 
 rected his glass upon the c(;Iumn. Scarcely had he spoke 
 when the telescope fell from his hand, as liis arm, shat- 
 tered by a French bullet, fe'l motioidess to his side. 
 
 " I see it," was the cool reply of the Duke, as he ordered 
 the Guards to deploy into line, and lie down behind 
 the ridge, which now the French artillery had found the 
 range of, and were laboring at with their guns. In front 
 of them the fifty-second, seventy-first, and ninety-fifth 
 were formed ; the artillery, stationed above and partly 
 upon the road, loaded with grape, and waited but the 
 word to open. 
 
 It was an awful, a dreadful moment: the Prussian can- 
 non thundered on our left; but so desperate was the 
 I'Vench resistance, they made but little progress: the 
 dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the as- 
 
iVA TERUW. 
 
 291 
 
 cent, and the artillery cpasnH fK«- a 
 
 the ...n.,.. sh. j/rni;: :. r::^:.^rn "' 
 
 bct'an that trc,nc„,l..us cheer fn.m r.Y.ht to lefto f 
 l".e wh,ch ,ho.sc- who hcar,l never can fcrU f " IT 
 ""l«tic„t, loHK-resfrained burst of un T > ■" ""^ 
 
 With the instinct ■ h.vi, 7 "'"'laked vengeance. 
 
 li"ur of trial was come ■ an.l 1 !/ m ^^ ''"'^'^ ""^ 
 'o-n^-. echoing C t^^t,: nc^ AT,:';:";;'"^ 
 Kouinont to the fiir-oiT vallev of I n P ^ "'*"" 
 
 come ! they come !" was the c" \lx Z'";'''" '"^'^^^ 
 l^^pneur! n.n,le.l with the outburst of the Brmsh 
 
 succi';:; d^;:fSa;:!;rf'trr'^'.- -'-•'^•^ 
 
 the head of Nev's cohln fi ^ ''"''"'"' <^'"ard, 
 
 with tlK- b yonet^ t^^^wl "' T"'^ ""'' ''^— ' 
 •;■•.. ran,. ^ra^hil^H .rp^^ 7fir LXr d' 
 
 tl>cy were re^Tv'ed .: 2 "' ^°"™"'^'' '"^ ' •>•" 
 
 firsf St' Brit?:;;":' ": r °^ "^^ "'"- -'^ *^ 
 
 T'.e artillcr close UP hTfl '"'' «''-'' '"''^^^ "'^■"- 
 ^lubcs up , .he flankintr fire from fV,« «• 
 
 upon the road opens upon them ; the head of fh"' 
 
 column breaks hke a shell ; the Duke sdzes the m " 
 
 and advances on foot towards the rid ' ""'"'' 
 
 ; Up. Guards, and at them !" he cried 
 
 1 he nour of triumph and vengeance had arnV.^ t 
 
 a moment the Guards were on thef- f! . ^' ^" 
 
 poured in • the bavonZ! u ^^ ' °"^ ^^^^^ ^^s 
 
 r- V* XI, , ijie Dayonets were hrono-lif +^ ^u 
 
 they cosed upon the ene^y: tli^ t s If thf ^s^ 
 
292 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 i' 
 
 
 "rii; 
 
 >[!i 
 
 ♦ 
 
 1:;. 
 
 u 
 
 ! 
 
 r > . 
 
 il'ii 
 
 
 dreadful struggle that the history of all war can present 
 l^unous with long restrained passion, the guards rushed 
 upon the leading divisions ; the seventy-first, and ninety- 
 fifth, and twenty-sixth overlapped them on the hanks 
 The.r generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier 
 and Mallet are killed: Friant lies wounded upon the 
 ground ; ^^y^ his dress pierced and ragged with balls, 
 shouts still to advance; but the leading files waver 
 they fall back ; the supporting divisions thicken ; confu- 
 sion, pamc succeeds ; the British press down; the cavalry 
 come galloping up to their assistance , and, at last, peli- 
 melUvc ;whelmed and beaten, the French fall back upon 
 the Old Guard. This was the decisive moment of the 
 day ;-the Duke closed his glass, as he said • 
 
 "Fhe field is won. Order the whole line to advance " 
 On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent 
 irom the height. 
 
 "Let the Life Guards charge them," said the Duke- 
 but every aid-de-camp on his staff was wounded, and I 
 myself brought the order to Lord Uxbridge 
 
 Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and 
 bore down with four regiments of heavy cavalry upon 
 the French centre. The Prussian artillery thundered 
 upon the.r flank, and a their rear. The British bayonet 
 was m then- front ; while a panic fear spread through their 
 ranks, and the cry of "5^;.... qui pent r resounded on all 
 sides. In vain Ncy, the bravest of the brave ; in vain 
 boult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Labedoyere, burst from 
 the broken disorganized mass, and called on them to 
 stand fast. A battalion of the Old Guard, with Cam- 
 bronne at their head, alone obeyed the summons : form- 
 ing into square, they stood between the pursuers and 
 
 their ntov ofif'^'-Jna- \\\^ — —' -> 'a 1 
 
 - 1--.J, -j.jv-.xH^ mv;iiiacivca a sacrifice to the tarnish- 
 
WATERLOO. 
 ed honor of their arms : to the orrl^r f^ 
 answered with a cry of defianc f^ ''"''''• "'"^ 
 
 flushed and elated vWth victo ' .«io ' T ^ ^^^^'^>'' 
 ranks, no quailing ioot nL ^' °""'' ""="■ '"'''^'linB 
 
 Emperor i::!^ :::^:^ ^^ ;- ^^ere th:; 
 
 rode with lightening speed hither Indthifh ' 
 
 •ng. ordering, nay imj^oring too bu a, eadvT"".'" 
 was falling, the confusion became each" "^ '"! "'^'■' 
 .nextrieable, and the effort was a f u t 's one^^A "°" 
 
 bu. the ovrhr^g^^pr or^st^tr ^^ 
 
 thishfs las hope d'eser^hrX H H-^ '"""^^"^ ^- 
 his horse anH 7 "^^^^^ him, than he dismounted from 
 
 square whihtheT'? "™"'' "'"'^ '^™-'f -to" 
 Guard hid formed ^^IhT'""""' °' ^'^"^"^^ °^ "><= ^Id 
 ro^e followed hirUrdT-^ '"^ "--'- ^ Je- 
 
 heJtrerm^f/BX^I;,^"^^ ^^"""^ -"" ^" "•'^ ' 
 ran?s\:;:deraT; the'' Prussian light artillery rend the 
 .scattered fragments A ^^'^.^'^^^^ '"-v" upon the 
 
 bin,, Place ^^.^^ ^^:::!^i;-^' - 
 
 Wellington, 
 Thy great work is but begun I 
 With quick seed his end is rife 
 Whose long tale of conquering strife 
 Shows no triumph l-ke his life 
 Lost and ivon. 
 
 Dante Cmbriel Ros.sktt,,-,828-i882. 
 
 On iUlhngton's Funeral, Nov, i8tk, 1832. 
 
294 
 
 II 
 
 H i 
 
 ¥ '^ 
 
 .i'f 
 
 !f 
 
 I ! 
 
 T/f£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 LX. THE DIVER. 
 
 Edward Bulwer. Lord Lytton. -1805-1873. 
 Translated from the German of Schiller. 
 "O WHERE is the knight or the squire so bold 
 
 As to dive to the howhng Charybdis below ?— 
 I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold, 
 
 And o'er it already the dark waters flow • 
 Whoever to me may the goblet bring, 
 Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king." 
 
 He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep 
 
 That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge 
 Of the endless and measureless world of the deep 
 Swifl'd into the maelstrom that madden'd the surge 
 And where is the diver so stout to go— * 
 
 I ask ye again— to the deep below ?" 
 
 And the knights and the squires that gather'd around, 
 
 Stood silent-and fix'd on the ocean their eyes ; 
 They look'd on the dismal and savage profound 
 
 A ^i '^' ^''"/ '^''"'"^ ''""'^ """^>' ^h«"ght of th'e prize. 
 And thrice spoke the monarch : - The cup to win 
 Is there never a wight who will venture in ?" 
 
 And all as before heard in silence the king 
 
 Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but' gentle, 
 Mid the tremulous squires s^epp'd out from the ring 
 
 Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle ; 
 And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder 
 On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder. 
 
 As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave 
 One glance on the gulf of that merciless main 
 
 Lo ! the wave that for ever devours the wave 
 Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again • 
 
 
=9S 
 
 THE niVEK. 
 
 And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom 
 Rushes foa„„„g„ fo„h f,„„, ,„^ „^^^-, oiTixoo... 
 
 And it bubbles and seethp^ ^^a v u- 
 L'ke a sea that ,s laboring the birth of a sea 
 
 The whiripoo, c,:t^ ™ rrT;:: d:"" "t'^ "'^' »-"- 
 
 A yawning abyss, h.e the rh,:;'to "" '" '^^'^ 
 The t,ner and darker the farther it Le, ' 
 
 Suck dtnto that smoothness the brefkeLep.se 
 The youth gave his trust to his Maker ! Before 
 
 Hark?rsS' /o?.^ ''' ''^^" ^''^^ *Xn, 
 
 And, behoid /ri 4fH7^\t "'"'^ '"^ ^'">''='- 
 And .er him the breakers'ltTeruC',,",^ *« ™- ' 
 And the g,ant-mouth elosed on the swLmer 1 bold. 
 All was still on the height snvp fh 
 
 From the grave of the w "'"™"'" '^^^ ^'^"t 
 
 ^^i^r'f--^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 More^"i:ra":rrj^r;^^^^ 
 
 More dread and more dread al ^ ^ ^'''"'~- 
 
 niore dread grows suspense in its fear. 
 
 — If thou shouldst in those waf^^rc fK a- ^ 
 And crv " ni ^ ^ ^^y ^'-'^^^e"! fl'ng 
 
 ood4^4:rxr.:r::- 
 
 A crown at such hazard were vah,ed too d " ^"^' 
 What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal 
 
 : % 
 

 :i 
 
 V'iv 
 
 m 
 
 296 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Ch many a bark, to that breast grappled fast, 
 
 Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave : 
 
 Agam crash'd together the keel and the mast, 
 
 I o be seen toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave !- 
 Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer, 
 Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer. 
 
 And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars. 
 As when fire in with water commix'd and contending; 
 
 And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, f 
 And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending 
 
 And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom 
 
 Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom. 
 
 And lo ! from the heart of that far-floating gloom 
 
 lake the wing of the cygnet-what gleams on the sea? 
 
 Lo an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb ! 
 Steering stalwart and shoreward : O joy, it is he ! 
 
 The left hand is lifted in triumph ; behold 
 
 It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold ! 
 
 And he breathed deep, and he breath^ long 
 
 And he greeted the heavenly light of the day. 
 They gaze on each other, they shout as they throng. 
 
 He hves-lo, the ocean has render'd its prey ' 
 And safe from the whirlpool, and free from the grave 
 Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave !" ' 
 
 And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and glee • 
 And the goblet his d.ring has won from the water ' 
 
 He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee • 
 And the king from her maidens has becKon'd his daughter 
 
 She pours to the boy the bright wine which they oring 
 
 And thus spoke the diver : '' Long life to th. l.r,. , ^' 
 
 f 
 
r, 
 
 I? 
 
 Iter. 
 
 f 
 
 T//E DIVER. ^^^ 
 
 "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, 
 The air and the sky that to mortals are given ' 
 
 May the horror below nevermore find a voice — 
 Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven » 
 
 Nevermore,-nevermore may he lift from the sight 
 
 1 he veil which is woven with terror and night ! 
 
 " w ',?i'"^-^''"!"^ ''■^^" ^'^^^'"'"^ '^' ^^^^-^ '■"^h'd o'er me, 
 A\ lid floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day ■ 
 
 1 111 a torrent rush'd out on the torr.nts that bore me ' 
 
 And doubled the tempest that whirl'd me away ' 
 
 Vam, vain was my struggle,-the circle had won me 
 
 Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me. 
 
 " ?Tk '^' ^^? '^'" ^ """'^ "P^^ G°d' ^-^"d Ho heard me 
 In he dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye ' 
 
 A rock jutting out from the grave that interr'd me • 
 
 I sprung there, I clung there,-and death pass'd me by. 
 
 And, lo ! where the goblet gleam'd through the abyss 
 
 By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless. 
 
 " Below, at the foot of that precipice drear. 
 
 Spread the gloomy and purple and pathless Obscure ' 
 A silence of horror that slept on the ear 
 That the eye more appall'd might the horror endure • 
 Salamander, snake, dragon-vast reptiles that dwell ' 
 In the deep-coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell. 
 
 " Dark crawl'd, glided dark, the unspeakable swarms 
 Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast • ' 
 
 Here clung and here bristled the fa/, .nless forms • 
 Here the dark-moving bulk of the hammer-fish pass'd • 
 
 w ;r '^^^.^Srinning white, and a menacing motion, ' 
 
 Went the terrible shark,-the hyena of ocean. 
 
li* 
 
 298 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 rf:i 
 
 " There I hung and the awe gather'd icily o'er me 
 So far from the earth, where nnn'« h.i .k 
 
 The one human thing. ;"htherblns1fr" "'' "°"' 
 Alnnp i„ , 1 *""""■"« ROWlns before mc— 
 Alone-.n a loneness so ghastly-AtONE 1 
 I)eep .mder the reach of the sweet living breath 
 And beg,rt w,th the broods of the deserl of toth. 
 
 "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now 
 
 Of.hee.aUn^Xlr^Lr-J^w'ir 
 And the wh,r, of the mighty wave seized me ™ce more 
 It setzed me to save me, and dash to the shore" ' 
 
 O., the youth g^ed the monarch, and marvelPd : quoth he 
 Bold d,ver, the goblet I promised is thine • ' 
 
 And th,s nng I will give, a fresh guerdon to th e- 
 
 Never jewels more precious shone up from , e min. 
 If tl oult brmg me fresh tidings, and venture agl 
 lo say what hes hid in the innemost main." 
 
 Then ottt spake the daughter in tender emotion : 
 
 .^j=^::^xas:— St. 
 
 -" *'' ■'"'«'"= P"' '" ^hame the exploit of the squire V 
 The king seized the goblet, he swung it ou high 
 
 " B^,t h r^; " '"' '" '"^ ™^^ °f 'he tide f 
 . ^ r'n\ ""'' "'^' Soblet again to my eye 
 And r„ hold thee the dearest that rides'b; my side • 
 
 And thme arms shall embrace as thy bride, I d"cr ' 
 The matdon who.se pity now pleadelh fo thee • 
 
THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS. 2^ 
 
 And Heaven, as he listen'd, spoke out from the space, 
 Ana the liope that makes heroes shot flame from hi eyes • 
 
 He gaxed on the blush in that beautiful face- ' 
 
 It pales-at the feet of her father she lies 1 
 
 How priceless the guerdon !-a moment-a breath- 
 
 And headlong he plunges to life and to death ! 
 
 They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell 
 1 heir commg the thunder-sound heralds along - ' 
 
 Pond eyes yet arc tracking the ,pot where he fell ' 
 1 hey come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng 
 
 Roanng up to the cliff,-roaring back as before 
 
 But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore 1 
 
 LXI. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS. 
 
 Cardinal Newman. — i8oi- 
 From Callista. 
 
 JUBA's finger was directed to a spot ^vhere, amid the 
 tt.,ek fo ,age, the gleam of a pool or of a marsh was Jsi! 
 ble. The various waters round about, issuing from the 
 
 f hJl ' "tT"- 'I'l "" "'■^'^">' ''^'"P-^' "^^d run into 
 a hollow filled w,th the decaying vegetation of former 
 years. Its banks were bordered with a deep, broad layer 
 of mud, a transition substance between the rich vegetable 
 matter which it o.ce had been, and the multitudtou: 
 world of msect life which it was becoming. A cloud o 
 m>st at this time was hanging over it, high fn air. aZZ 
 and shnll sound, a whizzing or a chirping, proceeded f^l 
 hat cloud to the ear of the attentive listener. Wha^ 
 these mdications portended was plain. . . . 
 
300 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 m I) 
 
 were exposed, extended fr< m the A ia U^T'T-r"'" 
 frojn Arabia to ,nd,a, and fro™ thf N '1 Re^Ta' 
 to Greece and the north of Asia Minor \L 
 recorde,! in history of eloncir f T 7' "' ""■" 
 
 crossing the Wack Sel ,n , . '''^^■''^''"K "'■'^cct 
 
 to I.o,n'bardyt,^ :;:,:'""''•«"'' ''"' Mediterranean 
 
 • I • • numerous in ts snecios a^ .> ,'. 
 
 w, e ,n .ts range of territory. Brood fonor: „d l^ 
 
 ■nonth of Mareh ; .^Z::^. TZ ^t^ '1 1 
 our present listorv of ftc n vvdncing, as in 
 
 Kvon one Hight z;:^s::: :!;:z:':;j; J::.- r 
 
 is no exagge'Z T J^^hlftLX df t^ "^' ^ ''' 
 vv^^ch c—tance indi. thei'r^tln Ara^i^'i 7 
 
 aS;edi"'th::rr tr.:'^^^^''^" '^-^ '- 
 
 its surface. '^^ ""P'^ '=°^'='- °'^ ^'othe 
 
 This last characteristic i^; c:faf«^ • ., 
 
 or th p, 3 of %y;ri;rth:irt:rofT:' 
 
 cation IS also men ^^nnof^ ^ri -^ uevas- 
 
 ciK^u mentioned The corrupting- flv anH fl.« 
 
 r r ^ / , "^"^ °"^y the crops and fruits hnf fk 
 
 foliage of the forest lY^oif .u ^ruus, but the 
 
 bark^of the tret e^ th^i^^^^^^^ ^"^ ^^^ 
 
 energetic rapacity Th I f '""°"-' ^"^ 
 
 . ..-apacit>. They have been known even to gnaw 
 
THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS. 
 
 the door-posts of the houses. Nor do fh. 
 
 The. L^ p^,: r^^-^^e ;~. .He. , 
 
 Harpies, they smear every thinir tha7fh! \ u " ""= 
 miserable slime, which ha^ the cffe a ' ff ^ '""* "'"^ ^ 
 >ng, or as some si v in „ i. " ^"'"^ '" corrod- 
 
 Perhaps,asra ,^;: r,:,";;"/ -d ''-"■■"^'- ^"^ ^^^^ 
 else, they die • as if ZTjZ' ^^"^ "^^ '^° ""'hing 
 
 the poisono^s'et^n^ents of tt'" ""''=™'-- to man, fof 
 and dispersed abroad L "'''"''^ "''" "'"' '^' '°™e 
 
 mana Jto cLtrrln "'"\" P^-'"'^"^<-- ; »"d they 
 their hfe. ^ """"^ ■""'''^ ''^ "'^ir death than i^ 
 
 a ct•d:::btt:^o^htt"T;^^- ™*'"^ -p- 
 
 have spoken with Ih ^t^.Z rT" "' "■''* ^'^ 
 J"ba pointed grew and gTew M 1 it beca""™ '° "'"' 
 body, as mueh as a furlo^ngl 1' '! ^^ ' T"''' 
 vanguard of a scries nf .■ •, , ' ^ ' "'"' "^"t the 
 another out of the hot , no M ^'''''' ^""""^ ""^ after 
 like clouds, en arlt nto H "'' ''"''' "''"^ '"'° '^' ^''^ 
 charged againiTE ^^.'^^ TT '"t '''" '''■ 
 .•nnumerous mass was put i,l""motfo ™f . ""^'^ 
 career.darkeningthefacoofday As T-' ' ^'" "' 
 
 ment of divine power it seemTd to 1 ''" '"'"■"- 
 
 its own ; it was set oft t drfZ l^r "" ^°''"°" °' 
 
 made northwards, sttight t 'silca Th"''^' ''"'^ 
 vanceo. Host after host for = ^ ,' ^"^ *ey ad- 
 
 gradually declining^T^htaT^^iS-JL^^ ^"'^ 
 
 Sn° tieftur r r r '^^ -'^-^-t:;: 
 
 II om uont to rear anri <^k„- i • . " '' ^-■^-tend 
 
3M 
 
 THE IJJi.Ji SCiiiH)/. READER. 
 
 W 
 
 fit 
 
 Ml 
 
 fl^'kcs ..f a ycllow-clorc... . ^ ','',;;; -"""""■'••■""^' 
 tl>cy .Icsccn,!, a hvfnf, carpet ,,„ ^ -^""^^ ''"' 
 
 c-ops, «.„<lcns, copses Zvcs ore, ';■'''•''''''" ^''^'^'' 
 vvoo,ls, „ra„..cnes „■,!,,,; "'''''•'"'»• v>"cyar,ls, oli^ 
 
 •>iif,tr Its, palm plantations, and th,., I,.,... f 
 »l'annf,. noihin^ «ith,n tl.cir reach 'nu «? "■''"• 
 
 f'-nvanl ol.stinately, L tl.'v bt^ -Infts orcra»ling 
 
 die's uvie e f Zee ''"■''' ',"■ ""''''''■'' "'""■^■""' -'- 
 massesnileV te t^„r';;,""' '"" '"'" "'^■'" ' ""-•■■■■ 
 
 in vain their tZ i r "U'l "■•'•;''' '^ "" ^"^"'■^'"'^ = 
 P""'- l>c.-.sants l,asti;d ;,r, ; ^ ' 7'--'»'-- The 
 enemy came on ■ i,, vain it r n ''■'"'"=" '•'" ">"■• 
 
 - --.i. limine., 's;:;;:^ ' ^^x a::;",r7, "^ ""-•"■' 
 
 locusts fall ; they ,,„,, xjr^^ ."' :' "">-''^ly '1"I the 
 
 tlK-na,nea„.lthewater I V, ''''•■'•■''''-■>' '••''"'^•"l 
 
 a.Kl the vast it,'':,"''' ''-•^"•"yccl them the while, 
 
 They mo ci^rHu?: irrrr"'.^''" -"--^ ""• 
 Pinf,' at nothin.. I„d s, " it ; " '" "^'='"--'"l<». «top- 
 a broad fnrron:-;: " ,e i'^''"^' '"' """-'"S ^ they carried 
 loathsome while t 1 '"' """^ """""-y' ^lack and 
 
 of them a; fr", ■;">::'; T '^t""^ "" ^^* ^'^"^ 
 Before them, in thelanguge p^!Lt:'°^'^ "^"^ ^'""=- 
 and behind them a desert Th„ ^^ ' "'"" ^ P^^-^dise, 
 they surmount walls a, , hcd^ "''.""=' ^^ "°''''"S; 
 dens or inhabited hou^t ' '"'"^ ""°"' ^"■ 
 vineyard has been pl^'e" in a ^1""'^^'""'"''"''^ 
 
 h'-mea m a sheltered grove. Tlie 
 
THP. PLAGUE or LOCUSTS, 
 
 hi^h U'Inds of Africa uill » , °^ 
 
 t*. .a,,.-- ha, been no.'/ '''•■ ""•' '"'^'>' l"'!'''"- "f 
 
 ■"■■; - -^^:::^iz::^:- ""' '■'■"■' 
 
 KJUhcers bargain for a funeral pio'an; . T' ^'"'"-- 
 the conditions „f their en„„, - """'' '"''' '""•■ "f 
 
 'loncwhatthowin, a . S™'-""'- .T'^'-' ''-"«'^ have 
 -hole pr„„,i.e of , k- t ,^1 !'"'' '""'f "'" ''"• ""'' '^e 
 the .slcn.ler s.o.ns ,.:ci:f trl Th""" '"' " '""^' "-' 
 'e- .n,eo,n,non, but still ten<le,Uvit „" " t"""^'''- ''""■ 
 care ; each plant fs L-r.nf , vi • , ^"'^^ common 
 
 '-ch rouni, <: a;';^^ ; ;;:;t :''-'^ ';^ ■? ^'-'ar 
 
 "•ail ; in an hour the solic tud n "'"'-''' " '■" '" 
 
 <l.-csser are lost amih s n u "^' '"" "^ '^e vine- 
 
 -nihng farm ; alt bt sort"^; ■ 't'"'' '''''-''• - '^ 
 -er. is founc,' againsUh:; L ':r ^ ^-"^/"^'^ ^har- 
 fn>.n one root, an,l has elothe.I an Tnafll T ■''"'"^" 
 branches tlie four wilk Tl, i , "'"^ ">' "'any 
 
 With .on, Custer;":!!- h "' tt l^n^^^ l^""' ''''' 
 every grape and leaf there is a Tocus T'^'k °" 
 
 caves and pits, carefully strewcf lit^s n. ?" l" '"^ 
 men have (safclv -m thn.r fi u ^' ^"^ harvest- 
 
 the far-faied t' iS^fc^r^^-' '"'fe'". 
 "P .nto ten, twenty, fifty ei-ditv ^ T ""' "^"'^'^ 
 'Ir-ed stalks : somet ries ;h^^ ^i' "?' ""■"= ""^ f"'"- hun- 
 and those shoott;^ t^h ■; T '^™ "''' «"'-. 
 stores a,e intended for Zl^ " ""''■ ^hese 
 
 locusts have been ^11;^™- P^'^T^h^' ' '"" 
 patches of ground belongino- to th. The small 
 
 down the country, for Sg t tS^'f "^ ^"^ 
 water-melons, on which they lie are h ^ ' ''"''">'■ 
 Rlutton invaders as much JZl ^'^^ "^ "^'^'^e 
 
 Nor have tHey any rre^rfotrL^ir^fr ':):;: 
 
KM 
 
 
 ■ !;'! 
 
 H 
 
 r f 
 
 r' 
 
 IJ 
 
 decurion or the Roman official. The neatly arranged 
 kitchen jraruen. with its cherries, plums, peaches, and 
 apricots. IS a waste ; as the slaves sit round, in the kit- 
 chen ,n the first court, at their coarse evening meal, the 
 room ,s filled with the invading force, and news comes 
 to them that the enemy has fallen upon the apples and 
 pears m the basement, a^xl is at the same time plunder- 
 ing and sacking the preserves of quince and pomegranate 
 and revelling in the jars of precious oil of Cyprus and' 
 Mendes in the store-rooms. 
 
 They come up to the walls of Sicca, and are flung 
 against them into the ditch. Not a moment s hesitation 
 or delay ; they recover their footing, they climb up the 
 wood or stucco, they surmount the parapet, or they have 
 entered m at the windows, filling the apartments, and the " 
 most private and luxurious chambers, not one or two 
 hke stragglers at forage or rioters after a victory but in 
 order of battle, and with the array of an army. Choice 
 plants or flowers about the imphivia and xysti, for orna- 
 ment or refreshment, myrtles, oranges, pomegranates, 
 the rose and the carnation, have disappeared. They dim 
 the bright marbles of the walls and the gilding of the 
 ceihngs. They enter the triclinium in the midst of the 
 banquet ; they cravi^l over the viands and spoil what they 
 do not devour. Unrelaxed by success and by enjoyment 
 onward they go ; a secret mysterious instinct keeps them 
 ^ogether. as if they had a king over them. They move 
 along the floor in so strange an order that they seem to 
 be a tessellated pavement themselves, and to be the arti- 
 ficial embellishment o{ the place ; so true are their lines 
 and so perfect is the patrern they describe. Onward 
 they go, to the market, ■, the temple sacrifices, to the 
 bakers stores, to the ^.o.kshops, to the confrrtinn., 
 
 i'>-'i-ii»_»iiC13, 
 
THE I'LAGVE OF LOCUSTS. 
 the drugfrists ; nnthiim comes amk. . .u 
 man has annht to cat or A 7 u "^'^'^ ' whoever 
 
 dcp.h ., . T '''■'"'^■' ""^'■e are they rocklo,« „f 
 
 death st„„,f: of appetite, eertain of con<„,ost ' 
 
 Another an<l a still worse calamitv Ti, • ' . ' 
 ^ve have already hinted cou^l h ^' "'™*'"'' «'' 
 
 their "verthrow'han n t ' av ™""Tr'": ^"" '" 
 of the country had attomnt I u "^ ^^" '"'"'bitants 
 
 stn.yt,.en, ^):^ T^^'T:^ "^'' '" "- 
 malignant anin.als ha.l resoKcl L ?k T"" "' "^ "^« 
 have the benefit of this : |i y't^' J'^.f''^^^": ■^'-"''» 
 not go, „,„re than tv.vnt ' mi rbevond S ^ , '^ ''"'' 
 ■suddenly sickened and d ed. When "het 7 ?";.""^^ 
 all the mischief they could by tlu^^ir h„ ^ u "' '''"' '*""= 
 • had made their foul maw the grave o'"'' 7 ''"''' "^"^ 
 ne.t they died themselvesl^aX^^trL'S 
 the,rown grave They took from it its hu^d ' fo 
 and vaneties of beautiful life, and left their o'^d 
 calt^ooh'"":""''"-^ '" P^^™-'- " w a",:; „^ 
 
 to subdu beyond it; but,lhethe;trwl ve~^ 
 
 that suddenly they fell Lndtht """"' '" " ''^ 
 and all was vLit/t^lLrlst^thtl^nrthe" "7"^' 
 '■oseup.and their corruption rose un h ^V "^^ 
 
 done proudly." P' '""'*"'« 'hey had 
 
 The hideous swarms lav dead in fi,„ 
 
 the dishonorpd vipovn^^^ a • P^ ^"^ 
 
 from their remains.' m^led Z^Z'^'f "™'"^ 
 ^ s " wun tne atmosphere, and 
 
3o6 
 
 li 
 
 ■ill' 
 
 i ( 
 
 IHE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 CO upted ,t The dismayed peasant found that a plague 
 
 had begun; a new visitation, not confined to the terr^ 
 
 cry wh,ch the enerny had made its own, but extending 
 
 ttns xr '/', f "^^^^Ph-^ -tends, in all direc 
 tions. Their daily toil, no longer claimed by the fruits 
 of the earth, which have ceased to exist, is now devoid 
 to the object of ridding themselves of the deadly legacy 
 which they have received in their stead. In vain • \ is 
 their ast toil ; they are digging pits, they are rlising 
 piles, for their own corpses, as well as for the bodies of 
 their enemies. Invader and victim lie in the same grave 
 burn ,n the same heap ; they sicken while they work, and 
 the pestilence spreads. 
 
 -■■■ u 
 
 S'M , 
 
 LXII. THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR. 
 
 William Makepeace Thackeray.-i8ii-i863. 
 In tatter'd old slippers that toast at the bars 
 And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars 
 Away from the world and its toils and its cares 
 I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs'. 
 
 To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure 
 But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure : 
 And the view I behold on a sunshiny day 
 ^15'i'i!^'°"!^ ^^^ chimney-pots over the way. V/ 
 
 This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks 
 
 With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books 
 
 And foohsh old odds and foolish old ends, 
 
 Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. 
 
 t 
 
t 
 
 THE CANE-BOTTOAPD CHAIR. 
 Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd ) 
 Old nckety tables, and chairs broken-back'd '^ 
 
 A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see • 
 What matter ? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. 
 
 No better divan need the Sultan require 
 1 ban the creaking old sofa that basks b^^ the fire • 
 And 't,s wonderful, surely, what music you get ' 
 iTom the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet 
 
 That praying-rug came fror. a Turcoman's < amp 
 By 1 .her onc:e twinkled that brazen old lamp • 
 A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn \ 
 1 is a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. X 
 
 As ve slT / r'^' '"^ "'' ''''^'^^ -^^ «1J times; 
 As we sit m a fog made of rich Latakie 
 
 _Th_is chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. 
 
 But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest 
 1 here s one that I love and I cherish the best • ' 
 I^or the finest of couches that's padded with hair 
 I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat, 
 With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet • 
 But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there 
 I bless thee, and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms. 
 A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms ' 
 I look d, and I long-d, and I wish'd in despair • ' 
 
 I wislrd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair 
 
 307 
 
3o8 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 |-< ! 
 
 I'; 
 
 It was but a moment she sat in this place 
 
 She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face ' 
 
 A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair 
 
 And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 And so I have valued my chair ever since, 
 
 Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince; 
 
 Samt Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare. 
 
 The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 When the candles burn low, and the company's gone 
 In the silence of night as I sit here alone— 
 I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair— 
 My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 She comes from the past and revisits my room • 
 She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom • 
 So smilmg and tender, so fresh and so fair. 
 And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair. 
 
 1 
 
 LXIII. THE RECONCILIATION.* 
 
 Thackeray. 
 
 There was scarce a score of persons in the Cathedral 
 
 beside the Dean and some of his clergy, and the choristers 
 
 young and old, that performed the beautiful evening 
 
 P[!^:!'l_^^li_^^'^;^^ and 
 
 //I^r '7)'. ^"^'f^'^^y Esmond, Esq., a Colonel ii^lt/^^^^i^^of 
 Her Majesty Queen Anne. Written by himself. " ^ 
 
 The late Lard Castlewood had been kilI..H in n .i„ i a 
 
THE ^RECONCILIATION. 
 
 hair. 
 
 1 
 
 dral 
 ters, 
 ling 
 and 
 
 ce of 
 
 ond, 
 ately 
 t his 
 sup- 
 
 309 
 
 his mother's eyes and ^rf!. '""^'^""'h.with 
 
 that m over hiM::2r^ t-aTetT '^™"- "->• 
 - Vandyke mi^jht have pained Zt^V ^ '"^"^ 
 trait of ray Lord Viscount ,I„ 1 n J^'S^ud's por- 
 
 but a French vcL^ln " h,s "' , T" '"■"=™^^^-^' S-- 
 When he looked uTthl'-rett' ;"i:^,"f »'> ^^e. 
 of h,s eyes such as no painter's palette ha th^ "J' """ 
 match, I think. On this riiu fl,„ ^^ ''°''"' to 
 
 Of seeing that ParticurhXr:~;,::5,^''-- 
 tcnancc; for tho tn.fl. ; u i y >^°""& 'oius coun- 
 
 -tpa;,and*Lt;;t5ir ""' ^°^ ^''"^ 
 
 iiut the music CO;,.;n,r if '°"^' '^'^^ ^'^^^00. 
 
 him. and his":;:^,,?^ °;rKt::^'°r^ 
 
 t.ng opposite him, gazing with no smaM f ' ?° '"'"' '^- 
 
 had borne h,s patron, and from d votl to ?> r"' f""""' '''' '"^^ '"^ '-^ 
 befriended him, immediately destroyed th. 1" C^stlewood. who had much 
 
 honorable parentage, and elt .ae :tdsCh " f^ "'" """^" "^'"^ ^^ »^'^ 
 c'uel. while Esmond was in prison Ladv C .^t 1'"" " '''^'■*^*- ^^^*^''- ^^e 
 vvildness of her grief for her nm^Lcd llban 7° "•'''' ''■"' '"'^ '" ''^« 
 for not having saved her lord's 1^ o . ' t '^H ' T'T""' '"" ^°^'^' ^'•»--" 
 which those reproaches occasioned' Fsl T ,' '?'"'• '" "^'-' ^^trangen.ent 
 but subsequently, desiring to J 'of e tlSf of , i'^ '""*"''' '^''^'^■^'' ■» -"• -• 
 whose happiness he pri.ed more than lis Ivn h 1 t'""'?' ""'""^ '"""'y- 
 went to Winchester, near which was Wa Icote ' . ^ < T^ '" '^"^'^"'^' "^"'^ 
 fam,ly were attending service in th; -atV;;, ^ ''^""- '^^'^ 
 
 Plaee.-Esmond had fonnerly Ix'en" prom Id n '''' /•-''""''■^*^''°" »""k 
 vacancy occurring while the estr.,, ''"""'•'' "'^ ^'^''ng^ "f Walcote, but the 
 given it to one Mr Tusher "'^''"^'^'"'^"' '^""^'""ed. Lady Castlewood had 
 
3IO 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I'.-' « 
 
 i ' } ! ;■ 
 
 lifted from her book), and said. " Look, mother !" so loud 
 tliat Esmond could hear on the other side of the church,' 
 and the old Dean on his throned stall. Lady Castle- 
 wood looked for an instant as her son bade her, and held 
 up a warnin^^ fin-er to Frank ; Esmond felt his whole face 
 Hush, and his heart throbbinnr, as that dear lady beheld 
 hnn once more. The rest of the prayers were speedily 
 over ; Mr. Esmond did not hear them ; nor did his mis- 
 tress, very likel)', whose hood N\ent more closely over her 
 face, and who never lifted her head a^r.iin until the ser- 
 vice was over, the blessin^r ^jvcn, and Mr. Dean, and his 
 procession of ecclesiastics, out of the inner chapel. 
 
 Youngs C'astlewood came clamberin^r over the stalls 
 before the cler-y were fairly ^ro„e, and runnin^^ up to 
 I'.smond, ea-erly embraced him. " My dear, dearest old 
 Harry ! " he said. " are you come back ? Have you been 
 to the wars? You'll take me with you when you go 
 again ? Why didn't you write to us ? Come to mother." 
 Mr. l^smond could hardly say more than a "God ble.ss 
 you, my boy," for his heart was very full and grateful at 
 all this tenderness on the lad's part ; and he was as much 
 moved at seeing Frank as he ^^•as fearful about that other 
 Hiterview whkh was now to take place : for he knew not 
 if the widow would reject him as she had done so cruelly 
 
 a year ago 
 
 " It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry," Lady 
 Esmond said. " I thought you might come." 
 
 " We read of the fleet coming to Portsmouth. Why 
 did you not come from Portsmouth?" Frank asked, or 
 my Lord Viscount, as he now must be called. 
 
 Esmond had thought of that too. He would have 
 given one of his eyes so that he might see his dear friends 
 again once more ; but believing that his mistress had 
 
 1 
 
THE KECONCnjATfON. 
 
 3" 
 
 forbidden him her house, he had obeye.l her an.l re 
 mained at a distance. "" 
 
 he"s^r '''"* ''"' '° ""^'^'"^ >'°" "^"^^^ ' ^™"l'l '"•■ here," 
 She gave him her han<l, her little fair han.l : there wi, 
 only her marria,. ring on it The c.uarrel was a I o^; 
 1 he year of gnef and estransje.nent was passed. Thev 
 never ha,l been separated. His mistress iJa.l never been 
 out of h,s m„,d all that time. No, not o„ee. No ,ot 
 the prtson ; nor in the camp ; nor on shore bcf , ^ h" 
 enemy ; nor at sea under the stars of sole.nn m 1,,^ 
 nor as he watchc.l the glorious rising of the dawn n, t' 
 even at the table, where he .sat car<,using wit^t: ds 
 at the theatre yonder, where he tried to fancy that other 
 eyes were bnghter than hers. Ihighter V's tl^e c 
 mtght be, and faces more beautiful, but none so dear-no 
 voice so sweet as that of his beloved tnistress, who had 
 been s.ster. mother, god.le.ss to him during hi youth- 
 goddess now no more, for he knew of her wealnes es • 
 and by thought, by suffering, and that experienc it 
 bnngs, was ol.ler now than she ; but more f<!ndly 1 ! 
 .shed as woman perhaps than ever she had been adored 
 as d,v,n,ty. What is it ? Where lies it ? the secret wh ch 
 makes one httle hand the dearest of all ? Who ever can 
 unnddle that mystery P Here she was, her son b^ h" 
 s,de, h,s dear boy. Here .she wa.s, weeping and happy. 
 She took h,s hand in both hers ; ho felt her tears ft 
 was a rapture of reconciliation. ... " 
 
 hu'^favt"'-'"'^'' T'";"*-' ''°"'<= '° ^PPe--- Hu.zay! 
 huz^ay cries my lord. " Mother, I shall run home and 
 
 b,d Beatnx put her ribbons on. Beatrix is a maid of 
 honor. Harrtr '^^^r•\. .. c„r- 4- • *"dm oi 
 
 , -I J.. ^u,_ii a nne set-up minx ' 
 
 " Your heart was never in the Church, Harry," the 
 
312 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 '•!'!; 
 
 ^M 
 
 widow sa,d m her sweet low tone, as they wa!k-e,I away 
 together. (Now, it seemed they had never been parte! 
 an<l atran,, as ,f they ha,l been ages asundo, , " I ahvays 
 thought yo„ ha,l no voeation that w.ay ; and that 'twas a 
 p.tyto sh,,t yo„ out fro„, the world. You would but 
 have puiod and el,afecl at Castlewood : an<l 'ti.s better 
 you .shou d make a name for yourself. I often .said so to 
 my dear lord. How he loved you I -lAvas ,ny lord that 
 made you stay witli us." 
 
 •• I asked no better than to stay near you always," said 
 Mr. Ksmona. 
 
 " Hut to go was best, Marry. When the world cannot 
 g.ve peace, you will know where to find it ; but one of 
 your strong unagination and eager desires .nust try the 
 «™-ld first before he tire., of it. Tw.as not to be thought 
 of, or If ,t once was, it was only by my selfishness, that 
 yoi| should remain as chaplain to a country gentleman 
 a.Kl tutor to a little boy. You are of .he blood of the 
 ■-s„,on,l.s kinsn,an ; and that w.as always wil.I in youth 
 I-ook at ].ranci.s. He is but fifteen, and I scarce can keep 
 ..m m my nest. ] fis talk is all of war and pleasure, and 
 e longs to serve in the ne.xt campaign. Perhaps he and 
 the young Lord Churchill shall go the next. Lord Marl- 
 borough has been good to us. You know how kind they 
 "•ere m my misfortune. And so was your-your father's 
 widow. No one kno,vs how good the world is, till <rrief 
 comes to try u.s. 'Tis through my Lady Marlboro.rgh's 
 goodness that Beatri.x hath I,er place at Court ; an.l Frank 
 .s under my Lord Chamberlain. And the dowager lady 
 your fathers widow, has promised to provide for you- 
 has she not?" ^ 
 
 Esmond said, "Yes. As far as present favor went, 
 Lady Castlewood was very good to him. And should 
 
 i^^TT 
 
 
■5 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 THE KKCONCtUATICm. 3,3 
 
 her miml change," he added ^aily, .'as ladies' mind, wili 
 
 a,ns ,.„„,, c„ou,d, to boar my own burden, and make 
 
 ■ny «aj somehow. Not by the sword very lik-ely 
 
 i housands have a better ^enhrs for that than I, Lt thefe 
 
 a e .nany ways in wln'ch a youn,, „,an <,f good partsand 
 
 cdueatton ean get on in the worl.l ; and 1 L pretty sure 
 
 one way or other, of pro.notion V Indeed, he ha.l found 
 
 patrons .already in the arn.y, and amongst perso s'^J 
 
 able to serve hnn, too ; and tol.l Ids mistress of the flatte,^ 
 
 .ng aspeet of fortune. They walked as though the^ h 1 
 
 tuiucd, ( knew you wouM come, Il.„-ry if_if jt ^,..., 
 but to forg,ve me for having .spoken unjus.ly to Z 
 af^r that horri,I_horri,I n.isfortune I w s h.df f ami 
 w.th gr,ef then when I saw you. And 1 know n,"^ 
 they ha-, tol.l me. That wretch, whose name [ can never 
 ."ent„,n,. ven has sai,l it : how y.iu tried .0 aver the 
 quarrci and w-ould have taken it on yourself, „,y p,,,,,- 
 ch,d:but ,twas God's will that I .should be punished 
 and that my dear lord should fall " P"n".hed. 
 
 said"'.Th^ 'rr ''fr'^'l'"^' °" '^'■^ death-bed." Esmond 
 .■saKl. ihank God for that legacy!" 
 
 "Amen, amen ! dear Henry,'- said the lady prcssinLr 
 
 va called to h,m. told me so. And i thanked God, too 
 and m my prayers ever since remembered it " 
 
 mJsIoner '■' J'r'' """ T'l '" ^'"'" "'^*'' "ad you told 
 me sooner, Mr. li.smond said 
 
 "I know it, t know it," she answered, in a tone of such 
 swee hunu hty, as made Esmond repent that he shou'ld 
 ever have dared to reproach her. "1 k.>ow how wicked 
 
V4 
 
 THE men SCHOOL READER, 
 
 ; ( ;,. 
 
 \\ 
 
 irfrff 
 
 illy heart has been ; and I have suffered too, my dear. 
 But I knew you would come back— I own that. And 
 to-d.iy. Henry, in the anthem, when they sang it, 'When 
 thc^ Lord turned the captivity of Zion, we were Hkc 
 them that dream,' I thought yes, like them that dream 
 — thcni that dream. And then it went, ' They that sow 
 in tears shall reap in joy; ..nd he that goeth forth and 
 \veei)cth, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bring- 
 ing his sheaves with him;' I looked up from the book 
 and saw you. I was not surprised when I saw you. I 
 knew >'ou would come, my dear, and saw the gold sun- 
 shine round )'our head." 
 
 She smiled an almost wild smile as .she looked up at 
 hnn. The moon was up by this time, glittering keen in 
 the frosty sky. He could .see, for the first time now 
 clearly, her sweet careworn face. 
 
 "Do you know what day it is?" she continued. « It 
 is the 29th day of December— it is your birthday ! But 
 last year we did not drink it— no, no. My lord was cold, 
 and my Harry was likely to die: and my brain was in a 
 fever; and ue had no wine. But now— now you are 
 come again, bringing your sheaves with you, my dear." 
 She burst into a uild flood of keeping as she spoke; she 
 laughed and sobbed on the young man's heart, crying out 
 wildly^ - bringing your sheaves with you— your sheaves 
 with you ! ' 
 
 As he had sometimes felt, gazing up from the deck at 
 midnight into the boundless starlit depths overhead, in a 
 rapture of devout wonder at that endless brightness' and 
 beauty— in some such a way now, the depth of this pure 
 devotion quite smote upon him, and filled his heart with 
 thanksgiving. Gracious God, who was he. weak and 
 friendless creature, that such a love should be poured out 
 
THK ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 3,5 
 
 upon him ? N„t i„ vain-not in vain has he i;v..d-hu-,l 
 '"'1 'l'a..klc.ss .should he he ,„ .hink so-that " su h a 
 
 ;•" ;.- ,.ofi. \ ,.. HoncZth: :•.;:"::;::, :^, 
 
 lou,lcr than yours, when you lie hidden away under e 
 grc^n, a ,„,. with idle titles engraven on y^r offi 
 But only true love lives after you -follows your ,ne,no,'v 
 « h seeret hlessin,-,. precedes you, and Leree. ^^^.^ 
 
 Crto; r ::"■ """r-'f "^i"^-. ■ .-t '-- in a tender 
 icartort«o, nor am lost and hopeless living if a sainted 
 departed s<,ul still loves and prays for me. 
 
 LXIV. THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS 
 
 (Ulicj.iMm..!,. 161.17.) 
 
 W.U.1AM EDMONasniiNi.; AvTOUN.-,Sr3-,8f35. 
 
 Now s here one of all the host will dare .0 venture o'er'. 
 >or not alone the rner's sweep might „,„te a hrave man quail • 
 1 he oe are on the further side, their shot con,es fas. as hail ' 
 ^od help us, „ the middle isle we ,„ay not hope ,„ i" 
 Now ,s there any of the nos, will dare ,0 ven.ire inP 
 
 "■I'he^fordi.sdeep, the hanks are steep, the island-shore lies 
 
 Nor , nan nor hor.se could sten, its for. :e, or reaeh the further side 
 bee there ! a.n.dst the willow-l>ou,«hs the serried bayonets det 
 
 ' :: -IV ''""«^''-"-^- -" 'I- i^le ; the fo ha^' 
 cross d the stream ! 
 
 Their volley flashes shar,, and s,rong,-hy all the .saints ■ I trow 
 There never ye. was soldier horn could force that passage now!" 
 
3i6 
 
 I fi 
 
 THE irnui SCHOOL RKADKR. 
 
 Nor hr Ll "•■ ""■■"■ *''"*■ "'^' '"fl'id river ran 
 
 Nor bndge „„r boa, ..aU ,hey .o cros» ,he „nd a,u. Tonen 
 
 ivc s,™,';;;;;";'" ■*"■■"' "^ "°" •"'^" '"»' -hich r„.shes th^re; 
 
 There ,„a, I.e cl ,«t , I, "lm" ."''," "°' '"'""«""'' '™'-'' 
 J o.inter in tfie ileecl, lint there is honor too." 
 
 The oWlorj, in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said. 
 No. as. t„y «aUant eon.pany' Inh:;;;;^!^ 
 
 n;;":^':;:i^:!'?™--— "'-^^ 
 
 W" "lie of all that company l>,it hore a .-ent le mm,. 
 
 N... one whose fathers had not stood in S«; ' ' w, of fame 
 
 Ah tiK, had tnarch'd ,vith great Dundee to .here he iL^fZ 
 
 An"d ^yl^ZTr"'' '-' ™"«^'' *- '-"- -" ^ 
 As o'er tl; r h '; "m^" '° """ ""™ '=^^^>' ^>'^ ™» "■■™. 
 
 A»d theyra^rdttrVmir^'-^^^""™' ■'-- 
 
 iu !; 
 
 side 
 
 and stoop'd on either 
 
THE ISLAXn OF TllR SCOTS. 
 
 Yon i.sland-slrenKll, is guarded well,_,,ay brotl.cr, wMI 
 
 n" Snrv::;:^:';':' ™^ '■""'"^' --- '-*• 
 
 The .raitor's and ,he noLr ' \ T"" '° ™'' ""^ ''""' 
 But we have t'nV^nt^ ^ ^""^ "'' ""' ■^^""''^ "f »"• 
 dare ' ' '"^■'•' '■•""■'• "= '^"■''"« '" will an<l 
 
 And .«„Uhe old blood hounding free ,.„.,,„ „„,, ,„, „^.^,^, 
 
 Can ha,l^ a.e day. of h,,one years.-be y„„„, and ,s.ron« „„ee 
 
 ThinU^yonder s.rean, ,,o s.a* and red. is one we've cross'd 
 
 Ri.se, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood ! rise up on either hand 
 
 Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring ■ 
 Aga,n I , leader's call : "Upon then, for the K,'ng.' 
 
 Stayd we behmd that glorious day for roaringflood or ifnn ? 
 J-he soul of c:r.™e is with us still,_now, brot'hers, vvi^i .^'p., 
 
 No stay, — no 
 hand, 
 
 pause. With one accord, theygrasp'd each other', 
 
 ii 
 
 Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless 
 
 band. 
 
3<8 
 
 THE limn SCllOOl. READEh 
 
 II.; 
 
 ya 
 
 High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they 
 hore, ^ 
 
 Midst cheer, and shout, and answerinK yell, and shot, and 
 
 <:ann()n-roar, 
 "Now, l.y the n<,Iy Ctoss I T sweat, sin<e earth and sea l.e.an 
 Has never su.h a daring iX^i^^.X essay 'd l.y mortal man l" 
 
 Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the 
 , name : 
 
 The water plashVl in hissing jots as hall and hnllet came 
 U't onwards pushcl the Cavaliers all stern and nndism.v'd 
 A .th thousand armed foes before, and m.ne behind to ;n<l' 
 Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strung the torrent 
 swept, 
 
 That^scane that long and living wall their dangerous footing 
 
 TiKMi rose a warning <ry behind, a joyous sh(,ut before- 
 Ihe current s strong,- the way ,s long,-they1i never reach 
 the shore! 
 
 .See, see ! they stn^er in ,|,e , mis,, thoy w.iver h, their lir,e 1 
 
 "th" ;^'^ "'7,|"'^-" •' I''-* "'-■• ™,ks, .nnd «hehn them' in 
 tlic Khme ! ^ 
 
 H.ive you seen the tall trees swayinj; when the blast is sounding 
 
 And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill ^ 
 How they toss their ntighty branches struggling with the ten,. 
 
 pests shock ; 
 
 How^M,ey^keep their pl.ace of v.-tntage, cleaving firmly to the 
 
 Even so the .Scottish warriors held their own against the river; 
 Though the water flash'd around them, not an eye was seen to 
 quiver; 
 
 Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd hi, 
 
 fiOlu ; 
 

 THE ISLANO OF TIIIC SCUTS. 
 
 For ,,.e,> hc.,.s .... ,,„ ,,.., .,„„„„^ ^^„„ ,„^, ___^.^,,^^^ ^^^_^^^ Jj 
 
 " RcmcmfuT our dead Clavcrlunise'" WIS III M, r- . • •. 
 tn.,l ,he, <:,c..r.l .he heavy .s.rcun, ,l,c„ rush'cl ,„war,l ' .'he isle 
 
 H„. neve, had ,he!; fae:;^:;'^ ; ::;^r;,; :-;7 "«• 
 
 Right up against the guarded trcnrh, and e'er \i swnrri • . . 
 in va,„^.e,> .eaCe. .rwar. pres;.--.her::r:;:e'"J::;^ 
 
 O lonely island of the Rhine — wherp ^^r^A , 
 
 \vu 4 I , '^xiiic, wnere seed was never snvin 
 
 the rain, "' "'*'' ''• ■''"•"K8l'"8 Cl.ro„„h 
 
 She p™.d ; „an and fi.ru, hgh. „„ ^ansh, and ..ea™, and 
 A dreary^spo. with corpse. ...e„„, ar . hayone.s ghs.enin,, 
 
 A broken bridge, a stranded bo-t, a bare and h,„ . , 
 
 And one huge watch-fire's kindled pi e that ser^^lL "°''"' ^ 
 glare ' ^"^ '^^ quivering 
 
 To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there ' 
 
 And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for 
 well ? 
 
 And did they honor those 
 
 those who 
 
 fought 
 
 So 
 
 /ell? 
 
 who liv'd, and weep for 
 
 weep for those who 
 
320 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 H\ 
 
 1 . 
 
 ':i.rl ''r '"^ "" '™-'-"--''.-"hy -own Che cup 
 '' "■';;i"°'_^''''™'^"™™'« W»"d that nowd so freely on the 
 A stranger hand of heggar'd men had done the venturous deed : 
 
 And ' r^ "" ',° "™'' "'""'=• "'>•■ ^'^"S" ™-^ 'heir nreed. 
 And ^^hat^eared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and 
 
 Wht' "'"r m"" 'r"" •^""'^''^ ™"'' ""= -i'^d h<--"rt to cheer > 
 
 ^Vhat mattery ,t that men should vaunt and loud and fond y 
 
 swear, ^wui^ 
 
 That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere ? 
 
 CrJ" """ """'' "'^ Srief that fame can never 
 The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel 
 The,r hearte^were yearning for the land they ne'er might see 
 
 For Scotlartds high and hea.her'd hills, for n.oun.ain, loch and 
 
 For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 
 Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be ! 
 
 Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rh.ne's tempestuous 
 
 Hasja'en^another name from those who bought it with their 
 
 And, though the legend does not Iive,-for legends lightly die- 
 I he peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by 
 And foanrmg oer its channel-bed between him and the spot 
 Won by the warriors of the sword, stills calls that de p nd 
 The Passage of the Scot. [dangerou ford 
 
 Sacrifice and Sclf-Dmliou hal/,m earth a,Hfi// the Me,. 
 
 Lord Houghton 1809-1885, 
 
THE GAMBLING PARTV 
 
 321 
 
 LXV. THE GAMBLING PARTY. 
 
 Earl of Beaconsfield.-iSos-iSSi. 
 From The Young Duke. 
 
 Balrdrr^''"'^'-; '" ^^^-^p*^^ "^^ '"-•'««"" -^ the 
 
 sembledin B^nswic. -^^Xi:^^^^ 
 dmner was studiously plain, and very little wi ,e I^' 
 drunk ; yet eve^thing was perfect. T„m Cog t tep >^ 
 m to carve in his usual silent manner. He ah vv c 'f 
 m and went out of a room without anyoneX^ 
 h.m. He winked familiarly to Temple Grace bu" scaZ5 
 presumed to bow to the Duke. He was very bu,; ab„t 
 
 We'd tTt' *"' '°™' '■" ^ — '?-• e 
 unparalleled. He took particular care to send a most 
 
 perfec portion to the young Dul,e, a,,d he did this aThe 
 
 paid all attentions to influential strangers, with the most 
 
 marked consciousness of the sufferance which pemred 
 
 . h,s presence: never addressing his Grace, buf a"d Uv 
 
 wh..per,ng to the servant, « Take this to the Duke -^ 
 
 HeX:" '"^'"'^^ '" ^^^^^^™"'^ -^-'^^ 
 
 bus.ed m compoundmg some wonderful liquid for the 
 future refreshment, they sat down to ecal Without 
 havmg exchanged a word upon the subject, there seemed 
 a general understanding among all the parties that to 
 
 bSk v'y:* ' - 'f "^ r 'f "■=■ ''"' "^'=>' "'^S- at one, 
 briskly. Yet, in spite of their universal de^— ^■•"-- 
 
 jnidnight arrived without anything decii 'ToZ: 
 
 hour passed over, and then Tom Cogit kept touching th" 
 
322 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 IM 
 
 If 
 
 Baron's elbow and wliispcrinnr in a voice which everybody 
 cc.ulcl understand. All this meant that supper was ready 
 It was brou^dit into the room. 
 
 Gami.ijr JKis one advantage, it gives you an appetite ; 
 tnat IS to sa)', so long as you have a chance remaining. 
 The Duke had thousands; for at present his resources 
 were unimpared, and he was exhausted by the constant 
 attention and anxiety of five hours. He passed over the 
 delicacies and went to the side-table, and began cutting 
 himself some cold roast beef Tom Cogit ran up, not to 
 his Grace, but to the Baron, to announce the shocking 
 fact that the Duke of St. James was enduring great 
 tmuble; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit 
 Mr. Cogit to serve him. Our hero devoured : we use the 
 word advisedly, as fools say in the House of Commons • 
 he devoured the roast beef, and rejecting the Hermitage 
 With disgust, asked for porter. 
 
 They set to again fresh as eagles. At six o'clock 
 accounts were so complicated that they stopped to 
 make up their books. Each played with his memor- 
 anda and pencil at his side. Nothing fatal had yet hap- 
 pened. The Duke owed Lord Dice about five thou- 
 sand pounds, and Temple Grace owed him as many hun- 
 dreds. Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the tune 
 of seven hundred and fifty, and the Baron was in his 
 books but Uightly. Every half-hour they had a new 
 pack of cards, and threw the used one on the floor All 
 this time Toni Cogit did nothing but snuff the candles, 
 stir the fire bring them a new pack, and occasionally 
 make a tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's 
 situation was worsened. The run was greatly against 
 him, and perhaps his losses were doubled. He Dulled nn 
 again the next hour or two ; but nevertheless, at ten 
 
everybody 
 ready. 
 
 vns 
 
 appetite ; 
 Mnaining. 
 resources 
 constant 
 ! over the 
 n cutting 
 p, not to 
 shocking 
 ig great 
 o permit 
 2 use the 
 mmons : 
 irmitage 
 
 o'clock 
 pped to 
 memor- 
 /et hap- 
 e thou- 
 ny hun- 
 he tune 
 ; in his 
 
 a new 
 )r. All 
 :andles, 
 iionally 
 Duke's 
 igainst 
 lied UD 
 at ten 
 
 T//£ GAMBLING PARTY 
 
 323 
 
 I hey playcxi till dinner-time withm.f- ;,.♦ • • 
 though the Duke nrul. ""^^^'^^^^^ intermission ; and 
 
 )-,ii LIU. i^uKc made some dcsiw^r-if/. .,cc ^ . 
 
 successful (,n,.< hi 1 <"si)cr,ae efforts, and some 
 
 cccsslul o,Ks, h,s losses were, nevertheless trebl,,! 
 Yet l,e ate an excellent dinner and was noTat a 1 do' 
 pressed ; because the .ore he lost, the tnorT i 'colt 
 an<l hs resources seemed to expand. At first Z^A 
 limited himself ,0 ten thousand after b cal a t ^ 
 to have been twenty thousan.I ; then thirt^M , "'" 
 
 t- ultimatum i and now he dL^ s 'al hrh "''r 
 .un,. from Ins tnind. and was determined I l^^t^^^ 
 
 At midnight, he had lost forty-ci-ht tho...... i 
 
 A A", .v. 1 -^ s-.'"- tnousand nounrl^; 
 
 Affairs now began to be serious. His sunix-r .J I 
 hearfv \A'j-.;i .i *"-^ '^"PP<-r was not so 
 
 the roon, \ "■"' *"" """'"S-'- ""^ "''•'lk«l about 
 
 the room, and be^an to limit his ambition to recovcrv 
 and not to gain. When you play to win bjk the T ^' 
 over there is nothing to recompense "u f^w r h n" 
 
 JetrtlT' '7 ''''''-' ''-'"'' : aLuhr^ry b:^ 
 result that can happen, while it has no charms seems to 
 your cowed mind impo.ssible. '° 
 
 On they played, and the Duke lost more His n,;.^ 
 was jaded. He floundered, he made d:;era" eZ s 
 but plunged deeper in the slough. Feeli.u, TJ7 
 gam his ground, each card mustlll, he a S f 'al at 
 If It must win. and th*^ ronseo-mrp^ -f ,h- ■ 
 a gamester at such a "crisi:i:r H^ll' ;~^^^^^^ 
 losses were prodigious. ' """ 
 
 i 
 
324 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Il.i 
 
 % 
 
 i 1 i 
 
 Another morning came, and there they sat, ankle-deep 
 in cards. No attempt at breakfast now, no affectation 
 of making a toilet or airing the room. The atmosphere 
 was hot, to be sure, but it well became such a Hell. 
 There they sat, in total, in positive forgetfulness of every- 
 thing but the hot game they were hunting down. There 
 was not a man in the room, except Tom Cogit, who could 
 have told you the name of the town in which they were 
 living. There they sat, almost breathless, watching every 
 turn with the fell look in their cannibal eyes which showed 
 their total inability to sympathize with their fellow- 
 beings. All forms of society had been long forgotten. 
 There was no snuff-box handed about now, for courtesy, 
 admiration, or a pinch ; no affectation of occasionally 
 making a remark upon any other topic but the all-en- 
 grossing one. Lord Castlefort rested with his arms on 
 the table : a false tooth had got unhinged. His Lord- 
 ship, who, at any other time, would have been most an- 
 noyed, coolly put it in his pocket. His cheeks had fallen, 
 and he looked twenty years older. Lord Dice had torn 
 off his cravat, and his hair hung down over his callous 
 bloodless cheeks, straight as silk. Temple Grace looked 
 as if he were blighted by lightning ; and his deep blue 
 eyes gleamed like a hyena's. The Baron was least 
 changed. Tom Cogit, who smelt that the crisis was at 
 hand, was as quiet as a bribed rat. 
 
 On they played tiil six o'clock in the evening, and then 
 they agreed to desist till after dinner. Lord Dice threw 
 himself on a sofa. Lord Castlefort breathed with diffi- 
 culty. The rest walked about. While they were resting 
 on their oars, the young Duke roughly made up his ac- 
 counts. He found that he was minus about one hundred 
 thousand pounds. 
 
klc-deep 
 fcctation 
 lospherc 
 
 a Hell, 
 f cvcry- 
 Thcrc 
 lo could 
 ey were 
 ig every 
 showed 
 
 fellow- 
 "gotten. 
 curtesy, 
 iionally 
 
 all-en- 
 rms on 
 
 Lord- 
 ost an- 
 l fallen, 
 id torn 
 :allous, 
 looked 
 p blue 
 s least 
 was at 
 
 d then 
 threw 
 idiffi- 
 ■esting 
 ^is ac- 
 mdred 
 
 THE GAMBLING PARTY. 325 
 
 annT^f?' '^'' ^'" ^'^' ^^ ^"^ more ^struck, more 
 appalled, let us say. at the strangeness of the surround- 
 
 ZnT'r!^^" '"'" ^^ ^^^ °^" ^"'"- As he looked 
 upon h.s fellow gamesters, he seemed, for the first time 
 m h.s life, to gaze upon some of those hideous demons 
 of whom he had read He looked in the mirror at him- 
 self A blight seemed to have fallen over his beauty 
 and h,s presence seemed accursed. He had pursued a 
 dissipated, even more than a dissipated career. Many 
 were the n.ghts that had been spent by him not on his 
 couch ; great had been the exhaustion that he had often 
 experienced ; haggard had sometimes even been the lus- 
 tre of h.s youth. But when had been marked upon his 
 brow this harrowing care? when had his features before 
 been stamped with this anxiety, this anguish, this baffled 
 desire this strange unearthly scowl, which made him 
 even tremble , What ! was it possible 1 it could not be 
 that m time he was to be like those awful, those un- 
 earthly, those unhallowed things that were around him 
 He felt as If he had fallen from his state, as \i he had 
 dishonored his ancestry, as if he had betrayed his trust 
 He felt a criminal. In the darkness of his meditations 
 a flash burst from his lurid mind, a celestial light ap- 
 peared to dissipate this thickening gloom, and his soul 
 felt a.s ,f ,t were bathed with the softening radiancy. He 
 thought of May Dacre, he thought of everything that 
 was pure, and holy, and beautiful, and luminous, and 
 calm. It was the innate virtue of the man that made 
 this appeal to his corrupted nature. His losses seemed 
 nothing ; his dukedom would be too slight a ransom for 
 freedom from these ghouls, and for the breath of the 
 sweet air. ^ 
 
 He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to 
 
 Tl 
 
 >1 
 
 3. fl 
 
326 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 iff - 
 
 play no more. There was an immediate stir. All jumped 
 up, and now the deed was done. Cant, in spite of their 
 exhaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him to 
 have his revenge, were quite annoyed at the result, had 
 no doubt he would recover if he proceeded. Without 
 noticmg their remarks, he seated himself at th. ^ ^ > and 
 wrote cheques for their respective amounts, T^ , ^ogit 
 jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castle- 
 fort, in the most afiTectionate manner, pocketed the draft • 
 at the same time recommending the Duke not to be in a 
 hurry, but to send it when he was cool. Lord Dice re- 
 ceived his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh the 
 Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him 
 his revenge. 
 
 The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the 
 room with any evidence of a broken spirit ; and when 
 Lord Castlefort again repe d, " Pay us when we meet 
 agam, he said, " I think it very improbable that we shall 
 meet agam, my Lord. I wished to know what gaming 
 was. I had heard a great deal about it. It is not so 
 very disgusting ; but I am a young man. and cannot play 
 tricks with my complexion." 
 
 He reached his house. He gave orders for himself not 
 to be disturbed, and he went to bed ; but in vain he tried 
 to sleep. What rack exceeds the torture of an excited 
 brain and an exhausted body ? His hands and feet were 
 like ice, his brow like fire ; his ears rung with superna- 
 tural roaring ; a nausea had seiz.cd upon him, and death 
 he would have welcomed. In vain, in vain he courted 
 repose ; in vain, in vain he had recourse to every expedi- 
 ent to wile himself to slumber. Each minute he started 
 irom his p.llow with some phrase which reminded him of 
 his late fearful society. Hour after hour moved on with 
 
THE PKKWICKIANS ON ICE. 3,, 
 
 its leaden pace ; each hour he heard strike, and each 
 hour seemed an age. Each hour was only a signal o 
 cast ojf some covering, or shift his position, [t was at 
 length, morn,ng. With a feehng that he shoul,! go mad 
 .f he remamed any longer in bed. he rose, and paced his 
 
 the floor ; the cold crept over his senses, and he slept. 
 
 LXVI. THE PICKWICKIANS DISPORT THEMSELVES ON ICE.'^ 
 
 Charles Dickkns.— 1812-1870. 
 From The Posthumous Papers ok tue Pickwick Clu«. 
 " Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had 
 been done ample justice to ; " what say you to an hour 
 on the ice ? We shall have plenty of tLe " 
 " Capital ! " said Mr. Benjamin Allen 
 " Prime ! " ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 " You skate, of course, Winkle ? " said Wardle 
 " Ye-yes ; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. " lll_am 
 rather out of practice." • 
 
 of Te" ic' w™r ^"^^°'-;-'-P>t-inded old gen";i:;~;^;^-;^, 
 t^ickwick Club. He and three other nienibers. Mr. Winkle Mr Snr.H 
 grass and Mr. Tupman. fern, the Corre.sponding Sociny of the c ub and th 
 travel over England together, n^eeting wUh many laugl ^e ad entt'es Th ' 
 are accompanied by Samuel Weller Mr Pi.L-» ; I' *»"''""- ^'^^^"'"^es. They 
 pound of coo, i^pu'dance. .^i^ .Ir. ^d trTh'; PicVt'r* T' 
 accepted d.e i„.iu.i„„ „r Mr. Ward.e.'of Mant Ln^.'or^trDr.ot 
 present al the marriage of his daughter, Isabella, to Mr Trundr A ^ 
 
 and ,0., a servant lad, k„„„n as the ■ ■ fat" o^-ThrriddLtaf '"■,"""'■ 
 
 ;.rs^:^r,:?;:r---^-'-'""---"----'S 
 
 u 
 
328 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 \ ' \ 
 
 I i 
 
 w 
 
 !• 
 
 " Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. " I like to 
 see It so much." 
 
 •' Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady 
 A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth 
 cxpre.ssed her opinion that it was "swan-like." 
 
 "I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle 
 reddennig ; " but I have no skate.s." 
 
 Thi.s objection was at. once over-ruled. Trundle had 
 a couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there 
 were half a dozen more down stairs: whereat Mr 
 V\ mkle expre.s.sed exquisite delight, and looked exqui- 
 sitely uncomfortable. 
 
 Old Weirdie led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice • 
 and the fat boy and Mr. Weller, ha^•ing shovelled and 
 swept away the snow which had fallen on it durini: the 
 n.ght, Mr. ]iob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dex- 
 tenty which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and 
 described cn-cles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight 
 and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for 
 breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing de- 
 vices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick Mr 
 lupman, and the ladies: which reached a pitch of posi^ 
 tive enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen 
 assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some 
 mystic evolutions, which they called a reel 
 
 All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands 
 blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the 
 soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the 
 pomts behind, and getting the straps into a very compli- 
 cated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr 
 Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a 
 Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr 
 Weller the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and 
 buckled on. and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet 
 
 
like to 
 
 
 THE PICk'WlCk'IANS ON ICE 
 
 ^^ K in.in. J low slippery it is, Sam ! " 
 
 i^ot an uncommon thinfr upon \co ^.V" ... v i ^, 
 VVcllcr. Miokl up, sir!" • ' ^'^'"^'^ ^''• 
 
 lliiH last observation of Mr. Wcllcr'^ ho.o r 
 
 back of his head o„ the ice. ' '' ''"* ""-" 
 
 \'"\« " '^'?f:'^''-"'<^s'-'-a>-e very awkward skates • ain't thov 
 \jSam ? ,„c,uired Mr. Winkle, staffjjerin.. ' ' ' 
 
 Plicl Sa'™^^''' ''''''' ••' "'•^■-' ^-■'•■"•" in ■-, sir... re- 
 
 " Now, Winkle," cried Mr PiVl-,u,vi 
 thif flu.ro , 'ckwick, quite unconscious 
 
 mat tiieie was anything the matter " Com.. • fi i r 
 arc all anxiety." """- ' ^^'"^ ^^^'^« 
 
 " I'm ::^;""^"^' "^^^ ^^"^^^' ^-^^ ^ ^^--iy smil. 
 
 en^i^^ri]^ '^< ^•"'•"'' '^"^' ^"^^---^ to dis- 
 iit,rt^c nimseit. Now, sir, start off ' " 
 
 eoupie of coats atl.e .haM'tn't ia "s .^ ';^: 
 may have them, Sam... 
 
 " Tliaiik.ce, sir," replied Mr. Wcller 
 
 " Never mind touching your- hut. Sam,., said Mr 
 W,„k-^e, hastdy. •• You needn't take your h^nd away to 
 do that. I meant to have given you five shillings dis 
 mornmg for a Christmas-bo.x. Sam I'll „r„,. ;' . "^ " 
 afternoon 
 
 « 
 
 You 
 
 Sam." 
 re wery good, sir," replied Mr. Well 
 
 er. 
 
r ff 
 
 ffi 
 
 I;* ( 
 
 ■! if 
 
 I 
 
 
 fS 
 
 ii ' 
 
 L'l 
 
 .130 
 
 T///-: Hiaif SCHOOL READER. 
 
 "Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr 
 Winkle. " rhere-thats right. [ shall soon get in the 
 way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." 
 
 Mr. U'inkle stooping forward, with his body half 
 doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Wel- 
 ler, in a very singular and un-swan-like manner, when 
 Mr. Picksvick most innocently shouted from the opposite 
 bank : 
 
 " Sam ! " 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 " Here. I want you." 
 
 " Let go, sir/' said Sam. " Don't you hear the gover- 
 nor a callin'? Let go, sir." 
 
 With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself 
 from the grasp ,^{ the agonized J^ckwickian, and, in so 
 domg, administered a considerable imjjetus to tne un- 
 happy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree 
 of dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortu- 
 nate gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre of the 
 reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was per- 
 forming a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle 
 struck wiUlIy against him, and with a loud crash they 
 both fell heavily down. Mr. ]^ickN\'ick ran to the spot 
 Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was 
 far too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He 
 was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; 
 but anguish was depicted on every lineament o nis coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Alien, with 
 great anxiety. 
 
 " Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very 
 hard. 
 
 " I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, 
 with great eagerness. 
 
TffE PICKlVICK'fAXS OX JCE, 
 
 331 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was evn'fo^l -,« 1 • i- 
 one<I to Mr. W.llc, Lvl '"'"'Sn^nt. He beck- 
 
 skates off" ' '"' '""' '" " """ "'i--<--. " Take his 
 
 Mr! Wi,;k'r """'' ' ''"' "■''^^^■'^ '^'•■t'""." -no„.strated 
 
 alloweU Sa,„ to obi; itTn J^ ': '■^■"'""'- ""■• ^^"'^"^ 
 ^;- L.ft hi,n up," said Mr. Pickwfck. Sam a.sistc.l him 
 
 stat^Jer^'^'lfbecf"' %'""^ '"^^-^ '''"^" f™" "- "y- 
 
 i^oure a humbu^^ sir" 
 ;; A what? "said Mr. Winkle, starting. 
 An .ti'r"!;-;^ ' '^'•" ^^-^^ P'--. 'f you wi.sh it. 
 
 •heeT"d'5nrdt;::-„';f ""'--'■ ----■•■^ 
 by their joint endea^rs cut ut al' "'' ""^ 
 
 r::^^^sr^;;-""-~'-d^^^ 
 .beautiru, r^^rc:::;:dfnT;:,t^^ '-^- 
 
 inated "knocking at' the cobW,V-" "'""i^"""°™- 
 achieved by ski.lin, o^^ Le ^Lt ,"^0: 
 
332 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 cas.cnal y jriving a pcstmati's knock upon it with the 
 other. It was a ^.km| lon^^ slide, and there was some- 
 th.HKMn the .notion which Mr. I'ickwick. who was very 
 cold with standing, still, could not help envyin^r. ^ 
 
 " It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it?" he 
 nuiun.,.! of Wardle, when that ^^entlenian was thorou^^dy 
 ;;;'^. "^ '"-^th. by reason of the indefati^.tble manner L 
 uh.ch he had converted his le^.s into a pair of compasses. 
 ■ ind drawn complicated problems on the ice. 
 
 ''Ah, it does indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide"-" 
 ; use. 1 to do so on the gutters, when I was a boy," re- 
 plied Mr. Pickwick. ^ 
 
 " Try it now," .said Wardle. 
 
 "Oh do. plea.se, Mr. l>ickwick ! " cried all the ladies. 
 1 shou d ;.e very happy to afford you any amuse- 
 ment, rephed Mr. Pickwick. « but I haven't done such . 
 lliMli; these thTrty years." 
 
 •• I'ool, ! pool, ! Nonsense !" sai<l Wardle, dmirging off 
 
 1.S skates w,tl, the impetuosity whieh charaetcrr;;ed all 
 
 h,s proceed,ngs. •■ Here; I'll keep y„„ co,.pany ; come 
 
 •long ! And a«-ay went the goo,l tempered old fellow 
 
 "" a'^,;: " f • "■'"' ■'' "■"■'•'■'y "•'■'■<^'' '^'""<= very close 
 upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to nothL. 
 
 Mr. I ,ckw,ck pause.1, considered, pulle.l off his gloves 
 an,l pt, then, in his hat : took two or three short runs, ' 
 baulked hnnself as often, an.l at last took another run 
 an<l went slowly and gravely down the slide, with his 
 feet about a yard an.l a quarter apart, amidst the grati- 
 hed shouts of all the spectators 
 
 " Keep the pot a bilin', sir V said Sam ; and down 
 
 went Ward e agani, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then 
 
 Sam, and then Mr Winkle, and then Mr Bob Sawyer 
 
 and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, follon'ng 
 
 UUUIA / 
 
 J 
 
J 
 
 nil-: ricKu-icKiAxs o.\ /c/-:. ^„ 
 
 olh^ withTs r", """-''■' '""'■^' •■•"'• "'""■"« ■■"■'- -->> 
 
 l"-cl. in hfo clq,ciKlo<l „n llidr cxpclition 
 
 It was the m,>st i„,e„.soly interesting il.inj., to observe 
 o manner „, winch Mr. ]'iel<„.icl< perr,,rn,e,l his sha^Tn 
 tl e cerernnny ; to watch tl,e torture of anxiet vi h 
 winch he v,ewe,l the person l,elnn.l, (gaining upo, hi n^tt 
 tl.c nnmn,ent hazard of tripping him up ; o ec him 
 gradualiyexpen,! the painful force he had put „„ ,t fir ^ 
 a,,d turn slowly round on the slide, with his t™; v ,s 
 thepomt n-on, which he had starte,! ; to cor :emplatc tt 
 playful sm.le whicl, mantled on his face uhen he had ! 
 comphshed the distance, and the eagerness with wh h 
 he turned round when he had done so, and ran afti U 
 
 predecessor : his blacK- gaiters tripping pleasantly Zi 
 the snow, and h,s eyes beaming cheerfulness and glad- 
 ness through h,s spectacles. And when he was knocked 
 
 round) .t was the most mvigorating sight that can pos- 
 sibly be .magmed, to behol.l hi,n gather up his hat 
 gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing cointenanee' 
 an,l resume h,s station in the rank, with an ardor and en-' 
 thusiasm that nothing could abate. 
 
 The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the 
 quickest, the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp 
 smart crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards 
 
 from M t" '"T '"'■™" "^'^ l-«iies,and a shout 
 from Mr. Tnpman. A large mass of ice disa,.,earcd • 
 the water bubbled up over it ; Mr. Pickwick's hit gloves' 
 and handkerchief were floating on the .surface ; ^nd this 
 was all of Mr. Pickwick that .anybody could sci 
 
 Dismay and anguish were depicted on every counten- 
 ance, the males turned pale, and the females fainted. 
 
 1 
 
 m^ 
 
 h 
 
 m ^H 
 
 m 
 
 S IBSmJi 
 
If ' 
 
 334 
 
 
 1 ? 
 
 i 
 
 if 
 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Mr Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by 
 the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had 
 gone do. n, with frenzied eagerness : while Mr. Tupman 
 by way of rendering the promptest assistance, and at the 
 same time conveying to any persons who might be within 
 hearmg, the clearest possible notion of the catastrophe, 
 ran off across the country at his utmost speed, screaming 
 tire!" with all his might. 
 
 It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam 
 \\eller were approaching the hole with cautious steps, 
 and ^f/-- J^enjamm Allen was holding a hurried consulta- 
 lon with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding 
 the company generally, as an improving little bit of pro- 
 fessional practice-it was at this very moment, that a 
 tace, head, and shoulders, emerged from beneath the 
 water, and disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr 
 
 •• Keep yourself up for an instant— for only one in 
 Slant ! " bawled Mr. Snodgra.ss. ^ 
 
 m" y,*^'' ,'',° ' ,''" """ ""P'™'^ you-for my sake ! " roared 
 Mr. W ,nkle, deeply affected. The adjuration was rather 
 unnecessary ; the probability being, that if Mr. Pickwick 
 had declmed to keep himself up for anybody else's .sake. 
 It would have occurred to him that he might as well do so, 
 tor his own. * 
 
 ^■' Do you f^el the bottom there, old fellow?" said 
 
 ■'Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the 
 water from h,s head and face, and gasping for breath. « I 
 fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first " 
 
 vJ Kf^K ''°" '° '""* "*■ ^'- Pi'^kwick's coat as was 
 yet visible, bore testimony to the accuracv of this sfite 
 
 ment; and as the fears of the spectators' were still fur- 
 
THE PICKWICKIANS ON ICE. 
 
 33 ij 
 
 gies of valor were performed r,et hit o:^^^^^ 
 
 shawl round you. Mr. Pickwick ^" ''''^ '^'' 
 
 and when you ve got it on, run home as h.t .^ ' 
 legs can carry you and n.^.^ ;„, . Tf. ^'^'^ "^^ -^o"^ 
 A ^ , ; •• 'i" '"^" l^ed directly " 
 
 A dozen shawls were offered on the instanf- Ti 
 four of the thickest havincr K. , ^"'7^"^- Three or 
 
 uuuKesi; naving been se ected Mr P.vi-,,.; i 
 
 was wrapped up, and started off under t'hl ' 
 
 Mr. Weller : presentinp- thn , , ^ guidance of 
 
 his arms bound do J to 1*1", I "" ''"'' ''''^ 
 
 .;ound, without an, CeaH^J ' ^ratr ^ 
 of s.x good English miles an hour ' '^'^ 
 
 eiifca!::t:f u-::f -frsr^in^ t-^ - 
 
 the very top of his snee,l Ini t f"' ^"^ ^"P^ "' 
 
 Manor Far^, where Mr Tu an hi? ' '1"= '""' °' 
 minutes before, and had frigCed th o,d Th '•'""' ''" 
 pitations of the heart h„ ■ '"'*>' '"'° P^l- 
 
 terable con.i^JTZ'^I^Z'^Z::'' '"' ""^'- 
 -a calamity which always presemed ^ !f ' ™' .°" '' 
 colors to the old ladv', Z T u '•""^ '" glo«'ing 
 
 evinced the LalleTtt^trt;™' ^''" ''"''^'^ "''™' '^- 
 
 Mr P.ckwick paused not an instant nntil he was -. 
 .n bed. cam Weller lighted a blazing fi'e .^Ir^ 
 and took up his dinner, and afterwards T ' ""'• 
 
 was held in honor of his safety ^''"^' ""'"'"'"S 
 
t 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 nil 
 
 ! f' 
 
 ■,' I 
 
 
 iU' 
 
 Mi 
 
 Mi 
 
 
 336 
 
 77/£ ///t;// ^SCHOOL READER. 
 
 LXVII. THE HANGING OF THE CRANE. 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.— 1807-1882. 
 
 I. 
 
 The lights are out, and gone are all the guests 
 That thronging came with merriment and jests 
 
 To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane 
 In the new house,--into the night are gone ; 
 But still the fire upon the hearth burns on, 
 And I alone remain. 
 
 O fortunate, O happy day, 
 When a new household finds its place 
 Among the myriad homes of earth. 
 Like a new star just sprung to birth, 
 And roll'd on its harmonious way 
 Into the boundless realms of space ! 
 So said the guests in speech and song, 
 As in the chimney, burning bright, 
 We hung the iron crane to-night, 
 And merry was the feast and long. 
 
 II. 
 
 And now I sit and muse on what may be, 
 And in my vision see, or seem to see. 
 
 Through floating vapors interfused with light, 
 Shapes indeterminate, that gleam and tade. 
 As shadows passing into deeper shade 
 Sink and elude the sight. 
 
 For two alone, there in the hall, 
 
 Is spread the table round and small ; 
 
 Upon the polish'd silver shine 
 
 The evening la;r)ps, but, more divine, 
 
THE HANGING OF THE CRANE. 
 
 The light of love shines over all • 
 
 Of love, that says not mine and thine, 
 
 But ours, for ours is thine and mine. ' 
 
 They want no guests, to come between 
 
 Their tender glances like a screen, 
 
 And tell them tales of land and sea. 
 
 And whatsoever may betide 
 
 The great, forgotten world outside; 
 
 They want no guests ; they needs must be 
 
 Each other's own" best company. 
 
 III. 
 
 The picture fades ; as at a village fair 
 A showman's views, dissolving into air. 
 
 Again ajjpear transfigured on the screen, 
 So in my fancy this ; and now once more ' 
 In part transfigured, through the open door 
 Appears the selfsame scene. 
 
 Seated, I see the two again, 
 
 But not alone ; they entertain 
 
 A little angel unaware. 
 
 With face as round as is the moon ; 
 
 A royal guest with flaxen hair, 
 
 Who, throned upon his lofty chair, ' 
 
 Drums on the table with his spoon. 
 
 Then drops it careless on the floor,' 
 
 To grasp at things unseen before. 
 
 Are these celestial manners ? these 
 The ways that win, the arts that please ? 
 Ah yes ; consider well the guest. 
 And -vhatsoe'er he does seems best ; 
 He ruleth by the right divine 
 
 337 
 

 338 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Of helplessness, so lately born 
 In purple chambers of the morn, 
 As sovereign over thee and thine. 
 He speaketh not ; and yet there lies 
 A conversation in his eyes ; 
 The golden silence of the Greek, 
 The gravest wisdom of the wise. 
 Not spoken in language, but in looks 
 More legible than printed books, 
 As if he could but would not speak. 
 And now, C) monarch absolute, 
 Thy power is put to proof ; for, lo ! 
 Resistless, fathomless, and slow, 
 ■^I'he nurse comes rustling like the sea, 
 And pushes back thy chair and thee. 
 And so good night to King Canute. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As one who walking in a forest sees 
 
 A lovely Inndscajie througli th:; parted trees. 
 
 Then sees it not, for boughs that intervene ; 
 Or, as we see the moon sometimes reveal'd 
 Through drifting clouds, and then again conceal'd. 
 So I behold the scene. 
 
 f %M.i 
 
 ¥ I 
 
 Is \ 
 
 There are two guests at table now ; 
 The king, deposed and older grown, 
 No longer occupies the throne, — 
 ■^rhe crown is on his sister's brow ; 
 A Princess from the Fairy Isles, 
 The very pattern girl of girls, 
 All cover'd and embower'd in curls, 
 Rose-tinted from the Isle of I'lovvers, 
 And sailing with soft, silken sails 
 From far-off Dreamland into ours. 
 
 I 
 
THE HANGING^ OF THE CRANE. 
 
 Above their bowls with rims of blue 
 Four azure eyes of deeper hue 
 Are looking, dreamy with delight 
 Limpid as planets that emerge 
 Above the ocean's rounded verge 
 Soft-shining through the summer night 
 Steadfast they gaze, yet nothing see 
 Beyond the horizon of their bowls • 
 Nor care they for the world that rolls 
 With all its freight of troubled souls 
 IiMo the days that are to be. • 
 
 339 
 
 Again the tossing boughs shut out the scene 
 Again the drifting vapors intervene, 
 
 And the moon's pallid disk is hidden quite • 
 And now I see the table wider grown, ' 
 
 As round a pebble into water thrown ' 
 Dilates a ring of light. 
 
 I see the table wider grown, 
 I see it garlanded with guests, 
 As \i fair Ariadne's Crown 
 
 Out of the sky had fallen down- 
 Maidens within whose tender breasts 
 A thousand restless hopes and fears, 
 J^orth reaching to the coming years 
 Flutter awhile, then quiet lie, 
 Like timid birds that fain would fly 
 But do not dare to leave their nests •— 
 And youths, who in their strength elate 
 Challenge the van and front of fate, 
 Eager as champions to be 
 In the divine knight-errantry 
 Of youth, that travels sea and land 
 
340 
 
 f ( k 
 
 < ■ 1* 
 
 TN£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Seeking adventures, or pursues, 
 
 Through cities, and through solitudes 
 
 Frequented by the lyric Muse, 
 
 The phantom with the beckoning hand. 
 
 That still allures and still eludes. 
 
 O sweet illusions of the brain ! 
 
 sudden thrills of fire and frost ! 
 The world is bright while ye remain, 
 And dark and dead when ye are lost ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The meadow-brook, that seemeth to stand still, 
 Quickens its current as it nears the mill ; 
 
 And so the stream of Time that lingereth 
 In level places, and so dull appears, 
 Kuns with a swifter current as it nears 
 
 The glooiiiy mills of Death. 
 
 And now, like the magician's scroll, 
 That in the owner's keeping shrinks 
 With every wish he speaks or thinks, 
 Till the last wish consumes the whole, 
 The table dwindles, and again 
 
 1 see the two alone remain. 
 
 The crown of stars is broken in parts ; 
 Its jewels, brighter than the day, 
 Have one by one been stolen away 
 To shine in other homes and hearts. 
 One is a wanderer now afar 
 In Ceylon or in Zanzibar, 
 Or sunny regions of Cathay ; • 
 And one is in the boisterous camp 
 Mid clink of arms and horses' tramp, 
 And battle's terrible array, 
 I see the patient mother read, 
 
THE HANGING OF THE CRANE. 
 
 With aching heart, of wrecks that float 
 Disabled on those seas remote, 
 Or of some great heroic deed 
 On battle-fields, where thousands bleed 
 To lift one hero into fame. 
 Anxious she bends her graceful head 
 Above these chronicles of pain, 
 And trembles with a secret dread 
 Lest there among the drown'd or slain 
 She find the one beloved name. 
 
 341 
 
 VII. 
 
 After a day of cloud and wind and rain 
 Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again. 
 
 And, touching all the darksome woods with light 
 Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing, 
 1 hen like a ruby from the horizon's ring 
 Drops down into the night. 
 
 What see I now ? The night is fair, 
 The storm of grief, the clouds of care, 
 The wind, the rain, have pass'd away ; 
 The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright, 
 The house is full of life and light : 
 It is the Golden Wedding day. 
 The guests come thronging in once more, 
 Quick footsteps sound along the floor, 
 The trooping children crowd the stair,' 
 And in and out and everywhere 
 Flashes along the corridor 
 The sunshine of their golden hair. 
 
 On the round table in the hall 
 Another Ariadne's Crown 
 Out of the sky hath fallen down ; 
 More than one Monarch of the Moon 
 
 I 
 
sssr. 
 
 ) ' V 
 
 T//£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Is drumming with his silver spoon ; 
 The light of love shines over all. 
 
 O fortunate, O happy day ! 
 The peoi)le sing, the people say. 
 The ancient bridegroom and the hridc, 
 Smiling contented and serene, 
 Upon the blithe, bewildering scene, 
 Behold, well pleas'd, on every side 
 Their forms and features multiplied, 
 As the reflection of a ligjit 
 Between two burnish'd mirrors gleams,. 
 Or lamps upon a bridge at night 
 Stretch on and on before the sight, 
 Till the long vista endless seems. • 
 
 LXVIII. EARTHWORMS. 
 
 Charles Darwin— 1809-1882, 
 
 From The Formation of Vegetable Mould through the action op 
 
 Worms. 
 
 Worms have played a more important part in the his- 
 tory of the world than most persons would at first sup- 
 pose. In almost all humid countries they are extraordi- 
 narily numerous, and for their size possess great muscu- 
 lar power. In many parts of England a M^eight of more 
 than ten tons of dry earth annually passes through their 
 bodies and is brought to the surface on each acre of 
 land ; so that the whole superficial bed of vegetable 
 mould passes^ through their bodies in the course of every 
 few years. From the collapsing of the old burrows the 
 
EARTHIVORMS. 
 
 mould is in constant though .slow movement anH the 
 parfcles composin, it are thus rubbed toge^er By 
 hese means fresh surfaees arc continuallyl.posed o 
 the action of the carbonic acid in the son and of ,h! 
 humus-aci,ls which appear to be stil, mot el i nt „ 
 U^^e dccompos.t,on of rocks. The generation of tl^^ 
 humus-acds ,s probably hastened during the digest on 
 of e many half decayed leaves which «Lms crume 
 Thu the particles of earth, forming the superficial 
 ^nould are subjected to conditions eminently fa'vorab 
 for the, decomposition and disintegration. Moreover 
 the particles of the softer rocks suffer some amount of 
 mechanical trituration in the muscular giz.ards of worms 
 >n which small stones serve as mill-stones 
 
 Archaeologists ought to be grateful to worms, as they 
 protect and preserve for an indefinitely long peri;d ever^ 
 
 face of the land, by burying it beneath their castings 
 Thus, also, many elegant and curious tesselated pave- 
 ments and other ancient remains have been preserved • 
 hough no doubt the worms have in these cases been' 
 largely aided by earth washed and blown from the ad" 
 joining land, especially when culti ted. The old tesse 
 ated pavements have, however, often suffered by hav-'ng 
 subsided unequally from being unequally undermined by 
 the worms. Lven old massive walls may be undermined 
 r' ^"•'f ^ ^-d no building is in this respect safe un 
 ess the foundations lie six or seven feet beneath the sur- 
 face at a depth at which worms cannot work. It is pro- 
 
 fetnd r"''u'"°"°'"'^^ ^"^ '""-^ °'d walls' have 
 fal en down from having been undermined by worms 
 
 thH°""TTTu *' ^'°""'' '" ^" "''=«"<="' manner for 
 the growth of fibrous-rooted plants and for seedlings of 
 
344 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 n 
 
 all kinds. They periodically -xpose the mould to the 
 air, and sift it so that no stones .argcr than the particles 
 which they can swallow are left in it. They mingle the 
 whole intimately together, like a gardener who prepares 
 fine soil for his choicest plants. In this state it is well 
 fitted to retain moisture and to absorb all soluble sub- 
 stances, as well as for the process of nitrification. The 
 bones of dead animals, the harder parts of insects, the 
 shells of land-molluscs. leaves, twigs, etc., ..re before 
 long all buried beneath the accumulated castings of 
 worms, and arc thus brought in a more or less decayed 
 state within reach of the roots of plants. Worms like- 
 wise drag an infinite number of dead leaves and other 
 parts of plants into their burrows, partly for the sake of 
 plugging them up and partly as food. 
 
 The leaver which are dragged into the burrows as 
 food, after bemg torn into the finest shreds, partially di- 
 gested, and saturated with the intestinal secretions, arc 
 commingled with much earth. This earth forms' the 
 dark-colored, rich humus which almost everywhere 
 covers the surface of the land with a fairly well-defined 
 layer or mantle. Von Hensen placed two worms in a 
 vessel eighteen inches in dhmeter, which was filled with 
 sand, on which fallen leaves were strewed ; and these 
 were soon dragged into their burrows to a depth of three 
 inches. After about six weeks an almost uniform layer 
 of sand, a centimetre (.4 inch) in thickness, was conver- 
 ted into humus by having parsed through the alimentary 
 canals of these two worms. It is believed by some per- 
 sons that M^orm-burrows. which often penetrate the 
 ground almost perpendicularly to a depth of five or six 
 feet, materially aid in its drama o-o • no<^"MfUc.fo„^:^„ ^t.-^. 
 the viscid castings piled over the mouths of the burrows 
 
EARTHWORMS. 
 
 \ to the 
 particles 
 ngle the 
 )rcparcs 
 t is well 
 ble sub- 
 1. The 
 :cts, the 
 before 
 ings of 
 lecaycd 
 ns like- 
 d other 
 sake of 
 
 ows as 
 ally di- 
 5ns, arc 
 ms the 
 ywhere 
 defined 
 ns in a 
 id with 
 1 these 
 'f three 
 n layer 
 :onver- 
 entary 
 le per- 
 te the 
 or six 
 
 ig tjiat 
 
 arrows 
 
 345 
 
 prevent or check the rain-water directly entering them. 
 They allow the air to penetrate deeply into the ground. 
 Th(y also greatly facilita^^e the downward passage of 
 roots of moderate size ; and these will be nourished by 
 the humus with which the burrows are lined. Many 
 seeds owe their germination to having been covered by 
 castings ; and others buried to a considerable depth be- 
 neath accumulated castings lie dormant, until at some 
 future time they are accidentally uncovered and ger- 
 minate. 
 
 Worms are poorly provided with sense-organs, for 
 they cannot be said to see, although they can just dis- 
 tinguish, between light and darkness ; they are com- 
 pletely deaf, and have only a feeble power of smell ; the 
 sense of touch alone is well developed. They can therefore 
 lea^n little about the outside world, and it is surprising 
 that they should exhibit some skill in lining their bur- 
 rows with their castings and with leaves, and in the case 
 of some species in piling up their castings into tower-like 
 constructions. But it is far more surprising that they 
 should apparently exhibit some degree of intelligence 
 instead of a mere blind in-stinctivc impulse, in their man- 
 ner of plugging up the mouths of their burrows. They 
 act in nearly the same m.anner as would a man, who had 
 to close a cylindrical tube with different kinds of leaves, 
 petioles, triangles of paper, etc., for they commonly seize 
 such objects by their pointed ends. But with thin ob- 
 jects a certain number are drrwn in by their broader 
 ends. They do not act in the same unvarying manner 
 in all cases, as do most of the lower animals ; for in- 
 stance, they do not drag in leaves by their foot-stalks, 
 unless the basal part of the blade is as narrow as the 
 apex, or narrower than it. 
 
mmm 
 
 346 
 
 7//E KIGH SCHOOL KHADEN. 
 
 V'\ 
 
 When vvc behold a wide, turf-covcred expanse we 
 SOUK ^,er that its smoothness, on vv, •^r:;u:;^ 
 o! Its beauty depends, ,s mainly due to all the ineciuali 
 t.cs havu.,^ been slowly levelled by worms. It ila m a 
 
 over any such expanse has passed, and will ajrain diss 
 every few years, through the bodies of worm The 
 plough ,s one of the most ancient and most valuable of 
 man s mvent.ons ; but long before he ^-visted the and 
 was tn fact regularly ploughed, and still eontinu tl be 
 thus ploughed by earth-worms. It may be doubted 
 whether there .re many other animals hich have p^ d 
 so important a part in the history of the world, as have 
 these lowly organized creatures. 
 
 LXIX. "AS SHIPS, BECALMED AT EVE. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clou(;h.-,8i9-i86i. 
 As ships, becalm 'd at eve, that lay 
 
 With canvas drooping side by side, 
 Two towers of sail at dawn of day 
 
 Are scarce long leagues apart descried ; 
 
 When fell the night, upsprung the breeze 
 And all the darkling hours they plied ' 
 
 Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas' 
 By each was cleaving, side by side : 
 
 E'en so— but why the tale reveal 
 Of those, whom year by year unchanged, 
 
 Brief .-.bsencc joind anew to feel, 
 Astounded, soul from soul estranged ? 
 
DUTY. 
 
 At dfaci of night their sdls were fiil'd, 
 And onward each rejoicing steer'd— 
 
 Ah, neither Man.e, for neither will'd, 
 Or wist, wliat fust with dawn appear'd I 
 
 To veer, how vain ! On, onward strain, 
 Brave barks ! In hght, in darkness too, 
 
 Thro(i-!i winds and tides one -ornpass guides 
 To that, and }our own selves, be true. 
 
 But O blithe breeze ! and () great seas, 
 Though ne'er, that earliest parting past, 
 
 On your wide plain they join again, 
 1 ogether lead them home at last. 
 
 One port, methought, alike they sought, 
 One purpose hold wheie'er they fare, 
 
 O bounding breeze, O rushing seas ! 
 At last, at last, unite them there. 
 
 347 
 
 LXX. DUTY. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 Duty— that's to say, complying 
 
 VV' ith whate'er's expected here ; 
 On your unknown cousin's dying, 
 
 Straight be ready with the tear ; 
 Upon etiquette relying, 
 Unto usage nought denying, 
 Lend your waist to be embraced. 
 
 Blush not even, never fear ; 
 Claims of kith and kin connection. 
 
 Claims of manners honor still, 
 
348 
 
 ? f , 
 
 lit' 
 
 II! 
 
 , 1^^ 
 
 '^'^^ ^^GH SCHOOL READEIC- 
 
 J<eady money of afifection 
 ivf^^^'u'"^''^''^'"'^'"^'^^- the bill. 
 Wuh the fo,™ conforming duly 
 Senseless what it meaneth truly 
 
 Gotochurch-theworldr.c,uLyou 
 i o balls— the wnrlH r > • * 
 
 And your .sters and .choolfeliows da' 
 Duty-'tis to take on trust 
 
 Sf"n sturdy In-nhs that Nature gave ' 
 --^--aina.ath Chair aU't.,,^_ 
 
 Aimc questing and the guessing 
 
 Of he soul's own. ouUithinT 
 
 ^ IS th. coward acquiescence 
 in a destiny's behest, 
 
 ^o a shade by terror made, 
 Sacr^K-ing, aye, the essence 
 
 Ofall that's truest, noblest, best. 
 Tisthebhndnon-recognitK»; 
 
 sav'b; ™^^ r ';' ^^ '^'^"^^' 
 
 M. , M V ""^ ^"bmission ; 
 Moral blank, and moral void 
 
 Life at very birth destroy'd. ' 
 Atrophy, exinanition ' 
 Duty ! 
 
 Vea, by duty's prime condition 
 i^ure nonentity of duty 1 
 
 fi 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 349 
 
 LXXI. SONNETS. 
 
 •u, 
 
 : grave 
 
 Charles Heavysege.— 1816-1876. 
 
 I. 
 
 The day was lingering in the pale north-west, 
 
 And night was hanging o'er my head, — 
 
 Night where a myriad stars were spread ; 
 
 While down in the east, where the light was least, 
 
 Seem'd the home of the quiet dead. 
 
 And, as I gazed on the field sublime, 
 
 l"o watch the bright, pulsating stars, 
 
 Adown the deep where the angels sleep 
 
 Came drawn the golden chime 
 
 Of those great spheres that sound the years 
 
 For the horologe of time. 
 
 Millenniums numberless they told, 
 
 Millenniums a million-fold 
 
 From the ancient hour of prime. 
 
 II. 
 
 The stars are glittering in the frost) sky, 
 Frequent as pebbles on a broad sea-coast ; 
 And o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy 
 Has marshall'd its innumerable host. 
 Alive all heaven seems ! with wondrous glow 
 Tenfold refulgent every star appears, 
 As if some wide, cele? ial gale did blow, 
 And thrice illume the ever-kindled sj^heres. 
 Orbs, with glad orbs rejoicing, burning, beam, 
 Ray-crown'd, with lambent lustre in their zones, 
 Till o er the blue, bespangled spaces seem 
 Angels and great archangels on ^heir thrones ; 
 A host divine, whose eyes are sparkling gems. 
 And forms more bright than diamond diadems. 
 
f I 
 
 350 
 
 I^E HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 III. 
 
 ^ee in the western Hv f!, . ■ ^'^^"^^' 
 
 Suspended \n it n.it ''"""^^ '^J^'-^^^ > 
 
 I cu m It., pale, serene evnii,«a 
 Like scatter'd flames ,h„ 1 '^•'<P->n''e, 
 
 Clear are those col ""TT^ "'°"<"«' ^«'- 
 
 p;y 
 
 IXXIJ. 
 
 DOCTOR /.RNOLD AT RUGBY. 
 
 AKTriUR Pf.vrhvN Stvm-v o 
 
 whole .nana,c„,ent ,f \,Ts''L r''""^' ''" ^--'J ''- 
 ,-"d yoarly-i„orcasi„ 'e ^i : r.,"" ''^ -"'y-^'n^ed 
 '°"k for, boU, intcllcaua ; a ,"" '"^f " ''^'' '- ^ad to 
 ™-ce but pro„,i,se ; tha L rv fr" h''' "'" ""' '^"'■°'- 
 d-'ce of school hTe, which nisjf if"™ ''"'' ""''^P™- 
 «"-^, might be „,.,:. the be V n '"°"»*' ■^'"'•■•"Ser- 
 
 •;'ani,ood ; and he did not h!-, ,i l?'"'"'"" '""'' ^^'"^^^--^ 
 'he principle whichseemc "o H ? T '^ '" '^'■^ -^^-''"'ars 
 ■" tl>e trainin.. ,, ,,, f" ''™ '" have been adopt-d 
 
 ■' "'^ '^'"'^"-^ «f the human tae 
 
Jroiound, 
 
 pride, 
 
 ^\'hat he 
 ascd liis 
 -f<Jrmed 
 had to 
 pcrfor- 
 idepcn- 
 !aii<Ter- 
 
 nstian 
 
 liolars 
 
 ! op ted 
 
 race 
 
 I^OCTO/^ AnmiD AT RUGBY. 35, 
 
 itself. He shrunk from pressing on the conscience of 
 abl^t: b" 'fr "'^^' '^ '''' '"^^y were n t"ye 
 
 rtht -n r''"f "'"""^ ^^^'°"^ which, though 
 
 nght in themselves, would in boys be oerforml^ f 
 
 .sequences of the failure of this trial, still it was his srreaf 
 sometimes his only support to believe that "the c^fac er 
 
 nessTan T'^ '"'' '''"'' '° ^ ^^^'^ beaut/ anW 
 nessthan It ever can attain without endurin.r and wit 
 
 ness,ng them. Our work here would be absolutely^ " 
 endurable if we did not bear in mind that we shou, J 
 look forward as well as backward-if we did not re 
 ..ember that the victory of fallen man lies nol i," i „ o 
 cence but ,n tried virtue." " I hold fast," he sJd "t h^ 
 great truth, that . ble.ssed is he that ovrcomeh • ''and 
 he wntes „, ,S,r : " Of all the painful things o^nee "e^ 
 v.th my employment, nothing is equal to the orief rf 
 seeM,g a boy come to school innocent and promis.W and 
 
 I'nTo' tt :°'''"r;°" "' ''' ^''^™^'- ^'- ^^ 
 
 ence of the temptations around him, in the very place 
 wh,ch ought to have strengthened and improved i^ B« 
 n most eases those who come with a character of po 
 
 characters which are apt to be decided for evil by schools 
 as they w„ul,l be in fact by any other temptation ■' 
 But this very feeling led him with the greater eagerness 
 to catch at eveo' «-a„s by which the trial might bf short 
 
 TalrH r'f '■ T" "" ^"""^"^ f-- childhooc 'o 
 manhood be hastened, without prematurely exhausting 
 the faculties of body or mind ? » was one of the chief 
 questions on which his mind was constantly at work and 
 uh,ch u, the judgment of some he was disposed to answer 
 too readdy in the affirmative. It was' with the eider boyT 
 
352 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 f! 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 of course, that he chfefly acted on this principle but with 
 al above te veo; young ones he truLd to i't mo I or 
 
 T. J'7'l T "^ '^^"'=™'' 'hat a time of trial was in- 
 ev, table, he believed no less firmly that it might be pa sed 
 at pubhc schools ooner than under other cifcum tances 
 and, m proportion as he disliked the assumpTion of a 
 
 ^ r rniL'-; - ^\ '--^ - -'--•: 
 
 ..her ad ,„ ,"- ^ "t:^ ^^ .^ - 
 
 thoughtfulness, as the m-caf anr^ .^,•e? • u- '^"^ "^^^^^^ 
 f,.r« J T ^' ^"^ aistinguishmsf mark be- 
 
 u nun, or treating the boys as gentlemen anH 
 reasonable beings, of making them resp^ect h^mserves 
 by the mere respect he showed to them • r.( ^^"^^ 
 that he appealed and trusted to il ^v n^'oml Tsf 
 m,d conscience. Lying, for example, to the masters he 
 
 Tuliar''' Tr-- P'-"g -P'icit confidence 
 in a boy s assertion.and then, if a falsehood was discovered 
 pun,shmgit severely,_in the upper part of .1^ Xot 
 when persisted in, wi^h expulsion Even with the owe 
 forms he never seemed to be on the watch for b^-s Z 
 .n the h,gher forms any attempt at further proof of anTs 
 serfonwas immediately checked : " ,f you say so that" 
 s quite enough-./ ..,„, , believe your word - and 
 there grew up in consequence a general feel ng that"' 
 
 i-erhaps the liveliest representation of this .General 
 sp.nt, as distinguished from its exemplification tn plr 
 
 D^ i.caWin^ his manner, as lie appeared m the 
 
DOCTOR ARXOLD AT RUGBY. 
 
 pie, but with 
 
 it more or 
 trial was in- 
 ht be passed 
 :umstances; 
 nption of a 
 cultivate in 
 
 something 
 and moral 
 g mark be- 
 as much as 
 lothing for 
 5 own deli- 
 powerfully 
 emcn and 
 themselves 
 f showing 
 mon sense 
 lasters, he 
 confidence 
 liscovered, 
 he school, 
 the lower 
 'oys ; and 
 ' of an as- 
 y so, that 
 id ;" and 
 r that " it 
 ;ves one." 
 5 general 
 
 1 in par- 
 v'ould be 
 d in the 
 
 353 
 great school, where the boys used fn n...f u 
 
 or on the more specia emergencies wh.VK • u. ' 
 
 m nimsclf of the same great institution, whose charar 
 ter and reputation they had to sustain as well as he He 
 would dwell on the satisfaction he had in b ing h 'ad of 
 a ocety, where noble and honorable feelings leretn 
 couraged, or on the disgrace which he felt in hear L "f 
 acts of d,sorder or violence, such as in the hu„-.ber ranks 
 
 counfrv"" ""'" "^^ ^""^"^^"= '° '^-^ laws of X 
 r 7 ' "^^'"' °" *" "■"=' ^-hich he placed in 
 
 the.r honor as gentlemen, and the baseness of !n • 
 stance in which it wa. abused " Is h.^a Ch w'"" 
 school P" he indignantly asked at the n f o„e o tW 
 
 pUvTft'd'ft'* ""^ "^'^ P""^^" °f- extensivldt 
 " eal f '^=^''"gj""°"gst the boys ; and then added - 
 
 I cannot remam here if all this is to be r;,rr;^H I 
 constraint and force ; if I am to be here a! a ilTer I I 
 resign my office at once." And few sc es n beTl 
 corded more characteristic of him than on one of theTe" 
 occasions, vv-hen, in consequence of a disturbance he had 
 
 ™-dr r ^Lr? -^ " ^°- and whe'n ■: the 
 V J ,. """^^ s^"^'^^^ spirit of discontent which this pv 
 
 ^^^^^ f ''-' '-'-' ^'^ assembleVsroi; 
 TAu u V r' "^^^^^^^y that this should be a schoo 
 of three hundred, or one hundred, or of fifty boys bu 
 It zs necessary that it should b^ - -rhn-' '- °, -' 
 gentlemen." " ^ ^'^^^"^ "^ V^hristian 
 
 W 
 
354 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 \\ • 
 
 |H:'f 
 
 
 I 
 
 '? 
 If 
 
 ili 
 
 LXXIII. ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND. 
 
 Charles Kingsley.— 1819-1875. 
 
 Wp:lcome, wild North-easter ! 
 
 Shame it is to see 
 Odes to every zephyr ; 
 
 Ne'er a verse to thee. 
 Welcome, black North-easter r 
 
 O'er the German foam ; 
 O'er tht Danish moorlands, 
 
 From thy frozen home. 
 Tired we arc of summer, 
 
 Tired of gaudy glare, 
 Showers soft and steaming, 
 
 Hot and breathless air. 
 Tired of listless dreaming 
 Through the lazy day • 
 Jovial wind of winter 
 
 Turns us out to play ! 
 Sweep the golden reed-beds 
 
 Crisp the lazy dyke ; 
 Hunger into madness 
 
 Every plunging pike. 
 Fill the lake with wild-fowl , 
 Fill the marsh with snipe ; 
 While on dreary moorlands 
 
 Lonely curlew pipe. 
 Through the black fir-forest 
 
 Thunder harsh and dry. 
 Shattering down the snow-flakes 
 
 Off the curdled sky. 
 Hark ! I'he brave North-easter 1 
 Breast-high lies the scent, 
 
OnE TO THE NORTH-EAST IVlNf, 
 
 On by holt and headland, 
 
 Over heath and bent. 
 Chime, ye dapjjled darlinj^s 
 
 I hrough the sleet and snow 
 H ho can over-ride you ? 
 
 I-et the horses go ! 
 Chime, ye dapj)Ied darlings 
 
 Down the roanng blast:' 
 Vou shall see a fox d\Q 
 
 Ere an hour be past. 
 Oo! and rest to-norrow, 
 
 Hunting in your dreams, 
 While our sk.^^s are ringu.g 
 
 Oer the frozen streams. 
 Let the luscious South-wind 
 
 Breathe in lovers' sighs 
 While the lazy gallants 
 Bask in ladies' eyes 
 What does he but soften 
 ^ Heart alike and ])en ? 
 'Tis the hard grey weather 
 
 Breeds hard English men. 
 H hat's the soft South-wester ? 
 
 'Tis the ladies' breeze, 
 Bringing home their true-loves 
 
 Out of all the seas. 
 But the black North-easter 
 
 Through fh,, cnovv-storm'hurl'd 
 
 Drives our English hearts of oak' 
 
 Seaward round the world. 
 Come, as came our fathers, 
 
 Heralded by thee. 
 Conquering from the eastward, 
 
 Lordt; by land and sea. 
 
 3SS 
 
356 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Ifc' 
 
 Come ; and strong within us 
 Stir the Vikings' blood, 
 
 Bracing brain and sinew; 
 Blow, thou wind of God ! 
 
 LXXIV. FROM '<THE MILL ON THE FLOSS." 
 
 hi 
 
 W- 
 
 Georgk ]':i.iot.— 1820-1880. 
 
 The next morning Maggie was trotting with her own 
 fishing-rod in one hand and a handle of thcJDaskct in tlie 
 other, stepping always, by a peculiar gift, in the muddiest 
 places, and looking darkly radiant from under her beaver 
 bonnet because Tom was good to her. She had told 
 Tom, however, that she should like him to put the worms 
 on the hook for her, although she accepted his word when 
 he assured her that worms couldn't feel (it was Tom's 
 private opinion that it didn't much matter if they did). 
 He knew all about worms, and fish, and those things ; 
 and what birds were mischievous, and how padlocks 
 opened, and which way the handles of the gates were to 
 be lifted. Maggie thought this sort of knowledge was 
 very wonderful— much more difficult than remembering 
 what was in the books ; and she was rather in awe of 
 Tom's superiority, for he was the only person who called 
 her knowledge " stuff," and did not feel surprised at her 
 cleverness. Tom., indeed, was of opinion that Maggie 
 was a silly little thing ; all girls were silly : they couldn't 
 throw a stone so as to hit an} thing, couldn't do anything 
 with a pocket-knife, and were frightened ^t frogs. Still 
 he was very fond of his sister, and meant always to take 
 
PI^OM ^^THK MILL ON THE FLOSS>^ 357 
 
 care of her, make her his housekeeoer anrl ,., • u . 
 ^vhen she did wrong ^ ' ^ ^""''^ ^^^' 
 
 Tol' , , ' '^'■"'■"'^ ■'^1"" ^l^™y» heightened 
 
 Tom s good-humor, and he spoke to Maggie in the mo^t 
 
 am,able wl,isper,s, as he opened the preaous ba ket a"d 
 cpared their tackle. He threw her hne for her ad 
 
 ones to T I '"";''' ""■"" '° ''^^ hook, and the large 
 
 ones to Ton, s. But she had forgotten all about the fisi 
 and was look ngdrea,nil, at the glassy water, :h „ xtm 
 sa.d, m a loud whisper, " Look ! look, Maggie I" and cam. 
 ru.n,„,g to prevent her from snatching her', ne :X 
 
 Magg,e was fnghtened lest .he had been doing some- 
 h,ng wrong, as usual, but presently Tom Irew n.^M 
 l.nc and brought a large tench bouncing on Th! gras 
 Tom was excited. ^ 
 
 M3 Magsie ! you little duck ! Empty the basket." 
 
 wiers and thT T "°*'?^ '° "^^ '"=^ ''^"^''t in the 
 ,\Tv Z V ""'"^ "''^"'='=^' *'>cn she listened to 
 
 ^^t Tl ■™","'^ °' *^ "^'"S «^h, and the gent : 
 rus 1 ng a., ,f the willows, and the reeds, and the water 
 had their happy whisperings alsa Maggie thougTt 
 would make a very nice heaven tn »,> K^T.^ do • "f , 
 
 way, and never be 'scolded <^l,.' Z~ "' i ^ ? ' "' 
 ku <.ii -.. scoiaea. bhe never knew she had a 
 
 btte tdl lorn told her, but she liked fishing very mud. 
 
 
3S« 
 
 THr: HJGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 f f 
 
 pf i ')? 
 
 Lli 
 
 It was one of their happy mornings. They trotted 
 alonjT and sat down together, with no thought that life 
 would ever change mu( h for them : they would only get 
 bigger and nf)t go to :ichool, and it would always be like 
 the holidays ; they would always live together and be 
 fond of each other. And the mill witli its booming— the 
 great chestnut-tree under which they played at houses— 
 their own little river, the Ripple, where the banks seemed 
 like home, and Tom was always seeing the water-rats, 
 while Maggie gathered the purple plumy tops of the 
 reeds, which she forgot and dropped afterward — above 
 all, the great Floss, along which they wandered with a 
 sense of travel, to see the rushing spring-tide, the awful 
 Eagre, come up like a hungry monster, or to see the 
 Great Ash which had once wailed and groaned like a 
 man — these things would always be just the same to 
 them. Tom thought people were at a disadvantage who 
 lived on any other spot of the globe ; and Maggie, when 
 she read about Christiana passing " the river over which 
 there is no bridge," always saw the Floss between the 
 green pastures by the Great Ash. 
 
 Life did change for Tom and Maggie ; and yet they 
 were not wrong in believing that the thoughts and loves 
 of these first years would always make part of their lives. 
 We could never have loved the earth so well if we had 
 had no childhood in it — if it were not he earth where 
 the same flowers come up again every spring that we 
 used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to 
 ourselves on the grass — the same hips and haws on the 
 autumn hedgerows — the same red-breasts that we used 
 to call '• God's birds," because they did no harm to the 
 precious crops. What novelty is worth that sweet mono- 
 tony where everything is known, and loved because it is 
 known ? 
 
THE CLOUD CONFINES, ,-, 
 
 The wood I walk fn on this mil<- May day, vuth the 
 young yellow-brown foliage of the o ,ks between n.e and 
 the blue sky the white star-flower., and the blue-oycd 
 speeduelUnd th. ground-ivy at my fect-wliat grove of 
 tropic palms, what stranje ferns or sp'endid bro '-p,.taled 
 blossoms, coulu ever tlinll such deep and delicate fibres 
 w,thm me as this home-see -e? These familiar flowers 
 these well -remembered bird-notes, this sky with its fitful 
 brightness, these f.rrowed and grassy fields, .ach with a 
 sort of pcrsonalif^• given to it by the capricious hedge- 
 rovvs- such things as these are the mother tongue of our 
 imagination, the language tl at is laden with all the subtle 
 inextricable associations the fleeting hour f our child- 
 hood left uchmd them. Our delight in the sunshine on 
 the deep-bladed grass to-day might be no more than the 
 famt perception of wearied souls, if it were not for the 
 sunshme and the grass in the far-off years, which still live 
 in us, and transform our percep Jon into love 
 
 LXXV. THE CLOUD CONFINES. 
 
 Dan Gabriel Rossetti.— 1828-10 
 
 The day is dark and the night 
 
 To him that would search their he. 
 No lips of cloud that will part 
 
 Nor morning s ng in the light : 
 Only, gazing alone, 
 To him wild shadows are shov-'" 
 Deep under deep unknown 
 
 And heigliL above unknown height. 
 
360 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 liii i 
 
 'I' 
 
 Still we say as we go, — 
 
 "Strange to think by the way, 
 
 Whatever there is to know, 
 That shall we know one day." 
 
 The Past is over and fled ; 
 
 Named new, we name it the old ; 
 'Jhereof some tale hath been t(jld. 
 But no word comes from the dead ; 
 Whether at all they l)e, 
 Or whether as bond or free, 
 Or whether they too were we, 
 Or by what spell they have sped. 
 Still we say as we go, — 
 
 " Strange to think by the way, 
 Whatever there is to know, 
 I'hat shall we know one day." 
 
 What of the heart of hate 
 
 That beats in thy breast, O Time?— 
 Red strife from the furthest prime, 
 And an.guish of fierce debate ; 
 )\'ar that sliatters her slain. 
 And ])eace that grinds them as grain. 
 And eyes fix'd ever in vain 
 On the pitiless eyes of Fate. 
 
 Still we say as we go, — 
 
 " Strange to think by the way. 
 Whatever there is to know, 
 That shall we know one day." 
 
 What of the heart of love 
 
 That bleeds in thy breast, O Man ?— 
 Thy kisses snaich'd 'neath the ban 
 
 Of fang-^ that mock them above ; 
 
Thy l>ell.s pn,Iong'd mito kndls, 
 1 hy hope, that a breath dispels. 
 1 1'y bitter forlorn farewells 
 And the empty echoes thereof? 
 Still we say as we go,— 
 
 ''Strange to think 'l,y the way, 
 \\ hatever there is to know, 
 
 'i'hat shall we know one day." 
 
 'i'he sky leans dumb on the sea, 
 Aweary with all its wings ; 
 
 And oh! the song the sea sings 
 is (lark everlastingly. 
 
 Our j)ast is clean forgot, 
 Our ])resent is and is not, 
 C)ur futures a seal'd seedplot. 
 And what betwixt them are we ?- 
 ^Ve who say as we go,— 
 
 " Strange to think by the Vav, 
 \Miatever there is to know, ' 
 'I'liat shall we know one'day." 
 
 361 
 
 LXXVI. BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 
 
 John (Jkkenleak WHnTiKK._r8o7- 
 
 Vi' from the meadows rich with corn 
 Clear m the cool Sei)tember morn. 
 
 The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand 
 Oreen-wall'd by the hills of r ' 
 
 II 
 
:'! 
 
 ! I 
 
 •iij 
 
 ' .1 
 
 ' 'Mi; 
 
 ill;* 
 
 
 
 362 rJ/£ HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Fair as a garden of the Lord 
 
 To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde, 
 
 On that pleasant morn of the early fall 
 When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,- 
 
 Over the mountains winding down, 
 Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 
 
 Forty flags with their silver stars, 
 I'orty flags with their crimson bars, 
 
 MapiVd in the morning wind : the sun 
 Of noon look'd down, and saw not one. 
 
 Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, 
 Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten ; 
 
 Bravest of all in Frederick town, 
 
 She took up the flag the men haul'd down ; 
 
 In her attic-window the staff she set, 
 To show that one heart was loyal yet. 
 
 Up the street came the rebel tread, 
 Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. 
 
 Under his slouch'd hat left and right 
 He glanced : the old flag met his sight. 
 
 " Halt ! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 
 " Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle-blast. 
 
 It shiver'd the window, pane and sash ; 
 It rent the banner with seam and gash. 
 
 Quirk, ns it fell, from the broken staff 
 Dame liarbara snatch'd the silken scarf ; 
 
BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 
 
 She lean'd far out on the window-sill, 
 And shook it forth with a royal will. ' 
 
 " Shoot, if you must, this old grey head, 
 But spare your country's flag !." she said. 
 
 A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, 
 Over the face of the leader came ; 
 
 The nobler nature within him stirr'd 
 To life at that woman's deed and word : 
 
 " Who touches a hair of yon grey head. 
 Dies like a dog ! March on ! " he said! 
 
 All day long through Frederick street 
 Sounded the tread of marching feet : 
 
 All day long that free flag toss'd 
 Over the heads of the rebel host. 
 
 Ever its torn folds rose and fell 
 
 On the loyal winds that lov'd it well ; 
 
 And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
 Shone over it with a warm good-night. 
 
 Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 
 
 And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. 
 
 Honor to her ! and let a tear 
 
 Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 
 
 Over Barbara Frietchie's grave. 
 Flag of Freedom and Union, wave I 
 
 363 
 
3^4 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Peace and order and l)eauty draw 
 Round thy symbol of light and law ; 
 
 And ever the stars above look down 
 On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 
 
 ^|ii 
 
 li.n 
 
 $ 
 
 II 
 
 !l 
 
 V f I 
 
 4 1 
 
 LXXVII. CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Olivf.k Wenuki.l Holmes.— i8oq- 
 ' ' Mull wants hut little kere beLfUf, 
 
 Little I ask ; my wants are few ; 
 
 I only wish a hut of stone, 
 (A vety plain brown stone will do,) 
 
 'I'hat I may call my own ; - 
 And close at hand is such a one, 
 In yonder street that fronts the sun. 
 
 Plain food is quite enough for me ; 
 
 Three courses are as good as ten ; — 
 If Nature can subsist on three, 
 
 Thank Heaven for three. Amen ! 
 I alwavs thought cold victual nice ; — 
 My choice would be vanilla-ice. 
 
 1 care not much for gold or land ;— 
 (iive me a mortgage here and there, — 
 
 Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, 
 Or trifling railroad share, — 
 
 I only ask that Fortune send 
 
 A iiiiie luorc than I shall spend. 
 
CONTENTMENT, 
 
 Honors are silly toys, I know, 
 And titles are but emj)ty names ; 
 
 I \\o\x\^}i, perhaps, be Plenipo,— 
 But only near St. James ; 
 
 I'm very sure I should not care 
 
 To fill our Gubernator's chair. 
 
 Jewels are baubles ; 'tis a sin 
 
 To care for such unfruitful things ; 
 
 One good-sized diamond in a pin,— 
 Some, )iot so /ar^e, in rings, — 
 
 A ruby, and a pearl, or so, 
 
 \\\\\ do for me ,~-l laugh at show. 
 
 My dame should dress in cheap attire ; 
 
 (( iood, heavy silks are never dear ;)— 
 I own perhaps I might desire 
 
 mmQ shawls of true Cashmere,— 
 Some marrowy crapes of China silk. 
 Like wriaakled skins on scalded milk. 
 
 I would n(A ira^'tr the horse I drive 
 So fast that folks must stop and stare : 
 
 An easy gait —two, forty-five— 
 Suits me ; I do not care,— 
 
 i'erha|)s for just a sing/e spurt, 
 
 Some seconds less would do no hurt. 
 
 Of pictures I shou d like to own 
 Titians and Rajjhaels three or four,— 
 
 I love so much their style and tone. 
 One Turner, and no more, 
 
 (A landscape, -foreground golden dirt,- 
 
 The sunshine pamtcd with a squirt.) 
 
 36s 
 
 : <1l 
 
 Ul 
 
 w 
 
■'1 
 
 ; J 
 
 366 7y/£" ///6^// SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Of books but few, — some fifty score 
 For daily use, and l)ound for wear ; 
 
 The rest upon an upper floor; — • 
 Some little luxury there 
 
 Of red morocco's gilded gleam, 
 
 And vellum rich as country cream. 
 
 Busts, camei , gems, — such things as these, 
 Which others often show for pride, 
 
 /value for their power to please, 
 And selfish churls deride ; — 
 
 One Stradivari Lis, 1 confess. 
 
 Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess. 
 
 Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn, 
 Nor ape the glittering upstart fool ; — 
 
 Shall not carv'd tables serve my turn, 
 But all nmst be of buhl ? 
 
 Give grasping pomp its double share, — 
 
 I ask but one recumbent chair. 
 
 Thus humble let me live and die. 
 Nor long for Midas' golden touch ; 
 
 If Heaven more generous gifts deny, 
 I shall not miss them nnichy — 
 
 Too grateful for the blessing lent 
 
 Of simple tastes and mind content. 
 
 
 Floiver in the crannied walt^ 
 I pluck you out of the crannies ; — 
 Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
 Little flower — but if I could understand 
 What you an' root and all, and all in all, 
 I should know ivhat God and man is. 
 
 Tennyson 
 
THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 
 LXXVIII. THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 
 
 367 
 
 The Right Hon. Wh.uam Ewakt G..ostonk.-.8o9- 
 Frmi Km Bevond Sea. 
 The Constitution has not been tl,^ r,ffi, • 
 thought of man. The Cabinet and all tt"""^ "^ "'^ 
 ■ations of the Constitutional powers! l"^^"" "" 
 grown into their present diLnsion , a d : tt 'd im: 
 the.r present places, not as the fruit of a nWI , 
 jn the effort .0 give effeet to an attr cVp S^; Z 
 
 s perhaps t^r' "^"'"^ ""= "^" °^ '"' *<= *-". It 
 
 ;oiir,Torit; xi rrz r^ ^" "-. '^^ ^^^^^ 
 
 like the tet^ple o^ Jerus^alem '""' "'"°"' "°'^^' 
 
 •■ No workman sleoi, „„ p„„derous hammer, r-ng • 
 L.ke some tall p,ln, tl,o statoly fabric sprung." 
 
 When men repeat the proverb which teaches us th=.r 
 marnages are made in heaven," what they mea„ I that 
 in the most fundamental of aii • i ' 
 
 building up of the f'mni th °P"""'°"'^' ""= 
 
 fe »v ui toe i^mily, the issues nvolved I'n fh^ 
 
 nupfal contract, lie beyond the best exerci "f ^ it 
 
 ~'ar *!,"r^" '""^'^'^^ of providential govern 
 ment make good the defect in our imperfect caoacTtv 
 Ev^n .so would it seem to have been in that euriousmar' 
 
 St tL"""'''"^ f '"-""^^ ^"'^ p°--' which Lri 
 
 about the composite harmony of the British Constitution 
 More, ,t must be admitted, than any other it le ve " 
 doors which lead into blind allevs (nX ^" 
 
 boldly tnan any other, ^ ^Hi^ t^::::^^^') 
 U^ose who work it. I, unhappily, these perCgerl, 
 
368 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 \v 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 
 I 
 
 \.\ f 
 
 Hill 
 
 i I 
 
 together, on the great arena of a nation's fortunes, as 
 jockeys meet upon a racecourse, each to urge to the 
 uttermost, as against the others, the power of the animal 
 he rides; or as counsel in a court, each to procure the' 
 victory of his client, without respect to any other interest 
 •or right : then this boasted Constitution of ours is neither 
 more nor less than a heap of absurdities. The undoubted 
 competency of each reaches even to the paralysis or de- 
 struction of the rest. The House of Commons is entitled 
 to refuse every shilling of the .Supplies. That House, 
 and also the House of Lords, is entitled to refuse its 
 assent to every Bill presented to it. The Crown is en- 
 titled to make a thousand Peers to-day, and as many to- 
 morrow : it may dissolve all and every Parliament before 
 it proceeds to business ; may pardon the most atrocious 
 crimes ; may declare war against all the world ; may 
 conclude treaties involving unlimited responsibilities, and 
 even vast expenditure, without the consent, nay without 
 the knowledge, of Parliament, and this not merely in 
 support or in development, but in reversal, of policy al- 
 ready known to and sanctioned by the nation. But the 
 assumption is that the depositaries of power will all re- 
 spect one another ; will evince a consciousness that they 
 are working in a common interest for a common end ; 
 that they will be possessed, together with not less than 
 an average intelligence, of not less than an average sense 
 of equity and of the public interest and rights. When 
 these reasonable expectations fail, then, it must be ad- 
 mitted, the British Constitution will be in daiiger. 
 
 Apart from such contingencies, the offspring only of 
 folly or of crime, this Constitution is peculiarly liable to 
 subtle change. Not only in the long-run, as man changes 
 between youth and age, but also, like the human body, 
 
THE BRJTISH CONSTirUriON. jg 
 
 With a quotidian life, a periodical recurrence of ebbing 
 and flowng tides. Its old particles daily run to wa te 
 
 '^itzxi ?-f'^°p<=''-4"si:rt 
 
 vnicn Has usually been found, that evils will become 
 payable before they have grown to be intolerable 
 
 Meantime, we of this island are not great pol ti^al 
 philosophers ; and we contend with an earnest bu d s 
 
 tribmion of P ■ ' "" °' "' ™''"S'^' °^ "-• -'- 
 
 tnbution of Parliamentary seats, neglecting wholly other 
 
 rXTart t^h-r '"■"'^ "^"-"^ *et2cran: 
 tne dark but which are even more fertile of Treat 
 
 tr«h C • ;'.'^'"°''^™ ^"^''^ character refl 
 dox tf^-t """°" '" *'■»' "'^' '•' ''b"""* in para, 
 
 dox , that .t possesses every strength, but holds it tainted 
 with every weakness ; that it seems alternately bo h to 
 nse above and to fall below the standard o Z^° 
 
 t^rrsrtr:;r5c::\ir"-4 
 
 much default, and much transgression, the people of this 
 United Kingdom either have heretofore establ^hed o 
 
 the ch^Wren^f"'''"'? ■ ''T ''"" '° "" -^oneramlg 
 he children of men. for the eldest born of an imperia! 
 
 // fortifies my soul to knotv 
 That, though I perish. Truth is so: 
 That, hoivsoe'er I stray and range, 
 Whatever I do, Thou ''dost not change 
 ^steadier. • • 
 
 / 
 
 step 7vhen I recall 
 
 Thai, if j s/tp Thou dost not fa II 
 
 Akthuk Hugh Cluuoh. 
 
370 
 
 t . 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 LXXIX. THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. 
 
 Lord Tknnyson. — i8og- 
 
 In her ear he whispers gayly, 
 
 " If my heart by signs can tell, 
 Maiden, I have watch'd thee daih', 
 
 And I think thou lov'st me well. " 
 She replies, in accents fainter, 
 
 "There is none I love like thee." 
 He is but a landscape-i)ainter, 
 
 And a village maiden she. 
 He to lips, that fondly falter, 
 
 Presses his without reproof: 
 Leads her to the village altar, 
 
 And they leave her father's roof. 
 *' 1 can make no marriage i)resent ; 
 
 Little can I give my wife. 
 Love will make our cottage jxleasant, 
 
 And I love thee more than life." 
 'J'hey by parks and lodges going 
 
 See the lordly castles stand : 
 Sunmier woods, about them blowing, 
 
 Made a murmur in the land. 
 From deep thought himself he rouses, 
 
 Says to her that loves him well, 
 "Let us see these handsome houses 
 
 Where the wealthy nol)les dwell." 
 So she goes by him attended, 
 
 Hears him lovingly (-onverse, 
 Sees whatever fiiir and splendid 
 
 Lay betwixt his home and hers ; 
 Parks with oak and chestnut shady, 
 
 Parks and order'd gardens great, 
 
 Ancient homes of lord and 
 
 ladv, 
 
 Built for pleasure and for state. 
 
THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. 
 
 All he shows her makes him dearer • 
 
 lu'crmore she seems to gaze 
 On that cottage growing nearer, 
 
 U here they twain will spend their days. 
 O but she will Jove him truly I ^ 
 
 He shall have a cheerful home • • 
 'She will order all things duly 
 
 ^ ^^'l^;-'n beneath his roof they come. 
 ' bus her licart rejoices greatly, 
 
 1 111 a gateway she discerns 
 \Vith armorial hearings stately. 
 
 And beneath the gate she turns; 
 ^ees a mansion more majestic 
 
 'i'han all those she saw before • 
 Many a gallant gay domestic 
 
 Bows before him at the door. 
 
 And they speak in gentle murmur 
 
 When they answer to his call 
 U^i.le he treads with footsteps firmer 
 
 i^oadmg on from hall to hall 
 And, while now she wonders blindly 
 Nor the meaning can divine, ' 
 ^^"^;y turns he round and kindly, 
 All of this is mine and thine " 
 Here he lives in state and bounty 
 Lord of liurleigh, fair and free. 
 Not a lord in all the county 
 
 Is so great a lord as he. 
 All at once the color flushes 
 
 Her sweet face from brow to chin • 
 As It were with shame she blushes 
 And her spirit changed within. ' 
 i hen her countenance all over 
 
 Pale again as death did prove • 
 But he clasp'd her like a lover 
 And he cheer'd her soul witn love 
 
 371 
 
 Ml 
 
 \\'t 
 
 ITi 
 
ill 
 
 !<«!I>MMMM 
 
 372 
 
 I i 
 
 ( : 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 T///-: HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 So she strove against her weakness, 
 
 Tho' at times her spirits sank : 
 Shai)ed her heart with woman's meekness 
 
 To all duties of her rank : 
 And a gentle consort made he, 
 
 And her gentle mind was such 
 That she grew a noble lady, 
 
 And tho people lov'd her much. 
 But a trouble weigh'd upon her, 
 
 And perplex'd her, night and morn, 
 \\'\i\\ the burden of an honor 
 
 Unto which she was not born. 
 Faint she grew, and ever fointer, 
 
 As she murmur d, "O, that he 
 Were once more that landscape-painter, 
 
 Which did win my heart from me!" 
 So she droop'd and droop'd before him, 
 
 Fading slowly from his side : 
 'I'hree fair children first she bore hmi, 
 
 Then before her time she died. 
 A\'eeping, weeping late and early, 
 
 Walking up and pacing down, 
 Deeply mourn'd the I-ord of Burleigh, 
 
 Burleigh-house by Stamford-town. 
 And he came to look upon her, 
 
 And he look'd at her and said, 
 " Bring the dress and put it on her, 
 
 That she wore when she was wed." 
 Then her people, softly treading, 
 
 Bore to earth her body, drest 
 In the dress that she was wed in, 
 
 That her spirit might have rest. 
 
 Afid yet, dear heart / remembering thee. 
 Am I not richer than of old! 
 
 W\ : 
 
 Whittier. 
 
*'BRF.Ah' nRKAK, BREAK» 
 
 5. ; 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 .,i\ 
 
 ^EAK, BREAK." 
 
 LORU iKNNVSON. 
 
 Br . break, break, 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 
 The thoughts that arise in me. 
 
 O well for the fi rman s boy, 
 That he shouts with his sister af Mlay! 
 
 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 ; 
 
 But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand. 
 And the sound of a voice that is still! 
 
 Break, break, break, 
 
 At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
 But the tender grace of a da^■ that is dead 
 
 Will never come back to me. 
 
 lER. 
 
 LXXXI. THE "REVENGE." 
 
 A BALLAD OF THE FLEET, 1591. 
 Lord Tennyson, 
 At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay 
 And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from for awav • 
 " Spanish ships of war at sea ! we have sighted fifty-three '" ' 
 Then sware Lord Thomas Howard : "'Fore God I am no coward 
 iiut I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear 
 

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THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. 
 We are six ships of the line ; can we fight with fifty-three ? " 
 
 Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: " I know you are no coward ; 
 You^y them for a moment to fight with them again. 
 But I ye ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 
 
 I should count myself the coward if Deft them, my Lord Howard, 
 lo these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." 
 
 So I,ord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, 
 
 1 .11 he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven • 
 
 But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 
 
 Very carefully and slow, 
 
 Men of Bideford in Devon, 
 
 And we laid them on the ballast down below; 
 
 For we brought them all aboard, 
 
 And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, 
 
 1 o the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord. 
 
 • He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight 
 
 fv".K V ""f^ '"'"^ ^'""^ ^'^^'■^^ ^'" '^^ SP^^"''^'-d came in sight. 
 With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. 
 
 Shall we fight or shall we fly ? 
 Good Sir Richard, let us know, 
 For to fight is but to die ! 
 
 There'll be little of us left by the time the sun be set " 
 And Sir Richard said again : " We be all good Englishmen. 
 Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil 
 Por 1 never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet." 
 
 Sir Richard spoke, and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so 
 1 he little Revenge " ran on sheer into the heart of the foe 
 With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below: 
 I^ or half of their fleet to die right and half to the left were seen 
 And the httle "Revenge" ran on thro' the long sea-lane between' 
 
 
THE ''revenge:' 
 
 375 
 
 
 Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and 
 
 laugh'd, 
 Thousands of their seamen made mor.k at the mad Httlc craft 
 Running on and on, till delay'd 
 
 By their mountain-like "San Philip" that, of fifteen hundred tons, 
 And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns. 
 Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd. 
 
 And while now the great " San Philip" hung above us like a cloud 
 
 Whence the thunderbolt will fall 
 
 Long and loud, 
 
 Four galleons drew away 
 
 From the Si>anish fleet that day, 
 
 And two ui)on the larboard and two upon the starboard lay, 
 
 And the battle-thunder broke from them all. 
 
 But anon the great " San Philip," she bethought herself and went, 
 Having that within her womb that had lefl her ill-content ; 
 And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to 
 
 hand,. 
 For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers, 
 And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears 
 When he leaps from the water to the land. 
 
 And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the 
 
 summer sea, 
 But never a moment ceas'd the fight of the one and the fifty-three. 
 Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons 
 
 came. 
 
 Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder 
 
 and flame ; 
 Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead 
 
 and her shame ; 
 For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight 
 
 us no more — 
 God of battles, was ever a battle like this m the worid before? 
 
376 
 
 1 1 
 
 h' 
 
 i.l I 
 
 h 
 
 .vi 
 
 T//jr HTGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 For he said, ''Fight on! fight on!" 
 1 ho his vessel was all but a wreck ; 
 And it chanced that, when hnlf of fk^ 
 
 And he said. " F^SlrSt'" '" '"^ ^'"^ ^"'^ "'^ ''-^- 
 
 ^"'J!:::^;?"' '°™' ^-^ '"^ -- -•'^'' -« '« ov. .he 
 
 could sting, ^ ' ^' ^^^"^ ^^^ ^^^ ^e still 
 
 So they watch'd'what the end would be 
 And we had not fougfet them in vain. ' 
 liut in perilous plight were we 
 
 And half of the rest of us maim'd for life 
 
 and cold, ^'''^'^ ^"'■^ '^««^ °^ them stark 
 
 And the pikes were all broken or bent and th/ a 
 
 of it spent • ' ^ ^^^ P°^der was all 
 
 We have fought such a fight for a day and a ni^ht 
 As may never be fought again 1 ^^ 
 
 We have won great glory, my men I 
 And a day less or more 
 At sea or shore, 
 We die— does it matter when ? 
 
 And the gunner said, "Ay av " hnf f^^ 
 
 " We have children, U hl;e 'w^'r " '"'"' "^'^ ^ 
 
1 
 
 THE ''REVENGE." 
 
 m 
 
 was gone, 
 
 dead, 
 le head. 
 
 over the 
 
 in a ring; 
 t we still 
 
 n stark 
 was all 
 
 wain .' 
 
 J 
 
 And the Lord hath spared our lives. 
 
 We will make t' e Spaniard promise, if wc yield, to let us go; 
 W shall live to fight igain, and to strike another blow." 
 And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. 
 
 And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, 
 Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, 
 And they prais'd him to his face wirh their courtly foreign grace ; 
 But he rose upon their decks, and he cried : 
 " I have fought for Queen and Fai'th like a valiant man and true ; 
 I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do : 
 With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die ! " 
 And he fell upon their decks, and he died. 
 
 And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, 
 And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap, 
 That he dared her with one little shij) and his English few ; 
 Was he devil or man ? He was devil for aught they knew,' 
 But they sank his body with honor down into the deep. 
 And they mann'd the " Revenge " with a swarthier alien crew, 
 And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own ; 
 When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep. 
 And the water began to heave and the weather to moan. 
 And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew. 
 And a wave like the wave that is rais'd by an earthquake grew. 
 Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and 
 their flags. 
 
 And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy 
 
 of Spain, 
 And the little " Revenge " herself went down by the island crags 
 To be lost evermore in the main. 
 
 There is no land like Evgiand, wiiereer the light of day be ; 
 There are no hearts like English kcci-ts, such hearts of oak as 
 they be. 
 
"!«B 
 
 ::/, <" 
 
 'ii 
 
 378 
 
 77//:- ///67/ SCHOOL READER. 
 
 LXXXII. HERV^ KIEL. 
 
 f ! 
 
 ■f 
 
 ROBKKP IiK()WNIN(;. — 1812- 
 
 On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two 
 Did the Enghsh fight the French,-woe to France t ' 
 And, the thirty-first of May, heker-skelter through the hlue 
 Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue 
 
 xv-.^rTTf""^ '^''' ^" '^^' ^^ ^'' M^J« °" the Ranee. 
 With the Enghsh fleet in view. 
 
 'Twas the squadron that escaped, w,th the victor in full chase- 
 I'lrst and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfre- 
 ville ; 
 
 Close on him fled, great and small, 
 
 Twenty-two good ships in all ; 
 And they signall'd to the place 
 " Help the winners of a race ! 
 
 Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick, -or, quicker 
 still. 
 
 Here's the English can and will !" 
 
 Then^the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on hoar<^ 
 Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" 
 laugh 'd they : 
 
 "Rocks fo starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarr'd and 
 
 scored, 
 Shall the Formidable here with her twelve and eighty guns 
 
 Thmk to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way 
 Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons 
 
 And with flow at full beside ? ' ' 
 
 Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 
 Reach the mooring ? Rather say. 
 While rock stands or water runs. 
 Not a ship will leave the bay !" 
 
 / 
 
::/, ^: 
 
 HERVE KIEL. 
 
 379 
 
 ker 
 
 / 
 
 Then was call'd a council straight. 
 Brief and hitter the dehate • 
 
 "Here's the Jinglisl, ut our heel.,; would you have them take 
 in tow 
 
 All that's left us of the flppf 'ini-vi t^ ^u 
 ,,. . ^ "^^ "^^^' ''"K d together stern and bow 
 
 I^or a prize to Plymouth Sound ? ' 
 
 lietter run the ships aground ! " 
 
 (Ended Damfreville his speech.) 
 Not a minute more to wait I 
 
 " Let the captains all and each 
 
 Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ' 
 I' ranee must undergo her fate. ' 
 
 "Oive the word !" But no such word 
 Was ever spcke or heard ; 
 
 A cap ain } a lieutenant ? a mate,.-.first, second, third ? 
 
 JNo such man of mark, and meet 
 
 ^\'ith his betters to compete ! 
 
 But a simple Breton sailor i)ress'd by Tourville for the fleet 
 A poor coasting-pilot he,-Herve Riel, the Croisickese ' 
 
 And nVhat mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herve 
 Kiel : ■ 
 
 "Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, fools 
 or rogues ? ' ■ > 
 
 Talk to me of^rocks and shoals ?-me, who took the soundings. 
 
 On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 
 
 Iwixt the offing here and Greve where the river disem- 
 nogues ? 
 Are >^u bought by English gold ? Is it love the lying's for? 
 Morn and eve, night and day, 
 Have I piloted your bay, 
 Enter'd free and anchor'd fasi at the foot of Solidor. 
 
 'I 
 
THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Burn the fleet and rinn France? That were worse than 
 fifty Hogues ! 
 Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, beUeve me 
 there's a way ! 
 Only let me lead the line, 
 
 Have the biggest ship to steer, 
 (iet this 7v;'w/i/flr/V(? clear, 
 Make the others follow mine, 
 
 And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 
 Right to Solidor past (Ireve, 
 
 And there lay them safe and sound ; 
 And if one shij) misbehave, — 
 
 Keel so much as grate the ground,— 
 Why, I've notliing but my life,— here's my head !" cries Herve 
 Riel. 
 
 Not a minute more to wait. 
 
 " Steer us in, then, small and great ! 
 
 Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron !" cried its 
 chief 
 Captains, give the sailor place ! 
 
 He is admiral, in brief 
 Still the north-wind, by God's grace ! 
 See the noble fellow's face 
 As the big shij), with a bound. 
 Clears the entry like a hound, 
 
 Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's pro- 
 found ! 
 See, safe through shoal and rock. 
 How they follow in a flock ! 
 Not a shij) that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground. 
 
 Not a spar that comes to grief ! 
 The peril, see, is past ! 
 All are harbor'd to the last ! 
 
 And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor !"— sure as fate 
 Up the English come, — too late ! 
 
 - 
 
orsc than 
 elieve me 
 
 ' well, 
 
 IS Herve 
 
 cried its 
 
 2a s pro- 
 
 ;rouna, 
 
 HERVE RIEL. 
 
 So, the storm subsides to calm • 
 
 They see the green trees wave 
 On the heights o'erlookingCir^ve 
 
 Hearts that bled are standVd with balm. 
 Just our rapture to enhance, 
 I^et the English rake the'bav 
 C-nash their teeth and glare askance 
 As they cannonade away i 
 
 " This is Paradise for Hell ! 
 
 I^et France, let France's king 
 
 What '. .h^^'"^ !,''" "'"" ''^"^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^hingl" 
 ^^ hat a shout, and all one word 
 
 " Herve Riel!" 
 As he stepp'd in front once more, 
 
 Not a symptom of surprise 
 In the frank blue Breton eyes,- 
 Just the same man as before. 
 
 Then said Damfreville, " My friend 
 I must speak out at the end 
 
 Though I find the speaking hard. 
 Praise is deeper than the lips • 
 Vou have saved the king his ships 
 
 You must name your own revvard 
 
 l^aith our sun was near eclipse I 
 Demand whate'er you will, 
 France remains your debtor still 
 Ask to heart's con.ene, and have , or ,„, „,„,., „„, ^^^^„ 
 
 Then a beam of fun outbroke 
 On the bearded mouth that spoke 
 
 As the honest heart laugh'd through 
 ihose frank eyes of Breton blue- 
 
 3ii 
 
V 
 
 3^2 
 
 T//E HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 " Since I needs must say my say, 
 
 Since on Imarcl the duty's done, 
 
 And from Malo Ro;uls to Croisic Point, what is it but a 
 run ? — 
 Since 'tis ask and have, I may,— 
 
 Since the others go ashore, — 
 Come ! A good whr^le hohday ! 
 
 Leave to go and see my \vile,\vhom I call the Uelle Aurore!" 
 
 I'hat he ask'd and that he got, — nothing more. 
 
 Name and deed alike are lost : 
 Not a pillar nor a ])ost 
 
 In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; 
 Not a head in white and black 
 On a single fishing smack, 
 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 
 
 All that France saved from the fight whence England bore 
 the bell, 
 do to Paris : rank on rank 
 
 Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
 On the Louvre, face and flank ! 
 
 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herv^ Riel. 
 So, for better and for worse, 
 Herve Riel, accei)t my verse ! 
 In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more 
 Save the squadron, honor France, love tliy wife the IJelle 
 
 Aurore ! 
 
 The Summum Pukhntm rests in heaven above ; 
 
 Do thou, as best thou viafst, thy duty do : 
 Amid the things a/hmi'd thee live and iove , 
 
 Some day thou sha/t it view. 
 
 Akthuk Hugh Clough, 
 
is it but a 
 
 e Aurore!" 
 
 rack 
 sland bore 
 
 LXXXIII. SONNET. 
 
 Such as (;od give, „. HtsJcs, Lor 
 
 M St ere tlie m„rning „„«,, h.^^e ,.,,,„,,| , 
 
 '-^tand in the arena. Laurels fhn^ o 
 Pln/.UM r ^'lurtis that are won 
 
 iiuckd from preen boinrho ... ■, ' 
 
 And summer's fierv L^hro in ,.o- 
 
 «-c„c and u„di»u,H,., .lian bely VJT"' 
 
 383 
 
 rv^ Riel. 
 
 the IJelle 
 
 Clough. 
 
 LXXXiy. OUR IDEAL. 
 
 pREsioKNT Wilson. 
 I^iD ever on j.ainter's canvas live 
 
 1 he power of his fancy's dream? 
 Did ever poot's pen achieve 
 
 I^ruitionof his theme? 
 Did marble ever take the life 
 
 That the sculptor's soul conceiv'd? 
 Or amb,t,on win in passion's strife 
 
 ,,.7^^^^'^«>«^''nghopesbeliev'd? 
 Did ever racer's eager feet 
 
 Kestashereach'dthegoal 
 
 I^mding the pri.eachiev'dwa's meet 
 i o satisfy his soul ? 
 
3»4 
 
 77/A' ///(/// SCHOOL HEADER. 
 
 LXXXV. FROM THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES. 
 
 k'lKNJAMIN JOWETT. -1817- 
 I'mm TllK LMALtKJUKS ok I'I.ATO. 
 
 Not much time will be grained, O Athenians, in return 
 for the evil name which you will get from the detractors 
 of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise 
 man , for they will cail me wise, even although I am not 
 wise, when they w ant to reproach you. If you had waited 
 a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the 
 course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you 
 may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking 
 now only to those of you who have condemned me to 
 death. And I have another thing to say to them : You 
 think that I was convicted through deficiency of word.s — 
 I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, 
 nothing unsaid, 1 might have gained an acquittal. Not 
 .so ; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not 
 of words — certainly not. But I had not the boldness or 
 impudence or inclination to address you as you would 
 have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and 
 lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you 
 have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, 
 as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I 
 ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour 
 of danger : nor do I now repent of the manner of my 
 defense, and I would rather die having spoken after my 
 manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither 
 in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way 
 of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt 
 that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his 
 knees before his pursuers, he may escape death ; and in 
 
ES. 
 
 n return 
 L'tractors 
 s, a wise 
 [ am not 
 (1 waited 
 id in the 
 s, as you 
 jpeaking 
 J me to 
 m : You 
 words — 
 undone, 
 al. Not 
 was not 
 dness or 
 u would 
 ing and 
 lich you 
 d which, 
 t that I 
 the hour 
 r of my 
 iftcr my 
 r neither 
 ery way 
 
 10 doubt 
 
 11 on his 
 ; and in 
 
 ^MA, Tm APof.or, V OF SOCK ■ -tes. 38, 
 
 :tntr,;:n«rr :r; ^^^-^ °'' '^--'-^ '-'^- ^ 
 
 rit'htcousncss ; f,. tha. n,„.s Is.e than d "t'h , '' "n 
 pena tv of dpflf>- • «ri *u . ' ^ •''Utfcr the 
 
 Z ^::l^o::^ '^z^ Tr^' ^r-'""''' 
 
 and r n,n f k- 1 u penalty of vidainy and wronL' • 
 
 ana I must abide bv mv awa -ri 1^4. l ,. *vnjng , 
 
 ^he hour ,n which men are gifted with propi,: ^^ 
 And I prophesy to you who are-my murderers h^t 
 mcdjately after my death punishment frhavetC 
 you have inflicted on me will snr^l,, -,. ■/ ""^^^f^ '"an 
 have lcille.1 because Zl wanted o ^T' ^' ''°" 
 
 and not to gi-e an acioun" u" . ^^ B« t^:^;' 
 
 mere will be more accusers of you than fh,.r« 
 accusers whom hitherto . have Strain:, "^^dTsThr 
 are your^er they will be more severe w,th vn , V ^ 
 w . J more offended at them For7;:;: tLVt' It^b; 
 
 which is either possible'or hontabt t 7ea LsTa;': 
 the noblest way is not to be crushing Others but oh^ 
 improving yourselves. This 's the nrnnr' ""' *° "^ 
 utter beforemy departure tlM 1*^ '^.^^ "'"'='' ' 
 
 $ ' 
 
 Hi 
 
386 
 
 7 HE HIGH SCHOOL DEADER. 
 
 Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like 
 also to talk with you about this thing which has hap- 
 pened, while the magistrates are busy, anu before I go 
 to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for 
 we may as well talk with one another while there is time. 
 You are my friends, and I should like to show you the 
 meaning of this event which has happened to me. O my 
 judges— for you I may truly call judges— I should like 
 to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the 
 familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit 
 of opposing me even about trities, if I was going to make 
 a slip or error about anything ; and now as you see there 
 has come upon me that which may be thought, and is 
 generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. Ssut the 
 oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving 
 my house and going out in the morning, or when I was 
 going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at any- 
 thing which I was going to say ; and yet I have often 
 been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in no- 
 thing I either said or did touching this matter has the 
 oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explana- 
 tion of this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof 
 that what ha'^ happened to me is a good, and that those 
 of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This 
 is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the cus- 
 tomary sign would .surely have opposed me had I been 
 going to evil and not to good 
 
 Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that 
 there is great reason to hope that death is a good, for one 
 of two things : either death is a state of nothingness and 
 utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change 
 and migration of the soul from this world to another. 
 Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a 
 
Sleep like the sleen ^c u- , ^ 
 
 the sight ofdretfd at' w^IlK*'' """'^""•"^'^ -- "y 
 
 was undisturbed even bv d J»' ^^ V" "'^'■* ^'s sleep 
 *'th this the otherivs and T' '"'' '"^^^ '" ^""Pare 
 -re to ten us hovvX davs'f d °'u " "■'=• ^"^ 'hen 
 ;n the course of his iifebettrand r"'^ ,'"^ "^^ P-'^^ 
 "■.s one, I think that any man , M P'^asantly than 
 man, but even the ^reat JTn „ "°' '"y " P"vate 
 •jays o, „,.^hts, whenr^pS ^ I T '"' ^^^ ^^h 
 death is like this, I sav that !„ ^ " °"'''"'- ^ov. if 
 
 - then only a single ^ But 'f d 't ' '"' «'="''>' 
 to another plaee, and there » """' " 'he journey 
 
 -hat good, O n,; f^endsTnd „T" ''^' "" "'^ ^-^^ -^^ 
 'hjs ? If indeed'^when he i "t"' ''" '^ ^"^'"^^ '«''" 
 beiow, he is delivered from f T""^ '" 'he world 
 'his world, and find tie72 d "'"^'r^' "^ J"^''-- 'n 
 judgment there, Itftls a„d ^td" "'V" ""^-^ '° ^-^ 
 and Triptolemus, and other sons of'S::;"^' '"' '^'"^- 
 ^•""s in their own life that nL '"''° ^'"^ "ght- 
 
 mal^ing. What would not a nf.^^'"^^' '''" ^ '^""h 
 
 versewithO^heusa dM sa.ra"ndH ^^ "'''''''""■ 
 Nay, if this be true let me d "°^ ^""^ ""mer? 
 
 shall have a vvonde'r Tn ett Tl" T' "^^"■"- '' '°°' 
 converse with Palamedes a„dl ..^ '" ^^'"^ ' -=«" 
 and other heroes of old Xhave s'uff 7", °'J^'^"'°"' 
 an unjust judgment; a^d there will h '* ""•°"'''' 
 
 a; I think, in comparing mvowTLr""'''". P'^^™^^' 
 Above all, I shall be able Z\TI^ ="ffenngs with theirs. 
 
 and false knowledge a in th f."^ ^'''^ ''"'° '™- 
 
 shall find outwho^-swT and r° ''"'■" *^'' ' 
 and is not. What wouH ' P™'^"'''^ '° he wi.,e 
 
 able to examine th: L^alnf^r" l^ « J«^^es, ^ '-^ 
 
 tne great Trojan expedi- 
 
 >■;! 
 
388 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 i'l 
 
 i 1 f ' 
 
 tion ; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless others, 
 men and women too ? W hat infinite dehght would there 
 be in conversing with them and asking them questions ! 
 For in that world they do not put a man to death for 
 this ; certainly not For besides being happier in that 
 world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said 
 is true. 
 
 Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, 
 and know this of a truth — that no evil can happen to a 
 good man, either in life or after death. He and his are 
 not neglected by the gods ; nor has my own approaching 
 end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to 
 die and be released was better for me ; and th ?refore the 
 oracle gave no sign For which rea.son, also, I am not 
 angry with my accusers or my condemners ; they have 
 done me no harm, although neither of them meant to do 
 ne any good ; and for this I may gently blame them. 
 
 Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons 
 are grown up, I would ask you, O'my friends, to punish 
 them, and I would have you trouble them, as I have 
 troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or any- 
 thing, more than about virtue ; or if they pretend to be 
 something when they are really nothing, — then reprove 
 them, as I have reproved you, for not caring about that 
 for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are 
 .something when they are really nothing. And if you do 
 this, I and. my sons will have received justice at your 
 hands. 
 
 The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways 
 — 1 to die, and you to live. Which is better God only 
 knows. 
 
 Be of good chcey then, my dear Crito, and say that you 
 are burying my body only, ^on-ates, in the Ph^uo.-Hlato, 
 
others, 
 lid there 
 estions ! 
 eath for 
 
 in that 
 .t is said 
 
 t death, 
 >en to a 
 i his are 
 'oaching 
 7 that to 
 ifore the 
 am not 
 ley have 
 nt to do 
 thern. 
 my sons 
 ) punish 
 I have 
 or any- 
 id to be 
 reprove 
 out that 
 they are 
 f you do 
 at your 
 
 )ur ways 
 rod only 
 
 that you 
 —Plato, 
 
 THE EMPIRE OF THE 
 
 C.ESARS. 
 
 389 
 
 LXXXVI. THE EMPIRE OF THE C^SARS. 
 
 James Anthonv Kkoudk.-iSis- 
 From (.'/i;sAK. 
 
 sense some ordered sv^fom ^f ' ^ °^ ^^^^ 
 
 the wheat ca'n'be sow o befo c' thf K "h"""^'' '^'"^'^ 
 th,s world where the nations were neither to ■"" 
 
 terf^H 1,-f« o J P "^^ ">^ Gallios who nro- 
 
 other f nT '"■°'''?' "'" '°*''^'= f^^"" '« tear 'a", 
 
 law 1 VTL Z^'" '"''''"" '""■"'■°"'- " " -"- 
 
 us to put any mnn to death," was the com 
 
 II 
 
 ■wmr 
 
390 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 plaint of the Jewish priests to the Roman governor. 
 Had Europe and Asia- been covered with independent 
 nations, each with a local religion represented in its rul- 
 ing powers, Christianity must have been stifled in its 
 cradle. If St. Paul had escaped the Sanhedrim at Jer- 
 usalem, he would have been torn to pieces by the silver- 
 smiths at Ephesus. The appeal to Caesar's judgment- 
 seat was the shield of his mission, and alone made pos- 
 sible his success. 
 
 LXXXVII. OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 
 
 John Ruskin — 1819- 
 From Sesame and Lilies. 
 
 AInd now, returning to the broader question what these 
 arts and labors of life have to teach us of its mystery, 
 this is the first of their lessons — that the more beautiful 
 the art, the more it is essentially the work of people who 
 feel themseJ s wrong; — who are striving for the fulfil- 
 ment of a law, and the grasp of a loveliness, which they 
 have not yet attained, which they feel even farther and 
 farther from attaining, the more they strive for it. And 
 yet, in still deeper sense, it is the work of people who 
 know also that they are right. The very sense of inevi- 
 table error from their purpose marks the perfectness of 
 that purpose, and the continued sense of failure arises 
 from the continued opening of the eyes more clearly to 
 all the sacredest laws of truth. 
 
 This is one lesson. The second is a very plain, and 
 greatly precious one, namely : — that whenever the arts 
 
 -^ 
 
.'I J 
 
 pvernor. 
 ipcndent 
 I its rul- 
 d in its 
 at Jer- 
 le silvcr- 
 flgment- 
 ade pos- 
 
 lat these 
 mystery, 
 beautiful 
 Dple who 
 hie fulfil- 
 ich they 
 ther and 
 it. And 
 Dple who 
 of inevi- 
 :tness of 
 re arises 
 Jearly to 
 
 ain, and 
 the arts 
 
 .\ 
 
 c!5> 
 
 OF THE MY.'^TERV OF UrE. 35, 
 
 and labors of life arc fulfilled in this soirit nf , ■ • 
 
 agai„st,„i,srule,anddoin,wha.everweha'e 00 ::::?■' 
 ably an.l perfectly, they invariably bring haptncs.s" 
 much as seems possible to the nature of man 71, ^the 
 paths, by which that happiness is pursued, the e is dtp 
 
 peri* in n ; "" ' '^' ^'■^"^' P''^^™^'^'* "f youth 
 
 pensh n a darkness greater than their past lirrht and 
 
 cloud of hfe wrth endless fire of pain. But, ascending- 
 
 dusto^ that industry worthily followed, gives peace Ask 
 he laborer ,n the field, at the forge, or !n the mine- a k 
 the pat,ent, dehcate-fingered artisan, or the strong-armed 
 fiery hearted worker in bronze, and in marble, fnd w th 
 the colors of hght ; and none of these, who are true wo k 
 men, w,ll ever tell you, that they have found the law of 
 heaven an unk,nd one-that in the sweat of their Ice 
 hey should eat bread, till they return to the ground nor 
 that they ever found it a„ unrewarded obedience if in 
 deed, .t was rendered faithfully to the command-. £-" 
 soever thy hand findeth to do-do it with thy mighT" 
 
 These are the two great and constant lessons which our 
 laborers teach us of the mystery of life. But there is an 
 other, and a sadder one, which they cannot teach us 
 which we must read on their tombstones ' 
 
 " Do ,t with thy might." There have been myriads 
 0.«pon mynads of human creatures who have obeyTtht 
 . law-who have put every breath and nerve of t^Ir^^^ 
 into ,ts to,l-who have a. voted every hour and ^ 
 hausted ever, faculty-who have bequeathed their unac" 
 compl,sh..d thoughts at dcath-who being dead 1 ave ve 
 spoken, by majesty of memory, and strength of etmple 
 
11': 
 
 :.»'' 
 
 [!''»' 
 
 '•■U' 
 
 
 i 
 
 f 
 
 I J 
 
 r I 
 
 392 
 
 T///C HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 And, at last, what has all this " Mijrht " of humanity 
 acx'omplishcd, iti six thousand years of labor and sorrow ? 
 What luis it done ? fake the three chief occupations and 
 arts of men, one by one, and count their achievements. 
 ]k^gin with the first— thelord of them all— agriculture. Six 
 thousand years have passed since we were set to till the 
 ground, from which we were taken. How much of it is 
 tilled ? How much of that which is, wisely or well ? In 
 the very centre and chief garden of EuKope— where the 
 two forms of parent Christianity have had their fortresses 
 —where the noble Catholics of the Poorest Cantons, and 
 the noble Protestants of the Vaudois valleys, have main- 
 tained, for dateless ages, their faiths and liberties — there 
 the unchecked Alpine rivers yet run wild in devastation : 
 and the marshes, which a few hundred men could redeem 
 with a year's labor, still blast their helpless inhabitants 
 into fevered idiotism. That is so, in the c entre of Europe ! 
 While, on the near coast of Africa, once the Garden of the 
 Hesperides, an Arab woman, but a few sunsets since, ate 
 her child, for famine. And, with all the treasures of the 
 East at our feet, we, in our own dominion, could not find 
 a {^w grains of rice, for a people that asked of us no more ; 
 but stood by, and saw five hundred thousand of them 
 perish of hunger. 
 
 Then, after agriculture, the art of kings, take the next 
 head of human arts— weaving ; the art of queens, hon- 
 ored of all noble Heathen women, in the person of their 
 virgin goddess— honored of all Hebrew women, by the 
 word of their wisest king—" She layeth her hands to the 
 spindle, and her hands hold the distaff ; she stretcheth 
 out her hand to the poor. She is not afraid of the snow 
 for her household, for all her household are clothed with 
 scarlet. She aiaketh herself covering of tapestry, her 
 
 T 
 
umanity 
 sorrow ? 
 ions and 
 cements, 
 urc. Six 
 ' till the 
 li of it is 
 2\\? In 
 lere the 
 )rtresses 
 )ns. and 
 e main- 
 5 — there 
 station : 
 redeem 
 abitants 
 Europe ! 
 n of the 
 nee, ate 
 5 of the 
 not find 
 3 more ; 
 )f them 
 
 he next 
 IS, hon- 
 3f their 
 by the 
 i to the 
 etcheth 
 e snow 
 2d with 
 ry, her 
 
 OF THE MYSTERY OI- JJEF 
 
 ' 393 
 
 clothing is silk and purple. She mik-rfh fi., r 
 scllcth it, and dcliver^h^irdl.; ': X^c^:: ^ 'l^l"^ 
 have we done in all these thousands f^with^ 
 bnght art of Greek maid and Christian'm Lr ' "^ 
 thousand years of wcavinLr anri h- '''\'^"" ' -^'x 
 
 weave? Might not everrXddlhr^K ""'""' ^" 
 with tapestry, and evcry'^ccbt b J^^^^^^ been purple 
 
 colors from theeoldP Wha h vc "^ ,t T o ' .""^ 
 
 -~-areu>eyeUiotMp Arc not the streets of tlcc;,,!; 
 of Europe foul with the sale of ^a^ clouts a cl C 
 rags? Is not the beauty of your sweet childnM 1 r 
 
 ucn .r* /\nct does not evcrv win frM-'« 
 snow robe what you have not robed, and sh,™d X 
 you have not shrouded ; an.l every winter's «td 1 up 
 
 IX?,"'"""^';""'^' '"*'•'"-» against you here' 
 alter, by the voice of their rhriet "i , . 
 
 yeelothedmenot"? """ ^''"^'■- ' ^™» "aked, and 
 
 Lastly-take the Art of Building-the strono-est 
 proudest-most orderly-„,ost enduring of e S 7f 
 , man, that of whieh the produce is in the sure t Jler 
 accumulative, and need not perish, or be replTeed h"? . 
 
 anced locks more prevalently than the crumbling hills 
 
 principle with which men record their power-satisfv 
 Aeir enthusiasm maL-e sure their defenec-define tnd 
 ma^e dear their habitation. And, in six thousand --ears 
 of budding, what have we done ? Of the greater p^rt of 
 
ylilg^ 
 
 394 
 
 77//; ///(/// SC/IOOL READIER. 
 
 {• i\ 
 
 m 
 
 all that skill and strength, no vestige is left, but fallen 
 stones, that encumber the fields and impede the streams. 
 But, from this waste of disorder, and of time, and of rage, 
 what is left to us ? Constructive and progressive crea- 
 tures, that we are, with ruling brains, and forming hands, 
 capable of fellowship, and thirsting for fame, can wc not 
 contend, in comfort, with the insects of the forest, or, in 
 achievement, with the worm of the sea ? The white surf 
 rages in vain against the ramparts built by poor atoms of 
 scarcely nascent life ; but only ridges of formless ruin 
 mark the places where once dwelt our noblest multitudes. 
 The ant and the moth havecells for each of their young,but 
 our little ones lie in festering heaps, in liomes that con- 
 sume them like graves ; and night by night, from the cor- 
 ners of our streets, rises up the cry of the homeless—" I 
 was a stranger, and ye took me not in." 
 
 Must it be always thus? Is our life forever to be with- 
 out prufit — without possession? Shall the strength of 
 its generations be as barren as death ; or cast away their 
 labor, as the wild fig-tree casts her untimely figs ? Is it 
 all a dream then — the desire of the eyes and the pride 
 of life — or, if it be, might we not live in nobler dream 
 than this ? The poets and prophets, the wise men, and 
 the scribes, though they have told us nothing about a life 
 to come, have told us much about the life that is now. 
 They have had— they also,— their dreams, and we have 
 laughed at them. They have dreamed of mercy, and of 
 justice ; they have dreamed of peace and good-will ; they 
 have dreamed of labor undisappointed, and of rest undis- 
 turbed ; they have dreamed of fulness in harvest, and 
 overflowing in store ; they have dreamed of wisdom in 
 council, and of providence in law ; of gladness of parents, 
 and strength of children, and glory of gray hairs. And 
 
OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE, 
 
 3ut fallen 
 2 streams, 
 d of rage, 
 ?ivo crea- 
 iig hands, 
 m we not 
 est, or, in 
 vhitc surf 
 ' atoms of 
 ilcss ruin 
 ultitudes. 
 'oung,but 
 that con- 
 1 the cor- 
 :ileys— " I 
 
 be with- 
 'ength of 
 ivay their 
 s ? Is it 
 the pride 
 er dream 
 men, and 
 lOut a life 
 ; is now. 
 
 we have 
 y, and of 
 /ill ; they 
 :st undis- 
 vest, and 
 isdom in 
 f parents, 
 rs. And 
 
 395 
 
 What have we acco^p,.'.:.,::; .^ ,. ^ir^ r'.r 
 what has come of our ,v<,rl,lly wisdom ri, u ' 
 
 folly? tl,is our nugluicst l-osfib.; "•"'''''''"'' '^''" 
 
 vanisheth away " ? ' ^"'^ ^^^" 
 
 which CLscuict. ,tself i„ vain, cannot chl'f i:;";^' 
 smok-e of the torment that ascen.is foreve"? w" ? 
 answer that they are sure of it, an., that ^c e ^1 f f 
 nor hope, „„r desn-e, nor labor, wh.ither they go P Bel' 
 ^o , w,ll you not, then, make as sure of the II that no " 
 ..s, as you are of the Death that is to come ? v'^r h " 
 are wholly in this wortd-will you noT give them r^t' 
 wisely, as well as perfectly ? And see first ,f I ,, 
 nave hearts, and soun<I hLrts.lo to '.i e if ' '"" 
 have no heaven to look for is ?n. """ >'"" 
 
 shouldremainignoranto/l^is::::^--— nt:^^^ 
 wn.ch ,s firmly and instantly given vou " '""""^'^^'^'h. 
 
 Although your days are number«/°V?heI.r'°" 
 
 Its mortality or ]n^n fl-.^ !T r ; '"^i^-innCQ tO 
 
 " ' ' "'^ ^^^c tne ijfe of the morh anrl ^r 4.u 
 worm, because you are to companion tr^l'in^t du!t ^ 
 
Iff 
 
 396 
 
 yy/A ///(,// SC//()()L READER. 
 
 Not so ; vve may have but a few thousands of days to 
 spend, perhaps hundreds otdy - i)erhaps tens; nay, the 
 longest of our tinu* and best, looked back on, will be but 
 an a moment, as the twinkiinj^- of an eye ; still, we are 
 mefi, tiot insects ; we are living spirits, not passinj^ clouds. 
 " lie inaketh the winds llis messenj^ers ; tlie momentary 
 fire, His minister;" and shall we do less than these? 
 Let us do the work of men while we bear the form of 
 them ; and, as wc snatch our narrow portion of time out 
 of l*'ternit)-, snatch also our narrow inheritance of pas- 
 sion out of Immortality — even thouj^h our lives /v as a 
 vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth 
 away. 
 
 Hut there arc some of )'ou who believe not this — who 
 think this cloud of life has no such close — ihat it is to 
 float, revealed afid ilhunined, upon the floor of heaven, 
 in the day when lie cometh with clouds, and every eye 
 shall see Him. Some day, you believe, within these five, 
 or ten, or twenty years, for evn)- one of us the judi^ment 
 will be set, and th(; b.ioks o[)ened. If that be true, far 
 more than that must bj true. Is there but one day of 
 judpTJcnt? Why, for us every day is a day of judg- 
 ment — every day is a Dies Ir;e, and writcji its irrevocable 
 verdict in the flame of its West. Think you that judij- 
 ment waits till the doors of the grave arc opened? It 
 waits at the doors of your houses — it waits at the corners 
 of your streets ; we arc in the midst of jutlgment — the 
 insects that we crush are our judges — the moments wc 
 fret away are our judges — the elements that feed us, 
 judge, as they minister — and the pleasures that deceive 
 us, judge as they indulge. Let us, for our lives, do the 
 work of Men while we bear the Form of them, if indeed 
 
 thnt;*'' ln/'f»« arf» ISInt a< ^ VPPOr 'a\m\ <-|f> ?Jnt i/nnicti •>\\j-A\r 
 
)f (lays to 
 ; ti.iy, the 
 vill In* but 
 ill, \\c arc 
 iu^ clouds. 
 loinciUary 
 I an t//t'Sf' P 
 ic form of 
 f time out 
 :;c of pas- 
 'cs fie as a 
 vanishcth 
 
 this — who 
 lat it is to 
 )f heaven, 
 every eye 
 tlicse five, 
 judi^ment 
 ; true, far 
 )ne day of 
 ' of judjj- 
 rre vocable 
 ;hat judL(- 
 jned? It 
 le coriKTs 
 nent — the 
 ments we 
 : feed us, 
 ^t deceive 
 ^s, do the 
 , if indeed 
 ish away. 
 
 y///: /.YV.'AV. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 'UIK HOBIN. 
 
 397 
 
 JAMKS K(;,ssKi.,. l.()VVKl,l,.-.,8,9. 
 
 - ^' -t 'n'n.,:i.'i . ■ /fi::rrh "V""""""^ ""■'■' 
 
 ■^Prinj;. A,k1 si„:h l,,' ■ •'"tl'^^^nlic imtifkaii,,,, of 
 
 "-l.in has a b„l ,^, •' ' '''' "'"^^■'■^"' "^ '«■•• Tl.e 
 
 '■■' a Dad icputatioii ariioTiir |„.,)i,l,. ,,.1,, i 
 value tliumsolvcs Ifs« f,.r i„ ■ r , '1'"- ""'' i'« not 
 ic 1 1 ■ ™ '"•'"Jf '^'i" i>f cherries -n, 
 
 IN I admit, a spice of vul.raritv in ]„■ 7 ' '''■■'■<-' 
 
 rather of the Hloo.nfiel, s 1 1 ', ■";'' '"■' "'"''' ''^ 
 prose. His ctitics -.re f "'^"'^ ^"^'■''''"^ ""h 
 
 -'-.• n,ai„ cha,:r:,;; „ 'f:, r.:,;^"-" -"-'• -'i 
 
 Sether of the hel-y. He never 1 '"' ""^'i^y ''^ alto- 
 
 i-acy into „.„ie,f his c- u , t ^ LTr'l "/'f ^'''^ "'■ 
 ••"•0 apt to fall. Hut for V ^h',l ? •""' ""= "'•''"'^. 
 
 that, i wouM not cLt^e ^ ^ ll' t^:''^ T^^'^' ''^ ^' 
 ever came out of Asia IVrfnor VV r , '''"'""'' "'at 
 l.as not wholly lorfei terf ,»t ■, "'"''^'^" '■""'"••^' ''- 
 
 to the chilclre,f of n tu e He 1 ""'^r'' '''""'' '"''"'^'' 
 
 .u,pnoti,,.r;::^'^rt^^i;:i^^--^7 
 
 ■nine. Tif L l'. "."'"•''".'"""'"■•'•^•^ ' '^^^ ^-eied 
 
 get also tlie 1 
 
 ion s share of the 
 
 ras 
 
H > 
 
 \l I' 
 
 Till. II hi II SCIIOOI. READER. 
 
 bcrncs, he is .i great planter, and sows those wild ones in 
 the woods, that solace the pedestrian and give a mo- 
 mentary cahn even to the jadetl victim.- of the White 
 Hills. He keeps a strict eye over one's fruit, and knows 
 to a shade of purple when your grapes have cooked long 
 enough in the sun. During a severe drought a few years 
 ago, the robins uholly vaiushed from my garden. I 
 neither .saw nor heard one for three week.s. Meanwhile 
 a small foreign grape-vine, rather shy of bearing, .seeme(i 
 to find the dusty air congenial, and, dreaming perhaps 
 of its sweet Argos across the sea, decked itself with a 
 score or so of fair bunches. I watched them from day 
 to day till they should have .secreted .sugar enough from 
 the sutibeams, and at last made up my mind that I would 
 celebrate m\' vintage the next morning. Jkit the robins 
 too had .somehow kept note of them. They must have 
 sent out spies, as did the Jews into the promi.sed land, 
 before I was stirring. When I went with my basket, at 
 least a dozen of th(^se winged vintagers bustled out from 
 among the leaves, and alighting on the nearest trees in- 
 terchanged .some .shrill remarks about me of a derogatory 
 nature. They had fairly sacked the vine. Not Welling- 
 ton's veterans made cleaner work of a Spanish town ; not 
 Federals or Confederates were ever more impartial in 
 the confiscation of neutral chickens. I was keepin-^^ my 
 grapes a .secret to surprise the fair Fidcle with, but t'-i*- 
 robins made them a profoundcr secret to her thau i hud 
 meant. The tattered remnant of a single bunch was all 
 my harvest-home. How paltry it looked at the bottom 
 of my basket, — as if a humming-bird had laid her eo-fj- 
 in an eagle's 'v s; ! I could not help laughing; and the 
 robins seeme \ \o j ;In heartily in the merriment. There 
 was a native v_;rai)e-vine close by, blue with its less refined 
 
1 ones in 
 i a mo- 
 
 2 White 
 
 :1 knows 
 •fd long 
 ;vv years 
 lIch. I 
 anvvhilc 
 sccnicd 
 perhaps 
 with a 
 om (lay 
 .>h from 
 
 1 would 
 
 2 robins 
 St have 
 d land, 
 skct, at 
 ut from 
 rocs in- 
 i^atory 
 /cllir.g- 
 n ; not 
 rtial in 
 
 W^r my 
 
 but ;'v' 
 
 1 i had 
 was all 
 bottom 
 cr ccfL'" 
 md the 
 There 
 refined 
 
 S""c- ;^:r,r r.;;:ir '-^ -/-- -^ ^--^^ 
 
 •'N '■ke ,.nm,t/vo fire-wor.sh,|,,,ers h . , '>'"■ '^'">™S 
 l'f.'''t a„,i „,Hr„„h to the wor '', '^ Z,"' "^"^ ■•^■""•" "f 
 
 ;'. h"""™' .s.".i.,« „-,e :: '"• '■Th":r;:^'- . ''■"-'^ --= 
 
 "- ;>He,ul..y^;„,,i'X;tt;;;;'h "o aft.thou,h't 
 "■■nc„w, tl,cy „n,mc the.- vo 0^1™ M /"' """• "'>' 
 
 '"ey know , .,SZ it ^h'"'" "/ ""' ^'■•'"'"'' " '-- 
 
 'hoir breasts, that Cu rlZ^uV''" 'T ''"^''^y 
 ''h.ncinarainy.layatrainstthe f ^ '" ""-' """"^'ht, 
 fe--- ! After they la^c ^nc ' , ' ,': ' T." "' '''^ '""«- 
 
 ^Piritoutofastoak/aXc^'tTnTT'-^ ''"""'' ^" '""^ 
 "• '-est self-confi ion e e" Jid h "• '"""^ ''""' "P 
 -'"' the virtuous air of a lobbv '•"•■': "" ""'^'""^'^ 
 you with an eye tliat calmlv rh M ^"'^'' "'"' ""'f^'-'e 
 '"Ok Uko a bird «.at Co "s ^he ™f :f'"''''''^-- " "" ^ 
 hro. n,y.self upon a Jury onnyTZ: T r""'" ' ' ' 
 •f he ever ate anything less ascehWK u "">' '■"'"■" 
 "f "^e Juniper, and hf w 1: Ir tha"t ', ""'"' ''^'■■■>- 
 '"m-" Can such an open bosom ' ^^^ '^'''"'■^ 
 
 A'-, yes ! I have no doubt m T*" '"''' ''^'^'•«^">' ' 
 ">at very moment with th blood If ""' ""^ ""^*^ « 
 "-;>"o'o, he is a .loubtmi S rth"''''?^^- °" 
 
 "'""^"> "' •««"■"»•. -A™,„„rN."rl. " '"' """ ""' "'<»' beguiling 
 
 If 
 
r 
 
 fi 
 
 400 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READKR. 
 
 from early pears. But when we remember how omni- 
 vorous he is, eating h s own weight in an incredibly short 
 time, and that Nature seems exhaustless in her invention 
 of new insects hostile to vegetation, perhaps we mcy 
 reckon that he does more good than harm. For my own 
 part, I would rather have his cheerfulness and kind neigh- 
 borhood than many berries. 
 
 W M; 
 
 LXXXIX. THE OLD CRADLE. 
 
 
 Hti^ 
 
 Llu^lii 
 
 I IP ! 
 
 m 
 
 w 
 
 ■W 
 
 i-.i 
 
 liik 
 
 Frederick Locker. — 1821- 
 
 * 
 
 And this was your Cradle ? Why, surely, my Jenny, 
 Such cosy dimensions go clearly to show 
 
 You were an exceedingly small pickaninny 
 Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago. 
 
 Your baby-days flow'd in a much-troubled channel ; 
 
 I see you, as then, in your impotent strife, 
 A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel, 
 
 Perplex'd with the newly-found fardel of Life. 
 
 To hint at an infantile frailty's a scandal ; 
 
 Let bygones be bygones, for somebody knows 
 It was bliss such a Baby to dance and to dandle, — 
 Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes. 
 
 Ay, here is your Cradle ; and Hope, a bright spirit, 
 With Love now is watching beside it, I know. 
 
 They guard the wee nest it was yours to inherit 
 Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago. 
 
 It is Hope gilds the future. Love welcomes it smiling , 
 Thus wags this old world, therefore stay not to ask, 
 
RUGBY CHAPEL 
 
 cnen raise not its mask 
 
 Poonful of pap to a mouthful of dust 
 Little changed since you we' t? "°'"' 
 
 401 
 
 XC. RUGBY CHAPEL. 
 
 NOVEMBEK. 1857. 
 
 Matthew ARNoi.u.-iSaa- 
 COLDLV, sadly descends 
 The autumn-evening. The field 
 
 Strewn with its dank yellow drifts 
 Of vvuher'd leaves, and the elms 
 fade into dimness apace, 
 a shout 
 
 Silent 
 
 From a few boys late at their play 
 
 In the 
 
 .^hts come out m the street 
 school-room windovvs-but cold, 
 
402 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 E?:' 
 
 |M» 
 
 i \ 
 
 I 
 
 Solemn, unlighted, austere, 
 Through the gathering darkness, arise 
 The chapel-walls, in whose bound 
 Thou, my father ! art laid. 
 
 There thou dost lie, in the gloom 
 
 Of the autumn evening. But ah ! 
 
 That word, gloom, to my mind 
 
 Brings thee back in the light 
 
 Of thy radiant vigor again ; 
 
 In the gloom of November we pass'd 
 
 Days not dark at thy side ; 
 
 Seasons impair'd not the ray 
 
 Of thy buoyant cheerfulness clear. 
 
 Such thou wast ! and I stand 
 
 In the autumn evening, and think 
 
 Of bygone autumns with thee. 
 
 Fifteen years have gone round 
 Since thou arosest to tread, 
 In the summer-morning, the road 
 Of death, at a call unforeseen. 
 Sudden. For fifteen years. 
 We who till then in thy shade 
 Rested as under the boughs 
 Of a mighty oak, have endured 
 Sunshine and rain as we might. 
 Bare, unshaded, alone, 
 Lacking the shelter of thee. 
 
 O strong soul, by what shore 
 Tarriest thou now ? For that force, 
 Surely, has not been left vain ! 
 Somewhere, surely, afar, 
 In the sounding labor-house vast 
 Of being, is practis'd that strength, 
 Zealous, beneficent, firm ! 
 
^UGBY CHAPEL, 
 ^es in some far-shining sphere, " 
 
 St II thou performest the word 
 
 J^rompt, unwear,ed, as here ! 
 ;S 'H thou upraisest with .eal 
 
 li^e humble good from the ground 
 Sternly repressest the bad ' 
 .^,f ' ^''^^^ ^ ^^"nipet, dost rouse 
 
 Ihose who with half-open eyes 
 1 read the border-land dim 
 J vv,xt vice and virtue ; reviv'st 
 Succ:orest --this was thy work,' 
 1 his was thy life upon earth. 
 
 What is the course of the Mi^ 
 
 Of mortal men on the earth ?- 
 Most men eddy about 
 
 Here and there-eat and drink, 
 
 Cliatter and love and hate, 
 father and squander, are rais'd 
 Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust, 
 Striving bimdly, achieving 
 Nothing; and then they die— 
 Pensh-and no one asks 
 
 ^Vho or what they have been 
 More than he asks what waves. 
 In the moonlit solitudes mild 
 
 ^oamd for a moment, and gone. 
 
 And there are some, M^hom a thirst 
 Ardent, unquenchable, fires, 
 Not with the crowd to be spent 
 Not without ami to go round 
 
 403 
 
 \[ 
 
404 
 
 11 i 
 
 II: ' 
 
 > U 
 
 H i i 
 
 T//E HIGH SCHOOL READER, 
 
 In an eddy of purposeless dust. 
 
 Effort unmeaning and vain. 
 
 Ah yes ! some of us strive 
 
 Not without action to die 
 
 Fruitless, but something to snatch 
 
 From dull oblivion, nor all 
 
 (Jlut the devouring grave ! 
 
 We, we have chosen our path — 
 
 Path to a clear-purpos'd goal. 
 
 Path of advance ! — but it leads 
 
 A long, steep journey, through sunk 
 
 Gorges, o'er mountains in snow. 
 
 Cheerful, with friends, we set forth — 
 
 Then, on the height, comes the storm. 
 
 Thunder crashes from rock 
 
 To rock, the cataracts reply ; 
 
 Lightnings dazzle our eyes ; 
 
 Roaring torrents have breach'd 
 
 The track, the stream-bed descends 
 
 In the place where the wayfarer once 
 
 Planted his footstep— the spray 
 
 Boils o'er its borders ! aloft 
 
 T>>e unseen snow-beds dislodge 
 
 Their hanging ruin ! — alas. 
 
 Havoc is made in our train ! 
 
 Friends, who set forth at our side, 
 
 Falter, are lost in the storm. 
 
 We, we only are left ! — 
 
 With frowning foreheads, with lips 
 
 Sternly compress'd, we strain on, 
 
 On— and at nightfall at last 
 
 Come to the end of our way, 
 
 To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks ; 
 
 Where the gaunt and taciturn host 
 
 Stands on the threshold, the wind 
 
^^'OBY CHAPEL 
 
 Shaking his thin white hairs- 
 Holds his lantern to scan 
 
 Whom m our party we bring ? 
 Whom we have left in the snow ? 
 
 Sadly we answer : \\^e bring 
 Only ourselves ! we lost 
 
 '^ght of ,he rest in the storm. 
 
 ^^ends companions, and train, 
 The avalanche swept from our Lde. 
 
 But thou would'st not a/one 
 Be saved, my father \ a/one 
 C^onquer and come to thy goal 
 Leaving the rest in the wild ' 
 We were weary, and we 
 Fearful, and we in our march 
 Fa.n to drop down and to die. 
 St.ll thou turnedst, and still 
 Beckonedst the trembler, and still 
 ^xavest the weary thy hand 
 ^^ in the paths of the world 
 
 Stones might have wounded 'thy feet 
 loil or dejection have tried 
 1 hy spirit, of that we saw 
 
 Nothmg-to us thou wast still 
 
 Cheerful, and helpful, and firm. 
 1 herefore to thee it was given 
 
 JVlany to save with thyself • 
 And, at the end of thy day 
 O nuthn,l shepherd ! to come 
 Bnngmg thy sheep in thy hand 
 
 405 
 
f^ 
 
 406 
 
 II ! 
 
 u 
 
 R"4 
 
 7 HE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 And through thee I believe 
 In the noble and great who are gone ; 
 Pure souls honor'd and idlest 
 By former ages, who else- 
 Such, so soulless, so poor, 
 Is the race of men whom I see — 
 Seem'd but a dream of the heart, 
 Seem'd but a cry of desire. 
 Yes ! I believe that there liv'd 
 Others like thee in the past, 
 Not like the men of the crowd 
 Who all round me to-day 
 Bluster or cringe, and make life 
 Hideous, and arid, and vile ; 
 But souls temper'd with fire. 
 Fervent, heroic, and good. 
 Helpers and friends of mankind. 
 
 Servants of (iod ! — or sons 
 Shall I not call you ? because 
 Not as servants ye knew 
 Your Father's innermost mind, 
 His, W..J unwillingly sees 
 One of his little ones lost — 
 Yours is the praise, if mankind 
 Hath not as yet in its march 
 Fainted, and fallen, and died ! 
 
 See ! In the rocks of the world 
 
 Marches the host of mankind, 
 
 A feeble, wavering line. 
 
 Where are they tending ? — A God 
 
 Marshall 'd them, gave them their goal.- 
 
 Ah, but the way is so long ! 
 
 Years they have been in the wild ! 
 Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks. 
 
kt/GBY CHAPEL. 
 
 Rising all round, overawe • 
 tactions divide them, thei; host 
 Threatens to break, to dissolve - 
 
 Ah, keep keep them combinedl 
 ■e-ise, ofthe myriads who fill 
 That army, not one shall arrive • 
 
 See they shall stray; on the rocks 
 liatter forever in vain, 
 
 I^ie one by one in the waste. 
 Then, in such hour of need 
 
 Ofyour fan ting, dispirited race, 
 Ve, like angels, appear, 
 
 Radiant with ardor divine 
 Beacons of hope, ye appear ! 
 ^anguor is not in your heart, 
 Weakness is not in your word 
 Weariness not on your brow ' 
 Ye alight in our van ! at you'r voice 
 Panic, despair, flee away 
 Ve move through the ranks, recall 
 The stragglers, refresh the outworn, 
 l^raise, re-inspire the brave. 
 Order, courage, return • 
 Eyes rekindling, and payers, 
 Follow your steps as ye go. 
 
 Ye fill up the gaps in our files 
 Strengthen the wavering line ' 
 Stablish, continue our march', 
 On, to the bound of the wastL 
 On, to the City of (;od. 
 
 407 
 
 nat know roe greater than ,he soui? 
 
 On God and Goditke men we build our trust 
 
 TlCNNYSOAt 
 
THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XCI. IN THE ORILLIA WOODS. 
 
 Charlks San(;stkk.— 1822- 
 
 Mv footsteps press where, centuries ago, 
 The Red Mcw fought and concjuer'd ; lost and won. 
 Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow, 
 Have found the Eternal Hi:nting-( Grounds, and run 
 The fiery gauntlet of their active days, 
 Till few are left to tell the mournfultale : 
 And these insj)ire us with such wild ama/e 
 They seem like spectres passing down a vale 
 Steep'd in uncertain moonlight, on their way 
 Towards some bourn where darkness blinds the day, 
 And night is wraj)p'd in mystery ])rofound. 
 We cannot lift the mantle of the past : 
 We seem to wander over hallowVl ground : 
 We scan the trail of Thought, but all is overcast. 
 
 Thkrk was a timk -and that is all we know! 
 No record lives of their ensanguin'd deeds : 
 The i)ast seems palsied with some giant blow, 
 And grows the more obscure on what it feeds. 
 A rotted fragment of a human leaf; 
 A few stray skulls ; a heap of human bones ! 
 These are the records— the traditions brief— 
 Twere easier far to read the speechless stones. 
 The fierce Ojibwas, with tornado force. 
 Striking white terror to the hearts of braves ! 
 The mighty Hurons, rolling on their course, 
 ComiXKt and steady as the ocean waves ! 
 The firey Iroquois, a warrior host ! 
 Who were they ? --\Vhence ?-And why ? no human 
 jue can boast ! 
 
GoLDwtN Smith.— T823- 
 
 /'>W« COWPKH. 
 
 Thi- u-orld into which Cowpcr cim. 
 verse to him, an.l at the sime^ "' ""= ^"V ^d- 
 
 '"'"• 't was a woH r,:; rh t ""^" '" ■'•-•^'' ^^ 
 
 seemed to have flcH. There c " w h ' '''"■" "^ ''"^•"•>' 
 "f ""•« tl,a„ the oceunation of . u"" ''™"Scr ,.oof 
 
 Shakx.speare,a,HlMiltrtth/ .' """'''"^ "^ ^P^"-^' 
 Kevc.iution „f ,6XS , '•"■ch-versificr Pope. The 
 
 ><e.o,utio„ ;i-cf • Titr::;r tT'''^'^^ ''-^•- 
 
 P-tly ratified, it was profou '. I^'o ^c" s""! '"'r" 
 I'K'on, the source of \L\,^„ „ ^ Prosaic, Spiritual re- 
 
 <>f Milton, was almos e" i„ct^ l" ™'' ^"' °^ "-' l»«^y 
 
 a great extent mere W'hfes with :r -T" '^^"'""^ '" 
 tendency. The Church wf h't Mt t" 1 ''"':'":''^" 
 force cultivated and manipulate 1 hp '"' P'''"''^*' 
 
 t"eir o« n purposes The b11 ^ '' '"' ''="*^' ^"^ 
 - theolojcal polemic! "lfect,rtrT"''r P"'''''^'-^' 
 
 rree-thinK..a?tit,estohiSl^e '^^ 
 
 elcrgy as a bod-,- were far ne- ^^^ '.'"'^""ent. The mferioi 
 
 tl>an to Dr. I'rimrLse ' '" character to Trulliber 
 
 -luties, shamel "; , Ji^X' ^"""''' .-^"-tf"' "f their 
 
 ft'natics in their Tory ™": 'j° ^^"r'" "^' P'"""^'-' 
 !»rate privileges cold rnf '^'^'^hment to their cor- 
 
 of the day is mirrored in fj "* ^^^ soc ety 
 
 works of Field 
 
 in.fT 
 
 pohsh 
 
 \\ 
 
 and Smollett • I 
 
 pictures of Hogarth in the 
 
 as the best of it ; and 
 
 iard and heartless 
 
 "ot a little of it 
 
 was 
 
4IO 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Marriage a la Mode. Chesterfield, with his soulless cul- 
 ture, his court graces, and his fashionable immoralities, 
 was about the hiL;hest type of an luiglish gentleman ; 
 but the Wilkeses, Potters, and Sandwiches, whose ir;uiia 
 for vice culminated in the Hell-fire Club, were more 
 numerous than the Chesterfields. Amon^ the country 
 squires, for one All worthy, or Sir Roger de Coverlc}-, there 
 were many Westerns. Among the common i)eople 
 religion was almost extinct, and assuredly no new moral- 
 ity or sentiment, .such as Positivists now promise, had 
 taken its place. Sometimes the rustic thought for him- 
 self, and .scepticism took formal po.ssession of his mind; 
 but, as we sec IVoin one of Cowper's letters, it was a 
 coarse scepticism which desired to be buried with its 
 hounds. Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage. 
 Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike. 
 Gambling, cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the 
 amusements of the people. Political life, which, if it 
 had been pure and \igorous, might have made up for the 
 absence of spiritual influences, was corrupt from the top 
 of the scale to the boLlom : its effect on national charac- 
 ter is portrayed in Hogarth's Election. That property 
 had its duties as well as its rights, nobody had yet ven- 
 tured to say or think. The duty of a gentleman to- 
 . wards his own class was to pay his debts of honor, and 
 to fight a duel whenever he was challenged by one of his 
 own order ; towards the lower class his duty was none. 
 Though the forms of government were elective, and Cow- 
 per gives us a description of the candidate at election 
 time obsequiously soliciting votes, .society was intensely 
 aristocratic, and each rank was divided irom that below 
 it by a sharp line which precluded brotherhood or sym- 
 pathy. Says the Duchess of Buckingham to Lady Hun- 
 
 f 
 
f 
 
 IN THE ElGHTEF.XTir CENTURY. 411 
 
 tingdon, who had asked her to come and hoar Whiteficld, 
 " I thank your ladyship for the information concernini;:' 
 the Methodist preachers ; their doctrines are most repul- 
 sive, and stron^^ly tinctured with disrespect towards llunr 
 superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level all ranks 
 and do away with all distinctions, it is monstrous to 
 be told you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches 
 that crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and 
 insultmg ; and ! cannot but wonder that your lady- 
 ship should relish any .sentiments so much at variance 
 with high rank and good breeding. I shall be most 
 happy to come and hear your favorite preacher." Her 
 Grace's sentiments tcnvards the common wretches that 
 crawl on the earth were shared, we may be sure, by her 
 Grace's waiting-maid. Of humanity there was as little 
 as there was of religion. It was the age of the criminal 
 law which hanged men for petty thefts, of life-long im- 
 pri.sonment for debt, of the stocks and the pillory, of a 
 Temple Bar garnished with the heads of traitors, of the 
 unreformed prison .system, of the pre.ss-gang, of unre- 
 strained tyranny and savagery at i)ublic schools. That 
 the slave trade was iniquitous hardly any one suspected ; 
 even men who deemed themselves religious took'part in 
 it without .scruple. But a change was at hand, and a still 
 mightier change was 'in prospect. At the time of Cow- 
 per's birth, John Wesley was twenty-eight, and Whitefield 
 was seventeen. With them the revival of religion, was 
 at hand. Johnson, the moral reformer, was twenty-two. 
 Howard was born, and in less than a generation Wilber- 
 force was to come. 
 
 That is best biood that hath most iron m V 
 To edge resolve with, pouring without stint 
 For what makes manhood dear. 
 
 .Ia.mks Russki.l LowET.r,, 
 
 I 
 
 t\ 
 
4«« 
 
 THE irrair school reader. 
 
 XCIII. CHARACTER OF CROMWELL. 
 
 f.OI.DWIN SMITH— 1823. 
 
 From TiiKRK English Siatksmkn. 
 
 Great questions concerning; both the Church and the 
 Slate arc still open ; and till they are settled the judpf- 
 ment of history on Croniwcll can scarcely be fixed. To 
 sonic the mention of his reign still recalls a transient 
 domination of the powers of evil breaking through the 
 .livine order of the political and ecclesiastical world. 
 Others regard his policy as a tidal wave, marking the 
 line to which the waters will once more advance, and 
 look upon him as a ruler who was before his hour, and 
 whose hour perhaps is now come. Here we must take 
 for granted the goodness of his cause, and ask only 
 whether he served it faithfully and well. 
 
 Of his genius there is little question. Clarendon him- 
 self could not be blind to the fact that such a presence 
 as that of this Puritan soldier had seldom been felt upon 
 the scene of history. Necessity, "who will have the man 
 and not the shadow," had chosen him from among his 
 fellows and placed her crown upon his brow. I say 
 again, let us never glorify revolution : let us not love the 
 earthquake and the storm more than the regular and 
 beneficent course of nature. Yet revolutions send capa- 
 city to the front with volcanic force across all the 
 obstacles of envy and of class. It was long before law- 
 loving England could forgive one who seemed to have 
 set his foot on law ; but there never, perhaps, was a time 
 when she was not at heart proud of his [ylory, when she 
 did not feel safer beneath the icgis of his victorious name. 
 As often as danger threatens us, the thought returns, not 
 
 

 
 Cff.ij!,tcrsji OF CRcmnui.. 
 
 tlic Gn;at Usurper in .>,• ,>., ' ""= ■"'"'■" "f 
 
 Of Crom. 1 ,, ;C"' ,: ■""':'= '*""'■' f-'h '" "nn. 
 who can hone in sn^ " ^, '' "'°"' '''>"'"• And 
 
 accurately e ,n pulsr!! "' \ """■"'"• '" '''■^"•"»^--^h 
 
 to pierce the sec. • of Z. ci i T h "r^T 'w ""'""'"• 
 trust the envious suggestions o'f L h Tb Lrvl?" I"-? 
 
 ::z :CH:ett^- ^,-'"^'"- of sX: a^s 
 fro. obsc::!;;rvo:r V -;; ?rcr ^ ■'-■^^'r > 
 
 only, but detraction rude " he - .„ f r " °^ '™'' 
 ••p.oughed his „orious way to peletrd tr" th r " "r^^'^ 
 witnesses arainsthiimr^n^f 'ce and truth! These 
 Ludlow is sure th r r T""^ """""^ themselves, 
 
 arch-hypocr „ p^lw 1""'^ ' P'"^'='' ">= P-' "^ an 
 in Sco'^fand b t'C Huvh" '° •°"""'"'" "^<= ='™'' 
 
 he was an ar h-hypocHte on oir" " "'•" "'^" "■""«'> 
 was sincere After till .u . °«"'^'on». on this he 
 quest of Inland when t.^^^ °^"^'^ "^'"S- '"'tcr the eon- 
 
 un in his :S i:t"rrt,r:"Li?R^T''r T 
 
 •iaughter of a private gentlenl ll ' '° ""^ 
 
 tl>o»«h not covftously, a^lTe :se' Cu^a^r"^ 
 't seems, for nothing so much as tlv^?» V "''"S' 
 which the connection was formed ' uldVrt •"" 
 Can KU.ard have been then, in hisSs"^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -mies tor hi.. Lui taut this man's religion 
 
IM: 
 
 m 
 
 ,.j^ 
 
 H 
 
 ill 
 
 riTE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 was sincere, who can doubt ? It not only fills his most 
 private letters, as well as his speeches and dispatches, 
 but it is the only clue to his life. For it, when past 
 forty, happy in his family, well to do in the world, he 
 turned out with his children and exposed his life to 
 sword and buPot in obscure skirmishes as well as in 
 glorious fields. On his death-bed his thoughts wander- 
 ed, not like those of Napoleon among the eddies of 
 battle, or in the mazes of statecraft, but among the 
 religious questions of his youth. Constant hypocrisy 
 would have been fatal to his decision. The double- 
 minded man is unstable in all his ways. This man was 
 not unstable in any of his ways ; his course is as straight 
 as that of a great force of nature. There is something 
 not only more than animal, but more than natural in his 
 courage. If fanatics so often beat men of the world in 
 council, it is partly because they throw tho die of earthly 
 destiny with a steady hand, as those whose great treasure 
 is not here. 
 
 Walking amid such perils, not of sword and bullet 
 only, but of envious factions and intriguing enemies on 
 every side, it was impossible that Cromwell should not 
 contract a wariness, and perhaps more than a wariness, 
 of step. It was impossible that his character should not, 
 in some degree, reflect the darkness of his time. In 
 establishing his government, he had to feel his way, to 
 sound men's dispositions, to conciliate different interests; 
 and these are processes not favorable to simplicity of 
 mind, still less favorable to the appearance of it, yet 
 compatible with general honesty of purpose. As to 
 what is called his hypocritical use of Scriptural language, 
 
 OCriptUiai language vv^ :3 xii3 nanVc lOnj^uv-. in i\. nv- 
 
 spoke to his wife and children, as well as to his armies 
 
 » ki^-^iwmmitiifm^ < 
 
lis most 
 patches, 
 en past 
 orld, he 
 3 life to 
 ill as in 
 wander- 
 ddies of 
 Dng the 
 ^pocrisy 
 double- 
 nan was 
 straight 
 mething 
 al in his 
 world in 
 r earthly- 
 treasure 
 
 d bullet 
 ;mies on 
 )uld not 
 variness, 
 )uld not, 
 me. In 
 1 way, to 
 nterests ; 
 licity of 
 r it, yet 
 As to 
 mguage, 
 
 ♦-» « 4- V» ^ 
 
 s armies 
 
 CHARACTER OF CROMWELL, 
 
 415 
 
 the design, perhaps notl^^^^^M. tH ""T '"""'"' 
 felt the desirp \r,f '""^f^a'ble that he should have 
 
 gives the wshto ut IL"" 'j'!' ^''^ "^'^^ P-ers 
 one who knows th^t he c!"; " ■"""* ''^ ^'''^' f"^ 
 
 berore great th^J tT^TZ:'^^^ '^'' 
 things have been done for a ^r.^fT^ ™ 2'''=^' 
 
 »cene, the victor of Nas b" Sa "a 'd^W " '""''"""" 
 savior of a nation's cause. rLaybereadv^T''''' *' 
 evening- hour nfrr^o^ , ^ *° welcome the 
 
 Cro^/elStrrhZttnTf^aff- T'^''^"^ ■■^' "''^ 
 home. "^^ of affection and a happy 
 
 G.^tLt:::t:st;!:7or^:^rj,- - ^-°- 
 ntr -'rrr-^- -- -n^::^pi::r4ra^,- 
 
 civlLtion g 'on'Tr " '" ""°^^ ''^^°'"- '^ ^ 
 approachabf, Xe h' i^e": ^t" if Ife TT "- 
 struggle which the world has seen V , ^" ^''^^ 
 
 the hero, but an intelligent and „„L;°T' "'' "°' 
 whatever age the, .ay belo^nt th greTtelT 'the''"' ': 
 god-hke of men, are men, not gods Th! ' I ""''' 
 spring, though the highes't offsp'rin^ ofllal' Th"" 
 would be nothing without their fellow-men Did C "" 
 well escape the intoxication of poweT whTch 1^' . ""j 
 the brum of other favorites of fortune and h.\"f. 
 always as one who held th. ^J."!^!"^ ''"" '""^^'f ■ 
 God ? It was becau.se he waT one^f 1 ^.l' ' '™'* ''°™ 
 m he, amidst the temptations oZblt^a^'irpfe^^ 
 
 I 
 
 l4 
 
 
4T(5 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 II ' 
 
 »M. 
 
 his reverence for law, and his desire to rci^n under it? 
 It was because he was one of a law-loving people. Did 
 he, in spite of fearful provocation, snow, on the whole 
 remarkable humanity ? It was because he was one of a 
 brave and humane people. A somewhat large share of 
 the common qualities— this, and this alone, it was which 
 circumstances calling him to a high trust, had raised 
 him above his fellows. The impulse which lent vigor 
 and splendor to his government ■ came from a great 
 movement, not from a single man. The Protectorate, 
 with all its glories, was not the conception of a lowly in-* 
 tellect, but the revolutionary energy of a mighty nation 
 concentrated in a single chief. 
 
 XCIV. TOO LATE. 
 
 Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.— i8a6- 
 
 CouLD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas. 
 
 In the old likeness that I knew, 
 I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas, 
 
 Douglas, Douglas, tender and true. 
 
 Never a scornful word should grieve ye, 
 I'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do, 
 
 Sweet as your smile on me shone ever, 
 Douglas, Douglas, tender and true. 
 
 to call back the days that are not ! 
 
 My eyes were blinded, your words were few ; 
 Do you know the truth now up in heaven, 
 Douglas, Douglas, tender and true ? 
 
 1 never was worthy of you, Douglas, 
 Not half worthy the like of you \ 
 
■^.nOK MUNDI. 
 
 Now all men beside ,,eem to me like shadows - 
 I love j.«, Douglas, tender and true. 
 
 Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douslas 
 Drop forg,veness from heaven like dew, ' ' 
 
 As lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas 
 Douglas, Douglas, tender and true 
 
 417 
 
 XCV. AMOR MUNDI. 
 
 Christina Georoina Rossetti.— 1830- 
 "O WHERE are you going with your love-Iocks flowing 
 On the .^s. wind blowing along .his valley track r 
 The down hill path is easy, come with me an i, please ve 
 We shall escape the up-hill by never turning bS" ' ' 
 
 So they two went together in glowing August weather 
 
 And dl:r "'""/ '^^"^^ '"^ '° '"^'^ '^« -'right . 
 And dear he wa. to doat on, her swift feet seem'd to float on 
 The a,r like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alighl 
 
 "^m^lt '!!" "i'''^'" ""^'^ 8'^y doud-flakes are seven 
 
 Oh, thats a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous 
 An undecipher'd solemn signal of help or hurt." ' 
 
 """'tMckly!' "'' '"'" '^"'^"^ ""^"^ -'-' «°wers grow 
 
 ""oh^hlV'l™ '^ ''°"°"'' " ^'^ ' """"^ 'o follow ?" 
 Oh, that s a thin dead body which waits the eternal term." 
 
 !lll 
 
4i8 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 "Turn again, O my sweetest,— turn again, false and fleetest : 
 This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is hell's own track." 
 
 " Nay, too steep for hill mounting ; nay, too late for cost count- 
 ing : 
 This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back." 
 
 XCVI. TOUJOURS AMOUR. 
 
 : 
 
 Edmund Clarence Stedman.— 1833- 
 
 Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin, 
 At what age does love begin ? 
 Your blue eyes have scarcely seen 
 Summers three, my fairy queen, 
 But a miracle of sweets. 
 Soft approaches, sly retreats, 
 Show the little archer there. 
 Hidden in your pretty hair ; 
 When didst learn a heart to win ? 
 Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin ! 
 " Oh !" the rosy lips reply, 
 " I can't tell you if I try. 
 'Tis so long I can't remember : 
 Ask some younger lass than I." 
 
 Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face, 
 Do your heart and head keep pace ? 
 When does hoary Love expire, 
 When do frosts put out the fire ? 
 Can its embers burn below 
 All that chill December snow ? 
 Care you still soft hands to press, 
 iJonny heads to smooth and bless ? 
 
ENGLAND. 
 
 When does Love give up the chase ? 
 Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face ! 
 "Ah !" the wise old lips reply, 
 " Youth may pass and strength may die ; 
 But of Love I can't foretoken : 
 Ask some older sage than I !" 
 
 419 
 
 XCVn. ENGLAND. 
 
 Thomas Baii.f.v Aldricii.— 1836- 
 While men pay reverence to mighty things, 
 They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle 
 Of England— not to-day, but this long while- 
 In the front of nations, Mother of great kings. 
 Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the Sea flings 
 His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile 
 And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile. 
 Thou sittest, and the East its tribute bn'ngs. 
 Some say thy old-time iK)wer is on the wane. 
 Thy moon of grandeur filFd, contracts at length— 
 They see it darkening down from less to less. 
 Let but a hostile hand make threat again, 
 And they shall see thee m thy ancient strength, 
 Each iron sinew quivering, lioness ! 
 
 \'\\ 
 
 Such kings of shreds ha7ie wodd and inon her, 
 
 Such crafty knaves her hxurel own'd, 
 It has b era me a /most an. honor 
 Not to be croivn'd. 
 
 Thomas Bailey Alhrich. 
 
 On Popularity. 
 
 IJil 
 
430 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XCVIII. ROCOCO. 
 
 Thomas Bailey Aldkich. 
 
 By studying my lady's eyes 
 
 I've grown so learned d- I - dpy, 
 
 So Machiavelian in this w..; - 
 
 That when I send her flov* ..a, I say 
 
 To each small flower (no matter what, 
 (ieranium, pink, or tuberose, 
 
 Syringa, or forget-me-not, 
 Or violet) before it goes : 
 
 " Be not triumphant, little flower. 
 When on her haughty heart you lie. 
 
 But modestly enjoy your hour : 
 She'" weary of you by-and-by." 
 
 XCIX. KINGS OF MEN. 
 
 John Reade.— 1837- 
 
 As hills seem Alps, when veil'd in misty shroud, 
 
 Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance ; 
 Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud. 
 
 To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance ? 
 Must we conspire to curse the humbling light, 
 
 Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bow'd. 
 Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight, 
 
 Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd ? 
 Oh, no ! God send us light .'—Who loses then ? 
 
 The kmg of slaves and not the king of men. 
 
THALATTAI THAI.ATTAI 
 True king, ^,, ^^^^^ ,„^ ^^^__ ^ 
 
 That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud. 
 
 421 
 
 C. THALATTA I THALATTA 
 
 I 
 
 John Rkaue. 
 
 In my ear is the moan of the nines in «, k 
 
 of the sea, 1^'nes-m my heart is the song 
 
 And I feel his salt breath on my face as h^ .h. 
 
 on me, ^ ^^ showers his kisses 
 
 ^"^in'oTthetr ^"^'^'" "' '"^ «""^' - *«>■ ~ the 
 ^"^ Of T'b rMe.^ '"'^ -'^"^ ^= '^^^ ^"■■-" ■'•^<= Se- on the hrea. 
 
 '™';h-:T„i;o,r'^'""'"°'^^-'-'»'^«,„fsap. 
 
 I-.ke^a«if of those Pat.ian visions that wra„t the lone seer of 
 
 And it see.s_to™,souU,ke an o.ne„ that calls „,e far over 
 But Uhink of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to 
 
 ''^r iorVi^^ '"'' '° ">^ ^- '-^ » --.-e that looks to 
 ^'T„:rore™'' ■■" '^^ ^^^ ^-^ --•-•'-. I can see 
 '°^ tdrlteT" ^ ""^ '"^ «""^^^ °^ '"^ " Va.e of the 
 
 And— hush'd is the song of 
 
 the pines 
 
 song of the sea and hoarse is the 
 
 moan of 
 
If'.r « 
 
 432 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOI. READER. 
 
 t: 
 f * » 
 
 f i.. 
 
 CI. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN. 
 
 AUiKKNON (llAKl.liS SWINUrRNK. -1837- 
 
 In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, 
 At the sea-down's edge l)etvveen windward and lee, 
 
 Wall'd round with rocks as an inland island, 
 'i'he ghost of a garden fronts the sea. 
 
 A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses 
 
 The stee|) s(|uare slope of the blossoniless Ijed 
 
 Where tiie weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses 
 Now lie dead. 
 
 The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken, 
 To the low last edge of the long lone land. 
 
 If a step should sound or a word be sjjoken, 
 
 W'ould a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand ? 
 
 So long have the gray bare waiks lain guestless, 
 Through branches and briers if a man make way, 
 
 He shall find no life but the sea-winds, restless 
 Night and day. 
 
 The dense hard passage is blind and stifled, 
 
 'I'hat crawls by a track none turn to climb 
 To the strait waste |)lace that the years have rifled 
 
 Of all but the thorns that are touch'd not of time. 
 The thorns he spares when the rose is taken ; 
 
 The rocks are left when he wastes the jilain. 
 The wind that wanders, the weeds wind-shaken, 
 These remain. 
 
 Not a flower to be j^rest of the foot that falls not ; 
 
 As the heart of a dead man the seed-plots are dry ; 
 From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not, 
 
 Could she call, there were never a rose to reply. 
 
id, 
 
 f its roses 
 
 d? 
 
 e. 
 
 ■y; 
 
 calls not, 
 
 THE FORSAKEN GARDEN. 
 
 433 
 
 Over the meadows that blossom and wither 
 
 r^ings hut the note of sea-bird's sonir • 
 Only the sun and the rain come hither ' 
 All year long. 
 
 The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels 
 One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath. 
 
 Unly the wmd here hovers and revels 
 
 In a round where life seems barren as death 
 
 Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping, 
 Haply, of lovers none ever will know 
 
 Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping 
 Years ago. 
 
 Heart handfast in heart as they stood, " Look thither » 
 
 Did he whisper? '« Look forth from th. flowers to the sea- 
 For the foam flowers endure when the rose-blossoms ^'ther' 
 
 And men that love lightly may die-but we ?" 
 And the same wind sang and the same waves whiten'd 
 And or ever the garden's last petals were shed, ' 
 
 In the hps that had whisper'd, the eyes that had lighten'd 
 Love was dead. 
 
 Or they lov'd their life through, and then went whither ? 
 
 And were one to the end^but what end who knows ? 
 Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither 
 
 As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose 
 ShaJl the dead take thought for the dead to love them ? 
 
 What love was ever as deep as a grave ? 
 They are loveless now as the grass above them 
 Or the wave. 
 
 All are at one now, roses and lovers. 
 
 Not known of the cliffs and the L\d^ and the sf^a 
 Not a breath of the time that has been hovers 
 
 In the air now soft with a summer to be. 
 
 ili 
 
rf" I* 
 
 mh 
 
 ii 
 
 424 
 
 r///: ///(/// Si7 /(>()/. /a:.U)ER. 
 
 Not a breath shall ilu're swectcti the seasons hereafter 
 Of the llowers or the lovers thai laugh now or weej), 
 When as they that are free n(»w of \vee|>ing and laughter 
 We shall sleep. 
 
 Here tieath may deal not again for ever , 
 
 Here ehange may come not till all ciiange end. 
 
 Krom the graves they have made they shall rise up never, 
 Who have left nought living to ravage and rond. 
 
 Ivuth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing, 
 When the sim and the rain live, these shall he ; 
 
 Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing 
 Roll the sea. 
 
 Till the slow sea rise and the sheer <^liff crumble, 
 Till terrace and meailow the deep gulfs drink. 
 
 Till the strength of the wa\es of the hij^'i tides humble 
 The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink. 
 
 Here now in his triumph where all things falter, 
 
 Stretch'd out on the spoils that his own hand s])read, 
 
 As a god selfslain oii his own strange altar, 
 Deatli lies dead. 
 
 CII. A BALLAD TO QUEEN ELIZABETH OF THE SPANISH 
 
 ARMADA. 
 
 (Baixaok.) 
 
 Austin Dohson.— 1840- 
 
 KiNG Philip had vaunted his claims ; 
 
 He had sworn for a year he would sack us ; 
 With nn army of heathenish names 
 
 He was coming to fagot and stack us ; 
 
^ /••-'// /.^-//^ TO QUEl:!^ l.jj/,Ah 
 
 I.iU' the tl) 
 
 And shntt 
 
 iK'vi's of tlu» sra he 
 
 Milt 
 
 I'l- our ship;; on || 
 
 '.7^77/. 
 
 would track us. 
 
 H' tnaJM 
 
 And 
 
 w 
 
 wo had |)„ld Ni'i.tim,. lo |,.„ k 
 lim-arcthcKallfoiis,,! sp;n,, ? 
 
 us. 
 
 Mis carackes were christcn'd ofd, 
 I'o the kirtlcs vvht-rcof I 
 
 imes 
 
 Uii 
 
 '•-' would lack US 
 
 ' l»s saints and his gilded stern ( 
 "(.' had thoiij^ht lik 
 
 lanit's. 
 
 Now Howard 
 
 And Drake t 
 
 Oiin c--|r shell to < rack 
 '"i'y M*'l I" Ins Flacciis. 
 
 IIS 
 
 <) ins Devon a 
 
 K.iin, 
 
 HIS to j{ac< hiis. — 
 
 And Hawkins howl riihl 
 '•'>»• where are the galleons of Spain ? 
 
 I't't his Majesty hang (o St. | 
 
 '11 
 
 nnes 
 
 H 
 
 K'axe lii;i| he whetted lo hack 
 
 us 
 
 H-r gan)es 
 
 e must play at some hisl 
 
 Oral sea he (an ho|)e to out thwack 
 
 'I o Ins mines of I'erii he would pack u.^ 
 
 IIS 
 
 'i o tug at his hullet and cl 
 
 Alas I that his (;reat 
 But where are the gall 
 
 laui 
 
 ness should lac k us !- 
 
 I< 
 
 leons of Sjiain ? 
 
 NVOV. 
 
 CfF.ORIANA ! the I) 
 
 \Vh 
 H 
 
 on may attack us 
 
 cnever his stomach he fain 
 c must rea. h us hefore he can racl 
 
 And where are the t-all 
 
 k us. 
 
 galleons of Spain ? 
 
 435 
 
 ?><*;' 
 
 Be /ives not hest ivho dreads the . onntti^ pain 
 
 And shuiuietl, au/i dt'/i}^/,t dcsind>le ■ 
 Fi^TMcu KXTKKMKs, /Ais m.rd u/.ne /s j^/ain, 
 Of a// that (;od hath }^iven to Man to s/>e// / 
 
 Anuki.u 1, an*;.- 1844. 
 
 I'rom iyt^tnehfnm the Antique. 
 
riih: I i hill SillOOt. KI.ADEK. 
 
 cm. CIRCK. 
 
 (rHiiii 11.) 
 
 Al'SIIN hollSON. 
 
 In tho School of Cotinottcs 
 
 M.ulatuc Koso is a sc holar : — 
 (), tlu-y fish with all nrls 
 In thi' School of Coiiiiclti's 
 When luM" lnoix h she Ibrgols 
 
 'Tis to sh«)\v Ikt now collar ; 
 In tho School ot*('()(|ncttcs 
 M.ulaiuo Uosc is a scholar I 
 
 CIV. SCENES EUOM "TECIIMSEH."* 
 
 (llAKI.ls M AlU. l8.|0 
 
 ScKNi',. TixuMSKns Cahin. 
 
 F.Ntcr li.N \. 
 
 Tcna. "Pis nij;hl, and Maniatoc is absent still I 
 W hy should this surrow weigh upon my heart, 
 Anil other lonely things on earth have rest ? 
 Oh, could 1 1)0 with them I The lilv shone 
 
 • Thoso soiMu>s aro oiKU'tnl M iho " l'roi>l\ft's Town," an Iiuiian village, situ- 
 atod at tin- junction of tlu> i'i|i|u'i'anoo rivor with tlu- Wabash, tho latter ii 
 trihutaiv of the OMw. 'lerinnM-h is jjuno on a ntission to the Southern In- 
 dians to induee thent to unite in .» confederati.'U of all the Indian tribes, leav- 
 ing his brother, the Prophet, in oh.trjTe of the tribes already assembled, having 
 strictly onjoiiu>d upon him not to quarrel with the Americans, or Long Knives, 
 ns the Indians called them, during his absence, lieneral Harrison. Ciovernor 
 of Indiana, and commander of the American forces, having learned of Tecum- 
 
 vr 
 
.vr^,v/;.v /.-KOM •• /•/, , v'.i/.v/,//... 
 
 I "lor II,.. .;u.. ,„ ,„.„.,, „„ ^„„ ' 
 
 M". I. »„„„«„„,„ „,„y ,„, ,,„,,„„ 
 
 . siuciows „,„,!, ,i„ ..„,, i,„„ „„, „4,,„; 
 
 .Mur,,„„s.,f,l...,,,„i,!„l,„,s,„;ra„l, 
 •'I )vsl..."l.l 1,1,1,. , I,.. ,,,.,,,,,,,,„,,,,,,• ,, 
 
 < " ■ M,., j„y ,„ „. «!„.„ „.,„|,., spri,,,, 
 
 "'",','■' '•' I'-'i ""■ I'y II,.' »i,„r,.s ,„;,„,, 
 
 ^;",'7-"""""^'^-'""'lM.K,:,l:,n„,, '• 
 
 "•■'"•'''77'"" »". Il„.,v>.h™nl 
 
 I "■■",,«,, 1,111 l,,,r,,i,,Ks,,l,|,.,,,,,,,,|,.,..,v,,,,,|, 
 
 ';7""'^";'""' i<"'i "Ml" ihc. i,c.,,ri , ^ 
 
 An,U ,..,,, ho U'i„u.r,r,„„ his ,„„„„lai„s;,ld 
 
 .:;'"'"' "'""' I''."l'. ^'"'1, ", Ih,. Imsly skv 
 
 lie very slars «,...„,-,l h„MK w,lh i, i. Ic», 
 
 "■",a,,,eHsc..,.sc,,rl,...,,,y,:,h,,,,,,,|,,,l,|, 
 ,|,l «;..;,,,, I,,,,, ,.,,,, VM.M;yc.|k„i,,„,,,j|, 
 
 ",iaMHhv,ll„„„|s,„.M„„,^. Alli.S,,„Sl 
 
 A.M ,,. who „.„„ rr,„„ ,„, „„,„ ,,„, ,„, I,;, 
 
 Alul h.. „,y val,;„„ „„,|,. „„| ,„j, ,.^. 
 
 (...l„..s ,„„ ,„ |i„ „,, ,|,„„| ,„,„ ,1,,,,,, , ,„„, 
 
 Aiui sh,..l,l ,„o fr,„„ „„. ne„.h.s„ ,-.!, ph.,' ^Z. 
 
 ^t^:.i*':;„;:r'::::;;;::f„;';:;,;:;';;'- •;'"■ ■ ,» ,„ .„;» 
 
 »'.,y ,„,i,.K |*,c„... ,„,!,, ,,,,,, ' ."■■ """ ""' ''"'I'''"''' •'■""■".-■■a 
 ll„.,...|o„.. „.,., wisd^ „,.l „ " ""■■'" ""»«'' I'' ""•• l"'l"n». 11... 
 
 "'"<"•■ 1 ', , ;; '::;;t'? ",'7:""" '- "^■'™»«8a,„,>„„y 
 
 br».i.o,.,„.,„w ro,. ,.„„ „, ,rp„»i,,K..„;„„,,>;t,;:,,;r™;';."' '^ 
 
 427 
 
 i 
 
I 
 
 428 
 
 IM 
 
 I 
 
 'i 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 Enter Mamatee. 
 
 Give me his answer in his very words ! 
 
 Mamatee. I'here is a black storm raging in his mind — 
 His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud 
 Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth. 
 Hricf is his answer — you must go to him. 
 The Long-Knife's camp-fires gleam among the oaks 
 Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men 
 Are sleei)ing there cajoled to fatal dreams 
 J'y i)romisLS the Proi^het breaks to-night. 
 Hark ! 'tis the war-song. 
 
 J(^fia. Dares the Propliet now 
 
 Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith ? 
 
 Mamatee. He dares do anything will feed ambition. 
 His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue, 
 ^^'hich j;rophesies revenge and victory. 
 Before the break of day he will surjjrise 
 The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate 
 Upon a single onset. 
 
 leiia. Should he fail ? 
 
 Mamatee. Then all will fail ; — Tecumseh's scheme will fail."*^ 
 
 * Tecuniseh had long foreseen that notliing hut combina.'' n could prevent 
 the encroachments f^f the whites upon the Ohio, and had lof. .en successfully 
 endfaxoring to bring about a union of the tribes who inhal' jd its valley. The 
 J'oit Wayne treaties gave a wider scope to his design, and he now originated his 
 ;-reat scheme of a federation of the entire red race. In pursuance of this object, 
 his exertions, hitherto very arduous, became almost superhuman. He made re- 
 ])eated journeys, and visited almost every tribe from the Gulf of Mexico to the 
 (ireat Lakes, and even north of them, and far to the west of the Mississippi. 
 In order to further his scheme he took advantage of his brother's growing repu- 
 tation as a i)rophet, and allowed him to gain a powerful hold upon the sujier- 
 stilious minds of his people by his preaching and predictions. The Prophet 
 l)rofessed to have obtained from the Clreat Spirit a magic bowl, which possessed 
 miraculous qualifies ; also a mystic torch, presumably fnjm Nanabush, the keeper 
 of the sacred fire. He asserted that a certain l>'Mt. said to make t!u;:,e invulner- 
 able who touched it whilst in his hands, was composed of beat . ,vhich had 
 grown from his flesh ; and this belt was circulated far and wide by Indian run- 
 
SC£JVf:s FROM 
 
 l( 
 
 ^ena. It shall 
 
 tecumseh: 
 
 not / Let us go to him 
 
 429 
 
 Mamatt 
 Mamatee. He k n/^f ■ .1. ' 
 
 .■ nar-cnaare heard /„,„ the t„„n. 
 Enter tlu Prophet 
 J'ro/.h^t Afy sj,ells do work anace i Sh 
 
 And ha,f decline tSe"'!'" 'T '' 
 lnflan,ed by ohanns and ^ aclet 7 "" 
 A vengeful serpent, who Z^Z.. 
 
 ^^;^Wlvmfes sleeping camp ,o death. 
 
 ners, finding its u-,,- ~ ' ~~ ~ 
 
 uwji neart.--^,-<;,« Author's Notk. endeared 
 
I u 
 
 ik 
 
 f: I 
 
 I 
 
 1 1 
 
 430 
 
 TNE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Why should I hesitate ? My promises ! 
 
 My duty to Tecumseh ! What are these 
 
 Compared with duty here ? Where 1 perceive 
 
 A near advantage, there my duty lies ; 
 
 Consideration strong which overweighs 
 
 All other reason. Here is Harrison — 
 
 Trepann'd to dangerous lodgment for the night — 
 
 Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast 
 
 A channel of approach ; each winding creek 
 
 A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick 
 
 To think of such advantage flung aside. 
 
 For what ? To let Tecumseh"s greatness grow 
 
 Who gathers his rich harvest of renown 
 
 Out of the very fields that I have sown ! 
 
 By Manitou, I will endure no more ! 
 
 Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs, 
 
 Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer. 
 
 But, soft I 
 
 It is the midnight hour when comes 
 
 Tarhay to claim his bride. [Ca/A.] Tarhay ! Tarluy ! 
 
 Enter Tarhay with several braves. 
 
 Tarhay, Tarhay 13 here ! 
 
 Prophet. The Long-Knives die to-night. 
 
 The spirits which do minister to me 
 Have breathed this utterance within my ear. 
 You know my sacred office cuts me off 
 From the immediate leadership in fight. 
 My nobler work is in the spirit-W'..>ld, 
 And thence come promises which .ake us strong. 
 Near to the foe \'\\ keep the Magic Bowl, 
 Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on. 
 
 Tarhay. I'll lead them ; they arc wild with eagerness. 
 But fill my cold and empty cabin first 
 With light and heat ! You know I love your niece, 
 And have the promise of her hand to-night. 
 
Prophet. She shall be yours I 
 
 43J 
 
 -S'"'^'- lENA «^ MamatEE. 
 
 Vou have forstali'd my mesltr';!,'"' T"' "'''' ' 
 And co„e unbidden L yoTrfedd ^Xe;""'' 
 
 -/^./. But s>,n your hand is here I this h4 hand. 
 ^^m. Dare you enforce a w.,1, 'ifu'?"'^ her forward. 
 
 wr::tsti"z:cr;:5;-r- 
 
 And bustle in our town ? '' """''' "' ""''''' 
 I'rophet. ,^ 
 
 Attack the foe to-night. '"''"' '^^"^ ^^'^ 
 
 n fKof T^ , And risk our all ? 
 
 O that Tecumseh knew ! his soul would rusl^, 
 In arms to intercept you. ^Vha, ! break^th 
 And on the hazard of a doubtful striL ' 
 
 Stake h,s great enterprise and all our lives 1 
 The dymg curses of a ruin'd race 
 
 Iril'^r ^'?™"™'"='"''»« *■- 'his ! 
 Can have \i here 
 
 ere. 
 
 my hand, Tarhay 
 I love you, lena ! 
 
 Jena. Xben must you love what 
 
 I do ! Love our race 
 
432 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ii 11 
 
 * ft •( i 
 
 |)!> I 
 
 'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite 
 Its scatter'd tribes — his fruit of noble toil, 
 Which you would snatch unripen'd from his hand, 
 And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not — 
 Oh, touch it not, Tarhay 1 and though my heart 
 Breaks for it, I am yours. 
 
 Prophet. His anyway, 
 
 Or I am not the Prophet ! 
 
 Tarhay. For my part 
 
 I have no leaning to this rash attempt, 
 Since lena consents to be my wife. 
 
 Prophet. Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool ! [Aside. 
 
 This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good, 
 I know to be a very fiend beneath — 
 Whose sly affections centre on herselt, 
 And feed the gliding snake within her heart. 
 
 Tarhay. I cannot think her so — 
 
 Mamatee. She is not so ! 
 
 There is the snake that creeps among our race ; 
 Whose venom'd fangs wo' ild bite into our lives. 
 And poison all our hopes. 
 
 Prophet, She is the head — 
 
 The very neck of danger to me here. 
 Which I must break at once ! [Aside.] Tarhay — attend ! 
 I can see dreadful visions in the air ; 
 I can dream awful dreams of life and fate ; 
 I can bring darkness on the heavy earth ; 
 I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves. 
 And spectres from the sepulchres of hell. 
 Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death ! 
 Dost hear, Tarhay ? 
 
 [Tarhay and braves cower hejore the Prophet. 
 
 Tarhay. I hear, and will obey. 
 
 Spare me ! Spare me 
 Prophet. 
 
 As for this foolish girl, 
 
SCENES FROM « TECUMSEW 
 
 433 
 
 The hand she offers you on one condition 
 I give to you upon a better one • 
 
 Whth '"It'"' '";" "''' ^^ ^^- ^- hearts 
 VVhich, rest assured, is in her body still- 
 
 1 here,— take it at my hands! 
 {F/ings Iena violently towards Tarhav • . 7 
 
 One touch of it n,akes them invulnerable.: 
 TI.en creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe ! 
 
 The ground s,re„.n n.M iea.i soUiers a„/Zrts 
 Enter Harkkson, officers and soldiers, and Barro« 
 Harrison. A costly triumph reckon'd by our slain i 
 Look how some lie still clench'd with savages 
 In all-embracing death, their bloody hands 
 
 ued m each other's hair ! Make burial straight 
 Of all ahke tn deep and common graves : ^ 
 
 1 heir quarrel now is ended 
 
 1st Officer. X , , 
 
 The red man fears our steel-w:::;!. 
 from the first shots, which drove our pickets n' 
 T.I dayhgh. dawn'd, they rushy upon our te 
 
 All night he sat on yon safe eminence 
 Hovvhng his songs of war and mystery, 
 Ihen fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves. 
 
 Enter an Aide. 
 
 Harrison. What tidings bring 
 
 you from the Prophet's Town ? 
 
434 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Aide. The wretched women with their children fly 
 To distant forests for concealment. In 
 Their village is no living tiring save mice 
 Which scamper'd as we oped each cabin door. 
 Their pots still simmer'd on the vacant hearths, 
 Standing in dusty silence and desertion. 
 Naught else we saw, save that their granaries 
 Were cramm'd with needful corn 
 
 Harrison. Go bring it all- 
 
 Then burn their village down ! [Exit Aide. 
 
 2tid Officer. This victory 
 
 Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base. 
 Were I the Prophet I should drown myself 
 Rather than meet him. 
 
 Barron. We have news of him— 
 
 Our scouts report him near in heavy force. 
 
 Harrison. 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line, 
 And wait lox war. But double the night watch, 
 Lest he should strike, and give an instant care 
 To all our wounded men : to-morrow's sun 
 Must light us on our backward march for home. 
 Thence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story 
 New England will grow envious of our glory ; 
 And, greedy for renown so long abhorr'd, 
 Will on old England draw the tardy sword ! 
 
 Scenf:. — The Ruins of the Prophet's To7i>n. 
 
 Enter the Prophet, who ghmnily sun<eys the place. 
 
 Prophet. Our people scatter'd, and our town in ashes ! 
 
 To think these hands could work such madness here 
 
 This envious head devise this misery ! 
 Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn 
 Such shar]) and fell destruction on our race 
 You might have smiled at lue ! for I have match'a 
 

 435 
 
 £^i/er Tecualseh. 
 Tecmnseh. Devil ' T ho j- 
 Vou sum of ,reacherie?r "T'^ >■"" ^' '^i^t ' 
 Have torn our pconk^'fl'T ™""'' ''''"S^ 
 
 Tecuffiseh. 
 
 Why should I spare you . r'.Tf ^l ^'^^^^^^ •' 
 
 Prophet. ^'-^^^- /'^^- /^^^^^/ as if f, strike 
 
 One mother bore us in th. c ir ^^^^' ^°"*'^ "^^ "ot I 
 "'c us, in the self-same hour 
 
 ---our„;:r^-;":::;---: 
 
 lo'"reme,otheli™i,„f„,^d"am' "'"■ 
 
''I 
 
 
 
 »t 
 
 :; I 
 
 < )i 
 
 '• i 
 
 tt ! 
 
 1 
 
 r//E HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 I'll haste to Maiden, join my force to theirs, 
 And fall with double fury on our foes. 
 Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice ! 
 Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice. 
 
 Enter Lefroy. 
 
 Lejroy. What tidings have you glean'd of lena % 
 
 Tecumseh. My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay — 
 The chief who led his warriors to ruin ; 
 But, in the gloom and tumult of the night, 
 She fled into the forest all alone. 
 
 Lefroy. Alone ! In the wide forest all alone I 
 Angels are with her now, for she is dead. 
 
 Tecumseh. You know her to be skilful with the bow. 
 'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake- 
 Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit 
 Are people of our nation, and perchance 
 She fled for shelter there. I go at once 
 To join the British force. [Exit Tecumseh. 
 
 Lefroy. But yesterday 
 
 I climb'd to Heaven upon the shining stairs 
 Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down. , 
 
 My little flower amidst a weedy world. 
 Where art thou now ? In deepest forest shade ? 
 Or onward, .^'here the sumach stands array'd 
 In autumn splendor, its alluring form 
 Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm ? 
 Or, farther, by some still sequester'd lake, 
 Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake 
 Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard 
 Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird, 
 Save their wild wailings.— [^ haiioo 7vithout.\ 'Tis Tecumseh 
 
 calls I 
 Oh lena I If dead, where'er thou art — 
 Thy saddest grave will be this ruin'd heart ! {Exit. 
 
THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS, 
 
 CV. THE RETURN_OFJHE SWALLOWS. 
 Edmun., William G0SSE.-1849- 
 " Out in the meadows the young grass springs 
 Sh.venng wuh sap," said the brks, "and w' 
 Shoot mto air with our strong young wings 
 
 bpirally up over level and lea ; 
 Come, O Swallows, and fly with'us 
 Now that horizons are luminous ! 
 Evening and morning the world of light 
 Spreadmg and kindling, is infinite !" ' 
 
 Far away, by the sea in the south 
 
 The hills of olive and sloi>es of fern 
 Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth. 
 Under the heavens that beam and burn ; 
 And all the swallows were gather'd there 
 Flittmg about in the fragrant air, 
 And heard no sound from the larks, but flew 
 Flashmg under the blinding blue. 
 
 Out of the depths of their soft rich throats 
 
 ^^ ^ngu.dly fluted the thrushes, and said : 
 Musical thought in the mild air floats, 
 ^ Sprmg IS coming and winter is dead ' 
 
 Come, O Swallows, and stir the air 
 
 For the buds are all bursting unaware 
 And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long 
 1 o hear the sound of your low sweet song." 
 
 Over the roofs of the white Algiers 
 
 Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar, 
 Flitted the swallows, and not one hears 
 
 Sigh d the thrushes; then, all at once, 
 Broke out singing the old sweet tones 
 
 437 
 
I ' 
 
 
 Ui 
 
 {i 
 
 4j8 TIJE ///(,// SCJIOOL READER. 
 
 Singing the bridal ' ' ^ip and shoot, 
 
 'Ihc tree's slow life l>e(.weeii root and fruit 
 
 lUit just when the dingles of April flowers 
 
 Siiiiie with the earliest daffodils, 
 Wiien, before suinise, the cold clear hours 
 
 (Ileani with a promise that noon fulfils, — 
 Deej) in the leafage the cuckoo cried, 
 Perch'd on a s]jray hy a rivulet-side, 
 
 " Swallows, () Swallows, come hack again 
 
 To swoop and herald the April rain." 
 
 And. something awoke in the slumbering heart 
 Of the alien birds in their African air. 
 
 And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart, 
 And met in the broad white dreamy stjuare ; 
 
 And the sad slave woman, who lifted up 
 
 From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup, 
 Said to herself, with a ^\•eary sigh, 
 "To-morrow the swallows wiil northward fly I" 
 
 ^ 
 
 *^ 
 
 «* 
 
 CVI. DAWN ANGELS. 
 
 A. MARY F. ROBINSON.— 1856- 
 
 All night I watch'd, awake, for morning : 
 At last the East grew all aflame, 
 
 The birds for welcome sang, or warning, 
 And with their singing morning came. 
 
 Along the gold-green heavens drifted 
 
 Pale wandering souls that shun the light, 
 
 Whose cloudy pinions, torn and rifted, ' 
 Had beat the bars of Heaven all night. 
 
LE KOr EST MORT. 
 
 These clustor'd round the Uooxx ; but higher 
 A troop of shining spirits went, 
 
 Who were not made of wind or Hre, 
 But some divine dream-clement. 
 
 Some held the Light, while those remaining 
 Shook out their harvest-color'd wings, 
 
 A faint unusual music raining 
 (Whose sound was Light) on earthly things. 
 
 They sang, and as a mighty river 
 Their voices wash'd the night away : 
 
 From East to West ran one white shiver. 
 And waxen strong their song v/as Day. 
 
 439 
 
 CVn. LE ROI EST MORT. 
 
 A. MARY K, ROBINSON. 
 
 And shall I weep that Love's no more, 
 And magnify his reign? 
 Sure never mortal man before 
 
 Would have his grief again. 
 Farewell the long-continued ache, 
 The days a-dream, the nights awike, 
 I will rejoice and merry make. 
 
 And never more complain. 
 
 King Love h dead and gone for aye. 
 Who ruled with might and main, 
 For with a bitter word one day, 
 
 I found my tyrant slain. 
 And he in Heathenesse was bred. 
 Nor ever was baptized, 'tis said. 
 Nor is of any creed, and dead 
 
 Can never rise again 
 
 i 
 
440 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 CVIII. TO WINTER. 
 
 /Charles (}. d. Rohkrts.— 185^ 
 RvLiNo with an iron hand 
 O'er the -ntermediate land 
 Twixt the plains of rich completeness, 
 And the realms <i{ budding sweetness, 
 Winter \ from thy cry.^nl throne, 
 With a keenness all thy own 
 Dartest thou, through gleaming air. 
 O'er the glorious barren glare 
 Of thy sunht wildernesses,' 
 Thine undazzled level glances, 
 Where thy minions' silver tresses 
 Stream among their icy lances ; 
 While thy universal breathing, 
 Frozen to a radiant swathing 
 For the trees, their bareness hides. 
 And upon their sunward sides 
 Shines and flushes rosily 
 To the chill ])ink morning sky. - 
 Skilful artists thou employest. 
 And in chasl -st beauty joyest,— 
 Forms most delicate, pure, and clear. 
 Frost-caught starbeams fallen sheer 
 In the night, and woven here 
 In jewel-fretted tapestries. 
 But what magic melodies, 
 As in the bord'ring realms are throbbing 
 Hast thou, Winter? -Liquid subbing 
 Brooks, and brawling waterfalls. 
 Whose responsive-voiced calls 
 Clothe with harmony the hills. 
 Gurgling meadow-threading nils, 
 
V 
 
 TO WINTER. 
 
 Li\kclets' lisping wavelets lapping 
 Round a flock of wild ducks napping, 
 And the ra|)turous-noted wooings, 
 And the molten-throated rooings,' 
 Of the amorous multitudes 
 Flashing through the dusky woods, 
 When a veering wind hath blown ' 
 A glare of sudden daylight down ?— 
 Naught of these .'—And fewer notes 
 Hath the win :. alone that floats 
 Over naked trees and snows \ 
 Half its minstrelsy it owes 
 To its orchestra of leaves. 
 Ay I weak the meshes music weaves 
 For thy snared soul's delight, 
 ^'Less, when thou dost lie at r'light 
 'Neath the star-sown heavens brij^ht. 
 To thy sin-unchoked ears 
 Some dim harmonies may pierce 
 From the high-consulting sjjheres : 
 'Less the silent sunrise sing 
 Like a vibrant silver string 
 When its prison 'd splendors first 
 O'er the crusted snow-fields burst. 
 But thy days the silence keep, 
 Save for grosbeaks' feeble cheep, 
 Or for snow-birds' busy twitter 
 When thy breath is verj' bitter. 
 
 So my spirit often acheth 
 For the melodies it lacketh 
 'Neath thy sway, or cannot hear 
 For its mortal-cloaked ear. 
 And full thirstily it longeth 
 For the beauty that bcfongeth 
 
 441 
 
 
 Si 
 
442 
 
 p( 
 
 Ipi 
 
 liM' 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 To the Autumn's ripe fulfilling ;— 
 Heaped orchard-baskets si)illing 
 'Neath the laughter-shaken trees ; 
 Fields of buckwiieat full of bees, 
 Girt with ancient groves of fir 
 Shod with berried juniper; 
 Beech-nuts mid their russet leaves ; 
 Heavy-headed nodding sheaves ; 
 Clumps of luscious blackberries ; 
 Purple-cluster'd traceries 
 Of the cottage climbing-vines ; 
 Scarlet-fruited eglantines ; 
 Maple forests all aflame 
 When thy sharp-tongued legates came. 
 
 Ruler with an iron hand 
 O'er an intermediate land ! 
 Glad am I thy realm is border'd 
 By the plains more richly order'd,^ 
 Stock'd with sweeter-glowing forms,-- 
 Where the prison'd brightness warms 
 In lush crimsons through the leaves, 
 And a gorgeous legend weaves. 
 
 l-f'i 
 
 IM 
 
 % 
 
 CIX. ABIGAIL BECKER. 
 
 (Off Long Point Island, Lake hrie, November 24th, 18^4. J 
 Amanda T. Jones. 
 
 The wind, the wind where Erie plunged, 
 Blew, blew nor'-east from land to land ; 
 
 The wandering schooner dippd and langed,— 
 Long Point was close at hand. 
 
J 
 
 ABIGAIL BECKER, 
 Long Poi„t--a swampy island-slant, 
 
 Wolf'; ■''"■" ''"^^^^^^-^^y'^-ne, 
 Woodcock and snipe the hollows haunt 
 And musk-rats build their domes ; 
 
 Where gulls and eagles rest at need 
 
 \\ here either side, l,y lake or sound 
 l--ghshers, cranes, and divers feed ' 
 And mallard ducks abound. 
 
 The lowering night shut out the s,,iu • 
 
 Careen d the ves.d,pitch'd and teer-d-^ 
 Kaved raved the wind with main and m^U • 
 
 The sunken reef she near'd. 
 
 She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank- 
 I^etween two sand-bars settling fast' 
 
 Her leaky hull the waters drank, 
 And she had sail'd her last. 
 
 Into the rigging, quick as thought 
 Captam and mate and sailors s,mmg 
 
 ^'" ^«^^f-^' -- vantage L^^^^^^^ 
 And there all night they swung. 
 
 And it was cold-oh, it was cold ! 
 
 T he pmching cold was like a vise • 
 Spoondrift tlew free.ing,-fold on fold 
 
 It coated them with ice. 
 
 Now when the dawn began to break, 
 
 To mn "'J'^', "'"'-'"'^'^ '^^^"'-'h"^ -^^ brown, 
 lo fill her bucket from the lake 
 Came Mother Becker down. ' 
 
 From where her cabu.crown'd the bank 
 Came Abigail liecker tall and strong ; 
 
 443 
 
M 
 
 ■k^ 
 
 444 THE HIGH SCHOOL /DEADER. 
 
 She dipp'd, and lo ! a broken plank 
 Came rocking close along ! 
 
 She pois'd her glass with anxious ken : 
 The schooner's toj) she spied from far, 
 
 And there she counted seven men 
 That clung to mast and si)ar. 
 
 And oh, the gale ! the rout and roar ! 
 
 The blinding drift, the mounting wave, 
 A good half-mile from wreck to shore, 
 
 With seven men to save ! 
 
 Sped Mother Becker : "Children ! wake ! 
 
 A ship's gone down ! they're needing me ! 
 Your Other's off on shore ; tiie lake 
 
 Is just a raging sea ! 
 
 "Cet wood, cook fish, make ready all." 
 
 She snatch'd her stores, she fled with haste, 
 
 In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl, 
 Barefoot across the waste. 
 
 Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands. 
 And nearer, nearer, full in view, 
 
 Went shouting through her hoilow'd hands : 
 *' Courage ! we'll get you through I " 
 
 Ran to and fro, made cheery signs, 
 Her bonfire lighted, steej^ed her tea, 
 
 Brought drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines 
 Her husband's boat to see. 
 
 Cold, cold it was— oh, it was cold ! 
 
 The bitter cold made wat( hing vain : 
 With ice the channel laboring roll'd.— 
 
 No skiff could stand the strain. 
 
ABrCAlL BECKER. 
 
 On all that isle, from outer swell 
 To strait between the landings shut, 
 
 Was never place where man might dwell, 
 Save trapper Becker's hut. 
 
 And it was twelve and one and two, 
 And it was three o'clock and more 
 
 She call'd : "Come on ! there's nought to do, 
 But leap and swim ashore !" 
 
 Blew, blew the gale ; they did not hear : 
 
 She waded in the shallow sea ; 
 She waved her hands, made signals clear, 
 
 "Swim : swim, and trust to me !" 
 
 " My men," the captain cried, " I'll try : 
 The woman's judgment may be right ; 
 
 For, swim or sink, seven men nmst die 
 If here we swing to-night." 
 
 Far out he mark'd the gathering surge ; 
 
 Across the bar he watch'd it pour, 
 Let go, and on its to})most verge 
 
 Came riding in to shore. 
 
 It struck the breaker's foamy track,— 
 
 Majestic wave on wave uphurl'tl, 
 Went grandly toppling, tumbling back, 
 
 As loath to flood the world. 
 
 There blindly whirling, shorn of strength, 
 The captain drifted, sure to drown : 
 
 Dragg'd seaward half a cable's length, 
 Like sinking lead went down. 
 
 Ah, well for him iluit on the strand 
 Had Mother Becker waited long J 
 
 445 
 
 WWWI i TjUK SSi^^^' 
 
446 rilK HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 And well for him her gras])ing hand 
 And gra|)i)ling arm wore strong ! 
 
 And well for him that wind and sun, 
 
 And daily toil for scanty gains, 
 Had made such daring blood to run 
 
 Within such generous veins ! 
 
 For what to do hut i)lunge and swim ? 
 
 Out on the sinking billow cast, 
 She toil'd, she dived, she groped for him, 
 
 She found and clutch'd him fast. 
 
 She climb'd the reef, she brought him up, 
 
 She laid him gasping on the sands ; 
 Huiit high the fire and fiil'd the cup, — 
 
 Stood u]) and waved her hands ! 
 
 Oh, life is dear ! The mate leap'd in. 
 
 " I know," the captain said, " right well, 
 Not twice can any woman win 
 
 A soul from, yonder hell. 
 
 " ni start and meet him in the wave." 
 
 " Keep back !" she bade : " what strength have you ? 
 And I shall have you l)oth to save, — 
 
 Must work to pull )ou through ! " 
 
 But out he went. Uj) shallow sweeps 
 
 Raced the long white-caps, comb on comb : 
 
 The wind, the wind that lash'd the deeps, 
 Far, far it blew the foam. 
 
 The frozen foam went scudding by, — 
 
 Before the wind, a seething throng, 
 The waves, the waves came towering high, 
 
 They flung the mate along. 
 
 

 have you ? 
 
 ABIGAIL BECKER. 
 
 The waves came towering high and white, 
 They Inirst in clouds of flying spray : 
 
 There mate and caj)tain sank from sight, 
 And, chnching, roU'd away. 
 
 Oh, Mother Becker, seas are dread, 
 
 Their treacherous paths are deep and hhnd » 
 
 But widows twain shall mourn their dead 
 If thou art slow to find. 
 
 She sought them near, she sought them far, 
 Three fkthoms down she gripp'd them tight ; 
 
 With both together up the bar 
 She stagger'd into sight. 
 
 Beside the fire her burdens fell : 
 
 She paus'd the cheering draught to pour. 
 
 Then waved her hands : " All's well ! all's well I 
 Come on ! swim ! swim ashore !" 
 
 Sure, life is dear, and men are urave : 
 
 They came,— they dropp'd from mast and spar ; 
 And who but she could breast the wave. 
 
 And dive beyond the bar ? 
 
 Dark grew the sky from east to west, 
 And darker, darker grew the world : 
 
 Each man from off the breaker's crest 
 To gloomier deeps was hurl'd. 
 
 And still ,he gale went shrieking on. 
 
 And still the wrecking fury grew ; 
 And still the woman, worn and wan, 
 
 Those gates of Death went through,- - 
 
 As Christ were walking on the waves, 
 And heavenly radiance shone about,— 
 
 447 
 
li^ 
 
 ?f 
 
 448 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 All fearless trod that gulf of graves 
 And bore the sailors out. 
 
 Down came the night, but for and bright, 
 Despite the wind and flying foam, 
 
 The bonfire flamed to give them light 
 To trapper Becker's home. 
 
 Oh, safety after wreck is sweet ! 
 
 And sweet is rest in hut or hall : 
 One story J.ife and J)eath rei)eat,— 
 
 God's mercy over all. 
 
 Next day men heard, jiut out from shore, 
 
 Cross'd channel-ice, burst in to find 
 Seven gallant fellows sick and sore, 
 
 A tender nurse and kind ; 
 
 Shook hands, wept, laugh'd, were crazy-glad ; 
 
 Cried : " Never yet, on land or sea, 
 Poor dying, drowning sailors had 
 
 A better friend than she. 
 
 " Billows may tumble, winds may roar. 
 
 Strong hands the wreck'd from Death may snatch 
 But never, never, nevermore 
 
 'i'his deed shall mortal match !" 
 
 Dear Mother Becker dropp'd her head, 
 ^^ She blush'd as girls when lovers woJ : 
 " I have not done a thing," she said, 
 "More than I ought to do." 
 
 THE END. 
 
snatch 
 
 NOTES ON THE SEI.ECTIONS. 
 
 Tt * ^ — 
 
 object should be in every instance otn'T ' "' '--^her's primary 
 
 the author's meaning, a feu- gene, ,1 Z^' ""''': '" ""^-^'-^^ and appreciate 
 
 -5e«rst.adi::::^ri:;:r;;:^^- -dor e..„in ,., ,,,,,_ 
 
 '"^.ar w.th the general meaning of the selt "'"' ''°"'^ '"''^'^^ "^« «'"dent fa- 
 ledge should be t -^d from dav 1 I "' '"^ '^'^ ^"^'^'^^Y of his know 
 
 «-e o 1,, ,r in writing;trsra ;\^7eacVr "' ^^°^^^^^' '^ ''-•"^" - 
 
 On the second reading the studenf. f u "'^' ''^'''°"' °^ paragraph 
 
 the parts of the composition and of the^M ! "" *" *° ''^^'^"'^^ ^ kno.'I.C of 
 parts- the particular meaning of Jo ' nh^'V"' '"'"'^^P^^^-- ^^ 'hes. 
 'n which these are severally comuined o^o^ T'', ^"^ ''"^^"'^^^' ^"^ the ways 
 volve the tracing and comparin^Tthe m " ^^'^'' ^'^'■^'°"^- ^^^^ ^ill in 
 
 ^e explanation of allusion's and o ^^ra .VeT"'^ °' "°^'^' paraphrasing, and 
 both prose and poetry, and even whoHn ^T^"' '^^' «"«^^ P^^^ages of 
 ory; and comparisons might rmTltr'"'' "'°"''* '^ '=°'"""tted to mem 
 sameorsinular thoughts frlSp::,JrdTff''^ *'^^^^^ ^orms in which the 
 author under different circumstance Sn the •'"''°"' " '^ ^''^ ^^'"^ 
 
 the sentences and paragraphs of awe i con" tn,e,T'"'"'"°" °^ '^' ^"""^ture of 
 'n general that by joining together^n.'' composition, it will be found 
 each sentence, we get the sXtane VMhT?' """'°" ^'^^ -'" ''^-/h o 
 l>ke manner the subjects of the severa, '^rT'^'' ""' ^^ connectfng in 
 whole composition. An examinaUon of th ^ f ' ^' ^'' ^" ^''^^^^'^t of the 
 and other poetical elements empLyed shol'^b^ "-°' ''''' "' °' ''^ '"^''•« 
 3tage. also, the student should Inqui"; nto 1^ T. '' ''" ^'^^^- ^"^ ^t this 
 he rnay learn to what extent these a r fleet d in /."' ''' '"' '■■'^-- - that 
 The vanous eloc .conary points should hph u " """'^ ""^^'^ ^^ammation 
 t.on proceeds, each staLa. P ragrap^or 17 '"' " ''"^"'^ °' ^'^^ ^^^^^^^ 
 
 weli balanced.- .„d whether .he. IJk """""""I""' ^he.her ,h, p, "a™ 
 .<«ve,op.e„, .,.he „„„ ide ^,"0 o„ '"'= '°' "" "*'-" '-'dt ftl 
 
 ' (i 
 
 'V ' 
 
4SO 
 
 THE HIGH SCnnOL READER. 
 
 li 
 
 m 
 
 ■'4. 
 
 cnt,c,s,ng ,he work .f any author .s not to point out its defects, or even to dis- 
 cover us n.crits; but, as has been stated above, to enable the student to gain an 
 nccurateap,m.nnt,on of the author's language and sentiments, and. moreover, 
 *o aid h.m m cultivating and strengthening h,s own powers of observation and 
 d>scrin»nat.on. so that he may himself use language with correctness, freedom 
 and force. lo this end. he should be required to wnte frequent essays upon 
 topics suggrsted in the selections; to make both oral and written paraphrases of 
 certain passages, especially of such as arc obscure or involved; and finally to 
 write out an extended abstract or a paraphrase of the whole selection. 
 
 Of course no tracher should allow himself to follow formal rules or prescribed 
 methods of study so closely as to sink his own individuality, which must always 
 be regarded as an important factor in successful teaching. He may frequently 
 vary his methods, even from lesson to lesson, but his teaching will produce the 
 be.st results only whrn he comes to each day's work with some clearly outlined 
 plan of study in his mind. 
 
 In the following notes, sevc-ral selections have been chosen to illustrate in a 
 general way the rules stated above, and have received full annotation- on the 
 remaining selections only a few suggestive and explanatory notes have been given 
 wherever such seemed to be necessary. ' 
 
 III. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 As an introduction to this scene, which is one of Shakespeare's master-pieces 
 the student should read Lamb's tale (Lessons CIL aivJ CIV. in theFuuKiii 
 Rkaokr) or, better still, the three preceding scenes of the play itself. 
 
 Without attempting to give the substance of each speech in orrier which 
 would not be profitable in a selection of this kind, an epitome of the scene 
 might be made somewhat as follows: — 
 
 The Duke's remark to Antonio, and Antonio's reply, prepare us for the further 
 exhibition of malignant temper which Shylock reveals in his answer to the 
 Duke's appeal. Shylock has no regard for what "the world thinks." and dis- 
 dains to give any reason for his cruel course, except that it is his humor to fol- 
 low "a losing suit " against Antonio. His keenness of retort is well shown in the 
 discussion with Bassanio. in which he successfully parries all the thrusts of his 
 antagonist This discussion is interrupt, d by Antonio's illustrations of the Jew's 
 hard-heartedness. I'o the Duke's second appeal for mercy. Shylock retorts by 
 showing that in the Christians' treatment of their slaves he was taught a lesson 
 in inhumanity, which he was not slow to '°arn, and, as he had said previously, 
 it would go hard with iiim but he wouiu jcUvT the instruction. 
 
 ^,1 
 
examining and 
 or even to dis- 
 dent to gain an 
 and, moreover, 
 ibservation and 
 tness, freedom 
 It essays upon 
 paraphrases of 
 and finally, to 
 tion. 
 
 s or prescribed 
 h must always 
 nay frequently 
 ill produce the 
 learly outlined 
 
 illustrate in a 
 tation; on the 
 ve been given, 
 
 Tiaster-pleces, 
 the Fourth 
 
 elf. 
 
 orfler, which 
 of the scene 
 
 ^or the further 
 nswer to the 
 iks," and dis- 
 humor to fo.- 
 shown in the 
 thrusts of his 
 5 of the Jew's 
 ck retorts by 
 Light a lesson 
 d previously, 
 
 TfiE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 -., * 45' 
 
 The arrival of a messenger from P>,H„« 
 court, and while the Duke .s mak ng hh^itlf J '^^ "^^ Proceedings of the 
 
 letter brought by the messenger, an 1^0!^'"'-''" "^ ''' ™""^"'^ °' ^'•^' 
 between Shylock and the \tnxZ^^TTVT^"'^'''^^''''' contest of ^wit " 
 of strength in his legal right, c^^^Z'^^T''''''''^^^^^^^ 
 h.s previous contests. It i only whL K '7'r'n''' '■""'"" '^'^ '^-' ""- ■" 
 l<eener than his own. and her supenow'v is in ' "'' '"'" '"' ''""'^ '^ """" 
 t'^at she has no nnsgiving as to the uclV^ '' '"'"'''"'■*-' ->^«d"etothe fac) 
 
 The entrance of Portia heightens he "'"' "' "'^ "•'■'^'• 
 
 aclvantage is with Shylock :td:t^^^^^^^^^^ "^^ ^ '"'■^ Point the 
 
 of mmd shown by Antonio in his reply toh, on ^"' ''''''''' '''' ''^' "^^J-^-^ 
 Nor would Antonio derive much Jnfor fronrp'*"'^'"^ "°"'' '^'" '^-^•'^"'•"• 
 case at first, for as the Jew had alreadv sho u"'"" ' ".an^gcnu-nt of the 
 
 hardly possible that he should be opened eTen T."" "■""""''-' '''■''''' '^ -- 
 ;:ort,a-s appeal to his .nercy. Failing t^tcuTh' ""'''■""•^ ^"'"^'-'"- -^ 
 h.s avarice, but discovers, as the co r1 ha. e 'L'7' '^'^ ^'" '" '''''' "'-" 
 of Antomo has overcome his cuniditv V , ' ^''^'-'"^■'-•••«'. that his hatred 
 to the advice of Bassanio, l^:^U^,n::^:'''"'7 "^^ '"^- '" -^PP-'''- 
 dehght. shown by his interruption 'of I'^lTe^'^lrrT'^ ''''^^'^'^ 
 Judg^nent; his eagerness to carry out the en.T '''' '' pronouncing 
 
 exact the full penalty in accordle with he "T" '"' '"'^ ^^termination to 
 such intensity of malice that one c 1 o ' bu e7 "■■ °' ''^' '°"" ' ^' -"-' 
 satisfaction, "ot only at seeing Antolfre'd T'^'t ' ^^•^'''"^ "^ -lief and 
 seeing the Jew himself brought to f ce then ^" ^'''' ^'''''''- '^"^ '-^'^o at 
 
 through the literal interpretation a ^e^tr'"''" ^^'^'^ °-" conden.nation 
 demanded. Shylock ha'd repeateX and ^dM ''"" '°"' '''''' '^ '^^ 
 rnercy. and now the strict justice for which he had h"" ""''""-'^ ''"' ''^'""''^'■^ ^- 
 agamst him to his own destruction. '" contending is enforced 
 
 ^nT'atu-pfnS'^^'X^Vt? ,^^- ^-«^^^. 'v , „, 
 
 cksuseof 'what,- p 4" '^r!- nul ,h®?' 8l°ce-and thai. !lsi .til- 
 ;^^use of^^why,': ^;^;,''^'£ he .re,.h construction, in ^S 
 
 pre 
 
 Uncapable.- 
 
 „ . -•<li.ikcspe.ir,. :,lso u,„ ;„.;" """" " "'=" " I" Hie fim X/i" 
 
 th^abethan construction would b" 
 
 different. sJ"')/ e J-.^ clauses are 
 
 
 meanmgs of the prepositions were ess 
 restricted in Shakespeare's time than 
 
 hey are now. This is true also of the 
 mfimtive; as in the use of " to speak ' 
 P-^44, 1. 3 from bottom. ^ ' 
 
 qualify. -A Date, moderate— a com- 
 mon meanmg of the word in Shake- 
 
 onginwasn;k^rz:°n;lh?5:; 
 
 than at present. Soe^. S. cZZ":;] 
 
 XV. lo" '-•^■'"""^■^•^^''^"^^'■'/. Cf. Mark 
 My patience . . fliry. -Antonio's 
 
 
 III; 
 
 m 
 
4Sa 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL KEADER. 
 
 qui( f submission contrasted with Shy. 
 
 'I i 
 
 i!/: ' 
 
 lock.', uncontrollable i .uf.-d. 'l'^v.% 
 thought is further CApanded in the 
 Jines that follow. 
 
 I'he first fiftpcnlinc of this scene fur- 
 nish several exainjiN , t.f the peculiari- 
 ties of Shakesptrrianlinglish. 
 
 That thou . . maUce — You are 
 
 keeping up malice in ippearanci only, 
 Cf. " apparent cruelty. 
 
 Remorse. — I'ity, compassion— the 
 Usual meaning in Shakespeare. Dis- 
 tinguish between remorse and repent- 
 ance by reference to their derivation. 
 ^Vliy ' ' more strange " ? 
 
 Where.— Whereas. These two words 
 are used interchangeably in Shakes- 
 peare. 
 
 Loose. — Remit, release. Sometimes 
 incorrectly written " lose.'" 
 
 Moiety.— Proper'y, the half. Used 
 by Shakespeare m the sense of share, 
 portion. 
 
 Royal merchant. — A complimentary 
 tenn. to indicate great wealth and < - 
 tensive commercial relations, as we n ,v 
 say " merchant prince." Gratiano, in 
 Act m., Sc. 2, applies this f oithet di- 
 rectly to Antonio. In Shakespeare's 
 time, Sir Thomas Grcsham, the founder 
 of the Royal Exchange in London, was 
 honored with the title of " royal mer- 
 chant," having been freciuently employ- 
 ed as the financial agent of (Jueen 
 Elizabeth. The title was more than 
 complimentary when bestowed upon 
 the great Italian merchants who held 
 mortgages upon kingdoms and some- 
 times became the actu.il rulers of prin- 
 cipalities. It is doubtful, however, if 
 Shakespeare had this fact in mind. 
 
 Pluck.— .Show that the force or effort 
 implied in "pluck" is peculiarly ap- 
 plicable here. 
 
 Brassy— of flint.— Instances of what 
 Earle calls X\KzflexionalAm\ the phrasal 
 adjective forms respectively. "Brass" 
 or'" flint" used as an adjective, with- 
 out change or addition, would be an in- 
 stance of ihe Jat form of adjective — 
 Earle's third division. 
 
 From stubborn . . courtesy.— 
 This is the strongest point of the 
 Duke's appeal. " Turk " wa;, in Shake- 
 speare's time a synonym of cruelty. 
 
 Possessed.— Informed — a common 
 meaning in Shakespp.rsrc 
 
 Due and forfeit.— That is, the for- 
 
 feit or penalty nfn' due. This is an 
 example of /t/V/rt'/V;</)'j, a figinfof syn- 
 tax by which two noims arc used in- 
 st(Md of one anci ^.n adjective. 
 
 Deny. — Distinguish from refuse. 
 Which meaning has- it here? 
 Danger- Loss, injury, rather than 
 xposure to loss, etc. ,' which is the 
 usual meaning. In I'ortia's se of 
 " dancer," n. 46. !. 5, we have ai older 
 'iieaning 01 uie word, absolute 1 )wer, 
 full power to do harm, as m Matthew 
 V. 22. 
 
 Your charter. ^.Shakespeare seems 
 to have in mind the city of London, 
 which hvld certain rights by royal char- 
 ter, and was liable to have its charter 
 revoked by the sovercigii. It was re- 
 voked by Charles II. in 1683 to punish 
 the Londoners foi their sympathy with 
 the Whig conspiracies. The meaning 
 appears io be that if the rights of 
 strangers, guaranteed by the charter, 
 were not fesnected, an infringement of 
 (he provisions of the chatter in this re- 
 spect would open the way for its com- 
 plete annulmen^ .\ntonio himself, in 
 Act III., Sc. 3, refers to the necessity 
 of maintaining the law. See also Por- 
 tia's speech . " It must not be," p. 47. 
 CaiTion. — Derived from the Latin 
 caro, flesh, with the addition of an aug- 
 mentative suffix which gives the word 
 a contemptuous force. See //. S. 
 Gram/nar, V 22, Shylock suggests 
 ♦he question and then answers it him- 
 self for the purpose of taunting his op- 
 ponents. 
 
 Ducats. — This coin, formerly com- 
 inon in several continental states, was 
 either of silver or of gold. The value 
 of the silver ducat was about that of 
 our dollar; the gold ducat was rather 
 more than twice the value. It is sup- 
 posed to have received its name from 
 havi' g been first coined in a duchy 
 (L;i n, (///f (?/;/■.?.) Three thousand ducat's 
 would mean in our day not less than 
 25,000 dollars. 
 42. Say. — Suppose I should say. 
 In Act III., Sc. I, .Shylock says of 
 the pound of flesh, "If it will feed 
 nothing else, it will feed my revenge." 
 Ban'd. — Poisoned. Not now used as 
 a verb. 
 
 Some men , . pig.— Note the 
 on-i!.==ion of ihc iciiitivc — coaimon in 
 Shakespeare. 
 
This is an 
 figiiii" of syn- 
 arc used in- 
 live. 
 
 from refuse. 
 ro? 
 
 , rather than 
 which IS the 
 "tia's sc of 
 liavc ai older 
 solute ] >wer, 
 > in Matthew 
 
 speare ?;eenis 
 of London, 
 )y royal tliar- 
 •e its charter 
 It was re- 
 )83 to punish 
 nipathy with 
 rhe meaning 
 he rights of 
 the charter, 
 ringement of 
 tr in this re- 
 fer its com- 
 
 hiinsi'lf, in 
 he necessity 
 ^eealso I'or- 
 t he," p. 47. 
 a the Latin 
 )n of an aug- 
 •es the word 
 
 See //. S. 
 )ck suggests 
 wers it him- 
 Uing his op- 
 
 mierly con>- 
 
 1 states, was 
 
 The value 
 lout that of 
 t was rather 
 :. It is sup- 
 name from 
 in a duchy 
 isand ducat's 
 3t less than 
 
 )uld say. 
 ock says of 
 it will feed 
 y revenge." 
 now used as 
 
 — Note the 
 coaimon in 
 
 pretwiSr^^"^ " '^'■"'™">' in' ' 
 
 tC i'n . '"' ^ \T^ '"■'■^'' '•'^^'^•^'d'' r 
 
 nt-du strved up with an auDle in ,■ 
 mouthu.saruoritetiuSEs ...; 
 
 ^iffection IS that smi,. ..t , "^"J'"' 
 -hetherpleaMmordSirtble"V"i' 
 quality P,-\iT^ L-Mcmal oh ect or 
 
 and .stromr.r-the w.?'L/ ■" ^''^^''' 
 the mind ,.,„" , ^^^"^'i'^ '^'^t^' "f 
 
 force of iL.riif^H^",^ ""^ *'^'-' 
 
 |sveoM,appi,;^;.U'^S^rs 
 
 play, !^ei'er u^ f ate ' H, \ 
 to the moo<i of Xwilf^H'T'''. 
 
 Oiher rradin" h, ,. S ""'^ '''"'^ 
 
 il*. as aKr,,";^^, ,"',= ™°>'Pla".; 
 above „ th„ u ■ "* ^''i'<^' 
 
 the nose " ^^ ^ag-pipes sings i' , 
 
 early English ^ <-ommon m 
 
 That I folio V hi«, ,ir, 
 
 Are you angtiroraH <>_ nr »■ 
 
 scorn which runs"thp.ugh \he fc 
 speech s esneci-illv t„ .; . . ••' ^^ 
 renetftinn rTf • ^ »< -'iceable in his 
 rtpe'ition of Jus queitioa. Note abo 
 
 TifE MERCHAXT OF VENICE. 
 
 453 
 
 thejirit in which he replies to I s- 
 
 i'MaLr':;;.?, ',j^-.,^-;;^-t-h 
 
 .^^'no 'c.re^S'^r'*«-"""t'-!- 
 known> '^ '!" '"''-•"t'ons are 
 
 Offence.-" Offence " means /rWh« 
 
 mm, . ,,,„, Hassanio u^.-stheword 
 t'H t ''*'nse; Shylock renliesis if 
 the second meaning w^ • intended VV- 
 can agree with both. i.,r thty are re. 
 
 y^ id to make no nolae.-'-The 
 
 ■uthorsobjectedtoscarcdy 
 
 J'^'H-ided ihe dericiency 
 
 'V M-nphed from the con- 
 
 ;tii proper ellipsis here. 
 
 nmionwithitl^S/.^''^*-'"''^*^'^""- 
 lo »!♦», ",ysuai liieanmg. 
 
 Let ' , ' j''''" "'■''fation of justice. " 
 A.ei ae have judement r . 
 ' tence be t'iv..,. -^ ;"sment. — i.^t sen- 
 
 Vou buy your^Ses 1;^°?"^ ''^ ' 
 my pound ..f flAh V ' ^^-"' '^^"^''t 
 ni re influenced by merdfnr'n '''• / ^^ 
 
 i;iizabeth. 
 •iny ellips 
 could bfe i' 
 text." Sii 
 FretteK. 
 
 Il 
 
 ti 
 m\ 
 
 treatment ^,;;;;-^^^ 
 
454 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 kf 
 
 Ir ^ i 
 
 ;i,; 
 
 V 
 
 III 
 
 ^^ 
 
 i 
 
 El 
 
 Parts. -Trio use of this word In the 
 sense of finiilovnicnts, offices, is ob- 
 tained from the eoniiJiirison of life to a 
 damn a cf)mparisom made by An- 
 tonio in Alt I., Sc. I. Sec also the 
 celebrated comj)ari.son in yts Yuu I ike 
 II, II. 7. 
 
 Fie. — A natural interjection exprcss- 
 i"k' di.sjjust, contempt. 
 
 Upon my power. By virtue of my 
 authority. 
 
 Bring U8 the letters. - Those who 
 
 set themselves to making Shakespeare's 
 Iiiu?s conform regularly to the rules of 
 her()ic- metre, calltl 1-, " \hti ampfiibtous 
 section," because it is not only the first 
 half of the line in which it stands, but 
 it serve.s also to complete the preceding 
 line. 
 
 44. A tainted wether. — ' ■ Tainted," 
 as the context shows, means infected 
 with disease, wi-akt-ned by disease. 
 I'or the th()Ui,dU expressed in " the 
 weakest . . me," cf. Richard II., 
 "• I. 153 
 
 Forftlture.— Compare with fts use 
 in the Duke's address to Shyloek, p. 
 41. The whetting of the knife is a 
 graphic touch, show ing Shylock's cer- 
 tainty of success and his eagerness to 
 carry out his designs upon Antonio's 
 life. This eagerness is shosvn in seve- 
 ral instances throughout the scene. 
 
 Sole — B0Ul.--On account of the ex- 
 act similarity in the sound of these 
 words the force of the pun would be 
 lost to a listener if not brought out by 
 api^ropriate gestures and inflections. 
 Utter "sole" in a light tone, with 
 rising inflection, and " soul" in a deep 
 prolonged tone, with falling inflection. 
 
 But no metal . . envy —The 
 bitterness of your malice is far greater 
 tlian the keenness of your knife. 
 " Hangman" was a general term for an 
 executioner of any kind. 
 
 Note the contempt in Shylock's re- 
 ply, w-hich give; increased' force to 
 (iratiano's denunciation. 
 
 Inexorable. — An appropriate epithet 
 to denote the unyielding obstinacy of 
 Shyloek. Another rea ling is "in- 
 execrable,' tiiat cannot be execrated 
 enough. 
 
 And for . . accused.— "Justice 
 herself should ba impi*ached for allow- 
 ing thee to live." 
 
 My faith. — The Christian faiUi, 
 
 whicn would be opposed to the doc- 
 trine of Pythagoras, Ih-was an ancient 
 (jreek philosopher who w.is said to 
 have taugh? the doctrine of the trans 
 migration of souli. 
 
 Who hanged . . ilaughtdr.— . 
 An absolute clause, " who heini^ hang- 
 
 ' ed," etc. What rhetorical purpose 
 does this clause serve ? 
 
 I Starved.— The wolf has at all times 
 a lean an ! hungry look. 
 
 To '.pe; . — In speaking. Se^ note 
 on " void empty." Dbscrve the bit- 
 ter, contemptuous tone of Shylock's 
 tetort. 
 
 45. In the Instant. - For Shake- 
 speare's use of prepositions, see note 
 on "void— empty." 
 
 Wwch bettered . . stead.— 
 Write this in the modern English idiom. 
 
 Let hl3 lack estimation.— 
 
 F-et his youthfulnoss be no hindraii'-e 
 to his receiving due respect. The ww- 
 gular •onstruction here \% similar to 
 that in " You may as well , .noise," 
 in .Antonio's speech, p. 4a. 
 
 Whose trial. — For the co-ordinating 
 use of the relative (whose - and his), 
 see //. i\ (.ifi'inmar, \'\. 47, 
 
 You hear . writes.— Note the 
 
 redundant object— a common irregu- 
 larity in Shakespeare. See// 6'. (i'/-r:w- 
 mar, XIV. 16. d. 
 
 I take it.— For the relation of "it " 
 see H S. Grammar, VI. c6. b. 
 
 The dlfrerence— The dispute which 
 is the cause of the present iritd. 
 
 Throughly.— 7'/«/-<;«v^/' and thorout^h 
 are but different forms of the same 
 word, and Shakespeare uses either, as 
 suits the metre. The shorter form ii 
 now confined to the prepositional use, 
 and the longer to the adjectival. 
 
 46. In such . proceed. — So 
 
 strictly in accordance with Venetian 
 law that no flaw can be detected in 
 your jirocedure. 
 
 The quality . . strained.— The 
 trait or quality which we call mercy is 
 not exercised on compulsion; its na- 
 ture is to act freely. Observe how 
 naturally this speech arises out of the 
 preceding dialogue. Portia uses die 
 word "must" without the notion of 
 compulsion— in its moral i^nm \ Shy- 
 lock purposely mistakes Portia's mean 
 ing, and uses'the word with more em- 
 phrt>i*— in its legal sense. 
 
 -.,» 
 
:<l to the doC" 
 kvris ;in ancitiit 
 ' w.is said to 
 ! of thtt trans 
 
 Biaughur— 
 
 in tein_i; lianjj- 
 •rical purposu 
 
 ns at ail times 
 
 iig. S"^ note 
 
 istrve till- Itit- 
 
 of Shylock's 
 
 -For Shakt- 
 on>i, sec note 
 
 ■tead — 
 
 F2n<jlisli idiom. 
 jstimatloD. - 
 
 111) liindraii'i! 
 
 ct. The \\\\'.' 
 
 Xi similar tu 
 
 11 . .noise," 
 
 2. 
 
 co-ordinntiiiff 
 e ~ and his), 
 
 47. 
 
 B8.— Note the 
 umon irregu- 
 .'// S. (.Irani- 
 
 ation of "it" 
 c6. b. 
 
 LJispute which 
 t triid. 
 
 and thoroui^h 
 of the same 
 ises either, a.s 
 lorter form h 
 )ositional use, 
 ,'ctival. 
 
 proceed.— So 
 ith Venetian 
 2 detected in 
 
 •ained.— The 
 
 call mercy is 
 sion ; its na- 
 !)bserve how 
 ses out of the 
 rtia uses the 
 he notion of 
 I sense ; Shy- 
 'ortia's mean- 
 ith more em- 
 
 TJ/E MERCHANT OF VENICE, 
 
 Itdroppeth . . beneath. -point 
 
 pa iicular refen>nce to the use of 
 'Iroppeih ■■ and "gentle.' I„ \Iat 
 Si.ris^.t^r' .V''' ''\'P^.'-«i«'ity with which 
 ran IS sent 'on the just and on the un- 
 u- is mention.-,! as an ins,,,,,,,, of 
 the b.vme mercy. A similar c.n.pari- 
 xTx^^r's.^''^".'" KccIcsiaSs 
 phrases f,,.„. lu-aven/' " upon . . 
 
 It 18 twice . takeB.--"Alu.au- 
 tiful version of the divine Christian 
 
 ?o receive.''' '''"'"' '"'"""'''^ '" ^'''' ""'" 
 
 'TIS mlgiitlest . . mlghtieat- 
 
 It was evidently a favorite id.a with 
 
 amiable th..;.x ,, i,,,,^.^^ mix.-d with 
 gentleriess." i. Measure for M,^, 
 II. 2, he says, It is excellent to have 
 
 to use It like a ^riant." And indeed 
 
 hor\TT '"iv^"'-"'' l-^abclla pleads fo; 
 her brother s hfe, contains several pas- 
 ■ sages which breathe the same senti- 
 mentsas I'ortias strain of " heaven Iv 
 eloquence. 'caveiuy 
 
 Shows.- -Represents, is the emblem 
 . ,,\ compare with the meaninir of 
 
 emporal, and give the correlative 
 
 uT.n /■ "' r" "''-' ^'■ff'-'ri-'nce be- 
 i\s een Jorce and power 
 
 The attribute . . blnw — The 
 
 expressions ''awe and majesty '•and 
 dread and fear" n,ay be merelv n- 
 sSeTf"^ 'he ".^'-'«f duplicates fof the 
 iake of emphasis; but there is probablv 
 a reference to the iwo-fold power or 
 chgmyofkmg.ship-"awe"Wni?g 
 o the supernatural power which the 
 Kmg was supposed to possess as the 
 vicegerent of the Deity, and "majesty" 
 to the power which he possesses as the 
 chosen leader or chief of the nation 
 inese two characteristics of kinirlv 
 power, symbolized by the sceptre pro- 
 duce in ordinary men the correspond- 
 ing emotions of dread -AmX fear. In 
 hhakespeare's time the doctrine of the 
 divine right of kings vv.is well under- 
 Stood, and It became a subject of con- 
 troversy even before his death The 
 king m Ha?nht, iv. 5, lia^- faith iu the 
 protecting power of the '• divinity tliat 
 dothii.;(jgcakiijg,'! 
 
 4S5 
 
 rhephra.se, "of kings." is use<l ob 
 jectively~the dr.a.l and fear of men 
 for kings. Ihe wm- „f a singular verb 
 with a compounti subject is common in 
 Niakespeaiv, especially when ihe sub 
 jcct follows the verb, as here. Sei- // 
 I ^Uramwar, XI 11, 30(2) 
 
 But mercy . . himself -Xote 
 
 thedimax in th.'.se three lines. 
 
 Likest.— Comjjarison by means of 
 the sufiixes er and est was more >.,.,„•. 
 ral with the I'li.abethan wriu-rs than 
 now .S,v //. .V. Crammar, \\\ 34 
 
 Seasons.— Teiiipris ^" 
 
 In the course . . ualvatlon.- 
 
 Compare Psalm (x,,,,,, ;,, .i.i.l simi- 
 lar i)a.ssages in the liible, 
 
 That same prayer.- h has been 
 
 objected that it is out of place to refer 
 the ]^x>, to the ( hri.tian doctrine of 
 salvation ; but altli<,ugh Shakespeare 
 probably had the Lords prayer imme- 
 diately in mind, the .sentiment is ol.ler 
 than the .Mew Testament, being found 
 1. the prayer bocks of the Jews. See 
 also I'.eclesiasticus X.Wiii. 2. 
 
 Follow.— Insist upon. Coniparewith 
 abo"r "^ " '■"""^ ■ '" I'ortias speecL 
 
 My deeds . . head.—Shylock is 
 
 prepared to accept thec.n.sequenees of 
 his act. Compare the exclamation of 
 he Jewi.sh mob at the cmcitix,on of 
 the Saviour, Matthew .x.wii 2? 
 
 Penalty -forfeit. - 1 )ist i ng. ,ish 
 a ^^J^'i^j'^^^^^'-^^'^till^ay "discharge 
 
 47- Malice . . truth.-A really true 
 orlionest man would be satisfied' with 
 the recovery of his debt, and if Shvlock 
 will not accept Hassanio's offer 'it is 
 a proof that his aim is no longer the 
 property at stake, but the life of An- 
 tonio ; that in fact he is asking the 
 court to help him to murder Aiuonio 
 under the forms of a civil suit. Com- 
 pare what Portia says, p. 51 : ■• For it 
 ^^X'^I!*'^ "'anifest proceetling," etc. 
 viJi Th' • ^a^--\I''^'<^' the law 
 wh .hor n 1 °f^''"', "I' ^'^^ question 
 
 ^,lo. , K *'■'"*' ''" "'^■'•''il interpre- 
 Th « "''^^\? '^"^ ^'"^'^ of justice 
 
 wiuonu-s.'^-™-^"-''^-''-" 
 
 It must . . established. -Fach 
 
 refev^nce „uide by Portia to the Vtne 
 t*an lavM arengthcns mur. and nio^e 
 
456 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READEn. 
 
 m 
 
 iM 
 
 
 % 
 
 the jew s position : the law cannot im- 
 pugn him ; the law will support him in 
 his claim ; the law ;.r n/ic/tangeahle. 
 
 And many . . state. -So perhaps 
 fenylock intimated in his speech, p. 41 
 A Daniel . . thee.— Shakespeare 
 alludes to the story of Daniel related in 
 the History of Si/sanna, one of the 
 apocryphal books, which were read in 
 churches in Shakespeare's time. Shy- 
 lock is so overjoyed with Portia's de- 
 cision that he uses the rhetorical "thee" 
 in addressing her. This use of the sin- 
 gular pronoun is also observable in 
 Shylock's interruptions, p. 48 ; wnereas 
 in his more formal speech, " When it 
 is paid." etc., he employs " you." For 
 the Elizabethan distinction between 
 -thou" and "you," see Abbot's 
 b/iakespeanan Grammar, par. 231 
 
 Thrice thy money.— Should not this 
 be "twice," etc.? See Bassanio's 
 speech aoove, and his speech on page 
 43 ; but see also Shvlock's second 
 speech on page 50. Shvlock's daughter, 
 Jessica, is rejiresented as saying (Act 
 HI. Sc. 2) that she had henrd her father 
 swear " that he would rather have An- 
 tonio's flesh than twenty times the 
 value of the sum that he did owe him " 
 Forfeit.— Forfeited. Sce/y.S. Gram 
 mar, \'III. 44. 
 
 48. For the Intent bond.— It 
 
 i.s the intention of the law that even,' 
 penalty due upon evcrv boiul shall be 
 paid, and the law is fully apjjlicable in 
 l!iis case. 
 
 ^ More elder. -See //. 5. Grammar, 
 
 I have them ready - A • sense 
 construction." See// s; (Grammar 
 V . 13. '1 he plural form of • balance ' 
 was rarely used in Shakespetire's day 
 Account for the plural form of such 
 words as balances, bellows, etc which 
 refer to a single article. 
 
 'Tweregood charity —Is the 
 
 sequence of tenses correct ? 
 
 This is Fortia's last appeal to Shy 
 lock. Every effort she has made to 
 touch his heart only serves to reveal 
 more clearly hit nuirderous intentions. 
 
 It la still hbi use.— Note different 
 meanings of "still " and of " use." 
 
 An age of poverty.— Show how I 
 'J age '' comes to have the mf.aning of j 
 " old age," whigh it has heiu i 
 
 end.— fexpresstya 
 
 The process 
 
 clause. 
 
 49- Speak . . death.— Speak wfcll 
 of me after I am dead. 
 
 And he repents.-" Repent" hero 
 means to regret , in the preceding line 
 It seems to have the stronger meaning, 
 /(' grieve tc excess. It cannot mean 
 that Antonio wishes his friend not to 
 show any grief at all for his loss. 
 
 For If . heart.— Punning in 
 the midst of tragic scenes is not un- 
 common in Shakespeare. Cf. Richard 
 ll.,n.\, where the dying John of Gaunt 
 puns on his name. 
 
 A wife which.— In the Elizabethan 
 age the modern distinction between 
 7M()and which was not established. 
 Cf. ' ' Our Father which art in Heaven " 
 I would lose you. -Compare 
 
 liassanios previous declaration, p. 
 44. 11. I, 2. Rassanio, in his anxiety 
 for the safety of hi.'- friend, does not ap- 
 pear to realize the extravagant r.aturo 
 of his {iroposod sacrifice. 
 
 So she could vaXr^^V— Provided 
 that she, etc. See also p. 52, 1. 7 The 
 same lack of dignity may be observed 
 mCJratiano's speech when contrasted 
 with that of Bassanio, as in Nerissa's 
 •speech when contrasted with that of 
 1 ortia. 
 
 Barrabas.— So spelled in Tyndale's 
 ni , ^ "^^"■tlalc's translations of the 
 Bible I he metre requires the accent 
 on the first syllable, as on "pursue" 
 below 
 
 Shylock's daughter had married Lo- 
 renzo a Christian, without her father's 
 knowledge or consent, and the thought 
 of tnis intensifies the bitterness of Shv- 
 lock s scorn. 
 
 Jot— From ?(?/-«, the smaUest letter 
 of the Greek alphabet. This word is 
 not usually applied to a liquid. 
 
 If Shylock had a right to the pound 
 of flesh as Portia decided tlwt he had 
 should not the law grant him the povKcr 
 to get possession of it regardless of the 
 blood It was necessary to shed in cut- 
 tnig It out? 
 
 so. Conflscate.-S«e H. S. Gram- 
 mar, VIII. 44. 
 
 upright judge. -Gratiano now 
 
 take.<= delight in taunting Shylock, and 
 nis delight -s no doubt inf^r'-ac^rj h., 
 the r«nicTObrance of Shylock's previous 
 
 , ( 
 
-fexpresstya 
 
 . — Speak wfcU 
 
 Repent " hero 
 Dreceding line 
 ger meaning, 
 cannot mean 
 friend not to 
 lis loss. 
 -Punning in 
 es is not iin- 
 Cf. Richard 
 ohn of Gaunt 
 
 Elizabethan 
 ion between 
 
 established. 
 
 in Heaven." 
 I. —Compare 
 laration, p. 
 
 his anxiety 
 does not ap- 
 gant naturo 
 
 . — Provided 
 ;2. I. 7 The 
 be observed 
 I contrasted 
 in Nerissa's 
 ith that of 
 
 n Tyndale's 
 
 )ns of the 
 
 i the accent 
 
 " pursue" 
 
 narried Lo- 
 her father's 
 the thought 
 ess of Shy- 
 
 allest letter 
 liis word is 
 lid. 
 
 the pound 
 wit he had, 
 1 the povvcf 
 Jless of the 
 hed in cut- 
 s'. Gram- 
 
 tiano now 
 ylock, and 
 creased hy 
 's previous 
 
 -ntemptuous rcA^n-nce to his (Gra- 
 
 A Just pound. --An exact pound 
 In the substance . scruniA 
 
 hef?d^?V7^'°^ ^°^-^ the meaning 
 wrSi? ^-^^^ ^ clisadvantn|e~a 
 
 hin^ oice upo,'the^tip, Y l^^^Z 
 the ancent grudge I bear hi„,"^l' 
 another proof that Shylock did ''con- 
 trive against Antonio 
 . He bath refused . . bond ^'bi, is 
 
 law h\.?r '"''^ '^'- Jeu woul^f'i'n 
 law na\e the privilesje of chaneinp- hW 
 niind and taking what he h?d^ pfe 
 ously refused. Other instances E 
 be adduced to show that the prS 
 nigsatthetria' are not stricdy in al 
 
 British law. I he truth is, that in this 
 
 able' Zl' °''"'" T^*-'^ "°t ^° J""tifi-' 
 able, the law was found " capable of 
 
 ;;S,'?f"t'"'h^-illofitsadmini? 
 
 51- I'll stay , . question. -Ill 
 
 argue the matter no further. 
 
 Alien.— here, opposed to ci/ii^en I 
 1 he Jews had commercial but no no- 
 it.cal rights. Vv'hen did the Jews ol - ' 
 
 'The «S' ^f.^'fi^'-'^^'-iP in Hritain? 
 . The party.-" Party " is here used 
 m Its slnctlv legal sense. 
 
 In the mercy. -We still say -m 
 the power '■ but " at the mercv'-an 
 instance of " ',e npparentlv capricious 
 change .n the use of preposition's!'' 
 
 Gainst . . voice - Is this phrase 
 
 nnr'''""V° t'.'^'"«i""'g? If not, What 
 purpose does U serve ? 
 
 For it appears . . defendant 
 
 ~mu !^ ^° "istances in proof of this. 
 The danger . . rehears'd— Ex- 
 
 plain. Distinguish from " danger, " us 
 used elsewhere in the lesson. 
 
 Forhalf.— As tohaf 
 
 General state.— The "privy coffer " 
 or treasury, of the Stata 
 
 TifE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 457 
 . Whfch . . line.— Which submi. 
 
 commuter' r' "'^y indue/ me"'t; 
 Lonmuite for a hne 
 
 mu^s? noM^*°°^°'"- ^"»°"'o's share 
 « not be commuted 
 
 May take my life . . uve - 
 
 finfdu!°th?ta*t^*^«-'^— -tthe 
 
 --"a^;u:!;^v?s^-,.^-he 
 
 property for the benefit o Lon < am'! 
 theirs Sh.f i^t property become 
 
 pumshment whicl^ l.itS'p;o ^^IT 
 to mflict IS a just and natural on"' W 
 tomo, with characteristic generosi v 
 
 i?f^;??StS;/^*"'-'^^ '- --'S 
 
 Presently.- Immediately Xote ti,,, 
 
 ' lae fiabit of procrastination which 1,,= 
 put />reseu,,, farther -and fa ,) • oT 
 C ompare the change in fiy .S t 
 
 -S^^^MaSr^n^"^----^- 
 
 Of all . . possessed.— "In re- 
 
 itM3resem7sS^^°'^- ""^^'^^^^^^ ^-^ 
 1 pray you . . sign it. -The ereat 
 mental distress here shown by ShyToS 
 must be expressed in reading fi^.h; 
 AvW quality of voice. Thesae 
 ciuahty IS required, though in a less 3e^ 
 gree, in reading most of what Shylock 
 ^ays after, and beginning with the 
 
 ■|'r','V'"P- 5°= "Isthafthe law '■ 
 1 he difference between theM'/orui and 
 ^-^^/fura/ qualities of voice may be 
 shown by contrasting the reading of 
 tu.e passages with those in tlie earlier 
 art of the scene, m which Shylock ex- 
 presses his hatred and scorn 
 Ten more—That is, to make up a 
 
 Kanihltl- '^i""^ -PP-r^ to h^fv! 
 ueen an old juke. In one of Ben Ion 
 on s plays the jurymen are cSd 
 .'godf^nhers-in-law." •■ Urin-" 1,''^ 
 in a double >.eM-P ., -r-.' f" "s*^^ 
 
 I 
 
 I l"*^ 
 
 • 
 
 ifl: 
 
 Ui a double 'iPM'-p -1 -T-i- f~ 
 
 1 he. sentence of ajurv ^m.,/./a man 
 
 to the gallows ; the godfather, acam. 
 

 r ■ 
 
 - f 
 
 If 
 
 45S 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 pitniid the convert to 
 the second meaning, 
 
 the 
 see 
 
 fontr 
 Acts 
 
 For 
 XXI. 
 
 Desire . . pardon.— An idiotn 
 
 coniinon in Shakespeare, Spenser, and 
 the older writers, 
 
 Serves you not.- -Is not at vour dis- 
 posal. 
 
 Gratify. - Reward, recompense. 
 
 Illustrate by exanijjles from the se- 
 lection differences tetween tlie lan- 
 guage (jf Shakespeare and that of our 
 day. 
 
 Kefer to expressions or jjassages in 
 
 the selection which exhibit traitsof char- 
 acter of the persons represented. 
 
 Point out instances of race preju,.ice 
 in the selection. 
 
 How is it that a man of such keen 
 intellect as Shylock fails to see the 
 weak points in his case? 
 
 An article entitled "The Sisters of 
 Portia," in Shakespeana/ia for Novem- 
 ber, i886, shows that in the early years 
 of the sixteenth century Shakespeare 
 might easily have found the type of 
 Portia among the literary ladies of nor- 
 thern Italy. 
 
 IV. OF BOLDNESS. 
 
 The pu:p:,se of this Ess.ny i*|«mndemn vain self-assurance or presumption 
 to which P.acon gi% ,•> the name 0/ - Jioldness. " 
 
 5^^. Grammar-school text.— In the 
 
 Latin translatK.n of the lOssavs execut- 
 ed under Bacons supervision, this ex- 
 pression is rendered hv " <//VAvv//w," 
 which means a faniiiiar'witl\- saying. ' 
 Fart.— (Jualitieation. 
 Action. — liacoti here interprets the 
 expression of Demosthenes literallv, 
 with the meaning of i^esliciilation. h 
 i.s possible that Demosthenes int(Muled 
 the meta|)horieal meanini,'-, ciiiolioii, on 
 the_ principle that an (iratoruho v. isiies 
 to impress others niu^l .^liow lliat he 
 hnnself feeN what lie sjj.aks. I'or an 
 interesting referene(> to the answer of 
 I)einosthenes, see the extract from 
 I-raiikhns's diary for 1784, .juoted in 
 the article, " iViijaiiiin Franklin," in 
 the Eiuyclopadia Jh-i/u/iiiira 
 Virtue. -E.\ceilence,ace()niplishiiient 
 There is . . wise.- Discuss this 
 statement. 
 
 Is taken.— Is charmed, captivated. 
 Civil business. -With what is this 
 contrasted ? 
 Which are the greatest part 
 
 other senses in which it is used, and 
 trace tN" connection. 
 Mountebanhs - (^)uacks, impostors. 
 I Ihe word is of Italian origin, meaning 
 1 one who mounts a henrh (It. banco) to 
 I proclaim the virtues of the medicines 
 ; which he sells. 
 
 ' Politic body. — The State. rhese 
 words are now generally used in re- 
 versed order. 
 
 54. So these men . . ado.— This 
 sentence contains several old forms of 
 expression whose meanings should be 
 carefully noticed. 
 
 Wooden posture.- Stiff, awkward 
 expression. This meaning of "wooden" 
 was common with old writers, and is 
 not unh-ccjuent in ourdav. 
 
 A Stale.— That is, sta innate— a posi- 
 tion in a game of chess, when the kin"- 
 IS not in check, but the player has no 
 "lo »■ left except such as wiuld place 
 Ins king m check. In this case the game 
 IS ai\ni.<n. 
 
 (iive examples from this and the 
 preceding selection to show that for 
 
 ,, . - = x"-"- »• I i-'n-v.i-i.iiiii' seieciior 
 
 hw'-^liS"' """■ ''"'""''" '■''^''^'- j ^';^'°'"' '^'•^^"^^^^ '^"'' -'^or, Eli.a- 
 
 PODular states Vnt . h „ , ,'''''''" " «"P'''-i"'- to Mod,.rn I-nglish 
 
 ropuiar Slates.— .Note the u.se of 1 but is surpassed in cleanu'ss l.v .iV 
 
 "popukir " m Its primary sense. CJiNc I latter. tlcaincs.s by the 
 
\^ 
 
 ibit traits of char- 
 presented, 
 of race preju..ice 
 
 m of such keen 
 "^ails to see the 
 ? 
 
 ' The Sisters of 
 ana for Novem- 
 1 the early years 
 iry Sliakespeare 
 ind the type of 
 ry ladies of nor- 
 
 ir presumption, 
 
 it is used, and 
 
 Lcks, impostors, 
 srigin, meaning 
 h (It. banco) to 
 " the medicines 
 
 State. 
 ly used 
 
 These 
 in re- 
 
 . ado.— This 
 
 il old forms of 
 ings should be 
 
 ■^tiff, awkward 
 g of "wooden" 
 writers, and is 
 y. 
 
 If mate — a posi- 
 when the king 
 ! player has no 
 s would place 
 I ease the game 
 
 this and the 
 
 show that for 
 
 vigor, Eliza- 
 
 Klcm iMiglish, 
 
 'arnes.'j by the 
 
 OF CONTENTEDNESS. 
 VI. OF CONTENTEDNESS. 
 
 459 
 
 o h; ' 'Tlh ' : ""T""- '"'"' "^""^ ^'^°"^h'^ °f ^he other sentences 
 cl^ unrance7.nT'/^^^ as follows :-The wise man adapts hi n..self to 
 
 of Cod is nr H ^^'-'^'^^^^ ""'^ ^ -"^^^^^ spirit, in submi.sision to the will 
 
 of sl'eTce Lte -.^^ "' ''"''■^'''- ^'"'^^ -ntentedness is a virtue 
 
 such e.xcellence, a ,s proper to enforce it by the strongest of obligations. 
 
 Beside our being. —■■ Beside ' means 
 no/ connected with. 
 
 56. For this alone . . nothing 
 
 —Compare Paul's sentiment in Philin- 
 pians IV. II, 12. 
 
 .^^sapeelng . . appetite. -E.x- 
 
 pamed by the clauses that immedi- 
 ately follow. 
 
 Composes . . accident. -Con- 
 tents himself with his present circum- 
 stances Trace the different expres- 
 sions of this thought throughout the 
 paragraph. 
 
 57 A proportion . . fancy —A 
 jiroportion suited to the fancy What 
 does the writer illustrate by his refer- 
 ence to beauty f 
 
 . Andse . . felicity. ~Happin«6s 
 
 IS not determined by rule, that is bv 
 any particular state of fortune ; it de- 
 pends upon one's dispo.sition and senti- 
 
 Wm •© man . . bo.— Compare 
 tn*" in Hamlet, 11, 3, "There 
 
 iSH'. 'f^rgood or bad, but think- 
 
 ing makes n .,<,." 
 
 Bnmities of sad chances.— The en- 
 vious feelings that are likely to be 
 aroused by comparing our misfortunes 
 with the success of others. 
 
 Point out instances of the peculiar 
 use of connectives, and of the omis- 
 sion of words necessary to complete the 
 sense. 
 
 Contentedness . . religion - 
 
 i his IS the subject of th«- paragraph, 
 and, in fact, c^ the two ne.xt par.i- 
 graphs. ' 
 
 Rather want. -Give different mean- 
 ings of " want." In what sense is it 
 used here } 
 
 My patron . . baked Show 
 
 connection m meaning wiih what pre 
 
 cedes. 
 
 58. 
 or dejection. 
 
 A/fAlan/ihAl 
 
 of iiielaiicholy j p. 38^ 
 
 Master . . act.— See note on 
 parts," p. 454. 
 
 Refuse no circumstances.— Are de- 
 terred by no difficulties or dangers that 
 attend the performance of duty. 
 
 Angel of Judea- Angel of Persia 
 
 —In the book of Daniel, and elsewhere 
 in the Bible, the guardian angels or 
 "princes" of Persia, Israel, etc are 
 spoken of. Thus, Michael is called 
 the prince of Israel. Perhajjs the tenth 
 chapter of Daniel furnishes the key to 
 what IS stated here. 
 
 In his proportion. — Relativelv 
 " Proportion " seems to be a favorite 
 word of the author, used in the sense 
 of what falls to one's lot after a just 
 division or distribution. The duty of 
 submission to the will of God is taught 
 in this paragraph. Trace the connec- 
 tion with the main subject, as stated in 
 the preceding paragraph. 
 
 For . . ways.— What is gained 
 by using the interrrogative form in 
 these sentences? How ore they con- 
 nected in thought with tie preceding 
 paragraph? Compare th.> sentiment 
 of the last sentence of th(; paragrajih 
 wrtb Newman's experience, as revealed 
 in {#w poem, Lead, Kindly I.iir/it ,„ 
 the FoL'KiH Kkader. 
 59- Contentedness . . spirit — 
 
 liiis is till second division of the topic, 
 and IS th. ' I bject of this paragraph. 
 
 Weoitri#lvw . . bad. -Find a 
 simii.-.r v-nt I. -:..». in the selection. 
 
 miglWe. \\orthy of choice, desir- 
 ^t>\ ■ Observ.- the noble sentiments of 
 the last .*-ntence of the paragraph, and 
 comp'"'' ''" — ■ •' ' "- .'^ ' 
 
 ipare th«;m with those of Sociat. 
 
 6c, Atropby. — Literally, want 
 
 of 
 
46o 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 n.-urishment r a wastin- away. Note 
 tne ollijisis in this sentencv 
 Amazement. -I'ciplexitv 
 Fear/ul defending, -iji.^tinguish be- 
 ,twa!n (litferein mcninnps of " fearful " 
 VMiat I.S tho statoment respecting the 
 adder intended to illustrate ? 
 
 Stoics. -(i reek philosophers, who 
 an-u, among other things, that men 
 .Mi-.uid view with equal indifference the 
 prosp.'ctof pleasure or of pain 
 
 \DOD.- Another time. Generally 
 
 us ;r!verl)ially ^ 
 
 i-iaying: at tibles -■■ Tables " is a 
 
 nam.' M.iiuiim..-, guen to the game of 
 
 draiights or backgannnon, from the 
 small tablets u.sed in playing. For what 
 purpose IS this illustration used? Note 
 the different purpose for which Hu.xlev 
 em])ioys the illustration of a Pame of 
 fhess, p. 412, 
 
 For no chance . . unreason- 
 
 aoie.— C ompare the sentiment of Soc- 
 rates, p. 388, "Xo evil can happen" 
 etc. ' ' 
 
 Parthian klngrs. -The Parthians 
 hved to the south-east of the Casi)ian 
 ;V'a, and maintained their independence 
 in sjiite of repeated attacks by the 
 Komans. .S(.e p. 143. 
 
 I 
 
 
 VII. TO LUCASTA. 
 
 TlK> lady whom Lovelace celebrated under the name of " latcasta " was I ucv 
 S.icheverell, his lady-love, whom heu:sual]v called I uv Cr-,, 7 , .'"''J 
 ;;- tin. side of the Royalists in the Civil ^^•ar, ami ^J^t.lZ^^^ 
 'h' was imprisoned bv the Pnritin<: tu. 1 ucvouon to tm. King 
 
 st.n.a of To Alt^ea Zn P^\ "" "''™'^' °" '"-^^'^ 55 i« the last* 
 
 N„nr,«^ V ' ''°''^™ '"""'^'" '"'^'^^ he was a prisoner. 
 
 con.ast with the tu^n.il of .■ wa^^inS S;:^'p;^j;!;^lXS!rtir in'S^ 
 
 New mistress.— War or the trior. '~n}\f''t '"^''"y ^''"''" ''>' "1*^ adl-ertnts 
 
 tc. be won on the battl; LlS ^ ^ fi ?"i ^^T'"''- ^^^"^^^^^ Wn-^df sacri- 
 
 Strong-er faith -This . ,.v, 1 ■ . , "''''' ''" '^^"""^' '^"^' '''^ '"-■■^It'i f'^r ' • the 
 
 i'Mhetuolasrimesoft epoe "'^ ohs "^r'" '"'^ ^'"^ "' P-erty and 
 
 int poem. obscurity at a cumparati\ely early age. 
 
 11'' 
 
 VIII. ANCUJNG. 
 
 X^'^^Z T"': °? 'T'""'" ''■'^"'^" ^'^"^^"^ (Huntsman) and Pisca- 
 " t o h 'r^'°^'^-^— -"vinced that angling is a more inno- 
 
 M 1 s o ' rn ", ' .'"^' '"'' '^" •'^'^-•"'-"•■- l'---tor in his angling excur- 
 
 Mon to learn from him the mysteries of ■■ the gentle craft " 
 
 and the'dhZ: " "'"""'' "'""^' '" ^^ "'-^'^ '-'"*^ '^^ ^'^ --^ !-« Saxon ; 
 qiuintn.s of expression which constitute its greatest charm. 
 
 and precepts s.ijgested bv natm , .^ '^"^'""^ °" Ayh^'^'ng "lorol reflections 
 ment itself! ^ '^'-'''' '""^ l'''-'"-'"ena, or by the amuse- 
 
 „« 
 
R. 
 
 amnion, from the 
 1 playing. For what 
 tration used ? Note 
 e for which Hiixloy 
 Uion of a game of 
 
 unreason- 
 
 3 sentiment of Soc-. 
 evil can hai:)])en," 
 
 — The Parthians 
 ast of the Casjjian 
 their independence 
 d attacks by tlie 
 3- 
 
 ANGTJNG. 
 
 ucasta " was Lucy 
 . Lovelace fought 
 otion to the King 
 page 55 is the last* 
 IS a prisoner. 
 
 re.— Perhaps tho 
 
 lines never had 
 ation than in the 
 
 1 by the adlierents 
 lacehim.self sacri- 
 is health for "the 
 
 in poverty and 
 .iti\ely early age. 
 
 man) and Pisca- 
 
 is a more inno- 
 
 is angling e.xcur- 
 
 ost ])art Saxon ; 
 L simplicity and 
 
 ction as well as 
 
 lonU reflections 
 
 by the aniuse- 
 
 62. HoneBt scholar. -What quality 
 
 Sycamore-tree. -The sycamore or 
 plane tree of Britain is a' speciJs o^ 
 naple, growmg from 70 to go feet in 
 'H-ight. with a spreading head whicli 
 forms an excellent shade? 
 
 Brave breakfast. -"Brave" was 
 orinerly m common use, like "quaint" 
 n the last century, and "nice "in our 
 lay, as a general term of conmienda- 
 lon. Another meaning, not common 
 <nv, IS sho\.y, gaudy, as in Herbert's 
 poe-m, p. 65. 
 
 Good . . hungry. -In what sense 
 
 6;:) No fortune. -Xo luck. "For- 
 tune formerly had the meaning of suc- 
 cess, whether good or bad 
 
 Tackling. -Generally used with re- 
 terence to the ropes, rigging, etc., of a 
 ■''lip. lislun,^.facklc usually includes 
 the rod as well as the hook, line, etc. 
 
 Nay then . , lost.-Xote the sim- 
 plicity and naturalness of this para- 
 Kiajih I he rapid change from one 
 thought to another is well expressed 
 
 * wo brace of trout. -hee //. 's 
 
 iiraii/niar, \. ^2. 
 
 A scholar. -('omimre the several 
 meanings of "s-Jiolar " 
 
 Procure . parish. -Give the 
 meaning m other words. 
 
 Lecturer. -.\ preacher hired to as- 
 
 Which . . it. -What ii the ante- 
 cedent o( "which"? Modern hterarv 
 usage a\oids the separation of " of'' 
 li()m Its dependent relative, thus sacri- 
 hcing freedom to grammatical precise - 
 ness. ' 
 
 Which . . mouth.— Explain. 
 Even. — Fxnctly. 
 
 64 I to .(I you . . b0th.-Sup- 
 I'ly the ellipsis, ' 
 
 But more.— A very loose sen- 
 
 tence. Point ouf .1-^ f'rfects in its 
 -stmeture, .and re-w n e it c. i-rectly 
 
 Still in motion. -Wii. I objection to 
 
 the use of " still " in this connecti.)n ? 
 
 Providence. — Used in us literal 
 meaning of /ores/ o///. I 
 
 Stomach.— Appetite— once a com- ' 
 mon meaning. I 
 
 Lessius. -Probably the Dutchman ' 
 i.conn.ii.i LessuLs, author of ZJf 7^<j. 
 /i/irt e^ Jure, '' 
 
 4C1 
 
 Buch.— Isthis sentence 
 
 liJope , 
 
 I cornet ? 
 
 : Ordering. —Managing. 
 
 .65- I lie breaks in the narrative on 
 tins p,age are aM^, to the fact that the 
 several paragraphs are n,n taken con- 
 secutively from the autiior's work. 
 \\ h.u he omitted portions treat of is in- 
 dicated bv the context 
 
 Smoking shower. -.\ sudden show- 
 er on a warm day cau.ses ihe appear- 
 ance described as " smoking."" The 
 old angler ,s a close ot)server of nature 
 as might be expected 
 
 Earth smells . . too. -The earth 
 smells as sweet as the meadow looks 
 Peasant. ntieise the use of " plea- 
 santly " and " sweetly " 
 Mr. Herbert^-" Holy George Iler- 
 , '-" ('.■>93— 1633) was a pious coun- 
 tiy cleryvnian of noble descent. He 
 was an intimate friend of Lord Bacon 
 
 ..?'V'"i'° >''""• '^^>'' ■'^" high a re-: 
 gaid for his learning and jutlirment 
 
 hat he submitted his works ti him be- 
 f<.re publication. The lines below, en - 
 \M\ »■ ne, are considered to be the 
 best he has written. His biogra|)hy 
 "■as ^^■r,tten by Walton, who «as bori, 
 m the .same year as Herbert, but sur- 
 yved him hfty years. Walton intro- 
 duced many beautiful hries into The 
 ( omplele Angler to enfoVce or illustrate 
 Ins lessons. 
 
 ,.J^^f®'^/ ,• nl&ht— Coleridge 
 
 calls the dewdrops "the tears of 
 , ;>'ou'-nful eve and another poet speaks 
 them as" Ihoseter.rsoftheskyfor 
 the loss of the .sun. This pretty con- 
 ceit of representing the dew as " Na- 
 ture s teardrops " is conmion with the 
 poi'ts. 
 
 Angry and brave. -Explain the epi- 
 
 the angrv. For " brave," see note 
 
 on brave breakfast ' above 
 
 Bids . . eye.-It is ane.xagger. 
 ated conceit to make the hue of the 
 rose daz/Je and weaken the sight of 
 
 :nni who gazes upon it. 
 
 I Abox . . lie, A beautiful com- 
 Iparisonofsprmg, Expand the stanza 
 j to bring out fully the meaning. 
 i Thy . . ye.— Can the u.^; of these 
 two words here be justified' 
 
 Closes. -The closing bars of a piece 
 ofnmsic. In "shows . . , W^ - 
 there may be an allusion to the mourn- 
 tul refrain that seems to accompany 
 
 
 '■M 
 
462 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 the sounds of nature-thc sighing of 
 the tn-L's. the moaning of the winds, 
 etc. May the meaning of " music " be 
 ■enlarged so as to inehide not only the 
 nu; ody, hut also the sweet odors, the 
 bnlhant hues, and all other beauties of 
 the spnng-tiine? 
 
 Only. . lives. -Observe how the three 
 irst stanzas lead up to and illustrate 
 tlielast stanza, which contains 'he sub- 
 ject of the poem, h'r.-hcrfspoem, The 
 Uoncst Man, m the Fuuktu Rkadkr 
 IS an expansion of the thought in this 
 last stanza, that virtue rdone stands the 
 test m the hour of trial. The simile 
 nuist not be pressed too closely, for 
 sca.unu-d timber would he the first to 
 turn to coal in a conHag.^ation. 
 
 66. It Is an even' lav.--Piscator 
 seems lo say, " I'll make an even bet 
 with you." 
 To use.— To interest. 
 
 Tltyrus-MeUbauB. -Poetical names 
 of shepherds used by Virgil in his first 
 bclogrc. 
 
 Innocent recreation. —Yet Walton's 
 mmute directions for making live-bait 
 and for placing it on the hook in such 
 a way that it may live a long time, 
 have exposed him to the charge of 
 cruelty. Myron thought that 
 " The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in 
 
 his gullet 
 Should have a hook, and a small trout 
 
 to puil it." 
 What Wordsworth and Cowpcr would 
 have thought of angling mav he rath- 
 eretl from the last stanza of hart-'i.eap 
 vVell, and from The Task, vi. tfio,'tseq. 
 Refer to passages in the selection 
 which would justify the alternative 
 title, A Contem/./ative Afaus Re- 
 creation, which Walton gave to his 
 book. 
 
 IX. ON THE MORNINCi OF CHRISTS NATIVITY. 
 
 This poem was written by Milton in 1629. while he was an undergraduate at 
 Camhndge and although the work of a n.ere youth, it has been dLrib^d ^ 
 Hallam as perhaps the finest ode in the English language. " The metre of the 
 antroductory stanzas is called " Rime Royal," .and is that in which Chaucer wrote 
 several of his 6V,....A,.:, Tales. Milton's rhymes are the same as those of 
 Chaucer, but he has a hexameter line in the seventh place. 
 
 67. Work us.— Bring about for us 
 
 Knsufferable.- The old usage pre- 
 ferred the English prefix. Cf. "uncap- 
 
 able, p. 40. See //. S. Grammar, 
 IV. 3.J. 
 
 The midst . . Unity.— The Son 
 is always named between the two other 
 persons of the Trinity. 
 
 Heavenly Muse. — xMilton inntates 
 Homer and Virgil in invoking the Muse 
 —"the Heavenly Mu.se," because his 
 IS a sacred theme. See also Paradise 
 Lost, I. 6. 
 
 By . . untrod. — An allusion to 
 the classical notion of Apollo or Phoe- 
 bus, the sun-god, driving the chariot of 
 the sun across the sky. 
 
 Hath . . print.— Has received 
 no impression. For " took," see //. S. 
 Grammar, VIII. 43. d. 
 
 68. Wizards. — The wise men from the 
 East. This word has not here the con- 
 
 temptuous meaning that it usually has. 
 
 .or tlie force of the termination ard, 
 
 see //. 6. Grammar, V. 22. 
 
 Prevent— Em ploved in Its old sense 
 01 anticipate, as frequently in the Piible 
 Secret altar. - An allusion to 
 
 Isaiah VI. 6, 7. 
 
 Had doff'd . . trim. -Explained 
 by the first line of the stanza It is 
 generally believed that Christ was not 
 horn in December, but at .some milder 
 sea.son when the shepherds tented with 
 their flocks. Milton has in mind an 
 English winter, not a winter in Pales- 
 tine. 
 
 To wanton . . paramour.— An 
 
 allusion to the winter davs, when tlie 
 beams of the sun ar^i weakened. 
 
 Pollute. — Polluted. See H. S 
 Grammar, \'in. 44 
 
 Maiden White -That is, "innocent 
 snow. ' 
 
'■• — Poetical names 
 
 jy Virgil in his first 
 
 Ion.— Yet Walton's 
 r making live-bait 
 1 the hook in such 
 live a long time, 
 to the charge of 
 ight that 
 cruel coxcomb, in 
 
 and a small trout 
 
 ind Co'vpcr would 
 ling may l)c iTath- 
 mza of Hart-Leap 
 ''ask,\\.^6o,'-tseq. 
 i in the selection 
 ' the alternative 
 iive Man's Re- 
 Iton gave to his 
 
 STATIVITY. 
 
 undergraduate at 
 )eun described by 
 The metre of the 
 L-h Chaucer wrote 
 same as 'hose of 
 
 lat it usually has. 
 termination ard, 
 
 V. 22. 
 
 %\ in Its old sense 
 ?ntly ill the Bible, 
 n allusion to 
 
 Im.— Explained 
 e stanza. It is 
 c:hrist was not 
 at some milder 
 lerds tented witli 
 lias in mind an 
 winter in Pales- 
 
 >aramour.— An 
 
 Jays, when tlie 
 wakened. 
 
 See H. S. 
 
 It is, " innocent 
 
 ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST S NA TIVITY. 463 
 
 JT^^ defonnitIes.-How else ex- 
 pressed in this stan/a? 
 
 ^ J"- ^"'^»">"i>; Viil. 7. c. 
 
 before and proviilos slielter f.jr an 
 army ; hence, a forerunner 
 
 Turtle.-Here, a riove. The dove is 
 an emblem of innocence and iieacc 
 l;or Its connection with the olive, see 
 (genesis Viii. 2. 
 
 Myrtle.— The myrtle in ancienttinics 
 was used at weddin.s^s, and was a svin- 
 bolof joyand hai^piness, as the cvpivss 
 wrs of sorrow. Hoih tlic invrtle and 
 the dove were sacred to Venus', the god- 
 dess of love. '^ 
 
 No war. -At the time of the birth of 
 ( hnst the tem,)le of Janus at Rome 
 \\as closed, as a sign that there uas 
 peace throughout the Roman Empire 
 Hooked chariot. -A chariot armed 
 with scythes fastened to the wheels— a 
 Celtic invention. 
 Awful.— Full of awe, fearful. 
 Sovran.— The modern spelling of 
 this word has been brought about bv 
 lal.se analogy, as if it were connected 
 with reign." It is derived from the 
 l>atin superanus, and comes to us 
 tiiioiigh the l'"rench souverain. 
 
 Whist.— Hushed— an onomatopoetic 
 word. ' 
 
 Ocean.— Here, a word of three svl- 
 lables. 
 
 Birds of calm.— The Iialcvon of an- 
 cient fable was believed to i)|-ood in a 
 nest floating on the sea, and to have 
 the power of charming the sea into a 
 perfect calmness (hiring the time of 
 bmoding -seven days before an rl ,s*'ven 
 after the winter solstice. These were 
 calledthe "halcyon days." " Halcyon •■ 
 IS probably a poetical name of the kinc-- 
 fisher. '' 
 
 Influence.— This word is used here 
 m Its astrological sense, referring to 
 the mysterious power whicb the heaven- 
 ly bodies were supposed to exercise 
 upon the lives and fortunes of men 
 Why "precious"? For other survivals 
 of the old science of astrology see 
 '^xvnc\\'iStud\< of Words, Chai> 'iV 
 
 70. For all . light. -We have 
 
 the same meaning of "for" in the 
 school-boy's de!i:iiice, " V\\ ;\o jj fj,j. 
 all you." See H. S. Grammar, X, 
 
 Lucifer.- The morning star. Liter- 
 ally, the "light-bringer." 
 . Beapake.— The prefix ' ■ be " adds an 
 intensive force to the verb, (iive ex- 
 ;'",''."•„ "'" ""!<■'■ U'^i's of this prefix. 
 
 liid IS a contiaeted weak preterite. 
 >ee //. 6. Grammar, X'lli. 60 
 
 Room.- Place. "Her" may ref. r 
 ;;ither to " shady gloom " („ijrhtj, or to 
 
 day. ° ' 
 
 ,, ^^.•,""-')f ^^—^ common meaning of 
 
 lis with the older writers. 
 
 Biirningaxletree -Cf. Daniel vm 
 9- Inohl I.ngiish "tree"ha<l the ad- 
 ditional meaning of 7,v',-,/, hram. 
 
 Lawn. — Properly, an open space be- 
 tween Woods. 
 
 Or ere. -Probably a reduplicat.-d 
 construetion, "ere" being added when 
 or began to lose the meaning of 
 I'cfore which it had in l^arly English. 
 >>ee Abbot's Shakespearian Grammar 
 131. tor another view, see Hale's 
 Lomrer Em^lish Poems, p. 219. 
 
 Pan.— The (ireek god of shepherds 
 the name is here applied to Christ, 
 the good sheiiherd." 
 Was all.— Justify the use of the sin- 
 gular verb. 
 
 Silly.— 1 his word has successively 
 meant (i) happy, as h-iv, (2) innocent, 
 (3) harmless, (4) foolish. Account for 
 these changes of meaning. 
 
 Strook.— Old preterite form— here 
 { used for the past iianiciple. 
 ! Liviuely warbled . . took.— .\n 
 abv.luie or an ajjpositive expn'ssion 
 developing the thought in the f^rst three 
 lines "As" is a relative, as it is in 
 the third line. Note instances of iiii- 
 peifeet rhymes in this stanza. 
 
 01 jse.— The cadence at the end of a 
 piece of music. See note on ' ' closes " 
 p. 461. 
 
 71. Cynthia's seat.— "Cynthia" was 
 a poetical name for the moon. Diana 
 the moon-goddess, was supposed to 
 have been born at Mount Cynthus in 
 the_ island of Delos ; hence, called 
 " Cynthia." Explain "hollow round '" 
 Won.— Persuaded. 
 Its last fulfilling.— Its completion. 
 Phis IS one of the three instances of the 
 u.se of "its" in Milton's poetry. It 
 had not in his time gained recognition 
 as a reinitableword, and his reluctance 
 to use it is shown in the fourteenth 
 stanza, p. 72, where he uses "itself" 
 
irii 
 
 464 
 
 THE HJC.li SL Hi )( )/. RI.A DER 
 
 f\ 
 
 \ r 
 
 V- ti 
 
 r It 
 
 § 
 
 and " her" rcforririR to the same ante- 
 cedent. See ivniarks on "its" in //. 
 S, Clramniiir, \'\. 22. 
 
 Alone.-Hiis "alone" here tlie force 
 of "and only such " or "by itself"? 
 
 Happierunion.— Complete the com- 
 
 paris(jn. 
 
 Globe. -Mass, as often in Latin; 
 otherwise then' is tautology in the line 
 
 Shamed-laced.—See //. .V. Gram- 
 
 viar, W. 46. a. 
 
 Cherubim - seraphim. — If Mil 
 
 ton iiitencU'd to mark a distinction 
 between these orders of angels, it would 
 a[>|)ear from th(! epithets employed that 
 he regarded the former as purely defcn- 
 .^ye spirits, and the latter as n'lorc ag- 
 gressiye. 
 
 Unexpreasive, Inexpressible. 
 Sons of morning. — See Tob 
 
 XXXVIII. 7. 
 
 Weltering. _Rolling(.\. .S., ivcallan, 
 to roll) ; akin to ivaltz. 
 
 Ring out . . spheres.— It is a 
 beautiful poetic fancy that the moye- 
 mentsof the heayenly bodies produce 
 a music whieii is imperceptible to mor- 
 tal ears. The poets make frequent re- 
 ference to this " music of the sjiheres," 
 the finest, perhaps, being that of .Shake- 
 speare in the Merchant of Venice, v. i. 
 72. Ninefold harmony. — J he an- 
 cients represented the reyolutions of! 
 the universe as being made on the dis- I 
 taff of Necessity, in eight concentric ' 
 circles, or wheels. Milton adds a 
 ninth, " the wheel of day and night." \ 
 Par. Lout, vii. 135. 
 
 Consort. — Symphony, agreeablchar- ' 
 mony of sounds. The' px-t asks that ! 
 the music of the spheres and the an- i 
 gelic songs blend together in a com- 
 plete and harmonious chorus of praise I 
 to God. I 
 
 Time . . Gold. —It was the be- 1 
 hef of the ancients that the human race 
 \vas degenerating, and so they repre- 
 sented the earth as having' passed 
 through several successive periods or 
 ages, the golden, the silver, the brazen, 
 and the iron, in a descending scale of 
 morality and happiness- -" from good 
 to ill, iroin ill to worse." They regarded 
 themselves as Hying in the iron age, the j 
 period when all the virtues had disap- 
 peared from the earth. Milton, and 
 indeed all our poets, frequently employ { 
 this myth for illustrative cflc'cl. oee, : 
 
 for instance, (uwper's Task, iv, 513, ef 
 
 SCi/ 
 
 Speckled vanity. — ' ' Speckled "may 
 be used in the sense oi i^niu/y, s/wiov, 
 but it suits the context better to make 
 It mean /nii/fcJ, p.'ai^/ie-spoUci/, 
 
 And Hell . . day.—" Hell" in 
 
 : this stanza, and " Heaven ' in the next, 
 
 are both regarded as feminine ; no 
 
 I doubt because they were feminine 
 
 I nouns in .\nglo-Sa\on. 
 
 Like glories. - Similar glories. The 
 , 'oiy iiere alluded to is the luminous 
 halo which is represented in painting.s 
 J as surrounding the heads of holy per- 
 : sons. The halo in this instance is 
 j formed of die rainbow, which is regard- 
 ed in Scripture as the sign of God's 
 covenant of mercy with men. 
 
 Celestial sheen. -Heavenly bright- 
 ness. 
 
 With radiant . . steering.— Note 
 
 the greater simplicity of .Shakespeare's 
 line, " It (Iropi)eth as the gentle rain 
 from heaven. " Show that greater glory 
 is here ascribed to Mercy than to Truth 
 ' and Justice, and give reasons for this. 
 
 This must . . so.- Ihe return of 
 
 the golden age of peace and innocence, 
 
 pictured in the hve preceding stanzas, 
 
 IS not yet at hand ; for by the decreeof 
 
 Divine rrovidence ("Wi.sest Fate") 
 
 must first come the death of Christ, the 
 
 j resurrection, and me judgmei t. The 
 
 I heathen myth of the golden age is ele- 
 
 ! vated into 'the Christian conception of 
 
 j thcMilienium 
 
 Ychain'd. -See //. S. Grammar 
 
 Wakeful trump. — Note the ol'jec- 
 \tive force of "wakeful." See //. S. 
 j Grammar, VIII. 63. b. 
 j 73. Aghast.— The k in this word is 
 j intrusiye. 
 
 I Session.— From same root as " r.s- 
 ; size, 'for which it is used here. 
 
 The . . throne.— See i Thessa- 
 loiii.in^ IV. 16, 17. 
 
 Old Dragon.— See Revelations xii. 
 4- 
 
 Swringes. —Lashes about. 
 
 ApoUo . . cell.— The most fa- 
 1T10US oracle of antiquity was that of 
 Apollo, at Delphi, or Delphos, a small 
 town of ancient Greece, situated on the 
 southern slope of Mount Parnassus 
 (" the steep of Delphos "). about eisrht 
 miles north of the Corurthian Gulf. ' In 
 
 -S 
 
Tasl; IV, 513, <•/ 
 
 "S[)ccklocl"may 
 )f i;uui/y, s/iincw 
 : bitior to inaki; 
 ■■-spotlid. 
 Ly.-"Hell" in 
 von " in tlienext, 
 5 foiuininc ; no 
 W(;rc feminine 
 
 kir glories. Tlie 
 is the luminous 
 twi in paintings 
 ids of holy |iur- 
 ihis instance is 
 \\ hicli is regard- 
 sign of God's 
 men. 
 eavenly bright- 
 
 teerlng.— Note 
 
 f .Sliakespeare's 
 the gentle rain 
 at greater glory 
 ;y than to Truth 
 asons for this. 
 - The return of 
 and innocence, 
 ceding stanzas, 
 )y the decree of 
 ^Visest Fate") 
 h of Christ, the 
 (Igmei t. The 
 Iden age is ele- 
 conception of 
 
 .S. Grammar, 
 
 'ote the objec- 
 " See //. S. 
 
 n this word is 
 
 root as ' ' f..s- 
 hi re. 
 See t Thessa- 
 
 !velations xii. 
 
 lUt. 
 
 ["he most fa- 
 / was that of 
 phos, a small 
 tuatec! on the 
 nt Parnassus 
 ), about eight 
 uan Gulf. In 
 
 ON THE MORNING OF CHRISTS NA TlVm : 
 
 
 a small opening in the ground from 
 which arose an intoxicating vapor O, 
 tnpod placed over the hok- sat the ■'mle! 
 yed pru-sh-ss, who in a sort of de- 
 mum or "nightly trance "produced by 
 
 hum ••fl?''K"u '■'■"■'• '""'"'■'^ ("hideous 
 hum ) which theattendant priests inter 
 Pretedas thea.iswers of the god to the 
 •ostions asked. These ans.vers we e 
 
 •nvordsdeceiving,"orcapableofmore 
 than one interpretation. ' ' Nightl y " s 
 J'ciuivalent to n,^^ht.Uke. In "breathed" 
 
 e'"'' 'sn,.'}!'" "''""'" '^•^ wayin which 
 , .^PHl' °'' "I'^P'i-ation was nro- 
 
 i'hrine, was the most sacred part of 
 a emp e. where the statue of the god 
 ^ placed. Apollo is represenVe 
 as eaving his tem,,le with a despairing 
 •shriek on the a.lvent of our .slaviour 
 it was a general, but not a well-founded" 
 belie that oracles became "dumb'' 
 
 binh'oVSt.'"''"""'''^''"^''^^^^^* 
 .74 The parting genius. -•• p.^n- 
 
 Tn ,h A" '?'"/• '-'' "^'^■" '■" poetry. 
 
 1 o the nnnd of the ancients, especialf; 
 of the poetic Greeks. Nature w.'s not a 
 
 S life' ?-r '^•"?' ^"' ''''' '"•^''"'-■t 
 with lif,;; the springs, the trees the 
 
 mountains, and ither natura o^jec s 
 
 were supposed to be guarded bv 
 
 nyiiphs, dryads, and various orciers of 
 
 • pints or .^..,». Why are these rc^re- 
 
 •sented as wecph/jr and si^f/u» ,r f ^ 
 
 lars and Lemures. -The Lars or 
 
 Lares vvere the household gods or kind 
 yguardians of the family? They "[. 
 the deified spirits of ancestors that had 
 received proper honors; whereas le 
 Lemures were the neglected spirits of 
 the departed who were inclined there 
 
 the S~ 'contained the ashes of 
 
 Flamena. -A class of Roman priests • 
 
 Phu7^-~^'^'-^' """'^"S^- ^^^ ii'-^rle's 
 / Inlologv, sec. 423 c 
 
 And the Chill . . seat. -The 
 
 poet represents the marble statues of 
 he gods as affected by the .'encrVl 
 error each particulargod forsal^i g his 
 
 accus omedp ace. See the story of Da! 
 
 gon, 1 Samuel, v. j ^ 
 
 Baalim. A generic name of the 
 Phoenician deities, of which Pcor or 
 
 465 
 
 tKl ^. f"""' ""'^- ^Vslunroth was 
 the phi al form ol Ashtoreth, the cor. 
 responding female duinity. It is cSm 
 
 Trd '^I'^'^jr ■•'•''•-*' ^'''''°'-^'''^"-°'- 
 garcled as the . noon-god, and U.aal -k; 
 
 the sun-god. The ^ithet " o S of 
 
 Heaven in Jer..miah V),. 18, 'i. Mm! 
 
 P"se<l toreferto Ashtoreth.Thc "tw ce 
 
 battered god" is I )agon ^'-" 
 
 Hammon.-Aminoi., a I.vbian and 
 
 wS'rWst'^'"'"'^^^"'^^-"-- 
 >vun i.xm s horns 
 
 '•448-452, as a .Syrian god He was 
 killed by a wild boar, but was revived 
 for.s..x months of everv year. -S. 
 
 I^I-lton speaks of ^'m as " ye r v 
 wounded. ' y'-Mxy 
 
 Sullen M0l0Ch.-The chief god of 
 th.H'l,u.nicians, frec,uentlv mention^" 
 
 Scrip ureaMhe god of ihe Annuo . 
 Us. I le was represented by .a hoi bw 
 
 rcSve tS' '''''' "'"'"-^ e.xiende.i t^ 
 receive he human victims, ehietiy chil 
 < ren, who were offered in sacrifice, tee 
 Jeremiah xxx.,. 35. The idol w.S 
 e.ued from within, and while the vic- 
 s were being burned to death, thdr 
 
 Clashing cymbals made by the priests 
 
 as hey danced around theklol ^ 
 
 ..Lx,,b,n the epithets "sullen," 
 
 grisly, dismal," " blue " 
 
 Bruti8h.-Hecause most of the gods 
 
 of Lgypt were represenie.l either who Iv 
 
 or partly as lower animals. Thu S 
 
 s frequently represented with a^oVs 
 
 nK3re^J:r^^'^^--^^-r: 
 
 was worshipped under the iornx of a 
 sacred bull ke,)t at Memphis. ^ 
 
 the^tVseiufT''''--;-^" '-^""^'on to 
 mc absence of rain in Lgynt 
 
 L^acred chest. -Same as^ '■ worship 
 Pd ark," the chest in which th,> T, ' 
 -d, ho sacred u,„,.i„;'?l'^-»;^ 
 
 3able-stoled.~The <;tnio ,. 
 
 I (],-,,.:- , • ■* "e stole W.Tt; tllP 
 
 I .iuwing robe wurn by the nn(v,tc >. V 
 i vv.th «o„gs ntid the tnus c of The !l° 
 
466 
 
 THE HIGH SCiroOL KEADER. 
 
 h\\\ " in vain," for the god whom they 
 wnr hipped had lit-d awiiy to Hell. 
 Kxplaiii ".<Avin;rs," "\\\\\\\m\s dark." 
 lyn. — An old plural of "eye." Why 
 iluskv f 
 
 Typhon. -This fire-hronthing mon- 
 ster IS mentioned last, because he was 
 the most formidable ot all. He was 
 the personification ofeJI, and no doubt 
 the ancient stories and representations 
 of the monster aided materially in form- 
 ing the popular conception of .Satan 
 which ])revailed in mediieval times. 
 
 Our Babe . . crew. -A Christian 
 versionoftheluMihen iiivth which repre- 
 .scnted the infant I lercules as straiiiding 
 two ser[)ents sent to destroy him. I 
 
 When . . wave.— When the sun I 
 
 has risen. 
 
 So . , grave.— The poet makes 
 the " damned crew" of heathen gods 
 flee at Christ's advent, just as the 
 .shades of night are scattered by the 
 risMig sun. All the supernatural beings 
 whom the night bring.-, forth from their 
 
 I retren. '.—ghosts, fairic;, pixies, brown- 
 les, and the like— must flee away nt 
 cock-crowing, or at the approach of 
 
 . dawn. Cf. Midsummir Xiirht's Dream 
 
 I HI. 2, and Haviltl, i, i. 
 
 Moon loVd maze — Thefays, fairies. 
 
 or elves .lie .supposed to !« fond of 
 I dancnig by the light of the moon. By 
 I the " night-steeds " the poet probably 
 , n)eans the horses that were sui)i)osc(l 
 j to draw the chariot of night. In the 
 
 scene referred to above. I'uck calls them 
 
 " night's swift dragons." 
 
 7(x Youngest-teemed star— The 
 
 Inlest-born .star, that is, the star which 
 
 appr.ired to the wise men. 
 
 Hath flxt . . car. -Hath taken 
 
 up her station over n<-thlehem, to watch 
 
 her sleeping Lord. 
 Courtly stables. -Why courtly ^ 
 Bright-hamess'd. — I n l)righ t armor. 
 
 •or this meaning of "harness," see i 
 
 Kings XXII. 34. 
 
 Describe the picture with which the 
 poem closes. 
 
 X. CH./VRACTER OF LORD FALKLAND. 
 
 Falkland and Clarendon were both young men when the trouble l^gan be- 
 tween Charles I. and his Parliament, and they were both zealous supporters of 
 the poi)ular party, Falkland being a close friend of Han^den. Hut becoming 
 afraid of Puritan domination, they went over to the side of the king, and were 
 appointed to office by him. Henceforth they found themselves committed to a 
 cause oi which F.alklnnd at least could not u holly approve, but which his high 
 : ense of loyalty would not allow him to abandon. Falkland's portrait is paint- 
 ed by a loving hand, as he and Clarendon were intimate friends. 
 
 76. This parliament 
 
 The Long 
 Parliament. 
 
 Not well . . contented.— .\n in- 
 stance of Litotes. 
 
 Unentangled. — What is implied 
 here ? 
 
 77. Conversation.— Intercourse— an 
 
 old meaning. | 
 
 Pure election. ~Di:,tingui h from 
 the present ordinary use of the expres- 
 sion. 
 
 Though he . . him— What bet- 
 ter position for this clau'^e ? Justify the 
 addition of the last clause, '' and such 
 . . bosom," and express the meaujjic 
 of the clause ia diiierent language, 
 
 Administrations. — Distributions. 
 Note the use of " as " in this sentence, 
 where we would now use " that," and 
 of " that "in the last sentence of the 
 paragraph, where we would now use 
 " such." 
 
 Polite . . men.— Men highly ac- 
 complished and of exact .scholarship. 
 
 Ratiocination.— Process of reason- 
 ing. 
 
 Wit -fancy.— These words are used 
 in their old ^iix\^ft%~i<nderstandini' and 
 i»iai,rh,afion. Note the omission of 
 'to after " resorted." Note carefully 
 the meanings of "in a less volume " 
 ••refine," <• consent." •'vulvar." r^. 
 
, pixies, brown, 
 t flee away nt 
 le approaih of 
 Xighi's Dream 
 
 he fays, fairies, 
 to \)c fond of 
 he moon. Ry 
 poet probably 
 were supp(jse(l 
 night. In the 
 'lick calls theni 
 
 1 Btar.— The 
 
 the star which 
 
 n. 
 
 — Hath taken 
 
 "hem, towalcli 
 
 ly courtly f 
 1 bright armor, 
 irness," see i 
 
 ith which the 
 
 ble Ijegan be- 
 siipporters of 
 l^iit becoming 
 ing, and were 
 )mrnitted to a 
 Inch his high 
 trait is paint- 
 Distributions, 
 this sentence, 
 "that," and 
 itcnce of the 
 uld now use 
 
 en highly ac- 
 holarship. 
 ss of reason- 
 
 3rds are used 
 tanding and 
 omission of 
 fote carefully 
 ss volume," 
 ilgan'' Re- 
 
 ^-^^'^'<EATOH;um:,:;,f,,,,0\'. 
 
 in de- 
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 tence? "^ """« "' "» second si-n- 
 
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 these words ^rT^ T^'' "'*'^' '^'''■e. 
 
 mean , , . ■' ' 'I' •';,^^ "^^arly synonymous 
 
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4(58 
 
 The iiiuH SCHOOL reader. 
 
 Milton prefixod to Paradise Lost. The " three poets" are generally supposed to 
 be Homer, Virgil, and Milton ; but some substitute Dante for Virgil, 
 
 Th« lines on Reason form the opening of Reliirio Laid (a layman's creed\ a 
 pcem written to defend the Church of England against Dissenters. These 
 lines show the superiority of Religion to Rea.son as a guide of the soul. 
 
 XIV. ON 'I'HE LOVE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 83. When men . . misfortune.— 
 
 This long i)aragraph affords a good ex- 
 ample of a well-constructed, well-bal- 
 anced paragraph. Note the f(jllowing 
 in connection tlierewith :— The Topic 
 Centence.— 'I'lie first sentence contains 
 the subject of the paragraph, namely, 
 the decline of public spirit. Unity.— 
 Each sentence relates to the subject of 
 the paragraph, which it helps to de- 
 velop in one of several ways — by con- 
 trast, by amplification, by illustration, 
 and so on. ContinuiCy. — The sen- 
 tences follow one another in natural 
 order, continuing the thread of thought 
 without bre.ik or interruption. Ex- 
 plicit Reference. — The transitions 
 from sentence to sentence are easy 
 and natural, and e.ach sc ijnce shows 
 by means of demonstratives, con- 
 nectives, tlie repetition of phrases, or 
 rather, the use of synonymous ones, 
 and in other ways, a clear and unmis- 
 takable reference to the sentence that 
 precedes. Tims, in the second sen- 
 tence, '' this great incentive" refers to 
 "public sjjirit" in the first, "hence" in 
 the third refers to "incentive" in the 
 second, " in this behalf" in the fourth 
 to " warmth . . welfare " in the third, 
 and so on. Variety. — The sentences 
 are different in construction. There 
 is a fair distribution of long and shi>rt 
 sentences on theonehand, andoflo )sc 
 and i)eriodic sentences on the other, 
 with a preponderance of those of peri- 
 odic structure. Note, too, the rhe- 
 torical effect of the interrogative sen- 
 tences. 
 
 i The paragraph may also be examin- 
 ed as to the observance of the laws of 
 Proportion and Parallel Construction. 
 
 Universal degeneracy. — By what 
 arguments does the author prove the 
 existence of this degeneracy ? Are 
 
 they valid at the present day? Write 
 an essay on the ennobling effects of a 
 patriotic spirit. 
 
 Public spirit. —Deduce from the se- 
 lection the author's meaning of tliise.v- 
 pression. 
 
 84. Gallantry.— Used in the broad 
 sense of iite heroic virtues. 
 
 From hence. — Hence means from 
 this\ therefore "from" is redundant. 
 The full form, however, is likely to pre- 
 vail. 
 
 Had no pretence.— Could not lay 
 claim. 
 
 Depravity. — What depravity is 
 meant ? 
 
 Towards it. — " It ' refers to "pub 
 lie," that is, public interests. 
 
 There cannot . . others.- He is 
 ridiculous in the eyes of the public. 
 riiis thought is amplified in the next 
 sentence. 
 
 Knight - errant. Originally, a 
 knight who went abroad in seaich of ad- 
 ventures. Knight-errantry was brought 
 into contempt and made ridiculous by 
 C^ervantes' famous satire, Don Quixote. 
 
 Epidemic vice. — Expand to bring 
 out the meaning fully 
 
 Excise.— Distinguish from customs 
 and /(7.V('.f. 
 
 Must3V-rons. — Registers containing 
 the names of the soldiers in each com- 
 pany. How can «he soldier be guilty 
 of fraud in this respect ? By having 
 some one atiswer to his name ? 
 
 Fantastical height. - Express "fan- 
 tastical " by a phrase. Give modern 
 instances of the evil referred to. 
 
 A man Of public . . country.— 
 Note the irony. 
 
 85. Usurer. -t/jwry formerly had 
 the same meaning thai interest now 
 has. Account for the change in mean- 
 ing. 
 
ON THE LOVE 01^ COUNTRY. 
 
 469- 
 
 Codms — fadms, tfie last kirg of 
 Athens, was said to have sacrificed his 
 hfe about io63 B.C., in order to save 
 his country. The Athenians thought 
 no one was worthy to succeed him as 
 king, and so they abohshed th.^ title. 
 The sentence reads as if C'odrus were 
 a Roman. Supply all words necessary 
 to give the right meaning, and to com- 
 p'ete the comparison. 
 
 ScoBvola.— Caias Mucius was one of 
 a band of young Romans engaged in a 
 conspiracy to murder La.s I'orsena, 
 king of Clusium, who was at war with 
 Rome B.C. 508 (See Selection LI.), 
 bailing in his attempt on Porsena's life, 
 he was arrested, and to show how little 
 he and his-fellow-consprators feared 
 torture or doath, he thrust his right 
 hand into a flame and held it there 
 without flinching. He afterwards re- 
 ceived the surname of SciKvola, the /cf/- 
 handed. For what purpose are the e 
 names of heroes introduced? Discuss 
 the truth of the statement made in the 
 next sentence, " Were it not . . us." 
 To receive anything . . service. 
 —To listen to slander against public- 
 spirited men. 
 
 BoUlng heat -ambition of man- 
 hood—selfish intrigues. -Substitute 
 e.xact equivalents for these phrases. 
 What advantage is gained by making 
 these sentences interrogative ? Is 
 "sunk" appropriately used with "heat"? 
 Generous nations. -" Generous " 
 in the Latin f^enerosus) meant prim- 
 arily of noble birth, afterwards nob e- 
 minded, in which sense it is used here. 
 Develop other meanings of the word. 
 
 In this paragraph the author expands I 
 his illustration taken from the history 
 of Greece and Rome. Examine this 
 paragraph for the properties mentioned 
 at the beginning, and compare the 
 structure of the different paragraphs of 
 the selection. 
 
 86. Demosthenes. -Thegre.it Athe- 
 nian orator, whose devotod patriotism 
 is contrasted in this paragraph with 1 
 
 the time-serving of .Eschinos, his rival. 
 
 Puts his all . . is.ue - I'.ira 
 
 phrase to bring out the meaning of 
 " all " and " issue." 
 
 Benevolent. —Generous, loiu'ent. 
 
 Start of passion- 8ullenue£ 3 of 
 
 humor.— How could tiiese dispuiition., 
 be exhibited by a nation ? 
 
 Common sense.— This expre-sion 
 has been defined as good sense applied 
 to common objects. 
 
 Tenor. —C:ompare the meanirg in 
 "they kept the noiseless tenor of their 
 way." 
 
 Covert . . arts. — Note care- 
 fully the metaphor here eniplnved. 
 
 It were . . advancement. T e 
 most noticeable feature of this para- 
 graph is the loose manner in which the 
 Ijronouns are used. 
 
 Men of business. As .he French 
 say, nun of a/fa i is, that is, men engag- 
 ed in public business. 
 
 Who have . . riches.— Note the 
 
 "split construction" in this clause. See 
 //. i'. (hammar, XV 11. /2. 
 
 87. This . . rule.— St.-vte the rw/f-. 
 Observe the striking antithesis that 
 follows, and express it in the form of a 
 balanced sentence 
 
 Shreds of maxims.— Explain. Dis- 
 tinguish in meaning maxim, admre, 
 pnn'erb, axiom. 
 
 Lucubration.- Litcrallv, t'.at which 
 is coni|)osed by niglit. 'ihe term is 
 generally applied to a composition ofa 
 tedious, uninteresting character. 
 
 As a man . . air. -Wiuu changes 
 m the sentence are necessaiy to .nake 
 the use of " as " correct ? 
 
 The last paragraph, like the second, 
 IS illustrative ; the patriotic spirit, or 
 love of country, is exemplified by refer- 
 ence to the public services of Denio.,- 
 inenes, and by the story of Kegulus. 
 
 Write an essay, taking as^'sulject 
 Bishop Berkeley's' sentence, and .show 
 if the sentiment contained therein ac- 
 cords with the views expressed in Steele's 
 Essay. 
 
 J 
 
470 
 
 THK HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XV. THE GOLDEN SCALES. 
 
 In this selection, which is from No. 463 of the Spectator, the essayist intends 
 to tench us " not to dfspi.so or value any things for their appearances, but . , 
 according to their real and intrinsic value." This lesson is inculcated by means 
 of an allegory. The writer represents himself as seeing in a trance a pair of 
 golden scales possessed of the power to indicate the true value of " everytiiing 
 that is in esteem among men." This "odd kind of vision " is produced in the 
 mind of the essayist by his consideration of those pass.igcs in sacred and pro- 
 fane writings in which scales are said to be employed for the purpose of deter- 
 mining important issues. 
 
 Observe with what e:ise and naturalness the writer introduces his .ubject, and 
 then passing from one tli.iught to another, leads up to the real subject of the 
 Essay in the closing sentence. Observe, too, .Addison's fondness for the loose 
 sentence, a structure well-suited to the simplicity and grace of his essays in the 
 Spectator, and to the every day subjects of which these essays treat. 
 
 88. Homer's balance . . jEneas.— 
 
 See Homers Iliad, WW. 208—213; 
 and Virgil's .Kucid, xii. 725-727. In 
 lioth Homer and Virgil it is the doom 
 o' fate of the combatants tliat is weigh- 
 ed ; the scale containing the fate of the 
 one about to be vanc|uished descends 
 " loaded with death, " as indicating the 
 descent of the sjjirit to Hades. In the 
 passage below from Milton's Paradise 
 Lost (IV. 996-1015), the scales contain 
 the result to Satan " of parting and of 
 fight," and the lighter scale shows 
 "how light, how weak" Satan would 
 Ije in a conflict with Gabriel. " Fart- 
 ing," that is, depart in:^, is therefore the 
 ■weightier or more prudent course for 
 him. 
 
 Observe that the comparison is be- 
 tween dissimilar things, "balance" and 
 " passage,'' and note a similar peculi- 
 arity in the way in which "eastern 
 parts " and ' passages " are used in the 
 ne.xt sentence. It may, however, be 
 worthy of remark that the passage itself 
 from the Iliad has been called " Ho- 
 mer's balance." Note also the author's 
 use of "as" in these sentences, and 
 throughout the Ussay. 
 
 Way of thinking.— What is meant? 
 Give synonymous phrases. 
 
 Passages of Scripture.— See Dan- 
 iel V. 
 
 Other places . . writings.— As 
 
 Psalms 
 
 Getting 
 Milton 
 
 in Job XXVIll., Proverbs xvi 
 I.XII, etc. 
 Addressing themselves. - 
 
 ready — an o'd meaning. 
 
 Betwixt Astrea . . sign. 
 
 identifies the scales of the Almighty 
 with Libra (the balance), the constella- 
 tion which forn-.s the seventh sign of the 
 Zodiac, the sixth sign being Astnt-a, or 
 Virgc (the Maiden), and the eighth, 
 Scorpio (the Scorpion). 
 
 First.— This word is grammatically 
 connected with "weighed," not with 
 " created." The meaning mav be seen 
 more clearly in the light of what fol- 
 lows. He weighed yiVjY "all things 
 created," the "pendulous round carih 
 counterpoise," being one of 
 them ; no^o " ail events" — all that has 
 taken place subsequent to creation — 
 are weighed, " battles " and " realms " 
 being of this latter class. 
 
 Pendulous.— Hanging. See Milton's 
 beautiful picture of the "pendulous" 
 earth in Par. Lost, 11. 1051-3. 
 
 In counterpoise.— This may mean 
 that the earth, with the circumambient 
 air, holds its i)oise in the heavens as if 
 balanced by some other body ; or, that 
 the air is a counterpoise to the earth, 
 just as the light gas in a" balloon serves 
 as a balance to the weight of the bal- 
 loon and its occupants ; or simply that 
 the jaaiij of air which envelopes tho 
 
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THE GOLDEN SCALES. 
 
 471 
 
 about" '''"''' '" *''"'r"''*'' o"" balanced 
 
 Ponders -Weighs. This word is 
 ieidom used except in its metaphorical 
 sense. 
 
 89. The sequel . , flight.— Note 
 
 the peculipr use of ' ' each ; " one wci-ht 
 representb .iie result ( "sefiuel") of part- 
 ing, the other of fighting. 
 
 Kicked the beam. -Swings against 
 the beam of the scales — an expres- 
 sive phrase, reiterating the thought in 
 . quick up flew," both together show- 
 ing the e.vceedmg lightness of the weight 
 in the scale. '^ 
 
 Beapake the fiend.— Note the force 
 of the prefi.\ de. Give other forces of 
 the same prefix. 
 
 Neither , . given. -Explain. 
 How connected with what follows ' 
 
 Nor mine . . mire. -Evidently 
 
 thme and "mine" refer to "strength '' 
 Should "it is" or "it vvere" be sup- 
 plied before "doubled"? Supply the 
 ellipsis with "nor mine." 
 
 Where thou . . resist. -To make 
 this agree with the eighth line of the 
 extract it must mean, ' ' where thy power 
 of resistance is weighed," etc., and for 
 a similar reason, "his mounted scale 
 aloft must mean, ' ' which of the scales 
 had mounted aloft. " Otherwise, these 
 lines would mean that the lot of Gabriel 
 was put in one balance and that of 
 Satan in the other. 
 
 But fled . . nigrht.— Why make 
 ^atan and night flee together? Coin- 
 p:ire the twenty-sixth stanza of 'J7ie 
 Hymn, p. 75, and see the notes there 
 on. 
 
 Amusing thoughts.— The primary 
 sense of "amuse" was to occupy or 
 engage wholly, as here. Compare the 
 primary meaning of "divert, " to turn 
 aside, and trace a shade of these mean- 
 ings in the present uses of "amuse- 
 ment " and "diversion." 
 
 Mingling.— Should this be "having 
 mingled, "-to correspond with " havinsr 
 taken"? ^ 
 
 Speculations. —Trains of thought. 
 Connect with the usual meaning at the 
 present time. 
 
 I dally . . public— The .S'Mv'a 
 tor appeared daily from March ist 
 1711, until December 6th, 1712, and 
 was revived fpr a short time in 1714. 
 
 It ran through 635 numbers in all, .Ad- 
 dison contributing 274 papers, and 
 J^teele 240. 
 
 An essay.- .\ trial. Trace the tran- 
 sition to the meaning " essay" now has 
 in literature. 
 
 90 But before . . earth.— The 
 chief thought in this paragraph is the 
 different value that objects have when 
 looked at merely from a human stand- 
 point from that which thev have when 
 viewed in the light of eternity. 
 
 Exert . . gravity.— Shew their 
 real weight. 
 
 Upon emptying . . others.— The 
 
 experiment recorded in this paragraph 
 u^''t ^^^ "-'^^^y of titt(!s and honors, 
 which are so much esteemed among 
 men. Cf. Psalm i..\ii. 9. The last sen- 
 tence of the paragraph belongs more 
 fitly to the next paragraph. Show in 
 what respect the one sentence is the 
 complement of the other. 
 
 Edge of It.— N ... that even as late 
 atf .yldison's time the use of " its " was 
 .-ivoided. See note on "its last fulfil- 
 ling," p. 463. Why is Vanity described 
 as a ^i;li tiering weight ? 
 
 To one another— Note that " each 
 ><;hcr" is used in the next sentence. 
 Are both expressions cor ectly used ? 
 
 Some others— many others. —Name 
 other pairs in each case. 
 
 I observed . . other. -With the 
 teaching of this paragraph compare n 
 Corinthians IV. 17, Cowper's line, " Ke- 
 hind a frowning providence He hides a 
 smiling face," and the third stanza of 
 Longfellow's Resignation. Note care- 
 fully whether it would be adnn'ssible to 
 interchange "dialect" and "language" 
 as here used. 
 
 91. There Is a saying . . paper. 
 —Examine carefully tiie teaching of 
 this paragraph, and note how greatly 
 the value of the pairs is enhanced by 
 coTibination. Show that the parts of 
 the different pairs mentioned are proper- 
 ly co-related. 
 
 Natural parts.- " Parts " was com- 
 monly used in the last century in the 
 sense in which we now employ "tal- 
 ents." How does the experiment here 
 mentioned confirm the truth of the 
 Scotch sayini; ? 
 
 Falls of dashing.— Re-write in the 
 modern idiom. A dash of anything is 
 
472 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 a Mnall qimnt.ty .,f it ad.lerl or thrown 
 
 L^ I '''•" " '"'P'Tiincnce" is hero 
 
 used as tin. ..ppositr of •■ seriousness." 
 
 i-nse Its other mciiiiiiig 
 
 English octavo . . foUo.-The 
 
 Klca.s that the smaller English work is 
 the heavier .\,l<l,so,i also shows his 
 preference for the ancient authors, and 
 has .n m.nd perhaps, the famous con- 
 troversy on the comparative merits of 
 anaert and modern learning, to which 
 is nv ;'°"""''^"'^''^. '." I6y7, a satirical 
 
 //;' aST"^ ^ '""''"'• ''"' ^""''■' "^ 
 
 tri^fh?® ^"* trial. -That is, the 
 trial between 7C'ndo„i and ru/n-s. Note 
 the humor m the comparison, and also 
 1 1 the accounts of the remaining tests 
 Ihe twopenny piece" was the price 
 of each number of the .S>v7,,^/' after 
 the imposition of the half-penny tax 
 upon newspapers, which came iiUo ef- 
 feet July 3ist, 1712. "J-en divs before 
 this Swilt wrote : ■ ■ Grub Street has but 
 
 ten days to live, then an Acl of Parh'a- 
 ment takes place that ruins it by taximr 
 every sheet a halfpe^my. " In the.S>.v A;- 
 tor for July 30th, No. 445, the increase in 
 the price is announced, and in No. 488, 
 Addison refers in a humorous way to 
 remonstrances he had received on ac 
 count of the increased price. 
 
 Tekel.— .See Daniel V. 27. Does the 
 allusion here weaken Addison's claim 
 that the Spectator is a neutral paper. 
 
 I he first two lines of th j Latin motto 
 which stands at the head of this Essay 
 
 in the. S>^f/a/<;^ have been translated as 
 follows : 
 
 "In sleep, when fancy is let loose to 
 play. 
 
 Our dreams repeat the wishes of the 
 day. 
 
 Compose a paragraph amplifying the 
 statement made in these lin'.-s,'and an- 
 other illustrating the statement by refer- 
 ence to the Essay. 
 
 XVI. MISJUDGED HOSPITALITY. 
 
 93- Commerce. —Intercourse. De- 
 
 vek)p Its present meaning. 
 
 Rules of this klnd.-.Vo rules have 
 been mentioned in the preceding sen- 
 tence but the reference is to " h-s pttites 
 »iora/es which include rules of :on. 
 cluct, the courtesies of life 
 
 In other instances. -The reference 
 IS to those who understand the rules of 
 them" ^"^^^'^'^tliscretion in applying 
 
 Conversation. -This word as here 
 used shows the transition stage, havinjr 
 not only its present meaning, but also 
 US old meaning, mode of life, dencrt- 
 ment. ' 
 
 ^..?^^^!!*^T^- ■ inclination. -The sub- 
 
 ject of the Essay is stated here, illustrat- 
 ed in the incident related, and restated 
 m the last sentence. 
 
 Note peculiarities in the structure 
 of ma visit," "from my cousin," "in 
 great hurry," "whispered her," and 
 other phrases in the selection 
 
 ^^h ^^^^ mirabms. - Literally, 
 wonderful water. "^ 
 
 My appetite . . gone. — How 
 
 otherwise expressed in the selection? 
 
 Mr. Blckerstaflf.— A mm de plume, 
 or pen-name, under which Swift wrote 
 
 ., ^^^^ .f*®'"- - Light table-beer. 
 
 October is the name of a strong 
 heavy ale. brewed in that month' 
 
 Mmgo" is a strong ale with a sharp 
 pungent taste. It may here mean a 
 .stronger liquor, perhaps a mi.xture. 
 
 Stale-beer ' is a beer kept till it is 
 flat or spiritless. The familv is well 
 supjMied with liquors, as was generally 
 the case with families in Swift's time. 
 
 Write a composition on the Latin 
 motto " To have faithfully learned the 
 liberal arts makes the manners gentle " 
 that is, liberal studies have a refinin'e 
 influence. ° 
 
 The Tatler was a serial started by 
 Steele in 1709, and published three 
 times a week from the 12th of April of 
 that year to January 2nd, i8ir. Steele 
 Addison, and Swift were the principai 
 contributors. 
 
FROM THE ''ESSAY ON MAN" 
 
 473 
 
 XVII. FROM THE " ESSAY ON MAN." 
 
 The TTu^., onAfan fs a poem in four epistles which treat " of the nature and 
 
 ate of „.un with respect to •' ( ,) " the universe." (a) - himself, as an individual,- 
 
 (3) society, and (4) "happiness." The extracts to " Whatever is, is right " 
 
 are fronuhe first epistle; to ■•Till tired . . oer." fronuhe second ; to 'And 
 
 H f ?, V * "!""'■" ^"'"^ '•'" "''■■'' ■■ ^"^' ''^^ remaining extracts are fron, 
 he fourth. Even those extracts, which comprise most of the finest passages of 
 •lie poen:, are not free fro.n that adn.ixture of truth and error which charaeter- 
 ./es the teac lungs of the Essay. The spurious philosophy of the poem is that 
 of nohngbroke the celebrated Deist, who is said to have contributed the argu- 
 ment, for which Pope furnished the ver.e. 
 
 96. Page prescribU -Explained by 
 
 their present state." 
 
 From brutes . . know.-Supplv 
 
 the ellipsis. ' 
 
 Being here. -The verb is notional 
 here, as in the fifth line p 07 
 . Who sees . . world. -The teach- 
 ing of the.se lines is in opposition to 
 that of Matthew .V. 31, and other pas- 
 sages of Scn))ture. Deism admits the 
 existence of a creating Ciod, but denies 
 to Him any concern in human affai s 
 ^ Hope springs . . brpast.— This 
 IS one of the many lines of the Eswy 
 that have passed into daily use. The 
 sentiment of the line finds expression 
 r.'i?,,'? ^''-^y'^ "'"""s homely saying, 
 \N hile there is life, there's hope. "The 
 .nncient story of Pandora's box illustrates 
 the same sentiment. The poet makes 
 man's present hai^piness depend partly 
 uj)on his ignorance respecting future 
 events, and partly ui)on his hope of a 
 future state of happiness. 
 
 Ixpatlates.— Wanders without re- 
 straint. Compare the usual meaning 
 An humbler heaven. - ////w/v, r 
 than the heaven for which the tutored 
 niind hopes. Note the truthful satire 
 m " no Christians thirst for gold. " the 
 allusion being to the motive of the 
 Spanish conquests in .America. 
 
 97. Seraph's fire.— The Seraphim are 
 the fiery, and the Cherubim the winged 
 .spirits. " The first place or degree is 
 given to the angels of love, which are 
 termed Seraphim ; the second to the 
 
 angels of light, wluch are teuiViU 
 Cherubim. —Bacon, 
 
 What If the foot . , ordains.— 
 
 See I Corinthians xii. 15- 18. 
 Informs our mortal part. " in- 
 
 f()rms " has here its i)rimary meaning, 
 gives form, power, life, to. The teach- 
 ing of the pa.ssage. " all are . . all" 
 has Its origin in the Bible truth that (io'd 
 IS omnipresent— a truth recognized in- 
 deed in the systems of ancient mytho- 
 logy, and generally in the beliefs of 
 savage tribes. - 
 
 From the perversion of this truth has 
 come the pantheistic doctrine, which 
 regards the universe, including man 
 not as a creation, properiy siJeakingj 
 but as modes or manifestations of the 
 Divine mind, as God him.self Panthe- 
 ism IS poetical rather than philo.sophi- 
 cal, and pantheistic sentiment may be 
 found even in the poetry of tho.se who 
 would iiot care to be called pantheists. 
 
 98. Behold the child . . r'er. 
 —Pope endorses Dryden's opinion that 
 " men are but children of a larger 
 .growth"; they merely change their 
 toys. 
 
 Vindicate.— Lay claim to. Trace 
 connection with the usual meaning 
 
 99- As Short of reason.- Fill out 
 the comparison. The poet in this sec- 
 tion, "Has God . . for all." teaches 
 that all animals, including man, are 
 mutually dependent upon one another. 
 
 Whate'er . . best.- -Compare the 
 concluding lines of Goldsmith's Travel- 
 Icr. 
 
 His can't be wrong right — 
 
 There is a half truth in this 'oft quoted 
 
 iiiie >\ljigli juaJics il all tin; more danger- 
 
474 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 il 
 
 OU5. Pdpfc intend* to show the suffici- 
 ency of morality. The Deists denied 
 all revelation and the necrssiiy for it, 
 deeming natural religion sufticient. 
 
 FLaunti — fluttera. — rhese verbs 
 should change places, if used in their 
 usual senses. 
 
 What differ more . . fellow.— 
 The argument is that whether monarch, 
 monk, parson, or cobbler, the worth is 
 in the man, not in his rank or position. 
 There is more difference between the 
 parson sober ("a wise man ") and the 
 parson drunk (" a fool "), than between 
 the parson and the cobbler in the same 
 condition ; and so, between the mon- 
 arch and the monk. 
 
 The rert . . pronellc. -Apart 
 from worth, everything else is a mere 
 question of dress and display. 
 
 loo. All the Howards.— //owarrf is 
 the family name oi the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, the premier peer of England. 
 
 Pope "laughs at the claims of long«<e. 
 scent ; " but see his Prologue to tht 
 Satires, 388-390. 
 
 Aureliua.— Marcus Aurelius. "the 
 philosopher." was Emperor of Rome, 
 A. p. 161 — 180. Socrates, the di.stin 
 guished Greek philosopher, was con- 
 demned to death on false ch&rges. and 
 killed himself by drinking hemlock poi- 
 son, B.C. 399. See Selection Lxxxv. 
 
 Virtue alone . , below.- -Hap 
 piness does not consist in honors, noble 
 birth, or greatness ; but in virtue. 
 
 Never elated . . blesB'd.— " The 
 law of noble life " which Mr. Ruskin 
 finds summed in this couplet found ex- 
 pression long before Pope's time. See 
 Romans xn. 15. 
 
 Most of the couplets in this selection 
 are worthy of being committed to 
 memory. They furnish also many ex- 
 cellent themes for exercises ia compoei* 
 tion. 
 
 XIX. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 loa. WeBtmlnater.—" Minster" and 
 "monastery" are derived from the 
 same Latin word monasteriu,n ; but 
 the former came into the English lan- 
 guage at an earlier period than the lat- 
 ter. 
 
 Westminster School.- One of the 
 great schools of England ; the build- 
 ings formerly belonged to the Abbev. 
 
 103. in relief.— That is, raised above 
 the surface of the surrounding stone. 
 This elevation, when slight, is termed 
 bas-relief, low relief, or basso-relievo; 
 when very marked, it is termed alto- 
 relievo, or high relief. 
 
 105. Foets^ Comer.— A section of 
 the Abbey where authors of note are 
 buried. It is said that it derives its 
 name from the fact that the poet 
 Chaucer was the first literary man 
 buried there. The busts of some poets 
 find a place in the Abbey, while their 
 bodies lie elsewhere. 
 
 106. Crusader. -"Soldier of the 
 cross ; " each'wore a cross on his right 
 breast. The first crusade took place 
 in 1096 ; the last, or sixth, in 1270. 
 
 The crusades, being; undertaken from 
 
 sentiment and not for gain, resemble 
 the deeds of romance, of fiction, or of 
 fairyland, rather than the deliberate 
 actions of rational men. 
 
 Gothic Sculpture.— " Gothic" was 
 first used as a term of contempt ap- 
 plied in medifeval times to architec- 
 ture differing from that of Greece or 
 Rome, its chief characteristic being 
 the predominance of the pointed arch. 
 
 107. -Henry the Seventh's Chapel. 
 — In reality a continuation of the choir 
 of the Abbey. 
 
 108. Knights of the Bath. —In 
 early times sovereigns, at the ceremony 
 of coronation, were accustomed to 
 create a number of knights, who, 
 on the eve of their receiving knight- 
 hood, took a bath in token of the 
 purity which was to characterize their 
 lives. The name appears first in the 
 time of Henry lY. Since 1839, no 
 banners have been added to those al- 
 ready hung in the chapel. 
 
 Mausoleum. — mau-so-U-um — The 
 word is said to be derived from Mau- 
 solus, a king of ancient Caria, in Asia 
 Minor, in whose memory a ma^ni^- 
 
THE BARD, 
 
 mummy enclosed in a little sSk were 
 worn round the neck as amuLts ; and 
 mummy [.owder was esteemed a cure 
 for many diseases. 
 Sim\i^%-cam.by.ses.- A king of 
 
 47S 
 
 [Ancient Persia, who conquered Egypt 
 ^524 B.C.. and treated the ncoi/lc 
 
 vji-nesib X. 6. His descendants arc sairf 
 to have settled in Egypt, '''"'^^'^'^sdid 
 
 XX. THE BARD. 
 
 The oprnlnjf stanzas of the poem represent the ^.m,, r r^^ 
 on its march through the defil^ of Snowcon bv an old h H "T ' ■"'*'^'^^' 
 race-who, from the summit of p }nftT T . ' bard-the last of the 
 
 and misery he has caused 'nd es^e fj^tr h^r^t ''' ''"' ^"^ '''' """ 
 Even mute nature seems to symXe w'th himln h"' " ""' '" ^'^"ow-bards. 
 vengeance upon the cruel king. ^ ^°"°^- ^"^ to call down 
 
 In the third stanza, the bard navs i frih,,»„ ^r «■ ■ 
 
 ions, ending with a pathetic lamTn^wh 'h fi- r^u^edT '^h''' 'IT "'"''"^"• 
 ance of the spirits of the dead menTh '"'^'™'''^'' ^'X 'he sudden appcar- 
 doom of Edward and hfs tee. ' """' ^"^ '™ '" Pronouncing the 
 First, he foretells the awful fate nf p^i,. i tt 
 
 wife, is foully murdered in Lt^y C^I" I h.': li '°"t" '' "' '^'^'^"^^^ 
 victories of Edward III in Kmnl V' u °"'''^' '^^ prophecy of the 
 
 n^entforherwickedn s cfTdw^^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^"^ '■■'^^^"^^- 
 
 Richard II., with its sDlendid h^Jn , "^ '""'"'y '^'^''^^'^ = "^ ^^e reign of 
 
 ignominious del b;'^:a 'itio^^ Helh" "^''■^"'^'"' ^"'^ = ^"'"'^ ^'^'"^'^ 
 murder of Hen:y VI and other -i^ ^hen predicts the Wars of the Roses, the 
 of Richard III He is nro^T ' ? '^' ^°^''" °^ ^^"d^"' ^"d the death 
 .henthesp' LftlaT rr ITak^tT^^^^^^^ °^ ^^^^^'^ ^-". 
 
 nunciation. ^r their country is avenged the thron'r r"^ '"''^ ^'^'"" '^^■ 
 by a prince of Welsh descent men,? V n Tu '^"" '""''^"^^ *^ ^''^^ 
 .hare in the glory and splenlVo^Zthrone '"' '^""'°"' ''' ^^^'^^ '^-^ * 
 
 The glorious reign of Elizabeth is next foretold and th« u u- ,• 
 burst of the Elizabethan period, which seeTs to th^ h h -"^ "^'^ ""'• 
 
 palmy days of Welsh minstrels^. *^^ '^^'"^ ^'^« ^ "^^'^1 of the 
 
 In the last stanza are foreshadowed Shakpsrw.nr«'c a 
 the " distant warblings " of the poeu ^teTM^ """^^ ^"'°"'^ ^P'^' *"d 
 
 once more to Edward the bard'em nds him ta? H '"" '^"'"""^ '''^ ^^°"^^^« 
 light of poetic genius is vain that ^soil 'ThU , ""''""' ^° '''^'"^*^^ ^^e 
 ir^creasing brillfancy. and that <thlt?ulh^^^^^'^^^^^^ ^'^^« f°«b with 
 
 own cause - are asircO. T^ eai ^ ' ; i^r T' ''' '"^' ^'°^ "^ '^'^ 
 roU^ at to f.e;. * ai, eaO, ^ ^ng. uiid he plunges into the river tha. 
 
476 
 
 THE HI(,H SCHOOL REAPER. 
 
 TIT. Ruin . . King. —This ab- 
 nipt ItcgiiiiiinK i^ nionr forcihlo than if 
 the ])(Hin opened with a description of 
 lid ward's inarch. The rrjv'tilion of the 
 r sound also adds to the force. Kd- 
 waril did not deserve to be called ruth- 
 less. H<' was " an iin|)ulsive, Renerous 
 man, tru.stful, averse from cruelly, prone 
 to furtive." 
 
 Thougb fann'd . . state.— .\ strik- 
 ing niel.ii)hor. The meaniuK ai)|HMrs 
 to be ; -The victory, which is now ci-le- 
 ])raled by the flying of banners, will 
 prove noi to be a lasting triumph. 'I"o 
 what is conquest compared ? 
 
 E'en thy virtues.— What is the force 
 of " e'en " ? For an estimate of ICd ward's 
 eharactcr, see Cireen's History of the 
 lua^/ish People, Chap. iv. 
 
 l^ightly . . fears.— What differ- 
 ent meanings has " nightly "? The ter- 
 rors of a guilty conscience are depicleil 
 in tliis line. 
 
 Cambria. — Ancient and jioetical 
 name of Wales. What is gnined by the 
 re[)etition of " from ( lambria's " ? 
 
 Crested prlda. — lulward's warriors, 
 of which he was proud. NiHe the me- 
 tonymy. Explain the epithet "crestel." 
 
 Wllddlsmiy.--" WiM " adds to the 
 notior. of confusion i..i/lie,l in "dis- 
 may." 
 
 Shaggy.— A co:ni;> )n 
 thet for forest-co-i'cre ■'. 
 
 He wound . . array 
 ample of Imitative Harmony, 
 with the third line of the A7( 
 
 Stout QlO'Bter. Mow well the poet 
 shows the alarm which the bard's words 
 produced, by representing one of Ed- 
 ward's distinguished generals struck 
 speechless with terror, and another call- 
 ing his men to arms as if about to be 
 attacked by an enemy. Gloucester and 
 Mortimer w-ere two of the most jDower- 
 ful nobles of I'Mward's reign ; the for- 
 mer was the king's son-in-knv, and the 
 latter had l)een regent while Edward 
 was in the East, at the beginning of his 
 reign. 
 
 Couch'd . . lance. — To couch a 
 spear or lance is to bring it down from 
 the perpendicular position in which it is 
 carried when not in use, and to hold it 
 with head to the front, in readiness for 
 attack or defence. " (Juivi^ring " is 
 probably imitated from xim Latin, 
 
 po'tical epi- 
 
 -.\n ex- 
 ompare 
 
 treifiem ha\tti, and intended tod."(rrib« 
 the vibrating motion made by the han- 
 dle (usually of ash), or by the spear it- 
 self when hurled against anything in 
 which it sticks. There may also be an 
 allusion here to the tremor caused by 
 Mortimer's fear. 
 
 On a rock. -" The rock is probably 
 meant for I'enmaen-mawr, the northern 
 termination of the Snowdon range. ' 
 How would an artist paint "a rock 
 whose haughty brow frowns " ? How 
 would he paint "frowning Wrath " ? 
 The former is Personal Metaphor; the 
 latter, Personification. 
 
 Old— foaming. - How do these epi- 
 thets harmonize with the general spirit 
 of t!ie poem ? 
 
 Robed . . woe Compare in 
 beauty and expressiveness with its pros« 
 e(|uivalent, "clad in mourning." 
 
 Haggard. — Show the connection in 
 meaning with //</,;'. 
 
 Lilca a meteor. — The comparison is 
 probably suggested t)y Milton's descrip- 
 tion of Satan's ensign, which "shone 
 like a meteor streaming to the wind." 
 Par. Lost, i. 537. 
 
 Prophet's Are. —Inspiration. 
 
 Struck . , lyre.--.\ highly poetical 
 line— as if the bard's lyre sympathized 
 with his sorrow. So in the Lmiy 0/ the 
 Lake, II. 7, the old minstrel's harp 
 seemed to forbode disaster. 
 
 112. Hark . . beneath. —The 
 poets fre(|uently represent nature as 
 sympathizing with human grief. Com- 
 pare Byron's line, " grieving, if aught 
 inanimate e'er grieves." 
 
 Hundred arms. — The conipari.son of 
 branches of trees to arms is comnion 
 among the poets. Longfellow describes 
 the trees as " waving their long arms to 
 and fro," and "clapping their little 
 hands in glee." The comparison of 
 leaves to hands is as old as the time 01 
 kaiah. 
 
 Hoarser murmurs.- Murmurs be- 
 coming hoarser and hoarser. The sigh- 
 ing of the trees changes to hoarse mur- 
 nmrs of revenge, 
 
 Vocal no more.— The oak groves 
 were the temples of the Druids, and 
 hence the resort of the bards. 
 
 Cambria's fatal day. — What is 
 meant ^ 
 
 Llewellyn.— liithcr a bard, or the 
 
fur. BARD. 
 
 Ml 
 
 of thp loftiest of 
 near tin- source 
 
 The shores 
 
 or the 
 
 prince r>f that nnme, who is desirib-d 
 as " Llewellyn the mild. " 
 
 Cold . . head.— Note the power 
 of the liard's sonjjs, like that of Or- 
 pheus, the swe<'t singer of (irecian my- 
 thology, whose music was so divine that 
 " irees uprooted left their place sequa- 
 cious of tile lyre." 
 
 PUnllmmon.— On( 
 
 the VV'dsh mountains 
 of the river Stnern. 
 
 Arvon'B Bbore. 
 Caernarvonshire opposite to the isl'? of 
 Anglesey " ((iray). 
 
 Observe how tlur |)oet adds to his 
 ghastly picture, by rcpresenling even 
 the famished birds of pn-y flying in ter- 
 ror from the scene of the nmnier. 
 
 Dear . . heart. — .\n adaptation 
 of ShakcsfX'are's lines : 
 " As dear to me as are the ruddy drops 
 That visit my sad heart." 
 
 — Julius Ceesar, ii. i. 
 
 What does the dash after " cries ' 
 indicate? 
 
 On yonder cliffs.— Note the effect 
 jiroduced by the e'iiploynu^nt of the 
 rhetorical tigure called Vision. 
 
 Qrlsly.— Comiiare in meaning with 
 "haggard" and "ghastly." 
 
 Dreadful harmony. —Why dread- 
 ful f 
 
 And weave . . line.— This idea 
 is borrowed from an old Norse poem, 
 paraphrased by (Iray in The Tntal 
 Sisters, in wh' "uhe Fates of th«?(iothic 
 mythology at ''' >])iesented "as weav- 
 ing the destinies of those who were 
 doomed to perish in battle. ' Dr. John- 
 son criticises Ckay .severely for convert- 
 ing slaughtered bards into weavers. He 
 seems to have forgotten FalstafTs wish : 
 ' ' 1 would 1 were a weaver ; 1 could 
 sing psalms or anything." — / Henry 
 /7. II. 4. 
 
 Weave . . woof. — The warp and 
 woof woven together constitute the 
 web. " Weave " is repeated for poeti- 
 cal effect, as " mark" in 1. i, p. 113. 
 
 Give . . enough. — Johnson con- 
 sidered this Gray's weakest line. 
 
 In early times historical scenes and in- 
 cidents were woven or worked into the 
 texture of tapestry. The most celebrat- 
 ed example of this is the Bayeu.x tapes- 
 try, a pictorial history of the Nonuuu 
 Conquest. 
 
 II). The night. — Sept. aist, 1337. 
 Staie.wolf . . mate.— Ihe wolf is 
 
 one III the few wild animals that will 
 devour a " mangled r ate. ' 'I he lan- 
 
 fuage is strong but not unmerited by 
 sabella, l'"dward s adulterous queen. 
 Shakespeare in /// Henry >'!■ !. 4, 
 makes the Duke of York apply the 
 same epithet to Margaret of Anjou, but 
 for a very different rea.son. 
 
 The scourge of Heaven. The 
 
 Scourge that Heaven permits to come 
 upon men for their sins. Should not 
 war rather be called the scourge of 1 lell ( 
 
 Amazement . . behind. An. il- 
 lusion to the terror excited in France by 
 the victories of Fdward 111., and to the 
 misery and desolation which his victor- 
 ies entailed upon that country. See 
 (ireen's Uistorv of the Jini,'lish People, 
 Hk. IV. Chui). III. 
 
 Mighty . . Obsequies. I':dward 
 
 III. died in a dishonoied old age, 
 abandoned by his children, and evi-n 
 robbed in his last moment' by his cour- 
 tiers and his mistress, Alice Ferrers. 
 Is the . . fled.— Read in i tone 
 of surprise. Why ? The Hlack l»rince 
 died ill June, 1376. 
 
 The swarm . . bom.— Complete. 
 
 the question. F.xplain what is meant 
 by "born in thy noontide Ix-am, " and 
 show that this expression is used appro- 
 priately with " swarm." 
 
 The rising mom.— Tiie new king, 
 Richard II., whose reign was ushered 
 in with great rejoicing. F.xpUiin fully 
 the meaning of the compariso.'i made; 
 in the six lines that follow, and show in 
 what respect they fitly illustrate the 
 reign of Richard II. 
 
 Fair laughs . . goes.— Descrilx! 
 a Itnighini^ morn. What is gained by 
 using " zejihyr" and "azure realm"? 
 Giveequivaientproseexpressions. "(Gal- 
 lant " is used in the sense oi gay, sho7vy. 
 What is the line, " In . . goes," in- 
 tended to illustrate? 
 
 Youth , . helm.— A favorite sub- 
 ject for artists. In Richard II. II. 1, 
 the conversation between John of Gaunt 
 and the Duke of York reveals the life of 
 pleasure which Richard led. 
 
 Grim repose. — Explain. What 
 events in Richard's reign may be de- 
 scribed as a Whirlwind's su\iyf 
 
 fill high , , guest. — In those 
 
 i t 
 
478 
 
 THE /f/C/f SCHOOL READEH. 
 
 lines thrro is nn nllusjon u, kicharcrs 
 lov.' ..( pl.aMii.-, and tu tin- supposed 
 cause o( Ills (Ic.iih 
 
 Balenu gmU«. -.\ smii.. full „f ^,/,. 
 or lalaiinty. Distinguish from .'luisHv 
 smiif. 
 
 114. Heard . . way.-A prophoiy 
 
 of Ihr War, ol the Kosfs 
 
 Bittle bray. " ltra> ' is fr..ru tlu- 
 sain.; root a, " l,ia\vl.' Trace any con- 
 iicitioii in meaning'. 
 . Long yeara . . way. - lApr.ss 
 '" l-n.sc (iKiion. Slum the appropri- 
 itni.;s.so( ■■ kindri-rr' and " mow." 
 
 Ye towers. - "'I'l,,. „id,.st p.iri c/ 
 ilii- lower of London is vuI.Ljarlv atlri- 
 l)iilfd to Julius Ca'sar" ((Jrav), ' Kcfer 
 to sonii" of the foul niurd.r.silial took 
 |>la»-c in the 'I'c wcj-. 
 
 Meek usurper -in (iray's oninion 
 till' I.aiKMstnaii line had no ri>,'ht of 
 iiilu'riiaiH'i' to the cioun. Ilenrv's 
 'onsort, Mallard of .\njoii, was' a 
 Woman o( heroic s|)irit, who siru/^Mrh-d 
 nard to save the crown for her hiish.ind 
 and her son. "Meek" is a mild term 
 to apply to the weak-minded royal ci- 
 pher. Henry VI. 
 
 Above . . spread, Ifthereisanv 
 historical reference in these lines, it is 
 probably to the varying fortunes of the 
 rival houses during the thirty years 
 which the war lasted. 
 The bristled boar. A name j,riv,.„ 
 
 to Richard 111. because iiis crest was a 
 J- liver boar. ( Jb.servc the continuance 
 of the comparison in the u.se of " -.al- 
 lows." la "thorny .shade," there is 
 probably an allusion to the fhidiiifr ,,f 
 the crown lU'ar a h iwlhorii bush after 
 the battle of Hosworth. What is the 
 allusion in " infant-goic"? 
 
 Now . . doom.— The chantje of 
 
 metre from tetrameter to p.'ntameter, 
 
 and then to hexameter in the last line,' 
 
 produces a rhetorical effc-t, f,M-eateri)er- , 
 
 haps in this stanza tiian in the other two 
 
 Stan/as where the same changes occur. 
 
 In these two lines wo seem to see the 
 
 weavers bending to their task with 
 
 increased cJelight and energy. Greater i 
 
 vividness is produced also by the tro- | 
 
 chaic effect of the lirst foot of the last i 
 
 line, and by the em|)loymcnt of the \ 
 
 abrupt-ending consonant sounds. Why | 
 
 is the loom iKcursii/} \ 
 
 Tlie tliread Is spun.— An allusion to | 
 
 the work of the Jhreo Fntes of classical 
 mythology, one of whom held the di». 
 talf, a second spun out the thr.Md of life, 
 and the third cut the tlireatl when tlu- 
 period of hie allotted to each individual 
 came to an end. 
 
 Half Of thy heart. .So Horace, in 
 Oiff I. X «, calls Virgil ihe half of 'his 
 ^oul. The allusion here is to l-lleanor 
 of Castile, wife of Mdward I., whose 
 heroic proof of affection for herhiisban<l 
 is thus referred to by Tennyson in ./ 
 \ />ii(iin of iuiir W'oimn . - 
 
 "Who kneeling', with one arm aixait 
 
 her king. 
 Drew forth the poison with her balmy 
 
 breath, ' 
 i'".li'anor died shortly after lOdwards re- 
 turn f.din VXales, and he showed his 
 sorrow for her loss by e. 'cting a cross 
 to her memory at each place where her 
 fiuieral procession halted for tin- night 
 on th.' journey to Westminster, from 
 nardby,in N'ottinghamshire, where she 
 died. Some of these crosses still re- 
 niain. Charing Cross in London re- 
 ceived its name from the l-'Jeanor cross 
 erected at that s|)ot. 
 
 Stay, stay ! Atldressed to the 
 si)irits of tiie departed bards. Wily 
 does the poet dismiss them .at this 
 p'.'-int.-' 
 
 Forlorn. .\n Anglo Sa.xon jmrtiei- 
 pli', from the s.ime verbal ster.i as /<mc 
 (leosan). An e.\ani|)leof rho^acism, or 
 the interchange of > and /-. Compare 
 als<)/>-,vvandy/v:c, /w/and nihe. 
 
 In yon . . skies.- A jioeticalde. 
 .scnpti"!f of the glow of the .setting 
 sun. 
 
 But oh ! . . soul !- -he vision 
 changes; it is no longer a vision of de- 
 struction and death, but one of glory, 
 in which the Welsh peo|:le have a share' 
 Glittering skirts. -There seems to 
 be a contrast with the " winding sheet " 
 of II. I., on which were traced the char- 
 acters that foretold the doom of Ivl- 
 ward's race. Thes': "skirts," on the 
 other hand, bear in glittering characters 
 the projjhecy of Britain's glory, which 
 the bard imagines to begin with the ac- 
 cession of Henry VI 1., a prince of 
 W elsli descent. The future glories o*' 
 Britainseem to spread themselves before 
 iim like a ])anorama, until his eyes 
 bcconje wearied and his mind confused 
 
 S 
 
Till: tiARt). 
 
 47y 
 
 with thi- rapid sucrcsHinn of pictiirts 
 that arc pn-viucd (,, ins ..rir.ipiiirr.l 
 visiun. rii.ic IS no (liiiilit an aMnsl.in 
 lot u- revival ..f harnin^, lo thr Miir.t 
 ot (liM-ov.Tv, and, in f,','n.'ral, to'tlir 
 Kn-al.T adMiy in cvfrv d.'parlnifnt of 
 III'' wliK-li niark.'d tlir opening of ih,. 
 sixtrcntli icntury, as if a nt-w ira had 
 dawned upon \\\v worhl. 
 
 Long: lost Arthur " It wns the 
 <<)inninn iMJi.f of il„. \V,.|,,h nation 
 that KinKArthiirwasstiilalivoin I'aiiv- 
 l.ii'.d, and would return af.;ain to re en 
 overMritaii, ■((iray). it uasdoiil.t|,.ss 
 III deferene<- to this belief that Henry 
 * 11. 'laiiied his son Arthur. 
 
 Genuine kings. - \\ hat is the (oree 
 .";' ■■K';ii'ime ■> •Ho.;, M,.,.|i„ ;„„i 
 
 I aliessin had prophesied that the Welsh 
 should refrain their M)verei>,Mitv over 
 liritain; which seemed to |;e aeeoni- i 
 phshed inthehouscof l-udor," (Cray ) ' 
 
 Siibllme . . rear.^'SuMiine' 
 has here its literal nu'aniiif,', raised on 
 high, elevated. The ref.reiiee is to the 
 I iidor sovereijrns, and to the splendor 
 of their reiijn. In the expr.'ssion, 
 'Ix-arded niajestv," \v<- h.ive no douot 
 an allusion to the fashion of wearing,' 
 beards, which became ((juimon in the 
 nu'iiof i.'enry Vllj., the kin,^^ himself 
 settm.i,' the fashion. Note the taluc of 
 the comma after " dames." 
 
 115. In the midst . . grace - 
 CJray in these 1 nes lollow.s the fashion 
 of Spenser and other writers of lOliza- 
 beth'- reion, who ^rnuilied I,,.,- vanitv 
 by addressing her in a strain of fulsome 
 flattery. 
 
 WhatstrlngB . . play.-Under 
 
 the li>,'ure o( a l):;,d sin,t;iii<,' and ac- I 
 companyinf,' himself with' the harp, we ' 
 liave a prophecy of the poetical revival 
 of I'.li/aheth's reign. 
 
 TuHftBBln. — A listiiiguished bard 
 WHO flourished in the si.\th century. 
 High praise isbostowed upon the poetry 
 of this period when the bard deems i't 
 \yorthy of 'I'aliessin. 
 
 Bright . . wings.- i:.vpiain the 
 personification. The bard seems to 
 be enrajuiired with the bright vis- 
 ion now presented to him. If it is 
 possible to make a |)articular apj)lica- 
 tion of the comparison in these lines, 
 we may find in the expressions, " the 
 eye of heaven" and " many-co'lor'd," 
 
 an allusion to the snblii-itv and iiril- 
 iNiiuy of the writings of this lime and 
 to the great variuiy of these writ inns 
 res|)eclively. 
 
 •Ahe verie . . drMt. What is 
 
 the subjeet of ".tdom"? j hese lin.-s 
 I'ler to Npensers luiirif Qnff,,, from 
 .vhich (iray borrowed the language- 
 " I lerce wars and faithful loves »h..li 
 moralize niv song." 
 
 In bUBkin'd . . breast. -11,.. 
 inigedi.'s of Shakespeare .ir.. meaai. 
 
 lie f>iiU'ni was a shoe won anion 
 •he ancients by tragic actors. It 1 ad 1' 
 yery thick sole and was intended togi\,' 
 the actor an elevated appearance. In 
 
 pleasing I'ain" we h.ive n,,. |,j.„r,. 
 Oxymoron. Dryden, Tennyson, and 
 othtr I ,ets use ' - same .'xpression. 
 .Note Ihe forcible way of expivssing the 
 iigitation pnxhiced by H,>in>r. V.\. 
 amine the appropriatene.ss of the eni- 
 tllcls employed. 
 
 ^ A voice . . bear.-Mihon. fn 
 
 .'■ales . . bear," we have an allu- 
 Slot) to his chief poem. 
 
 And distant . . explr<».~""| he 
 succession ol poets after .Milton's time " 
 ((iray.) 
 
 Fond, impious man.— Kdward f. 
 
 '■ I'ond ' is used in i(s original sense of 
 /.'(.Vv/,. Why is '• impious " a suitable 
 epithet h(>re > To what is the slaughter 
 [ ol the bards compared? ( iive tlx' mean- 
 ing of "sanguine" here, and show the 
 connection of its various me.ining.s. 
 
 He repairs.— Note the force-of " re- 
 jiairs." "The goldtin tlood" of .sun- 
 light IS merely broken or interrupted by 
 these clouds. 
 
 With Joy . . mine. -Contrarst the 
 
 (loom of the bard with that of Ivlward. 
 r..\plain the meanir.gof " .sceptred " by 
 e.xp.'uiding it into a clause. 
 
 Note the imperftret rhymes, especially 
 in the last Stan/a. 
 
 The tradition on which The Bard \^ 
 Ouiided IS groundless, but that it has 
 had general currency is not surprising 
 for the fact that national .songs help to 
 keep ahvea .spirit of patriotism wbiild 
 
 I tiirmsh a motive for such a massacre 
 , Many stories have been told of the 
 : wonderfully inspiring effects of national 
 I airs, from the time of Tvrta.-us, whose 
 I songs animated the courage of the 
 Spartans in the seventh century before 
 
48o 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Chnst. It is related, for instance, that 
 at the battle of Jemappes, in 1792, Du- 
 mouriez, the French general, turned de- 
 feat into victory by strikinj^ up the Mar- 
 seillaise at a critical moment in the 
 fight ; and that another French general, 
 in want of reinforcements, asked for a 
 thousand men and a copy of the Mar. 
 sei liaise, 
 
 Gray's two great odes. The Progress 
 of Poesy and The Bard, are called 
 " Pmdaric," because they are modelled 
 after the style and manner of I'indar, 
 the great lyric poet of Greece. The 
 poem is in three sections, of three stan- 
 
 zas eacn. The first stanza of each sec- 
 tion is called the strophe, or turn ; the 
 second, the attfistrophe, or counter- 
 turn ; and the third, \hQepocics, or after- 
 -ong. These names are d ived from 
 the movements and the singing of the 
 chorus in the Greek theatre. 
 
 Observe that the first section con- 
 tains a description of the bard, his de- 
 nunciation of Edward, and his lament 
 for his dead companions ; the second 
 describes the fate of Edward and his 
 race ; and the third has for its subject 
 the bard's vision of Britain's glorious 
 future. 
 
 }JCL ON AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE. 
 
 iff 
 
 116. The noble Earl . . it.— Parlia- 
 ment opened on the 18th of November, 
 and Earl Percy was tlie mover of the 
 Address in the House of Lords. 
 
 Another princess.— Sophia, fifth 
 daughter of George III., born Novem- 
 ber 3rd, x-j-j-j. 
 
 Misfortune and disgrace.— Chat- 
 ham considered it a misfortune and a 
 disgrace for England to be at war with 
 her colonies, regarding the war as 
 unjust on the part of the mother 
 country. General Rurgoyne's army, 
 called the " Northern force" on 
 p. 119, had surrendered at Sara- 
 toga, October 17th, just one month 
 before the delivery of this speech, 
 but tidings of tho disaster had 
 not then reached England. The sur- 
 render is foreshadowed i. the speech, 
 p. 119. 
 
 Monstrous measures. — Thegovem- 
 ment proposed the employment of 
 Indians in the war with y\merica. See 
 p. 120. In the course of the debate, 
 Lord Suffolk, one of the secretaries of 
 state, defended tiieir employment on 
 the ground that "it was perfectly justi- 
 fiable to use all the means that God 
 and nature put into our hands," a 
 statement against which Chatham pro- 
 tested in a powerful burst of eloquence. 
 
 Upon our honors. — In consequence 
 nf our rank. 
 
 117. Minister of the day. -.'\ com- 
 mon way of speaking of the Premier, 
 who at that time was Lord North. 
 
 But yesterday . . reverence— An 
 
 adaptation of Shakespeare's lines in 
 Julius Caesar, iii. 2. 116-118. 
 
 Poetry— Action. —What feature 
 common to poetry and fiction has the 
 speaker in mind? 
 
 1 18. French interference.— Chat- 
 ham was throughout his life a deter- 
 mmed opponent of France, regarding 
 that country as the natural enemy of 
 England. He was opposed to the war 
 in America ; but when France, in Feb- 
 ruary, 1778, made a close alliance with 
 the revolted colonies, ho demanded 
 the vigorous prosecution of the. war; 
 and while speaking in the House of 
 Lords in opposition to a motion in 
 favor of peace, April, 1778, he sank 
 down in a fit, and was carried home tc 
 die. 
 
 Plenipotentiaries.— Ambassadors 
 to foreign courts, furnished with full 
 poaver to negotiate treaties, or to trans- 
 act other state business. Benjamin 
 Franklin, Arthur Lee, and Silas Dcane 
 were the plenipotentiaries or commis- 
 sioners referred to here, and it was 
 through Franklin's influence, aided by 
 the disaster at Saratoga, that the al- 
 liance with France was brought about 
 in 1775. Chatham, in concert with 
 Franklin, had at one time prepared a 
 bill which was designed to remove all 
 the causes of dispute between England 
 and her colonies, but the bill was re- 
 jected by Parliament. 
 
 Rebels— enemies.- What does the 
 
FROM THE VICAk OF WAKEFIELD. 481 
 
 change of name signify ? Compare the 
 change fVom rebellion to revoluhon. 
 
 In the omitted portion of this para- 
 graph Chatham refers to a historical 
 parallel, when Queen Elizabeth, on 
 the remonstrance of Spain, expelled 
 Flem sh exiles wh« were in revolt 
 against Spanish authority. 
 
 To rescue the ear of majesty. . It. — 
 What do politicians usually mean by 
 such phrases ? 
 
 119. German prince. —In 1776, Bri- 
 tain made treaties with the Landgrave 
 of Hesse Cassel and other German 
 princes for the hiring of troops for 
 service in America. The employment 
 of these troops— brutal as mercenaries 
 generally are— especially enraged the 
 colonists, among wtioin "Hessian 
 became a thoroughly detested name. 
 By the ' ' foreign troop " mentioned c^ 
 page 128, Chatham means these German ' 
 mercenaries, and in an omitted para- 
 graph he refers to the debasing in-' 
 fluence of these " illiberal allies ^ upon i 
 the English troops. See also page 120, 
 " Infected . . virtue." 
 
 The first three clauses of the sen- 
 tence, beginning "You may dwell," 
 should be read throughout with sus- 
 tained force. They furnish good 
 examples of the loud, or strong 
 equable concrete. The last sentence 
 of the paragraph should be read 
 in the same manner, increasing the 
 force with the repetition of " never." 
 
 121. Amer ja is in 111 humor.-— 
 The Americans were receiving assis- 
 tance in money and in men— notably 
 Lafayette- from France, but they wish- 
 ed to be recognized as an independent 
 natihn. This advantage they gained by 
 the treaty with France in 1778. 
 
 1 22. The sound parts of America -* 
 In the preceding paragraph Chatham 
 gives his views as to the relations which 
 should exist between England and her 
 
 .colonies. Many of the colonists be- 
 lieved with Chatham in "resenrln- 
 always as the sacred right of the 
 mother cou.itrv , the due constitutional 
 
 I dependency of the colonies." Thecolo- 
 inistsbegan the war "for the defence 
 of their liberties,' not for indepen- 
 dence, which indeed was not thought of 
 bytheir leaders until after the English 
 government s contemptuous rejection, 
 '" i775» of the second petition 0/ Con- 
 gress. Even after the commencement 
 of hostilities, Jefferson stated that the 
 possibility of separation "was con* 
 templated with affliction by all. ' 
 
 123. The extraordinary prepara- 
 tions . . danger.— The hostility 
 of Chatham to France w.^.s well 
 fotuided in this instance at any rate, 
 for the alliance between France and 
 ihe United States was joined in 1779 
 by Spain, as a result cf the family com- 
 pact formed between the Bouibon 
 courts of France and Spain ; and in 
 «««. the" Armed Neutrality, 'a union 
 ■few**.,.. "^igland, was formed by 
 
 Russia, Denmark, and Sweden. Hol- 
 land also in the same year joined the 
 number ot Britain's enemies. 
 
 The river Of Lisbon . . enemies.— 
 The vivor Tagus near its mouth is 
 known aLso by the name of the river of 
 Lisboii(rz'd deLisboa ). Previousto 1778, 
 the most friendly relations had existr I 
 between Britiun and Portugal. In tha* 
 year PortugaJ joined the Bourbon com- 
 pact. 
 
 With the forehead . . hope.— 
 Each feature is supposed to be the 
 index of some trait of character, the 
 forehead being indicative of modesty or 
 its opposite. Our vulgar or slang use 
 of "cheek" would fairly givo Chat- 
 ham's meaning here. 
 
 126. Caprico— punctilio.— Name 
 epithets usually employed to mark the 
 Ftenchand Spanish characters. 
 
 This speech is generally considered 
 Lord Chatham's greatest effort. The 
 Duke of Grafton said, " In this debate 
 he exceeded all that I ever admired in 
 his_speaking." It did not produce the 
 dcc'r.d fcfent, however, for the amend- 
 ment was rejected by a vote of 97 to 24. 
 
 XXn. FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD." 
 
 Di. Primrose, the vicar of the story, is supposed, like the preacher of the De- 
 >*md Village, to be a portrait of Goldsmiths father, with some added touches 
 
482 
 
 THE IlhUi SCHOOL READER. 
 
 W 
 
 from his brother Henry's character. His family consists of his wife Delx)rah, proud 
 of her skill in housekeeping and eager to appear genteel ; his son George, whose 
 mistake in going to Holland to teach English without knowing a word of Dutch, 
 is probably a recollection of the author s own early adventures ; his lovely 
 daughters, Olivia and Sophia, who share their mother's vanities ; his son Moses, 
 who resembles the father in his simplicity and pedantry ; and two younger lads. 
 This selection abounds in fine instances of Goldsmith's humor and originality. 
 The i*>rtrayal of the characters is extremely felicitous, and the incidents are re. 
 lated with striking simplicity and naturalness. 
 
 127. Mr. Burchell.— An upright, hon- 1 
 orable gentleman who had won the ) 
 gratitude of the family by saving Sophia 
 from drowning, but having caused of- 
 fence by givmg disagreeable advice, he 
 absented himself for a time. 
 
 Our landlord.— Mr. Thomhill, a 
 worthless young rake, the very opposite 
 of Mr. Burchell. 
 
 Piquet. — A game of cards played be- 
 twcen two persons, with thirty-two 
 cards, the ace of spades {as de pique) 
 being the highest card, 
 
 128. Ate short and crisp.— See H. 
 S. Grammar, Xiil. 1^7. 
 
 Well knit.— Strong, full-flavored. 
 
 Bxtreii. "ily of a size.— " Extremely" 
 is used in the sense of exactly. 
 
 Impenetrable. — The affirmative, 
 penetrable, is rare. Wha*. is the sub- 
 stitute for it in this sentence? 
 
 128. Limner. — An old name for an 
 artist, especially a portrait-painter. 
 
 And I said much.— Observe how 
 naturally and with what fine effect this 
 phrase and the phrase, "What could I 
 do? ' are introduced to give us an in- 
 sight into the relations that existed be- 
 tween the simple-minded vicar and his 
 vain wife and daughters. 
 
 129. No variety . . world,— It 
 cannot be denied that the vicar's family 
 picture possessed variety ; but what 
 about the composition or harmonious 
 grouping of the figures." 
 
 Independent . . flgnres. — Note 
 the incongruities both in the costumes 
 and in the unique grouping of the char 
 acters. The fancy gaiety, and humor 
 of the aulher come out most strongly 
 here. The whole account of the family 
 picture is in Ooldsmith s finest vein. 
 
 Stomacher. — Part of a lady's dress 
 forming an ornamental covering for the 
 breast. Neither this nor the diamond 
 would suit the character of Venus. i 
 
 Whistoniaa controversy. — Mr. 
 
 Whiston, an English clergyman who 
 succeeded Sir Isaac Newton as profes- 
 sor of mathematics at Cambrige, held 
 the opinion that it was unlawful for a 
 clergyman of the Church of England to 
 marry again, after the death of his first 
 wife. " .Vly books" were the vicar's 
 sermons in defence of this opinion— a 
 strange gift to Venus, the heather jfod- 
 dess of love and marriage. Just a.s ab- 
 surd is Olivia's posing as an Amazon in 
 a gold-laced green riding habit. 
 
 Assiduity — expedition. — Distin- 
 guish, and give synonyms. The short- 
 ness of time required to complete the 
 painting is perhaps one of the most re- 
 fined humorous touches in the narra- 
 tive. 
 
 130. Occurred — fix.— The use of 
 these words is worthy of notice. Our 
 use of "fix" in the sense of make 
 ready, put in order, is an Americanism. 
 
 A reel in a bottle. — An ingenious 
 toy. The word "reel," applied to a 
 roller for holding thread, is becoming 
 obsolete in Canada, ' ' spool " taking its 
 place. 
 
 But scandal . . opposition.— 
 Note the ])cculiar use of " improves." 
 The conduct of the Vicar's neighbors 
 shows a trait of human nature common 
 in all ages, and well described in the 
 following translation of a passage from 
 the ninth Satire of Juvenal : — 
 " And there's a lust in man no charm 
 
 can tame 
 Of loudly publishing our neighbor's 
 
 shame ; 
 On eagle's wings immortal scandals fly. 
 While virtuous actions are but born and 
 
 die." 
 
 We once aerain . . . approve. 
 
 — The Vicar s scniples must yield to the 
 ambition and vanity of his wife and 
 daughter. This scheme of terrifying a 
 
 i i t i i i ppBimin pB 
 
MEETING OI> JOHmoN WlTlI WILK'ES. 483 
 
 suitor wiih a rival appears to iiave been 
 a common one in Addison s time. See 
 the letter on " iihoeing- horns " in No. 
 536 of the Spectator. What word should 
 "then" modifV ? Should tjiere be a 
 comma after " prevent it " ? 
 
 131. Warm fortunee. — "Warm " 
 means sufficient to produce ease and 
 comfort, moderately rich. Cf, "warm 
 man," p. 132. 
 
 Madam . . . provide.— Note the 
 
 correct use of " should " and " would " 
 in this paragraph. 
 
 The Vicar's wife, in her conversation 
 with Thornton, is not artful onough to 
 conceal her design or "to discover the 
 honor of his addresses," and sh« is too 
 smiple-minded. and too anxious for her 
 daughter's welfare to detect any insin- 
 cerity in the fulsome language and 
 stagey manner of the profligate. 
 
 XXTTT. MEETING OF JOHNSON WITH WILKES. 
 
 James Boswell, eldest son of the Laird of Auchinleck, was born at Edinburgh, 
 and educated for the bar. He was a thorough hero-worshipper, and nothing so 
 delighted him as to make the acquaintance of men who had become celebrated 
 or notoriou.s. He became acquainted with Johnson in 1763, and though twice 
 rebuffed by him at their first meeting, and many times afterwards, he neverthe- 
 less became the devoted follower and admirer of the great literary dictator, to 
 the intense disgust of the old laird, his father, who thought that Jamie, was 
 " gaen clean gyte (crazy), in pinning himself to the tail of an auld dominie. " His 
 worship of Johnson, and of eminent men generally, made him the laughing- 
 stock of his associates ; but " he had the faculty of sticking." as Goldsmith said, 
 and for twenty years he stuck to Johnson, took note of his appearance, hi.s 
 habits, his words, his actions, and, indeed, of the minutest details of his daily 
 life ; and he gave the result of his observations to the world in the most charm- 
 ing biography that has ever been written. 
 
 For different estimates of Roswell's intellectual capacity, see Macaulay's criti- 
 cal review of " Croker's edition of Boswell's Life of Johnson, and Leslie Stephen's 
 Samuel Johnson in the " English Men of Letters " series. 
 
 133. Para magma fai.— These lines 
 from Virgil's Alneid, 11. 6, may bj 
 translated, "I played an important 
 
 part. 
 
 Two men more diflferent.— Wilkes 
 was a Whig, an infidel, and a " pa- 
 triot"; Johnson was a High-church 
 Tory, and detested " patriots." 
 
 I have ever delighted . . person. 
 —Perhaps this analytical bent of Bos- 
 well's mind may account for his habit ' 
 of thrusting himself upon celebrated 
 men. 
 
 Blr^John Pringple. — An eminent 
 ijcoteh physician, in 177a, he was elect- 
 ed president of the Royal Society, of 
 which Boswell was corresponding secre- 
 tary. 
 
 134. Sir JoBboa Reynolds. — The 
 
 great painter, and the founder of the 
 famous Literary Club to which Johnson, 
 (joldsmith, Burke, and othe: distin- 
 guished literary men belonged. 
 
 135. Jack Ketch. — In England, a 
 name given to a hangman ; so called 
 from John Ketch, a noted executioner 
 who lived in the seventeenth century. It 
 was he who beheaded Monmouth. 
 
 136. Buffeting his books. — John- 
 .son's library, in the garret of his house 
 in Fleet Street, was "a large and mis- 
 cellaneous collection of books, falling to 
 pieces, and covered with dust. 
 
 Mrs. Wiiiiams.— Johnson's kind- 
 ness of heart led him to open his hotise 
 as a!n asylum to several poor people ; 
 one of these was a blind old lady named 
 Williams, whom he installed at the head 
 
4«4 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 of the establishment. Another member 
 of liis housi'huld \tas I'rank Harber, a 
 negro, whom Johnson had sent to 
 school and afterwards retained in his 
 service ; but what services PYank rend- 
 ered to Johnson has not been ascer- 
 tained, for his master's clothes were 
 usually as dusty as his books, and his 
 wig was "as mi penetrable by a comb 
 as a quickset hedge. " 
 
 137. Gretna Green.— Springfield, or 
 Gretna Green, a vilhige in Dumfries- 
 shire, near the English border, was 
 noted for the marriages of runaway 
 luiglish couples which were contracted 
 there. 
 
 BIr. Arthur Lee.— A member of a 
 distinguished Virginian family, to which 
 Robert E. Lee, the well-known Confed- 
 erate general, also belonged. He was 
 at this t iie(i776)inEiij;land, advocat- 
 ing the rights of the colonies, and act- 
 ing as agent for several of them. In 
 1777, he was one of Franklin's col- 
 leagues in I'Vance. See note on " pleni- 
 potentiaries," p. 480. He was a fine- 
 scholar, and his ability as a writer has 
 won for him the name of " The Ameri- 
 can Junius." 
 
 138. Burly virtue. — From John- 
 son's London, 1. 143, " Can surly virtue 
 hojie to fix a friend?" The om tted 
 portion at the beginning of this para- 
 grai)h gives the names of Mr. Dilly's 
 guests. 
 
 Foote. — Samuel Foote, actor and 
 drama 10 author, called "the English 
 Aristoph\nes." He and D IGarrick, 
 the aotor, and Fitzherbeii, a literary 
 man of the jjeriod, belonged to the 'it- 
 erary coterie of which Jiihnson was the 
 oracle. Lord Chesterfield's name in 
 
 connection with that of Johnson will al- 
 ways bring to mind the latter's well- 
 known sarcastic letter to his Lordship, 
 which Carlyle calls " the far-famed 
 blast of doom proclaiming that jxitron- 
 age should be no more." 
 
 139. Merry-andrew. — \ buffoon ; 
 so named from Andrew Horde, a phy- 
 sician to Henry VI II., who attracted 
 attention and gained patients by face- 
 tious speeches to the multitude. 
 
 140. The boldest . . Dunsinane.— 
 See Macbeth, v. 5. 
 
 Milton's remark. — From L Allegro, 
 1. 36, The struggle of the Swiss against 
 the Austrians in the 14th century, and 
 in later times, that of the Montenegrins 
 against the Turks, are illustrations of 
 the truth of Milton s remark. Cannot 
 the same thing be said of the Highland- 
 ers ? Can their loyalty and devotion to 
 their chiefs be properly called ' ' clan- 
 nish slavery " ? 
 
 Off . . Aylesbury.— An adapta- 
 tion of CoUey Cibber's line, " Off with 
 his head ! so much for Buckingham ! " 
 which is altered ixom Richard III., hi. 
 
 4- 75- 
 
 141. When I claimed . . fugae. 
 
 — Boswell airs his legal knowledge at a 
 very inopportune time, but such stupid, 
 ill-timed interruptions were character- 
 istic of the man. 
 
 142. Corps diplomatique. -- The 
 diplomatic body, that is, the whola body 
 of foreign ministers and other repre- 
 sentatives to any court or government. 
 
 Is there anything forced or unnatural 
 noticeable in the meeting of Johnson 
 and Wilkes, which would show that the 
 two men were not so entirely at their 
 case as Boswell supposed them to be? 
 
 XXIV. THE POLICY OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 This selection, vvhich contains the oj^ening paragraphs of Gibbon's history, 
 furnishes a good example of dignified and stately English, abounding in 
 words of classical origin. Gibbon s sentences are models of condensation 
 owing to his romarknhlc skill in the use of epithets ; and ns a further result of 
 their abundant employment, his sentencr'S are less complex in structure. He 
 always makes his meaning clear, but lack of variety in the structure of his sen- 
 
 HMP 
 
ON THE ATTACK UPON HJS PENSION. 485 
 
 tences, and the frequent recurrence of antitheses and elegantly rounded periods, 
 render his style tomewhat monotonous and tiresome. 
 
 142. Ancient renown . . valor. — 
 
 The frequent use of the at)stract for the 
 concrete noim is chaiacteristic of Gib- 
 bon's style. I'oint out examples. 
 
 143. Enjoyed - i bused — Expand 
 the sentence to bring out the full 
 nuaning expressed in these twov/ords. 
 
 LxecutlTe powers.— Distinguished 
 from legislative and from jinUcial 
 po\\ers. 
 
 Seven first centuries.— The period 
 from the found ijig of the city B.C. 753. 
 I'or the order of words, see //. .S'. 
 Citatnmar, XV'III. 19. 
 
 Kemotewars. — Note that "remote" 
 is emphatic , ftnd that tlie tmth of the 
 three statements that follow depends 
 upon fhe remoteness of the wars. 
 
 Arrows of the Parthians. The 
 aTlusion in "arrows" is to the Par- 
 thian mode of warfare. They fought 
 on horseuack, their chief weapon being 
 the bow and arrow. After the first 
 discharge, they turned flieir horses as 
 if in full flighti wnile fitting a second 
 arrow to the string. This was then 
 discharged backwards, And so they 
 continued the fight until they exhausted 
 their arrows or gained the victory. 
 Hence, the expression "Parthian ar- 
 row" is used figuratively for a parting 
 shot at an opponent. 
 
 Defeat of Crassus.— This event 
 took place B.C. 53, Crassus formed 
 with Caesar and Pompey the first 
 Triumvirate, B.C. 60, and was made 
 governor of Syria. Horace, in Ode 
 III. 5, eulogizes Augustus for wresting 
 the standards from the Parthians. 
 
 144. Signal act of despair.— The 
 Germans rose in revolt under their 
 
 great national hero, .Arminius (Latin 
 for Hermann), and defeated and des- 
 troyed the Roman legions commanded 
 by Varus, A.I). 9. Why is this revolt 
 called an ' ' act of despair ' ' ? 
 145. No less fatal to himself.— 
 
 /'rt/rt/ through the jealousy of the Em- 
 perors, as intimated in the first clause 
 of the sentence. For example, Cier- 
 manicuswas recalled from (iermany by 
 Tiberius and Agricolafrom Britain by 
 Domitian. See p. 146. What irregu- 
 larity in the second clause? 
 
 After a war . . yoke.— The 
 Emperors referred to in this sentence 
 are Claudius, Nero, and Domitian. 
 
 Without conduct. — " Conduct " 
 means here good generalship. Trace 
 the connection with the usual meaning. 
 Wild inconstancy.— What added 
 ideain "wild"? Has "while" its usual 
 meaning in the clause that follows ? 
 
 felt . . inspired.— On account 
 of Domitian's atrocious cruelties, a 
 conspiracy was formed against him, 
 and he began to feel the same insecu- 
 rity of life which he had made others 
 feel. 
 
 146. ^''avigation. — The reference is 
 to the west coast of Britain. 
 
 Had observed— is divided.— On 
 what ground can the sequence of 
 tenses be justified ? 
 
 The native Caledonians . , valor.—- 
 Compare Johnson's reference to the 
 Highlanders, p. 140, and see note 
 thereon. 
 
 Compare Gibbon's style with that of 
 Hume (Selection xix), and note that 
 the former habitually uses the period, 
 and the latter, the loose sentence. 
 
 XXV. ON THE ATTACK UPON HIS PENSION. • 
 
 In 1794, Burke retired from Parliament, a-^ > 'se king was about to raise him 
 to the peerage, with the title of Lord Beacnnsfieki, v.hen t!ie sudden death of 
 his only son, "the heaviest of all calamities," made him inJiflferent to the 
 honor. He was induced, however, to accept a jiension, and this led to the Duke 
 of Bedford's ungenerous attack, and to Burke's letter in reply, which is one of the 
 
486 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 ' the most 
 
 finest efforts of his genius, and is claimed by John Morley to be 
 splendid repartee in the English language." 
 
 He lies . . rood.— See Paradise 
 Lost, I. iq6. 
 
 'A \ 
 
 147. Mortuary pension.— By the 
 use of the word "mortuary," Hurke 
 intimates that the pension was a debt 
 due him for his public services. A 
 mortuary is a payment niaile to the 
 mmister of a parish on the death of a 
 parishioner, and seems to have been 
 originally intended to make amends for 
 any failure in the payment of tithes, 
 on the part of deceased. 
 
 Both descripUons.— The ministers 
 and the "revolutionists," or sympa- 
 thizers with the French Revolution, 
 which Burke strenuously opp()>,ed. 
 
 In this paragraph, calm statement, 
 keen sarcasm, and touching pathos, 
 are admirably blended. 
 
 148. Nitorlnadversum.— I strive 
 against opposition. This phrase is the 
 key note of th'j paragraph. This 
 paragraph enumerates some of the ob- 
 stacles that oppose the progress of a 
 man who must depend upon his own 
 merits and exertions for the honors 
 which he gains. 
 
 The Duke's . . . hounds.— The total 
 amount of Burke's pensions was 
 £3,700, and they were granted with- 
 out the consent of parliament, much to 
 his chagrin. But the amount of the 
 pensions and the irregular way in 
 which they were granted were only the 
 ostensible reasons for the attack; the 
 real motive of his assailants was to 
 find grounds of complaint against the 
 government, of which Pitt was the 
 leader- -a mode of attack not uncom- 
 mon in our day. 
 
 149. Homer nods.— A translation of 
 Horace's " donnitat Homerus " {Epis- 
 tola ad Pisones, 359). The expres- 
 sion is used of anyone who makes 
 mistakes in a subject with which he is 
 supposed to be familiar. 
 
 Golden dreams.- An allusion to the 
 Duke's wealth. Burke's contention is 
 that the reasoning of the Duke was cor- 
 rect, but that his premises were wrong 
 
 The Stuff . . made.— See Shakes- 
 peare s Te?npest, iv. t. 
 
 Creatures of the crown. The act 
 
 of making a man a peer is called a 
 creation. Show how the word "crea- 
 ture " comes to have the contemptuous 
 forge which Burke gives tQ it, 
 
 Spiracles. —Blow-holes of cetaceans 
 This enumeration of particulars is in- 
 tended to show how completely tht« 
 Duke was a crtuilure of the crown. 
 The Duke's advaiua,^'cs as set forth in 
 this paragraph may be compared with 
 what Burke .says of himself and his 
 meagn^e opportunities, p. 148. 
 
 Torrent — spray. — There is pe- 
 culiar foi-:e in the use of these two 
 words ; the torrent which was aimed at 
 Burke proved lobe directed against the 
 Duke's ancestors, and only the spray 
 fell on Burke. Give Burke's meaning 
 in ordinary language. 
 
 150. Gross adulation — uncivil 
 Irony.— Show that the publie merits of 
 the Duke are further belittled by the 
 addition of the latter expression. 
 
 Inexhaustible fund. — A continu- 
 ation of the thougl.t in " derivative"— 
 as if merit, like an estate, could be 
 handed down to posterif v . He asserts 
 that the Duke has no uiLrit but what 
 was derived from the original grantee, 
 and then proceeds to attack the merit 
 of the latter. The Russell family, of 
 which the Duke of Bedford is the head, 
 has produced several men of distinction', 
 the most notable being Admiral Ed- 
 mund Russell, who defeated the French 
 at La Hogue in 1692, Lord William 
 Russell, who was executed for his share 
 in the Rye House plot, and Lord John 
 Russell, the proposer and champion of 
 the Reform bill of 1832. 
 
 Exceptiona.— Aptto take exceptions 
 — now obsolete. 
 That the word . . taken.— As 
 
 to the merit of the person whom the 
 sovereign is pleased to honor. Would 
 it imply a censure upon the sovereign 
 to question the fitness of such a person ? 
 For the construction see note on " but 
 since '' "and that,'' p. 451. 
 
 Some resemblance . , relations. 
 —Burke is scarcelyjust to the first peer 
 of the name, who has the reputation of 
 luring one of the most accomplished 
 gentlemen of his time. Compare 
 Portia's reasoning in the Merchant of 
 Venice, in. 4. 
 
 151. CouflsoaUon qf . , aohiUty, 
 
TIVO EIGHTEENTH CENTUR Y SCENES. 487 
 
 — Is metonymy employed here? For 
 the " iniquitously legal' means em- 
 ployed by Henry VIII. to strengthen 
 his own power and to reward his favor- 
 ites at the expense of the old nobility 
 and the church, see the chapters on Wol - 
 sey and Ihomas Cromwell, in Green's 
 History of the English People. 
 
 The lion . . waiting— The jackal 
 feeds on carrion, and even the graves in 
 the East must be protected against 
 these animals. The comparison re- 
 ceives additional point from the use 
 Burke makes of the popular but erron- 
 eous notion, that the jackal hunts up 
 the prey for the lion and has to content 
 himself with the remains of the lion's 
 feast. 
 
 Confiscating . . demagogues. 
 —Such as Henry VIII., Warren Hast- 
 ings, and the leaders of the French 
 Revol«tion respectively, 
 
 152. Municipal country.— "Muni- 
 cipal " seems to be used here in contrast 
 with "comprehensive," and to mark 
 the semi-independent relation in which 
 Ireland then stood to England. Burke 
 in this paragraph refers especially to his 
 efforts to secure religious equality for 
 Ireland, protection for the people of 
 India, and political rights for the colon- 
 ists in America. 
 
 His merit . . rebellion.— Prob- 
 ably, the rebellion of 1536, called the 
 " Pilgrimage of Grace." Bedford pro- 
 fited by the confiscations that followed 
 this rebellion, but the charge is hardly 
 more than a repetition of a previous 
 charge, that he (vas an advisor of a 
 tyrant, and it is introduced by Burke 
 for the purpose of contrasting his own 
 merit as a preventer of rebellion. Burke 
 believed that the English sympathizers 
 
 with the French Revolution were ready 
 for rebellion, and would, if they dared, 
 follow the example of the French in es- 
 tablishing the worst of all tyrannies, 
 the tyranny of a mob. See his " Re- 
 flections on the French Rex'olution." 
 
 153. Boulogne.— This fortress was 
 captured by the English in 1544, and 
 restored to France in 1550, on payment 
 of 400,000 crowns. E.xplain the refer- 
 ence to Calais. 
 
 154. Curses . , deep.— See A/ar- 
 beth, V. 3. Why are the curses not 
 loudf Green, writing of this period, 
 says that "instead of looking on Parlia- 
 ment as a danger, the monarchy now 
 felt itself strong enough to use it as a 
 tool." 
 
 I labored . . thanks. — Burke, 
 along with Fox, Sheridan, Windham, 
 and Cirey, the other managers or " as- 
 sistants " in the impeachment of Hast- 
 ings, was voted the thanks of the House 
 of Commons. 
 
 Observe the following characteristics 
 of Burke's style, and point out ex- 
 amples of each :— His diction is copious 
 without being verbose. He presents 
 thoughts in different forms, as if one 
 set of words could not completely re- 
 present the idea he wishes to express ; 
 hence, he delights in pairs of epithets, 
 which are not, however, mere syno- 
 nyms. His sentences are ©ften abrupt 
 in movement, especially in his anima- 
 ted passages. He is fond of antitheses, 
 and is profuse in the use of figurative 
 language. He is a master of irony and 
 bitter invective. He posse'^ses great 
 feitility and aptness of illustration, 
 drawn from the resources of his well- 
 stored mind. 
 
 XXVI. TWO eigiitp:p:nth century scenes. 
 
 " Cowper's letters have the true epistolary charm. They are conversation, 
 perfectly artless, and at the same time autobiography, perfectly genuine. 
 They are the vehicles of the writer's thoughts and feelings, and the mirror of his 
 VS&^—Guldwin Smith. Southey called him " the best letter- writer in the En^- 
 lish language." Rev. John Newton, to whom the two letters selected are ad- 
 dressed, was curate of Olney when Cowperand Mrs. Unwin went to reside there, 
 in 1767. Newton's life had been one of strange vicissitudes— a saiior in early 
 
488 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 lite, an ill-used servant of a slave-dealer in Sierra Leone, a slave-dealer himself 
 the captain of a slave-ship, and finally, an evangelical preacher whose devotion 
 and zeal liad attracted the poet and his friend to Olney. In 1779, Newton left 
 Olney for London, and thenceforth, for twenty years, he was one of Cowper's 
 correspondents. Tii.> poets last preserved letter, dated April nth, 1799. was 
 written to Newton. 
 
 155. Men of Gotham. — Would-be 
 
 wise men, fools who think themselves 
 w'ise ; here, the nuifjistrates of Olney. 
 CJotliam is a parisli in Nottinghamshire, 
 Enghiiul, wii,j.-,e inhabitants were noted 
 for their siujjidity. Many stories are 
 told of the foolish conduct of the men 
 of CJotli.im, to justify tlie meaning given 
 to the expression, ^\'.lsllington Irving 
 in Salma!^ll)ldiR\^^^\wA the name to the 
 city of New York, because its inhabi- 
 tants were such wiseacres. 
 
 Our conflagration. — Several fncs, 
 supposed to be tlie work of incendiaric.;, 
 had hap|>encd at Olney and other j)laces 
 in the neighborhood. 
 
 156. CapiUary club.— The queue of 
 the constable's wig. 
 
 An extraordinary gazette. — A 
 special issue of the official organ of tlie 
 government. 
 
 Orchard Side.— The poet's home at 
 Olney. " a dismal, prison-like, tumble- 
 down house." 
 
 ■ 157- Two ladles.— Mrs. Unwin and 
 Lady Austen. 
 
 A mob appeared.— Olney had a re- 
 putation for rowdyism, and Cowper's 
 house was in the worst part of the town. 
 Mr. OrenvlUe.— William Grenville 
 (1759-1834) was a cousin of the younger 
 Pitt. Wlien Pitt became Prime Min- 
 ister in 1783, Grenville was appointed 
 by him paymaster-general of ihe army. 
 At the time referred to by Cowper, 
 Grenville was probably canvassiug his 
 constituents in preparation for the gen- 
 
 eral election of 1784. He became Lord 
 Grenville in 1790, and succeeded Pitt 
 as Prime Minister in i3o6. 
 
 Pubs. — A tame hare, one of Cowper's 
 numerous pets. 
 
 158. The dispute . . ; Commons. 
 
 — "At one time Cowper was inclined 
 to regard the government of George 
 III. as a repetition of that of Charles I.. 
 absolutist in the State and reactionary 
 in the Church ; but the progress of re- 
 volutionary opinionsevidently increased 
 his loyalty, as it did that of many other 
 Whigs, to the good Tory king."— 6Wf/- 
 win Smith. It might be said of the 
 ministry of Lord North, and of one or 
 two of the short-lived ministries which 
 immediately preceded that of Pitt, that 
 they were on the side of the Crown, but 
 it could not be said in the same sense of 
 Pitt's ministry. Cowper, who was not 
 conversant with public affairs, no doubt 
 looked upon all governments as sup- 
 porters of the king's personal views, 
 and moreover, Pitt's ministry was only 
 in its infancy. 
 
 Cowper had probably too low an 
 opinion of his influence at Olney. There 
 were no gentry there, and he seems to 
 have taken the squire's place, being 
 commonly known as "Sir Cowix;r." 
 He makes a humorous reference to this 
 in a couplet quoted in one of his let- 
 ters : — 
 " One parson, one poet, one bellman, 
 
 one crier. 
 And the poor poet is the only squire.' 
 
 XXVII. FROM 
 
 159. Choked with gall. - 
 
 is used metaphorically for passioi, 
 hatred. There seems to be a sort of cli- 
 max ir, "tifled," '■ quatrdicd," "chok- 
 ed with gall. " We still say, " to choke 
 with passion." 
 aroBveuor Square.— A fashionable 
 
 "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL." 
 
 "Gall" 
 
 quarter in London. Note the unusual 
 meaning of "doubt" four lines below, 
 suspect, am inclined to think. 
 
 160. The man . . husband. — 
 Joseph Surface, the hynocrite of the 
 play. 
 
 160, Pantheon.— Sir Peter probably 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 489 
 
 means the church of Stc. GcneviJ-ve in 
 '•aris also called tlK! " I'anilieon " after 
 the ce:. • .ad church of tiiat natne in 
 Rome, which was once a heathen teni- 
 nie 'consecrated to allthi'^ods ( pan, all, 
 a..Jt 'tieos, a god). The I'anthcon at 
 Par;., vii^^ one time the burial place of 
 dis/nguisHt-: i-renchnien, the West- 
 iiiiiiHur Ahheyof Paris. Afetecham- 
 pih-e, or rural festival, is a festival or 
 entertainment held in the open air. 
 
 161. Oons. — In the comedies of the 
 Restoration period we meet with the 
 word " lJclsw(jons," which appears to 
 be a fuller form of both "Oons" and 
 "ZouiuU," all being corruptions of 
 " (j(j(i"s wounds." 'J'here seems to be 
 at all times a disinclination to use God's 
 name in the jjrofanity of " ])olite" so- 
 ciety, and therefore, various corrup- 
 tions have been deviled which are none 
 the less violations of the third command- 
 ment. 
 
 Tambour. A circular frame for 
 working embroidery on ; also, the em- 
 broidery worked upon it. 
 
 163. Rid on a hurdle. The hurdle 
 was a sort of sle.lge on which criminals 
 were dnuva to execution. Death was 
 the penalty for the crimes to which Sir 
 I 'iter compares the offences of the scan- 
 dal mongers, namely, making -jid cir- 
 culating counterfeit nioncv, and clip- 
 ping the current coin of the realm. 
 
 166. Poor'B-box.-Now used with- 
 out inflection — poor-box. 
 
 168. A La CJUnolse.— Chinese-like. 
 Spa. -.\ fashionable watering-place 
 
 in Helgium. y'<//'/t' rt"^(5/(' is a common 
 name on the Continent for the public 
 dming-table of a hotel. 
 
 To Join Issue. - I'roperly, to be at 
 variance. Crubtree u^es the term in- 
 correctly. 
 
 169. Law merchant.— A system of 
 rules by which trade and commerce are 
 ri'gulated, and which Sir Peter would 
 api ly to slander. 
 
 Write an essay to prove the truth of 
 .Sir Peter's remark that true wit is allied 
 to good nature. 
 
 XXVIII. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 This poem was written in 1785, and according to the statement of the poet's 
 brother, Gilbert, we are indebted for it to the deep impression made upon the 
 author's mind by the phrase, "Let us worship God," used by the head of a 
 family introducing family worship. This brother also states that the " cotter'' 
 was an exact copy of his father, " in his manners, his fanuly devotions, and ex- 
 hortations." Robert Aiken, a solicitor of Ayr, to whom the poem is dedicated, 
 was one of the poet's early friends and patrons. 
 
 The more homely passages of the poem are written in the poet s native Ayr- 
 shire dialect. For the more elevated passages he employs English, as he does 
 in most of his serious poems, probably because he thought the collocjuial forms 
 of speech were not sufficiently digniiicd for his higher themes. 
 
 " C cer" was the name given to a sub-tenant who rented a cottage and an acre 
 or two of laud from the small farmers. The term was afterwards applied to the 
 small farmers themselves, to which class Burns's father belonged. 
 
 171. To mercenary . . pays.— 1 field, p. 484. 
 
 An allusion to the cncj common prac- ThoJOWly train . . scene. For 
 
 tice of dedicating a book to some man lines similar to this and the eighteenth 
 
 of wealth or rank for the sake of secur- line, "And weary . . bend," see 
 
 ing his patronage, and thus ensuring a Gray's Jilegy. " Train "was a favorite 
 
 more ready sale of the work. .See the word with the poets of the last century, 
 
 reference to Johnson's letter to Chester- Show ttiat tl;o root-meaning, draw or 
 
490 
 
 THE man SCHOOL reader. 
 
 drat;, is found in the difiercnt uses cf 
 " train. " 
 
 Moll.— The verb " moil," from which 
 the noun is formed, meant (i) to mois- 
 ten or wet. (2) to stain with moisture, 
 to .soil, (3) to become .soiled or dirtv 
 with toil, (4) to toil. The word is now 
 generally userl in connection with 
 "toil," the two words illustralinp the 
 tendency to couple together words of 
 similar sounds and meanings. Compare 
 " carking cares." See Earle's Philolo^v, 
 sec. 628. '^- 
 
 Professor John Wilson says of this 
 stanza that it is "in it.self a picture, 
 one may say a poem, of the poor man's 
 life.' 
 
 Todtdlln.— Not formed by dropping 
 the i' of "toddimg," but by dropping 
 the d of the old participle ending. See 
 //. .S'. ilrammar, VIII. 42. 
 
 172. Weeblt.— The Lowland Scotch 
 i.s especially rich in diminutives. See 
 Earle's Philolos;y, sec. 377 ; also sec. 
 171, for the pronunciation of " toil " in 
 this stanza. 
 
 173. Kye. — Cows. "Kine" is a 
 double plural. See //. S. Grammar 
 V. 38, b. 
 
 174. How f was . . bell.— A na- 
 tural touch, exemplifying well the rural 
 mode of reckoning time. The cheese 
 was a year old at the last flax-blossom- 
 mg. 
 
 Ha'— Bible.— A large edition of the 
 Bible, such as lay in the hall or princi- 
 pal 1 00m of hou.ses. 
 
 In Simple gulae.—" Guise "has re- 
 ference to the plain psalm tunes " Dun- 
 dee," etc., in contrast with the " Italian 
 trills" which Hums condemns for pur- 
 po.ses of worship. But is it true of the 
 latter that " nac unison hae they with 
 our Creator's praise " ? 
 
 175- Other holy seers. — Name 
 them, and explain all the allusions in 
 this and the following stannas. 
 
 Springs . . wing. — This quo- 
 tation is from Pope's Wimisor Forest, 
 " Ami mounts exulting on triumphant 
 wings. " 
 
 176. 'Whllo circling . . sphere. 
 — 'W'hat is the object of the cumulation 
 m "circling,'' "round," "sphere^" 
 Note the harmony of the line. 
 
 Compared wiih this.— Note care- 
 fully the contrast made in this stanza 
 Heart— desert,— The (r in ' ■ desert " 
 
 was probably pronounced like ar. n.s in 
 the present pronunciation of ierjeant. 
 See Earle's l'hiU>loi;v, sec. 1O9. 
 
 Youngling.— Compare the force of 
 the diminutive lin^' in this word with its 
 force in " lordling." 
 
 Princes . . God.— See Goldsmith's 
 Deurted I'lllai^e, I. 53, and Pope's 
 I'Asay on Man, iv. 247 ; and refer to 
 <)ther poems of Imins that contain .sen- 
 timents similar to those in this and the 
 following stanzas. 
 
 Account for t!ie changes in diction 
 that occur tiiroughout the poem. 
 
 Describe the metre Spenserian 
 
 stanza -and name other poems written 
 in the same metre. 
 
 " It is easy to see in this piece the in- 
 fluence of Cray, of Goldsmith, and of 
 Pope, but easier still to observe the 
 freshness and originality of it." Illus- 
 trate this statement by reference to the 
 poem. 
 
 Higher compliment was perhaps 
 never paiil to this poem than that which 
 It received from a boy whom Nicol, the 
 companion of Burns in his Highland 
 tour, asked which of Hurns's poems he 
 liked best. The boy replied, "1 like 
 best The Cotter s Saturday A'ii^/it, al- 
 though it made mc ^^reet {cry) when my 
 father had me read it to my mother." 
 
 Lady Nairne's poem, T/ie Land o' 
 the Leal, has been sometimes attributed 
 to Burns through the blunder of chang- 
 ing " John " to " Jean. " Of this blunder 
 the authoress says, in a letter written 
 late in life: — "I was present when it 
 was asserted that Burns composed this 
 song on his death-bed, and that he had 
 it ' Jean ' (his wife's name) instead of 
 ' John ' ; but the parties could not de- 
 cide why it never appeared in his 
 works, as his last song should have 
 done. I never answered. " It was writ- 
 ten in 1798, and was occasioned by the 
 grief of a friend over the d-;ith of her 
 little daughter. Lady Kairne also 
 wrote The Laird o' Coclcpen, Caller 
 Herrin,ax\i\ many other familiar Scotch 
 songs. Her 1 1 'hu'/l be ftim^ but Char- 
 Ite ? and other Jacol.ntcsong^ have pro- 
 cured for her the name of the poet-lau- 
 reate of the Stuart cause. 
 
 " Leal " means faithful, true ; hence 
 the expression " the land pf the leal" 
 
!" 
 
 THE TRIAL liV COMBAT 
 
 491 
 
 means the home of tlu; faithful, that is, I roo«1 examples for the imic 
 Heaven. This selection will furnish | /r^wor in rcadimr 
 
 tice of thu 
 
 XXX. THE TRIM- \\\ COMBAT. 
 
 The Idea of The Talisman as a name for till* novel was taken, as .Scott tells 
 us, from a curious coin i:,serferl in a stone which was brought home as a charm 
 from a suhs,,,„ent crusade l.y one of the I.ockharts of Lee- the family to 
 which his son-in-law lx.-lonKed -and known as the Lee penny. 
 
 Why called 
 
 179' Judicial Combat 
 
 judicial f 
 
 Diamond of the Desert.— A foun- 
 tain encircled by palm-trees, abiiut 
 midway between the Christian and 
 Saracen camps. 
 
 Knight of the Leopard.— Prince 
 David was so called because his device 
 was acouchant lcf)pard. 
 
 8aladln.-Sala(lin, the royal leader 
 of the Saracens, was a gallant, liij,di- 
 minded soldier, and his humane and 
 noble nature contrasted most favorably 
 with the cruel, revengeful disposition of 
 many of the Christian knights who de- 
 spised him. 
 
 i8o. Sponaors.— Sureties, god-fa- 
 thers ; here, the seconds, who were 
 Richard and his half-brother, William 
 Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, foi 
 Kenneth, and the Archduke of Austria 
 and the Crand .Master of the 'IVmplars 
 for Conrad. Saladin acted asunioire 
 of the field. 
 
 i8i. Gl'sland'8 conjecture. — De 
 
 Vaux, Lord of Gilsland, had conjec- 
 tured that Salad in had brought 5,000 
 followers with him in.stead of 500, as 
 agreed upon, and it lotj'ccd iike an act 
 of treacliery on the part of Siiladin. 
 Edith, represented as Richard's cousin 
 is an imag.nary person, compounded 
 partly of Richard's sister, Joan, the 
 widowed Queen of Sicily, who accom- 
 panied her brother, and partly of Rich- 
 ard's niece, Eleanor, sister of the un- 
 fortunate Prince Arthur. The Tem- 
 plar had instigated the inurd' rous as- 
 sault iipon Richard which forn-,5 the 
 subject of Lesson LXXXVI in the 
 FoiRTH Reader, and of this fact 
 Conrade was cognizant. 
 • JS2, Schiraz, — A town of Southern 
 
 Persia, still famed for its wine. 
 
 Montaerrat. — Conrade was Mar- 
 quis of Moniscrrat, a little Alpine pro- 
 vince. He was made Kingof Jeru.salcm 
 by Richard, but was sliortiy afterwards 
 assassinated by fai'.alical Arabs, ncjt 
 by the (iiand Masler. Thcodorick, 
 the Hermit ol Engaddi, had once been 
 a valiant soldier, but becoming a re- 
 cjuse, he had ti.xcfl his residence among 
 the rocky caverns of Mount Carinel. 
 
 186. Spruch-aprecher. — That is, 
 saver o sayiii;;^, a name given to an 
 attendant of the .Archduke who served 
 him partly in the capacity of a minstrel 
 and partly in that of a counsellor. 
 Widder-sins or ividdei si'ins, means in 
 a wrong or contrary manner. 
 
 188. Bla title . . mountan.— 
 
 " Montserrat" means smv - toothed 
 mountain, 
 
 189. Truncheon. — Properly, a 
 headless spear. The meaning here ap- 
 pears to be that the lance was thrust 
 into the wound up to the shaft or 
 handle. 
 
 Azrael. — The angel of death in the 
 Mohammedan my tho!( >gv. 
 
 191. Blondel.— Richard's favorite 
 minstrel, Richard was imprisoned in 
 Austria when returning from the Cru- 
 sade, and it is said that Blond -I, roam- 
 ing over the land in search ot .in, dis- 
 covered the place of his captivity by 
 singing, under the windows of the 
 stronghold in which he was confined, a 
 song known only to Richard and him- 
 self^ which Richard answered from 
 
 Witiiin. 
 
 192. David, Earl of Huntingdon. 
 
 — Thi^s is the hero of the story, but the 
 real Earl, who was present in this cru- 
 
 i.adc, was thg broUiw of William the 
 
493 
 
 THE men scHooi. khade 
 
 A. 
 
 I.i^Mi. of Scotlnml, net tl.o I',,,,,-,. 
 Koy.ii H,s will" was Matilda, diuuh- 
 ter„ithe j;arl ol Clu-.t.T, and h.Us 
 n. t.d n> history ns tho j.ri,,,-,, th„.„Rh 
 \vli..r.i h..tl. Itriu-.'nn.l Halhol (l.rivr.I 
 Uinr claims to the throm- of Sioil in,| 
 BoruMla, l^itht name for I'ruhsia 
 winch in tho thirteenth ccninry wi', 
 con(|iien>rl by tlie 'IVnionic Knights 
 one of the or.lrr.. partly mililuy nnd 
 partly r.'iiKinus. to wliich the » .u.sa<U.s 
 gavehirih. Two other povv,.rfii! ordei^ 
 which originated nt nearly the same 
 time, and from the same cause, were tin- 
 Knights Icmplars uiid the KniLdits of 
 at. John. 
 
 i'».s. Nectabanui.—,A dwarf in the 
 retmne of Jk-rengaria, Richard's (jneen 
 afterwards sent as n present to Saladin.' 
 
 Accclpehoo. lake this. 
 
 i«)f). Ilderlm.-lhis is one of the 
 nanus under wiiich the disj^niised .Sala 
 dm heeame known to Kenneth on their 
 hrst meeting in tin; desert. 
 
 Hakim Adonbec— Another (hMjuis,. 
 of Saladin. It w.xs ns a llakim (nlu- 
 sician) that he viMted kielianl and 
 cured him of his fever, and in ihe same 
 disguise he pleaded with kichard for 
 
 Kenneth's life. Ry "the d.strrssc.l 
 iMhiop IS meant Kenneth himself m 
 lijs disguise as a Nuhian slave 
 
 D0«i on. Dons, wh.ch is merely 
 the contracted lorm. What is the on 
 positcterm? ' 
 
 Frainflatan. ~ The land of ih.. 
 
 Franks, by which name the Sanicii, 
 d<>signatcd all the jx-ople of Western 
 i:.uroi)e. 
 
 197. MaronlUi. -A semi - Chris- 
 tian perjpji: of .Syria. 
 
 2ot. Paynlmrle. Meathenriom. 
 I Ills is a collective term from p,i\nim 
 which <omes thnmgh the ireiich 
 f>iii,ii, from the F.,nin/,/^'rt////f, and was 
 applied, like " inlidel," to the followers 
 of Mahomet. That a ch.illenjje to 
 mortal combat, " in all love and honor " 
 should be given at sii. h a. time, is in- 
 comp.itible with niodtrn views of Hie, 
 l>nt m the days of chivalry such a i)ro- 
 cceiing was not uncommon. 
 
 The student should not fail to read 
 tlu; whole of Ihc Talisman, in order 
 t') have a clear underManding of the 
 selection. It is one of .Scott's most 
 attractive romances, and has, more- 
 over, a basis of historical truth. 
 
 XXXI. FRANCE : ANODE. 
 
 role, idg.'s republican sympathies in early lif. made him an ardent supporter 
 of the 1. rcnch Revolution, but when h • saw the revolutionary Ic.ders attacking the 
 ancien Republic of Switzerland, his feelings toward. lYance underw .nt a change 
 which f;,nnd expivs. ,n in this magnificent ode. First, the poet calls up.a M 
 nature, which itself is free, to be.nr witness to his deep love of liberty. He then 
 tells of the delight with which he h died the French Revolution, as the harbing • 
 of freedom to the enslaved states of Europe, and of his confidence in, and con- 
 tinued sympathy with, the principles of the Revolution, even when atheism -wvl 
 blasphemy were rampant in France. But the attack upon a free people dispels 
 his dream of the sublime mission of lYance. and proves to him that " the spirit 
 of divinest Liberty-' cannot e.xist among a people ^vho are still slaves of 
 their own dark and sen^ :,al passion.s. Disappointed, the poet turns to Vature 
 
 and finds among the eum-.-nts that liberty which he had sought in vain amonc 
 men. '^ 
 
 205. That Uatea. . vmi,<.-- The ! ^«.r will d.ey wre-ithe the -aW --nt- 
 wocHls are represented .. t.^iuj- a( rest j music. " Reclined"" is probol^ sSg^ 
 
 Lh """"^ K*'"'r"l!-'' •■"^" "'^'>^-U'^-^t«»hy the appearance of trSrow- 
 birds, save when of their own imper- \ ing on a steep ilope. How jTJhe dI^^ 
 
i'h'AXCK: AN OJ)/:. 
 
 493 
 
 in "iin|>crious" elsewhcriM'xpresscd ? 
 
 B«l0T«d Of God.— In<(i)iri(l. 
 
 Beyond. . ^oUy.— Thr " hoary- 
 hc.uU'd swai.i " iti (iiay's /■l''i;v 
 tliought th;. port n. fool or li Miadrnan, 
 and thiTo may he an alliisicn licrcr to 
 the .sanuM»|)ini')n. If so, tin; meaning 
 Would he, bi-yond the point whi-n? a 
 poet would \u'. fonNidiri'd a fool a 
 ir.onMliaii ordinan inspiration. Sliakc- 
 •|M>au, in A Midsumiinr Aii;hf't 
 Ihfiim, pii'stlippool and the lunatic 
 in tilt! saini' i-.itegory. 
 
 Tbatoath. . fireo. If there Is any 
 
 C articular reference Iktc, it iii pmha- 
 ly to the oath sworn by the National 
 Assenihly, June aoth, I789; but the 
 whole passage seems to be merely a 
 forcible way of expressing the deter- 
 mination of a. people to be free. 
 
 ao6. With wliat a Joy. . Banff. — 
 
 In the (h/e to the Departim; Year, 
 A'eliirioiif A/H(i»^'s, etc., nnil in a 
 short lived periodical called '/7if 
 Wftit/ipnan, and other prose writings, 
 
 Llka nends. . day.— A striking 
 simile. Note the contrast between 
 I'Vance, tht; disentfuynted nation, and 
 the nations forming the coalition 
 against her, which are compared to 
 fiends called up and set in battle 
 array by a wizard's enchantnunt. 
 
 Ban? defeat.— See .Ou'<f to the De- 
 par/imr Yt-ur. 
 
 Shame — retreat. — Objicts of 
 
 "sang." Kftreitt w.is vain, because the 
 victorious French armies followed their 
 enemies. 
 
 Blasphemy's . , scream. -An allu- 
 sion to the worship of the goddess ol 
 Reason, which was substituted for the 
 Christian religion in 1793. To what 
 is the Heign of Terror compared ? 
 
 The dlBBonanceceas'd.— When the 
 Reign of Terror came to an end, and 
 the Directory was estftblisheu, in 179^. 
 
 When France. . gore.- The Roy 
 alist rebellion in \a Vendee was su[)- 
 pressed in 1793, the coalition was 
 dissolved by the end of 1794, all its 
 members having made p- ace with 
 France, except England and Austria. 
 Napoleon suppressed an insurret-tion 
 of the Paris mob in 1795, become mas- 
 ter of Italy in 1796, and brought Austria 
 to terms in the following year. 
 
 207. To scatter rage. . gfuilt.— 
 By intriguing and fomenting dissen- 
 
 to tempt 
 
 ni'^'ii in Switzerland, (.'f. 
 aiii to Ix'tray,'' below. 
 
 Patrlotraoe. ( ompai^ r.oWi- 
 smith's Irat'fllft, II. 1758. Show the 
 appropriateness of the epithets, " jeal 
 ous, " " inexpialile, " " bloodless. " 
 " pernicious," " murderous." 
 
 Champion. . kind. Ihe National 
 Tonvention in 171^3 passed a decree 
 ileclaring its readiness to 'grant fra- 
 ternity and assistance to all people 
 who wish to recover their liberty." 
 
 The sensual. . chain, roiitical 
 
 emancipation only vill not ensure Irui- 
 lilM'rty ; "he is the freeman whom 
 the truth makes free, and all are .slaves 
 In-side." 
 
 ao8. But thoil. . power. Liberty 
 has no nllinity with coiujuest and is 
 not to \h- found in human institutions. 
 Show that th<- expression " obscener 
 slaves" continues the thought in 
 " harpy minions. ' 
 
 ICxamine the poem aiid ])oint out 
 lines in which the pnivailing poetic 
 quality exemplifies one of the following 
 ch iracteristics of poetry: -(i) I'oetic 
 words or expressions, (2) melody, (3) 
 pictures()Ueiiess, (.}) |)oetry of thought 
 or sentiment. Thus, in the last stan/a, 
 11. 11-12, we have an example of (i), 
 and in the next ', ne we have an ex- 
 ample of (4), and of (2) as well. The 
 renjaining lines have the third quality, 
 but they possess also the (jther <juali- 
 I es, as (i| in '• Sea-cliH's v.rge," and 
 "scarce traveli'd . . above,' (2) in 
 " I lad made, . surge," and (4) in "And 
 shot., air." In the jjoetical analysis 
 of any poem it will be found that the 
 elements which constitute its j)fH'try 
 in..y be cla; .sed in these four divisions. 
 Deficiency in any ine of these elements 
 should be com])ensated by greater ex- 
 ctiUence in thi; rest. 
 
 'I his poem was jailed the Ricanta- 
 tioH on its first appearance. Kj'fer to 
 passages which justify this title. On 
 what grounds may it be called an 
 ode to Liberty ? 
 
 The central thought in Complaint 
 and Reproof is contained in the line, 
 "Greatness. . ends," which means 
 that greatness and goodness should be 
 sought for themselves, not from any 
 ulterior motive. 
 
494 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 XXXV. THE ISLES OF (iREECE. 
 
 The zeal with which Hyron devoted 1. .useh" to the einaiicipatioi of Greece 
 from her Turkish masters, forms omc of the few bright sjjcjls in liis brief, turbu- 
 Ifiu can.'er. In several of his poems there occur passionate outbursts of 
 sympatliy with tiie ojipresscd (irecks. Thi , beautiful patriotic lyric, from the 
 third canto of Don yuan, helped to arouse tiie interest of the poet's fellow- 
 countrymen in the struggle of the Greeks for independence. The S(jng is put 
 in the mouth of a wandering (ireek minstrel who " would, or could, or should 
 have sung it " at the marriage festivities of Juan and Haidee. 
 
 211. The isles . . set.— Tt would be 
 
 well to liavo the student name and de- 
 scribe liie various pictures presented in 
 succession throughout the poem. This 
 stanza presents a bright picture of the 
 beautiful isles of Greece, once the land 
 
 of sr)ng and romance, and the home of 
 Wiirriors, statesmen, ])oets, artists; but 
 their former glory has departed, and 
 only tiieir natural beauty remains. 
 Sappho was a lyric poetess' of Lesbos, 
 in the seventh century, B.C.; her .songs 
 were principally amatory, hence the 
 epitiiet "burning.' The volcanic ori- 
 gin of the i.sland of Delos is supposed 
 to have originated the fable that it rosC 
 from the sea at a stroke from Ne]5- 
 tune's trident, and remained a floating 
 island until Jupiter moored it fast to 
 the bottom, to be the birth-place of 
 Apollo (Phoebus) and Diana, the sun- 
 god and moon-god respectively of 
 Grecian mytiiology. Note tire con- 
 trast in the last two lines. 
 
 •ilie Sclan . . Blest.— Anacreon of 
 Teos, a writer of love and drinking 
 songs, lived in the si.vth century, H. ' '. 
 Moore has bi:en styled the Anacreon of 
 English verse, partly because of the 
 character of his jioetry, and j-artly be- 
 cau.se he translated Anacreon's odes, 
 Chios (Scio) was one of the many 
 places that claimed to be Homer's 
 birthplace. Show the appropfiateness 
 cflhe allusions in " The hero's . . lute.' 
 The "Islands of the Blest," ox Fortii- 
 nafae lnsiilat\\\cvv. fabled to contain the 
 Elysian fields, which were the abode of 
 the righteous after death. They were 
 thought to lie at ihe extremity of the 
 earth, somewhere outside the Strait of 
 Gibraltar, and in later times it became 
 customary to identify them witii the 
 groups of islands lying north-west of 
 
 show the fallen state of Greece? 
 The mountains . . slave.— Give a 
 
 reason for the statement in the two 
 last lines. Does the expression " Per- 
 sians' grave " necessarily imply that 
 the Persians were buried there ? 
 
 A king . . they. — ".Sea-born," ap- 
 plied to an island, is an ornamental 
 ei)itlu.t. C^iuid " by thousands " and 
 "in nations'' be interchanged? What 
 is gained by the interrogative form in 
 the last line ? 
 
 212. And where. . mina.— Com- 
 pare Moore's expression of a similar 
 sentiment in " Dear harp . . mine, '' p. 
 
 2l6. 
 
 'Tis something. . tear.— How does 
 
 the poet show the degradation of the 
 Greeks in this stan/.a. especially in the 
 lines " To feel. . face"? Account for 
 the contrast in tlie last line, and note 
 also the strong contrast ia the he.nt 
 stanza. 
 
 What . . dumb.— The recollection 
 of the brave deeds of the dead would 
 serve as an inspiration when the liv- 
 ing should prove themselv.s capable 
 of leadership. The bard's call to the 
 dead heroes ot Thermojiylae is a most 
 elocjuent reproach to the living cowards 
 of his own day. 
 
 In vail . . Bacchanal.— A i?rt<rr/7rt«rt/ 
 is a worshipper of Bacchus, a wine- 
 drinker. Note the sarcasm in this 
 stanza, and especially in the combina- 
 tion "bold Bacchanal." The poet 
 thought that carousing was more a- 
 greeable to the (Greeks than fighting, 
 
 213. You have. . slave. —The 
 Pyrrhic danrc, so-called from its in- 
 ventor, Pyrrhiehn.s, was originally a 
 war-dance performed with nimble, 
 dodging movements of the body, not 
 unlike the movements of the Indian 
 
 Africa. How does Byron in this stanza I war-dances. The Pyrrhic phalanx 
 
THE CLOUD 
 
 495 
 
 Was a military formation made up of 
 foot-soldiers closely massed, with their 
 shields overlapping one another, and 
 their spears projecting. Hy means of 
 this formation, I'yrrhus, kingof Epirus, 
 gained his victories over the Romans; 
 hence the epi et " Pyrrhic." Cadmus, 
 a mythical pei mage of Phoenician or 
 Egyptian origin, was reputed to have 
 introduced into Greece the original 
 sixteen letters of the (ireek alphaliet. 
 What is the nature of the minstrel's 
 reproaches in this stanza? 
 
 nil high. . countrymen.— Poly- 
 crates, tyrant of Samos, was a patron 
 of literary men, and particularly of 
 Anacreon, who lived many years at 
 his court. A tyrant was originally a 
 usurper, an absolute lord, and r.;:my 
 (ireek tyrants were humane, l)eneficent 
 rulers. Show how the word naturally 
 comes to h.i ve its present meaning, and 
 note a similar change in^" ilespot," 
 which originally meant matter. 
 
 Fill high. . own. — l>arga is an Ad- 
 riatic seaport on the coast of All.'ania, 
 in Turkey, and Suli is a town an(l 
 mountainous district farther south. 
 Hoth are included in that part of the 
 pashalik of Janina, to which the Greeks 
 now lay claim. In the struggle against 
 the Turks, Su/i's rock produced one 
 heroic loader, Marco Bozzaris, " the 
 Leonidas of Modern (ireece." He was 
 killed in a victorious night-attack 
 ujion the Turks while marching to 
 relieve Missolonghi, not long before 
 Byron arrived thefc. His death forms 
 
 the subject of a spirited poem by 
 P'itz-Greene Halleck, an American 
 poet. The Dorians were the most 
 warlike people of Ancient (Jreece. 
 By the Heracleidan blood is meant the 
 descendents of Hercules, who became 
 the rulers of the Dorian states of the 
 Peloponnesus. 
 
 Trust not . broad. — " Frank " was 
 a general name for the people of west- 
 ern Europe, but Byron probably ri'fers 
 to the French, whose king at that time 
 was Louis XVHI. There is no par- 
 ticular historical incident to justify 
 Byron's charge unless he has reference 
 to the friendly relations which some 
 ten years before existed betwec • Na- 
 poleon Itonaparte and Ali Pasua, a 
 treacherous satrap of Albania. Yet 
 Cirecce owes her independent e to the 
 interference of England, France, and 
 Russia in her behalf. What is implied 
 in the epithet "broad "? E.xpress in 
 prose diction the meaning of the last 
 line. 
 
 214. Place me. . wine.— Sunium 
 was the ancient name of Cape Colonna, 
 which receives its modern name from 
 the marble columns that still remain 
 of the splendid temple of Athena 
 (Minerva) which once crowned the 
 height. 
 
 The notion that swans sing at the 
 approach of death i'. probably nothing 
 more than a poetic, 1 1 lancy. It is a 
 favorite tradition of the poets, and 
 has been developed fully and beauti- 
 fully by Tennyson in his Dying Swati. 
 
 XLT. THE CLOUD. 
 
 In the preface to her husband's poetical works, Mrs. Shelley remarks that "the 
 odes To the Skylark and J'he C loud in the opinion of many critics, bear a purer 
 poetical stamp than any other of his productions. " They are both examples of what 
 is sometimes called ///;■<' or absolute poetry, " in which the overflowing emotion 
 or passion f)f the poet finds utterance in the most charming rhythmical lan- 
 guage. " Such a poem is a simple lyric, a product of pure emotion, wrought into 
 a variety of beautiful forms by a highly artistic fancy. This emotion may be 
 the result of close, sympathetic intercourse with nature, as in The Cloud ; or it 
 irtay be produced by religion, love, patriotism, grief, as in Dryden's Veni Crea- 
 tor Spirit us, Lovelace's To Lucasfa, Byron's Isles 0/ Greece, Tennyson's Break, 
 Break, Break, respectively. In general, more or less of reHection is mingled 
 
49^ 
 
 THE UhUf SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Willi tl„-p.H-(io fivlin,j; tlu-iv isMioiv iclleolion, for.-vamplf, in /■/;.• .-dylark 
 tli;u» in Till' ( 'ioaJ. 
 
 r/„- ( hud i),..ss.vss,-s til.- lolticst poi-lic- (|,ulili<-s in tlir ln,i;li.'st .Icmv,- N.-. 
 h.m- ,n,u-l, tl.nv is in th.- p,„.n, ..C (!„• ini;.,i;in;U v.- .pulitv, tl,.- pun- p.„.t,v nf 
 s.-ntinu-nt, uhid, cannot pussihly Ik- oxpiussci i.. pros.- without nnul, jo.s a:,d 
 •ii'Minntion of nu-anin- 'IIr. fx.ilH>rana> „f tlii, qnalitv in Sl..>l!.>vs vrs,: has 
 pnn iiicd for hinj Iho iiamo of " tin- poets' poet." 
 
 n..?v\ ^ *'f^'^p.-*^"'^d«r— ^1"-1''7 1 '■ l.ik.. Mrips. . hiKh.-an.l in th.- .l.-s- 
 
 ia> have ha.l mninid the opnii.ui .•iipti,.n of llu- appcarana- pro.lu.-.-.l 
 
 Nlich Lspfol.al.ly c-orn-rt. that tlu-n- l.y th,, ,hin. (l.-.-.'v d.Mi.l s.n.l.iin.' 
 
 IS n.o,v .l.-v.lopnu-nt an.l K>"wlh of a.n.ss th.- skv. Who has n..t m-.-m 
 
 plant lift- at ni,i;jit than durin.i; th.-.lav ; 
 h.-n.'(-, tht- l.-av.'s sic.-p at n.).)n and tlic 
 Imiis ;m.; wakt-n.-.l in th.-.-v.-iiint; iiy tin- 
 d.'W. 
 
 I Sift. . ralna. -it would sc.ni natu- 
 ral to n-i)ivs.>nt lhi;cIoudasaw;vLt- and 
 ailivi- in tlK- stoi-ni. What su,ui;i-sts 
 the 0|)posilo idi-a? It is nion- coinnion 
 to say by fits than tit fits. Siicll.-y 
 makes iisi- of th.- aiu-icnt notion that 
 t-ai-h natural ohjt-ct th.- seas, tlu- lakos, 
 till- mountains, cti-. -has its iioiim; or 
 fjuardian divinity. Th.- (U-nii attract- 
 in); tin- li.i;htninf,r, an.l thus niovinj,'- 
 tin- cl.)ud at will, calls to min.l tlu- 
 spirit "that mail.- the ship t.) i,'o," in 
 Col.-ri.lLj.-'s Atuiiiit Mari>i,r {\\\x\. v.) 
 Not.- th.- poetic way of expn-ssinij thi- 
 thouj^ht that rain accompanies lij,dit- 
 ninj;. This passag.- is extreiuelv im- 
 iiLjinative. 
 
 2JO. The sanguine. . dove.— Xoio 
 
 tlicuseof "sani;iiiue'"in its lit. -lal sens.-. 
 Stu.lvcar.-fully tho lii,L;lily poetical .le- 
 scription of sunrise, ai)parently after :v 
 st.)iin, as indicated hy the ViUk or 
 l)ioki-|-\ cl.iu.'s drift iny; across tlu; sky ; 
 nn.l contrast it with tlu; descriinion'of 
 the oalin, quietsuus.-t, with which com- 
 pare Wilbon's b.-aiitiftil ji.n'm, Tlw 
 E:',/iing Cl.'iid (Lesson Xi. in the 
 Foi'Krii Ri:.\i)i-.K), Note how w. II 
 the lanjrua,q;e in both descripti.ms har- 
 nioni/t-s with the thonLjht. Dhserve, 
 too, the similes: tlu; sunrise is com- 
 pared to a restless cai^le ali^htini; for 
 a momt-nt on a mountain era i;; the 
 sunset, to a hr.iodinn dove (|uietlv fold- 
 ing her wings to r.-st. 
 That orbed. . these, -Why is the 
 
 niooii renivsentt-d ;!S :-. ;,■,•.?/,/,•;/ ^ His- 
 
 tingnish between " peep " and "peer." 
 Note how woiulerfullv po.-tie tht- 
 thoughtsare in " the beat . . lioar," 
 
 th.- stars 
 the fifih 
 ri'.-l and 
 
 thniugh rifts in the clouds ' 
 whirl and 11.-.- " i* Why, in 
 slan/a, are the stars .said to 
 swim"? 
 
 aar. Iblnd.. below, the hurnint^' 
 !.'//<• (girdl.-) an.l the ,i,'//-.//c of pearl 
 are tin; hal.)s which an; s.-.-n around 
 thi- si';i and moon r.-sp.-ctiv.-ly bel.ir.; 
 a storm. Not.- thecomparis.m of tlu; 
 clou. I to a viilorious general in " my 
 banner imfml," " tri iinphal arch," 
 
 l'ow(-rs. . chaini-d to my chair," or 
 chariot; and .'xplain all the compari- 
 sons. 'III.; tw.) last lines describe the 
 formati.)n of the rainbow. 
 
 I am the daughter. . again. Tlu; 
 
 first four liiu-s give a poetical d<;.scrip- 
 it.>n of tlu; ori-in of eloiuls. Sei; how 
 Hryant in I'o the Kiritim^ U'iihl cx- 
 l)resses tlu; sanu- thought that wt- have 
 hen; in the f.)urth line. A ii)i,>t,i;>h is 
 a tomb t-n-cted ti> one who is duooq 
 clst-when'. 'I'he d.-ar skv, or lf/i,n 
 ./.'/;//• of h.-av(-n, is a sign thin the cloud 
 is buried out of sight ; hence it is fan 
 cifully call.-d tlu; cloiuTs c-nomph:. 
 The cloud is said to unbuild tlu> c<-iu»- 
 tapli by re-appi-aring aiul ob.scuriuf; 
 the skv. 
 
 Obs.-rve how the coiup.u ison of the 
 vari.)us fi.-lds of litcnilure to r<\ilMs, 
 stii/iw, etc., is carried through Ke .fa 
 first sonnet (St-I.-ction xi.ii ). ' Exp in 
 the allusion to Apollo, the g.ic v)f 
 niiisic. 
 
 Of Chapman's translation of Homer, 
 which Keats a.hnired so highlv, Mat- 
 thew Arnold wnite : " I couf.-ssthat I 
 can never n-ad twenty lines of Chap- 
 man s version without recurri.ig .,., 
 li.-ntley's crv, 'This is not Homer.'" 
 
 " In the fust eight liiu-s of the son- 
 lU't the subject is introduced and ex- 
 
pitll(l(-<l 
 
 Ol 
 
 497 
 
 "-t nlat. t., uno nun. uLa "" ffi^ slvu;:!', v/'T""^ ^"""I"' ''''"' "' ^'^ 
 
 ""W I MIUIKI (NiioctlOll XI, III . 
 
 Xr.IV.TMK l>OWKR ANr. l.AN(i|.;R „„■ •,„,.; ,.,,.sak,S 
 
 .n!:';:;';;;;:i;::,,:,;;r:;';,::, ■;::: -T't^' - "; ■ <-' «■ ^ 
 
 "•■«-"■ '■ '•> -i»,„„„ , ,„ ::,;:"",:;;r"' ;' "■:"""■■' 
 
 »•;•-;" •■-'I"- T follows „„ i ,,:. ;,r ':;'■''■;■:;■■' "■';■.•'■'■ 
 
 wind, i, ,„„ii„„,,| f|,r„,i,,|, ,1.,. ,,,i„, „„ , , ' " '""• l'"l "' <>"■ Mil>ji-<l, 
 i».n..os>,,ril<i.,„ „;, /,;' ■"•"•^' '•■""""■l"^lll"».ra.io„. shows 
 
 '■■-■' -;" '•""'•'■ -'"•"""- -";:;.::r:;'::;::; '■"'■ « 
 
 w Ih us four ,l,v,s„.„s ; ,|,c. ill„s,r,„i„„ ,„i„l„ f„,„, ,„o p;,„,„,anl„ „„. ! 
 
 I of U,,l,,,„ ,<,.f.:r,.„,,. ; ,„s c„„„„ ,s „, ,„„,„,, ,|„,^ „„„ ,^,,^ 
 
 ih V n ,""""■"' "'" '""""''"•' *«"'«l-ri»li.s of l),.0„i„„.y', s,v|,. 
 
 I .•f,rai)n, and tin; cdrct l)r()<l.u-«(i thcr.;by ; (.,) M,.l,„iv -" 11,. ^. ,.„ . 
 greatest masters of stately eaa.-nee, as .JL u/Lib.i.ne com, ''i,::"' '" ""^ 
 
 XLV. UNTH0U(;HTI<ULNI-:SS 
 
 iZ.^U ^^^ •^■'<'">t'>-sev,l popular works of ..„.....„„.,„ ^n~.t\y mn 
 r„ ^ , o;:"7 ^ -> ""'--Uhy stimulus ,„ore,y. an,, not .s .u.uns nv t 
 
 md n. '• > ■ ^'^ "^''^ '""^ ^''^■^' ""^ '"''"' '^ '"•"'^-^te for serious study 
 
 and retiecfon. wui,..ut which there- ean be no n-al spiritual life ^ 
 
 227. For thfl numhAi< ^■I'.ia 
 
 ,, . . , . .o».s.- arnsc . . (crni.'-fortlu-sakrof ex- 
 
 aclni-ss ; also (he Kradalica of«M)ithels 
 producMiH- a cllnKiv. 
 
 22M, But tho oppos te . . Ood 
 —I'aul wrote: " l|jc wisdom of this 
 
 V\ itli till- description of the tw .j classes 
 of F'eople referred to her.-, compare 
 MatUiew Amolfl's description, pp. 403- 
 4- Note the repetition of " common 
 
498 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 world is foolishness with God,'' and 
 ci-rtaiiily if Ood docs not nwd man's 
 wisdom, nmcii less does He need man's 
 ignoranco. Nt)ti; the clearness of rea- 
 soning in this i)ara{,raph, and indeed, 
 tlironghoiil the selection. 
 
 230. There is another case . . 
 duty. — Note how well this part of Ar- 
 nold's address illustrates what Dean 
 Stanley says of his old master's system 
 of management (Selection LXXII., 
 second jiaragraph). . 
 
 233. That like other lawful plea- 
 sures . . Sin.--Wc have here an- 
 other phase of the thought contained 
 in Dr. Arnold's statement quoted by 
 Dean Stanley (p. 351): "The victory 
 of fallen man lies not in innocence but 
 
 in tried virtue." The true principle of 
 abstinence as a duty to oneself is here 
 stated. Paul, in I Corinthians, viii. 
 13, lays flow n the additional and higher 
 law of our duty to our neighbor in this 
 respect. These two prineijiles constitute 
 a suflicient guide for our conduct with 
 respect to indulgence in anything which 
 is not in itself sinful, and they should 
 be a sufficient restraint. 
 
 The teacher should make use of this 
 selection to instruct his pupils as to the 
 proper place works c<" amusement 
 should have in a course of re.iding, 
 and to warn them against light, trashy, 
 sensational literature— a warning that 
 is nmch more needful at the present 
 day than it was in Arnold's time. 
 
 XLVI. THE BRIDGE OE SIGHS. 
 
 The " Bridge of Sighs " is a name popularly given to a covered passage in 
 Venice which connects the palace of the Doge with the state ])rison. It is so 
 called because condenmed prisoners passed over it from the judgment-hall to the 
 place of execution, Byron begins the fourth Canto of Childe Harold with an 
 allusion to this bridge : 
 
 " I stood in \'enice on the Bridge of Sighs ; 
 A palace and a prison on each hand. " 
 
 Hood is supposed to apply the name to Waterloo Bridge, London, where it is 
 thought he witnessed the i -undent which forms the subject of the pcKMu. 
 
 In A Parental Ode, the author is supposed to be writing an ode on childhood, 
 and to ha\e set his child before him to give him inspiration ; but the real child 
 proves to be a very different creature from the ideal child of the ode. 
 
 It was said of Hood that " he touched alike the springs of laughter and the 
 sources of tears," and these two poems well illustrate the two most striking 
 cjualities of his poetry, humor and pathos. 
 
 LI. HO RATI US. 
 
 According to the legendary history of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus, the last 
 king, was expelled, B.C. 509, on account of his despotism and the wickedness of 
 his sons ; and a republic was formed under two rulers, called consuls, to be elect- 
 ed annuallx . Being of Etruscan descent, Tarquinius tied to his friends in lilru- 
 ria, and two unsuccessful attempts were made to reinstate him. In his third 
 attempt he was aided by Porsena, king of the powerful Etruscan city of Clusium, 
 
THE RA VEN. 
 
 499 
 
 247. Lars. — An Etruscan titio of 
 honor ; often rendered " Lord.' 
 
 Nine gOdfl.— The hi<,'li("r dciiirs, to 
 whom the Etruscans attriliuted the 
 power of hurling the thunderbolt. 
 
 248. Massilia'atirlremes.— Massilia 
 was the ancient name of Marseilles. 
 lyir hair was a characteristic of the 
 Celtic race. 
 
 249. Nurscla.— An Etruscan divin- 
 ity. 
 
 Observe how Macaulay, by means of 
 some descriptive epithet, or by connect- 
 in,^ some local circumstance or incident 
 with each name, succ(!eds in imparting 
 interest to his enumeration of the Etrus- 
 can cities that sent troops to the aid of 
 Tarcjuin. 
 
 Banlsbed Roman.— Many Romans 
 accompanied Tarquin into e.xile. 
 
 Mamlllus.— Princeof Tusculum, and 
 son-in-law of Tarquin. 
 
 YeUow Tiber. —The Tiber is gener- 
 ally j^//f/7« with soil washed down from 
 the mountains. 
 
 Rock Tarpelan.— A name given to 
 one side of the Capitoline Hill over 
 which criminals were thrown. It was 
 the burial place of Tarpeia, who in the 
 early history of Rome betrayed to the 
 Sabines tiie citadel, of which her father 
 was the commander. 
 The fathers.- The senators. ' 
 250. 
 sec. 256 
 
 Twelve fair cities. —The cities of the 
 Etruscan league, several of which have 
 been named in the poem. 
 
 Lucumo.— An Etruscan lord of lower 
 grade than a I.ars. 
 
 251. Sextus.— ^k)n of Tarquin. His 
 villany was the immediate cause of the 
 expulsion of his family. Note the vivid 
 picture of the greeting he received. 
 
 The holy maidens.— The vestal vir- 
 gins, or priestesses of Vesta, who kept 
 the fire burning continually on the altar 
 of Vesta. 
 
 A Ramnlanproud.- The Ramnians 
 were the old families, the original Ro- 
 
 I wis. — See Earle's Philology, 
 
 man settlers. The Titles, the tribe to 
 which Herminius belonged, were of 
 Siibine origin, a later addition, and it 
 has been conjectured that Horatius lie- 
 longed to the third jialrieian clan, the 
 Luceres, w ho were said to be ol Etrus- 
 can origin. 
 
 252. For Romans . . old. The 
 
 supposed Roman author of the ballad 
 IS pictured by Macaulay a.s " an honest 
 citizen, sick of the disputes of factions, 
 and much given to pining after good 
 old times which had never really exist- 
 ed. ■' The Tribunes were Roman magis- 
 trates elected annually to jjrotect the 
 interests of the common people. 
 
 Meanwhile . . three -Note the 
 Imitative Harmony, u.sed to represent 
 vast size, and slow, measured motion. 
 
 Jlva'smlnes.- llva was the ancient 
 name of Eli)?^. 
 
 253. Nequinum. — Called Narnia, 
 after its contpiest by the Romans. It 
 was on the river Nar, a tributary of the 
 Til)er. 
 
 254. The she-wolfs litter. - The 
 Roman people. The allusion is to the 
 well-known story of Romulus and Re- 
 nms being suckled by a she -wolf. 
 
 AU£^rs. — A class of priests wht) pre- 
 dicted future events by observing nat- 
 ural phenomena, the acticjns of ani- 
 mals, etc. Great variety of expression 
 is required in reading the passage, 
 ' ' But hark . . cheer. '' 
 
 256. Father Tiber. -The river-god 
 
 of the Tiber was said to have been a 
 former king of Alba who was drowned 
 in its waters. Note how the author 
 brings out the contrast lietwet-n the 
 brave I'oisena and' the cowardly, false- 
 hearted Sextus. 
 
 This is an excellent selection for prac- 
 tice in reading. It contains a succes 
 sion of stirring pictures and incidents 
 w ith which the student by careful study 
 •should make himself thoroughly famif- 
 iar, in order to describe them with pro- 
 per expreosion. 
 
 LII. THi: RAVEN. 
 
 Many conjectures have been made respecting the origin and meaning of this 
 singularly weird poem; but in ^\\^%s-^\y ^n\:\X\^<\'"nie Philosophy of Compou- 
 
Soo 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 tion, the author professes to give an account „f the n.o.lc of its construciion 
 I he " lost Lenore " has been frc(iuently thought to mean I'oo's wife, pr bablv 
 owing to the common .lesire to associate all such ell.isions with the authors' own 
 experiences ; hut if the description in the essay is to he taken seriously The 
 A'arrn ,s entirely a product of the imagination. Moreover, it was first 'pub- 
 hshed in 1845, and I'oe's wife died in 1847. 
 
 258. Once . . more.— The time.i dent's room. 
 !',"'''.":•. "y/""^" Shakespeare calls " the 260. Plutonian. -Pluto was the go I 
 
 very witching time of night," the ghost- 
 like thckenng of the dying embers, the 
 occuj)ation of the student-all tending 
 toe.xcitethe fancy of o;ie in his weak 
 and deprcssefj state of mind, so that 
 even the rustling of the curtain fills him 
 with terror ; then, too, the timid gazing 
 into the darkness, the whispering of 
 the dead loved one's name, and the 
 echo of the name murmured back from 
 the darkness,— all these form an eerie 
 beginning which prepares us for the 
 unnatural intrusion and the strange, un- 
 canny behavior of the "ghastly, grim 
 and ancient raven." 
 
 Give a reason for the poet's fi.xing 
 the time of his poem in the 6/eaA De- 
 cember. 
 
 259. Bust of Pallas. — Pallas 
 (Minerva) being the goddess of wis- 
 dom, this was a suitable bust for a stu- 
 
 of the infernal regicjiis, the realm.s'of 
 darkness. Observe how the Raven's 
 monotonous rein.'tilion of " nevermore" 
 .seems to answer the s udeiit's (|ues- 
 tioning, which increases in earnestness 
 until it leaches a cliiiia.v in the pasMoii- 
 ate appeal of the si.xteenth stan/a. 
 
 Aidenn is an Anglicized spelling of 
 the Arabic form oif the word Eden ; 
 here used for Heaven. 
 
 262. .And the Raven . . floor.— 
 
 Without requiring mathematical ex- 
 actness in a poet, one is nevertheless 
 inclined to a-k how, considering the 
 Raven's perch, the lamp-light "throws 
 his shadow on the floor " ; but the beau- 
 tiful application made in the last two 
 lines — the sad picture of a sorrow from 
 which there is no respite— more than 
 compensates for any incongruity in 
 the description. 
 
 LVII. DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR. 
 
 274. This Summer . . struggle. 
 
 In 1658, Dunkirk was handed over to 
 the Protector by the I-'rench, as the 
 price of the assistance rendered by the 
 English troops in the ca[)ture from 
 Spain of the sea-board towns of Flan- 
 ders. 
 
 iManzini and the Due (Duke) de 
 C'requi were ambassadors to the ICnt,'- 
 lish court, whose simplicity under 
 Cromwell presented a striking contrast 
 to tile splendors of the other courts of 
 Europe. 
 
 275. The Lady Claypole.— Eliza- 
 beth, the second daughter. Cromwell's 
 other daughters were Bridget, Mary, 
 and Frances whose husband Mr. R\c\\\ 
 had been dead only a few months. 
 
 Oeorga Fox.— The founder of the 
 Society of Friends, commonly called 
 Quakers. He was a shoemaker in 
 
 I early life, hence the allusions to Icathcr- 
 parings, etc. 
 
 276. Hacker's men. —Colonel Hack- 
 er was one of Cromwell's oiricers. 
 " The Mews" was the name given to 
 the court stables, which stood near 
 Charing Cross, in London. 
 
 Was thy own life . . tree.— An 
 allusion to Fox's solitary habits, one of 
 which was thatof sitting in hollow trees 
 leading his Jiible. He is said to have 
 worn a leather jacket. 
 
 Harvey.— Cromwell's Groom of the 
 Bedchamber, who has left us an ac- 
 count of Cromwell's last days. 
 
 278. Transcendent. — Note the 
 
 force of this word. 'I"he meaning ap- 
 pears to be that a strong desire for 
 Cromwell's restoration to health be- 
 came the prevailing burden of every 
 prayer, all consideration of tiie Divine 
 
EACH AND ALL. 
 
 SOI 
 
 will being disregarded. 
 
 280. Fauconberg.-Husbaiul of 
 Cromwell s daughter Mary 
 
 Their works follow . . here — 
 
 Carlyle's language is vigorous, and 
 even approaches coarseness, in his de- 
 nunciation of the Star-Chamber cniel- 
 ties and of the efforts to belittle the 
 character and work of Cromwell 
 
 281. HypocrislB.— A Latinized form 
 of a (jreek word which m-jans plaviii"- 
 a part on the stu :e. The English deri- 
 
 vativeis "hypocrisy. FwoCenturies 
 
 ot Jlypocnsts" has the same mean- 
 mg as " Two Centuries of . . Cant " 
 on page 276, where there is another 
 allusion to the restoration of Charles 1 1 
 Carlyle thinks that linglishmen have 
 degenerated since Puritan times, and 
 again descends to coarseness in 
 his comparison between the former 
 noble spirit of the people and their pre- 
 sent mercenary spirit. In " sheltering 
 Fallacy," there is an allusion to a habit 
 
 which the ostrich has when closely pur- 
 sued ; It IS said to «tick its head in a 
 bush, thinking in that way to conceal 
 Itself, ^ 
 
 ' TWs selection is fairly illustrative of 
 Carlyle s style— his use of new words 
 and new combinations, his violation of 
 the rules of grammarand composition. 
 Ills abruptness and energy of expression, 
 his striking, yet often far-fetched com- 
 parisons and allusions, his power of 
 I word-painting, the vehemence and 
 scorn of his denunciations.. 
 
 No collection of literary extracts, in 
 which Carlyle's prose is not represent- 
 ed, could make any pretence to com- 
 pleteness, yet no one should attempt 
 to mutate Carlyle's style. Much less 
 1° u u^"y°"'^ imitate his cynicism 
 which became more bitter as he grew 
 older ; in fact, he railed agairst Cant 
 and Sham until his very railing became 
 a species of cant. 
 
 LVIII. EACH AND ALL. 
 
 282 . .tie . . alone.— The main 
 thoughi of the poem finds expression in 
 the two last lines of this stanza. They 
 teach the doctrine of mutual depen- 
 dence, that " each lives for all, and all 
 live for each. " Compare the teaching 
 of Pope on page 98, " Has God . . 
 all. The clown and the heifer each 
 unconsciously adds a charm to the 
 landscape, just as the sexton uncon- 
 sciously gave delight to Napoleon, or as 
 each life may unconsciously influence 
 another life. 
 
 I thought . . none.— The beauty 
 ot the sparrow's song is enhanced by 
 the accompaniment of " river rnd sky ' 
 and the beauty of the shells by their set- 
 ting of " the sun and the sand." So 
 too, the lover's " graceful maid " look- 
 ed more beautiful among the other 
 maidens; yet in the transformation 
 trom/airy to uii/e, dues she not becom - 
 
 a more noble being, " a spirit still, and 
 I yf.l ^'t*^ something of an angel- 
 ight ? Is not the change in each of 
 these instances caused rather bveettine 
 possession of the object, than by its re- 
 moval from the other objects that are 
 usually associated with it ? 
 
 283. Then I said . . whole. - 
 1 he poet concludes that the beauty 
 which IS merely lent to things by their 
 surroundings is o.ily a sremifi^haauty 
 a cheat, and that he must look for rea'/ 
 beauty elsewhere than in nature But 
 eyea as he is speaking his eye takes in 
 all the separate parts of the landscape, 
 trom the ground-pine beneath his feet 
 to the sky above his head, and his ear 
 IS greeted by the songs of birds ; and 
 however unlovely each part may be in 
 Itself he discovers in the harmonious 
 b ending of all the parts, the perfection 
 of true beauty. 
 
502 
 
 THE men SCHOOL deader. 
 
 LX. THE DIVER. 
 
 This ballad is fouiuU-d on an iiistorical incident. It is related that al)out the 
 year 1500, Frederick, Kin^r of Naples, induced a celebrated .swimmer and diver 
 nam.-d Nicolas, to attempt the explorali ,n of the mysteries of Charyhdis a 
 whirlpool on the vvH^st side of the Strait of Messina. The historical diver'is 
 quite an onhnary character, he dives for the gokl that is offered him, and perishes 
 in the whirlpool. .S.-hJIIor, with a poet's license, inv.sts his h.-ro with poetic in- 
 terest ; he is a noble, feirless youn-s.juire of the kind's retinue, and in the second 
 IJlunge he risks his life for the king's daughter. 
 
 The spirit of the original poem is admiraljly re|)roduced in Lytton's transla- 
 tion. Note especially how vivid is the descriptioi. of tlu' vouth's thrilling ex- 
 perience, ending with the abrupt, hurrie.l allusion to the terrible devil-fish, "the 
 demon of the dee|). " 
 
 The first line on page 299, " .\nd Heaven . . space," does not giveSchil- 
 lers meanmg ; a more literal rendering of the original would be, " His .soul is 
 seimlwith heavenly force." The "fond eyes" mentioned in the last stanza 
 are those of th(> royal maiden who is .specifically referred to in the original, 
 ".She bends over with loving look. " 
 
 LXVTT. THE H.^NCIING OF THE CRANE. 
 
 The title of this poem is suggested by the old, homely custom of celebrating 
 the home-coming of the newly-married couple, by hanging the crane in the old'^ 
 fashioned fireplace. This signific^l that the house was finished, a-.d ready for 
 the pair to begin their housekeeping in. The poem presents, in a successi'on of 
 bright pictures, the fortunes of the family from the beginning of the home to the 
 golden wedding-day. 
 
 336. TheUghtB . . long. -In a I Observe the poetic art in making the 
 few simple words, the pix-t very happily \ literal introductory to the meia|')hori- 
 
 mtrodUCeS his subject hv fnm-vinGr hiMi- f-ol Tl,,. „..„. _..f ' _ .1, . 1- „!..' r.. 
 
 introduces his subject by fancyinghini 
 self one of the merry guests ouheeven- 
 ing, whostays behind afterall the others 
 have gone ; and while gazing perhaps 
 into the flickering fire-light U])on the 
 hearth, his "shaping sjiirit of imagin- 
 
 cal. The ]iuet refers to the light of the 
 evening lam|)s for the purpose of pre- 
 senting in stronger contrast the divine 
 light of conjugal love. Note, too, the 
 way in which the poet shows the un- 
 selfishness of this love, and the perfect 
 
 ation crea es the visinns of tiie future '■ contentment of the wedded pair in each 
 hte of the happy coujile. Show that \. other's society. 
 
 " harmonious" is a suitable epithet to 
 ap|>ly both to the course of a star and 
 to a haj^pv home. 
 
 And now . . sight. — Note the 
 diffei;ent means employed by the poet, 
 ill this and the three following preludes, 
 to show the indistinctness of the pro- 
 phetic vision. 
 
 337. -The light of love 
 
 all. 
 
 He ruleth . . shine.— The idea 
 that the child is the monarch of the 
 household, ruling by divine right, may 
 have .suggested "purple," the color of 
 the royal robes of eastern monarchs. In 
 " of the morn," there may be an allu- 
 sion to eastern countries whose rulers 
 xercise power as despotic as that of the 
 
 child ; or the whol 
 
 expression, 
 
 In 
 
THE HANGING OF THE CRANE. 
 
 S03 
 
 purple . . morn," may Ih- iiurtly:i 
 vague poetical aliiisioii to childliood as 
 th(! morning of life. 
 
 Longfellow has not inappronriatcly 
 b«'en call<-(l " the children's poet." Mis 
 noble, synir.ietrieal life, jjure and trans- 
 parent as that of a child, w^is shared 
 largely with his own children, and his 
 poetry contains many Ix-aiiMful refer- 
 ences to them, and to child-life in gen- 
 eral. 
 
 338. The golden silence . . Oreek. 
 
 —A (iennan i)roverl) says, "speech is 
 silver, sihrnce is gold." Among th<; 
 (ireeks, the Spartans especially culti- 
 vated a brief, sententious mode of 
 spi'ech, hence the term laconic (from 
 I.aconia, the state of which Sparta was 
 the chief town). The comparison of 
 the child to King Canute, who, in the 
 well-known story, is obliged to yield to 
 a monarch still moreabsi^hile than him- 
 self, is prettily conceiverl, and may be 
 appreciated without j)ressing too closely 
 the resemblance of the nurse to the sea, 
 " resistless, fathomless, and slow." 
 
 A Princess . . ours. Observe 
 how the sprightliness of the fairv-Iike 
 picture IS kept up in the different names 
 given to Fairy-land, all suggestive of 
 Ideal beauty; al.so in the e.\pre.ssion, 
 ''sailing . . sails," suggested i)er- 
 hajfs by thesui^posed soft, gentle move- 
 ments of fairies, or by their unsubstan- 
 tial, ethereal natures. See the de- 
 scription of Queen Mab in Romeo and 
 Jiiliel, 1. 4. 
 
 339 Above their bowls . . be 
 
 —Why ' • rims of blue f" See note on 
 light of love . . all." Observe the 
 poetical expression of the thoiiglu that 
 children live in the present, careless of 
 the future ; they do not borrow trouble 
 Note, too, how the words in the three 
 last lines harmonize with the thou>dit 
 Ariadne's crown.— in the (irecian 
 legends, Ariadne was the daughter of 
 Minos, king of Crete. After inanv ad- 
 ventures, she becime the wife of Bac- 
 chus, who, after her death, placed her 
 weddmg crown as a constellation in the 
 sky. 
 
 Maidens , . nesta. — Comp---- 
 passages in Longfellow's Maidenhood 
 and note how well the contrast i.s 
 brought out between the timid, depend- 
 ent nature of the maidens, and the 
 boldness and confidence of the youths 
 
 Knight-errantry. ~ .See i^ote on 
 Knight-, .rant," p, 468. The i)iii- 
 posesofthe.se high-minde.i youths are 
 more lofty, ,nore divine, than the aims 
 o( the knighis-eirant of the times of 
 chivalry. 'I'he passage, " that travels 
 . . eludes, ' may be taken to illus- 
 trate the day-dreams of youth, and it- 
 self hnds admirable illustration in .Sir 
 erciv'iile ,s account of his .search of the 
 
 Holy (.rail, a knight-errantry of legend- 
 ary times that might well be called 
 
 ',/'!'"'. ^?^ Teiinysons poiin. The 
 Holy (.itatl. 
 
 340. sweet Illusions . , lost 
 
 —Another harmonious dost,',' giving" 
 beautiful e.Ni>ivssion to tlu' thought that 
 
 year^ by year, and ray by ray ro- 
 mance s sunlight dies away," and life 
 oecomes a .sober reality. Jiut the heart 
 need not keep p.ace with the head. .See 
 loujoun Amour, ]x 418. Show that 
 
 Illusions' is preferable here to " de- 
 lusions. 
 
 The meadow-brook . . death. 
 
 — 1 he simile m this prelude appropri- 
 ately Illustrates the universal e.xperi.'iice 
 that, with increasing age, time seems to 
 ny more swiftly. 
 
 Cathay.- An old name, now used as 
 a poetical name, of China. This and 
 the other proper names are i)robablv 
 chosen for the sake of the melody. 
 
 341- To lift one hero into fame — 
 1 he cause of many a battle. 
 
 After a day . . night. -A beauti- 
 ful picture, true to nature, and describ- 
 ed in melodious verse. Indeed the 
 charm of the poemconsistsin iis nulody 
 and in the beauty and naturalness of its 
 pictures. 
 
 Monarch of the Moon— Sugge'^ted 
 by the comparison in stanza in, " with 
 fiice . . moon." 
 
 342. As the reflection . . seems 
 
 — 1 hese beautiful similes form a fitting 
 close to the poem. The viUa tlwt the 
 poet describes is one that must have 
 betn familiar to him on the bridges 
 leading across the Charles River and 
 especially on the long bridge that con- 
 nects Cambridge, the ijoet's home 
 with Cambridge street, in Boston 
 
 Similes are employed to illustrate by 
 means of the well-known, the visible 
 the material, that which is unknown' 
 hidden, spiritual. See if the similes iii 
 the poem conform to this law. 
 
51)4 
 
 ruE y//(,// si'Hoor. NEAi)h:h\ 
 
 I'XIX." AS SHIPS, HI':CAI.M|.;i) AT KVF • 
 
 in.o.ns, i,„„ly ..„„,„ f,,, '„,„ , " '""' "" '""""i: i'K "" "... tl,.-y ha „ 
 
 .i.i...« .1,.,. „'^„„;:,",:": t; ',,':;;;;::,;; ■:: :;■■;•■; ;; «"■ t„: ,«„, 
 
 »i.....M «..i.i,. ,iK.,n. „ii Ji i ! „ , ' ""•; '"" •""• '" '"'■ ' l'-« >l«" 
 
 '"" »,"■'■ ■ »»^ •• «.•..,.>,.-; «n ;",,';;;:,;:,•,,''';•■" "":" '« 
 
 ar.' not aloiu- sullUi.M.t ■ ilu-so „uisi il,...» i *- "' ••M'-n.-n,.- 
 
 TI'o " Duty ■• that ( •|„„«h so scrnfully oensiiros in tlu- n.-v. ,. 
 """•«■ ll.an a hluwl n.nli„„„iv to il... „.,., V ' " " """""'' 
 
 aspiratin,. „ "l, ,; ^l. I''^''^' ^"' ''""••l-"'— 'f .„anu.,n, all noM.. 
 any 0.1U..- ..shion..,:,":; :, X'^r,: 'I^T '" ■; 'r "^""" "'"" "^ 
 
 7"f '-<' '-= wi...n it is ,L.i:;j,r -t": ;;:,i ■ . ':"^".n;'7^'^". •:;, •••• 
 
 xl'a.I.- . . n.a,U.,- is i,u.-ml...l to show tint this). ''<•'"•<•. " 1 oa 
 
 "-n^'nh...,.;aj„a„on. '■ X 1 ':';:;:; '^ """""^' ""- "-"-««- 
 
 coHM -.rablc wi<ltl.. ' " '""" " ''^^^'-vani i„,.,vals of 
 
 LXXI. SONNK rs. 
 
 po.-ms, how.-viT, j>„ssoss lii^l, ,„,.|ic iii.-rii 
 
 .■^i.i..-.-«," 1. 464, T„„ ;;;L°"',.r-„K. ;„ hi" [',:;:;,';;.,;:;"■','■,■',•■'■'■■."''''■-■■■ 
 
 1'^ -• »'iii|j.iu.- nil' siiii; 
 
 ' imlsatiii); '\a\\k\ 'twinklin^r." 
 Ill an oailior form of the second son 
 
 saniethoMi^lit mi the threes-, uiets 
 I'oint out lines in each sonnet" that 
 
 ... . .. ....Hf. lorni or tne second son- Point out linrs in . , .i. , 
 
 net. "nunuToiis • had the p'are of fjest . r.r V . . , '' "^""'"'t that 
 
 '■ fn-quent • in the -<■,„! i;,v '•• "<>'gt,^'-'bt a suitable name, and uIvh 
 
 .1 i'"^'-!- Ill lilt ... I on(i iiuf. .~.'ion a name lo e-ii-h °"~ 
 
 that the latter is preferable Noie ih,> i s!. / • ._ 
 
 'liferent turn, of\.xp ■ L en 1 .v ,1' di(? ^^^'^^^^^ that exemplify the 
 
 by the poet to cdi auSion ';!;';;:! '^SZ^. ^"''"^ ^'"^^'"-^ '^'•'-' i" th. 
 
1 III'. ( I A) 1 1) ( V )x/./x/':s. 
 
 LXXIV. FROM -niK MIM. ON THK K|,()SS" 
 
 So 5 
 
 3sfi. The n«xt mornlug. i„ ii.is 
 
 Iiil.ivcr, tin- li.Toiiir (,l ||„. nov.l IS 
 nm.'y,.arsol.,«,-,aiHlli,.| ImoH,,., I,;,,; 
 ;''""" lI'iri.T,,. i„,„ |,,„| ,,.,„,„,: 
 
 |'"i. srhoul.lHMlay ImI..,. I.rj„«,„., a 
 iii'w lisliliiic lor M.ii'i'i,. " H " 
 
 i^arkly radiant. M.,,,..., ,,,,,,„ 
 
 l.-ksaiul blark <.^„s „..,.. |,.,,„„„^, 
 ^«ll )oy. Mi.;;Ki.-i.sr,.|mMni.,li,, a 
 li.v<||,.ss, |)assional.' clnM, ||,|| ,,, 
 
 "",;'"«;• ''"""■^- SI,,, i. ,,„„,l ../ |„.| 
 
 s«'ll "■lianl,|,n..tirall„<.tl,rr, ul,„|,.s,.s 
 
 "•'• vv.ll ,.„„UKl. in n-inrM.|„ii il.i.iks ,t 
 
 l"M>nMlrL.rt,.s.,.l,||M.,, a.sin.l,v.l J„. 
 "Ilrti (mils oi(a.,i(jii to ,l„ 
 
 He knew . . nfted." To,„sns- 
 M.n.|,ii,Mi <.( siipcriMiityis (|iiii,.a.siu,. 
 
 i.ral,l,.asMa.;«„.sn;„li„,.ssto Krant 
 
 II. .Noll- 111 how iiianv ways tli..s.- iliar- 
 
 .■i.trnsius of t|„, two rliildivii a..- 
 
 I)i<iurlil (lilt III tlic.si'Ii.iiion 
 
 .ISH. Happy morniniTs.' Voi,. |,„„, 
 
 """■'' 'M;i):Ki»-:ilia|.i.iii,.„i, |,o,|„,| „,, 
 
 with Tom's SI,,, iikrs (ishinj, |„.,,,„s,. 
 
 k..;:;;;=;:;;.i,:"" ''"•' •^••^ '^ i-^u 
 
 ChrlBtlaua. rh^nlhis ,,„ is to th.- 
 
 sm.M.loa,,.WHiii.va,.s/VA.v:/7/V. 
 A'".. It ,s tl„. ha 1.11 o( i.naKina.iv.. 
 ;•'''''"'•'••' «<';'SM.<,ai,. will. ,|,,.,r!^w.^^^^ 
 
 EhX;';;.:;-""^""" "'—^ 
 
 UTo did change . . known 
 
 'il'il th,.wru,.rs ic.naikahl,. |,.|„,iv ol 
 ;'"«";«'•• ''''"•y""'"^l"MH.,..xa,n.|,.s 
 
 '"'I'Kl.ts ar,. ,..x,,r,.ssn| i„ p!...,!.. ,,i, 
 '"".an,! w„h a i-m.-pt,!,,. ,„yt I, , 
 
 • sd...t.on ,ll„st,at,.s .!„. writn's 
 
 ' '"''"l^- , I" a /..w nusKTly ,on..h..s 
 
 ;'-l'la.-.l...|oi.. h..r r,.a.l,.r.,ask,.,..h 
 
 '•.■".•r.vor,.|,ara.-...r,an.|,|i..,.allow- 
 
 '"■=""; '""""•" '•<"'%<•, sli.; inoiali/,.s 
 
 h<l (l<'Siripl|0|,s Sll^^rcsl, 
 
 I'Xxv. 'riii-: CLOUD coxfinks. 
 
 IlK-nam,. ofthisponn, /V/,' r/,Wr„////«,., or Ho,,,! r ' 
 
 ■■■■■ ,";■" »■ ■'■«-' ".». .r.,„.»,, i^'Z X 7:!-::zV"'""' 
 
 .sonll.,To„„.s..nsl,nm,l,.,| wlu.ncv,.rii s,.,.K.. i . ni(|iiinin, 
 
 lc.u.sofuurpr,.s..ni,.xi.s,c.nc:.' " '" """ '-n''-..^' P-ol. 
 
 359. The day . . height - Na- 
 
 iir<: has no voK-i- to int,.,pi,.t tlio inys- 
 i.Ti,.so(|,|.., orif slu.ha.,, h.T voiV.Hs 
 '""""■"iK'l'l''l"Us. This thouoht is 
 '•M>i''>-s..,l inoiv ,1, lii,it,.|y i„ ii,^; J 
 sl.i,,za 
 
 l>loo,lsh,.,l an<l oppn-ssion pr-vail for 
 attirecan proinis,- th..,„ ntathu- aju- 
 viation norcomiKiisaiion. 
 
 What of the heart of love -This 
 stan/a is a path.-tic allusion io"il„. i,,- 
 
 3'.o. Named now . . old.-Th.. ii'm,i'n''r""'''' ''''^''^^ *^' '^'' ''""'-i'' 
 
 ;,;;;;L:"" ^ ■ '«'■• ^ '-'i"nii:^i.:;";;^t^„!;L:;-:i-,i;it: 
 
 • '^ "> < A iian.i loii ot t he ' tirii.. «.!.,.., , i ,' H"' '" '""!-> at a 
 
 "lysu.nos o( death, or any assiTrance of i '^^^^^^ l<nowl,.,|jre shall ?». „,on. 
 Mninoitality. ^ assurance of j ( , inplet,., but it ...vhihits a lack of t|,.,t 
 
 . And eyes . . fate. -Th. sufr,T- -' f" ls?,r^V''''''''l'''''''' '^^'''•'' '''''' "'^^^ 
 ingand down-trodd.-n ask in ain Thy I ' * """""^^"^ -^"i. ^j. 
 
5o6 
 
 THE it Id I SCilOOl. l^r.ADlCH. 
 
 I-XXIX. I.XXXI, Lokl) OF nURLKlCII; 15RKAK, 
 IJKKAK, 15RK,.\K ; I'lIK " Rl- \K\( ;K." 
 
 TluM- thnv |,..,.,Ms n pn Miu r,-ni>ys<.n in tlin-.M-liamrlmMic |HH<lical moods 
 
 lI'Mirst IS a Kr.uvl-,,1 i.lyll of Vm^Xv.xx li|.., oon.aini.K .'ao of tlu.s.. d.anninii 
 
 l"'>ir,i.ts froM, 'l..nn>M.i.'s pututv-tfallcTy of lowly woni.-n ; tlu- .s.v,.„.l is a 
 
 l>ru-,,l outh.nst ofKruCfor his frinul, Arthur Hrnry Ilalhun, vvlnrh li.uls most 
 
 y"'«'l'l''"Mvi.ivss,Mn in th.it nnl.lrst of all H.->;i,.s, /;/ .I/,.;//,.;/,,;;, .• ;,„.l ihr thini 
 
 isai..>:i,otK-i>o..n. which iviairs tho woniU.rfuU-x|,loii .,| onr of I'.ndana'.s old 
 iiav.il h< rocs, 
 
 Th.« .l.,uac-t,.rs of The l.ovd of Ihnhi^h uw fron, r.-al lifo. Th.. " Lord" was 
 H.-nry ( ,T,1, M,-,.h,-vv and hrir of th,- K.nl of Ksru-r. to whoso titi,, and rstatfs 
 lu'siuomled Ml ,7.^2. Th.. ■■ village. ,„ai.l..n,' whom lur ha.l inarri.-.l tin- .m'. 
 VM...S y..ar. was a f^unnrs dau;;ht.T nanw-d Sara lI^^:«ins. The •■CottUK.. 
 < <>""t.-.ss, as th,. ,„.opl.. of Stamford call hrr, d-'scrwd all thr |,rais.. that th.- 
 P'H't iK'stows „p,.n h..r. She .lie- 1 in ,7^,7, and lu-r ,,i.l„n- by l.awr.n.-.-, whi.-h 
 Lan^s >n ■• l',ur!..i,ch 11,.,,.,. by Stan.fonl town," fo,-,ns on,- .'.f ,h.- d.ief attrac 
 tions of th,. phu'... 
 
 'I'll.' r..p .liiion of ..spivsMons, as in th.- lin... " And 1,.. cam.. said " p 
 
 372, an.l th,. introduction of wo,-,Is an.l phras.-s that a.1,1 litiU. or noih.nt: loth.'- 
 '".■._u>.nK, smh as. " in tlu- lan.l," p. ,,70, an- .piit,. aft,.r th,. n.ann.-r of th- ol.l 
 balhi.ls. S....also •■ that day," p. 375, aiul oth,.r..Np,-,.ssions in ■' /■//,• A'«r«.r " 
 
 Ilu' pathos of th.. dosing lin..s of the po,.m is vr.-v to-u-hing ; tin- unpr..i,.n- 
 t.ousw,.d.hng-,h-..sso.th..C.,nMt,.ss, which b..c.o,n..s h,.r shn.u.l. is symbolic of 
 
 tlH- .appy s,n.pli.-ity of ih.. hist year of h.-r w.-,l,l...l lif... f.„. whic-h slu.'ha.l pin,.,l 
 in th.. midst .)t all l„r i;rani!i.,ir. 
 
 T.-nnyson hiins.-lf is ,,uot,. I as authority for tin- stat..,n..nt that th.- po,.m, 
 /irr,U; Ih,. v lUrab, was "ma:!, in a Linclnshir.. Ian.., at s oVioc.k in th.- 
 mom.„K. Ifthisistru.., i, i. iM,.n.|y on.- of many instances which slu-w how 
 
 lu-'iHndofap,.,.tinhis,n,.n,..„,-,of,nspi,at,.,n n.ay 1 ntin-ly uninHu.-ncod 
 
 by Ins surrounding's. 
 
 'l-hc ,,oc,n is an instanc.. of r.-nnyson's us,- of n;an,,a scc-ncry to assist in th.- 
 portrayal of a mood of feding. it was writlrn soon aftc-r the d.-ath of his fri..n,! 
 wlK-n he- was in a mdandu.ly mood, and a!ih..ugh it is n.H n.-c-essarv to ass..' 
 c.ate It w,th any pa,l,cular loc^aliiy, in order to make- it bc.tt.-r un,l..rst;).>d or ap- 
 preciated we may fancy the po.-t transported in though, to Clc.vc.don in S.,m,.r- 
 setshn-,., the burial-place of the Il,,I!a,ns ; an.l as he lo.ks ,lown f,„m ,he diff 
 uj,on the broad estuary of the Severn, all the moving life b..|ow takes color 
 from his own sad thoughts, 'ibo mournh.l sound of il,e wav.-sbreakin.nneffec 
 tuallyonthe ■' eol.l gray stones," s.-c-ms to b. a sympathetic respo.L to his 
 deep, unutterable emotion ; thegla.l shouts of the children on the b..ach au.l 
 the song of the sailor la.l r.-.-all to his nund t!,e " voire that i. .still " ; and the 
 ships passing out of sight into their port n-mind him of the '• van- .h-d hand " 
 
 Note the order in which th,: obj.xts that divert tlu- po,.fs mind are observed 
 
Jih^J'AK', IiN/:AK\ /}A^/.:aA\- 711 r. Rl-VI-XiiE. 507 
 
 -thr ,u.ar.-st first ; an.l ,„...•. too. lu.wjcy. lifr. a.,.| salisr,...! ,|,.sir..s (II. c ,„) 
 arc r<.iurasu.,l win, ,1,,. |„.,.t's ,jri..f a.„l wnsati.li, ,j;ii.,'s (II i|.,j) 
 
 In thrhrst .sta.ua tin- s.-a hrraks „« //;,. ,,„,,, , ,„„ j„ „;„ f.,„^„, j, ,,^,.,,^^ ^^, 
 ihefootofthfa;i,^.. t.. in.lirat.. I„.w .m.-rly futil,. is tl... porfs passionair wish 
 In tl... pat':,.,..- allusion .,f ,h.. |.,s, ,wa linrs .,f ,1... poMM. II... p..., sl,..vs a .nor., 
 resigiu-ii mood ; his dca.l (n.-nd will n.-v.r rctiim 
 
 A favori... occupation of Drak.. a„,l o,h-r naval .„,„n.an.lm of Kli/ahrth's 
 
 nm. was tlu- .ap.un- of Spanish tn-asur- si as th-y w.-n- nturniuK frou, 
 
 S<.m lAnuTuaan.! ,1... \NVst In,li..s. It was on muI. an ...ran.l that l.onl 
 II >M.as Howar,! wa.s .sent, when, with his s.p.adron of s.-vn, .ships, h.- fHI in 
 w.h a Spanish tl.-.-t. Th.. ..arli.. , ;u.,l p.-rhaps th.- Lost account <.. the liKh, i-. 
 a kcpor, by Si, Walter kal.u'h,pnl,lish.d in :hc same year (, co.) iVn 
 nyso.i follows Haleigh's-Ueport" in ih.. main. • 
 
 374- Ships of the line.— The old 
 name for war-ships of not less than two 
 tiers of Kuns, but a " limr "of I'.li/a 
 beths Heel was an insi|,'nilieant er.ilt 
 compared wiih th.- iniye "wooden 
 walls " of this century. 
 
 Why is (irenville, thosccon<l in com- 
 
 mand, numtioned first f 
 
 Coward. —.Show how a diff.rent 
 meaning could be K'i veil to Sir Richard's 
 words by dill, •rent inllections upon this 
 Uiid other emphatic words < )f the stanza. 
 
 Past. -A favorite form of the verb 
 with Tennyson, jn " Mnocli Ardeii " 
 aloiK' it is used six ti s. 
 
 Thumbscrew and the stake. Im 
 pleineiits of lorturi! of the Spanish In 
 quisition. Note the irony in this line 
 
 Heaving . . bow. A nauti<ai 
 expression meaniufj, to appear in sij,dii 
 on the windward sidt; of a ship's 
 bow. " I.ce" is the opposite word to 
 "weather." 
 
 37.S. Fourgralleons.— These four arm 
 wl meivhanlm.'n of great size and 
 Stren^Mll were deputed to destroy the 
 Hevenge. W,- an- told tiiat the S])an. 
 lards lost four slii|)s in the action, and 
 these may have t)eeii the four galleon 
 whuti made the first attack. 'Jho .San 
 J'hilip was the flag-shij) of the S|)apish 
 neet. "Starboard" and " hu'board " 
 are the right and left sides, respectively 
 to one facing the bow. " I'ort " is now 
 generally substituted for 'Marboard • 
 
 Havlnff that . . llI-contGnt, - 
 ihe San Philip probdily had what th(! 
 sailors call " a shot between wiiul and 
 water," that is. a shot-lujle near th.- ' 
 waters edge, whi h is particularly d.ni- 
 
 of the stanza. 
 
 Note how the repetitio:,i,f ship 
 long ' in the next stanza ivnd.-rs moi.' 
 vivid the lerrihle slru^j-l,- thn.ughout 
 the Might. The fight last..,! (rom thr.e 
 'xlock m the alternoon of .S..pirinlMr 
 loth, till day-break the next iiioining 
 and tlieSj).iniards were <hiven off lif' 
 teen tunes. The re|)eated words .should 
 btr prolonged in the reading. 
 
 7,7(i. Sink me the ship. "Me" is 
 
 an example of the ctltUul dufir,; or 
 dative of interest. 
 
 m- They yielded to the foe. - 
 
 Note th(! use of " tlK'V " instead of "we," 
 ■■^^ it the sailor wh.i is supposed to I'le 
 leliiting tlu; story were a man of Sir 
 Richard stem|)er. 
 
 And away She . . own. It is a line 
 poetic touch to represent the Revcng.- 
 as iiKJurnmg for her lost crew 
 
 When a wind . . main. Xotc 
 
 how the d(.-s;ription seems to gallii'r 
 force, liki- the storm it describes, both 
 reaching a clima.x iiitheline, ".\ridthe 
 \vliole . Spain." In re.iding, the 
 
 voice should rise with the rising storm 
 and l.e(„me .softened .and pallwtic in 
 tlie last two lines. Raleij.jh .savs that the 
 storm was from the west and north west 
 iind that the Revenge was lost upon the 
 isle of St. Michaels, one of the .Azores 
 group. 
 
 The pupils should beref|uirefl to de- 
 scrii)e ami name the .several pictures 
 presented in succeHbion lliruughout th- 
 
 pO Mil. 
 
 'J'he ballad is generally adapted for 
 singing and resembles tli<; song in this 
 respect, but it diff.rs from the song pro. 
 
 Rerous. N<ne the coni^in^^^^^a ^7 ^ i,e g 'ZrSrZ^f ' •'"■ 
 by the comparison in the list two lines | more of rantlque cait. ^^""^' 
 
5o8 
 
 THE Uir.ll Si' I loo r RE A HER. 
 
 1-XXXII. WVAWV. RIKL. 
 
 Aft.. tl,.MU.A.a, ..r,l„. l.V,.„..„ :u l.a ll,,;,,,-, i,. ,o.., a ,....una,u .f „,..ir fu-et 
 
 Uv.yn ,1... ,sl.„ul of AUl..nu.v „„.l ..u- K.vnd. ...a.,. ., i, „„ .,.. ,., a' i, - 
 
 .;.....-...,.„.. U.a, i.......i,„ c.-M.,-aU. inU.is ...,:... wuh su. ' ::;; 
 
 f» l)lau; ami uivum.laiuv as snit |,i.s purposa ^^ 
 
 .X-S. Damfrevllle. -C-onn.iaiul.T of 
 
 t H-cM-a|.in^r,,|„,„|,,,„_ 'lounill... was 
 llir I'liiiimi'.ndii (.(ill,' tlfci. 
 
 37'J. Slmi)le Bretou sailor f)i. 
 
 ■vrv.; with what line cdLrl III., poet I.m.Is 
 
 lip lO tlllS('\|l|( ssioll. 
 
 Crol3lcke£e. A IMti^,. „f Croisi.-. 
 Mi.'oiinis ar.' n.iiurs t.t St. Malo 
 
 Grev.?. A small lortil.rd p,„i lu tlir 
 m.r.iliot liu- kaiu'c. Solid,,,- is a |,„-- 
 liiif I iuii^ht laiihciiiptlie river. 
 
 S'- >■ Sti.l tlio north wind 
 
 ■-Ta«J. (;,,:! is thank. •,! C.r tlu" ikmii', 
 amil, a (avoi:il,|,> ujul (,,r a ship run- 
 i^iii.ii from La Jhiijiii! to St. .\ialo 
 
 A3 ita Inch . . profound. As 
 i( ih.- pass.iM,- had ihewiilili aii-l depth 
 n| the opiii s.'a. 
 
 >Si. Let the 
 
 \U)iild this ciiiiaiK-i! tiieir rai)tiii<-> 
 Not a symptom . . before 
 
 Compaiv the modest eondtiet of Ahi 
 .i-ail H.-eker, p. .p,8. Note the man's 
 .simpiieity in askiiij,M)nh' for leave to fo 
 and set! his wife, and he a "pressed 
 sailor " too. 
 
 ;vS2. Not a head . . smack. 
 
 An allusion to the figure heads eom- 
 moiily j.lae.'d on the li,>\vs of vessels. 
 
 Bore the bell. - In former tinu-s, a 
 hell was a eoininon prize for ii horse- 
 laee ; \\v\\w, to lu\ir uwav t/u- Iril was 
 to win the prize. Siieheollo.n.ial ev- 
 pressDn.sas this, and "snr.-as fate," 
 I'. 3.S0, ai(! (|uii.' in !v,-epin^r with tlie 
 siniplieity of the l.alla.l st\le. 
 
 Louvre. 'Ilie n.itKaial i)ietnre--Ml. 
 ''■i-v in I'aris. Th,- po,-i thinUs it a 
 ■^liamethat I ranee has no memorial o( 
 111.. i)iave dee<ldi>ne i)y lle;ve \<\v\. 
 
 l>r. Wilson's .sonni't (.Seleelion 
 I A- Will) gives iJoetieal expression to 
 the iioMe th.>u,L;ht th.it nothing great 
 IS aeeomplish.'.l m |if,. without iiatieiit 
 persistent efUMt. .Note ih,- different 
 ways m whuh tliis thought ispi.-sented 
 
 «««».. ri • ' " ""^ inoiignt is pii'sentei 
 
 RanCG.- How an.l givea snital.l.. lume to tl sonn,\ 
 
 Hy the interrogative form in wliiili 
 the next i)oeni, Our Ideal, is east, the 
 anthor appeals to the universal exp(-ii- 
 onee that no earnest, thoiighthil man 
 «'ver attains iiis ideal. ll,,wever mueh 
 we do, miieh more rem.iins to Ix'done, 
 lor our ideals grow with our growth! 
 and assume a mor,' perfect form as we 
 seem to apj)ruaeh them. 
 
 Lxxxvii. 01- Tin.: mvstkrv of tjfk. 
 
 390. The first . . lessons.— See 
 
 the s.inu,' lesson siiggc-sted in ])r. Wil- 
 son s poem, Our/,/.;,/. Slate eoneise- 
 y what the tliive h-.ssoiis arc that Kus- 
 kin wishes to tia.-h. 
 
 39-'. Affricu.ture. - r,et oureountrv 
 f)ovs note the high iiraise given to agri- 
 ei'.ilure l)y this givat eritie. and no:e, 
 too, what IloraeeCJreelev, another k.vn 
 observer, say.s of the same oeeuuation 
 (l.i's^on i.x.wi in the I'oiimh Rk.M)- 
 KK). Such ei)imiiendaiion of this "art of 
 
 Kings ' should make ourliovs eonsidiT 
 well hi-fon; they deei(k' to forsake it lor 
 a more " genteel " calling'. 
 
 'I he " Forest Cantons " aretlie seven 
 Caiholic eanto'is of Swil/.-rland ; the 
 "iiolile i'rotei.ta Us" aiv tiio Walden- 
 ses, wlio now in'iaiiit three valleys on 
 tiio Italian side of the Cottian Alps, 
 s.)iith-we>t of Turin, It is diUicult t() 
 iind island liow these mountain dis- 
 tricts of Swit/erland and Italy co ild be 
 • ■ailed (he "g.uden uf Europe." 
 
ji^^^^feSESC^^ '^ 
 
 RUiiJiV CIIArEl.. 
 
 Idlotlsm. -^or.•^,M■.1f^r",•,li.„.v.- 
 I he iiUusion is to tlif ortniism ol tl.i. 
 Alpmo vall.-vs. n disiMsc tli.,t i)i<kIuc,'s 
 lii'lonnily jiiid imbecility 
 
 Garden Of the Hesperldea. i„ „,«. 
 <li()l<.};y, th,; name " Jli^iuiidrs " was 
 '•"•iM.Tly appli.Ml to ilu; (laiijrlitcrs „f 
 H.'spcius(tluM'vninKslai),wli„^r„;,,,i. 
 «•(! cvrlam ,i:<)I,|,Mi apples j,, a luautilul 
 yanlfii ; alt.Tuaids ai)pli(d k, t|„. ^;,r- 
 
 5'5y 
 
 <'«•" it^'ir. Ill uliat MUM. does Ruski,, 
 llM- tilt- name f 
 
 Virgin aodde8s.-AiiK.„a, or Mi„. 
 
 crva. thcijatroiicssorall the art, and 
 trades. 
 
 Hii.sk in Is wonderful skill in dieelioiee 
 "I w..r.ls, the rieluK'ss..! ins imaj^M'ry 
 llx'leivoraiid l.iillianev ofliistluiiij^his' 
 ■ii'! apparent in ewiy ))aiaf4rapli, ii 
 ii"t 11. ev. ly senlenee. of tllo M'leetioii. 
 
 LXXXVIII. rilK ROMIN. 
 
 ?-^7. Armed . . Titmouse.- An 
 
 •'ll"M«>n to tl... foliowi.i,,^ lines from 
 I'.mersoi, s poom. The Jitm,>„sr: 
 
 " For well thesoi-l if stout within 
 < iui arm imi)re^iia!)ly the skin.' 
 
 Bloomneld. - -RolK.rt HloomlW.Jd 
 ( 7<jO-i823) wrote poems of consider- 
 i>''l«' merit, wl.ieh l,owell, however 
 strms to re.tyard as prosy 
 
 Poor Richard. A nameassmned l.y 
 iH-njamni iManklin, who Duhlished a 
 MTies of ahnanacs. be^^^innin.' in ,7,.. 
 :i|Hl oonli.HiinK' for twnlv (ive yeai^s 
 
 H-y me.ilealethepnid.-nlialvirtiies as 
 «l'liK'->uv, frugality, etc., |,v means of 
 nia\inis or |)reeej)is. 
 
 Cherries . . Asia-minor, cher- 
 ries an; .said to have- been (irst brom-hi 
 o iMirope from CTasus. .-.n ancient 
 tmvn on the soutiuTii shor.; of the 
 Jslack Sea. 
 
 He has a finer taste . . Johnson's 
 
 --.Note tlu; humor in this sentence, 
 and tiie allusion to Dr. Johnson's well! 
 
 known tabh; liabit.s. 
 
 Right of eminent domain -The 
 
 sovereign nf,dii claime<l by a ruler or 
 .government to appropriaf any private- 
 ["■"perty that is iho„j,ht i.ecessary to 
 llie jniblie ^^ood. ■' 
 
 :m Sweet Argos. Ar^^os was a 
 eity of ancient (hrec,.; here regarded 
 
 Fair Fldele.-\o doubt a i)layful 
 allusion to the author's wife 
 399. Primitive flre-worshippers - 
 
 IMe worship of (ire, and of the sun as 
 lio.soijrceofli^rhi and heat, was prac- 
 tised by the .incient {'.•rsians ; also 
 ainonf,'tli<- ancient Peruvians 
 
 Pecksniff. -A hypocritical character 
 in Dickens' /!/,/;■//// Chuzzlnvil 
 
 1 Ins selection affords a line sp,.cimcn 
 ot Lowells humor and of his bright 
 'jiey .style, much of the humor b.-iuLMn 
 iK'-'lln.sionsandin the ^rotesqu,. pic- 
 •"•<'s .sn.TO,.,„.,,. His allusions shoul.I 
 be carefully studied, or the delicate 
 point of the humor may sometimes be 
 nuhsed. 
 
 XC. RUr.l]Y CirAPKL. 
 
 401. Coldly . . laid. Observe 
 ^lu ", "-rr' V"' ""'•' i"t.-oducos his 
 hc-'he'f "'^'''^'''-i-^'^^^Kloncan.l 
 hi thei, ■fore .selects a j,rloomv Novcm- 
 
 IxTcvcnm.ir as the time of hi; supposed 
 vi.sit to Ruf, by Chapel. Nii-ht is rapidly 
 cKKsngm; the trees fade into dinnlss; 
 ttie boys are leavinir the nlav 
 
 Unable longer to.s 
 
 ouiid. 
 
 -see anything without, | force of 
 
 lis eyes are lurned to the interior of 
 llie chapel, which appears all th.Mlark- 
 er and more eluvrless in contrast with 
 ■lie lighted .streets and .s.-hool-room 
 windows; an.l, linallv, th. y rest u Don 
 
 liv the 
 
 40-- BringB thee hack. 
 
 CO! 
 
 iirast, for his father was not 
 
5IO 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 a gloomy in, in. Note the various ex- 
 pressions used througiioMl the poem to 
 show the cheerfulness of his father's 
 disposition. What lines in this section 
 best express its leading thought ? 
 
 At a call unforeseen. — Dr. Arnold 
 died suddenly of heart-disease, Juni; 
 12th, 1842. His celebrated son, the 
 author of this poem, also died sudden- 
 ly April 15th, 1888. 
 
 strong soul . . vain.— The 
 poet's faith in a future life seems to be 
 based entirely upon his belief in the 
 indestructibility of force. He cannot be- 
 Ueve that theceaseless activity of his fath- 
 er while on earth has ended with death ; 
 yet how different from the hesitating 
 half-belief of the poet is the assurance 
 of a conscious, active future state of 
 being which the believer in Divine reve- 
 lation possesses. 
 
 403. Still thou upraisest . . earth. 
 
 — Observe how the poet has led up to 
 this description of his father's life- 
 work ; and name aud explain the three 
 chief features of that work. 
 
 Eddy about.— Show that the poet's 
 description of the conduct of most men 
 fairly suggests this expression. Why 
 does the poet introduce the word 
 " perish '? With the fate of the class 
 descrit)cd in this section, comjiare the 
 fate of the selfish, unpatriotic man in 
 Scott's Lay of the. Last Mitis/rel, vi. i. 
 
 And there are some. — This section 
 describes the earnest seekers for truth, 
 men who have an aim in life, among 
 whom the poet places himself. 
 
 404. But something to snatch . . 
 grave. —The student of theclassics will 
 recall Hor .ce's presage of immortality 
 in Ode // ., 30: " I shall not wholly 
 die ; but a great part of me shall escape 
 oblivii'n." 
 
 Along, steep Journey . . snow.— 
 
 This comparison of life to an Alpine 
 ascent presents a vivid picture of the 
 dililiculties that beset an ardent, aspir- 
 ing soul. To what else is life compared 
 in the poem ? The allegory is not con- 
 tinued to the end, for there is nothing 
 at the end of a successful life that " the 
 gaunt and taciturn host " of the Alpine 
 inn represents. The whole picture is 
 extremely realistic, and seems to be a 
 recollection ^of one of the poet's own 
 Alpine experiences. 
 
 405. Thou wouldst not alone.— Ry 
 the use of the word ' ' alone " the poet is 
 enabled to pass naturally to the descrip- 
 tion of the third class, the few noble, 
 i)el|3ful, unselfish spirits of whom his 
 father seemed the ntost noble example ; 
 those who no*, only reached their own 
 goal but helixid others forward also. 
 
 406. And through thee . . gone — 
 A high tribute to a father's example, 
 that it was his noble life alone which 
 made it possible for his son to believe 
 that the accounts of great and noble 
 men who had lived in the past were not 
 expressions of a longing desire for such 
 men rather than statements of actual 
 facts. 
 
 Souls t-empered with fire.— Men 
 who have faced difticulties and endured 
 temptations are best able to help 
 others. 
 
 Ah, hut . . long.— Contrast the 
 despairing tone of this line a;id of the 
 section that follows with the animation 
 and hope of the last section. Observe 
 how in the last section one thought sug- 
 gests another, one expression is ampli- 
 fied by another, leading up to a climax ; 
 the whole section presenting a graphic 
 description of the united army pressing 
 forward, encouraged and inspired by 
 the presence and example of the few 
 fervent heroic leaders. 
 
 XCII. MORALS AND CHARACTER IN THE EIGH- 
 TEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 409, Arch-versifler. —An epithet ap- 
 plied to Pope to describe his skill in 
 versification — a gift that came to him at 
 a very early age. 
 
 TruilibOr.— A coarse, ignorant, lazy 
 
 clergyman in Fielding's Joseph An- 
 drews ; the opposite of the amiable, sim- 
 ple-minded Dr. Primrose of Gold- 
 smith's tale. 
 Hogarth. — William Hogarth {1697- 
 
THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS. 
 
 5" 
 
 1765), a distinguished painter, is esoeci- 
 ally noted for his caricatures of the vices 
 *nd follies of his day, one of his series of 
 cartoons being Marriage A, la Mode. 
 
 410. Hell-fire olirb.— The clubs of 
 this name in London were made up of 
 profligate characters. Allworthy is a 
 benevolent character in Fielding's Tom 
 fojies. Weston is a jovial, ignorant. 
 
 selfish, country squire in Fielding's 
 History of a Foundling, 
 
 PosltivlBts.— Those who profess to 
 believe that we can know nothing be- 
 yond what human experience can teach. 
 
 The student should acquaint himself 
 with the history of the period in order 
 to understand all the personal allusions 
 in this selection. 
 
 XCIII. CHARACTER OF CROMWELL 
 
 4T2.— Clarendon. — Edward Hyde, 
 Earl of Clarendon (1608- 1674), was the 
 son of a private gentleman. He accom- 
 panied Prince Charle.-; in his exile on 
 the continent. During his exile he wrote 
 the History of the Great Rrhtllion. 
 See Green's History of England 
 
 413. Ludlow.— An English gentle- 
 man who joined the Parliamentary 
 army in the Civil War, ultimately be- 
 coming a general. In principle he was 
 repubhcan, and as such was opposed 
 to Cromwell. On the death of the 
 latttr, Ludlow tried to restore the 
 Commonwealth, and on the Restora- 
 tion fled to the continent. He died in 
 Switzerland, 1693, leaving three vol- 
 umes of " Memoirs. " 
 
 Whitelocke. (1605-1676)— An Eng- 
 lish gentleman, prominent from 1640 
 to 1660, as a member of the Long 
 Parliament. He was chairman of the 
 committee on Strafford's impeachment. 
 
 Tho.j;gh he took no part in military 
 altairs he served in other capacities, 
 under both the Commonwealth and 
 Protectorate. Cromwell, he thought, 
 did not reward him according to his 
 merits. On his death he left an ao- 
 coixnt of the important matters in 
 which he had taken part, 
 
 415- Attlla.— InA.D. 434 Atilla be- 
 came king of the Huns, a race allied to 
 the 1 urks. His domain was the reeioa 
 to the north of Asia and Europe, In 
 a short time his conquests extended 
 from China to Gaul (France), and the 
 Koman Emperor was compelled to pay 
 him tribute; but his defeat at Chalons 
 m Gaul (451) saved Western Europe. 
 He died in 453. His followers were 
 remarkable for their barbarity; they 
 spared neither age nor sex, and dt- 
 stroyed all the cities they captured, 
 Atilla himself was called the "Sooume 
 of God. 
 
 CV. THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS. 
 
 An- 
 
 437- Out . . infinite. -This 
 
 stanza pictures to us a fresh English 
 meadow on a spring morning, and pre- 
 sents a marked contrast to the parched 
 and arid African landscape depicted in 
 the second stanza. This alternate re- 
 presentation of English and African 
 scenery is a noticeable feature of the 
 poem, and it will be observed that the 
 words used harmonize well with the 
 scenes described. Compare, for in- 
 stance, the spiritless monotone of the 
 second and third lines of the second 
 stanza with the animation of the corres- 
 ponding lines of the third stanza. 
 
 Shivering with sap. — By the 
 
 use of the word "shivering" the 
 poet suggests that the flowing of the 
 sap produces a quivering motion simi- 
 lar to that caused by the circulation of 
 the blood, and, like the latter, it is a 
 ^^xooi oi vitality— ' ' shivering with sap" 
 being m plain prose, " full of life. " 
 
 Shoot Into air.— Mudie describes 
 the lark's flight as "a succession of 
 leaps, as if a heavy body were raised 
 by a succession of efforts, or steps 
 with pauses between." Compare Shel- 
 ley s description, " From the earth thou 
 spnngest, likti a cloud of fire." 
 
512 
 
 THE HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 Spirally. — An appropriate word to 
 describe the circular swcp of the lark 
 ill its strong, upward flight, the circles 
 gradually enlarging as the bird ascends. 
 
 Nowtbat . . luminous.— pull, 
 cloudy winter mornings are more com- 
 mon to the climat"! of England than to 
 that of Canada, but in both countVies 
 the spring mornings and evenings are 
 distinguished by a peculiar glow or 
 brightness which is not observable even 
 on the clearest of winter days. 
 
 In the last two lines of the stanza 
 the ^llMsion is to the glow increasing as 
 spring advances. 
 
 Out Of . . thrushes.— The song 
 of the thrush, like that of the lark, is 
 strong, clear, and musical. Compare 
 the following description : 
 " Sweet thrush I whose wild, untutored 
 
 strain 
 Salutes the opening year, 
 
 Renew those melting notes again, 
 And soothe my ravished ear." 
 
 Musical thought . . floats.— 
 This means either that the air is full of 
 the music of birds, or that the genial 
 influences of the spring-time prompt the 
 birds to sing ; perhaps both. Words- 
 worth seems to have the latter idea in 
 his mind when he refers to the lark as 
 singing " all independent of the leafy 
 spring." 
 
 Unaware. — An allusion to the rapid 
 unfolding of buds on the warm spring 
 days. 
 
 AM the drooping . . song — 
 The familiar haunts of the swallows 
 are represented as missing the comiian- 
 ionship of these birds when the time 
 for their return is drawing near. 
 
 The white Algiers.— Algiers is fre- 
 quently called "Alger la Blanche; " 
 the houses are built mostly of white 
 stone which fairly dazzles the eye 
 under the noon-day sun. 
 
 All at once . . tones.— It is no 
 time for sighing when everything in na- 
 ture seems glad and joyous, when 
 " musical thought in the mild airfloats. " 
 
 438.— Singing . . fruit.— The 
 poetical way of describing the flowing 
 of the sap and the effects produced by it. 
 
 Dingles — A poetical word connect- 
 ed in form with "dimple." Trace any 
 connection in meaning, 
 
 A nrnwilaa TKo 
 
 gives promise of a warm day. 
 
 C s> 
 
 Leafage. — For the more usual word, 
 "foliage." Which is the more regu- 
 lar formation ? 
 
 Spray. — This wc.H is allied to 
 "spiig." Spray ^ flying water, is of 
 different origin. 
 
 To swoop . rain. — The low, 
 
 swooping flight of the swallow is re- 
 garded iis a sign of rain. 
 
 Something awoke. — What was 
 this "something"? Show that "awoke" 
 is appropriately used in this connection. 
 
 Alien birds.— Is the home of the 
 swallow in England or in Africa? Give 
 reasons for the answer. 
 
 Dreamy square. — In the centre of 
 the new town of Algiers is a large and 
 handsome square in the European style. 
 What phase of everyday life in an 
 oriental city might suggest the epithet 
 " dreamy ? 
 
 Sad slave woman. — Algiers had 
 been a noted piratical nest for three 
 centuries previous to its conquest by 
 the French in 1830. The Algerine pi- 
 rates were the terror of the Mediterran- 
 ean, and even ventured as far as the 
 North Sea. They seized ships, and 
 sometimes attacked defenceless towns, 
 murdering the inhabitants or carrying 
 them into slavery. In one of their ex- 
 peditions, they sacked the town of Bal- 
 timore in the south of Ireland. The 
 introduction of the " sad slave woman" 
 adds to the poem a pathos which 
 would not otherwise be present. 
 
 Show that the words used to de- 
 scribe the swallows' mode of flight are 
 well chosen. 
 
 By the order in which the birds are 
 introduced the poet probably intends 
 to intimate the order in which they be- 
 gin their song in the spring. Note also 
 in the third and fif'h stanzas evidences 
 of the advance of spring. 
 
 Discuss the appropriateness of the 
 descriptive epithets used. 
 
 Select examples of the different poetic 
 qualities employed in the poem. 
 
 The subject of the poem is a simple 
 one. Does the languas^e employed 
 harinonize with the subject ? 
 
 Stat3 the leading thought of each 
 stanza, and combine them so as to form 
 a synopsis of the poem. 
 
 Refer to passages which show that 
 the Doet is a correct observer of n?^- 
 ture.