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BE LA SAIiliE 
 8BRIE8 OF READKR8. 
 
 THE 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 MONTRKAI. 
 OO OOTTE STUKBT. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Parliament, in the year of Our Lonl, 
 1887, by 
 
 M. M. GRAHAM, 
 
 in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and Statistics. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In many schools the HmnKK Reader is the last of this Series 
 thai may be required. Therefore, while studying it. too much stress 
 can not he placed upon the subject-matter of its contents. 
 
 Awareofthis fact the Compilers have introduced such subject-mat- 
 ter as will tend to develop the mind, cultivate the heart, refine the 
 taste, and give an impetus to the thorough study of our language 
 and its literature. 
 
 Therefore, many ..f the selections are of a nature calculated to favor 
 the development of religious sentiments. 
 
 This Reader will introduce the pupil to .ome of our best and most 
 cherished writers. By the assiduous stu.ly of their compositions he 
 will learn the wonderful pow.M- , n 1 vigor and beauty of the English 
 language. 
 
 Yeai-s of experience have tanght the Compilei-s the very great 
 utility of exercises. These are continued in the present Reader, but 
 upon a higher grade. Here the pupil ,s required to give a literary 
 analysis. This he can do only when the lesson is well ur.dor^tooil 
 Hence we insist strongly ujx.n the literary analysis. After all, of 
 
IIIOHER REArER. 
 
 what Wncfit would bo tl»e eimplc readiiiK of the selection in prone »r 
 IKX'try, if tli<' pupil did not learn to appreciate the foroe an.i In-auty 
 of the thoughts contained therein ? 
 
 A slight exuniiimtion of the Reapkr is sufficient to show the im- 
 portance placed upon composition" and the culture of literary taste. 
 In most cases, the subjict -matter of the composition is the lesfon 
 itself, and therefore ample thought is afforded. Pupils have simply 
 to learn how to assimilate the matter, and express it in their own 
 plain sunple language. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface 
 
 Introductory 
 
 l.-Mv Lost Youth Henry IV. Lmgfellin.K., 
 2.~BEETirovEN's Moonlight Sonata 
 
 Anotiymous... 
 8.-HYMN of St. Francis . Mattheiv Arnold,.. 
 \.^Scene in Getlisemane . Nathaniel P. Willis... 
 o.-JoanofArc . . Thomas diQnincy... 
 6.-NATURE . . . Sophia S. Swetehine... 
 l.-Man-~m Noble . . Alexander Pope... 
 8.-MALIBRAN AND Pier- V . . Anonymous... 
 9.-FACTS ABOUT Ants ,I) Sir yohn Lnbhoek... 
 10.— Facts about Ants (II) 
 
 ^\—St. Peter'sat Rome 
 
 George Gordon, Lord Byron... 
 12.— What Say the Wild Waves > . . . 
 
 Otarles Dickens... 
 IS.—lN a Forest of America . 
 
 Rene Anguste Chateaubriand... 
 U,— Death of Absalom . Net haniel P. Willis... 
 
 I 
 
 P.VtlK. 
 |/> 
 
 19 
 
 28 
 
 28 
 
 30 
 
 86 
 
 39 
 
 42 
 
 46 
 
 50 
 
 o7 
 
 66 
 
 68 
 
IllUHKR KKADKIt. 
 
 I.KHIMiJI. 
 
 15.- 
 
 n.- 
 
 18,- 
 19.- 
 
 20.- 
 
 21.- 
 22.- 
 
 2n.- 
 
 24.- 
 2/).- 
 26.- 
 
 2'7.- 
 
 28.- 
 29. 
 30.- 
 31.- 
 
 32. 
 33- 
 
 >»KI.I«TIOM. 
 
 AI'Tlinil. 
 
 l*A<tl. 
 
 -Land and Sea Brkezks 
 
 Lieut. Mattheio F. Maury... 72 
 
 -Thk Coyote .... Mark Timin... 70 
 
 -The Battle of Hastings 
 
 Charles Dickens... 79 
 
 - Youth aud Age . . Samuel T. Coleridge 8G 
 
 -A S( ENE FROM CA1-1,!STA 
 
 Cardinal Newman ... 88 
 
 -TnK Venerable de la Salle and 
 
 James II . . Cornelius O'Leary... 93 
 
 -Ode to the Almighty . Gabriel R. Derzhavin ... 100 
 -Typhoons and Water-Si'OUTs . 
 
 Philip H. (iosse... 104 
 
 -St. Franhs Xavier 
 
 Thomas W. M. Marshall... 108 
 
 -The Cloud .... Percy B. Shelley... 114 
 
 -The Scenery of Canada . Joseph Hoive... 118 
 -The Heroine of Vercheres .... 
 
 Francis Park man... 121 
 
 -Break, Break, Break . Alfred Tennyson... 126 
 
 -The Shipwreck .... Lord Byroti... 127 
 
 - The Head and Heart John G. Saxe... 1 28 
 -SlLK-WoRMS .... John H. Gray... 129 
 -Influence of Christlwity upon music 
 
 Chateaubriand. .. 135 
 
 —Grand- Pre . . Henry W. LongfelUnv... 137 
 
 - Ike Sea -Limits . Dante G. Rosseiti... 140 
 
'•ONTKNTM. 
 
 n 
 
 72 
 
 7« 
 
 79 
 
 8« 
 
 88 
 
 84.- 
 86.- 
 
 "KLwrtu,::. 
 
 •Cleanlinkss . 
 Cloud Beauty 
 The Happy Vai-len 
 
 87.- 
 
 u nioH. p^„, 
 
 yosf/t/t Addisoti... 142 
 
 yo/ttt Ruskiti... 144 
 Samuel jfohnsott 
 
 88. 
 30. 
 40.. 
 
 41.- 
 42.- 
 43.- 
 44.- 
 
 4/).- 
 
 40.— 
 
 140 
 140 
 
 ir>o 
 
 
 H 47. 
 
 121 
 
 1 48. 
 
 126 
 
 I 
 
 127 
 
 1 
 
 128 
 
 ■ 
 
 129 
 
 I 
 
 
 1 
 
 135 
 
 1 53.- 
 
 137 
 
 I 54._ 
 
 140 
 
 ■ 55.- 
 
 The Firmament Sophia S. Stvetchim 
 -m Bells .... Hd^ar Alleti Poe, 
 - The Lily ami the Rose . William Cmvper. 
 -E.SCAI'E FROM THE DOUBTFNO CaSTLE 
 
 John Bimytin... 156 
 ■True Happiness . . . Gerald Griffin.., 159 
 Our Viri^in Mother /;^„,, ^^^ 
 
 Lead, Kindly Light Cardinal Netvman... 162 
 The Quartel of Hrutus and Cassius 
 
 William Shakespeare . 163 
 Influence ok the Gulf Stream upon 
 
 Climate . . Matthexv F. Maury 108 
 Pope Gregory XVI.. and Nicholas I., of 
 
 Russia . . Cardinal Wiseman... 178 
 -Man Made to Mourn . Robert Burm 
 -Vanity of Vanities . Cardinal Ne^oman 
 -An Exploit of Sir William Wallace 
 
 ^/> Walter Scott. 
 -FosiL Poetry . . Richard C Trench... 185 
 
 ■^^'^"'i*-^ John Miltoft... 188 
 
 ■// Penseroso ..... y^hn Miltm^... 191 
 
 The Bamboo (I) . Alfred R. Wallace... m 
 The Bamboo (II) . .. ^^^ 
 
 The Ministry of Angels. Edmund Spenser.., 205 
 
 176 
 179 
 
 181 
 
I.KSSON. 
 
 50.- 
 57 - 
 
 58.- 
 
 59.- 
 
 60.- 
 61.- 
 62.- 
 63.- 
 64- 
 
 05.- 
 66- 
 
 67.- 
 68.- 
 69.- 
 70.- 
 
 71.- 
 72.- 
 73.- 
 
 74.- 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 SEtECTION. • AITTHOR. PAGM. 
 
 -The Burning Babe . Robert Southwell.. . 206 
 
 - The Deceits of Appearances 
 
 William Shakespeare... 207 
 
 -The Coast of Norway 
 
 Harriet Mar tineau... 209 
 
 -The Religious Orders 
 
 Gottfried von Leibnitz ... 213 
 
 -Pleasures of Heaven . . . Ben Jmson... 215 
 
 -The Name of Jesus . Richard Crashazv... 217 
 
 -Paper Anottymous... 2 .1 
 
 -Civilized Life . Emile Souvestre... 226 
 
 -A Reverie — " Those Hearts of Ours" . . . 
 
 The Rev. Abram y. Ryan... 228 
 
 -Hymn to Light . . . Abrafiam Cowley... 231 
 -Devotion to the Most Blessed Virgin . 
 
 Orestes A. Brownson... 232 
 
 -Alfred the Great . Edxvard A. Freeman . . . 236 
 
 -Man and the Angels . Edward Vnung... 239 
 
 -Eternity Kirk White... 242 
 
 -The Spirit of the Crusades .... 
 
 Karl F. von Schlegel 244 
 
 -The Morning . . . Daniel Webster... 247 
 -The Cave of Mammon . Edmund Spenser... 249 
 
 -Morninp^ Hymn of Adam and Eve 
 
 John Milton... 251 
 
 -Rfnf.ath the Niagara Falls .... 
 
 John Tyndall... 263 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 is- 
 le. 
 It 
 
 •78. 
 
 79. 
 80.- 
 81.- 
 82.- 
 
 83.- 
 84.- 
 
 85.- 
 86.- 
 87.- 
 
 88.- 
 
 89.- 
 
 90.- 
 
 91.- 
 
 92.- 
 
 PAOR 
 
 LESSON. SELECTION. ^^„„„. 
 
 Intellectual Powers in Painting 
 
 yo/m Ruskin,.. 258 
 —TIte Pleasures of Vicissitude . Thomas Gray. . . 259 
 —Tlte Castle of Indolence . James Thomson.,. 262 
 —The Golden Tkmi'le of Peru 
 
 • • • t 
 
 William H. Prescott... 263 
 -The Hurricane . . John J. Audubon... 'i^ei 
 —Columbus . . . Sir Audrey dc Vefe... 271 
 -Pro7'idence . . . JVitliam .Vadsworth... 273 
 —The Fall of Greanada . 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 Washington Irving... 275 
 -Debate OF THE Senses . Gerald Griffin... 281 
 -The Traveller . . . Oliver Goldsmith... 2SS 
 -Friendship (I) .... Anonymous... 285 
 -Reason but an Endto Faith . John Drydeft... 290 
 -The Importance of Literature 
 
 Cardinal Netvman ... 29 1 
 -The Capture of Quebec 
 
 William Warburtoti... 294 
 -A Scene from Tell . . 
 
 James Sheridan Knowles... 301 
 -A Scene from Wallenstein 
 
 ' • • • • • 
 
 Schiller: Coleridge.., 305 
 -Paulus Lepidus on Mount Olivet 
 
 Miles Get aid Keon ... 312 
 St. Thomas of Canterbury 
 
 Thomas Aubrey de Vere... 319 
 
i 
 
 6 HTGHKU RRADKll. 
 
 98. — Mark Antonys Oration 
 
 William Shakespeate... 827 
 
 94. — Friendship (II) . William Shakespeare... 331 
 
 pREKiXFs Suffixes, and Roots 333 
 
 Hints 345 
 
 Biographical Sketches . , 367 
 
 II 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 ORATORY, like poetry, is a gift, and cannot be acquired- the 
 conception of original ideas and the ability to put them rapidly into 
 torni IS common to both-but as versification is to poetry what elocu- 
 tion IS to oratory, both may be improved by study; the' versifier 
 l)ecomes in some sense a poet, and the elocutionist an orator There 
 must, however, always remain a vast gulf between the two which 
 no mere theoretical knowledge can bridge over. 
 
 To be able to speak and read well-that is with a graceful and 
 elegant enunciation of our native tongue-must certainly rank 
 amongst the foremost accomplishments, and the truth of this propo- 
 sition appears to be generally admitted, and attested by the plea.sure 
 that IS so universally derived from ajust, appropriate, and harmo- 
 nious delivery ; for as language is the medium through which we 
 communicate our thoughts, feelings, and impressions, so the force and 
 power it exerts over us must naturally be considerably modified bv 
 the manner in which it is conveyed to us. 
 
 To the cultivation of this power the Art of Mocution addresses 
 itselt, and is defined to be, the just and graceful management of the 
 \'Oice, Omntenance, and Gesture. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 ELOCUTION is the utterance or delivery of thought by means of 
 language. GOOD ELOCUTION require, correct articulation, and 
 a proper regard for pronunciation, inflections, emphases, pauses and 
 
11 
 
 HIGHER READKR. 
 
 »i 
 
 I. ARTICULATION is tho distinel utterance of the oral 
 olpments in syllablpa and worrls. It properly embraces both the oral 
 elements and the letters which represent them. 
 
 1. Oral Elementa are the sounds which iittfn-ed separate or in com- 
 bination, form syllables and words. 
 
 2. Oral ElenmUft are produced by diiferent positions of the organs 
 of speech, in connection with the voice and breath v 
 
 8, The principal organs of speech are the lipf,, the t^-cth, i\iQ tonque 
 and the palate. 
 
 4. Voice is produced by the action of the breath upon the larynx. 
 
 5. Oral Elements are divided into three classes : eighteen Tonics, 
 fifteen t%.btonicfi, and ten Atonies. ' . 
 
 6. Tonics are pjire tones produced by the voice with but slight use 
 of the organs of speech. They are the following : 
 
 A, in fate, A, in ifish. A, in father, A, in b#ll. A, in fAre, 
 A, in pass, E, in shs, E, in f€ll, E, in terse, I," in child, I in 
 pink, O, in fold, 0, in frSst, O, in do, U, in tube, U,' i„ 
 ttib, U, in pvish, ou, in hour. 
 
 7. Suhtonics are tones protluced by the voice, modified by the 
 organs of speech. They are the following: 
 
 B, in bud, D, in did, G, in rig, J, in joiner, L, in lane, 
 M, in mine, N, in nine, NG, in gang, R, in rare, TH, in 
 these, V, in vice, W. in ware, Y, in yard, Z, in zone, 
 ZH, in azure. 
 
 8. Atonies are mere breathings, modified by the organs of speech. 
 They are the following : 
 
 F, in fare, H, in harm, K, in kill, p, in pine, S, in same, 
 T, in retort, TH, in thin, CH, in march, SH, in shame, 
 WH, in whole. 
 
 Tho most essential quality in a speaker being distinctness, not only as regards the 
 pleasure with which ho is heard, but also the comfort and convenience of himself a 
 moderate power of voice being audible at a .oh greater distance, provided the 
 ARTicvLATioN is pure and correct, than wniild be the case with a misfh stronger 
 organ if confusetl or indistinct m its utterance. Defects in thi*B particular' are 
 chiefl- attributable to a great precipitai.ey of speech, and are not unfrecjuently the 
 
 81' 
 
INTRODUCTORY. [[[ 
 
 RULES IN ARTICULATION. 
 
 1. A, «s M. name of a leUa; or whea an KMPHvric wonf 
 Yhould ahvays be pronounced Si. ^^aArw won/. 
 
 3 7i/A', t./*m no^ emphaac nor immediately folloived hu a ^vord 
 hhat commences w^th a ro.oel sound, should be ,L,ounced iY^k 
 
 4. U preceded by R.~When V long, as in tObe, or its alnha 
 />.jc-.,,«..^«„,ew, is preceded by H, or sound of sh, in L t , 
 
 ^^yllable, it has always the sound of in do. ' 
 
 5. A ,««y 6. ^n^e.i when imme,}iatdy followed by a vowel sound 
 m the same pliable. Whn, thus situated in en^plLc ZL 7^ 
 
 |jt'ays should be trilled. ' "' 
 
 ^^ ACCENT .s the peculiar force given to one or more «ylluble« of a 
 In iimny tnsyUables uud polysyllables, of two syllables accented 
 
 EXPKE8«10Nof8peechis\he utterance of thouKht feeling or 
 P«u«i '^^ ' '^'^^^*^'''"«' .I/««o/o»e, ^.,.on«/ton. and. 
 
i: . 
 
 IV 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Exf>re8SMn the soul of elocutum. By its ever-vrtrying and delicate 
 combinations, and its magic an I irresistible power, it wills— and the 
 listless ear Btoops with expectation ; the vacant eye burns with un 
 wonted firo ; the dormant passions are a" -d. and all the tender and 
 powerful sympathies of the soul are called o vigorous exorcise. 
 
 EMPHASIS is die peculiar force given to one or more words of a 
 sentence. It is both obso/vte and antithetic. 
 
 1. Ahsohife Etnpham is that which is used when words are 
 peculiaily Bignificaut, or important in meaning. 
 
 2. Anttihetic Eiupham is that which is used when words contrast, 
 or point out a d'ltierence. 
 
 RULES IN EMPHASIS 
 
 1. Words and phrases peruliarly signvficavt, or important m 
 imaning are emphatic. 
 
 2. Words and phrases that contrast, oi point out a difference, are 
 emphatic. 
 
 3. The repetition of an emphatic word ot phrase usimlly requires 
 an increased force of uUerance. 
 
 4. A succession of imrtortant words or phrases imially requires a 
 gradual increase of emphatic force, though emphasis sometimes falls 
 on the last word of a series only. 
 
 II. INFLECTION is the bend or slide of the voice, used in read- 
 ing or speaking. 
 
 Inflection or the »lide, is properly » part ot emphasis. It is the greater ri»e or 
 tall of the voice that occurs on the accented «i heavy syllable of an emphatic 
 word. 
 
 1. The rising infieclton is the movement ot the voice from a lower 
 
 to a higher tone. 
 
 2. The faUmg inflection is the movement ot the voice from a 
 iiigher to a lower tone. 
 
 3. The circumflex indicates the union oi the rising and falling 
 mflections on the same word.— All words not requiring the falling 
 inflection or circumflex are uttered with a slight rise at the end. 
 
n words are 
 
 rds contrast, 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. * y 
 
 MONOTONE is the enunciation of successive words in the same 
 tone of voice. Absolute monotone, however, should alwavs be 
 avoided. 
 
 i. Questions that can be answered by yea or 710 take the rising 
 inflection ; those that can not, 'usually take fJie falling inflection. ' 
 
 ii. In addressing, therisinginflectiondenotes familiarity; the falliiiK 
 inflection denotes formality or reverence. 
 
 My pretty boy', has your father a grindstone' ? 
 
 Mr.PresidentV: The uneasy desire to augment our territorv ha« 
 I depraved the moral sense. ^ " 
 
 iii. The rising inflection belongs to the softer passions. It follows 
 I expressions of pity, grief, or fear. 
 
 Oh my son. Absalom' ! my son', my son. Absalom" 
 
 Would God I had died for thee', Absalom', ray son', my son' ! 
 
 iv. The falling inflection belongs to the sterner passion.H. It follows 
 expiessions of anger, hatred, revenge. 
 
 Avaunt^ I and quit my sighr ! let the earth hide thee^ ! 
 
 V. The rising inflection is used after a concession ; after sentences 
 expres-sive of that which is doubtful, weak, or trifling, and after 
 answers which express indifference. 
 
 Which way shall we go? 1 am not particular'. 
 
 vi. The falling inflection follows expressions of reproach, defiance 
 or contempt. ' 
 
 Slave, do thy office' ! Strike', as I struck the toe ' 
 
 Stvike', as I would have struck the tyrants' ! 
 
 Strike deep as my curse' ! Strike', and but once' ! 
 vii. The droumflex is used to express surprise, ironv, contempt 
 sarcasm, scorn ; and m expressions having a double meaning or used 
 in a pecuhar sense. *' 
 
 MTfather's tra'des ? oh. really, that's too had :> 
 My father ,^lr. did never stoop ho Iow,- 
 He was a geptl^man. I'd have you hnow. 
 If tliou dost slander' her. and 
 Tortufc me— never' pray' more". 
 
VI 
 
 Higher reader. 
 
 1 1 
 1 1 
 
 I 
 
 viiL The peculiar intonation of unimportant phrases or clauses is 
 often called SLUR. It is the subdued movement of the voice 
 which renders those parts less expressive to the ear, and brings out 
 the emphatic words and phrases in strong relief. 
 
 For the dlttcernlDK Intellect of man, 
 When wedded to the goodly univerae 
 I ^ In love and holy pamion, Mhould find the-iu 
 
 A Hiiuple priKluce of the coiuiuod day. ^ 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 III. MODULATION consists of those variations which «ive 
 anC%" "'^^^ they are varied in M,.A./o.. ,.„,..,. 
 
 PITCH.— iS'ee LUroducfory to the iNTKi'.MKniAXK kkadkk. 
 
 VOICE. 
 
 ly. VOICE is sound pivnluced by the passage of the air through 
 the laiynx and cavities of the mouth and nose. 
 
 An analysis oi the human voice exhibits six essential elements 
 "umely: Foem, Qvamtv, Forpk, 8trk.s. Pitch, and Movement. 
 
 1. /l)mo/m.ns the manner in wliioi, the sound is sent forth 
 Irom the vocal organs. " *Jiui 
 
 This must be either Effusive, Expui^sive, or Explosive as 
 every sound, whether produced by the vocal oi^ans or by anv oiher 
 means, must be m one of these forms. - '^' 
 
 i. Effusive \, that form of the voice in which the sound issues from 
 the organs in a tranquil manner, without abruptness either in the 
 beginning or ending. 
 
 The breatli is not sent forth by any forcible effort, but is gentiv 
 effused into the surrounding air. ^ " 
 
 To ^quire control of this form of voice, i,.hale a lanje volun^ of 
 a.r brjorr utfenu;, coch .,nu,d. \n the formation of the sound give 
 
i RKADKH, 
 
 lid is Hf^iit forth 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 Vll 
 
 ^•iit Miifficient hrpHth to or(.<lii<.« n. • « 
 
 Hon. awe, a^..ni:;t, of j:;;:^^^^^^;^:^^:^-^^-- '-- 
 
 l'.T„OH.-We wateh^l her ..re..h,.., .,,„..,, ,,^ „,^^, 
 Her breathing soft aii.I |„w. 
 As In her breast the wave of life 
 Kept heaving to anfl fro.-.ffoo<l. 
 
 «.>MCMMxv.-When al. thy n.eroie«. n .„, Ood. 
 My rising soul surveys. 
 
 Transported with the view I'm lost 
 In wonder love and praise. -^o«rf. 
 
 KKVKKKNCKANDADOKATiO.V.-Thes«areth„ . . 
 
 lhes.«rethe glorious worlcs. Parent of tioou 
 
 Almighty. Thine this u„,versa..ranie 
 
 Thus wondrous fair. Thysen how wondrousthen 
 I nspeakab.e Who sittsta.K.veu.es. heavens 
 Midst these thy .owestworks.-3f,Y,o„ 
 
 AWK ANO AMAXKHKST^ 
 
 Now o'er the one hail won,! 
 Nature seen.s dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
 
 Th.eurtalne,l sleeps, now Witchcraft celebrate. 
 
 Palo Hecate's ofTerings, and withered .uurder 
 Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf 
 
 .r77''^''''^ -«•'•••'"-'>». his stealthy pace 
 --dhisdeslgnmovesl.keagh.,-,.,„,._,: 
 
 one of the most pLng^tSetlt'^^r' ™^"^^' ^-^- 
 
 "of the higher and holier scenes, whaf. tZT - ~ ■ .^«"*^'»PJa«on 
 uicerance rende.^ the reading of the mot ^T:."^'^ «^ ^^"« Properfv of 
 Nd praise har^h and unple^tn '"^''"'' ^^'*^^'^«««« '" P^aver 
 
viii 
 
 HIUHKH KKAUEK. 
 
 ™„tted (..,n 0. organ, m an aUn, t ^ ^^_^ ^^^^ 
 
 ,-r:^t:.:sr:ifio„„.v».o. *. 
 
 „, i, „„„v,.r..,l into an ..x,,..l».v- -"»" ^^,,, ,^, ^^,,„ 
 
 T„ a.-,n„. ,on,vol "< '^' '"^"'j" ^Z^t V P,ro«. ,.l«y "' '"■■ 
 
 *"tr :r :;:t™ ,.u,n. ,.. «>.-- -- 
 
 "^*^- ♦, inrni lor the oxpres«ion ot JOY 
 
 The e.plosm- .s the approvrmte m io. ^^ ^J^^^ ^^^^^^^ J 
 
 the SUDDEN .-RV OF TKKHOR and ALARM. | 
 
 and DEFIANCE. 
 
 .. \iid It thou 8ttl»l'»t I am nut ikh.i 
 
 A»(iKB AN1> dkhan. K.-Alld It 
 
 To any lord!" «<^«««'"> »'«'•■ 
 U,wlanaorhlghlaml,tHror..ettr. 
 
 lxmlAng«H,thou».a«tHed.-&V««. 
 
 ScoRS. -I loathe you with .uy boson. 
 iBcorn you wUh mine eye; 
 ,:„ taunt you with n.y latest breath, 
 
 And tight you itl.l die.- Pot*""- 
 ,o.„.«K.-Stand.the,round.syouro.n.my braves: 
 
 Will ye give it up to Hlave»? 
 Will ye look for greener graves? 
 
 Hope ye mercy still ' 
 What's the mercy desiwts fell •■ 
 Hearit In that battle-peai: 
 Kead it on you bristling steel; 
 
 A8kit.hewhowill.-/'u»»«..'. 
 
TNTKODiroTORy. 
 
 IX 
 
 2. QwiUh, of voice is the purity or imi.tiritv of th.. toiu' Tho dif- 
 |or.„t <,,uditioH are Purk Tonr, Orotund/Aspiratk, Pkctoral 
 <}uTTTjRAi„ Oral and Nahaf. ' 
 
 See Introductory to the Intkrmkihatk Kkadkr. 
 
 .'.If "'Vi '^' ^f«'-*-"'i"tonsity with which the mnmd is Bent 
 torth from the vocal organs. 
 
 Force may for convenieiu^e, I.e divided into Subdued, Moderate 
 Lnergetic, and Impamomd ' 
 
 i. *W«^rf is that degree of force which ranges from tlrfi siii/htent 
 sound that can be uttered in Pure lone to the milder tones of ol 
 nary conversation. 
 
 It is the degree of force, in connection with the Pure Tone E/fu- 
 sive Form, appropriate for the expression of i>athetie, .solemn, '^erL 
 and tranqud thou(fht.. ' ' 
 
 \\. Moderate force is the degree of intensity heard in the ordinary 
 conventional tones. It is the appropriate force, combined wi h 
 
 r 2r^ '." ^"'"' '" *'" "^^^'^''^^ oi narrative, descri^t- 
 n^didacttc and jmemotronal thought; with the Orotund, Effusive 
 
 with the Orotund, Expulsive Form, for tho introduction to orations 
 1 speeches, and oratorical sermons. oranons. 
 
 iii. Energetic force is that degree of intensity heard in earnest ex 
 h'ed conversation. It is the force of the voice^o.nbined with C 
 Tone. Expulsive and Explosive Forms, for the expression of yoy nlZ 
 l.ssnurth; with the Orotund, Expulsive and Explosive PoTms for 
 Ithe delivery of senatorial, political, judicial speelhes, oratiom'Z 
 he>-"u.ns of an oratorical character; with tlie Oro und Effusiv 
 ^orn, for the utterance of ^.o/o..rf .Mmity, grander, and Im! 
 
 k,!w ^^*^7'^7«^>^'^'^ '« the degree of intensity heard in the ex- 
 
 les^ion oi ..o^en^ and i.,,e/.ou. en^ot^on. Combined wit P re 
 
 pone, Effusive and Expulsive Forms, /;«^,a...o„.rf is the de Je of 
 
 In^tnn/ F , "^i''7r ^' '^'••^■'«^'^' Joy and gladness. With the 
 l-tund, Expulsive and Explosive Forms, it is employed in the ut- 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 inOHEB BEAKEK. 
 
 , :■ neah ■ With the AHpirate, Pectoral 
 
 »,,,,,^ofm»^myan'l«'^^7f^ ^,^i^; ,„ the ex pre««Km of an^r. 
 .na G«it.ral. Kxj.^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 4 C,ulrnce in that dropping of the vo.ce ah. clo^ 
 Je. which inaieate« that tV., .n. --^ ,,^^^^. ^^,^,,^,^ ,,Her 
 Thi« i« clone by dropping the v">ce on ^^M^ j^;,j t,,,, lower 
 
 in the aiHcrete or concrete --^^ /./tte b^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 than that which prevailed m the Ik, y o ^^.^^ 
 
 The note to which ^\« ^ -^J^^^ f ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 it de«. nd. will ^;l- ;;;^^^^^^^^^ ,,,, ,,rupt and low. in gentle 
 jri: I ^-Tu^I^Sate. while on unemotional thought . 
 
 is Blight • « A.m«.xu\n the watchful attention of 
 
 books, than that of cadence. ,,„^nli8hment It is one 
 
 A ^f CaAfnce is a rare accomplisnment. xv 
 
 Perfect command of Cadence >» » cultivated reader, 
 
 of the distinguishing marks of excellent in 
 
 5. p,„sKs.-5.. Introductory to the I«tbbmko:at. Rkadeb. 
 
 GESTUBE. 
 
 which appeaU U, the £«.. ''7'*"';7„„'.„d i^,„rt "f the .ent- 
 
 «„„ of every part o( the hody '» *" J^"^ ^^ „ „, „f • ue mo,t 
 
 ment expressed, action has «.•«>» ^^ '* 
 
 essential parts of Oratory. ^^ ^^^^ ^,, ^„^ 
 
 Ite power, as Ccero observes, is mud. g^ 
 Demo.thene.eregard.4 Am» a^fte «, -;;;^ .^ ^^^ 
 
 ^nrXt'wa".: t St tithovt the utterance of a 
 
 "": ':;::':«* o. ^.o» >. not . -hi* th^ Wy ana ,hnhs, h. i 
 
 i rw« vftprance- not to eXDiDit H'"-^e, .-' - . 
 
 to gi\e power to the i.tterance , I 
 
 explanation. 
 
086 ot* the B«n- 
 
 ATK Reader. 
 
 body and limbs, but 
 grace, but to convey s 
 
 INTRODUfrrORY. j|| 
 
 A judiciouH rnunHgemcnt of the eyen, in awakenu.^ and mHuvuu a 
 continued uttent.on, .I.,H,.rveH notico. They Hhould be neith... wan 
 dering nor altogether fixed or HtarinK, but g.n.mlly g..„tl„ and mo- 
 derate in tht.r luotionH. and .linrt.-d in turn to ditren-nt i.orti,.nM ot 
 the audience, hh ''"HngaKing cacli in conminn .li.sc.urHc. 
 
 In considering the nu.vemeiitH ui t|„. unun and h.m.ls it nhould U' 
 well tin.i. rstood that to ....Hnre « gru...|ul action, all .vN-urKAurrv 
 m«.t l,n Htnctlv avoided , and, theivf,,,-.., tiuH rule .,.«„ not bt" too 
 rareful y .n.,,re.Hed n,,..n the mind, naniely . That all motion mu»t 
 proceed from the movu>y.H. and not In.in th.- extremity of the 
 FINGKR8 and that the ki.iu.w .hould never be sn.r..,,,! t., Incline to 
 the boily; nor should the hands assume a riyid and con- 
 BtranuHl appearance m the d..spc...i,ion of the kinc.kkh. by l,e.„. b,ld 
 OPEN and FLAT, as if alK.ut to adminlHter a Hound " box on the oar ' 
 or Hpread abroad like a hunch of radishes, or crookedly conti-act^d 
 like the clawB ofacrab; but moderately opened, let the index or 
 hrnt finger, 'ightly press the middle one. theother two inclining gentiv 
 
 referring to the hands m a state of repose ,• and when used in a tem- 
 I perate and ummpassioned address they conlnbute to that simplicity 
 and grace-and. at the same time, dignity-that should at .U I met 
 clwracterize the movements and bearing of the orator. 
 
 QUALITIES Qy GESTURE. 
 
 The QUALITIES on which the excellence of (Gesture depend are 
 SrHP.icrrvPR0PniKTv.rKEci8i0N. E^kruv, Boldkkss, Vak etT 
 
 jCrRACE, MaONIPICENCE. ^ki'-h. 
 
 I'cr/ itr// not I,) re»erv6. Uh opiMifite it AFFK(tation. 
 
 ^eenrre,ae o//ahe, contradictorv, or un»uitable .ettu.el "^^ " '^ 
 
5BS 
 
 XII 
 
 hiCtHer reader. 
 
 meiU uiul the >n,eaker. Thitt givea the tame effect to action that neatnvmi of tirtic- 
 ulalion doe* to upeech. The oppositet are genturen which di»truvt the attention, 
 while then neither enforce nor illmtrate the sentiment. Such are moat of those 
 which consist in a mere sroing of the arm, while the stroke of the gesture is want- 
 ing. 
 
 4. Energy op Gkstif.e con»tV»irt the firmness and decision of the whole ac- 
 tion, and these depend very materially on the precision with which the stroke of 
 the jievture is made to support the voice in marking the emphasis. Let bad habits 
 be overcome, and a ready command of all the elements of gesture be acquired, 
 then will energy of gesture be ths necessary result of a clear head and a warni 
 heart. Its opposites are FEKunENESs and indecisiox. 
 
 5. Boldness of gestures t» exhibited in striking but unexpected positions, 
 movements and transitions. It is the offspring of a daring self-confidence, which 
 ventures to hazard any action which it is conceived may either illustrate or en- 
 forci: The courage thus to execute is valuable only when under the guidance of 
 oooiJ TASTE. The opposite of this is TAMKHT^H which hazards nothing, is dis- 
 trustful of its powers, and produces no great effect. 
 
 9, Variety of Gestures «on«M«» ,•„ /At adapting of gestures to the condition 
 and ever-varying sentiment of the speaker, so as to avoid a too frequent recur- 
 rence of the same gesture, or the same set of gestures. It is opposed both to 
 SAMKtiEaa of gesture and to mechanical variety. 
 
 7. Grace of (tESTURE is the result of all other perfections, arising from a 
 dignified self-possession of mind, and the power o/ personal exertion practised 
 into facility after the best modes and according to the truest taste. This usually 
 therefore, depends more on art than on nature, and has more to do with pleasing 
 the fancy than with producing conviction. It suggests not a single movement, 
 but simply preserves the gestures employed for other pur poses from all awkward- 
 ness. The opposites of this are awkwardness, vulgarity or rusticity. 
 
 8. Maonificbnck of Gesture is secured by perfect freedom of movement. 
 The arm moves from the shoulder, and the hand is carried through an ample 
 space. The head moves freely, the body is erect, and the step is free and firm- 
 Opposed to these are contracted gestures, constrained motions, short stei'" 
 and doubtful and timid movements. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 POETRY ia the expression of the beautiful by means of language 
 
 By the beautifnl is here signified everything that produces pleasure 
 in the mind that contemplates it. 
 
 VERSE, though it can not be said to be the indispensable form of 
 the language of poetry, may, when we consider the masterpieces of 
 the great author8,'be styled its ordinary manner of expression. 
 
 The end of poetry is by presenting \\h with the beautiful, to excite 
 in us sentiments of pleasure, and thereoy to raise us to the contem- 
 plation and love of God, " the First and only Fair." • 
 
INTRODTOTORV. j|j 
 
 Tlio language of Po«tr\- is in general *r,-,c r. , ., 
 m.^ than rt.t i, ^^^^^ ifmLntft^^'" '"^^'^'^"^ 
 word, and idiom,, «, well a, ir, «„tri 14 „ ' * L""7 """'""''' 
 are allowd, which are »lto™(K , , ^ '°"''™' '■"""truction 
 
 t..ulia.. n^toand TuXwof' h" °''''*'^ '" ^"^ ^"'"^ 'f- 
 deviation from the ori nZ ,'""'' '»"'««■"<» «'irare « 
 
 own choice for thia mode of expresl!" '""""■'*?»<' <- "■« P<«f» 
 
 *i«a,apec„,sr::ut:;:^^crf„f':sr- "- ^" 
 
 P«tryi, of two kind, namely: RHYME and BLANK VEB8E 
 thetn:;™*"^" '"'"« *»' '^i-*^ » »y"able. „f 
 
 Indulge the true .mbltlon lo ,t„l 
 In that bmt Mi,_the ,rt „ni,i„g „,«. 
 In £lani Verse the final aylhbles d„ „ot rhyme 
 
 «nfliL™X'"*'"°"""''""'''''°'''"-'"<'''P°'«' - »« f°™ 
 
 <nM™ '" "''™« "-^ "f 'wo line, „r versea; a 
 
 in tt™Cfo ft "r'"-«™ °'*™-' ve.«. varying 
 division of a7™*t;lg''"'''™^' ""^ '■°"*""«"« » -8«'a? 
 
 metre, ""'*" *'""'' P«''™ M«Feeableto the rule of 
 
 ve™i:. *'^*'™^ " "■' ■"■»">« <" I-'-' «. which a 
 »-«;ti"Z;'""'''''^''''''' '':'°""^"^ '*»". «-,y unac 
 
i 
 
 1 ! 
 
 \ n 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 XIV 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 four of three, as follows :— 
 
 lUSHYLIiABI^K. 
 
 1. An Iambus ( - - ) ; a». d^fe"''- 
 
 2. A Trochee ( ^ ) ; a», n"o-l>le. 
 
 8. A Spondee ( ) ; «». Vain Man. 
 
 4. A Pyrrhic ( - - ) j tts, miV(hlllV 
 
 TR18YIXABT.E. 
 
 5. AI>aetyl(---)i«w."'Trtuou>.. 
 
 fi. An Amvhlhraoh ( ^ '^''^ . 
 
 contentment. 
 
 ". An Anai>iC!*t ( -' ■ ) i ""» 
 
 "int«rcei^«'. 
 
 8. A 'Irlbach (-- — >-'); as, ^ ^ ^ 
 (nil) merable. 
 
 The C^suRA of dmi.hn, is the Pattsk whir-h takes place in a verse, 
 and divides it Into two parts ; as— 
 
 The dumb shall sing || the lame his crut*h forego, 
 And leap exulting | like the bounding r«e. 
 
 E.OLISH VEBSE may be divided into t^^- c'*;--^^^^^^^ 
 from the feet of which they principally consist, the Iambic, Tbochau., 
 
 and ANAPiESTIC. J u • * ^r^A 
 
 Iambic Verse is adapted to serious and elevated subjects and 
 has etryIU/o«r./Und other... syllables accented. It is of 
 
 various lengths. 
 
 The Nrst form, capable of being extended through any number ot 
 verses, consists of /our Iambuses or eight, syllables ; as- 
 Th^way I wSS lo^Bg I thrwrnd^l wtS c51d, | 
 Thrn.ili Istr^ w:i5 | ili firm | ^d 5ld. 1 
 The Second form, used either with or without rhyme, and commonly 
 calld theTt " measure, is the most dignified of English verse and 
 " wdltlpt^ to subjects of an elevated character. It consist of >. 
 Iambuses or ten syllables ; as— 
 
 Xh, the-n, I what hSn^ trlfUmph ttush'd | ^^breSst ! | 
 ThU truth I 5nce known. | To ble'ss its iZ \ bo blest ! 1 
 Somet™ s a line of .i. feet, or twelve syllables, called ..Ale.an- 
 drtnIZ, is introduced at the close of an heroic stanza ; as- 
 When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, 
 Skall n:.\rr knorc 1 tk^ source 1 .iTenee reW .ran\<l.ur s.rin,. 1 
 
8 place in a verse, 
 
 dtwr tpring* I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. ^V 
 
 The Third fonia of Iambic veree cowHh of sevm lambiwea for- 
 merly written in one line ; as — 
 
 Thmi dfdst I O mTghl t^ G^ ! | Sillt | Tre time | bTgan | Its ra"ce. | 
 
 This kind of measure, commonly used in psalms and hymns, is now 
 broken mto verses containing alternately four and three feet; as— 
 
 Thou didst, I (Tmrghliy (iSd I exist I 
 
 Ere tFine | began | Us race ; | 
 Hefore | the anil pie el I ements | 
 
 FllPd iip I the void | of spSce. | 
 
 Other forms of Iambic verse are. for the sake of variety, occaslonally^ntroduced 
 into stanzas, but which are too short to constitute of themselves an entire ode or 
 
 Trochaic Veese.- Trochaic Verse is adapted to lively, cheerful 
 subjects, and has the first, third, and other odd svllables accented It 
 comprises vei-ses of various lengths: those which are the most com- 
 monly used are the following : — 
 
 1. Of three Trochees ; or of tliree and an additional syllable ; a»- 
 
 When our | hearts are | mourning. | 
 Vital I 8pa"rk of | hwtv'nly"! fiatne, | 
 Quit oil I qiilt this | raortJil \ frame. 
 
 2. Oifour Trochees ; as — 
 
 Round us, I roars thV | temjj^t loirdef. 
 
 3. Of six Trochees ; an — 
 
 On sTl mountain, | sti^tch'd he\ neath tTl hoary | willow, | 
 UylTl shephml | swain, and | vieVd thr| rollljig | bill^. | 
 
 Anap^stic VEHSE.-The first form of Anapaestic verse, some- 
 Itimes mtroduced into odes to arouse the attention, consists either of 
 \wo Anapaests, or of two and an unaccented syllable ; as— 
 
 But his Wiur ( age 'gan foil, | 
 Kor no arts | could aviii]. | 
 or, ThSi his cour | Tge 'gan fSTi | *?„, 
 Fot nolFt* I could aVuU | h^„. 
 
XVI 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 The second hrm, much used both in solemn and in cheerful sub- 
 jects, consist of three Anapaests ; as — 
 
 O ye'wobds, I spread your brancli | esapm.*, | 
 
 TflTyoiir «leep | est recess | es I fly ; | 
 rwottid hide | wTth thebeasts | of the'chase ( 
 
 Two^ld vail I Ish from eve'| ry eye. | 
 
 Sometimes a syllable is omitted in the first foot ; as — 
 
 OA / W I TthTwrugs I of aTdove I 
 HiTie Hoon | woiild rtaate | you aj aln. | 
 
 The third from consists otfour Anapaests; as — 
 
 MayTgov |^ru my pas | siwis with ab | solute sway, | 
 .^nd gfqw wT | ser and bet | ter as life | wears away. | 
 Soint'tinies a syllable is o»u«(?d in the first foot; as — 
 
 Tin nhht I and the^land | scape Ts love | ly no more. 
 
 T mourn; | biit, y^wood | lands, Tniourn | not for you. 
 
 The preceding are the different kinds ot th& principal feet in their 
 simple forms. They are capable of numerous variations, by the in 
 termixture of those feet with one another, and by the admission of 
 seeondaiy feet such as the Spondee, Pyrrhic, and Dactyl 
 
 The Purrhie with thu Imnbic ; as, 
 
 And to'\ the'dead | my will | liig so'ul | shall go"l 
 
 The Trochee with the Iambic ; as, 
 
 Turutit, I aiid slave | those names | of hato | and fear | 
 
 The Iambic with the Anapoent ; as, 
 
 Myeor \ rows fthen | might assuage. | 
 
 TO CHANGE POETRY INTO PROSE. 
 
 This Exercise may comprise two operations : — 
 
 1. The Change of Poetry into Prose ; 
 
 2. Critical remarks on the Poorn. 
 
 Change op the Poetical Selection into Pkose.— 1. In rend- 
 
n cheerful sub 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. ^vii 
 
 (•ring the Poetical Extract into correct Prose, it must be observed 
 t^m^^every sentence in Poelry will require a corresponding onet' 
 
 2. A« much as possible, the exactmmn% and ^irit of the origin- 
 al must be retamed. ° 
 
 a PoetM term and idu»m must be carefully excluded, and ap- 
 prupnat^ prose constructions substituted in their place. 
 
 4, Regard must be had to accuracy of PuncUmum, and a skilful 
 connection ot the sentences. »«iuui 
 
 Critical RKMAKKs.-These will consist of such observations a, 
 iuay reasonably be expected from pupils of average ability, whose 
 attention has been directed to subjects of th.8 kind. Whether a full 
 discussion of every particular comprised under the following heads or 
 oiiyaselecionotoneortwo may be deemed the preferable mcile 
 must depend on the discretion of the Teacher. 
 
 1. An Anabjm, or. ii too difficult, a brief Enumeration of the 
 leading topic.s, sentiments, oi incidents contained in the Lesson • with 
 remarks on their practical tendency, or the justness of the Author' 
 reasonings, -ii-ui.iui « 
 
 ^^^2^0bservation8 on the suitableness of any Fiyure of Speech intro- 
 
 /A.t.^'''"''''''''"''"*^'*^^"'^^'"'"' ""^^ «ignificancy of the Epi- 
 4. Underlme whatever instances <,1 Poet,cat Liceme may occur. 
 
 osE. — 1. In rend- 
 
HIGHER READER. 
 
 PHONIC CHART. 
 
 VOWELS. 
 
 a as in lake 
 
 a 
 
 &i 
 far 
 
 ail 
 eAre I *T 
 ask I & 
 
 9 as in ^A'^h9t 
 
 T 
 
 bS 
 
 Idt 
 
 Ice 
 
 Tn 
 
 so 
 
 6 as in bSx 
 
 u§e 
 
 tip 
 
 fur 
 
 too 
 
 166k 
 
 u " 
 
 <x '• 
 oo " 
 d6 '• 
 
 DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 oi, oy (unmarked), as in oil, boy 
 ou. ow " " " out, now 
 
 \ 
 
 CONSONANTS. 
 
 b 
 
 as 
 
 in 
 
 bftd 
 
 m as 
 
 in 
 
 me 
 
 d 
 
 i( 
 
 li 
 
 do 
 
 n " 
 
 •■ 
 
 no 
 
 f 
 
 K 
 
 u 
 
 f6x 
 
 P " 
 
 •• 
 
 pvt 
 
 9 
 
 « 
 
 u 
 
 9© 
 
 r 
 
 •' 
 
 rfit 
 
 1i 
 
 *• 
 
 il 
 
 he 
 
 s 
 
 *• 
 
 sO 
 
 j 
 
 U 
 
 1< 
 
 jtist 
 
 t " 
 
 •• 
 
 too 
 
 k 
 
 U 
 
 (1 
 
 kite 
 
 V " 
 
 •■ 
 
 \6vy 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 a 
 
 \&g 
 
 w " 
 
 '• 
 
 w6 
 
 y as 
 
 z " 
 
 in 
 
 ySs 
 froze 
 
 ng" 
 eh'- 
 
 
 sing 
 chiek 
 
 sh'' 
 
 u 
 
 she 
 
 th " 
 
 ti 
 
 think 
 
 th « 
 
 n 
 
 thS 
 
 wh(liw),wh§it 
 
 EQUIVALENTS. 
 
 VOWELS. 
 
 ^ like 6 as in what 
 
 e 
 
 e 
 1 
 i 
 
 a « " >7vh6re 
 
 a a " " they 
 
 « ^ « « her 
 
 „ g « « polx9e 
 
 9 lil^e s as in race 
 
 lo, \j like oo as in to, r\ile 
 5 * « <i " " <;6nnLe 
 5 " a " " f6r 
 1^,9 " 66 " "PVt,«9^'ld 
 y' " I " "by 
 ^ ii X « "kit'ty 
 
 CONSONANTS. 
 
 n like ng as in thinH 
 u z « " hfis 
 « ks,orgz« b6x,e5ist 
 
 «ai 
 
 ■ea^e 
 
in b6x 
 
 " u§e 
 
 tip 
 
 • far 
 
 loo 
 
 • lc5t)k 
 
 oy 
 
 now 
 
 in ySs 
 
 « froze 
 
 " sing 
 
 " chi«k 
 
 " she 
 
 " tliTnk 
 
 " thS 
 
 ^hw), whfit 
 
 iinto, r\ile 
 '< e6me 
 " f6r 
 "pi^t,€9i.'ld 
 
 "by 
 « kit'ty 
 
 } in thinH 
 iz« bQx.ejist 
 
 THE 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 MY LOST YOUTH. 
 
 1. Oftkn I think of the beautiful town 
 That iaseated by the sea : 
 Often in thought go up and down 
 The pleasant streets of that dear old town, 
 And my youth comes back to me. 
 And a verse of a Lapland song 
 Is haunting my memory still. 
 " A boy's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts" 
 
 2. I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, 
 And ""tch, in sudden gleams, 
 The sheen of the far-surrounding seas. 
 The Islands that were the Hesperidesi 
 Of all my boyish dreams. 
 And the burden of that old song. 
 It murmurs and whispers still : 
 " A boy's will is the wind's will. 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 
 
 i remember the Mack wharves and the ships. 
 And the aea-tides tossing free • 
 
 15 
 
 He muses 
 and conjures 
 up his native 
 town. He 
 recalls his 
 youth. 
 
 He describes 
 his youthful 
 dreams. 
 
 Kecollection 
 of early im- 
 pressions. 
 
u 
 
 I"! 
 
 r 
 
 1 
 
 ill 
 
 ih' 
 
 i 
 
 16 
 
 HIGHEE READEK. 
 
 And Bpiinish ^«nilors with bearded lips, 
 And the beauty and myst^^ry of the ship^ 
 And the magic of the sea. 
 
 And the voice of that wayward song 
 
 Is singing and saying still ; 
 •' A bov's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. 
 
 k 1 remember the bulwarks by the shore 
 And the fort upon the hill ; 
 The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 
 The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, 
 And the bugle wild and shrill. 
 And the pusic of that old song 
 Throbs in my memory still : 
 " A boy's will is the wind's will, ^^ 
 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. 
 
 n. I remember the sea-fight far away, 
 How it thunder'd o'er the tide ! 
 And the dead captains, as they lay 
 In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, 
 Where they in battle died. 
 
 And the sound of that mournful song 
 Goes through me, with a thrill ; 
 ' A boy's will is the wind's will, ^^ 
 
 And the thoughts of youth ar« long, long thoughts. 
 
 C). I can see the breezy dome of groves. 
 The shadows of Deering's woods : 
 And the friendships old and the early loves 
 Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves 
 In quiet neighborhoods. 
 
 And the verse of that sweet old song, 
 It flutters and murmurs still : 
 " A boy's will is the wind's will, ^^ 
 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. 
 
 Remciu- 
 brance of the 
 foitlftcatloii.s 
 of the old 
 to m 
 
 Thougtato of 
 the brave 
 captains who 
 fought for 
 home and 
 liberty. 
 
 Deering's 
 woods and 
 early associa- 
 tions. 
 
Remcin- 
 brance of the 
 fortifications 
 of the old 
 to yn 
 
 Thoughts of 
 the brave 
 captains who 
 fought for 
 home and 
 liberty. 
 
 Deerlng's 
 vood» and _ 
 early associa- 
 tions. 
 
 MY LOST YOUTH. 
 
 1 Jt'iiitmiber the gleams and gloonM that dark 
 
 Across tlie school -boy'g brain ; 
 The song and the silence in the heart, 
 riiat in part are projihecies, and in part 
 .\re longing wild and vain. 
 And the voice of that fitful song 
 Sings on and is never still : 
 • A boy's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth arc long, long thoughts." 
 
 . There are things of which I may not speak ; 
 
 There are dreanjs that cannot die ; 
 There are thoughts that make the strong heai-t w.-ak, 
 And bring a pallor into the cheek, 
 And a mist before the eye. 
 And the wor ,s of that fatal song 
 Come over me like a chill : 
 " A boy's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 
 
 19. Strange to me now are the forms that I meet 
 When I visit the dear old town ; 
 But the native air is pure and sweet 
 And the trees that o'ershadow each well-knowu street 
 As they balance up and down. 
 Are singing the beautiful song, 
 Are sighing and whispering still : 
 ' A boy's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are lon^, long thoughts." 
 
 llO. And Deering's woods are fresh and fair 
 And with joy that is almost pain 
 My heart goes back to wander there 
 And among the dreams of the days that were, 
 1 find my lost youth again. 
 And the strange and beautiful sang, 
 The graves are repeating it still : 
 ■ A boy's will is the wind's will. 
 
 17 
 
 l^ay-d reams 
 of a school- 
 boy recalled. 
 
 The secrets 
 which the 
 youthful 
 neart con- 
 cealed. 
 
 Changes oc- 
 cur in his nu. 
 tive town. 
 
 In his dii} - 
 dreams hi' 
 wanders bucic 
 to Deering's 
 woods and 
 finds hLs lost 
 youth. 
 
X8 HIGHER READER. 
 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." '^ 
 
 Henry Wordmorth Longfellow. 
 
 LITERARY ANALYSIS. 
 
 Pei:80NAGE8.— Who is represented as the speaker in the selection ? 
 Time and PiiACE. — When and where is the poet represented as 
 
 speaking ? 
 WoBDs AND Actions.— 1. Where is the scene laid ? What^kesho 
 
 think ? 
 
 2. What sees he in the second stanza? 
 
 3. What recollections has he related in 
 the third stanza ? 
 
 1 4. What relates he in the fourth stanza? 
 
 5. What does he remember in the fifth 
 stanza ? 
 
 6. What is present to his mind in the 
 sixth stanza? 
 
 7. What recollections recounts he in the 
 seventh stanza? 
 
 8. What arc the things he does not tell ? 
 
 9. Of what changes does he speak in the 
 ninth stanza? 
 
 Result.— What does he at last find again ? 
 
 Moral.— What lessons are taught? 
 
 Questions.— Where is Lapland? What do you know of the inhab- 
 itants f What have you to say of the seasons of Lapland? Repeal 
 the words of the Lapland song. What is their meaning? Where are 
 the Hesperides? Mention some celebrated naval engagements and 
 admirals What does the author mean by the breezy dome of groves ' 
 Explain • comes back with a Sabbath sound.' What are the w.1.1 
 and vain longings of a school-boy ? What sort of thoughts make the 
 strong heart weak? What js the idea conveyed by 'the trees 
 o'ershadow each well-known street'? What do you know of Long- 
 fellow? What is it that attracts the reader of Evangeline? Give 
 Bome lines, on this subject, from other poems you have read. 
 Require the pupU to write this poem in prasp. 
 
MOONLIGHT SONATA. 
 
 19 
 
 id? WhatrWeshc 
 
 BEETHOVEN'S MOONLIGHT SONATA. 
 
 so-na' td, «., n kind ofmmical composition. 
 n-na' I«, «., the end of apiece of mumc. 
 
 In-V6l' un-ta-ri-ly, a,lv., without choice ■ without in* r 
 rfiv' er»-*»nf_i« .. i -ai ^ ' ^"""out tntendina. 
 
 ag-i-ta' to, m rmmv, hun-ied ; trcmblin<,. 
 i m- pti 1 ' 8l V^, „., sudden, unexpected ' 
 
 l^n''''.:^^?^' "- '■' '"^^'"^ *'"«^'*'»^ "Without preparation 
 in'fl-nlti^-ly, adv.. without bounds in limit. . 
 
 9rO-t«sque', adj., wildly formed ; ludicrous. 
 
 I In'ter-ludte^, «., « short piece of ,msic. 
 
 It happened at Bonn. One moonliahf wm* • 
 
 I called upon Beethoven; for I wi M " r/o Tk '"' 
 
 [walk, and afterward min with me Tn „ i " 
 
 U dark, narrow street he Ltnl/^r^.-S 
 
 be said, "what sound is that? r. ;/f „H"*-' 
 
 ^K Hark ! how well it L p^ed r """ "^ """"'^ '» 
 
 M ,r„:r;rpTa;t:t *"' r ^'*"-'' -^^^^ 
 
 he finale, there SZilTZl^'l: T "'''^"" 
 lohhin.y «T^ ■ i '^^ "i«<iK , then the voice of 
 
 iODDing. 1 can not play any more Tt ,o v „ 
 
 ft is utterly beyond rly ^[owe'r ^l it e" '^w^'i 
 
 huld I not g,ve to go to the eonoert at Cologne-' ' 
 
 Ah ! my sister," said her companion • " wl, 
 bgrets when there is „o remedy ^We 1 J^^ '"^'^ 
 |ur rent. " "./ • we can scarcely pay 
 
 " You are right, and yet I wish for once in mv life * 
 Bar some really g^d music. But it is of L us" •■ ^ 
 Beethoven looked at me. " T.»t „. - ■ .?. 
 
 "«oinr.Iexcla,med;..wI:::„Tgo!:C^. 
 
20 
 
 HiaHEll READER. 
 
 " I will play to lior," ho mu\, in an excitod tone. " Here 
 iH feeling— goniiiH—underHtanding ! I will play to her, and 
 she will understand it." 
 
 And, before I could prevent him, his hand was upon 
 the door. It opened and we entered. 
 
 A pale young man was sitting by the table, making 
 shoes ; and near him, leaning sorrowfully upon an old- 
 tashioned piano, sat a young girl, with a profusion of light 
 hair falling over her face. Both were cleanly but very 
 poorly dressed, and both started and turned toward us as 
 we entered. 
 
 " Pardon me, " said Beethoven, but I heard music and 
 was tempted to enter. I am a musician." 
 
 The girl blushed, and the young man looked grave and 
 somewhat annoyed. 
 
 " I— I also overheard something of what you said " 
 continued my friend. " You wish to hear— that is, vou 
 would like— that is— shall I play for you ? " 
 
 There was -something so odd in the whole affair, and 
 something so comical and pleasant in the manner of .the 
 speaker, that the spell was broken in a moment, and all 
 smiled involuntarily. 
 
 " Thank you, " said the shoemaker ; " but our piano is 
 so wretched, and we have no music." 
 
 " No music ! " echoed my friend ; " how, then, does the 
 young lady—." He paused, and colored ; for, as he 
 looked in the girl's face, he saw that she was blind. " I— 
 I entreat your pardon," he stammered. " I had not per- 
 ceived before. Then you play by ear? But where do 
 you hear the music, since you frequent no concerts ? 
 
our piano is 
 
 MOONLIGHT SONATA. 21 
 
 uscil to i„,ir ,v l„,ly j,ra<.ti„ing near us. Durinir tho «„,, 
 mer ev.„„„g.,, her win.low, wore ge„erally In » r 
 walkd to and fro outei.lo to li„ton to hor." 
 
 She seemed so shy that Boothoven said no more but 
 coated lumself quietly before ti.o piano and began to,',, ^ 
 He had no sooner struck the first chord than I knew 
 w at would ollow-how grand ho would be Li nl7 
 An,l I wa, not mistaken. Never, during all the yearf 
 knew h,m, dul I hear him play as he the^n jJayed to Aa 
 W.nd g,rl and her bro.l.r. Ho seemed I Z inspir d 
 and from tho instant when his fingers began to wand'; 
 along the keys, the very tone of the instrument seemed to 
 grow sweeter and more equal. 
 
 rap?„re'""°Tll' f""" '"T rV''""' *'"' ^""^"^ ""^ 
 rapture. The former laid aside his work; the latter 
 
 w.th her head bont slightly forward, and her ham,, 
 pressed ttghtly over her breast, crouched down near the 
 nd of the p,ano, aa if fearful lest even tho beating of her 
 heart should break the flow of those magical swe 
 -unds. It was as if we were all bound in a tZe 
 dream, and only feared to awake. ' ^ 
 
 Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank 
 fl.okeml, and went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw 
 open the shutters, admitting a flood of brilliant n..Z^ ' 
 The room w,« almost as light a, before, the moon's rtvs 
 W mg strongest u,»n the piano and plaver. But X 
 
 C'dent. His head drop,,ed u,x,„ his bre.«t : his h-d- 
 
 'i^U^^ "'' ^"""' ^' '"""""l »f«<"-b«'l in deep 
 thought. He remained thus for some time. At length 
 
22 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 the young shoemaker rose and approached him eairerlv 
 and reverently. 
 
 "Wonderful man! " he said, in a low tone. " Who 
 and what are you ? " 
 
 " Listen ! " said Beethoven, and he played the opening 
 bars of the Sonata in F. A cry of delight and recogni 
 tion burst from them both, and exclaiming. " Then you 
 are Beethoven ! " they covered his hands with tears and 
 Kisses. 
 
 ^^ He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties. 
 " Play to us once more — only once more ! " 
 
 He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument 
 The moon shone brightly in through the window, and 
 lighted up his glorious, rugged head and massive figure. 
 " I will improvise a sonata to the moonlight ! " said he 
 looking up thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his 
 hands dropped on the keys, and he began playing a sad 
 and infinitely lovely movement, which crept gently over 
 the instrument, like the calm flow of moonlight over the 
 dark earth. 
 
 This waa followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple 
 time— a sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of 
 sprites upon the lawn. Then came a swift agitato finale 
 —a breathless, hurrying, trembling movement, descriptive 
 of flight, and uncertainty, and vague impulsive terror, 
 which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us 
 all in emotion and wonder. 
 
 "FareweUtoyou!" said Beethoven, pushing back his 
 chair, and turning toward the door—" farewell to you! » 
 '■ You will come again? " asked they, in one breath. 
 
HVNM OP ST. FEANCIS. 33 
 
 come again !- ^ "^^ '""« '"^wns •' Famvell ! f„ii, 
 
 Their looks folln ri 
 words till wewere o,rt of dghf ""' """•" <''«'''«'" ">«" 
 
 " ^®' "s make liaste hant " j „ 
 '-y write out that aona 7 thijfcaf t""'' " *'*^' ^ 
 
 We did so an.l 1 ^''* remember it." 
 
 -«s w. :;;:' i^;;:' :- ■^;-i' io„«p.,tda,-dawn. 
 tt,:.!!;;,:^:rf>%a:::iS"''«^'«»-wit.. 
 
 '■»'*e? F„, what ■ t'ctrof C ,"" '^'""" ' ^^'— "Bo™. 
 I^'wlarly strikes you ,^, n^ ,"''*"' n°'»'l ? Bora? What 
 
 «on of the hUnc. giri ?! J Sfe:!! f"""'^" ' '"^^ '^ «^- 
 •-»"«ta' ? WhatisaspriteVwhateffi.",' ™"" *"' "Moonlight 
 -Seywre /M pupil io„ril, » 1 ''"" "™'« on man ? 
 
 ;;*« .*< Af L i:zz7z:7 "', "z"- ^' «"' '■»- 
 
 'i^^'«*«c ^ «cer«^«,9 Mozart, mid the influence 
 
 SYNM OP ST. FRANCIS. 
 
 /aA/e«. ""^ remmwm of coke on words or syh 
 
 Tn thebegioningof the thirteenth oent,.^ there app^^red 
 
24 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 in Italy, to the north of Eome, in the beautiful Umbrian 
 country at the f6ot of the Apennines, a figure of the most* 
 magical power and charm — St Francis. His century is, 
 I think, the most interesting in the history of Christianity 
 after its primitive age ; and one of the chief figures, 
 perhaps the very chief, to which this interest attaches 
 itself, is St. Francis. He founded the most popular body 
 of ministers of religion that has ever existed in the 
 Church. 
 
 He transformed monachism by uprooting the stationaiy 
 monk, delivering him from the bondage of property, and 
 sending him, as a mendicant friar, to be a stranger and 
 sojourner, not in the wilderness, but in the most crowded 
 haunts of men, to console them and, to do them good. 
 This popular instinct of his, is at the bottom of his famous 
 marriage with poverty. Poverty and suffering are the 
 condition of the people, the multitude, the immense major- 
 ity of mankind ; and it Wfxs toward this people that his 
 soul yearned. " He listens," it was said of him, " to those 
 to whom God Himself seems not to listen." 
 
 So in return, as no other man he was listened to. 
 When an Umbrian town or village heard of his approach, 
 the whole population went out in joyful procession to 
 meet him, with green boughs, flags, music, and songs of 
 gladness. The master who began with but two disciples, 
 could, in his own lifetime, (and he died at forty-four), 
 colle( t to keep Whitsuntide with him, in presence of an 
 immense multitude, five thousand of his Minorites. He 
 found fulfilment to his prophetic cry : "I hear in my ears 
 the sound of the tongues of all the nations who shall come 
 unto us— Frenchmen, Spaniards, Germans, Englishmen. 
 
HYMN OF ST. FRANCIS. 
 
 25 
 
 JtT 7f ""' '"""'f *'''' '"•^*"" »»"'' ^""i he made 
 poetry. Lat.n was too learnd for this simple, popular 
 
 nature, and he composed i,. hi« mother-to„fe4 in Mian 
 rhe^g,„m„ 0, th, „„„^^„^ ^^ ^^^ j^j 
 
 mS.c,ly, at the c»urt of kings; the beginnings of their 
 
 are the humlJe upper waters of a mighty stream • at tfiS, 
 begmning of the thirteenth century^t i^ St.Z^ct a 
 the end, Dante. St. Francis' Ch,Mde of the Sun 
 M« of the Creature., (the poen> go..s by both nam!,T 
 .» designed for popular use ; artless in laugifage, irreTulIr 
 
 S:jth"'*'^r''''''"^"='^"''-'*««entthaSr- 
 
 duced ,t and the smiple natures that loved and repeated it ■ 
 
 Th?etf *"'"'■' ■"°",''«''' »"'"'>'«". »"<• gracious ! To 
 Thee belong prmse, glory, honor, and all benediction! All 
 tlungs do refer to Thee. No man is worthy to nate 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for all Thy creatures ■ 
 especmlly for our brother, the sun, who brin^ „s the 1; 
 and who brmgs us the light; feir is he, andfhining wUh 
 a very great splendor : Lord, he signifies to us Thee I 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for our sisters the 
 
 r^thitr*''^*"''^''-''-----^ 
 
 Praise be to Thee, O my Lord, for our brothers the 
 tte which Thou upholdest life in all creatures ' 
 
 Praise be to Thee, O my Lord, for our sister, the water. 
 
26 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 who is very serviceable unto us, and lowly, and precious, 
 and pure. 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for our brother, the 
 fire, through whom Thou givest us. light in the darkness : 
 and he is bright, and pleasant, and very mighty, and 
 strong. 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for our mother, the 
 earth, the which doth sustain and nourish us, and bring- 
 eth forth divers fruits, and flowers of many colors, and 
 grass. 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for all those who. par- 
 don one another for Thy love's sake, and who endure 
 weakness and tribulation; ble.ssed are they who peaceably 
 »hal>. endure; for Thou, O Most Highest, shalt give them 
 a crown. 
 
 Praise be to Thee, my Lord, for our sister, the death 
 of the body, from whom no man escapeth. Alas ! for such 
 as die in mortal sin. Blessed are they who, in the hour 
 of death, are found living in conformity to Thy most holy 
 will for the second death shall have no power to do them 
 harm. 
 
 All creatures, praise ye and bless ye the Lord, and give 
 thanks unto Him, and serve Him with all humility. 
 
 It is natural that man should take pleasure in his 
 senses. It is natural, also, that he should take refuge in 
 his heart and imagination from his misery. When one 
 thinks what human life is for the vast majority of man- 
 kind, its needful toils and conflicts, how little of a feast, for 
 their senses it can possibly be, one understands the ^harm 
 ibr them of a refuge offered in the heart and imagination. 
 
HYMN OF ST. FRANCIS. 
 
 27 
 
 ^asure in his 
 
 The poetry of St. Francis' hymn, is poetry treating the 
 world according to the heart and imagination. It take, 
 the world by its inward, symbolical side. It admits the 
 whole word, rough and smooth, painful and plea.ure-giv- 
 mg all alike, but all transfigured by the power of aspir- 
 itual emotion, all brought under a law of super-sensual 
 love, having its seat in the soul. It can thus even say, 
 Fraised be my Lord for our sister, the death of the bod^." 
 
 Matthew Arnold, ^' 
 
 is itlvf WhTt? H ': '' '^"' ''"'^ '^' '^"^'^'^^ ''-'^^ ^ Where 
 3 Italy ? What kind of .government ? Where is Rome ? What do von 
 
 now of It? What rank did it hold among ancient Lrn^W^ 
 
 doesatcontmue to hold that ,.nk to-day? Describe the cou J o' 
 
 ui^r ? Why ,8 he usually called St. Francis of Assisi ? What do you 
 know of his early hfe? How did he transform monachism? What 
 ^s heauthormeanby Baying ''his famousmamagewithpo^I'^^ 
 What poverty :s here miplied ? What do you mean by Whitsuntide ? 
 
 1 wr.Tr*" ^ l"" ^^"* ^*°8ua«e did St. Fmncis Lteh s hymn 
 ^.d why ? Who was Dante? How does headdress God? What does^ 
 
 fire? ForT' ^^""f The wind« and clouds ? ThewJeTand 
 P i e God rw^^^^^^^ '! ^"^" ^^ ' ^P- -h- ^- he call to 
 
 ^.9mr« ^Ae jmu^»7 to wriie a composiiion on the Hymn of 
 Si. Franm Let kim also give s<me. particulars of the li of thi 
 seraphic saint. j <^ vyc uj mis 
 
 lot— 
 
 The soul, of origin divine, 
 God's glorious image, freed clay. 
 
 In Heavfin'n afaxnni „»,u-_. _i ii . . 
 
 — — , „„{ cpiicre Snail same. 
 
 A star of day.—Montffomeri/. 
 
28 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 SOENE IN aETHSBMANE. 
 
 1. The moon was shining yet. The Orient's brow, 
 Set with the morning-star, was not yet dim ; 
 And the deep silence which subdues the breath 
 T 5ke a strong feehng, hung upon the world 
 
 L^ sleep upon the pulses of a child. 
 
 'T was the last watch of night. Gethsemane, 
 
 With its bathed leaves of silver, seem'd dissolved 
 
 In visible stillness, and as Jesus' voice. 
 
 With its bewildering sweetness, met the ear 
 
 Of His disciples, it vibrated on 
 
 Like the first whispers in a silent world. 
 
 2. They came on slowly. Heaviness oppress'd 
 The Saviour's heart, and when the kindnesses 
 Of his deep love were pour'd, he felt the need 
 Of near communion, for his gift of strength 
 Was wasted by the spirit's weariness. 
 
 He left them there, and went a little on. 
 And in the depth of that hushed silentness, 
 Alone with God, he fell upon his face, 
 And aa his heart was broken with rush 
 Of his surpassing agony and death. 
 
 3. Wrung to him from a dying universe. 
 
 Was mightier than the Son of Man could bear. 
 
 He gave his sorrows way — and in the deep 
 
 Prostration ot ills soul, breathed out the prayer, 
 
 " Father, if it be possible with thee. 
 
 Let this cup pass from me." Oh, hov/ a word. 
 
 Like the forced drops before the fountain breaks, 
 
 Stilleth the human agony ! 
 
 The Saviour felt its quiet in His soul ; 
 
 4. And though his strength v/as we.aknftSH, and the light 
 Which led him on till now was sorely dim. 
 
 The first 
 part is a 
 suggestive 
 desct'iption 
 of the night. 
 The second 
 part speakH 
 ofthenewil- 
 dering 
 sweetness of 
 Jesus' voice. 
 
 Jesus in His 
 extreme 
 sadness 
 seeks conso- 
 lation, but 
 finds the 
 disciples 
 asleep. He 
 returns to 
 His prayer 
 anJ falls 
 into His 
 agony. 
 
 In his utter 
 abandon- 
 ment He 
 sighs forth 
 a praver to 
 His Father. 
 He is how- 
 ever ready 
 to submit to 
 the Ftemul 
 Decree. 
 
 new 
 strength ., 
 
 lOTir "T i nr- -•'- ■ir^iiiir ii<i ii > < «a i tfr'i"H' i * »f 
 
r>. 
 
 GETHSEMANE, 
 
 He breathed a new submission—" Not my will 
 But thine be done, oh Father ! " As he spoke ' 
 Voices were heard in Heaven, and m- 3ic stole 
 Out from the chambers of the vaulted sky, 
 As if the stars were swept like instruments. 
 
 . No cloud was visible, but radiant wings 
 Were coming with a silvery rush to earth, 
 And as the Saviour rose, a glorious one, 
 Witli an illumined forehead, and the light 
 Whose fountain is the mystery of God 
 Encalm'd within his eye," .w'd down to him. 
 And nerved him with a ministry of strength.' 
 
 It was enough— and with his godlike brow 
 Re-written of his Father's messenger, 
 With meekness, whose divinity is more 
 Than power and glory, he return'd again 
 To his disciples, and awaked their sleep, 
 For " he that should betray him was at hand." 
 
 NathanMP. Willis. 
 
 29 
 
 from His 
 prayer, and 
 un angel ia 
 sent to con- 
 sole Him. 
 
 He rises 
 from His 
 prayer agio- 
 rious Hav- 
 iour, His 
 forehead 
 illumined, 
 and he is 
 nerved wlMf ' 
 a ministry 
 of strength. 
 
 With meek- 
 ness and re^ 
 signation, 
 Head- 
 vanees to- 
 ward His 
 disciples 
 and awakes 
 them, wani'. 
 ing them of 
 the traitor's 
 approach. 
 
 LITERARY ANALYSIS. 
 
 PERsoNAGEs.-Who is represented in this poem? 
 •liME AND Place.— Whe--^ md when? 
 
 Words and Aotions.-I. Where is the scene laid and how is it 
 
 described ? 
 
 2. What is heard in the stillness of the 
 awful night? 
 
 3. What does He seek in His loneliness ? 
 
 4. Does He receive the consolation and 
 why not ? 
 
 5. What follows? 
 
 6. What are tlie effects of His prayer? 
 
 7. What follows tho second prayer o( 
 submission to God's will? 
 
I 
 
 30 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 8. Does He receive renewed strength 
 from the angel's consolation ? 
 Result.— What ia the consequence and how does He come forth 
 
 from His prayer ? 
 Moral.— "What are the several lessons taught by our loving Sav- 
 iour, by the .sleep of the disciples, and the action of 
 the traitor ? • 
 
 Questions.—Where is Gethsemane? When did He go there to 
 pray ? What passed before His mental vision that so oppressed Him ? 
 What was the awful effect? Why did He seek consolation ? Was 
 He not God ? Did He suffer as God? Di(i nut our Lord warn His 
 disciples? Do you remember the words? Who were the three dis- 
 ciples He took with Him into the garden ? Why ? Where was the 
 traitor during this time ? Explain the full meaning of this line : 'As 
 sleep upon the pulses of a child . This line : 'Like the first whispers 
 in a Bilent world.' What is the metre of the poem ? Scan the first 
 stanza. 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on the Prayer of Jems in 
 the Garden, embellishing it by introdimm/ sqtne of the verses of this 
 poem. 
 
 JOAN OP ARC. 
 
 in-§u' gu-ra-ted, v. t, to introduce into an ogice with solemnity ; to 
 
 invest with an office in a formal manner. 
 in-v6l v)^, V. t, to imply ; to comprise ; to connect' 
 pa-tri-6t' i^, adj., full of patriotism; actuated by the love of our 
 
 country. 
 ■eSr' o-nets, «., a croim. 
 
 trfinaK i-to-ry, adj., passing without continuance ;fketiny. 
 a-e' ri-al, adj., belonging to the air or atmosphere. 
 ^ rath, M. violent anger ; indignation ; the just punishment of an offense 
 or crime. 
 
 j«^p' Srd, V. t, to hazard; to put in danger; to expose to loss or in- 
 jury. 
 ar-ti-n'cial, ailj.. artful contrivance; an artf,U or ingenim,^ device. 
 
 -"""^ — ~ ^""-f 1 tm Mtk 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 
 
 31 
 
 ■h solemnity ; to 
 
 4e love of our 
 
 What 18 to be thought of her ? What k to bo thought 
 of the poor shepherd-girP from the hills a.id forests of 
 Lorraine that— like the Hebrew shepherd boy« from the 
 hills and forests of Judea"— rose suddenly out of the quiet 
 out of the safety, out of the religious inspiration, rooted 
 m deep pastoral solitudes, to a station in the van of armies 
 and to the more perilous station at the right hand of 
 kings ? 
 
 The Hebrew boy inaugurated his patriotic mission by 
 an act, by a victorious act, such as no man could deny 
 But so did the girl of Lorraine, if we reaxi her story as it 
 was read by those who saw her nearest. Adverse armies 
 bore witness to the boy as no pretender ; but so they did 
 to the gentle girl. 
 
 Judged by the voices of all who saw them from a sta- 
 tion of good-will, both wero found true and loyal to any 
 promises involved in their first acts. Enemies it wa. that 
 made the difference between their subsequent fortunes 
 rhe boy rose to a splendor and a noonday prosperity' 
 both personal and public, that rang through the records 
 ot his people, and became a byword amongst his posterity 
 or a thousand years, until the sceptre was departing 
 irom Juda. ^ o 
 
 The poor, forsaken girl, on the contrary, drank not 
 herself from that cup of rest which she had secured for 
 prance. She never sang the songs that rose in her native 
 Domremy,^a« echoes to the departing steps of invaders, 
 fehe mingled not in the festal dances of Vaucouleurs,« which 
 celebrated in rapture the redemption of France No I 
 tor her voice was then silent. No! for her feet were 
 
 '13 
 
f"^ 
 
 32 
 
 HIGHER HEADER. 
 
 iili 
 
 Pure, innocent, nqble-liearted girl ! whom, IVom (^.irlioHt 
 youth, ever I believed in as lull of truth and Helt-.saerifice, 
 this was amongst the strongest pledges for thi/ side, that 
 never once — no, not for a moment of weakness — didst 
 thou revel in the vision of coronets and honor from man. 
 Coronets for thee ? ' 
 
 Oh, no ! Honors, if they come when all is over, are for 
 those that share thy blood. 
 
 Daughter of Domromy, when the gratitude of thy king 
 shall awaken, thou wilt be sleeping the sleep of the dead. 
 Call her, King of France,^ but she will not hear thee ! 
 When the thunders of universal France, as even yet may 
 happen, shall proclaim the grandeur of the poor shepherd- 
 girl that gave up all for her country, thine ear, young 
 shepherd-girl, will have been deaf for five centuries. 
 
 To suffer and to do ! that was thy portion in this life. 
 To do ! never for thyself, always for others. To suffer ! 
 never in the persons of generous champions, always in thy 
 own. That was thy destiny; and never for a moment 
 was it hidden from thyself. "Life," thou saidst, "is 
 short, and the sleep which is in the grave so long. Let 
 me use that life, so transitory, for the glory of those 
 heavenly dreams destined to comfort the sleep which is 
 so long." 
 
 Pure from every suspicion of even a visionary self- 
 interest, even as she was pure in senses more obvious, 
 neve> once did this holy child, as regarded herself, relax 
 from her belief in the darkness that wjia traveling to 
 meet her. She might not prefigure the very manner of 
 her death ; she saw not in vision, perhans the aerial 
 altitude of the fiery scaffold, the spectators without end, 
 
JOAN OF ARC, 
 
 33 
 
 0.1 every road, pouring into Rouen m to a coronation 
 the surgnig smoke, the volleying flames, the liontile faces 
 all around the pitying eye that lurked but here and 
 there until nature and imperishable truth broke loose 
 rom artificial rcstraints-these might not be apparent 
 hrough the mists of the liunying future ; but the voice 
 that called her to death— that she heard forever. 
 
 Great was the throne of France, even in those days 
 
 andgre^xtwas he that sat upon it; but wellJoan kn'ew 
 
 hat not the throne, nor he that sat upon it, was for her • 
 
 but, on the contrary, that she was for them ; not she bv 
 
 them, but they by her, Bnould rise from the dust. 
 
 Gorgeous were the lilies of France, and for centuries had 
 
 they the privilege to spread their beauty over land and 
 
 ■sea, until in another century, the wrath of God and man 
 
 combined to wither them; but well Joan knew-early at 
 
 Domremy she had read that bitter truth-that the lilies 
 
 of Fraiice would decorate no garland for her. Flower 
 
 nor bud, bell nor blossom, would ever bloom for her. 
 
 Having placed the king on his throne, it was her 
 fortune henceforward to be thwarted. More than one 
 military plan was entered upon which she did not 
 approve. Too well she felt that the end was nigh at hand. 
 St 11 she continued to jeopard her person in battle a« 
 be ore ; severe wounds had not taught her caution ; and 
 Ht length she was made prisoner by the Burgundians, 
 and finally given up to the English. 
 
 The object now was to vitiate the coronation of Charles 
 
 the Seventh as the work of a witch, and for this end " 
 •loan \vi" +*.c^J i?-„ — v^iio cnu 
 
 l,.rif ; """. '"' «"-<=<*i7- She resolutely defended 
 herself from the absnrd accusation. Never from the 
 
r 
 
 84 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 fouiidutioiis of tho earth wiis there such a trial as this, if 
 it wore laid open in all its beauty of defense and all its 
 malignity of attack. 
 
 child r)f France I shepherdess, peasant girl ! trodden 
 under foot by all around thee, how I honor thy fliushing 
 intellect, quick as the lightning and as true to its mark, 
 that ran before France and laggard Pjurope by many a 
 century, confounding the malice of the insnarer and 
 making dumb the oracles of fiilsehood ! " Would you 
 examine me as a witness against myself?" was the ques- 
 tion by which many times she defied their arts. The 
 result of this trial was the condemnation of Joan to be 
 burnt alive. , . 
 
 Woman, sister ! there are some things which you do 
 not execute as well as your brother, man — no, nor ever 
 will. Yet, sister, woman, cheerfully and with the love 
 that burns in depths of admiration, I acknowledge that 
 you can do one thmg as well as the best of men — you can 
 die grandly ! On the 20th of May 1431, being then 
 about nineteen years of age, Joan of Arc underwent her 
 martyrdom. She was conducted before mid-day guarded 
 by eight hundred spearm< n, to a platform of prodigious 
 height, constructed of wooden billets, supported by 
 occasional walls of lath and plaster, and traversed by 
 hollow spaces in every direction for the creation of 
 air-currents. 
 
 With an undaunted soul, but a meek and saintly de- 
 meanor, the maiden encountered her terrible fate. The 
 executioner had been directed to apply his torch from 
 
 t,„1 TT- :i- 1 mi <i -I , . . .. 
 
 uuu'w. ixc uKi iso. iiio UGiy omOKe lujsn upward in bii- 
 
J"AN OF AH(,'. 
 
 3,5 
 
 lowing volumes. A n.onk w,,., then .tandi,,,. ,.t .T„a„'„ 
 
 Wm,,t „,, in l,i, „„l,ii,„„ „ffi,.,_ ,,„ ^^^^ 
 lu ,t,U ,«r„Hto,l i„ l,i, ,„,.yor,. Ev.n thon.wh™ *e 
 h«t enemy w,,« r,«M„g „,, the ficy „t„irH to «,i«. he ■ 
 
 Thi: tT^T' ''/'"/''" -'•'-' "f«-l» think on; 
 (or hnn-tho one fr,en,l that wo«l,l not fo«ike luT-anfl 
 
 ™>t for herself, bi.Idin, him with h,- hu,t breath o Z^ 
 
 for hi, own preservation, Init to leave her to (M. 
 
 T y" "^T'',' "'"' ™''^ ■ "'"■' "J' ">« '^■•osshelore me thaf ' 
 I mav see It ilv nir ami «nent »„ „, ■ '"e, mat 
 
 end Her «„ amhWe word wa« the name of Je«„„ A 
 »old,er who had sworn to throw a fagot on the pile i-ned 
 
 oa\iour. He had seen, he .said i wl>,-f« i 
 
 U /» 1 ' "rtid, ,1 Wilite (love HOJir +n 
 
 heaven from the ashes where the hmve ,iri had ,Z_ 
 
 Thmttaa de Quiney. 
 
 l.er fortune^: LTg pTSe Ch f Vn""'"" '^'"" ™ 
 
 the result onKial% How d /l r" i'"'" '" ^"- ^^^' ^"^ 
 
 What are the feeTn J an7 1 ^V^"* '''"'^ ""^ "^^^ 
 
 monk who a tent hiT m^^^^^ Tf ^'^ ^^^^'"^«^^ ^ ^^^^ 
 
 did they produce ufon on fi'^^''*''''^''*"^^^^^*«ff^^^ 
 <=jr pxuuuce upon one of In^r HAfarr.>;r.«.i „„-_-• r. -„^ 
 
 tl.. heromes of the Chui^h to-day /oTcanada ? '" " '' '"''" "'' 
 
36 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Require th^pupU to write a short composition on Joan of Arc in- 
 troduang hy way of contrast the facts given in the notes. ' 
 
 NATURE. 
 
 ^^If'^^^^^^-'^^'^y^^^^^^'^^^^-; numerous; of diverse kiMs. 
 
 a nai o-gy. „ «„ agreenmit between things in some eireumstances of 
 
 ir. ii^,i f ' *^^ '*''*^* *'**^ otherwise quite different. 
 
 in-fin'l-mate, adj., void of animation or life. 
 
 ca^ms, n., stillness; quiet ; freedon, from motion, agitation. 
 Ot^gy'^nt, adj., floating ;Hffht. 
 
 phe-nSm'e-na, n.,„n appearance; anything visible; whatever is 
 discmjered to exist. 
 
 ^f':!'^:-^^''^'^^'i-^yrn-, capacity for change. 
 
 Trf ^it" *;/*L^'?''''""*' '^'''^'' *^ ^ivming of the head. 
 
 «hS§m, n., a cleft ; a flmtre ; a void space ; vanity. 
 tarn§, n., a mountain lake ; a pool ; a boy ; a marsh. 
 
 The diverse aspects of nature, like the manifold mean- 
 ings of art, are so many voices which penetrate the heart 
 and speak to the intelligence. Everything in the visible 
 world-the world which we see and hear-^xpresses the 
 heart s thought or responds thereto. It is the old story 
 in another language ; for nature, too, is what the fall of 
 man has. made it. Its scenes and effects have a myste- 
 rious analogy with the dispositions we bear within-both 
 with those we would resist and those whose triumph we 
 would secure. ^ 
 
 The result of this connection is that this inanimate, in- 
 sensible nature is not without its effects on us— that our 
 
 mora, impressions depend upon it, and it does us good 
 
 or 
 
 '1^1.^ 
 
NATURE. 
 
 . S7 
 
 te; whatever is 
 
 cauaes to eirclate in our vei„« the pi "'.7/ """' ' 
 taina with its swift and h,,ov»nt W f ^® '"°""- 
 
 breezos of the .valley with thl' «^' "■■ *" P^*"'^^ 
 yield to the influence he X ^''^'^"'\^f^'^<^^^- Wo 
 in our sight. phenomena which it displays 
 
 The rocks, piled a,fd jal^d L ^fTT^ '''•'"™^ 
 remind us of other terrible a!dW; "^ **^ **"?<*'*«■ 
 «ei.es us on steep and lot hi ^t"f TT" ^^'-"S" 
 row horizon fatigues the Lit' * "''^'^ ^'«J ■'«- 
 
 »oul requires a futZ Tr^.T? ' '"'"»'"" ^P*^" >>- tl><^ 
 or the\lps, tranr^H.'^rSTurr'^ °'' *•>« -an, 
 heavens beyond the clouds • Irj t^"" °^ °""^"- 
 even from admiration, fo:oes'ife':^ :!;: t' ""^ "' -'' 
 
 '•ont-the running st;eam whtl makef '7"'« *°" 
 much-the river which flow *„to tl^^ ? "' ^"^"^ ^ 
 ^vely, and as if to assure the fl *'"*• ^''^«'"='- 
 
 we pause on the Xe rfth ^''''"°'' "^ ""'delves, 
 
 wonderful sheets whoraslf ronrl'"' ''""-"'°- 
 •Hises the tone of our mcdttf r'"""" "'"' *"•<"'<=, 
 and harmonious mo Jn^tlw "'^ , ^" ™'='' * *™»1«" 
 more perfectly thTi^Z^^^^^^'^^"" '<^Vor.^ton. 
 
 recesses of the'^mrt^nrwhof? "'"" '>''l<'«n "• the 
 azure sky. "' *'"''" S'^««y ^rface is another 
 
 What thought and feeling does it not awaken,-that 
 
38 
 
 SIGHER READER. 
 
 Mirti !i 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 i 
 < 
 
 solitary, remote, silent, nameless lake ! Pure limpid waters 
 in a verdant cup,— a single gknce takes in their charming 
 unity. Living, but restrained within limits which they can- 
 not pass, they seem like wisdom reconciled to necessity. 
 Ask the lake the secret of its deep inner life, and it an- 
 swers by the rich vegetation of its border. Life and its 
 blessings are everywhere on its banks, and in its bosom : 
 danger, nowhere. The wave upon its surface stirs not 
 the golden sands of its bed ; it hides no ruins, for it has 
 seen no shipwreck. 
 
 Sophia S. Swetchine. 
 
 Questimis.— What do you remark of the aspects of nature ? What 
 is understood by the term nature in this lesson ? What is the myste- 
 rious analogy mentioned ? What is analogy ? What is the result ol 
 this connection ? What shall we find in this book of nature ? What 
 are its effects? How does its grand perturbability effect us? How 
 do the ocean and the Alps move us ? What do we on the shores 6f 
 peaceful lakes? How is it that we live in restrained limits? Give 
 ihe concluding words about the lake. Where are the Alps? "What 
 great monastery is built on the Alps ? "Why ? Do you know any instances 
 of the hospitality of the monks of that monastery ? Can you situate 
 the Alps ? Mention the countries or country through which the Alps 
 extend. What mountains in Asia compare favorably with them ? 
 What celebrated generals crossed the Alps ? 
 
 Require the pupU to write a descriptive Letter of Nature, poirUing 
 out such spots as are remarkable for their beauty, grandmr, or 
 iublimity. Let him point out such favored places in Canada. 
 
 Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; 
 
 Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen; 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. — Gray. 
 
MAN — THE NOBLE. 
 
 39 
 
 MAN—THE NOBLE. 
 
 1. Honor and shame from no condition rise. 
 Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 
 Fortune to men has some small difference made- 
 One flaunts in rags, one flutter in brocade ; 
 The cobbler aproned, and the p ^son gowned, 
 The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned ;' 
 
 2. What differ more, you . , ^han crown and cowl^ 
 I'll teU you, friend-e ...o mm and a fool ! 
 You'll find, if once the monarch act 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 prunella ! 
 
 3. Look next on greatness ; say. where greatness lies • 
 Where, but among the heroes and the wise ! 
 
 Heroes are much the same, it is agreed, 
 From Macedonia'sio madman to the Swede ; n 
 The whole strange purpose of their lives to find. 
 Or make an enemy of all mankind. 
 
 i. Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave. 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave ; 
 Who noble ends by noble mean., nbto... 
 Or. failing, smiles in exile and in chains; 
 
 Neither 
 wealth nor 
 position 
 makes the 
 man. 'Man 
 is a man for 
 a' that'. 
 
 NobiUtf of 
 character, 
 goodness of 
 heart, and 
 true wi»< 
 dom corsti- 
 tiite real 
 worth. 'All 
 that glitters 
 is not gold.' 
 
 Disinterest- 
 edness of 
 purpose, 
 purity of 
 Intention, 
 Integrity 
 and fidelity, 
 toward God 
 and man, 
 constitute 
 true great- 
 ness. 
 
 The true 
 heroes con- 
 temns 
 deceits, de- 
 spises con- 
 ceit6,Lun(ir8 
 virtue, and 
 applauds 
 the good. 
 
40 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ' ' Like good A"-f)liu8,i"'i let him reign, or bleed, 
 Like Socrateb,i8 that mail ia great indeed. 
 
 He Bufff rs 
 for God aud 
 conntiy. 
 
 5. What'3 fame ? a fancied life in other's breath — 
 A thing beyond ua even before our death. 
 All that we know of it begina and enda 
 In the small circle of our foes and frienda. 
 To all beside, as much an empty shade. 
 An Eugenei* living, as a Caesari^ dead ; . 
 
 Alike, or when, or where, they shone or shine, 
 Or on the Rubicon.^ or on the Rhine. ■ ' ■ 
 A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod ; 
 An honest man 'a the noblest work of God ! 
 
 Alexander Pope. 
 
 All things 
 are transi- 
 iory ; all 
 honors 
 short-lived. 
 The glory 
 of the world 
 illusory ; 
 eternit; a 
 reality. He 
 who work- 
 ed, having 
 an' ultimate 
 end In view, 
 is the only 
 true hero 
 worthy our 
 esteem and 
 admiration. 
 
 LITERARY ANALYSIS. 
 
 , Peeson AGES. r- Who is the person represented as speakiu^ ? 
 
 Time and Place.— When and where is he represented as speak- 
 ing? 
 
 V7oRDS AND Actions.— 1. Does the counsel given refer to any par- 
 i ' ticular station in life ? 
 
 2. Who are the persona contrasted in the 
 first stanza? 
 
 3. Of what actions -does he apeak in th^ 
 second stanza? And of what persons ? 
 
 4. What says he in the third stanza con- 
 cerning greatness ? Heroea ? 
 
 5. What actions are, mentioned in the 
 fourth stanza? Who is mentioned? 
 
 G. What is fame? What doeahesavof 
 
He BufftTii 
 for Ood aud 
 country. 
 
 All things 
 are transi- 
 tory ; all 
 honors 
 short-llted. 
 The glory 
 of the world 
 illusory ; 
 eternitjr a 
 reality. He 
 who worlc- 
 ed, having 
 an' ultimate 
 end in view, 
 is the only 
 true hero 
 worthy our 
 esteem and 
 admiration. 
 
 sakiug? 
 
 ated as speak - 
 
 jfertoanypar- 
 
 itrasted in the 
 
 ! speak in thf! 
 (rhat persons ? 
 rd stanza con- 
 )es ? 
 
 tionpd in the 
 mentioned? 
 does he sav of 
 
 QUESTIONS AND COMPOSITION. 41 
 
 RrauLT.-What concliBion is arrived at aft„ j • 
 
 Mo,A.._What are the exoellent ]«»„, i„™|,a,«i ? ' 
 
 or«pu.ati„„ change tJei„S7J fir rV' "^ '■'''""'■ ''°»"' 
 preted ? What are tlmZZTl \ "'"' '""* » " «» •« m«et- 
 Ll differ/what iTtrlr ?f ' '" "'>»'0°'="wn and 
 greatne^ ? , Why Jrthl ir Tf.*" '"''■"""" ' '«">.* is true 
 •sense »e™ the/ "r/ Wet T t" ""' "^"^ 8™" '» ""»' 
 *owit?:D„thISm„m """' '«^'« "K'h? How can you 
 
 toe? Why doe, he ca C :,,!/ wt . ".tr "^ '"''"^'^ 
 yo^mention several antithes,^;ive„rtL-, J^Lrr"'"*"''' f" 
 Low a wit's a feather, and a chirf a ix^rw'^ j '^'"' >""" ""P""" 
 tatjine? The eleventh line rWhaH. ,1, '"'" ''P'™ ""> 
 
 «>'neline? Show how "" h„„ , ^'""''"'"« "' *'"°«' ™ «>, 
 
 Who was the jL^:„i; i°i7^;*'■r°'""^"?*°'««*• 
 
 What do you know conJ™?„!; Tl "?"'*'*°>">" know of him? 
 Eugene? Caesar rTheTSn, Wh.rt' ^""'''^*' ^""-?' 
 
 i" the casing Of that ^^iLZ^i:^:^:^':'"''^'^^ 
 
 '. Hanihal, a Caemr T R? "^'^"^!>'y ¥ m Alexander, 
 
42 
 
 HIGHEE READER. 
 
 BIALIBRAN AND PIERRE. 
 
 pttb'lish-er, n., one who aenda a book or toriting into the world. 
 Itix'u -'^y, n., anything delightful to the senses. 
 m Jrr'i. ad. a^. , a very great number. 
 dei^^n^d, v., t, condescended. 
 
 In a humble room, in one of the poorest streets of 
 London, little Pierre, a fatherless French boy, sat hum- 
 ming by the bedside of his sick mother. There was no 
 bread in the closet, and for the whole day he had not 
 tasted food. Yet he sat humming to keep up his spirits. 
 Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, 
 and he could scarcely, keep the tears from his eyes ; for 
 he knew nothing would be so grateful lo his po. r, sick 
 mother as a good, sweet orange— and yet he had not a 
 penny in the world. 
 
 The little song he was singing was his own,— one he 
 had composed with air and words ; for the child was a 
 genius. 
 
 He went to the window, and looking out, saw a man 
 putting up a great bill with yellow letters, announcing 
 that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public. 
 
 " If I could only go, " thought little Pierre ; and then, 
 pausing a moment, he clasped his hands. His eyes light- 
 ed with a new hope. Running to the little stand, he 
 smoothed down his yellow curls, and taking from a Uttle 
 box some old stained paper, gave one eager glance at his 
 mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house. 
 
 * * * 
 
 "Who did you say is waiting for me?" said the lady to 
 her servant. "I am already worn with company." 
 
saw a m&Ti 
 
 MALIBEAN AND PIERRE. 43 
 
 "It is only a very pretty little boy with yellow curls 
 who says I he can see you he is sure you will not be sorry' 
 and he will not keep you a moment." ^ 
 
 " Well let him corne, " .said the beautiful singer, with 
 a smile ; " I can never refuse children." 
 
 Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm, and in 
 his hand a little roll of paper. With manliness miusual 
 for a child, he walked straight to the lady, and bowinc 
 said: I come to see you because my mother is ve^^ 
 
 ho^ht that If you would only sing my little song at 
 some of your grand concerts, perhaps some publisher 
 would buy It for a small sum, and so I could get food and 
 medicine for my mother." 
 
 The excellent woman rose from the seat,-very tall 
 and stately she wa.,-took the little roll from his hand 
 and lightly hummed the air. • ' 
 
 "Did you compose it?" she a^ked; my dear child ^ 
 And the words? — ^' Wonlfl vnn i.i.^ / . "-"uu . 
 
 PPrf 9 " cln. 1 J r ^ ^^^^ *^ ^^"^^ *o ^y con- 
 
 cert ? she asked, after a few moments of thought. 
 
 pinl?l''blA"i'^r/'^V^'' ^''^ ^''^^' ^i*h hap- 
 piness,— but I could not leave my mother." 
 
 "I will send somebody to take care of your mother 
 for the evening ; and here is a crown, with which yoTmay 
 go and get food and medicine. Here is also on'eof .^ 
 Mets; come to-night; that willadmit you to aseatnear, 
 
 Pierre could scarcely realize his good fortune. He 
 o\7i^!r/.r^?' -^ --y - little luxury besides. 
 'Z TJ '"""^^ *^ *^^ P^^r invalid, telling her' 
 
 not without tears, of what had happened. 
 
44 
 
 HIGHER READEli. 
 
 Mi 
 
 seemed to wor,,h,p, would really sing his little song-^ ^, 
 
 b ju eye L„«, With ti:: jtjSa-r ^i,^ 
 
 b..tthetouch,„g words ofthatlittlesong-O.sotoueS 
 
 daSTlrl' iTIidtrrd" \^'''' ^^""^ ■^- 
 
 certain amount from the ile iittk P has realised a- 
 
 The noble-hearted sinffer and +)io\^^ 
 aether A. +n P- ^,^ ■ *^^ P^or woman- wept to- 
 gether. As to Pierre -always mindful of Him who 
 
5le Innd 
 ^ it, and 
 
 gitr It 
 
 - many a 
 be heard 
 Jtiching ! 
 
 the air. 
 inger^in 
 ads had 
 
 3pt to- 
 t who 
 
 QUESTIONS. 4- 
 
 nobiHt„l 1 : * 7 *''.^. f of ^^'^nd'., 
 Heath, he wl>o stood WW M ,tlT^T -^ '"■'PPy 
 lightened her last moment^ bv hkT. '7'"°*' ""<> 
 <he little Pierre of forrrl/, n ^' T ^^^*'»»'^'^'-'- 
 ».>d the ,„ost tale„tedZi^:7tI dj' "^°""'"*^^' 
 
 ..aCZd ir ur tor t- ''■-■^ '''^^ '"«" ■ 
 
 less child. ^ "'" "'"*"*' ""d *e father- 
 
 Anonymoua. 
 
 Ho. did Pien. chart lerrj^rtf™''.""""-- ' ' 
 How was he receivej? What wLTk , *" «""' »'"'««'■? 
 
 How did she answer them^We S!"'!""' T* f ""> *" ? 
 i'all. IVhat thoughts occurredThi f^r. ''''"^"'^'""'''""rt- 
 'l-oed by singing U,e sS^tl , ^'"' ""^ ^^ »«■«*■ P«>- 
 
 «...« Of L V, it^f Mair k^^XTi t ' Wt ^°'; ^" '»^ ■ 
 bedside when she was dying? How m»n k ! ''^ '^* ^^ ^'^'* 
 little narration? Can you five fhrr^/Tf'^ '"**''' ^"^^ this 
 little Pie.e? What CJlIe J^:;^^^^^^^^^^^ Of 
 
 -V^^ oA^^. gi.enfa,l ^ '^' ^'"'^^'''' <^f^iefly,upm the rLraZ 
 
 Howe'er it be, it seems to me ■-•■•: \ 
 
 'Tis only noble to be good : • . - ■ 
 
 ■ - . -- Kind. hfiarf..« QlV>.yy>„ X\ ' . 
 
 . -^raOictiian. coronets. I 
 
 . . ... . And »,„p,etoH than Neman b,o«.._r«,„^^ ■ .^, 
 
 I !l 
 
 ■ ^1 
 
46 
 
 HIGHER RRADER. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT ANTS.— I. 
 
 spl' ral, a., winding. 
 
 In' dt-vld' u-al, »., o,«, ,„„„ . „ „.„^/^ „„^ 
 
 «on-dSmi<^i^d', r. <., 8e«<e»cerf to punishment. 
 re-§Ist' an?*^, n., opposition. 
 
 Tn'^^a^Id ^''2i,"' " T""" ''•^^'•''"'^' *'"-^ «" -/^A/- 
 
 The behavior of anta toward one another differ, much 
 Mcordmg to crcumstances-whether, for instance, they 
 are alone, or supported by friends. An ant whieh would 
 run away m the first case, will defend itself bravely in the 
 
 On one occasion, several ants belonging to one of mv 
 
 glas8_ One of them had got thoroughly entangled in it 
 I took her and put her down just in front of another in- 
 dividual belonging to the same nest, and dose by I 
 placed a drop of honey. "»« oy i 
 
 The ant devoted herself to the honey and entirelv 
 neglected her friend, whom she left to perish th ^ 
 chloroformed one, and put her on the board among he" 
 
 foHt or tr' i*""*'' '"^' '^'^ *'"'^ ' watched'them 
 fc two or three hours, none took any particular notice 
 
 On the other hand, I have only on onfe occasion seen a 
 ^' ' ' ^^^"^ ^^' "^si^- i Observed once an 
 
FACTS ABOUT ANTS. ^^ 
 
 ant airrying another hv.lonmnn to tho M..m 
 
 away from the neat. The c Jdemn. T T"'""^'^ 
 
 feeble resistance. ««"^^«mnea ant ma.le a very 
 
 The lirst ant carried her hnnUn huu , , . 
 
 for sometime, evidently tryL to t aw, ST ■ """""■ 
 which wa, endowed by a barrier of far Vr '"' T"' 
 for .some time, I proviLl the It wif , '"''"'''"» 
 
 which she immediaj; ; t dro f^ ^f'"^'-, ''"'%«. "P 
 f-- aide, and returned home ' CoSi, havT 1"" " "'" ' 
 jnw.^ana^edorinvaHdantwa.tin'^T.X 
 
 n-ts. I took six ant, from"! ^Jy'ZZTl': 
 
 ST " ;." ' ^"'^' ""^ ""' of whiifiTove :." 
 
 With a layer of musl n. I then nnf ih Z ^overea 
 
 the door of the nest TIu. ! r^ '""'^'^"^ "^^'^ *« 
 
 ui ine nest. Ihe muslin was of onen tevhir^ 
 
 -he. bnt eon,d^,° _:„:- - r^itHC 
 
 We now watched to see whethpr tU^ • 
 l« tended or fed by their tld KuT; Ir'' 
 however, that the least notice w.« talcen o, tL '11'' 
 expenment, nevertheless, was less oonolusl th^n u 
 he w«hed, because they might have beeT rat 'iZf 
 at some time when we were not lookinir ., \ ,' 
 t erefore, that it would be i^tl^s^'g to Vr^;': tre 
 strangers also in the same manner. ^ 
 
 Accordingly, 1 p„t two ants from oneofmy nest« into a 
 
48 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 m.4 
 
 lip 
 
 ; 
 
 hoiio t\u' ..n.l of which WMs tied u|, with niiiHlin, m .le 
 ,, .scrihed uKl lai.l it down close to the nest. In a second 
 
 fJOttle I put two ants from another nest of the same 
 J species The ants which were at liberty took no notice 
 
 01 the bottle containing their imprisoned friends. The 
 
 strangers in the other bottle, on the contrary, excited 
 
 them eonsiderably. 
 
 The whole day, one, two, or more ants stood sentry m 
 It vvere, over the bottle. In the evening no I.ss than 
 twelv^e were collected around it-a larger number than 
 usually came out of the nest at any one time. The whole 
 ot the next two days, in the same way, there were several 
 ants round the bottle containing the strangers; while, as 
 tar. as we could see, no notice whatever was taken of the 
 friends. 
 
 Seven days after, the ants had eaten through the muslin 
 and effected an entrance. We did not chance to .be on the 
 spot at the moment; but a.s I found two ants lyinif 
 dead-one in the bottle and one just outside-I think that 
 there can be no doubt that the strangers were put to 
 death. The friends throughout were quite neglc^cted. 
 
 In one of my nests, was an ant without antenna 
 Never having previously met with such a case, I watched 
 her with great interest ; but she never appeared to leave 
 the nest. At length, one day, I found her wandering 
 about in an aimless sort of manner, and apparently not 
 knownig her way at all. After a while she fell in with 
 some specimens of the little yellow ant, that directly at- 
 tacked her. "^ 
 
 I at once set myself to separate them ; but owinir either 
 to tne wounds she had received from her enemies, or to 
 
I-'ACTS ABOUT ANT. .„ 
 
 W.W evi(l,.ntly iniich wn,i,„I„i ""«■ "' '" Itrth, she 
 
 l'"- "|. gently H,. 3 
 
 would uL iL dim, ? ': ;2 ","" "'" '>™'- I' 
 
 Ming«. " " " '" «"» ".it th« ,KW. »i„„ „!• |„.,„„„^ 
 
 wore i„ oramp«U 1 :'■;;:;'*: '<> --. The !„«» 
 up in spirals. She wa» of',! , "" ""'"'"'•'<' '-""^d 
 
 «..-«d herself. A^r U.t'l L,""' ""°8"*«'- ""'*k to 
 time. I tried undve ^ tte^r" ''"■ '•'™- 
 *'«• The other ant, ioT^Z , .*' "°'" *'"^'-" ^1« 
 parts. '^" '^'•"'"i l>«r into the shaded 
 
 One day the ants were all out „f .j 
 -'• air, and had collect j ^^ ;:'' ""'"'^'^ '- 
 l«.t ; they h,id not howcw. ^ S^^"*"^ '" '' «>nier of the 
 
 '•i<Hi her With them.' tolk 'offT"'^'; '^ I"" '>'«' -- 
 ^'■"i after a while they ret„™e,I f*"' '"' "f"'" •>». 
 
 •- in again. The n^xTd^* wl™,: irar'" T' ''*'"« 
 aiterward, notwithstandin/.,! UlT '™' ''»' shortly 
 
 At the present ttoe 1 1, 1'tl "T *' '"'^'■ 
 
 "t the exiled or „„,n J^!.., ''^™' ""o. «»'« ™I li..< ho„ev ■, Wh". 
 immi , "'' »'" •■ now Old the «~< — • » "•.' ' " ' 
 
 ■'■<l 
 
 WM made to («st tlie atfectt 
 
 first act ? What 
 01. of ants? What was thp 
 
 exper- 
 reault 
 
50 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 of the observations? What was the experiment resorted to ? What 
 was the action of the ants ? Describe the observations made What 
 about the ant with an antennae ? What effect had separation ? What 
 fact waa observed on another occasion ? Give a description of it. 
 
 Let the pupil write a letter to his friend describing some of these 
 facts. Let him recite the lesson in his own language. 
 
 FACTS ABOUT ANTS.— n. 
 
 Is' o-lat-ed, v. t, placed by itself; alone 
 
 de-v«l' opi^d, V. t, formed by natural growth ; matured. 
 
 ^&T^'V^e,n,in9ed8 which have first left the egg. 
 mQ^t, n., a ditch. , ; 
 
 mold, n , soft earth. 
 
 ^S.P'il'la-ry,atif., fine, like a hair. >^ 
 
 im-Yners)s^d', v. t., dipped into. 
 
 ^t-'tr&<:'iion,n., the act of drawing toward. 
 
 min' i-n^Izi^, v. t., to reduce to the smtllest amount 
 
 expS' di-ent, n., meoiw; proper. , 
 
 In' ter-po$^', v. t, to put between; to interfere. 
 
 I have made a number of experiments on the power of 
 smell possessed by ants. I dipped camel's-hair into pep- 
 permint-water, " essence of cloves, " lavender-water, i* and 
 other strong scents, and suspended them about a quarter 
 of an inch above the strips of paper along which the ants 
 were passing in the experiments before recorded. 
 
 Under these circumstances, while some of the ants pass- 
 ed on without takin^^ any notice, others stopped when 
 they came close to the pencil, and evidently perceiving 
 the smell, turned back. Soon, however, they returned and 
 passed the scented pencil. After doing this two or three 
 •■' '■■'*^> 5'-ncia.iij- tuua. J iurouer nonce oi tne scent. 
 
r some of these 
 
 i-^ACTS ABOUT ANTS. gj 
 
 This experiment left no donhf ^« • , 
 
 make the matter even more otr r 7 """'' T' *° 
 ante placed on an isolated strUfpap r ''ovH'^ *"'' 
 and at sach a distance as almost but ^ . ^ ^'P"?"''' 
 any ant which passed u^'t f "°' '»"'*''» *''>'<^1' 
 camel's-hair brush dioned in I j ^*'" ™»P«'>'l«d a 
 cloves, and other Ltr ''™''^^'-^''^^. ^^noe of 
 
 anlioomx th^ r:"^- "^^^ ^^-^ ■""■'^^; 
 
 those circumstanrs i'^,atvfthrr°l!''^ T' ""''- ' 
 their power of smell. '''^'"^'' ^""''t «« to 
 
 koard'b;ltr:J"Ve?srhLt '^'^"^^ "^ °" ^ 
 her with some tuning-forl, but tf .T' ■*"'"'' ^ '"'^ 
 in the least. I then adZ;^ ^^.*^ ""' *='"l' ''or 
 aa almost to toarLu'e f Z.^''?*' ^''^ 1"'"%' «» 
 
 toan., which, hotet/dM'n^'moTe''''' ''''^^ "'*'"-''- 
 
 i.* I then'experimelteTw tt ZlTr'"'". ^'"^^'- 
 with a second ant. The resul , „ *! *™"''"'' ^-"^ 
 
 , Many of my other e:;:^^'^:: ^ ''''"'■ 
 elusion; and in f«Pf +1,^ ""* P'^^"^ to the same con- 
 
 -'.«-the::ni«::s,rhiSdrdeX^^^^^ 
 ^^etrjmttCLfwt^^-'n-^^^^^^ 
 
 -rtain some object which "wo'Tldlll ^" ^^ - 
 then to mterpose some *ot„ele v-b 1, . 'T '"'"' "'"^ ' 
 
 would enable them toovero™'! i the V'"", '"«'"""y 
 
 vfcicome. I therefore placed some 
 
52 
 
 HIGHER EEADER. 
 
 \\l' 
 
 "i' h 
 
 larvae in a cup, which I put on a slip of glass surrounded 
 by water, but accessible to the ants by only one pathway, 
 in which was a bridge consisting of a strip of paper two- 
 thirds of an inch long and one-third of an inch wide. 
 
 Having then put a black ant from one of ray nests near 
 these larvas she began carrying them off, and by degrees 
 a number of friends came to help her. I then, when about 
 twenty-five ants were so engaged, moved the little paper 
 bridge slightly, so as to leave a chasm just so wide that 
 the ants could not reach across. They came and tried 
 hard to do so ; but it did not ocviur to them to try the paper 
 bridge, though the distance was only about one-third of 
 an inch, and they might easily have done so. After try- 
 ing for about a quarter of an hour, they gave up the at- 
 tempt and returned home. This I repeated several times. 
 
 Then thinking that paper was a substance to which 
 they were not accustomed, I tried the same with a bit of 
 straw one inch long and one-eight of an inch wide. The 
 result was the same. I repeated this more than once. 
 
 Again, I suspended some honey over a nest of yellow 
 ants, at a height of about half an inch, and accessible only 
 by a paper bridge more than ten feet long. Under the 
 gla^s I then placed a small heap of earth. The ants soon 
 swarmed over the earth on to the glass, and began feed- 
 ing on the honey. I then removed a little of the eartli, 
 so that there was an interval of about one-third of an inch 
 between the glass and the earth ; but though the distance 
 was so small, they would not jump down, but preferred to 
 go down by the long bridge. 
 
 They tried in vain to stretch up from the earth to th(^ 
 glass, which, however, wai=i just out of their rpft.ch thou"-!) 
 
FACTS ABOUT ANTS. ^o 
 
 had moved only hXt » T' ""'' *""«'' '^ *W 
 -„red ,.r theL^e:dieC:: TeS ^^ "T 
 they gave np all attempts to reaeh unto *.' ^* '""«'*'' 
 went around by the paper bridge I ll L ^ '*'' '""' 
 for several weeks, biit thev oontt, V "^ngement 
 
 long paper bridg;. ^ ""'^ «<> ~'"'d by the 
 
 on a small piece of wood ': t Td'e Kifr '""^^ 
 glycerme »half an inch wide »„^ t ? '"" "°°* °f 
 inch in depth. Ove thh 1 Tj '^T °'"'-*™*'' "^ » 
 Wge, one end of wh oh Cted o " ^^'^ ^ ?*?» 
 then p,, an ant to the t^^, ::„7,L '" "t' ' 
 collected round it. ^^® ^^^^^ was 
 
 which I had plaeelret:;:.- ;tfo: ttt °f ^ -f 
 more surprised at this, on accounfof M,l "' "'" 
 
 ;« t% avaa themselves r^lterS^ 
 
 »eofmy communities wrttTtl^r'''.' ^™PP««1 
 of earth a piece of hnenone ! \ '^"nta'nnig, instead 
 
 ^beyond the .ame a^ritmCVlr 'Cr '' 
 Hien sucked ud the watpr l.,, -n "^"^ "^en, 
 
 fl,p „,-. • ., 7 ^^'^ ^^^^"^ ^y capillary attrnctinn ,,,4 ^•^-^ 
 •^^ ^-i" in die fra.nes Avas kept moist." "'" 
 
54 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 The ants approved of this arrangement and took up 
 their quarters in the frame. To minimize evaporation, I 
 usually closed the frame all round, leaving only one or 
 two small openings for the ants ; but, in this case, I left 
 the outer side of the frauie open. 
 
 The ants, however, did not like being thus exposed ; 
 they therefore brought earth from some small distance, 
 anu built up a regular wall along the open side, blocking 
 up the space betwen the upper and lower plates of glass, 
 and leaving one or two small openings for themselves. 
 This struck me as very ingenious. The same expedient 
 was, moreover, repeated under similar circumstances by 
 the slaves belonging to my nest of Amazon ants. 
 
 Sir John Lubbock. 
 
 Question. — What experiments did he make to test their sense crt 
 emell ? Can you describe the action of the ants ? What other experi- 
 hients did he make to be certain ? Can you give the results of these 
 experiments ? What did he do with a large queen ? How did the ant 
 act toward the essence of musk ? How did he test their intelligence? 
 What are larvae ? How did the blaok ant behave toward the larvae ? 
 How did the experimenter act ? What did he do with the yellow 
 ants ? Describe the action of the ants ? How did he vary the experi- 
 ment ? To what did he resort to keep the earth constantly moist ? 
 Did the ants accept it ? Did the ants object to the outer frame being 
 opened ? What was che action on the part of the ants ? What is gly- 
 cerine ? Lavender-water ? The essence of muak ? Peppermint-water ? 
 What lessons are taught us by the ants ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on the Atits, taking what- 
 ever impressed him most in the lesson. 
 
 Our doubts are traitors, 
 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
 
 By leai'iug to utleinpt. — Shakespeare. 
 
ST. PETER'8 at ROME. 
 
 ^16 
 
 ST. PETER'S AT ROME. 
 
 1. But lo ! the dome-the vast and wondrous dome 
 o which Djana's mighty marvel was a cell- ' 
 Chnsts mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb i 
 1 have beheld the Ephesian's miracle- ' 
 
 Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell 
 The hyaena and the jackal in their shade • 
 I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell' 
 Their glittering maas i' the sun, and have survey'd 
 Its sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem pray'd. 
 
 2. But thou, of temples old, or altars new 
 Standest alone-with nothing like to thee- 
 Worthiest of God, the holy and the true 
 bince Zion's desolation, when that He 
 Forsook his former city, what could be, 
 Of earthly structures, in his honor piled 
 Ofasublimeraspect? Majesty 
 Power, Glory. Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled 
 In tbs eternal ark of worship undefiied 
 
 Enter : its grandeur overwhelms thee not • 
 And why ? it is not lessen'd ; but thy mind 
 Expanded by the genius of the spot 
 Has grown colossal, and can only find 
 A fit abode wherein appear enshrined 
 1 hy hopes of immortality ; and thou 
 Shalt one day if found worthy, so defined. 
 
 See thy God fece to face, as thou dost now 
 His Holy of Hohes, nor be blasted by his brow. 
 
 ^' LiW T*' ^"* ''''''''^^ ^^*^ ^^' distance. 
 Like climbing some creat A In v.hwx „i:ii ^ i) ■ 
 
 Deceived by its gigantic eleglnceT " ""' 
 
 Vastness which grows-but grows to harmoni^e- 
 
 .3, 
 
 The exceed- 
 ing grand- 
 eur, splen- 
 dor, and 
 wonder of 
 St. Peter's 
 Dome, and 
 its surpass 
 ing great- - 
 ness oTir 
 Diana's 
 Ephesian's 
 temples and 
 over the 
 basilica of 
 St. Sophia. 
 
 Since the 
 dett-uction 
 ofthe Tem- 
 ple of Jeru- 
 Halem, there 
 is none 
 worthier 
 and more 
 beautiful 
 than St Pe- 
 ter's at 
 Borne. 
 
 The interior 
 of St. Pe- 
 ter's exerts 
 a magical 
 influence 
 over mind 
 and heart, 
 inspiring 
 holy and 
 superaatu- 
 rafaspira- 
 tlon"). 
 
 Its marvel- 
 lous sreat. 
 ness. Its 
 wonderful 
 harmony, 
 its surpass- 
 ing rich- 
 
l.-*fl 
 
 56 
 
 HIGHER READ5JR. 
 
 All musical in ita immensities ; 
 Rich marbles — richer paintmg — shrines were flame 
 The lamps of gold, and haughty dome wliich vies 
 In air with Earth's chief structures, thou^^i their fr;> 
 Sits on the firm-set ground — ^and thii? the clouds must 
 claim. ■ ' 
 
 rfvtr.,^ 
 
 ness .md 
 beauif tend 
 to expand 
 the 80111. 
 
 f I 
 
 a. Thou K.' vst not all; hni ;uoceme'\] thou must break, 
 To separate ('ontemi ' cicn He gieat whole; 
 And as the ocean mari.y Wyf. will make, 
 That task 'he eye — so lit "3 -j.m'lf!ni«o thy soul 
 To more immediut* objeclF, . .nd conirol 
 Thy thoughts, uutii th-:^ jjdnd hath got by heart 
 Its eloquent proportions, and unroll 
 In mighty graduations, part by part, 
 The glory wh'i;h at once upon thee did not dark: 
 
 o. Not by its faults--but thine : Our outward sense 
 l3 but of gradual grasp — and as it is 
 Tiiat what we have of feeling most intense 
 Outstrips our faint expression ; even so this 
 Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice 
 Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great 
 Defies at first our Nature's littleness, 
 Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate 
 Our spirits to the size of that we contemplate. 
 
 Oeorge Gfordon, Lord Byron. 
 
 The fast- 
 ness of tht- 
 edifice, can 
 only be 
 properly 
 grasped by a 
 careful 
 study of it i 
 intricate, 
 yet wondfr- 
 All details. 
 
 Should we 
 fail to grasp 
 the whole in 
 its grand 
 and harmo- 
 nious pro- 
 portions, it 
 is not any 
 fault of this 
 wondrous 
 temple, but 
 rather our 
 , incapacity 
 for the 
 sublime. 
 
 QwesiJiow.— What is the subject of this lesson ? Where is St Peter's ? 
 Who was the architect of this celebrated cathedral? What Popes un- 
 dertook its construction ? In what does it greatness consist ? What u 
 said of the temples of Diana and of the EphesiansV What is said o. 
 Solomon's or Zion's Temple ? Cp" vou give a description of it f Wh< 
 other great Temple is mention ' Where is it and what <-^ 
 know of it ? Who was its archltt.c . What "reat cathedral is i • • ua- 
 da ? But what is it that so peculiarly strikes the visitor to St. Peto - , ' 
 To what is the wonderful height and magnitude compared ? .1. , 
 
nesa ,>.ad 
 beaut f tend 
 to expand 
 the Boiii. 
 
 The vast- 
 ness of thcr 
 edifice, can 
 only be 
 properly 
 grasped by a 
 careful 
 study of ill 
 intricate, 
 yet wonder- 
 All detaibi. 
 
 Should we 
 fail to f;rasp 
 the whole in 
 its grand 
 and harmo- 
 nious pro- 
 portions, it 
 Is not any 
 fault of this 
 wondrous 
 temple, but 
 rather our 
 . incapacity 
 for the 
 sublime. 
 
 i St Peter's? 
 t Popes un- 
 it? What IK 
 lat is said o. 
 jfit? Wh. 
 vhat <•'' v;' 
 I is i'i; •.'-.I'ua- 
 St.?eto-. ' 
 ired ? i.L , 
 
 does 
 
 WILD WAVES. 
 
 57 
 
 ^ grandeur impress the mind ? Why can nnf iv, ■ . 
 gran,, proportions at once? What nvIfC ''*' ""'"^ «^«8p its 
 
 soul at the sight of ite beauty ^nd Lml: T'ZT ^ *^' ^" *^« 
 the great Temple ? narmony / What is the purpose of 
 
 WHAT SAT THE WHJ) WAVES? " 
 
 Paul had never risen from his litn» v. j tt , 
 listening to the noises in 7^., ^^ ^^ ^"y *>>«»■«. 
 
 oaring much how he "im Z' TT '™"''"'"y ' »<" 
 washing everything alo^hir Ihl:::*:^ j* ^^ 
 
 golden water he knew tW • ''^^''''^^ ^^^^ i^^e 
 
 that the ^wtt^arirS Vt^rr^ 
 
 how the lo„g''::;etrere1:tte7;ith^^'' ''^ """'«'" 
 peaceful stars were shining ovXd HiT "1 ^T 
 ■strange tendency to wande!- to the H^r whi H' t'"' '^ 
 was flow ng throuffli +l,o «« ^ •! ' "^^ ^^ ^"ew 
 
 how black ft !t t,t f : ;;f;:f "- ''« thought 
 
 thehc^ts of st.a.-and n^oretS allTow s te'^l'f t." 
 away to meet the sea. ' ""^ steadily it rolled 
 
 As it grew later in the niffht an^ f^^f . ■ , 
 
 oame Borare that he AZlT^'" '"''"' '''''' 
 ^,. J , , "^^^ t^eni commcr. nonnt 
 
 viT^'^T 'T *^'^ "^ *^« hollow ^i;.:;:: 
 
 le and watch the many-colored 
 
 became 
 
 th 
 
 he 
 
 rings about the 
 
58 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 candle, and wait patiently for day. His only trouble was 
 the swift and rapid river. He felt forced sometimes, to 
 try and stop itr-to stem it with his childish hands— or choke 
 its way with sand — and when he saw it coming on, resist- 
 less, he cried out; but a word from Florence, who was 
 always by his side, restored him to himself; and leaning 
 his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, 
 and smiled. 
 
 When day began to dawn again, he watched for the sun; 
 and when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the room, 
 he pictured to himself — pictured! he saw — the high 
 church towers rising up in the morning sky, the town 
 reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river, 
 glistening as it rolled {Ut rolling fast as ever), and the 
 country bright with dew. Familiar sounds and cries 
 came by degrees into the street below. The servants in 
 the house were roused and busy; faces looked in at the 
 door, and voices asked his attendants softly how he was. 
 Paul always answered for himself, '' I am better. I am a 
 good deal better, thank you ! Tell papa so. " 
 
 By little and little, he got tired of the bustle of the day, 
 the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and 
 repassing; and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a 
 festless and weary sense again— the child could hardly 
 tell whether this was, in his sleeping or waking moments 
 —of that rushing river. " Why will it never stop, Floy ? " 
 he would sometimes ask her. " It is bearing me awav 
 r think!" ^' 
 
 But Floy could always soothe and re-assure him ; and 
 it was his daily delight to make her lay her head down 
 Dn his pillow, and take soirjp. rest. 
 
WILD WAVES. 
 
 59 
 
 " You are always watchine me Flor Tn+ 
 vov nnw f " Tk^ 11 ° ' "^" ^^^ nie watch 
 
 and whispering to those who werenenrtl^.TV ^'''.*'®^' 
 and how she W sat „p .„ ^alrn^trSr '"■^''' 
 
 .iXtt°LS;:"^';r "•"• ''«'>' --^ 
 
 lancing on the wall *^ ' «"''''" ^'"<»- ^»"'d •>« 
 
 —and the room was so quiet and Pn„l ,., i" "Setner 
 of them (though he nev^r It ! f "' '° observant 
 that he evelknew the ^ff ""y^'^y ^'■^t f'^y «aid), 
 
 watches. But ';ri„tsr:::,itTrLf t'- 
 
 ■iWhimforlt.- H:tirnoTlr'°^«"""°- ^« 
 
 hand. Old C Knl^ ? •* "".'* "''^ ''^ "P™ ''i^ 
 changed to^MirT^r^;",-''""'*'" '" ^^^ ''''^''•' "««» 
 content <« shut hreC!:' '""''/"'* ^'"" ^^ 'i^^ 
 next without emir T'th^/" ^''»' Vl-ned 
 upon its hand, returned so oV a^f "' ^'*. "^ ''^ 
 and sat so still and solemn, tvertt,!"^' ".'°"^' 
 «po.en to, and rare,, lifting „p .-^ ^^-^hl -[,-»« 
 
60 
 
 HIOHF, 
 
 \DKIl. 
 
 I 
 
 to wander languidly, i" 't were real, and in the night time 
 saw it sitting there, with fear. 
 
 - " FSy !" he said, "whatw that?" . 
 " Where, dearest?" 
 " There, at the foot of the bed," 
 " There's nothing there, except papa," 
 
 The figure lifted up its he^id, and rose, and coming to 
 the bedsidr, said : *' My own boy ! don't you know me ?" 
 
 Paul looked it in the face, and thought: was this his 
 father ? But the Ijice so altered to his thinking, thi illed 
 while he gazed, as if it were in pain, and before he could 
 reach out both his hands to take it be ween them, and 
 draw it towards him, t\ie figure turned away quickly from 
 the bed, and went out at the door. 
 
 II. 
 
 How many times th^ golden water danced upon tho 
 wall; how many nights the daric, daik river rolled 
 towards the sea in spite ot him. Pair never counted, 
 never sought to know. >' thei'^ ki'ndn 4 or hip sense ot 
 it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he 
 more grateful every day ; but whether they were many 
 days or few, appeared of little moment n /." to this gentle 
 boy. 
 
 One night he had been thinking r^^'his n^other, and her 
 picture in the drawing-room down ^-i irs, id had thoug' ' 
 she must have .oved sweet Florence 'tt( han his fath^ 
 did, t ■ have held her in her arm's when she felt that sli 
 was dying — for even he her brother, who had such dear 
 love for her. could have no greater wish than that. The 
 train of thsnght suggested to him to inquire if he had 
 
WILD WAVES. 
 
 61 
 
 ever eeeu his mother ? for he ccilrl not remember whether 
 they told him yes or no, the river running very fast and 
 coiifusmg Ills mind. • 
 
 " Floy, did I ever see mamma ?" 
 " No, d irling, why?" 
 
 " Did I never see any kind foco, like mamma's looking 
 at me when I was a baby, Floy ?" 
 
 He asked incredulously, as if he ha,I some vision of a 
 laoe before him, 
 
 "Oh, yes, dear!" 
 " Whose, Floy ?" 
 " Your oM nurse's, often !" 
 
 ,lJ/t''\''\"'' '' ""■ "''' ""™«'"«*iJ P'vnl. " Is Che 
 .lead, too ? I . _ , are we all deml, except you ?" 
 
 There wa^ a hn . i„ the room for an inatant-Ionger 
 pe l,aj«, but .ts...,„ed ,- mor.-th™ all w,« still ^J„ ■ 
 
 M h'T'/"'' ''7 '' "'"'^ -'-'-'. ''«' ^, 
 
 much. ' ''''™ '^'"- ^'"' ''™ *"•""'"«> very 
 
 _•; dhow mo that old uurse, Floy, if you please !" 
 She 18 not here, darling! „ho shall come to-morrow. " 
 Ihank you, Floy ! " 
 
 Paul closed his eyes witli these words, and fell asleep. 
 When he awoke the suu was high, and the broad day 
 v^as clear and warm. He lay a little, looking at the 
 indows which were open, a^.l the curUins rustling in 
 the air, and waving to and fro ; then he Raid, " Floy i. 
 It to-morrow ? Is she come? " 
 
 3med to 
 
 a.. 
 oume one 
 
 go m quest o. her. Perhaps it 
 
 was Susan. Paul thought he heard her telli 
 
 ng him when 
 
62 
 
 HIGHER HEADER. 
 
 1,. .; 
 
 he hii<l (closed his eyes again, that she would soon be 
 hack ; but he did not oi/on thr-in to see. 8he kept her 
 word* perhaps she had never >)een away — but the next 
 thing that happened was a noise of footsteps on the stairs, 
 and then Paul woke — woke mind and l)ody — and sat 
 upright in his I'ed. He saw them now about him. Hero 
 was no grey mist before them, as there had been some- 
 times in the night. He knew them every one, and called 
 them by their names. 
 
 " And who is this? Is this my old nurse?" said the 
 child, regarding with a radiant smile, a figure coming in. 
 
 Yes, yes. No other stranger could have shed those 
 tears' at sight of him, 'and called him hor dear boy, her 
 pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No othei' 
 woman could have stooped down by his bed, and taken 
 up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, a^ 
 one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman 
 could have so forgottera everybody there but him and 
 Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity, 
 
 " Floy, this is a good, kind face !" said Paul, " I am 
 glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse I Stav 
 here 1" 
 
 His senses were all quickened, and he heard a name 
 he knew. 
 
 " Who was that ! who said 'Walter' !" he asked, look- 
 ing around. " Some one said Walter. Is he here ? 1 
 should like to see him very much." 
 
 Nobody replied directly ; but his father soon said to 
 Susan, " Call him back, then ; let him come up." After 
 a short pause of expectation, during which he 1 I looked 
 
WILD WAV1J3. 
 
 63 
 
 With Bmiling intoroHt au,l woml-r o„ l,i, „,„.„„, „,„i «,„ 
 t^e h,d Wgotten Floy Walter w,» b.-ought iZ 
 tlie room. His oj^n faoe and manner, an.l liis oheerfnl 
 ey.» ha,l alway, „,u]e him a favorite wilh Pan la," 
 Paulsaw h,n,, he stretched o,.t hi, hand,, and said, " G„o^" 
 
 "Good-by my child!" cried Mrs. Pipekin, l„.„.vinB 
 to h.3 bod s head. " Not good-by." ""'.ving 
 
 For an inMant Paul gazed at her with the wi.,tful fac-e 
 Z ,; " *'"' ^''' y^s. lie said, placidly, " gowl-bvl 
 »tood, and ,,„tt„,g out hi., handagain. " Where is „«? " 
 
 He felt his fathers breath upon hi., cheek before the 
 word, had parted from his lips. 
 
 T, f b? /7^'"'^«^ Walter. I w,« fond of Walter ° 
 
 b "t W r *"™^ '" *^ ^''■' "^ 'f " -«I "g^- 
 Ky ! to Walter once again. ** 
 
 " Now lay me down, " he said " „nA vu„ 
 to me and let me see y^." ' ^'°^' """"^ '=>°«« 
 
 JT "on'"'tTr'"'^ *""™' aroundeachother 
 
 tl Jrnsires'tlov'i 'bI ,V '" '''*"" "^ «""-■ -"'« -"'1 
 
 wave, Tl' , ' ^'y "'" tl'^ ««*• Then the 
 
 wave, I They always said so I " 
 
 Presently he told her that the motion of the l.>.t ..^^ ' 
 - ..ream „a, lulling him to rest. How green th; ba'Ss 
 
64 
 
 HIGHER HEADER. 
 
 were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and 
 how tall the ru8he3 ! Now the boat was out at sea, but 
 gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before 
 him. Who stood on the bank ? 
 
 He put his hands together, as he had been used to do 
 at his prayers. He did not remove his armstodo.it; 
 but they saw him fold them so, behind her neck. 
 
 " Mamma is like you, Floy ! I know her by the face ! 
 but tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is 
 not divine enough. The light about the head is shining 
 on me as I go ! " 
 
 The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and 
 nothing else stirred in the room. 
 
 The old, old fashion ! The fashion that came in with 
 our first garments, and will rest unchanged until our race 
 has run its course, and the side firmament is rolled up 
 like a scroll. The old, eld fashion,— Death ! 
 
 Oh ! thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion 
 yet, of immortality ! and look as, angels of young chil- 
 dren, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift 
 rivers bear us to the ocean ! . . 
 
 Charles Dickens. 
 
 Questions.— \^\\^i is the interesting and feeling history ? Can you 
 describe Paul as he lay upon his dying bed ? What thought was 
 constantly recurring to his mind? Who was the consoling angel ? 
 What figure did he see at the foot of his bed ? What was the action 
 of this figure? Did Paul seem to recognize him? Who was Floy; 
 could it be an abbreviation of Florence? What luippened when he 
 awakened the following morning? Did he seem to recognize any 
 one ? Can you give the little dialogue that took place between brother 
 
FOREST OF AMERICA. 55 
 
 and sister? What wa« the action of the old nurne ? Give the descrip- 
 tion of the nur^e and her action . Whose name did he hear ? G ve an 
 account of what happened between the two . Can you give the words 
 relating to the parting scene between father and child f Describe the 
 a^ectiona e parting that took place between brother and sL 
 What IS tlie old laahion referred to ? What character, enter into tli^ 
 ..Btory? What do you know of Florence? Can you give an dea^ 
 the deep heart-felt pain of the father? What do you nofe fn X 
 
 1 a«l ? What effect have words repeated in the same sentence ? Can 
 you give instances similar to those given in the lesson ? " 
 
 Require the pupil t^ wriie a compositwn on this subject 
 Note.-7%. beautiful song " What are the wild waves saying ? » 
 
 by Samuel Glover, owes it origin, to this affecting history. This hi^- 
 
 tory %s take7ifr(yni " Dombey and Son." 
 
 A NIGHT IN THE FOREST OF AMERICA. 
 
 gllm' mer-ing, n, afaint heaning light. ; a faint vie^c. 
 
 «u mln-a-ry, „., „ Udy tfuU gives ligkt, bvt chiefly one of the celes. 
 
 tial orbs. 
 ^on^§, n., a girdle; a division of Che earth, v,ith respect to tempera- 
 ture of diferent latitudes. 
 e-las-tT9' i-ty, „., the. inherent property in bodies by v,hich they 
 recover their forn^er figure or state after eMern^ 
 Vre'surt; tension, or distortion. 
 girs' t^n-ing, p. pr., shming ; emitting rays of ligM. 
 con-stSl-la' tions, n, « duster, ossembUge or groups, of fired 
 
 • ' stars. 
 
 sa-vfin' na, «., an cUe^ive. open plnin or n^eadow, or a n^aiu h.... 
 tute--"^ 
 
 rees. 
 
66 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 EI r : pjl 
 
 I had wandered one evening in the woods, at some dis- 
 tance from the catarapt of Niagara, when soon the last 
 ghmmering of daylight disappeared, and I enjoyed> in all 
 its loneliness, the beauteous prospect of night amid the 
 deserts of the New World. An hour after sunset, the 
 moon. appeared above the trees in the opposite part of the 
 heavens. A balmy breeze, which the queen of night had 
 brought with her from the east, seemed to precede her in 
 the forest, like her perfumed breath. 
 
 The lonely luminary slowly ascended in the firmament, 
 now peacefully pursuing her azure course, and now repos- 
 ing on groups of clouds, which resembled the summits of 
 lofty, snow covered mountains. These clouds, by the 
 contraction and expansion of their vapory forms, rolled 
 themselves into transparent zones of white satin, scatter- 
 ing in airy masses of foam, or forming in the heavens 
 brilliant beds of down so lovely to the eye that you would 
 have imagined you felt their softness and elasticity. 
 
 The scenery on the earth was not less enchanting: the 
 soft and bluish beams of the moon darted through the 
 intervals between the trees, and threw streams of light 
 into the midst of the profound darkness. The river that 
 glided at my feet was not in the wood, and now reap- 
 peared, glistening with the constellations of night, which 
 were reflected on its bosom, In a vast plain beyond this 
 stream, the radiance of the moon reposed quietly on the 
 verdure. Birch-trees, scattered here and there in the 
 savannas and agitated by the breeze, formed shadowy 
 islands, which floated on a motionless sea of light. 
 
 Near me, all was silence and repose, save the fall of 
 transient rustling of a sudden breath of 
 
 
 4.1.- 
 
FOREST OP AMERICA. g^ 
 
 wind, or the hooting of the owl • Knf o^ j- . 
 heard, at intervals, L so.ejl; ofth %TomZ 
 ara, which, in the stillness of the ni.l,t , * 
 
 lightfnl nights of Enrope^aSa" ideTo t T' '" 
 ^loes imagination attempt to soar in onr culHvll « T 
 .t everywhere meets with the habitZ," 'It Si " 
 those wild regiors the mind loves to nenet^t! ' , 
 "«ea„ of forests, to hoverround the abysLso "^ ' ." T 
 meditate on the banks of lakes and ri^rTand t f 
 to/nd ihelf alme with God. ' ' "*"■"' 
 
 i?«« ^>«'-- ^'^/^fe, FW™* rf. aateJHaW. 
 
 and astonishing sublimity ^tZZeym "."'"\t"'° «""*"'■ 
 oonstitute, the sublime? I, h IX ^""'""'""""S' ? What 
 'Ublime and whv " Whv L U f T"™' '" °"""8 the scene 
 gmnd or beautiful ' WM moral "l""^'"' "'""''' "''"' """'"g " 
 •Ws this tend to prove •/ "™" * «" '»e««W ? What 
 
 h'sson. vimm.~Let the pupil write an analymof the 
 
 Truth crushed to earth shall ri«e again, 
 ^ The etenml yean, of God are here;' 
 -iitt em)r, wouiitied, ■ftiithes in paia, 
 
 And dies among hig worelupers.l-^ryani. 
 
68 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 1 1 
 
 DEATH OP ABSALOM. 
 
 1. The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 
 On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curl'd 
 Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 
 Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 
 
 The reeds bent down the stream ; the willow leaves, 
 With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, 
 Forgot the lifting winds, and the long stems, 
 Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse. 
 Bears on its bosom, quitely gave way. 
 And lean'd, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 
 How strikingly the course of nature tells, 
 By its light heed of human suffering. 
 That it was fashion'd for a happier world ! 
 
 2. King David's limbs were weary. He had fled- 
 From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood. 
 With its faint people, for a little rest 
 
 Upon the shores of Jordan. The light wind 
 
 Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
 
 To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 
 
 The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
 
 That he could see his people until now. 
 
 They gathered round him on the fresh green bank. 
 
 And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 
 
 Rose up in "heaven, he knelt among them there, 
 
 And bow'd his head upon his hands to pray. 
 
 Oh ! when tKe heart is full — ^when bitter thoughts 
 
 Come crowding thickly up for utterancie, 
 
DEATH OP ABSALOM. 
 
 And the poor common words of courtesy 
 Are such an empty mockery-how much 
 The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer ! 
 He pray d for W^and his voice went up 
 Strongly and fervently. He pray'd for those 
 Whose love had been his shield-and his dee^ tones 
 Grew tremulous. But, oh! for Absalom- ^ 
 ^b or his estranged, misguided Absalom- 
 rhe proud, bright being, who had burst away 
 In all his princely beauty, to defy ^ 
 
 The heart that cherish'd him-for him he pour'd 
 In agony that would not be controll'd 
 Strong suppii,i,„^ and forgave him ihere. 
 Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 
 
 * * * * * • ^ 
 
 J. The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
 
 bank to the still proportions, they betray'd 
 1 he matchless symmetry of Absalom 
 His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 
 Were floating round the tassels as they sway'd 
 To the admitted air, as glossy now ^ 
 
 As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 
 The snowy fingers of Judea's daughters. 
 His helm was at his feet ; his banner, soil'd 
 With trailing through Jerusal ,r, .,us laid, . 
 B^versed beside him; and the )e.vel]'d hilt 
 Whose diamonds lit the passaj. . f his blade, 
 Bested Ike mockery, on his cover'd brow, 
 llie soldiers of the king trod f^ ^ " 
 
 (39 
 
 i«.i f^ 
 
 OM in the garb of batJle; and their cki 
 
 ef. 
 
I 
 
 '70 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, 
 
 And gazed upon the clark pall steadfastly, 
 
 As if he fcfir'd the slumberer might stir. 
 
 A slow step startled him. He grasp'd his blade 
 
 As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 
 
 Of Djivid enter 'd, and gave command. 
 
 In a low tone, to his few followers, 
 
 And left him with his dead. The king stood still 
 
 Till the last echo died ; then, throwing oiF 
 
 The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
 
 The pall from the still features of his child, 
 
 He bow'd his head upon him, and broke forth 
 
 In the resistless eloquence of woe : 
 
 t) 
 
 4. " Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! 
 
 Thou, who wert made so beautiful fair ! 
 
 That death should settle in thy glorious eye. 
 
 And leave his stillness in this clustering hair 
 How could he mark thee for the silent tomb ! 
 My proud boy, Absalom ! 
 
 I'l^l^if 
 
 5. " Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, 
 As to my bosom I have tried to press thee ! 
 How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, 
 
 Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee. 
 And hear thy sweet ' my father! ' from these dumb 
 And cold lips, Absalom ! 
 
 6. " But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush 
 
 Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
 
 And life will dhsh me in the raantlinjr blush, 
 
 P 
 
 •b^ 
 
DEATH OF ABSALON. 
 
 And the (lark tresses to the soft winds flu„^ • 
 But thou no naore, with thy sweet voice, shalt'come 
 lo meet me, Absalom f 
 
 7. " And oh I when I am stricken, and my heart. 
 Like a bruised reed, fa waitinR to be broken, 
 How will Its love for thee, as I depart. 
 
 Yearn for thine ear k, drink its last deep token I 
 It were so sweet, amid death's gathering Joom, ' 
 To see thee, Absalom! 
 
 '■ " wlT'^fT," ' '^'^ ^'"^ *o «'™ thee up ;_ 
 And thy dark sm !_0h! I could drink the cup, 
 
 If from this woe its bitterness had won thee 
 May God avecal I'd thee, like a wanderer Uome. 
 My lost boy, Absalom ! " 
 
 9. He cover'd up his face, and bow'd himself 
 
 A moment on his child .-then, giving him 
 A look of meltmg tenderness, he clasp'd 
 His hands convulsively, as if in prayer • 
 And, as if strength were given him of God . 
 He rose up calmly, and composed the pall ' 
 Firmly and decently-and left him there- 
 As If his rest had been a breathing sleep. 
 
 Nathaniel^. Willis. 
 
 11 
 
I I i 
 
 72 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 mention the description of David ? What are the different feelings 
 portrayed ? Do you find that there is here a similarity of ideas as in 
 the other poem ? Can you compare them ? Give his description of 
 Absalom ? Who are the guards ? Can you recite David's lament over 
 his son ? What is it that particularly strikes you in this lament ? 
 Describe his action after the lament. Who was David? Joab ? 
 What was the cause of Absalom's death ? What gave rise to the re- 
 bellion of Absalom ? What recollections have you of the biblical ac- 
 count concerning it ? What was the conduct of David when he heard 
 of his son's death ? In what metre is the poem written ? What figure 
 is contained in " The waters slept " ? What is a figure ? Is it a figure 
 of rhetoric or of etymology ? Why did you call it blank verse? Men- 
 tion at least three great masters of blank verse. Did I understand 
 you to say that blank verse belongs peculiarly to the English lan- 
 guage ? And why ? ' 
 
 Require the pupil to write tM marginal notes, as in the foregoing 
 poems ; 2. Require him to write a literary analysis after the exam- 
 ples given ; 3. Require him to write out the leading ideas in his own 
 language, embellishing it by verses from the poem. 
 
 LAND AND SEA-BREEZES. 
 
 dis' si-pat-ed, v. t., driven away ; scattered. 
 rSq' ui-§it^, adj., necessary ; needful to Jiave. 
 m&Q^ ni-t\Xdi^,n,, size ; importaruie. 
 re-ver' her-^ -ting, p. pr., echoing. 
 SuQ-gSst' 1 v^, adj. , full of thought. 
 r a-di-ft' tion, «., th^ casting off of waves of heat. 
 mit' i-gat-ed, t;. t., lessened. 
 in-vig' or-a-ting, adj., refreshing. 
 
 The inhabitants of the sea-shore in tropical countries 
 wait every morning with impatience for the coming of the 
 sea-breeze. It usually sets in about ten o'cock. Then 
 
LAND AND SEA-BfiEL.:,;3. 70 
 
 the sultry heat of the oppressive morning is dissipated 
 and there >s a delightful freshness in the ait, whichCns 
 to give new life to all for their daily labors. 
 About sunset, there is again another calm, 'xhe sea 
 
 sets m This alternation of the land and sea.breozes_a 
 wmd fi-om the sea by day, and from the land by IV 
 « so regular in tropical countries, that it is looked for ^ 
 ttg7t r ^ ■"""" -"«^-- - *»« risingltet ^ 
 
 * o'fte'trnf "'T"l""' ^^P^^'^''^ ^'"^ °" thopolar 
 Mde of the trade-winds, these breezes blow only in sum 
 
 mer and autumn ; lor then only is the heat of the'^,un™ffi 
 cently intense to produce the requisite amount of Cht 
 ness in the a r over the In-^ vu- j " """ot 01 light, 
 
 of wind. *' «ea-breeze8 amount to a gale 
 
 7 ner place to which my services afloat have led me 
 
 -^rezir^^ii^.trbr v'- ^^-' *■>« 
 
 walks and whirled abrf^ '^f T "''' *°" "? ^'""^ *''« 
 business is Itltuptd ai d ^ ' """'^ "^^"^ ^'"'"«^' 
 ■dipping to the Zet::* off '»'"■"""-*- f- *!>« 
 
 <..B«^™i,i»,..„„„„ „»„ t.^.,.....u,.,,.,^,^,,,.,„„,^. 
 
74 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 
 1^ ' 
 
 Su(i(lenly, the winds and tho noa,, an if they had again 
 heard the voice of rebuke, are liushed, and there is a 
 great cahn and the lull that follows is delightful. The 
 sky Ih without a cloud, and the atmosphere i- wonderfully 
 transparent ; the Andes seem to draw near ; the climate, 
 always mild and soft, becomes now doubly sweet by the 
 contrast. 
 
 In the southern summer, this change takes place day 
 after day 'with the utmost regularity , and yet the calm 
 always seems to surprise one, and to come before one has 
 had time to realize that the furious sea-wind could so 
 soon be hushed. Presently the stars begin to peep out ; 
 timidly at first, as if to see if the elements here below 
 have ceased their strife knd whether the scene on earth 
 be such as they, from ti".n bright spheres aloft, may shed 
 their sweet influence \: ';...!*, 
 
 Alone in the night-wa/\!), after the sea-breeze has sunk 
 to rest, I have stood on the deck under those beautiful 
 skies, gazing, admiring, wondering. I have seen there, 
 above the horizon at the same time, and shining with a 
 splendor unknown to northern latitudes, every star of the 
 first magnitude — save only six— that is contained in the 
 catalogue of the one hundred principal fixed stars of as- 
 tronomers. 
 
 There lies the city on the sea-shore, wrapped in sleep. 
 The sky looks solid, like a vault of steel set with diamonds. 
 The stillness below is in harmony with the silence above , 
 and one almost fears to speak lest the harsh sound of the 
 human voice, reverberating through those vaulted " cham- 
 bers of the south, " should wake up echo, and drown the" 
 music that fiiis the soul. 
 
LAND AND SBA-BliEBZE8. 75 
 
 tl.i» heit being imZte t tt "^■'■- ^ P""™ "^ 
 ■•«e; when the airT . f !.' f """^ ^'' »""» i' to 
 
 »- «ghtf„. and CiiSl :° «- ^" -i'- a 
 
 When a fire is kindled on the earth »„ 
 observe the „.otes« floating inhtaf; oTt^ ^' '?" 
 those nearest to the chiml,, . ! '" '''""'' *■"*' 
 
 ■<-ught, and to obT; itlTeTard, " '"' ^ '^'" *''« 
 The circle of inflowinsr ai, k ! 7" """ *''' "-"»«• 
 is scarcely perceTvrf 1 '^ """^ '"'"8^'^' ""til it 
 
 file; and the sea with ? ', '■"^^ °^ *''« "»". the 
 
 -0 thus we ha rit * tj^i ^ '""b '''' *"^ '•<^'" ^ 
 ture. '^^'*'' *« sea-breeze in minia- 
 
 lanTtll;i" riv°7-f" *" ""^^' '»>«■> the dry 
 
 - that b;r-raifr:!;i!"S-.''-'.'>^ '-Nation! , 
 
 «ow the sea te^peraturl ' The ^'.^^''onTtl 
 
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76 
 
 HIOHER READER. 
 
 thus becomes heavier than that on the sea, consequently, 
 there is a wind seaward, which we call the land-breeze. 
 
 Lieut. Matthew F. Maury. 
 
 Questions. — What is the subject-matter of the l^son ? What are 
 tropical countries? What are extra-tropical countries? What is tho 
 habit of the inhabitants of tropical countries? When does the sea- 
 breeze begin ? When the calm ? When do the inhabitants of polar 
 climes experience the sea-breeze? What do you know of the sea- 
 breeze at Valparaiso? Where is Valparaiso ? Give the author's descrip- 
 tion of a calm. When does the change referred to in the lesson take 
 place in southern countries ? Recite his words about the appearance 
 of stars. Can you relate his experience when he was night watch? 
 What are stars of the first magnitude ? Give his description of a city 
 sleepmg ? Where are the sea and land-breezes most gentle? How do 
 you account for it ? What is the comparison made at the conclusion 
 of the lesson? Can you explain it ? 
 
 Require the pupil to select six points for an analysis of the subject : 
 " A Visit to the sea-side. " 
 Let the pupil relate the lesson in his own language. 
 
 1 .!J 
 
 \ Im 
 
 THE OOYOTE. 
 
 22 
 
 ftl' le-go-ry, n., a figurative discourse ; a paritble feet. 
 
 ve-ld9' i-pdd^, n., a vehicle mnrcd by ike impulse given hy the 
 
 rider's feet- 
 In-98ns)s^d', v. i., enraged ; provoked. 
 frgti^d' f\jl, adj., deceitful, ircachcrom. 
 fi,6r9V ly, adv., furiously, barbarously. 
 a-p61' o-<JfIz-ing,p. adj., excusing ; vindicating. 
 frSn' zy,n., distraction of mind. 
 Ig-nObl^, at^f., mean, low. 
 acrAVy^' ny, a<y., meagre, wasted. 
 
THE COYOTE. 
 
 11 
 
 over it a tolen^bly bushy taU ht ^r ^ ^.^'^''^ 
 w.th a despairing expression of forsakelLTa,X"°"'" 
 ;i furtive and evil evp nnri o i i ^""^^'^ ^"cl misery, 
 
 always h.,n«ry. He T^^^vf '^"''^ °' ™"'- ^e is 
 friendless. Ti„ meani cri f ^T' ""^ "^ '"*' ""'I 
 '•.e fleas w„..ld ZTZ'tt eTS? h' ^^*^" 
 xjuntlesa and cowardly that even whil»^ ■ '"° 
 
 -e pretending a threft, tl^ rist oftl ft " ""^ *^^* 
 for it. And he i, ,o l,n, Jl ** '^ apologizing 
 
 cwse-haired, and "tif7^ " "'^^"^^' '"«' "%- and 
 
 w- punning, depresses hS a t"^; ^^ """' ''" 
 »>ft-footed trot through the si!! Li' f "'"'"'^ " '""S- 
 »l.oulder at you from^i':;t:C;t,t»:"'« T" ''" 
 '•H.sy pistol-range and thn,, ),« 7 ^ *'"'"' »"' »' 
 -■veyofyo„.%:t*;2;^^-^;;-a^ 
 
 -"Other fifty, and stop again ■ and fi,»,l' ^K '' ■''»'"" ' 
 gliding Wy blends withtLe'rav' of T^' T^ "''""^ 
 lie disappears. *^ ^^ "' ""^ '*8«- txish , and 
 
 But if you start a swift-footed doir aff„r I,,- 
 ""joy it ever so much-especiallv if 1 .^ ™' ^"'^ *'" 
 «ood opinion of himaei^m! I, k ." " ^°« "'»' "'"» * 
 "-t helows sotttitbo'u: irr-^"""' '° '"""- 
 
 ' ""'" ^'"'•' "« *'" -'"« a fraudful smile ovl; his 
 
I 
 
 ?ii3: 
 
 ;-j ■ T 
 
 78 
 
 HIOHER KEADKll. 
 
 shoulder that will fill that dog entirely full of oiicourage- 
 meiit and worldly ambition, and make him lay his head 
 still lower to the ground, and stretch his neck farther to 
 the front, and pant more fiercely, and move his furious 
 legs with a yet wilder frenzy, and leave a broader and 
 broader and higher and denser cloud of desert sand smok- 
 ing behind, and marking his long wake across the level 
 plain ! 
 
 All this time the dog is only a short twenty feet behind 
 the coyote, and, to save the life of him, he can not under- 
 stand why it is that he can not get perceptibly closer; 
 and he begins to get aggravated, and it makes him mad- 
 der and madder to see how gently the coyote glides along, 
 and never pants or sweats, or ceases to smile ; and ho 
 grows still more and more incensed to see how shamefully 
 he has been taken in by an entire stranger, and what an 
 ignoble swindle that long, calm, soft-footed trot is. 
 
 And next the dog notices that he is getting fagged, and 
 that the coyote actually has to slacken speed a little, to 
 keep from running away from him. And then that town- 
 dog is mad in earnest, and he begins to strain, and weep, 
 and swear, and paw the sand higher than ever, and reach 
 for the coyote with concentrated and desf)erate energy 
 
 This spurt finds him six feet behind the gliding enemy, 
 and two miles from his friends. And then, in the instant 
 that a wild new hope is lighting up hi.s face, the coyote 
 turns and smiles blandly upon him once more, and with a 
 something about it which seems to say : 
 
 " Well, I shall have to tear myself away from you, but 
 -"business is busines, and it will not do for me to be 
 
THK BATTLK OF HASTINGS. 
 
 79 
 
 oomgalong tLs way all day. ' And forthwith there is 
 I rushing Hound, and the sudden spHtting of a long c mck 
 tlirough the atmosphere; and behold, thft dog T'ol ^t 
 and alone in the midst of a va^t solitude ! ^ ^ 
 
 Mark Tioain. 
 
 Questions.— Oive the description of the Ccvnt. o ■ .u 
 -We of him. Can you de' cribe tl e tri^^^^^^^^^ """^«^'« 
 
 the chaae. What is the dismay of the dolT w u' T"""* ^^ 
 
 in? In what does the humor coL strw^y is^T,''^ '''' ''^ *^'^- 
 What is humor? Can you mention Ly 1^ hl^o^Xr ' 
 
 THE BATTLE OP HASTINGS. 
 
 am-bfis' s6.dor§, ,„., „ minister of thekigkest rank employed hy 
 
 '^^gt^^d, .. ... ,. unUea.prince.orsU^,for n^utual aul or defence • 
 ^ to confederate. "^ ' 
 
 cms' tl?'^ ^''^^ "" '^'^''* ' ^^"iohnJit. 
 
 una ed, t,. ,., to be eehoed ; to he sent back, a^ sound. 
 
 Of fCc^ 7"" TT'^ ^'"g -f England on the very day 
 out it Wh r"' ^' '''' ^"^'^ "-^ '^ be q. -I 
 
 f„.„ J * i- ? *' ^""^'-' •'8 dropped his bow ro- 
 
 'X sent '':''^: "'" ""^ ^«'"- *»--«'. -dP"^- 
 "'tly sent ambassadors to Harold, calling on bi .„ ^„1 
 
 "- oatn au,l resign the crown. Harold wourd";io"no sul 
 
80 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 i I. 
 
 
 
 'hI 
 
 
 Il 
 
 w 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 p 
 
 if' 
 
 
 1 i;li'#> 
 
 
 il) 
 
 jOT- , ,^ 
 
 
 
 jft^s' 
 
 
 I 
 
 fll j'l' 
 
 
 
 fll^''"'l 
 
 
 ' 
 
 •h'' 
 
 thing. The barons of Franc? leagued together round 
 Duke William for the invasion of England. Duke Wil- 
 liam promised freely to distribute English wealth and 
 English lands among them. Some writers tell us that 
 Edward the Confessor had made a will, appointing Duko 
 William of Normandy his successor. It is not unlikely, as 
 William was his kinsman, being the grandson of that 
 Richard of Normandy, the Confessor's uncle, who had 
 recoiv:d long ago, with such kindness, his nephews and 
 their mother, when they fled from England to escape the 
 cruel Danes. 
 
 King Harold had a rebel brother in Flanders, who wa'< 
 a vassal of Harold Hardrada, king of Norway. This 
 brother and the Norwegian king, joining their forces 
 against England, with Duke William's help, won a fight, 
 in which the English were commanded by two nobles, and 
 then besieged York. Harold, who was waiting for tho 
 Normans on the coast of Hastings, with his army, marched 
 to Standford Bridge, upon the river Derwent, to give 
 them instant battle. 
 
 He found them drawn up in a hollow circle, marked 
 out by their shining spears. Riding round this circle at n 
 distance to survey it, he saw a brave figure on horseback, 
 in a blue mantle and a bright helmet, whose horse sud- 
 denly stumbled and threw him. 
 
 " Who is that man who has fallen ? " Harold asked oi 
 one of his captains. 
 
 " The king of Norway, " he replied. 
 
 " He is a tall and stately king, " said Harold ; " but 
 his end is near. " 
 
THE BATTLE OP HASTINGS. gj 
 
 The capfcun rode away a„d gave the message 
 
 ;; !'''" '"' °' -■•* f» -^ »^ve, ■■ replied the captain. 
 „ !° """^ ^ " '«'""<"» '•>« brother, with a smUe. , 
 
 Ht J::re'"«rei^r:p^r ^ ""• -- P^^^ap^ a 
 
 ^'^fjti:rc; thifhiittinf 7 «^-'^ 
 
 dismissal, werefeft dead 7po„ the ;!« ul 7""' 
 army marched to York As kITu iT "-^to™"" 
 the feast, in the midst 'of a 1 V ^ ■* '*' '^"' ''» 
 
 St '" " ^^-^^^ **' *^^ Normat hKeTr 
 
 wrecked. A part of their own shore tlwE tht h 
 
 they had once more made sail, le^ h„ the 1„h^ , 
 
 -y. a present from hi, wife, upon" the^f X^ fht 
 
^2 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ! I 
 
 vf 
 
 m 
 
 figure of a golden boy stood pointing towartl England. 
 By day, the banner of three lionn of Normandy, the 
 diverfl-eolore<l sails, the gilded vanes, the many decora- 
 tions of this gorgeous ship, had glittered in the sun and 
 suimy water; by night, a light had sparkled like a star at 
 her masthea^^l ; and now, encamped near Hastings, with 
 their leader lying in the old Koman castle of Pevensey, 
 the English retiring in all directions, the land for miles 
 around scorched and smoking, fired an(i pillaged, was the 
 whole Norman power, hopeful and strong on English 
 ground. 
 
 Harold broke up the feast and hurried to London. 
 "Within a week his army )vas really. He sent out spies to 
 ascertain the Norman strength. 
 
 William took them, caused them to be led through the 
 whole camp, and then dismissed. 
 
 " The Normans, " said these spies to Harold, " are not 
 bearded on the upper lip as we English are, but are shorn. 
 They are priests. " 
 
 " My men, " replied Harold, with a laugh, " will find 
 those priests good soldiers." 
 
 " Tho Saxons, " reported Duke William's outposts of 
 Norman soldiers, who were instructed to retire as King 
 Harold's army advanced, " rush on us through their pil- 
 lagedcountry with the fury of madmen." 
 
 " Let them come, and come soon, " said Duke William. 
 
 Some proposals for reconciliation were made, but were 
 soon abandoned. In the middle of the month of October, 
 in tho year one thousand and sixty-six, the Norinana and 
 
THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. SB 
 
 the Englinh came front to front All nurhi fK« 
 
 l.iv enpflmnnrl u^f i , '^"^ ^^^ armies 
 
 he,. c-Tl V """'' :"•'' '" " '""' "f "'« ™"»try 
 
 JJattle. With the Bret dawn of ,hiy thoy aro.,o. 
 Th«re in tho faint light, were the Ivnglish on a hill ■ ■, 
 
 presenting a fightnig warrior woven in gold thrk,l 
 « with precious stones; beneath theialer aTu 
 
 On ... opposite hill, in three lines-arehera, foot-.ol 
 d,ershommen-w,« the Norman force. Of , sud^ „ l 
 
 : t:2- ; '^'^ '"^ r" '""■-' '™'" "-^--n 
 
 •' Ood's r ,^"f f >»™'^'-e<l w.th their own battle-cry 
 
 .^«5:;r:ntifhin^::ji---^ 
 
 »ord and catching .t, and s.nging of the W; of li^ 
 - Btryme,, An English kn.ght, who .^e out fr^m the 
 
 A^IZm r\f "'/^" "^ "''^ •""«'"•« hal' 
 ,1 ™ :Tl 7 "''5'" ™'« ""^ "Bd he fell too. Bnt 
 
 n fi '"; K™'' °"'' "'"^ '^'"'^ *''^ Norman. This wL 
 m the first beginning of the fight. It soon raged 07,0 
 
 The English, keepiig side by side in a great mass 
 ..red no more for the showers „/k„™„„ arC^ ^ 
 .tej had l«en showers of Norman rain. When the Nor- 
 

 84 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 man horsemen rode against them, with their battle-axes 
 they cut men and horses down. 
 
 The Normans gave way. The English pressed forward. 
 A cry went forth among the Norman troops that Duke 
 William was killed. Duke William took off his helmet, in 
 order that his face might be distinctly seen, and rode 
 along the line before his men. This gave them courage. 
 As they turned again to face the English, some of the 
 Norman horse divided the pursuing body of the English 
 from the rest, and thus all that foremost portion of the 
 English army fell, fighting bravely. 
 
 The main body still remaining firm, heedless of the 
 Norman arrows, and with their battle-axes cutting down 
 the crowds of horsemen when they rode up, like forests of 
 young trees, Duke William pretended to retreat The 
 eager English followed. The Norman army closed again, 
 and fell upon them with great slaughter. 
 
 " Still, " said Duke William, " there are thousands ot 
 English, firm as rocks, around their king. Shoot upward 
 Norman archers, that your arrows may fall down upon 
 their faces. " 
 
 ^ The sun rose high, and sank, and the battle still raged 
 Through all the wild October day, the clash and din re- 
 sounded m the air. In the red sunset, and in the white 
 moonlight, heaps and heaps of dead men lay str wn—a 
 dreadful spectacle— all over the ground. King Harold 
 wounded with an arrow in the eye, was nearly blind' 
 His brothers were already killed. Twenty Norman 
 knights, whose battered armor had flashed fiery and 
 golden in the sunshine all day long, and now looked sil- 
 very m the moonlight, diished forward to seize tlie roval 
 
 H t 
 
QUESTrONS. 
 
 80 
 
 lully collected r„,„„| their l,li,„l,.,l kin^. The kin;, re 
 
 ™Ue,l '";"•■''"'"""•' -"l, -J-l'l-'- Tl,e English it'o 
 ■HKl fle,l. The No„„„n. ,-a||io,l, and the ,ky was lost. 
 
 Oh, what a «ght benoath the moon aa,I stars, when' 
 ^h^ were slunrng in the tents of the victorious Duke 
 
 soldiers with torches, going slowly to and fro without 
 
 and the banner, w.th its warrior worked in golden 
 
 Ireaa and precous stones, lay low, all torn and JuaZ 
 
 Uood-and the three Norman lions kept watch over tl" 
 
 Charles Dickem. 
 
 give any idea of the contest? What wasTir I T ^ . ^" '^'''' 
 Who are spies '^ Which i, fl ' ! T "'^^'"v^t'"" of the spies ? 
 
 » no were tne Danes? Whence came the Norm«n« ; v i • .. 
 nieaning of "God's rood t holy rood.'^ Normans .^ Explain the 
 
 Ite<iuire the pupil to y^rUe a co>nposUu.n on the Bat^e of Hastings. 
 
 He that filches from me my good name. 
 Robs me of that which not enriches him, 
 And makes mo poor xnd^eil.-SJmkespe'are. 
 
Is £ 
 
 m 
 
 HiaUER RHAUKU. 
 
 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 Verso, a broozo mid bloaaoniH straying, 
 Where Hope clung feeding, like a beo — 
 Both were mine ! Lite went a maying" 
 With Nature, liojte, and Poesy. 
 When I wa,s young! 
 When I was young ? — Ah, woful wluni ! 
 Ah ! tor tlie eliange 'twixt Now and Tli«!U ! , 
 This breathing house not built with hands, ' 
 This \m\y that does me grievous wrong,'' 
 O'er aery clitfs and glittering sands, 
 How lightly then it tl{»«hi;d along : — 
 Like those trim skitTs, unknown of yore, 
 On winding lakes and rivers wide. 
 That ask no aid of sail or oar, 
 That fear no spite of wind or tide ! 
 Nought cared this lx)dy for wind or weather 
 When Youth and I liv'd in't togetluu-. 
 
 Flowers are lovely. Love is flower-like; 
 Friendship is a sheltering tree ; 
 O ! the joys that came down shower-like. 
 Of Friendships, Love, and Liberty, 
 
 Ere I was old. 
 Ere I was old ?— Ah, woful Ere, 
 Which tells me, Youth's no longer hen! ! 
 O Youth I for years so many and sweet, 
 Tis known, that Thou and I were on«^, 
 
 (a) Life was for time a scene of enjoytuent. 
 
 (b) They cause much pain and is a ond obstrunHon to his mind. He wn« sulfering 
 more or less from ImsHly RijffRrIng, 
 
YOUTH AVD AOE. 
 
 I'll think it but a fond coMa,it— 
 
 It cannot l>o that thou art gono ! 
 
 Thy vosjM.r-hoU hath not yet tollM :— 
 
 And tliou wort ay.; a nia-stor hol<l ! 
 
 What Htrango diHgui«o haat now put on, 
 To niakf beliovo that tliou art i,^)no ! 
 I 8oe thcHo iock-s in nilvory slips, 
 ThiH droopin^r gait, thi.s altered size : 
 But spring tide i.jossoms on thy lips, 
 And tears take sunslune from thino eyes I 
 Life is but thought : so think I will 
 That Youth and I are houso-matos still. 
 
 Dew-drops aro tho gems of morning, 
 But the tears of mournful eve ! 
 Where no hope is, life's a warning 
 That only serves to make us grieve, 
 
 When we are old : 
 That only serves to make us grieve 
 With oft and tedious taking-leave, 
 Like some poor nigh-related guest. 
 That may not rudely be disraist; 
 Yet hath outstay M his welcome while, 
 And tells the jest without tho smile. 
 
 Samuel T. Coleridge. 
 
 QMestiom.-mxai ia the subject-matter of this poem ^ How wonl^ 
 >^u explam the opening line? How do you expl rwofd X'' 
 What ,B the meanmg of 'th.s breathing house nit built w t h ham ' ^ 
 
 . •«." , ' 7^ •" -^""'Ving. vvnacia the raeanini? of 'trim 
 
 .k.fr,. unknown of yore'? Wl.y .unknown of yore' ? cJyZ^Z 
 
 87 
 
ya 
 
 wT^ 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 n ^ 
 
 
 >\ 
 
 
 
 
 i fi 
 
 i 
 
 
 > 
 
 ■ 'i ': 
 
 ! 
 
 
 ? 
 
 ■1 . 
 1 
 
 1 - 
 
 ; 
 
 j 
 
 88 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 the lines that refer to trim skiffs ? Why is Love flower-like ? What 
 means the line following ? Why 'woful Ere' ? What is the meaning 
 of 'fond conceits' ? What is the vesper-bell ? Can you explain the last 
 part of the second stanza ? Why should life be to us a grief when bereft 
 of hope ? What are the leadr.ig thoughts of this poem ? Scan the first 
 five lir"- and state what measure or metro. 
 
 Require the pupil io lorite marginal notes containing the principal 
 ideas of each stanza, and let him make a literary analysis of the 
 poem. Let him instance sLv figures of rhetoric, defining each, and 
 developing tliem according to t)ie rules. 
 
 A SOENE FROM OAT.f.TSTA. 
 
 Two men make their appearance about two hours be- 
 fore sunset, and demand admittance to Callista. The 
 jailor asks if they are not two Greeks, he • brother and 
 the rhetorician, who had visited her before. The junior 
 of the strangers drops a purse heavy with coin into his 
 lap, and passes on with his companion. When the 
 mind is intent on great subjects as aims, heat and cold, 
 hunger and thirst, lose their power of enfeebling it ; thds, 
 perhaps, we must account for the remarkable energy now 
 displayed both by the two ecclesiastics and by Callista 
 herself. 
 
 She, too, thought it was the unwelcome philosopher 
 come again : she gave a start and a cry of delight when 
 she saw it wab Caicilius. " My father, " she said, " I 
 want to be a -Christian, if I may; He came to save the 
 
 lost sheep. I have learnt such things from this book 
 
 let me give it to you while 1 can. I am not long for this 
 
A SCENE OP CALLISTA. 
 
 89 
 
 Siv I '' 'ri^^r^^ ^^"^ ^^ «"^' ^"'i then I win 
 gMy go She knelt at his feet, and gave the roll of 
 parchment into his hand. " Uke and .it '' hi ? 
 
 " let 11Q thmt ^11 , 't' "^ answered, 
 
 let us think calmly over the matter. " 
 
 " I am ready, " she insisted. " Denv mp n^f ^ • i 
 when ti,„e U so „rgen,„-if I „., hZi^sTfalt 
 calmly, ' he said again, " I am „ot refusing W tZl 
 w,sh to know about you. " He could hardly C from ' 
 tears of pa,n or of joy, or of both, when hesL ttL " 
 change which trial had wrought in her What If 1 A 
 h™ moat waa the utter disap^earanl of thl l^e^'ff 
 
 aWe to fallen m^,. There wa« instead a frank hnmnit' 
 a .mphc, y w.thont concealment, an unresisting 3 
 ness which seemed a, if it would enable her if tfa^ri«l 
 01, to smile and to kiss the feet that insulted ir Shi 
 Wot every vestige of what the world worships under 
 the t ties of proper pride and self-respect. CalUsta wa^ 
 "ow hviug, not in the thought of herself, but ofAttb" 
 
 "bufS^tltl^" ™'\«'^ '° y°"'" '- -''"""^d; 
 
 but lu the volume you have returned to me He bids us 
 
 .cokon the charges. Can you drink of His cS 
 
 Kecollect what is before vnn " oi ^-n • *""* • 
 
 iiiK with , t„,, A • ^ ^^^ '*'" ^''tinned kneel- 
 
 ndl^^^h b f ^*™«-''"««" °f fi«=e and demeanor, 
 
 leaven ' "V ''"^'^' '"''™" ""-^ l"^" ^ I l"-rfer 
 lawen. _ You are on earth, " said Cecilius " not in 
 
 .. iiiiiK r.ne ijie.saeaiic'.s.s of heaven. '—'' Ho hi« 
 
 given me the firm purpose " she s.id "t. • f 
 
 1 I J"*-, sne said, to orain heaven. 
 
90 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ! !• 
 
 to escape hell ; and Ho will give me, too, the power. " — 
 " Ah, Callista ! " he answered, in a voice broken with 
 distress, " you know not what you will have to bear if 
 you join yourself to Him. " — " He ha.s done great things 
 for me already ; I am wonderfully changed ; I am not 
 what I was. He will do more still. " 
 
 " Alas, my child ! " said Caecilius; " that feeble frame, 
 ah ! how will it bear the strong iron, or the keen flame, 
 or the ruthless beast ? My child, what do / feel, who am 
 free, thus handing you over to be the sport of the evil 
 one ? " — " Father, I have chosen Him, " she answered, 
 " not hastily, but on deliberation. I believe Him most 
 absolutely. Keep me not from Him ; give Him to me, 
 if T may ask it; give me my Love. " Presently she add- 
 ed, "I have never forgotten those words of yours since 
 you used them, ' My Love is crucified. ' " She began 
 again, " I will be a Christian : give me my place among 
 them. Give me my place at the feet of Jesus, Son of 
 Mary, my (rod. I wish to love Him. I think I can love 
 Him. Make me His. " 
 
 " He has loved you from eternity," said Caecilius, "and 
 therefore you are now beginning to love Him. " She cov- 
 ered her eyes with her hands, and remained in profound 
 meditation. " I am very sinful, very ignorant," she said 
 at length ; " but one thing T know, that there is but One 
 to love in the world, and I wish to love Him. I sur- 
 render myself to Him, if He will take me, and He shall 
 teach me about Himself. "— " The angry multitude, their 
 fierce voices, the brutal executioner, the prison, the tor- 
 ture, the slow, painful death. " ... He was speaking, 
 not to her, but to himself. She wa,s calm, in spite of her 
 
A SCENE OF CALLISTA. gj 
 
 hand to slay his chiw! '^^''''"""' '*'"« "1> 1"« 
 
 .n7bl"sr;;;i' 'Br' \' *'"?,' ""•^ '-"-.? yo„ 
 ^^Mtrf:at: :::\:svTr"'' '■'■;• ^- 
 
 He formally instructed ZrCL^t "•"" '°™"^- ' 
 allowed. Nor for bmtf.r i f ^ "* areumstances 
 
 Holy E.,ehar st f' "SlS;" '" T'^''''"^""" »'' 
 three sacrament at o^^'Z "^^Ts^H '"" ''f ''" 
 look down UDon an,! th^ A , * * '"'' ""'Ke's '" 
 in this w"rU's ' ft, ? ''"'' :'''^" "'« P"" d»W, rich 
 down toT^te C;! iT '" '^"^ '"■^'^""'y' -^"dt 
 fell npon h" w t W ! '"^r "''°" '"^ •"•""' -'''»'' 
 
 rrodn'ced a sell ;'si:„T; 'i::;? ''"' "'"' T'-^'-^'y 
 
 '.^ ever before ev^n had r^roftSr^*'' 
 
 renewed it, orli':lXt:^T;:,;d"":^ '''" '^ ' 
 and Form of Him wlZ 7 ' f *" """7 ^"ee 
 
 ...ejrjrd airw:,rr3 t'^Tr-""'-" 
 
 through joyously, and hke I "'conij' l'^ '^"'''' 
 You could face the nro<,nppf K /''"^'^^'«^- ^ ^new it. 
 
 -d you wiiih.':;sTi':i::^^""^"^^^''«'>™«™. 
 
 are, 
 
 trial now that you 
 
- 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 ii. h 
 
 , 
 
 
 m ^^it 
 
 
 92 
 
 HIGHER RBAIJER. 
 
 " Never fear me, father, " she said, in a clear, low voice. 
 The bishop and his deacon left the prison. 
 
 Cardinal Newman. 
 
 Questiom. — Who is the subject of this lesson? Who was she? 
 Why was she in prison ? From the reading of the subject-matter, 
 what would you judge her to be? Was she a Christian ? Mention 
 the names of her visitor? and stale their position? How did they 
 gain entrance ? Describe the manner in which Callista received them ? 
 What was her sole request? .What change was noticeable in her? 
 What favor did she ask ? To whom did she vow eternal allegiance ? 
 What answir gave she to the mention of executions, trials, and the 
 like ? What did Ca^cilius at length do ? Who instructed her ? What 
 sacraments did she receive? How many sacraments can be re- 
 ceived but once ? And why ?" What is the meaning of Viaticum ? 
 What change did the sacraments effect in her? What is a sacra- 
 ment? What is the form and matter of the three eacramants she re- 
 ceived ? What were her parting words ? What lesson does this con- 
 version teach us ? 
 
 Require the pu])!! to write the lesson in his otvn language. 
 
 Let him 2>-ace the diacritical marks over the following words: de- 
 meanor, rvJhless, executioner, surrender, parchmeni, simplicity, 
 mien, unsuitithle. Define each. 
 
 Delightful task ! to rear tlie tender thought, 
 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot ; 
 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 
 To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 
 The gonormis purpose in the glowing breast. — Thv..:.^on. 
 
ow voice. 
 
 DB LA SALLE AND JAMES II. 
 
 DE LA SALLE AND JAMES D. 
 
 93 
 
 ty-ran'nlcal, adj., pertainm,, to a tyrant • saiUu . 
 
 h5s.pi taw t ^■"*''^— •»^«-«-" ^«'""^«'vm«.; «„. 
 
 re-clp'i-ents n « .... .' -^ ' >^^>*»iut<' ; mmtaat. 
 
 :t. '""^" °" "'■"■•■'• '*"' '"« "'x ^ .««. 
 
 •OIU 01- mtmaU. "n»w ,» 
 
 Soon after the disastrous battle nf ti.,, b 
 w.^. fought ou the 12th of J " lo T ''"'; ^'''■^'' 
 oua,« of En<Haucl i„ „„ " j " ' *°' "^"'"^^ "'« Sec- 
 
 o.w„, secretfy el "rC •„ ''T "' "'"''■'""« ^'- 
 
 »a .ought r^f?f t ert;;;: \frr^^^ 
 
 ti-, received hi tl' u.r, ~" l' ^""^'^ ^' "'<' 
 
 mms, and surrounded Cwt ^"^ '''"' °'*" 
 
 generous heart Jd V I . '^ *"'''"'•"' ^-hieh a 
 
 Tl.econd,, oftC'r^, f^t ""f '"'^ »"" ^«ise. 
 
 him golden o,,i„ 1 !!^ "?,°" "'" '^'■««i<"' won for 
 
 given*the C^Z^^Z^^ '.""'""^ ^''» >"- 
 the thoughtful and «,,1 " '''*''''"*<"■ *'"* th"t 
 
 Y7tv.::lroi;T:,i;ri^;^^^^^^^^^^ «'« 
 
 will reflect no le^^ r>r^ri;f i ^* *^® Stuarts 
 
 ■Ti.■n<.MvietoriiTir:h:ht::rn>''^r 
 
 «ni willed. "'^ inseparably 
 
 -^1 
 
 HI 
 
94 
 
 \ }. 
 
 . 5 . : 
 
 1 t 
 I'll: 
 
 r 
 
 111 
 
 ,1 yl 
 k 
 
 ? I 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 The misfortunes of the fallen monarch of England in- 
 volved in their wake the best and most loyal of his adher 
 enis. During many years, every out-bound ship boro 
 from the shores of Ireland and England faithful and de- 
 voted followers of the dethroned prince, who were ager 
 to share his exile as they had been to draw their swords 
 in defence of his crown. Among these was a band of 
 distinguished young Irishmen, to the number of fifty, who 
 could not brook the tyrannical and bigoted rule whicli 
 the now king, "William the Third, Prince of Orange, ex- 
 ercised over their ill-fated country. Attached as they 
 were to the waning fortunes of the Stuart family, and 
 passionately fond of their native land, neither loyalty nor 
 patriotism could induoe them to tarry long in a country 
 where the commonest rights of humanity were denied 
 them, and where, especially, their holy religion had been 
 rigorously proscribed. 
 
 Accordingly, in the year 1698, these fifty young gen- 
 tlemen bade farewell to their beloved homes and sailed for 
 the shores of France. On their arrival they repaired to 
 Paris, and, in the palace of St. Germain, where James 
 held court, renewed the expression of their undying 
 fealty and attachment to the fortunes of the Stuart fam- 
 ily. Pleased as James II. was to receive these assur- 
 ances of devotion from fifty young men of gallant bearing 
 and gentle birth, he felt that a new burden had been 
 placed upon his shoulders. Bereft of crown and patri- 
 mony himself, and dependent in all things on the gen- 
 erous bounty of a foreign prince, who had befriended him 
 in his hour of bitter need, he felt he had no means of 
 procuring for them the education which befitted their 
 
I>E LA SALLE AND JAMES . II. 
 
 9.5 
 
 "n many a Iwrd-fouitht 6oM TIT^^ '"*^ exhibited 
 
 ""i-iiing the exiled krj::,:":"^ --'•^-t-- 
 
 '"'A u,,o„ himJlf ri; 'Lf :"'? *%'"" '-""^f' "'"' 
 "'.d education of the vS w"?'"''"''"^^'- """"'I'I'-t 
 fi'vor i« such «hape thltlf,, "*''?' '°'''''""« "-o 
 ."Iditional obligation 1 a. b^ TT ^'"^ f"^" ""^' '><> 
 a^ured his g.St hat tit ' ' T'^ "P"" ^'""- ^""'^ 
 t'.o service of the «,'„"; 2":'"""^ °^ ^•^-''""g f"'' 
 •■vhose fathers had ,o oft™ A r h ^""'8 8«"tlemen 
 *heir heroism a, d thai. I 1 1*"'^"'*^'^ *''«™^lves by 
 w». a privilege of thieh he t '"'V^'^'^'y '""^ honot, 
 
 ■^ouls, when conferring favor t.-vt„' 1 "i"'^ K'''^"' 
 1)7 diminishing the sense of „ 7 '^.'^"':'""«> 'heir effect 
 the recipient, of them! **"°" "' *''°^» ^^o are 
 
 CUTdTnttd onn'Y ^'^"■^'^''°" ^""'^ «'« 
 'he young IriTm^r 1 ?"""""'"'''" P^vision for 
 
 measures 'reJuSfor hat fT'^Ti"''" *° '«'°P' «- 
 Cardinal de NoaUle » , ' ^^" ^'"'»«»«« «>« 
 
 Mityofthetfr—red^rhf *"'^*'"' ■••'■^'«'- 
 
 Cl.etardie« a n.an o7 glf] " l;"""^?' ^^t''- ''« '•' 
 Pi%. At once Father TL rf'di ""'""'/"O 
 -"■ ^e la «al,e . the fittest pelttt^ fSt • ,^ ^ 
 
 ■:i 
 
 '' 7 I 
 
96 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 the fulfilment of a service both difiicult and delicate, in u 
 manner which would prove satisfactory to the king. 
 The choice was highly pleasing to the archbishop, who 
 had already learned to set the greatest value on the piety 
 and wisdom of this venerable man. In courtesy, however, 
 to the Veh. de la Salle, and fearing lest his manifold 
 engagements would prevent him from undertaking fresh 
 obligations, the archbishop, after having stated to him 
 the wishes of the king, told him what Father de la Che- 
 tardie had suggested. 
 
 The communication was like a beam of light direct 
 from heaven, and the holy man was thankful that Provi- 
 dence had deigned to afford him the oi)portunity ot 
 giving emphatic expression to the scope and purport of 
 the undertaking to which he had lent the labor of his 
 life. Though the abounding charity of his heart had 
 inclined him from the outset to the education of the 
 poorer classes and to the establishment of charity schools, 
 it was far from his purpose to confine his labors within 
 those limits ; he had determined that the benefits of a 
 Christian education should, so far as he could accomplisli 
 it, be enjoyed by all classes; and he was convinced that 
 in many cases the children of the wealthy and distin- 
 guished in life stood fully as much ii need of his benevo- 
 lent ministrations as those of the daily toiler in the field 
 and on the highway. He had already given proof of his 
 intention in these respects by the establishment of 
 normal schools throughout France, and hailed the 
 present opportunity as a Providential sanction of his 
 design. 
 
 University education in France still retained, the defects 
 
elicate, in a 
 the king. 
 )i8hop, who 
 m the piety 
 jr, however, 
 lis manifold 
 aking fresh 
 ated to him 
 • de la Che- 
 
 light direct 
 that Provi- 
 ortunity of 
 I purport of 
 labor of his 
 
 heart had 
 bion of the 
 [•ity schools, 
 bors within 
 3enefits of a 
 
 accomphsh 
 vinoed that 
 
 and distin- 
 his benevo- 
 
 in the field 
 proof of his 
 ishment of 
 
 hailed the 
 tion of his 
 
 of 
 
 I>E LA SALLE AND JAMES II. 97 
 
 of inediaBval times ; for althmml, u i. j 
 profound scholars, t wis 3 T'"^^ "^^^ 
 
 a certain incompkene^' of Z^t^^^^^^^^ by 
 
 and aim of the Ven de la 4n * "^''^ ^^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 needed method into the Jrt^lfV.' ''''''^'''' ^^"« "^"ch- 
 ^ti^e its general wtkW R^^^^^^ ^"^ '^ ^^^tem- 
 
 -nethod, alike in elem Svin f f '''''''' *^ proved 
 of mathematics, the 7, ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 '-ame the distinguisl^Kur Hahe T ^'""°^^^' 
 temwhich originated in th«! 1 . educational sys- 
 of the Christifn S Wl and r ^^''^'^ ^^^ ^ ' 
 
 manent success Tim I T'^ '^ '^''^y ^^»<^ Per- 
 
 -towingon:il cW; ?:; ;^V^'^^ ^^^ P-pose' of 
 i"gs of education, based* unoni-^- '"^^^^^'^^^^^ bless- 
 
 finguishingfeaStreS^^ ^^ ^ 
 
 'tH root in the example and ^^7 ? '*^'''°'^' ^^^^'"g 
 
 'le la Salle himself ^^^-^^Pressed wish of the Ven 
 
 When, therefore, the proiert nf t • , 
 -a« mentioned, the BrotCfl 1^."^ ^""'^^^"^^ 
 -operation, and a ne'l aeaulr T ^'^ 
 
 for the accommodation onLZ '^"'' ""^^ ""' "^''' 
 
 monarch had taken h t ' an W '^"^'\ '^^^^^'^"^^^ 
 his foreign wards tlJh. '"'^ ^" *^^ ^^^^^re of 
 
 «'.naturf to the tl^^Tf' ''^ ^^^^' ^^"^ -- 
 satisfied that his mlZ^n^l ^""^' ^"^^ ^^^^ entirely 
 young friends o a c^w," "^ ""'f '^^'^^ the gallani 
 «.st expression in the .111 '! 77"^ ™^^^ ^"^ ^'^^ ^^g^- 
 tte Christian Schools ^"^"'' '^ *^^ Brothers of 
 
 young men ^ho had b ^n thusT""'"^^ ^^'^^^'^^ «^' ^^^ 
 
 »3een thus unexpectedly confided to 
 
98 
 
 HIOHKR RKADKU. 
 
 their oliaigo, and Hought to do justico to tlio confidence 
 which hi.s Majewty Louis the Fourteenth had reposed in 
 tliem by educating those sons of a sorrowing land as 
 Christians and gentlemen, loyal alike to their God, their 
 countrv, and to honor. Father de la Chetardie often 
 visited the distinguished exiles, and conferred with tho 
 Von. de la Salle on all matters pertaining to their morfil 
 and mental advancement. Nor did James the Second 
 Ibrget those whose fathers, having staked all their worldly 
 ])OS8esHions in defence of his rights, were now reaping the 
 reward of their noble and disinterested services in th<' 
 Christian education of their sons. He watched over tlieii' 
 daily progress in letters and religion with the fond solici- 
 tude of a father, and misaed no opportunity of contributing . 
 to their comfort and welfare. 
 
 The particulars of one visit which he paid to his little 
 Irish colony, in company with the Archbishop of Paris 
 and several distinguished French and Irish officers, have 
 readied us-, and afford gratifying evidence of the genuine 
 goodness of heart which had made James the Second 
 beloved by all the poor of the realm when he was simply 
 Duke of York. He addressed to each one of those young 
 men whose sires had been his fiiithful retainers in dark 
 and stormy days, words of encouragement and thank.s, 
 pointed out to them the grand prospect which the muni- 
 ficence of Louis the Fourteenth and the enlightened zeal of 
 the Brothers of the Christian Schools had opened to them, 
 and expressed the hope that at a future day they might 
 have the opportunity of redressing the wrongs of their 
 country and shaking off the yoke of a cruel oppression. 
 The Ven. John Baptist de la Salle was warmly compli- 
 mented by the king for the perfect character of the w(nk 
 
I>K r.A SALLE AND JAMlJS II. gg 
 
 The young el. , "Ct'.: r";"""" '""-"'^ 
 tender wor.l« of „,„ ''"'''''j' '""™' t>y the 
 
 their JZZ°ZZT''r' ;"''''•«"""' "> "»"' 'y 
 
 i.^.h..o,e„„c.:::::;::::, :;—-,,.■,.: 
 
 ■'-land 'till groanc C,:^^/ :,^.''7'? ,^'"' l-'i-hcl; 
 
 'h'rtine,! not to bo inoff Jive t. "",'''''<','""« were 
 have felt the influence .r, J f '""' "="'''"'" ""''^ 
 -ih«. The p„ it of F ! T"*"* "'■ '^"^ ^"* 
 "loquenoe; t./eiLlo„ IZZ t , ""T T'"' "'*"^ 
 their ,hock on the hillside tpln^^""-V'"'''"' ^^°'' 
 tl.e benefit of their ^utlilwaT' '"'"', '"" *'" 
 names in her roll-call of honor Smtl. T '""'"'"'^ "'"^ 
 '■ount then, among their Zk^:t^Z''Z 'r''"^ 
 
 fortunes and'^^n:;;:-;;!:';!:';: ""^ "' «'""""^' "- 
 
 Chnielim M. O'Lea^y, Ph. £)., L.L.D. 
 >»«« Mary II. ? nTZ^Tl "°" "" '° ''« •>« U'rono? Who 
 
 B-.^ejhe n Jaro^^r -:: -rx^ir r -rr °" ^ 
 
 King. Who followed Jamra U („ i ^"f -\"' '"""' "'« «»ile<l 
 tke Staart fan.ily ? What JrLht L' T \ .f"""")'"" "-n by 
 «iW King ? Who r^^nZZtt ^ ^^ V" "'"'^' "'«' *« 
 
luu 
 
 HIGHKtt READl 
 
 viouB to tlnl |yM? 1/id the Venerable consider it cppowd to the 
 Hpirit of his Ini»t^wt«? Why not? How did i.,.ui8 XIV . assume the 
 responsibility of th< Mdii/;«t!'*\ of these noble youths? ¥"\\t persons 
 were purticularily intere8t*'d in their progress ? Did Jamc-s II., seem 
 to forget them ? What of the visit he j)aid them ? What is said of 
 these youths? What nations are said to have profited through them? 
 What do you know about Louis XIV.? What Institute did the 
 Venerable found? What is its object? What do«» the onward march 
 of true civilization owe to the Venerable? What lessons are taught ? 
 What does the life of the Venerable De La Salle teach ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on the lesson, or xipcm the 
 benefits resulting from a thorough Christian education. 
 
 ODE TO THE ALMIGHTY. 
 
 1 O Tht III Eternal One ! whose presence bright 
 All space doth occupy — all motion guide, 
 Unchanged through Times all-devastating flight 
 Thou only God ! There is no god beside 
 Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! 
 Whom none can comprehend and none explore. 
 Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone, 
 Embracing all — supporting — ruling o'er — 
 Being whom we ci' I Gotl, and know no more. 
 
 2. In its sublime research, philosophy 
 
 May measure out the ocean deep — may count 
 The sands or the sun's rays ; but God ! for Tlieo 
 There is no weight nor measure ; none can mount 
 Up to Thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, 
 Thought kindled by Th '-/iiit. in vain would try 
 To trace Thy councils. Id'./ '*, a. 4 d. vL ; 
 . And thought is lost crc ; j;.oti-i .t .;-.?;, moutit :o high, 
 E'en like past moments v:,. eien-ty. 
 
 God is eter- 
 nal, omni- 
 potent, and 
 ■upreme. 
 He la above 
 all belnfpt, 
 nnd our 
 limited 
 minds can 
 neither 
 comure- 
 hena nor 
 
 f:ra8p His 
 lanscend- 
 Ing great- 
 
 Reason in 
 ▼ain seelcs 
 to fltthom 
 God's mys- 
 teries. Ev 11 
 the miehii- 
 est intelUH't 
 must ac- 
 knowledge 
 its utter 
 littleness 
 before God. 
 
ODE TO XHiJ ALMKillTV. 
 ^i. Tliou lr„n. primeval n-.thingnena did«t cull 
 
 tirst chuoH. then oxiMt.nco. Lonl ! „n Tl 
 
 I'-tonnty had it« foundation all 
 
 %ing forth i-,.mThee;,,n.,ht.joy.harmony. 
 '^"'«""«'"-"lHifts .11 beaut,! him. 
 Thy word creatc^d all, and doth create • 
 
 Thy Hplendoriiil. all .pace w.th rays divine; 
 
 hou art, anJuort, and Hhalt be glorious I great 
 L'f«-g<Ving, life-sustaining potentate. 
 
 'riM?"l'^"""^""^^^""'----"nd, 
 
 I Pheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath I 
 
 hou the beginning with the end ha«t bound 
 And beautifully nungled life and death ! ' 
 
 As sparks mount upwards .Vom the fiery blaze 
 
 ^o suns are born, so worlds spring forth fron. Thee I 
 
 And as the spangles, in the sunnv rays 
 
 Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry 
 
 Of heaven's bright army gutters in Thy praise.27 
 
 '• f/'"'"" *«'-^'^^«' J'ghted by Thy hand, 
 
 Al gay wuh hfe, all eloquent with bliss 
 
 Vh.a snail we „dlthemM>iles of crystal light. 
 - -^'«"« company of golden streams? 
 
 Lamps ofcelestial ether burning bright. 
 
 Suns hghting systems with their joyous l.ams. 
 B"t Thou to those art as the noon to-mght! 
 
 «. Yes! As a drop of water in the sea, 
 ^; *^'^' ™^8"'ficence m Thee is lost- 
 
 What are a thousand worlds compai-e^i to Thee? 
 
 101 
 
 Ood la thK 
 author and 
 •oiir«'«i of all 
 thiiiKN. Me 
 created aH 
 "»ln»pt, He 
 
 "iiKtainN 
 
 «"<I preiH'r. 
 
 VM all. H«> 
 
 was iH'fon- 
 
 lime and 
 
 nhalj \m 
 
 after ilnio. 
 
 fJod In the 
 ('reator of 
 the uni- 
 vcfHe. He is 
 the Author 
 of Life and 
 I>eath. All 
 tnlnKJt are 
 made for aii 
 end. 
 
 The myri- 
 ads of 
 bright sUra 
 in tlie flrni- 
 anient, 
 the suns 
 and sys- 
 tems are 
 but dark- 
 ness com- 
 pared to the 
 
 17°' 
 
 Jberaagni- 
 neence of 
 fiod tran- 
 scend^ all 
 tbegi„ry of 
 
102 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ! li 
 
 the world 
 and its ma- 
 gnificence 
 dwindlea to 
 naught. 
 Man is lost 
 in the infi- 
 nite splend- 
 or of God. 
 
 And what am I, when lieaven's unnuraber'd host, 
 Though multiplied by myriads, and array'd 
 In all the glor}-' of sublimest thought, 
 Ls but an atom in the balance weigh'd 
 Against Thy greatness — is a cypher brought 
 Against infinity ? What am I then ?— Naught. 
 
 ill 
 
 God fills all 
 space. His 
 Spirit 
 quickens 
 all. His 
 Spirit, too, 
 in me pre- 
 vails by His 
 grace and 
 inspiration. 
 In Him I 
 live, and 
 breathe, 
 and dwell. 
 God is our 
 end and 
 supreme 
 bappiness. 
 
 Naught ! yet the effluence of Thy light divine. 
 Pervading worlds hath reached my bosom too. 
 Yes ! in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine. 
 As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. 
 Naught ! Yet I live, and on hope's pinions fly 
 Eager toward Thy presence ; for in Thee 
 I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high. 
 Even to the throne of Thy divinity. 
 I am, O God ! and surely Thou must be ! 
 
 God is the 
 ruler and 
 governor of 
 the uni- 
 verse. Man, 
 the con- 
 necting 
 link be- 
 tween heav- 
 en Mud 
 earth, and 
 the last or- 
 der of intel- 
 ligences. 
 
 8. Thou art ; directing, guiding all. Thou art ! 
 Direct my understanding then to Thee ; 
 Control my spirit — guide my wandering heari. ; 
 Though but an atom 'midst immensity, 
 Still I am something fashion'd by Thy hand. 
 I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth, 
 On the last verge of mortal being stand, 
 Close to the realm where angels have their birth, 
 Just on the boundary of the spirit land ! 
 
 iiiil 
 
 Man is the 9. . The chain of being is complete in me ; 
 completion ° ^ 
 
 of God's In me is matter's last gradation lost, 
 creation. ° ' 
 
 He^com- And the next step is Spirit— Deity ! 
 
 «>ir!t.' *The ^ ^^^ Command the lightning, and am dust ! 
 
 wonder of ^ monarch and a slave ; a worm, a god : . 
 
ODE TO THE ALMIGHTY. 
 
 Whence «»e I here, and how?, o„a.vel,o„„, 
 ton,tn,e,«, a„.i conceived !-„„k„„„ , ^i, clod 
 
 L.v« surely through ,o„e higher energy . 
 From out iMf alone it c„„M„„t^^^ 
 
 10. Creator? ye,; Thy wi«,om and Thy „rf 
 ^reatedu,. Thou source of life and good I 
 
 ".v'.gh.,Ti,y ,0V, in their bright plenitude. 
 Fi"dn,ew.th an i„,„ortal.oul, to spring 
 
 Over the abysa of death, and b«,e it wear 
 Tli- garments of eternal day, and wing 
 I^ heavenly flight beyond the littl. sphere. 
 Even to .ts source, to Thee, its author, Th«,, 
 
 11.0 thought ineflablelO vision blest r 
 
 (Though worthless our conception all of Thee) 
 
 YeUha Thy .hadoWd image fll, our breast 
 And waft Its homage to Thy Deity 
 
 G«l- thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar. 
 
 M,dst Thy vast works, admire, obey, ador! 
 And when the tongue is eloquent no more 
 The soul shall speak in tears its gmtitude. 
 
 103 
 
 his con- 
 struction 
 andthepres- 
 ervation 
 of his life, 
 comes not 
 from him- 
 self but 
 from God. 
 
 God alon6 
 
 could have 
 
 created 
 
 man, for Ho 
 
 alone pos- 
 sessed life 
 
 and Being. 
 
 Man was 
 
 created for ^■ 
 
 God alone, 
 
 for He is 
 our sover- 
 eign good 
 and last 
 •nd. 
 
 The pres- 
 ence of 
 God Alls 
 our souls 
 with rap- 
 ture. We 
 admire, 
 obey, and 
 adore God. 
 and thus 
 render Him 
 our humble 
 service to 
 gain His 
 presence 
 ab«ve. 
 
 <^(^bnelJi. Derzkann, 
 
 Qwesfiom. — Who is dn,^ 9 mt r^ , 
 What can hun.an reason accon!,"^^^^ *« time and why not ? 
 
 How did all things co.e to exTsf L^J: 'l '' T "'^^"^"^'^ ' 
 Thy praise"? What figure is conf„T ^ '"'^''''" "^^^t^rs in 
 What is but an "atom in the aW -^^^^ i"^'^ ^^^ ^^>-":' 
 sunbeam in ..-v^ of dew-? WhaHs J. f ^^ T "'^^ ^''"^^ «- 
 and surely Thou must be.-"? Wha L !. '^''^ ^'^' ^ Godf 
 
 vvuat are the principal ideas in the 
 
104 
 
 HIGHEB READER. 
 
 eighth stanza ? What means " I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven 
 and earth " ? How is " the chain of being complete in me " ? 
 What are the words explaining the wondrous construction of man ? 
 Give the lines referring to the immortal soul. How does the soul 
 seek God's presence ? Explain the last line of the poem. Scan the 
 last stanza. 
 
 Require the pupil to ivrile this in prose. 
 
 TYPHOONS AND WATER-SPOUTS. 
 
 Sttb-sld'ing, pp., falling, remaining quiet. 
 
 nav'i-ga«)5^,t>. «., to«ai7. ^ 
 
 ab'so-lQ«s^, n., total. 
 
 9y-lTn'dri<;-al, «<(;.. Juiving the form ofacylinder. 
 
 a-bat^s', ». t, grow less, subsides. 
 
 p§r-p5n-di«'u-lar, at^'., exactly upright ; at right angles with. 
 
 eS't&B(m\<X' , v., valued. 
 
 The ships that navigate the Indian Ocean have occa- 
 sionally to encounter terrific tempests, called typhoons, 
 which are peculiar to these seas, and which, with hurri- 
 canes of the opposite hemisphere, are the most furious 
 storms that blow. 
 
 They rise with fearful rapidity, often coming on sud- 
 denly with a calm ; and before the canvas can be secured, 
 the gale is howling shrilly through the spars and rigging, 
 and the crests of the waves are torn off, and driven in 
 sheets of spray across the decks. 
 
 The lightning is terrible ; at every short interval the 
 whole space between heaven and earth is filled with vivid 
 flames, showing every rope and spar in the darkest night S 
 
TYPHOONS AND WATER-SPOUTS. IQS 
 
 which the;t, M r^rd^^^^^^^ - *edeep," 
 
 tile clouds. The edge of the pillar 
 
 sea to 
 
 pillar 18 perfectly clean and 
 
• '.i 
 
 I' 
 
 ' [ 
 
 106 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 well defined, and the effect has been compared to a column 
 of frosted glass. 
 
 A series of spiral lines run around it, and the whole 
 has a rapid spiral motion, which is very apparent, though 
 it is not always easy to determine whether it is an tiscend- 
 ing or descending line. Generally, the body of clouds 
 above descend below the common level, joining the pillar 
 in the form of a funnel, but sometimes the summit is in- 
 visible, from its becoming gradually more rare. Much 
 more constant is the presence of a visible foot ; the sea 
 being raised in a great heap, with a whirling and bubbling 
 motion, the upper part of which is lost in the mass of 
 spray and foam which is driven rapidly round. 
 
 The column, or columns— for there are frequently 
 more than one— move slowly forward with a stately and 
 majestic step, sometimes inclining to the perpendicular, 
 now becoming curved, and now taking a twisted form.' 
 Sometimes the mass becomes more and more transparent, 
 and gradually vanishes ; at others, it separates, the base 
 subsiding, and the upper portion shortening with a whirl- 
 ing motion till lost in the clouds. 
 
 The pillar is not always cylindrical ; a very frequent 
 form is that ef a slender funnel depending from the sky, 
 which sometimes retains that appearance without alter- 
 ation, or, at others, lengthens , its tube toward the sea, 
 which at the same time begins to boil and rise in a hill to 
 meet it, and soon the two unite and form a slender 
 column, as first described. 
 
 When these sublime appearances are viewed from a 
 short distance, they arc attended with a rushing noise 
 
le mass of 
 
 Vi 
 
 TYPHOONS ANI> WATEfi-SPOUTS. 107 
 
 somewhat like the roar of a cataract Ti ., 
 
 is doubtless the effect of T^ j phenomenon 
 
 lovolvinK with Itr, "V! ''''";'*'"<1 «'■ ""-rent of air 
 
 which ar! Zl rpit?"' ";'■'""' ''"' *'^<' '"- 
 the cloudy cohC ^ ^ "f" °^ ™'«'' ^"^»^'"S '" 
 
 ■ '-2o::i:rh'::ts^;Ctr"^i,^"*-sha^^ 
 
 «hips to fire a canntTt ;! t X'' ;: •^"^"^.'^ '» 
 there is any reason to dreS ' *'"■ P^"™"^' 
 
 Typhoons are seen in all mi-t* r.f ti,„ u , 
 most freqnent in the Pacific fnd IndL" Oo::^^' *"" "« 
 
 I^hilvp IT. Gosse. ■ 
 
 Questions. — Wherp f^n +lr.^k« 5 
 
 you know of their rpl^?''r'" '™7"^ "8" ^ W""' <io 
 and thunder in a typW wl, T ^" "' ""> "gh'-tag 
 Ih. cause of it? HwdotheJ, '*"''''*" ''«■■■' What i! 
 be BO guided aa "TvI tel t" w"™""' ''7 ' ^" » --' 
 
 How do they appear? DesS hei^X:' Thaf d^'^T™'' ' 
 their motion ? Describe tlie . ^ ^"^* ^^ ^o" ^now of 
 
 What is the for. Tf ttpit r^TatV^T ^' ^ ^^^^^P-*- 
 natural phenomenon of Lter-spoufet l^l^T ''"''"""» *h« 
 ««ls ? What is done to break then! ? T."^ ^^ ^*"«'^*""« ^""^ ^««- 
 vvater-spout? ^^eakthem? Did you ever see a typhoon or 
 
 '■^rning them. ^ '^''' ^ ^'"'^ ^'«^« ^*^«'-<^ ^z" rm<; con- 
 
108 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 \\t\ 
 
 \ mm 
 
 1 p 
 
 -.ii 
 
 ST. PRANOIS XAVIER.2* 
 
 Sttls^tl^, adj.. »ly in design ; artful; insinuating. 
 ju-rld'i<;-al, adj., used in courts of law or tribunals of justice. 
 dl'a-15€ts, n., local varieties of a common language. 
 gSn'tll^s, n., all Peoples who ere not Jews or Christians. 
 «og'ni-zanr?>», • judicial notice or knowledge; knowledge; 
 
 recognition. 
 <;l^T-m^r'i«-al, adj., merely imaginary ; fantastic, 
 hSr'e-sI-arclj, n., the leader or chief of a heretical sect. 
 
 The life of St. Francis Xavier, if he had been the only 
 Christian of his form and stature since the last of the 
 Apostles died, would su^ce to prove the truth of God 
 and of the Catholic Church. None but God could have 
 created, none but the Church could have used, such an 
 instrument. The world and the sects confess, with 
 mingled anger and fear, that he is not of them. Doctor, 
 prophet, and apostle — what gift which one of our race 
 can receive or use was denied to this man ? Whilst he 
 was in the world, few understood, perhaps none fully, 
 what he really wa«. It was only by tlie solemn juridical 
 process which preceded his canonization, and in which 
 evidence was adduced on oath such as would have more 
 than satisfied the most jealous and exacting tribunal 
 which ever sifted human testimony, that some of the facts 
 of his stupendous career were revealed to his fellow crea- 
 tures. 
 
 To converse at the same moment with persons of vari- 
 ous nations and dialects, so that each thought he heard 
 him speak his own tongue ; to satisfy by one reply subtle 
 and opposite questions, so that each confessed he had re- 
 
 ti J. 
 
«T. FHANcrs XAVIKI;. jq^ 
 
 ceived the solution ^^ i • 
 
 winch answerid :;; Zj-'t '"f • f { "' "» -"'« 
 
 the dead, to bid theVa ' , 1 . ,?' *''" ''''^''"- *° ™«« 
 
 fie-tiles called i.imttWv,:^"' f""' '" *'"" "'« ^^^ 
 "''tu'-e;" «„eh we e ri™?.'''"^"/^' " «'« God of 
 ^'P'^'tle. Yet tin-., Z „Thk " «"^*' "^ ">'« et-^^t 
 humility, charity,!^C 1? '^'T^'^- ^' "^ hi., 
 
 -■AGodwl.ioht.red"L^r Vnf 't*""'": -»- 
 des was no necessary ,,art Tf IT t ° '""''' ■""*- 
 Yet this lower cift IJT L^ ''^'"^^'" "' office, 
 
 othe., to those whLh Tad X:l^ ^^d' ' P ""?""«" "^ ' 
 "nd disciple of Jesus, ^ '^'^ ''"" ^e friend 
 
 To such as possess the mft of feiH, 1 , . ■ , . 
 
 v.ne things are apprehen^dj^ 'tt 1 fe'ofxt " "'" 
 hook written by the hand of r a ™'"' '* <« » 
 
 "Ptery. It is'l'ntel ^ eLnt'It M ''T.' " "'"^^ 
 'tniay exoite-love iov Ir !^. . "''• Admiration 
 -.rprise. The Chu^iCl^t ^^ ^?''^*'""8 •"" 
 with Christ, a thonsati s"l^If:L"" n""" "P°"*'« 
 <iuce saints, she would ceasl to li % , I'T '° ^">- 
 o"'.arri™whenthenun.b:::^,,f;Lf;oi-'„::;' 
 
 '•-:."'"X"ar:- rrf -r ^""^«' - ^ «'°- of of. 
 
 Peevish and irrftled ':;''' '"' ""'"''' •"" 'W a- 
 Why spoil the ™ ,:«;^'lfT.''t" °f '•'^ '»'^-'-- 
 fobles? .Such deeds JL; /of , * "'*. "^^^ =<"« 
 affront their Rood sense !! T i. '*«""'*"''«' "d 
 
 '- the injudilTg^ ;; f,,tLV; "t"" ''™ 
 
 good and devoted man but ll f '• ^« *"« * 
 
 ^ies healed and grav":'::p^n":d'^' Z^^t' '"^'''- ' 
 o-»y Miracles werftolerablerthrt :;:::: 
 
 . ■• I 
 
110 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Ilill' 
 
 these are now a long way oft", and so is God. He must 
 not be brought too near us. He is in heaven, and we on 
 earth ; why seek to diminish tlie distance between us ? 
 
 True, He promise'^, that His servents should do such 
 things, and they did them ; it can not be denied, at least 
 not openly, since it is written in the Scriptures. Even 
 the " shadow" of an apostle falling on the sick is said to 
 have dispelled their infirmities ; and though it is a hard 
 saying, and takes no account of the " laws of nature, " 
 and is directly reproved by modern science, it must be 
 believed, whatever effort it may cost. But surely there 
 are enough of such things in the Bible. Why add to 
 them ? Why should our Lord create apostles now ? 
 They are dead and buried, and have left no successors ; it 
 is irrational to pretend to revive them. And so these 
 critics cut the life of St. Francis in two; accept that 
 which is natural, and fling away that which is super- 
 natural. His virtues they pardon, not without a struggle ; 
 but they can go no further. Like Pilate, they fear to 
 condemn, but can not resolve to acquit. 
 
 But they have a special motive for denying his super- 
 natural powers, and they do not conceal it. They are so 
 far, indeed, from understanding the character of a saint, 
 that they do not even believe in the existence of one. 
 Why should the Almighty have made any thing higher 
 than themselves ? "A good man," as they speak, who is 
 of a benevolent mind, gives alms, says his prayers, and 
 reads the Scriptures — this is the loftiest type of humanity 
 which they are able to conceive. All beyond this is 
 visionary and chimerical. Such a man as St. Francis is 
 ma wholly unkjiown io them as he is to the inanimate 
 
 .m 
 
ST. FRANCIS XAVIER. jjj 
 
 ereatures— the unshapen rocks tho ,.,,1 • 
 
 the waving tree. But h! I ""^' '^^^''''' ^"^^ 
 
 was aooomplished ij„"f '^ Po^er with God . 
 
 tl-ir dead rais d to Ifet^ ', ',"•'';(■'' " 7«-"eeeived 
 'Vom the dead Fv>,Jhr^ .■ " *''°" ^^ '^^^^^ - 
 Society ofJeru;B"t,T.; J ''™'"'''" ""'^^'^ *« 
 aimtle, whichh truth iT* '"' "'''"""'■^ *»* "« "" 
 
 ..-w;are.;:i:i?eort:n^^^^^^^ 
 *>. except hytheS;:;-L^:rj:-^^^--o«M 
 
 St. Francis has described m t«o,. i 
 of preaching and instruotTon Z^ ^ ''^ '''' ""'"'«' 
 that which passes wordf it f ™'''''' °™ «^hibit 
 
 was t^o be\elieXdirC.r:Lt"rd*" ^t" 
 liecommencpd •«,.;! +v. i. *^ ^® done—that 
 
 < " twice a dav fn? ' *' ^^ver crcumstiinces allow- 
 
 wh^taburdanttuit^MWriHr"''''' -^"^ ^"^ '''-' 
 that his biographers sav-n ^!?'"™ ''""^'""S' ^» 
 
 - idea of tfohtvITf sous Ton: ''^r'' *° «'™ 
 an infant Church in it, fllTf ^ ''°''''' *•"■% of 
 
 «<>r holy aposuf Tl ,f ™''' "'^'"'' '^'^^ "'tende,! 
 
 own, thatT :; nof ; 7'"' '" ^ '"^^ ^ ^t. Ig„ati,„. , 
 
 •'--..-. r„::tt]:strL£rt;tLT 
 
112 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 .li'i 
 
 »f 'I 
 
 ! l! 
 
 s >; \f 
 
 baptism were so nuinerous, that he was unable to go on 
 raising his arm to make the Sign of the Cross in the 
 administration of the sacrament, and that his voice 
 literally became extinct, from the incessant repetition of 
 the Creed, the Commandments, and a certain brief ad- 
 monition of the duties of the Christian life, the bliss of 
 heaven, the pains of hell, and what good or evil deeds 
 lead to one or the other." 
 
 A few words will suffice about the actual results of his 
 labors. When the saint entered the kingdom of Travan 
 core, he found it entirely idolatrous ; but when he left it 
 after a few months' residence, it was entirely Christian. 
 Along the coast he founded no fewer than forty-five 
 churches. And as the labors of the first ape ^tles were 
 " confirmed by signs following," so innumerable miracles 
 attested the continual presence of the Holy Ghost with 
 this man of God. Even children, armed with some object 
 which had touched his person, his cross, or his rosary, 
 were able to cast out devils and heal the sick, and were 
 often employed by him for such purposes, when his own 
 occupations left him no leisure to accept the invitations 
 which pressed upon him from all parts. At Malacca, a 
 mother whose child had been three days in the grave, 
 came to him in faith, and desired that the lost one might 
 be restored ; for, said she, " God grants all things to your 
 prayers." — " Go," he replied, " and open the t< mb ; you 
 will find her alive." And thereupon, in presence of a 
 vast concourse of spectators, who had assembled to witness 
 the miracle, for his power was known, the stone was 
 removed, the graved opened, and the young girl was 
 found alive. 
 
 » ! 
 
ST. FRANCIS XAVIER. jjg 
 
 l"s death no fewer t),^ 7 .'■""'' '""''' '' »»<» '«« «t 
 l-mleta addedTo h^ lr„:^'T';: *.''""^' ^'"%- »J 
 
 thousand Ch4tia,.8 nlhf h ! ""*" '*" ''""''••''d 
 
 coasts starting fZclr ''"'"^'''''* "'""S ">« '"o 
 
 which they encountered Z ^ *''^ oourage with 
 
 "-"bytheGentt wht^L"i"^r^'■'''"'^ "«'"-' ^ 
 »", even mere children ™:,n '"'"'^'"8 *'"'''• &'«'. 
 
 the executioner ' ''^ '"•'*™*«'' tl-^-- ™cks to 
 
 l™ appeared'In ea ih 'CTlS' T'T'^^' P*^''^'^' 
 l«ca,^ he was firmly knU to p!'. ^""'' *»»',''« Prevailed 
 ft waa in the mi.hTof her Kl 'f *" '''^ ^°'y S««- 
 
 »nd without it he wouldT T"« *•""' ^' "«'" ^rth, 
 
 a Wic-perhir heih""atTV 1'°"'"^ """ 
 unprofitable rhet^rican ' " "■ *"•'"''"' *"" 
 
 the^Holy Gh^rthaTH! "'^" *^»«"' "^ «°d. and full of 
 Heart of JesuUafthtV^ Tf ''"'"^ "^ '^' Sacred 
 and delivered to othe ^t^t ^ '"*'' "*"* ""^ ''^"-^'' 
 tionof.heMosTHtnrdttt .r** P^'^'"' '■^-'- 
 
 -ngelized he did" an ^l^^^ ^^ ^ "^'1 '^ 
 »F>.stle's reward ; these are tr„tl.! 1%. ^""'^^ "« 
 
 ^ave doubted, r.^S27j^''Z'^V TT ?" '" "''" 
 ment, or sin obscured if orprl atfl ^^""^"^'^r ^"^8" 
 a root.-™ f- J~ • V P™® ^^ passion had aiipp!i«i 
 ^"^ ""'^'"« "*"" the Gentiles themselve^^le^ 
 
 - f ' ■ 
 
lU 
 
 . HIGHER READER. 
 
 blind and porvorse, and moved by hotter and purer in- 
 atincta, were conHtrained to admit and proeiaim. 
 
 Thoman Williain M. MarmhaU. 
 
 Quealions. — What tlooB the life of Si. Frunoi.s i)rov((? What throe 
 grout gifta did he receive from Ood? When and where wuh this 
 proven? How could our ChriHtian Hero speak to all peopUi not 
 knowing their dialects? What ia the life of St Francis to such as 
 possess the faith ? What ia it to others who do not have this great 
 blessing? Who gave the apostle such great powers? What do 
 modem thinkers believe concerning miracles ? What is their opinion 
 of holiness? Can you prove that St. P'rancis had the gift of miracles'.' 
 Give several instances. Whnt further proof have you that Ood was 
 with him? What were the results of his laboi*s? What is it that 
 gave him such success ? Whj^t was the simple manner of his apostle- 
 ship ? What does he say of it jn a letter to St. Ignatius? Who was 
 St. Ignatius? What is known particularly concerning the cause of his 
 conversion? How did he win St. Francis? What were the particular 
 words that he repeated to him ? Where did their meeting take place? 
 What was the result? Give the idea of the author's concluding 
 words. What are the lessons taught ? What errors does the writer 
 point out? How does he refute them V 
 
 Require the pujyil to write a composition on the lesson, taking six 
 special thoughts for its development. — Let him recite the lesson in his 
 own words. 
 
 THE CLOUD. 
 
 1. I bring iresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
 
 From the seas and the streams; 
 I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
 
 In their noon-day dreams; 
 . From ray wipgs are shaken the dews that waken 
 
 The sweet buds every one 
 
THE CLOUD. 
 
 Aa she dances ahout the Hun 
 I wield the flail of tlie luHhing hail 
 
 And whiten the groonphiiMs under; 
 And then again I di.ssolve it in rain, 
 And laugh a« I pans in thunder. 
 
 2. I «ift the snow on the mountain below, 
 And their great pines groan aghast; 
 
 Aiuial the night 'tis my pillow white 
 
 While I sleep on the arms of the blLt. 
 
 Sub me on the towers of my skyey bowers, 
 Lightnnig my pilot, sits ; 
 
 In a cavern under is fettered the thunder- 
 It struggles and howls by fits 
 
 Tl^'^'"^'T'"^^^^'^"^^«-«tion, 
 11118 pilot IS guiding me 
 
 Lured by the love of the g;nii that move 
 In the deptns of the purple sea; 
 
 7 !."'^^^"^ '^'' '''^'^' ^^"^ the hills 
 Over the lakes and the plains, 
 
 ine spirit ho loves remains • ' 
 And I all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile 
 While he is dissolved in rains. ' 
 
 ^' ^ AiTf'r '""'^''' ^^^^^ ^"« "^^t^-r eyes. 
 And his burning plumes outspread 
 
 leaps on the back of my sailing rack; 
 When the morning star shines dead' 
 
 - J -o "t «- iiionuuun crag, 
 Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
 
 116 
 
116 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 An eagle, alit, one moment may sit, 
 
 In the light of its golden wings. 
 And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath 
 
 Its orders of rest and love, 
 And the crimson pall of eve may fall 
 
 From the depth of heaven above. 
 With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, 
 
 As still as a brooding dove. 
 
 i 'I 
 
 4. That orbid maiden, with white fire laden, 
 
 Whom mortals call the moon, 
 Glides glimmering over my fleece-like floor, 
 
 By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
 And whenever the beat of her unseen feet, 
 
 Which only the angels hear. 
 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. 
 
 The stars peep behind her and peer ; 
 And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 
 
 Like a swarm of golden bees, 
 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent 
 
 Till the calm rivers, lakes and seas. 
 Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 
 
 Are each paved with the moon and these. 
 
 5. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone. 
 
 And the moon with a girdle of pearls ; 
 The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim. 
 
 When the hurricanes my banner unfurl, 
 From cape to cape with a bridge-like shape, 
 
 Over a torrent sea. 
 Sunbeam proof, I hang like a root : 
 
 The mountains its columns be. 
 
THE CLOUD. 
 
 117 
 
 The triumphal arch through which I march 
 
 With liurricaiie, fire, and snow, 
 When the powers of the air are chained to my chair 
 
 Is a milhon-colored bow • ^ 
 
 The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 
 * ^^'^' ^^'^ "^«^«t ^^^-th was laughing below. 
 
 6. I am the daughter of earth and water. 
 And the nursling of the sky • 
 I pa.s through the pores of the'ocean and shores • ' 
 
 I change but I cannot die ' 
 
 For after the rain, when with never a stain 
 Ihe pavilion ofheaven is bare, 
 
 I silently laugh at my own cenotaph 
 And out of the caverns of rain 
 
 I'erci/ Bysahe Shelley. 
 
 the dews that waken " ? Exd ain t J, 7 .'"^ *'"«" """ ''"'ken 
 Ihe second stanza ' Exolain h 7! '"''°"' ""> "fo'en of in 
 |l.e tat two lines of the ^"nd I i' VL! f"'"* ""'': ^'^'^"' 
 line of the third .,(onza ? r,n , "«"'''' '» *« "J'«n>nK 
 
 other flgnres. What "the S"n.X'" 'e^ r^ """ '■°'»' ""' 
 the stanza. Can you describe whaT'SL i^^^ '" ""»"'°8 '" 
 »pohen Of in the iast stanza. ^^^S"' '""' '' 
 Betmre tU pupU ,o mrile IhU poem in pr«e. 
 
 I4l 
 

 118 
 
 HIGHEH READER. 
 
 THE SCENERY OF CANADA. 
 
 bound'a-ri^§, «., a limit; a bound. 
 
 in'fia-en9 ®s, n.. moral power ; pmcer of acting on aemibility. 
 o-ver-mas'ter-ing, adj., overcoming ; overpowering. 
 ho-mo-gS'ne-ot^s, adj., of the same kind or nature. 
 
 e-c5n'o-mist, n., one who expends money, time or labor, judiciously, 
 
 and without waste. 
 ar-€h'i-td€t-ure, n., one skilled in the art of building. 
 per-plSx'i-ties, »., intricacy ; entanglement. 
 
 ddg-ra-dS'tion, n., a reducing in rank; deposition ; removal from 
 office. 
 
 re-tard'ed, v. t., to diminish the velocity in motion; to render more 
 slow in progress. 
 
 I 
 
 He is not a wise Nova Scotiau who shuts himself up 
 within the boundaries of his own little province, and, 
 wasting life amidst the narrow prejudices and evil pap- 
 BiocB of his own contracted sphere, vegetates and dies, 
 regardless of the growing communities and widely extend- 
 ing influences by which the interests of his country are 
 affected every day, and which may at no distant period, 
 if not watched and counteracted, control its destinies with 
 an overmastering and resistless power. 
 
 The question has been put to us twenty times in a day 
 since we returned home, " What do you think of Canada ?" 
 and as it is likely to be many times repeated, we take this 
 early opportunity of recording our conviction that it is 
 one of the noblest countries that it has ever been our 
 good fortune to behold. Canada wants two elements of 
 prosperity which the lower colonies possess — open harbors 
 for general commerce, and a homogeneous popula,tion ; but 
 it ha.s got every tiling else that the most fastidious political 
 
THE SCENERY OF CANADA. ^g 
 
 ecoimmist would require. We knew tUt n a 
 
 very extensive province, that the "lt,„^^^^^^^^^^ "^'^ ^ 
 
 "1 Jt, and that much of hp «.,•! ^^'^^"^^ '^^^^^ fine scenery 
 
 ^>" thi« a great ^^ me " wltT ' '"T. '^ ''^^ 
 ing some weeks i„ tLent'Jl fe r!.°"'^ ^^ "f*"**" 
 one becomes really aHveTo f,t J "' ^-^ ''™"'''y *»' 
 national ^^'^inrj, CntClZ^^t^' "^ «""' 
 
 that he become awar7„n? T'' '•'"•«^'- *''™ «" oagle, 
 
 a volume or two of dccln!! !,-^ ? "'' * P''"'^''' "f 
 -«'eco™tr, l/mrtt^rCn-^'"--^- 
 
 4::rtt:LS;tdr''r ^^'^-^ -- ^ 
 
 "... past both in thirty"™ ; L Ja , ''^"'■'^*' *'" 
 
 i-bo„t six hundred LJrandfe wh^nt^^h^"*" 
 there, you are but upon the threshold „? f> '™ «°' 
 
 For two days and nights you stelm „I f" P"""""- 
 
 the estnary of the ^^udZTTitjl """. ^"*^"'« 
 «P«ed, with Canada on both des ot^o„ Tt ^''^'^' 
 are beneath the shadow of Cane n / V"*^ '''"'" y™ 
 think that you have Z. ' T ^ ^'f^ond, you begin to 
 
 that CanadI, as ":;!:; , ~ ! « **r '»'-'^- 
 of a place. "But aiakvo , k ' " »»«derable 
 
 St. Lawrence, f f hu'n dredt!:, ' ?' ^''''"" "^ *'- 
 '0 Montreal; 'and there ^m"'?'''^ ■""- ^^ther, . 
 
 to -tinne your route „?toa,l!?I^Zi:;j!::: 
 
120 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 11' 
 
 I -I 
 
 ii 1 
 
 at a greater distance from you than you ai'e from the sea 
 for the northern limits of Canada. But you probably 
 prefer adhering to the St. Lawrence, ixs we did ; and on 
 we go, by coach and steam-boat, for forty-eight hours 
 more, and find yourself at Kingston. Looking back upon 
 the extent of land and water you have passed, you begin 
 to fancy that, if not near the end of the world, you ought 
 at least to be upon the outside edge of Canada. But it is 
 not so. You have only reached the central point chosen 
 for the seat of government ; and although you are a thou- 
 sand mile» from the sea, you may pass on west for an- 
 other thousand miles, and yet it is all Canada. 
 
 But the mere extent of' the country would not perhaps 
 impress the mini so strongly if there were not so much 
 of the vast, the magnificent, the national, in all its lead- 
 ing features. It is impossible to fancy you are in a pro- 
 vince — ? colony ; you feel at every step that Canada must 
 become a great nation ; and at every step you pray most 
 devoutly for the descent upon the country of that wisdom, 
 and foresight, and energy which shall make it the great 
 treasury of British institutions upon this continent, and 
 an honor to the British name. All the lakes of Scotland 
 throws 1 together would not make one of those great inland 
 seas, which form, as it were, a chain of Mediterraneans : 
 all the rivers of England, old father Thames included, 
 would scarcely fill the channel of the St. Lawrence. 
 There is a grandeur in the mountain ranges, and a voice 
 in the noble cataracts, which elevate the spirit above the 
 ignorance and the passions of the past, and the perplex- 
 ities of the present, and make us feel that the great 
 v-^^reator oi tiic uni verso never meant such a country to bo b 
 
THE HEliOINE OF VERCHERES. 121 
 
 the scene of peri^tual discord and degradation, h„t will 
 
 yet ,n,p,re the people with the union, the virtue and the 
 
 true patnofsm by which alone ita political and >Jm 
 cond,t,o„ ,,.,„ b, ,„,.^^ 4^ ^^^^^ ^^_.^ a 
 
 "ow the impress of it« natural features. Canrfa i, • 
 -untry t. be proud of; to inspire high thouSs tl 
 ohensh a love for the sublime and beautift.l ; and'to iZ 
 to stand amongst the nations of the Earth, i„ spite of all 
 
 «nXT >""' """'' '''™ '^"'"^'o retardedfand may 
 Still retard, its progress. ^ ^ 
 
 Joseph Howe. 
 Qiiestwns-~^\,^i doe« he say of those who renmin alone in their 
 eiemente wanting to the prosperity of Canada? Is it the case now? 
 
 ^r; i To tnra?o""'^*T^ -' ''■ ^^^-'^^ ^^zn 
 
 apply It to Canada? Give an idea of tJie extent of the country 
 What in^presseg the mind more than its extent ? How does hTsneS 
 of the scenery ? Recite his concluding remarks. ^ 
 
 Meqwire the pupU to W7iie a composUion on Canada. 
 
 1 1 * *'i I 
 
 THE HEROINE OP VEROHERES.29 
 
 Among the many incidents that are preserved of Fron- 
 tenac 8 ^troubled second administration, none are so well 
 worthy of record as the defence of the fort at Vercheres 
 by the young daughter of the seignior. Some years later 
 the story was written down from the heroine s own re- 
 ci tai. 
 
122 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Vercheres is on the .south shore of the St. Lawrence, 
 about twenty miles below Montreal. A strong block- 
 house stood outside the fort, and was connected with it 
 by a covered way. 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-second of October, 1692, 
 the inhabitants were at work in the fields, and nobody 
 was left in the place but two soldiers, two boys, an old 
 man of eighty, an- ^ a number of women and children. 
 The seignior was on duty at Quebec, and his wife was at 
 Montreal. Their daughter Madeleine, fourteen years of 
 age, was at the landing-place, not far from the gate of 
 the fort, with a hired man. Suddenly i\he heard firing 
 from the direction where, the settlers were at work, and 
 an instant after the man cried out, " Run, Miss, run ! 
 here come the Iroquois ! " ^i She turned and saw forty 
 or fifty of them at the distance of a pistol-shot. " I ran 
 for the fort. The Iroquois who chased me, seeing that 
 they could not catch me alive before I reached the gate, 
 stopped and fired at me.^^ ^j^g bullets whistled about 
 my ears, and made the time seem very long. As soon 
 as I was near enough to be heard, I cried out, ' To arms ! 
 to arms ! ' At the gate I found two women weeping for 
 their husbands, who had just been killed. I made them 
 go in, and then I shut the gate. I next thought what I 
 could do to save myself and the few people who were 
 with me. 
 
 " I went to mspect the fort, and found that several 
 palisades had fallen down, and left, openings hy which the 
 enemy could easily get in. I ordered them to be set up 
 again, and helped to carry them myself. When the 
 breaohe.? were stopped, T went to the block-house where 
 
THE HEROINE OP VEBCHEEE3. 123 
 
 the ammunition w.« kept, and here I found the two 
 
 with tut match ./'\':sf;d. H i:l^'' ?srth° 
 
 i^wder and blow „„ all „p. • - Y„„ Z:tiJColl' 
 
 :^i hr„ti«,«° °"' °^ *"'^ p'-- ■ I ^po-'e - -o.ut:; 
 
 fight to the delh.^ W are fiZ T *'""' ' ^'' "^ 
 ourRelimm. p f "* "§"'' o' for our ooantry and 
 
 people in' he neiSSd^ '' "' '"'"'""''« *•>« 
 
 f-Mie^ Who :erh:;:;inrat'rr„erp:r ti? 
 
 a canoe was seen approach i no- ih. } j- -^^^sentiy 
 
 »:: zii^r^^uz th? '^•^""'■^ ^^^"^ ^«" 
 
 killp^ if o .1 ^* *^^ new-comers would be 
 
 not e,„al to the af m;^^' «t he^tuC'^- rr-"'" ' 
 place, and w. ahle to L™ the Ffre^f '^t 
 
II 
 
 I ' 
 
 Iftl Jll 
 
 « ,l'l 
 
 124 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 thoy were all landed, sho made tluMii march before her in 
 full sight of the enemy. They put ho bold a face on it 
 that the Iroquois thou<^ht they themselves had most to 
 fear. 
 
 " After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, 
 accompanied with snow and hail. The Iroquois were 
 meanwhile lurking about us; and I judged by their 
 movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm, 
 they would climb into the fort under cover ol the dark- 
 ness. I assembled all my troops, that is to eiy, f4ix per- 
 sons, and spoke thus to them : ' God ha.s saved us to-day 
 from the hands of our enemies, but we must take care not 
 to fall into their snares to-night. I will take charge of 
 the fort with an old man of eighty, and you, Fontaine, 
 with our two soldiers, will go to the block-house with the 
 women and children, because it is the strongest place. 
 If I am taken, don't surrender, even if I am cut to pieces 
 and burned before your eyes. The enemy cannot hurt 
 you in the block-house, if yon make the least show of a 
 fight. 
 
 " I placed my young brothers on two of the bastions, 
 the old man on the third, while I took the fourth ; and 
 all night, in spite of the wind, snow and hail, the cries of 
 ' All's well ' were kept up from the block-house to the 
 fort, and from the fort to the block-house. The Iroquois 
 thought the place was full of soldiers, and Avere com- 
 pletely deceived, as they confessed afterwards. 
 
 " I may say with truth, that I did not eat or sleep for 
 twice twenty-four hours, but kept always on the bastion, 
 or went to the block-house to see how the people there 
 were behaving. I always kept a cheerful and smilin<^ 
 
 !i '■ ! 
 
THE HEROINE OP VERCHERES. 125 
 
 went up .t once to tl.e ba«tio„H,ul ,rted, ' Who ^e^ou'' 
 .X;:;~ ''''^ ^^ F.„e.™e„,w„oU 
 
 tliere, a.,,i wont ,lown to the river to meet them A, 
 
 »oo„ aa I ,aw the officer, I ,ah,ted hi„,, and .,ai Sir I 
 
 ..render my arm« to you.' He aLwere.) .alla^k 
 
 They are ah-eady in good liands.' ^' 
 
 " He inspected the fort and fbnnd every thin, in orde,- 
 
 Frands Parkman. 
 
 Questiom.-\V\yo was the heroine of Vercheres? Wh. • ^r 
 cheres? Who was about to attack the f "ho^^^^^^^^^ 
 laborers m thp fipU ? \\t\. ■, , apprised the 
 
 the fort? Whom did she find t?^ k, , u ''"^ '^'> °" """"« »' 
 
 WhoaidedherinthM ele ft efor' hI " "T^ :i"''"™^' 
 watch? How did »he «.ve the Fontat fam^K , 7, '"^ ^"^ '"«'' 
 a week's ceaseless w«(p1, 9 \in ™ ""' * "ho arrived aft.r 
 
 other i„sta„r"ive„t,.eTy '° "'" """'■•^ W'"" 
 
 given m the Reader of a simdar character ? 
 
 ,/ _mtuu., of Joan oj Arc, J.am^ JiacheUe, and JvdUh 
 Let htm. recue the lesson in his mm words. 
 
 
 
 " .^V 
 
i ill 
 
 I' 
 
 li I'l 
 
 li 
 
 126 HIGHER READER. 
 
 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. 
 
 Break, break, break 
 
 On thy cold, gray stones, Sea I 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 
 The thoughts that arise in roe. 
 
 Oh, well for the fisherman's boy 
 
 That he shouts with his sister at play ! 
 
 Oh, well for the sailor-lad 
 
 That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 
 
 And the stately ships go on, 
 
 To the haven under the hill ; 
 But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 
 And the sound of a voice that is still 1 
 
 Break, break, break. 
 
 At the foot of thy crags, Sea ! 
 But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
 
 Will never come back to me. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Questio7is.— What is the meaning of this subject ? What does he re- 
 present to himself ? What would he fain give utterance to? Why 
 can not he give expression to his thoughts? Can language expre,4 
 every thought ? What is the meaning of the second stanza ? What 
 recollections are recalled in the third stanza ? Explain the fourth ? 
 How is the opening line to be read? What is the metre of this ex- 
 quisite poem ? 
 
 Require the pupil to wrU^ a comjiosition on the poem, taking each 
 ufanza as a point. Let him introduce the poem to einJieUis^h ki>> 
 writing. 
 
THE SHIPWEECK. 
 
 127 
 
 THE SmPWREOK. 
 
 1. At half-pa.st eight o'clock, booms, lion-coops, spars 
 And a I things, for a chanco, had been ca,sl loa^; 
 
 I hat stiil could keep afloat the struggling tars 
 For yet tliey strove, although ot no great use. 
 
 Ihere w^xs no light in heaven but a few stars ; 
 The boats put off", o'ercrowded with their crew. • 
 
 ►She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port 
 
 And gomg down head fore most-sunk, in short. 
 
 2. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell • 
 
 Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave ; 
 I hen some leaped overboard, with dreadful yell 
 
 As eager to anticipate their grave ; 
 And the sea yawned round her like a hell 
 
 And down she sucked with her the whirling wave 
 Like one who grapples with his enemy 
 And strive to strangle him before he die. 
 
 3. And first a universal shriek there rushed 
 Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash 
 
 Ot echonig thunder ; and then all was hushed 
 Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 
 
 Ot billows ; but at intervals there gushed 
 Accompanied with a convulsive splash ' 
 
 A solitary shriek— the bubbling cry 
 
 Of some strong swimmer in his agony. 
 
 George Gordon, Lord Byron 
 
1 1 
 
 > m 
 
 m 
 
 I III 
 
 128 
 
 HIOHKIl REAUER. 
 
 the sfcond stanza? What ruoanH the figure "liko on.) win. 
 grappleH " ? Explain " the nm yawned round her lil{o a hell." Ex 
 plain " louder than the loud ocean." What wa8 the solitary shriek " 
 How many ideas are expressed in the third stanza? Scan the first 
 stanza. 
 
 liequire Ihr pupU U) wiHte marginal notea, and write a lUeran, 
 n nali/m of the poem. 
 
 Let him ivrUe a comjwgUion an a Shipiorecl; irUroducing a 
 stanza, and other poirUs he may have heard or read. 
 
 THE HEAD AND THE HEART. 
 
 The head is stately, calm, and wise, 
 
 And bears a princely part; 
 And down below in secret lies 
 
 The warm, impulsive heart. 
 The lordly head that sits above. 
 
 The heart that beats below. 
 Their several office plainly prove, 
 
 Their true relation show. 
 The head, erect, serene, and cool, 
 
 Endowed with reason's art, 
 Was set aloft to guide and rule 
 
 The throbbing, wayward heart. 
 And from the head, as from the higher. 
 
 Comes every glorious thought ; 
 And in the heart's transforming fire. 
 
 All noble deeds are wrought. 
 Yet each is best when both unite 
 
 To make the man complete ;-7- 
 What were the heat without the light? 
 
 The light, without the heat ? 
 
 Johii, G. Saxe. 
 
 The calm 
 and wInu 
 head and 
 theiiuptiU 
 live henrt. 
 
 The office 
 and relation 
 which ex- 
 l8titbetw(f II 
 them. 
 
 The head 
 being thr 
 BPatot 
 reason if ly 
 nature Hi I 
 to rule lh(! 
 heart. 
 
 From the 
 head couii! 
 all noble 
 thought.s 
 and from 
 the heart nil 
 KenerouH 
 deeds. 
 
 Both arc 
 necessary to 
 complete 
 man. He 
 could ftot 
 
 li^o WUil 
 
 their light 
 and heat. 
 
flrr-K-woRMs. 
 
 liko uiio who 
 ouhnll." Ex- 
 jolitary Bhrick " 
 
 Scan tho fir>*l 
 
 iriie a liter an/ 
 introducing a. 
 
 120 
 
 iT. 
 
 The calm 
 and wiNt) 
 head and 
 tho iiu|iul- 
 ■Ive hunrt. 
 
 The offlco 
 and relation 
 which ex- 
 Istiibtitwc* II 
 them. 
 
 The bead 
 being the 
 Hoat ot 
 reason in ly 
 nature m t 
 to rule th(> 
 heart. 
 
 From the 
 head coniu 
 ftll noble 
 thou^ht.i 
 and frum 
 t lie heart all 
 Kenerous 
 deeds. 
 
 Both arc 
 
 necessary to 
 complete 
 man. He 
 could hot 
 
 liTo Iv ibil 
 
 their light 
 and heat. 
 
 »i<u.io„i. „,„.,„ i„z ':;„«:*"/ '\»" "■" I"-'? What 
 
 h«her" refer? Exriain i., f^l ^ ^ ^^ ''™ ' 7» "/-". «.- 
 I'li'le wMliout tho heart 7 What d,„.. h k ^ ""-' '"' '"'•""'" 
 
 What !«»»„, .„ taught , ""'" •^'^ "■" '■wt repr«„t? Tlu. head ? 
 
 pe. 
 
 SILK-WORMS. 
 
 «rry?a"lid;r»T '* ? '"*-'"'" -*■ *»""•'» "■"■' 
 «o'mA, n., rf«?ep afcg,,^. /^,/^„,.^^ 
 
 nox ife^ds, a4/., .,vtt„V>tt« ; hurtful. 
 aen, arfj., op^y dexterous. 
 fir-0.mfit'ic,e,e(/.,/.„^,„„,. 
 dl.mln'a-trvst,«rf,'..t;ery«^/,. 
 
-.,.JILL„.„ . J 
 
 130 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 At the end of a period of fifteen or twenty days, the 
 moths come out of the cocoons. They free themselves by 
 first ejecting a fluid which dissolves a portion of the co- 
 coon. All moths, the wings of which are expanded at 
 the time of their birth, are regarded as useful, whereas 
 those which have crumpled wings, no eyebrows, and aro 
 without down, are considered useless, and at once de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 After a day, the male moths are removed, and the 
 females, each having been placed on a sheet of coarse 
 paper, begin to lay their eggs. In the silk districts of the 
 north, owing, I suppose, to the severity of the climate, 
 pieces of cloth are used instead of sheets of paper. The 
 number of eggs which one moth lays, is generally five 
 hundred, and the period required for her to perform so 
 great a labor, is, I believe, about seventy-four hours. The 
 females often die almost immediately after they have laid 
 their eggs, and the males do not long survive them. 
 
 The egg of the silk-worm, which is of a whitish, or 
 pale ash color, is not larger than a grain of mustard seed. 
 When eighteen days old the eggs are carefully washed 
 with spring water. The sheet of coarse paper or piece of 
 cloth on which they were laid, and to which they adhere , 
 is very gently drawn through spring water contained in 
 a wooden or earthenware bowl. During the autumnal 
 months the eggs are carefully kept in a cool chamber, the 
 sheets of paper of pieces or cloth being suspended back to 
 back from bamboo rods placed in a horizontal position. 
 
 In the tenth month of the Chinese year, which corre- 
 sponds with our December, the sheets are rolled up. and 
 then deposited in a room which is well swept, and free 
 
• SILK-WORMS. 
 
 131 
 
 from all noxious influences. On the tl.inl .1 
 
 twelfth mo,)th the e.r.,s .r« • ,'\^ '^^»>^ ^^ t^^e 
 
 I txitj eggs are again washed unA *i.^ 
 exposed to the air to dry. ' ^^ *^^" 
 
 i.l»oed on a bamboo shelf iriT»il ? ' f'' *'^'' """ 
 dumber conUining a s ri „f l' C' "'<'"!"--«™«'l 
 
 the wood of which em\t^ r,^ ^ '^"^7 made of bamboo, 
 
 their diminutive sii,e, those in dnr^ „f "'"« '" 
 
 leaves of the inulberrv t.»„ i^f ?* '*""" '^•" *'» 
 
 very .maU,pie:r^CrC:i ^1^^" 'f'-""° 
 
 of t,me their meals are reduced to birT . "™'' 
 hou.; and when they havettl'^edttrr uT^T 
 *ey get only .hree or foiu- in the d.v n ^ °*"'' 
 
 tl.at is, once or twice during the lirJmontrr"'"^- 
 are fed with mulberry leave! wellS w i~;b 7°™' 
 
132 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ing names. The first . sleep, which takes place on the 
 fourth or fifth day after birth, is termed the " hair sleep," 
 and lasts but one day. The second sleep takes place on 
 the eighth or ninth day, and the third on the fourteenth ; 
 the fourth ajid last sleep, which takes place on or about 
 the twt3nty-second day, is styled, in consequence of its long 
 duration, the " great sleep." On the near approach of 
 each period the worm loses its appetite. It erects the 
 upper part of its body, and sleeps in this position. 
 
 During each period of sleep it casts its skin, continuing 
 in a state of repose until the new skin is fully matured. 
 It relieves itself of the old skin by wrigglmg out at that 
 part of it which covers the head, and which is broken. 
 Sometimes the worm dies in consequence of its inability to 
 free the end of its body from the old skin. The skin 
 being shed, the worm grows very quickly in size and 
 strength. 
 
 Between the successive periods of rest, there are geaer- 
 ally intervals of three or four days, during which these 
 little creatures eat most voraciously. During the four or 
 five days which immediately follow the " great sleep," 
 they have a greater appetite foi* food than they have 
 hitherto manifested. When they have reached the age 
 of thirty-two days they are full grown, each being about 
 two inches in length, and almost as thick as a man's little 
 finger. 
 
 When the worms are gradually increasing in size they 
 are separated periodically, into several lots so as to give 
 them more room. Now that it is full grown, the worm, 
 which before was of a whitish hue, assumes a tint resem- 
 bling that of amber. At this period they cease to par- 
 
SILK-WORMS. 
 
 133 
 
 take of food and begin to spin from their mouths on the 
 frames or shelves on which they have been placed 
 In spinning they move the head first to one side and 
 
 Closed itseJf m the cocoon, it falls in. a ^tafp nf . 
 oasts .t, akin, and eventually beo^Js a d,^/ "'"^' ^ 
 
 wood,i„„rierthat he Z::^-,:' fire of charcoal or 
 ite heat, otherwise Z^^T^^^"^^ 
 break from the-'- BrisoHnJ! ' f" "'^''' "''"•«■ 
 
 *e laat perfected S'oftS: '" '"^ "^'^ ""- 
 
 Jo;eHt%''"''^''f •'"'™y<^' *•>« '-"-'-^ are 
 «movea irom the frames and placed in bastpt« mt 
 
 and girls, carefully selected for f 1.! + i ^''"'^" 
 
 clear, and gloss/ ' ^ "' P'-°d»'^"'g them bright. 
 
J; I 
 
 i! 
 
 II nil 
 
 ^'Si 
 
 > I I 
 
 I 
 
 1 i 
 
 134 
 
 HIGHER HEADER. 
 
 Industrious workers^ w o are masters of the business, 
 will finish one season, or silk harvest, in the course ot 
 eighteen or nineteen days. Ordinary or second-rato 
 workers will require twenty-four or twenty-five days to 
 get through the same amount of work. From long, 
 white, and shining cocoons a small and good thread o\ 
 silk is obtained ; from those which are large, dull in color, 
 and not firm of texture, a coarse thread is produced. 
 This coarse thread is used in making the stuffs with 
 which dresses are lined. The chrysalides are eaten ly 
 the workers as food of an excellent kind. 
 
 John Henri/ Gray. 
 
 Questions. — What is the first concern of those w^'O rear silk-worms? 
 How niay eggs does the female, lay at a time ? Describe the egg. 
 What is done with the eggs ? What do they do with them in the spring ? 
 Describe the worm at its birth. How are they fed ? Desciibe their 
 several sleeps. What happens during each rest or sleep ? What do 
 you mt an by the " great sleep " ? Are they ever separated and 
 when ? Can you describe their manner of spinning ? What is the action 
 of the attendants concerning the worm when it is about to become a 
 chrysalis ? Why put over a great heat ? What is done after the 
 chrysalides have been destroyed? Describe the parts of a cocoon. 
 How many different qualities of threads are obtained? How long 
 does the silk harvest last ? What becomes of the chrysalides ? What 
 becomes of the silk threads ? What countries are noted for the man- 
 ufacture of silk ? Does Canada manufacture silk ? 
 
 m 
 
 Require the pupil to write a descriptive letter about Silk- Wbrins. 
 Let the pupil point out some of the most impoiiant points in the 
 ksson. 
 
INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY UPON MUSIC. 
 
 loo 
 
 INFLDENCE OF CHRISTIANITY DPON MUSIC. 
 
 mcnt she appeared in the wo d thevT T, T. " '"°" 
 
 -.re w „ch ,t affo..,b, nor prefer the kind wl fch W t 
 "ther object than pleasure, hut that which cental Tn I 
 selt a resemblance to the beautiful. " "' 
 
 Music, in fact considered a« in «..t ■ ■ ■ 
 
 «t.tation that tends to purity the soul' t„^ .7^ '"' 
 institution is moreover of n v.i; ^^•'''*'^"^- ^^^ if thi« 
 
 n 
 
i 
 
 !i 
 
 1 1' 
 
 liMl 
 
 <! 
 
 
 I m 
 
 i iillfi 
 
 
 I i 
 
 i 
 
 lllllii! 
 
 136 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 It is Religion that causes the vestal to sigh amid the 
 night in her peaceful habitation ; it is Religion that sings 
 so sweetly beside the bed of affliction. To her Jeremia.s 
 owed his lamentations and David the sublime effusions of 
 his repentance. If, prouder under the ancient co/enant, 
 she depicted only the sorrows of monarcha and of pro- 
 phets, — more modest and not less loyal, under the new 
 law, her sighs are equally suited to the mighty and the 
 weak, lecause in Jesus Christ she has found humility 
 combined with greatness. 
 
 The Christian Religion, we may add, is essentially mel- 
 odious, for this single reason, that she delights in solitude. 
 Not that she has antipathy to society; there, on th con- 
 trary, she appears highly amiable ; but this celestial Phil- 
 omela prefers the desert; she is coy and retiring beneath 
 the roofs of men ; she loves the forest better, for theso 
 are the palaces of her father and her ancient abode. 
 Il'ere she raises her voice to the skies amid the concerts 
 of nature ; nature is incessantly celebrating the praise of 
 the Creator, and nothing can be more religious than the 
 hymns chanted in concert with the winds b} the oaks ol 
 the forest and the reeds of the desert. 
 
 Thus the musician who would follow Religion in all her 
 relations is obliged to learn the art of imitating the har- 
 monies of solitude. He ought to be acquainted with the 
 melancholy notes of the waters and the trees ; he ought to 
 study the sound of the winds in the cloister and thosi^ 
 murmurs that pervade the Gothic temple, the grass ot 
 the cemetery and the vaults of death. 
 
 Cnristianity has invented the organ and given sighs to 
 brass itself. To her music owed its preservation in the 
 
INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANIIV UPON MUSIC. 137 
 
 barbarous ages; wherever she has erected her throne 
 
 pmyeristhe compan f „' Re it' «[ "[^'^y^^"' 
 the savage only b/the^neanso 1'"^ • an^d tr ?'"'""' 
 who would not submit to he. aZi ' ^^ ^'''^"°'' 
 
 iJ««. ^«^«.fe, «,„„« of Ohnieanbriand. 
 
 of M»c ? U M„,ic rr^How dlThe'^^'?; "*' ','' ""'»-^ 
 Sion ? Is the Christian ReligionmLZ Wh r, ''"tj °' ^"- 
 to Christianity? Mention^v.™VT;k , ^'t J"" Music owe 
 thrir principal woriTsT "'°''" """P°»«=- What „« 
 
 Je^re ,U „U to ^ . ,„^^ ^ ,^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^ ^_ 
 
 GRAND-PBB. 
 
 In the Acadian land, on the shores of the R„<,i„ „f vr- 
 D.stant, secluded, still, the little vilhge of ^nd I^t'""' 
 Uy . afru-tful valley. Va.t .eadols strett^^,, 
 
 ""lit;"'''^ ''^ "^■"«' ""^ P-'"- »« «oeks without 
 
'^ M 
 
 1 ! I 
 
 illi i' 
 
 i 
 
 ill i 
 
 m 
 
 ,1 
 
 138 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ^Shutout the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the 
 flood-gates 
 
 Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the 
 meadows. 
 
 West and south those were fields of flax, and orchards 
 and corn-fields. ' 
 
 Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and away to 
 the northward. 
 
 Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the moun- 
 tains 
 
 Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mii/htv 
 Atlantic "- " 
 
 Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station 
 decended. 
 
 There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian vil- 
 lage, 
 
 Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and 
 chestnut. 
 
 Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of 
 the Henries. 
 
 Thatched were the roofs, with dormer windows; and 
 gables projecting. 
 
 Over the basement below pro 3cted and shaded the door- 
 way. 
 
 There in. the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly 
 
 Sunset lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes of 
 the chimneys, 
 
 Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles 
 Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the 
 
GRAND-PRK. 
 
 139 
 
 FlaxJ<.^ho griping ,00ms, whose „„i.y „,„«,es within 
 
 '"'Tirdr''''^''^^^'"'"'^"'^''-«'Pr'-,a,„<,tho 
 '"1: "'^"- "'''^ ^' ''- «- "and he extended to hiesa 
 
 Haili^J.i, alow approach with word, of affectionate wcl- 
 
 '"~:„tnr^-^'^°- '--•>« «eM;and.r» 
 Down to hfe rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the 
 
 'teX'^'""^^™"^^''^^^*""-'— .- 
 '°■ — ::f ^" "-*' '"^ "- - P- and 
 
 Thus^dwelt together .n love those simple Acadian larm- 
 Dweltmtheloveofaodandofman.Ali.ewerethe. 
 
 '':« 
 
140 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 But their dwellings were open as day and the heart.s of 
 
 the ownors. 
 There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in 
 
 abundance. 
 
 , Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 Questions.— Give the description of Orand-Pre. Can yon give any 
 idea of the work of the farmer ? What do you know of his results ? 
 What do you notice concerning his dwelling? What scene did 
 the summer evening present ? What do you notice concerning the 
 Parish Priest? What w^s done at the ringing of the Angelus? 
 What is the scene described? What have you to say of the life of 
 the Acadian farmers? From what poem is this extract taken? 
 What do you think of that' poem? In what metre is it written? 
 Can you scan the firstsix lines? What strikes you in this poem ? Who 
 were the Acadians ? What does Evangeline intend to convey ? Do 
 you recall the lines that speak of the exiling of the Acadians ? 
 
 Require the pupil to ivrite this e.rlract in prose, and adding thervto 
 whatever facts he may have learned Qonceming the Acadians. 
 
 THE SEA-UMITS. 
 
 1. Consider the sea's listless chime : 
 
 Time's self it is, made audible — 
 The murmur of the earth's own shell. 
 
 Secret continuance sublime 
 
 Is the sea's end : our sight may pass 
 No furlong further. Since time Wfis, 
 
 This sound hath told the lapse of time. 
 
 2. No quiet, which is Death's — it hath 
 
 The mournfuliiess of ancient life, 
 
the heart IS nt" 
 est lived in 
 
 oiigfeUow. 
 
 Q you give any 
 of his results? 
 hat scene did 
 concerning the 
 the Angelus? 
 y of the hfe of 
 sxtraf't taken? 
 is it written? 
 3 poem ? Who 
 convey ? Do 
 dians ? 
 
 adding thereto 
 '.adians. 
 
 THE SEA-LIMITS. 
 
 Enduring always at dull strife. 
 As the world's heart of rest and wrath, 
 
 Its painful pulwe is in the sands. 
 
 Last utterly, tlie whole sky stands, 
 Oray and not known, along its path. ' 
 
 >. Listen alone beside the sea, 
 
 Listen alone among the woods ; 
 Those voices of Twin solitudes 
 Shall have one sound alike to thee : 
 
 Hark where the murmurs of thronged men 
 Surge and sink back and surge again— 
 Still the one voice of wave and tree. 
 
 Gather a shell from the strewn beach 
 
 And listen at its lips : they sigh 
 
 The same desire and mystery, 
 The echo of the whole sea's speech. 
 
 And all mankind is thus at heart 
 
 Not anything but what thou art : 
 And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each. 
 
 Dante Gabriel Bossetti. 
 
 141 
 
 iiU 
 
 S 
 IS, 
 
 QuesUons.-What is the meaning of the title ? What are the two 
 leadmg ,deas of the first stanza ? What is secret continuance of the 
 sea? Explain "Since time was, this sound hath told the lapse of 
 time What are the principal ideas of the second stanza? Why 
 speak of Death ? Explain the conclusion of the same stanza ' What 
 does he mean by the twin solitudes? What meaning do you attach 
 to the last lines of the third stanza ? Why take up a shell ? What • 
 does It seem to say? What is that desire and mystery ? Is man 
 
 ^' "^^^•- =^^^ >^"> : ocan toe iasl stanza. 
 
 Bequire the pupU to write a composition on the poem. 
 
Mm 
 
 1 1^ 
 
 i. 
 
 
 ill! 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 «i! 
 
 ^ii 
 
 i • 1 
 
 Hi 
 
 142 ■ Hir.lIKK KKADKU. 
 
 CLEANLINESS. 
 
 clean'li-ness, n., freedom from dirt ; nrafarHtt of prrmi or drr^. 
 po-llt^'ness, n,poliHh or elegance of ,mnner ; yentUity ; good-breed- 
 
 tag. 
 cank'er^cl, v. i., to grow (irrupt; to grow runty. 
 pre§erv'a-tlv*^, ,., t/ytt whieh preserves, or has the power of pre- 
 serving. 
 
 in-e6n-sls-tent, rtd;., nof consistent; not suitable; not uniform; 
 contrary. 
 
 pp«v'a-len9^, «•- i^uperior strength, influence or efficacy ; predom- 
 inance. 
 «l'e-§ant, adj., polished ; refined; graceful; pleasing to good taste. 
 p\^^^ Vip^, n., approbation ; satisfaction. 
 ^i"cii^iXs,a(^., defective; imperfect; depraved; corrupt in principles 
 
 or conduct. 
 •^eXSij'bop-hood, n., a place near ; vicinity. 
 pu-rl-n-isa 'tions, n , a cleansing. 
 
 Cleanliness bears analogy to purity of mind, and may 
 be recommended under the three following heatis ; A 
 mark of politeness, it produces affection, it bears analogy 
 to purity of mind. First, it is a mark of politeness, for 
 It 18 universally agreed upon, that no one unadorned witli 
 this quality can go into company without giving a mani- 
 fest offence. The different nations of the world, are as 
 much distinguished by their cleanliness, as by their arts 
 and sciences. The more any country is civilized, the, 
 more they consult this part of politeness. 
 
 Secondly, cleanliness maybe said to be the foster-moth- 
 er of affection. Beauty, indeed, most commonly pro- 
 duces love, but cleanliness preserves it. Age, itself, is 
 not unamiable while it is preserved clean and unsullied : 
 like a piece of metal constantly kept smooth and bright, 
 
OLEANLINHas. 
 
 143 
 
 w,>look,m ,t w,tl, moro pl.^.u-e than on a now ve»,ol 
 
 ^(ean hno., ,..,„.lor, u» agreeablo ,o others, it makes Z 
 ™y tooun.olvo«; that it is an oxcollent pros.rvafivo o( 
 h.'«l h; a,„l that ,,ovon.l vieos dostrucive i,oth „.' i," 
 aii.l body, are inconsistont with tlio hal.it of it. 
 
 In tl.o third ,,!,«», it l,oa,.H a great analogy wi^h :.„ritv 
 
 ot m„.d, and naturally inspires refined «eJti„,cn, . '- 
 
 pa»s.ons. We find fr„n, experience that through the' 
 
 ..-.■valence of custom, the most vicious action, lase their 
 
 horror by ben.g made familiar to us. On the contra^ 
 
 tal Thri'"; '" ""' "'''8'>'""-''«''l of good examples, fly 
 l.om the first appearances of what is shocking Thus 
 
 pure an, unsu lied thought,, are naturally suggested to 
 tl.e mmd, by those objects that perpetually enctmp, J «s 
 when they are beautiful and elegant in their ku7 ' 
 
 In the East, where the warmth of the climate makes 
 Heanh„e,,» .mmed.atoly more necessary than in c<^der 
 
 uT i " ■; u't" "'■ ■■•'''«'°" ■■ "■" J''«i«h law and the 
 .Mohame. an (which in some things copies after it) isfil ed 
 w, h bathmgs, puriiications, and other rites of thl " 
 utme. We read several injunctions of this kind m the 
 IWk of Deuteronomy, which coniirm thi., truth- and 
 winch are but ill accounted for by saying a, some do 
 t at they were only instituted for convenience in the de, 
 
 :-!ny y"^™'^ '"'"' ""' ''''™ -" '^^^''^'"o ^orto 
 
 Jo8ej?h Addison. 
 ^Q«._«^^on..-Does cleanliness bear an analogy to nuritvnf n,;„, , 
 
 in "hZ' TT. ^"'"I ■^'^'* '' ^^^""''"««« ^ What is analogy ? "whlt 
 •HBaidofpohteness? What is sai.l of beauty ? HowdoSheWng 
 
 'h 1* . 
 
 LfcJ] 
 
 v^m 
 
 ■pffi 
 
 'm. 1 
 
 ^^H^H^' 
 
 i 
 
 ^^HH|J 
 
 jjM 
 
 ^HP'^- r 
 
 
 K'llji 
 
 
 ■41 
 
144 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 in the analogy existing l^etween beauty and cleanliness ? What is 
 the third reason he presents ? What is taught us from experience? 
 Explain. What do you mean by purifications? What was the 
 practice of the Jews and Mohamedans? Was is it a part of the 
 Jewish Law ? Why were they prescribed ? Are they conducive to 
 health? What important lessons are taught ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on Cleanliness, taking for 
 his subdivisums such points of the lesson as particularly impressed 
 him. Let him introduce some appropriate sentences from the text. 
 
 iti.... 
 
 OLOXJD BEAUTY. 
 
 va-eu' i-ty, «., emptinetis ; voitl. 
 
 en-dur-a-bl^, at^., that can be borne or suffered. 
 
 vi-9isV itudi^, n., change ; revoltUion ; regular change or nieces- 
 
 sion of one thing to another. 
 Sta-bll' i-ty, »., steadiness; stableneas ; fixedness. 
 in-tin-da' tion, n., an overflow of water or other fluid; a flood. 
 •eo-los' sal, ad;., very large; huge ; gigantic. 
 pyr' a-mlds, n., a solid body standing on a triangular, square, or 
 polygonal base, and terminating in a point at the top. 
 man-kind' , n., the rave or species of human beings. 
 
 We have seen tl-at when the earth had to be prepared 
 for the inhabitation of man, a veil, as it were, of interme- 
 diate being was spread between him and its darkness, in 
 which were joined, in a subdued measure, the stability 
 and insensibility of the earth and the passion and perish- 
 ing of mankind. 
 
 But the heavens, also, had to be prepared for his habi- 
 tation. Between their burning light, — their deep vacuity, 
 and man, a veil had to be spread of intermediate being ;— 
 which should appease the unendurable glory to the ievil 
 
CLOUD BEAUTY. 
 
 145 
 
 mge or nuceen- 
 
 of human feebleness, and sign the changeless motion of 
 the heavens with a semblance of human vicissitude. 
 
 Between earth and man arose the leaf. Between the 
 heaven and man came the cloud. His life being partly 
 as the falling leaf, and partly as the flying vapor. 
 
 Has the reader any distinct idea of what clouds are ? 
 We had some talk about them long ago, and ^.erhaps 
 thought them nature, though at that time not clear to us 
 would be easily enough understandable when we put our- 
 selves seriously to make it out. Shall we begin with one 
 or two easiest questions? 
 
 That mist which lies in the morning so softly in the 
 valley, level and white, through which the tops of the trees 
 rise as if through an inundation-why is it so heavy 9 
 aiid why does it lie so low, being yet so thin and frail 
 that It will melt away utterly into splendor of morning 
 where the sun has shone on it but a few moments more ^ 
 Ihose colossal pyramids, huge and firm, with outlines as 
 of rocks, and strength to bear the beating of the high sun 
 uU on their fiery flanks-why are they so light.-their 
 Uvses high over our heads, high over the heads of Alps ? 
 why will this melt away, not as the sun rises, but as he 
 <lescends, and leave the stars of twilight clear, while the 
 valley vapor gams again upon the earth like a shroud? 
 
 John Huskin. 
 
 did^S''S7^^'^^'*;"''™^^'*^^°^«^^«P-^^^ What qualities ' 
 d^d this being seem to possess? Why of earth and mankind^ 
 
 and cloud? Why ,8 man's hfe compared to the leaf and vapor ? 
 
146 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 How does he describe the cloud ? How are clouds formed ? What 
 IS the purpose of clouds ? How is the word cloud used figuratively " 
 Can you give any instances ? 
 
 Reqmre the pupil to develop this lesson in his own language. 
 Let him write a liter an/ analysis of it. 
 
 TEE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 ^or\-9%^\\a' , V. t , secreted ; hitlden ; disguifted. 
 
 ar-tif i-cer, %., a skillful workman in some traits. ' . , 
 
 spd' el,Ss, «., short ; kind r a class subotdinate to a genus. 
 
 91 r' €t^It, «., a circular space ; a judicial district. 
 
 Stib' tlUs^, a<(/.,^n«; thin; rare. 
 
 mu-§i' eian, »., one .skilled, in music. 
 
 t^' di'\S(tis-ness, n., weariness ; irksomenejis. 
 
 fr'^-CiuSnt' V. i, to visit often. 
 
 fr\lXV fU 1 , a^: , producing fruit : fertile ; prolific. 
 
 in' dust ry, «., constant diligence ; as»idu>'ii/. 
 
 The place which the wisdom or poHcy of antiquity had 
 destined for the residence of the Abyssinian princes was n, 
 spacious valley in the kingdom of Amhara, surrounded on 
 every side by mountains, of which the summits overhanu' 
 the middle part. The only passa - by which it could bo 
 entered was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which 
 it has been long disputed whether it was the work of Na- 
 ture or of human industry. 
 
 The outlet of the cavern was concealed by a thick wood, 
 and the mouth, which opened into the valley, was clo8e(i 
 with gates of iron forged by the artificers of ancient days, 
 so massy that no man could, without the help of engines' 
 open or shut them. • 
 
THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 147 
 
 formed a lake in Ihll^ddr Ti^"! '""^ '"''''''y- '""1 
 
 specie., and fre^uen J wVett^ t^'^ °' ^^'^ 
 taught to dip the wing i^ Ttlr ? "f" ?"""<' ^ 
 it« superfluities by a steam It •' I, '"^ discharged 
 
 »'■ the mountain o^ ti^e™ fdetdt .^ t'. "'f 
 
 T1,?K "f'' °/ **" "'"""tain^ were coverea with , 
 J lie banlia of the hrnnh^ ,„„ j- ™'"-'^™ with trees. 
 
 Every blast .hook s^'irL T /"'' ''°*«'^- 
 
 <i™ppad frui« npon'tre":n rtir^'^rr'^"''' 
 
 the gra«s or browse tb, f^ !. . ™""*'' *''*' >>'*« 
 
 wantdinthi^^eTen'vettH'a '".f-^ °^ *"-' 
 P-y h the mounuins w^^cSurdTl'"- '^"'^ " 
 
 iawns; tko.p7j;afm\tT f^ frisking in'the 
 w^eeolleeted^andi^trSt:^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ;ithr:!^s:itoTK^\7fr^,"--»^^^^^^^ 
 
 fl«ities were added at .),;!' , '^''S''*" "'l ^''Pe'-- 
 
 Paid his children wletr"""' '"" *'''^'' "'^ Emperor 
 
 -nd of music a^arrilgelXt ll "'^ "f™^'' '" *'«' 
 «i<irf in the vallev wnT ^ f ^ ^""^ °»« that re- ■ 
 '-«ht co„tribu:^t'.r rjI'T.^ '° P™P- whatever 
 
 vjwancies of attentionr^ud'Tes^r'th T!,'''' *° *" "? '^' 
 time. ' ^^^" the tediousnese of the 
 
m 
 
 U'if, 
 
 148 
 
 HIGHER KEAIjKH. 
 
 Every desire was immediately granted. All the artifi- 
 cers of pleasure were called to gladden the festivity; the 
 musicians exerted the power of harmony, and the dancers 
 showed their activity before the princes, in hope that 
 they should pass their lives ir this blissful captivity, to 
 whicli those oidy were admitted whose performance was 
 thought capable of adding novelty to luxury. 
 
 Such v<as the appearance of security and delight which 
 this retirement afforded, that they to whom it was new 
 always desired it might be perpetual; and as those on 
 whom the iron gate had once closed were never suffered 
 to return, the effect of long experience could not be known 
 Thus every year pro(\uced new scenes of delight and 
 new competitions for imprisonment. 
 
 Hasselas,^"^ C. I. Samuel Johnson. 
 
 Qiiestioyis. — What is the deHcriptioii of the happy valley ? Can you 
 give an idea of the stcnery? What animals were in the valley V 
 What have you to say of the products? Were the desires of the in 
 habitants satisfied ? What have you to remark of its security ? Give 
 in simpler language " forged by the artifi(!ers of ancient days, so massy 
 that no tnan could, without the help of engines, open or shut them. '' 
 What alliteration do you notice in the third paragraph ? What is 
 alliteration? How many kinds of alliteration are there? How 
 would you express the last sentence of the third paragraph in sinii)kr 
 language? 
 
 Reqiure the 2>ii'pil to write this lesson in his own simple lan(/uu<ji: 
 
THE FIRMAMENT. 249 
 
 THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 mutable and eternal? Typ;o 1 f n /'"' '"'" 
 'We is „o trace of time ^", tl „ I' f °' """'•- 
 The., is beauty without "ot ^^ wriS'" °' ^''"^'"• 
 youth. Like the soni tl, , i , wnnkk,— immortal 
 
 Like the soul it ^ 'o u 'b 1". "' "" "°' "^S"- •' 
 •he Boul varies i„ Ci* 1, Ti "*'"' "' ''«''*^ '"^^ 
 -aaons causes the vicis^ulr f ti^'lTT,'; "'' ''" 
 heat« and hoary frosts its lonJ ,'~'*^ ^'"'•""'g 
 desolation. « '""' «"-' "'te'-vnls of 
 
 But, by a sublime immunitv t),„ i 
 created, knows neither ch,r"e L d c '77' f '""«'' 
 time, waves of li.*t burst fmm I, ^^^ ^" ""^ *'y- 
 "' the night it/dark Mr, arlt°:";f """ ''"^ 
 -"- The mighty immoi„mv '" i ',1 """'"'^^"'^ 
 ;™;»Plu.l march beneath the iZm^^^'Z m'^ 
 
 "^;x.::;s:tiS:i}:-"''--^-"^ 
 
 -his beams the ionT'l' f" "'" '^^^P^ *•>« ««'<' 
 
 ^'h.» of their :: ™i':^dt:n::ri:' "^r *"« 
 
 vault of heaven, i-esnlendent Td .' "J *°''''' ^"^ 
 •-- like the helrt ofTe'r,: „ f ::t' • ™^^'^' ' 
 peual te.t,-the fea.st of the promiled r^ttir '""- 
 
i I 
 
 150 
 
 HIGHER KSADER. 
 
 The fount of light never fails, — the world could not 
 live else. Again and again the day dawns and the 
 shadows flee away, that we may be lured to the sweetnt-ss 
 of a hope in the future. Nothing is irrevocable, within 
 or without us. The cloud parts, the mist ris;:,, the v j.or 
 disappears ; and the trustful, hopeful, watchful observer 
 is comforted. Power is watching ■ver him iinder the 
 form of imperiB}j;u;lt' beaui} , 
 
 Sophia S. Swetchine. 
 
 Question. — To what is the firaiinii Dt coiu pared? And why? 
 What is the soul ? What is th*^ cousi qui-'nctj of ihe succession of sea- 
 i*ons ? Is heaven subject to change or decay ? What means im- 
 munity ? What do you say bf the heavens ? Describe the appear- 
 ance of the sky beneath the winter solstice . What is the meaning 
 ofsolstico? Is their a suiiiiner solstice? How is the fact of never- 
 failing ex[.r(>ssed ? 
 
 Require tht pupil to write a letter on the Firmament, telling its 
 wonders and glory. 
 
 Let the pupil define, celestial, immutable, wrinkle, vicissitudes, 
 immohility, triumjihal, impassibUiy, resplendent, irrevocable, imper- 
 ishable, and irresiitible. 
 
 THE BELLS.^ 
 
 1. Hear the sledges with the bells — 
 Silver bells ! 
 What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
 How they tinkle, tinkle, ^"i kle, 
 
 In the icy air of nigV 
 While the stars that oversprinkle 
 
 M 
 
F.' 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 All fhe heavens, seem to twinkle 
 " '''' a crystalline delight. 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 -f^ a sort of Runic rhyme 
 
 the t,ubnnahu,ation that so musfcal dwells 
 i^ron. the bells, bells, bells, bells 
 
 Bells, bells, bells— 
 -^ the Jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 
 
 151 
 
 Hea,r the mellow wedding bells, 
 ^r, trolden bells ! 
 
 ^nrougn tlie. balmy air of night 
 
 How they ring out their delight I 
 
 From the molten-golden notes. 
 And all in tune. 
 
 To. I, 7^f ^ %"id ditty floats 
 
 To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
 Un the moon ! 
 
 un, from out the sounding cells 
 
 What a gush of euphony volurlV wells. 
 How it swells ! 
 
 How it dwells 
 
 On the Future ! how it tells 
 
 Of the rapture that impells 
 
 10 the swmging and the ringing 
 
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
 Bells, bells, bells— 
 
 10 the rhyming and the chiming of the bells I 
 
 o. Hear the loud alar 
 Brazen bells 
 
 urn bells — 
 
152 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 iiii 
 
 iii 
 
 m 
 
 t» * 
 
 What a tale of terror, now, their turl)uleiicy tells ! 
 
 In the startleirl ear of night 
 
 How they scream out their affright ! 
 
 Too much horrified to speak. 
 
 They can only shriek, shriek. 
 
 Out of tune. 
 
 In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire. 
 
 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic firo 
 
 Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
 
 With a desperate desire. 
 
 And a resolute endeavor, 
 
 Now — now to sit or never. 
 By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
 
 Oh, the bells, bellH, bells! 
 
 What a tale their terror tells 
 
 Of Despair ! 
 
 4. How they clang, and clash, and roar ! 
 What a horror they outpour 
 On the bosom of the palpitating air. 
 Yet the year it fully knows, 
 By the twanging. 
 And the clanging. 
 How the danger ebbs and flows ; 
 Yet the ear distinctly tellB, 
 In the jangling. 
 And the wrangling. 
 How the danger sink's and swells, 
 By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells ; 
 
 Of the bells— 
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
 Bells, bells, bells, bells, 
 In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! 
 
THE BELL8. 
 
 5. Hear the tolling of the bells- 
 Iron bells ! 
 
 What a world of solenn. thought their mono.ly compels 
 In the silence of the night, ^ 
 
 How we shiver with afh-ight 
 At the melancholy menace of their tone I 
 ^or every sound that floats 
 From the rust within their throats 
 Is a groan. 
 
 And the people-ah, the peoplc- 
 They that dwell up in the steeple, 
 
 All alone, 
 And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 
 
 in that muffled monotone, 
 
 Feel a glory in so rolhng 
 
 _ On the human heart a stone— 
 
 rhey are neither man nor woman- 
 
 i hey are neither brute nor human— 
 
 They are Ghouls : 
 And their king it is who tolls : 
 And he rolls, rolls, rolls. 
 Rolls 
 A pajan from the bells I 
 And his merry l)osom swells 
 
 With the pfBan of the bells! 
 And he dances, and he yells ; 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 In a sort of Runic rhyme,' 
 
 To the pa3an of the l)elk— 
 Of the bells : 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 In a sort of Bunic rhyme,' 
 
 153 
 
154 
 
 HIQHBR REA^ 
 
 To the throbbing of ihe bells- 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 
 As he knells, knells, knells, 
 In a happy Runic rhyme, 
 
 To the rolling of the bells — 
 Of the bells, bells, bells— 
 To the foiling of the bells— 
 Of the bells, I tils, bells, bells- 
 Bells, bells, bells— 
 To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 
 
 Edgar Allen Foe. 
 
 Questions.~Wh&t is the ^ret bell that strikes the ear ? Where is 
 the scene of the tinkling of that bell laid ? Can you give the lines ? 
 Where are the golden bells ? What is diiid concerning those bells " 
 What is said of the brazen bells :' What scence is descrilied ? What 
 thoughts are awakened t Can you describe how their note is carried on 
 the palpitating air ? What say the iron bells ? What is their tone ? 
 Who rings those bells? What are Ghouls? How does their king 
 enjoy that ringing of those iron bells? What do ihey indicate? 
 What is the metre of this poem ? f ' ow would you scan it How is 1 1 
 to be read? What do you notice in the ^arniuny of word 
 
 Require the pupil to ivrite a composiL. u on the Bells, taking each 
 stanza as a point for development. 
 
 Let him wnte a literary analyst ofthej^oem. 
 
 I. t 
 
 THE LILY AND THE ROSi 
 
 "Within the ^-^rden s peaceful scene, 
 
 Appeared two lovely foes, 
 Aspiring to the rank of queen — 
 
 The Lily and the Rose. 
 
THE LILY AND TlIE ROSE. I55 
 
 The rose soou reddened into rage, 
 
 And, Hwelling with disdain 
 Appealed to many a poet's page, 
 
 To prove her right to reign. 
 
 The Lily's height bespoke command, 
 
 A fair imperial flower ; 
 hhe seemed designed for Flora's hand 
 
 The scepter of her power. ' 
 
 This civil bickering and debate 
 
 The goddess chanced to hear, 
 And flew to save, ere yet too late, 
 
 "^he pride of tl" parterre. 
 
 " ^^"^« <' she sai. " the nobler hue, 
 
 And V 01 rs the state! ' t mien ; 
 And till a third surp, ,.g yon, ' 
 
 Let each be deemed a qu. 
 
 Let no mean jealousies pervert your mind, 
 A blemish is another's fame to find • 
 Be gratelui for the gifts that you possess, 
 Nor deem a rival's merit makes you less. 
 
 William Cowper. 
 'uiemy/- who heard these bickerincs? Wh«t A\a tu j; 
 
 ^„tfi"f''«'*«»r*''»»'P»»''« on (fe Jt, , . .., TAU. 
 
 lit.- 
 
I 1 
 
 
 I'll! 
 
 11 
 
 'f 
 
 1 ' 1 
 
 If 
 
 i ' i ''''' 
 
 ! k " 
 
 1 ,1 j 
 
 i 1 
 
 
 156 
 
 HIGHER READKU. 
 
 ESCAPE PROM DOUBTING CASTLE. 
 
 Well, toward evening the giant goes down into tlu- 
 dungeon again to see if his prinonei-H Imd taken hiH comi- 
 Hel. But when lie came there ho found them alive ; and, 
 truly, alive wa.s all : for now, what for want of l>r(*ad aii.i 
 water, and hy reason of the wounds they received wh.'u 
 lie heat them, thoy could do little but breathe. 
 
 But, I say, he found them alive, at which he fell into a 
 grievous rage, and tohl them that, seeing that they h.i.l 
 diHob(«yed his counsel, i^ should bo wor,«*^ with them than 
 if they had never been born. At this they trembled 
 greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon. 
 But, coming a little to himself again, they renewed the!)- 
 discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they 
 had best tak<* it or no. 
 
 Now Christian again seemed to bo doing it, but Hope- 
 ful made his second reply as followeth : " My brother, 
 rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been hereto- 
 fore ? Apollyon*' could not crush thee ; nor could all tha^ 
 thou didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shado^^' 
 of Death. 
 
 " What hardships, terror, and amazement hast thou 
 already gone through I and art thou now nothing but 
 fear ? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee— 
 a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also this giant 
 has wounded me as well as thee, and has also cut off the 
 bread and water from my mouth ; and with thee I mourp 
 withoiit tlif-lii -^ 
 
 KIU. 
 
ESCAPK FEOM DuUBTINO CASTLK. 
 
 lo7 
 
 "But lot UH oxorciHo a littlo moro patience. Rom(^m- 
 l>er how tliou i,layea,st the man at Vanity Fair, and mm 
 n.'ith.^r afnii.l of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloo.ly 
 . .-ath. Wliorefon.. let us, at leant to avoid the shame 
 that becomes not a (.'hri.stian to be found in, bear nn with 
 patience as well a« we can." 
 
 Now, night being come again, and the giant and his 
 wile l)eing in l,e<l, .she asked him coticerning the prison- 
 ers, and if they had taken his counsel; to which he 
 ivplie<l: -They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to 
 iK'ar all hardships, than to make away with themselves." 
 
 Then said she : " Take them into the castle-yard to- 
 morrow, and show them the l,ones anrl skidls of those 
 that thou hast already .lispatched, and mako them believe 
 ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt also toar them in' 
 pieces 4is thou hast done their fellows before them." 
 
 So, when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
 again, and takes themi into the castle-vard, and shows 
 them as his wifo had bidden him. " These," said he 
 " were pilgrims as you are, once ; and they trespassed in 
 my grounds as you have done, and when I thought fit I 
 tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you 
 (to ! Get you down to your den again ! " And with that 
 he beat them all the way thither. 
 
 They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in lament. Vole 
 ease, aB before. Now, when night was come, and Mrs. 
 Diffidence and her husband the giant had gone to bed 
 they began to renew their discourse of the i)risoner8 • 
 and withal the old giant wondered tliat ]^e could neither 
 l.y his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. 
 
*i ai 
 
 li! 
 
 158 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 And with that his wife replied : " I fear that they live 
 m hopes that some one will come to relieve them, or that 
 they have picklocks about them, by the means of which 
 they hope to escape." 
 
 " And sayest thou so, my dear ? " said the giant. " I 
 will therefore search them in the mornino- " 
 
 Well, on Saturday night they began to pray, and con- 
 tmued in prayer till almost break of day. 
 
 Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as ono 
 half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech : " What 
 a fool, " quoth he, " am I, thus to lie in a stinking dun- 
 geon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key 
 in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, 
 open any lock in Doubting Castle." Then said Hopeful :' 
 " That is a good news, good brother ! Pluck it out of thj- 
 bosom, and try." 
 
 Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began t(] 
 try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, 
 gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christ- 
 ian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the 
 outward door that leads into the Castle-yard, and with 
 this key opened that door also. After, he went to the 
 iron gate, for that must be opened too ; but that lock 
 (vent very hard, yet the key did open it. 
 
 Then they thrust open the door to make their escape 
 with speed ; but that gate, as it opened, made such a 
 creaking that it waked Giant Despair; who hastily rising 
 to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits 
 took him again, so that he could by no means go after 
 them. Then they went on and came to the king'g higli- ■ 
 
TRUE HAPPINESS. ^59 
 
 Now, when they were gone over the stile, they besan 
 to contnve w,th themselve., what they shodd do atfhe 
 »t e to prevent those that should come'after from fe 1^ 
 ...to the hands of Giant Despair. So they conslted to 
 erect there a pillar, and to e,' grave nponlLrdellrf 
 tins sen-ence: "Over the stile is the way to Do" 
 C;..stle which is kept by Giant Despair, who det piTth hf 
 fang of the celestial country and seeks 'to dost y hfhl 
 pignms. Many, therefore, that followed after, read 
 what was written, and escaped the danger. 
 
 i'iigrim', Progvm.—John Bumjan.^ 
 
 Q««s(i>n«._What was the giant surprised low? wi, . 
 condition ? What objections had HopeM to Chrili "" 
 
 ;o obey ? What did he say of the haTdt p and S 'rV w 'T " 
 he gmnfs opinion of them? What was the wife's conn.^' a''"' 
 flie words of the giant as he showed the .t„n. i v , *'"'« 
 
 fcy do Sat,,rday night ■> WM was rVr ! "'■ ^" *<» 
 
 . Kile before day? Descrrthe a„ ion f 0^?'"'"™''''' °''"'»"' 
 .0 get out. After they l.-d clt^'I" ti er Xat' did"tr™">, 
 AVhat Avas that inscription? What do vmi „ ', 1 ^ *^''- 
 
 of this selection? ^""^ "°*''" ^" "'« J^ng'-^age 
 
 TRUE HAPPINESS. 
 
 1. My spirit is gay as the breaking of dawn, 
 
 As the breeze that sports over the sun-lighted lawn 
 As the song of yon lark from hi. ki^H-^-^ -■ - ' 
 
 Or the ha^>-string that rings inthe;;^;:Xght. 
 
 ] ' . ' r' 
 
 ■| 
 
 I; ■ 
 
nil 
 
 160 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 2. 
 
 KH.i 
 
 For the world and its vapors, though darkly they fold, 
 I have light that can turn them to purple and gold, ' 
 Till they brighten the landscape they came to deface, 
 And difformity changes to beauty and grace. 
 
 Yet say not to selfish delights I must turn, 
 From the grief-laden bosoms around me tbxt mourn : 
 For 'tis pleasure to share in each sorrow I see, 
 And sweet sympathy's tear is enjoyment to me. 
 Oh ! blest is the heart, when misfortunes assail, 
 That is arm'd in content as a garment of mail, ' 
 For the grief of another that treasures its zea/, 
 And remembers no^woe but the woe it can heal. 
 
 ■vTT-i, 1 . , [young bloom, 
 
 . When the storm gathers dark o'er the summer's 
 
 And each ray of the noontide is sheathed in gloom, 
 
 I would be the rainbow high arching in air, 
 
 Like a gloaming of ho[)e on the brow of despair. 
 
 When the burst of its fury is spent on the bower, 
 
 An<I the buds are yet bow'd with the weight of the show'i , 
 
 I would he the l)eam that comes warming and briuht,' 
 
 And that bid them burst open to fragrance and light' 
 
 I would be the smile that comes breaking serene, 
 O'er the features where lately affliction lus been' 
 Or the heart-speaking scroll after years of alloy,' 
 That brings home to the desolate tidings of joy ;' 
 Or the life-giving ros.? odor borne by the breeze 
 To the sense rising keen from the couch of disease, 
 Or the whisj)er of charity tender and kind, 
 ?4tt..>ii5 VI iwije un tiiu penitent a mmd. 
 
OUR VIRGIN MOTHER. 
 
 161 
 
 kly they fold, 
 e and gold, 
 ne to deface, 
 ace. 
 
 n, 
 
 iiat mourn 
 r see, 
 to me. 
 assail, 
 mail, 
 zeal, 
 1 heal. 
 
 )ung bloom, 
 imer's 
 in gloom, 
 r. 
 
 ir. 
 bower, 
 'theshow'i, 
 and bright, 
 i and light. 
 
 erene, 
 been, 
 rlloy, 
 
 joy ; 
 
 'eeze 
 disease, 
 
 5. Then breathe, ye sweet roses, your fragrance around 
 And waken, ye wild birds, the grove with your soun.l,- 
 When the soul is unstain'd and the heart is at ease, 
 i here 8 a rapture in pleasures so simple as these 
 1 rejoice in each sunbeam that gladdens the vale 
 1 rejoice m each o.lor that sweetens the gale 
 In the bloom of the Spring, in the Summer's gay voice 
 With a spirit so gay, I rejoice ! I rejoice ! ' 
 
 Gerald Grijfln. 
 Questiom.—Wh'j^i does he say of his soirif ? Of f J,. , j , • 
 
 ».ile? Explain .he la„ part of th! Trthli "7 .^ 
 l"lve«.. «ca„t,.eth,rd,..„.a. What le J. at ^..-J"" "' 
 
 Let the pupU write a literary analjms of the poem. 
 
 OUR VIRGIN MOTHER. 
 
 Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son, 
 Created beings all in lowliness 
 Surpassing, as in height above them all • 
 lerm by th' eternal council pre-ordain'd 
 i^^nnobler of thy nature, so advanced ' 
 In thee, that its crvMi Moi^^- -i-i ^ 
 Jiimselt ill his own work enclosed to dwell 
 
I 
 
 ii 
 
 162 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 For in thy womb rekindling shone the love 
 Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now, 
 This flower to germ in eternal peace : 
 Hence thou to us of charity and love 
 Art as the noon-day torch, and art beneath 
 To mortal men of hope a living spring. 
 So mighty art thou, lady, and so great. 
 That he who grace desireth, and comes not 
 To thee for aidance, fain would have desire 
 Fly without wings ; nor only him who ask 
 Thy bounty, succours, but doth freely oft 
 Forerun the asking; whatsoe'er may be 
 Of excellence in creatures — pity mild, 
 Relenting mercy, large munificence. 
 Are all combined in thee. 
 
 Dante. 
 
 Questwm^~Ko^ does he speak of Mary's great purity and per- 
 lection? ^hat does he say she is to us? What says he of her 
 power? Her bounty and goodness ? What are the virtues he finds 
 m her ? Who is our Mother ? What do you know of her preroga- 
 tives / Why should we prove ouraelves her true children ? 
 
 Require the pupil tx> write a cmnposUion on Our Virgin Mother 
 explaining her power, greatness, and her love toward m. 
 
 Let the pupU analyze the poem. 
 
 • «•> — 
 
 LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT. 
 
 Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom 
 
 Lead thou me on! 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home; 
 
 Lead thou me on ! 
 Keep thou my feet : I do not ank +ۥ -'^ 
 
 The distant scene; one step enough for me. 
 
THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 163 
 
 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou 
 Should , St lead me on • 
 
 I loved to choose and see my path; but now 
 -Liead thou me on ' 
 
 I lovod the garish d<.y, a„,l ,,„te „f fear,, 
 
 rrida rulerl my will, 
 Pu^ember not past years. 
 
 So long thy power hath blest me sure it 
 Still will lead me on ' 
 
 O'er moor and fen, o'er erag and torrent till 
 J-ne night is gone 
 
 And with the morn ti,a,e angel face,, smile 
 Which I have loved long .,i„ee, and last awhile! 
 
 Cardinal Mioman 
 
 lead hi.n? Did the night'pas ' Whl i. IL " "'^ M "^'^* 
 two lines? ^ ^^'^'^'^ '« the meaning of the last 
 
 Require the pupil to analyze this poen, and to ,ne.,..>rUe it. 
 
 THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS ANI^ QABmjH. 
 
 Yontv^^'" r ^T ^™^''^ "^^' ^^^h ^r'i>eccr in this- 
 ^^ ou have condemnVi and noted Lucius P^lla 
 
 J^ or takmg bribes here of the Sardians ■ 
 
 I ^'^'^'«"i my letter, praying on his sidJ 
 
 i^<^''au8e I knew no man, was slighted of 
 
I i 
 
 
 164 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Bru. You wroDg'd yourself to write in such a case. 
 Gas. In such as ihis, it is not meet 
 That every nice offence should bear its comment. 
 
 Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ; 
 To sell and mart your offices for gold 
 To undeservers. 
 
 Cos. I, an itching palm ! 
 You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
 Or, by the gods ! this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
 And chastisement doth therefore hide its head. 
 Cos. Chastisement! 
 
 Bru. Kemember March, the ides of March remember ! 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? 
 What ! shall one of us, 
 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world 
 But for supporting robbers — shall we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes. 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus? 
 I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
 Than such a Roman 
 
 Cos. Brutus, bay not me : 
 I'll not endure it. You forget yourself, 
 To hedge me in ; I am a soldier 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 
 Bru. Go to ! you are not, Cassius. 
 Cas. I am. 
 
 Bru. I say you are not, 
 Cas. Urge me no more; I shall forget myself: 
 Have mind upon your health; tempt me no farther. 
 
1 a case. 
 
 THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 
 
 165 
 
 Bru. Away, slight man f 
 
 Oaa. Is't possible? 
 
 £ru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 
 Shall I be frighted when a mad man stare. 9 
 Cos. Must I endure all this 9 
 
 ^™- ZeT "'• """■" ''"' '"^^ yo- P-"' 1-rt 
 6o _3how your slaves how choleric you are 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must i l„,d„e9 
 Ifat I observe you? Must I stand and cronoh 
 Under your testy humor? By the gods! 
 You shal d,gest the venom of your fpleen, 
 T ough .t do spht you ; for from this day forth 
 n use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter 
 Wlien you are waspish. ' 
 
 Ci». Is it come to this ? 
 
 Bru. You say you are a better soldier ; 
 Let It appear so ; make your vaunting true 
 
 wd I say better? 
 
 Sm. If you did, I care not. 
 
 «». When C.sar lived, he durst not thus have moved 
 
 eri'^ri^nr?!^™ ''™' -'-»- >.mpted him. 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What f ^„,^^.i -.J. , . , . 
 
 „rf,t , a-r.v, ao nut tempi him 9 
 
 Bru, For your life you durst not. ' 
 
 , 11 
 
1G6 
 
 HIGHEB READER. 
 
 Caz. Do not presume too much upon my love, 
 I may do that I shall be sorry for. 
 
 Htu. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 There is no terror, Cassius in your threats ; 
 For I am arm'd so strong in honesty. 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind 
 Which I respect not. . I did send to you. 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; 
 For I can raise no money by vile means. 
 By heavens ! I had rather coin my heart. 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash. 
 By any indirection. Ldid send 
 To you for gold to pay my legions, 
 Which you denied me ! Wjis that done like Cassius ? 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends. 
 Be ready, gods ! with all your thunderbolts 
 Dash him in pieces. 
 
 Cos. I denied you not. 
 : Bru. You did. 
 
 Cos. I did not : he was a fool 
 That ^;rought my answer back. Brutus hath rived m) 
 
 heart ; 
 A friend should bear a friend's infirmities ; 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
 
 Bru. I do not. Still you practise* them on me. . 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru. I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cos. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer s would not, though they did appear 
 As huge as high Olympus. 
 
THE qUARRKL OF JUtUTU.S AND CASSIUS. 
 
 167 
 
 ea.. CW Anthony ! .,,1 young Octaviu., como • 
 Kcvonge yourself alone on Cfussius, 
 For Cci.SHiu8 is a-weary of the world— 
 Ilatecl by one he loves; braved by his brother • 
 
 heck dhke a bondman; all his Llts observed 
 M in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, ' 
 ro cast into my teeth. Oh, I oould weep 
 My spirit from mine eyes !-There is my dagger 
 And here my naked breast-within, a heart 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold • 
 h that thou need'st a Eoman's, take it forth I 
 I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. 
 S nke as thou didst at Caesar, for I know 
 When thou didst hate him worst, thou loJedst him better 
 Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 
 
 £ru. Sheathe your dagger, 
 Be angry when you will, it shall have scope: 
 Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor 
 
 Cassius, you are yoked with a man 
 
 1 hat carries anger as the flint bears fire 
 Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Cos. Hath Cassius lived 
 To be but mirth and laughter .0 his Brutus, 
 ft lien grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him ? 
 
 Sru. When I spoke that, I waa ill-temper'd too. 
 
 (MS. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand 
 
 5™ And my heart too. (S^nbranru,.) 
 
 Cos. Brutus I . ' 
 
 Bru. What's the m,attor ? 
 
 When that rash humor which my mother gave me 
 -Makes me forgetful ? 
 
 
 .1 
 
 - 'J , ■ 
 
 lis 
 
I 1 
 
 168 
 
 HKIHER READER. 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius : and, from henceforth, 
 Wlioii you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 Julius Caesar :— William Shakespeare. 
 
 INFLUENCE OP THE GULF STREAM ON 
 
 CLIMATE. 
 
 af-f In'i-ty, »., a kind of relationship. 
 
 re-luc'tan9^, «•. « dislike; unmllingness. 
 
 lit'to-rfil, adj., on the sea-shore. 
 
 «al'dron, n.. a large boiler or kftt'-ii. 
 
 ob-§erv'a-to-ry, »., a place r^ « .?» vhich a view may he comimndvd. 
 
 nar^^, v., to hum with an vml^'^<^p f^>,^e; to open or spread outward. 
 
 Fahr'en-h^Tt, adj.. so called ft or^ he inventor of the scales of the 
 
 thermometer used in America. 
 fSnd, v., to keep off. 
 
 There is a river in the ocean; in the severest droughts 
 it never fails, and in the mightiest floods it never over- 
 flows ; its banks and its bottom are of cold water, while its 
 current is of warm; the Gulf of Mexico is its' fountain, 
 and its mouth is in the Arctic Seas. It is the Gulf Stream! 
 There is in the world no other such majestic flow of waters. 
 Its current is more rapid than the Mississippi or the Ama- 
 zon, and its volume more than a thousand times greater. 
 Its waters, as far out from the Gulf as the Carolina coasts, 
 are of an indigo blue. They are so distinctly marked that 
 their hne of junction with the common sea-water may be 
 traced by the eye. Often one-half of the vessel may be 
 perceived floating in Gulf Stream water, while the other 
 
WLUJ^NCi. OF THE OV., STREAM 0» rLIMATK. 109 
 
 the sea. "o'< with the Jittoiul watcirs of 
 
 water. The furn J t^\, '/r "'^ '"'■™" "' ''°' 
 
 .u )-.t:„t;t Jot So:",.t' tt t '° ^-^ 
 
 the basement ia taken thence by the dr and diTtV." 
 over all the rooms. ^ ^ ^^tributed 
 
 waS^r Tsr ':i\f t' z^^ ^^^ 
 
 -.-; the Mexican r:,,^rr-J4^-'!T " '\*°™'* 
 
 drons; the Gulf Stream -T "''"*'•"' ^^'^ »■■« the cal- 
 
 uuit btream m the conductmg pipe. From the 
 
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 ■^= '- Rochester. NY 14609 USA 
 .^^^ Phone: 716/482-0300 
 .S^F.^S Fax: 716/268-5969 
 
 C 1993. Applied Image, Inc.. All Rights Reserved 
 
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 i# 
 
Iffl".!'' 
 
 I' _. 
 
 170 
 
 HKSHKK KKAUKR. 
 
 OraiKl BaiikH of NowfouiKllaiid to tho nhoms of EuroiK, is 
 tho Lavement— tlu^ liot-aii- chamber— thuH presenting a 
 ha-ge cooling mirtaco. Here the circulation of the atmo- 
 sphere is arranged hy Nature ; it in from went to cwt ; con- 
 Hequently it is such that the warmth thus conveyed into 
 this warm-air chamber of mid-ocean is tjikeji up by the 
 genial west winds, and dispensed, in the most benign 
 manner, throughout Great Britain and the west of Europe. 
 
 The maximum temperature of the Gulf Stream is eighty- 
 six degrees, or about nine degrees above the ocean temper- 
 ature due to latitude. Incrwusing its latitude ten degrees, 
 It loses but two degret« of temperature; and after having 
 run three thousand miles toward the north, it still pre'^ 
 serves, even in winter, the heat of summer. With this 
 temperature, it cn^sses tlu^ fortieth degree of north latitude 
 and there, overflowing its licpiid banks, it spreads itself on, 
 tor thousands of scpiare leagues over the cold waters 
 around, covering the ocean with a mantle of warmth thai 
 serves so much to mitigat«i in P]urope the rigors of winter 
 Moving now more slowly, but dispensing it« genial influence 
 more freely, it finally meets the British Islands. By these 
 It is divided, one pai-t going into the polar basin of the 
 Spitsbergen, tlu^ other entering the. Bay of Biscay, bul 
 each with a warmth c^onsiderably above the ocean temper 
 ature. Such an immense volume of heated water cannot 
 tail to carry with it beyond the sea.s a mild and moist 
 atmosphere. And this it is that so much softens the 
 climate there. 
 
 Every west wind that blows, croases the stream on its 
 way to Euroj)e, and carries with it a portion of this heat 
 to temper tliere th(^ northern wind.s of winter. It is the 
 
INFLUENCE OF THE OUI.K STKKAM ON CUMATE. 171 
 
 'tT'";;?!"" f?"'" "'™ '■''■»'« *"' ""'kee Erin the 
 E„.en.ld fele of tho S,.«," „„d that cloth,« the »CJ.( 
 
 - Ih,o„ ,n evergra.,, mk. ,- while i„ the ™,o lat tX ^ 
 
 '"1831, the harbor of8t. John's, Newfoundland wa, 
 jlos« wuh ,ee ,« late a, the month of June ; "'ever 
 
 ;». .he., north, hen.g ,.Wd with ice, even'in the S 
 
 As the waters in the Gulf of Mexico become heatec' .nd 
 ar<. borne off by the Gnlf Stream, they are rZ^ t^ 
 cooler currents thron,-h the Caribbean Sea; he s^riaef 
 va er, as ,t ..nters here, l,eing three or four dele ^ " 
 >l«t „, depth oven forty degrees cooler thaTwi;.;"* 
 o«.,«, ...m the Gulf. At the very bottom of tie G„ 
 &.rc^m, when .tssuriWe temperature was eighty dl!e 
 
 deep-sea thermometer of the Coa,st Survev h,« ZZ' 
 « a te„,,»rature as low as thirty-five ,Iegr«., FaLrXit" 
 These cold waters ,loubtless ..n,; down tonltuf^^l 
 replace the warm wat.,r sent throu.d, the Gnlf c,, ' . 
 ..i.«lerate the cold of Spitsbergen. ^'''™ '" 
 
 As a rule, the hottest water of the Gulf Stream is at or 
 ■ar he sur.aee; and, as the deep-sea thermom t^- i 
 «ent down, ,t .shows that these watoi^s, though "if r 
 warmer than the water on either side mZ J 
 
 ;%..hs, gr,^„allv become less td S tZZ^fZ 
 
 li«e that the warm waters of tho Grdf Stream are nl 
 
 on of the sea. There is everywhere a eu.,hio„ of eoll 
 ->•*■. between then. au,l the solid parts of the earth's 
 
i 1- 
 
 I t 
 
 172 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 crust. This arrangement is suggestive and strikingly 
 beautiful. Cold water is one of the best non-conductors 
 of heat; and if the warm water of the Gulf Stream was 
 sent across the Atlantic in contact with the solid crust of 
 the earth— comparatively a good conductor of heat— in- 
 stead of being sent across, a« it is, in contact with a cold, 
 non-conducting cushion of cool water to fend it from tho 
 bottom, much of its heat would be lost in the first part of 
 the way, and the soft climates of both France and Eng- 
 land would be, as is that of Labrador, severe in the ex- 
 treme, ice-bound, and bitterly cold. 
 
 Who, therefore, can calculate the benign influence of 
 this wonderful current upon climate ? In the pursuit ol 
 this subject, the mind is led from nature up to the great 
 Architect of nature, and what mind will the study of this 
 subject not fill with profitable emotions? Unchanged 
 and unchanging alone of all created things, the ocean is 
 the great emblem of its everlasting Creator. He 
 " walketh upon the waves of the sea, " and is seen in tlit; 
 wonders of the deep. Yea, " He calleth for its waters, 
 and poureth them out upon the face of the earth. " In 
 obedience to this call, the aqueous portion of our planet 
 preserves its beautiful system of circulation. By it heat, 
 and warmth are dispensed to the extra-tropical regions ; 
 clouds and rain are sent to refresh the dry land ; and bv 
 it cooling streams are brought from Polar Sea« to temper 
 the heat of the torrid zone. 
 
 Lieut, M. F. Maury. 
 
 Qucs^wns.— Describe the Gulf Stream . What have yt i to say of 
 its current and waters? Can you describe how the Washington 
 Observatory is heated ? How does the Gulf Stream act ? Can you 
 
md strikingly 
 lon-conductors 
 if Stream was 
 solid crust of 
 ' of heat — in- 
 t with a colli, 
 id it from the 
 le first part of 
 ice and Eng- 
 re in the ex- 
 
 n influence of 
 the pursuit of 
 ) to the great 
 
 study of this 
 Unchanged 
 
 the ocean i ? 
 'reator. He 
 is seen in th(; 
 3r its wateffi, 
 
 earth. " In 
 'f our planet 
 By it heat. 
 ical regions; 
 md : and bv 
 las to temper 
 
 P. Maui'y. 
 
 e yi \ to say of 
 le Washington 
 ict? Can you 
 
 POPE OREGORY XVI., AND NICHOLAS I., OP RU.SSIA. 173 
 
 t:^"^;::^^ what e.eot has the 
 
 and Albion? How is the waS J. ^ ,1^''' ^"" *^ "^^ ^^ E"" 
 have you to remark aboutT^ «">f Stream replaced ? What 
 
 you know orcoWwaf r ^'7^'""*^ '^ "'^ ^^''^''' ^ ^hat do 
 water ofThe GuVf s7. ^ '""''"'*"'' "^ ''^'^^ ^ ^^««"be how the 
 
 lltL dts o? h^^^^^^ '^ ''"' """ ^'^^ ^"*"*'«- What are the 
 
 and Amazon Riv.r *i !• ""'^^ *''^ "^"'''^^ "^ t^e Mississippi 
 hanks oTthrMtTssTppifm"^ T.^' "'^ ^""^'P^' ^'^'^ - *'« 
 
 .:.'er in thl .orir''HL^o'e:\t%t^^^^^^^ ""''^^^ ^'^^ ^^^«-t 
 Cun vou menfmn ♦>,. .. ooes the ht. Lawrence compare with it? 
 
 you mention the principal cities on the banksofthe St. Lawrence? 
 
 ^egrnre Che pupil to v^rii, a descriptive letter on the Guif Stream 
 
 Let him analyze the seleclim. 
 
 POPE GREGORY XVI.,« AND NICHOLAS !.,« 
 
 OP RUSSIA. 
 
 The subjoct anc^ particulars of the conference were never 
 revealed by its only witness at Rome. The Pope's own 
 account was brief, simple, and full of conscious power • 
 I said to him all that the Holy Ghost dictated." And 
 that he had not spoken vainly, with words that had beaten 
 he air, but that their strokes had been well-placed and 
 driven home, there was evidence otherwise recorded. 
 An English gentleman was in some part of the palax^e 
 hrough which the Imperial visitor passed ^ he returned 
 irom his interview, and described his altered appearance. 
 He had entered with his usual firm and royal aspect 
 f^'rand as it wa« from statue-like features. «tatelv frame' 
 'uid martial bearing; free and at his ease', with gracious 
 
174 
 
 HIGHER KKADEK. 
 
 looks and condescending goaturos of wilutation. So he 
 passed through tlie long suiteof anti-rooms, the Imperial 
 eagle, glossy, fiery, " with j)lume8 unruflled, and with eye 
 unquenched," in all the glory of pinions which no flight 
 had ever wearied, of beak and talon which no prey had 
 yet resisted. 
 
 He came forth again, with head uncovered, and hair, it 
 it -m be said of man, dishevelled ; haggard and pale, lock- 
 ing as though in an hour he had passed through the con- 
 densation of a protracted fever; taking long strides, with 
 stooping shoulders, unobservant, .unsaluting ; he waited 
 not for his carriage to come to the foot of the stairs, but 
 rushed out into the outer court, and hurried away from 
 apparently the scene of discomfiture. It was the eagk^ 
 dragj^ed from his eyrie among the clefts of the rocks, 
 " from his nest among the stars, " his feathers rumpled,' 
 and his eye quelled, by a power till then despised. 
 
 But let us be fully just. The interview did not excito 
 rancorous or revengeful feelings. No doubt the Pontiif's 
 words were in the spirit of those on the High Priest's 
 breast-plate—" Doctrine and Truth,"— sound in principle 
 and true in foct. They convinced and persuaded. Facts 
 with their proofs had, no doubt, been carefully prepared, 
 and could not be gainsaid. The strong emotion which 
 Gregory on other occasions easily betrayed, could not 
 have been restrained here. 
 
 Often, in prayer, ha« every beholder seen the tears 
 running down his glowing countenance ; often those who 
 have approached him with a tale of distress, or stood by 
 when news of a crime has been communicated to hini. 
 ha.ve seen his featurcB quiver, and his eyes dim with the 
 
POPE QREOORY XVI., AND NICHOLAS I., OP RUSSIA. 175 
 
 double sorrow of the Aj)o.stlo, the tear of weakneHs with 
 the weak, the Hoalding drop of indignation for Hin. This 
 sonsibihty can not have been stemmed, even by the cold- 
 mm of an interpreted discourse but must have accom- 
 panied that flow of eloquent words to which, when earn- 
 est, Gregory gave utterance. 
 
 All this must have told effectually, where there could 
 be nothing to reply. Mistaken zeal, early prejudice, and 
 an extravagance of national feelings had, no doubt, influ- ' 
 enced the conduct of the Czar towards his Catholic sub- 
 jects, against the better impulses of his own nature, which 
 Russians always considered just, generous, and even pa- 
 rental. No one had before possessed the opportunity or 
 the courage, to appeal to the inward tribunal of his bet- 
 ter sense. When well made such a call could hardly 
 fail. . . From that interview the Catholics of Russia may 
 (late a milder treatment, and perhaps a juster rule. 
 Recollections of the Last Four Popes :— 
 
 Cardinal Wiseman. 
 
 Qu^stwm-mmt is the subject of this selection ? Who was Pope 
 (jrogory XVI ? Who was Nicholas I ? What does the Pope say of 
 tins interview? Can you give the description of the Emperor's ap- 
 pearance ere he entered the conference hall? Can you describe his 
 appearance after the interview ? Did this interview leave any better 
 ioehng? What ha« been remarked of the Pontiffs manner? Wha. 
 was the result of this interview ? Where is Russia ? What kind of 
 Sovornment ha« it ? What is its Emperor called ? What war occurred 
 n the reign of Nicholas ? What do you know of the Crimean war? 
 -an you give any idea of the siege of Sebastopol? What do vou 
 know of the author ? ^ 
 
 Require thepiipU to write this lesson in his oton language. 
 
 ,; ■- .^ ^ _/.t.„^..t.. .j^ „,„ cvicCuvtt, lici mm select 
 
 tit least ten diffiaiU words to define. 
 
176 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 SIAN MADE TO MOURN. 
 
 1. When chill November's surely blast 
 
 Made fields and forest bare, 
 One evening, as I wandered forth 
 
 Along the Banks of the Ayr, 
 I spy'd a man, whose aged step 
 
 Seem'd weary, worn with care; 
 His face was furrow'd o'er with years, 
 
 And hoary was his hair. 
 
 2. " Young stranger, whither wand 'rest thou? " 
 
 Began the rev'rend Sage; 
 " Does thirst of wealth thy steps constrain, 
 
 Or youthful pleasure's rage ? 
 Or haply, prest with cares and woes, 
 
 Too soon hast thou began 
 To wander forth, with me, to mourn 
 
 The miseries of Man. 
 
 3. " The sun that overhangs yon moors. 
 
 Out-spreading far and wide 
 Where hundreds labor to support 
 
 A haughty lordling's pride ; 
 I've seen yon weary winter sun 
 
 Twice forty times return ; 
 And every time has added proofs, 
 
 That Man was made to mourn.^ 
 
 4. " O man ! while in thy early years, 
 
 How prodigal of time ! 
 
MAN MADE TO MOURN. 
 
 xMisspending all thy precious hours, 
 Thy glorious youthful prime ! 
 
 Alternate follies take the sway; 
 Licentious passions burn ; 
 
 Which ten-fold force gives Nature's law, 
 That man waa made to mourn. 
 
 5. " Look not alone on youthful prime, 
 
 Or manhood's active might; 
 Man, then, is useful to his kind,' 
 
 Supported is his right ; 
 But see him on the hedge of life, 
 
 With cares and sorrows worn 
 Then age and want. Oh I ill-match'd pair ! 
 
 Show Man was made to mourn. 
 
 6. " A few seem favorites of fate, 
 
 In pleasure'H lap carest ; 
 Yet, think not all" the rich and great 
 
 Are likewise truly blest. 
 But Oh I what crowds in ev'ry land, 
 
 Are wretched and forlorn ; 
 Thro' weary life this lesson lein, 
 
 That Man was made to mourn. 
 
 7. " Many and sharp the num'rous ills 
 Inwoven with our frame ! 
 More pointed still we make ourselves, ' 
 
 Regret, remorse, and shame ! 
 And man, whose heav'n-erected face 
 
 The smiles of love adorn. 
 Man's inhumanity to man 
 
 Makes countless thousands mourn ! 
 
 177 
 
178 
 
 HIGHER READEU. 
 
 II 
 
 8. " See yonder i)Oor, o'crlabond wight, 
 
 So abject, mean, aii<l vile, 
 Who begH a brother of the earth 
 
 To give him leave to toil ! 
 And see hi.s lordly fellow-worm 
 
 The fKKU* jji'tition spurn, 
 Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 
 
 And holples8 offspring mourn. 
 
 |!'l 
 ■^'1, 
 
 ill. M 
 
 9. " If I'm deHignM yon lordling'n slave, 
 
 By natiire's law design 'd ; 
 Why waw an iudep(Mident wish 
 
 E'er planted in my mind ? 
 If not, why am I subject to 
 
 His cruelty, or scorn ? 
 Or why has man the will and pow'r 
 
 To make his fellow mourn ? 
 
 10. " Yet, let not this too much, my son, 
 
 Disturb thy youthful breast ; 
 This partial view of human kind 
 
 Is surely not the last f 
 The poor oppressed, honest man, 
 
 Had never, sure been born, 
 Had there not been some recompense 
 
 To comfort those that mourn ! 
 
 11. " O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend 
 
 The kindest and the best ! 
 
 Welcome the hour my aged limbs 
 
 Are laid with thee at rest ! 
 
VANITY OP VANITIES. j^^g 
 
 Tho great, the wealthy, four thy Wow 
 
 But Oh !-H blest rehef to those 
 Ihat weary-laden, mourn!" 
 
 Hobert Burns. 
 
 »un? What is hi, age 7 Wh^ „, J """"''*'' 1'° "P^k of th. ' 
 'ho„ghto? What doi he Ilrf h" "':'"' "^"^ '" "■• 
 youth? Why not l<«k alo" rv^,L?""''"""""'"'P'°-'"«"'y 
 and want ahow? To whom dl T '^ f '""* '' What Jo ago 
 
 «« the two MngMlrtLTT^ """"""'««'' What 
 
 tlio independent wish in man 1 wt.! .?'"'*'''«'*"'»'•'< "f 
 What is the concluding ^.a 7 till" "" Wh°'1 "' '"^ °' '''«■' 
 ."..K-rtanfe^on, taught 7 What do'yt kltw ^'^C t^r ' 
 
 '*.~^:i,;^ o5^i;^ ir '-"^-' -« ^ . ^^ „ 
 
 Xe< /Ae^^upi; M-nVe U in prose. 
 
 VANITY OP VANITIES. 
 
 1. In childhood, when, with eager eyes 
 
 All ^^Vf'^^-n^^asured year I viewed, 
 All, garbed in faiiy guise, 
 
 Pledged constancy of good. 
 
 2. Spring sang of heaven ; the summer flowere 
 i^et me gaze on and did not fade; 
 
i 
 
 ;ji 
 
 ;; u- 
 
 it 
 
 1 i 
 
 
 
 ; 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ I 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 ' . -1 
 
 f 
 
 ,' 
 
 J 
 
 'i" 
 
 ff 
 
 1 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 mm 
 
 180 
 
 HIOUER BEAD£R. 
 
 Even 8unH o'er autumn's Ikiwofk 
 
 Heard my ntron^ wi«h, hikI utayed. 
 
 3. They came and went — the short-Hved four ; 
 
 Yet as their varying dance they wove, 
 To my young heart each bore 
 Its own sure chiim of love. 
 
 4. Far different now ; the whirling year 
 
 V^ainly my dizzy eyes pursue ; 
 And its fair tints ai»i)ear 
 
 All blent in one dusk hue. 
 
 6. Why dwell on rich autumnal lights, 
 
 Spring-time, or winter's social ring ? 
 Long days are fireside nights, 
 Brown autumn is fresh spring. 
 
 6. Then what this world to thee, my heart ? 
 
 Its gifts nor feed thee nor can bless ; 
 Thou hast no owner's part 
 In all its fleetingness. 
 
 7. The flame, the storm, the quaking ground. 
 
 Earth's joy, earth's terror, naught is thine ; 
 Thou must but hear the sound 
 Of the still voice divine. 
 
 8. priceless art ! princely state ! 
 
 E'en while by sense of change opprest. 
 Within to antedate ' 
 
 Heaven's age of fearless rest. 
 
 GxTcH-ymJ. iVJ?t.','??i^?i. 
 
 (1) Anticipate. 
 
AN EXPLOIT OP SIR WILLIAM WAI.LACK. 181 
 
 Que,,,ons.^VU^ m he plecigo in early <hildh«K.d? Who hoani 
 .H H ro„K w.«h an. obeyed ? Explain •' Hhort-livoU four. ' Kx a 
 h« thml .tan^u. What chang. I..s In.-n ..,^1.1:^ Kxplain thefir^^l 
 wo luu. of the Hdh Htanzu. What figun. in ,h. two n'r^' 
 
 w': rirjir '- f. '^^'"--^ •-• ^^luu is thnnl:: 
 
 wnal 18 the «till voicf divine " mpliwl 'f Exolain Hu. f?.„.. i 
 
 What do you know of tlu- author ? ** 
 
 i?.-7"'>^ M« y>„y,///,, ,,,^. a liierari/ analysis and to express ih. 
 thouijhtH m hus mvn lanijxMijH. -^ ** ^^' 
 
 AN EXPLOIT OP Sm WILLIAM WALLACE. 
 
 ex-ploit', n.. a jrrert< rferrf. 
 pr-ow'es^, n., ftrajwy. 
 aM¥-il'ia-ry, H.,heljping; aiding. 
 
 fals'^^n, »., a ftiV,/ of prey. 
 
 ,i;?r ""'^,5'"' ''™*' ""■•""■ Of "»• oelobrate.! patriot Sir 
 
 pelled the English invaders from his native countrv 
 he « said to have undertaken a voyaire to T!,, 
 w..h a small band of trusty friends, J ryThaufs Z' 
 oneo-for he was respected through all LntrL for hk 
 ,r.^s-miglitdo to induce the French monarch " 
 
 ncetTiltle^^"''""'-"^ '"""'■ °^ »">- --" 
 .>nce, to aid the Scots in regaiuini; their in,1»rw..,H„.,^ 
 
 Ihe ScottiBh champion was on board a small vessel, and 
 
 ill fi! 
 
 [•41 
 
 % 
 
 
182 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 I .':i 
 
 steering for the port of Dieppe, when a sail in the distance, 
 which the mariners regarded at first with doubt and 
 apprehension, and at last with confusion and dismay. 
 Wallace demanded to know what was the cause of their 
 alarm. 
 
 The captain of the ship informed him, that the tall 
 vessel which was bearing down, with the purpose of board- 
 ing that which he commanded, was tho ship of a celebrat- 
 ed rover, equally famed for his courage, strength of 
 body, and successful piracies. It was commanded by a. 
 brave man named Thomas de Longueville, a Frenchman 
 by birth, but by practice one of those pirates who called 
 themselves friends to the sea, and enemies to all those 
 who sailed upon that element. 
 
 He attacked and plundered vessels of all nations, like 
 one of the ancient Norse*^ sea-kings, as they were termed, 
 whose dominion was upon the mountain waves. The 
 master added, that no vessel could escape the rover by 
 flight, so speedy was the craft he commanded ; and that 
 no crew, however hardy, could hope to resist him, when, 
 {IS was his usual mode of combat, he threw himself on. 
 board a ship at the head of his followers. 
 
 Wallace smiled sternly, while the master of the ship, 
 with alarm in his countenance and tears in his eyes, des- 
 cribed to him the certainty of their being captured by the 
 Ked Kover, a name given to Longueville because he 
 usually displayed the blood-red flag which he had now 
 hoisted. 
 
 "I will clear the narrow seas of this rover," said 
 Wallace. 
 
EXPLOIT OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. 183 
 
 Then caHing together some ten or twelve of his own 
 ollowe.s--Boyd, Kerlie, Seaton, and others-to whom the 
 <lu«t of the most desperate battle w.is like the breath of 
 hfe, he commanded them to arm themselves and lie flat 
 upon the deck, so a^ to be out of sight. He ordered the 
 mariners below, excepting such as were absolutely neces- 
 saiy to manage the vessel; and he gave the m.^ter 
 instructions under pain of death, to steer so that, while the 
 vessel had the appearance of attempting to fly, it -.uld in ' 
 
 his wor'' ^'^ ^'''' ^ ''"^^ "P ^^*^ '^^"^ ^"^ ^" 
 
 Wallace himself then lay down on the deck, that noth- 
 ing might be seen which would intimate any purpose of 
 resis ance. In a quarter of an hour De Longueville's 
 vessel ran aboard that of the champion, and the Bed 
 Kover, casting out grappHng-irons to make sure of his 
 prize, jumped on the deck in complete armor, followed bv 
 his men, who grave a terrible shout, as if victory had al- 
 ready been secured by them. 
 
 But the armed Scots started up at once, and the Eover 
 found himself unexpectedly engaged with men accustomed 
 to consider victory as secure when they were only opposed 
 as one to two or three. Wallace himself rushed on the 
 Frate captain, and a dreadful strife began between them, 
 wi h sucTi fury that the others suspended their own battle 
 to look on, and seemed by common consent to refer the 
 issue of the strife to the result of the combat between the 
 two cnieis. 
 
 The pirate fought as well as man could do ; but Wal- 
 Lq^e s strengtu was beyond that of ordinary mortals He 
 dashed the sword from the Hover's hand, and placed him 
 
184 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 f*iJ,, 
 
 ill such peril that, to avoid being cut down, he was fain to 
 close with the Scottish champion, in hopes of overpowering 
 him in the struggle. In this also he was foiled. 
 
 They fell on the deck locked in each other's arms ; but 
 the Frenchmen fell undermost, and Wallace, fixing his 
 grasp upon his gorget, compressed it so closely, notwith- 
 standing it was made of the finest steel, that the blood 
 gushed from his eyes, nose, and mouth, and he was only 
 able to.ask for quarter by signs. 
 
 His men threw down their weapons, and begged for 
 mercy, when they saw their leader thus severely handled. 
 The victor granted them all their lives, but took posses- 
 sion of their vessel and detained them prisoners. 
 
 When he came in sight of the French harbor, Wallace 
 alarmed the place by displaying the Eover's colors, as if 
 De Longueville were coming to pillage the town. The 
 liells were rung, horns were blown, and the citizens wer<;! 
 hurrying to arms, when the scene changed. The Scottish 
 Lion on his shield of gold was raised above the piratical 
 flag, which announced that the champion of Scotland was 
 approaching, like a falcon with his prey in his clutch. 
 
 He landed with his prisoner, and carried him to the 
 court of France, where i'.i Wallace's request, the robberies 
 which the pirate had committed were forgiven, and the 
 king even conferred the honor of knighthood on Sir Thom- 
 as De Longueville, and offered to take him into his 
 service. But the Rover had contracted such friendship 
 for his generous victor, that he insisted on uniting his 
 fortunes with those of Wallace, and fought by his side 
 in many a bloody battle, where the prowess of Sir 
 
 ri " 
 
FOSSIL POETRY. 
 
 185 
 
 Thomas De LongueviUe was remarked as i„ferior to that 
 ot none, save of his heroic conqueror. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 purt'/et^WhY^'r'"' '•';'" '''*^"^^^ ""^-t^'^^ -' for what 
 purpose (• What sail appeared n siaht'^ Whv woo *u / 
 
 fearful. What said sfwallaceVlL rrl^r\Vi; 7, 
 What was the action of Sir Wallace and hin trusty men ? Ami X 
 What happened when the Red Rover boarded Sir Wallace's vetel^ 
 Can you describe the action ? What was the result? How Zlle 
 
 the Kings service and why not? Who was Sir Wallace? Sir 
 Thomas? And Sir Walter ? »"»te r jsir 
 
 Jiequire the pupil to tvrite (his selection in his mvn words 
 Let him write the leading ideas of each paragraph. 
 
 FOSSIL43 POETRY. 
 
 Language is fossil poetry ; in other words, we are not 
 to look for the poetry which a people may possess only in 
 ite poems, traditions, and beliefs. Many a single word 
 also IS a concentrated poem, having stores of poetical 
 thought and imagery laid up in it. Examine it, and it 
 will be found to rest on some deep analogy of things 
 natural and things spiritual, bringing those to illustrate 
 and to give an abiding form and body to these. 
 
 The image may have grown trite and ordinary now— 
 perhaps, through the help of this very word, may have 
 become so entirely the heritage of all, as to seem little 
 better than a commonplace ; yet not the less ho who first 
 
186 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 i 
 
 discerned the relation,** and devised the new word which 
 should express it, or gave to an old word, never before*^ 
 but literally used, this new figurative sense, this man was, 
 in his degree, a poet — a maker, that is, of things which 
 were not before ; which could not have existed but for him, 
 or for some other 'fted with equal powers. 
 
 He who spake first of a " dilapidated " fortune, what an 
 image must have risen up before his mind's eye of some 
 falling house or palace — stone detaching itself from stone, 
 till all had gradually sunk into desolation and ruin ? 
 
 He who to that Greek ^ word which signified " that 
 which will endure to be held up to and judged by the 
 light," gave first its ethical signification of " sincere," 
 " truthful," or, as we sometimes say, " transparent " — can 
 we deny to him the poet's feeling and eye ? 
 
 Many men had gazed, we are sure, at the jagged and 
 indented mountain ridges of Spain before one called them 
 " sierras," or " saws" — ^-the name by which now they are 
 known, is Sierra Morena, Sierra Nevada ; but that name? 
 coined by his imagination into a word will endure an 
 long as the everlasting hills which he named. 
 
 " Iliads without a Homer, " some one has called, with 
 a little exaggeration, the beautiful but anonymous ballad • 
 poetry of Spain. One may be permitted, perhaps, to 
 push the exaggeration a little farther in the same direc- 
 tion, and to apply the phrase not merely to a ballad, but 
 to a word. 
 
 Let me illustrate that which I have been h^:.: saying 
 somewhat more at length by the word " tribulation. " 
 
 (1) The Greek word referred to Is eilihrinet which means tested^by-the-sun. 
 
FOSSIL POETRY. 
 
 187 
 
 man separated the corn fron h. i , """^T ^''''^''''^- 
 
 "»it«primarv^icn.fi . ^'"'^' ' ^"^ «w/a«io, 
 
 pnmar3 signification, wan the act of this separation. 
 
 -out some Latin writer of fhp Pl.v.-o+- /^.l 
 trivial, and poor from 7hT rl \ ^"^ """^ ^^^^^^ ^«^ 
 
 Biehard Chenevix French 
 
 tb image? What rrLea^t „f •'''' °°' . ^'»"'' "'^ of 
 that man a poet? Whaf rln^o i, ™>on- In what sense was 
 ^^.e 0.ek wL refe!^red\^J t'o^ Ztlid'l^-^'^^^' "I ^'^' ^^ 
 «aid of the word "sierras"? WW .u M""^ "'^- ^h** is 
 -"ed? Whatillustrondoerher. ^^"^'P-^^y of Spam 
 
 g'ven to a word ? To what rrno/ I". Tr""'"^ *^^ exaggeration 
 apply the word? And why T Tw .."^^ '''^' ^'^"^^^^^ ^"ter 
 ^^,« word ''tribulatron"? U!t :re%h ^'"'*"'^ ^'^'^^^^^ °f 
 ^^^'eotion? What is a fossil? In Iw ^""''^"^ '^^^ ^^ ^^is ■ 
 
 /?. . , ^"^f^at sense 18 It applied here? 
 
 % ■ M 
 
 
 ■1 \ If 
 
 ji.lIJ 111 
 

 188 HIGHER READEB. 
 
 L'AIaLEQRO.*' (MIRTH.) 
 
 I. — MORNING GLADNESS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 1. Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest, and youthful jollity, 
 
 Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles. 
 Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 And love to live in pimple sleek. 
 Sport that wrinkled Care divides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 
 2. Come, and trip it, as ye go, 
 On the light fantastic toe ; 
 
 And in thy right hand lead with thee 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty : 
 And if I give thee honor due. 
 Mirth, admit we of thy crew, 
 To live with her, and live thee, 
 In unreproved pleasures free ; 
 
 3. To hear the lark begin his flight. 
 And, singing, startle the dull Night, 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 Till the dappled down doth rise ; 
 Then to come in spite of sorrow. 
 And at my window bid good-morrow 
 Though the sweetbrier, on the vine 
 Or the twisted eglantine*'; 
 
 While the cock with lively din 
 
l'allegro. 
 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door. 
 Stoutly struts his dames before. 
 
 4. Oft h-stening how the hounds and horn 
 Uieerly rouse the slumbering morn 
 From the side of some hoar hill ' 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill • 
 Sometime walking, not unseen. 
 By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green 
 itight against the eastern gate 
 Where the great Sun begins his state, 
 Kobed in flames and amber light 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight 
 While the plowman near at hand ' 
 Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
 And the milkmaid singeth blithe. 
 And the mower whets his scythe' 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 189 
 
 II.— EVENING GLADNESS IN THE 
 
 ■ Towered cities please us then, 
 And the busy hum of men. 
 Were throngs of knights and barons bold 
 n weeds of pea^e high triumphs hold. 
 With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
 ^am influence, and judge the prize 
 ^t wit or arms, while both contend 
 i-o Win her grace whom all commend. 
 
 CITY. 
 
190 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 6. There let hymen oft appear 
 In saffron robe, with taper clear, 
 And pomp and feast and revelry, 
 With mask and antique pageantry — 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream 
 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
 If Jonson's^ learned sock be on, 
 Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 
 Warble his native wood-rntes wild. 
 
 '1 
 
 7. And ever, against eating cares. 
 Lap me in soft Lydian*^ airs. 
 Married to immortal verse, 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
 In notes, with many a winding bout 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 
 With wanton heed and giddy cunning. 
 The melting voice through mazes running, 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 The hidden soul of harmony ; 
 
 .8. That Orpheus' ^ self may heave his head 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 Of heap'd Elysian"^ flowers, and hear 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 Of Pluto, ^^ to have quite set free 
 His half-regained Eurydice ^ 
 These delights if thou canst give. 
 Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 
 
 John Milton. 
 
II- PENSBROSO. 
 
 How does he invite Mirth to gf ^thtm ^ h"'^'"'^?^'^^'^^ ^^^^^ '^ 
 1-k '^ What happens in the btn L 'how'J T ^' '^''^'^'^- 
 cha«e? Of the sun? Of the plown an , wT ^""^t '^"'^ '' ^^e 
 second part ? What says he of the cTty' Wh f f '"!^' ""^J^«* «^ «»« 
 "f Hymen? Of the sLe V What 1 .«^^\'''? 
 -m-uortal verse ? Can you tell the nr nl! ,f ^^'''"" ^'"'^ '»«med to 
 W'hat is his conclusion ? Explainer ""'^'""^ '" the last stanza ? 
 • Hebe's cheek ; " " Soft LydiaTai^ ' f''" ^ " ^^^^« ^^^P^^^^ • " 
 ^' " Orpheus, " " Elysir»?p,frr"^?^-" the allusions 
 Eurydice " ? What metaphor' in the i ^i . *"'' " '^^'f-regained 
 darkness thin"? What iste meanfn, !;< ?' "^''''^ '^' ^^^ of 
 What time of day is described Tn7X. T""'' ^^"^"^ '^^^ " ? 
 fat country is LsceneiytVotS^"^ ^-^th stanza.? In 
 that you think remarkableL h^Ztt'^Slr ''''■ ^°«- 
 Beguire the pupil to write the iL' '^'""^^ «f ^^Pression. 
 
 4' t^^ j^?- ^^^ ^«. -^.. .het., hymen, 
 
 IL PENSEROSO - (MELANCHOLY.) 
 
 I.-SOBER NIGHT-SCENES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 ■ Sn^ ^T ^""' ^^^^'^^ and pure 
 Sober, stea^fa^t, and demure ' 
 
 All in a robe of darkest grain, ^ 
 Flowing with majestic train, 
 
 And sable stole of Cyprus^- lawn, 
 ^ver thy decent shoulders drawn I 
 
192 
 
 HIGHER HEADER. 
 
 ff H' 
 
 Come, but keep thy wonted state, 
 With even step and musing gait, 
 And looks commercing with the skies, 
 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes ; 
 
 2. There, held in holy passion still, 
 Forget thyself to marble, till. 
 With a sad, leaden, downward cast, 
 Thou fix them on the earth as fast ; 
 
 And join with three calm Peace and Quiet, 
 
 Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 
 
 And hears the Muses in a ring 
 
 Aye round about Jove's ^ altar sing ; 
 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 
 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; 
 
 3. But, first and chiefest, with thee bring 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing, 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 
 The cherub Contemplation, 
 
 And the mute Silence hist along, 
 'Less Philomel will deign a ejong 
 In her sweetest, saddest plight, 
 Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 
 While Cynthia ^'^ checks her dragon yoke 
 Gently o'er the accustomed oak. 
 
 4. Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly. 
 Most musical, most melancholy ! 
 
 Thee, chantress, oft the woods among 
 I woo, to hear thy even-song ; 
 And miflsino- thee, I walk unseen 
 On the dry, smooth-shaven green. 
 
IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 To behold the wandering moon 
 
 Kiding near her highest noon, 
 Like one that had l^een led astray 
 Through the heavens' wide, pathless way, 
 And oft, as .f her he,i<l she bowed 
 Stooping through a fieeoy cloud. ' 
 
 0- ^M» a plot of rising ground, 
 1 iiear the far-ofF curfew sound 
 Over some wide-watered shore 
 Ringing slow with sullen roar/ 
 Or, if the air will not permit ' 
 Some still remov'd place will fit, 
 
 Teadi light to counterfeit a gloom : 
 
 J^ar from all resort of mirth, 
 
 Save the cricket on the hearth 
 
 To bless the doors from nightly harm ; ■ 
 
 6. Or let my lamp at midnight hour 
 Be seen in some high, lovely tower. 
 Where I may oft outwatch the Bear 
 With thrice-great Herme8,«« or unsphore 
 The spirit of Plato,«» to unfold 
 What worlds or what va«t regions, hold 
 Ihe immortal mind that hath forsook«> 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook • 
 And of those demons that are found 
 ^ fire, air, flood, or under ground, 
 
 Whose power hath a true consent 
 With planet or with element. 
 ^-•omctimes let gorgeous Tragedy^ 
 In sceptered pall come sweeping by 
 
 193 
 
194 
 
 HIOhER REAoKU. 
 
 Presenting Thef. w,*" or Pelops' line, 
 Or the tale of Troy^ divine, 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 Ennobled had the buskined stage. 
 
 II. — SOBER DAY-SCENES IN FOREST, CLOISTER, AND HEU- 
 
 MITAOE. 
 
 7. Thus, Night, oft b( > me in thy pale career, 
 Till civil suited Morn appear, 
 Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont 
 ■Vith the Attic boy to hunt, 
 iixxt kerchiefed in a comely cloud. 
 While rocking winds are piping loud, 
 Or ushered with a shower still, 
 When the gust hath blown his fill, 
 Ending on the rustling leaves, 
 With minute drops from off the eaves. 
 
 8. 
 
 9. 
 
 And when the sun begins to fling 
 His flaring beams, rae, goddess, bring 
 To arched walks of twilight groves, 
 And shadows brown that Sylvan loves. 
 Of pine, or monumental oak, 
 W^here the rude ax with heaved stroke 
 Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, 
 Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 
 
 There in closo o "i % fcome brook, 
 Where no prof-.t; y T>.a,y look, 
 Hide me from Dvv <;»^rish eye^ 
 While the bee with honeyed thigh, 
 That at her flowery work doth sing, 
 
fL PENSBRaSO. 
 
 And the watorw murmuring, 
 With 8U(;h consort jh they ko(^p, 
 Entice the dewy-featJier '.l sleep'; 
 
 K'. AiKl lot some ,.tr,<,):ge, mysterious dream 
 Wave a!, i -s wings, in airy stream 
 Of livci> portraiture dinplayed, 
 •Softly on my eyelids laid ; 
 And aa I wake, sweet music breathe 
 Above, about, or undorneatli, 
 «ent by some spii-it to mortals good 
 Or the unseen genius of the wood. ' 
 
 t 
 
 11- But let my due feet aever fail 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 With antique pillars massy proof^ 
 And storied windows, richly dight, 
 Casting a dim religious light. 
 There let the pealing organ blow 
 To the full-voiced choir below 
 In service high, and anthems clear, 
 As may with sweetness, through mine ear 
 'dissolve J, ^ uito ecstasies, ' 
 
 ^^^ud bring all heaven before mine eyes. 
 
 12. And may, at la^t, my weaiy age 
 Fmd out the peaceful hermitage,' 
 llie hairy gown and morsy cell 
 Where I may sit and rightly spell 
 Of every star that heaven doth shew 
 
 And every herb that sips the dew, ' 
 iiii old experience do attain 
 
 19.:; 
 
 ivj^ 
 
 "I* ' *- 
 
196 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 
 And I with thee will ohovse to live. 
 
 John Milton. ^'^ 
 
 Quesfiom. — Can you give the description of the nun ? Explain 
 " sable stole of Cyprus lawn. " What is the meaning of decent in the 
 hne following ? What is the counsel given ? What is the meaning 
 of Jove's altar? What is she to bring with her? Can you explain 
 the last lines of the third stanza ? What figure is " rugged brow 
 of night " ? " Cynthia's cheeks " ? What are the leading ideas of 
 the fourth stanza? Explain " smooth-shaven green. " What is the 
 meaning of " riding near her highest noon " ? Explain the figures in 
 the two last lines of the same stanza. What idea is conveyed by 
 " I hear the far-oif curfew sound " ? How would you explain the 
 idea in the fifth stanza ? What do you understand by " hold the 
 immortal viitid that hath forsook her mansion in the fleshly nook" ? 
 Who is the " thrice-great Hermes " ? What allusion, is in these 
 lines : " And of the demons that are found in fire, air, flood, or under 
 ground " ? What is ihe allusion made by the word " tragedy " ? 
 Could it have reference to the war of Troy ? How would you analyz ' 
 the seventh and eighth stanzas? What means " garish eye " ? What 
 is the meaning of " honeyed thigh " ? What is the allusion made in 
 the last lines of the ninth stanza ? Explain the meaning of the ideas 
 and allusions of the tenth stanza. How do you explain the opening 
 line of the eleventh stanza ? What is the meaning of " pale " in the 
 next line ? How do explain " storied windows " ? Explain the last 
 lines of the eleventh stanza. To whom does he allude in the la,st 
 stanza? What is your reason for the supposition? How do yon 
 explain spell in the stanza ? Explain this figure : " And every herb 
 sips the dew." How do you explain the last four lines ? What are 
 the lessons taught ? What do you know of the author and his prin- 
 cipal work — " Paradise Lost " ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write such passages as may have impresi^- 
 ed him f 01' heauty of imagery or of expression. Let h'm explain the 
 lines thus selected. 
 
BAMBOO. 
 
 197 
 
 I Milton. ^'* 
 
 BAMBOO.—I. 
 
 «™e to appreciate the S'hl "*/•''' "'"™^' ^ Srst 
 In those p^rts of SouthT^ ''?'"''' "^t^"^ ^^™'»o. 
 
 visited, those gl„t,o tr^r"'* *'"'='' ^ '""^ P'-^^o-^ly 
 and but few ufefw tCd^t "^'^^T^^'V ^d, 
 
 Hms, and as to another bv ,t tf '''«.«f "' variety of 
 »•><! gourds. Almon tro ^ '' "'"* °' ''■'''»'««''«b 
 l-»; and where" therr^T'""''^^"^'' •«""- 
 -«ve„ apply the. to al^eTyt;':!:" ''""'''""' "^^ 
 
 »™-nL:?„7t;„o|!;:r;heTTr"' ^'^S"''"-' 
 with which they can b"Zit .1 • ^ ^ ^ """^ ''^''^^^'y 
 
 ''-varying length of hei i" r'^ '"'"™' '''d' 
 ^^"'y can be cut and wT,),'' I " "'''<' *'* *hicl> 
 "™>«h them, their hard^trV't^ '"" ^ «>«de ' 
 
 :;;. pnonnc;, t:::tr":r,:t?r'^';f r^d ""■" 
 -nd the rapidity of their i^rawih a 7 ^ abundance, 
 
 -»*hrenLthe^«r:i:2rS 
 
 i 
 
 P* ! i 'I 
 
 *:iri 
 
 _ 111 
 
 1 
 bi !l 
 
 ui 5 'I 
 
198 
 
 HIGHEE READER. 
 
 purposes, to serve which, other materials would require 
 much more labor and preparation. The bamboo is one of 
 the wonderful as well as beautiful productions of the trop- 
 ics, and one of nature's, most valuable gifts to civilized 
 
 man. 
 
 The Dyak ^ houses are all raised on posts, and are often 
 two or three hundred feet long and forty or fifty feet wide. 
 The floor is always formed of strips, about three inches 
 wide, split from large bamboos, so that each may be laid 
 nearly flat, and these are firmly tied down to the joists 
 Ijeneath. When well m^de, this is a delightful floor to 
 walk upon barefooted, the rounded surfaces of the bamboo 
 being very smooth and agreeable to the feet, while at the 
 same time affording a firm hold. 
 
 But what is more important, they form, with a mat over 
 them, an excellent bed, the elasticity of the bamboo and 
 its rounded surface being far superior to a more rigid and 
 flatter floor. Here we at once find a use for bambcj 
 which cannot be supplied so well by any other material 
 without a vast amount of labor. Palms and other substi- 
 tutes require much cutting and smoothing, and are not so 
 good when finished. 
 
 When, however, a flat, close floor is required, excellent 
 boards are made by splitting open large bamboos on oiio 
 side only, and flattening them out so as to form thin boards 
 eighteen inches wide and six feet long, with which some 
 Dyaks floor their houses. These, with constant rubbing 
 of the feet and the smoke of years, become dark and polish- 
 ed, like walnut or old oak, so that their real material can 
 hardlv be recoenized. 
 
 What labor is here saved a savage, whose only tools are 
 
BAMBOO. 
 
 199 
 
 Again; if a temporary house is wanted either hv tl,„ 
 '"7" ™ •>*« P'-Mo„, or by the travels t^e fL,t 
 
 required .h;n';t::L^rr::r '^''"^ ^"^ "-^ 
 
 purpose, that it seems doubtful whether thev wonl^ 
 We attempted such works if they hadL^^^?^' P' 
 
 »i«'t:S^SlTT ">"' -" d-gn-l. It con- 
 
 , "^«reiy ot stout bamboos crossing eat'h otbAr a+ +1, 
 roadway like the letter Y . a ■ . '"^^'^^^ ^ther at the 
 J' iiiio me letter A, and risinff a few feet abnva i+ 
 
 IwtlysuZrtldbvdf , f " P""y '""i^"^'^ ""d 
 We to L-c^^ieTaL; t flX "^*' "''"' *°''"' *- 
 
 W.«. 
 
 frti 4 
 
 Zi.'i 
 
 PH 
 
i 
 
 200 
 
 HIGHER IIKADER. 
 
 In carrying a path along the face of the precipice, trees 
 and roots are made use of for suspension ; braces arise 
 from suitable notches or crevices in the rocks; and if 
 these are not sufficient, immense bamboos, fifty or sixty 
 feet long, are fixed on the banks or on the branch of "a 
 tree below. 
 
 These bridges are traversed daily by men and women 
 carrying heavy loads, so that any insecurity is soon dis- 
 covered, and, as the materials are close at hand, imme- 
 diately repaired. 
 
 When a path goes over very steep ground, and becomes 
 slippery in wet or dry weather, the bamboo is used in an- 
 other way. Pieces are cut about a yard long, and oppo- 
 site notches being made at each end, holes are formed 
 through which pegs are driven, and firm and convenient 
 steps are thus constructed with the greatest ease and ce- 
 lerity. It is true that much of this will decay in one or 
 two seasons; but it can be so quickly replaced, as to maka 
 its use more economical than that of a harder and more 
 durable substa nee. 
 
 Alfred Russell Wallace. 
 
 Questions.— 'SNh&i does the author say of his travels in Borneo and 
 South America? Can you describe the qualities of the bamboo? 
 Give a full description of a Dyak house ? What have you to remarl; 
 of the bamboo floor used for a bed? How do they go about con- 
 structing a fiat floor? What are the implements of the savages in 
 building ? Why is bamboo so serviceable in building a temporary 
 house? What have you to observe of their paths ? Can you give 
 any idea of the construction of their bridges ? How do they manage 
 to cross rivers? Or precipices ? How do they test them? Wlmt 
 do you remark of the bridges when they become slippery ? What 
 are the several important lessons taught? What do you know con- 
 cerning the author ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write the lesson in his own. language. 
 
BAMBOO. 
 
 201 
 
 BAMBOO.— n. 
 
 fi?ueld tikis'* «' '7f ■''" '■ '" ""'*'■ *^««">-«^- 
 
 trees. One dav T !!' ? ^f* *''"° '" «""'t>ing loftv 
 
 ^ get it, I tried to peZtle ll "■■'' ^'^ ""«<>»« 
 
 with me to cut down the w '"'t 7r"8 ■»«■' who were 
 
 .*aight, and amolth-btkod aL .r *""' I«^^«=% 
 fifty or sixty feet. ' "** "'"'°"" " ^-^'ch for 
 
 *?^«:h^nS^tS*^-fP^eferc>i.,i„git, 
 little talking together th!„ "f.^ ""''' ''»' *'ter a 
 fi«twenttoari;fb7„r «^'^ *™''* ^--y- ^hey 
 <lown one of the largest sC^'f '"^ ""''■ *»'* »' 
 "fashort piece, anrs,Sgit^:it'!:''7 t'"*^' 
 i-g«, about a foot long,'and SZpTneZ' " *" 
 
 ie'of 2 iSn "' ^"^ '°^ ^ -H '% 
 "l^n it. It held fnd h '^ T^ '""'^ '^'^'^ weight 
 
 theyimmediaybeitk" '';^"^^ *-■'<»• 
 -me kind, whilf I iTked „„ ^^ '"'f "' "'^^ "' ''^^ 
 
 '"«w they could -^ssibri^ris^rt 
 
 II' u, « a H 
 
202 
 
 HIGHER EEADER. 
 
 merely driving pegs in it, the failure of any one of which 
 at a good height would certainly cause their death. 
 
 "When about two dozen pegs had been made, one of 
 them began cutting I'ary long and slender bamboos from 
 another chr r^i , And also prepared some cord from the bark 
 of a snxall tree. They now drove in a peg very firmly at 
 about three feet from the ground, and, bringing one of 
 the long bamboos, stood it upright, close to the tree, and 
 bound it firmly to the first two pegs, by mean.3 of the bark 
 cord, and made small notches near the head of each peg. 
 
 One of the men now stood on the first peg, and drove in 
 a third, about level with his face, to which he tied the 
 bamboo in the same way, and then mounted another step, 
 standing on one foot, and holding by the bamboo at the 
 peg immediately above him, while he drove in the next 
 one. In this manner he ascended about twenty feet, 
 when the upright bamboo becoming thin, another was 
 handed up by his companion, and this was joined on by 
 tying both bamboos to three or four of the pegs. 
 
 When this was also nearly ended, a third was added, 
 and shortly after, the lowest branches of the tree were 
 reached, along which the young native scrambled, and soon 
 sent the little animal tumbling headlong down. 
 
 I was exceedingly struck by the ingenuity of this mode 
 of climbing, and the admirable manner in which the pe • 
 culiar properties of the bamboo were made available. 
 The ladder itself was perfectly safe, since if any one 
 peg were loose or faulty, and gave way, the strain 
 would be thrown on several others above and below it. I 
 now understood the use of the line of bamboo pegs stick- 
 ing in trees, which I had often seen, and wondered for 
 what purpose they could have been put there. 
 
BAMBOO. 
 
 203 
 
 This method of climbing is constantly „«ed in order to 
 
 which towers above all c"nll '^PP*"' **'•<« 
 »™«,th, cylindrical trunk otTrir^h Sd ttt^C 
 ™t a branch The native, climb theselofty eesat2^^; 
 l»"Mmg np their bamboo ladder as thev Jll^t ■ 
 'hwn gigantic honeycombs. ^ ^' ""^ ''""^'"S 
 
 These furnish them with a delicious feast of honev and 
 young bees be.,ide. the wa., which they soli to S!« 
 and w,th the proceeds buy the much coveted Wire 
 ear-nn^, and gold-edged handkerchiefs wilh whfchTbe 
 love to decorate themselves Tn „c„„ Z *f".™'™ they 
 
 »nd conical fish-traps are very q„i;idv m^f^ ^"^-'=^'^' 
 Ti.;> long-joint^d bambl fofm ,hj L' '^ "^*'- ^f ' ^ 
 
 n ;^T:Stre:i^ ~-~w: 
 
 wa. su^rior to ^rlkefv^^ ^i:^;:^ 
 
 
 W. li 
 
 1 iii 
 
 1 r 'tl 
 
204 
 
 HIOHEll READER. 
 
 They also make excellent cooking utensils ; vegetabk-.s 
 and rice can be boiled in them to perfection, and they are 
 often used by travellers. Salted fruit or fish, sugar, vine- 
 gar, and honey are preserved in them instead of in jars or 
 bottles. In a small bamboo case, prettily carved and or- 
 namented, the native airries his materials for betel chewing, 
 and his little long-bladed knife has a bamboo sheath. 
 
 His favorite pipe is a large hubble-bubble, which ho 
 will construct in a few minutes, by inserting a small piece 
 of bamboo for a bowl obliquely into a large cylinder about 
 six inches from the bottom, containing water, through 
 which the smoke passes to a long, slender bamboo tube. 
 
 There are many other small matters for which bamboo 
 is daily used, but enough has now been mentioned to show 
 its value. In other parts of the archipelago I have myself 
 seen it applied to many new uses, and it is probable that 
 my limited means of observation did not make me ac- 
 quainted with one-half the ways in which it is serviceable 
 to the natives. 
 
 Alfred Russel Wallace. 
 
 Questions.— Umiion some of the striking uses of the bamboo. 
 What brought about the climbing of the tree ? Can you give me an 
 accurate description how the climbing was effected? "What does the 
 author remark upon the subject? Did he in his travels see theso 
 pegs in trees ? How does he account for them ? What do they do 
 with the honey-combs? Can you mention any other purposes to 
 which the bamboo serves ? What is the principal ? What does this 
 teach us ? What do you know concerning the author ? 
 
 Require the pupil to wt-ite a descriptive letter on the Bamboo Us 
 value and vMlity. 
 
 Let him give you an oral account of the lesson. 
 
3ili=i; vegetable,' 
 
 iel Wallace. 
 
 the Bamboo ils 
 
 THE MINISray OP ANOEla 
 
 THE MMSTBT OF ANGELS. 
 
 An,l » there care in heaven ? And is there love 
 In heavenly spirits to those creatures b^ 
 
 SelrT'^'"r'*''--'-o™' 
 
 Of Highest GodTtbat w2 ht !"?''"« «'•"- 
 
 And ^,hi« worts withrrey^a^rS 
 That blessed angels he sends to and fro 
 
 Toservetowiekedn>a„,toservehis:few'foe.r 
 How oft do they their silver bowers leave 
 
 A.ain.tfoeieJSj^:ffl^C:i:;5-;;, 
 
 And »tT >*" "'"'^™"« '■™'«1 ^« plant ' 
 And al for love, and nothing for reward ' 
 why should heavenly ' God to menY ', 
 
 y troa to men have such regard ! 
 
 ■Edmund Spenser. 
 
 "»nb«J? Who are angeU? TOei we»T'^ ^^ °^ *' ""«''» *" 
 » he .eoond «ta„.a. L.ZluZL^T ""^ "f""'"* «"- 
 1. rif«.,j« „ . 
 
 205 
 
 1. rioud«. 2. inirsuing. 
 
 6. Duly. 
 
 3. Foul. 4. Fiends. 
 
 7. Heavenly. 
 
 '*i il 
 
 6. Aid. 
 
206 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 your explanation of the closing lines? How is the love of God 
 shown ? What are the lessons taught t Who was Edmund Spen- 
 ser? Is there such a verse as the Spenserian ? Is this selection an 
 instance of it ? How do you scan it? What lines rhyme? What 
 is peculiar in the last line ? 
 
 Eequire the pupil to write a composition on the Ministry 0/ the 
 Angels. 
 
 Let the pupil write a literary analysis of llie poem. 
 
 THE BiURNING BABE. 
 
 As I in a hoary winter's night 
 
 Stood shivering in the snow, 
 Surprised I was with sudden heat, 
 
 Which made my heart to glow ; 
 And hfting uy a fearful eye 
 
 To view what fire was near, 
 A pretty Babe all burning bright. 
 
 Did in the air appear ; 
 Who, scorched with excessive heat, 
 
 Such floods of tears did shed, 
 As though his floods should quench his flames, 
 
 Which with his teal's were bred. 
 " Alas ! " quoth he, " but newly born. 
 
 In fiery heats I fry, 
 Yet none approach to warm their hearts 
 
 Or feel my fire, but I ; 
 My faultless breast the furnace is, 
 
 The fuel, wounding thorns ; 
 Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke. 
 
***! 
 
 Ministry of the 
 
 207 
 
 THE BURNING BABE. 
 
 The ashen, shames and scorns ; 
 The fuel justice layeth on, 
 
 And mercy bJows the coals 
 The metal in thin furnace wrought 
 
 Are men's defiled souls : 
 For which, as now on fire I am, 
 
 To work them to their good ' 
 ^o will I melt into a bath. 
 
 To wash them in my blood : " 
 With this he vanished out of sight, 
 
 And swiftly shrunk away. 
 
 And straight I called unto mind 
 
 That it was Christmas Day. 
 
 Bobert Southwell 
 
 QMfs«i<m«.~Where is the scene laid? WV,«t »,„ ^ , 
 
 was shivering in the snow ? Can you rele the T^ 7^"^' ""' 
 «pokeu by the Babe 7 Who was the Bab T wtt I ! \ ""' 
 in the words spoken ? Mentmn fhnfi [,. . ^ ^"^^ observe 
 
 On what day was it ? Whar. , ^"? ^^* ""'"' '" *^°«^ ^«rs«« ? 
 Scan the fijfive lines. '' ^""'" ^'^"* '""^ ^^^^^ ^^ the poem ? 
 
 %mV. thepupU to analy^e the poem. Let him y,rUe U in prose. 
 
 I,, i 
 
 U i':/«i*Sii 
 
 
 THE DECEIT OP APPEARANCES. 
 
 The world is still deceived with ornment. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 
 i^ut bemg seasoned with a gracious voice. 
 Obscures the show of evil ? In religion 
 
1; 
 
 208 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 hi m 
 
 'ail'"', ;';:! 
 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will l)IosH it, and approve it with a text, 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on its outward parts. 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; 
 Who, inward searched, have livers white aa milk ! 
 And these assume but valor's excrement. 
 To render them redoubted. Look on beauty. 
 And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight, 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature. 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it. 
 So are those crisped, snaky, golden locks, 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 To be the dowry of a second head, 
 The skull that bred them in the sepulchre 
 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
 To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 
 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
 T' entrap the wisest : therefore, thou gaudy gold. 
 Hard food for Midas,^ I will none of thee : 
 Nor none of thee, that pale and common drudge 
 'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead, 
 Which rather threaten'st than dost promise aught. 
 Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, 
 And here choose I ; joy be the consequence. 
 
 Merchant of Venice ;— WUliam Shakespeare. 
 
■r^ 
 
 THE COAST OF NORWAY. 
 
 209 
 
 in^lrrma^f ", ''' "'^' ^''^^ •« *^« f«» '-- of the open. 
 
 Could he refer to thone hypTo ij, d^ t " '" """ '■.'^'""'*' '^ 
 without? Ho^vdoyo^expE '' n^^^^^^^ "^''"'^ "'^"^'^'^^ '« «" 
 sumes some mark of virtue^- ? ^'1" "\'^"" "" '""^'•" ^"* ^■ 
 What i« the n.H.nng of^lld of" L ^ • '^ r ', ^^r^"^'^^ 
 ing of the thirt-onth line ? Fvnl <- . ^''"^ '^ *''« '"««»- 
 Whatdoo,she.;:f\;r :.kf,^f^^^^^^ the ..^^ " 
 
 w.>aring of false hair? ExnwJlhT u Z ^^ ''® '*'"P''«vo the 
 -end line. LinTt venty tS '\V''' ,«'«f ^^^ ^^ the twenty- 
 Can you explain itstl^'? cl fd I'llrti^tr^r"^^"'^ 
 paintingthefaoesoprevalentinhiBZ^ Wh 1 > ^T^''" '^ 
 Why does the Church condemn it ? H , L " '''"^''''"" 't? 
 
 why? WhatiHthealluTon^fhn, f '"' . ''^ ''J''* «"'^ «"^' 
 whit phn.e does he ^pTss exchanged tZT '"'^^ " ' ^" 
 laat lines. Can you point ont 1 / .u P'*'" *''' "^^^""'« «f the 
 
 golden ocks"? " The .Itnll tk.i j j ,. trnpsd, snaky, 
 
 What i, .he meter? Whit L theU "".'" ""^ ''P'"*-"' 
 
 ,«™? What do you7:„V'oma°C;^r'" °' ''"^''^-•' 
 
 THE COAST OF NORWAY.. 
 
 in-ttn-dat^. n., flood; overflow. 
 
 VI Drat^, v., to nwve to and fro. 
 un-moor', v. t. to looHefr<m anclmage. 
 ^Pit^'y,a<^, full of thorns. 
 de-n'an9^, n., in opposition to. 
 
 Every one who husi Innl-n/i «+ *k-» - 
 
 » ;l 
 
 '< I 
 
 ''•I 
 
210 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 On the map it looks ao jagged, such a strange mixture of 
 land and sea, that it appears as if there must be a perpet- 
 ual struggle between the two — the sea striving to inun- 
 date the land, and the land pushing itself into the sea, till 
 it ends in their dividing the region between them. On 
 the spot, however, this coast is very fine. 
 
 The long, straggling promontaries are mountainous, 
 towering ridges of rock, springing up in precipices from 
 the water; while the bays between them, instead of 
 being rounded with shelving, sandy shores on which the 
 sea tumbles its waves, as in bays of our coast, are, in fact, 
 long, narrow valleys, filled with sea, instead of being laid 
 out in fields and meadows. The high, rocky banks shelter 
 these deep bays, called fiords, from almost every wind, so 
 that their waters are usually as still as those of a lake. 
 
 For days and weeks together, they reflect each separate 
 tree-top of the ])ine forests which clothe the mountain 
 sides, the mirror being broken only by the leap of some 
 sportive fish, or the oars of the boatman as he goes to hunt 
 the sea-fowl from islet to islet of the fiord, or carries oul, 
 his nets or his rod to catch the sea-trout, cod or herring, 
 which abound in their seasons on the coast of Norway. 
 
 It is difficult to say whether these fiords are more beau- 
 tiful in the summer or the winter. In summer, they glit- 
 ter with golden sunshine ; and purple and green shadows 
 from the forest and mountain lie on them ; and these may 
 be more lovely than the faint light of the winter noon of 
 those latitudes, and the snowy pictures of frozen peaks 
 which then show themselves on the surface ; but before 
 the day is half-over, out come the stars, — the gUrious 
 stars — which shine like nothing we have ever seen. 
 
 r! 
 
I'HB COAST OF NORWAY. 211 
 
 There the^ planets east a ft.i„t shadow, as the youna 
 moon does w,th U3 • the.,e planets, and the onstellltiZi 
 he sky, as they sJently ghde over from peak to pTk ol' 
 these rocky passes, are imaged on the waters so atl' 
 hat the fisherman, as he nnmoors his boat for his evS 
 fa^k feels as ,f he were about to shoot forth his vessll 2 
 another heaven, and to cleave his way among the Irs 
 StiU as everything is to the eye, sometimes for a hundred 
 lence. The ear ,s kept awake by a thousand voices In 
 
 dgeofthe rocks; and there is the bleating of the kids 
 hat browse ; and the flap of the great eaglet wings ^ t 
 dashes abroad from its eyrie ; and the cries^of whrcCds 
 otsea-b.rds that inhabit the islets; and all the"^u„l 
 are mmgled and multiplied by the strong echoes tirth», 
 become a din as loud as that of a city ' '^ 
 
 Even at night, when tho flocks are in the fold and the 
 birds at roost and the echoes themselves seem to CasVep 
 
 ere :s ocoas.onally a sweet music heard, too soft foT vll 
 the hstenmg ear to catch by day. 
 
 Every breath of summer wind that steals through the 
 
 We Ttt' r'",*" '""''= "■" '' 8°-- The sti^spi 
 aves of the fir and pine vibrate with the breeze, like the 
 
 rmgsofam,.sical instrument, so that everv ireath J' 
 
 n,ght wmd, m a Norwegian forest, waken^ a myriad 
 
 t tu,y harp.s and this gentle and mournful music mTy C 
 
 heard m gushes the whole night through. 
 
 This music, of eo"poi «/^ani^^ — i, ,. t , , 
 UAr.„ -ii. '•"••r--, ^>--aoe;s wuun each tree becomes 
 
 laden with snow; but yet there is a sound in the midst o( 
 
 
 li 
 
 m 
 
 •^f 
 
 'J 
 
 li ■ il 
 
 Rl 'I ! 
 
 mm 
 
212 
 
 HIGHER .HEADER. 
 
 the longest winter night. There .is the rumble of some 
 avalanche, as, after a drifting storm, a mass of snow, too 
 heavy to keep its place, slides and tumbles from the 
 mountain peak, There is alas, now and then, a long crack 
 of the ice in the nearest glacier ; and, as many declare, 
 there is a crackling to be heard by those who listen when 
 the Northern Lights ^^ are shooting and l^lazing across the 
 sky. 
 
 Nor is this all. Wherever there is a nook among the 
 rocks on the shore where a man may build a house, andu 
 clear field or two ; wherever there is a platform beside the 
 cataract where the sawyer may plant his mill, and make 
 a path from, it to join some great road,— there is a human 
 habitation and the sounds that belong to it. Thence, in 
 winter nights, come music and laughter and the hum of 
 many voices. The Norwegians are a social and hospitable 
 people ; and they hold their gay meetings, in defiaftce of 
 of their arctic climate, through every season of the year. 
 
 Harriet Martineau,. 
 
 Questions. — What is of the appearance of Norway? Where is 
 Norway ? Was Norway ever a separate Kingdom ? Is it so now ? 
 Give a description of its physical aspects. What is said of the re- 
 flection in those lakes? Can you give the description of the fiords in 
 winter and summer ? Describe the appearance of the sky. Describe 
 how the stillness of the night is broken. Can yon recite the beautiful 
 paragraph referring to the effects of the summer wind on leaves? 
 Can you give me a description of the music in winter? What is the 
 Northern Light? Is there also a Southern Light? Can you give 
 the principal ideas of the concluding paragraph? What do you knnw 
 of Harriet Martineau ? 
 
 Mf quire the pupil to wi'ite a compositmn on, the (hast of Noii.Vdy. 
 Let him ivriie a synopsis of this selection. ■ ■ ' 
 
ym d 
 
 \h\e of some 
 of snow, too 
 les from the 
 , a long crack 
 lany declare, 
 > listen when 
 [ig across tin? 
 
 I aptiong the 
 house, and a 
 •m beside the 
 1, and make 
 re is a human 
 Thence, in 
 . the hum of 
 ad hospitable 
 I defiaftce of 
 of the year. 
 
 fartirieau,. 
 
 ly? Where is 
 Is it so now ? 
 said of the rc- 
 of the fiords in 
 sky. Describe 
 te the beautilul 
 ind on leaves'.' 
 ? What is the 
 Can you give 
 it do you kiiuw 
 
 8t of NoTwoy, 
 
 THE. RELIGIOUS ORDEES. 213 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS. 
 
 Since the glory of God and the happi,iess of onr f.ll 
 creatures may be promoted by varioufn^^^r. , J ." 
 
 or example aceordin.. +^ ,v °"^ "^^^"«' "^J command 
 
 each, ZUZZSo, tr^^T"'^'^'' 
 Beside, those who^are IJ^T^ Z ::^ 
 life, there are also found in tL n\ i ^ ^'^^ 
 
 ^e^plative „.„. ^^ l^^t:^: ^^ ""^ 
 
 J2'"'g "-^Pl-ure. under f«,t,de'vo:Vr;tL 
 
 "18 \vorks. Again, there are those who freed from rw., 
 
 :7' "T""'' '•PP'y *-™«'™« -clusi;«;t wXh ™J 
 relieve the nec^sities of othe.^, some by instruct ,t t 1 
 
 — aton;y:t*l5^\th\,rh::^::::^^^ 
 
 .e name and the badge of Catholicity, that we Ther 
 siniiJar and admirable institufinn^ Th^ 
 
 v^mt 4.\';:roaf r '°^ *"^, "- "' """"''- 
 
 carry the l,-„l,t f ? ''!""*''" "» "ore glorious than to , 
 
 :i'^:tt:l^r\.\ t'""' "^"°"^' ""•°"«'> -- 
 
 alone I - ™" ■■'-'"^d.— tu traffic m the salvation of souls 
 alone I What more commendabl..tha„ to forego the allare- 
 
 ¥«<l 
 
 '.V 1 . 
 
 f 4 '<. ? 
 
 
 
 
11 11 
 
 pi 
 
 II ii 
 
 214 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 menis of plecosure, and even the enjoyment of conversation 
 and of social intercourse, in order to pursue, undisturbed, 
 the contemplation of abstruse truths and divine medita- 
 tion ! What greater sacrifice than to dedicate oneself io 
 the education of youth in science and virtue, to assist and 
 console the wretched, the despairing, the lost, the captive, 
 the condemned, the sick — in squalor, in chains, in distant 
 lands — undeterred even by the fear of pestilence from the 
 lavish exercise of these heavenly offices of charity ! The 
 man who knows not, or despises these things, has but a 
 \'ulgar and plebeian conception of virtue. He foolishly 
 measures the obliga,tion of men toward their God by the 
 perfunctory discharge of brdinary duties, and by that fro- 
 zen habit of iile, devoid of zeal, and even of soul, which 
 prevails commonly among men. For it is not a counsel, 
 as some persuade themselves, but a strict precept, to labor 
 with e '^ery power of soul and body, no matter in what con- 
 dition of life we may be, for the attainment of Christian 
 perfection, with which neither wedlock, nor children, nor 
 public office, are incompatible, although they throw diffi 
 culties in the way. It is only a counsel to select th^it 
 state of life which is more free from eartly obstacles, upon 
 which selection our Lord congratulated Magdalen. 
 
 Gottfried W. von Leibnitz. 
 
 Questio7is. — What is the subject of this selection ? What do you 
 understand by it? What is an order? What is said of such an 
 institution ? How does the author distinguish these orders ? Can 
 you give an idea of each class mentioned ? What is the force o*' 
 " Wherefore " ? What did he admire ? What did he consider thcin 
 to be and when ? Is the author correct in the supposition, if so, why '!' 
 What does he say of those who carry the truth to distant nation^? 
 Can you mention the religious who are thus engaged? Can you 
 
PLEASUKES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 215 
 
 matter? Or who a" ow ttir „^ 7 !'° '"''''^ 'e"™""" ™ «"» 
 
 .™t; B„e:;;:t:tt^^lre„1^^^p^:";t,i^ 
 Z.^ A^^ .nV. a../ defir^ ^t least twelve of the .,ost d^eult words. 
 
 is the force o* 
 
 PLEASURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 There all the happy souls that ever were 
 fehall meet with gladness in one theatre • 
 And each shall know there one another's face ' 
 By beatific virtue of the place. ' 
 
 There shall the brother and the sister walk 
 And sons and daughters with their parents'^ talk ; 
 But all to God : they still shall have to say 
 But make him all in all their theme^ that dky • 
 1 hat happy day that never shall see night f ' 
 Where he will be all beauty to the sight ; ' 
 Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste; 
 A music in the ears will ever last ; ' 
 
 1. In heaven there i., „o «uch thing a« kin. 2. Subject of conversation. 
 
 'I -l- 
 
• w 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 'I i 
 
 
 !! 
 
 Iiu 
 
 216 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Unto the scent, a spicery or balm ; , 
 
 And to the touch, a flower, Hke soft as palm. 
 
 He will all glory, all perfection be 
 
 Gocl in the Union and the Trinity ! . 
 
 That holy, great, and glorious mystery, 
 
 "Will there revealed be in majesty, 
 
 By light a-.u comfort of spiritual grace ; 
 
 The vision of our Saviour face to face. 
 
 In his humanity ! to hear him preach 
 
 The price of our redemption, and to teach, 
 
 Through his inherent righteousness in death. 
 
 The safety of our souls and forfeit breath ! 
 
 What fulness of beatitude is here ! 
 
 What love with mercy mixed doth appear ! 
 
 To style of friends, who were by nature foes ! 
 
 Adopt us heirs by grace, who were of those 
 
 Had lost ourselves ; and prodigally spent 
 
 Our native portions and possessed rent ! 
 
 Yet have all debts forgiven us ; and advance 
 
 By imputed right to an inheritance 
 
 In his eternal kingdom, where we sit 
 
 Equal with angels, and co-heirs of it.' 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
 Qaestwns, — What do you understand by pleasures in heaven? 
 How shall they know each other in heaven? What is meant br 
 beatific vision ? Who is their theme of endless happy converse of 
 praise? Explain "that happy, day that never shall see night." 
 How does the poet endeavor to give us an idea of those delights ? 
 What saya he of God? Of the Trinity? What is the Trinity? 
 Shall we ever know that mystery ? Can you cite any w;ord8 from St 
 Paul concerning this unveiling ? How does he speak of the spiritual 
 delights? What shall we learn from the Saviour's blessed lips? 
 1. Hefers to kingdom of heaven. 
 
HYMN TO THE NAME OP JESUS. ,'217 
 
 Kxplain the beautiful ideas in the ]a8fci>Arf vr. v . 
 
 ••our native portion, and possessed mt'-rTT ^ "" t ^'" '^P^**''^" 
 
 1-m ? What do you kn^of W:', ' ""^^ '^^"^^^ ^^ ^^ *'^« 
 
 ^'^T^ <Ae 7>w/>/^ to 2vrite tlm poem in prose I ef h 
 mnpo^tuyn on the " Pleamres of HeaZ'^ '"'*''' " 
 
 Let him select four fioure, ,/,-,^ ;,„,, ,^^,^^^^^^ ^ .^_ 
 
 HYMN TO THE NAME OP JESUS. 
 
 I sing the Name which none can say, 
 But touched with an interior ray • 
 
 The name of all our new peace ;o;r good; 
 Our bliss, and supernatural blood; 
 The name of all our lives and loves 
 Hearken and help, ye holy doves I 
 The high-born brood of day ; you bright 
 Candidates of blissful light 
 The heirs-elect of love; whose names belong 
 Unto the e\erla8ting life of song- 
 All ye wise souls, who is the ^-^ealthy breast 
 Of this unbounded Name build your warm nest 
 Awake, my glory f soul-if su oh thou be 
 And that fair word at all refer to thee— 
 Awake and sing, 
 And be all wing ' 
 Bring hither thy whole self; and let me ^ee 
 What of thy parent heaven yet speaks in thee. 
 ^ thou art poor 
 Of noble powers, T s'po 
 And full of nothing else but empty me ; 
 
218 
 
 HIGHER LEADER. 
 
 Narrow and low, and infinitely less 
 
 Than this great morning's mighty business. 
 
 Come, lovely name ! life of our hope I 
 Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope ! 
 Unlock thy cabinet of day, 
 Dearest sweet, and come away. 
 
 Come, royal name ! and pay the expense 
 Of all this precious patience : 
 
 Oh, come away 
 And kill the death of this delay. 
 
 Lo, where aloft it comes ! It comes among 
 The conduct of adoring spirits, throng 
 Like diligent bees', and swarm about it. 
 
 Lo ! where it comes, upon the snowy dove's 
 Soft back, and brings a bosom big with loves. 
 Welcome to our dark world, thou womb of day I 
 Unfold thy fair conceptions; and display 
 The birth of our bright joys. 
 Oh, thou compacted 
 Body of spirits ! spirit of souls extracted! 
 
 Fair flow'ry name ! in none but thee. 
 And thy nectareal fragrancy 
 
 Hourly their meets 
 An universal synod of all sweets; 
 By whom it is defined thus — 
 
 That no perfume 
 
 For ever shall nresume 
 
HYMN TO THE NAME OF JESUS. 
 
 To pass for odoriferous; 
 
 But such alone whose sacred pedigree 
 
 Can prove itself some kin, sweet namef to thee 
 
 ^weet name ! in thy ea^h syllable 
 
 A thousand blest Arabian dwell • 
 
 A thousand hills of ft-anlcincense'- 
 
 Mountams of myrrh and beds of spices 
 
 And ten thousand paradises, 
 
 The soul that tastes thee take from thence. 
 
 On their bold breasts about the world they bore thee 
 And to the teeth of hell stood up to teach'^^hee ' 
 
 Where racks and torments strived in vain to r'each thee. 
 
 l^ittle, alas I thought they 
 Who tore the fair breasts of thy friends, ' 
 
 Their fury but made way 
 i'or thee, and served them in thy glorious ends. 
 
 J!l!l*'i '*'"''■ ""^^'"' '""^'^' ^'de the doors 
 
 For thee ? fa,r pmple doors, of love's devising ; 
 
 The ruby windows which enriched the east 
 
 W thy so oft-repeated rising. 
 
 fech wound of theirs w,^ thy new morning, 
 And re^ throned thee in thy rosy nest, 
 Wzth b ush of thine own blood thy day adorning 
 It was the wu of love o'erflowed the Lnds ^ 
 Of wrath, and made the way through all these rounds 
 Welcome, dear, all-adored name ! "^ '■"""Is. 
 
 For sure there is no knee 
 That knows not thee; 
 
 219 
 
 kJ ' ."I 
 
 Or if there be such sons of shame, 
 Alas I what will they do, 
 
V ! 
 
 220 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 When stubborn rocks shall bow, 
 
 And hills hang down their heav'n-saluting heads 
 
 To seek for humble beds 
 Of dust, where, in the bashful shades of night. 
 Next to their own low nothing they may lie, 
 And couch before the dazzling light of thy dread Majesty 
 They that by love's mild dictate now 
 
 Will not adore thee. 
 Shall then, with just confusion , bow 
 And break before thee. 
 
 Richard Crashmv. 
 
 Questions.— What is said of, the Name of Jesus ? What does i1 
 constitute for us? How do you explain "The high-born brood of 
 day " ? Who are " the heirs-elect of love " ? How does h£ call upon 
 all wise souls? How does he speak of self? Recite the invocation 
 to the lovely name. What does he invite the royal name to do? 
 Whence comes that name? ' How does it come? Explain " Welcome 
 to our dark world, thou womb of day." Explain the figures contained 
 in that line. What Is said of the " fair fiow'ry name " ? What do 
 you mean by "can prove itself some kin, sweet name! to then"? 
 Explain the allusions and figures in the lines following " sweet name ! " 
 How do you explain the lines " On their breast. . . And to the teetli 
 of hell , . . where rocks. . ." ? What figure in " fair purple doors" ? 
 " Ruby windows " ? What figure and allusion is in " with blush of 
 thine own blood thy day adorning"? What is the 'full force' of 
 " knee" in this line: " For sure there is no knee"? What text of 
 St. Paul have you concerning this ? How do you explain " when 
 stubborn rocks shall bow, and hills hang down their heav'n-sf^lutiii" 
 heads to seek for humble beds " ?. Mention the figures contained 
 therein. What figure in "bashful shades of night"? Explain it. 
 What do you know of Richard Crashaw? What is the meaning of 
 the line quoted in the biographical sketch ? 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on the ''Power and 
 Goodness of the Holy Name of Jesus," and let him aptly introduce 
 sotne verses of this selection. 
 
 Let him write such verses as have impressed him. 
 
PAPER. 
 
 221 
 
 PAPER. 
 
 "ex i-b^, adj., capable of being bent. 
 
 gi.m of the plant so ^s to mTt„ rt ""' "",'^ *''" "^*"™' 
 tins first layer of L™ fit '''''' '"""''•^- '«''>'"' 
 
 layers were laM ,n™^^-. ' ^''' '''^ '^°'"P'«"'. «>ocee<ling 
 «.fficie„t ; tS "P;" ;- "— 'y. "'"il the paper wal 
 
 -nathLh:^of:i:tSnt:rr'-'^- 
 
 oovered a process of^:l:lg'Sl^r;'p.;T^' t" 
 marks of writing, and after this d sco^r^ S"" " *''t 
 
 from Egypt sacred b»ks written on Ihk™.^-'?T*"' 
 '% used for their nw„ „ > material, which 
 
 ing had been « '^ '"'"' ^" ""^ "'^"''^^ *"'" 
 
 » 
 
 '" '^ '»"■ '»'" '■ """"l <*«.. th. wort p.p,™^ 
 
I 'J 
 
 tf 
 
 
 i" i 
 
 222 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Be8i<leR the pai)yritH, tlicrn mo, ivmnants, of ancient 
 paper maJe of the inner bark of tr^ es. Egyi)tian paiKi- 
 wafl in general use in Europ(«, until the eighth or nnitli 
 century. It then slowly b(^gan to give place to paper 
 manufm^turecl from cotton and oth.;r niaterialn, the art ot 
 making whi.^h was apparently learned by the Arab, m 
 Asia, and introduced by them into Europe. 
 
 This manutacturo had probably spread to Western Asia 
 from China, where it is known to have existed at a very 
 early period. Paper was made by the Chinese from some 
 materials at least as early as the beginning of the first 
 century, and, according'to their own account, the fabrica- 
 tion of paper from cotton appears to have been invented 
 about the begijming of the tlurd century. 
 
 The materials that have been used for the manufacture 
 of paper are very numerous. In China, where much ot 
 the paper made is of very excellent quality, dilTeivnt 
 materials are used in different provinces, Hemp«« an 1 
 linen«» rags are used in one part of the country ; the innn 
 bark of the mulberry-tree in another; and in other p.irt,^ 
 the bark of the elm, straw, and bamboo. 
 
 The Japanese make use principally of a kind of mulbor- 
 ry-tree, and the paper manutactured by them is unequalul 
 for strength and softness, qualities which enable it to bo 
 used for many purposes for wlii>-h leather is commonly 
 employed elsewhere, such as making reticules.'* 
 
 The natives of Mexico, before the Spanish conquest, 
 made their paper from the leaves of the a-ave 'V plant, or 
 American aloe, in a manner resembling the ancient mode 
 of preparing papyrus. 
 
PAPER. 
 
 223 
 
 Alter thu intr...lu,.tio» into Europo of cotton an.l linen 
 ragH as niutoriaLs for paper-making, the u«e of other veget- 
 ahle fihorH wa.s for many centuries, or almost entiroly, 
 Kiven up; not mo much however, on account of their unfit- 
 neMS, ,us be(;au.se rag.s, hcHi.le.s b..ing admirahlv adapted for 
 t\w puri)OHe, were cheaper thaji any other material. 
 
 It vfm not until the cI.mo of the eighte(Mitii century that 
 paper-miniufacturers began again to turn their attention 
 to the possibility of using vegetable fibers a^ substitutes 
 ior rags. In 1772, a German i)ublished a work containi.ig 
 sixty specimens of paper made from different vegetable 
 sul«tances. From this time serious attempts were made 
 to hnd a process, by which some of these vegetable mate- 
 nals could be used with success to replace rags. 
 
 Tlie difl^culty did not consist in the mero aversion 
 into paper of the materials on which exporiments were 
 ma( e~for ahy vegetable fiber with a rough e<lge can be 
 made mto paper-but in making paper out of tnem of such 
 a quality and at such a price, as would enable the manufact- 
 ured product to compete with that made from rags. 
 
 Straw, wood, and esparto'^ g,^^.^ ^^.^ ^^^ chief vegetable 
 libers which, with rags, have hitherto been found to an- 
 .^wer these conditions, and all of these are now used more 
 or le,ss m paper-making. The coiiMination of the flexible 
 -^ers l,y which the p.ip(>r is produced, depends on the mi- 
 'uite subdivision of the fibers, and their subsequent cohesion. 
 
 The rags used are chiefly cotton and linen. Woolen rags 
 are no long(>r employed for the i.urpose. Cotton is used in 
 I ine manufacture of paper not only in th^ fov-r of r-— i~— 
 '1180 in that of waste or sweepings from spinning-mills. 
 
224 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Before the rags or other materials can be made into 
 paper, they must be torn or cut into minute particles so 
 small that they form a pulp when mixed with water. A 
 sheet of paper is a thin layer of this pulpy matter, mixed 
 with some kind of glue or size to give it firmness, and 
 then dried. 
 
 The invention of the machine for paper-making is due 
 to a Frenchman, a patent was obtained for it by the 
 inventor from the French Government in 1799. A method 
 of treating straw so as to make it capable of being manu- 
 factured into paper, was invented at the beginning of the 
 present century. Various improvements have since been 
 effected, and there are 'now mills which produce no other 
 kind of paper than that made mostly from straw and 
 wood-pulp; but the best and most important use of wood 
 and straw in paper-making, is to impart stiffness to tho 
 paper. , , 
 
 Two processes have been patented for the manufacture 
 of paper entirely from wood. By the first process th.3 
 wood is reduced to a pulp by means of chemicals. By the 
 other process the pulp is obtained by merely grinding; 
 down the wood and mixing it with water during the oper- 
 ation. 
 
 Esparto, or Spanish grass, and the kindred plant called 
 alfa, which is brought from Algeria, have been applied to 
 paper-making only in comparatively recent years. The 
 use of rushes for paper-making belongs to the United States, 
 and dates from the year 1866. The paper made from this 
 material is white, firm, and of good quahty, and consider- 
 ably cheaper than that made from wood. 
 
L be made into 
 ite particles so 
 vith. water. A 
 matter, mixed 
 t firmness, and 
 
 -making is due 
 I for it by the 
 99. A method 
 )f being maim- 
 3ginning of tlie 
 %ve since been 
 oduce no other 
 om straw an(i 
 ,nt use of wood 
 stiffness to tho 
 
 B manufacture 
 it process the 
 icals. By the 
 3rely grinding; 
 iring the oper- 
 
 d plant called 
 3en applied to 
 b years. The 
 United States, 
 nade from this 
 and consider- 
 
 TAPER. 
 
 225 
 
 Blotting paper is made in the *,:n,„ ,., 
 l«r, except that the' sizin" 1 ! f^ '" ™"'"'«y P«- 
 '"^•do from eoa,.e plrTf Zr'*^^' ^^'"^'""d is 
 "».-, or by hying i^LZT '^ '^''«™' «''«<"•■< toge- 
 
 second method is much t e !„« '''^*. '^ ^"'"^"''''- '^'"" 
 cohere more iirmlv p" !r f "' ''" '*"' »» *''« sheets 
 
 very apt to split fnto ^r^^'^rf' V'" ""'^ ^^ - 
 m,usual heat ^^*^ *<**« *>«"' «'>b,iected to 
 
 ^<™-r:;rrtta;^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 went yeare. Besides beinr, l!, i ? ** *™" M*'' '" 
 
 »"ars, eu,6, and otir IrfiS d^'T' '"'■ ""*"« 
 "sed for makine sm«)l i, °\*<'«»' "» sometimes 
 
 West.™ State^^ »r"„trt '",*! •"'*"'«^-^ "^ «'»• 
 warmer than tha made rf ' *"*"'■" '''"""J '« ^e 
 u*d also for matlrttt, """'^ "'' ''^"'' ""• I' '« 
 «er;cnir.s«es fi m^enorttT ^T"'''' ^'"* J«* f- 
 
 even bells and cannon: f;,^3^?fo —"''^^^ 
 have been made of it. ^^^^^^;'^>' carriages 
 
 Anonymous, 
 Questions. — In wliaf « x • 
 
 •^nt qualities and their resnecfivl ^ f ^''* '^^^"^'"'^ ^J^e differ- 
 
 t^^^^^on^y^oJL:^^^::. ^^i^^^-^ the i,.n..sL 
 
 otlier method of makin. naner Cf T ^^^^P* ^ Wa,s there anv ' 
 
 --paper „.ade in mlT^'^Z^^\^' ''' ^^"^ «- 
 
 paper m different parta of China ' c^'™ 7' "^^^ ^^^ '"^^ing 
 
 ">et od? Wascottonandlin neveruSlf"^'" f"""^^ *^« "^^I-^^^e ' 
 youknowoftheprogressofr!, 1 '"'"''''^'"gPap^r? What do ' " 
 
 P^Per from vegetable fiber^V &""'"' f"^' '" ^"^^ "-^^-/o> 
 
 ■ ■ ^^^* ^'^y^^k^ow of straw, wood ' 
 
 1 , • ii--*, 
 
226 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 and esparto grass in connection with paper-making ? What do you 
 say of the rags that are used ? Can you describe the process of mak- 
 ing paper? When was the machine for making paper invented" 
 What do you know of the treatment of steam in regard to paper- 
 making? How do you describe the process of paper-making from 
 wood? What do we owe to the United States? How is blotting 
 paper made? Pasteboard? Can you give any idea of the uses of 
 paper ? 
 
 Require the pupU to wrtte a composition on the manufacture of 
 paper. 
 
 Let him tvrite an analysis of this selection, and let Mm write the 
 principal poirUs or the synopsis. 
 
 CIVILIZED LIFE. 
 
 What a wonderful order there is in all human labor! 
 Whilst the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for 
 us our daily bread, the town artisan, far away, weaves the 
 stuff in which we are to Ve clothed; the miner seeks un- 
 derground the iron for our plough; the soldier defends us 
 against the invader ; the judge takes care that the law 
 protects our fields ; the assessor adjusts our private inter- 
 ests with those of the public ; the merchant is busy ex- 
 changing our products with those of distant countries ; 
 men of science and of art add every day fresh horses to 
 this ideal team, which draws along the material world, as 
 steam draws the gigantic trains over our iron roads ! 
 
 Thus all unite, all help one another; the toil of 
 each one benefits himself and all the world ; the work lias 
 been apportioned among the dilFercut members of socit l v 
 
CIVILIZED IIFE. 
 
 at large by a tacit a«reempnf ti, ' 
 
 "this association hf, ClZ, T '^'''^ """' "'^-dod 
 
 ^'"S there; each is Ji^VrSe!"'^ ^^^" '"' 
 There is nothin« lite ih;« f„ 
 
 ta-e; as he depends only u'^f i""" !" ">««'* of na- 
 "'»t he be sufficient for evemv '™f ' '' '' ""-^^ssaiy 
 P;-°Perty; buthefindsTnita^l '*'T:"" ««''«'•" « hil 
 He must surmount these oh,^! T""*. '""^"""o^ as helps, 
 that God h,« given him t ' ^'* *'>"'^"'8'« strength ' 
 
 aH than ehau'ce Id :;;;""""' r^" °" ^^^ o*^' 
 factures, fights, or thinks fo- ' . ""' "^f^' ■"»"«- 
 "no- He is a unit multin]i«i i l, '^ "°""'"« to any 
 ™glepowe«,; whilettSizeJ "'"'''' »' ""^ """ 
 
 bj the power, of a whole ^^ """ '^ * ""'' ™»'tiplied 
 
 milt f" "f"' ^y^ *«g»«ted by the si^ht of ., 
 
 °r a ray of sunshine. "^ ^ ^ *^^ '^^^«" ^^7 a cloud 
 
 ''* «is the miserv tfjA ■ i, 
 «^age life, reall/the effS !^T'^<''' '^' ■"« regret a 
 »e society of h^in^et .//l'"^'-'' ' "-' we ao- 
 "» the contrary, that it ZTu "''' °'' acknowledge 
 
 ^o-„andch,S,t X^ *7;^<' t"--? Could tt 
 "y. ''oi* in the desert for ml h f "^ ^"^ "^ "har- 
 mP^r, whose for^kenstate T dt f """f '^^ '^^'> ^ead 
 
 ^»' -- aTfrcrir Th" "'r'""'-^™.^ 
 
 "Utures! These benefits of human 
 
t 
 
 228 
 
 HIGHER REA.DER. 
 
 'I Ml 
 I! 
 
 'II.; 
 
 society are shared, the., by the most destitute. "Whoever 
 eats the bread that another has reaped and kneaded, is 
 under an obhgation to his brother, and cannot say he owes 
 him nothing in return. The poorest of us has received 
 from society much more than his own single strength 
 would have permitted him to wrest from nature. 
 
 MnUe Souvestre. 
 
 Questions. — Give the author's description of human labor. Show 
 their mutual dependence. Show he must, with God's help, still de- 
 pend upon his own. powers. Why would he seek the savage hfr ? 
 Wherein was his mistake? Give the principal ideas of the last par- 
 agraph. What is civilization ? To whom does Society owe its re- 
 fined civilization ? Supposb you were to exclude religion from socipty 
 what would be the consequence? Show how the Church at all times 
 and in every country effected civilization. 
 
 Require the pupil to write a composition on the " Benefits of true 
 Civilization." Let him not forget to shmv that where Religion is, 
 there also is civilization ; and that in the absence of Religion there is 
 n lughl but confusion and chaos. 
 
 Jjet him write and define twelve difficult words. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 Those hearts of ours — ^how strange ! how strange ! 
 How they yearn to ramble and love to range 
 Down through the vales of the years long gone, 
 Up through the future that fast rolls on. 
 
 To-dava are dull — so they wend their ways 
 Back to their beautiful yesterdays ; 
 
A REVERIE. 
 
 The present is blank-so they wing their flight 
 lo future to-morrows where all seems bright! 
 
 Build them a bright aud beautiful home, 
 Ihey 1 soon grow weary and want to roam; 
 ^ind them a spot without sorrow or pain 
 They may stay a day, but they're off again. 
 
 ^ '^ose hearts of ours— how wild ! how wild f 
 Ihey re as hard to tame as an Indian child • 
 They re aa restless a. waves on the sounding sea, 
 Like the breeze and the bird are they fickle and free. 
 
 Those hearts of ours— how lone ! how lone f 
 ^ver forever, they mourn and moan; 
 Let them revel in joy, let them riot in cheer ; 
 That revel ry o'er, they're all the more dear. • 
 
 Those hearts of ours-how warm ! how warm f 
 Like he sun s bright rays, like the summer's charm • 
 How they beam and burn ! how they gleam and gW I 
 Their flaah and flame hide but ashes below. 
 
 Those hearts of ours-how cold ! how cold I 
 Like December's snow on the waste or wold • 
 And though our December melt snow into May 
 Hearts know Decembers that pass not away. 
 
 Tliose hearts of ours-how deep ! how deep I 
 ^^ou may sound the sea where the corals sleep 
 ^ .iore never a billuw hath rumbled or rolled— 
 l^ei.ths-still the deeper our hearts hide and hold. 
 
 229 
 
i 
 
 230 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Where the wild storm's tramp hath ne'er been known 
 The wrecks of the sea lies low and lone ; 
 Thus the heart's surface may sparkle and glow, 
 There are wrecks far down — there are graves below. 
 
 Those hearts of ours — but, after ull. 
 How shallow and narrow, how tiny and small ; 
 Like scantiest streamlet or summer's last rill, 
 Thf /'re as easy to empty — as easy to fill. 
 
 One hour of storm and how the streams pour ! 
 
 One houf of sun and the streams are no more ; 
 One little grief ; — how the tears gush and glide ! 
 One smile ; flow they e^i^er so fast, they are dried 
 
 Those hearts of ours — how wise ! how wise ! 
 They can lift iheir thoughts till they reach the skies ; 
 They can sink their shafts, like a miner bold, 
 Where wisdom's mines hide their pearls and gold. 
 
 Aloft they soar with undazzled gaze. 
 Where the halls af the Day-King burn and blaze ; 
 Or they fly with a wing that will never fail. 
 O'er the sky's dark seas where the star-ships sail. 
 
 Those hearts of ours — what fools ! what fools ! 
 How they laugh at wisdom, her cant and rules ! 
 How they waste their powers, and, when wasted, grieve 
 For what they have squandered but can not retrieve. 
 
 Those hearts of ours — how strong ? how strong ! 
 Let a thousand sorrows around them throng, 
 They can bear them all, and a thousand more, 
 And they're stronger then than they were before. • 
 
HYMN TO LIGHT. gSl 
 
 Those hearts of ours-how weak ! how weak f 
 But a single word of unkindness speak ■ " 
 Like a poisoned shaft, like a viper's fang, 
 That one slight word leaves a life-long pang. 
 
 The Rev. Abram J. Myan. 
 
 J^'^'''''^' the pupil \.-.iowTUemt the question^ 2 T. v 
 literary analysis : ^ —To ni„^ th ■ 7- ,"^^" - ^—^o write a 
 
 V- f 
 
 HYMN TO UGHT. 
 
 First born of Cha«, who so fair didst come 
 
 Prom the old negro's darksome womb. 
 
 Which when it saw the lovely child, 
 
 The melancholy ma«s put on kind looks and smiled. 
 
 Thou tide of glory which no rest doth know, 
 
 But ever ebb and ever flow! 
 
 Thou golden shower of a true Jove I 
 
 '" '"^ " '^^ ^--"'J. -d heaven to earth make love - 
 Say, from what golden quivers of the sky 
 iio all thy wing'ed arrows fly ? 
 Swiftn^s and power by birth are thine ; 
 R-om thy great Sire they come, thy Sire, the Word Divine. 
 
 Thou in the moon's bright chariot r,ro.,d --.i - - 
 ^ost thy bright wood of sta^ sur^eC 
 
232 
 
 HIGHEE READER. 
 
 And all the year dost with thee bring 
 
 Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal spring. 
 
 Thou, Scythian-like, dost around thy lands above 
 
 The sun's gilt tent for ever move. 
 
 And still, as thou in pomp dost go, 
 
 The shining pageants of the world attend thy show. 
 
 Abraham Cowley. 
 
 Require the pupil l.~To xvnle out the questions ; 2.— To write tlw 
 principal ideas ;2,.~To scan the first and second stanzas- i~To 
 wrUe a prose version ; 5.~To explain all the classical allusions 
 
 DEVOTION TO THE MOST BLESSED VIRGIN. 
 
 Christianity, wherever it was received, wrought changes 
 m the manners and morals of Roman society, so great, so 
 pure, and so holy, that they would alone suffice, if all other 
 arguments were wanting, to prove its divine origin, it.s 
 divine truth, and its supernatural energy. The Roman 
 empire was too rotten to be saved as a state. Long tli-' 
 haughty mistress of the woi-ld, foul with the vices, gorged 
 with the spoils, and drunk .vith the blood of all nations, 
 needed the "scourge of God"; she needed to be hum- 
 bled ; and Christianity itself could not avert could hardlv 
 retard her downfall. Yet it did much for private morals 
 and manners ; breathed into the laws a spirit of justice and 
 humanity hitherto unknown, and in those very classes 
 which, with a Julia '« and a Messalina, ^* had thrown off 
 all shame ; it trained up most devout worshippers of the 
 virtues of Mary. 
 
D VIRGIN. 
 
 DEVOTION TO THE MOST BLESSED VIKOIN. 233 
 
 I '^f T^ ^''""*" ■»'>t'-onhood, once so proud, then so 
 tl e Crl f ' """" °^ ^ ^""^ ""'^ "*'•«' heroines o( 
 
 r« of rn T" "'"^^'y^io'-- Never haa 
 lie Church of God had more disinterested, capable and 
 
 Roman nob.hty m the city and scattered through the 
 Fovmces; and their names and reUcs are held in hll 
 veneration throughout Christendom, and will forlr t 
 honored, wherever purity, sanctity, self-sacrifice, dZon 
 and moral heroism are honored. 
 
 Christianity freed and elevated the slave made him » 
 
 rc iittt^""' ^"'j-f °^"^-"' b:n'::f^.tred 
 
 tie Ohurch better, none did more to exemplify the truths 
 ot the gospel, and to aid in converting the emZ tha^ 
 t .e Roman nobility, once so foul and ctrupt Christian 
 ■ty, when once she had converted the city I her own pi 
 d living faith cleared it of its filth, and changed"" fri 
 lie «ip,tal of the empire of Satan to the capital of Chri2 
 
 time. The conversion of Rome from pacmnism tn 
 Cmstianity. the substitution of the fishermS ring fo^^ 
 
 ^^sars, 18 the grandest event in the history of the Church 
 Heresies and both cmhzed and uncivilized infidelity. 
 
 Devotion to Mary has had its part in efl'ecting and sus- 
 te ning this change in manners andmorak SomeTndle^ 
 tell us that the woi^hip of Mary wa. unknown " Ch'!: ' 
 - age, and that it is a comparatively recent Eoman ^ 
 
il 
 
 f i; 
 
 ii i 
 
 234 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 vation. There are obvious reasons why less should appear 
 in the monuments of the earHest ages, when the Church 
 wa« engagod in her Hfe-and-death struggle with (rreok 
 and Roman idolatry, of that worship of Mary, than in 
 later times, when the victory was won and the danger 
 from idolatry was less ; but it does not follow that it was 
 less known or less generally observed. 
 
 Many of the mysteries and the more solemn partri of the 
 divine service were placed, as is well known, under the 
 discipline of the secret, lest they should be profaned by the 
 heathen, and there is no part of the Christian worship that 
 the heathen would sooner or more grossly have profaned 
 than devotion to Mary. ^ Their gross minds would have 
 been as little able to distmguish it from their own idola- 
 trous worship as are the minds of our modern sectarians. 
 But I have seen no reason to doubt that devotion to Mary, 
 the Virgin Mother of God, was as well known to the faith- 
 ful, or that they were as fervent in its practice in the ear- 
 liest as in the later days of the Church. We see and hear 
 more of it as time goes on, perhaps because our informa- 
 tion is fuller ; but there is no reason to conclude that there 
 has been, in fact, any increase of it, ar any great develop- 
 ment of it in later times. 
 
 It would be very difficult in any subsequent age to find 
 or make, even among modern Italians, supposed to be the 
 warmest, and most enthusiastic worshippers of Mary, such 
 demonstrations of enthusiasm and joy as were exhibited 
 all through the East, from Ephesus to Alexandria, as the 
 news spread that the Council of Ephesus ^^ had declared 
 Mary to be the Mother of God, and condemned Nestorius, 
 who denied it. Nothing equal or similar occured, not 
 
ow that it was 
 
 '-'h. The fair iSt , ZT"" '". ''" "' «^"'»'-' 
 
 tl'e earlier th,m nZZT ^^ *"" '"'"•'' "^'^ "' 
 
 'i'e faith and aU luVZ^rf , ,^''" '""'«'^ i^"- 
 do. f*"^"""" •" ". ■" least as well as we 
 
 Church wins her gr»:Lt' 1 : Xu, '■"''"'^^"•' "'« 
 or in nations, are preciwW ,h ' ' '" "'<l"-i'l«ajs 
 
 Wy or the woj; orhJr vr„"' "''':' ''"'""o" '» «« 
 tl'e ma,t vigorous and Ik " ""' """ *«i«'<l. 
 wWeh faith Jent'o^^'^f^ f"' ''' ^''"^"^ '" 
 »'ekly, and the Church is the m ?v ^'■""' *"^* ^"'^ 
 tie greatest losses, are Ictelvtl T'' ""^ ^"f«« 
 devotion is the n^o'st langS tblf '" "'""'' '""^ 
 
 All the great saints have been >.^ i 
 their tender and assiduou dettlr^ M 'T'^'^^^' '"^ 
 "•anly virtues and their hert , :et,t*'''T^''' '°^ *- 
 most of us could bear witness if "»^' u '' I ™'P<"^' *'"'* 
 unsatislactoxy portions o Tu'r i^s I" f ' '''"' *'>'' '-' 
 those in which we were m J A, . "*'" Precisely 
 
 devotion to the Mothrof God '" ""' ''"^"' '" °" 
 
 I claim then for devotion to our Ladv a f„n . ,. 
 fluence m rendering Christl.n """^ * '"" "hare of in. 
 
 all the virtues to th^e 3^d bur'^ '°. """^ ""^'■'"^ '« 
 Greece and Eome. aC h tl» 1 ""'' r'*^ "^ '««» 
 ;»P»re gods of their mytholS S tt rw'''" "' ''' 
 
 Itr^^i'"'-...- -f christia:lrwt^lTr ■ 
 
 .- .V ond sanotny of the Mother of God has n^t 'fail dl 
 
 41 
 
 
236 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 purity and render holy those who, with sincerity, earnest- 
 ness, and simplicity of heart, are ever careful to j)ractice it. 
 
 Orestes Augustus Brownaon. 
 
 Require the pupU to write l.~lhe queMi^m ,—2. The literary an- 
 alym ;— 3. Ihe Explanation of all historical allusions ;— 4. The de- 
 finUwn of twelve difficult words ;-5. What they know concemin,, 
 Brownson. 
 
 Let him write a composition m the " Devotion to the most Slesserf 
 Virgin." 
 
 ALFllED THE GREAT. 
 
 Alfred is a singular instance of a prince, who has become 
 a hero of romance, who, as such, hajB had countless exploits 
 and imaginary institutions attributed to him, but to whose 
 character romance has done no more than justice, and wlio 
 appears in exactly the same light in history and in fable. 
 No other man on record has ever so thoroughly united all 
 the virtues, both of the ruler and of the private man. In 
 no other man on record were so many virtues disfigured 
 by so little alloy. A scholar without ostentation, a war- 
 rior all of whose wars were fought in the defence of his 
 country, a conqueror whose laurels were never stained l.y 
 cruelty, a prince never cast down in adversity, never lifted 
 up to insolence in the day of triumph— there is no other 
 name in history to compare with his. With an inquiring 
 spirit which took in the whole world, for purposes alike of 
 scientific inquiry and of Christian benevolence, Alfred 
 
 never forcfot tha^ ^ia fi»'"f '^"+" "'q~ ■<■" i--= 
 
 people 
 
AtFBED THE onEAT. 
 
 the most Bitfsiteil 
 
 237 
 
 . '0 ••■"ta led our own «ge in „endi„g ox,«.liti„M« to ox- 
 plo e 1,0 Nortluu-n Occun, uml i„ sending alms to tho di,- 
 t^.nt ehurchee „t India. The «ame union of .eal for r..li- 
 «.on and learning with the highest gift« of the warrior 
 .""the statesman is found, on a wider tichl of action, in 
 lu.rle,, the Great ■ But even Charles ean not aspire to 
 'I- pure glory of Alfred. Amidst all the ,pi.„„L ,7f 
 .■..nquest and legislation, we can not be U: ,d io an dloy 
 ol liersonal ambition. Among our later pri,. ■«,,. the ,„ J 
 Kdward^ alone can bear for a moment comp,,, .,. witj - 
 1.H glorious ancestor. And, when tried by such a »tan,l- 
 ard even the great Edwar,l fails. Even in him we do not 
 «« the same^union of gifts which so seldom meet together. 
 The tmtes indeed were different; Edward 1„„1 to tr«td the 
 .a.h of righteousness and honor in a time of far more 
 tang ed H.cy, and amidst temptations, not harder indeed 
 l.ut iar more subtle. The legislative merits of Edward 
 are greater than those of Alfred ; but this is a differenc^ 
 .. l.e times rather than the men. It is perhaps, after « 
 " his literary aspect, that the distinctive beauty of Alfred^ 
 okrac ter shines forth most clearly. As ruL, literl 
 kmgs have not been a class deserving of much hoZ 
 They have, for the most part, stepped out of their naZl 
 
 of another calhng. But it w,« not so with Alfred. In 
 
 It iT; f , ;"^ "/T ^"^ ^'' "*" g'-^y ■' ^^ writes 
 
 tiur^hf ■'^^'" "": '""'^^ "° »«- °' 4ina 
 geums , he is simply an editor and translator, working 
 
 is Gvvn people. 
 
 i. He refers to Charlemagne 
 
 
 '■ I- 
 
 
 2. Edward the Confessor. 
 
h 
 
 •f 1- 
 
 ii„^ua 
 
 ',' 4 'SI- Ml fW^ 
 4, 
 
 238 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 4 
 
 honestly for the improvement of the subjects whom he 
 loved. This is really a purer fame, and more in har- 
 mony with the other features of Alfred's character, than 
 the highest achievements of the poet, the historian, or 
 the philosopher. Alfred was specially happy in handin- 
 a large share of his genius and his virtue to those who 
 came after him. The West Saxon Kings, for nearly a 
 century, form one of the most brilliant royal lines on re- 
 cord. From ^thelred the Saint to Edgar the Peaceful 
 the short wretched reign of Eodwig is the only interrup- 
 tion to the one continued display of valor under the guid- 
 ance of wisdom. The greatness of the dynasty, obscured 
 under the second .Ethelred, flashes for a moment in the 
 short and glorious career of the second Eodmund. It then 
 becomes more permanently eclipsed under the rule of the 
 Danes, Normans, and Augevin, till it shines forth once 
 more m the first of the new race whom we can claim as 
 Enghsh at heart, and the greatest of the West-Saxons 
 seems to rise again to life in the Greatest of the Planta- 
 genets.* 
 
 Mrman Conquest .-—Edward A. Freeman. 
 
 Require the pupil l.^To give a lUerary analysis; 2.-To answer 
 the htstoncalalhmons; 3.-To wrUe the character of Alfred the 
 ureal; ^.-Townte out questions that shall mibody the principal 
 
 Z' .7 '^''' '''' ^^""^ ^^^'^^'" ^-^« ''^l^^<^^ ihey kuow 
 oj the autlwr. ^ 
 
 1. Edward III., born 1312. His son was the celebrated BUxck Prince. 
 
MAN AND THE ANGELS. 
 
 239 
 
 r: 
 
 MAN AND THE ANGELS. 
 
 1. Man ! know thyself. All wisdom centres there; 
 io none man seem ignoble, but to man • 
 Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire • 
 How long shall human nature be their book 
 Degenerate mortal ! and unread by thee ? ' 
 The beam dim reason shed shows wonders there 
 What high contents ! illustrious faculties » 
 ^ut the grand comment, which displays at full 
 Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine 
 iiy Heaven composed, was published on the cross. 
 
 2. Who looks on that, and sees not in himself 
 An awful stranger, a terrestrial God ? 
 A glorious partner with the Deity 
 In that high attribute, immortal life? 
 If a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm. 
 I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul 
 tatches strange iire, eternity ! at thee • 
 And drops the world-or rather, mor^ enjoys. 
 How changed the face of nature ! how improved f 
 What seem d a chaos shines a glorious world 
 Or, what a world, an Eden; heighten'd all! ' 
 
 3. It is another scene ! another self! 
 And still another, as time rolls along ; 
 And that a self far more illustrious still 
 JSeyond long ages, yet roU'd up in shades 
 -_ npierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray 
 W hat evolutions of surprising fate ! 
 
 m 
 "' it 
 
 " 'I 
 
 f 
 
 8! iiiai. ( I 1*1 
 
 iJ!| 
 
! 11. 
 
 I 
 
 . JiLL_.„Js 
 
 240 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 How nature opens and receives my soul 
 
 In boundless waljcs of raptured thought! where gods 
 
 Encounter and embrace me ! what new births ' 
 
 Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun ; 
 
 Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists, 
 
 Old time and fair creation, are forgot ! 
 
 4. Is this extravagant ? of man we form 
 Extravagant conception, to be just : 
 Conception unconfined wants wings to reach him : 
 Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more. 
 He, the great Father ! kindled at one flame 
 The world of rationals; one spirit pour'd 
 From spirit's awful »fbuntain ; pour'd Himself 
 Through all their souls ; but not in equal stream. 
 Profuse, or frugal, of the inspiring God, 
 As his wise plan demanded; and when'pass'd 
 Their various trials, in their various spheres, 
 If they continue rational, as made, 
 Resolves them all into Himself again ; 
 His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. 
 
 5. Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing ; 
 Though yet unsung, as deem'd, perhaps, too bold? 
 Angels are men of superior kind ; 
 Angels are men in lighter .ibit clad. 
 High o'er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; 
 And men are angels, loaded for an hour, 
 Who made this miry vale, and climb, with pain 
 And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. 
 
 6. Angels their failings, mortals have their praise; 
 While here, or corps ethereal, such enroli'd, 
 
ETERNITY, 
 
 iir crown. 
 
 ^d ummon d to the glorious standard soon,' 
 Which flames eternal crimson through the skies 
 
 ^et absent; but not absent from their love. 
 Michael ha. fought our battles ; Raphael sung 
 Our tnumphs; Gabbiel on our errands flo.n, ' 
 Sent by the Soveheion! and are these. .nai^- 
 Thy friends, thy warm allies ? and tho; (shame burn 
 , Thy cheek to cinder!) rival to the brute? 
 r. Eeligion's all - Descending from the skies 
 lo wretched man, the goddess in her left 
 
 iteligion ! the soul vouches man is man- 
 bupporter, sole of man above himself • ' 
 
 ohe gives the soul, a soul that acts a god 
 Religion ! Providence ! are after state I " 
 Here is firm footing; here is solid rock"- 
 Ihis can support us ; all is sea besides; ' 
 Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours 
 ihs hand the good man fastens on the skies " " 
 And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl.' 
 
 Edward Young. 
 
 Jeqmre (he pupil l._7b wri^e a literary analysis ■ 2 Tn ■ . 
 out and explain six sinking finures ■ "^ r. J ' • ^~^'^ ^^'^^ 
 To scan the fourth stanza rlZrl't^uZ,!^^^^^^ '' ^T"'' '•- 
 
 o. ^o(^.u what thei/ know of the author. 
 
 241 
 
 fj 
 
242 
 
 HIGHER KKADKR. 
 
 2. 
 
 3. 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 1. Oh, it is fearful, on the midnight couch, 
 When the rude rushing winds forget to rave, 
 And the pale moon, that through the casement h 
 Surveys the sleepless muser, stamps the hour 
 Of dtter silence, it is fearful then 
 To steer the mind, in deadly solitude. 
 Up the vague stream of probability : 
 To mind the mighty secrets of the past 
 And turn the key of time 1 
 
 Oh who can strive 
 To comprehend the vast, the awful truth, 
 Of the eternity that hath gone by, 
 And not recoil from the dismaying sense 
 Of human impotence ? The life of man 
 Is summ'd in birth-days and in sepulchres; 
 But the Eternal God had no beginning ; 
 He hath no end. Time had been with him 
 For everlasting, ere the daedal* world 
 Rose from the gulf in loveliness.— 
 
 Like him 
 
 It knew no source, like him 'twas uncreate. 
 What is it then? The past eternity ! 
 We comprehend s, future without end ; 
 We feel it possible that even yon sun 
 May roll forever ; but we shrink amazed— 
 We.stand aghast, when we reflect that Time 
 
 1. ^'ariegated. 
 
 igh 
 
senipjit hiirh 
 
 ETEENITY. 
 
 Knew no commencement-That heap age on age 
 And nulhon upon million, without end/ ^ ' 
 
 And we shall never span the vo.d of d^ys 
 That were, and are not but in retrospect. 
 
 4. The Kiat is an unfathomable depth 
 
 Which hath no mensuration, but hath been 
 ■i'orever and forever, 
 
 m . , Change of davs 
 
 To us 18 sensible; and each revolv; 
 ^t the conducting sun conducts us on 
 
 Further m life, and nearer to our goal, 
 ^ot so with Time,->mysterious chfonicler 
 
 He knoweth no mutation;^enturies ' 
 Are to his being as a day, and days 
 As centunes^Time pa.t, and Time to come 
 Are always equal ; when the world began ' 
 ^^<i ^(^d existed from eternity. 
 
 ITmiy Kvrk White, 
 
 JRequire the pupil 1 Tn ii t 
 
 the principal ideas; 2-7b 'S aV '"' '^ "^T'^ e^nhracing 
 tke verses ^Hat are' tke ^/.l^^^J^C^^^^ 
 guaye; A.^To write it in prose ■ 5 Z P^ <^\^^<^^^ty of lan- 
 a^dhor, ^"^^^^ ' ^— ^« i^tt '^hat they hnm of the 
 
 243 
 
 r'|!»-ii 
 
 I count this thing to be grandly true; 
 
 Ihttt a noble doed is a step toward God- 
 
 ^!..,!ng the soul from the common sod 
 
 I'o a purer air and a broader view.-J] G. ITolland. 
 
Vi 
 
 I I 
 
 till 
 
 244 
 
 HIGirKR RKADKR. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF TIIE CRUSADES. 
 
 Ill the first Crusade, religious feelings and ontliusiasm 
 was the great spring of action ; and in the outset, :\t. least, 
 it was the glowing eloquence of Peter the Hermit, his a^ 
 fecting desiTiption of the Holy Land, a^i ' of tho hoJ/ 
 places groariviig under the Sarjteen yoke, which contri 
 huted to bring aljout I* ks memorable expedition. Their 
 mighty consequences, the dep e.^sion of regal power, and 
 the promotion of popular f. . f riorn, though in fact histori*-- 
 ally true, became a}'[>ar«.ui only at a much later period, 
 and so far from being preconcerted, were then not even 
 foreseen. ' 
 
 As the first Crunade occurred in the most brillant period 
 of Korman glory, the Norman heroes, especially those 
 from 1' ranee, took a very active and prominent part in it. 
 The warfare which the Saracens waged against Chris^t- 
 endom was considered, and then, perhaps, not without 
 reason, as a state of permanent and universal hostiliy. 
 The chivalrous and defensive wars of Christian nations 
 against the unbelievers were looked upon in the same 
 light; and if we may judge from subsequent events, Jeru- 
 salem and Egypt, in that long and memorable contest be- 
 tween Europe and Asia, could very well be regarded, both 
 in a military and political point of view, as the bulwarks 
 of Christendom. 
 
 Feats of prodigious, and almost incredible heroism were 
 achieved in the Holy Land ; and, at the close of the elev- 
 enth century, the victorious ci .' was planted in the h; ' ' 
 city, and the pious Christian o, Godfrey, proclaimi 
 
 1^ 
 
THE SPIRIT OP THE CKUSADE3. 24S 
 
 sprang ^vi ttX^^Zt jTl^tX "' '''''''' 
 the defence of the pilgrims and .' t- "^ ""^ ''"^ 
 
 Ae ..are „f tho sick „& tl t, * ™"'' '=°"'""^'^ 
 swor.l • and thn T.!l . '" """"t'ement of the 
 
 *<ol.,,i;/ .1 1 Jll 'i? !° """^^ ^"«^ *'"' Temple of 
 oonnected :ilh rat eSr™ " ''" "'"^^''^"^ --*« 
 
 mathem,.tic,a Je~ ^ ™ *''""8 "P ""'^"^ * 
 
 -eiything i. rfd~" ht'Cuf : d^ 7""^/''^^^ 
 
 own times amid all tl,^ „i, '™"™'<^. and even in our 
 ion, they hav pt ^If "«^^-^ «-'-«o„s of opin- 
 forbeai^Le of m»kM *'" ""P"'' ™^ """^"^d ^e 
 
 appeared to\rr:i:';rfef;TS S^i^H^" T 
 more the pious e^uence of St Bo nard t^ 'f ' " T ^' 
 or calculation of polirv wh,-,.) . !u "^^ "^'^'""'^ 
 
 world in motion T it^', k f ^^ *'">'<' ^'"•"P^"' 
 
 ...p.SrM'sr."'" ">"■ "° «* —• 
 
 The religious enthusiasm anri nl^jvoiHr 1.- • i. - • 
 fo^ed the sole and animating pri„;;;^::;,,tZ: e^t' 
 
iIh 
 
 i 
 
 ? 1 
 
 246 
 
 HIGffER RP:ADER. 
 
 prise were not always accompanied with sufficient prurience, 
 wisdom, and .circumspection. The want of these qualities 
 at least as regarded the influences of climate, the physicial 
 wants of so vast an army, and a geographical knowledge 
 of localities, is too often apparent ; and in defoiilt of this ne- 
 cessary foresight and preparatory information, many thou- 
 sands perished in the second as well as in the first Cru- 
 sade ; a fact which is not, indeed, unfrequent in wars, 
 where great bodies of people are exposed to toil and hard- 
 ship in a foreign climate. 
 
 These expeditions were, indeed; like new migrations of 
 nations, whi(;h took an opposite direction from the first, and 
 rolled backwards from Europe towards Asia. The great 
 multitude of men engaglid, would sufficiently account for 
 these memorable expeditions, as it proved the redundance 
 of population in Europe, which sought on this occasion, 
 and by means of this kind, to disburden itself of its sur- 
 plus numbers. And if this numerous population may 
 have given rise to, or afforded materials for, turbulence 
 and anarchy, still on the other hand, it furnishes a proof 
 that anarchy was not of so destructive or depopulating a 
 nature, as the descriptions of modern historians would 
 sometimes lead us to suppose. 
 
 Karl Wilhelm Friedrich von Schlegel 
 
 P-cquire the pupil \.—To give an account of the various Orusada 
 and by %ohom undertaken ; 2— To write a series of questions that 
 will bring out the leading thoughts; Z.— To write a literary analysis; 
 i.—To give a brief notice of the historical allusions; 5.— To teU 
 what they knotv of the author. 
 
THE MOKNINO. 
 
 247 
 
 THE MORNma 
 
 111. . 
 
 to", not one in a thl J ^"^,f *''' ^~'' ? ^''''' "^ »'«- 
 They, know nothlTl ' *'^^ """ "^ ™- « year, 
 that it is that Sf 1 davT^'^ ^'""' ^'^ "^ '' -' 
 
 theminorningisnota Itt^WonT"' ''"'' ^'"' 
 forth of the B m » „. "^"/^^"'"g of light, a new bursting 
 
 a sort ofXoX d JlT :iT ,"[ "" *'"'' "^^ «f^' fr- 
 God, the hefvens'and Lt^ ,^°'f,^-; "'« -rks of 
 flomestio day beIonm„„t„V ,.' ""^ only a part of the 
 
 ^Prings up to greet,!:? u! d e ^ aT^d' d'^' ''? ^^^^^ 
 mto orange and red, till at Wh the " 7'' ''^'""^ 
 seen, Regent of dav • " thi« f k ^'^°"^"« «"^ i« 
 
 never see. ^' *^^' *^^^ "^^^^ enjoy, for this they 
 
 guitw! tW ^fr s^'^ —g abound in all lan- 
 theWt where thT. T'"' ^'''^'''P'' ^^ *hose of 
 
 KingD^vld^^lr^^-f- of worship, 
 
 '"orning." This"7s hi.M "^ *" j""f •^If " the wings of the 
 S -I ins js highly poetical and beautiful. The 
 
 1 
 
 
 !'«« 
 
,'^3! 
 
 248 
 
 I 
 
 Hiv;ju-jR heajjkb. 
 
 " wings of tlie morning " are iha hem jf tho rising sum. 
 Kays of light are winga. It is tli us said that the Sun (.f 
 Righteousness shall arise " »\ith lu^aling in his wings! " a 
 rising sun which shall scattfT light, and health, and joy, 
 throughout the universe. 
 
 Milton has fine descriptions of morning, but not bo many 
 as Shakespeare, from whose writings ])ages of the most 
 beautiful images, all founded on the glory of the morning, 
 might be filled. 
 
 I never thoug i& that Adam had much advantage of us 
 from having seen the world wliile it was new. The man- 
 ifestation of tho power of God, like His mercies, are " new 
 morning," and " fresh pvery evening." We ^ee as fine 
 risings of the sun as Adam ever saw, and its risings are 
 as much a miracle now as they were in his day, and I 
 think a good dea.l more, because it is now a part of the 
 miracle that for thousands and thousands of years has 
 come . at its appointed time, Avithout the variation of a 
 millionth part of a second. Adam c.uld not tell hoAv 
 this might be ! 
 
 I know the morning; I am acquainted with it and lovo 
 it, fresh and sweet as it is ; a daily new creation, breaking 
 forth and calling all that ha\o life, and breath, .id being, 
 to new adoration, new enjoyment, and new gratitude. 
 
 Dav^el Webster. 
 
 Require the pupU l.— '^o write out questions h rin ipon the 
 principalideas ; 2.— To writs a synopsis of eachpanii/raph, S.— To 
 explain the all <Mns to Adam; i.—To write the sentences rem ad- 
 able for beavhj ; 6.— To state what he knows concerning the author. 
 
THE CAVE OF MAMMON. 
 
 249 
 
 THE GAVE OP MAMMON. 
 
 The one m hand .nd iron whin did strain 
 The other blandished a bl,«iy i„i fe"' 
 
 And bothdidgnaahtheirteChLhon; did ihreat.. Lire. 
 Tiefore the doo, . at self-consumi,,,,. Care 
 
 Breair in . "'^'-.'^ '"^ *^"«"' should unaware 
 
 Wn ;. "'""' ■ '^«'™'-« tl"*™ in guard • 
 
 Nor would ho suffi Slee,, oe thither wS^^ ' 
 
 Approach, although hi, dro,. . den w^reTxt 
 For next tj, death i« sleep to be co.„,»rd '' 
 Therefore his house is unto his annexed • 
 H^re Slee,, there Kiehes, and hell-gateth;^ betwixt 
 
 And w„h rich n,e,al loaded every rift ' 
 liat heavy ruin thev did setm to thrJat • 
 
 ^'.d over them Arachne h,gh did lift ' 
 _ tlcT cunmng web and sr.read '..-r s-'-- 
 
 --PpedinfouU.o.e,;nde,;;.dst;;:bia;.,,,a„,e, 
 
 ,1 ,• 
 
 
250 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 V i 
 
 Both roof and floor, and walln W(;re all of gold, 
 But overgrown with dust and old decay, 
 And hid in darkne«fl, that iion^ could behold 
 The hue thereof; for view of clu;erful day 
 Did ui'ver in that house hndt' display 
 But a faint shadow of uncertain light ; 
 Such aa a lamp, wh< .0 life do(^^ fade away ; 
 Or a« the moon, clothed with cloudy niglit' 
 Boea show to him that walks in fear and sad affright. 
 In all that room was nothing to be seen, 
 But huge great iron chests and coffers stron^^ 
 All barrVl with double bands, that none could ween 
 Ihen to enforce by violence or wrong; 
 On every side they j)lj|ced were along'; 
 But all the ground with skulls was 8(>attered 
 And dead men's bones, which round about were flung 
 Whose lives (it seemed) whilome there wafl shed 
 A nd their vile carcasses now left unburied. ' 
 
 They forward pass, nor Guyon yet spake word, 
 lill that they came unto an iron door. 
 Which to them opon'd of its own accord, 
 And show'd of riches such exceeding stores, 
 As eye of man did never see before, 
 Nor ever could within one place be found 
 Through all the wealth which is, or was of yore 
 Could gathered be though all the world around ' 
 And that above were added to what under ground. 
 Fan^ Queen, B. II, C. II .-^Edmund Spemer 
 
 Reqvire the pupU I.— To write a literary analvsh -9 tj. - v 
 rt morose ; 3.-ih scan the Jirst stanza ^dSt7hep^^^^^^ 
 the ^pensermn stanza; \.-To mention ani explZ^fZnZet 
 5.— To tell what he hwws of the niUhor. "^ "^^ ' 
 
t 
 
 MOBNlNa HYMN OP ADAM AND EVE 
 
 ' "^ "^^^»t' and without end. 
 Fairest of stars lasf in ♦!,« ^ • „ 
 ^;' Hotter thou J: If; -^_:i«H, 
 
 AokLIZ^™ «;-' ^"f •»* ^'« and .„,_ 
 In th. Of,.™*" '''^ «rt' '"""'' HiB pmiae 
 
 And When hi/r'Htf;;t-t:rri' 
 
 ^'*^nf^«; and when thou fall'st 
 
 Moon, that now meef'sf ih^ r\ • 
 
 With the fixed sto fixed in r* '\"' ""* "'««' 
 
 An.l ye five other wl n^ Ig ^I «'''"'-. 
 
 hn^ystic dance not witho..fi::.'^l.'!r 
 
 ■'.-.F™ae who out of darkness called „;"i;ght " 
 
 251 
 
 t . -, 
 
 K^ 
 
252 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Ye mists and exhalations that now rise 
 From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray, 
 Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold. 
 In honor to the world's great Author, rise ; 
 Whether to deck with clouds the uncolored sky 
 Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 
 Rising or falling still advance His praise. 
 
 Hip praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, 
 Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, 
 With every plant, in sign of worship wave. 
 Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, 
 Melodious murmurs, warbling tune His praise ! 
 Join voices, all ye livirtg souls ; ye birds. 
 That singing up to heaven-gate ascend. 
 Bear on your wings and in your notes His praise. 
 
 Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 
 The earth and stately tread oi lowly creep, 
 Witness if I be silent, morn or even. 
 To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade. 
 Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise. 
 Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
 To give us only good ; and if the night 
 Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 
 Disperse it as now light dispels the dark. 
 
 John Milton. 
 
 Require the pupil 1. — To give a synopsis of each stanza: 2. — To 
 write a literary aiialysu and marginal notes ; 3. — To point out the 
 verses that are notable for bi.anty of language, or thought; 4. — To 
 tell what he knows of " Paradise Lost " and its author. 
 
BENEATH THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 
 
 253 
 
 lih 
 
 BENEATH THE PALLS OP NIAOARA. 
 
 BmjX^""\r'""? "'"^ ™'' ^ ™t' '' *he head of 
 Bmdle 8 Stair, fe gu.de to the Cave of the Winds Ho 
 
 w.^ m the prime of manhood-large, well-built, firm ,M 
 pleasant m mouth and ev» Mv into,..^t • \l 
 stirr, d i,n ],:„ 1 J ,' ^ interest m the scene 
 ■stirred ,,p his, and made h,m communicative. Turniw to 
 a photograph, he described, by reference to it, a feat wLt 
 
 ' othtTm"'' r'1 "T "r ''^«™''>^'-^' »^ *»icrh:d 
 
 'i>o™ Falk " '^' '^''" ™'^^ of ^'^ Horse- 
 
 "Can you take me there to-morrow ? " I asked 
 
 of fZt'f r,'" f "ir'^"'**'"'^' i"'**^' *« *«n^«« 
 -"arndlL^'^' "' '"'' '-^ ^" "'^ ^•'>*-' '" 
 
 " I Wish " I added, " to .see as much of the Falls as can 
 be seen, and where you load I will endeavor to fdk>w ' 
 
 won ''rTn? '"^"-'''^ ^"'" ^ '^^i^^' ^"^d he said, " Very 
 ^voU ; I shall be ready for you to-morrow." ^ 
 
 On the morrow, accordinirlv I came Tn ih. \ , . 
 .e head of Biddies St.ir, I'd^eJed rordi ^ ti'TJ. 
 
 17 T;* °" *"° P""^ °f *°*° pantaloon , Tee 
 
 F Tf t^t „!;*™r" "'T'"' ""' ^P-of feUshoes 
 
 h " ? ■ 7 ?'"'^'' "*■""•<"' ■»" that the clothes would 
 
 «r. me from being chilled; and he wa, right A sui^ 
 
 »'l I'ood of yellow oil-cloth covered all. Mo, t laudaHe 
 
 ~r loT "r '' "^ ^^""« -«'■*-' ^^^^ 
 
 luiuess nie to keep the watfirn.i+ . Hiu hie, -1- ■ ' , ' 
 ilmvn immo.i;..f i i. ' ^"'"^ devices oruke 
 
 " \\n immediately when severely tested 
 
 ft < M 
 
 m 
 
254 
 
 HIG-HER READER. 
 
 We descended the stair ; the handle of a pitchfork do- 
 ing, in my case, the duty of an alpenstock. At the bot- 
 tom, the guide inquired whether we should go first to th(^ 
 Cave of the Winds, or to the Horseshoe, remarking that 
 the latter would try us most, I decided on getting th.' 
 roughest done first, and he turned to the left over the 
 stones. They were sharp and trying. 
 
 The base of the first portion of the cataract is covered 
 with huge bowlders, obviously the ruins of the Hmestoiic 
 ledge above. The water does not distribute itself uni- 
 formly among them, but seeks out channels through whicJi 
 it pours with the force of a torrent. We passed some of 
 these with wet feet, but without difficulty. At length \\v 
 came to the side of a niore formidable current. My guid.^ 
 walked along its edge until he reached its least turbulent 
 portion. Halting, he said : " This is our greatest difficulty ; 
 if we can cross here, we shall get far toward the Horse- 
 shoe." 
 
 He waded in. It evidently required all his strength to 
 steady himself. The water rose above his loins, and it 
 foamed still higher. He had to search for footing, amid 
 unseen bowlders, against which the torrent rose violently. 
 He struggled and swayed, but he struggled successfully. 
 and finally reached the shallower water at the other side. 
 Stretching out his arm, he said to me, "Now come on !" 
 
 I looked down the torrent as it rushed to the rivor 
 below, and was seething with the tumult of the catanuit. 
 Even where it was not more than knee-deep, its po\v(n' 
 was manifest. As it rose around me, I sought to split tho 
 torrent by presenting a side to it; but the ins9curity of 
 the footing enabled it to grasp mv loins, twist mn faii'lv 
 
BK.VRvrH THK FALLS OP KTAMEA. 2oo 
 
 Jiist quitted, and was inrf..„n ™ "'" ''""k 
 
 tl.e .shallower watei ^' ^ '"'^'^'^' ^''P' '"'« 
 
 The oil-cloth COVPrino. ,., 
 
 '«1 fen made fora 2, !' ", «"■""* '"«'"»f«™>ee ; it 
 "pHght after m/rCtL,"!' I "'"'"' ""' ''^"^'"8 
 of tl... two l,a./of Cter if? T "7^"'' *" »'^°'«^ 
 '..--. Instructed byte firsTn^^d "f °n' "^ '« *^-^ ' 
 entered the stream H,d T '"'**^™"*»'-«'. I "nee more 
 "-ight have hel^Td ZC' :''*r'°*" '-" »on, it 
 tl'e water to Jeep h1'„ „f , ' 7*"' *'• *""<''"-•«>' "f 
 
 "— nre;":,::,r;*rttTtr'''™- 
 
 '•iid at length rrrasn^W T\ ^T} ^' ^ ^^"^«"^ed upright 
 
 I'-'-d by the water, "^0"^ „L T I ". '"""'"' 
 ™d<mgofi„„umerai,le.;i ul.: 'iT '''"' *« 
 
j Vi^il 
 
 ii 
 
 
 H 
 
 ;:H 
 
 D 
 
 
 H 
 
 In 
 
 8 
 
 'I'^m 
 
 8 
 
 - - - ■ ^jg^Ml 
 
 1 
 
 256 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 place he halted, desiring me to take shelter on his lee, and 
 observe the cataract 
 
 The spray did not come so much from the upper ledg(; 
 - as from the rebound of the shattered water when it struck 
 the bottom. Hence the eyes could be protected from tlio 
 blinding shock of the spray, while the line of vision to tlic 
 upper ledges remained to some extent clear. On looking 
 upward over the guide's shoulder I could see the wat.r 
 bending over the ledge, while the Terrapin Tower ^ loomed 
 fitfully through the intermittent spray-gusts. We wen; 
 right under the tower. A little farther on, the cataract, 
 after its first plunge, hit a protuberance some way down, 
 and flew from it in a prodigious burst of spray ; through 
 this we straggered. 
 
 We rounded the promontory on which the Terrajjin 
 
 ■ Tower stands, and moved, amid the wildest commotion, 
 
 along the arm of the Horseshoe, until the bowlders faiK^l 
 
 us, and the cataract fell into the profound gorge of the 
 
 Niagara River. 
 
 Here the guide sheltered me again, and desirt^d me to 
 look up ; I did so, and could see as before the green gleam 
 of the mighty curve sweeping over the upper ledge, and 
 the fitful plunge of the water, as the spray between us and 
 it alternately gathered and disappeared. 
 
 We returned, clambering at intervals up and down, ^^<> 
 as to catch glimpses of the most impressive portions of tli( 
 cataract. We passed under ledges formed by tab(d;>.i- 
 masses of limestone, and through some curious openings 
 formed by the falling together of the sunmiits of the rock.<. 
 
 0) ft was a small tower built on a rock iust ahov^ what is, <.nii...i .h" i.....,:,.,., 
 i<'ali8. 
 
r on his lee, and 
 
 eaUed the Auiericau 
 
 BENEATH THE FALLS OF mOABA. O57 
 
 •1- torLt though t,*"/;™""" '''■'r"^'-"*""'"^ 
 
 '0 have a rope i„ s,,,.], ■! „, ' *''f ' '^ * g''"'«. he ought 
 traveller 1,„J eve 'lb/ «^^^ t' 'f -">«-' that, /„„ 
 
 - .see the „eee.Hy rfCj^t!;?"'"''* ''''"' "« '''<• 
 
 %-»■ At le iT ll ;; r°™^^^ ■'--'' •^S- and 
 tlone, threw himself oWrdHl'T '''^'' '"'^ ^' ^ ^^ - 
 "- •'hallow. Stlm) "Jf '" 'T*' ^"'^ *«» «w«Pt into 
 "'■"'«l-rf his arm t Sr "™r f-" .■>-'• ,»« edge, he 
 l>"n<lle, for it had been Wl ^^""'"' "'" I*''""™* 
 
 wading some w^ i,,T H '™°"« *<' '«*''l«'-s- By 
 -1 lUa^irL!!:;;^ ^™''' "« -^« - -h hi„( 
 
 lioldyou." ^ Kfasp, then I will certainly 
 
 Rfmarking that he might count n„ ti ■ t , 
 xtrelched the staff to ^ '"'* °' *'"■"' ^ ^^^fl*! in and 
 
 8-»p«i by i,oth of u.f z Z^:2 f . "'•' '^™'-^ 
 
 ^-:fir'rt;:-^-r«---t.and 
 
 l»-'>™tod .slinuine w' ,: r. " ''""^'^-o^ffectualiv 
 
 «« by a wo:ie;;ty «:!''; T" tf ""''''' '*' 
 ^"!^ ^ "arrow ledge! to t^e Z- /ti :*'*™' -"^ «'«> 
 
 -*■ ^^'-«'ewi«disfr--,r^:^:'X";:;:S 
 
258 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 water, I am told, can be .seen tranquilly from this spot ; 
 but when we were there, a blinding hurricane of spray 
 was whirled against us. 
 
 John Tyndall. 
 
 Require the pupil \.— To wriie a synopsis; 2.— To define twelve 
 of^ the viosl difficult words; 3.— To write his impression of the 
 Falls from the deseription given; i.—To relate what he knows of the 
 author. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL POWERS IN PAINTING 
 
 Next to sensibility, which is necessary for the percej)- 
 tion of facts, come reflection and memory, which are neces- 
 sary for the retention of them, and recognition of their 
 resemblances. For a man may receive impression after 
 impression, and that vividly and with delight, and yet, if 
 he take no care to reason upon these impressions and trace 
 them to their sources, he may remain totally ignorant of 
 the facts that produced them ; nay, may attribute them to 
 tacts with which they have no connection, or may coin 
 causes for them that have no existence at all. And the 
 more sensibility and imagination a man possesses, the 
 more likely will he be to fall into error, for then he will 
 see whatever he expects, and admire and judge with his 
 heart, and not with his eyes. Hoav many people are 
 misled, by what has been said and sung of the serenity of 
 Italian skies, to suppose they must be more blue than the 
 skies of the north, and think that they see them 8o; 
 •■"'"' ' "V -^ -iiaij la liii more uuii ana gray in 
 
THE PMASTOE OP vicimrmr.. 259 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini '» wl,n T "" '" «>''finned hv 
 
 - -.t„.tod witi, L L\ ' t j^^ *'"'- of the *; 
 
 ''fango still, whe.,,«oplese,. „ T^'- , ' *'"" '''' ">«'•<' 
 l"«e tohavo been the o, r 1 ; ir"'""*-' *''»* *«y •'"■I'- 
 
 l"*«io» resulting from ,' 'p°"«'' ^O-^ '-i "o such im- 
 '■-7 m.y have feen Z LJT' »"«'' '% ''fer ^V 
 ofan Italian sky yet 2 T I ''" '""^ ''"'^ *■■»""«. ' 
 »"-. and su^o^ii;: X^^^^^ ''-Reeling to i. 
 
 f'^«. tl.ey will aWm a bC TkvT ''''''"'' ''^ "'^ "''•«^- 
 '"I. »d reject the mJt fL, J " " f'"""* '^ ''« *™tl>- 
 »'f*utes oat.,y a«:::5 «. la """'"•'"« °f ''" *« real 
 
 • •'<'*« Ruakin. 
 Jieqmre the jmjnl I._7!, „.,.;,„ 
 
 , i 
 
 THE PLEASURE OF VXOISSITUDR 
 
 1. Now the golden Morn aloft 
 
 Waves her dew-bespangled win. • 
 With vermeil cheek and whisper Toft, 
 She woos the tardy Spring! 
 
 TlUprUstarta, and calls around ' 
 -■■« sleepmg fragrance from the ^ronnd ■ 
 
if 
 
 ^^^ HIGHER READER. 
 
 And lightly o'er the living scene 
 Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 
 
 2. New born flocks, in rustic dance, 
 Frisking ply their feeble feet ; 
 Forgetful of their wintry trance. 
 The birds his presence greet ; 
 But chief, the sky-lark warbles high 
 His trembling, thrilling ecstasy ; 
 And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 
 Melts into air and liquid light. 
 
 3. Kise, my soul ! on wings of fire, 
 
 Bise the rapturous choirs among ; 
 Hark ! 'tis nature' strikes the lyre,'^ 
 
 And leads the general song ; 
 Warm let the lyric transport flow, 
 Warm as the ray that bids it glow ; 
 And animates the vernal grove 
 With health, with harmony, and love. 
 
 4. Yesterday the sullen year 
 
 Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ; 
 Mute as the music of the air, 
 
 The herd stood drooping by : 
 Their raptures saw that wildly flow, 
 No yesterday nor morrow know ; 
 Tis man alone that joy desires 
 With forward and reverted eyes. 
 
 5. Smiles on past misfortunes brow 
 Soft Reflection 8 hand can trace ; 
 Ar i over the cheek of Sorrow throw 
 
6- SWi, where rosy pleasure ,^, 
 
 i^pioacfting comfort view • 
 
 The hues of bliss more briltiv 1 
 Chast sed bv q^K] . ""gntiy glow, 
 
 A nrl K> , '^ '^'^^^^ *»its of woe • 
 
 The meanest flow'ret of th73e' 
 
 «hee"st:r::^-.P'o-re flows; 
 
 AiiS + * crystalline well 
 
 And tastes it a^ it „^^^ 
 
 Where broad and f ^ '"^'"^"^ ^^od, 
 
 262 
 
 llflMlHHHIl 
 
»f 
 
 I- 11? 
 
 262 
 
 HIGHER READT?R. 
 
 Require the pupil 1, — To ivrlte a lUeniry anali/sis ; 2. — To scan 
 the sixth stajiza ; 3. — To point out the personijicaiions ; 4. — 7b select 
 the bri^t vernen ; 5. — To point out the most striking ideas; fi. — To trll 
 smncthiuf) of the author. 
 
 THE OASTLE OP INDOLENOE, 
 
 mortal man, who livest here by toil, 
 Do not complain of this thy hard estate ; 
 That like an emmet thou must ever moil, 
 Is a sad sentence of an ancient date ; 
 And, certes,* there is for it reason great ; 
 For, though sometiines it makes thee weep and wail^ 
 And curse thy star, nvi-l f irly drudge and late, 
 Withouten that wo«l<t .' /ii'ie a heavier vale, 
 Loose life, unruly passioiis, find diseases pale. 
 
 In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, 
 "With woody hill o'er hill encompassed round, 
 A most enchanting wizard did abide. 
 Than whom a fiend mere fell is nowhere found. 
 It was, I ween, a lonely spot of ground : 
 And there a season atween June and May, 
 Half pranked with 8pring,with summer half imbrowhed, 
 A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, 
 No living wight could work, ne cared even for play. 
 
 James Thomson. 
 
 Require the pupil. 1. — Ih write a literary analysis ; 2. — To render 
 ii in prose ; 3. — To j)oint three or J ur figures; 4. — To say some- 
 thing of Jam.es Thomson. 
 
 (I) Certainly. 
 
THE GOLr.EN TEMPLE OK rfi 
 
 ERV. 
 
 263 
 
 THE GOLDEN TEMPLE PERU 
 
 The most ancient of I ^;; '^^^'!' ^^^^^'^^^ expenditure. 
 
 iounders of the Peruvian line we.l t^;:^^ *^-' ^"oval 
 From tliiH circumstance thi'^ ...n!f ^^^^^'« l>roeeede(i 
 
 veneration. ^'' '''^"^"^^T w.i. lield in peculiar 
 
 Fvery thing which belonged to it Pv. .u . 
 of ma,.., which surrounded1h<. VI' ? ^^' ^"""^ «^'^« 
 
 ofits domain, partook of a p i ^fV"' '""^'^ ^'^^^"^ 
 y^-arly produce was di.stributed ! '^'^"^^^3^' The 
 
 «tone-houses in small ouanl 7'"^, *^" ^^^^^^^^ P^^ic 
 would sanctify the rS :;,?''" ^^"^^^^-^' that 
 was the n.an who could^c^:; evenTn""'"!^'^; ^^^^^'1^^ 
 harvest for his own granary! °* *^'"' ^^«««^'J 
 
 But the most renowned nf fl, -d 
 Fide of the capital, and the wo"?.?" '^"'PH the 
 tuzco, where, „„der tlie muniZr , ''"'I'"'''' *"» »' 
 -gnx, it had become ,so en" ich ^r "'. ° ""''''^"' '°'''- 
 "f Coricancha, ov ■' The p! « 'f g'T " T""" *''" "'""» 
 l"-'"cil>al building and ,=evp,-,l I , ''' <=°'«'»te(l of a 
 ">veri„g a large 'extent og:*:^:';™^ ■"'^™-"M-. 
 •".d completely surrounded by ' w' ^'t °' *" "''y- 
 «l'fices, was all constructed of stone ' ^'"^ "'<' 
 
 Jt:t;:;;l",:^~t«<' t-^at a ,Vniard,who 
 tw., edifices if s/a'iCw r oftr ' °'", *'' ""■'«»-!>• 
 ^' all to be compLd w h t yt^T. '""■''^''"^'''P' -«"•« 
 
 • ^''' "I'S substantial, and 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 1993, Applied Image, Inc., All Rights Reserved 
 
264 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 in soino respects, magnificent structure, was tliatched with 
 straw ! 
 
 The interior of the temple was the most worthy of ad- 
 miration. It was Uterally a mine of gold. On tlio west- 
 ern wall was emblazoned a representation of tl.ie deity, 
 consisting of a human countenance looking forth from in- 
 numerable rays of light, which darted out from it in every 
 direction. The figure was engraved on a massive plate of 
 geld of enormous dimensions, thickly powdered with emer- 
 alds and precious stones. 
 
 It was so situated in front of the great eastern portal, 
 that the rays of the morning sun tell directly upon it at 
 its rising, lighting up the apartment with a brilliancy 
 that seemed more than natural, and which wa»s reflected 
 back from the golden ornaments with which the walls and 
 ceilings were everywhere incrusted. 
 
 Gold was said by the people to be " the tears wept by 
 the sun," and every part of the interior of the tempk' 
 glowed with burnished plates and studs of the precious 
 metal. The cornices, which surrounded the walls of the 
 sanctuary, were of the same costly material ; and a broad 
 belt or frieze of gold, set into the stone-work, surrounded 
 the whole exterior of the edifice. 
 
 Adjoining the principal structure were several chapels 
 of smaller dimensions. One of them Wiis consecrated to 
 the Moon, the deity held next in reverence, im the mother 
 of the Incas. Her effigy was represented in the same 
 manner as that of the Sun, on a vast plate that nearly 
 covered one side of the apartment. But this plate, tis W(^ll 
 as all the decorations of the building, wtis of silver, as 
 suited to the pale silvery light of the beautiful planet. 
 
a tl.\atched with 
 
 ME GOLMi, MMPLH OF PBm. 
 
 ■nmistera of vengeance Tt7 T"''"^'^*"^""'"'"^ 
 ""<' » third to fheSiL''r '■""'' ""^'«''*'"»8; 
 "Panned the wa!!, of the ^ T H ™T'"°'-«' "-h 
 :»t a« Its own. There were LTh '*''""" "« ""l'- 
 
 "•"nerous priests who oonductJdV" '"^'"""'^tion of the. 
 All the plate the „ ''"""^ "'""^ '«»?'«• 
 
 7tio;.. aSirrntf:, :r^ °' --^ "- 
 
 •'•e In* m cornet ™f::'r •«";<' -'>' ««"of 
 ;h.ch held the water for^ L •'f, P*"^"""""' «'« ewe,^ . 
 
 Quoted it through snbtern^rusl, ■"''"' "•"•''' «">- 
 ;'m there.,erv„ir, that re"Zd " ' ','"" "'« ''»"<1- 
 ""Plements used in the gardZ „ f;."™" "'" '*"™lt"ml 
 "'e same rich materials, *'" '*"'P'«' »«'-e all of 
 
 The gardens sparkled witl, a 
 ""'1 various imitations of^ 1 "'T "^ «°''' "'"l «lver 
 ,7*. also, wore to II ^ X'*'''^ ""■"«*"■• An. 
 'I»a, with its golden fl e e wt '~""°'« *'"* the 
 :"";|-d in the same style IndXraT P""""''-".— 
 "' th,s insto,,,.,, pn^ld. • dM nl '■"«'•''«/'« «ki", which, 
 "i« matcual. ''^""'""'•P'^^ the excellence of 
 
 7 tSlfT^mTTefdTtr "" """°-' --'*- 
 ! »"». -»-. the' sun'^'ht „ "r.T' o^"'" ™™n>er ■ 
 
 •*>:tremityofh 
 
 ■'%^ tou(>lied the southc 
 
 .-7-^yorii,8 eourne, rofu,-nr>(Pr-- southern 
 
 ■^- i-«-ts of his chosen people t rif '' "' '' '^ «'''^'^^^« 
 
 P«opie by his presence. On this 
 
266 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 occasion tlie Indian nobles from the different quarters ol 
 of the country thronged to the capital to take part in the 
 great religious celebration. 
 
 For three days previous, there wp^ a general feast, and 
 no fire was allowed to be lighted in the dwellings. When 
 the appointed day arrived, the Incaand his court, followed 
 by the whole population of the city, assembled at earl}- 
 dawn in the great square to greet the rising of the sun. 
 
 They were dressed in their gayest apparel, and the In- 
 dian lords vied with one another in the display of costly 
 ornaments and jewels on their persons, while canopies of 
 gaudy feather-work an^ richly tinted stuffs, borne by tlir 
 attendants over their heads, gave to the square and the 
 streets that emptied into it, the appearance of being 
 spread ovt;r with one vast and magnificent awning. 
 
 Eagerly they watched the coming of their deity, and, 
 no sooner did his first yellow rays strike the turrets and 
 loftiest buildings of the capital, than a shout of joy I 
 forth from the assembled multitude, accompanied by song.s 
 of triumph, and the wild melody of barbaric instruments, 
 that swelled louder and louder as his bright orb, rising 
 above the mountain range toward the ea-?t, shone in full 
 splendor on his worshippers. 
 
 After the usual ceremonies of adoration, a libation Wi'>s 
 offered to the great deity by the Inca, from a huge golden 
 vase, filled with fermented liquor of maize or of maguey, 
 which, after the monarch had tasted it himself, he distrib- 
 uted^ among his royal kindred. These ceremonies com- 
 pleted, the vast assembly was arranged in order of pro- 
 cession, and took its way toward the Coricuncha. 
 
 IViUiani HickUiig PreacotC. 
 
THE HUKRICANE. 267 
 
 '".'Z <A« Pcrmiam\.-To2fi.' f~ ^'''''^ '^"'^ f^^ts concern- 
 
 THE HURRIOANE. 
 
 Various portions of our country have -f ^irt' . ■ 
 ods, suffered severely from the i,ffl. . ^^""^ P^'"" 
 
 ocfon of th.t a»to„«hi„g reL„tioro7reth!t[T'- 
 meat even now brimra wifi. .•* i- einereal ele- 
 
 ti.at I fee. . ff ab^ Jl^V^I' 'Tf all HH ^ """"■™' 
 of the circulation of my bird "^^^-dden stoppage 
 
 weather waa pleasant, and I thou,*r\. T 
 
 usoalatthatseion. My 1 J,e J:!,"'' ' ''"™f '^''" 
 »nd my thoughts woreTTeeTt 1 1"^'?'^^ '''""«' 
 
 tanoe Creek, when on a. an^Lio^ T . i 
 
 „„^. ■ 0.1 " ^ it;"^arkeci 
 
 ence in the 
 
 a- great difter- 
 
 f '! 
 
 -pectof the heavens. A 1.;^- tL^^^r W 
 
268 
 
 HIOHER READKR. 
 
 1 
 
 :|j ■ 
 
 1^ ■ 
 
 overapread the country, and I had for some time expected 
 an earthquake, but my horse exhibited no propensity to 
 to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. I had nearly 
 arrived at the verge of the valie>, when I thought fit to 
 stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst 
 which had come upon me. 
 
 I wa.s leaning on my knees, with my hps about to touch 
 the water, when, from my proximity to the earth, I heard 
 a distant murmuring sound of an extraordinary nature. I 
 drank, however, and as I rase on my feet, looked towards 
 the south-west, when I observed a yellowish oval spot, the 
 appearance of which was (Juite new to me. Little time 
 was left to me for consideration, as the next moment a 
 smart breeze began to agitate the taller trees. It increased 
 to an unexpected height, and already the smaller branches 
 and twigs were seen falling in a slanting direction towards 
 the ground. Two minutes had scarcely elapsed, when the 
 whole forest before me was in fearful motion. Here and 
 there, where one tree pressed against another, a creaking 
 noise was produced, similai to that occasioned by the vio- 
 lent gusts which sometimes sweep over the country. 
 Turning instinctively toward the direction from which the 
 wind blew, I saw to my great astonishment, that the no- 
 blest trees of the forest bent their lofty heads for a while, 
 and unable to stand against the bkst, were falling to pie- 
 ces. First, the brances were broken oflf with a crackling 
 noise, then went the upper part of the massy trunks, and 
 m many places whole trees of gigantic size were falling 
 entire to the ground. So rapid was the progress of the 
 storm, that before I could think of taking measures to in- 
 sure my safety, the hurricane was oppKJsite to the place 
 
niK IWRRWANE. 269 
 
 where I stood. Never can I foriret ff.« 
 
 -omeut presented itself. The ^tl ^f u'T' ""^'"'^ '^''' 
 
 n"^ving in the 8tranap<.t mo ■ , ^^ ^""^^^ ^«re seen 
 
 »lo»d of tahe., a4 on ^I^^ *''f^^ »»--!» "ke a 
 filW with fallen tree^ " H * '^'*'''*«' » *«" sp^ce 
 
 was about a fourth of » If f ^ '^"P'^*- This 
 imagination resemhL ,1.^ ! '" '"''^*^"'' ""<' *<> my 
 with it. thournl i tl"»^^^^ "^ »f '-e Missisaipp( 
 
 -, and inclined in vtruTdelr'u T"^' '" *^ 
 resembled that of the i>re»t „7^ T' ,, "^ ''°™'''<' ""'se 
 howled along in the life otT'f 1 ^'^^'''' ""<• «« " 
 
 Ouced a feeling in mrmind ^M'^''''"^ "^"'P^^' P™" 
 «ibe. ^ "'"^ "'^'<''' " » impossible to de- 
 
 *hih'tritfr' ^'"'™""'' -- "- over 
 ■^en bVlmlgS dl""'"' '^'""^'-' '"at had 
 tl'eblast,°asifdrawnCLdt;"«^'*^'^ "*" '*^"'8 
 Tl'ey were floated in Zlfr flT' "r"™"' P^^^''- 
 'Ul'ported by the thick ma«! 'ft ^T. '"'"'" '■^'''- «« ^^ 
 tl'e ground. The skv hll '"** '''*' '"«'' "bove 
 
 a. extn,medy drs^^l^ ' T," S'''^^"'^'' '«"<! hue, and 
 
 WnednomaLaI;„j,:,J:S ";""-■»-'' '*""« ™- 
 
 '-onted.pect;t;r:or;;a=:^ 
 
 I't^ 
 
 : 'I 
 
Hi 
 
 i'! 
 
 I 
 
 .270 
 
 i,. j 
 
 HIOHER READER. 
 
 whether I should return to Morgantown, or attempt to 
 force my way through the wrecks of the tempest. My 
 business, however, being of an urgent nature, I ventured 
 into the path of tlie storm, and, after encountering innu- 
 merable difficulties, succeeded in crossing it, I wa« obliged 
 to lead my horse by the bridle to enable him to leap ov(4' 
 the fallen trees, whilst I scraml)led over or under them in 
 the best way I could, at times so hemmed in by the broken 
 tops and tangled branches, as almost to become desperate. 
 On arriving at my house, I gave an account ofwhat I had 
 seen, when, to my surprise, I was told that there had been 
 very litf'e wind in the neighborhood, although in the streets 
 and gardens many branches and twigs had fallen in a 
 manner which excited great surprise. 
 
 Many wondrous accounts of the devastating effect of 
 this hurricane were circulated in the country after its 
 occurrence. Some log-houses, we were told, had been over- 
 turned, and their inmates destroyed. One person inform.'.! 
 me that a wire sifter had been conveyed by the gust to a 
 distance of many miles. Another had found a cow lod^a^d 
 m the fork of a large half-broken tree. ° 
 
 But as I am disposed to relate only what I have myself 
 seen, I will not lead you into the region of romance, but 
 shall content myself by saying that much damage was done 
 by this awful visitation. The valley is yet a desolate place 
 overgrown with briers and baches, thickly entangled 
 amidst the tops and trunks of the fallen trees, and is^'the 
 resort of ravenous animals, to which they betake themselves 
 when pursued by man, or after they have committed their 
 depredations on the farms of the surrounding district. I 
 have erosscd the path of the storm, at a distance of a him- 
 
THE HUIIUIOA^K. 
 
 n, or attempt to 
 lie tempest. My 
 iture, I ventured 
 countering innu- 
 it, I wa« obliged 
 him to leap over 
 'r under them in 
 in by the broken 
 3oome desperate, 
 nt of what I had 
 t there had been 
 gh in the stretsts 
 had fallen in a 
 
 stating effect of 
 luntry after its 
 , had been ovei- 
 3erson informed 
 ►y the gust to a 
 id a cow lodged 
 
 'j I have my.self 
 >f romance, but 
 -niagewas done 
 desolate place, 
 kly entangled 
 •ees, and is the 
 ake themselves 
 )mmitted their 
 ng district. I 
 iance of a hun- 
 
 271 
 
 hm\y. I observed Ce „ I ""' '" •''" *'« "^ '^''i"- 
 tl'« mountains eon ^d , M.T''n "" t """""'' "' 
 Pennsylvania, three Tnnl • ,^™"^ ^""' J"™'"' °f 
 
 -t to have exceeded a quarW TX ' Si! " "■« 
 
 John James Audubon. 
 
 Require the punU 1 7h 
 
 ■'.''"«i«« of each paragraph It ^^^^^^^ 
 
 "'''de whiht reading U : i~.Ib'r.Inr \'"'''' ^^' i'^premon 
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 1- ^y^2"T'' T ^^"^^"^ ^«-n to rest 
 
 With foUed J:^mZuT :f "^^"' 
 
 Columb™ sat; ill s„dden T ^^ *" "^P'^^''' 
 A rn»- ^f „i J suaden hope was « von • 
 
 St ^^""^ '""""""S fro™ the wit 
 (So legends tefe^^^^^^." »d si . 
 
 '"' ^ ""* "'"^'^ ^P-8 "P. -d bfoo^id'srw 
 
 f I' 
 
 ji 
 
 • ^1 
 
272 
 
 aiOHER IlEADKK. 
 
 2. He WH« a man wlioni clangor could not daunt, 
 Nor sophistry perplex, nor pain «ubdue: 
 
 y?' "^^^^ "** ^^" ^^*'*'* ^« *«nnt, 
 And Bteelled the path of honor to pur«uo. 
 fcH», when by all de-serted, still he knew 
 How bent to soothe the heart Hick, or confront 
 Sodifon ; Hchoolerl with equal eye to view 
 
 But when he Haw that promised land arise 
 m all Its rare and bright varieties 
 
 Lovelier than fondest fancy ever tro(i, 
 Iheii softening nature melted in hin eyes • 
 
 He knew his fame was full, and blessed'his God ; 
 And fell upon h.s face, and kissed the virgin sod. 
 
 3. Beautiful realm beyond, the western main, 
 
 Ihat hymns thee ever with resounding wave, 
 Thine 18 the glorious sun's peculiar reign I 
 
 Thy paths : hke giant altars o'er the plain 
 
 Of mthTf '"'' ^Ir ^?"^ '^""^^^^•"^'' '-i^l^he rave 
 Of mighty streams, that shoreward rush amain, 
 
 Like Polyphemus «» from his Etnean cave. 
 Joy, joy for Spain ! a seaman's hand confers 
 These glorious gifts, and half the world is hers f 
 
 But where is he-that light whose radiance glows 
 The load-star ot succeeding mariners 9 ^ 
 
 Behold him ! crushed beneath o'ermasterin.. woes- 
 Hopeless, heart-broken, chained, abandoned to\is foos ! 
 
 Sir Aubrey de Vere. 
 Jiequire thepupilL-To write a literary anah^sis ; 2.- 7b 
 
 enyimn 
 
PIIOVIDENCE. 
 
 hiMnrical uUaaions ■ [i^Tn • 
 
 f , 
 
 sterintr woes — 
 
 PROVIDENOE. 
 
 i^or heealamitioHofmortuiife 
 JixistH, one onlx' . ' 
 
 0*' aught unworfL-J '^"^^ ^^^'^^ 
 
 Restore their UnlT ^ ^ '^^^ ^^ ^^''^rt : 
 
 r^tf 
 
274 
 
 manKn rkaper. 
 
 I i 
 
 Hiiinaii and r.itioiml, ivpoit of Tlwc 
 
 Kven loMH tluu. t\u..?-n. ,n„to, who will, who .nn 
 
 Yot will r ,,ra.s., Thoo with ini|«.xsio,H..l voico 
 
 My li|)H, that inight forgot Then in tho crow.l ' 
 
 Cannot forgot Thoo here,-whero Thou ha«t built 
 
 ^or thy own glory, in tho wiMornoHH! 
 
 Mo (iirl'st thou constituto a priest of tliin.-, 
 
 In Huch a toniplo an wu now behol.l 
 
 Eoarod for thy presence : therefor, am I bound 
 
 10 worship, here, and (Everywhere, as o.ie 
 
 Not dooin'd to ignoran,..>, thougli forced to tread 
 
 From childhood up the ways of poverty ; 
 
 From unref1e(iting ignorance preserved, ' 
 
 riie particle divine remain'd unquench'd • 
 
 And 'mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil, 
 
 Ihy bounty (>aused to flourish, deathless flowers 
 
 ^ rom paradise transplanted. Wintry age 
 
 Impends : the frost will gather round my heart; 
 
 And,if they wither, I am worse than dead I 
 
 Come Labox, when the worn-out frame requires 
 Perpetual Sabbath ;--co,ne disease, and want 
 And sad exclusion through decay of sense ;— ' 
 But leave me unabated trust in Thee— 
 And let thy favor to the end of life 
 Inspire me witlx ability to seek 
 Repase and hope among eternal things,— 
 Father of heaven and earth! and I am 'rich 
 And will possess my portion in content I 
 
 And what are things eternal ? Powers depart 
 Possessions vanish, and opinions change ' 
 
 And pa-ssions hold a fluctuating seat.- ' 
 But by the stomas of circumstance unshaken 
 
THB FALL OF QRASAda. 
 
 m 
 
 276 
 
 And «uhject ..either to ecli|,«e nor wave 
 
 what more that ..lay .lot horisl, 9 ti i . 
 
 Tf"' "'"'«,»«''» »fl-i..g fill thdr pi J' 
 
 AWe our human r„Ki„„ or 1k,|„w, ' 
 
 o"t and mwtaiiuHl ■ Tl]r>ii wl.,. rj . 
 
 Ofinfaaeyarou„.;,.,S"itr;'"^^^^ 
 ^r™,";"''^ ""'^ """I'&ity a while 
 
 WntuH daily, to the powers of s^«e' 
 A.id reji«on'8 8teudtu«t rule— Tho., TJ . 
 Art everlasting ! -^^^^"» Thou alo..e 
 
 William Worthsioot'th. 
 Jiequire the puml 1 _ yj. ,„., , ,., 
 >n..t sHki., verL ; sJifZnt'"'^ """■'''' ' --^'' ^^ ^^^ 
 
 '- ?! 
 
 .\H. 
 
 !% 
 
 THE FALL OF GRANADA. 
 
 household of Boabdil were vol ^"'■"'''"■''' '«• the 
 
 won of that aMe All le 'rZ^'' '° "" " '^' ^^^ 
 _• .„ "^" "*6 ™yal trea-mii-Ps qp^j ^_-. 
 
276 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 i' :i 
 
 i i i 
 
 apartments were despoiled, with tears and waiiings, by 
 their own inhabitants. Before the dawn ofday, a mournful 
 cavalcade moved out of a postern gate of Alhambra, and 
 departed through one of the most retired quarters of the 
 city, which was yet buried in sleep. The guards at the gate 
 shed tears, as they opened it for their departure. 
 
 In the Christian camp, a proclamation had been made 
 that Granada was to be surrendered on the following day, 
 and the troops were all ordered to assemble at an early 
 hour under their several banners. The cavaliers, pages, 
 and esquires were all charged to array themselves in the 
 richest and most spleijidid style for the occasion. 
 
 The rising sun had scarce shed its rosy beams upon the 
 snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada, when the Christian 
 army poured out of the city, or rather cimp of Santa Fe, 
 advanced across the Vega, { nd paused at the village of Ar- 
 milla, half a league from the city. 
 
 The grand cardinal of Spain, Don Pedro Gonzalez de 
 Mendoza, escorted by three thousand foot and a troop of 
 cavalry, and accompanied by a number of prelates and 
 hidalgos, crossed the Xenel and proceeded in the advance 
 to ascend to the Alhambra and take possession of that 
 royal palace and fortress. 
 
 At the approach of this detachment, the Moorish king, 
 Boabdil, sallied forth from a postern gate of the Alhambra, 
 having left his vizier, Yusef, to deliver up the place. He 
 was accompanied by fifty cavaliers, and approached the 
 grand cardinal on foot. Tiie latter immediately alighted, 
 and advanced to meet him with the utmost respect. . They 
 stepped aside a few paces, and held a brief consultation in 
 an undertone, when Boal)dil, raising his voice, exclaimed : 
 
THE FALL OF GRANADA. o.^ 
 
 "Go ■ 
 
 Catholic «overdg„r '^ ■»™™f"llyou to meet tht 
 
 thrown wide open by Ab!n P ' *'""' "' "'»''•■'' ^-^r^ 
 Moorish guards vie dej^".h " ' *' '"-^ «™^ time the 
 battlements wei tkl '^ *''™' """* ""= towers and 
 
 troo,.,. '" '^''"^'' P'*'^^"'" of by the Christian 
 
 While these transactions were na«sin„ tl, 
 remained with their retinue JIJ!^ ^' f '"^^^g"" 
 appointed sig„.l of possliof IT 1^'*"' '" ^ 
 sdver cross, the great standard „f7i ^ *">' "aw the 
 the Torre de la let Id , r ""■"•■™'a'l«. elevated on 
 -- done by Sant TtT'"""'™''''^''-- This 
 Beside it wa^VnteTle ioltr' ^''°'' "'■ ^*- 
 St. James, and a great sirunf^a^H^ 7T ^^''^'' 
 rose throughout the armv T !, ^'"'"^fc"'' Santiago ! " 
 
 standard by the kinlTr™ I T """"'"^ «>« ""yal 
 Castile ! " """ CkICpZ ^ "" '^'"'' "^ " Castile ! 
 The words were ech^d b^ rt"'*f ."""^ *^'''^™ I^''* ' " 
 tions that resound «ro^ t tt "™^' "'"• -'-'- 
 
 '"'0 the solemn .nthem o^-rBer/aSi'^''^'-'' 
 
 M 
 
5 IM 
 
 i 
 
 ■ • S,' 
 
 I 
 
 ■Mi 
 
 i278 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 The king now advanced with a splendid escort, and, not 
 far from the foot of the Hill of Martyrs, ho beheld the un 
 fortunate king of Granada approaching on horseback, at 
 the head of his slender retinue. Boabdil, a? he drew near, 
 made a movement to dismount, but Ferdinand prevented 
 him. He then leaned forward and kissed the king's right 
 arm ; at the same time he delivered the keys of the city, 
 with an air of mingled melancholy and resignation. 
 
 " These keys," said he, " are the last relics of the Ara- 
 bian Empire in Spain. Thine, king, are our trophies, 
 our kingdom, and our person. Such is the will of God ! 
 Keceive them with t\ye clemency thou hast promised, and 
 which we look for at thy hands." 
 
 King Ferdinand restrained his exultation beneath an 
 air of serene magnanimity. " Doubt not our promise," 
 replied he, " nor that thou shalt regain, from our friend- 
 ship, the prosperity of which the fortune of war has depriv- 
 ed thee." 
 
 Being informed that the good count Tendilla was to be 
 governor of the city, Boabdil <l:-ew from his finger a goM 
 ring set with a precious stone, and presented it to the 
 count. " With this ring, " said he, " Granada has been 
 governed ; take it and govern with it, and God make you 
 more fortur ";te than I have been." 
 
 He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where the 
 queen, Isabella, remained with her escort and attendants. 
 The queen, like her husband, declined all act of homagi^ 
 and received him with her accustomed grace and benig- 
 nity. She at the same time delivered to him his son, 
 who had been held as a hostage for the fulfillment of the 
 
THE FALL OP GRANADA. 279 
 
 each other ty ^1-2,^ """-"y -"'beared to 
 
 the Christians into his ZtVw!" "f ^'''''-''oe of 
 aliers followed him i'^ T ^ ''''™'*'' ''»<> »' <»v- 
 
 bu-.t from the... tomVi,:'^;;:; 'r '"""^ "^""^ 
 
 ".nphant m«sic were Wne t b^^^J^*-- "^ 'H. 
 lous army. "reeze trom the victor- 
 
 emfnUroo2rdi„t?h:T';'^ '"^;"«^'' --""ed » 
 -rived at thinpot the l^T "'"^ "' '^™"^- ^^ 'hey 
 take a farewell Ce at t"^. r^f '''^'''"terily t^ 
 -eps more wonldTutt ^^Thet'^lt' "''"'l'"' 
 W .t appeared so lovely i„ the^r eZ U '"■• ..^^^^*- 
 bnght in that transparent elimlte Tnn VT"""'' '" 
 mmaret, and rested gloriously ut,™ th '^ ^ ■''*''■ ""'" 
 mentsofthe Alhambra; STeV ""'°"T^ '"'"'''- 
 elled bosom of verdure bX! I . ?^ 'P'"^ ''^ «'"»"'- 
 windings of the Xene Th°M^ ^^"""« *'* *« «"^-°r 
 
 citadel, and prt entt f ! , ''"'^' '"^* fr<»» the 
 m thlt the ; wl'^take'r^:' """"f- *""«y ''-''. 
 of the Moslem ^r^^tt'^r "'' *"' ""^ ""-o- 
 
 oii'luLS^Sd'^r ^^ -'*'- and over- 
 
 «.on J,ea on h,s lips, and he bum into'tea^ '"*"" 
 
 ( t 
 
 4 < I 
 
280 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 His mother was indignant at his weakness. - Yoirdo 
 well «aid Bhe "t6 weep like a woman for what you 
 tailed to defend like a man ! " 
 
 The vizier endeavored to console his royal master. 
 
 Consider Senor," said he, "that the most signal mis- 
 fortunes often render men as renowned as the most pros- 
 perous .hievements, provided they sustain them with 
 magnanimity. " 
 
 The unhappy monarch, however, w^s not to be consoled • 
 his tears continued to flow. " Allah Achbar ! " exclaimed 
 ne ; When did misfortunes ever equal mine ? " 
 
 From this circumstance, the hill, which is not far from 
 Mul, took the name of Feg Allah Achbar; but the point 
 of view commanding the last prospect of Granada is known 
 
 Moorr'^^^ ^^ ^^^ """""^ ""^ " ^^' ^^^ "^^ «/ i^^^' 
 
 Washington Irvirtg. 
 
 Spam; 2.-T0 state the year of the Fall of Granada; Z -To aire 
 smi^rdeahaw Golumbus was received' at Annilla and its result.- 
 ^.-.To explain all historical and geographical aUumr^- ^-To 
 
 tr TT. f '^' *f ''^^' ^-^^ ^^'' ^^ impression of the 
 style ; 7.— id state some facts concerning the author. 
 
 We rise by things that are under our feet ; 
 By what we have mastered of good a. -! gain • 
 By the pride deposed and the passion slain, 
 
 And the vannninlipd ilk *h"i w l--«-.i j. t ^ ^^ ^- 
 
 - ^ a ..!H . n„t wc huurly meet.— J: Q. Holhwd 
 
J. O. Hoihiml 
 
 DEBATR OF THE SENSES. 
 
 DEBATE OP THE SENSES. 
 
 281 
 
 of Psyche, the i::.t^:^2t'^:^':r'^ri *" '~^^"- 
 
 surface of the lake- tl.« . ";«*'»" M cleared and curled the 
 
 trumpet i„ the TkL thtfi 'T t '"'' '"""''«' ^fa »maU 
 from the boBom Th'e !l!^ -'nbrasiaLsi^hw^^ breathed 
 
 some means of mCr^hTJ'^^V''^'" *° ^'^^^ 
 affectiom. '^ " *"' ^"'^ *'™'' ^he felt in her 
 
 A long and boisterous debate ensued Tl,„ « 
 were heard first, aU assured her that „„ T '*'' ^'•° 
 genee depended that felirit, 7 T'\ , *'"'"' °*" '"'^ul- 
 pointed i the risk^ *„ Id t'"'' *' '°"«'^<'- S«h' 
 which was now ful^y rv^fea in t ""^'T' '^"''^-P^' 
 en light, and bade her „ '^r J. t T "^'"' °"''^8°''*- 
 I*e that did not bestowT- . , "PP'""''' 'f ««"><'« 
 
 cloud objured the p^ J 'j,^ T" ""^''o '- «Poke, a 
 
 with a smile, that, Iho;^.';^ut1'r"!, *''"'*"''' 
 *rve to increiwe her gratitude t^ . ""*' "''g''t 
 
 to Misty her thirst for an t ^ TT '" ** "•'"'«'»* 
 H«.ri„g directed er at::iot LT'"f. "'' ^^y™-'- 
 »Kl>ird; but he, too c^t^ u, *" ™''"'r^ """»°™- 
 founded thepromiser F^ "d^^' T^ "'^-^ "°»- 
 to her bower, to chose the ! K ffo T *" '^ '^'"'' 
 to aroid the pains of exertion LTT P'"°"' ""'^ 
 
 ««cl cold. 8mel! offeM ^,1 , "f ;-''"''''"^'' "^ ''^''t 
 blo,.ted and voIa„tno'L J IT ■ f'"''' '^'^ '^'^'^' ^ 
 
 tony the happiness to which she 
 
 to seeJc in glut- 
 was destined. But Psy, 
 
 ' ' f 
 
 
 I 1 
 
282 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 li 
 
 Che, though she acknowledged with gratitude the service.s 
 of each, was yet constrained to a<lnnt that, whether singly 
 or united, they were wholly unable to ^onfer upon her ail 
 the fehcity which she felt herself ck, le of enjoyin<. 
 You, said she to Feeling, " who counsel me to be con- 
 tent with consulting my ease ; you, likewise, who would 
 have me feed for ever on scented airs; and you, who 
 think that I could be content with perpetual feasting, ar. 
 all alike mistaken. My consti^.ution and my destiny aiv 
 not like those of your disciples, the sloth, the cameleon 
 and the cormorant ; I feel within me a mysterious longinjj' 
 which can not be gratified by aught that earth has yet pre- 
 sented to my view, an4 I am satisfied that the Almighty 
 has not implanted that desire within my heart without i 
 motive." 
 
 Here she looked toward Judgment, who merely af- 
 forded her a calm assent. But Psyche, languishing for 
 some more inventive counsellor, waved her hand to Ima- 
 gination who had been awaiting with impatience the sum- 
 mons of her mistress, and tne termination of the precedin.r 
 disquisition. " 
 
 The bright-eyed enthusiast sprang from her seat of 
 roses at the signal, and shook, as she hurried through tlie 
 group her airy robes, which were dyed with colors more 
 bright than those which glitter on the scales of an expir- 
 ing dolphin. ^ 
 
 Gerald Griffin, 
 
 ^'?nirethepupU l._7b explain the meaning of the tide; 2.-To 
 ZH ^^:>;*^.^--- ^-To shoro one sense is the co^nplement of 
 the other ; 4.- ^ vruhcate the afreet of the persoru/icati<»/i, Ms ' 
 
 IS A'f- 
 
THE TRAVEL LEB. 
 
 283 
 
 lect' K 
 
 THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 ^T^l "f ™'«J«3. melancholy, slow 
 Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wand ri„g\. 
 
 Agamst the houseless strange.^ shuts his door 
 Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies 
 A weary waste, expanding to the skii^' 
 Where er I roam, whatever realms Jl;e 
 
 Laugh at the jests or prangs that never fail 
 Or sigh With pity at some mournful Je ' 
 Or Dress the bashful stranger to hfe''' 
 
 - stranger 
 
 And learn the luxury of doin^ .or 
 iiut me, not destined such de'^ts 
 
 food, 
 
 food. 
 
 f ' 
 
 
 to share,- 
 
284 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 My prime of life in wandering spent and care ; 
 
 My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, 
 
 And find no spot of all the world my own. 
 
 E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, 
 
 I sit me down, a pensive hour to spend ; 
 
 And, placed on high, above the storm's career. 
 
 Look downward where a hundred realms ai)pear. 
 
 Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, 
 
 The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. 
 
 When thus creation's charms around combine. 
 
 Amidst the store, ^hould thankless pride repine ? 
 
 Say, should the philosophic mind disdain 
 
 That good, which makes each huml^ler bosom 
 
 Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can. 
 
 These little things are great to little man ; 
 
 And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind 
 
 Exults in all the good of all mankind. 
 
 Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendor crown'd ; 
 
 Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round ; 
 
 Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale : 
 
 Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale ; 
 
 For me your tributory stores combine ; 
 
 Creation's heir, the wo-ld, the world is mine ; 
 
 As some lone miser, visiting his store, 
 
 Bends of his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er. 
 
 Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, 
 
 Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still ; 
 
 Thus, to my breast, alternate passions rise. 
 
 Pleased with each good that Heaven to man supplies ; 
 
 Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall. 
 
 To see the hoard of human bliss so small : 
 
 And oit i wiSn amidst the scene to find 
 
JTWENDSHIP.— r. 
 
 Some 8|K,t to real happi„«« comig„ed ■ 
 
 Tl e huddenng tenaut of the frigid ^ 
 B% proclaim, that luppie^t^otrown. 
 
 A^,dh.s o„g eights of revelry a,i:ie:i.. 
 ihe nake,l negro, pa„ti„g at the liue. 
 
 B««ta of h« golden sands a,.d palmy wine 
 
 nrst, best country, ever is at home. 
 
 Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 Mequire tJie pun'd \ Tjj » • 
 
 the author. ^""'' ' ^ -^0 n^ntxon something concernino 
 
 285 
 
 ,' *4j 
 
 i\\ 
 
 
 ^"RIENDSHIP.—I 
 
 The philosopher has said, " Friendshm • 
 
286 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 obliged to pause and consider the transient ways of friend- 
 slii])? TluH volatile .igont is rather subtle and unstable. 
 The poet truthfully says : 
 
 " Many men I blush to toll, 
 
 A friendship oft profess 
 When one is rich, l)ut fall away 
 When one is in distress," — Casey. 
 Friendship is indeed ea.sily created ; but the difficulty 
 consists in sustaining it. Man's nature is indubitaMy 
 that of mutability, and hence it is that we hear of the fre- 
 quent agonies of disappointed friends. The truth of this 
 a.ssertion is readily recognized in the proverb that " Pro 
 mises may get friends,' but it is performance that koens 
 them." * 
 
 The duties of friendship are not at all so easy as many 
 imagine. Some of our bitterest griefs and severest caii- 
 terings are those which it inflicts. What anxiety of mind, and 
 how seemingly inexplical^le are those closely woven threads 
 which encompass our path, making life weary, and th(^ 
 burden hardly bearable ! Then, again, those cunning and 
 incisive wounds inflictoi on the heart by friends, whicli, 
 above all other punishments, seem unparallelel, and fre- 
 quently sever rudely every vestige of amicable feeling. 
 N^iy, more, death has resulted by loosening the ties of 
 friendship which has served to keep friends in our favor. 
 To the cynic these considerations are as the transitory 
 nebulae. Though by precept and example he teaches con- 
 tempt for such various feelings which he is pleased to desig- 
 nate by the term human weakness, yet even he can not 
 rid himself of these ties ; even he is bound to bend his 
 and feel sensible of the burnings of oitendc.'d 
 
 stoical head 
 
I'EIESDSHir. I. 
 
 287 
 
 friendshij. The l.oart which, apparently, i, p,,„f „™i,„. 
 Mauissopecuharly constituted that ho can not exist 
 
 .:::^a;rti;ronr;;r 
 
 -u^e..^h.e:^:::;^^:X-:c't^ 
 
 and no confidence witliout integrity." """encs. 
 
 History, tliat record of human eventn whether it A. 
 -on e, the action of the ,™,,i.„, the con^: d b tMdl 
 or the advancement ofart and literature, is replete wkh 
 -mplos of real and feigned friendsh p. m^wr, U 
 ha eonriuered the great and noble C.esaf? wl il no 
 that he whom he loved as a secW self Brulu w 
 
 among the conspirators'? And thou fl » , , ,' ^'^ 
 in tlifi b.,1? ,.t ti -D ' ' "'"' ^''Ulusl vibrated 
 
 two nedu.!. Oaesars was true huf +l,..f ,.^-D ^ , 
 
 treacherous. ' ''* ^^ ^''''*^ l^^"«^ed 
 
 How slender are the threads which bind itliow fracHl. 
 
 fer enumeratmg those of true friendship. Al ow 1 1 
 fecnbe such examples, which will take away in parul^ 
 
 bamona„d-pytlia:rB~:ttrShef;^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
28g 
 
 KWHER RKADER. 
 
 Wmmi'^ aiul BiHhoi) FiHher; f^idiwk Tich>)ourno a.i.l 
 Anthony nabington ; HolvutiuH and Sauriii. Tho latter 
 beautifully said on tlie death of hia friend ; 
 
 " In misery's haiuit.H thy friend thy bounties Boize. 
 
 And give an ui-gont life Home d iv3 of oaw : 
 Ah 1 ye vain griefs, 8U|)erflu(»u8 team I chide 1 
 
 I live, alas ! I live—and thou hast died ! " 
 
 Authors were desirous to bestow upon their friends h 
 lasting mark, and on that account, entitled some of their 
 literary pro< tactions by the name of some cherislied com- 
 panion. Thus we have Cicero giving the title Brutus t-) 
 his Treatise on Orators, and to that of Old Age, Cato • 
 the poet TasHo to his dialogue on Frienship gave the nani.i 
 name of Manso; Plato has left his DiaLigues to his 
 friends: the one on Lying, Hip])i,\,i; on Rhetoric, Gor- 
 gias; and, on Beauty, Phnedrus. . 
 
 As our happiness and prosperity are dependent on 
 friendship, it behooves us to seek such friends as are con- 
 genial, and having found them to cling to them, nay, giv.; 
 our life if that is required. They are of very great ser\ - 
 ice to us, and we to them, if we prove ourselves true and 
 constant. We must, no doubt, endure and suffer many 
 things, and this endurance, often a necessity, becau so ^t 
 needs be tested, and these' tests will serve to rendrr ii 
 pure, strong and incontrovertible. 
 
 " Thv virtues, friend, have stood the test of fortune. 
 
 Like purest gold, that tortured in tho furnace. 
 Comes <t more bright, and brings forth all its weight." 
 
 Addiaona' Cato. 
 
 How m«riy is- u itbrtuna.- being was rescued from utter 
 rnin. and degardation beciuiHo. of tho generously extended 
 
 <^ 
 
FRlKNIxSHir.— I. - 2g^ 
 
 hiiiui of a (lour frionH f rr 
 
 !•■ vo y,.„ „„t e^p,:rionc.,,l it„ offcctTi , ! *' ""^'"'"' ' 
 ""■•I'meu to an i„ti,„ato Irion,! ^ a ^, ''"""'""' '"" 
 
 '"» your mind, coloring you.- vivS '°.'"''""'°"»' '••'•owcl- 
 '"8 your pa«aio„8, bc^^C of ?*"""'""' '""' ««"'- 
 
 'vhore exited but in^ir r T'l "•■""«" *'"^'' "o- 
 wlu.t w.« it but tl e X r 'f '""' "«''«'^d ">""C 
 preaaion« of trne and J"'"'''' '""' ''''"oratod ox 
 
 tl- gonial Lv t JdiZT-/"""''"''' "'"'-* '-"Sht 
 
 painful dark„;jt, ;: jririr''^''^'''"^ '•'« 
 
 cesso, of your „l«Kji„g Lart ? """""™' ^«- 
 
 of«:\rri:ftrrp:r::?r'' — - 
 
 ;-_^^cWuU„da.ab,eTrd:!;- 
 
 "^&di?d'e;!rrt--,'^o».Hts 
 
 Jiequire the pupU l.— lh tvrifP n /./ 
 
 ^ll 
 
 II 
 
1 1 
 
 ii 
 
 f ! ; ; H 
 
 I i y 
 
 290 
 
 Higher reader. 
 
 REASON BUT AN END TO PATTH. 
 
 Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars 
 
 To lonely, weary, wandering travellers, 
 
 Is Reason to the soul : and, as on high. 
 
 Those rolling fires discover but the sky, 
 
 Not light us here ; so Reason's glimmering ray 
 
 But guide us upward to a better day. 
 
 And as those nightly tapers disappear, 
 
 When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere ; 
 
 So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight ; 
 
 So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light. 
 
 Some few whose lamps shone brighter, have been led 
 
 From cause to cause, to nature's secret head ; 
 
 And found that one first principle must be : 
 
 But what, or who, that universal Ho ; 
 
 Whether some soul encompassing this ball. 
 
 Unmade, unmoved ; yet making, moving all • 
 
 Or various atoms' interfering dance 
 
 Leaped into form, the noble work of chance ; 
 
 Or this great all Avas from eternity ; 
 
 Not e'en the Stagirite himself could see ; 
 
 And Epicurus guessed as well as he : 
 
 And blindly groped they for a future state ; 
 
 As rashly judged of providence and fate : 
 
 But least of all could their endeavors find 
 
 What most concerned the good of human kind : 
 
 For happiness was never to be found ; 
 
 But vanished from 'em like enchanted ground. 
 
 One thought Content the good to be enjoj-ed : 
 
 This every little accident destrm'-ed : 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF LITERATURE. 
 
 The Wiser n^^en did for Virtue toil : 
 A thorny, or at best a barren soil • 
 
 And leaky vesseb which no bliss could keen '^ ' 
 Thus anx.o„s thoughts i„ endless ci^ L Z' 
 
 In tr ^r*'' "^^''^ ^ fi^ the soul : ' 
 In this w,ld maze their vain endeavors end • 
 How can the less the greater comprerendl ' 
 Or finite reaaon reach Infinity ? ^ ^"''■ 
 For what could fathom God were more than He. 
 
 Seligio Laid .—John Drydm. 
 
 291 
 
 Sequin Ou pupil 1 -_7b ,„.:!. „ j; 
 out and e^plclL figuZ 8 " '*™7,/'^3'« : 2.-7I, point 
 To nou mm, verses ZJlaUeJo^K '*^'"-~'>'«' ^^o ; 4.- 
 
 THE mPOBTANOE OF UTERATOBK. 
 
 wnt'bli'otStord""''^' '^ -hich a speaker or 
 floient for hf audionrnf' T'""!"' ^'' '""'J'^«'' ^d -*- 
 Presshim/ LUer 2 h *'""'«'>'•' "'''^h im- 
 
 and teachings of Cr;t:ha"""'l" ""^ ^""■'<'-»'°- 
 «entatives of their Si ^d^ r'^"" "^ ''*"'' ^' ''^P^^- 
 'iad an interprltltio of th '^ ^ords their brethren 
 
 .■7ownso^r:;it:rn;r:r'e~^°^ 
 
 -'J a suggestion for their own judgmems. '■'*'"'"^™'^' 
 
 "t^ 
 
292 
 
 iriOHER READER. 
 
 ■E 
 
 A great author is not one who merely has a cmna ver- 
 borum, whether in prose or verse, and can, a^ it were 
 turn on at his will any number of spendid phrases and 
 swelling sentences ; bnt he is one who has something to 
 say, and knows how to say it. He is master of the thought 
 and the word, distinct, but inseparable from each other 
 iie may, if so be, elaborate his compositions, or he may 
 pour out his improvisations ; but in either case he ha^ but 
 one aim, which he keeps steadily before him, and is con- 
 scientious and single-minded in fulfilling. That aim is to 
 give forth what he has within him ; and from his very 
 earnestness it comes to pass that, whatever be the splen- 
 dor of his diction, or the harmony of his periods, he has 
 with him the charm of an incommunicable simplicity 
 Whatever be his subject, high or low, he treate it suitably 
 and tor his own sake. 
 
 He writes passionately, because he feels keenly • forci- 
 bly, because he conceives vividly ; he sees too clearly to 
 be vague ; he is too serious to be otiose ; he can analyze 
 his subject, and therefore he is rich ; he embraces it L a 
 whole and in its parts, and therefore he is consistent • he 
 has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is luminous. When 
 his imagination wells up, it overflows in ornament ; when 
 his heart is touched, it thrills along his verse. He always 
 has the right word for the right idea, and never a word 
 too much. If he is brief, it is because few words sufiice • 
 and when he is lavish of them, still each word has its 
 mark, and aids, not embarrasses, the vigorous march of 
 his elocution. He expresses what all feel, but all can not 
 say ; and his sayings pass into proverbs among his people, 
 
 1. An abundance, or great Bupply of words. 
 
THE 
 
 WPOSTANOE OP LITESATUKE. 
 
 293 
 
 menteof his language aaw't 1^"'* """-ichfrag- 
 mento of modern places. ^ *" **"« »<> Pave- 
 
 r l^pre'^eSt' Virlif tt'"^;'^ among o,melvea ; 
 
 their degree, are all 'tha::tr.«who° "'"'■ ""''' '" 
 ?» by the name of Chasic, T. . ' ,'" ""^"y »•''*»>>. 
 are necessarily attached from ffP*'"''™''"' "ations they 
 
 nety of tongue, and the Z,l arit '^7*"." "'*« ^- 
 they have a catholic and ^P™""*"*'''^ "f each ; but so far 
 
 f 7 express is tLmonTtTe' ."?""'*^' «'^' ^^^ 
 they alone are able to Txpre^ t '''"' "''"*"' """1 
 
 ph.losophers even, consTderTd tot ^"^"^^ ''' ''^ "-4 
 "ne; if, by mean of worrL se ^'f^ ^''°'-' "^ ^t- 
 brought to light, painlf soul t T"". °^ "'^ ^'^' «e 
 »™ed oif, sympaVlveved <^ f ■ '"''''«" «™f '« 
 -ce recorded, Ld lisdoLSp^S Tk*^' ^^P^"" 
 the many are drawn un into ,!T ' '^' ^y ™'hors, 
 
 fixed, a people speaks the n T^'. "'"°"'' ^''"^'^^ ^ 
 audtheUare^roUt iC "' "'^ '■""«' «« «-* 
 other; if such men Je Z" "Tf '*''°" "«' ''ach 
 Propheta of the human flmlr:';,*'" ^P^^™- »<! 
 %ht of literature, or to S > fV'"' "™^^ '" ""^^^ 
 ,^;;«- that, in P^opol: ttrCto'r^ if'"' T "^^ 
 
 -.-hetheym4:;;rrtry::!if;„--:: 
 
 in 
 
294 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 the more distinguished walks of life — who are united to 
 us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal 
 influence. ■ 
 
 John Henry, Chrdirwl Newman. 
 
 I 
 Require the jnipil \.— To answer all historical allusions ; 2.— To 
 note the principal facts ; 3. — To give a synapsis of each paragraph ; 
 i.--To define tioelve difficult words; b.—To iell what he knows 
 concerning the author. 
 
 I- 
 
 THE CAPTURE OP QUEBEC. 
 
 The closing scene' of French dominion in Canada was 
 marked by circumstances of deep and peculiar interest. 
 The pages of romance can furnish no more striking epi- 
 sode than the battle of Quebec. The skill and daring 
 of the plan which brought on the combat, and the success 
 and fortune of its execution, are unparalleled. A broad, 
 open plain, offering no advantages to either party, was the 
 field of fight. The contending armies were nearly equal 
 in military strength, if not in numbers. The chiefs of 
 both were already men of honorable fame. 
 
 France trusted firmly in the wise and chivalrous Mont- 
 calm. England trusted hopefully in the young and heroic 
 Wolfe. The magnificent stronghold which was staked 
 upon the issue of the strife, stood close at hand. For 
 miles and miles around, the prospect extended over as lair 
 M£iu era cTCi icjOivica wxc signv (ji man — mouutam and 
 
I are united to 
 of our personal 
 
 I Newman. 
 
 llusiotis ; 2. — To 
 'ach paragraph ; 
 what he knows 
 
 30. 
 
 Canada was 
 iliar interest, 
 striking epi- 
 i and daring 
 d the success 
 i. A broad, 
 •arty, was the 
 nearly equal 
 'he chiefs of 
 
 ilrous Mont- 
 ig and heroic 
 was staked 
 hand. For 
 I over as fair 
 ountain and 
 
 THE CAPTURE OP QUEBEC. 295 
 
 valley, forest and waters, city and solit „^« 
 getherinforn^sofalWideaUeautr ' ^""''' *"■ 
 
 M tnt ^tt Tl ''''' ^^'^ !.f ^ --- - the 
 
 Great preparations were made throughout th« fl.«f a 
 the army for the decisive movement bnf^t i ^""^ 
 all kept secret. movement, but the plans were 
 
 At nine o'clock at night onthp l^ih «^q ^ , 
 the first division of the amv 1 fim f ^^^^^^^^^er, 1759, 
 
 scarcely stirred the waters with^hL oa^ ■ 2" T'^ 
 aatmot bnless Not n w^^j . ' ™ soldiers 
 
 general. He as a IT ^""'tfen, save by the young 
 
 ward relatS 'rTp^^Sd tTr"" '^''' "'"^'^ •'-'-f^- 
 
 1- side, this s:z^fCr7n::;'^\f^' .°«-- "^ 
 
 try Church-yard : " ^ ^"*'«° '" » Coun- 
 
 " And*" J5 W ^'^''''■y' *'"* P"™? of power 
 
 A .e?° t? '■'f •»*»ty. all that Ieal4 e^oJWve 
 
 ^woii, alike the inevitable hour ■— " ^ave, 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave " 
 
 f'tt 
 
 I I 
 
 
!■ 
 
 ilil 
 
 ' J- ) 1 1 1 j tt 
 
 296 
 
 HIGHER READEK. 
 
 As he concluded the beautiful verso,,, he said, "Now 
 
 But while Wolfe thus gave vent to the intensity of his 
 fee..-g .„ the,poet;B words, his eye was constantly bent 
 up - the dark outl.ne of the heights under which he was 
 
 Some of the leading boate, conveymgthe light company 
 o^the seventy eighth Highlanders, had, in the meantime! 
 been earned about two hundreds yards lower down b^ 
 the strength o the tid.. These Highlanders, under Cap"^ 
 tam MacDonald were the first to land. Immediate y 
 over their heads hung a woody precipice, without path or 
 traok upon ,t, rocky face. On the summit, a French sen- 
 tmel marched t«and fro, still unconscions of their presence. 
 Without a moment's hesitation, MacDonald and his men 
 d^^hed at the height. They scumbled up, holding on by 
 rooks a^d branches of trees, guided only by stars thai 
 shone over the top of the cliff. Half of the ^«co„t Z 
 already won when for the fi,.t time, Qui vive? broke 
 he sdence of the mght. La France, answered the High- 
 land captaan, with ready «elf-posse.,sion, and the sentry 
 shouldered his musket and pursued his round. 
 
 In a few minute.,, however, the rustling of the tree, 
 close at hand alarmed the French guard. They hastily 
 toned out, fired one irregular volley down the precipici, 
 ^d fled in a panic. The captain, alone, though wounded 
 stood his ground. When summoned to siLnder, he 
 fired at one of the assailants, but was instantly overww- 
 
 y ^, . -' — ""*^ "louwiuy overpow- 
 
 in ihe meantiiue, nearly hundred men landed and 
 
THE CAPIUEE OF QUEBEC. 297 
 
 post at the top~;XwiTr,? °^ *« ■"*^™*'^<i 
 the accent of Larmy^"*'' "^'"^ ^°'f<^ ''«! selected for 
 
 re-e„foreeme„Lt fc shti T.^'^^' ''?"' ^'^^ ^^ 
 down with the tide tat^'/""* '"^ ""^ "'■'o floated 
 em Wkation. The battTn" f "". °^^''' '^' "' ^^ 
 at the foot of the wind" pa h™? ™ ^^ "^™" ''^-h 
 
 ptL:^---.ae^i=r;°Sr^- 
 
 the teble-Iand aw7 ^ir^'^^r^ » fi™ a™y upon 
 could be carried up thehiran^ ^T" «""' '""'*<'™^' 
 in P<«itio„ without'iltdM:;™ *»' *" ""' P'-^ 
 
 Ieffh™X"irr ttL"""*^',? ^ «^"-'^'- '' -- ^«" 
 tie wa« atea.,;:;]; f - ;^ '- His order of bat- 
 center column in person Hi??!' , ? "'"""^nded the 
 ?,520, besides IndCs \v^^ . ^""^ ™8*8«J *«« 
 4,828 of all ranks b"r ''"'"'^ ™'y * ^rce of 
 
 Tb„ P T "^ """ ^^ * *™"ed soldier 
 
 by 's^r of tS/1'- ^ ^P'^'f advance made 
 b-ken lines, was t't";!!"" " "l^^^' " '"* """ 
 
 " murderous and inoesS Z K ^ tf P*'*'""' S""" 
 «.n J-. . , „. , incessant toe began. The Briti-b +-,- 
 
 Wolfe was struck in the wrist i "''*'='' *'°"™ 
 
 '% 
 
 1? f 
 
 abled; 
 
 was not die- 
 

 
 1 
 
 m ' 
 
 
 H 
 
 i, 
 
 '■i 
 
 j'H 
 
 B ^' ' ^ 
 
 > . W^'i 
 
 1 ^Hl 
 
 1 ¥m • ' 
 
 ^■jl^HM 
 
 ' f ' ■' 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 lil 
 
 ■■■! t 
 
 1 
 
 1 1! 1 
 
 if; 
 
 i 
 
 298 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Wrapping a handkerchief around the wound, he hast- 
 ened from one rank to another; exhorting the men to 
 steady and to reserve their fire. No English soldier 
 pulled a trigger : with matehless endurance they sus- 
 tained the trial. Not a company wavered ; their arms 
 shouldered as if on parade, and motionless, save when 
 they closed up the ghastly gaps, they waited the word of 
 command. 
 
 When the head of the French attack had reached within 
 forty yards, Wolfe gave the order : " Fire. " At once the 
 long row of muskets was leveled, and a volley, distinct as 
 a single shot, flashed from the British line. For a mo- 
 ment the advancing colums still pressed on, shivering like 
 pennons in the fatal storm ; but a few paces told how ter- 
 rible had been the force of the long-suspended blow. 
 
 Montealm commanded the attack in person. Not fif- 
 teen minutes had elapsed since he had first moved on his 
 line of battle, and already all was lost ! But the gallant 
 Frenchman, though ruined, was not dismayed. He rode 
 through the broken ranks, cheered. them with his voice, 
 encouraged them by his dauntless bearing, and, aided by 
 a small redoubt, even succeeded in once again presenting 
 a front to his enemy. 
 
 Meanwhile Wolfe's troops had reloaded. He seized the 
 opportunity of the hesitation in the hostile ranks, and or- 
 dered the whole British line to advance. At first they 
 moved forward with majestic regularity, receiving and 
 paying back with deadly interest the volleys of the French; 
 but soon the ardor of the soldiers broke through the re- 
 straints of discipline— they increased their pace to a run, 
 
THE, CAPTURE OP QUEBEC. 299 
 
 Wolfe was soon wounded in the bodv • hnf h. 
 ha sufferinff for hi. ,. i ""^^ ' ^"^ ne concealed 
 
 enUly observed. ' ""^ '"""'""' " *»« »»' «en- 
 
 " Support me," said he to a crenadior „« i_ ^ 
 
 c.c«eathand nhat., bravtT^tU^Tottr 
 fall. In a few seconds, however he sunk tl T ,' 
 
 and was borne a little to the re» '*' «™""'* 
 
 The brief struggle fell heavily uDon the Rri,- u u 
 was ruinous to the French The,, *''^^""«''' b"' 
 
 carnage ; the columns ^'h 2l ZT T'T ^^ 
 ^oon broken and scattered 2Z^ tZ "'" 
 
 that rose above the wreck of ),ol n 7 ^ " '"'^'^ 
 groups of his stubZ vtte^^'«;Kn''''T\'''^ 
 ^gain. the enemy, and ^.ZZZ": .''LT^'^^t ■ 
 Alls efforts were vain TK^ i, j i- *v^"t ui oauie. 
 
 -ptawa,befo;:it'JSi niZ^ ^Tf" """ 
 While the British troops were carrv.n., oil k .- 
 
 :."eto-t-^s-L"i-f--^^^ 
 
 the death-mj: ^ ' Xd tl ^ht iTg^^-UTe 
 !:t!7«-T' '°d "T""^- "^^ '^^ bact and" ' 
 
 I I 
 
 i 
 
 il 
 
 "« 
 
300 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 • n 
 
 IL 
 
 Meantime the French had given way, and were flyin. 
 in a 1 directions. A grenadier officer seeing this, called 
 out to those around him, "See! they run!" The words 
 caught the ear of the dying man. He raised himself, like 
 one aroused from sleep, and eagerly asked, "Who run ?" 
 The enemy sir, ' answered the officer; " they give wav 
 everywhere. ® -^ 
 
 " Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," said Wolfe; " tell 
 him t^ march Webbe's regiment with all speed down to 
 the St. Charles River, to cut off the retreat. " His voice 
 grew faint as he spoke, and he turned on his side, as if 
 seekmg an easier position. When he had given this last 
 order, his eyes closed in death. 
 
 Wolfe's body was embalmed, and borne to the river for 
 conveyance to England. The army escorted it in solemn 
 state to the bea^h. They mourned their young generals 
 death as smcerely a.s they had followed him in battle lov- 
 ingly. 
 
 William Warburton. 
 
 siofs'T t r'' M -'^ """'T ^^'^^-^^'•-^ -nd historical allu- 
 stom, ^—^ give the spnopm of each paragraph; 3.- To note the 
 most spirited arul striking sentences; i.-Tb give an idea ofZohT 
 acter of Montcalm and Wolfe; ^.~To definTtLZ:^' n^^t 
 y^have seen m th. previous lessons; ^.-Toyive a n^ti^ofthe Z 
 
 n-"! 
 
tid were flying 
 ing this, called 
 I ! " The words 
 ed him><elf, like; 
 , "Who run?" 
 they give way 
 
 i Wolfe ; " tell 
 ipeed down to 
 His voice 
 I his side, as if 
 jiven this last 
 
 ► the river for 
 d it in solemn 
 ung general's 
 n battle lov- 
 
 Varburton. 
 
 ■ historical allu- 
 3. — To note the 
 dea of the char- 
 ds he may not 
 otion of the au- 
 
 A SCENE FROM TELL 392 
 
 A SOENEi PROM TELL. 
 
 -Enter 6'amem with soldiers bearing, r.oj > 
 
 ^•mr the pole. """^""^ ' ""' 9uard, Hation themselves 
 
 Samem. Ye men of Altorfi 
 
 Behold the emblem of your master's power 
 Anddigmty. This « the eap of 6e,,ler 
 your governor ; let all bow down to it ' 
 Who owe him lovo and loyalty. To such 
 As shall refuse this lawful homage or 
 
 Accord it sullenly, he shows no grace, 
 Bn dooms them to the penalty of bondage 
 Til they are instructed ; 'tis no less their gain 
 Than duty, to obey their master's mandate 
 Conduct the people hither, one by one 
 io bow to Gesler's cap. 
 TeU. Have I my hearing? 
 
 ''""tC;.'*''^ 0^,,,,, hats, arul W,^ ,, «,. 
 
 Vemer. Away! Away! 
 
 T: Or sight? They do it. Vomer! 
 
 I nT '^°, ''-Zi^^ '-^'''^ "^ ■»« ■»» again > 
 1 11 herd with baser animals I rA.« keep 
 Iheir station. ^ 
 
 V. Conie away, before they mark us. 
 ^- iNo! no! since I have taatfid 
 
 I will e'en t^te on. I begin, methinks, to like it. 
 
302 
 
 HIOHER READER. 
 
 11 
 
 [Pierre pan^c'^ the cap, miUea, and bows alyjhlhj.] 
 S. What smiled you at ? 
 Pierre. You hjiw I bowed tw low as lio did. 
 'S'. Nay, but you smiled. How dared you smile ? 
 T. Good ! good ! 
 
 8. (Sinking him.) Take tlut ; remember, when you 
 smile again, 
 To do it in season. 
 V. (Takes hold of Tell's arm.) Come away. 
 T. Not yet — not yet. 
 
 Why would you have me quit the fea.st ? methinks 
 
 It grows richer and richer ! 
 S. (Striking another blow.) Bow lower, slave ! 
 T. Do you feel 
 
 That blow ? My flesh doth tingle with it. Well done ' 
 How pleasantly the knave doth lay it on ! 
 Well done I well done ! I would it had been I ! 
 V. You tremble, William. Come, you must not stay. 
 T. Why not ? What harm is there ? I tell thee, Verner, 
 I know no difference 'twixt enduring wrong 
 And living in the fear of it. I do wear 
 The tyrant's fetters when it only wants 
 His nod to put them on; and bear his stripes 
 When that I suffer them he needs but hold 
 His finger up. Verner, you are not tlio man 
 To be content because a villain's mood 
 
 Forbears? You aie right— you are right ! Have with 
 you, Verner. 
 
 [Unter Michael through the crowd.] 
 S. Bow, slave. (Tell stops and turns.) 
 
 ■»#■• 1 t -wr, „y, +9 / /■ 1 V 
 
 riiclx ; \^JUU,ugrtS.) 
 
 Michael. For 
 
t! Have Willi 
 
 S. 
 
 M. 
 
 T. 
 
 S. 
 
 M. 
 
 S. 
 
 M. 
 
 A SCENE FROM TELL. 
 
 T. 
 
 s. 
 
 If. 
 
 T. 
 
 S. 
 
 T, 
 S. 
 M. 
 T. 
 
 V. 
 
 T. 
 
 M. 
 
 Obey, and question then. 
 
 imr„T;::„::r"''''"^'''''«-'''-obey. 
 
 Amun! I say, a man! 
 
 1 do. 
 
 Once for all, bow to that cap. 
 
 V erner, let go my arm I 
 
 I>o you hear me, slave ? 
 
 Slave f 
 
 Let me go ! 
 
 He is not worth it, Tell • 
 
 Awi!clandildeg;ila„t'„fthetown. 
 
 ViUam, bow to Gesler's cap 
 
 No! not to Gesler's cap. 
 
 {Bushing forward.) Off off vnn v. 
 
 pack! ' ' ^°" ^"^^ and hireling 
 
 Lay not your brutal tr^n^b ,,»..^ .i.- ., • 
 «^n.adei„H.o.„i-:'-;thy:L.v., 
 
 303 
 
 r^w 
 
 ,t'i 
 
I ' i 
 
 £ 
 
 m 
 
 304 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 'T iy your vocation, wliich you should not call 
 On freeborn men to share with you, who stand 
 Erect, except in presence of their God alone ! 
 
 S. What ! Shrink you, cowards ? Must I do 
 Your duty for you ? 
 
 T. Let them but stir ! I have scattered 
 
 A flock of hungry wolves outnumbering them — 
 For sport I did it. Sport ! — I scattered them 
 With but a staff not half so thick as this. 
 
 [ Wrests Sarnem's weapon from him. Sarnem and sol- 
 diers fly. "[ 
 
 What ! Ha ! Beset by hares ! Ye men of Altorf, 
 What fear ye ? See what things you fear — the shows 
 And surfaces of men ! Why stand you wondering ther^' ? 
 Why look you on a man that's like yourselves, 
 And see him to the deeds yourselves might do, 
 And act them not ? Or know you not yourselves 
 That ye are men ? — that ye have hearts and thouglits 
 To feel and think the deeds of men, and hands 
 To do them ? Fear you God, and fear you him 
 Who fears not God, but in his sight, defies him ? 
 You hunt the chamois, and have seen him take 
 The precipice, before he'd yield the freedom 
 His Maker gave him ; and you are content 
 To live in bonds, that have a thought of freedom, 
 Which Heaven ne'er gave the little chamois. 
 Why gaze you still with blanched cheeks upon me ? 
 Lack you the manhood even to look on, 
 And see deeds achieved by others' hands ? 
 Or doth that cap still hold you thralls to fear? 
 x5e iree, tiien ; xiiere : iiiuo uo j. trample on 
 
irnem and sol- 
 
 SCENE FROM WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 J 'm 
 
 305 
 « iS^'l<^!,mtering^m soldiers.) Seize him I 
 
 r. Haf it:rrr^' ^^-««^^«...,,.i 
 
 -K Stand! I'll back thee' 
 V. Madman ! Hence ! (Mrces Michael of) 
 «U„o„h™, slaves. Upon him all at ofce I 
 
 6.-7b mention mnetUng of the muhor. ' ^ " '^'''^'^ ' 
 
 SCENE PROM WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 ^.oj-. ■ • "'^'^''^' «"^V°N QUE8TEJ.BERG, Imperial 
 
 UAX. Ha ! there he is hinmplf w i 
 
 , '"™^^"- Welcome my father ' 
 
 [J^e embraces his father A<>1.* 
 
 t^jaoner. As heturiuround 
 
 ^^^'^ « <^o/rf awo? resen^pA ni^ 1 
 iott am engaged, I see. FU „„t dist^b yon. 
 
 
 isii 
 
306 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 (* 
 
 Oct. How, Max ? Look closer at this visitor, 
 Attention, Max, an old friend merits — rev'rence 
 Belongs of right to the envoy of your sov'reign. 
 
 Max. [drill/.'] Von Questenberg ! — Welcome— if you 
 bring with you 
 Aught good to our headquarters. 
 
 Ques. [Seizing his hand.] Nay, draw not 
 
 Your hand away, Count Piccolomini 1 
 Not on mine own account alone I seized it, 
 And nothing common will I say therewith. 
 
 [Taking the hands of both. 
 Octavio— Max. Piccolomini 
 
 savior names, and of happy omen ! 
 
 Ne'er will her prosperous Genius turn from Austria, 
 While two such stars, with blessed influences 
 Beaming protection, shine above her hosts. 
 
 Max. Heh ! — Noble minister ! You miss your part. 
 You came not here to act a panegyric. 
 You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us, 
 
 1 must not be before hand with my comrades. 
 
 Oct. [To Max.]. He comes from court, where people 
 are not quite 
 So well contented with the duke, as here. 
 
 Max. What now have they contrived to find out in him? 
 That he alone determines for himself 
 What he himself alone doth understand ? 
 Well, therein he does right, and will persist in't. 
 Heaven never meant him for that passive thing 
 That can be struck and hammered out to suit 
 Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance 
 To everv tune of everv ministpr. 
 
itor, 
 
 rence 
 
 )igR. 
 
 jlcome — if you 
 
 draw not 
 
 mda of both. 
 
 Austria, 
 
 your part. 
 Id us, 
 
 where people 
 
 d out in him? 
 
 in't. 
 ing ^ 
 
 t 
 
 SCENE FROM WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 It goe« against his nature-he can't do it. 
 
 307 
 
 TT . - — "«,;uic — im can t do i 
 
 He 18 pressed by a commanding spirit 
 
 ^""/•r^ 'he station of command' 
 
 Tew fit to rule themselves, bnt few that u«e 
 T^' r mtellects intellige„tly._The„ 
 
 ^?^w^^:^:;^'^Sm, 
 
 Wher better suit, the court-kooth. 
 But such a one as he can serve the army 
 Qm,. The army ? Doubtless r 
 
 Onin. there you'll makeXJ^ '''« ""«-'— 
 
 They call a sniHt ■■„ j , , " ""^"' Actress 
 
 ^ cdu a spirit up, and when he comes 
 
 Straight their flesh creeps and quiveTatd M« . . . ■ 
 
 More than the ilk for which ly^^lt^''''^ ''"" 
 
 Th uncommon, the sublime, must seem aiTbe 
 
 L.ke hmgs of every day.-But in the fidd 
 
 Tl.e person must command, the actual eye ' 
 Wine. If to l« the chieftain asks ^ 
 A I that IS great in nature, let it be 
 
 Likewise his privilege to move and act 
 
 I^n all the correspondencies of greatness. 
 "'" o'-aoie wuhiu him, that which Hak, 
 
 !' ■ 
 
 1 I 
 
 j^SL, I 
 
 ■ • If 
 
308 
 
 HIGHER, READER. 
 
 Il 
 
 It! 
 
 hi, ; Ml' 
 
 tip> 
 
 ; 1: 
 
 hi 
 
 
 He must invoke and question— not dead books, 
 Nor ordinances, not mold-rolled papers. 
 
 Oct. My son ! of those old narrow ordinances 
 Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights 
 Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind 
 Tied to the volatile will of their oppressoi-s. 
 For always formidable was the league 
 And partnership of free power with free will. 
 The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, 
 Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goes 
 The lightnnig's path, and straight the fearful path • 
 Of thv. cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid, 
 Shattering that it may reach, aud shatt'ring what it reaches. 
 Lly son ! the road the human being travels, 
 That on which Blessing comes and goes, doth follow 
 The river's course, the valley's playful windings. 
 Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, 
 Honoring the holy bounds of property ! 
 And thus secure, though late, leads to its end. 
 
 Ques. Oh hear your father, noble youth ! hear him, 
 "Who is at once the hero and the man. 
 
 Oct. My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee ' 
 A war of fifteen years 
 Hath been thy education and thy school. 
 Peace hast thou never witnessed ! There exist.< 
 A higher than the warrior's excellence. 
 In war itself, war is no ultimate purpose. 
 The vast and sudden deeds of violence, 
 Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment. 
 These are not they, my son, that generate 
 The calm, the blissful, and th' endurinc? miti-htv I 
 
)oke in tUoe '. 
 
 SCENE FKOM WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 309 
 
 RnHH V ■■ r ,*''" ""*""•' "-^Pid architect ! 
 ^^wbd'''^''* *""""'"*--'-<'«» once 
 
 fl^ia2:K.:i'£— '■ 
 f^r:l^J*£r;'■"-'-" 
 Ti.e meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie. 
 And the year's harvest is gone utterly 
 
 For the first .icletoAhelt^Xtr-^^' 
 2. P "t T ' "^'^^ " ™^- *■•- <"' 't once ^ 
 
 F4^!:r:r:oLr;^^--^^^^^^^^ 
 
 It glimmers still before me like som. ,' /'^*'^' 
 Left in ih^ A- * ' ®^"^^ landscape 
 
 i^ett m the distance-some delicious landscape f 
 My road conducted me through countries Xe 
 The war has not yet reached Life life mv fl!h 
 % venerable father, life has charms ' ' ''''"- 
 Which ?i;e have ne'er experienced W^^. ' v 
 But voyag,„g along its LZtJ. '"" '"" 
 L.fce some p«,r, ever-roaming horde of pirates 
 
 That, crowded in the rank and narrow 2p 
 House on the wild sea with wild usages *' 
 
 wLe":a'/'''^ ">-'»<>. baltL bays 
 wnere sAtehest they may venture a tl,i»„»'. L.:, 
 
 vvnateer in th' inland dales the land coneeajl"' 
 
 "In 
 
 ¥ ! 
 
 IMil 
 
310 
 
 ^IIOHER READER. 
 
 Of fair and exquisite, oh ! nothing, nothing, 
 Do we behold of that in our rude voyage. 
 
 Oct. {Attentive, with an appearance of uneadness.] 
 And so your journey has revealed this to you ? 
 
 3fax. 'Twas the first leisure of my life. Oh! tell me, 
 What is the need and purpose of the toil, 
 The linful toil, which robbed me of my youth, 
 Left me a heart unsouled and solitary, 
 A spirit uninformed, unornamented. 
 For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum, 
 The neighing war-horse, the air-shatt'ring trumpet, 
 The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty, 
 Word of command, anfl exercise of arms— 
 There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this 
 To satisfy the heart, the grasping heart ! 
 Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not— 
 This can not be the sole felicity. 
 This can not be man's best and only pleasure ! 
 
 Oct. Much hast thou learned, my son, in this short 
 journey. 
 
 Max. Oh! day thrice lovely ! when at length the soldier 
 Returns home into life, when he becomes 
 A fellow-man among his fellow-men. 
 The colors are unfurled, the cavalcade 
 Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark ! 
 Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home! 
 The caps and helmets are all garlanded 
 With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields. 
 The city gates fly open of themselves. 
 They neetl no longer the petard to tear them. 
 The ramparts ar^ all i\]\e>A wj+T, ro«». jv^j 
 
Oh! that you 
 
 SCENE FROM WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 Jiisses and welcommgs up^n the air, 
 
 ;^rom all the towers rings out the merry peal, 
 
 1 ^e joyous vespers of a bloody day. 
 
 Oh ! happy man, oh, fortunate I for whom 
 
 Th! r^f-.^f''"/^""'' '^'' ^"^^^^"1 ^™« are open, 
 The faithful tender arms with mute embracing. 
 
 Ques. [Appa, itly much affected] 
 speak 
 
 Of such a distant, distant time, and not 
 Ut the to-morrow, not of this to-day. 
 
 Max. [Turnim, round to hm, quick and vehement] 
 Where lies thefault but on you in Vienna ? 
 1 will deal openly with you, Questenberg. 
 
 Just now, a. first I saw you standing here, . 
 (1 11 own It to you freely) indignation 
 
 Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together 
 Tis ye that hinder peace, ye /-and the°warr^r, 
 It IS the warrior that must force it from you 
 Ye fret the general'^ life out, blacken him, ' 
 Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knows 
 
 Id trtTf " T'' ^'^"'^ ^" ^P^^'^« *^^ Saxons, 
 And tries to awaken confidence in th' enemy • 
 
 Which yet's the only way to peace : for it 
 
 War intermit not during war, how then 
 
 J-ven as 1 love what s virtuous, hat I you 
 
 And here make I this vow, here pledge mv«e]f " 
 
 My blood shall spurt out for this WaUenstein ' 
 
 311 
 
 :h 
 
 PWf 'A 
 
 ""1 ' 
 
 , hi 
 
 ,! t'i 
 
312 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 And my heart drain off drop by drop ere ye 
 Shall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin. [Uxit. 
 
 SchUler : Colerige'a Translation. 
 Require the jn^pU l.-To point out ten figures ; 2.~To note Ave 
 remarkahle verses ; ^.-To tell the principaLhamcters aTaifea 
 descrrp,onofthesameasyleanedfro.n the scene; T-Tolanthe 
 lasl ten hues ; 6.-T0 explain the geographical allu^ns 
 
 <■» I 
 
 t".! 
 
 PADLUS LEPIDUS ON MOUNT OLIVET.' 
 
 It was early morning, in the thirty-second year of the 
 Chrmtmn era, when a handsome, soldier-like, and majestic 
 man^ wearmg the costume of a Roman legaUi,, or genentl 
 Stood on Mount Olivet, southeast-by-e^st of' Jer'usalem 
 He was lookmg west. The Syrian sun had dimbed out of 
 
 W a?i T ''■"^'^^'^^ '"'■». ^"-l it fl»ng his taJl shadow 
 level and far over the scanty herbage among the numerous 
 sad-colored twigs of the olive-shrub. Oppiite, just beZ 
 him, across the deep ravine of the Kedron brook, better 
 known by the awful name attached to that with which it 
 b e„^; TheJehoshaphat Vale," shone the fie^ ^fdo 
 rf Gods temple Its glorious eastern front, here milk- 
 white with marble there breast-plated with gold, its pin- 
 nacles of gold Its half-Greek, half-Roman architecture ca- 
 priciously and fancifully varied by the ornate genius of the 
 
 Slby™""""""""'"'*"""""^'"'" <"«"'« «l.»'l» no..),.. Dim .„d Ihc 
 
I?ion and tho. 
 
 ■ PAULUa LEPIDUS ON MOUNT OLIVET. 3iS 
 
 ^^», wtie or a character to ariv^f fli« i.^.>.<^ • -^ 
 
 second temnle—how inC / ,_ ^ "^ ^'^ *>"' '•>« 
 
 ^^^ cniple how mfenor to, how different from, the 
 
 ^ion, the .t, !, Sd,rw^h^xTt7r r 
 
 trarch, encompaaaed by the manions of HeS:f noblL '" 
 
 ehllfeml foZ' 'Vt;" "'°"8''' ^""'^' "aftersomany 
 Ae mrd^I ''' '?''!"8 '^°™ "^"" *''« mostbeautifuf 
 
 1 Rome th, *' "k^ *.' "* '"^^^-^ "f «««'' ■' To 
 see «ome thus may be the lot of an eagle a« it soars over 
 
 -it,, the whitelir' Ah stZe ciirr "w"".' ""^ 
 Mount of Zion ! wondmusHill of M* . f^ Wondrous 
 pie I Nnt t^„ ""7™"s Hill of Moriah ! wonderfu tem- 
 
 -of thfeotttlTm f-P'T "■•»■' V-'-." orof Janus,« 
 wi ui WHS or that monster or hero hut T^^».u .1 
 
 God I TAe Temple of GorJ 7 wi \ ^ \ '^^ *^^^' ^^ 
 havef Wl ^^^'^P''^ % l^^"^ -' What a sound the words 
 nave! What a sound Homer's TUari ss <• , 
 
 norti r T IV'^' ■■«'«'; y^der, beyond the waU 
 
 Z!V .'^'''•T'''; « 8"«" ' This, too, is tlu ' 
 
 I 
 
 time, the day, the hour, to which they 
 
 IS the age, the 
 all point, when the 
 
314 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 
 ItULlJl 
 
 God of wliom they speak, and of whom the Sibyl also 
 sang, is to come down into a visibly ruined and corrupted 
 world, and to perform that which to do is in itself surely 
 God-like. ^ 
 
 " But one thing is dark even in the glooms of mystery. 
 How can a God suffer ?— be thwarted, be overcome, at 
 least apparently so, by his own creatures, and these the 
 very worst of them ? What can these cries of grief and 
 horror which the prophets utter mean ? " 
 
 As Paulus thus mused, half-pronouncing now and then 
 in words the thoughts, which we spare to record, some 
 one passed him, going down the Mount of Olives, and in 
 passing looked at him ; arid until Paulus died he never 
 ceased to see that glance, and in dying he saw it yet, and 
 with a smile thanked his Maker that he saw it ihen also 
 — especially then. 
 
 The person who thus passed our hero was more than six 
 feet in height. He was fair in complexion. His hair was 
 light auburn, and large locks of it fell with a natural 
 wave and return upon his neck. His head was bare. 
 His dress wa.s the long flowing robe of the Jews, girdled 
 at the waist, and, as Paulus afterward fancied, the color 
 of it was red. He was in the bloom of life. Our hero 
 could see, as this person passed, that he was the very per- 
 fection of health, beauty, vigor, elegance, and of all the 
 faculties of physical humanity ; and even the odd, and 
 strange, and wild, and somewhat mysterious thought 
 flashed through Paulus's mind : 
 
 " My God," thought he, " if there was now an Adam to 
 be oreatf^d, to be the natural, or rather the supernatural, 
 
PArrLUL LEPWVS OV MOUNT OLIVET. 31.5 
 
 J<ing of tJieluiman ra-o would not 1.;. 
 the most ,l«li,.„te fe , '^ *7''' ''••'™ »«™ wan, o„ly that 
 
 »<i free from aH \^ Ll t- ^'''^'■'''■ 'i" ''■""■"' 
 grave ; and, when l,i. mi™ wen ij 'r.f ™' ''' 
 -pon the things that were aroriiM^ ^'"^\ '° '"""^ 
 the face and L glance ' " *''' ""*'"« I"" 
 
 thamistrti;ra:r:r''""'*:^ 
 
 — and even XTr^:;:,^ -;«- "^ «>e 
 who never could have l«n.,i,.^ ^ ^^*^' ^^'^ ^no 
 
 Bailed. But no smuHa^L^' " 'J'*^"'^ ."-' -- 
 
 Paulas remembered anoThe^elTl ^ '^™"'^- "^""^ 
 ed circumstance ; .t wTtli, tT ^^^ "■"" ""P"^"""'" 
 »nt eyes were s Mol t r tTlT. '"^' ''"^ ^^'S" 
 -roely hold in an equa del' I' T^' ^'^ '""'^ 
 them except that wh^h shonf 12 :^^rZr'"" ''" 
 to Paulus a celestial and divine InstT r '*^"""' 
 
 «d, next, unconqueraWo, Id elTt i J,7»' '"'' '°^^' 
 <^^onrage. As thoiif.li f>,. everlasting, and victorious 
 
 I'ut hLf^m LTrLln J:^ Y°* *" ''" *'"<^'' »"« 
 accomplish : a dr^f^rw f '^^ «' ''"o-n-could ever 
 "hamefandinpJrtndinr ' ' T^^ "»»I«akable in 
 indispensable. 17^^^^/-'..^^. ^«*^ ™* »t-ly 
 
 -"--hat had ever W-^STertdte^re: 
 
 
 '"H 
 
 a Mi 
 
 •J ski 
 
31 r, 
 
 HIOHEU IlKADKI!. 
 
 I' ; 
 
 'i I 
 
 or hero of tluH talo, PauluH, wonrWed how in the same 
 look and eyen, and in a single glance of them, two thingH 
 so opposite as ineffable terror and yet God-like, adorabh' 
 courage, could he combined. 
 
 But, nevertheless, they were both there ; and with this 
 mighty and mysterious mental combination, Paulus also 
 saw a sweetness so inexpressibly awful that, at once (and 
 as if he had hoard words formed within his own heart), 
 the reflection arose within him: "How much moreterribh^ 
 would be the wrath of the lamb than the rage of the lion !" 
 
 And the figure of this person passed onward, and was 
 hidden from poor Pavilus beyond the olive groves. 
 
 Our hero sat down on a jutting stone, half covered with 
 herbage, and fell into a vague and somewhat sorrowful 
 meditation. " Poor Longinus ! " said he to himself ; " it 
 is really the queerest and most provoking thing in the 
 world that perhaps the honestest, bravest, simplest, best 
 fellow I ever knew 
 
 " But these thoughts are useless; I must fnltill Dionysius' 
 commission, and write to him to say wliethe I have been 
 able to discover in this mysterious land the presence, tlu^ 
 memory, or so much as the expectation of any person 
 whose name corresponds with that spelt out in the acrostic 
 ofErythrsea, the Sibyl." 
 
 A rustle of the olives near him caused him to turn liis 
 hejod, and who, of all men in the world, .should bo at lii^ 
 side but Longinus the centurion ! 
 
 " "Why, " cried Paulus, " I thought you were at Rome! " 
 
 " I have just arrived, my tribune, " returned the hvnxe 
 
 man, ■ witn oraers to report ruvself to Pontius Pilate, the 
 
Profiirator of Jiuloa nr fK n 
 
 "'.V t'-ibu,,,, h.„ hoeu ol ed ;,"■'""• " ^™ '""-• 
 "tatioiwfl. '• ^ '" ("eww, „n,I i„ ,1,,.,.,. 
 
 " Well," ,,ai.| Paiilus "r i i- , 
 
 •>«»i». How i„ Tli,,llu« '?" 'M'Klit«.l to meet you 
 
 ■; «-i I "o..e„.™edP„r ,";""" ;"""''"^^'-" 
 
 «'«!> other, a„,l t,.Ik of old day;." '""" "" '"''*" «<"' 
 
 '"--^^MolZortSlf "'"''^''■''' *'"'^ '"*"■ '^ 
 yo.uS;SS""^'"^^^'^""' -^ongin^,.^ 
 
 "oiwhtheCi' ''°'*""" ^---^ «-vely; .-But J k„„„ 
 
 o"e,ZK:!a,„:"{;-.V«"--ntheval,ev 
 f'.r from the Gdden Uat 7^?' ""'■"' "' Olives, not 
 youth, with rich feirl«,k"*,! '""'P'"'/ ""«' '-autiful 
 R'ulus h^l iu„t .seen-„i;rrh:m "™""'~'''^'' '"'" "'"'"' 
 
 " Friends, " quoth the straneer ■' 1, 
 ""'-^^ "™»«'l-" from them; of oi:;/™ ^"" "'" 
 
 tl'« per«,„ who ha,l looked Itl.m ' '"'*'' 
 
 v 
 
 That is he " ani/^ +u^ i,, ..^ , 
 
 way was he going ? 
 
 youth. "Pray, which 
 
 li 
 
 if 
 
 "H. 
 
 •■■rm-f-H 
 
318 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 Paulus told him, and the other, after thanking him, was 
 moving swiftly away when Paulus cried after him : 
 
 " Stay one moment," said he. "What is the name of 
 him you call the Master? " 
 
 " Know you not ? " replied the youth, with a smile. 
 " Why, you are, I now observe your dress, a Koman. His 
 name is lesoics." 
 
 " What ! " cried Paulus. " Then it is a reality. There 
 is some one of this name that has appeared in this land ! 
 I will, this very day, send off a letter to Dionysius at 
 Athens. And pray, fair youth, what is your name ? " 
 
 "Ah!" returned the other, "I am nobody ; but they 
 call me John. " Yet," added he.^ " I ought not liglitlv 
 to name such a name, for the greatest and holiest of mere 
 men, now a prisoner of Herod's, is likewise called John ; 
 I mean John the Baptist, John the Prophet ; yea more 
 than a prophet ; ' John the Angel of God '." 
 
 " I am," returned Paulus, " invited to a great entertain- 
 ment at Herod's palace, this evening. Tell me, why is 
 John the Prophet a prisoner at Herod's ? " 
 
 Because he went on God's errant to Herod, to rebuke 
 him for his incestuous marriage." 
 
 With this the youth went his way, and Paulus and 
 Longinus went theirs. 
 
 Miles Gerald Keon. 
 
is the name of 
 
 let : vea more 
 
 ST. THOMAS OF CANTEKBURY. 319 
 
 ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 anls.^ •' -"°"""" ' Il«»'E'i. » nun ; and aUend. 
 
 BECKET. [Standing apart from 'the rest.-] 
 
 The n,gh comes swiftly like a hunteU man 
 
 Who cloab h« sin. The sea grows bla«fc beneath it • - 
 
 There s not a crest that thnnders on these sanl ' 
 
 But sounds some seaman's knell 
 
 The wan spume racing o'er the death-hued waters 
 
 This way and that way writhe., a bickering iTp 
 
 ^ many wmds as waves o'er-ru,h the deep 
 
 Warnng hke fiends whose life is hate. Alt r 
 
 For him the ship-boy, on the drowning dect 'r 
 
 aeart-sickness and the weariness of life 
 
 He never felt : he knew nor sin nor sorrow.- 
 
 Not hus I hoped to fa*e my native land. 
 
 What meam this sinking strange ? TiU now my woi^t 
 
 Was when I saw my sister in her shroud. ^ 
 
 Death, when it comes, will not be stern as this: 
 
 !leath ,s the least of that which lies before me 
 
 Th.8 IS mme hour of darknes, and ill powers 
 
 Usurp upon my manlier faculties, 
 
 Which in the void within me faint an.l fail 
 
 Like ston^ that loosen in some high-built ;rch 
 
 Whereof the key-st«ne crnmblos- 
 
 I can not stamp my foot upon the earth 
 
 tI':^*!':':™'^?-.^'™^. !^y "ope tm now . ' 
 --Ml onsc„.„ „,u unimagmeU bourne 
 
 Beyond the mfinitudes of measureless distanc^e 
 
 ''1 ' 
 
320 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Ha8t Thou withdrawn Thyself? This, this remains ; 
 Seeing no more God's glory on my path, 
 To tread it still as blindfold innocence 
 Walks 'twixt the burning shares. 
 
 John of Balishury. [Joinitig Becket.] 
 Beware, my lord ! He would have you there . 
 Who drave you thence long since. 
 
 ^^'^keU Our ends are diverse ; 
 
 Not less my way may lie with his. 
 
 John. How far? 
 
 Becket. It may be to my church of Canterbury ; 
 It may be to the northern transept there ; 
 It may be to that site I honored ever, 
 The altar of St. Benedict ; thus far 
 Our paths may blend — then part. 
 
 '^^^^- Go not to England ! 
 
 I mingled with the sailors of yon ship : 
 
 Their captain signed to me : then, with both hands 
 Laid on my shoulder, and wide, staring eyes, 
 Thus whispered :— " Lost! undone ! Seek ye 'your deaths? 
 All men may land in England— none return." 
 
 Becket. Behold, I give you warning in good time, 
 Lest anger one day pass the bounds of truth : 
 King Henry never schemed to shed my blood : 
 Dungeons low-vaulted, and a life-long chain- 
 That was the royal dream. Eeturn, my friend ; 
 You know your task. [John of Salisbury departs. 
 
 Thank God, that cloud al)ove my spirit clears ! 
 Danger, when near, hath still a trumpets sound: 
 It may be that I havo nut lived in vain : 
 
remains ; 
 
 re . 
 
 iire diverse ; 
 
 rbury ; 
 
 England ! 
 . hands 
 
 your deaths? 
 
 )) 
 
 )d time, 
 
 nd; 
 
 try depart. 
 
 3! 
 
 md: 
 
 ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 321 
 
 Close aath\ b!::^™*:'::^!!!!''^-^'' h™ round, 
 
 AremhopofSen,. [arriving.] My lord Gn) 
 £echi. One ti„d ant „ ^ ' "' ^™ 7°" 
 
 % brother, and^' td ^"rr """t*" ^''>^ *--«"• 
 And choke my heart W '^'^ '''^'' ''«='' 
 I am a «hade «X Z" f "" '"<' ^^ ^-P-g- 
 That house so long Z]^^ "-""•- »'- ". ' 
 
 Archbishop. m 
 
 Ha« had you fov . - . -^^^^ see of gens 
 
 SccJcct 
 Not earth alon^ tl, * i ^^ '°'^' '" heaven. 
 Bear ba k t^V^^^l' ^'-" •=« -"embered. ' 
 
 That great and jo^t cSl '"' f ""'' '^'"«' 
 Who keeps in age his voulh ? *""'""*"• 
 
 -h^£i?;--?"^^" 
 -a..m.C---;-er^^^^ 
 
 ^Slhim^'T"^"-''"^^-'— 
 Farewell , ^"" "*> '''"^ ^* i-^-fe- God rules o'er aU. 
 
 ^M*^^^. Good friend, and gracious lord, farewe,,, 
 
 \.^^P0,rt8,with attendayits. 
 
 if 
 
 f8il 
 
322 
 
 HIGHLR READER. 
 
 Herbert f Bosham. As good to go to heaven by sea as 
 Sail we, my lord, this evening? [land 
 
 Becket. Herbert, Herbert ! 
 
 Before thou hast trod in England forty days, 
 All that thou hast right gladly wouldst thou give 
 To stand where now we stand. What sable shape 
 Is that which sits on yonder rock alone. 
 Nor heeds the wild sea-spray ? 
 
 Herbert. My lord, Idonea ; 
 
 She, too, makes way to England, and desires 
 Humbly your Grace's audience. 
 
 Becket. Lead her hither. 
 
 ^ \^Herbert departs. 
 
 Herbert and John — both gone — how few are like them ! 
 
 God made me rich in friends. In Herbert still. 
 
 So holy and so infant-like his soul, 
 
 I found a mountain-spring of Christian love 
 
 Upbursting through the rock of fixed resolve-^ 
 
 A spring of healing strength ; in John, a mind 
 
 That, keener than diplomatists of kings. 
 
 Was crafty only 'gainst the wiles of craft. 
 
 And, and stored with this world's wisdom, scorned to r. j i . 
 
 Except for virtue's needs. 
 
 The end draws nigh. Nor John nor Herbert sees it. 
 
 \^His attendants approach with Idonea 
 Earth's tenderest spirit and bravest ! Welcome, child ! 
 Soft plant in bitter blast ! Adieu, my friends ; 
 This maid hath tidings for my private ear. 
 
 {^Attendants depa,'. 
 My message reached you then, my child, at Rouen ? 
 But what is this ? Is that the countenance turned 
 So long to yon dark W'est ? 
 
ST. THOMAS OF CANTBRBURY. 
 
 Idonea. t 
 
 oming Ur off. In tear I raised my head • 
 T ward me there moving two Form7f. i '"" 
 I-^ture and in ^J^^^{^ ^ ^^^ 
 1 he loftier wore a veil. 
 
 Waa sadness ,„ore S'tha f ^\'" *"^ "' "W' 
 Than earthly joy eoSt''';^-;»^7 
 
 And spake: — ''For Inm ,.,i ^ ' 
 
 It was a shroud ''"' "^"'* *^«" ^«v'«fc on earth." 
 
 Becket A shroud? 
 
 Idonea. a j i 
 
 Than that which ',„M tK " ' "°"« 
 
 Enswathed your ,i f '^^ "^^^ f^^'^^im, 
 Amid the wL ighf ;r '"it r t '^^ 
 Itracedi„sa„gLosrbe«^.t: :Lr 
 
 ^ mowing that triumph is our (.hi^f of d-n-.^ .. 
 -^nz yuu that holy warnin.r " "^^^'"^^ 
 
 323 
 
 ' If 
 
 ' f 
 
 I J' SI 
 
 b 
 
 '•»€ 
 
324 
 
 HIGHER READEE. 
 
 I accept it. 
 
 Becket. 
 Spake not that other r' 
 
 Idonea. Suddenly a glory 
 
 Forth burst, that lit huge trunk and gloomiest cave : 
 That queenlier Presence had upraised her veil. 
 
 Becket. You knew her face ? 
 
 ^(^onea. And learned what man shall be 
 
 When risen to incorrupt. It was your sister ! 
 
 Becket. Great God ! I guessed it. 
 
 ^^«^««- In her hand she held 
 
 A crown whose radiance quenched the heavenly signs : 
 The star-crown of the elect who bore the Cross. 
 With act benign within my hand she placed it, 
 And spake :—" For him thou lov'st the most on earth." 
 It was her being spake — her total being — 
 Body and spirit, not her lips alone. 
 I heard : I saw. That vision by degrees 
 Ceased from before me ;— long the light remained : 
 A cloudless sun was rising, pale and dim, 
 In that great glory lost. 
 
 Becket. My daughter, tell me 
 
 Idonea. This storm is nothing ; nor a world in storm ! 
 
 The rage of nations, and the wrath of kings ! 
 
 God sits above the roaring water-floods : 
 
 He in our petty tumults hath His peace. 
 
 And we our peace in His. Man's life is good ; 
 
 Death better far.. 
 
 Becket.. Was this a dream or vision ? 
 
 Idonea. A vision, and from God. 
 
 Becket. Both dream and vision 
 
 Have been His heralds oft 
 
 ^^^^^«- To make us stron^r 
 
man shall be 
 
 L ana vision 
 
 ST. THOMAS OF CANTERRCJRy. 
 
 Tha^lr^ tasks/not lull the soul, or soften. 
 That viHion pa«t, tenfold in me there burned 
 Th craving once again to tread our En.dand 
 
 ihither this night I sail. 
 
 ■Becket T +1 , 
 
 v^„ ^1 ^ thi'ee days I 
 
 The fIV^u^""' "^'^ ""■^' ^"^ discharged : 
 The Pope hath pamed the sentence of snsLs „„ 
 On two «eh»matic UAo^^Undon and YoT 
 
 Ci.efl, the hands^of C:i^ ^^^ ^T 
 la^: t""T" ^" ''y- Llewellenlned 
 ^-^encl tidings in his place. 
 w 1 . • ^ Ijlewellen's known • 
 
 On Sunda, doming th. p:;/ha f ^ ".fn^ °" ^ 
 Sha 1 lodge that sentence, aye, and hoUUt Lt 
 Within the hand of York. ' 
 
 The hah. o,anun night Mttir..^'"'"' 
 JNot less, the deed accomplished-— 
 
 Idonea. „ 
 
 Bungeon so deep that God will not be thel^ " 
 
 m; s ur;r "^""^^^ *^^^ ^-^^ ~- 
 
 n ! ^ ■ ^"^ ^"^^'« *« di«> for life is sin ■ 
 One fears not death. Your sister 'mid T * 
 TTvvon IV i- 1 V 7 "^^*^ *"<^ snows 
 
 ' -ron thi« bosoiu died : she teared not death ; V 
 
 ■625 
 
 I m 
 
 —ti 
 
326 
 
 HfOHER READER. 
 
 While breath remained she thanked lier God, and praised 
 The Empress on this bosom died ; — death near, [Him. 
 She was most humbiy sad, most sweetly fearful ; 
 But, closer as it drew, her hope rose high, 
 And all was peace at last. 
 
 Becket Then go, my child, 
 
 You claim a great prize — meet it is y.u find it. 
 May He who made, protect you. May His saintw. 
 Fair-flowering and full-fruited in His beam, 
 Sustain you with their prayers ; His angel host 
 lu puissance* waft you to your earthly bourne. 
 In splendor to your heavenly. Earth, I think, 
 Hath many a destined work for that small hand; 
 Sigh not as yet for hekven. 
 
 Idonea. I will not, father : 
 
 I wait His time. 
 
 Becket The wind has changed to south ; 
 
 The sea grows smoother, and a crimson light 
 Shines on the sobbing sands. Beyond the cliff 
 The sun sets red. This is the mandate, child ; 
 Farewell, and pray for me ! 
 
 '' [^Idonea kneels, kisses his hand, and departs. 
 
 HerheH. {Returning with the rest'] Bad run.ors thick- 
 en 
 
 Becket. In three days hencs I thread my native shores. 
 Llewellen. With what intent ? 
 
 Becket. To stamp this foot of mine 
 
 Upon the bosom of a waiting grave, 
 And wake a slumbering realm. 
 
 1. Power. 
 
uid praised 
 [Him. 
 
 nts, 
 
 MABK ANTONY'S OKATION. 
 
 327 
 
 Llcwcllen. -vr..., u i 
 
 r, ; . ,^ „ • ^'^y It please your Grace - 
 
 If f tf;^- ^/' 'r^«r-- y-r. of exileare enough • 
 It into that fair church I served of old ° ' 
 
 I may not entrance make, a living man, 
 Let tnem who love me o'er it« threshold lift 
 And lay my body dead. 
 
 Thomas Aubrey de Vere. 
 ana n>... ^Jn,i,,a\I:.;ZZ:Tt''''{''' ^'"^ 
 
 4 
 
 I 'i! 
 
 d departs. 
 ors thick- 
 
 ve shores. 
 )t of mine 
 
 MARK ANTONY'S ORATION. 
 
 'f coml W^^^^^ ""'^'^'^-^^-^ iend me your ears. 
 1 come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 The evil that men do lives after them • 
 The good is oft interred with their bones : 
 So let It be with C^sar !-Noble Brutus 
 
 ilath told you Caesar was ambitious • 
 It It were so, it was a grievous fault \ 
 And grievously hath Csesar answered it 
 
 Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
 
 (i^ or Brutus is an honorable man • 
 
 So are they all, all honorable men •) 
 
 Come I to speak in C\esar's funeral. 
 
 He was mv friend, faiflifpi o.,j ;„_. . 
 
 But Bratus says he was ambitious; 
 
 i 
 
 tr^l 
 
 
328 
 
 HI&HER READER. 
 
 i:% 
 
 '?<'U 
 
 
 And BrutuH in an honorable man. 
 
 He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 
 Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill ; 
 
 Did this in CaBsur seem ambitious ? 
 
 When that the poor have cried, Cfesar hath wept; 
 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 
 You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 
 Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And, sure, he is an honorable man. 
 
 I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
 
 But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 You all did love him once, not without cause ; 
 
 What causQ withholds you then to mourn for him ? 
 
 judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 
 And men have lost their rea^son !— Bear with me.— 
 
 My heart is in the coffin there with Ca3sar, 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me.— 
 
 But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world : now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 masters ! if I were dispos'd to stir 
 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ; 
 Who, you all know, are honourable men. 
 
 I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
 Than I will wrong such honorable men. 
 i._j i.,,it! n .V i^tirvixmcui,, wii/u tiiu aeai oi uassar ; 
 
MAKK ASTONY's ORATION. 
 
 I found it in his closet: 'tis his will 
 
 Le but the com,ao„s hear his t.sta„,e„t, 
 
 On.d:,par,,o ,,Id„,.ot„„,a,.tore.,l,) 
 And tley would go and kiss de,«l C.e..r's w„„„.,. 
 And d,,, their nark,ns in his su,.red blood ; ' 
 
 [«^, beg a hair ofhim for memory 
 And, dying, mention it within their will, 
 Beque^thmg it as a rich legacy ' 
 
 Unto their issue , 
 
 rH/Z^r ^"^' '"■"P'"-^ *» shed them now 
 You a do know this n.antle ; I remember 
 
 ihe first fme ever Csw put it on; 
 
 ThTrt """"""■'•' "^'•^"'"S, in his tent, 
 ihat day he overcame the Nnrvii 
 
 t'T w""' P''*'"' ■*" ^<^''''' -IW through- 
 See, what a rent the envious C.^a made , *' 
 
 f^na, w he plucked his cursed steel away 
 
 Mark how the Wood of Cie.™. follow Jtf 
 ABru.^iing out ofdoors, to be resolved 
 If Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel • 
 Judge, you gods, how dourly Caesar lov d him I 
 
 This was the most nnkindest cut of all 
 For when the noblest Caesar saw him st"b 
 
 Ingratitude, more strong than trait i> arm, 
 Qnite vanquished ■ then burst his might^h L- 
 And m his mantle muffling up hi., fa".e,^ ' 
 
 Even at tlieb,^e of Pompey's statue, 
 
 r 1: at,,"'"'" r "°«'' S-^' «-"■ fell- 
 
 The! T f ""^ *"'•"■ "^y countrymen I 
 ^non 1, and von and "11 nf - " " ' 
 
 While bloody treason flourished over us, 
 
 329 
 
 '0? 
 
m 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 I 'i 
 
 .'; I 
 
 Oh, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
 
 Til' (lijit of })ity : the8e are gracious dropn. 
 
 Kind mnh, what weep you, when you hut hehoid 
 
 Our Civmr'H vesture wounded ? Look you hero : 
 
 Hero iH himHelf, marred, as you see with traitors! 
 
 Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny 
 
 They that have done this deed are honorable. 
 
 What i)i-ivate griefs they have, alas ! I know not. 
 
 That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, 
 
 And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
 
 I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts : 
 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is, 
 
 But, as you know me kll, a plain, blunt man, 
 
 That love my friend ; and that they know full well 
 
 That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
 
 For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
 
 Action, nor utteranc-, nor the power of speech. 
 
 To stir men's blood; I only speak right on ; 
 
 I tell you that which you yourselves do know : 
 
 Show you sweet Caesar's wounds— poor,poor dumb mouths— 
 
 And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus. 
 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 
 Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 
 In every wound of CaBsar, that should move 
 
 The stones of Kome to rise and mutiny.: 
 
 William Shakespeare. 
 
 Rehire the pupill.- To point out ten pemliar lies of expresm>n ■ 
 2-To explain historical allusiom; B.~To scan the first ten lines ■ 
 4.-Ib select verses noted for force or vigor, or heauly of expremon '■ 
 o.~To tell something of Shakespeare. 
 
OEMS. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Tl.o friends thou l.ust, ai.l thoir .uloption tried, 
 grapple them to thy «oul with hookn of 8ti>ol- 
 But do not dull thy palm with ontor^.inment 
 Of each new-hatched, mifledged c.uirad,.. 
 
 331 
 
 Neither a borrower nor a lend, v ».e- 
 For loan oft lones both itself and i>i.>,,d 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of hu- ^Uy 
 This above all.->to thine own self be true 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, ' 
 Ihou canst not then be false to any man. 
 
 William Shakespeare. 
 
 |i» 
 
 II 
 
 GEMS. 
 
 MORMING. 
 
 But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad 
 Walks o er the dew of yon iagh eastern hill. 
 
 Daybreak. 
 
 Night 8 swift dragons cut the clouds full fast 
 
 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; ' 
 
 At whose approach. Ldiosfs wajviorino- V 4 n 
 
 rp„ 1 -; , " — ' "^Uvtormg here and there 
 
 Troop home to church-yards. ' 
 
332 
 
 
 higher reader. 
 Dew on Flowers. 
 
 And the same dew which some time on the buds 
 Was wont to swell, like round ond orient pearls, 
 Stood now within the pretty floweret's eyes, 
 Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
 
 The Blessings of a Low Station. 
 
 'Tis better to be lowly born, 
 And range with humble lives in content, ' 
 Than to be perked up in a glistering grief. 
 And wear a golden sorrow. 
 
 A' Fine Evening. 
 
 The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
 And by the bright track of his fiery car, 
 Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 
 
 Night. 
 
 "Well might the ancient poets then confer 
 On night the honor 'd name of counsellor, 
 Since struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind. 
 We hght alone in dark afflictions find. 
 
 Destiny. 
 
 How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind. 
 With full-sprer i sails to run before the wind ! 
 
ii u 
 
 PREFIXES, SUFFIXES AND 
 
 ROOTS. 
 
 SAXON AND ENGLISH PREFIXES. ' 
 
 signifies on or in ; 
 
 Be "^'"'T7VV' -' «foot, abed. 
 
 Fore — ^e/-^g 
 
 Mis, un - neffation 
 Out, over— e«ce»« 
 ^ -— motion upwards 
 
 With — from, or af/a/n*^ 
 Counter — contrary 
 
 LATIN PREFIXES. 
 
 foretell, /or«warn. 
 
 m25inform, ?mdo. 
 ■ OM^strip, overload. 
 
 upstart, M^set. 
 withdv&w, toithstan± 
 counteract, counterbalance, 
 /orhid, forget. 
 
 the word with which it is mr,l «o™mencmg letter of 
 
 Ambo _ i«.A ■ ' '*'"*'«'^*' «w6ition. 
 
 Ante 7. V • ' "»^*i<lextrou8. 
 
 Auie — beforp. ^.., . , 
 
 Oircum _ around ' ' ''."'''''^'^^' "'^'^icipate 
 
 urouna . , c/rcMwspect, circuit. 
 
334 
 
 HlGliEll lUJADER. 
 
 Cis ~ on this side . . cmlpine. 
 
 (rhiB prefix vanes in composition as well as arf As a <ren 
 
 Contra 
 De 
 
 Dis, di 
 E, ex 
 Extra 
 
 — against 
 
 — doicn^ of, from 
 
 — asunder 
 
 — out of 
 beyond 
 
 TnbfroreanadJ. — not 
 
 In before a verb - j^, into 
 
 Inter 
 
 Intro 
 
 Juxta 
 
 Ob 
 
 Per 
 
 Post 
 
 PrsB 
 
 Prseter 
 
 Pro 
 
 He 
 
 Retro 
 
 Se 
 
 Sine 
 
 Sub 
 
 Subter 
 
 Super 
 
 — between 
 
 — within 
 
 — nigh 
 
 — in the way of 
 
 • • conifradict. 
 
 ■ . t^epress, (Reject. 
 
 • • ^^tract, disarm, c?<ffuse. 
 
 • egress, eject, ea;clude. 
 
 • ea;^^«vagant, raj^r^ordinary. 
 . mactive, wifirm. 
 
 • mject, /wfuse. 
 
 . m^errupt, ««^ercedo. 
 
 ■ m^roduce. 
 
 • y^w:^aposition. 
 obstacle, obstruct, o/?po8e. 
 
 r ' -"""""^^j "i/owuci,, o/?po8e. 
 
 through,thoroughly permit, perforate, «eZlucid 
 aftfir a ^ 
 
 — after 
 
 — before 
 
 — beyond 
 
 — for ^forward 
 
 — back, again 
 
 — backward 
 
 — aride 
 
 — without 
 
 — under 
 
 — beneat, 
 
 — over, above 
 
 i><w^pone. 
 
 • pre&x, predict , 
 
 . preternatural, preterit. 
 
 • prononn, proceed 
 retract, regain, renovate, 
 retrograde, retrospect, 
 seduce, secede. 
 5?«ecure, *^■mplicity. 
 submit, ew/fuse, susceed. 
 subterfuge, 
 superstrncture. 
 
 ,„ , ' ■• ""/^erstructure. 
 
 wun I'.nglish words ; as swnnount, swrpass. 
 
 iZl ~~ J'^'''''^' "'""'' • • ^''^^^^ ^r«n.port. 
 
 Ultra _ beyond . . «/^ramontane. 
 
PREFIXES, SUFFIXES AND ROOTS. 
 
 GREEK PKEFIXES. 
 
 335 
 
 Amphi 
 
 Ana 
 
 Anti 
 
 Apo 
 
 Auto 
 
 Cata 
 
 Dia 
 
 Epi 
 
 Hyper 
 
 Hypo 
 
 Meta 
 
 Para 
 
 Peri 
 
 Syn 
 
 Philo 
 
 "°"°'.1"3"°" °^^™'"- ■' -. «P»the«c, ano„y,„oua: 
 
 both 
 
 — through, up 
 
 — against 
 
 — from^ away 
 
 — self 
 
 — down 
 
 — through 
 — • upon 
 
 — over, above 
 
 — under 
 
 amphihiom. 
 • • *inatomy. 
 
 • ^ntichrmt, antarctic. 
 
 • ap' *^^ate, aposth. 
 autograph, automaton. 
 
 • catapult, catarrh. 
 
 • diaphanovLs, diatrihe. 
 
 • epitaph, epigram, 
 hi/perciitical, hyperhole. 
 
 • hijpotheaia, hypocrite 
 
 " S f^^^I^^^^'^'^'^^'^P^^^' -^amorphose. 
 -about " P^'^^H parasol 
 
 ^ ^^ .. perimeter, periphery. 
 
 ~/r.enJl,to ■ ■ p>ulamvopy,pLsofi,^-. 
 AFFIXES OR TERMINATIONS, 
 
 Nouns endinff m nn «,,/ 
 liar, dotard, adverJ„7cW t r/""'""""' »»«o»'"««< 
 
 Ie.*«, fav„„-k P'"""='P'«'-''"«'. •'«, and ee ; as,n,andale, 
 y -denote beim, or . ,t2T f7'-'' ' *'^'' *'J ^ ''*. »«. 
 
 wo«.-,, he.i«, iati<«*;pien.,; j;;,i—; J— -;^--r., 
 
 
 :!« 
 
 !i , fci 
 
336 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 as 
 
 Nouns ,«di»gi„fo,,,_de.ote treating of ^ a,, co«oho%, 
 
 Adjectives endinf? in aU f-,n «„^ 
 
 vo^unng or „*<,„/4 t: '^'^"^XZuZVi-^T" 
 po.«po«., irtom«, pithy. ' P'*"?"*""' *''M verW, 
 
 t.o. ; as, redd«*,*:',Xt7f *, :rrsT''".- "■"■™'- 
 degree of contempt. ' " "°P''™ «""« 
 
 Adjectives endins in 7^«« ^..«^+« • . . 
 
 iDo m ^ess,-denote privation; as, housefe^.. 
 
 V ERBS ending in aip pn f„ ;<.i • 
 
 - eiong.,,, cmLdrw{riSi;5 r'° ';""*"• 
 
 «>e. "«aun/i/, embelJj.*^, criticise, harmon- 
 
 ^ WoBus ending in ..„,,_denote ,„^.,^, ,, ,,„„ 
 ■ Words ending in «K-denote direction • as, np«,.rf. 
 
 14.A, Savoyard. ' ^'"°''' '^'■*'"»' I"«*. ^-g- 
 
PREFIXES, SUFFIXES AND ROOTS. 
 
 33V 
 
 im 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 -^^":^z:::^'^::'-^^^^ ^« to appi, 
 
 mform, conform, deZm inf V' ^^^^^P^'^e ; as Form, 
 
 formal. ' '*''"' ^ '""^''"^''^ deformity, conforma/.«n, 
 
 LATIN AND GREEK ROOTS. 
 
 LATIK NOUNS. 
 
 Ager, a>/^, hence, agriculture. 
 Angulus, a ^on^^r . . angular 
 
 ^''[^^^,t^e7nmd,. .nmnimom. 
 
 Anima, the soul, . . animate. 
 
 Annus, a pear, 
 Aqua, wa/er, 
 AAiter, a Judge, 
 Arma, arms, 
 Ars, artis, skill, 
 Artus, ayom^, 
 Bellum, tt;ar. 
 
 Oaput,capiti8,theA^a^,eapital 
 Uro, carnis,>.>A . . carnal. 
 Circus, a c/>cZe, . . circus. 
 Civis, a c/Y/2!e«, , . g^yij 
 
 Cor.cordi8,theAear^, concord. 
 Corona, a crown, . . coronet. 
 Corpus, a 6.rfy, . . corporal. 
 Crimen, a mme. . . criminal. 
 t^rux,crucis.a cross, crucify 
 Culpa, a/ault, . . culpabie. 
 Cura,care,i«,5ine^^. . curate. 
 Jens, a ^ooifA, . . dentist. 
 
 • annual. 
 
 • aqueduct. 
 
 • arbitrate, 
 army, 
 artist, 
 article, 
 ^lligerent. 
 
 
 diary. 
 
 ^ommus, a7orrf, .. dominion. 
 Domus, a house, . . doraectic. 
 -fc-xemplum, an example, exem- 
 plary. 
 
 Facies, a/ace, . . surface, 
 ^ama, a re/>or^ . . famous. 
 ramilia,a/ame7y,. . familiar. 
 
 ^anum, a i?emi?/e,.. profane. 
 J;errum, -/ro», . . ferreous. 
 
 ^emma,& woman,, feminine. 
 
 riuis,thee«t«orlimit.finite 
 
 J;iamma, a/a;«,, . . flambeau. 
 
 ^los, floris, a>?<;er, florist. 
 
 Fohum, a leaf. . . foliage. 
 
 Forma, /om, . formation. 
 Fraus, deceeV, . . fraud 
 Frigus, cold, . . frigid. 
 Frons, the/orehead, front. 
 Fumus, xw^oA:e, . . perfume. 
 
 Crex,gregi8,a/ocA,, congregate. 
 Globus, a Ja//, . . gi^be. 
 tfaeres, an heir, . . inherit. 
 
 Homo, a m/»n v, 
 
 Honor, honor, . . honorable. 
 
 '"ft 
 
 immi 
 
338 
 
 higJhek reader. 
 
 . ignite. 
 . insular. 
 . just. 
 
 juris ^:ction 
 > legififate, 
 . library. 
 'iq- 'Ubriun;. 
 
 ;i/e].'atu?;e, 
 
 iv'^al 
 
 lunar. 
 
 ■ Hospes, a Aos^,hence,ho3pitab I 
 Hostis, an enemy, . . ■ hostile. 
 Humus, the ground, humid. 
 Ignis, ^re, 
 Insula, an island . 
 Jm, right, 
 tfuns, right, 
 Lex, legis, la>f^ , 
 Liber, a book^ 
 Lihra, a balance, . , 
 Litteva, a letter, , 
 Locus, a plae,:', 
 Luna, the moon, . 
 Lux, lucis, light, . . lu^d, 
 Manus, the hand, . . manual. 
 Mare, the >jea, . . marine. 
 Mater, mother, . . maternal. 
 Merx, mercis, marchandise^ 
 
 merchant. 
 Minister, a servant, ministry. 
 Moda8,a manner, . . model. 
 Mona,& mountain,. . mount. 
 Mors, mortis, death, mortal. 
 Munus, muneris, a gift, muni- 
 ficence. 
 Musa, a song, . . amuse. 
 Navis, a ship, . . naval. 
 Nox, noctis, night . . noctural. 
 Numerus, a number, numerous. 
 Oculus, the eye, . . oculist. 
 Opus,operi8,wor^-, . operate. 
 
 Os, ossis, a bone, . . ossifj. 
 
 Par8,partis,a par^,. . particle. 
 
 F&ter, father, . . pateniai. 
 
 P3x,pacip.;, 'ce . . pacific. 
 
 P<iti, pedis. j"(-i>t, . . pedestal. 
 
 rianta, a plai \, . planiiUJou. 
 
 Pceiia, punishmen t , pv i al 
 
 Pondus, weight. . . pcii.ler, 
 
 Populus, the people, populate. 
 . Porta, a gate, . . portal. 
 
 Prseda, prey, booty, prcdatoiy. 
 
 Pretium, price or reward, pre- 
 cious. 
 
 Pugnus, the fist, pugiiacious. 
 Quies, rest, ease, . . quiescent. 
 Kadius, a ray, . . i-adiant. 
 Radix, a root, . . radical. 
 Rota, a wheel, . . rotatory. 
 
 Salus, health, 
 Semen, seed, 
 Signum, a sign. 
 
 . salutary, 
 disseminate 
 • signify. 
 
 Socius, a companion, social 
 
 Sonus, a sound, 
 Stilla, a drop, 
 Tempus, fime, 
 Terra, the earth. 
 Testis, a witness, 
 Turba, a crowd, 
 IJnda, a loave, 
 Verbum, a ^cord, 
 Via, a way^ 
 
 . sonorous. 
 . instil. 
 . temporal. 
 
 terrene. 
 
 testify. 
 
 turbuleat. 
 
 undulate. 
 
 verb . 
 'devirv:.„-s,. ■ 
 
 1 1^ fl!^- 
 
PBEPIXES, SUFFIXES AND ROOTS, 
 
 I^ATIN ADJECTIVES 
 Acer, acris, Mar/?, hence acrid To. , 
 
 ■ amplify. Leyis^ light' 
 •««Perity. Lihev,free, 
 •bounty. Longus, fon^, 
 benefactor. Magnus, greaL 
 •brevity. Malus, iat?, 
 • concave. Maturus, ripe, 
 
 ■L>en8us. fhick j ., ' "''''' 
 
 ^^nx8, hard, . ^._.„. ^^^bus, Ao«e^^, . 
 
 339 
 
 7 -— *"» o/»Ui 
 
 ^quus, equal, 
 -iniplus, ^rtr^e^ 
 Asper, roM^A, 
 Bonus, ffoo->, 
 ^ne, ?<;(.;/, 
 I^revis, short, 
 Cavus, A«^/oa;^ 
 Celer, «m;//'^^ 
 
 Darus, hard, 
 Pe^ix, happy, 
 ^^^\m, joyful, 
 Firmus, atrony^ 
 Fortis, 5rat;e, 
 Grandis, great. 
 Gratus, grateful, 
 Gravis, Aeav^, 
 Inanis, em/?^y, 
 Integer, 2rAo/<?, 
 
 — -*«uu», nonest 
 •durance. Quatuor,/o?^,. . , 
 
 . laxity. 
 . . levity. 
 
 • . liberty. 
 ■ • longitude. 
 
 niagnitudo. 
 
 • malice. 
 
 • matiirity. 
 . medium. 
 
 • minority. 
 
 • miracle. . 
 
 • misery. 
 
 multitude. 
 
 novel. 
 
 parity. 
 
 primeval. 
 
 private. 
 
 probity. 
 
 quarter. 
 
 • • festive. Sacer, holy, 
 
 • • ™; Sagus, knowing, 
 
 ■ • fortitude. Senex, old, 
 
 ■ -grandeur. Severus,.se^;en. 
 
 • gratitude. Simili8,//>5,.g 
 
 • f avity. Solidus, solid, 
 •inanity. Solus, a/o««, 
 
 • integrity. Verus, true, 
 
 LATIJSr VEEB8 
 
 Ago, I do or act, hence, agent. Anto T ^/ 
 
 Actus a...,, , . ^^^^^ ^Pto, I//, . . _^^ 
 
 sacred. 
 
 sagacity. 
 
 senator. 
 
 severity. 
 
 similar. 
 
 solidity. 
 
 solitary. 
 
 verity. 
 
 adapt. 
 
 m 
 
 ,.M 
 
 1 -Ml 
 
340 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Arguo, I arfl'?/e.}ience,argumeiit 
 Audio, I hear^ . ; audible. 
 Augeo, I increase, . . augment 
 Bibo, 1 drink^ . . imbibe. 
 Cado, I/aL', . . accident. 
 
 Ceedeo, 1 cut or heM^ suicide. 
 
 candle. 
 
 } 
 
 Caiido, I bnrn[, 
 Cano, I 8ing^ 
 Cantus, song, 
 Capio, I take, 
 Captus, taken^ 
 Cedo, I yield, 
 Ceesus, yielded, 
 Censeo, 1 judge, 
 Cerno, I discern, 
 Citus, roused, 
 Clarao, I call out 
 Claudo, I close, 
 Clino, I bend, 
 Colo, I fill, 
 Cultus, tilled, 
 Credo, I believe, 
 Creo, I create, 
 Cresco, I grow, 
 Cubo or Cumbo, I lie down, re- 
 cumbent. 
 Curro, I run, 
 Dico, I say, 
 Divido, I divide. 
 Do, I give, 
 Doceo, I teach, 
 Duco, I lead or drato, ductile 
 Erao, I bug, . , redeem, 
 
 Erro, I icander, . . error. 
 
 canticle. 
 
 capable. 
 
 captive. 
 
 cede. 
 
 access. 
 
 cjpnsor, 
 
 certain. 
 
 excite. 
 
 declaim. 
 
 Exclude. 
 
 decline. 
 
 colony. 
 
 cultivate. 
 
 credit. 
 
 creator. 
 
 increase 
 
 current. 
 
 predict. 
 
 divident. 
 
 donor. 
 
 docile. 
 
 . Falio, I deceive, hence, fallible 
 Facio, I do or make, . . factory. 
 . Fendo, I strike 
 Fero, I carry, 
 Ferveo, I 6oil, 
 Fido, I trust, 
 Flecto, I bend, 
 Fligo, I beat, 
 'FlviO,IJlow, 
 Frango, I break. 
 Fractus, broken, 
 Fuglo. I Jly, 
 Fulgeo, T shine, 
 Fundo. I pour out. 
 Fusus, poured out, 
 Genitus, beuotten, 
 Gradior, I step, 
 Greasixa, stepped, 
 Habeo, I have or fiold, habita 
 
 tion. 
 Haereo, I stick, 
 Halo, I breathe, 
 Jactus, thrown, 
 Junctus, joined, 
 Lego, I send away, 
 Lego, I read, 
 Lectus, read, 
 Ligo, I bind, 
 Loquor, I speak, 
 Lao, I loash away. 
 Mando, I command, mandate 
 Maneo, I stay, . . mansion. 
 Medeor, i cure, . . medicine 
 Memini, I remember, memory 
 
 defend. 
 . ferry. 
 . fervor. 
 . fidelity. 
 . inflect. 
 . afflict. 
 . fluid. 
 . fragment 
 . refract. 
 . fugitive. 
 . fulgency 
 . refund. 
 . fusion. 
 . genial, 
 gradation. 
 
 ingress. 
 
 . adhere. 
 
 . exhale, 
 abject, 
 adjunct, 
 legate, 
 legible, 
 lecture 
 ligament 
 eloquent 
 ablution 
 

 Motior, 1 measure, 
 , Mensus, measure^/, 
 ration. 
 
 Misceo, 1 mix, 
 Aiiitto, I i,e;i(/, 
 Missus, sent, 
 Aioneo, I a,?y;i,^,^ 
 
 "•^*«- hend. 
 
 • • ^e^su- Pres8U8,^r....,;, 
 
 I'wngo, I stinq^ 
 ^'nigrant. P„to, l t;,i,,/ 
 
 ••»--tor.iiapio,i,J;;; ••'^^^"- 
 
 • • remove. Bego, I rule, 
 Notus. >fc«,,,. • • i°^«««"t Kuptus, /,.,/,,,,, 
 
 P*isco, I>erf ®*^^eo, I sit, 
 
 •^ ' • • P'*'«"««- Sequor, I/,//^,,; 
 ••passion. Sero, I ,,«„,,, ' 
 ••appeal. Servo,!^,,, ; 
 ••^-epel. Solvo,Iioosen ' 
 •• impend. Spargo, i,^,,,>,^, • 
 •• petition. Specio, I,;,, " 
 
 ••Platidit. Spondeo, I «rJ^: ^'^'''• 
 ••.plenary. Statao,lVC '?r"'- 
 
 ••-p:^erT^--''^'tr^^ 
 
 • -position. Stringo. I J_.;:/^'^."!^- 
 • . porter. ent, " ""^' ' ' "^^^^' 
 
 ^-, » eu^er, 
 Passus. suffered, 
 J'ello, rca7^, 
 Pello, J drive, 
 ^endeo, I Aa«^, 
 f*eto, I seek, 
 Placeo, f jt?/ea«e, 
 Haudo, I praise, 
 Weo, f^;/, 
 Wico, ifold. 
 
 PleCto, f Jf?<?25jff^ 
 
 Pono, 1 place, 
 Positus, placed, 
 : t ^tiTry, 
 
 - ' inipresM, 
 
 • • pungent. 
 • . computed 
 
 • • require. 
 
 • • rapjne. 
 
 • • regent. 
 
 • • rectitude 
 
 • • deride. 
 
 • • rogation. 
 
 • • abruj)t. 
 
 • • ascend. 
 
 • • science. 
 ■ • scjribe. 
 
 • section. 
 
 • sedate. 
 
 • sensation. 
 
 • series. 
 
 • series. 
 
 servant. 
 
 dissolve. 
 
 asperse. 
 
 spectacle. 
 
 aspire. 
 
 ^'d 
 
 ISM I 
 
342 
 
 HT 
 
 ..•eR. 
 
 M", ' 
 
 ■'4.; 
 
 HtTictna, granpeti . hodOf , strict, 
 
 8truo, I build, . atructure, 
 
 Sumo, I take, . . assume. 
 
 Tango, I touch, . . tangent. 
 
 Tendo, I stretch, . . oxteud. 
 
 Tenaus, stretched. . . intense. 
 
 Teneo, I hn/d, . . tenacious. 
 
 Texo, I iceatw, . . texture 
 
 Torquoo, I twist, . . torture. 
 
 Tribuo, T f,nve or ascribe, tribute. 
 
 Tractub, drawn . . extract. 
 
 Trudo, I thrust, . . intrude. 
 
 V<\do, I go, . evade. Utor, I use, 
 
 Valeo, I am stroH(/, value. Usus, ustd, 
 
 Veho, I carry, hence, vehicle. 
 Venio, I come, . convene. 
 Vorto, I turn, 
 Video, I ff" 
 
 Visu^. .,ed», 
 
 Vinco, I conquer. 
 Vivo T live, 
 Voco, I call, 
 Volvo, I roll up, 
 Volo, I wish, 
 Voro, I devour, 
 Votus, voiced^ 
 
 . avert. 
 . evident. 
 . virion. 
 . vincible. 
 . vivify. 
 . vocal. 
 . involve, 
 voluntary. 
 
 voracious. 
 
 votive. 
 
 utensil. 
 
 usage. 
 
 GREEK ROOTS. 
 
 Aer, the air, henco, aeri-il. 
 
 Angelos,^ a messenyer, angel. 
 
 Agogos, a leader. . . demagogue 
 
 Agon, strife, . . agony. 
 
 Anthos, dk flower, . . anthology. 
 
 Anthropos, a man, phila'^^hropy 
 Arche, the beginning, i,. 'em- 
 
 ment, anarchy. 
 Argos, white, 
 Aroma, odor, 
 Astron, a star, 
 Autos, one's self, 
 Ballo, 1 throw or give, ball. 
 Bapto, r wash . . baptism. 
 Biblos. a bo)k, . . bible. 
 Bi( : , life, . . biography 
 
 Bolbos, an onion, . . bulbous. 
 
 arger ' 
 
 aromatic. 
 
 astronomy 
 
 autocrat 
 
 Botane, & plant, hance, botanist. 
 Chole, bile, . . choleric. 
 
 Christos, anointed, ' 'hvistian. 
 Chruma, a color, chromatics. 
 Chronos. 'ime, chronicle. 
 
 Chrysos >otd, . chrysalis 
 
 Demos, the people, democracy. 
 Doxa, glor//, . . doxology 
 
 Dromos, a -ourse, . . aadrom. 
 Dunamis, power. 
 Ergon, worf,-y 
 Ge,'-^ tlie earrh, 
 Geuh I 
 Geno kii 
 
 Gnoo, 1 know, 
 Gonia, an angle. 
 Gramma, a letter, 
 
 : dynast V 
 
 . energy. 
 
 geography. 
 
 '>dnce, hydiL c'U. 
 
 heterogeneous. 
 
 gnonif 
 
 trigon. 
 
 grammar 
 
 1. Pronounced. anere2Zb«.—«r hnrri 9 G in Gr»"'' ~! ^-.-^ ' .... H 
 
 •^ — "j »" "*'>^~i nSTn^oSuUBus nara, as mirer. ^s 
 
PREFIX E8, .SUFFIX fN ivi. « 
 
 ' "'^'AKS AND ROOTS. 
 
 • • analeptic 
 litho^Trtphy 
 
 • • logic. 
 . analysis. 
 
 'nonomftc?iy 
 Jnaniac. 
 
 Ompho, r mile, henco {/rauSfp t n 
 
 ifodra, a ^t'rt^, .... ^ , , ^ iet^wrf?y. 
 
 rr . ■ • ^'^"itJurrtl. Lensi« » t .1 • 
 
 «:=■''• »-. . . U«Z Me hZ' '"?• """'""»«- 
 
 •-atholio. Me.™,,a:X ",' r^'^ 
 • • •nethod. Metron » " ' '""•™P''li» 
 
 hygromoter. Mnome .»,„ misanthrope 
 
 ichthyology A 0° " ■'• """""o-ife 
 
 ••'^'omaScMoZh' r- "■"-'"'J'l'aW'' 
 
 ■ • -'igraphy N.,,a, ^J" '"' "'^"'».''W 
 ••apocaUpseN™'^,* ' ' """ '"=' 
 
 Kophale, the W, . . ^J^. J^""'"". » »«"A . . aae„,,-„„, 
 
 Kmtoa. p„,»., . . ^^ O!^ . a ».J-, . . Exodus. 
 
 • criterion Oligos,/,^, ^^ .^'"^^^ 
 
 "-> pranm, a t,,«,., ..diorama 
 
 Hex, 5/aj, 
 HieroM, Jwlu^ 
 Holiis the ?/;/io/«^, 
 Hoc. a wai^ 
 Honio«, //7e^ 
 Hydor, - .g^^ 
 Hygiov mow/f. 
 Ichthys, a/.sA, 
 Idios, peculiar, 
 Kakos, ^at/, 
 Kalos beuuti/ul, 
 ^aJypto, I cover, 
 Kanon, a rule, 
 Kardia, the /tert,.^, 
 
 Krino, I ^/jscem, 
 ^^J-ypto, I hide, 
 Kyklos, a c«-efe. 
 Laos, ; io /jeujoZe 
 
 i^ego. I .peak or r^arf'^ie^y XT^"' ' "''''' 
 »j eiegy. Orthos, r/^^/, 
 
 orthodox 
 
844 
 
 HIOIIHR READER. 
 
 iim 
 
 « 
 
 ;/ 
 
 
 
 ftfii ■ 
 
 Osteon, a /WW, hmico,o.stef-' ,^y, Ptoron, a wiwj, hence, diptova. 
 
 Ostrakou, a n/trU . . oHtraci.siii. Vyt.jire 
 Oxys, acid, . . oxygen. Rhoo, I flow, 
 
 Prtffos, a //,///. . . aroopagurt SarK.jfesh. 
 
 Pai8, paidos, a hoi,, pddagogiK?. Skolos. the le[/. 
 
 Pan, all, 
 Patlio-s. feelinij, 
 Pf'tiilon, a leaf. 
 Petius, a stone, 
 Phago, 1 ea/, 
 Pi) lino, I sAo'i', 
 
 • • pyro. 
 . . rlietoric, 
 
 ■ • Harcaani. 
 
 ■ . isoHceles. 
 microscope. 
 
 autiaeptic. 
 
 panac(!a. 8kopoo, I see, 
 . . pathetic. Sopo, I putrefy, 
 . . petals. Sophia wMdotu, philosophy, 
 . . petrify, Stereos, solid, Jina, stereotype, 
 sarcophagus. Stello, 1 send, . . apostle. 
 
 . . phasis. Stichos. a line or verse, distich. 
 Pharniakou, a remed;/, pharmacy Stratos, an armi/, stratagem 
 Philos a lover, philosopher. Strophe, a turning, antistrophe 
 
 Phone, a sound, . . euphony. Taphos, a tomh. . . cenotaph 
 Phos, light, . . phoapher Tautos, the mme, tautology. 
 
 Phrasis, a phrase, antiphrasis. Techne . art , technical . 
 
 Phrenos, the mind, phrenology. Telos, distance, telescope 
 
 PhyU)n, & plant, . . zoiphyte Tetra8,/oMr, tetrarchy 
 
 Phusis, nature, . . physics. Teuchos, a book, pentateuch. 
 Plasao, I form, . . plastic. Thema, a thing put forth, 
 Pneuma, the mW, pneumatics. theme. 
 
 Poleiiios, war, 
 Poleo. I sell, 
 Polis, a city, 
 Polys, many, 
 Potamos. a river. 
 
 polemics Thesis, a position, hypothesis, 
 monopoly. Theos, God, . . theism. 
 
 . . policy. Tomos, a section, a cutting, 
 polyanthus. anatomy, 
 
 potamology. Tonos, a tone, intonation. 
 
 Pons, podos, afoot, antipodes. Topos, a ;>Zace, . . topical 
 Praktos, done. . . practical Trope, a tttrning, . . tropic 
 
 Protos, first, . . protocol. Typos, ajigure, ^pattern, a type 
 
 Psyche, the soul, psychology. ZoJn, an animal . . zodiac. 
 
HINTS. 
 
 •laug.iters either of Ni«ht „.• nf P ^''*^>' '"« ^^^^*^d the 
 
 He«,>eris. vvhen.e thoiol ; Ln^,^^^^^^^ k' ^^'^'«' ^ ^^ Atla« and 
 "ona ,aention three Hcsperic e« nami "'"r^^'''''^'^^- So.ne trach- 
 P«"n- The poet.. .lenoribe them «?!' ''^'' 1:^^'^'"«^' ^'^^ «««- 
 -ng. It w«« one of the lab ^ " He;r^^'\^"^«^ ''' «-«' 
 *'' <'•««" npp|<..s. """"^ °' H^'-CMles to obtain possession 
 
 • Hi?'*'?"'**' ^'^^ "'««* celebrated of all iU u 
 
 H.8 exploits were celebrated not onl. in I , ^"'^'^ of antiquity. 
 Med>terranean, but even in the ".r/ '"""^'''''' '•°»"' the 
 worlJ. The twelve great Lr.ru 'f""' '"^^^^ ^^ the ancient 
 theNeniean T-n ; Tktight ^"^^ ^^^^^^^^ '^^ ^^''^ ^^ 
 The capture of the Arcadian stag 4 Th '^'T''' ^''^'^ ' ' 
 
 c-^bui, s. Thifa;t^:r:?r:aret^^^^ 
 ^p^:^i:::fCi;s~^^^ 
 
 golden .p,,ea of the Hes;eS '^^ ^'^« ^^^hingofthe 
 
 the lower world. ^ ' ^^- ^''« hringing of Cerberus from 
 
 of F. "The^^rrn'Tgh: 1^ iT^ '"'"'" '' '' ^"**- - the key 
 '"ovement, in ,«,4 i^ anTZ,! I"^' ^°^ ^'^^he best known.-A 
 measure or time. ^ "«'' «^™'^ «'* P-^t having the samt 
 
 3. The ThlrteentU Centn.... 
 
 great and eminent saints andTho^arf T" '''"''■'^*^'^ ^^^ ^^s many 
 tended, and Catholin nr.-...„l!t V ^"^^*^^«it^«« were Welv „t^ 
 
 phuosophy was taught •,;y%;f:t;---j^^^ 
 
 proiessora, theology by the 
 
 f 
 
 I '! 
 
346 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 
 il . 
 
 ' 
 
 i|. 
 
 I 
 
 '11 
 
 'J 
 
 most learned divines ; and literature wa.s being sedulously cultivalod. 
 Poets of no mean ability were singing their sweetest notes; now 
 varying their strains in accordance with nature whose beauty and 
 grandeur they proclaimed; and, then, in deep-toned and mellow 
 notes sounded the depths of Christian truths, the sublimity of the 
 Divinity, and the unspeakabh; greatness and dazzling brightness and 
 purity of the uncreated Beauty and Love. 
 
 4. We may also instance the courageous heroine, Jeanne Ba- 
 Chette of Beauvais, France. In 1472, the city was besieged by the 
 Duke of Burgundy, Charles the Bold. It is said that during the 
 siege, she, at the head of several other valiant women, went upon 
 the ramparts, and- cut down the enemy's standard which a Burgun- 
 dian soldier had already erected. Some historians are of opinion 
 that her real name was Jeanne Fouqicel; while others maintain that 
 she derived her name froni the ax [hacheUe) with which she was 
 armed during the siege. 
 
 5. Reference is here made to David who slew his boasting adver- 
 sary, the Giant Goliath.— Bethulia was saved by the i)ious and God- 
 fearing Judith. 
 
 6. JTudea, the ancien; kingdom of Judea.forming the southern part 
 of Palestine or the Holy Land, having North, Samaria, West the 
 countrv of the PhUistines, (Phoenicians,) South, Arabia, and East, 
 the dead Sea and the River Jordan. 
 
 7. A village of France, department of Vosges, 7 miles N. of Neut^ 
 chateau, on the left bank of the Meuse. The house of Joan of Arc is 
 preserved as a national relic. Opposite to it is a handbome monu- 
 ment, with a colossal bust of the heroine. She is known in history 
 as the " Maid of Orleans." 
 
 8. A town of France in the department of Meuse. 
 
 9. Charles Til., sumamed the Victorious, asserted his right 
 to the throne of France, while Henry vr., of England was proclaimed 
 King of France under the regency of his uncle, the Duke of Bedford. 
 The Engli.^h laid siegvi to Orleans, a place of the greatest importance, 
 and so successful were they in their warfare that France began to trem- 
 ble for her safely. They were, however, suddenly restored by one of 
 
 the most extraordinary event,", r-^corded in History 
 
 J can aii\xc was 
 
Hints. 
 
 347 
 
 virtue, justice, anjatc^tio" """ " ""■"* «' -^-wl^ed 
 
 greatest conqueror of ancient timL H ^- . : ^- "» >™>' "■« 
 being only 33 yea«, of ^e ffi '"i "!,?'1 '» "■» »P™8 "fife. 
 Jn one of hie drunken fl^ lie WIlS I f f"^ """'"»'l""'-''"">''il»- 
 -'y of Egypt, was f^Ldrfby ;" ■' "" '""" -*''*'"*». - 
 
 bornatStockholnWuneV T<f«°^ ^f^""' f «'^^^'^^«^«d conqueror, 
 siege of FredeWekshairittt d nte G:Sf'';i '' ' '^" ^^ ^'- 
 T2 ^r "'" ''^^ ^^'^^'^^"^^^^^^^^ " """" 
 
 ^A/p;«Vo'I^lt,^a'^'!r.^" sometimes surnamed 
 
 'earning. and'^irt^CwrronTtT'"' "f"''''^ ''' ^"« ^^«^'«-. 
 March, 180. A. 1). ^ '^^^^J'^'^f; ''^''' ''''' >^- ^- ^ ''« died. 
 
 ~ The Ch..ia„s ^p^ ^ter J^^ ^^T" ''' '"^''^ 
 
 bor^a!T™?:i:;;:^;7-«^- 
 
 have of his teachings vvasgi ven in "t-''''''"^'- ^'^''^^ ^^ 
 
 Plato and Xenophon^ So' J;/ ^.o g.eat disciple, 
 
 understood the philosophy o h.s mal K °^^ '"' "^'^^ ''^^"-^ 
 
 men condemned him to drink I .?" ""g''''t«f«l c.untry- 
 
 ^^i- guilty Of cor.pI^ryol^^T:,2^^^^^^^ ''-' ^^"-^ 
 
 one t fhf rs! fe"C' TnlT: of' ^r^' ^"^^^ ^« «-«y> 
 Paris. 1663; and died, 1733 ^'"^^"^« «^ ^^^^^^n times, was born in 
 
 15. CalusXulius ©«»««.. ^ r-,. 
 times, was born, July 100 ET T f ^''^**^'* "^^^ «f ancient 
 Ides of March, 44, B C ^ ' '"'^ """^ ^^"^^ ^3' Brutus, on the 
 
 the hoad of his army, bv Xr^L'l^T? P^«^« --«« 't at 
 ivepubiic. This act gave r'lse toih^T " Z^^'^'^^^*^ ^ar against the 
 gave rise to the proverb • " The die is cast !" 
 
 If 
 
 ' 'I 
 
 I ■ I 
 
348 
 
 HIGHER READER, 
 
 17. Peppeniiint.Water.-Thi8 scented' liquid is obtained 
 from the plant called Mint. : he name by whi(;h we know the plant 
 18 Hpear Mint. It is generally cultivated in gardens, but sometimes 
 the seeds are swept by the wind into moist places where thcx- take 
 root and grow m a wild state. 
 
 Spear Mint produces purple-colored tiowers, its leaves are long and 
 sloiiiier. The essence of peppermint is produced from the leaves and 
 hciwors which aie highly scented. 
 
 It is sold by grocers, and is used to flavoi- confectionery. Lozenges 
 owe then- agreeable flavor to the essence of peppermint. 
 
 18. Essence of clones is derived from the Latin davus, a nail 
 Cloves resemble smaU nails, and in all countries where they are used 
 are designated by a terra which means nail, The French call 
 cloves Cloit de Qirofie, or "Clove-Nails." The Chinese call them 
 " fragrant nails," and the Germans " scenteil nails." They are im- 
 ported to this country from the Moluca Islands, where they orow on 
 trees from forty to sixty feet high. Essence of Cloves is liianufact- 
 ured from Clove seeds. It appears like scented water, but water is 
 not used to disolve the oil of Cloves or other scented plants. The 
 oil of those plants is generally disolved in alcohol. 
 
 19. lil&Tender. Water is a i>lant of the Mint family The 
 fiowei-a of this plant are highly .scented, and from them is produced 
 the oil from which Lavender-Water is made. 
 
 20. Glycerine is a colorless transparent sweet svi-up obtained 
 from the fatly i)arts of animal bodies. 
 
 It Was discovered by Scheele in 1779. and it exists in large quan- 
 tities. In the manufacture of soap, large quantities of Glycerine are 
 extracted from the animal matter employed. It is used in soap and 
 perfumery. 
 
 Glycerine has been extensively used in medecine for the past half 
 century. 
 
 21. Motes, are very small particles of matter; they can be seen if 
 we look through the rays of sunlight entering a room. 
 
 22. This selection is taken from Mark Twain's " Roughing It." 
 The ludicrous may be found in the use of words which develop two 
 ir,!^s??!ngs— one of them absumiy opposite io iluj one inteiided ; or it 
 
HINTS. 
 
 34f) 
 
 =trx::ri:-:^™f, --.--... ..vol 
 
 '•■".fag a threat.. '^;,, ' ."T'T" .■*°,°*' '"'"'"'■■ >« 
 >■■■« ofa ,„„,. caok tIn.u.hVr.tZ.hi:?' '" "" '"*'"'" ''''"- 
 
 ginatorofl. A Tivafise on ^i\lr' ^^^- ^"^ ^^« t'"" "W- 
 »eous Method, 1682, ulthouLh tnl ^f "T"'"^' ^^ ^'^^ «''^»lt^- 
 f Primus Schools, p^- f o S a 4 ^""T "'*' ^"^^'^'-^ ^ 
 ^'•8^). 5. Technical .sLolsnlt' t" ■;:^'' ''^^^"^^« (^«"»«' 
 «-ut- Yon, 1705); 6. B^^X^'^'V '''''^' ^P^^''^' 1^99; 
 
 <''^v Schools (Pan,, im ti^l^^T't'"'''''^''^^ «• «""" 
 CHt..chetical, Socrati and Pnuiulf f^"';"-^^^*"-'^ "*' Teaching: 
 
 -•iter in «. Boston j1^ :"fTT"' "" '"'''''• ''^ '--^ 
 school reformers of the p"!^ Vt'lT f 7'^ •' " ^"''1-^ some 
 structive criticism. His n , jol !/; '\''" T*' ^'""t himself to de- 
 lations deep and broad ZZ Zi it ' "' '" '"''^'^^ ^-"- 
 after some alteration, and addi o t' tt:,r:i' f ,""" ""' ^^'^^^•^' 
 and symmetrical stnu^ture. "°'''^' <^«'nmanding, 
 
 n.'tafr^ "ir ^:j^^ii>s- t-' -' ' '^-'- 
 
 created Duke of York and died at sT ( 1 ' '^'^ '""" "^^"'- ^^^'^ 
 
 1701. Asa Kmg, ho wo^ brl! 1 /''""'" '' P^'''^' ^^Pten.ber, 
 ^i'd much for them.p ;renuahe rr '"' ^"^''^^^^^^ ^^ 
 
 e<l by h,s own daughter Ma ' ' ^ T^' ^' ''"^ '^'^^''''^ 
 
 Pnnce of Orange. Hw's a .n'' "", "' ^"'''''''' ^^''"'^'" "i-- 
 
 Cathohc,anddimud^!l,ar? "7'' '^"^^ '''^''' ^--n 
 was noble and generous. ^ "' ""^ """'>'■ ^^'^ d'«Po«ition 
 
 25. Cardinal <ie limaiii^ a_., ,. . 
 
 '•'' Ojialons-snr- 
 
 li 
 
350 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 .1 1 . 
 
 26. Trottl de la Chetarill, Parish Priest of St. Sulpice, 
 Paris. 
 
 27. "Tlie force of this simile," says Bowering in his Specimens of 
 t/ie Rmsinn Poets, "can hai-dly be imagined by tliose who have 
 never witnessed the sun shining, witli unclouded splendor, m a cold 
 of twenty or thirty degrees of Reaumur. A thousand and ten thou- 
 sand sparkling stare of ice, brighter than the brigliest diamond, play 
 on the surface of the frozen snow : and the slightest breeze acts myri- 
 ads of icy atoms in motion, whose glancing light, and beautiful rain- 
 bow hues, dazzle and weary the eye." 
 
 28. filt.Francl!« Xavier, the Apostle of the Indies and Japan, 
 and one of the first lueinbers of the SocieUj of Jesus, was born in Navarre, 
 April 7, 1.506; and died in the Island of San Chan, near M»as, China 
 December 2, 1552. 
 
 29. Although tiie ar-ount which the heroine lias given of (he de- 
 fense of the f(>r( ot Verehei-es, and assigning it to the year 1696, is 
 however believed to have taken place in 1692. In the baptismal rec- 
 ord of Sorel, we find that she was baptized, April 17, 1678, which 
 fact gives us fourteen yeare to 1692. This agrees with Parkman's ac- 
 count. Louis XIV., was then King of France. 
 
 30. For an excellent account see " Hand-book of the Dominion of 
 Canada," by S. E. Dawson. 
 
 31. The Iroquois was a confederacy of five tribes of Indians, 
 namely, Mohawks, Senecas, Onondagas, Cayuagas and Oneidas. 
 
 32. Whilst she was retuniing to the fort, balls were whizziiig 
 through the air, and not one touched her. Another author who gives 
 her own vereion of the thrilling history says that she recited this 
 prayer : " Mothei- of My God, I have always loved thee as my dear- 
 est Mother, do not abandon me in this moment of peril. Let \w 
 i-ather die a thousand deaths than fall into the hands of these savages " 
 
 33. The object of this book is to show that, if ail the physicial 
 wants were sujiplied a,s fast as tliey arose, still man could be uiiliappy. 
 because of a sjnritual want. He investigates different occupations ol 
 men, and discusses them with a profound insight. 
 
 34. The original of this poem contained only eicrhtpeii lines. Poo 
 
HINTS. 
 
 351 
 
 Dominion of 
 
 fits ir ^;r.Xht-V^ t-'^e woria in ,. present 
 'dea in the mind of a man If ^IZl. ^ "'^ ^development of au 
 
 o/1^..«Sr"' ''' '-''' '''' ^'^-^- ^^ ^oughtin the VaUe, 
 
 ^^^^^^^^n:^^,-!^' ^-^-^ Haa 
 
 4or;, rhn'tn;i:rai,r 'tr '^^-*-"* «^'-itin.- 
 
 in all literature. SlXspel Te t otT , ' W^^S^ '" ^"^^'«^^' ^ '^ 
 
 -i3 John Banyan the Kce ftl f^^^^ 
 
 /•/•oyrm is confessedly the greatest o^Tu '^'"' ^^^'"^^'^'^ 
 
 It is said upon good authorl /tlf T''' *"''^"* «'• «^<^Jern- 
 
 work some years beforjoh^R, ' T"'' ^^'^ vvritten a similar 
 
 CathohcLitLtureaXs"^^^^^^ 
 
 passages in the master-piece of Milton S I ^? '"*">^ '*'"''^i"« 
 
 to the Cathohc Dutch p'oet, Von tr wfndll ' ^'"^ """^^^"^^ 
 
 176o'; and'^ecnsfrL^Ih.f rTr T"'"' ^'''' ^* ««"»»«. 
 1825; ho was entrusted wtira dron.'""' ^' ^^^ ^"^ ^" 
 Rus vni.. and was elected r!p' 1^^"''' "^'^'"^ *« P^"««xa by 
 
 39. ]yi€hoIas PavloTlAoii w r? 
 
 at a Petersburg Julv ITQA /," ^'"P^'""*' of Russia, born 
 em the memorable Crimean war took pll He ^" ^^ 
 
 this war by France and England Th. F , 7^' "^^'^''^ '" 
 entered the Black Sea, andtnld Ih ^^/^ *"^ ^ngli^h fleets 
 September, 1854. The kussiai'tte di:^' ™^ '" «"--. 
 
 40. A similar thought is expressp-l m v^ '■ * 
 
 poem, "The Light of Asia." ^'^^'^ ^^"-^'^'s beautiful 
 
 41. The champion of Scottish ^ ! ..r. 
 
 Edward r., in London, 1305. ^ ^ ''*' '^''"*^^ ^y order of 
 
 42. They were famous navi,.atox. Jrom the js^orwegian P • , 
 
 43. WoH^n, i3 fron. the Latin- vo-d Fof T 
 aomethmg found by d.ggmg. AnL^ f , f!*:!:.*^ '^'- ^"^ "-ans 
 
 — rTTgvi-auiG organisms ihat 
 
 IS 
 
362 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 I 
 
 Ih' 
 
 
 have been turned into atone ; or rather, whose tissws have been 
 replaced by stone, leaving their shapes perfectly preserved. Impress- 
 ions of such organisms made in a substance originally soft, and 
 afterward hardened and thus preserved, are also called fossils. 
 
 44. That is, saw the correspondence of things natural and thin-r^ 
 spiritual, " 
 
 45. Applied to natural things. 
 
 46. Some lines from the beginning and a lonrr q'uotation towanl 
 the end of Part i,, I'ave bren omitted. 
 
 47. A species of rose; the sweet brier. Milton, however, implies 
 here the honeysuckle. 
 
 48. Noted for learned dramas. 
 
 49. Reference is made, to the various metrical improvements 
 especially th« scale or mode of music called Li/dian, and the form oi' 
 the lyre called majiadis. 
 
 50. A mythical personage, was regarded by the Greeks as the most 
 celebrated of the early poets. Presented with tie lyre by Apollo 
 and instructed by the Muses in its use, he enchanted with its music 
 not only wild beasts, bnt the trees and rocks upon Olympus, so that 
 they moved from their places to follow the sound of his golden harp. 
 
 51. Pertaining to the Elysian fields ; exceedingly delightful. 
 Homer places it in the west and describes it as a happy land. 
 
 52. The giver of wealth, at first a surname of Hades, the godof 
 the lower world. 
 
 53. In mythology, the wife of Orpheus. 
 
 54. Omission of thirty of lines from the beginning and eighteen 
 from the middle of this poem. 
 
 55 A surname of Venus, from t..e island of Cyprus. 
 
 56. Having reference to Jupiter. 
 
 57. The moon, drives a yoke of dragons attached to her chariot. 
 
 58. '« Hermes Trts)nae«?lstii« »' the famous mystical work, 
 studied tor its deeply concealed wisdom. 
 
HINTS, 
 gq nil p oo3 
 
 He has bin cX!! 2'7t„J """ """^ " A">™« al"-"! 429 B C 
 60. This refers in Pi..< » j . 
 
 «nb« their p,,i„„,^ v,.lue/l '"d« r"""'"' '"•°'»"'' 0- 
 pmperly written, p„i„to out to 2 t » " "*'■ '^'''S'^)-. "'k™ 
 ■«"««, shows thedirefc! efflrwh ?'""""*""■ '^f °wn 
 
 ■•esentment, and other strong em„Uo,T' '""'""°"' ■"■"'""•y. We" 
 »tamed, p.x,d„c.npo„ the Cn ,ife ''"' """«"'""' <"• I"* ""« 
 
 62. Thi8,*fer,i„.„„i^„j,^ 
 Ihe na„,e of Pelop, „as so celehm"?,L. . ^^^ «'''""''™ """Pter. 
 
 .is '■■ '""'-- -'^ ^"-'"ira^ridhet 
 
 ..,t,!'- -^'e,. to a„.e„. rr.y. . „,„,.,^ ,.„ ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 64. JHlHli and Affeln ■■»■.»■ 
 
 Ht^yor these poen.s,brel:rotl7h^^^ ^^^'^- -^ 
 
 soilness" and ^s akin to marro'v Thl Tl"''^' ^^^8'""' "'^^'^ir^s' 
 
 word, ba^ed on an old false Z'vo T " '"^"'- ''^ «^^-' 
 
 grave mood to black bile. 11^1^1 f ""''", '" "^^"' ^'•'*^-'^« the 
 words with the definition of the s "'' '"^ "^^ "'« ^'^"gJi«l) 
 
 accepted: *^^ ««»«« ^n which alone each i" 
 
 "These delights i, thou canst give 
 Mirth, with thee I, uean to l?ve -' 
 
 " These p]ea8,,res, Melancholy give 
 And I with thee will „k ' ^'^ ^> 
 The Italian titles to ^^ "^ '^"' '""^'''' '« "ve." 
 
 -urce of these delights and pWe^'^S"*!^ t''"'' '^' *^« ^-^-I 
 all cheerful sights and soundrof .,.f " ' ^""'^ ^^'^^ the joy „, 
 na^ral to the man whose bosot's LTs ^ wf "' •^"^''^^ -"-- 
 L Allegro ,s defined as " one who h^ It f *'^^ '" ^'« throne, and 
 -ent which shows itself in ZluZ of o" T """ ^^^^ -"^ent 
 roso," whose name is derived from aVoL? "''""•" " '^ ^--e- 
 
 man «i.o,r« «.x ji . "'" a word mpflnnir, /« - • T ■ 
 
 - - o— , liu. uirough jii-humor but whiu r"""° '"" "''"^'^' '^ tiie 
 
 ' "' ""^"^^ ^'« '-^^^on is employed 
 
 . I 
 
 
 ^1 
 
354 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 ■•in 
 
 P 
 
 I 
 
 Mi ^ 
 
 in weighing and considering that which invites his contemplation. 
 With his companion sketches of this true lightness of heart and this 
 true gravity, Milton blends a banning of the false mirth of the 
 thoughtfulness—" vain deluding joys, the brood of folly"— and the 
 black dog, the loathed Melancholy " of Cerberus and blackest Mid- 
 night born." To commendation of the true he joins condenmation of 
 the false ; and by transferring his condemnation of a baseless joy to 
 the opening of that poem wJiich paints gravity of thoughtfulness, and 
 • his condemnation of a Stygian gloom io that poem which paints inno- 
 cent enjoyment, he heightens the effect of each poem by contrast, and 
 links the two together more completely. The poems are exactly 
 parallel in structure. — John Henry Morley. 
 
 65. "Dyak is a name given to the natives of the Island of Borneo. 
 
 66. Hldas is said to have been a wealthy but efiiminate king of 
 Phrygia. His wealth is alluded to in a story connected with his 
 childhood, for it is said that while a child, ants carried grains of 
 wheat into his mouth, to indicate that one day he should be the rich- 
 est of all mortals. 
 
 67. The Northern I^lght or the Aurora BorealiH is a 
 
 luminous phenomenon of great beauty, beheld in the northern sky. 
 It consists, when most brilliantly displayed, of a dark segment, bor- 
 dered by a luminous arch, which is subject to constant changes. Now 
 at onp extremity, and now at another, and again at intermediate 
 points, clouds oflight suddenly appear, and stream upward from the 
 arch like tongues of fire. These luminous streamers, glaring with 
 tints of crimson, yellow, and grv^en, move back and forth upon the 
 auroral bow, and, darting far up into the sky, with a tremulous 
 motion, apparently unite, forming a brilliant mass of light, called the 
 crown. It is supposed to be electric in its origin. 
 
 68. Hemp is the fibrous covering of a plant, and is used in 
 making cloth or cordage. 
 
 69. liinen is thread or cloth made from flux or hemp. 
 
 70. Reticule is a small bag to be carried in the hand. 
 
 71. The agaTe ox AmerlCiau aloe is a plant requiring from 
 ten to swvfintv veaiB to reach maturity. It. th"Ti 'sr^r'i.'npft a. ry'syan*.'." 
 
 flower-i 
 <'entur> 
 
 72. I 
 <he nial 
 
 'TO 1 
 
 was bor 
 up one c 
 at her c( 
 Campani 
 her of all 
 the same 
 
 74. V) 
 Barbatus 
 gacy and 
 not conce 
 mombera 
 lier fears ( 
 
 75. St. 
 
 It was at 
 fomposed. 
 Celestine J 
 
 76 Po] 
 
 77. Mea 
 used in tra 
 
 78. Oj^ 
 
 containing 
 
 79. He M 
 Florence, 1 
 graver to th 
 afterwards \ 
 de Medici, 
 and Medusa 
 
 80. Sou ( 
 
 J8 represent© 
 
HINTS. 
 
 355 
 
 "P one of the most proflilZ wo ' f n ^''''' '''''^"^^«' ^"^ Srew 
 at her conduct, banished troTZ: '"' '^^•. . ^"g"^^^-' ^"oensed 
 Ca.npan.a. Tiberius at h a cers'f ^"/h' 1" "^'"' ^•«' ^'^^ ^"«'^* ^^ 
 her of almost all the necessarTesT/rr *';«*^«»«(A.D. 14) deprived 
 the same year. '''''''^'^^' "^ ''fe, and she died in the course of 
 
 Barbatus,wasthethird^eoftt p'""''''" '' ^"'^'''"^ ^^^««ala 
 .-y and l-nt,ousne.ss ;:: otr :.s r U; ^^^t"'*"- ^^^ ^''^^'^■ 
 »ot concealed. She was as crue 1. «1 ''"'' "^ ^'''^"« ^^« 
 
 --borsofthen.ost illuJtn rf: d J rKr''°"'^ ' ^"* "^^"^ 
 her fears or her hatred. ^"""^ ^^^^« sacrificed to 
 
 ;omposed. It was held in J T, f ^'^^ " ^ail Mary " was 
 
 Celestinel. ''"""' ^■^^' ^'"'''ng the Pontificate of 
 
 P® Plus IX,, December 8, 1854. 
 
 and Mod,w." " '"""«'-l''«« '» a bronze group of " Pe„eus 
 80. Sou of sreDtnn«.«nj „,.„.,■. „ , 
 
 i ' 
 
 i 
 
 *l 
 
35fi 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 
 his forehead, caring nought for gods and devouring human lesh. 
 He dwelt in a cave near Mount ^tna. 
 
 81. Psyche.— This is a Greek word ar.u means the /imd, ami 
 obcures in the latter times of antiquity as a personification of tin 
 human soul. 
 
 82. Jupiter, the supreme deity of the Romans, was the great- 
 est of all the gods of classic mythology, and wiis supposed lo control 
 all eitrthly and human affairs and to forescf the future. He is 
 usually represented as seated on a throii«'. with a thunderbolt in his 
 right hand, in his life a sceptre, and near him his favorite bird, tlii' 
 eagk 
 
 83. Tenns, the goddess of love and beauty, in classic mythology, 
 was said to be the daughter of Jupiter. 
 
 84. Janus, an rr^iefit Latin deity, represented with two faces, 
 and was regarded v. '. > opener of the day and as having charge of 
 the gates of heave ; Tho temple of Janus ai Rome was kept open 
 in time of war anj i:';^.?M in time of peace. 
 
 85. Homer, tho ieputed author of the two great Epics, the 
 " Iliad " and the " Odyssey," and the most celebrated poet of ancient 
 times, was born at Smyrna or Chios, about one tho\isand before tin' 
 Christian era. The subject of the " Hiad " is the Trojan war ; that 
 of the "Odyssey" the search of Ulysses, the wise. The "Iliad i.s 
 perhaps the best epic poem ever written. 
 
BIOGEAPIIICAL SKET .ES. 
 
 ^Vn English author I, -o-flmlnflnf n. 
 
 ;«rs Johnson/. wUos?o\ttarj-';" 
 '""' style, familiar but not coarse tZ 
 
 hi« days «„d n,ght, ^ ^tud? „? 
 
 Addison." "He Is entitled," aavsMnl 
 «"lay." to bo considered, not on ;^r 
 
 Aaxoi,a, MATTHEW 
 
 Critlekm " » r. i. Assays In 
 
 vnticism, 'Culture and Anarchy" 
 •New Poems," will give the read.i « fair 
 idea of his writings. 
 
 ^ '^Wt^UOJ^r, ^OHAT JAMBS, 
 
 An Aiuerlcau ornithologist of Kreit 
 eminence; born i„ I.„lsfa„„. m.?;*; 
 
 ;;f "f'^'!»^^-- York Cily. Jan.: 
 an . ISol. He visited France 1 n 1828 and 
 ;7 'foei ved with great honor by Cu'vio 
 "umbolt, and other learned Jen He 
 
 -w^k^ tu^irji^-^tjs:;: 
 
 «^a- It IS illustrated with about four 
 
 STJ '""*r "' ""« thousand an,l 
 
 ;;?^t::!Sy:;S";;'^rr' 
 
 volumes. , ..vier said '• t is th« 
 One of Ihe greate,t comiK,™-, ' 
 
 «:-^::^^Sirfi'5 
 
 "ality and sublimity „fV;?;:i;^';-«'- 
 
 l»«OirjV«OA. OBBSIE8 AU 
 OU8TU8, 
 
 Undoubtedly the most ..mi 
 writer and thinker and erUic ofT'"''' 
 i'^a- was born, Stockbrid!! v """- 
 .September K, ms IZ l T"''^' 
 
 M.chigan,Ap;i,i;',3rH:.t'*r' 
 vjjed to the Catholic Faith ^JotrTo" 
 
 ;»0"ths Of his death. His^i'^Co^n^n- 
 Rapner" '<t>.» . .• rhe Spirit 
 
 been systematically arranued Z^u'" 
 
 by his distinguish^ soTC" lit 
 are a complete library in' tbemseivel^ 
 
.a5- 
 
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 ^S 1653 East Main Street 
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 ^= Phone: 716/482-0300 
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 C 1993, Applied Image, Inc., Alt Rights Reserved 
 
358 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 BUNTAIT, JOHN, 
 
 The celebrated author of " Pilgrim's 
 Progress," was born at Elstoii, near Red- 
 Tord, In England, 1628 ; and died, 1688. 
 " lie had no suspicion," says Macaulay, 
 " that he was producing a master-piece. 
 He could not guess what place his alle- 
 gory would occupy in English literature; 
 for of English literature he knew 
 nothing." The language is noted for its 
 simplicity and the great use of anglo- 
 sazon words. 
 
 BUEXS, ROBERT, 
 
 One of Scotland's greatest poets, was 
 liorn near the town Ayr, January 2.5, 
 1759; and died July 21, 1796. The most 
 striking characteristics of Burns' poetry 
 are simplicity and intensity. Some of 
 hisezpressions are like brilliant flashes of 
 light: in an instant the thought or sen- 
 timent is impressed upon the mind, 
 never to be forgotten. His iH>wer of 
 concentration is perfectly marvellous. 
 "Hiit political experiment," says Camp- 
 l)ell, " was that of fltfUl transports rather 
 than steady inspiration," "No poet," 
 says Scott, "except Shakespeare, ever 
 possessed the power of exciting the 
 most varied and discordant emotions 
 with such rapid transitions." He is 
 best known by his lyrics. Shakespeare 
 and Burns arc appreciated as much, if 
 not more, in Germany, than any of the 
 great bards of Fatherland. 
 
 BYRON, LORB, 
 
 (See George (iordon) 
 CUA IRA VBRIAND, RBNK A^ 
 
 One of the most eminent French au- 
 thors and writers, was born at Snlnt- 
 Mttlo, France, September 4, 17C8; and 
 die«l, July 4, 1848. The " Genius of 
 Christianity " which marks the conver- 
 sion of its noble author from skepticism 
 and infidelity, is the book upon which 
 his chief glory rests. For of all his 
 works, this had the happiest influence 
 upon liis age and country. The style is 
 
 charming and as limpid as the running; 
 brook at noon day. Among his other 
 works may be mentioned " Rene," " The 
 Martyrs," " Historical Studies," "F-ssays 
 on English Literature," a translation of 
 Milton's " Paradise Ixwt," " Memoirs 
 beyond the Grave," and "Atala." 
 
 CHAUCBR, OKOFFREY^ 
 
 The father of English poetry, was 
 born, 1328 ; and died, 1400. " Our great- 
 est poet of the middle ages, lieyond com- 
 parison," says Hallam, "was Chaucer; 
 and I do not know that any other coun- 
 try, except Italy produced one of equal 
 variety in invention, acutenessof observ- 
 ation, or felicity of expression." His 
 celebrated "Canterbury Tales" is an 
 immortal poem. His last will and test- 
 ament bespeak his deep religious feel- 
 ings, and his undying attachment to 
 Mother Chur<»h. 
 
 COLERIDGE, SAMUEL T,, 
 
 An eminent English writer, poet, 
 philosopher, and critic, w::.s born at 
 Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, 1772 ; and 
 died, July 23, 1834. His poetic fame 
 rests on two poems, both of singular, 
 almost supernatural power; yet one, 
 " Christabel," is only a fragment, the 
 other, the " Rime of the Ancient Mari- 
 ner," more nearly complete in itself, is 
 only a part of an incompleted whole. 
 Besides the works mentioned, his " I<eot- 
 ures on Shakespeare," " Essays on his 
 Own Time," " Table-Talk," " Biogrnphia 
 Literaria," and " Literary Remains," 
 are deserving of careful study. 
 
 COWLEY, ABARHAM, 
 
 An Englisli poet of some reputation, 
 born in Jjondon, 1C18; und died, 1CG7. 
 "The Mistress," .says Ilallani," is the 
 most celebrated i>erforniauco of miscall- 
 ed metaphysical poets." There is much 
 conceit and affectation in the ]>oems of 
 Cowley. His prose writings are more 
 simple and pleasing. "The Pindaric 
 Odes," " Davidics," and " Poetic Blos- 
 soms " are auoog his principal works. 
 
COWPBR, WILLIAM, 
 
 :i«*i"^**''*"""'"*"* """^ POP"'"'- «f Kng. 
 
 n^ • *\."!'*'^««8h''«. November 20 
 «7.U and died, Aprli 25. 1800. '< The Kr^t 
 •"•'"t Of a writer." «„y« r.onl TeK 
 "j.pe«r« to us to consist In tbeboIdnS 
 
 " "'^ f"'"'«"«te a„.l„oi,y with which he 
 '«« carrieil the don.ini,,,, of poetry i„ Jo 
 
 wcesslble to her ambition." Prominent 
 oned The T«8lc" and" John (Jilpin. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKKTOHES. 
 
 359 
 
 ; • "*^ l"-'n«<Pal worlcs are " Stens to 
 n.eTemple"a„d "Sacr*,! Vo.^^Z 
 hU> poem on the miracle of Ca^a. occur" 
 the .H-autiful and much admired ll^e 
 
 "1' '■'•*';!•« «J'«l'l«y a rich ImaKination 
 Hj^was Canon of the Church of'r.;!;';;- 
 
 reasonning unsurpassed, his imagination 
 ^wam „„, ,,il„„„t, and hlThuno 
 bo h mas,,,,, „ ..,.., ,^„^^.^ jj^ 
 
 wTr,„r, : >''^' oonversatioual 
 powers and varici stock of Information 
 
 ^BBZHAViy, OABaiBL.jt,, 
 
 at tr"*'T''"^''''''^t «'■«"<«"«. born 
 8tKa«an, iTWjnnddied i«ir iVT 
 
 ""rEBE.StHAIiBBEV 
 
 " Mnrp T.,.i .. *"«' waldonses."' 
 
 worL "■' " '™™«' «»rt oth;r 
 
 DANTB ALLIGniRBi, 
 
 An Illustrious Italian poet, regarded 
 - the greatest IKH.tlcalgen'h^sU.at";^.:! 
 HhedMwoen the Augustan and Eliza. 
 
 2«. and d ed at Ravenna. Sc-pt'em J; 
 •<, 1.1^1. He was instructeil in lil»ral 
 
 « "dies and arts by Rrunetto and litZ 
 ""! "»"«'• «"»'ncnt scholars, and was 
 
 Hi« DIvina Comcdia" i., „ ntas^ii 
 
 ,.iej..andforsui>llmayoftho„;,rS: 
 Hardly been equalled. 
 
 »« Ol//iVCr, THOMAa, 
 
 ™i_l« The Kngllth Opiun.-Ealer " was 
 !?•'"'" ••' ""b""-*' of Manchester. Auirust 
 l«.17M..anddie.lJ„ Edinburgh. ,):;^.t 
 
 THnity^co.ie::;kbt.rdtr.: 
 
 came a Roman Catholic. A „on J M 
 works are "Poems." "iri«h nS 
 "Alexander the Grea,. and "JtT^' 
 
 anofCanterbury.-twoS^mas .^S" 
 uresque Sketches of Greece „,"> i T 
 ey." and. .Constitutional","! J "'''- 
 ;""t«ona. Political Action "h'^TZ: 
 is remark„,„e for beauty and vigor Id 
 his subjects are nobleand full of «?..', 
 ed elevated thought. Hesl^: ^1:;;: 
 inherit«l a true dramatic spirit! 
 DICKBm, CHABLBa 
 
360 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 higher asp^t of morality, one in which 
 Catholic readers are Iwund to regard 
 every boolc which professes to deal with 
 the condition of man ; nud so rcga:^ed, 
 Mr. Diclcen's works are false as any 
 of those of the undisguised niaterialiBtio 
 writers of the day." 
 
 DBYDEy, JOHN, 
 
 A celebrated English Catholic poet 
 and critic, born at Aldwinckle, in North- 
 amptonshire, August 9, 1031 ; and died, 
 May 1, 1700. In reference to his satiro; 
 " Absaion and Architophel," Lallam 
 says : " The spontaneous ease of exj res- 
 sion, the rapid transition, the general 
 elasticity an<l movement, have never 
 been excelled." Macaulay says that 
 *' with him died the secret of tlie old 
 |>oetical diction of England,— the art of 
 producing rich efforts by familiar words. 
 Ho was an incomparable reasonner in 
 verse." Some critics esteem his "Ode 
 for St. Cecilia's Day " the finest ode in 
 the language. His " Hind and the Pan- 
 ther" is another remarkable illustration 
 of his power of reasoning and satire. 
 " Essay on Dramatic Poesy " merited for 
 him according to .Tohnson the title of 
 father of English criticism. 
 
 FREEMAN, EDWARD A., 
 
 An English historian, was born at 
 Horborne, 8tatfordsliire, 182a ; and died, 
 188(5. He published la^sldes other works, 
 "The History and Conquests of the 
 Saracens," "The History of Federal 
 Government," " History of the Norman 
 Conquest," probal)ly his l>est work, "Old 
 English History," and "The Ottoman 
 Power in Europe." 
 
 OOLDSMITH. OLIVER, 
 
 .\n eminent Irish poet and miscellan- 
 eous writer, was born at Pallas, in the 
 County liongfoni, 1728 ; and died, April 
 4, 1774. Speaking of tke comedy " She 
 stoops to Conquer," Dr. Johnson nid 
 that " ho knew of no cometly for many 
 years that had ansn^.cd 3u much the 
 great end of comedy— making an au- 
 
 dience merry." His style is easy, natur- 
 al, and gracefhi. He is the author of 
 the " Chinese .Letters," " The Vicar of 
 WakeHeld," " The Traveller, " " The 
 I>esorte«l Village," aud the " History of 
 the Earth and Aninated Nature." 
 
 GORDON, OBOBOB, 
 
 An English poet of rare genius, l>orn 
 in I.,ondon, .January 22, 1788; and died 
 at Missolonglin April 19, 1824. Byron 
 was the first poet of his time. ' Never 
 has any writer," nays Macaulay, "fo 
 vast a command of the whole eloquence 
 of scorn, misanthropy and despair. .. 
 From manioc lauKhter to piercing 
 lamentation, there is not a single note 
 of human anguish of which he was not 
 master." Unfortunately his dissipated 
 life, want of faitli and the moral virtues 
 detract much from his works. Among 
 his best works a'c "Childe Hciold," 
 " Maiizeppa," "Monfred,""The Giaour," 
 ((nfldel,) "Cain a Mystery," and "Don 
 .Tuan." 
 
 OOaSE^ PHILIP H., 
 
 An English naturalist, bom at Wore 
 ler, 1810. He made a scientific \ 
 through Canada, the United States anu 
 Jamaica, and published on hi«i return 
 "The Canadian Naturalist," " The Birds 
 of Jamaica,"and a"Naturalist's .Sojourn 
 ill Jamaica." The style of Gosse is 
 dear and pleasing, atid the enthusiasm 
 of the scientist pervades every page of 
 his writings. 
 
 ORAT,JOHN H, 
 
 Was for many years a resident of 
 China. His style is pleasing. Hisprin- 
 cipal work " China " is accurate. 
 
 ORAT^ THOMAS^ 
 
 A classic English ]K>et, liorn in Tendon, 
 1716; and died, July, 1771, He occupies 
 a very high rank in I^nglisli literature, 
 not only as a poet, b>it as an etegsnt 
 prose writer and an accompliBbed sehol- 
 
 Tr- -3-11— fc.* — 1 1... U— 1..J 4U«. 44~ 
 
 own sake, and his prolbund and varied 
 
earning emhraced, in «ldltiou to class- 
 ical .nd scientliic studies, those of anti- 
 'Htltiesandthe line art,. HI, ",' 
 
 poem Is the "Elegy." '^'^ 
 
 OJtlFfiy, GBBALD, 
 
 A distlngulshe.! writer and poet, was 
 born at LI,„riolc, 1803; and died, 1840. 
 
 Christian Brother. Had he not been 
 carried otT at ..n early „ge, we mSl 
 
 Iw '^'*' '■™"' '"'"^'•' ''«'-k»offhe 
 
 The Collegians,"" The Tnvasion." "The 
 
 nuke or Monmouih," « Tales of Muuster 
 
 Festivals." The Rivals."„„d"pj;: 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 361 
 
 filceand Note, to Shakespean, " «nd 
 the"L ves 01 the British PoST.^'-^ 
 «'>««"i.-.««.uehadM,ired work. "T^ 
 
 R.mblerandIdler»onceexertodaKre«t 
 Influence, and we may say d<H* in r 
 measure, even now. ^^ *'«'-. «n a 
 
 inrifTfi, WAsuixoToy, 
 
 A distinguished American author and 
 humorist, was Urn in the City of New 
 ^ork, April H, 178.3; and died <.t Sunny- 
 side, on the Huds^.n, November 28, 1859 
 for an easy elegantic style, he has no 
 superior, perhaps no equal, among the 
 ITose writers of America. If Hawthorne 
 excels him I„ variety, in earnest nws and 
 in force, he is perhaps inferior to him in 
 fac llJy and grace, while he can make no 
 da m to that genial, lambent humor 
 which beams .n almost every page of 
 'Geoffrey Crayon." He has beeHptry 
 styled the Goldsmith of America. iZ 
 works comprise twenty-six volumes. 
 
 JOUmON, SAMUBL, 
 
 One of the most eminent English 
 writers, was born at Lltchflohi. Septem- 
 '*rl8 17()9; and died, 1784. He was 
 great i« all the branches of literature to 
 which he devoted his attention. Few 
 men have exerted so great an influence 
 while living, an infiisence which will 
 probably be felt far into the future His 
 imvers which arechiefly descriptive and 
 satirical, have been gready admired by 
 someof the most eminent critics. Byron 
 says of the " Vanity of Human Wishes • " 
 TIs a great poem, all the examples and 
 "'•-X36 of giving iheui sublime.' His 
 most important critical works are " Pre- 
 
 'foyaoy, ben, 
 
 <>»« of the most celehrate.1 English 
 1HH..S and dramatists, was born at West- 
 ;»i..s.er. 1.-.74 ; and died. mi. in« saH 
 thatwhil,;hewasl„prL„„.J;„!»f 
 
 verted to the Catholic FaithUnttlX" 
 subsequently fell again. • I think hhn " 
 
 C""7*'-"«f7»'«e"«ny theatre ever 
 had. . If I would compare hin, to Shake- 
 "Peare, I must acknowledg,. him iZ 
 
 fathJI" ?''."''«''P««'^'vasthe Homer or 
 ♦reVir^/r""""^"-^- -^on-nwas 
 nl 7 : :' """•''■" "'•'"^"^•rate writ- 
 ings. Indmirehim. butlloveShake- 
 H-'and-Cate.ircr'conspi'rly'f'";: 
 was the poet-laureate ih LXn"f 
 James i. Ke was also probably the first 
 author of H„ ji„g,i«a (irummar. 
 
 KSOWLBS, JAMES 8., 
 
 T^ ^^"H" dramatist, corn at Cork 
 In^anV 1784; and died, 1862. His prin- 
 
 Crm T.'l'' ■"•" ' '^'"« f^hevulicr de 
 Cri^^n,. -Leo the Glpsey,'. " V.rgi„,„«,» 
 ^^Caius Gracchus." and "The Hunch- 
 
 LBIBSITZ, OATTPRIBD WIZ. 
 HELM voir, 
 
 A German philosopher and mathe- 
 
 alln ?H "r "^^ '"^''' l'nM,ml.K.„t 
 among the m„,]crns as a universal genius 
 
 died at Hanover, November 14. 1716 
 
 He was a truly religious mind. Between 
 
 e^andKOOhewasengagedin :::; 
 
 brateJ Bossuet. the eagle of M^jTt 
 tl.ep„rposeof,«rtoringthe„^ty^' 
 
362 
 
 HIQHKU REAPER. 
 
 tweeii the CKtholic and ProtMtent 
 Churched. ThU gave riiie t» HoMiiet's 
 well-known " IliHtory of the Variations 
 of ProteaUnt Churrhen." I^lbniU, ■Im- 
 nltaneoiiitljr with Newton, was tlie dis- 
 roverer of CalouliiR. The crowning worlc 
 ofthis great thinlccr wiiN his " Hy^tonia 
 Theologiciini." It is, a8 It were, the 
 miniinnof hif* iihiloRophiral |irincipieii. 
 In nianv inxtiinceti hu HjiealCH In a cliarni- 
 ing and truthftil manner of Catholic 
 doctrines. 
 
 LOKGFKLLOir. HKSHT IF., 
 
 An eminent Aniericun poet and schol- 
 ar, born at Portland, Maine, Fehniary 
 27, 1807 i and diwl at Can»l)ridgt% Mass- 
 achusetts, March 24, 1882. As a poet, he 
 IS characterized by tcndcrnew and depth 
 oi feeling, to the expression of which the 
 plcture8<|ue and graceful siniplictty of 
 Ills language often imparts an indescrili- 
 able charm. Heseldom or never attempts 
 to excite admiration by far-sought con- 
 ceits, by wild or lofty flights of iniagi- 
 nition, or by the exhibition of dark and 
 terrible passions. Among his liest works 
 are " RTangcline," " Hiawatha," " Hy- 
 Iterion," a scholarly translation of Dan- 
 te's " nivina CoHKHlia," and " Tales of a 
 Wayside Inn." 
 
 LUBBOCK, HIB JOHN, 
 
 An English banker and eminent phy- 
 sicist, was iMtrn In IH.'Vi. Ii«<Mides his 
 several scientiflc memoirs, he is the 
 author of two im|>ortant works, " Pi-e- 
 historic Times," and the "Origin of 
 Civili«ation;"or "The Primitive Con- 
 dition of Man." He ikosscsses a charm- 
 ing style. 
 
 MALIBRAy^ MADAME, 
 
 The celebrated singer, was born in 
 Paris, 1808 and died, IS.-)*?. AVhilo she 
 was still very young liej reputation as a 
 singer extcndinl over Europe, and siie 
 was everywhere received with the gntat- 
 ^t enthu^iiV!!!: The aduiinition w'hich 
 she r;'on as a i-ocalist, was increasetl by 
 
 the many kind acts done by her In priv- 
 ate life. 
 
 MABaHALLf THOMAS W. M„ 
 
 An English theological writer, liorn, 
 1815; and die«l at Hurbiton, Surrey, l>o- 
 cemtter 14, 1877. In IH4.'i, he liecame a 
 Roman Catholic, and in his " Comedy of 
 Convocation "and " My Clerical Friends 
 and their Relations to .McHlern Thought," 
 he shownl himself a vigorous writer and 
 satirist. Hut hU "Christian Missions" 
 is univerxally n>ad an admin-d. 
 
 MA KTtNKA V, MA BBtKT, 
 
 An English miscellaneous writer, Iwrn 
 at Norwich, 1802 ; and died, .lane 27, 1871!. 
 She was di>scende<l from a French Hu- 
 guenot family, and in s<mie instances 
 allows her prejudice to swny her lietter 
 sense of ft^eling. Among his works we 
 find " Biographical .Sketches,' " Life in 
 a Sick Rwmi," "The Hour and the Man," 
 " Ret rosiMHt of Western Travel,'" "Society 
 in America,'* and Traditions of Pales- 
 tine." She was a writer of some force 
 and keen observation, 
 
 MA UBT, MA TTHK W F., 
 
 An Amerit^an hydrographer, and naval 
 officer, was Imrn at Hpottsyvalnia coun- 
 ty, Virginia, 180<}; and die<l, 1878. He 
 published a " Treatise on Navigation," 
 " letters on the Amaxon and the Atlant- 
 ic Slo|)es of South Amcricii," " Relation 
 lietween Magnetism and tlic Circulation 
 of the Atmosphere," " Astronomical 0I>- 
 servations," and a " Physical tieography 
 of the Sea," a work which has lM>en high- 
 ly praised by coniiietent judges. 
 
 MILTON, .JOHN, 
 
 An immortal |)oet, and if we except 
 Shakes|M.>urc, the mowt illustrious name 
 in English literature, was liorn in Bread 
 Street, I^indun, December ti, 1GU8; and 
 died, Novemlter 8, 1074. " It Iscertain," 
 says Hume, " that this author, when in 
 a happy mood and employed in a noble 
 
 Kijlijects i"^ (h-> most wonderfully Kulilime 
 
 of any isiet in any language, Homer and 
 
BrOGRAPirrCAL skktchks. 
 
 LiicreHu. «„d T«t.w notcxceptwl. Mow 
 concise n.:,,! Ifoinor. more Mii.pio than 
 T.MO. moro norvoMs .h«„ Lucretius, had 
 he Ived i„ a later age «„,l learnell to 
 P>li«h Home rudeness in hi, versen, had 
 
 ho e^ioyed better .ortune and po«;«ied 
 hj-ure to wateh the returns of Konlualn 
 W.n.*o If. he had attalne.1 the pinnacle of 
 perfection and horn away the palm /of 
 epic poetry..- rhatoauhrland says: 
 lr«,u the very opening of the poem. 
 Milton declan* himaelf a Soclnlan by 
 • he famous expression "till one greater 
 man restores us ! " MUton seems to In- 
 clinetoArlanlsm. Still his " Paradise 
 Lost" will ever Ihj re«J with pleasure 
 and admiration. 
 
 JTEWMAK, jrOHJf HENRY 
 CARDINAL, ' 
 
 Was born In Undon. 1801. He is an 
 
 English divines of the present day His 
 eminent abilities as a thinker and a 
 writer are reeogni^e.1 t^jually by those 
 who dissent from his opinions and those 
 who agree with him. As a writer of the 
 mother tongne, Cardinal Newman is 
 perhaps unsurpassed for ea.se and grace' 
 of expression, and for general purity of 
 «tyle Ills life and writings, while of 
 deep literary Interest, constitute, In their 
 theological asp««t, an era in the history 
 of opinion of a considerable part of the 
 £<nglish-s|>eaking race. 
 
 O'LICART, CORNELIUS M., 
 
 A contemporary writer of some force 
 WHS born In the County Cork. Ireland,' 
 im He Is the esteemed professor of 
 I hllosophy at Manhattan College, New 
 York, and is a regular contrlbutor'lothe 
 leading magazines of the country. 
 
 I'ARKMAN, ERANCIS, 
 
 An American writer, Iwrn at Boston, 
 182:1 His principal works are "History 
 of the Conspiration of Pontiac," "The 
 Old Kegime of Canada," "The Plnnsvrs 
 of France in the New World," "The 
 Jesuits in North America." "Count 
 
 363 
 
 Frontenae and New France under Ix.nis 
 XIV.," and " Montcalm and Wolfe -- 
 Ills works have enjoyed a great and de- 
 served jiopularity. 
 
 J'OE^ ED^AR ALLAN, 
 
 An American poet of soraegenius, w«h 
 
 i^:" '">'i»".'«»;«nd dlS In Balti- 
 more, Octoht.r, 7, 1849. His "Haven" 
 
 «iul other small p,M?ras have In^n much 
 
 Jriswold.-- are constructe,! with wonderi 
 ful Ingenuity and finished wltl.consum- 
 ma e art. They Illustrate a mortid 
 onsltiveness of feeling, „ shadowy and 
 
 o^^Z '''* "PP-^l'^n^'on of that sort 
 of beauty most agreeable to his temper." 
 
 ''OPE, ALEXANDER, 
 
 A popular English ,K,et and critic, 
 
 in May ,744. " Hewa8,"say,Macaulay, 
 agreatwrlteroflnvectlveandsarcasm 
 He could dissect a character In terse and 
 sonorous couplets brilliant with anti- 
 thesis." His talent for satire is conspic- 
 uous In the " Dundad," a poetical work 
 of much critical merit. He and Dryden 
 were Instrumental In bringing a revolu- 
 t on In iwetry i„ the beginning of the 
 e «h teen.h century. They swaye.1 the 
 weptre throughout that century. Pope 
 was a complete master of the ,«etlc arV 
 lie lived and dieil a Uoman Catholic. 
 His principal works are the 'Kssay on 
 Man," " Kssay on Criticism," "Pastor- 
 a«," "Messiah," the translation of 
 Homer's Ullad. 
 
 X'KESCOTT, WILLIAM H., 
 
 An eminent American historian, born 
 at halem, Massachusetts, May 3 17%. 
 and died, .lanuary 28, xm. His merits 
 aa an historian are of the highest order 
 In vigor of thought and In grandeur of 
 sty e he has undoubtedly been surpass- 
 ed by many of the great masters of his- 
 torical composiliou ; but he possessed 
 other qualities, which. If less Imposing 
 are far more essential to the character 
 
364 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 of ■ perfect hiiitorian. Hin prinripal 
 works are ** History of Ferdiiiniid and 
 IsnlKtlln," " Conquest of Mexico," " Con- 
 quest of Peru," " History of the Reign of 
 Philip II., of Spain," and his book of 
 " Mlscellunles." Though noted for re- 
 search and Impartiality, It must be stated 
 that he dors not always represent the 
 CuthoHo side of the question with an 
 uuprejudi(!ed mind. 
 
 ROSSKTTI, ItANTR (iAHRIKL, 
 
 An KngUsh pnlnter and poet, born iu 
 London, 1828 ; and died, April 11,1882. 
 He was the leader of the movement call- 
 ed The Raphael Itisin, an attempt to 
 revive the Italian school of parasites who 
 preceded Raphael. He produced " The 
 Early Italian Poets, from Cuillo d'Alca- 
 mo to Dante," a series of translations in 
 the original meters, and original "Bal- 
 lads and other Poems." He won distinc- 
 tions OS a ]>ainter and poet, although he 
 used his )H!n mure etTectively than the 
 brush. 
 
 UVSKiy, ,TOHN^ 
 
 An English artist and eminent writer, 
 on art and nature, was born in Ixindon, 
 February ,1814. He is probably the great- 
 est art-critic of England. There is a 
 deep vein of religious feeling ])ervadlng 
 all his writings. His principal works 
 are " Modern Painters," " The Stones ot 
 Venice," "The Ethics of the Dust,'' 
 "The Crown of Wild Olives," "The 
 Queen of the Air," " Frondes Agvestes," 
 and " Arrows of the Cbace." He some- 
 times allows his prejudice against Ca- 
 tholicism prevail against his l)etter feel- 
 ings. " Mr. Ruskin," said Charlotte 
 Hronte, " seems to me one of the few 
 genuine writers, as distinguished from 
 book-makers of this age." 
 
 H^Ay, THE REV. ABRAM J., 
 
 An American Catholic poet and writ- 
 er, was born in Virginia, 1840 and died, 
 SHG. Among his works are, " Poems '" 
 and " A Crown to our Queen." There is 
 
 an underlying current of iiensiveiiess in 
 nearly all his poems. 
 
 aAXB, joHs aoitfRKr, 
 
 A distinguished American humorous 
 poet, born In Franklin Co., Vermont, 
 181A. He excels in light, easy verse, and 
 In unexpccted,lf not absolutely punning, 
 turns of expression. In the general style 
 and effect of certain of his comic pieties 
 he strongly reminds one of Thomas 
 Hood. Prominent among his poems 
 are "Progress," "The Money King," 
 "Rhyme of the Rail," "The Flying 
 Dutchman," and " The Proud Miss 
 McBride." 
 
 HCHILUBR^JOHANN CHRIST- 
 OPH F., VOX, 
 
 An eminent German poet and author, 
 born at Marbach, in Wurtenilmrg, 1759, 
 and died at Weimar, 1805. His l)est 
 worksare"Wallen8tein," "Mary .Stuart," 
 "The Maid of Orleans," "The Brigands," 
 "The Affianced." The beauty of Schil- 
 ler's writings consists in the natural- 
 ness of cliaracters, truthfulness of de- 
 scription, power and grace of sentiment, 
 choice of language, the animation of the 
 dialogues and brilliancy of imagination. 
 
 SCHLEGBL, KARL V., VON, 
 
 An eminent German scholar and writ- 
 er and philosopher, was born at Hanov- 
 er, March 10, 1772 ; and died at Dresden, 
 1829. His first important work was 
 " Greeks and Romans." In 1808, he was 
 converted to the Catholic Faith, and 
 then removed to Vienna. There he 
 delivered several courses of his scholar- 
 ly lectures, as " Lectures on the Philoso- 
 phy of History," " Lectures on the Phi- 
 losophy of Lite." lie wrote a " History 
 of Ancient and Modern Literature." 
 He did inuoti to inspire his countrymen 
 with a renewed energy for their religion, 
 and succeeded in forming a nucleous of 
 literary men who did much toward the 
 iiitcHeC'tttal drTclupiiiciii of youug men. 
 His was a great mind. 
 
BIOORAPHIUAL SKETC'HKS. 
 
 aOOTT, SIR WAZTMSR, 
 
 A celcbnited novelist and poet, was 
 born ill MinbufKh August 16 1771 . 
 and dle<l .,( Al.b<.»8ford September 21' 
 ISJtt. Anions those writers )( whatever 
 country or nge. who have suceesMully 
 attempted the delineation of character 
 Scott may j„.t|j. elulm to stand In the' 
 foremost rank. '■ sir Walt..,- Soott " 
 
 «y.sawrlter.'dldforli,e.,.t..re. what 
 ShBkcs,H,aro did for the drama." He 
 ha. orten In^n calletl, on attount of his 
 marvellous ,H,wer of creating ilh.Mons. 
 he (.reat Enchanter." Among hiJ 
 principal works are '< Waverly," ««j"' 
 Mannering...,i,„,,h^.,,..^^,,,,^^^^^ j; 
 
 The Talisman," "The Monastery,- 
 Tale «. a Grandfather," " L„dy ^tl^^ 
 
 The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." 
 SHAKBat'RARK, WILLIAM, 
 
 poets ofanyajce or country was born at 
 Strutford^n-Avon, April 2.1 i.i«4 was 
 
 mav.i.T ?r:: '"""•' ""««««^'- "'•'«'«"' 
 
 nay detect In the plays of Shakespeare 
 the characters themst-lves will ever re- 
 main as embodiments of the most won- 
 derlnl ,HK!tic imagination. In the back- 
 ground of all lie, the p,K,t', wonderful 
 «tjle, his way of looking «t things and 
 expressing himself. There is no other 
 
 ilfln"*.'" •'"' "^* resoaibles It. 
 Its peculiarity does not consist so much 
 
 •n an exact use or arrangement of words, 
 although no writer ever used or .arranged 
 aTshT "'■'•"""•«"'"y. «« in a pecJll. 
 
 "Si V!,'T''^""P"y«'y'«^the 
 myriad-minded" poet and philosopher 
 
 that there s sufficient internal evidence 
 n his works to warrant the statement 
 that he was a Catholie. 
 
 365 
 
 SMRLUer, I'ICHCT JtrSBBK. 
 
 FMA lT-*"™i ^'"^"'"' ^' ""^ bora at 
 Field Place, Sussex August 4, 1792 and 
 
 dle.l....ly8,,822. Hels.ofall Kngllsh 
 ^ !.' "!;:»•"«»/"■ *"'"«'»«'1«" andsensl- 
 
 lhe( loud-areaspure, as,«et|cal 
 and as elevate<l as any similar ,MH.try 1„ 
 
 works are " Prometheus Inbound," ■' V- 
 
 laster. or the Spirit of Solitude," " Queen 
 
 M:...." " The Hevolt of Islam,.' and u,; 
 tend," a tragedy. 
 
 SOUTHWELL, ROBERT^ 
 
 An Eiglish Catholic iK,et,lK,n, In l.v»» 
 
 He was prefect of the English Jesuits- 
 Col ege In Rouen, an.l was afterwards 
 «ent a missionary to England. He was 
 a V ct m to the persecuting laws of the 
 period. He was executed in \m, in the 
 reign of Qui.,„ Elizabeth. Be„ Jo„«„„ 
 
 «ays of this selection that It is so well 
 
 written that he could destroy many of 
 Ills own. ' 
 
 SOVVBSTRR, BMILB, 
 
 A French writer and a Journalist of a 
 high reputation. lH.rn at Morlaix, In 
 
 Brittany 1806: and died inraris, 1854. 
 He was the associate e.litorof the well- 
 known periodical, the " Revue .Its 
 deux Mondes." Among his best ,,„^ 
 due Ions, many of which 8p,H«re<l flrst 
 " ""^ tef'nK P-'-'^'an journals, we may 
 
 name The Confessions of a workman." 
 
 1 erreet Jean," "Travels In l.iniste;. 
 
 e" and " Le Philosophe sous les tolts." 
 
 His works are highly commended for 
 
 their moral purity. 
 
 SfRNSBR, BDMVXD, 
 
 An illustrious English poet, was born 
 U. East Smithfield, London. ,5,W; a, ; 
 dle,l,lo!«». "He threw the soul," ,„y« 
 
 tumpMI.-ofhannony Into our veril 
 and made it more warmly, teuderlv and 
 magnificently descriptive than It ever 
 was before, or with « few exeeotio.i- 
 man U has ever been since. His '" Fairv' 
 Queen' i« his in„„„rta. poem and pl„c2 
 him among the iKHJts ol the flrst order. 
 
366 
 
 IirOIIKR RKADKR. 
 
 aWKTCBtNB, aOPBIA A, 
 
 A RiiMiRii lady nnil writer, Irani at 
 Monfoir, I7.S2; Hiiil (Uo»l, In Parln, S«pt- 
 oinlter 10, 1M7. She removed to I'nrlii in 
 1810, l>"tamo a ItouiBU Cutholic, and was 
 dlHlinKuiMhed by her |met]r and talent*. 
 
 TKSNraoy, alfrkd. 
 
 The iMiet laureate of England, wan 
 liorn In Uoniiuerly, 180ii. " It iiecnis to 
 nio," nay Clarence Htednmn, "that the 
 only JuHt estimate of Tennyson's jiosi- 
 tion Ih th(it which declares him to be, by 
 eminence the representative poet of the 
 recent era ; not. like one or anotherof his 
 com|ie«rs, representative of the melody, 
 wisdom, passion, or other partial phase 
 of the era, Imt of the time Itself, with its 
 diverse elements in Iiarmonloiis eon- 
 Junction." His princi|Ml poetical works 
 are " The Princess," " Locksley Hall," 
 " In memorian," " Idylls of the King," 
 "Morte d'Arthur," and "Mand and 
 other Poems." His recent |ioeuis are 
 certainly inferior. 
 
 THOMSON, JAMES, 
 
 An Kngllsh ]>oet, bom in Roxburgh- 
 shire, .Scotland, 1700; and died, 1748. 
 CamplwII observes : " The unvarie<I 
 lionip of Thomson's diction suggests a 
 most unfavorable comparison with the 
 manly and Idiomatic simplicity of C'ow> 
 per; at the same time, the |>ervading 
 spirit and feeling of his |>oetry is in gen- 
 eral more bland and delightful than that 
 of his great rival in rural description." 
 Hfcj princiiml works are " The Seasons;" 
 bis tragedies ' .S)phontsba," " Agomeni- 
 nou," and ' Edward and Eleancra," 
 and his ])oem.s ' Lilmrty" and ' Castle 
 of Indolence." 
 
 TBEyCH, RICHARD C, 
 
 An eminent English ecclesiastic and 
 philologist and Protestant Arcliblshopof 
 Dublin was born. 1807 ; and died 1887. 
 His principal works are " The .Story of 
 Jitstjn Martyr," a 'mjoui. " 1''.m?!!>s froni 
 Eastern Sources," " Uenoveva," " On tiie 
 
 Study of Wonis,' ami* l^iureson Me- 
 dUeval History.'* 
 
 TWAIN, MARK, (.Samuel L. Clem- 
 ens,) 
 
 Was Iwrn at Florida, Missouri, No- 
 vember:tO, 18.r., His work* are all hu- 
 morous. His " Innocents .Vltnmd, • 
 "Roughing It," " IJfeon the .MIs«iH»l|». 
 pi ; " aiul, a story ond drama eacli called 
 " The (iildcd Age" wen- written by him 
 In (-onjunctioii with CharU's Dudley 
 Warner. 
 
 TYNDALL, ,rOH», 
 
 A •llstinguished physicist, liorn In Ire- 
 land alMHit IS20. He has done much for 
 Bcieuce. His works on " Light ' " Elec- 
 tricity," " Sonnd," " Heat," " ihe Forms 
 of Water in Clouds and Rivers, Ice an<l 
 tilaciers," are considered as standards. 
 However his views on Religion are not 
 sound and are tinge«l with materialism 
 and evolutionism. His style is pleasing. 
 
 WALLAVK, ALVRKD R., 
 
 An eminent English naturalist and 
 biologist, Iwrn at Usk, in Monmouth- 
 shire, .lanuary 8, 182a. His prindpiil 
 works are "Travels on the Amaxon and 
 Hi() Negro," " Pulm Tre«-s of the Ama- 
 zon," " The Malay Archi|M'laf;<>," "Geo- 
 graphical Distribution of Aninuils," 
 "Tropical Nature," "Island Life," and 
 "Australasia." He strongly inclines 
 to evolutionism. 
 
 WARBVRTON, WILLIAM^ 
 
 An eminent rnglisli writer, was Iwrn 
 ut Newark, December 2.1, 1698 ; and died, 
 at Glouchestcr. June, 1770. "He was," 
 says Dr. Johnson, "a man of vigorous 
 faculties, a mind fervid and vehement, 
 supplied tiy incessant and unlimited in- 
 quiry, with a wonderful extent and 
 variety of knowledge, which yet had not 
 oi)pre8sc<l his imagination or clouded his 
 pei-spicttcity." Among his works are 
 " The Divine rx>gation of Moses demon- 
 stnited," and a ' Critics! and Phjl.-jw-.- 
 phicfll Inquiry into the Causes of I'ro- 
 
BroaRAPHICAL SKKTCHES. 
 
 I urea on Me> 
 
 lel L. <'leiii> 
 
 HHt'""''*'''"''''"""'"'"''^''*' "'•'•''- 
 
 W 
 
 WKBSTKR^ ItANIKL, 
 
 A celol.nited Amorlo,,,, »Ihi«.,„„„, j„. 
 
 HHt and orator. «ru« Ik,,.,..., SnUHbury. 
 New H.„„,H,|,|re, January ,H, I7W; «... 
 JIjHl ai Man.h«el.l. iH-.o^:, ,,. '.^^ 
 
 ever liv«| i„ „... WoMien. I ,|h,,Iu..<. 
 
 Krun.l and |H)w..rf.,| ,|,„„ eiiher.'. ir«|. 
 »«"• »«yMof hi,.,: " He approaehi.. ,« 
 
 nearly... the .M.„u-,dea|..i?H re Slil 
 2o™o.«»a,.y,.,«„ „.a, I have eve,- 
 
 Itomo or Venice, rather than of ou. 
 noisy and wrangling generation." 
 WHETE, UKNRY KIRK, 
 
 Ar Knglhh ,K,et, Imrn at Nottl„gh«,n, 
 178.5 and died In (u.,„,K,r. I8(„i. Ah u 
 «hlla he y>m ren.arkal.io for |.rtH.H..||y of 
 . telle.;, ar.d .lUtinguUhetl hiinself by 
 '"" «y«"""ent8 In the ancient and mod- 
 ern language*. ,u,.»u, a„d „„,urai«,i. 
 
 T^- "'" '^"'"'"eofl'oetry.entltM 
 
 I fton t.rove" was severely crltlsiwHl 
 
 "y thcUndon Monthly Hevlew that It 
 
 «ffecte,l his health. His best known 
 
 l>i«H-es are "The Star of Bethlehem." 
 
 loan narly Primrose," "Song of the 
 
 Consu„.,,.ive, - and "Savoyard's He- 
 
 turn." 
 
 M»racllo.:, was torn at .S-viJie, s,ml„ 
 
 ,^"r,=''''^-''«"«««»«i.Kehr.;«ry,.,; 
 
 .Tw ." r"" '■""'^*™»«« Archblshoi, 
 or Westminster. I.„„d„„, ,8.v», and 
 
 ;in?"M?'- '""•""'"'""•""" ""«'•' 
 •1 ot Archbishop of Westminster ,„et 
 
 witli Kit'Hl op.K.sltlon fiom the Protest- 
 
 ""•«lnKnKla„d,andun«,twaspasm.l 
 '"Hklug such titlw |«,nal. This wan the 
 • e-eslablNhmentoflhe Kngllsh Hlerar- 
 ••'•y. ""I'HIy I he great learning, talents, 
 ami general |K.,.»larlty .lid ,.,„t|, to 
 "I ay the hostility of his o|,|K>i.enls. His 
 |.r ...• pal wo,ks are " UnCres on the 
 e at on In-tweeu .S.|e„eo and Heveal«l 
 lellglon," •• Trimlls*. on the H.,|y k„. 
 ch.„l8t," " letters on (atnollc t'l.ity " 
 • Hifollectlonsorthe I^nt Fonr Po|h,m'" 
 "The Ceremonies of Holy Week " lie 
 was un.,„estionably „„« „f the ablest 
 •nen of this centnry, and wa« noted for 
 Ills brilliant and learnwl controversy. 
 
 WORmwORTU, WILLIAM, 
 
 niLLIS, NATHASIBL P., 
 
 A distli>gul8hed American poet and 
 
 niiscellaneons writer, born at Portluiid 
 
 Maine, KS«7; and died January, imi. 
 
 HlsiK,etry Is musical in structure and 
 
 •lollcatein sentiment. Among bis l«.8t 
 
 works are " Pencillings by the Way," 
 
 Inkling.s by the Way,-. " Famous Pe^ 
 
 sons and Places,"' .Scriptural Poe.ns" 
 
 and " I^dy Jane." 
 
 WISBMAS, NICHOLAS, CAR. 
 DIIfAL, 
 
 A distinguished linguist and theo- 
 logian, st^holar and author, of Knglish 
 
 An illustrious English ,w«t, torn at 
 f ockenaouth. i„ Ciuntorland. April 17 
 1770; and die<i at Rydal Mount, on Uke 
 Windennere. April 23, im. His i^etrv 
 Is .•emarkable as evincing' an exquisite 
 sensibility of the beauties of nature u„. 
 der every form: and one result of this 
 mental p . , .rfty was that neaily all 
 his iK)ems ere, as he tells us. composed 
 in the oiKJu air. " He was more origin- 
 al and philosophical than any of his 
 conlennwraries, a«o he has sent forth 
 strains that recall the genius of Milton." 
 Many critics are of opinion that his 
 future rank and position as a iHK't, will 
 be with Milton. His principal worksare 
 'The excursion," "The I'relude," "Peter 
 Bell," "Lyriwii Ballads," and a book of 
 "Sonnets." 
 
 TOUSG, an WARD, 
 
 An eminent English poet, torn at 
 
 at Wellwyn, April, 1765. In his "Night 
 Thoughts," says Dr. Samuel Johnson, 
 
.3(58 
 
 IIIOHER RKAItKn. 
 
 "ha hu «xhllilted urerjr wld« dtipUr 
 of original |ioeir]r, vnrlegatetl irilh deep 
 reflecltonN and MrlkfnK nlUntlonn.— a 
 wlldern«M of thoutfht, in wliicli ili« 
 ft*rtliitx or fHUcjr K-at(crs Muwen of 
 
 eTery hue and eTerjr odor." Upon 
 thia poem reaU the fame of YotuiK. 
 He haa written other iNiema, tiut llit-y 
 are unhappily marred hy a falae taate 
 and a liouilNiiitic- atyle. 
 
 ■« *m •- 
 
INDEX TO AUTHORS. 
 
 Addison, John, 142. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, 23. 
 
 Audubon, Jofin Jame.s. 
 267. 
 
 Brownson, Orestes Au- 
 gustus, 232. 
 BUNYAN, John, 156. 
 Burns Robert, 176. 
 Byron, Lord, 55, 127. 
 
 Chateaubriand, Rkne 
 A., 65, 135. 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel, T., 
 86, 305. 
 
 Cowley, Abraham, 281. 
 Cowper, William, 154. 
 Crashaw, Richard, 217. 
 Dante Allighieri, 161. 
 De Quincy, Thomas, 30. 
 Derzhavin, Gabriel R 
 100. 
 
 De Vere, Sir Aubrey 
 
 CT 
 
 71. 
 
 De Vere, Thomas Au- 
 HKEV, 819. 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 57, 79. 
 Drydex, John, 290. 
 Freeman, Edward A 
 286. 
 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, 288. 
 
 GossE, Philip H., 104. 
 
 Gray, John H., ^2d. 
 
 Gra\ , Thomas, 259. 
 
 Griffin, Gerald, 159 
 281. 
 
 Irving, Washington, 275. 
 Johnson, Samuel. 146 
 JONSON, Ben, 215. 
 Keon, Milks Gerald, 
 
 812. 
 Knowles, James S., 301. 
 Leibnitz, Gottfried W. 
 
 Von, 213. 
 
 •" £-i-i-v/v\, niiiVKY W., 
 
 15, 137. 
 
% 
 
 370 
 
 HIGHER READER. 
 
 Lubbock, Sir John, 46, 
 
 50. 
 Marshall Thomas W. 
 
 M., 108. 
 Martineau, Harriet, 
 
 108. 
 Maury, Matthew F., 
 
 12, 168. 
 Milton John, 188, 191, 
 
 251. 
 Newman, John Henry, 
 
 Cardinal, 88, 1(>2. It9, 
 
 291. 
 O'Leary, CoRNEr.ius M., 
 
 93. 
 Parkman, Francis, 121. 
 PoE, Edgar Allan, 150. 
 Pope, Alexander. 39. 
 Prescott, William H., 
 
 263. 
 Rossetti, Dante G., 140. 
 RusKiN, John, 144, 258. 
 Ryan, The Rev. Abram 
 
 J., 228. 
 Saxe, John Godfrey,128. 
 
 Schlegel, Karl F. Von, 
 
 244. 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 181. 
 
 Shakespeare William, 
 
 163, 207, 32Y, 331. 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 
 
 114. 
 Southwell, Robert,206 
 SOUVESTRE, Emile, 226. 
 Spenser Edmund, 205, 
 
 249. 
 Swetchine, Sophia S., 
 
 36, 149. 
 Tennyson, Alfred, 126. 
 Thomson James, 262. 
 Trench, Richard C, 185. 
 Twain, Mark, *76. 
 Tyndall, John, 253. 
 Wallace, Alfred R., 
 
 19t, 201 
 War burton, William, 
 
 294. 
 Webster, Daniel, 24t. 
 White, Henry Kirk,242. 
 Willis, Nathaniel P., 
 
 28, 08. 
 Wiseman, Nicholas, 
 
 Cardinal, 173. 
 Wordsworth, William, 
 
 273. 
 Young, Edward, 239. 
 
 i 
 
William, 
 , 331. 
 'Y Bysshe, 
 
 Ol{ERT,206 
 
 iiLE, 22G. 
 UNI), 205, 
 
 lOPHIA S., 
 FRED, 120. 
 
 is, 262. 
 lRdC, IRf). 
 16. 
 ^, 253. 
 
 .FRED R., 
 
 William, 
 
 lEL, 24t. 
 KiRK,242, 
 
 lANIEL P., 
 c: H O L A S, 
 
 73. 
 William, 
 
 RD, 239. 
 
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