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The Suliote Mother . "^'^^ .^Timo 27. The End of the Lonff pkrfiameiit ""'* ?^^>''^ 28. American Literature *^^'^''''°'^"* Ztw^^rfi 29. Legend of St Jodoona m""i':'-:\ Oiimke 80. ThI Poor Exile Translated f^om the German 81. A Christmas Hyinn I^mennais 33. Baron Geramb A'"^: Dommct f- The Angels of Buena vista.'.: ^"'''^''''^ ^fT"" 34. The Possession of Juba Whittier 35. The Possession ot 3nU:i(dmHn^'^:::: y,; ,', "^^""^ ?o? 3?: fefnTrtTe^liar^-^^^"^"'^^^ I'l 38. Italy. . ..... ^ -»• ^- McCarthy 137 89. The Tyrant and* t'lie 'Capt'ive JV ; ' 'w " *; ' '^'^^^^ 40. The Submarine TelegrSh ^n"^^ A Proctor 41. The Human Voice Cardinal Wiseman 43. The Bell of Liberty Holmes 43. The Just Man Headley 137 44. Summer Hymn »? "A* "A" ^'^^'^ 1^0 45. The Christian Pi-eacher J^'omthe Oermati of Scheffler 143 40. What is Glory ? Lamarline 144 Christendom MotJw.rweM The Good Old 'Tim'es'. ■.".■.'.'.■.■. » ' ' ' V v/ '''^f* Maryland -''''^"- "^- ^"- -Vf ^.j The Female "Alartyr Wm. Geo R,id American History '/,';.'" A ••/^/I'ittier Soggarth Aroon. . ....'.* ^"^'^ ^' Verplanck Summer's Farewell Banim Rome Under Nero. '• ^- ^^'^^ Acre Manalian 76 80 83 84 86 87 8!> 90 93 94 97 98 99 103 103 106 107 109 110 118 114 189 130 133 134 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 53. 53. 54. 65. 56. The : 67 58 59. 60. 145 146 149 153 154 156 158 160 163 1( 75 . .Buskin 76 Martyrs of Fatherland n'V"" lot The American Republic V^^ ^'^^^ ^^^ Don't Forget. '^^<^ff^ Stoi-y 167 The Penitent's 'Pmyer ^' ^- ^ayhyr 170 Tlie Chuxch-Boll «••,-. Goethe 171 61. The Bier that CJoii'o'ue'r'ed Cardinal Wiseman 173 63. St. Bernard.. ^ 173 63. for the Wings of't'he win'd lo "Wande'r 'l ' ' ' Jw^f'fff^-^/r^ JZ^ w^- A Man Overboard " tf'^-ijs _^j_i , ^,^y^^,^ i^q 65. The Fount of Song MitcheU 179 66. Monaeteiies. . -''"** Brown 180 Hurler 183 6 CONTENTS. 67. Charity... ^^ '**" 08. The P«ri'8 Song .■:;::::: COorman 183 69. Floating Wanda ." ^i^*^ }^6 71. Revolutionists . n^'H \^^ 73. The Aztec Empire. ... . . .' iF"''"^ If^r. 78. The Valley of MexicoV. V.'.V.V.V. ^'%? 2? 74. What is Poetry? « "iiJ-" iiJ ' / ' ^o 76 Thft An^~^ S 78. ThePross b"?""'^ n5 79. Huinsof copanandPaienque.::::::::;:.::; £r«2S? 80. The Spirit of Beauty Utep/iens m 81. Man's Position in C&a ion. .• ^JT' S i:?i;:^£^ •:::::::::":::::::;::i,.-^SISJ 86. Mother. . .. ^ '^i,^- '^iTf?* ^J*^ 87. The Extra Train. '.v. Pere Fel,^ m S9. Coxcombry in Conversat on rmZZ oio 98. The Silver-Bird's Nest '. *. '. ! '. '. '. ! ". 'Mi^'ff^rlX ?o? 94. The Burial at Sea. . ^.TMT^f^fi 95. The Glove and the Lions ■.•..■.*.*. V. ^''' '^^ f S/ lH 99. The WonLful "On" H;;sShay''.V.-.-. :.•.•..•.•. "IS^ SgS ;s?-Ji!r^vj.'^^i''«'^ityofNovvYo;k:::;;::;;::"::;;^ tni- r ,1''^ >'«niiBsal of (Jeneral Von Poffenburgh jg o'^g IS ior^XuS".""""^ • '-^''B, !S?: aL^ry^'°°-<'^^«^-''' ••■■'•■■• ••■•••••••■ ■••.^^^^^ 1118. Modem ImproTCments.' .■.'::::: aHf^ll^ 111. Fame f. r t,.,;.- l^l 112 Life Joanna Bailhe 253 Longfellow 253 PART III.— ORATOEICAL. 1. Oratory as an Art jTm^^j.. oitK 3. The Study of Oratory in Greece and Rome::::.-;:.*.-:::'^''^;; fA 8, Oration on the Crnwn. ... nl»i^utjZ or^ 4. Oration on the CrownHC7^«^cbV.\\V.\\V.\\".V.\ f!^ . !5?! ISq. . .(yOorman 183 Mooi-e 1N5 Hue 186 IIrri!f« /?'«/»« 213 214 I Wiseman 217 .. .Coieper 219 Viaksneare 220 ' -S. JSaAer 221 . Dryden 323 . i^. Ootild 223 : Jf. JVm^e 324 . .L. Bunt 335 ntalemhert 236 ^hakspeare 338 . . .PunrJi 239 . . .Holmes 280 . . .Ircing 2;J4 . . .Punch 2m .. .Ircing 3;{7 /&. 288 . .Holmes 389 .Dickens 240 /J. 243 . . . J9?/ffer 24G . .Hullcck 347 Paulding 248 251 laBaillie 253 ongfellow 253 .Knowles 255 ... FtX 256 }lostlie/ies 357 i*. 260 CONTENTS. Public Spirit of the Athenians. A Last Appeal . 12 13 14. 15. 16. 17. Strictures on WiTl 18 19. Hotspur 20 ■■ 21, 22. rAoa Demosthenes 261 lb. 263 Fenelon 264 .Ck!«ro 205 207 68 (Catiline Expelled 10. The Quarrel Scone from'juiius C;;^V ./6. 20 11. Marc Antony's Oration Shnkspenre 361 Apunst the Execution of Louis XVI V>: ' " •.•^*; ~I? 1 lie Rising of the Vendee Virgumud 275 Lord StralTord's Defence. , . .'. ^''"^'^ „ 277 - iain Pitt 'c'- Shaksj)eare 283 Heply of VViJliam Pitt ...,', ' **'* Uobert Walpote 284 "I'u. 286 liepeal of the Stamp Act V* •^^'^'^f^^ire 288 Reconciliation with Amerira. -.Lord C/iutham, 390 The American War °* Earl of Qluitlutm 393 24. "A Political Pause" ** lb- 295 25. The American War Denoun'ced .' • lir'/, : ' ' ' vf ^'- 2^'' 36. On an Attempt to coerce him to Redsn WMiam Put 298 27. Sectarian Tyranny 1812 »«8ign j^ gyg 88. Reply to the Dukeof GraftoA "^^'^^ Orattan 301 89. A eollision of Vices. . . T/mrhu, 303 80. "Measures not Men" Canning 303 81. Danger of Delay • lb. 305 83. Pariiamentary Reform '^ Brougham 806 "'' The Establi.'^hed Church'in IrfllWnH 'ni'k ii. 308 Satirical Extract from a Speech of Mr* r^nni ' " ^^ ^, Macanlay 311 (1825) 7; "l^®®*^ o* ^^- Canning on the Address Declaration of Irish Rights Canning 313 Reply to Mr. Flood. 1788 Orattan 315 The Irish Parliament /6. 8l7 The O'Kavanagh. ' • • ; lb. 3l9 On American Taxation. ...'. Augusts Shea 331 88 84. 35. 86. 87. 89. 40. Enterprise of American C innistV ^^^^ 333 41 Pandemonium... /6. 324 43. Impeachment of Warren Easting^:.' It ^35 40. Tht B7. The Tail ." 0' Co?meU 83i Scenes of Our Youth.*.*.'.". d; ' "i! ' " " ^; * ; -^.335 The Pillar Towers of Ireland " " ^(ackwood'a Magazine 330 The Irish Disturbance BiU ^' ^- ^'CaHhy 308 Religious Liberty. . O'Connell 340 The Irish Soldier. /*. 343 Laws for Ireland '. .'.". Gurran 343 National Independence .'.'. .'.'.' Oraitan 346 The American Revolution ' t".* ; ^^** *^47 The Age of Washington . '^''^*,^ (^uincy 349 Union and Liberty " .-Msher Ames 361 ■ ' 0. W. Holmes 'mi 6 OONTJiJNTS. I. S?: ?Iti"S"',t?,r'''"' F.n.iia.staff T^ £;:;: is OJ. Return of British Fugitivee, 17«a i,, I f 64. Lafayotto V i, V >> '• ^" ', " 66. The EaLdo. . * " "''"""^ - {'"'tw/^ «(>■» 67. The Prospect ofwkr. ;;■.■. ■.■.■; i'n r'S^ nl'Il 68. lieply to Foots Itesolutions. ;; TzXr/r //"'"'' ! ^a 69. Song of Mari.m's Men.. . . . . '. '^ ^T* i^ 70. Matclios and O ver-iuatchos tl/T, f^- 71. The South during the lieToiution i :::::;:.:: mZ ^ 73. Tlio Federal Union 'iTFt^f .,il 73. Peaceable Secosaiou ^^"'"i'l' Hf, 74. Free Trade W'^^- f? 75. OurCountry i^"^/^« 881 76. The State Constitution. . . ." ;.': .' •/'/• K.f '' S 77. The Folly of Disuni..n. '^"''^' ^"^^^ ^^i 78. Party Spirit 7?" ou5 79. Factious Power ■'''• f^^ J?: Sew TcSSr "''^■°'''«^° "'-^"V-'-'.v.v.v.v.v.v.vi/ii,;^; S i 0,';? SZST"^'^ "' "'"'"°'>^°'' ■'■ ■' ■•■ ■ ■ ■■ • • -i- 5^' «- S 84. Liberty aad dr^Uim.'.".'.':.'.'.'. ^- r'"^"". SSJ S SSrs'cSX'r;;; ■•■•■•^"•■^'"'^*''-'/ 'i^ 87. Honorable Ambition V.'.'. /^ An^ 88. Aspirations for America ' 'n'ir'nJ a^, 89. The Evils of War.... ^' ^ ^^^ f^^, 90. Hohenlinden ;r' TK 1^^ 91. Valedh-tory Address to the Senate .■.•.■.•:::.•.'.•;;.•.•;• ' ' '^'''tfu S1 93. Freedom of Discussion w'r P.h,^ T.m 93. The Mexican War ^^- ^^"V. *'^'^ f?^ M. Ketributive Justice ^- ^"""T f^ 95. The Cause of the Union. , ..'.'.'.'. R n'wi^h a\~ 96. Duty of American Citizens. ^^ ^^ ^,^7^ ^' 97. The Foundation ofNationalCharacter:;:;:::::^c/«a;.d^S !}§ /^: PART IV.— MISCELLANEOUS. .1 S,J«X^°-dg'^ty of High Treason B^H mnrnet 421 >^>-8. Who is Blannerhas'sVti ?: WW. ^"^"^"^ ^^JT' Jf ? 4. The Habeas Corpus Act .' •ri\;J^- ^^^ 5. Curran's Appeal to Lord Avonmor;! '.W". ^"""^f^ fl 6. Great Minds in their Relations to ChristianHyV.\\\V.\'.'i';iK«; 43? I Itl^'^ZlT^ "^^- • • ■^"'"^ 11- 1 9 Troland • ', PhtUips 441 ij. Adherbai agai^isvyugurtW. ;.\\\\\;\\-.-;::;:;:;5;.^ 53^'^ m CONTENTS. 9 ...Franklin 8'»a rneur Morrin ;J54 ./. Q. AdiiiiH JLlfl utrick Ilenry Ji**? lb. '.m lb. :i(;o lincy Adanui '.m 'ne« JLuliion [}(;,") . . . .Penkdl iilKl ' 0. ChUmuu i!(J8 rt Y. Jlayne y:0 Bryant 37i] • . . . Wamter '61~i Ilayne 377 . . . . Webnter 378 lb. 379 Edyiie 881 >Ft*«^e?' 383 idge Oaston 384 /ft. 880 Ih. 387 lb. 888 . .McDiiffie 389 . Wint/irap 390 2. 2'. P«tVte 392 ..T.Ewing 394 ....Legare 395 :{/■ liuaiwkc 397 C% 399 /6. 400 C. if Ci^a^^ 401 ...£r. Olay 403 . .CampbeU 404 6'% 400 C Preston 409 .2'. Cy/m;t 413 lb. 413 Winthrap 415 . .Douglas 418 ;/'d ii'ytveW 419 /•< Emmet 421 (!taw iriW 430 76. 431 . .Curran 433 iZ>. 435 . .Erakine 437 !i TFeAs^^r 439 . .Phillips 441 i Meagher 443 > . .aS^^u^'< 448 11. Alarlc tho Visiffotli... '^" FvTn'.!?tf *^''}f i"l '" I"''i^*'>'" oi-'lVcsiVtinKthe lionmn Power 13. 14. 18. 10. 17. 18. II). 20 1) MSI EKereti 440 419 4r)i 451 453 So.nproniuh' Speodi for War,". ■.'.■.■.'.■. ' a,u:: taam Alarius to the Roinnnu rt i" " " • • • * • ■^^!;'^''* «r..tu8 on the Doath o^ci Paraphrase from SaUust 4.53 Tilt! Spartans' March bt*/-' • ' "w ft''* The Death of Lonklas. . ". ^'^*"" ^'T']' ^'i ^. Th(, Flight of Xerxes. . . i; • • • ; • -^'"''^ ^/^ 1 . Sciplo to luH Army "^**'' ''*^^»'>^r'y 4.^i> 23. Ilannihul to hia Arniy ■^'■'■^ *"*^ 23. li.iKUlus to tho HonmaSonatoV .".'.■ '. ^' ^m\ 24. Leonidas to Lis Thro., Hundro PKINCIPLE8 AND DEPINITIONS. ■^E define £hcuti„n to be a knowledge ot the prinoiple. »» which govern the outward e.pres.ion of theTnwarf 60 >8 to be easJj comprehended. The science of elocution the., .nclude. the whole theo.7 of deUvery. It ia ^Tl"' ^mg forn, or representative power of elo,„ence in sZch" Oratory ^ the vital e^stence resulting fron. .he perfelfto^ We study elocution in order to improve in oral expression and to cultivate everv fi»fo,.r,oi ^Apression, which th« A.V ^""""^V? ^ ^'' °^ accomplishment with whi h the delivery of language should be aocompauied- whether .n reading, speaking, recitation, or extemporrel discourse ; and this is the art of elocution "^^^'"^^^^^ undlZd-'"^'"^ '-' *'^ '^"^^^ °^ *^°"^H we must ^^F^s^. The vocal organs, and the muscles which act on I of f vT"^' rr ^r""' "' ''^^'^^ ^^"^^^*«' ^r Do tt ? ? '' ''''''^"^- ^'^^« -ding, speaking, orTin Jng' "' "''^ *'^ ^''""^^ — ^ i^ The student should be cart^f.,! i^ ^. ^ Sood voic depend, op„„ ,t A 'l 7 ""^ ''"^^ "■■-'■ ^ ««rfto-^,m»tbekep?i,;,„„e "'™'' "^ P'-"<'°'=« » ««. .n espcoW favorite. Though ,.„,L „ 7 °'" "" '"^^ "' O^' The aid in : nsn ™™d posrn UOOB The se body rest In assi parade of Advanc demands only as cc sentiment different ] " weaving lelirery of >ur knowl- to sit prop- nd to tlie X, may b« LOCUTION. 18 nun posmoir. •■ooiro roamoH. ■me praotice of Potion and (?.«(„„ will prove a vahaWe md., physical culture, and in acquiring a graceful address We have but two Pri- mary positions of the feet. I j I First— 1\iQ body rests LJI L °" *^^ "g'^*^ f«t>t, the left x^y^^^^ a little advanced, left knee bent. Second— The body rests on the left foot, right a little advanced, right knee bent. We have two other po- sitions, which are called Secondary. They are as- sumed in argument, ap- peal, or persuasion. The first secondary position is taken from the first pri- n»ary, by advancing the nnoccupied foot, and rest- ing the body upon it, lean- ,ing forward, tJie right foot brought to its support. The second secondary position is the same as the first the body resting upon the right foot. ' In assuming these positions, all moVements should be made '"^"p detftheT' ^^'"'''"''' ^^^^'''"^ "''^ «*^^« «*" parade ot the danciag-master." " Advance, retire, or change with ease, except when the action' demands energy or „,arked decision. Adopt such posife™ on^y as c„„s,st of „a„ly and sin,ple grace, and change as the scntment or subject changes, or as you address yours If to different parts of the a.iHienoe «— V - • ^ , M,^ . '„ . Clll.t^. itruid IllUVillg about. Ol weavmg," or moving the feet or hands while speaking. wiBD posmoir, ob mm UOOMDAXT. nvtna poamoir, OB SBOOITD axoOROABf. I THB SIXTH BEADEB. EXERCISES IN BKEATHING. Deep breathing- with f],n r; fated the ,„„^3 to thi It', l;:! "T^'^'^'- ^avi J ,•„' "•e element of feag „ ;„ it,' '^r^i^' "''"' ""' ''™«!' '"to TW« exercise .h„„M ieflZZ "^ ^"^ ™''^' "^an, ^ "trengtheaed thereby and Z ^ ' "' "" "'""^ """ •"oreasad. Do not .ml ZZl2 'f '"^ *" ^'-"y okest alone when y„„ b,'att R n *'"'"''''*'■ P"" "^ tbo "^tnes, by the expanai™ and' " " "' " "^^"V "Md and intercostal muLer Such brear"" "' ""^ '^^""""al •"^alth, and be of great aseistan.e "'^ "'" "^^""^ «•« raking. Great care \ZtZZ" °°°"''°°"' ''"^'"S »' ■■"» voice. Do not wa.te breaTh '" °"°''"'''^ ""^ ""-^ath jT hoarseness will follow, jfnch nr ./■ ""' " '^'=<"'""Oally, or '<^.^ -a all the varietiea of ^ c/ 1°'" °« " "^ '°'^^' ^'^'-«"'». V" «"«■' of sentences, and, finX' „ 'llf ""^""^ "' ""rds "7 '" 'earning ,„ „^' ^^ J;"' «* 'e paragraphs, is neces: a-d taste in vocalidng. Nevir si I . '"^"'""^ ■'°''«a"="» "austed. Keep themlelUnflated ™ "" '"8^ "" «- GESTUKE. I' is understood that praotire („ .t, a™s, to secure ease of move„ e"t « ' ""' "' "" """"i' a-d . 'are, ,8 the object to be ..ai„!r appropriateness in ges- «<="• Gilbert Austin in Uohiro '""'"" "' "'^' P™» by y be sufficient to call attC^ZT"; ^"^ "'« P'-«" i Circle,. "'•-""O" to the ^^, i^,^ ^ The human ficurp io ,,. sphere tl.at the'centre ITlTu *' '^^ «" P^-^^ -tlun the centre. • ^^ '^' brea«t shall coincide with i ^^ mo^wns cnc/ position', nf ti. ELOCUTION. 15 'gr as Jong as • IJavin^ in- e breath into vocal org-ans the voice will 3hest greatly T part of the lealthjr child e abdominal 'niprove the reading or the breath micallj, or il elements, of words, 8, is neces- judgment js are ex- ands and 8 in geg. ->f El(jcu- riven by esont i nded by Iiin the vith its ind de Thrs horizontal circles arntm,! fK« r ^ l head, denote the direction of th I ^' ' ''''' ""^ "^^^« *h« ^-/ „«e the right hatnalm ". '"' ™ "^ ^'^« P^^^ice. With the body, lestl: t^^^^^^^ ^^- - *t angles to the middle; then with ene 'y to hJ ' ''''!'''' ''^' <-"crgy to the upper circle. The practise first w . L Th t TT" *""'• ^"" "<= -? "■e risht-h^d pa,„ ;„:" ';t7 ™ "P- *f ' *e left , .he" °P ; then both, p,|,„, jT,m 1, i ^' "'™ '"'"' '"'"<'«. P"'"" If we select a , an, ' ," 7.'" ""■■ "^ '-'y-iffht gestures. c/TOcftce. Tins system, if carefully 16 THE SIXTH HEADER. arm,. ^^ '" ""^ ™°vom«,t8 of the hands sfd Professor Russell snys "Tl,,. .„. true maDDer ; the ffroat att«h , ,' '"''"'"" '""'* '■""e a attitude and 'action^" ZklZ ^7'"^ ^^"""O". '» pn>?»« aod Bary for ftfe ""'* ^""'"^ '° P"™""" and gesture is neces- --, th„„,h e.aet„ess and unifrrshlrl'",:;-- ■.afdTnd'r: '"wetrr '- r" -^ '"='^» -•* *-« --.h. H^ Tm VOCAL OKGAtfS. [AVING learned how to sta„rl h, . ^ ar.s, b„^ to sit, aL hot 'brertl "" "■' '""''' "-' the r«a; Organs and Iheir uT ' '"' °°" P™"^^"^" to -he hyoid or „.,,•,,„ b„„^ . !„d t ^ T^ '''""'■' '^ ""lied «-«s a long oartilagZ; tie '"'™f ""^'•'' fr™ this bone and conveys the air bfcrard VttdTnt'''' '" ""' '""''■ p.rat,on. This tnbe is called the IZ " """^'^ "^ '"^ "Pper part of it, or t.,at i ,n edL w! "' " "'"*'?'= ' "nd the bone, the larynx ■ a„d ,,'""""•.'*'■"'''>■ connected with the hyoid «"tu.s.lJeat;fre;rS--\;---whichr of fiv( most c size ar from tl mediat lowins: to the ported contrac • and th( Daily w similar We 6 muscles air prop, or openi pends u^ and mob Speed ulations mouth or Sherida ^very lett( to the mof such a di composed, their num ter belong articulatioi A good t aloud, and «i . -iciiiuijcs ai Aspirates. istructor, will 36 hands and must have a xpression, in freedom and ' orator must 'Ure is neces- a speakfng ; fc to be en- be insisted 1 the right ancient or ELOCUTION. 17 mediately over ti.e aom- mf /^" '="'''''«'^ "«» ■■'"■ to the stomach Thes fL?ea n °''"'"""^™' "'"■^'' '"""' ported V a fifth, ^ ^Z^Z:\^'':Z^ ''" '"' ■contracted and dilatpH in « • "^"^ ^^^^^^x la and the -^J^^Z:':^Z 2^ T!^'-' T''"'- Daily with a very sensiHvp «o i , * '» covered inter- -nar to the Jra^'oT'the itth "'"' "'"°'" "■->^™-. We see, then, that the oronn nf iU ■ . or opening into the mouth tL " . ™ "*' "f '*« »««», Pends npJn the mterardiame or T^f r,,-' "" ™'"° "»• and mobility, and the force wHh whfch ? ' '" """'""^ Speech is the modification ,1 " ^"•^^''"^■ "lations in the cav tv of .1 .°'''' ""'° '"''^"'siWo artic- mouth or the7ostril7 ^''•"" ""''' " *" *" »' 'b« ARTIC0LATION. to the most app.ot'dtrmXr„r„:" irrd -r ■■-' orpo:e:ttiree\t::;,%r'"^'-^^^ their number, and percet 't" f 'f °""^' ''*°°"'»''? t^r belongs. ' Where Z: pi t "„, r"^" ^-'"^"'^ -c- lo' articulation is defeotiTe.» '^ '*''°''''' ^"' "'»■ observed the A good articulation may be ann.,;„j . ajona and i„ a whisper, tLlrer^ tZ tl'^T'"^ j^e;^ are u.vided into three classes- ^^ IZtZZ 18 THE SIXTH READER. I „ '*^'^' ^'auch, class, mastiff. y, oerore R, aa in heir, their. IsZ ■" ''" ''°''' ""'■'''• '^y- ^""■H flight '*'"'■"'"'"• P"'. whip, c;,„i„;ri„|.' -».«».J;e::;.re:•r.^:r;e'°-•'• O'. OS in oil, choice, noise, coin toy boil 0". as .n out. «o„„d, t„„„, .ho;,':i':;^ '-z\*:;„Titr:;^4*-thee,^^^^ flexibility of voice and good art! , """=' "' *" '™'»- For -ci- than the nttsJ^,rZT7 !'""'" '' °° "'"'^ "! oren. ,,«^^^,„„ ,^^^ ^,.^,._^^^ 17;: it^Tn ^ '"""■'■ ueies. ihe practice of exDlodi„„ .1, t '"" ""'cuni- Conaonant prefixed, firet a Sntv fal p "' "™«"'' "'"■ « -.-fgreat™l„ei„ac,nirIrol„rr;:rtT: "" *^^ P'-eceding table. They are BLOCtJTION. 19 VM •^ {" formed by the vibration of the Vnral .u a organs of speech : ^ '^"'^'' '""^'fied bj the ^ 1 1 ' ' '^"''^' ^'"^^ "««d. ^lid. ^' r 4 if:"; ^T' f ^' ^-=--v, give. ^luJu^, , 7 ""' ''^ J'^' J"y. J'lclf?^, Juno, furv ' 4 06 m let, lull, wall, isle, la.'k loH ; ^ - ^ .nan. .ain, .ou..d, .a;i. dJ^r ^'^'>' ^ as in nun, nay, noun, name. %a«^nsing^, king, ring, flinging. fi (^n/ferf), run, rap, Richard, France, round ^iTT^-'^'^'^^'^PP-^'^-^earet m, asm th,ne, th„s, thy, beneath, wreathe l^^^^^asjn vent, valve, vine, veer, w'eave tl ^, as ^n went, wall, one, woo. worn. I' "' ?^ y''' y^^^S, year, yawl, use, you MJUu^ iZrV '■''' ""' ^--rmaze.'arise. ^ . ' ^, or Z, as ^n a.ure, leisure, osier, vision. i«. the ::;."%:: r r;^ ?; '-'-^-^^^ -•^'^-^ -^^e: KM .T Sub-Vocals with the inflections. D' b^ d' d' e-' (y> i' ,-\ 1/ 1, X m. „ . . " e g J J 1 r, etc. With .0 ™„. power than t„e, ^^ • e irttd:":' ""^' '"^-^ :a4 ^. as tn top, time, tune, matter debt S ^A u.tL ^A, a. in chat, church churn chHd ! !^^' ^'^^''' "^ (.;4--^A. o« m shun shade o^~t' . ' ''*''''^' chirp. .....U^ . ^ , ouun, snaae, gash, rash, sash minai^ -■ i m V^ ^'1"' *'^"'' ""^^' ^-thrihinri • '^ Wh, 08 m when, whit, whale, o>nA. ~-i W^*« What, why, while, whew. I THE SIXTH READER. The Elements, we repeat, aflFord a bettor exerciHe in ArfJ.n ^ Iat.on than words connected to form sense 1^ e dn I on h"' ,. Elements should form a daily exercise in a Uu..school8. Change the nitrh .L l I .^" ""' ^""''''y Tk„ * 1 ^ ^ ' """ ^''^■'^'G often n recitinir th^m If we givo ,l„, Elcnenu. properly, we shall have no trouble wUh the,r e„rab,„ali„„s into words ami senteuces «se\:^S^;;rc„^— ^^^ "T' ^^^"'^-^ the ntterao^ to the upper p«r^th iT' ""' """^-^e part of the vocal orga,,, "''"' "' '" ""^ <"" the^L'Torfir " "'" °f ''°«''''*'' '""'='' »- P'-'x'-ed bv Cognates. ATOKIOS. •IfBTOWIOa. ^'^ ^ or6 6 •^ vas» « wAite u>;i . wise to «ave s . , zeal g 8ha.de sh '•••••. azure z cAarm ch • • ^om i ^^^' < . . ^-^ . aia <| periods, and sometimes throw in exclamations, and sometime, jne-ogatones. to rouse and keep alive the attLntion ; bu al th 8 art IS entirely thrown away, if the reader does not ente, mto the spirit of the author, and. by a similar kind of genius render even variety itself more various ; if he does not by aii ateration m his voice, manner, tone, gesture, loudness, soft- ness, quickness, slowness, adopt every change of which the subject is susceptible. ^ We have never yet found a person who could not acquire proficiency m modulating the voice. It is the mind's in't" than olr«Tr'"*""- /^'"^^ ''' ""'"''^'^ *° P-«««e ™-e than others, but none need give up the work as useless. THfi SIXTH HEADKH. QUAL'TY OF VOICE. , . Q'^^'ity : P,„« ,„^ IMPUK. tZ^ *"^' ^^'"^'•'^' d-'-onH of UJ.-M...ito Pure Tone, deoponed o'r On undT r^"'" '^ «"^^'^'^'^^'""^ ^^^^^^ t'^-? , To ? ^ , «a,d.-Porage and run To meet displeasure farther from the doors, And grapple with him ere he come so nigll TV ■2^'V John. UEPiNirroN OP Eloquencb When public bodies aro to be a,^^ro a ■ .cca»,-ons, when ,reat intero.Ts h^ TZl Z T"""'""' "ions eicit„d noti.:— •• ■■ ''' """^ '"'<'"? Pas- » liiieuectudl an(J moral endowmenta .^ • ■*< 24 THE SIXTH READEB. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which pro duce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech ; it cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they toil for it in vain : words and phrases may be marshalled in every way. but they cannot compass it : It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation -all may aspire after it ; they cannot reach it : it comes if It come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontanc- ous, original, native force.— TTeftster. ' > Vci-kJ^ U^An- The Guttural Quality expresses Loathing, Contempt, Hatred Kevenge, Scorn, etc. ' EXAMPLES. Envt Amounting to Hatbb©. How like a fawning publican he looks I I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, Jw*^^^ - I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear hira?"'*' He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, . On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, ^^ Which he calls interest Cursed be my tribe, ' If I forgive Lim. M&rOumt of Venice. Hatred Cubsing thb Object Hated. Poison be their drink f t^^^ ^^^ Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste I Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees I Their chiefest nrnsn^f-t mnrfh«-i"T v.„_:i.'-u_ t Their softest touch, as smart as lizard's stings ! ^^y^^^ ELOCUTION. 25 The Aspirate Voice is used to express Fear, Horror, Ke- morse, and Despair. EXAMPLES. Feae of Being Discoveked a Mubderer. Alack 1 I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done :— th' attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us.—Hark !— I laid their daggers ready : He could not miss 'em.— Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't. Macbeth. "tsvUt. Horror at a Dreadful Apparition. How ill this taper burns 1— Ha I who comes here ? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me.— Art thou any thing ? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil. That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare ? Speak to me, what thou art. Julim Oouao' Terror Before Dreadful Actions Described. Between the acting of a dreadful thing. And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The Genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council ; and the state of man. Like a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection. JvUu» OcBsar. The Tremor Quality expresses Pity, Grief, Tenderness, etc. EXAMPLES. Pity for a Departed Friend. Alas, poor Yorick !— I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of in- finite jest, of most. excellent fancy : he hatli borne me on his back a thousand times. And now, how abhorred my imagina- tion is 1 my gorge rises at it : Hero hung those lips that I ^^^ SIXTH BEADER. have kissed I know not how oft w. . ^^-^-^^ lour c-ambols ? v VVhere he vo.ir ,.;k th«f«. Yoursoug-8? Yonp fl , ^''"'^ S^'bes no^ ? tiiat were wont to set ih^ + . , ""^^'^^s of memn. / 1^-i.^i .our „.„ ^r^^; '» ;- a .«r p ^„, j--„^ ^ »y '^y's chamber, and teH ht ^*'""'; ^ow, ^et ;„„" r^ f °^® ^^^^E Jim -I' waa a cCier-a .ife aad oh«dX ! , dT ^ ™ "■■"■ = As .ha Offered Jp ^ XCt^' J°"^™^ '»'""■ >•« cheat I^est she mfo-ht w«lr.!^ ' '''^"grht, she was afr.,-^ , ' ^ith hands uplifted, see sh^ Z' i . P°°' ^""'er's wife ^"' P-^« that He wiuIdXt W : ': t ^ ^"^--'«"'^"> cu "^'""^^^^e^o'-self instead She g-ets her answer from f h u. I hwa no pa;„, j^ar raofte. ™ ' ," ^''^'"' ""le Jim, ^ "' ■fm moisten poor Jin,.° ,,'' "°"' •>"' o"" I I .„ «, ^ ' *^«^ He 3,nned .„ than, J, ^ta t 'eaef a """i^ '» '"'« ^^-icn little, tmv sin f h "Tellfath h 'V SJP- WottCu ^ka knew that ha was dyi„. .?:, ,^^'"' ' P"" 'iWa Ji™ , ^ — -p^aii a Word. THE V toth ness or v or degree anticipate We mai calling to in solemn and Middl eions. The degi three genei mation and tfonal utter dued emotic The time fnents delivi of thought, 1 sr«re, and Sli crate and sic / '"■ g-ibes no\v^ ? of merriment, »t one now, to an inch thick, '^ at that— id mean, 'd clean • '^'ng wild, ' child ; w'n dim : 'le Jim. ^er cheek, ^ to speak, ^er hTe ; f's wife, ei-'s bed, f instead. "'•omhim, on crjr.» lip ; '.rfS^^^aP*- ELOCUTION. -V ir to him, ml > dear, I" Leaven, once 1':;: ^J,^J2 1^ '"'"'"^ ^'' """"^ meet again their own poor little Jim. ".to each other eo much tha, i '""°"™^' «'^7 ^''-''^ -. .0 e.pre.. .th 7^:1, 1'lrZror.^-- VARIATIONS OF YOICE. ness or volume, .J lZ7'J.t' T'' *" '"" ""»"«« "f "oud- or degree of ra idity wHh Ih c 7 ° "" ™"' "^ ""^--o ""ticipated the^e varilti .nj rtheT T """^'- ^^•«'* We mark tbree diVisiZ ? p^r.'^'^ ""^.^^ ^°-- •calling to persons at a distance „!i;- *' '" ''"'""■"?• »' i" solemn utterances or emr„l * ^-^ ''™""'"''' ■• ^- >' - --. as i-n <^i^^:;:::^:::::s:^xT:^::: ".a'.-o» and impassioned a7dl SjC^'"" '""'" lioiial utterances • and v,.n ' ™»»» .fiJrea, for unemo- d"ed emotions. ' "^^ "' ""^' ■^''™' ■•° Pa'hstic or sub- -thought, ,„t ;e matter;::;: zz^v^''. »'^'- *'^, and ;6Yow; or we nncrht h\' "'^'-^x.^ ; ^uick; Mod- "ate and slow.'andTory " low ""'* ^"^ ™^^ 'J°'*. -«* as THE SIXTH HEADER. •VU n. , ., , EXAMPLES IN PITCH. Bigh pitch. Son. — Hurrah for Freedom's Jubilee | God bless our native land I And may / live to hold the boon Oi freedom in my hand. Moderate pitch. l>'ather.r-We]l done, my boy, grow up and love The land that gave yon birth, A land where freedom loves to dwell, A paradise on earth. Low pUeh, We mustered at midnight,— in darkness we formed,-— And the whisper went round of a fort to be stormed : But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we heard,' And no voice of command but our Colonel's low word-'- " Column, Forward !" And out through the mist and the murk of the morn, From the beaches of Hampton our barges were borne ; And we heard not a sound save the sweep of the oar,' Till the word of our Colonel came up from the shore-1 " Column, Forward 1" Siffh pi, ZawpitCi Moderate 3. i Eighpitci Lmo pitch. Moderate 1 4. The Pilot. Moderate pitch. 1. The waves are high, the night is dark, Wild roam the foaming tides. Dashing around the straining bark, As gallantly she rides. High pitch. , " Pilot I take heed what course you steer j i^iM^ Our bark is tempest-driven 1" Low pitch. "Stranger, be calm, there is no fear For bim who trusts in Heaven I" •Vul Very high. Moderate. ELOCUTION. BigTi pitch. 2. " pilot ! mark yon thimder-cloud— The lightning's lurid rivers ; yl^W ' Hark to the wind, 'tis piping loud— The mainmast bends and quivers I • Stay, pilot, stay, and shorten sail Uu^pUcn.^ ^"' "'^'"^^ *^'^«""'« ^'^^^" I" '-^ v^ «!») " Stranger, what matters calm or gale To him who trusts in Heaven?" Moderate. 3. Borne by the winds, the vessel flies Up to the thundering cloud • f^^^^vl>^ ^ Through their ranks, then, with the war-hora^. Through their bosoms with the steel. 6. With one shout for good King Louis, And the fair land of the vine Like the wrathful Alpine tempest, We swept upon their line. Then rang along the battle-field Triumphant our hurrah And we smote them dow^, still cheering- 81 Gtntleforee. 7. As prized as is the blessing From an aged father's lip- As welcome as the haven To the tempest-driven ship- As dear as to the lover The smile of gentle maid- Is this day of long-sought vengeance lo the swo rds of the Brigade. ' Ireland, the bright toast forever I 32 THE SIXTH READEB. Loudforce. |^...aux. 8. See their shattered forces flying A broken, routed line— b^J^ See, England, what brave laurels Oh^T. ^°"'^ ^'°'' ^""^^^ ^« *^'"^- -^^-' Oh hnce blessed the hour that witnessed Ihe Bnton turn to flee From the chivalry of Erin And France's ^'-fleur de lisP Oentleforee. 9. Ab we lay beside our camp-fires Whe.n the sun had passed awly And thought upon our brethren Who had perished in the fray Moderate increase to the dose. We prayed to God to grant us, And then we'd die with joy One day upon our own dear land Like this of Fontenoy. -Ba.tho,nne. DouUn, Moderate force. ^""^ ^^'^ct Soldier. The crimson tide was ebbin"- -mA ih^ ^ faint, "' ^^ *^^ P"'^^ ff^e^ weak .nd ZS'j^""' ''" "" "-I -•" "0 ". though I die V '"":;— -'-*^e„fe,-,,tiad aiea out to, ■„,. "It « g™,vi,.g .e., „a..i, .„ther-grow<. ver, da*- ""':::r ■•"-"'->- ".e".a»d .an,, ,ead3„„, ''""i.:!rder;:r:'""^"™"^'^-.»^t^eean„o. ELOCUTION. 88 They gathered round the spot where the dying soldier lay, To catch the broken accents he was struggling then to say- And a change came o'er the features where death had 'set his mark, " It is growing very dark, mother— very, very dark." Far away his mind had wandered to Ohio's hills and vales Wliere the loved ones watched and waited with that love that never fails ; He was with them as in childhood, seated in the cottage door" Where he watched the evening shadows slowly creepin<. on the floor : ° Bend down closely, comrades, closely-he is speaking now and hark I * " It is growing very dark, mother— very, very dark." EXAMPLES IN TIME. Very ^tck time. *vv^^ • ^^yj-i^. 1. Quick-man the boat! John, be quick! Get some water I Throw the powder overboard I "It cannot be reached." Jump into the boat, then! Shove off! There goes the powder I Ihank Heaven, we are safe I f^^^^^*U. Moderate and quick. 2. At length, o'er Columbus, slow consciousness breaks, "Land! land!" cry the sailors; "land! land I"— ha awakes — He runs,— yes! behold it! it blesseth his sight! The land ! oh ! dear spectacle ! transport ! delight ! Very state time. 3. The stars | shall fade away, |f the sun' himself | Grow dim with age, || and Nature | sink' in years; But thou I Shalt flourish' in immortal youth || Unhurt I umidsf, tiie war of elements, || The wreck of matter, || und the crush of worlds t S4 THE SIXTH BEADBR. Creation slorpa I ii if Vi« ac +1 By the w,„da which toll „f the violet's birth ' By he primrose a.a,. in the shadowy „™1' By the green leaves opening as I pa^s Ifoderate time.—FuU force Ours the battle-field of life I Ne'er a foot to foernan yiellln^ Pressing: closer midst the stn-fef Xrw V^""'^""«^^'^°^*f-"hood,- ForwardI n the fire of Youth,- ' e^ JL T '* r™"'^"'"^' ^^'^^ «"n-end.-.^ «^*- ^^"^ thee in the mail of Truth I ' Miller was a rough stone-mason ; Shakespeare, Goldsmith, Keats and Hood. Had to tod as we, for food. Yes : these men with minds majestic, Sprang from ranks the rich call poor Cast a halo round brown labor,- ' ' UU. Had to wrestle, fight, endure. Fo^wanl,thenl"bright eyes are beaming. stfe^V;;^^^^^ tny nglit hand, seize thy birthriffhft. f . Take ,t, wear it, 'tis thine own 1 ^"^^^''^^ Slay the giants which beset thee Of the gifted write thy name I ELOCUTION. Blow time. All «>ggod with rock and ta„Kl„d with thorn I droamod of celestial reward and renown I asked for the palm-branch, the robe, and the crown _ - I askeJ,-and Thou ahow'dat mo a cross andTgTavT SuMned and instructed, at length, to Thy will My hopes and n,y |„„gi„g3 i ,,,„ „„„|^ J; _ Oh g.ve n,o the heart that can wait and be sti f ' Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but m,it There are ma„.M-o„s exempted from sin and from w«, But they stand in a rojion by mortals untrod ' The e arc nvers of joy, but they flow not below-' There ,s res,, but it dwells in the presence oT'ood. SS EMPHASIS. certain words by stress of^ , . "° '"' '""""euisk i» of three kind, b ■ ,„ ° V,"^ " oalled^BnJhasis. It vanishing EmphLis "4' ,« "l ^''^ ~^' ^"'' Phatic force which is given tot^flrj "T'r " '"'''"'"' '''"• ing or reading; by JJI L ! .,'" ""^ '"""'' '" 'P«* , to the middl^ of w^rd lid •? ' " '"''" ^™"'' »»"<-'< ^t^**!: J , words and vamshina. that Inaf «- J \i- ound. It is pvon with a sndden jerk or s„al of the ^^ I on the last Rvllnhip ^f -.,.., . J '"■ ^^ snap ot the voice. ' Defiance. Angir; OontJmpr "" """"'"^ *'"^''««' ^^"^ 86 THE SIXTH RiSADKR. ,1,T , ' " "™° ""«'• "°"''' ■■'"'"■"'i the stiuiont ■><«'K«. It i« timt natural vanati„„ in t|,o nltci-anrn nP -oos which .x,,n,it., th„,„ht, and «ivo, the ^o" vajr to the speech „f those who .....leretanrt its anp:i<.-.ti, n T, more than stre™ ef voice. It rennires foe inf t] . It .8 both expro,. ■ ™ an.l impressive ntterance. neo^lTv to ?';"': "IT"^' " ^"'"^'"^ - "P^k-fr. it - -::r;.:,trtrs?tr:n^^^^^^^ he observe this rnle ^ ' application, if .e:t:^:::t:,r:;rt::r:;L::i?— - EXAMPLES IN EMPHATIC UTTERANCE. 1. Advance yonr standards, draw your willing swords I God and'sTr'"' 'T'''^' '"'^"^ ^^ che'rfuli; ' God and St. Georg-o I Ireland and victory- 2. Wh,n-e rests the sword ?-where sleeps the brave? Awake! Cocropia's ally save From the fury of the blast I Burst the storni Ghocis' walls— Rise 1 or Greece forever falls ; tip ! or Freedom breathes her last ! 8. Strike for the sires who left you free I • Str.ke for their sakes who bore you 1 Strike for your homes and liberty And the Heavea you worship o'er you ! 4. Vill; ^ Hac You And Whi Stru 6. Re jo Kin^ Oper INFLEC BY Infl whicl They are By the ; the pitch i ness or s upward o pronuncial fore, not ii So impo the mome: forceless a voicfi to adt in the mid demand Ih and, on the sense, requi tnediately j lion; 80 th alteniate. FLOCUTION, 87 emphasis )ractico in le Htiidnrit rnod from 3e of Hon- le variety on. It is greatest ist voice. inff, it is uttered, the only we are Jation, it :ion aud 4. Villains I you did not throat when your vile daggers y^ 'Uh. Hacked one another in tho sides of Crosar ! Yoii showed your teeth like apos, and fawned like hounds, l(^ And bowed like bondmen, kiHsin^r C^^sar's feet • Whilst damned Casoti, like a ciir, b('hind, v.«^u^ Struck Cfiesar on tho neck.— Oh 1 flatterers I ' 6. Rejoice, you men of Angiers I ring yonr bells King John, your king and England's, doth approach! ' Open your gates and give the victors way I INFLECTION-, CIRCUMFLEX, AND MONOTONE. INFLECTION. "n Y Inflection wo moan the axis, a slide of the voice on -^ which the variety, force, and harmony of speaking turns. They are tho great outlines of Pronunciation. By the rising and falling inflection of the voice is not meant the pitch in which tho whole word is pronounced, or that loud- ness or softness which may accompany any pitch ; but tho upward or downward slide which the voice makes, when the pronunciation of a word is finishing : and which rJiay, thero fore, not improperly be called the rising and falling inflection. So important is a just mixture of these two inflections, tha the moment they are neglected, our pronunciation becomes forceless and monotonous : if the sense of a sentence require the voice to adopt the rising inflection, on any particular word, either in the middle or at the end of a phrase, variety and harmony demand the falling inflection on one of the preceding words, and, on the other hand, if emphasis, harmony, or a completion of sense, require the falling inflection on any ivord, the word im- mediately preceding, almost always, demands the rising inflec- tion; so that these iuflections of voice are in an ordernearly alternate. 38 THB SIXTH READEK. orotund ™-ce, thf Jjct Irwri T '°'^ -^-""^ the ««M„od, requirta^ th. tremor TL, ^^^ " P""""'"- °' the .ofleotion will be short '' '"" P""'' <»' «'ow time, »w.ng cadence wiil take care „ntl w ' '""^ *^" *« M" « ha leading inflection b/appwlr ' JTf "" '^'■=«'^ -"ich •All complete or n„<,»; ^ *^ '^^ *'"<"^''n? rule • tie mm^ fe^,,.^,, ^^ ^ JP'"'". »r negative sentences have o vvora in the sentence. EXAMPLES m INFLECTIONS '* O' OV n, ^. ^ 6\ 1. Count 1' 1* 2' 2^ ov slow time, that inflections i then the fol- 1 decide which g" rule : falling infleo. JQtences have '■ iTtl "° 1 ^'^"^ ^'^^^^•^-' ^^" -Pon your knefes That ? ^^ '' '"'"■"^•■^ ^^^ P'i^- Ihat needs must light on this ingraStudeM duty, as to giv ^^zZtr ''' *^ "^ '''^"'"^^ -^ '-^^ forced upon it'?' ^^ *' "''"'"^^^ *h"« obtruded and CIRCUMFLEX "^ ..■l:.':i;tT;.; "■•°VL"'' ■•""-"•"-• »^ '-^ «f two expressed by them. Be surel^d f 7!^ ' ""'^'^' "^ «o«SH and you will fl„d „„ difflc„l,f ', f '*'?' •^'^""^ "»'• e.ly, if you have mastered the ^fe.' '"^""'^'"^ """^ P^P" Both these circumflex infl^.nf,^^r,„ -d », i„ a speech T^ZZTXlr^^'f^' '" ''" Like It." ^ Shakespeare's "As You thought but of an If^ as TvoT '^Z'^''^''''' <^"^ of them ^'6 I did you say J ' So hey "r, T' f " ' ^"''^ ^^- ^^ friends. *^'^ '^^"^^^ ^'^°ds and were sworu ml' I the inflection of the positiveTssortirnf r ' '^' '^'^'''''''' ^'^'^^-r> difference, doubt, or L^n ° "*' '"' *^« ''"^^g' ^"^e of in 40 THE SIXTH READER. Hamlet to Laertes. |^a,y»*J^ *'•' «'"'' f-^' ? woulH fe.r thyself? n, d„ it. ^„<,37™'' f I come here to u-kMef to outface »., with leaping in ZtZ> be b„ned ^.H. with her, and so will /•; and if thou prate of moun■,a^n., let them throw m Ws of acres on us 1 11 o^r ground, s,„gei„g her pate .gainst the burning zon. Ike ol THE MONOTONE. The Monotone is sameness of sound, arising from reneat- mgthe several words or syllables of a passage in onTa'd the same general tone. ^ EXAMPLES. 1. Man that ts bOrn of wOman, Is of fSw days and full of trouble He comsth forth like a flow.r, and Is cat down h, fl65tn also as a shadow, and cOntlnuSth not ' 2 Man d«th,and wastSth away: ySa, man givsth dp ths ghost, and where rs M As the waters fall frOnf th3 s i and the f,„„ eeayeth and drKth Op, so man Ir.th dOwn, Jd rls,^ :^:^c,ro;r:,:.:r'"'"^"''^^^^^^''**"^^^^ 3. For thns salth thS high and lofty One that InhabltStI, «e™.y, whose n.me Is Holy, I dwoll In th. high Snd ""y 4 Lord thou hast befn Om- dwelling-place In all g«„«rattOns Before h. mountains w.r« bronght forth, or .v5r thor. ads, ELOCUTIOlSr. 41 t wsep ? wouPt it. Dost thou : in her grave? thou prate of an us, till our me, make Ossa it as well as 5. In thoughts from the visions of the night, whSn dgSp sleep falleth on man,/mr came upon me and trembling which made all my bOngs to shako. Tlien a spirit passed belire my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still ; but I could not disce-rn the form thereof. An image was before my eyes ; there was silence ; and I heard a voice saying, "Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man bs more pure than his Maker'?" 6. Holy! HOLY I HOLY Lord God of Sabaoth ! T. Bless the Lord, ray soul ; and all that ia within me bless his holy name 1 from repeat- 5 in one and passage that and full of it down ; h§ f'Sth fip thg he sea, and , and rlseth ake, nOr b5 SngratrOns. thOfi hadst PAUSES. T\/^E have seen that the art of Elocution is the application of that system of rules which teaches us to pro- Bounce written composition with justness, energy, variety and ease. Agreeably to this definition, reading may be con- sidered as that species of delivery which not only expresses the sense of an author, so as barely to be understood but which, at the same time, gives it all that force, beauty deli- cacy, and variety of which it is susceptible; the first con- sideration depends upon grammatical pauses which separate clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, according to their sense— the last depends much upon rhetorical pauses which are intro- duced to give expression to the words of an author. The length of pauses are not fixed and invariable, and so cannot be brought under precise rules. There are however a few general principles which may be safely observed as far as they have application. One is, that the pause should be nronortionnd *q tH r-^o of utterance-the intervals of rest being comparatively lono when the rate is slow, and short when it is quick. i2 THE SIXTH READER. RULES FOR RHETCRICAL PAUSES. Role I. A long pause may be made before or after a wor,^ expressive of intense feeling. * ^^^^ Examples. 1 Banished 1 from Rome I What's banished, but set free f 2. And their youno- vt^ices rnsp I . ..^ ® ' Q A ^ J , , ^® -^ VENGEANCE CRY TO GoD f 3. Ana made | ,ne | a poor orphan boy ' 4. Stand-the ground's your own, my braves, o. -tlo I I man the puraps. 6. Beware-beware-the rapids are below you. of ^'word' ^ ''"'' '""' ^'°"^' "^^'^ - ^"^P-« - omission j^'xamples. 1. Their palaces were houses not made with hands • fh.' diadems ( crowns of glory ^ ' ^'^^^^ -. I brother,, kindness, and to Jitherl^dnt K'" thelTJd be":' "'^""^ '" "P"-'"™ *» <=-.. otI.e, Examples. ^ J^ The mora | was bright, but the eve | was douded and I Sr '."T*''" ""'' '■" '"'""'• I ^""o in ease • i 8- Those I call ,t pleasure, and contentment I these ' e.o":h^:hl^b:^::cr"'"^™'"-'^°-- ■Examples. 1. With famine and death | the destroying angel oame 2. To whom I the Goblin, full of wrnfi; .li.-.f '''"^• ^. J^ pangs of memory are | to madness^ fwrought ELOCUTION. i3 after a word but set free ? CRY TO God I ■i or omissioa andsj their to virtue ( I to teraper- d to godli- IS I charity. 2ach other, ouded and of a ame. sou- RtTLB V. Before and after an intervening phrase, there should be a short pause. Examples. 1. A company of waggish boys were watching of frogs at the side of the pond, and still as any of thera put up their heads they would be pelting them down again with stones • Children," (says one of the frogs,) "you never consider, that though this may be play to you, it is death to us.» 2. I had letters from him (here I felt in my p6ckets) that exactly spoke the Czar's character, which I knew perfectly well. ^ "^ Rule VI. Before conjunctions, or prepositions and similes, a pause is usually required. Exatnples. 1. I have watched their pastimes | and their labors 2. We must not yield | to their foolish entreaties. 3. He continued steadfast | like the spring-time. Rule VII. There should be a pause before a verb in the mfimtive mood, depending upon another verb. Examples. 1. He daily strove | to elevate their condition. 2. Do not dare | to lay your hands on the Constitution. 3. I had hoped I to have had an opportunity to oblige so good a friend. Rule VIII. Before the relative pr uns, who, which, that, and what, a pause is generally necessary. Examples. 1. Let us look forward to the end of that century I which has commenced. 2. Spirit I that breathest through my lattice, thou | That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day. ^lILjC 3. His natural instinct discovers | what knowledge caii per- form. *^ 44 THE SIXTH READER. «« , not a n.an of science | who did not investigate for us eTor m'd T^'' ''^'"*^°^^ ''^'^ '^^''^ ^-- ^f toil } thai ever made these great and good men weary. RtTLE IX An adjective placed after its noun, should be separated from it by a short pause. 1. He was a man-contented, virtuous, and happy. 2. I behold Its summit | noble and sublime. Rule X. A pause is required after the nominative case when .t m emphatic or consists of more than one word ' Examples. 1. A remarkable affair | happened yesterday. 2. To be devoid of sense f is a terrible misfortune. 3. Industry la the guardian of innocence ' though mau to Narrath Was foi sengers Personati "Hov *' Sev< "How "Thre "Isth "Dano you woui PERSONATIOiq-. J.u-^^-rU;, ■^E nean, by Personation in Elooution, tho cbange in Urn nLL-" ™ '""''"™' ""■> ""■<* »■• 1"''Hty of voToe from Bented hv H ^ ''°'^^' °" ^P^^^ers may be pre- sented by observmg certain peculiarities or changes in expres. fiion of countenance and voice. expres- EXAMPLES. ■ The stoJent BbouM to requireTlT^^TIZlrrr:: Personatwi "Aye, £ "Howe " South. "Head] tain. Nearer, the Cfvptaii "John A The resp "Canyu "ByGo( ELOCUTIOJi. 46 ^Zt'LTZ" """" " """"-"^ -^ '^ -O" «"« 'A Ship on Fire. wtic dashed on the fire, but in vain. There were large quantities of resin and tar on board, and it was found useless to attempt to save the ship. tL paL -ngevs rushed forward and inquired of the pilot ^ Personauon CMnge tke vaice for paesen.ers and piL. ' ilow tar are we from Buffalo ?" *' Seven miles." " How long- before we can reach there ?'• 18 there any danger ?'» "Banger 1 here-see the smoke bursting out-o-o forward'if you would save your lives." loiward if . oren '■rowdc-d the forward part of tiic ship. John -fw^J^ Maynard stood at the helm. The flamoa bm,t ciiea out through his trumpet : "John Maynard |'> Personation. "Aye, aye, sir I" " Are you at the helm ?»» " Aye, aye, sir I" " How does she head ?» " South-east by east, sir." ^^.•^Head her aouth-east and run her on .hore," said the cap the^rZ; """•'."*'"""'''■ ''''"pP™^<^''^'J"'»«l>'»'e- Again ine cp.ptain cried out : -^b^'u "John Maynard 1" The response ca,„e feebly this time, "Aye, aye. sir I" 46 THE SIXTH READER. The old man's huir was 8Corchf>f1 fiv.m +v ^ t disabled, his W„e„ upon tl.o 1 io Id ,:: ,^;,°- '^ s „t,.o,. band „p„„ the wheei, ho ato^d fi™ „ f ^ ' "h boachod the sh,p ; every man, wo,„a„, and child was satd t John Maynard dropped, and hi» spirit took U flight ^'l The Power of Habit. ne voice should bo cTutnged to personate each speaker I remember onee riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Pall« and sa,d to a gentleman, " What river is that, sir ?" ^ That," said he, "is the Niagara River." '' Well, it is a beitutifnl stream," said I ; "bright, and fair and glossy ; how far off are the rapids ?" ' " Only a mile or two," was the reply. "Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the water m the turbulence which it must show when near the " You will find it so, sir." And so I found it ; and the fir.t and glassy. There is a r.pple at the bow ; the silver wake you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. Down the t"a , you ghde, oars, sails, an^^ helm in proper trim, and you se ou • on your pleasure excursion. Suddenly som 1^:^ from the bank, "Young men, ahoy j" "What is it?" " The rapids are below you I" Laughter. "Ha I ha I we have heard of the rapids, but we are not 8uch fools as to set there. I^we go too fa t, then we shaU y>u up w,th the heln. and steer to\e shore , we will set Z tZ .n the socket hoist the sail, and speed to the land. Tta o boys ; don't be alarmed ; there is no danger » Great force. " " Young men, ahoy there !" " What is it ?» " The rapids are below you 1" Narrative. We ELOCUTION. Ta-S SiNKINa CuMBERLAm). 47 yc^'atir,e. We felt onr vessel sinking, fast, ^^^^,.- We knew our time was brief Ho I s^ap the pumps I» But those who worked. Ar>d fought laot, wept with grief. Peraonalion. "Oh Irpon „c u x i un, Keep us but an hour afloat 1 Oh, give us only time To mete unto yon rebel crew The measure of their crime I" Narrative. From captain down to powder-boy No hand was idle then • Two soldiers, but by chance aboard Fought on like sailor-men. up to the spar-deck I save yourselves V Cried Selfndge. "Up. my men! God grant that some of us may live To fight yon ship again j" we turned,— we did not like to go • Yet staying seemed but vain ' Knee-deep in water; so we left- Some swore, some groaned wi'th pain. We reached the deck Ttio,.^ w j n fersamHon. "Anothpr +., Ti^nMl stood t Another turn, men,— so I" Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun : "Now, Tenny, let her go 1" ^^ati^e. It did our sore hearts good to hear The eong our pivot sang. As. rushino- on frmr- -i-o - ■ _ — --, uii nom \vavu to wave, . Ihe whirring bomb-shell sprang. 48 THE SIXTH READER. Bravo Randall leaped upon the gun, And waved his cap in sport ; Permmium. "Well done I w.Il aimed 1 I saw that «heU Go through an opcm port." Harraiiit. It was our last, our deadliest shot ; The deck was overflown • The poor ship stagjjered, lurched to port, And gave u living groan. Down, down, as headlong through the waves Our gallant vessel rushed, A thousand gurgling watery sounds . ■ Around my souses gushed. THE STUDY OF EXPRE3SI0N. The practice of reading or reciting a.oud, selections con- taming different emotions and passions, secures variety ol expression. The student should try t^ personate the passion or enter so fully into the meaning of the quotation that he' will vary the pi^cA, /orce, and voice to correspond wi+a the euiotion. The organs of speech should be so disciplined as to adapt themselves naturally and easily to all the changes, even the most abrupt and frequent, that are required in continuous reading, or speaking. This comprehends the particulars in the above analysis, and secures variety of expresBion, which is the great object to be gained by the student of elocution. t isholl port, 3 waves ictions con- variety ol he passion, cm that he I wita the 8 to adapt I, even the continuous lars in the hich is the 0. II. READING LESSONS. TH [The follow: from a sketch field, thtJ Tiffm becue. ' ' ^,>^An invitaiic "" Bome thirty yt sat, and "the puw'^'ie bordere In reply to the strain of iii8pir( T OOK at ^ See its liquid gems I liaud of the or smoking rounded by I'liptions, dot] essence of lif( and grassy d( loves to play I ; THE SIXTH HEADER. -* «i * i» ^ PART II. RHETOEICAL. 1. APOSTROPHE TO WATER [The following, though ascribed to John B Goi.'^h i« in , .i. from a sketch of Paul Denton, the Texmml^ I . '' ;^ ''^ "*™*^ field, the novi de plmne of Judcre L w by Charles Summer- becue." ^ ^^^ ^™°8^' """^'^ "Paul Denton's Bar- i.y>An iavitation had been issupH f„r ,k» L^ some thirty years agoTo attTd f . . ^""u^"' ^ ^^^ '""^^ T«^^°« of 'ut. and "[ho best of Hquo" ' •""'^^^ "'^" ^'"^ ^^"'^^ '^^ P^-ty to pijn«v'''l»e borderers came, found .ahnnrlur,^^ ^e In reply to their rude demand fo t S D Tf "^''' '"* '"* "'l""^- Btrain of inspired eloquence ] ^""^^ ''^*" '''' ^°"«^'°« J^OOK at that, ye thirsty ones of earth I Behold it I W fn ., '' ^ ^'""'^^" *^^<= ^^« brewed by the v P hand of the Almighty himself Not in fi,n • • >^4^V «v 1 • „ *"ioeu. I'Noc in the simmennff sfill ...u .™s, del,, wheve t.e red de^; wanderan" 7 """ loves to plaj.1 There God brewa I'liilii it> and down, down in the 52 THE SIXTH READER. AUAJftOtV ^^' .VVi. ^^iJ^^ deepest vallejs, where the fountaina murmur and the riUs i «ng ; and high upon the tali mountain-tops, where the naked granite glitters hke gold in the sun, where the storm-clouds'""^ brood and the thunder-storms crash ; and away out on the Mxlowy sea, where the hurricanes howl music; and the bi« waves roar the chorus, chanting the mai-ch of God-there He brews at, that beverage of Hfe-health-givino- water 2. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty-gleaming in the dew-drop, singing in the summer rain, shining in the ice- gem, till the trees all seem turned into livint^ jewels- i Bpreadinff a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze,.J around the midnight moon-sporting inthe cataract, sleepino-'^ ^ m the glaciers, dancing in the hail shfcs-folding its biLlTt .curtain softly about the wintry Vorld, and weaving the many- colored iris, that ,eraf,lvs zone of the sky, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checkered over with celestial flowers by llie mystic hand of rarefaction-still always it is beauti- I ful, that blessed hfe-water I No poison bubbles on tho brink 1^.. Its foam brings no sadness or murder; no blood-stains in its bmpid glass; broken-hearted wives, pale widows, and starv- mg orphans shed no tears in its depths ; no drunkard's shrink- ing ghost, from the grave, curses it in words of eternal despair. Beautiful, pure, blessed, and glorious I give me for- ev*jr the sparkhng, cold water I t . VDOOB AbbINQTON. 3. OUR TITLES. A RE we not Nobles? we who trace ■^^ Our Pedigree so high, That God for us and for our race Created Earth and Sky, And TiifrJif o>>,l » -•-, _ J rn. - „ To serve ui^, and then die. paodi, and the riUg 3re the naked storm-clouds Y out on the and the bia d— there He ter. {gleaming in g in the ice- ig jewels — white gauze, 54; lot, sleeping '' ig its bright ar the many- woof is the tial flowers t is beauti- i the brink |4a stains iu its and starv- rd's shrink- of eternal ive me for- lBBINQTON. EHETORICAL. a Are we not Princes? we who stand As heirs, beside the Throne; We who can call the promised land Our Heritage, our own ; And answer to no less command Than God's, and His alone. 3. Are we not Kings? Both night and day, From early until late, About our bed, about our way, A guard of Angels wait ; And so we watch, and work, and pray In more than royal state, 4. Are we not holy? Do not start: ' k<-i.o^^- It is God's sacred will To call us Temples set apart His Holy Ghost may fill; Our very food Oh hush, my heart, VJU« Adore It and be still I 6, Are we not more? Our life shall be Immortal and divine; The nature Mary gave to Thee Dear Jesus, still is Thine;—' Adoring in Thy Heart I see Such blood as beats in mine. SZ God, that we can dare to fail, And dare to say ^ we must I God, that we can ever trail ^^\ Such banners in the dust Can let such starry honors pale, ^mlt And such a Blazon rust! 54 THE SIXTH ilEADER. Shall we upon such Titles brin^ The taint of sin and shame ? ShaJl we, the children of the Kin^ Who hold so grand a claim Tarnish by any meaner thing,' The glory of our name? J^isa A. A. Pbootob. .».»,■■ from „hich we tl Ibf r,,':-'" r^'"""''' " apWella', u" woaltt whld, the „.„,t of thl ™ " I .°°"" "" "^ ""-' '"'"'™«« tiB8,l„,a of Great Britain.] "^ ''■ """'"«" '""«'«" Jid* to the Their health, physical and mo^'alt ^r^ 7"' "''"'' "^ "'«>•*■ of diaeases i„d„ced by unremto ,', " f I T"^'^ ' "'"^ "'- of n,et.,ho „rvo,eta,Ie d t Xh thTare ' ''^ '''"'''' talirig; or they live to .rrnw „ ., '^"""■'nally in- confer., and wHho,, hope^ Tulf"'"'"",' "^"^y- "'*o„e ■ '0 t.ead in the .a™e path f ^ ^^ ^'--. *e the^elves, laboring aianufactnrer. are in „ dwelln.gs of the inch of ,.nd ia f Ih J V thT'"' ^•='''"' "^--e every he ..(Torded then, """ """^ '^"^ ''?h' ""d air cannot BHETORICAL. 55 ^. A. Phootob. J DISTRICTS. ible Eeviewer, is ' Espriella's Lefc. ■e of the actua] to the immense rs yields to the 3tion and all instinctively 'ep by night. 3d ; they die confinement he particles itinnally in- 3y, without ut religion, themselves, ^"gs of the tnes, block fiuse every air cannot f lodge in 8 suffered care can so iTnaii-D J rarely or never without an infectious fever amono- *h their own. which Ipav.« 1 7 ^^ ^"^""8^ them; a plague of ^-^m; it spits ow T'""^ "'™^'' "■» """ta »y- -n., inaeea, .fees ™i.n„r 2 1 Ct'Sse^t; ""T in the days of Elizabeth • +K^ . i " thousands ^ «.at it wL a oerrfagf ^'""""^ '^ ^'''^ «"- *« »-^ dot wJX"e'g::™s:/f%f "°* "- ^'-'^ »f ^- where, at tl,e r distance of t me 1h r ' """"' ''"^• . they whose grr. f .Lers Hin.^ » ! ""' ■"" »"«! ^■•ers, and J. the ;:!„ " j LTLn™'" '™"''' by the light of wanen f«™rc, * T """■ "* down to partako of de "acls fiCr f ° ""°' "»"" ^"^'■•' "-O B,.t the n™h„s ofX IZ Z'Z :XZfJlf"''- have continued to increase. «""erings of t\^ poor 4ZXTJ7:zZiTTr° ""•'^^ *° *- °™ I cannot e Jess to~Mi^l;V''f *'^ ™*''°»- with which all the docen nl! *, ''T'''^'"^''^ ""^ dread tion of a life of Zl'r T, T , '° ""' ™*<^'«''' t*™'"- p.™-shn,ent; nnLt -ed ':on;rn'':;* ctl?'!" •""™"" livered, and poor orphans and b.^rtchM '"/^ "" , "P here till they are of a..e to hr„ " '"'° ^™S^* ^ .-..n.ates are" those un^lm- Ll„, W"-™"™-! °ff; the other '^^*^ uiyiappj j^ple who are utterlv luW,.i Paiifih Idiots and madmen the blin.l o ,;""^'7 ''^^^P'^ss ;- old, who are fairly worn-out ' '^' P"^^^'^^' ^"^ '^^ 6. It is not in the nature of thino-s thaf ih. ;r ^..ch institutions a, these,sho;^ . ^.,e h^^rt'' the suponntandencL is i,nrlL.f„i fe^f'^'e neaited, when \iK ^ . . '"*^'' '« undertaken merelv fnr +1, 1 " ^'---=^X=i::f:z:r-^:i^: 56 THE SIXTH READER. pravity and suffering-. The management of children who gro\» up without one natural affection, where there is none to love them, and, < .nsequently, none whom they can love, would alone be pufficieut to sour a happier disposition than is usually iv- brought to the government of a workliouse. To this society of wretchedness the laboring poor of England look as their last resting-place on this side of the grave ; and, rather than enter abodes so miserable, they endure the severest privations as long as it is possible to exist. 1. We talk of the liberty of the English, and they talk of their own liberty ; but there is no liberty in England for the poor. Tlwy i^-e no longer sold with the soil, it is true ; but they cannot quit the soil, if there be any probability or sus- picion that age or infirmity may disable them. If, in such a case, they endeavor to remove to some situation where they hope more easily to maintain themselves— where work is more plentiful or provisions cheaper— the overseers are alarmed ; the intruder is apprehended, as if he were a criminal, and sent back to his own parish ! 8. mierever a pauper dies, that parish must be at the cost of his, funeral ; instances, therefore, have not been want- ing of wretches J in the last stage of disease having been hurried away in an open cart upon straw, and dying upon the road I Nay, even women in the very pains of labor have been driven out, and have perished by the way-side, becaor.e the birth-place of the child would be its parish ! EOCTHET. 4. THE MISERERE AT ROME. npHE night on which our Saviour is supposed to have died, ■*- is selected for this service. The Sistine Chapel is dimly ' lighted, to correspond with the gloom of the scene shadowed forth. . . . 2. The ceremonies commenced with the chanting of the La- RHETORICAL. «7 mentations Thirteen candles, in the form of an erect triangle were .ghted up in the beginning, representing the different moral hghts of the ancient Church of Israel. °One after an other was extn.guished as the chant proceeded, until the last and brightest one at the top, representing Christ, was put 3. As they one by one slowly disappeared in the deepenin<, ' gloom a blacker night seemed gathering over the hopes and nue of man and the lamentation grew wilder and deeper. -" but as the Prophet of prophets, the Light, the Hope of the world, disappeared, the lament suddenly ceased. Not a sound was heard amid the utter darkness. 4 The catastrophe was too awful, and the shock too rreat to ad^uifc of speech. He who had been lamenting in m^um-" ful notes the recent decease of the good and great, seemed struck utter y dumb at this bitterest woe. Stunned and stupe- hed. he could not contemplate the mighty disaster. I never felt a heavier pressure on my heart thr . at this moment. 5. The chapel was packed in every inch of it, even out of <>.h^ the door far back into the ample hall, and yet not a sound wa. heard. I could hear the breathing of the mighty multitude and amid it the suppressed half-drawn sigh. Like the chanter' each man seemed to say, " Christ is gene; we are orphans-all orphans !" 6. The silence at length became too painful. I thou-ht 1 should shriek out in agony, when suddenly a low wa"il so desolate and yet so- sweet, so despairing and yet so tender hke the last strain of a broken heart, stole slowly out from the' distant darkness and swelled over the throng, tiiat the tears rushed unbidden to my eyes, and I could have wept like a child for sympathy. t. It then died away, as if the grief were too great for the Btrain. Painter and fainter, like the dying tone of a lute, it WJ"- snnk away, as if the last sigh of sorrow was ended wlL ' siKuleniy ti.ere burst through the arches a crv soni.r.i^o- .^A shrill that it seemed not i*^*^ voice of song, but the langu ia-(i 68 THE SIXTH BEADEB. Of a wounded and dying heart in its last a^onizin^ ihrnWu. The .ulitude swayed to it li.e the forest to th' blTsf ^\ o. Again It ceased, and broken Roha r.f i alone we Leard. T.en aU t ehotjot d n" t f' Went and .ee.ed to weep „it, the ^Z, AiJTZ It t/" T'-l" ""' *" "^ "''■ ^ ™'"'^d to =»e tbe ringer b „T ■ "l """" ""'""'^ "■'"''' "o-o fro-" notbiL tot a Hkadiet. «. ST. PETER'S. Pje.n.^.e the eo:: I™ It, 1 ' ^ f. ---;= ^ left in a bold Z-ilt' ^'"™ ^« °" "> "'o -8" -d :=o/Zb'::t:-;;:ri^^^^ bj a single row of On.-infi n ^* '' ^^''''^ '^ supported "HETOBIOAI,. „ node of coupled pillars ,1,., ™ '--. the g,.ee J ZTj^^' """ ^^^"^^^^ i'« ™. -"M and expansive ,w ,,„,., e™"™*: '"'^ "°'°™''^«- *!■« - ed on a „,„,»„ ofooluCL and 7 ' "" "' W™-c.'"-^ '» "'e skies, ail perfect in theirkldT"^ ""' "^ "■"• <"•"- -" and singula., edaibition il't t^e ^ *'° "°^' '-?-«- oonlcaplated. On each side a """' "^^ P""'''''?' ever reflects the grandeur, Id adl :T r"'"''- ™'"S pL,d„ tte principal dome. ^ ""' « '""» l" the majesty of -ltt:;r:d°f:^-terr^ '^* -= — -' e^^at. which so maguiSeeat r *^P««'»«°", however '^-e lofty portals o^en ilt Z n! T"" """^' '"'™ »-ed. . I"? ■" dimensions and de^raH ^ ° "^ ^^^bulum, a gal- cathedrals. ^-oor^Uons .^ual to the most s^aciTus «%if Cltltd :t ■■" '»"^'^- --'-'» ^oi,ht and ;j«t vault, adorn'ed wi.r*„:rXt '''''''' ~ '^* 'ehevos, and term-'oated at hJt' P''"^'"™' "'osaic, and basso- o-e of Constantino, the otheVoTch: Ju '^ ^^™^'™" «'^'-t '• A fountain at p^^k . ^naueniag-ue. * -0 ieap a reservoir a^s m"^ 'T''' " "™"' ^"ffloient -"7 Object, and perpt ^ ^''^f a'd "'"' °* "^ "- 'f pavement. Opposite th/fi ^"^ '"'"^y ^e air and ll «ve doors of tl^ church thZ^ 'h "' *^ ^^^"'^"'^ - tte finest marble ; that i„ .b mMle L ?' ' """ P"'"™ "f 8- As y„„ eater, y„„ behold "'""''''' "^ ""■""^e. -^-Btruoted by human art ex' !," ""'' ^^'™-ve hall ever z T't ''"■' ^<'™«"/np o „: '"'"""""" p-p" fl r\ 1 """^'^s^'un as von na.o 7 ^^ arches, »• -out how e-rpat ., "^ t'^®^ alono-. ' """ "^'""■•^"-'" w'.en^you reach ... ^^UiUl so THE SIXTH BEADEH. tmptf ,:'"'■ """ "^"'""S^ '" "' ■ ™"«- of tho cl„,rcl, con temp ato the f„„r snporb vf.,ta9 that open around y„n . and then ra„e y„„r eye, to the dome, at the prodi.iona elev'^tln o o„ h„„d„d feet, extended like a n™,an;n „: Ty „ J.«t, the cho.rs of celestial spirits, „„d the whole hierarchy of ^^^;: .eave„ a^yed in the presence of the Eternal, uhoso'hle X "f ' -JfTbove all height," crowns the awfiu scene. ' to. When you have feasted your eye with the irrandnnv „f arts'T""*" ^^'"■''■'"■"" '" '"' -'""■ yo» wnirnt t ' par s, he ornaments, and the fnrnitnre, which jou will find ."emp^U^'T"'";-^ 1'^ *'' ■""'-'"■•«-"' '™^ ' nde^d wlf ■ ;"■"""""' O"™ "- f«"- "ther cnpolas, small indeed when compared to its stupendons magnitude bnt ol grea boldness when considered sep.arately, six more hree on erther s,de, cover the different divisions of the a L and »>x more of greater dimensions can py as nnany chap 'r lo speak more properly, as many churches. ' ^1C.- 'i' '^"'''°*^ "'f"-™"- cupolas are like"tlie grand dome itself ^^"JaSd w,e|, i„, . ^^,,^^ of the mastrpTec Iff pa,nt,„g „h,eh formerly ^ced this edifice, have been re beaut es of the ongn.als, nnpressed on a more solid and dura- be substance. The aisles and altars are adorned with nl- berless anfque pillars, that border the church all around Td form a secondary and subservient order ,^N^ wi-h'fJsr ""'■'■'sated wall,, are, in many places, ornamented ^y wuh festoons, wreaths, ang, Is, tiaras, crosses, and medallions .r r "f th'" '"'«'™ " '"""'' PO"'"'-- Therede rJ ndo,r„ T' ""T''"' "-'' '■•'"■«^' ^P-ies of marble, and often of excellent workmanship, rarions monuments rise m d.flerent parts of the church ; but, in their si.e and accom In th • . '^ "'""'"'' '""'"'• "' P'"-'« of the original Mmired for thcr groups and exquisite sculpture, and <-.rm BHETORIOAL. 61 SlT'^''"'"' ^'''"''' "'" "'' ornamental part of this noble 13. The high altar stands under the dome, and thus as it is he most ..portant, so it becomes the most striking object. In order to bnng .t cut-in strong rehef and full effect! accord- ing to the anient custom still retained ix the patriarchal churches at Eome, and in mo«t of the cathedrals in Italy a ulty canopy nses above it, and forms an intermediate break or repose for the eye between it and the immensity of the dome U. The form, materials, and magnitude of this decoration ^ are equally astomshing. Below the steps of the altar, and of course some distance from it, at the corners, on four mas- 8.ve pedestals, nse four twisted pillars fifty feet in height, and t^^ support an entablature which bears the canopy itself topped wuh a C..SS The whole soars to the elevatfon of one hun- dred and thirty-two feet from the pavement, and, excepting the es tals, ,s of Corinthian brass ; the most lofty massL ;ork of that, or of any other metal, now known. 15. But this brazen edifice, for so it may be called not- «^a.m"v, wuhstan ,ng .ts mngnitude, is so disposed as not to ob t." t the view by concealing the chancel and veiling the Cathedra or Cnair of St. Peter. This ornament is also of broVze ami consists of a group of four gigantic figures, represen ini t four principal Doctors of the Greek and Latin chm-ohos, sup! porting the patriarchal chair of St. Peter. The chair is a lofty ye elevated to the height of seventy feet from the ,IZ n^ent; a circular window tinged with yellow,throws from above a mild splendor around it, so that the who'le not unfitly represents the pre-eminence of the Apostolic See, and is a,^ tion to the first of Christian temples. EUCTAOX. ' ^4\t ea THE SIXTH READER. 2 6. SONa OF THE STABS. •U/-HI;N tl,e radiant mora of creation broke i I ., ™''''' '■" ""= ™"» "f Ood awoke Vrr^rr. ,u \, "^^' ^"■' spheres of flame. Prom the void abyss by myriads came, In thejoy of youth, as tbeydartodawL . v T rou,h the Widening was'tes of spaceT; p,ay '^^ Their silver voices in chorus run/ ^ ^' And this was the song that the briht ones sung: Away away, through the wide, wide sky, Tlie fair blue fields that before us lie. Eacu sun with the worlds that round us roll Each planet poised on her turning pole ' With her i.,es of green, and her douds of white And her waters that lie like fluid light! ' " AndThf h ^Tr °^ ^'"'-^ ""^^^«^« his face, And we drmk, as we go, the luminous tides L. In our ruddy air and our blooming sides , ' Lo I yonder the liv'-.g splendors play -J Away, on your joyous path away I ' ■ •- w ..., ^,,,, ,,,^^, ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ 8 HA! ej Medi tacle of lij 18. to escap tation of : Hsten to h swell of tl beats in sy energy_cl] pression ! 2. What ^ ^tK / BHETORICAL. es iUMA. 6. 1. . And see, where the brighter day-beu.ns pour How the rainbows hang iu the «unny shower I Shift o'LTl'V.'?"'' "^'^ '•"'^ P''"^P '' ^^"-' ^-^ blw ft oer the bnght phinets and shed their dewar And twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground. u;.u With her shadowy cone, the night goes round. ^ In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours. fi.>, ^..^ In the seas and^untains that shine with morn ^^ See, love is brooding, and life is bo e..,., J, And breathing myriads are breaking irom night To rejoice, like us, iu motion and light. Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres I r^r,^ To weave the dance that measures the years • ' Glide on in the glory and gladness sent To the farthest wall of the fln.iiunont; The boundless, visible smile of Him, ' To the veil of whose brow our lamps are dim. Bbtamt. 7. THE SEA. JJA ! exclaimed I, as I sprang upon tne broad beach of the , J- Mediterranean and my spirit drank the splendid spec ^.^ ta le of hgh and life that spread befo;:?me-wL a relief ' .8^0 escape from the straining littleness and wearisome affeo- ation of men, to the free, majestic, and inspiring sea-to well of th" ''""' "'^''' ''''"'-'' "'^^^^ *'- unt^meled L^k well of these pui. waters, till the pulse of our o"^ heart V beats m sympathetic nobleness-to behold it heave in untirina- 1 I energy changing momently in form, changing never ^Z '^ pression ! « o m* 2. What joy is it to be sure that here there is nothing coun. 04 THE SIXTH READER tuift'it -nothing fei-jnod— nothing: artinti;i\ | Fcoling, hero,. grapples with what will never fulter ; imagination hero may Hprcad its best-plumed wings, but will never outstrip the real There Js h(;re none t.i that tear which never leaves tho haiidi- craf; of art— the fear of penetrating beneath tho surface ol beauty. Hero man fids his nuijesty by feeling his nothing iiess ; for the majesty of man lies in his conceptions, aj»d tliu ^ conception of self-nothingness is tho grandest wo can have. VvvviX**^ '^'^^^^ '^f"'^'^ '^"d ftoxious passion-mist, which wo call our soul, is driven without ; and our true soul— the soul of tho universe, which we are — enters into us. 3. The spirit which rests like a vapor visibl\ upon tho bosom of the waters, is a presence and a pervading power: and the breath which it exhales is life, and love, and splendid Btrength. Nothing in nature renders back to man the lull and instant sympathy whicli is accorded by the Mighty BeiiK- who thus reposes Tnildly in the generous grandeur of 11^1 glorious power. We may love the forms oC tho trees, tlio colors of the sky, and the impressive vastness of the hills; but we can never animate them with a soul of life, and por- snado ourselves that they experience the feeling which they cause. 4. But the sea, as its countenance shows its myriad mntii- tions with tlie variety and rapidity of the passions which sport through the breast of man, seems truly to return the emotior, which is breathed towards him ; and fellowship and friend- ship—yea, and personal aflbction— are tho sentimentB which i**^ his gambols rouse in the spectator's heart. The flashing?' gmiles that sparkle in his eye— are they not his happy |:^,...«,A*.^.,_ houghts? and the rippjes that fliVUieir scouring dance over his breast— are they not feelings of delight that agitato his frame ? 5. Whether 1 am amid mountains or on plains, there is not an hour in which ray existence is not haunted by thj^emcm- brance of the ocean. It abides beside nie like a th^ht of my mind ;— it occupies my total fancy ;— I ever seem to "stand m *^i*t- tl-^ 1*- »'^<- ^«M%««, r the firs ime .t startles a feeling in the secret mind which has ne " b f^e .n wakened ,n this world, giving „s a.,suranco of anote' ^fc, d tho strongest proof that our soul is essentiali; ^ Wallace. <^ 8. BURNING OP MOSCOW. -iirxr r= -r;,"™ '""-■-"■■' "-«---": T'lt::i;;L'lf ™!!^'"- .."•-™ -> — b,e wan- „, „.,i„j,;,. ;, ,'"■■" '-•»'>•«" tns iJuiperor's imagination, and -enndled those dreatna of Oriental conquest „i;^„h fro.n |,i. 6« THE SIXTH READER. earliest yoars had floatf^d in his mind. His followers, din- persed over the vast extent of the city, gazed with astonish- ment^n the sumptuous palaces of the nobles and.Jhe gilded domes of the churches. ^k 2. The mixture of architectural decoration and shady foliage, of Gothic magnificence and Eastefn luxury, excited the admi' ration of the French soldiers, more susceptible than any other people of impressions of that description. Evening came on : with increasing wonder the French troops traversed the cen- tral parts of the metropolis, recently so crowded with passen- gers ; but not a living creature was to be seen to explain the universal desolation. It seemed like a city of the dead. 3. Night approached : an unclouded moon illuminated those beautiful palaces— those vast hotels, those deserted streets • all was still— the silence of the tomb. The officers broke open the doors of some of the principal mansions in search of sleep- ing quarters. They found every thing in perfect order : the bedrooms were fully furnished, as if guests were expected ; the drawing-rooms bore the marks of having been recently in- habited ; even the work of the ladies was on the tables, the keys in the wardrobes ; but not an inmate was to be seen. By degrees a few of the lowest class of slaves emerged, pale and trembling, from the cellars, showed the way to the Bleep- ing apartments, and laid open every thing which these sump tuous mansions contained; but the only account they could give was, that the inhabitants had fled, and that they alone were left in the deserted city. 4. But the terrible catastrophe soon commenced. On the night of the 13th September, 1812, a fire broke out in the Ex- change, behind the Bazaai, which soon consumed that noble edifice, and spread tiirough a considerable part of the crowded streets in the vicinity. This, however, was but the prelude to more extende calamities. 5. At midnight on the 15th, a bright light was seen to illu- minate the r -rthern and: \restern parts of the city; and flip sentinels on duty at the Kremlin soon saw that the splendid RIIETOUICAL 67 buildings in those quarters were in (k.nes Tim w," i i. . repeatedly in the niffbt- but to w T ^''" ^'"^^ changed the conflagration oxt!>nd;d L .^^^11^^"- '' ^^^^^ ^ stant seen breaking, out in .11 ^- ! "" ^^"'^ ^^ exhibited the app ^ranee of se '""7 ' ^'^^ ^^^— -«« .utumnal tempest added to tl,e 1„ r" „f the ^^ "•" "' seemed as if the wrath of fT,., \ I "'"""' '• " city was wrapped in flames ; and vol" Z „f fi T * coiors asee„ded to the heav'cs i/m ™ p aL; di^ "'™°' prod,gio„s l,gl,t „„ all sides, and an , Ltelelf Th^ " masses of iianie thrpw nnf o r- w,- , ,""^''*^'*^ "eat. These explosions, th efet of tt t I ' """''• ""^ '"'"^ a.d other 'coll if:™;:™ °' ""■'-. -™. ^piHts, 01- the warehouses were filled "'" '^'■"'""^ P»« feet hurricane. The howlinc. nf +v. * ' * ' ^ P®'"' r.« of the confla; a ": r wMe h"'"' "'"'""'' "™" ""' the whirl of the nfassn;- "^''"'^ '"'■""^ """'e dlied with »«es ..d mid r :; ::; ;i;fasT' "'r'; "^ °" "" bravest hearts, auhdned 1^ t e blit. 71^ " "°" "'" feding of hunrm i,„„„t„ 8"^l"nity of the scene, and the .,,,f/_° ,_""'•'" ""P°«"'='-' "> the midst of such elemental -....-=.,„ and tre.nUed in silence. _ A.^^t^. --""™ *• '"" '■'•■'"'■" "'""^ 'i" ' ''""".-I. ti.e terro^'of the coo 68 THE SIXTH READER. tjC^k^^ \ ^vi^; »\ flagration. An immense crowd of people, who had taken refuge in the cellars or vaults of buildings, came forth as the flames reached the dwellings ; the streets wore filled witti multitudes flying in every direction with the most precious articles of furniture ; while the French army,' whoso discipline this fearful event had entirely dissolved, assembled in drunken crowds, and loaded themselves with the spoils of the city. Never in modern times had such a scene been witnessed. The men were loaded with valuable furniture and rich goods, which often took fire as they were carried along, and which they were obliged to throw down to save them- selves. 9. Women had sometimes two or three children on their backs, and as many led by the hand, while, with trembling steps and piteous cries, they sought their devious way through the labyrinth of flame. Many old men, unable to walk, were ^ra-n^ on hurdles, or wheelbarrows, by their children and grandchildren, while their burned beards and smoking gar- ments showed with what difficulty they had been rescued from death. 10. French soldiers, tormented by hunger and thirst, and released from all discipline by the horrors that surrounded them, not content with the booty in the streets, rushed head long into the burning houses to ransack their cellars for wine and spirits, and beneath the ruins great numbers perished miserably, the victims of intemperance and the. flames, Meanwhile the fire, fanned by the tremendous gale, advanced with frightful rapidity, devouring alike, in its course, the palaces of the great the temples of religion, and the cottages of the poor. 11. For thirty-six hours the conflagration continued at its height, and in that time about nine-tenths of the city was destroyed. The remainder, abandoned to pillage and deserted by the inhabitants, offered no resources for the army. Jtlos- cow had been conquered, but the victors had "-aiued onl" a heap of ruins. KHETOBIOAL. 69 . ■'A l.nas,r,ation cimiot conccVe tl,e horrors into ,vh!oh the people .„. c„„la not abandon their hon»os wore pi , led t «m unparalleled sacrifice. Bereft of every thi„./,hov waZ de,.d a^on, the ruins, eagerly searchi„/f„r ™7s 5 X equally l,y the l.centious soldiery and the sulTering native, -h,lo „„„,bers rushed in fr„™ the neighboring .ount'; Tj share m the general license. ° ^ ■*<^'^y. East In- ^. ■1 dmu and Turk sh stuffs, stores of wine and brandy, gold and —Til !"''■ ""'""'' '■■^"="'"^^ °f -* -0 -t.^ <-^^ P oy of he least .ntoxfcated among the multitude. A fri-ht. ful tumult succeeded to the stillne,, which had rei^-ned in°t e c. y when the French troops m-st entered it. The ^ries of o p.llaged .nhabnauts, the coarse imprecations of the soMie,. were m.ngled with the lamentations of those who had lost " 1 rumversal , the ru.ns were covered with motley groups of sol- , . "Horse horse I" t ho -n, i cowers. '' -r„ B. s.u he Ltd K-Cc;:--- "^-''' A royal messenger he came, Thoiigh most unworthy of the name. Aletterfo..gedI St. Jude to spe^d ,' Did ever kn.ght so foul a deed? J ^ S . Mary mend my fiery ,„od, I,;; TisX fV^ '" ^^^ere he stood. A'S pity of hnn, too," ho cried ; n 72 THE SIXTH READER. '' Bold can he speak and fairly ride,- 1 -varrant him a warrior tried." With this his -nandate he recalls, And slowly see lis his castle's halls. 8ro^, ^C*\<£. 10. THE Si/MMER OF KINGS. J WAS one evening on the Ohio, when the river wa. -»• swollen with recent rains. The .-u-r-nt ^vu^ ^.. • ~ q..-ck,,, b„.,ith . placidity which :e™i:;.d ..r f ! r '] provcrt,, ,1,,. ..s„,„„,h watc- n,„s deep." It wa. e:..lV;„ May. . ., „kv ..^3 pare. Thin clouds, with softened outlines the north. p- idy with one another, were moving towards '-- wn.s Sdmethin^ in the air vhich, if not vivifyirif?, if v.r^ genial, was quietTng, 2. It wa« an evening when good^'hearts migi^t have been "hi ''''\}T''^^^^^' '' "^* -^th'n.nrnf:h!:: ^ot with the mourntulness which comes from anguish, and pervades our nature as if with faint pulsations of a sabsidin! struggle but with that mournfulness which accompanies the recollections of home and is tempered a.d sweetened and up with the love of old scenes and faces, and the hope o seeing them once more. ^ 3 From the various incidents that were going on in the boat about me, and the varying features of the scene through which we were gliding, I turned to one object, which L more forcibly than the rest, attracted my attention It was a sycamore-tree--a noble-looking tree ; noble in its proportions noble in Its profusipn, noble in its promise in.^'ot"'^.^' ^"'^' "'"'"!'' ''' °" ''' *°P™"^* ^^^"«b««' «trik. ing out their wings and uttering their quick notes of joy Oh I with what u sweet thrill came forth the liquid scng from hat waving, sparkling foliage, and how confident h . de the O^tM ,ooker.on, that the tree from which it gushed in a sa^ Dainglinc str«amo ^..-v„l,i c^^nA .i,t 1 p • u i a „ . ^.tu oiana and iiourioh, f. 1 - forth its \ RHETOEICAL. TB SJCfCff; ' river -waA "ds paesincT J of ih« old '18 eaily in ed outlines, ng" towards Jich, if not have been >nrnfulness. g'uish, and «. subsiding ipanies the ned and lit 16 hope of on in the le through which, far It was a 'oportions, hes, strik- es of joy 8C ng from vj.i.^de the t\ isand forth its /\4Mk^v^ beanty, and rojoice ra the fragrant breath „f .1, "ippVr ettrhaAiritrr ■• f --'- -- f-Nrte-ed like bones, whitened iTth ^ "■'■"' ""'' *'«'y which tumbled through them and 1 ''Jr "''" ""= ^'"«' One hold a,„„e it seeLd t hC B^ t e'^"!' *",' °'" "'>^"'- was busy upon that : even a, ull- aL ""P'""^ *''"«'"' «a w™. the »out;r;'i;i'S .^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "> !<« feet. The next flood ^de.riL' ''*°™ °''°''"' »' And down „,„st come hat lord of hi r '""'" ^"' '"^^ honor,, ..ith all his strenffTh wfa. !,l h' '"'l "'"' "" "" morsclesB river shall tTss hi .t i' ""'^'' ' ""«' "■« ™- «"S bim up again, te^-'al'^^*'* »"- -d then ^^ and breaking his proud limbs u,t I two 1 "'•/"l' """'''"S on some stagnant swamp, tired of the hT "°"'' "'"'"'• ^4:t::no:iirwi:htr ^r^'^^-pe^" . ''""■OS of their palaces ■ the WT \ '""'*'""'' S"'^ *« '»"•" along tbose^whrCs „i Wnwh^h . "™'"' "■""' '"-^"^ » that of Xer«s, are encamped" ''«'"'"'' ''°"°*" oA'r oiZtf IX: """rr '-^ '-''■ " ■•» ««» Ponnons of silk and flolr/f t f '''''''=• '^''"^ ^ Boauty is clustered the 7 : i::"! "" '""'°°« Wrance. T^ ..^ •nd warriors of the cities are ^7^ 7"""'- ^"^ *« f""'^' m. ^ "° P'""'=d »nd harnessed for the ^-ttt:: rdrtr:? t^"°^' °' »""^' "^ ->- .»mblcd likewise b h, wl / ,"' ""' °">" '"-""onario,, and the „„i,|ie „.,„:' ""'f ■'J^ <=<'«''"ne- The markeCnl.~.. -"t wi.h flo,:,"';::.!,:"!:" ""/'f "^ "«'--^- '^-^^^ ^ 74 THE HIXTH BEADER. flags. And there are gay procoesions through the streeta, and market-choruses, and barges with carved and gilded l^rows and silken awnings fringed and tasselled richly, all laden with revelry, gliding up and down the river. ^U.vi 10. The sun goes down, yet the sky is bright— brighter than at noon. There is a broad avenue walled on either side, and arched with fire. There are fountains of fire, pillars of fire, temples of fire ("temples of immortality," they call them)* arches of fire, pyramids of fire. The fable of the phoenix is more than realized. Above that mass and maze of flames, an^'' eagle, feathered with flames, spreads his gigantic wings, and mounts and expands, until tower, and dome, and obelisk are spanned. 11. Visions of Arabian Nights visit the earth again. The wealth and wonders of Nineveh are disentombed. The festi- val costs one million sixteen hundred francs; all done to order. It is summer with the kings ; aye, summer with the kings. Bright leaves are upon and life and song are among them : but death is at the root. The next flood and the proud lord shall be uprooted and the waters shall beat him away- when they have stripped him of his finery they shall fling him m upon the swamp to rot. Such shall be the fate of the European kings, European aristocracies, European despotisms Who will lament it ? Who would avert it ? 12. What though it is now summer with the kings ? What though the evil ones have been exalted, and th0 perjured have been named holy, and the blood of the people is mixed with the wine of the princes, and illuminations bewilder the mem- ory of those who mourn, and the gibbet is disguised in lamps and flowers and the relics of imperial wars, and the desolate laugh hysterically in their intoxication, and the reign of the wicked IS a jubilee, and he spreadeth himself like a green bay-tree, and his power ig supreme ? What recks it? It shall pass like the dream of the drunkard. _, BHETORICAL. 76 11. EXTEMPORE OR SIGHT READING. rrO read a piece the first time with a good distinef elegance, distin ^hinV^^r ^ Z^t 'Z^Tl ^"^ natural, forcible, and varied emphasis aid thV .^ ' XL:i:::t:trt2::s::ru^ tures, the reader must be in possession If th ' ' '"^ ^''■ do it well. possession of these requisites to belul^d^'LdTf'Ihr 1 ''."""' *'"^ ^^^"-•*- -e to De louDd and if the reader has studied them carefully with elvt "^.!° "" "'^^"^^^ ^^^ "^°^"^-*-- of the Vote he may then attempt to read at sight the following secIZ' the^ selections, and progressing gradually to the most diffi. 3. To read well at sight is a difficult performance • bnf if n. fine ic.;pH,h™ „ , xrs ti'imZrr''^- ■""" » perhaps the i'^s>^UteizzvT:i'':xrr' and,ah„r bestowed io ita acquirement :ffl"4h;tep:;r: m the pleasure he wil, afford those who u,a, hear UZli 4. To render s.ght-reading perfectly easy, if the readrwill ^t h.s eye a little beyond the point at wh ch he ifread-^f h« exero.se will enable him to anticipate the sen f wS fo lows and .n time he will be able to take into his miL . whole clause or sentence at a glance of tie eye 76 THE SIXTH READER. 13. THr JAMPAC^TA OF ROME. PERHAPS tir e if < 2. A dull, poisonous haze stretches level along the decc- c, r'ailing its spectral wrecks of mossy ruins, on whose rents the /sJ light rests like dying fire on defiled altars. The blue ridge »'f the Alban Mount lifts itself against a solemn space of green, dear, quiet sky. Watch-towers of dark clouds stand stead- fastly along the promontories of the Apennines. From the plain to the mountains, the shattered aqueducts, pier beyond pier,r melt into the darl - sss like shado y and countless troops of funeral mourners p. ;.;iing irom a uuiion's grave. RUSKIH. 13. MONK FELIX. [In this poem, Lon«;fellow has given in iweet i lythm on* of the toucliliig cM blends of the Middle Ages.] ONE. morning all ne, Out of his conv< it of gray stone, Into me lOrest oider, darker, griiycr, His lips moving as if in prayer, BHETOBIOAL. His head sunken upon his breast As in a dioarn of rest, Walked the Monk Felix. All about The broad, sweet sunshine lay without, Filling- the summer air ; And within the woodlands as he trod The twilight was like the truce of God With .worldly woe and care. 77 a. Under him lay the golden moss ; And above him th. boughs of the hemlock trees Waved, and made the sign of ^'^e cross, And whispered their Benedicites ; A;id from the ground Rose an odor, sweet and fragrant, Of the wild-flowers^and the vagrant o.w.L Vines that wandered, Seeking the sunshine' round and round • Th ^se he heeded not,, but pondered sW Oii the volume in his hand, A voh, ne of St. Augustine,' Wh. .ein he read of the unseen Splendors . lod's great town In the unknu..n Ifind, And, with his eyes cast do^n, In humility he said : " I believe,«0 God, What herein I have read, But, alas I I do not understand \» 8. And lo I he heard The sudden singing of a bird, A snow-white bird, that from 'a cloud Dropped down, And among the branobea brown Sat singing Cvftv 78 THE SIXfH READER. ^ .'JfL i^-n So sweet, and clear, and loud, It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing. And the Monk Felix closed his book, And long, long, With rnptur us look, Ho listened to the song, And hardly breathed or stirred, /*H4t Until he saw, as in a vision, The land of Elysian, And in the heavenly city heard Angelic feet Fall on the golden flagging of the street. l^^^^K And he would fain have caught the wondrous bird, ,But sh-ove in vain ; For it flew away, away, Far over hill and dell, C^J^>^/t- And instead of its sweet singing He heard the convent bell Suddenly in the silence ringing For the service of noonday. And he retraced His pathway homeward, sadly and in haste. 4. In the convent there was a change I He looked for each well-known face. But the faces were new and strange ; New figures sat in the oaken stalls, New voices chanted in the choir ; Yet the place was the sa»3?c j^Iace, The same dusty walls Of cold gray stone ; The same cloisters, and belfry, and 8pir& A stranger and alone Among that brotherhood The Monk Felix stood. XJ. va oas bird, (u BHETOBICAL. ^'' Forty years," aaid a friar, "Have I been prior Of this convent in the wood ; Btit for that space, Never have I behe'ld thy face I" 6. The heart of the Monk Felix fell • And he answered with submissive' tone, This morning after the hour of Prime I left my cell, And wandered forth alone, Listening all the time To the melodious singing Of a beautiful white bird, Until I heard The bells of the convent ringing Noon from their noisy towers. ' It was as if I dreamed ; For what to me had seemed Moments only, had been hours I" 7. "Years I" said a voice close by It was an aged monk who spoke, From a bench of oak Fastened against the wall ; He was the oldest monk of all. For a whole century Had he been there, Serving God in prayer. The meekest and humblest of his creatui*, He remembered well the features Of Felix, and he said, Speaking distinct and slow : " One hundred years ago. When I was a nnvin^ ;„ xi.«_ » »_ - -« tiiis place, There was here a monk full of God^s grace, 79 fev*l ®^ THE SIXTH READEB. Who bore the name Of Felix, and this man must be the same.» I.I 8 And straightway . They brought forth to the light of day A volume old and brown, A huge tome, bound In brass and wild boar's hide, ^v^l. Lt^ Wherein was written down » The names of all who had died In the convent since it was edified. And there they found, Just as the old monk said, That on a certain day and date. One hundred years before, Had gone forth from the convent gate The Monk Felix, and never more Had entered that sacred door. He had been counted among the dead I And they knew, at last, That such had been the power Of that celestial and immortal song,' A hundred years had passed, And had not seemed so long as a single hour f LONQFBLLOW. 14. DESCRIPTION OF THE RUINS AT BALBEC. VyE rose wi^h the sun, whose first rays struck on the ^ temn les of Balbec, and gave to those mysterious ruins ...at ec/a^ which his brilliant light ever throws over scenes; which It Illuminates. Soon we arrived, on the northern side,' at tue foot of the gigantic walls which surround those beauti- ful remams. A clear stream, flowing over a bed of granite, murmured around the enormous blocks of stone, fallen from --- top of the wall, which obstructed its course. Beautiful RHETORICAL. 81 sculptures were half concealed in +1, i- -^ passed the H™,et by a„ arltl' ^ b^ t eT" fanlr" ""^ and mounti„g a narrow breach were soon L Z''."""/'""'""'. of the scene which surrounded „s °" '" '"^'°™''"° ocnpose,, was /„re%t. ^n'S .-f r^:!; fX'" "'' in breadth, and as much in heiriit Th. f ^ °' *"= one npon the other, and ^^^X^ZV^^XTl 7'""'' Egyptian sculpture At a «,-. i , *^^ ^"'^'^'^ ^^ enor™o„ssto„L;enot;a::t.t::;;::,:- ttt- cian and Eomau citizens ' "'" "™ "°'°"^ "^ «* S. When we readied the summi* nf th u knew not to what object first toZ a,l sid ' °" '"^ of marble, of nrodirrio,,, b„,- i . . *'"'''' weregal^s niches, fri'n JwX, ric !»; r """""''""'^ ' "■"^»™ - i nices, of enlb,a,„res or aoTal "th- V ""? ^'^^^ "^ "^ ^^^^ -r feet ; rn.,nm<.n; ZZTof'^T o^\'r '""'°''' '^ where a chaos pf confused beautv tb. "'"' ' "'""7- scattcred about, or piled ™ ryj^^,::::™ "/a^ef '7 HeriiiXrrr^r"-^^^^^^^^^^^^^ i. . ., ,. '''^'"P'-s dt cussit7cation, or coniectnrp nf fv,^ i • i of .nj^ ,„gs to which the greater par't of tSZt^^" 4. After passing through this scene of ruined m» , B we reached an ,„„er wall, which we al o Z^uZ'IT'- Its summit the view of the i„t„,-,v,. ■^^""ea , and from .cc o ;ti;r:rf:eT„::irb= em-; ::■; tl'Ht platform were a .erics of lesser ^Inl . ^''"""'^ orated with nJ.h ^ • , temples, or chapels, dpn. 4* S2 THE SIXTH BEADER. who had seen the severe siraplicity of the Parthenon or the Coliseum. 5. But how prodigious the accumulation of architectural riches in the middle of an Eastern desert I Combine in imag- ination the temple of Jupiter Stator, and the Coliseum at Rome, of Jupiter Olympius, and the Acropolis at Athens, and yoa will yet fall short of that marvellous assemblage of admirable edifices and sculptures. Many of the temples rest on columns seventy feet in height, and seven feet in diameter, yet com- posed only of two or three blocks of stone, so perfectly joined together that to this day you can barely discern the lines of their junction. Silence is the only language which befits man when words are inadequate to convey his impressions. We remained mute with admiration, gazing on the eternal ruins. 6. The shades of night overtook us while we yet rested in amazement at the scene by which we were surrounded. One by one they enveloped the columns in their obscurity, and added a mystery the more to that magical and mysterious work of time and man. We appeared, as compared with tlie gigantic mass and long duration of these monuments, as the swallows which nestle a season in the crevices of the capitals, without knowing by whom, or for whom, they have been con- structed. 7. The thoughts, the wishes, which moved these masses, are to us unknown. The dust of marble which we tread beneath our feet knows more of it than we ; but it cannot tell U3 what it has seen ; and in a few ages the generations which shall come, in their turn to visit our monuments, will ask, in like manner, wherefore we have built and engraved, Tho works of man survive his thought* Movement is the law of the human mind ; the definite is the dream of his pride and bia ignorance. Lamabtiot. EHETORICAL. 15. THE CONTICT SHIP. M' TORN on the waters I and purple and bright, Bursts on the billows the flushing of light ; t/l^ O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun, See ! the tall vessel goes gallantly on ; Pull to the breeze she unbosoms her slil, ^*^ And her pennon streams onward, like hope, in the gale; ^f^^ The winds come around her, in murmur and song. And the surges rejoice ^they bear her along ; ' Seel she looks up to the golden-edged clouds, And the sailor sings gayly aloft in the shrouds. ^I.a^ U^'^ a. Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray, ' .^ ) J^ O'er the rough waters,— away, and away ! Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part. Passing away like a dream of the heart 1 Who,— as the beautiful pageant sweeps by, *fvicMA- , Music around her, and sunshine on high,— Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow, ' Oh ! there are hearts that are breaking' below I 8. Night on the waves I— and the moon is on high. Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky, Treading its depths in the power of her might, And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light I Look to the waters I— asleep on their breast, i*^ Seems not the ship like an island of rest ? Bright aiid alone on the shadowy main, W.>r woa- Like a heavtK3heri:.'ied home on seme desolate plain t 4. Who,— as she smiles in the silvery light. Spreading her wings on the bosom of niUt, Aitmv on the deep, as the moon in the »ky, A phaiitom of beauty -could deem with a sigh, Aw- HJjLujf" 84 THE SIXTH READER. That 80 lovely a thing is the maiidion of sin, And that souls that are smitten, lie burstinff within? 5. Who, — as he watches her silently gliding, Remembers that wave after wave is dividing Bosoms that sorrow and guilt conld not sever,— A^J.-^ Hearts w iich are parted and broken for ever? Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave. The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave ? 6. 'TIS thus with our life, while it passes along, Like a vessel at sea, amidst sunshine and song I Gayly we glide, in the gaze of the world. With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurled ; W^ All gladness and glory, to wandering eyes. Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs • Fading and false is the aspect it wears, As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears ; And the withepng thoughts which the world cannot know Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below ; While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore, Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er. T. K. Hbbvbt. I^XJA^ 16. MOUNTAINS. rpHANKS be to God for mountains ! The variety which J- they impart to the glorious bosom of our planet were no fcraall advantage ; the beauty which they spread out to our vision in their woods and waters ; their crags and slopes, their clouds and atmospheric hues, were a splendid gift ; the sub-' limity which they pour into our deepest souls from their Dia- jestic aspects ; the poetry which breathes froin their streams, and dolls, and airy heights, from the sweet abodes, the garbs' and manners of tlf-Ar inhabitants, the songs and lee-ends wbieji iiave awofce jm them, were a. proud heritage to imagin- RHETORICAL. 85 ative minds ; but what are all these when the thought comes that without mountains the spirit of man m.ist have bowed to the brutal and the base, and probably have sunk to the mo- Botonous level of the unvaried plain ? 2 When I turn my eyes upon the map of the world, and behold how wonderfully the countries where our faith was nurtured, where our liberties were generated, where our phi. Josophy and literature, the fountains of our intellectual erace and beauty, sprang up, were as distinctly walled out by God's hand with mountain ramparts, from the eruptions and inter ruptions of barbarism, as if at the especial prayer of the early fathers of man's destinies, I am lost in an exalting admiration 3. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine I see how the infant liberties of Greece were sheltered from the vast trib.js of the uncivilized north by the heights of HEemus and Rhodope 1 be- hold how the Alps describe their magnificent crescent, in- cming their opposite extremities to the Adriatic and Tyr- h / ^;.^f' ;°«k^"^ "P Italy from the Gallic and Teutonian hordes till the power and spirit of Rome had reached their jnatur.ty, and she had opened the wide forest of Europe to the 1 ght, spread far her laws and language, and planted the seeds ot many mighty nations 1 4. Thanks to God for mountains ! Their colossal .mnes* ' seems almost to break the current of time itself; the geologist in them,searche8 for traces of the earlier world ; and it is thL ' too, that man, resisting the revolutions of lower regions, re-' tos through innumerable years his habits and his rights While a multitude of changes have remoulded the people of Europe ; while languages, and laws, and dynasties, and creeds have passed over it like shadows over the la^Kiscape, the chil^ ren of the Celt and the Goth, who fled t. .he m' ^ilintl housand years ago, are found iLe.. o w. and nhow us in fa.u and figure, in language and .a,rb ...at their fathers were" «how us a fii.e coniraet with th. n,od.m tribes dwelling, below and around ^-Jw^rn . ...,a ~j =' "^'"" mivhni'fh. " ' /"" r^ ""' "'"'^•^'^*^''' »ow adverse is the p.ru of the mountain to .cuUbility, *nd that there the %r. iioart of fre..d«m is fouud tor «Tflr ,^ ^ 86 THE SIXTH READBB. ftUM»^i*- dk4A< .tlwJij*V 17. lEELAND AND THE IRISH [C. E. Lester \b wide and expansive in his writings, generous in his fee Jngs, and truly American in his mind and heart. His view of "Ireland unde* English Oppression," In his admirable work entitled "Condition and Fata of England," ia one of the most eloquent essays in the English language.] TRELAND still has an existence as a nation. She has hor ■■- universities and her literature. She is still the "Emerald Isle of the Ocean." An air of romance and chivalry is around her. The traditionary tales that live in her literature invest her history with heroic beauty. But she has no Meed of thesa Real heroes, the O'Neils, the O'Briens, and the Emmets, will be remembered as long as self-denying patriotism and uncon- querable valor are honored among men. 2. In every department of literature she will take her place. Where is the wreath her shamrock does not adorn? Where the muse that has not visited her hills ? Her harp has ever kindled the soul of the warrior and soothed the sdrrows of the broken-hearted. It has sounded every stvain that can move the human heart to greatness or to love. Whatever vices may stain her people, they are free from the crime of voluntary servitude. Tht ' ;.^hmau is the man last to be subdued. Possessing an elasticity of character that will rise under the heaviest oppression, he wants only a favorable op- portunity and a single spark to set him in a blaze. '^'*ji\:- 3. The records of religious persecutions in all countries have nothing more hideous to oft'er to our notice than the Protestant persecutions of the Irish Catholics. On them, all the devices of cruelty were exhausted. Ingenuity was taxed to devise new plans of persecution, till the machinery of penal iniquity might almost be pronounced perfect. The great Irish chieftains and landlords were purposely_goaded into rebellion, that they might be branded as traitors, and their lauds confis. catcd for the benefit of English adventurers. Such was the course adopted towards Earl Desmond, a powerful chief of was the treaiiueut of O'Neii. Wfaeu 1. aisO iiffinn • tKaf i BHETORICAL. 87 Queen Elizabeth heard of the revolt of the latter, she re- marked to her courtiers: "It would be better for her ser- vants, as there would be estates enough for them all » 4. This single expression of Elizabeth reveals the entire policy of the Euglish Government towards Ireland. That in- pred cointry was the great repast at which every monarch - bade h.s lords sit down and eat. After they had gorged their ^' fill, the remains were left for those who came after. Tran- qui hty succeeded these massacres, but it was the tranquillity of the grave-yard. The proud and patriotic Irishmen were olded in the .leep of death, and the silence and repose around -^ fcbeir liteless corpses were called peace. " They made a solitude. And called it peace." 5. Often a great chief, possessed of large estates, was pur- posely driven by the most flagrant injustice and insults into open rebellion, that he might be branded as a traitor, and his rich possessions, by confiscation, revert to the English vam- pyres that so infested the land. Every cruelty and outrage that can dishonor our nature was perpetrated in these unjust wars by English leaders and English soldiers. Cities were -acked, villages burned, and the helpless and the youn^ Hlaughtered by thousands. A record of these scenes of crime and blood we cannot furnish. It is written, however, on every oot of Irish soil, and in the still living memories of many aa Irish heart. "^ C. £DWii»D8 LEarm. 18. THE DUELLIST'S HONOR. /TONOR is the acquisition and preservation of the dignity ^ of our nature: that dignity consists in its perfection; aiat perfection is found in observing the laws of our Creator • he laws of the Creator are the dictates of reason and of re lljrion • fJiQf id +K« „i /. . . '' '-"^^ -"BUI va,;ice or wnai He teaches us by the natural light of our own minds, and by the special reve- 88 THE SIXTH READER. cAjO-^w^ iations of His will manifestly given. They both concut in teaching us that individuals have not the dominion of their own lives; otherwise, no suicide would be a criminal. They concur in teaching us that we ought to be amenable to the laws of the society of which we are members ; otherwise, morality and honor would be consistent with tho violation of law and the disturbance of the social system. 2. They teach us that society cannot continue to exist where the public tribunals are despised or undervalued, and the re- dress of injuries withdrawn from the calm regulation of public justice, for the purpose of being committed to the caprice of private passion, and the execution of individual ill-will ; there- fore, the man of honor abides by the law of God, reveres the statutes of his country, and is respectful and amenable to its authorities. Such, my friends, is what the reflecting portion of mankind has always thought upon the subject of honor. This was the honor of the Greek ; this was t'e honor of the Roman ; this the honor of the Jew ; this the honor of the Gen- tile ; this, too, was the honor of the Christian, until the super- stition and barbarity of Northern devastators darkened his glory and degraded his character. 3. Man, then, has not power over his own life; much less is he justified in depriving another human being of life. . Upon what ground can he who engages in a duel through the fear of ignominy, lay claim to courage ? Unfortunate delin- quent ! Do you not see by how many links your victim was bound to a multitude of others ? Does his vain and idle resig- nation of his title to life.absolve yon frou-) the enormous claims which society has upon you for his services— his family for Ihat support, of which you have robbed them without yom own enrichment ? 4. Go, stand over that body ; call back that soul which yon bave driven from its tenement ; take up that hand which your pride refused to touch, not one hour ago. You have, in your pride and wrath, usurped one prerogative of God. You have iuflickjU u«aiii. At least, iu mercy, attempt the exorcise of 19. EMOTIONJ majesty in this RHETOEICAL. 89 another ; breathe iuto those distended nostrils-let your brother be once more a living soul! Me. .m1 Father I Low power less are we for good, but how rnignty for evil I Wretched man I he does not answer-he cannot rise. All your efforts to make him breathe are vain. His soul is already in the presence of your common Creator 1 Like the wretched Cain will you answer, "Am I my brother's keeper ?» 6. Why do you turn away from the contemplation of your own honorable work ? Yes. go as far as you will, still the ad. monition will ring in your ears : II rvas by your hand he fell/ The horrid instrument of death is still in that hand, and the 8tain of blood upon your soul. Fly, if you will-go to that house which you have filled with desolation. It is the shriek of his widow-they are the cries of his children-the broke,* sobs of his parent; and. amidst the wailings, you distinctly hear the voice of imprecation on your own guilty head I Will jonr honorable feelings be content with this? Have vou rww had abundant and gentlemanly satisfaction ? Bishop Enoiakd. 19. EMOTIONS ON RETURNING TO THE UNITED STATES, 1837. giR, I dare not trust myself to speak of my country with th«, ^ rapture which I habitually feel when I contemplate her marvellous history. But this I will say-that on my return to It after an absence of only four years, I was filled with wonder at all I saw and all I heard. 2. What is to be compared with it? I found New York grown up to almost double its former size, with the air of * great capital, instead of a mere flourishing commercial town as I had known it. I listened to accounts of voyao^es a thousand miles in magnificent steamboats on the waters of those great lakes, whicli. but the other day, I left sloep- >"g m the primeval silence of nature, in the recesses of a vast WlldfirnPfaia • anA T PoU U...J. j.v - „. „n.. . ,eit Liiui ujure is a grandeur and a "i^ajesty m this irresistible onward march of a race, created, as 90 THE SrXTH RBAPRR. *hf; ^r^ Ti ^'T' '^ """"^ accustomed to such thing. that hey shall make as little impression upon our minds as heglones of the heavens above us; but, looking on them Enghsh traveller ,8 said to have remarked, that, far from being Without poetry, as some have vainly alleged, our whole country IS one great poem. 4. Sir, it is so ; and if there be a man that can think of what hpll-T' T f P"'*' '' '^'' '^''' ^^''''^ °^ ^» lands, to em- bellish and advance it-who can contemplate that living mass of mtelhgence, activity and improvement, as it rolls on in . rts sure and steady progress, to the uttermost extremities of •.the West-who can see scenes of savag-e desolation trans- formed almost with the suddenness of enchantment, into those of frmtfulness and beauty, crowned with flourishing cities filled With the noblest of all populations-.if there be a man I say, that can witness all this, passing under his very eyes' wrthou^ feel. .. ..a heart beat high, and his imajnaLu warmed and tn.H.ported by it, be sure, sir, that the raptures of song e^^tnot for him ; he would listen in vain to Tasso or Camoens telhng a tale of the wars of knights ,nd crusaders, or of the discovery and conquest of another hemisphere. LEGASfi. 20. AFAR IN THE DESERT. CThlB piece h characterized by great feeUng and high descriptive poweni A PAR in the desert I love to ride, ■^ With the silent Bush boy, alone 'by my side. When the sorrows of life the soul o'ercast And sick of the present I cling to the past, ,'^,,u When the eye is suffused with regretful tears. From the fond recollections of former years, RHETORICAL. Continent, ior il or ma« uch thing? r minds aa J on them, at a recent from being our whole nk of what ids, to em- ving mass >lls on, in empties 0/ ion trans- into those ng cities, >e a man, i'ery eyes, agination raptures Tasso or srusaders, re. n And shadows of things ti)at have lor.g since fled Iht over the brain like the ghosts of the dead ; Bright visions of gh.ry that vanished too sc.m ; Day-dream, that departed ere manhood's noon • Attachments by fate or by falsehood reft Companions of early days, lost or left ' And my native land-whose magical name Ihrlli to the heart like electric flame- The home of my childhood, "the haunt's of my primo'' .^-te^ A^ the passions and scenes of that rapturous'tim- ' ^ ^k«V f I T ""''" y""°^ ^°^ '^'^ ^"^-'d was uow All .n' '. 'T" °' ^'^" ""^-^^^-^ to view ; ' -' All-all ,.w iorsaken-forgotten-foregone- And 1-a poor exil •, remembered of none. My high aims aba,, '.ned-my good acts undone - Aweary of all that is under the sun i ay ) the deserl^afar from man. - ^ 8. Afar in the desert I love to ride With the silont Bush boy aluae by my side. When the Hd turmoil of this wearis««om is full, and my thoughts are high An my soul is sick with the bondsmLs sigh, ^ ' aI n'th r " 'r'"'" ^"' j'^^' -^ P-dV Atar m the desert alone to ride 1 , Aiid to bound away with the eagle's soeed \~J k^ With the death^franght firelock- in my hlld- Ihe only law of the desrrt land I :i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // 1.0 I.I IL25 III 1.4 2.0 1.6 ^ V ruulC^rapnnj Sciences Coiporaticn 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ;^\ r<\^ <^ '4'^'". ^\ W^\ 5V > ^C\ o % 93 THE SIXTH BEADEB. ..-^ "UKj-uXr 8. Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush boy alone by my side.* Away— away from the dwellings of men, By the wild deer's haunt, by the buffalo*s glen ; !fr>lLvi By valleys remote, where the oribi plays^ Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hifrtdbeest graze Where the kuder and eland unhunted recline, By the skii-ts of gray forest overhung with wild vine j Where the elephant ^)rowse8 at peace in his wood. And the river-horse gambols, unscared in the flood;fc^«A.i- Where the fleet-footed ostrich, over the waste, Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste, Hieliig away to the home of her rest. Where she and her mate have scooped their nest, Far hid from the pitiless plunderer's view, In the pathless depths of the parched karroo. -Vtiv^ 4. And here while the night winds round me sigh, ^u)i-^t".' And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky, As I sit apart by the desert stone, Like Elijah at Horeb's cave alone, A still, small voice comes through the wild (Like a father consoling his fretful child), Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear ; Saying: "Man is distant, but God is near." Panreu. ei,^"^M. 21. POST NUMMOS VIRTUS. A VARICE is the besetting sin of the age. Ours is, em- -^ phatically, the enlightened age of dollars and cents! Ita motto is . Post ncmmos virtus ;— money first, virtue afteb- RTARDS I Utilitarianism is the order of the day. Every thing is estimated in dollars and cents. Almost every order and profession— our literature, our arts, and our sciences-all worship in the temple of Mammon. BHETOEICAL. 93 week ; that of „a„,n,o„fs olZlt' °."'^ °^ ""^ '" *= of gold. Tl,e fever of avaZ ' ""■ .^""^ """S ^-""oks ..U. Mood of ,„ people. Hance hat ^T""?*' ""= ""^ '"'«''» ^ ■i^lyrioh; he„ce that everL; /I*" ':"'" ^° 'f™'""«»- benoe broken con«tituti„„rZi f f *'? "^ "^ PoP-l^'on ; bave not discovored the nUir„l'^?"""°''= "" »?«• « we been f,r want of the .eek 1 ?? ^ "°"°' " '""' «"«-y not '--^ .-"to «o,d, it is rTaini' :oTr ■"^°7°' "°' ^« CKrtions for this purpose "'" "'^ "°--»asing ^, «oSr;:dVr ti:,,"r -^"•-■^ ^-» ""■•■' »- «l.onld chance suddenly „ entlr 1 7 '"? '''^"'°' '"'■"'^ » i»«-l.onse8; if he ehonldlookaMt .."""■ •^''*°'^^* "'">' on which people are seen c„ J, r Xtr '''^•™:'™-^ -ts, at the naked walls, and the „ er^ ^°^' ""'' *''™ S^'"""" S--^' Mblems and associations In tt ."!'™""'™' "'' "" '•'='«'»°» »ouM almost conclude irhf ad ::r "/ '"^ """'"•"*- "o B0...e fi„oly.fu™ished lectn J^n^ 1;^: ^'"■"*""-'- '""^ of the day were to be discussed '"''''"'"7 '"P'" a..d- i^r^J J^ :;: ■ t~:' ""^ -'''- -'" "- --ted . these shrewd speculators „t ^ "T "" *"'■'=«• ""d *«' ^'■'='« f- the rent ofLtlra:':^^::",!^-" ''^ -°- f- original impression would certati " Z T" '"'"'«'"'=■". bi» ^ 'be conelnsion would be irreS, n '. \^ ^'='''=™od. But farther, that, in „rder to sec re Tti'd '!. '!, "'" '"" «'"' and fashionable, the owne sTf L f I r""""" "^ «"' "oh fentprecaution to enffZ at », ►","'' '""' """=" ""= Pr»- eminent preacher I Those wl„\„ 7' '™'' P^P'-'^r an »f 'be times, will admt LT t i t :T''' *T'^ "■" ^'s- •nd that it is not even exaggerated "■' '"""^ ^'•''"''' -;r teXtf ts::r:r ■ x,: :r — - th-ngs, can we woudor .. thl '^' ^ condition of *™oo, and Of unb,ii„:Styrrr tletr; 04 ill 1^ l'»v>'^A.l. THE SIXTH READER. Horace, our children are taught to calculate, but not to pray They learn arithmetic, but not religion. 6. The mischievoua maxim, that children must gro^^ up rt'ithout any distinctive religious impressions, and then, when (iiey have attained the age of discretion, must choose a re- ligion for themselves, is frightfully prevalent amongst us. This maxim is about as wise as would be that of the agri- culturist who should resolve to permit his fields to lie neg- lected in the spring season, and to become overgrown with weeds and briers, under the pretext that, when summer would come, it would be time enougn to scatter over them the good seed ! It amounts to this : human nature is corrupt and downward in its tendency ; let it fester in its corruption, and become confirmed in its rottenness ; and then it will be time enough to apply the remedy, or, rather, human nature will then react and heal itself. mt. Rav. abp. Spaidwo. 23. GRACE DARLING. TT was in the Fall of 1838, during a terrific storm. a A noble British stciimer was wrecked upon the dangerous reefs of Longstone Island, and all night long a portion of the crew clung to the shattered vessel, with fearful waves dashing over them. Rocks and dangerous islets lay between them and the nearest shore, and around these a sea was raging, through which it did not seem possible any boat could pass. Tha liongstone lighthouse was a mile distant. At daybreak the keeper saw the terrible state of the shipwrecked, but feared to expose himself to certain destruction by going to their aid, until the earnest entreaties of his young daughter, Grace, determined him to make the attempt, and nine persons were rescued by the aid of an old man and a young woman. 2. This h(;rnic deed shot a thrill of sym^^athy and admira- tion throughout all Europe. The lonely lighthouse became «H'iiTORICAL. 95 ut not to pray •kiM**^ the centre of attraction to thousands of travellers • b„f r preserving her natural n^odesty and ZT'T-' '^"^' rormer quiet domestic dut^e i Ijoir 1^' 'T""' H^' happened. She had m-nv .A ,^""^"^ ^" '^ "othing had but declined them aH elvi.' Jh" ^^T' '^"^ ^' "^^'■"^^«' Beatmg „o one of th<«e disastrous isl'es- Mo, a wreck, half-„„ „„,.,. th„^^j Dao^hter a„d sife throX^pL ,^ rl^"""^ Cl.Bgmg about the remnant Tf thfs shi , Creatures, how precious in the .naiden'^ sight For when, belike, the old man grieves stm L„ ^ > Thau for their fellowsufferers, engulfed ^"^ ~- Where every parting agony is hushed, .uM And hope and fear mix not in open strife. ^ 3 "But courage, father I let as out to sea- A few may yet be saved." The dano-w^, . Her earnest tone and l„„t . "'.''""S'"^'-'' wrde, coi- wne ana look beaming with faith Dispels the father's doubts • ' • • . Together they put forth, father and child I Kivals m effort , and a like intent * Td .h .7 'f •«"«=■■'"«. "»""»lly crossed And shattered, and regatberiug their might M THE SIXTH READER. Am if tho ttimtilt, by the Almighiy's will, Wero In tflo cormcious sea roused and prolonged, That womttfi'a fortitude — so tried, so proved — May brighton more and more 1 8. t wl+vi^A ''. True to the mark, M* They stem th« current of that perilous gorge. Their artm «till strengthening with the strengthening hearf. Though dtuigcr, as the wreck is neared; becomes More IminJnont, Not unseen do they approach ; And raptoro with varieties of fear Xnctimmitly conflicting, thrills the frames Of tho«0 who, in that dauntless energy. Foretaste ddiverance ; but the least perturbed Can sca/ctily trust his eyes, when he perceives That of the pair — tossed on the waves to bring Hope ta thy hopeless, to the dying life — One I» a woman, a poor earthly sister ; Or, bo the viwitant other than she seems, A guardian iipirit, sent from pitying Heaven, In woman'i Bhapo. 4, ),,^^ But why prolong the tale, Casting meek words amid a host of thoughts Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced, ^w»*k«- And difflctilty mastered, with resolve That no one breathing should be left to perish. Tins last remainder of the crew are all Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep Are safely borne, landed upon the beach. And in folfllmcnt of God's mercy, lodged Within the sheltering lighthouse. 5, Shout, ye waves. Send forth h K(mg of triumph. Waves and winds Exult in thw deliverance wrought through faith i\A/''^l ^••A^ KHETOBIOAL. In mm whose providence your rage hath served I Ye screarnmg sea-mews, in the concert join I An would that some i.^ortal voice!' voice Fully attuned to all that gratitude ~ Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips Blended with praise of that parental love, Beneath whose watchful- eye the maiden grew Pious and pure ; modest, and yet so brave ; Though young, so wise ; though weak, so resolute-- Might carry to the clouds and to the stars Yea, to celestial choirs, Grace Darling's name I WOBDSWOBTH. 97 23. THE CHUECH. 2. The proudest royal houses are but of yesterdav whpn theropubferf Ven ,.f ^'"'"V™" ■>«' - antiquity. Bat C but mJtr' r""™ °"' '■" ""^^'y' "»' - "-e *a^ -«]m but full of Irfe aud youtlifu] vig-or 3. Ti,, Catholic Church is still ««,di„g forth to the farther «8 THE SIXTH READER. ends of the world missionaries as zealous as those who landed in Kent with Augustin ; and still confronting hostile kings with the same spirit with which she confronted Attilar. The number of her children ts greater than in any former age. Her acquisitions in the New World have more than com- pensated her for what she has lost in the Old. Her spiritual ascendency extends over the vast countries which lie between he plains of Missouri and Cape Horn ; countries which, a con- tury hence, may not improbably contain a population as large as that which now inhabits Unrope. 4. The members of her community are certainly not fewer than one hundred and fifty millions ; and it will be difficult to show that all the other Christian sects united amount to a hundred and twenty millions. Nor do we see any sign which indicates that the term of her long dominion is approaching. 5. She saw the commencement of all the governments and of all the ecclesiastical establishments that now exist in the world ; and we feel no assurance that she is not destined to see the end of them all. She was great and respected before the Saxon had set foot on Britain — before the Frank had passed the Rhine— when Grecian eloquence still flourished at Antioch— when idols were still worshipped in the temple of Mecca. And she may still exist in undiminished vigor when some trav- eller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's. Macaulxt. 24. THE CHURCH— (Continued.) « IS it not strange that in the year 1799 even sagacious oh servers should have thought that at lengthy the hour of the Church of Rome had come ? An infidel power ascendant— the Pope dying in captivity — the most illustrious prelates of Franf'o livino- in a foreio-n rountrv on Protestant alms — the coblest edifices which the munificence of former ages had con- RHETORICAL. 99 2. But the o„d was «t y ' t,7d "'!:''°"- milk-white hind was fated S,' y I """^ '° <'«''«''. ">e ..-.OS had been perfo™ ^'r/;,, 'l, ^;''" «"« "'O ftnera, p-cat reaction had oom„encod, tiefrf "' f '"f ""^ ^ixth, . -. forty years, appears to be'sti a'pr^ „»: IT °[ T™ ts day. A new o, ler of things rose on! ^f I f *^ '""' dynasties, new laws, new titlesf a ,dLid,tl """""'' ancient religion. The Am,, v j I ™ emerged the pyramid was built by the a,tdih \ " "'" ''' «-"' .^; works of „,e„,brtLt:e,r;;tz^^^^^ mined unshaken; and wh;n t 'waZ Zed t" '"' "" •lone amidst the ruins of a wnrU i-l\ ' ' "mwed Tke republic of Holland ^as^ tf thf """" '"''^• may, and the Great Council of Venice 'ndL, 7^ f ""^ late events affected only the t^-rt. , "'^ ^"^" ^^^ ^^^ «nd spirit of society, had, through grea !art !f ^TT'"'''' rope, undergone a con,plete change BuT,/' ^f '^^^'^ ^"• Cliurch was still there. ^ ""changeable Maoaulat. 25. THE CRUSADERS APPROACH JERUSALEM i JIHE purple morning left her crimson bed, ^.o. ^ And donned her robeq nf t-,,,^-, ■,• Heramberlock. shecolV- °"^"'' ' JK.&H Hfit crowned with roses rpri ' ■ ' In Edeu-s fl„wery_ gardens gather,^ „:;f' '"""^ 100 THE SIXTH READER. When through the camp a murmur shrill was spread, "Arm ! arral" they cried : "Arml arm !" the trumpets blew; Their merry noise prevents the joyful blast. ^^''-^ So hum small bees before their swarms they caat. «^-« 1 Their Captain rules their courage, guides their heat ; Their forwardness he stays with gentle rein; '^ And yet more easy, haply, were the feat, »^^'** To stop the current near Oharybdis' main, Or calm the blustering winds on mountains great, Than fierce desires of warlike hearts restrain: He rules them yet, and ranks them in their haste, For well he knows disordered speed makes waste. «. Feathered their thoughts, their feet in wings weredightj Swiftly they marched, yet were not tired thereby, For willing minds make heaviest burdens light: But when the gliding sun was mounted high, ^ Jerusalem, behold 1 appeared in sight : , Jerusalem they view, they see, they spy. 'f ^^ Jerusalem with merry noise they grefet, With joyful shouts and acclamations sweet. A»1» J*- A. As when a troop of jolly sailors row -u^.v~vu Some new-found land and country to descry ; Vv.>.m -a. Through dangerous seas, and under stars unknown. Thrall to the faithless waves and trothless sky } ^y^ If once the wished shore begin to show, They all salute it with a joyful cry. And each to other show the laud in haste, Forgetting quite their pains and perils past. B. To that delight which their first sight did breed, i,v>kM That pleased so the secret of their thought, A deep repentance did forthwith succeed. That reverend t'cct and trembling with it brought, 'V^XA. RHETORICAL. 101 Scantily thoy durst their feeble eyes dispread ' . Upon that town ^>l.cre Christ was «oId and bc.g-ht, Whore i,.r our s.ns Ho, nvultles., suffered pain, Ihere where Ue died, and where He lived again. Kose from their breasts with joy and pleasure mixed For thus fears he, the Lord aright that fears- ' *ear on devotion, joy on faith is fixt: Such noise their passion makes, as when one hears Ihe hoarse sea-waves roar, hollow rocks betwixt • Or as the winds in hoults and shady greaves 1^ A murmur makes among the boughs and leaves. 7. Their naked feet trod on the dusty way They quickly deft, and willing laid aside : '^ Their molten hearts their wonted pride allay ' Along their watery cheeks warm tears down slide. Ar^ t en such secret speech as this they used While to himself each one himself accused : ' 8. "Flower of goodness, Root of lasting bliss Thou Well of life, whose streams were ^ur... blood. Tha flowed here, to cleanse the foul amiss ^ Of sinful man, behold this brinish flood /^ ^ That from my melting heart distilled is Receive in gree these tears, Lord, s'o good, For never wretch with sin so over-gone. ', 1 ■ Had fitter time, or greater cause to moan/ '■ TAflsa 109 THE SIXTH RKADEB. 26. THE SULIOTE MOTHER. SHE stood upon tlio loftiest peak, Amidst tho clear blue sky : A bitter sinilo was on her cheek, And a dark flash in her eye. ijd*w J^vV-i "Dost thou sec them, boy? — through the dusky pines, Dost thou see where the foeman's armor shines? Hast thou caught the gleam on the conqueror's crest? My babe, that I cradled on my breast t . Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy That sight hath cost thee a father, boy !" For in the rocky strait beneath Lay Suliote, sire and son ; They had heaped high the piles of death, \;'.i Before the pass was won. ff^ 4. " They have crossed the torrent, and on they come ! Woe for the mountain hearth and home 1 There, where the hunter laid by his spear, |vpMa'<''^^ There, where the lyre hath been sweet to hear. There, where I sang thee, fair babe, to sleep. Naught but the blood-stain our trace shall kcepl" 6. And now the horn's loud blast was heard, ^ _ And now the cymbal's clang. Till even the upper air was stirred, V o^^-'i As cliff and hollow rang. 6. " Hark t they bring music, my joyous child 1 , What saith the trumpet to Suit's wild? WfAb. Doth it light thine eye with so quick a fire, As if at a glace of thine armed sire? StiU 1 be thou still I there are brave men low, — Thou wouldst not smile couldst thou see him now F T. RHETORICAL. But nearer came the clash of steel, Aud louder avvellcd the horn And farther yet the tambour's peal Through the dark pass was borne. 108 «A^at 8. Hearst thou the sound of their savage mirthf. By thou wert free when I gave thee birth,^ Free and how cherished my warrior's son I He. too, hath blessed thee, as I have done I Aye, and unchain'd must his loved ones be- Freedora, young Suliote, for thee and me I" •. And from the arrowy peak she sprung, And fast the fair child bore- A vail upon the wind was flung, .,,i A cry, and all was o'er I i „ *"* • Mrs. HucAn t — '^%t 27. THE END OP THE LONQ PABLUmbnT the wckiDgs of Cr„mw!l w ^ ,. u"""'^' "'"""'=^ "o™ , the. tron. the IjeZuUe Lh^^' \'^ "" "" " "^™«»' JL ^•.•^e lobby, he e/tered tit pat^Z; n ""' ^ """^'■^ '" ^ -W himself „o „„e of .h!t e7C:r'ZV""''"°"''^ plain suit of blsok doth wi.k """^^s- His dress was a « while he seemed to ll.!™^''""'"' "°«'"'"S»- For •>"' .0 Harrison, "This is tlZeXtlZuZ''^'' ""'^'^ effhis hat to address the house ' ''■ """wned them; He had chosen more worthy instruments to perform His work. 3. Here the orator was interrupted by Sir Peter Wentworth, who declared that he had never heard language so unparlia- mentary,— language, too, the more oflfensive, because it was addressed to them by their own sei-vant, whom they had made wha,t he was. At these words, Cromwell put on bis hat, and, springing from His place, exclaimed, " Come, come, sir, I will put an end to your prating !" For a few seconds, apparently in the most violent agitation, he paced forward and back- ward, and then stamping on the floor, added, ''You are no Parliament 1 I say you are no Parliament 1 Bring them in, bring them in 1" Instantly the door opened, and Colonel Worsley entered, followed by more than twenty musketeers. 4. " This," cried Sir Henry Vane, " is not honest ; it is against morality and common honesty." — " Sir Henry Vane," replied Cromwell; "0, Sir Henry Vane! The Lord deliver me from Sir Henry Vane 1 He might have prevented this. But he is a juggler, and has not common honesty himself I" From Vane he directed his discourse to Whitelock, on whom he poured a torrent of abuse; then pointing to Chaloner, •* There," he cried, "sits a drunkard ;» and afterwards selecting liflfereut members in succession, he described them as dishonest and corrupt livers, a shame and scandal to the profession of the Gospel. Suddenly, however, checking himself, he turned to the guard, and ordered them to clear the house. At these words. Colonel Harrison took the Speaker by the hand, and led him from the chair ; Algernon Sydney was next comnellf^d to quit his seat; and the other members, eighty in number, on BHETOKIOAL. 106 Ae w..„a„h of the .nimury. rose and „„.ed towardB th, 6 Comwoll now resumed his discourse. "Itisyoo'-he Lord ':: h *;' t 't' ™ " "" *- ^ >— -^^ * Lord both day and n.ght, that Ho would rather slav m! han put me on the d„i„g „f this work." Alderman AlTtol advantage of these words to observe that it was not ™t1™ Charged h,m w,th peeulat.on, and gave him into custody Wh n al were gone, fixing his eye on the mace, " What "IS ^ ^t a»ay. Then tak.ng the act of dissolution from the clerk hn ordered the doors to be locked, and, accompanied *; tte rLi^ tary, returned to Whitehall. '^ 6 That afternoon the members of the Council assembled in t e,r usual place of meeting. Bradshaw had just taken the cha,r, when the Lord-General entered, and toW then, hat « they were there as private individuals, they were welcome but .f as tl,e Council of State, they musj know thit tre pX' ment was dissolved, and with it also the Council. " Sir •' 1 phcd Bradshaw, wiU, the spirit of an ancient Roman, "we'havt heard what you did at the House this morning, Ind befo™ n.any hours all England will know it. But, sir,",™ are m"" aken to th.nk that the Parlia,nant is dissolved. No power under heaven can dissolve them but themselves; therefZ take you notice of that." ' ""■"'">'"■ 1. After this protest they withdrew. Thus, by the nar nc, al hands of its own children, perished the Lo^,g ParZ ~«t, which, under a variety of forms, had, for mme t * we ve years defended and invaded the liberties ef the .an I. fell wnhout a struggle or a groan, unpitied and unregretted The members slunk away ,o their homes, where thel^s'lh.' hysum,ss,on to purchase the forbearance of their ,few 2 , and the.r part,sans-if partisans they had-reserved I. .nselves ,n s.lenoe )„r a day ,.f retribution which .■„ before Cromwell slept in his «rave ,°. ■ LiNGAKD, 6» 106 THE SIXTH READER. 28. AMERICAN LITERATURE. WE cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence ; we cannot love her with an aifection too pure and fer- vent ; we cannot serve her with an energy of pui-pose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is our country ? It is not the East, with her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the North, with her thousand villages, and her harvest- home, with her frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the West, with her forest-sea and her inland isles, with her luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with her beau- tiful Ohio and her majestic Missouri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations ^■^ of the rustling cane, and in the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these but the sister fainilies of one greater, better, holier family — our country ? 2, If, indeed, we desire to behold a literature like that which has sculptured, with such energy of expression, which has painted so faithfully and vividly the crimes, the vices, the follies of ancient and modern Europe ; if we desire that our land should furnish for the orator and the novelist, for the painter and the poet, age after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war ; the glittering march of armies, and the revelry of the camp ; the shrieks and blasphemies, and all the horrors of the battle-field ; the desolation of the harvest, and the burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of cities ; if we desire to unchain the furious passions of jealousy and aelfishness, of hatred, revenge, and ambition, those lions that now sleep harmless in their den ; if we desire that the lake, the river, the ocern, should blush with the blood of brothers j that the winds should waft from the land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the roar and the smoke of b. ttle ; that the very mountain-tops should become altars for the sacrifice of brothers ;— if we desire that these, and such as these— the ele- SiiekLs, tu au increUiblu extent, of the litcratuire of the Old RHETORIC, lOT Union a„,^,,,,Pjf;-'^ - and bless ma„M„d aLrat ' r"'"" '' =''"" '<"■" «"" - a„,e,. fac; tCs 'r^rt^MT";::'-*''''''"^"^"-' ch«ek;" then let u«rfin,r.„r. ''"° "" ""e''^'' patriots Wo w,"h a :L^1° ir °' *"'^ ''"'°^' "■'" » hope. "^ enthusiasm, with a Christlan'a wood" trt,xt„tr;s.^rtr''"" -'^--"'-^ educated, peaceful rhr,'. . ^ ornament of a free, andthat^r^SraC^rht'^;:-^^^^^^^^^ muou her garden of paradise. ' ^"^ ^^^^ Gbiicul 29. LEGEND OP ST. JODOCUS. TN trial of his servant's truth One day came begging, as a youth Of humble mien, in garments poor, The Lord, to St. Jodocus' door. 2. ^'' Give to him," St. Jodocus said ; Open good steward, thy store of bread- Heres but one loaf; my master, see, Left for our dog, and thee, and me." «. ^^Yet give to him," the abbot cried, For us the Lord will still provide." jfvi The sullen butler said no more But cut the loaf in pieces four! 4. " One for th One for "6 auooi, one lor me, our dog, aud one for thee " 108 THE SIXTH READER. Unkindly to the youth he said, And handed him his share of bread. 6. Again, in semblance yet more pior, The Lord came to our abbot's door ; " Give, still," the good Jodocus said, " Give him my little share of bread ; For us the good God still will care." And now he gives the abbot's share. ' 6. A hungered came the Lord again. Nor asked he the third time in vain ; " Give now, steward, thy little bit — God will provide."— He yielded it. t. More destitute and blind and lame, The Lord yet for the fourth time came; " Give," said Jodocus, " give again ; Doth not the doi^'s piece still remain ? For He who doth the ravens feed Will not forget us in our need." 8. The steward gives, the beggar goes ; Then through the air a clear voice rosex "Thou true disciple of thy Lord, Great is thy faith,— take thy reward; As thou believedst it should be, So shall it happen unto thee." •• The steward went to the open door Lo I onward towards the nearest shore Four heavy-laden ships are boriie, With bread and fruit and wine and com. Bu On 11. "F( By He Wh( 12. "On, Anol One One 10. He to the strand runs joyfully, And there no sailor can he seej •fi.\fit' [There are few pa^ pathos than this exqui should be read in the , MAY Heaven ^ i-'X over the ear 2. I have passe ants have seen m known each other at the close of day, the bosom of a va evening to his fir( loves 1" The exile 3. Whence come drives me along lik( is everywhere alone beautiful J but they; to me they gay no This stream flows g( "ot that which my Diembrances. The e KHETOBIOAL. But to the 8h„..„ a white wave rolled On wb,oh these weds we,.e traced t^'gold: II. "Feur ships are sent with large supply By H™ who hears the raveu's cry • ' He sends them to the abbot good ' WH th,a da,, four ti. es ,a™ Hi. food. "■ ''°°'' *■■"• «"= ffODd man's self is sent- A»ote,f„ti3,„^.^___^J««ent, One for the steward is coming in . One ffir +1,^ c!__ J . o ^" , loy One for the Sender's needy kin." ■vtA-v j^e^ TiUNSLATBD PBOM THE GerjuiT. 80. THE POOR EXILE Bhoald be read in the original.] ^''°'^' ^o appreciate it fully, it MAY Heaven guide the poor exile I TTp ^'■A over the earth. ^® ^°®8 wandering 2. I have passed through varinn, ... ants have seen me and I L ""*"'" ' *^«>'^ ''°habit ^nown each other. ' The e.i e"i "" *'?' '"^ ^^« ^^^ -t . at the close of day, I saw th s J ^1"'"^ ^'^^^ ' ^h-. the bosom of a valley, I said 7"^ f ''''^^' ''''' fr"'" -ening to his firesid, and seals 'hf "ir' "'° ^^^^^^ ^* ^-P The exile is ev;rywlrln:r^ a.on, those ha ««'erywherealonel These t! "™ '" ^he exile l>«tif«l , but they are ^ot he Z "" ' *"'' '^'"'"^ "^ ^ »e they say n'o thi„; The IT" '"" °' "^ """"''^ ' Ti.8 stream flows gently over the ^," '""'^''^'"•> alone »»t .hat whi„h n,/ohi,dho"d learT r- '"' "^ °"'™« « -"brances. The e.i,e is every^ere aLT, " """^ "'' '^ 110 THE SIXTH READER. 4. Tliene gong* are sweet ; but the sorrows and the joys which thay awako are not ray sorrows nor my joys. The exile is every whero alone I I have been asked, Why weepestthou? but whew I have told my tale, no one wept : for no one under- Btood ma. The exile is everywhere alone 1 I have seen old men surrouudwd by children, as the olive by its branches ; but none of iuo»0 old men called me his son ; none of those children called mo hln brother. The exile is everywhere alone I 6. I httve men young girls smile, with a smile as pure as the dawn, on him they had chosen for a husband ; but not one smiled on mo. The exile is everywhere alone I I have seen young men hoart to heart embrace each other as if they held in common Imt one existence ; but not one pressed my hand. The exjio in everywhere alone I There are friends, wives, fathers, brothers, only in one's own country. The exile is every whore alono I 6. Poor exile 1 cease to lament. Every one is banished like thyself J ©Tory one beholds father, mother, wife, friend, pass away and vanish. Our country is not here below ; man seeks for it horo in vain ; that which he mistakes for it is only a resting-place for a night. ^ 1 Heaven gaido the poor exile. He goes wandering over 81. A CHRISTMAS HYMN. TT Wtt» the calm and silent night! — ■*• Seven hundred years and fifty-three Ha4 Kome been growing up to might. And now was queen of land and sea I No sound was heard of clashing wars, Feaee brooded o'er the hushed domain ; tov^ Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars Hold undisturbed their ancient reign, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago I ^»u ■aA BHITOIIIOAL. Ill «• Tw.8 ,„ the cal™ „,d ,a,„, „,. ^ hit T"'" "' ''""S'"^ Borne .^.MU^ In.pafo„t urged Ws chariot's flight ' Fmm lordly revel rolling ,,„„f ' . ■ ''"-Phal arches, g,oa„,i/g, IZ ,2^ • A paltr, pro^ee far away! !w,r '^••" An the solemn midnight, Centuries ago? »• Within that province far away Went plodding ho,„e a weary boor . ■. A streak „f ,ig,,t before him lay ' '"^"^ Acr "hir;:f H^tt-e^r ^T Jold What was goinHrtittr'-' ^^•' The .'''™''"'^°°'y*tonght. The a,r hew cal., .nd eold, and^thi'o. Jn the solemn midnight, Centuries ago I 4. strange indiiTerence I_I„w «„d high The r^Var^rrrr "''--' ^-- Th. T, ' ' ^'"^^ "Ot Why; Hoi J ""' '■•»'^"«K->mawaresV . How calm a „,omenl may precede To thtt s«l, " '""■" ""' ""'=• ^--" 10 ttat still moment none would heed «w ' .W. Man's doom was linked, no moret'seve; " In the solemn midnight, ' Centuries agol «• It is the calm and solemn night I A thousand bells rirur r„f j , Thp-,,. i ^ ^^^' ^"d throw llmr .joyous npals phms-l 4 • Tho"^; 1 " 'ioioad, and smite ts^^ The darkness, charmed and holy now I ^^ t-- ^ vA/tr . 113 THE SIXTH READER. The night that erst no shame had worn, To it a happy name is given ; For in that stajule lay, new-born, The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago I Dommbt. ()i(»vAv'^ 82. BAEON GERAMB. rpHOSE whose memory does not carry back beyond the days -■- of Waterloo may have found, in Moore's politico-satirical poems, mention of a person enjoying a celebrity similar to that possessed more lately by a French count resident in London, aa a leader of fashion, remarkable at the same time for wit and ac- complishments. Such was the Baron Geramb, in the days when George the Third was king. But some may possibly re- member a higher renown gained by him beyond that of having his last bon-'mot quoted in the morning papers. 2. Being an alien, though neither a conspirator nor an as- sassin, he was ordered to leave the country, and refused. Ho barricaded his house, and placarded it with the words, "Every Englishman's house is his castle," in huge letters. He bravely stood a siege of some duration against the police of those days, and crowds around the house ; till at length, whether starved out by a stern blockade, or overreached by Bow Street strategy, he either yielded at discretion, or was captured through want of it, and was forthwith transferred to a foreign shore. 3. So ends the first chapter of the public life of the gallant nd elegant Baron Geramb, the charm of good society, to which by every title he belonged. What became of him after this? Did that society, on losing sight of him, ask any more? Probably few of those who had been entertained by Lis cleverness, or amused by his freaks, ever gave him another C thought ; and a commentator on Thomas Moore encountering the "whiskers of Geramb" iu one of his V8r.«» He may see L.uTZntl' f " """■""' »f'"-°-- fraternity, but clot ed:,rXror° ''"'""'' "" "' ^'» - >«-y dimension, hestridi:';i':tu:tr^ T ™" "' ^^ ofman-bearinff animal, selected of hundred, hs/ '""'"'"' 't '» ^:/" J-' P-P0.t.-on to the bnrdt ■ "'" "'^"^ '» t«nanee, and through the sintfici^l rf T ''"''' "^ "«»"'• gracefulness of demeanor It. "^i '"' '"""■'' ""' ">«<>'/ » -=, but even vS ".ett'ojt "' ''?,"'^-'^^^ ^-"«- iearted, and soldierly oourt^^Ctrfrt, ™"'' '''"* ^ I'-g gleam of wit suppressed T ! , "' ''^'' " «P»* """^ coruscations. Once, wh „ „1 f i'^^'P''"^" '"'° ■>'"™fe«> S- bronght as a gift t^ the Eugi^rCardi 1 ^'''"°' "" "^ -ketch of himself and his "Gfl l, , n ^'"°° " ^hhed the dust. ' '^''"'"" O'-V" ■■oiling together ia 6. When I called on him «. i.; an imperial autograph letteMn'r """7"* '"' "'"""^'^ "= tho/rallantry aniw'unds " h rsVrrh: ' "™°""°'°* *° >"■■• -oral other royal epistle tSt^*"? '''"""' "'" InniJ to friend. Yet h« i, n,„ u^ ^ Peasant tono of o^lor known i„ the Chu, ^ li! '"* ^ " '"""'^ "' *^ ^'"'"^«' ""t.n?,reading,™odi.atin„.o°„h Ivt . ■ """P''"" '■» «l'fying i„ conversation. Amo, 5L ° ' ,!""' ''" P™^""-' Howin.? with pietv i, ,„,. ■; '? """"^ "'"'■l^'' of Ws over- Tomb." "^ ■ ' " ""' P'--'^"l""iy tender, "My Saviour", lU THfi SIXTH BEADER. 1. The good old monk had been to JeruHalem, and had manifested his affections by a novel and exqnisito prodigality borrowed in idea from a Certain woman who had been a sinner in the city. He anointed the sepulchre of our Lord with the most costly of perfumes, the attargul, or otto of roses, as we call it, so that the whole house was filled with its fragrance. Such is the P6ro Geramb; such the second chapter of his kno'vii life. What had been the intermediate hidden stage? 8. When expelled, happily for him, from England, he very Boon fell into the enemy's hands, I know not how/ But ho happened to be cast into the same prison, I think Vincennea, wliere the good Cardinal de Gregorio was also in bonds, lie was first struck by the patiunce and virtues of his fellow-captive, and gradually entered into conversation with him. The result was a change of heart and a change of life. Liberty soon put the sincerity of both to the severest test. Baron Geramb re- mained attached to the land of his captivity : in it he joined the fervent and austere life of La Trappe. After some years he was sent to Rome as resident procurator of the order, whore I had the pleasure of knowing him. Several amusing aneo dotes mingle with his memory, to show how even in his sack- cloth and ashes lived his wonted fire. c^„,^ai. Wisbma^. 83. THE ANGELS OP BUENA VISTA. I. QPEAK and tell us, our Xiraena, looking northward far away, >^ O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array. Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come'thej near? Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear. n. "Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls; Blood is flowing, men are dying ; God have mercy on theii tiuuls P RHETORICAL. 116 Who is losing? who is winnin.r?_«'OvP.. Jn'l] 4 I see but smoke of cannoa cbudin. t Z '1 \"l "" ''"""' rain." ^ inioug-li tho mouutaiu nr. icot^forth o„oe .ore, Xi.e Ji ..^^ 1 the ™„k„ h.s roUed '"Vrar "" ''°'*'™ ^'''!' «'-"""^ ^o- «.o rani, of Hark I that sudden blast of hth^ f t>, .u wheels ; ^''' ' *^«^« the troop of Minon There the Northern horses thunder wifh .k heels. i-oJi:*^ ^nuuder, with the cannon at their lanoe I * -'"'°'"' »'"™-» P»ebla', charging /,„„»«. Down.he,g„..hetrave,o„„gHder3, hor. a„d f«,t together '^'^Notfr,":;;. ■■" '"^ "'"°-' "--«" "•- p.ough» tho won? "^ ^ **" "'• *'"' t" lost and who ha. "Alas I alas I I know not. <■„• j , •^er the d,ing rush t..e ^-^'p "'^"^'"f '^" f»» .• lie v'jII sixth read IB. VII. **lj9fi the vvind tho smuke .. liftiug: BleHsed Mother, save my *>^»'nl .. 3 :,;,.. t >. V, I can s»;e tl»<> j^oundcd crawling slowly i, '" from heaps of sliain: \J(vf • ^' Now they stat^'gor, blind and bleeding ; now they fall, and strive to rise ; Hasten, sisters, hasto and save them, lest they die before our eyes I VIII. " Oh, my heart's love I oh, my dear one ! lay thy poor head on my knee ; Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me? canst thou see me ? Oh, my husband, brave and gentle ! Oh, my Bernal, look once more On the blessed cross before thee I Mercy I mercy I all is o'er !" iz. Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena ; lay thy dear one down to rest ; Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his breast ; ''*^^^^Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral Masses said ; To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid. \*Ah ai.vw'X. Close beside her, faintly 'moaning, fair and young, a soldier lay, Vtd-'o Torn W'''Ii shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life away ; ' But, as tenderly before him, th e lorn Ximena knelt, <^^^^>tr — She saw the Northern eagle shining on Iila pistol-belt. tWJj,» «.^^ With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head With a saJ .nd bitter feeling looked she back upon her dead ; But she i;eL. ' ^Us youth's low moaning, and his struggling breath o' j, "i.. And she rai/i-jr; il ; cooling wate» to his parching lips again. \i'iii8perod low tli( smiled : Was that pitying f child ? All his stranger supplied ; With her kiss upo and died I "A bitter curse upor Prom some gentle £ North I" Spake tlie mournful dead, And turned to soothe bled. »4vJUi.>u Look forth once mor, wind Rolls the battle down behind ; Ah! they plead in vai] strive • Hide your faces, holy ai S'Dk, oh night, among shadows fall ; Jying brothers, fighting Ifirough the thickening rolled ; ^ ^ its sheath the sabre re RnETORiOAL. 117 XII. :* '''id'u'rr''^'' '■'•" '"*H "M„.h.,» ,.„™„,„, ,„. XIII. '' North 1" ^ '"""'^'^' ^^^'P'Hff lonely in the Spake the iiKJurnfuI Moyin . dead, ^'^"^ ^^'"^" ^ «ho laid hi,n with her And turned to Hootho ihn. i; • bled. ^pr: ""^ '""°S' ^O bind the wounda which XIV. Look forth once more. Ximenaf "Like a olo H k r wind ^"^® * cloud before the Rolls the battle down thp m..,, * • , behind ; '^" "'""^"•°' '^''^-'n? blood and death Ah I they plead ia vain for mercv • fn . >, ^ strive; '''^^' '^ *ho dust the wounded =* .0,. race,, h„„ .„,,3 , 0Mh„„ ChHat of God, f„.,i.e ,. ■' ■'*""*^ '°'hfd„":ff^,r""=' '"^ "°°'^-' 'et the oo„,, ,„, rolled; -^ ^ """^ *^'''^'^<^ ^'^^e apart the battle '■i--.the.h..e3.a,a„d.,oao,.o„.„,,.ewoo,. Jl *. [ I-' *. «r' ! ^i 118 THE SIXTH EEADER. XVI. liBIl'' Li n iw+V But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn faint aud lackin"" food : Over weak and suffering brothers with a tender care they hung. And the dying foeman blessed them in a straage and Northern tongue. XVII. Not wholly lost, oh Father i is this evil world of ours ; Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the Eden flowers ; From its smoking hell of battle. Love and Pity send their prayer, ,, And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in our air ! I'lLovv^ }^(«\\. Whittieb. I i 84. THE POSSESSION OP JUBA. [This chapter from Callista has been considered by able critics not to 1)« surpassed in ite way by any thing in the English language. Among the writers of pure kingly EngUsh, Dr. Newman stands unrivalled. We prefei giving the entire description in three lessons, rather than to take extracts which would destroy the effect of the piece.] "TJI/'EIL, my precious boy," said the old woman, "the * * choicest gifts of great Cham be your portion 1 You had excellent sport j'esterday, I'll warrant. The rats squeaked,' eh ? and you beat the life out of them. That scoundrel sao ristan, I suppose, has taken np his quarters below." "Yo may say it," answered Juba. " The reptile I he turned righ about, and would have made himself an honest fellow, when it couldn't be helped." " Good, good 1" returned Gurta, as ii she had got something very pleasant in her mouth : "Ah! that ia good I but he did tK)t escape on that score, I do trust." 2. "They pulled him to pieces, all the mure cheerfully," said Juba. " rulieii him to pieces, limb by limb, joint by joint, eUr answered Gurt to hia eyes, oi Juba. Slowly, to he quick abc that's luxury I 3. " Caeso's s np for his vlewf but he has gon Ihey call blisg a] domain, you kn worried him a g( in my line, niothi morning and eve you merry; but 4. "Ha, ha, , time, though yoi Well, and have y Is any one getting blows the wind ? cius, I suspect, ^ perately frightene your friends hard word. They'll hav in order to kill thei added, thoughtfully surpassed by the r isn't it, mother ?" 5. " Yes, yes," si tiiom, many or fe^ come." "I don't se Juba; "not at all, ( Callista turns, why f company, and keep ^ 6- " No, no, my b( •ny master. You ar, f^aokle to in good tU RHETORICAL. 119 y' i" -y line, moL, a„ this Ul ^ '"'' i •" ""' "'« »* '^"'^ '"^'' -rm„g a„d evening, and 'thrive „ fZuT " "'"' °' "'""O y«» n-y , hnt it. too n,uoi, for „„ liZlT"' " "'"^- ^--- tin>o, though you .ake ZLlZ'' 'i^"^"'' '"'""^ '^h.^ Well, and have you brouH. rn!?' *''"* ^°"'^« joung.^'"*^- I-ny one getting a rZet Ze ^V"' '"" *^^ -P'W blows the wfnd ? Are the . ^ ' °' " ^^^"^^^ ? How ^'"«; f «-Pect, wrn:l::^.V^!^--P/ Th.Pe. Perately frfghtened," said Juba "tf .. T ^" '''"" ^'" your friends hard enough fea I '^^ ^^^^^^^ "ot smite won!. They'll have to make aw f.. """^ ^^'""^^ '« «'« in order to kill them : a^d I aL T ^. , '"' ^°'' '^' «««^«ion. added, thoughtfully. "They av^f '^'^^ ^^^^^ ^'V ^e surpassed by the rabble 'risJ v '.^ ''^'^* '^'^ ^'^ "«* isn't it, mother?" ' Pity Christians are so few, 5. " Yes, yes," she said • " hnf ^ f*"***'- <»"•«•" "Idon'tseetheval,. 'T """" Oallista'^ ,„ „J"ta; "»otatalI,e.cepTttatrr "" °"" P-P' V said «»il»ta turna, why shonM tTlZlTZT'^'''-^'- « «pan.v, and keep your hand in ?" ' """""•' '° ''«'? 1"=' «.-t:"rfa::e:r-i^^''^^^^^^ 120 THE SIXTH REAPER. /Vo, f^fJfls with my merry men. Come here, child," said the fond mother " and let me kiss you." 1. " Keep your kisses for yaur monkeys, and goats, and cats," answered Juba : "they're not to my taste, old dame. Maater I my .master ! I won't have a master I I'll be no- body's servant, ril never stand to be hired, nor cringe to ii )*uj^A,, bully, nor quake before a rod. Please yourself, Gurta ; I'm a free man. You're my mother by courtesy only." 8. Gurta looked at him savagely. *' Why, you're not goinw to be pious and virtuous, Juba ? A choice saint you'll make ! You shall be drawn for a picture." "Why shouldn't I, if J choose ?" said Juba. "If I must take service, willy, nilly, I'd any day prefer the others to that of your friend. I've not left . the master to take the man." *' Blr.spheme not the great gods," she answered, " or they'll do you a mischief yet." " I say again," insisted Juba, "if I must lick the earth, it shall not »\a.» be where your friend has trod. It shall be in my brother's fashion, rather than in yours, Gurta." 9. " Agellius 1" she shrieked out with such disgust, that it is wonderful she uttered the name at all. " Ah I you have not [rvw told me about him, boy. Well, is he safe in the pit, or in the stomach of an hyena ?" " He's alive," said Juba ; " but ho ha^ not got it in him to be a Christian. Yes, he's safe with his uncle." 10. "Ah! Jucundus must ruin him, debauch liim, and then we must make away with him. We must not be in a hurry," said Gurta, " it must be body and soul." " No one shall touch (J him, craven as he is," answered Juba. " I despise him, bu^ let him alone." " Don't come across me," said Gurta, sullenly " I'll have my way. Why, you know I could smite you to the dust, as well as him, if I chose." 11. " But you have not asked me about Callista," answered Juba. " It is really a capital joke, but she has got into prison for certain, for being a Christian. Fancy it I they caught her in the streets, and put her in the guard-house, and have had her up for examination. You see they want a Christian fof the noBce ; it tiifiy will flourf 12. "Thefui my boy : I tolc answered Juba make a match c of other things likely, more like in the pit, as I ti old woman," sail 13. Gurta lool fixplanation. He "She wheed] • >e his Not the litt "She foamed She laid we] The priest g • 14. Gurta was a has not escaped, be said Juba, undaunt the witche's face ; ] am my own master, sumption of superii «o. I'll have my ov, a blood-thirsty old 1 Did not J catch you «? Youhadnai free, and were cuiti quivered and shriek "«'"ng his liver for so '"ybne; but you gl '^a'Jed in mimicry, i 15. Gurta was still '^^nl from the intensi RHETOIIICAL. 131 the noBce ; it would not do in h. they will flourish with her till 1 ,"?' '"^^ ^" P^-'^on ; so ^2- ''Thefuneshavoh r "e^'drf^'""*'^-^^^^^^^ -y^oy: I told ^ou so, lo / " f "^ ' Z' ^'^ ^' ^ '^-*>'-' answered Juba ; " ha I ha I She and T f ' ^'^"««an P make a match of it of somp 7 ^g^ellmg are going- tc of other things tha;tri /^^^ They're fhink'ing , l>k^y, n,ore litely,'^ slid Gurta 4o' '"' *'^ ^'^ P^-^^, mora 'D the pit, as I trust." " Yop,- ^ . ? '"^ P''^°° ^'"th her -~ oW woman," said Juba. ^ "^'^'^^ ^^« '^heated ^^ou fbr on^e, Ul^ '] 13. Gurta looked at him fiorcelv an^ -^ '^ explanation. He began singing 7' ^ ''''''^ ^^^*^'"ff for hi. "She Wheedled and coaxed, but he was no f , ■"•^ • tj hia own mastPT- i,o»^ "° ^°°^ .' "d Juba, „„da„„tedly. a lade . Tt "^ S"' '"■"« off,» """•Pton of euporiority. vTZL K °"'" '"'"^ 7"" ^s- »■ ra ha™ n,y „w„ way y""'," '""^^ '"»'■?'. you call „, . lood-thirsty old hag , \e3 5j "'" *'^''*°°«- You're . '"'Wf Yon had nailed him nn 1,„ i Pf»'">mg on that little ■' "'e, and were cutting him to 1 ' '"^ '"'' "»«"»' the ';™«d and .hn-ekef tC ^i^'^'y^' ^°" '---, as heP 122 THE SIXTH READER. Tf^U, ^^h r^ty Y' low, piercing whistle. " Yes I" cniitiiuied Juba, " you revelled in it. You chattered to the pr)or babe, when it screamed, as a uurse to an infant. -You called it pretty names, and squeaked out your satisfaction each time you stuck it. You old hag 1 I'm not of your breed, though they say I am of your blood. / don't fear you," he said, observing the expression of her countenance ; " I don't fear the immortal devil 1" and he con tinued his song : ^tyw- " She beckoned the moon, and the moon came down ; The green earth shrivelled beneath her frown; A^'t.v>" Bat a man's strong will can keep his own." 16. While he was talking and singing, her call had been answered from the hut. An animal of some wonderful species had crept out of it, and proceeded to creep and crawl, moein^ and twisting as it went, along the trees and shrubs which rounded the grass-plot. When it came up to the old woman, it crouched at her feet, and then rose up upon its hind legs and begged. She took hold of the uncouth beast and began to'''> fondle it in her arms, muttering something in its ear. At , length, when Juba stopped for a moment in his song, she sud- denly flung it right at him, with great force, saying, " Take that I" She then gave utterance to a low, inward laugh, and leaned herself back against the trunk of a tree under which she was sitting, with her knees drawn up almost to her chin. Nbwhak. 85. THE POSSESSION OF JUBA— (Continued). npHE blow seemed to act on Juba as a shock on his nervous -*■ system, both from its violence and its strangeness. He stood still for a moment, and then, without saying a word, he turned away, and walked slowly down the hill, as if in a maza Then he sat down 8. In an instant up he started again with a great cry, began r voice sp whateve underwo ficarinsr • last, exhf loudly an cannot eg fell down 3. Whe something tasted it encampme; still shallc as \i he 01 rolled abou he came oui shoulders, a The shock . 'lim, and the on for a whi] 4. Sudden of his oi-gan embodying c he might inde in bravado, b '"ng, and a t stranger. He he now belies J)im. He felt of good and ( 'he evil ; but ] fhe other ; and ^^^ prey of sort over him. 5' The day h{ RHETORICAL, began rnnnn->^ at tho inr. r. • ^'^ ™^oe s,,™,,-,,; ,•„ ,,„ t: -P-;. Ho th„„,M „o .,., , rt^tever ,t was, Xept up wi,h '^ w I""' "" ""■•"'■ "' underwood, trampling and or,,, ""''"■''' *'''"«1> the , " ««»n-„8: the birds and sm: ! ' ',' """" >"' ^-^i and f "- l««t, ozha„3ted, he stood^M ,f "" '""'"' '""e^i there A. ,,(, '»"-ly and deep,,, as ^^ ^l^!'::^- l'"- ''-' -rd it .ty ''^"^ ~not escape from yonrselfj. "^0' 'l" °"" "'•^''"^' "Y™ fell down and fainted awav (.;, '^''"■' '"''»d W™ i he !<• When his senses rutnrnBd 1 ■ j, •"-thing in hin, „<,t himself Vftif"' ^P'^^-™ was of .' oncampment had by this time """ ''^ «"rta's »'i« shallow. Hep^nnged nt!i^™T ," ''"™''"' th""?!- ■« ■■fl.e ought to drown him el 'h^''"«^ '^'""'' "P»" hto 'OIW about in it, in spite ™ L ! '] '*''" "^^P"' He ke came out of it. his tunie st ^k^!-! ", "f^ "'■"'• '^''en «honIders, and let it hang rourd U 5 n "' '" '"'■"' " "* bis The shock of the water, ho'ev r J^d '"'""*• -''t -..-irht. '-"^ :ra-r:-ir'-'^--- -bodying conceptions whlrhL ,' "^P*'™'-; words 1« »..ghti„deedj,ave borne with nf,-'^ ""'"'' ■"*° ''» "md, " !» b-vado, but Which now iZ'ZZT"'' ""'■ "' """^^^ '« and a terror to which he Cd , t"'^"™^'"'^ '™* «^--v, t'-anger. He had always in ,Z h\ ^ ^'^ '"'«'' 'l"'te a « "ow believed with a reali " . / "'"'"' '" " «<"i. but '-• f f* it as if he aw Him h' r,TY "'*"'' "^ '» f Sood and evil beings He d d ' , , ' """" '''"> ^ world ";"i but he shra,,f from'',, f „„":' 'T, ""= S™". - hate ""> °'ter ; and he felt hinsplf T ""'' ''" was terrified at \ \i "- Key of some d.^ d :; :;t:i':„ """"■ ■■*^'°»' -'^ -•". '» ^^ i •«. { - w r, vxiicu tyrauuized "--.badc,osed-themoonhadrise.Hep,un,edi„t. 124 THE SIXTH BEADER. kli4«« C-K,. Xo^ yfJvJ^t^^ w* ''V t the thlfik(fNt wood, and the trees seemed to him to make way for him. Still thoy seemed to moan and to creak as thej iwovc'd out of their place. Soon he began to see that they were lookinjff at him, and exnlting over his misery. They, of an inferior imttiro, had had no gift to abuse and lose ; and they remained in tliat honor and perfection in which they were created, Bifd« of the night flew out of them, reptiles slunk ftway ; yet «oon he began to be surrounded, wherever he went, by a cirel© of owls, bats, ravens, cruws, snakes, wild-cats, and apeg, which were always looking at him, but somehow made way, retreating before him, and yet forming again, and in order, m he marched along. 6, Ho had passed through the wing of the forest which he rntered, and penetrated into the more mountainous country. He a»cended the heights ; he was a taller, stronger man than lie l»ad been \ he went forward with a preternatural vigor, and .Sht and growing distinct I^Zel""''"*^ ™' "' ""^ ^«-'- o. iiJsewhere the PTmir.ri crowned With chestnut woods o'r Zi"\ ""'''" ^""'■'-■'^^ and acacia, or wildernesses of °L */''""*'°°= »f cedar t earooba. the white p ^la TniT'l"' ""^ ""'"""^^■ wi..le overhead ascended the.! Pix^-'ician juniper a«d an underwood of n,yrtt oll'W'"""'' "^ ""^ ^op,^ *p.of„sion„fwi!d-flowerCr„etdth ''™' ''"'' ""'^ *■ Jula stoo'm to have retr»4cd f """" '""""'«» " reH,/ traced his steps; but he w7s Z,'r " '"""'' ""'' «» have was not his own master, and »„ 126 .THE SIXTH READER. 44^^'• ]M\jjM^t KAwftM hurried on. Sorely against his determined strong resolve ana will, crying out and protesting and shuddering, the youth waa forced along into the fulness of beauty and blessing with which he was so little in tune. 5. With rage and terror he recognized that he had no part in his own movements, but was a mere slave. In spite of him- Belf ho must go forward, and behold a iieiyce and sweetness which witnessed against him. He dashed down through the thick grass, plunged into the water, and, without rest or respite, began a second course of aimless toil and travail through the day. 6. The savage dogs of the villages howled and fled from him as he passed by ; beasts of burden, on their way to market, which he overtook or met, stood still, foamed and trembled ; the bright birds, the blue jay and golden oriole, hid thein- Belves under the leaves and grass ; the storks, a religious and domestic bird, stopped their sharp clattering note from the high tree or farm-house turret, where they had placed their nests ; the very reptiles skulked away from his shadow, as if it were poisonous. The boors who were at their labor in the fields suspended it to look at one whom the Furies were lash- ing and whirling on. Hour passed after hour, the sun attained its zenith, and then declined, but this dreadful compulsory race continued. 1. 0, what would he have given for one five minutes of oblivion, of slumber, of relief from the burning thirst which now consumed him I But the master within him ruled his muscles and his joints, and the intense pain of weariness had no concomitant of prostration of strength. Suddenly he besjan to laugh hideously ; and he went forward dancing and singing' loud, and playing antics. He entered a hovel, made faces at the children, till one of them fell into convulsions, and he ran away with another ; and, when some country people pursued him, he flung the child in their faces, saying, "Take that!" and said he was Pentheus, King of Thebes, of whom he had never hoard, about to solemnize the orgies of Bacchus, and he began to spout learnt or heard a I , r. ^* ^^^ ^* ^^ Gi f* ■"" 'grove, where the Tlie hideous bru and goat's foet, m Jamb, decked witl K frisking before hii by the sight of a to dance too. He that they ceased t as a diversion. 9. Suddenly he 1 ing with himself, a and the struggle e and crawling like got near^his attitud Bhuddering, he laid to the idol as a w mingled blood and then again, as if J dignity, he jumped i broke him to pieces, fore the lookers-on r 87. M [Denis Florence M'Cartt afout 1830, ranks among t Ireland. Besides "Ballad "ttnit u-e, with some of th t'al,].r„„. Ileis,^.e,,eii,, tatholic University of Iroh AH I my ] Wait Waiting for «HETOBIOAL. m began to spout a chorus of Greek . t learnt or heard spoken ' ^^°^"^ffe ^^e had never TI.0 hideous brutal god ZlT" " '™" ■■" """^ "^ ^"^ a.. "'Sgled -•".led blood and durw^ e T; .bTut^f '" '°"^- *"« tten agam, as if Nature had suL r„ "'"^'=''- ^" verance, the like of whL the word . ^ "" "^'"' "^ ?"«- two continents have been moorld safe l' """"' """"''""^' *« ■ so safe by this little metalli/r. °°^ """"""■-moored ** '^i ;».onnt of .. inky blots^S rott Ha X "° "'"" P""-- "» 'ocols of treaties, could ever ave done "' '"""'=•" <"?'* 4. And what is the result „f t<.- ■' ««k used to boast of M ' ^ ^17"'^?* ' ^''y- ">« «, and which, attached to thekl ', ' '"'" "''^*' «■« " ■» the „,idst of the sea and „! t " ""''• ''"°" -io^troy electrfcity has boon similar ; empired r" '"^ """^^ °' - - - and oanse t J ^eSr of h ^^ oS^ 5. Bot this little spark which •„ ocean-this flash of lightnii^ l,v? "'"" "'"*"= «»''" '*« »k»re_this fire which born» P"'*' f™" siwre to f too mighty waters maTrr 0"^' "^d"'^ '^'°" "■» «»"' too sacred an expression to use-to be th?"' '' " ^'^^ ""t ■"■I of that charity between thlt ' '""^ "'' ">at love ■«red tezt says, that "maTv w!^ . """'""^ "'' "'™1> «>e 134 THE SIXTH READER. talons, and let them drop into the ocean, and they will cross it Bafely and come to us, not accompanied with any roar oi thunder, but murmuring the words of softest peace. Cabdinal Wiseman. 41. THE HUMAN VOICE,, T GRIEVE to say it, but our people, I think, have not gen. y,:^Mx^^ J- erally agreeable voices. The marrowy organisms, with Bkins that shed water like the backs of ducks, with smooth ^ surfaces neatly padded beneath, and velvet linings to their'' singing-pipes, are not so common among us as that other pattern of humanity with angular outlines and plain surfaces, arid integuments, hair like the fibrous covering of a cocoa' nut in gloss and suppleness as well as color, and voices at once thin and strenuous,— acidulous enough to produce effer^ vescence with alkalis, and stridulous enough to sing duet? with the^katydids. 2. I think our conversational soprano, as sometimes over- heard in the cars, arising from a group of young persons, who may have taken the train at one of our great industrial ^ centres, for instance,— young persons of the female sex, we ^^^ _ will say, who have bustled in full-dressed, engaged in loud etrident speech, and who, after free discussion, have fixed on two or more double scats, which having secured, they pro- ceed to eat apples and hand round daguerreotypes,— I say, I think the conversational soprano, heard under these circum stances, would not be among the allurements the old enemj would put in re-iaisition, were he getting up a new tempta- tion of St. Anthony. 3. There are sweet voices among us, we all know, and voices not musical, it may be, to those who hear them for the first time, yet sweeter to us than any we shall hear until we listen to Bume warbling angel in the overture to that eternity of blissful harmonies we hope to enjoy. But why should I l-fTAA^*-^ tell lies ? If n the truth. I ne ened me by th( there might be her voice to so spoke, we wouk the jaws of Ere) 4. Our only c few natural choi our souls, and tl little, by-and-by this is no fiction. Sirens a fable, bi Iddy who followe( 6. Whose wer They both belong maid, not otherw certain great ho< was summoned to fioul was evidently with sweet uncert; 6. But to hear soft, liquid inflexii of serious tendern been a child that riing, that, had her accents,— if she h stance, why, all I that I should have hy, and it is so mu( only three minutes lasts fifty years to the line of descent manifestations of j only as short-lived through the squart BHETOBIOAI,. 135 tell hesf If my friends love mo. it is beca™,, 1 1„ ,„ „„ the ruth I never heard but two voice, in „,y „fc , '^ %,^^ .ned ,ne y their sweetness, . . . Tl,oy maJe „„ fc ,"^S' !^ there m.ght be constituted a creature with such „ herd i„ her vo,ce to some string in another's soul that tf she V* P/ spoke, we would leave all and follow her, though Vwee '2 ' the jaws of Erebus. "b" it were into 4. Our only chance to keep our wits is, that there are so few natural chords between others' voices and this strW „ our .ouls, and that those which at first may hate treVa httle, by-and-by come into harmony with it.But T ttl this is no fiction. You mav call thJ Jn .11, ^°" /- Sirens a fabln h,.* I J^'^^ c^" the story of Ulysses and the " birens a fable, but what will you say to Mario and the noor lady who followed him ? ^ 5. Whose were those t.wo voices that bewitched me so? certain great hotel was niissi„,^, and this Teutonic maiden was summoned to give information respecting i, TL'rmple «.u was evidently not long from her motherland, and poke with sweet uncertainty of dialect. ^ 6. But to hear her wonder and lament and suggest with B ft, liquid inflexions, and low, .ad murmurs, in tones as full of serious tenderness for the fate of the lost key a f it had been a chiM that had strayed from its mother^as so wil nnig that had her features and figure been as d lici' us as W accents,--if she had looked like the marble Clvt" for n hat I should have drowned myself. For Lake EHe la do llmZrT. '■'''' ^'''''' *^"" ^ -^^^alliance, that 1 i!^f!f y^" "'^^^"'^"^ ^'^^" P^«««« along down ^^e 1 ne of descent (breaking out in all manner of boor^ mnifestations of feature and manner, which if men "" -1 tlirouo-h ""l";"^'^^ "' ^^"^^'^«' ^°"JJ l*'-' readily traced back tlirough the square-roots and the cube-roots of the family ' ->m 136 THE SIXTH READER. Btem on which you have hung the armorial bearings of the De Champignons or the De la Morues, until one came to beings that ate with knives and said "Haow?"), that no person of right feeling ' could have hesitated for a single moment. 7. The second of the ravishing voices I have heard was, as I have said, that of another German woman.— I suppose I sbill ruin myself by saying that such a voice could not have come from any Americanized human being. ... It had so much woman in it,— muliebrity, as well as femineity ;~m self-assertion, such as free suffrage introduces into every word and movement; large, vigorous nature, running back to those huge-limbed Germans of Tacitus, but subdued by the reverential training and tuned by the kindly culture of fi% generations. Sharp business habits, a lean soil, independ- ence, enterprise, and east winds, are not the best things for the larynx. 8. Still you hear noble voices among us,— I have known families famous for them,— but ask the first person you meet a question, and ten to one there is a hard, sharp, metallic, matter-of-business clink in the accents of the answer, that produces the effect of one of those bells which small trades- people connect with their shop-doors, and which spring upon your ear with such vivacity, as you enter, that your first impulse is to retire at once from the precincts. 9- —Ah, but I must not forget that dear little child I saw and heard in a French hospital. Between two and three years old. Pell out of a chair and snapped both thigh-bones.^'^' Lying in bed, patient, gentle. Rough students round her, ome in white aprons, looking fearfully business-like ; but the child placid, perfectly still. I spoke to her, and the blessed little creature answered me in a voice of such heavenly sweetness, with that reedy thrill in it which you have heard in .he thrush's even-song, that I hear it at this mo ment, while I aia writing, so many, many years afterwnrds^- BHETORICAL. 187 "C'est tout comme un serin ''^ oniri ^i r^ i Bide. ' ^^'^ ^^^ ^^■^^"'^^ «tuJt>nt at my 10. These are the voiced which RfrnrV +i,„ i conceptions as to what tl,P J ''^^■""*^ «^ '"y will be, if we shalT ent.? H "1 "' ''' *" ^^^^^ '" ^^^^^n V, " wt^ Buaii enter throuffh mip nf +i.« + i -a some grave theolcgians have maintained.-if in BlaTn' Te th in a ;:::, r"-'^""'™" '""> ^-'^). »<• wait »e .Jne:;Ix;z^.r/::f;:::r;e:- Holmes. 43. THE BELL OF LIBERTY. [This Is an admirable descrintinn „v +i.„ « ^ G^'^'^^-r,, . l-tion 01 the Vr^^^ZTT^T^TiT T"'^"' *^«^- controL] ''^ "®° '^"^ Independent of aU British -ore than doubtM F ! °°"''"=' """ "■"" f""""' »>« ^ ''.'gtldtlti:''"''-,''''"^ ''^^- ""*"'* <"f "^ fet'era V- ^tnea nis Jiobte spirit, arose on the tth f>f Tnr . . "^ '-"*' 'f'^ f>i June, ana in a ' Just lifre a caaajy-bird. 138 THE SIXTH READER. clear, MWmato tone, every accent of which rang to the hv tht'dt «xtrcmity of the silent hall, proposed the following reso liition i • " Jkmlvfd, That these United Colonies are, and ought to be, Umi ttud iiidepcndent States, and all political connection btc iviGun m and the States of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dbsolved." 8. John Adams, in whose soul glowed the burning future, ieeondfed tho resolution in a speech so full of impassioned fer- vor, thrilling eloquence, and prophetic power, that Congress was carried away before it, as by a resistless wave. The die wa» ca»t, and every raan was now compelled to meet the dreadful l»»He. The resolution was finally deferred till the Igt (if 3\\\y, to allow a committee, appointed for that purpose, to draft a Declaration of Independence. 4, When the day arrived, the Declaration was taken up, and debated article by article. The discussion continued for three day», and was characterized by great excitement. At length, the various sections having been gone through with, the next day, July 4th, was appointed for final action. It was noon known througliout the city; and in the morning, before Congreg* assembled, the streets were filled with excited men, mmQ gathered in groups, engaged iu eager discussion, and Otheri moving towards the State House. b. AU business was forgotten in the momentous crisis which the country had now reached. No sooner had the members taken their seats than the multitude gathered in a dense mass arottnd the entrance. The bell-man mounted to the belfry, to be ready to proclaim the joyful tidings of freedom as soon a* llie final vote had passed. A bright-eyed boy was stationed below to give the signal. 6, Arotind the b«')l, brought from England, had been cast more than twenty years before the prophetic motto : **VlWQLhiM LiBEBtr THROUGHOUT ALL THE LaND UNTO ALL VSM Inhabitants thereof." Although iti loud clang had often sounded over the city, tha BHETORICAL. 139 proclamation engraved nn ito {..^„ t i. , O'clock, «/d„o'r Iflh Var;pe!: l"?'"' "' "'","" '"" "It has Dassed" Ti,^ ^ "penea, and a Aoice exclaimed, ward w th a clan«r +}.n+ .f. ^j i i^-iCKwaid and for- Mxi^ dicing tnat startled every he.irt in Pi.,-i„^ i i.- like a bugle-blast. " Oin„. f .,...„ .! ^. '!!^ /" Pt"ladelphia Clang I clang 1» the Bell of Liberty re- .0;. ace™. „™. .T ,„ ,a:rr:r t::^ -"jr - When thoy reached New York b ,s raJL T T'"' «w», and the e.cited ^ultitud , surgt. Sr " d « ? °™"' 10. When the Declaration arrived in Rnafn. ,u gathered to old Faneuil Hall to hZl ! ' *''" P'^^P'"* sentence fell from the lip!: 1 ::,t?^^ ^^ *'^ '^^^ and soon from everv fortilr t 7.' ""^ «^""t wentup, thunder of cannonZSh'^^^^^^ ^^' ^^^^'^ ^^^^^^^ *'- 140 THE SIXTH READEB. A 43. THE JUST MAN. . JUST man is always simple. Ho is a man of direct aimi and purposes ; there is no complexity in his motives, I }Wlr' and, thence, there is no jarring or discordancy in his character. He wishes to do right, and in most cases 'he does it ; he may err, but in most cases it is by mistake of judgment, and not by perversity of intention. The moment his judgment is en- lightened, his action is corrected. Setting before himself always a clear and worthy end, he will never pursue it by any concealed or unworthy means. 2. We may carry our remarks, for illustration, both into private and into public life. Observe such a man in his home, there is a charm about him, which no artificial grace has ever had the power to bestow ; there is a sweetness, I had almost said, a music, in his manners, which no sentimental refinement has ever given. His speech, ever fresh from purity and recti- tude of thought, controls all that are within its hearing, with an unfelt, yet a resistless sway. Faithful to every domestic trust, as to his religion and his God, he would no more prove LXm ■ recreant to any loyalty of home, than he would blaspheme the Maker in whom he believes, or than he would forswear the heaven in which' he hopes. 3. Fidelity and trutL to thude bound by loVe and nature ^to^ his heart, are to him most sacred principles ; they throb in the last recesses of his moral being, they are embedded in the life of his life ; and to violate them, or even think of violating them, would seem to him as a spiritual extermination, the Buicide of his soul. Nor is such a man unrewarded, for the goodness he so largely gives is largely paid back to him again ; and though the current of his life is transparent, it is not shallow ; on the contrary, it is deep and strong. The river that fills its channel glides smoothly along in the power of its course ; it is the stream which scarcely covers the rugged- ness of its bed, that is turbulent and noisy. 4. With all this gentleness, there is exceeding force ; with .^'i'W' ii KHi<;e, does n„, e»"l's high freedon,, one i,o„„d „?? ^ ""' >"oven,c„t of tie <" ;ol.i» country, he wi„ be n^Cr' to""'' '" '^ ■""'' '''^=" ™ ". the legislative assen,b; t Ih rhT'^'f- "'"^^ fr^t-es send him, he maintains invil,! , '"^ "'"''"? ««f- with a brave cl„„„,.nee he n^.ir u " "'"" »''"«' '" h™ • with a grave dig ity" t™" ""h "''"'"^ "^ "■" -•'-«" P'acehim in the connciTo t 'e! ! "t""''^™ "^ '"^ --«" favor can win him, and no dan " ? '? '""S''"'*''. ""i no '»d fearless of po™, he wm afl t IT J '""■*''"■<'"' '» '>^<^ '■•« «tand by it, what;verle th:::',t '"''' ''''*' ^''^ O" te Itaens not to popular elan h! '"■"°"'' '"■™ ''""'=' ' PO'er; and, whi e he is l„Tdi "' "°' '»■■«» «cowl of fc fountain of justice aLToK T ""°P"'™ ^''»" -"^ ;"-. Place h?m in the" ll * ™f »° »'■''" ""Pede its for lis opinion, let life or delthr "'" ''"''""i »>" upon him .P;»^ rashly, bnt he IS X^fZ!^^ -""• "^ -" not iwtdtrte:^,:;;,^^^^ 'l*enT,ang „pon his necfctt , ™7 """'f'^ »'«■>*, let Wes in,pl„re, he mee s affl 1 ''"""'^' '<" """"f- I wl* others ...ecB r ■ T '""' "ff^tion: he »„„. i-p«-'-y;rS;::;,n:ii:s\-\:*-cea,t£ '^' *"*^ tile waves strike Gy.i I., -r 11 I #t--^^:i 142 THE SIXTH READER. ^ against his breast, his foiuidation based unchangeably on tho ' centre of eternal right, his head majestically erect, gloriously • lifted up to heaven, bends not before the shock, and his breasj receives the tempest only to shiver it. w-'-^' v, 8. Place him in the dungeon ; shut him in from tho fair^. earth and the open sky; wrench him from the delights ot lome ; let him be loaded with years ; let him be enfeebled by eickness ; let him be wearied with confinement ; let life hang IX ^y t^*<^ finest thread that ever held a spirit from its God,— J the unwavering faith of a true man upholds him, and his hope jt ' remains undimmed, and his peace remains unbroken. 9. Call him from the dungeon to his doom, he goes rejoicing to the scaffold ; he looks cheerfully on the axe ; he faces death almost with gayety ; he forgives his enemies; he pities his destroyers ; he wishes good to all men ; he gives a moment to silent prayer ; he meekly lays his head upon the block ;— then, there is the echo of a blow that sends a sou! to heaven. This character is not imaginary ; it is real, it is practicable. Tlie origiual is Sir Thomas More, of England. gilkb. 44. SUMMER HYMN. [Scheffler, who wrote under the name "Angelus," holds a distinguished rank among the poets of sacred subjects in Germany. -The glories of sunrise, tlio yy^^ Boft radiance of the mellow moon, the tints of the spring flowers, the silvery stream, the noics of though tingale, the sound of tlie lute In which he mdt tho reflected beauty of their Creator, have a peculiar and incxpreasible c'lana, IS in the writings of Angelus.] Tj^ARTH has nothing sweet or fair, -Li Lovely forms or beauties rare, But before my eyes they bring Christ, of beauty source and spring. a. When the morning paints the skies, When the golden sunbeams rise, Then my Saviour's form I find Brightly imaged on my mind. t. Sweet Sweet Far mi Are til 8. Sweetn At t*he But mo Is to m 9. Lord of Come, r( See Thin RHETORICAL. <- When, as moonlight soCt]y steals vU Heaven it<4 fhr.., > o'-t-Mis, i,nt>t . Then r , ."""f "=■ ">'<-'8 revcah, & » thousand timt-s more bright *• When !<,,;„ P^eMs their .anod tints display, What must their Creator bo? Or he brooklet's devions conrs; S ra.ffht n>y thoaghts to Jesus ,no„„t Ab the best and purest fount. ' *• f "'? '^ '""« ""^ "'Stt-bird sings c:r:::tr^"™"-"-'^««'^-" -.re sweet than every tone | Are ^ae words, Maria's Son. - At the echo's answering sound; Bu more sweet than echo's fal] Js to me the Bridegroom's call. ••^ord of all that's fair to seel Oome, reveal Thyself to me • tT ^u- '"'^^ ^^^'^ ^^^'^«t light See Thme unveiled g,„rie« hnglt ■ • 143 144 THE SIXTH READER. 10. Let Thy Deity profound Mo in heart and soul surround; Pronn my soul its idols chase, • Wean'd from joys of time and place. 11. Come, Lord Josns I and dispel This dark cloud in which I dwell; Thus tu me tlie power impart, To behold Tiiee as Tiiou art. Thom the Gehmait o» SoHBrrLia, 45. THE CHRISTIAN PREACHER. ["The dignity and grandeur of the office of the Christian preacher have never been more eloquently described than in Lamartine's magnificent sketch ot Bosauet."— Potter.] ^ /^F all the eminences which a mortal may reach upon earth, Vy the highest to a man of talent is incontestably the sacrcfl pulpit. If this individual happens to be Bo88uet--that is to say, if he unites in his person conviction to inspire the com manding attitude, purity of life to enhance the power of truth, untiring zeal, an air of imposing authority, celebrity which commands respectful attention, episcopal rank which c* nse- jrates, aye, which gives holiness of appearance, genins which constitutes the divinity of speech, reflective power which marks the mastery of intelligence, sudden bursts of eloqii.juce which carry the minds of listeners ].y assault, poetic im igery which adds lustre to truth— a deep, sonorous voice which reflects the J tone of the thoughts— silvery locks, the paleness of strong" emotion, the penetrating glance and expressive mouth— in a word, all the animated and well-varied gestures which indi- cate the emotions of the soul— if such a man issues slowly from his self-concentrated reflection, as from some inwaid sanctuary— if he suffers himself to be gradually, by excite- ment, like the euglc, tiie first heavy fla[ipmg of whose wings can scarcely pn leii.^-th respires fi pulpit beneath hi vine Spirit, and p Ihe inspiration wi being is no longei Divine will, a pro 2. And what hroken, soured, in sionato struggles which, like that of «he cathedral, has I power and Divine speaks to kneeling profound si.ence, t( of the head or by soull a voice whic when it astonishes c speak in the name name of philosophy name of country, wh promacy, which is t< '"'raself, who is an u wl'ich speaks, in the unequalled upon earl '8 hnpious and the an 46 [These graceful and exn ^^wded into a brief space "^Peating the idea presentee "WHAT i ^^ The, — -•'--atll- — a The shadow RHETORICAL. HM UB loi.« i« ■„, l„„g„,. i„ji„™;; , '^;; ™ "» '*« "°rd of God-,,.,-, Wvino will, „ p,„ph,„.„ ™;'^'_^"'"° ! <"> l-ocome, an „,.^a„ of (,,„ 3. And what a TOicol A v • l.r"kc.„, eonrod, irritated, or troubled T.";'' ''" "'"" ''»">•»<'. '«-(. ..onato str„,,,.,e» „f in'teresT pe ^ ^, "r"'!'"^ ""« P- ^ »l'"^li, like that of the thunder T hi . , '"" ' * ""'"o 'k« cathedral, has never bee, T 't '"f"' " '"^ °'«'"' '■' '' power and Divine persuasion otTe of • a" "^ "■"'""" "' .pcalts to kneeling auditor. • . ""',' i" ™M which only profound si.enee, to whi hnLt ? ""''='' '^ "''""^d to in of the head or by faZ! tears 7' "'° '^ "" '""""""o- "II a voice which is „e™ ~f H """" "^"^'""'^ »' «>e "ken it astonishes or wound, a v!^^ ."'■ '=»"fadicted, even •peak in the n«„e of o^Zl „h '■ '" '"'■ ""'='• "^^ ""t «»e of phi,„3„phy, wli rUe to d "™'''° ' ""' '•» '"« name of country, which is l„ al n ' ^ Ir"'"'™ ' "'"■ '" «"« P»»acy, which is temporal, .or^tl ' " "' ''^'' «"■ l"">«eif, who is an a„„„t tran!f ?. '""""' "'' *« ^P^aker «feh speaks, in the'nle :f 07! '".k"'" °"^''^'"' i "«' ""equalled „p,>„ earth, and aLin,; ■ ■ '1 .""''^ "' '""^''-S" " -p'o- -d the ^naiiest oTp::;::::^::^;" """"" '»« .-e^a „,. tiff ^ «"'«'' ,^M. _lheechoofal„„g.,ostname,. A h, The shadow of an lUlo hour's brief talk an arrant naug-ht U6 THE SIXTH READER. A flower that blossoms for a day, Dying next morrow ; A stream that hurries on its way, Singing of sorrow ; The last drop of a bootless shower, S^ Shed on a sear and leafless bower ; A rose stuck in a dead man's breas^- This 19 the world's fame, at the best! Uml^ ».■> i-t "What is fame? and what is glory? A dream — a jester's lying story. To tickle fools withal, or be c4>At>u^ A theme, for second infancy ; A joke scrawled on an epitaph, flftJk' , A. grin at death's own ghastly laugh; A visioning that tempts the eye, But mocks the touch — nonentity; A rainbow, substanceless as bright. Flitting forever. O'er hill-top to more distant height, Nearing us never; . A bubble blown by fond conceit, Um- In very sooth itself to cheat ; b.»v%^.r^ The witch-fire of a frenzied brain, iA^^ |U' A fortune that to lose were gain ; . ' A word of praise, perchance of blame, .A^v-f The wreck of a time-bandied name — \^-f;*iil Ah 1 this is Glory 1 this is Fame 1" ' MoTHnimu. 47. CHRISTENDOM. • [NoValb belonged to that brilliant society, consisting of Tieck, the two Schlegelfl, and Stolberg, which, at the commencement of the pr-sent century, ss?jt6\i SO pOnTeiiul sn {HSuCBee iu arreatiug the progress of ihut litcfsij Pacpmism which Leasing, Goethe, and others had encouraged and promoted RHETORICAL. ur Noralis powessed wonderful versatilif^ nf . forp<^tical richness and r^ri^TTZ^^^;-^ "'' '*"'' '" '"""'''''''"^ pervaded Germany, he caught a glhnpfe "fT T ""' '""^"^"^ ^P^* that .anctuary of the Church4.hcn h?wrena ef 7" "'k'^' ''""*' ''°'" *^« "^ ^'^*^-^ T^^f """^y by the pitiless hand rPHOSE were the bnlliant and ffIorio„« t; u ' J- formed one Christian couL T ""'' "^^^^ ^"•"^Pe .abited this civilized porioro/^^^^^^^^ ^"^' ^'^"«*-^- '- mterest bound together the 'L?' ^^'^"' '^"^ «"« ^""''"on widely-extended spi^itualenTpi "w'^ ^"^'"^^« °^ *"'« possessions, one head guided Ld ' united th ^''^* '"'"'"'' powers. A numerous corporatTon to v .' ^"'^' P°^'*'«^^ accea, stood in subordinat o Hfa * hlf T^ °°^ '^' - mandates, and zealously strove to n t/"'' '^''"*^'^ '*« power. Every member of ft / '^^n^o'^date its salutary 4^t 2. A filial co^^^etr^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^ How serenely could each onp n7f I *^^" '°«t'"ction8. tbese holy men a secu'e f" Lrf "" '" '"'^ *^«^' ^^^ ^y every tranVession?afoS";r^' ''"'"^' '^^ ^™' ^°^ "Te was blc>tted out and eSf'ThevT" 'f^' ^"^^^^ «^ 7-nd.^. on tri::; :ro:r\rcorr ^ ^^^^^^ ^ to^d^ra^arut:^^^^^^^^^^^^^ out from them. They nrerrr 1 ''''■^'- ^^^^e went -venous Virgin 'f Tr s^^ lo "VT ^^ ^^^ ^^^^' heavenly power, was prepared to Ln ' """^ ""''^ * the most fearful dangers "' ""^'^^ ^^^^'^^^^ from Child, had withstood "^hetel t'5" '"' '^^ ^-"- -.^., „„„.» to nu,„a„ity at the throne of G«l. " •" °""'"' * ""'' ""'""^ °' -'■"' d'" -n leave the boa„.if„, 148 THE SIXTH READER. assemblies in ihoae churches, which were adorned with heart- stirring' pictures, filled with the sweetest odors, and enlivened by a holy and exalting music I In them were gratefully pre« served, in costly vessels, the sacred relics of these venerable servants of God. And in these churches, too, glorious signs and miracles attested as well the eflBcacious beneficence of these happy saints, as the Divine goodness and omnipotence. 6. In the same way as tender souls preserve Jjjcks of hair, or autographs of their departed loves, and nourish thereby the sweet flame of affection, down to the reuniting hour of death ; so men then gathered with pious assiduity whatever had belonged to those holy souls, and every one esteemed him- self happy who could possess, or even touch, such consoling relics. t. Here and there the grace of heaven lighted down on some favored image or tombstone. Thither men flocked from all countries to proffer their fair donations, and brought back in return those celestial gifts — peace of mind and health of body. 8. This powerful but pacific society zealously labored to make all men participators in its beautiful faith, and sent forth its missionaries to announce everywhere the gospel of life, and make the kingdom of heaven the only kingdom of this world. 9. At the court of the head of the Church the most prudent and the most venerable men in Europe were assembled. Thither all treasures flowed ; the destroyed Jerusalem had avenged herself, and Rome had become Jerusalem — the holy abode of God's government on earth. 10. Princes submitted their disputes to the arbitration of the common Father of Christendom, willingly laid down at his feet their crowns and their regal pomp, and esteemed it a glory to become members of the great clerical fraternity, and pass the evening of their lives in divine contemplation within the walls of a cloister. 11. How very beneficial, how well adapted to the exigencies of humau nature were these religious institutions, is proved BHETORICAL. 149 by the vigorous expansion of all h, 'nonious developn^ent of all n 1!^'". '°^^^''^«-t)y the har- which they promoted-bv IhT^r,- ^'^**'^"^'^t"^l faculties viduals attained to in every d!n.^^^''"' ^'''^^'' ^^'^^ 'ndi- and by the universall/prZ ^^ "' "' ''' ''' «-'--- in intellectual or rnatLTreZnT T '' ''""''' "^^t^- -- Of Europe, and evenrtt:!!:!^? ''' ^^"^ NovAUg. 48. THE GOOD OLD TIMES. [Rev. J. M. Neale U a Puaevltn „i WB lato work, "HieroIog^r^S/^^- The followin, ^tract, f™„. ' 8t the present time.] ^^ ^ ^^ ""^^ force to the state of Enghmd AH I the good old tiraes of Enn-Iand 'oZ'^ft ^ From their Holy F^ith , ^^'''"''' ^'^^''^ her evil day, " fell away , "''' "'' ^'^^ ^"-'^^t rites, her peo^I, When her gentlemen had f to feel J • ' ^-^'^ ^^^«' ^°d her yeomen hearts ^j^^^ y nonored, for they knew that Hfe who for us M whea the ecu, was tdt m et .Ih'Tk'"' T ""'' yet more ; " "^' ^^^ Church could do For the chanting priests came slow in f * . went on before ' ^ ^'°°*' *"^ ^^^ Cross And n' +k 'H'^U^ To teltrZT-f ^,r..^«^» ""^ --^ — wave, grave; " "°'-' "'""O" "»'» victory o'er the 150 THE SIXTH READER. But times and things are alter'd now, and Englishmen begiK To class the beggar with the knaye, and poveity with sin. in. "We shut them -p from tree and flower, and from the blessed sun ; i We tear in twain the hearts that God in wedlock bad made one — The hearts that beat so faithfully, reposing side by side, JUvX^. ^.For fifty years of weal and woe, from eve till morning-tide ; No gentle nun with her comfort sweet, no friar standeth nigh. With ghostly strength and holy love, to close the poor man'e eye; But the corpse lo thrown into the ground, when the prayers are hurried o'er, '' To rest in peace a little while, and then make way for more I IV. We mourn not for abbey lands, e'en pass they as they may I But we mourn because the tyrant found a richer spoil than they ; He cast away, as a thing defiled, the remembrance of the just, A.nd the relics of the martyrs he scattered to the dust; Yet two, at least, in their holy shrines, escaped the spoiler's hand ; And S. Cuthbert and S. Edward might alone redeem • a land ! And still our litanies ascend like incense, as before ; And still we hold the one full faith Nicsea taught of yore. A. V. / And still our children, duly plunged in the baptismal flood Of water and the Holy Ghost, are made the Sons of God ; And still our solemn festivals from age to age endure, And wedded troth remains as firm, and wedded love as pure m'a landl >re ; t of yore. JLM'.< jmal flood 3 of God; idure, ve as pure BHETORIOAL. England of Saintfl f fk« i, . Ti- .et I aeeJ it» ^I LT-f "/f " " ^^ «» <\u.u^i^ "^^^ ' "^ay aot live to see, Shall melt a wait of ♦», T^en Shalt thou^^nVX^Ct^if H^ ^^^^ *^« «-e , above : ^ "''* '^^^'^fi^*^' % martyrs' prayers ^ Then Shalt thou find thy truest wealth fh • ». , love ; ^ ^emh, their holy deeds of And thy Church, awaking from her sW at length, ^"^ ^^^®P' ^^^^^e glorious forth Again shall banner, orosa »„j i"oen.ed aisfe. ' ""^.l^' «'«""' through the vir. ct,xr ''''■■"■ '^^''--•■•--h„oh.. ,^^ _ nes, and mat™, .hall have each their hoi, %ht ; *^ '" '**^°' but not without the '"""'"'^""'"'''•'"'— ^.-Oodde^nd the right, . 169 THE SIXTH RE\DER. < Vt < 49. MARYLAND. IMr, B««d WM a brilUant lawyer and eloquent orator of Maryland. Tht tolJ^Bf extract 18 from an impressive address delivered on the anniversary 0f tb« kmlitig of Lord Baltimore and his colony on the green shorei of ihe St Mary** Hiver.] rpUB land of Mary, so named at the instance of Henrietta •■- Maria, was to receive, in its sheltered seclusion, the siiffer- ing brethren in the ilaith of the youthful queeiwBut the exac- tbitf of the Penal Code so inpoverished the Catholics of Eno-- land and Ireland, from among whom the first emigrants were collected, that it was only at an immense expense, out of his private fortone,(which had, as yet, through causes already al- Itided t©, remained intact,jthat the proprietary was enr.bled to equip, nnder the conduct of his brother, who seems to have been eminently fitted for ttie trust, an expedition of about two bnodred gentlemen, including their domestics. 3, With eqaal piety avd taste, he denominates "The Ark," the sUmt whip that was to bear this family ."'"om the devasta- tion ©f the ancient world, with the sacred traditions o' prime- Tftl times, to the green bosom of a new earth. Her light con- ' sort i§ named "The JDove," and the voyagers prepare to leave their home, $. Tlmr home I What a tale of sorrow is concentrated in that single word 1 a sensual utilitarianism had not then sub- dued the hmt feelmga of the heart and philosophized the expa- triation ef a family, down to the cold calculations of expe- diency tliat direct the migration of a commercial firm. The country had trampled and spurned them, but it war, reserved for modem times to hear, that " to make us love our country, our country must be lovely." Oh no 1 such is not the lat guage of tfdth and nature. 4. We love our country, because it is our country, maugre the malice or misrule of man j God has, for wise purposes. bnplanted in our bosoms the principle of attachment. Wo lore throti|fh the blest necessity of loving, ere we can well di**- RHETORICAL. 153 'iM, n.ay be blighted ^ ^^Z^ZH^ZZ'' ''^^'^^" '-^ i'-^ first I„.„riauce orij. stiffen, i„ d'eaft '''''"'' °' "''''^ '' ^ .hen,.e,ves bad !dber/d tZftr; LITC l^e:"" J which is sustained bvZLf^ *^' * "•""'"=' ""•"I'ood,-- fi™„e. a,™a.e^ bZ k J^ b'Zt'r'.Tr^r'-^' "^ pa% and „„.„,!:":; zf^:^:^^'^::^ ^z^^ .rcsa, ,n contempt and obscunV, but stil, tboy ltd ^t- * --" Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. Their constancy they kept, their love, their zeal • Nor nun^ber nor example with them brought ' T™ from truth, or change their conftaiit mind." -...t;;^ And dear to theln was the fair >an,i ,u d«; tX h ;'lZf;f "^ r'^ r ^""e cliffs, he. ve. her ocean ireeLs T oat w tt , ', '"* °""""^ *^ ^"^'^ >" Spenser, of Dryd n and Zt "^"^^ "' ^''""=''' »"" Surrey" the"; l.^ ®'"'^™P'"''-». and "all.aocomplish..d i-Hnce, of i::i":ft' :^:^pv; :;':^^ i---^' -; » Bia*- the T^lbJt^ "t ' '^^" ^^^^'^'-d^' ^J'e Cliffords, the Spencers Talbols-,-the mei^vvho sou.^ht the shock of nation/aa thly *AV^1 154 TUB SIXTH READEJR. % did the fierce pastime of the tourney — who bowed in confes- Bion, and knelt at Mass, and received their incarnate God, Bheathed in the armor that might cofiSn theii corpses ere the Ban went down ; England, rich in monuments of the free juris- prudence of her early Catholic times — the work of her Brae- tons, her Britons, her Fortescues ; rich in the monuments of her old Catholic charity — her churches, before which modern imi- tation sits down abashed and despairing; her cities of colleges, whose scholars once were armies ; richer in the virtue cf her saints, her Beckets, her Mores, her Fishers, and the countless array whose names, though unhonored on earth, are registered in the Book of Life, and whose blood pleads louder to heaven than the prayers of her Sibthorpes and her Spencers, for the return to Christian unity of the beautiful land it has made holy 1 Wm. Geo. RBEa 60. THE FEMALE MARTTH. [Mary G , aged eighteen, a " Sister of Charity," died in one of our Atlantic cities during the prevalence of the Asiatic cholera, while in voluntary attend- ance on the aiclc] FOR thou wast one in whom the light Of Heaven's own love was kindled well, Enduring with a martyr's might, * Through every day and wakeful night, "* Par more than words may tell: Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown — Thy mercies measured by Jiy God alone I 2. Where many hearts were failing, — where The throngful street grew foul with death 0, high-souled martyr 1 — thou wast there Inhaling from th ; loathsome air ^ Poison with every breath. Yet shrinking not from offices of dread For the wrung dying, and the uucousciouB dead. ^^ • BIfETORICAL. .. J55 3-And whoio the sickly jT^r shed Its %ht through vapors. da„.p. confined, A new Electra by the bed Of suffering human-kind ! Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay, h.,.,,^^ To that pure hope which fadeth not L^. tt 4. Innocent teacher of the high ^ And holy mysteries of Heaven I lu mute and awful sympathy, As thy low prayers were given; And the o'erhovering Spoiler wore, the while, IL ^ An angel's features-a deliverer's smile I t^^ *• t^^""'^^^ *^«k I and worthy one Who, turning from the world, as thou Before l.fe's pathway had begun ' Had r^ i\^P""^:*''"« flower and sun, Had sealed her early vow • n^Hv: IV'' '^^"*^'^°^ ^- youth. Her pure affecfons and her guileless truth. ^ U. ^' Co'nS n °'' ''"'■'^ '^''' Nothing here Could be for thee a^e^ reward;^ ^ . ^^'"«J8 a treasure far more dear! ! Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear Ot living mortal heard,— The joys prepared-^the' promised bliss above^ The holy presence of Eternal Love 1 t. Sleep on in peace. The earth h: s not A nobler name than thine shall be. The deeds by martial manhood wrought. The lolty energies of thought, d^ ■ine fare of poesy-^ These havo Hut f.."jj -_j « ,. «?},»ii T- '" '""'' ^^°'"^ honors;- Shall Tme unto Eternity consign. W^ k -ttam \ W6 THE SIXTH READER. 8. Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down, And human pride and grandeur fall, — The herald's line of long renown — The mitro and the kingly crown — Perishing glories all I The pure devotion of thy generous heart Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part. Whitthb. Im X tvi»->'^ ^ Y(h 61. AMERICAN HISTORY. rpHE study of the history of most other nations fills the •A- mind with sentiments not unlike those whicli the American traveller feels on entering the venerable and lofty cathedral of Bome proud old city of Europe. Its solemn grandeur, its vastness, its obscurity, strike awe to the heart. From the richly-painted windows, filled with sacred emblems and strange antique forms, a dim religious light falls around. A thousand recollections of romance, poetry, and legendary story como thronging in upon him. He is surrounded by the tombs of the mighty dead, rich with the labors of ancient art, and em. blazoned with the pomp of heraldry. 2. What names does he read upon them ? Those of princes and nobles, who are now remembered only for their vices ; and of sovereigns at whose death no tears were shed, and whose memories lived not an hour in the affection of their people. There, too, he sees other names, long familiar to him for their guilty or ambitious fame. There rest the blood-stained soldier of fortune, the orator who was ever the ready apologist of tyranny — great scholars, who were the pensioucvl flatterers of power,— and poets who profaned the high gift of genius tc pamper the vices of a corrupted court. 3. Our history, on the contrary, like that poetical temple of fame, reared by the imagination of Chancer and decorated by the taste of Pope, is almost exclusively dedicated to. the ffieaiory of the truly great. Or, rather, li^ the Pautheou o/ RHETORICAL. 157 no idle ornament encumL L ' ",' ■"°''"'' '"'"'•'' Within, i-ve„ e„te. from at™ and T'T'^' ^"^ P- "«•■' o^ radiance around. ' ''""'' "" ^l""' •») the flames and the smoke of Nero's conflagration. Rome re- Aw ^^"^^'^ ^^^^ ^*^® ^°^ beauty in the mellow sunset of her fair- est day of refinement and elegant letters. The golden age is not yet all gone. , ij^^rw 2. The enchantment, not yet all dispelled, lingers awhile around temple and triumphal arch, amphitheatre and colonnade. While poetry, eloquence, and the fine arts are slowly and not ungracefully sinking to rest on their own heaped-up trophies, the altars of Venus, and Hebe, and Bacchus are fain to break beneath the rich ofierings sent thither by high and low, from every *' region" of the city, and from the suburbs. i (, ^ 3. How every remnant of the urbane manliness of yore is softening away into Greek sentimentality and Oriental lux- ttriousness 1 Pleasure, with both her hands, flings perfumes and roses over the mansions that crown the hills, and among the suburban and inter-mountain crowds over whom swell up j^. j^ j^, j^every day unwonted forms and numbers of circuses of great vastness, and most luxurious baths : all through the day-long leisure of equestrian youth, a mimicry of Grecian sports stirs along the once warlike Campus Martins. 4. To sounds of soothing music processions of fancifully decorated victims pace the solemn way to the almost untroddei temples. The Roman knight smiles languidly on his train of white slaves that troop along in pairs, or cluster in groups k-^u along his usual progress to an imperial bath, or one of his own delicious villas. The gravity and power of the Senate have vanished, still the stately retinue is borne homeward with bolkw pomp. 6. Ever and anon from the gates and walls of the city com« r outbursts of boisterous iov • it ■<, tl,„ „™. • revelries send back th jr „^h . P^^nan g„ard, ,ho8e tbat palace hni that Jn T """"=' '" "« P"'^""" the theatres : " a «' Wgh or low vouuloroti .. ''^'' ^°'' '''""'"™ "<• d""* 4.hare iiTe i,::;'';:rrir'^?""''-"-^^'™-"^^ yawning along the roads orTn th. « u ""'' '""d-Pi"-'"- ^:t£^"-"~--SZt:tr- brightness „;.,^-f;:\^:' ^ -V" *e faint,, alteriug^ 'ite»-the Litany of Sep„Ichrarrn7 • ° "•* "'"' '''''"'°"'' y 01 otpuichial Inscriptions, commonly ending Ifl4 THE SIXTH READER. '' with dread and tears," is already begun— the first dates in the calendar of the Roman martyrology are already fixed ; and in Rome, the capital and mistress of the heathen world, the contest for the dominion of Rome — the empire of the world- is already fierce and hot,between the foes of God and man, and the divine Spouse of Christ. 11. Soon shall the engagement spread through the provinces, and the field of battle become as vast, and the trophies that ornament the triumph of the victorious party become as nu- merous, as all the nations and tribes of earth. Manahaw. 65. ACRE. ["The city of Acre was the first seat of the sovereignty of the Knights ol Malta."} BEAUTIFUL as it is, in our own day, it was yet more beautiful when, seven centuries ago, it was the Christian's capital of the East. Its snow-white palaces sparkled hke jewels against the dark woods of Carmel, which rose towards the south. To the east there stretched away the glorious plain, over which the eye might wander till it lost itself in the blue outlines of hills on which no Christian eye could gai^* unmoved ; fov they hid in their bosoms the village of Nazareth and the waters of Tiberius, and had been trodden all about by One whose touch had made them holy ground, jti^^ 2. That rich and fertile plain, now marshy and deserted, but then a very labyrinth of fields and vineyards, circled Acre to the north ; but there the eye was met by a new boundary— the sunny summits of a lofty mountain range, whose bases were covered with cedar ; while all along the lonely coast broke blue waves of that mighty sea whose shores are the empires of the world. And there lay Acre among her gardens; the long rows of her niarbie houses, with their flat roofs, forming terraces odorous with orange-trees, and rich with flowers of a thousand hues, which silken awnings shaded fr<»c» the sun. ■i.i*.'^^ ^HETORlCiL. IM tie Jinights of 8. You might walk from one end of fh. •* these terraced roofs, and nevel oil' T^ '' '^' ''^'' ^'^ and the streets themselves were I .'"/ '"*" '^' «*^^«t« ' brilliant with the chTZZZl V '"^' ''"'^ «^-P« t^-.ed With the nohlesreliv^C^^^^ "'' ^-^' 4.^ ^^ 4- It was the o-avp«f rroiin * / . Europe. ,^%'\jam^ ? of those bright waters that ^^7 ?' "^ "'°''' "■" "■'"-' »uthera sunshine, aad rthTl h H '""*'''' '" *"«'">'' »■ fro. the west, ever/hJl ta r oh -1" *"' '"''■'' '"<"» thie art, as yet rare In E^T 3 I^ T T'""'" ^'""^ ' f"^ lavishly employed in Acre ard IT ? "' ^^ ^" ™'-« "' •- 'k^ce by the Crusaders. E^ervnltrr'^ '• "' '""S"' '""- iW by its own merchants and foH '"* "' '"■^'"' '"^'^^ crowned heads kept npt'tbiu he !' """ "" '^'^ "■" "'-tJ courts. "^ °P w.th.u the c.ty walls their palaces and each their residence he™ Tltue thrTe' 'T '"™""'"'' '-<• t««ic Order had estabIishm;nT« as w,l !?',;" """ ""= f^"' »" a scarcely less s„.pt„™ lal ""^ ''"'P'''*""^' »"" 56. THE MAHTTBS OP FATHEELAK. ^OE^woe to tyrants I Who are they? W.O. a?;- r^^ba-r :;-?--' er ocean, ,sle, and continent ? f ''"'^^ ---w^ ^1 Id beasts they are, ravening for ave • ^ u J: sTh'^.' r'^ *^^ world'theirT:;. ^^^^ Pest ambushed in the noontide day ' vU>.A^ ^ «tars of ruin and dismay. Z ' '^^ We e„.d ,hem con.ing from afa^^^ Heard, and rushed into the war • vve ^nssed our fathers' graves And rdshed to meet our Count'ry'« foe. 166 THE SIXTH READER. %, I trembled when the strife begCTi — Woman (was I), my clapp'd hands trembled With ill-timed weakness ;11 dissembled ; But now beyond the strength of man, lly strength has iu a moment grown, Arid 1 no more mj griefs deplore Than doth a shape of stone, knt\ doBt thou (tyrant) make ii/y boast ihea, of their lying All cold upon tho mountain and the plaiMj My mma whom thou hast slain? And tibat no tears nor sighing Can raise 'd'xilv >)< ads agaiv: ? t. My «on» not va;.,v . have died, For ye yom- con.! ay glorifled 1 Eaeh momi^nt u^ hi death ye bowed, p On high your martyred souls ascended j J tk^ ^^n^. Yea, »ofiring in perpetual cloud, Tbi» tjarth with heaven ye blended. W^mv-c- A living chain in death ye wove ; And/ rising, raised our world more near those worlds above 1 4. TJ«ey perish idly ? they in vain ? When not a sparrow to the plain Drops tincared for 1 Tyrant I they Are radiant with eternal day 1 And if, unseen, on us they turn Thorn looks that make us inly burn, And swifter through our pulses flow The boandiug blood, their blood below 1 |.U.^Vv| b» How little cause have those for fear Whose outward forms alone are here ! How nigh are they to heaven, who thero Hare stored their e .' . 'ist, teuderest carol Whi This Our Its !^ O'er Are i Upon TTTHE ' " it ^3EN ' poj bilitfes of t tives press pects invite demand our W'orld has a Ijeg-inning a cause of Lib 2. Greece I nurse of arn chanted the p she? Fortw to the earth. W temples ai fragments of 1 i'eautiful in ru 3. She fell I Innited at The: triumph r lied I «d by hei owr people. Them ]'''»>• It was i r^nts, and dis |f»gles glanced BHETOBICAL. Whate'er Thig was ours of -gony hath erring pride, ... sanctified. Our .e^ed flower thy blasts but tear ^ er . . the storm hath passed, and we Ale standing here immovably Upon the platform of the Right 167 I>B VaaM. «7. THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC P^cta invite our e„tl,„^a3m ^m!', , ^'" ''"■"'^°' P™- demand our vigilance and^oderL: " ™"""^'' "' "»'=<' World ha, already reveal Jt,? •°"- """''''''"°'' ' ''''» <>" keginm-ny and tie end of aH n 'a!" ! ' """"""'^ '"'*». ">e «8e of Liberty. marvellous straggles in the a. Greece I lovely Greece I "the h„d „f i , •urse of arms," where »i.t„- '"''»"<' of scholars and tho *"ted the priise of be fand t, "•;'" '"'^ P"--™"- "=! For two thousand yeTrstt ' ' "'"" ""^ """' '' ""'h-arth. Her arts ar:l^:~™J-»^''o™d her *« temples are but the barrlr r' °" "'"' '"'^ »' ".8«nts of her columns :d he p" laV""""' ""'"^ ' ''^ l«>Blifal in ruins. '"'''"='' *'« >" ^e dost, yet ;'7Pt;. Ued bac'^upon he He rpoU''"'.:'' '"" "' "^ ^'-- "i by he, own faotions-she knlT . * """ """l"""^ ' -\-e.anofMaJll-;-':b:~ • Iffifinti ilia r»gles glanced in the already done by he <^is8en8ions. Rome I T OWP ni\y^,.~^ re ipt-ions, bauish- 'Pablican Rome I wt lose "''"* and setting sun,-where and 168 THE SIXTH liEADER. what is she ? The Eternal CUy yet remains, prond even in her desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as' in the composure of death. 4. The malaria has but travelled in the parts won by the destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have mourned over tho loss of the empire. A mortal disease was upon her before (J<= <^p ancestors, by the dear a,hes whieh rep„ „ ifth,? '"'" «', by all you are, and all you h„„e to ■ "^ °"' project of disunion ; resist ev-erv !,/ . ^ """'* """'y climb .our knees or ^oa """"'• '° '''"'' "'™' "^ *'')' liberty Swear l.; t,"" aT'' '"'""'' *'" "'"'^""'S^ "' vows, to be true o the ' "' '""' '''"' ''"P">'««'1 call upon y'u °1 ° T T"""'^' ""' "''™' ''"■™''= >"»■■ I wi.« 'inh:°^;,C;:u ;i I'^rr" """^ ^""^ ^°" ^— «'l.ich brings notlUn^ iZ , "'" °"™'' '"= '"" "^l"'*' »everco™es^„o°"?ir .'-.*"■"" ","' "''P™^'^""- »-"' of our country. "^-'"^^'fJ-, »■ Jetenco of tho liberties Judge Stokt. 8 170 THE SIXTH READER, % 58. DON'T T^'^POET. OLD LETTERS I Don't you • Bometirncs, t.) look ovoi old letters ? Some ot' tln.;in are dim witli years, and some j'^.are dim with tears. Ilc-o is one now, the burden of wiiich is, "Don't forget ;" the device on the seal is "Don't forget;" and the writer thereof went, winters ago, to " the narrow beds of peace." But surely she needn't have wviUetA u, .oc we mnH forget if we would. 2. "Don't forgot 1" They arc common words ; we hear thorn, perhaps use tbera everyday; and yet how needless, wc may almost say, ho^c meaningless they are 1 What is it we forj^et? That which wits fm'gotten and set down in the tablets of memory Icn^- ago ; set down, we may not remember whore, we may not remember when, but it is there still. Remove with the palm of Time the inscriptions upon marble — eat out with its "corroding tooth" the lettering upon brass, but that tiling forgotten remains unobliterated. 3. Some breath may wlihl back the leaves of memory to its page — in Rome hour on epitome of its contents may be uiirdllcd before us. Every thought consigned to memory is immortal; ^its existence runs parallel with the mind that conceives and the heart that cradled it. " Don't forgot 1" We cannot fugot. Earth is full of strains Lethean rf man's invention, but the past is with him still. 4. New days, new hop' new ^ ves ar ; but "pleasant, yet mournful to the soul is tiie memory of joys that are past." Our eyes are dazzled with the clear of the present, but di mined with the e.louds of the past, iiide as we w'l on the s.. iftest billow of to-morrow, we are never out of sigtit of yesterday. There it stands still, with a tearful, gentle li(r^ '., like somo pale Pleiad through the rack of the dtorm. ■ ' 5. " Don't forget 1" Ah! the scien^ .\a to forget wouM be more welcome tJ n au Mner^i'.nics. When the heart beats eadder, and the tide of lite runs slower, how the Yesterdays come drifting down to luld teach men the trickery of ["There has seldi KHETORICAL. L^^rl waiting Ago-waitini? for TTir. i /»-^*,V'l bidclon and unstaj^cd. ' '"^'"'^ ^"^J' ^-d hovel, un- 6 "n<»n't forc-et I" ai i Ocean itself. U..y as it i^lr i^^^JT "'?* ^-"^"'l^- ? Even "^ ^';" P-t. is the ,reat .«:„ ^"^ r,' : «";- ^» -cords ei.ce'8 dream was no fiction a„d I . "'' '^'^'''*^- ^lar- . whiten, and sway amid tf.o ,roZollJ'''"T\^''''''' '^^ ^S Sea is not oblivious, for " th^ sel Ilnl '"''''' ^"' ^^^'" t^« t'io sea shall g,ve up its dead." 1 W. THE PENITENT'S PRAYER ["There has Beldom I .«„ „nv f>.! oontablng ,„oro of the true poet. oTn7"'° ""'^ ^^'^^'^''^'y tender or MOTHER benign, -■■ L >'k down on me f >•■ gnef like thine; Thou who -lost see, In his death , ^ony,' Thy ,L»n divine. In faith unto the Putner Dost thou lift up thine eyes. In faith unto the Father Dost pray with maLy sighs. Tboswordispiercingthineownsoulandthon- • pray "'» ana thou m pain dost ^ ''t the pangs which torture Him ami .u ^^'1*^ pass a vay. '^""' ^"'^ ^^c thy pangs, Jna/ And who my wound can heal. And wh/» fu« _ • ' asunder brain and bone t )- UH >. -^^^ Tromblc'B and yoarns, ami is forsakoa— *V^,., Thou knowi'sf it~th()U aloiie 1 Mnv^A^ ■^> Whcro can I go? whci can I go? Everywhoro woo ! wdo ! woe 1 r ' Nothing that does not my own grief betoken ! And, when I am ah)nc, I moan, and moan, and moan, And am lie art-broken I Tlie flowers upon my window-sill, '}t^\ Wet with my tears since dawn they be ; All else were sleeping, while I was weeping, Praying and choosing flowers for theo. Into my chamber brightly Came the early sun's good-morrow I On my motluu-'s bed, unsightly, 1 sate up in my sorrow. Oh, in this hour of death, and the near grave, Look on me, then, and save 1 Look on me with that countenance benign. Never was grief like thine — Look down, look down on mine I OoistHK. 60. THE CHURCH-BELL. OF all musical instruments, it is by far the grandest, solemn or deep, or shrill and clear; or, still better, with both combined in a choral peal, it is the only instrumeut whose music can travel on the winds, can heave m nobe «wPllrt noon the breeze, and can out-bellow the storm. It alone speaks to heaven as to earth, and scatters abroad ita KHETORICAL. 178 "'.-„, like tl,e »howe.o,. .,;'"' "',"■ '■'""*' " "'" ft™""*^ •I- l.ii,'l.t.r .egi.u.sl 1°, ''" -'"•""'I'-'ovor come, f,-,„„ call „„. f,„r „ iJ^ "' "'7 .'*'•"'• '"'J-d, it «eo,„» "o"w occp,, t„ 1 ' .:i:::;,;: - '--n:y „..„„,., .elves with cartl Lton T'l ' ""*-'"'"" '" ""'" "-- vocal in,t..uL„t bolo to 'r"',', 7"'"'''' ' "^"^ °"'« but tho solemn oI,l hell !,„„ . i ' '^"'"^ ""nuscmcnts ; purpose, a„„ as wL t," fald f "■'" ''"^■"' '"^ ""^ «-" from the temple of G,"rf h ^ ^ n™' "-■'''"'""^' "' ""P"l>«>^ ib<-, a„<. „': tZJtoX / "°"""*'' ""' ^--^ • ^v^v-;^. CABDWil. WlMMill. f> 61. THE BIEB THAT CONQtJEBED J^AXD whicl, the Norman wo„ld make hi, own I While r'""^, " "'"■'' '""'' " '>™' »-«'-*™wn Wh.. ^the. „h,e cheeks some on the CenchM hand , T::.f:: -r'-": '"-''''' -»- '-« o-™--' > '^'^ ' ^ o are men ,n thee that relnse to die, And that scorn to live while a foe stands by 174 THE SIXTH READER. 2. O'Donnell lay sick with a grievous wound ; i^-ttUvA-ftVA, ; The leech had left him ; the priest had come ; The clan sat weeping upon the ground, Their banners furl'd and their minstrels dumb. 8. Then spoke O'Donnell, the king : • "Although My hour draws nigh, and my dolors grow; And although my sins I have now confess'd, And desire in the land ray charge to rest, Yet leave this realm, nor will I, nor can, While a stranger treads on her, child or man. 4 "I will languish no longer a sick man here: My bed is grievous ; build up my Bier. The white robe a king wears over me throw; Bear me forth to the field where he camps — your foe, With the yellow torches and dirges low, rl^t. The heralds his challenge have brought and fled : The answer they bore not I bear instead. My people shall fight my paai in sight, And I shall sleep well when their wrongs stand right." 5. Then the clan to the words of their Chief gave ear, And they fell'd great oak-trees and built a bier ; Its plumes from he eagle's wing were shed, And the wine-black samilTe above it they spread, Inwoven with sad emblems and texts divine, And the braided bud of TjTConnell's pine, And all that is meet for the great and brave Ti n past are the measured years God gave, And a voice cries "Come," from the waiting grave. 6. When the bier was ready, they laid him thereon And the army forth bare himj^with wail and moan ; With wail by the sea-lakus and rock abysses ; With moan tliroiigh the vapor-trailed wildernesses ; RHETORICAL. And men sore wounded themselves drew nigh And sa.d.«We will ^0 with our king and d1e> And women wept as the pomp pass'H by. ' The sad, yelbw torches far off were seen • But the black pmes echc'd the mourners' keen! They sue for pity, they shall not win » i, ;. But the sick king sat on the bier upright, '^"^ Andsa.,,. So well! I shall sleep Light: Rest here, my couch, and my peace beg!n.» 8. Then the war-cry sounded-" BataiUah Aboo !" And the whole clan rush'd to the battle-plain • Tharr T- 'r'' '■^^^' '^"^ '^^y ^--'d anew That an.end m,ght come to their king's great TJn Twas a people, not army, that onward^rush'd ' Tii; evening theii^^/^rf^^n^^^^^ But a shout swell'd up o'er the setting sun .^; And O'Donnell died, for the field was won ? So they buried their king upon Aileach's .hore • And m peace he slept-O'Donnell More. * 175 63. ST. BERNARD. mnyca, in the most briulnt a d '?. 7"" ^'"^ *° ^^^^'^^^ ^"^ ^e h<« '« m the monastic stlt no from ^ " T '"^ '"^^ "^^^^P^^^ -^nd pre- » tl-ir kind, nor through a d"!!;It for J m '"'■^^''' °°'' '"' "'« ^^^'^ »f the fltate itseltj ^ °' ""' *™""<^« «f "fe, but from alova A ^^ acknowledge Saint Bernirri tr. i, ^ men «f ^enint i. ^^ernard to be a great man and a ^ S^^'^^us ; he exercised -jver ».- ao-P «« ; « ' "'^ '^'gre an influence im THE SIXTH BEADEB. that has no parallel in history ; he refgnod by eloquence, courago, and virtue. More than once he decided the futmc! of nations and of crowns. At one time he held, as it were, in his hands the destiny of the Church. He knew how to move Eur3pe, and precipitate it upon the East ; he completely vanquished Abelard, the precursor of modern Rationalism. All the world knows it, and all the world says it ; all, with one voice, place him ^y the side of Xiraenes, Richelieu, and Bossuet. 2. But this is not sufficient. If he wag, and who can doubt it? a great orator, a great writer, and a great person, it was almost without his knowing it, and always in opposi- tion to his own wish. He was, and above all wished to bo, something else ; he was a monk and he was a saint ; he lived in a cloister and he worked miracles. 3. The Church has defined and canonized the sanctity of Bernard ; history is charged with the mission of relating his life, and of explaining the wonderful influence he exercised over his contemporaries. 4. But in studying the life and epoch of this great man, who was a monk, we find that the Popes, Bishops, and Saints, who were the bulwark and honor of Christian society, all, or almost all, like Bernard, came from the monastic orders. Who then were these monks, and whence did they come, and wiiat had they done, up to this period, to make them occupy so high a place in the destiny of the world ? 5. These questions we nmst solve before going farther. ' And we must do more ; for in trying to judge of the ajre in which Saint Bernard lived, we find that it is impossi- ble to explain or comprehend it, if we do not recognize that it was animated by the same breath which vivified an an- terior epoch, of which it is only the direct and faithful con- tiu«ation. 6. If the twelfth century bowed before the genius and virtue of Saint Bernard it was because the eleventh ceiitury bad been regenerated and penetrated with the virtue and HHETOBICAI,. 177 gemm of another ,„„„k, g,.„„„„ „., comprehend either (he epoch ,1 ,1 t' "*-' ™'''<' "»' apart from the salutary eds wh t.f " "' ''°"""'^' "''-'" rendered possible for the 1! '" ""^ '""' '"■'-■P''«d "" contested greatness had not l! '''' ™'' '^ '"'« °"- «-■ tHais, and the XZ'ZZT'' f "» «'-="«'-. "en fro. the raniL oU^l^.f^T:' '"^ ^"•'^^■'' review the entire period „l„" \ ™ ''^ ^""''"'S m «a-gory With the CI "^r,T'', ""^ '»«' --"ats of tl-i" i" view, describe t " mo, ' ""''■ "''"'' '''=<'?">? «'™.jgle i„ which the Ch"c "r''^"' "'"^ ""«' «'<>*»» «"ly their offsprings, in con, „on w tl, so ^ .T™'' ^''' their contemporaries. When Z' """"y tl'ousands ef f.™.sapartf„ them thle,". tut ^'T',™" ""* ™ ™"- (ire centuries. "'sftutions had existed more than S. To understand their orijin and tn „ hire and services we „,„„ , , "PProciale their ,ia- Saint Gregory ZlZCi:',::^'" ™f er Gregory-to O'.the tiara,, or bacic sti I fartt- to^"": f "' =™' leg«lator and patriarch of th„ „ , "' ^"'"^'^^ the "-' at least cast a g,,° e l"™ .j" '"" '''™'- «'^ ;P"" the superhuman e« s lad "bv t e'", '^ """"■•''• '» -.Uue, pacify, discipline, nd '^f 'T 'T\"'' """"'» mtirus, and succes»ively transf!! '^ "^ barbarous lioi«. '^ t«ansforra them into Christian „a 178 THE SIXTH RKAUEB, 63 FOR THE WINGS OF THE WIND TO WANDER! [Tho following breathings of the heart are full of poetical beauty, nnd testify that if the autlior turnc-' his attention as asf^iduously to ^^he Court ol tho Muses as to the civil courts of tlie land, he would stand lus higli as a \mM as he now stands at the bar as an eloquent and profound lawyer.] OFGR the wings of the wind to wander Farther than the sun in the zenith shines, Over the peaks of the paradise yonder, Eicher in gems than a million mines ! Up where the maidenly moon is beaming, The face of a snow-white angel seeming, Or queen of the sinless angels dreaming,— Love by the light of her starry shrines. 2. for the speed of a spirit's pinions. Soaring like thought from a burning braia } Soai-ing from sorrow in sin's dominions, . Realms where the pitiless passions reign I 0, but to flee from the fiend that chases Hope to the home of the charnel places^^ Lurid with lights of the faded faces, ;■.■■- Beauty that never shall bloom again. » 8. Why should I shiver beside the dim river Which the feet of Christ have coasted before? For the angel of death alone can deliver Grief-laden souls that are yearning to soar. for tho faith all my darkness to brighten ; for tlie faith all the demons to frighten ; for the love that all terror can lighten— M<*ry, sweet Mother, I ask for no more ! RHETORICAL. ■•Lc '\j--' i'.«-«^.i_ W. A MAN OVERBOARD .roan, a. i/i.e/si^..^:^. ':[; .": "-,r."'r'''^-i^ '^ ..oft, the captain is forward shouti, t L ^ t "• 1 1^ "" "" trees, and I an, clinffing to one of tl,„ .. , ■= ""'^ 2. The ship is I^tinrrady r:,t'°°^'''^"«'^"-* "P, sometimes as high as the varH ! 7, '' ™i2PP""S. with a whirl under'onrkeMhtr: "'"''" *''P'"*«''yK''' vessel quiver. The i^Jt 'tT.'^'Z'y p'^' '" th«L, »»" ; and, at the moment thl !t * ,1 ""'°'"'"'* •=""■ fire, that glaresCrire C Jf «,! '"' ^ ^'"'"» °' ! tl.c wet deck and the soars liL ""'■ ""'' S^''^'^''^ °" CM see the men's faees Tuirl'^ ?« "^ "" =° P'™. 'h-t I •he reefers on the y! dim" n' '';■,''"''"•"'' *f'''"'P-^ »' 1-nil.le darkness. ^" ' "''"^'"^ '*<= <''=a* i 'hen all is ' 3- The spray spits anffrily ao-aii.ct .t crash against the weather-bow 7^ ■ """"" '' *' ""^^ tf-ough the rigging o s a .1 , T"""""'" ' ''"^ ""'<" '>""'-, i.« to leeward:Ll£ ike the .1 T" "'"^' "'" «""' ''»">- . J captain in the lulls s ,tam 1 "t / '"™'°'- ' '«'" thJ^-^M the rigging, screa,ni'„: .fen o^vrn,::;fr ,"'. '"^ """^ -dtho thunder, dead";„i„g Cv le 'as if 'f "'"* "-"'"' ing sparrows. ™ "'' '^ ""ey were chirp. hi» .^«,'";:^:S Ir ^ '-" "I- the yaM-arm lose blackness comes, and the till • , ''" '"^ """■° *l-e ' Jcafens me. 1 t ,i„k I 'a, , f "'■ '""' " »''»* ">»' half »»ay in the distancf , nTa h "Z^ ^ "-."r''-^' ^i.e «es in an ins.ant, l' see up „, t ^ ''*'';"';* "■'"■"'■ «l"»gs,de, the poor reefer who has fai;.; Tte ,i.h T™ i|..iii hia face. ■^'elighiiiing glares •»«->. Iftt " ' ^"^ ^ S'^e it «lippi„g off tho ccuf »|K>n tU deck. Isliout 180 THE SIXTH BEADfiS. madly, " Man overboard !" and catch the rope, when I can soo notU'mg again. The sea is too high, and the man too heavy for 010, I »hout, and shout, and shout, and feel the perspira- tion starting in great bead^ from my forehead, as the line sh'ps through my fingers. 6, l*rc»ently the captain feels his way aft, and takes hold whti ma } and the cook comes, as the coil is nearly spent, ;uid *fe poll together upon him. It is desperate work for tlio »ai'or } for the ship is drifting at a prodigious rate ; but ho elitism like a dying man. t, By-and-by, at a flash, we see him on a crest, two oars' 3c*»*gtb away from the vessel. " Hold on, my man I" shouts th^ captajJi, " For God's sake, be quick 1" says the poor fol- low J and he goes down in a trough of the sea. We pull the hat'dor, and the captain keeps calling to him to keep up cour- age, and hold strong. But, in the hush, we can hear him say, *' I can*t hold out much longer ; I'm most gone 1" 8# Ftemntly we have brought the man where we can lay hold of him, and are only waiting for a good lift of the sea to britjg him up, when the poor fellow groans out, " It's no use ; I can't, 0«>od'by I" And a wave tosse^ the end of the rope clean upon the bulwarks. At the last flash, I see him going down under tlie water. Mitchixl. 65. THE FOUNT OP SONG. WHEKE flows the fount whose living streams Are heard in every clime — Wbo»c voice hath mingled with the dreams Of far-departed time ? I§ it where Grecian fanes lie hid Among the olives dim, Or the Nile beside the pyramid, Sendtj up its ceaselesa hymn? RHETORICAL. 9. Alas I by old Castilian wave • The muses meet no more Nor breaks from Delphi's mystic cave The prophet voice of yore : -W^l^ Old Egypt's river hath forgot ^ The Theban glory gone • And the land of Homer knows him not- Yet still that fount flows on I 8. The sacred fount of song, whose source Is in the poet's soul, Though living laurels crown its courw All-jrlnrmna +^ -n,- „ i ^ , 181 ;l<-l t^V^\^A— All-glorious to the goal ; yet who can tell xohat desert part Its earliest springing nursed f As from the glacier's icy heart The mightiest rivers burst I • ^'''^^^<^e the wind that woke the lyre Was hut a blighting blast . J-^ That sear'd with more than tempest's' '«^ J.^ ., The verdure where it passed. '^^^ " Perchance the fire that seemed divine On ruined altars shone, Or glowed like that Athenian shrine, J^or deity unknown. 6. It 18 not Fame, with all her spells Could wake the spirit's springs, ' Ur call the music forth that dwells Annd its hidden strings ; For evermore, through sun and cloud. 10 the first fountain true It flows-but oh ? ye soulless crowd. It never sprang for you I el iTft-'Wl.' ,4_ ft* Ji' 'Uy tea THE SIXTH READER* 6. The wild-bird sings in forest far, Wliere foot may never be ; The eagle meets the morning star, Where none his path may see. So many a gifted heart hath kept Its treasures unrevealed,— A spring whose depth in silence slept, A fount forever sealed 1 I, Woe for the silent oracles That went with all their lore ! For the world's early wasted wells, Whose waters flow no more I Yet one remains no winter's wrath Can bind, or summer dry ; For, like our own, its onward path Is to eternity. Miss Jrowv. J>\^ W- 66. MONASTERIES. [At extract from "Institutions, Manners, and Customs of the Middle Age," by Dr Hiirter, of Switzerland, one of tlic most profound, comprehensive minds, and erudite scholars of tlie day.] ON the ancestral grave — on the spot where a nobleman had selected the place of rest for his family — on the founda- tion of the modest church out of the wooden cell of the hermit — there, where the waves had given back to the afflictet father the child they had snatched away, arose the structur wherein daily were to ascend canticles of praise to the Eternal, and thanksgiving for redemption, or, which even sometimes were to expiate the murders and crimes of a former robber's cave, or convert the accursed place of execution into an abode of blessings. to put iu force such pious reaolutions ; uay, vanity might often RHETORICAL. 1S3 be tompM to p„rcl,ase, l,v s„cl, ,l„„. r '-•'J-- Vet ,|,e „,„,e pi. „s .e„ 'T' '" f™"" "' P* •I"*, '-"m the w,«h ;■ „J° ' P"™""'l™™» of all ou,-.i„v ""■day a l.m,d,.od-f„ld ,.ew.",,r ""'■'•'■ "'«' "'""""•"S One who had l,,!, ,L d ftl " ''' '"''™''™ ''" I"""™. »tt™t by surf, foundatk s1, 1 r?™' """«"■• ^''-S'" '° m»..ncr the „„«t acceptalde '^ "' '° ""^ ^""«l"y i" a ™ of 1,0,. etc,. :, t,: r:;:,"?; "r "■"'""'•""• «« «• ' -.ffl,,, by n,ea„s„f ,„„,;; .,'"•• "•"■''"i and tl,o ba™ •«■;";;;; '"e .boino,,, sp,- •:':;";■::::::,:" '"'""' *» ^"^°- »;f ;'y a .ac,,„ee of -lIX^ ^'r^l^'-''^ "> "'« A,. aWed to inter their bodies. "'"^ ^"'i <■"- UJI>-JJ) ' HDIlTEa. 67. CHAEITr. (TIic following ]B an p^....,., . I [)UT the age of Chivalry is ^one All h • f^ -ties, systenus, habils-woar c^t I tf""ff«-kn,g-do,ns, , Edmund Burke in thtt rmhl "^ P"'"'^''^' ^o wrote ^f^-wnhi,,::::t:.^-:f;^^^^^^ ,:"- franco, degraded into mfionalisJ I.:;'^''f ' *^' "''"'* ; -- .o.an^HaHe Antoine:"^^:r : -r S 184 THE SIXTH UK \T>ER. will never be able to cleanso from its oHcutclioou the Mti.in of tliat murdeied lady's blood, "Tho ago of chivuli-y in gonc> ; that of sopijistcrs, economists, and calculators has suc- ceeded." Progress, the Juggernaut of our idolatry, criishea! under its remorseless wheels many a harmless superstition, a' kindly tradition, and gracious habit of tho past. 2. Woman asks not loyalty now-a-days. The dignified snl) mission, the tender regard for her sex and weakness, the liuin age of the heart with which every man, not wholly debas(;tl, delights to regard hev, she slights atul repudiates, and de- mands instead liberty and equality. Be it so. The world does move. War acknowledges now no truce of God, no holy. days ; and, by a '[ueer coincidence, many of the blooiliust battles of modern » imes have been fought on Sunday. Tliers is small immunity for .vine-dresser or olive-growor now, and we can fancy what short vork a foraging party would rnako of the shepherd and his flock. cI.-JIl 3. Our improved projectiles spare neither shrine nor spire; and modern reason .vvuld laugh at the superstition wliich would spare a foo If, oawse he had sought asylum by the altar or the cross. Th.o woild has moved. Eelieved of ancient restraint, war has ioyumed all its pagan ferocity, with the additional improvements in the machinery for killing which modern inventiveness has devised. A more complete disre- gard of the immemorial rights of war, of courtesy, of chivalry, of Christianity — a harder insensibility to the waste of human life have never been shown than by the armies of the civilized nations within the last twenty years. 4. Witness the sack of Kertch, an imfortified, ungarrisoned ity, in the Crimean war ; the " loot" in China ; the devilish vengeance wreaked on the Sepoys, blown into atoms from tlio cannon's mouth ; the wholesale devastation of Poland ; the atrocities inflicted on Crete to-day — these are some of the instances of superior civilization of which our nineteenth cen- tury—our golden age of knowledge and enlightenment— ex- Libits to an admiring w(»rld. Cromwell, tho merciless hero o/ RHRTORIOAL. 18ft gA^Jx *« *A. he PuMton,, has fo,„„l „„ „„,„„;„,. p,.,,,,,.^,^ as a Carlylc. ,„ „«,„„„„,„, |,i„, ^vi.c, „,,,,„ f„|| :„„,,;; done to Alano, „,„: Auib L-o ..ec,.,.,„V.,l a, .1,0 p^ r»to and benefactor »f inaukinil F piejncatot *alm„ wttl, all disasters not their own, ami lull themselveg to "-a r ""N'"" ''" ""■'-■"""» «-' "-h^tov:: ::. i™ a tea, lest «Hcl, s„fler,i,g should be the „.„„lt of error ..;:i.:;L.:::;;,Tr''''- ^-^^-.-Mfarfro™ ■ f!t"'."Lf PaT,'™tr "'' '^"'^'•*"<' "-"«-' -■"■!'"- To - d '' ifs ::;.:" "'™t '-^ p"^""""^"""- -^ whora ron„d > ,e e 'st al 1,,', °",'' 'T'", " "" ^'""'""'' ^hi. , , 7 father," aiil we are his children wh to „,e„ Uack mo„ rod ,„e„-they that dwell in the Tla c' HIS nic.ey and i.,rs,vo„es,. With us Charity is not a maitor i~s„n or calculation, or sentiment, but of dn y a"d e^ ¥on ; and to our charity no barrier can be kno^^ Tr cln rf Jr '■'' " '° " P'"'^'' '" ""^ «"='" brotherhood O'GOHMAW. ''Uil- 68. THE PERI'S SONQ. ANE morn a Peri at the -ate ^^ Of Edeu stood disconsolate ; And as she listened to the springs Of life within, like music flovvino- And aug-lifc the light upon her Through the half- wi open portal glowing, nga # \X ^^ IMAGE EVALUATiON TEST TARGET (MT-3) t // fe //^.*t^^ />>^ •■ ^"j-^ {< f/. 1.0 1^ l££ 2 m22 ■ 4£ I I.I I ■« lis L^ II U 11.6 - 6" Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) b72-4503 <^ # '^ ^V*>^^ ^... tl;o use of man. Many birds, particularly swallows and pigeons, Inuld tbeir nests in these floating isles, and enliven llicpeacoliil and poetic solitude. 3. To,vv.rds tl,„ middle of the lake one of tl.ese islumh „„ ^ .. ay took „p a fresh posilic. It ,„ovod very slowly Ujh there was a good deal of wind, a.ul large sails wer .Itac ed to the houses as well as to each corner of the i lih ;! "■'r'.f'""^' •"»■ "— '. ""I children, lent their » h a,d „s progress, l,y working at large oars; but I « cUorts d,d not seen, materially to increase the speed at wlacl, they moved. However, tl,e.« peculiar mariners dn Fobably trouble then.selves about delay, as they are su4 Slc3pmg on land, at whatever pace they may go Like 2V"'f """:"! """" """""" '"y "1*—" -hvo L e the Mongols ,n then- vast prairies, they wander at will. ..more ortuuato than these latter, they have constructed a, uselvc, a httlo solitude in the nuust of civilisation, and Try atdo. ''"' " ''°"""° '"" '" "" """"""S™ "f " «"1-.- 6. TNe.se floating islands are to bo found on all of the grea, so,ClMna,a„,., at first sight present an enehantiugr pic ta>^ of happ„,ess »ud plenty, whilst it is impossible not ,o 188 THE SIXTH READER. admire the ingenious industry of tliose Chinese, so singular iii all their proceedings. But wlien you consider tlio cuuho ot their construction, the labor and the patience necessary lot their creation by people unable to find a corner of the isolid earth on which to establish themselves, the smiling picture assumes a darker tint, and the mind endeavors vainly to pent- trate the future of a race so numerous that, the land will no longer hold it, and which has sought a resting-place on the Burface of the waters. Huo, 70. THE SKYLARK. BIRD of the wildcrne'?3, . , Blithesome and cumberless. Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea I Emblem of happiness, Blessed is thy dwelling-place, — Oh, to abide in the desert with thee I Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on tliy dewy wing. Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamers that herald the dayj Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing away I Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms. Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be I Emblem of happiness. Blest is thv dwelliiiP--nl.ipp — Oh, to abide in the desert with thee I nooa RHETORICAL. 71 REVOLUTIONISTS. 189 rniin! l"Tho tnlllUj of the re.'lcMe Dim ii„ , ■ . «'.l" ..f Carlo, I., „„., tl c ft,S rtM °"'""*' "■"■'■" """■» »'" i'O'""'- *»»"""", stamped wi.l, tl,a?8, of "'""'." "■""^''""■^ moat aiicoessfiil. '■lioug-est and 2. Tlic judges of Cliarloa I sot pvp,-v „, ■ 'liv«t tl,oi,. act of „,at fatal c , lo", andf' "° "°''' '" « Jivino jndgmont, vvl.iol, tl.oy 'u L° , .'".'"'P'"'''''"' " "« ;f»-'™;«..oysa,-d, „ad aimod it''.^ o";::: ':;:rs ;«: T-so^;it''r:r?T"°'"''''--'^'-'-'^ 1 Ills oiaoig, o' uiili his knowli.do-,. n„ , • ., osttae •■'hoiei-cspoiisibliilvoftv.nnnvairt f • ^ " ""^ '""' tL,.y domandod locko ,i " f ?f " "'I." '"T^ f'"™ « -mpicd „,.do -foot, a,,d^;':.,r;,:'':,:r ,: ,: :\L": ttr " """°"' " """'"> -'"•"" '"■» <-t„ could at: Wood-slicd If Lo kf, f 1 , ™"""'^ "■'"' °Pr™««i"n »..d »«, made' wa.^1, * o'lflfe^^ ""' '"'""'''■ «^ '-"• 1 I'- ll i , I r ti- .^f !^t i ■'",' ' '14 V^i¥^ 190 THE SIXTH READER. 4. Who is ig'norant that at the very momfnt when he had decided on war, it was preparing- against him, in anhr to force him, after so. many concessions, to abandon wliatoviT yet remained of his power and prerogatives— tlie last rem. nants of the legal government of tlie conntry? And mw when the king was conquered, lie was judged, he was con- cl(!mned without law, contrary to all laws, for acts wliieii no law had over foreseen, or qualified as crimes, which the con- science neither of the king nor of the people had ever drciimed of considering as falling under the jurisdiction of men, or of being punishable at their hands. 5. How would every soul have swelled with indignation had the obscurest citizen been treated in this maiuior, and been put to death for crimes defined by an ex post facto hw and by pretended judges, yesterday his enemies, to-day Lis rivals, to-morrow his heirs 1 And what would not have bucn attempted against the least of Englishmen, was perpetrated on the King of England, on the head of the English Ciiurch as well as tlie State, on the representative and the symbol of all authority, order, law, justice, of all that in human society borders on the limit, and awakens the idea of the Divine attributes 1 ^uizot. 73. THE AZTEC EMPIRE. [Some of the lioriible abominations prevalent amonjf the Aztecs, at the time of the conquest of Mexico by Cortez, are here gniphically described by Prescott.] rpHE amount of victims immolated on its accursed altars l^«iiv» X vvould stagger the faith of the least scrupulous believer. Scarcely any author pretends to estimate the yearly sacrifice throughout the empire at less than twenty thousand, and some carry the number as high as fifty. On great occasions, as the coronation of a king, or the consecration of a toniple, the num- ber becomes still more appalling. At the dedication of tlio great temple Huiiiiilopotciili, in 1486, the prisoners wlio, for BniSTORICAI,. t^l OTne yea,-,, had been reserved f,,,- „,„ p„,p„,„_ ,,,.,.„ ^ r.™ al: ,„ar,o™ of the cupitul. Tl„.y „ero ,a ,-„d in Z c.^u,„„d „evo,-al days, and seventy th„n.,a„d capt ves aT ^^ (0 .avo penrted at the shrine of tl,i, ternhie deity ^. Une lact iway be consitlorod coi-t'^iin Tf rx;^.;^'^ ;;:''----" •>X~:f -.■o.and^t,d:;:ij;:r: 7z:i:ir":""''^r rr;„!::™:re?:-j::--''^"-"^ .Je Spaniards -epeatedly owed tit ol p': ::,Z'"\^"™ M.„t«j,„na was asked why he had .nnSt^ ;,hL':'; ac to,„a„„a,„ h„ independenec on his b„,-do s he re X":: =;^"::;.rr::i:r;-r'r ^n I'viiivw; .. 9 IT , "•"'loiii, iiimioi 1/ work oP c. .lualu.n? How the interests of laununity be cousM where a man is lowered to the rank of t h. i , .1 ' The influence of the A.tees i^t < t d dr"o " '"■'■^'' -0; in the sa.„ „,a„„er as 1 td": iaTlts'tftht 4. Men became familiar with scenes nf >>m..^.. i x, ,,V|,, ;,"",'' ' "'" ""'"■""■'' "'^'■" "'"de furoeions. H,e feehin 193 l■i^^ THE SIXTH READER. ing fainter and fainter, as thonsands and tliousandR of miser- able victims, throujifh tin; empire, were yearly fattened in its caj^es, sacrinced on its altars, dressed and served at its ban- quets. Tlie whole land was converted into a vast buiiiiiu J(^\*cli ,li • shamble. The (Mnpire of the Aztecs did not fall before its tiiiu;. Pbescott. 7;}. TFIE VALLEY OF MEXICO. [Tlic aniiiils of l.istoiy record few felits of greater daring and bravcrj- than those by which ii handful of Spaniards, led ou by the noble Cortez, subdued an immense eniiiire, and placed the banner of Caatilo on the loftiest pin- naclu, Tenochtltlau.] THEY had not advanced far, when, turning an angle of the Sierra, they suddenly came upon a view which more than compensated for the toils of the preceding day. It was tiio Valley of Mexico, or Tcnochtitlan, as more commonly called by the natives, which, with its picturesque assembly of wat(;r, woodland, and cultivated plains, its shining cities and shadowy hills, was spread out like some gay and gorgeous panorama before them. In the highly rarefied atmosphere of these upper regions, even remote objects have a brilliancy of coloring, and a distinctness of outline, which seems to annihilate distance. 2. Stretching far away at their feet, were seen noble foresta of oak, sycamore, and cedar, and far beyond yellow fields of maize and the towering maguey, intermingled with orchards and blooming gardens ; for Howers, in such demand for their religious festivals, were even more abundant in this populous valley than in other parts of Anahuac. 8, In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes, occupying then a much larger portion of its surface than at "aj.^ present; their borders thickly studded with towns and ham- lets ; and in the midst, like sonit; Indian empress, with iier coronal of pearls, the fair city of Mexico, with her white towers and pyramidal temples, reposing, as it were, ou the bosom ol the waters, the far-famed Venice of the Aztecs. RHETORICAL. 193 4. High over all rose the roval hill nf Pha«. u 2;f:r:e7rz'/'';:''tr f : '-' ^'-^ ''-" '™™ .atore of tl,c lake -,• 1 ""••/,''"'"'=''- boy""-! the bl„. her jewels. r««^-^ uevisert lor the fairest o. Pbesoott. .I'-'HA. 74, WHAT IS POETBT? -i. o,a„, a„/e4 :;^-, ^Z^^^T'I^^ and m the thoughts of e-lf.rvfV.of ^u - . ^ years, of Paradise ^ ^ ^ '^^'" '"' «P'"^« *° the gates cadence is heard in the thnnr^n,. o ^ xv. ' "^ ■It",; :i\r""*; »» *•• •-" '— .,- ui uui, not a breeze calhne' frorv ta Ki„« „ • xl , tte birds of the summer valleyf „r a Idil .^ 1°"' *" ;8ht raina it. low a„d n,oumM rgYl^v'Mr^ ."* «»wer, of spring. „„t a cloud bathiTitelif , L ^'"'^'"f insr in thf vpIIo— o+^ r u^ . '''^'"ff"'. not a rock g-low. l>nu lU THE SIXTH READER. of being. The earth and heavens are quickened by its spirit; y^ and the heavings of the great deep, in tempest and in calm, Y^ ar« but its secret and mysterious breatliings. G. W. Pkkntioe 16. OCR NEIGHBOR. I ^ .1'. ^AVl SET it down gently at the altar rail, The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet; Long have we seen that pious face so pale Bowed meekly at her Saviour's blessed feet. 2. These many years, her heart was hidden where i- Nor moth, nor rust, nor craft of man could harm ; The blue eyes, eeldom lifted, save in prayer. Beamed with her wished-for heaven's celestial calm 'V^' .o- 3 As innocent as childhood's was the face, Though sorrow oft had touched that tender heart; Each trouble cameras winged by special grace. And resignation saved the wound from smart. 4. On bead and crucifix her fingers- kept. Until the last, their fond, accustomed hold ; " My Jesus," breallied the lips ; the raised eyes slept, The placid brow, the gentle hand, grew cold. 6. The choicely ripening clui^ter, Imgering late Into October on its shrivelldtt vine, K^'^*^. w><^ Wins mellow juices, which in patience wait Upon those long, long days of deep sunshine. 6. Then set it gently at the altar rail. The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet; How can we hope, if such as shOjCan fail Before the eternal God's high judgmeat-soat ? S. A. STAB& KHETOmcAL. 195 76. THE ANCJELUS 2. Tlio professor pauses ir bilT ! "" '" '""y"'- " of l"-a Cass, iea'd: e :a^t: ^V"'''' ""^""""^ "' *» k«t,cugaffed in cheerful ta^ 1,1 T^'"'"' '^'"' ''"'» m»ro pieasautly in the verses of Z, ^"™' ""'' ''°"""«' «vcr. the sport and plav of I .. ""*"'"= P-'-^-^'- Nay. '.P-eMo^veafe/J Lntsrl""' "'"""^ ^'^ '"'- 3. Well n,ight the Ange" u" I H h '"'""" "'°"«''"- evonin,, n,or„. and neonf I ", ^ , "V"-;'"!^ "P- ". "At annunciation." For this i„ 7, , u ' ''°'' «'™ "° ""g^Ho e«' ^«y; and in ^^nh r^ u" frils\°;t "' ''V'^'^^^^^'' Pitcre, of the civil. With firlf 7 ° *'''*"'''° "»'"'»• away from „s, and the new Z t^VI ''" "'" ■'"^ *° ^''P •;e "feM,» upon „„r Zj^^ i,:' ■:;r\^ ""-^f '» skoals walk, and when natme 7, j^' " ''°"'' "he" .*lly personates dea"h. ' "'" '""^ "'""" °». ««'«' .i^rththlen'^ofn-Mrrr " «™<' <"■*'■•«" -uld »i's close approaches w h 'm"'"' ."'""'■ »"™''-^d in hue, »«wevcr fautastically flfattf V'?"' "'"""''O '='"'?-'«. |^«d prayer, and a eheTr ? "! "'^ » """"I, with whis. "»t when gl'intas „:: p?ea7:ra ■ ""u "" "°"''°'' H has ris«n to the ,Jit?,,., I •'"'"' *''°"S:'' ""^^n, *". »o the festival ''d:rlVrar Z "f "'"' ^^^«''' iOUJ'**!, V\wvrUAVWv, 106 THfl SIXTH READER. greet, with the natural, tho spiritual Sun, the Day-spring frnnj on liigh that rose on beniglited man, and chased away tho darkness and tho shadow of deatli wherein he sate. 5. Who does not see and feel the clear analogy? And who will neglect, if it bo brought tlnia to his memory, to shield himself behind the ample measure of this grace, against " the arrow flying in the day," in its sharp and well-aimed teinptu- tionsT At these eventful periods will the Angclus bell cull out to us aloud, and make the joyful Annunciation, speaking in angel's words and angel's tones, to the gladsome, to tho anxious, and to the weary heart ; gladsome at morn, anxious at noon, weary at eve. 6. Truly it was a heavenly thought that suggested tho U>^v... appointment of both time and thing. For what can chime so well with the first of those feelings and its season, as the glorious news that " the Lord's angel" hath brought to earth such tidings as his ? What can suit the second better than to speak resignation in Mary's words : " Behold thy servant, or handmaid,"—" Be it done unto me according to Thy word ?" What can refresh the third, and cast forward bright rays into the gloom of approaching night, more than the thought that God's own Eternal Word dwelleth ever amongst us, our com- fo.'ter and help? Cardinal Wibbmau. 77. SONG OF THE SHIRT. (An able critic says of this song, that its great merit Is Its truthfuluess. The cracked, tuneless voice, trembUug under ita burden of sorrows, now shrunk down into the whispers of weakness, and now shuddering up into the laughter of despair. In the centre of this true tragedy its author has, mih a . u -K ikllful and sparing hand, dropped a pun or two and conceit or two, and these U.V '.^•♦W , ^^^^^ ^^^ precisely what make you quake-" every tear hinders needle and tiir^ " He knew that, to deepen the deepest woe of humanity, It is the best way to show it in the lurid light of mirth ; that there is a sorrow too deep for tcars-too deep for slghs-but none too deep for smiles, and that tho xdde oj and laughter of an idiot might accompany and servo to aggravate the mgm ttf a god.] ITH fingers weary and worn. With eyelids heavy and red, 1/ w BHBTORICAL. A woman fiat, in unwomanly ra^H %n.g her needle and tuL.T St.tchI stitch I HtitchI , ^ And 8t,ll. w.th a voice of dolu oua pitch. She sang the "Song of the Shlrtr^- «. Work ! work I work I Along with tt,e barbarous Turk ^i this ]8 Christian work I 8. Work-work-work- Till the brain bee-ins f,. = • . W«rk-„„rk_„„4^'"' " ' „"• "»<' ffMsel, and band - , Baud, and gusaet, and JL,"' «e^ tnem on jn a dream I *• ^^^^ '''''' ^'th sisters dear ! Oh I men. with mothers and wives I It >8 not Imen you're wearing, ou But human creatures^ lives^l ' btitch-stitch-stitch In poverty, hunger, and dirt f Sewing at once a double thread- '^ A shroud as well as a shirt, r.^ ,, «• "-^J^hy do I talk of Death That Thantom of grisly bJnef mk 1B7 I •: '^y* » tfif 1 198 THE SIXTH BEADER. I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own 1 — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep : God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap I ^_flU.^.n>" Work — work — work I My labor never flags ; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, A crust of bread,— and rags,— That shatter'd roof— and this nahed floor — A table — a broken chair — And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there 1 l»vv;- t-^)-.\\:- *l. Work— work— work 1 From weary chime to chime ! Work — work — work, A prisoner's work for crime 1 Band, and gusset, and seam. Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd, As well as the weary hand. 8. Work— work— work 1 lu the dull December light, And work — work — work, When the weather is warm and bright: While underneath the eaves iui>«^'jv \vJ^ The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, And ^Vwji me with the Spring. ^^'•^■'■. 9. Oh 1 but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose gweet, RHETORICAL. With the 8ky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet : For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of 'want, And the walk that costs a meal I 10. Oh I but for one short hour I A respite, however brief I No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, But only time for Grief I A little weeping would ease my heart- But in their _briny bed ^._ j^ ' My tears must stop, for every drop Hmders needle and thread I 199 11 . With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread ;— Stitch! stitch I etitch I In poverty, hunger, and dirt And still with a voice of dolorous pitch- Would that its tone could reach the rich I- She sang this " Song of the Shirt." Hooa TO. THE PRESS. rpHE Press was inaugurated by the publication of the Bible; ^ It has descended to the language of Billingsgate ; thus rrr' ;?' r''^' '^^^ ^^^^^^ "P- thelmple , and ha strayed to the tavern and to the house of iniquity. Bui ' a^thevuest poets have not been able to tarnish the Lv ol ' Homer, ur V.rg.1, and of Tasso, and as the discordant' sounds of a wretched musical instrument detract nothing from the *^*NM« 30U THE SIXTH READEB. \>' magic notes of Mozart and Rossini ; as the prodigies of Michael Augelo and of Raphael are in nowise impaired by the ridiculous imitations of _ sign-b oard painters, so the Press should lose nothing of its value on account of the follies and excesses wherein it has been rendered an accomplice. 2. Let us never confound abuse with use ; if it were neces- ary to destroy the latter to restrain the former, but little would remain to us on the face of the earth. What is it that man does not abuse ? He abuses his intellect, his will, all the fac- ulties of his soul, his senses, his body, his fortune, his reputa" tion, his relations with other men ; all, in fact, that is under hia control. There is no evil to which the abuse of good may not lead ; to bury a sword in an innocent heart is to abuse the instrument and the hand ; it is to turn from their object two valuable agents which Heaven has allowed us to provide for our happiness. 3. The influence of the Press has extended over all branches of human learning ; it has acted in extremes the most remote from each other ; there is no point which has not felt its irre- sistible power. Religion, society, politics, science, literature, and the fine arts, have all experienced the effects of this won- derful invention. It has everywhere acquired titles to grati- tude, and everywhere it has left subjects of recrimination and complaint. 4. But from the very fact that the new agent was of uni- versal application, it followed that we might always expect to find evil along with the good. The same sun that enlightens, fertilizes, and embellishes the earth, sometimes burns up our fields, poisons the marshes, and lets loose the pestilential vapors .1^^ which scatter broadcast desolation and death. 5. If religion has many evils to deplore, it has new triumphs- to engrave upon its annals ; if it is true that the Press has greatly favored the diffusion of error, it is not the less true that, with its aid, religious knowledge has elevated itself to an extent that could scarcely have been reached without this dis- covery. The Press has doubtless contributed to pTepare oni RHETOBICAL. 201 epoch for skepticism and incredulity ; but the very contradic- tions which have sprung up against the faith have shown more and more the solidity of its foundations, and have placed at its service a^trgasup of learning and science, which probably it would never have- possessed but for this powerful vehicle Balhez. of human thought n m ',.1« 79. RUINS OP COPAN AND PALENQUE. [These ruins exist in tJie interior of Guatemala, in Central America.] TTTE returned to the base of the pyramidal structure, and ** ascended by re^lar stone steps, in some places forced apart by bushes and saplings, and in others thrown down by the growth of large trees, while some remained entire. In parts they were ornamented with sculptured figures and rows of death's-heads. Climbing over the ruined top, we reached a^''"*^ terrace overgrown with trees, and, crossing it, descended by stone steps into an area so covered with trees, that at first we could not make out its form, but which, on clearing the way with the machete, we ascertained to be a square, and with steps on all sides almost as perfect as those of the Roman amphitheatre. 2. The steps were ornamented with sculpture, and on the south side, about half-way up, forced out of its place by roots, was a colossal head, evidently a portrait. We ascended these steps, and reached a broad terrace a hundred feet high, over- looking the river, and supported by the wall which we had seen from the opposite bank. The whole terrace was covered with trees, and, even at this height from the ground, were two gigantic cibas, or wild cotton-trees of India, above twenty feet in circumference, extending their half-naked roots fifty or a hundred feet around, binding down the ruins, and shading them with tlieir wido-spreading branches. 3. Wu sat down on the very edge of the wall, and strove in vuiu to penetrate the mystery by which we were surrounded. 9* ^02 THE SIXTH READER. Kl l\ Who were the people that built this city ? In che ruined cities of Egypt, even in the, long-lost Petra, the stranger knowH the Btory of the people whose vestiges are around him. Amc'rica, say historians, was peopled by savages ; but savages never reared' these structures, savages never carved these stones. Wt asked the Indians who made them, and their dull answer was, " Quien sabe ?" " Who knows?" 4. There were no associations connected with the place, none of those stirring recollections which hallow Rome, Athens, and *' The world's great mistress on the Egyptian plain j" but architecture, sculpture, and p&^ting^ all the arts which embellish life, had flourished in this overgrown f/^rest ; orators, warriors, and statesmen, beauty, ambition, and glory, had lived and passed away, and none knew that such things had been, or could tell of their past existence. Books, the records of knowledge, are silent on this theme. -' • 5. The city was desolate. It lay before us like a shattered bark in the midst of the ocean, her masts gone, her name eflFaced, her crew perished, and none to tell whence she came, " to whom she belonged, how long on her voyage, or what caused her destruction ; her lost people to be traced only by some fancied resemblance in the construction of the vessel, and, perhaps, rever to be known at all. The place where wo sat, was it a citadel from which an unknown people had sounded the trumpet of war ? or a temple for the worship of the God of peace ? or did the inhabitants worship the idols made with their own hands, and offer sacrifices on the stones before tlierri? 6. All was mystery— dark, impenetrable mystery ; and every circumstance increased it. In Egypt, the colossal skeletons of gigantic temples stand in the unwatered sands in all the .^-' nakedness of desolation ; here an immense forest shrouded the ^^ ruins, hiding tliem from sight, heightening the impression un wtM-e the remains of cultivated, polished, and peculiar people, who had passed through all the stages incident to the rise and fall of nations ; reached their golden age, and per- iflhcd, entirely unknown. The links which connected them with the human famil> were severed and lost; and these were the only memorials of their footsteps upon earth. We lived in th ruined palace of their kings ; we went up to ^- eir desolat temples and fallen aitars ; and, wherever we moved, we saw the evidences of their taste, their skill in arts, their wealth and power. 8. In the midst of desolation and ruin, we looked back to the past, cleared away the gloomy forest, and fancied every build- ing perfect, with its terraces and pyramids, its sculptured and pointed ornaments, grand, lofty, and imposing, and overlook- ing an imm^ense inhabited plain. We called back into life the strange people who gazed at us in sadness from the walls ; pictured them in fanciful costumes and adorned with plumes of feathers, ascending the terraces of the palace, and the steps leadmg to the temples, and often we imagined a scene of unique and gorgeous beauty and magnificence. 9. In the romance of the world's history, nothing ever im- pressed me more forcibly than the spectacle of this great and lovely city, overturned, desolate, and lost ; discovered by acci- dent, overgrown with trees for miles around, and without even a name to distinguish it. Apart from every thing else, it was 8 mourning witness to the world's mutations. SiEPHwa 80. THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. rpHE Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light, ^'^/^ct -*• And wheels her track in a joyous flight • I know her track through the balmy air, By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there; She leaves the tops of the mountains green, And gems the valley with crystal sheen. \^UK 204 THE SIXTH READEB. ir' ^ lA 0^' 3, At room I know where she rested at night, For the roses are gushing with dewy light; -toiAJi^-. Then she mounts again, and round her flings A shower of light from her crimson wings ; Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high, That silently fills it with ecstasy. , 3. At noon she hies to a cool retreat, Where bowering elms over waters meet; j,'-.:' ^^ She dimples the wave where the green leaves dip, As it srailicgly curls like a maiden's lip, ^.v • . When her tremulous bosom would hide, in vain, From her lover, the hope that she loves again. 4. At eve^she hangs o'er the western sky, , Dark clouds for a glorious canopy, And round the skirts of their deepen'd fold |^v -U She paints a border of purple and gold, Where the lingering sunbeams love to stay, When their god in his glory has passed away. /%o.>-^..- She hovers round us at twilight hour, f^ When her presence is felt with the deepest power ) She silvers the landscape and crowds the stream With shadows that flit like a fairy dream ; Then wheeling her flight through the gladdened air. The Spirit of Beauty is everywhere. Dawu 81. MAN'S POSITION IN CREATION. THE first feature to be noticed in the condition of this creature, man, is his want of power. Not only is his health uncertain, but at his best estate his strength is very small. Brute matter resists him passively. He cannot lift great weights of it, nor dig deep into it. Even with the help Rhetorical. 205 of the most ingenious machinery and the united labor of mul- titudcs he can do little but scratch the surface of the planet, ...^^^ without being able to alter the expression of one of its linea- mcntfl. Fire and water are both his masters. His prosperity is at the mercy of the weather, ir 2 Matter is baffling and ruining him .somewhere on the farih,at all hours of day and night. He has to struggle con- tinually to maintain his position, and then maintains it with exceeding difficulty. Considering how many thousands Ox years the race of man has inhabited the world, it is sur. prising how little control he has acquired over diseases, how^ little he knows of them, how much less he can do to alleviate them. Even in his arts and sciences there are strangely few things which he can reduce to certainty. 3. His knowledge is extremely limited, and is liable to the most humiliating errors and the most unexpected mistakes. He is in comparative ignorance of himself, of his thinking principle, of the processes of his immaterial soul, of the laws of its various faculties, or of the combinations of mind and matter. Metaphysics, which should rank next to religion in the scale of sciences, are a proverb for confusion and ob- scurity. Infinite longings, perpetually checked by a sense of feebleness, and circumscribed within the limits of a narrow prison,— this is a description of the highest and most aspiring moods of man. ' Vvt^^^-t ) 4. Such is the condition of our man^if we look at him in hia solitary dignity as lord of the creation. But even this is too favorable a representation of him. His solitary dignity is » mere imagination. On the contrary, he is completely mixed op with the crowd of inferior creatures, and in numberless ways dependent upon them. If left to himself, the ponderous earth is simply useless to him. Its maternal bosom contains supplies of minerals dnd gases, which are meant for the dai y sustaining of human life. Without them this man would die m torture in a few days ; and yet by no chemistry can he get hold of them himself and make them into food. 900 THE SIXTH READER. 5. He is simply dependent upon plants. They alone can make the earth nutritious to him, whether directly as food themselves, or indirectly by their support of animal life. And they do this by a multitude of hidden processes, many of which, perhaps the majority, are beyond the explanation uf Jbuman chemistry. Thus he is at the mercy of the vegetable world. The grass that tops his grave, which fed him in his life, now feeds on him in turn. 6. In like manner is he dependent upon the inferior animals. Some give him strength to work with, some warm materials to clothe himself with, some their flesh to eat or their milk to drin).' A vast proportion of mankind have to spend their timo, their skill, their wealth, in waiting upon horses and cowB and camels, as if they were their servants, building houses for them, supplying them with food, making their Wvtv^'u beds, washing and tending them as if they were children, and studying their comforts. 7. More than half the men in the world are perhaps en- grossed in this occupation at the present moment. Human families would break up, if the domestic animals ceased to be r-jembers of them. Then, as to the insect world, it gives us a sort of nervous trepidation to contemplate it. The num- bers of insects, and their powers, are so terrific, so absolutely irresistible, that they could sweep every living thing from the earth and devour us all within a week, as if they were the fiery breath of a destroying angel, (^u.- ^'^^ ,,^.1^ 8. We can hardly tell what holds , the lightning-like speed pA^tJ^iii their prolific generations in check. Birds of prey, intestine war, man's active hostility,— these, calculated at their highest, Boem inadequate to keep down the insect population, whose numbers and powers of annoyance yearly threaten to thrust us off our own planet. It is God Himself who puts an invisi- ble bridle upon these countless and irresistible legions, which otherwise would lick us up like thirsty fire. Fabbs. BHETORICAL. 207 82. THE ACADIANS. rpHEY were Bretons onVinallv ff.o=„ a j- went to battle with the 'saciod Heart „/« u "" broidercd, ap„„ their brp^tJ .t ■ '^' *■>'"= «">• wi.did .■oe-hourit: 7^%:;:'^^ ""d- ':k"'" deserts blossom ; the valleys of thT\ , ^ f" "'"'^ .^vept land stood thick Jh lil\ °''. '"'' '"^'"'^ ^- Leadof h„r„ed cattle soon ^ L^d 1 ThT ' 7'' """''""■ .heir careful a„d industrious to'ds '"""'™' ""*"* "-^ '^-* woa.en, clothed the Acadii Z^T^ZTZ, "'"" "'""^ '"^ .We to provide for its own wants o th.ft he '' "'' """' anJ little barter. The blessin!; „f ^"'^ "" P^-'.-W- lisl.tcdupo„«,3i,,a„dtheyirmte '"'" Z""' '""' "<" -* Of gold anJ Silver ^^htb t r/oslrd '""o;^^ ?"! J. clear of the court of Justice.as thi/didln^ tr^^! 4":i^'t:e:trrxrt%:V''-«'''--- .cts, recorded their wills kept thl^'in f . 7- "'™ P""'" M, consecrated their liv™ bv Sa" -'"' "" '""' "' -IS devotion to M::;Trcre"™'5is'ti:;r'jr''r .ow. a,, benevolence anti^i^ted thTZanZf" prit" ,wh'o„ th;ti::;Td'be ; dtLZed"" '\f°''i ^-^ '-''^• I fy ^uilt the young coup,: a htuT „™; *;: :'V»7"- 't, applied them with life's necessa, es ft,r a L„, ''"'':,'''"'" We them Ged-soeed. Th. „„„..!.:'' *''.°'™™'"1' speed. The population nnmber od eighteen 208 THE SIXTH READER. jjTvdA^yi- lliuiisaiid 8onl8. And when their sun was at it« seronest the i;toriii came down. 5. In 1162 this charge was brought against tliem : "tlut the Council wore fully convinced of their strict attachment t.» tlie French king, and their readiness at all times^to take piiii with and assist him." This was the cloud, and from it tlu ightning soon fell. In the Octavo of Our Lady's Sovei borrows, September It, they stood upon the shore surrounded with bayonets which were to drive them, if resisting, into tli ; vessels prepared for their deportation. Their houses, churches, barns, and mills, had been given to the flames -two hnndn 1 and fifty-three of these burning at once in a single settlement, five hundred lying in ashes in another. Some fled and per- ished in the woods, some made good their escape, most of them submitted to the force employed. 6. Back from the cold beach about a mile^stood the Church of Our Lady of Acadie. There they gathered for the last time, while Father Reynal offered the Holy Mysteries for them Then they marched slowly out, weeping, telling their beads chanting the Litanies of the Blessed Virgin, singing hynina to her eternal Son and her. All the way from that chapel to the shore^the mourning procession passed through the kneeling ranks of their wild weeping mothers and wives, of their sisters and little children ; and when the men had passed, these rose and followed to the ships. And so, driven aboard, thoy passed away over the strange seas, in that Octave of Our Lady of Sorrows. t. The sun went down. Such of the poor women as were left found shelter where they could for themselves and their •hildren, and the provincial soldiery stood in their ranks npoa the sands, alone in a once beautiful and fertile country, " with- out a foe to subdue, or a population to protect. But the volumes of smoke," says the Protestant historian, " which the half-expiring embers emitted, while they marked the site of the peasant's cottage, bore testimony to the extent of th« work of destruction. Yjv several successive evenings the BHETORIOAL. 209 ca lo gathered ro„,Kl the smoking ruins, as if in expectation of the return of their masters, and all night long the faithful watchdog^ howled over the scene of desolation, and mourned a ike he hand that had fed and the house that had sheltered them." 8 All these sad victims were sown, like wild-flower seeds. hy clmnce as it were, all along the North .American coast .rom Mame to Louisiana. No regard was paid to family ties • aughtors were separated from iheir mothers, wives from hus^ bands, and little children from their families. X. D. MacLeod. 88. THE TTROLESE. IThe Tyroleso from their Alpine heighta are represented m, retnmlDff fhi. proud answer to the Insulting demands of unconditional sJend™ t^ ^J rpHE land we, from our fathers, had in trust, •^ And to our children will transmit, or die; This is our maxim, this our piety. And God and Nature say that it is just: That which we would perform in arm8,we must/ We read the dictate in the infant's eye, In the wife's smile ; and in the placid s'ky, And at our feet, amid the silent dust Of them that were before us. Sing aloud Old songs— the precious music of the heart I Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wiad While we go forth, a self-devoted crowd, With weapons in the fearless hand, to assert Our virtue, and to vindicate mankind. WosDawoursu tio T8V BIXl\d BBADER. 84. TO Till ttY OF THOSE WHO FELL IN THE REBEL LION OF 1745. [Tlicse stanzas are fuU ot 1^9 most delicate and oxqulsltt magory am' duep pathos.] HOW sleep the brave who sink to rest < With all their country's wishes bless'd I When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, R(!turn8 to deck their hallowed mould, u> •'^•«>v*v She there shall dress a sweeter sod J*^**^ Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 2. By fairy hands theii knell is rung, , By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, ''^0 bless the turf that wraps their clay j And Freedom shall a while repair To dwell, a weeping hermit there. 'jv>m«. ^4c There he bleials his keen shriok,with the roar of the flood, And the many-voiced sounds of tlie bluwt-Hmitten wood ; C)-;^«.' 8. Froin the fu's lofty Htmimit, where morn Ijangs its wreath, io^ft^ He views the mad water's white writiiing beneath : ' »■ On a limb of that moss-bearded homlock far down, >^. With bright azure mantle and gaj mottled crown, The kingfisher watches, wliile o'er him his foe. The fierce hawk, sails circling, each moment more low ; ^^>^k Now poised are thote pinions and pointed that beak, His dread swoop w i "ily, when hark ! with a shriek 4. His eyeballs red biasing, high bristling his crest. His snake-like neck arch'd, talons drawn to his breast, With the rush of the wind-gust, the glancing of light, The Gray Forest Eagle shoots down in his flight ; One blow of those talons, one plunge of that neck. The strong hawk hangs lifeless, a blood-dripping wreck ; And as dives the free kingfisher, dart-like on high tJUu<>- With his prey soars the eagle, aud melts in the sky. **♦♦•*♦♦« 5. Time whirls round his circle, his years roll away, But the Gray Forest Eagle minds little his sway ; The child spurns its buds^for youth's thorn-hidden bloom, Seeks manhood's bright phantoms, finds age and a tonjb ; But the eagle's eye dims not, his wing is unbowed, )*fi^vv.a. Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud I The green tiny pine shrub points up from the moss, ♦va.:*. The wren's foot would cover it, tripping across ; 'K.*Jt;.t 5. Jit! Iv'coh.iut down Iropping would crush it beneath, I'.iif. ' ■„ " -.rm'd wi •; leaven's sunshine and fann'd by ita 'V**-^ Lieatn ; The seasons fly past it, its head is on high, Its thick branches challenge each mood of the sky ; On its rough bark the moss a green mantle creates, And the deer from his antlers the velvet down grates : iiiTtO witiicrs its rooiS, it liits sadiy in uxr A trunk dry and wasted, a top jagged and bare, 213 THE SIXTH READER. ' V^ V*V V ,h^^ *l. Till it rocks in the soft breeze, and crashes to earth, Its brown fragments strewing the place of its birth. The eagle has seen it up-struggling to sight, He has seen it defying the storm in its mio;ht, Then prostrate, soil-blended, with plants sprouting o'er. But the Gray Forest Eagle is still as of yore. ^^'^. His flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd,"^ Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud I 8. He has seen from his eyrie the forest below, « '«"•<' ' "^t- Man may beoomf Zf re;;" ^„"S-" --^ the WT «ays stands erect. Above all „!,. '" ""f"- ""s image al- , « lost her ; when o.r 1 ft is allad """', "' ""'''"' ^'""^ '-ending sun casts th Wthrd\°V ' '"''""■ "'«' "'» »re us, we seem to see n Wbl . 7 °' ""•■ P^^' 0^^' « pure light, which yelrs e lb," 1. '" ^^° °""""''' «W,-aw i, f,„m ,3 . and ™ der t e !b '" "T""'"' "' "■^^■ •Iways fresh and f„ll'„f y„„th ' * i:*";™ °' " "^embrance «» out, "My mother I ^AbZ t ' '" '" '""'=' ""'"''"'^ *i. thought the heart seems' to fi'„d " "^ °'°""=' '" ^i"' «t secret souvenirs, hidd" neA "rP"'""' y°"">. Our li~te friends, prese ve a cl T'- ''°"' ''''''° our most in. -Itipliod as our'dlyl -Lreasr " ^""^'""'^ -" •««-X^»r:mp:ab'irr""-"''"™ ^"--^o *» "■' ... iife-strong and viCous' °'T'""^ "" "" *»= "-"•'» ' ■« Ah, genlmen,itts be ;„::;:?« '■" *^ "^^^ ""«' «•' »U..d lively expression o a sometj " "" '°°^' ""'"■ *d, we ca,. find none similar Th"^ '",""■■ '"""> '"■• ^;.™e it here-because it U tp„, rHb '"^' """"' "" h--foritasen.m„reT;;^::;'^;^^^^^^^ J ore 211 THE SIXTH BEADER. sacred, than that which our subject imposes upon it ; — this something, whence comes this word, Mother — the perfunia which embalms it — is Love. 4. On this earth the mother is the sweetest personification of love ; her face bears the most beautiful smile of love, be- cause her heart guards its richest treasure. The maternal leart is the birth-place of the love which forms the foundation of our life. Pebh Fblix ^''^- l^^ m .<'- . V 87. THE EXTRA TRAIN. AT a quiet country station, where flowers climbing be- neath the windows, hanging their heads languidly in the summer's heat — where, during the intervals of business, a warm repose reigns over the place — in a small room opening from the sunny platform, a telegraph lad sits before his idle instrument. He has so little to do that, to keep him- self from dozing in the sultry stillness, he is playing at mar- bles — superior marbles, a new purchase, and their click, as he gives many a well directed aim, is the only sound on the air. 2. But hark I another sound comes from the distance, a shrill, faint whistle, and a hum, swelling into a continuous, increasing roar. A train is coming. Well, let it come. It is an extra train, and it don't stop here ; it may bang away. And bang away it does, with a wild scream, shaking the windows and platform of the station as it rattles through, and making the marbles dance out of their scientific positions, The lad pauses, to watch, through the open door, the flitting carriages and white-glancing faces of the passengers, and thei resumes his game. 3. Again there is silence, until, after a warning gurgled from its deep throat, the clock strikes — Three. He glances listlessly up ; thiiu, as if the fingers were pointed with a Btern and solemn warning, suddenly utters a dreadful cry, RHETORICAL. 215 •tu Md with both arras flung up, rushes, like a little maniao| out on the platform. The station-master, coming leisurely down a side-path, sees him, and runs forward. " I didn't signal— I didn't signal, and the up-train is just due 1" cries tlie boy. ^,^ ,^ 4. "My Godl" The man fairly staggers, appalled by the rightful peril. If the up-train is punctual to its time, and m left the next station, where, according to some late' agreement, it ought to have been detained until this train (run on for some casual purpose) had passed, they must in- evitably meet, and a catastrophe ensue. There was a tunnel- on the line. May God be merciful this day I 5. The alarm is quicki:, raised, and officials start from vari- ous corners. Now the sigiials work with frantic speed. After a breathless pause, the needle quivers with the response-the ' up-train has passed the next station, and is on its way, uncon- scious of danger; so clearly there is nothing to do but prepare for the worst. 6. Men, with grave faces, hurry down the Ifne. A surgeon, and then another, appears on the scene; the few inhabitants of the neighborhood, suspending every employment, gather with straining eyes, on the little bridge which spans the rails ; and all this time the poor negligent lad, kicked indignantly by a dozen feet, stands shivering and crying on the plat- form. * * * * * I "Well, we had not that to bear in my young days," said Father Lawrence, as the train, after tearing, with a desperate shnek, mto subterraneous gloom, and rattling, quivering, in darkness, relieved only by an occasional gleam of light from p an occasional crevice overhead, at length emerged into the i fair sunshine, and triumphantly screamed to the fields which it cast behind it. 8. The old gentleman laughs, though rather nervouslv r fnr luough on the line pretty often, he can never get quite ised to tbis way of travelling, never overcome a honor of those 216 THE SIXTH READER. JWNW. \ underground passages, Selwyn, also, feels a strange uneaii. ness creeping over him, and, to escape it, shows a willingnesji to converse. There is more good-will between them that motiicnt than there has been during their two hours' unbroken iourney. 9. "We had a ver3' different way of travelling in tliom; days," resumed tlie priest. "It was safety versus speed then; but the saying is reversed by this generation. It is altogether too clever for a loiterer like me." (-a^ J> s 10. Selwyn replied, "What, do you regret the good old nigh- flier so long? His neck is broken, and will never be set again, depend upon it. But I also must own a sneaking attachment to him, for the sake of old times. To a gay young dog as I was, there was something pleasant about travelling in those days, what with the bright company you often met outside, the jolly coachman with his inexhaustible stories, and the hun- dred incidents you had time to notice on the road. Yet I must say I would not like to coach it to London now. The improve- ments which we* grumble at are useful to you and me, sir, after all." "-..»»-- ^^^ 11. "What's that?" A piercing whistle, sharply repeated and answered — a curious movement — a hoarse call or two, Something is going wrong. Down claps every window, and heads look anxiously out. The peril is instantly understood, We are on the same line with an approaching train. 12. Such a scene of confusion as follows, such rapid, dismal whistles, euch heart-rending screams of distress as rise from those flying carriages, may we never hear or see again. Some of the doors are burst open, and the frenzied occupants leap out, to be left, writhing and ghastly, on the road. " Keep in— keep in — see ! we have still a chance for life." 18. By a special providence, the trains sighted each other at a good distance. The men have turned oflf the steam, and stand, white and breathless, in a terrible calculation— slacken perceptibly — we slide onward — good God i we iiiect !— iNOi Our lingering impetus carries ua within six yards of each arm. " Six yard fearing man fron: BHETORIGAL. Mt other, and there, with laboring vapor bursting from every out- let, face to face, we stop. 14. We stop, but are in imminent danger, for other trains are closely due, and if the irregularity has not been already rectified, our destruction is certain, "nie casual train has made the least way — it must go back, and we must follow Slowly we follow, as, with retrograding movement, it slowly goes, a belching monster," whose murderous crash has been arrested, but whose hot breath still snorts at us in rago and menace. n-.>^u- 15. What's that ! A man in the next compartment, unable - to bear the suspense, and trusting to the slow movement of the train, has jumped out ; he lies with a dislocated neck, so keep quiet there, if you value your safety : we keep quiet, in such prayer as terror can make : we proceed without new danger; and presently,— passing men who stand and seem to cheer, — passing an engine with a tail of carriages, which has arrived, and been detained for us, — passing beneath the crowded bridge, we glide into the station. 18. The casual train slides off into safety, and we pause before a throng of anxious faces on the platform. Our stoker jumps down— heavy beads are standing on his forehead. " Six yards between us and eternity P he shouts, with an outstretched arm. " Six yards between us and eternity 1" He is a God- fearing man from that hour. 88. THE MONTH OP OCTOBER IN ITALY. npHE month of October in Italy is certainly a glorious season. -*• The sun has contracted his heat, but not hh splendor ; he 18 less scorching, but n^t less bright. As he ribes in the morning, he dashes sparks of radiance over awaking nature .„.„„ri piitiCt,-, uputi ciueriiig- HIS prcaunce-cn amber, iiiiigi* liiindfuls of gems and gold into the crowd ; and the mountains 10 U*u.>~. )/{\*iA/L. ^i^aAam'T' 218 THE SIXTH READER. U(a*»>-' ' U: '\. >/ seem to 8tn?tch forth their rocky heads, and the woods to wave their lofty arms, in eajyerness to catch his royal largesa, 2. And after careering through a cloudless sky, when he reaches his goal, and finds his hed spread with molten gold on the western sea, and canopied above with purple clouds, edged with burnished yet airy fringes, more brilliant than Ophir sup" plied to the couch of Solomon, he expands himself into a huge disk of most benignant radiance, as if to bid farewell to his past course ; but soon sends back, after disappearing, radiant messengers from the world he is visiting and cheering, to re- mind us he will soon come back and gladden us again. 3. If less powerful, his ray is certainly richer and more ac- tive. It has taken months to draw out of the sapless, shriv- elled vine-stem, first green leaves, then crisp^slende^ tendrils, and lust, little clusters of hard, sour berries ; and the growth has been provokingly slow. But now the leaves are large and mantling, and worthy in vine countries to have a name of their own ; and the separated little knots have swelled up into lux- urious bunches of grapes. And of these some are already assuming their bright amber tint, while those which are to glow in rich imperial purple are passing rapidly to it, through a changing opal hue, scarcely less beautiful. 4. It is pleasant then to sit in a shady spot, on a hillside, and look ever and anon, from one's book, over the varied and varying landscape. For, as the broeze sweeps over the olives on the hillside, and turns over their leaves, it brings out from them light and shade, for their two sides vary in sober tint ; and as the sun shines, or the cloud darkens, on the viueyardo, in the rounded hollows between, the brilliant web of unstirring vine-loaves displays a yellower or browner shade of its deli- I'/ions green. 5. Then, mingle with these the innumerable other colors that tinge the picture, from the dark cypress, the duller ilex, the rich chestnut, the reddening orchard, the adust stubble, the melancholy pine — to Italy what the palm-tree is to the East- towering above the box, and the arbutus, aiid laurels of villas, RHETORICAL. 219 wd these scattered all over the mountain, hill, and plain, with fountains leaping up, and cascades gliding down, porticoes of glittering marble, statues of bronze and stone, pain1;pd fronts of rustic dwellings, with flowers innumerable, and patches ot V^'''-'^' ">' greensward ; and you have a faint idea of the attractions which, for this month, as in our days, used to draw out the Roman patrician and knight, from what Horace calls the clatter and smoke of Rome, to feast his eyes upon the calmer beauties of the country. Cabdhcal Wiskman. ^A 89. COXCOMBRY IN CONVERSATION. rpHE emphatic speaker dearly loves to oppose, -■- In contact inconvenient, nose to nose, • As if the gnomon on his neighbor's phiz, Touch'd w||» a magnet, had attracted his. His whisper'd theme, dilated and at large, Proves, after all, a wind-gun's airy charge, — An extract of his diary, — no more, — A tasteless journal of the day before. 2. He walk'd abroad, o'ertaken in the rain, Call'd on a friend, drank tea, stepped home again, Eesumed his purpose, had a world of talk With one he stumbled on, and lost his walk. I interrupt him with a sudden bow, — " Adieu, dear sir I lest you should lose it now.** 8. I cannot talk with civet in the room — A fine puss gentleman, that's all perfume ; c{^ His odoriferous attempts to please Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees ; But we that make no honey, though we sting, Poets, — are sometimes apt to maul the thing. 4. A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see, , Quite as absurd, though not so light as he ; 220 THE SIXTH READER. A bhallow brain behind a serious mask, An oracle within an empty cask. The solemn fop; — significant and budge, A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge ; He says but little, and that little said Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. His wit invites you, by his looks, to come ; But when you knock, it never is at home : 'Tis like a parcel sent you by the stage, Some handsome present, as your hopes presage; 'Tis heavy, bulky, and bids fair to prove An absent friend's fidelity and love,— But when unpack'd, your disappointment groans To find it stuffed with brickbats, earth, and stones. CoWTBfc 90. HENRY rV.'S APOSTROPHE TO KEEP. H' lU^ji OW many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep 1 Sleep, gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness I ■^.■^:>'-' 9. Why rather. Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, ■ Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, ^t s.^..^^^' - And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, t*.Htl And luU'd with sounds of sweetest melody? Oh thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, A watch-case, or a common 'larum-bell? a Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, h^ ' Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brainB ,. In cradle of the rude, imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, ;jiA\.tui.>A RHETORICAL. 221 Who take the ruflBan billows by the top, Carling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamors in the slippery shrouds That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? 4. Canst thou, partial Sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour s" rude ; WcwlU And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, *v/^4*t— Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down I Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. SaAlCBFBAUL, 91. SUCCESS THE REWARD OF MERIT, DISAPPOINTED authors and artists often talk as if they were the victims of the world's stupidity or malice ; as if men were unable or unwilling to appreciate them. Now, I know it is said that such things have been. There havo been men of rare promise, but of a sensitive nature, who have been crushed by coldness and neglect, or by the hard and unfair criticism with which their first attempts were met. But this is far from being a common thing. The world likes to be amused and pleased. It is really interested in having some- thing to praise. 2. This being so, how is it possible for a man of real merit to remain long unrecognized ? Who can imagine that the great masterpieces of painting, or the great poems that have come down to us from the past, could have failed to excite the admiration of men ? In fact, human judgment, when you take its suffrages over wide tracts and through the lapse of ages, is infallible. In a particular place it may be warped by passion ; in a particular time it may conform to an artificial standard ; but give it time and room, and it Is sure with unerring accuracy to detect the true. 3. It is as far as possible, then, from being the case that celebrated authors or celebrated artists have become great by y*MA* i j'*' ' f S93 THE SIXTH READER. accident. There may have boon favorable circumstances. Tliere were undoubtedly great gifts of nature ; but there was also deep study and painful, persevering toil. I have been told that the manuscripts of a distinguished English poet show so many erasures that scarcely a line remaius unaltered. The great cathedrals of Europe were the fruit of lif3-long labor. And these are but instances of a general rulo, 4. We go into the workshops in which some of the beau- tiful articles of merchandise are manufactured, and see a great fire and hear the clank of machinery, and men are hur- j^v^Wrying to and fro, stained with dust and sweat. Now some- thing like this has been going on to give birth to these beauti- ful creations in lettei's and arts which have delighted the world. There has been a great fire in the furnace of the bn \ and each faculty of the mind has toiled to do its part, and there have been many blows with the pen, the pencil, or the chisel, until the beautiful conception is complete. Such meu are successful, because they deserve it. The approbation of the world did not create their success, it only recognized it. Rev. F. 8. BAsmu 02. ALEXANDER'S FEAST. [Tbis poem, of which we give but an extract, is considered the lyric master- piece of English poetry, exemplifying as it does all the capabilities of onr language, in the use of every figure of speech. The measures change in every couplet ; there are scarce two lines alilie in accentuation, yet the whole seemi •8 spontaneous as the cries of alarm and consternation excited by the bocchfr nal orgies described.] NOW strike the golden lyre again, A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ; Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark 1 hark 1 the horrid sound Has raised up his head. As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. BHETOBICAL. 223 2. Reveuge I revenge I Timotlieus cries j See the furies arise ; See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in the air, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes. Behold the ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand I These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle are slain, And nnburied remain, Inglovious on the plain ; Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew I 3. Behold how they toss their torches on high — How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of the hostile gods 1 The princes applaud with a furious joy, And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy ; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey. And, like another Helen, fired another Troy, DBTDm. 93. THE SILVER-BIRD'S NEST. ["We were shown a beautiful specimen of the ingenuity of birds a few days since. It was a bird's-nest made entirely of silver wires, beautifully woven together. The nest was found on a sycamore-tree. It was the nest of t lianging-bird, and the material waa probably obtained from a soldier'! epaulet which it had found."J STRANDED soldier's epaulet, The water's cast ashore, A little winged rover met, ' •^•^'"- And eyed it o'er and o'er. The silver bright so pleased her sight, On that; lone, idle vest, She knew not why she should deny Herself a silver nest. A 924 THB SIXTH READER. S. The Bhiniog wire she peck'd and twirl'd, Vow/^*x•.. Then bore it to her bough, Where on a flowery tw|g 'twas curl'd— The bird can show you how ; But when enough of that bright stuff -^jV The cunning builder bore Her house to make, she would not take, Nor did she covet, more. S. And when the little artisan, While neither pride nor gnilt Had entered in her pretty plan, Her res^'ng.place had built; With here and there a plume to spare j?"^- About her own light form, Of these, inlaid with skill, she made A lining soft and warm. 4. But, do you think the tender brood c*yA'j«- She fondled there, and fed. Were prouder when they understood The sheen about their bed? Do yea suppose that ever rose, 01 higher powers possess'd, I»ecause they knew they peep'd and grew Within a silver nest? Mm H. F. Gocux 94. THE BURIAL AT SEA. [The author of this extract, Bingolarly beantifnl in thought and expression, Is on Anglican clergyman of England, a popular, pure, and poetical writer.] IT was that of one who, after seeking for health in a more genial climate, was returning to England, in the hope of lying among her own people. But we yet wanted three days of making our own land, when it pleased God to call her to himself. RHETORICAL. 225 2. It waB a Btill summer evening that I committed her to the deep. The sea was culm and peaceful ; tho suu almost rested his broad, red disk upon tho waters, forming a path of glory to himself upon the ocean like a road for happy spirits to a better world ; the soft hills of Portugal were blue in the ilirttance, the air was mild and balmy. It was just the scene fbat seemed as if tho world had never known and never could Know grief ; and there, while the vessel was held on and off, were the mourners clustering round the gangway. K^\ 8. There wore the weather-beaten sailors, with some feeling even in their iron countenances ; there was the union-jack, tho only mark of respect we could give ; then came the solemn service, and at the sad words, " We therefore commit her body to tfw deep," the splash of the waters, and the gurgling of tho waves over that which was committed to their trust — not given to their possession. For who but could feel that to be Christian burial, when the waves had been stilled and trod- den by our Redeemer, when the bodies of so many of his saints have been committed to them, and when one day they must of necessity give up their dead ? Rev. J. M. Neajlb. 95. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. TT'ING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sporty •IV And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobleti fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side, Aud 'raongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sigh'd : . And truly 'twas a gaUant thing to see that crowning show. Valor and love, aud a king above, and the royal beasts below. 11. Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid lanfrhino- lows • W,Uv, They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws : 5.crv\i. , 10* 226 THE SIXTH READEB. With wallowing might and stifled roar, they roU'd on one another, j.^J^^ ,^^^ Till all the pit, with' sand and mane, was in a thund'roua smother ; ^J^ ^^vi»i--»--'f The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing thro' the air: ttaid Francis then, " Faith ! gentlemen, we're better here than there 1" m. De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd the same ; C She thought, — The Count my lover is brave as brave can be ; He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me. Kings, ladies, lovers, all look on I the occasion is divine I I'll drop my glove, to prove his love : great glory will be mine I IV. She dropp'd her glove, to prove his love, then look'd at him and smiled ; He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild. The leap was quick, return was quick — he has regain'd the place, — Then threw the glove— but not with love— right in the lady's face. " By Heaven 1" cried Francis, " rightly done 1" and he rose from where he sat : " No love," quoth he, " but vanity, sets love a task like thatl" L. Hunt. 96. MODERN THEORIES. [Extract from a brilliant and eloqaent speech delivered in the National Assembly of FrancOj 1848.] A LL the novel doctrines of our day, all modern theories, tend -i^ to an immoderate thirst of enjoyment, and to a spirit ol aversion for and revolt against social authority. Yes, all the KnETOBIOAL. 227 .nt-socal tendencies that threaten „„r cunti-y, may bo sum- n^ed up ,„ those two words, enjoymont and con ™;I I„ "he fir. place, enjoyment not only of one's own proper y b„t „( rXXTl; rt '-'-' -'-' '- ''-"■™ -- --' Mr^r ^ '"5 '""" '° P'"='= ^'"'^ y" "•« authorities o, »,ch my assertion rests , and I shall do so without the sligh t .ntenfon to wound the feelings of others, but merely for he purpose of discnssion. I will call your attentior to oer tarn number of axioms or expressions put forth by eminS ■ociahsts, which iraolv thai .1o=,-„ „p ■ i-minent have alluded. '^^ '"" °^ ""J'^"""' "> '^"'=1' I 3. At the Luxembourg, the working classes were told that •hey ought to aspire to the highest degree-the maximum „f en oyment. Another orator has declared on this very Zr.Vhe' ople toll you, through me, that they wish no longer to be ;tmi„a,: """ '^- *"' "'' "' -J"^'"-' ■» -'.where .f!:fzr::ted:t:-i-y-::/Lrt 2-;:==e,;dtt^^^^ of happiness ,s substituted in its place J^eelf devotion, but a happiness which is altogether ma- 6. This is the end held out io -o„uh^ -•- , - ti'e French nation in.particnlar ""Inf •'" ^Iv ' '°^ *° thirsting after a maf.r.nl ! ' '" '''''''^"" *« t^ia S a material and immoderate enjoyment, the I* m .J^'j 228 ljJ^yA^w''.\\ THE SIXTH RBADER, people are taught to despise and to resist all kind of author, ity. This rebellious disposition is not a spirit of libei-ty, but a spirit of revolt, which threatens as much danger, if not more, to a republican government, as to any other kind of power, t. In fact, authority is an essential element in a republic as -veil as in a monarchy ; but the idea of authority is now-a- lays materially impaired among those classes, which threaten the social existence of France. The people are very willing to obey laws which they find to their taste ; but to obey the law because it is law, to obey the magistrate because he is the magistrate, is an idea which is fast becoming extinct in the mind of the French people. Montalkmbbet. 97. TO-MORROW IS SAINT CRISPIAN. [Before the battle of Agincourt, several of tLe officers were disconraged by the fewness of their soldiers. The Dnke of Westmoreland wishes but "one ten thousand of those men who were that day idle were there to help them." The king, Henry V., replies :] ' TTjTHAT'S he that wishes so? * " My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin ; The fewer men, the greater share of honor. God's will I I pray thee, wish not one man more. . . . Oh, do not wish one more. Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through our host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart ; his passport shall be made, And crowns for coming put into his purse. This day is called the Feast of Oris plan : He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand ou tiptoe when this day is named. 1 i S. He that shall live this dav. and see old ae-o. Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors, . And say: To-morrow is Saint Crispian. 6. The bowl oi RHETORICAL. 229 . . . Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words, — Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and aio'ster,— Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd ; This story shall the good man teach his son| And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending o tiie world, But we in it shall be remembered ; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. BRXKXSPJUtM, 98. A CHALLENGE TO AMERICA. T ET us quarrel, American kinsmen. Let us plunge into -L' war. We have been friends too long. We have too highly promoted each other's wealth and prosperity. We are too plethoric ; we want depletion : to which end let us cut one another's throats. ",">'■ 2. Let us sink, burn, kill, and destroy— with mutual energy; sink each other's shipping, burn each other's arsenals, destroy each other's property at large. We will bombard your towns, and you shall bombard ours— if you can. Let us ruin each other's commerce as much as possible, and that will be a con- siderable some. 3. Let our. banks break while we smite and slay one another; let our commercial houses smash right and left in the United States and the United Kingdom. Let us maim and mutilate onn another; let us make of each other miserable objects, cripples, hajt,^^d blind, adapted for the town's end, to beg during life. *" * 4. Come, let us render the wives of each other widows, and „ J „!,., ._.atiot,- 1.1SCU1 tu wccjj livurs ui tears, amounting to an important quantity of "water privilege." - 6. The bowl of wrath, the devil's punch-bowl, filled high, k rH 230 THE SIXTH READER. /fjv^V. filled high as possible, share we with one another. Tin's, with shot and bayonets, will be good in your in8id(,'8 and in t'uy i„ side— in the insides of all of us brethren. 6. Oh, how good it is— oh, how pleasant it is, for bretlnvi, to engage iu internecine strife I What a glorious Hpe<;t;i,;i, we Christian Anglo-Saxons, engaged iu the work of mutual destruction— in the reciprocation of savage outrages— hIjuI present to the despots and the fiends I 1. How many dollars will you spend ? How many poiuKis sterling shall we? How much capital we shall sink on either side— on land as well as in the sea I How much we shall have to show for it in corpses and wooden legs 1— never ask what other return we may expect for the investment. 8. Ho, then, American kinsmen, let us fight; let us murdor and r.iin each other. Let demagogues come hot from their conclave of evil spirits, " cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war," and do you be mad enough to be those mad d.gH%nd oermit yourselves to be hounded upon us by them. Puj,ou, 99. THE WONDERFUL " ONE-HOSS SHAY." A LOaiOAL POEM. IThis witty and humorous poem is illustrative of New England charaalor, The i.'ords italicised are spelt in sueh a way aa to indicate ccrtoln pecu^ liarities of pronuuciation aomotimes heard among the uneducated in Now England.] TTAVE you heard of the wonderful one-;io8« nhay, ■■--■- That was built in such a logical way It ran a hun 'red years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it— Ah, but stay, I'll tell you what happened, without delay; Scaring the parson int.o fits, \v«/^') Frigiitening people out of their wits- Have you ever heard of that, I say? RHETORICAL. fg] i Seventeen Hundred and Fifty-five, Georgius Secundus was then alive- Snuffy old drone from the German hive! ^ nyroyal. 4. While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, news was brought him that the brave De Ruyter had suffered but little loss— had made good his retreat— and meant once more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the old warrior kindled at the words— he partly raised himself in bed —a flash of martial fire beamed across his visage — he clenched his withered hand, as if he felt ^within his gripe ^ that sword which waved in triumph before the walls of Fort Christina, and, giving a grim smile of exultation, sank back upon his »^*^ pillow and expired. 5. Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier — a loyal subject — an upjright Governor, and an honest Dutchman — who wanted only a few empires to desolate^ to have been immortal- ized as a hero I 6. His funeral obsequies were celebrated .with the utmost grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last sad honors to their good old Governor. ' All his sterling qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing the pall ; the populace strove who should walk nearest to the bier — uud the melancholy procession was closed by a number of gray-headed negroes, who had wintered and summered in , Wv, . secret upbraidings their own factiotis opposition to his govern. ment; and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had never been known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was now observed to pnflf a pensive pipe, and the big drop to et^al down his cheek, while he muttered, with affectionate accent and melancholy shake of the head, " Well don I — Hardkrppig Peter beu gone at last I" Ibtdia !^*y^ 101. 8TEASL OVER the billows and over the brine, H'- Over the water to Palestine 1 Am I awake, or do I dream? Over the Ocean to Syria by steam I My say H sooth by this right hand A steamer brave Is on the wave. Bound, positively, for the Holy Landt Godfrey of Boulogne, and thou, Richard, lion-hearted king, Candidly inform us, now, Did you ever? No, you never Could have fancied such a thing. S. Never such vociferations xiutstcd your iniagiiiatious As the ensuing— ■■>fe. KHETORIOAL. 287 "Ease her, stop her !" • Any gentleman for Joppa?" " Mascus, 'MascuB ?" " Ticket, please, Sir." "Tyre or Sidon?" "Stop her, ease her !» " Jerusalem, 'lem I 'lem 1"— '< Shur I Shur I" "Back her I" "Stand clear, I say, old file I" " What gent or lady's fo. the Nile, Or Pyramids?" " Thebes I Thebes I Sir I" "Steady j" ^ "Now where's that party for EngediP a. Pilgrims holy, Red Cross Knights, Had you e'er the least idea, Even in your wildest flights, Of a steam trip to Judea f What next marvel time will tiioir, It is diflBcult to say " Buss," perchance, to Jericho ; "Only sixpence all the way 1" Cabs in Soly^^a may ply, 'Tis not an unlikely tale ; And f^om Dan the tourist hie LJtPi. Unto Beersheba by rail. Powm. 103. ORIGIN OF THE CITY OP NEW YORK. fTHE sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and lo, the good St Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees in that «elf.8ame wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to children, and he came and descended hard by where the heroes of Oommunipaw had made their late repast. 2. And the shrewd Van Kortlandt knew him by his broad hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to the Sgure on the bow of the Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the fire and sat himself down and smoked ; and as he >n 238 THE SIXTH READER. jiW^ l/C Bmokod, tho snioko from his pipe ascended into the air, an*d spread like a cloud overhead. 8. And Oloffe bethought him, and ho hastened and clin)!)<.d up to the top of one of the tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread over a great extent of country— and as he con- Bid(!red it more attentively, be fancied that the great voluni,, of smoke assumed a variety of marvellous forms, where in dim obscurity he saw shadowed out palaces, and domes, and lofty spires, all of which lasted but a moment, and then faded away until the whole rolled off, and nothing but the green woods were left. 4. And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in his hat^band, and laying his finge" beside his nose, gave the astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant wink, then mounting his wagon, he returned over tbe tree-tops and dis- appeared. And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly instructed, and he aroused iiis companions and related to them his dream, and he interpreted it that it wao the will of St Nicholas that they should settle down and build the city here. 6. And that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast should be the extent of the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of Its smoke should spread over a wide extent of connt.ry. And they all with one voice assented to this interpretation except ing Mynheer Ten Broeck, who declared the meaning try be thai It should be a city wherein a little fire should occasion a gre:it smoke, or, in (rther words, a very Vitj ..ring little city -hot which interpretations have come strangely to pass I lavwa 108. THE DISMISSAL OF GENERAL VON POFFENBURGtt yHE vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not to be deceived ■*- Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of all the !r/r' """^ ^''^'''^ ^f '"■'^ *" ^'^ ^^''^' &ar«'8h<>d with the 0!i^,.nrn;iry jjioua oaths, pruLusi;uiun8, and ejacujations— "^arkee, comrade," cried he, "though by your own aocuunt KHETOIUCAL. 289 you aro the, rnoHt brave, upright, and honorable man in tha ffhohi province, yet do you lie under the ini8f.>rtuue of being damnably traduced and immeasurably despiaed. 2. " Now, though it is certainly hard to punish a man for his .sfcrtunes, and though it is very ponsiblo you aro totally in- nocent of the crimes laid to your charge, yet as Heaven, at resent, doubtless for some wise purpose, sees fit to withheld 'JiC^ all proofs of your innocence, far bo it from me to counteract Its sovereign will. Besides, I cannot consent to venture my arinic-8 with a commander whom they despise, or to trust the weltare of my people to a champion whom they distrust 3. "Retire, therefore, my friend, from the irksome toils and cares of public life ^^ ith this comforting refloction-that if guilty, you are but enjoying your just reward-and if innocent you are not the first great and good man who has most wrong! fully been slandered and maltreated in this wicked world— ioubtless to be better treated in a better world, where there shall be neither error, calumny, nor persecution. In the mean time, let me never see your face again, for I have a horribly antipathy to the countenances of unfortunate great m, . ake yourself." iBnHOt 104, THE HEIGHT OF RIDICULOUH. "I WROTE some lines, once on a time, -■- In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would sfty They were exceeding good. 8. They were so queer, so very queer, I laugh'd as I would die; Albeit in the general way \>' 105. CX)DNTBT EXCUBSION. {An anraslng extract, describing the eflforts of Mr. Pickwick and his ihnt Menda to ride and drive.] ■jITR. PICKWICK found that his three companions had risen, - — and were waiting iiis arrival to commence breakfast; which was ready laid in tempting displav. They sat down to RHETORICAL. , 2^1 the meal ; and broiled ham, egg.\ tea, coffee, and sundrie s. ^W • began to disappear with a rapidity which /at once bore testi- mony to the excellence of the fare, and the appetites of its contiinners. 2. "Now about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick. "How shall we go?" "We had better consult the waiter, perhaps," said Mr, Tupman ; and the waiter was sunniioned accord ingly. "Dingley Dell, gentlemen ?— Fifteen miles, gentle- men—cross road.— Post-chaise, sir?" " Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said Mr. Pickwick. "True, sir — beg your" pardon, sir.— Very nice four-wheel chaise, sir — seat for two ijehind — one in front for the gentleman that drives — oh ! beg your pardon, sir — that'll only hold three." 3. " What's to be done ?" said Mr. Snodgrass. " Perhaps one of the gentlemen like to ride, sir?" suggested the waiter, looking towards Mr. Winkle ; " very good saddle-horses, sir- any of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester, bring 'em back, Kir." '• The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. " Winkle, will you go on horseback ?" 4. Now Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings, yv*A*vC in the very lowest recesses of his own heart, relative to his equestrian skill ; but, as he would not have them even sus- pected on any account, he at once replied with great hardi- hood, "Certainly. I should enjoy it of all things." Mr. Winkle had rushed upon hia fate; there was no resource. ^ '^^^ "Let them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. Pickwick. "Very well, sir," replied the waiter. 5. The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; and the lavellers ascended to their respective bedrooms, to, prepare iange of clothing, to take with them on their approaching ipeditiou. Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrauge- ients, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the kUw^u. -asscngers in the street, when the waiter entered, and an- '^ iouriccd that the chaisa vyas ready — an announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed, by fortliwith appearing before the coffee-room blinds aforesaid. B42 THE SIXTH READER. J^ iWi'^r - 6. It was a curious little green box on four wheels, with i low place like a wine-bin for two behind and an elevated perch for one in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, dig. playing great symmetry of bone. An hostler stood near it, holding by the bridle another immense horse— apparently a near relative of the animal in the chaise—ready saddled foi Mr. Winkle. 7. "Bless my soul I" said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon the pavement while the coats were being put in. " Bless my soul ! who's to drive? I never thought of that." " Oh 1 you of course," said Mr. Tupman. " Of course," said Mr. Snod' grass. " 1 1" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. " Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hostler. " Warrant him quiet, sir ; a hinfant in arms might drive him." "He don't shy, does he?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. *'Shy, sir?— he wouldn't shy if he was to meet a vagin-load of monkeys, with their tails burnt off." 8. The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin ; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his perch, and deposited his feet on a floor-clothed sbelff " erected beneath it, for that purpose." " Now, shiny Villiam " said the hostler to the deputy-hostler, "give the gen'lm'n the ribbin.." "Shiny Villiam''— so called, probably, from hin sleek hair and oily countenance— placed the reins in Mr. Pickwick's left hSnd ; and the upper hostler thrust a whip into his right. ~^ ^ 9. "Woo!" cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided inclination to back into the coffee-room window. " Woo 1" echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass, from the bin. "Only his playfulness, gen'lm'n," said the head-hostler, encouragingly; "jist kitch hold on him, Villiara." The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and the prin- cipal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting. " Tather side, sir, if you please." " Blowed if th« o-p..»!m'r. i.r^..r.H „ „„**.„'. .._' - - - - — jj , .^.-iii I- m j^ulim up on the wrong side," whispered a grinning post-boy to the i» expressibly gratified waiter. RHETORICAL. Mt 10. Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle with about as much difficulty as he would have experienced la getting up the side of a first-rate man-of-war. "All right?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it was all wrong. "All right," replied Mr. Winkle, faintly. 'W "Let 'era go," cried the hostler. "Hold him in, sir;" and away went the chaise and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pick- wick on the box of the one, and Mr. Winkle on the back of the other, to the delight and gratification of the whole inn- jard, ^'^ 106. COUNTRY EXCURSION— (Contiitoed). "II^HAT makes him go sideways?" .: Mr. Snodgrass in, ** the bin to Mr. Winkle in the .add!'. "I can't imag- ine," replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was going up the street in the most mysterious manner — side first, with his head towards one side of the way, and his tail to the other. 2. Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe eiiher this, oi any other particular, the whole of his faculties being coucen trated in the management of the animal attached to the chaise, who displayed various peculiarities, highly interesting to a by-stander, but by no means equally amusing to any one ^ seated behind him. Besides constantly jerking his head up i«.'>»v>*^ in a very unpleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging ^^^^(j^ at the reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great difficulty for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular , , propensity for darting suddenly every now and then to the **'~''*'^*^'^ side of the road^ then stopping short, and then rushing for- ward for some minutes at a speed which it was wholly im possible to control. 3. "What can he mean by this?" said Mr. Snodgrass, when tlie horse had executed this manoeuvre for the twentieth time. "I don't know," replied Mr. Tupraan ; "ll looks very like shy. ing, don't it?" Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when ha was interrupted by a shout from Mr. Pickwick. £44 THE SIXTH READER, ^' ' 4. " Woo !" said that gentleman, •' I have dropped nij whip." " Winkle," criec' Mr. Snodgrass, as the equostriun came trotting up on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears and shaking all over, as if he would shake to pieces, witii the viole"^e of the exercise. "Pick up the whip, there's a good fellow." Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the taW horse till he was black in the face ; and having at length succeeded in stopping him, dismounted, handed the whip to Mr. Pickwick and, grasping the reins, prepared to remount, 5. Now whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness ot his disposition, was desirous of having a little innocent re- creation with Mr. Winkle, or whether it occurred to him that he could perform the journey as much to his own satisfaction without a rider as with one, are points upon which, of course we can arrive at no definitive and distinct conclusion. By whatever motives the animal was actuated, certain it is that Mr, Winkle had no sooner touched the reins, than he slipped them over his head, and darted backwards to their full length. 6. '"Poor fellow," said Mr, Winkle, soothingly, — "poor fcl low — good old horse." The " poor fellow" was proof againHt flattery: the more Mr, Winkle tried to get near him, the more he aidled away ; and, notwithstanding all kinds of coax- ing and wheedling, there were Mr, Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten minutes, at the end of which time each was at precisely the same distance from the other as when they ISrst commenced — an unsatisfactory sort of thing under any circuuistances, but particularly so in a lonely road, where no assistance can be procured. _^7, "What am I to do?" shouted Mr, Winkle, after the y,y^ dod ging had been prolonged for a considerable time, " What am I to do if I can't get on him I'- "You had better lead him till we come to a turnpike," replied Mr. Pickwick from the chaise. " But he won't come," roared Mr. Winkle, " Do come and hold iiim." 8, Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindueis and uyrwi. BHETGEIOAL. 2i5 humanity • he threw the reins on the horse's back ; and hav- ing descended from his seat, carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest any thing should come along the road, and stepped back to the assistance of his distressed companion, leaving Mr. Tnpman and Mr. Snodgrass in the vehicle. 9. The horse no sooner behe'd Mr. Pickwick advancing owards him, with the chaise-whip in his hand, than he ex- changed the rotary motion in which he had previously in- dulged for a retrograde movement of so very detei-mined a character that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was still at the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate than fast walk- ing, in the direction from which they had just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his assistance ; but the faster Mr. Pickwick ran forward, the faster the horse ran backward. 10. There was a great scraping of feet, and kicking up of the dust ; and at last Vv. Winkle, his arms being nearly __. pulled out of their sockets, fairly let go his hold. The horso- i'^u paused, stared, shook his head, turned round, and quiet'/ trotted home to Rochester, leaving Mr. Winkle and Mr. Pick- wick gazing on each other with countenances of blank dis- may. A rattling noise at a little distance attracted their attention. They looked up. "Bless my soul!" exclaimed the agonized Mr. Pickwick, " there's the other horse running 11. It was but too true. The animal was startledby thb noiie, and the reins were on his back. The result may be guessed. He tore off with the four-wheeled chaise behind iM'^ him, and Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the four-wheeled chaise. The heat was a short one. Mr. Tupman threw him- gelf into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass followed his example ; the hursu dashed the four-wheeled chaise against a wooden bridge, separated the wheels from the body, and the bin from the perch, and finally stood stock-still to gaze upon the ruin he had made, 12. The first care of the two unspilt friends was to extricate their unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset— a x^jua i «ffl^ f > - c 246 THE SIXTH BEADEB. process which gave them the unspeakable satisfaction of diV covering that they had sustained no injury beyond sundry rents in their garments and various lacerations from the brambles. The next thing to be done was to unharness th« horde. This complicated process having been effected, tlir party walked slowly forward, leading the horse among them »nd abandoning the chaise to its fate Dickens. 107. SIR HUDIBRAS. lln this most witty poem Hudlbras, a EepubUcan offlcor daring tlie period of the Commonwealth in, England, Is represeited as saUying out for the entire reformation of the kingdom. Before giving m account of his doughty ex- ploito, his character is thus described :] TTE was in logic a great critic, Aa Profoundly skill'd in analytic: He could distinguish and divide A hair 'twixt south and southwest side; On either which he would dispute, Confute, change hands, and still confute; He'd run in debt by disputation, And pay with ratiocination: 2. All this by syllogism true, In mood and figure he would do. For rhetoric he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope; And when he happen'd to break off r th' middle of his speech, or cough, H» had hard words ready to show why, And tell what rules he did it by; 8. Else when with greatest art he spoke, You'd think he talk'd like other folk; For all a rhetorician's rules Teach nothing but to name his toola. IV'M BHETOBIGAL. 347 But when he pleased to show 't, his speech lu loftiness 6f sound was rich ; A Babylonish dialect, Which learned pedants much affect; 4. It was a party-color'd diess Of patch'd and p ieba ld languages ; ^UfA^l , jaL, 'Twas "English, cut on Greek and Latin, Like fustian, heretofore, on satin. Umi- In mathematics he was greater Tiian Tycho Brahe or Brra Pater; '-" For he, by geometric scale, Could take the size of pots of ale ; 6. Resolve by signs and tangents straight, If bread and butter wanted weight ; And wisely tell what hour o* th' day The cl>ck does strike by algebra. Besides, he was a shrewd philosophr,:', -a) And had read every text and gloss over; Whae'er the crabbed'st author hath, He understood b' implicit faith ; • Whatever skeptic could inquire for, For every why he had a wherefore ; Knew more than forty of them do, As far as words and terms could go; All which he understood Jb^jrotg,. w r^i^^t^ And, as occasion served, would quote ; No matter whether right or wrong, They might be either said or sung. Bctmb. 108. MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. [The following is a fine example of irony.] WE owe the ancients something. You have read • • ineir TrCrin.a, uu uuuu^--=>ai. iuuoi, la a xrunsiauun j Yet there was argument in what he said, I scorn equivocation or evasion, 248 THE SIXTH JtEADKR. And own, it must, in candor, be confess'd, They were an ignorant set of men at best. i. 'Twas their misfortune to be born too soon By centuries, and in the wrong place, too; They never saw a steamboat or balloon, Velocipede, or Quarterly Review; Or wore a pair of Back's black satin breechn. Or read an almanac, or C n's speeches. 8. In short, in every thing we far outshine them— Art, science, taste, and talent; and a stroll 'vcj.^ Through this enlightened city would refine 'em More than ten years' hard study, of the whole Their genius has produced, of rich and rare- - God bless the corporation and the mayor I • 4. And on our City Hall a justice stands ; A neater form was never made of board • Holding majestically in her hands fT A pair of steelyards and a wooden sword, o^i-^... And looking down with complaisant civility Emblem of dignity and durability. Hallbok. 109. SQUIRE BULL AND HIS SON JONATHAN. TOHN BULL was a choleric old fellow, who held a good j}^ O manor in the middle of a great mill pond, and which, by reason of its being quite surrounded by water, was generally called BuUock Island. Bull was an ingenious man, an exceed- ingly good blacksmith, a dexterous cutler, and a notable weaver and pot-baker besides. He also brewed capital porter, tfle, and small-beer, and was, in fact, a sort of Jack-of-alt RHETORICAL. 249 trades, and good at each. In addition to these, he was a hearty follow, an excellent bottle-companion, and passably honest as times go. 2. But what tarnished all these qualities was a very quarrel- some, overbearing disposition, which was always getting him into some scrape or other. The truth is, he never heard of a"** jiarrel going on among his neighbors but his fingers itched b l)e in the thickest of them ; so that he was hardly ever seen without a broken head, a black eye, or a bloody nose. Such was Squire Bull, as he was commonly called by thejs country people, liis neighbors — one of those odd,''*te8ty, grum- bling, boasting old codgers, that never get credit for what they are, because they are always pretending to be what they are not- ^vvv 3. The Squire was as ti^t a hand to deal with in doors as out. Sometimes treating his family as if they were not the same flesh and blood, when they happened to differ with him in certain mattors. One day he got into a dispute with his youngest son Jonathan, who was familiarly called Brother Jonathan, about whether churches ought to bo called churches or meeting-houses, and whether steeples were not an abomina- tion. 4. The Squire, either having the worst of the argument, or being naturally impatient of contradiction (I can't tell which), fell into a great passion, and swore he would physic such no- tions out of the boy's noddle. So he went to some of his doc- tors, and got them to draw up a prescription made up of thirty- nine different articles, many of them bitter enough to some palates. This he tried to make Jonathan swallow, and finding lie made villainous wry faces, and would not do it, fell upon Inni and beat him like fury. 5. After this he made the house so disagreeable to him, that Jonathan, though as hard as a pine-knot, and as tough as*'***'**" loathcr, ivoM bear it no dinger. Tasking his gun anci axe, he put himself in a boat, and paddled over the mill-pond to some new lands to which the Squire pretended some sort of claim, tfftO THE SIXTH READER. rn' .v«*- |>/JtM. intending to seffle them and build a meeting-house without a Bteeplo as soon as he grow rich enough. 6. When he got over, Jonathan found the land was quite in a state of nature, covered with wood, and inhabited by nobody but wild beasts. But being a lad of mettle, he took his axe on one shoulder and his gun on the other, marched into tlie thickest of the wood, and clearing a place, built a log cabin. Pursuing his labors, and handling his axe like a notable wooda- man, he, in a few years, cleared the land, which he laid out into thirteen good farms; and building himself a fine frame house, about half finished, began to be quite snug and com- fortable. euv~— ^*«, T. But Squire Bull, who was getting old and stingy, and, besides, was in want of money, on account of his having lately been made to pay swinging damages for assaulting his neigli. bors and breaking their heeds— the Squire, I say, finding that Jonathan was getting well to do in the world, began to be very much troubled about his welfare ; so he demanded that Jonathan should pay him a good rent for the land which he had cleared and made good for something. 8. He trumped up I know not what claim against him, and, under different pretences, managed to pockcH all Jonathan's honest gains. In fact, the poor lad had not a shilling left for holiday occasions ; and, had it not been for the filial respect he felt for the old man, he would certainly have refused to sub- mit to such impositions. But, for all this, in a little time Jon- athan grew up to be very large of his age, and became a tall, stout, double-jointed, broad-footed cub of a fellow, awkward in his ^it and simple in his appearance, but showing a lively, shrewd look, and having the promise of great strength when he should get his full growth. 9. He was rather an odd-looking chap, in truth, and had irgwj^'^- '"^*"y *• :.^ ^r >J^ ^' ; fwA; 1 jn^itii RHETORICAL. 251 Bull kept on picking his pocketH of every penny he could scrape together ; till at last one day, when the Squire wag even more than usually pressing in his demands, which he ac- companied with threats, Jonathan started up in a furious pas- sion, and threw the tea-kettle at the old man's head. 10 The choleric Bull was hereupon exceedingly enraged and aftei calling the poor lad an undutiful, ungrateful, rcb(;l lious rascal, seized him by the collar, and forthwith a furious Bcuffl6 ensued. This lasted a long time ; for the Squire, thnngh in years, was a capital boxer, and of most excellent bottoi^. At last, however, Jonathan got him under ; and before ho would let him up, made him sign a paper, giving up all claims to the farms, and acknowledging the fee-simplt; to be in Jona- than forever. v^lU^ » t «- t» J. E. Paulsino. 110. AN AMUSING ANECDOTE. AF Stuart, the American painter, this amusing anecdote is yj related. He had put up at an inn, and his companions were desirous, by putting roundabout questions, to find out his calling or profession. Stuart answered, with a grave face uaH serious tone, that he sometimes dressed gentlemen's and ladies' hair. At that time, high-cropped pomatumed hair was all the fashion. 2. "You are a hair-dresser, then?" "What," said he, "do I look like a barber?" "I beg your pardon, sir, but' I in- ferred it from what you said. If I mistook you, may I take the liberty to ask what you are, then?" " Why, I sometimes brush a gentleman's coat or hat, and sometimes adjust a cravat." 3. "Oh, you are a valet, then, to some nobleman?" "A valet 1 Indeed, sir, I am not. I am not a servant. To be flure, I make coats and waistcoats for gentlemen." "Oh, you are a tailor?" "A tailor! do I look like a tailor? I assure you, I never handled a goose, other than a roasted one." 4. By this time they were all ii. a roar. "What are you, M V 262 THE 8IXTH READER. then?" said one. " I'll tell you," said Stuart. «' Be assured, all I have said is liteniUy true. I dress hair, brush hats and coats, ad^ .st a cravat, and make coats, waistcoats, and breeches, and Jikowiae boots and shoes, at your service."' 5. "Oh, ho! a boot and shoemakir, after all 1" "Guess gain, gentlemen. I never handled boot or shoe, but for my wn feet and legs ; yet all I have told you is true." " We my as well give up guessing." " Well, then, I will tell you, upon my honor as a gentleman, ray bona Jide profession. I ^ get my bread by making faces." \fU^ 6. He then screwed his countenance, and twisted the lioea- raents of his visage, in a manner such as Samuel Foote or f^U ^'"^'"'"^ Matthews might have envied. His companions, nftor t^"*! loud peals of laughter, each took credit to himself for hav ing suspected that the gentleman belonged to the theatre, and they all knew he must be a comedian by profession;' when, to their utter astonishment, he assured them that he was never on the stage, and very rarely saw the inside of a play-house, or any similar place of amusement. They all now looked at ';ach other in utter amazement. T. Before parting, Stuart said to his companions : " Gentle- men, you will find that all I have said of my various employ. ments is comprised in these few words : I am a portrait rninter. If you will call at my place in London, I shall be ready and willing to brush you a coat or hat, dress your hair a la mode, supply you, if in need, with a wig of any Isl^NMt^- fashion or dimensions, accommodate you with boots or shoes, I \. give you ruffles or cravat, and make faces for you." 111. FAME. r\E, who shall lightly say that fame ^ Is nothing but an empty name, V\A- While in that sound there is a charm. The nerves to brace, the heart to warm; RHETORICAL. 268 As, thinking of the mighty dead, The young from slothful couch will start, And vow, with lifted hands outspread, Wv^^ Like them to act a noble part? ' 2. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame Is nothing but an empty name. When, but for those, our mighty dead, All ages past a blank would be f Sunk in Oblivion's murky bed — >>v^'i*>^- A desert bare — a shipless sea I They are the distant objects seen, The lofty marks of what hath been. 8. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame Is nothing but an empty name, When memory of the mighty dead To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye The brightest rays of cheering shed. That point to immortality ? Joanna Bailuk ■/ lid. LIFE. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream 1" For the soul is dead that slumbers, ^rM^-^J^ And things are not what they seem. "tiru-v 2. Life is real I Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal: 'Vn^■rX " Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. 8. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. Is our destined end or way ; 254 THE SIXTH BEADEB. But to act, that each to-morrow Find us further than to-day. 4. Art is long, and time is fleeting ; ^».nc And our hearts, though stout and brave. Still, like muffled drums, are beating fe^J Funeral marches to the grave. ^^^^ 6. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle: Be a hero in the strife 1 6. Trust lib Future, howe'er pleasant : Let the dead Past bury its dead : Act — act in the living present, Heart within, and God overhead ! 7. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of Time ;— 8. Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main,' ^Jj^ ivu:.. A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,' See-ag, shall take heart again. •. Let us, then, be up and doinj^^ With a heart for any fate j Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to waUI Lohoihxow. PART III. ORATORICAL. 1. ORATORY AS AN ART. ONE cause of our not excelling in oratory is our neglecting to cultivate the art of speaking — of speaking our own language. We acquire the power of expressing our ideas almc^t insensibly ; we consider it as a thing natural to us ; we do not regard it as an art ; but it is an art, a difficult art, an intricate art ; and our ignorance-of that circumstance, or our omitting to give it due consideration, is the cause of our de- ficiency. 2. In the infant just beginning to articulate, you will ob- serve every inflection that is recognized in the most accurate treatise on elocution ; you will observe, further, an exact pro- portion in its several cadences, and a speaking expression in its tones. I say, you will observe these things in almost every infant. Select a dozen men, men of education, erudition ; ask thena to read a piece of animated composition. You will be fortunate if you find one in the dozen that can raise or de- press his voice, inflect or modulate it, as the variety of the Biibjoct requires. 3. What has become of the inflections, the cadences, and the modulation of the infant? They have not been exercised ; they liave been teglected ; they have never been put into the hands of the artist, that he might, apply them to his proper use ; they have been laid aside, spoiled, abused ; and ten to one they will never be good for any thing. If we consider tEa 256 THE SIXTH READER. If^itt' very early period at which we begin to exercise the faculty of speech, and the frequency with which we exercise it, it mm be a subject of surprise that so few excel in oratory. I,, any enlightened community, you will find numbers skilled in some particular science or art, to the study of which they do not apply themselves till they had almost arrived at the sta^e if manhood. 4. Yet with regard to the powers of speech— those powers which the very second year of our existence generally calls into action, the exercise of which goes on at our sports, our studies, our walks, our very meals, and which is never long suspended, except at the hour of refreshing sleep— with re- gard to those powers, how few surpass their fellow-creatures of common information and moderate attainments I how very few desire distinction I how rarely does one attain eminence ! 5. In common conversation, observe the advantage which . the flftent speaker enjoys over the man that hesitates and ^v^-^-^ stumbles in discourse. With half his information, he has twice his importance ; he commands the respect of his auditors • he instructs and gratifies them. In the general transaction of business, the same superiority attends him. He communicates his views with clearness, precision, and effect ; he carries his point by his mere readiness ; he concludes his treatise before another man has set about it. Does he plead the cause of friendship? how happy is his friend I Of charitv? how for- tunate is the distressed I Should he enter the legislature of his country, he proves himself the people's bulwark. 2. THE STUDY OF ORATORY IN GREECE AND ROME. TN the ancient R(>public8 of Greece and Rome oratory was a A necessary brunch of a finished education. A much smaller prf>portiori of the citizens were educated than among us ; but of these a much larger number became orators. No 'man OKATORTCAL. 257 could hops for distinction or influence ^and yet slight this art. The commanders of their armies were orators as well as sol diers, and ruled as well by their rhetorioal as by their military skill. 2. There was no trusting with them, as with us, to a natural facility, or the acquisition of an accidental fluency by actual practice. But they served an apprenticeship to the art. They passed through a regular course of instruction in schools. They submitted to long and laborious discipline. They exer- cised themselves frequently both before equals and in the >jljU1jiu. presence of teachers, who criticized, repined, rebuked, excited emulation, and left nothing undone which art and perseverance could accomplish. The greatest orators of antiquity, so far from being favored by natural tendencies — except, indeed, in their high intellectual endowments — had to struggle against natural obstacles ; and, instead of growing up spontaneously to their unrivalled eminence, they forced themselves forward by the most discouraging artificial process. 3. Demosthenes combated an impediment in speech, an un- gainliness of gesture, which at first drove him from the foruut in disgrace. Cicero failed at first through weakness of lungs and an excessive vehemence of manner, which wearied his hearers and defeated his own purpose. These defects were conquered by study and discipline. He exiled himself from home, and luring his absence in various lands, passed not a iay without a rhetorical exercise, seeking the masters who were most severe in criticism, as the surest means of leading him tc the perfection at which he aimed. Wibi. 3. ORATION ON THE CROWN. [This has been ever regarded by the ablest critics as the greatest speech ol llie (greatest orator. It Is virtually a justification of the orator's whole public ife, and derives additional interest fi'om being the last great speech delivered in Athens. It waa occasioued by tlie following event: After the battle of Cliuronea tlie Athenians appointed Demosthenes to superintend the repairs in the fortifications of their city, A portion of the expense Incurred he 258 THE SIXTH BEADER. propo«aI was iUe^al. and ^ro:Zli:MnflZ^rC^^^^^^ reaLty to crush Demosthenes-his speech wa. a gCeffor'Sut n. pones' reply was overwhelming. Ctesiphon was trfumphaX ac!l!d .' -aSschines went Into banishment tn Ri.n^.» . ''*'"'*°"y acquitted and rhcor,. He „„ce read D^m. ^^,^ ^'I'liTT' tT " pre«elng their l«inilr.tlon, he Bald, "Ab, wh.t wonH 2,, ^ "^ """"■ yoa hewd the Uon u™^,..j ^ ^■. »"« »o»ld you lav. thougi,, |^ ^UT, if I a^ accused for what I have actually doue, h„» s^j\ . " "%'"" "■' "■™"g"-y'""d ba4a,„,-„',;: States had g„«e off aud attached themselves to Philip ..d he had becoce master at the same time of Eubm. Th;C and Byzanfum? What think ye these impious ml t^TS have .a,d or douof Said, doubtless, that the sZ.7l abandoued-that they wished to join us and weTdrZ! away that he had got command of the Helles^ by tL Byza„t,„es, and become master „f the corn trade of Greece- tbat a heavy neighbor-war had, by means of the tZT, been brought ,„.o Attica-that the sea had become unuav II' ble by the excursion of pirates from Eubma I ^ d.!; t M T''' ""^ ■■"* ""''■ =°™ «"«ffb, and a Kre.t ct, mnltr-a, "'°''^'' "'"'*' """^' <^ itheni.n ,T ^^umnutor always-every way spiteful and f.ult-fl^dint But th,s creature is a reptile by nature, that from t^bS mng never d,d any thing honest or liberal ; a very apeX traged-an, village (Enomaus. counterfeit orator."^ trvf ^ofd™""'"' '"«'y»" "'»')"«'=« beeatoyour cu» nh ■ .''°" •'''/<'» ^Po^k.to us about the past? A, if , phys,c,an should visit his patient and not order o pt'cl any thtng for the disease, but on the death of any onHta 4. Even the Hpf^^at 'T - — « »^ • -i, - • you o-ro^r ^. " /'■" '° ^^''^ ^'"^^ 8bouId make you groar~you accursed one I-by nothing that I have dona OKATORIOAL. 259 will it appear to have befallen us. Consider it thus, Athe- nians. Prom no embassy, on which I was commissioned by you, did I ever come away defeated by the ambassadors of Philip— neither from Thessaly nor from Ambracia, nor from the kings of Thrace, nor from Byzantium, nor from any other place, nor on the last recent occasion from Thebes ; but where his ambassadors were vanquished with argument, he came with arms and carried the day. 6. And for this you call me to account; and are not ashamed ic jeer the same person for cowardice, whom you require -^ "^ Bingle-handed to overcome the might of Philip— and that too by words. For what else had I at command ? Certainly not the spirit of each individual, nor the fortune of t^t. army, nor the conduct of the war, for which you would make me account- able — such a blunderer are you I 6. Yet, understand me. Of what a statesman must be re- bponsible, I deprecate it not. What are his functions? To observe things in the beginning, to tbresee and foretell them to others. This I have done : again, wherever he iinds delays, backwardness, ignorance, jealousies, vices, inherent and un- avoidable in communities, to contract them into the na- rowest compass ; on the other hand, to promote unanimity, i. cad- ship, and zeal in the discharge of duty. 1. All this, too, I have performed ; and no One can dis- cover the least neglect on my part. Ask any man by what means Philip achieved his successes, and he will answer, "By his army, and by bribing and corrupting men in power." Well, your forces were not under my command i " control ; do that I cannot be questioned by any thing done in that department. 8. Bu^ by refusing thip price of corruption, I have overcome Phi:;^ ; fur, as the offerer of a bribe, if it be accepted, has vau- qiiishf' the taker, so the person who refuses it, and is not oirupted, has vanquished the person offering. Tiierefore ia the commonwealth undefeated as far as I am concerned. Dbmosthbmhl 960 THE SIXTH BEADER. 4. ORATION ON THE CROWN— (Contdtobd). [Of the following extract, Lord Brougham Bays : " The fame of this iiolile passage is great and univereal, It is of a beauty and a force made for all tlms and all places,"] /^F this basa and infamous conspiracy and profligacy — or ^-^^ rather, Athenians, if I am to speak in erirnest of I'li? betrayal of Gvf^cian liberty — Athen^^ is by all mankind ac- quitted, owing to my coonru'I i ; and I am acquitted by you. Then do you ask me, MBJr.nee, by what I claim to be hon- ored? I will tell you. Beca-sBC, while ail the statesmen in Greece, beginning with your,f;\', have been corrupted, for- merly by Philip, and now by Aiexandfr, me, neither oppor- tunity, nor fair speeches, i^or large promises, nor hope, nor fear, nor any thing else, could tempt nor induce to betray aui^ht that I considered just and beneficial to my country. 2. Whatever I have advised my fellow-citizens, I have never :or.<.?.efl agnlnst Philip, the eloquence of Demosthenes fused th \thenia>;.. !,.s 5v wero, into one common unit. The whole assembly became ;.-. one ms .. -and had but one voice. Let us march against Philip Let 118 FIOUT FOR OUR LIBERTIES. LBT US CONQUER OR DIB I] rpHE Athenians never were known to live contented in a i- slavish though secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary power. No ; our whole history is a series of gallant contests f • pre-eminence : the whole period of our national existence li. been spent in braving dangers, for the sake of glory and reii >wn. And so highly do you esteem such conduct, as char- acteristic of the Athenian spirit, that those of your ancestors who were most eminent for it, are ever the most favorite objects of your praise. And with reason : for, who can reflect, without astonishment, on the magnanimity of those men who resigned their lands, gave up their city, and embarked in their ships, rather than live at the bidding of a stranger? 2. The Athenians of that day looked out for no speaker, no general, to procure them a state of easy slavery. They had the spirit to reject even life, unless they were allowed to enjoy that life in freedom. For it was a principle fixed deeply in every breast, that man was not born to his parents only but to his count -. And mark the distinction. He who re gards himself as born only to his parents, waits in passiv subn-ssion for the hour of his natural dissolution. He who c^ '■ u-s that he is the child of his country, also volunteers t'. .. death rather than behold that country reduced to vas- : :?e; and thinks those insults and disgraces which he must M .'ore in a state enslaved, much more terrible than death. 3. Should I attempt to assert that it was I who inspired you 262 THE SIXTH BEADER. With 8entimeiit8 worthy of your ancestors, I should meet the JU8 resentment of every hearer. No : it is my point to sj that such sentiments are properly your own ; that they were he sentiments of my country long before my days. I du but my share of merit in having acted on such prh.ciples d i"g every part of my administration. He, then; who condemns every part of my administration,-he who directs you to re n.e with severity, as one who hath involved the State in te^^ rors anddangers,_while he labors to deprive me of pres honors, robs you of the applause of all posterity. For if v now pronounce that my public conduct hath not been right it must be thought that you yourselves have acted wrong ; BuTit'lnTbe'^'^^ '"'''''' ''-'' '' ''' -^^- «^ ^•-- 4. No, my countrymen, it cannot be that you here acted wrong in encountering danger bravely for the liberty and safety of all Greece. No 1 I swear it by the spirit! ^- Bires, who rushed upon destruction at Marathon I- by thu«e Zl\T. rr' '' P^^*^^J-by those who fought the sea-fight at Salamis l-by the men of Artemisiuml-by th others 80 many and so brave, who now rest in our public sepulchres 1-aIl of whom their country judged worthy of th same honor ; ail, I say. not those only who were victorious. And with reason ; what was the part of gallant men, they all performed. Their success was such as the Supreme Ruler of the universe dispensed to each Dbmosthbnes. 6. A LAST APPEAL. r\ MY countrymen, you must be firmly convinced in your y minds, that Philip is at war with our State, and has tt IV, fTr *'''' "'"' '^ '« ^"""^^^» -d hostile to the whole of Athens, to the ground of Athens, and. I may uua ro tne gods of Athens (may they exterminate himl), there IS nothing which he strives and plots against so much as oui ORATORICAL. 268 Constitution, nothing in the world that he is bo anxious about 18 Its destruction. And thereunto he is driven in some sort by nfjcessity. 2. Consider. He wishes for empire: and believes you to be his only opponents. He has been a long time injuring you, as his own conscience beat informs him ; for by means of your wssessions, which he is able to enjoy, he secures all the rest of his kingdom :.had he given up Amphipolis and Potidrea, he would not have deemed himself safe even in Macedonia. He knows, therefore, both that he is plotting against you, and that >ou are aware of it; and, supposing you to have com mon sense, he judges that you detest him as you ought. 3. Besides these important considerations, he is assured that, though he become master of every thing else, nothing can be safe for him while you are under popular government : should any reverse ever befall him (and many may happen to mau), all who are now under constraint will come for refuge to you. For you are not inclined yours^elves to encroach J^-|^CI 1 usurp dominign ; but famous rather for checking the and usurper than depriving him of his conquests, ever ready to molest the aspirants for empire, and vindicate the liberty of all natioii'5, He would not like that a. free spirit should pro- ceed from Athens, to watch the occasions of his weakness ; nor is such reasoning foolish or idle. i. First, then, you must assume that he is an irreconcilable enemy of our Constitution and democracy; secondly, you must be convinced that all his operations and contrivances are designed for the injury of our State. None of you can b€ 80 silly as to suppose that Philip covets those miseries in VO- TLrace (for what else can one call Drongilus, and Cabyle, and Mastira, and the places which he is said now to occupy?), and that to get possession of them he endures hardships, and winters, and the utmost peril, but covets not the harbors of Athens, the docks, the srallevs. the silver-m'n ^ the rA^-^.ti.ioa of such value, the place and the glory— never may he or any ather man obtain these by the conquest of our city I— or that 2Hi THB aixru BHADEB. he will suffer you to keep thtv- :.;,..; He, for the sake of the barley and tli(^ millet in Thracian caverns, ho win- ters in the midst of horror- Impossible. The object ol that and every other enterprise of Philip is to become master here. 5. You have quitted, Athenians, the poRi* .» i.; ^.m^:, your ancestors left yud ■ you have been pt^rsuaded by those politicians, that to sUinu foremost of the Greeks, to keep a permanent force, an^l ledress injured nations, is all vanity and idle expense ; you imagine that to live in quiet, to perform no duty, to abandon one thing after another, and let strangers *»cize on all, briuj,'; w^ith it a marvellous welfare and abundant security. By such i.ieans a stranger has advanced to the post which you ought to have occupied, has become prosper- ous and great, and made large conquests : naturally enough. 6. A prize there was— uoUe, great, and gl )riou8— one for which the mightiest States were contending all along; but aa the Lacedaemonians were humbled, the Thebaus had their hands full through the Phocian war, and wg took no regard • he carried it off without competition. Tlie result has been to others terror, to him a vast alliance and ey tended power- while difficulties so many and so distressing surround the Greeks, that even advice is not easy to be found, Daat STHBNI8. 7, CICERO AND DEM0STHENE3 COMPARED. J- nv> me Demosthenes seems superior to Cicero. I one in my admiration of the latter. H< . ield tn ^orn what' ever he touches. He lends honor to speech. J ue words as no one else can use them. His versatility bej> id de- scription. H( ■ even concise and vehement when disposed to be so,— as against Catiline, against Verres, against An- tony. But we detect the eiabellishnients in his discourses. Tlie art is marvellous, but it is not hidden. The orator doei OUATORIOAL. 265 not, in h?8 concern for the Republic, forget himself, nor does he allow himself to be foi-otten. 2 Derausthenes, on tlio contrary, seems to lose all con- sciousness of himself, and to recognize only his country. He dues not seek the beautiful ; he unconsciously creates it. He it* superior to admiration. He uses language as a modest man uses his garment— for a covering. He thunders, he lightens he is like a torrent hurry ii:g all before it. We cannot criti cize him, for we are in the sweep of his influence. We think on what he says, not on how he says it. We lose sight of the speaker ; we are occupied only with his subject. Fknelon. 8. CATILINE DENOUNCED. [Cicero, the greatest of the Roman orators, was bom 106 b. a. As an orator ho ranks n' . lo Demosthenes. ' o rapidity with which ho composed hU immortal discourses, uotwithstandi 'ho multiplicity and importance of the business which oppressed him, did u prevent him bestowing on his style a perfection so uncouii ,.- that It is as ei'>v to understand his Orations as It la difficult, and perhaps even Impossible, n , aiislate them well. The Orationi (igaiust Catiline and Verres are masterpieces of denunciatory eloquence. Hav- lag taken part ag inst Antony, Cicero was prose d. lie was murdered by a party of soldiers headed by Popllius Lienas, wh.. j he had formerly saved by liis el(/quence. He perished In his sixty-fourth year. J TTOW long, Catiline, wilt them abuse our patience? How Al loDg al!s(j shuil thy madness elude u.s? Whither will thy ungovernable audacity impel thee ? Could neither the nightly garrison of the citadel, nor the watch of the city, nor the gen- eral '. ...sternation, nor the congress of all good men, nor thir strongly- fortified place where the Senate is held, nor the en- raged couiitenan( .;s of those senators, deter thee from thj imi .us designs? Dost thou not perceive that thy counsels are .ill disc vued? Thinkest thou that there are any of us igii it of thy transactions the past night, the place of rendezvous;, thy coUecti-d associates ? 2. Alas, the times I alu^ the public morals! The Sen^ite understands all this. The tuu^ul sees it, yet the traitor lives I 12 206 THE SIXTH READER. u Lives f Aye, and truly confronts ua Iiero in (council— takes pn i in our deliberations— and, with liis measuring eye, rnarkH dii; each man of us for slaughter I Anl wo all this while, streuii. CUB that we are, think that wo have amply discharged cjur d* ^j^ ties to the State if we but shun this madman's sword and fury! 3. Long since, Catiline, ongiit the Consul to have iirdorei thee to execution, and brought upon thine own head the mii tliou hast been meditating against jthers I Tliere was tlia virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held mor execrable than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Cuti- - liue, for thee I Think not that we are powerless because forbearing. We have a decree—though it rests among our archives, like a sword in the scabbard — a decree by which tliji life would be made to pay the forfeit of thy crimes, 4. And should I order thee to be instantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt whether all good men would not think it done rather too iate, than any man too cruelly. But vMf for good reasons I will yet defer the blow long since deserved. Then I will doom thee when no man is found so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess that it was justly dealt. While there is one man that dares defend thee, live ! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded, so scru. tiuized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic without my knowledge. 6. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightest movement, and ears to catch thy lowest whisper, of which thou shalt iio' dream. The darkness of night shall not cover thy treason- >.«^>. the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baffled on al sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noonday, what canst thou now have in view ? Proceed, plot, conspire as thou wilt lAMswto^ there is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose, nothing you can attempt, which I shall not know, hear, and promptly understand. Thou shalt soon be made aware that I am even more active in providing for the preservation of tna ■ State, than thou in plotting its destruction 1 CicEBa ORATORICAL. 96r ». CATILINE EXPELLED. IT length, Romans, wo are rid of Catilino ! We have il driven him forth, drunk with f„.y, broathing mischief threatening to revisit uh with fire and swoid He is go„e ' •le i8 fled ; he has escaped ; he has broken awav. No loncn./ within the very walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We nave forced him from secret plots into open rebellion. The bad citizen is now the avowed traitor. His flight is tin' con- fession of his treason I Would that his attendants had not been so few I 8. Be speedy, ye companions of his dissolute pleasures • be speedy, and you may overtake him before night, on the Aurelian road. Let him not languish, deprived of your so- ciety. Haste to join the congenial crew that compose hia v,^^ army; his army, I say,— for who doubts that the army under ^ Manlius expect Catiline for their leader ? And such an army f Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from debt ; gamblers and felons ; miscreants, whose dreams are of rapine, murder, and conflagration I 3. Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare Romans, your garrisons and armies ; and first, to that ^.J. maimed and battered gladiator oppose your consuls -and ,'en- erals; next, against that nn'serable outcast horde, lead forth the strength and floweB of all Italy I 4. On the one side chastity contends ; on the other, wanton- iness: here purity, there pollution; here integrity there I treachery; here piety, there profaneness; here constancy, there age; here honesty, there baseness; here continence, there ust; m short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, stru - gle with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness; every virtue'"""^ with every vice; and, lastly, the contest lies between well grounded hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict, I were even human aid to fail, would not the immortal gr^ds em= (power such conspicuous virtue to triumph over such^compli- |catedvice? ClOSBU. 268 THE SIXTH READER. JVIn-^'^^'TI 10. THE QUARREL SCENE FROM JULIUS CMSA^. Enter Caasius, Troboiiius, Titinius, Piudanis. Gas. Most nolle brother, you have done me wroug Bra Judge me, you gods ! Wrong I mine enemies F -^nd If not so, how should I wrong a brother? Cas Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs; ^nd when you do them, ''^-^ Bru. CassiuH, be content: Speak your griefs softly-I do know you well :_ Before the eyc.s of both our armies here, Which should perceive nothing but love 'from us Let us not wrangle: Bid them move away ihen ,n my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, And 1 will give you audience. Gas. Pindarus, Bid your commanders lead their char-.n-s off A little from this a-round rw ^ r^- , »».« \i , u . . [Exeunt Pmdaras, Bru. Metellus, do the like-— rjir . nr „ And let no man " ^^'^'^"'^^ ^^^^^'""«- Come to our tent, till we have done our conference. [H^-euM Scene Il.—lhe tent of Brutus. Enter Cassius and Brutus. Gas That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: You have condenm'd and notea Lucius Pella For taking I- ' , here of the Sardinians ; ,Lr^, Wherein, my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. Gas. In such a tin,e as this, it is not meet That every nice offence should bear its comment Bru. Let me tell you, Oassius, you vourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm • Jv4>* H'W .^V»«Vjil>u ORATORICAL. To sell and mart your offices for crdd To undeservers. " Cos. I an itching palm I You know that you are Brutus that speak this, «!f TK ^ ' '^'' 'P'^'^ "^^^ ^'«« y«"r last. 5m The name of Cassius honors this corruptiou, 4i.d chastisement doth therefore hide its head Las. Chastisement! 5ru. Eemember March-the ides of March remember I M not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? I What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, ,..^w And not for justice? 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 honor* For so much trash as may be grasped thus? ^^ I had rather be a Jog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Cos. Brutus, bay not me ; ril not endure it : I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions. Bm. Go to; you're not Cassius. Cas. I am. Bru. I say you are not. Gas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself- Have mind upon your health, tempt m^e noTrther Bru. Away, slight man I ' Crts. Is't possible? Bru Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your ra.h choler? ..^... Shall I be fr,ghted when a madman stares? Cas. Ye godsl ye gods I Must I enrlpro ..n ^v:,. 270 THE SIXTH READER. Go, show your slaves how choleric you are^ And make your bondmen tremble: Must I budge? ' Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch r^v.u. Under your testy humor? By the gods, t.,^.^ You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth^yea, for my laughter— When you are waspish. (^^ 1 Cos. Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cos. You wrong me, every way you wrong me, Brutus; I said an older soldier, not a better: Did I say better? Bru. If you did, I care not, Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me Bru. Peace, peace: you durst not so have tempted him. , Cas. I durst not? Bru. No. Cas. What I durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love • I may do that I shall be sorry for. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. Tliere 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 Pc;: certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; For I can raise no money by vile means; No, Cassius, I had rather coin my heart. And drop my blood for drachms, than to wring t-rU- -From the hard hands of neaHants fhcir vHo +ro«K By any indirection. I did send ORATORICAL. vn To you for gold tc pay my legions, Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius ? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassias so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, \J^ " Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts : Sash him to pieces ! Gas. I denied you not I Bru. You did. Gas. I did not: — He was but a fool That brought my answer back.— Brutus hath rived my heart A friend should bear his friend's infirmities ; But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do net till you practise them on me. Gas. You love me not. .Bm. I do not like your faults. Gas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appeal As huge as high Olympus. Gas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, Por Cassius is aweary of the world : Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; Oheck'd like a bondman: all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, c*^ To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could 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 : II that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heutt : Strike as thou didst at Cassar: for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Thau ever thou lov'dst Cassiu.s. Bru. Sheathe your dagger ; 4«.-vv«- Be angry when you will, it sli«*ll have scope ; J,^ THE SIXTH READER. Bo what you will, dishonor shall be humor. Oh, Cassius, you are yoked with a larab Ihat carries anger, as a flint bears fire ; ^ ho, much enforced, shows a hasty spark And straight is cold again. ' Cos. Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When gnef and blood ill-temper'd vezeth himf Bra. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. Cos. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. Bm And my heart, too. '^^''^^ '''^^'^'' Cm. Oh Brutus !-- Bru. What's the matter? When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful ? ' Bm. Yes, Cassius ; and henceforth. When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, Hell thmk your mother chides, and leave yon so. ' Bhakspbark 2. 11. MARC ANTONY'S ORATION. PRIENBS. Romans, countrymen, lend me your earg- J- I come to bury C^sar, not to praise him. ihe evil that men do lives after them- The good is oft interred with their bones • S( let ,t be with Caesar. The noble Brutw Hath told you, CfBsar was ambitious; If It were so, it was a grievous fault: And grievously hath C^sar answered it Here under leave of Brutus and the rest- (l^or Brutus is an honorable man. So are thev ull uii i. ....... ..^j- tome I to speak in Crosar'n funeral ORATORICAL. 278 He was my friend, faithful and just to me: Bnt Brutus says he was ambitioUvS ; And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 8. When that the poor have cried, Ceesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff— ^L W Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; ' And Brutus is an honorable man. You all di' 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 ! 4. 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 cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason 1 — Boar with me: My heart is in the coffin there with Cassar, And I must pause till it come back to me. 5. But yesterday, the word of Caasar might Have stood agaiuvSt the world: now lies he thera. And none so poor to do him reverence. masters ! if I were disposed to stir Your hearts to mutiny and rage, 1 should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honorable men : I will not do them wrong ; T rather choos- To wrong the dead, to wrorji^ myself, auc Than I will wrong such horK'Vable men. 5. But here's a pan-hment, with tlie ceai of i found it in tiis closet, 'ti« his '..iii: lict but tlie c<>mnion8 hi-ar his tosturaent, vo '.■%'Sf,r : 274 THE SIXTH HEADER. T. Which, pardon ise, I do not mean to read, And they would go and kiss dead Oaesar'a wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood: Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy. Unto their issue. — If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle; I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twaa on a summer's evening, in his tent,— That day he overcame the Nervii :— Look, in this place, ran Oassius' dagger through : See what a rent the envious Casca made : Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; V^. . • And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, v^^l ' Mark how the bloorf of Caesar followed it, As rushing out ot doors, to be resolv'd If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no I 8. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel : Judge, you gods, how d«arly Oaesai ' -ed him I This was the most unkindest cut of all : For when the noble Cfesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him : then burst his mighty heart And, in his mantle muffling up his face' Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Osesar fell. 9 0, what a fall 'was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.L 0, now you weep ; and. I perceive, you feel ^ The dint of pity: these are gracious drops ; Kind souls! What, weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here. Here in himself, marr'd as you see, with traitors'- armed to execu OBATORIOAL. 275 10. 11 Oood friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny, i^v*^., They that have done this deed, are honorable ; What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it: They are wise and honorable: And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts • h^A*. I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, '^Uii 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 utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men') blood. I only speak right on ; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak f(jr me : But, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue ^1 In every wound of Caesar that siiould move The stones of- Rome to rise and mutiny! Shakspkabx, 13. AGAINST THE EXECUTION OP LOUIS XVI. [Vergniaud, the most eloquent orator of the celebrated party known as the Girondists during the French Revolution, was bom in 1749; executed in 179;i. His speech at the opening of the Assembly for the trial of Louis XVI. pro- duced the greatest sensation on his hearers, of all parties, even the most recldess; Robespierre himself, thunder-struck by his earnest and persuasive eloquence, remained tsilent, and did not attempt to reply to it J TT IS said that it behooves the Convention to show courage A sufficient to pass judgment on the king, without callihg on the opinion of the people for its support. Courage ! It re- quired conrage to attack Louis XVI. in the height of his power. UoftH 1,. reqmro as much to genu Louis vanquished and uift- armed to execution ? 376 THE SIXTH READEB. 2. A so d,er entered the prison of Marius with the intention of murdenng h,m. Terrified at the «ight of his victin.., he without danng to strike. Had this soldier been a member J a senate do you suppose he would have hesitated to vote the death of a tyrant? What courage do you find in th per Wance of an act of which a coward would be capable ? ^ ng out, If bread is dear, the cause of it is in the Te.nplo l> If we are shocked every day by the sight of beggary tho cause of It is in the Temple. ^' 4 And yet tbose who hold this language well know that the dearness of bread, the want of circulation in provisions e maladministration of tho armies, and the indfgence wh Tetple '' "' T'"^ '"" ^*'" ^^"^^^ ^^^^"' ^- '^ thl: fb.^; .7^^*' *^'''' ^'^ *^''' ^'''^''' ■ ^ho will guarantee hat these same men, who are continually striving to de. d the Convention, and who might possibly have succeeded f perfidies ; that those same men who are everywhere pro- claiming that a new revolution is neces.ary-who are de- daring this or that section in a state of permanent insurr t tion ; who say that when the Convention succeeded Louis we only changed tyrants, and that we want another 10th of August; that these same men who talked of nothing but plots deaths traitors, proscriptions; who insist in their meetings' and in their writnigs that a Defender ought to be appointed f?,r the Repub he, and that nothing but a chief can save it;-who say, will guarantee to me that these very men w 11 not' e r 'u ^'d -^'.""'^"^ '^' ^''^^ '-^''' ^^«'-'- ^ ever. If bread is dear, the cause of it is in the Convention I If n»oney ,s scarce, if our armies are scantily supplied the cause of this is in the Convention I" / ./ ' . . , kW VEBGNIAUl). ORATORICAL. 277 :| 13. THE RISING OF THE VENDEE. [La Vendue \s a district on tlie western coiwt of France, tiie inhabitants oi irhicli were royalists, and fouglit bravely against the revolutionary govern ment In France, 1793.] IT was a Sunday morning, and sweet and pure the air, And brightly shone the Summer sun upon the day of prayer And silver-sweet the village bells o'er mount and valley tolled, And in the Church of St. Plorent were gathered yoimg and old, Wiien rushing down the woodland hill, in fiery haste was seen, With panting steed and bloody spur, a noble Angevine ; And bounding on the sacred floor, he gave his fearful cry, "Up I up for Prance 1 the time is come for France to live or die I" 11. "Your queen is in the dungeon ; your king is in his gore ; ft^^ toJiili O'er Paris waves the flag of death, the fiery tri-colour ; Your nobles in their ancient halls are hunted down and slain • In convent cells and holy shrines the blood is poured like rain. The peasant's vine is rooted up, his cottage given to flame ; His son is to the scaffold sent, his daugiiter sent to shame. With torch in hand and hate in heart, tiie rebel host is nigh. Up I up for France 1 the time is come for France to live or die 1" in. That live-long night the horn was heard from Orleans to Anjou, And poured from all their quiet fields our shepherds bold an true. Along the pU?asant banks of Loire shot up the beacon-fires, Lv^ And many a torch was blazing bright on Lu9on'8 stately spires^ The midnight cloud was flushed with flame, tluit hung o'er Parthenav: The blaze that shone o'er proud Brissac was like the breaking day, 278 THE SIXTH BE A I>EB. } t)u»«.vin_ Till east, and west, and north and south, the loyal beacon, shone " Like shooting stars from haughty Nantes to sea-begirt Olonne. And through the night, on horse and foot, the sleepless sum- mons flew, ^ And morning saw the Lily-flag wide-waving o'er Poitou And many an ancient musketoon was taken from the wall u^^ And many a jovial hunter's steed.was harnessed ,. the sUlI And many a noble's armory gave up the sword and spear ■ ' And many a bride, and many a babe, was left with kiss 'and And many a homely peasant bade farewell to his old dame As in the days when Prance's king u ifurled the Oriflamme. w. There leading his bold marksm . , rode the eagle-eyed Lescure And dark Stofflet, who flies to ,,l, as an ea^e t/ht 1^ ' ' And fearless as the lion roaeod, bin gentle as the lamb Boncham"^ ^' ^'' ^'"^''''' ^''^ '^' ^'''* ^°^ ^''^ Charette, where honor was the prize, the hero sure to wiri- And there, with Henri Quatre's plume, young Rochejacquei;i.; And there, m peasant garb and speech-the terror of the foe- A noble, made by Heaven's own hand, the great Cathelineau VI. We marched by tens of thousands, we marched by day and night, *' -^ The Lily-standard in our front, like Israel's holy light Around us rushed the rebels, as the wolf upon the shoPp- We burst upon their columns as a lion roused from sleep • We tore their bayonets from their hands, we slew them at their guns ; Their boasted horsemen^ fled^like chaff before our forest sous. Now, ' Hor* '8 a C3 ORATORICAL. 279 Tnat night we heaped their baggage high their lines of dead between, And in the centre blazed to heaven their blood-dyed guillotine 1 vn. In vain they hid their kads in walls; we rushed on stout Th ouar What oared we for shot or shell, for battlement or bar? I UL We burst ,f. gates ; then like u wind we rushed on Fontenay We saw ,t. flag with morninr light-'twas ours by setting We crushed like ripened grapes Montren I, we bore down old Vihiers ; Wc charged them with our naked breasts, and took them with a cheer. We'll hunt the robbers through the land, from Soin3 to spark- ling Rhone ; ^ ^"""iw^ r ' * ^'*^'" '" '" """ l«^e-onr Wnyjhcll have his ^ Cbolt. 14. LORD STRAFFORD'S DEFENCE. tAMVll [Lord Strafford, an ardent supporter of Charles I, was impeache'd and flnaUy beheaded i„ consequence, y the House of c;mmonrtoward; the close of the re^ of that unfortunate monarch. His defence ;„! ehitter Wby a depth of passion, breaking forth at times in passages of starmnj aTo^of th "T' r'^f "^ '"' °"^^ •'^ ^^^ '^•^^-' ^^- ofTratlr The TT ! ^i' *^«"^l"«l°" has ben much admired, and If wc o back in im .t .^V: r:r ^ ^'''"'''' -^^ Westminster naU-the once proud EaW anding an„d the wreck of his fortunes, with that splendid Court aroui Mm Which lately bowed submissive to his will; with his humblermonr h' cfTaH T fT"^'""^' ' ^''"^ '""'' ''"'■«* °f tendernes at the thougln arlier days, and of his wife, the Lady Arabella Hollis, " that saint in heav- , to whose memory he had always clung amid the po-;.er and spl ndor of later life; with his body bowed down under the pressure of JleX,- cal snfferino-. and hia atmnn. =„ih» .,tt-i.. ,„. , . . - mttnse physi- ,- ,, ^ ■ ■„ . - '■■•'^^" '"t'Tiij- 3UotiuL-a, ana pouL-ed out like water ZL;f r^^ "^i "^"^ ''°^'^' "^ ^"'•'^'' -y ^''^^■- Something mire M iBtended to .ay, but my voioe and my spirit fail me.".^we canno! b^tL. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ^U£ I 1^ 11.25 2.5 2.0 us u 140 6" LLS. li^l^ Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. !4580 (716)872-4503 ''^l'^^ 1^^^** # '^v^'^ ^ f/j 280 THE SIXTH HEADER. 't>«»uX,- that there are few passages of equal tenderness and powci In the whola rani^j of English eloquence. We are strongly reminded of Shakspeare's doi:neatinr, of WolBcy, under similar circumstances, in some of the most pathetic stcnpi which poetry has ever depicted.] jITY LORDS, be pleased to give that regard to the peoiage -1-*A of England, as never to expose yourselves to such novol Joints, such constructive interpretations of law. If there must be a trial of wits, let the subject-matter be somctliing else than the lives and honor of peers 1 It will be wisdom y yourselves and your posterity to cast into the fire these bloody and mysterious volumes of constructive and arbitrary treascn, as the primitive Christians did their books of curious arts, and betake yourselves to the plain letter of the law and the statute, which telleth what is and what is not treason, without beiii' ambitious to be more learned in the art of killing than om- forefathers. The^e gentlemen tell us that they speak in de- fence of the Commonwealth against their arbitrary treason I 2. It is now full two hundred and forty years since any man was touched for this alleged crime to this height before rny self. Let us not awaken those sleeping li'ms to our destruc- tion, by taking up a few musty records that have lain by the walls for so many ages, forgotten or neglected. 3. My Lords, what is my present misfortune may be forever yours. It is not the smallest part of my grief that not the crime of treason, but my other sins, which are exceeding many, have brought me to this bar ; and, except your Lorl ships' wisdom provide against it, the shedding of my blood may make way for the tracing out of yours. You, your estates, your posterity, lie at the stake. brtA^ 4. For my poor self, if it were not for your Lordships' in- terest, and the interest of a saint in heaven, who hath left me here two pledges on earth (at this his breath stonned, and he Bhed tears abundantly in mentioning his wife), I should never J take the pains to keep up this ruinous cottage of mine. It is f,v*v,t loadfd with such infirmities, tiiat in truth I have no great pleasure to carry it about wHh me any lunger. Nor c >uld I 15. SENATORIii ORA'i'ORICAL. 281 ever leave it at a fitter timo tlian this, when I li„po that tlie better part of the world would perhaps think that by my mis- fortunes I had given a testimony of my integrity to my God, my king, and my country. I thank G.^d, I count not the afflic' tions of the present life to be compared to that glory which is to bo revealed in the time to come I 5 My Lords 1 my Lords I my Lords I something more I had intended to say, but my voice and my spirit fail me. Only I do in all humility and submission cast mvsclf down at your Lordships' feet, and desire that I may Le a beacon to keep you from shipwreck.' Do not put such rocks in your own way, which no prudence, no circumspection can eschew or satitrfV «v,fe bat by your utter ruin 1 — 6. And 80, my Lords, even so with all tranquillity of mind, I submit myself to your decision. And whether your judgment in my case- I wish it were not the case of you all— be for life or for dejith, it shall be righteous in my eyes, and shall be received with a TeBeum laudamus--^xe give God the praise 15. SENATORIAL DENUNCIATION OF RICHARD CROMWELL. [Sir Henrjr Vane was bom in England, 1613. He waa the fourth Governor " x^°,f t Maseachnsetts. In 1662 he was executed for high treason, on Malvern HiU, England. The remarkable speech, of which we give a rie^ extract, did not fail in its effects-Richard Cromwell never appeared in pubUc after n was delivered. " This impetuous torrent," says one of Vane's biog- n>p.cr8, "swept every thing before it. Oratory, genius, and the spirit of liberty never achieved a more complete triumph. It broke, and forever the powei of Richard and his party."] ' U R. SPEAKER : Among all the people of the universe, I i know none who have shown so mnch jieal for the liberty of their country as the English at this time have done ;— they nitve,by the help of Divine Providence, overcome all obstacles Bn-l have made themselves free. We have driven awav the hered.tary tyranny of the House of Stuart, at the expense of much blood and treasure, in hopes of enjoying hereditary 1' I pte 882 THE SIXTH READER. iberfy, after having shaken off the yoke of kingsWp • and there is not a man among us who could have imagined tl.at any person would be so bold as to dare to attempt the ravisf, .ng from us that freedom which cost us so much blood ana so much labor. ^" 2 But 80 it happens, I know not by what misfortune, we • T „f ';; T' '' *'"'' "'" P°^'^«°«^ *^- Emperor T.tus to make room for Domitian ; who made away Augustus ^.at they m,ght have Tiberius; and changed dlaudius ^ ^ero. r am sensible these examples are foreign from ,nv subject, smce the Romans in those days were buried in 'owd- «es8 and luxury, whereas the people of England are now renowned nil over the world for their great virtue and disci- phne ; and yet,-suffer an idiot, without courage, without sense -nay, without ambition,-to have dominion in a coun- try of liberty I , 3 One could bear a little with Oliver Cromwell, though contrary to his oath of fidelity to the Parliament: contraryto M ^\! P"^^'"' """^'^'"^ '"^ '^^ '-^^Pe^^t he owed that venerable body from whom he received his authority he usurped the Government. His merit was so extraordinary, that our judgments, our passions, might be blinded by it He jnade his way to empire by the most illust">V.us actions ; h- had under his command an army that hjr. ,de him a con- queror, and a people that had made him their general 4 But, as for Richard Cromwell, his son. who is he? what aij his tites? We have seen that he had a sword by his Bide ; but did he ever draw it? And, what is of more import- ance in this case, is he fit to get -obedience from a mighty „a tion, who could never make a ibotman obey him? Yet w. must recognize this man as ouv king, under the style of Pro tectorI_a man without birth, without courage, without cob- duct For my part, I declare, sir, it ehall never be said that I made such a man my master 1 sib H.«Br V^. ,.,.ryi ORATORICAL. 16. KING JOHN AND HUBERT. 283 [This speech, whore King John takes Hubert aside and tempts him to nndertake the munler of the king's fair young nephew, Prince Arthur, la n most admirable exetdse on the lower tones of the voice. It exhibits a sort of descending, or antl-cl!max, the words, o (jrave, being pronounced in the low- est tones we can command. It must be delivered In an earnest whisper ; but as this whisper must be heard by the entire audience, great force must be added to these low tones. None but good readers and the best orators can do this well ; but these notes are of great Importance, and in the hands of a well-practiced speaker or reader, they are a source of much pleasing variety.] K. John. Como hither, Hubert. 0, my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh Tliere is a sour counts thee her creditor, And, with advantage, means to pay thj' love. And, ray good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say — But I will fit it with some better time. By heav'n, Hubert, I'm almost ashamed To say what good respect I have of thee. Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt have — and creep time ne'er so slow, Yet it shall come for me to c) thee good: I had a thing to say, — but let it go ; The sun is in the heav'n, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of th^ world, Is all too wanton and too full of gauds ^^^'^ W-*- To give me audience. If the midnight bell Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth Sound one unto the drowsy race of nig^t ; i.alone, i^wfj^^ 284 THE SIXTH READER, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of wordg Then in despite of broad-eyed, watchful day, I would into thy bosonfpaur my thoughts. But, ah I I will, not— yet I love thee well, And by my troth, I think thou lov'st mo well. Euh. So well, that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act By heav'n I'd do it. K. John. Do I not know that thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, tiirow thine eye On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way, And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me. Dost thou understand mo? Thou art his keeper. -Sm6. And I'll keep him so. That he shall not offend your majesty. K. John. Death, Euh. My lord? JST. John. A grave. Evb. He shall not live. -BT. John. Enough. I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee ; Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee : Remember. Shaxspba.sk 17. STRICTUg ES^ON WILLIAM PITT. '. O IR, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate, ^ while It was carried on with calmness and decency, by men who do not suier the ardor of opposition to cloud tl.oir reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred to answer the gentleman who declaimed against the bill with Buch fluency of rhetoric, and such vehemence of aesture- who charged the advocate for the expedients now proposed ,**MJ ORATORICAL. 285 with having no regard to any interest but tlieir own, and with making laws only to consume paper, and threatened them with the defection of their adherer.ts, and the Ic,«s of then- influence, upon this new discovery „f tlieir folly and their ignorance. 2. Nor, sir, I do now answer him for any other purpose than to remind him how little the clamors of rage and th potulancy of invectives contribute to the purposes for which this assembly is called together; how little the discovery of truth IS promoted, and the security of the nation estab- l>8bed by pompous diction and theatrical emotions. For- midable sounds and furious declamation, confident assertions and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexperienced ; and, perhaps, the gentleman may have contracted his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own a^o than with such as have had more opportunities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating tlieir sentiments. ° 3 If the heat of his temper, sir, would suffer him to attend to those whose age and long acquaintance with business give them an indisputable right to deference and superiority he would learn, in time, to reason rather than declaim, and to prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of facts to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which may disturb the imagination for a moment, but which leave no lasting impression on the mind. 4. He will learn, sir, that to accuse- and to prove are very different; and that reproaches, unsupported by evidence aff.c* only the character of him that utters them. Excursions (,L fancy and flights of oratory are, indeed, pardonable in young men, but in no other; and it would surely contribute more even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to' Bpeak (that of depreciating the conduct of the administration) to prove the inconvenience and injustice of this bill than' harely to assert them, with whatever n.ugnificen.e o^= Ian- ffuuge, or appearance of zeal, hondity, or cnn.passion. 8lK ROBKKT WaLPVLK. 286 THB SIXTH HEADER. Iv^V'Uv'Im •1 u»^ ill MII«W« 18. REPLY OP WILLIAM PITT— 1741. [William Pitt, first Earl of Chatham, has generally b(;cn n gardcd ng th« most powerful orator of modem times. He certainly ruled the British R'nate as no man has ever ruled over a great deliberative assembly. His success, uo doubt, was in part owing to extraordinary personal advantages. Sudi wa the power of his oyo that ho often cowed dowu au antagonist iu the midst o( Is speech, and threw him into utter confusion by a glance of scora or eon- i.empt Whenever he rose to speak his countenance glowed with animution. His voice was clear and fulL His lowest whisper was distinctly heard ; his middle notes were of exceeding sweetness ; and wlicn he elevated his voice lo »y\\ its highest pitch, the house was 'completely filled with the rich volume of (j Bound. The effect was a^vful, except when he wished to cheer and aniin.'itc,— then he had spirit-stirring notes which were perfectly irresistible. The Urst Bound of his voice in the following reply is said to have terrified Sir It Walpole, who exclaimed, " We must muzzle that terrible cornet of horse." Sir Robert offered to promote Mr. Pitt in the army provided he gave up hl» seat in Parliament. Every speech of Lord Chatham la worth the attention ol the student of oratory.] S' IIR, — The atrocious crime of being a young man, wliicli the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and deceiicy, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny, but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that num ber who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely age may boctmm justly contemptible if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to pre- vail when passions have subsided. ^tU">i 2. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a f\uv>>thousand errors, continues still to blunde r, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should Secure him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as ue has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself I'or money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remainder of hii life iu the ruin of his country. .£«mj ORATORICAL 287 8. But youth, sir, is not my only crime, I have boon accnsod of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and languaf^oa of other men. In the first sonse, sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned to be de- ipised. 4. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this genleman, I shall not lay myself under any rcatraint, nor very solicitously copy his direction or his mien, however matured by age, or modeled by experienced. If any man shall, by charging mo with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain, nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall any thing hut age restrain my resentment— age, which alw.-iys brings one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. 6. But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, \ am of opinion that if I had acted a borrowed part, I would have avoided their censure. But the heat that offended them is the ardor of conviction, that zeal for the service of my coun- try which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my cndeav- ors at whatever hazard to repel the aggression, and drag tho thief to justice, whoever may partake r>f their plunder. And if the honorable gentleman — 6. [At this point Mr. Pitt was called to order by Mr. Wyn- «ington, who went on to say : " No diversity of opinion can justify the, violation of decency and tht use of rude and violent expressions, dictated only by resentment, and uttered without regard to—" Here Mr. Pitt called to order and pre i ceeded thus :] Uv i-^JjT if^ ir ■^ 11^ m S88 THE SIXTH READER. 7. Sir, if this bo to preserve order, there ia no danger of indecency from the most licentious tongues. For whut calumny can be more atrocious, wiiat reproach more sovcro than that of speaking with regard to any thing but tvifh Older may sometimes be broken by passion or inadveitenrv Int v/ill hardly be re-established by a monitor like this, wli,i canuot govern his own passions while he is restraiiiiiHr iha in)petujsiiy of otluM's. 8. Happy would it be for mankind if every one knew his own province. We should not then see the same man at once a criminal and a judge ; nor would this gentleman assumo tlio right of dictating to others what he has not learned liinjHfvlf. Vhat I may return in some degree the favor ho intends me, I will advise him never hereafter to exert himself on the suLjVct of order ; but whenever he feels inclined to speak on such occasions, to reineml)er how he has now succeeded, and con- demn in silence what his censures will never amend. 19. HOTSPUR. • ' [This scene, where Hotspur, fresh from the field of his daring cxiiloln, vindicates himself from the charge of refusing to give up tlie prisoners of war should bo declaimed very rapidly, harshly, and sometimes with interruption and hesitation, as if the speaker were unable to give it .suflieieut forco. Tlie voice assumes the highest tone it can command consistently with iotio and boldness— though sometimes the low and forcible tone is used to »tf«*eM anger with uncommon energy.] ■jITY liege, I did deny no prisoners, *-*A But I remember when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Bieatldess and faint leaning upon my sword, '^^''' Canie there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Freeh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, '""""' clouw4.- Show'd like a stubble land at harvest horae>- 2. He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his lliuinb lie held ORATORICAL. S89 '■^lAJIj A pouncot-box, which ever aud anon ~t^U<>,K..l, Ho gave his nose, and tocjk 't away again ; — Wiio, therowith angry when it next came there, Took it in snuff— and still ho smiled and talk'd, And ap the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly. To bring a_Blovonly unhandsome corse 5»(>- Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 8 With many holiday and lady terms, He qnestion'd me ; among the rest demanded My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf, a^i^ I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold. To be so pester'd with a popinjay, W-wwU' Out of my grief and my impatience Answer'd ncglectingly, I know not what, 4. He should, or should not ;— for he made me mad, To see him shine so ^bri_8k, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman. Of guns, and drums, and wounds (heaven save the mark !) And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth i,^" Was parmacity for an inward bruise; v-^-M'. Aud that it was great pity, so it was. That villanous saltpetre should be digo-'d Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 5, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns He would himself have been ;, soldier. This bold, unjointed chat of his, my lord, ^•♦iJ.kja- I answer'd indirectly as I said. And 1 beseech you, let not his report ^^^ Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high majesty. Shjucsfkuui 9 I'-*! -I [■'•!• ft It ■ •A- . If ' "i 'J 1 290 THE SIXTH READER. 80. REPEAL OF TFIE STAMP ACT. FLord Chatham Is justly cndcariul to tivcry Aincrican for his ('lof(dcnt up, penla In thoir behalf against tho ap;gruM8l()iia of the Mother Country. FceMa and docilpit aa ho had become, he forgot hia ago uud suflerlugs. IIc8ux>J forth In tho proscnco of the whole empire to arraign as a breach of i1m« Con- •lltutlon every attempt to tax a pcoplo who had no representative In Parlift. rnent. It was the era of his snbliinest efforts in oratory. Ho denounced U« war with a prophetic sense of tho shame and disaster attending such a coi ilot Ills voice rang throughout every town and hamlet In tho Colonies, mid when ho proclaimed In Parliament : " I rejolco that America has rcsinted 1' millions of hearts on this side of the Atlantic swelled with a prouder deter- mlnation of resisting even to the end. J CIR,— A charge is brought against goiitlemcii sitting in this ^ house of giving birth to sedition in America. Several have spoken their sentiments with freedom against this un- happy act, — and that freedom iiaa become their crime. Sony I am to hear the liberty of speech in this house imputed as a crime. But the imputation sliall not discourage me. 2. The gentleman tells us, America is obstinate ; America is almost in open rebellion. I rejoice that America has resisted Three millions of people so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to let themselves be made slaves would have been fit instruments to make slaves of all the rest. 3. I come not here armed at all points with law cases and acts of Parliament, with statute-books doubled down in dogs' ears, to defend the cause of liberty, i would not de- bate a particular point of law with the gentleman. I know his abilities. But, for the defence of liberty, upon a general principle, upon a constitutional principle, it is a ground on whicli I stand firm — on which I dare meet any man. 4. Tiie gentleman boasts of his bounties to America. Are not those bounties intended finally for the benefit of this king- dom? If they are not, he has misapplied the national tieas- urea. He asks, When were the Colonies emancipated? I desire to know when they were made slaves ! But I dwell uot upon words. 6. I will be bold to affirm that the profits of Great ORATORICAL. 291 Bn'tain from the trade of tlio Colonics, throiijrl, uH |tfl branches, Hre two millions a year. This is tli<> fuiid tlmt carried you triumphantly thronsli the last war. This is the t)ric:o America piiys for her protection. And shiill a miserable financier como, with a boast that ho can fetch a pei)p('rcorn into the ex-^yi*^ jheiiner, by the loss of millions to the nation?* 6. A groat deal has been said, without doors, of tlio power, oi ihe strength of America. It is a topi that ought to bo can- "i liously meddled with. In a good cause, the force of thia^*' (ountry can crush America to atoms. I know the valor of your troops ; I know the skill of your officers. 7. But on this ground,— on the Stamp Art, when so many here will think it a crying injustice,— I am one who will lift up my hands against it. In such a canse, even your Buccess would be hazardous. America, if she fell, would fall like the strong man. She would embrace the pillars of the State, and pull down the Constitution along with her. Is this your boasted peace ? To sheathe the sword, not in its scabbard, but in the bowels of your countrymen? 8. Will you quarrel with yourselves, now the whole houso of Bourbon is united against you? Wliile France disturbs your fisheries in Newfoundland, embarrasses your slave-trade to Africa, and withholds from your subjects in Canada their property stipulated by treaty ? while the ransom for Manillaa is denied by Sjjain ? 9. The Americans have been wronged. They have been driven to madness by injustice. Will you punish Ihem for thr madness you have occasioned ? Rather let prudence and tern- per come first from this side I I will undertake for America hat she will follow the example. "Be to her faults a little blind; i Be to her virtues very kind." Let the Stamp Act be repealed ; and let the reason for the re- f I ; ,f fi ' * Mr. Nugent had .r.°.M thst a peppercorn in acknowledgment of th« right to tax America was of more value than millions without it. 292 THE SIXTH RE\.DER. peal— ftecawse the Act was founded on erroneous pnnciplea—he assigned. Let it be repealed absolutely, totally, and imine- ^***<^ly' Lord Chatham. 21. RECONCILIATION WITH AMERICA. [In regard to this speech, we find in the diary of Josiah Quincy, jr., the fol lowing memorandum : "Attended the debates in the House of Lords. Good fortune gave me one of the best places for hearing, and taking a few minutes. Lord Chatham rose like Marcellus. His language, voice, and gesture, were more pathetic than I ever saw or heard before, at the Bar or Senata He seemed like an old Roman Senator, rising with the dignity of age, yet speak- Iv-r with the fire of youth." Dr. Franklin, who was also present at the debate, said of this speech, that "he had seen, in the course of his life, sometimes eloquence without wisdom, and often wisdom witliout eloquence; in the present instance, he saw both united, and both, as he thought, in the highest degree possible."] A MERICA, my Lords, cannot be reconciled to this country -^ —she ought not to be reconciled— till the troops of Britain are withdrawn. How can America trust you, with the bay. onet at her breast? How can she suppose that you mean less than bondage or death ? I therefore move that an address be presented to his majesty, advising that immediate orders be dispatched to General Gage, for removing his majesty's forces from the town of Boston. 2. The way must be immediately opened for reconciliation. It will soon be too late. An hour now lost in allaying fer- ments in America may produce years of calamity. Never will I desert for a moment the conduct of this weighty busi- ness. Unless nailed to my bed by the extremity of sickness I will pursue it to the end. I will knock at the door of this sleeping and confounded ministry, and will, if possible, rouse them to a sense of their danger. 3. I contend not for indulgence, but for justice, to America. What is our right to persist in such cruel and vindictive acts against a loyal, respectable' people ? They say you have no right to tax them without their consent. They say truly ORATORICAL. 293 Representation and taxation n.ust go together ; they are in- Beparab e. I therofore urge and cor.jure your lor4.1iips imme diately to adopt this conciliating measme 4. If illegal violencns ha^e been, as it i^ said, conwnitted in Amenca, prepare the way-open the door of po.sibility--for acknowledgment and satisfaction ; but proved not to such ^uerc.on-such proscription : cease your indiscriminate inflic- lons ; ajnerce not thirty thousand ; oppress not three miUions.^""''*^ u-ntate them not to unappeasable rancor, for the fault of forty or fifty. Such severity of injustice must forever render incur- able the wounds you have inflicted. 5. What though you march from town to town, from pro- rmce to province? What though you enforce a temporary and local submission ; hovT shall ^^.u secure the obedience of the country you leave behind yo. ., your progress ? How grasp the dominion of eighteen iiundred miles of continent populous m numbers, strong in valor, liberty, and the means of resistance ? ^ t The spirit which now resists your taxation, in America i .8 the same which formerly opposed loans, benevolences ani M^-«. Bhip-money, in England ;-the same spirit which called all England on its legs, and, by the Bill of Rights, vindicated the English Constitution ;-the same spirit which established the great fundamental essential maxim of your liberties, that no Dubject of England .shall be taa,ed but by his own consent. 8. This glorious Whig spirit animates three millions in America, who prefer poverty, with liberty, to gilded chains and sordid affluence ; and who will die in defence of their rights as men. What shall oppose this spirit, aided by the congenial flame glowing in the breast of every Whig in England I '"Tis liberty to liberty engaged," that they will delend themselves, their families, and their country. In this great cause they are immovably allied : it is the 'alliance ot aod and nature,-iminutable, eternaK-fixed as the firmamcnj ot Heaven. _ ikiJU. OF Chatham. 294 THE SIXTH READER. 23. THE AMERICAN WAR. [Charles James Fox, bom in England, 1729; died, ms. Hia style o< oratory has been compared by some critics to Demosthenes'. In his Ian guage Mr. Fox studied simplicity, strength, and boldness. "Give me an elegant Latin word," said he, "and a homely Saxon one, and I wiU chooso the latter." Another of his sayings was this: "Did the speech read well «rhen reported; if so it was a bad one." These two remarks give us the secret of his style as an orator. The life of Fox has this lesson for young men: that early habits of reck lessness and vice can hardly fail to destroy the influence of the most splendid abilities and the most humane and generous dispositions.] VljrE are charged with expressing joy at the triumphs of » 1 America. True it is that, in a former session, I pro- claimed it as my sincere opinion, that if .the ministry had suc- ceeded in their first scheme on the liberties of America, the liberties of this country would have been at an end. Think- ing this, as I did, in the sincerity of an honest heart, I re- joiced at the resistance which the ministry had met to their attempt. That great and glorious statesman, the late Earl of Chatham, feeling for the liberties of his native . country, thankfc-i God that America had resisted. 2. But, it seems, " all the calamities of the country are to be ascribed to the wishes, and the joy, and the speeches, of opposition." Oh, miserable and unfortunate ministry! Oli, blind and incapable men 1 whose measures are framed with so little foresight, and executed with so little firmness, that they not only crumble to pieces, but bring on the ruin of their country, merely because one rash, weak, or wicked man, in the House of Commons, makes a speech against them 1 3. But who is he who arraigns gentlemen on this side of the House with causing, by their inflammatory speeches, the mis- fortunes of their country? The accusation comes from one whose inflammatory harangues have led the nation, step by Btep, from violence to violence, in that inhuman, unfeeling pysteni of blood and massacre, which every honest man nius°t detest, which every good mau muwt abhor, and every wisd man condeum 1 ORATORICAL. 295 f4Vw_ 4. And this man imputes the guilt of such measures to those who had all along foretold the consequences ; who had prayed, entreated, and supplicated, not only for America, but for the credit of the nation and its eventual welfare, to arrest the hand of power, meditating slaughter, and directed by in- justice I 6. What was the consequence of the sanguinary measure* recommended in those bloody, inflammatory speeches ? Though ii Boston was to be starved, though Hancock and Adams were « proscribed, yet at the feet of these very men the Parliament of Great Britain was obliged to kneel, flatter, and cringe; W«wi^ flDd, as it had the cruelty at one time to denounce vengeance against these men, so it had the meanness afterwards to im- plore their forgiveness. 6. Shall he who called the Americans " Hancock and his crew,"— shall he presume to reprehend any set of men for in- ^^^^^^ flamraatory speeches? It is this accursed American war that has led us, step by step, into all our present misfortunes and national disgraces. 7. What was the cause of our wasting forty millions of money, and sixty thousand lives ? The American war I What was it that produced the French rescript and a French war? The American war I What was it that produced the Spanish manifesto and Spanish war? The American war I What was it that armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the arguments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets? The American war I For what are we about to incur an addi- tional debt of twelve or fourteen millions? This accursed, cruel, diabolical American war 1 j. 88. THE FOREIGN POLICY OF WASHINGTON. TIOW infinitely superior must appear the spirit and princi- ^^ pies of General Washington, in his late address to Con- gress, compared with the policy of modern European courts 1 396 THE SIXTH READER. |A*Aot^ Illustrious man I-derivin- honor less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind 1 Grateful to France for the assistance received from her, in that great con. test which secured the independence of America, he yet aid uot choose to give up the system of neutrality in her favor 2 Having once laid down the line of conduct most propor to be pursued, not all the insults and provocations of the French minister, Genet, could at all put him out of his way or bend him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create aston^ ishraent, that, placed in circumstances so critical, and filb'ng a station 80 conspicuous, the character of Washington should never once have been called in question ;-that he should in no one instance, have been accused either of improper inso- lence, or of mean submission, in his transactions with foreign nations. ° 3. It has been reserved for him to run the race of glory without experiencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career. The breath of censure has not dared to im. peach the {urity of his conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise its malignant glance to the elevation of his virtues. Such haa been the transcendent merit and the unparalleled fate of this illustrious man f 4. How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he con- sider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct or madness of an individual, by involving a whole continent in the horrors of war? No; he contented himself with pro. curing satisfaction for the insult, by causing Genet to be re- called ; and thus, at once, consulted his own dignity and the interests of his country. 5. Happy Americans 1 wnile the whirlwind flies over ono quarter of the globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, you remain protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues, and the wisdom of your government. Separated from Europe by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of those preju- dices and passions which convert the boasted seats of civiliza- tion into scenes of horror and bloodshed. You profit by the OBATORIOAL. S97 folly and madness of the contending nations, and afford, in your more congenial clime, .an asylum to those blessings and virtues which they wantonly contemn, or wickedly exclude from their bosom I 6. Cultivating the arts of peace under the influence of free- dom, J )'i advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and distino tiun ; and if, by any accident, you should be compelled to tako part in the preser' unhappy contest,— if you should find it necessary to avenge insult, or repel injury,— the world will bear witness to the equity of your sciitimeuts and the modera- tion of your views ; and the success of your arms will, no doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your cause 1 fox 24. "A POLITICAL PAUSE." SAYS the honorable gentleman : " But we must pause !" What I must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out — feer best blood be spilt — her treasures wasted — that you may make an experiment? Put yourselves, ! that you would put yourselves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors that you excite. 2. In former wars a man might, at least, have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance in his mind the impres- sions which a scene of carnage and of death must inflict. But if a man were present now at tiie field of slaughter, and were to inquire for what they were fighting, — " Fighting 1" would be the answer ; " they are not fighting ; they are pausing." 8. "Why is that man expiring? Why is that other writh- ing with agoi,y? What means this implacable fury?" The answer must be, — "You are quite wrong, sir; you deceive yourself— they are not fighting— do not disturb them — they are merely pausing 1 This man is not expiring with agony— that man is not dead — he is only pausing 1 4, "Lord help you, sir! thoy are not angry' with one an. other • they have now no cause of quarrel; but their countrj 298 THE SIXTH READER. thinks that there should be a p;uir,e. All that you see, sir, is nothing like fiyliting— there is no hurnt), nor cruelty, nor bl,,ud fihed ill it, whatever ; it is nothing more than a political pauso ! It is merely to try an experiment— to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than heretofore ; and iu the mean time we have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship I" 5. And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates of order ? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize the world— to destroy order— to trample on re- jjJfloirK.ligion— to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of I noble sentiment, but the affections of social nature ; and in the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devasta. tion all around vou. « ** JrOX ^\ > 25. THE AMERICAN WAR DENOUNCED. [Mr. Pitt was the second son of the great Lord Chatham. He entered Par- Uament at the age of twentyrtwo, and became virtually leader of the Honss and Prime Minister at twenty-four. As a debater, his speeches are logical and argumentative. They arc stamped with the strongest marks of orrgin- ality. His eloquence, occasionally rapid, electric, and vehemant, was always chaste, winning, and persuasive— not awing into acquiescence, but arguing into conviction. UnaUured by dissipation and unswayed by pleasure, he never sacrificed the national treasure to one, nor the national interest to the other. With Chatham, Burke, and Fox, Pitt stands, by universal consent, at the head of British eloquence.] /^ ENTLEMEN have passed the highest eulogiums on the VX American war. Its justice has been defended in the most fervent manner. A noble lord, in the heat of his zeal, has called it a holy war. For my part, although the honor- able gentleman who made this motion, and some other gentle- men, have been, more than once, in the course of the debate, severely reprehended for calling it a wicked and accursed war, I am persuaded, and would affirm, that it was a most accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, unjust, and diabolical war ! 2. It was conceived in injustice ; it was nurtured aud i;*:*u|4i ORATORICAL. 209 broaght forth in folly ; its footstops were marked with blood, Blauffhtor, persecution, and devastation ;— in truth, every thing which went to constitute moral depravity and human turpitude were to be found in it. It was pregnant with misery of every kind. 'i, 3. The mischief, however, recoiled on the unliappy people i.i this country, who were made the instruments by which tho wicked purposes of the authors of the war were effected. The nation was drained of its best blood, and of its viti.l re- sources of men and money. The expense of the war was enormous,— much beyond any former experience. 4. And yet, what has the British nation received in return ? Nothing but a series of ineffective victories, or severe de- feats ;— victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph over our brethren, whom we would trample down and destroy; •victories, which filled the land with mourning for the lof^a of dear and valued relatives, slain in the impious cause of en- forcing unconditional submission, or with narratives of the glorious exertions of men struggling in the holy eause of liberty, though struggling in the absence of all the facilities and advantages which are in general deemed the aecessary concomitants of victory and success. 6. Where was the Englishman, who, on reading the narra- tives of those bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain from lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in such a cause ; or from weeping, on whatever t^i^e victory might be ieclared ? «r t. William Put. 26. ON AN ATTEMPT TO COERCE HIM TO RESIGN. [Certain resolutions were passed by tlie House of Commons, in 1784, for Ihe removal of his Majesty's ministers, at the Lead of whom was Mr. Pitt. Theoe resolutions, however, his Majesty had not thought proper to comply with. A reierenee having been made to them, Mr. Pitt spoke as foUows, in reply to Mr. Fox :] pAN anything that I have said, Mr. Speaker, subject me to V be branded with the imputation of preferring my per^ too THE SIXTH READER, flonal situation to the public happinesa? Sir, I have declared, again and again, Only prove to me that there is any 'reason able hope-show mo but the most distant prospect-that .nv resignation will, at all contribute to restore peace and ha J ness to the country, and I will instantly resign. 2 But, sir, I declare, at the same time, I will not be in uced to resign as a preliminary to negotiation. I wIU nut bandon this situation, in order to throw myself upon tho mercy of that right honorable gentleman. He calls me ^ 3. Sir it is because I win not become a mere nominal min. ister of his creation,-it is because I disdain to become the puppet of that right honorable gentleman,_that I will not resign ; neither shall his contemptuous expressions provoke me to resignation :, my own honor and reputation I never will- resign. 4. Let this house beware'd" suffering any individual to in- volve his own cause, and to interweave his own interests in the resolutions of the House of Commons. The dignity of the house 18 forever appealed to. Let us beware that it is not tho dignity of any set of men. Let us beware that personal prejudices have no share in deciding these great constitutional questions. 5. The right honorable gentleman is possessed of those en- chanting arts whereby he can give grace to deformity. He holds before your eyes a beautiful and delusive ima^^e - he pushes It forward to your observation ; but, as sure as vou embrace it, the pleasing vision will vanish, and this fair phau .om of liberty will be succeeded by anarchy, confusion, and rum to the Constitution. For, in truth, sir, if the constitu tional independence of the crown is thus reduced to the very verge of annihilation, where is the boasted equipoise of the Uonstitution? 6. Dreadful, therefore, as the conflict is, my conscience mj duij, my fixed regard for the Constitution of our ancestors. OBATORIOAL. 801 maintain roe still in this arduous situation. It is not any proud contempt, or deflauce of the coii8tituti nounce to be incomparable ; and, in short, as wanting nothin. ,to recommend it but a slight foundation in truth. ° 5. "True philosophy," says my honorable friend "nili always continue to lead men to virtue by the instrument ality of their conflicting vices. The virtues, where moro than one exists, may live harmoniously together; but tlie vices bear mortal antipathy to one another, and, 'therciuie furnish to the mpral engineer the power by which lie can make each keep the other under control." 6. Admirable I but, upon this doctrine, the poor man who has but one single vice must be in a very bad way. No fuL crum, no moral power, for effecting his cure f Whereas his more fortunate neighbor, who has two or more vices in his composition, is in a fair way of becoming a very virtuous member of society. I wonder how my learned friend would like to have this doctrine introduced into his domestic estab- lishment. 1. For instance, suppose that I discharge a servant because he IS addicted to liquor, I could not venture to recommend him ti my honorable and learned friend. It might be the poor man's only fault, and therefore clearly incorricrible ; but if I ad the good fortune to find out that he wa« ^iL.. adlicted to stealing, might I not, with a safe conscienc- ■- -,u ,, ... to my learned friend with a strong recommendation, saying "I send you a man whom I know to be a drunkard ; but I am happy to assure you he is also a thief: you cannot do better than employ hun ; you will make his drunkenness counteract hi« ':^^--vy. CANMNa. mAM- ORATOBICaL. 805 80. "MEASURES N< T MEN." TF I am pushed to tho wall, find forced to speak my opiulun, 1 I have no disguise nor renervation :— I d. tliink that this i8 ii time when the udniinistration of the government ought to lie in the ablrst and fittest hands ; I do not think the hands in which it is now placed answer to that description. ?, I do nof ^l•etend to conceal in what quarter I think that fltn-.'ss most eminently resides ; I do not subscribe to the doc- triucs uliich have been advanced, that in times like tho present, the fitness of individuals for their political situation ig no part of the consideration to which a member of Parlia- ment may fairly turn his attention. 3. I know not a more solemn or important duty that a raem- ber of Parliament can have to discharge, tlian by givin<>- at fit seasons a free opinion upon the character and qualities of pulv lie men. Away with the cant of " measures, not men I" the idle supposition that it is the harness, and not the horses, that draw the chariot along I 4. No, sir ; if the comparison must be made, if the distinc- tion must be taken, men are every thing, measures compara- tively nothing. I speak, sir, of times of dilEculty and danger ; of times when systems are shaken, when precedents and gen eral rules of conduct fail, 5. Then it is, that not to this or that measure,— however prudently devised, however blameless in execution,— but to the energy and character of individuals, a State must bo indebted for its salvation. Then it is that kingdoms rise or fall in proportion as they are upheld, not by well-meant endeavors (laudable though they may be), but by commanding, overawing talents, — by able men. 6. And what is the nature of the times in which we live? Look at France, and see what we have to cope with, and con- sider what has made her what she is. A man I You will tell me tiiat she was great, and powerful, and formidable before the days of Bonaparte's government, that he found in hef If " I 806 THE SIXTH HEADER. great physical and moral resources ; that he had but to turn thetn to account. True, and he did so. 1. Compare the situation in which he found France with that to which he has raised her. I am no panegyrist of Boiiii. parte ; but I cannot shut my eyes to the superiority of hU talents, to the amazing ascendency of his genius. Tell me not of his measures and his policy. It is his genius, his character that keeps the world in awe. 8. Sir, to meet, to check, to curb, to stand up against him we want arras of the same kind. I am far from objecting to tlie large military establishments which are proposed to you. I vote for them, with all my heart. But, for the purpose of coping with Bonaparte, one great, commanding spirit is worth them all. Camming 81. DANGER OF DELAY. [So completely had Lord Brougham wrought up his own feelings and those of his hearers at the close of this speech, that it was nothing strained or unnatural— it was in fact almost a matter of course— for him to sink down upon one of his knees at the table where he stood, when he uttered the last words—" / supplicate you, reject not this bill." But the sacrifice wa.s too great |or that proud nobility. It was rejected by a majority oiforly-ont^ of whom wenty-one belonged to the board of bishops of the Established Church.] MY Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which I feel for the event of this debate, because I know full well that the peace of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot look without dismay at the rejection of the measure. But grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary de^ feat — temporary it can only be ; for its ultimate and even epeedy success is certain. Nothing can now stop it. 2. Do not sufiFer yourselves to be persuaded that even if the present ministers were driven from the helm, any one could steer you through the troubles which surround you without reform. But our successors would take .up the task under circumstances far less auspicious. Under them you would ba OBATOBICAL. 307 fain to grant a bill compared with which the one we now proffer you is moderate indeed. 3. Hear the parable of the Sibyl ; for it conveys a wise and wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes of wisdom and peace. The price she asks is reasonable ; to restore the fran- chise, which without any bargain you ought voluntarily to give ; you refuse Ler teraia — her moderate terms — she dark- ens the porch no longer. 4. But soon, for you cannot do without her wares, you call her back ; again she comes, but with diminished treasures ; the leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless bands — iu part defaced with characters of blood. But the prophetic maid had risen in her demands — it is Parliament by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is suffrage by the mil- lion 1 5. From this you turn away indignant, and for the second time she departs. , Beware of her third coming : for the treasure you must have, and what price she may next demand who shall tell ? It may even be the mace which rests upon that woolsack. What may follow your course of obstinacy, if persisted iu, I cannot take upon me to predict, nor do I wish to conjecture. 6. But this I know full well, that as sure as man is mortal, and to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at which you must purchase safety and peace ; nor can you ex- pect to gather in another crop than they did who went before you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry jf^iuft^ of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. T. But among the awfiil considerations that now bow down my mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent above the rest. You are the highest judicature in the realm ; you sit here as judges, decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appual. It is a judge's first duty never to pronounce sen- tence, in the most trifling case, without hearing. Will yoa make thin the exception? 808 THE SIXTH BEADEB. 8. Are you really prepared to determine but not to henr the mighty cause upon which a nation's hopes and fears haii''? You are. Then beware of your decision ! Rouse nut, J beseech you, a peace-loving-, but resolute people : alienate not from j^our body the affections of a whole empire. 9. As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my country, as the faithful servant of my 80verci assist with your utmost efforts in preserving the peace and upholding and perpetuating the constitutiori. Therefore I pray and exhort you not to reject this measure. By all you hold most dear — by all the ties that bind every one of us to our common order and to our common country, I solemnly adjure you — I warn you — I implore you — yea, ou my bended knees, I supplicate you — reject not this bill. LoBD Bbougeam. 83. PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. [Lord Brougham, bom in Edinburgh, 1779.— He was appointed Lord Cian- cellor in 1830. Tho bill on Parliamentary Reform, after having passed the Commons with a large majority, was taken to the House of Lords, the greater number of whom were known to be bitterly opposed to the measurt. The great body of tlie nation were equally resolved that it should pass: petitions came in by thousands from every part of the kingdom, and the feel- ing seemed universal ^'■through Parliament, or over Parliament, it must bo carried," For five nights it was discussed in the House of Lords with "a ^o<^«At bMU, force, and variety of argument, which for historical, constitutioniil, and classical information, was never surpassed." Lord Brougham reserved him- ■ self for the fifth night, and after Lord Eldon had spoken, with all the weight of his age and authority, against the bill, the Lord Chancellor came down from the woolsack, to reply in the most powerful speech of the kind that hsd ever been delivered in the House of Lords. For the characteristics of his oratory, see the article on '■' Canning and Lord Brougham." In the following «xtract a rare opportunity is afforded for rhetorical effect. The time is slow, utterance distinct at the beginning. Pure voice, which, as the student ad- vances to the parable, wiU increase in force and quality to the orotund— not the climax of orotund until the student comes to the last paragraph. Tlim with great earnestness, begin slow, with much feeling in the utterance— and «£ you near the v^lose, orotund climax — slow lime — high pitch—long pauses— as if the feeling was ahnost overpowering. Close with elevated, imploring gestures.] ORATORICAL. 309 rpHOSE portentous appearances, the growth of later times, 1 those figures that stalk abroad, of unknown stature and strange form— unions of leagues, and musterings of men in myriads, and conspiracies against the exchequei^whence do tliey spring, how come they to haunt our shores? What., power engendered these uncouth shapes, wliat multiplied tiie "^"^ ffioistrous births till they people the land ? Trust me, th« game power which called into frightful existence, and armed with resistless force the Irish volunteers, 1182— the same power which rent in twain your empire, and raised up thir- teen republics— the same power wbich created the Catholic Association, and gave it Ireland for its portion. 2. Wliat power is that? Justice denied— rights withhetd— wrongs perpetrated— the force which common injuries lend to millions— the wickedness of using the sacred trust of govern- ment as a means of indulging private caprice— the idiocy of treating Englishmen like the children of the South Sea Islands -the frenzy of believing, or making believe, that the adulta/'^ of the nineteenth century can be led like children, or driven like barbarians I 3. This it is that has conjured up the strange sights at 9 which we now stand a^gliasU. And shall we persist in the fatal error of combating the giant progeny instead of extir- pating the execrable parent ? Good God 1 Will men never learn wisdom, even from their own experience? Will they never believe until it be too late, that the surest way to pre- " vent immoderate desires being formed, aye, and unjust de- T'*^ mands being forced, is to grant in due season the m^oderate requests of justice? ^ 4. You stand, my lords, on the brink of a great event ; yoi are in the crisis of a whole nation's hopes and fears. An awful importance hangs over your decision. Pause ere you plunge 1 Tl>ere may not be any retreat I It behooves you to shape your C(juduct by the mighty occasion. They tell you not to be afraid of personal consequences in discharging your duty. I, too, would ask you to banish all fears ; but above 810 THE SIXTH RBADEB. «■■: all, that most mischievous, most despicable fear—the fear o| being thought afraid. 6. If you won't take counsi 1 from me, take example from the statesmaji-like conduct of the noble duke (Wellington), -vvliile you also look back, as you may with satisfaction, upon your own. He was told, and you were told, that the impa- tience of Ireland for equality of civil riglits was partial, tlit clamor transient, likely to pass away with its temporary occa^ CtAuv sion, and that yielding to it would be conceding to intimidation. 6. I recollect hearing this topic urged within this hall in 1828 J less regularly I heard it than I have now done, for I belonged not to your number— but I heard it urged in the selt^ same terms. The burden of the cry was : It is no time for concession ; the people are turbulent, and the association dan- gerous. That summer passed, and the ferment subsided not- autumn came, t^ut brought not the precious fruit of peace-orl the contrary, all Ireland was convulsed with the unprecedented conflict which returned the great chief of the Catholics to sit in a Protestant Parliament. 7. Winter bound the earth in chains, but it controlled not ^*M. the popular fury, whose surge, more deafening than the tern- pest, lashed the frail bulwarks of law founded upon injustice. Spring came ; but no ethereal mildness was its harbinger or followed in its train : the Catholics became stronger by every month's delay, displayed a deadlier resolution, and proclaimed ■ their wrongs in a tone of louder defiance than before. And what course did you, at this moment of greatest excitement, and peril, and menace, deem it most fitting to pursue ? 8. Eight months before you had been told how unworthy it \eould be to yield when men clamored and threatened. No change had happened in the interval, save that the clamors were become far more deafening, and the threats, beyond com- parison, more overbearing. What, nevertheless, did your lordships do? Your duty: for you despised the cuckoo-note of the season, "Be not intimidated." the Irish demanded, and you saved your country granted uU thai ^ ORATORICAL. 311 9. Was there in April a sinjvio argument advanced which had not held good in July? None, absolutely none, except the DOW height to which the danger of long delay had risen, and the increased vehemence with which justice was de' Handed ; and yet the appeal to your pride, which had pre- vailed in July, was in vain made in April, and you wisely and Patriotically granted what was asked, and ran the risk of being supposed to yield through fear. But the history of Catholic claims conveys another important lesson. 10. Though in right, and policy, and justice, the measure of relief could not be too ample, half as much as was received . with little gratitude when so late wrung from you, would have'^'''* been hailed, twenty years before, with delight; and even the^'^'' July preceding the measure would have been received as a boon freely given, which, I fear, was taken with but sullen satisfaction in April as a right long withheld. 11. Yet, blessed be God, the debt of justice, though tardily, was at length paid, and the noble duke won by it civic honors, which rival nis warlike achievements in lasting bright- ness—than which there can be no higher praise. What, if he had still listened to the topics of intimidation and inc'onsis- . i „ i,:_u i-_j -11. , - o*. tency^ which had scared his predecessors? He might have proved his obstinacy, and Ireland would have been sacrificed. Lord Bbocghajc. 'fr- 83. THT ESTABLISHED CHURCH IN IRELAND. AF all the institutions now existing in the civilized world, V/ the Established Church of Ireland seems to me the most absurd. Is there any thing else like it? Was there ever »Dy thing else likt, it ? The world is full of ecclesiastical establishments. Bjjt such a portent as this Church of Ireland 18 nowhere to be found. 2. Look round the continent of Europe. Ecclesiastical egtablishraents from the White Sea to the Mediterranean, 312 THE SIXTH READER. P occleeiastical establishments from the Wolga to the Atlantic- but nowhere the church of a small minority enjoying exclusive establishment. ^ 3. Look a,t America 1 There you have all forms of Chris. tianity, from Mormoiiism— if you call Mormonism Christianity —to Komanism. In some places you have the voluntaiv system. In some you have several religions connected with the State. In some you have the solitary ascendency of a single church. 4. But nowhere, from the Arctic Circle to Cape Horn, do you find the church of a small minority exclusively established. In one country alone— in Ireland alone— is to be seen tlie spectacle of a community of eight millions of human beings, with a church which is the church of only eight hundred thousand I 6. Two hundred and eighty-five years has this church been at work. What could have been done for it in the way of authority, privileges, endowments, which has not been done? Did any other set of bishops and priests in the world evei receive so much for doing so little ? 6. Nay, did any other set of bishops and priests in the world ever receive half as much for doing twice as much ? And what have we to show for all this lavish expenditure? What, but the most zealous Roman Catholic population on the face of the earth ? On the great, solid mass of the Roman Catholic population you have njade no impression whatever. There they are, us they were ages ago, ten to one against the mera- ,bers of your Established Church. Explain this to me. I gpeak to you, the zealous Protestants on the other side of the house. Explain this to me on Protestant principles. 7. !f I were a Roman Catholic, I could easily account for the phonomenon. If I were a Roman Catholic, I should con- tent myself with saying that the mighty |?and and the out Btretchcd arm had been put forth, according to the promise, in defence of the unchangeable Church ; that He, who, in the old time, turned into blessings the curses of Balaam, and smote 84. SATIRICAL ORATORICAL. 813 the host of Sennacherib, had signally confounded the arts and the power of heretic statesmen. 8. But what is the Protestant to say? Is this a miracle, that we should stand aghast at it ? Not at all. It is a result which human prudence ought to have long ago foreseen, and long ago averted. It is the natural succession of effect to cause. A church exists for moral ends. A church exists to be loved, to be reverenced, to be heard with docility, to reign ii, the understandings and hearts of men. A church which is abhorred is useless, or worse than useless ; and to quarter a / hostile church on a conquered people, as you would quarter a soldiery, is, therefore, the most absurd of mistakes. T. B. MxoxviXT. LA^J YK U. SATIRICAL EXTRACT PROM A SPEECH OF MR. CANNING ON THE ADDRESS (1835). [Satire demands a good-natured, dignified earneatness ; rising or falling cir- ctanflexes on emphatic words depending upon positive or negative utterances of irony or satire. The second sentence in the extract below affords a fine opportunity for these circumflexes. In the quotation the voice should be raised, and the quotation uttered as if a particular point was to be made All "Dennis's" speeches should be given with a foolish assuranco-which always produces exactly the opposite conclusion from what ia intended. Then in the application, apply the circumflexe8.-See Remarks on Inflection and Cir- cumflex.] T NOW turn to that other part of the honorable and learned A gentleman's (Mr. Brougham) speech, in which he acknowl- edges his acquiescence in the passages of the Address, echoing- the satisfaction felt at the success of the liberal commercia principles adopted by this country, and at the steps taken fo. recognizing the new States of America. 2. It does happen, however, that the honorable and learned gentleman, being not unfrequently a speaker in this house, nor very concise in his speeches, and touching occasion- illy, as he proceeds, on almost every subject within the range if his imagination, as well as making some observations on U : '! r t 814 THE SIXTH READER. the matters on hand, and having at differf>nt periods prop jscd and supported every innovation of which the law or constitu- tion of the country is susceptible,— it is impossible to irirun rate, withoirt appearing to borrow from him. 3. :^ither, therefore, we must remain forever locked up as in a northern winter, or we must break our way out by some node already suggested by the honorable and learned geutle- nan: and then he cries out, "Ah, I was there before youl That is what I told you to do ; but, as you would not do it then, you have no right to do it now," 4. In Queen Anne's reign there lived a very sage and able critic, named Dennis, who in his old age was the prey of a strange fancy, that he had himself written all the good things in all the good plays that were acted. Every good passage that he met with in any author he insisted was his o\vn. "It is none of his," Dennis would always say ; " it is mine." 5. He went one day to see a new tragedy. Nothing par- ticularly good, to his taste, occurred, till a scene in which a great storm was represented. As soon as he had heard the thunder rolling overhead, he exclaimed, "That's my thunder!" So it is with the honorable and learned gentleman— rV's all his thunder! It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thunder. 6. But it is due to him to acknowledge that he does not claim every thing. He will be content with the exclusive merit of the liberal measures relating to trade and commerce. Not desirous of violating his own principles, by claiming a monopoly of foresight and w'sdom, he kindly throws overboard to my honorable and learned friend (Sir J. Mackintosh) near him, the praise of South America. 1. I should like to know whether, in some degree, this also is not his thunder. He thinks it right in itself; but, lest we should be too proudj^if he approved our conduct in toto, he thinks it wrong in point of time. I diflFer from him essentially: A)r, if I pique myself on any thing in this affair, \i is on the time. 1% ORATORICAL. 816 8. That, at some time or other, States which had separated themselves from the mother-country, .should be admitted to tiio rank of independent nations is a proposition to which no pos- siblo dissent could be given. The whole question was one of time and mode. 9. There were two modes : one a reckless and headlong course, by which we might have reached our object at once, but at the expense of drawing upon us consequences not lightly to be incurred ; the other was more strictly guarded in point of principle ; so that, while we pursued our own interes* v we took care to give no just cause of' offence to other powers, while we acted in obedience to a sound and enlightened policy. Cahhiso. 85. DECLARATION OF IRISH RIGHTH. [Henry Grattan, born in Dublin, 1746 ; died, 1820. Tlie history of tliks .v^-.a man. from Ins entrance into the Irish Parliament, in 1775, down to its extinc- tion, is the history of Ireland's mos. splendid epoch. He achieved her trU nmpl,, estabhshed her rights, and, at the hazard of his life, confronted her enemies. His voice penetrated the recesses of the treasury, and peculation ceased. He revealed the abuses against the Church, and religion blessed him. He disdained the gold, and defied the vengeance of the Castle and its power, and its minions cowered before him. Ever^ measure which tenued to the digmty or prosperity of Ireland, he either originated or advanced. Free rade, legislative independence, and final judicature, head a list of boons and nuinplis exclusively his own ; andhe was an earnest of the entire emancip;^. tionof Catholics from the shameful and outrageous disabiUtiea imposed on iiimhy EngUBh lif>er(Uiti/ and toUriinct.'"] OIR, I have entreated an attendance on this day, that you ^ might, in the most public manner, deny the claim of the British Parliament to make law for Ireland, and with one voice lift up your hands agairst it. England now smarts under the lesson of the American war ; her enemies are a host pouring upon her from all quarters of the earth; her armies are dispersed; the sea is not hers; she has no minister no ally, no admiral, none in whom she long confides, and no gon. era! whom she has not disgraced ; the balance of her fate ia C**«A*. 3!^ 816 THia SIXTH /tEADER. in the hands of Irelanrl ; you are not only her last con- nection, — you are the only nation in Europe that is not her enemy, 2. Let corruption tremble ; but let the friends of liberty re- ioice at these means of safety, and this hour of redemptidii. You have done too much not to do more ; you have gone; tou far not to go on ; you have brought yourselves into tlnu situation iu which you must silently abdicate the rights of your country, or publicly restore them. Where is the freodom of trade f Where is the security of property ? Where is the liberty of the people? 3. I therefore say, nothing is safe, satisfactory, or honora- ble, nothing except a declaration of rights. WliAt I are you, with three hundred thousand men at your bock, with charters iu one hand and arras in the other, afraid to say you are a free people? If England is a tyrant, it is you who have made her so ; it is the slave that makes the tyrant, and then murmurs at the master whom he himself has constituted. 4. The British minister mistakes the Irish character ; had he intended to make Ireland a slave. ',3 should have kept her a beggar. There is no middle policy : win her heart by the restoration of her rights, or cut oflf the nation's right hand; greatly emancipate, or fundamentally destroy. We may talk plausibly to England, but so long as she exercises a power to bind this country, so long are the nations in a state of war; the claims of the one go against the liberty of the other, and the sentiments of the latter go to oppose those claims to the last drop of her blood. 6. The English opposition, therefore, are right; mere tradd will not satisfy Ireland. They judge of us by other great nations ; by the nation whose political life has been a struggle for liberty, — America! They judge of ug with a true knowledge and just deference for our character; that a country enlightened as Ireland, chartered as Ireland, armed as Ireland, and injured as Ireland, will be satisfied witfe uothing less thau liberty. i i OlATORICAL. 817 6. I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand my liberty. I do cull upon you, by the laws of the land and tlieir violation, by tlie instruction of eighteen centuries, by the arms, inspiration, and providence of the present moment, tell UH the rule by which we shall go ; ass.-rt the law of Ireland ; declare the liberty of the land. I will not be answered by a iiblic lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, speaking for the subject's freedom, am I to hear of faction. 1. I wish for nothing but to breathe, in this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be the ambition to break your chain, and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied so long as the meahest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British Aat.--*^ chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked,— he shall not be in iron. 8. And I do see the time is at hand, the spirit is gone forth, the declaration is planted ; and though great men hhonld apos' tatize, yet the cause will live ; and though the public speaker siK uld die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the boly man, will not die with the prophet, hut survive him. Gbattah. uM • m m 1. 1 86. REPLY TO MB. FLOOD, 1783. [At the time of thiB speech in the Irish Parliament, Flood and Grattan •Ithou-h previously friends, stood before the British public as rival leaders' A bitter animosity had arisen between them; and Grattan having unfortu- nately led the way in personality, by speaking of his opponent's "affectation of inflrnnty," Flood replied with f reat asperity, denouncing Grattan as "a mendicant patriot," who, "bought by his country for a sum of money, then «.kl his country for prompt payment." He also sneered at Grattan's " aping >t^u4« the style of Lord Chatham." To these taunts Grattan repUed in a speech an abridgment pf which wo here give.] rW'^'JW* TT is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame ■*■ me. I maintain my reputation in public and in private life. No man, who has not a bad character, can ever say that 818 THE BIXTH READER. aMi>4' (•*«-^. I deceived. No country can call me a ch«'at. But I will pup. po80 such a public clianictcr. I will suppose such a man tc have existence. I will b(;j^in with his character in his politj. cal cradle, aud I will follow him to the last stage of pi;Iitii;al dissolution. 2. I will suppose him, in the first stage of his life, to have been intemperate ; in the second, to have been corrupt ; and in the last, seditious ; that, after an envenomed attack on tlio persons and measures of a succession of viceroys, and after much declamation against their illegalities and their profusii^n, he took office, and became a supporter of government, wlien the profusion of ministers had greatly increased, and tlicir crimes multiplied beyond example. 3. Witli regard to the liberties of America, which were inseparable from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been an enemy, decided and unreserved ; that he voted against oer liberty, and voted, moreover, for an address to send four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans; that he called these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood jeith a metaphor in his mouth and a bribe in his pocket, a ihampioa against the rights of America, — of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the liberties of (naukind. 4. Tlius defective in every relationship, whether to consti- tution, coinmerce, and toleration, I will suppose this man to have added much private improbity to public crimes ; that his probity was like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt him and say : 5. Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your talents have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and per- Bonality which could have been justified onlj- by a supposition of virtue ; after a rank and clamorous opposition, you became, on a sudden, silent ; you were silent for seven years ; you were silent ou the greatest questions, and you were silent for money 1 you, the Americ say to your beai ORATORIC^ 819 6. You Hupportinl the uiiparalloled profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourts scandalouB ministry. You, sir, who manu- facture stage thundc against Mr. Edou for his anti-American principles, — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the immortal Hampden ;— you, sir, approved of the tyranny exer- cised against America, — and you, sir. voted four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting foi their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great principle, liberty! 7. But you found, at last, that the court had bought, but would not trust you. Mortified at the discovery, you try the Borry game of a trimmer iu your progress to the acts of au incendiary ; and observing, with regard to prince and people, the most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the suspicion of your sovereign by betraying tlie government, as you had sola the people. 8. Such has been your conduct, and at such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim 1 The merchant may say to you, the couHiitutionalist may say to you, the American may say to you, — and I, I now say, and say to your beard, air, — you are not an honest man ! Grattah. j.^ q ^'j ••«? ivfe / %^' 1 87. THE IRISH PARLIAMENT. THE Parliament of Ireland 1^-of that assembly T have a parental recollection. I sate by her cradle, — I followed uer hearse I In fourteen years she acquired for Ireland what you did not acquire for England in a century, — freedom of trade, independency of the legislature, independency of the judges, restoration of the final judicature, repeal of a perpet- ual mutiny bill, habeas corpus act, nullum tempus act, — a great work 1 8. You will exceed it, and I shall rejoice. I call my coun: Uli:. tf"'''''ir'1' ■;'if''!U iy»n. 1 320 THE SIXTH READER. tiymen to witness, if in that busiuoss I have compiomised the claims of my country, or temporized with the power of England ; but there was one thing which baffled the effort of the patriot, and defeated the wisdom of the Senate, — it was the folly of the theologian I 3. When the Parliament of Ireland rejected the Catholic petition, and assented to the calumnies then uttered against vhe Catholic body, on that day she voted the Union: if you should adopt a similar conduct, on that day you will vote the separation. Many good and pious reasons you may give ; many good and pious reasotis sJie gave ; and sho lies THERE, with her many good and pious reasons I 4. That the Parliament of Ireland should have entertained prejudices, I am not astonished; but that you, — that you, who have as individuals and as conquerors, visited a great part of the globe, and haie seen men in all their modifications, and Providence in all her ways, — that you, now, at this time of day, should throw up dikes against the Pope, and barriers against the Catholic, instead of uniting with that Catholic to throw up barriers against the French, this surprises ; and, in addition to this, that you should have set up the Pope in Italy, to tremble at him in Ireland ; and, further, that you should have professed to have placed yourself at the head of a Christian, not a Protestant league, to defend the civil and religious liberty of Europe, and should deprive of their civil liberty one-fifth of yourselves, on account of their reli- gion, — this — this surprises me 1 5. This proscriptive system you may now remove. What the best men in Ireland wished to do, but could not do, you may accomplish. Were it not wise to come to a good under- standing with the Irish now ? The franchises of the Constitu- tion I — your ancestors were nursed in that cradle. The ances- tors of the petitioners were less fortunate, 6. The posterity of both, born to new and strange dan- gers,— let them agree to renounce jealousies and proscriptions, iu order to oppose what, without that agreement, will ovef ORATORICAL. ^21 power both. Half Europe is in battalion against us, and wb are devoting one another to perdition on account of mys- teries,— when we should form against the enemy, and march I Obattaii. 83. THE O-KAVANAGH. mHE Saxons had met, and the banquet was spread, J- And the wine in fleet circles the jubilee led; And the banners that hung round the festal that night, Seemed brighter by far than when lifted in fight. n. In came the O'Kavanagh, fair as the morn, When earth to new beauty and vigor is born • They shrank from his glance, like the waves from the prow, For nature's nobility sat on his brow. ni. Attended alone by his vassal and bard No trumpet to herald, no clansmen to guard— . He came not attended by steed or by steel: No danger he knew, for no fear did he feel IV. In eye and on lip his high confidence smiled— So proud, yet so knightly— so gallant, yet mild ; He moved like a god through the light of that hall, And a smile, full of courtliness, proffered to all. "Come pledge us, lord chieftain 1 come pledge us!" they crip.!- Unsuspectingly free to the pledge he replied : ' And this was the peace-branch O'Kavanagh bore— "The friendships to come, not the feuds that are o'er I" 14* 322 THE SIXTH KBADEB. VI. But, minstrel, why cometh a chauge o'er thy theme? Why sing of red battle— what dream dost thou dream? Hal "Treason!" 's the cry, and "Revenge!" is the call, As the swords of the Saxon surrounded the hall] VII. A kingdom for Angelo's mind ! to portray Green Erin's undaunted avenger that day; ')V(\pyu— The far-flashing sword, and the deatli-dartin^ eye, Like some comet commissioned with wrath from the sky. vni. Through the ranks of the Saxon he hewed his red way- Through lances, and sabres, and hostile array ; And, mounting his, charger, he left them to tell Tile tale of that feast, and its bloody farewell. ix. And now on the Saxons his clansmen advance, With a shout from each heart, and a soul in each lance; He rushed, like a storm, o'er the night-covered heath, And swept through their ranks, like the angei of death. Then hurrah ! for thy glory, young chieftain, hurrah ! Oh ! had we such lightning-souled heroes to-day, Again would our "sunburst" expand in the gale. And Freedom exult o'er the green Innisfail 1 J. AuousTDs Smu. 30. ON AMERICAN TAXATION. [Bnrke is the greatest of Irish statesmen, and unsurpassed as a writer; by nniversal consent Lc stands equal to Lord Chatham. As an orator, he derived UtUe advantage from personal qualifications ; bia voice and dclivcrj- wore not good, hut the extent and variety of his powers in debate were greater than that »f any other orator in a&oioQt or modsru times. Whoa ho rose to gly« ORATORICAL. 323 Big speech on American taxation, the evening was far adyanced; the debate was dull, and many of the members had withdrawn to neighboring rooms. The first sentences of his wonderful exordium awakened universal attention • too report of what was going on spread in every direction, and the mem))w came crowding back until the hall was crowded to overflowing, and it r* wunded throughout the speech with the loudest expressions of applaiuic Lord Townsend exclaimed, at the close of one of those powerful passage* in which the speech abounds : " Heavens, what a man is this ! Where could 1. acquire such transcendent powers ?" CoL Barre, in the fervor of liis excit. ment, declared that If it could be written out he would nail it on every church door in the kingdom. Gov. Johnston said " it was fortunate for the noble lords (North and Germaine) that spectators had been excluded during the debate, for if any had been present they would have excited the people to tear the noble lords in pieces on their way home." j nOULD any thing be a subject of more just alarm to America, V than to see you go out of the plain high road of finance,' and give up your most certain revenues and your clearest in- terests, merely for the sake of insulting your colonies? No man ever doubted that the commodity of tea could bear an imposition of three-pence. But no commodity will bear three- pence, or will bear a penny, when the general feelings of men are irritated, and two millions of men are resolved not to pay. 2. The feelings of the colonies were formerly the feelings of Great Britain. Theirs were formerly the feelings of Mr. Hampden, when called upon for the payment of twenty shil- lings. Would twenty shillings have ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune? No! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the principle it was demanded, would have made him a slave ! 3. It is the weight of that preamble, of which you are so fond, and not the weight of the duty, that the Americans are unable and unwilling to bear. You are, therefore, at this mo- ment, in the awkward situation of fighting for a phantom • a quiddity; a thing that wants, not only a substance, but even a name ; for a thing which is neither abstract right, nor piuf- 'table enjoyment. 4. They tell you, sir, that yoqr dignity is tied to it. I know not how it happens, but this dignity of yours is a terrible in= cumbrance to you ; for it has of late been ever at war with your interest, your equity, aijd every idea of your policy 324 THE SIXTH READER. Itv Show the thing you contend for to be reason, show it to l« common sense, show it to be the means of obtaining some use- ful end, and then I am content to allow it what dignity tqi, please. But what dignity is derived from the perseveiance in absurdity, is more than I ever could discern I 5. Let us, sir, embrace some system or other before we end this session. Do you mean to tax America, and to draw a productive revenue from thence? If you do, speak out: name, fix, ascertain this revenue ; settle its quantity; define its objects ; provide for its collection; and then fight, when you have something to fight for. If you murder, rob ; if you kill, take possession : and do not appear in the character of madmen, as well as assassins,— violent, vindictive, bloody, and tyrannical, without an object. But may better counsels guide ^ Burke. 40. ENTERPRISE OF AMERICAN COLONISTS. "POR some time past, Mr. Speaker, has the Old World beer A fed from the New. The scarcity which you have felt would have been a desolating famine, if this child of your old age,— if America,— with a true filial. piety, with a Roman charity, had not put the full breast of its youthful exuberance to the mouth of its eihausted parent. 2. Turning from the agricultural resources of the colonies, consider the wealth which they have drawn from the sea by their fisheries. The spirit in which that enterprising employ- ment has been exercised ought to raise your esteem and ad- miration. Pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it? Pass by the other parts, and look at the manner in which the people ^ ^of New England have of late carried on the whale fishery. v-^"^^ 3. While we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen re- wsses of Hudson's Bay and JDavis' Straits, while we are look- ing for them beiioaih the Arctic Circle, we hear that they have pierceci into the opposite region of Polar cold, that they are at OBATOBICAL. 325 the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent of the South. 4. Falkland Island, which seemed too remote and romantic ; an object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both the Poles. We know that while some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue their gigantic game, along the coast of Brazil. 6. No sea but what is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness to their toils. Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; a people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened i.^.to the bone of manhood. '"^'^ 6. When I contemplate these things,— when J know that the colonic, in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into this hapf y form by ivA*^-. the constraints of a watchful and suspicions governuient, but that, through a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature has been suffered to take her own way to perfection,-' when I reflect upon these effects, when I see how profitable tho^ have been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink, and all pre^omp- tion in the wisdom of human contrivances melt, and die r^waj within me. My rigor relents. I pardon soinothing tc the Bpirit of liberty. 3^^ 41. PANDEMONIUM. QINCB I had the honor, I should say, the dishonor, of sittiM* ^ in this house, I have been witness to many str^^nge, many infamous transactions. What can be your intention in attack- 820 THE 8IXTH READER. U 1 0^ ing all honor and virtue. Do you mean to bring all n)en to a level with yourselves, and to extirpate all honor and indepen- dence I Perhaps you imagine a vote will settle the who!*. con ti overs J. 2. Alas ! you are not aware that the manner in which your vote is procured is a secret to no man. Listen : for if you are not totally callous, if your consciences are not seare d will speak daggers to your souls, and wake you to all the hell'o^ guilty recollection. I will follow you with whips and stings] L through every maze of your unexampled turpitude, and plant thorns under the rose of ministerial approbation. 3. You have flagrantly violated justice and the law of the land, and opened a door for anarchy and confusion. After assuming an arbitrary dominion over law and justice, you issue orders, warrants, and proclamations, against every oppo- uent, and send Rrisoners to your Bastile all those who have the courage and virtue to defend the freedom of their country. 4. But it is in vain that you hope by fear and terror to ex- tinguish the native British fire. The more sacrifices, the more martyrs you make, the more numerous the sons of liberty will become. They will multiply like the hydra, and burl vengeance on your heads. Let others act as they will ; while I have a tongue, or an arm, they shall be free. 5. And that I may not be a witness of these monstrous proceedings, I will leave the house ; nor do I doubt but every independent, every honest man, every friend to England, will follow me. These walls are unholy, baleful, deadly, whilu a prostitute majority holds the bolt of parliamentary power and hurls its vengeance only upon the virtuous. To your •elves, tlierefore, I consign you. Enjoy your pandemonium ! BUBKE. ...those of mori 49. IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS. [This speech has been eliaractcrized aa the greatest InteUectnal effort ever made before the Parliament ol Great Britain. Burke a«toni8h«d «T«a thoM ORATORICAL. 327 rho were mo8t intimntnly acquainted with him by the vn^t extent of hi, reading, the variety of his re8ourop.s fh„ rr,i„. * x , . «^^K3ni oi ma i„b cmps were pitched , from ,he to™,. b„mml„. l,te bedXe,* ,h 1 TI|Y Lords, I do not mean now to go further than just to •^'J- remind your lordships of this-that Mr. Hastings' gov- ernment was one whole system of oppression, of robbery of individuals, o spoliation of the public, and of suppression of the whole system of the English Government, in order to vest m the worst of the natives all the power that could possibly exist m any government; in order to defeat the ends which all governments ought, in common, to have in view. In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you, ^ ^ 2. My lords, what is it that we want here, to a great act of national justice ? Do we want a cause, my lords f You have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms 3 Do you want a criminal, my lords ? When was there so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one ?-No my t^'lT ""w "'' ^°"'' '' P""'^^ ""y «t^^^^- ««-h delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enou..b :n India to nourish such another delinquent. 4. My lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have be- ore you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors : and T boueve my lords, that the sun, in his beneficent proo-;es8 round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than 328 THE SIXTH READER. that of men, separated from a remote people by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral coniraunity ;— all the Commons of England resent- ing, as their own, the indignities and cruelties thet are offered to all the people of India, 5. Do we want a tribunal ? My lords, no example of an- iquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of Auman imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. We commit safely the interests of India and humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence that, ordered by the Commons, 6. I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and misdemeanors. 1. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed. < 8. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishonored. 9. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties, he has subverted ; whose properties he has destroyed ; whose country he has laid waste and desolate. 10. I impeach him in the name and by virtue of those eter- nal law3 of justice which he has violated. 11. I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in both Hexes, in every age, rank, situation, and condition of life. BUBKE. P I" It!. 48. PERORATION TO THE IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS. [This speech lasted four days. It was in the darliest season of the Frenclj Revolution— a few days before the fall of Robespierre, when the British em. piro was agitated with conflicting passions, and fears were entertained by many of secret conspiracies to overthrow the government To these Musi Bnrku referred at the ciose of his peroration, which has a grandeur and •olemnity becoming the conclusion of such a trial] ORATORICAL. 329 M ■IHA, Y Lordp. T have done I The pa., of the Commona is cou- cluded 1 With a trembling hand, we consign the product or these long, long labors to your charge. Take it! Take it t It is a sacred trust I Never before was a cause of such mag- mtude suhmitted to any human tribunal ! 2. My lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons, and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I attest the ad- vancing generations, between which, as a link in the chain oi eternal order, we stand. 3. We call this nation, we call the world, to witness, that ^ the Commons have shrunk from no labor ; that we have been^^'T^ guilty of no prevarications ; that we have made no compromise with crime ; that we have not feared any odium whatsoever, m the long warfare which we have carried on with the crimes the vices, the exorbitant wealth, the enormous and overpower' ing influence of Eastern corruption. 4. A business which has so long occupied the councils and tribunals of Great Britain, cannot possibly be hurried over in the course of vulgar, trite, pnd transitory events. Nothing but some of those great revolutions that break the tradition, ary chain of human memory, and alter the very face of naturu itself, can possibly obscure it. My lords, we are all elevated to a degree of importance by it. The meanest of us will, by means of it, become more or less the concern of posterity. 5. My lords, your house yet stands; it stands, a great edifice ; but, let me say, it stands in the midst of ruins— in the midst of ruins that have been made by the greatest moral earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered this globe of onrs My lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in such a state, that we appear every moment to be on the verge of fiome great mutation. 6. There is one thing, and one thing only, that defies muta- tion— that which existed before the world itself. I mean jus- tice : that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, ha« a place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our guide With regard to ourselves, and with regard to others; and nrfi 1 V'i 830 THE SIXTH READER. which will stand after this globe is burne'd to ashes, o«r advo cate or our accuser before the great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the tenor of a well-spent life. 1. My lords, the Commons will share in every fate with your lordships. There is notuing sinister which can happen to you ^ m which we are not involved. And if it should so happeu that your lordships, stripped of all the decorous distinctions of human society, should, by hands at once base and cruel be led to those scaffolds and machines of murder upon wi'ich great kmgs and glorious queens have shed their blood amid the prelates, the nobles, the magistrates who supported their thrones, may you in those moments feel that consolation which I am persuaded they felt in the critical moments of their dreadful agony | * * * 8. My lords, if you must fall, may you so fall I But if you «tand-and stand, I trust you will, together with the fortuneB of this ancient monarchy; together with the ancient laws and liberties of this great and iUubtrious kingdom— may you staud «ia unimpeached in honor as in power 1 May you stand not as a substitute for virtue ; may you stand, and long stand' the terror of tyrants ; may you stand, the refuge of afflicted na- tions; may you stand, a sacred temple for the perpetual residence of inviolable justice 1 Bdbkb. 44. HTDER ALI'S INVASION OP THE CARNATIC. [This is taken from Burke's great speech on the "Nabob of Arcot's Debts " In which for nearly five hours this unrivaled orator poured out his feeling with an ardor and impetuosity which he had never before equaled In rh^ to ncal address, vivid painting, lofty declamation, bitter sarcasm, and wither Ing invective it surpasses aU Lis other speeches. His description of Hydei Ah sweepmg over the Carnatic with fire and sword is the most eloquent passage he ever produced. Lord Brougham has pronounced this speech "by tor the best of aU Mr. Burke's orations."] \rr HEN at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do with men who either would sign no convention, or whom no ri 1" J rrp *»£! rt j^ f^ J. U ilf ORATORICAL. 331 treaty and no signature could bind, and who were the deter- mined enemies of human intercourse itself, he decreed to make the country possessed by these incorrigible and pre destinated criminals a memorable example to mankind 2. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of a mind cupacioua of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desc.lation as I barrier between him and those against whom the faith which holds tue moral elements of the world together was no pre tection. He became at length so confident of his force so collected in his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of his dreadful resolution. 3 Having terminated his disputes with every enemy and every rival, who buried their mutual animosities in their common detestation against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew from every quarter whatever a savage ferocity conld add to h,s new rudiments in the arts of destruction- and compounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and de.c^^i^^ nation into .one black cloud, he hung for a while on the de- ^ plivities of the mountains, 4. While the authors of all these evils were idly and 8 upidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured down the whole of Its contents upon the plains of the Carnatic. Then ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no eye had seen, no heart conceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell 6. All the horrors of war before known or heard of were mercy to that new havoc. A storm of universal fire blasted every field, consumed every house, destroyed every temple 6. The^ miserable inhabitants, flying from their flamin-g villages, m part were slaughtered ; others, without regard to sex to age, to the respect of rank, or sacredness of function • fathers torn from children, husbands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, and, amid the goading spears of ^'' -•-.. ««d .he tiamplmg of pursuing horses, were swept imto captivity, m an unknown and hostile land. u^i^^'^ 333 THR SIXTH READF.B v^' MV*y^ 1. Those who wcro able to cradc this tempest fled to thn walled cities, but, escapir.nr fn,m fire, sword, and evil,, tliev fell into the jaws of famine. The alms of the K(.ttl..,n.M| (Madras), in this dreadful exigency, were certainly lib,,-,) and all was done by charity that private charity could do ' but It was a people in beggary ; it was a nation whicli 8ti etched out its hands for food. 8. For months together these creatures of sufferance whose very excess and luxury in their most plenteous days hul fallen short of the allowance of our austerest f'>8t8 silont patient, resigned, without sedition or disturbance,' almost without complaint, perished by a hundred a day in the streets of Madras; every day seventy at least laid their bodies in the streets, or on the glacis of Tanjore, and expired of famine in the granary of India. 9. I was going to awake your justice towards this unhappy part of our fellow-citizens, by bringing before you some of the circumstances of this plague of hunger. Of all the calam- ities which beset and waylay the life of man, this comes the nearest to our heart, and is that wherein the proudest of us all feels himself to be nothing more than he is. But I find myself unable to manage it with decorum. 10. These details are of a species of horror so nauseous and disgusting ; they are so degrading to the stifferers and to the hearers ; they are so humiliating to human nature itself, that on better thoughts, I find it more advisable to throw a pall over this hideous object, and to leave it to your general con- ceptious. 11. For eighteen months, without intermission, this do- Btruction raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of Tan- jore ; and so completely did these masters in their art, Hyde AH and his more ferocious son (Tippoo Saib), absolve them selves of their impious vow, that when the British armies traversed, as they did, the Carnatic, for hundreds of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their march they did liOt see one man— not one woman— not one child— not one ORATORICAL. four-footed beast ^f any description whatever 1 uniform silence re.gned over the whole n-g.on. 88S One dead, 45. MAKIS ANTOINETTE. QUEEN OF LOUIS XVL TT is nov.. sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the 0„een i of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles ; ad st • ^ decorating and cheerin,tLX.:;:dC:l:s;:^ 2. Oh, what a revolution 1 and what a heart must : have contornplate. without emotion, that elevation and that Zll 3. I thought ten thousand words mn<,t hn^, i their scahhRi-^o t^ * "^^^ leaped from lueir scauDaids to aveno-p ,.vpn 'i ir.oU +i. i. xi of Europe ,8 exting„i8l,ed forever I Never ulJrr.,!, webebold that go,,,.,,,,,, ,„,a,t, to raara '/ eT t" ": ' ' ««bm,s8ion, that di^uified obedionee tb„t =,.i 7 ^ ^ rrtet^r^:"'-- -^^^^^^^^^^^^ ;-"::?ra^r;r:i't;drr„t^e^:^:~"', WM.0 « ^H,a.r r:x;anreroCi;r t :::?; and under wh.VK ^;«^ :x__,p , , , ,^ . *^"»ievei it touched. •-^- itai;!! lost half Its evil bv lo^in«. oil •*■ grussness. -^ '"^"^g all ita Burke. Sji IS ^ii :j^ W' BmneamA S34 THE SIXTH READEB. 46. THE TITHE BILLS. [An able British reviewer gives the following able criticism of 0'Ck)nnell, as an orator : O'Connell was successful alilie at the bar, In the senate, and before at,- eembled thousands of his fellow-citizens and fellow-countrymen, exhibiting un almost solitary instance of eminence in the various modifications of gtyio necessary for his different audiences. O'Connell occupies one of the higliest stations among modem orators. The whole course of his eloquence, as well in Parliament as out of doors, is rapid and sonorous, and whenever he spoke he bends, or sways, or alarms, or soothes, at pleasure, the passions of his hearers. He was toaster of the eloquenco which sometimes tears up all before it,like a whirlwind or at other times steals imperceptibly upon ths senses and probes to the bottom of the heart— eloquence which engrafts opinions that are new, and eradicates the old. In graphic and heart-rendins descriptions of scenes, whether of weal or of woe, O'Connell surpassed all competitors. Most soul-stirring was the debate'on the Irish tithe bill, when he thus depicted the scenes of blood that had been perpetrated in Ireland. 1835.] ^ rpHE tithe bills ,were continued ; laws passed, with some -*- cessation from time to time, but the innate sense of in- justice, the conviction of wrong, arising from the payment of a sinecure Protestant clergy by a Catholic population, over- turned the boundaries of -law ; broke asunder the parchmenl chains of the acts of Parliament ; the dungeons were filled, the convict ship was crowded, even the scaffold was reared, and blood has been shed in oceans, but shed in vain. 2. Is it not time to put an end to such scenes of atrocity? Blood is flowing still ; even now, is not Rathcormac red with CaJWt human gore ? I do not mean to canvass the merits of this melancholy event, which is under progress of legal inquiry but two magistrates, who are implicated in the matter, have presided over the investigation. 3. A poor woman has been examined. Have honorable mem- bers read her statement ? The mother was with her child in the morning. After the affray, she went out to look for her flon. The first body she turned over she shouted for joy. Why? Because human blood had bee^ spilled? Because the life of a human being had been sacrificed? Ah I no; but because it happened not to have been her son. ORATORICAL. 885 4. She had a similar shout of joy looking in the coun. tenance of the second murdered man ; but the third was her BOD ; from that moment her eyeballs became as coals of fire and she did not shed a single tear. That woman's tears have not yet begun to flow. When is she to have redress? She iB to have no redress, and the cause of her woe, the grand evil, B still to remain in Ireland. 6. We are still to follow up the old cause, giving new acta of Parliament, but no new principle, no new spirit unknown to our predecessors, and leaving all the evils of the tithe system substantially untouched and in full operation. What (Joes it signify whether the designation be tithe or tithe com position, or land tax, or rent charge ; magical as nanie^ are supposed to be, will that verbal magic do away with the in- tolerable, interminable injustice of the impost, so obnoxious ^^^''^ 0'Co««,rx. 47. THE TAIL. [In one of O'ConneU's speeches he remarked that "it is consistent with the genios and disposition of my country to mix merriment with woe, and the wnnd of laughter is often heard while the soul is wrung with bitter anguish, and the tear of sorrow dims the cheek." In accordance with this national characteristic, he occasionaUy gave vent to the most ludicrous remarks, aa l^^^ when, in his great speech on the Reform Bill, he laughingly described the de- lertlon of Lord Stanley and his followers from the ranks of the Reformers.] TI^HAT are we to call the section of the house over which ** the noble lord (Stanley) presides? It is not a party ;— that he denies ; it is not a faction ;— that would be a harsher fu- title. I will give it a name. We ought to call it "the Tail." 2. How delightful would it be to see it walking in St. James' Street to-morrow,— to see the noble ord strutting proudly W*a with his sequents behind with a smile passing over his coun- tenance,— something like, as Cnrran g.aid, " a silver plate on a coffin," while the right honorable member for Cumberland (Sir James Graham) made one of itH lustiest links,— not held by .VV*».» OJI^JX* \i 836 THE SIXTH HEADER. . t 'jvT^ t^6 Cockermouth crutch, but si pported bj' his detestation ol ^^ all coalition. 3. Yes, sir, this is the ridiculous combination of supports by which the right honorable baronet (Sir Robert Peel) is this night saved. How is he to be saved? By the Tories? 01) IK) I By the Whigs? Oh no 1 the genuine Whigs have not gone over yet. 4. Whatever becomes of speculation for places, where no negotiation for places has as yet been entered int-^ — whatevei becomes of future perspects, of difficulties not over and sub- dued, of kindness thrown out and courtesies offered, and pro- tection held over these unfortunate orphans — the ministers aa *ve call them — whatever becomes of their party, the true Whig, the true Reformer, the true friend of liberty will stand firm ; and I doubt much that the right honorable baronet's protec- tion, with that of his noble friend, the noble lord, and the sequents which he may carry with him, will avail those over whom it is extended : " Down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Derby Dilly, with its six insideal" O'CONNBLL. 48. SCENES OF OUR YOUTH. ["I came to the place of my birth, and said, 'The friends of my youth, where are they ?' an echo answered, ' Where arc they ?' "1 LONG years had elapsed since 1 gazed on the scene, Which my fancy still robed in its freshness of green— The spot where, a schoolboy, all thoughtless, I stray'd, ij<^-^ By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade. I thought of the friends who had roam'd with me there, When the sky was so blue, and the tiowers were so fair- All scHtter'd ! — all sunder'd by mountain and wave, ' And some in the silent embrace of the grave I III. I thought of the green bankci, that circled around, With wild-flowers, and sweetbrier, and eglantine crown'd; OBATOBICAL. 887 I thonght of H-3 river, all quiet and bright As the face of the sky on a blue Bummer night • 17. And I thought of the trees, under which we had stray»d Of the broad leafy bows, with their coolness of shade • ' And I hoped, though disfigured, some token to find ' Of the names and the carvings impress'd on the rind, ^j^ V. All eager, I hastenM the scene to behold, Bender'd sacred and dear by the feelings of old • And I deem'd that, unalter'd, my eye should exp1^.» /- This refuge, this haunt, this Elysium of yore. VI. Twas a dream l-not a token o. trace could I view Of the names , 1 loved, of the trees that I knew Like the shBiiov^s of night at the dawning of day "Like a tale that is told," they had vanished away! vn. And methought the lone river, that murmur'd alonir Was more dull in its motion, more sad in its song Since the birds that had nestled and warbled above Had all fled from its banks, at the fall of the grov^ L^^ vni. I paused ; and the moral came home to my heart • Behold how of earth all the glories depart I Our visions are baseless ; our hopes but a gleam j /^-^ Our staff but a reed ; and our life but a dream. Then, oh, let us look-let our prospects allure- c^...m^ To scenes that can fade not, to realms that endure lo glories, to blessings, that triumnh suhlimo O'er the blightin;?5, of change, and the ruins of time. **^^ BlACKWOOD'8 MiLOAJBIini 15 838 THE SIXTH READER. 49. THE FILLAR TOWERS OF IRELAND. 'T^HE pillar towers of Ireland, how wnndrously they stand -*- By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of our land ; In mystic file, through isle, they lift their hea''>s sublime, These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time. n. Beside these gray old pillars, how perishing and weak The Roman's arch of triumph, and the temple of the Greek And the gold domes of Byzantium, and the pointed Gothio spires 1 Al! are gone, otae by one, but the temples of our sires I m. The column t^ith'its capital, is level with the dust; And the proud halls of the mighty and the calm homes of the just ; For the proudest works of man, as certainly, but slower. Pass like the grass at the sharp scythe of the mower ! IT. But the grass grows again when in majesty and mirth. On the wing of the springy comes the Goddess of the Earth; But for man in this world no spring-tide e'er returns To the labors of his hands or the ashes of his urns I V. Two favorites hath Time — the pyramids of Nile, And tha old mystic temples of our own dear isle ; Ab the breeze o'er the seas, where the halcyon has its nest, Thus time o'er Egypt's tombs and the temples of the West I ▼I. The names of their founders have vanished in the gloom, Like the dry branch in the fire or the body in the tbUnb; Bnt to^ay, in the ray, their shadowa still they ca8t^^*^*'t:r These temples of forgotten gods-these relics of the past I ^iSLu^X ra. Around these walls have wandered the Briton and the Dane- The captives of Armorica, the cavaliers of Spain- Phoenician and Milesian, and the plundering Norman Peers— And the swordsmen of brave Brian, and the chiefs of later years I vm. How many different rites have the gray old temples known*! To the m,nd what dreams are written in these chronicles of stone I What terror and what error, what gleams of love and truth Have flashed from these walls 'since the world was in its youth 1 DC. Here blazed the sacred fire, and, when the sun was gone As a star from afar to the travelL-r it shone • ' And the warm blood of the victim have these gray old temples drunk, And the death-song of the Druid and the matin of the Monk. Here was placed the I^ chalice that held the sacred wine, And the gold cross from the altar, and the relics from the shnne. And the mitre shining brighter with its diamonds than the East, ^""^ ^Prierr''"^^ *^' ^''''*'^' *'''* *^' '^''^'°'°*' °^ ^'^^ Where blfezed the sacred fire, rung out the vesper bell,- Where the fugitive found shelter, became the hermit's cell j 840 THB SIXTH BEADEB. And hope iiung out its symbDl to the innocent and good, For the Cross o'er the moss of the pointed summit stood . zn. There may it stand forever, while this symbol doth impart To the mind one glorious vision, or one proud throb through the heart ; ji. gained by the elo^iuence of O'Connell, when he wrenched from England tho flrat Instalment c f long-deferred justice in the Act of Catholic Emancipation.) T DO not ri'.e to fawn or cringe to tiiis house. I do not rise -■■ to supplicate you to be merciful towards the nation to which I belong — towards a nation whic>>, though subjeot to England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nption : it has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. 2. I call upon this house, as you value the liberty of Eng- land, not to a;low the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the press, and of every other institution dear to Englishmen. 3. Against the bill I protest in%ie name of this Irish people, and in the faco of heaven. I treat with scorn the fU^- - puny and pitiful assertions that grie\ ances are not to be com- plained of, that our redress is not to be agitated ! for, in such cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too violent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer, 4. There are two frightful clauses in this bill. The one which dot3B away with tiiai by jury, aud which I have called upon you to baptize: you call it a CQurt-mariid,-' \ OKATORIOAL. 841 a mere nickname ; I stigmatize it as a rn^Wiomry Inbunal tlunjr? °''"' ''"' '' '"*' '^ '' '' ''' " vevolutionary 5. It annihilates the trial by jury; it drives the judge from h,8 bench -the man who. from experience, could wefgh the mce and dehcate points of a case,_who could discriminate between the staightforward testimony and the suborned evi- dence,_who could see, plainly and readily, the justice or injustice of the accusation. . ^ 6. It turns out this man who is free, unt^^kled, unpreja- " .:ced._who has no previous opinions to control the clear exercise of his duty. You do away with that which is more sacred than the throne itself; that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your commons assemble 1. If ever I doubted before of the success of our agitation or repeal, this bill, this iniamous bill, the way in which it has been received by the house, the manner in which its opponents have been treated, the personalities to which they have been subjected thesis, with which one of them has this night Uu^^ been greetea,--a]l these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me ol Its ccnplete and early triumph. 8. Do you think those yells will* be forgotten ? Do you suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills? 9. Oh, they will be heard there f Yes ; and they will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bJund with'ndignat on they will say, "We are eight millions ; and you treat us thus as though we were no more to your country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey 1" 10. I have done my duty ; I stand acquitted to my con- science and my country; I have opposed this mLure throughout ; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive uncallea for, unjust; as establishing an inf^mou^ l-l^^l y 1 tahating crime against crirae ; as tyrannous, cruelly and vindictively tyrannous. ' .y « O'CSONNBLU 842 THE SIXTH READEB. 61. RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. CAN any thing be more absurd and untenable than the argument of the learned gentleman, when you see it \nj)^^ht stripped of the false coloring he has given to it? First, he alleges that the Catholics are attached to their religion with a bigoted zeal. I admit the zeal, but I utterly deny the big otry. 2. He proceeds to insist that these feelings, on our part, justify the apprehensions of Protestants. The Catholics, he says, are alarmed for their Ci arch ; why should not the Prot- estants be alarmed, also, for theirs? The Catholic desires safety for his religion ; why should not the Protestant require security for his? Hence, he concludes that, merely because the Catholic desires to keep his religion free, the Protestant is thereby justified ih seeking to enslave it. 8. He says that our anxiety for the preservation of our Church vindicates those wh / deem the proposed arrangement necessary for the protection of theirs ; — a mode of reasoning perfectly true, and perfectly applicable, if we sought any inter- ference with, or control over, the Protestant Church,— if we asked or required that a single Catholic should be consulted upon the management of the Protestant Church, or of its revenues or privileges. 4. But the fact does not bear him out ; for we do not seek nor desire, nor would we accept of, any kind of interference with the Protestar *■ Church. We disclaim and disavow any kind of cout A over it. We ask not, nor would we allow, any Catholic authority over the mode of appointment of their clergy. Nay, we are quite content to be excluded forever from even advising his majesty with respect to any matter relating to or concerning the Protestant Church,— its rights, itb properties, or its privileges. 5. I will, for my own part, go much further ; and I do de- Blare, most solemnly, that I would feel and express equal, ii not stronger repugnance, to the interference of a Catholic with OBATOBICAL. 843 the Protestant Church, than that I have expressed and do feel to any Protestant interference with ours. 6. In opposing their interference with us, I content myself with the mere war of words. But, if the case were reversed, -if the Catholic sought this control over the religion of the Protestant,-the Protestant should command my heart my tongue, my arm, in opposition to so unjust and insultiiff a measure. * 7. So help me God ! I would, in that case, not only feel for the Protestant, and speak for him. but I would fight for him and cheerfully sacrifice my life in defence of the great prial ciple for which I have ever contended-the principle of uni Tergal and complete religious liberty ! O'Cohhslu Bnt,^<^ . 63. THE IRISH SOLDIER, IJOHN PHttPOT CXTBBAN, bom In Ireland i7Kn * !»»,«„ . . i wilh on energy that .hoiUd be Imitated by all who ..* mT ^ J>^ be employed eve,, mean, .„ c^rJ^'Z Il^^ZIZZ::^ npHE present is the most awful and importam crisis that Ire- land ever saw, considering the actual state of the nation of he empire and of the war iu which we are engaged. aJ iMo them; they are lost in the events: if they had been a. ™tr;thaTth"° "T '''"^'''"' ■—"-i'tt^bL: «I'JjT,t'i^' f /"™f* '"'™ PO""^ i-to the Held, and sur. rounded the devoted region of France on every side, but, fa, 844 THE SIXTH READKB. from achievii»g their purpose, they have only formed an iron ^ hoop about her, which, instead of quelling the fury of her dis- 5vjL». Bensions, has compressed their spring into an irresistible energy, and forced them into coaction. 3. During its progress we saw the miserable objects for whom it was undertaken consumed in nameless thousands in the different quarters of Eurcpe, by want, and misery, and despair ; or expiring on the scaffold, or perishing la the field. 4. We have seen the honest body of the British mauufao- turer tumbled into the common grave with the venal carcass !iMKo.v»A^- of the Prussian hireling ; we .have seen the generous Briton submit to the alliance of servitude and venalty, and submit to It in vain. The sad vicissitudes of each successive campaign have been marked by the defeat of our armies and triumphs of our enemies, and the perfidy of our allies. 6. What was th^ situation of the contending parties at the beginning of the contest ? England, with Spain, with Austria, with Prussia, with Holland, with Ireland on her side ; while' France had to count the revolt of Toulon, the insurrection of La Vendee, the rebellion of Lyons, and her whole eastern ter- ritory in the hands of her enemies. ^^jf-»>^ 6. How direful the present reverse I I^ngland exhausted, Holland surrendered, Austria wavering, Prussia fled, and Spain fainting in the contest ; while France, triumphant and successful, waves a military and triumphant sceptre over an extent of territory that stretches from the ocean and the Rhine to the Pyrenees and the ocean. 1. I will not dwell upon this miserable picture ; I will only observe that, during this long tsuocession of disaster and de- feat, Ireland alone, of all the allies Great Britain has, neither traflScked, nor deceived, nor deserted, 8. The present distresses of her people attest her liberality of her treasure, while the bones of her enemies and of her children, bleaching upon all the plains of Europe, attest the brilban -"-y Oi uer courage and the steadfastness of Ler faith. Cuasux. ORATORICAL. 845 53. LAWS FOR IRELAND. [The boat efforts of EngUah epcakera Mhlch have been preserved, re«l«»ilw^l tamely compared with Grattan's, aboundln« as the latter do with fuhnmat T^*^' ing bursta of the most brilliant elo.,ucnoe. Hla oration on the, declaration U Ir^h Ry,ht» conveys the best Idea of his genius as an orator. The foUowins 1« one of the most eloquent perorations thrvt can bo found In any naUon or age : k ND as any thing less than liberty i» inadequate to Trefund, ^^ 80 is it dangerous to Great Britain. We are too near tha BntiHh nation, we are too conversant with her histcry, we aro too much fired by her example, to be any thing less than her equal ; any thing loss, we should be her bitterest enemies— an enemy to that power which smo^ , with her mace, and to that constitution from whose blessing we were excluded ; to be ground as we have been by the British nation, Ibound by her parliament, plundered by her crown, threatened by her enemies, insulted with her protection, while we%eturned thanks for her condescension, is a system of meanness and misery which has expired in our determination, as I hope it has in her magnanimity. 2. Do not tolerate that power which blasted you for a cenf T*^ tury, that power which sh^^ttered your loom, banished your manufactures, dishonored your peerage, and stopped the growth of your people ; do not, I say, be bribed by an export of woollen, or an import of sugar, and permit that power which has ihus withered the land to remain in your country and have existence in your pusillanimity. 3. Do not suffer the arrogance of England to imagine a sur- v)vmg^pe in the fears of Ireland ; do not send the people to their own resolves for liberty, passing by the tribunals of ins- tice and the high court of parliament ; neither imagine thai by any formation of apology, you can palliate puch a comrais' Bion to your hearts, still less to your children, who will stingy you with their curses in your grave for having interposed be- ^ tweon them and their Maker, robbing them of an immense o.> ca»iun, and lo.mg an opportunity which you did not create. and can never restore i6* ,<(. 'I XtfM- \***f<^ 846 TIIK SIXTH READER. l|ct»/u>», *• Hereafter, when these things shall be history — your af^e ' of thraldom and pov«'rty, your sudden resurrection, coninicr. oial redress, and miraculous armament — shall the historian stop at liberty, and observe, that here the principal men among uh fell into mimic trances of gratitude — they were awed by a weak ministry, and bribed by an empty treasury; and when liberty was wit!. in their grasp, and the temple opened her folding-doors, and the arms of the people clanged, and tho zeal of the nation urged and encouraged them on, that they fell down, and were prostituted at tho threshold. M»A, 6. I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and d(.'mand my liberty. I do call upon you, by the laws of the land and their violation, by the instruction of eightecf counties, by the arms, inspiration, and providence of the present moment, tell us the rule by which we shall go — assert the law of Ireland- declare the libirty'of the land. 6. I will not be answered by a public lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, speaking for tho subjects' freedom, am I to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe, in thJB our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be the ambition to break your chain, and contemplate your glory. 1. I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British chain clanking to his rags ; he may be naked, he shall not be in iron ; and I do see the time is at hand, the spirit has gone forth, the declaration is planted ; and though great men should apostatize, yet the cause will live ; and though the public speaker shouU die, yet the imnwrtal fire shall outlast the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but survive him. 8. I shall move you, " That the King's most excellent Ma- jesty, and the Lords and Commons of Ireland, are the onlj power competent to make laws to bind Ireland." Obattah. OKATORICAU 847 54. NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE. I Jambs Otis, born In MoMachuaetta, 1726- dlod ITM m k £NGLAND may as well dam up the waters of tho Nile wifl, , ' J 1^ bnlrushe« as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud "^'^' and firm in tins youthful land, than where she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or crouches herself amo,.. the ^^:^ oiagn.ficent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principle ^ hke those aga,nst which we no. .onte ., have cost'one king of England hm hfe-another h s crown- and thoy may yet cost a third his most flourishing ^o:.;m«g. ' ^ ^ ^^"^ 2^ We are two millions-one-fi . i^^i.ting men. We are bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation rem whom we are proud to derive our origin, we were ever, nd we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; bu c^ it must not, and it never can be extorted 8. Some have sneeringly asked, "Are the Americans too W^ poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ?" No 1 Amer- .ca, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ItT r^'lV: ''^'' '' ''''' a thousand ; and what mus^t be the wealth that avarice, aided by power, cannot ex- 4. True, the spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him is huge enough to darken all this fair lanrl. Others m sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude winch we owe to England. And what is the amount of this deb ? Why, truly, ,t is the same th.t the young lion owes to theiam_which has brought it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert 5 We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom m our teeth, because the faggot and torch were be- bind us. We have waked t^is new world from its savage «et.argy ; forests have been prostrated in our path ; town« and o.ties have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the ?- 348 THE SIXTH READER. tropics ; and the fires in our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid than the increase of our wealth and population 6. And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother- country ? No f we owe it to the tyranny that drove us fron. her-to the pelting storms which invigorated our helpless mfancy. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from your gratitude-we only demand that you should pay your own expenses/^ 7 And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity? Why the king (and. with all due reverence to his sacred majesty' he underetands the real wants of his distant subjects as little as he does the language of the Ohoctaws). Who is to iud^c concerning the frequency of these demands? The ministry Who IS to judge whether the money is properly expended? The cabinet behind the throne. In every instance, those who take are to judge for those who pay. 8. If this system is suffered to go into operation, wo shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege that rain and de^ do not depend upon parliament; otherwise they would soon be taxed and dried. But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon earth to resist such monstrous injustice. 9. The flame of liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome but the light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence we will resist unto death. But we will not countenance' anarchy and misrule. 10. The wrongs that a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired, btill, It may be well for some proud men to remember, that a fare 18 lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England can not extinguisL it Om. OBATOBICAL. 849 65. THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION rAmong the men whose cjaracter and genius had an acknowledged Inflnenci on the events immediately preceding the Revolution, was JosSh Smor His name is associated with those of Otis, Adams, and other ^1^5 pathos of his eloquence, the boldness of his invectives, and the i^p;e8ive vehemence with which he arraigned the measures of fh« L« >. . f! inflamed the zeal and animated th^^r^entm^Zf 111^1^;^ ^^ WHEN we speak of the glory of our fathers, we mean not bat vulgar renown to be attained by physical strength, no ye that higher fame to be acquired by intellectual power Both often exist without lofty thought, or pure inter-^ or sen- erous purpose The glory which we celebrate was strictly of a moral and religious character ; righteous as to its ends : Lt as to its means. ' '' 2. The American Revolution had its origin neither in am- bition, nor avarice, nor envy, nor in any gross passion; but m the nature and relation of things, and in the thence result- mg necessity of separation from the parent State. Its pro- grass was limited by that necessity. a During the struggle our fathers displayed great strength and great moderation of purpose. In difficult times, they con- duced with wisdom; in doubtful times, with firmness; in perilous, with courage; under oppressive trials, erect; amid great temptations, unseduced ; in the dark hour of danger fearless ; in the bright hour of prosperity, faithful ' 4. It was not the instant feeling and pressure of the arm of despotism that roused them to resist, but the principle on which that arm was extended. They could have paid the ^amptax, and the fea-^, and othe. impositions of the British Government, had they been increased a thousand-fold Bu mment acknowledged the right; and they spurned the con- sequences of that acknowledgment. ..t J" T^ ""'" "'"'^ '^^*' '^''^y ^°"'^ ^^""^ I'ved, and happily, •nd bought, and sold, and got gain, and been at ease Bui 850 THE SIXTH EEADER. they would have held those blessings on the tenure of de pendence on a foreign and distant power; at the mercy of a king, or his minions ; or of councils in which they had n voice and where their interests could not be represented a L were httle likely to be heard. They saw that L^lt'^^ n such case would be precarious, their possessions uncert n' tneir ease inglorious. 6 But above all they realized that those burdens, though hght to them, would to the coming age, to us, their p^sterif be heavy, and probably insupportable. Reasoning on thj inevitable increase of interested imposition, upon those wh are without power and have none to help, they foresaw that Booner or later, desperate struggles must come ' Ji '^^^ ^''^r'^ ^ ™''* *'^' *"^' '" *^^''- <^ fi^. and to make he sacrifices in their ovm persons. They were willi„: themselves to eud.re the toil, an. to incur the hazard, that Z and our descendants, their posterity, might reap the harvest and enjoy the increase. 8. Generous men ! Exalted patriots 1 Immortal statesmen I For this deep moral and social affection, for this elevated self- devotion, this noble purpose, this bold daring, the multiplying myriads of your posterity, as they thicken along the Atlantic coast, from the St. Croix to the Mississippi; as%heys;e: backwards to the lakes, and from the lakes to the mounL; and from the mountains to the western waters, shall, on this day (the 4th of July), annually, in all future time, as we at Z hour, come up to the temple of the Most High, with son ^ and anthem, and thanksgiving, and choral symphony, and uallelu jah, to repeat your names ; to look steadfastly on the bnVht uess of your glory ; to trace its spreading rays to the poL from which ^hey emanate ; aud to seek, in your character and conduct, a practical illustration of public duty, in every occur. ring social exigence. JOBIAH QDnrOT ORATORICAL. 66. THE AGE OP WASHINGTON. 351 pecuHar degree to the exercise of being declaimed."] ^^'^ Q.EEAT generals have arisen in all ages of the world, a..d y perhap^, u^ost in those of despotism and darkness. In t,mes of violence and convulsion, they rise, by the force of the whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and direct the storm 2. Like meteors, they glare on the black clouds with a splendor which, while it dazzles and terrifies, makes nothing visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes is, indeed growmg ^„, they multiply in every long war, they stand' m history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as undistin- guished as their own soldiers. 3. But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears like the pole-star m a clear sky, to direct the skillful statesman His presidency will form an epoch, and be distinguished as the age of Washington. 4. Like the milky way, it whitens along its allotted portion of the hemisphere. The latest generations of men will sur- vey, through the telescope of history, the space where so many virtues blend their rays, and delight to separate them into groups and distinct virtues. 5. As the best illustration of them, the living monument, to which the first of patriots would have chosen to consign his fame, it is my earnest prayer to Heaven, that our country may subsist even to that late day, in the plenitude of it's liberty and happiness, and mingle its mild glory with Wash ington's. FiSHBB AMEa 57. UNION AND LIBERTY. PLAG of the berates who left us their glory Borne through our battle-field's thunder and flame Blazoned in sone- and illnrninpH ,-,. «4.„^.. * Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame I 352 THE SIXTH BBADBB. ^^JVl>t^.. Up with our banner bright, Sprinkled with starry light, Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore; While through the sounding sky, Loud rings the nation's cry, — Union and Liberty I— one evermore 1 n. Light of our firmament, guide of our nation, Pride of her children, and honored afar. Let the wide beams of thy full constellation Scatter each cloud that would darken a star HL Empire unsceptr^d I what foe shall assail thee, Bearing the standard of Liberty's van? "-^'■^ TLink not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee, Striving with men for the birthright of man I IV. •^aC Yet, if by madness and treachery blighted, vV_ Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw Then, with the arms of thy millions united, ' Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law I Lord of the universe 1 shield us and guide us, Trusting Thee always, through shadow and' sun I Thou hast united us, who shall divide us? Keep us, oh keep us, the Many in One I Up with our banner bright, Sprinkled with starry light, Spread its fair emblems from mountain to she \ > While through the sounding sky, Loud rings the nation's cry, Union and Liberty 1— one evermore I ^. yff^ lissuixk. OBATOBICAL. 853 68. THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION, 1787. [The foUh f Winters upon his hear! „r.^ ^u ' ^'*" lourscore dLeaae, rc.tur„i„; to his n tt . f°" °' '" '-'-'"» «^u«n, ., ,„■, oo„„.ei;irAh:;rc'';f w \™°- to, and recording his name, „„der the Lanoln ^.^ ^°*' prayer, inroked by him to God to Tl, !n "^ ''^™"' ..tbority of which .e llll^^^T'T" "°'"*'«' lives of the North Amerir^n T '.""''"''''-''• "» 'te represeuta- «.d the good founders of our Ireat con H "T^ t """"'• tae sacred symbols of our golde" '' '''''"'"'"- 6. May they be deposited among the archive, v ernmeutl And may everv i™ • "T'™ »f oar gov L 1 , , . " ^^®ry American who shall k« ^. behold them, ejaculate a mingled offerinrnf ""' Supreme Ruler of the universe bv whn ? ^ ^'^''' *° *^*' Pnion has been hitherto ^e've^ Tln^ir,:: ™""'" "^^ and revolutions of this turbulen w^ d fnd^ ^"^T""'^ continuance of these blessings bv Tp H, ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^h^ 'dence. to our beloved country from at'T"'"" "'"*""" •hall be no more 1 ^^ *^ ^^"' *'" t^^ne J. Q. Adam BL 61. LIBERTY OR DEATH. [Thlfl speech was deUvered by PATRirir ttb.»„^ k * rention of Delegate, 1775. w/en he™ hl^Lt at Z T "^'^^"'^ ^° • ofapplause was heard. Th e effect was too deeo A fT 1 "'"' °° °^'"™°' «reral memoers started fr .n heirTeT Z '^"^':!' *^'^°^°°f ^^nomen^ quiver on everv lip and -• "^^'J^^- The ciy,-"To arms !" seemed fit .upported Mr. ienr^ with s,)irit and 17'^ *'^^ ^''^^'^ ^- ^°° ^''^se and" B68 THB SIXTH READER. on high. The mtv.rrKJ.;m voice still .onndcd 1„ their oars. The. hr««. speech. Tluu flo(.J« '.or. on Are for action. » The speeches of Pat ri.li language .nd by a convenient structure of the sentences which make hi of grea. service for a pupil in declaiming."] ^° ^^'"^ JTJK. PRESIDENT, it is natural for man to indulge in the ^^A ,„„sxon8 of hope, v ^ ^^,^ ^^^ ^„ ^,,^^ our eyes agains a painful truth, and listen to the .ong of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is it the part of wise men on- gaged in the great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number of tl^^se, who, having eyes Hee act, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly 'co,. cern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever an guish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, and to provide for it. 2 1 have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and that ,» the lamp of exp, ienc. I know of no way . i Judging of the future, but by the past. And, jud. ing by the past I wish to know, what there has been in the conduct of the Brt i8h ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house ? 8. Is it that insidious smile, with which our netition Las been lately received ? Trust t not, sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet, ^ufft aot yoi. c-lves to be betrayed with a kis^ Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparatior,. which cover our waters and dar;cen our land. 4. Are fleets and armies necessary to a wori of love aad reconciliation? Have we sho^v . ourselves so unwilling to i)e reconciled, that force mi, >e c' ied iu to win hack our love? Let us not deceive ourse ,, These are r,e imphmentg of war and subjugation- .ue last arguments to which Kings resort. I ask, gentlemen, sir, what means this .partial array, if Its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Caii gentle- mek ashign any other motive for it ? Ott^/OBICAL. 6, Has Great Biitaii 859 ^orld, to call for all 2P' "'''^'7"*^^"^ '" ^^-^ T^artor of the meant for no other Th.v 1 ^ ""'""' '^' "^ ' ^'^^^ <^^« be us those chaint which t^BT^i^^^^ "^"' *° '^'"^ ^^ "-^ upon forging. ^'^' ^"^'"^ "^'">«t^^« b^ve been so long 6. And what have we to oppose them ? Sh„ii * ment? Sir. we have been tryL that for th. Z\' "'^'" Have we any thin^r n^-w to off i '*'* ten years. wehaveholdthesl;:;^l:\^^^^^^ ble ; but it has been tu in vain fl "'^"'^ '' '« ^^f"** and humble supplication? What teril! h n''"'' '" '"'''^"'^ We not been already elu^d ^t .I ^ Tb '"' r'"'^' Bir, deceive ourselves longer. ' ^^^^^"^^^ ^""' 7. Sir, we have done everv thinw thof «^, u u ^ tb. Storm which is uow com^„r• resistance I ,*" ""«""•* "" '°™'» -' ««=«"' «fct 8. Bui, sir, jrou must have mra ,.„., wWiout tl,™. Those heavy IreTZ T,°"°' ''°' °'''°» »hich your lands a,,, groalllM " "'"''° ""''"'■•• ""''-'' ™t riches which cover IZ' 7 "'""""' '"'''^- '^''"'^ which lie hid in its birol ! . "'"" '""■ °' """ »» "'<»« • lien, you „,„st have comrerl 1." . " " '"" ■"""'"• >» take off your pr!d„Zn 7! r"* '=°"'°'<'"=i»' capital, tie™ abroad You l"at „ T " ""= '"'^' ""^-^'^ f" 1.e.e you must hlve^a ,d „7l . ' "''■ " '!!' """' °' °«=" ' »■«' . ^. Do you as. ho^ ;" I^ZZt^^'o ""' '"' "'''^- «ir, and thev will come in I t. °P'" y<""' ^"ors, » full to ov;r(l„wir Th t n Tr'"''"" "'■ "'" O'" Wo'W oppressions of the ^ove'r'^:" X" ^hfclT ' T "^'"^ ^"^^ tbey are already standinrr nn . • * *"^^ ^^^®- Sir, -d looiin, to your" :r:i r:;iS a"d'; ""'™ """^«»' 6- They see here a land bTesld [ ""«"« «'y"'- advantage, which are not e ^ fe^ Vl Z' T" ^°""""' country upon earth :_» land on „h 1 '^ "'^ ""■^ °"""' '">. emptied the horn oralltutl-fTand" "'^'''T peace hath now stretched forth her whit! °'""' """''' «te.. and plenty lie down at ever; dlr ^"^'' ""'' "'''"' They !: rr:r r K' Ta^ rr ^^ '^» -" •'■•' that liberty who. they ^llZCtVl^Z '^fr e".t,ng only i„ the fancies of p„ej Thev It ^'^'''''• dmnity,~her altars rising. „„ . \ "^ '^^ ■""■« a real 'estates, her glor s clnL I"!'""'' .f'"°«''°°' ""^o "id the whole re=-il. "1^ . '' ""•'" ""'"'^^ of tongues, K If ') ■;:<^ J,er I ^'^^ ^^6 whole region unaer i,er blessed influencer «• Sir, let but^his/u :e^eZlT;^"'r"'"^'^^^• f<'rth her fair hand towards ™-'\^''f'''' Liberty, stretch t^^'^'ds the people of the Old World,-teIl 16 363 THE SIXTH READEB. them to come, and bid them welcome, — and you will see theni pouring in from the North, from the South, from the East, and from the West. Tour wilderness will be cleared and settled, your deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will noon be in a condition to defy the powers of any adversary. 9. But gentlemen object to any accession from Great Brit ain, and particularly to the return of the British refugees , Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own interests most wo fully ; and most wofully have they suffered the punishment due to their offences. 10. But the relations which we bear to them, and to their native country, are now changed. Their king hath acknowl- edged our independence ; the quarrel is over, peace hath re- turned, and found us a free people. Let us have the magnan- imity, sir, to lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider the subject in a political light. 11. Those are an enterprising, moneyed people. They will be serviceable in taking off the surplus produce of our lands, and supplying us with necessaries, during the infant state of our manufactures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and principle, I can see no objection, in a political riew, in making them tributary to our advantage. And, as I have no prejudices to prevent my making this use of thera, 80, sir, I have no fear of any mischief that they can do us. Afraid of them! — What, sir, shall we, who have laid the proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of hia whelps f If-^ Patbios HxmiT. 64. LAFAYETTE. [John QtroOT Asamb was not merely a statesman, but, as Professor of Oratory, his lectures are able productions, and evince the vigor of a mind thoroushly conversant with the subject it investigates. The following is an extract from Mr. Adams's finished oration on the life and character ol Laittf etle, delivered li^«re Congress in 1834 :] ORATORICAL. 368 pRONOUNCE him one of the first men of his age, and you X have yet not done him justice. Try him by that test to which he sought in vain to stimulate the vulgar and selfish spirit of Napoleon ; class him among the men who, to com- pare and seat themselves, must take in the con)pas8 of all igea ; turn back your eyes upon the records of time ; summon, IVom the creation of the world to this day, the mighty dead of every age and every clime,— and where, among the race of merely mortal men, shall one be found who, as the benefactor of his kind, shall claim to take precedence of Lafayette ? 2. There have doubtless been in all ages men whose dis- coveries or inventions in the world of matter, or of mind, have opened new avenues to the dominion of man over the mate- rial creation ; have increased his means or his faculties of en- joyment ; have raised him in nearer approximation to that higher and happier condition, the object of his hopes and aspi. rations in his present state of existence, 3. Lafayette discovered no new principle of politics or of morals. He invented nothing in science. He disclosed no new phenomenon in the laws of nature. Born and educated in the highest order of feudal nobility, under the most abso lute monarchy of Europe ; in possession of an affluent fortune, and master of himself and of all his capabilities, at tue mJ meat of attaining manhood the principle of republican justice aiJ of social equality took possession of his heart and mind, as if by inspiration from above. 4. He devoted himself, his lifp, his fortune, his hereditary honors, his towering ambition, his splendid hopes, all to the cause of Liberty. He came to another hemisphere, to defend ter. He became one of the most effective champions of our independence ; but, that once achieved, he returned to his own country, and thenceforward took uo part in the controversies 'I'hicb have diviJed us. 5. In the events of our Revolution, and in the forms of pol- icy which we have adopted for the establishment and perpet- uation of our freedom, Lafayette found the most perfect form S61 THE SIXTH READER. of government. He wished to add nothing to it. He would gladly have abstracted nothing from it. Instead of the imig. inary Republic of Plato, or the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, he took a practical existing model in actual operation here, and never attempted or wished more than to apply it faithfully to his own country. 6. It was not given to Moses to enter the promised land ; but he saw it from the summit of Pisgah. It was not given to Lafayette to witness the consummation of his wishes in the establishment of a Republic and the extinction of all hereditary rule in France. His principles were in advance of the age and hemisphere in which he lived. . . . The prejudices and passions of the people of France rejected the principle of inherited power in every station of public trust, excepting the first and highest of them all ; but there they clung to it, as did the Israelites of old to the savory deities of Egypt t. When the principle of hereditary dominion shall be extin- guished in all the institutions of France ; when government shall no longer be considered as property transmissible from sire to son, but as a trust committed for a limited time, and then to return to the people whence it came ; as a burdensome duty to be discharged, and not as a reward to be abused ;— then will be the time for contemplating the character of Lafay- ette, not merely in the events of his life, but in the full devel- opment of his intellectual conceptions, of his fervent aspira- tions, of the labors, and perils, and sacrifices of his long- and eventful career upon earth ; and thenceforward till the hour when the trump of the Archangel shall sound, to announce that time shall be no more, the name of Lafayette shall stand enrolled upon the annals of our race high on the list of pure and disinterested benefactors of mankind. JOHH QlTIKOT AoiJIS. OBATOKICAL. 865 65. AMERICAN INNOVATIONS. Itat of hi. ttoa., """=' "" • ««'«">.an, he .land, «mo»B th, WHY « the experiment of an extended Republic to be le. s ,1 not tlie glory of the people of America, that while thev other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for «.. quuy, for cuetom, or for name,, to overrule the «„«ge«tionI tion, and the lesson of their own experience? 2. To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the possession, a^.d the world for the example, of the numerous mnovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of private rights and public happiness. Jvolui!-!" f '"TT '""^ '""^ *'^^"' ^y '''' '^"^^-^ of the Revolution, for which a precedent could not be discovered - no government established, of which an exact model did not present itself,-the people of the United States might, at this moment, have been numbered among the melancholy victims ot misguided councils; must, at best, have been laboring un- der the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. 4. Happily for America,-bappily. we trust, for the whole human race,-they pursued a new and more noble course. They accomplished a Revolution which has no parallel in the annals of human society. They reared the fabric of govern- ments which have no model on the face of the globe They -nned the design of a great confederacy, which it is incum- bent on their successors to improve and perpetuate 5. It their works betray imperfection., we wonder at the fewno«. of them. If they erred most in the structure of the tuiun. h.i« was the most difficult to be executed ; this is the work wnicl has been new modelled by the act of your con- j}if 866 THE SIXTH HEADER. vention, and it is that aut cs which you are now to deliberate and to decide. Jambs JUdisok. 66. THE EAGLE. ' Tr>IRD of the broad and sweeping wing I ■^-^ Thy home is high iu heaven, Where wide the storms their banners fling* A.nd the tempest clouds are driven. Thy throue is on the mountain top ; Thy fields — the boundless air ; |t„*orpv„,.xa ^n(j hoary peaks, that proudly prop ^vJtiwa The skies — thy dwellings are. II. Thou sittest like a thing of light, Amid the noontide blaze : The midway sun is clear and bright- It cannot dim thy gaze. f\*vX Thy pinions to the rushing blast O'er the bursting billow spread, Where the vessel plunges, hurry past, Like an angel of the dead. ^ d ,\y-f-a^ They rush in an endless flow. Again, thou hast plumed thy wing for flight To lands beyond the sea, And away like a spirit wreath'd in light, Thou hurriest wild and free. IV, Thou hurriest o*er the myriad waves, And th<«i leavest then al! behind; OBATOEICAL. 367 Thou sweepest that place of unknowu graves, Fleet as the tempest wind. *^^ Fleet as the tempest wind. When the night storm gathero dim and dark, With a shrill and boding scream, Thou rushest by the foundering bark, Quick as a passing dream. CCJ. Lord of the boundless realm of air I In thy imperial name, The hearts of the bold and ardent dar« n-^u The dangerous path of fame. Beneath the shade of thy golden wings, The Roman legions bore, From the river of Egypt's 'cloudy springs Their pride, to the polar shore. ▼I. For thee they fought, for thee they feU, And their oath was on thee laid ; Z.^^^^C To thee the clarions raised their swel?, And the dying warrior prayM. Thou wert, through an age of death and fears. The image of pride and power, Till the gather'd rage of a thousand years Burst forth in one awful hour. ( i*m vn. And then, a deluge of wrath it oarod, And the nafons phook with droad;' And it swept the ;..r ; : U its fields 'were flano, Awf piled with lae icingled de^vd. Kings were roli'd o th'., vrast^ful flood, With the bw and crouching slave : ' a, . .. i.. And together hvf, in a slwoud of blood, ^ The coward SLn'i the brave. 368 THE SIXTH READER. VIII. • An^ where was then thy fearless flight? "O'er the dark mysterious sea, To the lands that caught the setting light. U>vvjuu,v. The cradle of Liberty. There, on the silent and lonely shore, For ages I watch'd alone, And the world, in its darkness, ask'd no more Where the glorious bird had flown. n. "But then came a bold and hardy few, And they breasted the unknown wive ; I caught afar the wandering crewj And I knew they were high and bravo, I wheerd around the welcome bark, As it sought the desolate shore ; ' And up to heaven, like a joyous lark, My quivering pinions bore. X. "And now that bold and hardy few Are a nation wide and strong, And danger and doubt I have led them through. And they worship me in song; And over their bright and glancing arms On field and lake and sea, ^ With an eye that fires, and a SfTell that charmt I guide them to victory." ,^_ ^ Pkboivai,, 67. THE PROSPECT OF WAR, [J. C^CALnom., bom in Sonth Carolina, 1782; died, 1850.-" The eloanei,«. ^^}T.T ^^ !°'.°'*' r'' "^"^ P^**°' «»«>»& te"e, condensed, concise. Re- •-....s -n•«ncII^ UI8 lorcc eoiwi«ied in iho plalnaeea of hia propositions, in ORATORICAL. 369 Calhoun's oratory : J Wit^ aTenT,,' ^"^^'f^'^^ «'« following analysis of pontics his '.abitTof anSls abstraetir H ' T'-^P^^^'^^' »>° '^PP"ed to the problen. of govern^ trCXTthir.rf ""' vV " ^'^^ ^^ mathematics have borrowed from a,t o^nomy Th." ' '?Lf '''' '^'^'"^'• rapid, but capricious and thprp w» ^'. "°™y- ^he winjrs of his mind were thorn aa the^ Passer^la eTirratilT t i'^ "^'" "'^'^'^ "^^'^^ ^-- ' beholder. Engrossed with his subtoT '""' '"'^^ *° ''"^^^'^ ^h , , . barisnis But, though oftenTncoZ/ h f '°""'^"'"' "'' P™^'"^!*^! bar vHth him, was -ri t,?,"^"^: ;^^ Language Which, like Angelo'B, he suspended if ^e heaves.!' ''' '" ''"" " '""'^ WE are told of the. danger of war. We are roadv m hatre received. On the contr-irv tT r J""^' ^« teion,-to the Congress of UU .„' 1775 °" ''''" 3. Suppose a speaker of that dav r>o,i • .IK «... >;„ "i*;j;'" ■> '-. — .- 1^ i. Happy for 08, they h.ad i,o force at th.t „. • j , «o>.ntry. g,„r,. Had such hee/acL „ , ' ,'1 "' ""' 870 1 THE SIXTH READER. in the West. No 1 we would have been vile, subjected colonies ; governed by that imperious rod which Britain holds over her distant provinces. 6. The gentleman is at a loss to account for what he calls our hatred to England. He asks, How cj,n we hate the coun- try of Locke, of Newton, Hampden, and Chatham ; a country having the same language and customs with ourselves, and descended from a common ancestry ? 6. Sir, the laws of human affections are steady and uniform. If we have so much to attach us to that country, powerful, in- deed, must be the cause which has overpowered it. Yes, sir; there is a cause strong enough. Not that occult, courtly af- fection which he has supposed to be entertained for France ; but continued and unprovoked insult and injury, — a cause so manifest, that the gentleman had to " -cert much ingenuity to overlook it. 7. But, in his eager admiration of that country, he has nut been suflSciently guarded in his argument. Has he reflected on the cause of that admiration ? Has he examined the rea- sons of our high regard for her Chatham ? 8. It is his ardent patriotism, his heroic courage, which could not brook the least inault or injury offered to his coun- try, buiiliought that her interest and honor ought to be vindi- cated, be the hazard and expense what they might. I hope, when we are called on to admire, we shall also be asked to imitate. • j. c. Calhouu. 58. REPLY TO FOOTS RESOLUTIONS. [ROBEBT HxrNE's powcrs of oratory first became conspicuous in an add'-.'ss 4rhieh he delivered on the anniversary of the independence of America, in 1813, before the officers and soldiers of Fort Moultrie. The purity of 4yle and depth of pathos he evinced in this address won the applause of his hear- ers, an.d widely extc^idcd his reputation. It was exalted still mere when hii c&TGsr 111 thii Sftnfi.tii l>£iir&n, iis^ his st>f^^chf^. on ths Tariff in 1834. ftiid OP tlio Bankrupt Bill, are justly famous. But the most celebrated are those deliv- •red in tbd great debate on Mr. Foot's resolutions. Of the liut of these, aa ORATORICAL. 871 •ble writer na« 8«d "As an effort . f .nteUect, It will rank among tho Li-^.est n the annals of American eloquence."-" He had a copious and ready ofocu tlon flowing at will m , strong and steady current, and rich In the m! erTal wh.eh constitutes argument." In tine, Nature had lavished upon hhn L those gifts of person and mind which fascinate the stranger, and at the same time rendered his influence so powerful over those wit.f whom h lei contact in the various walks of life. "The speeches of Mr. Havne'Z bo SnUn'^'nT . >' ""* ''"'""^ ^P^'^'"^''"^ °* ^'^^^-^^ for /eclamaTor discIpUne which have ever emanated from our National Councils."] npHE gentleman from Massachusetts, in reply to my remarks -L on the injurious operations of our land system on the prosperity of the West, pronounced an extravagant eulogium on the paternal care which the Government had extended towards the West, to which he attributed all that was great and excellent in the present condition of the new States. 2. The language of the gentleman on this topic fell upon my ears like the almost forgotten tones of the Tory 'leaders of the British Parliament at the commencement of the American Revolution. They, too, discovered that the colonies had grown great under the fostering care of the mother-country • and I must confess, while listening to the gentleman I thought the appropriate reply to his argument was to 'be found m the remark of a celebrated orator made on that occa 810U : " They have grown great,in spite of your protection." ^ ^'^' 'e<^ nie tell that gentleman, that the South repudiates the idea that a pecuniary dependence on the Fed- eral Government is one of the legitimate means of h-'diug the States together. A moneyed interest in the Government is essentially a base interest ; and just so far as it operates tc bind the feelings of those who are subjected to it, to the Gov- ernment—just so far as it operates in creating sya.pathiea and interests that would not otherwise exist-is it opposed to all the principles of free government, and at war with virtue and patriotism 4. The honorable gentleman from Massachusetts has gone out of his way to pass a high eulogium on the State of Ohio, in the most impassioned tones of eloquence, he described her majestic mai|;h to greatness. He told us tha having alr**ady ~^ II 1U 873 THE SIXTH READER. F '. wr left ull the other States far behind, she wa« uow passing by Virginia and Pennsylvania, and about to take her station bv the side jf New York. 5. To all this, sir, I was disposed moat cordially to respr nd When, however, the gentleman proceeded to contrast the State of Ohio with Kentucky, to the disadvantage of the lat- ter, I listened to him with regret; and when he proceeded further to attribute the great, and, as he supposed, acknowj. edged superiority of the former in population, wealth, and gen- eral prosperity, to the policv of Nathan Dane, of Massachusetts, which had secured to the people of Ohio a population of froo' men, I will confess that my feelings suffered a revulsion, which A am now imable to describe in any language sufls' ciently respectful towards th<' gentleman from Massachusf'tts. 6. Did thftt g ntleman, sir, when he formed the determina- tion to cross the Southern border, in order to invade the State of South Carolina, deem it prudent or necessary to enlist under hi , banners the prejudices of the world, v hich like Swiss t:.|-, may be engaged in any cause, and are pre- pared to .trTO undef any leader? Did he desire to avail him. self of Ihi.^v remorseless allies, the passions of mankind, of which it may be more truly said than of the savage tribes of the wilderness, " that their known rule of warfare is an indis- criminate slaughter of all ages, sexes, and conditions ?" t. Or was it supposed, sir, that, in an unpremeditated and unprovoked attack upon the South, it was advisable to begin by a gentle admonition of our supposed weakness, in order to prevent us from making that firm and manly resistance due to our own character and our dearest interest ? 8. Was the significant hint of the \veaknes3 of slaveholding States, when contrasted with the superior strength of free States, like the glare of the weapon, half drawn from its scab- bard, intended to enforce the lessons of prudence and patriot- ism whicl the gentleman has resolved, out of his abundant generosity, gratuitously to bestow upon us ? I know it has been supposed by certain ill-informed pei* a cr. OBAToaicAL. 878 •ons that the South exists only by the protection and counte- nance « ' the North ti • . . ^'^""''®* ,, - ,, , ^ here 18 a spirt which like ea, h seekms: "horn it „ay devour ;» it is the spirit of false p ,b„thr„py. Ue persons whom it possesses leure their own '' "f" of others. The.rs is the task to feed .1.,. hungry ... olothe the naked of oth.-r lands, while th, „st ^ 1 i ; ''T^:'-r'' *'"""« ""««" f™-" *eir . .u do'rs- L:; "fte "*"■■ """ '^^'^ ""■' """""^ -"' '"e vfthe^ ' "Tr"™ "'""'"^■'"ff ""•"f '- ™- efforts to V the GiUw-'^uu. The scampering of their steeds. ^ »Tis life to guide the fiery barb Across the moonlight plain ; Tis life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane, {a^^^'^*^ A moment in the British camp— A moment — and away, 6. [The r»,,r Websteb*8 ^ personalities ciated his vi perspicuity oi eloquence, lia •lember of u thouglits, fore air of dignity, of his career afterlife. His from tlie spirii hot iron." In to Preston in p versatile gracei MATCHE cable e than this. £ we are, Thi ual honor an( ORATORICAL. Back to the pathless forest, Beibre the peep of day. ^^^ 6. Grave raen there are by broad Santee Grave men with hoary hairs ; Their hearts are all with Marion, For Marion are their prayers. ' And lovely ladies greet our band, With kindliest welcoming. With smiles like cnose of summer, And tears like those of spring ' For them we wear these trusty Lrms, And lay them down no more, nil we have driven the Briton' Forever from our shore. 70. MATCHES AND OVER-MATCHEa Btt i^v Bbyakt. personalities against Mr. Webster ^nTi^ ^^""eman had Indulged In ciated his v,ews of "N.^SLT ^The^v'tTT "''"'^^^ ^°"°- perspicuity ol style, in sound logic lieen saroSi / "^ ^' '''■'°^' ""^ Eloquence, has scarcely its equal in the Vn^rT,' ° ^^''^^'^'^^ and lofty •ember of fong^ess, Mr WMe of rl ^ ^ '"^'^°- ^ distinguished thoughts, forclDlTex^rVssiors ehor IZ^"' ""'", "' "'"''''''^ ^'^^^ »»'« <*««? ^airof dignity. «eep, ^e^^^^^Z::^^ ^^^^ manne, from the spirit of IheT-y ocean-^r / ' '"''^'''^'^^ ^o b7emanatlonb hotiron.'.'leompari JhZ";^^^^^^ '^'^"'"^"^ caustic aa red- to Preston in patho's hfaclTtTe eltT^^^^ '^ '' ^"-^^-^'^ ^"^--r ^eniat:ie graci of ciay.] ^ '^' """^ ^' °^ ^'^°"°. ^"^^ the M'tlbl!!? "t °-™^«'-B ! Those terms are more applL than hi t:tr T '"^' ^"' '"^^ '''' "^^- — '• wearl'''U'r:rsr^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^'^^ -^ what ual honor and n«r. T!' '''' '^^"^^'' "^'"en of Individ- h mor and personal character, and of absolute independence. t , W' •