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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 CON PK DKS THE COMMON SCHOOL READER, CONSISTING OF a CONCISE SYNOPSIS OF THE ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES OF ENUNCIATION AND A SELECTION OF DESIGNED FOR^^ftfusToF SCHOOLS IN THE BRITISH PROVINCES. B Y J. S. S A B I N S. SilKJRBROOKE : I'llINTKD BY J. S. WAL:'0N. 184 3. Entered according to Act of Provincial Legislature, in the year 1843, by J. S. Sabins, in the Clerk's Office of the Court of King's Bench, Tor the District of Saint Francis. T->S5 PREFACE. The addition of another to the number of School books already in use would be of no advantage unless It contained some very essential improvements. That the character of our elementary books is susceptible of this, there can be no doubt ; and that the condition of education would be much improved, thereby, ja equally obvious,— Among the different brunches of edu- cation, taught, or pretended to be taught in our Schools, there is, perhaps, no one upon which more time is ex- pended, or less proficiency generally attained, than in reading. This may be the result of various causes, but, apparently, no one contributes more to the education of a bad reader than the unsuitableness of the matter con- tained in our primary reading books. However syste- matic and judicious may be the instruction which a pu- pil receives, if he is compelled to read that which ho does not understand, or which does not interest as well as instruct, his manner will he either mechanical or mo- notonous. To obviate this, it is necessary that the sub- ject to be read should he suited to the capacity and in- telligence of the reader. If the pupil thoroughlv un- derstands what he is reading, and has not pre -iously ac- quired habits injurious to a good delivery, lie will sel- dom fail to read well. As an assistance in the n>rmation of correct habits of enunciation, a synopsis of its leading principles are given which should he carefully studied, and the pupil fihould be refercd to them whenever occasion requires Ill ♦•«Kr4»i»f hi itiio I fiiiiii « v« fy tni »ia c •Ml ' »• 'M(C3tl»»()l»|». i ) M " <• WOtU lilir 1 1 rrU'liuiM Im (Mill ,„(| VltlMlil |,.||,il. (|„HI (.M,d.,c.( I " » »•♦ riiiUnnnpp nini )Kt|,| ^* »l»<4 '•• Hip n^rtu'jtjrio^ vv)i,| Mill « I «"'i'< ( Mt!l|| «M il(|.p|( •" |''|(| hiuti I' Hi It 1 1 «'« '• |Ml.|M.( ,h.,,m| I ,,| Hir|» Vvllil'll hlin hi clKMI IM II Hi'li I//I<.)|C5 i|i||((r|H'ii Al *M>t Mill it! I J ,, ' V (llMIt/ 1,1 „ cf . J llCt II I"f3( Cntlll|..||r ly 'iMilD lift II VI, I) I..I *""" "n»"'"".Hy. (oM.llhMd Mm Mlllwl VM cit Imv «'»» lltn I '- "^-nni, ..I.,..., v,i,|. ,1,., ....,„p,,.„ ,,.,,„,„ It« U..|I( fil,hti,„llit ihufnl X IllHvr 1,1 ll <> III >" «'«Mi||||.l|| .lIlMilf. .1 lili I' "• lMl..||„ilh..|| I, "i »'^'i»t'i'tii, fil.uiil.i not Kl' ItCihot ih|ihiic) nufji-a. rr.lio 11 1 11 II iMoiliildi iHiii/i/.,fH,i rii« CI,. Illiitiiiitt^ 'I'lir 11,1,1 . A ••.MMlrtii Mviln ol" llo,,rn|y HI " MO,,|c| A rmi n Hoy or Ij Tl liiirll M-rr IH rr.li <:iiii|,l i'X W N a /j;oo i^vrr Nil HjM'iik ill n<' wiiM I 'I'lio Krei Ifil f vtty till ', "" c)M It „ l< Uht^ lliiQ , Mllfcj rUMi fit |"»|>lrH Hit. I npnr^'l I., V*»' n| |MiW 'U (iful fortn IlinJ ivliii'l) • iriii'n /\) ' *!•• CM) iin ':•• liiv«i)ji "»*f| tvMrui ; liiilMh ili^ ''••tlll«| ni)( I '" MUilir '» fin |Mif! •Ill IK |i,| li«' Ui.llil 'iK'li llHVrt flllll llup « 1(11 llifi ♦'ly wHii "' «I»'«'|M N H, IJOilTIC^TW JEssns-ttxsBKuaasijf liiilrirr rrtmlinj^ |M»is />r //r/v/i/r /'r/l Sfi } X. CONTENTS. ^ Influence of habits, The Bishop and his birds, Wishing to see a miracle, Mother, Home and Heaven, "It is I, be not afraid," Conversation, Good Company, Life in Siberia, Aversion subdued, A noble deed, Stormiui; of Ciudad Rodrii£o The honest son, A Touching Incident, The Runaways Return, Etiects of Slander, Reading, Vicissitude, Cheerfulness, Inquisitiveness, Value of the Bible, Folly and Wickedness of War, Ascent to Vesuvius, Self Education, Possibilities, •G<.xid Advice, At Home and Abroad, Avoid bad Habits, The Discontented Pendulum, The end of Great Men, The Historian's Reflections, - The Apprentice's Library, - ' Education, - - . . The Righteous never forsaken, The Nubility of Labor, - The Two Robbers, Rural Life in England, Hints to the Studious, Misfortunes, « - - Riches of a poor Barber, - Young Young Ladies Book l^elf Go^ Human * Honor, My Mot! Capital, Charactc A Prairi Form at i; The Far Money v Acquain Our Th( Opinion, Happiuc Humilit; Indolen( Just too Effects ( Respect The Be; Aoecdot Hallowe Who is I love tl: "Only r Kind\^ Belshaz Dovvnf;i Waterh The Sa Marco '. ToTra Destrut That y( Whys! Seasons CONTENTS. ZI. Page. - 60 61 - 64 66 ■ ^" n 691 71j 79 83 m\ 92 lUO lOlf 10,'; lOb IJd ir2 no 1-21 i2<) l.M-5 ly; Mil 141 tt, or weak, particular can; should be taken that. ill increasing the a^nount of voice, the tone is not raised above its natural key. This is a tVe(iuent error. The pu- pil, when called upon to " read louder," only raises the key of his voice, without giving it any ndditional strength The consequence of tlm is, that unnatin-al anddisagrec- ble tone we often hear n* the school room, and the fix'ug of habits of reading ;u;d speaking, which are too often found among older memi>ers ol society. II. TIME. r This term, as used by grammariinis, has reference only to the duration of the vowel sound, in ihe pronunciation of syl.ables. It here includes not only this, hut also rapidity, or rate of utterance. It is obvi.uis to every one that the sound of a in hnfc, is longer thanui hat ; of c in mctr, than ni 7ii(t. In this case, time is cohtined to tliQ duration of sound. But something more is necpssary to be observed in readinor. The length of syllables sluiuld not only be considered carefully, but the timr of the sui- pcnsimi of voice bitwan :>ijllahlis. It is chieily the dif- ference in this respect that produces the different le- gie^s of rajjidity among readers and speakers. A hurried, jerking utterance, is fatal to good reading, and much care is to be used, especially with young pu- pils, tha! their pronuncin^ion is not too fast. The o})- posite fault should also be guarthid against, toj)Tevent a ib-awbn^r, ^i^ilIJii-'h habit of reading. This is. if possibh; move disagreeable tlum the fault first mentioned. Time is intimately connected with loudness, Whei- it is neccs.'sary to be heard at a distance, the ^-trenirth ■■■■* the voici- (•^ not only increased, but the fjound of the vov t?U is prolonged. Vlieii it 1.1 ;ikeu that, not raised . Tiic pu- ri'.ii^es the il slreiigtii ;1 (lisai!;rec- , auer manner, it is necessary that tlie pupi! should be w(>ll actjuainted Mith the subject. Unless this is first nttended to, it will be; impossible to adopt tones suita- ble for its e\i)ression. Carefully reading the exercise a few times in silence, will obviate the difficulty and s'liable the reader to })roriounce each word in its proper tone. IV. ARTiri'L.VTION. Articulation is the modification of the voice, effected by the organs of speech, in the formation of syllables ;iiul words. The action of the vocal organs is chiefly <'-ordined to the utterance of the consonant sounds. De- fective articulation may be attributed to three causes : first, bad organs; .second, words difficult to utter, and lU'nd, (I had if.ut it seldom 'Mil irely remedies a bad articulation. Hilt most of the irregularities in i)ronMnciation, which [ . < i V'k ■4 4 1 #9 'liiil itiU t Ifj RULES AXU tsLliOKSTlONS. are so oftun found, are the eirocts ofniiotlior cause — /uihtt An analysis of sounds, and a classificalion of such combinations as are most ditlicult. to uiier, wi>uld he tlevotinfv too mucli space in a work like tliis. Therefore nfew exa;nples only will be jrivcn. 1. When a word of five, or inoru syllables, has the ac^ cent remote, or near the first or last ; as in the word^ au^Aoritatively, /ormidaideness, in/'c/pretatively, inef- fervcsci/>//ity, &c. 2. When there is an immediate fluccessiou of similar sounds, as : '* Uj) tlie //iuh /all Ac Aeaves a //ui:!;e round stone." " Set.ims Sonaw's .sadness charmed from its despair." 3. When the sound is continued from one word to another, articulation is not only indistinct, but the sen« V. ACCENT. Words of more syllables than one are pronounced with accent : that is, a certain stress of voice, is laid uj)on d by custom, and IS usually learned from exercises i ■ipe nso" risHJer sli vr svllabji ♦•rroneoii: A ehai rncnninir, : ( (Tfand, i ted.) roi/t] KiiijdKi paiticular 'f/^>j»r()V(Ml, *;n'a.'-e, bi Hnipha: arc especi • . of stress, It perforn word, and of wliat is Emphib timent: a I 'rion of tin forcible i I previously of each s( the einphr vjT.'iaticui qiiently but little need be said upon the subject here. The iJiM'.s AM) si;(;f;F,STi()NS'. It' render should ho careful, however, to i)hic( .11 its proj)- er sylhihle, as nothing is more fatal togooii rejuling than • ■rroneoiis accont. A <'hanire of aecent, in some words, cliancrcs their menninir, as in /'///(rnst, (the name of a month.) iui^^ust (rrraiid, magnificent;) compart, (closely and firmly uni- ted,) ro/wjiact, (an agreement,) &c. iMiijjlKisis sometimes changes the accented syllabie, paiticularly in antithetic sentences, as : the one was f/ppnncd, while the other was ^proved. Our cares in- i.-n'ise, but our pleasures (/reroute. VI. KMI'ir.VSK^. Kni[»hasis, is 11 dii?tinctiv(! utterance of words, which are o.«pecially significant, with such a (h\gree, and kind of stress, n.s conveys their meaning in the best manner. It performs, in a sontenco, nearly wliat accent does in a word, and points out, by expression, the precise m(>aning of wliat is read or spoken. EmphiLsis is governed by the laws of emotion, and sen- timent: and its principal use, is in the forcihk r/prc'' sion of(/i.(wir/tf. In order to acquire habits of just and forcible emphasis, but little more is necessary, than previously to Uudy ihv. construction, ami meaning of each sentence, and then adopt, as nc^arly aj5 possible, the emphasis with which words arcdisringuislied in con- ver.'iati(\ii. 'if this nde is strictly rolK)we,d. there will be but little dai»ger of error, either in the stressor inflection of wi>r(ls, nd '4 ■^ til m t»1 1 > o IS ttULnS AN!) ->r;(:s;!->:'ri(»NH'. 1^ Hi' 1:-1 M Pauses, til- : iisnonsions ot'voice, arc nsod rMtlior to dls- \hiy certain character?, known as " marks ol" Punctuation." The\ are sever; in numi)er,naiiie!y : Tlio conin»a,( , ) scnncol*)n,( : ) colon, ( ) period, ( . ) interroLration,( ? ) exclamation, ( ! ) ojid the da:^l! ( — / A minute de.scription of these characters is nnnec^v^- s:u'Y here, a^ thev are all found in Uie spelling? hy^^k, or fframinar lus iniporu.iit, hr,svever, that they .should be well un- drrslom! b} every reiMier, as without them a proper divis- ion of sentences cahhoi easily he made. The duration of these pau.,es is nwt arbitrary, and may be varied as the nature of the subject, and circumstances of the reader, shall reijuire. EiuDhali^: p^iuscs, are those slight suspensions of the voice, tint fol!>w the articulation of emphatic words. The.se assisv, not only in giving the word its proper t;n-ce, by distintraishing it from others in the sentence, but allow tune f>r the hearer to fix its true meaning in The mind. Tli ' impnrtaiicc, thci-efore, of (.vbscrvivvg tljr.ve pauses is oLviou.^. viu l.M Li:eTK)\. Inllection is a change of t<»nr, effected during a con- tmuauc^n of sound , or m other words, a bending of the voice, .Ili'Ciions. tiie nifinii.f ' ) and the fall- '!1;ere are two n.iU'Ciions, tne riijing,! ; mu ( ") Dh. PouTiui g <^ives four; the two above iKuncd, cr to (lis- s. Tiie c jjauses. luracter?, seven in : ) colon, (!) ojk! niinoce— .' well tiii- )[)er divi;-'- Liralion of ied us the le reader, oils of the ic words. its proper sentence, | teaninif in (.vbscrvivvo m;y a con- )eiuling of id the fall- ve iKunc'i, ni-LSS AND SLiU-LyriOXg, 10 the monot:>no tmI circiiiTillnM. But to give tiieterm, in- flection, its proper siL''isirication, it api/cars otiierwisc. The monotone is no iuilextion,consiHtiniT in a'contiruin^ tioii <;f the same sonnd, and the circunitlex is the, ri^ina' and fallinLT combined. AkhouLrli the iiitlections vary in intcn.sity, yet by iisinfr the same precaution, and toUowing the direction^; suoire.^lcd under the licad oi" cniphasiii and pause, but little diiricnlty will be lonnd in giving each hifiected syiialde its proper slide. For the assistajice of the pupil, tiie lollowiDg rules arc subjoined : 1. The direct question* has the rising elide, as : Has tlie mail arrived I Did you sfU3 him ? Will you go 1 Have you road ? 2. Tlie pause of suspense, denoting the cense uip finished, re;nt;, 1 1 ■•>,,„„.„„„ ,,,„, ,s.o,.i;,trs will. I.„I .s,...,..,.,, 'i"«-snoi l...ro.„r a v.ll;,iM. lu- ,.s ,„ ""'•• tl"' u.'r.I W/Am/ will, il„- ris„„r unhviiuu U'oiil.l uuUcAU tha, il... y„,i..;^r ,„a„ „n,,.i uA villan, i.,' nr«lrr (<> I.,- r<-s|n'i-M!)I.", •'I I'atlios. „r .M.u.tioM. frnuu'i.lly iiicliiU's (he; vnwv U> tli(' risiiin slide. •''Vv.N.'.ii airr.Miru loryo.ir rlul.hcn. l-v voiir InvMi-r your rou„tnM,v>our own v.rl.us. I.v ("lu- uu^vsty o( «'<« KoM.an ro„un..uu..am,; hy all that .s saru^l a.ul ^'"'I'^t '•< ;l.'.'.r (oyou. ,|,.|,vrraun.iclu..l l»r,ur,> iV.mp UTuh\s(>rv<'(l, iiiiitrr,t •'•''-•'^^^''•I'Hutohrr. Alary ••--.••Sir. IjHvraMvvihat Hum art a prophet. :». 'rh.Tisu.^rslul,. isomimotijvnsr.l at the last pans,- savo ,nMMn a s.M,t.Mu-r, Tht.s ... to rr„.lrr thr .a.lor.co orh.lI..,-. .U- ihrvo.ro. attl... oh,s<> of tlu> sr,,s... ,,,.^0 •ll.'^.JlOt. '* 'l'l'<' "'i.Hn- lon.s to he of ai-c^ ihcu t,. hv a n.nu .^ i>UM!..\s.s, t.lu'a to i.,ak,« up a., e.stato. tlu'i. to retire'." ♦' ''» •n.tithrt.r sc.toi.ct'.s uh(M. hofh trrm.s of the •>ntith(r.,s ar,- e.xprosse.i. the toni.e.r taki'H th,. r..sin. aiiil t-he lattiT tJie talli.io i.it|,H-tion. uio;. (mi "Thf uiclv.Mi js ,inve„ away u. hi.s w ickf.inft^- . tho riiiht.^oiLs hath hope m hi>< (le;\th." *;"«»«m-x ua.stJ,euTeatrstj:e.,.usi V.ruJ ('he hetu. ;rr(ist; inthe one. we luosf adm.r.Mho nu'iu . .tUhooU.cu »»»«' ^v.\rk. lloinei lu.rrics us with ocuu.i.arul.ti.r ,„^ pot.iosKv ; V.rg.l iea.ls „.. with attractive n.iijesty''^- "Talojit ,« i HULLS AND 81'UfiCS I Ii>.\a!. tl Osillir |u!< illcftiiiii, lil.iiii III r Iiiv«' W'.i Mjrsfy of n'«l. and I't* tVolP :ivv that St |)au>i' ;ult'Mc<\ \ more inuu ixi rt \ '» of tlu- rusino, ^' , l»ui l>cttia i . taci Ls momouti'iin. Talent kiituvj^ what to do , tact know? lunv t') doit, Tali'iit inaki'S a man rcspoctaiilo ; ta«'t makes liini respocti'-d. Talent is \ve;iltli : tact is rcidy nit>noy'." 7. When two direct ijiiestioris, expretisinL; oppo^i- /.ion of iiuMuiii^jf, are coimected hy or, the iiillectioii:* are the s.iiM(> as tlie last, ns: Will you i^W)f or stt\y ? Hid ht^ net ui.-ely '. or im- wisely' ? I^'> you read correctly' f (tr incorrectly" ' S. When opposition is not expressed, they lH)th have the risin::^ slide, as : *' Canst tlu)ti hind an unicorn with hisl»;!;iil lu the tiix- r(nv ? or will he harrow after the(> ? Wiltthon trust him I)(n'ause he is gri'at ! or wilt thou h'ave thy lal>i>r to luni V 1). When ncjj^iltitin is opposed to atlirmation, the f(>rine.r bns the risiuiT, and the latter the t'allinu' slide. " This is no titne for a tribunal ot' justice, hut for show- mi: niercv' ; not for accusation, hut for plulanthro[)y' : not for trial, hut for pardon ; not for sentenee and execti- tion. hut tor compassion and kindness.'" \0. If atrirination precmles neii;;:tion, tiie mllt'ctionj* i\iQ reversei^, as in this example ; " You w. TO paid t<> t"iu;ht for Alexajulor ; :iot to rad ,'^t him." 11. Tiie mdiroct (picstivui is [iroiKMinced uith th(> falling inllection. Why this chauiTe in your nppeaxance ? When did he arrive .'. 12. Tiie answers to both the direct and indirect (ine»- tion, have the lallini^ inflection. Will you ride ? iNo: Have y«iu heard the news? YOs When shall you rctiirn ' Tomorr(.">\v ' Whom do yon 5ci^ ! James. mi i. l' 'r^M^H v'%^^H i ^«i '9 il *' '^H * OCT nrLEH AND SIK.GKSTIOXJJ. lo. W..r(ls of c(.mmrmdinir,exhortinLr,reprehen(lin.^ mvokina de..,>uncinndeavor t4> itences, a^ 5*, however the hearer, ed withont ly, in rea/l- ir, than in is, pauses, ? to avoi/i tlier habit, the first. the voice, in r the vowel j^ounds, and a nirrc elevated and llouinii uiauner of enunciation. The principal dilhculty in reading p interfere with the sense ; consequently their introduc- tion depends nuich upon circumstances. To illustrate this, read the following examples : *' His form was fair|| his cheek w;i3 health; IJis word a bond|| his purse vi;ls wealth." ilerethe cesural pause comes nfttr tlie fourth Fvlhibk', and its observance does not, in afiy manner, interfere with the sense. But in this stanza ; ''Death speaks — ah, readjier, d(jf fear?" althougii the measure of the verse is tlie stuiie, yctthc -.ntfoduction tif the pause is a jjidpabk; absnirdity. To become a good reader of poetry, requires mnclj ?tudy nnd delicacy of taste, and it is ind'^-d an accom- In A r i Ul 1" 4 is' 4 % m t^f 1 •24 RULES AXfJ SUGGESTIONS. pl.'shrnent fit which bui few ever arrive; although the real ditficuities attached to the art, are fewer than many iriKiirine. For the benefit of the pupil, the following directions trc jjiven : 1. When the sens'e is dignified, and accompanied with emotions of reverence, sublimity, and awe ; it should be read with but little inflection — approaching a mono- tone. " lie said, and on the rampart-height arrayed His trusty wariors, few, but undismayed ! Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, StUl as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm." 2. A tender or plaintive i^ubject, usually inclines the voice to a rising inflection, as : ".'Art thou, mv GREGonr, forever fl6d? 2\p.d am I left to unavailing woe? When fortune's storms assail t''is weary head, Where cares long since have shed untimely sn6w, Ah now for comfort whither shall I 50!" 3. Neither accent nor emphasis should be changed irom its proper syllalde or word for* the.^sake of metrical harmony. Such a habit not only injures the spirit of poetry, but gives it an aflx'cted sing-song tone, which is peculiarly unpleasant to the ear. For example, read a ferse from "The Nightingale and Glow-worm," by Cow- per, accenting the syllables in Italics : *' The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent — ' Did you admire my lamp, ' (juoth he, ' As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wong, As much as I to «'poil your song." I R 5. :l W'fJl hough the than many follouing THE \m in lompanied ; it Bhoulil g a mono- rayed form, orm." clines the COMMON SCHOOL READER. ead, Ij i^uOw, changed ' metrical spirit of which is e, read a by Cow- K-VERt'I^ES. CHAPTER 1. The Choice. 1. "1 shall not study any longer," exclaimed Alberi. v,arelessly throwing down his book, and overthrowing liis ciiair, as he rose from the table. "My father has given me i)€rmission to choose for myself, and I will no longer pore over these musty books.'' 2. " What has discouraged you?" inquired Edmund, looking up, with anxiety, from the work which they had' been diligently examining. '"Tis all studv, studv ytudy," said the other. " I'm sick of it. Tin sick oj attendmg to one thing;" aiid he left the room, without giving his companion tiuip to expostulate. J3. Edmund ccmtiinuMi in his course of study, and about a week after, he heard mat his friend was engaged in the employment of an euauent merchant, and was^delinhicd with his' new business. ^ 4. A year had not rolled away, when merchandize was more wearisome than books, and Albert had returned fiome to assist his father in the more bumble labors < S '-'1 the tarm. Tj. But when Edmund was about to graduate frtin col- lege his former associate waited upon him, and detailed >ii glowing colors, the magnificeiit prospects of wealth ■:r. i f i 6^' j» I. 4 in- " I 'i«i o>i Mi»\ Ni tioui i:i Mil i; and ijt iiiiih'iii wjuili .iwaih'tl liim. iii .1 Lm: iiHiiit \ , 111 \\iii('li III- w ti:< iiImmK to I'th'.i.M riii-< l.tlll'l hl|->llM'>-. « llll'll llllll Kill Ol ill)- l-DlMlIn, ,'l|ll I '.lltllllllll lt -^i^lil ol In ' li Ii'IkI Ii>i iii.iiin \ * ui (> III 1 1. 1(1, llllll ■>\ li'lUiMiH- jtri ^|-\ t-|;iin r, iimIi, • li-p l>\ 'It-li. Illllll III- ll.'tl i-^I.lltllslici Ills I ciHil 111, 11 |'il|i';MII II. >; ailti ^l.ll>tlll\ >>r I'li.ii iirlri , .iiitl In- iii>\\ - il lu in ird liinl I'.^lrt-iucd, iiiiioii.' ilir |iiiI>.'cn »>I In- ii.iluc l.nu! 7 A nil Ml!.' I lu- imimMii-i ■, w !i.< w ii r oiir (la\ II nil IhIim r llllll , \> a--' «>iii , w It li w lio'i- .i|»|M-.ii aiH I- lir \\ .1-. jMi I iriil.i! 1\ inti'irstiMl Tlu- ii.imr, li«>\\i-\ri, w a^^ iiiikiiowii t»i litiii ami lu' Mi|>|ii«---M-(l aii\ laiilui »iimo--ih , wlnlr In- ai ti'U»l«-»l to (III- ili>» liai^<' ol 111-, oliiii.il iliil\ riir (-IIIII. (i ! whuhtlu |ti i-.oii(-i w a•^ .11 1 ai('iu-«l. \\ 1- loiycn ami the (It »'viiii'>lai»tt'^ ol tin- »• i>i- ili'\ t-lojttil a loii^^ tiaiii o' t! ! ('ijllhivmt'', and \irioi|N IM a« I n-(->. 7 A'- llif til il |»i oi'ov'tlt'd, II w a^ a->«t-i I aiiu'd iImI tiii t>(VrndcM had, at dillru-nl liirr~>. pa>>t-d iindi-i \ iiioii- aitiiurs, tuilil It w a^ mow douUttui w liiili ot lu'lit tx-lon^M-d to hmi Aiiioiii; otli«-i>, I'aliiiuiui ai la>i i<-ioi;in.'(-d dial «»l ill-- I'M Int-iid , AwA hi^ rv-rliiii',> *'oiii|M-ll«-tl li.m to ii\ It! llllll -I'll' ol' ill tail\ |>ii-t(-\i to ad|i>nrii the coiiii S 111 tin- r\i'iiiii!-, !>'- waited ii|>oii Ailifil, and dit-w tu>ui llllll llu- lii>loi> o\' lii> jilr It wa>oii<- ol" iiiaiiv fhatujt-s. jioi immai !v(-d l'\ dailvri liiu's, and all w«ii tJUicd to llu- lal li |'n\ili-.':i ot ol»m»Mii>> lo fhaii!;t' lii^ tMiijdoMiit-iii, wiu-n<'\(-r it i'l-vatiu'. li'r a tmir, dtsayrtM-;,- l>;<' lo liu.i Till' i,;uilt\ tiKiii a]>i>t\ut'«i ilt't-piv iTiiUi-iit t'oi lu> »'. 101, and tliotioh .oon lilniatt-d !'\ tin- t'\(-tti>ni,s t»r lus tl ii-liu 1^ r»u( d i> ' lit' w a> litt d lot 110 toivulai- iMnploviiu-iit , U.; Ill' hid not viMiiuiiu-d •^iitru-u-iul\ loii^' ill am ti> l't'» fv-mt' 'I {Mv^"u-UMii . and ill ln> t>>,tal,>lis\u-d hal'its x-t-incd to cof,si'*(\ •: ' j>ri-|>.n»- linn lor tiMiiptattou, so that lir soi>n j<;^ u- I 'tto Ins r« •rnn-i jnartn-rs; and illnsCatt'd. h\ hi-- t'M-^vi d>u' litr, ;•, ul nion- pitiahu- eml, \\\c fata! t'onsoviiu';u-rs o\ elioo--! n^';, not that wlin-li is e\jUHinMit. but tint \\ Inch is ai;n-(- i\Ac I ( <- iinidi I'l W III 1 I 1 |*-'ihi| l>i'\ on • > I III ' lUi I l..-i«-d I *a' till- I l;li- wi d '''"' "' if s|»,.||, 1 la-l hi' ho\\ r\ I ■riii- i \olllli. '^ " I. t ll'vull' Ins «-li w ho h till' oil hnn ti' I rill- II I'll' .;t' liis tall iMiildn lu re 1 N on Iv sironm <'d -ki otluT. (v ' Irik'-ir ■> $ 1^- nciu \ , It. I l»ll->lllt .lll!l< I III, IX'll, lip I. I If. 'I II I . Il< III Hii lilllil I It'll I'l'liM I II III III. 1< l\ ui lo hiiii nil' lir ;ii riir iTIIii. jyw . .nil' !«; It .1111 «•? • I lliil till •I \ II loll I hrl.MiiM'il ri'>>i;n[.'i-u \vi\ li.m l»» r i'lMii I illlll illfw ot iii:iii\ »1 ill! \\v\f liaiij^t' 111- y j'rij!i!'ii' Sf .it , .1 .1 till ♦liniMtMK anv ti> be- its M'rmi'il > (h:(i he llnsl'attNl, , \\w I'aia' 1,3 r»»MM(i\ SI lin.ti lirXUIK. '27 BSiiiiBiiii;; %nrr ^(|nii*r4'l*i. I ( >Mf itl' llir lili'vl \ .liii.ii.ic |i;|i>iN .>r llli' i.S iha; I'l r .iii|»liMlli!.^ i'\i r\ nihil rl;iklli;. Tile liiiliI .il ills.sijiat l«ll, I'l wliifli |iiMM>ns ,.r I ilnil nihil ijitjiijoc, ami >«t wliicli |»«'l!ia|»-. llirv ail' iihitf piiMir lliaii olliciv, is dc^tnichvr liivoiiil w ii.il r.ni riMiliU he iinaniliri! '.' \ III. I II who Ills josi I he |>it\\ iM i>r |>ioscriiliii«.f a l;isl\, ill ..loiiii'iil il< iiinrli\ iv I'lMic, or It IS Imtoiiu' niniiii- (•riril \>illi ililliriill \ , Ii;!n rrijiicfii Ills iiiiliij into a stIltC *i (III' most l.iiiiruf ililr .nnl wrrlrlinl iiiilirt-illl V. His l;li' will itii'v iial>lv l>r iMir orsjiiciis ami |>alrln's. ■ I. Till* t•lHlS(•|ollv||('•^s of imt lia\iii«i |»i'rsr\ iTcil to ihc ■•ail ol'aiiv MMi'lf uiiilcnaUiii;'. u ill Ikiiil!,' •»N«'r liiiii likt* a -|>i-!l, .mil will piraiv.'r all Ins riuTorirs ; ami lu> will at I 1-1 ln'lii'M'. ili.ii liowcMi r.iir m.i\ l>r Ills [trosju'ft.s, ami li.M\,'\c:' rra.Mltli' lii^ phm.^, h,. is talnl iir\rr to sii(MT«'tl. I 111" ii iImI i'\' fmi^I.ini; oiinlit lo Im> toniu'tl m rariy \i'iitli 1 Some ytMvs a^o, a i;t'ullt'Hiaii \isiliii;.r in a certain |t|;\i-i\ l>ri-auu« sli^liiiv ;uMniainle«l with a .Mr. Alsop who ii'Milcil ilicic. IJeiiio (li'siioiis ol' know mo nu>r<' ahonf Ins «'haia(tff. he in;tilr im|niiit's of aiioihrr litMilh'iiiaii, \\h>< hill known hnu lioin his chililhooil. " Why," s.iid t!n' oilu>r. "as to Mr Also|«, perhaps I »'aii best (lesfiihi* Inm fo \oii hy relatiii.' ,in aiiee«lo|e of his vonlhrni tla\s." riie \mpinei was \erv aitentive to hear the story, ami I'le i^tMilleni.in procefMJed llnis : — .'». " When .loliii Alsop was ahoiit liih-en vears ohi, his l.ilher .in. I another mm wt-re eiioaoeil one dav in 1miiI.Iiii.> ihailuMw lo.;; tene(\ which lhj< lirst s( \tMv laro'e loir on the eronml tor a ronmlaiieii; iIkmi put down what th«>v call- ed -kuls. ,M. droll np another larire h>. .o ju- upon the t>. This rollmor np was hard work, ami reipiired all l1>,<'ir sire.Mufh, am! m>ed(>d to he done verv canfiouslv. tl ill ti ff t; i 'HI 28 COMMON SeHO«L READER. IT?' I"- ' I'll R!HI !u; m i> lest the log sh.Hild slip, or roll back upon them and kill them. The two men were rolling up a very heavy locr with their handspikes, and John's business was to clap under a block on the skid, to keep the log ^afe, while his father should renew his hold with ins handspike.. 7 Having given a good lilt, and tugging with all his might, the father called out to his son, "There Johnnv put under your block (luick." John started very nim- bly a yard or two, and snatched up his block, when suddenly the loud chirp of a squirrel struck his ear Quick as lightning he threw down his block and ran off to cast sto' from Jt attmtioi in labor ox in in; Jiiiish it next, an atteutio 13. I lies, or ising 01 examine iug ill 6 die witl form ha relation aaid of that rui COMMON srilOOL READER, 29 m and kill lieavy log vas to clap safe, while flspike. vith all his re Johrinv, very nim- )ck, when :> his ear. ud ran off, o kill him, the log till iger their laracter of It traii«ac- vcr since." ren ; let it uider.si5aii(l mean that for thirty tainly not. cipal busi- neant that been vcri/ or regular some new ;Ie while ; engage in f l)usiness, me to any c(mi{)any ool. No- very body . fur ijfom U fix apon Mm anoth- that way, d nnd he followed every body's advice. When he had a fiiMiily, and found it necessary to exert himself, he was busy early and late; but it was to very little purpose. He lived in a great many different places, and it is an old and true proverb, tliat a ''rolling stone gathers no tnoss." He very often changed his employment. Now he was a farmer, then a trader, then a post-rider, then a deputy sheriff, then a mechanic of some sort, without first learning tiie art. 11. He would just begin to do a snug business in some pursuit, when he would hear or think of some- thing else; and before any body would know it, he would be scam2)f;nnff after the squirrel. He made, of course, many foolish bargains, lost or threw away, a great deal of his hard earned money, and always kept his family poor. The education of his children has been neglected. They are growing up in habits of idleness and negligence. People say they resemble their father very much, and they fear they will be no better than ' squirrel hunters all their days. 12. Now, let all children and youth take warning from John AIsop. Let them accjuire the habit o^fxtd attention to wJut they are doing. If they are employed in labor, or study, or hearing the instruction of .mother, or in innocent play, let them attend to it at the time, and finish it, and then think seriously what they have to do next, and then go and do that other thing with the same attention and diligence, 13. Let them never leave important business for tri- lles, or take up with a project as a very good and prom- ising one, until they have inquired all about it, and examined it well. Let them be diligent and persever- ing hi every lawful undertaking of life, and "not med- dle with those who are given to change/' t>o let them form habits which will make them respectable in all the relations and situations of life. And may it never be aaid of one oi our readers, tliut he or she is a pfr«ou that runs after squirrels. C 2 .^1 ■ H- ^ ' ^ ,1 i' .1^ "ll !Wi 1'^ ■'if:!; •^0' COMMON Sf'IIOOL READEK. CHAPTER HI. The BiWe. 1 . A nation ni"ist be truly blessed, if it were govcrnetl by no other laws ihan those of this blessed book; it is so complete that nothiuR. It (lefiMidsthe right of all, and reveals vengeance to the de- frauder, ovc^rreacher, and oj)pressor. It is tlu; first book and the oldest book in the world. It contains tlu' elioicest matter, gives the best instructions, atul niWmh the gr(>;it(>st |)leasure and satisfaction that ever were re- vealed. It contains the best laws, and profoundest'mys- l< ries, that ever were }){Mined. ■1 It brings the best tidings, and affords the best comforts to the inquiring and disconsulute. It exhibits COMMON SCHOOL READER ail ? governed >ook ; it is 11 from it t alTords a cs instruc- irection lo 1 impartial it sets the fe as mis- lev how to obedience 3 sway of thority ol' ', and the, of it,s au- sctionsfor I raiment, itlifiil and id father ; idren, and L father to ! IioiiHO in s a dowr) rst born : 3 left. It to the de- irst book, tnins the id afford?- • were rc- de.st'my.s- the best I exhibits life and immortality, and shoWH the waf (o CTcrlastiiaijT glory. It is a brief recital of all that is to come, h settles all matters in debate, resolves all doubts, and cases the mind and conscience of all their .scrupleai. It reveals the only livin«if and true God, and shows the way to him ; and sets aside all other {[(ods, and tkv ribes the? ranity of them, and of all that put their trust in them. CIIAPTEIl IV. A Colli ra^t. 1. In onr earliest years, the wronrr and gixx! we tixt, mark iis for more mature ajre. Were this more deeg>ly impressed u\)on our minds, how dilferently we should act even in our smallest concerns. Look at that school-boy, who with every deceitful net, cheats his teacher ; in play with liis school-mates, by unfair means, wins the game; speaks to another's ivtirt, timt himself niny be promoted ; borrow.s and never re- turns : is ever dissatisiiein onies hiin- umlcr his oa, stands ini, or tlie UM of OUT inaiihood. ilthoujjh it to lorni in t)\v experi- Instead of se wlu) so ' strive to But holiest rite or longest prayer Tl>at soul can yield or wisdom frame, What better import can it bear Than, " Father ! hallowed be Thy name!" 3. The savajrc, kuoeling to the sun, To give his thanks or ask a boon; The raj)tures of the idiot one Who laughs to see the clear round moon ; The saint, well taught in Christian lore ; The Moslem, prostrate at his tlanic — All worship, wonder, and adore ; All end in " Hallowed be Thy name." t, Whate'er may be man's faith or creed, Those precious words comi)rise it still ; We trace them on the blooming mead. We hear them in the ilowiug rill ; One chorus hails the Great Supreme; Each varied breathing is the same. The strairis may ditler ; but the Tjir.Mi: Is, "Father! hallowed be Thy name!" 4 (tji CHAPTER VI. Ibo Im iity rVcL^liVoor? 1. Thy neighbor f li is he whom thou Hast i)ower to aid and bless — Whose achinsi heart and burning brow Thy soothing hand may press. 2. Thy neighbor? 'T is the fainting poor, Whose eye with want is dim — I 'd mm iU <'<»M-M()\ s('nV»y)i, RrAr)i:n. Whom Imnrror sonds frorn door lo door- (i<> flioii ;i|.(l succor him. •J. 'I'hy Moiirl.lH.r .' •'[' is tl.;,t ucary m;in, Whose years ar<' af their hrim— IJeiit low with sickness, care and pain- Cio tliou and comfort him. i- 'IMiy neiiild.or? "I' is the lieart heroft <>t every earl hi v wm : Widow and «)r()lian helpless left ^»" tlion and shelter them. >'>. Where'er tiion meet'st a hnman Inrm liC.^s lavonred than thine own, lv(MnendKr 't is thy neiirhhor worm, Tiiy hrother or thy son. ^'. Oh, pass not, pass not iieedless-Jty ; l'erlia])s i.h.lf canst redeenv 'I'ho breakincr heart from misory (^o, share thy h,t with him. KibB« of li9li'iii|u>a*:iiice. I. (Nndd all the forms of evil, pro.luced by intern- .HTance, come npon ns, in one horrid array, U wonid Mpp:d the nation, ami pnt an end to ti.etrallic in ardent .^ -pints 11 m every dwellniir, built by bh.od, thestone.- -.t^-lslunddntterthecr^^^^ | t., fhc extur s. and the beam on., of the tind.er .honhl I <^('ho them back, wl ul )o i«) wonid Ixiild such a I uonM dwell in it ? What if louse, and m every j)art of the <■o:^i.Mt)^• !S» iiooi. kladiji. 3d Mwciliiiix, iVoiii the C('II;ir iipwiird.-;, tlin»iior|i ;ill tlic luills jiiiifl cliiuiilxTs, bahljliiiirs anil (Contentions were licard -^ nj)on tlic walls, and i)y prrtcrnatural I'.rt all tlic irliastlv sknils and Ixijics rd" tlu' victims destroyed l)v int('ni|)('iance slioidd stand npon the walls, in horrid .'Cnlptnre within and uithont the hiiildinn', — who would read it .' — What it' at eventide, at niidniirht, th(^ airv r(»rins of men, destroyed by intemperaiiee, were dimly seen haiintiniv (he (listillerie■^ and -tores, wher(> thev ro ceived their bane — lollowinL'' the track of tin* vessel eniraifed in the connnerce — walking upon the water — fUitini; athwart tiu; deck, and sendmo- up from the jiold within and the waves wiiliout, t^roaiis, and loiul janitnts, and wailinirs ? Who would atteni] ^uch stores — who would iiavi^ ^^'*^^^ respecting the field of wheat adjonimg such a wood" =' I e instantly recollected the circumstances.-- Well anu, ne crop, s most promising: and 1 haye therefore l)rought the hfty dollars back again." ^^^retoie 4. -Ah!" exclaimed the ^Tneral)le Earl ''this is what lidce-tlns is what ought to be between\na^^^^^^ n'^kTm/hir"'''''^ '"'" conyersation with the farmer. a^King him some questions about his family— how minv children lie had, &c. His Lurd.hip then w^nt h2 1, Di in need benefitt< throwin, and res[ ed to 1( their ai and thej realities They sc ^ ways of I wreck. 2. Hf of year^ learn, tl intereste over for been tai noyiciat and will enjoy me witiiout 3. Le and intc COMMON SCHOOL HEADER. 37 to represent "jureti, in a loiinds had, Jle stated 1 destroyed, produce. I am aware iud that we •an procure [ wijj repay Lordship's a friend to ey thought fty dollars iiniediately wever, ap- ^f tJie field t and most and beinj;r ►ecting tJie — " Weil, ^muneratc '^'"Stained ■ ut up the therefore , "this is man and e ftirmer, ow many VGiit intc^ nnotlier room, and returninrr, presented the farmer a check for one hundred dollars. 5. " Take care of this, and when your eldest son is of age, present it to him, and tell the occasion that pro- duced it." We know not which most to adjnire. the benevolence or the wisdom displayed by this illustrious man ; for whde doing a noble act of generosity, he was handina down a lesson of mtegrity to another generation. "^ CHAPTER IX. A f nllle^^s Ailvicc to lii» Son. 1. Dear Son— At no time of life, do we stand more in need of paternal counsels, or are more likely to be benefitted l)y them, than at the period when we are throwing off the boy, and arc about to assume the cares and responsibilities of manhood. Youth arc accustom- ed to look only upon the bright side of the picture • their anticipations are sanguine; their hopes ardent ' and they need to be brought often to consider the sober realities of life, to check their unreasonable aspirations 1 hey see not the sands and l)reakers which beirird the ways of life, and upon which veiy many are early shio- wreck. They need the experienced pilot. ' 2. Having served in this capacity for a score or t^vo ot years, in the school of experience, where all may learn, though all do .ot learn to profit, and being deeply interested in your future welfare, I propose to make over for your use, some of the lessons which I have been taught in the school where you are yet but a noviciate. They constitute capital, if put to good use and will be sure to make good returns, in the multiplied enjoyments of life. These will be given as they occur witliout regard to arrangement. ' 3. Learn early to depend on yourself Your physical and intellectual powers must be your main dependence Uii i \i H t , *IS 11 ,11 38 COMMON SCHOOL RCADEB. IV ;:! for fame ajiri fortune, The ground has been fitted for the seed. Your liiuids have been taught to labor ; your mind to reflect. You must be tlie hii.sbandman ; you must sow the seed, and nurture the phmts; and the re- ward of tlie harvest will depiMid upon your personal dili- gence and good management. Jf you sow tares, you cannot reap wheat ; if you sow idleness, you will reap poverty; lor however abundant tl>e i)iji ntal beciuest, few can retain wealth, who have never been accustomed to earn it. 4. Beware of extremes — the two often meet — and by following the one too far, we often insensibly slide into the other. Thus, j)rudence may run into parsimony patriotism into peculation : sell-respect, into pride ; and temperance in our habits, into intemperance in our par- tialities, prejudices and passions. While you claim and exercise, as the high prerogatives of a freeman, the free expression of your political and religious opinions, and the right of disposing of your time and property in any way, that shall not infringe upon the rights of others, nor compromit the peace and good order of society, fail not to respect the same rights in your neighbor, whom education or association may have imbued with ()|)inions ditfering from your own. 5. Reform others by your example : for you can never make a sincere proselyte, in religion, politics or morala, t)r even in the arts of labor, by coercion. You may com- pel men to become hypocrites, sycophants and servik imitators, but you do A at the expense of the feeling> that dignify our nature — at the expense of piety, patriot- ism and self-respect. Be moderate 'u all things — in ymir pleasures as well as in your toils : in your opinions and in your passions. Past experience should teacli vou, tiiat your opiiiions may honestly change ; and how- ever lonii vou mav have cherished wrong ones, or obsti- ntitely defended them, to renounce error, when palpable, will shed lustre upon your character. As it is human to err, so it is magnanimous to confess and renounc on?'s faults. (1. Fnterineddle not ofliciously in the affuirs o^ others COMMON SCHOOL RKAOER. 59 en fitted for ubor ; your (lm;ui ; you and the re- ersonal dili- ttires, you lu will reap )e(iuest, few iustoiiicd tu *ct — and hv y i>lide into parsimony . pride ; and in our par- u claim and an, tlie free )inions, and )erty in any s of others, of society, r neiiihbor, mlAied with »u can never s or niorali). u mav com- and b^ervilc he feelings ety, patriot- thiniTs — in ur opinions lould teacli ; and how- es, or ob.sti- ;n palpable , it iis human i renounc* » of others Your own concerns will demand all your care. Those who busy themselves with other people's business, sel- . Br something: do not be a drone. You may relv upon your present possessions, or on your future pros- pects, but those riches may fly away, or other hopes may l)e blighted, and if you have no place of your own in hIoV"'' w'.'? '"^"' you find your path beset ^ith thorn... What may come upon you, ere you are aware ot It, and having no pn)fessi(m, you find yourself in any thing but an enviable condition. It is therefore im- portant that you should he somethinxr. Do not denend ociice. i rust to your own exertions (). Be Something. Pursue that vocation for which you are h!,ted by nature; pursue it faithfully and dili- ^ ^^outly. You have a part to act, and the honor in per- Jorinnig that part depends upon yourself. It is sicken- ing t., one, to see a parcel of idle boys, hangincr round a latuer, spending the money which he has^ earned by '1^ HHlustry, without attempting to do anythino- for Homselve.. Be so.nthing, should be their motto. Everyone IS capable of learning some *' nrt trad- or 'nystcrv,' and can earn a competence for himVolf ' / ii^^ ^.hoiild be somttking, md not bring dowu the w, COMMON SCHOOL IICADBR. 4J nors upon c nothiiKT re certain r. Do not "e his cir- o pursue, he has a ■haps that :c. which u they go )iii]jlacen- ir tathers o has the »o ranked le such a may rely ure pros- jpes may ' own, in !.sct with re aware if in any 'fore im- t dejiend ch often St confi- r which and dili- r in per- '' sicken- g round irned by ing for motto, rade, or df. )wu the I ffray hairs of his father with sorrow to the grave He should learn to depend upon himself. Idle boys, living upon a parent, without any profession, or without any employment, are illy qualified for good members of so- ciety. And we regret to say, it is toe often the case, that it is the parent's fault that they are thus brought up. They tdiovild be taught io be something ; to know how to provide for themselves, in case of necessity, to act well their part, and they will reap the honor which therein lies. CHAPTER XL The Boy of Bagclat. 1. There are many persons who regard every species of labor as an evil. Children are often unhappy, because they must study, in order to acquire knowledge ; and men and women sometimes complain, because they must sow before they can reap. To all such persons I would tell the following allegory, which may suggest the lesson that industry is a blessing, and indolence a curse. 2. There was once, in the city of Bagdat, a little boy, who was poor, and obliged to earn his daily bread, by rearing flowers in a small garden. As the price of flow- ers, in" that luxuriant climate, is extremely low, he was compelled to be very industrious, in order to obtam necessary food and clothing. But still he had good health, and he ate his coarse meal with high relish and satisfac- tion. 3. But this was not his greatest pleasure ; his flowers were a perpetual source of enjoyment. They were his flowers; he planted them, /ic watered them, pruned and nurtured them. Besides all this, they were the source of his livelihood. They gave him bread, shelter and rai- ment. He therefore loved them as if they were his com- panions. He saw them spring out of the ground, with C2 v., 1 *)ki. 1 4 n| : . '% 4Z m I! : COMMON SCHOOL READER. pleasure ; he watched the budding leaves and unfbldina flowers, with delight. '^ 4. But at length, discontent sprung up in his mind and in the evening of a hot day, he sat down in his garden and began to niurinur. "I wish," said he, "that flowers would plant, and prune, and water themselves. 1 am tired of this in- cessant toil. Would that some good genius would step m, and brmg me flowers already made, so that I nii(rht be saved all this trouble !" "= 5. Scarcely had he uttered this thought, when a beautiful bemg in bright colors stood before him, and said—" You called me, boy ; what do vou desire V' " I am weary of my employment," said the bov " I live by cultivating flowers. I ani obliged to toil, dav by day, with unceasing industry, and I am only able to" ob- tain my daily bread. If I mistake not, you are a kind and powerful genius, who can give me flowers if vou will, and save me all his toil." 6. " Here !" said the genius, holding forth a beautiful tan of feathers, "take this; wave it over the earth in your flower-pots, and the brightest blossoms of Cashmere will spring up at your bidding !" Saying this, the spirit ]e to ob- c a kind rs if you beautiful earth in ash mere he spirit :reat dc- >ots. A lalJy un- )ss-rose, iced not e found desired. s" of his. e there • hit now er him. ' loufrcr , in the •ir verv odor l)ccame sickening. The poor boy was iinhap})y, and again began to 'iuirinur. 0. " I wish,'' said he, "the genius would come back, and take away this foolish fan." in a moment, the bright being was standing by hi? side. " Here," said the boy, handing forth the fan ; " take- back the charm you gave me ! Forgive me, sweet genius ; I was mistaken. The weariness of indolence, is far worse tiian the weariness of industry. 1 loved the flow- ers which were produced by my own skill and care; but things which cost notliing, are worth nothing. Take back the charm, and leave n'le to that humble happiness which my own industry can secure, but which your po- tent s];ell would chase away.' CHAPTER xir. ft love the Spring. I . I love the blest Spring ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving its soft, pure air ? For it comes from heaven with a mandate bright.. To free the cold earth from its winter's night. 'I 'T is nature's morning ; and wlio shall dare To chide me for loving her beauties rare ? My heart leaps out, with each bright green thing. That starts into life, at the voice of Spring. 3. 'T is earth's bridal hour ; and who shall dare To chide me for wishing her joy to share ? For loving the gems, and the jewels bright, She's spread o'er her bosom, to greet our sight. ;,! Ji 4. Tis the birth-time' of (lowers ; and wlio iliall dar^^ til • fell!; " ■*• *^ f'OMMON SrnoOL HEADER, To cliide me for lovin.ir tlic hriaht hues they wear !• or courting the odors they joyounly fling, When they'r funned by the wand'ring zephyr's wing. ■"»• T is a type of heaven ; and none shall dare 1 o elude n,e for striving to enter there, Where frosts never come, nor winter winds si.h <> or the loved and the beautiful, born but to die ,j:,i|!iil[ ' ; 1 CHAPTER XIII. \ Exodus x. 17. 1- '' Onh/ f/u's ourc^'^Vhe wine-cnp .lowed ^ ^ All sparkling with its ruby ray, ' The Bacchanalian M-elcome flowed, And folly made the revel gay. 'I Then he, so long, so deeply warned, ^ The sway of conscience rashly spurned 1 1 IS promise of repentance scorned, And coward-like to vice returned. '*^ " O/A/3, f/a, onrrv'^The tale is told. He wddly (juaffed the poisonous tide: With more than Esau's madness sold The birth-right of his soul-and died, 4. I do not say that breath forsook The clay, and left its pulses dead im reason in her empire shook And all the light of life was fled. .u lyr's wing, are (h siffh t to (lie. COMMON SCHOOL RRADER, -5. A:^aiii his eyes the landscape viewed, His limbs airain their hurdeu bore, And vears their wonted course renewed. But hope and peace returned no more. 0. And angcl-eyes with pity wept, Vvlien lie, whom virtue Cain wonld save, Ilis sacred vow so falsely kept, And stranfjelv sounrht a drunkard's o-ravo. 7. '•' Onlif this, nncf y — Beware, — beware ! — Gaze not up(»i th(! bhisliiiii»- wiiio : Repel temptation's syren snare. And j)rayerlul seek fur strcivi(th dLvino. 4/ o .m I ti >..«ii CTT AFTER XTV 1. Would thou a wrmderer reclaim, A wild and reckless spirit ti'ine — Check tlie warm ilow of vouthful blood, And lead a lost one bacfk to God ? Pause, if thy spirit's wrath i)e sti^d, Speak not to liini a i)i!tcr u'ord ; Speak not — that bitter v.ord may bo The stamp that seals his destiny. *2. If widely he has gone astray. And dark excess has marked his way., 'T is pitiful — but yet, aware Reform nmst come from kindly care, Forbid thy [)arlinir li})s to move, Rut in thofrenlle tones of love; •v-l Ui COMMON SCIiOUL IlEAJJEI', Hi Though s:idly his yotin^r heart hath erred' Hi)eak not to liim one bitter word. 'I The loworincr frown he will not f>car, The vcnoni'd cliidings will not hear ; The ardent will not brook 'JMie stinging tooth of sharp rebuke, Thou wouldn't not goad the restless 'j^teed To calm his fire or clieck his speed Then let no angry to*nes be heardr— ^peak not to him one bitter word. 4. Go kindly to him— make him feel, ? Your heart yearns deeply for his weal ' Tell him the dangers thick that lay • Around hij< wildly devious way, So shalt thou win him, call him back From i)leasure's smooth, seductive track. And warnings thou hast mildly givei . ■Mtiy guide the wanderer up to Hejiv^-n. 11^ CHAPTER XV. I. Hour of an Empire's overthrow ! ^ ^ The Princes from the feast were gone ; The Idol flame was burning low; 'T was midnight upon Babylon. t!. That night the feast was wild and high ; That night was Sion's gold jjr-fnned •' The seal was set to blasphemy ; 'I'lie luat deep cup of wrath was drained. .|;i COMMON SCHOOL READKR. 47 ^y 'Mid jewelled roof and silken pall, Belsh.'izzar on his couch was flung; A l)urt»t of thunder filled the hall — He heard — hut 't was no mortal tongue :— 4. " King of the East, the trumpet calls, That calls thee to a tyrant's grave ; A curse is on thy palace walls — A curse is on thy guardian ware : ;>. •' A surge is in Euprates' bed, That never filled its bed before ; A surge, that, ere the morn be red, Shall load with death its liaughty shore. a. " Behold a tide of Persian steel ! A torrent of the Median car : Like tlanie their gory banners wheel ; Rise, Kincr, and arm thee for the war I"'* 7. Belshazzar gazed; the voice was past — The lofty chamber filled with gloom ; But echoed on the sudden blast The rushing of a mighty plum^e. 8. lie listened ; all again was still ; He heard no chariot's iron claug ; He heard the fountain's gushing rill, The breeze that through the roses sang. y. He vslept ; in sleep wild murmurs came ; A visioned splendour fired the sky ; He heard Bclshazzar's taunted name ; He heard again the Prophet cry— 10. ^' Sleep, Sultan ! 'T is tliy final sleep : Or wake, or sleep, the guilty dies. * 'i»|i ■'I I H l:i 48 COMMON- iHllOHL UilADLR. •T' I I The vvroiigK of tlioso who watch and weei) Aroujid thee, and thy nation rise." H. He started; ^niid the battle's yell, He saw the Persian rushing on'; He saw the flames around liim j^well : Thou'rt asJie« ! King of Babvlon •I !. li ■If CHAPTER XVI. Tliere h a Gotu 1. Go out beneatii the arched lienven in nhmV- uu ^md gJocun, and .ay ,f you can, "There i ^ G<^ " ronounce tlua dread bJa.phe.n , anewad your utter hopc.h>ssness and desj)alr. ' ^cZ\}^\^n'"^^'''^--^h'^''''' HnroJled that blue .1 '• r'"'" "''"" ''' ^'''^^' Ircntispiece t]i(> Ivnhll ^^unn^s on,,,,,,dity? Who fasllioned this gr ^ e.ir h-u,th 1 sperpetuni rolling waters and it. evpan'e o. island and ma.u? Who settled the found ion of -he mo,u.t,-uns ? Who p;ned the he- , ons w il Sds and attuned, andd bauners of storn.s, the v, e oS aniifl^s;!--^^::;;;^'^^'^^ abode annd the fon-sts that ever echo to tl mS "' of her n^oan? Who, n.ade thee, oh Man v hh Z perfect elegance of intellect and form ^Jwho ,n- e herald t the Hrst bcs.ut.tul flashes of the nforning? nr^lJl^^r^:':; -f ^^'.'-^ ^y^-^etry of smews and . , ■ . •'^^''" reguliir flouniLr of blood? The ' h\ e and darinir irre -Prcssi- passions ol uinoition and of love ? And COMMON SCFHJOL RKADKIi. ).)H > 49 yet the thunders of heaven and the waters of earth are calmed .'—Are thcfe no floods, that man is not swept under a dehiae ? They remain, hut the 1)gw of recon- ciliatjon liantrs out, ahove and heneath them. 5. And it were better that the limitle.'^s waters and the strong mountains were convulsed and commin.rlcd together— it were better that the very .stars were con- flagrated by fire, or shrou(h'd in eternal gloom, than that one soul should be lost, while Mercy kneels and pleads for it beneath the Altar of intercession. .<» % ■SftI r.i flight's pro- no God!'' star above 'S of ijitel- winds, will 1 that blue 1h' legible this green « expanse ndation of th clouds, e of thun- and lurk, ^ the tem- 'd trancjuil linstrelsy with thy ho made ig and a norning? lows and 'reprcssi- J ? And CHAPTER XVII. Iiitellcetiml and j^Ioral l^lclgicafion CoiBlra^iledfi. 1. Intellectual education, in its antithesis to moi tl education, is as the miner to the smelter of ores. The one seeks the quarry, rends the strata, and finds the coarse gray metal, that has slumbered for thousmids of years ui the eudjraces of the stones : the other causes the pure gold to flow out in a ductile mass of richness and splendor, disconnected from the dross, imd fit for the crown of an Empire. 2. The one is the Pioneer, that explores and runs the l)oundaries of a country, fixing upon the sites of its cities, and stretching its map across its rivers and mountains : the other is the husbandman, who enriches the soil witii the waving harvests of plenty. The one is the advan- ced guard, commencing and bringing on the skirmish : then, perhaps, retreating; the other'is the heavy column ot battle, that shall not wave under its heaviest tiumder, or break into cimfusion before its most fearful avalanches! 0. The one is the wliite capped surge, running brok- en, and confusedly, before the chariots of the st(^.rm : the other is the mountain wave, which j)ulsates from the bottom of the sea, rolling onward, strunoer and strono-er, D * It ^M .50 COMMON SfllOOL READER. 'I "i until It becomes a wall of power, that the di?k of God'j invention, the sand-beach alone, caif withstand. The one is the Hash, the smoke, and tiie voice of the cannon • the other its noiseless messenger, that bears more than the wrath of the thunderbolt on its wing. The one is the chill winter, with its lustered snow-wreaths its icicles, pendant in Odin's halls in his northern palaces Its flashing, keen-eyed siars, but with its desolation and Its chill : the other is the verdunt spring, with the breath ot flowers, and the song of birds, bearing on its green bosom the hope of the year, and the i)romise of plenty 4. The one is the war of tlie elements, trampling down the green fields, and bearing destruction, and ter- ror in its desolating course : the other is the sweet calm of nature, the beauty and the glory of the heavens, and the earth, reposing in perfect security— like an infant on Its mother's bosom, and drinking at the fountains of pleasure and happiness. The one is the Earth —the other is the Heaven, of the soul. CHAPTER XVHI. Chapiter lor Yoioig Ma^n. 5 I know a man who is very rich now, thoucrh he wa^ very poor when he was a bov. He said his itither faught him never lo play, till all his w«)rk for the day was iunshod, and never to spend money, untd he had earned it. it he had but half an hour's work to do in a day Jio was taught to do that the first thing, and to do it in fialt an hour. /Vftor this was done he could play and my young friends jcnow ho could play with a great deal more pleasure, than he could if he liad the thoucrht of ms unhi.ishod work still on his mind. He says he^earlv tormod the habit of doing every thing in its Jeason and U soon became porfbctly easy i'or liinrto do so. It 'is to this habit that he owes his present prosperity, I am COMM* N SCHOOL HEADER. /i( k of Gocl'j and. The le cannon : more tlian The one is re;iths, its n palaces, )l;ition and the breath I its green of plenty. trampling II, and ter- iwcet calm ivens, and an infant untains of arth, — the liough he !iis father ; day was d earned in a day, ) do it in lay; and reat deal ought of he early ison, and It is to '. I am very happy to add, that he delights to do good with his riches. '2. Young men, be industrious. If you are prodigal of time — are indifferent as to what use you make of "^it, you will contract bad habits, <>f which it will be no easy matter to rid yourselves. It is weU to look forward to t|'<- tutiire, and mark the evils arising from a lazy, idle lite. Think of the time when you will begin to act for yourselves in the more trying scenes of after years think what v/ili be your character and reputation then, if you now waste your days in trifles and follies. •5. Cut if industry is stamped upon your characters, great will be your enjoyment. You will not only be respected and loved, but you will never lack for employ- ment. In one pursuit or another, you will be constantly engaged, and of course prove to be useful men. On the other hand, if you contract bad h:'bits — dislike the jdea of constant employment — you will begin by degrees? i) bo ai:s,itis!ied with your business, and continually wish for >5ome chaiige. ■i. You will often be led to say, ':' My occupation ik an unpleasant one, in which I shall never be able to ac- complish much." With such feelings, you will be dis- satisfied with every thing about your' business, and ardently desire to make some change, which you will conjecture to be for the best. You will always conv plain. Nothing will seem to go right. Your mind will be {illed with unpleasant thoughts, and periect hatred to your business will ensue— and the thought of spending all your days about such an employment,— oh ! it is hor*^ nble. It cannot be endured; and, in an unguarded hour, you will burst the fetter that seems to bind you— and what will be the result? Instead of feeling that happy state of mind which you contemplated, uiiiiappy tiioughts will distress you, and you will regret the step you have taken, which, unless retraced, may prove your ruin. ' ^ o. Now all tliis arises from triHing causes: a little dissatisfaction may make you tlilatory— you will asso- ciate with idle companions, and work yourselves into n r ■ 1 ■'4 V''l9 !^w ( 1 > ♦ i COMMOxV SCHOOL READKR. I ,iiif:;i! III! the boliof ili.it you, of all others, are under the severest restraints. Contiiiuo to nurture this feclinir, iuid it ])ro- duces all th;it dissat' action which is the prolific source ol" .sorrow and misery. Me industrious then, whatever may be your callinir or i)roiession, and you will reap tiie idorious rewards in a life ol' uselulne.ss and hapi)inei!s. CIIAl'TEll XIX. « 1. A man wislied todruin anuirshypooi in hiso-arden, and very impriid(Mitly tin-ued the water under tiuMencc. into his neiirhbor's irardon. The man, whose riulus were thus invaded, was a Christian, lie said nothmfthe will, and sometimes of mere human volition! What domestic unhappiuess — what downward marche-', "f the otherwise worthy, toward the gloomv and solitary abodes of poverty— what anxious solicitude that tills the ''i-east of the dependent wife — what arduous wrestling niththo demon of dpspMJr-^M'hat -social wretchedness— '•vh;it national evils are all denicte?! in the -pirit cf thjt expression ! D '2 it i ■ ii] I ! . J. i-l ■p. Hi ' ■•? I ,■ <: i ■ ^ f: m all 54 COMMON SCHOOL RF.ADKR. 2. It is the language only of tlio self-vvretchod — the determination of the weak and imbecile. It is tiie voice of the moral coward, who, standin;r upon the shore of some desolate island, in the stormy ocean of life, and looking out upon the billows, strewn with the wrecks of earthly grandeur and human happiness, is so blinded by fear that he cannot see the gleam of hope that flickers amid the surrounding gloom. 3. It is the articulated feelings of the traveller of the desert, who, having gained an eminence, sees nolhin*r but a barren plain before him, thirst parching his tongue^ and weariness subduing his strength. But shall he lie down without hope? Nay, lethini press forward, make but one effort, and a green oasis will meet his vision, a cool stream will bubble up from some unforeseen foun- tain, and he will reach his journey's end, crowned with the rich reward of persevernnce. 4. It is easy to see that he, who relies upon self ex- ertion, has not one chance, but a hundred chances. Let a stoic arise, who shall reveal the resources of man, and tell them they are not leaning willows, but can and must datach themselves ; that with the exercises of self-trust, new powers shall appear ; that man is the word made flesh, born to shed healing to the nations ; that he should be ashamed of our compassion ; and that the moment he acts for himself, tossing the laws, the books, idolatries, and customs, out of the window, we pity him no more, but thank and revere him — and that teacher shall restore the life of man to spleudcr, and make his name dear to all history. CHAPTER XXI. Npeak ill a-f no Man. l. There are many persons in the world who are in the habit of speaking lightly or contemptuously of their neighbors, and soma who do not scruple to treat those I who ar n\) thei alhidin nothini biting ; ing, be lowshij good. 2. Il times f to soci( ineanin general situatio others discovc some o 3. Il ox am in '§ withou I any fan I subject be bett of whi selves, and th( would human commi awaits 4. I their C let thei wish tc the sur certain neath : COMMON SCIIOOt READER. OO- ?tchod — the is tlie voice lie shore of of life, and e wrecks of i blinded by luit flickers reller of the lea nothing liis tongue. sliall he he ^v.'ird, make lis vision, a eseen foun- owned with pen self ex- ances. Let 3f man, and m and must f self-trust, word made It he should ^le moment , idolatries, II no more, hall restore ime dear to • 1.1 »: who are in sly of their treat those I who are absent with the greatest disrespect, by showino- n\) their faults to those who are present, without ever alludin^T to any good qualities they possess. There is nothing so detestable in society, as this habit of back- biting ; it often produces the greatest bitterness of feel- ing, between those who ought to live in peace and fel- lowship towards each other, and it never . does any good. 2. Ft generally arises from a selfish feeling, but some- times from thoughtlessness : in either case it is injurious to society, and ought to be condejnn(>(l by every well meaning and sensible person. Selfish persons have generally such an appreciation of themselves, and the situation they hold in society, that they are apt to speak ol' others with contempt, and are even h;'ppv when they discover the least fault ( however trivial it may be ) in some of their neighbors or acquaintances. 8. Instead of which, it would be as well for them to examine their own conduct, to see whether they arc* without fault, and ask themselves whether they would like auy fault or foible, of which they might be guilty, to be the subject of conversation among their neighbors. It would be better, if they were to consider the noble destiny, of which all mankind partake in cc.mmon with them- selves, both as respects the great moral end of this life, and the more sublime prospect of the future — if they would remember the great fellowshij) of our common humanity; the social end, which, as part of a greni community, we are all working to attain, and which awaits us at the close of our brief existence. 4. Let them reflect upon these things, and not offend their Creator by injuring their fellow creatures; rather let them judge others with tenderness, as they would wish to be judged, putting aside the weeds that cover the surface of the characters of their neighbors, to as- certain the depth and sweetness of the clear water be- neath it. ■ h.i 1 ■ { ■ : ^ J ri tM ,ii f * i 'M^ , ^ ' , .u 'I, I i..\c P 1! COMMON SCHOOL READER. CHAPTER XXII. He wa*s a €la«s-Miate oJ* iiiinc. 1. How often is heard the remark, "Oh ve^ I rp, HKMHber m.n; ho Mas a ch^s-mate of n,ine"-:a„d tli^ u.ua]> foliows^oine coiic.«e, graphic sentence, aning < bird, s-eycvu wot ,he wlu.Je character ; and thoni It KS .some in.es a caricature, it niore Ire.iuently bear."a cio.se anaJooy to truth. ^ 2. -(JJi yes, I i-enieinber him : he was in the law-ofhce »t ; ile co.dd i.ot drmk a ffJa.s.s of wine without becoming excued, and it was the amusen.ent cHu! companions t„ imhic<> liim to take the first operation of it." " ' =J. ^^d a gentleman to a Iriend, "Did vou know , '' ".■' ^^^ -studied at C, and went to' tJie west ^v..e^o, i)our tellow, in a iv^v montlis he died. He wa> a ..iperioryoungman, 1 believe-n.uch depended on by hi. 1 unily-pcssessed a good nniid, was very ambitions and proinis.. ,a,r l.r worldly advancemeni and pros- ami \u> head hiid h)w m the grave." -1. "Ah yes I remember^him; but h't memory be sden , and partial iViends imagine or believe ail that i '^'<'";"- to the kmd relatives, who doafed on him 1 ^^''Zo ''? '71 "-^^-^-- ^>i" - am>ctionate | tdth 1 ueie .soon laughed to scorn, thrmighthe influence o t lose to whom he ) ielded, because fiS thought t i^i .J^^'^W. ; and so, accor.ling to the world's%ode o etiquette, they were; made so, however, by their rela. t ve po.s,tion in socic-ty through tluur friends, and not From ndierent qualities, in themselves, which cat aloe constitute true gentlemen. " Jiipel by an affectation of superiority, which is never manifested by the truly wise: and' throuoh hi. olv,, vanity he was f{( , and I is never hi.s own .^corn, de- i, and the sorrow and pity of those who were estiniahio, and whose friendship lie might have cultivated with honor and ad- vantage." (>. Are i/ou in school ? are you in college ? or do yon anticipate, (l with every rememberaiice of you, t!u-oiioh life. ' 1! CHAPTER XXHf. rtlM IV I'LVvimui, I. I had thought of the Kremlin, as the rude and bar- barous palace of the Czars: but J found it one of the most extraordinary, beautiful and magniticent objects I ever beheld. J raiubled over it several times, with ad- miration, without attempting to cwmpvehend it all. Its commamling situation on the banks of tlu^ iMoskwa river; its high and venerable walls; its numerous bat- tlements, towers, and stee[)les; its magnificent and gorgeous palaces; its cathedrals, churches, monasteries, and belfries, with their gilded, co))pered and tin-plated domes; its mixture of barbarism and decay, magnifi- cence and ruins; its strong contrast of architecture, mcliuliug the Tartarian, Hin(h)o and (Jothic : and, I fisiug above all, the lofty tower of Ivan Veliki, with its ''i.^ M i> * •! ^liii I golden ball, rollecting the un with da/zliuor brill lancv, 58 COMMON SCHOOL READER. 'II 'li III "ll. u dtogether exhibited a beauty, grandeur, and mnrmifi. cencc, strange and indescribable. " 2. The Kremlin is "the heart" and ''sacred place" of Moscow ; once the old fortress of the Tartars, and now the centre of the modern city. It is nearly trian.ul.-Lr m form, enclosed by a high brick wall, painted white and nearly two mdes in extent, aild is in itself a citv' It has live gates, at four cf which there are hi. and rebuilt m 1472. It is loaded with gorcreou'^ and extravagant ornaments. The icanastos, or sJ^een, which divides the sanctuary from the body of the church i.s in many parts c.wered witii plates of 'solid silver and gold richly and finely wrought. On tlu^ walls are paint- ed the images of more than 2,300 saints, some at full length, and some of a colossal size, and the whole in- terior seems illuminated with gold. 5. Froui the centre of the r")of is suspended a crovvD ol massive silver, with forty-eight chandeliers, all in a «iugle piece, and weighing nearly 3000 pounds. Close i by ia an devotees [Christiai before M ';! enough t( ngaiu. (i. Th^ first of ti three bel more tha is, peril aj 7. An( I largest a.' height is I thickness of the cl; [once sixt^ Mnglish, ; '|.r3()5,00(] H. Besi j musical ii [the larges 'f^ixteen fei I three feet 0. The I siana. O riage.^. '1 first of w! Czars, an( in which t projected 1 Kremlin u miles, and hcen comp probably Ii ^^ tliG sevi vm COM.NfON SCHOOL READER, 59 md mngiiifi. ■Of! place" of ii's, and now y trianoular lilted white, Itself a city. liiL^li watch- >r the Holy ids no male, lie Russi;^', ondcd body, ssed on to ;i ost interest- he range of aces. Thci , and every an, Tartar, , gorgeous, lonasterio. ire erected 11 the same no regular abundance vith uhicli. iption, till' founded in li gorgeous or screen, iie ehurcli, silver and i are paint- 'lue at full whole in- by i.^ an odddooking church, constantly thronged with devotees; a humble structure, said to be tlfe oldest ChrLstian church in Moscow. It was built in the desert before Moscow was thought of, and its walls are stronc^ enough to last till the gorgeous city shall become a desert inrjijn. agaui b. The tower of Ivan Veliki, or John the Great, the lirst o tne Czars, is 270 feet high, and contains thirty- three bells, the smallest weighing 7000, and the larcr/st more than 1-14,000 pounds English. From its top ttro IS, perhai)s, the hncst })anoramic view in the world. 7. Another well-known object is the areat bell the largest and the wonder of the world. Its^perpendicular iieight IS uvcuty-one feet four inches, and the extreme tluckness ot the metal, twenty-three inches. The length M>1 the clapper is fourteen leet, the greatest circumfer- I once sixty leet lour inches, its weight 400,000 nounds *r!Jprt\a'" 't^ ^^'^t has been estimated at mo^e than :.Ub5,0()0 sterling. I a Besides the great bell, there is another noi.y I musical instrument, namely, the great gun, liko the bell I the largest m the world, being a 4,320 pounder It is pixteen teet long, and the diameter of its calibre nearly ' 'firee leet. ^ 0. The treasury contains the heirlooms of the Rus- nans. On the lir^t th,or are the ancient imperial car- ^ nages^ 1 he be/ ctagr is a gallery of fiv(^ parts, in tho n-^t ot which are the portraits of all the l.-:m{)erors and ^ /.ars, .and their wives, in the exact costume of the times i:i which they lived ; in another, is a model of a palace nn>,ected by the l-lmpress Catherine, to unite the whole Ivrenilm under one roof, having a circumference of two '■Hies, and m;ike of it (,ne magnificent palace : if it had '"encomnleted according to thepbm, this palace would '^ >'d)ly have surpassed the temple of Solumon, or any the seven womlers of the world. ^ ' '«»|ii r.7' 'ft* 1:1 t 'if f i |i M '.; r Il t lll,i 60 COMMON- S( IIOOL HEADER. CIJAPTKR XXIV. f iifliioii€c or liabit!^. 1. Tho vvliole character iruiy ho said to be cornpre- heiided in the term hahits ; ho that it is not «o far iroiii being true, that "man is a b.mdlc of liabits." SuppoM you were compelled to wear an iron collar about your neck throuLdi Jife, or a chain upon your ankle; would it not be a burden everyday and hour of your existence! You rise in the luorniuir a prisoner to your chain ; you lie down at night, weary with the burden ; and you jrroau the more lf, and a kind of second nature. Who does not ' know, that llie old man, who has occupied a particular corner «>f the old fire-place, in the old house, for si.Kty years, may be rendered wretched by a change? Who has not read of the relea.^^e of the aged prisoiie, of the Hastile, who entreated that he might again return to his gloomy (huigeon, because his habits, tliere fornuMl, were jso strong, that liis miture threatened to sink under the uttemj)t to break them up ? \ 4. You will probably find no nuui of forty, who has t not habits which he laiuents ; which mar his usefulness', but which are so interwoven with his very bein*', that ■fej COMMON SCHOOL HEADER. 61 :'Ni be compre* «o fur i'roin " Suppose • about your ikle ; would r existence! clniin ; you 1 ; and you there is no lo more in- f men ; nor such as arc afl'air, will rength of ;i t, is foniKMl time; but, IS her head tion to ib f every stu- which lii^ 'lings, will le a part ot lo does not I particular e, for sixty iige ? Who one, of the ^turn to hi? rmed, were under the y, who ha^ usefulness'. )eing, that he rannot break through them, at least he has not the courage to try. 1 am expecting you will form habits. Indeed, 1 wish you to do so. lie must be a poor char- acter iiideed who lives so extempore as not to liave habits of Ills own. liut what 1 wish, is, that you form those habits which are correct, and such as will every day and hour add to your happiness and usefulness. If a man were to be told that he must use the axe, which he now selects, through life, would he not be careful in selecting one of t!ie right proportions and temper? If told that lie nmst wear the same clothi (r, through life, would he not 1)0 anxious, as to the (piamy and kind? But these ill the cases supposed, would be of no more importance than is the selection of habits in which the soul shall ;:ct. Vou might ;vs well place the body in a strait-jacket, and expect it to perform, with ease, and comfort, and pronii)tiiess, the various duties of the body, as to throw the soul into the habits of some men, and then expect it will accomplish anything great or good. T). Do not lear to undertake to form n?iy habit which is desiral)le ; for it f(fn be ibrmed, and that with more ease than you may at first suppose. Let the same thing, or the ^amc duty, return at the same time, every day\ and it will suon beeome pleasant. No matter if it be irksome at first ; but how irksome soever it may be, only let it return ])eriodically, every day, and tha't without any interruption for a time, audit will become a positive pleasure. In this way all our habits are formed. The student, wlio can with ease now sit down, and hold his mind down to his studies nine or ten hours a day, would find the labourer, or the man accustomed to active habits, sinking under it, should he attempt to do the same thinof. G. I have seen a man sit down at the table, spread with luxury, and eat his sailor's biscuit with relish, and without a desire for any other fijod. His health had compelled him thus to live, till it had become a pleasant iiabit of diet. Previous to this, however, he had been rather noted for being an epicure. «' I once attended » prisoner," says an excellent man, " of some distinc- \,r ^%% i if 1 vi .J kl^l >' 1 'I'll M 62 COMMON SCHOOL IICADEU. |i Vi tioii, in one of the prisons of the metropolis ill of;. typhus lever, wliose apartments were gl(;om\ in the ex- treme, and surroujided witli Jiorrors : yet tiiis j>riy( nc assured me afterwards, that, upon iiib relea^e. hv (jui;- ted them with a de«rree of rehictaM<-e; ni.fi.m had re- conciled him tothetwiliirht, admiiKdilirouLfii the thick- burred grate, to the lilthy s])()ts and patch(^s of hi^ plastered walls, to the iiardness of his bod, v.wd even u conlinement." CHAPTER XXV, ]. A worthy bishop, who died hnely ;;t Katisid;, had for his arms two tieldfares, with the jiiottc — " Arr not two sparrows sold for a farthinir ?'' This stranirc coat of arms had often excited attention, ami nianv persons had wished to know its orioin, as it Avas«roiier, ally reported that the bishop had cliosen it for iiimsell': and tliat it bore reference to some event in his earlv life. One day an intimate friend asked him its menii- nin-, and the bii^liop replied by relating the following L'tory : — ^ ^ 'l. Fifty or sixty years ago, a little boy resided at it village near Dillengen, on the banks of the Dnnnhe. Mi.-, parents were very poor, and, almost as soon ns the hoy could walk, he was sent into the woods to pick up yticks for fuel. AVhen he grew older, his father taught iiirri to pick the juniper berries, and carry them to a ne!ghi)oring distiller, who wanted them for makiii(r hollands. Day by day the poor boy went to his task! and on his ro.id, he passed by the open windows of the village' school, where he saw the schoolmaster, teaching a number of boys, of about the same age as himself Wv looked at these boys with feelings almost of ^iwy, 3o earnestly did he long to be among them. di. ile knew it was in vain to ask his father to send in in to iiiouey tlie will j)er be I -cliooln (lay, wh the hov.- traj), au Jiiiii tiia and thai 'Iclighte often sei wood, u Ui) douh 4. Tl of his 1 , die grea Ml the ! ^ 'le took irrived ; !k'<''ii set tlieiii if Mio ueirii I L^ained a ■'I '[CW W( ■ tlie trap, Ui(!iii as o. " I iniisier ; ' make pre '0 vou, a i '' I wo I ^aid the I ^ J he s I f>re liiin, I that reac ire a ver -dee moii as 1 caini a' If, ill of a in the e.\- !!s ]>ris( iicr M'. lie ({Mit- 'HI luid rc- 1 tlio tiiick- h(^s ot' ills ncl c-vcn t( Kji!i.>"i ( j;, tc— " Arr lis .strnnirc tiiid niniiy w ;is 2 oner- )r iiiiDsolf: 1 hi^ (';irJy its rncnii- ibJlowiiig Hided at ii Dnniihc. »on ns tlie pick up ler taught fiein to a • iiiakiMg hi.s tar^k, rts of tllf teaching- himself. of envy, r to send CO.niMOX SCHOOL READER. 63 him to school, for he knew that liis parents had no money to pay the schoolmaster: and Jie often passed the whole day thinking, wliile lie was gatherino- Ids juni- per berries, what he could {)ossibly' do to please the schoolmaster, in the hope of getting some lessons. One (lay, when he was walking sadly along, he saw two of the hoys, belonging to the :-choc)l, trying to set a bird- trap, and he asked one what it was for. The boy told iiiiii that the schoolnia.sLer was ver\ foad of tiekifares aii(l that they were setting the trap to catch some. This ('Oii netting the traj), and with some alarm he asked tlieni d' they had cauglu any birds. They answered in 'he negative; and the boy, his heart beating with joy, gained admittance into the -choolmaster's presence. In I (cw words he told how he had seen the boys, setting tiie trap, and how he had caught the birds," to bring 'lieiii as a present to the master. o. "A present, my good boy!'' cried the school- inaster ; "you do not look as if you could afford to i'lake [)rcsents. Tell me vo;ir price, and I will pay it '') you, and thank you besides." " I woidd rather give them to you, sir, if vou please " ^-■U(l the boy. • . > The schoolmaster looked at the boy as he stood be- '"!•(" him, will) i)are head and teet, an{l ragged trowsers 'lilt reached only hali-way down his naked legs. "You "•e a very singidar boy!"'said he: "but if you will not 'ikc money, you must tell me what 1 can do lor you ; Y I <'''innot accept your present wit'- :it doing some- 'liiig for it in return 1> there anything I can do for you'"' i-rt t . if- m . aiJ-4 ; !ii|f ; ' 'M ^m 1 1 4 .^^^1 '^H "J ■ t 'J^ ■ G4 COMMON SCHOOL RF.ADEK. 0. "Oh, yes!" s;iid tho boy, trcinblin^r with delijrht; "you can do for me wliat 1 shoiihl lik(! hett(>r tlian any- thing^ else." " What is tliat ?" rskedtiie schoolmaster, smiling. " Teach me to read," cried the boy, falling on his knees; "oh, dear, kind sir, teach me to read." 7. The schoolmaster complied. The boy came to him, at all his leisure hours, and learnt so rnpidly, that the schoolmaster recommended him to a nobleman who resided in the neighbourhood. This gentleman, who was as noble in his mind as in his birth, piitronised the poor boy, and sent him to school :it Ratisbon. Tho boy profited by his opportiniities, and when he rose, as he soon did, to wealth and honors, he adopted two field- fares as his arms." " What do you mean V cried the bishop's friend. "I mean," returned the bishop, with a smile, "that the poor boy was myself." llKl III CHAPTER XXVT. Wi '^ins to sec a ilBiracIc. 1. One day in the Spring, Solomon, then a youth, sat under the palm trees, in the garden of the king, his father, with his eyes fixed on the grr than aiiy- ^hoolniastrr, >y, tailing oil | read." oy ciunc to rapidly, that blenian who Llonian, who troiiiscd the sl).)ii. The lie rose, as id two field- s I'riend. •mile, " that en a youth, le king, his absorbed in ;o liini, and n- the palm 1, "Nathan, aele." " :\ ich I enter- ^'Ks it irraii'c came to . Observe, ; 1. i ujjon mauc, j le seed into \ COMMON SCHOOL READER. t)5 the hole, and covered it. Scarcely had he drawn back his hand, when the earth parted, and I saw two small loaves shoot forth; but, no sooner had J perceived them, than the leaves separated, and from between them arose a round stem, covered with bark, and the stem hcciune every moment hiirher and thicker. 4. The man of (iod thereuj)on said to me — "Be- hold!" And, while 1 observed, seven shoots issued from the stem, like the seven branches on the candle- stick of the altar, f was astonished ; but the man of (iod motioned to me, and connnanded me to be silent, and to attend. '). "Behold," said he, *'iiew creations will soon make their appearance." He thereupon brought water, in the hollow of his hand, from the stream which flowed past, and lo ! all the branches were covered with green leaves, so that a cooling shade was thrown around us, together with a delicious odor. (1. " Whence," exclaimed I, "is this perfume, and this refreshing shade?" " Seest thou not," said the man of God, " the scarlet blossoms shooting forth from among the green leaves, and hanging down in clusters?" 1 was about to answer, when a gentle breeze agitated the leaves, and strewed the blossoms around us, as the Jiu- tunm blast scatters the withered foliage. No sooner had the blossoms fallen, than the red i)omegranates ap- peared, suspended among the leaves, like the almonds on the staff" of Aaron. The man of God then left me in profound amizement. 7. Nathan ceased speaking. " What is the name of the God-like man?" asked Solomon, hastily. "Doth he yet live ?" " Where doth he dwell ?" " Son of Da- vid," replied Nathan, " I have related to thee a vision." H. When Solomon heard these words, he was troub- led in his heart, and said, " llow canst thou deceive me thus?" " I have not deceived thee, son of Jesse," rejoined Nathan. " Behold, in thy father's garden thou mayst sec all 1 have related to thee= Doth n.ot tlie siiine thing take place with every pouH.'granate, and with the other trees?" " Yes," said Solomon, " but imper- ff ♦ ■•! ■I /■ ],! • j I 66 • oMMoN SCHOOL in:.\i>r.R. ceptihly and in :i lon not. 'i'bey cannot l)e removed or shaken. They cannot be chilled or weakened, — an(i thouuh many beconu> estrauned and distant, she never , does, even though w(« uniy have wandered far from the j iKith Oi reel!! mi.', and travelled lonjjf in forbidden wavs^ \ I She nc pravcri :j. I shelter tliose \ yjtronir joys an those v burden is noun how fa: the sc(! we tun cxclain 4. II luirdeii that tlu to belui pain — i caHed t tear tri last, loi ion, an this w( ijrieve 1 world, and so it is to en cam 1. Till time m( cor.fMON sciiooi, RKAnr-R. fir 11 nnswcrod ; hccjiiise if ' nature ;iii(l (' those of u roiiLMit i)v i! ['Bl. ir liiniruaire Home, and 111 that lew, T thoii(ilits, (I j)leasuros. i eoiiiiected d well is it I soinethiiii: \vec;ui«iind le of i)U!si- Lioyaiit and even nien- is she wild Inless crca- ! couhl lisj) ;is «he who ways, and and to lier -en ihonirli fection and enioved or ned, — and she never • freni tlic Ulen wavt^ r - She never fors of other nations — or how majestic the sc(!n(;ry of other countries — for. as if hy instinct, we turn a fond and Jitijrerin'^r hudc to heme, andean ltn.t exclaim, in the heautilid words of the sonf — " He it ever so luunhle, TluM-e is no place like home." 4. Heaven, — at the thounht oi. this, the mind becomes ltiird(>iied : not that it is an unwelcoiiie theme: — not that there is any thiiiit- repulsive in it ; but. beiuo- so u.Hid to behold so numy chaniies — so nnu^h of sickness and pain — so much of sorrow jmkI misery, — and .so often called to i)art with those W(^ love, and li^el tiie burninve are surrounded by so imich trouble, and so many dilliculties ; but amid them all, how sweet it is to remember that " earth has no sorrow that lleuv- cii cannot cure.' ciiArTi:R XX vm. ^'U i*^ I, he not afi^asil.'^ 1. There is not a passacre nuA-e emphatic, and at the same time more cheering and comforting t,o the.-dllicted soul. I'- if •I m -.1 Nj : ii «iS COMMON SniOOI. HEAHER. 't s(! words of comfort liave been to nianknni, ever since; tiiev were uttered by our Sav- iour ! The chjid, wiuM. in the (hirk, hears a footstep an- proach, its little heart heats faster, hut the mother's voice lalls upon the ear— "it is J, he not afraid," and all IS peace in the infant's hosoin. Oh ! is it not heau- titul to contemplate the child's reliance on its mother' l)ut inhnitely more so to see the youn^r, leaniiiir with the fcwune reliance, on the bosom of their Saviour ' 'I And when sickness comes, with its witherin^r bliiiut, ami the mother sits beside the cradle of her idoC izcd child, wntchincr f„r the last breath, vet hopino- praymjr, (<,},! such prayers as that a.ronized niothj; pours torth, none but those who have suliered can know,) that God will hear, and spare her child. Sud- tlenly it ■ .'" "IK'" happens that von are thrown Ui h, ,o ol ,h,. crele yourself, for Ihev will not listen to y.an,l per aps wall n,,, un,lerstan,l your ,ern,.s 'I'q '!»■ I , however, thi'te appear to he others in the conipauy whose object, lik<. your own, is inu.r. ve e yon nnsht e..po..e y -self to th,. inst .-.hariie o f ei nl' -; j s houhl yon r,.fuse to converse npo,? vot.r of will' ,m?'''',""rr'i" ''""""■'•' '"" ^"'■'" I'i"' "«t. You "iiiu'th ',','"'" "''« I-'""'- 1"^ it. a.■ l"'"'''» at all. Such arc 1, ''V"",""'"!""' '"• "'"'■■•'""• '" ^'"^""^ l"'";""K<'. , V I, ,". ; f '" "'",'"" '"""■ l'"l""l<^^'''<"'«s of .urrivi?,. ineMtably snlier m iK^aring ihem, vou put vour own re|.nt,t,on at hazard. • A ,nun is km™,, by th,f e^.p",; l>anv. i '■ wishes to i)c g. U] there- possible do- ■j; wJiom yon >n to take Jijs Ills heart,' let ly easily col- ic you meet )iii own use^ lere present- ". But this sufleriuir ^ 11, to be tho concede liis he. useful to are thrown y becoming lot listen to ir terms, ji' Hiers in tlio provenient, !;e of being your own t the (jfood out. You be able to le him an 11 have not inler.stand, t e\i)ect. niav oe- iiversation Such are COMMON SCHOOL READER. 71 uiu-ua^^e. 1; ' derivmir you must 'our :)wn company Ih' keep..;' take care therefore how you frequent the company of the swear^'r or the sensualist. Avoid too the known liar, for similar reasons. ' ' ^ H. If you s|)eak in company, it is not only juodest but ; Mise to speak late; lor by this means, you will be able I U> r(m( er your conversation more acceptable, and to I weiirh, beforehand, the in.portance of what you utter- J.nd you will be less liaide to violate the irood old rule' ' think twice before you speak once,' Let your words , be as few as will express the sense which vou wish to i convey, especially when stran grt the victory <,ver us occasi«mally, in order to rai^e iiKs respect for himself All Jinrssc of this kind, how- ever, as Christians, 1 think it better to avoid. CIIAPTEli XXX. inood Coiiiimiiy. I " Be sure, Fredrick, always keep good company " jvas the final adn.oniti(m of Mr, Lofty, on >!M^)\ SriiOOL RIIADEK. tlii.s jilone |,(. (.stlniiiled it; and the dogm's of coiiiiian. w)ii, bolter iiiid l)<'.s(, were made exactly tc» correspoi,,! to .sncli a scal(!. Tims, if an esquire was ^;w>^/ company a baronet was hittn-, and a lord, b(ast as go,,,!. Fo,- as, accordiiu.- 1„ Mr. l.ofiys nw.xim, ilie great purpose, for wliicb com- |)anM)ns were (o beebosen, was to advance a young iiiaii in tbe world, by ibeir credit and interest ; tbose wereto be j)r( ferred wlio atlorded tiie best prosj)ects in tbis re- SjH'Ct. X Mr. Manley, on tbe otiier band, understoiul l,v i^ood company, tbat wbicb was improving to ibe morals and understanding; and by tiie /;r.s/, tliat wbicb, to ;, bigb degree of tbesc (pialities, added true juditencss ol manners. As .superior advantages in education, to a certani j)onit, accompany superiority of conditioji, Ik wisbed bis .^ui to prefer, as companions, tbose wIk.h •situation in life bad atforded tbem tbe o])portunity ct being well educated; but be was far from desirino- iuiii to sbun connections witb wortb and talents, wberevn be sbould find tbem. i. Mr. Lolty bad an utter aversion to low conipaiiv, i)y wbicii be meant inferiors, peoi)le of no fasbion ami lignre, sbabby fellows, wbom nobody knows. ^ Mr. ALaiily equaly disliked low comi)any, understand- ing by it. persons of mean liabits and vulgar converpii- tion, A gr(Mt part of Mr. Manlv's good company was Mr Lolty's low company : arul not a few of Mr. Loltv's very best coni}»any were Mr. Mauley's very worst. ' Kacb of tbe sons understood his fatliei'a ineaniii^', Jind tollowed bis advice. r>. Fredrick, from the time of hi?; entrance at tht; Lniversity, commenced, what is called, a Tuft-hunter, from tbe tuft in the cap, worn by young noblemen He took pains to insinuate ium^clf into tlic good graces of all tbe young men of high fasbion in the college, and became a constant con.panion in their schemes of frolia aiid dissipation, They treated liini with an insoleiii rise, t). cs of coiiijinii- tc» COllCspoiid (///, j)rovi(l('(| .so a rich ocu- , accordiiimd • wliidi coni- a youiio- iiKiii those were to cts in this re- iiidcrstood 1)\ to tllO lilOlillb t which, to a l>olit('iie.rstan(l- ar con versa- any was Mr Mr. l.ofty's / worst. 's i)>eaniijg, ■ance at thv. ruft-huntcr, f noblemen good jrracos colJege, and j nes of froha ( an insolent COMMON SCHOOL RRADFR. 73 iHmiliarity, often bordering upon contempt : but, follow- mtr another inaxini of his father's *' one must stoop to rise, ' lie took it all in good part. 0. lie totally neglected study, as unnecessary, and i'Hl(r.l inconMst(>nt with his plan, lie spent a (rreat (leal ol money, with which his father, finding that it went in good company, at first supplied him freely In (ime however, his ex|)enses auiountcd to so much, that I Mr. Lohy, who kept good comjiany too, found it difficult lo answer his demand.s. A cxHjsiderable sum that he lost at play with ojie of his noble friends, increased the (lilliculty, [f it were not paid, the disgrace, of not hav- ing discharged a debt of honor, would lo.se him all the lavor he had accpiired ; )et the money could not be raised without greatly embarrassing his father's affair.s. 7. In the mid.st o\' this perolexity, Mr. Lofty died, leaving behind him a large family, and very little proper- fv. Frederick came uj) to town, and soon dissii)ated, in iTood co!iij)any, the scanty portion tiiat came to his share Ilavnig neither industry, knowledge, nor reputation, he »vas then obliged to become an Immble dependent on the great, fiattering all their follies, and ministerinrr to their vices, treated by them with mortifying neglect, and e<|iiiilly desj)ised and detested by the rest of the world. >'. Henry, in the mean time, entered with spirit into the )usmess of his new profession, and employed his leisure in cultivating an acquaintance with a few select Inemls. 'I'heso were p..rtly young men in a situation similar to his own, partly persons already settled in life iHit all distinguished by propriety of conduct, and im- proved understandings. From all of them he learned soinethmg valuable ; but he was more particularly in- debted to two of them, who were in a station of life in- ferior to that of the rest. i>. One was a watchmaker, an excellent mechanic and tolerable mathematician, and well . cquainted with the construction and use of all the instruments employed in ''xpcrnncntal philosophy,. The oth.er w.ns •? youn^^- dnnr- gii^t, who had a good knowledge of chemistry and fre- qiiontly employed himself in chemical operations antl t el ^M -mU 74 COMMON SCIiOOl, RLAIiEPw Ill in jW fi I flit V .^M'en^,e,lL.. Both of tl.om were m^n o^ mtv (loceiu manners, and took a pleasure in connnnnicatinc the ' kiiowledge to sncli ■,, slumed a ta^tc lor sin.il.r Sv-die^ lienr>MTequentJy visited the.n, and derived imicJ, use- tul iniornnui,,,! Ire,,, their instruction^-, Ibr wliieh he ever expressed great thankr.iluess ^flTectnally preserved Inn, i\oiu tl,e error "of V( ,.tii •„.> •e passed Ins thne xvith c,-ed,t and satislactio,,: i'u- iu d he same nnslertin.e v,hh Frederick, just as he u.; Hddr to ccne out u,to tlie ^vorU\, (,f j,,,ii,fr }.is jatlier 'H-n whou, tl,e support of the ia,udv ciuciird'pe : i>"t nahe character he had estahJisheci, -.uul t],e u^^ i" *'dge he had =^,uired, he ,o,n.i a,. eheot,ud r!.:u;;r n. Une oi h.-s yo,n,^r fViends p,T.])osed to liim a |>artnersh,p,ua,Hanuihctu,e he lid ust set u a connderahJe expe,>se, requi,-],.. il,. hi. share on v th :^Z f ""''^^ "''^^ '"''^^'''y- Henrv accep.ed the offe , andinadesucligood use of the ski!] 'in i^echa- Zv^^u : """'■^' '-^ '"^ ^^^•'^'^''•^^^'' ^'^^'^ ^- -^->^'- n.au) nnproven,entsintotJ,e inanuiVcic ry, and renCere.i -t a very profitable concern, lie iive.I ^prosper u an i .-^pendent, and ,-etained in n,anlu. . 'all ^the Irie ' ♦ Uip> (^1 Ins yonti!. . CHAPTER XXXi Oii: sacred Truth! tiiy trimnp], ceased a while And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile ' U i,cn leagued Oppression poured to northern wars Her ulnsk-eredpajndours a.nd her fierce hus';ar- Waved her dread standard to the l,reeze of morn ;';^"led her h ud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn I lijnuitnous horror brooded o'er her van IVesaging wrr:th to Poland— and to man ' ^er\• (locwii f';itii]g their iii;.'!' .'■tv.dit!--, 1 JlillcJl usc- r wliicli Jif (1 o.v;;nij)i(s V( iitii, ill,,! 11- iiclii.il Ji.s lie \v;!h • }.is Uiiher. , ibliow-men ! our country yet remain.s ! By that dread name, we v.ave the sword en hin-li : And swear for her to live !— with licr to die ! " il". s u(i, and on the r uiipurt-heights arrayed llis tr;isty warriors, few, but undismayed : {"'irm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form. Still as the breeze, but dreadful as tlio storin ; Low murmuring sounds along their banners fiv. Revenge, or dfnt.h,— the watch-word and rojfly : TluMi p-;ded the notcA, -unnipotent to charm, And tile l;)ud t'.)C;:iu tolled their last alarm ! '.-. Til vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! l''roni rank to rank your volleyed thunder Hev/ : Oh ! bloodies t{)icture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell, unwept, v/lthout u crime : Found not a generous friend, a pitying fee, Strength in her arms, ni)r mercy in her woe ! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the ^•huttered spear. Closed her brigiit eye, imd curbed her high career ! {lope, for a season, bade the world farewell. And Freedom shrieked— is Kosciusko fell. •I. The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there. 'J'umultuous murder shook the midnight air On Prague's proud arch tlu; Hres of ruin glow, " Ills bhx)d-dye(r waters murmuring fir below ; The storm prevails,— the rampart yields away, Jiursts the wild cry of horror and tlismay ! ii> /I ' e 1 ^1 T(i .11* II m ,' 4 COMMON SCHOOL IlEADEU. r>. Hark ! as the mouldering piles with thunder Ihil A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call ! Earth shook— red meteors flashed along the sky And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry ! Oil! righteous He.ven ! ere Freedom found a grave Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ' Where was thine arn,, O Vengeance ! where thy rod 1 hat smote the foes of Sion and of God ; That crushed proud Amnion, when his iron car Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from afar ? Where w;k. the storm that slumhered till the host Of blood-stained Pharoah left their tremhling coa.c 1 hen bade th,' deep in wild commotion flow, And heaved an ocean on their march below ? <>. Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ' Friends of the world ; restore, your swords to man, 1* Jglit m his sacred cause, and lead the van ! Vet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, And make her arm puissant as your own ' Oh ! once again to freedom's cause return The patriot Tell-the Bruce of Cannockburn ! r. Yes ! thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see 1 hat man iiath yet a soul—and dare be free ' A little while, along thy saddening plains, The starless night of Desolation reigns : Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heami f Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled Her name, her naUire, withered from the world ' % indor Ihil, call ! : the sky, : cry ! niu(] a grave, el here thy rod. i; roil car 1 afar ? the host bliiig coi\si . iow, ()\V ( s to man, in! Ijurn ! 1 see 36! en, !aven I 3d, orld ! COMMON SCHOOL READER. 77 CHAPTER XXXII. IVaterloo. I. There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily, and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eye^ which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; But hush I hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! '2. Did ye not hear it ? No : 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; On with the dance I let joy be unconhned ; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet. To chase the glowing hours with flyino- feet— But hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm ! — arm ! it is, — it is the cannon's opening roar ! •}. Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear That sound the hrst amidst the festival, And caught its tone with death's prophetic car ; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that i)eal too well Which stretched his father on a blood v bier And roused the vengeance blood alone would quell He rushed into the field, and, foremost licx] 1 ^: ■ ■:f-;ii: t bf «l ♦ ' F 2 't3' tell '" COMMON SCHOOL READEn. 4. Ah ! then and there was hurryiiiir t.) imd fro, And (ratherin:^ tears, and treinblino-s ot distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour airo Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sigh. Which ne'er might be repeated ; wlio could gulss If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,* Since upon nights so sweet, such uwiiil mom ' >ul(i rise ? o. And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, The mustering squadron, and tlic clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips—" The foe ! Thci come, they come !" a. Ami wild and high the - Cameron's gatherina' ^c.^^- ! The; wir-notc of Lociiiel, which Albyn's hills Hivo hoard, and heard, too, i.ve her Saxon fl)es;- llow m the noon of night that pibroch thrills, ^'uvage and shrill ! But. with the breath which'lilk 'l^heir inountiin-pipo, so fill the mountaineers W ith the fierce native daring Mhich instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's f-une ring,; i„ each clJnsm^in'ii ears 1 imd fro, )l distress, ur ;i(r() el in ess : us press liokilicr sicrlis could guess d eyes, morn )ul(i : the steed terinof car, speeci J ar; Ur ; urn • star ; r durn b> foe! Thci gathering' I's hills xon foes ;— 1 thrills, nhich lil}^ lineers stilsj irs, clansm^n'i! ♦COMMON SCHOOL nKADER. 70 S T. And Ardennes waves ahove thein jier green leaven. Dewy, with nature's tear-(lro])s, as they pass, (irieviiig, if uught iiinnimate e'er irrieves, Over the unreturning brave, — ;das ! Kre evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow, In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall liiouldrr c»)ld and low. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay. The midnight brought the signid sound ui' strifu. The morn the marshalling in ;u-iiis, the day Rattle's magnificently stern array ! Ths thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent , The earth is covered thick with other ciav, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent. Rider and horse,— friend, foe,— in one red burial blent ! CHAPTER XXXliJ, -. Lire fiBi Watocrits. L To form a just conception of life on the banks of Kolyma, says M. Von Wrangle, one must have spent ?| the wli.,le population dep. uds upon it. The locality ol JNislmey-Kolymsk, however, is unfavourable, and the inhahitants are ohh^red to migrate, at this' season, to more «iiita!.|e parts of the river. As s.xm. as the winter ceasf. they accordmmost tryinrk and yet more bv tk severe last to which they have for some' time beeirsub- jected,are too feeble to allow their masters to avail them- selves of the fiast, ( a slicrht crust of ice upon the siir- tacc ol the snow, ) to catch a few elk . and wild rein- deer. 5. Famine then appears in its most horrible fonn. Crowds ot Tunirusians and Yiikaheers come tlockinff Hito the liussiau villaires, in search of some subsistence! 1 ale and ghost-like they stagger about, and greedily devour fJoiK^s, .short, t ed into uiithrift thetnsel verv comer: but tlu- expense of conveying it, Ihmi so eiioVinous a distance enhances the jirice to such a de^rree that lew are able t-^ avail themselves of the facility thus afforded thorn. Al- thoiiirh the additi or less, these iiunidations occur every vear and, when the waters subside, the main fishery with" nets beirnis. Fish form the chief food of i„an and dog, aiic ior the yearly consumption of the hundred fimilies'tlmt comi)osethe little comnmnity of Nishney-Koi vmsk, ;ii least three millions of herrinnr>^ are re(iuired' Mm other kinds of fish are cPULdit at" this time, anion^r whicli IS the Xr/ma, a larije description oj' salmon-trout, biii the first fish are irenerally thin, and are mostly converted nito ifukhala for the doas ; that is to sav^ cut open cJeane hunters to bring home several thousands of gees'e in one day, whereas now they are content if they dm catch ai many during the whole season. 12. While the men are fishing and hunting, the women make the best use of the interval of line weather, to collect the scanty harvest which the vegetable kingdom yields them, in the shape of a few berries and aromatis iT'iiety, I women \ II) the oj •laiice, a !:J. T i(i:r coJ!! f •: ifiditioi |tii)c u'liilf %\\'^ unvcu ' iln' .'^ubt \m\\i 'A mu the ni uitlioiit t ^I'lieir pro Brifon Brook by < Arburij B. Isl A. Far miles otf, hood. B. J ai to him ? A. O, first place that, you 1 '» T li. 1 UIl A. He COMMON S( IIOOI, riF.ADEn, f^^ imd, if the in- their horses tc St. an inundaticji IS so suddenlv with a few of lat rool's ot'our upwards of a lidity between ; a little arclii- lahitants were g one another II r every year, hery with nets and dog, imc I la in dies tlmt -Koiynisk, ;ii lired. Main among wliicii Jon-trout, l)ii; tly converted y, cut open, s distintjuish- in of a better ^'paration. is when the leir feathers, its are then jers of swaiis sticks. The ished greatly thing for tlit geese in oiiti 3 an catch aj f, the women weather, to ble kingdom lud aroni'itia nrrbf. Tiie guthering in of the berries is a ,se:i'^cn ci :T:iiety, liko the vintage in southern climes. The vonnr w..inen w:mder abont in large parties, spending the niirJu'^ 111 the open air, and amusing themselves witii soii'r'.ind •lance, and other inn^K-cnt diversions.* '" !:). The berries, liirmselves, ;:re preserved bv pour- uir n.lrl water ov,>r thet:., .nd freezing them, ni which ^;.nid!tion li:-v lor!.. om> ri" tho lavcnrite dainties dunn- ]i ttfc Whiter. iJesides the berries, thev collect at this timJ |l^^;//r^■;,7^.v;.•.^ a mc:dy ro->t, f.und in large (uiantitie. ui III." Hioterriinnan ^trre-honses of the field-mice Th- }ouu!r ^nrls api,-; •• lo have a peculiar tact in discover- inirthemag./.inesMf these bttle notable animals, whme Hithoiitthe least remorse, thev plunder of the fruits c!' jMieif pr(»vident !!i«iii':rrv. CHAPTER XXXIV. A n n A M A. Scr.xr.— /I J^oa.'i in the Counfry. Akiu-hv — nrLFouf>, ipalkincT. Bflford. PiiAv '.vho is the present possessor of the Brook by est rite ? ^ Arbun/. A mnn of tlie name <>f Goodwin. B. Is he a good ne;d it. Biit he is of a close unsociabh; temper, and, 1 believe, very niggardly. Ji. How has he shown it ? A. His style of living is not e(jual to his fortune ; and I have heard of several instances of his attention to petty economy. Ji. Perhaps he spen«is his money in charity. A. IVot he, J daresay. It was but last week that a poor fellow, who had lost his all by afire, went to liim wilii a sul)scrii)ti(.n-paper, in which were the names of ;il! the gentlemen in the neighbourhood ; and all the answer lie got, was, that he would consider of it. JS. And did he consider .' -I. 1 don't know, but I suppose it was oidy an exciisv Then his j)redecessor had a park well stocked with deer, and used to make liberal presents of venison to all his neighbours. IJut this frugal gentleman has sold them nil off, and got a fK)ck of sheep instead. /i. I don't see nnich harm in that, now mutton is .v*- dear. .1. To be sure he has a right to do as he pleases with his i)ark, but that is not the way to be beloved, you know. As to n\yself; I have reason to think ho bears ine partic- ular ill-wil* Ji. 'I'hen he is much in the wrong, for \ be!ie\t yon are as free from ill-M ill to others as any man living. But how has lie shown it: pray ? A. In twenty instaiu-,es. He had a horse upon .sale the other day to which I took a liking, and bid money for it. As soon as he found I was about it, he sent it off to a fair on the other side of the county. My wife, yoti know, is passioiuitely fond of cultivating Hovvcrs. Rid- ing lately by his grounds, she observed something new, mid took a great longing for a root or cutting of it. Mv gardener mentioned her wish to his, (contrary, I own, to my inclination,) and he told his master : but instead of ohligin; the pla cy belli ;ui(l vva.' ti|)iin hi liapj)en. tiiy civil Hie, (ne In short and I w n. j\ the coiu is your |i ;i.s if he A. A Richard (I need yc made up A. I .- last, it di n. It what Mr, took tiuK very nexi very pan iny neigh t<'r, he t( a i^ood cl Kindly ta <'ossity of ho gave r for fdty p A. Fil R. Ye gfiin; am learn of 1 /i. A 1] . -..^rpip IS he clioosc e iiiight on- i of" ;i close (IJy. rtiiiic ; and ion to pettv ■ cek that a tt'iit to liiiii i.inios ol'alj tlie unswcr an exciisv. I with (Irer, 1 to all lib hi tliciu all iitton is ftf' k'asos with you knoM. me partic- elievt yoii ing. But upon .sale money for nt it off to wile, yon :^r.'^. Rid- liing new, L)f it. My , I own, to instead of COMMON SCHOOL HEADER. 85 (•hligin country than a bad neighbour, and I am concerned it iH your lot to have one. J3ut there is a nun, who seems ius li ho wanted to sj)eak with you, ..,,.., [-^ countrymnn nppruaches. .1. Ah ! It IS the poor fellow that was burnt out. Well Kichar.l, how go you on- what has the subscription pro^ (iiiced you '[ Uuliard Thank your honour, my losses are nearly all made up. ■' A. [ ani very glad of that; but when I saw the paper fast, It did not reach half-way. U It did not, Sir ; but you may remember asking me ^liat Mr. Goodwin had done for me, and I told you he took tune to consider of it. Well, Sir-I found that the very next day he had been at our town, and had made very particular nupiiry about me and my losses air.ona iny neighbours. When I called upon him, a few days al" t<^r, he told me he was very glad to find that I bore 'such a good character, and that the gentlemen round had so Jvuidly taken up my case ; and he \vould prevent the ne- «. A noble gifi, mdeed ! I never could have thought .14 ' ! •/ / f '■ '!i".l P !■' I .,:j.I 'M if 1 1 ' ■ >f 'ml SG COMMON aciiooL rf:ader. it. Well, Riciiard, I rejoice nt your (rood fortune, f am .sure ymi are niucii obliged to Mr. (uoduin. R. fndeed I am, Sir, arl to all my jrood frieiul;;. — God bless you ! Sir, [(■ -r/'r.N' on. li- Nicrcrarduess, at lea.'^t, is not this man's loible, »t-) A. No. — I was mistaken in tliat point. I wrtjuaed him, and I am sorry for it. IJut what a pity it is thiil men of real jrenerosity shoidd not be amiable in liieir manners, and as ready tt» oblioe in trifles as in matters oi consequence. B. True — 'tis a pity when that is really the case. A. How much less an exerlion it would have been, to have shown some civility about a horse or a (iov.er- root ! B. A-propos of dowers, there is your gardner carry-r ing a large one in a pot. Entir Gardner. A. Now, James, what have you got there? • Gard. A llower, Sir, for Madam, from Mr. Gmidwin's A. How did you come by it? G. His gardener, Sir, sent me word to come for it, We should have had it before, but Mr. Goodwin though; it would not move safely. A 1 hope he has got more of them. G. He has only a seedling or two. Sir, but hearing that Madam took a liking to it, he was resolved to peml it hor. and a <-hoice thing it is ! 1 have a note for Mad- am, in my pocket. .4. Well, go on. . [Exit ffardiur. II. Methinks tliis does not look like deficiency in ci- vility. .1. No — it is a very polite action — T ran't deny it, fln luost fiberal disix)- sitions, can hardly in-, themselves from its inllnence. It poisons all the kindi.ess of society ;— and vouder comes an instnnco of its elFects. B. Who is he I A. A poor schoolmaster with a larirc familv in the next market-town, who has lost all his scholars by his activity on our side in the last election. I li(>artily\visli It was in my power to dosomethinir for hijn : for he is n very honest man, fhoMirli rather too warm. JNow, Mr. Penman, how go things with you .' P. I thank you. Sir, they have g(„u^ p.lorlv'cnotnrh but I ho|)e they are in the way to mend. ' ^ /I. i am glad to hear it — but how? P. W I believe A. A) liniuls of P. hi to give n: c it'll t to A. Mr P. 1 V of his o\\ ask in (T hi should be and as 1 would try tioned tlu the trusle 1 cou'd h me to dii Indeed, I than Mr ( A. Yo Mr. Pen' vou ? P. Qu affairs in thfit (lilfer a distance aiontiop.ii of beiii'T teein for [ casion to 1 confess, been sue! .1. We P. Yoi A. (A) B. Wl Atlar uU ] r i 3\: It -4' COMMON SCUOOL HEADER. $Q P. Why, Sir, the free-school of Stoke is vacant, and I believe 1 am likely to get it. .1. Aye !— J wonder at that. 1 thought it was mth« hands of tlie otiier jjurty. /*. his, Sir; but Mr. Goodwin has been so kind ai to give me a reconnnendation, and his interest is sufli- cient to carry it. A. Mr. Goodwin ! you surprise mc. J\ ] w:!.s nuich ."surprised too, Sir. He sent for mc <.f Ins own accord, {f.n- J .sliould never have thought of a^kmg him for a favor,) and told me he was sorry a man should be injured in ids profession on account of party, aiid^asl could not live comfortably where I was, he uoiild try to settle nre in a better place. So he meu- noned the vacancy of Stoke, and oH'ered me letters to the trustees. 1 was never so atiected in my life, Sir 1 cou'd hardly speak to return him thanks, lie kepi i'.ie to dinner, and treated me with the greatest respect. Indeed, [ believe there is not a kinder man breathing thiui Mr Goodwin. .1. Vou have the best reason in the world to say so Mr. Penman. What ! did he converse familiarly with you ? P. Quite so, Sir. We talked a great deal about partj- alliursm this neighbourhood, and lie lamented much tlmt dillerences of this kind should keep worthy men at a distance from each other. 1 took the liberty, Sir, of montioidng your name, lie said he had not the'lionour ot bemg accpiainted with you, but he iiad a sincere es- teem for your character, and should be glad of any oc- casion to cultivate a friendship with you.' For my part, I confess, to my shame, I did not think there could havJ biien such a man on that side. -l. Well — gooil morning I P. Your most o!)edient,. Sir. yj^. ^,„f ^ A (After wm^: r.ilcno) V :no, my friend, let us settled his estate on his younger son John Francis, on his father's death, finding that the threats, which had been occasionally hehl out to induce him to reforui liis wild career, were fully executed, was over- come witli grief and dismay. He was the elder born, the n;ifiir;il inheritor of the estate -, and he, like EsJiii, had sold his j»irth-right for dishonor. 15. 'I'his reiledion, and the thought tlint his father hnd died in too just anger towards him, so wrought upon his mind, i:i which there lay hidden strong, though hitherto perverted feelings, that he became nuilancholy. Riot could no lunger soothe the pangs of conscience, and when, like the prodigal, all was gone, instead of givinrac- ticc is the putli ; and that must be followed with an un- wearied step. Francis, liavinir once set his loot in the rii,dit way, did not turn back ; and so steadily did he ad- vance in his progress, tliat wh;it his father could never do with him, wliilst the spendthril't entertained the expecta- tion of being his heir, he did for hitns(>If when he w.ih but little better than au outcast from his early home. 5. His life became completely chaiioed. Theyouno;- cr brother. Sir John, wishing to prove him before he gave him better countenance, left him to himself until he felt convinced that his br(;ther's penitence was as last- m(T as it was sincere; he then invited hiiu to be pres- ent at a feast that he proposed to make for his friends in the halls of Kihvorthy. The bancpiet wiis set f(!rth with all the liberal hospitality of the times; and tin; guests, ■i.ssonible;!, w{>,rc mimerims and honorable. Sir .Ivhn t )()k his brother by the hand, seated him at the table, and after many dishes had been served, ordered i^ne that was covered, to be set Ixifore Francis, aud then, with a clieerfal countenance, he bade him raise the cover. 0. Francis did so, and all were surpri.-^ed on seeing that the dish contained nothing but written oarchments; whereupon Sir John Glanville, wishing his fri.-nds to know the respect in which he now held his re; tntant brother, and at the same time, with the true generosity which seeks to lighten the o!)]igation which it centers, told Francis, aud those who were assend)leil, that what he now did was only the act that he felt assured would have been performed by his f ither, could he have lived to witness tiu^ happy chaug(^ which they all knew had taken jdace in Francis; therefore, as iii honor bound, hej"reely restored to him the whole estate. 7. The scone that followed may be readily imagined ; the 'Most that was found," fell on^his brother's neck and wept aloud ; ami if there was ono heart in that assem- bly tint rejoicfwl ,n(ire thati the rest, it was the heart of Ihe generous, the noble, the just brother, who novk most I -^n f i-M 02 COMMON SCHOOL READER. truly felt tlie force of these words of the Lord of life '* It is more blcsrfed to give tlimi to receive." '., ,1 CHAPTKR XXXVI. The St(>riBBiiii; of ^;iiidad Kodri^'^o. i. Whiitever the levity of the previous moment, the scene before \u< u')\v repressed it cfrectiiallv. The deep tonod hell of the cathedral tolled seven, * and scarcely were its notes dyinir away in the distance, when the march of the colunms was heard, stealing along the ground. A low, murmuring wliisj)er ran along tlie ad- ranccd files of the forlorn hope; stocks were loosed, packs and knapsacks thrown to the ground ; each man prcissed his c;ip more firmly (h)wn upon his brow, and, with lip compressed and steadfast eye, waited fo'r tli« word to move. 2. It came at last: the word "march!" passed in whispers from rank to rank, and the dark mass moved im. What a moment was that, as we advanced to tliu foot of the breach ! The consciousness that, atthesa-ie ia.stant, from dilferent points of that vast plain, similar panics were moving on; the feeling that, at a word, the Hanse of the artillery, and the (lash of steel would spring from that dense cloud, and death and carnage in every shai)e our imagination can conceive, be dealt on all aides. The hurried, fitful thought of home ; the years long past, compressed into one minute's space; the last adieu to all we have loved, mingling with the muttered praver to heaven, while, high above all, the deep per- vading sense that earth has no temptation strong enough to turn us from that path whose ending must be a sep- nlchre. ;i. Each heart was too full for words. Wc followed iK)iselessly along the turf, the dark figure of <^ur leader guiding us through the gloom. On arnving at the ditch, i^ie party with thu ladders moved to the front. Already Lord of life COMMON SCHOOL RBABfER. m ^ome hay packs were thrown in, and tlic forlorn hope sprang forward. 4. All was still and silent as the grave. " Quietly, my men — quietly!" said M'Kinnon ; " don't press."— Srarccly had he spoken, when a musket, whose charge, (Oiitrary to orders, had not heen drawn, went off; The uhiz/ing bullet could not have struck the wall, when siiddeidy a bright flame broke froni the ramparts, and ^!i()t ui)wards towards the sky. For an instant the whole MTiie before us was bright as noon-day. On one side, (h(! (lark ranks and glistening bayonets oi' the eneinv; on the other, the red uniform of the British coluiims: comix-ossed like some solid wall, as tliev stretched alonrr the plain. ' ~ 5. A deafening roll of musketry from the extreme riirht, announced that the third division was already in action i while the loud cry of our leader, as he sprang into the friMich, summoned us to the charge. The leading sec- tions, not waiting for the ladders, jumped down, others Iprcssed rapidly behind theuj, wlicn a loud runiblinnr thunder crept along the earth, a hissinL^ crackliuLMioise tollowcd, and from the dark ditch; a' forked nnd livit^i lightning burst like the flame from a volcano, aiid ti "line exj)loded. (). Hundreds of shells and grenades, scattered along the ground, were ignited at the same moment; the air T^irklcd with the whizzing fuses; the nmsketrv j)lied jiicessantly from the walls, ;md every man of the lending • company of the stormers was blown to pieces. While |this (Iroadtul catastrophe was enacting belore our eyes, Ithe dijierent assaults were made on all sides ; the whole fortress seemed girt around with tire. From every part arose the yells of trium{)h and the shouts of the assail- fjiiits. As for us, we stood upon the verge of the ditch I'rejuhless, hesitating and horror-struck. A sudden 'iykncss succeeded the bright glare;, but from the midst ''I the gloom the agonizing cries of the wounded and ditch, they uiatle b ward the hrcacli; the siipportiiijf divisiion of liie storiii| OYH (rave one iiisj)irinunded mto the air likcl tlnngs of no weight ; the ringing clangor of the iroj howitzers, the crackling of the fuses, the Ida/ing .spljiii, cTs, tlui shouts of defiance, the more than savage velli of thosse in whose ranks alone the dead and the dviiif were numhered, made up a mass of sights and soiiiuis JiJmost maddening with their excitement. On westrui:-! gled; the nmtilated hodies of the leading fdes .iliiidM tilling up the way. 1). By this tinu' the third division had joined us, a tlie crush of our thickening ranks was dreadful; evwi moment some \.ell known leader fell d<'ud or mortalli wounded, and his place was supplied by some gallai.. fellow, who, springing from the leading files, ^v(nilj| scarcely have uttered Ins cheer of encouragement, ereliei himseli' was laid low. iMany a voice, with whose iiott- J was familiar, would break upon my ear, in tones heroic daring, and the next moment burst ft^rth iiial death-cry. For above an hour the frightful cariiai:t)| continued, fresh troops continually advancing, but scarce. ly a foot of groniid was made ; the earth belched forili it.s volcanic tires; and that terrible barrier did no ]iiaii| pass. In turn the bravest and boldest would leap into the whizzing Hame, and tlie taunting cheers of the en- emy triumphed in derision at tlie ellbrt. 10. '^Stormera, to the Iront ! only the bayonet ! triifil to nothing but the bayonet !" cried u voice whose "!• most cheerful accents, now contrasted btranjjelv wiili Itiio .if'alli no !,irn hope of all the ollict inon pressed rv crashed u the British, hounded like the ramparts ! vision, who, ! upon the Han 11. Theg and bravely I the combat. li»r mercy ; it de?'pair. At Imidcst thund concpiered wt mairaziii' - ha streaked with the dying. 12. 'Hie ai Killed, paralv tion before th( arms; the ji ">vou tided com burst of \cn£ei on the foe : ti the bayonets Ilodriiro wag \ 1 The chip's Came forth Far from tl With melai COMMON' Hcnooi, REAnnR, m r inortalii hiif .i(>iitli notes arouml, and Gnrvvood, who Ivd tlio for- j],irn li >j)C of tht itty-secoiHl, bounded ii to tlie chasm ; lal! the ollicers .s|»r;»iiir hiiijultanooiisly dter iiirn ; thr liniMi pnvsscd mat y ii ; u roll of witherii / nuiskct- ry crashed ir-uu thciu ; a turious .sh rtplitMl to it. The British, spriiitrinir over the dead and the dyintr, bounded like hlood lioiinds on tlu ir prey. Moanwhik^ the ramparts trembled benea he iranij) of the light di- vision, who, liavincT forced the lessor brcacli, came down upon the Hank of the French. II. The garrison, however, tliickened their numbers. hnd bravely held their grt)ini(l. Man to man, was now |thecond)at. iVo cry for (piarter. No 'plicatinj^r lo<>k I'lT mercy ; it was the death struggle oi vengeafice and idospair. At tliis instant, an exj)losion, louder than tb

en ignited by a shell ; tiie blat '-: iioke, j streaked with a luni^ llanie, hung above the dead and tho flying. V2. The artillery an the murilerous musketry were ftilled, paralyzed, as it were, by the ruin an«l devasta- tion l)efore them : both sides stood leaning upon their arms; {he |>ause was but momentary; the cries of •vounded conu'ades called uj)on their he -ts. A fierce burst of vengeance rent the air; the Hrii h closed up- ,onthefi»e: for one instant they were met: the next, Uhe bayonets gleamed upon tiio ramparts, and Ciuda(J Ilodriiro was won CHAPTER XXXVri. The bailor's Funeral. The ship's bell tolled, and slowly o'er the deck Came forth the summoned crew. — Bold, hardy meu. Far from their native skies, stood silent there, With melancholy browg. — From a low «loud n- «i '^Mtil - #ii; ^2 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (Ml -3) 1.0 ^f^ I.I 1.25 ^ as, M M 1.8 JA III! 1.6 ^ "c^l c^l 'f .. ^e: %^^ 0^ Phoiographic Sdences Corporation #> H"^ v 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 87i2-4S03 lV ^ \ :\ o^ TV%/ i WJ>.< 4^ i^s Ux % 96 COMMON SCII©OL READER, <•> That o'er the hi)rizoii hovered, came the threat Of distant, muttered thunder. Broken waves Heaved up their sharp white helmets o'er the expanse Of ocean, which in hrooding stillnct^s Jay ' Like some vindictive king, who meditates On hwirded wrongs, or wakes the wrathful war. The ship's bell tolled !— And Jo, a youthful form Which oft Had bcldly dared the slippery shrouds At midnight's watch, was as a burden laid Down at his comrade's feet.— Mournful they gazed Upon his hollow ciieek, and some there were Who, in that bitter hour, remembered well The parting blessing of his hoary sire, And the fond tears that o'er his mother's cheek Went coursing down, when his gay, happy voice Left its farewell. ' '^' But one who nearest stood To that pale, shrouded corse, remembered more:-- Of a white cottage with its shaven lawn And blossomed hedge, and of a fair-haired girl Who at her lattice, veiled with woodbine, watched His last, far step, and then turned back to weep. And close, that comrade, in his faithful breast Hid a bright chestnut lock, which the dead youth Had severed with a cold and trembling hand In life's extremity, and bade him bear, With broken words of love's last eloquence To his blest Mary.— Now that chosen friend Bowed low his sun-burnt face, and like a child Sobbed in deep sorrow, *' But there came a tone, Cleaj ai the breaking morn o'er ttormr ieaft— COMMON SCHOOL READER. 97 "/ am the Resurrection !" — Every heart Suppressed its grief, and every eye was raised. There stood the chaplain, his uncovered brow, Unmariied by earthly passion, while his voice, Rich as the balm from plants of paradise, Poured the Eternal's message o'er the souls Of dying men. It was a li6ly hour ! There lay the wreck of manly beauty, here Bent mourning friendship, while supporting faith Cast her strong anchor, where ^lo wrathful surge Might overwhelm, nor mortal foe invade. 5. There was a plunge !-— The riven sea complained : Death^ from her briny bosom, took his own. The troubled fountains of the deep lift up Their subterranean portals, and he went Down to the floor of ocean, 'mid the beds Of brave and beautiful ones. Yet to my smil, 'Mid all the funeral pomp, with which this e.a th Indulgeth her dead sons, was nouwht so sad Sublime or sorrowful, as the mute sea, Opening her mouth to whelm that sailor youtli. H B. If CHAPTER XXXVIII. iVIarco Bozzarii^. He fell in an attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site ol the ancient PlutiKa, AugMst 20, 1823, and expired in the moment «t victory. His last words were—" To die for liberty is a pleasure ■»iia not a pain." j* ^ i : i. At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in supliance bent, H * —1 ~-\ ■ k: • ys COMMON SCHOOL READEK. Should tremble ;it his power; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams, his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monr.rch's sio-uet rino- — Then pressed that monarch's throne,— a king As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. 1. An hour passed on— the Turk awoke ; That bright dream was hits last ; He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, *' To arms ! they come : the Greek ! the Greek Hg woke— to die 'midst flame and smoke. And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke. And death-shot falling thick and fast As lightenings from the mountain cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band ; — " Strike — till the last armed foe expires, Strike — for your altars and your fires, Strike — for the green graves of your sires, God — and your native land !" They fought, like brave men, long and weii,, They piled that ground with Moslem slain. They conquered- but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. ffi.s few surviving conn-ads saw His smile, when rung their proud hurrah. And the red held 'was won; Then saw in death his eyelids close Camly, as to a night's repose, , Like flowers at set of sun. COMMON- SCHOOL READER. 4. Cornn lo the bridal chamber, Death ! Come to the mother, when she feels For the first time, her first-born's breath ;— Come when the blessed seals Which close the pestilence, are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke ;— ' Come in Consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake's shock, the ocean's Jtorrn ;^ Come when the heart beats high and warm'. With banquet-song, and dance, and wine'- And thou art terrible : the tear. The groan, the knqli, the pall, the bier, And all we know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine. 5. But to the hero, when his sword Has won the Oa le for the free. Thy voice sounds like a propaet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Bozzaris ! with the storied brave, Greece nurtured in her glory's time. Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, Even in her own proud clime. We tell thy doom without a sigh ; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame'n-- One of the few, the inunortal names, That were not bora to die. 99 mW m 100 COMMON SCHOOL READER. CHAPTER XXXIX. The lioiie§t Hon, 1. A grocer of the city of Smyrna liad a son, who, with the help of the little learning the country could afford, rose to the post of Nuib, or deputy of the Cac'i ; and as such visited the markets, and inspected the weights and measures of all retail dealers. One day, as this officer was going his rounds, the neighbors, who knew enough of his father's character to suspect tliat he might stand in need of the caution, advised him to remove his weights ; but the old cheat, trusting to his relationship to the inspector, laughed ;it their advice. i). The Naib, on coming to his shop, coolly said to him, *' Good man, fetch out your weights, that we may examine them." Instead of obeying, the grocer en- deavored to evade the order with a laugh ; but was soon convinced that his son was serious, by his order- ing the officers to search his shop. — The instruments of his fraud were soon discovered ; and after an impartial examination, openly condemned and broken to pieces. He was also sentenced to a fine of fifty piastres, and to receive a bastinado of as many blows on the soles of his feet. 3. After this had been effected on the spot, the Naib, leaping from his horse, threw himself at the feet o*' his father, and watering them with his tears, thus addi .^.sed him : " Father, I have discharged my duty to my God, my sovereign, "and my country, as well as to the station I hold ; permit me now, by respect and submission, to acquit the debt I owe a parent. Justice is blind ; it is the power of God on earth ; it has no regard to the ties of kindred. God and our neighbors' rights are above the ties of nature : you had offended against the laws of justice; you deserved this punishment, but I am sorry it was your fate to receive it from me. My con- science would not suffer me to act otherwise. Behave better for the future ; and instead of censuring me, pity my being reduced to so cruel a necessity." COMMON SCHOOL READER. 101 4. So extraordinary an act of justice gained him the acclamation and praise of the whole city; and a report of It being made to the Sublime Porte, the Sultan ad- vanced the Naib to the post of Cadi, and he soon after rose to the dignity of Mufti. CHAPTER XL. A totiehiiig^ Incident. 1. An inhabitant of the canton of Schweitz came one day to his neighbor, Gaspard, who was at work in the meadow, and said to him, ** My friend, you know that we are at variance about this piece of ground. I have apphe-J to the judge, because neither you nor I are suHiciently learned to know which of us is in the riaht therefore we must appear before him to-morrow." "^ ' 2. "Frantz," answered Gaspard, "you see that I have mowed the whole of the meadow. I must o-ather the hay to-morrow: I cannot go." ''What h\o be done ?" resumed the other ; " how can I disappoint the judge, who has fixed upon to-morrow to decide the question ? Besides, I think it necessary to know to whom the ground really belongs, before gatheriiio- the crop." ° 3. They had thus disputed for some time, when Gas- pard seized Frantz's hand, and exclaimed, "I'll tell you what, my friend : go to Schweitz alone, explain to the judge your reasons and mine ; argue on both sides • why need I go thither ?" "Agreed," saidFrantz ; " since you trust me with the management of this business, depend upon It I shall act for tiie best." 4. The affair beinsf thus settled, Frantz set off next day for town, explained his reasons, and argued pro and con with all his might. As soon as. the verdict was given, he hastened back to his neighbor. " I coao-rat- ulute you, friend Gaspard," cried lie, as soon as iio'^pre- ceived him ; " the meadow is yours, and I am "lad this business is at an end." ^ U I >'? rll .-• if .til m 102 COMMON SCHOOL READER. 5. From that day, ( says tlie Swiss Chronicle, from which this anecdote is extracted,) the two peasants lived in perfect friendship. No country has presented the simplicity of ancient time like Switzerland ; the man- ners of the golden age are still to be seen in many an Alpine valley. Attached to the customs of their an- cestors, these mountaineers deem it a crime to deviate from them. Improvements among such men are slowly progressive ; but their virtues stand unshaken, and be- come the certain inheritance of their posterity. CHAPTER XLI. The Runaif ay'< my dear mother and undutiful to my father, and the day before he had told me how wrong I was. He spoke kindly and in sorrow, but my pride would not bear it. i th'Miglit I would leave home. 4. My father couohed as I crept along by his door, and I ti!ou|ht that I heard my mother speak to him; so I aVj'jd a m .):nent wth mv littb bundle in mv hand. Lii'l COMMOJ, SCHOOL KEiDER. lOi lioMinjT my breath. He cou.Thed ae; fort; is cH.^S'kted n" """'' "'^ '-" '-'<"' tnew what it was ; she had b e, kn ?ti ' '"""""': ' garters to jrive ,„o o„ „,y birth-dav ' '"? , " '"""• "^' eiie.ied the door of her ii,7i„ ^' ' "'""^'' l^ck, op- l-t ...y tears fell o" tl b ""ch^h:'' ?", i"'"'"' =" '- ' ^ would wake her H,,||- M;,. , , 'f ' "'"' ' "■'•>» aOaid it «. Juntas I ..e,,,/; CO t?^;- g^"P,^J ''"»„ .tair.. 'I«l "liove my he' d ? h t ,""''' ""= «''-^«i"en; rat- .aothor. S,LX J.^"^ Z,:i'\'l'"" '^■''■' -'^ «l>e cned out aiiud .o n.e! Th c n ' '"" ""■'''''■ cars ever s „ce ; ay ! i„ ,„y very d ern s ™"° '" '"? '■ As I hurried awav I fcli , "'"" ' 'vlien he hadmurdered his b other '"T".' T ^''•' ^'^' ther and my sister hid 1,1 , ^^ ^''^''"' '"y mo- keeu u„ki,/d to t ;„ a ,d h L •"' /." '"" ' l'"' ' '""I if I was .nurderiu J"!,;," ,'/; ''^■^""g"'om thus, I fdt a. was robbing the.n of tlteir neace r ""' ' "''*''" ' ^ "»'.. them, that the world c^uld not n^f '""''"« """ jet on I went, ""' "'"''« "1> '" tiiem ; clinibThem:" xZ'b-rd':":::!';" ''^y "'" >^'-" I -ed to "ees by the chureh 1 To, "f Ifh'e?,"'"^' '^^ ^^^'' ''"■ same birds! There's a shiTr;,, "^^ ""^^ "" "» -erhome. I Writ:?K~n:'ho: J ^ r'S4t7t:d^ h)"''; mymo tleris m VT"' '" ""e bed-room wi„. cry ! th/t cry '!!!. °' '""'""S "^'^' °f « ""w. That '--^-gro„.inthi3man:;:ir!h:!-:r;':;irw!.i '«k» I'M |. ■I', '■J~M •If 104 COMMON SCHOOL READER. aiul my inotlior and my sister never Htuffcd tliat hat tlin>u ter was constantly in the gay world, and none of Will- iam s family stispected the dangers into which he was led. nor did he know the amount of them, until his bad intimate, (friend I will not call him,) was detected cheat- ulUV'tT^ 'f'^'- ""'"'^ ^"^^'■-^^^ ''' "^^^«' ^"»d ^v'as ob. liged to fly from the city. S. William had been tempted, by this man, to the pming table ; he had sullered heavy losses there and been led into other wrong doings. The knowledge of all this came like a thunderbolt upon his family Thev were overwhelmed with mortification and grief Will- iam shut himself up in his room. . 4 The Murphys were distinguished people ; nothincr in the city was talked of so much as the disgrace o1' William Murphy Every thing he had done, and much norse acts, that he had not done, were told and retold and every idle word brought to the Murphy's, by people calling themselves " particular friends." ^ ' ^^ ""^'^ 5. Mr. Somebody heard Mr. Somebody else, who was no7w?"j"'*v wV'" ^h^^'y'' '""y '^''' '^'^y should not wonder if Wdliam had sometning to do vvith the ift aiii IOC rOMMON SCHOOL READER. forflrcries. The next person, through whose hancis the report passed, said William had actually received the money, got by the forgery, and paid his gaming debu with it. ♦). Oh, could those persons, who thus talked over t\m calamities and disgrace of the son of their friend, as they would have discussed common news, have looked into the house of the wretched Murphy's ! Could thej hare seen thi; father, pacing up and down his spacioui apartments, his heart filled with grief and disappoint, ment at the disgrace of his own son — could they have seen the mother rise from her sleepless pillow with a sunken eye and fluttering heart — could they have seen the domestics, removing, again and again, the untouched dishes from tables, uselessly spread— and, above all, could ihcy have followed the sister to the room of thai poor young mm, and seen him, the picture of remorse and misery, while she hung over him, trying in vain to convince him that the faults were not irretrievable, that the storm would pass over, and his father would again look upon him with kindness ! Think you, if they had •een all this, (and with the eye of true sympathy they might have seen it,) they could, by aggravating evil ro \K)ns, have multiplied and sharj)enc(i the arrows that were piercing the bosoms of of this unhappy family? Had they, by a generous effort of the imagiiiation, for one moment put themselves in the Murphy's places,— had they imitated Him who, without sin, was touched with the feeling of our infirmities, they would have been silent, or uttered only words of kindness. But, alas! they carelessly cast stones which were to inflict death. 7. One of the two or three friends, who had brought in the flying reports, called on Mr. Murphy the second evening after the disclosure, and told him, as received facts, the rumors about the forgery. The moment the visiter had departed, Mr. Murphy went, for the first time, to William's apartment, repeated what he had just heard, and demanded, in a voice almost suffocated with emotion, a disclosure of the whole truth. S, Th® poor young man had fasted for forty-eight COMMON SCHOOL READLK. 107 hours; 10 was wonk and confused. The >si,rht (,f 1,,. fjither, the ancruish .>r his disordered counteruuice and I he a,iger nashing ir,,,,, hi, eye, deprived hi.n of all use of Ins niuid. He made no atteinpt to explain the cir' cumstance. alleged against hini.-Kasilv as it was he did not see liow ho could extricate hiuiself from susni- 0. Ilis^ faculties were suspended. He merely feeldr asserted h.s nniocence. This was afterwards proved he- youd all question and many circumstances came to hgli that alleviated the s,ns he had committed, hut, alas ' 00 la e for the victim of evil reports. The mornin. after this interview with his father, he was found dead uins hed An empty laudanum vial was heside hi« Pi! -w Iruly, '- there is life and death in the ton^ne ' 11). 1 trust, my youncv fneuds, this story mav awaken your attention to the suhject of evil reports, it may be rare that such fatal injury is inllicted, as in the inst/nce luive related ; but if they do no other harm, they cer- tainly harm yourselves. ^ CHAPTER XLHL I. Tranquility ! thou better name Than all the family of Fume ! Thou ne'er wilt leave my riper age To low intrigue or factious rage : l^or oh ! dear cliild of thoughtful Truth, To tliee I gave my early youth. And left the bark, and blessed the steadfast shore l^re yet the tempest rose, and scared me with its roar 2. Who late and lingering seeks thy shrme. On him but seldom, power divine, Thy spirit rests. Satiety IDS COMMON SCHOOL JiEAlJKR And Slotii, poor counterfeits of thee, Mock the tried worldlino-. J die Hope And (lire Jiemenibrnnce interlope; To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind ; 'The bubble floats before, the spectre stalks beliind. •J. Hut me thy gentle liand will lead At morning through th' accustomed mead ; And in the sultry summer's heat Will build me up a mossy seat ! And when the gust of Autumn crowds, And breaks the busy mooidight clouds, Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attiuit i-iglit as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding moon 4. The feeling heart, the searching soul, To thee J de foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile ! Ml* ( t|] CIlAPTEIl XLIV llteailliig. 1. To read well, is to possess a most useful and iigretable qualilicatu)n ; and though readincr is the ear- liest commenced branch ol' our education, few acquire that degree of proficiency in it which is attainable.- l erhaps this partly arises from injudicious tuition in ear- y life, but clnefly, we incline to believe, from seif-nea- lect in more mature years. For the latter, we can oi- ler no remedy ; for if any be ignorant of the great use •^ ■.t:' *i it useful and COMMON SCnOOL READER. 109 '*h ''m readniiT, and the constant and careful practice, which .one W.1 acquire or preserve excellence in this iccom- ph^hinea the.r early education has been to so little L r/.L ;»' ""''T" '^''' "^ ^"'-^^^ '^y ^^o'^^d -^"«e them to betake themselves to study. 2. But to our young readers, who ;vish to improve vtr lil '' '"\' '"' T^^"^' ""Provement and amusLent v are diligently and, we trust, not quite unsuccessfully laboring, some hints towards correcting erroneous, and acquiring judicious habits of reading, Tvill perhaps not ba uiKK^ceptable, more especially asThey will be Trief M .s u'ords Jar Inm ; consequently, unless yof 1 understand a composition, you cannot possibly read it, even tolerably. ^ ^ 4. The first point then to be attended to, is to put yourself ,n possession of the author's sense, and also of us peculiar turn of expression, and general tone of think- ing lor unless you have secured this possession, noth- ing but mere chance can enable you so to modulate our oice, and place your emphasis, as to convey to \^!^'" the meaning of /,i^, ^v hose r,ords you are 5. Bearing in mind what reading is, be careful to 7nrZr "";' •^^"^^' ""''' ^'^ ^«^^p-^ ^^^ --do' PC k ;;;': "i ''" """^ ^'^^ ^^ ^^"^ ^^ -^^^^ you would peak uords of your own, expressive of the same feel- •ngs upon the same subject. in mni'"''" ''^'j^''''"' '•''' '•' "^'^^ «f punctuation, and uZlT.7Tr' '^ r" S-^^ to each stop pre'cise- ly the pause which it technically represents, you will .leanTs?;"? r"''" '^^ ^'"^'^^ ^^ >-- uuLr, ^o .onto^e.,.,,,of your author, a judicious considera- to proper pauses and cor- 'i nioiHuatiou of tone J: ^" '■^'^^''^g' P''^>-ti<^»iarIy when thc^ compos "fits of long iientences, you ehould take adv ition con- nntage of .,' ! i! t llO COMMON SCHOOL UEADF.ll. every pause, however short, to inlmle a suUicient supply of air to furnisli you vyitli breath to proceed to the nexi pause ; and you should carefully practise the act of taking these inspirations skiifully, avoiding any evident and audible exertions for that purpose. 8. Reading being essentially an imitative faculty, you will undoubtedly derive much benefit from attendinir to the reading of a skilful teacher. Much, however, uum depend upon your own attention and perseverance; .-iiid you nmst be careful to derive instruction from others, rather hi the general principles of reading, than in their particular application to practice ; because every one has a peculiar manner and peculiar tones, and "those which are very graceful in one person, would be equally ungraceful in another. 9. Assiduous practice, careful observation, and a con- stant recollection of what we now reiterate, that in read- ing a work, you are spcakhi^ the author s ivor(/s for him, will give you such a proficiency in this imporfiint and delightful art, as will be highly creditable to vour- self, and etpially gratifying to your friends and associ- ates. CHAPTER XLV. Ill I !. In every department of nature, and in all the works <>f art, we perceive a constant succession of growth and «iccay, of formation and destruction. Nothing is per- manent ; nothing is constant but vicissitude. 2. The warm breezes of' spring dis.solve the snows of winter, clothe the fields with spring grass and blusl.ing r(»ses, c;nd restcire to tlie groves their gr^een, glossy foliagt^ and their warbling birds. Soon the frosts of autumn tinge the forests witli red and vellow rusd scattf^r its t-cnr kaves on the gale, and where the robin lately sung. COMMON SCHOOL RKADER, ill nmidst vviiisperiug leave., the bleak, north wii . whistles tliroucrh naked !)ranclies. S. Night follows day, and day gives place to night. 1 no heat and splendour oi noon yield to the cool breeze |uiii city becomes a silent and sliapeless mass of ruins 11.0 once splon.hd palace is now overgrown with moss '^■M ivy, and tho ualls that once resounded with the har- angues of wisdom and elotiuence, now sleep in silence, or echo (mly the owlet's scream. G. A smnll b;ni(l ot robbers, associated for mutual de- '^nce and assjstiu.ce, become a powerful nation, and the coiuiuorors ot i iio Nvorld. Power procures them wealth, H wealth, introducing luxury, renders them effeminate ■Hi con,e(iuoutlyan easy prey to nations less refined )nt hardier and more warlike. These follow the same outuie, and g.v,'. place to others. The land of Pompey and Ca,sar, and Vir-jl aiul Cicero, is noVv the land of opera singers and puppet shows. l.]ngland, once too \ve.ikto do end her own little island, now "rules the ^v.ives, and possesses territories ''on which the sun nev- er sets. •».i -4, Great changes frequently occur in the character of 112 COMMON SCHOOL READBR. individuals. The son, whose prudence and virtue prom- ised to cheer and support the declining years of his pa- rents, at length abandons himself to vice, and "brings do.m their gray hairs with sorrow to the grave." He, whose youthful heart always sympathised with distress, who was always ready to share his last dollar with the deserving needy, can at length hear with apathy the cries of the orphan, while thousands lie useless in hi* chest. 8. Great and frequent changes occur in the circum- stances of families. The father possesses a large cstiUe, the son, bred in affluence, and neither taught nor ex- perienced in the principles of economy, becomes poor; while the grandson, by his father's example, and his own experience, taught the value of money, and the care and industry, necessary for its acquisition and preservation, becomes rich. 9. We see, likewise, great reverses in the circumstan- ces of individuals. The child of poverty and obscurity, climbs to the highest seats of wealth and honor ; and he, whom thousands had flattered, and millions obeyed, lan- guishes in prison, or bleeds on the scaffold. An obscure adventurer ascends the throne of.a mighty empire, and armies march at his command ; then, hurled from his «eat, and banished from his home, he pines a prisoner on a lone rock in the ocean. "But yesterday he might have stood against the world, now, none so poor to do him reverence." CHAPTER XLVI. €liccrliihic§!S. 1. " The two great ornaments of virtue, which show her in the most advantageous views, and make her altogether lovely, are cheerfulness and good nature. These generally go together, as a man cannot be agrea- ble to others who is not easy within himself. They are COMMON SCHOOL READER. 113 both very requisite m a virtuous mind, to keep out melancholy from the many serious thoughts it is enaaged in, and to hinder its natural hatred of vice from'sour- mg into severity and censoriousness. •2. If virtue is of this amiable nature, what can we hink of tnose vyho can look upon it with an eye of hatred and ill-will, or can suffer their aversion for a party to blot out all the merit of the person who is engaged '"' •Ar^"u"'?\>^ excessively stupid, as well as uncharitable, who believes that there is no virtue but on his own side, and that there are not men as honest as himself who may differ from him in political principles .1 Men may oppose one another in some particulars but ought not to carry their hatred to those qualities which are of so amiable a nature in themselves, and have uothmg to do with the points in dispute. Men of virtue though of different interest, ought to consider them- selves as more nearly united with one another, than with the vicious part of mankind, who embark with them in the same civil concerns. We should bear the same love towards a man of honor who is a livino- an- tagonist, which Tully tells us ev/ery one naturally^does to an enemy that is dead. In short, we should esteem friend '" ^ ^''^' """^ ''^^"'' '^'"'^ '^"""^^ in a 4. I speak this with an eye to those cruel treatments which men of all sides are apt to give the characters of those who do not agree with them. How many per- sons of undoubted probity and exemplary virtue, on either side, are blackened and defamed ! How many men of honour exposed to obloquy and reproach ! Thosi tiierefore who arc either the instruments or abettors in such infernal dealings, ought to be looked upon as per- sons who make use of religion to promote their cause not ot their cause to proinote rv.VKn.m." 5. How true is all this ! and how" large a share of mess. 11 iini pcKsiuvc ualuipp ^ •soiice ol" the di.^position linro c ii forced V --What ab '>er of th '■'i'iUoui. v.htch cause universal Hi y en roin the mem- or wh'tt por^j(;n in any of the I ■!> ?\\'soc;otio!T, cannot Pm . i'l 4 f ' 'Hi 114 COMMON SCHOOL RE*JER, n ! ceive, that to cultivate a gentle and conciliatory spi/it, is to give a guar;),ntee for half the possible pleasure of life? There arc very few minds so dull, or hearts »o cold, or tempers so sullen, that they cannot be won into the reciprocity of a kind and calm bearing. 0. And even where the gen-^rous effort may fail, there is the (piiet and sure reward of an easy conscience- There are indeed no memories more pleasant than those of earnest and constant efforts to be at peace with all whom necessity may make our companions ; to feel that we have studied their pioper tastes and borne with their humours. A cheerful heart is sunshine, at least to its possessor, and very rare are the ungrateful tem- peraments which cannot reflect its light. CHAPTER XLVII. The Be^tructioii ol* ^cniiaclierilb). 1. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold : And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the gea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. '2 Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is ureen. That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, Th;u host on the morrow lay withered and strowii. ;J. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chilJ,. And tlieir hearts but cnce heaved, and for ever grev 'still ! 4. And there Iny the stted with his no.nrll all wide, . But through il there rolled not the breath of his pride : COMMON SCHOOL RBADER. 115 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beatins: surf. ,). And there lay the rider, distorted and i)ale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unlilown. 0. And the widows of Ashur are loud in tiieir wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of iJaal ; ' And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword. Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! CHAPTER XLVIII. 1. About twenty years ago, there lived asinaular old gentleman in the Hall among the Elm Trees. '" He was about three sccu-e years of age, very rich, and somewhat odd m his habits ; but for generosity and benevolence he had no equal. No poor cottage stood in need of com- forts winch he was not ready to supply ; no sick man or woman languished for want of his assistance ; nor even a beggar, unless a known imposter, went empty handed troni tlic hall. 2 Now it happened that the old gentleman wanted a boy to wait on him at table, and to attend him in dilfer- ent ways, for he was very fond of young peoj)le. But as much as he liked the society of the^-!mnl, he had a great aversion to that curiosity in which too many peo- |)ie are too apt to indulge. He used to say, 'The boy hat will peep into a drawer will be tempted to take some- tiling out of It: and, he who will steal a penny, i„ hi* jouth, will steal a j)ound in his manhood.' This disuo- sUum to repress evil, as well as to encourage good con- ^iuct, formed apart of his character, for though of «heer. '• ,» *f s I '^; k 3' ♦ I ^11 • , 1 1 ?f IKS t O.MMOX SCHOOL IIF.ADKU. '¥' himself, Imt aJI to no j)ur|)()se, for it did not prevent his l)ein»T ordered off tiie premises. J J. Siimnel Jones was then shown into the room by ;in ohl steward ; and being of h cnrious disposition, he touched nothinjr, but only looked at thijigs about him At last h(> sHw that a closet door was u little open, nnd thmking that it woidd !)e impossible for any one to know that he had oj)ened it a little more, he very cautiousiv opened it an inch farther, looked down at the bottom of the door, that it might not catch again-l anything iind niJike a noise. Now had he looked ut the top, instead ol the bottom, it might have been better for him, for at the top of the door was fastened a plug v. hich hlled the hole of a small barrel of shot. 1-2. He ventured to open the door, one inch, thoD another, till the plug being pulled out of the barrel, the leaden shot begin to pour out, at a strong rate ; at the bottom of the ch)set was placed a pan ; and the shot, fall- ing upon this pan, made such a clatter that Samuel was half frightened out of his senses. The old gentleman came into the room to iu(|uire what was the matter, and there he found Samuel nearly as pale a, a sheet. Samuel was soon dismissed. 13. It now came to the turn of TIenrv Roberts te he put into the room. The other boys had betn sent to their homes, in ditferent ways, and'no one knew the ex- perience of the others who had been in the room of trial, On the table stood a small round box, with a screw top to it, and Harry, thinking it contained somethiiiir ciiii- ons, could not be easy without unscrewing it ; but no .so(mer did he (h) this, than out pounccd'^an artilicial snake, full a yard long, and fell upon his arm.— He start- ed back and uttered a scream whicii brought the (dd gentleman to his elbow. There stood Harry with the bottom of the box in one hand, the top in the other, and the stii^ke on the Hoor. ' Come, come,' said the (dd gentleman, handing him out of the room, 'one snake is (piite enough to have in the hcmse at a time ; therefere the sooner you are gone the better :' with that he dis- missed him without waiting a moment for his renlv. roM.MON SCHOOL reader. 119 14. RoI,ert Bell i,ext entered the room, and, beincr left nlone, soon conunenced iunusing liinhself by lookincr at the cuno.sities around him. Robert was not only curious and [nymg, but dishonest ; and observin aJl. Vou 111 orio place, I iiianother, all nicn, somewhere and at Kome time, meet with an avS.surance tliat the hope? and fears, tlie thou^rhts and yearninirs, wliicli i)ro(U'((l Jroin or tend to a riajjt spirit in us, are not lieard in sleep, or spectres which the eye sufl'ers, not perceives,— as if on some (hirk nicrht, a pilgrim, suddenly beholding a brirrln star, moving before him, Khonid stoj) in fear and per- plexity. 3. But lo, traveller after traveller passes by him, and rach, being questioned as to whither he is going, makes an answer, *' I am following my guiding star." The pilgrim <]uickens his own steps and passes onward in confidence. More confident still will he be, if, by the way-side, he should lind, here and there, ancient nioiiu- ments, each with its votive lamp, and on each the name of some former pilgrim, and a record that there he had first seen or first begun to follow the benignant star! 4. Not otherwise is it with the varied contents of the Sacred Volume. The hungry have found food, the thirsty a living spring, the feeble a stall', and the victo- rious wayfarer, songs of welcome and strains of music: and as lon tiio f sr uroater part t.f them lliere prob- ably were wiver., f;ilhers. nuniers, Hi\i^, dnnolitrrt^, fci.s- tcrF, hrelhr, ai\d slird- du'i^' it?; \y<\"0 ('tlido-enre en a dark hut not nncrateful wor!il.-v!ur erMiehin.ui tci k flu^ sfr(M't that lieH alcntr thi^, quay, :•- that we hiul the city en (^ir left and tlio hiycnnu- ri'dit. The vast c;;p-i< iial rr.ltlinjr ef a earriage ever a finrc.th pivoiPeiif, the irvi] ( f a Kf litrry jir('e;.-trirn, the clial- k-.nge ei' a rentr) . rr thr f;en^rr ef a hcatnian, %vrrc the only gonmis th; t hv( ko iho siillnCFSfif the Ik ur. The eJool of inconlight playing cm the rippind eurfaco oi'tho COMMON SCHOOL RLADEK. 138 water, and ariion;^ the rigiri„^r of the ships that crowded (he hirb nir ari:l rosiiwr on the sombre and inussive edi IOCS t!i It iuu^ i tho stress of Naples, and the dome. and spires tint «h K)t up above them, was like those asK cribed t.) th.i w iu;l of same Arabian nncrician. How 8,)lcnii., h.w sa,.thin.r, is the contemplatuni of such u .ceiic at Slid. a.i hour !-inseusibiiity itself could scurc'e- lyl)eh;)l(l It with )ut emotion. ;J. The (list incc! from Naplos to Ilesina is five milee but the country seats on tlie road are so frecnient, that you scarcely appear to h ive issued from the city at all in iravdin. a K.ery little wlule we passed a l.m.p burn* in<( before the .mage of the Vir• Having at length reached the foot of the cone, we d.smou.|te(l, and began to ascend the stc epest and 11' t d.thcult pirtol the mountain. We commenced »U . gre;,t spirit, but soon had occasion to repent our fash rapi, ity, for, before reaching the sumit, we felt the ;;■'" oi.the strength we had foolishly thrown away at the begmn.g. The ridge whicl. smVounds the crater St view of 'PI !h nucrior filled us with astoiushment and C. Wo looked d awe. own into an immense, ions frightful aulf horn Whose bottom and dides millions of little columoi' «ltl#i M ')•' i. I n • *» ! 124 COMMON SCHOOL READER. of smoko were issuing, and in whose centre rose an in- oer mound, which threw up, at short uiiervals, ilanics, volumes, of wlute smoke, pumice stones, and nieltod lava, with a sound simdir to thiit of tluinder. The world can scared; contain a prospect of more dreary and sublime desoiation. 7. ''Nature," says the author of Connna, " is hi-re no more in relation with man, lie can no more be- lieve himself her lord, fr she escapes from his tyranny by means of deatli." Althounih the guide-book caution's visiters against tlie " ambiti( us -.md mcst daiigcrcusnuid- ness" of de'.Ncending into the crater, warning them against trusting to the apparent calm of the volcaiio, we were rash enough to disregard the advice, and veiiturf' dov/n. It is two thousand feet deep, and can be de- scended only in one place. 8. The surf ice of the crater consists of layers cf lava, brokeji and thrown up by the force of the intorniil fire^, as we sometimes see ice along the margin ef cair rivers. These hrcs are const:mtly working up, so that, in some places, we trod on almcst red-hot lava, and in others, the smell of sulj)hur was so strong, that we were well nigh sufTjcated. All this notwithstandii/g, we pro- ceeded over t!ie d uigerous soil, till we reached tlio in- ner mound, which we had the still greater temerity to descend also. Here we had a view of what may ht termed the inner crater consisting of one j)rincipal mouth, and two smaller ones, from which smoke, flnrnc. und liquid lava have l)eeil issuing for eighteen hundred years. 9. VVc approached so near the fearful abyss, that we could distinctly see the boiling, red-hot lava in its bow- els, and with a single lenp might have gained thiit ini- mortrditv at Vesuvius, which the mad poet Empedoclcs did at ^tnn, Id. The sun had risen while we v/ere in these lower regions, and, on re-ascending, the view from the sutnmi' of the nv>untain was. indoerl p, r^dief t:> the feelings oc- casioned by those scenes of desolate and dreary sublimity which alone meet the eye in that abode of death. Tk COUMON SCHOOL READER. 186 Bay of Naples, with its f liry islands and ita winding, village-crowned coast; ti>e sweep of the ocean; the quean-like city, with its innamcrable domes aud spires, glitterin;r in the clear aunlight of morning ; the Phle- giaean Fields, the fiblcd I) ittlc-ground of gods, and th« I'av'ourite haunt of the Muses ; the Canipagna Felice, th:it classic valley, covered with the richest vineyarus in the world, aud g ly with a thousand villaoes ; and, finally, the distant Appcninos, iifiHig their majestic summits to the clouds, all lay spread cut before us like some en- chanted scene, believed to exist only in imagination, and to be seen alone on the pa^es of romance. What an accumulation of beauties 1 The world can scarcely ccn» tain such another prosperu. Well may the Neapolitan! b2 proud of what nature hj^s tl( n3 for their country. Nowhere else h is sha scattered her charma with such iairish prodigality. CHAPTER LII. *That ye, tlaB-orj^^ga PJs gjovei'tj'j might 1. 'Tis summer, mid ilie fervid mid day sun Pours forth his scorching rays, in Judea's wild And barren dej^crt; where no coclinn- brcezo Revives the f lintl;! v spirit, and no tree Invite3th2 wcxry iiMvc'lur v) rest Beneiih its s'lolter. Whitlier, in this hour, Gccth thu lonely man ? V/!iy might he net H ive tarried till the coming night had ceded The burniti'/ ;jin..!s? ilui \c ry t^eps are turned Towards l>jtl\ ny ; f.r t'.iare cue uh. m ho Icvea l3 sleapiii J in t'.ie grave, v.h>.] lie m, kes hulo o'xtliC l!;a siMcs' l;c .n^, ;.ud ij cdi ilrih L*.\3:iJ tj i;:b vr- a.i, ■V T iv . fiii. H •a 1 it Ik- I _ ? ? «', 4 4' 126 9. COMMON SCHOOL ttEADER. Low in the glowing we«t The sun is sinking now, and twilicrht cornea In all its calm and gentle loveliness, To bleas the restless world. The weary now May seek their quiet homes, and there forget The cares and sorrows which the day-light brin|» * But he aits down, Weary and faint with hunger, by the way. His followers gather round, to share with him A piece of bread, and water from the spring. ^' The midnight wind Blows fiercely o'er the waves of Galilee. ' Dark clouds are gathering fast ; and loud and deep The thunder answers to the dashing surge. The bird sinks to its nest ; — the wandering bcait Seeks shelter from the blast; but he alone Walks by the troubled lake ; and on his head, Unsheltered from its fury, bursts the storm. Why seeks he not his home? Why seeks he net Rest with the loved (yies who would gather round Hi^n in their fondness, and would gladly mak« His pillowed bed ? 5k ' Alas ! birds hare their nesti, The wandering beast his lair ; but he hath not A place to rest his head ! 'Tis his to taste Of every woo which mingles in the cup Of human wrctchcdriCsp, — to be::r tlic scrrn And insults of llie w( rid, upon whcse decdf Of dark and fearful guilt, he pours the light Of heavenly triith. Death p(-isonrtli the cup, Y'M Hr .shrinks nc;! to (irain the biuerest dregs COMMON SCHOOL READKR. Itf ^- Such was the lot he choM, Freely and fearlessly, to bear for us, That through his poverty we might be rich In never-failing treasures : By his death To open wide the ^ates of endless bliss — To triumph o'er th ' frrave, and to disclose A healing fountain where the sick may find Health and immortal vicrour. 7. Awake ! awake my soul, to son^s of praise I In lofty anthems sing the love of Him Who hath redeemed us I Love unsearchable, InefT-ible, and boundless ; which doth make Us kings and priests to God. The heirs of Hiw, Whose empire is the boundless universe, — Before whose throne the flaming seraphim Bow down and veil their faces. 9. In vain, alas ! I seek an earthly strain, Worthy the sacred theme. I'll bow me down In silent adora'.ion, till the hour When my freed spirit shall ascend to join The countless millions, who with ceaaelesa tc^og*, Worship before Him, ■# n M CHAPTER LIII. Why should Ihe Spirit of Mortal he Prosid ? i. Oh, why should the spirit of mortil be proud T Like a fast fleeting meteor, a fist-llyin j cloud — A iiash of iho lightning, a break oi' liie vvav*, He passes from life to his rest in the grave. ^ , Ml 1'29 COMMON SCHOOL HRADER. 'M*' 2. The Icnvcsof the oak and (ho willow shall fade^— lie scattered ;ir<;iiii(l aiui timotlicr he laid. The yoiniir and the 'iven — Ti\e wiee and l^io i;-; j.-.h— the nuihy a!;d just, Have quiolly mimded ih.eir l.( tus in the dust. 7. Wc are the !<:;ii;c thin";st!i'f our fnlhcrs have been— We see the hwv.c si-hi;; th t < ur r,;ther.>A have seen— Wc drink the s.m e ttream, :nd we (eel tlie san^.e tun, And we run the l<;.i:;o ccuitc thwt tur aibers have run. 8. The thou„-hl3 wo u;o l!;;!:!. :r5;T rf^ they tco wculd think ; COMMON MCIIOOK Rr.Ar)i:R. 129 Troin iho <]e;illi we nrc KhrinUinfr tVoni, thcv too would sliiiiik — To the life we nrc. diMgiiii^ lo they U)o wouM clHig, But it .speeds iVdiii the eiirtli like ;i bird vu its wiuj^. 9, Yes, )i'.']»e and despondence, ;uid jdeasnre ;)nd paiu Are mingied together like sunshine and rr.in — Auti the smile ;uid the ti;ar, and the sonir and the dirire, Still lolK)w e?.ch other like burge up :n suri^c. no. 'Tis tht^ wiidv of an eye— 'i is thv) drauiiht of s breath — Fri)ni the biossoni of youth to thop:;ien(?ss of death — I'Vom the Ljihlcd silooti to the bier and t!ie shroud — Oh, why .should the spirit vi' mortil'j be proud f 'W n Ml ciiai»tl:r liv 1. The fi^llowin;^ extract froin .'i{)riv'it? letter, writtea witli no view to publioatiiMi, from the "learned Black- snnth," siiewslhe inan;u!r in which !ie i:iad(; lusreniark- aMe att liinneats, and tiiay \:c. i f .sc'vic; to oilier rainds in siniihir eircunistances. 2. "1 was the yiMinircst of many brctliren, antl my pa- rents were poor. My means nths after his do:,va?e, I aj)prenticcd my- self to u bhicksiTulh iii my native villacre. Thither I car- ried an indomitable taste f(ir readinif, which I had pro- viously ac(]Mired through the medium of the Society 1*- f { ^ ]m [if ^ Pi < 1 i; If '*^ roMMON acnooL reader, brary--^al] the historical works in wiiicli, I had rt that tune perused. At the c.\[).raticn a little nirre than half my apprenticeship, I sutklcnl.v c(-nceivecl the idea of «tiidyiu„r Litiii. Th;-(»u4h the usbist;;nce of n.> elder l;r(.tliei\ \vk» h u! hinu-^elt' ;icrn!ii'^— tliis, ;ind nn licur ?.t noon, bo- iniTthe only linic tint 1 could devote myself durinrr the (l.iy. After becoininrr soniuwhitt funilliar with this Jun- gmcfo, I looked tiroiiiid me for the meaiif of initiuting myself into the lield of orientirU literature, and to ra/ (ificp reirret and ooiicern, I fomid mypro;,rrcss in this dn reclion iKMJood up by the wrnt cf letjiMMie lxcK>. 8. 1 imn 'viiitcly bejjui t,"> devise nieui.s of obviating fhir, obptucle ; and after nimy plans. 1 c( ncluded to .seek !: place as some sailer bound lo Eurcpe, thinkinc; in this wiy to have an oportnnity rf c(d!ectni>r(Te anfl my native place, to carry this plan into execution. I traveled on foot ti Bcston, a dwfance of mere than a huu'.lred miles, to lind a vess<:'l bound to I<"!ir; pe. Tnthis I was disappointed ; and whilo r'jvolvino; iu n.y mind v.dnt steps to take, r.ccidentallj !i2irdof the American A!iti(iinrian Society, and fcnniij Iiere, to my iniiniteiTrntificaii'in, such a coHectinn of an- cient, ;nodern, and oriential laniniages, as I never con- ceived to be collected in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine with whit sentimentsof gratitude I was affected, whan, up')!i evincinrf a dosire to examine aomc of ihe.?o rich and rare, works, I v/is kindly invited to an unlimi- 'crl participation in all the benefits tf thig neble institu- tion. 10. Availin;r myself of the kindness of the Directors, I spent about three hou s a day in the hall, which, with fin hour at noon, and about three in the cveninir, mako ap the portion of the day which 1 appropriated to niy ft idies, the rest bein:^ occupied in arduous manual labor' TlirouTh thfi ficilitics afforded by this institution, I hare been able to odd 5?o much to my previous acquaintanco with the ancient, modern, and oriental laniruages, as to 1)3 able to read upwards o^ fifty of thoin xvith mor9 pr ik^ \n i '+ ♦ ««2i4i laci lity 11' pi ti *"^ COMMON SCHOOL READER. CHAPTER LV. "If thou canst. t)ciii vo, ni! (hii;gs an; j-'^sKiuU; to Jiiia that beliivtith. ' I. " The word Iir.prssihlo is net I": ' nc};," t-aid Na- pol;>r;n t-) the Duke of Vicenza ; .-nd at tJ:e tiri.e k said it, — he li:ul mi ctUoi-cd riinsccw — his career of un- checked ;-:iicce.-^y iiii;Tiit huve c:i;one i'liv U> make hiiiij^clfu bcll.-ver in his own pn position. Tiie in;periKl Victor v.'e'i kiu)\v IJKit a j)crstU:.sion ol" its trulh, an:ciin- the pa- pie who t/trn so l)ljiidly wori^hi|.ped him, v.cuhi r.lnuii make it true. In the cnrecr c/l" discovery, ;'ir.( njT the conquerors of science, the si;:r.e doctriiie"hi:s prcducct! efiects quite as brdliant, and inere enduring, than am t!;nt Ikivc resulted from these " imperial seaf^ of t-lau^lK ter. '2. Often have we fcen the (r.ith tliat " hcficth .-iii thnigr." bcc( n;e the cnccuraKc r under rcper.tcd faliuref, and the .stnmil.ir.t to Jahcnry which have trMiiinr.icd.' t'Slc.r many (f;;\T, in cvit ri( us eucco^s ; and tix uoh wedc net moan to adi pt the maxim in its fuli c?(cnt, ;.'nd ii- fCYt that impc^Mbiiity is net to be ilund In the philcbc- plucal dictu nary, y^it we have wilneef rd t:o iViany vie- tories-— we ]u:ve so ci'ten written '-Kc pins ultra" aitur charts cf di?crvery, md then iccn^i me held adventurer carry Ids re^errrbes iar bcyri;d ( i.r ahsigncd bcuiidarv. that while we admit its existence, we caunrt attempt i- fix its pesitiin, but niust ciar-s it am.cnv tluFc bcdies ct '-vvhcse place we know < idy that l{:oy are n* t nearer ditiii a certain number rf miUu n lea^Tues, at the som^e time being quite irrncrant wlietlur they are net seme huudreJ times iinther. * 3. As years clrprr. — as knewlcdirc increase:-:-— the point when iiupessibdity cenmiences a[;pears jnere dis- tant, and eur trust in the inlirute i-ratp ef luminn in- tellect, cur confidence in cur {xiwers cf discovery, our pride in present possessions, and < ur hopes ct^ future ac- quisitions, become more unbcuuded. We have passed COMMON SCHOOL RBADER. 133 hut biiliLVcth. ' that period when to be incredulous was to be learned • among a haJf-eniightened race only can that dogma be received : the extremes meet ; the destitution and the perfection of knowledge are alike confiding and liberal 4. It is an imperfect creed which engenders ascetics and encourages persecution. The ignorant worshipper raises his altar to " the unknown god ;" the inspired teacher warns us that we "judge not." It is semi-bar- barism that is subject to narrow-minded prejudice • it is the "little learning" that fosters conceit and increduli- ty. 1 he savage has the most unlimited faith in moral powers, m his acknowledged ignorance of their true ex- tent : he believes in giants and in magic— in words that control the elements, and in sinews that can remove the mountain :— the man of science comes back almost to the same confidence in human power to produce such results. 5. The first chemists, unacquainted with the methods of analysis, or with the composition of those substances upon which they operated, were misled continually by deceptive appearances; yet, still holding fast their faith in the mystery, still believing in the possibility of ob- taining their long-sought elixir, they laboured on, undis- mayed, m spite of disappointment, and even of danger when a false religion was arrayed against a false science' and anathemas were pronounced on the possessors of the " phdosopher's stone." 6. We owe them many thanks ; they stumbled, in the dark, upon discoveries from which the world has reaped ' more benefit than any that could have sprung from the doubtful influence of their desired object if they had attained It; but without some such stimulant as that attoroed by the hopes of obtaining boundless wealth and length of days, they would not have worked at all 7. In like manner, it was the fillacious speculations of astrology, it was the craving desire felt by humanity 10 penetrate the mysteries of futurity,— the fond belief ihat, on the aspects and motions of ihp planet" our late depends, and by them could be predicted— that first gave interest to the study of astronomy. Tliese im ih I 134 COMON SCHOOL HEADER. mi *g ft , • r'^> pulses first induced man to number the stars, to track the motions of the pianet;*, to record eclipses, which have proved the best guides to modern chronologists in fixing the dates of long-past events, and to observe phe- nomena from which we have deduced tliu uniformity of the Earth's rotation, and the inequalities of the lunar orbit. In short, here also we owe to the ignorance and the credulity of past generations, th;it any fouiida- tions were laid of that science, which evinces, more than any other, at once, the powers of imm and his insicrniti- cance. 8. A wiser people were not so liberal ; the super- stitious men of Athens accused Anaxiniiinder of at- tempting to bind their gods by inunutahle laws ; an im- piety for which their sentence, rendered merciful onlv by the interposition of Pericles, condenied him and his family to perpetual exile. When light began 'again to dawn in Europe, after the long night of the dark agen, persecution rose with it, and the bigotetl cruel tv that imprisoned, but could not subdue Roger Bacon ; that pursued Galileo to the end of his life ; and that induced the more tiyiid Copernicus to withhold, for years, the publication of his grand, but then supposed to be danger- ous trutlis, — furnishes but additional proof hc)w intoler- ant, imperfect knowledge will render its possess(>rs. 9. To those daring spirits who laboured on, unsub- dued by the dilliculties and undaunted at the perils that impeded their course, how great a venerati(m is due! The leaders of a forlorn hope, they paused not to con- sider tlie obstacles which obstructed their progress, but struggled fearlessly torwar whom nothing i^ liopeless, nor (inyihing incredible COMMON SCHOOL KADER. 135 moti, who perpot.uilly enlarge tlie dominion (»f possibility and teach us how distant is tlie limit of the attainable ' and thoiijrji their dangers and difficulties are less than those ot their predecessors,— though monks can no longer threaten them with dungeons, and much of the iiiechanical drudgery of science is found, done to their hands— neither in brilliancy nor in usefulness will their ac.lnevements he surpassed by those of any period of which history has preserved the record. If . •I'm .*; CHAPTER LVl, ^-rood Advice. I. Dr.Mt Brsi.Roi):— You will be surprised, perhaps at receiving a letter liom me ; but if the end is answered tor u Inch It IS written, I shall not think my time mis- ^Fnt. V our father, (who seems to entertain a very liivorable opinion of your prudence, and I hope you mom It,) in one or two of his letters to me, speaks of the ilifhculty ho IS under to make you remittances. '2. W1ieth(!r this arises from the scantiness of his liinds, or the extensiveness of your demands, is a matter I'i conjecture with me. I hope it is not in the latter liecaiise common prudence, and every other considera- tion winch ought to have weight in a reflecting mind are opposed to your requiriim more than his eonve'iiience' :ui(l a regard to his other ffliildren, will enable him to pay; and because he holds up no idea in the letter uhicii would support me in the conclusion. •^ Vet, when I take a view of the inexperience ,ol youth, the temptations and vices of cities, and the dis- tresses to which our Virginia gentlemen are driven by an accumulation of taxes and the want of a market J am almost inclined to ascribe it in part to both. There- tore, i\H a friend, I give you the following advice. 4 Let the object which carried you to Philadelphia ^e always before your eyes. Remember that it is not |»';!'. !3G t'OMMON SCHOOL IlKAOKK. llic mere dudjf of i\\v. law, but to hecomc nniunit m the proleasioii of it, that is to yirld honor and profit. The first wan yt)ur choioi^ ; l(>t the si'rond l)o your ambi- tion. Dissipation m iiiconipatihio witli hotli ; the com- pany, in which you will iin|>rovc most, will be least ex- to d \vi [ pensive suppose tliat you will, or think it ritrlit tluit you should, alwayH be in company with »>enalors and Philosophers ; but of the juvenile Icmd, let me advisi; you to be choice. 5. It is easy to make ac«piaintances, but very dillicull to shake tlnMu olV, liowcvtM- irksome and unprolitabli' tlicy are found, alter we have once connnitted ourselves to tlicni. The indiscretions which, v(My often, they in- vohintarilf leail om: intt>, prove equally distressing aiul dingraceful. G. Be ctuirteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be W(>ll tri(Ml before von iri^t- them v«iiir confuieuce. True frendship iw a |)lant of slow jjrnmtli. and must uuderoo and withstand tlu> shocks oi' adversity, before it is entitled to tlu' aj)pellation. 7. JjCt your heart feel for the alllictions antl distresses of every tuie, and let'your hand giv«\ in proportion to your purvse ; rememlxM'ii ir always the estimation of tlio widow's mite ; but tli;it it is not every^one who askctli. deserves cliarity ; all, however, are worthy of inquir}. or the deservino- niay sniVer. 8. Do not conceive that line clothes make fine nu'ii, any more than liiu* feathers nndie tine birds. A plain, genteel dress, is more admired, ami obtains niore credit than hu'e and embrt)idery, m the eyes of the judicious and sensible. {}. The last thlnsx which I shall mention is first in im- p«|f tance ; and that is to .vvt)n) l)id her sick mother good morning. 'I Julia again wealed her.self at her books, and hfKi 1j im I iSti COMMON SCHOOL READER. learned about a half a page, ( for being a very good French scholar, it took her but a short time to learn her lessons,) when her sister Ellen entered with her comb and brush in her hand, and her dress hanging over her arm. ** O mercy !" said Julia, drawing a deep sigh, "I was in hopes I should hav^ a minute's peace, and a rconi to myself, but it's always just so ; I no sooner sit down to study, or to do any thing else, than the whole family are after me ; some wanting one tiling, and some another ; and now Miss Ellen, I should like to know what pn want." '• Why," said Ellen, with an ill-suppresi^e{l laugh, " I should think old Polly had come," (a well- known shrew in the neighboring village where' they spent their summers,) " for "^I have been dreaming that she was here, and was scolding and storming all day long.'' 3. '■! wish you would keep your thoughts ;tlid your dreams to yourself; 1 am sure I don't know who want? to hear them," muttered Julia, in an under tone. "0!'' said Ellen, " I had forgotton that you asked me what 1 wished you to do : I want you to do just wliat you always do ; t(» wash my face, brush my hair, and fasten my dress; you know it never takes you more than ten minutes." 4. " Ten minutes !" said Julia ; *' I am sure I don t know who has ten minutes to spare." She then rose liastily from her seat, but, on the way to the wash-stand, she struck her foot against the rocker of a chair wliicli i,ui!;bt to have berMi set in its proper {)lace. This only inci-eased her anger, and taking up the pitcher she poured the water into the bc^vl with ^vich violence that it spattc'-ed the wall, and nearly covered the beautiful French wash-stand, whi^p her father had given her hut a few months bef(n-e, and which until now she had kept as bright as eve* Sh(> at last succeeded in washing Elicn'rface, ; nd in brushing her beautiful curls; but it was not until ti-.e little gir! liad shed many tears, ami liud said many times, " Please don't pull (piite so hard.' 5. euum the 1 reakfast bell rung, and she hastened to meet lier fatlicr and bid him good niorning. At tlir table sh'i was kind to her brothers and sisters, and talk- n;» ■' '-'1 COMMON SCHOOL KEAUKU. iJiO 0(1 of the weatlier and the times : but still u keen ob- server might have perceived the lingering traces of the recent storm. 0. After breakfast, she prepared her sister for scliool, and a little before nine, left the house for her own school room. Among her companions, she was kind and af- fectionate, and all loved and admired her. After she returned liome she was sulky and disobliging to all the younger members of the family ; but her father no sooner entered the parlor than the cloud inmiediately dispersed, and she was as pleasant as a kind and affec- tionate father could have desired ; for she was more afraid of his displeasure than of any thing else in the world. The rest of the day passed very nmch in the ^ supplied him liberally with pocket money, which he spent as soon as it came, in the purchase of things ol' no value, and which he either j)roke or gave away, as soon as he had them. The same propensity adhered to him m manhood ; and he at length became a bankrupt and was compelled to hll a very inferior station as a servant; m which character he continued till old age reduced him to the necessity of applying lor parochuii relief. Henry Saveall, on tlie contrary, with very small means, by a strict and Ir.udable economy, purchased some valuable books, api)lied himself to reading, ixnd by itidtisirious habits, rose to eminence, acquired a compe'- tent fortune, which he employed in doing good, and died esteemed aud respected. ' (). Tbere is no habit more injin-ious thnn that ofirossip- ing; that is, of listening eagerly to the conunon reports of the day, prying into the ct)iicerns of others, and re- tiuling the information, from house to house, with ad- ditions and embellishments. To commit a secret to such persons is to employ a town-crier, lor they ar*- p'ire to publish it to the first individual they meet. 'This bad and dangerous habit chiellv belongs to those idle persons who have no business ol their own to attend to. ».;i ■*v3l CHAPTER LIX. The difiicoiiteutc^ Peiitliiliiin, 1. An old clock that had stood for fifty years m a farmer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of coiiplaint, early one summer's mornhig, before the l^iiinily was stirring, suddenly stopped, (rpon this, the •'lal-plate, ( if we may credit the fable,) changed coun- tenance with, ainrm ; the hands made a vnin effort t(t contmue their course; the wheels remained motionless ^vith surprise ; the weights hung speechless ; each mem- i:i 142 COMMON SCHOOL READER, l>or felt disposed to l;iy the blame on the others. At leiifrth the dial instituted a tbrnial inquiry as to the cause <>r the stagnation, when iiands, wheels, and weights, uith one voice, protestcul their innocence. •J. Hut now a taint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke: — "1 confess myself to be the sole cause of the stoppage ! ai^d I am willincr, for the geueral satisfaction, to assij ■, reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking.' pon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged, that it wjis on the very })()i»it of strikin^r. 'I. " Liizy wire !" exclaimed the dial plate, holding up its hands. " Very good !" rejdied the pendulum, " it ii* vastly easy for i/uu, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every bcdy knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly easy for i/oif, T c^v, to accuse other jjcople of laziness' V<.u, who have hnd nothing to do all the days of your life, but to stare people in the face, and to amuse your- f^elf with watching all that goes on in the kitchen ! Think, f beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life, in this dark closet, and to wag backwards and for- wards, year after year, as i do." 4. " As to that," said the dial, " is there not a win- dow in your house, on purpose for you to look through V " For all that," resumed the pendulum, " it is very dark here ; and, although there is a wind w, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life ; and if you wish, I'll tell you liow I took this disgust at my employment. I hap- pened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in thji.course of only the next twenty- tour hours; perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the exact sum." o. The minute hand being (juick at figures, presently replied, " Eighty-six thousand four hundred times." •' Exactly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, I appeal to you all, if the very tiiought of this was not enough to fatigue one ; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day, by those of months and years, really it 13 no wonder if I felt discouraged at tlie prospect ; 3o, COMMON SCHOOL RKADER. 143 h.^ lifter a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I'll stop." 6. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance du- ring this harrangr.e ; but resuming its gravity, thus re- plied : Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, mdustrious person as yourself, should have been overcome by this sudden thought It is true you have done fi great deal of work in your time • ^ have we all, and are likely to do ; which, akhoucrh it miiv iitiguc us to think of, the question is, whether it wi'l tatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favour to give about half a dozen strokes to illustrate my arrrn. ment ?" -^ "^ 7. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in Its usual pace. " Now," resumed the dial, " niay I bf> sJlowed to niquire, if that exertion was at all iati^uim: •T disagreeable to you . ", , . - INot in the least," replied the pendulum, " it is not of six strokes that I complain Bor of sixty, but of miUiona." 8. -Very good," replied the dial; - but recollect that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to vxccutti but one ; and that however otten you may hereafter have to swincr, a mo- ment will always be given to you to swino- in " •< 'pbat c<>ns,deration staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum iiien 1 hope, resumed the dial-plate, " we shall all immediately return to our duty ; for the maids will lio in bed untd late if we stand idling thus." 9. Upon this the weights, who had never been ac- cused of light conduct, used all their influence in urff- ing to proceed ; when, as with one consent, the wheels fegan to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum ^egan to swing, and to its credit, ticked as loud as ever- wnue a red beam of the rising sun streamed throuah »iiolem the kitchen, shining full upon the dial plate it brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter. ' ^^ When the farmer cam^e down to breakfast that morn- ing, upon looking at the clock, he declared that hi» '^atcli had gained half an hour in the night. ^^■■r ;lil ;. IM COMMON SCHOOL READER. CHAPTER LX 'I fl' Oepciicl upon your oun Exertions. 1. Tills is an excellent principle for the working and trading classes of the community to adopt, but the true philosophy of it is scarcely understood. — Notwithstand- ing the njany ties which connect a man with society, he nevertheless has imprinted on his forehead the original r M-] Jich had been t.^ tiui ut the ver ', en the greater i li ONAl-AIITK, U'ho«e in and J'i'-' JiincR .LC n p.Ti;ices IKi COMMON SCHOOL READKK. ')h(7ed, after having filiod the enrtli witli tlie terror of his name, alter havinir (lehj<;eil Kur(,pe witji tears and hhiod, and ch)the(i r' j world in sackclotli, closed liih (lays in K>nely banislnnent, ahnest literally exiled i'roni the world, yet where he CDuld sometimes see his coun- try's banner waving o'er the deep, but wiiich would not, nor could not bring him aid. ih Thus, those lour men, who from the peculiar situii- non of their jxirtrjiits, heenuMl to stand as representa- tives of all those whom the world calls " great ;" — thcisc ibur, who severally made the earth tremble to its centre, severally died, one by iiitoxication, the second l)y suicide, the third by assas.sinalion, and the last in lonely exile' "' How arc the nnghtv fallen."' iiM CHAPTER LXIL The lli!!$toriau'K Kcflcctioiifx. J. Through the long period of five thousand yes a strong and lofty attitude ; it basks, for an hour, in the beams of prosperity, and drinks deeptiie inebriatniL^ draughts of luxury and pleasure. And now Its beauty fades ; its strength decays ; its glory perishes: and the declining day hastens a night of storms, antS «'(udi«, Tiud everlasting darkiie ^ss COMMON SCHOOL HEADER. 147 I' 1 -I The nations of men re.sieinl)]e the perpetuallv roWiuir and conflictnifr waves of the ocean. If a hiJh.w rises hi(rh, it is bnt to sink as low ; h' it dash its neiirj,. I)()rni(r hilh)w, It is but to he dashed in its turn • if it niire and fba.n, it is hut to exhaust itself tlie sooner ■ it It roll traiKjuilly on the bosom of the deep it is but to sink iorever by its own gravity. Jt is thus with all na- tions, with all human institutions, and with all the noblest inventions and works of art. 4. And, alas ! the ravages of time, thonah rapid and resistless, are too slow to satisfy the furious racre of restless mortals ! They must share the empire of de str.iction. To them, the work of death is most pleasant - and to cultivate the art of killing and destroying has boon their chief pride and glory, in all age/, though u'hile employed in that dreadful work, they sink in destruction themselves. r> Unhappy children of men ! When will you learii to know and prize your true interest.' When will you be convinced of that, than which nothincr is ,„ore certain, that war adds infinitely to the number and weightof your calamities? that it fills the world with misery, and clothes all nature in mournincr ? tint it covers your souls wuh crimson, inexpiable\ruilt 'and Iniugs upon you the wrath und curse of Heaven 'f ' (i. Is there to be no change in this tragic, this dire- t'll scene ot blood and slaughter ? Shall brotherly Jove and cordial affection, never become universal, and peace never wave her white banner throughout the earth '/ Is t.'ere no durable institution, founded on virtue ' and permanent as the eternal rules of justice ? Is the're no firm ground of hope ? no rock, on which truth Pnd reason may build a fabric that shall never fall ' 7. Yes, there is a kingdom ; its foundations were laid of old ; Its King is the God of heaven ; its law is per- ectJove; its dommions are wide, for they extend to he wise and virtuous in all worlds; all its subjects are sate, for they are defende'' b" ^ i.v,:^},.,. p_ "^ ^^^ , J — lic.t^.m .. L.J ^iiinignty ruvver : and lliey shal rise to eternal prosperity and glory, when all earthly kn.gdoms shall vanish like a shadow » a dr^m J4r< fO-MON SCHOOL Ri; ADi.r, H (JUAPTKR LXIII. 1. To pray(?r ! to pravor ! — for the morniiifr br(*ak>. And Efirtlj in l»or Maker's smile awakes. His lijjlit is on all, below and alKnr, — The liijht (^f frjadncss, and life, and love. Oh ! then, on tlie breath of this early air, Send upward the incense of jLTateful iirayer 2. To prayer ! — for the gloricnis .sun is <;jone, And the uatherinfr darkness of ni^ht comes on Tiike a curtain from God'.^ kind liand it llows, To shade the couch wliere his children repose. Then kneel, while the watchinir stars are brifiht, And give y(Mir la.st thoughts to the Guardian of niola. {\. To prayer ! — for the day that God has blest Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest. It speaks of Creation's early bloom, Tt .«^peaks of the I'rince wlio burst the tomb. Then summon tlie spirit's exalted powers, And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours, 4. There are smiles and tears in the mother's cvr^. For her new-born infant beside her lies. Oh! hour of bliss! when the lieart o'erfl.In<.*<<« Cow tViAir otann Ul lUUiv iliajcsj.iv lai luvj ,-v«..-^, When, side by side, their ranks ih«y form. COMMON SCHOOL REAIinn. To wave on high th^ir plumea of green, And fight their battles with the storm. 4. God of the light and viewless air ! Where summer breezes sweetly flow, Or, gathering in their angry might, The fierce and wintry tempests blow : All — from the evening's plaintive sight, That hardly lifts the drooping flower, To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry Breathe forth the language of thy power. 5. God of the fair and open sky ! How gloriously above us springs The tented dome of heavenly blue, Suspended on the rainbow's rings ! Each brilliant star that sparkles through. Each gilded cloud that wanders free In evening's purple radiance, gives The beauty of its praise to the(;. 6. God of the rolling orbs above ! Thy name is written clearly bright fn the warm day's unvarying blaze, Or evening's golden shower of liirhi : Por every fire that fronts the sun, And every spark that walks alone Around the utmost verge of heaven, Were kindled at thy burning threne, 7. God of the world ! the hour must come. And nature's self to dust return ; Her crumbling altars must decay ; Her incense firea shall cease to burn ; 1^1 •J I !.>i COMMON SCHOOL READER. i% But still her grand and lovely scenes Have made man's warmest praises flow ; For hearts grow holier as they trace The beauty of the world below. CHAPTER LXV. The Ai>prentice's JJbrary. 1. Why Frank ; where did you get all these books I One, two, three,— but I'll not count them,— where did you get the money to buy them all ? Why, I have ten dolhus a year more than you have, yet, I have to send to lather almost every month for more money. Are they yours, or did you borrow them ? 'i Here is Gibbon's Rome, — Plutarch's Lives ;— who was Plutarch '?— How many lives had he ? What arc these all about ?— Milton, Dryden, Cowper, Shakspeare, Bacon, Locke, Pollock, Goldsmith and all the other .Smiths in creation, besides those in America. Now come, let me light my Havana and take a smoke while you explain to me how you manage to scrape together, with only forty dollars a year, a library almost as large as the Parsons. :l Sitting down in the proffered chair, and lighting his Havana, Edward Saunders placed his feet upon lii.s friend's clean desk, and seemed really to be waiting for a detailed account of the modus ojH'rcmdi by which ;in apprentice could acquire, honestly, such a collection of valuable books. Nor did Francis Wilson hesitate to gratify his curiosity. Both of the young men were in The middle of their apprenticeship, and the most cordial intimacy had subsisted between them from their youth. 4. Edward was deficient in nothing so much as that economy so necessary for an apprentice in expending his small annuity ; and Francis hit upon a very successful method of administering to his young friend a salutary i^5son upc an appren the cultiv; >i. rA f'xplain to your won( voii a few <('(! you ai vou buy, ; «. " (), ticipating practice ; !o snuoke any thing 7. "Si nniT it do' h(! were ucek, at «iim of si «!i|ipn<:o yi Francis. S, -N« rallier star I buy — ap not amoui !:!! much a ^p^iid.s for '''ranci^!, ) liquor, — r lack ecou !). " Ni li^s," s.iid tlip items, •lif^ precisi ' ninc-pon '"^nts per i I'Hir cents, fnirtean d 10. No, Jt *■ ..r rOMMON SCHOOL E.ADLK. ir,;5 f .>?son upon this subject, while he explained how even in apprentice conid acquire a taste and the means for [he. cultivation of his intellect. i'i. " Edward," said he, taking up his pencil, *' I will ■xplain to you in figures, what seems to h:\\v excited vdiir wonder, if you will jx^rmit nie, by the way, to ask vou a few (juestions, in order to solve the probieni. J. ^'(; you are very fond of smoking ; how manv cigars dt> v(Hi buy, a week ?" G. " (), none of any account," replied Edward, an- ticipating some unpleasant strictures upon his favorite practice ; " after working all day, it is reidly a comfort losinoke one genuine Hamma ; it does not amount to anything; I only smoke six in the course of the whol^i 7. " Six Havanas per week," repeated Francis, put- tinir it down upon paper, with as much ftirnudiiy as if h(! were registering the data of a problem; ""^•^x n week, at two cents apiece, amount to the very triflin^' 'iiiri of six dollars and twenty-four cents per annum. I «!ippn?e you spend atrijle at'the fruit shops," continued Franc if^. K ''Nothing worth mentioning," replied Kdwnrd, r-ulier startled at the aggregate of such little items ; "all I hay — apples, nuts, raisins, hgy, t)riiMges, <^.c., does not amount to nine-pence a week; why, that i^; not lialt li? much as Tom Williams, the goldsmith's apprentice, ^p^nd-j for mint-ju!eps in half that time, aiul besides, Francis, you knou- f never taste n drop of anv kind . '' Nine-])ence a week for nuts, rasins. oranges, and I'vS" said Francis in a low, serious tone, prondunclnr tlip items, one by one, as he wrott; them down, with nil I'tf^ precision and gravity of a clerk in a country Htore ; " nine-pence n week amounts to seven dollars and eighty '';nts j)er annum, which,added to six dollars and twenty- I'Hir cents, spent for cigars, makes the /;v7m?.^'- sum of 'Hirteen dollars and four cents, for one \e;ir. 10, \ )w, Kd'.v.ird, s<'e wiiaf I hn ■(^ oi ;in cd 1 or jiiht » ' ''*?'] 1^ COMMON SCHOOL READKR. this Slim. " Here," i^aid he, taking down several neati; hound voluHie.s of the North American Review, and a handful of those of the Knickerbocker; "1 iiave bouidn all those for a less sum than you have j)aid for cigars, nuts 6oc., during the last year. And as for these other hooks which you see here in my hook-case, 1 will tell you how 1 have obtained th m, and how any other ap- prentice can do the same, with only thirty-six dollars u year, too. II. You know our masters are very industrious and steady men ; and are attentive to their business, and like fo see their workmen so. They prefer also to see them with a book ni their hands, when they have done their work, rather tiiau to be lounirinnf about at the taverll^i or in vicious comj)any. So when my master saw that I liked to read, every chance I got, and spend all the money 1 could spare for books, he olfered to give me nine-j)ence an hour for all the time I would work from twelve o'clock till one. \'2. And that is the way, Edward, that I have bought all these books, wliich you thviHiiht I had borrowed", begged, or stolen. I work every fjoon-time half an hour, and earn enough every fortnight to buy one of these l><)oks — Milton's Paradise Lost, for instance. To be sure, they are not bound in calf, nor are they gilt-edged ; but tiiey contain the same matter as if they were, and that is enough for me." Vi. When Edward Saunders had listened to this very interesting explanation of his uncle's apprentice, and had cast his eye over all the tine books in his little library, he arose* suddenly at the very last words of Fran- cis, and, opening the little chamber window, took out his last liali-dozen cigars, which were to constitute his week's stock of comfort, and without saying a word, tos.sed them into the garden. A new fire of animation lit up his eye, as he left the room, turning only at the *loor to say, " III try it, Frank !" niew, and u COMMON SCHOOL READER. 155 CHAPTER LXVI. Education. I. Tlie culture of the hum;iii mind luis ever been considered Jis one of the most impoitsmt concerns of so- ciety. Hence education, which has for its object, the improvement of the intellectual powers, is a subject uhich demands the serious attention and the most liberal >\i\)\-iort of every individual in the conununity. •I A parent, who is sensible that his child is a ration- i;l beinir, endowed with facuk^.s susceptible of a hi(rh (leirrce of cidtivation, and is likewise conscious that the happiness of the children would, in a great degree, be promoted by the im})rovement of those powers^ would iiamrally bestow much attention to the subject. ;{. Accordingly we find, that from the earliest ages of iliu world, wherever the nieans of education have\een • iijoycd, few have neglected to avail themselves of its :Mlv.;uitages. The Greeks and the Romans, among whom uore produced such prodigies of excellence in everv kind of writing, and in every department of civil and imlitiiry life, were remarkably attentive to the education "f their children ; insomuch that they began their edu- cation almost with their birth. '). In Sparta children were taken from their parents. It a very early period of their age, and educated at the I'libhc expense ; and a celebrated Roman writer advised 'Ikiso parents who destined their children for j)ublic ^poakers, to choose nurses for them, who had a 'rood proiumciation. '^ •>. At the present dny we find no less attention paid '" this momentous subject : although the modes of edu- ' iition, adopted by the moderns, differ in many respects, iroiii those which were i)ractised in ancient times. The ^trictness of dicipline which prevailed among the S])ar. ■^'is, the Romans and the Greeks, has giveirplace to a ^"ilder regimen ; but whether this very strictness, coup- lhI ;is it was with methodical instruction, had not a bene- If . m P rf ; :. (»; It lli ioC ., and in all aires;, much attention. Even thesaviiire tukts tMr'; to in.^truct his child in hunting, fishing, and iIkn. branches of knowhulge which are necessary for him. 7. Frc^ni the ]>rouiotion of this important ^ubject,tLt -reate.-t benefits havi' been derived. The kno\vleti(;i uc juired by one portion oi' the world has been transimt- led to ancllxM-, \vithout distinction of distance or di\i.rM- ty of age. The circle of human enjoyments lias been enlarged, and a uide held has been cpened, where tlir highe.'-t haj)pi!iess of which our nature is suscej)tibli\ :nay be- enj*>yed, independently t)f the common sorroui and misfortunes of life. The eidarjied and enlightened wews it gives of the world, justly entitle it to nuicii uttenlion ; and go very far to supply those inipcrfec- ;l<)us which every one, without it, mu.^t necet.sarily fid vS' L>ut uoihing will sho\<' the advantajresof education ill a stronger light, than a contrast with the disadvan- tages v\luch arise frng pines, and rocked her puny mansion. 3. The last herring smoked upon the coals before her It was the only article of food she posses.scd, and no wonder her forlorn, desolate state brought up in her Icire besom all the anxieties of a mother, w hen she looked upon her children ; and no wonder, forlorn as fche was " she suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise' even though she knew that he, whcpe promise is to the oroei ]s word. v'lA ■^'^r i.inu H.J 111 c crpnan, cannot Providence had many years before taken from iier N ' ik I -i*» tj 158 COMMON SCHOOL REAI)£R. wf^ — - 9^^^ her eldest son, who went from his forest-home, to try his fortune on the high seas, since which she had heard no note or tidinjTS of hini ; and in latter time, had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband. Yet to this hour she liad been upborne ; she had not only been able to provide for her little Hock, but had never lost an opportunity of ministering to the wanU of the miserable and destitute. 5. The indolent may well bear with poverty, while the ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who has but his own wants to supply, may suffer with fortitude the winter of want ; his affecti( iis are not wounded, his heart not wrung. The most desolate iii populous cities may hope, for charity has not cjuite closed her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery, 6. But the industrious mother of \iclpless and depend- ing children — fur from the reach (;t human charity, has none of these to console her. And such an one waa tho widow of the Pine cottnge ; but as she bent over the fire, and took up the last scanty renmant of food, U> spread before her children, her t^pirit seemed to brighten up, ^^ by some sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper's beautiful lines came uncalled across her mind ; — " Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust hirn for his grace ; Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face." T, T);e smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a gentle r.-^p ;it the door, and a loud barking fif the i\vs:, nttnctcd tb.c attention of the finnily. The children Hew to (pen it, and a wc;iry traveller, in tat- tered gnrments, :uul rppiirently in indifferent health, rmtered and begged a lodging, Lnd a meuthiul of food; said lie, " it is now twcnty-fcur hcury since I tasted kead." ^ The widow's heart bled finew hb under a ffcfch COMMON SCHOOL READER. 169 ^*'«#i :-l •omplicatioii ©f distress ; for her sympathies lingered not around her fireside. She hesitated not even now ; rest and a share of all she had, she proffered to the stran- ger. " We shall not be forsaken ;" said she, " or suffer deeper for an act of charity." 9. The traveler drew near the board — but when he saw the scanty fare, he raised his eyes towards Heave* with astonishment,—" and is this all your store ?" said he—" and a sliare of this do you offer to one you know not ? then never saw 1 chantij before ! but madam," faid he, continuing, "do you not wrong your children by giving a part of your last mouthfufto a stranger ?" "Ah," said the poor widow, and the tear drops gushed' into her eyes as she said it, " I have a borj, a darlings m, somewhere on the foce of the wide world, unless Heaven hns taken him away, and I only act towards you, as I would that others should act towards him. 10. God, who sent manna from heaven can provide for us as he did for Isreal— and how should I this night offend him, if my son should be a wanderer, destitute^'aB you, and he should have provided for him a home, evcB poor as this — were I to turn you unrelieved away !" 11. The widow i^m\Q.(\, and the stranger, springing from his seat, clasped her in his arms — " God indeed lias provided your son a home — and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his benefactress— my mother 1 i»li my mother !" 12. Tt was her long lost son ; returned to her bosom from the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he might the more completely surprise his Ifamily ; and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweet- Pf cup of joy. 13. That humble residence in the forest was ex- clianged for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in t'le valley, and the widow lived long with her dutifiiJ p, in the enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the de- '',?htful employments of virtue, and at this day the passer-by is pointed to the willow that spreads its branch- is r,*i -fiii » • - uuui-w iiCr grave. 'ffi a 1 ^" --:^;^ - 100 COMMON SCHOOL RKADKR. CHAPTER LXVIII. The JVobility of l^abor. I. How many natural ties are there between even thf humblest scene of labor, and the noblest affections of humanity ! i» this view, the employment of mere natural •trength'is ennobled. There is a central point in every man's life around which all his toils and cares revolve. It is that spot which is consecrated by the names of wife, and children, and home. A secret, an almost impercep- tible influence from that spot, which is like no other on earth, steals into the breast of the virtuous laboringwnan, and strengthens every weary step of his toil. * 2. Every blow that is struck in the workshop and the field, finds an echo in that holy shrine of his affections. If he who fights to protect his home, rises to the point of heroic virtue ; no less m;\y he who Mors, his life long, to provide for that home. Peace be within Uioso domestic walls, and prosperity beneath those huniblo roofs ! 3. But should it be otherwise ; should the time ever come, when the invader's step approaches to touch those sacred thresholds, I see in the labors that are taken lor them, that wounds will be taken for them too; I see, in every honest workman around me, a hero. 4. So material, do I deem this point— the true nobility of labor, I merin— that I would dwell upon it, a moment longer, and in a larger view. Why, then, in the great Bcale of things, is labor ordained for us? Easily, had it so pleased the great Ordainer, might it have been dis- pensed with. The world itself might have been a Tiiffhty machinery for the production of all that man •vants. The motion of the globe upon its axis, might have been the power to move that world of machinery. 5. Ten thousand wheels, within wheels, might have been at work ; ten thousand processes, more curious and complicated than man can devise, might have been going forward wiiliout man's aid ; houses might have risen like an exhalation, COMMON SCHOOL RKADER. 161 With the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Bailt like ;i temple ; jrorgeoMs furniture might liave been placed in them, and soft couches and luxurious haiujuets, spread by hands unseen ; annt; because the laborer is greater, and more Horihy of honor than the idler. Labor is heaven':* groat orrlinaiice for human improvement. Let not that ^reat ordinance be broken down. What do I say ? li ''' broken down ; and it has hern broken down f')r ages. Let it Ihei be built up again; here, if any where" on these sh:)res of a new world, of a new civilization. 8. Rut h'>w, 1 miy be asked, is it broken down? Do noi iticM t')il ? They do indeed t )il, but they too gen- erally do it because they must. Many subniit to it aa, in some sort, a degrading necessity ; and they desire iitHliin r SI) much on earth as to escape from it. They ful- fil! the greit I iw of labor in the httar, but break it in ipiril ; fuliii it witli the jnuscl, hut break it with the mind. 9. To somp field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten as a chosen and " " N o rated theatre of <<*•» I ''i I mf 168 COMMON SCHOOL READER. improvements ; but so is he not impelled to do under thft teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the comrary, he sits down, fohls his hands, and blesses himsell m his idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage ol the absurd and unjust feudal system ; under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feastinff. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. 10. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of thy dingy work shop and dusty labor-field ; of thy hard hand, scarred with services more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother nature has embroidered, amidst sun and rain, amidst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors ? As^^am- ed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunt- in(r robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? It is treason lo'nature ! Toil, I repeat it,— ^oiV, cither of the braxn of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility. h'^ I '■M CHAPTER LXIX. The Philosopher's Scales. 1. A monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, In the depth of his cell, with its stone-covered floor. Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, He farmed the contrivance we now shall explain. In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, And ere 't was complete he was wrinkled and gray ; But success is secure, unless energy fails, Aivl at len gth he produced The Philosopher's Scah 2. What m'.rc iha/ ? you usk : you shall presently see, These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea; (\ .,.^ ff.,r g,ich properties wondrous had they^ COMMON SCHOOL RfiAOfiR. I0S That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh ; Togetlier with articles small and immense, From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense. Nought was there so hulky but there it could lay. And nought so ethereal, but there it would stay ; And nought so reluctant, but in it must go — All which some examples more clearly will t^ho^r. 3. The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire. Which retained all the wit that had ever been there ; As a weight, he threw in the torn scraps of a leaf. Containing the prayer of the penitent thief, When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell. As to bound like a ball on the roof of his cell. 4. One time he put in Alexander the Great, And a garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight :. And thoufTh clad in armor from sandals to crown. The hero rose up, and the garment went down, 5. A long row of alms-houses, amply endowed By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, Next loaded one scale, while the other was pressed By those mites the poor widow threw into tlie chest ; Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, And down, down the farthing's worth came with a bounce. C. Again he performed an experiment rare ; A monk, with austerities bleeding and bare, Climbed into his scale — in the other was laid The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed ; When he found, with surprise, that the whole of hi» brother m\ :|i| I- ^ «* mm-y-,^ 104 COMMON SCHOOL READER. Weighed less by some pjundj thm this bit of th« otlior. 7. By otlier expiM-iinents, (no matter' how,) He foiUK] that ten cliariotsweiglied less than a plough, A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scale, Though balanced by (-nly a tenpenny nail. A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear. f». Yet not n^ountains of silver and gold would suffice One pearl to outweigh; 'twas the pearl of great price. Last of all, the wliole world was bowl'd in at the ffratc With the soul of a !;eggar to serve for a weight; When the scnle with the soul so mightily fell, That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. 111 • ft) CIIAPTEll LXX. 1. I asked the stars, in the pomp of night, Gilding its blackness with crowns of liiiht, Bright with beauty, and girt with power, Whether eternity vv'cre not their dower ; And dirge-like music stole from their .spheres, , Bearing this message to mortal cars : — 2. •' We have no light that hath not been given; We have no strength but shall soon be riven; We have no power whereiti man may trust : Like him are we things of time and dust; And the lc;roiid we blazon with beam and ray, And the song t>f our silence is, — ' Passinfr away.' COMMON SCHOOL ttRADER. 165 5, t '-We shall lade in our beauty, the fair and bright, Like lamps that have served for a festal night ; We shall fall from our spheres, the old and strong. ■ Like rose-leaves, swept by the breeze along ; The worshipped as gods in the olden day, ° We shall be like a vain dream— 'Passing away. ' . From the stars of heaven, and the flowers of earth. From the pagents of power, and the voice of mirth, From the mists of morn on the mountain's brow. From chiidliood's song, and afTection's vow,— From all, save that o'er which the soul bears f-v, r. Breathes but one record—" Passing away." " Passing away," sing the breeze and rill, As they sweep in their course by vale and hill : Through the varying scene of each earthly ciinu\ 'T is the lesson of nature, the voice of time ; And man at last, like his father (rrav V\ rites m his own dust—*' Passing away. " CHAPTER LXXL 1 houghfiii or IBcaveifi. I. Thoughts of heaven ! they come when low The summer-eve's breeze doth faintly blow : When the mighty sea shines clear, unstirred By the wavering tide, or dipping biid : They come in the rush of the surging storm, When the blackening waves rear their giant form- When o'er the dark rocks curl the breakers white, And the terrible lightnings rend the nijrht— When the noble shin hatl With the tempest's m h vainlv striven ight, come thoughts of hftuv .i-i c«. I ^■|f;: . ■:;;! .J- im COMMON SCIIor RKADKR- l > '2. They come where man doth not intrude, In the untracked forest's solitude ; In the stilhiess of the gray rocks' heiglit, Whence the lonoly eagle takes his flight ; On peaks, where lie the eternal snows ; In the suu-briglit isle, 'mid its rich repose ; In the healthy glen, by the dark, clear lake, • Where the fair swan sails from her silent brake ; Where nature reigns in her deepest rest, Pure thoughts of heaven come unrepresseiL 3. They come as we gaze on the midnight sky, When the star-gennned vault looks dark and high. And the soul, on the wins:s of thought sublime, Soars on the dim world and the bounds of time, Till the mental eye becomes unsealed, And the mystery of being in light revealed : They rise in the gothic chapel dim, When slowly bursts forth the holy hymn. And the orn-nn's rich tones swell full and high, Till the roof peals back the melody. 4. Thoughts of heaven ! from his joy beguiled, They come to the bright-eyed, sinless child ; To the man of age, in his dim decay, Bringing hope his youth has not borne away ; To the wo-smit soul in its dark distress, As llowers spring up in the wildernesa ; And in silent chiunbers of the dead, When the mourner goes with soundless lr*ad,; For as the day-beams freely fall. Pure thoughts of heaven arc sent lo all. eOMMON SCHOOL EADER, j67 CHAPTER LXIV. TSie two ISohlici'si. nnf.SE.^Alcxandcr the Great in his tent. Guards. A man with a Jicrce countenance, chained and fettend, brought before him. Alex. What, art tlioii the Thracinn Robber, of whose exploits I have hourd so much ? Rob. I am a Thracian and a soldier. A. A soldier ?— a thiol", a plunderer, an assassin ! the pest of the country ! I could iionor thy courage, but I must detest and punish thy crimes. R. What have I done, of which yon can complain ? .4. Hast thou not set at deliin.e my authority ; vio- lated the public peace, and passed thy life in injurino- the persons and properties of tliy fellow-subjects ? R. .Alexander ! I am your captive — 1 must hear what yoti please to say, and endure what you })loase to inflict. But my soul is unconcpiered ; and if 1 reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. .4. Speak freely. Far bo it froin me to take the ■'.dvantago of my power to silence those ^ with wliom I ^^\2,\\ to converse ! R. I must then answer your question by anotiier. How have you passed your life ? A. J.iko a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. Amoiiir tlio {)ravo, I have been tlie bravest : among sovereigns, the noblest : among conquerers, the mi(Thti- ost. ^ ^ R- And does not fame speak of me, too ? Wan there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band! Was there ever — but 1 acorn to boast. You yourself l^now that I have not been easily subdued. A. Still what are you but a robber — a base dishon- est robber ? -■■• Aiiu what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, bout the earth; like an evil genius, blasting the its of peace and industry : — plundering, ravaging, i: I fiiir Wm- ics COMMON SCHOOL READER. killing; without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion 1 All that I have done lo a single district, with a hundred followers, you havo done to*whole nations with a hundred thousand. If I havo stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have deso- lated the most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is then tlie difference, but that, as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mighter robber than II A. But if 1 have taken like a king, I have given like u king. If I have subverted empires, 1 have founded frreater. I have cherished arts, conuuerce, and philoiso- phy. li. : 1. too, have freely given to the poor, what I took from the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most ferocious of mankind ; and have stretch- ed out my protecting arm over tiie oppressed. I know indeed, little of the philolsophy you talk of; but I k^ lieve neither you nor 1 shall ever repay to the world the mischiefs we have done it. A. Leave me — Take ott' his chains, and use him well {Ent rohbcr.) — Are we then so much alike?— Alexander to a robber ? — Let me reflect. — CHAPTER LXXII, Rural Liic in irn^lniid. L The taste of the English in the cultivation of the 'land, and in what is termed landscape gardening, is un- rivalled. Nothing can be more imposing than their park scenery. But what most delights me is the crea- tive talent with which the English decorate the unosten- tatious abodes of middle life. The rudest habitation, the most ttriproriiisi!!"^ otkI scanty portion of land* in the hands of an Englishman of taste, b'eccmes a little para- dise The residence of people of fortune and refin©- ment in t elegance class. 2. The narrow s The trim flower-be ed UD aor; the lattice provident its drearii chv er the taste, flov the lowes poets sin cottage o 3. The classes, h; ler. I d€ glish gem which ch they ex hi ness of f am inclin open air, reations o 4. The rural occ country, be mono but it is and pahu h does n^ rather in ed quiet, cottage is winding, eye is del «capes of 5. Th( COMMON SCHOOL READER. ie9 *^. r to gratify have done , you have and. If I kings and have de6(> ies of the at, as you have been ! given like le founded nd philoBO- vhat I took discipline ive stretch- 1, I know ; but I bt'- e world tho id use him h alike?— tion of the ling, is un- than their s the crea- iic uncsten- habitation, land J in the • little para- and Tc6iaer ment in the country, has diffused a degree of taste and elegance in rural economy, that descends to the lowest class. 2. The very laborer, with his thatched cottage and narrow slip of ground, attends to their embellishment. The trim iiedge, the grass plat before the door, the little flower-bed bordered with a ynug box, the woodbine train- ed up against the wall, and h;inging its blossoms about the lattice ; the pot of flowers in the window ; the holly, providentially planted about the house to cheat winter of its dreariness, and throw in a gleam of green summer to ch. er the fireside ; all these bespeak the influence of taste, flowing down from high sources, and pervading the lowest level of the public mind. If ever lover, at poets sing, delights to visit a cottage, it must be the cottage of an Eiiglish peasant. 3. The proneness to rural life, among the higher classes, has had a salutary effect upon the national charac^ ler. I do not know a finer race of men than the E»- glish gentlemen. Instead of the softness and effeminacy which characterize the men of rank in some countries, they exhibit a union of elegance and strength, a robust^ ness of frame, and freshness of complexion, which I am inclined to attribute to their living so much in th^ open air, and pursuing so eagerly the invigorating rec- reations of the country. 4. The effect of this devotion of elegant minds to rural occupations, has been wonderful on the face cf the country. A great part of the island is level, and wculd be monotonous, were it not for the charms of culture; but it is studded and gemmed, as it were, with castle* and palaces, and embroidered with parks end gardens. It does not abound in grand and sublime prospects, but rather in little home ticcnes of rural repose and shelter- ed quiet. Every antique farm-house and mess-grown cottage is a picture ; and as the roads are continually winding, and tlie view shut in by groves and hedges, the eye is delighted by n confiiv.iol succession cf sinaL* land- «capes of captivating lovliness. 5. The great charm, however, of Englisli scenery is -v.»|if: 170 COMMON srilOOI. UKADP.n if * I. rl.p moral feelings that seems to pervade it. Tt ih as.«.o. riatcd in the inind with i(U>as of order, oi (luiet, oi cahr, and settled principles, of hoary usage, and reverend custom. ,, , 1 6 It is a pleasincr si parent of the steadiest virtues and purest enjoyments, '' Oh friendly to the best pursuits of man, Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, Domestic life in rural pleasures passed 1" CHAPTER LXXIII. UlnU to the Studious. I /vnoWff/A'-r is not necessarily w'/5. I iiy _by liave rai'.;o:ul.s, canals, bridges, and ships, to my tuel. 1 have editors and nrinters to inform ">e of what is goi..., _ ...,, .,„ ,,,^ ^*>olJs, the wonder of all wonders, that inters worl ng on over ail the world. I have 1 r.f oil I .1 - .; \ O 2 , that carry me to all V-'fl L: :.ii i; 174 COMMON SCUOOL READER. ''I , places and to all tiirc^?', nnd oii!il)Ie me to canverflo with many of tho wis^f,; niii the best of men, both of my own aore, and of all past ajres.' IG. It is a yubjoct of honest conirratnhuion to men of your situation in life, that to the hii)ours of such as your- self, — to their inventive j)o\vers in innnherless in!>t;inces, and to their powers of cxecntio?i ii\ ali, — the national greatness in the progress of arts is chielly owin;r. 17 Read poetry ; for, as iniairination is the com- mon j)rt)perty of man, belontrintr equ;illy to all ranks, no valid reason can be eiven, why its pleasures should bo denied to any. It has pleased Him, from whose Spirit the sacred writings came, to present to us cont.iderablc portions of them in tlie most vivid style of poetry. This delightful art, thus consecrated, should, iu^wever, l)c used for no purpose but to instruct, to elevate, and fa soothe the soul of man. It has been lamentably pervert- ed to far other purposes, to abuse the mind witli false and dangerous sentiments, to debase and to inilame. 18. Read poetry, therefore, with icscrve and caution ' It is a luxury, and not a necessary : and hence a little of superior growth, may well content us,' as a sensible writer has remarked, lie wh.o begins hii? poetic read- ing with the delightfti! pages of Thomson, which relied the image of that Nature their author so warnily loved; of Cowpcr. who he;ird every where ' the loud hosaiuiah pent ircm all Gtul's wcnks;' of Milton, who, with the most vigor* us genius, and the most fearless ind(peii- dence of natural disposition, soared beyond the bounds of time and sp:'.ce, with the cxpre-vs design of ' justilji- ing the way^ ( f Gcd to man ;' — he who thus begins his pcetic readinir, v ;!! have acquired a taste that will not easily descend to vitiate itself with wlrit is mean in com- position, or ]>o}lutl;ig in tendency. 19. Read the evivetenders to knowledge, there is a cherislieil disbelief of the divine autr.ority of the Holy Script'.: !T;^. On this peint I will make only two observati* ns — llia.t no man can deserve the charac- ter of an honest man, who rejects the Holy S':ripture» *** ; COMMON SCHOOL READER. u 17^ without having attentively reiicl the collected proofs of their divine authority ;— and thumo adopt the maxim ol a poet, ' Wliat none cnn jmu^r a forgery, 7nni/ be true; What none but bad men wish exploded, must/ J: ). Should any young man be ready to say—' Thii will he too much for mo-I cnii never f ,c and streu;^! !)eu the montal pow(n-s. Let modesty h'on.l.ty, and a deq> seuM' of the highest. dutie8 and obhgations, .cc^mpiuy this; :md th. individual thui occupied, will be under that training, which ensured he largest measure of true hapines. here, with nrogreai. towards a nobler state of existence. #HAPTE!l LXXIV, 1. We find m-m, place.' m a worhl, where he has bv no niea: the disp..al ct (lu^ ev.uts that h: pen cl l^mitics sometimes befall the worthiest and the best wluchit isnotin their power to prevent, and xvlwm nothing Ks left them, but to acknowledge, and to sutT -tt. the high hand of Heaven. Frc,m such visitation. 01 trial many good and wise reasons can be assicrned which the present subject leads me not to .h.r,... ^ ' Ji f"\f''""S»>/^'*^^^^' unavoidable calamities make a par ,>et they make not a diief part of the vexatu sand rows that distress human life. A multitude ot evil* b^set u. for the source of which we must lock to ajl • : 4 t :;-|| .;>;|| Ais^ ):e COMMON SCHOOL UKAUKR. otiier qiiirtrr. — No sooner has any tiling in the health, or in the circninstanccs of man, gone cross to their Nvish, than they begin to talk of tin' nne(jui;l distribution of the L^ood tliiniis of this life: they envy the condition v\' others; they rejjine at their own lot, and i'ret against the Ktder of the world. 'I. Kull of these seiitinients, one man pines under a broken <:onstitution. IJut let us ask him, whether he can, fairly and honestly, ;issign no cause for this, but the unknown decree of heaven '? Has he duly valued the blessing of health, and always observed the rules of virtue and sobriety ? J las he been moderate in his life, and temperate in all his pleasures? If now he is only paying the })rice of his former, perhaps his forgotten in- dulgences, has he any title to complain, as if he were sutlering unjustly ? 4. Were we to survey the chambers of sickness and distress, we should often fnid them i)eopled with tiie victnns of intemperance and sensuality, and with the r.hildren of vice, indolence and sloth. Anions the thousands who languish there, we should lind the pnv portion of innocent suilerers to be small. We should see faded youtli, premature old age, and the prospect of an untimely grave, to be the portion of nndtitudes, who, in one way or other, have brought those evils on them- selves ; wliile yet the.se mysteries of vice and folly have the assurance t*) arraign the hard fate of man, and to " iret against the Lord." ii. But you, perhai)s, complain of hardships of an- other kind : of the injustice of the world ; of the poverty which you suffer, and the discouragements under which you labor : t)f the crosses and disappointments, of which your life has been doomed to be full. — Before you give too much scope to your discontent, let me desire you to refl'-Ct im])artially upon your past train of life. (I. Have not sloth, or pride, or ill temper, or sinful passions, misled you often from the path of sound and wise Conduct ? I lave you not been wanting to yourselves in improving those opportunities which Providence of- fered you. for bettering and advancing your state'? If M COMMON SCHOOL READER. ITT rZ^'^ ?^''" '" *"'!"'"" >■""*■ ^"'"^^ or your taste, m the gra .fications of indolence or pleasure, can you omp a.u because others, iu preference to you. have ob- ained those advantages which naturally belong to useful lab()urs, and honorable pursuits? 7 Have not the consequences of some false step in- you pursued you thorugh mucii of your life tainted perhaps your characters, uivolved you in embarrassments or sunk you into neglect ?-lt is an old saying that w3 '"j;V '^^ ^'- .-tf - or his own fortuLin the world It .s certain, that the world seldom turns wholly gamst a man unless through his own fault. " Relicr,on IS, ni general, '• profitable unto all thinas " temnp; '?'.' ^'"'pnce, and industry, joined with good empor, and prudence, have ever been found the surest road to prosperity ; and where men fail of attainin.. ,t, ^d^'V 1 r'^'u ■' ^''' ^^^^"^^ ^^^'"^? '- their hav. ing devKi ed trom that road, than to their having en- ^r f d, forfeit the reputation of probity. Some, bj bo inj too open are accounted to fail in prudence. Others by^bemg hckle and ciiangeablc, are distrusted by all ' - I he case commonly is. that men seek to ascribe ttieir disappointments to any cause rather than their own mrsconduct ; and when they can devise no other ausc they ay them to the charge of Providence. Their oly leads them into vices ; their vices into misfortune; and m Uieir misfortunes they - murmur against Provil InllL-'^''''^ are doubly unjust towards their Creator, n leir prosperity, they are apt to ascribe their success their ow-ii diligence, rather than to his l>]es..ing : and 1 heir adversity, they impute their distresses^o hi» P ovidence, not to their own misbehaviour. Whereas, t'le truth IS the very reverse of this. - Every aood and very perfect gift, cometh from above;" and'of evU ^nd 11. When, from the condition of individuals, we look , ..^.„ u„t t^viuuiuou oi inai abroad to the public state of the world we meet with I I7K COMMON SCHOOL RKADKR. jii',U iriorc proofs of the (ruth of this .-isscrtion. We sen irreiit societies of nicii, torn in j)i('C(>s by intestine disseutions, tiuniihs, ;ni(l civil coiniiiotioiis. We see iiiiifhty iirniics LfoiiiU forth, ill formidiibk' array, aiijainst eacli other, tu <'over the earth with hhxul, and to fill the air with the cries of wi(h)ws and orplians. Sad evils these are, to which this miserahU^ w»)rhl is exposed. \'2. IJut are th(>se eVils, I beseecli you, to he imputed to (rod I Was it lie who sent forth slaiiirhteriiiir ariiuci* into the field, or who tilled tlu; p(!aceful city with niasu- cres and blood I Ar(> these miseries any other than the bitter fruit of men's violent and disorderly ])assiuiis? Ar(^ they not clearly to be traced to the ambition, and vices ol" princes, to the (juarrels of the <^reat and to the iturbulence of the ))eople I — Let us lay them entirely out of the acu'.onni, in tlui.king of Providence; and let us think only oi' the " looiishness of man." M5. Did man control his passions, and lorm his con- duct acccrdino' to the dictates of wisdom, huiuaiiity, and virtue, the earth w'ould no Iono;er he desolatcMl by cruelty : and hunuui societies would live in order, har- mony, and j)eace. in those scenes of mischief and violence which fill the world, let man behold, with bliaino, the picture of his vices, his ignorance, and folly, hct him be humbled by \\\v mortifying vi(>w of his own perverse!iess : but let n(?t his " heart fret against the Lord." Si ..-I-'. ClIAPrKIl LXXV. Tliy ivill hv iloiie. L Thy will bo done ! Ikwv hard a thing to say When sicknuss ushers in death's dreary knell, When eyes that sparkled bright and gay, Wander around with dimly conscious ray, To some familiar face, to bill farewell ! COMMOiH K(;H0()L liKADKR, 179 •], Til y will he done ! the fait <^riii(r hpsdeny A ))assn(re to the tones as yet unheard ; The so!) convulsed, the raised and swinnning eyr- Seem as ..ppealinir to their (iod on hijrh For power to hreathe tiie yet imperfect word. {. Orphan ! who watehest hy the silent tond), Where those who irave thy life all coldly sleep; Or thou who sittest in thy desolate honui, Call intr to those heloved who'cainiot coi ne And thinking o'er thy loneliness, dust weej) 1 Widow ! who nmsest over hy-gone years Of lil Wl (', and love 11( and 1 ia|>j)iness with him 10 sharcMl thy joys and sorrows, hojxis and fears Who now rat left to shed unnoticed te ars. Till thy fair cheek is wan, and eyes grow dim •>. Husband ! who dreaniest of thy L'entlc wife And still in fancy sec'st her rosy smile Rriohteriing a world of hitterness and strife ; WIk) I rom the lonely future of thy lift Turnest. in dreariness, to weep the while! •>, Motlier ! whose prayers could not avail to save Ilim whom thou lovedst most, thy hluc-eyed boy Who, with a hitter agony dost rave To the wild winds that fan his early grave, And dashedst from thy lips the cup of joy ! And thou, not widowed, yet bereaved one, 'rVho, buried in thy tearless, imite despair, toamest a desert world alone — aL one *' seek him out who from thine eye is goin*. ':wce able to believe he is not there ! ^1 i -^ Ail f. ■ ('■■;," Kfii ^i, 180 COMMON SCHOOL READRK. 8. Mourners! who linirer in a world of wo, E;icli howiusT neatli liis separate load of grief. Turn from the ssileiit toinb, kneeling low Before that throne at which tiie angels bow. Invoke a God of mercy for relief! 9. Pray that ye too may journey, when yer die. To that far world where hlei^.sed souls are gone, And, through the jrathering sob of agony, Raise, with a voice resigned, the hund)le crj, " Father — Creator — Lord — thy will be done I" CHAPTIvR LXXVI. Victoria oiH^iiiii^ the Farliament of flS-ll. I. There was a scene of pomp. The ancient hall, Where Briton's highest in their wisdom met, Showed proud array cf neble and of peer, Prelale and judge, each in his litting rrbes Of rank ami power. And beauty lent her charms, For, with plumed brows, the island peeretfcs Bore themselves nobly. Distant realms were there In embassy, from the far, jewelled East, To that which greeidy meets tlie setting sun, My own young native land. 1. Long was the pause Of expectation. Then the cannon spake, The trumpets Hc^nirished bravely, and the throw Of old Plantogenei, that stood so firm, <:(*MM()N .sfllOOL lliiAUCK. l^{ ii \ Wl.ile y(..:,r.s, ,,.(1 bla.ls, and curtluiuakc-shork. dissoJvoil Thelinkc, .entle, yet selUpo.^c.s^d ^iHMnet.i.er.xedga.eoi- the earnest thron.' ;Vann,n.r her elose. And . I remembered uS 1 was said tliat tears o'.'rilowed her eheek VVI.eu «umnu>ned (irst. l-or curen of state, to vn-ld Her .rjrlhood's joys. In Jier fair liand she liehl A .-('roll, and, with a elear and silver tone Ol wondrous mehulv,«h'scanted free Of n>rd.n clinu-s, uhere Albion's ships hn,I borne HuMr thun.lers, and of those whoduelt at peace n prosperous co.nn.erce, and of son.e wlu> frowned Jfi latent anger, marinnrinir notes of war IJntd the Britisli lion cleared his brow To meditate between tiieni, with a branch or ohvv m his paw. * 'Twas stranjre to me, I o hear .<, younmv< The power of purliuiiieiit, tlie crt)vvn :uh>rne( i A niai den' hrovv hut now ihnl vow had [jJisj^ed VVhicli Deiilh ahme can l)r('ak, and a new .siuil Canieioilh t«» witness it. A lid l)y the seed Of those most s tronjr atfections, ilropped by Heaven In a rich soil, I knew there was a uerm That fain would have «lis(dosed itself in sound, If unsupprest. Thnuiih her transport nt br( w X could discern that word, dose wrapped in love, And dearer thi'.n all lv<.\al paiieantry. 6. Thy h(ih<\ yonng mother ! Thy sweet, first horu bal)e : That was the word. And yet she spake it not, But rose, and leanino on her consort's arm, Passed forth. And, as the gorgeous car of stute, By noble coursers borne exullinoly, Drt w near, the people's acclamations rose »,* u(\, and re'ech(>.ed widel} to the sky. Lt no may their loyalty and love be thine, Daunhter v\' many kings !— and tluu the right Of |)eaMant as oi' prince nuuntain, and heed The cry of lowl; poverty, as one Who must account to Cod ! ry So, unto Ilim, From many a (piiet fireside of thy realm, At the still hour of ))rayer thy name shall rise, Blent with that ntmie which thou didst leave unsaid, And blessin* which shall last when sceptics fall, And crowns are dust, be tenderly invoked On the young Sovcreij'n and her cradled bale. COMMON SCHOOL llEAOKR. IK{ CHAMTKtl LXXVII. 1. Toil on ! toil on ! yo ephemeral tr.iin, Wlu) build in the tossin^r and treacherous Uiuin ; Toil on, lor the vvisdnu of man ye mock VV ith your sand-based structures and domes of rock ; Your coluiims the fithondess fountains lave. And your arches spring up through the crested wavi>. Ye 're a puny race, thus to boldly rear A fabric so vast, in a realm so drear. t Ye bind the deep with your secret zone, The ocean is sealed, and the surge a stone ; Fresh wreaths from the coral pavements s{)ring, Like \\n\ terraced pride of Assyria's king ; The turf Jooks green where the breakers rolled. O'er the whirlpool, ripens the rind of gold ; The; sea-snatched isle is the home of men, And mountains exult where the wave hath been. ■i Rut why do ye plant 'neath the billows dark The wrecking n^ei' for the gallant bark ? There are snares enough on the tented field, 'Mid the blossomed sweats that the valleys yield : There are serpents to coil ere the flowers are up. There 's a poison-drop in man's purest cup, There are foes that watch tor his cradle-breath, And why need ye sow the IIo'hIs with death ? 4. With mouldering bones the ieep is white, From the ice-clad pole to the tropics bright ; The mermaid hath twisted her lingers cold, ^Vith the mesh of the sea-boy's curls of gold, COMMON SCHOOL RKADKR. And the o-ods of ocean have frowned to see The mariner's bed 'mid their halls of glee. Ilath earth no graves, that ye thus nmst spread The boundless sea with the thronging dead? r?. Ye build ! yo, build ! but ye enter not in ; Like the tribes wlioni the desert devoured in their aiu, From the land of promise, ye fade and die, Kre its verdure gleams forth on your wearied eye, As the cloud-crowned pyramids' founders sleep, iVoteless and lost in oblivion deep; Ye sluuiher unmarked 'mid the desolate main, Vyiiile the wonder and pride of your works remain. CHAPTini LXXVIIT. TIae lEi-raSd. I. Light to the world ! and a Herald went forth, Connnissioned by Heaven to compass the earth , He sped o'er the mountains, he traversed the seas. Unchanged as the rock, untired as the breeze ; The sand-withered deserts in safety he passed, Nor trembled at robber, nor shrunk from the blast : Where'er rose man's dwelling 'mid sunshine or snow^. On his errand of mercy, unfaltering he goes. •2. The slave hears his tidings, and smiles in his chain. The lost son he sends to his Father again, — No cell ia too narrow for him to find room, He .seeks the pale felon ere borne to his doom, Like the angel of Hope, by his side will he stay, ARd sootiio his dee}) anguish, and teach him to pray COMMON SCHOOL READER. 186 —The worn and the weary on him may repose, And he brings to the mourner a balm for her woea! 3. All ages, all stations, to him are the same, Ho flatters no party, he bows to no name, But truth, to the hi Methinks it spoke in peaceful, heavenly strains. More than the heart of man can e'er conceive Methinks it breathed of love, a love too holy And God-like for this poor and sinful world. Aye, ofazinfr on its lines of matchless arace '^: I ■,\'\ 183 COMMON SCHOOL KIHADER. I felt far more tliiin mdrlnl ; in that bow I saw the iiiMiie of a (mkI in wlioin I Jived, ;:jid innved, and liiul my being loo. 7. A sifMiet 1 behold, in wisdom iijiven T») sinners low, th ii ne'er ajfain he'll strike With justice due, his disobedient lloek. Methiidvs in th:;t broad isreh of varietl hue, Minjijlinfjf its tints so sweetly, s(» divine, It breathed of jnstiie, n(d)leness, aiul lovo, Combined in tl;;'.t alI-gU»rious centre — God. I ( HAl'TlUl LXXX. 1. In the city of liath, during' the last eentni , , lived a barber, who made a i)racliee of followinii his ordinary occupatiiui on the liord's d;iy. As be was |)nrsninj)loyment, lu> hapened to look into scunc place of worship, just as the minister was ^^iving out his text, " Uemember the sabbath day, to keej) it holy." '2. lie listened lonii; enouirji to be convinced thai ho was constantly breakinijr (he laws ol" (Jed and n)an, ()y phaviuir and dressiniJt his customers on the L<.rd's day. He became uneasy, and went with a heavy heart to his eabbatb task. At,len,(rth he took ctnu'age, and cpened his mind to the minister, who advised him to give up sab- bath dressinnr, and wc^rship (led. ;J. lie replied, benfsjfary wiudd be the conte(jnence. Ho had a llonrisbiuir trade, but it wc.uld almt st lie lest At length, after nnuiy a sleei)less niiiht spent in weeping and prayin»i:, h(^ was deternuiied to cast all his care upon God, as the more he reflected the more his duty became apparent. 4. He discontinued sabl)ath (ircssinjr, went constantly %* * rOMMfW JiCUOoL KltADlit, 18tt iry, lived ordinary s\iiii. ">. OiH'. Saturday ev(uin<,r, between liirhl and ;' irk, a strauL^n-r from oni> of tli* <-,oaclics, askinii- for a barber, was directed by the ostler, to the cellar npposile. Com- mit in hastily, he recpiesU'd to be sh;i [uickly, while they changed hors(>s, u.^i liv did nut likr lo violate the Sdhhntli This was touchinjj; the barber on a f'uder (•liord. — lie burst into Wwva — asketl the slraunfer to lend liini a b dr-j)enny to buy a (handle, ay it was ft I' dit ciiouir. lo shave biin with .safely. i\. Ue did so, revo'vin j> V %. Oy^ w Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ •^ 1.'*^ \^^ r-^N kind may ho ajiplied tt, all tlu> rei)ut..'.ion derived from civil accomplishmculs . iVoru thereliiuM! politics of the statesnum, or the literarv etlorts of iirnius and erudition. These hesttiw, an.. Within cert';iiii hound.s ouuht, to bestow, emnuMice and (iisfinction on men. 'J'hey di.M'over talents winch iv. themselves are shininir; and which become hii>hly valu- able, when (■mi>loved inadvanciuuthe uot The statesman, the orator, or the v>^dventitious circumstances or fortune; not to any siu- ale sparkliiur (piality; but to the vvliole ol what lorin^ a man ; what entitles him, as such, to rank luind governed by the principles of uniionii rectitude and intejrritv ; the same in prosperity ami ad- versiiv: which no'bribe can seduce, nor terror overawe neither by pleasure melted into elVemnuicy, nor by di^- rres,. sunk into dejecticm : suchis the mind which lornib the distinction and eminence of man. ,^ One who, in no situatic^i of life, is either asliani- M;i or afraid of discharjrinir his duty, and acting h.spre- nor y-yf u lib firmncss and constancy; true to the Oou roMMON SCHOOL RFADEU. lao wlioin lie \vorslii|)s, and truoto tiic, f;iith in wliicli lie pri)- tbsscs to believe: lull of ritVectioii to liis hretlireii ol mankind; raitliliil to his friends, jreneroiis to his ene- !iii(>s, warm with (•(>iii[)assion to tlie unli^rt.inate ; self- dcnyino- to little private interests and pleasures, but zeal- ous for pul)lic inter(!st and h ipj)in(!ss ; niaiLrnanimonw, without bcinir |)r<»ud : humble, without beiu^- in(;au : jast, without Ixmuit harsh , simple in his maimers, but laaiily in his fe(!liii(rs: on whose word we can entirely rely; wiiose eounten nice never (hu'cives us ; whose pro- fessions of kindness are the elfusions of his heart: one, III line, wliMjii, independently of any views of advan- i!i lra(l(\ or the Imsuioss of nci\ •T wealth, capital is the iiu>aiis or iiislrmiicut <)f aciiin- Illation, and is li(Ml to flu- nv\ or proiicrlv on hand, not riM|niriMl to Uv ronsnni- hut which wc cuii use or riition and accnm luo vd lor iinincdiatc s\i1)sis1(mic(' api ily lor tlu> pnrposcsof htMrcuni ind, and which, under favorahle circiMnstan- nd cidtnre, wdl n\nlli[)ly aiui ces of sitnation, season, a retnrn to ns very o lUMi ainindred «>r a thonsand Tohi, is cap I ital. 1 n a conunercia the wants of iniiiu vest in sjfoods oi' ai possession, ui can se I view, capital is j)roperty boyoiid diate sihsistence, which yon can in- {ich^s of trade, and hold ihein in your itil nndi'r lavorahle circnnistances, you II or oxchaniA-e, :;nd n^alize the prolits ot'snch ad fare, ('apital, in short, is money ven re;KM"veti on hand. or tile l)r>)'ii.; o r lormer labor, and specnlation, or trade, which von can iist> lor olhiM- and I'nrther i)nrpoM' of trade and ac -nmu latiou, and he aide to wait itr. re- turn'- (i. But tiier^ mm ai'v.iev 'iVerv means oi a ■.cnie.ii 1 at ion should l)e i'(n\- ideVcnl as s;, iniu-h capital. TluMe is another airent in tre.le ol" eijual power, as a mea!i> ( m i.jc and that is ir i( )[' accmnuiation, a*; ///. This is ot'teti even far bettor tl\ VI :' m aiu d capi! This will (Miable von, a; it, t > c.i;n n ill were .1 ihe m;mied capital ei" otlier men, as \\ it t for vonr beneiit nid theirs: vini(' own. Tim t> use i ani wiiere it. i; •ha leter, wh'.'di form the only jnst ami sn ionm hit ion o iT'l. :^m*C ti I a, lit.- nivi me!v ti'Kf'i, honor, hidit.-^h-i/, Jri,-i^(i lith ■<.('■ I miccju n'opru ■>( V as the instrument oi accninui:i' ilu^ lieape;] up tiieiisaads wiiicli lay iii the co: fevs of t!io mc:st alihient. 8. Every tl!iu;r in relation to matter? o f trade an< I tho pur.-re DOV red .vecnri tent h h oih(>r capital besides land er 9 pn >pe th< away other his »)\ cissiti lar as vou on^Iit to desire ■ v n iro posse based a>)on tiie substantial ipialitiesof ■ biisini !;fi^^ — it may be used wilheiiiial ■ wre iradin c.itDil tia:^ camio h:-id COMMON .SCHOOL KEADEli. ii^J :a(]i\ :in it yoimur man of wlioin uc liavo spok- ranco into life, (Mil In* said of tlii ffi, tlioiijrij ho has iio money at his cnl that hu has no capital ; or rather, let us see wiiat re (iers him an ohject ot' comnassion. 1). lie lias vonth, health'and ahilitv. Tl hie him to lahor, and lal)(>r will command its rcvvar( has habits of iVnirality, which will lead him to expend (■arehdly, and lay n|) the sin-plns waires of labor ,_that IK, the sinplns Ix'yomI his immediati' i It), lie has till' elements of lecessitw^s. a jroorl ednciition i'lirnishes him the nuN'nsof ae(|uirinij; more knowledaukniptey. The passion for spectllat f aocninuhi- ■ lradin«jf, and o.xtraordinavy ijfains, to which tl ; in ihe co'" n- icsc all ena- i. Jl< this lis irivos Inm an immense advanfatie, and puts it in his j)ower t(^ apply his labor and faculties with tar more advaiUane Mid profit than he ooiild without it. 11. H(> is not the slave of any bad li;i!)its; his (rains therefore are not ins(Misibly creepinir away froinliini. Al)ovo all, lie has (rood charaeler; this will jrive him credit. Habits of indiisiry, frugality, ;:nd exactness, will serairo, establisii, and increase his credit to all the ex- f^ive him tiie (-(iminand (d"the [)ital toiit he sjiould desiri Ml d IS c nital -ca property of otliers. All this, then, of l!i(' best kind. A |)iirely moniiul c;;])ital may pass away from him by a thousand C(Milin;vencies ; but this other capital, wliicli I call a moral, rap'itai, is under his own control, secure from all the fluctu;it ions Hid VI- cissitudes of tr:,ide and business, inid luver can be tak on frtan him witiieait his own consent. S'3. For a youu'r man to be placed at once in tl possession o'{ a larire iiumicd cnpHal at his sottinjx out business, thoujrh it may be hiirhiv jTratilVimr to T le in Us rr//j/. lave known ion. over- u^y are ex- ihe col- I I'it'jd by the posj^cssion t)f a iarjre mtmied capital at set tin x out, leads men into a thousand risks, which thev cannot e:ic>nin(or with >ut extreme ])eril. On the other ire and caution, which small ij;:.-id tho^e habits of c '200 COMMON SCHOOL RKADHR. i> "I means, and ifrtidup.l and niodcratc earnings beget, arc a hiire toiindntion of incr'Nifse ami security. Hi. liiirgc; means and extensive speculations, where tlie possessor has !uid no lessons in a luin)l)ler sphere, nor been compelled \>y an early and stern necessity to proceed uith the greatest caution, almost inevitably lead to habits of wasteful expenditure. " Many estates arc Fpent in the getting." Wealth ;md accumulatioji de- peml as much u|)on saving as upon gaining. 11. To say of a young man, therejore, coming into life with health, strength, capacity for labor, a good ed- ucation, a useful and respectable trade, habits of so- briety and frugality, and above ',di, a good and imsullied cliaracter, that he has no capital, is a gross al)surdity ami error. !5. lie has the best of all cji])ital, — a moral ca])ital, the noblest of all power, — moral power: he has tlio most cert;lin means of hcmest and honorable ;iccumul;i- tion and ibrtune, and may he sure, under circmmstanccs ordinarily propitious, to rise to that ccmpetencey of in- lluence, respect, and general conJidence, and tliat han- orable measure of we^dHi and independence, which should fidly satisfy a reasonable and virtuous ambition. ClIAPTKil LXXXVI. C'harai'tcr ol* Wilfocrlbrce. I. The latter part of the eighteenth century forms ;)d pre-eminent. Sur- veying our world with an eye of philanthropy, lie beheld one portiim of the globe overshadowed j)y' the darkest gloom and wrapped in wretchedness. He saw one eu- tn-e (piarter of the world devoted to the avarice and cupidity of all ChrislcMidoni, and ^c(mrged bv one of the direst woes that ever disfressed the human (;imily. 4. He lool- d liround upon his own country and saw It stained and deeply im})iicated in this work of blood : he looked abrond to other lands, and beheld the sutler- ings of the captive :— his heart was touched, his symj)a- ttiies were moved, jiis determination was formed' He r(>solve(I forthwith to con^ecr;ite his powers to the iioblo work of redeeming a continent from rapine and blocd- .^hed, and cleansing his country jV(>iu implicated guilt. 5. He arose in the puw(#ot' his moving ehsijuence and put forth his mighty energies. He embraced the pillars which supported this huge i)ile of inicpiity, and the vast structure tottered and crumbled. Self-interest took alarm, a fierce and formidable (ypposition arose, ruid the council-chumber rang with alternate bursts of im- passioned and thrilling ehxpience. Long and doubtliil was the conflict: calm and resfilute was^tho onset, hot and foaming the resistance. 0. With a resolution undaunted, a courage undismnv- e;l, and a benevolence uidaltering, he persev(;red, despit--^ of persecution and obloquy, for twenty years, until,, with the aid of kindred spirits, he succeeded in exciting the abhorrence of a n;ition against the odious custom, and washed froju his country's vestments the red stains of pollution. This man was Wilbcrforce ; that conti- nent was Africa. 7. Fn the character of this noble man we have exhibited . - ,1 i ilii i;v,ti iiinj COMMON nriiooL ukaih.k. tlip l<>vlic?1 niid suhlmirsl tr;iifs. 'I'riic mdcpiMKlcncf , hiirli iii«>r;i! t'oiira:^', incoiriiptibic virlMt> ; — the I'licultie^ of li's niiiul, and the viiiiic ol" his lirart ^rcm to have rivall(Ml cn<'h oiIkm" : and ImiIIi slicd their Mciidcd iiillii- (MH'cs upon the mitral worhl, irradialini'; and vivilyinir it. a.s the >un and ^htt\\(M>; the physical. i*^. How oiorious and radiant was Itis career ! lie was n hriii'ht star .-iinid tliat ralaw in which shcne Pitt, I"\)X, liurk(\ Sheridan, and Ciianninii;, UeiMiiiii'ji; with a steady !iistr( . and r<'!lectii'ii,' npeii this diud; world, the lijjlii .;'.nd Inve of Heaven. \). " iH'ili wa? his Iniiie : lor senates oft liave heard ^\'ilh woiul(M- lli:;1 harnionious elntp.K-iu'e ; /\ud injuried .MVica had canaht, tlu- word — Her (diaiiis '-ad hurst Ix'neath its inlhience : .And her dark son^ now learn to breathe the naiiic or him who thoni'dil ol" them, when suidv in yuilt and shame."' A-iJ.&: 10. Rnt alas! the nreatvYc'i"'^ to wiiicii a Wiibcrforcc d(>vot(>d the vi^or of his nays, ronniins yet unfinished. 'J'he. unlortnuati' race, for wliicdi he pleaded so htno- and pinD; and discousehito, lor licr children arc in oaptivitv and sioh l"or delivcrtnH'C, I I. !!er sorrows are still too o;r(>at lor humanity. »Siic IS plund'.M'ed and wo-woin ; and thouoh li(>r (rreal advo- cate and henclactor has ^'one down to the grave — liiough Wilherlorcc i.s dead, tiiajiks to (iod, his •^oirit lives, and is still inspiring the brtNistsot' men, — it l)nrns ;uid},Mow3 in the besoms of. thons'ands m l'liiro[)c and America, and the piu-e llauio will wax int(Misi'r, and hiujier, uiul broailer, until slavery shall W iu> more. , 1"^. His voice comes " tlndllintj: to our liearts"' from ib.e j^ruvo. inspiriiiif ns uitii fresh hopes, innl cheeriiin us onward to victory. His lirinht example of nnu'tyr- like devotion to truth, ami diirnilied forbearanc(i under WUirfvoil;. -.'?;'^ ■ III to (lave i(!(mI iiillii- ivifyiiiif it. •! lit- was Pitt, Tox. li ;i st(';i(lv , flic li"'lu VC ]\( urd lu'c ; (1 i('ii('( k • the naiiH ik in nnilt ' ill)er(()rce inlinislicd. L) loiio- and i\lVica ii^ rcii art' in mity. Slir ffcal advd- L> — tllOllifll lives', and i!ll(l;,f|(>W3 AiiK'iica, iiiher, and irts'" from I chcoriiisj, »r niartyr- ic'(i uiuler ("OAIMON SCIIOOI, ur.ADHK 203 provor/itioii, is Ix^'orf; us for iniitfltiori. f^cl. tlwi follow- iiil( sciitiiMfMit 1)(.' no less a|)i)lical)lo to ourselves than to him : " Wilhcrlni-cc, thy zeal Cr man Ix'low Was more th in earth horn h.ve (>!' Imm;in kind : And souls that kindUvl in thv hinnino- mIow. FeU'luas the Saviour's siuili'/ht, ( n the mind." CIFAPTKIl J.XXXVir. .'i 'Pvinrh' OSS l-'lrr. 1. While, some (d" our jiarty were (lijniiin; into the sand near the ed^c , .'uid l)ridiino; our horse.-.;. One hv on(\ a:' IHst a.H we eoiihi v::]^^ on lire in all directio/i:. When within a mile ot' Ihe ;-teep deedivilv which cut off the j)r;iij-io ahove Ironi the valley, the dark llaines were soen llashiiio- amoii'i the dry eeda.rs, aiui a dense vir,<:je mimber of cartrid'^re,-'. The explosion of ihote "'VC had luifctiiken for the report of our camion. ,fil ^Mi o 204 COMMON SCHOOL READER. IT tf^m . : 5. We dashed ahead with the hope of rendering some assistance to our companions, but before we could rcacli the place of the steep and rugged hill, the fire was rushing down with fearful rapidity, leaping nnd flashing across the gullies, and roaring in the deep and yawning chasms with the wild and appalling tones of a tornado. G. Ever and anon, as the llnmes would strike the dry andcriiggy tops of the ceda''s, a report as of a musket would be heard, and in such quick succession did these reports follow each other, that I can liktn them to nc- ihing save the irregular discharge of infantry. 7. The wind wn.s blowing fresh t>om the west when the prairie first caught, carrying the llamewith a rapid- ity astonishing, over the very ground on which we had travelled' during the day. The wind lulled with the set- ting of the sun, and now .the fire began to spread slowly in other directions. 8. The passage by which we descended was futcfi" by the (Itirnes, and night fcund (,ur party still in the valley, unable to find any nearer rente to the hind above, Our situation was a dangerous one too ; for had the wind sprung up, and veered into the east, with such n velocity did the llnnies tprcad, we should have found much difficulty in cscnping. 9. About nine o'clock I was fortunate enough to meet with seme of our men, who directed me to a pas- sage up the ascent. It sh(;u]d be remarked here, thui cur party who liad started fr( m the river by this time, were scattered in every direction, each man endeavor- ing to find his way to f'lw ciniip by his own road. 10. Fortunately the fire luid been checked in a vves^t- ern direction by the peculiar formatitn of the giound and by the wind. Worn down by fatigue, hunger, and almost choked with thirst, I laid down upon the blackened ground thai night, but it was long heicre sleep visited my eyelids. 11. A broad &lieet of ilnme, miles in width, could still be seen in the cast, lighting up the heavens with a bright glow, while the subdued, jet deep rear cf th« rendering :e we could 11, the fire saping nnd le deep and r tones of a •ike the dry .f a nuit^kel ;ii did llu'fcc lie 111 to nc- r ; west when vitii a rapid- iiich vvc had vith the sct- )read slowly Wcis rut eff still ill the ! 1;iih1 above, for had the with fcuch n hs.ve Ibuiid ! enoujih to me (o a pas- d here, ihui )y this time, 11 eiideavcr- road. ?d in