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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seui clichi. il est film6 d partir de Tangle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. »y errata Bd to int ne pelure, if on d 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 WoLFE'8 Cove, Quebec.-By H:R.H. the Pkincess Louise. ] Si special Canadian Series. f FOUETH BOOK 07 BEADING LESSONS. With Illusthationji from Giacomelli and Othep Eminent Artists. Jt >:^' ,***, Toronto: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, AND JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON. Peiixi Entered, according to Act of Parliament, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, in the year of our Lord 1882, by Thomas Nelson and Sons, and James Campbell and Son, Toronto. 3 ot Jon, PEEFACE. -M- We erter the Fourth Book by the old military gateway o£ Quebec, through whose massive portals throng, the stirring memo- ries of two hundred and seventy years. The fearless explora- tions of Champlain, La Salle, Joliet, and their gay voyagcurs ; the devotion and the sufferings of Marquette and Prebceuf ; the Indian ambuscades ; the lawless rollicking bush-rangers (Coureurs des Bois) ; the great fur-trading Nabobs ; those magnificent spend- thrifts the French Intendants ; the lordly proconsuls of France and of England — all these and many other visions of the older time throng through the old gateway when Quebec is mentioned No wonder that sc much imaginative and descriptive literature has been inspired by memories of this historic fortress ! The immigrant arrived at Quebec when the summer is breaking, already finds his yearnings for the dear Old Land half charmed away by the lovely landscapes of the New; tho?igh, all unconsciously, he will still often find himself hum- ming 7'A« B-^Us of Slumdwij or LocJiaber no Mwe. As he IT PREFACE. ascends the mighty River and traverses our inland Seas, and so gets into the great current of our national life, hir sympathiea with Canada deepen and broaden. He soon wins for Mmself a snug nest under the greenwood tree or out upon the prairie. His opened eye learns the Indian woodcraft, and his quickened, ear distinguishes kindly voices in the solitudes. He gratefully enjoys the bracing air, the brilliant sunshine, the moonlight sleeping on the forest-side, the glories of our Indian summer. And when winter breathes cold upon him from "the White North" — from Franklin's grave — the pioneer keenly enjoys by his back-log fire the tuneful pages that tell him how the first bold adventurers came over to win the American wilds, and how the red-cross flag came to float over so much of this broad earth. Such has been the life of most of our pioneers. This Book is designed to be read by their children and their grandchil- dren. Can it do better than reflect the stages of our national life? Toronto, July &V», 888. CONTENTS. Verse is indicated by Italic$. :^art :Elir0t. Quebec, with Frontispiece, Stanzas from ** The Princess," The Thousand Isfarids, Idyls of Inverburn, How the Cliff was Clad, The Sea, Canada : its Scenery and Majestic Pro- portions, Lochaher no More, The Bells of Shandon, ** She is Far from the Land," The Meeting of the Waters, Memories of the Old Land, The Scot Abroad, The First Spring Day, Spring, Founding- of Gait, Guelph, and Goderich, Down upon the Green Earth, In Windsor Forest, The Unwritten History of our Forefathers Tom Boidinff, To the Lady fhu'.'lolte Bawdon, i?ereward, the English Outlaw, . The Skylark, < H.R.H. the Princess Louise, \ Marchioness of Lonu, Alfred Tennyson^ ChtirU* Sangster, Robert Buchanan, Bjomstjerne Bjomson, ( Bryan Waller Procter {"Bari-y \ Cornwall") > Hon. Joseph Howe, Allan Ramsay, , ( Rev. fra' cis Mahony {" Father I Prout"), Thomas Moore, Thomas Moore, W. J. Rattray, Daniel Wilson, LL.D., Christina 0. Rossetti, . . Oliver Wendell Holmes, John Gait, Charles Mnckay, Alexander Poi,s, I Rev. J. Mnckemie, Charles I>ibdin, ... Thomas Moore, John^Lingard, James Hogg, 11 13 14 15 16 IS 20 24 25 £6 27 20 30 31 32 £y 40 41 45 40 40 52 1' VIU Sketches in the North-West, From ** The Hunter of the Prair The Bison Track, Throe Caitiffs, The Cayote, or Prairie Wolf, The Cofiote, Tommy Traddles, The Head and the Heart, ... Friendship, Old St. Paul's School, ... Bill is a Briffht Boy, A Beaver Colony, Stanzas from " Sensitive Plant" Old Fur-trading Nabobs, . . . * ' O Stream Descendintj, " ... At the Clear Fountain, ijalissonibre and Bigot, ... CONTENTS, Major W. F. ButUr 58 ie»," ! W.C. Bryant, 88 James Bayard Taylnr, 64 Based upon W. Hamilton Gibson, 65 S.L. CUm^ns (" Mark Twain "), 68 F.Bret Harte, 70 Charles Ditkens, 71 J.a.Saxe 78 Shakapeare, 78 David Masson, 74 J.S.BlackU, 76 " Eneyclopofdia Britannica," 78 P. B. Shelley, 80 Washington Irving, 81 A.H.Clough 86 " Voyagear Song," 87 William Kirby, 80 , )^art jSeranb. The Cry of the Suffering Creatures, Mary Howitt, . 01 Cruelty to Animals, Thomas Chalmers, D.D., 02 "Farmed Out," Charles Dickens, 04 On Charles Dickens, Dean Stanley, ' . 06 The Cry of the Children Elizabeth Bamit Browning, .. 07 Lilliputian Tailors and Cooks, ... Dean Swift . 101 The Character of Swift, W. M. Thackeray, ... . 108 " My Life is like the Summer Rose," B.H. Wilde, . 108 King John, Framework cifShakspeare'sPla\ 1, 104 The Four Greatest English Poets, Wm.HazlUt, . 108 Scen^efrom King John, The Black Prince at Cre9y, Shakspeare, . 100 Dean StatUey, . lis Th e Soldier's Dream, Thomas Campbell, . 117 Easter Eve in Moscow, D. Mackenzie Wallace, . 118 The Czar A lexauder I!., .^ D. 0. Rossetti, . ISO Waiting for tl eir Release, ..' Henry Lansdell, . 121 Lines from the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, . ... . . 121 Dying, ... Robert Buchanan, . 122 Traps and -Trapping, Based upon W. Hamilton Gibso n, 128 Th c Dark Hu ntsma n, Charles Heavysege . 126 Sonnet on C/uirtes Huvysege, JohnReade, . 128 Sonnet, John Keats, . 128 The Dutchman's Paradise^ The Sedtfe-Bird's Nest, f. Norman M'Leod, D.D., . 120 John Clare, . 131 Ned Softly, the Poet, Joseph Addison; . 182 Goldsmith, W. M. Thackeray . 135 Ala^, so Long ! D. G. Rossetti, .. 188 The Taking of Detroit ... ... . .. ISO Tecumseh, Francis Hall .. 142 TheLii4 Word, Matthew Arnold, .. 148 Hci'ois^n, Lord Byron, ... .. 148 The Great Earthquake, Sir John F. W. Herschel, .. 145 The Garden of the Hesperides William Morris, .. 147 * B ■ CONTENTS. 88 M 65 es 70 71 78 78 74 76 78 80 81 86 87 80 01 08 04 96 97 101 108 103 104 108 109 113 117 118 120 121 121 122 123 126 128 128 129 131 132 135 138 ISO 142 148 148 145 147 » The United Empire Loyalists, The Old Home, Tommy's Dead, Venice, The Merchant of Venice, Analysis of Shylock's Character, Scenes from '* The Merchant of Venice,' Egerton Ryerton, D.D., L. E. Landon, ... Sydney Dobell, Lord Byron, Framework fl/Shalupeare'$ Play, A. fV.ScJiUget Shaktpeare, )Part JJE^hirb. A Battle Field, The Charae at Waterloo, ... The Battle of Queenston Heights Brock, Water, The Cold- Water Man, Harold Skimpole, The Water Fairy, Tlie Founding of Halifax, Centenarif of Halifax, A Revene near St. Thomas, Camping Out, Bfiawathd't Saving, Health of Houses ( I. ), To Florence Niijhtimale, . . . Health of Houses (11. ), ... The Dying Child, Thanatopsis, The Retreat from Cabul, ... The Red Thread of Honor, English Schools in the Middle Ages, ... The Emancipation Proclamation, TheBiveilU, August, .: l%t Indian Summer, !nie Lotos-Eaters, Stanzas from " The Cattle of Indolence," Scandinavia, Winter, A Walrus Hunt, Discovery of the Mouth of the Mackenzie, On the Snore of the Frozen Ocean, Epitaph on Franklin, Westminster A.bbey, Schwatka's Search, The Long Ago, ** He giveth His Bdoved Sleep," Night and Death, British Columbia, The Bush-Rangers (Coureurs des Bois), The Moufid Builders, The Finding, of Livingstone, Livingstones Death and Character, ... IX 140 161 152 1S5 1 »l I' It: Lord Byron, . 166 Sir Walter Scott .. 167 ■<• ••• •<• >•■ • .. 168 CharltB Sang$ter, . 171 J. B. Gouyh, . 172 J.Q.Saxe, . 173 Charles Diekens, 1V5 A. C. Swinburne . 177 Btamiah Murdoch, . 178 JonephHowe . 181 AnnaJameton, . 183 Bated on the Works qf Oibto n and Hardy, . 185 H. W. Longfellcw, ... . 180 Florence Nightingale . 198 Edwin Arnold, . 106 Florence Ni\/htingale, ... . 197 Havs Chrudian Andersen, . 198 W.C.Bryant, . 169 Justin M'CaHhy, . 200 Sir Francis H. Doyle, . 205 Bev. Professor Stubbs . 200 Hon. Gewrye Broun, ... . 211 F.BretHarie . 212 A. C. Swinburne, . 214 Samuel Lover, ... . 216 Alfred Tennyson, . 216 James Thimson, . 217 DuChnillu, . 218 Bobert Bums, . 220 E.K.Kane, . 221 Sir Alex. Mackentie, ... 224 Capt. (Sir) John Franklin, . . 227 A^fr^ Ttnnyson, .. 230 W.H.Gildtr, . 231 Lord Houghton, . 284 E. B. Browning, . 284 J. Blaneo White, . 236 Principal Grant, D.D., . 237 Francis Parknuin, . 240 T. W. Higginson, . 242 H. M. Stanley, . 244 J.S.Keltie, . 247 *f CONTENTS, :F>«rt fourth. The Blind Flower-fJirl of Pompeii, The Jnjlaeiur of Beautii, Battle of the Nile, .. The Virtin'!/, Linesfroin " The Orphan Bnt/, The Suez Canal, Lord Sydenham, . . . UtUrodUen Waifn, ... Canada on the Sea, From '• The Ocean Staff," " Break, break, bretik," How many Fins has a Cod Storin-Sontj, ... The Liijht-Houxe, ... Zeal-for-Truth Thoreaby, .. The iiotver, Buiofph, Death of Hampden, Stanzas from, the " Elenti," The Sentence of Charles I., The Pmritans, Scott's " Lay of tho Last Minstrel," Melrose Abbey, The Battle of Killiecrankie, The Bermudas, Dismissal of the Rump, ... The Black Hole of Calcutta, The Tiger, New Brunswick, The Snow-Storm, The Old fashioned Fireside, The Birch Back-log, We're a' John Tamson's Bairns, The Pickwick Club on the Ice, Victor and Vanquished, ... My Books, Sunset Wings, The Last Illness of the Prince Consort, Dedication of " The Idylls of Vie King," Veni Creator, Sdward Lord Lytton, ... .. 240 John Keatn, .. 2M Lieut. Liw, .. t» Rtjbert Soulheif, .. SM Mrs. OpU, .. 267 >•• ••• ••• ••• • .. 2M J.C.Dent .. 262 " FidelU " (Afiaa Mtuhir), . .. 26S J. 0. lUnirinot, .. 264 Charles Sanynter, .. 266 At/red Tennyson, . 267 T. C. Halihtirttm, .. 268 J. Bayard Taylor, .. 276 H. }r. Lotmfdlow, ... .. 277 Rev. Clmrlea Kinysley, .. 279 James Rwaell Lmwll, ... .. 282 Oliver tFendell Holmes, .. 2t« Lord Macaulay, .. 284 Thoman Cray, ... .. 287 John '/"orster, ... .. 280 Lord Macanlay, .. 2»1 R. II. Hut ton, .. 292 Sir IFalter Scott .. 296 J. Hill Burton, .. 296 Andrew Marvell, .. 800 llunnas CarlyU, .. ao2 Lord Macaulay, .. S06 IVilliam Blake .. ao9 Robert Mackenzie, .. 810 R. W. Emerson, .. 312 J. G. Whiitier .. 318 C. D. Warner .. 815 AUx. M'Lachlan, .. 818 Charl-^ Dukens, .. 320 H. W. Lo}mfellow, ... .. 326 H. W. Lovatellow, .. 326 D. Q. Roisetti, .. 327 Sir Theodore Martin, ... .. 328 Alfred Tennyson, .. 834 John Dryden, .. 386 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. PART I. -»♦- aXJEBEC* H.R.H. THE Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lorne. Equal gallantry, and very unequal fortune, characterized the- contest between the French and the English for the New World. Had the French Court sufficiently backed their gallant general, who was fighting against long odds, the French language might have been spoken now over regions more extensive than the Province of Quebec or the State of Louisiana. Two fruitless- victories crowned their arms, and two defeats brought about the treaty, the results of which were so loyally accepted by the French Canadians that there is no population more attached than is theirs to the British Constitution. High as were the hopes of the gallant commanders of the English in 1758, they could hardly have expected that, within a brief period, the sons of Uie brave men who confronted them would be fighting side by side with the redcoats to repel the invasion which threatened to absorb Canada in the neighboring Republic. But the armament equipped against the French colonists was imposing enough in number of ships and troops to justify confidence that resistance could not be prolonged. The first remarkable action was that at Louisburg. It was one of the two decisive British successes. The place shows no striking natural features. -ow rocky shores almost encircle a wide bay. Dominatiiig che recesses of this bay, and to the left Us the fleet entered, rose the strong ramparts of a citadel, garrisoned by some of the best regiments of the royal army of France. * Reprinted, by the kind permission of His Excellency the Marquis of Lorne, from Oood Words, April 1882. 12 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. The fleet advances, a cloud of small boats covers the waters between the ships and the shore. The surf is heavy, and the position of the garrison looks most formidable. A slight figure in the leading boat stands up amid a storm of shot, and is seen to wave his hat. Some said afterwards that he waved his men back, thinkiiig the attempt to land too perilous. But his gallant followers think it is the signal for a dash : on they row amid the splash of balls and roar of artillery ; and, as each boat touches land, the crew leap out, and slipping, struggling through the surf, form amid the terrible fire, and rush to the assault. The capture of the place was an extraordinary feat of arms, and the slightly-built man v/ho waved his cocked hat in the leading boat that day was soon afterwards nominated chief of the r»ritish forces in North America. Wolfe's next chance was given him in the summer of 1759, when Montcalm, calmly watching his enemy's movements from the ridges near the Falls -of Montmorenci, was enabled to crush a brigade too hastily thrown on shore, and compelled it to retreat, leaving many killed and wounded. But the hold gained by the invader was not to be easily shaken off. Already master of the Island of Orleans, with the banks of the river below the Falls, and also those opposite to Quebec, in his hands, Wolfe waited until the autumn. His able opponent lay in the lines he had successfully defended. They stretched along the left side of the St. Law- rence as far as the Isle of Orleans, and encircled the city, which on its commanding cape presented one steep front to the great river and another to the wide valley of a small stream named the St. Charles. On the third side the citadel batteries looked across the so-called Plains of Abraham, a plateau, the walls of which rise steeply two hundred feet abo\ ^ the water. The position was a difficult one to take, and it was held by soldiers who, if they had been properly supported by the Government at Versailles, would have rendered it impregnable. Joined with a few of the finest regiments, composed of the veterans of the wars of King Louis, were gallant bands of hardy provincials, who had proved that they could render most efficient aid to the regulars. But there was a chance for the English to place themselves near the town and on a level with its garrison l>efore the French reinforcements expected from Montreal should arrive. Wolfe had an overwhelming superiority in his fleet, both of men-of-war and of transports. These he well employed. Making as though he would again attempt to force the lines he FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, la e waters and the ht figure d is seen his men But his they row ach boat : through assault, of arms, it in the chief of ance was I, calmly the Falls :> hastily ig many ader was island of and also until the cessfuUy St Law- , which le great named looked walls of The soldiers ernment Joined «rans of vincials, d to the place n l)efore should is fleet, 1 ployed, lines he had vainly attacked in the summer, he caused the mass of his. enemy's forces to remain one autumn afternoon on the Bea im- port shore, and then under cover of night swept up with th^ tide above the city. Quickly scaling the high bank, he drew up his men without meeting with resistance. Montcalm in the- gray of morning hurried over the St. Charles and poured his. troops thiough the town on to the plateau. Impetuously attacking, he was driven back and mortally wounded, almost at the same moment that Wolfe also fell, happier than his rival, who lived long enough to feel that the desertion of himself and of his army by the French Coart must cause the surrender of the town. But its possession was again stoutly contested the next year, and the Marquis de Levis revenged in 1760, too late, and uselessly, the disaster of the previous year. Pictures from my Portfolio (1S82). Home they brought her warrior dead : — She nor swooned nor uttered cry : All her maidens, watching, said, "She must weep, or she will die." Then they praised him, soft and ^ow, Called him worthy to be loved. Truest friend and noblest foe ; — Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face ; — Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years. Set his child upon her knee ; — Like summer tempest came her tears — *' Sweet my child, I live for thee." Tennyson : The Princess. 14 FOURTH BOOK OF REAJ)ING LESSONS. r THE THOUSAND ISLANDS. Charles Sangster (bom at Kingston, 1822). [Sanffster is the laureate of Ontario, as Frechette is of rjuebec. Both reach their chief exceUence iii lyric poetry ; and, in their Ix'st lyrics, they have taken tlieir insniration and color from the magnificent scenery of the St. Lawrence and tne Saguenay.] Here the Spirit of Beauty keepetli Jubilee for evermore ; Here the Voice of Gladness leapeth, Echoing from shore to shore. O'er the hidden watery valley, O'er each buried wood and glac^e, Dances our delighted galley ' Through tlu^ sunlight and the shade — Dances o'er the granite cells, Where the Soul of Beauty dwells. Here the flowers are ever springing While the summer breezes blow; Here the Hours are ever clinging, Loitering before they go ; -^ -" 1— I • FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 1* Playing round each beauteous islet, Loath to leave the sunny shore, "Where, upon her couch of violet. Beauty sits for evermore — Sits and smiles hy day and night Hand in hand with pure Delight. Here the Spirit of Beauty dwelleth In each palpitating tree, In each amber wave that welletli From its home, beneath the sea; In the moss upon the granite, ' In each calm, secluded bay, "With the zephyr trains that fan it With their sweet breaths all the day — On the waters, on the shore. Beauty dwelleth evermore ! The St. Laivrence and the Sagxienay (185G). IDYLS OF INVERBURN. RoBEKT Buchanan (b. 1841). ]\ly father was a shepherd, old and poor, "Wlio, dwelling 'moiig the clouds on norland hills. His tartan plaidie on, and ))y his side His sheep-dog running, reddened with the winds That whistle saltly south from Polar seas. I followed in his footsteps when a boy. And knew by heart t\w mountains round our home: But when I went to Edinglass,* to learn At college there, I looked about the j)lace. And heard the murmur of the busy streets Around me in a dream ; and only saw The clouds that snow around the mountain tops, The mists that chase the phantom of the moon In lonely mountain tarns ; and heard the while, Not footsteps sounding hollow to and fro. But wild winds, wailing through the woods of pine. Time passed, and day by day those sights and sounds Grew fainter, till they troubled me no more. Willie Baird (1865). * Edinbui-gh. 16 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADINO LESSONS. HOW THE CLIFF WAS CLAD. Bjornstjerne Bjornson. [Bjomstjeme Bjornson (pr. he-irn-ate-er'-n^h be-irnr-son), who now ranks as one of the greatest writers of Northern Europe, achieved his first success in 1857, and with that year the new literary hfe of Norway is considered to commence. Bjornson has now innumerable enthusiastic readers in the languages of Western Europe. " Anie " (pr. ar-nay) disputes the first place in TK>pularity with " The Happy Boy." Both owe their charm to their de- lightful pictures of Norse scenery and rural life.] Between two cliflTs lay a deep ravine, with a full stream rolling heavily through it over boulders and rough ground. It was high and steep, and one side was bare, save at the foot, where clustered a thick, fresh wood, so close to the stream that the mist from the water lay upon the foliage in spring and autumn. The trees stood looking upwards and forwards, unable to move either way. " What if we were to clothe the Cliff? " said the Juniper one day to the foreign Oak that stood next him. The Oak looked down to find out who was speaking, and then looked up again without answering a word. The stream worked so hard that it grew white ; the north wind rushed through the ravine, and shrieked in the fissures ; and the bare Cliff hung heavily over and felt cold. " What if we were to clothe the Cliff?" said the Juniper to the Fir on the other side. " Well, if anybody is to do it, I suppose we must," replied the Fir, stroking his beard. " What dost thou think ? " he added, looking over to the Birch. "In Mercy's name, let us clothe it," answered the Birch, glancing timidly towards the Cliff, which hung over her so heavily that she felt as if she could scarcely breathe. And thus, although they were but three, they agreed to clothe the Cliff. The Juniper went first. When they had gone a little way, they met the Heather. The Juniper seemed as though he meant to pass her by. " Nay, let us take the Heather with us," said the Fir. So on went the Heather. Soon the Juniper began to slip. " Lay hold on me," said the Heather. The Juniper did so, and where there was only a little crevice the Heather put in one finger ; and where she had got in one finger, the Juniper put in his whole hand. They crawled and climbed, the Fir heavily behind with the Birch. "It is a work of charity," said the Birch. But the Cliff began to ponder what little things these could FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 17 he that came clambering up it ; and when it had thought over this a few hundred years, it sent down a little Brook to see about it. It was just spring flood, and the Brook rushed on till she met the Heather. " Dear, dear Heather, canst thou not let me pass? I am so little," said the Brook. The Heather, being very busy, only raised herself a little, and worked on. The Brook slipped under her, and ran onwards. " Dear, dear Juniper, canst thou not let me pass? I am so little," said the Brook. The Juniper glanced sharj)ly at her; but as the Heather liad let her pass, he thought he might do so as well. The Brook slipped under him, and ran on till she came where the Fir stood j)anting on a crag. " Dear, dear Fir, canst thou not let me puss? I am so little," the Brook said, fondly kissing the Fir on iiis foot. The Fir felt bashful, and let her j»ass. But the Birch made way before the Brook asked. " He, he, he," laughed the Brook, as she grew large. " Ha, ha, ha," laughed the Brook again, pushing Heather and Juniper, Fir and Birch, forwards and backwards, up and down on the great crags. The Cliff sat for many hundred years after, pondering whether it did not smile a little that day. It was clear the Cliff did not wish to be clad. The Heather felt so vexed that she turned green again, and then she went on. " Never mind ; take courage ! " said the Heather. Tlie Juniper sat up to look at the Heather, and at last he rose to his feet. He scratched his head a moment, and then he too went on again, and clutched so iirmly that he thought the Cliff could not help feeling it. " If thou wilt not take me, then I will take thee," said he. The Fir bent his toes a little, to feel if they were whole ; lifted one foot, which he found all right ; then the other, which was all right too ; and ilien both feet. He first examined the path he had come, then where he had been lying, and at last where b ' had to go. Then he strode onwards, just as though he had never fallen. The Birch had been splashed very badly, but now she got up and made herself tidy. And so tliey went rapidly on, upwards and sidewards, in sunshine and rain. "But what in the worJd is all this?" said the Cliff when the sunnner sun shone, the dew-drops glittered, the birds sang, the wood-mouse sf(ueaked, the hare bounded, and the weasel hid and screamed among the tr(>es. Then the day came when the Heather could peep over the Cliff's edge. "Oh dear me!" said she, and over she went. "What is it the Heather sees, dear?" said the Juniper, and 2 18 FOURTH BOOK CF READING LESSONS. came forwards till he t/^o could peep over. "Dear me!" he cried, and over he went. *' What's the matter with the J uniper to-day ?" said the Fir, taking long sUides in the hot sun. Soon he too, by standing on tiptoe, could peep over. "Ah !" — every branch and prickle stood on end with astonishment. He strode onwards, and over he wcmt. " What is it they all see and not 1 ?" said the Birch, lifting up her skirts and tripping after. "Ah!" said she, putting her head over, "there is a whole forest of fir, and heather, and juniper, and hirch waiting for us on the plain ;" and her leaves tremV)led in the sunshine till the dew-drops fell. "This comes of reaching forwards," said the Juniper. THE SEA. Buy AN Wallek Pugctkk (Bakuy Cornwall)— 171K) -1874. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, U runneth the Earth's wide regions round ; 1 plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies. I'm on the Sea ! I'm on the Sea I I am where I would ever be ; With the blue above and the blue below And silence wheresoe'er I go. If a storm should come oiid awake the deep, What matter ? / shall ride, and sl(;ep. I love (oh, hoto I love) to ride On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, When every mad wave drowns the moon, Or whistles aloft Ids tempest tune, And tells how goeth the world below, And why the sauth-west blasts do blow. I never was on the dull, tame shore, ]^ut I loved the grt^at sea more and more. And ))aeople. Desiring to infon'^ himself more fully on Canada and its ]x>litical system, he undert'^aK in 1841 a tour through the united provinces, and attended the openmg of the first Parliament at ivingston. On his return to Nova Scotia he thus recorded his im- pressions : — J He is not a wise Nova Sco^ian who shuts himself up within the boundaries of his own little province, and, waiting life amidst the narrow prejudices and evil passions of his own con- tracted sphere, vegetates and dies, regardless of the growing communities and widely extending influences by which the interests of his country are aftected every day, and which may at no distant j)eriod, if not watched and counteracted, control its destinies with an overmastering and resistless power. The question has been put to us twenty times in a day since we returned home, "What do you think of Canada?" and as it is likely to be many times repey.ted, we take this early oppoi'- tunity of recording our conviction that it is Oxie of the noblest countries that it has ever been our good fortune to behold. Canada wants two elements of prosperity which the lower colonies possess — open harbors for general commerce, and a homogeneous population ; but it has got everything else that the most fastidiouo political economist would require. We knew that Canada was a very extensive province, that there was some tine scenery in it, and tJiat much of the soil was good, for we had read all this a great nc^any times ; but yet it is only by spending some weeks in traversing the face of the country that one becomes really alive to its vast proportions, its great national featui'es, boundless resources, and surpassing beauty. It is said, so exquisite is tht^ architecturti of St. Peter's at Rome, that it is not until a visitor has examined the fingers of a cherub, and found them as thick as his arm, or until he has attempted to fondle a dove, and found it far l)eyond his reach, and much larger than an eagle, that he becomes aware of the dimensions of the noble pile. So is it with Canada. A glance at the map or a perusal of a volume or two of description will FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 21 IS own coii- givo but a faint idea of the country. It must be felt to be understood. Nova Scotia and Cape Breton together extend owv a space of four hundred miles, and a good steam-boat will run past both in thirty hours. From Anticosti to Quebec is about six hun- dred miles ; and then when you have got there, you are but upon the threshold of the province. For two days and nights you steam along after entering the estuary of the St. Lawrence, at the Unicornis liighest speed, witli Canada on both sides of you ; and when you are beneath the shadow of Cape Diamond, you begin to think that you have got a reasonable distance inland — that Canada, as they say in the States, is "considerable of a place." But again you embark, and steam uj) the St. Lawrence, for one hundred and eighty miles further, to Montreal ; and there you may take your choice, either to continue your route or to ascend the Ottawa, and seek at a greater distance from you than you are from tlie sea for the northern limits of Canada. But you probably prefer adhering to the St. Lawrence, as we did ; and on you go, by coach and s\'eam-boat, for forty-eight hours more, and find yourself at Kingston. Looking back upon the extent of land and water you have passed, you begin to fancy that, if not near the end of the world, you ought at least to be upon the outside edge of Canada. But it is not so. You have only reached the central point chosen for the seat of government; and although you are a thousand miles from the sea, you may pass on west for another thousand miles, and yet it is all Canada. But the mere extent of the country would not perhaps im- press the mind so strongly if there were not so much of the vast, the magnificent, the national, in all its leading features. * It is impossible to fancy that you are in a province — a colony : you feel at every step that Canada must become a great nation ; and at every step you pray most devoutly for the descent upon the country of that wisdom, and foresight, and energy which shall make it the gi'eat treasury of British institutions upon this continent, and an honor to the British name. All the lakes of Scotland thrown together would not make one of those great inland seas, which form, as it were, a chain of Mediterraneans : all the rivers of England, old father Thames included, would scarcely fill the channel of the St. Lawrence. There is a gran- deur in the mountain ranges, and a voice in the noble cataracts, which elevate the spirit above the ignorance and the passions of the past, and the perplexities of the present, and make us n FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. feel that the great Creator of the universe never meant such a country to bo the scene of })erpetual discord and degradation, but will yet inspire the peoj»le with the union, the virtue, and the tri»e patriotism by which alone its political and social con- dii j,!l be made to take, more nearly than it does now, the impress of its natural features. Canada is a country to be proud of ; to inspire high thoughts ; to cherish a love for the sublime and beautiful ; and to take its stand among the nations of the Earth, in spite of all the circumstances which have hitherto retarded, and may still retard, its progi*ess. Annand : Si^eehes and Public Letters of the Hon. Joseph Hmoe. LOCHABER NO MORE. Allan Ramsay (1685-1758). [The air to which those touching words are sung is based upon a 8iuii)le ballad air of one strain, called Lord Romild my Son. The effect of Lochaber No More on Scotchmen when far from the dear old land strongly recalls the effect of the Rcmz des Vachen ("The Herding of the Kine")ujx>n Swiss exiles; for this simple herdsman's air, which Wordsworth vainly tried to feel, produced so much home-sickness and desertion among Swiss soldiery that it became a forbidden tune. So it once became necessary in the West Indies to forbid the playing of Lochaber No More within the hearing of a Highland regiment. In ' ' (Constable's Miscellany, " a pathetic story is told of a Lochaber soldier of the Tlst, who, having served out his time during the Peninsular War, took his discharge, and, despite the entreaties of an attached comrade, accepted service with a kind Spanish family. At the last good-bye, his comrade, holding Donald's hand in his own, sang a verse of Lochaber No More. Donald utterly broke down, and bursting into tears, exclaimed, " I'll no stay here — I canna bide here ! " The ix)or fellow re-enlisted, and next day was once more on the march with his Highland regiment.] Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean, Where heartsome wi' her I ha'e mony a day been ; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We'll may-be return to Lochaber no more. These tears that I shed they are a* for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on weir ; Though borne on rough seas to a far-distant shore, May-be to return to Lochaber no more. Though hurricanes rise, though rise every wind. No tempest can ecjual the storm in my mind ; Though loudest of thunders on louder waves roar, There's naething like leavin' my love on the shore. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 83 ^^r ■.^^mi . .^ .^' ^-:^%^-yz^ Joseph Hmoe, To leave thee behind me ray heart is sair pained, But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gained ; And beauty and love's the command of the brave, And I maun deserve it before I can crave. Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my excuse ; Since honor commands me, how can I refuse 1 Without it I ne'er could have merit for thee, iVnd losing thy favor I 'd better not be. I gae, then, my lass, to win honor and fame ]; And if I should chance to come trlorious name, I'll bring a heart to thee with love rumiing o'er, — And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more. Gloksary. — A\oU; gae, fro.- hume, home; ha'e, have; heartmrne, joyous ; maun, must; mony, many; naething, nothing; no, iwt; sair, sore; weir, war; wi', with. 24 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. THE BELLS OF SHANDON. Rkv. Fhancih Mahony ("Fathkr Phout"), 1805-1806. [*' Francis Mahony— or as ho called himHolf, O'Mahony, bettor known ah Father Prout— whh u kindred anirit, with the Bamo mixture of fun, learning, and fluency which diHtingtUHhoo, Mag^nn. "To have hoard Mahony Hing thiH, an old man, leaning Iuh fine old head, like a carving in ivory, againHt the mantlo-Hhelf, in a cracked and threjidy voice whicli had once l)een fine, h a pathetic memory, lietween the melodi- ous counnonplaco of MoorcH molodioB and the wild and im|)aHfiioned ravingH of Shan van Voght, this more tem(>orate tyf)e of Irish verse, with its charac- teristic broken melody, its touch of niockery, its soul of tinider if not pro- found remembrance is wholesome and grateful, though it has no pretensions to 1)0 great."— Mrs. Oliphant: Literary History of England (1882), These linos first appeared (1834) in Frater's Magazine, to which Father Prout was a ctmtributor. The bells that he has made so famous still chime the hours from the steeple of St. Anne, or UpfHir Shand«)n, in Cork, the IMtet's native city. Father Prout's own note is: *' The spire of Shandon, built on the ruins of old Shand(m Castle, is a prominent object, from whatever side the traveller approaches our beautiful city. In a vault at its foot sleep some generations of the writer's kith and kin. ' — The Reliques of Father Frout.] With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee ; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine ; While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate ;-* But all their music spoke naught like thine. For memory dwelling on each proud swelling Of thy belfry knelling its bold notes free. Made bells of the Shandon sound far more grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. I've heard bells tolling old Adrian's Mole* in, Their thunder rolling from the Vatican ; * Adrian's Mausoleum,— now the site of the Castle of St. Angelo, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. And cymbals f^lorious swinging uproarious In tho gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame.* But thy sounds were sweeter tiian tho dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly : Oh, the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on Tlie pleasant waters of the River Lee. There's a bell in Moscow ; while on tower and kiosk 1 In Saint Sophia t the Turkman gets, And loud in air calls men to prayer From the tapering summits of tall minareta Such empty phantom I freely grant them ; But there's an anthem more dear to nie : Tis tho bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. "SHE IS FAB FBOM THE LAKD.'* Thomas Moore (1779-1852). [The subject of these beautiful lines was the widow of Robert Emmett, a young barrister, who was executed (September 20) for his connection with the IriHh insurrection of July 23, 1803.J She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing ; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking — Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking 1 He had lived for his love, for his ^ountry he died — They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him ! Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest When they promise a glorious morrow ; They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, From her own loved island of sorrow ! * Notre Dame, the famous cathedral of Paris. 1 2St. Sophia, the great Mohammedan mosque of Constantincple. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. it THE MEETING OF THE WATEBS. Thomas Moore (1779-1852). There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; — Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Vet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet and hill ; Oh, no I — it was something more exquisite still, 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 27 MEMORIES CF THE OLD LAND. W. J. Rattray. It is certainly full time that Canadians began to regard their noble heritage with the eyes of national pride and predi- lection, and that its life, political, intellectual, and social, were taking a national tinge. If we cannot at once spring into the stature of complete manhood, it is at least possible — indeed, necessary, if we desire Canada to be great — that the habit^ so to speak, of nationality should be formed and cherished until it grows to be a familiar and settled feature in our country's life. But it is quite another thing to propose that the state shall be cleaned off, and that if this noble Canada of ours cannot begin without patriotic capital of its own, it should wait patiently until it has made a history and a name for itself. The stimulus necessary in the initial stages of colonial progress must be drawn from older lands ; it cannot be improvised off- hand at pleasure. Factitious patriotism is 6. sentimental gew- gaw which anybody may faVjricate and adorn with such tinsel rhetoric as he can command, but it l)ears no resemblance to the genuine article. As with the individual, so with Jag embryo nation : the life it leads, the pulse which leaps through its frame, is the life of the parent — the mother or the mother-land, as the case may be. Traditions gather about the young nationality as it advances through adolescence to maturity ; yet even the sons and grandsons of Englishmen, Scots, Irish- men, French, or Germans, must revere the memories of the country from which they sprang — glory in what is illustrious in its history, and strive to emulate the virtues transplanted i»^ their persons to blossom on another soil and beneath another sky. The old maxim, " No one can put off his country," has lost its international value in a legal sense ; but it remains valid in regard to the character, tendencies, and aptitude of the individual man. Such as his country has made him he is, and, broadly speaking, he must remain to the end of the chapter ; the national stamp will be impressed upon his cliildren and his children's children, and tracers of it will survive all vicissitudes and be perpetuated in his remotest posterity. In a new country there is much to dissipate traditional feelings, but inherited traits of character remain and crop up long after the 28 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Hi! ! ties of political connection have been broken for ever. Up to the time of the American Revolution, the colonists of New England, or Virginia, looked across the ocean with tender affec- tion to the dear old land they had left behind. England was a harsh mother to some of those expatriated ones, yet they never ceased to feel an honest pride in her renown ; and even beneath the surface-coldness of the Puritan character the glow of tender and almost yearning love for England burned in the heart and found expression in the writings of those early days. And so. at this day : with much to estrange the peoples of England and America, what is common to both on the glorious page of history, in the language nd literature of the English-speaking peoples, seems to attach them again to each other with ever- tightening bands. Crafty demagogues may flatter and prompt the ignorant prejudices of the residuum, but there can be little doubt that the sound heart of the United States is drawing closer to the maternal bosom than it has done at any time since 76. Attachment to the land from which we or our fathers cam** is not only compatible with intense devotion to the highest interests of the country where we dwell, but is a necessary con- dition of its birth, its growth, and its fervor. The dutiful son, the affectionate husband and father, will usually be the best and most patriotic subject or citizen ; and he will love Canada best who draws his love of country in copious draughts from the old fountain-head across the sea. We have an example of strong devotion to the European stock, combined with unwavering attachment to Canada, in our French fellow- countrymen of Quebec. No people can be more tenacious of their language, their institutions, and their religion than they are ; they still love France and its past glories with all the passionate ardor of their warm and constant natures ; and yet no people are more contented, more tenderly devoted to Canadian interests, more loyal to the Crown and the free insti- tutions under which they live. Sir Etienne Tache gave expres- sion to the settled feeling of his compatriots .vhen he predicted that the last shot for British rule in America would be fired from the citadel of Quebec by a French Canadian. The Nor- man and Breton root from which the Lower Canadians sprang was peculiarly patriotic, almost exclusively so, in a provincial or sectional sens(% in old France ; and they, like the Scot, bi-ought their proud, hardy, and chivalrous nature with them, to Fourth book of reading lessons. 29 dignify and enrich the future of colonial life. The French Canadian, moreover, can boast a thrilling history in *^he Dominion itself, to which the English portion of tlie i)opulation can lay no claim. Quebec has a Valhalla* of departed heroes distinctively its own ; yet still it does not turn its back upon the older France, but lives in the past, inspired by its spirit to work out the problem of a new nationality in its osvn way. There is no more patriotic Canadian than the Frenchman, and he is also the proudest of his origin and race. There is nt^thing, then, to forbid the English-speaking Canadian from revering the country of his fathers, be it England, Scotland, or Ireland ; on the contrary, it may be laid down as a national maxim, tliat the unpatriotic Englishman, Scot, or Irishman, will be sure to prove a very inferior specimen of the Canadian. The Scot ill British North America. thers cam<=' THE SCOT ABROAD. {From '• SpriJig Wild Flowers.") Daniel Wilson, LL.D., Puesident ok Univkksity College, Toronto (b. 1816). Oh, to be in Scotland now, When the mellow autumn smiles So pleasantly on knoll and howe ; t Where from rugged cliff and heathy brow Of each mountain height you look down defiles Golden with the harvest's glow. Oh, to be in the kindly land. Whether mellow autvmn smile or no : It is well if the joyous reaper stand Breast-deep in the yellow corn, sickle in hand ; But I care not though sleety east winds blow. So long as I tread its strand : To be wandering there at will, Be it sunshine, or rain, or its winds that brace; To climb the old lamiliar hill. Of the storied landscape to drink my fill. And look out on the gray old town at its base, And linger a dreamer still ! * III Scandinavian mythology, the ])alace of the houIh of heroes who have fallen in battle. ' f Howe, dell. ill! • i 3C FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Ah ! weep ye not for the dead, Tho dear ones safe in their native earth ; There fond hands pillowed the narrow bed, Where fresh gowans,* star-like, above their head Spangle the turf of each spring's new birth, For the living, loving tread. Ah ! not for them : doubly blest, Safely home, and past all weeping ; Hushed and still, there closely prest Kith to kin, on one mother's breast ; All still, securely, trustfully sleeping. As in their first cradled rest. Weep rather, ay, weep sore. For him who departs to a distant land. There are pleasant homes on the far-oft' sliore ; Friends, too, but not like the friends of yon*, That fondly, but vainly, beckoning stand For him who returns no more. Oh, to lie in Scottish earth. Lapped in the clods of its kindly soil ; Where the soaring laverock's! song has birth In the welkin's blue, and its heavenward mirth Lends a rapture to earth-born toil — What matter ! Death recks not the dearth. THE FIRST SPRING DAY. Chuistina G. Rossetti (b. 1830). I wonder if the sap is stirring yet. If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, If frozen snow-drops feel as yet the sun, And crocus fires are kindling one by one : Sing, robin, sing ! I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring. I wonder if the spring-tide of this year Will bring another spring both lost and dear ; If heart and spirit will find out their spring. Or if the world alone will bud and sing : Sing, hope, to me ! Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory. * Mountain daisy. f Lark's. . V'.r I * i'-i FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. The sap will surely quicken soon or late, The tardiest, bird will twitter to a mate ; So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom, Or in this world, or in the world to come : Sing, voice of Spring ! Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing. 31 SPRING. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Then bursts the song from every leafy glade. The yielding season's bridal serenade ; Then flash the wings returning Summer calls Through the deep arches of her forest halls ; — The blue-bird breathing from his azure plumes The fragrance borrowed where the myrtle blooms ; The thrush, poor wanderer, dropping meekly down, Clad in his renniant of autumnal brown ; The oriole, drifting like a flake of Are, Rent by the whirlwind from a blazing spire; T\w robin, jerking his spasmodic throat, Repeats, imperious, his staccato* note ; The crack-brained bobolink courts his crazy mate. Poised on a bulrush tipsy with his weight ; Nay, in his cage, the lone canary sings. Feels the soft air and spreads his idle wings. Pictures from Ucamoiuil Ptmns (18.50-1850). * Disconnected. 82 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESHONS. ! i^* THE FOUNDING OF GAIT, GUELPH, AND GODERI':!H. John Galt (1779-1839). [Gait, whose tastes were commercial as well as literary, was commissioned by the Canada Company to act as their local manager, and he thus came to reside in Canada from 1824 to 1827. His inclination to literature became more decided after a tour of the Mediterranean, where he made the accpiaintance of Lord Byron; and thenceforward his i)en was kept actively employed. His novels and his " Life of Byron " have run through many editions. His reputation rests chiefly on " The Provost" and " The Annals of the Parish." Gait's brief administration of the Canada Company's vast territory in the }>eninsula of Ui)iier Canada was eminently beneficial and progressive — in- deed, too progressive for the shareholders. Roads were ofiened out, and easy access was afforded to Lake Huron and between the centres of i>opula- tion. Very many of the geographical names in Western and North-Western Ontario were devised by Gait. They chiefly commemorate the names of his friends or of the Company's directors ; but in some cases they were su^ested by home-scenes in Scotland. The village of Ayr and the Irvine River remind us that John Gait was bom at Irvine in Ayrshire.] I directed an inspection by qualified persons of a block or tract of upwards of forty thousand acres of the [Canada] Com- pany's purchase, for the purpose of finding within it an eligible situation for a town. All reports made to me agreed in re- commending the spot where Guelph now stands, and it was fixed upon ; but as it was too early in the year to undertake field operations, and the immigrant season had not commenced, I went to New York to make some necessary arrangements. When the causes which induced me to visit New York were adjusted, I returned to Upper Canada, and gave orders that operations should commence on St. George's day, the 23rd of April [1827]. This was not without design : I was well aware of the boding effect of a little solemnity on the minds of most men, and especially of the unlettered, such as the first class of settlers were likely to be, at eras which Ijetokened destiny, like the launching of a vessel or the birth of an enterprise, of which a horoscope might be cast. The founding of a town was cer- tainly one of these ; and accordingly I appointed a national holy -day for the c(?remony, which secretly I was determined should be so cele})rated as to be held in remembrance, and yet so conducted as to l'»e only apparently and accidentally impressive. In the meantime, as I imagined it would not be difficult to persuade the directors to erect a central officer for the Company there, and as a tavern and hotel were indispensable, I set about procuring plans. Having myself a kind of amateur taste in architectural di'aw- FOURTU BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 33 > GODERI'^H. ■ise, of which )vvn was eor- ctural di'aw- inj?, and being in consequence, from the period of my travels, Jed to adopt as a ^-ule in art that the style of a building should always indicate and be appropriate to its purpose, I thought that the constructing of a city afforded an opportunity co edify posterity in this matter. Accordingly, I under+ook myself to draw the most problematic design of the office ; and gave a house-carpenter instructions to make a plan and elevation for a tavern, delivering to him, like a Sir Oracle, my ideas as to the fitness of indicating by the appearance of the building the particular uses to which it was destined. ISly drawing was of course very classical, but his " beat all," us the Yankees say, "to immortal smash." It represented a t\NO-story common- place house, with a pediment ; but on every corner and cornice, " coigne and vantage," were rows of glasses, bottles, punch-bowls, and wine-decanters ! — such an exhibition as did not require a man to be a god to tell it was an inn. In short, no rule was ever more unequivocally illustrated, and cannot even yet be thought of with sobriety. On the 22nd of April, the day previous to the time appointed for laying the foundations of my projectfid j^oUs, I went to Gait, a town situated on the banks of the Grand River, which my friend the Honorable William Dickson, in whose township it is situated, had named after me, long before the Canada Company was imagined :* it had arrived at the maturity of having a post- office before I heard of its existence. There I met by appoint- ment, at Mr. Dickson's, Dr. Dunlop, who held a roving com- mission in the Canada Company, and was informed that the requisite woodmen were assembled. Next morning we walked after breakfast towards the site which had been selected. The distance was about eighteen miles from Gait, half of it in the forest ; but till we came near the end of the road no accident happened. Scarcely, however, h .d we entered the bush, as the woods are called, when the doct^ i* found he had lost the way. I was excessively angry, for si Ai an acci- dent is no trifle in the woods ; but after wandering up and * As early as 181G, under the direction of the Hon. Wm. Dickson, a settle- ment had been formed by Absalom Shade, Mr. Shade was an active, keen- witted young carpenter from Buffalo, and he became so identified with the young village that it was known for eleven years as Shade's Mills. As soon as the village was allowed postal service, the jiost-oftice was, at Mr Dickson's remiest, ofhcially designated "(ialt," after his early friend and school-mate at Edinburgh; and after Mr. Gait's visit in 1827, the name was adopted for the village as well as for the post-oftice.— See EarJii History of O'alt and the Settlement oj Dumfries, by James Young, M.P. (1880). 3 34 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. down like the two babes, with not even the comfort of a black- berry, the heavens frowning and the surrounding forest sullenly still, we discovered a hut, and " tirling at the pin,"* entered, and found it inhabited by a Dutch shoemaker. We made him understand our lost condition, and induced him/ to set us on the right path. He had been in the French army, and had, after the peace, emigrated to the United States ; thence he had come into Upper Canada, where he bought a lot of land, which, after he had made some betterments, he ex changed for the location in the woods, or. as he said himself, "Je swape the first land for the lot on which I am now settled." With his assistance we reached the skirts of the wild to which we were going, and were informed in the cabin of a squatter that all our men had gone forward. By this time it began to rain ; but, undeterred by that circumstance, we re- sumed our journey in the pathless wcod. About sunset, drip- ping wet, we arrived near the spot we were in quest of — a shanty, which an Indian, who had committed murder, had raised as a refuge for himself. We found the men, under the orders of Mr. Prior, whom I had employed for the Company, kindling a roaring fire ; and after endeavoring to dry ourselves, and having recourse to the store-basket, I proposed to go to the spot chosen for the town. By this time the sun was set, and Dr. Dunlop, with his char- acteristic drollery, having doffed his wet garb and dressed him- self Indian fashion in blankets, we proceeded with Mr. Prior, attended by two woodmen with their axes. It was consistent with my plan to invest our ceremony with a little mystery, the better to make it be remembered. So, intimating that the main body of the men were not to come, we walked to the brow of the neighboring rising ground ; and Mr. Prior having shown the site selected for tlu; town, a large maple-tree was chosen, on which, taking an axe from one of the woodmen, I struck the first stroke. To me, at least, the moment was impressive ; and the silence of the woods that echoed to tlie sound was as tli(; sigh of the solenui genius of the wilder- ness departing for ever. The doctor followed me ; then, if I recollect rightly, Mr. Prior; and the woodmen finished the work. The tree fell with a crash of accumulating thunder, as if ancient Nature were alarmed at * Twirling the handle of the dour-latch. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 36 the entrance of social man into her innocent solitudes, with his sorrows, his follies, and liis crimes. I do not suppose that the sublimity of the occasion was un- felt by the others ; for I noticed that after the tree fell, there was a funereal pause, as when the coffin is lowered into the grave : it was, however, of short duration. The name [Guelph] was chosen in compliment to the Royal Family, both because I thought it auspicious in itself, and be- cause I could not recollect that it had e^•er been before used in all the King's dominions. After the solemnity — for though the ceremony was simple, it may be so denominated — we returned to the shanty ; and the rain, which had been suspended during the performance, began again to pour. It may appear ludicrous to many readers that I look on this incident with gravity, but in truth I am very serious ; for although Guelph is not so situated as ever to become celebrated for foreign commerce, the location possesses many advantages, independent of being situated on a tongue of land surrounded by a clear and rapid stream. In planning the city — for I shall still dignify it by that title, though applied at lirst in derision — I had, like the lawyers in establishing their fees, an eye to futurity in the magnitude of the parts. A beautiful central hill was reserved for the Catholics, in compliment to my friend Bishop Macdonell, for his advice in the formation of the Company ; the centre of a rising gi'ound, destined to be a square hereafter, was appro- piiated to the Episcopal Church for Archdeacon Strachan ; and another rising ground was reserved for the Presbyterians. Education is a subject so important to a community that it obtained my earliest attention ; and accordingly, in planting tlu^ town, I stipulated that the half of the price of the build- ing sites should be appropriated to endow a school, undertaking that the Company in the lirst instance should sustain the ex- pense of the building, and ))e gradually repaid by th(! sale of thc! town lots. The school-house was thus among the iirst buildings undertaken to draw settlers. The works and the roads soon drew from all parts a greater influx of inhabitants than was expected, insomuch that the rise of the town far surpassed my hopes. Before the foundations of the town were laid, land was valued by the magistrates, in quarter sessions, at one shilling and 86 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. tlirc'epence per acre, and tlie s(;ttled townships around at three- fourths of a dollar. When I left the place, th(! lowest rate of land sold was fifteen shillings ; and the price in the neighbor- in <,' townships was estimated at ttjn shillings. WluMi I liad ettl'ctually set the operations for tlui Canada (Company agoing at (jruelph, 1 retui'ned to York [Toronto], and took into consideration a step to which the Company was phulged to the puhlic and the (jlovernment. Among the induccjnients held out to obtain the reserves at a mod(;rate price, was the vast advantages which would arista to the Province from having an opulent Company intt^rested in promoting its improvement. One of the most obvious modes of accomplishing this was, as it appeared to me, to receive pay- m(!nts in produce, and to undertake the sale of it on consign- nuuit. By an arrangemiait contemplated, in the event of the directors agreeing to this, I conceived that the connnissions on th(! consignments of wheat would defray all the official expenses, and a stimulus would be given to the prosperity of the Province, which would soon compensate the country for all the profit that might be drawn from it in consequence of the Company's speculation. Accordingly, having settled a plan for carry- ing the business into effect, and ascertained what would be the most convenient points to have receiving-houses established, I endeavored to ffnd vvhether it would be necessary to erect stores or to rent them. In my inquiries, I found that by far the most eligible situa- tion for the purj)0se of erecting a central store was on the banks of a canal which the Government was excavating through a narrow neck of land, to open Burlington Bay into Lake Ontario. It occurred to me, when my attention was drawn to this situa- tion, that the land would be soon occupied, and although still in the hands of the Government, would not be allowed to remain long so. I therefore determined to make an application for a grant to the Company of this valuable and most eligible site. The business admitting of no delay, I made the solicitation for the grant, and explained in my letter the purpose for »vhich it was solicited, — namely, to erect stores, etc., for the reception of produce. The letter was sent in to the Government office, and the grant was made without delay. I think it was for three acres ; — much the most valuable spot in the whole Province. It fronted FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 37 ^e acres tlie canal ; on the right it had Burlington Bay, and on the left Lake Ontario : a more convenient spot for any commercial jnir- pose in a new country could not he chosen. It gave me un- speakahle pleasure to have obtained for the Company so great a hoon, and I expressed to the directors my satisfaction at th<' liberal treatment of the Government ; it was not necessary to he more particular. Af'-^r staying some time on official business at York, I went to Guelph to inspect the improvements, of which I had appointed Mr. Prior the overseer and manager, and was gratified at the condition of everything. While there I received a visit from Bishop Macdonell and the Provincial Insj)ector-General ; and when they had left me, otlier friends from Edinburgh, with ladies, came also in, for the works being on a great scale were now becoming objects of curiosity. Not being restricted in any means which could be employed in the country, I certainly did indulge myself in the rapidity of creation. The glory of Guelph was unparalleled ; but, like all earthly glories, it was destined to pass away. It consisted of a glade opened through the forest, about seven miles in length, up- wards of one hundred and thirty feet in width, forming an avenue, with trees on each side far exceeding in height the most stupendous in England. The high road to the town lay along the middle of this Babylonian approach,* which was cut so wide as to admit the sun and air, and was intended to be fenced of the usual breadth, the price of the land contiguous to be such as to defray the expense of the clearing. But the imagination forbears when it would attempt to depict tlie magnificent effect of tlie golden sun shining through the colossal vista of smoke and flames ; the woodmen dimly seen moving in the "palpable obscure,"! with their axes glancing along in the distance. By doing speedily and collectively works which in detail would not have been remarkable, these superb effects were obtained. They brought "to home" the wandering emigrants, gave them employment, and by the wonder at their greatness, inagniiied the importance of the improvements. This gigantic vision did not cost much more than the publication of a novel. It lad been clearly understood as an inducement to Govern- * Refertnce to the artificial vistas and " hanging gardens " of Babylon, f Th" (n station is from Milton's " Paradise Lost, book ii., line 406. 38 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. mont to soil thn resorvos to tho Company, th it the Province was to hr; /greatly l»enotitt'(l l>y itn oporatioiiH, and that it was not to 1)0 a nuu'o land-jobbing concern. I thcroforo estimated the exp(Miditur(% one thing with another, ecjual to the price of the land ; and I received a paper of calculations made by the gentleman who actt^l in my absence, l)y which he showed him- self of the same opinion. But without this consideration, there were circumstances in the state of the times by which the shares of all joint-stock companies were affected. Nevertheless, though I was, to use a familiar figure, only building the house that was afterwards to produce a rental, it was said my expen- diture had tended to lower the Company's stock — in short, the echo of th(; rumor that I had heard of the directors' disapproval before any account of my proceedings could have reached London ; and to crown all, I was ordered to change the name from Gu(dph to Goderich. In reply, I endeavor(;d to justify what had been done ; and as the name could not be altered, I called another town, founded about this time at Lake Huron, by the name of his lordship. But instead of giving any satisfaction, my letters of justifica- tion drew a more decisive conflemnation of the name Guelph. Th(? manner in which the second disapproval was couched set me athinking ; and, laying dillerent things together, I drew the conclusion that there was somewhere a disposition to effect my recall. That, I knew, could be done without assigning any reason ; but it was a step that required a pretext to take, and therefore I determined to make a stand. Strictly according to rule and law, I wrote back that the name of t'^ place was not a thing that I cared two straws about ; but as it had been the scene of legal transactions, it was nec- essary to get an Act of the Provincial Parliament before the change could be made, and that therefore if the court would send me the preamble for a Bill, I would lose no time in apply- ing for it. I heard, however, nothing more on the subject, and thus a most contemptible controversy ended ; but I cannot yet imagine how a number of grave and most intelligent merchants ever troubled their heads about such a matter. Ik FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 39 'ft""x« any DOWN UPON THE GREEN EARTH. Chahlek Mackay (b. 1814). Five hundred years the royal tree Has waved in the woods his branches free ; But king no longer shall he stand, To cast his shadow o'er the land ; The hour has come when he must die : Down upon the green earth let liim lie ! No more heneath his spreading boughs Shall lovers breathe their tender vows ; No more with early fondness mark Their names upon his crinkled bark. 40 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Or idly dream and softly sigh : Down upon the green earth let him lie ! The lightning stroke has o'er him passed, And never harmed him first or last ; But mine are strokes more sure, I trust, To lay his forehead in the dust ; My hatchet falls — the splinters fly : Down upon the green earth let him lie ! But yet, although I smite him down, And cast to earth his forest crown, The good old tree shall live again, To plough deep furrows o'er the main. And flaunt his pennant to the sky : Down upon the green earth let him lie ! Full-breasted to the favoring breeze, He shall be monarch of the seas. And bear our Britain's triumphs far In calm or tempest, peace or war ; 'Tis but to live that he must die : Down upon the green earth let him lie ! IN WINDSOR FOREST. Alexander Pope (1G88-1744). [Tlie British oaks shall go on their mission of commerce to the far distant l*^ast, and bring back the products of its woods and seas and mines.] Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into thy floods ; Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, To the bright regions of the rising day ; Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, Where cleai'er flames glow round the frozen pole ; Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Led by new stars and borne by spicy gales ! For me the balm shall bleed, and ambor flow. The coral redden, and the ruby glow. The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, And Phu'bus warm the ripening ore to gold. Windsor Forest, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 41 THE UNWRITTEN HISTORY OF OUR FOREFATHERS. Rev. James Mackenzie. The history of the oarly Britons, though it was never writ- ten, may be read. A curious history it is ; and the way in wliicli tlie materials of 't have been gatliered .ind put togetlier is a tine example of the triumphs of patient thoucrht. The historian of other periods finds his materials in books, in writ- ten records and documents. The materials for the history of this period have been found on waste moors and in deep mosses, in caves and on hills, under ancient burial mounds and cairns, by the margins of rivers and in the beds of drained lochs. Here, for instance, is an ancient boat, found a few years since on the south bank of the Clyde, when excavations were being made for the purj)ose of enlarging the harbor of (Glasgow. It is of oak, not ])lanked or built, but hewn out of the trunk of a tree. The hollow has been made with tire, as the marks snigle 42 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. still show. Within it, when it was discovered, there lay an axe-head of stone. Now, that fire-hollowed boat and stone axe tell their story as })lainly as a printed book. The savage on the shores of the Pacific cuts a groove in the bark round the root of the tree of which he intends to form his canoe. Into this groove he puts burning embers till it is charred to some depth. Next he deepens the groove by hewing out the charred wood with his stone hatchet. Then he applies the fire again ; and so on, until, by the alternate use of fire and axe, the tree is brought to the ground. By the same process it is hollowed out, and shf ped into a canoe. The ancient boat-maker of the Clyde had used exactly such a method of forming his little vessel. The stone axe, brought to light after untold ages, bears mute but expressive witness that its owner was a savage. The axe with which the ancient Briton hollowed his canoe, served him also as a weapon in battle. Under a large cairn, on a moor in the south of Scotland, a stone coffin of very rude workmanship was found. It contained the skeleton of a man of uncommon size. One of the arms had l>een almost severed from the shoul- der. A fragment of very hard stone was sticking in the shattered bone. • ^^^'-'^ "S» • That blow had been struck with I stone axe. When the victor, after th«^ fight, looked at his bloody weapon, he saAv that a splinter had broken from its edge. Thousands of years passed, the cjiirn of the dead was opened, and that splinter was found in the bone of the once mighty arm which the axe had all but hewn away. What a curious tale to be told by a single splinter of stone ! On yonder lea field the i)loughman turns over the grassy sward. At the furrow's end, as he breathes his horses for a moment and looks at his work, his eye is caught by some object sticking in the upturned mould. He picks it up. It is a barbed arrow-head, neatly chipped out of yellow flint. How came it there? It is no elf-arrow, shot by the fairies. It was once, when tied to a reed with a sinew or a strip of skin, an arrow in the quiver of an ai lent British savage hunting the deer. There are spots where the flint arrow-heads have l)een found in such numbers as to show that the barbarian tribes had met STCNE AXES, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 43 there in battle. Spear-heads, too, and knives of flint, have been dug up from time to time in various parts. The ancient race who employed such weapons must have existed before tlie use of iron, or any other metal, was known. That period when the rude inhal)itants of a country were ignorant of metals, and formed their tools and weapons of stone, is called the Stone Period. Had this ancient race any idea of religion and a future state? We shall see. Here is an earthen mound, heaped over the grave of some chief. When dug into, it is found to contain a rude stone coffin. In the cofl^in with the skeleton are flint arrow-heads, a spear-head, also of flint, and perhaps the stone lioad of a battle-axe, the wooden portions of these weapons hav- ing long since mouldered away. Now we know that the savage expects to go after death to tlie happy hunting-grounds, and to follow again the war-path. His implements of war and the chase are therefore buried with him, that he may start up fully equipped in the new state of boing. His favorite horse or dog, and perhaps his favorite attendants, are laid beside his grave, that at his rising he may appear in a manner fitting his rank. The contents of the burial- mound unmistakably proclaim that the men of these long-for- gotten ages had the same rude idea of a future state which the Rod Indian still has. In all probability, this ancient race occupied the country, with unchanging habits and witli little or no progress, for many centuries. At length, however, the elements of a great change were introduced : the savage tribes became acquainted with the use of metals. Tlie introduction of metals is the first great stage in the history of civilization. Armed with an axe of metal, instead of tho old axe of stone, the savage can go into the forest and cut down trees at will. He can split them, and hew them into planks. He needs not now to pile up overlapping blocks of ston(! to roof in his dark, under-ground abode. He can make a much more convenient dwelling of rough, axe-hewn boards. He needs not now to hollow out a log-canoe, for his new tools have given him the power of building boats of plank. He can now increase the size of his little vessel, and thus make further and bolder ventures out to sea. Tlie trees nearest liis village fall first by his axe ; but, year by year, he cuts his way deeper into the forest. Tlie clearings extend, and the soil, 44 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. which will be corn-land by-and-hy, is laid open. He now can form a variety of tools suited to a variety of purposes. New wants are created with the increased facility of meeting them. In a word, with the introduction of metal among a savage race, stationary till then, the march of improvement has begun. The discovery of copper, silver, and gold naturally takes place before the discovery of iron. The smelting of iron is an art much too difficult for the savage to master, till he has been long familiar with the working of the softer and easier metals. Accordingly, we find that the earliest metallic implements used in Britain were not of iron, but of bronze. Copper and tin are soft metals ; but if a portion of tin is mixed with copper, the result is bronze, a metal harder than either of the two of which it is composed. Tools and weapons made of this metal are a great advance upon those made of stone or flint. Bronze, however, is but a poor substitute for iron and steel, and we may be very sure that the people who made use of bronze tools knew nothing of iron. That period during which the ancient inhabitants of a country, ignorant as yet of iron, made use of bronze tools and weapons, is called the Bronze Period. Let us again suppose ourselves present at the opening of an ancient British tomb. It is under a caim heaped on the top of a hill which overlooks a wide tract of moorland. The stone coffin is very short — not over four feet in length. From tlie position of the bones, the body has evidently been placed in a sitting or folded posture. There are cups or bowls of pot- tery. There is a bronze sword, but it has been broken in two before it was laid beside its owner in his long rest. And what is that which glitters among the warrior's dust? It IS an ornament of gold — a bracelet or a coHar — which he had worn. The skeleton of a dog is found beside the coffin ; for the warrior know hunting-craft by lake and wood, and loved to pursue his game with liound and bow. So they laid his four- footed favorite, which had licked his hand and followed his halloo, in his long home beside him. Now observe the cup or boWl, which has contained drink or food — fi'iendship's last gift to the dead. This cup is very different from the unshapely hand-made and sun-dried pottery of the Stone Period. It has been rounded on a wheel. It is made of fine baked clay, and is neatly ornamented with a FOURTH book Op BEADING LESSONS. 46 simple pattern. There has been progress, then, in the mechani- cal arts since the ruder and older time. liCt the broken sword next tell its story. The last honor paid to the buried warrior was to break his sword and lay it beside him, ere his companions-in-arms piled over him the memorial cairn. The warrior of the Stone^ Period was buried with axe, lance, and bow, in barbarian anticipation of warfare beyond the grave ; but the warrior of the Bronze Period was laid in his narrow bed with his broken sword, in token of war- fare accomplished and of expected rest. This speaks in no obscure language of some better and higher ideas wliich thi? ancient race had acquired. TOM BOWLING. Charles Dibdin (1745-1814). Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew ; No more he'll hear the tempest howling, . For Death has broached him to. His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft ; Faithful below he did his duty, But now he's gone aloft. Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare ; His friends were many and true-hearted. His Poll was kind and fair : And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly ; Ah, raany's the time and oft ! But mirth is turned to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft. Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, When He who all commands Shall give, to call life's crew together. The word to pipe all hands. Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches, In vain Tom's lifi; has doli'ed ; For though his body 's under hatches, His soul is gone aloft. 46 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. JlSi ' TO THE LADT CHABLOTTE RAWDON. From the Banks of the St. Lawrence [180/f\. Thomas Moore (1779-1852), I dreamt not then that, ere the rolling year Had filled its circle, I should wander here In musing awe ; should tread this wondrous world, See all its store of inland waters hurled In one vast volume down Niagara's steep, Or calm behold them, in transparent sleep, Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed ; Should trace the grand Cadaraqui, and glide Down the white rapids of his lordly tide Through massy woods, 'mid islets flowering fair, And blooming glades, where the first sinful pair For consolation might have weeping trod. When banished from the garden of their God. But lo ! — the last tints of the west decline, And night falls dewy o'er these banks of pine. Among the reeds, in which our idle boat Is rocked to rest, the wind's complaining note Dies like a half-breathed whispering of flutes ; Along the wave the gleaming porpoise shoots. And I can trace him, like a watery star, Down the steep current, till he fades afar Amid the foaming breakers' silvery light, Wheie yon rough rapids sparkle through the night. Here, as along this shadowy bank I stray, And the smooth glass snake, gliding o'er my way, Shows the dim moonlight through his scaly form. Fancy, with all the scene's enchantment warm, Hoars in the murmur of the nightly breeze Some Indian spirit warble words like these : — * From the land beyond the sea, Whither huppy spiritw flee — * Observe here the transition from the iambic to the trochaic movement, and the change from iientameters to tetrameters. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 47 Where, transformed to sacred doves,*. Many a blessed Indian roves Through the air, on wing as white As those wondrous stones of light t Which the eye of morning counts On the Apallachian mounts — Hither oft my flight I take Over Huron's lucid lake, Where the wave, as clear as dew, Sleeps beneath the light canoe. Which, reflected, floating there. Looks as if it hung in air. | Then, when I have strayed a while Through the Manataulin isle, Breathing all its holy bloom. Swift I mount me on the plume Of my Wakon-bird, § and fly Where, beneath a burning sky, O'er the bed of Erie's lake Slumbers many a water-snake. Wrapt within the web of leaves Which the water-lily weaves. Next I chase the flow'ret-king Through his rosy realm of Spring ; See him now, while diamond hues Soft his neck and wings suffuse. In the leafy chalice sink, Thirsting for his balmy drink ; Now behold him all on fire, Lovely in his looks of ire, Breakiiig every infant stem, Scattering every velvet gem, Where his little tyrant lip Had not found enough to sip. * " The departed spirit goes into the Laud of Souls, wlicre, according to some, it is t msformed into a dove." — Chahlkhoix. f The mountains aj>i)eared to be spiinkled with white stones, which glistened in the sun, and were called by the Indians "spirit stones."— Si u Alkx. Mackenzie : Journal. X Moore tells us that this picture, was suggested by a passage in Carver's Travels (1778). § A mythical bird described in such terms as to stiggcst the bird of paradise. 1 !, 48 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. • Then my playful hand I steep Where the gold-thread* loves to creep, Cull from thence a tangled wreath, Words of magic round it bieathe, And the sunny chaplet spread O'er the sleeping fly-bird's head, Till, with dreams of honey blest, Haunted, in his downy nest, By the garden's fairest spells, Dewy buds and fragrant bells, Fancy all his soul embowers In the fly-bird's heaven of flowers. Oft, when hoar and silvery flakes Melt along the ruftied lakes, When the gray moose sheds his horns, When the track, at evening, warns Weary hunters of the way To the wigwam's cheering ray ; Then, aloft through freezing air. With the snow-bird soft and fair As the fleece that heaven flings O'er his little pearly wings, Light above the rocks 1 play. Where Niagara's starry spray. Frozen on the cliff, appears Like a giant's starting tears. There, amid the island-sedge, Just upon the cataract's edge, Where the foot of living man Never trod since time began, Lone I sit, at close of day ; While, beneath the golden ray, Icy columns gleam below, Feathered round with falling snow, And an arch of glory springs, Sparkling as the chain of rings Round the neck of virgins hung, — Virgins who have wandered young O'er the waters of the west To the land where spirits rest ! * Gold-thread (Coptis trifnlia), a spreading marsh plant abundant in Canada. Its roots consist of long bright yellow fibres. Uik^ FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESHONS. 40 abundant in HEREWAUD, THE ENGLISH OUTLAW. John Lingabi> (1771-1851). [After the victory of Senlac, William marched toward London, where the VVitan had chosen Edgar the ^-Etheling as King. On the Duke's apjiroach, the chief sumtorters of Edgar fied ; and William was crowned King of England on Christmas Day. Not, however, till five years later was he master of England. Dunng these five years there were rei)eated disturb- ances in different parts of the country, caused by the efforts of the English to rid themselves of the Norman yoke. In 10(J7, during the absence of William in Normandy, there were revolts in the east, the west, and the north — the last under the Earls Edwin and Morcar, brothers-in-law of Harold, the late King. In the following year, the King of Denmark landed in York- shire, and was joined by the English exiles in Scotland, headed by Edgar tlie iEtheling. The insurgents seized York. In 10(59, William got rid of the Danes by buying them off. He then retook York, drove the English northward, and laid waste the country between the Ouse and the Tyne. Thereafter the country was quiet till 1071.] In 1071 the embers of civil war were again rekindled by the jealousy of William. During the late disturbance Edwin and Morcar had cautiously abstained from any communication with the insurgents. But if their conduct was unexceptionable, their influence was judged dangerous. In them the natives beheld the present hope, and the future liberators, of their country ; and the King judged it expedient to allay his own apprehensions by securing their persons. The attempt was made in vain. Edwin concealed himself ; solicited aid from the friends of his family ; and, eluding the vigilance of the Nor- mans, endeavored to escape towards the borders of Scotland. Unfortunately, the secret of his route was betrayed by three of his vassals : the temporary swell of a rivulet from the influx of the tide intercepted his flight, and he fell, with twenty of his faithful adherents, fighting against his pursueis. The traitors presented his head to William, who rewarded their services with a sentence of perpetual banishment. The fate of lis brother Morcar was different. He fled to the protection of Hereward, who had presumed to rear the banner of indepnnd- ence amidst the fens and morasses of Cambridgeshire. The memory of Hereward was long dear to the people of England. The recital of his exploits gratified their vanity and resentment ; and traditionary songs transmitted his fame to succeeding generations. His father, the lord of Dorn in Lin- colnshire, unable to restrain the turbulence of his temper, had obtained an order for his banishment from Edward the Con- fessor ; and the exile had earned in foreign countries the praise I 60 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. of a hardy and fearless warrior. He was in Flanders at the period of the Conquest ; but when he heard that his father was dead, and that his mother had been dispossessed of the lordship of Born by a foreigner, he returned in haste, collected the vassals of the family, and drove the Norman from his paternal estates. The fame of the exploit increased the number of his followers : every man anxious to avenge his own wrongs, or the wrongs of his country, hastened to the standard of Hereward ', a fortress of wood was erected in the Isle of Ely for the protec- tion of their treasures ; and a small band of outlaws, instigated by revenge, and emboldened by despair, set at defiance the whole power of the Conqueror. Hereward, with several of his followers, had received the sword of knighthood from his uncle Brand, abbot of Peter- borough. Brand died before the close of the year 1069; and William gave the abbey to Turold, a foreign monk, who, with a guard of one hundred and sixty horsemen, proceeded to take possession. He had already reached Stamford, when Hereward resolved to plunder the monastery. Tlie Danes, who had passed the winter in the Humber, were now in the Wash ; and Sbern, their leader, consented to join the outlaws. The town of Peterborough was burned ; the monks were dispersed ; the treasures which they had concealed were discovered ; and the abbey was given to the flames. Hereward retired to his asylum. Sbern sailed towards Denmark. To remove these importunate enenries, Turold purchased the services of Ivo Tailbois, to whom the Conqueror had given the district of Hoyland. Confident of success, the abbot and the Norman commenced the expedition with a numerous body of cavalry. But nothing could elude the vigilance of Hereward. As Tailbois entered one side of a thick wood, the chieftain issued from the other, darted unexpectedly upon Turold, and carried him off with several other Normans, whom he confined in damp and unwholesome dungeons, till the sum of two thousand pounds had been paid for their ransom. For a while the pride of William disdained to notice the efforts of Hereward ; but when Morcar and most of the exiles from Scotland had joined that chieftain, prudence compelled him to crush the hydra before it could grow to maturity. He stationed his fleet in the Wash, with orders to observe every outlet from the fens to the ocean : by land he distributed his forces in such manner as to render escape almost impossible. Sti ret in FOURTH BOOK OF READtNO LESSONS. 51 Still the great difficulty remained — to reach tlie enemy, wlio had retired to their fortress, situated in an expanse of water which in the narrowest part was more than two miles in breadth. The King undertook to construct a solid road across the marshes, and to throw bridges over the channels of the rivers ; a work of considerable labor and of equal danger, in the face of a vigilant and enterprising enemy. Hereward frequently dispersed the workmen ; and his attacks were so sudden, so incessant, and so destructive, that the Normans attributed his success to the assistance of Satan. At the instigation of Tail- bois, William had the weakness to employ a sorceress, who was expected, by the superior efficacy of her spells, to defeat those of the English magicians. She was placed in a wooden turret at the head of the work ; but Hereward, who had watched his opportunity, set fire to the dry reeds in the neighborhood ; the wind rapidly spread the conflagration, and the enchantress with her gourds, the turret with the workmen, were enveloped and consumed in the flames. These checks might irritate the King ; they could not divert him from his purpose. In defiance of every obstacle, the work advanced : it was evident that in a few days the Normans would be in possession of the island, and the gr(;ater part of the outlaws voluntarily submitted to the royal mercy. Their fate was different. Of some he accepted the ransom ; a few suffered death ; many lost an eye, a hand, or a foot ; and several, among whom were Morcar and the Bishop of Durham, were condemned to perpetual imprisonment. Hereward alone could not brook the idea of submission. He escaped across the marshes, concealed himself in the woods, and as soon as the royal army had retired, resumed hostilities against the enemy. But the King, who had learned to respect his valor, was not averse to a reconciliation. The chieftain took the oath of allegiance, and was permitted to enjoy in peace the patrimony of his ancestors. Hereward was the last Englishman who had drawn the sword in the cause of inde- pendence. Histwy of Etujland. 52 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, THE SKT-LAEK. Jameh Hckjg, the Ettuick Shephekd (1770 1835). Bird of the wilderness Blithesome and cumberless,* Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea ! Emblem of ha})piness, Blest is thy dwelling-place — O to abide in tlie desert with thee ! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud ; Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying] Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, ^^--^ Over the cloudlet dim, j?^^ Over the rainbow's rim, ^^^^. Musical cherub, soar, singing away ! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms. Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place — O to abide in the desert with thee ! * Morry and free from care. __._s _^ FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 63 a -■-i-*-'i. * - •^ A' ^ ■* SKETCHES IN THE NORTH-WEST. Major W. F, Butlkb. fin April 1870, new8 reached Captain Butler of an expeditionary force nre- naring under Colonel Wolweley aguinHt Kiel and the inaloontentH of Ked kiver. Immediately taking steamer across the Atlantic, ho proceeded to Toronto, and by the good offices of Colonel Wolseley he was given a snecial mission to Winniiwjg by way of Lake Superior and St. Paul, while the exi)edition was making its way through the trackless wilderness that then lay between Fort William and Fort CJarry.J 1. On Lake Superior. Before turning our steps westward from this inland ocean, Lake Superior, it will be well to paus(! a moment on its shore and look out over its bosom. It is worth looking at, for the world possesses not its equal. Four hundred English miles in length, one hundred and fifty miles in breadth, six hundred feet abov(« Atlantic level, nine hundred feet in depth; one vast spring of purest crystal water, so cold that during summer months its waters are like ice itself, and so clear that hundreds of feet below the surface the rocks stand out as distinctly as though seen through plate-glass. Follow in fancy the outpourings of this wonderful basin ; seek its future course in Huron, Erie, and Ontario — in that wild leap from the^rocky ledge which makes Niagara famous through the world. Seek it farther still — in the quiet loveliness of the Thousand Isles, in the whirl and sweep of the Cedar Rapids, in the silent rush of the great current under the rocks at the foot of Quebec. Ay, and even farther away still — down where the lone Laurentian Hills come forth to look again upon that water whose earliest begin- nings they cradled along the shores of Lake Superior. There, close to the sounding billows of the Atlantic, two thousand miles from Superior, these hills — the only ones that ever last — guard the great gate by which the St. Lawrence seeks the sea. There are rivers whose currents, running red with the silt and mud of their soft alluvial shores, carry far into the ocean the record of their muddy progress ; but this glorious river system, through its many lakes and various names, is ever the same crystal current, flowing pure from the fountain-head of Lake Superior. Great cities stud its shores ; but they are powerless to dim the transparency of its waters. Steam-ships cover the broad bosom of its lakes and estuaries ; V)ut they change not the beauty of the water, no more than the fleets of ^^ FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 55 It 'lii'i t I ill H Si At u 39 -I o the world mark the waves of tlie ocean. Any person looking at a map of the region bounding tlie great lakes of North America will l»e struck l)y the absence of rivers flowing into Lakes Superior, Michigan, or Huron, from the south — in fact, the drainage of the States l)ordering these lakes on the south is altogether carried off by the valley of the Mississippi. It fol- lows that tins valle3y of the Mississippi is at a much lower level than the surface of the lakes. These lakes, containing an area of some seventy-three thousand square miles, are therefoi-e an immense reservoir held high over the level of the great JMissis- sippi valley, from which they are separated by a barrier of slight elevation and extent. 2. At the Foimtain of the Red River. The Red River — let us trace it while we wait the coming captain who is to navigate us down its tortuous channel. Close to the Lake Itaska, in which the great River Mississippi takes its rise, there is a small sheet of water known as Elbow Lake. Here, at an elevation of one thousand six hundred and eighty- nine feet above the sea levej. nine feet liigher than the source of the Mississippi, the Red River has its birth. It is curious that the primary direction of both rivers should be in courses diametrically opposite to their after-lines — the Mississipj^i first running to the north, and the Red River first bending to the south. In fact, it is oidy when the latter gets down here, near the Breckenridge Prairies, that it finally determines to seek a northern outlet to the ocean. Meeting the cuiTent of the Bois- des-Sioux, which has its source in Lac Travers, in which the Minnesota River, a triljutary of the Mississippi, also takes its rise, the Red River hurries on into the level prairie, and soon commences its immense windings. This Lac Travers disi'harges in wet seasons north and south, and is the only sheet of water on the C'-ntinent which sheds its waters into the tropics of the Gulf of Mexico and into the Polar ocean of the Hudson Bay. In former times the whole system of rivers born the sandy ]>each. ' i 'le shore yielded large store of drift-wood, the relics of ma^iy a northern gale. Behind us lay a trackless forest ; in front, the golden glory of the western sky. As the night shades deepened around us, and the red glare of our drift- wood fire cast its light upon the ^"oods and the rocks, the scene became one of rare beauty. 4. Working up the Winnipeg River, The river in its course from the Lake of the Woods to Lake Winnipeg, one hundred ai.d sixty miles, makes a descent of three hundred and sixty feet. This descent is effected, not by a continuous decline, but by a series of terraces at various distances from each other; in other words, the river forms innumeral)le lakes and wide expanding reaches, bound together by rapids and perpendicular falls of varying altitude : thus when the voyageur has lifted his cance from the foot of the Silver Falls, and launched it again above th^ head of that rapid, he will have surmounted two-and-twenty feet of the ascent ; again, the dreaded Seven Portages will give him a total rise of sixty feet in a distance of three miles. (How cold does the bare narration of these facts appear beside their actual realization in a small canoe manned by Indians !) Let us see if we can picture one of these many scenes: — There sounds ahead a roar of falling water, and we see, upon rounding some pine-clad island or ledge of rock, a tumbling mass of foam and spray studded with projecting rocks and flanked by dark wooded shores : above we can see nothing ; but below, the waters, mad- dened by their wild rush amidst the rocks, surge and leap in angry wliirlpools. It is as wild a scene of crag and wood and water as th(^ eye can gaze upon ; but we look upon it not for its beauty, because there is no time for that, but because it is an enemy that nmst be conquered. Now mark how these L FOURTH BOOK OF READINO LESSONS. 59 J high over t; but still sail moved [h our tiny ■ the world, v^as time to deep sandy d to invite amid tlie boa^ ujjon :1 rift-wood, a trackless ^ As the our drift- the scene s to Lake lescent of 'cted, not rraces at >rds, the ^ reaches, - varying from the th^ head J feet of ve him a low cold ir actual 3t us see sounds iig some Jam and wooded rs, mad- leap in :>od and not for ise it is v' these Indians steal upon this enemy before he is aware of it. The } immense volume of water, escaping from the eddies and wlurl- i pools at the foot of the fall, rushes on in a majestic sweep into calmer water. Tliis rush produces along the shores of the river a counter or back- current, which flows up sometimes close to the foot of the fail. Along this back-water the canoe is carefully steered, being often not six feet from the opposing rush in the central riv(^r ; but the back-current in turn ends in a whirlpool, and the canoe, if it followed this back-current, would inevitably ™ end in the same place. For a minut(^ there is no i)addling, the ■ liow paddle and the steersman alone keeping the l>oat in Ium- proper direction as she drifts rapidly up the current. Amongst the crew not a word is spoken, but every man knows what he has to do, and will l)e ready when the moment comes: and now the moment has come ; for on one side there foams along a mad surge of water, and on the other the angry whirlpool twists and turns in smooth green hollowing curves round an axis of air, whirling round it with a strength that would snap our birch- bark into fragments, and suck us down into great ciepths below. All that can be gpaned by the back-current has been gained, and now it is time to quit it ; but where 1 for there is often only the choice of the whirlpool or the central river. Just on the very edge of the eddy there is one loud shout given by the bow paddle, and the canoe shoots full into the centre of the boiling flood, driven by the united strength of the entire crew. The men work for their very lives, and the boat breasts across the river -.vith her head turned full toward the falls; the waters foam and dash about her, the waves leap high over the gunwale,* the Indians shout as they dip their paddles like lightning into the foam, and the stranger to such a scene holds his breath amidst this war of man against nature. Ha ! the struggle' is useless, they cannot force her against such a torrent — we are close to the rocks and the foam ; but see, she is driven down by tlie current in spite of those wild fast .strokes. The dead strength of such a rushing flood must prevail. Yes, it is true, the canoe has been driven back ; but behold, almost in a second the whole thing is done — we float suddenly beneath a little rocky isle on the foot of the cataract. W(^ have crossed the river in the face of the fall, and the portage-landing is over this rock, while three yjtrds out on either side the toi-i'«*nt foams its headlong course. Of the skill necessary to perform such things * Gunwale, pr. gun-nl. n} iiii 60 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. it is useless to speak. A single false stroke, and the whole thing would hav(; failed ; driven headlong down the torrent, another attempt would have to be made to gain this rock-pro- tected spot : but now we lie secure here ; spray all around us, for the rush of the; river is on either side, and you can touch it with an outstretched paddle. The Indians rest on their paddles and laugh ; their- long hair has escaped from its fastening through their exertion, and they retie it wdiile they rest. One is already standing upon the wet, slippery rock, holding the canoe in its place, then the others get out. The freight is carried up piece by piece, and deposited on the flat surface some ten feet al)Ove ; that done, the canoe is lifted out very gently, for a single blow against this hard granite l)Oulder would shiver and splinter the frail birch-bark co\'ering ; they raise her very carefully up the steej) face of the cliff, and rest again on the top. 5. The Great North-West. And now let us turn our glance to this great North-West, wnither my wandering steps are about to lead me. Fully nine hundred miles as bird would fly, and one thousand two hundred as horse can travel, west of Red River, an immense range of mountains, eternally capped with snow, rises in rugged masses from a vast stream-scarred plain. They who first beheld these grand guardians of the central prairies named them the Mon- tagues des Roehers [Rocky Mountains], — a fitting title for such vast" accumulation of rugged magnificence. From the glaciers and ice-valleys of this great range of mountains innumerable streams descend into the plains. For a time they wander, as if heedless of direction, through groves and glados and green-spread- ing declivities; then, assuming greater fixity of purpose, the\ gatlu^r up many a wandering rill, and start eastward upon a long journey. At length the many detached streams resolve them- seKcs into two great water systems. Through hundreds of miles these two rivers pursue their parallel courses, now ajiproaching, now opening out from each other. Suddenly the southern rivt>r l)ends towards tlu^ north, and, at a point some i\v.<. hundred miles from tlu^ mountains, pours its volume of water into the northern clumnel. Then the united river rolls, in vast, majestic curves, steairtli. ^1 and vale, hillside, is shores the this Kissas- the great Mountains, "ig prairie- iicl many a es into its which lies oods of the ►ugh wliich 'ti tell the ure? The 'h century of Vorra- geograpliy s of large erica was d far into ih-coveted f Cathay. e descrip- ontinejit; seek t]ie ocean is in-ranges 'at ocean praiiie- rface of ind pale fe! Ko sunsets, prairie ; 1 of the le stars 'lost as it to it, and men have come and gone, leaving behind them no track, no vestige of their presence. Some French writer, speaking of these prairies, has said that the sense of this utter negation of life, this complete absence of history, has struck him with a loneliness oppressive and sometimes terrible in its intensity. Perhaps so ; but, for my part, the prairies had nothing terrible in their aspect, nothing oppressive in their loneliness. One saw here the world as it had taken shape and form from the hands of the Creator. Nor did the scene look less beautiful because nature alone tilled the earth, and the unaided sun brought forth the flowers. October had reached its latest week, the wild geese and swans had taken their long flight to the south, and their wailing cry no more descended through the darkness ; ice had settled upon the quiet pools, and was settling upon the quick-running streams; the horizon glowed at night with the red light of moving prairie fires. It was the close of the Indian Summer, and Winter was coming quickly down from his far northern home. Great Lone Land (9th ed., 1879). lili FROM "THE HUNTER OF THE PRAIRIES." William Cullen Buyant. Ay, this is freedom ! — these pure skies Were never stained with village smoke : The fragrant wind, that through them flies, Is breathed from wastes by plough unbroke. Here, with my rifle and my steed. And her who left the world for me, I plant me, where the red deer feed In the green desert — and am free. Broad are the streams — my steed obeys. Plunges, and bears me through the tide. Wide are these woods — I thread the maze Of giant stems, nor ask a guide. I hunt till day's last glinnner dies O'er woody vale and grassy height ; And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at niglit. • j k r. All lit; 1 64 FOURTH BOOK OF ItEADlNG LFSHONH. THE BISON TRACK. Jameh Bayaiid Taylou (1825-1878). Strike the tent ! the sun has risen ; not a vapor streaks the dawn, And tlu! frosted prairie brightens to the westward, far and wan: Prime afresli th j trusty rifle, sharpen well the hunting-speai', For the frozen sod is trembling and a noise of hoofs I hear I Fiercely stamp the tethered horses, as they snuff the morning's lin>, Their impatient heads are tossing as they ncngh with keen desire. Strike tlu; tent! tlu; saddles wait us, let the bridle reins })e slack. For the prairie's distant thunder has betrayed the bisons' track. S(ie! a dusky line approaches — hark ! the onward surging roar, Like tlie din of wintry breakers on a sounding wall of shoie ! Dust and sand behind them whii-ling, snort theforemostof the van, And thtiir stubborn horns are clashing through the crowded caravan. Now the storm is down upon us ! let the maddened horses go ! We shall ride the living whirlwind, thougli a hundred leagues it blow — Though the cloudy manes should thicken, and the red eyes' angry glare liighten round us as we gallop through the sand and rushing air. jMyriad hoofs will scar the prairie, in our wild, resistless race. And a sound, like mighty waters, thunder down the desert space; Yet the rein may not be tightened, nor the I'ider's eye look back — Death to him whose speed should slacken on the maddened bisons' track ! Now the trampling herds arc; threaded, and the chase is close and warm For the giant bull that gallops in the edges of the storm : Swiftly hurl the whizzing lasso ; swing your rifles as we run. See, the dust is red behind him ! shout, my conn'ades, he is won! Look not on him as he staggers — 'tis the last shot he will need ; More shall fall among his fellows ere we run the mad stampede, Ere we stem the brinded bi'eakers,* while the wolves, a hungry pack. Howl around each grim-eyed carcass on the bloody bison track. * Another reading i.s " swavthy breakers," "Brinded," older form of brindled: cf. Macbeth, iv. 1, " brinded cat." V^'. FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 66 'aks the dawn, I, fill- and w an : iitin^^-spcai', ^f« I Iicar ! niorninijf s firo, h keen desire. i'<'ins be slack, bisons' track. S11 rising roar, II of sliore ! ostof the van, tlie crowded 1 horses go ! dred leagues le red eyes' rushing air. tless race, esert space; look back — maddened tso is close 3rni : we run. lie is won ! ^vill need ; •stampede, wolves, a son track, til" foiiii of THREE CAITIFFS-THE WOLF, THE LYNX, THE WILD CAT* The wolf is a true citizen of the world, — he is found every- where; and, like most other "citizens of the world," he is a worthless citizen everywhere. He exists in assorted sizes — from the three-foot i)rairie wolf to the great seven-foot Arctic wolf ; and in assorted colors — white, gray, dusky, black, rufous. Among Canadian pioneers, the gray wolf and the small gregari- ous wolf of the prairies — often called cayote t after the Mexican name — are best known, though never favoraljly known. In qualities the whole wolf clan are alike : strong and sinewy, ll('(it-footed, gaunt, greedy, merciless, cowardly, very valorous when there are overwhelming odds against their poor victim — say, in either numbers or strength, a hundred to one — then, loud-mouthed, these jackals of the prairies will beset an aged and weary buffalo that has strayed from the line of march, and pull down the old monarch of the prairies ; they have been even known to attack a sick bear ! Their inroads upon herds and sheep-folds are sometimes horrifying. A single wolf has been known to kill as many as forty sheep in a single night, seem- ingly from mere bloodthirstiness. * Chiefly based upon "Camp Life in the Woods," by W. Hamilton Gib.son (1881). + Cayote, pr. as dissyllable, ki-ote'. The true form is the Spanish coyote (trisyllable), derived from Mexican coyctl. 5 '•III if' lift A VP»\ 66 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LEHSONS. \ .' The two other marauders whoso likoiicssos we have placed in the " rogues' gallery " belong to the Cat tribe. The Canadian lynx — known also among us as the; " peshoo," le chat, and loup cervier — ranges from the Arctic Circle down to the edges of our Great Lakes and to the Maine frontier ; so that Canada enjoys an almost complete monopoly of this species of CANADIAN LYNX. lynx. The long bristle-pointed ears are characteristic. In winter it wears a heavy overcoat of clouded-gray fur ; its fur boots are then of such portentous size that lynx-tracks in the snow may easily be mistaken for the foot-prints of the great black bear. Though not more than three feet long, the lynx is a dangerous foe at close quarters. It is a keen sportsman, strong, active, a good climber and swimmer. Its running is very effective, but by no means graceful — indeed, wholly ludicrous — a rapid succession of bounds with arched back, and all feet striking the ground together. The lynx makes its home in the depths of the unbroken forest, where it feeds sumptuously on grouse and rabbits, with an occasional course of venison. If game is scarce, the lynx condescends to the pioneer's humbler fare, and makes a very tolerable meal on courses of lamb, pork, and fowl. By many naturalists the wild cat is believed to be the ancestor of the domestic animal that so faithfully reproduces the caterwaulings of the primeval forest. In appearance as FOUltTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 67 well as voic(i tho resemblance is striking — the chief distinotion consisting in the «(reater size of the wild cat and in its short l)ushy tail. In tin; typical wild cat a row of dark streaks and spots (,'xtends along the spine, and th(^ tail is thick, short, and husliy, tipped with black and encircled by a number of dark rnigs. mmmmm^^^& THE WILD CAT. The amount of havoc which these creatures occasion is surprising, and their nocturnal inroads, in poultry -yards and sheep-folds, render them most hated pests to farmers. They seem to have a special appetite for the heculs of fowls, and will often decapitate half a dozen in a single night, leaving the bodies in otherwise good condition to tell the story of their midnight murders. The home of the wild cat is made in some cleft of rock, or in the hollow of some old tree, from which the creature issues in the dark hours, and starts upon its maraud- ing excursions with the stealthy step that is observed in its domestic relative. Of these three marauders the wolf is much the n.ost difficult to entrap ; for he is almost as cunning and suspicious as his cousin Reynard. He can, however, be outwitted. A large double-spring trap is used, variously disguised, and so placed under water or on land that the wolf has to walk across the trap in order to reach the bait. The odor of the human hand or the flavor of tobacco is sufficient warning to the sagacious ■n 11 1' ill I 68 FOURTH BOOR OF READING LESSONS. wolf. Gloves should always be worn in handling the traps, and all tracks obliterated. Many sly old trappers overpower their personal characteristics by rubbing the trap with the fragrant leaves of the skunk-cabbage, and by anointing their l)Oot-soles with oil of assafwitida ! The lynx and the wild cat are entrapped with much less difficulty than the wolf. There is a very common and erroneous idea current among amateur sportsmen, that the pan of the trap is intended for the; bait. It was so used in bygone days ; but no modern trap is intended to be so misused. The ob- ject of the profes- sional trappc^r is the acquisition of furs, and a prime fur skin should be without break or bruise from nose to tail. The pan is intended for theybo^ of the game, and the bait should be so placed as to draw away the attention of the animal from the trap. In tlie V-shaped pen, often used, the bait is suspended above the trap. A spring pole is often added, wliich, when released from its notch by the struggles of the captured animal, hoists trap and captive together into the air. This has the double effect of securing the captive from the attacks of other animals, and of saving it from self-nmtilation ; for many kinds of game, — notably the mink, marten, and musk-rat, — will deliberately amputate a leg in order to etfeci their escape. V-SHAPED PEN. Strips'' ^'''>, THE CAYOTE, OR PRAIRIE WOLF Mauk Twain (Samuel Lanuhoune Clemens), b. 1835. [Mr. Olimien.s' assmnod nanio was evidently stipgested by his jtilot e.\|MMn- eiices of th(3 Mississij>]ii, and hy his accpiaintance with tlie divisiuua of the .sounding-lino, of which "mark twain" denotes two fathoms.] The cayote is a long, slim, sick-and-sorry-looking skeleton with a gray wolf-skin sti-clchcd over it, a tolerably bushy tail that for ever sags down with a lU'spairing expression of for- FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 69 sakenness and misery, a furtive and evil eye, and a long, sharp face, with slightly lifted lip and exposed teeth. He has a general slinking expression all over. The en ote is a li\"ing, breathing allegory of Want. He is always hungry. He is always poor, out of luck, and friendless. The meanest creatures despise him, and even the fleas would desert him for a veloci- pede. He is so spiritless and cowardly, that even while his exposed teeth are pretending a threat, the rest of his face is ajiologizing for it. And he is so homely ; so scrawny, and rihhy, and coarse-haired, and pitiful ! When he sees you, he lifts his lip and lets a flash of his teeth out, and then turns a little out of the course he was pursuing, depresses his head a hit, and .strikes a long, soft-footed trot through the sage-brush, glancing over his shoulder at you from time to time, till he is about out of easy pistol-range, and then he stops, and takes a deliberate survey of you. He will trot fifty yards, and stop again ; another fifty, and stop again ; and finally, the gray of his gliding body blends with the gray of the sage-brush, and he disappears. If you start a swift-footed dog after him, you will enjoy it ever so much — especially if the dog be one that has a good opinion of liimself, and has Iteen brought up to think that he knows something about speed. The cayote will go swinging gently off on that deceitful trot of his, and every little while he r, ill smile a fiaudful smile over his shoulder that will fill that dog entirely full of encouragement and worldly ambition, and make him lay his head still lower to the ground, and stretch his neck further to the front, and pant more fiercely, and move his furious legs with a yet wilder frenzy, and leave a broader and ])roader and higher and denser cloud of desert sand smoking behind, and marking his long wake across the level plain 1 All tliis time the dog is only a short twenty feet l)ehind the cayote, and, to save the life of him, he cannot understand why it is that he cannot get ])erceptibly closer ; and he begins to get aggravated, and it makes him madder and madder to see how gently the cayote glides along, and never pants or .sweats, or ceases to smile ; and he grows still more and more incensed to see how shamefully lu; has been taken in ])y an entire stranger, and what an ignoble swindle that long, calm, soft- footed trot is. And iHwt, the dog notices that he is getting fagwd, and that the cayote actually has to slacken speed a little, to kerp from :l| m m H il\( mH Mi' 70 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. running away from him. And then that town-dog is mad in earnest, and he begins to strain, and weep, and swear, and paw the sand higher tlian ever, and reacli for the cayote with con- centrated and desperate energy. This spurt lincls him six feet behind the gliding enemy, an • two miles from liis friends. And then, in the instant that a wild new hope is lighting up his face, the cayote turns and smiles blandly upon him once more, and with a something about it which seems to say : " Well, I shall have to tear myself away from you ; for business is bus- inciss, and it will not do for me to l)e fooling along this way all day." And forthwith there is a rushing sound, and the sudden splitting of a long crack through the atmosphere ; and behold, that dog is solitary and alone in the midst of a vast solitude ! It makes his head swim. He stops, and looks all around ; climbs the nearest sand-mound, and gazes into the distance ; shakes his head reflectively, and then, without a word, he turns and jogs along back to his train, and takes up a humble posi- tion under the hindmost waggon, and feels unspeakably mean, and looks ashamed, and hangs his tail at half-mast for a week. And for as much as a year after that, whenever there is a great hue and cry after a cayote, that dog will merely glance in that direction without emotion, and apparently observe to himself, " I }>elieve I do not wish any of the pie." Roughing It, chap. v. THE COYOTE. F. Bret Harte (b. 1830). Blown out of the prairie in twilight and dew, Tfalf bold and half timid, yet lazy all through ; Loath ever to leave, and yet fearful to stay, He limps in the clearing, — an outcast in gray. A sliade on the stubble, a ghost by the wall. Now letping, now limping, now risking a fall, Lop-ear(;d and large-jointed, but ovov alway A thoroughly vagabond outcast in gray. Here, Carlo, old follow, — he's one of your kind, — Go, seek him, and bring him in out of the wind. What ! snarling, my Carlo ! So — e\'en dogs may Deny their own kin in the outcast in gray. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 71 TOMMY TRADDLES. Charles Dickens (1812-1870). [Tommy was a school-mate of David Copperfield at " Salem House," as Mr. Creakle named his school.] Poor Tracldles ! In a tight sky-blue suit, that made his arms and legs like German sausages or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned — I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday, when he was only ruler'd on botli liands — and was always going to write to liis uncle about it, and never did. After laying his liead on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in draw- ing skeletons, and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn't last for ever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy and didn't want any features. He was very honorable, Traddles was, and held it as a solemn duty in the boys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several occasions ; and particularly once, when Steer- forth laughed in church, and the beadle thoup;ht it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now, going away in custody, despised by the congregation. He never said who was the real ofTender, though he smarted for it next day, and was imprisoned so many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyardful of skeletons swarming all over his Latin Dictionary. But he had his reward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddles, and we all felt that to be the highest praise. I'or my part I could have gone through a good deal (tliough I was much lens brave than Traddles, and nothing like so old) to have won such a recompense. [Years afterwards, David meets Traddles in London, and finds him a shy, steady, bnt agreeable and good-nature^d young man, with a comic head of liair, and eyes i-athor wide open, which gave him a suriiriHed look, not to say a hoiu'th-broomy kind of expression. He is reading for the bar, and fight- hig his way on iu the world against dirticulties.] "You were brought up by an uncle?" said I. " Of course I was," said Traddles. The one 1 was always going to write to. And always didn't, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! Yes, I had an uncle then. He died v(»n\ after I left school." i!l ^■i| I? Mt= W I 72 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. "Indeed!" "Yes. He was a retired — what do you call it? — draper — cloth-merchant — and had made me his heir. But he didn't like me when I grew up." "Do you really mean that?" said I. He was so composed that I fancied he must have some other meaning. " Oh dear, yes, Copperlield ! I mean it, ' replied Traddles. " It was an unfortunate thing, but he didn't like me at all. He said I wasn't at all what he expected; and so he married his housekeeper." "And what did you do?" I asked. " I didn't do anytliing in particular," said Traddles. " 1 lived with them, waiting to be put out in the world, until his gout unfortunately flow to his stomach ; and so he died, and so she marri(^d a young man, and so I wasn't provided for." "Did you get nothing, Traddles, after all?" " Oh dear, yes !" said Traddles. " I got fifty pounds, I had never been l^rought up to any profession, and at first I was at a loss what to do for myself. However, I began, with the assistance of the son of a professional man, to copy law writings. That didn't answer very well ; and then I began to s'^te cases for them, and make abstracts, and do that sort of work, for I am a plodding kind of fellow Well, that put it in my head to enter myself as a law-student ; and that ran away with all that was left of the fifty pounds. Yawler recommended me to one or two other offices, however — Mr. \Vaterl)rook's for one — and I got a good many joljs. I was fortunate enough, too, to be- come acquainted with a person in the publishing way, who was getting up an Encyclopfedia, and he set me to work ; and. in- deed" (glancing at liis table), " I am al work for him at this minute. I am not a bad compiler, Copperfield." said Traddles, preserving the same air of cheerful confidence in all he said ; "but I have no invention at all, not a particle. I suppose there never was a young man with less originality than I have." As Traddles seemed to expect that I should assent to this as a matter of course, T nodded ; and he went on with the same sprightly patience — I can find no better expression — as before. David Copperfield {lSiQ~50). \L^. FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 73 J- — draper — didn't like composed Traddles. tall. He larried his "I lived his gout ^d so she '■ I had I was at rt^ith the ^vritings. 'te cases for I am head to all that ' to one le — and to be- 'ho was md. in- at this addles, e said ; appose have, " this as same 9fore. >-50). THE HEAD AND THE HEART J. G. Saxe (b. 1816). The head is stately, calm, and wise, And bears a princely part ; And down below in secret lies The warm, impulsive heart. The lordly head that sits above, The heart that l)eats ])elow. Their several office plainly prove, Their true relation show. The head, erect, serene, and cool, Endowed with reason's art, Was set aloft to guide and rule The throbbing, wayward heart. And from the head, as from the higher, Comes every glorious thought ; ^Jid in the heart's transforming tire All noble deeds are wrought. Yet each is best when both unite To make the man complete ; — What were the heat without the light ? The light, without the heat ? Poem (1859). FRIENDSHIP. Shakspearb. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of stoel ; But do not dull thy pahn with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfl'''^'<5ed comrade. Neither a borrower nor . "ender bo : For loan oft loses both it. iind friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all : — to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Hamlet, i. 3. ' \ Wh ' rj 4^1 ;■? 74 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LECSONS. OLD ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL. David Masson (b. 1822). London was at that time by no means ill provided with schools. Besides various schools of minor note, there were some distinguished as classical seminaries. Notable among these was St. Paul's School in St. Paul's Churchyard, a suc- cessor of the old Cathedral School of St. Paul's, which had ex- isted in the same place from time immemorial. Not less cele- l»rated was Westminster School, founded anew by Elizabeth in continuation of an older monastic school which had existed in Catholic times. Ben Jonson, George Herbert, and Giles Flet- cher, all then alive, had been educated at this school ; and the great Camden, after serving in it as under-master, had held the office of head-master since 1592. Then there was St. Anthony's Free School in Threadneedle Street, where Sir Thomas More and Archbishop Whitgift had been educated — once so flourish- ing that, at the public debates in logic and grammar between the different schools of the city, St. Anthony's scholars gener- ally carried off the palm. In particular there was a feud on this score between the St. Paul's boys and the St. Anthony's boys : the St. Paul's boys nicknaming their rivals " Anthony's pigs," in allusion to the pig which was generally represented as following this saint in his pictures ; and the St. Anthony's boys somewhat feebly retaliating by calling the St. Paul's boys "Paul's pigeons," in allusion to the pigeons that used to hover about the cathedral. Though the nicknames survived, the feud was now little more than a tradition — St. Anthony's school having come sorely down in the world, while the pigeons of St. Paul's fluttered higher than ever. Partly on account of its nearness to Bread Street, St. Paul's School was that chosen by the scrivener for the education of his son."*" The records of the admissions to the school do not roach so far back as the beginning of the seventeenth century, l>ut the date of Milton's admission cannot have been later thon IG'20, when he was in or just over his twelfth year. The school was founded in 1512, the fourth year of the reign of Henry VJTI., by Dr. John Colet, Dean of St. Paul's, the son of Sir Henry Colet, mercer, who had been twice Mayor of London. Tlie declared purpose of the foundation was the free education, * John Milton was the son of a scrivcnor, or law penman. one Ij referel laud pose liandsl siilarij^ and a| No school king plLil ^ided with ;here were We among ^rd, a suc- ch liad ex- t Jess cele- !izal)eth in existed in jiles Flet- ; and tlie 1 Iield tlie Anthony's nas More ) flourish- ' between irs gener- t feud on .nthony's nthony's rented as ly's boys il's boys to hover the feud s school ?eons of ^. Paul's ation of I do not century, er thpn '■ school Henry of Sir 'Ondon. cation, FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. (6 in all sound Christian and grammatical learning, of poor men's children, without distinction of nation, to the exact number of one hundred and fifty-three at a time — this number having reference to the number of fishes which Sin^on Peter drew to land in the miraculous draught (John xxi. 11). For this pur- pose Colet, besides building and furnishing the school in a very handsome manner, endowed it with lands sufficient to provide salaries in perpetuity for a head-master, a sur-master or usher, and a chaplain. No cock-fighting or other pageantry was to be allowed in the school ; no extra holidays were to be granted, except when the king or some bishop in person begged one for the boys ; and if any boy was taken away and sent to anothei- school, he was not on any account to l)e readmitted. The original school -house remained with little alteration either in the exterior or in the interior. The interior was divided into two parts — a vestWiihim, or ante-room, in which the smaller boys were instructed, and the main school-room. Over the door of this school-room on the outside was a legend to the effect that no more than one hundred and fifty-thr'^e were to be instructed in it gratis ; and painted on the glash> oi each window inside, were [in Latin] the formidable words: "Either teach, or learn, or leave the place." For the head- master there was a "decent cath'edra or chaii " at the upper end of the school, facing the door and a little advanced from the wall ; and in the wall, immediately over this chair, so as to ]>e full in the view of all the pupils, was an " effigies " * or bust of Dean Colet, regarded as a masterpiece of art. The under- master or usher had no particular seat, but walked up and down among the classes, taking them all in turn with his superior. There were in all eight classes. In ""'le first or lowest the younger pupils were taught their rudiments ; and thence, ac- cording to their proficiency, they were at stated times advanced into the other forms till they reached the eighth; whence, " being commonly by this time made perfect grammarians, good orators and poets, and well instructed in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and sometimes in other Oriental tongues," they passed to the universities. The curriculum of the school extended over from four to six years ; the age of entry being from eight to twehe, and that of departure from fourteen to eighteen. From the moment that Milton became a " pigeon " of St. * Pronounce as four syllables, with final long. iltf Hi M ' !l >! I'l 76 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 1 Paul's, all this would be familiar to him, The school-room, its walls, and windows, and inscriptions ; the head-master's chair ; the bust of Colet over it, looking down on the busy young flock gathered together by his deed and scheming a hundred years after he was dead ; the >)usy young flock itself, ranged out in their eight forms, and filling the room with their ceaseless hum ; the head-master and the sur-master walking about in their gowns, and occasionally perhaps the two surveyors from the mercers dropping in to see, — what man of any memory is there who does not know tliat this would impress the boy unspeak- ably, and sink into him so as never to be forgotten ? From the Account in the *' Life of Milton,*^ chap. iii. BILL IS A BRIGHT BOY. John Stuart Blackie (b. 1819). Bill is a bright boy, Do you know Bill 1 Marching cheerily, Up and down hill ; Bill is a bright boy At l)ooks and at play, A right and a tight boy. All the boys say. His face is like roses In flush of the June ; His eyes like the welkin When cloudless the noon ; His step is like fountains That bicker with glee, Beneath the green mountains Down to the sea. When Bill plays at cricket, No ball on the green Is shot from the wicket So sharp and so clean ; ol-room, its iter's chair ; young flock idred years ngecl out in seless hum ; it in their from the )ry is there y unspeak- 3hai 1. HI. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, He stands at his station As strong as a king When he lifts up a nation On victory's wing. When, bent upon study, He girds to his books, No frown ever ploughs The smooth pride of his looks ; I came, and I saw. And I conquered at will — This be the law 77 Fo great Caesar and Bill. Lik^ Thvjr with the hammer Of power in his hand. He r' les through the grammar Triumphant and grand ; C r bastions of brambles, Which pedants up-pile, He leaps, and he ambles Along with a smile. a \\i As mild as a maiden Where mildness belongs, He 's hot as Achilles When goaded by wrongs : He flirts with a danger. He spirts with an ill ; To fear such a stranger Is brave-hearted Bill. For Bill is a bright boy, Who is like Bill? Oft have I marched with him Up and down hill. When I hear his voice calling I follow him still ; And, standing or falling, I conquer with Bill ! o> ,m i i it; i i m ■ ' If ' 78 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. A BEAVER COLONY. The American Beaver {Castor canadensis) extends over that part of the American continent included between the Arctic Circle and the Tropic of Cancer. Owing, however, to the gradual spread of population over part of this area, and still more to the enormous number of skins that, towaids the (^nd of last century and the beginning of the present, were ex- ported to Europe, — about two hundred thousand annually, — this species was in imminent danger of extirpation. More recently, the employment of silk and of the fur of the (South American coypu in the manufacture of hats, so lessened the demand for beaver skins that the trapping of these animals became unprofitable ; and having been little sought after for many years, they have again become abundant in such of their old haunts as have not yet been occupied by man. Solitary beav(^rs, always males, and known as " old bachelors," or idlers, are found inhabiting burrows similar to those seen in Europe. These are generally found in the neighborhood of new townships, and are su])posed to be individuals that have remained after the colony had broken up, or that from some cause or another have been expelled from the society of their fellows. Tlie American beaver, however, is essentially social, inhal)iting lakes, ponds, and rivers, as well as those narrow creeks which connect the lakes together. They gener- FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 70 'i 'ver tiiat e Arctic to the aiid still the (!ncl verc ex- ually, — More B South ned the animals t after in such •y man. helors," se seen )or}iood Is that 't from society ntially those gener- ally, however, prefer flowing waters; prohahly on account of the advantages afibrded ])y the current for transporting the materials of their dwellings. Tlu^y also prefer deepish water, no doubt because it yields a better protection from the frost. When they build in small creeks or rivers, the waters of which are liable to dry up or to be drained off*, instinct leads them to the formation of dams. These differ in shape, according to the nature of particular localities. Where the water has little motion the dam is almost straight ; where the current is con- siderable it is curved, with its convexity towards the stream. The materials made use of are drift-wood, green willows, birch, and poplars ; also mud and stones intermixed in such a manner as nmst evidently contribute to the strength of the dam ; l)ut there is no particular method observed, except that the work is carried on with a regular sweep, and that all the parts are made of equal strength. "In places," says Hearne, "which have been long frequented by beavers undisturbed, their dams, by frequent repairing, become a solid bank, capable of resisting a great force both of ice and water ; and as the willow, poi)hu-, and birch generally take root and shoot up, they by degrees form a kind of regular planted hedge, which I have seen in some places so tall that birds have built their nests among the branches." Their houses are formed of the same materials as the dams, with little order or regularity of structure, and seldom contain more than four old and six or eight young l)eavers. It not unfrequently happens that some of the larger houses have one or more partitions ; but these are only posts of the main building, left by the sagacity of the builders to support the roof, for the apartments, as some call them, have usually no communication with each other except by water. The beavers carry the mud and stones with their fore-paws, and the timber between their teeth. They always work in the night, and with great expedition. They covca- tlieii- houses late every autumn with fresh mud, whicli freezing as the frost sets in, becomes almost as hard as stone, and thus neither wolves nor wolverines can disturb their well-earned repose. The favorite food of the American beaver is the plant called Nitphar luteum (yellow pond-lily) which bears a re- semblance to a cabbage stalk, and grows at the bottom of lakes and rivers. They also gnaw the bark of birch, poplar, and willow trees. But during the bright summer days which clothe even the far northern regions with a luxuriant vegeta- i "'H t 7"*'' ! ^^ • 1 ■ :.||i III 80 FOURTH BOOK OF UK A DING LESSONS. tion, a more varied horl)a<:^(i witli tlie addition of berri(!S is con- sumed. When the ice hn^aks up in sprin*^, they always leave their embankments and rove about until a little before the fall of the leaf, when they return again to their old habitations, and lay in their winter stock of wood. They seldom begin to repair the houses till the frost sets in, and never finish the outer coating till the cold becomes pretty severe. When they erect a new habitation, they fell the wood early in summer, but seldom begin building till towards the end of August. EncyclopiBdia Britannica, 9th ed. (1875). STANZAS. P. B. Shelley (1792-1822). And on the stream whose inconstant bosom Was pranked under boughs of eml)owering blossom, With golden and green light slanting through Their heaven of many a tangled hue, Broad water-lilies lay tremulously, And starry river-buds glimmered by ; And around them the soft stream did glide and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance. And the sinuous paths of lawn and of moss Which led through the garden along and across, Some open at once to the sun and the breeze, Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees, Were all paved with daisies and asphodel bells As fair as the fabulous asphodels, And flowerets which, drooping as day drooped too, Fell into pavilions, white, purph^, and blue, To roof the glow-worm from the evening dew. And from this undefiled paradise The flowers (as an infant's awakening eyes Smile on its mother, whose singing sweet Can first lull and at last must awaken it). When heaven's blithe winds had unfolded them, As mine-lai ps enkindle a hidden gem, Shone smiling to heaven, and every one Shared joy in the light of the gentle sun. Sensitive Plant, xi.-xvi. (Written in 1820.) 11 FOURTH liUOK OF READING LEiHSONH. 81 !f( OLD FUR-TRADINO NABOSa Washinuton Ikvino (1783- ia59). To put an end to sordid and ruinous contontions, several of tho j)rincipal niercluints of Montreal entered into a partner- ship in the ■winter of 17^<3, which was augmented l»y aninl^'a- inatiun with a rival Company in 1787. Tlius was created (he famous " North-West Company," which for a time lu'ld a lordly sway over tlie wintry lakes and boundless forests of the Canadas, almost equal to that of the East India Com|)any over the volujjtuous climes and magnificent realms of the Orient. The Comjtany consisted of twenty-three shareholders, or })artners, l)Ut held in its employ about two thousand persons as cleiks, guides, intcjrpreters, and royayeurs or boatmen. These were distriljutcd at various trading-posts, established far and wide on the interior lakes and rivers, at immensi- distances from one another, and in the heart of trackless countries and savage tribes. Several of the partners resided in Montreal and Quebec to manage the main concerns of the Company. These were called agents, and were personages of great weight and importance. The other partners took their stations at the interior posts, where they remained throughout the winter to superintend the intercourse with the various tribes of Indians. They were thence called wintering partners. The goods destined for this wide and wandering traffic were put up at the warehouses of the Company in Montreal, and conveyed in batteaux, or boats and canoes, up the river A tt a w a o» Ottawa, which falls into the St. Lawience near Montreal, and by other rivers and portages to Lake Nipissing, Lake Huron, Lake Superior, and thence, by several chains of great and small lakes, to Lake Winnipeg, Lake Athabasca, and the Oreat Slave Lake. This singular and beautiful system of inter- nal seas, which i-enders an immense region of wilderness so accessible to the frail bark of the Indian or tlie trader, was studded by the remote posts of the Company, where they carried on their traffic with the surrounding tribes. The Company, as we have shown, wv at tirst a spontaneous association of merchants; but after t had been regularly organized, admission into it became - xtremely difficult, A candidate had to enter, as it w^ere, " before the mast " — to 6 •f ■'•*- 'Ml, - H? 1 !U ii i ■ ■ 82 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. undergo a long probation, and to rise slowly by his merits and services. He began at an early age as clerk, and served an apprenticeship of seven years, for which he received one hundred pounds sterling, was maintained at the expense of the Company, and furnished with suitable clothing and equipments. His probation was generally passed at the interior trading- posts ; removed for years from civilized soci(;ty, leading a lifa almost as wild and precarious as the savages around him ; exposed to th(3 severities of a northern winter, often suft'ering from a scarcity of food, and sometimes destitute for a long time of both bread and salt. When his apprenticeship had expired, he received a salary according to his deserts, varying from eighty to one hundred and sixty pounds sterling, and was now eligible to the great object of his ambition — a partnership in the Company ; though years might yet elapse before he attained to that enviable station. Most of the chirks were young men of good families, from the Highlands of Scotland, characterized by the perseverance, thrift, and fidelity of their country, and fitted by their native hardihood to encounter the rigorous climate of the north, and to endure the trials and privations of their lot ; though it must not be concealed that the constitutions of many of them became impaired by the hardships of the wilderness, and their stomachs injured by occasional famishing, and especially by the want of bread and salt. Now and then, at an interval of years, they were permitted to come down on a visit to the establishment at Montreal, to recruit their health, and to have a taste of civil- ized life ; and these were brilliant spots in their existence. As to the principal partnei's, or agents, who resided at Mon- treal and Quebec, they formed a kind of commercial aristocracy, living in lordly and hospitable style. Their early associations, when clerks at the remote trading-posts, and tlie pleasures, dangers, adventures, and mishaps which they had shared to- gether in their wild-wood life, had linked them heartily to one another, so that they formed a convivial fraternity. Few tra- vellers that visited Canada some thirty years since [Irving wrote in 18ii")], in tlu^ days of the M'Tavishes, the M'Cillivrays, the M'Keuzics, the Frobishers, and the other magnates of the North- West, when the Company was in all its glory, l>ut nnist remember the round of feasting and revelry kept up jimimg these hyperborean nabobs. ►Sometimes one or two i)artners recently from the inti^ior pn FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 83 •its and rved an ^ed one e of the pments. trading- U a lif^ rodigality, such as was often to be noticed in former times in ►Soutliern planters and West India Creoles, when flush with the profits of tluiir plantations. To behold the North-West Company in all its state and grandeur, however, it was necessary to witness an .annual gathering at the great interior place of Conference, established at Fort William, near what is called the Grand Portage, on Lake Superior. Here two or three of the kjading partners frouj Montreal proceeded once a year to meet the partners from the various trading-posts of the wilderness, to discuss the alfairs of the Company during the preceding year, and to arrange plans for the future. On these occasions might be seen the change since the un- ceremonious times of the okl French traders : now the aristo- cratical character of the Briton shone forth magnificently, or rather the feudal spirit of the Highlander, Every partner who had charge of an interior post, and a score of rt^tainers at his command, felt like the cliieftain of a Highland clan, and vv^as ah)iost as important in the eyes of his dependants as of himself. To him a visit to the grand Conference at Fort William was a most important exent, and he repaired there as to a meeting of Parliament. Tlie partners from Montreal, however, were tht; lords of the ascendant ; coming from the midst of luxurious and ostentatious life, thev (juitt; eclipsed their compc^ers from the woods, whose; forms and faces liad been liattered and liardened by hard living and hard service, and wIkaso garments and equi[)mentH wen* all the worse for wvuv. Indeed, (he partners from lielow con- sidered the wliole dignity of the Co!H[>any as ri'presented in their persons, and conducted themsi'lves in suitable style. They ascended the rivers in great state, like sovereigns making a progress ; or ratlier, like Highland chieftahis navigating Oieir subji^c't, lakes. They were wrapped in rich fui's, their huge canoes freighted with every convenience and luxury, and mann«d by Caiiadif-n voyageurs, as obedient as Highland clansmen. sfl ill Kkiii 84 FOURTH BOOK oF READING LESSONS. They carried up with them cooks and bakers, together with delicacies of every kind, and abundance of choice wines for the banquets which attended this great convocation. Hai)py were they, too, if they could meet with some distinguished stranger, above all, some titled member of the British nobility, to accom- pany them on this stately occasion and grace tlieir high s()l(Mnnities, Fort William, the scene of this important ann'ial meeting, was a considerable village on the banks of LaAe Superior. Here, in an immense wood(;n building, was the great council- hall, as also the bancjuciting- chamber, decorated with Indian arms and accoutrements, and the trophies of the fur trade. The house swarmed at this time with traders and voyageurs; some from Montreal, bound to the interior posts ; some from the interior posts, bound to INIontrcal, The councils were held in great state, for (ivery member felt as if sitting in Parliament, and every retainer and dc^pendant looked up to the assemblage with awe, as to the House of Lords. There was a vast deal of solemn dc'lil;eration and hard Scottish reasoning, with an occasional swidl of i)ompous declamation. These grave and weighty councils were alternated by huge feasts and revels, like some of the old feasts described in Highland castles. The tables in the gn!at bant^ueting-room groan 1 under the weight of game of all kinds, of \enison from the oods, and fish from the lakes, with hunters' delicacies, such as buffaloes' tongues and beavers* tails, and various luxuries from Montreal, all served up by experienced cooks brought up for the purpose. There was no stint of generous wine, for it was a hard-drinking l)eriod, a time of loyal toasts, and bacchanalian songs, and Ijrimming bumj)ers. While the chiefs thus re\ riled in the hall, and made the rafters resound with 1)ursts of loyalty and old Scottish songs, chant(>d in voices cracked and shat-pened by the northern blast, their merriment was echocid and prolonged by a mongrel legion of n^tainers, Canadian xoyagcui's, half-breeds, Indian hunters, and vagabond liangrrs-on, who ffasted sumptuously without on the crumbs that fell from tjieir tabl«>, and made the welkin ring with old French ditties, mingled with Indian yelps and veilings. Such was the Korth West Company in its powerful and jH'osperous days, when it lidd a kind of feudal away over a vast domain of lake and forest. We are dwi'Uing too long, perhaps. III er with ; for the py were tranger, 3 acconi- lir high iieeting, luperior. couiicil- Inclian r trade. y^ageiirs; ne from ere held liaiiient, .einblage ast deal with an ave and /els, like ps. The weight 1 from ;ongues ['eal, all lurpose. k and Ir inking 'g'S rafters ■luint(^d st, their 'ion of rs, and out on welkin ps and [Ui and r a vast )erhaps, i I ill AN OM» TKAPrSR. I 86 FOURTH Bo.n OF }:ead:nt/ lesions. upon these individual pict\n 's end-.^ar ^d to us by the associations of early life, when, as yet a stnpliug youth, we liave sat at the hospitable boards of the " mighty North-Westers," the lords of the ascendant at Montreal, and gazed with wondering and in- experienced eye at the baronial was'^ailing, and listened with astonished ear to their tales of hardships and adventures. It is one object of our task, lioweve.-, to present scenes of the rough life of the wilderness, and we are tempted to fix these few memorials of a transient state of things fast passing into oblivion ; for the feudal state of Fort William is at an end, its council-chamber is silent and deserted, its banquet-hall no longer echoes to the burst of loyalty or the " auld warld " ditty, the lords of the lakes and forests have passed away, and the hospitable magnates of Montreal — where are they ? Astoria (183(J), chap. i. • STREAM DESCENDING." A. H. Clough U«19-1861). O stream desoending to the sea Thy mossy ])anks between ! The flow'rei^s blow, the gnusses grow, Thy leafy trees are green. In garden plots the children play, The fields tlie laborers till, And houses stand on either liand, And thou descendest still. O life descending into death ! Our waking eyes behold, Parent and friend thy laj)se attend. Companions young and old. Strong purposes our minds possess, Our hearts aftections till. We toil and earn, we seek and learn, And thou descendest still. O end to which our currents tend I Inevital)le soa, To which we flow, what do we know, What shall wo guess of thee? A roar we hear upon thy shore, As we our course fulHI ; Scarce we divine a sun will shine And be abctve us still. ssociations sat at, the le lords of ng and in- :ened with itures. It nes of the o fix these Lssing into it an end, let-liall no Id warld " away, and l>), chap. i. FOURTH LOOK Or' READII^G LEJ30N'3. # AT THE CLEAR FOTTNTAm. ("Ala Claire Fontaine. ") [" From the little seven-year old child to the gray-haired old man every- body in Canada knows this song. There is no Frencn-Canadian song tluit in this respect will comi»are with it, although the melody is very i)rimitive, and it has little to interest the musician beyond its great popularity."— Kknst (Iagnon : Ckansonft Popuhiircs da Canada (18G5).] It is often sung to a dancing tune, and is even brought into the fantasies of a concert. It is known in France, and is said to l)e of Norman origin, although M. Mannier thinks that it came from La Franche Comt6, and M. Rathery thinks it was brouglit from Bretagne, under the reign of Louis XIV. In France it lias nearly the same words, l)ut with this difference, that the French song expresses the sorrow of a young girl at the loss of her friend Pierre, while the Canadian lad wastes his regrets upon the rose that his mistress has rejected. The air ati sung in France is alto- gether different. Some years since this song in its Oar.adian dress was brought out in all the principal theatres of Paris with immense success. This led to a distressing ))urlesque — "Za Claire Fo7itaine, as they sing it in Farts.' On the occasion of the visit of the Prince of Wales to America in 1860, a little incident ocurred c board the Hero, on the last evening before the landing ct Q'Uf^»ec, that brought this song and its air into notice upo u much wider field than liefore. Several prominent Canadiaj > had come on boord, and as the evening wore away Mr, (after^v:,rds; bir Geoi;:je) Cartier, a high official in the Colonial Governnurt 'iepped forward and Ijejjan to sing this sont in a clear and ; leloi'ious voice. The chorus was easily picked up by the listeners, and after once hearing it a few voices joined in ; at first in subdued and gentle murmur, but at each return more clear and strong, until at the end the whole party were in ful< accord and singing witli enthusiasm the oft repeated declaration -- '* II y a longtomps nuo je t'aiino, Jamais je ne roublierai."— I loved thee h'om the hour we met, And never can that luve f('V(T,jt. From this time on\-ard till the end of the Prnsce's joamey in America, tliis simple inelody became the favorite piece, or svas brought in as an accouipaniment to other music, at recep- ft ■ m m <::M 88 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. tions and parties, and, in short, upon all occasions wherever music was in ordci-; and for this reason it is now lietter known outsi(h) of Canada than all the rest of French-(*anadian soni^'s put tof^ethcr. As by the crystal fount I strayed, On which the dancing moonbeams played. The water seemed so clear and bright, I bathed myself in its delight : I loved thee from the hour we met, And never can that love forget. The water seemed so clear and bright, I bathed myself in its delight : The nightingale above my head, As sweet a stream of music shed. The nightingale above my head. As sweet a stream of music shed ; — Sing, nightingale, thy heart is glad, But I could weep, for mine is sad. Sing, nightingale, thy heart is glad, But I could weep, for mine is sad ; For I have lost my lady fair. And she has left me in despair. For I have lost my lady fair, And she has left me in despair ; For tliat I gave not when she spoke, The rose that from its tree I broke. For that I gave not when she spoke, The rose that from its tree I broke : I wish the rose were on the tree, And my beloved again with mo. I wish tlie rose were on its tree, And my beloved again with me ; Or that the tree itself were cast Into the sea before this passed. I loved tliee from the hour we met, And never can that love forget. F. v.. Uovgh: Tfic Thoiismxl Islamh (19:9,0). II i FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 89 ■;i GALISSONIERE AND BIOOT. William Kirby. [The following sketches are taken from Mr. Kirby's charming romance The Chicn d'Or (The GoMm Doij) : A Lrurvd of QuiUc '(1H77). The scene is laid in the reign of Louis XV., a.d. 1748. The story takes its name from the dog, sculptured and gilded, and enigmatically inscribed, which surmounted the doorway to Philibert's great trading depot in (i>uebec. Philibert was the determined opjument of tlie Inten«lant I^igot, whose i)rofligate waste of colonial resources greatly contributed to the military disaster of 17r)9. Bigot's career has furnished also to M. Josej)h IMaimette of (Quebec the ground- work of his historical novel LTntcridant JJif/dt. The jntendant was the highest executive officer, next to the (iovernor : he had the superintendence of justice, police, finance, and marine. Bigot was the fourteenth and last Intend- ant of Canada,— 1748-1759.] Rolland Michel Barrin, Count do la Galissoniere, was remark- able no less for his philosophical attainments, that ranked him high among the savans of the French Academy, than for his political abilities and foresight as a statesman. He felt strongly the vital interests involved in the present war, and saw clearly what was the sole policy necessary for France to adopt in order to preserve her magnificent dominion in North America. His counsels were neither liked nor followed by the Court of Ver- sailles, then sinking fast into the slough of corrui)tion that marked th(» closing years of the reign of Louis XV. Among the people who admired deeds more than words the Count was honored as a brave and skilful admiral, who had borne the flag of France triumphantly oxor the seas, and 1 1 the face of her most powerful enemies, the English and the Dutch. His memorable repulse of Admiral Byng, eight years after the events here recorded, which led to the death of that brave but unfor- tunate officer, who was shot by a sentence of court martial to atone for that repulse, was a glory to France, l)ut to the Count brought after it a manly son'ow for the fate of his opponent, whose death he regarded ns a cruel and unjust act, unworthy of the English nation, usually as generous and merciful as it is brave and considerate. The Governor was already advanced in year.s. He had en- tered upon the winter of life that sprinkles the head with snow that never melts ; but he was still hale, ruddy, and active. Katuro had, indeed, moulded him in an unpropitious hour for personal comeliness; but in compensation she had seated a great heart and a graceful mind in a body low of stature, and marked by a slight deformity. His piercing eyes, luminous with intelli- s] • id 4 li'if |J : I' ' 1 1 I ri 90 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. goncc and full of sympathy for everything nohle and elevated, overpowered with thenr fascination the Itlemishes that a too curious scrutiny might discover upon his fig\ire ; while his mobile, handsome lips, poured out the natural eloquence of clear thoughts and nohle sentiments. The Count grew great while speaking; his listeners w(!re carried away by the mngic of his voice and the clearness of his intellect. Chien d'Or, chap. i. At the head of the table, first in place as in rank, sat Fran(jois Bigot, Intendant of New France. His low, well-set figure, dark hair, small keen black eyes, and swarthy features, full of fire and animation, bespoke his Gascon blood. His countenances was far from comely — nay, when in repose, even ugly and repulsive, — but his eyes were magnets that drew men's looks towards him, for in them lay the force of a power- ful will, and a depth and subtlety of intellect, that made men fear, if they could not love him. Yet when he chose — and it was his usual mood — to exercise his l)landishments on men, he rarely failed to captivate them ; while his pleasant wit, courtly ways, and natural gallantry towards women, exercised with the polished seductiveness he had learned in the Court of Louis XV., made Frani^'ois Bigot the most plausible and dangerous man in France. He was fond of wine and music, passionately addicted to gambling, and devoted to the pleasant vices that were rampant in the Court of France. Finely educated, able in the conduct of affairs, and fertile in his expedients to accomplish his ends, Fran(4'ois Bigot might have saved New France had he been honest as he was clever ; but he was unprincipled and corrupt. No conscience checked his ambition or his love of pleasure. He ruined New France for the sake of himself and his patroness, and the crowd of courtiers and frail beauties who surrounded the King, and whose arts and influence kept him in high office despite all the efforts of the good and true men of the colony to remove him. He had already ruined and lost the ancient colony of Acadia through his frauds and malversations as Chief Commissary of the Army ; and, instead of being subjected to trial and punish- ment, he had lately been exalted to the higher and still more important office of the Royal Intendant of New France. Chien d^Or, cli.ap. vii. elevated, at a too Au\o his ) of el(^ar at while ic of his chap. i. 'ank, sat , well-set features, 0(1. His ose, even lat drew a power- lade men ; — and it 1 men, he t, courtly with the of Louis langerous dieted to rampant nduct of his ends, he been corrupt, lure. He atroness, rrounded ifjh office le colony )f Acadia iiissary of [\ punish- kill more je. Hiap. vii. FOURTH HOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 91 PART 11. They brand us, and they beat us ; they spill our Ijlood like water ; We die that they may live, ten thousand in a day! O that they had mercy ! for in their dens of s]au_£,diter Tliey afflict us and atlVight us, and do far worse than slay. We are made to be their servants — we know it, and complain not ; We bow our necks with meekness the galling yoke to bear. m m i «tnm 92 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Tlieir heaviest toil we lighten, the meanest we disdain not; In all their sweat and labor we take a willing share. We know that God intended for us but servile stations, — To toil to bear man's burdens, to watch beside his door; They are of Earth the masters, we are their poor relations, Who grudge them not their greatness, but help to make it more. And in return we ask but that they would kindly use us For the purposes of service, for that for which we're made ; That they would teach their children to love and not abuse us, So each might face the other, and neither be afraid. We have a sense they know not, or else have dulled by learning, — They call it instinct only, a thing of rule and plan ; But oft, when reason fails them, our clear, direct discerning, And the love that is within us, have sa\ed the life of man. If they would but love us, would learn our strength and weakness. If only with our sufferings their hearts could sympathize. Then they would know what truth is, what patience io and meekness, And read our heart's devotion in the softness of our eyes ! If they would but teach their children to treat the subject creatures As hjmble friends, as servants who strive their love to win, Then would they see how joyous, how kindly are our natures, And a second day of Eden would on the Earth begin ! Mau\ Howm (h. 1S04): Som/s of Animal Life. wh CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. Thomas Chalmeus, D.D. (1780-1847). Man is the direct agent of a wide and continual distress to the lower animals ; and the question is, " Can any method be devised for its alleviation?" On this siil)ject that scriptural ot; ins. make it IS made ; buse us, illed by -ning, f man. fjth and ;hize, 'J, and [eyes ! subject to win, jatures, 1 \,al Life. stress to [thod be iriptural FOURTH liOOK OF UFA Dim; LESSONS. 93 4 ^ if image is strikingly realized : " the whol<' [inferior] creation groaning and travailing together in pain " because oi him. It signifies naught to thti substantive amount of the sufl'ering whether it be prompted by the hardness of his heart, or only permitted through the heedlessness of his mind. In either way it holds true, not only that the arch-devourer ]\Ian stands pre- eminent over the fiercest children of the wildenu^ss as an animal of prey, but that for his lordly and luxurious a})})(;tite, as well as for his service or merest curiosity and amus(!ment, Naturt' must be ransacked throughout all her elements. Rather than forego the veriest gratifications of vanity, he will wring them from the anguish of wretched and ill-fated creatures ; and whether for the indulgence of his barl)aric sensuality or his baibaric splendor, he can stalk paramount* over the suflcrings of that prostrate creation which has been placed beneath his fei^t. These sulFerings are really felt. The beasts of the field are not so many automata,! without sensation, so constructed as to assume all the natural expressions of it. Nature hath not l)iiictised this universal deception upon our species. These poor animals just look, and tremble, and give forth the very indications of suffering that we do. Theirs is the distinct cry of pain. Theirs is the unequivocal physiognomy J of pain. They put on the same aspect of terror on the demonstrations of a menaced blow. They exhibit the same distortions of agony aiter the infliction of it. The bruise, or the burn, or the; fracture, or the deep incision, or the fierce encounter with one of equal or of superior strength, affects them similarly to our- selves. Their blood circulates as ours. They have pulsations in various parts of the body as we have. They sicken, and they grow feeble with age, and finally they die, just as we do. They possess the same feelings ; and, what exposes them to like sufferings from another quarter, they possess the same, instincts with our own species. The lioness robbed of her wh(4ps causes the wilderness to ring aloud with the proclama- tion of her wrongs; or the bird whos<' litth! household has been stolen fills and saddens all the grove with melodies of deej»est pathos. All this is palpable even to the general and unlearned * Paramount, originally an adverbial jihrase derived from the old French IHir amont, at the top. — Skeat'h Ffinnofunical Dictionary (1882). t Automata (i)l. ol automaton), self-acting machines. i I'unnstakable expression. i^l ! .!ift % :' i' : ij: \^ ^N'S IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I 121 125 liO ^ ^ 12.2 tti ■i.s mm lli u 140 Wuu |20 IE 1.25 |||U 1^ -^ 6" ► VQ Vi ^'^ '» 7 Photogr^hic Sdences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT wMSTiR.N.y. usao (716) 872-4S03 m^ V iV Kn Z\ '^ \%^^ v*.^^ ^ 4 z %^ 1^ m, \ Tsr 94 FOUMTIt BOOK OF READING LESSONS. eye ; and when tho physiologist lays open the recesses of their .system, by means of that scalpel under whose operation they just shrink and are convulsed as any living subject of our own "species, there stands forth to view the same sentient apparatus,* and furnished with the same conductors for the transmission of feeling from every minutest pore upon the surface. Theirs is unmixed and unmitigated pain, the agonies of mar- tyrdom without the alleviation of the hopes and the sentiments whereof men are capable. When they lay them down to die, their only fellowship is with suffering ; for in the prison-house of their beset and l)0unded faculties no relief can be afforded Ijy coummnion with other interests or other things. The attention does not lighten their distress, as it does that of man by carry- ing off his spirit from that existing pungcmcy and pressure which might else be overwhelming. There is but room in their mysterious economy for one inmate, and that is the absorl)ing sense of their own single and concentrated anguish. And so on that bed of torment whereon the wounded animal lingers and expires there is an unexplored depth and intensity of suf- fering, which the poor dumb animal itself cannot tell, and against which it can offer no remonstrance — an untold and unknown amount of wretchedness, of which no articulate voice gives utterance. "FARMED OUT." Charles Dickens (1812-1870). [In Oliver Twist Dickons exposed the abuses of the parish-relief and work- house system. The gi'eater part of this tale oricfinally appeared in Bcntley'a Magazine (1837-38), of which Dick'^ns was the editor.] Oliver Twist was brought up by hand. The hungry and destitute situation of the infant orphan was duly reported by the workhouse authorities to the pai'ish authorities. The parish authorities inquired with dignity of the workhouse authorities whether there was no female then domiciled " in the house" who was in a situation to impart to Oliver Twist the consolation aiui noai shment of which he stood in need. The workhouse authorities replied w^th humility that there was not. Upon this the parish authorities magnanijuously and humanely resolved that Oliver should i>e "farmed," or, in other words, * Nervous system. ' 'W ■ FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 95 that he should be despatched to a branch workhouse some tLree miles off, where twenty or thirty other juvenile offenders against the poor-laws rolled about the floor all day, without the incon- venience of too much food or too much clothing, under the parental superintendence of an elderly female, who received the culprits at and for the consideration of sevenpence-halfpenny per small head per week Boys have gi^nerally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for thi-ee months. At last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small cook-shop), hinted darkly to his companions that unless he had another basm of gruel per diem, he was afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye, and they implicitly believed him. A council was held ; lots were cast who should walk up to the master after supper that evening and ask for more, and it fell to Oliver Twist. The evening arrived ; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper ; his- pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him ; the gruel was served out, and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared ; the boys whispered to one another and winked at Oliver, while his next neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger and reckless with misery. He rose from the table, and, advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity, "Please, sir, I want some more." " What ? " said the master, in a faint voice. "Please, sir," replied Oliver, "I want some more." The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle, pinioned him in his arms, and shrieked aloud for the beadle. Th(} board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said, — " Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir ! Oliver Twist has asked for more ! " There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance. "For mo'/r/" said Mr. Limbkins. "Compost^ yourself, Bumble, and answer nif distinctly. Do I understand that Ik; j|! If' J i ■ w d6 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS ■I • i i 1 . I I ! ■ asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary ? " " He did, sir," replied Bumble. "That boy will be hung," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. " I know that boy will be hung." Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody wlio would take Oliver Twist oif the hands of the parish. Oliver Twist, chap. ii. ON CHARLES DICKENS. Dean Stanley. When the little workhouse boy wins his way, pure and unde- tiled, through the mass of wickedness in the midst of which he passes — when the little orphan girl brings thoughts of heaven into the hearts of all around her, and is as the very gift of God to the old man whose desolate life she cheers — when the little cripple not only blesses his father's needy home, but softens the rude stranger's hardened conscience* — there is a lesson taught which touches every heart, which no human being can feel without being the better for it, which makes that grave seem to those who crowd around it as though it were the very grave of those little innocents whom he had thus created for our companionship, for our instruction, for our delight and solace. He labored to tell us all, in new, very new words, the old, old story, that there is, even in the worst, a capacity for goodness, a soul worth redeeming, worth reclaiming, worth regenerating. He labored to tell the rich, the educated, how this better side was to be found and respected even in the most neglected Laza- rus. He labored to tell the poor ro less to resi)ect this better part in themselves, — to remember t.at they also have a call to be good and just, if they will but hear it. If by any such niea.ns he has brought rich and poor together, and made Eng- lishmen feel more nearly as one family, he will not, assuredly, have lived in vain ; nor will his l)ones in vain have been laid in this home anc^ hearth of the English nation. FnmrnJ Sermon, Wistmintitf-r Ahhcii, Jane 10, 1870, * The characters here alhided to are, Oliver Tirixf, in the novel to which he frives his name; Little Nell Trent, in the *' Old Curiosity Shop;" Tiny Tim Vratehit, in the " Christniaa Carol." 1870. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESHONii. 1)7 THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN. Elizabeth Bakreit Browning (1809-1861). [The publication of this ix)werful appeal directed public attention to the employment of young children in factories and coal-mmes, and promoted the l)assing of the recent Factory Acts, w^hich place factory children under the direct supervision of the. Government, and i)rovide intervals for their rest and education. Mrs. Browning's defects consist in the use of false ihymes, far-fetched words, and obscure constructions. "Yet in sinte of all deductions that can be made — deductions, be it remembered, which are sometimes to be counted against the reader, and only sometimes against the poetess — she remains an attractive and delightful personage, and she has stamped enough of herself upon her poetry to give it an enduring charm. Her deep tenderness and genuineness of feeling, showing themselves in such ])()ems ari the Crii of the Children and Cowper's Grave, will never fail of their rightful power."— William T. Arnold.] Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years ? They ai'e leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows. The young birds are chirping in the nest. The young fawns are playing with the shadows. The young flowers are blowing toward the west; But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly ! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in the sorrow, Why their tears are falling so 1 The old man may weep for his to-morrow Which is lost m Long Ago. The old tree is leafless in the forest. The old year is ending in the frost, The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest, The old hope is hardest to be lost; But the young, young children, O my brothers. Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore befon^ the bosoms of their mothers, In our happy Fatherland 1 7 Mi 11 I t« 98 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. They look up with their pule and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see, For the man's hoary anguish draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy. « Your old earth," they say, " is very dreary ; Our young feet," they say, "are very weak ! Bew paces have we taken, yet are weary — Oui* grave-rest is very far to seek. Ask tiie aged why they weep, and not the children ; For the outside earth is cold ; And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering. And the graves are for the old." "True," say the children, "it may happen That we die before our time. Little Alice died last year — her grave is shapen Like a snowball in the rime. We looked into the pit prepared to take her. Was no room for any work in the close clay ! From the sleep wherein she lietli none will wake her. Crying, 'Get up, little Alice, it is day.' If you listen by that grave in sun and shower, With your ear down, little Alice never cries. Could we see her, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes. And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud by the kirk-chime ! It 13 good when it happens," say the children, " That we die before our time." .\las ! alas the children ! they are seeking Death in life, as best to have. "I'hey are binding up their hearts away from breaking, With a cerem(3nt from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city ; Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do. Pluck your handf uls of the meadow-cowslips pretty ; Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through ! But they answer, " Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine? Leave us (juiet in tin; dark of the coal-shadows. From your pleasures fair and fine ! (( (( "I ini'l $ FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 99 " For oh," say the children, " we are weary And we cannot run or leap. If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go ; And underneath our heavy eyelids drooping. The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burdens tiring Through the coal-dark underground — Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round. " For, all day, the wheels are droning, turning — Their wind comes in our faces — Till our hearts turn — our head, with pulses burning. And the walls turn in their places. Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling, Turns the long light that drops adown the wall. Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling, — All are turning, all the day, and we with all. And, all day, the iron wheels are droning. And sometimes we could pray, " O ye wheels " (breaking out in a mad moaning), " Stop ! be silent for to-day ! " Ay, be silent ! Let them hear each other breathing For a moment, mouth to mouth ! Let them touch each other's hands in a fresh wreathing Of their tender human youth ! Let them feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God fashions or reveals. Let them prove their living souls against the notion That they live in you, or under you, O wheels ! — Still, all day, the iron v*'heels go onward. Grinding life down from its mark ; And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward, Spin on blindly in the dark. Now tell the poor young children, O my brothers, To look up to Him and pray ; So the Blessed One who blesseth all the others, Will bless them another day. II 1 I I I i : 'h iff- 7mm ■ I : t 100 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. They answer : "Who is God, that he should hear us, While the rushing of the iron wheel is stirred ? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word. And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding; Strangers speaking at the door. Is it likely God, with angels singing round him. Hears our weeping any more % " TNvo words, indeed, of praying we remember. And at midnight's hour of harm, ' Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber. We say softly for a charm."* We know no other words, except ' Our Father,' And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather. And hold both within his right hand which is strong. * Our Father ! ' if he heard us, he would surely (For they call him good and mild) Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely, ' Come and rest with me, my child.' " But no ! " say the children, weeping faster, " He is speechless as a stone. And they tell us, of His images is the Master Who commands us to work on. Go to ! " say the children — " ufy in heaven. Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find. Do not ruo<3k us; grief has made us unbelieving, — W^e look up for God, but tears have made us blind." Do you hear the children weeping and disproving, O my brothers, what ye preach? For God's possible is taught by his world's loving. And the children doubt of each. And well may the children weep before you ! They are weary ere they run ; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun. Thoy know the grief of man, without his wisdom ; They sink in man's despair, without its calm ; * A fact rendered pathetically historical by Mr. Home's report of his com- mission. m FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSON'S. 101 Are slaves, without the liberty, in Christdom ; Are martyrs, by the pnng, without the palm ; Are worn, as if with age, yet unretrievingly The harvest of its memories cannot reap ; Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly ; — Let them weep ! let them weep ! They look up with their pale and sunken face? And their look is dread to see ; For chey mind you of their angels in high places. With eyes turned on Deity ! " How long," they say, " how long, O cruel nation ! Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart ; Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation. And tread onward to your throne amid the mart 1 Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper, And your purple shows your path ; But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper Than the strong man in his wrath." LILLIPUTIAN TAILORS AND GOOES. Jonathan (Dean) Swift (1667-1745). It may perhaps divert the curious reader to give some account of my domestics, and my manner of living in this country during a residence of nine months and thirteen days. Having a head ir>echanif^ally turned, and being likewise forced by necessity, I had made for myself a table and chair convenient enough out of the largest trees in the royal park. Two hundred seamstresses were employed to make me shirts, and linen for my bed and tt.ble, all of the strongest and coarsest kind they could get, which, however, they were forced to quilt together in several folds, for the thickest was some degrees finer than lawn. . Their linen is usually three inches wide, and three feet make a piece. The seamstresses took my measure as I lay on the ground, one standing at my neck and another at my knee, with a strong cord extended, that each hell by the end, while a third measured the length of the cord with a rule an inch long. Then they measured my right thumb, and desired no more ; for, by a mathematical computation that twice round the thumb is once round the wrist, arid so on to the neck and the waist, and by the n '^•BWTiliWWI 102 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Iieip of my old shirt, which 1 displayed on the ground before them for a pattern, they fitted me exactly. Three hundred tailors were employed in the same manner to make me clothes ; but they had another contrivance for taking my measure. I kneeled down, and they raised a ladder from the ground to my neck. Upon this ladder on(» of them mounted, and let fall a plumb-line from my collar to the floor, which just answered the length of my coat; but my waist and arms I measured myself. When my clothes were finished, which was done in my house (for the largest of theirs would not have been able to hold them), they looked like the patchwork made by the ladies in England, only that mine were all of a color. I had three hundred cooks to dress my victuals, in little con- venient huts built about my house, where they and their fam- ilies lived, and prepared me two dishes apiece. I took up twenty waiters in my hand and placed them on the table ; a hundred more attended below on the ground, some with dishes of meat, and some with barrels of wine and other liquors slung on their shoulders, all which the waiters above drew up, as I wanted, in a very ingenious manner by certain cords, as we draw the bucket up a well in Europe. A dish of their meat was a good mouthful, and a barrel of their liquor a reasonable draught. Their mutton yields to ours, but their beef is excellent. I have had a sirloin so large that I have been forced to make three bites of it ; but this is rare. My servants were astonished to see me eat it bones and all, as in our country we do the leg of a lark. Their geese and turkeys I usually ate at a mouthful, and I confess they far exceed ours. Of their smaller fowl I could take up twenty or thirty at the end of my knife. Travels of Lemuel Gulliver (1726). THE CHARACTER OF SWIFT. W. M. Thackeray (1811-18G3). To have had so much love, he must have given some. Treas- ures of wit and wisdom, and tenderness too, must that man have had locked up in the caverns of his gloomy heart, and shown fitfully to one or two whom he took in there. But it was not good to visit that place. People did not remain there long, and suffered for having been there. He shrank away from all affections sooner or later. Stella and Vanessa both FOURTH BOOK OF READTNO LKSSONS. 103 died near him, and away from him. He had not heart enougli to see them die. He broke from liis fastest friend, Sheridan; he slunk away from liis fondest admirer, Pope. His laugli jars on one's ear after sevenscorc years. He was always alone — alone and gnashing in the darkness — except when Stella's sweet smile came and shone upon him. When that went, silence and utter night closed over him. An immense genius: an awful downfall and ruin! So great a man he seems to me, that tliinking of him is like thinking of an empire fall- ing. We have other great names to mention — none, I think, however, so great or so gloomy. English Humorists of Eighteenth Century. "MT LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE." Richard Henry Wilde (1789-1847). My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But ere the shades of evening close. Is scattered on the ground — to die. Yet on the rose's humble bed The sweetest dews of night are shed. As if she wept the waste to see — But none shall weep a tear for me ! My life is like the autumn leaf. That trembles in the moon's j^ale ray ; Its hold is frail, its date is brief, Restless — and soon to pass away ! Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shade. The winds bewail the leafless tree — But none shall breathe a sigh for me ! My life is like the prints which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand ;* Soon as the rising tide shall beat. All trace will vanish from the sand. Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race. On that lone shore loud moans the sea — But none, alas ! shall mourn for me ! * Tampa is on the Gulf coast of Florida, »it •\ II ■s ^L-f^ I I i ■ ' 104 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. SHAKSPEARE'S ''KING JOHN." The Framework of the PJay. When John seized the English throne, Philip of France re- solved to defend the cause of young Arthur, who was the right- ful heir, for his father Geoffrey was John's elder brother. Be- fore they liad heen at war very long, John and Philip were reconciled, in consequence of the marriage of the dauphin with John's niece, the Lady Blanch. When Constance, Arthur's mother, heard of this she was greatly disappointed, and in an agony of wounded pride she threw herself on the ground and wept bitterly. Soon afterwards tiie Pope quarrelled with King John, and called on King Philip to be his champion. At first Philip was unwilling to take up the cause, but he afterwards yielded, and declared that he abandoned the friendship of the King of Eng- land. They then took to arms again, and in the first encounter, before Angiers in France, John seized the person of his young nephew Arthur, and conveyed him as a prisoner to his camp, placing him under the strict watch of one of his lords named Hubert. Great was the grief of Philip of France when he found that the battle was lost to him, Angiers taken, and Arthur made prisoner ; but it was as nothing compared with the grief of the Lady Constance, who seemed as one distracted. When Pan- du'ph, the cardinal, and King Philip rebuked her for giving way to grief, she answered, — " Grief fills the room up of my absent child. Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words. Remembers me of all his gracious parts. Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do." Act iii. scene 4. , We must now pass to a castle in England, whither the poor little prisoner had been conveyed by the command of his in- human uncle. John had already declared to Hubert that hq I FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 105 should have no rest until the Imy's life; had boon takon • ' it in the first place he commandod Hubert to put out his eyes with red-hot irons. In one of the rooms of the castle two attxnidants were making preparations for this terrible deed. Bidding them await a signal, whereupon they were to rush in and bind the boy, Hubert called his prisoner to him. His innocent face moved him to pity, and with a great effort he handed him a paper, on which his sentence was clearly written. Arthur could hardly believe that it would indeed bo carried out, and he cried, — " Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache, T knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, — a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again ; And with my hand at midnight held your head ; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour. Still and anon cheered up the heavy time, Saying, 'What lack you?' and, 'Where lies your grief '?' Or, * What good love may I perform for you V Many a poor man's son would have lien still, And ne'er havo spoke a loving word to you ; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love. And call it cunning : do, an if you will : If Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes that never did, nor never shall, So much as frown on you." ^ , . " Act. IV. scene 1. Declaring that he had pledged himself by an oath, Hubert stamped on the floor, and the attendants rushed in with cords to bind the unhappy boy, and with the heated irons with which his eyes were to be put out ; but Arthur still expected pro- tection from his keeper, and clinging to him, cried, — " Oh, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men." Act iv. scene 1. So pathetic were his entreaties, so earnestly did the child plead for himself, that Hubert ordered the men away, and at ^' r •'« t i # 1 . 106 FOUETH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ■ V. 1 length promised that his eyes should not be put out : but he said, — "Your uncle must not know but you arc dead." For well did he understand the vindictive hatred his royal master felt towards his brother's son. Meanwhile, it had pleased King John to be crowned a second time, thinking thereby to make his seat upon the throne more secure, even though his lords told him it was superfluous ; indeed the Earl cf Salisbury declared that — " To guard * a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily. To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eyes of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess." Act iv. scene 2. The King was conversing with his courtiers, when Hubert arrived to say that the young Prince Arthur was dead. The Earls of Peml3roke and Salisbury, suspecting that the King had not been guiltless, left his presence, resolved to inquire into the cause of the child's death. Even as they departed, a messenger * Guard, ornauient with a border. / FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 107 came hurrying in to toll the news of tlio arrival of a Froneb force under the command of the dauphin. It was ill news to the ears of John, and as he pondered over it Hubert nventered the apartment. The King, now greatly alarmed, hlamed Hubert m L 2. ubert The had ;o the enger for having put Arthur to death. Hubert reminded him of his commands ; but the King said that Hubert himself had insti- gated the murder. Seeing liim in this mood, Hubert now ventured to tell his sovereign that Arthur was alive. On hear- ing that, John bade him hasten and bring back the angry lords, that they might know the truth. At that very time the poor captive boy was standing on the wall of the castle, thinking it would be a happy ending of his sorrows if he had courage to leap from the height. Tlie idea was terrible to him, for he was young and timid. He thougi\t, however, that though the wall was high, the leap might not kill him, and that if he reached the ground uninjured, it would be easy to get away to some safe place of hiding ; so he sprang from the castle wall, but so terribly was he injured that he died there upon the hard stones. By this time the Earls of Pem- broke and Salisbury had reached the castle, determined on dis- covering the true fate of the young prince ; and when they saw the bruised and bleeding body lying beneath the castle wall, they believed he had been murdered. ■. II I'.': j '■ .i ' i'^^ 1 '* \' '■ 1 f ; 1 i:| K \ '''}■ 1 y-^i 1 1 'i^ i; > 111! ; ■ ■ 1 ' f . 1 I 1 ! I ( ■ ii 108 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Hubert found them there, and in his haste, knowing nothing of what had befallen the child, he cried, " Arthur doth live ! The King hath sent for you." For answer the indignant lords pointed to the lifeless corpse, charging him with the murder ; but Hubert declared that he was innocent, and that, but an hour before, he had left the young prince alive and well. King John had by this time reconciled himself to Rome ; whereon Cardinal Pandulph, the Pope's legate, undertook to dismiss the French troops already landed. But the dauphin would not lay down his arms ; and a great battle ensued, in which the English fared so badly that John declared himself sick at heart, and he retreated before the fall of night had put an end to the combat. Hated by his nobles, forsaken by his friends, he was of all men the most unhappy, while his con- science was troubled by the remembrance of his many crimes : d, fever attacked him, from which he died at Newark Castle ; and he was buried at Worcester, as he had desired. THE FOUR OHEATEST ENGLISH POETS. William Hazlitt (1778-1830). The four greatest names in English poetry are almost the first four we come to, — Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton. There are no others that can really be put in compe- tition with these. The two last have had justice done them by the voice of common fame. In comparing these four writers together, it might be said that Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser, as the poet of romance; Shak- speare, as the poet of nature (in the largest use of the term) ; and Milton, as the poet of morality. Chaucer most frequently describes things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be, Shakspeare, as they would be ; and Milton, as they ought to b?. As poets, and as great poets, imagination — that is, the power of feigning things according to nature — was common to them all ; but the principle, or moving power, to which this faculty was most subservient, in Chaucer was habit, or inveterate prej- udice; in Spenser, novelty, and the love of the marvellous; in Shakspeare, it was the force of passion, combined with every variety of possible circumstance; and in Milton, only with the highest. The characteristic of Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of Shakspeare, everything! Lcdurea on the Emjlhh Poets. us; in every th the ing Poets, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LEHSONS. 109 KING JOHN. William Shakspeare (1564-1616). Act IV. Scene 1 : England. A Room in Northampton Castle.* Enter Hubert and Executioners. Hub. Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou stand Within the arras : f when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, And bind the boy which you shall lind with me Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. Firiiii Exec. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Ihcb. Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you : look to't. — [Exeunt Executioners. Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. Enter Arthur. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Gr jd morrow, little prince. Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To bo more prince) as may be. — You are sad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. Arth. Mercy on me ! Methinks nobody should be sad but 1 ; Yet, I remember, when I was m France, Young gentlcincii would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, So I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long ; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me : He is afraid of me, and I of him : Is it my fault that 1 was Getfrey's son ? No, indeed, is't not ; and I would to Heaven I were your son, so you would lovt^ me, Hubert. Hub. [Amkl^ If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. * Shakspearo here departs from the historical narrative. Arthur was imprisoned at Falaise (Normandy), and was thence removed to Koueu. t See glossary at end of lesson. t-: II liO FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. M pi I Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day : 111 sooth, I would you wero a little sick. That I might sit all night and watch with you : I warrant I love you more than you do me. Hub. [Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom. — Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paj)er, [Aside] How now, foolish rheum ! Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. — Can you not read it 1 is it not fair writ 1 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul eftect : Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ? Huh. Young boy, I must. Arth. And will you ? Hid). And I will. Arth. Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, — a princess >vrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again ; And with my hand at midnight held your head ; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; Saying, "What lack you?" and, "Where lies your grief?" Or, " What good love may I perform for you ? " Many a poor man's son would have lien stil]. And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning : do, an if you will : If Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes that never did, nor never shall, So much as frown on you. Hub. I have sworn to do it ; And with hot irons must I burn them out. Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it ! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, And quench his tiery indignation Even in the matter of mine innocence ; Nay, after that, consume away in rust, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Ill But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn- hard than hammered iron ? An if an angel should have come to me, And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not have believed him, — no tongue but Hubert's. Hub. Come forth ! [Stamjjd. He-enter Executioners, with a cordy ironsy &c. Do as I bid you do. Arth. Oh, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. Arth. Alas, what need you be so boisterous-rough ? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For Heaven-sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! Nay, hear me, Hubert : drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; I w ill not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly : Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. First Exec. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. \_Exeunt Executioners. Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend ! He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : Let him come back, that his compassion may Give life to yours. Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. Arth. Is there no remedy ? Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. Arth. O Heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense ! Then feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Hub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your tongue. Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert ; — Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue. So I may keep mine eyes : oh, spare mine eyes, ' ¥. I ill 1 lU ' 5 -inf m ■ \ i: ' ; I lit 112 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LFHi^ONS. Though to no use but still to look on you ! — Lo, by my troth, the mstrument is cold, And would not harm me. Hub, I can heat it, boy. Arth. No, in good sooth : the tire is dead with grief (Being create for comfort) to be used In undeserved extremes : see else yourself ; There is no malice in this burning coiil ; TliJ breath of heaven has blown his spirit out, And strewed repentant ashes on his head. Hub. But with my breath 1 can revive it, boy. Arth. An if you do, you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert : Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes ; And, like a dog tliat is compelled to fight. Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should use to do me wrong Deny their office : only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends. Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Hub. Well, see to live , I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy. With this same very iron to burn them out. Ai'th. Oh, now you look like Hubert ! all this while You were disguised. Hitb. Peace ; no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead : I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure. That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world. Will not offend thee. Arth. O Heaven ! — I thank you, Hubert. Hub. Silence ; no more : go closely in with me : [Exeunt. f^ Much danger do undergo for thee. v:l Glossary.— ^u if, if indeed, even if (Abbot) ; arras, tapestry, wall-hang- inpfs ; boistcrous-rout/h, rude and rough ; Christendom, Christian name (Halli- well) ; dispiteous, pitilt ss, cruel ; Hen, lain ; let, leave ; n^eds, of necessity ; ojfcnd, hurt, injure; owes, owns; rheum, tears; sooth, truth; tarrc, urge, excite, —froui Middle English tarien, to irritate— cf. tarry, from M. E. taryen, to delay (Skuat) ; troth, truth ; writ, written. ief yes lile Lubert. [Exeunt. r'all-hang- iie (Halli- iecessity ; frc, urge, M. E. FOURTH BOOK OF BEADINU LESHONiS, 113 THE BLACK PRINCE AT CRECY. Arthur Penrhtn (Dean) Stanley (1815-1881). [Edward the Black Prince was the eldest son of Edward III., who suc- ceeded his father, Edward II., in 1327. In 1339 Edward claimed the crown of France, in right of his mother Isabella, and in opposition to Philip VI. Philip III. of France had had two sons. Isabella v/as the daiighter of the elder of these ; while Philip VI. was the son of the younger. This was the ground of Edward's claiir.. But the claim was unwarrantable for two reasons : first, because at the time of her marriage Isabella had abandoned her claim to the French crown ; secondly, because a descendant of Isabella's eldest brother was still living, and of course had a better right to the crown than either Edward III. or Philip VI. After the war had languished for six years, Edward, in 1346, prepared for a decisive blow. He set sail from Southampton with a large army, intending to invade France on the south- west ; but a storm drove him to the coast of Normandy, and he landed at La Hogue, and then marched on Paris.] The two great events of Edward the Black Prince's life, and those which made him famous in war, were the two great battles of Cre^y and Poitiers. The war, of which these two battles formed the turning-points, was undertaken by Edward III. to gain the crown of France, — a claim, through his mother, which he had solemnly relinquished, but which he now resumed. I shall not undertake to describe the whole fight of Cre^y, but will call your attention briefly to the questions which every one ought to ask himself, if he wishes to understand anything about any battle whatever. First, Where was it fought? Secondly, Why was it fought? Thirdly, How was it won? And fourthly, Wliat was the result of it ? And to this I must add, in the present instance. What part was taken in it by the Prince, now following his father as a young knight, in his first great campaign ? The first of these questions involves the second also. If we make out where a battle was fought, this usually tells us why it was fought. And this is one of the many proofs of the use of learning geography t-ogether with history. Each helps us to understand the other. Edward had ravaged Normandy, and reached the very gates of Paris, and was retreating towards Flanders, when he was overtaken by the French King, Philip, who, with an immense army, had determined to cut him off* entirely, and so put an end to the war. With difficulty, and by the happy accident of a low tide, he crossed the mouth of the Somme, and found himself within his 8 in!';'! m . (i Id ' 1 'A 'i m 1 I III I a I II ! »i f 1 li ■ ! r •I ; ■ ! |1 I ! 114 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. own maternal inheritance ; and for that special reason he encamped near the forest of Creepy, fifteen miles north-east of Abbeville. " I am," he said, " on the right heritage of madam, my mother, which was given her in dowry ; I will defend it ngaiiist my adversary, Philip of Valois." It was on Saturday the 28th of August 1346, and it was at four lu the afternoon, that tlie battle commenced. It always helps us better to imagine any renarkable event, when we know at what time of the day or ni^ht it took place ; and on tliis occasion it is of great importance, because it helps us at once to answer the question we asked, How was the battle Avon 1 The French army had advanced from Abbeville,, after a hard day's march to overtake the retiring enemy. All along the road, and riooding the hedgelcss plains which bordered the road, the army, swelled by tlio surrounding peasantry, rolled along, crying, " Kill ! kill ! " drawing their swords, and thinking they were sure of their prey. What the French King chiefly relied on (besides liis great numbers) was the troop of flfteen thousand crossbownen from Genoa. These were made to stand in front; when, just as the engagement was about to take place, one of those extraordinary incidents occurred which often turn irii. ruVIlTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 115 the fate of battles, as tliey do of human life in general. A tre- mendous storm gathered from the west, and broke in thunder and rain and hail on the field of battle ; the sky was darkened, and the liorror was increased by the hoarse cries of crows and ravens, which fluttered before the storm, and struck terror into : 1 I 4 ! J u hard 5 the road, ilong, ;they elied isand id in lace, turn CRECY i^'^'"%% A/*'^^ ^^) ( (f}^ "■••".Vv- 1. Edward's line of inarch. 2. Philip's line of march. 3. The English army. 4. The windmill. 5. The trenches. 6. The French army. the hearts of the Italian bowmen, who were unaccustomed to these northern tempests. And when at last the sky had cleared, and they prepared their crossbows to shoot, the strings had been so wet by the rain that the men could not draw them. By this time, the evening sun streamed out in full splendor over the black clouds of the western sky — right in their faces ; and at the same moment the English archers, who had kept their bows in cases during the storm, and so had their strings dry, let fly their arrows so fast and thick that those who were present could only compare it to snow or sleet. Through and thiough the heads, and necks, and hands of the Genoese bow- men the arrows pierced. Unable to stand it, they turned and fled; and from that moment the panic and confusion were so great that the day was lost. But though the storm, and the sun, and the archers had their part, we must not forget the Prince. He was, we must ^! ' M 116 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. I . I 'dered with golden lilies, called the .at no quarter would be given ; and rcuHiinber, only sixteen, and yet he commanded the whole Engl'iili army ! It is said that the reason of this was, that the King of France had been so bent on destroying the English forces, that he had hoisted the sacred banner of France — the great scarlet flag, er»i^ Oriflamnio — as a si^ that when King Edward saw this, and saw the hazard to which he should expose, not only the army, but the whole kingdom, if he were to fall in battle, he determined to leave it to his son. On the top of a windmill, of which the solid tower is still to be seen on the ridge overhanging the field, the King, for what- ever reason, remained bareheaded, whilst the young Prince, who had been knighted a month before, went forward with his com- panions in arms into the very thickest of the fray ; and when his father saw that the victory was virtually gained, he fore- bore to interfere. " Let the child win his sjnirs," he said, in words which have since become a proverb, ^^and let the day he his." The Prince was in very great danger at one moment : he was wounded and thrown to the ground, and was only saved by Richard de Beaumont, who carried the great banner of Wales, throwing the banner over the boy as he lay on the ground, and standing upon it till he had driven back the assailants. The assailants were driven back ; and far through the long summer evening, and deep into the summer night, the battle raged. It was not till all was dark that the Prince and his companions halted from their pursuit ; and then huge fires and torches were lit up, that the King might see where they were. And then took place that touching interview between the father and the son ; the King embracing the boy in front of the whole army, by the red light of the blazing fires, and saying, " Sweet son^ God give you good perseverance : you are my true son ; right royally Jmve you acquitted yourself this day^ and worthy are you of a croion." And the young Prince, after the reverential manner of those times, " bowed to the ground, and gave all the honor to the King his father." The next day the King walked over the field of carnage with the Prince, and said, " What think you of a battle ? is it an agreeable game ? " The general result of the battle was the deliverance of the English army from a most imminent danger, and subsequently the conquest of Calais, which the King immediately besieged and won, and which remained in the possession of the English from that day to the reign of Queen Mary. From that time FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 117 the Prince became the darling of the English, and the terror of the French ; and whether from this terror, or from the black armor which he wore on that day, and which contrasted with the fairness of his complexion, he was called by them, "Ze Prince Noir" — "The Black Prince," and from them the name has passed to us ; so that all his other sounding titles, by which the old poems call him — " Prince of Wales, Duke of Aquitaine" — are lost in the one memorable name which he won for him- self in his first fight at Cre(^*y. Historical Memorials of Canterhury (1855). THE SOLDIEB S DREAM. Thomas Campbell (1777-1844). Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered — The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain. At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw. And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array. Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track ; 'Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us — rest, thou art weary and worn ; And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. «'t ■>i: ni 1^ 3l; v. ill , ji, W : (1 !^ iii I 118 FOURTH BOOK OF READINa LESSONS. 4 ft EASTER EVE IN MOSCOW. ' D. Mackenzie Wallace. It was Eastor evo, and I had gone with a friend to the Kremlin to witness the Easter ceremonies. Though the rain was falling heavily, an immense crowd of people had assembled in and around the cathedral. The crowd was of the most mixed kind. There stood the patient, l)earded muzhik (peasant), in his well-worn sheep-skin ; the big, burly, self-satisfied merchant, in his long, black, glossy coat ; the noble with fashionable great- coat and umbrella; thinly clad, rheumatic old women, shivering in the cold, and bright-eyed young damsels with their warm cloaks drawn closely around them ; white-haired old men with wallet and pilgrim's staff, and mischievous urchins with faces for the moment preternatural ly demure; — ail standing patiently and waiting for the announcement of the glad tidings, " He is risen ! " As midnight approached, the hum of voices gradually ceased, till, as the clock struck twelve, the deep-toned bell on "Ivan the Great" began to toll; and in answer to this signal all the bells in Moscow suddenly sent forth a merry peal. Every one held in his hand a lighted taper, and these thousands of litbie lights produced a curious illumination, giving to the surrounding buildings a picturesqueness of which they cannot boast in broad daylight. Meanwhile every bell in Moscow — and their name is legion — seemed frantically desirous of drown- ing its neighbor's voice, the solemn boom of the great one over- head mingling curiously with the sharp, fussy "ting-a-ting-ting" of diminutive rivals. If demons dwell in Moscow, and dislike bell-ringing, as is generally supposed, then there must have been at that moment a general stampede of the powers of darkness, such as is described by Milton in his poem on the Annuncia- tion ; and as if this deafening din were not enough, big guns were tired in rapid succession from a battery of artillery close at hand. I had intended to remain till the end of the service, in order to witness the ceremony of blessing the Easter cakes, which were ranged — each one with a lighted taper stuck in it — in long rows outside of the cathedral ; but the rain damped my curi- osity, and I went home about two o'clock. Had I remained I sliould have witnessed another curious custom, which consists in giving and receiving kisses of fra- ternal love. This practice I have since had frequent op- long curi- FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. no portunitios of ob- serving. Theoret- ically, one ought to embrace and be embraced ))y all present — indicat- ing thereby that all are brethren in Christ — but the refinements of modern life have made innovations in the practice, and most people confine their salu- tations to their friends and ac- qu aintances. When two friends meet during that night or on the following day, the one says, "Christos voskres!" ("Christ hath arisen!") and the other re- plies, ** Vo istine voskres ! " ( " In truth he hath arisen ! ") They then kiss each other three times on the right and left cheek alter- nately. The cus- tom is more or less observed in all classes of so- ciety, and the emperor himself conforms to it. This reminds 4 I '^ '41 t iiijj Im 1 1' n ¥ i' '• jl 120 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. il . i L '.-i ' 1 i 1 -! Iff ,l 1^ \'\ me of an anecdote which is related of the Emperor Nicholas, tending to show that he had at least a little human nature under his imperial and imperious exterior. On coming out of his cabinet one Easter morning, he said to the soldier who was mounting guard at the door the ordinary words of saluta- tion, " Christ has arisen ! " and received, instead of the ordi- nary reply, a flat contradiction — "Not at all, your Imperial Majesty ! " Astounded by such an unexpected answer — for no one ventured to dissent from Nicholas even in the most guarded and respectful terms — he instantly demanded an ex- planation. The soldier, trembling at his own audacity, explained that he was a Jew, and could not conscientiously admit the fact of the resurrection. This boldness for conscience' sake so pleased the Czar that he gave the man a handsome Easter present. Ruam. CZAE ALEXANDER THE SECOND. {March IS, 1881.) Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882). From him did forty million serfs, endowed Each with six feet of death-due soil, receive Rich, freeborn, lifelong land, whereon to sheave Their country's harvest. These to-day aloud Demand of Heaven a Father's blood,* — sore bowed With tears and thrilled with wrath ; who, while they grieve. On every guilty head would fain achieve All torment by his edicts disallowed. He stayed the knout's red-ravening fangs ; and first Of Russian traitors, his own murderers go White to the tomb. While he — laid foully low, With limbs red-rent, with festering brain which erst Willed kingly freedom — 'gainst the deed accurst To God bears witness of his people's woe. * Tho Czar Alexander II. proclaimed by ukase the liberation of 23,000,000 serfs, Ararch 3, 1861. On March 13, 1881, lie was killed by the explosion of a bomb thrown under his carriage in St. Petersburg. The assassin was also killed. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 121 WAITING FOE THEIR RELEASE. Henry Lansdell. I do not remember any sight in SiLerie that so touched me as this. To see scores of able-bodied men pent up in wards with nothing to do was bad ; to hear the clanking of their chains was worse, though many of th?m were burly fellows who could carry them well. More touching still were the convoys of exiles, with faithful and innocent women following their hus- bands. But to see these old men thus waiting for death, was a most melancholy picture. The doctor inspects the convicts once a month, and determines upon those who are past work, who, in the absence of any specific disease, are then brought into these wards for the remainder of their lives. To release them, the colonel pointed out, would be no charity, because, being too old to work, and being out of the near range of poor-houses or similar institutions, they would simply starve. And thus they were left in confinement for a Higher Power to set them free. They lounged in the prison and in the yard, and some sat near a fire, though it was a sunny day in July. One old man was pointed out who had attained to fourscore years, and another had reached the age of ninety, and so on. The difficult breath- ing of one, however, the wheezing lungs of a second, and the hacking cough of a third, proclaimed in prophetic tones that their time was short ; and one wished them a softer pillow for a dying head than a convict's shelf in a prison ward. Through Siberia. LINES INSCRIBED ON A BOARD IN THE TOLBOOTH OF EDINBURGH. [The Tolbooth has been made famous by Sir Walter Scott under the name of The Heart of Midlothian. In his romance, it becomes the scene of Effie Deans' imprisonment. The following famous lines have been traced to an English poet of the seventeenth century :— ] A prison is a house of care, A place where none can thrive, A touchstone true to try a friend, A grave for men aH\ o : Sometimes a place of right, Sometimes a place of wrong. Sometimes a place for jades and thieves, And honest men among. I'- wm 11 : M' • » ( . II h • i ,\m ■ I ^f 122 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. DYING. Robert Buchanan. ["Buchanan's songa of Lowland siiperstition are light with fancy, and sometimes musical as the chiming of glass bells." — E. C. Stedman.] " O bairn, when I am dead, How shall ye keep frae harm ? What hand will gie ye bread ? What lire will keep ye warm ? How shall ye dwell on earth awa' 'rae me ? " — " O mither, dinna dee ! " " O bairn, by night or day I hear nae sounds ava*, But voices of winds that blaw, And the voices of ghaists that say, ' Come awa' ! come awa' 1 ' The Lord that made the wind and made the sea. Is hard on my bairn and me, And I melt in his breath like snaw." — " O mither, dinna dee ! " " O bairn, it is but closing up the een, And lying down never to rise again. Many a strong man's sleeping hae I seen, — There is nae pain ! I'm weary, weary, and I scarce ken why ; My summer has gone by, And sweet were sleep 'but for the sake o' theo." — " O mither, dinna dee ! " Glossary.— ^?m', away; hairn, child of mine; hlaw, blow; ilcc, die; dinnn, do not; frac, from; ghaists, ghosts; gk, give; viithcr, mother; nae, no. FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 123 TRAPS AND TRAPPING/ In the unbroken forests and wilds of Canada a valuable part of the young pioneer's training consists in learning how to set, and, if need be, how to construct a trap. The settler's ingenuity may be often rewarded by securing for his generally frugal dinner a delicious course of wild-fowl. Then our pioneer's ancient enemies, the bear, the wolf, the lynx, and the wild cat, must be outgeneralled ; and if they succeed in keeping beyond range of the rifle, they must be taken in ambuscade. For large game the " Dead-fall " is tho usual and the effective resort. It is the farmer's good friend all the world over, and disposes of an African lion, a Bengal tiger, and a Canadian bear with the same swift emphasis. The trap takes its name of "Dead-fall" from that long and heavy sloping log which appears in the front of our illustration, and which is weighted at one end by two other reclining logs. At present tlie dead- fall is supported by a three-inch sapling (e), but at the proper moment this " side-polo " lets the heavy lot^ fall on the unwary visitor. We must attack Bruin on his weak side — his love of honey. Before setting the dead-fall a piece of meat smoai'ed with lioney * Based on Camp-Ufc in the Woods, by W. Hamilton Gibson (1881). : riii^ 1 H \i ^ni I' i 11 111 li I |: ! \^\ lit 124 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, is to be placed at the rear end of the pen ; or some honey may simply be smeared on the ground. The dead log is now to be set and weighted. A bear will never hesitate to risk his life where a feast of honey is in view, and the odd arrangement of timber has no fears for him after that tempting bait has once been discovered. Passing beneath the suspended log his heavy paw en- counters the broad board (g) on the treadle-piece, which immedi- ately sinks with his weight. The upright pole (h) at the back of the treadle is thus raised, forcing the latch-piece { COOP TRAP. FOURTH BOOK OF* BEADING LESSONS. 125 When it is desired to catch feathered game alive, there is the excellent device of the " Coop trap." If the young trapper takes with him into the bush a few shingles or bits of paste- board, a dozen tacks, and a ball of twine, he can, with the help of his jack-knife, make and set up a dozen such traps in a fore- noon. If there is no motive for taking the game alive, the simplest resort is the snare. Here the trapper requires a small hatchet and a coil of fine brass " sucker " wire. Some of the favorite forms of snare are here shown. SIMPLEST 8NAUE. POACHQKS HNAUE. UROUND SNAKE. "tUIANCILK" .SNAIIK. n i I. 1^1 126 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LFSSOHS. ' Adown the dim valley so dolefid and dreary." THE DAEK HUNTSMAN. Charles Heavysege (181G-187C). [Our poet's dream was a premonition of death. The Canadian Monthly (August, 187B) that published this last contribution of Heavy sege's, an- nounced also tliat he nad passed away.] I dreamed it was eve, and athwart the gray gloom, Behold ! a dark huntsman, dark coming like doom ; Who, raising his hand, slow wound a weird horn — Far o'er the wide dimness its echoes were borne ; Kang dirge-like and dismal Through skyey abysmal Wherein hung the moon to a crescent down shorn. The blasts of his bugle grew wilder, more eerie, As gayly he galloped, like one never weary, Adown the dim valley so dok;ful and dreary, And woke the tired twilight with echoes foi'lorn. Forlorn were the sounds, and their burden was drear As the sighing of winds in the wane of the year — As the sighing of Avinds in a ghoul-haunted vale. Or howling of spirits in regions of bale : rp The goblin of ruin Black mischief seemed brewing; 127 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. And wringing lier hands at her sudden undoing, The wco-stricken landscape uplifted her wail. I still dreamed my dream, and beheld him career — Fly on like the wind after ghosts of the deer — Fly on like the wind, or the shaft from the bow. Or avalanche urging from regions of snow ; Or star that is shot by the gods from its sphere ; He bore a Winged Fate on the point of his spear ; His eyes were as coals that in frost fiercely glow, Or diamonds in darkness — "Dark Huntsman, what, ho!" " What, ho ! " I demanded, and heard the weird horn Replying with dolefullest breathings of scorn : The moon had gone down, No longer did crown With crescent the landscape, now lying light-lorn ; But rose amidst horror and forms half unseen A cry as of hounds coming hungry and lean ; That swelling sonorous as onward they bore, Filled all the vast air with the many-mouthed roar. Roared, roared the wild hunt; the pack ravened, they flew; The weird horn went winding a dismal adieu; With hubbub appalling Hound unto hound calling, Each fleet-footed monster its shaggy length threw; Till faint grew the echoes, came feebler the bay, As thunder when tempests are passing away. As down the ravine in loud rage the flood goes. As through the looped ruin the hurricane blows, So down the dark valley the eager pack sped With bowlings to Hades, the home of the dead : — Therein they descended like creatures breeze-boi'ne, Or grovelling vapors by distance shape-shorn; And lost in the dej^ths of that shadowy shore. Hounds, horn, and dark huntsman alarmed me no more. For who that is mortal could meet without fear The Figure endowed with the fate-winged spear 1 Or temper his breath At thy presence, O Death, Who huntest for souls as one hunteth the deer ! Canadian Monthly Magazine. r 128 i m It i i ^ i FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. SONNET-TO CHARLES HEAVYSEGE. John Reade, Montreal (b. 1838). A quiet drama was thine outer life, Mcving from primal scene to curtain-fall With modest grace, obedient to the call Of the clear prompter, Duty. Noisy strife For place or power had no part in thee. Self, Thrusting his mate aside for lust of pelf. Awoke thy scorn. No vulgar pettiness Of spirit made thy heaven-born genius less. But on what stage thine inner life was passed ! O'er what a realm thy potent mind was king ! All worlds that are, were at thy marshalling, And a creator of new worlds thou wast. Now art thou one of that immortal throng- In which thy chosen chief* is king of song. Canadian Monthly Magazine (1876). SONNET-UNFULFILLED AMBITION. John Keats (1795-1821). [The following sonnet was first published in the Life and Letters of Keats, edited by Lord Houghton (1848).] When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, — Before hi^h-piled books in charact'ry Hold, like rich garners, the full-ripened grain ; When I behold, upon the night's starred face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance ; And when I feel, fair creature of an houi' ! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love ! — then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink. Shakspeare. FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 129 THE DUTCHMAN'S FAEADISE. Norman Macleod, D.D. (1812-1872). The paradise of a Dutchman is Broeh* This is a village of about seven hundred inhabitants, an hour's journey or so north of Amsterdam. Cross the ferry in a small steamer, proceed for half-an-hour along the great Helder Canal in a trekschuit, — a mode of conveyance, by the way, delightfully national in its order and pace, — then hire a carriage, for which you must pay what is asked or want it, and proceed leisurely along the banks of the canal for three or four miles, until you reach Broek. The peep one gets from the road across the country gives a pe feet idea of Holland, which looks like the flat bottom of a boundless sea, drained or draining oflf; the cattle in the fields, the scattered villages with their steeples, and tall trees here and there, with storks studying in earnest meditation on the margin of long ditches — all assure you that, in the meantime, the land has got the best of it. Yet it is impossible not to have damp, uneasy feelings, lest by some unnoticed power of evil, — an unstopped leakage, dry rot in a sluice-gate, or some mistake or other to which all things mundane are subject, — a dike should burst, and the old Zuyder Zee pour itself like a deluge over the country, leaving you and your carriage out of sight of land. Broek is well worth a peep. The only thing I had ever heard about it in history was the high state of its cleanliness, which had gone so far that the tails of the cows were suspended by cords lest they should be soiled by contact with the ground, * Pr. Brook. 9 mi m ] \u n. ' Bi I 1; I' J ^11 i I ■ i i! 1 I ■I I II 130 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. and afterwards be used to switch the pure and dappled sides of their possessors at any moment when the said possessors were suddenly thrown off their guard by the bite of some unmannerly insect. I can certify to the truth of this caudal arrangement. It seemed, however, to be more cleanly than comfortable. The most ordinary sympathy with suffering caused an irritation in one's skin, as he saw the tail suddenly checked by the string, just when about to descend upon and sweep away a huge fly busy breakfasting about the back-Done or shoulder-blade A model village pre- served in a glass case could not be more free from dust, life, or human interest, than this Broek. A small ' lake and innumerable smijll canals so inter- lace the cottages and streets, that it looks as if built upon a series of islands con- nected by bridges. The streets are all paved to the water's edge with small bricks Each tree is bricked round to the trunk. Bricks keep down earfch, grass, and ^>, damp, and are so thor- oughly scoured and spotless that it is im- possible to walk with- out an uneasy feeling of leaving a stain from some adhering dust of mother Earth. The inhabitants (if there are any) seem to have resigned the town to sight-seekers. I am quite serious when I assure the reader that three travellers, at eleven o'clock in a fine summer forenoon, watched from a spot near the centre of the village, and did not for at least ten minutes see a living thing except a cat stealing slowly towards a bird, which seemed to share the general repose. You ask, very naturally, What were the in- BROEK HOUSEWIVES AT WuUK. the the FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONH. 131 habitants about? I put the same question at the time in a half-whisper, but there w as no one to answer. All experienced, I think, a sort of superstitious awe from the unbroken quiet, so that the striking of the clock made us start. We visited the churchyard (naturally), and found everything arranged with the same regard to order. There are no gi'ave-mounds ; but rows of small black wooden pegs driven into the ground, rising six inches above the grass, with a number on each, a little larger than those used for marking flowers, indicate the place where the late burghers of this Sleepy Hollow finally repose. I have never seen so prosaic and statistical a graveyard. Contrast with this the unfenced spot in a Highland glen, its green grass mingling with the bracken and heather, and its well-marked mound, beside which the sheep and her lamb recline, except when roused by the weeping mourner ! To live in Broek, and be known after death only as a number in its churchyard, would seem to be the perfection of order and the genius of content- ment. To be mentioned by widow and children like an old account, a small sum, an item less from the total of the whole — as " Our poor 46," or " Our dear departed 154 ! " What an "tw memoriam/" The intensity of the prose becomes pleasing to the fancy. THE SEDGE-BIRD'S NEST. John Clark (1793-1864). Fixed in a white-thorn bush, its summer quest, So low, e'en grass o'ertopped its tallest twig, A sedge-bird built its little benty* nest, Close by the meadow pool and wooden brig,t Where school-boys every mom and eve did pass, In seeking nests, and finding, deeply skilled. Searching each bush and taller clump of grass^ Where'er was likelihood of bird to build. Yet she did hide her habitation long. And keep her little brood from danger's eye, Hidden as secret as a cricket's song, Till tt oy, well-fledged, o'er widest pools could fly , Provin^]; that Providence is ever nigh, To guard the simplest of her charge from wrong. * Covered with bent-grass. t Bridge. .1 i ti i-'i ' \\i ',5 l\ m i n tl I' ■ li r i ! J 132 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. NED SOFTLY, THE POET. JoaKi'H Addison. [Tliis playful essay, which formed the sixth munber f>f the Toiler, was, according to Mr. Austin Dobson, Huggested by Scene ix. of Molifere's Precieuses Ridicules (" Pretentious Young Ladies"). The Taller was projected by Steele, and became the moneer of the essay- papers that form so important a feature in the English literature of the eighteenth century. The Taller was published thrice a week, and was sold for a penny. The first number ai)i)eared on Tuesday, April 12, 170O. Its "general purpose," as declared in the preface to the first volume, was "to expose the false arts of life ; to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and affectation ; and to rect)mmend a general simplicity in our dress, our dis- course, and our behavior."] I yesterday came hither about two hours before the company generally make * their appearance, with a design to read over all the newspapers ; but upon my sitting down, I was accosted by Ned Softly, who saw me from a corner in the other end of the room, where I found he had been writing something. "Mr. Bickerstaff," says he, "I observe by a late paper of yours that you and I are just of a humor ; for you must know, of all impertinences, there is nothing which I so much hate as news. I never read a gazette in my life, and never trouble my head about our armies, whether they win or lose,t or in what part of the world they lie encamped." Without giving me time to reply, he drew a paper of verses out of his pocket, telling me that he had something which would entertain me more agree- ably, and that he would desire my judgment upon every line, for that we had time enough before us until the company came in. Ned Softly is a very pretty poet, and a great admirer of easy lines. Waller is his favorite ; and as that admirable writer has the best and worst verses of any among our great English poets, Ned Softly has got all the bad ones without book,| which he repeats upon occasion, to show his reading and garnish his conversation. Ned is indeed p, true English reader, incapable of relishing the great and masterly strokes of this art, but wonderfully pleased with the little Gothic ornaments of epi- grammatical conceits, turns, points, and quibbles, which are so frequent in the most admired of our English poets, and * So Addison. + The war of the Spanish Succession was in progress when this was written, and Marlborough had lately won his four great battles. X That is, by heart. 5ll FOURTH BOOK OF REaDINO LESSONS. 133 practised by those who want genius and strength to represent, after the manner of the ancients, simplicity in its natural beauty and perfection. Finding myself unavoidably engaged in such a conversation, I was resolved to turn my pain into a pleasure, and to divert myself as well as I could with so very odd a fellow. " You must understand," says Ned, "that the sonnet I am going to read to you was written upon a lady who showed me some verses of her own making, and is, perhaps, the best poet of our age. But you shall hear it." Upon which he began to read as follows : — TO MIRA, ON HER INCOMPARABLE POEMS. I. When dressed in laurel wreaths you shine. And tune your soft, melodious notes. You seem a sister of the Nine,* Or Phoebus' f self in petticoats. w. I fancy, when your song you sing (Your song you sing with so much art), Your pen was plucked from Cupid's wing ; For, ah ! it wounds me like his dart. " Why," says I, " this is a little nosegay of conceits, a very lump of salt ; every verse hath something in it that piques, and then the dart in the last line is certainly as pretty a sting in the tail of an epigram (for so I think your critics call it) as ever entered the thought of a poet." — " Dear Mr. Bickerstaff," says he, shaking me by the hand, "everybody knows you to be a judge of these things ; and to tell you truly, I read over Ros- common's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry three several times before I sat down to write the sonnet which I have shown you. But you shall hear it again ; and pray observe every line of it, for not one of them shall pass without your approbation." When dressed in laurel wreaths you shine. " This is," says he, " when you have your garland on ; when * The nine Muses. t Apollo, the god of poets. . ^ \] ■ : \ \ '^' If y m 1 1 M if! ! It li li III 134 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. you are writing verses." To which I replied, "I know your meaning : a metaphor." — "The same," said he, and went on. And tune your soft, melodious notes. " Pray observe the gliding of that verse ; there is scarce a con- sonant in it. I took care to make it run upon liquids. Give me your opinion of it." — "Truly," said I, "I think it as good as the former." — " I am very glad to hear you say so," says he ; " but mind the next." You seem a sister of the Nine. "That is," says he, "you seem a sister of the Muses; for if you look into ancient authors, you will find it was their opinion that there were nine of them." — "I remember it very well," said I ; "brt pray proceed." Or Phoebus' self in petticoats. "Phoebus," says he, "was the god of poetry. These little instances, Mr. Bickerstaff, show a gentleman's reading. Then, to take off from the air of learning which Phoebus and the Muses have given to this first stanza, you may observe how it falls, all of a sudden, into the familiar — ^' in petticoats ! ' " — Or Phoebus' self in petticoats. "Let us now," says I, "enter upon the second stanza; I find the first line is still a continuation of the metaphor." I fancy, when your song you sing. "It is very right," says he; "but pray observe the turn of words in these two lines. I was a whole hour in adjusting of them, and have still a doubt upon me whether, in the second lino, it should be — 'Your song you sing,' or 'You sing your song.' You shall hear them both." (I Or"— I fancy, when your song you sing (Your song you sing with so nmch art). I fancy, when your song you sing (You sing your song with so much art). "Truly," said T, "the turn is so natural either way that you have made me almost giddy with it." — "Dear sir," said he. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 135 grasping me by the hand, " you have a great deal of patience ; but pray what do you think of the next verse 1 " Your pen was plucked from Cupid's wing. " Think ! " says I ; " I think you have made Cupid look like a little goose." — "That was my meaning," says he ; "I think the ridicule is well enough hit off. But we come now to the last, which sums up the whole matter." For, ah ! it wounds me like his dart. " Pray how do you like that * ah ! ' doth it not make a pretty figure in that place ? Ah / it looks as if I felt the dart, and cried out at being pricked with it." For, ah ! it wounds me like his dart. "My friend Dick Easy," continued he, "assured me he would rather have written that ah / than to have been the author of the iEneid. He indeed objected that I made Mira's pen like a quill m one of the lines, and like a dart in the other. But as to that " — " Oh ! as to that," says I, " it is but supposing Cupid to be like a porcupine, and his quills and darts will be the same thing." He was going to embrace me for the hint ; but half-a- dozen critics coming into the room whose faces he did not like, he conveyed the sonnet into his pocket, and whispered me in the ear he would show it me again as soon as his man had written it over fair. The Tatler, No. G, Apnl 25, 1710. GOLDSMITH. William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863). " The most beloved of English writers," — what a title that is for a man ! A wild youth, wayward, but full of tenderness and affection, quits the country village where his boyhood has been passed in happy musing, in fond longing to see the great world, and to achieve a name and fortune. After years of dire struggle, of neglect and poverty, his heart turning back as fondly to his native place as it had longed eagerly for change when sheltered there, he writes a book and a poem, full of the recollections and feelings of home, — he paints the friends and scenes of his youth, and peoples Auburn and Wakefield with remembrances of Lissoy. Wander he must ; but he carries away a home-relic with him. I "■■' l-tt; ! 1 '^ f '< 1 136 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. II and dies with it on his breast. His nature is truant ; in repose it longs for change, as, on the journey, it looks back for friends and quiet. He passes to-day in building an air-castle for to- morrow, or in writing yesterday's elegy; and he would fly away this hour, but that a cage and necessity keeps him. What is the charm of his verse, of his style, and humor, — his sweet regrets, his delicate compassion, his soft smile, his tremulous sympathy, the weakness which he owns 1 Your love for him is half pity. You come hot and tired from the day's battle, and this sweet minstrel sings to you. Who could harm the kind, vagrant harper 1 Whom did he ever hurt ? He carries no weapon, save the harp on which he plays to you, and with which he delights great and humble, young and old, the captains in the tents, or the soldiers round the fire, or the women and children in the villages, at whose porches he stops and sings his simple songs of love and beauty. With that sweet story, " The Vicar of Wake- field," he has found entry into every castle and every hamlet in Europe. Not one of us, however busy or hard, but, once or twice in our -ives, has passed an evening with him, and under - ijone the charm of his delightful music. I have been many a time in the Chambers in the Temple which were his, and passed up the staircase which Johnson and Burke and Reynolds trod to see their friend, their poet, their kind Goldsmith — the stair on which the poor women sate weep- ing bitterly when they heard that that greatest and most gener- ous of all men was dead within the black oak door. Ah, it was a diflferent lot from that for which the poor fellow sighed when ho wrote, with heart-yearning for home, those most charming of all fond verses, in which he fancies lie revisits Auburn : — " Here, as I take my solitary rounds. Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, And, p^any a year elapsed, return to view Whore once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew. Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. " In all my Avanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes my latest h. rs to crown. Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out lifer's taper at the close, And keep the thiiiie from wasting by repose: save FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 137 I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, — Around my fire an evening group to draw. And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue. Pants to the place from whence at first he flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return — and die at home at last. " O blest retirement, friend to life's decline. Retreats from care, that never must be mine. How happy he who crowns in shades like these A youth of labor with an age of ease : Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine or tempt the dangerous deep ; Nor surly porter stands in guilty state. To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; But on he moves to meet his latter end. Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; Bends to the grave with unperceived decay. While resignation gently slopes the way ; And, all his prospect j brightening to the last. His heaven commences ere the world be past ! " The Deserted Village, 77-112. In these verses, I need not say with what melody, with what touching truth, with what exquisite beauty of comparison — as indeed in hundreds more pages of the writings of this honest soul, — the whole character of the man is told : his humble con- fession of faults end weakness, his pleasing little vanity and desire t^at his village should admire him, liis simple scheme of good in which everyl)ody was to be happy — no beggar was to be refused his dinner, nobody was, in fact, to work much, and he to be the harm- less chief of the Utopia, and the monarch of the Irish Yvetot.^ Think of him, reckless, thriftless, vain — if you like — but merciful, gentle, generous, full of love and pity. He passes out of our life, and goes to render his account beyond it. Think of * Yvetot (pr. eve-toe), a tcnvn in Normandy. Tlie lords of tlie the hereditary title of KingH of Yvetot, Bnt the reference is |iar Beranger's famous ballad, "The Khig of Yvetot," in which the firs is slily satirized. town bore , ticularly to first Napoieon 1 ■• :;fl ,1) 'n Mil m 1 ; ) : i 1 :^ ■ 1 1 : ; 1 !|i 1 1 ^i iii ii K 138 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Y , V i! ., ' • i. 5 . ■(v' ^ ■^ ' .'t • If V 4 1' il; ' II' the poor pensioners weeping at his grave, think of the noble spirits that admired and deplored him, think of the righteous pen that wrote his epitaph,* and of the wonderful and unani- mous response of affection with which the world has paid l)ack the love he gave it. His humor delighting us still ; his song fresh and beautiful as when first he charmed with it; his words in all our mouths ; his very weaknesses beloved and familiar; — his benevolent spirit seems still to smile upon us, to do gentle kindnesses, to succor with sweet charity, to soothe, caress, and forgive ; to plead with the fortunate for the unhappy and the poor. The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century, lecture vi. ALAS, SO LONG! Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882). Ah ! dear ore, we were young so long, It seemed that youth would never go ; For skies and trees were ever in song, And water in singing flow, In the days we never again shall know, Alas, so long ! Ah ! then, was it all spring weather ? Nay ; but we were young and together. Ah ! dear one, I've been old so long. It seems that age is loath to part, Though days and years have never a song; And, oh ! have they still the art That warmed the pulses of heart to heart ? Alas, so long ! Ah ! then, was it all spring weather ? Nay ; but we were young and together. Ah ! dear one, youVe been dead so long — Ho .V long until we meet again, Wliere hours may never lose their song. Nor flowers forget the rain. In glad moonlight that never shall wane ? Alas, so long ! Ah ! shall it be then spring weather ? And, ah ! shall we be young together 1 * Goldsmith's monument in Westminster Abbey bears a famous Latin in- scription from the pen of l>r, Johnson, «Mi le noble ighteous 1 unani- aid back bis song is words liliar; — .0 gentle •ess, and and the ture vL iatin in- FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS, THE TAKING OF DETROIT. 139 In the year 1670 the French authorities in Canada built a fort upon the Detroit River, for the double purpose of trading with the Indians and of opposing a barrier to their progress eastward. At the Peace of Paris, in 1768, tJie fort and the little settlement that surrounded it passed, with all the adjacent territory, into the hands of the English ; and twenty years later it became part of the new American Republic. Gradually the little settlement progressed, until in 1842 — the year of our story — it boasted of 1,200 inhabitants ; and now Detroit is a city with a population of 46,000. In 1812 the young Republic of the United States declared war against the British Empire ; cloaking their real design — which was that of conquering Canada and her sister Provinces — under the pretence of avenging an imaginary insult offered Pl... '^j^ to the American marine. General Hull, an old Revolutionary officer, left the fort at Detroit, and crossed over into Canada with 2,500 men, to take possession of the country ; but after three successive attacks upon the little village of Amherstburg — garrisoned by only 300 regulars and a few Indians, under Colonel St. George — he was compiiHod to return, and shut him- self up in the old French fort. U il i ill rf I": i : I; t if- i f- 140 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 1* ii:. ,' I \'\ i ) M H Sir Isaac Brock was at this time the Grovernor of Upper Canada. He was a brave and skilful general, and had served with great distinction in the European campaigns. Beloved alike by the soldiers who fought under him and the people whom he governed, no man could be better fitted for meeting the exigencies of the time. In the whole of the Upper Prov- ince, however, there were during the period of his government only 80,000 men, women, and children, scattered over a wide tract of country. From his head-quarters in Toronto, the general sent Colonel Procter, with a small detachment, to reinforce the garrison at Amherstburg, leaving himself with only ninety men. This little force he sent off towards Long Point, Lake Erie, to raise a body of 200 militia, and to prepare means of transportation. Two hundred volunteers from York and the surrounding country responded to his call ; and on the 6th of August Sir Isaac set out, amid the tears and applause of the little town's inhabitants, '^.t the head of his newly raised army. While passing the .:rand River, he held a council with the Indians, who were glad to have an opportunity of wiping out old scores with the " long-knives," as they called the Americans, and who promised to meet him at Amherstburg. On the 8th the little band of Canadian patriots arrived at Long Point, the end of their weary march, where the assembled reinforcements had provided a number of small boats for accomplishing the re- mainder of the journey. The distance from Long Point to Amherstburg is two hundred ^niles, over a rough sea, and along a coast presenting no means of shelter against the weather. This long journey was performed after four days and nights of incessant labor. At midnight, on the 13th, the motley fleet of transports arrived at its destination. Great was the rejoicing when the general arrived in Amherst- burg. The regulars cheered, the volunteers shouted, and the Indians could hardly be restrained from firing away all their ammunition at the prospect of a battle under such a leader. The whole of the Canadian force now amounted to 1,300 men ; comprising 600 Indians under the celebrated Tecumseh, 300 regulars, and 400 volunteers "disguised in red coats." All the artillery consisted of five small guns, vvhich were planted upon an ekn^ated bank opposite Detroit. On the 15th the gunners stood to their pieces, o.waiting the signal to fire on the enemy's position across the river. General Brock sent a summons to w FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 141 of Upper ad served Beloved he people r meeting •per Prov- ivernment 3r a wide it Colonel arrison at m. This e, to raise portation. rrounding .ugust Sir tie town's f. While ) Indians, old scores , and who I the little he end of lents had the re- Point to and along weather, nights of iy fleet of Amherst- and the all their a leador. 500 men ; iseh, 300 All the ited upon gunners enemy's imons to g the Americans to surrender, which they indignantly rejected ; and immediately the little battery began to play upon the fort and village. Next day the Canadian army crossed the river between three and four miles below Detroit, to meet the enemy on their own ground. When the disembarkation was completed, General Brock sent forward the Indians as skirmishers upon the right and left, and advanced with the remainder of his force to within a mile of the fort. From its high sodded parapets, surrounded by tall rows of wooden palisades and a wide and deep ditch, thirty pieces of cannon frowned down upon the besiegers. Its garrison consisted of 400 soldiers of the United States regular army. A larger body of Ohio volunteers occupied an intrenched position flanking the approach to the fort ; while on the right a detachment of 600 militia from Ohio and Michi- gan was rapidly advancing. Another considerable force held the town ; making the total strength of the enemy about 2,500 men. In spite of the great disparity of the opposing armies, and of the formidable preparations made by the enemy, General Brock prepared to carry the fort by assault. The Indians advanced within a short distance of the American forces, uttering their shrill war-cries, and keeping up an incessant fire upon their more exposed positions. The regulars and the volunteers examined the priming of their muskets, and prepared to scale the palisades and walls of the fort. All was in readiness for an immediate attack ; when a gate suddenly opened, and, to the astonishment of the gallant Canadian general, an American officer advanced towards him bearing a flag of truce. An hour afterwards General Hull surrendered the whole of his com- mand, and the Canadian army marched into the quarters of the enemy. By the terms of this capitulation, two thousand live hundred prisoners, as many stand of arms, thirty-three pieces of cannon, a large store of ammunition, three months' provisions, and a vessel of war, fell into the hands of the conquerors. So signal a victory, gained by a small and hastily collected force, is one of which every loyal British subject in America was justly proud. ■I ■i] ■■\l\ \-m it 142 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. i\ \\ t n ■■ \ I Hi i: I II TECUMSEH. Francis Hall (b. 1770). [Lieutenant Hall of the 14th Light Dragoons travelled through Canada and the United States in 1816 and 1817. Among the early descriptions of Upper Canada, Hall's is valuable for accurate observation and artistic treatment. His " Travels " immediately passed through two editions; the second in 1819.] Among the warriors of the West, the most distinguished was Tecumseh, a Shawnee chieftain, whose courage and com- manding talents recommended him, early in the war, not only to the notice but to the personal esteem and admiration of Sir Isaac Brock. Tecumseh perceived the necessity of a general Indian confederacy as the only permanent barrier to the dominion of the States. What he had the genius to conceive, he had the talents to execute : eloquence and address, courage, penetration, and, what in an Indian is more remarkable than these, undeviating temperance. Under better auspices, this Amphictyonic* league might have been effected, but after the death of his friend and patron he found no kindred spirit with whom to act. Stung with grief and indignation, after up- braiding in the bitterest sarcasms the retreat of our forces, he engaged an American detachment of mounted riflemen near the Moravian village, and having rushed forward singly to en- counter their commanding officer, whom he mistook for General Harrison, he fell by a pistol l3all. The exultation of the Americans on his death afford unerring, because unintended, evidence of the dread his talents had inspired. TO THE MEMORY OP TECUMSEH. Tecumseh has no grave, but eagles dipt Their rav'ning beaks, and drank his stout heart's tide, Leaving his bones to whiten where he died : His skin by Christian tomahawks was stript From the bared fibres ! f Impotence of pride ! Triumphant o'er the earthworm, but in vain Deeming the impassive spirit to deride. Which, nothing or immortal, knows no pain ! * A confederation of the ancient Greek states for national purposes, t The riflemen are said to have cut off strips of his skin to preserve as trophies. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 143 igh Canada criptiona of md artistic litions; the inguished and com- not only Lon of Sir a general r to the conceive, , courage, able than lices, this after the pirit with I after up- 'orces, he 1 near the [y to en- r General of the intended, art's tide, 3! Might ye torment him to this earth again, That were an agony : his children's blood Deluged his soul, and like a fiery flood, Scorched up his core of being. Then the stain Of flight was on him, and the wringing thought. He should no more the crimson hatchet raise. Nor drink from kindred lips his song of praise ; So liberty, he deemed, with life was cheaply bought. Travels in Canada and the United States. THE LAST WOBB. Matthew Arnold. Creep into thy narrow bed. Creep, and let no more be said ! Vain thy onset ! All stands fast. Thou thyself must break at last. Let, let the long contention cease ! Geese are swans, and swans are geese. Let them have it how they will ! Thou art tired ; best be still. They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee — Better men fared thus before thee — Fired their ringing shot and passed, Hotly charged — and sank at last. Charge once more, then, and be done ! Let the victors when they come, When the forts of folly fall. Find thy body at the wall Poems (ed. 1880). ! oses. jreaerve as HEROISM. They never fail who die In a great cause : the block may soak their gore; Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls — But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to freedom. Byron : Marino Faliero. , I o pq m H < U M ■"1 & c B H A < FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LEiSiiONii. 145 i*i § f 1; 1^ o n CO H u M H eight THE GREAT EARTEaUAKE. Sir John F. W. Herschel (1792-1871). Volcanic eruptions are almost always preceded by earth- quakes, by which the beds of rock that overlie and ke(^p down the struggling powers beneath are dislocated and cracked, till at last they give way, and the; strain is immediately relieved. It is chiefly when this does not happen, when tlie force below is sufficient to heave up and shake the earth, but not to burst open the crust and give vent to the lava and gases, that the most destructive effects are produced. The great earthquake of November 1, 1755, which destroyed Lisbon, was an instance of this kind, and was one of the greatest, if not the very greatest on record ; for the concussion extended over all Spain and Portugal — indeed over all Europe, and even into Scotland over North Africa, where in one town in Morocco thousand or ten thousand people perished. Nay, its effects extended even across the Atlantic to Madeira, where it was very violent ; and to the West Indies. The most striking feature about this earthquake was its extreme suddenness. All was going on quite as usual in Lisbon on the morning of that memorable day : the weather fine and clear ; and nothing what- ever to give the population of that great capital the least sus- picion of mischief. All at once, at twenty minutes before ten A.M., a noise was heard like the rumbling of carriages under- ground ; it increased rapidly, and beciune a succession of deafening explosions, like the loudest cannon. Then a shock, which, as described by one writing from the spot, seemed to last but the tenth part of a minute, and down came tumbling palaces, churches, theatres, and every large public edifice, and about a third or a fourth part of the dwelling-houses. More shocks followed in rapid succession, and in six minutes from the commencement sixty thousand persons were crushed in the ruins. Here are the simple but expressive words of one J. Latham, who writes to his uncle in London : " I was on the river with one of my customers going to a village three miles off! Presently the boat made a noise as if on the shore or landing, thougli then in tlu^ middle of the water. I asked my companion if he knew wliat was the matter. He stared at me, and looking at Lisbon — we saw the houses falling, which made him say, ' God bless us, it is an earthquake ! ' About four or 10 Ml ■ ■■ 'l : t I " n 146 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, five minutes after, the boat made a noise as before ; and we saw the houses tumble down on both sides of the river." They then landed and made for a hill ; whence they beheld the sea (which had at first receded and laid a great tract dry) come rolling in, in a vast mountain wave fifty or sixty feet high, on the land, and sweeping all before it. Three thousand people had taken refuge on a new stone quay, or jetty, just completed at great expense. In an instant it was turned topsy-turvy ; and the whole quay, and every person on it, with all the vessels moored to it, disappeared, and not a vestige of them ever appeared again. Where that quay had stood was afterwards found a depth of one hundred fathoms (six hundred feet) water. It happened to be a religious festival, and most of the population were assembled in the churches, which fell and crushed them. That no horror might be wanting, fires broke out in innumerable houses where the wood- work had fallen on the fires ; and much that the earth- quake had spared was destroyed by fire. And then, too, broke forth that worst of all scourges, a lawless, ruffian-like mob, which plundered, burned, and murdered in the midst of" all that desola- tion and horror. The huge wave I have spoken of swept the whole coast of Spain and Portugal. Its swell and fall were ten or twelve feet at Madeira. It swept quite across the Atlantic, and broke on the shores of the West Indies. Every lake and firth in England and Scotland was dashed for a moment out of its bed, the water not partaking of the sudden shove given to the land; just as when you splash a flat saucerful of water, the water dashes over on the side from which the shock is given. One of the most curious incidents in this earthquake was its effect on ships far out at sea, which would lead us to suppose that the immediate impulse was in the nature of a violent blow or thrust upwards, under the bed of the ocean. Thus it is re- corded that this upward shock was so sudden and violent on a ship at that time forty leagues from Cape St. Vincent, that the sailors on deck were tossed up into the air to a height of eighteen inches. So also, on another occasion in 1796, a British ship eleven miles from land near the Philippine Islands was struck upwards from below with such force as to unship and split up the main-mast. Familiar Lectures on Scientific Subjects (1867). FOURTH BOOK OF BEADlNQ LESSONS. 147 HEEGULES AND NERETTS AT THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES. William Morris (b. 1834). fOne of the twelve labors imposed upon Hercules by Eurys'theus (tri- Hyllablo), King of Mycenae, was the delivery to him of throe golden apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. Thia myth, as told by various poets, varies much in the details. Mr. Morris here follows the version which re- presents Hercules as making his way to the garden imder the guidance of Nereus (dissyllable). Hesiod describes the Hesperides ( '* Western Maidens ") as dwelling on the African coast, over against modern Gibraltar. This beau- tiful poem revives the style and versification of Chaucer.] They drew unto that wall and dulled their fear: Fair wrought it was, as though with bricks of brass; And images upon its face there were, Stories of things a long while come to pass; Nor that alone — as looking in a glass, Its maker knew the tales of what should be. And wrought them there for bird and beast to see. So on they went : the many birds sang sweet Through all that blossomed thicket from above. And unknown flowers bent down before their feet ; The very air, cleft by the gray-winged dove, Throbbed with sweet scent and smote their souls with love : Slowly they went, till those twain stayed before A strangely-wrought and iron-covered door. They stayed, too, till o'er noise of wind and bird And falling flower, there rang a mighty shout. As the strong man his steel-bound club upreared, And drave it 'gainst the hammered iron stout. Where 'neath his blows flew bolt and rivet out. Till shattered on the ground the great door lay. And into the guarded place bright poured the day. The strong man entered, but his fellow stayed Leaning against a tree-trunk as they deemed. They faltered now, and yet, all things being weighed, Went on again ; and thought they must have dreamed Of the old man, for now the sunlight streamed Full on the tree he had been leaning on. And him they saw not go, yet was he gone : ti \ il tii 11 ! 148 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. \ ■: Only a slim lizard flitted there Amidst the dry leaves ; him they noted naught, But, trembling, through the doorway 'gan to peer. And still of strange and dreadful saw not aught, Only a garden fair beyond all thought. And there 'twixt sun and shade. On some long-sought-for end belike intent. the strong man went They 'gan to follow down a narrow way Of greensward that the lilies trembled o'er. And whereon thick the scattered rose-leaves lay ; But a great wonder weighed upon them sore. And well they thought they should return no more : Yet scarce a pain thai seemed ; they looked to meet, efore they died, things strange and fair and sweet. B' So still to riglit and left the sti'ong man thrust The blossomed boughs, and passed on steadily. As though his hardy heart he well did trust, Till in a while he gave a joyous cry, And hastened on, as though the end drew nigh ; J^ n I women's voices then they deemed they heard, Mixed with a noise that made desire afeard. I I nil Yv t> through sweet scents and sounds on did they bear Their panting hearts, till the path ended now^ In a wide space of green : a streamlet clear From out a marble basin there did flow ; And close by that a slim-trunked tree did grow, And on a bough low o'er the water cold There hung three apples of red gleaming gold. Now the strong man amid the green space stayed, And, leaning on his club, with eager eyes But brow yet smooth, in voice yet friendly said : *' O daughters of old II(^sperus tlie Wis(\ Well have you held your guard hero ; Imt tim<^ tries The very will of gods, and to my hand Must give this day the gold fruit of your land." The Earthly Paradise FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSON'S. 149 SITUATION AND TREATMENT OF THE LOYALISTS DURING THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. Rev. Egbrton Ryerson, D.D., LL.D. (1803-1882). [On the 4th July 1776, the American Colonies declared themselves " free and independent States" (Declaration of Independence, Art. 3S). A oon- sidei'able minority, however, of the colonists strongly supported the "unity of the Empire," as it is styled in Imperial Orders in Ctmncil, and so became known in Canada as the United Emjnre (U.E.) Loyalists. In the United States they were simply " The Loyalists ; " or they bore the nickname of "Tories," while the self-styled " Patriots " were by them in turn nicknamed "Whigs," both nicknames being of course V)nrrowcd from English politics. The designation U.E. Loyalists is projjcrly applied to those only who "joined the royal standard in America before the Treaty of Separation in the year 1783 ;" and under an Im[)erial Order in Council of 1789, from which this definition is taken, a list of such persons was made out, " to the end that their posterity might bo discriminated from the then future settlers." L)r. Ryerson, who wrote the following account, was the son of Lieutenant Ryerson, a U.E. Loyalist who settled first in New Brunswick and after- wards in Upper Canada.] The condition of the United Empire Loyalists, for several months before as well as after the Declaration of Independence, was humiliating to freemen and perilous in the extreme ; and that condition became still more pitiable after the alliance of the revolutionists with the French — the hereditary enemies of both England and the colonies. From the beginning the Loyalists were deprived of the freedom of the press and of freedom of assemblage, and were under an espionage universal, sleepless, malignant — subjecting the Loyalists to every species of insult, to arrest and imprisonment at any moment, and to the seizure and confiscation of their property. Before the Declaration of Independence both parties were confessedly British subjects, professing allegiance to the same sovereign and constitution of government, both professing and avowing their adherence to the rights of British subjects; but differing from each other as to the extent of those rights, in contradistinction to the constitutional rights of the crown and those of the people, as in the case of party discussions of all constitutional questions, whether in the colonies or the mother country, for centuries past. Both parties had their advocates in the British Parliament ; and while the prerogative advocates supported the corrupt Ministry of the day — or the King's Party, as it was called — the Opposition in Parliament supported the petitions and remonstrances of those colonists who claimed a ifl ■r( I : ;■ 160 FOURTH BOOK OF READir 1 LESSONS. ir ^11 ^ ' I ii more popular colonial government. But all the advocates of the constitutional rights of the colonists in both Houses of Parlia- ment disclaimed, on the part of those whom they represented, the least idea of independence or separation from England. The Declaration of Independence essentially changed the relations of parties, both in Great Britain and America. The party of independence — getting, after months of manipulation by its leaders, first a majority of one in the Congress, and after- wards increasing that majority by various means — repudiated their former professed principles of connection with England ; broke faith with the great men and parties in England, both in and out of Parliament, who had vindicated their rights and professions for more than ten years ; broke faith also with their numerous fellow-subjects in America who adhered to the old faith, to the old flag, and connection with England, and who were declared by resolutions of conventions, from Congress, provinces, counties, to townships and towns, enemies of their country, rebels and traitors, and treated as such. Even before the Declaration of Independence, some of these popular meet- ings, called conventions, assumed the legislation and government, and dealt at highest functions of pleasure with the rights, liberties, property, and even lives of their Tory fellow- citizens. There had been violent words, terms of mutual reproach, as in all cases of hot political contests ; but it was for the advocates of independent liberty to deny to the adherents of the old faith all liberty of speech or of opinion, except under penalties of imprisonment or banishment, with confiscation of property. For a large portion of the community to be thus stripped of their civil rights by resolutions of a coi^. vention, and reduced to the position of proscribed aliens or slaves, must have been galling to Loyalists beyond expression, and well calculated to prompt them to outbreaks of passion and retaliations of resentment and revenge, each such act followed by a corresponding act from the opposite party. It might be supposed that forbearance and respect would have been shown to those who remained "steadfast and im- movable" in the traditional faith of British monarchy and British connection, notwithstanding a corrupt and arbitrary party was in power for the time being ; but the very reverse of this was the case on the part of those who professed, as one cardinal article of their political creed, that " all men are bom free and equal," and therefore that every man had an equal FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 151 right to his opinions, and an equal right to the expression of them. But all this was reversed in the treatment of the Loyalists. The Loyalists of America and their Times, chap, xxxvi. (2nd ed,, 1880). THE OLD HOME. L. E. Landon (1802-1838). I left my home ; — 'twas in a little vale, Sheltered from snow-storms by the stately pines ; A small clear river wandered quietly, Its smooth waves only cut by the light barks Of fishers, and but darkened by the shade The willows flung, when to the southern wind They threw their long green tresses. On the slope Were five or six white cottages, whose roofs Reached not to the laburnum's height, whose boughs Shook over them bright showers of golden bloom. Sweet silence reigned around ; no other sound Came on the air than when the shepherd made The reed-pipe rudely musical, or notes From the wild birds, or children in their play Sending forth shouts of laughter. Strangers came Rarely or never near the lonely place. — I went into far countries ; years passed by, But still that vale in silent beauty dwelt Within my memory. Home I came at last. I stood upon a mountain height, and looked Into the vale below ; and smoke arose, And heavy sounds ; and through the thick dim air Shot blackened turrets, and brick walls, and roofs Of the red tile. I entered in the streets : There were ten thousand hurrying to and fro; And masted vessels stood upon the river. And barges sullied the once dew-clear stream. Where were the willows ? where the cottages ? I sought my home ; I sought, — and found a city. Alas for the green valley ! i :>l<\ It. i-.«r m. 152 ■•'■t. I' I- m It 4 ' !. t h i i! til '< 'ii P#j|! FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. TOMMY'S DEAD. Sydney Dobell (*' Sydney Yendys")— 1824-1874. You may give over plough, boys, You may take the gear to the stead ; All the sweat o' ycur brow, boys, Will never get beer and bread. The seed's waste, I know, boys; There's not a blade will grow, boys; Tis cropped out, I ..;0W, boys, And Tommy's dead. Send the ccH to the fair, boys, — He's going blind, as I said. My old eyes can't bear, boys. To see him in the shed ; The cow's dry and spare, boys. She's neither here nor there, boys, I doubt she's badly bred; Stop the mill to-morn, boys, There'll be no more corn, boys. Neither white nor red. There's no sign of grass, boys, You may sell the goat and the ass, l)oys, The land's not what it was, boys, And the beasts must be fed. You may turn Peg away, boys, You may pay off old Ned ; We've had a dull day, boys, And Tommy's dead. Move my chair on the floor, boys, Let me turn my head : She's standing there in the door, boys, Your sister Winifred ! Take her away from mc, boys. Your sister Winifred ! Move me round in my place, boys, Let me turn my head ; Take her away from me, boys. As she lav on her death-bed — : FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 153 The bones of her thin face, boys, As she lay on her death bed ! I don' o know how it be, boys, When all's done and said. But I see her looking at me, boys, Wherever I turn my head ; Out of the big oak-tree, boys, Out of the garden-bed. And the lily as pale as she, boys, And the rose that used to be red. There's something not right, boys, But I think it's not in my head; I've kept my precious sight, Ijoys — The Lord be hallowed ! Outside and in The ground is cold to my tread. The hills are wizen and thin, The sky is shrivelled and shred ; The hedges down by the loan I can count them bone by bone, The leaves are open and spread. But I sec the teeth of the land, And hands like a dead man's hand. And the eyes of a dead man's head. There's nothing but cinders and sand, The rat and the mouse have fled, And the summer's empty and cold; Over valley and wold. Wherever I turn my head. There's a mildew and a mould ; The sun's going out overhead. And I'm very old. And Tommy's dead. What am I staying for, boys ? You're all bom and bred — 'Tis fifty years and more, boys. Since vife and I were wed'; And she's gone before, boys, And Tommy 's d ead. i '■ Mill fii 154 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. .!:iipj| She was always sweet, boys, Upon his curly head. She knew she'd never see't, boys. And she stole off to bed. I've been sitting up alone, boys, For he 'd come home, he said ; But it's time I was gone, boys, For Tommy's dead. I ! Put the shutters up, boys, Bring out the beer and bread ; Make haste and sup, boys, For my eyes are heavy as lead. There's something wrong i' the cup, boys, There 's something ill wi' the bread ; I don't care to sup, boys, And Tommy's dead. lui not right, I doubt, boys, I've such a sleepy head; I shall never more be stout, boys. You may carry me to bed. What are you about, boys ? The prayers are all said. The fire's raked out, boys. And Tommy 's dead. The stairs are too steep, boys. You may carry me to the head ; The night's dark and deep, boys, Your mother's long in bed. 'Tis time to go to sleep, boys, And Tommy's dead. I'm not used to kiss, boys; You may shake my hand instead. All things go amiss, boys; You may lay me where she is, boy.:. And I '11 rest my old head. 'Tis a poor world this, boys, And Tommy's dead. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 155 THE BRIDGE OF SIOH9, VENICE, VENICE. Lord Byron (1788-1824). I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : h hi M u V'i i?r 156 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ^. t> A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Looked to the winggd Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles ! She looks a sea CybSle, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers A.t airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers : And such she was — her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showsrs. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased. In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore. And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die. Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy ! But unto us she hath a spell beyond Her name in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond Above the dogeless city's vanished sway ; Ours is a trophy which will not decay With the Rialto : Shylock and the Moor, And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away — The keystones of the arch ! though all were o'er, For us repeopled were the solitary shore. Childe Harold^ canto iv., stanzas 1-4. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Framewm'k of Shakspeare's Play. In the beautiful Italian citv of Venice there dwelt in former times a Jew, by name Shylock, who had grown rich by lending money at high interest to Christian merchants. No one liked Shylock, he was so hard and so cruel in his dealings; but i fOUBTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 167 perhaps none felt such an abhorrence of his character as a young Venetian named Antonio. This hatred was amply re- turned by Shylock ; for Antonio was so kind to people in distress that he would lend them money without taking interest. Dearest of all Antonio's friends was Bassanio, a young man of high rank, though possessed of but small fortune. One day Bassanio came to tell Antonio that he was about to marry a wealthy lady ; but that to meet the expense of wedding such an heiress, he needed the loan of three thousand ducats. Antonio had not the money to lend his friend, but he offered to borrow the required sum of Shylock, on the security of vessels which he expected home soon. Together they repaired to the money-lender ; and Antonio asked for three thousand ducats. Shylock remembered now all that Antonio had done to offend him ; but he thought he would pretend to feel kindly, and said : "I would be "riends with you. I will forget your treatment of me, and supply your wants without taking interest for my money." Antonio was, of course, very mucli surprised at such words. But Shylock repeated them ', only requiring that they should go to some lawyer, before whom — as a jest — Antonio should swear, that if by a certain day he did not repay the money, he would forfeit a pound of flesh, cut from any part of his body which the Jew might choose. ♦4 !B»iin]j| Wl I- 1 1: j ri I 158 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. H |t I 1 • ! "I will sign to this bond," said Antonio; "and will say there is much kindness in it." Bassanio mistrusted Shy lock; but he could not persuade his friend against the agreement, and Antonio signed the bond, thinking it was only a jest, as Shylock had snid. Bassanio then went to the house of Portia, the rich lady whom he expected to marr;). But no sooner had he been accepted as her lover than a messenger entered bringing tidings from Antonio ; after reading which Bassanio turned so pale that his lady asked him what was amiss. He told her of all Antonio's kindness to him, and that as his ships were lost, his bond was forfeited. Portia said that sucli a friend should not lose so much as a hair of his head by the fault of Bassanio, and that gold must be found to pay the money. In order to make all her possessions liis, she said that she would even marry her lover that day, so that he might start at once to the help of Antonio. So in all haste the young couple were wedded. Bassanio immediately set out for Venice, where he found his friend in prison. The time of payment was past, and Shylock would not accept the money offered liim : nothing would do now, he said, but the pound of flesh. So a day was appointed for the case to be tried before the Duke of Venice. Portia had spoken cheeringly to her husband when he left her, but her own heart began to sink when she was alone. So strong was her desire to save one who had been so true a friend to her Bassanio that she determined to go to Venice and speak in defence of Antonio. Having obtained from a legal friend the robes of a counsellor, and also much advice as to how she should act, she started with her maid Nerissa, and arrived at Venice on the day of the trial. In spite of her youthful ap- pearance, Portia (who called herself Doctor Balthasar) was allowed to plead for Antonio, and entered the court disguised in flowing robes and wearing a large wig. The importance of her work gave Portia courage ; and she began her address to Shylock by telling him of mercy : — " The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle I'ain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 159 say there 5ck; but ent, and Shylock the rich he been 5 tidings so pale 3r of all lost, his )uld not nio, and to make arry lier help of d. mnd his Shylock ould do •pointed he left tie. So I friend 1 speak friend ow she ved at 'ul ap- was guised tnce of ress to >•) The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above this sceptred sway : It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself ; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. — Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy." Act iv., scene 1. But Shylock 's only answer was that he would insist upon the penalty. Bassanio then publicly offered the payment of the three thousand ducats; but Shylock still refused it, and declared that he would take nothing but the promised pound of flesh. Bassanio was now terribly grieved, and asked the learned young counsellor to "wrest the law a little." " It must not be ; there is no power in Venice can alter a decree established," said Portia. Shylock, hearing her say this, believed she would now favor him, and exclaimed : " A Daniel come to judgment ! O wise young judge, how do I honor thee ! " It was in vain to talk to Shylock of mercy. He began to sharpen a knife, and cried out that time was being lost. So Portia asked if the scales were in readiness ; and if a surgeon were near, lest Antonio should bleed to death. "It is not so named in the bond," said Shylock. "It were good you did so much for charity," returned Portia. Charity and mercy, however, were nothing to the money- lender, who sharpened his knife, and called upon Antonio to prepare. But Portia bade him tarry ; there was .something more to hear. Though the law, indeed, gave him a pound of flesh, it did not give him one single drop of blood ; and if, in cutting oil' the flesh, he shed one drop of Antonio's blood, his possessions were confiscated by the law to the State of Venice ! A murmur of applause ran through the court at the wise thought of the young counsellor ; for it was clearly impossible for the flesh to be cut without the shedding of blood, and there- fore Antonio was safe. Shylock then said that he would take if I [ n iif 160 Fourth book of rfadinu lessons. the money Bassanio had oftbred; and Bassanio cried out gladly, " Here it is ! " on which Portia stopped him, saying that Shy- lock should have nothing but the penalty named in the bond. " Give me my money and I will go ! " cried Shylock once more ; and once more Bassanio would have given it had not Portia again interfered. "Tarry," she said; "the law hath yet another hold on you." Then she stated that, for consi:)iring against the life of a citizen of Venice, th(3 law compelled him to forfeit all his wealth, and that his own life was at the mercy of the duke. The duke said that he would grant him his life before he asked it ; one-half of his riches only should go to the State, the other half should be Antonio's. More merciful of heart than his enemy could have expected, Antonio declared that he did not desiie Shylock's property, if he would make it over at his death to his own daughter, whom he had discai'ded for marrying a Christian. Shylock agreed, and begged leave to go away ; and the court was dismissed, and the duke departed, bidding Bassanio reward the able young counsellor who had done so much for his friend. The young counsellor would accept of nothing but the ring on Bassanio's finger, which the latter declared was a present from his wife, and with which he had vowed never to part. At last he consented, chiefly because Antonio urged him strongly to do so, saying, — ■ i II Lit gladly, that Shy- e bond. ock once had not hath yet onsj>iring led him he mercy his life [50 to the xpected, >perty, if , whom agreed, sed, and e young the ring present to part, strongly FOURTH BOOK OF llEADINU LESSONS. 101 " My Lord Bassanio, let him have tlu; ring : Let his deservings, and my love; withal, Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandement." Act iv., scene 1. When Bassanio afterwards met Portia at her home, she charged liim with having broken his word. All was then explained, and gr(;at was the happin(?ss of Bassani(j when he discovered that his friend's lifti had been savtjd by his wife's ingenuity. ANALYSIS OF SHYLOCK'S CHARACTER. August Wilhelm von Schlkuel (1707-1845). The Merchant of Venice is one of Shakspeare's most perfect works; and Shy lock, the Jew, is one of the inimitabU; master- pieces of characterization which are to be found only in Shak- speare. It is easy for both poet and player to exhibit a cari- cature of national sentiments, modes of speaking, and gestures. Shylock, however, is everything but a common Jew : he jiossesses a strongly -marked and original individuality, and yet we perceive a light touch of Judaism in everything he says or does. We almost fancy we can hear a light whisper of the Jewish accent even in the written words, such as we sometimes still find in the higher classes, notwithstanding their social refinement. In tranquil moments all that is foreign to the European blood and Christian sentiments is less perceptible; bui in passion the national stamp comes out more strongly marked. All these inimitable niceties the finished art of a great actor can alone properly express. Shylock is a man of information, in his own way, even a thinker, only he has not discovered the region where human feelings dwell ; his morality is founded on the disbelief in goodness and magnanimity. The desire to avenge the wrongs and indignities heaped uj^on his nation is, after avarice, his strongest si)ring of action. His hat(^ is naturally directed chiefly against those Christians who are actuated by truly Christian sentiments : a disinterested love of our neighbor seems to him the most unrelenting persecution of the Jews. The letter of the law is his idol ; he refuses to lend an ear to the voice of mercy, which, from the mouth of Portia, speaks to him with heavenly eloquence : he insists on rigid and inflexible justice, and at last it recoils on his own head. Di'amatic Art and Literature. 11 • i .(. '•'•' \ \:mm Ml I' I ii 162 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. SCENES FROM THE MEEGHANT OF VENICE. Act I., Scene 3: Venice. A Public Place. Enter Bassanio and Phylock. Shy. Tliree thousand ducats ; well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. Shy. For three months ; well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. S'/iv/. Antonio shall become bound ; well. Bass. May you stead * me 1 will you pleasure me ? shall I know your answer ? Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound. Bass. Your answer to that ? Shy. Antonio is a good man. Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary 1 Shy. Oh, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. Yet liis means are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I understand, moreover, upon the E-ialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England ; and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land-rats and water-rats, land- thieves and water-thieves, — I mean pirates ; and then there is the pei'il of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwith- standing, sufficient. Three thousand ducats ;— I think I may take his l»ond. Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? Bas,^. If it please you to dine with us. Shy. Yos, to smell })ork; to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will })uy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so follow- ing; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. — What news on the Hialto? — Who is he comes here? * Stead, help; stand in my [dace. { E. bound, shall I bitonio r1 [ a good Yet und to upon id; and ire but 5, land- here is Dtwith- I may ired, I [i your with Pollow- with \1 POUETH BOOR OF BEADING LESSONS. Miter Antonio. Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 163 looks Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican 1 I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, but brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails. Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe. If I forgive him ! Bass. Shy lock, do you hear ? Shi/. I am debating of my present store ; And, by the near guess of my memory, I caiuiot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tril)e. Will furnish me. But soft ! . how many months Do you desire? — [To Ant] Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow, By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the lipe wants of my friend, I'll break a custom. Is he yet possessed How much he would ? Shi/. Ay, ay, three tliousand ducats. Ant. And for three months. Shi/. I had forgot ; — three months ; you told me so. Well then, Go with me to a notary, seal me there Your single bond ; and, in a uu^rry sport, If you repay me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Expressed in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an eijual pound Of your fair Hesh, to \h\ cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. Atit. Content, i' faith : I'll seal to such a ]»ond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. I 'i ! i V'\.'. n. ' I : 164 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : I'll ratlun- dwell in my necessity. Ant. Why, fear not, man ; 1 will not forfeit it : Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this oond. Sh/j. O father Abi'am, what these Christians ai'e, W hose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others ! — Pray you, tell me this : If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeiture 1 A pound of man's llesh taken from a man Is not so estimable, profitable neither. As Hesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. To buy his favor, I extend this friendship : If he will take it, so ; if n(jt, adieu ; And, for my love, I pi'ay you wrong me not. Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Sh//. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's : Give him directions for this merry bond, And I will go and purse the ducats straight ; See to uiy house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave; and presently I will be with you. uint. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock. The Hebrew will turn Clnnstian : he grows kind. Jmiks. I like not fair terms and j* villain's mind. Ant. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; My ships (joine houu; a month befoie the day. [^Exeiutt Act IV., Scene 1. Antonio : — I pray you, think ; you question with the Jew : You may as well go stand upon the b(»ach, And bid tlu^ main Hood bat(^ his usual lu'ight ; You may as well use (|U(^stion with the wolf, Why he hath made the ewe bleat for tlu^ lamb; You may as well foi'bid the mountain pines To wag their high tops, and to make uo noise, VVIien they are fretten* with the gusts of heaven; * Fniten, vexed. I ■•i'fl -b ijlock. :eunL p FOURTH BOOK OF EEADTJVG LESSON'S. You may as well do anything most hard, As seek to soften that — than which wliat's harder ?- His Jewish heart : tlierefore, I do beseech you, Make no more offers, use no further means. But with all })rief and plain conveni(nicy Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 165 ^' Act v.. Scene 1. Lorenzo : — How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this hank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Bc^co'riv? the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the lloor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb whi(;h thou behold'st l^ut in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the y<^uiig-eyed cherubims : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; Hnt M'hilst this nuiddy vestuiv of decay .Poth grossly close it in, w(? cannot lu-ar it. ''M ■ ■ 1 1 -\M ■i^ 166 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. I I i lilt !! PART III. \ lELD. Day glimmers on the clyiii^^ The cloven cuirass, and the helmles^ head ; The war-horse masterless is on the earth, And that last gasp hath burst his bloody girth ; And near, yet quivering with what life re- n»ained, The heel that urged him and the hand that reined ; And some too near that rolling torrent lie. Whose waters mock the lip of those that die ; Tliat panting thirst which r.corches in the breath Of tliosr \,'it ry doatli, 7n vain itnpels tlie Inirning mouth to crave One drop — tlie last — to cool it for the grave ; # ; FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 167 d, id; irtli ; re- that :\ath With feeble and convulsive effort swept Their limbs along the crimsoned turf have crept ; The fairt remains of life such struggles waste, But yet they reach the stream, and bend to taste : They feel its freshness, and almost partake — Why pause 1 — no further thirst have they to slake- It is unquenched, and yet they feel it not ; It was an agony — but now forgot ! Lara, xvi. THE CHARGE AT WATERLOO. Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832). On came the whirlwind — like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest-blast — On came the whirlwind — steel-gleams broke Like lightning through the rolling smoke ; The war was waked anew, Three hundred cannon-mouths roared loud, And from their throats, with flash and cloud, Their showers of iron threw. Beneath their fire, in full career. Rushed on the ponderous cuirassier, The lancer couched his ruthless spear, And hurrying as to havoc near. The cohorts' eagles flew. In one dark torrent, broad and strong, The advancing onset rolled along, Forth harbingered by fierce acclaim, That, from the shroud of smoke and flame, Pealed widely the imperial name. But on the British heart were lost The terrors of the charging host ; For not an eye the storm that viewed Changed its proud glance of for ' ude. Nor was one forward footstep e-( ■ i, As dropped the dying and the l -.d. Fast as their ranks the thunders teai\ Fast they renewed each serried square ; And on the wounded and the slain Closed their diminished files again, H I j •X M, I :i 168 II FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Till from their line scarce spears'-lengths three, Emerging from the smoke they see Helmet, and phime, and panoply, — Then waked their lire at once ! Each musketeer's revolving knell, As fast, as regularly fell, As when they practise to display Their discipline on festal day. Then down went helm and lance, Down were the eagle banners sent, Down reeling steeds and riders went. Corselets were pierced, and pennons rent ; And, to augment the fray, Wheeled full against their staggering flanks. The English horsemen's foaming ranks Forced their resistless way, Then to the musket-knell succeeds The clash of swords — the neigh of steeds- — As plies the smith his clanging trade. Against the cuirass rang the blade ; And while amid their close array The well-served cannon rent their way. And while amid their scattered band Raged the fierce rider's bloody brand. Recoiled in common rout and fear, Lancer and guard and cuirassier, Horseme:i and foot — a mingled host, Their leaders fallen, their standards lost. The Field of Watei-Ioo (1815). THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. The 13th of October, 1812, is a day ever to be remembered in Canada. All along the Niagara river the greatest excitement had prevailed: many of the inhabitants had removed with their portable property into the back country; small bodies of soldiers, regulars and volunteers, were posted in the towns and villages; Indians were roving in the adjacent woods ; and sentinels, posti^d along the banks of the river, were looking eagerly for the enemy that was to come from tlie American shore and attempt the subjugation of a free, a happy, and a loyal people. : IT FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 169 \ i LH). (1 in iient heir iers, ,£jo.s ; nols, for and .le. YORK (Toronto^B In the village of Queenston, that nestles at the foot of an eminence overlooking the mighty waters of Niagara, two com- panies of the 49th Regi- ment, or " Green Tigers," as the Americans after- wards termed them, with one hundred Canadian militia, were posted under the command of Captain Dennis. When tattoo sounded on the night of the 12th, the little garrison retired to rest. All was silent but the elements, which raged furiously throughout the night. Nothing was to be heard but the howling of the wind and the sound of falling rain mingled with the distant roar of the great cataract. Dripping with rain and shivering with cold, the sentries paced their weary rounds, from time to time casting a glance over the swollen tide of the river towards the American shore. At length, when the gray dawn of morning appeared, a wary senti- nel descried a number of boats, filled with armed men, pushing off from the opposite bank below the village of Lewiston. Immediately the alarm was given. The soldiers were roused from their peaceful slumbers, and marched down to the landing- place. Meanwhile a battery of one gun, posted on the heights, and another about a mile below, began to play on the enemy's boats, sinking some and disabling others. Finding it impossible to effect a landing in the face of such opposition, the Americans, leaving a few of their number to occupy the attention of the troops on the bank, disembarked some distance up the river, and succeeded in gaining the summit of the height by a difficult and unprotected pathway. With loud cheers they captured the one-gun battery, and rushed down upon Captain Dennis and his command ; who, finding themselves far outnumbered by the enemy, retired slowly towards the north end of the village. If ere they were met by General Brock, who had set out in advance of reinforcements from the town of Niagara, accompanied only by two officers. \ "A If; 'A^' Hi if w- m\ ,•!;: 1 ' f if' I i, 1 ■ • > • 1 il ■J r ' ;l I •1 I ■ t t 170 FOURTH BOOK OF READINO LESSONS. Placing himself at the head of the little band, the gallant general cried. "Follow me!" and amid the cheers of regulars and militia he led his men back to the height from which they had been forced to retire. At the foot of the hill the general dismounted, under the sharp fire of the enemy's riflemen, who were posted among the trees on its summit, climbed over a high stone wall, and waving his sword, charged up the hill at the head of his soldiers. This intrepid conduct at once attracted the notice of the enemy. One of their sharp-shooters advanced a few paces, took deliberate aim, and shot the general in the bre; ^t. it was a mortal wound. Thus fell Sir Isaac Brock, the i 1 o*' Upper Canada, whose name will outlive the noble mom, 3nl vhich a grateful country has erected to his memory. The i'all ol <: 3ir l3eloved commander infuriated his followers. With loud cheers of " Revenge the general ! " they pressed for- ward up the hill, and drove the enemy fi'om their position. But reinforcements were continually pouring in from the American shore ; and after a deadly struggle, in which Colonel Macdonell, Captain Dennis, and most of the other officers fell, these brave men were again compelled to retire. They took refuge under the guns of the lower battery, there awaiting the arrival of reinforcements from Niagara. About mid-day the first of these arrived, consisting of a band of fifty Mohawks, under their chiefs Norton and Brant. These Indian allies boldly engaged the enemy, and maintained for a short time a sharp skirmish, but finally retired on the main reinforcement. This arrived in the course of the afternoon, under the command of Major-General Sheaffe. Instead of meeting the enemy on the old ground, the officer now in command moved his whole force of one thousand men to the right of the enemy's position, and sent forward his left flank to attack the American right. This left flank was of a very varied character, consisting of one company of the 41st Regiment of the line, a company of colored men, and a body of volunteer militia and Indians, united, in spite of their difference of color and race, by loyalty to the British crown and heart-hatred of foreign aggression. This division advanced in gallant style. After delivering a volley, the whole line of white, red, and black charged the enemy, and drove in his right wing at the point of the bayonet. General SheafTe now led on the main body, and forced the lately victorious Americans to retreat rapidly over the ridge. FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 171 The struggle on theii- part was of sliort duration. In front was a foe thirsting for revenge ; behind, the steep banks and swiftly-flowing waters of Niagara. The "Green Tigers," the Indians, their most despised slaves, and last, biH. certainly not least, the gallant Canadian militia, were object of terror to them. Some few in despair threw themsehi « over the precipices into the river ; but the majority of the survivors surrendered themselves prisoners of war, to the number of nine hundred and fifty, among whom was their commander. General Wadsworth. The leader of the expedition. General Van Rensselaer, had retired to Lewiston — as he said, for reinforce- ments^ — in the early part of the day. The loss of the Americans in this memorable action was about five hundred killed and wounded ; while that of the C .ladian forces amounted to one hundred and fifty. Throughout Canada the ii ws Oj the victory of Queenston Heights awakened universal joy and enthusiasm, second only to that with which the taking ri Detroit was hailed. But the joy and enthusiasm were ('amped by the sad tidings, that he who had first taught Canac 's sons the way to victory had given liis life for her defence, and slept in a soldier's grave with many of her best and bravest. I ill .1.1 4 J ' i BROCK. {October 13, 1859.*) Charles Sangster (b. 1822). . , One voice, one people, — one in heart And soul, and feeling, and desire ! Relight the smouldering martial firo, Sound the mute trumpet, strike tlie lyre, The hero-deed cannot expire ; The dead still play their part. Raise high the monumental stone ! A nation's fealty is theirs, And we are the rejoicing heirs. The honored sons of sires whose cares We take upon us unawares, As freely as our own. * Tlie day of tho inauguration of the new monument on Queenston Heights. 1:1. t ; n 172 ; I FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Wo boast not of tlie victory, But render homage, deep and jnst, To his — to tlieir immortal dust, Who proved so worthy of their trust, No lofty pile nor sculptured hust Can herald their degree. No tongue need blazon forth their fame — Th(^ cheers that stir the sacred hill Arc but mere promptings of the a\ ill That conquered then, that conquer-s still ; And generations yet shall thrill At Brock's remembered name. Sf liil :. f WATER! J. B. GouGH (b. Ifil7). Sweet, l)eautiful water ! — clear, pure, refreshing — that nevei brings sorrow to those who use it ! Pour but a drop of it on the drooping flower, and it will lift its head, as if to bless you ; apply but one drop of man^s distilling, and the flower withers and dies. Bestow but a goblet of this on the famishing trav eller in the sun-parched desert, and how gladly would he return it o'erfiowing with gold ! for he is dying with thirst, and those poisonous draughts are but mockery now. Mark yonder party bound on that fishing excursion. They are out on the briny deep. They have been becalmed and detained for several days beyond their intended absence. Now they are reaching the shore ; and hear their first shriek as they land—" Water ! bring us water ! " — " Why, are you not pro- vided with drink?" — "Yes ; but we want water, water !" Sweet, beautiful, life-giving water ! — brewed in the bosom of nature — brewed in the green, sunny vale, where the red-deer runs, and the child loves to play. Sweet, beautiful water ! — brewed in the running ])rook, the rippling fountain, and the laughing rill, in the limpid cascade as it joy^^ully leaps down the side of the mountain ; brewed in yonder mountain-top, whose granite peaks glitter like gold bathed in the morning sun; brewed in the sparkling dcnv-drop. Sweet, l)eautiful wat(n', bi-ewed in the crested wave of the O' t( w r[ A a: g s^ b V FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 1V3 J . ocean-de(^ps, driven by the storm, breathing its terrible anthem to the God of the sea; brewed in the fiet^cy foam and the whitened spray, as it hangs like a speck over the distant cata- ract; brewed in the clouds of heaven ! Sweet, beautiful water! As it sings in tlie rain-shower and dances in the hail-storm ; as it comes down in feathery flakes, clothing the earth in a sjootless mantle of white — always beautiful ! Distilled in the golden tissues that paint the western sky at the setting of the sun, and the silvery tissues that veil the midnight moon ! Sweet, health-gi x'ing, beautiful water! Distilled in th(^ rain- bow of promise, whose warp is the rain-drop of earth, and whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven — sweet, beautiful water ! n m 'I' i>ia , i ■ ! * - I'l t , I ; Ml THE COLD-WATER MAN. J. G. Saxr (b. 1810). It was an honest fisherman, — I knew him passing well ; And he lived by a little pond Within a little dell. , M. ^I 1 if r ! -; ! i 1 |; 1 1 k P : i , 1 '■■ t li' II I fll I ■ * 174 FOURTH BOOK OF READING LESS')M A grave and quiet man was he, Who loved his hook and rod ; So even ran his line of life, His neighbors thought it odd. For science and for books, he said He never had a wish ; No school to him was worth a tiy, Except a school of fish. o» He ne'er aspired to rank or wealth. Nor cared about a name ; For though much famed for lish was he, He never fished for fame i Let others bend their necks at sight Of Fashion's gilded wheels ; He ne'er had learned the art to " bob" For anything but eels ! A cunning fisherman was he, His angles all were right ; Tlie smallest nibble at his bait Was sure to prove "a bite !" All day this fisherman would sit Upon an ancient log, And gaze into the water, like Some sedentary frog ; With all the seeming iiniocence, And that unconscious look, That other people often wear When they intend to "hook !" To charm the fish he never spoke ; Although his voice was fine, He found the most convenient way Was just to drop a line ! And many a gudgeon of the pond, If they could speak to-day, i 1] 1 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LEiSSONS. "Would own, with grief, this angler had A mighty taking way ! Alas ! one day this tisheruian Had taken too much grog ; And being but a landsman, too, He couldn't keep the log ! 'Twas all in vain with might and main He strove to reach the shore ; Down, down he went to feed the tish He 'd baited oft before ! The jury gave their verdict, that 'Twas nothing else but yiu Had caused the fisherman to be So sadly taken in : Though one stood out upon a whim, And said, the angler's slaughter, To be exact about the fact, Was clearly gin and water / The moral of this mournful tale, To all is plain and clear — That drinking habits bring a man Too often to his bier ; And he who scorns to " take the pledge," And keep the promise fast, May be, in spite of fate, a stiff Cold-ioater man at last! 175 I el ♦ I I .1 i" ' , ' I,- 141' HABOLD SEIMFOLE. (A caricature of the iwet Lciijh Hunt.) Chakleh DiCKKNs (1812-1870). His good friend Jarndyce and some other of "s good friends helped him, in quicker or slower succession, to .several openings in life j but to no purpose, for he must confess to two of the % • » 176 FOURTH BOOK OF HEADING LES^SONS. oldest infirmities in the world : one was, that he had no idea of time ; the other, that he had no idea of money. In consequence of which he never kept an appointment, never could transact any Ijusiness, and never knew the value of anything ! Well ! 80 he had got on in life, and here he was ! He was very fond of reading the papers, very fond of making fancy sketches with a pencil, very fond of nature, very fond of art. All he asked of society was, to kit him live. Thdt wasn't much. His wants were few. Give liim the papers, conversation, music, mutton, coiriH , hiiidsca[)e, fruit in the season, a few sheets of Bristol- board, and a little claret, and he asked no more. He was a mere child in the world, but he didn't cry for the moon. He said to the world, " Go your several ways in peace ! Wear red coats, blue coats, lawn sleeves, put pens behind your ears, wear aprons ; go after glory, holiness, commerce, trade, any object you prefer ; only — let Harold Skimpole live ! " "1 cuvet nothing," said Mr. Skimpole ; "possession is noth- ing to me. Here is my friend Jarndyce's excellent house. I feel obliged to him for possessing it. I can sketch it, and alter it. I can set it to music. When I am here I have sufficient possession of it, and have neither trouble, cost, nor responsibility. Mv steward's name, in short, is Jarndyce, and he can't cheat me." If Mr. Skimpole had had those bits of metal or of thin paper to which mankind attach so much importance, to put in his cnditor's baud, he would have put them in his creditor's hand. Not having them, he substituted the will for the deed. Very well ! If he really meant it — if his will were genuine and real, which it was — it appeared to him that it was the same as coin, and cancelhul the obligation. " It may be, partly, because I know nothing of the valm; of money," said Mr. Skimpok', " but I ofteni feel this. It seems so reasonable ! My liutcher says to me, he wants that little bill. It's a [)art of tlu? [)leasant unconscious poetry of the man's nature, tluit he always calls it a ' little ' bill - -to nuxko the pay- ment appear easy to both of us. I rejdy to the butcher, My good friend, if you knew it, you are paid. You haven't had the troubb; of coming to ask iov the little inll. You are paid. I mean it." " But, suppose," said my Guardian, laughing, " he had meant the meat in tlie bill, instead of providing it ! " " My dear Jarndyce/' he returned, " you surprise me. You FOURTH BOOK OF llEADINiJ LL'SSONS. 177 take the butcher's position. A butcher I once dealt with occu- pied that vciy ground. Says he, ' Sir, why did you eat spring lamb at eighteenpence a pound?' 'Why did I eat spring lainb at eighteenpence a pound, my honest friend?' said I, naturally amazed by the question. 'I like spring lamb!' This was so far convincing. ' AVell, sir,' says he, ' I wish I had meant the lamb as you mean the money!' 'My good fellow,' said I, ' pray let us reason like intellectual beings. How could that be? It was impossible. You had got the lamb, and I have not got the money. You couldn't really mean the lamb without sending it in; wiiereas I can, and do, really mean the money without paying it ! ' He had not a word. There was an end of the subject." Bkak House. hi I'U ;i! i THE WATEE-FAIRY. Algernon Charles Swinburne (b. 1837). Each reed that grows in Our stream is frozen ; The fields it flows in Are hard and black ; The water-fairy Waits wise and wary Till time shall vary And thaws come back. " O sister, water," The wind besought her — " O twin-born daughter Of Spring with me, Stay with me, play with me, Take the warm way with me, Straight for the summer and over sea." But winds will vaiy : And wise? and waiy The patient fairy Of water waits. All shrunk and wizen, In iron prison, Till spiing, re-risen, Unbar the gates ; 12 ^! ■T I" 178 FOURTH BOOK OF BEADING LESHONS. Till, as with clamor Of axe and hammer, Chained streams that stammer And struggle in straits, Burst bonds that shiver, And thaws deliver The roaring river in stormy spates.* In fierce March weather White waves break tether. And whirled together At either hand Like foam or sand, Past swamp or sallow And reed-beds callow. Through pool and shallow. To wind and lee. Till no more tongue-tied. Full flood and young tide Roar down the rapids and storm the sea. THE FOUNDING OF HALIFAX. Beamish Muudoch, Q.C. (b. 1800). Whether the restoration of Cape Breton to France in the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapislle was an act of prudence or of folly on the part of the rulers of England, is a question that can only be determined on a full and accurate investigation of the state of the two crowns at the time of the negotiation as respects their forces, both military and naval, and their prospective means of continuing the war to advantage. There can be no doubt, how- ever, that if the suri-ender of Louisbourg to its former owners could have been avoided, the British influence in America would have been essentially beneflted. TIk^ course adopted of found- ing a place of strength at Ohibouctou (now Halifax), on the eastern coast of the pi-ovince, and making a sj'ttleiiunit there of settlers of British origin, was, in these circumstances, a measure of wisdom and fon^tliought. Not only did it strengthen the power of governnK^it witliiit the province itself, but it afforded a place; suited in eviTy way for fleets and armies to be * Floods. So Burns — " While crashing ico borno on the roaring spates." FOURTH BOOK OF BEADINa LESlSON^. 179 sea. in the oily on only be tate of their ans of how- owners would found- on the there ices, a ufjjthen hut it to be )atos." afterwards employed in the reduction of Canada. Nova Scotia no longer svas to depend for military support and relief upon New England, but, on the contrary, could at all times supply assistance to the older English colonies in case of attack. A plan for sending out a body of settlers was adopted, and the Lords of Trade, by the King's conniiand, publish(;d a notification in March 1749 ottering to all officers and private men discharged from the army and navy, and to artificers necessary in building and husbandry, free passages ; provisions for the voyage, and subsistence for a year after landing ; arms, annnunition, and utensils of industry ; free grants of land in the province; and a civil goverinnout, with all the privileges enjoyed iv. th(; other English colonies. Parliament voted >£4 0,000 sterling for the expense of this Uiidertaking ; and in a short time 1,1 7G settlers, with their families, volunteered to go. Colonel the Honorable Edward Cornwallis was gaz(^tted as Governor of No% a Scotia, 9th May, 1749. Mr. Cornwallis sailed in the jS/Jiin-r, sloop of war, on the 14th May, and the settlers embarked in thirteen transports, and le^ft England somti time afterwards. Early in July the settlers were, many of them, landed, some on George's Island, but more on the peninsula wliori! the city of Halifax now stands. The ground was everywhen^ covered with wood ; no dwellings or clearings appear to have been pre- viously made. Halifax in the sunim(;r and autumn of 1 ("49 must have pre- sented a busy and singular scene. The ship of war, and her strict discipline ; the transports swarming with passenger's, who liad not yet got sheltcir on the land ; the wide (extent of wood in every direction, except a little spot hastily and pai'tially cleared, on which men might be seen trying to make walls out of the spruce trees that grew on their house lots ; the boats perpetually rowing to and from the shipping; and as the work advanced a little, the groups gathered around : the Englishman in the costume of the day — cocked hat, wig, knee-]>reeches, shoes with large glittering buckles — his lady Avith her lioop and brocades; the soldiers and sailors of tlu^ late war, now in civilian dress as sc^ttlers ; th(> shrewd, keen, commercial Bostonian, tall, thin, wiry, supple in body, bold and persevering in mind, calculating on land grants, saw-mills, shipments of lumber, fishing profits; tlu; uulm-ky hah UaiU from (J rand Pre or Piziquid, i liomespun garb, looking with dismay at the numbers, discipline, and earnestness of the new actthrs and i m iJI /I \l.\\ 11 '• I » M FOURTTJ BOOK OF READINCI LESSONS. 181 HI then largo military force — larGf^ to him, wlio liad oriiy kixr^vvt the little garrison of Annapolis; the half-Avild li'^i'nn, made wilder and more intractable by bad advisers, vh.o rirtt'c-sed to b(^ his firmest friends ; the man-of-war's nwn ; tlr > tilors of the transports, and perhaps some hardy fishermen s*'; 'Up; Supplie'!, or led thither l)y curiosity. Of such various elenteixti-. was the bustling crowd composed, not to mention the difiV'rent national- ities of the British Isles themselves. How intt^resting to us of this province wonld now be a picture that conld realize; the appearance our city then must liavc; j>resent(Mb flidortf of Novn Scotia. CENTENARY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF HALIFAX. Hon. Joskph Kr^wE (Dec. 180-1 to Juno 1, 1873). ["On the Sth June, 1849, was celebrtated the cente.iary or hundredth anni- versary of the settlement of Halifax by Governor C)rnwallis. The asIkIb population turned out, and marchcid in ])rocesHi()n with flags and baniuas. Mr. Beamish Murdoch delivered the address, and Mr. Howe furnished the following patriotic song."— Annand's Speeches and Fublic Letters of I'on. JoHcph Hoive.] SONG FOR THE CENTENARY. ITail to the day when the Britons came over. And planted tludr standard, with sea-foam still wet ! Abo\(! and around us their spirits shah iiOAcr, Rejoicing to mark how we honor ix, yei Beneath it the emblems they cherisheci ore waiving — The Rose of Old England the roadside ]je' fumes ; The Shamrock and Thi Me the north wi.'ds re braving; Securely the Mayflo^vt'r* blushes ana lilooms. In the temples they founded tJieir faith is maintained ! Every foot of the soil they bequeathed is still ours ! * Epiffan reprnif, ground laurel, or trailing arbutus. The IMlgrim Fathers werr, deliglited, aftiT the liorrors of their first winter, to see spring breaking in the fragrant blossom of this humble wild -flower, Avhidi ap])ears before the snow is all gone. The I'ilgrims named the ]>lant aftc^ tiieir ship the ;l/r///- ({oiver. When their descendants, the ITnited l*:ni])ire Loynli^ts, were drivtni nito exile, and sought tlie. shores of Nova Scotia, they A\ere bey(md measure cheered to find welcoming thir o\\n ]>layfell(,w in childhood, it was a.d(tptc