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 At break of day, as heavenward 
 
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 Avo,eeoried.h^^^,^,^^J^^;^^^ 
 
 EXCELSIOR r 
 
 A^ toi. 
 
 I 
 
The Dominion Catholic Series 
 
 W'JIIA. 
 
 SADLIKR\S 
 
 DOMINION 
 
 Fourth Reader 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 AN ELOCUTIONARY TREATISE, ILLUSTRATED WITH DIAGR, 
 GRADED AND CLASSIFIED READINGS, FULL NO 
 AND A COMPLETE INDEX 
 
 BY A CATHOLIC TEACH 
 
 af» loi. 
 
 JAMKS A. SADLIBR 
 
 MONTREAL and TORONTO 
 
\; » 
 
 '^O IjrST^lTJCTcm., 
 
 \ 
 
 V ■ 
 
 Q'^^^^^'^al''^^^^^ ^°"^ '"'''"^y ^P--l aid as 
 
 lesson. A Readirwh h H '""'"""" '-'ruc.ion, for each 
 is not adapted to the needs of the class " ""' '''"''"'' /''<?»«n,/.r, ^i,r 
 
 The Lessons of Part First shn„M k 
 Require the class to commit to '! "''' '°'" ^-'^V ^^.mV... 
 
 principles, definitions, a^ xamlrh T' "''" ^'^ '""^^ '"P"-"' 
 Review the lessons, a^d do ^o ' ' '' "^"^*^^^ ^^ - -"cert 
 master them. ""' '^°'"'"^"^« ^-^ Second until the pupils 
 
 -^l:^;::!::::- r^-^ ^-i;- -^ -o a di. 
 
 profitable account. ^.,,^ ,,,,-, 1 Vr ""^ "''" *" ^^ '"^"«d to 
 
 eP^'« - pronounce, spell Infd^^^^^^ but require the 
 
 ^^uirethemtocommenLlith tt^o^^^^ '"" '""^ ""^^- ^^- 
 
 >ng and pronounce batk to the f.rst T . ^ ^'''^''P'' '" '''" ^^^^- 
 
 Accents and Marked Letters r .n • "'' ''•''' ^"""*'°" ^^ 'he 
 
 ^stl- by requiring them to d;term^L"l° "o"'"' *''" j'"'^^'"^"^ «"d 
 
 y>^r^ is best adapted to illuttrar ''' °' ^'°'^"''°" ^^^ 
 
 Before* the Finat p 
 
 >«-n., A'dop, » Simple olr;'!,:"" ""' "' """"^ ""^"W.he 
 
 example, yf,„, .h^ ,i„e of ,he piece r^;!^"""" ^"'"''" ■■ "" 
 nu„cia,io„, b„,h i„ ,he „» J a„d ,he "^^^ "" "'"''' '"""^ '" --Pro- 
 
 conneced .hough,. „T h ■"'"«'«:/<»««;.. .he narralive or 
 
 The Index to the Notes ,•<= «f *i, 
 -e employed dail,. MaKe sp i! fftr.r ™''°"-«- -^ °"«>.. <o 
 in ils use. "^ """"' '» «"■= PUplls grea. facility 
 
 
^Il.WFj3CM 
 
 CATHOLIC SCHOOLS of the Dominion require a 
 liberal range of fit literature and special adaptedness, 
 in a Fourth Reader, which involve the needs of 
 intermediate classes and the mass of students whose schooling 
 is somewhat restricted; and these needs here receive due con- 
 sideration. 
 
 The Treatise on Elocution is simple and comprehensive, 
 presenting the subject in its most attractive and practical 
 form. Its important divisions, and their relations to each 
 other, are exhibited to the eye by the use of a Series of Blacic- 
 board Diagrams. All of Webster^s marked letters are used as 
 required to indicate Pronunciation. The Phonic Alphabet is 
 made complete by the addition of seven of Watson's combined 
 letters, as follows: Ou, ow, dli, sTi, fh, wli, and ng. This 
 marked type affords nearly all the advantages of pure pho- 
 netics, without incurring any of the objections, and is as 
 easily read as though unmarked. Its daily use in the Body 
 of the Readings and the Notes, can not fail to remove localisms 
 and form the habit of correct pronunciation. 
 
 ^ Part Second contains a great variety of Readings, select, 
 original, and adapted, which embraces matters of local inter- 
 est, biographical, geographical, and historical, as well as oi 
 general concern, and all of these fitly illustrate the principles 
 of rhetorical delivery. They generally convey moral and relig- 
 ious truths by implication and example rather than by formal 
 teaching. 
 
 While dogmatic truth, which Cardinal Manning so aptly 
 styles "the source of devotion," is constantly implied, and even 
 directly insisted on in many of the Lessons, it is embodied ir, 
 
 I 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 stories of a conversational as distinguished from the catec etical 
 form, or taught in pleasing verse. Something, that is to say, 
 oi' the atmosphere of a Catholic home has been aimed at and 
 a certain degree of knowledge and practice has been presup- 
 posed as a basis for their further illustration. 
 
 The Gradation of the Readings is systematic, presenting 
 the simplest first in order. The Lessons are divided into 
 formal sections, in each of which only one leading subject is 
 treated, or one important Element of Elocution rendered 
 prominant. 
 
 The Additional Aids needed for a thorough understanding 
 of the text, and preparatory to the Class Readings, are sup- 
 plied. The Pictorial Illustrations are of rare excellence. 
 Foot-notes give the pronunciation of words that had to be 
 re-spelled for the purpose; definitions; explanations of clas- 
 sical, historical, and ^ other allusions ; and biographical sketches 
 of persons whose names occur in the Reading Lessons. This 
 aid is given in every instance on the page where the difficulty 
 first arises ; and a complete Index to the Notes is added for 
 general reference. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 
 
 /. ORTHOEPY. 
 
 FACB 
 
 Articulation— Z?^_/j«i/«<?«j 14 
 
 Oral Elements 15 
 
 Cognates 17 
 
 Alphabetic Equivalents 18 
 
 Oral Elements Combined ig 
 
 Errors in Articulation 2 1 . 
 
 Analysis of Words. 22 
 
 Rules in Articulation . . 24 
 
 Exercises in Articulation , 24 
 
 Syllabication 25 
 
 Exercises in Syllabication 25 
 
 Accent 26 
 
 Exercises in Accent 27 
 
 // EXPRESSION. 
 
 Emphasis — Definitions a8 
 
 Rules in Emphasis 28 
 
 Exercises in Emphasis 28 
 
 Inflections — Definitions , 29 
 
 Rules in Infiection 30 
 
 Exercises in Infiection 31 
 
 Slur 32 
 
 Exercises in Slur 32 
 
 Pauses — Definitions 33 
 
 Rules for Pauses 33 
 
 Exercises in Pauses 34 
 
 Marks of Punctuation '. 35 
 
 Exercises in Pu ^tuation 37 
 
 II. SELECT READINGS. 
 
 L PIECES IN PROSE. 
 
 Section 1 41 
 
 1. A Winter Carnival — Part First 41 
 
 2. A Winter Carnival — Part Second 43 
 
 Section II 48 
 
 4. The Young Traders 48 
 
 6. Helping Father— Part First 52 
 
 7. Helping Father— Part Second. W. L. Williams. 55 
 
 9. Supporting Mother. 58 
 
 Section III 62 
 
 n. The AngePs Whisper Adapted.. 62 
 
 13. Five Peas in the Shell— Part First 66 
 
 14. Five Peas in the Shell— Part Second. Andersen.. 68 
 
 15. The Cloud Reinick.. 70 
 
 7 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 « ... '*o« 
 
 Section IV _ 
 
 17. Mountain of the Holy Crots *.*.! !!'..*!!',.'!! '. ' .' \\\\ \ 7* 
 
 18. The Cross of Cvnstantine , L\ 
 
 19. The Pioneers— Part First !!"."."". 77 
 
 20. The Pioneers— Part Setond From the Ave Maria. 80 
 
 Section V ^^ 
 
 31. The Stork of Strasbourg '. g'- 
 
 33. The Pasha's Son— Part First 80 
 
 34. The Pasha* s Son— Part Second. '.'.'."" qi 
 
 35. The Pasha's Son— Part Third. Bayard T avlor od 
 
 Section VI ' •' ' ^ 
 
 29. Whtre is the Enemy f .' .'.". '. ". '. '. '. '. '. *. \ '. \ \ \ \ Mt's', child. 165 
 
 Section VII , ' 
 
 31. The Pain .-.Z 
 
 Section VIII '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. ub 
 
 35. The P/ower-Pot— Part First ..........'..'.'..'. ut 
 
 36. The F/ower. Pot—Part Second. .Lvtton 118 
 
 37. Useful People •; . , " ,30 
 
 38. Generous People 12 j 
 
 Section IX . 122 
 
 42. Moth and Rust—Part First 126 
 
 43. Moth and Rust— Part Second. L. E.'choliel*. 129 
 
 oECTION X _ ^ \w 
 
 45- Rosa Lee— Part First ', . ".".'.*. '*.*.'. . . . ...... . . . \ \ 133 
 
 46. Rosa Lee— Part Second 13* 
 
 47- Rosa Lee— Part Third. i„ 
 
 48. Rosa Lee-Pdrt Fourth ! .' . ! ! Fabe r! 739 
 
 Section XI j^£ 
 
 49. Antony Canova .'/.*.* ,\\\' " ' ' ' * jlj 
 
 50. Benjamin IVest— Part First. !!!.!!!!]!! 144 
 
 51. Benjamin West— Part Second. * ' .* 147 
 
 52. Benjamin H^est- Part Third. Hawthorne. 149 
 
 oECTION XII ,... . 182 
 
 53. Autumn .'.'.".'..*.".'..... 152 
 
 56. San Jose ....'. .g- 
 
 Section XIII J" 
 
 57. Dogs .■....■.■!!.■.'!.*!."..■;;*. isQ 
 
 58. The Fireman's Dog ,5^ 
 
 59 Our Dog ..*.'.'..'.'.',".*.'." 163 
 
 Section XIV ,Jy 
 
 61. A Light in the Window .■.■'..'.' .'jean "iiigeiow! i6g 
 
 02. Robtn s Museum .-I 
 
 Section XV ^ 
 
 64. God's Acre !.*!!!.'.*.*!!'.'.!.*!!'! 174 
 
 65. St. Philomena—Part First ........." 176 
 
 66. St. Philomena—Part Second. 177 
 
 Section XVI Jg 
 
 70. Wreck of the White Ship *. '.Charles Dickens'. 187 
 
 Section XVII j ' 
 
 73. Spring Rain ,!.!.!!.!.!. i^o 
 
 74. The Pitcher Plant ' i^ 
 
 Section XVIII .'.'..*.".'.'.' 195 
 
 76. Midsummer J. T. Trowbridge. 195 
 
 77- The Poor Student of Sarzana to7 
 
 Section XIX ; . . ; ' " J^i 
 
 79- Blind Agnes C. Caddell! 20i 
 
 bi. The Little Cash Boy , , . , 305 
 
EB 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 \x 
 
 rjMM 
 
 73 
 
 Section 
 
 73 
 
 83. 
 
 75 
 
 85- 
 
 77 
 
 86. 
 
 So 
 
 Section 
 
 I? 
 
 89. 
 
 83 
 
 90, 
 
 ,89 
 
 Section 
 
 91 
 
 93. 
 
 94 
 
 94- 
 
 99 
 
 Section 
 
 »05 
 
 97- 
 
 107 
 
 98. 
 
 loy 
 
 99. 
 
 116 
 
 Section 
 
 116 
 
 102. 
 
 118 
 
 Section 
 
 1 30 
 
 104. 
 
 121 
 
 105. 
 
 123 
 
 Section 
 
 136 
 
 III. 
 
 129 
 
 112. 
 
 133 
 
 113. 
 
 133 
 
 Section 
 
 135 
 
 116. 
 
 137 
 
 Section 
 
 ^39 
 
 118. 
 
 141 
 
 120. 
 
 141 
 
 121. 
 
 144 
 
 123. 
 
 147 
 
 123. 
 
 149 
 152 
 152 
 
 125. 
 126. 
 
 Section 
 
 157 
 
 127. 
 
 159 
 
 
 159 
 
 
 162 
 
 Section 
 
 i6a 
 
 „ 3. 
 
 167 
 
 Section 
 
 169 
 
 5- 
 
 171 
 
 8, 
 
 173 
 
 10. 
 
 174 
 
 Section 
 
 176 
 
 T2. 
 
 177 
 
 1 3. 
 
 184 
 
 Section 
 
 187 
 
 22. 
 
 191 
 
 26. 
 
 jri'i 
 
 Section 
 
 19- 
 
 27. 
 
 195 
 
 28. 
 
 195 
 
 197 
 
 30. 
 
 Section 
 
 201 
 
 32. 
 
 201 
 
 33. 
 
 205 
 
 34- 
 
 rA<w 
 
 XX , ,.... 909 
 
 The Pflican 809 
 
 Ckickens Gail Hamilton. 212 
 
 Two Neighbors anJ the Hens 214 
 
 XXII ... 8X7 
 
 Ursula 317 
 
 Little Jessie , y»*i 
 
 XXIII. 397 
 
 Half Better than All , . . 937 
 
 Chenies of Hamburg 329 
 
 XXIV •. 334 
 
 Heroines of Charity — Part First 234 
 
 Heroines of Charity — Part Secofi. 337 
 
 The Little Hero of Haoilem 239 
 
 XXV : 243 
 
 Whom Shall Ws Thank? 245 
 
 XXVI 349 
 
 Apj>les G. W. Curtis. 349 
 
 The First of Virtues 252 
 
 XXVIIl 361 
 
 Saint Christopher— Part Pint 361 
 
 Saint Christofher — Part Second 263 
 
 The Sign ot the Cross 365 
 
 XXIX 370 
 
 The Two Roads Richter. 371 
 
 XXX 374 
 
 First Fieri! of Montreal. Mrs. James Sadlier. 374 
 
 Toronto— Part First 378 
 
 Toronto — Part Second. . Adapted from Picturesque Canada. 383 
 
 Jacques Cartier—Part First. 385 
 
 Jacques Cartier—Part Second ?»■. 
 
 Tlie Canadian Rebellion 
 
 Dominion of Canada 
 
 XXXL 
 
 Th'. Dead Mrs. James Sadlit 
 
 //. PIECES IN VERSE. " 
 
 I 
 
 What I Live For G. Linnaeus Banks. 47 
 
 II 48 
 
 Keeping his V/ord . , 50 
 
 Hand and Heart Charles Macicay. 57 
 
 The Anger s Bidding Adelaide Procter. 60 
 
 III 62 
 
 The Boy and the Child Jesus Heber. 64 
 
 The Poet's Song Tennyson. 72 
 
 V ...f 83 
 
 The Barefoot Boy J. G. Whittier. 86 
 
 George Nidiver Bret Harte. 97 
 
 VI 99 
 
 Excelsior. Longfellow. 99 
 
 The Battle of Blenheim ^'outhey. 102 
 
 The Two Armies O. W. Holmes. 106 
 
 VII 107 
 
 Sunshine and Showers 108 
 
 The Grasshopper— Part First IIO 
 
 The Grasshopper— Part Second John Clare. 113 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Section IX 
 
 39. The Caslle Builder. i ' L" V iT " " ' 
 
 40. The Future ....'... Longfellow. 
 
 41. The Holy Virgin's Knight ',*.'.'.*." \''.\\\\ 
 
 44. ■ A Christmas Carol . , 
 
 Section XII '..'''!'!l'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 
 
 54. Birds in Summer 
 
 ^JLM'V;^'''' ::::.: v. ;;;h.-r. Hudson: 
 
 •» §2" ^" Time's Szoing Lucv L 
 
 '. 67. Sir Hodolph of Hapsburg—Part First 
 
 c ' •*> * ^iJ^^'^o'P'* "/ ttapsburg—Part Second.'.'.',','.', 
 alttOTiON XVI ■ " 
 
 ow. 
 
 69. Wreck of the Hesperus Lonfffrll^v" 
 
 71. He Never Smile/ Amin Mr, KIT' 
 
 Section XVII . " "*^'"^"^- 
 
 ?f It ^IZf/^"/''""- • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • * Sarah Roberts: 
 
 75. y Ae Native Land, , Frnm th« <5r. «io». 
 
 Section XVIII ..........".■. Sp^^nish. 
 
 78. The Summer Rain H Vlpn* M ■ 1 ^k * 11 " 
 
 Section XIX Miichdl. 
 
 S^' -rf! ^"""VllK^V^''^'--'-'''-'- ■ ••".Bernard of ciuny: 
 8a. The IVreath Unfading ^ 
 
 Section XX. 
 
 84- ^hy the Roin^s Breast is Red. 
 kXI 
 
 SscTioN x; 
 
 87. A City Street .......'..'.■.■.■,■. . .'. M^Hnwi;/ 
 
 88. The City w r- 5°"^'"- 
 
 Section xxii. .......:....•...:;;•.;:;:; /;;;; ^•<- ^'y^"'- 
 
 91. Legend of the Lnfant 7esus. .........'...'. 
 
 92. Macaritis the Monk. V'r' A^p" in' ' 
 
 Section XXIII J' "' " ^eilly. 
 
 2fi" ?t n'l V'" ^""^^•'■■•'■'■'■'■■Siimuei Woodworth: 
 
 Section xxv""''.'.'"?.:::-.;-.-.-.:;;::::::::: MaryHowit.. 
 
 100. The Stray Sunbeam 
 
 Jni. The Stars m " " u 
 
 103. 7ero', the Miller.. ....::\::'.:v::: [ ^''y I'TZ- 
 
 Section XX VI J" ^- S^^®- 
 
 106. Too Late 
 
 s..'r°L fxv'it: : : : : : : : ; ; ; : : : : : ■ ; ; ; ; ; ; .• .• .• .• .'■.•.••• ^-^ a- «-"- 
 
 108. 7'he IVtndy Night " ^ "n d' * V 
 
 109. Ho7o the Water Comes Down '.".V.'.'. R Soiiiw" 
 
 no. Little Streams Marv Hnlvft^" 
 
 Section XXVIII ....;; ^^"^^ Hewitt. 
 
 114. The Hun's Defeat 
 
 Section XXIX . . . . . '■ 
 
 115. The Kindly Winter. ..'.'. ' '. '. '. .' .' . ■;;.'.■.■.'.■. MkckWv 
 
 117. Ring Out, Wild Bells Ten n vS ' 
 
 Section XXX lennyson. 
 
 119. To Our Laay ...!...........!"'.!.'. 
 
 124. The Soldier-Peasant's Visic . ... 
 
 Section XXXI 
 
 128. Ele^y in a Country c'hur'c'h'yard, '. .* .' ." ." .V." ." ." , Thomas " Grky! 
 
 PACI 
 123 
 123 
 
 133 
 123 
 
 133 
 
 152 
 
 1 154 
 156 
 167 
 167 
 173 
 173 
 179 
 
 183 
 
 184 
 
 184 
 
 190 
 
 191 
 
 191 
 
 195 
 
 ^95 
 
 200 
 
 201 
 
 204 
 
 208 
 
 209 
 
 2ii 
 
 216 
 
 216 
 
 216 
 
 217 
 
 221 
 
 225 
 227 
 231 
 
 233 
 243 
 
 243 
 24., 
 247 
 2)9 
 
 253 
 254 
 256 
 256 
 257 
 
 259 
 261 
 267 
 270 
 270 
 
 -'73 
 274 
 276 
 291 
 300 
 
PAca 
 
 
 laa 
 
 • • • 
 
 123 
 
 • • • 
 
 13a 
 
 
 152 
 
 
 i!54 
 
 ion. 
 
 156 
 
 
 167 
 
 ow. 
 
 167 
 
 
 173 
 
 am. 
 
 173 
 
 
 179 
 
 . . . 
 
 183 
 
 
 184 
 
 ow. 
 
 184 
 
 n&. 
 
 190 
 
 . . . 
 
 191 
 
 rts. 
 
 igi 
 
 . . . 209 
 ... 3ii 
 . .. 216 
 itt. 216 
 nt. 216 
 
 .. 217 
 
 221 
 
 ly. 225 
 
 . . 227 
 
 th. 231 
 
 tt. 333 
 
 343 
 
 • 243 
 
 IS. 24^ 
 ;e. 247 
 
 . . 2)9 
 
 •• 253 
 
 !r. 254 
 256 
 
 d. 256 
 
 y. 257 
 
 tt. 250 
 
 . . a6i 
 267 
 
 . . 270 
 
 y. 270 
 
 n. •?73 
 
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 . . 291 
 
 . 300 
 
 y- 303 
 
 
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 tf. &; a§, fisk : 7. 6, or i ; as, we, pique : «9. 6 ; a§, «11 : 
 
 9. 6, r, or A ; a§, hSr, sTr, bAr : i(?. i, a§, 196 : ii. J ; ag, 
 lU: jf^. 6; a§, old: 13. d, or ^; a§, 6n, TiOi^t: lA. % 
 <5&, or u ; a§, dft, fool, r\jle : 15. u] a§, male : 16. tl, or 
 d; a§, lip, sdn : 17. ij, 9> or db; a§, bijll, wqU, wdbl: 
 15. Ou, ou, or ow ; a§, Out, lout, owl. 
 
 II. 8UBT0JVIC8. 
 
 i. b J a§, bib : ^. d ; a§, did : «?. g ; a§, gig : 4. j, or 
 « ; »§» jig. gem : ^. 1 ; a§, lull : ^. m j a§, mum : 7. n ; 
 a§, nun : <9. n, or ng ; a§, link, sing : 9. x\ a§, rare : 
 
 10. Th, or tti ; a§, T^at, thith'er : ii. v 5 a§, valye : 
 U. w 5 a§, tfig : 13. y \ a§, yet : I4. z, or § j as, zinc, ig : 
 i5. z, or zh, a§, ftzure. 
 
 Ill ATOMICS. 
 
 1. f ; ag, fife : j^y h ; a§, hit : 3. k, or € ; a§, kigk, 
 eat : .4- P ; a§, pop : ^. s, or 9 ; a§, siss, 9ity : 6. t ; as, 
 tart : 7; Th, or £h ; a§. Thin, pith : ,5. Oh, or dh ; a§. 
 Chin, ridh: 9. Sh, lA, or 9h ; as, Shot, aA, 9hai§e: 
 10. Wh, or ^; a§, White, -^v^.—Italios, silent j aj. 
 
 ... j^.^j^. 
 
 % f 
 
 im 
 
 19 
 
ELOCUTION 
 
 ' « ♦ ■ ■ 
 
 ELOCUTION i§ ihQ mode of utterance or delivery 
 of any tiling spoken. It may be good or bad. 
 2. Good Elocution is the art of uttering ideas under- 
 standingly, -eorre^stly, and effectively. It embrages liie 
 two g6ndral dMsiong, Orthoepy and Rxpkession. 
 
 (D/^'C^/'f.-C' 
 
 (IM^t^^y. 
 
 4^^dd^€^'^' 
 
 o<^TiioJs}(pir. 
 
 ORTHOEPY i§ tJie art of -earrSct pronunciation. » 
 It embraces Articulation, Syllabication, and 
 Accent, 
 
 (0€^^€4^'UZ/^-^ 
 
 -t-t^-n 
 
 O/Mi^^i^ ; ^yJf^^Ji^^/t^tw 
 
 (■^c^c^^n^' 
 
 ( oi'C<:-< 
 
 Orthoepy has to do with separate words — the production 
 of their oral elements, the combination of the§e elements to 
 form syllables, ^^^ ^e accentuation of the right syllabieg. 
 
 » Blackboard Diagrams.— Re- 
 gardii^ blackboard diagrams Hf in- 
 dispensable, in ■eonda«tiiig most 8U«- 
 ^essfully «las8 ey:erci§eg in elocu- 
 tion, tJiey ar« here introduced for 
 uic cuaT0ul6n§e of yuuutf ieuclterg, 
 
 18 
 
 and ag «onstant reminders of 1^5 
 importance of employii^ Ihe per- 
 ceptive fa«ultie8 in connection with 
 Oral instruction. 
 
 * Pronunciation (pro uun'^I S,*. 
 snuii). 
 
In 
 
 U t>OMlNTON FOURTH READER. 
 
 I. ARTICULATION. 
 I. 
 
 DEFimTIOJVS. 
 
 ARTICULATION is the distmct utterance of 4e 
 ^ 1^ oral elements in syllables and words 
 
 2. Oral Elements are the sounds that, uttered sepa. 
 rately or m combination, form syllables and words 
 hnn« ^f^^^^^^^^-^ ^^^ Produced by different posi- 
 tions of the organs of speedi, in connection with the 
 voice and tlie breath. ou wie 
 
 f \ ^1^ f ^^^^/^4z Organs op Speech are the lips, the 
 teeth, the tongue, and the palate. 
 
 upt ^Tfarysxr^^"" '^ ^"^ ^^*^^^ ^^ ^^ ^-^^ 
 ^e. C>i?^ i^z^if^Arr.? ^^^ Divided into three classes: 
 ez^;Sif6m Tomcs,jlfteen subtonics, and ^m atonics 
 
 7. roiT/cs are pure tones produced by the voice, with 
 but slight use of the organs of epeedi. 
 
 J^ i.^T''^'''*' ^''^ l^^^^ produced by the voice, modi- 
 JiM by the organs of speedi. 
 
 9. Atonics are mere breathings, modified by the 
 organs of speedi. "y wie 
 
 ^0> Letters are characters that are used to represent 
 or modify the oral elements. pi««ent 
 
 so^nts^^^ ^^^//^^^T- IS Divided into vowels and con- 
 
 fnnif: ^?rl^^ ^"^ *^ ^^^''' *^^* "«^a"y represent the 
 7o ^ ^^ ^""^ ''' ^' '■' ^' ^' ^'i*^ sometimes ^/.^ 
 Id. A Diphthong is the union of two vowels in a 
 
 syllable ; as ou in our, ea in brmd. 
 
 ^r. o^* n 5"''''^:^ Diphthong is the union of two vowels 
 m^jyllajle^i^er^f^^igh^ ; as ou in ou t. 
 
 ' Larjmx.— The larynx is the up- » W not a VoutaI nr „.. 
 
ORAL ELEj^fENT^. 
 
 u 
 
 IS. An Iaiproper Diphthong is the union of two 
 vowels in a syUable, one of T^ic(h is silent ; as oa in loaf. 
 
 W, A Triphthong is the union of Oiree vowels in a 
 syllable ; as eau in bm^ (bo), ieu in ad^m (adS'). 
 
 It, Consonants^ are the letters that usually represent 
 either subtonic or atonic elements. They are of two 
 kinds, single letters and combined, including all tlie 
 letters of the alphabet, except the vowels, and the com- 
 bmations di, ^, t^, ng : th subtonic, and th atonic. 
 
 18. Labials are letters whose oral elements are diiefly 
 formed by the lips. Tiey are 5, p, to, and y^. j!f is a 
 nagal labiai. F arfd v are labio-dentals. 
 
 19. Dentals are letters whose oral elements are diiefly 
 formed by the teeth. They are,/, s, z, dh, and ^. 
 
 20. LiNGUALS are letters whose oral elements are 
 (ihiefly formed by the tongue. They are d, I, r, and t 
 iV is a nasal-lmgual ; y, a lingua-palatal, and th, a lin- 
 gua-dental. 
 
 21. Palatals are letters whose oral elements are 
 chiefly formed by tlie palate. They are g and k. NG 
 IS a nasal-palatal. 
 
 22. Cognates are letters whose oral elements are pro- 
 duced by the same organs, in a similar manner; thus, 
 / IS a cognate ofv,-7c of g, etc. 
 
 23. Alphabetic Equivalents are letters, or combi- 
 nations of letters, that represent the same elements, or 
 sounds; tlius, i is an equivalent of e, in pzque. 
 
 II. 
 ORAL ELEMEJ\rTS. 
 
 T ^ SOUNDING the tonics, the organs ^ould be 
 
 1 1 i V^"^^' ^^^ ^"^'^ ^^^^^^ ^^ «^nd from the throat 
 gno uld be thrown, as mu(jh as possible, direct ly upward 
 
 Zl'- }K "^r^* "^^^ vowel connected with them in tiie 
 m«», IS apphed. to tiiese letters and same syllable, although their ^yral 
 .«ixsaiu;iia.Dccaupe Wi«y are rare- elements may be uttered separately 
 
te 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 against the rdbf of the moufh. These elements ^ould 
 open with an abrupt and explosive lorce, and then 
 dlmlni^ gradually and equably to the end. 
 
 In producing ^e subtonic and a^nic elements^ it is 
 important to press the organs upon eadi other with 
 great firmness and tension ; to throw tlie breath upon 
 them with force ; and to proldng the sound sufficiently 
 to give it a fall impression on the ear. 
 
 The instructor will first require the students to pro- 
 nounce a c&tdh-word once, and then produce the oral 
 element represented by the marked vowel, or Italic 
 consonant, four times— thus ; age — a, a, a, a ; ate — a, a, 
 a, a ; &t — ^, &,&,&; §,^—3,, & a, 5,, etc. He will ex- 
 ercise the class until eadi student can utter crnisecutwely 
 all the elementary sounds as arranged in the following 
 
 TABLE OF OBJL ELEMEJfTS. 
 \ I. TONICS. 
 
 1. a,^ as in age, 
 
 ate. 
 
 8. &, as in 61k, 
 
 Snd. 
 
 ^. a, " 
 
 at, 
 
 a^. 
 
 9. e,* " 
 
 her, 
 
 v6rse. 
 
 3. a, " 
 
 art. 
 
 arm. 
 
 10. I, " 
 
 i<?e. 
 
 diild. 
 
 i- a, " 
 
 all. 
 
 ball. 
 
 n. I, " 
 
 Ink, 
 
 Inrti. 
 
 6, 4,» " 
 
 b&re. 
 
 ■eaie. 
 
 12. o, " 
 
 old, 
 
 home. 
 
 6. A,3 *'• 
 
 ask. 
 
 glass. 
 
 13. 6,' " 
 
 6n, 
 
 fr6st. 
 
 7, e, " 
 
 he, 
 
 thege. 
 
 U. o, « 
 
 do. 
 
 prove. 
 
 and without tiie aid of a vowel. 
 Indeed, they frequently form Bylla- 
 bles by Aemselves, as in feeble {bl), 
 tSJcen (kn). 
 
 ' Long and Short Vowels.— The 
 attention of tiie«I&S8 ^o ild be called 
 to the fact that the first element, or 
 Boond, represented by eadh of the 
 vowels.is usually indicated by a hori- 
 zontal line plac^ over the letter, and 
 the second sound by a «ilrved line. 
 
 " A Fifth.— The ^i/iA element, or 
 sound, represented by a, is its first 
 or Alphabetic sound, modified or 
 
 cu^/i-ArkA^ Kit /w Tr 
 
 Ua 
 
 "kiw^^ ai^t^i 
 
 T* M^.*¥SV"iS » 
 
 the lit'S, placed nearly together, are 
 held immovable v^ile the student 
 tries to say ji. 
 
 » A Sixth.— 'Hie sixth element rep. 
 resented by k, is a sound interme- 
 diate between a, as heard in at, aA, 
 and rt,as in orra.ort. It is produced by 
 prolonging and slightly softenii^ &. 
 
 4 B Third.— Thcthtrtielementrep- 
 resented by e, is e as heard in end pro- 
 louged.and modified or softened by r. 
 
 ^ O Modified.— The modified oral 
 element of o, in this work, is repre- 
 sented by 5, the same mark as its 
 
 ;.«2.,.l£_ 0;..»»;w1 >I\V1- 7s^-^> 
 
COGNATES. 
 
 n 
 
 15. a,^ ai3 in -eiibe, 
 
 16. % " bM, 
 
 ■cure. 
 
 llUbOl. 
 
 17. u, as in foil, 
 
 18. ou, " our, 
 
 II. SUBTONICS. 
 
 1. bf as in &a5e, 
 
 2. d, " did, 
 
 3. g, 
 
 6. I, 
 
 6. m, 
 
 7. n, 
 
 8. ng, 
 
 
 gag, 
 ioin, 
 
 ^ake, 
 
 mild, 
 
 Tiame, 
 
 gang, 
 
 1. /, asin/ame, 
 
 2. h, " Aark, 
 ^. A:, " *ind, 
 4. ^, " pip% 
 6. Sy " 50u*e, 
 
 orft. 
 ^im. 
 
 gig- 
 ^'oint. 
 
 wuw. 
 
 sang. 
 
 III. ATONICS. 
 /1/e. 
 
 9. 7 ,2 as in rake, 
 
 10. th, " this, 
 
 ii. », " «ine, 
 
 13. y, 
 
 
 ^ake, 
 yard, 
 
 2CSt, 
 
 15. zh " asfure, 
 
 pu^. 
 house. 
 
 bar. 
 
 wifeh. 
 
 d^e. 
 
 ?ci§e. 
 
 yes. 
 
 gaze. 
 
 gla,2rier. 
 
 ArlnA:. 
 
 ^um^. 
 
 sense. 
 
 ^. ^, as in iartf toast. 
 
 7. €hf " fhank, youfh. 
 
 8. dh, " diase, mardh. 
 
 9. ^, " ^ade, mu^. 
 10. \t^,3 « Whale, White. 
 
 III. 
 COGJ^ATES. 
 
 FIRST require the student to pronounce distinctly 
 the word containing the atonic element, then the 
 subtonic cognate, uttering tlie element after eadi word— 
 
 fled or medium element may be pro- 
 duced by uttering the sound of o in 
 not, slightly softened, witix twice its 
 usual volume, or prolongation. It is 
 usually given When Aort o is imme- 
 diately followed by /, ft, as, at, or th, 
 as in dff, B9ft, crdM, cdst, hrdth ; also 
 in a number of words -v^ere Aort o 
 is directly followed by n, or final 
 ng, as in g8ne, begone ; Wng, pr(Jng, 
 sdng, fhrftig, wr&ig. Smart says, 
 To give the extreme rihort sound of 
 to such words is affectation ; to 
 give Aem Ae full sound of broad g 
 [a iu ftilj, is wLlgw. 
 
 ' U Initial — TJ, at the beginning 
 of words. When long, has tiio sound 
 of ^, as iu use. 
 
 » R TrlUed — In triUvag r, the tip 
 of the tdngue is made to vibrate 
 against the nJftf of the mouth. Fre- 
 quently require the student, After & 
 full inhalation, to trill r continuous- 
 ly, as 16ng as possible. 
 
 3 Wh.— To produce the oral ele- 
 ment of Wh, the student will blo%v 
 from the center of the mouth— first 
 compressing the lips, and then sud- 
 denly relaxing tiiem While Ae ut 
 m tiscaping. 
 
18 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 thus : li^, p / or&, &, etc. The attention of the pupil 
 ^ould be called to the fact that cognates are produced 
 by the same organs, iu a similar manner, and only differ 
 in one being an undertone, and the otiier a whisper. 
 
 ATONICS. SUBTONICS. 
 
 lip, p. ....... . or&, h. ^ 
 
 f]fe, /. ml«e, v. 
 
 "w^ite, ■«% wise, w. 
 
 5ave, s. ....... . zeal, z. 
 
 ^ade, ^ a^ure, zh. 
 
 cdiarm, di ^oin, j. 
 
 tart, t. d\d^ d. 
 
 thing, th . this, th. 
 
 ^in'^, Jc gig, g. 
 
 IV. 
 ALPHABETIC EQUIVALENTS. 
 
 THE INSTRUCTOR will require the student to 
 read or recite the Table of Alphabetic Equivalents, 
 using the following formula : The Alphabetic Equiva- 
 lents for A first power are «^, au^ ay, e, ea, ee, e^, ey; as 
 in gam, gauge, stra^, melee', great, vem, the^. 
 
 I. TONIC ELEMENTS. 
 
 For a, a^, au, ay, e, ea, ee, ei, ey; as in gazn, gauge, 
 stray, melee', great, vem, tliey. 
 
 For &, ai, ua; as in pkM, g^^^ranty. 
 
 For a, au, e, ea, ua ; as in ha^^nt, sergeant, heart, g^ard. 
 
 For a, au, aw, eo, o, oa, mi; as in fa-wlt, ha-wk, 
 George, cork, broad, bo^^ght. 
 
 For a, ai, e, ea, ei; as in chair, th^re, swear, heir. 
 
 Fore, ea, ee, ei, eo, ey, i, ie; as in read, deep, 9eil, 
 people, ke^/, valise, field. 
 
 For 6, a, ai, ay, ea, ei, eo, ie, u, ue; as in any, said, 
 sag/s, h6ad, hSifer, leopard, fri6nd, b?^ry, guhm. 
 
 For e, ea, i, o, ou, u, ue, 2// as in earth, girl, word, 
 
ORAL ELEMENTS COMBINED. 
 
 19 
 
 For 1, ai, ei, eye, ie, oi, ui, uy, y, ye; as in olsle, 
 sMght, efe^ die, choir, g^^Ide, \my, my, Tye. 
 
 For I, a^, e, ee, ie, o, oi, u, ui, y ; as in -eaptein, 
 prdty, bf'^n, sieve, women, tortoise, bt^, bt^ild, hymn. 
 
 For o, au, eau, eo, ew, oa, oe, oo, o% (no; as in hat^t- 
 boj^, heau, yeoman, sew, -eoal, foe, door, s6?*l, blow. 
 
 For 6, a, ou, ow ; as in What, h62^gh, kndwjledge. 
 
 For o, ew, oe, oo, ou, u, ui ; as in grew?, ^oe, spoon, 
 sot^p, rude, fruet. 
 
 For u, eau, eu, ew, ieu, iew, ue, ui; as in beauty, 
 feud, new, ad^eu, Yiew, hue, ju^9e. 
 For u, o, oe, oo, ou; as in love, d6e§, blood, y62^ng. 
 For u, o, 00, ou; as in wolf, book, could. 
 For ou, ow ; as in now. 
 Foroi(ai), oy ; as in bdy. 
 
 II. SUBTONIC AND ATONIC ELEMENTS. 
 
 For f, gh, ph; as in -cou^^, nfmph. 
 Forj, g; as in gem, gin. 
 
 For k, -e, -e^, gh, q; as in €ole, «6n€^, \6ugn, etionette. 
 Fors, 9/ asin^ell, gity. 
 
 For t, d, th, phth; as in danger?, 2%ames, pMhHe. 
 For V, /, ph; as in of, Ste^^en. 
 Fory, i; as in pineon. 
 For z, c, §, a? ; as in suffice, ro§e, .rebec. 
 For zh, g, s; as in rou^e, osier. 
 For ng, n ; as in anger, bank. 
 For di, t; as in fusfian. 
 
 For^, c, i^h, $, ss, t; as in oeean, ^^aise, sure, 
 assure, marfial. 
 
 V. 
 OUAL ELEMEJVTS COMBUYED. 
 
 AFTER tlie instructor has given a class thorough drill 
 -t^y^ on the preceding tables as arranged, the following 
 exoixjises will be found of great value, to improve the 
 
»0 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 organs of speedi and the voige, as well as to familiarize 
 the student with different combinations of sound. 
 
 As the ^th element represented by a, and tlie i\\.ird 
 element of c, are always immediately followed by the 
 oral element of r in words, tlie r is introduced in like 
 manner in these exercises. Since the six^ sound of c, 
 When not a syllable by itself, is always immediately fol- 
 lowed by the oral element of/, 7^, or s, in words, these 
 letters are here employed in the same manner. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 TONICS 1 
 
 \ND J 
 
 sUBTO 
 
 NICS. 
 
 
 
 1. ba, 
 
 ba. 
 
 ba. 
 
 ba, 
 
 bar. 
 
 baf; 
 
 be. 
 
 b&, 
 
 b§r; 
 
 lb, 
 
 ib; 
 
 ob. 
 
 6b, 
 
 9^; 
 
 lib, 
 
 ub, 
 
 ub; 
 
 oub. 
 
 da. 
 
 da, 
 
 da. 
 
 da. 
 
 dar, 
 
 das; 
 
 de. 
 
 d6, 
 
 der; 
 
 id, 
 
 id; 
 
 od, 
 
 6d, 
 
 od; 
 
 ud, 
 
 ud, 
 
 ud; 
 
 oud. 
 
 ga, 
 
 gS-, 
 
 ga, 
 
 ga, 
 
 gar. 
 
 gan; 
 
 ge, 
 
 g6, 
 
 ger; 
 
 ^^' 
 
 ig; 
 
 ^g^ 
 
 6g, 
 
 og; 
 
 ug, 
 
 ug, 
 
 ug; 
 
 oug. 
 
 ^. jas, 
 
 jar. 
 
 ja. 
 
 ja, 
 
 j^, 
 
 ja; 
 
 jer, 
 
 % 
 
 je; 
 
 ig, 
 
 ig; 
 
 og, 
 
 6g, 
 
 6g; 
 
 ng, 
 
 lig, 
 
 ug; 
 
 oug. 
 
 las, 
 
 lar. 
 
 la, 
 
 la, 
 
 la. 
 
 la; 
 
 ler. 
 
 16, 
 
 le; 
 
 n, 
 
 11; 
 
 ul, 
 
 61, 
 
 ol; 
 
 ul, 
 
 iil, 
 
 ul; 
 
 oul. 
 
 mas, 
 
 mer, 
 
 mo. 
 
 ma. 
 
 ma. 
 
 me ; 
 
 mer. 
 
 m6. 
 
 mi; 
 
 im. 
 
 im; 
 
 om, 
 
 6m, 
 
 om; 
 
 om, 
 
 6m, 
 
 tim; 
 
 oum. 
 
 S. an. 
 
 an. 
 
 an. 
 
 am. 
 
 nan. 
 
 an; 
 
 en. 
 
 ern. 
 
 en; 
 
 ny, 
 
 ny; 
 
 no. 
 
 no. 
 
 n6; 
 
 nu. 
 
 nu. 
 
 nu; 
 
 nou. 
 
 dng. 
 
 arij. 
 
 ang, 
 
 af, 
 
 ang, 
 
 ang; 
 
 eiig. 
 
 ern. 
 
 eng; 
 
 log, 
 
 ing; 
 
 6ng, 
 
 ong, 
 
 ong; 
 
 ung, 
 
 ung. 
 
 ung 
 
 , own. 
 
 ra. 
 
 ra, 
 
 rar, 
 
 ra, 
 
 ra. 
 
 raf ; 
 
 re. 
 
 rer, 
 
 re; 
 
 ri, 
 
 rl; 
 
 r6. 
 
 ro, 
 
 ro; 
 
 «• 7 
 
 ru, 
 
 ra, 
 
 rii; 
 
 row. 
 
 k.. 3,th, 
 
 6th, 
 
 af. 
 
 eth. 
 
 arth, 
 
 atli; 
 
 eth. 
 
 erth 
 
 , eth; 
 
 tin, 
 
 thi; 
 
 th5, 
 
 tho, 
 
 tho; 
 
 thu. 
 
 thu. 
 
 thu; 
 
 thou. 
 
 ve, 
 
 va. 
 
 var. 
 
 va, 
 
 vaf, 
 
 va; 
 
 ver, 
 
 ve, 
 
 v6; 
 
 IV, 
 
 iv; 
 
 ov. 
 
 ov, 
 
 6v; 
 
 uv, 
 
 uv, 
 
 ov; 
 
 ouv. 
 
 wa. 
 
 wa. 
 
 war. 
 
 wa, 
 
 wa. 
 
 waf ; 
 
 wir, 
 
 we. 
 
 we; 
 
 vv% 
 
 wl ; 
 
 wo, 
 
 w6, 
 
 v.o; 
 
 vvUj 
 
 wu, 
 
 wu 5 
 
 wow. 
 
£IiIiOIiS IN ARTICULATION. 
 
 U 
 
 zow; 
 §§r, 
 
 y&, 
 
 zdb, 
 §6, 
 
 ya, 
 
 yo, 
 
 zu, 
 
 §e; 
 
 ya, 
 y^, 
 
 zu; 
 
 y4r, y4n; yS, 76, ygr; 
 
 yo; yu, yti, yu; yow. 
 
 zoo, z6, z6; zT, zl; 
 
 §er, §g,, §a, ga^ gg. 
 
 ouzh;uzh, uzh, uzh; ozh, dih, 5zh; Izh, Izh- 
 erzh, 6zh, ezh ; af, &rzh, azh, azh, izh, fizh.' 
 
 II. TONIC AND ATONIC COMBINATIONS. 
 J. fa, f&, fa, fa, f4r, fds ; fe, ffe, fgr 
 
 if, 
 
 if; of, 6t of 
 
 u^, tif, uf; Guf. 
 
 h^r, han, ha, ha, ha, U ; h6, hg,' hgr • 
 hi, hi; ho, h6, hu; hu, hu, hii; ho^. 
 
 ak, ak, ak, ak, ark, 4f 
 
 kr. 
 
 kl; ko, k6, ko; ku, ku 
 
 k, ek, §rk 
 
 ku; kou. 
 
 2, 
 
 §P, S-p, ap, 6p, 
 
 pJ, pi; op, obp, ap 
 
 ^rp, pdf; pg, pj, pgr 
 
 af. 
 
 ers, OS, 
 
 Is 
 
 ns. 
 
 as, 
 as. 
 
 tas, tar, ta, at. 
 
 as, 
 
 OS 
 
 puj pu, pdb; owp 
 sir, b6, si ; 
 
 es 
 
 J^O , 
 
 so. 
 
 sii. 
 
 su ; ous. 
 
 ^t, at; ter, 6t, et 
 
 t^, ty; td, too, to; ut, ut, ut; tow. 
 
 3. tMf, fhar, tha, fha, fha, fha ; fher, the, fh6 • 
 Ith, l€h; ofh, oth, dfli; uth, uth, utli;outli. 
 ow(^;udi, udi, udi; 6(^, odi, odi; idh, Kih; 
 er<A, edh, 6cih ; diaf, dia, dia, di&r, dia, <M. 
 wi^;V^, ii^, u^; 6^, o^, 6^; Mi; I^; 
 ^er, ^e, ^e ; ^an, ^4r, ^a, ^a, ^a, ^. 
 ^ow;Whii, Whu, Whu; Who, Tdio, Wh6; Mil, ^I; 
 ^er, Whe, ^e ; ^dias, Tv^ar, ^4, Whft, Mia, Mia. 
 
 VI. 
 ERRORS IJV ARTICULATIOJ^, 
 
 PRRORS IN ARTICULATION arise, >5if, from 
 ±-^ VnQ omission of one or more elements in a word ; as 
 
 an' 
 
 
 for and?, 
 frienc^. 
 
 blindness for bllne^'ness. 
 
22 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 B6f"ly for sOfHy. 
 
 fiel's " fielc^s. 
 
 wir§ " wll<^§. 
 
 sto'ra *' storm. 
 
 bols'trous for bols'ter otU». 
 (^Ick"n " dilck'gn. 
 hlB't'ry " hlfl'tOry. 
 ii6v"l " n6v'61. 
 
 warn ** W9,rm. tr^v"! " trav'61. 
 
 Secondly, from uttering one or more elements thai 
 ^ould not be sounded ; as, 
 
 ev'en for ev"n. rav'6l 
 
 heav'6n " heav"n. s6v'6n 
 
 tak'6n " tak"n. s6f'ten 
 
 sick'gn " 8lck"n. ^hak'Sn 
 
 drlv'61 " drlv"l. ^6v'61 
 
 gr5v'61 " gr6v"l. t^rlv'61 
 
 Thirdly from substituting one element for another; 
 as. 
 
 for r^v"!. 
 " sSv^n. 
 
 sdfn. 
 
 ^ak''n. 
 
 fOiov"!. 
 
 
 set for sit. 
 s6nge " singe. 
 
 ^6t 
 
 for git' 
 
 eS-re 
 
 dange 
 
 pS,st 
 
 £isk 
 
 grass 
 
 srlU 
 
 -wlrl 
 
 agan' 
 
 aganst 
 
 herfli " 
 
 u 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 u 
 u 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 u 
 
 for g6f 
 
 eare. 
 
 dange. 
 
 past. 
 
 ask. 
 
 grass. 
 
 f^rlll. 
 
 ^irl. 
 
 a gain (a gen'). 
 
 against (a genst'). 
 
 hearth (bartli). 
 
 earse 
 re part' 
 
 tr6f ' fj^ 
 
 pa'rent 
 
 bun'net 
 
 dill'drz^n 
 
 sul'ler 
 
 mol'lgr 
 
 pna6r 
 
 mo'm?^nt 
 
 hiirm'l/ss 
 
 kind'n/ss 
 
 -zois'per 
 
 slng'iTi 
 
 for eourse. 
 
 re port'. 
 
 tro'phj^. 
 
 par'ent. 
 
 bSn'net. 
 
 (ihll'dr&ii. 
 
 9611ar. 
 
 mallow. 
 
 pIllo«>. 
 
 mo'mSnt. 
 
 harmless. 
 
 kind'ness. 
 
 ^VhIs'per. 
 
 sing'ing. 
 
 VII. 
 
 AJVALYSIS OF WORDS. 
 
 IN ORDER to secure a practical knowledge of the 
 preceding definitions and tables, to learn to spell 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORDS. 2S 
 
 the nses of letters in writt«i words, the instructor will 
 require the student to master the following exhaustive 
 tliough simple analysis. 
 
 Analysis.— i*^. The word salve, in pronuTwiatimi, 
 IS formed by the union of fhree oral elements; sav— 
 salve. [Here let the student utter the fhree oral ele- 
 ments separately, and then pronounge the word.] Kie 
 first is a modified breathing ; hence, it is an atonic. 
 The second is a pure tone ; hence, it is a tonic. The 
 f\iird is a modified tone ; hen^e, it is a subtonic. 
 
 U. The word salve, in writing, is represented by the 
 letters, salvo—salvo. -8^ rtwesents an atonic; hen^e, 
 it is a consonant. Its oral eioment is diiefly formed by 
 the teeth ; henge, it is a dental. Its oral element is pro- 
 duced by the same organs and in a similar manner as 
 the first oral element of z; hen^e, it is a cognat-e of 2. 
 A represents a tonic ; henge, it is a vowel. L is silent 
 V represents a subtonic ; henge, it is a consonant. Its 
 oral elemant is diiefly formed by the lower lip and the 
 upper teefli ; henge, it is a labio-dental. Its oral ele- 
 ment is formed by the same organs and in a similar man- 
 ner as that off; hen^e, it is a cognate of/. B is sUent. 
 Analysis.— i^^. The word suoii, in pronunelationAa 
 termed by the union of two oral elements ; ^ o— sOioe 
 '^e first is a modified breatliing ; henge, it is an atonic, 
 llie second is a pure tone ; henqe, it is a tonic. 
 
 2d. The word shoe, in writing, is represented by the 
 letiei-s, ^ o e— ^oe. The combi nation ^ represents an 
 atonic ; henge, it is a consonant. Its oral element is 
 diiefly formed by the teafh ; henge, it is a dental. Its 
 oral element is produced by the same organs and in a 
 similar manner as the second oral element represented 
 by ^/ henge, it is a cognate of z. The combination oe 
 is termed by the union of two vowels, one of ^^irth is 
 silent ; henge, it is an improper diphthong. It repre- 
 sents the oral element usually represented by o ; henge, 
 iv iS an aipliabetic equivalent of o. 
 
\ 
 
 ■■!l 
 
 mi 
 
 u 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 VIII. 
 RULES IM ARTICULATIOJ^. 
 
 A AS THE Name of a Letter^ or When uged as an cw- 
 pJiatic word, t^ould be pronounced a (fi in S^ge) ; as, 
 I said three boya knew the letter u, not a boy knew it. 
 
 2. The Word A^ When not emphatic, is marked 
 thus, A,' its quality m pi-onunciation being the same 
 as hgard in &sk, grass ; as, 
 
 Give & baby sister & smile, & kind word, and & kiss. 
 
 3. THEy When not emphatic nor immediately followed 
 by a word that commences with a vowel sound, ^ould 
 be pronounced thu ; as, 
 
 The (thii) peadli, the (thu) plum, th6 apple, and the (thft) 
 dherry are ygurs. Pid he ask for a pen, or for tM pen ? 
 
 4. U Preceded bv i?. — When w long (win tube), or 
 its alphabetic eqjaivalent e/w^ is preceded by r, or the 
 sound of ^, in the same syllable, it has always the 
 sound of o in do ; as. 
 
 Are yQU 8\}re that Arewd yQuth w^§ r^de ? 
 
 6, R MAY BE Trilled When immediately followed by 
 a vowel sound in the same syllable. When thus sit- 
 uated in emphatic words, it ^ould always be trilled ; as. 
 
 He is both hrave and true. She said scratching, not scrawling. 
 
 Pupils will read the sentences several times, analyze 
 the words, and tell What rule§ the exercises illus'trate. 
 
 EXERCISES IV ARTICULATION. 
 
 1. Thti bSld b&d bate brSk bolts &nd barz. 
 
 2. Thii rogz rilblii ^ *i *jhil riif r6d r6ks. 
 
 3. H! 6n k hfl Hn h . irs6z hf;riil hois. 
 ^. Shor al her paim« ar path^ 6v pes. 
 
 6, Ba ! ^at'z n6t siks ddllarz, but a ddllar. 
 
 6. Chaij the old mftn to dioz a dials diez. 
 
 > A- Initial.—^ in many words, 
 as an initial unaccented syllable, is 
 also marked h, ita ^uolity beisg tuat 
 
 of a aixfh power (&), as in Aias, 
 &m&8s, though s6me^at less in 
 
SYLLABICATION. 
 
 26 
 
 7. Lit sgki'ng lit, hafh lit 6v lit bgglld. 
 
 8, Tiioz yoths with troths yuz wlk6d 5fehz. 
 5. Arm It with rAgz, & pigml strg, wll pers It 
 
 10. Nou s6t thii toth And str^dh thii ndstrll wid. 
 
 11. He wddit &nd w6p<^^ ho ft^t And prad f^r ^1. 
 U. Hiz Iz AmldBt thti mists, m6zh6rd an azher ski. 
 13. Thil w^lz Wheld ^nd Wherld, and bard thar br^ 
 
 broun baks. 
 
 U. Ja&n J5nz s6d, LunA, dUs, Amis, villi, dro'rad. 
 
 IB. Thu strif sesS^h, pes apprOCh^fh, and thii giid 
 man rejals6th. 
 
 16. Our ^rod ants yuzd ^rugz, and ^arp, ^rll 
 ^reks, and sHiriingk ^11 frSm Mm t^roud6d ^rln. 
 
 17. Amidst tliii mists and k6ld6st fr6sts, with barest 
 rists and stcwitSst bests, he fhrftsts hIz fists ag6nst thu 
 posts, and stil Insists he sez thu gosts. 
 
 18. A starm ariz66h 6n thu se. A m5d61 v§ss6l Iz 
 striiggllng amidst tliu war 6v 616m6nts, kwlv6rmg and 
 Shivering, t^hrlngklog and battling lik a fhlngking being. 
 
 II. SYLLABICATION. 
 
 A SYLLABLE is a word, or part of a word, uttered 
 r\, by a single impulse of the voice. 
 2» A Monosyllable is a word of one syllable ; as, it. 
 
 3, A Dissyllable is a word of two syllables ; as, Vil-y. 
 
 4, A Trisyllable is a word of fhree syllables ; as, 
 con-flne-ment. 
 
 5, A Polysyllable is a word offmir or Tnore sylla- 
 bles; as, in-no-cen-cy, un-in-tel-U-gi-Ul-i-ty. 
 
 Let pupils tell the number of syllables in words that 
 are not monosyllables, in the following 
 
 EXERCISES IN SYLLABICATION. 
 1. When VQU rise in the mnmitvo- fnrm «»o r>t^ar.\r^\^\^^ +^ 
 I make the day a happy one to a fallow-creature. It is easily done. 
 
26 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 2. A kind word, an encouraging expression — ^trifles in them- 
 selves light as dir — may make some heart glad for at least 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 S. A life of idleness is not a life of pleasure. Only activity 
 and usefulness afford happiness. The most miserable are those 
 who have nothing to do. 
 
 4. Would you be free from uneasiness of mind, do nothing 
 that you know or think to be wr6ng. Would you enjoy the 
 purest pleasure, do always and fiv^rywhere what you see to be 
 unquestionably right. 
 
 5. If the spring put forth no blossom, in summer there will 
 be no beauty, and in autumn no fruit : so, if ygufh be trifled 
 away without improvement, manhood will probably be con- 
 temptible, and old age miserable. 
 
 WnV. 
 
 ni, ACCENT. 
 
 A CCENT is ttie peculiar force given to one or more 
 /\ syllables of a word. 
 
 2, In many Trisyllables and Polysyllables, of two 
 syllpbles accented, one is uttered witii greater force iJian 
 AiG oiJier. The more forcible accent is called 'primary ^ 
 and tiie less forcible, secondary ; as Aa5-i-TA-tioa. 
 
 C^-cr^^n/ 
 
 (^44 
 
 ^yi/m^-i^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 C^-C-t^^t^fy. 
 
 '^S-Ci9^€C€7A4^ 
 
 3, The Mark of Acute Accent, Many, ['] is hiteci 
 nsed to indicate primary accent ; tight, ['] secondary 
 accent ; as, 
 
 H6stil'it^ brdught vk'tory, not ig'nomin'ious defeat'. 
 
 4. The Mark of Grave Accent, ['] is here u§ed to 
 indicate, first, tJiat tJie vowel over Whidi it is placed 
 forms a separate syllable ; and, secondly, tiiat tiie vowel 
 
 iS3 liXJV nil ciiL7iiM.f-."v;i..n^ cvj tti T tlivxi Vj r^iit.' •.--•^.rivwvi" -.t*' '.^-'-^^ '>'■» 
 
 its usual oral elements ; as, 
 
^XPHESSION. 
 
 ^7 
 
 le or more 
 
 i,-^? f?^?. ''''^ ^^^'■''^^ ""^^ ^^"g^* *^a* winged fhing, for 
 his belovM pupils. H6r goodness [not goodwm] moved the 
 roughest [not rough«s^]. 
 
 Pupils will give the office of ea<ih mark in tiiese 
 
 EXERCISES IN ACCENT. 
 
 1. No'ti^e the marks of a€'9ent, and al 'ways accent' cdrr^et'ly 
 the words m'teresting, cir'cumstances, difficulty. 
 
 2. That bl^ssM and bel6vM dhild loves 6v^ry wingM thing 
 5 He that is slow to dnger is better than the mighty : and 
 
 he that rulefli his spirit than he that tdk^th a (^it'y. 
 
 4. A spirit of kindness is beautiful in the dged, lovely in the 
 young, in dispen'sable to the happiness of a fdmily. 
 
 5. Thou kn6west my down'-sit'ting and mine uprising: thou 
 un'derstdnddst my fhdught afdr 6ff. ^ & , 
 
 6. Thou c6mpass^st my patli and my ly'ing down, and art 
 acquainted with all my ways. 
 
 ^_ 
 
 PXPRESSION OF SPEECH is tiie utterance of 
 ^_ thought, (eeling, or passion, with due significance 
 or torce. Its most important divisions are Emphasis 
 Inflection, Sluk, and Pauses. 
 
 '^f?^^^^dA^€»yf't 
 
 €M.'M 
 
 ■f€^^n 
 
 Exx-kessioiv has to do witti words in sentences and extended 
 discourse. It enables the hearer to see, feel, and understand. 
 
es 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 I. EMPHASIS. 
 
 DT^^Fimriom. 
 
 EMPHASIS is ttie peculiar force given to one or 
 more words of a sentence. 
 
 2. To GIVE A Word Emphasis, means to pronounce it 
 in a loud^ oi forcible manner. No uncommon tone is 
 necessary, as words may be made emphatic by prol6ng- 
 ing the vowel sounds, by a pause, or even by a Whisper. 
 
 3. Emphatic Words are 6f^en printed in Italics; 
 those more emphatic, in small capitals ; and those that 
 receive the greatest force, in large CAPITALS. 
 
 II. 
 EULUS IJr EMPHASIS, 
 
 WORDS AND Phrases pecuuarly significant, or 
 important in meaning, are emphatic ; as, 
 Whence and vfhai art thou, execrable ^ape ? 
 
 2. Words and Phrases that contrast, or point out a 
 difference, are emphatic ; as, 
 
 I did not say a letter soldier, but an elder. 
 Pupils will tell Whidh of the two preceding rules is 
 illus'trated by eadi of the following 
 
 EXERCISES IN EMPHASIS. 
 
 1. He may bite ; but I Aall not. 
 
 3. Speak little and well, if yQu wi^ to be {h6ught wise. 
 
 3, Yqu were taught to love your brother, not to hate him. 
 
 4. I ^all sing the praises of October, as the loveliest of months. 
 6. It is not so easy to hide one's faults, as to mend them. 
 
 6. Study not so mudh t o sliow knowledge, as to pos s ess it. 
 
 ence to high piUih, but to volume of 
 
 vOiCfc, tcottv vfv "fBv ."-•--" — « -- J .- 
 
 Wheu reading or speakii^. 
 
 ' Loudness.— The instructor will 
 explain to Hie ciaes the fact, that 
 laadness lias not, of necessity, refer- 
 
INFLECTION, 
 
 99 
 
 one or 
 
 ?unce it 
 tone is 
 )rol6ng- 
 diisper. 
 Italics; 
 ose tliat 
 
 7. The GOOD man is honored, but the evil man is "^spised. 
 
 8. Custom is the plague of wise men and the idol of fools. ' 
 
 9. He that trusts you, where he ^ould find you lions finds 
 you hares; yffh^ve foxes, geese. 
 
 10. My friends, our country tnust be free ! The land is 
 never Idsf, that has a son to right her, and here are troops of 
 sons, and loyal ones ! 
 
 11. Little Nell wa§ dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so 
 free from mark of pain, so fair to look upon. 
 
 13. ''When I die, put near me something that has loved 
 the LianT, and had the sky «Soye it alivays." Those wCre h6r 
 words. 
 
 II. INFLECTION. 
 
 :ant, or 
 
 int out a 
 
 rules is 
 
 ^se. 
 te him. 
 if months, 
 them. 
 
 ssess it. 
 
 o volume of 
 
 DEFIJYITIOjYS. 
 
 INFLECTION is ttie bend or slide of tiie voice, uged 
 in reading and speaking. 
 
 Inflection, or the slide, is properly a part of emphasis. It is 
 the greater rise or fall of the voice that occiirs on the accented 
 or heavy syllable of an emphatic word. 
 
 2, There are Three Inflections or slides of the 
 voice: iiie Rising Inflection, the Falling Inflec- 
 tion, and tiie Circumflex. 
 
 3, The Rising Inflection is tiie upward bend or 
 slide of the voice ; as. 
 
 Do von Invfi vnnr V® 
 
 >^* 
 
30 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 y ji»i 
 
 4. The Falling Inflection is tlie downward bend 
 or slide of the voice ; as, 
 
 ^0, 
 
 When are you going ^'^ ? 
 
 S, The Circumflex is the union of the inflections on 
 tlie same syllable or word, eitlier commencing with the 
 Tisivag and ending with the/aW^ng, or commencing with 
 tlie/«ZZzng and ending witli tlie rising^ thus producing 
 a slight wave of the voice. 
 
 6*. The Acute Accent \^'^is used to mark the r^5^ng 
 inflection ; the grave accent [' ] tlie /a^^ing Inflection ; as, 
 
 Will you read, or spell V 
 
 7. The Falling Circumflex., Whidi commences 
 witli a rising and ends with a falling slide, is marked 
 thus '*^ ; the rising circumflex, \#idi commences with 
 a falling and ends witli a rising slide, is marked thus ^, 
 Whidh the pupil will see is t4ie same mark inverted ; as, 
 
 Yqu must take me for a fool, to think I could do that. 
 
 II. 
 RULES IJy IJVFLECTIOM 
 
 THE Falling Inflection is employed for all Ide'as 
 that are leading, complete, or known, or Whenever 
 something is affirmed or commvindiQdi positively ; as. 
 He will ^ed tears, on his return. Sp6ak, I diarge you ! 
 2, The Rising Inflection is employed for all ideas 
 that are conditional, incidental, or incomplete, or for 
 those tliat are doubtful, uncertain, or negative ; as. 
 
 Though he slay me, I ^all love him. On its return, they will 
 ^ed tears, not of agony and distress, but of gratitude and joy. 
 
 5. Questions for Information, or those that can be 
 answered by yes or tio, require tlie rising inflection ; 
 but their answers. When positive, ^QfaMing j as, 
 
 Do you love Mary V Yes ; I do. 
 
EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. 
 
 SI 
 
 4, Declarative Questions^ or those that can not "be 
 answered by yes or no, require tlle/«ZZ^ng inflection ; as, 
 
 Wliat m^ans this stir in town ? When are you going to !R6me ? 
 
 5, When Words or Clauses contrast or compare, 
 the first part usually has tlie rising, and the last the 
 falling inflection ; though, When one side of tlie contrast 
 is affirmed, and the other denied, the latter has the 
 rising inflection, in T^atever order they occur ; as, 
 
 I have seen the effects of I6ve and hdtred, j6y and grief, hope 
 and despair. I come to hiiry Caesar, not to prdise him. 
 
 6, The Circumflex is used When the thoughts are 
 not sincere or earnest, but are employed in jest, double- 
 meaning, or mockery. The falling circumflex is used 
 in places that would otherwise require i^Q falling inflec- 
 tion ; the rising circumflex, in places that would other- 
 wise require the rising inflection ; as. 
 
 The beggar intends to ride^; not to walk. Ah, i^e 'oves you ! 
 
 Students will be careful to employ the right slides 
 in sentences that are unmarked, and tell What rule or 
 rules are illus'trated by eadi of the foUowii^ 
 
 EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. 
 
 1. I want a pin. It is not a hook I want. 
 
 ^. The war must go dn. Wo must fight it ihrdugh. 
 
 S. The cduse will raise up armies j the cctuse will create navies. 
 
 4. We ^all make this a glorious, an immortal day. When 
 we are in our graves, our Children will honor it. 
 
 5. Do you see that bright stdr ? Y^s : it is splendid. 
 
 6. D6e§ that beautiful lady deserve praise, or bUme ? 
 
 7. Is a candle to be put under a budiel, or under a b§d ? 
 
 8. Hunting mln, not biasts, Aall be his game. 
 
 9. Do men ga,iher grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles ? 
 
 10. Th^re is a tide in the affairs of m6n, yfhidh, taken at the 
 fl6od, leads on to fortune. 
 
 11. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or p^ri^, I ^ve mjr 
 ted and h^art to this vot?, 
 
32 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 12. If Caudle says so, then all must believe it, of course. 
 
 13. Is this a time to bo gl6oray and s&d 
 
 When our mother NAture Idughs Around ; 
 W'hen even the deep blue Ii6aven8 look gldd, 
 And gl&dness breathes from the bl68Soming ground ? 
 
 U. Ah, it was Maud that gave it I I never thought, under 
 any circumstances, it could bo you ! 
 
 III. SLUR. 
 
 SLUR is that smoot^i, gliding, subdued movement 
 of the voice, by Whidi tliose parts of a sentence of 
 less comparative importance are rendered less impres- 
 sive to the ear, and emphatic words and phrases set in 
 stronger relief. 
 
 2, Slur must be ^Employed in cases of parenihesis, con- 
 Irastf repetition, or explanatioii, wTiere the phrase or sentence is 
 of small comparative importance ; and df^en wlien qualification 
 of timej place, or manner is made. 
 
 5, The Parts which are to be Slurred in a portion of 
 tiie exercises are printed in Italic letters. Students will first 
 read the parts of ttie sentence that appear in Roman, and then 
 ttie whole sentence, passing lightly and quickly over What wa§ 
 first omitted. They will also read tiie unmarked examples in 
 like manner. 
 
 EXERCISES IN SLUR. 
 
 1. I am syjre, if you provide for your young broilers and sis- 
 ters, that G6d will bless you, 
 
 2. The gdn^ral, with his h(>ad drooping, and Irs hands lean- 
 ing on his horse's neck, moved feebly o-it of the battle. 
 
 3. Children are wading, ivi^ (Sheerful cries, 
 
 In the i^oals of the sparkling brdbk ; 
 Laughing maidens, M>ith soft young eyes, 
 Walk or sit in thie ^ady nook. 
 
PAUSES. 
 
 4. The sick man f^om his fihamher looks at tho twisted 
 brooks; md, feeling tiie cool breafh ofeadh little pool, breathes 
 a blessing on the summer rain. 
 
 6. T^e calm ^ade Aall bring a kindred calm, and ttie sweet 
 breeze, that makes the green leaves dance, ^all w&ft a balm 
 to thy sick heart. 
 
 6. Young eyes, that last year smiled in ours. 
 
 Now point the rifle's barrel ; 
 And hands, then stained with fr\jits and flowers, 
 B6ar redder stains of quairrel. 
 
 7. If there's a Power Above Ms-and \^at there is, all Nature 
 cues aloMd ihrough all her works— He must delight in virtue • 
 and that Whidi He delights in must be happy. ' 
 
 S. The moon i§ at her full, and, riding high, 
 
 Flood§ the ealm fieldg with light. 
 The air§ that h6ver in the summer sky 
 Are all asleep to-night. 
 
 IV. PAUSES. 
 I. 
 
 DEFIJVITIOJVS. 
 
 p AUSES are suspensions of the voice in reading and 
 A speakin<?, ii§ed to mark expectation and uncer- 
 tainty, and to give eflTect to expression. 
 
 2. The Pause is marked thus 7 in the foUowing 
 Illustrations and exercises. 
 
 II. 
 RULES FOR PAUSES. 
 
 T^.1^^J^5^ "^^ ^ SENTENCE, or that of 
 X Whirih something is declared, T\^en either emphatic 
 or compound, requires a pause after it ; as, 
 
 The came y will raise up armies. Sinceritv and tru€h y form 
 me basis of fiv^ry virtue. ' 
 
SJi. DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 2. Two Nouns in the same Case^ without a con- 
 necting word, require a pause between fchem ; as, 
 
 1 admire WaUter y the hrator. 
 
 3. Adjectives that follow the words they qualify 
 or limit, require pauses immediately before them ; as, 
 
 He had a mind 7 deep 7 active 7 well-stored with knowledge. 
 
 4. But, hence, and other words that mark a sudden 
 dhange. When tliey stand at tlie beginning of a sentence, 
 require a pause after them ; as. 
 
 But 7 these joys are his. Hence 7 Solomon calls the fear of 
 the Lord 7 the beginning of wisdom. 
 
 5. In Cases of Ellipsis, a pause is required Where 
 one or more words are omitted ; as, 
 
 He thanked Mary many times 7 Kate but once. Call thifi 
 man friend 7 that 7 brother. 
 
 6. A Slurred Passage requires a pause immediately 
 before and immediatMy after it ; as, 
 
 The plumage of the mdcking-bird 7 though none of th. 
 homehest 7 has nothing bright or ^owy in it. 
 
 Pupils will tell Whidi of the rules are illustrated b^ 
 the following 
 
 EXERCISES IN PAUSES. 
 
 1. All promise 7 is poo: dilatory man. 
 
 2. Procrastination is the thief of time. 
 
 3. Weeping 7 may endure for a night 7 7 but joy 7 comet 
 in the morning. 
 
 ^ Paul 7 the Apostle 7 wrote to Timothy. 
 
 6. Solomon, the son of David, wa§ king of Israel. 
 
 6. He was a friend 7 gentle 7 generous 7 good-humored 7 as 
 
 fectionate. • , vi. a 
 
 7. Yqu see a gentleman, poh^ed, easy, qu.et, witty, ana 
 
 socially, yftur equal. 
 
 8. The night wind with a esolate moan swept l>y. 
 
 9. But 7 1 ^all say no more 7 pity and dharity being dead 7 to 
 
 a heart of stone. . -, ^-u 
 
 •//I TT„o>.Qr./ifl anri fni^firs 1 fhink of th^ir wives and ghilaren. 
 
MARKS OF PUNCTUATION. ^» 
 
 III. 
 
 MARKS OF PUJVCTUATIOJ\r. 
 
 OUCH POINTS OR MARKS are here introduced 
 O as are necessary, in written or printed language, to 
 liiako plain trlie meaning of the writer, or to mark a por- 
 tion of the pauses used in good reading. The teadier 
 will employ tliis for a reading lesson, and not for a tAsk, 
 makiiig all necessary additional explanations. 
 
 1. The Comma [ , ] marks tlio smallest division of a 
 sentence, and represents tlio bliortest pause ; as, 
 
 I'ho butterfly, dhikl of tho summer, flutters in the sun. 
 
 2» The Semicolon- [;] separates suc'h parts of a sen- 
 tence as are less closely connected tlian tliose divided 
 by a -e6mma, and usually represents a longer pause ; as, 
 
 Tlio noblest men and women have been dhildren once ; lisp- 
 ing (he speech, laughing the laugh, thinking tho thought, of 
 diildhood. 
 
 5. The Colon [ : ] separates parts of a sentence less 
 closely connected tlian tliose divided by a semicolon, 
 and usually represents a longer pause ; as, 
 
 He who receives a go1)u itvn ^ould never forget it : he who 
 d6e§ one ^ould never remember it. 
 
 4. The Period [ . ] is placed ;it the close of a sentence 
 vM.(ih declares something, and usually represents a full 
 stop. It must be u§ed after an abbreviated word ; as, 
 
 If you will, you can ri§e. Send the clothing and the money 
 to Geo. W. Stevenson, Esq. 
 
 5, The Interrogation Point [?] ^ows that a ques- 
 tion is asked ; as, 
 
 Yqu say you will do better tQ-morrow ; but are you syre of 
 to-morrow ? Have you one hour in your hand ? 
 
 6*. The Exclamation Point [ I ] is placed after words 
 that express surprise, astonishment, admiration, and 
 other strong feelingg ; as, 
 
 Alas mv noble bov ? rtmf fti/^i J\^^^^\Ac^■ a:., i 
 
IE: 
 
 Se DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 r . The Dash [ — ] is u§ed When a sentence breaks Off 
 abraptly ; When there is an unexpected turn in sen- 
 timent ; and for a long or significant pause ; as, 
 
 W^ th^ro over a braver soldier ? Was there over— but I 
 Bc6rn to boast. Tbero aro two kinds of evils— those ^hidh 
 can not be cured, and those w^idh can. 
 
 8. Marks of Parenthesis () are u^ed to inclose 
 words tliat interrupt the prdgress of tlie sentence m 
 Whi(5h they appear, and that can be omitted withmit 
 injury to its sense. They tOiould be slurred m read- 
 ing ; aa, 
 
 Whether playing ball or riding on horseback {for he ndes 
 oflen), tiio boy knows both how to start and When to stop. 
 
 0. Brackets [ ] are cliiefly used to inclose words that 
 serve to explain one or more words of p sentence, or to 
 point out a referenc^e ; as, 
 
 Wa^ington [the Father of his country] made this remark. 
 You will find an account of the creation in the Bible, [^^o 
 Genesis, chap, i.] 
 
 10. Marks of Quotation [*' "] are used te ^ow 
 that the real or supposed words of another are given. 
 A quotation written within a quotation requires only 
 single marks ; as, 
 
 "If this poor man," said my father, "thus earnestly says, 
 *I thank G6d that He is good to me,' how can we express our 
 fhanks for h. J many mercies ! " 
 
 11. The Index, or Hand [|^"], points out a pas- 
 sage for special attention ; as, 
 
 ^ All orders will be promptly and carefully attended to. 
 
 12. The Apostrophe ['], looking like a «6mma 
 placed above the line, denotes the omission of one or 
 more letters. It is also u§ed before s in the singular nnm- 
 ber, ind after s in the plural, to mark possession ; as, 
 
 Do not ask who'll go with you : go aheM. Unele bought 
 Cora's sh^jes, and me boys' hats, 
 
MARKS OF PUNCTUATION. 
 
 37 
 
 13. Marks of Elupsis [ . . . ****] are formed 
 
 by means of a 16ng da^, or of a succession of periods 
 or stars of various lengfhs, and are used to indicate the 
 omission of letters in a word, of words in a sentence, or 
 of one or more sentences ; as. 
 
 Friend '^- — s is in trouble. " Thou Aalt love iiie Lord thy 
 
 Odd witti all thy heart, and thy neighbor as tiiyself." 
 
 " Charity suffer6£h long and is kind ; * ♦ ♦ ♦ b^Ar6(h all things, 
 beheveth all things, endureth all things." 
 
 i4. The Hyphen [- ] is placc? after a syllable end- 
 ing a line, to b%ow tliat tlie remainder of the word be- 
 gins the next line. It usually unites the words of Whidi 
 a compound is formed, When eadi of them retains its 
 uiiginal accent ; as, 
 
 We thank the all'-wise' Gdd for the in'cense-breath'ing mom. 
 
 15, Marks of Reference.— T^iq Asterisk, or Star [ * J, 
 the Obelisk, or Dagger [ f ], the Double Dagger [ J ], the 
 Section [ § ], Parallel Lines [ f ], and the Paragraph [ f ], 
 are used, in the order named, When references are made 
 to remarks or notes in the margin, at the bottom of the 
 page, or some other part of tlie book. Letters and 
 figures are biten. u§ed for marks of reference. 
 
 16, The Diuresis [••] is placed over the latter of 
 two vowels to ^ow that they form separate syllables ; as, 
 
 His ideas of the Creator were formed in tiiose atrial heights. 
 Pupils will be required to give the names and uses 
 of all the marks in the following 
 
 EXERCISES IN PUNCTUATION. 
 
 1. The true lover of beauty sees it in the lowliest flower, 
 meets it in 6v6ry path, enjoys it everywhere. 
 
 2. Stones grow ; vegetables grow and live ; animals grow, 
 live, and feel. 
 
 S. Do not inmlt a p(5or man : hid misery entitles him to nitv. 
 
 Ij. T taVfi p}^ ^ 
 
 
 Ill UUII 
 
 Madam Gout. Yqu know my inactive state. 
 
 CACrjise — On i — us i can. 
 
 
S8 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 6. " Hon68t boys," said I, " be so pood as to tell mo Vhother 
 I am in the way to Ric(hm6nd." ^ , r.- 
 
 6. "A pure and gentle soul," said he, "6f/CTi feels that this 
 world is full of beauty, full of innocent gladness." 
 
 7. Has G6d provided for the po'or a courser earth, a rougher 
 sea, thinner Air, a paler sky? n. • -u -i 
 
 8 Aogry Children are like men standing on their heads : 
 they see all fhixigs the wr6ng way. To rule one's anger is well : 
 to prevent it is better. „ . ^ 1 1 
 
 9. Yfiu speak like a boy-like a boy who thinks the old, 
 gnarldd oak can be twisted as easily as the young sapling. 
 
 10. What do yQU say? What? I really do not understand 
 you. Be so good as to explain yourself again. Upon my word, 
 I do not.— Oh ! now I know : you mean to tell me it is a cold 
 day. Why did you not say at once, *at is cold to-day? " 
 
 GENERAL DIAGRAM. 
 
 / Articulation 
 ORTHOKPY Syllabication 
 
 ( 
 
 Accent. 
 
 { 
 
 pRIMARV 
 
 Secondary 
 
 ELOCUTION 
 
 AND 
 
 EXPRESSION 
 
 Emphasis 
 
 ( Rising 
 
 Inflection J Falling 
 
 Slur ^ Circumflex 
 
 Pauses 
 
 III 
 
imt this 
 
 rougher 
 
 • heads : 
 ' is well : 
 
 the old, 
 
 ng- 
 derst&nd 
 
 ny word, 
 
 is a cold 
 
 4/fK 
 VDARV 
 
 TG 
 
 ING 
 
 JMFLEX 
 
 li 
 
(pHOj^ETic i^mir. 
 
 L TOJVICS. 
 
 1. a, or e ; a§, ale, veil : ^. &; a§, f&t: ^. a;a§, art: 
 ^. a, or 6 ; as, all, €6m : S. A, or 6 ; a§, €&re, mre : 
 6. &; a§, 6ak : 7. e, or i ; as, we, pique : 8. &; a§, 811 •• 
 9. e, I, or & ; a§, hCr, sir, bur : 10. i, a§, 190 : 11. I; a§, 
 ni: m 6; a§, old: 13. 6, or a; as, 6n,\^?.t: U- 9» 
 0-0, or u ; a§, dft, foDl, ryle : 15. n; a§, mule : 16. il, or 
 6; a§, % 86n: i^. u, o, or db; a§, byll, W9lf, wdbl: 
 i5. Ou, ou, or ow ; a§, Out, lout, owL 
 
 II. SUBTOmCS. 
 
 1. bj a§,bib: 2. d; as, did: 3, g; a§,gig: .^. j, <» 
 g ; a§, jig, gem : 5. 1 ; a§, lull : 6. m;a§, mum: 7. n; 
 a§, nun: 8. n, or ng ; a§, link, sing: 9. r; a^, rare: 
 10. Th, or tti; a§. That, thWer: 11. y, a§, valve: 
 12. w ; a§, wig : 13. y ; as, yet : U- z, or § ; as, 3in€, ig • 
 15. z, or zh, a§, ftzure. 
 
 J//. ATomcs. 
 
 i. f ; a§, fife : ^. h ; a§, hit : 3. k, or « ; a§, kink, 
 
 eat: 4. p; a§, pop: 5. s, or 9; a§, siss, (jity: 6. t; as, 
 
 tart: 7. Th, or th ; a§, Thin, pifh : 8. Ch, or di; a§. 
 
 Chin, ridh : P. Sh, ^, or 9h ; as. Shot, a^, ^M^^ ' 
 
 in \m. or vfh- Rs. White. Whip.— /^aZM -eilent ; a§, 
 
 lilM 
 
 III 
 
 o«en (df 'n) : x for gs ; a§, e$ 
 
 &€t' 
 
 40 
 
-EjimijYas, 
 
 SECTION I. 
 I. 
 
 i. A WINTER CABJSriVAL. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 jV/T ONTREAL wa§ to have a winter carnival. Of course 
 1 y J. most of the boy§ and girl§ know what a carnival is. It 
 ]§ a jolly good time out-of-door§, in the warm Southern cities 
 usually of Italy. But a§ Montreal hag not a particularly warm 
 bouthern climate, and a§ her winter sports are unequaled Win- 
 ter wag fitly dhogen to pregide at a Canadian carnival. 
 • ^' ^§^^P^I^dney'§ uncle lived in Montreal, naturally he 
 mvited Ralph's father and mother to come on k visit during 
 the carnival, and to bring Ralph with them. When his parente 
 accepted the invitation, Ralph wag about the happiest boy in 
 B&ton. Having never been so far North before, he had fears 
 about freezing big ear§ and big noge. 
 
 S. « I wi^ my seal-skin cap wag larger and that my ear-tabs 
 were snugger," he confided to his mother; but ^e assured him 
 that hig aunt and hig couging in Canada would ^ow him just 
 how to protect himself from ^^ cold, and that he need not 
 borrow trouble. 
 
 t,^"! Tl^' ^^""^'*y ^''^''^"^' ^^P^ ^"d hig father and 
 mother took the tram, on the Boston and Montreal Railroad for 
 the winter carnival. A ride of fifteen hourg brought them in 
 safety to Montreal. They crdssed ttie great Victoria Bridge. 
 over the broad St. Lawren9e, ^vOiite with its winter covering of 
 ice and snow. ° 
 
 _f;_Ralph_mijoye d hugel y the ride from the station in the 
 
 ' Oiigp, bright and sfliarp ; brittle. 
 
J^2 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 comfortable hack sleigh, almost smottiered in buffalo-robeg. 
 On the way to hig vncle^g door, tJiey passed the ice palace, 
 Greeted for tiie carnival in Dominion Square, between the 
 Windsor Hotel and tiie great Oatholie Cathedral. 
 
 6 This ice palace wa§ built of large cakes ot 190, two feet 
 Chick, having a high 9entral tower, and smaller towerg a ^e 
 four €orner§. Flags of different nation^ waved from ttie top 
 of tiie towers, and the dull blue structure glittering ^"der tJie 
 bright morning sun, the result of three weeks' hard work of 
 men and horse?, looked like a fairy creation. 
 
 7. Kalph's €ou§in§, Herbert and Bl&nQhe were delighted 
 to welcome him. Breakfast wa§ hardly fini^ed before t^ey 
 were teacfliing him about Canadian dress and sports. L6ng 
 knit stockings and deer-skin moccasins, ttiey said, are the only 
 proper thi^§ to wear in iiie dry and light Canadian snow. 
 Then a tgque, a kind of pointed knit cap, made of green and 
 scarlet yarn, witti a large tassel at the end, being elose and 
 warm and a perfect prUection to the ear§, wa§ pronoun9ed the 
 
 onlv proper cap. . „ ,, 
 
 I Next, Ealph wa§ presented witti a new pair of snow.^oe§, 
 and ^owed how to iMen them upon hi§ moccasmed feet by a 
 ^culiar knot whidh will not slip. Herbert g-«. ^- ^^^^^ 
 indoor lessong and told him that he must not kick him elf 
 with tiie tails of the snow-^oe§ in runniiig, or every one would 
 know that he was a " raw recruit ; " tiiat he must no make hi§ 
 ^oes " growl" b , rasping their edge§ together m walking, ana 
 he must be very Wefu' not to try to step witti one snow-^oe 
 Xle standing on it with the ottier ; for, if he did, he would 
 take a "header" into the snow. 
 
 9. After niudh practi9e, and very many awkward and very 
 amusing mistakes and mishaps, Ralph concluded ttiat he had 
 got the peculiar «^ack" movement necessary, and so he w^s 
 anxious for the time to come, When he €Ould prove ^^^^^ 
 ms his apt scholar^ip. But wten, under Herbert s direction 
 he^first put his Efforts in snow-^oe walking to & practical tes^^ 
 ttie results, as ^own in the picture on the next page wer 
 rather disastrous. He soDn, however, became really skillful 
 
 with the snow-shoes. , , w-- „.. T«;i;nn 
 
 10. Lastly, R; ^ph was introdu9ed to the tobfiggan, or Indian 
 
A WIN-TER CAIiNIVAL. 
 
 JfS 
 
 sled, of ^hidh he had 6f^.n heard. It wa§ made of a thin board 
 gracefully .Ai^ed at ti.e forward end, witli .r6ss and side pL,e« 
 e.urely bo^nd to it by deer th5ng§ or sinew?, so a? to make a 
 %ht and «tr5j^ flat sled. The§o varied in llngfh from four to 
 eiglit feet, ai.d were generally covered witii a carpet or cu^ion. 
 
 II. 
 
 2. A WLN'TER CARmVAL. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 ^TOBOGGANING SLIDES were quite numerous in Mou- 
 were I,tnt i J°? "' f""^ '"'^''5. on the mountain-side,, 
 
 Zl T^ ■ /''*-:; ' *"■ ^^ *'"''5 "' y™"* "■™. ''ho were 
 fond of the sport. The winter ij the dull business season there, 
 
 long wltr. "■ " ' ™ """* '"'"■'= *'■»* '■""'« **^ 
 
 '>'• But the vounff peonlfi nvo nnf i/ii/^ fu — ij i.. , 
 
 '!« I1.11./I ..o 44 ' , . '^ • ^"^"- ^"'-■J play aooiit 
 
 't^ haid a§ tiiey work m summer, and dhief among their sports 
 
u 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 is toboggan-sliding. The dub dress wa§ a very pretty one, 
 made ofWte blanketing, one dub being distiQgm^ed from 
 another by the €olor§ of the blanket-border§, and also by their 
 sa^es and their tQques. 
 
 3. When Ealph'8 party €ame in sight of the Mount Koya 
 slide, it was crowded with €lub memberg, their fnend§, and 
 spectators, and pregented a very n6vd and picturesque^ ap- 
 pearance. Ralph had brought an extra toboggan with him, 
 intending to steer himself down the slide ; but when he saw 
 toboggan after toboggan, loaded with two or more slider?, da^ 
 down the steep ^oot of the starting platform, glide at railway 
 speed along the i9y incline, jump several indheg i^to the air 
 over the smooth bumper, and take a final plunge d(^n the long 
 slide between the great snow-banks, hi§ self-confidenQe gave 
 way and he put 6ff hi§ steering until the slide wa§ less steep or 
 
 / But Herbert, who looked like a young Polar bear, in hi§ 
 white suit,wa9 not td be put off. Ralph ^^^^'^\^f^^2 
 would guide him. So the two boy§ mounted the platfoim. 
 When liey readied the top of the slide, Ralph IfM down 
 with f res^ misgivingg. The pitdi wa§ so steep and the tobog- 
 gan whidi had just stated went so swiftly, that he would gladly 
 have backed out. But hi§ pride and Herbert's «0h p^aw, 
 there's nothing to be afraid of ! " ahke led him to take hi§ plaije 
 upon the toboggan, Whidi Herbert wa§ holding upon ttie ^oot. 
 5 "Are you ready? "said Herbert. " Yes," said Ralph, «a§ 
 ready as I ever ^all be."-« Wdl, then, hang on !" cried hi§ 
 cousin as he jumped on behind Ralph, sitting on sideway? witti 
 hi§ left foot extended backward to serve a§ the rudder witn 
 whidi to steer their course. ^ 
 
 e Away they diot down the steep dedivity, with the wind 
 ruling and whistling abmit Ralph's ear§. A§ they approadied 
 the bumper hole, he diut hi§ eye§ and held on for dear life,_for 
 tiie terrific speed and the bumping motion of the toboggan 
 made him grasp the low side-pie9e in desperation." 
 
 7. The bumping hole safely passed, he began to enjoy hi§ 
 
 1 Picturesque (pikt'yQrgsk'), hav- 
 ing the kiud of beauty vvhidh ig most 
 agreeable in a pi«ture. 
 
 « Despera' tion, the a«t of de- 
 ax^aWK-nrr or nf AnvKsr without regard 
 to danger or safety. 
 
A WINTER CARNIl^AL. 
 
 4S 
 
 rapid slide, and he wag just wiping it longer, when the tobog- 
 gan in front of them slewed arcamd and spilled its load 6flf. 
 Before Herbert €ould steer to one side, they too were upon the 
 wreck, and were themselveg "spilled." In an instant another 
 toboggan €ame dating- among them, and thus three sled-loadg 
 were mixed up upon the slide. But no one wag badly hurt, for 
 thege sledg are so light and elastic that the dhan9e§ of injury 
 are very mucOi less than with the heavier steel-^od sledg. 
 
 8. In a few moments all were up again, laughing at their 
 mishap and bru^ing off the dry snow. Ralph was initiated 
 now, and a§ eager for another slide ag hi§ eougin €ould have 
 wi^ed him to be. He wa§ sorry enough v/hen they were sum- 
 moned home to dinner. On the way down the road, he tried 
 steering hi§ own tobogga?' ^i the steap pla9e§, and soon found 
 that it •* answered the . . ^.5 the sailorg say, very readily. 
 
 9. After dinner, all ^;mi - wn to Dominion Square to see 
 the inauguration of th . '-f ^,ala9e, and the tordhlight pro9es- 
 sion of the snow-^oe duog. The eleetrie lights shone through 
 the sideg of the pala9e and made it look like a fairy castle of 
 ground glass. Thougaudg of people in warm furg crowded 
 about it and listened to the bandg of mugic inside. The snow- 
 ^oe clubg with their tordieg surrounded three sideg of the 
 Square with a line of light, and at given signalg ^owerg of 
 rockets as9ended from the 9enter and Roman candleg were let 
 6ff from ttie whole line. The i9e pala9e was brightly lighted 
 with colored fireg, one tower being red, another green, and 
 another blue. "Hie effect wag almost magical.* 
 
 10. Ralph Ivodney'g first day at the carnival wag but the 
 beginning of many dajg wtidh were filled with delight, and 
 crowded with sights and sceneg never to be forgotten. Soon 
 tobogganing occupied nearly all big time, and nothing pleased 
 him more than eougin Herbert's account of how he had on9e 
 gone tobogganing down the i9e-€one of the fallg of Montmo- 
 ren9i, near Quebec. He said that the i9e-cone roge over a hun- 
 dred feet high at the foot of the Fallg, wTiere it ig made larger 
 eadh day by the spray whidh free zeg upon it, told him of the 
 
 ' MSg'ical, relating to the hidden hencje, seemingly requiring more 
 wi§dom thought to he possessed by than human TK>wer : im 
 the Magi, or holy men of the East'; startling in performanije. 
 
 imrw-kQivLiv f\-m 
 
! Ji 
 
 40 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 1M1 
 
 great cavera in ttie €one, ^owed him the beautiful engraving 
 that i§ printed in this lesson and spoke of so many otlier won- 
 der§ ttiat Ralph wag anxious to add Quebee, also, to tiie winter 
 €arnival trip. 
 
 11. He enjoyed jolly snow-^oe trips over the mountain, went 
 to the fanoy-dress skating carnival at the Victoria Rink, Avatdied 
 tlie €urling clubs at their ex9iting game§ upon tlie i9e, and 
 
WHAT I LIFE FOR. 
 
 47 
 
 considered hi§ visit to Montreal a grand success. Hi§ only 
 regret i§ that Boston ean not be moved to Montreal, so that he 
 may have winter§ €old enough to aflford more of sport than of 
 slu^, and more of downright winter fun than i| possible amid 
 the dampness and dhilly east wiud§ of tiie usual Bfiston winter. 
 
 IIL 
 
 3. WHAT I LIVE FOR. 
 
 I LIVE for tho§e who love me, 
 Who§e hearts are kind and triie ; 
 For the Hfiaven that smile§ above me, 
 
 And awaits my spirit too ; 
 
 For all human tie§ tliat bind me. 
 
 For the task by G5d assigned me. 
 
 For the hopes not left behind me, 
 
 And the good that I €an do. 
 
 2. I live to learn their story 
 
 Who've suffered for my sake ; 
 To emulate ^ their glory. 
 
 And follow in their wake ; 
 Bardg,2 patriots,8 martyr^,^ sage§,5 
 The noble of all age§, 
 Who§e deed§ erown history'^ page§, 
 
 And time'§ great volume make. 
 
 S. I live to hold communion * 
 With all that i§ divine ; 
 To feel there i§ a union 
 
 'Twixt nature'§ heart and mine ; 
 To profit by aflflietion,' 
 Reap truths from fields of fietion,^ 
 
 ' Bm'n late, strive to equal or sur- 
 pass in a«tiong or qualities J rival. 
 
 * BSrds, poets. 
 
 * Pa' tri ot, one who loveg hig 
 «ountry and earnestly supports and 
 defends ' 
 
 ' Mar tyrsjiixose who suffer death 
 
 or loss for religion. 
 " Sa^es, wise men, usually Sged. 
 
 • Communion (kom mun'yun), in- 
 ter«5urse ; fellowAip. 
 
 ■" Afflic'tion, grief ; sorrow ; pain. 
 
 * Pic'tion, ttiat Whidh is made up 
 or imagined ; a feigned stOry. 
 
48 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Grow wi§er from €onvi*'-tion,^ 
 And fulfill eadh grand design. 
 
 Jf. 
 
 5. 
 
 I live to hail that date 
 
 By gifted mindg foretold, 
 When men ^all live by faith, 
 
 And not &l6no by gold ; 
 When man to man united, 
 And every wrfing thing righted. 
 The whole world ^all be lighted 
 
 A§ Eden wa§ of old. 
 
 I live for tho§e who love me, 
 
 For thoge who know me true ; 
 For the Heaven that smileg above me. 
 
 And awaits my spirit, too ; 
 For the €au§e that lacks assistanQe, 
 For the wr5ng that need§ registanQC, 
 For the future ir the distan9e. 
 And tiie good that I eau do. 
 
 ♦>*■■ 
 
 SECTION II. 
 I. 
 
 4. THE YOU.WG TRADERS. 
 
 TWO COUNTRY LADS came, at an early hour, to a mar- 
 ket town, and, arranging 2 their little standg, sat down to 
 wait for €U8tomer§.8 One of the boy§ had a stdck * of fruits and 
 vegetableg, nearly the whole of which had been cultivated by 
 himself. The otiier lad had a supply of fi^, wliidh hig father, 
 who lived in a filing village near the town, had eaught. 
 
 2. The market hourg passed on, and the little mgrdhants saw 
 wiiii pleasure' th^ir storeg steadily decreasing ;« and so they 
 
 • Oon vic'tion, belief ari§ing from * StiSck, & -coUeetion of salable ar- 
 
 proof. ti«le§ or goodg. 
 
 » Ay ySn joiner, setting in oTder. ' Pleasure (plSzh'ur). 
 
 3 Oua'tom er,& regular buyer. * Decreaa'lng, lessening. 
 
THE VyUNG TRADERS. 
 
 49 
 
 t salable ar- 
 
 rattled the money Wliidh they hud re9eived in exdhfinge, witii 
 great satisfaetion. * 
 
 3. The last melon hly on Harry'g stand, Whtn & gentleman 
 €ame vp and, plaQing hi§ hand upon it. said, -What & fine 
 large melon ! How do you sell tliia, my lad ? " 
 
 I "It i§ the last one I have, sir; and tiiough it looks v6rv 
 mir, It i§ unsound," said tiie boy, turning it over. " So it is '' 
 said the gentleman « But," he added, " ig it very buginess-like 
 to pomt out tiie u feets^ of your stock to eustomerg ?" 
 
 S *' It i§ better than being dighonost, sir,'^ said the boy mod- 
 estly. YQuare right, my little man; alwayg remember that 
 pnn9iple, and you will find favor with G6d and man also. I 
 shall remember your little stand in future." 
 
 J'i^l ^ *Ti^ ^''f ' " ^'' ^«»«""«d, going on a few steps 
 to ttie ottier lad'g stand. "Yes, sir, fre^ tiiis morning; I 
 caught them myself," wa^, tiie reply, and a ptirdhase^ ^ing 
 made, the gentleman went away. 
 
 7. "Harry, What a fool ygu wSre to ^ow the gentleman that 
 mark on the melon. Now you ean take it home, or throw it 
 away. How mudh wiger ig he about thoge fi^ father eaught 
 yesterday ? Sold ttiem for tiie same pri^e I did the fre^ ones. 
 He would never have looked at the melon until he got home.- 
 
 8. Ben, I wou, not tell a lie, nor aet one either, for twice 
 ^lat I have earned s this morning. Besideg, I ^all be better 
 off in tiie end, for I have gained a good eustomer and you have 
 
 nptlf nil Z'K^'T^'l''' ^' ""^* ^^y ^« gentleman bought 
 
 It;' ^^ ^?1'"^ "'^'*"^^^^§ «^ H^^y^ b"* ^«^er spent 
 
 another penny at the stand of hig neighbor. Thus the season 
 passed : ^e gentleman, finding he €ould alwayg g&t a good arti- 
 cle from Harry, made regular purdha^eg, and sometimeg talked 
 Hi^ him a few moments about hig future hopes and prospects. 
 
 AVhln ^"^ r' ^ ""^'^^^^ ^^^ ^^"'^'§ ^''^^ ambitdon,* and 
 When the winter eame on, the gentleman, wanting a trustworthy 
 
 "Defgct'.A fault; tho w^nt or 
 absence of somefliing needful to 
 niake 4 thing complete or perfe«t ; 
 failing; imperfection. 
 
 ^POr'chase, that Whidi ig ob- 
 
 tained by giving an equivalent in 
 money or value ; the act of buying 
 • Earn, to get by our own work, 
 jatinbitioa, an eager wish for au 
 improved -condition. 
 
1 1 
 
 '■iii 
 
 
 no DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 boy in hi§ own wArehouse, do9ided on giving t^e pla^o to Harry. 
 Steadily Ld surely' he advan9ed in the eonfiden9e of h.5 em- 
 poyer^until, havi'ng passed through various ^J-'^^fj; 
 elerk^ip, he became at longfli an honored and respected part- 
 ner in tlie firm.'' 
 
 II. 
 
 5. KEEPmG HIS WORD. 
 
 (I 
 
 MATCHES ! Only a penny a box," he said ; 
 But the gentleman ttlrned away hi§ head, 
 A§ if he ^rank* from the squalid » sight 
 Of the boy who stood in the failing light. 
 J9 « sir I" he stammered," " You can not know"— 
 ' And he bru^ed from hi§ matdheg t^e flakes of snow, 
 That the sudden tear might have dhan9e to fall ; 
 « Or I think— I think you would take them all. 
 
 3. " Hungry and cold at our garret pane, 
 ' Kuhy'will watdh till I come again, 
 Bringing the loaf.— i^e sun hc§ set. 
 And he hasn't a crumb of breakfast yet. 
 
 L " One penny, and I can buy the bread." _ 
 The gentleman stopped. " And ygu ?" he said. 
 « I ?_1 can put up with the hunger and cold. 
 But Rtthy i§ only five year§ old. 
 
 5. «I promised my mother before ^e went— 
 
 * She knew I would do it, and died content— 
 I promised her, sir, thrQUgh best, through worst, 
 I alwayg would think of Rv}hy first." 
 
 6. The gentleman paused at hi§ open door; 
 
 Such taleg he had 6ftm heard before ; 
 
 » Surely (^Qrly), in & sure or 
 qertain way. 
 
 * Qra da'tions, 1 " ' steps. 
 
 •Firm (firm), fei^ ime under 
 Whidi & company d6e§ buginess ; 
 hen<;e, iiie -eompany or house. 
 
 ■» Shrink (Ar&ngk), drew back. 
 
 5 SquaUd (skwSl'id), very dirty 
 {hreugh neglect ; filthy. 
 
 « St5m' mered, pronouncjed in & 
 faltering manner; spoke with stops 
 
 _ ..™, ,. ■ ■ 
 
 and uiincuiiy 
 
 olUtLCX'CU. 
 
KEEPING HIS WORD, 
 
 61 
 
 Bnt he fumbled 1 hi§ pArse in tfie twilight =» drearS- 
 I have nothing less than a billing ^ here." 
 
 ''• " ?^ ^'^> '^ yft"'" only take the pack, 
 1 11 bnng you the dhange ^ ii moment back ; 
 Indeed you may trust « rae."-- Trust you ? no f 
 __BuUiere^ tiie shilling ; take it and go." 
 
 the set4'or fefotirtw'%' ^ SWlOing.a. Engli^ silver .oi„ 
 
 the sun. ^ "^"« "^ ^^'^ ^bo«t twenty.four gents of 
 
 3 •n,.s«_ . our monev. 
 
 Drear, causing dieerless feel- ^ Tn1«f ^ i,.,5„„e - T>«t f.T • 
 
 '"g§ ; giooiuy und lonely: without give credit to! '"' 
 
i 
 
 Si DOMINION lOURTH READER, 
 
 8, Tho gentloman lollodi iu hi^ €Ozy» dhAir, 
 And w^tdhed bi^ 9ij?ar-wreath melt m tiu' Air, 
 And smiled on hi^ ^aiildren, and ro§e to see 
 Tiio baby asleep on its raother'jj knoo. 
 
 a " And now it i§ nine by tlie tloek," he said, 
 « Time tiiat my darlingsj were all in bed ; 
 Kiss me good-night, and eadh be sure, ^ 
 
 Wlien yftu're sayiitg your prdyer^, remember the poor. 
 
 10, Just then €ame a message ^-^^ A boy at ttie door "- 
 But ere it wa§ uttered,* he stood on tiie floor, 
 Hiilf breathless^ bewildered,' and ragged, and strange : 
 « I'm Ruby-Mike's brother-I'vo brought you tiie cOiange. 
 
 U, « Mike's h .it, sir ; 'twa§ dark ; trlie snow made him blind, 
 And he didn't tako noti9e tlie train w^§ behmtl, 
 Till he slipped on fclie track-and tlien it whizzed by; 
 And he'§ home in tti« garret-1 think he will die. 
 
 m "Yet nothing would do him, sir-nothing would do, 
 But wit tlirough tlie snow I must huriT to you ; 
 Of his h^rt he was certain you wouldn t have heard, 
 And so you might think ho had broken hi§ word. 
 
 IS When the garret tliey hastily « entered, tiie^ saw 
 iwoarm5,Lngled,';0iapeless,outstretc^edf^^^ 
 - You did it?--doar Ruby-G5d bless you,'' he said ; 
 And tiie boy, gladly smiling, sank back-and wa^ dead. 
 
 III. 
 6'. HELPma FATHER, 
 
 PART FIRST, 
 
 MONEY d6e§ not last« 16ng nowaday §, Clarissa," said 
 Mr. Andrews to hi§ wife one evemng. "It i§ only 
 a week sinQe ^ re9eived my monfh^^ary^ iiow^I ^^^^e^ 
 
 > Lttlled, lay at eage. 
 
 * 05'zy, snug ; comfortable. 
 
 8 MSs'sage, any noti<;c sent from 
 one pordoii to asotV-". 
 
 * Ut'tered, spoken ; pronouncjed. 
 
 Be wU' dered, «onf u§ed ; puz- 
 zled ; €onfoanded. 
 6 Has' ti ly, quickly. 
 1 MSn'gled, bruiged : WQunded. 
 8 Last (l&st), He i^ote B, p. 16. 
 
HELPING 14THER. 
 
 63 
 
 little m6re Hian half of it left. I bought A €ord of pine w.KkI 
 to-dfly, and t()-ni6rr«iw I must pay for tiiat suit ol €lottic§ wliidh 
 D&uiei had : tiiat will be flfteeii dollarg more." 
 
 2. ''And Daniel will need a pair of now su^o^ in ;•. day or 
 two,-, tiio§e ho wedrs nowaro all ripped, and hardly Ht io wear," 
 siiid (sM) Mrs. Andre W5. *' How fast he wcar.5 wit fOifteg ! It 
 seem§ hardly A * Tt'night 8in9e I bought tiie last tOiocs for 
 him," said tJie father. ' 
 
 3. «« Oh, well! But tiien he enjoyg running about bo very 
 mudh tiiat I can not dhcck hiij pl(5asure a§ long a§ it i§ quite 
 harmle-o. I am sure you would feel n^rry to see tiio little ^005 
 last longer from not being ufjed so much," answered tiie affec- 
 tionate 1 Diotlier. 
 
 4. Daniel, during tiiis €onver, m,' wa? sitting » 1 tlie floor 
 in a comer with hi^ kitten, tryin^ to toadli her to stjind upon 
 her hind leg§. He wa? apparently a mudh occupied* witii his 
 effr.rt8,» but he heard all that his fatlier and moiiier had said. 
 Pretty 6 so'on he tlr6§e, and, going to hi§ fatiier, climbed upon 
 hi$ knee and said, *' Papa', do I c6st you a good deal of money ? " 
 
 6. Now, Mr. Andrew!;! wa^ book-keeper for a manufacturing 
 company, and hi§ salary wa§ hardly sufficient for him to live 
 comfortably at ttio high rate at whidli (5v^ry thing wa.s selling. 
 He h}> i nothing to spare for superfluitie?,' and hi§ dhief enjoy- 
 ment wa§ being at home witii hi^ wife and boy, hi§ books and 
 picture?. Daniel'§ question wa§ a queers one, but his fattier 
 replied a§ correctly a$ he could. 
 
 6. « Whatever money you may c6st me, my son, I do not 
 regret it, for I know tiiat it add? to your comfort and enjoy- 
 ment. To be sure, your papa does not have a gi-eat deal of 
 money, but he would be poor indeed without lii§ little Daniel." 
 — " How mudh will my new suit of clothes cost? " asked Dan- 
 iel. " Fifteen dollar?, " wa§ the reply. « And hwv mudh for my 
 ^oe§?"— "Two dollars more, per haps," said hi§ fatlier. 
 
 ' Af fSc' tion ate, having great 
 love ; fond, 
 
 * 05n ver sa' tion, familiar dis- 
 course or talk ; dhat. 
 
 » Apparently (ap ptr' ent li), in 
 appearance , aaemingly. 
 
 " yccu pied, employed ; bu§ied. 
 
 " Effort, use of strength or pow- 
 er ; & struggle or earnest attempt. 
 
 •Pretty (prifti), modorately ; 
 quite. 
 
 ' Su per flii' i t;^, overmucfh. 
 
 « Queer, differing oddly from 
 n^at i| •♦'omnaon. 
 
in 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 7. " That will make seventeen dollars. I wi^ I eould work 
 and earn some money for you, father," said Daniel. " Oh, well, 
 my son, don't think about that now. If you are a good boy, 
 and study well at sehool, tliat will repay me," said Mr. Andrews. 
 
 8. Daniel said no more, but he determined to try at on9e and 
 see if he «ould not help to pay for tiio €lothes hi§ father wa§ so 
 kind a§ to buy him. 'That v6ry afternoon the load of wood 
 Whidh his father bought eame, and wa? thrown off elose to the 
 cellar-door. It wa§ *!iaturday, and there wa§ no sehool. 
 
 9 "Now I ean save father some money," thought Daniel; 
 and he ran into the house to ask hi§ mother if he could put ttie 
 wood into the 9ellar. "I am afraid it i§ too heavy work for 
 
 you, my son," said his mother. . , ^ in 
 
 10 "Ithi-;vl€andoit,mother. The wood lie§ elose to the 
 nellar-door, and all I will have to do is to pitdli it right down," 
 replied Daniel. " V6ry well, you may try it ; but if you find it 
 too hard, you must let old Tom put it in," said hi§ mother. 
 
 11. Daniel danged awaV, and went first to the (jellar, ^ere 
 he unhooked the trap-door and opened it, and climbed out into 
 the yard Where the sticks of wood lay in a great heap. At first 
 it was good fun to ser tiie sticks clattering one on top of the 
 other down into the < iar, but pretty soDn it grew tedious,* and 
 Daniel began to think tliat he had rather do something else. 
 
 m Just then George Flyson eame into the yard and asked 
 Daniel if he wa§n't going to fisTi for smelts that day. "I guess 
 not. This wood must go in, and then it will be too late to go 
 so far this afternoon," replied Daniel. 
 
 IS " Oh, let the wood alone ! We have got some round at our 
 ho^ise that ought to go in, but I slia'n't do it. Father may hire 
 a man to ao sudh wo.k. Come, old Tom will be glad of that 
 job" said Ge^-ge. "No, I am going to do ttiis before any 
 fhii^ else," said Daniel, a§ he picked up a big stick and sent it 
 flying down tlie 9ellar-way. , , t^i 
 
 U "Did your old man make you do it?" asked Flyson. 
 '' Who'" queried Daniel, so flharply ^i^t tlie boy suw hi§ error, 
 and corrected hi§ form of question. "Did your father make 
 you do tills job?" , . , ^ 
 
 15. '' No: he does not know I am doing it ; an d, by the way, 
 
 " "rT9'<ii ous, dull ; tiresome from length or slowness. 
 
HELPING FATHER, 
 
 55 
 
 George Flysou, don't you eall my father 'old man/ If yon 
 don't know any better than to treat your father disrespectfully, 
 you ^aVt treat mine so," answered Daniel. 
 
 16. "Ho ! Seem§ you are getting mighty pious all of A sud- 
 den. ^ Guess I A have to be going. I'm not good enough for 
 you ; " and, with a sneering look, George went 6ff. 
 
 IV. 
 7. HELPING FATHER, 
 
 PART SECOND, 
 
 THE WOOD-PILE in the 9ellar grew larger, until tiie 
 wood-pile in the yard wa§ all gdne ; ttien Daniel Aut 
 down the trap-door, ran into the h>Hise and bru^ed hi§ elotheg, 
 and started out to find hi§ playmates and have a game of base- 
 ball. He felt v^ry happy, for he had earned something for & 
 kind father who wa§ alway§ earning something for him; and 
 the thought of this plea§ed him mudh. 
 
 2. He felt happier still i^en hi§ father eame home to supper, 
 and said M^ile at the table, "My wood did not f;ome, did it, 
 mother ? I told the man to send it up this afternoon, 9ertainly." 
 Mr. Andrews al^-y§ called hi§ wife « mother."— « Oh, yes, the 
 wood eame. I saw the team back into the yard," replied Mrs. 
 Andrewg. 
 
 3. " Then old Tom must have put it in. I suppose he will 
 dharge fifty or seventy-five 9ents for doing it," said Mr. An- 
 drews. « I think a boy put it in," said hi§ wife. « What boy ? " 
 — " Oh, a smai-t little fallow that p]ay§ around h jre k good deal. 
 He wanted the job, and so I let him do it," said Mrs. Andrew§. 
 
 4. " Some little boy who wanted some pocket-money, I sup- 
 pose. Who§e boy wa§ it ?" asked Mr. Andrewg. "There he i§ ; 
 lie will tell you all about it ; " and Mrs. Andrewg pointed to 
 Daniel, who wa§ enjoying the fun quietly. And now he wa§ 
 pleased indeed to hear how gratified hi§ father wag at finding 
 nig little boy so industrious and flioughtful. It repaid him 
 amply for not going smelt-fi^in^. 
 
 5. It wa§ not 16ng after this that the bleak » winds of Novem- 
 
 • Bleak, -eold and sweeping ; dlieerlees. 
 
 " *' y ^ 
 
S6 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 W 
 
 ber began to blow. The leave§ of the trees fell lifeless to the 
 garth, and 6v6ry thing prepared to put on the ermine ^ garb of 
 winter. One evening \dien Daniel went to bed, he put aside 
 hi§ eArtain, and looked out into the street. lie wa§ surpri§ed 
 to find it white with snpw. Silently and gently, one by one, 
 the tiny 2 flakes had fallen, until hillside and valley, street and 
 house-top, were covered with ttie spdtloss snow. 
 
 6. "I wonder how deep it will be by morning. Perhaps 
 there will be enough for sleighing. Old Tom will be round to 
 elear 6ff the sidewalk and platformg. I must get ahSad of him 
 this winter, and save father some more money;" and Daniel 
 got into bed a§ quickly as he €Ould, so that he sTiould awake 
 early in the morning. 
 
 7. When Mr. Andrew§ awoke the next day, he h6ard tiie 
 scraping of a i^ovel on tiie sidewalk, and said to his wife, 
 "Tom has got al6ng early tiiis morning. These snow-storm§ 
 are profitable to him. Last winter I guess I paid him five or 
 six dollar§ for hoveling snow.^' 
 
 8. When he got up, however, and looked out of the window, 
 he wa§ not a little astoni^ed to see Daniel ^oveliiig 6ff tlie 
 sidewalk, hi§ dheeks all aglow with the healthy exergige. 
 
 9. ** See ttiat boy, motiher," said he to hig wife ; " he ha§ 
 cleared the walk 6ff ni9ely. What a good little fallow he i§! 
 When Christmas €ome§, we must reward him for this." 
 
 10. And so Daniel went on according to this beginning. He 
 cleared the snow 5fE after every storm. In the spring-time he 
 put ttie garden and yard all in order, and did a great many 
 thing§ wTiidh hi§ father had alwayg paid a man for doing. And 
 he had plenty of time to play beside§, and then he enjoyed hi§ 
 play better, because there i§ alway§ a satisfaction in doing well, 
 whidh lend§ a dharm to every thing we undertake. 
 
 11. One day, about a year after the day that Daniel had put 
 in the first load of wood, his father said to him, '* My son, I 
 have kept a memorandum ** of the work that you have done for 
 
 ' Er'mine, an animal related to, 
 or somewhat re§embling, the wea§el. 
 It inhabits northern «limates, and 
 ha§ White fur in winter ; hen^e, 
 snow ig «alled the ermine ffci/rb. 
 
 ' Ti'n^, little ; very small. 
 
 * MSm' o rSn' dum, & written a*- 
 •count of something Whi(^ it i§ de- 
 gired or wi^ed to remember ; a 
 note to help the memory. 
 
HAND AND HEART, 
 
 57 
 
 me the paat year, and find that, allowing you What I ^ould 
 have paid old Tom or any other person, I owe you to-day forty- 
 two dollar§ and sixty 9ents." 
 
 12. «A§ mudh a§ that, father? Why, I did not know I 
 eould 6am so mudi all myself, and I did not work v6ry hard 
 either,^' said* Daniel. "Some of it wa§ pretty hard work for 
 a little boy that likes to play,'' replied hi§ father ; '' but you did 
 it well, and now I am ready to pay you." 
 
 13. " Pay me ? What ! the re'al money right in my handg ? " 
 — "Y68, the real money;" ^nd Mr. Andrewg pla9ed a roll of 
 " bank-notes." in his little sca'§ hands. 
 
 H, Daniel looked at it for a few minutes, and then said, " I'll 
 tell you T^^at to do with this money for me, papa." 
 
 15. "What, my son ?"— "Buy my elotheg with it for the 
 next year," said Daniel And Mr. Andrew? did so. 
 
 V. 
 
 8, HAJVD AJVIJ HEART. 
 
 IN STORM or ^ine, two friendg of mine 
 Go forth to work or play ; 
 And when they visit poor men'§ home§, 
 They bless them by the way. 
 
 2. 'Tig willing hand ! 'tis dheerful heart ! 
 
 The two best friendg I know ; 
 Around tiie hearth ' €ome joy and mirfh,^ 
 Where'er their fa9e§ glow. 
 
 3. Come Aine, 'tis bright ! come dark, 'ti§ light ! 
 
 Come eold, 'ti§ warm 4re< 16ng ! 
 So heavily fall the hammer-stroke ! 
 Merrily sound the sdng ! 
 
 .'f. Who fall§ may stand, if good right hand 
 I§ first, not second best : 
 Who weeps may sing, if kindly heart 
 Ha§ lodging in hi§ breast. 
 
 ' Said (sgd). 
 
 - Searth (harth). 
 
 ' Mirth (merth). see Note 4. p. 16. 
 * Ere (ar), sooner ttian ; before. 
 
!ii 
 
 '>L 
 
 I 
 
 58 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 5. The humblest board hag dainties poured, 
 
 When they sit down to dine ; 
 The €rust they eat i§ honey-sweet, 
 The wftter good a§ wine. 
 
 6. They fill the pi&rse ^ with h6nest gold, 
 
 They lead no creature * wr6ng ; ^ 
 So heavily fall the hammer-stroke I 
 Merrily sound the sftng ! 
 
 7. Without t}ie§e twain,* the poor complain 
 
 Of evil§ hard to bedr ; " 
 But with them poverty grows ridh. 
 And find§ a loaf to spAre ! ^ 
 
 8. Their looks are fire ; their word§ inspire ; 
 
 Their deed§ give courage high ; — 
 About their k^ee§ the Children run. 
 Or cUmb, they know not why. 
 
 9 Who sail§, or ride§, or walks with tliem. 
 Ne'er findg the journey 16ng ; — 
 So heavily fall tiie hammer-stroke ! 
 Merrily sound the s6ng ! 
 
 VI. 
 9. SUPPORTIJ^G MOTHER, 
 
 JEAN VIDAL' wag a boy nine years old. He lived in 
 Aurillae,^ Fran9e. Hi§ mother, a widow, from being ridh 
 became v6ry poor. She had four song, of whom Jean wag 
 the youngest. 
 
 2. Two kind gentlemen obtained good pla9eg for the three 
 older boyg ; but ag Jean wag a bright lad, they sent him to 
 a boarding-school that he might be well educated. The expense 
 
 J Pxirse (pers), see Note 4, p. IG. 
 
 * Creature (kref yer), any thing 
 «reated ; an animal ; h man. 
 
 3 Wrbng, see Note 5, p. 16. 
 
 * Twain, two, 
 
 ' Bear (bfir), see Note 2, p. 16. 
 
 * Spare (spftr). 
 
 ' Vidal (ve dalO. 
 
 8 Aurillac (5'r6l yak'). 
 
 I, If ' 
 
SUPPORTING MOTHER. 
 
 59 
 
 of doing this, and supporting his mother at the same time, 
 tiiey soon found to be too great, and so re§olved to send the 
 ])oor old mother to A hdspital, a§ it wa§ then called; but in 
 reality an alm§-hou8e.* 
 
 S. The dhild, away at school, knew nothing of this. Wiping 
 to break the matter to him a§ tenderly a§ possible, the €ur63 
 of the village invited Jean to hi§ house for a hdliday; and the 
 boy came in hi§ best clotheg. 
 
 Jh Just a§ he arrived the €ur6 wa§ called away for a few 
 minutes (min'its), and while alone, little Jean opened a book, 
 when out fell a paper. It wa§ an order to admit big mother 
 to the hdspital. A§ soon a§ Jean read it, he left the house and 
 ran back to school a§ fast a§ he could go, put 6fE hi§ hdliday 
 clothe?, and dressed himself in hi§ Sv^ry day suit. 
 
 5. ''Ah, poor dhild!" said the cur6, \dien the boy came 
 back, "curiosity 8 led you astray; but the fault ha§ brought 
 its own puni^m6nt; you have been hiding yourself to cry 
 over it." 
 
 e. "No, kind sir," answered tiie brave and noble little fal- 
 low; « I have not been crying. I know it all. My mother 
 ^all not go to the hdspital : sLe would die of grief. I will 
 not return to school. I will support her." 
 
 7. Toudhed and surprised, the cur6 tried to reason with 
 him, and took him to sSv^ral of hig friend§, who told him that 
 he could best s6rve hi§ mother by getting a good education, 
 \<^idh would enable him, in after year§, to provide for her com- 
 fortably. But, hi§ one ide'a wa§ to save her from the hdspital, 
 and he could not be turned froni hi§ purpose. 
 
 8. He asked hi§ brothers to help him, and I am sdrry to say 
 that they refuged. Then he begged them to lend him a small 
 sum, on Whidh to begin some business (biz'nds). Poor boy! 
 only nine year§ old; w^at could he do? and they coldlv and 
 criielly denied this also ! 
 
 9. A tender dhild, alone, fri6ndl^ss--^^^at a task he had 
 before him! G6d leadg the right purpose into right way§. 
 
 ' Alms-house (amz'hous), & house 
 set apart for the use of the poor. 
 
 * Cure (ku raO, the Frendh word 
 for par itiii priest j a «ier^yman ; one 
 
 who ha§ the «ure of soulg. 
 
 8 Ou ri 6s' i t^, k de§ire to seek 
 After knowledge, or to gratify tiie 
 mind witjj new inforwfttioii. 
 
60 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Jean had a watdh wliidh the prefect ^ had given him a§ 
 a reward for study and good eonduet at sehool. 
 
 10. This, and some of hi§ clothing, he sold, and with the 
 small capital thus obtained, bought cakes and dhildren'§ toy§ 
 and went about the streets selling them. In this way he was 
 able to earn money enough to keep both hi5 mother and him- 
 self from want. 
 
 11. Dear little fellow! Do not y^ur hearts grow warm 
 toward him ? Think of hi.^ pure love, and devotion, and cAre 
 for hi§ mother. Take tiiat dear one, who had watdhed over 
 him so lovingly, and supplied all hi§ need§ in hi§ infauQy and 
 dhildhood, to the alm§-house! No! no! Not while he had 
 heart, and brain, and hand§! 
 
 12. Did little Jean persevere in hi§ good work? Wa5 he 
 able to support his mother? Y6s: nineteen year§ afterward, 
 when he had grown to be a man, he wa§ living a§ porter to an 
 inn in Aurillac, still taking care of her, and making her happy 
 by hi§ loving attentions. ' During all the§e year§, he had been 
 faithful to her, refusing all offers tliat would separate him from 
 hi§ mother. 
 
 13. This life-devotion of Jean Vidal to hi§ motlier wa§ 
 a golden deed, precious in tiie eye§ of Him who know^th all 
 hearts, and who, in His own good time, give§ ridh and un- 
 ending reward§. 
 
 vn. 
 
 10. THE AJ^'GEL'S BIBBIMG. 
 
 NOT A SOUND i§ heard in the Convent ; 
 The Vesper dhant is sung, 
 The sick have all been tended, 
 The poor nun^§ toil§ are ended 
 
 Till the Matin 8 bell has rung. 
 All i§ still, save the clock, 
 So loud in the frdsty dir, 
 And the s6ft snow falling as gently 
 As an i\ns?<^er to a prdyer. 
 
 wm 
 
 'PrS'fect, an 8ffi(;er in Fr&n(;e 
 who superintendg one of the depart- 
 ments or divisioni of the -eountry, 
 
 and ha§ dharge of its poll"<;e fOr^. 
 
 * MSt' in, morning ; relating te 
 the Jirst or morning Office, 
 
Tun anoevs ^idbinc. 
 
 2. But an Angel Vhisper§, **0 Sister, 
 
 Yqu must ri§e from your bed to prfiy : 
 In tiie silent de§Srted dhapel, 
 
 You must kneel till the dawn of day ; 
 For, far on the desolate i moorland," 
 
 So dreary,3 and bleak,* and Vhite, 
 ■Kiere i§ one all alone and helpless, 
 
 In peril of death to-night. 
 
 5. "No sound on the moorland to gwide him, 
 
 No star in the miirky ' Air, 
 And he thinks of hi§ home and hi§ loved one§ 
 
 Witli the tenderness of despair : 
 He ha§ wandered for hour§ in the snow-drift, 
 
 And he strive§« to stand in vain. 
 And he lie§ down to dream of hi§ dhildren, 
 
 And never to ri§e again. 
 
 4. " Then kneel in the silent dhapel 
 
 Till the dawn' of to-morrow'§ sun. 
 And ask with imploring prayer, 
 
 For the life of that desolate one ; 
 And the smiling eye§ of hi§ dhildren 
 
 Will gladden hi§ heart again, 
 And the grateful tear§ of Gdd's poor one§ 
 
 Will fall on yQur soul like rain ! 
 
 6. " Leave him not lonely to p6ri^. 
 
 But the gra9e of our God implore. 
 With all the strength of yQur spirit. 
 
 For one who need§ it more. 
 Far away, in the gleamii^^ ^j^y^ 
 
 'Mid p6r'fume,9 and s5ng, and light. 
 
 61 
 
 ' D^s'o late, without inhabitants 
 or people ; lonely. 
 
 ^ Moor' land, 4 large pie^e of 
 waste or mar^y land. 
 
 ^ Drear'^, cau§ing sad or lonely 
 feelings ; without -Gdrnfort. 
 
 * Bleak, swept by «old wind§. 
 
 " Mflrk' y, obs«ure ; thick I 
 «loudy. 
 
 « Strive, to try earnestly ; to 
 make a str8ng gffOrt, 
 
 '' Dawn, first appearan(;e ; rise ; 
 the break of day. 
 
 8 Gleam'ing, Ainii^ with fla^eg 
 of light ; fining with k «lear and 
 steady though faint light. 
 
 ' Perfume ( pgr'f nm ), A sweet 
 scent ; f ragran<;e. 
 
ei^ DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 A Boul that Je§us has r&nsomed * 
 I§ in peril ' of sin to-night. 
 
 6. The tempter' i§ close beside him. 
 
 And hig danger i§ all forgot, 
 And the far-otf voiges of dhildhood 
 
 Call alwid, but he hearg them not ; 
 He sayeCh no prayer, and hi§ mother — 
 
 He thinks not of her to-day, 
 And he will not look up to heaven, 
 
 And hi§ Angel i§ turning &way. 
 
 7. " Then pray for & soul in peril, 
 
 A soul for VhicOi Je§u8 died ; 
 Ask, by the crdss that bore Him, 
 
 And bv her who stood beside ; 
 And the Ange]§ of G6d will fhank you, 
 
 And bend from their fhrone§ of light. 
 To tell you that neaven rejoige^ 
 
 At the deed§* you have done to-night." 
 
 SECTION III. 
 I. 
 
 11, THE AJ^GEL'S WHISPER 
 
 ONCE a little gfrl wat§ walking out in the Aady wood 
 near her home, when i^e Idbked up into a thorn-tree, and 
 saw a pige6n'§ nest, with one White eg^ in it. The eg^ w?^ 
 so round, so smooth, so beautifully white, that i^e longed 
 to take it home and have it for her own, and wa§ just going 
 to do so, wTien ^e saw the pretty " wTiite pigeon come flying 
 around her with a sorrowful Idbk. 
 2. It said (sgd) in its own soft, cooing way, " Little girl, dear 
 
 ' RSn'somed, bought out of ser- 
 vice or puni^ment. 
 * PSr'il, very g:reat danger. 
 
 spt' sr, unc w iiu eadeavorg 
 
 or trieg to produce evil in otiierg. 
 
 * Deed, iiiat Wliidh ig effe«ted or 
 done ; a«t. 
 
 '' Pretty prit'u), neaii ; gra^ful. 
 
THE ANGMVS WHISPER. 
 
 63 
 
 little girl, leave me my one e^^; ohl leave me my dear little 
 egg; for it i§ my only one, and my heart will break if my 
 tender mate €ome§ back and find§ it gdne. 
 
 3. So the little girl looked first at tiie Qgg and then at the 
 pigeon, and gave a little «igh, wanting the egg so mudh, and 
 then thinking of Sister Mary'g story of St. Francis and the Birds 
 ^e quietly put it back into the nest, and walked slowly home 
 
 4. Not long after, this little ^irl'g only brother fell very ill 
 No doctor could cure him, and every one thought he must 
 die; so the little girl wa§ very unhappy, and the long nights 
 passed slowly and sadly, as s^e watdhed and prayed by the bed- 
 side ; and the large tear§ ran down her dheeks again (dg(5n') and 
 again, till her fa9e grew sadly thin and wan, and lAe could think 
 of noting but her dear little brother, t^o lay there with his 
 young hfe ebbing slowly away. 
 
 6. One evening, a§ ^e was sitting in hi§ ro'om in the s6ft 
 sprmg-time, with the window open, so that the frcA air 
 might come in and blow upon hi? poor pale fa9e, fHie heard 
 a little fluttering noije near her, and a beautiful wliite 
 pigeon came and settled on the window-sill close to her 
 When ^e lifted her head, it put its pretty head against her 
 soft dheek, and began to coo to her, so s6f tly and gently, tiiat 
 it seemed to soothe her sdrrow. 
 
 6. Presently it said (all in the bird§' language, you know 
 but somehow or other the little ^rl quite understood every 
 word), " Little girl, dear little girl, I am the pigeon whose egg 
 you spared that day Vhen you found my nest. 
 
 7. « I have come to tell you that last night, wliile I was 
 resting in the steeple of the Ohurdh of St. Agnes I heard thg 
 angelg whispering in the soft, still air. They said that, because 
 you were so kind and tender-hearted, and left me my one little 
 egg, our Dear Lord who rijles the world would leave you your 
 only little brother now, and he ^ould not die." 
 
 8. The pigeon cooed softly again, and the little girl kissed 
 It gently, and it flew away, into the silent night. Then ^e 
 turned to the bed, and saw that her little brother was sleeping 
 for the first time for many day§, calmly and peagefully, witti 
 a sweet smile upon hi§ fa^e, a§ if the augel§ had been wliispering 
 to him too, ° 
 
64 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 9. Perhaps it W9,§ so ; but, at all events, from that moment, 
 ho began to get well, and waj 8(5bn quite strong again ! The 
 little girl grew to be ii w^man and became a Sister of Mev-i^y ; and 
 ^r 6tten told the orphan dhildren this pretty fable,^ and never 
 eouid they forget tiie sweet v/hite pige6n and the angel's whisper. 
 
 i '! 
 
 .ii 
 
 m 
 
 II. 
 
 1^. THE BOY AMD THE CHILD JESUS. 
 
 AMONG green pleasant m<5a(low§, 
 £\. All in a grove so mild, 
 Wa§ set & marble image 
 
 Of the Virgin and the Child. 
 
 2. There 6ft, on summer evening§, 
 
 A lovely boy wouM rove, 
 To play beside the image 
 That sanetified the grove. 
 
 3. Oft sat hi§ mother by him, 
 
 Among the ^adow§ dim. 
 And told \\o^<f the Lord Je§u8 
 Wa§ ongo a dhild like him. 
 
 4. " And now from highest heaven 
 
 He doth Idbk down eadh day. 
 And see§ wliate'er thou dgdst, 
 And hear§ Vhat thou dost say." 
 
 6. Thus spake hig tender mother ; 
 And on an evening bright, 
 When the red round sun descended 
 'Mid eloudg of €rim§on light, — 
 
 6. Again the boy was playing ; 
 And earnestly said he, 
 "0, beautiful Lord Je§us, 
 Come down and play with me. 
 
 ' Pa'ble, & story not really tnie, or to enfonje & truth or a useful rule 
 
^■M 
 
 , useful rule 
 
 TIf£ BOY AND THE CHILD yESUS. 6. 
 
 7. " I will find thee flowor§ the fairest. 
 
 And weave for thee a crown ; 
 I will get thee ripe red strawberrieg 
 If thou wilt but €ome down. 
 
 8. " 0, holy, holy mother, 
 
 Pi^t him down from dflf thy knee ; 
 For in the§e silent raeadow§ 
 There are n6ne to play with me." 
 
 9. Thus spake the boy so lovely ; 
 
 The while hi§ mother heard ; 
 But on hi§ prayer i^o pondered, 
 And spake to him no word. 
 
 10. That self-same night i^e dreamed 
 
 A lovely dream of joy ; 
 She thought ^e saw young Je§us, 
 There playing with the boy. 
 
 11. "And for the fruits and flower§ 
 
 Whidli thou hast brought to me, 
 Ridh blessings i^all be given, 
 A {hou§and-fold to thee. 
 
 12. "For in the field? of heaven 
 
 Thou ^alt roam with me at will, 
 And of bnght fruits gelestial » 
 Shall have, dear dhild, thy fill." 
 
 13. Thus tenderly and kindly 
 
 The fair dhild Je§us spoke ; 
 And full of careful mu§ing§, 
 The anxious mother woke. 
 
 14' And thus it wa§ aeeompliifted : 
 In a ^ort m6n<h and a day. 
 That lovely boy, so gentle. 
 Upon hi§ death-bed lay. 
 
 Celestial (so iest-'yal), belonging to the spiritual heaven ; heavenly. 
 
ee 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Ik, !•■ I 
 
 16, And thus ho spoko in dying : 
 " O, mother dear 1 I see 
 The beautiful diild Je§u8 
 A-€oming down to me ; — 
 
 16. " And in hig hand he beAreih 
 
 Bright flower§ ag \<^ite as 8now,> 
 And red and juigy strawberries; 
 Dear mother, let me go." 
 
 17, He died— but that fond mother 
 
 Her s6rr5w did restrain ; 
 For rfho knew he wa§ with Jg§u8, 
 And tOie jisked him not again. 
 
 in. 
 
 IS, FIVE PJ^AS IJV THE SHELL, 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 FIVE PEAS sat in & pea-^ell. They wSro green, and the 
 ^ell wa§ green ; therefore,^ they thdught that the whole 
 world must be green; in wliidh opinion » they were about 
 right. The ^ell grew," and the pea§ grew too. They eould 
 accommodate * themselve§ vSry well to tiieir nftrrow house, and 
 sat very happily together, all five in a row. 
 
 2. The sun ^one outside and warmed the ^ell. The rain 
 made it so elear tiiat you eould see flirgugh it. It wa§ v6ry 
 warm and pleasant in there,— clear by day and dark by night, 
 Just as it ^ould be. The five pea§ grew v6ry fast," and became 
 more intelligent « the older they w6re. 
 
 8. "Shall I alway§ be compelled' to sit here?" said one to 
 the rest. " I really am afraid that I ^all g6fc hard from sitting? 
 constantly. I do believe strange things are going on outside ol 
 our i^ell a§ well a§ in here." 
 
 > Therefore (thfr'fOr), for that 
 or this rea§on. 
 
 * O pin'ion (-yun), view or belief 
 fonued from slight proof. 
 
 • Qrew (gro), see Rule 4, p. 24. 
 
 * Ac com'mo Uate, suit ; fit. 
 6 Fast (f&st), see Note 3, p. 16. 
 « In tSr li £,ant, knowing. 
 'OompSlled', obliged; tCr^ed; 
 «onstralne<l. 
 
FIVE PEAS IN THE SHELL. e7 
 
 J. Weeks pAa«ed on. and «io pen§ hocamo y^lMw, and die 
 ^he 1 grew yellow too. " All the world i? yellow ! " said thet 
 e"l:;Zr ^'^^^ ^^^-' -^- ^^^« 9ir'/un.tan,er?„r:;^- 
 e. Olio day ai«ir house w», e^^uck aa if bv linhtniiw ■«,„„ 
 JKicket Wiirfh w., iilready nearly filled with poL '■ N^w a^e 
 tiioy ijegan to feel very sorrowful. 
 - "'■ f"^"7,r ''''^' ' ^'•™''' 'i'"' «» hear from the one who 
 
 s all, sa,d tie smallest pea. But tiie largest one replied 
 "Come what will, lam ready." '" 'epiita, 
 
 H ''i ^'"i,?'' ' 7^" '*"" ''*"'' """1 "Jl five .■oiled Mit into 
 Hie bright siin^ine. Soon they lay in & little boy'j ha!^ H^ 
 h U them fM and said they would be excellent for his litHe 
 
 01 hi, sTiot-g un. Out again they went into ttie wide world. 
 
 *•„ l'^ ',"■" %'"f -H" into tte world. CiUSh me if you 
 *""• J"" """• ™''' ."'"1 '"= W9§ very soon out of sight. ^ 
 
 9. The second said, ■• I am going to "y up to Hie sun That 
 
 it? "Wherever we go we are going to bed/' said t ^o others • 
 
 ::'th?^rrnd'^^ ''"''' '' ' '-'-' ^^^"^ ^--' -^ -"^^^-n 
 
 one'" and iilfnlT- I' ""'k' .*' ^'^ '^ ^'^ H" said tiie last 
 w ndow o an 1 f "^' ^'""^' ^"^^ ^^^^^«* «^^' bakony» 
 m?«r Ti! , ^^f ' '^'^^ ^^"^^^ <^^^^« i» ^ little tuft of 
 
 of .1 r ' i^ ^^' ^''''" P'"^?^"' i* did not meet ttiO eye 
 
 it la^Ce " ' ""^^ "^'^ ^^ ^^«* ^^ -^ ^^>V' it saidi: 
 
 IS. A po-or woman « lived in a roDm back of the balcony win- 
 
 ' Circumstance (ser'kam stAns) 
 one of the thingg that surround us 
 m our piifh of life. 
 
 ' Bx'cia ma'tion, remark of nnin 
 anger, sUrprige, &c. ; out«ry. 
 
 * Put (put), placed. 
 <Roof(r9f). 
 
 " B«I' CO nf, a platform on the 
 
 J.,S..,., rrgiij f^i LJUliUillgg. 
 
 * Woman (wum' an). 
 
68 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 dow. She spent the whole day in making little toy§ of wdbd 
 and ^ell§, Vhidh wa§ h6r way of getting & little money. She 
 had a go"od strdng body, but nevertheless ^e wa§ d. v6ry poor 
 widow, and the prospect wa§ that ^e woi^ld always be one. 
 
 IJf. In that little room lived & half-grown, delicate* daugh- 
 ter. A whole year ^e had been lying there, and it seemed a§ 
 if ^e could neither live nor die. " She will soon go 6ff to see 
 her little sister ! " sighed the mother. " I had two dhildren, and 
 it was b, difficult 2 task for me to take cAre of them both. But 
 our Lord ha§ taken one of them to live witti Him. 
 
 15. '* I ^ould like to keep this one with me ; but it appear§ 
 a§ if G6d w^nts them both with Him. Soon lAe will go and 
 see h6r sister." But the sick girl still lived, and lay patiently ^ 
 on her sick bed, while her mother ivorked hard for her daily 
 bread. 
 
 IV. 
 
 14. FIVE PE4S IJY THE SHELL. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 BY AND BY spring-time came on. One morning, \<^en 
 the industrious * mother wa§ going about h6r work, the 
 friendly sun ^one fhrqugh the little window and all alOng tiie 
 little roof. 
 
 2. The sick girl Idbked down at the bottoL. of the window 
 and saw something growing. " What kind of a weed i§ that ? " 
 ^e askfc'l. "It i§ going to grow against' the windo*- See, 
 the wind 1^ shaking it." 
 
 S. And the mother came to the window and opened it & little. 
 "Just see ! " ^he exclaimed. ** This i§ a slender pea-vine. It is 
 now footing out its green leave§. How did it get into this 
 little crevi9e ?^ Soon wo ^all have a garden !" 
 
 4. Then tlie sick girl's bed wa§ moved closer to the window, 
 so that s^e could see the little climbing pea. Then her motner 
 went to work again.' 
 
 iiUil! 
 
 * rSr i cate, ni<je ; tender ; feeble. 
 •Dl[f'ficiUt,notea§y. 
 
 » Patiently (pa' ^gnt 1j), witihiout 
 «oinplaint or milrmfirinff^ 
 
 * In dfis' tri oils, given to wovk ; 
 
 not idle or lazy. 
 
 ^ Againbi. (& gSnst'), opposite to ; 
 abreast of ; facing. 
 
 ^ Criiv'ioe, & «rack. 
 
 ' A£;ain (i gfin'), on(;e mOre. 
 
FIVE PEAS TN THE SHELL. 
 
 09 
 
 6. Mother, I really believe I ^lall get w611 again," said the 
 dai^ghter one evening to her mother. « Tiie sun has been (bin) 
 Alining into the window so kindly to-day, and the pearvine is 
 growing so fast, tliat I believe I shall so'on be able to go'out into 
 the bright sun^ine." 
 
 6 ''GM grant it may be so!" said the mother- but «aie 
 did not believe it eould eome to pass. Then ^x tuck down 
 a little stick for the pea-vine to run on, and tied a string around 
 the vine to keep the wind from blowing it away. Ev^rv dav 
 it grew higher and larger. ^ 
 
 7. "Now it i§ almost ready to blossom," said the mother one 
 day a§ ^e went up to the window. *' I am beginning to think 
 my dear daughter will gdt well again." 
 
 8 She had noti9ed that h6r sick gTrl had b-en gettimr 
 stronger and more dheerfiil of late; ro. on the mornir^ 
 pea-vine blossomed she wa§ i)ropped up in her bed. '""*' 
 
 
ill 
 
 lit/". 
 
 70 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 9. The next week f(he wa§ able, for the first time in many 
 months, to gSt out of bed and take a few steps. How happy 
 ^e wa§ a§ ^e sat in the bright sun^ine, and looked at the 
 growing pea-vine I 
 
 10. The window wa§ oiien, and the morning breeze eame 
 s6ftly in. T^en the grateful girl leaned her head out of the 
 window and kissed h6r vine. That day was & happy hdliday to 
 her — a day never to be forg6tt«n. 
 
 11. " G5d, my dear dhild, hag planted that little flowering 
 pea here for yQU, and also to bring hope and joy to my heart." 
 So spoke the mother,— and trvily too. 
 
 12. Now, what beeame of the otiier pea§ ? The one Whidh 
 flew out into the wide world, and said, a§ he passed, " Catdi me 
 if you ean," fell into the gutter beside the street, and wa§ swg,!- 
 lowed by a dove. 
 
 13. The two Whidh went fifl togetiier f Ared no better, for they 
 were both devoured * by hungry pige6n§. The fourth pea,whidh 
 went 6ff toward the sun, did not g6t half-way th^re, but fell into 
 a water-spout, and lay there for weeks growing larger all the time. 
 
 U. "I am getting so €6rpulent,"' it said one day, *' I ^all 
 soon bArst, I am afraid, and that will 96rtainly be the last of 
 me." And the dhimney, who afterward wrote hi§ epitaph," told 
 me a few days ago that he did burst. So ttiat was the last of him. 
 
 16. But the sick girl stoM one day, witti ';/ '?ht eye§ and red 
 dheeVs, at her mother's window, ai:d, folding her hand§ over 
 the beautiful pea-vine, Ae thanked G6d for His goodness. 
 
 IS. THE CLOUD. 
 
 ONE hot summer m6rning a little eloud ro§e out of the 
 sea, and glided lightly, like & playful dhild, thrgugh the 
 blue sky and over tiie wide earth \^idh lay pardhed and lan- 
 gui^ing * from the 16ng drought." 
 
 ' De voiired', eaten greedily. 
 » O&r'pu lent, fle^y ; fat. 
 ' Bp'i taph, k riting on k mon- 
 ument in memory of tne dead. 
 « Languishing (l&ng'gwiA ing), 
 
 pining; suflFerlng, as frow heat or 
 dryness. 
 
 * Drought (drout), w^nt of rain or 
 or v'ater ; a ISiig coat 
 weatJier. 
 
 
THE CLOUD. 
 
 71 
 
 2. A§ the little eloud sailed aldng, ^e saw far beneath ^ her 
 the poor laborer^ toiling2 in the swgat of their brow§, While ^he 
 wa§ wafted al6ng by the light breath of the morning, free from 
 cdre and toil. 
 
 S. "Ah I "said ^e, "€ould I but do something to lighten 
 tiie labor§ of tho§e poor men upon the fiarth, drive away their 
 €aref,^give refrg^ment to the thirsty s and fo'od to ttie hun- 
 gry ! " And the day went on, and the €loud grew bigger and 
 bigger; and a§ ^e grew, her de§ire to devote her life to man- 
 kmd grew likewise strfinger. 
 
 4- But on the garth the heat waxed * more intense ; « the sun's 
 riiys bArned like fire, till the wearied laborer^ nearly fainted in 
 the field§; and y6t they worked on and on, for tliey were vgry 
 po-or. From time to time they east a piteous* Idbk up ut i^xe 
 eloud, a§ muv^i a§ to say, "Ah, that you would help us I" 
 
 5. «I will help ygu," said the eloud ; and ^e began to sir V 
 gently down. But presently ^e remembered what she had 
 on9e hSard' when a little dhild, in the depths of the sea, that, 
 if a €loud venture^ too near the earth, ^e die§. 
 ^. For awhile ^e wavered, and wa§ driven hither and 
 thither by her fhdughts; but at length ^e stood still, and, with 
 all the glftdu^ss of a good resolution, ^e eried, ''Ve weary men 
 who are toiling on the earth, I will help you /" 
 
 7. Filled with this thdught, the eloud suddenly expanded to 
 agiga,nti€8 si25e. She had never imagined herself capable of 
 sudh greatness. Like an angel of blessing ^e sto^od above the 
 earth, and spread her wing§ over the pardhed field§; and her 
 form beeame so glorious, so awful, that ^e filled man and 
 beast with fear, and the tree§, and «ie grass bent before her, 
 while yet they all well knew tJjiit .<he wa§ their benefaetress.^ 
 8. «Ay;W i ^ill help yQu," said (sed) the eloud again; 
 
 ' Be neath', lower iu plage, rank, 
 or worth ; under. 
 
 *Toil'ing, laboring painfully and 
 wearily; over-laboring. 
 
 'Thirsty (fhersf i), suffering 
 from want of drink. 
 
 '^•%a>i-^^A T 1 =.__ 
 
 ', '-"-rcaiUK ; g:n!W. 
 
 "In t^nse', fierce ; very great. 
 
 « Pit'e oils, fitted to Awaken pity ; 
 sorrowful. 
 
 ' Heard (herd). 
 
 8 0l gSn'tio, hu^e; very large. 
 
 «B«n'eac'tres8, & female who 
 €onfer8 & benefit or d6eg good, es- 
 pecially for charity. 
 
 "Ay (ai), yes. 
 
79 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH FEADER. 
 
 
 I 
 
 * receive me— I die for you ! " The energy * of a mighty pAr- 
 pose thrilled thrgugh her; 4 brilliant fla^ gleamed aerdss her, 
 and the thunder roared. 
 
 9. Str6ng wa§ that will, and stronger still the love, p^ne- 
 tratisd 2 by Whidh ^e fell, and di§§olved in a ^ower that ^ed 
 bb8sing§ on the earth. The rain wa§ her work; the rain was 
 also her death, and the aet wa§ glorious. 
 
 10. Far over the land, a§ wide a§ the rain extended, k bril- 
 liant bow wa§ bent, formed of the purest ray§ of tho upper 
 h6aven§; it was the last greeting of that self-saerificing spirit 
 of love. The rainbow vani^ed, but the blessing of the eloud 
 Idng rested upon the land Whidh Ae had watered. 
 
 VI. 
 
 16. THj^ POET'S SOJVG. 
 
 THE TAIN had fftTlen; the Poet ar6§e— 
 He passed by the town and out of ttit street ; 
 A light wind lAew from the gates of the sun. 
 And wave§ of ^&d6w went over tiie Wheat, 
 And he sat him dw? n in a lonely pla9e. 
 
 And dhanted a melody loud and sweet. 
 That made the wild swan pau§e in her eloud. 
 And the lark drop down at hi§ feet. 
 
 2. The swallow stdpped a§ he hunted the bee ; 
 
 The snake slipped under a spray ; 
 The wild hawk stood with the down on hi| beak. 
 
 And stAred, with hi§ foot on the prey ; 
 And the nightingale thought, " I have sung many s6ng§. 
 
 But never a one so gay. 
 For he sing§ of Vhat the world will be 
 
 When the year§ have died away.'' 
 
 1 Bn'er if, strength ; for<^. 
 
 * F6n' e tra ted, entered into ; 
 
 eflf eeted an entrance into ; toudhed 
 with feeling. 
 
MOUNTAIN OP THE HOLY CROSS. 7$ 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 I. 
 
 17. MOUJ^TAIM OF THE HOLY CROSS. 
 
 y^N a spAr i of the Rocky Mountarng which divides the Col- 
 
 \-J orado 2 district into nearly equal parts, and about one 
 
 iiundred miles west of Denver city, rises a peak to the h.I^At of 
 
 thirteen thousand three hundred feet above the level of the sea. 
 
 . ^ "^^^^ ""^ *^® immense grandeurs^ of this mountain 
 
 mnge stands this one peaJ., high above all that surround it, in 
 
 the majesty which beldngs to the everlasting hills. 
 
 3. The glory of the morning and of the evening, the splen- 
 dors of sunnse ai..d sunset, the awful gloom of coming tempts, 
 the h6rror of the f6rked lightoing, the crash of the roWng 
 thunder, and the sun-burst of the clearing shower, with ii« rain- 
 bow of peace, give such varied aspects to this Idfty summit,^ that 
 It charms the eye of the traveler from whatever ^int it is seen. 
 
 4. But If his way lead aldng the torrent at the foot of the 
 mountain a new wonder claims his attention and holds his 
 gaze, until he breaks forth into exclamations of delight, con- 
 trolled only by a deep feeling of awe. 
 
 ^. At a distance of from fifty to one hundred miles, this mar- 
 vel becomes visible ; though so indistinctly that the traveler 
 might imagine himself deceived by the subtile « air of these 
 high regions. But no ! hour after hour as he rides, the vision, 
 tor such it at first seems, becomes clearer and clearer, and 
 Changes at last into an impressive real'ity 
 
 ^. Thousands of feet above tlie road over which his mule is 
 Slowly tolling, impressed on the almost vertical « face of the 
 mountain, stretches a crdssi A cross of such gigantic propor- 
 tions that the hand of the Creator alone could have traced its 
 outline, and so deeply cut into the rugged rock that one of 
 
 ' Spur (spflr), a mountain that 
 Bhoots from the side of another 
 mountain. 
 
 * Colorado {eo\> o ra' do). 
 
 • Wrandeurs (grand' yiira). 
 
 Siim' mit, hight st peak ; the top. 
 Sfib' tile, not dense or gross • 
 rare ; thin. 
 
 6 TTa-r' ♦• nal yjy-X-il 1 I 
 
 plumb; upright 
 
7Jt 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 I 
 
 1111 
 
 those convulsions of nature by which He claims the universe as 
 His own, must have torn open the mighty fissures ^ that portray * 
 it to the world. 
 
 7. This cr6s8 is defined in ghttering whiteness on the dark 
 and rugged summit, by a vertical fissure fifteen hundred feet in 
 length, crdssed by another of no less than nine hundred feet 
 The heavy snows of the Colorado region, though sliding dflf the 
 steep plane ^ of the surrounding rock, have accumulated * in 
 these mighty chasms, and are so protected by their immense 
 depth, ijnd the rdre atmosphere of those 16fty heights, that the 
 heats of summer have no power to melt them. 
 
 8. With a feeling as profound as that with which Constantine 
 beheld in the heavens the sign of the Son of Man, must the 
 traveler in America contemplate ^ this mark of G6d set on the 
 ihxeMa^ of the country ; the country, which is thus, as it were, 
 signed and sealed like the mystical ^ elect named by St. John in 
 the Apocalypse.' 
 
 9. May it not indicate Hhat North America is to stand forth 
 as the champion 9 elected by Christ for the defence of His 
 cause ? Oh ! if this w6re our country's glorious destiny, the 
 honors of dominion and wealth that now fill the n&tional heart, 
 would pale and fade as before a vision of heaven. 
 
 10. ThrQughout the whole extent of our continent, islands, 
 bays, rivers show forth by their names the faith of their Catho- 
 lic discoverers and Catholic settlers. But here the sign and 
 source of that Holy Faith, whence alone flows all the joy of 
 heaven or 6arth, is exalted ^^ by the hand of Nature itself, and 
 gives its name of consolation to this grand watch-tower of the 
 New World, 
 
 The Mountain of the Holt Cross. 
 
 » Fissures (fish' ure§), open and 
 wide cracks. 
 
 * P5r tray', paint or draw the 
 likeness of ; draw fOrth. 
 
 ' Plane, a flat, even surface. 
 
 * Ac cu' mu lat ed, heaped up in 
 
 a mass. 
 
 ^ Qon' tsni nlsts. to look at in 9.11 
 bearings, or on all sides ; study. 
 
 « M^s' tic al, far from man's un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 ' A pSc' a l^se, revelation ; the 
 name given to the l&st bdok in the 
 New Testament. 
 
 * In' di rate, point out ; show. 
 
 • Cham' pi on, one who contends 
 in behMTf of a principle or person. 
 
 10 Qx alt' ed, raised on high. 
 
iverse as 
 
 man s un- 
 
 Tm CROSS OP COmTANTWE. U 
 
 II. 
 18. THE CROSS OF COJ\rSTAJ\rTIJSr]S 
 
 VwL^'rl l^' '^ '^' ^'^"'^"° '''^ *^« Emperor of the 
 
 1 West constant ne, yet a pagan, wag on his march to 
 
 Rome to attack the tyrant Maxen'tius, who/with the emperors 
 
 J. The forces of Constantine were far inferior to those of his 
 adversanes,^ whose armies were composed of veteran troops C 
 mured 3 to wax- and flushed^ witix victory. In thirfainfu! 
 cr.ois, C(. stantme remembered tliat the emperors who, in his 
 time had most zeal for idolatry, had perished miserably ; while 
 his fati.er Constantins Chlorus (klo' rus). who, though^hi^s 1? 
 
 maZof th n''-'"' *1" "^'"^'^^"^^ ^^ received%ensible» 
 maiks of the Diviiu- protection. Therefore he resolved .o ad- 
 dress his pr.4vers for help to Him whom the Christians wor- 
 shipped, the one Onh .<5d of heaven and earth. 
 
 3. While marnhing in the midst of his troops, and revolving' 
 these things m his mind with all earnestness, a cr5ss of light, 
 bnghter than the blazing noon-day sun, appeared in the cloud- 
 nf I'^l''^'' f^'^]^S in glory resplendent, and above it, in 
 Greek characters, the words, « By this coif queb " 
 
 i The whole army beheld, and were filled with amazement.' 
 Constantine, troubled and anxious, passed a sleepless night. 
 Ashelay on his couch, pondering 8 on this prodigy,nhe l5)rd 
 Jesus Himse^ appeared to him, and bMe him take the mirftc'u- 
 ous sign he had seen in the heavens as his standard, for under 
 tnat sign he should triumph over all his enemies. 
 ^. This standard is the famous Lab'arum. It is described by 
 the historian Euse'bius, who saw it himself, and who also had 
 trom the Jips^ Co nstantine, confirmed ^ by oafh, an exact 
 
 nr «tt*^/' * ««°^Wnati^n of princes rTmaze' ment, extreme eur- 
 or^states for mutual assistance. prise at what is not underi 
 
 » ^ firT^' '^ "^l *° opponent. * PSn' der ing, applying the mind 
 
 ^ TlZti T Tf = '•'"*'"^- *" * ^'^^J^^ ^^ ^Sng and careful 
 6 S f ' ^^^^'^^^'l ; excited. attention. 
 
 6 1>- ..v7, . °^^! a t^ing fitted to astonish. 
 
 thinkW :;;, "^' '"^"^^ '^'^•' '"Confirmed'. strengthened; 
 *' ^'- rendered certain. 
 
76 
 
 DOMINION FOunril READER. 
 
 account of the miriiculoiis events which led him to adopt the 
 Crdss as his standard. 
 
 6. It consisted of a spear of extra6r'dlnary length, overlaid 
 with gold, athwa.. which wa§ laid a piece in fashion of a Cross. 
 Upon its top was lixed a crown composed of gold and precious 
 stones, and insCrted' in the crown was the monogram' or sym- 
 bol of the Saving Name, viz. : two Greek letters expressive of the 
 f Ig'ure of the Cross, and being also the initial » letters of the 
 name of Christ 
 
 7. From the cross-piece hung a banner of pftrplo tissue, in 
 length exactly eciual to its breadth. On its upper portion were 
 embroidered in gold and in colors the portrait of the emperor, 
 and those also of his children. The banner was thickly studded 
 with precicus stones and interwoven with much gold, presenting 
 a spectacle * of inexpressible beauty. 
 
 8. Tliis standard was intrusted to the keeping of fifty of the 
 bravest and noblest of the imperial » guard-, whose duty it was 
 to surround and defend it 'on the field of battle; and this post 
 was regarded as the highest possible in honor and dignity. 
 Constantino also caused the sacred monogram to be embla- 
 zoned « on his own helmet, and on the bucklers, helmets, and 
 arms of his legions. 
 
 9. On the morning of the great battle, when tne first rays of 
 the October sun gleamed from the myste'rious emblem, the sol- 
 diers of the Lab'arum felt themselves animated with an irresist- 
 ible ardor. Wherever the sacred &l{jn appeared, the enemy gave 
 way before the numerically' inferior soldiers of the Cross. 
 
 10. Therefore Constantino ordered the saving trophy ^ to be 
 carried wherever he saw his troops exposed to the greatest dan- 
 ger, and thus victory was secured. The result was most decisive ; 
 for those of tue enemy who escaped on the field of battle were 
 drowned in the Tiber. 
 
 ' In serf ed, Bet within some- 
 thing. 
 
 ' M6n' o gram, two or more let- 
 ters blended into one. 
 
 » In X' tial, commencing ; the first 
 letter of a word. 
 
 noteworthy fact. 
 
 ^ Im pe' ri al, belonging to an 
 empire or an emperor. 
 
 « Em bla' zon, to adorn ; to set 
 6ff ^vith ornament. 
 
 ' Nu mSr* i cal ly, with respect 
 to numbers. 
 
 8 frS' chv. Bouiethinij ths^t is evi 
 dence of victory. 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 77 
 
 11. Maxen tius had thrown a^rdss that riyer a bridgo of bOats 
 so contmed as to bo pulled to pieces by means of machinery 
 managed by engmecrs^ stationed for the purpose on the oppi 
 site shore The tyrant thought thus to take his riyal kTa 
 snare. But he fell into the trap he liad laid for another ; for as 
 he wa. rctreatmg with his guards over the bridge so cunningly 
 dev.ged,'' i\,o boats separated from each other, and himself and 
 all who were with him perished in the turbid 8 waters. 
 
 12 Constantino, in his manifesto - to the people of the East, 
 alludes to the miracle of the Cross as a well-known fact. Ad- 
 dressing himself to our Lord, he says: "By Thy guidance and 
 assistance, I have undertaken and accomplished salutary thinffs. 
 Everywhere carrying before me Thy sign, I have led my army 
 
 IS. The wonderful events hero related are beyond doubt. 
 They led to the conversion of Constantino, who was baptized 
 soon afterward, and is known as the first Christian emperor. 
 
 III. 
 19, THE PIOJ^'EERS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 A MISSIONARY wa§ traveling through the bleakest part of 
 
 11 „ ■'^•' ^^"^ ^^ ""^ ^""^^ ^^^^ ^^'''^* might be caJled « un- 
 lucky m his choice of roads, frequently losing his way, until 
 both himsel^f and his poor beaafc seemed about giving up in utter 
 
 2. It w^j only by the help of the Health of the Side, ' whom 
 he so confidently inyoked,8 that the holy priest was now pro- 
 ceedmg. His well-worn beads were 6ften pressed to his lips and 
 heart, his strength being too far gdiie !« allow him to repeat the 
 prayers that had beguiled and sanetified many a journey 
 
 tliat ia evl 
 
 Bn gl neers', persons ekilled in 
 the principles of mathematics and 
 mechanics and their application. 
 
 '' De vise', to plan or scheme for. 
 
 = Tur' bid, muddy ; thick. 
 
 * MSn' i ftg' t6, a public declara- 
 tion of a prince or ruler. 
 
 » Al IMes'. rsffiT- *-. 
 
 Exhaustion (egz hast' yQn), the 
 condition of being emptied complete- 
 ly, or deprived of means, strength, 
 or spirits. 
 
 "< Health of the Sick, one of the 
 titles by which our Lady is invoked 
 in the Litany. 
 
 - |n vokttd', addressed in priiyer. 
 
7^ 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ^Ip 
 
 S. He wa§ in tbe timber land§ now, and thdugh tbe dhange 
 from What seemed an endless prairie bad at first been welcome, 
 the ^adow§ were falling oppressively on hi§ mind, While a 
 deeper languor stole over hi§ exhausted frame. 
 
 J^. What i5 it that so suddenly €au§e§ the drooping form to 
 sit erect, and send§ a gleam of joyous surprise to the heavy 
 eyeg? It haj been* day§ sin9e he lo'oked upon a human fa9e, 
 but welcome a§ the sight would be, it could not call up that 
 look. Ah, no! The missionary had seen wTiat to him i§ u 
 dearer sight than the most inviting habitation could be even at 
 that moment ;— a grave, over wliidh stands sentinel ^ k great 
 crfiss, with a long rosary twined abwifc it. 
 
 5. Here in the wild f6rest he had found the emblems of Je§us 
 and Mary. The next moment he wa§ prostrate before them, 
 witJi a feeling of quiet rest steaUng over body and soul. With 
 the whispered ''Requiem''^ for the Christian slumbering there, 
 still on his lips, he fell Meep. 
 
 6. Awaking with a strange feeling of renewed vigor and hope, 
 
 « R8' qui em, & prayer for tiie 
 
 1 Been (bin). 
 
 * S^n' ti neli on ^'lard.! 
 
 souls in piligatory. 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 79 
 
 his wandering gl&nce fell on the Cr6ss and Beads, and, though 
 not given to dreaming, he naturally began to marvel how they 
 came there. But he soon aroused himself from the spell of idle 
 thought and luxurious ease, to dflfer to the Queen of the Bosary 
 most fervent supplications for the one buried there, who had 
 evidently been devoted to her. 
 
 7. This done, he arose and turned to his hoi-se, which was 
 contentedly grazing near by, when he became aware that he 
 was not alone. Several little children sat on the ground at a safe 
 distance, watching hun intently. As the good priest, with a 
 smile and a blessing on his lips, advanced to them, they fled 
 before him toward a cabin which he now descried ^ (hrQugh the 
 spreading trees. 
 
 8. A woman camo to the door as the children rushed hastily 
 in, and casting an anxious glance around, beheld tho invader of 
 her fdrest domain. With a cry of joy she fell on her knees, 
 bending her head for the blessing which was heartily given ; 
 then, while shaking the missionary's hand with both hers, in 
 eager welcome, she looked about for the mnaways. « And so ye 
 scampered away at fint sight of the priest, God bless himi " she 
 cried merrily. « then its heathens ye are, syn" enough, not 
 to know his Reverence." 
 
 9. Saying this she led her welcome guest into the dwelling— a 
 poor and rough one indeed, but neat and homelike as woman's 
 cdre and taste could make it, and ornamented with a erugifix 
 and several pious prints, to say n6£hing of strings of beads 
 hanging on various parts of the wall, which were most beautiful 
 in the missionary's eyes, as home-made rosaries, plainly appro- 
 priated by each member of the household. 
 
 10. His hostess having seen him seated at ease, and given 
 him a dor. n welcomes and blessings for having come, went 
 to the doo. and blew a loud summons thrgugh a horn, that 
 quickly brought a pretty group to her side, boys and gu:ls, 
 healthy and happy-looking, whom she marshalled 2 in due order, 
 and led forward. The holy priest thought he had never seen a 
 lovelier sight, as, following their mother's example, they aU 
 knelt together for his blessing. 
 
 T^A n^vM,r,Jkt Ai^ 3 
 
 * max' Boaiidd, arnui^^. 
 
80 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 11. He Btdbd up, and gave it solemnly to each child in turn. 
 The mother too had arisen, and with a little mellow laugh at 
 the l&pt, while tears of emotion rolled down her cheeks, she 
 said : " S\}re your Reverence does well to give the blessing strong 
 in this poor family ;—tL-.i of us, and never a Christian among the 
 lot but myself." 
 
 12. The priest, recalling her words to the children at his en- 
 trance, looked at her for an explanation, but already she had 
 tiirned aside, " on hds'pitablo thoughts intent," givinj brief 
 directions to the oldest boy, who immediately went off to attend 
 to the horse, and to the two oldest girls, who disappeared with 
 her. The half a dozen who remained were soon at their ease 
 with the good Father. Their manners had a singular attraction 
 for him, being at once frank ^ and shy,' artless and yet with a 
 certain reserve ; and their 3,n8tcer§ to his questions interested 
 while ^^hey puzzled him. 
 
 13. At the bountiful repast which was soon spread before him, 
 he alluded ^ to one of thes9 puzzles, saying he had &8ked the 
 names of his young entertainers, but they had not gratified his 
 curiosity. The mother replied laughingly that it would bother 
 them to go thrQu 'a that ceremony, easy as his Reverence 
 thought it; b'lt a sudden quivering in her voice betoked emo- 
 tion that she hastily thrust aside by pressing her guesi to par- 
 take of the several dishes before him, with many an apology 
 that they were no better. After the meal waa over, explana- 
 tions came. 
 
 IV. 
 
 20, THE PIOJVELES. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 BERNARD TRACY and Ellen had come out to AmCricA 
 immediately after th^ir marriage, witii the intention of 
 settling in the Southwest. At New Or leans they fell in with 
 a sharper * who soon contrived to g6t their little fund in ex- 
 change for " a splendid property " he had in Texas. With a 
 poor team procured for them at a town to which he was travel- 
 ing, they started for their new home ; but, after journeying on 
 
 ' FrSnk, open ; truthful. 
 
 * BhS; easily frightened ; timid. 
 
 ^ Al In' ded, hinted at ; mentioned. 
 * Sharp' er, a swindler ; a cheat. 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 HI 
 
 and on till they got complet^^ly Idst in the wild, Bernard found 
 he had been deceived. 
 
 ,9. Ono of fho horses had already died; \,ao other was too 
 much i *-ol.\3n down to go any further. So Bernard halted, in 
 tliQ J ane * . Odd, and set aboi t making the home he had hoped 
 to fli hey were a young and energetic couple, fuU of that 
 
 trpe pi hich works on oiieerilj, trusting results t God. 
 
 Thpy harf bome provisions with them, wild ^amo and fish were 
 easily y '■ red, and on the whSle it was a romantic episode* 
 in lilc. 
 
 ?. They had but two sources of regret. With the social 
 Tnstinets of their race, they disliked their isolated » location : 
 still they hopi 1 it would not be a solitude v6ry 16ng; others 
 would surely find the way thither, and it was a fine place for a 
 young colony. They felt much more keenly their deprivation 
 of the Church blessings and privileges ; but this, too, would soon 
 be altered ; some of the future settlers would certainly be Cath- 
 olics, and no douJt G6d would send a saintly missionary that 
 way in answer to th6ir prayers. 
 
 i Thus the simple-minded. God-fearing pAir ^oped and 
 trusted, as year followed year. They were too l,x from the 
 regions of civilization to think of returning; and as a little 
 family grew up around them, such an undertaking became more 
 and more impracticable. The hoped-for settlers never came, 
 neither wCre their hearts ever glai' ened by the sight of a mis- 
 sionary. A stray Indian, now and then, was their only visitor. 
 
 5. Hope became more grave and earnest, but never deserted 
 them. They kept Sundayb and holy days as sacredly as if they 
 were in the heart of faithful Erin :» fasts and abstinences were 
 t :ver omitted ; our Lady was honored, and invoked under 
 every title by which they had ever heard her named ; saints and 
 ungels heard their praise?^ and watched over the two Christians 
 in the depth of the "hoatlien wilderness," as poor Ellen always 
 called it. 
 
 e. And her children were hOathens as well as their birthplace. 
 Both father a nd mother solemnly agreed that no hand hut the 
 
 ' Bp' i sode, an incident not ne- » Is' o lat' ed, lonely ; standing 
 cessarily connected with what haa by itself, 
 gone before it. » E' rin. Ireland. 
 
82 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 : I 
 
 pnf 8 should pour the w^ter of regen'era'tion on those littlo 
 heads, save death w^q actually at the door. They brought them 
 up as eatchBhu'mens,^ expecting Baptism, whcu the minister of 
 God would come. All had their rudely-fashioned beads, which 
 they said together daily for this blessing. 
 
 7. Tlie last act of Bernard wm to carve the beads for the 
 baby who was beginning to take notice, the ninth human bios- 
 som of the wilderness. On Saturday, at the sunset hour- 
 Mary sown day and hour they loved to call it^he hung the 
 beads round baby's neck, hugging her to his great fatherly 
 heart, with love and pride and gratitude, as he saw her joy over 
 her new possession. "^ 
 
 S. At that same hear on the foUowing Saturday his widow 
 and orphans knelt around the grave they had made in his favor- 
 Yte spot, and with sobs rather than wo:-ds s^iid the beads for poor 
 fathers soul. Henceforth that spot became their house of 
 prayer whore daily their petitions were breathed to Jesus and 
 Maty for a priest. « And now they were answered-the priest 
 bad come, glory forever be 'to God ! " 
 
 9. The missionary's tears mingled wiih the mother's as she 
 gave him :ho particulars of this little histOiy. With what iov 
 he sa'4 Mass the next day in that humble cabin, protected by 
 guardian angels, giving to the faithful Christian matron, who 
 had so long hungered for it, the Bread of Tate ! With what joy 
 he baptized that pretty group, the t>- -gntful, industrious boy 
 of tS"""' "^ P"''^"'"*''^^^ ^"^ guileless as the Uttle prattler 
 
 /a Ere he quitted that abode the four eldest made their 
 F-.rst Communion. With the tender feelings and inventive taste 
 of a pnest of God, he had erected, the altar for this tr^lv festive 
 occasion on a little elevation near the father's grave, beautifying 
 it^^ much as was possible. Thus had the pmyer of fai.h been 
 
 n. Several years afterward, when the good priest took an 
 opportunity of revisiting the cabin, he found that it h^id neigh- 
 boi^ A little settlement wm growing up at last How many 
 such stones might be told of fdrest days in Nortli America ! 
 
 ' 0«t' e cW men, one preparmg for Christian Baptism. 
 
THE STORK OF STRASBOURG. 
 
 83 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 / '' I. 
 
 21. THE STORK OF STJMSBOUEG. 
 
 WHEN travelers in Europe wish to go from Paris to 
 Switzerland or back again, they dften take the rdute^ 
 which passes thrfiugh the city of Strasbourg, in order to visit 
 the great cathedral there. 
 
 2. If you should take a walk or drive fhrgugh the streets of 
 Strasbourg, and should chance to lo'ok up to the curious roofs 
 of the houses, witii th6ir four or five rows of odd, eye-shaped 
 wrndows projecting from them, you would notice that many 
 of tlie chimneys were covered on the top with a sort of bed- 
 ding of straw, and perhaps upon this you would see a great 
 bird, with a long bill and a short tail, mounted on two long, 
 thin legs. He would be standing so very still that you would' 
 think it must be one of the curious ornaments that the people 
 in Europe put upon their houses. 
 
 5. But if you look long enough, you will see him stretch out 
 a pAir of en6rmoi.'s^ wings, throw back his head upon his body, 
 and rise slowly and majestically s into the dir; he would not fly 
 very far, however, but, alighting in the street where there has 
 been a market, seize a fish that has been thrown into the gut- 
 ter, and fly back with it to his nest. This is the famous stdrk, 
 —a bird which is common in Europe, especially in the large 
 cities, being fond of the society of man. 
 
 4. The •rtork is a bird of most dxcelleut character. He is a 
 pattern of go1)dnc'Ss to his pdrents, and to his children. He 
 never forgets a kindness, and is so useful that the people in 
 Holland make false chimneys to their houses, so that .he storks 
 may find places enough for their nests; and in German cities 
 they put a kind of framework upon their chimneys, so that the 
 storks may find it more convenient. 
 
 5. Once, in Strasbourg, a chimney tdbk fire. Upon this chim- 
 
 ' Route (rQt), a cOurse or way. or size ; greater than common. 
 
 ' E nor' mo-as, differing from, or s Ma j«s' tic al ly, with dignity ; 
 exceeding the common rule, form, with a 16ft^ air or appearance. 
 
r 
 
 84 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ! 1 
 
 ney was a nest, in which were four young storks not yet able to 
 fly. Think of the despdir* of the stork-mother as the smoke 
 (<3nv61oped he i oor little ones, and the heat threatened to roast 
 them alive ! They were too young for her to carry them away 
 in her beak, — that would straugle them ; and to throw them 
 out of their nest would only break their little necks. 
 
 6. The mother's instinct 2 taught her what to do. She flew 
 bjxk and forth over the nest, flapping her great wings over it, 
 and so making a current of air in which the young could 
 breathe. But alas 1 a great quantity of sdbt all on fire began to 
 fall, and now they must certainly be bArnt jlllve. 
 
 7. No ! the good mother extended her great wings over the 
 nest, and allowed the burnirg soot to fall upon herself. It had 
 burnt one wing nearly away when the people below came with 
 ladders, and saved the nest and the four little birds and the 
 good mother. They took cdre of her, but she was always 
 infirm ; she could fly no more, and for many years she u§ed to 
 go round from house to house, and the people would feed her. 
 
 8. The storks always spend the winter in Africa, and always 
 make their journeys in the iMght. When the time comes for 
 them to go, they all assemble together and choose a leader. 
 Such a chattering as they make ! No doubt they have a great 
 deal of trouble in getting every thing settled ; they mal.e all 
 their talk with their jaws, which sound like castanets.^ They 
 always go at the same time every year, and return to their 
 chimney nests when the winter is over. 
 
 9. One well-bred stork, that had made his nest in the same 
 chimney for many years, used to come and walk up and down 
 before the door of the house where his nest was, the morning 
 after his return, clattering his bill, 5?^ much as to say, " Good 
 morning, sir : you see I am here again." And in the autumn, 
 just before he went away, he would come and do the same 
 again, to bid good-bye, and the master would come out and say, 
 " Good-bye: a pleasant journey to jqu." 
 
 ' De spair', the lose of all hope. 
 
 * In' stinct, inward impQlse ; the 
 natural, unreagoning impulse in an 
 animal by which it is guided to the 
 performance c* any action. 
 
 ^ 05s' ta nSt, an instrument com- 
 posed of small, rounded shells of 
 ivory or hard wood, shaped like 
 sp(5&ns, fa^^tened to the thumb, and 
 beaten with the middle finder. 
 
THE STORK OF STRASBOURG. 
 
 86 
 
 10. Th^re is a little story tiat is told to illus'trate* the 
 gratitude of the stdrk. Once a ngughty boy threw a stone at a 
 stork and broke its leg. It got into its nest and th^re lay. 
 The women of the house fed it, set its leg, and cured it, so that 
 it was able, at the proper season, to fly away with the rest. 
 
 11. Next spring the bird, which was rgc'ognized by the women 
 by its pecu'liar gait, retimed ; and when they came near it, 
 the lame creature dropped gratefully at their feet from its bill 
 the finest diamond it had been able to pick up in its travels. 
 It u§ed to be said that they were in the habit of throwing 
 down one of their young to their landlord before they left their 
 nests, as a kind of rent. That w^§ carrying g:-atitude a little 
 too far, I think — don't you ? 
 
 12. One rea§on why the storks are so welcome in large cities 
 is, that they are very useful in eating up all the refuse that is 
 thrown into the streets. In Europe 'an cities, two or three times 
 in the week, the farmers, and fishermen, and butchers, in the 
 country round, bring their produce 2 into tho city in carts, where 
 it is displayed in tempting order ; and then their wives and 
 daughters, in curious caps and dresses, sell it to the city people. 
 
 13. The market is over by noon, and then the market-place 
 i:. covered with the storks, who clean it all up, i*nd carry away 
 all that has been dropped. They are particularly lond of fish 
 and serpents, and eels and frogs are considered a oreat dericatjy 
 by them. They are so valuable, that, in some places, to kill 
 them used to be considered a crime, punislied with deetb, ana 
 they have even been worshiped, like the ibis ^ in Egypt. 
 
 U. There is a gigantic stork, a native of Bengal,* whic'. u 
 called the Adjutant/ because from a distance it looks like a man 
 with a V hite waistcoat and trousers. O^ie of these great \ii.ds 
 w .s brou^lit to London, and lived over seventy years ir the 
 iligeat't Park. It is from under the wings o^' this van -' '■ that 
 the vi).:>% downy feathers, called mftr'abgu', come. 
 
 ' H lils'trate, to set in a clear 
 light or make plain. 
 
 ' ;*r6d' uce, fruits, fowls, vegeta- 
 bl*"8, &c., .aised on a farm. 
 
 " I' jis, a species of crane having 
 Vire head and neck, white plaumge. 
 
 and black wing and tail feat !iers. 
 
 ^Bengal (bengftl'V u province 
 of Brtish India. 
 
 * Ad' ju tant, a miiit-ary ofBcer. 
 
 *■ Va ri' o ty, one of a number of 
 things akin or reiftt .' to one another. 
 
 m ■'•iA 
 
 l^^^^l 
 
.^6' 
 
 Dominion fourth rmader. 
 
 II. 
 
 m 
 
 liii 
 
 \H 
 
 22, THE BAREFOOT BOY. 
 
 BLESSINGS on thee, little man, 
 Barefoot ^ boy, with dheeks of tan I 
 With thy turned-np pantaloong, 
 And thy mfirry Whistled tune§ ; 
 With thy red lip, redder still 
 Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; 
 With tiie sun^ine on thy fa9e, 
 Thrftugh thy torn brim^§ jaunty ^ gra^e : 
 From my heart I give thee joy ; — 
 I was 01190 a barefoot boy I 
 
 2. Let the milHon-dollared ride — 
 Barefoot, trudging ^ at his side. 
 Thou hast more than he €an buy, 
 In the readh 6f ear and eye : 
 Outward Gun^ine, inward joy — 
 Blessings on tiiee, barefoot boy ! 
 
 S. Oh for boyhood's painless play ; 
 Sleep that wakes in ^aughing day ; 
 Health that m6c' do€tor*§ rule's; 
 
 Knowledge (neV' ned of school §) 
 
 Of the wild bee'g u^ aing dhase, 
 Of the wild flower time and pla9e. 
 Flight of fowl, and habitude^ 
 Of the tenants of the wood ; 
 How the tor'toise ^ bedr§ hi§ ^ell, 
 How the wooddhuck digg hig 9ell, 
 And tlie ground-mole sinks his well ; 
 How the robin feed§ her young, 
 How the o'riole's^ nest ig hung; 
 
 r3 e 
 
 U4-I 
 
 I 
 
 > BarSfoot (bar' fut). 
 » Jaunty (jan'ti), airy ; ^owy. 
 » Triidfe' ing, goii>g on foot. 
 * HSb' i tude, usual manner of 
 living, feeling, or ccting. 
 ' Tortoise (tor'tis). 
 
 * O'ri ole, & bird of several varie- 
 tieg of the fhru^ family- some of 
 a golden-yellow, mixed with black, 
 and otiierg hRving Srange in pla<;e 
 of the yellow ; sometimeg «alled 
 golden-robin or hang-bird. 
 
TH^ jbarefoot boy. 
 
 4. Wli^re the ^it^st lilie§ blow, 
 Wliere tlie Xre^li^st berrie§ grow, 
 Where the ground-nut trail§ its vine. 
 Where the wood-grape'§ clustery ^ine ; 
 Of the black wasp's €unning way. 
 Mason of hi§ wall§ of €lay. 
 
 And the architectural ^ plan§ 
 Of gray hornet arti§Rn§ !«— 
 For, esdhewings books and tasks, 
 Nature answ;ers all he asks ; 
 Hand in hand with her he walks, 
 Faqe to fa9e with her he talks. 
 Part and par9el of her joy, 
 Blessing^ on the barefoot boy ! 
 
 5. Oh for boyhood'§ time of June, 
 Crowding year§ in one brief moon, 
 When all fhing§ I hCard or saw, 
 Me, their master, waited for ; — 
 
 I wa§ ridh in flowers and tree§, 
 
 Humminsf-birdf and honey-bee§; 
 
 For my sport the squirrel (skwiir'rel) played, 
 
 Plied 4 the snouted mole hi§ spade ; 
 
 For my taste the black berry-€cne 
 
 Pftrpled over hedge and stone ; 
 
 Laughed the bro'ok for my delight, 
 
 Through the day, and through iihe night. 
 
 Whispering at the garden wall. 
 
 Talked with me from fall to fall ! 
 
 Si^ 
 
 
 
 6. Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel ^ pond, 
 Mine tlie walnut slopes beydnd, 
 
 * Ay chi tSct' ur al, of, or relat- 
 i;!i ^,0, the art of building. 
 
 '^ Ar' ti san, one trained to hand 
 skill in some me«hani-eal art or 
 trade; a me«hani«. 
 
 2 Eschewing (es ditt' ing), keep- 
 
 ing one'§ self -elear of ; Running. 
 
 * Plied, worked steadily. 
 
 * Pick' er el, k name applied to 
 several specie§ of fre^-water fi^eg 
 belonging to tixe pike family. 
 
88 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 m 
 
 III 
 
 'V 
 
 Mine on bending orchard trees 
 Apples of Hesperides ! * 
 Still as my horizon ^ grew, 
 Larger grew ray riches, too ; 
 All the world I saw or knew 
 Seemed a complex ^ Chinese toy, 
 Fashioned for a bdrefdbt boy ! 
 
 7. Oh for festal * dainties spread, 
 Like my bowl of milk and bread,— 
 Pewter spoon and bowl of wdbd, 
 On the door-stone gray and rude I 
 O'er me like a regal ^ tent. 
 Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, 
 P<irple-c6rtained, fringed with gold. 
 Looped in many a wind-swung fold ; 
 While for music came the play 
 
 Of the pied frogs' orchestra ; ^ 
 And, to light the noisy choir, 
 Lit the fly his lamp of fire ; 
 I was monarch : p6mp and joy 
 Waited on the barefoot boy 1 
 
 8. Cheerily, then, my little man, 
 Live and laugh, as boyhood can. 
 Though the flinty slopes be hard. 
 Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,' 
 Every mom shall lead thee through 
 Fresh baptisms of the dew ; 
 
 Every evening from thy feet 
 Shall the cool wind kiss the heat. 
 
 9. All too soon these feet must hide 
 In the prison-cells of pride, 
 
 ' Hespdr^ides, four sisters fabled 
 as guardians of golden apples ; 
 hence, golden apples are here meant. 
 
 * Ho rt' zon, the line that iK)unds 
 the sight where the earth and sky 
 appear to meet. 
 
 • OSm' plex, not simple. 
 
 * PSs' tal, belonging to a holiday, 
 or feast ; joyous ; gay, 
 
 ^ Re' gal, peiftaining to a king ; 
 kingly ; royal. 
 
 6 Orchestra (ar' kes tr&), a band 
 of musicians perfomiing in public. 
 
 ' Sward, the grassy surface of lau<J, 
 
THE PASHAS SON, 
 
 89 
 
 Lo§e the freedom of the sod, 
 Like a colt's for work be shod, 
 Made to tread the mills of toil 
 Up and down in ceaseloss moil ; * 
 Happy if their track bo found 
 Never on forbidden ground, — 
 Happy if they sirk not in 
 Quick and treacherous ^ sands of sin. 
 Ah ! that thou couldst know thy joy 
 Ere it passes, Barefoot Boy ! 
 
 III. 
 'J3. THE PASHA'S SOM 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 DURING my winter travels in Africa, several years ago, I 
 visited Khartoum,^ an Egyptian capital town of Nu'bia, 
 situated at the junction ^ of 'the Blue and the White Nile. The 
 two rivers meet just below the town, and flow as a single stream 
 to the Mediterranean, a distance of fifteen hundred miles. 
 
 3. When I reached Khartoum, the Austrian Consul ^ invited 
 me to liis house ; and th^re I spent three or four weeks making 
 acquaintance with the Egyptian dffi^ers, the chiefs of the de§ert 
 tribes, and the former kings of the different tribes of Ethiopia. 
 When I left my boat, on arriving, and walked thrQu^h the 
 narrow streets, between mud walls, very few of which were even 
 whitewashed, I thought it a miserable ^ place, and began to look 
 out for some garden where I might pitch my tent, rather than 
 live in one of those dirty-looking habitations.' 
 
 3. The wall around the Consul's house was of mud like the. 
 others; but when I entered I found clean, h8,n(^s6me rooms, 
 
 ' Moil, the soil or defilement that 
 ^Alines from severe labor ; a spot. 
 
 *' TrSach' er otts, faithless ; be- 
 traying a trust. 
 
 ' Ehartoum (kttr torn'). 
 
 * Junction (jui>gk'rfhun), the place 
 or point of union. 
 
 ^ 06n' sul, a person commissioned 
 to reside in a fSreign country, as a 
 
 representative or agent of a govern- 
 ment, to protect the rights, com- 
 merce, merchants, and seamen of 
 the state, and to aid in commercial 
 and sometimes other transactions 
 with such foreign country. 
 * Mis' er a ble, very ]M)or, 
 ^ HSV i ta' tion, a place of HhOde ; 
 a house. 
 
90 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 which famished delightful shade and coolness during the heat 
 of the day. The roof was of palm-16gs, covered with mud, 
 which the sun baked into a hard mass, so that the house was in 
 reill'ity as good as a brick dwelling. It was a great deal more 
 comfortable than it appeared from the outside. 
 
 4. Th^re w6re other features of the place, however, which it 
 would be difficult to find anywhere except in Central Africa. 
 After I had taken possession of my room, and eal/gn breakfast 
 with my host,^ I went out to lo1)k at the garden. On each side 
 of the steps, leading down from the door, sat two apes that 
 barked and snapped at me. 
 
 5. The next thing I saw was a leopard tied to the trunk of 
 an 6range-tree. I did not ddro to go within reach of his rope, 
 although I afterward became well acquainted with him. A lit- 
 tle farther, there was a pen full of gazelles 2 and an antelope ^ 
 with immense horns ; then two fierce, bristling hyenas ; and at 
 last, under a shed beside the stable, a full-grown lionesG, sleep- 
 ing in the shade. 
 
 6. I was greatly surprised when the Consul went up to her, 
 lifted up her head, opened her jaws so as to show the shining 
 white tusks, and finally sat down upon her back. She accepted 
 these familiarities^ so good-naturedly that I made bold to pat 
 her head also. In a day or two we w6re great friends; she 
 would spring about with delight whenever she saw me, and 
 would plir like a cat whenever I sat down upon her back. 
 
 7. I spent an hour or two every day among the animals, and 
 found them all easy to tame except the hyenas, which would 
 gladly have bitten me if I bad allowed them a chance. The 
 leopard, one day, bit me slightly in the hand ; but I punished 
 him by pouring several buckets of water over him, and he was 
 always very amiable after that. The beautiful little gazelles 
 would cluster around me, thrusting up their noses into my 
 hand, and saying, " Woid I looio ! " as plainly as I write it. 
 
 I 
 
 ' Host, one from whom another 
 receives f(55d, lodging, or entertain- 
 ment ; a landlord. 
 
 * Qa zSlie, a small, swift, and 
 beautiful species of antelope. 
 
 ^ An' te lope, an animal almost 
 
 midway between the deer and goat.- 
 Its horns are almost always round 
 and ringed. The eyes of some va- 
 rieties are large, black, and very 
 beautiful. 
 * Familiarities (fa mil y&r' i tiz). 
 
THE PASHA'S SON. 
 
 91 
 
 8. But n6ne of these animals attracted mo so much as tho 
 b g lioness. She was always good-humored, though occasionally 
 so lazy that she would not even open her eyes when I sat doM'n 
 on her shoulder. She would sometimes cfttch my fo'ot in her 
 paws as a kitten catches a ball, and try to make a plaything of 
 it — yet alwavcj without thrusting out her claws. 
 
 9. Once she opened her mouth, and gently tdbk one of my 
 legs in her jaws for a moment ; and the very next instant she 
 put out her tongue and licked my hand. We all know, how- 
 ever, that there are diflFerences of character among animals, as 
 there are among men ; and my favorite probably beldnged to 
 a virtuous and respectable family of lions. 
 
 10. The day after my arrival I went with the Consul to visit 
 the Pasha,! who lived in a large mud palace on the bank of the 
 Blue Nile. He received us very pleasantly, and invited us to 
 take seats in the shady court-yard. Here there was a huge 
 panther tied to one of the pillars, while a little lion, about 
 eight months old, ran about perfectly loose. 
 
 11. The Pasha called the latter, which came springing and 
 frisking toward him. " Now," said he, " we will have some 
 fun." He then made the lion lie down behind one of the pil- 
 lars, and called to one of the black boys to go across the court- 
 yard on some t.Tand. Tho lion lay quite still until the boy 
 came opposite to the pillar, when he sprang out and after him. 
 
 12. The boy ran, terribly frightened ; but the lion reached 
 him in five or six leaps, sprang upon his back and threw him 
 down, and then went back to the pillar as if quite satisfied with 
 his exploit. Although the boy was not hiirt in the lea^t, it 
 seemed to me like a cruel piece of fun. The Pasha, neverthe- 
 less, laughed very heartily, and told us that he had himself 
 trained the lion to frighten the boys. 
 
 IV. 
 24> THE PASHA'S SOM 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 AMONG the Egyj)tian 6f!icers in the city wa§ a Pasha' 
 L nam ed Rufah, ivho had been banished from Egypt by the 
 ' Pasha (pa s<ha')i a Turkish governor or commander. 
 
II 
 
 92 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 :.ti 
 
 1 
 
 * 
 
 m 
 
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 \% 
 
 Vice'roy.* Ho was a man of considerable education and intelli- 
 geuce, and was very unhappy at being sent away from his h6me 
 and family. The climate of Khar*^oum is very unhealthy, and 
 this unfortunate Pasha had suftc' d greatly from fever. He 
 was uncertain how 16ng his exile'' would continue : he had been 
 there already two years, and as all the letters dIrCcted to him 
 passed through the hands of the dfficers of government, he was 
 quite at a 16ss how to get any help from his friends. 
 
 2. What he had done to cause his banishment,' I could not 
 ascertain ; probably he did not know himself. There are no 
 elections in these Eastern countries : the people have ndthing to 
 do witii the choice of their own r\}lers. The latter are ap- 
 pointed by the Viceroy at his pleasure, and hold 6fflce only so 
 long as he allows them. The envy or jealousy of one Pasha 
 may lead to the riiin of another, without any fault on the part 
 of the latter. Probably somebody else wanted Riifah Pashft'f 
 place, and slandered him to the Viceroy for the sake of getting 
 him removed and exiled. 
 
 S. The unhappy man inspired my profound sympathy. 
 Sometimes he would spend the evening with the Consul and 
 myself, because h ; felt safe, in our presence, to complain of the 
 tyranny * under which he suflFercd. When we met him at the 
 houses of the other Egyptian dfficers, he was very cdreful not 
 to talk on the subject, lest they should report the fact to the 
 governor. 
 
 Jf.. Being a foreigner ' and a stranger, I never imagined that I 
 could be of any service to Rufah Pasha. I did not speak the 
 language Avell, I knew very little of the laws and regulations of 
 the country, and, moreover, I intended simply to pass through 
 Egypt on my retiirn. Nevertheless, one night, when we hap- 
 pened to be walking the streets together, he whispered that he 
 had something special to say to me. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ' Vice' roy, the governor of a 
 kingdom or country, who nileg in 
 the name of the king. 
 
 2 Exile (eks' il), forced separation 
 from one's native country and home- 
 
 ^ BSn' ish ment, the state of be- 
 ing forced by the government of a 
 
 country from its borders. 
 
 * T^t' an n;^, exercise of power 
 over subjects and dtherg witfi an 
 undue rigor ; -cruel discipline. 
 
 * FSr' eign er, a person not be- 
 Ifioging to, nor native in the country 
 spoken of. 
 
THE PASHA'S SON. 
 
 93 
 
 5 Although It waa bright moonlight, wo had a native B^r- 
 rant with us, to carry a lantern. The Paahft ordered the 
 servant to waik on in advance; und a tArn of the nftrrow 
 crooked streets soon hid him from our sight. iry thing was' 
 quiet, except the rustling of the wind in the paim-trees which 
 rose above the garden-walls. 
 
 6 "Now," said the Pasha, taking my hand, "now we can 
 talk for a few nunutes, without being overheard. I want vou 
 to do me a favor."-" Willingly," I ftnswered, « if it is in mv 
 power. '—"It will not give you muc', trouble," he said, "and 
 may be of great service to me. 
 
 7. "I want you to tuko two letters to Egypt-one to mv 
 son, who lives in the town of Tahtah, and one to Mr. Murray 
 the English Consul-General, whom you know. I can not trust 
 the Egy, lan merchants, because, if these letters were opened 
 and read, I might be kept here many years longer. If you 
 deliver them safely, my friends will know how to a'ssist me, and 
 perhaps I may soon bo allowed to return home." 
 
 S. I promised to deliver both letters with my own hands 
 and the Pasha parted from me in more cheerful spirits at the 
 door of the Consul's house. After a few days I was ready to 
 set out on the retfirn journey; but according to custom, I was 
 first obliged to make farewell visite to all the Officers of 
 gov'emment. 
 
 9. It was very ea^y to apprise Ryfah Pasha beforehand of 
 my intention, and he had no difficulty in slipping the letters 
 into my hand without the action being observed by any one. I 
 put them into my portfolio, with my own letters and papers 
 where they were entirely safe, and said nothing about the 
 matter to any one in Khartoum. 
 
 10. Although I was glad to leave that wild town, with its 
 burning climate, and retrace the long way back to Egypt 
 across the desert and down the Nile, I felt very s6rry at 
 being obliged to take leave forever of all my pets. The little 
 gazelles said, « Wow ! woiu ! " in answer to my " Good-bye ; " the 
 hyenas howled and tried to bite, just as much as ever; but the 
 dear old lioness I know would have been sorry if she could have 
 understood that I was going. 
 
 11. She frisked around me, licked my hand, and I to1)k her 
 
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 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 great tftwny ^ head into my arms, and gave her a kiss. Since 
 then I have never had a hon for a pet, and may never have one 
 again. I must confess, I am sorry for it ; for I still retain my 
 love for lions — four-footed ones, I mean — to this day. 
 
 12. Well, it was a I6ng joiimey, and I should have to write 
 many days in order to describe it. I should have to tell of 
 fierce sand-storms in the desert; of resting in palm-groves 
 near the old capital of Ethiopia ; of plodding,^ day after day, 
 through desolate landscapes, on the back of a camel, crdssing 
 stony ranges of mountains, to reach the Nile again, and then 
 floating aown with the current in an op^JU boat. 
 
 V. 
 
 26. THE PASHA'S SOJV. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 IT was nearly two months before I could deliver the first of 
 the Pashft's letters — ^ttat which he had written to his son. 
 The town of Tahtah is in Upper Egypt. You will hardly find 
 it on the maps. It stands on a little mound, several miles from 
 the Nile, and is surrounded by the lich and beautiful plain 
 which ie every year overflowed by the river. 
 
 2. There wa^ a head-wind, and my boat could not proceed 
 very fast ; so I took my faithful servant, Achmet, and set out 
 on foot, taking a path which led over the plain, between beau- 
 tiful wheat-fields and orchards of lemon-trees. In an hour or 
 two we reached Tahtah — a queer, dark old town, with high 
 houses and narrow streets. Tne doors and bal'conies were of 
 carved wood, and the windows were covered with lattices,^ so that 
 no one could look in, although those inside could easily look 
 out. There were a few sleepy merchants in the bazaar,* smok- 
 ing their pipes and enjoying the odors of cinnamon and dried 
 roses which floatea in the air. 
 
 * Taw' ny, of a dull yellowiflh- 
 brown color, like things tanned, or 
 persons who are sunburnt. 
 
 * P18d' ding, traveling steadily, 
 heavily, and slowly. 
 
 * LSt' tic es, crossed Ljrs. 
 
 * Bazaar (bS zar'), in the East, an 
 -ssemblage of shops where goods 
 
 are exposed for sale ; an exchange, 
 or a market-place. 
 
THE PASHA'S SON. qq 
 
 S. After some little inqui'iy, I found Rufah Pasha's houRe 
 
 allowed to receive the visits of strangers. Th^re was a shaded 
 
 while the black sgrving-woman went to the school to bring the 
 Pashas son She first borrowed a pipe from one of the m6r 
 Chants in the bazaar, and brought it to me. 
 
 4. Achmet and I sat there, while the people of the town 
 who had hc^ard that we came from Khartoum and TnewZ 
 Pa^ha, gathered around to a.k questions. They were all very 
 Lt r .r^^^' and seemed as glad to hear about the pZI 
 as If they beldnged to his family. In a quarter of an hour the 
 woman came back, followed by the Pasha's son and the school! 
 mister, who had dismissed his school in order to hear the news. 
 
 He hn?! u-^r' ?J '^'"'^ ^^^'' ^^^' ^"* t^» of his age. 
 He had a f Air face, and large, dark eyes, and smiled pleasanflv 
 when he ^w me. If I had not known something" 
 customs of the people, I should have given him my hLd r;'! 
 haps drawn him between my knees, put an arm around ^L 
 waist, and talked familiarly; « but I tiought it S to wait ^d 
 see how he would behave toward me. "> waic ana 
 
 . ^'m^t! ^"^^ ""^^^ "^ ^ ^^^^1 salutation,! just; as a man 
 would hav. done, then took my hand and gently touched tZ 
 his heart, lips, and fJr.A^ad, after which hefook his sePt on the 
 
 tation clapped his hands thrice, to summon the woman and 
 ordered c6ffee to be brought. ' 
 
 wl' "rL^T ^^y^^^^'^y in go«d health ? " he fisked. « Vdrv 
 well, G5d be praised!" I answered. "Has your Excellencv 
 an„ands for me ? You have b to spearyoulaHl 
 
 8." You are very kmd,» said I ; « but I have need of nothing 
 I brinff vou greetings from the Pasha, your father, and Mb 
 T^'' wnich I promised him to deliver into your o;n bands.' 
 rhei^upoiO^^ the letter, which he laid to his heart 
 
 ' against the wall of a room. 
 
96 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 and lips before opening. As he found it a little difficult to read, 
 he summoned the schoolmaster, and they read it together in a 
 whisper. 
 
 9. In the mean time cfifEee wa§ served in little cups, and a 
 very hant/some pipe was brought by somebody for my use. 
 After he had read the letter, the boy turned to me with his 
 face a little flushed, and his eyes sparkling, and said, " \ ill 
 your Excellency permit me to ask whether ycu have another 
 letter?" 
 
 10, " Yds," I answered ; " but it is not to be delivered here." 
 — "It is right," said he. "When will you reach Cairo? "i 
 " That depends on the wind ; but I hope in seven days from 
 now." The boy again whispered to the schoolmaster, but 
 presently they both nodded, as if satisfied, and nothing more 
 was said on the subject. 
 
 IL Some shgr'bet (which is nothing but lemonade flavored 
 with rose-water) and pomegranates ^ wSre then brought to me, 
 and the boy asked whether I would not honor him by remain- 
 ing during the rest of the day. If I had not seen his face, I 
 should have supposed that I was visiting a man — so dignified 
 and self-possessed and graceful was the little fallow. 
 
 12. The people looked on as if they were quite accustomed to 
 such mature 3 mar.ners in children. I was obliged to use as 
 much 9er'emony witii the child as if he had been ^ the governor 
 of the town. But he in'terested me, nevertheless, and I felt 
 curious to know the subject of his consultation with the school- 
 master. I was sure they were forming some plan to have the 
 Pasha recalled from exile. 
 
 IS. After two or three hom-s I left, in order to overtake my 
 boat, which was slowly working its way down the Nile. The 
 boy arose, and walked by my side to the end of the town, the 
 other people following behind us. When we came out upon 
 the plain, he took leave of me with the same salutations, and 
 the words, "May G6d grant your Excellency a prosperous 
 journey I " _____^_ 
 
 ' Oal' ro, the capital of Egypt. and numerous seeds, of a reddish 
 
 * Pomegranate (piim gr&n' gt), a color, 
 fruit as large as an grange, having ^ Ma ture, ripe ; full-grown, 
 a hard rind filled with a soft pulp *■ Been (blu). 
 
George n.w:ver. py 
 
 U, "May Odd grant it I" I responded; and then all th^ 
 people repeated " May God grant it I " The who^ inte vit 
 seemed to me hke a scene out of «ie -Arabian Nights 'tc 
 me It wa§ a pretty, picturesque » experience, which Ian not h^ 
 forgotten : to the people, no doubt, it wa^Vn eyeryX ^ te' 
 
 15. When I readhed Cairo, I delivered the o Jr iTttr and 
 m a fdrt'ngnt afterwanJ left Egypt; so that I co„ld not 
 a^Qertain, at the time, Whether any thin^ had been doL fn 
 orward tt.e P.ha', hopes. Some Lnth? aft™" htever 
 
 Lflf p1\ r^f " /'^^P^P^^^ ^"^^^ a^gidenlally, J 
 Rufah Pasha had returned to Egypt from Khitoum. I was 
 
 fpof t th'^th^p'^T^i '"' ' ""^^ ^^"^^^ ^^"-^> -^ ^"2 
 upon It ti^at the Pasha^? wi§e and dignified little son had a 
 
 hand m bringing about the fortunate regult. 
 
 VI. 
 26. GEORGE mmVER. 
 
 MEN have done brave deed§. 
 And bard§ have sung them well • 
 I of good George Nidiver 
 Now the tale will tell. 
 
 ^. In the Rocky Mountains 
 A hunter bold wa§ he: 
 Keen hi§ eye and sure hi.5 aim 
 A§ any you ^ould see. 
 
 «^. A little Indian boy 
 
 Followed him everywTiere, 
 Eager to Aare the hunter'§ joy, 
 The hunter's meal to ^are. 
 
 4. And wTien tiie bird or dee;* 
 Fell by tiie nunter'§ skilJ, 
 The boy wa§ always near 
 To help with right good-will. 
 
 ' Picturesque (pkt'yur ^sk'), fit- 
 ted to form a good or pleafing pi« 
 
 Whidi ig agreeable in & pi«ture 
 
DOMINION FOURTH R£:aDER. 
 
 5. One day a§ thrgugh tho cleft 
 
 Between two maun tain § ntoep. 
 Shut in both right and left, 
 Their weary way they keep, 
 
 G. They see two grizzly bedrs, 
 
 With hunger ficr9e and fell,* 
 Ru^ at tiiem unawAres 
 
 Right down the narrow dell. 
 
 7. The boy turned round with sereains 
 
 And ran with terror wild ; 
 One of the pair of savage beasts 
 Pursued the ^rieking cQiild. 
 
 8. The hunter rai§ed hi§ gnn ; 
 
 He knew one diarge was all : 
 And fhrpugh the boy'§ pursuing foe 
 He sent lii§ only ball. 
 
 .9. The ottier on George Nidiver 
 ** Came on with dreadful pa^e : 
 The hunter stood unarmed, 
 And met him fa9e to fage. 
 
 10, I say unarmed he stood : 
 
 Against those frightful paws 
 The rifle-butt, or elub of wood, 
 Could stand no more than straw§. 
 
 11, George Nidiver stood still, 
 
 And looked him in the fage; 
 The wild beast stopped amazed. 
 Then eame with slackening pa^e. 
 
 12, Still firm the hunter stood, 
 
 Although hi§ heart beat high ; 
 Again the t reature stopped. 
 And gazed with wondering eye. 
 
 * F^ll, cruel ; fier<;e ; bloody. 
 
EXCELSIOR. 
 
 IS. The hunter met hi§ gaze, 
 
 Nor yet an incfh gave way : 
 The bear turned slowly round. 
 And slowly moved dway. 
 
 U' What thoughts were in hi§ mind 
 It would be hard to spell ; 
 What thoughts were in George Nidiver 
 I rather guess than tell. 
 
 15. But sure that rifle's aim, 
 
 Swift c'hoi9e of generouc part. 
 Showed in its passing gleam 
 The deptlis of a brave heart. 
 
 99 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 I. 
 
 27. EXCELSIOR. 
 'T^HE SHADES of night were falling fast, 
 
 X As through an Al'pine village pAssed, 
 A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
 A banner with the strange devi9e,i 
 Excelsior 1 2 
 
 Hi§ brow wa§ sad : hi§ eye beneath. 
 Flawed like a falchion » from its ^eath ; 
 And like a silver clarion < rung 
 The a€9ent8 of that unknown tongue, 
 Excelsior I 
 
 S. In happy home§ he saw the light 
 
 Of household fire§ gleam warm and bright : 
 
 '^ 
 
 ng, otten wift t picture ; an orna- State of New York U S 
 
 •nent. figure, or mark. Whidi ^owg a Paichion ^S'Jh„n\ 4 ^ ^ 
 
 or^u^estB some o«xer object or .roo^M sSm.^ ' ^"^' ' '"^'^ 
 
 ^BKc^'aior, more elevated; suUeftol:"' ' ""' ^"'*™"^"* 
 
100 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Above, the spectral ^ glaciers 2 ^Gne; 
 And from his lips eseaped a groan, 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 SpSc'tral, ghostly. 
 
 '•^ Gla'gier, a field of moving i(;e. 
 
t}. 
 
 EXCELSIOR. 
 
 " Try not the Ptlss ! " the old man said ; 
 " Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
 The roaring t6rront i§ deep and wide !" 
 And loud that clarion voi9e rephed, 
 Excelsior I 
 
 " BoAvare the pine-tree's withered brundli ! 
 Beware the awful avalan9he!''i 
 'niis wa§ the peasant's last Good-night! 
 A voi9o replied, far up tiie height, 
 
 EXCELSIOB I 
 
 101 
 
 0. At break of day, as heavenward, 
 Tlie pious monks of St. Bernard 2 
 Uttered the 5ft-repeuted prayer, 
 A voiye cried, through tlie startled air, 
 
 EXCELSIOII ! 
 
 7. A traveler, by the faithful hound, 
 Hillf-buried in the snow was fwmd, 
 Still grasping, in hi§ hand of i9o, 
 That banner with tiie strange devi9e. 
 Excelsior I 
 
 8. Thove, in the twilight cold and gray. 
 Lifeless, but beautiful he lay ; 
 And from ti.e sky, serene'' and far, 
 A voi9e fell like a falling star. 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 'Avalanche (av'al&n^'), a 
 anow-slip ; a vast body of i(;e, snow 
 or earfli, sliding down a mountain. 
 
 '■' Saint Bernard (sent ber nilrd'), 
 a remarkable mountain pass in the 
 diain of the Alps, between Pied'- 
 mont and the Valais fva laO. A 
 strong stone monasteiy ig situated 
 on the summit of this pass at an 
 
 elevation of 8150 feet above the 
 level of the sea. Thm highest 
 habitation in the Alps ig o««upied 
 during tJie whole year by pious 
 monks, who, with their valuable 
 dogg, hold themselveg in readiness 
 to aid travelerg arrested by iJie snow 
 and -eold. 
 « Se rene', «lear ; fair; bright. 
 
102 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. 
 
 n. 
 
 28. THE BATTLE OF BLEmiEIM. 
 
 IT WAS A summer evening, 
 Old Kttspor'g work wa.5 done : 
 And he bofdre hi§ cottage door 
 
 W§i§ Hitting in the sun ; 
 And by him sported on the green, 
 Hi§ little granddhild Wilhclmine. 
 
 2. She saw her brother Peterkin 
 
 Roll something largo and round, 
 Whidh he beside the rivulet,^ 
 
 In playing there, had found, 
 He €amo to ask v^at he had fwmd. 
 That wa§ so large, and smooth, and round. 
 
 3. Old Kasper took it from the boy. 
 
 Who stood expectant 2 by ; 
 A.ndi then tiio old man i^ook hi§ head, 
 
 And with & natural sigh, 
 "'Ti§ some poor f61l6w'§ skull,'' said he, 
 " Who fell in the great victory. 
 
 ^. " I find them in the garden, for 
 
 There*§ many here about, 
 And 5ftm When I go to plmr, 
 
 The plow^are turn§ tiiem out ; 
 For many thaugand men," said he, 
 " Were slain in the great victory." 
 
 5. "Now tell us What 'twa§ all about," 
 
 Young Peterkin he crie§, 
 And little Wilhelmine looks up 
 
 With wonder- waiting eye§ ; 
 " Now tell us all about the war. 
 And What they killed eadh other for." 
 
 > Riv'u let, k small river or 
 brook ; a small ptreani, 
 
 ' Ex pSct'ant, having an appear- 
 ance of expectation ; looking for. 
 
DOMINION FOURTH READER. 10$ 
 
 6. " It wa§ the Engli^/' Kasper cried, 
 " That put the foe to rout ; ^ 
 But \^^at they killed eadi other for, 
 
 I €Ould not well make out; 
 But everybody said," quofli^ he, 
 " That 'twa§ a famous ^ victory. 
 
 ' Rout, ttie defeat or breaking of defeated and pnt to flight 
 (iHorder and confusion of troops s Fa'mous, noted ; well known 
 
104 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. 
 
 7. '• My fattier livod at Rlcnhiiin » tJien, 
 
 Yon little stream hard by ;' 
 They }»urnt hi^ dvollirtg to the ground, 
 
 And he \s^ fOrgcd to fly ; 
 So with hig wife and diild he fled, 
 Nor had he wTiore to rest hi^ head. 
 
 8. " WitJi fire and ^tt'6rd tiio country round 
 
 W^s wasted « far and wide, 
 And many A hapless * mothjr then. 
 
 And new-born infant, died ; — 
 But fhingu like that, you know, must be 
 At every famous victory. 
 
 9. ** They say it was A, fOiocking " sight, 
 
 After the field wai^ won. 
 For mai:y fliouijand _odie§ here 
 
 Lay rotting in the sun ; — 
 But thing§ like tiiat, you know, must be 
 After & famous victory. 
 
 10. ** Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, 
 
 And our good Fringe Eugene." — 
 " Why, 'twa§ a very wicked thing ! " 
 
 Said little Wilhelmine. 
 "Nay — nay — my little girl," quoth he, 
 " It w^g a famous victory. 
 
 11. " And everybody prai§ed the Duke 
 
 Who this great fight did win.'* 
 " But What good came of it at last ? " 
 
 Quofh little Peterkin. 
 "Why that I can not tell," said he, 
 " But 'twa§ & famous victory." 
 
 * Blenheim (blen' im), & village 
 of Bavaria, Germany, twenty -three 
 mi'leg from Augsburg, noted for & 
 great battle fouicht there, in ^Vhidh 
 the English gained & vi«tory over 
 their foe§, August 2, 1704. 
 
 > Hard by, near by; «lose at hand. 
 
 ''Wast' ed, destroyed ; brought, 
 to ruin. 
 
 * HSp' less, without hap or luck ; 
 unhappy ; lucklees ; unfortunate. 
 
 " i.Sck' insf, stripling witii h8r 
 ror or disgust ; very dreadful or 
 offenaive. 
 
WHERE IS THE ENEAfyf 
 
 106 
 
 m. 
 
 29. WHERE IS 'I HE EMEMY? 
 
 InAVJ] 8(imew1i6ro rdiid of a r<'g'iin6nt » ordered to mardi 
 into a small tfwii and take it. I fhiuk it ",^5 iii tiio Tj^rol; ' 
 but, wTierovor it vvai.5, '^ (iiuin9ed tluit tiio plage wajj Mettled by 
 A, colony who lx!(ievod tiie doctrine^ of Christ, t'.nd proved their 
 faith by good works. 
 
 '2. A courier 8 from a nei2;hborinj( village informed tJiom 
 tiiat troops were advAnyliig to take tlie ti>wn. They (piietly 
 ftnswercd, *• Wo sOiall not opr'oje tiiem with armg. Tf they will 
 take it, they must." 
 
 8. Soldierjj so5n eame ridin/; in, with color!;; flying, and fifes 
 piping their i^irill defiance. 'JMiey looked round for an enemy, 
 siiw tht farmer at hijj i)low, tiie blacksmith at hi)j anvil, and the 
 women a'i their di*\rnij and spinning. vfaQuh. Babie.5 ^rowtjd to 
 hear tiie music, and boys ran out to see tiie pretty trainers, 
 with feainerij and bright button§— '•' tiic harlequin§ * of the 
 nineteenth gentury." Of course none of the§e were in a proper 
 jwsition to be b^ot at. 
 
 4. *'Wherr are your soldiers?" tiiey asked.— "We have 
 none," wa^ tiie brief reply.—" But we have eow^ to take tiie 
 town."— " Well, friend.s, it lie§ before yon."— "But i§ there 
 nobody here to fight?"— "No: we are all Christians. We 
 trust in Hie will of God." 
 
 6. Here was an emCrgengy^ altogether unprovided for— a 
 sort of re§istan9o wTiidh no bullet could hit, a fdrtrtiss « perfectly 
 bomb-proof.'' The commander wa§ perplexed. "If th^ro i^ 
 
 ' R^fe'i ment, k body of eold'crg, 
 €oni.iidndf)d by A «olonel, and «on- 
 slBting of a number of -edmpaniof, 
 usually ten, 
 
 * Tj^r'ol, & province of tie Aus- 
 trian dominiong, on the soufh-west 
 frtntierg of Germany. 
 
 3 Oour?or (kQ'ri er), k messenger 
 sent with haste, for €onveying letr- 
 terg or dispat(^e§, usually on publi* 
 buginess. 
 
 * Har'le quin, a, man, dressed in 
 party-c61ored -elotheg, who playg 
 tricus, 6ften witliout speaking, to 
 divert the bystanderg or an audien<;e; 
 a merry -aiLdrew. 
 
 ^ E mer' g;en cy, a -eondition of 
 fhingg ai)p8aring suddenly or uneiL- 
 l>e-etedly. 
 
 * F&r'tress, & fort ; a «astle. 
 
 ' Bomb-proof (bQm' prof), seeure 
 againtit <iie fCr^e of bombg.or rihellg. 
 
 
106 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 nobody to fight ivith, of €ourse we ean not fight," said he : "it 
 i§ impossible to take such a town a§ this." So he ordered the 
 horse§' head§ to be turned &bout, and they carried the human 
 animal§ out o" the village a§ guiltless a§ they entered, and 
 p6rdhan9e somewTbat wi§er. 
 
 6. This experiment, oh a small scale, indicates how ea§y it 
 would be to dispense with armies and navie§, if men only had 
 faifli in the religion they profess to believe. 
 
 IV. 
 SO. THE TWO ARMIES. 
 
 y^S Life's unending column pourjj, 
 l\ Two mandated hosts are seen — 
 Two armie§ on the trampled i^iore§ 
 That Death flowg black between. 
 
 2. One mardlie§^ to tlie drum-beat's roll, 
 The wide-mouthed clarion's bray. 
 And be^r§ upon the crim§on scroll — 
 " Our glory is to slay." 
 
 8. One moves in silenge by the stream. 
 With sad, ySt watcfhful eye?. 
 Calm a§ the patient planet's gleam 
 Tiiat walks the clouded skie§. 
 
 J^. Aldng its front no saber§ ^ine. 
 No blood-red j^ennon^ wave ; 
 Its banner bearg the single line— 
 "Our duty is to save." 
 
 6. For those, no deatli-bed'§ lingering ^lade ;- 
 At Honor'g trumpet call, 
 With knitted brow§ and lifted blade. 
 In Glory'? arm§ ttiey fall. 
 
 6. For these, no flawing faldhions bright, 
 No stirring battle-cry; — 
 The bloodless stabber call? by ni^ht — 
 Eadh answerp — "Here am T!" 
 
THE RAIN. 
 
 7. For thoge, iiie 8€ulptor'§ laureled bust, 
 
 The biiilder*§ marble pile§. 
 The anfliem'g pealing o'er their dust 
 l^rgugh 16ng cathedral aisie§.i 
 
 8. For the§e the blo"Som-8prinkled turf 
 
 That flood§ the lonely grave§, 
 Wlien Spring roll§ in her sea-green surf 
 In flowery-foaming wave§. 
 
 9. Two patJig lead upward from below, 
 
 And angel§ wait above, 
 Who €Ount eadi burning life-drop's flow, 
 Eadh falling tear of love. 
 
 10. Though from the Hero'§ bleeding breast 
 
 Her pulse§ Freedom drew ; 
 Though the ^ite lilie§ in her crest 
 Sprung from that searlet dew — 
 
 11. While Valor'§ haughty diampions wait 
 
 Till all their S€ar§ are i^own, 
 Love walks unchallenged fhrQugh the gate, 
 To sit beside the Throne ! 
 
 107 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 I. 
 
 3L THE RAIJ\r. 
 
 A MERCHANT, riding home from a fdir, had a portm&n'- 
 teau 8 with a large sura of money behind him. It wa§ 
 raining v6ry heavily, and the good man became wet fhrftugh. 
 He wag annoyed ^ at this, and complained very mudi that Gdd 
 had given him sudh bad weather for his JoArney. 
 ^ 2. Hi§ way led him through a thick fdrest. The fier9e winds, 
 
 ' Aisles (ilz), alieyg ; passagef. carrying €lothing and otber fhing§ 
 
 ^Portmanteau (pOrt m&n' tC), a on jofimeys. 
 
 i^ made of leather, for - An noyed'', troi(bled ; vexed, 
 
 I — 
 
108 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 i 
 
 il 
 
 ji 
 
 fi 
 i'l 
 
 I 
 
 tiie black eloudg, the sad sighing§ of the swaying tree§, the 
 snapping and elatter of dead limb§, ihe roll of the thunder, the 
 gleam of Hie lightning, and the hissing and roar of the tempest 
 filled him with fear. 
 
 S. A§ he approached a tuft of tall trees for belter from the 
 storm, to hi§ great terror he saw a robber standing there, who, 
 without he§itation or saying a word, aimed hi§ gun at him and 
 drew the trigger. 
 
 4. He would have 96rtaifnly been killed, but the powder had 
 become damp with the rain, and the gun would not go 6ff. He 
 immediately gave spAr to hi§ horse, and happily escaped the 
 great danger. 
 
 5. When the merdhant wa§ in safety, he said to himself, 
 *' What a fool I was to complain about the bad weather, instead 
 of taking it patiently a§ a providen9e ^ of God ! If the sky 
 had been bright, and the air pure and dry, I ^ould now be 
 lying dead in my blood, and my cHiildreu would wait in vain 
 for their father '§ return., 
 
 6. '' The rain at wTiidi I murmured saved my property and 
 
 life. In future, I will not forg(5t w^at the proverb 2 say§— 
 
 ' What God sends is always well, though why, 'tis often hrird 
 to tell.' " 
 
 32. SUJVSHIJVJS AJfB SHOWERS. 
 
 TWO CHILDREN stood at their father'^ gate, 
 Two girl§ with golden hdir; 
 And th^ir eye§ were bright, and their voi9e5 glad. 
 
 Because the morn wa§ fdir. 
 For they said—" Wo will take that 16ng, long walk 
 
 In the hawthorn copse ^ to-day ; 
 And gather great bundlie§ of lovely flower§ 
 
 From 5ff the scented May ; * 
 And oh ! we s^all be so happy th^ro. 
 
 Twill be sorrow to come away V 
 
 ' Pr8v' i dence, foresight ; time- 
 ly -eare ; readiness to provide. 
 ' PrbV erb, an old and «oinmon 
 
 with for<;e and brevity some pra«ti- 
 •eal tnifh. 
 " 08pse, h wood of small growth. 
 
 sayinff ; a sentence ■w^idh exT>resse« ^ Ma v. <i.e hawfljorn or Mh flfv!.","."s 
 
sc/jsrsmjvjs and showers, 
 
 2. A§ the dhildren spoke, a little eloud 
 Passed slowly acrdss the sky ; 
 And one looked up in her sister*§ fa^e 
 Witii a tear-drop in her eye. 
 
 S. But the other said—" Oh I heed it not ; 
 
 'Ti§ far too fair to rain ; 
 That little eloud may seardh the sky 
 
 For other elouds, in vain." 
 And soon the dhildren'§ Yoi9e§ ro§e 
 
 In merrim^Dt again. 
 
 4. But 6re the morning hour§ waned, 
 
 The sky had dhanged its hue. 
 And that one eloud had dhased away 
 The whole great heaven of blue. 
 
 5. The rain fell down in heavy drops, 
 
 Tiie wind began to blow. 
 And the diildren, in their ni9e warm room. 
 
 Went fretting to -ml fro; 
 For they said— '* When we have uught in store. 
 
 It alwoys happeng so ! " 
 
 6. Now tiiese two fair-haired sister§ 
 
 Had a brother Mit at sea ; 
 A little midsliipman, aboard 
 The gallant " Victory." 
 
 7. And on tiiat self-same morning. 
 
 When they stood beside tiie gate, 
 Hi§ ^liip wa§ wrecked! and on a raft 
 
 He stood all desolate. 
 With the ov ii' sailorg round him, 
 
 Prepared to meet their fate. 
 
 8. Beyond they saw the €ool, green land— 
 
 The land witli her waving tree§. 
 And her little brooks, that rise and fall 
 Like butterflies in the breeze. 
 
 IGO 
 
Ilml 
 
 110 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 9. But &b6ve, the burning noon-tide sun 
 
 With seordhing stillness ^one ; 
 Their throats were pardhed with bitter thirst, 
 
 And they knelt down, one by one, 
 And prayed to G6d for fi drop of rain, 
 
 And a gale to waft tliem on. 
 
 10. And then that little eloud wa§ sent — 
 
 That i^ower in mer9y given ! 
 And, a§ a bird before the breeze, 
 Their bark wa§ landward driven. 
 
 11. And some few morningg aftei, 
 
 Wlien the (Children met onge more. 
 And their brother told the story, 
 
 They knew it wa§ the hour 
 When they had wi^ed for sun^ine. 
 
 And G6d badtsent the ^ower. 
 
 13. Singi ye to the Lord with praise: Who eovereth the 
 heaven with €loud§ ; and prepareth rain for the earth. Who 
 maketh grass to grow on the mountains, and A6rb§ for tho 
 servi9e of men. Who giveth to beasts their food, and to the 
 young raven§ that call upon him. The Lord takefh pleasure 
 in them that fear him ; and in them that hope in hi§ mer9y. 
 The Lord lifteth up the meek ; and bringeth the wicked down, 
 even to the ground. 
 
 SS. THE GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 A GRASSHOPPER, idle the whole summer 16ng, 
 Played about the tall grass with unthinking delight, 
 And spent the whole day with hi§ hopping and s6ng. 
 
 And sipped of the dew for big supper at night. 
 Thus night brought him food, and the red ri§ing sun 
 Awoke him, fre^ fed, to hi§ singing again ; 
 
 > Selected from the 14(ith Psalm. 
 
THE GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 And thus he went on with his frolic and fun, 
 Till winter winds whisi!led— and where was he then ? 
 
 Ill 
 
 2. The plain wore no Idnger the hue of his wing, 
 
 All withered and brown as a desert could be : 
 In vain he looked round for the shelter of spring. 
 While the longest green sprig scdrcely reached to his 
 knee. 
 
 The rime»-featbered night fell as white as a sheet, 
 And dewdrops vere frozen before they could fall; 
 
 The shy creeping sun, too, denied him his heat: 
 Thus the poor silly soul was deserted of all. 
 
 3, The Ant had forewarned him of what he would be 
 
 When he laughed at his toil on the parched summer plain: 
 He now saw the folly he then could not see ; 
 
 But advice tfi'en too late is but labor in vain. 
 If he wished to work now, there was nothing to find ; 
 
 The winter told plain 'twa§ too late in the day : 
 In vain he looked round in the snow and the wind. 
 
 Unable to toil, and too saddened for play. 
 
 h. He looked back and sighed on his singing and racket. 
 
 And employed the last hope he had left him, to beg ; 
 So he sought in the woods withered leaves for a jacket; 
 
 Of a rush he made crutches, and limped of a leg. 
 Tlie winds whis^M round him while seeking for pity ; 
 
 O'er the white crumping 2 snows he went limping aldng, 
 Sighing sad at each cottage his sorrowful ditty ; 
 
 But a s6ng out of season is poverty's s6ng. 
 
 5. The first hut he came to belonged to a Mouse, 
 
 Beneath a warm bank at the foot of a tree. 
 While dead rush and grass nodded over her house. 
 
 And made it as snug as a dwelling could be : 
 He told his sad tale ; and the Mouse, as in fear. 
 
 Bade him work for a living, and shrank from his sight; 
 For she at that moment was nibbling an ear 
 
 Of barley, she stole from a barn over night. 
 
 » Ornm'ping, hard ; oxwiiy ; brfttk, 
 
 ' Rime, hoar or white frost : con- 
 gealed dew or vapor. 
 
lU 
 
 DOMINION FOURrH READER. 
 
 It ? IT ' 
 
 6. He left her and journeyed half hopeless and chill, 
 
 And met witli a Beetle, that bus/led away 
 To a crack called his home, in a sun-slanting hill, 
 
 And he'd scdrce stop to hear what the beggar would say \ 
 Though he held 'neatii his arm a huge crumble * of bread, 
 
 Which a shep/ierd boy dropped on his cold dinner-seat; 
 And well might he haste when from danger he fled. 
 
 For his dog had nigh crushed him to death with its feet 
 
 7. At the hut of an Earwig he next made a call, 
 
 Who crept from the cold in a down-headed thistle, 
 That nodded and momently threatened to fall, 
 
 While winnowing by it the tempest did whistle ; 
 The beggar's loud rappings soon scdred her from sleep, 
 
 And her bosom for siifety did terribly quake ; 
 For she thought it the down-treading rus/le of sheep, 
 
 But slept undistiirbed when she found the mistake. 
 
 H. Hot summei-'s sweet n^instrel, the large humming Bee, 
 The one that wears clothing of tawny and brown, 
 Who, early in spring's kindled suns, we may see 
 Booming round peeping blossoms, and bowing them 
 down, — 
 Our beggar, though hopeless, resolved to try all. 
 
 And came to his hut in an old rotten oak ; 
 TJie Bee thought it spring, and was glad at the call, 
 But frowned a denfal ^ as soon as he woke. 
 
 9. He then sought a Ladybird's cottage of m6s8. 
 
 An old summer friend, with as little success; 
 And told his misfortunes,to live by the 16ss: 
 
 She pitied ; — ^but pity's no food for distressj. 
 A Chrysalis ^ dwelt on the back of dead leaves. 
 
 In a palace of silk, and it gladdened his heart : 
 But wealth rarely sleeps without dreaming of thieves ; 
 
 So she kept the door bolted, and bade him depart. 
 
 ' Orum'ble, a small crumb. 
 ' De ni'al, a refusal. 
 3 Chrysalis (kris'a lis), the form 
 into which caterpillars, silkworms, 
 
 assuming the perfect or winged 
 state. In the chrysalis state they 
 are inclosed in a case, which is spun 
 by the insect from a fiber prodnced 
 
 and somu utuur lu^ucisi puss uciuru bjr itself. 
 
THE GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 11$ 
 
 VI. 
 84, THE GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 HE then shunned the r6ad, and took up by a hedge, 
 Where some Gnats had collected to dance in the sun • 
 And the day smiled so warm 'neath the bushes and sedge, 
 
 That hope had nigh whispered the summer begun : 
 His heart even jumped at the sight of their play ; 
 But ere his sad steps to their revels had come, 
 A cloud hid the sun, that made night at noonday, 
 And each ^rnat soon was missing away to his home. 
 
 2. Over hill-spotted pasture and wild rushy lea, 
 
 A poor houseless vagabond, doomed for all weathers, 
 He wandered where none was left wretched but ho, 
 
 While the white flaky snow flew about him like feathers; 
 In vain he sought shelter, and down in the vale 
 
 By the brook to an old hollow willow did roam; 
 And there e'en a foot-foundered, slow, creeping Snail 
 
 Had crept in before him, and made it her home. 
 
 S. Her door was glued up from the frfist and the snow, 
 
 As a bee in its hive she was warm in her shell ; 
 And the storm it might drift, and the wind it might blow, 
 
 She was safe, and could dream about spring in her cell : 
 He knocked, and begged hard e'en to creep in the porch, 
 
 If she'd no room for two in her parlor to spare ; 
 But as dead as a dormouse asleep in a church. 
 
 All was silent and still, as no tenant was there. 
 
 4. Thus pleading and praying, and all to no good, 
 
 TeUing vainly a story of troubles and wants, 
 He bethought of an old stubby oak by a wood. 
 
 Where flourished in summer a city of Ants ; 
 And though they reproved him for singing and play. 
 
 And told him that winter would bring its reward. 
 He knew they were rich, and he hoped on his way 
 
 xhat pity's kind car would his aofrows regaixi. 
 
114 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 6. From people 8o rich trifles could not be missed, 
 
 So he thought, 6re his hopes to their finish had comej 
 Though as to their giving he could not insist, 
 
 Yet he might from such plenty be syre of a crumb. 
 Thus he dreamed on his journey ; but, guess his surprise, 
 
 When come to the place where such bustle had bee:i, — 
 A high wooden wall hid it all from his eyes. 
 
 And an tint round about it was not to be seen. 
 
 6. Their doors were shut up till the summer returned. 
 
 Nor would one have come had he stood for a day : 
 Again in despair with his wants he sojourned. 
 
 And sighed lone and sad on his troublesome way : 
 lie limped on his crutches in sorrow and pain. 
 
 With ne'er a hope left to indulge his distress ; 
 While snows spread a carpet all over the plain, 
 
 And, hiding each path, made him travel by guess. 
 
 7. He roamed through the wood, where he'd fain made a stop. 
 
 But hunger so painful still urged him away ; 
 For the oak, though it rocked like a cradle atop, 
 
 W as as still at its root as a midsummer day ; 
 Where the leaves that the wind wliirligigs to the ground. 
 
 And feathers pruned 6fE from the crow's sooty wing. 
 Lie 'mid the green moss that is blooming around 
 
 Undisturbed till the bird builds its nest in the spring. 
 
 8. The night came apace., and the clouds sailing by 
 
 Wore the copper-flushed tints of the cold setting sun, 
 And crows to their rime-feathered forests did fly. 
 
 And owls round about had their whoopings begun ; 
 He hopped through rough hedges and rude creaking 
 wickets. 
 
 Till a shepherd's lodge-house in the fields met his eye, 
 Where he heard with surprise the glad chirping of Crickets, 
 
 And hoped his companions and summer Avas nigh. 
 
 9. 
 
 He paused with delight o'er the chitter and mirth, 
 And tried to stare in through a crack in the door; 
 
 While a cat, half asleep on the TTarm cott 
 
 
 rth. 
 
THE GRASSHOPPER, 
 
 115 
 
 Dreamed a mouse made the rus/le, and bounced on the 
 floor: 
 Our beggar, half frightened to death at the sight, 
 
 Hopped off and retreated as fast as he could, 
 Better pleased to tramp on in the star-studded night. 
 
 Than hazai-d such danger for shelter and food. 
 
 to. In p&ssing a barn he a dwelling e?pied. 
 
 Where silk hangings hung round the room like a hall; 
 In a crack of the wall once again he applied, 
 
 And who but a Spider appeared at the call : 
 The Grasshopper said he was weary and Idst, 
 
 And the Spider gave welcome with cunning disguise j 
 Although a huge giant in size to nis host, 
 
 Our beggar's heart trembled with terror's surprise, 
 
 11. When he sat down before him dried wings of a fly, 
 
 And bade him with shy oort of welcome to eat ; 
 For hunger found nothing its wants to supply. 
 
 And fear made him ready to sink through his seat 
 Then to bed he went quaking, — and, faith, well he might, 
 
 Where mftrdered things lay round the room in a heap ; 
 Too tnje did he dream o'er his dangers that night. 
 
 For the Spider watched chances and killed him asleep. 
 
 W. In the morning a Cockrobin hopped from his perch, 
 
 And fluttered about by the side of the wall, 
 Where the murdering Spider peeped out on the l^rcn,* 
 
 And thought a new beggar was going to call; 
 The Robin soon found what the Spider was at, 
 
 And killed him, and bore the dead beggar away ; 
 But whether to bury, or eat him, or what, 
 
 Is a secret he never would tell to this day. 
 
 W, Thus sorrows on idleness ever attend, 
 
 And hiiexi shake hands with repentance too late. 
 Till forced to take up with a foe as a friend. 
 Then death and destruction is certain as fate. 
 
 ' Lib'ch, to hide, or lie in wait in order to surprise or seize another Umi, 
 ware. 
 
IIG 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Had he ta'on the advice of the hard-working Ant, 
 lie had shunned tlie Bad sndros of had company then, 
 
 And dwelt with liis hrotliers and sisters from wftnt, 
 AikI lived to see summer and singing again. 
 
 -♦•♦- 
 
 o 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 I. 
 
 S5. THE FLOWER-POT. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 NE fine day in summer, my father W9.5 seated on the 
 iftwn ^ before the house, his straw-hat over his eyes, and 
 his bdbk on his lop. Suddenly a beautiful blue and white 
 flower-pot, which had been set on the w!ndow-sill of an upper 
 story, fell to the ground' with a crash, and the fragments ' clat- 
 tered round my father's legs. 
 
 2. "■ Dear, dear 1 " cried my mother, who was at work in the 
 porch; 8 '• my poor flower-pot that I prized so much 1 Who 
 could have done this ? Primmins, Primmins I " Mrs. Prim- 
 mins popped her head out of the fatal* window, nodded to the 
 call, and came down in a trice,' pale and breathless. 
 
 3. " Oh," said my mother, mournfully, " I would rather have 
 lost all the plants in the greenhouse <> in the great blight' last 
 May ; I would rather the best tea-set were broken I The poor 
 geranium I reared myself, and the dear, dear flower-pot which 
 Mr. Oaxton bought for me my last birthday 1 that naughty 
 child must have done this ! " 
 
 ' Lawn (Ian), griss-ground in 
 jfr6nt ot' or near a house, generally 
 kept smoothly mown. 
 
 * Frag' ment, a part broken ofi ; 
 a small piece separated from any 
 thing by breaking. 
 
 - Porch, a kind of small r(3om 
 within, and nearest the outer door of 
 
 a building; entrance into, a house, 
 
 * Pa' tal, causing deafii or de- 
 struction. 
 
 ' Trice, instant; a very short time. 
 
 ^ Green' house, a house in which 
 tender plants are sheltered, and 
 kept green in cold weather. 
 
 ' Blight, mildew ; decay. 
 
TUE FtOWEX-POl: jj^ 
 
 *■ Mra. Primmins was dreadfu'lv ifp,ii,i nf ™- <• xi. 
 know not, oxccpt that vCry tZat L Si ■ ^ "'' ''^^' ' 
 afraid of very silent sliv thn . m7', ^ P""*"' »" •'«»'»'ly 
 g>ilnce at ,,/r ^t t'ho 'Z'^nl? to"""- ^ * """'^ 
 
 sob. " Don't tell fibs „4™v»»^rr ..^"jn"'" began to 
 coming out of the houseT i T, ,""'" *"" ™'™ ' »"<• L 
 '• aoni scold Cji,„l^^.- '-^-"f-ed rapidly,' 
 the flower-pot" """nm* . it was I who pyshed out 
 
 g-lg!t"tyfarhe' wllArr,'"^,'!"^* *» O'"' '"ile 
 hat, and w^regarf ^ J 1 LI J '^^^^^^ «»' »•" 
 
 " Hush 1 AndTOid bS it wIT ""^ ''•"•« """"o- 
 dent;' ho was standing soT„Vi' " *"« (-."ite an aoci- 
 Master Sisty? ZS ?■ ^'if- " ''\™™'- ""«»' '*• Did you, 
 i-ery angry" ^ ''"' '" " "'"^i^''' " <«• i^?" «« ic m 
 
 grieved oie. Th^is"! S 'doXr ^IJ; ' "^' '?.'"'™ 
 
 xz^r-' ' ^-' ''-ve iriUT-,2"^^r 
 
 PHfl t-l^JC f feaT^/t^nTS ^ "^ 
 ray head; -just to see how yon'd loot ^na- j '''"'■'gn'g 
 truth of it. Now beat me-r^t'r^rP""'' "■«>*'"'«"'» 
 
 eau%t^r:r:.t'^^Bf;^r --^I«\^«wn, and 
 
 wrdnff • vou shall v^ai^ -4. u ^' "' ^^^ ^^ve done 
 
 yourlaSlffd orfo ^^2^^? '"^^ f '''' 
 in spite of fear." ^ ^ "^ ^ '''° ^^<^ spoke tr«th 
 
 'Social (sS' Aal), relating to so- ^unv^~^Z~i^7^ " 
 
 eiety ; companionable ; friefdlv. "L' 'i h ? ^ "^ ^^'y- 
 
 'E'vlnce, manifest; show in a t^ Z^ ^^^^^^^an event that seems 
 
 B clear manner. '^ ^^ °«'"'" V ch&nce. from an un- 
 
 ■ '''^''^' --^^'y. «lowl,; care. iLZTZ' :L^!"* ?« -P<^- 
 
\: 
 
 f 
 
 
 118 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 11. 
 
 BQ, THE FLOWER- POT, 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 THE box of ddmJno§* waf my delight. " Ah 1" said my 
 filther, one day when ho found mo ])laying witii it in the 
 parlor, "ah! ygu like that better than all your playthings, 
 eh?"— «Ah, yos, papa." 
 
 2. *' You would bo very sdrry if your mammil' were fo throw 
 that box out of the wliidow and break it for fun." I looked 
 beseechingly at my father, and made no Answer. " But, per- 
 haps, you would bo very glad," ho resumed, *' '' suddenly one 
 of those good fdiries you read of would change the doniino- 
 box into a beautiful geranium in a beautiful blue and white 
 flower-pot, and that you could have the pleasure of piitting it 
 on your mamma's window-sill." 
 
 5. '"Indeed I would," said I, hiilf crying. 'My dear boy, I 
 believe you; but good wishes don't mend bad actions — good 
 actions mend bad actions." So saying, ho shut the door and 
 went out ; I can not tell you how puzzled I was to make out 
 what my father meant. 
 
 4. The next morning my father found me seated by myself 
 under a tree in the garden ; he paused, and looked at me with 
 his grave, bright eyes very steadily. " My boy," said he, " I am 
 going to walk xo town, will you come ? And, by the bye, fetch 
 your domino-box ; I should like to show it to a pCrson there." 
 I ran in for the box, and, not a little proud of walking with my 
 father on the h!gh-rotid, we set out. 
 
 5. " Papa," said I by the ay, " th^ro are no fairies now." — 
 *' What then, my child ? " — " Why, how then can my domino- 
 bok be changed into a l;'.w.Hful geranium and a blue and white 
 flower-pot ? " 
 
 6. " My dear," sail mj father, leaning his hand on my shoul- 
 der, " everybody who is in earnest to be gdbd, carries two fairies 
 about with him— one here," and he touched my f6reA(5«d ; " one 
 here," and he touched my heart. " I don*t understand, p. a," 
 said I thoughtfully. " I can wait till you do, my boy," said he. 
 
 ' I>8m' il n5s, twenty-eight pieces 
 of ivory, plain on the back@, wiih 
 
 spots on them, used for playing a 
 game called dominos. 
 
THE FLOWER.POT. jjq 
 
 dmer " I Jfll !S- ^ •.'"",'«' "'"' s'^Penct./' mid the gar- , 
 waS out ""' '^"'^ " '"^W-" n,„liod my father, and^we 
 
 00.0. again, wo r^uTbu;i ant LTy bJ^W f "^''*^' 
 somo months to ;vait." '^^ »»^otlior, my boy. Wo have yet 
 
 f?. " I have called to pay your littln hill " cn,M i. ^i 
 
 d™«i„g.aso whior;ro" ttp at sir. t** 'r ?' 
 
 l-t winter Sho,v j„ur domiuo-box, ™y di^t -' """"^ '" 
 
 a thing i. worth ^ease o"e' vfer^'t ^if V """ 
 gentleman gCta tired of his plavt.L'^thl t n " ^ T'« 
 for it f "_" W|,„ .;_>..„;, ,, ' ""'S' Wat will you give him 
 .,«■ A . .""y. sir, said the shopman, « I fear we wmlrl n„f 
 
 «/J/; "^'f|"<""'*i'«»f !"*»'d my father; "you would gi™ 
 
 kefhief o^r^re^r'C'ir f"^ ftt"' P*«™"hi: htd. 
 — ^"«^es , you Jiave found the two fairies ! " 
 
 , Knick-knacks, trifl^^T^^ 
 En ticed, tempted ; persuaded, 
 abandant. 
 
 -«i« cr ai, iree 
 
 * Com' men dS' tlon, praise ; ad- 
 miration. 
 
 ' I^gered (ling' gerd), waited. 
 
120 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 M\ 
 
 % 
 
 li 
 
 h 
 
 13. Aided by my father, I eflfected the desired exchange, 
 and, on our return, ran into the house. Ah I how proud, 
 how overjoyed I wa§ when, after placing vase and flower on the 
 window-sill, I plucked my mother by the gown, and made her 
 follow me to the spot. " It is his doing and his money ! " said 
 my father ; " good actions have mended the bad." 
 
 IJf. "What I" cried my mother, when she had learned all; 
 ^*and your poor domino-box that you were so fond of? We 
 shall go to-m6rrow and buy it back if it cSsts us double." 
 
 15. " Shall we buy it back, my boy ? " auked my father. " 
 no — no — no — it would spoil it all I " I cried, burying my face on 
 my father's breast. 
 
 16. " My wife," said my father, solemnly,^ " this is a good les- 
 son to our child — undo not what it should teach him to his 
 dying hour." 
 
 III. 
 
 37. USflFUL PEOPLE. 
 
 THERE are many ways of being useful. Yqu are useful — 
 you who, from a love of order, and from a wish to see 
 everybody happy, watch cdrefuUy that nothing should be out 
 of place, that nothing should be injured, that every thing should 
 saline with cleanliness. 
 
 2. You are useful — you whom sickness keeps in chains, and 
 who are patient and VQ^lgne^,^ praying for those who are doing 
 work that you would like to do. 
 
 3. You are useful — you who are prevented ^ by others from 
 working because they douit your €apa9ity;* you who get 
 snubbed ^ and have employments given to you that are quite 
 unfitted to your ability, and who yet keep silence, and are 
 humble and good-natured. 
 
 ^ Which one of you all, dear souls, is the happiest and most 
 useful ? The one that is nearest to God ! 
 
 5. 
 
 " Do well to-day the litTle that Pr6\idence asks of you just 
 
 ' Sbl' emn ly, with a grave manner, 
 s Re signed, bubmisaive ; yielding. 
 ' Pre vSnt' ed, hindered ; crSssed ; 
 ihwtixled. 
 
 * Oa pSc' i ty, ability ; mental 
 power ; talent. 
 
 ^ Sntibbed, treated with neglect i' 
 gligutcd by dcgign. 
 
GENMSOUS PEOPLE. i^i 
 
 now," writes St. Francis de Sales, "and to-morrow which win 
 then bo onr to-daj, we shall see what ought tor^dlXr» 
 
 member thon f 1,0+ a. • -xj . ^ "^^^ ' ^6* "s re- 
 
 IV. 
 S8. GEJVEROUS PEOPLE. 
 
 piLtXe^t "^rzarettrh^rr-lr 
 
 iDg and easy occupation. ^^^ ^ ® ^ °^^^- 
 
 .ottonj Of his"leSilX'™t.^„ tlr "^ " "' *■"> 
 a It (an never be 6jh9ustcd,< if we were to give forever • anfl 
 
 I f "» ^^1' lish, to make beautiful. 
 
 . A^s (amz), any thing freely 
 ?iven to relieve the poor. 
 
 'Pro via' Ion, something laid tnj 
 n store, especially f<5&d. 
 
 * Ex haust' ed. entiielv i>m«ti^ 
 
 or used ; consumed. 
 
 ' Af ftc ta' tion, an attempt to 
 assume or display what is not natu- 
 lalorreal. 
 
 'Aff pro bS' tlon, praise ; liking ; 
 coiuiucuutttloa. 
 
122 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 SECTION IX. 
 I. 
 
 39. iHE CASTLE-BUILDER. 
 
 A GENTLE boy, with s5ft iind silken locks, 
 A dreamy boy, with brown and tender eyes, 
 A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks, 
 And towers that touch imaginary skies. 
 
 2. A fearless rider on his father'§ knee. 
 An eager listener unto stories told 
 At the Round Table * of the nursery, 
 Of heroes and sidventures manifold. 
 
 S. Th^re will be other towers for thee to build ; 
 There will be other steeds for thee to ride ; 
 There will be othet legends, and all filled 
 With greater marvels and more glorified. 
 
 ^ Build on, and make thy cashes high and fdir. 
 Rising and reaching upward to the skies ; 
 Listen to voices in the upper dir, 
 Nor lose thy simple faith in mysteries. 
 
 II. 
 40. THE FUTURE. 
 
 WHO knows the future ? Who has turned its pages, 
 Reading its secrets with divining power ? 
 We may look backward fhrgugh the reach of ages, 
 We can look fdrward not a single hour. 
 
 2. Yet withouu fear, without one dark misgiving. 
 May we press onward with alacrity. 
 Hoping and trustful ; only this believing — 
 That as our purpose our reward shall be. 
 
 lii' 
 
 'Round Table, an allusion to his forty knights about a large, 
 the history of the King Arthur of round, marble table, in order to 
 
 £iiiKi»i^U WUU wna SEiu to Sit rritu 
 
 
 lil 
 
mn HOlY VIRGW^S KNIGHT. 
 
 8, Then will the light that dwells in heavenly places. 
 Flooding with joy a world beyond orr le 
 Before who^ brightness angels veil their C^ 
 Shme with sweet influence on all our ways 
 
 III. 
 41. THE HOLY YimiJsr'S XmOHT. 
 
 W^F^r lh^^*K^\^"^^'' ^^^^ ^«^^d praise* 
 Tt! \ , T T^"^ ^^ '*"*^^ «^ honor's field. 
 How hushed the tones in which he breathed 
 llie name to reverent homage sealed 1 
 2. How pure then were his heart and faith, 
 
 The BlessM Virgin's holy name. 
 As knight to battle for her sake I 
 5. To good Sir Hubert, tnje of deed. 
 
 The call to toArney's strife once came- 
 As to the field, from far and near, 
 AU pressed who strove for knightly fame. 
 
 4. At matin-prime Sir Hubert rode, 
 
 Eager to meet the fateful day,' 
 And as he to the lists i drew near, 
 A minster's 2 walls rose by the way. 
 
 5. To Mary Mother consecrate. 
 
 The sacred portals open stood. 
 Within, the tapei-'s starry light 
 Glittered on shrine and Holy Ro-od.3 
 
 e. From field afar rang trumpet bla.st, 
 VVhile hymn rebounded from within : 
 And robed priests to Holy Mass 
 Bade all who mourned the plague of sin. 
 7. « Who pauses here fdres heavenward stiU," 
 feir Hubert said, and sprang from steed; ■ 
 
 US 
 
 '^n' star, a cathedral charch. '^;:;i;^;:^r ^- 
 
iili 
 
 124 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READ EH. 
 
 *' Man'§ strengfh alone no battle wins, 
 Heavcn'§ help doth knight to victory lead." 
 
 8. Ho lifts the hSlmet from hi§ brow, 
 
 With soft step troad§ the lengthening aisle,* 
 Lowly at Mary'§ serine he kneelg, 
 The Mass €ome§ to its end the ^ile. 
 
 9. But soon the sa€red (ftiant renewed, 
 
 The bell, the breath of in9ense spread. 
 Claim on9e again the listening ear, 
 The lifted heart, the bowed head. 
 
 ' Aisle (il), a walk in & crtiurdh. 
 
THE HOLY VIRGIN'S KNIGHT. t26 
 
 -^s 
 
 10. 
 
 And y6t again the uplified Host, 
 The awful sense of G6d so near, 
 
 Smite on the hearts of kneehng thrdng, 
 And hold all hushed in holy fear. 
 
 IL Not rudely from the sacred place 
 
 Would good Sir Hubert rush to fray,» 
 And while he sought our Lady's grace, 
 Unnoticed sped the hours away. 
 
 12. So when his steed he urged to field, 
 And to the totirnaments drew near. 
 As signal of the combat's close, 
 Tlie herald's 8 triimpet sounded clear. 
 
 IS. As one in dream Sir Hubert gazed, 
 Perplexed < by signs of ended fray, 
 While knights drew near with loud accluim,» 
 And hailed liim victor of the duy. 
 
 IJh They grasped his hand, each strove to praise 
 His feats « of skill in lists and ring ; 
 Prices his lance » and spear had won ' 
 Before his wondering eyes they bring. 
 
 15. Heralds approached, and bending low. 
 Essayed 8 to lead him to the throne* 
 Where Beauty's hand bestowed the prize 
 By knightly deeds of valor » won. 
 
 le. " Not laggard ^ knight such gu6rdon " wins ; 
 Let worthier head wear victor's crown " 
 Sir Hubert said. " When trumpet called 
 Those who would battle for renown," 
 
 ' Pray, fight ; battle. 
 ^ Tour' na ment, a mock fight. 
 HSr' aid, a public crier. 
 
 * Per pISxed', troubled ; emba^ 
 rassed. 
 
 " Ac claim', praise ; shouts of 
 applause, 
 
 * Peats, deeds ; remarkable actions. 
 
 '* Lance, a long, sharp spear. 
 
 * Es sayed', attempted ; tried. 
 
 " VSr or, bravery. 
 
 '" I^g' gard, one who lags behind; 
 a slothful person. 
 
 '' Guerdon (ggr' don), reward. 
 
 '^ Ke nown', exalted reputation ; 
 fame; celebrity*. 
 
■A 
 
 1^6 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 17. " In holy chui-ch were Masses said, 
 
 And morning hour to noonday wore ; 
 While I, unheeding, knelt to pray. 
 The strife was closed, the combat o'er." 
 
 18. " Humility is knighthood's crown. 
 
 Yet can he valor's meed ^ disclaim 
 Whose triumphs here all eyes beheld ? 
 All hearts accord him well-earned fame." 
 
 19. So rang their eager questions out. 
 
 And with their words came sudden light — 
 " The Queen of Heaven for me hath striven; 
 Her victories crown unworthy knight ! " 
 
 iSO. Sk Hubert said, the while all h6ard, 
 
 And hearts were moved to fervent praise 
 Of Heaven, that stooped such aid to bring 
 To loyal souli that sought its grace. 
 
 21. Kneeling, Sir Hubert said, " Henceforth 
 My vows, my life, to her are given 
 Who deigns (dan§) to own me as her knight. 
 Prais6d be Mary, Queen of Heaven ! " 
 
 IV. 
 42, MOTH AJSTD RUST. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 A CERTAIN mountain spring had four sons, three of whom 
 were steady-going, well-to-do bro1)ks— the first being in 
 the violet-growing business, the second a scene-maker, while the 
 third had hired himself out to a woolen-spinner ; but Steme, 
 the youngest, had all his days been a cdr^ and vexation to his 
 father. He had all the antic ^ tricks of his cousins, the fogs 
 and mists, and the fickle » dispc-sition « of his mother, who was 
 of the Fire family. One moment he drew himself out to the 
 
 ' Meed, a merited reward. 
 
 » An' tic, wild ; odd. 
 
 > fiok' le, changeable | not Qop- 
 
 tinuing long of the same mind. 
 
 * Dis' posi'tion(ziA' un), natural 
 bent of mind ; moral character, 
 
MOTH AND RUST. ly 
 
 le^ of a giSnt, as if ho had been m much Rntta-nercha < or 
 
 whisiW, till the family were wild with his noise. A little After 
 he wasg«ne-mnm as a moase, however jou called hTm-^d 
 never any two days iUike, except in the fi,t that he Cat all 
 
 utterly out of patience, hu8<W him out of fdiiT-land with 
 
 ^ .ar- "^^ '"^ ".iV^ "■"« ^o" ^^ght your fortLe" ' 
 
 S. It isvCryodd," said S(«me to himself. "I am sure T 
 
 where- a^idt'r' " f"^ "^"^ ""' -»« mii Ze! 
 wnere —and coming just then to a house which had nn ti.= 
 
 door-plate the woris, " Wisto Max," he ^^ the S think 
 
 mg, perha,^ he question co,ld be sett J there but Ih^ 
 
 Wisest Man only sho-ok his head. •' If you could toe teen of 
 
 any nse, somebody would have discoven^ it b:?i"Tid hT 
 
 * So Sterne traveled on till he came to the court of the Wn„ 
 
 where was a great hubbub; and as no one would my hhnTh; 
 
 5. The court was in a hubbub 3 bprnnHA nf +i,« i • »> 
 
 c,.: andwhetherhehadehan ed tr: Ltlo"tot 
 ordered the trimming for the Lord High FiddlSkT^^n 
 satin gown, or at the jeweler's, where his crewn was E 
 
 ale h,8 Royal Highness was quite unable to dedde. ^ 
 
 Dea covers, the langings, the carpets, the silks and velveta thp 
 wool and linen, the lace and embroidery, in evTry prt S II 
 
 Gutta-percha (gftf U-peK ch&) 
 a Imrd gum or juice of several trees 
 m tUe jVfaJa^an Isjand.i. It resem- 
 
 bles India rubb^iTahdlTiised for 
 
 Tnonir iioA-f.*! -^A 
 
 ' Kfib' bub, a great noise. 
 
12S 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and gr&nite, the oak and w^Jnut, tlio houses and ships, every- 
 where in his kingdom. 
 
 7. The king grew nervous. " We are all coming to poverty," 
 said his Koyal Highness ; and though it was drawing toward 
 Christmas, he did little but peep (hrgugh the spectacles and Idbk 
 di§mal.^ Of course, all the court looked dismal too. The 
 courtier§ * got a crick in the neck by going about witii heads on 
 one side, like his Majesty. 
 
 8. The Led High Fiddlestick, being of a jolly » disposi- 
 tion,* wa§ obliged to shut himself up and liiugh privately by 
 the hour, to take the fun out of him before waiting on his 
 Eloyal Highndss; while the ladies wore their old gowns to 
 court, and said, wh6re the king could hear them, " Oh, we are 
 obliged to piece and patch in these days. Between that dread- 
 ful M6th and Rust we are all coming to poverty, you know." 
 
 9. In this dilCm'ma' they sent for the Wi§ust Man, who 
 came at once, looking so profound * that the king took coiirage, 
 and said, « What shall T^^e do ? Tell us, now."—" Hum ! " said 
 the Wisest Man, " that is a grave question. Let us go back to 
 first principles.' If th^re was nothing to eat, there would be no 
 moths, and nothing to consume, there would be no rust — df 
 you see ? " 
 
 10. " Y($s — certainly — of course," said all the courtiers ; but 
 the king only groaned. " But as there is silk and satin, velvet 
 and linen, gold and diamonds, (everywhere in the kingdom, I 
 re'ally don't see what you are to do about it," concluded ^ the 
 Wisest Man, and marched Sway home again. 
 
 11. This was cold comfort, and tlie king groaned more deeply 
 than ever; but the king's son eaid to himself, "If there is no 
 help for it, why can not we contrive to grow rich faster, and so 
 keep ahead of the leak ? " So he sent for all the rich men in 
 
 ■M 
 
 > DIs' mal, gloomy ; unhappy 
 
 ' Courtier (kOrt' yer), a member 
 of, or one who attends, the court of 
 a prince ; one who flatters + 1 please. 
 
 8 Jttl' It, full of life aud fun ; 
 laughter-loving, 
 
 < D3to' po si' tion, temper ; char- 
 acter. 
 
 3iingg in which hinderances are 
 found on ..very side, and it is diffi- 
 cult to tell what to do ; a difficult 
 or doubtful choice. 
 
 ® Pro found', having a deep mind ; 
 skilled. 
 
 ' Prin' ci pies, that from which 
 any thing proceeds. 
 
MOTH AND RUST. 229 
 
 Lho kingdom "How did you grow ridi?"iiaked the prince 
 '* By trading," an8«;orcd tlioy altogether. ^ 
 
 12 « Trade more then, and we shall not all come to poverty " 
 saidthepnnce "Alas! your Highness 1" answered Te rich 
 men, sorrowfully, "we send dway now just ^ much wheat and 
 
 ™nd"w,''^^"' " "'^' «^^' ^^^ ^«^^' - - -" fi»d 
 /r« w T f"""' ^""^ "^^'"y"'^' ^"^ J^«"«<^« for storing." 
 f . « f^«ter, then," suggested the prince. '?We work 
 as fast as flesh and blood is able," taer^d the rTl Tnon 
 together as before. 
 
 Jet "^^n ^' "'^ *^^™''" '^^^ ®^^°^^ *« hi™««lf- "Here is 
 work a htt e more to my taste than vT61ot-growing;"~and he 
 began to clatter the cover of the kettle. "Who is there?" 
 asked the pnnce. " Steme," gargled the kettle. "And what 
 can you do, Sterne?" said the prince. " Carry as many tons L 
 you like, and run sixty miles an hour," spluttered the kettle. 
 
 15. That IS a likely story ! " cried the prince-" ctirled up 
 there m a kettle, whoever yon are!"— "Try me," said Steme 
 coming out of the kettle. So the prince ordered a load that 
 would have brOk.n the backs of forty horses to be slapped 
 behind Steme, who darted 6ff witii it as if it had been a feather 
 shrieking, snorting, and puffing, as he always did when his 
 blood was up; md though he had a three-days' jolimey berore 
 Inm, he wa. back in a few hours, fresher than when he started 
 
 V. 
 4S. MOTH AJVD RUST. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 '•]\/rORE loads! more tons!" bellowed Steme. «L5nger 
 
 iVX journeys! I want to go farther. I want to go faster 
 
 I can run twice as fast! Huzzii!" swinging his aims, and 
 
 capenng and jumping all the while, as if he wa^ beside Liinself. 
 
 2. Ah! this IS better," caid the prince, setting all the men 
 
 in the palace to load Steme still more heavily. "Not much 
 
 roaring for more loads. 
 
 5. All the men in the kingdom were set at work. Twice as 
 ~~ """" ""^ "-• ^^« i^n^ out, aua iour times as much silk 
 
130 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 • '^ 
 
 and gold were brought in, as ever before. " Not much danger 
 of poverty now," oxolaimed the courtiers; and even the king 
 smiled, till he thought to put on his spectacles, when he saw 
 more moth and more rust, eating twice as fast as ever before at 
 the wheat and oil, the silk and gold. 
 
 4. ** That is because you don't work fast enough," shouted 
 Sterne. " Who ever saw such wheels and looms ? Let mo spin ! 
 Give mo thousands of wheels ! I can weave ! Give me loom§ 1 
 give me spindles! — millions of spindles — hundreds of thousand? 
 of looms ! " So men worked night and day to make spindles and 
 wheels and looms for Sterne ; and a thousand workmen could 
 not spin and weave the tenth part of what Stemo did in a day, 
 " More, more ! " cried Steme, buzzing and whirring and clicking 
 and whizzing among his wheels and spindles. "Not hiilf 
 enough y6t ! " 
 
 6, But the king, looking through his spectacles, saw Mdfh 
 and Rust busy as ever at the V(5ry wheels and spindles and 
 looms themselves. "St^ll it is your fault," shouted Steme. 
 "You don't get about fast enough. Your horses creep like 
 snails. Give me horses with iron backs — hundreds of them — 
 thousands! I will draw your carriages. Give me paddles — 
 twenty and thirty in a hand I I will row your boats." 
 
 6. So Steme drove the carriages, and rowed the boats ; and as 
 people went dashing and tearing about everywhere, they panted 
 to each other, " What a wonderful nation we have grown to 
 be ! no chance for Moth and Rust now ! '* 
 
 7. But, looking through his spectacles, the king saw mdth§ 
 by the million, and rust on Svery thing. "Your fault still!" 
 snorted Steme. " Why don't you read more ? Why not have 
 more bdbks ? Let me make your books. Everybody shall have 
 them. Every one shall read and be wise. Some one will then 
 find out the remedy for Moth and Rust." 
 
 8. So Steme made books by the ton, and carried them every- 
 where — thundering continually, " More, more ! faster, faster ! 
 not half enough y6t ! " But still the king saw moth§ and rust 
 increase, and on Christmas eve he had no heart for Yule-16g; ^ 
 
 ' Tule (ygl), Christmas, or the feast wood formerly put on the heftrth on 
 held in memory of the birth of our Christmas eve, as the foundation or 
 
MOTH AND RUST. tsi 
 
 7L^Y^^'''T'^'^"' ^' ^^"^"'^^ ^^'^^ '" theWrosM and 
 wa ked Uierc by h.mself, till jus. nt dark he met a «tru„ger. 
 
 king for the man hud such a broad, jolly, smiling face that the 
 king knew ,t w,us none of his court. « I am Mfirry Christmas," 
 
 5ro8t. 1 he kmg was curious to know why Merry Christmas 
 
 .ad pulsed his palace, wh6re were a hundred Christmas-trees 
 
 and a Yule-ldg on «very heftrth, to stop at the cottage, where 
 
 wllL^on tci'"' ''"^'"^ """'' ^^'"^ " P^'^^ ^^'^"^*^' ^"^ he 
 m In the cottage lived an old woman and a little girl 
 Agamst the ch.mney hung the little one's stacking, and on the 
 table before the fire, was a chicken nicely browned. The 
 
 l?o7f?'^ V^ ^'""'i^"^ ^^' "*^^^ ^^^ ^^*«^«<1^ f«r the dame 
 nht^r f '^''''' '°^' "' ^"'^ '"^y helieve, they had not roast 
 chicken for dnmer Cvery day; but just as M^rry Christmaa 
 op_.n.d he door, there stepped in, before him and the king, a 
 poor little, hungry, shivering boy. 
 
 //.« Sit down," said the dame; "we wCre waiting for you. 
 And let us thank our Lord for all His grace."-" Why thr-rc is 
 hardly meat enough for two," cried the Ling. " Such a little 
 chicken ! "-« But h ush ! " said M^^ny ChristLs, « I cLe ! '> 
 
 i^. And, looking at him, the king understood how there 
 
 Zf .r r ^^. """^"^^ ^^' *hree, but that it would taste 
 better than the choic^st^ bit of turkey that the Lord High Fid- 
 
 MdrrvChTt' 'T/" '" '^^'''^'' ^^" P^^*^> ^^^ when 
 Mdrry Christmas sat down on the hearth, there was such aglow 
 
 Ih f °t. v'P'l,''"^ '"'^' ^ hght in the taUow candle, and 
 such a brightness thrQugh all the roDm, that came out of Merry 
 Chnstma^ and had nothing to do with either fire or candle, 
 that the three at the table rejoiced like birds or babies, with' 
 out understanding why; and the king knew that the great hall 
 in his palace, witii its Yule-log and its chandeliers,^ would be 
 dark and cold beside the little room. 
 ^^^Justjhenjie^ remembered his spectacles, and, pulling 
 
 ' T)iii^ est, a large tract of land 
 covered wiA trees ; a laree wood 
 -r'»v»w was, west ; laoBl aesifaUie. 
 
 8 OhandeUer (^ftn' de ler'), a 
 frame with br&ncnies to hold a num- 
 fa«r pj CftndJes or other lights. 
 
132 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 thom out, hastily clapped them on his noso and looked about 
 him. "Bless my soull" oi'.ad the king with a start; and, 
 taking dff his spectacles, ho rubbed them cArefully, and looked 
 again ; but stdre as he would, he saw neither Moth nor Hust. 
 
 i^. "How is this?" thought the king, when, looking again 
 aiul njoro sharply, ho spied written on Cvery thing in the little 
 room, " We givo of what we have to-day to whoever needs, and 
 trust to G6d for to-mdrrow." — "Oh/' said M firry Christmas, 
 chuckling, " no preventive like that against Mdth and Itust ; " 
 ■ — but the king went homo sdrrowful, for he w^§ very rich. 
 
 VI. 
 44. A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 ONCE in David's royal city 
 Stood a lonely cattle shed. 
 Where a Maiden laid her Baby, 
 With a n^unger for His bed. 
 Mary wa§ that Mother mild, 
 Jesus Christ her only Child. 
 
 X. He came down to 6arth from heaven, 
 Who is God and Lord of all. 
 And His shelter was a stable, 
 And His cradle was a stall. 
 
 vV^ith the poor, and mean, and lowly. 
 Lived, on earth, our Saviour holy. 
 
 8. And through all His wondrous childhood. 
 He would honor and obey. 
 Love and watch the lowly Maiden 
 In whose gentle arms He lay. 
 Christian children all must be 
 Mild, obedient, good as He. 
 
 4. For He is our childhood's pattern. 
 Day by day nke us He grew ; 
 He was little, weak, and helpless. 
 Tears and smiles like us He knew. 
 And He feel6th for our sadness. 
 And He shar^tli in our srladness. 
 
^OSA USE. 
 
 5, And our eyoa at lOet shall see Him, 
 
 Thrgugh His own redeeming lovo; 
 For that Child so dear and gentle 
 Is our Lord in Heaven above. 
 And He leads His children on 
 To the home where He is gdne. 
 
 6. Not in that poor, lonely stable, 
 
 With the oxen standing by, 
 We shall see Him ; but in Heaven, 
 bet at God's right hand on high. 
 When, like stars, His children crowned, 
 All in white biiall wait around. 
 
 iss 
 
 SFXTION X 
 I. 
 
 45. ROSA LEE. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ROSA wag not an agreeable » child. If we could have looked 
 mto her heart, we should have seen that it was not oiiite 
 tlio right shape. It was deep enough, but too narrow.^ We 
 should have seen a black streak running across it also. She waa 
 a melancholy ^ child. 
 
 ^. Her father had been a soldier, and had spent most of his 
 life m foreign * lands. Her moiher was almost always with him. 
 She hardly remembered her father and mother ; and now *' v 
 were both dead. Nobody lovod Rosa, and Rosa had never loved 
 anybody. 
 
 S. It waa very wrdng to say that; for G5d loved her, and her 
 Guardian Angel loved her also. Indeed, her Guardian Angel 
 was the only creature « who could ever keep his temper with her 
 
 ' A grSe' a ble, pleasant. 
 
 ' NSr' r5w, contracted ; long in 
 
 proportion to the widtli. 
 3 IWifJ' ,„ „• I Ji _i , , 
 
 spirited ; sad. 
 
 * PiSr' elgn, countries or nations 
 other Uian those of our native land. 
 
 ' v/teMt' ure, any thing created. 
 
134 
 
 1)0MINI0N t^OURTJt kEADER. 
 
 I 
 
 She had once had a little ddg, and he used to wag his tail, and 
 frisk round her, and fetch sticks and stones to her. But she 
 was so snappish ^ with him, that he gave it all up as useless, and 
 took to getting into a corner, out of her way, and sleeping all 
 the day long. 
 
 Jf. Have you begun already to hate little Rosa ? Well, then, 
 you are doing just what her good Angel did not do. You will 
 be lucky if your Angel does for you what Rosa's Angel did for 
 her. Poor Rosa ! her cousins were tirod enough of the gloomy ^ 
 orphan ; and so they had shipped ^ her 6ff to an iiuiit in South 
 Wales, without any notice but the letter which went by the 
 same ship. 
 
 5. When the voyage * had lasted about a week, a great storm 
 arose. The ship went down, and in that wild and stormy 
 night Rosa floated on the top of the dark waves, as if her white 
 frock, which was spread out on the waters, held her up. I was 
 going to say that she was thousands of miles away from home ; 
 but alas ! she had no hom^ in all the wide world. 
 
 6. Before her cousins sent her so far away, she had often 
 felt that their house was not exactly a home. She had got an 
 idea,^ from hearing story-books read, of what a mother was like, 
 and Idnged to have one. She made pic*^^ures in her mind of her 
 own mothei, and when she was by herself of a night, she used 
 to cry over these pictures, and wish she had a mother. 
 
 7. In her thoughts she painted her mother as a very power- 
 ful, beautiful, and kind fairy, far sweeter than any fairy that 
 ever danced by moonlight on the grass. Do you think she made 
 the picture too bright ? Oh, no ! you know well enough that a 
 real mother is far, far better than any fairy, even if there were 
 any fairies, and if they were all that in our fancy we could 
 make them. 
 
 8. Of that good Mother in Heaven, who loves all children for 
 the sake of Him who became her child for their sakes, I am 
 afraid our sad little Rosa thought very seldom ; for no one who 
 loves her dearly can be long unhappy. 
 
 > Sn&p'' pish, 
 manner. 
 
 a cross, jerking 
 * Qloom' y, dark ; sorrowf ul ; 
 
 ^ Shipped, put on board a vessel. 
 * Vojr' age, a journ j by sea. 
 ' I de' a, a thought ; ou iuiagi- 
 
 without nierriment. 
 
 nnfinn 
 
HOSA LEE. 
 
 1S6 
 
 II. 
 46. ROSA LEE. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 R^7hZi"'v'* "^^T ^"^ ^^'^' ^«^*^"^ "^« ^ ^hi^e speck on 
 U the black and stormy sea. The huge waves rose farabove 
 her he^ and cArled over, a.^. seemed every moment as if they 
 won d fall upon her, and sink herto the bottom. The wind and 
 the thunder roared agamst each other. The waves clashed with 
 a hissmg sound. The lightnings, red and blue, split the dark 
 clouds, and almost blinded her. 
 
 2, Eo^ was afraid. You will not wonder at that. She had 
 of/.n said her prayers before, and she made a short prayer now 
 But there was something in it, and she lelt that it was quite 
 different from any prayer she had ever made before 
 
 S. No sooner had it escaped her lips than her fear piissed 
 away, and she was as quiet on the tossing black waters as she 
 
 ^17%^!? ? ?\'"^*' ^"^y g^«« «f her own seaside com- 
 mon 1 Suddenly by her side a beautiful Angel seated himself. 
 He had m his hand a branch of a strange tree. Its leaves were 
 vey green, and the smell of them almost took her breath away 
 A. Rosa I my sister! I am with you," said the Angel.' 
 You must come with me." And he touched her with the 
 green leaves; and it seemed as if her breath went out of her 
 Ihen, taking hold of her hand, he drew her down with him 
 under the waters. There was no storm there ; but there was a 
 golden green light, which Rosa thought must come from the 
 Angel, but she did not know. 
 
 5. Tall trees grew there, and waved about in the water, 
 t^ome of the trees were green, some blue, some bright yellow 
 and some of rose-color. Some of the trees were more than a 
 mile high, and their leaves more than a hundred feet long 
 The grass was the color of roses, and graceful animals swam in 
 and out among these water-woods, and others rested on the 
 branches. 
 
 6. They sat down on the bright grass, and the Angel took 
 Rosas hand, and said to her, " I am your Guardian Angel, my 
 
 Com mrkti Ion/I rxt2r*>»<l l._ J. .-■« 
 
 , .„«(! „TO^^ „y ^ ^^^ ^j. vjjiage, iiot belonging to individuals 
 
136 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 little sister. God has 
 sent me from Heaven to 
 be by yQur side all 
 through your life, and 
 to do yQU i U the good 
 you will let me do you." 
 
 7. "Have you left 
 
 the grand Heaven," said Rosa, " to be with such a gloomy girl 
 a§ I am ? Evorybody dislikes me, and I am afraid that I dislike 
 everybody now." The Angel said, " Yes, dearest ! I have left 
 Heaven for your sake ; but I am never gloomy. I can not be, 
 because I always see G6d, and the sight of Go i i§ in itself the 
 Heaven of Heavens." 
 
 8. "Do you see God in these greeu waters?" said Rosa. 
 "Yes!" said the Angel. "But I see nothing," replied Rosa, 
 ** except those great trees and fining fi^eg. how beautiful 
 they are!" — "Yes! Ro§a," said the Angel; "but God doeg 
 not tTiink tt'em so beautiful a§ your soul.'' 
 
ROSA LEE. 
 
 187 
 
 iJ ^ ^^. ''^'' ''''* ^^''^ ^y ««^^J i* i« «« nau^Atyi and 
 8ulky.2 The servant at school u§ed to say that she was sure my 
 soul was as black a. a coal."-- But, Rosa, God byes it with a 
 great love, and placed me near yo. at your birth. I have 
 always loved you, and it fills me with joy to be near you." 
 
 III. 
 47. ROSA LEE. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 p OSA began to cry, and a^ she w6pt it seemed as if she were 
 
 ± V weepmg her old heart out, and as if the golden lig' t 
 
 of the Angel w.nt into her, and began turning itself into a new 
 
 heart for her. I think it was being spoken kindly to which 
 
 made her cry, because she had never been used to it. She said, 
 
 0, dear Angel ! I have got a new heart." 
 ,/; ^"^.*]f Angel laughed, and his laugh sounded hke hun- 
 dreds of httle silver bells, and it made her more meny and gay 
 tlmn she had ever been before in her life, and at the same time 
 so gentle and kind that it seemed to ler aa if she could laugh 
 
 AnJ'I-f- *. «^"^V*i°^« for very joy. "Rosa!" said the 
 Angel, It IS true you have got a new heart; but I think you 
 have new eyes as well." ^ 
 
 , ?• ^"^ ^ look®^ about her; and behold! all things were 
 changed ! There was a happy look of love in the fishes' eyes 
 which she had not seen before. When they waved their tails 
 
 deT'o ^""^^ ^' ^^^'""^^ "^ '^ ^^^'"^ ^'^^ '^^^' *^^* '* ^^ ^^1 
 
 4. She saw that the great sea swung to and fro, as if it could 
 
 not keep itself still, because it was so full of joy. This was 
 
 Kosas first lesson. It was a grand school, though rather a 
 
 lunny one— that curious a bottom of the huge « sea. 
 
 r^. Morning was rising over the great wood. Rosa and her 
 Angel were hying in the air. They had risen up out of the 
 
 rest, as If It was a good stout cushion. It would almost have 
 
 ' Naugh'ty. iU-beharftd, 
 
 • Sulk'y, sullen ; ill-tempered. 
 
 •• Ou'ri ou«, Bingular ; Btrffnge. 
 ' Hufte, of immenBe Bize or extent. 
 

 1S8 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READI 7. 
 
 made yQU wild with joy if you could have heard how the wood 
 rang with the sdngs of the birds as the sun rose that morning. 
 
 6. Birds are the most joyous of creatures, perhaps because 
 they are nearest heaven. What struck Rosa most was that, 
 watching them as they flew, she saw a silver hand round each 
 of them, the fingers closing over their soft feathers, bat not 
 quite touching, only ready to rest them when they were tired. 
 
 7. And when they crdssed the sea, she saw Angels holding up 
 the tips of their wings, lest they should fall. And she knew that 
 the hand was the Hand of God their Father ; and then she did 
 again what she had learned to do at the bottom of the sea- 
 laughed and cried at the same time. 
 
 8. Times and places were changed now. Rosa and the Angel 
 were living among the insects. This was the strangest of the 
 worlds she had seen. It was the least, and yet it was the 
 strongest It could destroy the world of men if God did not 
 keep' it down. Most of the insects dwell in nations and cities, 
 with kings and queens, and they never stop talking; some 
 talked with tongues, and some by making their wings whirr and 
 buzz, and some by tickling each other's faces with long feelers, 
 or pliant * horns. ! they were a merry lot ! 
 
 9. Yet it was somewhat strange they should be so, because 
 millions of them were dying every moment. Every breath of 
 dir that blew, 6v6ry drop of rain that fell, every animal that 
 passed by, killed them by myriads." But they did not mourn. 
 Rosa would perhaps nave loved them better if they had mourned. 
 As it was, they seemed to her more mSrry than loving, clever ^ 
 rather than kind. But they were always busy, and it was this 
 perhaps which made them happy. 
 
 10. One day, when Rosa and the Angel had been living for 
 some time in a wasp's nest, and she saw how unselfish the 
 wasps were to each other, and how they were all trying to help 
 one another, she said, « dear Angel ! how full this wasp's nest 
 is of the love and joy of God ! And Angel ! Angel! we peo- 
 ple on garth are kind to so few, and so hUexi unkind to the few 
 to whom we re'ally wish to be kind! " Rosa wept as she spoke. 
 
 ' Pll'ant, that may be easily bent. 
 * Sayr'i ad, a very large number. 
 
 *018v'er, ingenious ; knowing; 
 
KOSA LEE. 
 
 139 
 
 and then looked at the wasps and smiled. But this time the 
 laughmg and the erying did not go together. "" 
 
 U. It v^^ noonday on the green plains of Asia. Rosa and 
 the Angel ^ero living among the bCaets. She wts venlSeh 
 mpressed ■ by what she saw of them. What tonXd he- m»^ 
 was the love the mothers had for their young. The beTte 
 
 Zf S^bot'tt '^-^ ''■^ '■^ thif in their d?ep 
 it ™ f"*'. *'*""' "". she read it in their eyes. To be snre 
 
 ioe camel 8 eye made her langh, because it looked as if th« 
 beast^vas go.ng to make a joke, but was puzzled it to do ij 
 
 tent 0„ .he;„.e, T^CgrthrSil'^:^ Ti^X 
 tefrr"T;''"' ■''*f.l;''"W°"^ Andshellked^tm 
 
 I see, on all God's earth there is nothing gloomy" ^ ^' 
 
 IV. 
 48. ROSA LEE, 
 
 , PART FOURTH. 
 
 T-HEN the Angel said, "Rosa, we have done wiHi Garth- 
 
 ' Im pr«s8', to cause to feel strongly. 
 
UO 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 
 5. She saw into the inside of one Angel'g spirit, and ttiough 
 ^e wa§ at so great a distan9e that ^e €ould not see elearly, it 
 seemed to her that there wa§ in that one spirit sudh ocean§ of 
 joy, a§ would have drowned a thousand world§, if it eould have 
 been poured out over them. When ^e had looked for a long 
 while, ^e turned away, weeping and not smiling, and said, "It 
 i§ too bright. I feel all black myself While I look at it." 
 
 4, Then the Angel ^owed her a golden seat between two 
 Angels, and a§ he blew gently on the mist, ^e saw plainly that 
 her name wa§ written on the seat, and that, if ^e always loved 
 God, that wa§ to be her home, and the dear Angels were singing 
 the song^ ih -y would sing to welcome her When her hour 
 
 ^ould €ome. 
 
 6. And ^e fell back, saying, « It i§ too mudh love: it i§ too 
 much joy. dear Angel ! Luke lue back to life. I do not eare 
 
ANTONY CAN OVA, 
 
 141 
 
 to\lTtn t rf i^-''^ ^"^ ^"^''^ ^^'3^ ^*°* ^ ^ kind 
 to them to be kind always and to everybody. It is thus only I 
 can be happy henceforth." » fnus omy 1 
 
 6. Years passed away. One evening the snn shone out over 
 a green h,l side m South Wales. A funeral wo. winding along 
 the road which led to the little grave-yard. In the centJof 
 
 ho 1 "^nn ''"^ f '''''' "^^ *^« P'^^ ^-« thronged wi« 
 the poor. Old Men leaning on sticks, women bent with age 
 children, rough, grown-up shepherd-lads, and stout men-S[ 
 were here, in tears and sorrow. The priest himself was weeping 
 hnl' • /'f ?r ' ^''"''^^- ^^' ^^^ g^"^" "P in So'^th Wales, 
 
 of kindness. There was scarcely one of that great multitude 
 present who had not in some way felt her aid,Tnd now, close 
 upon^ a hundred years of age, she had died, belov;d and 2^ 
 
 hpf «l^T f .^' 'tl"^^ ^^"^^ ^* ^^ ^^' ki°d°««« n^ore than 
 her alms that they thought of. They were now taking to her 
 
 but her An^'l rr."^'^'/'", ^^^^"^y ^^"^' *« ^^h«- -o one 
 but her Angel had been kind; but whom at last they had 
 
 named « The Kind Lady." ^ ^ 
 
 SECTION XL 
 
 I. 
 
 49. AJ^TOMY CAJSrOVA. 
 
 /^ ANOVA 1 first saw the light of day in the littlf Venetian' 
 \^ village of Po8sagno.3 Falieri^ the senator wag lord of 
 this village One day he gave a great di.ner, and iLre Z 
 
 in butter ' ^"''*^ *^' ''"'^' ""^ ^ "^'^^ beautifully formed 
 
 ^. This unexpecteii dish gave as much surprise to the senator 
 
 ^ to his numeroL. guests. He ordered his cook to come up 
 
 stmrs^ that he might congratu late ' him in presence of the 
 
 ' Oanova (kS nO' va). ^"^^^~ '■ 
 
 V e ne'tian. of, or <)ertain;n^ t^i 
 
 Venice, a fortified city of Italy." 
 
 3 Possagno (pos sSn' yo). 
 
 JT u£2Caa (la 16 tt' re), 
 <• Oon /frSt'u late, to wieh joy to. 
 
142 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 party, so much pleased was he with the marvelous * W( rk of 
 ari The cook was introduced into the banqueting-hall, and 
 was so overwhelmed with congratulations, that the tears came 
 into his eyes. 
 
 3, *•' Yqu weep for joy ? " said his mfiater to him. " No, my 
 lord," he replied ; " it is tlirgugh despdir at not having executed 
 the work of art which is the object of so mucli admiration." 
 
 4. "I should like to make the artist's'' acquaintance," said 
 tiie senator. The cook withdrew, assuring his master that his 
 wish would be gratified ; and in a few minutes retiimed, leading 
 in the artist. 
 
 6. He was a little peasant-boy, about ton years old, meanly 
 clad, for his pArents were poor. Poor as they were, however, 
 these worthy people had ex]x)sed themselves to great straits,^ 
 rather than deny to their son lessons in the art of sculpture * 
 which a professor had given for a v(5ry moderate fee. 
 
 6. Antony Ciino'va had 6arly exhibited " a str6ng faculty ^ for 
 sta' 4ary. He modeled '' clay when he could get it, and, with 
 the help of his knife, carved little figures out of all the chips of 
 wood he could lay his hands on. 
 
 7. His parents w(5re acquainted with the cook of Senatoi 
 Falieri. On the morning of the great dinner, he came to im- 
 part the diflBculty he had in giving a graceful finish to the 
 table. He had exhausted all the resources of his skill and 
 imagination ; ^ but he still wanted one of those efiective ^ dishes, 
 capable of producing a great sensationj^" which rear on a solid 
 basis the reputation " of the cook of a great house. 
 
 ' Mar'vel oils, strange ; wonder- 
 ful ; Burprising. 
 
 'Ar'tist, one who is skilled in 
 Bome one of the fine aria, as paint- 
 ing, sculpture, &c. 
 
 * Strait, diflBculty ; distress. 
 
 * Sculpt'iire, the art of carving, 
 cutting, or hewing wood or stone 
 into images or figures, as of men, 
 beasts, or other things. 
 
 " Exhibited (egz hib'it ed), held 
 forth or presented to view ; dis- 
 played. 
 
 A V-IV-/ — 1 i — "i- i-1^ 
 
 '' Mfid'eled, molded ; shaped ; 
 formed into a pattern. 
 
 ^ Im S^'i na'^tion, the image-mak- 
 ing power of the mind ; the power 
 to put in new forms objects of sense 
 before noticed or seen. 
 
 • Ef fSct'ive, having the power, 
 or suited, to produce effects. 
 
 '" Sen sa'tion, feeling awakened 
 by whatever affects nn organ of 
 sense ; a state of excited feeling. 
 
 " R^p'u ta'tion, the character 
 given to a person, thing, or action ; 
 good name. 
 
ANTONY CANOVA. 
 
 US 
 
 -nn^^?.™u, ^^^'""^ ^^"Sht for a minute, and then said: 
 "Do not trouble yourself; I shall soon come to you. Leave i 
 
 plete. The boy went as he had promised to the senator's 
 house showed the cook the design i of the figure which he 
 meant to execute, answered for the success of the attempt, and 
 
 ' it.'. ^\"^'?'^' ^•^'^ '^'^' P"^'*^«f imagination and 
 perfer^ ^aste, which he afterwards displayed in cutting blocks of 
 
 p. Surprised as the guests had been by the work, they were 
 much more so when they beheld the workman. He Z 
 oaded with attentions, and from this time forth, Falieri Z 
 the patron ^ of the young Cano'va. 
 
 10. The happy result of the first attempt of the little peasant- 
 boy suddenly made his name famous, and opened upfo^ht 
 he road to permanent success. Falieri placed him as a pupU 
 n the studio of the best sculptor of the time. Two 3 
 after-that is to say, when Canovii w.^ only twelve years of age 
 -he sent to his patron a gift of two marble fruit-baskete of !S 
 own workmanship, of remarkable merit, which still adorn the 
 Fahen palace at Venice. 
 
 tofts^'"''-''!" ^''T ^^«^^^«^^ *li« claims of this great artist 
 to the uumiration of posterity.^ All the academies of EuroiL 
 ohcited the honor of enrolling him among their members. A^ 
 the kings vied with each other in enriching their nationa 
 mu|e urns ^ with the beautiful products of his genius.« 
 T.f: .Z"^ elected Prince-perpetual of the Academy of St. 
 L ke at Rome, and the Holy Father confen-ed upon him the 
 
 la r Af T'/ ^f^^ '"^ " P^"^^^'^ «^ *^ree thousand dol! 
 T L ^^' ^'^/'f V^' monument which he had designed ior 
 Titian was dedicated to his own memory at Venice ; !„d an- 
 
 oi'tiieipitr'^^ ""' ''''''"'' ^^^ ^'^ ^"- ^^ ^^^ 
 
 4ss tLx^ t?ri Pf T,^"!*^ ^'^ '' ^^^"'^d by nature ; tl.e high 
 - ra-u «e-u,„, a place where curi- kinds of labor! " " " '""" 
 
lU 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 II. 
 60, BEMJAMLK WEST. 
 
 I PART FIRST. 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST was born in Springfield, Pennsylvania, 
 in tlic your 1738. Some of his ancestors had won great 
 renown in the old wars of England and France. But their 
 fame was destined to be eclipsed by his, since he has gained a 
 more lasting name in the world of art than they did on the 
 field of battle. 
 
 2. Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years without doing 
 any thing worthy to be told in history. But one summer after- 
 noon, in his seventh year, his mother put a fan into his hand, 
 and bJlde him keep the flies ilwuy from the face of a little babe 
 that Ifiy fdst asleep in the cradle. She then left the room. 
 
 3. The boy waved the fan to and fro, and drove ilway the 
 buzzing flies whenever they came near the baby's face. When 
 they had ail flown out of the window, or into distant parts of 
 the room, ho bent over the cradle, and delighted himself with 
 gazing at the sleeping infant. 
 
 ^ It was, indeed, a V(5ry pretty sight. The little personage 
 in the cradle slumbered peacefully, with its waxen ^ hands under 
 its chin, looking as full of blissful ^ quiet as if angels wCre sing- 
 ing lullabies in its ear. Indeed, it must have been dreaming 
 about heaven ; for, while Ben stooped over the cradle, the little 
 baby smiled. 
 
 5. " How beautiful she looks I " said Ben to himself. " What 
 a pity it is that such a pretty smile should not last forever 1 " 
 Now, Ben, at this period of his life, had h6ard but little of that 
 wcnderful art by which a look, that appears and vanishes in a 
 moment, may be made to last for hundreds of years. But, 
 though nobody had told him of such an art, he may be said to 
 have invented it for himself. 
 
 6. On a table near at hand th^re were pens and paper, and 
 ink of two colors, black and red. The boy seized a pen and 
 sheet of "'', and kneeling down beside the cradle, began to 
 
 ' WaKen (w&k'sn), made of was : 
 wa^-likc — u6uce, soft ; yieidiug. 
 
 ' Bliss'ful, happy in the highest 
 degree ; f uU of joy. 
 
BENyAM/N WEST. 
 
 146 
 dr»w a likeness of the infant. While he was busied in this 
 
 At first Ben was unwilling to toll ; for he felt as if there mS 
 
 trrXTerr ''^"""« ''''"''^'''-^' """ ^^^ 
 J. However, as his mother insisted, he linally put the sketch 
 mto her hand, and then hung his head, expeeting to b^ well 
 ^ohled. But when the good lady saw whatT,^ fnThe paL 
 Ind "g^L: joy' "■"' """" ^"" *» ""«« ' " --™ of l^S 
 
 9. " Bless me I " cried she. « It is a pietnre of little Sallv I » 
 And hen she threw her arms areund our friend Ben 1^^^ 
 kissed him so tenderly that he never Mterward w^ Zid to 
 show his performances to his mother. 
 
 ift As Ben grew older he was observed to take v4st dell„l,f 
 m looking at the hues ' and forms of nature. For [i^n^L 
 was greatly pleased with the blue violets of ajSng the ;i?d 
 aTuU' "■""""• ""-^ "^^ ^''' eardinal-Jwerfi S^^rf^ 
 
 gated < with »lffh""° 1°' ^l y^''^^<^^ the wo-ods were vane- 
 
 r4tr tit Cf J^^^^^^^ ^rz^ ^t. 
 
 mountains, houses, cattle, geose, ducks, and tlkelrwUh a 
 piece of chalk, on bam doors or on the fl;or. ^^ * " 
 
 oust Pe Zlal'™?' *"' """"'' '■""""^ ^"^ ««» ""■»»- 
 
 W tlrrSLre^Th''' "!?;■-»' of their ancesS 
 
 IK and «.ia:*:^X^ajpX'i"';ro:r I'S 
 
 ' Oar' di n^ fl ' / ^^°* ^^^^- 
 
UG 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ,XA>t/f^f^- 
 
 and yCllow paint with Wliidh they were accustomed to addrn 
 their faQcs. 
 
 13. His mother, too, presented him with & pieQO of indigo. 
 Thus he ' ow had three €61or5— red, blue, and yc^llow— and 
 could manufacture green by mixing tlie yellow witti the blue. 
 Our friend Ben wa§ overjoyed, and doubtless ^owcd hi§ grati- 
 tude to the Indians by taking their likent'sses in the strange 
 dresse§ Vhidh they wore, witli featiiers, tomahawks,* and bows 
 and arrow§. 
 
 ' TSm' a hawk, an Indian Latdhet. 
 
^s^NyAMw West. 
 
 147 
 
 III. 
 
 SI. BEMTAMIJ^ WEST. 
 
 PART SECO..X 
 
 «. With this desi.^1,0 w, , ,r '"'""^'^ '" •>'"•««"« 
 
 Why upon » -s.o:M':ik':r:it,''''^"" ['■'»''' 
 
 q-etly by the flrceido. "Pw» L,l li,H i' "f ''""P'-K 
 "Pmy give me some - the fSm Th« f ", ^" *" ""^ "'"' 
 * Though Ben c, Z,i TI , , , ''P "' J'"'"' toil ? " 
 
 det.^mi„ed^o I,:;; , 7t^:^T '; ' "• """^' ^^' •'« -« 
 
 P>™, who had no areat zlalf ![ '''.' '"'"' """"^ <"• "ot 
 resisted if8heco,Ud -Tut the L '"^' ""»''' ''»™ 
 
 pi- sr - ---^ -^ - - :^r.rf 
 
 into the chim„ey^rrra,T!' d r"" ""T" '" ^'™P "'«»» 
 look. But Ben consWorod it it. ? ^"^ "^"f"" 
 
 have paint h™hesthau"^ftp„::hUrr;ir "" '""""^ 
 ^. About this Derirjfl Tl^^'a ft,+u ' . ^^"^' 
 
 Pennington, a mChant ^M^lr:; " ""' '™'" **'• 
 esteemed friend of the West arnHv tk ■ f"^ "" ""'' ""'' 
 the parlor, was surprised Tn» J i^^' ^^ "'"■"'■' «" entering 
 
 indiL chWa,a„dTf to^;Tth\:rt7';'f "''■' """""^"^ 
 
 ' Ino-anJ^.i. /j_ .- , : r ■ ■ . " 
 
 or'n'°^w°"* (injen'jaa). skillful 
 or^quick to invent or contrive 
 
 'unffwir'"^^'^^™^"^-'^"^- 
 
 ful ; sorrowful. 
 ^Plum'age, the collection of 
 plumes or feathers whicL cover a 
 bird. 
 
 - Fo3 abased', induced ; caused. 
 
us 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 these pictures? Wh^re did you get them?" Then Ben's 
 father explained that all these pictures were painted by his 
 little son, with no better materials than red and ydllow oeher * 
 and a piece of indigo, and with brushes made of the black 
 cat's f Ar. 
 
 7. " Indeed," said Mr. Pennington, " the boy has a wonderful 
 faculty. Some of our friends might look upon these matters as 
 childish; but little Benjamin appears to have been bom a 
 painter; an ^. Providence is wiser than we are." The good* mer- 
 chant patted Benjamin on the head, and evidently 2 considered 
 him a wonderful boy. 
 
 8. When his pdrents saw how much their son's performances ^ 
 w6re admired, they could not help being proud of him ; and 
 they began to hope that some day he might have an opportunity 
 to cultivate the genius which he displayed at so early an ago. 
 
 9. One evening, shortly after Mr. Pennington's retiirn to 
 Philadelphia, a package arrived at Springfield, directed to our 
 little friend Ben. " What can it possibly be ? " thought Ben, 
 when it was put into his hands. " Who can have sent me such 
 a great square package as this ? " 
 
 10. On taking 6flf the thick brown paper which enveloped* 
 it, behold I \ re was a paint-box, with a great many cakes of 
 paint, and bi ashes of various sizes. It was the gift of good Mr. 
 Pennington. There were likewise several squares of canvas, 
 such as artists use for painting pictures upon, and, in addition 
 to all these treasures, some beautiful engravings of landscapes. 
 These were the first pictures that Ben had ever seen, except 
 those of his own drawing. 
 
 11. What a joyful evening was this for the little artist ! At 
 bed-time he riut the paint-box under his pillow, and got hardly 
 a wink of sleep ; for, aii night 16ng, his fancy was painting 
 pictures in the darkness. In the morning he hurried to the 
 garret, and was seen no more, till the dinner hour ; nor did he 
 give himself time to eat more than a moufnful or two of iwA 
 before he hurried back to the garret again. 
 
 12. The next day, and the next, he was just as busy as ever; 
 
 > O'cher, a kind of fine clay of * Per form' an ces, production?, 
 various colors. * En vSl'oped, surroundbd aa a 
 
 * Ev'i dent ly, easily seen; clearly, covering. 
 
BENyAMIN WEST, 249 
 
 wf iboJf 'sh^'*^^' ^^^^' '' '^' '^ '-^^certaini what he 
 w^§ about She accordingly followed him to the garret 
 
 i.?. On opening the door, the first object that presented itself 
 a Deautiful picture. He had copied portions of two of fhp 
 
 s;:"?ki,uh Tf ""? "''"''"■""" »' "«"' '^" ' ^^ 
 
 mmblei skill that it was far more beautiful tlian the originals » 
 
 TdThe hMfiw f T"" •"'"'• ^''^'^' *"'"' ^™''' 'he sunshine 
 ana tne shMow, looking as natural as life. 
 
 mother. The good lady was in an ecstasy' of delight And 
 w 1 might she be proud of her boy ; for then= were tonehes if 
 th:s p eture whieh ,. d artists, wlio had spent a lifettoe rtho 
 business^ need not have been ashamed of. Many a y"ar after 
 
 S;^yir„r' ^™^"^""" -- -hihited^trE^s 
 
 IV. 
 S^, BEJ^JAMIJ\r WEST. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 VI^ELL time went on, and Benjamin continued to draw 
 V V and paint pictures, until he had now reached the aJI 
 when it was proper that ho should choose a busTness fir hfe 
 
 their sin""' ""''" ""^ ^^ ^^^^^^^"^^« P-P'^^^^ about 
 J. Aocording to their ide'a§, it was not right for people to 
 
 aa/antage to the world. Now, what advantage could the 
 world expect from Benjamin's pictures ? ^ 
 
 ;?. This was a difficult question; and, in order to set their 
 ^^^at^^est^his^di^ts^rmined to consult thdr Idred 
 
 ' As cer tain', find out or learn 
 make certain. 
 
 '[ Ad'ml ra ble, woithy to be ad- 
 mired ; having qualities to awaken 
 wonder joined witti affection or 
 agreeable fee?ings. 
 
 * O rt^i nal, that which came be 
 
 fore all others of its cl&ss ; first copy] 
 * Ec'sta sy, very great and over- 
 
 mistering joy ; a being beside one's 
 
 self with excitement. 
 " Per plSx'i \.% a troubled or un. 
 
 "•t^iix oiatc ui uuna ; «ijuimrra6a 
 
 meat ; doubt, . 
 
150 
 
 DO Af INI ON FOUNTH READER. 
 
 m 
 
 and th6ir most intimate neighbors. Accordingly, they all as- 
 sembled witii their friends and neighbors, and discussed * the 
 matter in "11 its asjxjcts. 
 
 4. Finally, they came to a vi^ry wise decision. It seemed so 
 evident that Providence had created Benjamin to be a painter, 
 and had given him abilities which would be thrown nway in 
 any other business, that every one resolved not to opijoso hi.s 
 wishes. They even acknowledged that the sight of a bcautilul 
 picture might convey instruction to the mind, and might 
 benefit the heart as much as a good book or a wise discourse. 
 
 5. They thCrefSro committed the youth to the dirtletion of 
 Cod, being well ass\}rod that He best knew what wa5 his jn-oper 
 tjphere of usefulness. The old men laid their hands upon Ben- 
 jamin's head and gave him their blessing, and the women 
 kissed him affectionately. All consented that he should go 
 forth into the world, and lOarn to bo a i)ainter by studying the 
 lu'st pic^linvs of ancient and modern times. 
 
 6\ So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his pdrents, 
 and his native woods and streams, and the good pcoi)le of 
 HiH-inglleld, and the Indians who had given him his first colors; 
 he left all the places and persons that he had hitherto known, 
 and returned to them no more. lie went first to Philadelphia, 
 and iVfterward fo Eurojje. Here ho was noticed by many great 
 iwople, but rekined all the sobriety " and simplicity which he 
 had learned in his childhood. 
 
 7. When ho was twenty-five years old, ho went to London, 
 and established himself there as an artist. In due course of 
 time, he acquired great fame by his pictures, and was made 
 chief painter to King George III., and president of the lloyal 
 Academy of Arts. 
 
 8. When the people of Pennsylvania hCard of his success, 
 they felt that the early hopes of his parents Jis to little Ben's 
 future eminence were now accomplished. It is triie they shook 
 their heads at his pictures of battle and bloodshed, such as the 
 Death of AVolfe, thinking that these terrible scenes should not 
 be held up to the admiration of the world. 
 
 d. But they approved of the great paintings in which he 
 
 ' Dis ciissed', exaniiaed fully in » So bri'e ty, the habit of sober- 
 all its parts ; argued. uijeti or icni|)erauce ; calmness. 
 
BENyAMIN WEST. 
 
 161 
 
 mankind. IJo w,^ ultorward om,,loyod to udorn a lar™ and 
 
 XI "" ™" '^"'""' *"*' P'»t"- "f the: ™"d 
 
 7ft lie likewise painted a magnificent » pictaro of Our Lord 
 ealmg the Sick, which he gave to the h6s,Ll at Pl^iladClS 
 t wa« ejlubited to the public, and produced m much prnfl 
 
 ,, .■'■'■ Jf .P<^"J'"' n West had done no other good deed than 
 Hu», y«t ,t woyld have hcen enough to cntitie'^him Tan hon" 
 orablc renicmbranec forever. At thia very day there are thirtv 
 ZJ7^ "■" "^^'•""■' ^"° «« »" thei?oomforto";2 
 1«. We shall mention only a single incident more. The plc- 
 tu,-e of Our Lord Healing the Sick was exhibited at the Koyal 
 Aculemy .n London, where it covered a vast space, andl^ 
 aycd a m„l Made of flgu,^s as large as life. On tre wa 
 ose bes.do h,s M'mimblo picture, hung a small and f3 
 hndscapc. It was the same that little Ben had painted in hfa 
 fther's garret, after reeeiviug the paint-bo. and engrlvi g 
 Iroiii good Mr. Pennington. ^ ^ 
 
 1820 ^Th^!'«?- "'^7, ^T. '"^ P'*^'° ^"^ ^«"«^' ^"d died in 
 1820. The story of h.s ],fe is almost as wonderful as a f^iiry 
 
 t. Ic , lor thore are few stranger transformations* than that of 
 a htle unknown farmer's boy, in the wilds of Ameriea into the 
 most distmgnished English painter of his day. 
 
 U. Let us each make the best use of our natural abilities as 
 IJonjamin West did; and, with the blessing of GOd w sha' 
 amve at some good end. As for fume,» it mutters bl IMe 
 whether we acquire it or not. ® 
 
 ' Mir'a cle, a M^onder ; an event 
 or effect contrary to the known lawa 
 <»f nature. 
 
 I OhSp'el, a lesser place of wor- 
 «''ip ; a small church ; a place of 
 worship not connected with a church. 
 
 ' Mag nif i cent, on a large scale ■ 
 grand in appearance. 
 
 < TrSns'for ma'Uon, change of 
 form, substance, or condition. 
 
 • Fame, public report ; renown ' 
 the condition of being celebrate4, ' 
 
 IM 
 
152 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 
 SECTION XII. 
 I. 
 
 53, AUTUMM. 
 
 SEPTEMBER has come. The fierce heat of snnimer is 
 gdne. Men are at work in the fields cutting down the 
 ySllow grain, and binding it up into sheaves. The fields of 
 com stand in thick ranks, heavy with ears ; and, as their tassels 
 and broad leaves rattle in the wind, they seem to whisper of 
 plenty. 
 
 2. The boughs of the orchard hang low with the red and 
 golden fruit. Laughing boys are picking up the purple plums 
 and the red-cheeked aj)pk'§ that have fallen in the high grass. 
 Large, rich melons are on the garden vines, and sweet grapes 
 hang in clusters by the wall. 
 
 S. The larks with tlieir black and yellow breasts stand watch- 
 ing you on the close-mown meadow. As you come near, they 
 spring up, fly a little distance, and light again. The robins 
 that 16ng ago left the gardens, feed in flocks upon the red 
 berries of the sumac, and the s6ft-eyed pigeons are with them 
 to claim their share. The lazy blackbirds follow the cows and 
 pick up crickets and other insects that they start up with their 
 large hoofs. 
 
 4. The leaves fade. The ash-trees grow crimson in color. 
 The twigs of the birch ttirn yellow, and the leaves of the ches^ 
 nut are brown. The maple in the valley has lost its bright 
 green, and the leaves are of the hue of gold. 
 
 5. At noon, the air is still mild and soft. You see blue smoke 
 6flf by the distant wood and hills. The brook is almost dry. 
 The water runs over the pebbles with a s6ft, low murmur. 
 The golden-rod is on ibe hill, the aster by the brook, and the 
 sunflower in the garden. 
 
 6. The twitter of the birds is still heard. The sheep bh'at 
 upon the brown hill-side, and the s6ft tinkle of their bell floats 
 upon the air. The merry whistle of the plow-boy comes up 
 from the field, and the cow lows in the distant pasture. 
 
 7. As the sun sinks in the October smoke, the low, south 
 
 wiuu CiuCpa over the dry tree-tops, 
 
 auu 
 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 153 
 
 t7:i ITht f rnf H ^' ^"^ ^^^'^ ^^^^^' -d 1--, and 
 .gone, but hi§ bright beam§ still linger in the west Thnn 
 
 got tlieir Share of tiie nuts. squi.rdj „ ih uu «ure to 
 
164 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 
 - II. 
 
 64. BIRDS IJ^ SUMMER. 
 
 How pleasant the life of a bird muj^t be, 
 Flitting about in each leafy tree : 
 In the leafy trees so broad and tall, 
 Like a green and beautiful palace hall, 
 Witli its Airy chambers, light and boon,* 
 That open to sun and stars and moon, 
 That open unto the bright blue sky, 
 And the frolicsome winds as they wander by! 
 
 2. They have left their nests in the ffirest bough, 
 Those homes of delight they need not now ; 
 And the young and the old they wander out, 
 And traverse ' their green world round about ; 
 And hark 1 at the, top of this leafy hall, 
 How one to the other they lovingly call : 
 « Come up, come up 1" they seem ix) say, 
 " Where the topmost twigs in the breezes sway I" 
 
 8. « Come up, come up I for the world is fAir, 
 
 Where the m6rry leaves dance in the summer Air." 
 
 And the birds below give back the cry, 
 
 « We come, we come to the branches high! '* 
 
 How pleasant the life of a bird must be. 
 
 Flitting about in a leafy tree ; 
 
 And away thrgugh the air what joy to go, 
 
 And to look on the green bright earth below ! 
 
 4. How pleasant the life of a bird must be. 
 Skimming about on the breezy sea. 
 Cresting the billows like silvery foam. 
 And then wheeling away to its cliff-built home! 
 What joy it must be, to sail, upborne 
 By a str6ng free wing, through the rosy m6rn. 
 To meet the young sun face to face, 
 And pierce like a sh&ft the boundless space! 
 
 » Poon, gajr ; merry. 
 
 ' "Jirav ©niej wauU< « ovey. 
 
 I 
 
BIRDS IN SUMMER. 
 
 155 
 
 ^ ^'^'^'?.^"* ^^ l^f^ of a bird must be 
 Wherever it list6fh,ttiere to flee: ' 
 
 TogoVhenajoyfulfan^ycallg, 
 Da^H^adown'mongttie waterfall?, 
 
 I^ov. . kT ^^^* ^^* ^*« '"-^es at play, 
 Above and below, and among tbe spray ^ 
 
 A§ the laughing mfrth of a ro§y diild I 
 e. Wh^t a joy it must be, like k living breeze 
 To flutter about 'mdng the flowerK' 
 Ljghtly to soar, and to see ben^aB,^ ^' 
 liie H^astes of the blossoming pftrple heath, 
 
I 
 
 166 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 And the yCllow fArae, like fields of gold, 
 That gladden some fairy region old ! 
 On mountain tops, on the billowy sea. 
 On the leafy stems of the fSrest tree, 
 How pleasant the life of a bird must be I 
 
 III. 
 55. HELPmG THE BIRDS. 
 
 A 
 
 LL day I have been hunting 
 For ends of scarlet bunting, 
 For pieces out of rag-bags, whose colors make a show — 
 Fragments of red, or az'ure. 
 Bright bits of doll-house treasure, 
 And faded bows and ribbons worn many years ago. 
 
 2. From sill and from projection 
 I hang this gay collection, 
 
 I strew the lawn and garden path, I fringe each bush and tree, 
 
 I dress the door and casement. 
 
 The garret and the basement. 
 Then watch to see if birds, perchan9e,* wiU use my charity. 
 
 3. There comes a pretty chatter. 
 There comes a fairy patter 
 
 Of tiny feet upon the roof and branches hanging low. 
 
 And flirts of wing and feather, 
 
 And little strifes together. 
 And sheers ' and flights and flutterings and wheelings to and fro, 
 
 4. There is a dash of scarlet 
 On y6nder s§ucy varlet,^ 
 
 And this one, just beside me, is dressed in blue and gray ; 
 
 This one is golden color. 
 
 And that one's coat is duller. 
 And here's a bird whose crest and tail have drange tippings gay. 
 
 ' Per chance', perhaps. The word is here applied to birds 
 
 * Sheers, turnings to one side and on account of their colors, as ser- 
 
 another. vants in European countries are 
 
 
 f-t)^ 
 
 
San- yosE ^^y 
 
 S. A shAdow and a flutter! 
 
 o xt. • ^ ^^^^ **^^® ^^^ shutter I 
 
 See th,8 swift oriole that wheels about the window, here I 
 
 Now flitting sidewise shyly, 
 
 Now, with approaches wily. 
 Circling and circling closer, between desire and fear. 
 
 ^. Oh, pirates, dressed in feathers, 
 
 Careless of winds or weathers, 
 How you begin to plunder, how bold you all have grown • 
 
 How each among the number 
 
 His claws and beak will cumber. 
 And carry off the strings and mgs as though they were his own. 
 
 7. The stock is fast drm^nished. 
 And when the neste are finished. 
 The nests of onoles and wrens, of robins and of jays, 
 in pleasant summer leisures 
 
 Swin„ •. J^^ ^^^""^ *''^ rag-bag's treasures 
 
 Swing in the wind and sunshine above the gard.n ways. 
 
 IV. 
 S6. SAJSr JOSE, 
 
 A^Y^Ff ^ I ''**^'*' ^ ^^^^^ ' and seel the first pa^e is 
 headed and bordered with charming views of-of!SM 
 those Spanish names! How can I tell whatVh; Lt;:?'^' ' 
 2. Patience, my little sister ! perhaps I can heln von Th« 
 W : d^?b t ^^^^ '' ' T^^ Vsqua:e\fte;tOn?^^ 
 
 cTrnTlri; t ^ ' ■"'' I'o'n'ni^ns.andJSsOite, all of whom 
 ^"ll^'^^ltotacoant.y, ha,c loft the only Chri tian M 
 
 ^ ' San Juan (sfin yfh&u). 
 
 ' San .TnaiA ^<i«.. l.-/-v_v 
 
168 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 which wo can boaat. Indeed, they make one of the chief attrac- 
 tions to the traveler in Califdmia and Texas. 
 
 6. « We seem to be in some highly civilis^ed country when wo 
 stand before these mission churches— churches which were built 
 at the same time as the ugly ones we see at the East. They 
 prove that the priests, who came as missionaries, were pdlished 
 schGlars— men of taste as well as of piety. 
 
 Ci. " They also prove that these scholars did not treat the In- 
 dians as savages who could never be civilized. Instffad of this, 
 they did every thing in their power to teach them the arts of 
 Christian nations. 
 
 7. "This church of San Jos6, with its monastery or convent, 
 is the most beautiful of all the missions, as you can see by the 
 picture. But here is another package from Kate and soaio 
 photographs of San Jos6. Now can you understand what I tell 
 you of the church ? Put the picture under the strong glOss, 
 and then we can sue clearly all the choice sculptures^ that 
 adorn its front" ' 
 
 8. " Oh how beautiful it isl But I wish I knew whom those 
 statues represent."—" Do you not see? The one directly over 
 the doorway is the Blessed Virgin. The statues on each side 
 are too much broken to bo recognized.^ But above the window 
 is a statue of St. Ant/iony, for whom the town was named. 
 Beside him, but a little lower down, stand St. Francis of Assis'i 
 and St Isidore. 
 
 9. « Now look close, and see the beauty of those sculptured 
 flowei-s and pomegranates and angels' iieads, that fill the space 
 between the window and the door. Here is a side window more 
 beautiful still. What a wonder this front of San Jose must 
 have been to the Mexican Indians, many of whom to this day 
 live in their huts of mud thatched with straw I " 
 
 10. « But what is the church built of?"— "By this picture, 
 giving us a view of the rijined side, the walls seem to have been 
 built of ado'be; or of bricks which, instead of having been 
 baked, were merely dried in the sun. 
 
 11. « The sculptures of the church are all cut by hand from a 
 stone peculiar to the country, and which is sawn nowad ays. 
 
 ' Scillp'tureg, representations of 
 various objects, carved in stone. 
 
 « R«o'og nize, to recall to mind ; 
 to know again. 
 
d>OGS. 
 
 "'ir!^,,. "^^.r^ ^-Om 
 
 160 
 
 ^^. "San Jo,, wJflnXd in 1^'^''^^T "' '^' '«"• 
 how soon the missionaries lv,m.„ * . Z "'"' "■"' J"" «» see 
 the arts of pe«,e. Il7tfc . °"^*'■" '^''™'^» In<««n. 
 even left unl!^,de«Hl le 1 X* ""'''' '^'' '»'«<"*"««1, or 
 Wost living like cwCd Sstia:":»"'' '^ "•" '"'^'^^ ">« 
 
 SECTION XIII. 
 I. 
 
 S7. DOGS. 
 
 .Wg as the one " with i^mmT^I^^^^rf^ *'■« '^''-e'tio 
 «W"that the whole snTiMtr^ *"'"^ " ""d another 
 individual is entirel/deS to his^T ""T >"•"•«%! o«ch 
 d.^tingniahea and /efcnda his ptrrr^d"'' """""'•«"• 
 t" h,m even unto death- and ,J1 H •^' -^ '*'™"'« """"hed 
 "ecessity, nor from restraint but 1 ml!,' V^ ""' *■«"» »>"» 
 a It is, indeed, wonderful If,'!^/""" "■»* «endahip.» 
 "-dog is the «»4anTmaTt ;" I'l^" "»'«««' ■« curious, 
 f^rth. Another curious fact hi "* ■""" "" «™r the 
 -that it he has anvThite In ^ **" ^"^"'^^ »'«»' the do» 
 ho found at the tip ' A dog la eolr'/'n'' '*"' " ''"' "'- 
 yo™, and Ms life V e"-r :X" l"' "'" "" "' "^ 
 thi. friend of man, for thei^a^ ^'f *"» '".« P««»t.stock of 
 •> primitive, atate of natu^ No f ^'Z' " '" ^ ^""^^ in 
 P^^perly so called, have eve; ij^^ ^''V^r'"^ <" "'« dog, 
 hreed to have bee^ deriUlX'S'' ^""'^ "»"«- '"' 
 
 appea Jce'^Zfi^tt^tr^r/rf " «" -«-•*" ™ "« 
 I"J!lLi^MgU^7;^^^^^^^^^ 
 i^^^Tjr— —— _^^;^«frec^jflrather lesa than two 
 
 petnfled ; clianged Into sMne. 
 
160 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 
 feet, and its length two feet and a-half. The head is formed 
 raudi like that of & fox, the ear§ ^hort and ereet, with Whiskery 
 from one to two indhe§ in length on the muzzle, so tiiat it 
 appea s mudh more like a wolf than a d6g. 
 
 5. Viie ^epherd'§ dog, a variety whidh was most probably 
 one of the first that 9ivilized and settled man called in aid to 
 
DOGS. 
 
 Ifil 
 
 presCire his flocks from bcaatj and blMa of prey, is remarkable 
 for 1.^ largo biain, and itH great aagacity.' While superior to 
 the spanie' and the hound, which are among the most usoftil 
 and mtelhgent dogs, it may, notwithstanding, rugked with 
 them. It 18 difficult to distinguish the bonen of the woll from 
 those of the shepherd's dog. 
 
 0. Dogs are useful in many ways. It is not v^ry nnnsnal to 
 set, xem trudging along, in villages and cities, carrying with 
 their mouttis lai-ge b&skets of meat, fryit, or vegetablea A 
 fnend of mine has a very noble and useful dfig. When milk 
 i« wanted by the family, Ihey put the money inside a tin can. 
 Away runs the dog with the can and money to the dairy. 
 
 7. He never loiters in the streets, looking in at shop-wlndflws, 
 hko too many boys and girls. When the dog €nds the gat^ 
 of tha dairy shut, he knocks with ..a paw, or barks, until the 
 gate IP opened. The milkman knows his customer well, and is 
 very attentive to him. When the milk is ready, away the dog 
 goes, but so steadily does he carry the can, that he is rarely 
 known to spill a drop of the milk ! ^ 
 
 8. You will often see in the country a little dog sitting beside 
 a small heap of clothes, and perhaps a tin can and a sta^-and a 
 basket. Don t go near hi a; don't disturb him ; he is rather 
 splteluU^o«, but for that verjr reason deserv.« respect ; for he 
 18 mmding the jacket and other properties of his mdater, who is 
 Ht work in the fields. Not long ago I read an account of a 
 drover, who left his dog to mind his jacket, while he went 
 across a railway to look after some cattle. In crossing the 
 
 SilT' Th' r' "'''' ,™ '^""'^ ^^^'^ ^y « ^'^^ «"J 
 
 «ja^ke^ """ ^^'^ ''' ^'"^^^'^^ ""''^ ^-^-^ '^ 
 
 9. We keep In our house a number of parrots and u few 
 
 maU b:rds Our good dog Topsy is such a faithful guardian 
 
 Wv. i^' i; '"''• T^ P^^'' *^""^ ^" «" the lawn, and 
 leave them there without watching; for Topsy suffers no cat to 
 
 ' Sa gSo'i ty, quic^nesB of sight or scent ; wisaom. 
 
1G2 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 II. 
 
 5S. THE FIREMAM'S DOG- 
 
 BOB, tho Fireman'^ 
 ^(ig," wa§ prob- 
 ably tiie most wonderful 
 dog of modern time§. He 
 wag 'x noble fgllow, and 
 d'vv a good example to boys 
 j^^^ and men of quickness, 
 bravery, and honest work. 
 When the fire-bell rang 
 at the station to "make 
 ready," Bob a)way§ start- 
 ed up promptly at the 
 €all of duty and ran be- 
 fore the Engine, barking 
 to €lear the way, and wa§ 
 most useful not only in 
 preventing obstructions, ^ 
 but in stimulating ' the men by hi§ energy. 
 
 2. For year§ he attended the fire§ of London, but not, a§ 
 many do, to Idbk on and make a noise, and obstruet the 
 workers; not a§, I am almost a^amed to say, some do to plun- 
 der and make a wicked profit :ut of one of the heaviest 
 €alamitie§ ; not, a§ 6thers do, to gratify their eye§ with a grand 
 and awful si^ht, as if human affliction wp" i:o them merely a§ 
 an exhibition of fireworks : no, a helper, and so efficient ^ wa§ 
 the aid he afforded, that the firemen had a brass collar made 
 for him, on whiiih wa§ engraven, 
 
 ^'Stop me not, but onward let me jog, 
 I'm Bob, the London fireman's dog." 
 
 3, At the time of the great explosion * of the firework-maker's 
 premiseg, in Westminster Road, vfhen dread filk 1 all mind§, the 
 nature of the material^ being v6ry explosive — Bob ru^ed in, 
 undeterred by the noi§e, a§ of a great gun, the smell or the 
 
 ' Ob struc'tion, that yfhidh block", 
 up, or hinder§ from p&ssing. 
 
 * StKm'u lat Ing, excjiting, or roug- 
 ina to aetioD, 
 
 3 Efficient (ef fi^' ent), €au§ing 
 effects ; not inactive or slack. 
 
 * Explosion (eks plo' zhiin), the 
 a«t of bursting with & loud !iO!§e. 
 
THE FIREMAN'S DOG, 
 
 163 
 
 smoke, and wlien he €ame out he hmn„K+ • 
 
 moufh and th«, saved it bZl eteiXt " ^' "" '" ""^ 
 4. At a fire in Lambeth, 
 
 when the firemen were told 
 
 ciiat all the inmates were out 
 of the burning premise^, Bob 
 wa§ not satisfied with this tes- 
 timony: he went to a side- 
 door and \hteneA, and there 
 by loud and continual barking,' 
 attracted the noti9e of ^^.o fire' 
 
 men. They felt si}re,froiu Bob's 
 
 ag'tation, that come one wa§ in 
 
 tlie passage, and, on btirsting 
 
 open the door a dhild wag found 
 
 nearly dead irora suffocation.^ 
 
 5. Bob w^§ also an drator.^ 
 True, he could not utter words 
 though he could make him- 
 
 f^elf clearly understood.^ffhidh is --~-n-^> 
 
 more «.an all^peakerg can. Th^re was a meanh^ and , ptirpose 
 
 J." ^^§"io<le of expression, and that, 
 
 1 am afraid, i§ more than can be 
 said of many speakers. 
 
 6. Those who talk for talking's 
 sake, thoge who utter folly and 
 nonsense, and tho§e who abuse 
 ttieir gift of speedh by uging bad, 
 or rude, o" cr^el word§, are not to 
 be comp 1 to Bob, who employed 
 ev6ry sound that he could make 
 for good. " He could well'-nigh 
 speak," said the men who loved 
 him; and more than speak in tlie 
 hour of danger, for hi§ loud, ^arp 
 bark had a vast deal of meaning 
 
 , ! Sflf'fo c5^1ioMh«r^itiou of 
 •tj; sLiucu, iimowiei^eu, or Choked. 
 
 • Or' a tor. k pqhli« gne£^<>j. g^. 
 peoially 4 noted one. 
 
164 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 7. But Bob wa§ an 5rator in the sense of attending public 
 meeting8,and giving testimony. At the annual meeting of the 
 Society for the Prevention of Cnjelty to Animals, which was 
 held in 1860, and on previous occasions, this brave dog went 
 fhrQugh a series of wonderful performances to show how the 
 fire-engines were pumped, and most kindly and effectually 
 would he give his warning bark, and in his way tell the scenes 
 that he had passed thrpugh. 
 
 8. Fine, noble creature ! It was sad that a violent death 
 should have been his lot after a life spent in merciful actions. 
 But he died at his work, doing his duty. 
 
 III. 
 69. OUR DOG. 
 
 QUITE sijre am I that you will own a d6g. Why, it is diffi- 
 cult to tell ; but every body, at some time in his life, has 
 taken unto hin^self a dog. Our dog Nip made him- 
 self known immediately &fter his arrival at the house. 
 
 2. There were no intermediate stages of backwardness vvith 
 him in his intercourse with the family, or in his assuming the 
 direction of a large portion of affairs relating to the household. 
 He is a small dog, but very lively. His natural condition seems 
 that of motion. He concentrates ^ within himself the activity 
 of three or four ordinary dogs. 
 
 3. His first act, soon after coming to live with us, was to take 
 charge of the back-door mat. He seemed to regard it as his 
 own exclusive possession. He had his idc'as with regard to its 
 place and uce. 
 
 4. He preferred that it should remain where the cldanliness 
 of the household might be best promoted. He preferred it in 
 the back yard. It stayed in the back yard. The whole house- 
 hold toiled in vain to koep it where it was supposed to bel6r g, 
 dragging it time after time up the back stairs, all to no purpose. 
 
 5. When such a dog as Nip chooses to devote his whole life 
 to keeping a door-mat in the back yard, it is difficult to con- 
 tend 2 successfully with him. When he thought we had become 
 
 ' OSn' cen trates, combioes ; « Oon tdnd', to strive a^inst ; to 
 unites ; condenses. oppose ; to dispute 
 
OUH DOG. 
 
 165 
 
 fully regjgned to his disposition of thp maf i, v 
 fied, and tore it in piecer hTw a ' ^^ ^^^*°^e ^issatis- 
 
 resigned. He wS To ^JZw'^'''^''^ ^^^^««« ^e were 
 actions of this kind «o°iethmg provoking. He loves 
 
 disir froT tre ttts :ltT ^^^^^' '-'^^ ^- 
 This he set upon and tore o pLeT TheT^ '^' '^^ «*^^^- 
 hai-m ; but its total innocence IL The broom never did any 
 Wm. Good nature is ^^rp^kW '^^^^^«^^^"^«« Provoked 
 
 7. He has access to the cellar ttA i ^i 
 good and orderly cellar prcS f„ V " ' •"'*■*• ^' *^ " ^«T 
 it « according to canine' noTrat. °- '""'^; " " >« » "O". 
 ness. He wai furnished J?th ,T ' T' ""^ '"^^' »d »««*- 
 These have been Z ™d L ^°' "" "'"*^« f"' " W. 
 has no use for a bed His ^i^f "^ '" ""'^ ""-^"tion. Ha 
 deep. The,, are hales fe be a, ^ t" frlT '" "^ ''^™'«0 <» 
 m.y thing aeddentally hnng „p "Sthin V ^"^ f""" "»"'•' ^'^^ 
 down and destroyed or b "rid ' '^- "''''' •« »«"> 
 
 In Ms%'en::?rr^„e'r ™( -"f -^^ *»™ ^» *-•«• 
 
 proved by these bite of CTews^'er I"^""'»^' « »'™I' »- 
 morning paper left at the door ITtt . °L'"<"'»P««=«"= «>« 
 ignobly in one comer nf tL j "^ *"™ *>"'i<l lying 
 
 'he do^a" He Z™ a g^ea'tSerf "* ''"'' "^^^ '» 
 
 »• Nip is a g,^t pef ThTs 7hat ir''^^?'"^ 
 something on which we m{lti j ""^ S'™" ^s for; 
 
 l»thy. Nip moTtta aft/J^lf "" ^^^ ""^ ""d W 
 performing some aggi^vaSri^d 1" "k?^"'' "^ *« "'^J^ 
 we never forget him^ever •»'«<'''«""'»8 »otion,so that 
 
 vaMons'lirhetps S'd^f ^h '^'"i:* ^* »~ -- 
 Ihen digs large^ote d^^hf,: preten,r""V" v""^ ""«»' "■"» 
 «>em. This is the only sLrw of "^ *" ^ '*''''>» '»■■ 
 chief committed in th™ line A^f f-*"^ "^^ ''" »■>">»!«■ 
 in ten seconds. Yet t ilr^tit 7 '*'"'«• ""^ «''»"«" » moal 
 ing little bn,te can not «rs„1t""*"r ''''''''''-' '^^-vat 
 
 evinced by his occas'nal 'S SlUtnT T '"^"""^' "' 
 :!i2!f!^2?^!if^ii>e stomach "'°'*'™'' """sequmt upon 
 
 ' = ""nOing ai.d iLe ground attachedT 
 
166 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 11. We have a rooster. Before Nip's arrival he was a 
 hftughty and consequential ^ rooster in his own estimation. He 
 issued his pronunciamentos '^ daily, claiming the allegiance of all 
 the feathery tribe, and boasted in long speeches concerning the 
 completeness of his authdrity over the yard and hen-coop. But 
 Nip has taken all the conceit out of him. Daily he chases him 
 into abject fear before his subjects. He has chased him from 
 the high pedestal of his former dignity. 
 
 12. Adding injury to insult, he has torn out the most glorious 
 of his tail-feathers. It is pitiful to see a rooster so completely 
 demolished,^ both in appearance and dignity. Nip runs after 
 the hens also. Not from motives of gallantry does he do this, 
 but to hiimJliate more thoroughly the dejected, tail-r:dden 
 rooster. Our persecuted fowls have scdrcely a place in which 
 they may lay their heads or eggs in peace. 
 
 13. He Las contests with an old tin pan, carried on with great 
 noise and fury. He idealizes this pan into some terrible mon- 
 ster, and idealizes so Successfully that the combat is more relil 
 than imaginary. The contest goos on over the whole yard, tho 
 con'batants swaying backward and forward; but Nip always 
 comes off victorious. 
 
 H. We could dispense with his dragging this utensil up the 
 steps and letting it roll down again. In his estimation the 
 dramatic effect may be very powerful, but the peace of the 
 family is not at all increased by the clangor.* It must be very 
 gratifying to fight an oppo'nent so terrible, to be at times almost 
 overcome, and yet to be always certain of victory. 
 
 15. The most provoking characteristic " of this animal is that 
 punishment, when inflicted, has no effect upon him. He is btten 
 turned out of doors in disgrace, but he ignores that as a punish- 
 ment entirely. He refuses to be regarded with disapprobation. 
 His manner speaks thus to us as he noisily scratches at the door 
 for refidmittance, or looks impudently in, his paw resting on the 
 sill of a low window : 
 
 16, " Oh, you needn't look so crSss. You like all these pranks 
 
 * 05n Be quSn'tial, proud ; full 
 of vain pretences. 
 
 * Pro nuu'ci a mSu'to, a procla- 
 mation, as of a king to his subjects. 
 
 ^ De iii5rishe<7, used up. 
 
 * OlSng'or, a loud, shrill sound. 
 
 * OhSr'bi^, ter is'tic, that which is 
 peculiai' to a person or thincr. 
 
THM SESMON OF ST. FRANCIS. 167 
 
 always resumes hL t;' SClrV"! "J*"""-" «'«-•. 
 command of temper md lS» ,■ ^^ *"" "" *<>™iral>le 
 
 heaps coals of flru^onHi-^f'^r" J''\*»Ix'-«'»' 
 lose temper. *^ ""^ ""'''' ''''«"' ho causes to 
 
 tem^r^'lar^^^^ulTud ^ '■"^ « J"- 
 
 than tie an^d I taaC burT "^""f' ""' «*"^ ^»«' 
 that. Feel Sy'better for ft^ McV \™^' ■""* " «'"« ""e at 
 not make any difference in our rettLr f"" T„ ' " '"^' 
 tionate Nip, as full of mischief aTe^t" ""' ^""^ ""f^"- 
 
 -^"inrTrr.rSte1t,.l;:T.;-»^^^^^ 
 
 hiting,orafitof.uIksmoreo"iess«mwrT!! '" '"""'"S- 
 
 «.me degree of compensation iron" aS"^l"r '"'^'.' "" 
 good liumor and inevitjihk fc™: -^ ^'" ""^ persistent 
 
 annoys, yet he amuses and instruct!' ^1*^^"^ ^^^^ ^^^s 
 Btudying as well as human natu^ a„? ^ "J? '"'' ^' ^"^"^ 
 between the two, the kttPrL. l- ^ '" *''® comparison 
 two, tne lattei has sometimes cause to blush. 
 
 SECTION XIV. 
 
 ^0, THE SERMON OF ST. FMAJ^CIS. 
 
 T TP soared the lark into the dir 
 V A shaft of sdng, a winged prdver 
 As If a soul, released from pain, ^ ' 
 _^reflying^back toheaven again. 
 
 ■ — - - — - •*^»«1XJ» 
 
 ■ °*'''" ^^'"on' punishment l^T^^SJ^ 
 
168 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 2. St Francis h6ard ; it was to him 
 An emblem of the Seraphim ; 
 The upward motion of the fire, 
 The light, the heat, the heart's desire. 
 
 S. Around Assisi's convent gate 
 
 The birds, God's poor who can not wait, 
 From moor ^ and mere 2 and darksome wdbd 
 Come flocking for their dole ^ of food. 
 
 4. " brother birds," St. Francis said, 
 " Ye come to me and ask for bread. 
 But not with bread alone to-day 
 Shall ye be fed and sent away. 
 
 5. " Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds 
 With manna of celestial * words. 
 
 Not mine, though mine they seem to be, 
 Not mine), though they be spoke by me. 
 
 6. " Oh doubly are ye bound to praise 
 The great Creator in your lays : 
 
 He giveth you your plumes of down, 
 Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown. 
 
 7. " He giveth you your wings to fly 
 And breathe a purer air on high. 
 And cdreth for you everywhere. 
 Who for yourselves so little care I '* 
 
 8. With flutter of swift wings and s6ngs. 
 Together rose the feathered thrdngs. 
 And singing, scattered far apart: 
 Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart 
 
 9. He knew not if the brotherhood 
 His homily ^ had understood ; 
 He only knew that to one ear 
 
 The meaning of his words was clear. 
 
 • Moor, waste laud, covered with 
 heath or with rocks. 
 
 * Mere, a pnni or lake. 
 
 ' D5Ie, a share ; a pCrtion. 
 
 * Oe Ids'tial, heavenly. 
 
 ^ HSm'i ly, a discourss ; a sermon, 
 
-* ^^^"^ ^^ THE WINDOW. . leg 
 II. 
 
 61. A LIGHT IJV THE Wljmow. 
 
 Btoou. right oppLte ttf LrSr'ff thl Tn"- ^"-"^ " 
 
 Orkney Jplands vieIdin»-\,rV- i ' ™ '^"*'' »' ""e of the 
 
 cottage vrir"eXtri;''f °" *?'« iatad a yo„„g g,,, i„ , 
 derly. One wild niX • ,r ,^ ''""^ "'^^ "^er yery ten- 
 
 wheel in th.j, hu\ a^li*; h^l ^\ "' !- «P-ning! 
 
 out on the d,n-k driving ol^dl InTr t i"/"'" *" ^''"''^'J 
 wind and the sea. ' "'' '"'^""'l' troubling, to the 
 
 l.at ''b^rSl of theT'h/f '• °"^ "^'^ «■"* «'-><• 
 father's boat^it had .f \ '"^ ™™' ''»? missing-her 
 g^ne dow Half fir? T"'' "'" " ^onlly Bocif" aid 
 'as w^hed np rthelore '" "*'*"' """^ '"*''-•» '«<'y 
 
 poor and weakfyM 1"^ ^h"L^ thT " ".'^"''' '""»""' 
 no more boats should bo Ifist on fh„ «^^ that wh.je she lived, 
 shining through her window ^l ^"'''^ ^^'^'" 'f » light 
 harbor ^ *'"'*'"" ^""'"^ g"^^ them safely into the 
 
 down and slept through K ' J^ .'* T '"'"«'' ^''^ « 
 arose, and HghtingaTand e nt^!, ." """"^ "^"^^ ^"'^ *e 
 
 oottage,s„th*atitli7trsVXlnv ■", *"" "°'"' "^ "« 
 the sea, and guide him IfT ."^ ''7 fisherman coming from 
 
 candle all night and trimSt'"^/'^'''''-' ^'"' »"' ^^ 'he 
 -lawned she went to bXdIept '''""' """' ""^ '"^ -Joy 
 
 h^VlTuVslltlnd'oto';:? tTh" T-"'- ''' «^ 
 
 a ^neana of causing suffering. +„,„•. (h&ngk), a parcel con- 
 
 ' Hw-bor, a safe port for shipa !!^"?-*^? ?. "^«'« «k«^B •' yam 
 
170 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 M 
 
 maturity,^ and old age, she has turned night into day, and in the 
 snow storms of winter, through driving mists, deceptive moon- 
 light, and solemn darknf;8s, that northern harbor has never 
 oncp been without the light of her candle. 
 
 7. How many lives she saved by this candle, and how many 
 meals she won by it for the starving families of the boatmen, it 
 is impossible to say. How many dark nights the fishermen, 
 depending on it, have g6ne forth, can not now be told. 
 
 8. 7'here it stood, regular as a light-house, steady as constant 
 cAre could make it. Always brighter when daylight waned,' 
 the fishermen had only to keep it constantly in view and they 
 w6re safe; there wa§ but one thing to intercept it, and that 
 was the rock. However far they might have gone out to the 
 sea, they had only to bear down for that lighted window, and 
 they were sure of a safe entrance to the harbor. 
 
 9. What do the boatmen and boatmen's wives think of this ? 
 Do they pay the woman? No; they are very poor; but poor 
 or rich, they know better than that. 
 
 10. Do they thank her? No. Perhaps they think that 
 thanks of theirs would be inadequate ^ to express their grati- 
 tude ; or perhaps, ISng years have made the lighted casement 
 so familiar, that they lobk upon it as a matter of course, and 
 forget for the time the patient watcher within. 
 
 11. Sometimes the fishermen lay fish on her threshold* and 
 set a child to watch it for her till she wakes ; S'^metimes their 
 wives steal into her cottage, now that she is getting old, and 
 spin a hank or two c' thread for her while she slumbers; and 
 they teach their children to piss her hut quietly, and not to 
 sing or shout before her door, lest they should disturb her. 
 That is all. Their thanks are not looked for — scdrcely sup- 
 Twsed to be due. Their grateful deeds are more than she 
 expects, and as much as she desires. 
 
 . 12. There is many a rock elsewhere, as perilous" as the one I 
 
 ' Ma tfi'ri ty, a ripe or perfect 
 state ; the maturity of age usually 
 extends from the age of fliirty-five 
 to fifty ; also, a becoming due ; the 
 end of the time a note has to run. 
 
 * Waned, decreased ; lessened. 
 
 ^ In Sd'e quale, not equal or suf- 
 ficient. 
 
 * ThrSsh'dld, the door-sill ; en- 
 trance ; outset. 
 
 * PSr'il ous, full of risk ; dan- 
 gerous. 
 
MBm^S MUSEUM, 
 
 I7t 
 
 III. 
 62. ROBUrs MUSEUM. 
 
 he had beocme quite famiHlr If/l *.. • '"' '"«'«. "^d «'ter 
 q«ented> the neigh borhZT w '• ™"°''' ''''«'» ">»' '«- 
 of them. "<"«"''»'''«»<i. he determined to make a coUeotion 
 
 stumS'rd'rf rf r."! ': "^ii ^-^'^ ^■^^ '» 
 
 dead specimens » look*!ke iw„t . f'^'^'d in making his 
 ekillful lad in the ^ „tht ^ T'""* ^^''^ '«« quite a 
 him always car5^, Tnd 2j^/""-,'f »»»- ,"'» P4-nte, finding 
 one when he was qu"^/' *'"* '*'"' ''* *" '"««' tim with 
 
 thf-wrdTrisrfinditt'f''^''^ '^-^ ^-^ •'■"' 
 
 arrange those he pZnZi^nthZ <" *"? '"' '""'^ P"'"^ *» 
 Thongh he did n~tototokmr^?'**'"'y'«'«''««d- 
 
 loved the little creatut to teH „'r„:/Th ''''r'""' ''^ 
 season, or to shoot them »f oii f . ™'" "' ">« wrong 
 
 in his cabinet.' "' "" """P' *" <»' »P » bimi spacf 
 
 •4. In the course of two vears RnK,-« \. j 
 tion of native* birds • LIZ ^^^^'^^ ^ad quite a large collec- 
 
 any natuiulL» Zht have L ""^ ^'^ '^'^ ''^^'^ <*»* 
 
 ashes; but Robhi wJnla^l^'T'''''^ ^'' ^^^"" 
 fire he had anotLrX ion whT^' ^^' ^^^ ^^^^ the 
 than the first ^^"^ction, which waa even more complete 
 
 ~- ;5^^_^^one_oMhem were more than sixteen 
 
 Pre qa«nt', to visit habitually. 
 
 oab 1 net, any close place where 
 thiaga of value are kept 
 
 * Na'tlve, belonging to the coun- 
 try where found. 
 
 /Nat'uralist, one who studies 
 ->iie iuslory of aoiinals. 
 
172 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ill 
 
 years old, und all were Tery much interested in big account of 
 the birds and their habits. 
 
 6. On their way home they continued to talk about them. 
 " It is all very well," said Edgar, " for a quiet fellow like Robin 
 to shoot birds, and stuff them, and get up a nice cabinet, but 
 will it pay 9 " Stephen suggested * that some society of natural 
 history would, perhaps, buy Robin's collection, and thus recom- 
 pense him for all his trouble. Gerald took a higher view. 
 
 7. " What if no society ever buys Robin's collection ? Ho is 
 air 'aVr, and will continue to be, rewarded in enjoyment and 
 knowledge, if not in dollars and cents. When other boys wf re 
 playing games, Robin was roaming * through the woods ; and 
 when wo have been on the street, idle, and looking for amuse- 
 ment, h3 has been happy stuffing and arranging his birds. So, 
 I think, the knowledge he has gained, and the mischief he has 
 escaped, have paid him well." 
 
 8. " Yes," said another, " money is not the only good in the 
 world. I would rathett* possess the strength and activity the 
 gymnasium 8 gives me, for my trouble in going to it, than to 
 receive a dollar a day in place of them ; " and he took a tremen- 
 dous leap over a street fountain that they were just passing. 
 The boys laughed, and Gerald said: 
 
 9. " I will tell you what I read lately about Audubon, the 
 great American naturalist. One day, as he was roaming about 
 in the woods, he saw a small brown bird, which, to his knowl- 
 edge, had never been described. * It must be a wren,' said he, 
 • and I must watch it to see if it is like any other American 
 wren.' So he kept perfectly still, — as still as an Indian or an 
 old hunter, until he saw that the bird had a mate, and that 
 they were preparing to build a nest, for it was spring. 
 
 10. " He found whdre they had chosen a place for their little 
 home. Then he moved noiselessly away ; but the next morning 
 at dawn saw him on the same spot, provided with a telescopic 
 or compound microscope,* so arranged that he could see his 
 little friends at work without disturbing them. 
 
 » Sag fe«8t', to hint ; to propose. 
 ^ RSam'ing, wandering here and 
 there. 
 3 Qfm na'si urn (zhi), a place 
 
 where athletic exercises are taken. 
 
 * Mi'cro scope, an optical instru- 
 ment used to magnify objects to 
 which it is applied. 
 
IN TIME'S SWING. 
 
 173 
 
 11. "He continued his study of the wrens throuirh weeks of 
 patient watehmg until he felt thdroughly able rlTa fu,, 
 and accurate description of a native fonUr, untif hen un 
 known Moreover, be made drawings so faithful in size form 
 and color, that one of that species could be Tstantlv 2l 
 
 12 "He successfully accomplished whatever he undertook 
 because hewa. unwearied in the cAre and Effort he exSS 
 
 aTeltcVliir^:;,^ tr ^vr^^ '"- - ^^^"-^^ 
 
 work mv« Zl' ,^^^/.*^Ph«°^ "'t is very trye that the best 
 work pays the best, so I mtend to find out as i-anv wonderfi,! 
 tbmgs in my studies ^ Audubon did in the woo^" "^ 
 
 SECriON XV. 
 
 I. 
 
 6S. IJV TIME'S SWIJVG. 
 
 FATHER TIME, ygur footsteps go 
 Lightly as the falling snow. 
 In your swing I'm sitting, see! 
 Push me sdftly ; one, two, three— 
 Twelve times only. Like a sheet 
 Spread the snow beneatJi my feet. 
 Singing merrily, let mp swing 
 Out of winter into spring. 
 
 «. Swing me out, and swing me in I 
 
 Trees are bAre, but birds begin 
 N Twittering to the peeping leaves 
 
 On the bough beneath the eaves. 
 
 Wait— one lilac-bud I saw. 
 
 Icy hillsides feel the thaw. 
 
 April chased dff March to-day : 
 
 Vrvnr T ^Xi—l- - „i«_ - "^ ' 
 
/7^ 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 5. Oh the smell of sprtHitiug graas I 
 In a bliir the violets puss. 
 Whispering from the wild-wood come 
 Mayflower's breath, and insects' hum. 
 Koses carjxjting the ground ; 
 Thrushes, orioles, warbling sound : — 
 Swing me low, and swing mo high, 
 To the warm clouds of July. 
 
 i. Slower now, for at my side 
 White pond-lilies oj 2n wide. 
 Underneath the pine's tall spiro 
 Cardinal-blossoms bAm like fire. 
 They are g6ne : the golden-rod 
 Flashes from the dark green sod. 
 Crickets in the grass I hear ; 
 Asters light the fading year. 
 
 6. Slower st^ll I October wearea 
 Rainbows of the fdrest leaves. 
 Gentians fringed, like eyes of blue, 
 Ghmmer out of sleety dew. 
 Meadow-green I sadly miss : 
 Winds thrgugh witherer? sed^jes hiss. 
 Oh, 'tis snowing, swing me fast. 
 While December shivers past I 
 
 6. Frdsty-bearded Father Time, 
 Stop your footfall on the rime I 
 Hard your pufe.-, your hand is rough ; 
 You have swung me Idng enough. 
 ** Nay, no stopping," say you ? Well, 
 Some of your best stories tell. 
 While you swing me — gently, do ! — 
 From the Old Year to the New. 
 
 II. 
 
 64. GOD'S ACRE. 
 
 " TP\0 you know, Arthur, why a burying-ground was called 
 
 LJ by the Anglo-Saxons 'Gdd's Acre.'—" We should say, 
 
 George, if we wanted to express the same idea^ God's Field^ or 
 
f'H 
 
 GOD'S ACHE. 
 
 175 
 
 sailed 
 
 I say, 
 Id, or 
 
 tho place whcro Odd 8ow8 His seed for tho harvMt"-" Still 
 Arthur, the meaning ig not quit plain " ' 
 
 tZ^'cS^^- ,• "* ^'^' """'•«'' "■"«' »W Saxons, when they 
 .»ame Chnstjans w%o yiry much in earnest, ^me truth of 
 ■ «ith, or thought of God, was united to every name tSV hi 
 
 r slowed . on the obiects around them. They )«Uo ved w th th^ 
 
 whOie heart an^ soul in the resur^etio,f of ho My *^'d 
 therofare, jhon their friends u.^i, and they kid themlwav"a 
 «« ground, mstead of mSuming w-thout hope, iTey dW n 
 
 «eea ol our mortal bodies whieh are to spring up, in the day of 
 the resurrection, fresh and beautiful like new grSn" ^ 
 
 title of 'oSTe're"""'','""' ^'«'«'"' »<> Wopriate is the 
 mie 01 Weds Acre' when .hns applied? As the m-ain of 
 
 »uiK wnich It brmgs fOrth, so our moilal bodies, planted in 
 
 rise lir; "1 ^^'^iy '^^ ""'"^-^ »f Ood'« 0^-^h wm 
 Zy^"».me.?""'' """'"' <"" «" *^'' -d M in rekty 
 
 wm r„"olf iffJ'^T'?'* ^'""' '^"''" Y»» ™» that God 
 o.;Lf H, " .'^"' '" "'" «■='"«' *'»oh are the cons,; 
 
 crated bnrymg-grounrls and cemeteries; and these lifeless Ss 
 of good men end women and children, -will spring upTewTd 
 
 c/ri3Snr^;r„tt o/JhV^y gttttirt -^ 
 
 After death, a sacred worth in their eye7» ^ ^' """■ 
 
 6 "How cheeriog, Arthur! Our bodies are not laid away 
 
 mth the wor.(.. They are planted carefully and gently in the 
 
 &rth, like the oreeious .seed of wheat and other g,! ins wStin^ 
 
 or tne day when Jesus Christ wiU raise them S Z H^ 
 
 own glorious body." "^ ^^ 
 
 '/. "Yes, George, and we should walk carefully <mrt witi. 
 
 Tit** r/?« ""^^ «'"^^«' f'"- »hiol> ^ri^ suTh n2 
 ^utful boeies. I„ these Acres or J%?<fe"7<M H°tt 
 
 'B©Si5wed', gave, 
 
 ^^^^K"''^!' ' 
 
 
 HKitt . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 MMMMra^ V!. 
 
 
 
 
 HB^^ff. 
 
 
 
 
 ^^Htv; 
 
 
 
 
176 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH REjiDER. 
 
 planted precious seed — so precious that He never loses sight of 
 them, though they may have I sen in the earth for thousands 
 of years." 
 
 III. 
 
 65, ST. PHILOMEJSTA, 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 « 
 
 H 
 
 E? 
 
 R name must be LumCna," said the happy mother, 
 "for did not our child come to us with the light of 
 faith ? " — " This is true," said the prince, her father. '' Publius 
 has been more than a courtier; he has been to us a friend and 
 brother. 
 
 2. « ThrQugh him we have learned the ddctrines of the true 
 faith, and received strength to practice them. Now, as he 
 promised, our httle daughter comes us a reward of this faith, 
 which gives us so much happiness every day." A .d with such 
 gentle words was Lun^ena, the first and only child of her royal 
 pdrents, welcomed into life. 
 
 5. When the time came for her to be b&ptized, they said : " Is 
 not our daughter the child of liglitf Therefore we must call 
 her, not only Lumena, but Filumena," and by this name she 
 was baptized. The little Filumena lived in perfect peace with 
 her good Christian parents and the learned Piiblius for her 
 teacher, in her beautifr' '..ome beneath the blue sky of Greece, 
 until she was thirteen years of age. 
 
 I. At this time, public affdir,5, as also the command of the 
 Emperor Dioclesian, called the prince, her father, to Rome. 
 Very seldom indeed bad. he been absent from his small king- 
 dom, and now he could not think of leaving his wife and his 
 young daughter behind him. 
 
 6, " You also shall go to Eome," he said, " and see the great 
 city, the mistress of the world. Together wo will visit the 
 tombs of the apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and seek the 
 blessing of the successor of St. Peter, Marcelllnus, the holy 
 Bishop of EoJie." 
 
 6. When he was allowed an interview ^ with the emperor, the 
 princess, his wife, and Filumdna were with him. As the prince 
 
 ' In'ter view, a meeting for conversation. 
 
 I ,.. .;•■ r « *•, 
 
 
57: PHILOMENA. Xfy 
 
 went on with his story, he noticed that the emperor paid very 
 h."ht:" ' "" "^"'^' ""' '-'"^ -'«-all7S 
 
 very beantifnl. At length the emperor interrupted" him ^ 
 ■ng "Give yonrself no further anxiety about thrmatte-^i 
 
 wilful "r "^ Tf "* '''"" •" "' y-" '»'«•»«»'. "-"J in reVm 
 I w,ll ask of you bu one thi„g-the h.nd of your daught r» 
 
 S. The pnnco could soAreely believe his own ears Xu th. 
 
 daughter of a petty^ prince in one corner of oTce 2^X 
 
 be he Empress of Kome! AH this did not mar'himTl^ 
 
 hat t would c6st him much to give up his daughter nor ftat 
 
 Dioclesian was a pagan 3 and a persecutor of ChnSnL 
 
 0. But wliat could he do ? Who ever heard of refusing an 
 
 Emperor of Eomo any request which he might make? The^ 
 
 fore, without appearing to hesitate for a moment, he agreed to 
 
 g^ve his daughter to Dioclesian. No sooner ^as Sen^ 
 
 alone with her parents than she said, " my father! how cTuU 
 
 you prom.se me to the Roman Emperor, when I have vowtdto 
 
 eon^semte myself to the service of my Lord and Savlourlesu^ 
 
 "r!;'i!^-"'""^.'".'' ^°""^' "lyhild, to make that vow."- 
 in htfnr'^'' "; ^"^ '"" ^ '"■''"' '"" For the firstT me 
 'Dol If "Tf '^'"'"' '"«'''<' »' her in anger, «ijinT 
 ouen^ ofTh '^r^ir^" I^- he knew the fe^U cS^ 
 quences of thwarting' the emperor's will. 
 
 IV. 
 06. ST. PHILOMEJfA. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Vy HEN the order arrived for Filumena to be b ought into 
 
 parent, ^1^^'"^ "' ,'I" ''"'^'""' «''« "gain reminded her 
 parents that she was unable to fnlflll the promise given by her 
 fether. r. was ,„ vain that they told h r of the^eath tha 
 
 ' In ter riipt'ed, stopped, 
 " P*t'ty, of small importance. 
 
 lias never been a Christian. 
 
178 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 vr. 
 
 ; 
 
 I 
 
 ,i! 
 
 surely awaited h6r if she refused— of the destruction of her 
 wh^le family. 
 
 ^, Their words fell upon dSaf ears; and even when both 
 these beldved pArents in terror knelt before her, saying, with 
 tears in their eyes, ** Take pity, Filumena, on your %ther, your 
 mother, your country, yuur subjects," she exclaimed, "Have 
 you not yourselves taught me these words of our Divine Lord ? 
 * He that lov^th father or mother more than Me is not worthy 
 of Me?"' 
 
 3. She was carried to the palace and brought before the em- 
 peror, but it was only to refuse all the honors which ^e ofiFered 
 to her. Repelled ^ thus, his anger knew no bounds, ctnd calling 
 his guards, "S?;.t up this child," he exclaimed, "in a gloomy 
 prison, load her with chains, and give her nothing but bread 
 and water." 
 
 4.. This hdrrible captivity had lasted thirty-seven days, when, 
 in the midst of a heavenly light, Filumena saw the Virgin 
 Mother of God before her, holding her Divine Son in her arms. 
 "My daughter," said the Blessed Virgin, "three days more of 
 prison, and then, after a great combat and terrible torture, thou 
 shalt quit this state of pain." Then the celestial vision disap- 
 peared, leaving the heart of Filumena filled with divine coiirage, 
 and the foul prison perfumed with a heavenh odor. 
 
 5. Dioclesian at last despaired of bending the resolution of 
 his captive, and determined to punish her. " Since she is not 
 ashamed to prefer to an emperor like Dioclesian," he said, " one 
 who was condemned by His own nation to be crucified, she 
 deserves to be seoArged as He was." 
 
 6. His cruel order was carried out, until her body was one 
 bloody wftund and she appeared to be dying. She was then 
 dragged to her prison to die alone. But our Lord, to v/hom she 
 was so faithful, sent two angels all in shining white, to r^^ss 
 her wounds with healing balm. 
 
 7. The emperor v is quickly informed of this prociigy. 
 Brought before him, he beheld her with astonishment. • it 
 is plain," said he, " Jupiter wishes you to be Empress of Eome. " 
 " Do not speak of Jupiter to me, who am a Christian mai'leii," 
 
 • fie polled, reaiDted ; refu3e4, 
 
 III 
 
S/X RODOLPH OF HAPSBUXG. I79 
 
 answered Mlumen^ "Tie an anchor round her nee)- »„ , 
 
 to her neck and while ifsaok to theritom 'f"^ Tu" 
 mena, m the presence of an immense mnHifn^ J^ioer, ^liu- 
 gently to the sh5re. This raClZn^^^^^.tZ 
 faith ; but the emperor ordered her to be shot wiSw and 
 agam thrown into prison. arrows and 
 
 ^1\I^^\T''''''^ '^' ""^ ^^«"g^* before him perfect! 
 aled, and the command of the preceding day w^ .Ceat^d 
 Ihe arrows aimed at her remained suspended in th^ir ' h.v 
 
 in^n^^L ^'^^ ^^' P^^'^^ ^^^ -h-' - of whom w'ere 
 
 Jtl^ff^'^^t '*'" ''»'^' Dioclesian commanded h^r to 
 be beheaded, which was done on the 10th of AuZf t\x? 
 year 303, after Christ. ^""^^^ '" *^® 
 
 V. 
 
 67. SIR ROnOLPH OF HAPSBURG. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THE sunlight falls on the Alpine heights. 
 And jewels of every hue 
 Flash out from the snow-wreati-ig sparkling bright, 
 
 JNeath a heaven of cloudlesp blue 
 ^ rd the deer thrfiugh ihe rocics on the mountain side 
 
 fepnng forward with jager bound, 
 While a thousand echoes ring far and vie! <. 
 Tc the hunter's bugle » sound. 
 
 ^. Oh well may the wild deei bouiid a^vay 
 1 hrgugh those roountaltn-fdrests granrl, 
 For Sir Bodolph of Hapsburg ride, to^iay 
 At the head of a nunter band. 
 
 ' Pn'fle, a hunting l^m^. 
 
180 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 I i 
 
 '■V, 
 
 
 The highest places in field and hall 
 
 Doth brave Sir Rodolph claim, 
 Stainless and bright is the sword he wears, 
 
 And high is his knightly fame. 
 
 5. Glad as a boy in the mountain chase, 
 
 And gay as a child is he, 
 Yet he yieldeth to none of his noble race 
 
 In Christian chivalry.^ 
 And his sword that never gave heedless'^ WQund, 
 
 Or struck at a fallen foe, 
 To fight for the weak from its sheath ^ would boimd. 
 
 Or to lay the tyrant low. 
 
 Jf. His laugh rings out at the sportive jest, 
 
 There is mirth in his dark blue eye. 
 His steed and his arm are fleetest and best 
 
 When the deer and the hounds sweep by I 
 But his voice in council is deep and grave 
 
 As the oldest and sternest there ; 
 And the hunter gay, and the soldier brave, 
 
 Is meek as a child, at prayer. 
 
 6. And now Sir Rodolph, in boyish glee 
 
 Rides ' as the mountain wind, 
 Till all id, save * a youthful page 
 
 A.re k the hills behind. 
 But he raises his bugle with joyous shout, 
 
 And he winds a merry blast. 
 Ha! ha! good Hubert! they little thought 
 
 We should ride so far and fast. 
 
 6. They answer below ; — ^but a s5fter sound 
 Comes borne on the breeze's swell. 
 Now, why doth ® the count in such hast'i dismount 
 At the sound of that tinkling bell ? 
 
 ' Ohiv al ry (^iv'al ry), valor ; 
 knightly courtesy. 
 
 '^ Heed'less, careless ; iuattentive. 
 
 ^ Sheath, a case for the recepti ju 
 of a sword. 
 
 * Save, except. 
 
 * Page, a boy attendant on a per- 
 son of rank for show itither than 
 for actual service. 
 
 < Doth (d>m}. 
 
Sm RODOLPH OF HAPSBURG. 
 
 181 
 
 And ;^y is hi§ €ap doffed » reverently? 2 
 
 And T^hy dofh he bend the knee? 
 There are none, save tiie page, or the peasant uigh. 
 And the mountains lord is he ! 
 7. The lord of the mountain doffed cap and plume 
 A nobler than he to greet, « Pi"me, 
 
 And the dhieftam or Hapsburg bend^Oi low 
 
 His Monarch and Lord to meet. 
 An ag^d priest to the plain§ below 
 
 Toil§ over the rocky road, 
 Hi§ hand§ are clasped, and his head is bowed 
 -b or he bearefh tiie hidden Gdd. 
 ' D5ffed, removed. 
 
 ' R^V er ent ly, humbly; respectfully. 
 
18^ 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH ^^AJDER. 
 
 VI. 
 68. SIR RODOLPH OF HAPSBURG. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 THE priest hath paused beside the count. 
 Sir Kodolph whispers low, 
 '''For His dear sake who died for me 
 
 A boon 1 thou shalt bestow ! 
 I crave a boon for my dear Lord's sake 1 
 
 And thou shalt not me deny, 
 My gallant steed in His service take, 
 We will follow, my page and I." 
 
 2. " Nay, nay, sir knight, it must not be, 
 
 A hunter chieftain thou — 
 Thine eager train e'en now I see. 
 
 Far in the pViin below." — 
 " My train to-day must ride alone — 
 
 Most foul disgrace 't would be, 
 If thou on fooc shouldst bear the Lord 
 
 Who bore the Crdss for me. 
 
 3. "And G6d forefend* that Christian, e'er, 
 
 Begirt 8 with knighthood's sword. 
 Should leave a mountain serf* to be 
 
 Sole follower of his Lord." 
 The good priest mounts the noble steed, 
 
 Sir Rodolph holds the rein, 
 Witli careful step and reverend mien* 
 
 Thus wend* they to the plain. 
 
 4. The dying man his God receives— 
 
 They mount the hill once more. 
 And in the pass the grateful priest 
 Would fain the steed restore. 
 
 ' Boon, a favor. 
 
 ' Fore fSnd', forbid ; prevent. 
 
 3 Be girt', belted. 
 
 * Ser^ a peasant ; a, slave. 
 
 ' MieO; deportment ; behavior. 
 
 * WJ(nd, to go to or from a place. 
 
Slli kODOLPB OP tlAPSBURO. 
 
 "Nay father, nay," Sir Bodolph said. 
 
 And loosed the hunter's rein 
 "The charger that hath borne my Lord 
 
 1 may not mount again." 
 
 B. « A faithful servant he hath been. 
 
 And well beloved by me 
 God grant ny noble steed may prove 
 
 As true a friend to thee. 
 "FWewelll thy homeward path is short 
 
 JJown yonder wooded knoll, 
 Forget not in the Holy Mass 
 
 To pray for my poor soul." 
 
 Q' A moment on his upturned face 
 The priest in silence gazed, 
 Then solemnly his aged hands 
 
 O'er Rodolph's head he raised. 
 " Sir hunter, when nine circling years 
 
 Have passed upon their way. 
 Thy bving Master will reward 
 Thy service of to-day." 
 
 t. They passed-fair Hapsburg's youthful chief 
 
 A stalwart knight had grown. 
 And now they need a king to fill 
 
 His native land's proud throne! 
 Nor hath his manhood's fame belied 
 
 The hope of early years. 
 For he is first in rank and name 
 
 Among his gallant peers. 
 
 8. Now serfs and nobles bend the knee. 
 
 To own with one accord. 
 As monarch of their German land. 
 
 Fair Hapsburg's noble lord. 
 And well the count remembered then. 
 
 The hoary father's word; 
 "Thy loyal service of to-day. 
 
 Thy Lord will well reward." 
 
 18S 
 
 p 
 
 J 
 
 
184 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 SECTION XVI. 
 I. 
 
 69. WBECK OF THE HESPERUS. 
 
 T WAS the schooner * HSs'perus 
 
 I 
 
 That sailed the wintry sea ; 
 And the skipper had taken his little daughter, 
 To bedr him company. 
 
 ' Schoon'er, h. small, ^arp-built vessel with two m&sts. 
 
WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 185 
 
 ^. Blue were hGr eyes as the fAiry flax. 
 Her cheeks like the dawn of day 
 And her fdr.A5«d white as the hawthorn buds, 
 ihat ope in the month of May. 
 
 3. The skipper i he stolid beside the helm ; » 
 
 His i)ipe wag in his mouth; 
 And he watched how the veering « flaw* did blow 
 itie smoke, now west, now south. 
 
 4. Then up and spake an old sailor. 
 
 Who'd sailed the Spanish main: 
 " I pray thee, put into ydnder port, 
 For I fear a hurricane.* 
 
 5. "Last night the moon had a golden ring, 
 
 And to-night no moon we see I " 
 
 The skipper he blew a whiff" from his pipe. 
 
 And a scornful lilugh laughed he. 
 
 6. Colder and louder blew the wind, 
 
 A gale from the northeast; ' 
 The snow fell hissing in the brine. 
 And the billows frdthed like yeast. 
 
 7. Down came the storm, and smote amain « 
 
 The vessel in its strength ; 
 She shuddered and paused like a frighted steed, 
 
 ihen leaped her cable's length. 
 "Come hither ! come hither I my little daughter. 
 
 And do not tremble so; 
 ^or I can weather the roughest gale 
 
 That ever wind did blow." 
 
 9. He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat 
 Against the stinging blast ; 
 He cut a rope from a broken spar. 
 And bound her to the m^t. 
 
 8. 
 
 't 
 
 ' (I 
 
 ' Skip'per, the m&ster of a small 
 trading or merchant vessel. 
 
 ' RSlm, tljfi instrument by which 
 «■ ship is steered. 
 
 ^ Veer'ing, shifting ; turnii^. 
 
 * FJaw, a sudden biirst of wind. 
 ^Hfir'iri cane, a fierce storm, 
 
 marked by the great fury of tho 
 wind and its sudden changes. 
 
 * A main, with, sudden force. 
 
186 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 10. " fdtber I I hear the chArch-bells ring ; 
 
 say, what may it be ? " 
 " 'Tia a fdg-bell on a rock-bound cOast I " 
 And h steered for the open sea. 
 
 11. "0 father 1 . hear the sound of guns; 
 
 O say, what may it be ? " 
 ** Some ship in distress, that can not Uve 
 In such an angry sea I " 
 
 12. " father I I see a gleaming light j 
 
 say, what may it be ? " 
 But the father answered never a word — 
 A frozen corpse as he. 
 
 IS. Lashed to the helm all stiff and stark,* 
 With his face ttlmed to the skies. 
 The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 
 On his fixed and glassy eyes. 
 
 14. Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 
 
 That siivod she might be ; 
 And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 
 On the lake of Galilee. 
 
 15. And fdst {hrgugh the midnight dark and drear 
 
 Through the whistling sleet and snow. 
 Like a sheet6d ghost, the vessel swept 
 Toward the reef 2 of Norman's Woe. 
 
 16. And ever, the fitful ^ gusts between, 
 
 A sound came from the land ; 
 It was the sound of the trampling siirf * 
 On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 
 
 17. The breakers were right beneath her bows ; 
 
 She drifted a dreary wreck ; 
 And a whooping ^ billow swept the crew, 
 Like icicles, from h6r deck. 
 
 ' Stark, str8ng ; rugged. 
 
 ' Ree^ a chain or line of rocks lying 
 at or near the surface of the water. 
 
 s FIt'ful, often and suddenly ; 
 changeable. 
 
 * Surf (serf), the swell of the sea 
 which breaks upon the shore, or 
 upon sand-banks or rocks. 
 
 ^ Whooping (liQp'ing), crying out 
 with eagerness or enjoyment. 
 
WRECK OF THE WHITE SHIP. 
 
 18. She Btruck whdre the white and fleecy waves 
 
 Looked s6ft as carded wool \ 
 But the €r«el rocks they gored her side 
 Like the horns of an >ry bulL 
 
 19. Her rattling shrouds,^ all sheathed in ice, 
 
 With the mast went by the bOard ; 
 Like a vessel of glAas, she stove and sank— 
 Ho I ho 1 the breakers reared ! 
 W. At daybreak, on tlie bleak sea-beach, 
 A fisherman ^tood aghast,^ 
 To see the form of a maiden fdir 
 Lashed close to a drifting mAsfc. 
 U. The sale sea was frozen on her breaat, 
 The sale tears in her eyes; 
 And he saw her hdir, like the brown sea-weed 
 On the billows fall and rise. 
 n. Such was the wreck of the HCs'perus, 
 In the midnight and the snow ; ' 
 Christ save us all from a death like this, 
 On the reef of Norman's Woe! 
 
 1H7 
 
 II. 
 70. WRECK OF THE WRITE SHIP. 
 
 T N the year 1120, King Henry the First of England 3 went 
 
 1 over to Normandy with his son, Prince William and a 
 
 great retmue,no have the prince acknowledged alrs'succes 
 
 r ^^'^.! ^.""""^ nob]es,Oand to contract a marrTage between 
 
 Inni and the daughter of the Count of AnJQu ^ ^ ^ 
 
 2. Both of these things were triumphantly s done, with grer.t 
 
 Shrouds, a set of ropes, reaching 
 
 rom the mist-heads to the sides of 
 \ vessel, to support the masts. 
 
 'Aghast (agasf), struck with 
 sudden horror or fear. 
 
 ^ England (ing'gland). 
 
 ^ RSt'i nue, a train of attendants. 
 
 ' Sue cds'sor, one who succeeds 
 
 or follows ; one who fills the place 
 which another has left. 
 
 *N6'ble, a person of rank in 
 Europe above the common people • 
 a nobleman. ' 
 
 ^' Aivjou (an'jo). 
 
 * TrI umph'ant ly, victorioualy • 
 wiA joy and rejoicing. ' 
 
 X'Ui 
 

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 DOMimON FOURTH READER. 
 
 i^ow and rejoi9ing ; and on the fw^nty-ftfth of November the 
 whole retinue prepared to embatk at the port of Barfleur^ for 
 the voyage home. On that day, and at tht t pla^e, th^re €ame 
 to the king, Fitz-Stephen, a sea-eaptain, and said : 
 
 3. " My liege,2 my father served your father all hi§ life, upon 
 the sea. He steered the ^ip with the golden boy upon the 
 prow, in wTiidh your father sailed to eonquer England. I 
 beseedh you to grant me the same 6ffi9e. I have a f Air vessel 
 in the harbor here, ealled the White Ship, manned by fifty 
 sailor§ of renown. I pray you, sire,^ to let your servant have 
 the honor of oteering you in the White Ship to England!" 
 
 -^. " I am 36rry, friend," replied the king, " that my vessel is 
 already dh6§en, and that I €an not, therefore, sail witti the son 
 of the man who served my father. But the prin9e and all hig 
 company i^all go along with you, in the fair White Ship, 
 manned by tlie fifty sailor§ of renown." 
 
 5. An hour or two afterward, the king set sail in the vessel 
 he had dho§en, aeeopapanied by other vessel^, and, sailir^ all 
 night with a fdir and gentle wind, arrived upon the eoast of 
 England in the morning. While it wa§ y6t night, the people 
 in some of those ^ips h6ard a faint wild ery eome over the sea, 
 and wondered What it wa§. 
 
 6. Now the prln9e wa§ a young man of eighteen, who of 
 course wa§ witiiout experien9e, who had been indulged in all 
 fhingg, and who§e mind and heart were wholly given to pleasure. 
 He went aboard the White Ship, with one hundred and forty 
 yguthful noble§ like himself, among whom were eighteen noble 
 ladie§ of the highest rank. All this gay company, with tiieir 
 servants and the fifty sailor§, made three hundred soulg aboard 
 the fair White Ship. 
 
 7. " Give fliree casks of wine, Fitz-Stephen," said the prin9e, 
 " to the fifty sailors of renown ? My father, the king, ha§ 
 sailed out of the harbor. What time i§ th^re to make mi^rry 
 here, and y^t readi England with the rest? " 
 
 8. " Prin9e," said Fitz-Stephen, " before morning, my fifty 
 and tfie White Sliip ^all overtake the swiftest vessel ir attend- 
 an9e on your father, the king, if 've sail at midnight!" Then, 
 
 ' Barfleur (Bar fler'). * Sire, a father ; k king or empe- 
 
 " Iiiege, & lord or superior. ror — u§ed ag & title of honor. 
 
 1 
 
 
W-iP^CA- OJ^ THE WHITE SHIP. 1S9 
 
 the prince commandca to make men-„ • „n^ *i. •■ • 
 
 out tl,e three cisks „f wine- ^d ■!,;/"**'"' «"'»" drank 
 
 wrapped in r».X'IZlT^Z:"t ,*' ^""'"' "^'^»' 
 from the cold, talked, langhed aSnT^ *" ?™'*"' *'>^'" 
 "ged the fifty sailors to rOw CSer ysf fo!^? "r^'' ^»«''"- 
 White Ship. •''"' '■*' 'he honor of the 
 
 haard faintlyTn the ^^. The Wht SnilT',^ f '"^ "■»« 
 
 prmce into a boat, with some fi.„„'K7 „'''""' ''**™<"i *« 
 
 per^d; "and row to Ctod Tt '' f»* «*" he whi^ 
 »n>ooth I The .-est of „rm„3 " die » ""' *"' ""'' *«' ^^^ « 
 
 prince ta^ th7™trof T?/ TjjZ ''' 1*"« ^■'* «>« 
 Perche,. calling for help He crifj^ ' ""' "'" ^''"'"oss of 
 any risk I I fan not tdr to eTve "erT»%T' " ^°" '^'^ »' 
 As the prince held out his TIT x. , ''^^ '^'""' •'*=k. 
 nnmbers leaped in that &e S wl*'' 'f ™'--"-' «»«'' 
 B^meinstont the White Ship we^fdo;": ™" ""■*'" '"» 
 
 ^«. Only two men floated. Thov both ^i„„ * ... 
 jard of the ship, which had broSn from fh ^ ^/'"' ™"- 
 snpported them. One asked the ,,!? ? ^"^ ""^'' "'"' "'"' 
 "I am a ..obleman, gXTv bv Irl""'" *^ • «" »aW, 
 L'Aigle. And you " s^d Z Vt""" *««<"><" Gilberts do 
 »f I{o„en,"> wi "he answer Then^t";: "'^^ " '^' '"''^'"'^ 
 1» meroifm to us bothlCd tried t!5 *t"^ '"^ether, "Lord 
 
 ' Perche (p&r^). 
 
 " Rouen (rp'en). 
 
mm 
 
 190 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 be Fitz-Stophen. " Wh6re is the prince ?" said he. "G6ne 1 
 Gone I " the two cried together. " Neither he, nor his brother, 
 nor his sister, nor the king's niece, nor her brother, nor any 
 one of all the brave three hundred, noble or commoner,^ except 
 we three, has risen above the v/ater ! " Fitz-Stephen, with a 
 gh&stly 8 face, cried, " Woe I woe to me! " and sunk to the bottom. 
 
 1J^., The other two clung to the yard for some hours. At 
 length, the young noble said faintly, "I am e.^ i^usted, and 
 chilled with the cold, and ccn hold no longer. Farewell, good 
 friend I Gdd preserve youl" So he dropped and sunk; and 
 of all the brilliant crowd, the poor butcher ^ of Rftuen alone was 
 saved. In the morning some fishermen saw him floating in his 
 sheepskin coat, and got him into their boat — the sole reiater 
 of the dismal tale. 
 
 15. For three days no one dared to carry the intelligence to 
 the king. At length, they sent into his presence a little boy, 
 who, weeping bitterly, and kneeling at his feet, told him that 
 the White Ship was Idst, with all on board. The king fell to 
 the ground like a dead man, and never, never afterward was 
 seen to smile. 
 
 III. 
 
 71, HE J^EVER SMILED AGAIJsT, 
 
 THE bark tha^ held a prince went down. 
 The sweeping waves rolled on ; 
 And what was England's glorious crown. 
 
 To him that wept a son? 
 He lived — ^for life may 16ng be borne, 
 
 Ere s6rrow break its chain : 
 Why comes not death to those who mourn ? 
 He never smiled again ! 
 
 &. Th^re stdbd proud forms before his throne, 
 The stately and the brave ; 
 But which could fill the place of one — 
 The one beneath the wave ? 
 
 ' OSm'mon er, one of the com- 
 mon people ; one belCw the rank of 
 nobility. 
 
 ^ ahasUy (g&st'll), like a gliost 
 in appearance ; death-like ; pale. 
 
 3 Butcher (b^t^'er). 
 
THE VOICE OF THE GRASS, 
 
 Before him passed the young and mir 
 In pldaflure's rgckldse train ; ' 
 
 But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hdir- 
 He never smiled again I 
 
 8. He sat wh6re festal bowls went round • 
 
 He heard the minstrel » sing • ' 
 
 He saw the toArney'sS victor crowned. 
 
 Amidst the knightly ring: 
 A miirmAr of the restless deep 
 
 Was blent with every strain • 
 A voice of winds that would not sleep- 
 
 ■tie never smiled again 1 
 
 i. Hearts in that time closed o'er the trace 
 Of vows once fondly poured 
 And strangers took the kinsman's place 
 At many a joyous board. * 
 
 Graves which tr«e love had bathed with tears 
 
 ''ere left to Heaven's bright min ; 
 i^r^h hopes were bom for other years- 
 He never smiled again! 
 
 191 
 
 " •%•*- 
 
 SECTION XVII. 
 I. 
 
 72, THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 
 
 i5y the dusty roadside, 
 On the sunny hill-side, 
 Close by the no^'sy brdbk, 
 In every shady nook, 
 I come creeping, creeping every where 
 
 r^^^tf'rZI^^Z^ -fetin.es, those wr-;;;;;!;;;^;;,; 
 
 talned their living Jf sin^„Vto ,n vT"^^ ^*^'*^°^^' ^ "^"^^ ^''t 
 tl^e harp, ve..es ff thVr own' ^ en^g^! ' ""'"' ""' ^"^"^ "^^ 
 
192 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 S. Here I come creeping, smiling every wh6re ; 
 All round the open door, 
 Wh^re sit the agod poor ; 
 Here where the children play, 
 In the bright and mSrry May, 
 I come creeping, creeping every where. 
 
 5. Here I come creeping, creeping every where ; 
 
 In the noisy city street 
 My pleasant face you'll meet. 
 Cheering the sick at heart 
 Toiling his busy part — 
 Silently creeping, creeping every where. 
 
 4. Here I come creeping, creeping every where ; 
 You can not see me coming. 
 Nor hear my low sweet humming ; 
 For in the starry night, 
 Ard t^e glad noming light, 
 I come quietly creeping every where. 
 
 6. Here I come creeping, creeping every where; 
 
 More welcome than the flowers 
 In Summer's plejisant hours ; 
 The gentle cow is glad. 
 And the merry bird not sad. 
 To see me creeping, creeping e"9ery where. 
 
 6. Here I come creeping, creeping every where; 
 
 Whon y I're numbered with the dead. 
 In your jtill and narrow bed. 
 In the happy Spring I'll come 
 And deck your silent home — 
 Creeping, silently creeping every where. 
 
 7, Here I come creeping, creeping every where; 
 
 My humble sdng of praise 
 Most joyfully T raise 
 To Him at whose command 
 I beautify the land, 
 Creeping, silently creeping everywhere. 
 
THE P/TCJiEJi PLANT. 
 
 193 
 
 II. 
 
 73. spRij^a RAm. 
 
 valley, grove, ™d 'Z'XZ Z L?,"""' ""* ""P' ""'' 
 to break ihe calm of nat .^ ' .**"" " '""""' '"-day 
 
 «.y,of life, or l!vL c^tr „r """T' ^ ""«'" '""»''«* 
 
 l.aarf the leaves and Lrm?grow™f ''"" "*'' '"'"^^«' ' 
 
 »■ I stood to hear— I love it »»li h. 
 sound; small drops, but think l7f-7^^ J™"' continuous 
 upon the ground • for iLfvH " ' "'"^ '""' ''<'«■' «tn»ght 
 breast t» eereen thourf? •^„„ ""f'' '.' "•" ^o'' Ea^h's naked 
 shoots of tenderer* ^ ""''"'"^ '"*"«'' " »«* with 
 
 thi,kstheirsweet::r:ft;arg. ^le^vZ rth'tr.'"*- ■""■ 
 
 amber light. *""■ " P'"'"''g g'<««n breaks forth of 
 
 III. 
 74. THE PITCHER PLAJVr. 
 
 O^ye^aZ^^'r', " '!""'''''"'-^««! more than a hundred 
 
 tH.oughrs:fttrn"^^J::;^-c1."^^^^^ 
 
 ' Oai'i for'niiL rihT^II '. . 
 
 Jions established there were at Tn S" '"'^'^ ^" ^'^^'"'^ P«>Pert7. 
 Die'go in 1769, and seven years later n . r.""*"^ ^*« '^^'^^d to the 
 
 --.wi^co. rnie^xs r;ora:ir;r*^*"-* 
 
194 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 that lately discovered land, and wstsj then seeking a station 
 whore ho proposed to meet a band he had visited the preceding 
 year. 
 
 2. Journeying on foot, directing his course by sun or stars, 
 and guided by euch wood-craft as he had learned from his 
 dusky neophytes,! }^q had traveled far. His soul, filled with the 
 burning zeal of one who carries the glad tidings of redemption 
 to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, 
 scarcely heeded the demands of the body. 
 
 3. On this day, however, his strength was sorely tried. Hour 
 after hour he had journeyed over the arid^ plain toward the 
 distant forest. He was parched with thirst and looked in vain 
 for settle cooling stream, or even for the shelter of some great 
 rock, where he might for a time take refuge from the pitiless 
 beams of the burning sun. 
 
 Jf. But no! he must struggle onward still. At length the 
 wished-for f6rest is reached, and he has just strength enough to 
 pass its borders, aiid drop prostrate under its shadow. But the 
 pangs of thirst still torment him, and, unable to move farther, 
 he lifts every leaf his hand can reach in hopes to find some few 
 drops of moisture concealed beneath them. 
 
 6. Presently he noticed a leaf, curiously twisted, as he 
 thought, by a freak of nature; ' ^t another glance showed him 
 quite a cluster similarly formed. Each leaf was supported on a 
 slender stem, and gradually expanded into an open cone ; the 
 upper edges forming a graceful outline resembling that of an 
 antique drinking-horn. Its color was dark green, beautifully 
 veined with crimson. 
 
 6. Struck by its peculiar appearance, the missionary soon 
 discovered that its cavity was filled with the water lor which he 
 was perishing. In a transport of gratitude and wonder, he 
 knelt on the dry turf, blessed himself, and then, bending tiie 
 slender stem of the leaf, wet his parched mouth witn this re- 
 freshing water. Leaf after leaf was thus drained until his fever 
 was assuaged." 
 
 7. His soul went up to G6d in an act of adoring love before 
 this little plant, whose leaves, hidden in a thicket, showed so 
 
 ' Ne'o ph^te, one recently ad- * Ar'id, dry ; parched with heat, 
 initted into the Church by baptism. " As 8ua^dd', lessened ; relieved 
 
MIDSUMMER, ^gg 
 
 and a pmyer of S^^^^^^^^ '' '^^^-^"^ strength, 
 
 the humble plant anTS^ it i^^n'T^^^^^ 
 
 drink of it in weariuel ^""^ ^^ ^^^ "^'g*^*^ »^"eafter 
 
 IV. 
 
 7^. riy^ J^ATIVE LAJVB, 
 
 /^ LEAR fount of lightl my native land on hi^h 
 y- . Bright with a glory that .hall never f^^' 
 Mansion of t.«th I without a veil or shJe 
 1 hy holy quiet meets the spirit's eye. 
 There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, 
 Gaspmg no longer for life's feeble breath • 
 But sentineled in Heaven, its glorious pr;8ence 
 ^.th pitying eye beholds, yet Lrs not,^drth 
 Beloved country I banished from thy shOre 
 A stranger in this prison-house of clay, ' 
 The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for thee I 
 
 DrXr' wf^' ''"^^^ P^^^^^*^«°« I «dore 
 
 Thl; f".K ? '""" P'^'"'^^ ^^^^^^rs the way, 
 
 That, whither love aspires, there shall my dwelling be. 
 
 SECTION XVIII. 
 I. 
 
 76. MIDSUMMER, 
 
 -pHROUGH all the 16ng midsummor-day 
 X Ihe meadow-sides are sweet witli hay. 
 I seek the ccoldst sheltered seat 
 Just where the field and fdrest meet,- 
 Where grow the pine-trees tall and bland, 
 ihe ancient oaks austere ^ and grand 
 And fringy ro-ots and pebbles fret 
 The ripples of the rivulet.^ 
 
 Au stere', harsh ; rough. 
 
 * RJv'u let, a small river or brook. 
 
196 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ^^- 
 
 2. I watdh the m6wer§ a§ they go 
 
 ThrQugh the tall gr&ss, a White-sleeved row ; 
 With even stroke their scythe^ they swing, 
 In tune their merry \«Tietstone§ ring ; 
 Behind the nimble youngster§ run 
 And t6ss the thick swaflis * in the sun ; 
 The €attle graze ; vsTiile warm and still, 
 Slopes the broad pasture, basks ^q hill, 
 And bright, When summer breeze§ break, 
 The green Wheat €rinkle§2 like a lake. 
 
 • Swath (swafh), a line of gr4ss or 
 grain formed in mowing or €radling. 
 
 ^Crinkles (kringk'lz), rung in 
 and out in ^oi-t beud§ or tfim§. 
 
 
y'iE POOR STUDENT OF SARZANA. 
 
 S. The butterfly and humbie-beo 
 
 Come to ihe pleasant 'jroods with me- 
 Quickly beftirc me ruiiri the quail, ' 
 The chickens ski:lk behind the mil 
 High 11]) the lone wood-pigeon sita ' 
 And the wood|)ecker pecks and flits. 
 
 4. Sweet woodland music sinks and swells. 
 Ihe brooklet rngs its tinkling bells, 
 The swarming insects drone and hum. 
 The par^.ridge Imats his throbbing drum, 
 Ihe squL-rel leaps among the boughs. 
 
 And chatters hx his leafy house. 
 
 The oriole flashes by ; and, look ! 
 
 Into the mirror of the brook 
 
 Where the vain blue-bird trims his coat. 
 
 1 wo tiny feathers fall and fldat. 
 
 5. As silently, as tenderly, 
 
 The down of peace descends on me. 
 Oil, this 18 peace I I have no need 
 Of friend to talk, of book to read : 
 Contentment in my heart abides, 
 A dreamy cftlm upon me glides, 
 And lulled to rest by summer's voice, 
 1 he and listen, and rejoice. 
 
 197 
 
 11. 
 rr. THE POOR STUDENT OF SARZAJ^A. 
 "nPHE Poor Student of Sarzana, and y^t he was the com- 
 X panion of saints and of learned men f T .\^l f T 
 
 hi Am"^^^^^^ L" '"' ^' ^"'^ "''^^^ ' universities,^ esp^cl: ly 
 u America. To be a poor student is to be shut out from all 
 
 hs charming companionship, even if such a per. on LuTds^^^^^ 
 ceed in getting into a university at all." ""' 
 
 Jil^^^i^^S^^^^^^^^ must rem^m- 
 
 ver'sl ty, a echopl or m sxe taught all branches of leamii^ 
 
198 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 bor that tho old Catholic universities of Europe, wheM morjks 
 •yere tho great doctors and professors, were very different ]ilaceH 
 from the universities of to-day. Tho Beiiedit'tines, the Domini- 
 cans, the Franciscans and their br&nches, sent out scholars who 
 have been tho admiration of tho world. 8omo of these scholars 
 came from princely castles, others f'-oni tho cottages of peas- 
 ants; yet all were united in one great religious family. 
 
 3. "Each student when he entered the monastery * became a 
 child of this family. If ho had talents, hip superiors were not 
 only willing, but eager to give him every faciUty required for 
 their fullest development; so that a promising novice'' hud 
 remarkable advantages." 
 
 4. " But what if this genius were simply a student and not a 
 novice?" — "In that case, the members of these Orders, which 
 presided^ as I have said over tho universities, being unworldly 
 men, if they saw a peer istudout' "Like our poor student of 
 Sarzana ? " 
 
 5. "Yes, Eugend, like our poor student of Sarzana, they im- 
 mediately recognized and encourpged his luerlt. Loving learn- 
 ing as they did, the monks naturally loved those whoso genius 
 could illustrate * learning ; and in those days, poverty was not 
 so despised as it is in cur age." 
 
 6*. " Ah, I see now how my poor student could have such 
 companions." Charlie, who had been listening with interest, 
 here entered into the conversation with the questions, "Who 
 was this poor student of Sarzana? What did he accomplish ! " 
 
 7. "This Thomas of Sarzana," replied Brother Thomas, "be- 
 came a Cardinal. On the death of Pope Eugenius IV. in 1447, 
 he was chosen as his successor, and ascended the Papal throne 
 under the name of Nicholas V." — "He was a Pope then — Pope 
 of Rome!" — "Yes, Charlie, and his name stands high in the 
 long list of those Popes who, by their virtues and talents, have 
 made the Holy See illustrious in the ey^e of all men. 
 
 8. " At that time there were many Greeks at Rome who had 
 been driven from their native country by tho continual irrup- 
 
 ' Mfin'as ter /, a house of reli- vows and become a member, 
 
 gious retirement. * re sid'ed, gove.'n«>d ; directed. 
 
 ^ NSv'ice, one who enters a reli- ^ II lils' trate, to riake distin- 
 
 gious house intending to take the guished ; to explain what is obscure. 
 
 1 
 
'be- 
 
 THE POOR STUDENT OF SA:.ZANA. U)0 
 
 tio,.«» of 1 ho cruel T„rkH,«rd who bn.uKht with the a such of 
 
 heir |K,H8es8.on8 oh woyld n .t hnpedo thc.'ir flight. Amonir 
 
 theao w<3ro muiiy precious nmnu8criptH.» Nichohw V wi- 
 
 ulwuys eager to parchaae any such at ugonerouH price. He also 
 
 Offered rewards t<, all who would ,hid and bring to hini my 
 
 manuscripts of value. ^ 
 
 9 " In this way ho ftccumulatcd five thoua,uul .,f those ehoieo 
 
 wntHigs, the m-hest collection that h-id been u.i.Ie since the 
 
 destruction of the Alexa.idria lil>rary."-"That w.is nmgnili- 
 
 cc^t! 3 exclaimed I,6th boys. " And now, Charlie," said Eugene, 
 
 I will r..ul to you the remainder of this sketch of the life o 
 
 M icholas V. : 
 
 10. « To him wo owe the present basilica of St. Peter's. His 
 Idea was to build a church w!iich should be .o Ohristc.ndom 
 what tie temple at Jerusalem was to the tribes of Israel To 
 this end, .t should be grand in its pro ortions and in its archi- 
 tecture,und to this object he devoted all the means really at his 
 command. ^ 
 
 11. «He began this majestic undertaking, and rebuilt the 
 V atican palace, julding to it a library for its precious manu- 
 scripts, i-d gallenes for its works of art. T-.vo ex'qufsite chapels 
 of hiE erection remain to this day, memorials of his imb^ and 
 devotion. One is called the chapel of the Blesse; Silcrament, 
 and the other scarcely larger than an oratory, was named for 
 his patron St. Nicholas. 
 
 12 "These chapelg are adorned with pictures from the hand 
 of a holy monk, Fra Angelica The subjects of these paintings 
 are all sacred, many of them from the Passion of our Lord 
 othera from the lives of the early martyrs." « Brother Thomai 
 iiere interrupted the reading to say, "Yes, boys, I have seen 
 eogravings of three of these paintings which portray the his- 
 tory of St St«ph. n, the first martyr. I admired thorn, so much 
 that all other pictures on the same subject have appeared to me 
 ^arseand worthless in comparison." 
 
 ' Ir riip'tion, a sudden entrance 
 of invaders into a country. 
 
 » MSn'u coripts, books in writ- 
 Jnpr ; the Cnly form of books before 
 the invontion of printing. 
 
 » Ma jr Dlf i c ent, on a |fwind scale. 
 
 * Vat'i can, a palace of the Popes 
 on the Vatic xn hill, adjoining' the 
 celebrated church of St. Peter's. 
 
 * Mar'tjrr, one who suffers death 
 in consequence of his adherence to 
 the Christian fftitU. 
 
 ,.■; 
 
200 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 13. " Is there anything more ? " said Charlie. " Very little, 
 except the notice of his sorrow on the death of his mother." — 
 "I had forgotten that Popes hud mothers." — "But Pope 
 Nicholas did ^ot forget his mother, and always manifested his 
 respect and affecfciqn for her. She died at the advanced age of 
 eighty, during a pilgrimage which she undertook from Sarzana 
 to Rome in the Jubilee* year of 1450/' 
 
 III. 
 78. THE SUMMER RAIM. 
 
 OH the rain, the beautiful rain ! 
 Cheerily, merrily falls, 
 Beating its wings 'gainst the window-pane, 
 
 Trickling down the walls — 
 Over the mfiadow with pattering feet. 
 Kissing the clover-blossoms sweet, 
 Singing the blue-bells fast asleep. 
 Making ttie pendent " willows weep,- 
 
 Over the hillside brown, 
 
 Over the dusty town. 
 
 Merrily, cheerily, cometh it down, 
 The rain, the summer rain ! 
 
 S. Oh the rain, the welcome rain I 
 
 S6ftly, kindly, it falls 
 On tiny flower and thirsting plain. 
 
 And vine by the cottage- walls ; 
 Laughingly tipping the lily's cup, 
 It filloth the Crystal ch3,li9e3 up. 
 Joyously greeting the earth that thrills 
 Through her thousand veins of gathering rills — 
 
 Over the violet's bed. 
 
 Over the sleeping dead, 
 
 Cometh with kindly tread 
 The rain, the gentle rain ! 
 
 ' Ju' bi lee, every twenty-fifth 
 year, at which time unusual spiritual 
 advantages are granted to Catholics, 
 who undertake a pilgrimage to 
 Rome, Of perfonn other Hcts of 
 
 faith or charity prescribed by the 
 Holy Father. 
 
 ** PSud'ent, supported from above ; 
 supported ; hauging. 
 
 ' OHaViatt. a o!iD or bowL 
 
BLIND AGNES. 
 S. Oh the rain, the cheering rain! 
 
 ,1.1..^"^^"^ ^^^^^y* ^^^6% <Jown, 
 Wh^re spreading fields of golden grain 
 
 The sloping hillsides crown ; 
 Flecking with dimples the lake's cftlm face, 
 Quickening the schoolboy's tardy pace, 
 Caressing a bud by a wayside stone, 
 leaving a gem as it paases on, 
 
 In the daisy's breast, 
 
 On the this/le'g crest,* 
 
 And the buttercup richly blest 
 By the rain, the generous rain I 
 
 201 
 
 « 
 
 SECTION XIX. 
 I. 
 
 79. BLmB AGJVES. 
 nPELL me, what is your name, my child?" i\^^ «m i a 
 
 xney call me Bhnd Agnes ; and sometimes, in their snorfflTo 
 children name me also iho. t U4.i q « 7 sport, the 
 
 ment." ' *^^^ ^P^"'^ °^ *^« ^^essM S&cra- 
 
 2. " Little Spouse of the Blessed Sacrament " said f h. i a 
 
 lady, were it not for Him »-^or »hZ ^tZ "" ^'y- 
 Jke"S°F™„^Ar' ^"f '"°' ""'"«'' •■* '« " """fort ato. I 
 
202 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 '&■ 
 
 
 \ 
 
 v/ho made us bo£h; 
 of Him who dwell - 
 ^£h ever with us on 
 our altars." — " Yon 
 speak of G6d, ray 
 dhild," said the lady, 
 reverently. " He, 
 in truth, i§ every- 
 where ; but you ean not see Him oti the altar ? " 
 
 5. "No; but I know Him to be there. I feel that He i§ 
 with me, and I with Him, and so I do not need eye§ to see 
 Him." — " And i§ there nothing, then, you want to see ? " The 
 old lady went on, as it were^ in her own despite,* for she felt all 
 the danger of awakening regret in so tlioughtful a mind. 
 
 6. "The light, for instance — the glorious light of heaven, the 
 Bun, the moon, the myriads of star§ that tell us of tlie glory of 
 their Maker?" — "No," said the dhild, "for I have Him who 
 made them, and He Himself i§ the 'light of the world.'" — "Or 
 the beautiful fii9e of nature — the deep valley, tiie mighty moun- 
 tain, or tliat mountain of mountain^ — your own Vesuvius ? " 
 
 pe spite', in opposition to, 
 
BLIND AGNES. 
 
 203 
 
 7 I have Him/' said the child, in an untroubled voice 
 and He 18 mightier than all His work8.»-«Or the buildings' 
 of your city the stately ^ palaces, tlie sacred temples? Ydndfr 
 httle chtirch for instence, which we have just quitted and 
 which might have been the work of angels or of flesTi is so 
 spint-liko and full of grace ? " 
 
 8. "These are but the creations of man, lady;" and there 
 wa5 a shade of grave rebuke in Agnes' voice ; " and if I long not 
 tosee^e.works shall I sigh to look upon the works of-His 
 XtT- T'"'^S"««'*he.flowers,at least, are His own 
 work, tell me, do you not sometimes sigh to gaze upon the 
 
 soXi^itndP'?^ '" "^^^^^^ '^ P^^'"^^^ -- ^^^« «^'^' 
 
 9. "They are soft to the touch, and sweet to the senses" 
 Agnes answered after a moment's pause. "And He was cailJd 
 the 'flower of the root of Jesse.' So they miist be precious 
 
 hings those flowers 1 But yet," she added, in an assured ^ and 
 carnes tone, «I do not regret them, for I have Him, and He 
 made them, and, beautiful as they are. He must be a thousand 
 million of times more beautiful than they " 
 
 JL'^^^^l '^"'^'" '^'^ ^^' ^"^^' "^^^y- "H« ^^> indeed, 
 robbed you of yoiir sorrow; would that I knew where you had 
 
 found Him, that I might go and seek Him also."--" Do you 
 not know where to find Him?" said Agnes, in great surprise. 
 He IS ever on the altar; if you are in sorrow, go and seek Him 
 there, and He will speak sweet comfort to your soul " 
 
 n. The lady did not answer. Something in the child's voice 
 and manner had recalled sad memories to her mind, and her 
 tears were falling fast, nor did she try to check « them, until 
 they had nearly gained the grove to which their footsteps were 
 directed^ .ow 6{tcn during the drive back to Naples, did the 
 words of Agnes recArUo her memory-" If you are in sorrow, 
 go and seek Him or the altar, and He will speak sweet comfort 
 to your soul." 
 
 1^. She was not a Catholic, this old laxly, or she would have 
 ^^^!^g^i!!!jg^i^"jf^l tliese simple words-the holy 
 
 ■ StSte'ly, imposing ; handsome ; doubt, or hesitation! 
 ofgroat dignity. , oh«ck. to ston ■ to hi„H., 
 
 -^ ..«rt»a , wiwout uncertaintjr, * Ro cur, to come back a^in. 
 
11 ! 
 
 r ' 
 
 W4 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 tr\}th, that He, whose dwelling is in the bosom of His Father, 
 has also made Himself a home among the children of men, 
 where He imparts to them the sweetness of that sacred 
 Humanity, whose bitteruess He has reserved for Himself 
 alone. 
 
 13. And so He comes to us, the Virgin's Child, the meek and 
 lowly Jesus, to dwell forever with us in the s&crament of His 
 love, never again to be absent, even for an hour, from the 
 world 01* His redemption and special ^ predilection ^ — ever living 
 for us, with us, and among us. 
 
 IJt, In the noon- tide glAre, in the midnight gloom — in the 
 crowded city and in the lonely country places — everywhere is 
 He found upon our altars giving rest to the weary, comfort to 
 the afflicted, and calmer and holier joy to the glad of heart ; 
 leaving it to no creature of garth to say that he sought his Lord 
 and had not found Him. 
 
 15. Happy they who hearken to the loving invitation, " Come 
 unto Me," and who', if not always in the body, always at least 
 in spirit and desire, dwell beneath the sh&dow of His altars 
 amidst the infinite riches of His Real Presence. 
 
 II. 
 80. THE KEAVEKLY COUJ^TRY. 
 
 FOR thee, dear, dear country. 
 Mine eyes their vigils keep; 
 For very joy, beholding 
 
 Thy happy name, they weep. 
 The mention of thy glory 
 
 Is unction ' to the breast. 
 And medicine in sickness. 
 And love, and life, and rest. 
 
 2. one, only mansion, 
 paradise of joy, 
 
 ■ SpS'cial, more than ordinary. loved the world which He afterward 
 ' Pre di Wc'tion, loving before- redeemed. 
 hand • aa Ohrist from the beginning * Uno'tlon, soothing : refreshing. 
 
/ 
 
 THE LITTLE CASH BOY. 
 
 Where tears are ever banished, 
 
 And smiles have no alloy; 
 Beside thy living waters 
 
 All plants are, great and small. 
 The cedar of the f6rest. 
 
 The hyssop 1 of the wall. 
 
 . Witii jaspers glow thy bulwarks; 
 
 Thy streets with emeralds blaze; 
 The Sardinia and the topaz 
 
 Unite in thee their rays. 
 Thine ageless walls are bonded 
 
 With amethyst unpriced ; 3 
 Thy saints build up the fabric, 
 
 And the corner-stone is Christ. 
 
 III. 
 
 81. THE LITTLE CASH BOY. 
 
 201 
 
 D^NeTyorr'Th'^rr "'''/'' '^^^"^ ^^*^" '^^^-^ - 
 \-* / "^^® ^^ "^^^ one boy there lighter nn 
 
 h^ feet, or more quick to hear and to answer a caH than DaT 
 Then he always had a men-y smile on his face and a met^ wo d 
 on his hps. As a matter of coum., there was not airter 
 favorite among the regiment of cash-boys than he ^ 
 
 ^. rhe partnei-s of the rich frrm,^ noticing his bri«hf in+.ir 
 gent face, and quick ways, spoke favombirof h m Wh o W 
 and predicted for him a bright futurP rUt? a ii ^^^' 
 
 with tHe p..„, thought .t^^of r f^^;':itt:f 
 
 S. Then for the first time he looked around !,;»« ^-w, 
 penetmtmgeje, and t*k in the iSt ™ a vi^tWdt^t H 
 w.a beautifal thi.gs for rich ,«oplo to b„;. He ™S a he 
 had never noticed before, the co„,em,tion^and mrne« ^f th! 
 noh »^o„er3, and he ascertained by deg^. Z't^^ 11« 
 
 ' HjN'sop, an aromatic plant. 
 ' Sar'di us, a precious stone • 
 
 « Unpriced', beyond all valuatSon. 
 Firm, the name under wlifoh a 
 company transacts business. 
 
^06 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 V 
 
 4. What grand houses those were I Passing them at evening 
 on his way home, he saw them brilliantly lighted witti gas, filled 
 with cdstly furniture, adorned with beautiful pictures and 
 statuary. At such times, a longing arose in his soul to possess a 
 home like some of these, and when he found himself at the door 
 of his father's small dwelling, it looked dingy and poor to him. 
 
 6. The natural result of all these observations and reflections 
 was that Dan made up his mind to be a rich man. But his 
 Catholic faith colored his day-dreams in this wise : " I will be 
 rich," lie said to himself, " and of course I will have a beautiful 
 homo, but I will also give to the poor, and help to build 
 churches, and do a great deal of good. So the quicker I get 
 rich the better." 
 
 6. Things had come to this high-water mark in Dan's mind 
 when an incident ^ occurred that suggested to him reflections of 
 an entirely different character, and so interfered 2 with his glow- 
 ing pictures of wealth and prosperity as quite to disturb him. 
 
 7. For some time past, Dan had missed from the crowd of 
 gay customers at the store, one sweet face which had won him 
 by its bright smile and the kindness of the modest eyes. He 
 knew where this lovely lady lived, and he had hgai'd that she 
 was a Catholic, beautiful, admired, and rich. 
 
 5. Little fellow as he was, it made him happy to see her, and 
 he u§ed to think how good it would be if there were thousands 
 of guch Catholics in the city, and he were one of them. Ho 
 did not know that the riches of the Church are her poor, and 
 that wealth is full of temptations against piety. 
 
 9. When this lady ceased to frequent the store, he concluded 
 that she had gdne to Europe, or had made a grand marriage. 
 What, then, was his surprise one day to see her enter in the 
 habit of a " Little Sister of the Poor " ? The sweet face was as 
 lovely, the smile as bright, the modest eyes as kind as ever, and 
 her step as graceful as, when clothed in c6stly fabrics,^ she moved 
 over carpeted floors. 
 
 10. He had been greatly interested in her as a realization of 
 his ideal * — a faithful and devoted child of the Church, endowed 
 
 ' In'ci dent, an event ; an occur- 
 rence. 
 ^ In ter fered', oppoHed ; clashed. 
 
 ^ FSb'rics, manufactured goods. 
 * I de'al, a standard or model of 
 perfection or of duty. 
 
THE LITTLE CASH BOY. ^gy 
 
 with all the external gifts of fortunp mffo ^u ^ u 
 beginning to appreciate^ and to deri:^ ~^ """ ^' "^ J"=' 
 .11. Now, nhere was Dan's ideal ? Vani.ho^ i wii. , . 
 oly not usnal with him, he carried her bundl^. Lf !^^ " ""'t 
 from one counter to another broLhl W tK 1 ^"'^ ^"^ 
 
 i^. As the weeks passed, Dan said to himself, "She had all 
 
 accomplishments." ^' ^ '''^^^ ^"^ '^ '"^"y 
 
 /4. Dan saw that th^re wCre other ways of servintr cka i 
 U. Church than by getting rieh, and rtlfo."- "of the" 
 bihties of losmg one's soul in the crort and struggle requM 
 One pay-day he told Mr. Price that he would give un his 2!^' 
 and that he knew of a boy who could fill it ^ ^^"'^ 
 
 15. "Ah, Dan ! how is this? If you want more wages we 
 nil g,ve you as much as any firm in the city wHl S" 
 
 01 more money. To-morrow, sir, I enter a religious order as a 
 nov.ce, for I have made up my mind that I cfn do be ter for 
 
 fortune' "' '"' "'^ '^ ""^ "^^ ''^^'^ ' -"'^ ^^ -^ktg " 
 
 est'e'Jof Dan ''th "'1^ "'" l^^''^ ^ "°°^«"* ^^*« *he hon- 
 
 sa d ^'r^d^l "' ^'T''f '"' ^^""^ «^ *J^« J^'« head, he 
 
 «aid, Gdd bless you, my boy ! I have no doubt you could b« 
 
 l^eh£_you w^ntedj^be^b^^ the bTter ptt." 
 ' Appreciate (ap pre'ahi ate), to set a value"oa 
 
 
 4 
 
i08 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 IV. 
 82. THE WREATH TJKFADIMG. 
 
 THE golden thrones blazed out like fire. 
 Amidst the sea of white, 
 And ungel bands joined happy hands 
 
 Witii fdirest flowers bedight ; * 
 It was a festal "^ day in heaven, 
 Of infinite delight. 
 
 2. In bright array, with garlands gay, 
 The happy angels sped, 
 " With something sweet, oh, let us greet 
 
 Our Lord to-day ! " they said. 
 " Can we not find a zweafli to bind 
 His ever-glorious Head ? 
 
 S. " A wreath of flowers — for flowers are fdir — 
 
 His handiwork they are. 
 With here and there a jewel rAre, 
 
 And here and there a star, 
 A wi-eath of radiance and of light. 
 
 With glory gleaming far ? " 
 
 4. " Dear unto God are stars and flowers," 
 
 A seraph's voice replied ; 
 *' And yet I know what He would love 
 
 Far more than all beside, 
 A wreath of souls, oh, let it be. 
 
 Of souls for whom He died ! " 
 
 5. Whereon bright angels swiftly sped 
 
 To earth's unlovely shore. 
 And each a young child's sinless soul 
 
 To heaven in triumph bore ; 
 And mothers wept upon the 6arth, 
 
 Whose children were no more. 
 
 6. And wiiii those souls a wreath they made. 
 
 Wherewith to crown their King ; 
 And at His feet with homage meet. 
 
 > Be dight', adorned ; bedecked. ^ F^s'tal, pertaiuiuK to a feast. 
 
THE PELICAN. 
 
 They laid their Offering; 
 Oh, ititinite and rdre delight. 
 Oh, joy uo tongue can sing ! 
 
 7. But many wept on garth the while. 
 And would not be consoled ; 
 
 The children fAir w6re lying th^re, 
 All stiff, and still, and cold; 
 
 And nothing of the soul's delight 
 Those lifeless bodies told. 
 
 209 
 
 u 
 
 SECTION XX. 
 I. 
 
 8S. THE PELICAM, 
 
 /^H, grandpa! grandpa! please make one of your beautiful 
 \^ pelicans on my new slate ; " and Anna held up her new 
 
 slate and sharp-pointed pencil in the most coaxing wuy possible. 
 
 Witii a kind smile, like nobody's in the world but grandpa^s. he 
 
 took the sharp-pointed pencil in his hand. 
 
 fnK^^^\' ^^'^ '^'^ ^^ ' " ^"""^ '^^" ^'® ^^^^^ the pelican ? " 
 - Uh, with its head over its wing, looking back at all the 
 other pe leans," said Anna. Grandpa's skill in making pelicans 
 w^§ really wonderful. After a flourishing stroke with Ws pen- 
 cil Anna saw her favorite bird sitting on its nest of coarse 
 grass. Its long neck tiiraed gracefully over its wing, lo^okin^, as 
 she said, for the other pelicans. ^ 
 
 S. But one pelican was not enough, and grandpa's patience 
 seemed equal to her demands. Large ones and small ones 
 appeared on the slate as if by magic, until Anna fdiriy clapped 
 iier hands with delight. When she had watched grandpa's 
 skillful fingers for a while, she said : 
 
 J. "Is th^re really such a bird as the pelican, grandpa?"-. 
 Ub, yes, my dear, and a very famous bird it is, too."— « Where 
 
 ttfVrir '/I'^'S n""*- ""^"^""^ *^^ «««^^y Mountain? or 
 tlie cliffs of the Yellowstone, that cousin Dink fold n. a»L»f 
 
 iast evening ? In some of those wild places, i suppose ? » 
 
 , lEFl 
 
I ' 
 
 210 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 r 
 
 5. " Oh, a great denl further dflf than the YellowBtone or the 
 Rocky Mountains. As far oflf as Africa and Asia. They are 
 found, too, in some parts of Europe, as in lliingary and along 
 the river D&nubo." — " Shall we never see thorn in Canada ?"— 
 " Not unless we see them in books, I thirjk," said grandpa. 
 
 €). " But I can tell you a good deal About them. Tliey are as 
 largo as the swpns you see on the lake in the Park. Their 
 feathers are white like those of the swan, 6nly with a rosy tint 
 where the plumage is thick; the wing and tail feathers are just 
 tipped with black, and they have a crest of yellowish feathers 
 on their heads. 
 
 7. "Their bills are more than a foot Ifing, almost fifteen 
 inches, and at the end of this long, flat bill is a sharp hook, 
 which I shall tell you more al out by-and-by. They live on the 
 sea-coast, especially where large rivers flow into the ocean, and 
 on the shores of lakos and marsheg.* 
 
 8. " Whenever a fish leaps into the air or swims into the sun- 
 shine, the pelican Is sv}re to see it, and swims as fast as the fish, 
 which it catches in its bill. It does not swallow its prey, how- 
 ever, but drops it into a pouch or bag under its bill." — "Oh, 
 yes, grandpa! these are the pouches which you make under 
 their bills," said Anna, pointing to the pelicans on the slate. 
 
 .9. " These pouches," grandpa went on to say, " are to the 
 pelicans just what Fred's basket, which he swings over his 
 shoulder, is to him when he goes fishing. The pelican puts the 
 fish into this bag until it has caught enough for its breakfast, 
 dinner, or supper." — "But what sort of a house does the pelican 
 have, grandpa ? " 
 
 10. "It liuilds a nest on the shore wherever it can find a 
 cleft in the rock near the water. It lays four or five eggs, which 
 are very white. The pelican brings fish to its young ones in its 
 pouch. But instead of having a lid to the pouch, like Fred's 
 basket, the pelican presses against it the sharp point of its bill, 
 and the fish come out all ready to drop into the bills of the 
 young pelicans, who are generally v6ry hungry. 
 
 Ih " But this is not all," continued grandpa. " If anything 
 happens, and the mother-pelican has no fish for its brood,* 
 
 ' Marsh' es, low lands covered 
 
 Wicxi a E5ii"» ..™ --. .. 
 
 " Brood, a number of young birds 
 pf one liatchiner. 
 
 I 
 
n^ffV THE ROBIN^S BREAST JS RED. iU 
 
 instead of letting them Btarve, she presses this sharp point of 
 her bill against her breast until it bleeds, and thus fe^s h^r 
 young ones with her own blood."^"Oh, how good the ^ can 
 are, grandpa 1 No wonder I love them I » "e pencans 
 
 i^. « And other people love these birds, Anna. If next Sun 
 day a Vespers you look at the veiH of silk which is thmwn 
 
 un^n iMn «nv ^^^^T^^^y"" ^i» ^^ « P«lican embroidered' 
 upon ,t m silver The w.ngs are spread, and the sharp beak is 
 pressing on the breast, on which you will see drops of bM 
 with which she is feeding her callow a bnFod 
 IS, "It is this groat 1, ve of the joelican for her young which 
 
 which I^ feeds Christians with His own body and His own 
 blood. When you are old enough to make your first Com- 
 munion, you will think the pelican even more beau t^ulthTn 
 you do now and then Anna must not forget to pray I her 
 grandpa." As he said this, grandpa's white hair dro^ Ldlv 
 over the sunshiny head of his dear little pet and grandad JX' 
 
 II. 
 
 84, WHY THE ROBIJ^'S BREAST IS RED. 
 
 THE Saviour, bowed beneath the Orfiss, 
 Ascended Calvary's hill, 
 While from the cr«el, thoniy wreath 
 
 Flowed many a crimson rill. 
 The brawny » soldiers thrus^, Him on 
 
 With unrelenting hand, 
 Till, staggering slowly 'mid the crowd. 
 He fell upon the sand. 
 
 ^. A little brrd that warbled near, 
 That ever blessed day, 
 Flitted around, and strove to wrench « 
 One single thorn away. 
 
 ' Veil (vSl), a garment lon^j in 
 IToportion to its width. 
 
 ^ Bm broid'ered, adorned with 
 fine needle-work. 
 
 8 nxi/ 1 - .. .... 
 
 vKi suw, aui jot leatiiefed. 
 
 * Sfm'hol, a type ; a representa- 
 tion. 
 
 ' ^awn'5^, having large, Btrone 
 muscles. 
 
 " Wrtnoh, to pull with a twist. 
 
 'i 
 
gllB 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 8. 
 
 The cr\jel epear impalod ' bis breaet, 
 
 And thus, 'tis sweetly said, 
 The robin baa his silver vest 
 
 Incarnadined ' with red. 
 
 Jesus ! Jesus ! Odd made man I 
 
 My dolors and my sighs, 
 Sore need the lesson taught by this 
 
 Wing'd wanderer of the skiea 
 I, in the palace of delight, 
 
 Or caverns of despair, 
 Ubve plucked no thorns from Thy dear brow. 
 
 But planted Ihuumnds there. 
 
 So. 
 
 III. 
 
 ^ CHICKEJVS. 
 
 A CHICKEN is beautiful, and round, and full of cunning 
 ways; but he has no resources' for an emergency.* He 
 will lose his reckoning and be quite out at sea, though only ten 
 steps from houie. He never knows enough to tiim a corner. 
 All his intelligence is like light, moving only in straight lines. 
 
 2. He is impetuous'' and timid, and has not the smalU>8t 
 presence of mind or sagacity to discern « Ijetween friend and foe. 
 He has no confidence in any earthly power that does not reside 
 in an old hen. Her cluck will he fdUow to the last ditch, and 
 to n6thing else will he give heed. 
 
 S. If you take iS^way selfishness from a chicken's mdral 
 make-up, and foolishne> from his mental, you have a very 
 charming little creature left. For, apart from their exces8i\3 
 greed, chickens soen :o he aflfectionate. They have sweet social 
 ways. They huddle tc^i'fbor witii f lu' caressing chatter, and 
 ohirp s6ft lullabie.f 
 
 4. Their toilet performances are full of interest They trim 
 
 ' Im paled', pierced ; transfixed. 
 
 * In car'na dined, dyed red. 
 
 ^ Re sSurc'es, supplies ; means. 
 
 * E mer'gen c^, a sudden or un- 
 foreseen condition of things ; any 
 
 event which calls for prom, action 
 or remedy. 
 
 ' Im pSt'u ous, fierce ; hasty. 
 
 " Discern (diz zern'), to see or un- 
 derstand the difference. 
 
CHICKENS. ^^^ 
 
 earh ofher'g bills with great thdroughndsg and dexterity » much 
 \^mm indee'l than thoy dress their own head» ; for their bun- 
 gang, awkward little claws make sad work of it. 
 
 6, It is OS much as they can do to stand on two feec, and 
 thoy naturally make -^overal revolutfons' when they attempt to 
 stand on one. Nothing can be more ludicrous' than theirearlv 
 efforts to walk. They do not really walk. They sight their 
 object waver, balance, decide, and then tumble forwL. .top- 
 ping all in a heap us fltfon as the original impetus* in Idst-l 
 
 wis to go!"" ""'^ "''""^ "^ "'' ^^""^ '" ^^"^^ '•'^'y ^««"3^ 
 
 rol./*i '' "^^ffft ^'^ '""^"^ "'^"^ '^ drow8int^8s films their 
 round, bright, bhu^k eyes, and the dear old mother cro-ons' them 
 under her ample wings, and they nestle in perfect harmony 
 How they manage to bestow themselves with such limited 
 accommodat^ns, or how they manage to breathe in a rdom^ 
 close, , ,s difficult to imagine. But breathe and besta^hem! 
 selves hey do. The deep mother-heart and the broad mothe^. 
 wings take them all in. "lorner- 
 
 ^' '^'l^f, P«,^«*r«*o' her feathers, and op.n for themselves 
 unseen little doors into the mysterious brooding U^rJZ 
 darknc^ss. But it is 16ng before they can arrangt themseTv f 
 satis a^tonly. They chirp, and stir, and snuggle, trZg to 
 find the warmf^st and sfiftt^st lurok.s ^ ^ ^ 
 
 bodv iT^r '"''"'^ 'r^^ .'' *^'"'* ^"*' ""^ "^^ ^ ^hSle tiny 
 l)ody, but It soon re-enters m another quarter, and at length the 
 
 legs, as If the hen wore a banyan-trco, and presently even they 
 disappear ; she settles down comfortably, and all arc wrapued 
 in a slumberous silence. ^^ 
 
 ^. And as I sit by the hour, watching their winning ways 
 i^^li^eealUhe sf^ps of this sleepy subsidence,<> I can but femem: 
 
 'DexWr'lt^, readiness, skill, 
 and ease in using the limbs ; quick- 
 ness and skill. 
 
 * R«v'o lii'Uon, the act of tum- 
 JUff on a center; the motion of a. 
 w)dy round a fixed point. 
 
 » Lu'di croiiB, droll ; laughable. 
 
 * Im'Oe tUM. ic\Toa t\e •>.»«: 
 
 « Oroon, soothe by singing softly. 
 
 « Har'mo ny, peace and friend- 
 ship; agreement. 
 
 ' P«n'e trate, to enter Into. 
 
 8 Nook (ngk), a corner ; a retired 
 place. 
 
 • Sub sid'ence, the act of falling 
 
 into u otuie oi' quiet. 
 
 <F 
 
 fc>Q-' 
 
1 
 
 2U 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ber that outburst of love and s6rrow from the lips of Him who, 
 tliough Ho came to Carth from a dwelling-placo of ineflfable ' 
 glory, called nothing unclean because it wa§ common. 
 
 10. He found no homely 2 detail too homely or too trivial* 
 to illustrate our Almighty Father's love, but from the birds of 
 the dir, the fish of the sea, the lilies of the field, the stones in 
 the street, the foxes in their holes, the patch on a coat, the oxen 
 in the furrow, the sheep in the pit, the camel under his bArdm, 
 drew lessons of divine pity and patience, of heavenly duty and 
 
 delight. 
 
 11. Standing in the presence of the great congregation, seeing, 
 as never nian saw, the h^pdcrisy^ and the iniquity g&thered 
 before Him,— seeing too alas! the calamities « and the woe that 
 awaited this doomed people, a divine pity overbears His righte- 
 ous indignation ' and cries out in sorrowful appeal, " Jeru- 
 salem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and ston^st 
 them that are sent unto thee, how 6ften would I have gathered 
 thy children together, even as a hen githeroth her chickens 
 under her wings, and thou wouldst not I" 
 
 IV. 
 c?6. TWO NEIGHBORS AMD THE HEJVS. 
 
 IN a conversation I had with a man in Nova Scotia, he 
 told me this anecdote. " I once owned a large flock of 
 hens. I generally kept them shut up; but one spring I 
 concluded to let them run in my yard, after I had clipped their 
 wings' so that they could not fly. 
 
 2. "One day, when I came home to dinner, I learned 
 that one of my neighbors had been there, full of wrath,^ to 
 let me know that ray hens had been in his garden, and that 
 
 false appearance of goodness or 
 relig'on. 
 
 « Oa l^m'i ty, a great misfortune 
 or cause of misery. 
 
 ^ In' dig na'tion, the feeling caused 
 by that which is unwortliy or dis- 
 graceful ; anger. 
 
 8 Wrath (rafli), very fierce anger ; 
 
 » In Sffa ble, unspeakable. 
 
 2 Home'ly, belonging to home ; 
 familiar ; plain. 
 
 ' De'tail, narrative or account. 
 
 < Triv'i al, of little importance or 
 worth ; trifling ; common. 
 
 ' H^ p6c'ri s^, the act of pre- 
 
 *^~,\i^r, 4r> Iva nfliAr nnri hAttftr than 
 
 one 
 
 is ; the taking upon one's self a fury ; rage. 
 
TWO NEIGHBORS AND THE HENS. Slr> 
 
 v^. "After dinner, I went to mv neiffhhor'« Wo 
 
 kill all of ™ur r„a if 7;, ' « ff, *'""'*^ ■""• ^ ""' 
 iu lottiL out mv L.., T I " T"*" " S"''" ">'«'»'«' 
 
 i3 not i^s t:,f[::\t;t;.^:^t,r«'''»'' •*^'<>-.. 
 
 P^n'satpT vnn fi, ' ^ *^^^^ "^0^0 need to com- 
 
 £-^o^tha„ you me, aud to aak your forgivonC 
 
 'RedrSss', satisfe^on or pay- 
 «>ent for wrong tliat has been done 
 Ac cfiat'ed, came to the side 
 «f ; addressed ; spoke to. 
 
 ^ In flnmoH' ~.-l . I, • 
 
 . ;"--l, liarumg. 
 
 Ruined (ry'ind). 
 
 / Oon found'ed, entirely confua- 
 e<I ; at a loss what to say or do 
 
 " Nothing (nflfli'ing). 
 
 ' cam p«n'sate, to make en„ai 
 return to ; to repay by giving what 
 >s of an equal value. 
 
216 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 M I 
 
 SECTION XXI. 
 I. 
 
 d7. A CITY STREET. 
 
 I LOVE the wdbds, the fields, the streams. 
 The wild flowers fresh and sweet, 
 And y6t I love no less than these 
 
 The crowd6d city street ; 
 For haunts of men, where'er they be 
 Awake my deepest sympathy. 
 
 £ I see the rich man, proudly fed 
 And richly clothed, p&ss by; 
 I see the shivering houseless wretch 
 
 With hunger in his eye ; 
 For life's severest contrasts meet 
 For ever in the city street I 
 
 S. Hence is it that a city street. 
 
 Can deepest thoughts impart, 
 For all its people, high and low. 
 
 Are kindr5d to my heart; 
 And with a yearning love I shdre 
 In all their joy, their pain, their cdre! 
 
 II. 
 88. THE CITY. 
 
 NOT in the solitude alone 
 May man commune with Heaven, oi see 
 Only in savage wood 
 And sunny vale, the present Deity ; 
 
 Or only hear His voice 
 Wh^re the winds whisper and the waves rejoice. 
 
 2. Even here do I behold 
 Thy steps. Almighty 1— here, amidst the crowd, 
 Thrniicrh the srreat citv rolled. 
 
URSULA. 
 
 Witii everlasting mArmtlr deep and loud- 
 
 Choking the ways that wind 
 Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. 
 
 S. Thy goldm sunshine comes 
 From the round heaven, and on their dwellings lies, 
 
 And lights their inner hemes ; 
 Jor them thou f Iim with air the unfunded skies, 
 
 And giv^st them the stores 
 Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. 
 
 Jf' Thy Spirit is around 
 Quickening the restless mass that sweeps al6ng. 
 And this eternal sound— ' 
 
 Voices and footfalls of the numberless thrdng- 
 
 -I-ike the rebounding sea, 
 Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of Thee. 
 
 ^. And when the hours of rest 
 Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine. 
 
 Hushing its billowy breast— 
 The quiet of that moment too is Thine- 
 It breathes of Him who keeps' 
 The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. 
 
 ^17 
 
 SECTION XXII. 
 I. 
 
 89. URSULA. 
 
 r JRSULA was thirteen years old, the tallest oirl in fhp 
 
 yj claims, and a great ffivortte wifh i,a. ^ ^^ 
 
 be s«re, 6very body knew t^at iTi, n '""^^^"^ '^^ 
 
 — V^~~~r .^ J^ejiay m the latter part of Fgbru- 
 
 -m pa« .01., u^uae with ^^^on.^^^^^^,^,^,^^,^^^- ~ 
 
 ti 
 
21S 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 ary, Ursula came home to dinner witii the intelligence' that 
 Sister GCn'evieve' had promised to give all the girls of her class 
 Practices for Lent at the close of the afternoorj, and each was 
 to consider whatever fell to her lot as that most necessary for 
 her special need. 
 
 r>. " Some miracle is going to be worked, eh ? " said her 
 Cousin John, who was very fond of teasing Ursula. " What 
 would you think a miracle now in my case. Cousin John ?" said 
 Ursula, liiughing. "I shall not (ell you, Ursa Minor; you 
 would eat me up, if I did." Ursula, deep in the delights of 
 bread-pudding with wine-sauce, l(5st the point of this remark, 
 and only said, looking up, 'M suppose I'll get whatever suits 
 me best." 
 
 4. " I hope so, I am sure," said her cousin ; " Lent is a hungry 
 season, though. It seems to mo that Sister Genevieve might 
 have taken that into consideration, and deferred ^ the giving out 
 of Practices till the holidays." — " How absurd you are. Cousin 
 John," said Ursnfe, her mouth full of pudding. " It is because 
 of Lent that we are going to have the Practices. Children 
 don't fast from fo()d, but they ^an fast from sin," with which 
 oracular ^ phrase Ursula left the table. 
 
 6. "Ursula," said her mother that evening, "did you receive 
 your Practice?"— "Yes, ma'am," said Ursula briefly.* "Wliat 
 is it, Ursula ? " iiskcd her father kindly, noticing her hesitation. 
 " I don't know it by heart, papa," she said, bending over her 
 plate, "but it is in my pocket." — "Let us have it, then," and 
 he held out his hand. Ursula saw that there was no help for 
 it, so she placed in her father's hand the little folded pa|)er, 
 and putting on his glasses, he read aloud : 
 
 Practice for Lent. 
 
 G, " Moderation ^ in eating and drinking." Turning to tho 
 other side of the slip, he continued: "The old custom^ will 
 stand in thy way, but by a better custom it shall be overcome." 
 A long, low whistle from Cousin John, and Ursula's face grew 
 
 ' Id tsrii feSnce, news. 
 ^ De ferred', put off ; postponed. 
 3 O rSc'u lar, grave and wine. 
 * Briefly, in few words. 
 
 ^ M5d e ra'tion, neither too mucli 
 nor too little. 
 " Oiis'tom, a manner or practice 
 
 
URSULA, 
 
 219 
 
 scarlet. " Miracles,> sure enough," said he ''TTr«,-.f tt • i 
 
 this will be a terrible Lent for you mJ^'r. v • 5'''^ ^ 
 
 7 « Rnoi, T^u »> . , , . ^ Mod-e-ra-tion m eat-inff.*» 
 
 in and out of season, and ;!,;7^^^ ^you^o-oonetantlyeafng, 
 people sorVfh'a I le'I-Tfat^'l' "'Trf ^^ """^ 
 
 TJrt]7''TMfp^ 'T ^^''^' ^"* ^'^ ^'« *^« harshness of love 
 for having done so" ^ ^*^* ^e sorry 
 
 -.hae was Why I ha^r,:: ^jnir. LXyTo': 
 
 weeks may worlionde^'' "''"'-"' -formation, Ursio ; si. 
 
 • Mir'a cles, occfirrences whicli inUUv nf «^ i ! ~ 
 
 can not be explained by any „at:: ''ZlZlZ T'T 
 
 causes, 4i;_*»^**^y»stingily; meanly. 
 
 ^.•■. ..n, „.. wno i« .Hbitually especially agreeable totle pairte!"' 
 
220 
 
 DOMINION' FOURTH READER. 
 
 IS. " Mamma'," said Ur'sula with determination, " I hope j', 
 will. If I made a resolution to-night not to eat between meals 
 during Lent, do ygu think I could keep it ?"— " What do you 
 think, Ursula?"— "I believe I could be faithful till Easter, 
 mamma. I can try at all events, and I will." 
 
 H. Of the temptations overcome, the allurements re§i8ted, 
 the sweet delights foregone ^ by Ursula in that 16ng season of 
 sfclf-denial, it is not necessary to speak. It is enough to say 
 that she proved herself a heroine, and never once broke the 
 law she made for herself, thrQugh the whole Lent. 
 
 II. 
 90. LITTLE JESSIE, 
 
 " T T AND me some w^ter, brother, won't you ?" — "In a 
 
 jlX minute, Jessie." And Jessie's fevered cheek wa§ 
 pressed again to the pillow ; and little Harry's hands went on 
 as busily as ever wit^ the trap he was making. At length he 
 entirely forgot the request.' 
 / 2. '' Please get it now, brother," he at last heard ; and scatter- 
 ^ing knives, triggers and strings in his haste, he was soon hold- 
 ing a cup to her hot lips. But she turned her head languidly ^ 
 away. " Not this, please, but some fresh and cold from the well," 
 she said. " Oh, don't be so particular, Jessie ; this is fresh 
 enough ; and I'm so busy I ciin't go now ; won't this do ? " 
 
 S. She no longer refused,* but quickly took the cup which 
 was dffered. It was the last time she ever called upon hor 
 brother for an act of kindness ; 6 re another day had p&ssed she 
 stood beside the river of life, and drank its cool waters never to 
 thirst again. 
 
 J^. Of all who wept over the little cdffin, as it lay on the bier 
 before the altar, th^re were none who shed more bitter tears 
 than the little boy who could not forget that lie had refused the 
 last request of his sister. 
 
 5. Children, are you kind to one another, or are you cr6ss, 
 selfish, and fretful ? Eemember that the time will come when 
 
 ' Pore gSne', renounced ; fore- 
 borne to be enjoyed. 
 'I Re quSst', sometbing &sked. 
 
 ^ LSn'guid ly, in a manner that 
 sbowfl great weakness. 
 * Re fused', objected ; declined. 
 
LEGEND OF THE INFANT 7ESUS. S, i 
 
 others will :.::.e;.':7:;;h'':„::/::e: re" „t7't'? '-^ 
 
 every bitter word that passed yourlns Lfl . '"'?,',"''"'"^ 
 'a^ to reeaU the™, toolte ^IZl^^^^T'"" """ "^ *«• 
 
 not consid rTr daLZ'l 'inV^/.^^^^^ ^" ""*' •"= *'' 
 
 «vhen she had Ko«e 'oll' P- f " ''"' ■"" "'""'■'>'' "m 
 A 1 u , . 6"«e. u mother!" he would aav "if t v,„j 
 
 only brought that water for her I oonld ^T\ \ } ^"^ 
 l)ut now 8he is wh4rp T no ^^^^ ^^^ ^^«8 l>etter : 
 
 .9 « Mv 1 « r J. ""^"^ "^^^^' ^^'^^'- ^ait on her airain " 
 *^- My son," said his mother *^a^A i„ ti- • 7 .f^, 
 
 permitted this severe Won tL ' '"^""'^ ^^^^ ^^ 
 
 thoughtful of o her anTnot ,1/'" """^ ^"'"^ '" ^^ ^^^^ 
 
 yourownpursuitrito We theXl^r' ''^^^^' "^ 
 TT-ilf nf ft.o 1, n loigec tne claims of those around von 
 
 'Zlti^;z::i:^^^^ -- fr- thoughtC: 
 
 hold them guSs forHe/ ^'''' T*"^^' ^"^ ^^^ "^^^ 
 ourselves." ^ ' ^' '''^"*"''^ "^ *^ ^^^^ ^^^ neighbor an 
 
 Be kind to each other! 
 
 The night's coming on. 
 When sister or brother, 
 
 Perchance may be gdne. 
 
 To father and mother 
 
 Let love guide thy speech: 
 Kefuse not another 
 The joy in thy reach. 
 
 III. 
 91. LEGEm) OF THE mFAJ\rT JESUS, 
 
 T N a small chftpel rich with carving quaint, 
 
 J ^■■'■r-^ia cjHu uuviuee Doid, 
 
222 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 n I 
 
 Wh6rc glowed the face of many a pictured saint, 
 From windows high in g6rgeous drapery's fold. 
 
 And one large mellowed painting o'er tlio shrine 
 Showed in the arms of Mary — Mother mild — 
 
 Down looking, with a tenderness divine 
 In His clear, shining eyes, the Iloly Child. 
 
 [2. Two little brothers, orphans young and fAir, 
 
 Who came in sacred lessons to be taught, 
 Waited, as every day they waited there. 
 
 Till Father Bernard came, his pupils sought. 
 And fed his Master's lambs. Most innocent 
 
 Of evil or of any worldly lure, 
 Those children were ; from e'en the slightest taint 
 
 Had Jesus' blood their guileless souls kept pure I 
 
 r 
 
 S. A pious man that good Dominican, 
 
 Whose life with gentle charities was crowned ; 
 His duties in the church as s3.cristan. 
 
 For hours in daily rQutinc' kept him bound, 
 While that young pair awaited his release. 
 
 Seated upon the altar-steps, or spread 
 Thereon their morning meal, and ate in peace 
 
 And simple thankfulness thfiir fruit and bread. 
 
 4. And 6ften did their lifted glances meet 
 
 The Infant Jesus' eyes ; and oft He smiled — 
 So thought the children ; sympathy so sweet 
 
 Brought blessing to them from the Blessed Child — 
 Until one day, wiien Father Bernard came. 
 
 The little ones ran forth ; with clasping hold 
 Each seized his hand, and each with wild acclaim. 
 
 In eager words the talc of wonder told : 
 
 5. "0 father, father !" both the children cried, 
 
 " The dear Chil*' Jesus ! He has heard our prdyer! 
 We prayed Him to come down and sit beside 
 
 Us as we ate, and of our feast take shdre ; 
 And He came down and t isted of our bread. 
 
 And sat and smiled upor us^ father dear I '* 
 
LEGEND OF THE /NEANT y^6C/S. 
 
 223 
 
 Pallid 1 with strange omfize, Bernardo said, 
 " GraQe, beyond ma. vcl ! Ilafh the Lord been here ? 
 
 6, The heaven of heavens Hi§ dwelling-doth He deign " 
 
 To v]§it little dhildren ? Favored ye 
 BeySnd all those on earthly tlirones who reign, 
 
 In having seen this strangest mystery 18 
 O lamb? of Hi§ dear flock! to-mSrrow, pray 
 
 Je§us to €ome again to gra^e* ygur board' 
 And sup with you ; and if He eome, then say, 
 
 * Bid us to Thine own table, blessed Lord I 
 
 'Pai'lid, very pale. 
 ' Deign (dan), to -condescend. 
 3 "Mfn'tex y, somefliing that -can 
 not be explained, 
 
 ■* Grace, to &d6m ; to make de- 
 lightful. 
 
 ° Board, here uged to aignify 
 a repast. 
 
 I' '-, 
 
224 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH KEADRR. 
 
 7. 
 
 I! 
 
 'Id 
 
 8, 
 
 9. 
 
 10. 
 
 *• « Our m&ster, too 1 ' do not forgot to plcud 
 
 For me, dear children ! In humility 
 I will entreat Him your meek i)rAyer to hend, 
 
 That 80 His mCrcy muy extend to mu I " 
 Then, a hand laying on eiich lovely hejid, 
 
 Devoutly the old man the children blessed. 
 " Come Carly on the morrow morn," he siiid, 
 
 •* To meet— if such His will, your heavenly guest!"' 
 
 To meet their father by the next noon ran 
 
 The yftufljful pdir, their eyes with rapture^ bright. 
 '♦ He came!" their happy, lisping tongues began; 
 
 " Ho says wo all shall sup with Him to-night! 
 Thou, too, dear father ; for we could not come 
 
 Alone, without our faithful friend— we said. 
 Oh ! be thou siire our i)leading8 were not dumb, 
 
 Till Jesus smiled consent, and l»owed His head." 
 
 Kneeling in thankful joy, liernardo fell, 
 
 And through the hours he lay entranced » in prdyer ; 
 Until the solemn sound of vesper bell 
 
 Aroused him, breaking on tho silent Air. 
 Then rose he, calm, and when the i)siilms were o'er, 
 
 And in the aisle the chant ^ had died away, 
 With soul still bowed his Master to adore, 
 
 Alone he watched the fast departing day. 
 
 Two silvery voices, calling through tho gloom 
 
 With sCraph sweetness, reached his Walew'm^ ear; 
 Ad swiftly passing 'neath the Idfty dome, 
 
 Soon, side by side, he and his children dear 
 Entered the ancient chapel, consecrate' 
 
 By grace mysterious. Kneeling at the shrine," 
 Before which, robed in sil9erdotal' state. 
 
 That morn ing he had blessed the bread and wine. 
 
 ' OuSst, one who visits another. 
 
 « RSp'tura, extreme delight. 
 
 ^ En tranced', so absorbed in 
 tuougbt as to be almost or quite 
 unconscious. 
 
 * Ohant, a slow, measured, grave 
 
 method of singing. 
 ' C6n'se crate, hero used in tli- 
 
 sense of consecrated ; hallowed. 
 * Shrine,aplaceof special devotiMii 
 ' SSc'er dS'tal, belonging to the 
 
 priesthood. 
 
9U 
 
 II 
 
 MACAHWS THE MONK, 
 
 Ht-rnunU) prayed. And then tho choeoii throo ' 
 
 Itccoivod tho sttcrod Host, tho priest had blosBod, 
 V laticmn for those so soon to bo 
 
 Homo U) tho country of otCmal rest ; 
 Buhlon that night to sup with Christ ! in faith 
 
 Waiting for Hirn, their : wd beloved, to ooino 
 And ieatl thorn upward from this land of death, 
 
 To live forever in His leather's JiOme 1 
 
 i2. In that Hamo chapel, kneeling in t»'«ir place 
 
 All were found deac their hands still clasped in prayer; 
 
 1 heir eyes nphtted to tho Saviour's face, 
 Tho hallowed peace of heaven abiding there I 
 
 While thousands came that wondrous scene to view 
 
 ^ And hear tho story of the chosen three ; 
 
 1 hence gathering the lesson deep and true— 
 It is tho crowu of life with Christ to be. 
 
 rv. 
 02, MACARIUS THE MOJm. 
 
 T N days of old, while yet the Church was younff 
 1 And men believed that praise of Gdd Vua sung, 
 In curbing self as well as singing psalms. 
 There lived a monk, Maca'rius by name, 
 A holy man, to whom the faithful came 
 WitJi hungry hearts to hear the wondrous Word. 
 Ill sight of gushing springs and sheltering piilms. 
 He lived upon the desert : from the marsh 
 He drank the brackish wfttcr, and his fo-od 
 Was dates and ro-ots—and ail his rglo wsw harsh 
 For pampered flesh in those days warred with good. 
 «. From those who came in scores, a few there were 
 Who feared the devil more than fast and prdyer. 
 
 And these remained and took the hermit's vow. 
 
 A dozen saints there grew to bo ; and now 
 
 JTacarius, happy, lived in larger cAre. 
 
 He taught his brethren all the lore he knew. 
 
 ■ f 
 
 And 
 
 as wiey igaiiied, hia pious rigors grew. 
 
 I 
 
 'k 
 
 ^Xit^' 
 
 
 .1/ 
 
 'Ja4M 
 
 mL 
 
 C I 
 
22(} 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 IIiH whole intent w^^ on the spirit's goal : 
 llo Uiught thom silencK) — words di«tilrb the sdul ; 
 Uo warned of joys, and bfldc tlicm pray for sdrrow, 
 And bo prepdred to-day for death to-iudrrOw. 
 
 5. To know thai human life alone was given, 
 To teat the souls of those who merit heaven, 
 He bilde the twelve in all things be as brothers. 
 And die to self, to live and work for others. 
 "For so," he said, "we save our love and lal)or8, 
 And each one ^vcs his own and ta!;es his neighl)orV* 
 Thus Idng ho taught, and while they silent hCard, 
 Ho prayed for fruitful soil to hold the word. 
 
 One day, beside thy marsh they labored Idng — 
 For worldly work makes sweeter sacred s6ng — 
 And when the cruel sun made hot the sand, 
 And Afric's gnats the sweltering face and hand 
 Tormenting stung, a passing traveler stood 
 And watched the workers by tho reeking flood. 
 
 J^ Macarius, nigh, witli heat and toil wus faint ; 
 The traveler saw, and to the suffering saint 
 A bunch of luscious grapes in pity threw. 
 Most sweet and fresh and fdir thoy wore to view, 
 A generous cluster, bArsting-rich with wine. 
 Macarius -Jngcl to taste. " The fryit is mine," 
 He said, and sighed ; " but I, who daily teach. 
 Feel now the bond to practice as I preach." 
 He gave the cluster to tho nearest one, 
 And with his heavy toil went patient on. 
 
 6. And he who took, unknown to any other, 
 The sweet refreshment handed to a brother. 
 And so, from each to each, till round was made 
 The circuit wholly ; when the grapes at last. 
 Untouched and tempting, to Macarius passed. 
 
 " Now Gdd be thanked ! " he cried, and ceased to toil 
 " The seed was good, but better was the soil. 
 My brothers, join with me to bless the day." 
 But, ere they knelt, he threw the grapes away. 
 
 I 
 
DOMINION FOURTH READER. 227 
 
 SECTION XXIII. 
 I. 
 
 03. HALF BETTEli TllAM ALL. 
 
 q^UK HUN w^.^ ,,«„ri.>g it.s mM-driy my.j „]„,„ tho Arabia,, 
 X (leyort, v^heii .i cftr'avu,. halted for rofrWhrnont and 
 iq>o.?c. riio ton Is woro arranged for sliadc, tho camels were 
 "niud.n, andeadh (irod MusHuln.an,' re.linin,. u,>«n the^ani 
 -Moyod ln.5 mv<>rte luxury of the pii^, or lij„.d lo <.ne « 
 (h(>.^e b,.g dull tale?, with ^^idh the inhabittints of the East 
 are wont ^ to amu^e eacfh other in their journeyi,»g«. 
 J.. Iwo httlo boy.^, the only cHuldren in the whole <-on,pany 
 Al6ne were restless, aetive, and impatient of restraint. As they 
 were not allowed to smoke, and had no taste for tiie tediouss 
 stone? that amupl tiieir elder?, they wandered among tiie 
 jamel? and ehmbed upon their baeks togc5ther, and, at last, 
 or want of other entertainment, quarreled, and then separat^ 
 to find cacOi hi? own amusement apart. 
 
 •i ?,w^,^' younger, *rc?olving heartily never to play again 
 w.t^ Ah (a'le), seampered 6fT toward a eluster of low rfcH 
 that, at a ^ort distan9e, emerged from tJie plain of sand and 
 formed tlie only objeet ttat broke tiie uniformity of' t 
 prospeet. Havir^g readhed tiie rocks, he had nothing t,o do but 
 return, and endure again tiie dullness of tiie earavau^ and the 
 provoking temper of All. Hi? spirit sunk at tiic thought of 
 he odious » necessity. When turning a high corner of the rocks 
 he came suddenly on a prize that made him cry out for joy ' 
 
 I ^^^"^./^«^ ^" ^. fi«««^o of the rock, a stunted date.iree 
 had pu^ed Its puny limb? into the sun^ine, and bore its 
 dwarfi^ head a handful of over-ripened fruit. A small clear 
 ■sprmg of water trickled thr.nigh tiie crevi9e, supplying moisture 
 to tiie tree, glis^.n ^d in the sand?, and disappeared. 
 
 one who believes Mohammed to grimg or m^^..,,, Celii t 
 Irnve been a prophet. pettier for se^arity fhrougi? tit 
 
 ^ ?^" i^sltrr™*^' T- f'^^Sert.or through Juntri^ fnfesSd 
 ie ai ous, dull ; tirtsome from by robbers 
 
 length or slowness. 5 o^i n,^„ i.„*.f.., . ^:„_:._. , , 
 
228 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 5. A fcHmtain of fresh water! What a transporting ^ dis- 
 covery! For weeks poor 8clim had tasted no drink except 
 rdre and stinted draughts '^ from the heated contents of the 
 water-skins, that had been brought on the camels' backs from 
 Mohadin. 
 
 6\ He conld scarcely believe his eyes. He looked anxiously 
 toward tlie caravan, fearing that he miglit have been followed, 
 and that his rich prize might be taken from him, or at least 
 shdred, by that odioijs brother. But no one came to interrupt, 
 or to partake of his happiness;— the cool water and the lus- 
 cious ^ fruit were all his own. 
 
 7. For a moment, the fancy of Selim raveled'* in the antici- 
 pation 5 of the delicious draught, and of the rich repast before 
 him, and, in his happiness, he found that he had forgiven Ali. 
 His pleasure was so exquisite,^ that he wanted to shout it to 
 the rocks; and even the fiercely-glaring sun, he thought, might 
 sympathize in his delight. 
 
 8. But the first draught was scarcely swallowed, before Selim 
 began to find that something was wanting to complete his 
 enjoyment. What could it be, whose absence was causing the 
 refreshing water to palP upon his appetite. 
 
 9. He wondered that he was not perfectly happy in the sole 
 possession of such treasures. He pondered,^ and considered in 
 vain. But his untutored heart whispered to him the triith. 
 He paused. He sighed; then ran, like an antelope,^ over the 
 hills to the tent where his brother, now so dear to him, had 
 laid himself down to sleep. 
 
 10. Back the two brothers hastened to the rocks. Selim 
 enjoyed the surprise, the delight of Ali, at the sight of the 
 fountain and the tree. He found his own pleasure doubled in 
 witnessing that of his brother. The water seemed cooler, the 
 
 1 TrSns port'ing, carried beyond 
 one's self for joy. 
 
 " Draught (dr&ft), that which is 
 drawn in at once in drinking. 
 
 » Luscious (liiA'us), sweet ; de- 
 lightful. 
 
 * RSv'eled, moved playfully. 
 
 "* Antic'ipa'tion, expected pleas- 
 
 a taking beforehand. 
 
 * Exquisite (Sks'kwi zit), car& 
 fully selected or sought out ; hence, 
 very nice ; very great ; giving rare 
 satisfaction. 
 
 '' Pall, lose strength or taste. 
 
 * PSn'dered, thought. 
 An'te lope, a kind of goat or 
 
 
CHERRIES OF HAMBURG. 229 
 
 ?hl^l? ^f^"" ^'''''' r^^'"^ ^" J^"^^^ ^i« P^i^es of both, 
 i he glare a of the sun was less regarded 
 
 ^i. They talked, and laughed ; they ate, and drank. Sellm's 
 
 :.rra rieit cisa "•*" 
 
 IV. 
 94. CHERRIES OF HAMBURG, 
 
 T N the early part of the sixteenth century cherries wCre verv 
 
 the rtot of chiSri-y.trocs, and by constant watclifnlnoss he l,«) 
 kept 4way the disea«, from his fruit, so that he 11^0 l.sJ!^ 
 
 jS^sr- -^ '^"- ■•" ^-' •'^— . s;t 
 
 sold ttlr„''f''tr"l'"',';''f'' ™' ■""" ^o t" h™ f»>- them, and ho 
 sold ti^em at the highest prices, so that Svery seasm he reaned 
 
 a great harvest of gold from his cherries. Par anHear wXs 
 
 eherry-trees were known, and he grew richer and more famoL 
 
 i. One season, when his cherry-trees were in blossom and 
 
 north of Germany, ,n which Hamburg was invaded The dtv 
 
 ridStt;"' " '"'""""''■^ ''^ '"^ enemy, thatnf'S 
 
 B. Slowly they consumed all the provisions that were stored 
 
 and &mme»was staring them in the face; nor di^Xv d^^ 
 
 .eld to the enemy, for they Knew little merW would to Jhown 
 
 he conquered, and while any hope remained, the people 
 
 I'eld out, makmg vain sallies' into the enemy's camnTd 
 
 R^wmg^veakcrdaily^te and less fdod remaiii^rihem 
 
 ' Pla'lm» 4-^-4. 11. 7~ : 
 
 ' Fla'vor, that quality of any 
 thingr which affects the smell or 
 taste; that which gives to any 
 ^•^5"^ a very pleasant odor or taste. 
 
 ^ Glare (gulru), bright light. 
 
 « FSm'ine, the want of sufficient 
 food. 
 
 * Sai'ly, a darting or springing 
 forth ; a marchint? of trooDs frnij; u 
 place to attack besiegers. * 
 
 I 
 
 IV* 
 
eso 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 6. Meanwhile, the enemy had grown mOro fierce without, 
 The heat wa§ intense, and had dried up the brooks and springs 
 in all the coui^try about, so that the besiegers were becoming 
 wild with thirst ; it made them fiercer, and the commanding 
 gSndral would listen to no terms, but swore to destroy the city, 
 and to pijt all the inhabitants, soldiers and old men, women and 
 children, to the sword. 
 
 7. But would it not be better thus to be killed outright than 
 to suffer the slow death of famine ? Wolf thought of these 
 things as he returned one day to his garden in the midst of the 
 city, after a week of fighting with the enemy. In his absence 
 the cherries had ripen> d fast in the hot sun, and were now 
 supgrb,* fairly bursting with the red juice, and making one's 
 mouth to water at the sight. 
 
 8. A sudden thought came into his head as he looked at his 
 cherries, and a hope sprang up that he might yet save his fCl- 
 low-townsmen. TV. .re v/as not a moment to lose, for twenty- 
 four hours more of ^suffering would make the people delirious.^ 
 He brought together all the children of the town, to the num- 
 ber of three hundred, and had them dressed wholly in white. 
 In those days, and in that country, the funeral processions were 
 thus dressed. 
 
 9. He brought them into his orchard and loaded each with 
 a brfi,nch, heavy with rich, juicy cherries, and marshaling them, 
 sent them out of the city, a feeble procession, to the camp of 
 the enemy. The dying men and women filled the streets as the 
 white-robed children passed through the gates and out into the 
 country. 
 
 10. The besieging general saw the procession drawmg near, 
 concealed by the boughs they were carrying, and suspected 
 some stratagem.^ Then he was told that they were the children 
 of Hamburg, who had heard that he and his army were suffer- 
 ing of thirst, and were bringing luscious cherr' s to quench it. 
 Thereat he was very angry, for he was of a cruel and violent 
 nature, and said that they had come to mdck him, and he would 
 
 * Su perb', grand ; showy ; rich. 
 
 * De Ur'Jl 01&S, deranged ; wan- 
 dering in mind. 
 
 ^ StrSt'a j;JSm, an artifice or trick 
 by which some adv&ntage is ex- 
 pected to be gaiaed. 
 
THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. ^si 
 
 surely have them put to death befOra his eyes, even as he hsid 
 sworn he would do to all the people of the city 
 
 lU But when the procession ^ came before him, and he saw 
 the poor children, so thm,so pale, so worn out by hunger, thi 
 ZA\n """i T. *""'^^^' -^Pringoffatherly We, that 
 
 wl t^v ."^ t""^^^ ^P .^" '""^' ^^'^^ ^^'^h' h^ ^«^ filled 
 witf^ pity, and tears came mto his eyes, and what the warriors 
 
 of the town could not do, the peaceful children in white did- 
 they vanquished ^ the hard heart. 
 
 o\i^' ^i'^^-r!?'"^ *^^ ^'**^' chgrry-bearers returned to the 
 city, and with them went a great procession of carts filled with 
 provisions for the serving people; and the vfiiy next day a 
 treaty of peace was signed. ^ 
 
 /?. In memory of this event, the people of Hamburg still 
 keep every year a festival, called the FeaTt of ChSrries ; Vhe 
 the stlr.'fi^' '''^' '^""^ ^^ ^^^^ S^^°^^"*«> '"-rch through 
 the i-U "'''^ ^i'^'" *' *^' ^"^^^^« «^ ^J^^^^es 1 only now 
 
 V. 
 9S. TRJE OLD OAKEJT BUCKET. 
 
 H ^ wu'*^*^ ^}'^ ^'^''* ^"^ *^^ «^^»^«« «f »»y childhood, 
 rii y^ ^""^"^ recollection presents them to view ' 
 Ihe orchard, the mSadow, the deep-tengled wild wood,' 
 
 And every loved spot which my infancy knew ; 
 ^u'^i T^^^^''^ P^nd, and the mill which stood by it, 
 
 ihe bridge and the rock wh^re the cataract^ fell ; 
 Ihe cot of my father, the dairy-house * nigh it 
 
 And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well : 
 Ihe old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 
 
 The mii8s-covered bucket, which hung in the well. 
 
 nfZ^''*"'*""^''';"'^^''^^'**™'" ter over a steep overbau^off place 
 
 dueltn !!it ,^^^°?^^^*)' ««^- ^«'- the management of milk, or in 
 
 3 oi" 1 i-! • ^* '" "^l «>"*«'«*• ^'»«»^ ^^K butter, and cheese are 
 
 «- f. zs-wi, a jffua5 laii oi w^- kept. 
 
 ! 
 U- 
 
 U 
 
 ir • 
 
282 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 2. That m6ss-€overed vessel I hail a§ d treasure, 
 
 For bitew, at noon, ^en returned from the field, 
 I found it the s6ur9e of an ex'quigite pleasure, 
 
 The purest and sweetest that nature €an yield. 
 How ardent I seized it, with hondg that were glowing : 
 
 And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; 
 Then soon, with iiie emblem * of truth overflowing, 
 
 And dripping with €ooln^ss, it ro§e from tlie well: 
 
 regent it. Water ig «alled the em'- 
 Uem of tmith be€auge of ita «lear- 
 
 ' Em'blem, & thing thought to 
 regemble some 6ther thing in ita 
 
 wading 
 
 
THE OAK TREB. 
 
 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 
 The m5ss-covered bucket Arose from the well. 
 
 S. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 
 
 As poised on the cArb it inclined to my lips I 
 Not a full blushing goblet i could tempt me to leave it. 
 
 Though filled with the nectar 2 that Jupiter sips. 
 And now, far removed from the loved situation, 
 
 The tear of regret will intrusively 8 swell. 
 As fancy rev6rts to my father's plantation/ 
 
 And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well: 
 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
 
 The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in tl'ie well. 
 
 ^SS 
 
 U 
 
 VI. 
 9 '" :E oak tree. 
 
 1. 
 
 O ING for the oak-tree, the monarch of the wood I 
 O Sing for the oak-tree, that groweth green and good ! 
 That groweth broad and branching within the fdrest shade; 
 That groweth now, and still shall grow when we are lowly laid! 
 
 2. 
 The oak-tree wa§ an acorn once, and fell upon the fiarth ; 
 And snn and shower ndurished it, and gave the oak-tree Mrth : 
 The little ^routing oak-tree ! two leaves it had at first, 
 Till sun and shower noiirished it, then out the branches bArst. 
 
 S. 
 
 The winds came and the rain fell; the gusty tgmp^st blew; 
 All, all were friends to the oak-tree, and stronger yet it grew. 
 Tlie boy that saw the acorn fall, he feeble grew and gray ; 
 But the oak was still a thriving tree, and strengthened every day. 
 
 ' QSVIet, a kind of cup or drink- 
 ing vessel without a handle. 
 
 * NSc'tar, the drink of the hea- 
 then gods, of whom Jupiter was the 
 chief or highest ; lioney ; any pweet 
 
 or very delicious drink. 
 
 3 Intrusively (In trg'siv 11), with- 
 out invitation, right, or welcome. 
 
 * PlSn taction, a place planted : 
 a large cultivated farm, 
 
 16 '• 
 
23A 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 4. 
 
 Four centuries grows the oak-tree, nor does its vGrdure^ fail; 
 Its heart is like the iron-wood, its bark like plaited mail. 
 Now cut us down the oak-tree, the monarch of the wood ; 
 And of its timber stout and strdng we'll build a vessel good. 
 
 S. 
 The oak-tree of the fdrest both east and west shall fly ; 
 And the blessings of a thousand lands upon our ship shall lie. 
 ^n ^.! all not be a man-of-war, nor a pirate shall she be; 
 Bu . A ihip to bear tlie name of Christ to lands beyond the sea. 
 
 SECTION XXIV. 
 I. 
 
 97. H£!BOLN'ES OF CHAllITY. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 DURING the late civil war, while one of the generals of the 
 Union army was in command of the department at New 
 Orleans, the Sisters of Charity made frequent applications to 
 him for assistance. They were especially desirous to obtain 
 provisions at what they termed " commissary prices " — that is, 
 at a reduction of one-third the amount which the same provi- 
 sions would c6st at market rates. 
 
 2. The principal demands were for ice, flour, beef, and c6ffee, 
 but mainly ice, a luxury ^ which only the Union forces could 
 enjoy at any thing like a reasonable price. The hospitals were 
 full of the sick and wQunded, of both the Federal and the Con- 
 federate armies, and the charitable institutions of the city were 
 taxed to the utmost in their SfiForts to aid the sick and the 
 suffering. 
 
 S. Foremost among the volunteers for this duty stood the Sis- 
 ters of Charity, Sisters of Mercy, and Sisters of the Holy Crdss, 
 who w6re busy day and night, never seeming to know fatigue, 
 
 • Verd'ure, greenness. 
 
 « Luxury (luk'^u ri). 
 
HEROINES OF CHARITY, 235 
 
 and overcoming every obstacle in the way of doing good-ob. 
 
 Nvomen, or those not trained in the school of patience, faith and 
 chanty and where the first grand lesson Idarnod is s;Sn^ 
 4. Of money th^re w^? little, and fo'od, fuel, and medicine 
 were scarce and dear; yet they never faltered, gdng orin the 
 face of aU difficulties, fhr«ugh poverty, wa;,lnd^nfrienS: 
 aspersions, never turning aside, never complaining, never d^ 
 spdinng No on. will ever know the sublime coiirage of tho^ 
 ow y Sisters during the dark days of the Civil War Only^ 
 hat Aour when the Judge of all mankind shall summon Jore 
 
 ward, the crown everlastmg, and the benediction, " Well done 
 good and faithful servant. " ' 
 
 5. It was just a week before the Western campaign opened 
 
 TZ r n '.T "^' ^f "^^ ^^«"^^^^ thJofpartmenVl 
 01 tlie Uult, that the general, a stern, irascible 2 old dfficer of the 
 regular army, sat at his desk in his Office on Julia street 
 eMy3 giving orders to subordinates, dispatehing messengers 
 hither and thither to every part of the city wh J troops were 
 stationed and stiffly receiving such of his command a« had 
 important business to transact. 
 
 6 In the midst of this unusual hftrry and preparation, the 
 door noiselessly opened, and a humble Sister of Charity entered 
 fp?/°T*,i A young lieutenant of the staff instantly arose, and 
 deferentially^ handed her a chdir, for those sombre^ gray gar- 
 ments were respected even by those who had no reverence for 
 the faith which they represented. 
 
 t. The general looked up from his writing, and t >wn of 
 annoyance and displeasure gathered darkly on his brow " Or 
 derly r The soldier on duty without the door, and who had 
 admitted thb Sister, faced about, saluted, and stood mute 
 11 waiting the further command of his chief. ^*Did I not give' 
 orders that no one was to be admitted ? "— « Yes, sir, but — -- " 
 -" VVhen I smj no or'-, I mean no one," thundered the general. 
 8 . The orderly buwed and returned to his post. He was too 
 
 visir^^n^r'^^f ' * "^""^ «'^^^- •Oi^^t^^^briefly ; in few woi^ 
 
 ^':r.r5!.r,ri... „_.. .. ^P.«^- ^-'^^ ly> with reapect. 
 .,.„, ^„„„^ ^^^^ aagry. Suiiibre, dark ; gloomy. 
 
236 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 wise a soldier to enter into explanations with so irr liable a 
 superior. All this time the patient Sister sat calm and still, 
 waiting for the moment when she might speak and state the 
 object of her mission. The general gave her the opportunity 
 in the briefest manner possible. 
 
 9. " Well, madame' ? " She raised her eyes to his face, and 
 the gaae was so pure, so saintly, so full of silent pleading, that 
 the rough old soldier was touched in spite of himself. " We 
 have a household of sick and WQunded whom we must c&re for 
 in some way, and I came to Ask you the privilege, which I 
 humbly beg you will not deny us, of obtaining ice and beef at 
 commissary prices." 
 
 10. The gentle, earnest pleading fell on dfiaf ears. " Always 
 something," snarled the general. " L&st week it wa§ flour and 
 ice ; to-day it is ice and beef ; to-mdrrow it will be c6flee and 
 ice, I suppose, and all for a lot of rascally rebels, who ought to 
 be shot instead of being nArsed back to life and treason." 
 
 . " General ! V — the Sister was majestic now — " Federal or 
 Confederate, I do not know. Protestant or Catholic, I do not 
 ask. They are not soldiers when they '^ome to us — they are 
 simply suffering fellow-crea' .res. Rich or poor, of gentle or 
 of lowly birth, it is not ours to inquire. Ununiformed, unarmed, 
 sick and helpless, we ask not on which side they fought. Our 
 work begins dfter yours is done. Yours the carnage,* ours the 
 binding up of wQunds. Yours the battle, ours the duty of car- 
 ing for the mangled 2 left behind on the field. Ice I want for 
 the sick, the WQunded, the dying. I plead for all, I beg for all, 
 I pray for all G6d's poor, suffering creatures, wherever I may 
 find them." 
 
 12. " Yes, you can beg, I'll admit What do you do with all 
 your beggings? It is always more, more, never enough !" 
 With this, the general resumed his writing, thereby giving the 
 Sister to understand that she was dismissed. For a moment 
 her eyes fell, her lips trembled — it was a cruel taunt. Then 
 the tremulous hands slowly lifted and folded tightly acrdss her 
 breast, as if to still some heartache the unkind words had 
 called up. V6ry low. and sweet, and earnest was her reply. 
 
 ' Oar'nage, bloodshed ; slaughter. ^ MSn'gled, wounded. 
 
fLROlNES OF CHARITY. 
 
 237 
 
 IL 
 
 08. HEROIJSrES OF CHARITY. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 " W^'^'^ ^^. ""! ^^ Y'^ «»^ b^ngs ? That is a hard 
 V V question to ask of one whose way of life leads ever 
 among he poor the sorrowing, the unfortunate, the mos 
 wretcheu of mankind. Not on me is it wasted, i stand here 
 m my earthly all. What do we do with it ? Ah ! some day 
 you may know." "^^ 
 
 ^. She ttirned away and left him, sad efface, heavy of heart 
 and her eyes misty with unshed tears. « Stay ! » The ffenerar« 
 request wa. like a command. He could be'st^rn, nayf alos 
 njde but he know truth and worth when he sa; it! and he 
 could be just. The Sister paused on the threshold, and for a 
 mmute^nothmg was heard but the rapid scratching of the gen- 
 
 and hl^r' "^""^r^' '' ^''"' '''^'' °" *^^ commissary for ice 
 
 sal of fh T^- *^""t^"'^ ^'^ '^''' "^^"^'^^^ I ^« it for the 
 sake of the Union soldiers who are, or may be, in your cdre. 
 
 Don t come bothermg me again. Good morning » 
 
 id'^ T *'*'^" ^'!''' '"'"''' from that day the slaughter of 
 
 hP J, T^ ''nS''^^ " ^''° P^^^^*«d> ^"d there neared 
 the city of New Orieans a steamer, flying that ominous t yellow 
 flag which both armies alike respected and allowed to pass i 
 
 all the decks were covered with the wfiunded and the dyin^ 
 jJ. Among the desperately wounded was the general in com- 
 mand of the department. He was borne from the steamer To 
 the waiting ambulance,^^ writhing in anguish from the pain of 
 his bleeding hmb, which had been torn by a shell ; and when 
 they asked where 1^ wished to be taken: he feebly moaned : 
 Any where, it matters not. Where I can die in peace." 
 6. So they took him to the Hotel Dieu, a noble and beautiful 
 hospital m charge of the Sisters of Charity. The limb was am- 
 
 ' Om'i nous, foreboding evil. 
 
 * Am'bu lance, a vehicle for con- 
 
 veying the wounded from the bat 
 
 A I „ X.' „ I J 
 
 It 
 
 i'k 
 
 m 
 
 .... J 
 
238 
 
 DOMINION FOURTfr READER. 
 
 putatcd, and thfiro ho was nftrsecl for wocks thrtjugh the agony 
 of tho sdrgical operation, the fever, the wild delirium, and for 
 many days no one could toll whether life or death would be tho 
 victor. But who was the faithful nurse, ever at hia bedside, 
 over watchful of his smallest needs? Why, only "one of tho 
 Sisters." 
 
 7. At last life triumplied, reason returned, and with it much 
 of tho old, abrupt manner. Tho general awoke to Jiud a face 
 not altogether unknown bending over him, and to feel a pdir 
 of skillful hands arranging a bandage, wet in ice-cold v.'ater, 
 around his throbbing temples, where the mad pain and aching 
 had so long held sway. He was better now, though still very 
 weak ; but his mind wixs clear, and ho could think ciilmly and 
 connectedly of all that had taken place since the fatal battle 
 which had so nearly taken his life, and had left him at best but 
 a .nutilated remnant of his former self. 
 
 S. Yet he was thankful it was no worse — that he had not 
 been killed outright. In like degree ho was grateful to those 
 who had nursed him so tenderly and faithfully, especially tho 
 gray-robed woman, who had become almost angelic in his eyes ; 
 and at last he expressed his gratitude in his own peculiar way 
 Looking intently at the Sister, as if to get her features well 
 fixed in his memory, ho said; "Did you get the ice and 
 beef?" 
 
 d. The Sister started. The question was so dirgct and unex- 
 pected. Surely her patient must be on the high road to recov- 
 ered health. *' Yes," she replied simply, but with a kind glance 
 of her soft eyes that spoke eloquently her thanks. "And your 
 name is " " Sister Frances." 
 
 10. '* Well, then. Sister Frances, I am glad you got LIk* 
 things — glad I gave you the order. I think I know now what 
 you do with your beggings — I comprehend something of your 
 work, your charity, your religion, and I hope to be better for 
 the knowledge. I owe you a debt I can never repay, but you 
 will try to believe that I am deeply grateful for all your great 
 goodness f^d ceaselrss cdre." 
 
 11. " r ^u owe me nothing ; but to Him whose crdss I 
 bear, and in .vhose lowly footsteps I try to follow, you owe a 
 debt of gratitude unbounded. To His infinite mercy I com- 
 
THE LITTLE HERO OE HAARLEM. 239 
 
 mend you. It matters not for the body ; it is that sacred n.ya- 
 tery, the immortal soul, vhat I woyhl save. My work here is 
 done. I leave you to the odro of others. Farewell." The door 
 softly opened and closed, a. o saw Sister Frances no mom 
 
 vT f.""?^ "'■torwiuu dhe received a letter, sent to the 
 care of he Mother Su|)erior, enclosing a check for one thous- 
 and doUara At the same time the general took occasion to 
 remark that he wishe.l he were able to make it twice the 
 amount, since he knew by exiHsiienco " what they did with the 
 
 III. 
 99, THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM. 
 
 AT an early period in the htstdry of Holland, a }>oy, who is 
 
 n. the hero » of the following narrative, was born in Haar- 
 
 om,a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but 
 
 happily still more so for its manufactures and inventions i„ 
 
 peace. 
 
 2. His father wa§ a dumr-i\,^t is, one whose employment 
 It w,is to open and shut the sluices, or large oak gates, which 
 placed at certain regular distances, close the entrances of the 
 canals, and secure Holland from the danger to which it seems 
 exposed-of finding itself under wftter, mther than above it. 
 
 S When water IS wunted, the sluicer raises the sluices more 
 or less, as required, and closes them again carefully at night- 
 otherwise the water would flow into the canals, overflow thorn 
 Olid inundate 2 the whole country. Even the little children iu 
 Holland aiH3 fully aware of the importance of a punctual dis- 
 charge of the si ulcer's duties. " 
 
 4. The boy was about eight years old when, one day, he asked 
 permission to take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived 
 a the other side of the dike.a His father gave hiin leave, but 
 charged him not to stay too late. 
 
 ' HS'ro, a great warrior ; the 
 chief person in a story. 
 » In &>'date, -.over with water. 
 
 " Dike, a mound of earth thrown 
 up to prevent low lands from being 
 overflowed ; a ditch. 
 
 d' 
 
 
 iw 
 
 ui . 
 
^40 
 
 DOAf/JV/ON FOUKTH READER, 
 
 6. The child 
 
 lised, and set <5ff on his little 
 
 The 
 
 promised, ana set on on lus little journey, 
 blind man thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes, and 
 the boy, mindful of his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, 
 to hear one o^ the old man's stories, but as soon as he had seen 
 him eat one muffin, took leave of him to retArn home. 
 
 6. As he went &16ng by the canals, then quite full, for it was 
 in October, and the autumn rains hiul swtlled the waters, the 
 boy first stopped to pull the little blue flo\ .i*s which his mother 
 loved so well, then, in childish gayety, hummed some mfiiry 
 sdng. The road gradually became mOre sdlitary,* and solm 
 neither the joyous shouts of the villager, returning to his cot- 
 tage home, nor the rough voice of the carter, grumbling at his 
 lazy horses, was any Idnger to be hOard. 
 
 7. The little fgllow now perceived that the blue of the flowers 
 in hi hand was scarcely distinguishable from the green of the 
 surrounding herbage,* and he looked up in some dismay.^ The 
 night was falling ; not, however, a dark winter-night, but one 
 of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which 6v6ry 
 object is perceptible,* though not as distinctly as by day. 
 
 8. The child thought of his father, of his injunction,' and 
 was preparing to quit the ravine" in which ho was almost 
 buried, and to regain the beach, when suddenly a slight noise, 
 like the trickling of water upon pebbles, attracted his atten- 
 tion. Ke was near one of the large sluices, and he now carefully 
 examined it, and he soon discovered a hole in the rotten wood, 
 through which the water was flowing. 
 
 9. With the instant ' perception which Svery child in Hol- 
 land would have had, the boy saw that the water must soon 
 enlarge the hole, thrQUgh which it was now only dropping, and 
 that utter and general ruin would be the consequence of the 
 inundation of the country that must fdllow. 
 
 10. To se**, to throw 3,way the flowei-s, to climb from stone to 
 stone till he reached the hole, and put his finger into it, was the 
 
 ' SSl'i ta r^, loaely ; retired. 
 
 ' Herbage (erb'aj), herbs collect- 
 ively ; p&sture ; grftss. 
 
 ^ Dis may', loss of courage and 
 hope; fear. 
 
 * Per cSp'ti ble, that cau be seen. 
 
 felt, or known by the senses. 
 
 ^ Ii\junction (in j ilngk'^un), order 
 or command. 
 
 " Ravine (ra vt"n'), a deep and nar 
 row hollow, usually worn by water. 
 
 ' In' slant, immediate ; quick. 
 
mh fJTTLE HERO OF HAAKLEAL f^^t 
 
 Mi€9ecaccl in stoppiitg tho flow of the water 
 
 ii. This wa§ all v6iy well for A little while, and the dhild 
 
 taght only of «,o Bue9ess of hi? device. But tfie 2ht wis 
 
 .losing .n, and wit^ tiie night .amo the .old. The 1 ftle bov 
 
 coked dro^md in vain. No one «ame. Ho .ho«ted-l e lalleJ 
 
 loudly— no on o answero^l. 
 
 eoming ^v^,y n^oment more bitii^, and tho poor finger fixed 
 
 tetldt >T 'V"' '^^"""^'^•^' ^-^ «- -""^-L soon 
 expended to tlie hand, and thcnge thronghout ti.o whole arm. 
 
 'I'f 
 
 1 1; 
 
u^ 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 The pain became still greater, still harder to beAr, but still the 
 boy moved not. 
 
 IS. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he thought of his father, 
 of his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleep- 
 ing so soundly, but still the little fallow stirred not ; for he 
 knew that did he remove the small slender finger which he had 
 opposed to the escape of the water, not only would he himself 
 be drowned, but his father, his brothers, his neighbors — ^nay, 
 the whole village. 
 
 llf. We know not what faltering * of purpose, what momen- 
 tary failure of courage there might have been during that Idng 
 and terrible night ; but certain it is that at daybreak he was 
 found in the same painful position by a priest, returning from 
 an attendance on a death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought he 
 hSaxd groans, and bending over the dike, discovered a child 
 kneeling on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale face and 
 tearful eyes. 
 
 15. " Why, dear phild," he exclaimed, " what are you doing 
 there ?"— "I am hindering the water from running out," was 
 the answer, in perfect simplicity, of the child, who, during that 
 whole night, had been evincing 2 such heroic fortitude ^ and 
 undaunted ^ urage. 
 
 16. The Ai use " of history, too df/en blind to trije glory, has 
 handed down to posterity many a warrior, the destroyer of 
 thousands of his f61l6w-men — she has left us in ignorance of 
 this real littU here of Haarlem. 
 
 ' Faltering (fal'ter ing), falling 
 short ; trembling ; hesitation. 
 
 " I! vinc'ing, showing clearly. 
 
 •Por'titfide that strengtlx of 
 mind which enables one to meet dan- 
 ger wi.a coolness and firumeBS, or 
 
 to Dear pain or disappointment with- 
 out murmuring or discouragement. 
 
 ^ Undaunted (un d&nt'ed]', brave; 
 fearless. 
 
 ^ Mnse, one of the nine goddesses 
 of history, poetry, painting, &c. 
 
THE SrHAY SUNBEAM. 
 
 US 
 
 SECTION XXV. 
 I. 
 
 100, THE STRAY SUJVBEAM. 
 
 CHILD. 
 
 AH ! little suiibedm sporting here, 
 I~\. I love to see ygu smile ; 
 It makes this gloomy room appear 
 
 A pleagant spot tlie While. 
 
 2. Oh I how I'd love like yoi; to be, 
 Witli not u fli6ught of cdre. 
 No books to li arn, no work to see. 
 And life a§ free as air. 
 
 SUNBEAM. 
 
 8. I am no idler, little one, 
 
 Though seeming so to you, 
 For every day the tiisk is done, 
 ^.^hidh I am given to do. 
 
 4' I ri§e at dawn and tell the lark, 
 'Ti§ time hi§ hymn to sing; 
 Or, o'er the sea to wave-tdssed bark, 
 I hopeful mt^ssage bring. 
 
 5. In lonely 9ell I rest aWhile, 
 An erring one to dheer, 
 Perdhan9e the only one to smile, 
 Or light the gloom that's there. 
 
 G. And When the winter'§ diilly hour§ 
 Pass weepingly away, 
 I d}in9e among the falling lowers. 
 To make e'en them seem gay. 
 
 But When the spring with s6ng and dan9e. 
 Sweeps down o'er hill and plain, 
 
 Ttipii_ frhon owT.il^n«r.yl l..r ._.. _ia 
 
 The flowers bloom again. 
 
 H\ 
 
 r *' 
 
 7. 
 
^U DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 8. So, little one, you now can see, 
 
 My time'§ not passed in vain ; 
 , I do What G6d dofh bid me do ; 
 Can you, too, say the same ? 
 
 CHILD. 
 
 9. No, no, I never knew before. 
 
 That life's not all for play ; 
 I thank you, sunbeam, o'er and o'er, 
 For wTiat you've taught to-day. 
 
 II. 
 101. THE STARS. 
 
 NO CLOUD obs€ure§ the summer sky. 
 The moon in brightness walks on high. 
 And, set in fizure,* every star, 
 Shine§, a pure gem of heaven, afar! 
 
 S. Child of ttie earth ! Oh, lift thy glange 
 To y6n bright firmament's ^ expanse I 
 The glorie§ of its realm§ explore, 
 And gaze, and wonder, and adore ! 
 
 S. Doth it not speak to every sense 
 The marvel§ of OmnipotenQe ? 
 See'st thou not th^re the Almighty'§ name 
 Inscribed in character^ of flame? 
 
 4- Count o'er tho§e lamps of quendhl^ss light, 
 Tliat sparkle thrQugh tlie i^iade§ of night ; 
 Behold them ! Can a mortal boast 
 To number that 9elestial 3 host ? 
 
 5. Mark well eacHi little star, who§e ray§ 
 In distant splendor meet thy gaze ; 
 Eadh is a world, by G6d sustained. 
 Who from eternity * hath reigned. 
 
 ' Azure (ftzL'er), light-blue ; sky- ' Celestial (se ISst' yal), belSng- 
 
 •eolored. ing, or relating, to the region§ of 
 
 ' Pir'ma ment, the region of the air ; heavenly, 
 
 air ; the sky or heaving. * E ter'ui ty, everlastinguess. 
 
WHOM SHALL WE THANK? 
 
 6. What iiien art tiiou ! 0, cHiild of elay ! 
 Amid creation § grandeur, say ? 
 
 E'en ag an insect, on the breeze, 
 E'en ag a dewdrop, Idst in sea§ ! 
 
 7. YSt fear tiiou not ; the Sovereign i hand, 
 Whidh spread tlie ocean and the land. 
 And hung tlie rolling sphere§ in dir, 
 Hafh e'en for thee a Father'^ eare. 
 
 «y. Be tl- at pea9e !— the all-seeing eye, 
 Pervauing2 earth, and air, and sky, 
 The sgardliing glan9e Vhidh none may flee, 
 I§ still, in m6r9y, turned on thee. 
 
 246 
 
 III. 
 102. WHOM SHALL WE THA.JVK? 
 
 HE CAME bounding }il6ng from his play, and While he 
 held hi§ handg under the spout, hig companion pumped 
 vigorously at tiie handle. The sparkling water streamed 
 fhrgugh hi§ fingerg, but he caught enough to cool hi§ r6§y, 
 heated fa9e. 
 
 2. He wa§ a polite little fellow ; so, after he had satisfied hi§ 
 fhlrst, he prettily raided his hat from hi§ head and said, *' I 
 fhank you, Mr. Pum]), and I ^all be glad to ^ake handg with 
 you frequently." 
 
 S. Now, if the pump had been (bin) a§ polite a§ the boy, and 
 could have spoken, it would have said, " Yqu are perfectly wel- 
 come, my little gentleman, but I am not tiie one to thank. I 
 could not have done any thing for you if it iiad not been for 
 the bright w§t*r.'* 
 
 4. " Oh well then," the bright little fellow might reply, " I will 
 try my manner*? on9e more. Here it goc§, tiien," (and he rai§e§ 
 hi§ cap) " for the water. Thanks to you, cool water, for tlie 
 good you have done me !"— ''Oh no," say§ the water, "don't 
 thank me ; for wliat could I have done, had it not been for tiie 
 
 9^'-> Tr4/1^ty%«y v^Ac 
 
 • Sovereiim (stiv'er in). *b6ye all , 
 
 otibierg ; hl^hfist in power. affecting entirely. 
 
 
 ii 
 
 I 
 
^4^ 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 spring up on the hill-side, tliat constantly seud§ itt: stream 
 down into my bosom ? " 
 
 5. " Here's to the spring then ; for thanks do not €6st any 
 thing, and they make us feel better. Thanks to tiie spring 
 that gu^e§ * up day and night witli sweet water§ ! '' — " Don't 
 thank me, my little man," the spring sing§ with silvery mufjie 
 from the ^aded dell ' on the side of tiie hill—" don't thank 
 me ; for ^at good could I do without tiie dew§ and tiie rain§ ? 
 I ^ould be a§ dry a§ the bdre rock, in a i^ort time, if it were 
 not for the§e." 
 
 6. " I am not to be diseouraged. It is plca§ant work to thank 
 sudh good friend? ; so I will keep on. Thanks to you, summer 
 rain§ and dew§ ! "— " Oh, no, don't thank us," thundered a full, 
 dark cloud that wa§ just gathering over the hill, and ready to 
 empty its treasure? into the bubbling spring. " What ^ould Ave 
 do if the sun did not dmw up moisture from the sea every 
 beautiful day, and pour it, drop by drop, into our €up?" 
 
 7. "Then thanks be givm to the ten thousand arms of the 
 sun, pumping daily out of the depths of the sea." The eye of 
 the sun flawed 3 like lightning a§ he said, "Not me ! Don't 
 (hank me. What eould I do, with all ray steam-engines, were 
 it not for the broad and deep ocean?* into wTiidh I drop my 
 su€tion-ho§e ?" 
 
 8. "Thanks, then, to the mighty seas !" and the cap ri§e§ 
 slowly again, a? the solemn dhant from the neighboring ^ore 
 readhe? the ear of the listening boy. " Not unto me ! " witii 
 a deep, melodious ^ tone, come? back the voi9e from the sur- 
 rounding sea. " Who h61lowed out in the 6arth the mighty 
 depths in wTiidh I lie? 
 
 9. " Who measured out the elements « that form my drops, 
 and made tiiem to flow so lovingly together? Who sprinkled 
 among them the salt to pre?erve them from corruption, and 
 who fre^en? and sweeten? them before they readi you ■ lips? 
 If you know, listening lad, who did this, thank Him ! "— " It i? 
 
 ' Qiish, to break forth with some 
 degree of violen<;e. 
 ' DSII, & valley or ravine. 
 « FIa8hed,sent fOrfh & ray of lielit. 
 * Ocean (6'rtiun), that immense 
 
 body of salt water amidst Whidh the 
 Iand§ of this world are placed. 
 
 ^ Melo'di oils, mugieal. 
 
 " El'e ments, the part.a into Whidh 
 6«ompound thing maybe separated. 
 
JERRY, THE MILLER. 
 
 247 
 
 G6d!'' quietly. Vhisperg the subdued 1 boy. "I thank Theo, 
 Maker of all thing§ and Giver of every good and perfeet gift, 
 for the €ooling waterg I have tasted." 
 
 10. Let us ever recollect, then, dear young readerg, from whom 
 all our blessing^ come ; and a§ we are so ready to thank, and 
 take so mudh pleasure in thanking, tiiose that bestow gifts 
 upon us, let us never forget tiie Hand that open§ to supply all 
 our wants. Whatsoever we do, \^ether we eat or drink, let us 
 do all to the glory of God, 
 
 IV. 
 103. JERRY, THE MILLER. 
 
 BENEATH THE HILL you may see the mill 
 Of wasting wood and erumbhng stone ; 
 The wheel i§ dripping and clattering still. 
 But Jerry, the miller, i§ dead and gone. 
 
 2. Year, after year, early and late. 
 
 Alike in sumner and winter weather. 
 He pecked the stone§ and calked the gate. 
 And mill and miller grew old together. 
 
 3. " Little Jerry ! ^'— 'twa§ all the same— 
 
 They loved him well who called him so; 
 And Whether he'd ever another name, 
 Nobody ever seemed to know. 
 
 . n 
 
 4: 'Twas " Little Jerry, come grind my rye ; 
 
 And "• Little Jerry, come grind my wTieat," 
 And " Little Jerry " wa§ still the cry, 
 From parent kind and diildren sweet. 
 
 6. 'Twa§ " Little Jerry " on every tongue. 
 And thus the simple truth wa§ told ; 
 For Jerry wa§ little When he wa§ young, 
 And he wa§ little When he wa§ old. 
 
 9ub dued', impressed hy a manifestation of power. 
 
 nv^- 
 
 n 
 
 I' ! 
 
24S 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 1 /^V ■'• 
 
 6>. But What in size he dhan9ed 
 to lack, 
 Jerry made up in being stronjj: ; 
 
 I've seen a sack upon hi§ back, 
 As round a§ the miller and quite a§ 
 long. 
 
 7. Alvvayg bu§y and always merry, 
 
 Alway§ doing hi§ very best, 
 A notable wag wa§ little Jerry, 
 Who uttered well his standing jest. 
 
 8, How Jerry lived is known to fame, 
 
 But hcTv he died there'g none may kuowj 
 
 w^ V" 
 
APPLES. 
 
 One autumn day the rnmori came— 
 ** The brook and Jerry are very low.'* 
 
 9. And then 'twa§ whispered mournfully 
 The leedh 2 had €ome and he wa§ dead, 
 And all the neighbors flocked to see— 
 ** Poor Little Jerry " wa§ all they said. 
 
 10. l^ey laid him in hi§ earthly bed— 
 
 Hi§ miller's €6at hi§ only i^hroud — 
 *' Dust to dust," the words were said, 
 And all tlio people wept aloud ; 
 
 11. For he had i^unned the deadly » sin, 
 
 And not a grain of over-toll 
 Had ever dropped into hi§ bin, 
 To weigh upon hi§ parting soul. 
 
 12. Beneath the hill there stand§ the mill 
 
 Of wasting wood and erumbhng stone ; 
 
 The fl^eel i§ dripping and clattering still. 
 
 But Jerry, the miller, i§ dead and gone. 
 
 249 
 
 SECTION XXVI. 
 
 I. 
 
 104. APPLES. 
 
 STRAWBERRIES,rl5jt)berrie§, dherrie§, mulberrie§, peadh^g, 
 plum§, pedr§, high and low blackberrie§, fhimbleberrie§,4 
 blueberrieg, huckleberrie§ — every fruit, indeed, exQept the 
 grape— might all better be spdred than the hdn^st, sound, 
 ruddyS^ple^^They are the delight « of an hour— the fleeting 
 
 * Ru'mor, flying or popular re- 
 port ; & story passing from person 
 to person, without any known au- 
 thority for the truth of it. 
 
 * Leech, phy§ician ; one who 
 pra€ti(;o§ the art of healing. 
 
 ^Dead'ly, -eapable of gauging 
 death t not to he fnr&iven 
 
 * Thim' ble-b«r' r^, a kind of 
 
 black ra§pberry quite -eommon in 
 Ameri«a. 
 
 5 Rud'd;^, of & red «61or ; of a 
 lively fle^ c61or, or of the color of 
 the human skin in high health ; of 
 & reddi^, fining -color. 
 
 « De light', a high degree of 
 pleasure or happinuijo ; iiiat which 
 giveg great pleasure. 
 
 M 
 
 H 
 
 ij 1 
 
 1 
 
 til 
 
 flFTIi 
 
250 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 decoration ^ of a week, or a f6rtnight,2 or of a month. They 
 play exquisitely^ into eadh other'§ hand.5, and wreathe the sum- 
 mer with continuous * variety and delicate gust.^ 
 
 2. But the apple i§ a lasting pleasure. It i§ for all the year. 
 It (jlrcle? the months. You may eat russets up to the day when 
 the new apples appear. Ag the apple i§ the most ancient, so 
 it i§ the most royal of fruits. It never die§. 
 
 3. The stiirdy^ fruit, delicious in flavor and adapted to every 
 want, i§ curiously characteristic of the farmer, who surrounds 
 his pla9e with its stiff and un&'hapely tree§, and generally leave§ 
 them to wrestle with the weather a§ they dhoo§e ; but, despite 
 
 > D8c' o ra' tion, that Whidh 15 
 added by way of ornament, or to 
 give beauty. 
 
 « Fortnight (f6rt' nit). 
 
 * Exquisitely (eks' kwi zTt li), 
 verjr nicely ; in & way to pleage and 
 
 satisfy ; with perfe-etion. 
 
 *Oon tin'u ous, without break 
 or stop, 
 
 " Gust, the sense or enjoyment of 
 tasting : reli^. 
 
 « Sturdy (ster'di), hardy ; strong. 
 
APPLES. 
 
 251 
 
 hi§ neglect, expects that they will p6ur ro§y plenty into hi? 
 basket, in the s6ft Indian-summer day§. I§ hi§ seeming neglect 
 only the confiden9e of experien9e After all ? If it bo so, how 
 can he look into hi? ordhard without blueing ? What a 
 pathetic i sermon 151 eadh of tho§e uncomfortable tree.5 ^ 
 
 Jh No wonder he hang§ his head a§ he passeg by, and s€old§ 
 hi§ team§, and scream? to them that he may not hear tiie still, 
 small voi9e of the apple-tree ! " HalloT) 1 '' it vVhisper? to him, a? 
 the wmd rustle? thrftugh the leave?, "you are a pretty hard- 
 looking customer, a? I am. We are both planted on this poor 
 hillside, and we must both grow and bedr as we best can. 
 
 5. ** Why don't you do to other? a? you would be done to ? 
 Why ^ould 1 be m6ss-bound ? Why ^ould you leave me to 
 dhoke with caterpillar?, and 16ng in vain to have the band of 
 garth loosened around my feet ? Why not wa^ me on9e in 
 a while, and dry me with a scraper ? I ^ould be all the better 
 for it, and so would you. Don't scream so noi?ily to tho?e 
 oxen, but hear \<^at I say, and do \\^at I ask.'* 
 
 6. It i? the r ost generous and unselfi^ of the fruits, con- 
 sidering how valuable it is. The huckleberry and the black- 
 berry are honest fruits too. The firm, hard, black huckleberry 
 i? a? mddest and generous in its sphere, perhaps, as the apple. 
 It i? delicious for de??ert', either cooked or in its natural state. 
 But its time i? ^ort; and although the homeliest of berrie?, 
 it i? a? capricious 2 a? a beauty. 
 
 7. The traihng arbutus, the earliest and one of the loveliest 
 of wild flower?, ha? the same minghng of humility and caprice. 
 It run? under the old moist leave? of last year— the most 
 mouldy and old-fa^ioned so9iety ; but it takes dainty little dir?, 
 and will not ^ow its fa9e upon ridh and high-bred upland?, 
 even i^^en they are in the immediate neighborhood. So the 
 huckleberiy bestows itself profusely a upon the most barren pas- 
 ture? ; but when you go to find it a few field? 611, and apparently 
 upon the same kind of soil, the whim ha? seized it and it will 
 not be found. 
 
 !j 
 
 li 
 
 ' Pa th^t'ic, affe«ting or moving 
 tender feelii^g, as pity or grief. 
 - VApricioiw (ka pridli' us), apt to 
 
 diange one'g mind 8ften and sud- 
 denly; Changeable. 
 * Pro fasely, in great plenty. 
 
 t 
 
252 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 9. Let the sluggards * go to the tint. But the rest of us will 
 ICani of the apple. Of the most ancient and honorable ancestry, 
 how humble it is ! Under what a plain homespun coat it hides 
 its perennial" sweetness and oxhftustliiss virtue! Take dlii- 
 monds and gold if you will, Mother Nature, but spAre us the 
 kindly apple 1 
 
 II. 
 
 lOS. THE FIRST OF VIRTUES. 
 
 ^1 
 
 MOTHER Marie- Aimec ' de Blonay, an intimate friend of 
 St. Jane Frances de Chantal,^ and one of the first sisters 
 in the Order of the Visitation, experienced from her infancy 
 the happy effects of devotion to the Blessed Virgin. 
 
 2. She was yet iu 'ler cradle, when her mother, dying, placed 
 her under the protection of the Mother of God and of St. Anne. 
 Having attained to years of discrS'tion, she endeavored to sho\? 
 herself a true child of Mary by 6itei\ retiring into a little Ora- 
 tory ' to invoke her. 
 
 3. Mary, on her part, deigned to become the Mother and 
 Mistress of this devout child, and herself instructed her in the 
 practice of the virtues she afterwards displayed so eminently. 
 
 4- On one occa'§ion, being then fifteen, Marie-Aimee went 
 to churcli for Vespers, and felt rather annoyed at having to give 
 place to a lady owning an estate whi^h h.-id once belonged to 
 her own auQ^stors. Not choosing to walk behind this lady on 
 issuing from the church, she remained on her knees, and 
 chanced to fall asleep. 
 
 ' Slfig'gard, a person who is lazy 
 and idle from habit. 
 
 ^Per^n'nial, flirough or be- 
 yond a year; hence, lasting for all 
 time. 
 
 ' Marie-Aimee (Ma re' A ma'). 
 
 * Jane Frances Fremiot, Baron- 
 ess de Ch&ntal, was born at Dijon, 
 France, on the 23d of January. 1573. 
 
 and died at Moulins, Dec. 13, 1641, 
 Together with St. Francis de Sales, 
 she founded the Order of the Visita- 
 tion. She was canonized in 1769, 
 and her feast is celebrated on the 
 31 st of August. 
 
 ^ Or' a to ry, a small room or 
 chapel set apart for private devo 
 tions. 
 
TOO LATE. 
 
 US 
 
 6. In a dream she then perceived our Blessed Lady, escorted » 
 by a noble c6mpany of virgins, going up to the Temple. Im- 
 mediately she rose to join the heavenly c6mpany ; but it seemed 
 to her that tlie Blessed Virgin rebuked her, and said, in a tone 
 of severity: "You are not little enough to servo me, who chose 
 to be as one rejected iu the House of God." 
 
 e Having said this, Mary turned and ascended the steps 
 eadmg to the Temple, leaving on each of her footsteps, in 
 large letters of gold, the name of a virtue, the first of which 
 was Humility, and the last, Chaiity. 
 
 7. Haying gained the highest step, she disappeared, leaving 
 Mane-Aimee heartily ashamed of her vanity, and fully deter- 
 mmeu to apply herself to the attainment of humility, which 
 she now understood to be the foundation of all perfection. 
 
 T 
 
 III. 
 106. TOO LATE. 
 
 OO late!— is the cry, and each light little word 
 
 o 
 
 Forms as weighty a sentence as ever was heard I 
 Too late at the school, or too late at the chArch— 
 Too lat^.for y«ur mates— vqu are left in the Iftrch ; 
 They are all gdne a-fishing, with tackle and bait ; 
 And you're left behind, all thrgugh being too late. 
 There is something quite wrdng when you're always too late. 
 You must surely arouse from such indolent state; 
 Too late at your work ! like a sluggard you've dozed. 
 Too late at the shop I for the shutters are closed- 
 Through your work you may shuffle,^ but do estimate 
 The Idss you sustain through thus being too late. 
 5. Some people through life everlastingly dally— 
 
 There's that lazy boy— Tom, and that sleepy girl— Sally. 
 
 Es c6rt ed, accompanied as a s Es' ti mate, to form an opinion 
 nark of honor or ceremony of the value of anythinar. 
 
 ' Shiif'fle, struggle ; scramble. 
 
 <0 
 
 k 
 
 M 
 
 tm 
 

 !tn4 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 Whate'er they engage in, they're sure to ge,t warning, 
 Bccauae they will not rise betimeB in the morning; 
 If six is her hour, she slumbers till eight, 
 And he at his work is forever too lata 
 
 ^ We pArohase a ticket a joiirney to take 
 For a day's recreation *^o mtaintaln or lake — 
 But wo just miss the train, for away it has started, 
 And friends with dear friends have pressed hands and de- 
 parted ; 
 So we turn from the platform, myself and my matt», 
 Disappointed and vexed at our being too late. 
 
 5. We send out our man with a letter to post — 
 'Tis an urgent despatch to some far distent coast; 
 Hut he meets with a friend; they just go to "The Cup," 
 And they laugh, and they chat, and they smoke, and they sup, 
 And the beer and tobacco so muddle his pate, 
 lie forgets all about it until it's too late. 
 
 Ck Employ well your time, both each hour and each day. 
 For the moments, like shadows, are passing away ; 
 Be earnest and punctual, and try, if you can, 
 To be some time beforehand ; it is a good plan ; 
 Whatever your business, profession, or state, 
 Mark strictly the time, and do not be too late. 
 
 . Many warnings we've all had to tftrn and repent. 
 And begin a new life with a goodly intent; 
 But those shuffling words, " I will do it to-m6rrow," 
 Very dften bring trouble, and trouble brings sorrow ; 
 For many a one, it is grievous to state 
 Has died a sad death through repenting too late. 
 
 IV. 
 
 107. SOMEBODY. 
 
 THERE'S a meddlesome « So.nebody " going abMit, 
 And playing his pranks, but we ciin't tind him out ; 
 He's up stdii*8 and down stairs from morning till night. 
 And always in raischiefj but never in sight. 
 
SOAfE/iODV, 
 
 a. The i-oguea I havo road of, in wdng oi in talo. 
 Are cftught at the ond, and conduct^^d to jail ; 
 But "Somebody's" tracks are all covered bo well, 
 lie never has seen the inside of a cell. 
 
 .*. Our joung folks at hOme, at all seasons and timea, 
 Are rehearsing » the roll a of " Somebijdy's " crimes ; 
 Or, ^Ost as their feet and their tongues can well run 
 Oouio to kill the liHt deed the sly scamp has done. 
 
 i '** Somebody ' has takm my knife," one will sjly ; 
 •* ' Somebody ' has carried my pencil Away ; " 
 "'Somebody' has gdno and thrown down all the blocks; 
 Somebody ' ute up all the cakeo in the box." 
 
 r>. It is "Somebody" breaks all the rubers and plates, 
 And hides the boys' sleds, and runs 6ff witii their skates. 
 And tArns on the wfttor, and tumbles the beds, 
 And steals all the pins, and melts all the dolls' heads. 
 
 0. One night a dull sound, like iixQ Immp of a head. 
 Announced that one youngster wa§ out of his bed ; 
 And he said, hillf asleep, wi>en asked what it meant, 
 " * Somebody ' is pushing me out of the tent 1 " 
 
 7. Now, if these high crimes of "Somebodv" don't cease. 
 We must summon in the detective = poli'cu ;< 
 And they, in their wisdom, at once will m-ike known, 
 The culprit beldngs to no house but our own. 
 
 Then should it tarn out, after all, to be tnje. 
 That our young folks themselves are « Somebody" too, 
 How queer it would look, if u saw them all go 
 Marched 6ff to the station-house, six in a rO v I 
 
 isfi 
 
 !| • 
 
 w 
 
 .9. 
 
 • RehQaraing (re hers' ing), ro- 
 citing ; repeating ; telling. 
 
 ^ R611, a piece of writing which 
 may be rolled up ; a Hut. 
 
 " De tSot'ive, fitted for, or skilUid 
 
 in, uncovering, bringing to light, or 
 finding out. 
 
 * PoUce (po Ifis'), a body of 5ffl. 
 cere whofle duty it is to keep good or- 
 der,anddi8Cover and prevent wrSogg. 
 
 iilir 
 
 m 
 
256 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER, 
 
 II 
 
 SECTION XXVII. 
 I. 
 
 108. THE WIAa^r JYIGHT. 
 
 K 
 
 ^LOW ^ and aloof,^ 
 Over the roof. 
 How the midnight tempests howl I 
 With a dreary 3 voice, like the dismal * tune 
 Of wolves that bay ' at the desert moon ; 
 Or whistle and shriek 
 ThrQugh limbs that creak. 
 *'Tu-who! Tu-whit!" 
 They ory, and flit, 
 "Tu-whit ! Tu-whv-) I" like the solemn owl 1 
 
 2. Alow and aloof, 
 Over the roof. 
 
 Sweep the moaning winds iimain, 
 And wildly dash 
 The elm and ash 
 Clattering on the window sash 
 With a clatter and patter. 
 
 Like hail and rain. 
 That well might shatter 
 The dusky pano I 
 
 3. Alow and aloof. 
 Over the roof. 
 
 How the tempests swell and roar I 
 
 Though no foot is astir. 
 
 Though the cat and the cftr 
 Lie dozing aidng the kitchen floor. 
 
 There are feet of Air 
 
 On 6v6ry stAir — 
 
 ThrQugh every hall ! 
 
 ' A low', in a low place, or a lower « Drear';^, causing sad or lonely 
 
 part. feelings. 
 
 « Aloof (& lof), at a small die- * Dis'mal, dark ; sorrowful ; sad. 
 
 tanco ; apart. 6 Bay, bark, as a dog at his game. 
 
HOW THE WATER COMES DOWN. 257 
 
 Through each gusty door 
 There's a jostle and bustle, 
 With a silken rus/le 
 Like the meeting of guests at a festival I 
 
 If. Alow and aloof. 
 
 Over the roof, 
 How the stormy tempests swell I 
 
 And make the vane 
 
 On the spire complain ; 
 They heave at the steeple with might and main, 
 
 And biirs' and sweep 
 
 Into the belfry, on the bell ! 
 They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well, 
 
 That the sexton t6sses his arms in sleep, 
 And diT ims he is ringing a funeral knell I 
 
 II. 
 109. HOW THE WATER COMES DOWM 
 
 HERE it comes sparkling, 
 And th^re it lies darkling. 
 Here smoking and frothing, 
 Its tumult and wrath in, 
 It hastens fi,16ng, conflicting, strdng ; 
 Now striking and raging, 
 As if a war waging. 
 Its caverns and rocks among. 
 
 2. Rising and leaping. 
 Sinking and creeping. 
 Swelling and flinging. 
 Showering and springing. 
 Eddying and whisking, 
 Spouting and frisking, 
 TAming and twisting 
 
 Around and around ; 
 Collecting, disjecting,' 
 
 Witii endless rebcHmd ; 
 
 Hi 
 
 ' Dia JSct'ing, throwing apart ; scattering. 
 
 If- 
 
25S 
 
 DOMINION FOUR Til READER. 
 
 Smiting and fighting, 
 A sight to delight in, 
 Confounding, astounding, 
 t)izzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 
 
 3. Receding and speeding. 
 And shocking and rocking, 
 And darting and parting, 
 And threading and spreading. 
 And whizzing and hissing. 
 And dripping and skipping. 
 And brightening and whitening, 
 And quivering and shivering. 
 And hitting and splitting. 
 And shining and twining, 
 And rattling and battling. 
 And shaking and quaking, 
 And pouring and roaring, 
 And Hvaving and raving, 
 
 U' And t6ssing and crdssing. 
 And flowing and growing, 
 And running and stunning, 
 And hurrying and skurrying. 
 And glittering and €itterin^, 
 And gathering and x.;athering, 
 And dinning and spinning, 
 And foaming and roaming, 
 And dropping and hopping. 
 And working and jerking. 
 And guggling and struggling. 
 And heaving and cleaving, 
 And thundering and floundering, 
 
 5, And falling and crawling and sprawling. 
 And driving and riving and striving. 
 And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 
 And sounding and bounding and rounding, 
 And bubbling and troubling and doubling. 
 
 
 
 ,.wi 
 
 :.i:_ 
 
LITTLE STREAMS. 
 
 259 
 
 And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
 And clattering and battering and shattering. 
 e. And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming. 
 And rushmg and flushing and brushing and gushing 
 And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping. 
 And ciirling and whirling, and piirling and twirling. 
 
 7. Retreating and meeting and beating and sheeting. 
 Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, ' 
 Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
 Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling, 
 
 And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping. 
 And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing ; 
 
 8. And so never ending, but always descending. 
 Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending— 
 All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar. 
 
 And in this way the water comes down at Lodore. 
 
 III. 
 110, LITTLE STREAMS. 
 
 LITTLE streams are light and shadow, 
 ^ Plowing through the pasture mgadow. 
 Flowing by the green way-side. 
 Through the fdrest dim and wide. 
 Through the hamlet ^ still and small— 
 By the cottage, by the hall. 
 By the ruin'd abbey 2 still— 
 Turning bore and there a mill. 
 
 Bearing trib^i.te^ to the river 
 
 Little streams, I love you ever. 
 
 Summer music is there flowing 
 
 Flowering plants in them are growing; 
 Happy life is in them all. 
 Creatures innocent and small ; 
 
 2. 
 
 t 
 
 ' HSm'Iet, a small village. 
 'Ab'bey, a monastic establish 
 
 , ,„. ,,,,.. ..iiuitll UCVUlCi 
 
 to tbe uses of a reiigious order. 
 
 ' Trib'ute, something furnished 
 as a mark of aid received, or as that 
 •viiich is due or deserved, tiiat which 
 enlarges or forms a part of. 
 
 iililfe: 
 
260 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Little bTrd§ €ome down to drink, 
 Fearless of their leafy brink ; 
 Noble trees beside them grow, 
 Glooming them with brandhe§ low ; 
 And between, the sun^ine, glancing, 
 In their little waves, is dan9ing. 
 
 S. Little streams have flowers a many. 
 Beautiful and fair a§ any ; 
 Typha string, and green bur-reed ; 
 Willow-herb, with eotton-seed ; 
 Arrow-head, witli eye of jet ; 
 And the water-vioiei. 
 
 
SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 There the flowering-rash you meet. 
 And i;he plumy m6adow-sweet ; 
 And, in places deep and stilly. 
 Marble-like, the water-lily. 
 
 4* Little streams, their voices cheery, 
 Sound forth welcomes to the weary; 
 Flowing on from day to day. 
 Without stint and without stay: 
 Here, upon their flowery bank. 
 In the old time pilgrims drank — 
 Here have seen, as now, pass by, 
 King-fisher, and dragon-fly 
 Those bright things that have their dwelling. 
 Where the little streams are welling. 
 
 6. Down in valleys green and lowly, 
 MArmliring not and gliding slowly; 
 Up in mountain-h611ows wild. 
 Fretting like a peevish child ; 
 Through the hamlet, where all day 
 In their waves the children play ; 
 Running west, or running east. 
 Doing good to man and beast— 
 Always giving, weary never. 
 Little streams, I love you ever. 
 
 261 
 
 SECTION XXVIII. 
 I. 
 
 111. SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 PART FIRST 
 
 THE story of St. Christopher, the man so strdng and so 
 simple-hearted, has never Idst its charm. He wa§ a giant 
 of Canaan, and was called Offero, or Bearer; that ib,*one who 
 carries great burdens. So proud was he of his wonderful 
 strength that hr- di tcrmined to set forth from the land of 
 
262 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Canaan in egarch of the most powerful monarch in the world, 
 whom alone he would condescend to serve. 
 
 2. Offero traveled far and wide and served various masters, 
 but left each as soon as he found there was one more powerful. 
 He served a mighty king, but the king was afraid of the devil. 
 Then he sfirved the devil, but found he was afraid of Jesus 
 Christ. " i can never rest," said he, "nor can I taste bread in 
 peace, until I have entered the service of Jesus Christ, who is 
 more powerful than any king on earth, or than Satan himself" 
 
 3. No sooner did he say these words than he saw at the opening 
 of a cave a hCrmit^ weaving his baskets, with his prdyer-beada 
 of small stones and his cr6ss at his side. " Canst thou tell me 
 how I can serve that Jesus Christ who is more powerful than 
 any king, and even than Satan, the Prince of Evil ? " 
 
 4. The hermit replied gently, " This King, Tvhose service thou 
 art seeking to enter, will require thee to obey His will instead 
 of thy own, to fast 6iten and to pray much." — " Fast I will not, 
 for then I should lose my strength ; and to pray I have never 
 learned — yet I wish with my whole heart to serve thy Christ." 
 
 6. The hermit was touched by these earnest words, and 
 pointing to the turbulent " river, whose hoarse mArmiirs filled 
 the air, ho said : " Though thou canst neither fast nor pray, our 
 Lord Jesus Christ will not refuse thy service. Take thy stand 
 on the bank of that deep and rapid stream, and carry over the 
 travelers who call on thee for help; for there be many that seek 
 my solitude,^ and many that pass through this desert to the 
 regions beyond." 
 
 6. Offero hCard the words of the hermit with joy, and with 
 a glad countenance took up his abode * on the banks of the 
 stormy river. Many a one did he carry on his broad shoulders 
 across its seething^ waters, ever rejoicing in this his service of 
 Jesus Christ. Meanwhile the hermit taught him many things 
 concerning his great Master. 
 
 7. One night the giant heard a childish voice callin, 
 
 g aloud 
 
 ' Her'init, a solitarv, whose life 
 is divided between prp;''er and lalwr. 
 
 •' Turbulent (ter' bu lent), dis- 
 turbed ! unquiet t ro^-tleHS. 
 
 ^ Sfil'i tude, Ji lonely place ; a 
 
 state of being alone. 
 
 * A bode', the place where one 
 dwells or lives. 
 
 B Snat.h'inar. Itnilinor ■ Imhhlino', 
 
SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 263 
 
 to him: "Good Offero, come and carry me over the swift river" 
 Prfimpt to his trust he came at the call, and on the river-bank 
 stood a small beautiful child, who held out his hands to the 
 faithful servitor.i Oflfero tooK up the tiny figure as if he were 
 a featber. But no sooner had he stepped into the stream than 
 the child on his shoulder grew heavier than any burden his 
 mighty strc'xigth had ever before endured. 
 
 8. For a moment his limbs seemed to fail him, but he be- 
 thought himself to say, « My Jesus, all for Thee ! " and instantly 
 his feet touched the further 2 shore. Setting the child down 
 on the green bank while he wiped the great drops of sweat 
 froni his brow, he said, "Child, I think the wh51e world would 
 not have set so weightily on my shoulders as thou." 
 
 9. But the child answered: "Wonder not, good OflPero- for 
 know that this night thou hast carried, not the worid, but Him 
 who made Lhe world. Henceforth thou shalt no longer be called 
 Offero, but Cbristofero. Plant now thy dry staff in the ground, 
 and to-mS ow thou shalt find it covered with leaves and 
 flowers in token a that I am He." 
 
 iO. And when Christofero saw in the morning that it was 
 indeed so, he bowed himself to the dust and said, "Truly He 
 whom I serve is the Greatest and the Best of Masters 
 
 II. 
 112. SAIJVT CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 SOON after this the word of our Lord came unto Chris- 
 topher, that he should arise and go into another country 
 for th^re also service wa§ required of him. 
 
 2. After many days and nights Christopher reached a large 
 city, and entering in, he found the streets fiUed with people 
 and everywhere were idols and their temples. Then he knew 
 that here he was to tarry ; < but he understood not the language 
 of the people, therefore, kneeling down, he prayed to" Jesus 
 
 ' Ser'vi tor, one who profesBea remote or distant. 
 
 dutv or nhfMliAnf>o a V .-<• 
 
 1 «» " /lu r" ' *" ^° *®°» ^ * sign. 
 
 Fu. ther, here means the most * TSr'ry, to remain ; to wait 
 
 II 
 
26Ji. 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 Christ that this strange t6ngue ^ might become as familiar to 
 him as his native language. 
 
 5. Rising from his knees, Christopher found that his M&ster 
 had ^ 'ard his prayer. Immediately he was able to comprehend » 
 whither the crowds about him were going, and for what pur- 
 pose. The Christians of Samos, hunted like wolves by their 
 pagan rylers, according to the edict of the Emperor Decius,* 
 w6re on that day to be given to the beasts in the gireus. 
 
 If. Christopher moved on with the throng,* and sought a 
 place as near as possible to these confessors of the faith. As 
 they entered the arena" he called aloud, "Be of good cheer, 
 my brothers, and persevere unto the end for Christ Jesus ! " 
 This fearless exhortation creating a tumult among the specta- 
 tors, the president of the games ordered the offender to be 
 expelled.* 
 
 6. As the oflBcers approached and saw his gigantic figure they 
 hesitated, and Christopher said, "Such puny' creatures as ye 
 are I could cru^ with my lingers, but fear not I Ye serve 
 your master, and I serve One far mightier, as I will show." 
 Going out, he planted his huge staff firmly in the ground, pray- 
 ing to G6d that it might again put forth leaves and frvjit in 
 order to convert these people. 
 
 6. And again God hearkened to the prayer of His servant, 
 for Immediately the dry staff stood before all the city a palm- 
 tree in full leaf, and bearing most delicious dites. At this 
 sight many were instantly converted to Christ. But the king, 
 Dagnus, hearing of */hese wonders and filled with hatred, 
 ordered that Christopher should be brought before him. 
 
 7. He, meanwhile, remained without the city receiving and 
 instructing those who resorted to him. The soldiers found 
 b ' a alone and absorbed in prayer, his face and figure so sublime 
 in attitude and expression that they paused in fear before him. 
 When Christopher had finished his devotions, he said to 
 them, " Whom do you seek ? " 
 
 ' Tongue (tiii^), language; speech. 
 
 * C6m pre h^nd', to underatand. 
 
 ' De''ci us, a Roman general wbo 
 became emperor in 349. He origi- 
 nated the flevanth e-eneral persecu- 
 tion. 
 
 * Thrfing, a multitude of persons. 
 
 * A re'na, the central area of a 
 circus or amphitheatre. 
 
 ^ Ex polled', driven out. 
 ^ Pu'nv. small and feeble. 
 
THE SIGN OF THE CROSS. ^65 
 
 great fidelity, we too will servo tty Oh^^\jT^ ^^ 
 trc^m . him that he should aave hiielf '"' ""' ™- 
 
 9. But Chnstopher insisted « on beinir hmiiffl,f \^t ^i. 
 k,„^ who into™ga.,d hi» as to htl^tl' ^i™ 
 
 ^^i^Vr^tTi^y^^^^y^T- '"%?*™' "•" "™ I ™ 
 
 taking thatof Pi.~ * T "^' ^^^ *''y^" " «"'y nsmc in 
 
 ^^. "With good reason/' retorted Christopher "hast thnn 
 been called Dagiius; thou who art the deat/of ho ZmIZ 
 the companion of the devil." Then the kino miorl Zi!l 
 rronou a his sentence: «Bi„d this ChtSt:* ^ 
 .md lot four hundred archers pio:^e him with tbeir ilrrow^ 
 
 n. The archers indeed were skillful, but not a w&non 
 
 Wan T^- ?"" ""'"' '"™<1 '" "« flight, as it dri^" 
 by an mv.8.blc hand, and entered the king's eye Eoarinrwtth 
 
 pan, he cncd out to the axemen, « Behea'd t/at eril oTe!^"'*" 
 
 1- Then Chnstopher called out in a loud voice " Behold n 
 
 Dagnus my end is at hand, but take thcGarth th;tis wcfwith 
 
 on thf earth ■""■"'"' *° '"''^ "' Christopher relied 
 
 So^ t^d n " Tt '"'' '" ' "'" I"™ '=^'^^''' 'he sight was 
 restored and Dagnus, like another Paul, with the recovery of 
 his bodily sight, received the gift of psrfect faith. ^ 
 
 III. 
 
 lis. THE 8IGJV OF THE CROSS. 
 
 TT is the token, the memorial of the pains and humiliations 
 
 1 which oar dear Lord bon3 for us; and each time we S 
 
 ■t we ought to mean thereby that we take un Hi« n.x„ Tl!^. ■! 
 
 Bn treat ed, begged ; persuaded; ''l^^^^T^^h^l^^^^^^ 
 
^66 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 willingly, eikisp it to our heart, and unite all we do to Hig eav- 
 iitg Passion. 
 
 2. With this intention, let tiio Sign of the Crdss be ygur 
 first waking act ; dedicating your day to Him a^ A soldier of 
 the Cross, let your last conscious act before sleep be that 
 precious sign, wTiidh will bani^ evil spirits from your bedside 
 and rest upon you a^ & safeguard till the day return^. 
 
 3. Begin your prdyer§, your work, witli the Sign of the CrOss, 
 in token that they are dedicated to Ilim. Let it sanctify ^ your 
 ^oin^ fHit and your coming in. Let it b&lldw ^ your conversa- 
 tion . ad intercourse witli otliers, Whether social or in the order 
 of bu§iness. 
 
 Jf.. Who could be grasping, over-rcadhing, false ; who could 
 give way to unkind words, judgments, undiaritable gossip, 
 unholy talk, who had but just stamped the Cr6ss of Christ 
 upon their lips in token that they are pledged to u§e the gift of 
 speedli, like all else, in the servi9c of their G6d ? 
 
 5. Let it consecrate your food, so that eating and drinking, 
 instead of the mere indulgen9e of earthly craving^, may be " to 
 tiie glory of God." Let the Sign of tiie Cross soothe and stay 
 you in sdrrow, wTien, above all, you are brought near Ilim who 
 lays it on you, but who also bore it for you. Let it sober and 
 steady your hour of joy or pleasure. 
 
 6. Let it ciilm your impulse of impatien9e, of petulan9e,8 of 
 intoleran9e of others, of eager self-assertion or self-defen9e. 
 Let it dlieck tliO angry expression ready to break forth, tlie 
 unkind word, the unloving sarcasm.'* 
 
 7. Let it purify tiie light, or careless, or irreverent utteran9e, 
 the conventional falsehood, the boastful word of self-seeking. 
 And be sure that if the Sign of tiie Cross i^ thus your compan- 
 ion and safeguard through the day, if in all pla9e§ and seasons 
 you accustom yourself to "softly make the sign to angels 
 known," it will be as a tower of strength to you, and the power 
 of evil over you will become feebler and feebler. 
 
 ' SSnc' ti fj', make holy or free 
 from sin. 
 
 * HSl'low, set apart for reli/jious 
 use ; make holy. 
 
 8 PSt'u lance, state of being fret- 
 ful ; peevi^ness. 
 
 '* S&r' casm, a tauLt ; a «utting 
 jest ; keen wordg of s«orn. 
 
 i 
 
THE HUN'S DEFEAT, 267 
 
 IV. 
 114. THE HVJ^'S DEFEAT. 
 
 [Attila, Kiug of the Hum, approaching the city of Troyes, Saint Lupus 
 who was then bishop of the place, went forth to meet him, saying • " Who 
 are you, who wast, atui ruin the earth ? " And Attila answered, " / am 
 t^ Scourge of God." Whereon the holy bishop replied: " The Scourge 
 of God xs welcome ; " and opened the gates of the city to him. But. as his 
 soldiers entered. Gov, doubtless in reward of such humble submission to DizHne 
 J^rovtdence. blinded them, so that they passed through without doing the least 
 injury to the place or the inhabitants.} 
 
 IT WAS the glad midsummer time, 
 l^e sun ^one bright and clear, 
 'I'he brrd§ were singing in tfi(> bonghg, 
 
 The Air wag full of dieer, 
 And overhead the blue sky spread, 
 
 Without a fleck or flaw, 
 When messengers of evil brought 
 The fearful ncv/j Lo Troyes. 
 
 I 
 f 
 * ■'61 
 
 
 M 
 
 S. 
 
 3. 
 
 With fire and sword, u savage horde 1 
 
 I§ wasting all the land ; 
 No for9e may stem 2 their wild onslaught," 
 
 No pity stay their hand; 
 And hither now their course is bent : 
 
 Before the set of sun, 
 Will €lo§o him rcnind your walls of strength. 
 
 The fier9e and fiery Hun ! " 
 
 Ah, me ! the woful sights and sound§ 
 
 That filled the 9ity then. 
 The terror wild of wife and dnild, 
 
 The still dospAir of men ; 
 In the €oun9il and the arsenal* 
 
 Were tumult and affright- 
 One pal§y of wOiite terror bound 
 
 The burgher and the knight. 
 
 ' HSifde, & -company of wandering 
 
 people migrating- from placjeto placje. 
 
 ' Stem, to oppose. 
 
 » On'slaught, attack ; assault. 
 * Ar'se nal, h magazine of armf 
 and military stOreg. 
 
SG8 
 
 DOAflNION FOURTH READER. 
 
 4' " Yet,'' said their prin9ely bishop, 
 
 " I§ not G6d a§ striiiig to save, 
 A§ when Ho led Hi§ cho§en rugo 
 
 Aerogs the parted wave ? 
 Ch ! seek Ilim still, against who5e will 
 
 No danger fan l)efall, 
 Although tfie leagu^red* hostn of hell 
 
 Were thundering at ygur wall." 
 
 5. Then a calm fell on the people, 
 
 And a cfliant of piteous prAyer, 
 Kojje in polemn diapfigon « on 
 
 The huiOied and trembling Air ; 
 And, amid their doleful litanie§, 
 
 The bishop passed in state 
 To Mifherii tiie foe, witli heavy blow. 
 
 Struck at the outer gate. 
 
 0. From the ardhed and olden doorway, 
 
 Asked he of their €i\ptain strong : 
 " Now, who are you would menage thus 
 
 Our peagef ul home§ with wrong ? " 
 But Attila answered scornful ly. 
 
 He spake in bitter mirth : 
 " 'Ti| ttie Scoftrge of God, to whom 'tis given 
 
 To slay and waste the garth ! " 
 
 7. The p&stor bowed obedienge low, 
 
 Laid €ope and stuT aside, 
 Then ongc again addressed him to 
 
 That man of blood and pride ; 
 But now sudh aegents clothed his word§, 
 
 Sudh tender tones and moving, 
 That all who heard were inly stirred 
 
 At a faifh so leal 3 and loving: 
 
 8. "And G6d forbid our gates i^ould clo§e 
 
 Against tlie Master dear; 
 
 ' Leaguered (h-'gerd), united. 
 * Di'a pa'son, harmony. 
 
 8 Leal, loyal ; falfhful 
 Land of the- Leal, Lea'-ea. 
 
 true 
 
THE HUN'S DEFEAT. 
 
 269 
 
 ^^-^^■^^ 
 
 
 III v^atsoevor gui^e He eomag. 
 
 He's surely wcit'ome hero. 
 We gladly bid Him to our hall§— 
 
 We pray Him thoro abido/'— 
 And vith lji§ own old handtj he flung 
 
 1a-0 clanging portal § wide. 
 
 0, Have you seen liie stream that swept, like dliaff, 
 
 Its iiurbing banks away, 
 Silver-footed tread the meadows, 
 
 ]S'"or displa9e a bran(<h or sprfiy ? , 
 So, thrQugh the gates «jf Troyes nnbar-ed, 
 
 Sivw welled the fiery Hun j 
 
 ¥ 
 
'270 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 But he reft no burgher's treasures, 
 And hi^ hand wa§ raised 'gainst none. 
 
 10. O'.i I the wonder§ of G6d's m6r9y ! 
 
 He wa§ blind to all fhings nigh — 
 Only saw he €loud§ of angels, 
 
 Threat'ning from tlie upper sky ; 
 And a terror wilder than it brought 
 
 Urged on the affrighted horde— 
 Her prelate's faith saved Troyes from seAth,* 
 
 And tibie fier9e barbarian sword. 
 
 SECTION XXIX. 
 I. 
 
 115. THE Km'BLY WIJYTER. 
 
 THE ^NOW lies deep upon tlic ground; 
 In €oat of mail the pools are bound ; 
 The hungry ro'oks in squadrong fly, 
 And wind§ are slumbering in the sky. 
 
 2. Drow§ily tiie snow-flakes fall ; 
 The robin on the gar^^^n-wall 
 Looks wistful at .. window-pane. 
 The eustomary erumb to gain. 
 
 3. On barn and fhatdh and leafless tree 
 The frdst ha§ hung embroidery, 
 Fringe of 193 and pendants fine 
 
 Of filigree 2 and erystalllne.^ 
 
 4. Pile up tile fire ! the winter wind 
 Although it nip, i§ not unkind ; 
 
 And winter day§, though dark, €an bring 
 As many pleasure^ as the spring. 
 
 * ScSlh, damagfe ; injury ; waste; 
 destru«tion. 
 
 ' Fill gree, granular net-work, or 
 net-work «ontaining bead§ ; hen<;e, 
 ornamental work, executed in lino 
 
 gold or silver wire, plaited and 
 formed into deli«ate figui-ei of men 
 and animalg, fruits, plants, etc. 
 
 ' OrfW tal line, consisting of or 
 resembling crystal; pure; clear. 
 
THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 5. If not tho floweret budding fdir, 
 And mild effulgen9e ^ of iliG air, 
 They give the glow of indoor mrrfh, 
 And social comfort round tlie hearth. 
 
 6. The winter i.5 a friend of mine ; 
 His step i§ light, his eyeball^ ^line; 
 Hi§ dheek i§ ruddy as the morn ; 
 He €arol§ like the lark in corn. 
 
 7. Hi§ tread is brisk upon the snow§, 
 Hi§ pulse^ gallop a§ he goes ; 
 
 He hath a smile upon hi§ lips, 
 
 Witii s6ng§ and welcomes, jests and quips. ^ 
 
 8. 'Ti§ he that feeds the April buds ; 
 
 'Ti§ he tiiat clothes the summer wo"od§ ; 
 'Tis he makes plump the autumn grain; 
 And loadfj with wealth the creaking wain. 
 
 9. Pile up the fire ! and 6re he go, 
 
 Our blessing§ on his head ^all flow— 
 The hale old winter, bleak 3 and sear,* 
 The friend and father of the year! 
 
 271 
 
 II- 
 116. THE TWO ROADS, 
 
 NEW YEAR'S night, and Von Arden, having fallen into 
 an unquiet slumber, dreamed that he wa§ an %ed man 
 standing at a -indow. He raided hi§ m6urnful'eye§ toward the 
 deep blue sky, Vh^re the star§ were floating, like white lilies 
 on the 6urfa9e of a clear, calm lake. Then he cast tiiem on the 
 earth, ^QVQ few more helpless beiitgs than himself now moved 
 toward their 96rtain goal S— the tomb. 
 2. Already, as it seemed to him, he had passed sixty of the 
 
 ' BffiQ'gSnce, h flood of light; 
 great luster or brightness ; the state 
 of being splendid. 
 
 * Quip (kwip), k smart, sar^asti* 
 turn ; & severe reply ; & jeer. 
 
 3 Bleak, «old and sweeping; swept 
 by «old windg ; dheerless. 
 
 * Sear, dry ; withered. 
 
 ^ 05al, the point set to bound & 
 ra(}e ; the final purpose or end, . 
 
272 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 stage§ \diidh lead to it, and he had brought from liis journey 
 nothing but errors and remorse. Hi§ health wa§ destroyed, lii§ 
 mi'ui va€ant, hi§ heart sorrowful, and hi§ old age devoid of 
 €omlort. 
 
 S. The days of hi. yQufh rose up in a vision before him, and 
 he recalled the solemn moment wlien hi§ fatiier had pla9ed him 
 at tiie entran9c of two roads — one leading into a pea9eiul, sunny 
 land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft, 
 sweet s5ngs; the otiier leading tiie wanderer into a deep, dark 
 €ave, wlieuQe there wa§ no issue, wli^re poison flowed instead of 
 water, and wTiere serpents hissed and crawled. 
 
 4. He lo'oked toward the sky, and eried out in h. , agony, 
 *♦ day§ of my youth, return ! fatlier, plage me onge more 
 at the entrange to life, that I may dlioo§e tlie better way!" 
 But the days of his youth and hi§ fatiier had both passed away. 
 
 5. He saw wandering lights floating away over dark marges, 
 and tlien disappear : the§e were the days of hi§ wasted life. He 
 saw a star fall from ht^aven, and vani^ in darkness: tliis was 
 an emblem of himself; and the ^arp arrow§ of unavailing 
 remorse struck home to hi§ heart. Then he remembered hi§ 
 Sarly companion^, who entered on life witii him, but who, hav- 
 ing trod the paths of virtue and of labor, w6re now honored 
 and happy on this New- Year's night. 
 
 6. The clock in the old diArch-tower struck, and the sound 
 falling on hi§ ear, recalled hi§ parents' early love for him, th^ir 
 Erring son ; the lessons they had taught him ; the prAyers they 
 had 6ffered up on hi§ behiilf. Overwhelmed with sliame and 
 giief, he ddred no longer look toward that heaven where his 
 father dwelt; his darkened eye§ dropped tear§, and with one 
 despdiring effort he cried aloud, " Come back, my early day§ ! 
 come back ! " 
 
 7. And hi^ygufh did return; for all tliis was but a dreatr. 
 T^^idh visited hi§ slumber§ on New-Year's night/ He was still 
 young; his faults alone were real. He tlianked G6d fCrven^'y 
 tiiat time was still hi§ own; tliat he had not yet entered tiie 
 deep, dark cavern, but that he wa§ free to tread the road 1 jd- 
 ing to the peageful land, wTiere sunny harvests wave. 
 
 8. Ye who still linger on tiic thres^iold of life, doubtv'ig whicii 
 path to dhoo§e, remember tiiat, w^ieu yearg have ptissed, and 
 
RING OUT, WILD BELLS. 
 
 273 
 
 your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you will ery bitterly, 
 hut €ry in vain ; " C youth, return ! Oh give mc back ny 
 early day§ ! " 
 
 III. 
 
 117, niKG OUT, WILD BELLS. 
 
 RING OUT, wild bell§, to tlie wild sky. 
 The flying cloud, tlie frosty light ; 
 The year is dying in the night : 
 Ring out, wild bell§, and let him die. 
 
 2. Ring cut the old, ring in tlie new, 
 
 Ring, happy bells, acrdsrf the snow : 
 The year i§ going— let him go; 
 Ring Mit tlic false, ring in the true. 
 
 3. Ring out the grief tliat saps the mind. 
 
 For tho§e that here we see no more ; 
 Ring out the feud of ridh and poor. 
 Ring in redress to all mankind. 
 
 -4. Ring out a slowly dying eause. 
 
 And ancient forms of party strife. 
 Ring in the nobler mode§ of life. 
 With sweeter manner^, purer law§. 
 
 5. Ring out the want, the €aro, tlie sin, 
 
 The faithless coldness of die tiine§ ; 
 Ring oui,, ring out my mournful rh /mes, 
 But riivg the fuller min jtrel :n. 
 
 6. Ring out false pride in pla9e ard blood, 
 
 The 9ivi€ slander and the -spite ; 
 Ring in the love of rutli an> ,iit. 
 Ring in the eoramon love of looit. 
 
 7. Ring wit old shapes of foul di§eap^ 
 
 Ring out th !^S,rrowing lu; t of gold; 
 Ring wit the thousand wars of old. 
 Ring lu the thousand yearg of pea9e. 
 
 
 Ill 
 
£74 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 SECTION XXX. 
 I. 
 
 118. FIRST VIEW OF MONTREAL. 
 
 MONTREAL, a§ we upproadlied it. for the first time, 
 more than twenty years ago, though a fine and striking 
 picture, presented a strange and foreign aspeet. Stretcfhing 
 far away along tlie margin of tiie St. Lawrence river lay thi^ 
 di6§m 9ity 1 of Mary, with its tin roofs reflecting the midday 
 sun, a stately mountain, wooded to tlie summit, rearing its giant 
 bulk behind for great part of the 9ity'§ length. 
 
 2. Grandly conspicuous 2 about the 9enter rose two massive 
 and square Gothic 3 towers, crenelated,^ and surmounted by 
 grageful minarets s at every corner. This, my heart told me, 
 wa§ a Catholic dhurdi, most probably dedicated to tiie Motiier 
 of Christian?. So uplifted wa§ I at tlie thought, that it wa.5 
 witii an anxious heart I asked a gentleman, whom I judged to 
 be a priest, What noble building tliat wa§. 
 
 S. He told me that it wa§ tlie dhurdh of Notre Diirac (Oiu- 
 Lady), commonly called the Frendh Ohurdh. Also, that it wa§ 
 built by th<5 Seminary of Saint Sulpi9e, and wasj considered oiie 
 of the finest spe9im'^n§ of dhurdh architecture in Am(5ricii, 
 being built on ti] iel of some of tlie grand old cathedral? 
 
 of Europe. 
 
 4. ''Thank G5u . fervently exclaimed. The good priest 
 
 ' Chosen City of Mary. Tlie 
 original name of Montreal was ViRc 
 Marie, or "City of Mary." The 
 Frendi Company of Montreal wa§ 
 founded in 1686, " for ti e -conversion 
 of the savageg and the maintenan(;e 
 of the Cafholi-e religion in Canada." 
 Five priests, at the head of whom 
 wag M. Olier, the founder of St. Sul- 
 picje, a cardinal, k duche? two 
 dukes, twelve noblemen, and k Sis- 
 ter of Charity formed the associa- 
 tion, who^e plan wag to build upon 
 the Isle of Montreal k twvn Whidh 
 ^ould be at on(;e a home for the 
 
 missiong, k defense Against the sav- 
 ages, anda<;enterof€ommer?e forthe 
 neighboring people, vdiicrti Aould be 
 ■eonse«rated to the most holy Vir- 
 gin, and be «alled VUle Mcme. 
 
 ' Oonspic'uousjopen to the view; 
 eagy to be seen. 
 
 ' OSth'ic, suitabk or relating to 
 a style of building with high and 
 ifliarply pointed ardheg, «lustered 
 «olumng, etc. 
 
 * OrSn' el rt ed, indented or fur 
 nisflied with battlements. 
 
 * Min' a rets, slender, lofty tur- 
 rets, or little towers. 
 
FIRST VIEW OF MONTREAL. 
 
 275 
 
 looked at me, and a benevolent smile lit up hi§ dark, sun- 
 browned feature^. "So, my dear young lady, you l)ave u dif- 
 ferent feeling in regard to y6nder tower§ from that expressed 
 by a reverend gentleman who, erdssing here from the States, a§ 
 we are now, and struck by ttie noble aspeet of the dhurdh, 
 asked, like you, what tower§ tiio.^e were. On being told, he 
 raided hi§ hand§ and eyeg in pious hdrror, and, with a deep 
 groan, ejaculated — ' Alas I alas I the horns of Babylon / ' " 
 
 5. My brother tiien joined us, and we three conversed to- 
 getner during tlie sfhort remainder of our stay on tiie ferry-boat. 
 The cordial welcome of this good gentleman wTien we landed 
 on the Whftrf wa§ very dheering to us. 
 
 6*. It i§ not without justi9e tliat Montreal iij called the Rome 
 of America, for, indeed, it i§ a city of Catholic association^, of 
 Catholic institution^, and, to a great extent, of Catholic m6ral§. 
 Beside§ the great dhurdh of Notre Dame and our own St. Pat- 
 rick's, wTiidh oecupie§ one of tiie noblest sites in the vi9inity, 
 tiiere are dhurdhe§ of every size, many of them v(5ry fine spe9- 
 imen§ of art. 
 
 7. No 9ity tliat I know of ha§ so many religious confrater- 
 nities a§ Montreal, and, on the Sunday witliin tlie octave of 
 Corpus Christi, When the Catholic people walk in pro9ession 
 through the streets of the 9ity in honor of the BlSss^d Stlcra- 
 ment, it is consoling, and, at the same time, surprising, to see 
 tlie vast number of person^ of eitinr sex who bel6ng to the§e 
 sodalitieg. 
 
 8. Besides the different confraternities of Our L{idy estab- 
 lished in the various diurdhes, there are so9ietie§ in honor of 
 many of the Saints. First and greatest of these i§ tlie St. John 
 tlie Baptist So9iety, the n&tional one of tiie Frendi Canadians ; 
 also the St. Patrick's So9iety, comprising a large number of the 
 Iri^men of the 9ity — then tliere are tlie St. Michael's, and the 
 St. Joseph's So9iety, that of the Holy Family, and of ttie Bonne 
 Mort, or Happy DeaCli. 
 
 9. I happened to be present one morning in the pari&Oi 
 dhurdh at an early Mass. It was tiie last Sunday of Mardh, 
 and the entire 8o9iety of St. Joseph — consisting diiefly of 
 young men and boys — sang during the service, with true devo- 
 tional feeling, several hymns Proper to tlie occasion. Never 
 
 
276 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH FKADER. 
 
 did I hear niugie witii more real pleasure ttan tho§e sacred 
 melodie§ sung with sucfh simple fervor, by so full a choir of 
 male voi9e§, all apparently well trained in dhurdh mugie. 
 
 10. What was still more touclJiig wa§ to see all the young 
 men re9eiving Holy Communion, and tiiat witli the most edifj" 
 ing piety and reeolleetion. Happy are tlioy wlio tiius remem- 
 ber their Creator in tiie day§ of their youth ! Happy, too, the 
 9ity whoije young men enroll themselves under the banner? of 
 the Saints, for, faithful a§ tiiey must bo to their religious 
 dutie§, they can not fail to be good and useful 9itizen§. 
 
 11. On another oeeasion, wTien I went to Vesper§ at Notre 
 Dame, I wa§ surprised to see a large number of tho§e i)re§ent 
 provided witli 16ng wax taper^). While thinking wiiat tliis 
 might mean, the servi9e wa§ drawing to a elo^e, and persons 
 began to move through the aisles, lighting tlie taperg in tte 
 long row§ of pewg. 
 
 12. In a very few minute? the vast dhurdh, with its two tiers 
 of gallerie?, wa§ itwinkling all over witii star-like lights, wliidli 
 n-ere kept burning during tfie Benediction of the BldssM Ssk- 
 ramont. The spectacle was rare and very beautiful, but it puz- 
 zled me not a little at tiie time. I afterwards learned that i t wa§ 
 the monthly assembly of the So9iety of Zft Bonne Mort— 
 Happy Death. 
 
 IS. Sudh scenes are only to be witnessed in Catholic coun- 
 tries, and they go far to make us forget that we live in an nge 
 of so-called Eea§on, not of Faith. It i§ good for us to see 
 them, at time§, to remind us that the world i§ not all absorbed 
 by the cold materiali§m of wliat is called Modern Pr6gress; 
 that the truths of Faith are still believed on earth— that the 
 garden of religion still bearg the ridhest flower§ of piety and 
 devotion. 
 
 11. 
 119. TO OUR LADY, 
 
 O VIRGIN MOTHER, Lady of Good Counsel, 
 Sweetest picture artist ever drew, 
 In all doubts I fly to thee for guidan9e, 
 Mother ! tell me, what am I to do ? 
 
9., 
 
 TO OUR LADY. 
 
 By the light within thy dear eye§ dwelling, 
 Sheltered safely in' thy mantle blue, 
 
 By Hi§ little arm§ around thee twining, 
 Motiiei', tell me, what am I to do ? 
 
 S. By the light within thy dear eye§ dwelling, 
 By the tearg tliat dim tlieir lustre too ; 
 By the story tliat these tear§ are telling, 
 Mother, tell me what am I to do ? 
 
 Jf. Life, alas, is hiteu dark and dreary, 
 
 Cheating s'hadow? hide tlie truth from view, 
 When my soul is most perplexed and weary. 
 Mother, tell me \<^at am I to do? 
 
 B. See my hopes in fr&gile vessel tossing. 
 Be the pilot of that trembling erew, 
 Ouide me safely o'er the dangerous crossing, 
 Mother, tell me, w^at am I to do ? 
 
 G. Should I ever wilfully forgetting, 
 
 Fail to pay my G6d his homage due, 
 Should I sin and live without regretting. 
 Mother, tell me wTiat am I to do ? 
 
 7. Stir my heart, while gazing on thy feature^, 
 With the old, old story, ever new — 
 How our God ha§ loved his sinful ereatures, 
 Then, dear Mother, ^ow me what to do! 
 
 S. Plead my cause, for what can He refuse thee ? 
 Get me back his saving gra9e anew. 
 Ah ! I know, thoii dost not wi^ to lose me, 
 Motlier, tell me, what am I to do ? 
 
 9. Thus alike when needful sorrows cOias^en, 
 A§ amid joy'§ visits fair and few. 
 To thy ^rine with loving trust I has/fen. 
 Mother, tell me, what am I to do ? 
 
 m. Bo of all my friends tlie best and dearest, 
 my counsellor, sin9ere and true ! 
 
 277 
 
^78 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Let ttiy voi9e sountl ahvay§ first and elCar^st, 
 Mother, tell me, wliat am I to do ? 
 
 11. In thy guidange tranquilly repo§ing. 
 
 Now I fa9e my toil§ and €are§ anew ; 
 All through life and at its awful closing, \ 
 
 Motlier, tell me, wTiat am I to do ? 
 
 III. 
 120, TOROJVTO. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 TORONTO, the "Queen City of the West," approadlicd 
 from Lake Ontario, from What seem§ at first but a bare, 
 low-lying stretdh of land, rising gently on the right, gradually 
 breaks into a panorama^ of great beauty. The scene gain§ in 
 attractiveness from a fringe of tree§ and other objects, now 
 elearly distingui^ed on a spit of land in front of the far-spread- 
 ing yity. On tha't mound of earffi, Whidh the steamer near§ 
 on its entrange to the harbor, stood the old French fort of 
 Toronto, and there all the early history of tlie pla9e, a§ a trading 
 and military post, 9enter§. 
 
 2. The view of tlie 9ity at this entran9e, with its array of 
 dome and turret, ardh and spire, and the varied movements of 
 its water-frontage is one that ean not fail to evoke * pleasure 
 and create surpri§e. A marked contrast i§ furni^ed in a 
 description of m entran9e into Toronto Bay, May, 1793, a§ 
 follow§: 
 
 3. '- Here General Simcoe had regolved on laying the founda- 
 tion§ of a Provincial capital. I still distinctly recollect the 
 untamed aspect w^idi the country exhibited \\^ien first I en- 
 tered the beautiful basin. Dense and trackless fdrests lined 
 the margin of tiie lake, and reflected tlieir inverted image§ in 
 its glassy surfa9e. Tlie wandering savage had constructed hi§ 
 ephemeral ^ habitation beneath tlieir luxuriant* foliage, and the 
 
 * PSn' o rS' ma, k complete view 
 in all dire€tion§ ; h picture repre- 
 senting extended scene§, a part only 
 appearing at & time. 
 
 * E voke', to summon forth ; to 
 
 «all out. 
 
 ^ "E phSm''e ral, lasting but k day, 
 or k ^ort time. 
 
 * Lux u'ri ant, plenteous or ridli 
 in growtli ; very abundant. 
 
TORONTO. 
 
 t79 
 
 bay and neighboring mar^e§ were the hitherto uninvaded 
 haunts of immense edveyfj ^ of wild-fowl." 
 
 Jt, From this histdrie approacOi, let the eye be caught by the 
 dome§, €upolas2 and pinnacles" tiiat break the lino of sky to 
 the immediate westward. Their pre§en9e in this neighborhood 
 illustrates the saying tliat ''peage hath her vietorieg no less 
 renowned than war," for here are to be seen annually all tiie 
 feature§ of i\ grand speetaele— the eompCtitlve display of the 
 natural prfiducts and tiie manufactures of tiie Provin9e, witli 
 tlie tcn§ of £hou§and§ who tlirong the enclosure^ of tiie Exhi- 
 bition grounds to see " Cilnada'§ Great Fair." From our point 
 of view, train and steamer may be seen ruining past with their 
 loads of living freight, to disdliarge tliem at the entrance gates 
 of the park, where for a fdrtnlght eadh autumn the Industrial 
 Exhibition Association of Toronto lay§ every activity under 
 tribute, to foster tiie agricultural and manufacturing iu'dustrie^ 
 of tlie country, to afford eviden9e of their marvellous growfli, 
 and especially to display the adhievements of the year. Tlie 
 Association is now u mammoth* organization, witii a repre- 
 sentation of horse and cattle breeders, farmers, millers, ^viny 
 men, horticulturists, inventor§, artists, manufacturers, and 
 others whose exhibits are scattered through the spacious and 
 well-adapted buildings whidh grage the sixty-acre park owned 
 by tiie Society. 
 
 5. Though tlie Exhibition i§ now held under the auspices 
 of a strong local organization, with large resour9es at its com- 
 mand, it is but fair to say that the credit of inaugurating and 
 maintaining these annual b^ows is due to tiiO Agricultural and 
 Arts Association of Ontario, Whidh for nearly forty years l^a§ 
 been holding annual gatherings i" alternate 9ities of the Prov- 
 in9e, to the g^-eat benefit of the farming community and tiie 
 practical advan9ement of the industrial arts. The present 
 Exhibition Association was incorporated in 1879, and its ac- 
 quirement of tlie grounds ii^ Whidh the exhibitions ^^^ now 
 
 ' Oovey (kuvl), an old bird wiBi 
 her brood of young ; a number of 
 birds together, 
 
 * Ou'po 1?^, a dome-like or rounded 
 vault on tbe top of a buildii)g. 
 
 ' Pin' na cle, & slender tower, or 
 part above the main building ; a 
 high spiring jjoint ; summit. 
 
 * MSm'moth, gigantie ; very 
 large. 
 
 I 
 
2S0 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 hold, and tiie spirit and cntorpri.50 ^own in erecting' tho taste- 
 ful building^ on the site, and in addiijg to tlie anmml attra<'- 
 tion? of tlie Fair, are greatly to bo eonunended, and well degerve 
 tiio appreciation so hearti'y afforded by the public. 
 
 6'. Steaniiiijr slowly th > iiglj tlie caiannel, wo sweep inU> tlie 
 beautiful Hay of Toronto, 'l^ie wiusli of tlie lake has years ago 
 narrowed tlie cOiaunel, and made siid inroad.^ upon tl'mt spAr of 
 land Whicai 1oih„' kept ita integrity » a§ il i)eninsula,2 but Imj now 
 been frayed into an island— still struggling, however, to keep 
 wind and wave from oxer9isiitg tlieir r\}do violen(;o in the bar 
 bor. What " the mountain " is to tlie Montrealer, *' Tlio Island " 
 i§ to the people of Toronto. Until re9ently it wa§ regarded 
 simply a§ a fine natural breukwaf r, and the oe<'asional report 
 of a few sportsmen. Now, it hasj become— to borro'.v a i)bra§e 
 from sea-coast watering-pla9e§— ** a great marine resort " of tlie 
 townspeople, thwi§andfj of whom, all summer l6iig,'fljrong tlie 
 ferrie§ to its ^loreg, to enjoy the cool breeze§ of tlie lake. 
 
 7. From Ilanlan Point— the island-homo of Toronto's noted 
 oar§man— a beautiful view of tiic 9ity may be had. The foat- 
 ure§ of the island itself, moreover— die stretdieg of water- 
 meadow, t}i(> hotel§, promenades,^ and (juaint summer re§i- 
 den9e§ v n its 8^i6re§— pregent il j)icture of varied and pleading 
 outline. Lakeward, stretdhing wit beyond Gibraltar Point— 
 the site of an old Frendh block-liMise— i^ <iie great basin from 
 whicOi tlie 9ity derives its w^ter supply. Tlie water i§ jiumped 
 up, through sunken main§ laid across the bay and island, by 
 powerful 6ngine§ situated on tiie Esplanade. ^ To tiie east i.s 
 the fine, airy building of tlie Royal Canadian Yar//t Club, i 
 flouri^ing organization designed to encourage amateur yacht- 
 ing and to supply tiie mean§ of luxuriating in the adja9ent 
 lake. Still farther east, on a modest section of the peninsula, 
 now en9ir€led by tiie lapping wave§ of the lake, the Wiman 
 
 ' In tSfe'ri t^, the state of being en- 
 tire or complete ; unbroken state ; 
 moral soundness. 
 
 * Pen in'su la, & portion of land 
 nearly surrounded by water and 
 €onne«ted with the main-land by 
 a narrow neck. 
 
 3 Prom e nade", a placje for walk- 
 ing and recreation, 
 
 * Es pla nadd', & «lear spa<je be- 
 tween a (jitadel and the first hougeg 
 of the town ; fl, pla(je uged for pub- 
 li€ walks or driveg ; k grass-plot. 
 
TORONTO. 
 
 281 
 
 Bftth§ may be seen, their CHitlino sOiarply mirrored in the sunny 
 oxpuHHo of gleaming water in the bay. 
 
 8. Jtut tlic purposes to wliidi tiu^ island and water-surround- 
 ingg of Toronto may bo put, in attbrdiin^ tiio meang of rest and 
 enjoyment to its jaded 9itizen§, are almost undriJanit of. 
 llie whole of tlie lake-front of tiie island, and niudi of the 
 Ksplanadc, might be eonvCrted into a continuous promenade, 
 or drive, with flouting ponloong and oeeasional jetties thrown 
 out lak( ward, and the ne9e8sary a<ljan€t of eommodious hotelg, 
 at modest (Oiargeg, for individual and family regort. The 
 pregervation of tlie island, h.eantime, i§ A pressing duty, and 
 tlu> Muni9ipal ' uuthdritieg of tlie yity will be criminally re- 
 spouHible if tlicy continue to neglect it. The e$isten9e of the 
 bay and harbor ifj imperilled by indifFeren9e. No time b'hould 
 be lost in protecting tiu"! island from tlio encroacaiments of 
 he lake. 
 
 9. Amazing, of eOurse, have been tlie improvements Vhi(fh 
 even re9ent regidents have witnessed in tlie development and 
 beautifying of tlio watei--front of tlie 9ity. The eonti-ast, not 
 only witli the rough foreshore of tlie Simcoe period, and tlio 
 squalid 2 one of 1834, \dien Toronto became A 9ity, but witli 
 tiiat of even ten ycaig ago, i§ ^arp in tlie extreme. To-day 
 the view from any elevation overlooking the bay, or the view 
 of the 9ity from the water, ig a jiieturo tiiat, had it the accom- 
 panying smoke and f6g of an Old World landscape, a Stanfield a 
 or a Turner* might revel in. 
 
 10. And What a scene for the pen9il ig A rowing matdh in 
 tiie harbor, every specieg of craft gliding hitlier and thither, 
 or swept aside to form a clear water-lane for competing oarg- 
 men 1 Equally fine ig the view in winter. When the i9e-b6ats 
 wing their ilrrowy course over four thongand acreg of gleaming 
 crystal— tlieir frosted bellying sailg strutting witli the gale, 
 and all afire in the January sun. 
 
 • Mu nJc'i pal, relating to & -cor- 
 porate town or <;ity ; pertaining to 
 a kingdom, state, or nation. 
 
 '^ Squalid(skworid).dirtyfhrough 
 negle«t; filthy. 
 
 ' Olarkson Staufield, an Englisfli 
 
 marine painter, born in 1798 and 
 died in 1867. 
 
 * Joseph Mallord William Tur- 
 ner, an Engli^ painter, born in 
 1775 and died in 1851. 
 
 il 
 


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 DOMINION FOUR'T'H READER. 
 
 IV. 
 121. TORONTO, 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 BUT our steamer hag meantime been i?teered to the landing- 
 pla9e, and ^e glide§ al5ngside the Wharf to her moorings. 
 At the foot of Yonge Street, and on the adjoining ^harveg, 
 the €ommer9e of our inland waterg emptie§ itself. Coal from 
 Pennsylvania, stone from Ohio, fruits of all :dnd§, from the 
 Niagara Distnet and elsewhere, are piled upon the wharve§, or 
 are being €arted 6ff to the yardg and warehou§e§. Here the 
 ferrie§ ply their local trade, and the tourist sets out to «do" 
 Niagara, or, by way of the Thougand Islandg, to run the rapid§ 
 of the St. Lawren9e, "take a look" at Montreal and Quebec, 
 and, it may be, find hig way to the sea. 
 
 2. Or6ssing the Esplanade, monopolized^ by the railways, 
 the traveler at on9e findg himself in the heart of the 9i(;y. To 
 the westward i§ ti^e Union Station, the entrepdt^ oi railway 
 travel, and thither, or to the steamerg at the wharf, a stream 
 of traffic sets almost continuously. Coadheg and cabs are fly- 
 ing to and from the hotel§. The street carg glide past, divfirg- 
 ing-, a ^ort way on, towards various points. Picnicing partieg 
 or excursionists, bound for the ferrieg or for neighboring towns, 
 file by; and wagons with their burden of freight lumber aldng', 
 adding to the noige and confusion. Massive warehougeg and 
 pileg of buildingg block in tlie traffic, though the vista of 
 crowded streets opens everywhere to view. 
 
 3. The 9ity, Whidh coverg an area of eight or ten square 
 mileg, ig built on a low-lying plain, with a rising inclination to 
 ttie upper or northern end, Where a ridge boundg it, Whidh was 
 probably the ancient margin of the lake. Within this area 
 there are close upon one hundred and twenty mileg of streets, 
 laid out after a rigid dhess-board pattern, though monotony " is 
 avoided by t he prevalen9e of boulevards^ and ornamental ^ade- 
 
 ' Mo nSp'o llzed, engrossed or » Mo nbt' o ny, a disa^eable 
 
 wholly possessed or uged. sameness or want of variety ; tire- 
 
 «Entrep8t (ong tr pQ'), i plf><;e some re«urren<je of the same fhingg. 
 
 for depogit; & bonded warehouse; < Boulevard ( bg'le vJir ), publi* 
 
 A free port. ^alk or street. 
 
TORONTO. 
 
 283 
 
 tree§ in the streets and avenue§ not given up to €ommer9e.: 
 What the 9ity lacks in pieturesqueness » of situation i§ atoned 
 for m its beautiful harbor, and in the development of an es- 
 thetic 2 taste among the people, Vhidh finds expression in finely- 
 embelli^ied private ground?, and ^e increasing interest taken 
 in public parks and gardens. Nor i§ this taste less apparent in 
 the publie building?, \»^idh, in re9ent year§, have been largely 
 brought within the sphere of art. 
 
 4. The Custom House, with its adjoining Examining Ware- 
 house, i§ perhaps one of the most striking instances of the new 
 architectural Hgime. The sculptured head§ and fa9e§ reveal 
 exceptional art taate. The bu§iness done within this building 
 rates the 9ity the second port of entiy in the Dominion, and 
 constitutes it the great emporium » of the P •avin9e. The value 
 of the pre§ent annual importations is nearly twenty millions 
 of dollars, upon whidh a duty of four millions i§ levied. The 
 amount entered for exports for the year can be safely estimated 
 at between five and six millions. 
 
 6. The bnginess done at the Toronto Post-offi9e now exceeds 
 that of any other 9ity in the Dominion. Its financial trans- 
 action? amount annually to close upon two million? of dollar?. 
 There i? a box and a street delivery, and a most efficient system 
 for the collection of letter? mailed in pillar boxes over everv sec- 
 tion of the town. The building is constructed of Ohio sto.je 
 witli a finely carved /«pa<Ze, surmounted by a dome and clock, 
 and over the entran9e the Royal Arm?. 
 
 6. The Police For9e i? compo?ed of a fine body of men, one 
 hundred and twenty string, well-driUed, accoutered and uni- 
 formed, and ably offi9ered. Equally well-equipped is the Fire 
 Brigade, an organization of ex9epf • nal importaE96 to the city. 
 There are ten fire station? in various parts of the town, : id a 
 comi.lete system of fire-alarm signal boxe?. Water i? supplied 
 from hydrants connected witli the Water-works system, whidh 
 tap the main? at all convenient and necessary points. T^e 
 water is obtained from tlie lake at a point regarded a? beyond 
 t lie contaminating in flucn9e of the 9ity sewage. The Gas 
 
 ' Pict'ur gsque'ness, the state or 
 €ondition \iYi\iSh. aflfordf the pe«uliar 
 kind that ig agreeable in a pi«ture. 
 
 ^ Esth^t'ic, relating to die scienfo 
 of taste or of beauty. 
 
 *Emp6'rium,mart;9eoterof trade. 
 
284 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 I 
 
 servi9e i§ general, and i§ provided by a private company. All 
 the streets, avenues, parks, and public pla9e5 are well lighted— 
 the dhief business streets, by eleetrie lights. 
 
 7. When the late Bishop Power, more than forty years ago, 
 purchased the site for the St. Miehael'.? Roman Oathclie Caflie- 
 dral, he wa§ deemed fooli^, we are told, for proposing to ereet 
 a dhurdh in 'wTiat was then « the bu^/' Now the odifi<>e i§ 
 almost in tiie heart of Toronto, the 9ity encompassing, and 
 reaching far beyond it, in every direction. Tlie building, whidh 
 extend.5 from Bond to Oliurdh Street, with an entran9o also from 
 Shuter, i§ massive and 15fty. It ha§ a fine tower and spire, 
 beautiful stained-glass window§, with organ a'.d instnimental 
 orchestra. There are several valuable painting§, two finely- 
 carved pulpits, and five elaborate altarg in various parts of the 
 interior. In connection with the dhurc^ and its pari^ work 
 are the several religious orders, the Brother^ of the Christian 
 School?, the Ladie§ of Loretto, and the Community of St. 
 Jo§eph, who tead^i the Catholic School? of the 9ity. The 
 Basilian Father? conduct St. MichaeF? College, and are pastor? 
 of St. Basil'? OJiurdh. The Redemptorists have the direction 
 of St Patrick's Ohurdh. 
 
 5. Re9ent year? have made Toronto a 9enter for the intellect- 
 ual interests of the Provin9e. Time, wealth, and leisure are 
 ne9e8sary condition? of this devolopment. What is to be the 
 distingui^ing type cf the national character a 9enter like To- 
 ronto must have it largely in its power to determine. In its 
 eommereial growth and development the coming time will give 
 it a po?ition amoi^ tiie first 9itie? of the Continent. We would 
 fain hope that its intellectual eminen9e will be correspondingly 
 great. The aspiration remind? us of some word? of Lord Duf- 
 ferin, at the Toronto Club banquet in 1877 : 
 
 9. "After all," said Hi? Ex9ellen9y, "it i? in the town? of a 
 country that idea? are generated and progress initiated; and 
 Toronto, with her universitie?, with her law courts, witti her 
 various religious communities, her learned profession?, possesses 
 in an ex9eptional degree tho?e condition? wTiidh are most favor- 
 able to the rai?ing np amongst us of great and able men, a? 
 well a? robust and fruitful system? of religious, political, and 
 scientific thought." 
 
yACQUES C ARTIER. 
 
 11 
 
 285 
 
 10. The past history of Toronto i§ tiie best augury of What 
 her future will be. It i§ Only ihree-quarterg of a 9entury sin^e 
 the tract of land now embraged in the 9ity w^§ edvered by the 
 fOrest, and the whole region, a§ the re€ord§ of tlie Indian De- 
 partment of the Government deelare, passed at a eost of ten 
 sOiillingg from the red man to the white. The 8U€9es8ive trans- 
 forming steps from h wilderness to a capital 9ity now read like 
 a fable. But to the pioneer§ of the town, slow and toilsome, 
 we may be sure, were the initial stage§; and only stout arm§ 
 and heroic enduran9e set the 9ity upon its feet. Then, when 
 Nature wa§ subdued, wTiat contests had to be entered upon, 
 and how fier9e were the struggle^ whidh gave to the country 
 its liberties and ^aped for it its constitution I Think, too, 
 from \<^at, in ttie way of kingcraft and Old World dipfoma9y* 
 it had to eman9ipato itself ! 
 
 11. But a happier star i§ now in the as9eT.'lant. The day§ 
 of colonial pupilage are over; the strifes of the cradle time of 
 tiie Provin9e are gone by ; and it i§ now the era of progress and 
 consolidation, of national growth and the formation of national 
 charaticer. We have no troublesome questions to vex us and 
 to waste time over: we have a high mission to fulfill, and a 
 distinctive life to develop. Education i§ spreading, and its 
 refining influen9e i§ everywhere operative. Party and sectarian 
 animositie§ are on the wane; and the influen9e of rea§on in 
 journalism and politics i§ asserting itself. Let there be but 
 more patriotic feeling, a fuller national sentiment, with a more 
 expressive public spirit, and a better determined 9ivic life, and 
 t^ie metropolis of tlie Provin9e will take its proper position 
 among the varied communities of the Dominion. 
 
 V. 
 122. JACQUES C ARTIER. 
 
 PART FJRST. 
 
 AMONGST tho§e who distinguished themselve§ in the dis- 
 L eovery of the New World, there i§ none, after Columbus, 
 who hag more right to our admiration than Jacques Cartier.» 
 
 • Jacques Oartier (zhak kiir tyii'), 
 & FrentHi navigator and explorer, 
 
 the most important Canadian dis- 
 €overer, wa§ born 1494, died 1555. 
 
sse 
 
 DOMINION FOUBTH READER. 
 
 The aeeount of hig voya^§ ^ow§ him not only possessed of 
 k profound kndwledge of the art of navigation, but of an 
 observing mind, and a eourageous, persevering character. It 
 display?, moreover, a hero who§e miud i§ imbued » witii Chris- 
 tian sentiments, and who i§ ready to make gre.it saerifices in 
 order to secure tJio benefits of faith and Christian givilization 
 to the people? of ttie New World. He, therefore, deserves 
 a conspicuous 2 pla4je in our early history. 
 
 2. Jacques Cartier wa? a native of Saint Malo, one of the 
 ports of Bretagne'. Hi§ maritime knowledge and fine qualities 
 won for him the confiden9e of tiie Frendi kin<r, Francis I, 
 who wa§ desirous of founding colonies in America. He, tiiere' 
 fore, re9eived a commission to go in ^sCardh of new countries, 
 still unclaimed by Europe'an power§. 
 
 S. On the 20th of April, 1534, Cartier left the port of Saint 
 Malo, and set sail for America, with three small vessels and a 
 crew of sixty-one men. A favorable wind soon brought him 
 to Cape Bonavista, |n New'foiindland. He ascended northward, 
 following ^.10 ^ores U that island, and entered the Bay des 
 Chateaux, or Strait of Bellisle, \<^idh he crossed. He then 
 made hi§ way into the Gulf of St. Lawren9e, and, describing 
 m hi§ daring course through that still unexplored gulf an im- 
 mense semicircle, wTiidh permitted him to study the western 
 coasts of Newfoundland, he made himself acquainted with 
 several island?, and arrived, on the third of July, at the entrance 
 of a large bay, Vhidh he called the Bay des Ghaleurs. 
 
 j. It wa§ somewhere in that vicinity that he planted a cross, 
 thirty feet high, and bearing the inscription : Vive le Roi de 
 France! [Long ve the King of France!] Thus, the first 
 monument raided iii the name of France on the soil of America, 
 was a religious symbol, the sign of our redemption. 
 
 5. Leaving the Bay des Ghaleurs, Cartier entered the River 
 St. Lawrence, Vhidh he ascended for some sixty league?. As 
 tlie sea?on was advanced, he dared not venture further; but he 
 retraced hi? course, and set sail for France. He had toudied 
 upon Canada, and it only remained to penetrate further into 
 the country. This took place in the following year. 
 
 » Im bued', deeply tinged or « Con spic'u otSs, eagy to b^seen] 
 colored ; Impressed or penetrated. noted ; distinguiAed. 
 
■T-'*-^^! 
 
 yACQUES C ARTIER. 
 
 287 
 
 5 The happy result of Cartier'§ first voyage, gave rise to 
 the fairest hopes. Fran9i8 I wished to have the discoveries 
 already made completed a§ so ri as possible. He gave the Bre- 
 ton eaptain 4 more considerable fleet r.nd more extensive powers 
 Several gentlemen 8oli9ited ttie honor of taking part in this 
 second expedition ; and two Benedictine religious were dharged 
 with the spiritual care of the mariner§. 
 
 7. On the 19th of May, 1535, the little fleet commanded by 
 Car-tier left the port of Saint Malo, and steered for America. 
 Violent tempests dispersed the vessels, whidh only suc9eeded in 
 coming together again at the end of July, at Blanc Sablon, on 
 the Strait of Bellisle. It was from there that he set out to 
 continue the discoveries of the previous year. By the 1st of 
 September, he wa§ at the mouth of the Saguenay, one of the 
 most considerable tributaries of the River St. Lawrenge. 
 
 8. Fifteen days later, he reached the heart of wild Oanada, 
 in front of a lofty cape, projecting boldly and abruptly into 
 the river, crowned with tall tree§, and displaying on its left 
 side an Indian village named Stadaeona. This superb promon- 
 tory, afterward? called Cape Diamond, wa§ to become, under 
 the name of Quebec, a (jenter of 9ivilization, and the bulwark 
 of the Frendh power in the New World. 
 
 9. Cartier had, therefore, acquired for Fran9e immense coun- 
 tries, watered by the finest tributary of the Atlantic, and the 
 first river of the worid for navigation. He had already followed 
 the course of that great river for 750 miles. It wa§ the longest 
 voyage yet attempted by any vessel on the river§ of America. 
 And yet, he was to go still further. But he would first stop at 
 Stadaeona, a village governed by a dhief of the name of Donacona, 
 Who, from hi§ dignity, wa§ called Agohanna, that i§ to say, lord. 
 This petty barbarian king wa§ nowige alarmed by the arrival of 
 the Europeans. He gave them, on the contrary, great prwfs 
 of confideii9e, and, in token of hi§ joy, a solemn repeption. 
 
 10. Donacona stood at the head of hi§ people, on the sOiore of 
 the little river St. Croix, now St. Charieg, at the pla9e where 
 Cartier's vessels were anchored. According to barbarian eti- 
 quette, songs ^^d dan9es were the prelude ^ to the graver 9ere- 
 
 ' Pre'lude, the part Whi(<h intro- 
 duces the (^ief performance ; tiie 
 
 part vfhidh points out y^td i§ to 
 follow ; introduction. 
 
 I 
 
288 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 nionie§ about to take plu^o. The Agohanna afte ward§ ranged 
 hi§ people in good order; then, tra9ing a circle on the sand, he 
 inclosed Cartier and hi§ €omi)anion§ within it. He then de- 
 livered an oration, after whidli he eame to oflEer three young 
 children to the Frencfh captain. These gifts were accompanied 
 by approving crieg, or howl§, from all hig people. Cartier 
 eaused two swords and two large plates of briss to be brought 
 and made a pre§ent of tliem to tiie Agohanna. The savages 
 concluded this Homeric scene by songs and dan9e§. 
 
 VI. 
 12 S. JACQUES CARTIER, 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 SEPTEMBER 19fli, leaving a portion of hi§ people at Stada- 
 cona, Cartier set sail, with a single vessel, to continue 
 tlie asgent of ttie yiver. He had witli him the gentlemen and 
 hi§ dhoigest mariuer§. Everywhere, tlie spectacle of nature in 
 ber most endhanting aspect, met hi§ wondering eye§, and he 
 saw before him, a^ he took pleasure in repeating, the finest 
 country that could be seen. 
 
 2. The course of the rive-, although confined, wa§ still broad 
 and deep ; its sunken fixove^ formed but a protuberant border, 
 ridh with verdure, and so loaded with vineyards that one might 
 have thought the tree§ were planted by the haid of man. Be- 
 hind this screen of wild vineyards, stretdhed away far a§ the 
 eye could readh, gra9efully undulating plains, 'w^ere grew in 
 abundan9e the oak, the elm, and the walnut-tree. Forth from 
 the deep fdrests that s6rved to inciter them, came the natives 
 to meet the Frendhmen, greeting tiiem with a§ mudh confidcr.^e 
 and good-will a§ though they had been wont to live together. 
 
 3. At Hochelaga, more than a thousand person^ crowded to 
 meet them, bringing them presento wOiidh consisted of fi^ and 
 bread made of coarse millet. Divided into fnree groups, accord- 
 ing to the differenge of agpe and sex, men, women, and dhildren 
 executed dan9eg to express the satisfaction caused by the presence 
 of tlieir new guests. « Never did fiither," say§ Cartier, « gWe a 
 better welcome to hi§ dhildren." The ^rendh retired to their 
 
JACQUES CAkT/EH. 
 
 ves8el§ at niglitfall. 1^( 
 
 280 
 
 iigiit of those blazing pik^. makiiig the air resLnd wL V^ 
 8ong§ and ^outs of joy. re§ound with their 
 
 >*. The following day, Cartier went a^ore with all H.« 
 pal^ade formed of a triple row of stakes, formed the in^ Sp 
 
 ot ht. John and the Passion of Oin- FnrH a-f I. "^^^^^P®^ 
 looted, the savages listened iLZx^X^y:! Tl 
 aey did not understand. Thev raiil hTI ^ word whidh 
 and imitated all the oxton.al Zs " nfetv X21*" ''T' 
 P.en<*men make. This ton J;i4 Ljnf ot^ twli^^ '*"' *.' 
 .l.str,b„ted amongst «.om, .onsisTng oTl ™ :''h: I^ 
 
itoo 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 7. Cartier. afterward, liad himself conducted to the mount- 
 ain adjoining the viUagc. He wirfhed to examine and measure 
 with hig eye thiJ extent of hi§ new discoverie^. The view of 
 that favored region, of Whidh ho speaks so 6Uex\, presented itself 
 then to hi§ eyeg in all its ravi^iing beauty. He gave to the 
 mountain tiie name of Mont Royal. This name, modified into 
 that of Montreal, extended to the whole island ; and it i§ also 
 the name of the ridh and populous 9ity wTiidh has replaced tlie 
 ancient village of Ho9hcli\ga. 
 
 8. The Breton captain did not seek to go farther up the 
 river. He returned to the river St. Croix to rejoin the com- 
 panions he had left there. Tlioro it wa§ resolved to pass tlie 
 winter. How admirable wa§ the courage of this handful of 
 Frendhmen, who feared not to brave the rigor of A long win- 
 ter, twelve hundred leagues from their own country, in regions 
 unknown, amongst k savage people, restless, suspicious, and 
 having, like all barbarian^, the most ferocious instincts ! 
 
 9. It wa§ autuihn. Soon, the river wag covered with icje, and 
 the ground witli thick snow. The cold became exQcssive. To 
 the anxieties of a situation so new for the Frendh, wa§ added 
 the terror of an epidemic, whidh wa§ aftcrwnrdg known by the 
 name of " malarial fever.'* Twenty-five persons died of it, and 
 nearly all the rest of tlie crew were attacked by it. Cartier, 
 who saw no human mean§ of getting rid of sudh a scourge, 
 ordered an image of the Blessed Virgin to be fastened to a tree, 
 near the little fort wTiidli he had ere.-ted ; and, on the following 
 Sunday, all thoge who could walk, or drag themselveg along, 
 repaired to the image, singing psalmg and the Litany of Lo- 
 retto. Then, Mass wag sung in the open air for the first time, 
 amid tlie snowg of Canada, and there was a profession in honor 
 of Mary. 
 
 10. Cartier learned from the Indians the only remedy that 
 could cure big sick companions, and tlie diseage speedily disap- 
 peared. Then, the spring returned, and with it th« hope of 
 again seeing their native land. On the 16th of May, i55<i, the 
 Frendh left Stadacona, and set sail for Europe, where tliey hap- 
 pily arrived. 
 
 11. In 1541, a Frendh gentleman, de Roberval, having be- 
 come vi9eroy of New Fran9e, deputed Cartier to conduct 
 
THE SOLDlER-PEASANrS VISION. 291 
 captain sett.od tho colonista on the norfh b».ore o*" tl.n riv^r 
 
 But this first attempt at A settlement did not sueoeed C 
 
 Zl ZV ™"'"'""«1 '» «»»l" «.o u„dortokinr»b„rtt: 
 und t le Frcndli monarchy, emh„rra«,ed l,y war., and internal 
 Roubles could eivo no fl,„„gl, 1 1„ H.c coloni'lni^ "f Amcri 1 ™ 
 Cartier had to die .n Brittany without the emisolatioii of fo.^ 
 ^■eing the splendid rejults of hij great discoverie,! 
 
 VII. 
 124- THE SOLBIER.PEASANTS VISIOM.' 
 
 A LL by the broad St. Lawrence, a hundred yeai^ ago, 
 _jrx The Angelus w,? nnging from the bells of Ih'au-EeauY • 
 T*o ..aper leaned upon hi^ scythe, tte wild-bL ,ealeS if^^m ' 
 ^0 consecrated river huSied its waters and was dumb 
 ae oxen ^ at Bethlehem, knelt of their own LZ, 
 Wlule the intense of the mid-day prayer was " 
 
 Lord I 1^ J .-i 
 
 cheir 
 
 ». 
 
 good Sainfc Ann, I swear to thee, thou guami 
 Orie§ the bareheaded reaper, While tears bedow h). 
 
 For sovereign, for seignior, for tho§e in hicrh eomma. 
 Fran9e, wi^ i,er vineg and olive?, 1? i„ soo£ a pTZtland • 
 But fairer tiian lily on her ^ield i§ ftis New Wor Z o^?? ' 
 Where ttie weary serf may stand ereet, unawed by ty^ti/l 
 
 S 
 "Do thou ask the BlessM Virgin to bless our sire, H,e Kii«r 
 ro overflirow hij enemie^, bless him in evoryftdn^ *' 
 
 lo speed hi, royal banner,, crown (hem with victor, 
 ^?J'^!2J:;^»^l>tttcftyni^^ „, Hu^'g^ , 
 
 rignan soldiers m.nv „f „! ™''°"S'»''I. of Whi<(hfl,e.bove is 
 
 .firHgb4ZT""uZ:L:X' wrr,:'r'^"rv"f """-• '• 
 
 i ii 
 
^92 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER, 
 
 But, mother of all Breton^, by thy love for Mary*§ Son, 
 By Hi^t ag\iny and ilolorH, by ilisj w^juntlg on Calvary won, 
 Guard tliou New Frj«u;e from tyrants, (»h spare her vir/i^n soil 
 From the heel of the oppressor, f/om tumult and turmoil 1 " 
 
 C, 
 
 Saint Ann had heard the vetcran'§ prayer, and stood upon 
 
 the tide, 
 An aureole About her brow, and angei^ by lier side. 
 " Fear not, my son," f(he sweetly said ; " be New France true 
 
 to me, 
 And ^G ^all ever be the heme of rugged liboi ty ! " 
 T^ie vision passed, and the reaper bvnt to the cutting of the 
 
 grain * 
 The eoveubnt i§ kent ; he did >t pray in vain I 
 
 ' VIII. 
 
 125. THE CAJS'ADIAM REBELLIOjY. 
 
 THE INSURRECTION broke wit at Montreal, November 
 7th, 1837, and spread very rapidly along the right bank of 
 the river. Near Chambly, a detadhment of Englisli €avahy wa§ 
 posted. Colonel Gore, having sot out from Sorel with a body 
 of troops and some eavalry, took lii§ way to St, Hiarleg, and 
 wa§ stopped at St. Denis, on the 22d of November, by k band of 
 insurgents, most of whom wCre armed only with sticks and 
 pitdhf6rk8. The brave Dr. Nelson, who commanded them, 
 re§olutely offered battle; the tjombat lasted six hour§, and 
 ended by the defeat of the EngliiHi, who lost, in tlieir Hight, 
 S. portion of their baggage ond ammunition. 
 
 2. Some day§ after, the battle of St. C^iarle§ took pla9e. The 
 insurgents had there formed a €amp, surrounded by a feeble 
 intrendhment conipoged of fallen tree§. Colonel Wetheri.U 
 marcHied against them with three hundred soldiers and Uvo 
 pie9e5 of cannon ; he surrounded them completely before at- 
 tacking them, and so left them n alternative but to conquer 
 or die. The rebel§, war* ting both arm§ and ammunition, never- 
 tfieless defended themselve§ courageously ; but the frail in- 
 
THE CANADIAN Rpf^ELLION. 
 
 i93 
 
 trcndiniont Whic<h protected Hiern coyld pot withHtiinil the 
 artillery, and fciic camp wug earricd by ams^vM. Moa' tiiaii h 
 hundred Caniidi(in§ met tiuir death in this uf.tiuu. 
 
 3. Immediately after tiie^y* engagements, tiie district of Mont- 
 real w^^ i)la9ed under nuutiul law, whilst the iKople asseniblvd 
 in all parts of ttie country to protest .igainst tlie revOlt, and :(8- 
 8«rc England of tiieir Pdelity. l^o imjurrection wa^ (inelled 
 on the right bank of the river : it Only ronuiiru'd to put d.«vn 
 fcho insurgents on the left bank, in the County of Two Mwint- 
 alfn§, where they had ajsembled in numerous b;ind§. Hir John 
 Oolbourne mangled thero witJi two thfMi^und men and eight 
 pl090§ of eannon. 'bwit two hundred ai.d fifty (^'aniuliang, 
 commanded by tlie intrepid Dr. Ohenier, had intrendu'd theni- 
 selveg at St. Eustache, in the convent and (Oiurdli of the village, 
 rc§olved to hold w)t against the eneiny'g f()r9es, tiiough fully 
 
 .3n time§ their number. IHiero again tiiey wCre wanting in 
 a/m.^, and complained of it to their dliief. "Wait a while," 
 anciwored he, "there will be some killed, and jqu can tak. 
 tlieir musketg." 
 
 4. Coll»ourne completely surrounded the village, and hi§ 
 artillery opened a terrific fire on tlie Canadiim i)05ition5. After 
 h cannonade of two hourg, tlic Engli.<h general ordered an as- 
 sault. "Fire broke out at the same tim " sayf tiie historian 
 Garneau, "in the t-^o building§ occupied by ti>.o rebel§. Hie 
 fusillade and tiie flame§ compelled them to abandon all ex9ept 
 tiie dh6rdh, whicli wag f.oon invested, in its turn, by tiie troops 
 and by the approadhi ng fire. Dr. Chenier vainly tried to defend 
 himself there still,— the flames, rufOiing on like a torrent. fGrjed 
 him to leave it. lie then aaseinbled some of big people, jumped, 
 with them, from the windoM'g, pnd attempted to make'hig way 
 thi'Qugh the midst of tlicir assailants; but, struck by a ball, in 
 the 9en otery, he foil and expired almost instantaneously. After 
 thafcj it was but one scene oi carnage. No quarter wag given, 
 and the rest of the village was g'ven up to fire and pillage." 
 Thus the insuiTection wag entirely subdued. It only remained 
 to try the political prigonerg, with whom the jailg were filled. 
 They were tried by court-martial. Eighty-nine were condemned 
 to death ; fliirteeiL were executed, :ind forty-seven were sen- 
 tenced to transportation to the Isleg of Oceani^a, 
 
 i*^ 
 
 I 
 
 ...Si 
 
 1 
 
294 I UOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 5. But this rebellion wa§, by no mean§, eonfined to Lower 
 Canada. In ttie Western Provin9e equal discontent prevailed 
 although It w^ only a comparatively small number of the 
 people who were willing to break out in open rebellion. The 
 feader of Ae disaflfected party wa§ William Lyon Mackenzie 
 a native of Scotland, who§e avowed purpose wag to establi^ 
 an independent republic and throw off the yoke of England 
 Ui§ degign wag favored by the withdrawal of the troops from' 
 loronto to Kingston, owing to the alarming accounts from 
 the lower provin9e. De9ember 4th, 1837, a number of his 
 adherents, having, by a w^nt of con9erfced action amongst ttieir 
 leaders, prematurely assembled in open revolt, a few miles from 
 Toronto, they regolved to attack the 9ity, hoping to capture the 
 Uovernor and to take possession of a largo quantity of arms 
 left there unprotected on the departure of the troops Thev 
 remained inactive, however, till tiie fallowing day, vfh^n a flag 
 of tru9e wag sent to thera, and they were asked to state their 
 demandg. Thege being dhiefly for independen9e, were next day 
 refuged by the Goverhor, Sir Fnin9is Bond Head, who then 
 mardhed m pgrson against them at the head of about 1,000 
 volunteerg. 
 
 6 The engagement wag ^ort and de9isive. Mackenzie's 
 followerg, wholly defi9ient, ag may be suppoged, in training 
 and dis9ipline, were routed with a loss of about thirty men 
 Thfcir leader escaped to Buffalo and then9e to Navy Island in 
 ^e Niagai-a River, h little above the Fallg. l^ere he fortified 
 hig pogit, II with cannon taken, it wag said, from Araorican 
 forts, and held hig ground for some time. Of the considerable 
 for9e >vhidi he suc9eeded in collecting there, the greater num- 
 ber were Americang, who honestly believed that the Canadians 
 were fighting the battle of freedom. Of tiiege, Van Rensselaer 
 was the most prominent. 
 
 7. At Prescott, another and more obstinate stand was made 
 by the rebelg under Von Schulfcs, a Poli^ exile. They estab- 
 Iished themselveg in a stone windmill situated on A point pro- 
 jocting into tiie St. Lawrcn9e. This structure, being eighty 
 feet high, of a 9ir€ular form, and with wallg four feet thick 
 wag qmte h fortress in itself, and registed all the Efforts of the 
 -_., ._,,j «ri..ii ocTCiiii |/xucus 01 oruiiaiiue were 
 
THE CANADIAN REBELLION. 
 
 295 
 
 down the river, with a detadiment of the Royal Artillery and 
 the 83d Regiment of Infantry. Within half an hour after the 
 bombardment €ommen9ed, a flag of tru9c wa§ hung out from 
 a window of the windmill. The firing immediately 9t'a8ed, 
 and the insurgents, to the number of 110, mardhed out, surren- 
 dering at discretion, "^ey had lost over forty men, and the 
 besieging party thirteen. Tlius ended the affair of Windmill 
 Point, near Pres€ott. 
 
 8. At Windgor, in tiie vi9inity of Detroit, and also at Sand- 
 wich, further attempts were made to secure Canadian jndepend- 
 en9e. At Windsor, the town wag taken by the insurgents, about 
 450 strong, a steamer wa§ biirned and two men murdered. At 
 Sandwidli, Colonel Prin9e, with a i)arty of militia, numbering 
 187, meeting a band of the rebels on their way to attack tiie 
 town, fell upon tiiem so vigorously that they were entirely 
 defeated with a loss of twenty-one men killed and four made 
 prisoners. The§e last were no sooner brought to Colonel 
 Prin9e'8 camp than they were executed by hi§ orderg. Most oi 
 the insurgents 8U€9eeded in escaping acrdss the river, but they 
 suffered so severely in doing so that nineteen of them were 
 found on tiie way, frozen to death around the ember§ of a fire. 
 
 9. Meanwhile, Mackenzie and hi§ ffillOwerg on Navy Island 
 had employed a small steamer called the " Caroline " to furni.^ 
 tiiem with supplie§ from the New York ^ore. Colonel, aftcr- 
 ward§ Sir Allan McNab, a gallant offi9er in command of the 
 government for9es on the Canadian s^ore, seeing the ne9es8ity 
 of capturing this boat, deputed Lieutenant Drew, of the Royal 
 Navy, to make the attempt. That ofla9er, in order to obey hi§ 
 order§, wa§ obliged to f61l6w the " Caroline " to the American 
 side of tiie river, where he captured her. The current wa§ so 
 strong, however, that he found it impossible to tow the boat 
 over to tlie Canadian side. In order to prevent her from fall- 
 ing again into the hand§ of the insurgents, Drew wa§ f6r9ed 
 to set her on fire, and sent her, in flame§, over the great Fallg. 
 
 10. l^is violation of American water§ came near being the 
 cause of war between the United States and Canada, or rather 
 Great Britain, and it wa§ only after months of negotiation 
 that the affair wa§ amicably settled. The struggle wa§ main- 
 tained by the disaffected C»tt»diang and their American allieg 
 
I 
 
 296 DOMFNION FOURTH READER. 
 
 during the entire winter. At different points alor»g the river 
 and the frontier hnc attempts wore made against tiic Briti^ 
 auflionty, but, in Jv^ry instan9e, they proved uns.,9ees8ful 
 and this beeaus^, the vast majority of tiio i>ooplc, being loyal 
 to the government, not only kept steadily aloof fro.n 4e 
 msurgentH, but rendered effective aid in putting them down 
 
 n. Disaster and defeat at lengfli disheartened tfie rebels and 
 ^ter numerous arrests had been made amongst tiic leadens' nnO 
 ttie execution of several of tiie most prominent, iAiey gave u,; 
 m despair their prdjeet of freeing Canada from EngliSi rule 
 and quiet wa§ gradually restored in both provinces It had 
 taken nearly two years to put down a rebellion wliidh, at one 
 time, had assumed alarming proportion?, not so mudh from the 
 extent of Canadian disaffection a§ the active and moral support 
 given the rebelg by sympathi>5er§, in the neighboring republic. 
 
 IX. 
 W6\ DOMimOJV OF CAJVADA, 
 
 -pHE SUPPRESSION of t^e rebellion in the two prov- 
 X in9e§ having been accomplisOied, the Engli^ Govern- 
 ment turned its attention to tiie project of a union of the two 
 Canadag, ^t proposed by Lord Durham, when Governor- 
 General ms measure wag strenuously i opposed by Lower 
 Canada for the reason that the affairg of tiiat province were in 
 a more prosperous condition tiian tlio§e of ^q sister province 
 and that her debt ivag nearly all paid off, wliile Upper Canada 
 owed over a million of dollarg. 
 
 !' !P^^ F"'"''' "^ • ^ *^'^*^^'' obnoxious 2 to the Frendli Canadian 
 and Catholic population of Lower Canada, inastnudli as it gave 
 ttie non-Catholic and Englisli-speaking population of the Upper 
 Provmge wliat wa§ considered an unfair advantage over tiiem 
 In vain did the Catholic clergy and people of Lower Canada 
 petition and earnestly protest against the proposed Union The 
 measure wag carried in the Parliament of both provin9es, dhicfly 
 through the influen9e and exertiong of tlie Governor-General 
 
 > StrSn'uously, in an epgerly 
 pfcsBing or urgeul manner. 
 
 « Obn»x'ious, blameworthy : of. 
 tensive ; hateful. 
 
DOMimON OF CANADA. 
 
 297 
 
 sent out from England for that purpose, the Right Honorable 
 Oharleg Poulett Thompson, better known a§ Lord Sydenham. 
 
 3. On the 23d of July, 1840, tiic Act of Union re9eived the 
 royal sanction, but wa§ not carried out until the 10th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1841. This Act, however, introdu9ed into the Constitu- 
 tion of Canada Avhat i§ called responsible government, that i§ 
 to say, one €()nip().5ed of men selected from the T^egislature and 
 aeeountublo tj the Assembly for their official acts, and for the 
 advige given by tiiem to the Governor in their capacity of min- 
 istcrg. It also recognized the right of the deputieg of tiie 
 people to control the public revenue and expenditure. This 
 wa§, undoubtedly, a great advantage gained by the people, and 
 it dates from the Act of Union of 1840. 
 
 4. 1l\\\& Union of the Provin9o§ lasted for twenty-seven year§, 
 that i.2 to say, from 1840 till 1867. Kingston became the new 
 capital of United Canada. The seat of government wag, how- 
 ever, removed to Montreal in 1844, and remained there till after 
 the burning of the Parliament House by k mob in 1849, wlien 
 it wag removed to Toronto and, afterwardg, to Quebec, the 
 Parliament to assemble, alternately, 6v6ry four yearg, in thege 
 two 9itie§. The Oovc-nor-General of that day wag Lord Elgin, 
 who first propoged the construction of an Intercolonial Rail- 
 road, with a view to connect Canada with the lower, or mari- 
 time* provin9eg. 
 
 5. Tliis union of the two Canadag wag followed, in 1867, by 
 the confederation of the provin9eg of Ontario and Quebec, 
 formerly Upper and Lower Canadji, New Brungwick, and 
 Nova Scotia, under the new title of the Dominion of Canada. 
 The seat of government wag removed to Ottawa, where mag- 
 nifi9ont buildingg w6re erected for the Parliament and ttie gov- 
 ernment offi9eg. In 1870, the North-west Territory and Mani- 
 toba,— in 1871, Briti^ Columbia, and in 1873, Prin9e Edward 
 Island, joined the Confederation of the Briti^ Provin9eg of 
 Nortli America. New'foundland ig not yet included in the 
 Dominion. 
 
 6. When the Dominion of Canada wag founded. Lord Monk 
 wag Governor- Genej-al. That nobleman wag suc9eeded in the 
 
 ' Saaritime, bordering on, or with flxe ocean by site, interest, or 
 situated near the sea ; 'eonne€ted power. 
 
298 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 government by the Earl of J:>uflferin, who proved himself in 
 6v^ry way qualified for ttie dnerous ^ dutieg of hi§ high offi9e. By 
 hi§ w:§e and prudent administration of publie aflfair§, hi§ kind- 
 ness and affability,2 under all 9ir€um8tan9e§, and hi§ strict im- 
 partiality towardg all creeds and partie§, Lord Dufferin endeared 
 himself to all the people of the Dominion. 
 
 7. The enlightened and benefi9ent ^ poli9y uniformly pursued 
 by Lord Dufferin entitle him to be considered a§ one of the 
 best, if not the very best, vi9eroy who ha§ yet ruled Canada for 
 the Sovereign of Great Britain. During the six yearg of big 
 administration, pea9e and contentment reigned amongst all 
 classes throughout the whole extent of the Dominion. Wher- 
 ever Lord Duflferin and hi§ no lc38 popular wife, the Countess 
 of Dufferin, made their appearan9e, it wag tiie signal for a gen- 
 eral ovation ■* on the part of the people. 
 
 8. But, in 1878, Lord Dufferin wag recalled, and the Mar- 
 quis of Lome, gldegt son of the Duke of Argyle, and son-in-law 
 of Queen Victoria,, wag appointed to su€9eed him. The Mar- 
 quis arrived in Quebec in November, 1878, accompanied by hig 
 wife, Prin9ess LQuige. They w6re (5vdrywliere greeted v/ith 
 enthugiagm. The Marquis of Lome gave entire satisfaction in 
 the governme'>t of the Dominion, and proved himself be a6stly 
 degirous of promoting the best interests of the country, and 
 the happiness and well-being of the people, without regard to 
 politics or religion. 
 
 9. In 1879, a new Tariff, on the Protective Poli9y, that ig 
 to say, for the protection of Home Manufactureg, came into 
 operation. This Tariff seemg to have had a favorable effect on 
 the trade and manufactureg of the Dominion. It formed the 
 prin9ipal event of the administration of Loni Lome. 
 
 10. In 1883, the Marquis of Lome being recalled, he was 
 su€9eeded by Hig Ex9ellen9y the Marquis of Langdowne,' 
 whoge government so far, appearg to be quite satisfactory to the 
 
 'On'erous, oppressive; burden- " Bengf 'i9ent, doing good; pro- 
 
 some; weansome. 
 
 * Affabnitj^, eagy of talk ; readi 
 nefis to -eonveree ; polite In re(;eiv- 
 ing otherf and in «onversing with 
 
 moting a€ts of dharity and kind- 
 ness. 
 
 * Ova'tlon, an expression of pop- 
 ular favor ; an offering of tiie peo- 
 ple to a pubii* favorite, 
 
DOMINION OF CANADA, 
 
 299 
 
 ptuple of the Dominion. Lord Lan5downe seem? anxious to 
 pursue the same mild and €on9iliatory line of poli9y vQAdh 
 proved so sue9essful under the two previous vi9eroy§. 
 
 11. The growOi of the country in material wealth— the vast 
 public works, sudh a§ mih-oadg and €anal§, undertaken and 
 su€9e8sfully carried out during the last ten or fifteen year§, i§ 
 altogetiier remarkable, and seem to justify the brightest hopes 
 for the future prosperity of this young but already floiiri^ing 
 nation. Indeed, the progress of the country within the time 
 spe9ified ha§ been rapid and, at the same time, steady and 
 continuous. 
 
 12. Chief amongst the great works to Whidi Canadian enter- 
 pri§o ha§ given rise i§ the Canadian Pa9ific Railroad. Its 
 object i§ to connect the Atlantic with ttie Pa9ifi€ Ocean by 
 a land r«ute running quite across the North American conti- 
 nent. This magnifi9ent enterprise i§ the natural outgrowth of 
 the Federal Union of the Briti^ American provin9e§. 
 
 IS. The preliminary survey for the great railroad wa§ com- 
 men9ed in 1871. In 1872 the first dharter wa§ granted. ' Being 
 from its very inauguration regarded a§ a national undertaking, 
 the first intention wa§ liiat it i^ould be carried on solely by 
 the government. Aft«r a i^ort time, however, this plan wa§ 
 abandoned, and it wa§ de9ided that ttie work ^ould be left to 
 private ent«rpri§e. 
 
 H. In 1880, the pregent company, of vfhidh Sir George 
 Stephen i§ Pre§ident, undertook the completion of the railroad, 
 by contract with the government, binding themselve§ to have 
 the entire line fini^ed by 1891. Happily, however, the enter- 
 prige was completed during the summer of 1886. The Cana- 
 dian Government and Parliament have all along manifested 
 the greatest interest in the stupendous project, and the Queen 
 herself ha§ been pleaded to testify her high appreciution of its 
 vast importan9e by conferring a title on the most prominent 
 member of the company, its pregident. 
 
soo 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH HEADER. 
 
 SECTION XXXI. 
 
 m. THE DEAD. 
 
 REVERENCE for the dead is now, a§ it ha§ been in jill 
 the Christian past, one of the distingui^ing marks of 
 9ivilized nations. Even amongst the pagan people.5 of the 
 elder world, the Egyptian^, tiie Greeks, the Romany, the dead 
 were invested with a saered eharaeter, and their mortal remain^ 
 were treated with all imaginable respect. The affection of 
 friend§ and relative§ snrvived the stroke of death, and all man- 
 ner of ingenious devi9e§ were re§orted to in order to pre§erve 
 from destruction even the frail tenement of clay that had oncje 
 been animated by k living soul. 
 
 ^. This fond remembranQe of the dead wa§ the natural 
 instinct of human affection ; but how mudi more high and 
 pure and holy i.^ the memory of the dead amongst Christian^ ? 
 It i§ not alone a§ fellow-beings who onge lived and moved upon 
 the earth, played their several parts in Life's great drama » and 
 who are gone forever from mortal sight, that we remember oiir 
 departed one§. No, it i§ rather a§ our brethren in Christ--a§ 
 ^dring with us in the pri9eless boon of redemption— purified 
 and ennobled by the same silcraments," and destined to dwell 
 witii us for ever in the home of blessed spirits beyond the 
 starry sky. 
 
 3. What can be more impressive, more soothing to the s6r- 
 row-worn heart, than a vigit to a Catholic 9emetery, ^ffh&l\ tlio 
 early sun^ine gildg the graveg, or w^en the gray mists of even- 
 ing are beginning to en^roud the toudiing memorial^ of the 
 dead, gleaming \\^ite and ghost-like through the gathering 
 gloom, lending a softer, tenderer gra9e to all arMind ? There 
 we behold, indeed, a 9ity— a 9ity of silen9e and of pea9e un- 
 broken, Where the multitude of quiet sleeper§ are forever at 
 
 ' Dra'ma (or dra'mft), h story 
 Whidi i§ a€ted, not related ; k num- 
 ber of -eonneeted events ending in 
 some in'terestinff or striking result, 
 
 'S&c'raments, fhingg 8a€red ; 
 
 the seven sa«rampnts of the Churdh 
 are Bapti§m, Penancje, Holy Eu- 
 «hari8t, Confirmation, Holy Or- 
 ders. MatTimony. aix' E^xtrenife 
 Un€tion, 
 
THE DEAD. 
 
 301 
 
 rest, eadh one reposing ia tiie narrow house of death, under ,, 
 the ^adow of that €r6s8 beneath w^hidh they fought the good 
 fight — that cross Whidh they loved and honored in the dayg of 
 their earthly pilgrimage ! 
 
 ^. How hopeful, how helpful i§ all that meets the eye 1 The 
 saving sign of man^§ redemption, raiged aloft like the brazen 
 serpent in the degert ; the toudhing prAyer for " the parted 
 soul " who§e mortal body moulderg beneath ; the sweet fa9e of 
 Mary, the Immaculate Mother ; the venerable form of the 
 foster-father of Jesus ; the Angel pointing heavenward ; the 
 emblematic figure of Faith, or Hope, or Charity, sculptured on 
 the sepul'chral monuments around : all speak of the sweet hope 
 of a blessed regurrection, of an eternal re-union with the dead 
 and gone dhildr^n of the Christian family. 
 
 6. In the Catholic 9emetery th6re i§ nothing sad, nothing 
 dreary. There, tiie darkness of desolation ha§ no pla9e or 
 part. Winter ma}' spread her snowy pall over the landscape, 
 and shroud tiie tree§ that overhang the grave§ and ^ade tiie 
 silent alley§ — yot spring, smiling spring — the spring of ever- 
 blooming Hope re5gn§ through all the Changing sea§on§, in that 
 ciilm abode of the buried dead. " May they rest in pea9e " 
 pray all the stately monuments and all ttie humble head-stones 
 that keep watdi over the dead, and the grand " Amen ! " goe§ 
 up from year to year a§ the living come and go amcngst the 
 tombg, and kneel beside the grave§. 
 
 G. The Deiul! our Dead! ^^'^lat a world of solemn beauty, of 
 mournful sweetntss lie§ hiddm in the words ! What tender 
 memories, w^at toudliiitg associutiong hover like angel-form§ 
 around them, \diile memory conjureg * up from the buried yearg 
 tlie fa^cg on9e so dear and so familiar, on eai^th seen no more, 
 and recallg the tone§ of well-loved v(H9e§, silent now forever! 
 Oh, how consoling i^ th(3 blessed remembran90 tliat the dear 
 eyc§ closed in the pea9e of God, that tiie latest a€9ents of tlio§e 
 well-remembered voi9e§ were of prayer and love and hope ! 
 
 7. "Why are the on9e-loved dead forgotten soon ? Tiieir 
 path no more i§ intertwined with ours " in the daily walks of 
 earthly life, yet their memory i§ over with us in all our hoj^es 
 
 into being without reason, or by k pliantom or a story. 
 
 liiil 
 
sot 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 71 ^'""^^'^'m and our sdrrSwg. Our dead are never for- 
 gotten. Our fondest affeetiong are buried with them. Our 
 prayerg go up unceasingly for them to tiie throne of the Most 
 High. They have a s^are in all the good works ^diitfh l.v 
 G6d g grace we are enabled to perform. Nay, tiie very trials 
 and suffering? of o.ir daily life are made available for them 
 
 aLnife "^ ^''' ^^''' '^^'"'^^'^ ^"^ refre^ment in ^, 
 
 8. No, wir dead are not forgotten. They are ever with us 
 
 ir. spirit, and the thought of them-gone before us into the 
 
 everlasting mansions-resting forever in the bosom of their 
 
 aw^tii^ ttie.r deliverance-that thought serveg to dheer us on 
 
 hm r ^% I '"^ P'^"'^ "* ^•^'' ^'"g''t^"ing many a lonely 
 hour tiiat, ot^erwi§e, were dark and dreary. Our dead are 
 
 more with us than our living, and we may trqly say, witli 
 sweet Adelaide Procter, w J "J', wiwi 
 
 « One by bne life rob§ us of our treasure^ ; 
 Nothing i§ our own except our Dead." 
 
 .9. The thdught that wo ean still help them by our prAyers 
 and suffrage? i§ a never-failing source of eomfort to hearts 
 oppressed wi^ s6rr6w for their loss. All the day long and 
 Utevi, too m the still watdhe§ of the night, ^^^en darkness, like 
 a funeral pall, enshroud? the sleeping Oarth, the prdyer of 
 ^ving hearts goe§ up like incense to the highest H6av.n, and 
 tti^iCe descend? in refre^ing dew on the soul? of tiie departed, 
 It t^ey are still numbered amongst the "spirits in pri?0D," of 
 whom St. Peter speaks in one of his Epistle?. 
 
 10 While the star? look down on tfie quiet grave? out in tlie 
 .'l -^ ^''^■^^^' a^gel eye? are watdhing wh^re the prAyer 
 ot taith ascend? from s6rr6wing hearts fhrgugh the ealm even 
 11^ hour?, and the deep stillnc^ss of the- solemn midnight, 
 gattiering all tiie petitions of the praying multitude for the 
 faithful departed, and offering tiiem up in the golden censer, 
 Whidh St. John saw of old in hi? wondrous vision, to Him who 
 sits forever on the Throne, the Lamb for sinner? slain, tlie 
 ^..^jg^ vfi uxtc itviin' and uie aeaa. 
 
\ 
 
 ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. 303 
 
 11. 
 128. ELEGY IJV A COUNTRY CHURCH 
 
 YARD. 
 
 THE CURFEW 1 toll§ the knell of parting day, 
 The lowing herd wind§ slowly o'er the lea, 
 The plowman homeward plod§ hi§ weary way, 
 And Ieave§ the world to darkness and to me. 
 
 ' Our'few, the evenii^ bell, so 
 «alled from the evening bell Laving 
 been the signal to put out fire on 
 the hearth and remain within 
 
 rl<vnw3 IMi^ n_„«4.:«^ ««.„_ — :_ 
 
 the middle ageg, wa§ introduijed 
 
 iu England by William the Con- 
 queror, ag a measure of police. 
 T <e evening bell and prayer bell, 
 still tolled at stated hoarg in some 
 
 j'iEti,c-5, uiivtuutfitniij- iiau tucii' uri 
 
 gin in the «urfew. 
 
304 
 
 DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 2. Now fade§ the glimmen'ng landseaiK) on Hr. sighi, 
 
 And all tho air A solemn stillness liold§. 
 Save Vhero the beetle Wheels hi§ droning flight. 
 And drowgy tinklings lull' the distant fold§; ' 
 
 3. Save that from ydnder ivy-mantled tower 
 
 The moping owl d6e§ to tiie moon t-omplain 
 Of sudh /i§, wrandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
 4. Beneath tho§e rugged elm§, that yew-tree'g ^ade. 
 
 Where heave§ the turf in many k moldering heap, 
 Ea. a in hi§ narrow 9ell forever laid, 
 The Hide forefather? of the hamlet » sleep. 
 
 6. The breezy eall of iri9ense-breathing morn, 
 
 The swalldw twittering from the straw-built ^led, 
 The €ock's tOirill elarion 2 or the echoing horn, 
 No more ^laJl rouge them from their lowly l)pd. 
 
 6. For them no more ttie blazing heilrth i^all bArn, 
 
 Or bu§y housewife ply her evening care ; 
 No Children run to lisp ttieir sire'§ retftrn. 
 Or elimb his knee§, the envied kiss to ^are. 
 
 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield. 
 
 Their furrow 6ft the stubborn glebe 3 has broke: 
 How jdeund * did they drive their team afield ! 
 How bowed tlie wood? beneath thoir sturdy stroke! 
 
 8. Let not Ambitioki mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joy§, and destiny obsenre;* 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with u disdainful smile, 
 
 ^ The i^iort and simple annals of the Poor. 
 
 ' HSmlet, a gmall village ; & lit 
 tie cluster of hougeg in fee country. 
 
 '■' OlSr'ion, & kind of trumpet 
 having fi, clear, Arill note— here 
 u§ed for the -cock's crow. 
 
 3 CtlaViA <..,, 
 
 ^fuuuu ; sod. 
 
 * J8c' und, sportive ; merry ; 
 very lively. 
 
 * Ob scure', darkened ; covered 
 over ; not well lighted ; humble ; 
 retired ; unknown. 
 
ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. SOti 
 
 !K The boast of heraldry * t!io nftmp of power, 
 
 And all that beauty, all tfiat weulfh o'er gave, 
 Await alike tlie inevitable* hour— 
 Tho path§ of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
 JO. Nor you, yo proud, impute to thege the fault. 
 If Memory d er their tomb no trophieg * raige, 
 Where, fhrftugh tho Idng-drawu aisle and fretted vault, 
 Tho pealing anthem * swellg tho note of praige. 
 
 11. Can stSried urn, or animated' bust. 
 
 Back to its mansion €all the flieetirtg breath ? 
 Can Ilonor'g voi^ i provoke tho silent dust, 
 Or Flattery soothe tho dull eold ear of Death ? 
 
 12. Perhaps in this neglected spot i§ laid 
 
 Some heart on9e pregnant with 9elestial" fire; 
 Handg that tho rod of empire might have Ewayed, 
 Or waked to ecstasy' the living lyre.^ 
 
 13. But Knowledge to their eyeg her ample page, 
 
 Ridh with the spoilg of time, did ne'er unroll ; 
 Chill Penury ^ repressed their noble rage. 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
 14. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, ^'^ 
 
 The dark, unf athomed caveg of ocean bear ; 
 
 * HSr'aM r^, tho art or office of 
 one wlic form§, orderg, and «on- 
 du«t8 publi* pro<;essiong, <;eremo- 
 nleg at royal marriagog, etc.; the 
 art or practice of r6€ordiDg Hie 
 regular descent of a person or fam- 
 ily from an ancestor; also, of the 
 armg of the nobility and gentry. 
 
 * InSv'itable, admitting of no 
 evasion or es«apo ; not to be avoided. 
 
 * Tro'phies, thingg taken and 
 pregerved ag reminderg of victory ; 
 ag arrag, flagg, and Hhe like. 
 
 * An'Chem, a hymn sung in alter- 
 nate parts ; a 
 
 
 adapted to passagcg from the Bible, 
 
 ° An'imated, full of Mfe or spirit ; 
 f(howing great spirit or liveliness ; 
 vigorous. 
 
 ^ Celestial (se lest'yal), belong- 
 ing or relating to the spiritual ; 
 heavenly. 
 
 ' Ec'sta sy, very great and over- 
 mastering joy ; the greatest de- 
 light. 
 
 " Ii;9're, & stringcid instrument of 
 music ; a kind of harp in general 
 use among the ancients to accom- 
 pany poetry, 
 
 8 PSn'u rjf-, poverty ; want. 
 
 10 Oa rsns'. clear and calm ; not 
 ruffled or clouded ; fair ; bright 
 
I 
 
 sals DOMINION FOURTH READER. 
 
 Full mimy k flowor i§ horn to bhirfli unseen, 
 And waato its swoetnoHS on tho degort air. 
 
 m. Sonio villa^ Hampden,* that, with dJluntleBs' breast, 
 Tho Httlo tyrant 8 of lii^ fu'ldg withstood ; 
 Some mute, inglorious Milton < hero may rest, 
 Somo Cromwell/ guiRloss o.r hij country'^ blood. 
 
 liK Tho applause of listening senatos to command, 
 Tho threats of pain and ryin to despiije, 
 To scatter plenty O'er a smiling land, 
 And read their history in a nation'? eye?. 
 
 n. Their lot forbfttlo : nor 9ir€urn scribed « Alone 
 
 Their growing virtuo§, but their erimeg confined ; 
 Forb&do to wade through slaughter to A throne, 
 And shut tiio gates of mer^y on mankind • 
 
 18. Tlie stniggliiig pang§ of /'onscious TryOi to hide, 
 
 To 'luencfli tlio blu^ie§ of ingenuous' Shatne, 
 Or heaj) tiie ^irino of Luxury 8 and Pride 
 With in9enso kindled at the Mu§e's» flame. 
 
 19. Far from the madding crowd'? ignoble ^ strife, 
 
 Their sober wi^e§ never learned to stray; 
 
 • John Hampden, an Engli^ 
 statesman and patriot, born a^ Lon- 
 don in 1594 : mortally WQunded in 
 an affair with Prinijo Rupert, June 
 18, 1643. 
 
 •DSuntaess, not to bt diecked 
 by fear of danger ; fearless ; bold. 
 
 « Ty'rant, one w' r rj^y s wholly ; 
 one who ruleg haraniv, < r +, ntrary 
 to law ; a «njel r .v-\ 
 
 * John Milton, tno i^ngli^ poet, 
 one of tho greatest and most noted 
 of all poets, wag born in 1608, and 
 died Nov. 8, 1675. 
 
 ^ Oliver Oram'well, Lord Pro- 
 tector and virtually kinff of Great 
 n»u»:» x-_— . .f «^ 
 
 and died Sept. 8d, 1659. 
 
 " Otr'cumscribed, Aut within a 
 narrow limit ; bounded; €onfined. 
 
 ' IngSn'uoiifl, noble ; free-born ; 
 out-spoken anc^ truthful. 
 
 « Luxury (lak'sliQ ri), too free 
 a use of rare and «ostly tliingg ; 
 cOiiefly of food and liquorg, though 
 i+ ul«o relates to «ostly dress, horseg. 
 etc. ; \(Vhatever delights the senseg ; 
 a dainty. 
 
 « Muse, one of ttie nine fabled 
 goddesseg who pregido -ver learn- 
 ing, art, and science. 
 
 " IgnoTjle, of low birth or Tam- 
 ily; not noble ; mean. 
 
ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD, S07 
 
 Along the eool scquewtored * vale of life 
 'JHioy kept the noi^oleas tenor' of ttioir way. 
 
 ^. Yet even t}ie§e bone§ from iuHult to proteet, 
 Some frail memorial ' Btill erected nigb, 
 With uncQU^h* rhyme^ anu h^mpeleaN 8€iilpture decked, 
 Imploro-j the passiitg tribute" of & sigh. 
 
 21, Their name, tlieir yoar§, spelt by the unlettered M uge, 
 
 The pla9o of fame and eleg}"^ • 8vip[)ly ; 
 
 And many A, holy text Around ;ilio 8trew§, 
 
 That teodh the rustic mdralist to die. 
 
 22. For who, to dumb Forgetfulnees A prey. 
 
 This pleading, anxious being e'er resigned, 
 Left tlio warm pre9i nets' of the dheerful day, 
 Nor east one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
 2S. On some fond breast the parting soul reliej, 
 Some pious drops the €lo§ing eye require? ; 
 Even from tlie tomb the voi90 of Nature erieg, 
 Even in our a^e§ live their wonted ^ fire§. 
 
 2Jf. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead, 
 Dost in the§e lineg their artless tale relate, 
 If dhanQe, by lonely Contemplation led. 
 Some kindred spirit ^hall inquire thy fate — 
 
 25. Haply some hSary-headed swain ' may say, 
 
 " Oft have vo seen him, at the peep of dawn. 
 Bruising with hasty steps the dew§ Awiiy, 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 
 
 ' Sequ^s'tered, taken from or sei 
 asido from ; withdrawn or retired. 
 
 ' TSn'or, stamp ; «haracter ; drift. 
 
 ^ Memo'rial, any thing Whidh 
 serveg to keep something else in 
 mind ; memento ; monument. 
 
 * Un cQufh', not usual ; strange : 
 odd ; «lum§y. 
 
 - Trxb'utc, BuiiiCuiin^ givcu to 
 ^ow services received, or a? What 
 
 ig due or de§erved. 
 
 *' Ei'egy, a sad poem ; a song re- 
 lating to a funeral or some «au§e 
 of sorrow. 
 
 '' Pre'oinctB, limits or boundg. 
 
 " Wonted (wiint'ed),a««ustomed; 
 usual. 
 
 * Swain, a young man living in 
 liic -country ', & -couniryHiaQ ] a 
 «ountry lover. 
 
SOS DOMINION FOURTH READ.hR. 
 
 26. " There at the foot of yonder nodding beedh. 
 
 That wreathog its old fantastic » rol)ts so high, 
 Hi§ listless length at noontide would he stretdh,' 
 And pore upon the bro'ok that babble§ by, 
 
 27. "Hard by yon wood, now smilii>g a§ in scorn. 
 
 Muttering his wayward fan9ie§, he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, wofiil-wan, like one forlorn, 
 Or erazed with eare, or crossed in hopeless love. 
 
 28. "One morn I missed him on the- 'customed hill, 
 
 Along the heath, and near lii§ favorite tree; 
 Anotlier came ; nor yet beside the rill, 
 Nor up tiie lawn, nor at the wood wa§ he : 
 
 29. "The next, with dirges due, in sad array. 
 
 Slow thrgugh tiie caiurcOi-way path we saw him borne 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) tiie lay 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon agM th6rn." 
 
 THE EPITAPH.' 
 
 Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth, 
 A YOUTH TO Fortune and to Fame unknown: 
 
 Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 
 And Melancholy marked him for her own. 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
 
 He gave to Misery— all he had- a tear. 
 
 He gained from Heaven ('twas all hk wished) a friend. 
 
 No further seek his merits to disclose. 
 
 Or draw his frailties from th .ir dread abode, 
 
 (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
 » PantSs'tic, faiKjiful or unreal ; honor or in memory of the dead ■ 
 
 not regular ; wild. a ^ovi descriptive 8enten(je in proge 
 
 *.p 1 taph, something engraved or verse, fonned as if to be inscribed 
 
 on a monument or tombstone, to on a monument. 
 
INDEX TO NOTES. 
 
 The Figures refer to Pages where the Words are to be Found. 
 
 .l'»'"7/, 259. 
 
 Abode, 262. 
 
 Accidint, 117. 
 
 Acclaim, 135. 
 
 Accommodate^ 66. 
 
 Accosted, ais. 
 
 Accumulated, 74. 
 
 Adjutant, 85. 
 
 Admirable, 149. 
 
 Adversary, 75. 
 
 Affability, 298. 
 
 Affectation, 121. 
 
 Affectionate, 53. 
 
 Affliction, 47. 
 
 Again, 68. 
 
 Against, 68. 
 
 Aghast, 187. 
 
 Agreeable, 133. 
 
 Aisles, 107, 124. 
 
 Alludes, 77. 
 
 Alluded, 80. 
 
 Alms, 121. 
 Alms- house, 59. 
 Aloof, 256. 
 Alow, 256. 
 Amain, 185. 
 Amazement, 75. 
 ^ mbition, 49. 
 Ambulance, 237. 
 /I nimated, 305. 
 AnjoH, 187. 
 Annoyed, 107. 
 Antelope, 90, 228. 
 Anthem, 305. 
 Antic, 126. 
 Anticipation, 228. 
 Apocalypse, 74. 
 Apparently, 53. 
 Appreciate, 207. 
 Approbation, 121. 
 Architectural, 87. 
 Arena, 264. 
 Arid, 194. 
 
 Arranging, 48. 
 Arsenal, 267. 
 Artisan, 87. 
 Artist, 142. 
 Ascertain, 149. 
 Assuaged, 194. 
 Assured, 203. 
 A ur iliac, 58. 
 Austere, 195. 
 Avalanche, loi, 
 ^j/, 71. 
 Azure, 244. 
 
 Italcony, 67. 
 
 Banishment, 92. 
 
 Bards, 47. 
 
 Barefoot, 86. 
 
 Barfleur, 188. 
 
 /?«>, 256. 
 
 Bazaar, 94. 
 
 /?far, 58. 
 
 Z?*^«, 78, 96. 
 
 Bedight, 208. 
 
 Begirt, 182. 
 
 Beneath, 71. 
 
 Benefactress, 71. 
 
 Beneficent, 298. 
 Bengal, 85. 
 Besto^ved, 175. 
 Bewildered, 52. 
 Bleak, 55, 61, 271. 
 Blenheim, 104. 
 Blight, 116. 
 Blissful, 144. 
 Board, 223. 
 Bomb-proof, 105. 
 Boon, 154, 182. 
 Boulevard, 283. 
 Brawny, an. 
 Hriefly, 218. 
 Brood, 210. 
 
 ^//ir/'?, 179- 
 Butcher, 190. 
 
 Cabinet, 171. 
 Cairo, 96. 
 Calamity, 214. 
 California, 193, 
 Callow, 311. 
 Canova, 141. 
 Capacity, 120. 
 Capricious, 251. 
 Carar'an, 227. 
 Cardinal-floiver, 145 
 Carnage, 236. 
 Castanet, 84. 
 Castigation, 167. 
 Cataract, 231. 
 Catechumen, 82. 
 Celestial, 65, 168, 344, 
 
 305- 
 Chalice, 200. 
 Chapel, 151. 
 Champion, 74. 
 Chandelier, 131. 
 Chant, 224. 
 Characteristic. 166. 
 Check, 203. 
 Chivalry, 180. 
 Choicest, 131. 
 Chosen City of Mary, 
 
 274. 
 Chrysalis, 112. 
 Circumscribed, 306. 
 Circumstance, 67. 
 Clangor, 166. 
 Clarion, 304. 
 Clarkson St an f el J, 
 
 281. 
 Clever, 138. 
 Colorado, 73. 
 Commendation, 119. 
 Common, 135. 
 Commoner, 190. 
 Communion, 47. 
 Companions, 217. 
 Compelled, 66. 
 
 ao9 
 
 Compensate, 213. 
 Complex, 88. 
 Comprehend, 264. 
 Concentrates, 164. 
 Concluded, 128. 
 Confirmed, 75. 
 Confounded, 215. 
 Confusion, 145. 
 Congratulate, 141. 
 Conjure up, 301. 
 Consecrate, 234. 
 Consequential, 166. 
 Conspicuous, 274, 286. 
 Consul, 89. 
 Contemplate, 74. 
 Contend, 164. 
 Continuous, 230. 
 Conversation, 53. 
 Conviction, 48. 
 Gsi/je, 108. 
 Corpulent, 70. 
 Courier, 105. 
 Courtier, 128. 
 Covey, 279. 
 ^"^y, 52. 
 
 Creature, 58, 133. 
 Crenelated, 274. 
 Crest, 201. 
 Crevice, 68. 
 Crinkles, ig6. 
 O/V/, 41. 
 Croon, 213. 
 Crumble, 112. 
 Crumping, iii. 
 Crystatline, 270. 
 Cupola, 279. 
 Curfew, 303. 
 C«n', 59. 
 Curiosity, 59, 
 Curious, xyj. 
 Curtly, 235. 
 Custom, 218. 
 Customer, 48. 
 
310 
 
 INDEX 20 NOTES. 
 
 Itaintiea, 319. 
 Dairy-hoHse, 231, 
 DauHtUss, 306. 
 DawHy 61. 
 Deadly y 249. 
 Deciui; 264. 
 Decoration^ 250. 
 Decreasing^ 48. 
 /><•</, 62. 
 Z><Ac/, 49. 
 De/ere?ttialty, 235 
 Deferred, 218. 
 Deign, 223. 
 Deliberatety, 117. 
 Delicate, 68. 
 Delight, 249. 
 Delirious., 230. 
 /?*^/, 246. 
 Demolished, 166. 
 Denial, 112. 
 Department, 235. 
 Descried, 79. 
 Design, 143. 
 Desolate, 61. 
 Despair, 84. 
 Desperation, 44. 
 Despite, 202. 
 Detail, 214. 
 Detective, 255. 
 Device, 99. 
 Devise, tj, 
 Dei'oured, 70. 
 Dexterity, 213. 
 Dexterously, 147. 
 Diapason, 268. 
 Difficult, 68. 
 Dilemma, 128. 
 Dike, 239, 
 Discern, 212. 
 Discussed, 150, 
 Disjecting, 257. 
 Dismal, 128, 256. 
 Dismay, 240. 
 Disposition, 126, 128 
 Divan, 95. 
 /^o^frf, 181. 
 /'i'/^, 168. 
 Dominoes, ti8. 
 Z?cM, 180. 
 Drama, 300. 
 Draught, 228. 
 Drear, 51. 
 Dreary, 61, 256. 
 Drought, 70. 
 
 Earn, 49. 
 
 Ecstasy, 149, 305. 
 Efficient, 162. 
 Effective, 142. 
 
 ^^'W -^ S3- 
 Effulgence, 271. 
 
 -*'<«'>'. 3C7- 
 
 Elements, 246. 
 
 Embellish, 121. 
 
 Emblazon, 76. 
 
 Emblem, 232, 
 
 Embroidered, 21 
 
 Emergency, 105, 
 
 Emporium, 283. 
 
 Emulate, 47. 
 
 Energy, 72. 
 
 Engineers, 77. 
 
 England, 187. 
 
 Enormous, 83. 
 
 Enticed, 119. 
 
 Entranced, 224. 
 
 Entreated, 265. 
 
 Entrepot, 282. 
 
 Enveloped, 148. 
 
 Episode, 81. 
 
 Epitaph, 70, 308. 
 
 Ephemeral, 278. 
 
 ^''^, 57- 
 Erin, 81. 
 Ermine, 56. 
 Eschewing, 87. 
 Escorted, 253. 
 Esplanade, 280. 
 Essayed, 125. 
 Esthetic, 283. 
 Estimate, 253. 
 Eternity, 244. 
 European, 97. 
 Evidently, 148. 
 Evince, 117. 
 Evincing, 242. 
 Evoke, 278. 
 Exalted, 74. 
 Excelsior, 99, 
 Exclamation, 67. 
 Exhausted, 121. 
 Exhaustion, 77. 
 Exhibited, 142. 
 Exile, 92. 
 Expectant, 102. 
 Expelled, 264. 
 Explosion, 162. 
 Exquisite, 228. 
 Exquisitely, 250. 
 
 f'aft/f, 64. 
 
 Fabricr, 206. 
 Faculty, 142. 
 Falchion, 99. 
 Falieri, 141. 
 Faltering, 242, 
 Fame, 151. 
 Familiarities, 90. 
 
 212, 
 
 Familiarly, 95. 
 Famine, 229. 
 Famous, 103. 
 Fantastic, 308. 
 /^ax/, 66. 
 I'dtal, 116. 
 Feats, 125. 
 /'>//, 98. 
 Festal, 88, 208. 
 Fickle, 126. 
 Fiction, 47. 
 Filigree, 270. 
 /^r> »i, so, 205. 
 Firmament, 244. 
 Fissures, 74, 
 i^'V/«/, 186. 
 Flashed, 246. 
 Flavor, 229. 
 /7rt7<', 185. 
 Flushed, 75. 
 Fore/end, 182. 
 Foregone, 220. 
 Foreign, 133. 
 Foreigner, 92. 
 Forest, 131, 
 Fortitude, 242, 
 Fortnight, 250. 
 Fortress, 105. 
 Fossil, 159. 
 Fragment, n6. 
 Frank, 80. 
 y'Vaj', 125. 
 Frequent, 171. 
 Fumbled, 51. 
 Further, 263. 
 
 OngfiUe, 90. 
 
 Genius, 143, 
 
 Ghastly, igo. 
 
 Gigantic, 71. 
 
 Glacier, 100, 
 
 Glare, 229. 
 
 Glebe, 304. 
 
 Gleaming, 61. 
 I Gloomy, 134. 
 ' Glutton, 219. 
 I Goal, 271. 
 Goblet, 233, 
 Gothic, 274. 
 Grace, 223. 
 Gradations, 50. 
 Grandeurs, 73. 
 Greenhouse, iiC. 
 Grew, 66. 
 Gtierdon, 125. 
 Guest, 274. 
 frwxA, 246. 
 C«f/, 250. 
 
 Gutta-percha, 127. 
 Gymnasium, 172. 
 
 HahttaHon, 89. 
 Habitude, 86. 
 Hallow, 266. 
 //am let, 304. 
 //ank, 169. 
 I/apless, 104. 
 Harbor, 169. 
 Hard by, 104. 
 //arlequin, 105. 
 //armony, 213. 
 //astily, 52. 
 
 77- 
 
 /leard, 71, 
 
 //earth, 57. , 
 
 /leedless, 180. 
 
 //f/w, 185. 
 
 //erald, 125. 
 //eraldry, 305. 
 
 Herbage, 240. 
 Hermit, 262. 
 //?ro, 239. 
 Hesperides, 88. 
 //omely, 214. 
 Homily^ 168. 
 Horde, 267. 
 Horizon, 88. 
 //ioj/, 90. 
 Hubbub, 127, 
 ^«^, 145, 
 //«»;?<?, 137. 
 Hurricane, 1S5. 
 //ypocrisy, 214. 
 Hyssop, 205. 
 
 /6w, 85. 
 
 /dT^a, 134. 
 
 /deal, 206. 
 
 Ignoble, 306. 
 
 /llustrate, 85, 198. 
 
 /magination, 142. 
 
 Imbued, 286. 
 
 /mpaled, 212. 
 /mperial, 76. 
 /mpetuous, 212. 
 Impetus, 213. 
 /mpress, 139, 
 /nadequate, 170. 
 Incarnadined, 212, 
 Incident, 206. 
 Indicate, 74. 
 /ndignation, 214, 
 Industrious, 68. 
 /neffable, 214, 
 Inevitable, 305. 
 /nflamed, 215, 
 
INDEX TO NOTES. 
 
 311 
 
 Ingenious, 147, 306. 
 Initial, 76, 
 Injunction, 340. 
 Inserted, 76. 
 Insist, 265. 
 Instant, 240. 
 Instinct, 84. 
 Integrity, 280. 
 Intelligence, 318. 
 Intelligent, 60. 
 Intense, 71, 
 Interfered, ao6. 
 Interrupted, 177. 
 Interview, 176. 
 /« token, 263. 
 Intrusively, 233. 
 Invoked, 77, 
 Inundate, 239. 
 Inured, 75. 
 Irascible, 235. 
 Irruption, 199. 
 Isolated, 81. 
 
 Jacqueit CarHer, 
 
 283. 
 TVjwf Princes Fre- 
 
 miot, 252. 
 Jaunty, 86. 
 Jocund, 304. 
 7<jA» Hampden, 306. 
 y^Aw Milton, 306. 
 ?<>//)', 128. 
 yoj</i/< Mallard li^il 
 
 Ham Turner, '29,1. 
 Jubilee, 200. 
 Junction, 89. 
 
 Khartomnf 89. 
 Knick~knacks, 119. 
 
 Tjaggard, 125. 
 Lance, 125. 
 Languidly, 220. 
 Languishing, 70. 
 Zflf/, 52. 
 Lattices, 94. 
 Lawn, 116, 
 League, 75. 
 Leaguered, 268. 
 Leal, 268. 
 Leech, 249. 
 Legend, 291. 
 Liberal, 119. 
 Liege, 188. 
 Lingered, 119. 
 Lists, 123. 
 Lolled, 52. 
 Ludicrous, 213. 
 Lurch, 115. 
 
 Luscious, 228. 
 Luxuriant, 278. 
 Luxury, 334, 306. 
 
 /:>*•<?, 305. 
 
 Mnglcal, 45. 
 Magnificent, 151, 199. 
 Majestically, 83. 
 Mammoth, 279. 
 Mangled, 52, 236. 
 Manifesto, tj. 
 Manuscripts, 199. 
 Marie- A mee, 252. 
 Maritime, 297. 
 Marshalled, 79. 
 Marshes, aio. 
 Martyrs, 47, 199. 
 Marvelous, 142. 
 Matin, 60. 
 Mature, 96. 
 Maturity, 170. 
 j'/rtj', 108. 
 Meed, 126. 
 Melancholy, 133. 
 Melodious, 246. 
 Memorandum, 56. 
 Memorial, 307. 
 Mere, 168. 
 Message, 52. 
 Microscope, 172. 
 Mien, 182. 
 Minarets, 274. 
 Minster, 123. 
 Minstrel, 191. 
 Miracle, 151. 
 Miracles, 219. 
 Mirth, 57. 
 Miserable, 89. 
 Modeled^ 142. 
 Moderation, 218. 
 Modern, T97. 
 A/o/V, 89. 
 Monastery, 198. 
 Monogram, 76. 
 Monopolized, 282. 
 Monotony, 282. 
 Moor, 168. 
 Moorland, 6r. 
 Municipal, 281. 
 Murky, 61. 
 Muse, 242, 306. 
 Museum, 143. 
 Mussulman, 227 
 Myriad, 138. 
 Mystery, 223. 
 Mystical, 74. 
 
 ffavrow, 133. 
 Native, 171. 
 
 Naturalist, ^. .. 
 Naughty, 137. 
 Nectar, 233. 
 Neophyte, 194. 
 ^'gg'**'dly, 219. 
 A'i»^/<', 187. 
 Nook, 213. 
 Nothing, 215. 
 Novice, 198. 
 Numerically, 76. 
 
 Ohnoxionti, 296. 
 Obscure, 304. 
 Obstruction, 162. 
 Ocean, 246, 
 Occupied, 53. 
 Ocher, 148. 
 Odious, 227. 
 Oliver Cromwell, 306 
 Ominous, 237, 
 Onerous, 298. 
 Onslaught, 267. 
 Opinion, 66. 
 Oracular, 218. 
 Orator, 163. 
 Oratory, 252. 
 Orchestra, 88. 
 Original, 149. 
 Or/o/?, 86. 
 Ovation, 298. 
 
 Pagan, 177. 
 /'rt^, 180. 
 /Vr//, 228. 
 Pallid, 223. 
 Panorama, 278. 
 Pasha, 91. 
 Pathetic, 251. 
 Patiently, 68. 
 Patriot, 47. 
 Patron, 143. 
 Pendent, 200. 
 Penetrate, 213. 
 Penetrated, 72. 
 Peninsula, 280. 
 Penury, 305. 
 Perceptible, 240. 
 I'erche, 189. 
 Perchance, 156. 
 Perennial, 252. 
 Performances, 148. 
 Perfume, 61. 
 /Vr/V, 62. 
 Perilous, 170. 
 Perplexed, 123. 
 Perplexity, 149. 
 Pervading, 245. 
 
 ^^«>, '77- 
 Petulai.ce', a66. 
 
 Pickerel, 87. 
 
 Picturesque, 44, 97. 
 
 Picturesqueness, 283. 
 
 Pinnacle, 279. 
 
 Piteous, 71. 
 
 Plane, 74. 
 
 Plantation, 233. 
 
 Pleasure, 48. 
 
 /'/ia«/, 138. 
 
 /V/Vrf, 87. 
 
 Plodding, 94. 
 
 Plumage, 147. 
 /WiV^, 25s. 
 
 Pomegranate, 96. 
 Pondered, 228. 
 Pondering, 75. 
 Porch, 116. 
 Portmanteau, 107. 
 Portray, 74. 
 Possagno, 141. 
 Possessed, 147. 
 Posterity, 143. 
 Precincts, 307. 
 Predilection, 204. 
 Prefect, 60. 
 Prelude, 287. 
 Premises, 165. 
 Presided, 198. 
 Pretty, 53, 62. 
 Prevented, 120. 
 Primitive, 159. 
 Principles, 128. 
 Procession, 231. 
 Prodigy, 75. 
 Produce, 85. 
 Profound, 128. 
 Profusely, 251. 
 Promenade, 280. 
 Pronu nciamento,i66. 
 Proverb, 108. 
 Providence, 108. 
 Profusion, 121. 
 Puny, 264. 
 Purchase, 49. 
 Purse, 58. 
 /»«/, 67. 
 
 Queer, 53. 
 (?«/>, 271. 
 Quoth, 103. 
 
 Itanaotned, 62. 
 Rapture, 224. 
 Ravine, 240. 
 Recognize, 158. 
 Recur, 203. 
 Redress, 215. 
 A".?^/, 186. 
 Refused, 220. 
 
312 
 
 INDEX TO NOTES. 
 
 Regal, 38. 
 Regiment, 105. 
 Rehearsing, 355. 
 Renown, 125. 
 Repelled, 178. 
 Reputation, 143. 
 Request, aao. 
 Requiem, 78. 
 Resigned, lao. 
 Resist, aoi. 
 Resources, 21a. 
 Retinue, 187. 
 Reveled, aa8. 
 Reverently, j8i. 
 Revolution, 313. 
 Revolving, 75. 
 Ritifk, III. 
 Rivulet, I02, 195. 
 Rotming, 172. 
 ^0//, ass. 
 Rood, 133. 
 iJiPiy, 67. 
 Rouen, 189. 
 Round Table, 123. 
 .ffow/, 103. 
 ^o«/?, 83. 
 Ruddy, 349. 
 Rueful, 147. 
 Ruintd, 215. 
 Rumor, 249, 
 
 Saecrilotal, 224. 
 Sacraments, 300. 
 Sagacity, 161. 
 ^■a^j, 47. 
 5V»iV, 57. 
 
 Saint Bernard, loi. 
 Sally, 229. 
 Salutation, 95. 
 Sanctify, 266. 
 6a« y^f*, 157. 
 .Saw yuan, 157. 
 Sarcasm, 266. 
 Sardius, 205. 
 iViz'/', J 80, 
 Scath, 370, 
 Schooner, 184. 
 Scourge, 169. 
 Sculpture, 143. 
 
 Sculptures, 158. 
 ^ar, 371. 
 Seething, 362. 
 Selected, no. 
 Sensation, 14a. 
 Sensible, 75. 
 Sentinel, 78. 
 Sequestered, 307. 
 Serene, loi, 305. 
 .SVr/, 182. 
 Servitor, 263. 
 Sharper, 80. 
 Sheath, 180. 
 Sheers, 156. 
 Shilling. 51, 
 Shipped, 134. 
 Shocking, 104. 
 Shrank, 50. 
 Shrinif, 224. 
 Shrouds, 187. 
 ShujSle, 353. 
 /S/4j', 80. 
 .S"»V^, 188. 
 Skipper, 185. 
 Sluggard, 252. 
 Snappish, 134. 
 Snubbed, 120. 
 Sobriety, 150. 
 Social, 117. 
 Solemnly, 120. 
 Solitary, 340. 
 Solitude, 262. 
 Sombre, 235. 
 Sovereign, 245. 
 5>ar^, 58. 
 Special, 204. 
 Specimen, 171. 
 Spectacle, 76. 
 Spectral, 100. 
 
 •S>>»«'', 73- 
 Squalid, 281. 
 Stammered, 50. 
 S'/ar*, 186. 
 Stately, 303. 
 5'/w</, 133 
 ^/^w, 267. 
 Stimulating, 163. 
 Stock, 48. 
 Strait, 142. 
 
 Stratagem, 330. 
 Strenuously, 296. 
 Strive, 61. 
 Studio, 143. 
 Sturdy, 250. 
 Subdued, 347. 
 Subsidence, 213. 
 Subtile, 73. 
 Successor, 187. 
 Suffocation, 163. 
 Suggest, 172. 
 .Sx/^y, 137. 
 Sumtnit, 73. 
 Superb, 330. 
 Superfluity, 53. 
 Surely, 50. 
 5«r/; 186. 
 Swain, 307. 
 Sward, 88. 
 Swath, 196. 
 Symbol, 211. 
 
 Tarry, 263. 
 Tawny, 94. 
 Tedious, 54, 227. 
 Tempter, 62. 
 Tenor, 307. 
 There/ore, 66. 
 Thimbleberry, 249. 
 Thirsty, 71. 
 Threshold, 170. 
 Throng, 264. 
 Thwarting, 177. 
 T/'wy, 56. 
 Toiling, 7t. 
 Tomahawk, 146. 
 Tongue, 264. 
 Tortois. , 86. 
 Tournament, 125. 
 Tourney, 191. 
 Transybrmation, 151 
 Transporting, 328. 
 Traverse, 154. 
 Treacherous, 89. 
 7V/^«. <>, 359, 307. 
 Trice, 116. 
 Triumphantly, 187. 
 Trivial, 214. 
 Trophies, 305. 
 
 Trophy, 76. 
 Trudging, 86. 
 Trust, 51. 
 Turbid, 77. 
 Turbulent, 262. 
 Twain, s8. 
 Twilight, 51. 
 Tyranny, 92. 
 Tyrant, 306. ^ 
 
 Tyrol, 105. 
 
 Uncouth, 307. 
 Unction, 304. 
 Undaunted, 243. 
 Unpriced, 305. 
 University, 197. 
 Uttered, 53. 
 
 Valor, 135. 
 Vanquished, 331 
 Variegated, 145. 
 Variety, 85, 
 Varlet, 156. 
 Vatican, 199. 
 Veering, 183. 
 K«V, 2 J I. 
 Venetian, 141. 
 Verdure, 234, 
 Vertical, 73. 
 Viceroy, 92. 
 r/a'aA 58. 
 Voyage, 134. 
 
 Waned, 170. 
 Wasted, 104. 
 Waxed, 71. 
 Waxen, 144. 
 fF^W, 182. 
 Whooping, i86. 
 Wigwam, 145, 
 Woman, 67, 
 Wont, 227, 
 Wonted, 307. 
 Wrath, 314. 
 Wrong, 58. 
 Wrench, an. 
 
 r«le, 130.